Archive of Our Own

It had taken years to build the sort of friendship that Vox felt meant he could even broach the topic. 

Sure, at first, none of it had even been in his plan. Initially, he'd just had the idea to get close to the Radio Demon, someone everyone talked about like he was something to fear and respect. The fact that the man was called The Radio Demon said enough to tell Vox he was top of the food chain. Initially, he'd just wanted to be on the good side of someone like that. He'd wanted to be able to leverage that power to his own benefit, if possible. Maybe usurp that power someday.

Alastor, though, had not been at all what he'd expected. He'd been funny, the sort of charming and witty that caught Vox off guard at times. Vox had always thought of himself as the one who was charming and witty, good at drawing in a crowd, but Alastor had an audience of listeners both in life and in hell. Vox had a vast following before his death, but Alastor… He'd thrived in a way Vox had never dreamed anyone could after dying, based on what he had heard of Alastor’s arrival in Hell. He wanted to be part of something like that.

Early on, Vox discovered—and had to come to terms with the fact—that he genuinely liked Alastor. That had certainly not been part of his plan. So, after some time, he ditched the plan entirely. He refocused on simply trying to be a friend. Sure, friendship in hell was complicated, and at times it was more about faking it to get by and continue surviving, but… with Alastor, it was easy. He realized they made an incredible team, in part because of how well they got along. He loved going out for drinks with him, talking business and swapping stories.

A few years in, though, Vox came to the realization that when he was with Alastor, there were times when his chest felt tight. His pulse raced. His stomach fluttered. Alastor would smile just so, and Vox would swear the room got a little brighter around them. Their hands would brush and his breath would catch. He knew, of course, what it felt like to be romantically interested in someone, but he'd honestly never expected to find that in Hell, of all places. He'd certainly never expected to find it with Alastor. He’d expected to chase his own ambition, as he always had, and to spend his days winding various sinners around his fingers so they would do his bidding. Love had never been anything he’d dreamed of.

Time passed and, to his disappointment, things stayed the same. They were closer, sure, but hints he would drop would either be ignored or entirely missed. He couldn’t always tell if Alastor actually noticed his subtle flirtations. It was frustrating, considering how little it took to draw anyone else in when he wanted to. Anyone else was fodder for his plans, like a lamb to slaughter. Alastor was the one he actually wanted to draw in and keep close, to raise up alongside himself and wield their powers together. More than anything, he wanted to spend his afterlife beside the Radio Demon.

Eventually, he decided it was time to make a move. 

“I’ve been thinking, Al…” Vox trailed off, trying to find the exact words he wanted. They were walking to the bar, their usual hangout to decompress after a long day—and every day in hell was a long one. 

Alastor smirked at him. “A dangerous pastime, good man.” 

Vox scoffed and rolled his eyes, playfully waving him off. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Anyhow. I’ve been thinking, you and I get along really well. We spend plenty of time together—“ 

“That we do. What else have you noticed with that terribly perceptive box you call a head?” Alastor’s expression was fond, amused, and Vox bit his lower lip. 

“I’d like for you and I to go on a date.” He’d said it. Finally. He’d put it out there in a bit more of a rush than he’d planned, and blunt as could be. But there were no takebacks. Ugh… he hoped he wouldn’t ever need to wish for takebacks. 

Alastor stared at him, blinking with wide eyes, and Vox’s smile wobbled slightly. “You… want me to go on a date with you?” Alastor’s voice wavered ever so slightly with surprise. 

Vox could feel the way his smile was starting to look more like a wobbly line. “Yeah. There’s this garden with carnivorous plants. I don’t know anything about plant life in hell, but I remembered you mentioned you lived in a swap before so I thought maybe—“ 

“You thought we could see them together…” Alastor’s voice was soft, and Vox thought he sounded a bit… flattered? “Alright. Yes. I’ll go on a date with you, Vox.” 

