All of this was so fragile that waiting seemed to be asking for trouble, like it would break whatever delicate balance they had. It was far more than enough time for Alastor to rethink it, shut it down, and get over the entire thing. Or, worse: find a way to use it against him.
But if he was coming back to do it again after the disaster that was the last time, then maybe there was hope.
Besides, the security of his own room, locked doors, being left alone all night? That was hard to argue with. Especially when he had a feeling that being interrupted would result in someone losing limbs and a whole lot of blood that he didn’t want to clean up.]
Reminder: ruler of two realms. When am I not busy?
[It was being a CEO times a million, but everyone knew to let him sleep, at least. It didn’t do well (for other people) when he didn’t. His hand slid up, the sharp point of his thumb running over one of Alastor’s cheeks, the end sparking ever-so-slightly. If it wouldn’t have made it suspicious, he would’ve forwarded his calls to Velvette.]
Fine. [He looked at throne with a sigh; there would be another time to defile it properly, he supposed.] My room, tonight at eleven. The door locks from the inside and no one has a key but me. Cameras off.
[There was a pause for a moment before he reached down to help put Alastor’s coat back on him, a noticeable contrast from last time.]
If you try to kill me in my sleep, though, I will smite you.
[ His ears went flat back at the question of when Vox wasn't busy, because Alastor was quite needy. That didn't matter in the least bit, because he expected to be more important than every realm. Vox could either make time, or he could not, but the Radio Demon wouldn't accept being on call and only on call until something more important came up. That was far more humiliating than being a prisoner.
His displeased expression lasted past that hand on his cheek, the small shudder that the spark sent through him - a pleasant spark that made him want to nuzzle against the hand that held his face. He placed a hand over the one on his cheek and did just that, rubbing his cheek against the others palm before removing it so he could allow the other to help him put his coat back on.
HBe was still displeased as he buttoned it back up, but at length that sunny smile got a chuckle and his eyes grew a little wider and his grin widened into something more pleasant. ]
... Fine. But if you take your eyes off me for even a second, I'll kill you.
[ Alastor wouldn't. He couldn't. But he could still have a fit if displeased, and what good was that when they wanted the same thing? Because Alastor really...
For Vox alone, he there was...
xxxx... ]
But if you're a good boy, we can sleep together tonight. ♪
[ And that was indeed a promise of it being all night... The aftercare (if Vox was willing to trade experiments with a couple bites with sharp teeth for electric shocks) and cuddling up after and all. That was a fair deal, wasn't it? ]
[Balancing Whatever This Was and being a god was going to take work, a lot of mistakes, and time, but he would figure it out eventually. Hopefully? But that was jumping all the guns considering he didn’t even think This was a This at all. He didn’t know what it was.
But he did know that Alastor’s face felt so good against his palm that he started to want it to be a This. ]
Oh, so you do want the cameras on.
[The laugh was low as he leaned in close to kiss him, a quick thing, something with a brief swipe of his tongue. What the fuck was he doing? How could Vox forgive him after everything? He needed to get his head back on straight, think all this through. This was ridiculous, and-
Suddenly, the screen turned for snow for a second, bright and white, before his extremely shocked face appeared back on it. Was it patterned with the absolute brightest blush possible? Yes. Did the offer of “being a good boy” and “sleeping together tonight” make his fingers stumble as they tried to fit buttons through the holes? Absolutely. He wasn’t a dog, and he certainly wasn’t a good boy, but the way it was said from him did something to him.
He looked at his wrist to see what time it was. Not late enough.
Dammit.]
“Good boys” don’t take over Heaven. [He smoothed his hands down the front of the other demon’s coat, straightening it.] What are you going to do while I’m working? You’re still a prisoner and we do have an image to uphold.
[ The mention of cameras on earned a snarl, but it was only a token reaction before he returned the kiss. Vox knew the answer already, and Alastor knew that he would respect it. They were both old fashioned in that way, where private affairs were private.
