Chapter Text
“Oh please, I’m not the only one with a fucked up relationship, come on guys.” Lucifer defended, his brows furrowing as he pretended to laugh, his former kingly posture was now mimicking the curve of a shrimp.
Currently, the topic of toxic relationships and broken hearts somehow made it to the table. The king of Hell’s mood was already stifled the moment he made his way to the hotel’s living room. His usual spot at the very end of the couch was taken by some sinner that looked like a tree. Her hair was made of leaves which grew some apples too. That’s probably why he made his way next to her without telling her off, similar interests and all.
The hotel had grown in popularity ever since the snake-sir snake? He didn’t bother with remembering the name. When the slimy fellow with multiple eyes managed to be redeemed. Lucifer leaned back against his seat, sighing fondly as he thought of his daughter Charlie. He was so proud of her, Lilith would be proud-
“Hah!” Lucifer, the King among men, lost his composure immediately once he heard that grating, high pitched, transatlantic voice. “I think leaving behind a useless, tiny, king with barely enough power to defeat a few measly angels would precisely fit the term ‘fucked up relationship’”. Alastor berated from the other end of the couch. A few sinners started to laugh, some in fear.
Lucifer snarled, the familiar burn of rage threatening to rise through his face. Fucked up relationship? His marriage, despite all things, was the least fucked up thing compared to most! Other partnerships were abusive, lacked love, or drove each other mad, nearly massacring half the pentagram. Crossing his legs and tilting his head high, he stared at the freakishly tall deer demon that reeled of decay.
“I thought you’d understand.” Lucifer started, tilting his head with a cruel smile.
The crowd of sinners in the lounge looked at Alastor for his response. The radio demon blinked owlishly, as if he’d already grown bored of the conversation. “Whatever are you talking about?” He asked with genuine confusion.
“Uh,” Lucifer laughed. “You and your boyfriend kind of made your breakup everyone’s problem?” He looked around, glancing at the sinners. A few of them nodded, some aggressively agreed. “I mean, kidnapping me, willing to permanently slaughter like half of the pentagram, the list goes on.” He finished, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally.
“What?” Alastor asked, his frequency spiking as his composter slipped for a fraction of a second. His creepy smile dipped at the ends of his thin lips.
“Oh, drop the act. Everyone’s been talking about it.” Lucifer said, nodding along with the growing crowd of sinners.
“I remember seeing them be super close a few years ago.” One piped up. “Or maybe it’s been longer than a few, time goes nowhere down here.” The sinner finished, immediately regretting joining in on the conversation.
“Oh, yeah. They were always at that one bar.” Mimzy plopped in next to Alastor, who immediately hunched his shoulders hearing her loud voice. “Practically inseparable!” She gave him a quick hug as a greeting before shimmying her way onto the couch with a drink in her hand, plopping her bottom right next to the king.
“Hi, sugar.” Mimzy whispered lowly, teasingly batting her eyes at Lucifer. The king just grumbled. “Anyway, those two nearly came in a pack.” She cackled. “Could you believe it, the terrifying radio demon, hanging out. I couldn’t believe my own eyes, and a sinner with a television for a head-he hates those things!”
Alastor gritted his teeth, but fixed his posture once more. He trailed his claws against the diaphysis of his staff. “Well, my dear. As the saying goes, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”
Mimzy gave him a deadpanned expression. “That’s not a saying, that’s from the Godfather.” Alastor shifted his eyes, failing to hinder his embarrassment. He remembers now, Vox had shown him that movie decades ago. “But, anyway sure-if keeping them close means swing dancing to Sinatra!” Mimzy continued to laugh, her bright and alluring energy relaxing the tension in the room.
“Hahaha.” Alastor parroted sarcastically. “Very funny, you all.” His static screeching as he glanced at the other crowd of sinners. Lucifer and Mimzy just rolled their eyes at the cheap display of power.
“Here he goes again.” Mimzy whispered to the king. Lucifer snickered, watching Alastor’s face morph into irritation. Alastor clenched his fists around his staff as he felt his black shadows pool around his hooves.
In an instant he teleported away, without saying goodbye, of course.
“Hello, sweetheart!” Alastor announced loudly, appearing in Vox’s bedroom without much of a warning.