He’d said yes. He’d said yes! Electricity zipped briefly between Vox’s antennae, and he hopped off of his stool, grin returning full force as he pumped a fist into the air. “Excellent! Wonderful. Oh, you won’t regret it, Al! I’ll make sure it’s a good time. Uh— How’s… This Friday at 5pm? We can meet at the garden. Here, I’ll write the address!” 

Hastily, he yanked out a business card from his pocket alongside a pen and scribbled it down, passing it off to Alastor who took it gingerly and folded it into a pocket. It was only then Vox realized how amused he looked—how gentle the curve of his smile was. Vox noted with relief that he didn’t look like he was going to tease. It was a good look on Alastor, a softness without the usual bend toward cruelty… Vox was pretty sure if Alastor kept looking at him like that he would overheat. He didn’t want him to look away—or to look at anyone else with that soft expression ever again. He wanted that to be for him alone.

“I’ll be there at five sharp, old pal.” 

That Friday, Vox had spent a good couple of hours laying out every possible clothing combination that made sense from his entire wardrobe, staring hard at each one. He held them all up in the mirror, had even tried a few on, just to see. None of them eased the fluttering knot of anxiety that sat heavily in his belly. He was left pacing, overthinking all of it. He was well aware he never obsessed over the intricate details of his clothes like this—down to the socks—but he couldn’t stop. 

Dragging a hand down his face and glaring upward, he walked a tight little circle, groaning. He stopped to huff at the pile of fabric. He couldn’t decide which one said ‘I really like you and I’m happy to be here’ without also saying ‘I’m overly attached and please don’t leave me’? Fuck, why was it so hard? It was just clothes… He grumbled under his breath, stalking toward the options. “Alastor wears basically the same thing all the time, so he isn’t even going to care!” 

He frowned, finally relenting and grabbing up a yellow sweater he knew looked nice on him. It was a good start, and it reminded him of Alastor’s smile. Wiggling his fingers as he studied the other options, he nodded to himself. The yellow would look good beneath a navy blazer, and he couldn’t go wrong with black slacks. It wasn’t necessarily perfect—nothing would be for this— but it was something. He pulled the outfit on, adjusting the sleeves and the turtle neck on the sweater for a moment, and then stood in front of the mirror. Okay… it would work. It was a good enough combination, he felt, and it was a step up from his usual clothes. He just had to hope Alastor liked it. He gave himself a nervous but relieved smile, nodding once.

Next, he hurried over to his desk, picking up a notepad and pen as his brows furrowed. He hummed down at it before drawing a line across one item on a list. 

1. Pick place

2. Ask Alastor out

3. Wash up

4. Pick outfit

5. Get a gift

6. Don’t fuck it all up   

A gift… he’d been struggling to figure out exactly what might work. Really, Alastor wasn’t hard to think of things for. That much he felt he was good enough at. The tough part with Alastor was picking something that met the man’s—often ridiculously high—personal standards when it came to quality. He flipped the page on his notepad, brows furrowing as he studied his options, along with the notes he’d made.

• Flowers— what kind? Look up hardy options from the south. Pick something with meaning?

• Books— murder mysteries or true crime. Maybe find one about him? Do those exist?

• Music— easy. Classics from his age, jazz, blues, something with a good brass section and piano. What does he have?

• Alcohol— whiskey. Easy. Boring! Don’t do this one.

• Meat— most dubious, but most rewarding potentially. Sinner meat? What cut? Fatty or lean? Any favorite butchers? 