Vox wasn't a dog, and in truth the expression wasn't meant to treat him as on so much as it was a gesture of teasing affection, but the reaction made him brighten. There was a glow to that toothy grin, something amused and delighted that hadn't been there in so many years, because he really hadn't expected it. ]
Well, well... [ His breath caught as the other smoothed his jacket out, sucking in a breath and causing his chest to jut out before he exhaled. He used his index finger to tilt Vox's screen up, ] God can have mercy, hmm...? As long as I don't leave here...?
[ He could be a benevolent God who let his prisoner wander within the confines of his wall, surely? Even if they were a little less unpleasant, Alastor would always feel those constraints, that crushing tightness. Nothing would fix his need for freedom.
But this wasn't the same as Hell. And Alastor does fix him with a look that asks if he really means to hide this forever. ]
And I should hope that a god should at least be able to say who he's courting, prisoner or otherwise...
[ Because Vox isn't embarrassed by that, right...? He doesn't see it as harming his image anymore, not when Alastor is willing to accept it despite being the famed solitary Radio Demon, right...? ]
It’s optics, Al. [His mouth was a tight line, conflicted in the moment. He knew the answer Alastor wanted, of course, but he also knew how it would look to the angels he just took over, how it looked to the other Sinners out there. Strength was important during a takeover, in the fresh weeks after a rebellion.] If I seem easy on you, then other people will think I’m weak. That’s when you get assassination attempts, fights, blowback. Everything is delicate right now.
[This probably wasn’t going to go well, and he could feel the weight of it in the air. His hand reached up to cup the side of Alastor’s neck, his sharp thumb running over his jawline like it was a razorblade. The next words came through his speakers, the barest of fuzz tickling at syllables.]
You understand, don’t you?
[Please don’t cut off his hand.]
I’m not saying tie you to a chair again – unless you want me to? - but maybe just wait in here today.
[He wasn’t a secret! He just- this was- there was the image! And appearances! And staying strong in these new, unprecedented times! Alastor would understand. Right?
Right?
Although the one who wasn’t exactly understanding was Vox because courting? Courting was actually a Thing. It was effort and the start of something serious and romantic and he wasn’t- that was- Shit, what was he going to tell Val? Did Alastor understand the level of rage this was going to start? And was it-were they-
Were they actually dating and he didn’t know it? They hadn’t even managed to get beyond kissing without almost murdering one another.
Now that he thought on it, that seemed to be like most of his relationships.]
I – We should probably wait until after tomorrow morning to figure out all that. Courting is a big deal and we might be dead by then.
[ It was all optics, but Alastor wasn't any other person. He was the Radio Demon. He should have been the greatest person to win over. He was the Overlord who had kept a vice grip on Hell for over a century. He was someone who had been hated by his fellow Overlords. He was so nefarious that they though that only Lucifer could overtake him. He had spent so much of his life preparing for the afterlife, and so much of the afterlife just trying to not be looked down on, and so there was no greater insult than to be treated as a liability..
Still, what could he do? His ears pinned back, but what could he do? He just shook his head, because what else was there? He felt Vox's thumb running over his jawline, and what could he do? His shoulders slumped, defeated, because he couldn't cut the other's hand off or do anything else. Alastor was a prisoner and nothing else. He crossed his legs, rested his palms on his knee. ]
... Fine. We'll figure it out tomorrow. I'll go wherever is convenient for you.
[ Alastor didn't move, but his eyes moved somewhere off to the side. He wasn't backing out of their agreement, but Alastor wasn't stupid either. He had given a terms of agreement, and it was clear that those weren't going to be adhered to. Vox whined and cried about him calling it just sex, and he acted like this, and...
Whatever. It didn't matter. It didn't matter, because Alastor did get it. He really did. He might have accepted it, even, except it didn't feel serious at all. It felt like having his own status wiped away, it felt like he meant nothing, it felt like he wasn't meant to ever be taken seriously.
