#greydoeshazbin;

[stormyweaver]

First Time For Everything || (Part 2/??)

NOTES: I'll add the title to my first part posted here, but I'm just so dang giddy to finally get chapter two up! No idea when I'll have the next part finished (I'm still figuring out where I wanna go with this little story) but I hope you enjoy this next installment!

TW: mess, brief mention of gore and potential contagion towards the end

“Hhhh? Ehh- hHEH!...” 

Vox’s frantic inhales stalled on the apex and, once again, the urge to sneeze fizzled out into a frustrated - and frankly exhausted exhale. 

It had been like this ever since he’d first started sneezing. He’d repeated the action a few more times on his walk with Alastor, and each one had been as equally full-bodied as the one preceding it. His torso ached all over, especially his chest and neck, not to even mention how dizzy the intense outbursts left his head. Not long after the sixth sneeze did Vox begin to try and actually stop what felt like an inevitable reaction, which had worked… somewhat. He’d managed to swallow down the urge enough to stop himself from performing the act of sneezing, but he’d done absolute jack-shit to stop himself from hitching and gasping like a fish flopping atop a sun-bleached deck. 

And every time he raised a hand to scrub - fruitlessly, might he add -at the center of his screen, Alastor’s amused snicker would cause his muscles to tense. His companion had no qualms about enjoying his palpable misery - he was probably soaking up the waves radiating off of him. Actually, he had no doubt that that was exactly what Alastor was doing. It seemed that the more Vox sniffled, coughed and groaned from his malady, the more Alastor appeared to perk up. Fucking energy vampire. 

As if speaking of the devil, Alastor released an inquisitive hum. “My my - I’m surprised you haven’t asphyxiated from all that gasping! Such a shame.” 

Cyan-tipped claws rose to press along the front of his throat, which he cleared several times in the hopes that it would somehow clear away the gunk lining his throat. At least enough for him to speak clearly. “I think you’d enjoy that a little too much.” 

Vox immediately winced after finishing his retort, and he could have sworn even Alastor appeared a bit surprised. He hadn’t done much… or any talking after the ‘discovery’ of his illness had taken place. Which in itself was odd but Vox had been too preoccupied sneezing or gearing up to a sneeze, or trying to stop sneezing to act as much of a conversationalist. 

However, he slightly regretted speaking now: his voice was downright awful, a raspy quality and his consonants were heavily muddled with congestion. That he had expected, but what really reinforced his sorry state was how it sounded as though he was speaking through a faulty speaker. Or an old timey radio…

The thought brought a small bit of amusement, but it was dashed when he realized that even Alastor somehow managed to sound good through shitty audio. He just sounded… well, sick. And broken. Vox scowled ahead. 

He would have kept walking had Alastor not whipped the length of his cane in front of him, causing Vox to flinch. “What’re–

“Ah, here we are!”

Brows furrowed, Vox finally looked up at the building they had stopped in front of. It appeared to be a diner of sorts. It wasn’t really all that distinguishable from other places he’d seen in Hell, besides having a more dated feel than some of the other areas in Pride Ring. But they were on the outskirts, near Cannibal Town, and after learning how frequently Alastor visited that particular area, it didn’t surprise him when they would wind up somewhere in the vicinity. 

The building’s exterior showed a few signs of age - chipped paint here and there, but otherwise it just looked older versus not having been taken care of. The brickwork was still in fairly good condition, besides some moss growing along the left lower corner. There were two baskets of flora hanging on each side of the entrance/exit, but they appeared slightly wilted - from either lack of care or by design, Vox couldn’t be sure. It had a small awning just above the doors, with the name Devil’s Diner in a scrawl that Vox found a little… well not tacky but, just not one he would have chosen for an eatery.

It struck Vox as a decent place overall, just from a different time period. Well kept, while a little tattered in seemingly all the right places. Yeah, now it made sense why Alastor wanted to go here. 

