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Vox entered the doors of the Hazbin Hotel, head swiveling from side to side in interest as he looked around. There was a bar to the right of him and a small lounge area surrounding a TV to the left. He hummed, waiting a moment before making his way to the bar, each of his steps bouncy.
“Husker!” he greeted cheerfully upon seeing the demon behind the bar. He propped himself on a stool but didn’t fully sit down.
“Vox,” the bartender grumbled. He was focussing extra hard on the glass he was polishing to avoid making eye contact with him. Typical pussy cat.
His smile dropped slightly at the unenthusiastic greeting, but he didn't dare to let it ruin his jolly mood, “Where's dear Al? Do you know?” Vox considered asking for a glass of rum, but decided against it. If Alastor wanted him to drink, he would already have some set out for the both of them.
Husk wordlessly pointed to the stairs. He was looking up from the glass now but not at Vox. The overlord glanced over his shoulder to find Angel Dust behind him, donning a crop top and a pair of stretchy workout leggings, likely for lounging. In one hand, he had a pink bouquet of flowers, and in another, he held a fresh bottle of red wine to share with Husk. His other two wrung together anxiously.
Taking the hint, Vox made like the wind and vanished, materialising again at the top of the staircase through a security camera.
“To the right,” he heard Husk call up to him, and he smiled wider, making his way down the hallway while keeping an eye on the right wall. One thumb tucked into his pants pocket while his opposite hand swung at his side.
Vox was dressed in his finest suit tonight — a fitted teal one with two-toned stripes completed with a burgundy tie tucked into a magenta under-button — still grinning from ear to ear, unlike the way he did for his news shows. Alastor had invited him over for a date at the hotel tonight, and he was not one to deny such a kind offer.
At the end of the hallway, there was a door with an aged brass doorknob, and a matching antler knocker on it. He stopped in front of it and gently tapped the knocker against the mahogany of the door, shifting from foot-to-foot. Should he have brought flowers like Angel had for Husk? Did Alastor even care one way or another?
Before his thoughts could run rampant, Alastor opened the door, his grin a soft genuine one. The Radio Demon wasn't one for public affection, so when he took Vox’s hand without hesitation, it was much more than just a pleasant surprise, and when he gently kissed the corner of her screen, it was even more welcome.
“Hello, *mon ange.* Please do come in, come in,” he greeted, stepping out of the way of the door with an exaggerated step and a sweeping motion.
“Hi, Al,” Vox responded, letting himself be ushered into the room. It was a shock to see his room. One side a relaxing lounge area while the other was a noisy bayou. There was a light jazz playing in the background, an earworm of a merry tune. The door closed quietly.
He made his way to the couch, Alastor close behind, as he cautiously watched the pocket dimension. He didn't know what was in there, but he didn't want to find out. The deer chuckled jovially.
“Oh, Vincent, there's nothing in there that will hurt you so long as I'm with you. You're allowed to… take it easy, hm?” he said, crossing his legs as he sat.
“You promised you'd only call me that in private,” Vox mumbled. There were two glasses of brandy sitting on the low table in front of them. He picked one up, claws clunking against the glass, and took a sip, imagining Alastor pouring it as he anxiously waited upon his arrival.
A reverb sounded from his cane as he laughed again, “We're in my room. That's privacy enough, is it not?”
“You don't know that.”
“My dear, the only other person strange enough to put cameras everywhere for spying on people is that silly associate of yours,” he took the end of his cane with two hands. “Rest assured, no one will hear but us.”
Vox rolled his eyes, but he didn't make any effort away from his boyfriend, instead inching closer on the couch. Alastor didn't protest. In fact, they both stayed like that until he pointed over her shoulder to the bayou.
“Look there. Do you see it?” he asked, nearly whispering. His radio effect had vanished now, attention seized.
Vox hummed, squinting in the general direction of where his finger was directed. A little flicker of light came into view and vanished just as quickly. In just a few moments, there were several flying about. Soon, a little flurry of light overtook the space of the bayou.
“Fireflies?” he asked, shifting slightly to look at Alastor.
“Indeed. Marvelous little things, aren't they? For such a simple purpose too. How far we people are behind these small bugs,” The Radio Demon revelled, gesturing to the whirlwind of light with his deft fingers. “How fascinating.”
He nodded in agreement. It was always best to let Alastor go off like this when he wanted to. It was the easiest, and typically the only, way to learn about him.
“I wish I had something to capture this moment with,” Vox murmured when he had finished. “They're so pretty.” He hadn't seen fireflies in a very, very long time.
Alastor made a disapproving sound in his throat. Even with the bloom of their relationship, the thorns of rivalry had still not yet shriveled. If they truly wanted to, they could tear each other limb from limb in a discussion of what would win and why and how. Though, they both much preferred slipping their jabs into casual conversation. It added a sense of being kept on his toes that Vox quite enjoyed, and there was something to be said from how Alastor continued doing it as well.
“You might be able to catch them on screen now,” he began carefully. “But nothing will beat seeing it in person.”
He grinned, turning to face his boyfriend, “And what are you gonna do with the radio show of yours? Have your listeners hear the sounds of them? What happens when they mate? Then will you have to label it an explicit show?”
He actually laughed at that, “No, Vince. I would simply just keep it on and let them listen, none the wiser.” They exchanged amused smirks at the thought.