It just didn't feel like it was just optics. It felt like having his stomach cut open and his guts pulled out in a way that that little humiliation tour hadn't.
He let out another sigh and subtly leaned forward, drawing his knees up closer to his chest. ]
It's fine. I'm just tired of being tied to a chair.
[Of course. Of course. To Hell, the Radio Demon was nefarious, he was what lurked in Overlord’s nightmares, he a demon with the promise of death and dismemberment for the audiences of all. His name was spoken with all the fear and reverence one could have for something far more deadly and stronger than them.
But to Vox, he was Alastor.
And in its own way, that was powerful. People were assets, pawns to move around the board, an adoring and dedicated crowd who were ultimately faceless, nameless, expendable. They were shares on a graph, eyes on a television: disposable and easy to manipulate. Why did he need anything from them other than devotion and allegiance? Why did he need their names, their company?
But he wanted both from Alastor, name and company. He acknowledged him, he was distinct in a shadow of shapes, full formed. His eyes mattered. He mattered most. And that made Al far more dangerous and important to him than all of Hell combined.
Not that he would – or maybe even could – explain it to him. Feelings were complex and convoluted things that made him vulnerable and weak, that opened him up far too much. Better to have the bravado of a man in charge (which he was! He was in charge, dammit!) than letting the quiet reality of Alastor being the key to everything settle at the forefront. His eyes flickered up to those ears, then back down to his face.
He had fucked up somehow. He didn’t know how exactly, and it wasn’t as egregious as talking about fucking Val in various chairs (don’t bring up the bed, don’t bring up the bed, do not bring up the bed), but it was something. Vox pulled his hand away, moving it to rest on one of Alastor’s knees.]
No more chair. Unless you want to…?
[His eyebrows bopped up and down with a hinted intention, before he started to stand up. Once he was on his feet, he held out a hand to Alastor as a silent offer for help if he so chose.]
You can stay here; I can do Walk and Talks. [Phone in meetings, getting bombarded while he walked through the halls, the usual.]
[ Alastor responded to the first suggestion with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. But there was only a moment of hesitation before he took Vox's hand and pulled himself up and off the floor. He let his hand linger for just a moment before he took it back to begin the process of fixing his own appearance.
He wasn't entirely satisfied with the outcome, but Vox was right. This wasn't courting, and Alastor wouldn't want it to be. They didn't have the sort of affection that was required for that. This was one more of their games, and Alastor wasn't offering anything other than to spend the night with him. Even that could be said to be for Alastor's own benefit, spurred on by some cocktail of curiosity and convenience.
Right. That was all it was.
Alastor shook his head. His staff appeared in his hand. He held it in one hand and cupped the microphone with the other. ]
You don't need to worry about that. People only see me when I want them to.
[ That was true enough. There was no escaping this prison that he was kept in, and he was trapped on one spot so long as Vox said that he was, but that was all. In the end, the Radio Demon was as impossible to catch as the shadows themselves. Still, he wasn't in a position where he could say no. He just wanted to keep some shred of dignity in all of this. He shrugged. ]
I can stay here, and you can go do what you need to.
[ It was probably the best response that Vox could ask for. ]
[That would be enough, right? Alastor would come back tonight, he’d uphold what he said? Vox didn’t need to worry about anything else other than possibly being murdered in his sleep, which…felt pretty normal as far as all things went.
And yet, here he was feeling reluctant to leave, like if time got in the way it might make Alastor rethink this. Might make himself rethink this stupid, stupid thing. There were a million reasons why it shouldn’t happen, a million reasons he should tie him back to the chair or do his execution, and a million questions like was he just doing this to stop Vox from that killing Charlie order? just bouncing around in his rectangular head.
But he reached out with both his hands and settled them on the Radio Demon’s shoulders like the fool Vox was, leaned forward, and kissed him again with a little spark. This path to Hell was well-worn, familiar, and he kept walking it over and over again, each time with different shoes.]
