Chapter Text
Vox woke up already dreading the day.
He hadn’t told anyone- not even Emily- but he’d been staring at the calendar for a year, knowing what day was coming up; what anniversary.
One hundred years since they’d met, and ninety-six since he and Alastor had gotten married. Both on the same day, just four years apart. Alastor had been sentimental like that.
Vox didn’t even want to think about how their love hadn’t made it to either ten year mark. If he did, he’d collapse into a sobbing mess and start going through his cloud of memories as he always did.
Emily would understand, but today was one of her few days that she got to spend entirely with him. He didn’t want to ruin that by being dramatic about an anniversary that had already passed a hundred times, and ninety of them had left him mourning what he no longer had.
Besides, he’d made it through the last four years they’d been dating without making this day a big deal. Just because it was a larger anniversary, that wouldn’t change anything. It couldn’t. He wouldn’t be a whiny bitch over this. Not today. Maybe tomorrow, when he could cry without anyone witnessing it. That’s what he’d done for the last four years they’d been dating.
Emily was the Seraphim of Joy, and he was her boyfriend. She deserved better than someone who couldn’t get over his lost husband.
And, speaking of Emily- she would be arriving at his penthouse soon.
So he should really get up, take a shower, and get dressed. Maybe ask Emily to help him preen his wings once she got there too? It’d been a while, and he could feel them starting to get itchy when he rolled over in his nest. Sera helped Emily preen most of the time, but Emily might need it too if Sera’d been busy, which the older seraphim usually was.
Vox forced himself out of the nest before he could think about it any longer.
Thinking was the problem.
If he thought about the date, he'd think about Alastor. If he thought about Alastor, he'd think about the wedding. If he thought about the wedding, he'd start remembering everything else, and then he'd be sitting in a pile of memories before Emily even arrived.
So.
Shower.
Shower was good.
Shower was mindless.
He grabbed a change of underclothes and headed into the bathroom, pointedly refusing to look at the calendar on his way past.
The water came on hot enough to sting.
Good.
Vox stepped in, washed his body, avoided getting the hot water in his ports (He knew from experience that it was never fun to have that happen. Laying in a giant bowl of rice… not what he wanted to do on Emily’s day off.) or on his screen (It would smudge if he did. Windex was a life saver.) and watched the water bead off his oily wings. He’d never found out what sort of bird his wings were from, but with their shape and ability to repel water, it was probably some sort of waterfowl. Colour would’ve helped identify quickly, but- like most angels- his wings were pure white. His were slightly more gray than most though.
Speaking of his wings, he would need to ask Emily to help preen when she got there. He could never reach the feathers closest to his back without help, so they were the itchiest part of him.
Of course that implies that he takes care of the parts of his wings that he can reach.
Which wasn’t true.
As if on cue, one of his primary feathers fell out onto the tiled floor of the shower.
Goddamn it.
He usually kept his larger feathers when they fell out, but now this one was wet and ruined.
Big, pretty feathers like those ones were usually given as gifts, used as decor, or used as quills. Emily had lots of his, and he had lots of hers.
Alastor had never gotten to see him with wings, so Alastor didn’t have any of his feathers. He would’ve loved to share them, but Alastor was in hell.
And that went without mentioning the other issues; it’d been nearly a century since they’d seen each other, Vox had changed so much since then- he wasn’t the naive young woman that he had been when he met and married Alastor- and he had only properly found out about Alastor’s murders after his husband had died.
So… lots of problems there.
And he was dating someone else now.
Emily.
And Emily was great.
She was only the second person he’d dated in his entire existence.
The first was Alastor, and they had already been married four years into the relationship. There was nothing wrong with that, they had been happy, but he was glad Emily wanted to take things slow between them. After all, they did have eternity to be together, so why rush it?
Alastor’s love had been a whirlwind that had ended just as fast as it came. Emily would hopefully stick around longer than Alastor had.
As he stepped out of the shower, he heard the doorbell ring.
“Coming!” He called out. He’d left the window open for Emily in the hallway that led to the elevator, so she hadn’t needed to go through all fifty floors of VoxTech from the official entrance, but it’s not like he would leave his own window open in a world like heaven where most people had wings.
Vox threw on some underwear, and smiled as he walked to the door.
He was right.
Today was going to be fine.