Once they were inside and seated, Vox groaned as he lowered himself down. He was thankful to just be off his feet, what with the long walk they had made just getting to this place. His head still felt like it was filled with a bag of wet sand, and his hearing was slightly obscured from a sudden, but dull ringing. 

“... and I don’t say this lightly, but the bread pudding is absolutely to die for, hah hah– Vox?” 

The sound of something tapping rather firmly onto the floor finally brought Vox out of his lethargy, just in time to see Alastor returning his cane to where-the-fuck-ever in a puff of crimson smoke. He then proceeded to lean so far forward in his seat that Vox was surprised he managed to avoid falling onto the table between them. “Dear me, you truly are unwell, aren’t you?” Vox attempted to mirror Alastor’s smile, though it fell short of being a perfect copy by a mile. “It’s probably just a twenty-four hour bug, nothing to worry about.” Though Alastor’s tone might have conveyed sympathetic to anyone else, Vox had a hunch it leaned more into the ‘Your misery is palpable and I’m loving every second of it’ territory. Actually, he was certain of it. Jesus Christ, had he really analyzed Alastor so much over their time together? Then again, it wasn’t as though he made it easy - it was that damned smile. 

It never left Alastor’s face, no matter what he was doing or saying, an unnerving fact he’d learned after watching him maim one soul so ignorant as to roughly shove past Alastor while muttering expletives under his breath. The same breath had soon begun begging for mercy before his guts were splayed all over the sidewalk. This had been early into their acquaintance-ship, and Vox still had shivers whenever they passed by the same spot. 

It wasn’t really the actual gore or violence, but the fact that Alastor had been grinning throughout the entire thing. As if he– no, he definitely did enjoy it. An “artform”, a term he’d heard the other use on more than one occasion. An artform. He’d never associated murder or even run-of-the-mill violence with “art”. Then again, there was nothing even remotely typical about the way Alastor operated. Not even a little. 

So occupied with his thoughts, he’d barely even noticed when their waiter arrived, giving a sharp start before attempting to appear more put-together than he felt. Alastor ordered first, thankfully; though the relief was short-lived, Alastor stated his choice as though he’d gotten the same combination hundreds of times. Which, in hindsight, was quite possibly the case. 

When the waiter - a one-eyed Hellian who resembled more of a blob than any even remotely human-form - turned to Vox, it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t even taken a glance at the menu. He felt so exhausted, and the mere thought of food had his stomach gurgling. Apparently his digestive system was protesting the questionable eggs and toast, and the idea of piling something from a place he’d never eaten from or heard of before on top of that was out of the question. 

Regardless, he ordered a simple burger and some fries, along with a soft drink. It had been the first thing that didn’t look complicated, and hopefully the bubbles from the drink would help settle his gut. Plus, he could manage to down a few bites of a burger, enough that he wouldn’t appear so unwell that his appetite was as shot as it genuinely was.

Wait- why did he care about how his plate looked? Was it the chance that Alastor would make yet another remark? ‘You’ve hardly touched your plate, dear!’ Oh, he could just hear it now. As if the knowledge that he was unwell didn’t already make Vox want to crawl out of his skin. He hated feeling weak, under any circumstances - but especially under the ones he had zero control over. 

And to have Alastor poking and prodding every time he so much as sniffled was beginning to grow a bit old. Fast. As if reading his thoughts, Alastor’s chipper-as-ever voice caught his attention once again. 

“Do you have a wire loose, or something to that effect? I dare-say I haven’t ever seen your antennae so active.” Alastor’s grin only widened when Vox grimaced. Shit. Catching his reflection in the window they were seated beside, he could see a rather intense surge of electricity crackling along and between his antennae. He took a deep breath - equally as crackling, and soaked with congestion - before half-coughing it out into his elbow. “It’s… nothing, just a glitch.” 