That works. [They could work out the secrecy later, work out whatever this was later (was it a even a thing to work out?). Future Vox problems could be analyzed with returns reviewed, could decide what the best strategy was; looking at it that way made him feel safely disconnected instead of these raw moments right now.
He wasn’t sure which he preferred. He just knew which one was smarter.
Vox pulled away and turned to walk across the room to head towards the door. Already he was taking the Do Not Disturb off his phone, his screen flickering as the calls started. He stopped for a second, looking back at him.
I’m looking forward to tonight.
But he couldn’t actually say that, so instead he just smiled.]
[ There was no point in overthinking it. For the moment they had an agreement, and with that a momentary peace. They kissed once more, and that seemed to seal the deal between the two of them.
It really was for the best. Vox was already getting called upon again. If they'd continued here, then they would have been interrupted, and with that any chance they had of continuing would have been lost for good. There was a chance that one of them would choose to back out of this now, but at least something could still be salvaged from that.
And in the interim, this was still a victory. Alastor could do as he pleased. He had the freedom to act. There was plenty that he could do with that, albeit not immediately. It made the entire situation seem less hopeless, because nothing had fundamentally changed. And maybe they could get somewhere, with this torrid affair of theirs - something more than having things come to a halt at the starting line. A win-win scenario.
[There was an impossible amount of overthinking happening between now and then, and more than once he saw Velvette and Val give each other questioning looks when Vox didn’t answer their questions right away. Or the meeting with Carmilla that resulted in incomplete PowerPoint presentations. Or Zestial asking about blahblaholdpeoplestuff. Not that he needed to answer to any of them; he was in charge now, he was a god. But he did explain that this new role took a lot of work, more than originally planned, so presentations and questions needed to fuck off for the moment.
Really, his mind was just wrapped up in Whatever The Satan Just Happened. Alastor just roaming (mostly) free, a threat of death that they both knew probably wasn’t going to happen now, an order ignore, a date for tonight. A date. Was it a date? Shit, should he bring something?
He was overthinking it. He knew he was overthinking it, and when the hour came (and he cited a headache and piles of work to Val, not tonight, babe), he had a bottle of unopened whiskey on the table a box of cigarettes on the nightstand. Two whiskey tumblers star next to it, waiting for them.
The infamous last meal.
Vox played with the idea of leaving his coat off, maybe sitting with his shirt open or the tie off, or-or-or- But he ultimately decided that the full experience led to a good story, and that included the slowburn of everything. Jacket, tie, it all stayed on. Certainly it had nothing to do with how good it felt when Alastor took it off him.
He did pour himself a drink, though.
And then had another one.
And a third just because.
He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t. He was in control of this situation. This was fine. This was fine, as he sat on the edge of his bed, swirling amber in the bottom of his tumbler.
Alastor would come.
It wouldn’t fall apart again. Maybe they would only fight half of the time. That would be considered a vast improvement.]
[ There was certainly enough to keep him busy. True to form, Alastor had no difficulty avoiding notice. The building was large enough to avoid bumping into anyone without much effort, and there wasn't anyone present who had reason to be looking for the Radio Demon. It made matters simple enough, and it gave him time to organize his own thoughts.
This was all a terrible idea. They weren't meant for this sort of closeness. Alastor wasn't built for something like this. Their efforts had proven that much. But that was only him overthinking things, because Vox had made it quite clear that he wasn't looking for anything serious. He was wishy-washy as one could be, and it seemed that he wanted Alastor to take it seriously without being willing to do so himself. And that was better, because neither of them should be putting themselves in a position such as this to begin with.
But none of that was stopping them, and Alastor was nothing if not punctual. The knock on the door came right on time, and he pushed the door open and stepped in. His own jacket had been taken off and was draped over one arm, giving him the appearance of someone who was returning home at the end of the day. He felt somewhat exposed without it, perhaps a bit too casual and too comfortable for his own liking, but Vox was the only one here to see it. They'd known each other for decades, and it was that which allowed him to behave in this way. ]
I'm here... I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?