He swung open the door, and Emily stood on the other side with a bright smile and her wings folded neatly behind her. She leaned forward and kissed the edge of his screen so it wouldn’t leave a smudge, but she was essentially kissing his cheek. She pulled back with a: “Hi.”
“Hey, Em. You’re early.”
She checked an invisible watch. “By three minutes.”
“I was still in the shower.”
“Oh my!” She fake gasped. “What will Sera think if she finds out I saw my boyfriend mostly naked?”
He rolled his eyes. “Before marriage too.”
“Oh, how scandalous we are.”
“How scandalous indeed.” He sighed. “Come in. I still need to get dressed.”
“Nah, you can totally wear that.”
“I can wear just my boxers? I don’t think so.”
“You don’t even know where we’re going. It could be the pool.”
“Then I would need swim trunks, not my boxers.”
“You’re no fun.”
“You just want to see me undressed.”
“What can I say? You’re hot, Mr. Heaven’s Hottest, and I get the privilege of being the only one to see you naked.”
“Wow, you must feel lucky.”
“I do.” She smiled, finally walking in and closing the door behind her. “Can I help pick out your outfit?”
He pretended to think about it, and finally relented with a: “Hm, I guess so.”
She cheered a little, and started muttering under her breath as they walked to his walk-in closet. “Okay, okay, what’s today’s mood?” She asked.
Anything but sad, or memory, or grief or remembrance.
And it was a more femme day, he thinks. Not like he’d wear a dress, but something with flowy pants or sleeves would be good.
“Hm. Flowy? Maybe a bit more androgynous than usual, but not too femme? Calm in general?”
“I can work with that.” She smiled, instantly going to his pants drawer and sorting through them. She pulled out a pair of black wide-legged, almost bell bottom, pants. He liked that pair; very breathable material, handsome, high waisted- they came almost up to where his wings ended around his mid back- but not overly feminine or overly masculine. “These good?”
“Yeah, I can wear those today.”
“Good, good. They go with lots of colours, and I don’t know what I want for your top yet.”
“You’re usually my top.”
“You’re so dirty.”
“I would hope not, I just showered.”
She scoffed. “Put them on.”
“Okay, miss-pain-in-the-ass.”
“‘Okay, madam’ is what you should say if you’re going to address me properly.”
He rolled his eyes and put the pants on.
While he did, she worked through the shirts he had hanging up. She murmured under her breath as she worked through the shirts. She pulled out a black scoop-necked form-fitting halter top and laid it on the floor with a whispered: “Maybe?”
He watched her work for a few minutes, as she pulled out three more shirts.
One was an emerald green body suit with an open back, v-neck and fluffy but short sleeves. It was quite fitted, and would contrast nicely with the flowing pants. It was pretty, but he’d have to take off his pants again to put it on.
Then was a light blue vest with a tailored but overly high waist. It was also a high v-neck, and its back swooped down to make room for his wings. A little too feminine for him most days, but not bad today.
Next was a pale yellow button-up peasant top with a loose collar that was good for necklaces. Its sleeves were large and poofy, with a small elastic to bring it together just above the wrist. It had two slits in the back for his wings to come out of. It was more of a blouse than anything, and definitely too large on his torso, but that could be fixed with a belt or tucking it into his pants. He did like the cinched waist look with a loose fitting top.
Emily looked between the four options and quickly eliminated the black halter top. “Too much like your normal outfits. I want you to wear something bold for our date today.”
Considering it was one of the only ones he would often wear to work, she had a point.
Next went the vest. “That’s my colour scheme.” She said simply when he asked why.
“We’re not allowed to match?”
“Nope. If we’re gonna match, then it needs to be planned ahead. You can’t choose an outfit based on what I already did for myself.”
“Weird rule, but sure.”
“Green or yellow?” She asked, holding up the green body suit and the yellow blouse.
“I’ve already got my pants on. I don’t want to change into a body suit.”
“Yellow it is then! Do you have any white belts to go with it? I think it would look great with your wings.”
“Here, I keep my belts here. I don’t know if I’ve got white ones, but I know I’ve got some that are birch coloured, if that’ll work?”
She hummed as she shuffled several belts out of the way.
He carefully pulled the yellow blouse over his rectangular head, each wing sliding into the designated slit while she searched. Most of his shirts either buckled together behind his head or were tied, but this one’s neckline was wide enough for it to slide over his head without major problems.