He sighed. Maybe he’d been lying to himself about how easy choosing a gift would be, because he still hadn’t fucking decided on one. Flowers were always nice, and he could pair that with any of them. Books felt a little dicey, the more he thought about it. What if he picked one Al already had or that he’d previously read—or worse, one he hated? Music was one he thought Alastor would really appreciate, but since he’d never managed to have a peek in Alastor’s home, he had no way of knowing what the man already owned, and getting him a duplicate, or—again—finding one he hated. Alcohol was the safest bet, it was true but… His eyes fell on the note beside it, and he nodded, sighing again. Boring was right. He didn’t want to bore or disappoint Alastor, and all of those had the chance to do just that. So…

That left… meat. He recalled a few of the areas Alastor had mentioned frequenting, and he knew there were butcher shops there. So… it wouldn’t be too hard to find somewhere Alastor had visited before, he was sure. Worst case, he could ask them. The real question came down to what kind of meat to get. Should he get a big hunk, or did Alastor like something daintier? There were so many options, it made his head spin.

He dragged a hand down his screen, leaving his room, and moved out into the living room. When he’d been trying to decide and started his list, he had grabbed a few research books about each of his gift options from a shop, and he sat down to flip through one of them. It was a cook book specifically about different kinds of steak found throughout Pentagram City’s butcher shops—including an entire section dedicated to Cannibal Town—and he opened up to one of the pages that explained the differences, leaning back to skim over it again. Despite his research, he still felt out of his depth.

Of course, he was on a mission for a reason, and impressing and surprising Alastor was important enough to him that his half-assed skimming led to hurried scanning, and then that scanning led to him fully reading and refreshing himself on all there was to know about the options he had. Just as he was settling on what he hoped might be the right final choice, he glanced up at the time. Then, he did a double take. 

Ten till five. Not only did he not have time to grab a single thing on the way to the date, he was going to be woefully late unless he bolted out of the door right that moment. Cursing, he leapt from the couch and grabbed his wallet and keys, rushing as fast as he could manage. Electric teleportation was fast, but it was tiring, and he was still getting the hang of it on days he didn’t have time to really focus the skill. Besides that, he didn’t want to wear himself out before he even got to the date. This day was not a day to take his time.

He ran along the sidewalks, dodging propositions and murder attempts—most of which he was confident weren’t actually aimed at him—until he finally found himself nearing the gardens. He paused long enough to double over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Smoothing out his clothes as he stood upright once more, he took in one deep, slow breath, eyes closing. He could do this… The nerves he might have had any other day had been replaced by panic as he’d hurried out the door. They were catching up to him, yes, but he was just glad to have made it to the gardens at all. He checked the time and groaned. 

He was late. 5:05pm. 

He just hoped Alastor was magnanimous enough to wait for him. 

Stepping inside, he tugged at the lapel of his blazer and adjusted his hat. He meandered along the pathway inside, studying the plants in the space in mild surprise. Some of them were huge, and unlike anything he’d ever seen on earth. There were also vastly more of them than he’d anticipated. Ads for the place had mentioned how many species there were, but… seeing it put that number in a much sharper perspective. His gaze swept around the space as he made his way through, teeth working his lower lip.

Vox found himself walking more slowly the further in he went, both in an effort to collect himself, and also out of sheer awe of the place. He paused when he finally caught sight of Alastor, who was standing with his back to him, gazing up at a massive, toothy thing that looked like it would be able to scoop him up in one bite. Leave it to Hell to actually have man eating flytraps… Alastor wasn’t moving, and Vox took a moment to just appreciate the sight of him. The way he held himself, so sure and steady… He found once again that he wanted to trail fingers through his hair, trace those ears and see if they were as fluffy as they looked. He was a little amused to see Alastor—as he had anticipated—wearing his usual outfit, but something about it seemed somewhat more polished. Fresher. Vox imagined him with a closet full of the same coat and pants, and had to stifle a soft chuckle. Still, he had to admit he cut a good figure in the look. 

He approached slowly, sheepish, and as he grew near, one of Alastor’s ears flickered before he turned to face him. The Radio Demon gave him a wry smile, reaching out to tap his staff atop Vox’s head lightly. 

“You’re late, picture box. I’m surprised at you! Here I expected to find you here well before me.”

Vox grimaced, and then gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Al, I got caught up, uh… innn… traffic.” 