Damn it all, why did his body insist on betraying his fucking thoughts? Was nothing sacred? Oh wait, it wasn’t, as he often needed to remind himself. It’s Hell. 

So akin to a shark sensing blood in the water, Alastor pounced. “Certain of that, hm? Perhaps it’s a side effect - you are so ill, after all.” The emphasis on ‘so’ caused another surge of electricity, and Vox’s already taught spine felt a shudder travel down it from both frustration and… something else. Something vaguely familiar, irritating and– “I can assure you, Alastor, it’s just… jhhhust…?” Oh fuck, not again - not here, in this fucking ancient diner that was somehow PACKED as if to spite him. Alastor clocked onto Vox’s predicament rather quickly, as if bringing a fist to the middle of his screen wasn’t enough of a dead give-away. 

The sensation still grew, despite the fact that Vox could feel the intense pressure of his knuckles all but grinding against his screen. It was somehow fuzzing around every single inch of his head, and simultaneously completely out of reach to actually scratch. He sniffed, which sounded far more damp than Vox had been intending for it to, before attempting to speak again - only to have his breathing hijacked with a double-gasp. 

“It’s j-just… Ahh– hehh!”

“I do believe we got to that part, but I’m just itching to know the rest!” 

Mother of Fucking Christ, he was going to short-circuit on the spot. There was no point in trying to finish again, not with his systems so preoccupied. Fuck, fine, just get it over with. Vox eased the pressure on his screen, before relinquishing his fist to hang in the air before mouth, which was stuck gaping as he gasped again - then again, his body finally beginning to do what it needed to. “Ahhh’hah…! hehh’hih’EHhh–!!... hh… hhgh?” 

Vox’s lips formed an open-mouthed frown, his brow furrowed from more than just the prickling irritation. Which, while still prominent, seemed to stall just on the apex breath. Another sniffle, another bout of hitching that… also failed to result in a sneeze. Vox released an unsteady exhale that mingled with an exasperated groan. 

Seriously?! He was finally ready to sneeze, and his body decided to fucking bail on him? What the literal Hell?

It only occurred on another failed attempt at sneezing that Vox had technically brought this on himself. He’d been fighting the urge to sneeze ever since his initial outbursts. He was so hellbent on not sneezing due to the discomfort and, frankly embarrassment it caused that he’d put up a mental block around even the thought of it. And now that he actually wanted to, really, desperately needed to sneeze out the infernal itch, his body was simply listening to what he’d demanded from it earlier. He wasn't going to sneeze. 

He wanted to cry. 

As it was, he could feel saline welling in the corners of his eyes, which were swiped away with a vicious, frantic sniffle. Before Alastor could open his mouth, he gasped out an airy, “I’m fine!” which decidedly did not signify that he was anything even in the ball-park of being ‘fine’.

He heard Alastor chuckle, and was spared the ol’ reliable of his smile with his tearing eyes wrenched shut. But Vox could still feel it, in every single receptor and nerve, it seemed to dig right beneath his skin. 

“Oh yes, you’re the absolute epitome of ‘fine’. And ‘good health’ while we’re at it!” The only semblance of a response Vox could give was to cough in irritation; he was thoroughly occupied with the incompetence of his own body. And though it wasn’t obvious to him, Alastor’s patience had quickly reached it's limit. 

The Overlord rolled his eyes and, unbeknownst to Vox, opted to take matters into his own hands. 

Tear-soaked eyes had barely squinted open before Vox caught sight of Alastor's gloved hand in front of him, just a few inches shy of actually touching him but close enough to cause a start. The sensation stalled, but not for very long: a ripple of some kind of... energy traveled along the short space between them. And the irritating sensation seemed to double- no, triple in strength and intensity, and for a brief moment Vox thought he might be feeling something akin to pain. 

But no, it wasn’t quite pain. Just the overwhelming, agonizing, all-consuming urge finally, finally tipping over the edge–

“h’EAASCHHH!!!” The first of many, he reckoned, if the steadily rising pressure inside of his head was anything to go by. There was barely a gasp before his body truly let him have it.