[Dammit. He shouldn’t have worn his coat after all.
There was an awkward moment where he didn’t know if he should get up or stay there on the bed, then silently berated himself for overthinking. He wasn’t nervous – why would he be nervous!? Ha! ha. – but there was something more than the normal electricity buzzing under his skin. Finishing the drink in the glass, he set it on the nightstand beside the bottle.
One hand held itself up, the hologram project of a clock interface showing up, accurate to the second. It cast a soft blue glow across his coat sleeve.]
You know you’re on time. It’s part of the business.
[Broadcasts couldn’t be late, after all; inconsistency resulted in lower audience scores.
His fingers curled into a fist, making the hologram disappear. Phones were already turned off. One cable slid out, snaked across the floor and locked the door. No one could interrupt them. Nothing could happen. The only one who could fuck this up were the two people in the room.
So, that meant that there was still an eighty-three percent chance of it being a disaster.
He pointed at the bottle and the cigarettes.]
I think I got your favorites.
[Except he knew for sure he did. Perfect. He remembered those little details as much as he tried to forget them, but they came in handy now.]
Unless you already had dinner.
[There was a small smirk. How could there not be?]
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no subject
All of this was so fragile that waiting seemed to be asking for trouble, like it would break whatever delicate balance they had. It was far more than enough time for Alastor to rethink it, shut it down, and get over the entire thing. Or, worse: find a way to use it against him.
But if he was coming back to do it again after the disaster that was the last time, then maybe there was hope.
Besides, the security of his own room, locked doors, being left alone all night? That was hard to argue with. Especially when he had a feeling that being interrupted would result in someone losing limbs and a whole lot of blood that he didn’t want to clean up.]
Reminder: ruler of two realms. When am I not busy?
[It was being a CEO times a million, but everyone knew to let him sleep, at least. It didn’t do well (for other people) when he didn’t. His hand slid up, the sharp point of his thumb running over one of Alastor’s cheeks, the end sparking ever-so-slightly. If it wouldn’t have made it suspicious, he would’ve forwarded his calls to Velvette.]
Fine. [He looked at throne with a sigh; there would be another time to defile it properly, he supposed.] My room, tonight at eleven. The door locks from the inside and no one has a key but me. Cameras off.
[There was a pause for a moment before he reached down to help put Alastor’s coat back on him, a noticeable contrast from last time.]
If you try to kill me in my sleep, though, I will smite you.
[His smile was exceptionally bright and sunny.]
no subject
His displeased expression lasted past that hand on his cheek, the small shudder that the spark sent through him - a pleasant spark that made him want to nuzzle against the hand that held his face. He placed a hand over the one on his cheek and did just that, rubbing his cheek against the others palm before removing it so he could allow the other to help him put his coat back on.
HBe was still displeased as he buttoned it back up, but at length that sunny smile got a chuckle and his eyes grew a little wider and his grin widened into something more pleasant. ]
... Fine. But if you take your eyes off me for even a second, I'll kill you.
[ Alastor wouldn't. He couldn't. But he could still have a fit if displeased, and what good was that when they wanted the same thing? Because Alastor really...
For Vox alone, he there was...
xxxx... ]
But if you're a good boy, we can sleep together tonight. ♪
[ And that was indeed a promise of it being all night... The aftercare (if Vox was willing to trade experiments with a couple bites with sharp teeth for electric shocks) and cuddling up after and all. That was a fair deal, wasn't it? ]
no subject
But he did know that Alastor’s face felt so good against his palm that he started to want it to be a This. ]
Oh, so you do want the cameras on.
[The laugh was low as he leaned in close to kiss him, a quick thing, something with a brief swipe of his tongue. What the fuck was he doing? How could Vox forgive him after everything? He needed to get his head back on straight, think all this through. This was ridiculous, and-
Suddenly, the screen turned for snow for a second, bright and white, before his extremely shocked face appeared back on it. Was it patterned with the absolute brightest blush possible? Yes. Did the offer of “being a good boy” and “sleeping together tonight” make his fingers stumble as they tried to fit buttons through the holes? Absolutely. He wasn’t a dog, and he certainly wasn’t a good boy, but the way it was said from him did something to him.