The former overlord barely looked up from his vPhone. He didn’t even bother to look surprised or terrified at Alastor’s appearance. “What do you want, prick.”
Alastor took a look at the grim appearance of his former…acquaintances living quarters. What once was his working desk covered in papers and soul-binding documents, was now riddled with takeout boxes thrown haphazardly. Vox’s closet was thrown together messily, clean clothes mixed with laundry. Alastor gingerly stepped over the plethora of different items sprawled across the floor.
“Handsome as ever, aren’t you, Vincent.” Alastor said distastefully, eyeing the television demon’s languid form. Vox’s shirt was loose, showing bits of his collarbone. Matched with a pair of blue sweatpants that hung dangerously low against his pelvic region. He looked pitiful. Alastor stifled a snort, noticing the tiny shark pattern on his sweats.
Vox rolled his eyes, despite a blush blooming on his face as Alastor called him handsome. He turned his head away, trying to look uninterested and focused his attention back on his vPhone. “Fuck you.” Vox muttered without any real bite.
Alastor grins, taking a few steps closer to the base of Vox’s bed. He leans over the other, standing incredibly close. Alastor can see Vox’s shifting eyes, as if he’s trying to look at anything but the radio demon.
“Let’s make a deal.” Alastor says after a minute of hovering, like a cartoon villain.
“Seriously, fuck you.” Vox says incredulously. He practically spits in Alastor’s face at the offer.
Alastor still won’t let up, and smiles wider once Vox finally looks at him. Vox retaliates, flipping his phone around to show Alastor whatever nonsense he was watching. It’s a childish thing to do, Alastor thinks as he preens against the brightness. Vox then, which is incredibly unpredictable and might be his most intelligent plan yet, turns to his side, facing away from the other.
“Vox, look at me.” Alastor commands, peering over his shoulder. Strangely, he finds that he trails over Vox’s figure, noticing each divot and fold of his clothes. Alastor tightens the grip on his staff.
“Fine, if you wish to continue to act like I am no longer at the center of your universe, then so be it.” Alastor tuts, using his staff to push away any foreign objects on Vox’s bed before he takes a seat. Vox is still silent with his head turned to the side, Alastor can hear his claws swiping against the vPhone’s screen.
“Well.” Alastor starts, crossing his legs over the other. “It seems the king of Hell along with the other lowlifes of the hotel believe we are boyfriends. Let’s use this to our advantage and torture them all! Your ratings will go back up, and I can watch them all suffer!” He finishes, cackling loudly.
(It’s a very bad, narcissistic idea. For it to work, sinners would actually have to care about them. But, they don’t-not really. The two are just terrifying and loud. Neither of them know that, they think the world revolves around each other.)
Vox halts his swiping. Alastor hears shuffling of fabric as Vox turns to finally look at him. He’s shifted to be in a sitting position on the bed. His eyes were unmistakably wide, a faint light blue blush dusted across his screen, and his mouth was widely agape.
What?
“What?” Vox hears himself say, his fans are whirring loudly in his head. “Boyfriends?” He whispers.
“Oh, don’t be so apprehensive now.” Alastor chortles, waving his hand. There’s a layer of crumbs on Vox’s t-shirt. “My goodness, dear. I hope you cease this…idiocy immediately. It’s unbecoming. No boyfriend of mine would be as drab as…this.” Alastor gestured to Vox’s figure.
“What the-I didn’t always dress like this you know!” Vox chides. “Gimme a fucking break, I’ll be back in my suit and tie like, later.” He says, crossing his arms against his chest.
“Ah yes, back when you so creatively copied my outfit. Except instead of red, it’s blue.” Alastor retorts teasingly. He blinks owlishly for a second, formulating an idea. “Although, matching wouldn’t be so bad. It would fit the whole boyfriend concept.” He finishes, tapping his claws methodically on Vox’s bedsheets.
Vox nods. “Yeah, actually that would be a good idea-”
Then, he visibly splutters, wiping at his clothes hastily. “Wait, wait, wait.” Alastor pins his ears back against Vox’s frequency, not because it hurt-but because it was just annoying. “You don’t want a partnership. But, ‘boyfriends’ is okay?!” Vox practically screeches, flailing his arms around like a bird. Or, perhaps Vox would prefer to be compared to a shark…A shark splashing his fins? Alastor pondered. He briefly hears Vox’s tantrum, but he’s done so many of those, it was growing awfully boring.
