#[[ you ruined poor Vox's jacket ffs ]]

[countlessrealities]

@holoharbinger gets a thing 'cause I've been too mean to Vox since we started to interact lately, so here's a...well, not mean thing?

In hindsight, choosing "cleaning day" as the chance to allow his self-appointed rival to visit the Hotel hadn't been Alastor's greatest idea. It had seemed perfect in the moment, because it meant that everyone else was out and about, and wouldn't come back for several hours, including Vaggie. Thus, she would have never known about that little meeting of theirs.

However, on the other hand, there was one tiny detail he had failed to consider. Namely the fact that Niffty would be roaming the building in a frenzy, uncaring of anything or anyone who might find themselves in her path.

In his defence, Alastor had thought that, with how big the building was, it would have been extremely unlikely for them to bump into the hyperactive maid. Why would she be in their same wing, when there were so many other spaces in dire need of a clean up?

As they say, famous last words.

They had barely turned a corner, casually strolling towards Alastor's room for yet another promised drink, when Niffty appeared at the other end of the corridor, moving faster than a rabid hurricane.

The Radio Demon, used to the little maid's antics after years of dealing with her, smoothly stepped aside, moving close to the wall to avoid her rush, but his companion wasn't so prompt in his reaction.

Niffty literally swept Vox off his feet with her broom, knocking him forward...and straight into Alastor.

The Radio Demon acted instinctively, without thinking, and caught the body falling into his own, fingers gripping at the other Overlord's shoulders. While that surely helped doing some damage control, he wasn't fast enough to prevent his forehead to slam his forehead against the TV Demon's screen.

Alastor's own back hit the wall, but he didn't even notice, too busy freezing as his mind registered the position they had ended up in.

Vox's hands had scrambled to find a handhold, grabbing the closest they could find...which had happened the Radio Demon himself. Those blue claws had wrapped around his waist, just about his hips, their pressure far too heavy to be ignored, even with the shield of the cloth that separated his skin from them. Their chests were brushing, a hair away from being pressed up against each other and he was almost sure that one of his antlers had gotten tangled up with the other's antenna.

And yet, that wasn't even the worst part.

Red eyes went painfully wide, grin stretched across his face and frozen in both shock and paralysing uneasiness. He could hear the light hiss of Vox's fans, feel the little sparks of electricity biting at his skin where their heads touched. His own breath was washing over the other Overlord's screen, perhaps a little quicker than it should have been.

Their mouths weren't touching, thankfully, but they might have if one of them had inched just a little closer or changed the angle of their faces.

Alastor's stomach lurched, a sick bitterness rushing up to his throat, filling the back of his mouth. Not only had his personal space been brutally violated, but he was being touched against his will in too many spots for his mind to process it.

It was too much. Too much all together.

And yet, very deep down, in the darkest recesses of his brain, there was the faintest whisper saying that, maybe, it wasn't too unbearable.

Vox was steady, solid, warm. He was everything the shadows Alastor usually dwelled in weren't. The way their electromagnetic waves mixed together made up an oddly melodious cacophony and his static weaved through the other's electricity astonishingly seamlessly.

It repulsed him. It made him ill in his guts.

It fascinated him. It made him ravenous.

Abruptly, the Radio Demon melted away into the shadows, causing his companion's face to hit the wall behind him, and he materialised again several steps away.

A hysterical laughter erupted from his throat, loud and straind and high-pitched as he moved even more backwards.

"Oh my! I just remembered. There's an exceedingly urgent business that demands my attention! So very sorry, my dear, but we must cut your visit short. You can find your way back on your own, can't you?"

He didn't wait for an answer, shadows already climbing along his legs, to whisk him away.

"Until next time, old pal!"

And you can bet that he would make sure that the "next time" would not happen any time soon.