Vox tucked the edges of his shirt into his pants just as Emily popped back up with an off-white belt in hand. He took it and slid it through the pant’s belt loops, buckling it up in the front.
“You look great.” Emily said as he finished, already holding a chunky golden necklace up for him.
“Where did you get that? It’s not one of mine.”
“It’s one of mine. I thought it would look great on you, and I never wear it. Here, let me put it on you.” She stood behind him, put on the necklace, and stepped back. “Look in the mirror.”
He did.
He looked… good.
Really good.
The yellow complimented his navy blue skin, and the cream belt stood out against the black pants.
The gold necklace and light yellow shirt meshed extremely well.
However, with the main two colours of his outfit being yellow and black… “I look like a bee.”
Emily laughed. “Maybe a little. But it still looks good. Would you rather have white pants? I think you’ve got a matching pair in white.”
“I can’t be bothered to change. I’m already dressed. Let’s go.”
“Hold up mister. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your wings.”
Right.
They did need to be preened, but he’d been assuming he could ask her to do it after dinner.
“Are they that bad?”
“When was the last time you preened? You’re losing feathers. I can’t have that for where we’re going today.”
How ominous.
“Recently.” He replied.
“Define ‘recently’.”
“...Two weeks ago.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“Two weeks? Really, Vox?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“You have two wings.”
“Yes?”
“I have six.”
“I know.”
“And I managed to preen mine.”
“You have Sera.”
“And you have me. You know you can call me, right? You’re never bothering me, Vox. I love you, okay?”
He felt his screen warm with a blush.
They hadn’t said ‘I love you’ until a few months ago, but they’d said it religiously since. It still managed to make him blush every single time.
“I love you too.” He said back, and he meant it. “I just… I don’t know.”
It was true.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t been taking care of himself.
Well.
He had an inkling that it was something to do with the anniversary, but he was fine.
And he meant it; he was fine.
“Just… been tired.” He finished.
“Okay.” She agreed. “I won’t push.”
“It’s nothing, I swear.”
She gave him a look, but didn’t say anything more about it. “Just let me preen your wings.”
“Of course.” Vox obediently turned around.
He lowered his wings enough for her to reach them, and Emily settled behind him.
The first gentle stroke of her fingers through the feathers at his spine made him practically melt. “Ohhh, that's good.”
“I told you you needed it.”
“I never said you were wrong.”
“You implied it.”
“I imply lots of things.”
Emily laughed softly and began working through the feathers.
She was careful around the sensitive places, separating the feathers with her fingers and smoothing them back into place. Every so often she'd pause to pluck out a loose feather, then toss it into a small pile. Later, she would sort through the pile and take the good ones.
Vox closed his eyes.
This was better.
This was exactly what he needed.
No memories.
No anniversaries.
Just Emily.
Her hands.
The quiet rustle of feathers.
The faint warmth of her presence behind him.
“You're tense.” Emily murmured.
“I'm fine.”
“You're very tense for someone who's fine.”
“You said you wouldn’t ask.”
“I said I wouldn’t ‘push’. I asked twice, that’s not being pushy.”
“It’s bordering on it.”
Despite the fact that he was facing away from her, he could just tell she rolled her eyes.
A few minutes later, Emily’s fingers stilled against his wings. “Okay, I think I’m done. Flap for me?”
Vox obliged, the flap of his wings causing wind that would’ve made the pile of feathers on the ground scatter if Emily hadn’t already grabbed them in preparation, as well as knocking out some loose feathers that she had missed. “Now are we ready to go?” He asked.
“Mhm. Well… Sorta. We’re going for brunch first, and then we’ll go for our actual date.”
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope! I think it’s better as a surprise. We do need to be there at two though, and it’s already eleven. We should go if we want time to eat first.”
“So you booked something for us?”
“More of an appointment. You’ll like it.”
“I’d like it more if I knew.”
“It’s three hours. You can wait. Now, where do you want to go to brunch?”
“You don’t have something picked out, madam I-plan-everything? What if I pick something too far from our date location?”
“We need a portal to get to our date location, so it doesn’t matter. I can open it from anywhere.”
Also ominous.
“Okay, sure. How about… that creole place we went to once?”
Totally not related to how much he missed Alastor’s cooking. Not at all.