“eh’AKK’TZZSCHH! heh’IZZSCH! EH’TZZT’HIEW! Eh’KZSCH! Eh’KZCH!...” 

On and on, rapid, intense sneezes tumbling out in a frenzied heap, one right on the heels of the other. Vox couldn’t ever recall having sneezed so much in his life. And apparently he was going for setting a record as far as his afterlife was concerned. 

“Hh–! EH’TZZT! H’uuhh’ohh f-fuck-” Though thoroughly unable to focus on anything other than sneezing the now worsened irritation - fucking Alastor - out of his system, Vox winced as he felt the collar of his turtleneck become decidedly… damp. 

His ports were- oh Satan’s balls, they were leaking?!

Hissing out another sneeze, a hand immediately flew to his mouth. Thus far the fit had been far too rapid, too intense for his conscious mind to think of covering. Not that the action did much, considering it was his ports leaking - though he could also detect a hint of salivation trailing from one corner of his mouth. 

“Oh for goodness sake.” he heard Alastor mutter. 

In the brief pause where Vox could only pant and anticipate the next flurry of sneezes, he winced as something smacked him in the face. Well, not so much ‘smacked’ as it was tossed, and upon feeling the silken material of the object, snatched at it and pressed it to the lower half of his face. 

“You look an absolute sight,” his companion began, with zero concealment of his disgust, “If you’re not even going to bother properly covering, you can at least–”

“eh’GXT’SCHHIEW!”

“Gesundheit. You can at least have the decency to–”

“hhH’ZZSSCHH! eh’KZZCHH’hue! Kff–!”

“Gesundheit. Mm, perhaps it would be wise to wait until you’re finished with this little display.” 

“hh’RR’ZZZSCHH!!!” 

Alastor’s ears twitched back in response to the rather harsh, static-charged sound. Even Vox's body winced in discomfort from the feedback. “Goodness. If you ever do finish, that is.” 

Sniffling pathetically, Vox managed to smother another trio of smaller, yet equally exhausted-sounding sneezes into the handkerchief. Or, was it a napkin? He couldn’t imagine Alastor sacrificing his napkin to serve as a snot-rag, so maybe he was just soiling his own. 

Whatever. At least it provided some kind of shield between this awful cold and everyone else. 

As if he truly gave a fuck if he was contagious. Though that did call to mind a question that had been gnawing at him ever since he’d even realized he was unwell:  Could he spread this to anyone else? More specifically - to Alastor?

It seemed so out of the realm of possibility. But, in theory, he supposed it would make sense: while Vox outwardly appeared to be mechanically comprised, and certain, obvious parts were, his body still housed organic parts. 

He’d found that out the hard way, once. It was still rather jarring to think about how he’d gaped in horror at his own intestines, but they pulsated and ached and appeared just like anyone else’s. He had a heartbeat, a brain that was… probably made of gray matter. Probably. 

And he was able to catch a cold. So it stood to reason that he could spread that cold to just about anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire of a sneeze or cough. 

Including Alastor. 

Vox took his time in trying to make himself look at least semi-presentable again, mopping up his mouth and dabbing at his eyes before reluctantly moving to his neck. Though when he caught Alastor’s expectant expression, he sniffled thickly before speaking.

“Sndf! I… I think it’s over.” His weary gaze gave way to irritation, “You could have at least warned me before pulling a stunt like that, y’know.” 

Alastor appeared insulted, scoffing. “I suppose that’s the last time I lend you my generosity, then! It’s certainly not my fault that your system is so terribly faulty.” 

“I was perfectly fine before you decided to mess with me out of nowhere!”

“Oh yes, huffing and gasping as though you were in some amateur erotica - surely I should have let you continue on in all your obscenity! Ridiculous,” Alastor’s upper lip snagged in obvious disdain, a gloved finger gliding down his own neck, “You’re still leaking.” 