“Well,” Vox sighed as if his next words utterly pained him, when they did quite the opposite. “I suppose there's no convincing you of such, but remember that video killed radio for a reason.”
Alastor cackled, a hand coming up to clutch his chest, “And what, pray tell, will kill video, *mon petit chou?*”
He tapped her chin thoughtfully before shrugging, “Nothing, I guess.”
“How very pretentious of you.”
The TV screen chuckled before his eyes widened, suddenly zeroing in on the ears atop Alastor's head. He could turn into quite the relaxed fellow whenever a bit of jazz and soothing alcohol was involved, and Vox knew he wasn't the first to say so. If he really wanted to, he was sure he could reach out to brush out the tufts of fur on the ends, closing their conversation, and ensuring his win.
“Don't you dare,” Alastor admonished, his teeth grinding together as he caught sight of his gaze. His smile twitched.
Vox chuckled and leaned forward, two claws ghosting over the appendage, “And why shouldn't I? They're so cute and big. My sweet fuzzy-wuzzy Al.”
A screech echoed around the room, causing the fireflies to race away in search of safety. And, while his eyes weren't radio dials — yet — Alastor was squirming on the sofa like he absolutely wanted to devour the man. He only went still when he felt Vox's forefinger and thumb gingerly pinching his ear. The tips of them trailed through his thick fur, scratching lightly.
Alastor bleated in surprise, swallowing down a lump in his throat. His knuckles were white around his cane. Vox smiled.
“Vince, my dear, you are playing with fire,” he warned through gritted teeth.
“Now, now,” Vox gestured. “Quite enough of that. Lay down.”
After a moment of hesitation, the taller man stiffly adjusted so his head was on his lap, positioning himself to allow access to his ears. He propped his staff on the armrest of the couch. Vox grinned wide, his fingers journeying to where his ears and head met.
“How's that?” he asked, tenderly petting it from top to bottom.
Alastor let out a small throaty sound, “Pleasant, I suppose. But only because I'm feeling generous.”
“Of course. Only because,” he chuckled, continuing to straighten out his red fur. Such a lovely colour it was.
“How are those Vees of yours?” Alastor asked shakily after a beat of silence, trying to pivot the conversation away from himself. Of course, he had that proper southern-man in him, so it was only appropriate to ask about the people closest to Vox.
“Well,” The TV Demon began, languidly switching to his other ear. “Valentino is being Valentino. He’s high spirited. New kinks, new films-”
Alastor shuddered underneath him.
“-And I haven't gotten too much of Velvette recently. If she's not working, she’s with those two girlfriends of hers, but she's probably well all things considered.”
He squinted, leaning into Vox's touch ever so slightly, “Girlfriends?”
“Oh, yes,” Vox chuckled. “That friend of yours is one of them. Miss Rosie, is it? So sweet.”
“Friend is a very strong word, *mon chéri,*” Alastor growled. “Who’s the other of them?”
“Carmilla. Carmilla Carm-”
He held up a hand, “I know full well who she is, thank you. How’d that manage to happen?”
“You know,” he sighed. “I don’t even know.” He smiled down at his lover, scratching the tip of his ears. Vox pinched the soft tufts of fur at them, fostering another bleat from him.
“Gentle now, Vincent. They’re sensitive,” Alastor warned, squirming. There was a little wiggling in the back of his pants.
Vox burst out loudly in laughter, bringing one hand down to touch the bulge, “Al, is your tail fucking *wagging?*” He thumbed it through his trousers, voice filled with pure glee.
“Dry up,” he growled through his teeth.
“But it’s so cute! My itty-bitty deer,” The TV Demon cooed, pinching it.
Alastor let out a long sigh, his ears pinning back. His back was tense, causing Vox to smile. Using one sharp claw, he drew a jagged line in the back of his trousers. There was a crackly screech in the air.
“VOX!!!” he screeched. “I had those TAILORED!!”
He chuckled, reaching two fingers into the slit in the fabric to grasp his tail and ease it out, “Clearly not very well. They are designed *at all* for this lovely body of yours.”
Once his tail had slotted through the uneven hole, still twitching back and forth, Alastor relented with a resigned sigh. His hands, which had been curled into fists, relaxed.
“So cute,” Vox burbled, watching his tail resume its rhythmic movement while his hand went back to fondle Alastor’s ear.
He switched the track on the radio to a cheerful tone, brightening his voice with affection, though he was likely carefully tucking this memory away for later, “Well, there’s nothing that can be done now, I suppose.”
Vox’s beam was met with a sharp glare.
“Only because I have spares.”
“Yes,” he nodded sagely. “Only because.”
Alastor suddenly sat up, plopping himself onto the Vee’s lap. After a slight delay, he gingerly wrapped his arm around his shoulder, craning his neck. He reached up to keep stroking the fur, feeling the occasional touch of his tail against his thigh.
Slowly, Alastor’s eyes closed, his smile softening as he leaned in. Vox pulled him closer and tenderly kissed the corner of his mouth all the way up to his hairline, then past, up to his ear.
“Vox,” he groaned, but it was more playfully exasperated than frustrated. He lightly pushed his screen away, and kissed his lips, pausing before he spoke again. “Only because you missed the mark on that first time, my dear.”
“Yes, yes,” Vox rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. “Only because.”