Alastor lifted a brow, and then drew closer, pointing the end of his staff close to Vox’s face. Vox lifted his hands up defensively, but didn’t drop his smile. Alastor’s body language was playful, and his smile twisted higher even as his brows furrowed. “Ohh, they didn’t have a vehicle large enough to house your boxy noggin, hm? Your ego has certainly given you quite the large head, I’ll give you that, but I’m fairly certain I’ve seen you have no trouble hailing a cab.” He cocked one hip, arms crossing as his head tilted. “Come now, don’t lie to me. I’m so curious what it could have possibly been, to have you avoiding it. Something embarrassing… how juicy!”

“No, no, it wasn’t anything embarrassing! I just—“

“Overslept? Got stuck in the restroom? Was there a line to leave your apartment complex? A surprise acid rain specifically on your doorstep?” Alastor chuckled softly at the fuzzy blue blush blooming across Vox’s cheeks. He reached up to trail a finger over it, eyes half-lidding in amusement. 

“Wh-what? No. I wasn’t— It wasn’t anything like—“ Vox scoffed as he tried to laugh off the heat blooming in his cheeks, eyes rolling, but he was struggling to focus beyond the finger on his screen. “I was… doing research.” 

This wasn’t the answer Alastor expected, clearly, and his brows lifted again, head tilting the other way. His hand fell away from Vox’s screen. “Research? Whatever on, my dear?”

Vox stared hard at him. My dear. Those two words echoed through his mind for a moment, and about the time Alastor was going to prod him, make sure he hadn’t frozen completely, he shook himself and sighed. “Meat. I was researching cuts of meat.”

Alastor’s head seemed to continue its tilt to the side, confusion clear. “Meat… Vox, my good man, if you needed advice for steak, you know I would be happy to instruct you on the culinary—“

“I was going to get it for you, Al. So I was looking up the butcher shops here and the differences between meat qualities and cuts and… and then it was nearly 5, so I had to run.” He huffed. “I couldn’t ask you because it was for you, okay?”

Alastor’s smile softened into something fond and warm—endeared—and he hooked an arm with Vox and tugged him closer. “Oh, you darling man. Who knew you were so sentimental? I might have brought you something. I suppose now it’s good I didn’t. Though I debated a bouquet, I assumed you might get quite enough of the plants here.” He gestured around the garden with his staff, and then peered at the plants closest to them with a smirk. “Oh dear…”

Alastor had considered bringing him flowers. Alastor had considered bringing him a gift on their date! Vox couldn’t stop the grin that spread over his screen, ignoring the way his face felt warm again. It had bloomed in his chest too, his heart clenching. He blinked and followed Alastor’s gaze as his mind caught up to the rest of what he’d said, though, and then his brows bounced to the top of his screen. The carnivorous plants Alastor had been studying were all pointing their attention to the pair of them, and he was quite sure more than a few of them were slobbering. He could almost call it outright drooling. 

“Think… maybe we talked too much about meat?” Vox laughed softly. “Or maybe they just got a whiff of venison, my deeeer.” He bumped his side playfully against Alastor’s, and grinned as the man laughed along with him. 

Alastor lowered his voice, leaning toward him as he spoke. “It’s quite possible. I have an idea, though. How about I take you to my very favorite butcher’s shop, and we select a few things to bring back here to feed them?”

Surprise was clear on his features as he blinked at Alastor, and then Vox’s smile went lopsided. “Al, hate to break it to you, but there’s a sign there that says not to feed them.” 

In a flash, an inky black tendril of solid shadow lifted from the ground, smacking straight into the sign and flattening it beneath the leaves in the garden. Alastor’s smile and attention never wavered, eyes studying Vox’s face. “Is there? Funny, I don’t think I noticed it. Where did you see that?” 

Barking a laugh, Vox covered his mouth, glancing around to be sure no one else had seen. It was only then he realized that they were really… mostly alone. There weren’t even security cameras up. Then, he supposed, how much crime did they expect in a greenhouse, even in Hell? Though… the man-eating plants were probably a good way to hide a body. He’d have to remember that. Maybe that was why Alastor liked the place. 