Vox’s fans kicked into overdrive. “Oh, for fuck’s sake–”

[stormyweaver]

First Time For Everything || Part 1/??)

Alright, so never let it be said I'm not a hypocrite. I'm a huge one. But this has been sitting in my drafts for over two months and I need to post it since it's not going anywhere else lmao. PLUS I'm still reeling from my gnawing obsession with V/ox resurfacing after... y'know idk exactly what triggered it but it happened regardless.

Anyway I'm proud of my dialogue for this one bc that's always something I struggle with when writing, so yeah! Plus the idea of V/ox's first cold in Hell has always just been rattling around in my head. Also it's short, but sweet. So yeah! Enjoy!

Summary: V/ox finds out there are worse things than just being in Hell; like being sick in Hell. Alas/tor has a laugh at his expense every step of the way. ~~~

It had started as nothing but a minor annoyance. A dryness of the throat, which was typical for an early morning in Hell. Moisture wasn’t really a thing, even if you considered the fucking acid rain. Which Vox didn’t; that shit was genuinely the worst. But he’d at least had access to clean(ish) water, and cleared his throat a couple of times… the sensation still lingered. Well, it wasn’t anything for him to be overly concerned with. Besides, he had a meeting this morning with Alastor where they were going to discuss more hot-topic talking points for his radio show. 

The cloying, scratchy feeling in his throat still hadn’t gone away, even though it had been at least a couple hours since he first woke up. He made himself breakfast, something simple - eggs and toast, which… the fact that he was even able to scrounge up the materials to have a decent meal still startled him. It was Hell after all - everything was still jarring. 

He barely managed to choke down the slightly burnt edges of bread and too runny eggs (jeez, the food didn’t usually taste five star, but today was bad) before getting washed and dressed. The turtleneck he normally wore felt scratchier than normal, and he tugged at the collar in irritation. Even his antenna weren’t properly fitting into his hat… Gah - today had barely started and it was already a wash.

Well, he could at least look forward to seeing Alastor. Despite how every denizen in Hell he’d met so far had told him to steer clear of The Radio Demon, Vox hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ to him yet. Not once. Even when he’d suggested the damn hat giving him so much trouble now - silly, ridiculous even he’d thought when he first put it on. But one look at Alastor’s approving grin had dashed his worries easily. He’d do just about anything to have that look directed towards him again… Oof, was the heater on the fritz again? It was suddenly so warm.

Sniffing idly, Vox descended the steps of his apartment and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Ugh, it was warm out here too. Well… that wasn’t so much surprising as it was an inconvenience. Hell always seemed to be too warm, but today the pentagram striped sun seemed to beat down on his head with a particularly harsh intensity.

He rolled his neck with a soft grunt, fingers gripping the taught muscle with a grimace. You’d think after however many years (1, 3, more?) of living with a fucking television set for a cranium he’d have gotten used to the aches and pains that came along with it. Vox once again had to remind himself that it was Hell - there were worse things than stiff joints.

“Quite the lovely day we have upon us, isn’t it?”

“JESUS SHIT–!” Vox staggered to the side, his screen glitching slightly from the shock of Alastor’s voice directly beside him. “Wh– You have got to stop doing that, Al! One day I’m gonna get a fucking heart attack.”

Alastor’s grin seemed to widen, eerily. “Oh, I would highly advise against that, old pal! We’re dreadfully short on paramedics here in Pentagram City.” His shoulders shook lightly, obviously amused at his own joke. Vox simple deadpanned, though he fought against his mouth instinct to inch upwards at the corners. Despite being fucking sadistic, Alastor could also be pretty funny - when he wasn’t unsettling or downright terrifying. 

“Anyhow~! You look a bit… disheveled this morning!” Vox tilted his head; he’d said it as if it were the most delightful observation he’d made in ages, “Sleep on the wrong side of the bed, hm?”