“Partnership means an exchange between equal values.” Alastor says offhandedly, as if it was common knowledge. Vox scoffs loudly, throwing a candy wrapper at Alastor’s head. “And “boyfriend" suggests camaraderie, dates, flowers and the like.” Alastor continues, avoiding the flimsy tissue with ease. “Two very distinct things, or has your brain finally shrunk into the size of your head?” Alastor insults, laughing again seeing Vox’s face shift into many different faces.
“Fake boyfriends.” Vox finally says after a minute of staring into each other’s eyes.
Alastor halts for a moment, he hadn’t even thought of that. He ignores how it stings at his ego. “Fine.” He tuts. “Fitting, you do love to lie.”
Vox smiles for the first time since Alastor intruded into his room. “Take it or leave it.” Vox negotiates, sticking his hand out. Alastor fixates on the blue claws, eyeing the crumbs dusting on the palm of his hand.
Alastor smiles. “It’s a deal. But first, wash your disgusting hands. Then we’ll shake on it.”
Vox grumbles, before fixing himself up towards the restroom. “Anything for you.” He grunts out, purposely shoving Alastor backwards onto the bed as he gets up.
Alastor lets himself flop against the mattress, smiling evilly as he thinks of all the chaos he’d shower upon the sinners. First it was a giggle, then he howled with laughter, clutching at his sides. He snapped his fingers, and instantly tiny little shadow creatures emerged from the ground up. “Please, dispose of the clutter in my fellow’s room. It seems as though he’s lost his way.” He joked.
The torture would be amazing! He’d have an excuse to show up late to whatever Charlotte’s hotel task she’d force upon him. The shower turns on in the back, Alastor can hear Vox meander his way through the bathroom. He’d show up to Rosie’s with Vox beside him, she’d have to serve them both tea and they’d stay right until five minutes before closing time! He’d rub it in Lucifer’s stupid face that he and Vox were head over heels in love, and he’d feel horrible about his own failed marriage!
“The fuck are you laughing at.” A deep, baritone voice calls from a few feet from him.
Like a robot, Alastor lifts himself up with his back perfectly straight and smiles. Vox had gotten out the shower and was looking much more presentable. Alastor nodded in approval at the sight.
“Did you-did you clean my room?!” Vox says, looking around at the floor and bed. Takeout boxes, food wrappings, soiled clothes, all vanished, turning the room nearly spotless.
Alastor scoffed. “Oh, definitely not, my dear. They did. I imagined they’d thrown it away, maybe burned them, perhaps ate them! I’m not too sure what they did.”
“Thanks...” Vox says, putting his brows together in a tight frown. “You look like you have a hanger in your mouth.”
“Ah, my dear.” Alastor sighs, getting up from the bed. “We will torture so many souls.” He says dreamily, imagining Rosie’s angered face as she serves him and Vox tea. He steps towards Vox, offering his hand out for the other to take. Briefly, images from nearly a century ago flash in his mind. When Vincent was offering his hand out to take, for a moment-Alastor wonders if Vox will not take his hand.
But, Vox sticks his hand out. Alastor lowers his eyes, throwing away whatever concern that had managed to creep up on him. Vox was still as pliant as ever, when it came to him. Sharp, blue claws graze against his wrist as the two make contact. The weight of it felt familiar. A string wraps loosely around Alastor and Vox’s pinky finger, tying them to each other. Flashes of green and black overtake blue lightning, and then, the deal is done.
The radio demon gazes downward at his hand, the string was thin and barely tugs at his finger, as if it wasn’t there at all.
Vox is breathless, Alastor is unaffected.
“Please do not make me eat sinners on our first date.” Vox says jokingly to ease tension, but there was a hint of truth to it.
Alastor regards the former overlord, plucking the soul-binding string lightly. “Oh, please. I’m not that cruel.” He says sarcastically.
“Yes, you fucking are.” Vox retorts with a quickness.
“Well, I’m not. Not to my boyfriend.” Alastor finishes, testing the word in his mouth. He shakes his hand and manifests the string away. Alastor flattens his tailcoat, swiping away any remaining lingering dust.
Vox blinks, the blush spreading across his face like a blue wildfire. “Right.” He corrects, turning his head away to hide his face.