“Alright, alright, you got me there.” Vox pretended to look around again, holding a hand up over the top of his screen and squinting. “How mysterious, it seems I can’t find the sign now!” He grinned at Alastor, clasping his hands. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, that does sound fun. We’ll have some new pals in the garden after this, I bet.”

“Precisely. Then when the hell-plant uprising occurs, we’ll be spared.” Alastor nodded sagely, and Vox laughed again, pulling a bright grin from the Radio Demon.

As they made their way out, Alastor didn’t unhook his arm from Vox’s, and Vox felt the warmth of his own joy over that fact spread all the way to the tips of his toes, a little zip of static jumping from one of his antennae to the other. He was glad to see that the butcher shop wasn’t actually far from the gardens. 

It was always interesting to Vox to see Alastor interact with other people, especially ones he had casual business relationships with. Bartenders, tailors, and now this butcher… Vox listened to the order he placed, nodding along when Alastor explained that it was for the plants and not the two of them. While the butcher worked on compiling a bundle of scrap cuts, Alastor turned to him and gestured to the display case, pointing out a few steaks to him.

“A loin cut like this one will be more tender, while the ribeye will have more flavor. There are some that combine the two, but that’s generally a good starting point.” Alastor looked thoughtful for a moment, studying him. Vox felt like he was sizing him up, somehow, and he wondered idly if he was considering what TV demon might taste like. 

Then, Alastor booped the middle of his face, and he briefly displayed a static screen in surprise, straightening. “Wh-“

“What do you say I get us a quality cut, and we can see how this little date goes? Then, if you’d like… we can wander back to your little apartment and I can show you how to cook it. That way, you’ll be prepared next time.” Alastor’s tone was amused, but Vox was fixated on next time. 

“Oh hell yes, that sounds great!” Vox blurted the words, and then flushed, eyes widening. “Er! I mean, that would be—“

“Wonderful! Cut us a couple of tenderloin filets, as well, my good man!” 

Vox stared on as Alastor paid for their bundles once they were ready, and the pair walked back to the garden. It felt surreal to him, somewhat, to be starting the date fresh, in a sense. After all, this way they arrived together. This way the bulk of their time at the garden was starting over. He almost wondered if the meat trip was a way for Alastor to brush aside his tardiness for him, and the thought of that had him feeling like he might overheat. What a strange sort of kindness… Very on brand for Alastor.

As they stepped back in, Alastor linked arms with him again, and the warm glow of the garden’s lights surrounded them once more. The plant growth seemed to dampen the sound from outside in a way he hadn’t noticed when he’d first arrived. It made the entire space feel somehow more intimate. They made their way back over to the massive carnivorous plants, and Alastor pulled the bundle of meat from his bag, holding it out to Vox. 

Unwrapping the butcher paper slowly, Vox studied the little cubes, plucking one between his claws and then looking back up at the drooling plants. With a little smirk, he tossed it over, grinning as it chomped the morsel from the air. “Hah! Almost as good as feeding sharks…” 

“Is that so?” Alastor reached over to pull a piece free himself, tossing it to another plant and snickering when it missed the catch, diving down to slurp the meat up from the soil instead. 

Vox hummed and nodded. “Yeah, sharks have a little more mobility, obviously, and they can smell blood from so far away, really zero in on it. They’re fun to feed, though, from a safe enough place. People always think they’re mindless eating machines, but they’re really something.” His tone softened, and he tossed another piece to the plants before them, smile gentle.

“Like you.” Alastor flashed a toothy smirk his way, and Vox blinked. Like him? 

“People think I’m a mindless eating machine?” Vox blinked again, a little bewildered.