“No? I… Well, I looked fine in the mirror.” He argued, smoothing down his shirt a bit self-consciously. Alastor hummed thoughtfully, reached a hand out to gently tug on the tag sticking out of Vox’s inside-out jacket. “I suppose that’s the cons of not having eyes in the back of one’s head, haha!” 

Vox snorted as he began to shrug out of the denim. “Right, like you do?...” He trailed off, giving Alastor a once over. “You- you don’t, right?” 

“Oh, heavens no! But I do have my ways of seeing things others might easily miss.” His ears twitched slightly when Vox sniffed, and his head craned to one side unnaturally. Curious. 

Vox had barely gotten his jacket smoothed out, gaze flicking back to Alastor - only to find the other’s face mere inches from his own. He flinched, feeling heat creep up along his neck as he rose a brow, tentatively inching back. “Is… something else wrong?”

After far too long of a beat, the pinstriped demon snapped back into his place on the sidewalk, giving another curious hum. “Nothing at all, dear. Now! Enough dawdling - shall we get a move on? Rolling stones and such!” Without waiting for an answer, Alastor began walking down the pavement, and Vox blinked before following after him.

'He’s being extra weird today. Wonder why?' Although Vox had long since given up on making sense of Alastor’s every behavior. He’d go absolutely insane to even try. The guy… sinner… demon was nothing short of a fucking enigma, someone most insisted was to be feared and meant to stay FAR FUCKING AWAY from. Maybe Vox was foolish to still consider him good company, but it wasn’t as though he had other sinners breaking down his door to befriend him, let alone ones he actually found himself sharing common interests with. 

Plus… the guy was charming, when he wasn’t being wholly off-putting. And even then, Vox didn’t really mind that side of him. He was just quirky. 

As they walked and made conversation, Vox found his throat going from scratchy to genuinely sore and aching. He was clearing it more often, and trying not to be off-put by the odd, static distorted quality it would get every now and again. Alastor for his part seemed to be indifferent - thank goodness - but Vox felt a small mound of worry forming in his gut. Not for his throat, but something else was… well, no other way to describe it but itching in the back of his head. Like a clothes tag itching at the back of your neck, except it was directly behind his eyes, insistent and growing steadily as they walked.

Eventually, Vox’s steps slowed, and he began to blink rapidly. 

Alastor matched his pace until they were both standing still, the radio demon looking both curious and… oddly expectant. 

Vox gave his head a trembling shake, the feeling seeming to pulse before climbing higher.

“Hahh…?” The inhale swept through his lungs, causing them to seize up as his chest rose and fell unsteadily. His screen flickered as he continued to pant unevenly, a hand raising to mid-chest. Wait, this was all oddly familiar: the gasping, the build up, this itch... was he going to…? He hadn’t even noticed Alastor taking a precautionary step back before–

“heh’AAKKTTSCHHUE!!”

His head snapped forward, and Vox barely - just barely stopped the rest of his body from joining it in tumbling down. The raised hand held onto the top of his head in an attempt at steadying it, and he managed to right himself with a huge gasp. 

“Fucking shit–!!” He exclaimed, chest muscles heaving from the absolute workout straightening back up. He blinked again, before wincing and gripping the side of his head with a groan. “Fuck, fuck my head...” 

“Well, well!” Alastor tittered, clapping his hands together a few times, “Quite the performance, my good man! Quite the show!” Giddiness radiated from him, a stark contrast to the pained misery staining Vox’s features. 

“Nghh… did I just… sneeze?” It felt far more arduous than Vox recalled it *ever* being when he was alive. Then again, he’d never had to sneeze while trying to keep himself from falling on his ass. This really was Hell, wasn’t it?

“That’s the the term most would use, yes! Not quite used to it with your new hardware, eh?” Vox winced at the tap of Alastor’s staff against his head. 