He looked at his wrist to see what time it was. Not late enough.
Dammit.]
“Good boys” don’t take over Heaven. [He smoothed his hands down the front of the other demon’s coat, straightening it.] What are you going to do while I’m working? You’re still a prisoner and we do have an image to uphold.
no subject
Vox wasn't a dog, and in truth the expression wasn't meant to treat him as on so much as it was a gesture of teasing affection, but the reaction made him brighten. There was a glow to that toothy grin, something amused and delighted that hadn't been there in so many years, because he really hadn't expected it. ]
Well, well... [ His breath caught as the other smoothed his jacket out, sucking in a breath and causing his chest to jut out before he exhaled. He used his index finger to tilt Vox's screen up, ] God can have mercy, hmm...? As long as I don't leave here...?
[ He could be a benevolent God who let his prisoner wander within the confines of his wall, surely? Even if they were a little less unpleasant, Alastor would always feel those constraints, that crushing tightness. Nothing would fix his need for freedom.
But this wasn't the same as Hell. And Alastor does fix him with a look that asks if he really means to hide this forever. ]
And I should hope that a god should at least be able to say who he's courting, prisoner or otherwise...
[ Because Vox isn't embarrassed by that, right...? He doesn't see it as harming his image anymore, not when Alastor is willing to accept it despite being the famed solitary Radio Demon, right...? ]
no subject
It’s optics, Al. [His mouth was a tight line, conflicted in the moment. He knew the answer Alastor wanted, of course, but he also knew how it would look to the angels he just took over, how it looked to the other Sinners out there. Strength was important during a takeover, in the fresh weeks after a rebellion.] If I seem easy on you, then other people will think I’m weak. That’s when you get assassination attempts, fights, blowback. Everything is delicate right now.
[This probably wasn’t going to go well, and he could feel the weight of it in the air. His hand reached up to cup the side of Alastor’s neck, his sharp thumb running over his jawline like it was a razorblade. The next words came through his speakers, the barest of fuzz tickling at syllables.]
You understand, don’t you?
[Please don’t cut off his hand.]
I’m not saying tie you to a chair again – unless you want me to? - but maybe just wait in here today.
[He wasn’t a secret! He just- this was- there was the image! And appearances! And staying strong in these new, unprecedented times! Alastor would understand. Right?
Right?
Although the one who wasn’t exactly understanding was Vox because courting? Courting was actually a Thing. It was effort and the start of something serious and romantic and he wasn’t- that was- Shit, what was he going to tell Val? Did Alastor understand the level of rage this was going to start? And was it-were they-
Were they actually dating and he didn’t know it? They hadn’t even managed to get beyond kissing without almost murdering one another.
Now that he thought on it, that seemed to be like most of his relationships.]
I – We should probably wait until after tomorrow morning to figure out all that. Courting is a big deal and we might be dead by then.
[Terrible save.]
no subject
Still, what could he do? His ears pinned back, but what could he do? He just shook his head, because what else was there? He felt Vox's thumb running over his jawline, and what could he do? His shoulders slumped, defeated, because he couldn't cut the other's hand off or do anything else. Alastor was a prisoner and nothing else. He crossed his legs, rested his palms on his knee. ]
... Fine. We'll figure it out tomorrow. I'll go wherever is convenient for you.
[ Alastor didn't move, but his eyes moved somewhere off to the side. He wasn't backing out of their agreement, but Alastor wasn't stupid either. He had given a terms of agreement, and it was clear that those weren't going to be adhered to. Vox whined and cried about him calling it just sex, and he acted like this, and...