Alastor laughed more openly then, squeezing his arm and leaning into him slightly, and Vox felt his stomach flutter. “People underestimateyou, I think. But you’re ‘really something.’ Cunning and clever and… much more thoughtful than I think anyone realizes.” He turned to the plants, tossing two pieces of meat out toward them as he seemed to lose himself in thought. “Planning to bring me a gift… researching for it. Steak, Vox? Such an odd choice.”

“I was trying to figure out what sort of sinner meat cannibals usually liked best.” The admission was a soft one, Vox curious what Alastor would do with that information.

Brows furrowing, Alastor looked back to him, confusion pulling one side of his smile higher than the other. “But you’re not a cannibal, Vox…” 

“No. But I wasn’t going to assume I’d get to have any of the meat, either. I was reading about the, uh… finger treats, because they kinda reminded me of a box of chocolates?  But then it was time to leave. It was going to be just for you, Al. I wanted to show you I…— that I’ve paid attention.” Vox smiled a little sheepishly, and Alastor looked somewhat overwhelmed by the revelation. 

The deer demon leaned in to cup one side of Vox’s screen, smiling sweetly. “Oh, you darling man… If you’re not careful, I’ll eat you up.” Vox didn’t think too hard about the way those words made his stomach flutter again. Alastor was inches from his face, and that was the more important detail for the moment. “You flatter me.” 

Lifting a hand, Vox pressed it over the one on his casing, holding Alastor’s hand there gently. “Just want to give you the nice time you deserve, Al. That’s all.” He wanted to lean in, to close the distance between them. Alastor smelled earthy, this close up, his own particular scent that Vox wasn’t sure he could pinpoint if he had to try. All he knew was that he liked it a lot.

“Well, it’s been quite a nice time so far. Let’s continue, shall we? These gluttons can finish the rest of our little offering and then we can walk on. See what other flora Hell has to offer.” 

So, they finished tossing the rest of the treats to the large carnivorous plants, Vox even daring to pat one of them farewell before they wandered on. They strolled along the garden path arm in arm, idly chatting about some of the strange flowers and vines thriving within the greenhouse. Flowers with eyes for stamen or teeth around the base of the petals. There were vines that he was sure leaked sap that was just blood. Climbing blooms that leaned toward them when they walked past or puffed pollen into the air in little clouds. They avoided the ones with warning signs relating to their pollen. Neither of them wanted to feel drugged right then. 

Eventually, they came upon what felt like a forest worth of rose bushes, all of them in full bloom, and in a wild array of colors. There were traditional bushes and climbing vines and shaped branches, massive hand-sized blooms and tiny clusters. Some of them were definitely not colors Vox had ever seen on roses in his time alive. They were magnificent. Evidently, despite the abundance of fascinating flora to pick from, sinners still liked to harken back to the usual go-to rose. He couldn’t blame anyone, really. They were striking, popular, seen as romantic, and they generally smelled nicer than most other plants. 

The smell itself was almost cloyingly sweet, heady from how intensely floral it was. Some of that was dampened for him, thanks to having a screen for a face, but Vox could tell that was the case even so. The way Alastor took a deep, slow breath in, leaning toward one of the bright yellow blooms hanging over the path was another good clue. Vox watched on, enthralled as Alastor closed his eyes to just breathe in the rose’s scent, enamored with the way his smile curled gently at the corners. 

“Y’know, yellow roses actually mean jealousy some places?” Vox chuckled softly, and Alastor looked at him with slight surprise. 

“Is that so? How about about…” he gestured to the one next to it. “This white? Let me guess… innocence?” Alastor snorted, and then laughed as Vox nodded. “How original. Studied flower language, did you?” 

One of Vox’s shoulders lifted in a half shrug, and he nodded again. “Briefly. It was for a segment I did once. Other flowers have pretty interesting ones too. I had a whole bit about making a bouquet for an enemy. Lavender meant distrust, orange lilies were hatred… yellow carnations were for rejection and disdain. There was one that apparently even meant a declaration of war. Funny stuff. But… most of them are nice.”