“No, I’m not. Fuck, that was awful… snf!” He raised a finger to scrub against the middle of his face, and Alastor laughed gleefully when his companion realized he didn’t have a nose to actually rub. “... you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, most assuredly, my dear!” His smile didn’t falter once when Vox began to pout, “Now don’t give me that look, it’s all in good fun!” 

Despite his insistence, Vox rolled his eyes. “I don’t see what’s so ‘fun’ about feeling like absolute shit.” Maybe if it was some other sucker sure, but it wasn’t.

“So you are feeling unwell!” Alastor interrupted his thoughts, then clasped his hands together in delight, “Oh, I’d hoped that was the case!” 

“Wait, what?”

Now it was Alastor’s turn to roll his eyes. He stepped closer to Vox, lifting the bottom of his head with his staff. “Tell me, dear - does your throat ache? Do you feel a bit warmer than usual? Perhaps a little… fuzzy in the head?” 

Vox made a slight face. “How… did you know all of that?” He hated when Alastor would do this - toy with him instead of just getting right to the point. He was already feeling like garbage, what was the point of making him think when– wait…

“Ah, the cogs seeme to be turning now, yes?” Alastor’s grin was almost too eager. Vox shuffled back a bit, rubbing the side of his head as he tried to process the conclusion he’d come to. 

“Wait, I… I can get sick? In Hell? That’s a thing?!” 

“Oh, you just make this better and better, truly!” Alastor grinned gleefully, completely ignoring the panic radiating off of Vox. “But yes, you can fall ill in Hell, of all places. I assumed you knew that–”

“HOW would I have ever known that? it’s fucking news to me!”

“Well obviously,” The way Alastor rolled his eyes was enough to potentially give Vox an ulcer. Was he capable of having those, too? Why didn’t he put the pieces of still being biologically able to fall ill together sooner?! Or better yet - why hadn’t Alastor told him, since he seemed to be so fucking knowledgeable on the subject! However it seemed that his flaring irritation would have to take a momentary backseat - that awful sensation was back, almost worse than before, and a shudder rippled along Vox’s spine before it grew uncomfortably stiff. “Hahh… hhh…?” His screen flickered with static as his breathing continued to waver, a hand rising in more impulse than actual desire to cover his mouth. Even through his fluttering lids, he could feel Alastor watching him, eager and yet patient. As if this entire situation wasn’t confounding enough, embarrassing enough, the person he least wanted to be present now had a front row seat. Take a picture, it’ll last longer nestled just on the tip of his tongue, but another sharp inhale reminded him that talking likely wasn’t the smartest option. Not while his head still felt like it was full of fuzzy, restless static–

“ehh-hahH! EA’KTTSCHHHUE!” 

Though not as large as his initial sneeze, it still sent him staggering forward harshly. His screen was almost parallel with his hips in the process, and when he righted, it felt as if rising from being submerged in water for too long. His head, his neck, his core - everything ached, all from a sneeze. He didn’t bother masking a groan. 

“Fuck…” Although his discomfort might as well have meant jack-shit when countered with Alastor’s reaction. The bastard was laughing, as if seeing Vox nearly topple over from a sneeze was just about the funniest damned thing he’d seen in decades. Vox’s temple throbbed painfully as he glared at the Radio Demon, who was dabbing at the edges of his eyes with one corner of a handkerchief. 

“Oh goodness me - you certainly don’t do anything by halves, do you?” 

“You act like I did that on purpose.” Vox countered with a roll of his eyes, sniffling which… if he didn’t have a nose or sinuses, shouldn’t have been an action he could carry out. But there were multiple facets of Hell that technically didn’t make sense. Apparently this was just one among the hundreds of others. 

Alastor didn’t offer much in the way of a response. If anything, he was eerily silent, but his gaze penetrated Vox straight through to his damned soul. Vox felt warmth creep up along his neck. 

“If you’re waiting for it to happen again, you’re shit outta luck.”