Whatever. It didn't matter. It didn't matter, because Alastor did get it. He really did. He might have accepted it, even, except it didn't feel serious at all. It felt like having his own status wiped away, it felt like he meant nothing, it felt like he wasn't meant to ever be taken seriously.
It just didn't feel like it was just optics. It felt like having his stomach cut open and his guts pulled out in a way that that little humiliation tour hadn't.
He let out another sigh and subtly leaned forward, drawing his knees up closer to his chest. ]
It's fine. I'm just tired of being tied to a chair.
[ It was fine. ]
no subject
But to Vox, he was Alastor.
And in its own way, that was powerful. People were assets, pawns to move around the board, an adoring and dedicated crowd who were ultimately faceless, nameless, expendable. They were shares on a graph, eyes on a television: disposable and easy to manipulate. Why did he need anything from them other than devotion and allegiance? Why did he need their names, their company?
But he wanted both from Alastor, name and company. He acknowledged him, he was distinct in a shadow of shapes, full formed. His eyes mattered. He mattered most. And that made Al far more dangerous and important to him than all of Hell combined.
Not that he would – or maybe even could – explain it to him. Feelings were complex and convoluted things that made him vulnerable and weak, that opened him up far too much. Better to have the bravado of a man in charge (which he was! He was in charge, dammit!) than letting the quiet reality of Alastor being the key to everything settle at the forefront. His eyes flickered up to those ears, then back down to his face.
He had fucked up somehow. He didn’t know how exactly, and it wasn’t as egregious as talking about fucking Val in various chairs (don’t bring up the bed, don’t bring up the bed, do not bring up the bed), but it was something. Vox pulled his hand away, moving it to rest on one of Alastor’s knees.]
No more chair. Unless you want to…?
[His eyebrows bopped up and down with a hinted intention, before he started to stand up. Once he was on his feet, he held out a hand to Alastor as a silent offer for help if he so chose.]
You can stay here; I can do Walk and Talks. [Phone in meetings, getting bombarded while he walked through the halls, the usual.]
What will you tell the others if they see you?
no subject
He wasn't entirely satisfied with the outcome, but Vox was right. This wasn't courting, and Alastor wouldn't want it to be. They didn't have the sort of affection that was required for that. This was one more of their games, and Alastor wasn't offering anything other than to spend the night with him. Even that could be said to be for Alastor's own benefit, spurred on by some cocktail of curiosity and convenience.
Right. That was all it was.
Alastor shook his head. His staff appeared in his hand. He held it in one hand and cupped the microphone with the other. ]
You don't need to worry about that. People only see me when I want them to.
[ That was true enough. There was no escaping this prison that he was kept in, and he was trapped on one spot so long as Vox said that he was, but that was all. In the end, the Radio Demon was as impossible to catch as the shadows themselves. Still, he wasn't in a position where he could say no. He just wanted to keep some shred of dignity in all of this. He shrugged. ]
I can stay here, and you can go do what you need to.
[ It was probably the best response that Vox could ask for. ]
no subject
And yet, here he was feeling reluctant to leave, like if time got in the way it might make Alastor rethink this. Might make himself rethink this stupid, stupid thing. There were a million reasons why it shouldn’t happen, a million reasons he should tie him back to the chair or do his execution, and a million questions like was he just doing this to stop Vox from that killing Charlie order? just bouncing around in his rectangular head.
But he reached out with both his hands and settled them on the Radio Demon’s shoulders like the fool Vox was, leaned forward, and kissed him again with a little spark. This path to Hell was well-worn, familiar, and he kept walking it over and over again, each time with different shoes.]
That works. [They could work out the secrecy later, work out whatever this was later (was it a even a thing to work out?). Future Vox problems could be analyzed with returns reviewed, could decide what the best strategy was; looking at it that way made him feel safely disconnected instead of these raw moments right now.
He wasn’t sure which he preferred. He just knew which one was smarter.
Vox pulled away and turned to walk across the room to head towards the door. Already he was taking the Do Not Disturb off his phone, his screen flickering as the calls started. He stopped for a second, looking back at him.