Alastor laughed softly, expression gentle and warm, and Vox wanted to bottle the feeling that swelled within him as he soaked that in. “Specific to the colors, too, hm? Tell me more about these roses, then…”

Vox grinned and continued, pleased to know something Alastor apparently didn’t. “Pink is for happiness, and the dark ones are good to wear or decorate with when it comes to mourning, like for funerals usually.” He found himself leaning into Alastor even as the other man was leaning toward one of the thorn-covered bushes, but he snapped to attention as Alastor snipped one of the roses free with a claw. He watched on as the Radio Demon plucked the thorns from the stem and removed the lower leaves. Vox couldn’t take his eyes off of the rose. He only looked up when Alastor’s fingers tucked under the bottom of his screen and tilted his head back up. They were inches apart. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, somewhat breathy sounding. “Red ones mean…” He trailed off.

“Love, would be my guess.” Alastor tucked the stem of the rose into the chest pocket of Vox’s jacket. “There… beautiful. Red is a good look on you. I may be a bit biased, but it does contrast nicely with your skin.” Alastor patted his chest gently, his smile fond, but Vox felt the air leave him despite that light touch. Love…? He’d have to accessorize with red more often, maybe. 

Reaching up, Vox twirled a finger through a lock of Alastor’s hair lightly, humming softly at him as he tried to shake himself free of the spell Alastor had cast over him. “Might be a bit biased, says the man who is very nearly red head to toe. But, um… thanks, Al. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Alastor’s smile widened slightly, expression still soft, and he reached up to catch Vox’s fingers with his own. “Good…” He leaned closer, bumping his forehead against Vox’s, and then his nose, and Vox was frozen in place all over again, breath catching in his throat. He only realized what was about to happen just before— 

The press of Alastor’s lips was so soft, almost tentative, like he was feeling out what it was like to kiss Vox since his face was a screen. The tiniest amount of static energy hummed over the surface of the glass. Vox was staring wide-eyed at Alastor, who was then so close he was out of focus, making him go cross-eyed. He closed his eyes.

The radio demon’s lips pressed more firmly to his own, and then it was like something snapped within Vox. His hands moved to tug Alastor a little closer, one at his hip and one sliding over his shoulder to press gently at his upper back. He returned the affection, parting his lips just enough to catch Al’s lower one between his teeth, nibbling lightly and tilting his head to press a little closer, to kiss a little more passionately. His heart was pounding, blood singing. He’d wanted to know what kissing Alastor was like for months. He’d wanted to know what he tasted like—blood, black coffee, a hint of cigarette smoke, and whiskey—and now it was happening. His lips were soft like rose petals—a fact that Vox’s mind flipped around and around like a coin spinning on its edge—his teeth were like razors, but his tongue was warm and smooth as it pressed against Vox’s. His hands were firm on either side of his screen. He could feel Alastor’s pulse, and he took some small comfort that it was racing just as quickly as his own.

And then, just as it had begun, Alastor was easing back, taking a slow, deep breath to steady himself. His smile had never faltered, but it had softened. Vox wanted to soak in that… 

Trailing a finger up one of Vox’s antennae, causing a little spark to bounce between them, Alastor tilted his head. “What do you say we make our way back to your apartment, hm? I can show you how to cook these steaks and we can see how well you take directions in the kitchen. Then… perhaps drinks.” His cheeks were pink, ears canted back slightly in relaxation. Vox was cataloguing every little hint of body language that told him Alastor had liked kissing him.

He lightly squeezed Alastor’s hand, nodding. “Sounds like a plan, Al. I’d like that. Just you watch, I’ll be cooking better than you. I hosted a cooking show in life, you know… for a little while. Well, baking mostly, but still. I’ve been trying to put something together here in Hell too. Maybe I’ll surprise you.” 

Alastor’s laugh was light, playful, and as they began to walk, he let their entwined hands swing between them. “You already do, picture box. You already do. In all the best ways possible.”