I’m looking forward to tonight.
But he couldn’t actually say that, so instead he just smiled.]
See you in a few hours.
no subject
It really was for the best. Vox was already getting called upon again. If they'd continued here, then they would have been interrupted, and with that any chance they had of continuing would have been lost for good. There was a chance that one of them would choose to back out of this now, but at least something could still be salvaged from that.
And in the interim, this was still a victory. Alastor could do as he pleased. He had the freedom to act. There was plenty that he could do with that, albeit not immediately. It made the entire situation seem less hopeless, because nothing had fundamentally changed. And maybe they could get somewhere, with this torrid affair of theirs - something more than having things come to a halt at the starting line. A win-win scenario.
He lifted a hand in a little wave. ]
See you soon, Vox.
no subject
Really, his mind was just wrapped up in Whatever The Satan Just Happened. Alastor just roaming (mostly) free, a threat of death that they both knew probably wasn’t going to happen now, an order ignore, a date for tonight. A date. Was it a date? Shit, should he bring something?
He was overthinking it. He knew he was overthinking it, and when the hour came (and he cited a headache and piles of work to Val, not tonight, babe), he had a bottle of unopened whiskey on the table a box of cigarettes on the nightstand. Two whiskey tumblers star next to it, waiting for them.
The infamous last meal.
Vox played with the idea of leaving his coat off, maybe sitting with his shirt open or the tie off, or-or-or- But he ultimately decided that the full experience led to a good story, and that included the slowburn of everything. Jacket, tie, it all stayed on.
Certainly it had nothing to do with how good it felt when Alastor took it off him.He did pour himself a drink, though.
And then had another one.
And a third just because.
He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t. He was in control of this situation. This was fine. This was fine, as he sat on the edge of his bed, swirling amber in the bottom of his tumbler.
Alastor would come.
It wouldn’t fall apart again. Maybe they would only fight half of the time. That would be considered a vast improvement.]
no subject
This was all a terrible idea. They weren't meant for this sort of closeness. Alastor wasn't built for something like this. Their efforts had proven that much. But that was only him overthinking things, because Vox had made it quite clear that he wasn't looking for anything serious. He was wishy-washy as one could be, and it seemed that he wanted Alastor to take it seriously without being willing to do so himself. And that was better, because neither of them should be putting themselves in a position such as this to begin with.
But none of that was stopping them, and Alastor was nothing if not punctual. The knock on the door came right on time, and he pushed the door open and stepped in. His own jacket had been taken off and was draped over one arm, giving him the appearance of someone who was returning home at the end of the day. He felt somewhat exposed without it, perhaps a bit too casual and too comfortable for his own liking, but Vox was the only one here to see it. They'd known each other for decades, and it was that which allowed him to behave in this way. ]
I'm here... I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?
no subject
There was an awkward moment where he didn’t know if he should get up or stay there on the bed, then silently berated himself for overthinking. He wasn’t nervous – why would he be nervous!? Ha! ha. – but there was something more than the normal electricity buzzing under his skin. Finishing the drink in the glass, he set it on the nightstand beside the bottle.
One hand held itself up, the hologram project of a clock interface showing up, accurate to the second. It cast a soft blue glow across his coat sleeve.]
You know you’re on time. It’s part of the business.
[Broadcasts couldn’t be late, after all; inconsistency resulted in lower audience scores.
His fingers curled into a fist, making the hologram disappear. Phones were already turned off. One cable slid out, snaked across the floor and locked the door. No one could interrupt them. Nothing could happen. The only one who could fuck this up were the two people in the room.
So, that meant that there was still an eighty-three percent chance of it being a disaster.
He pointed at the bottle and the cigarettes.]
I think I got your favorites.
[Except he knew for sure he did. Perfect. He remembered those little details as much as he tried to forget them, but they came in handy now.]
Unless you already had dinner.
[There was a small smirk. How could there not be?]