Though he said it with confidence, he was internally dreading the moment another sneeze would grab hold of him. Alastor simply shrugged, but his gaze still held that air of anticipation. 

“Suit yourself. It’s certainly no skin off my nose.” His smile widened a fraction when Vox growled under his breath. 

Cyan-tipped fingers scrubbed along the surface of his screen, a bit harsher than was necessary. The irritation wasn’t as strong as before, but it lingered just out of his reach; strong enough to make it’s presence known, but not enough to trigger another sneeze. 

By the time he’d grown tired of uselessly assaulting his own face, Alastor was already a good couple of steps ahead of him. Apparently he’d grown tired of waiting for the ‘show’ to continue.

Shoulders sagging with another liquid-tinged sniffle, Vox reluctantly broke into a jog in order to catch up with him. 

Yeah. Today was definitely going to be… entertaining. 

[stormyweaver]

okay so it's like 5am, and idk why I spent over five minutes trying to come up for a title for this when I remembered it's a fucking stand-alone drabble type... thing. i'll catalog it and everything else on my blog later.

ANYWAY!

This idea wouldn't leave me alone (as a few of you already know, you cuties <3 thanks for listening to my rambling LOL) and I finally had the insomnia-induced drive to finish it. I just think Al and Vox deserve some slice-of-life stuff with sneezy shenanigans thrown in every now and then.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~

“I still don’t get why you dragged me to the fucking Recreational Center of all places. And on a Saturday? Seriously, we could be doing literally anything else right now - y’know there’s an early morning special on hammerhead sharks that I’m missing because of you…”

On and on, and on and… well, Alastor wasn’t sure if he could stand much more whining. At the very least the twitch of his left-eye would soon become permanent if he didn’t put a stop to things soon. 

Thankfully he didn’t have to use actual force, for the signage above their heads read that they had arrived at the correct room. 

Though the moment Vox’s gaze caught onto the flyer posted over the door, he immediately went back to griping. “Cooking-- Cooking class? You signed us up for a fucking cooking class?! What the hell, Alastor?! I literally could be at home if I wanted to learn how to cook!”

The skin beneath his eye jumped once before Alastor whipped his gaze to Vox with a speed that seemed to startle his companion. “Why don’t you tell that to the three separate pans I’ve had to replace due to your abysmal cooking attempts, hm?” It was technically three pans, and one very antique dutch oven. In a show of rare generosity, he had given them to Vox after finding no use for them himself. And regretted the decision entirely. Not to mention that he very nearly burned the kitchen down in one instance. Oh sure, it was Vox’s apartment, but so long as he insisted on having Alastor over for meals, he wasn’t going to be taking any more chances. 

As was expected, Vox pouted and crossed both arms across his chest in a huff. “I already told you, those were shitty quality pans, and–”

“One was cast iron, Vox. You nearly melted a cast iron skillet. Do you have even the slightest notion of how horrendously unskilled one would be in order to manage that?”  No response, aside from Vox’s pout deepening. “That’s what I thought. Now come along, we don’t want to be late!”

– Though Alastor had thought it impossible for Vox to act any more petulant, once the class had started his companion seemed to make it his mission to act like an absolute child for the remainder. While Alastor himself didn’t require any new lessons in the kitchen, he did enjoy the act of cooking far more than anyone else present seemed to. Granted, most were here for their inability to cook but unlike Vox, who was slumped onto their small counter and grumbling about whatever inane show he was missing out on, the rest of the class was actually paying attention and at least attempting to make progress. Curious how even in Hell, sinners were still trying to improve themselves. Well, they did have to eat, Alastor supposed. 

The dish they were working on today was effortlessly simple - scrambled eggs. How in the Nine Circles anyone could manage to muck up this dish was beyond him. Though apparently some had already managed to try by whipping the shells into their mixture, just barely caught by their instructor. 

Alastor tutted, then gazed down at the recipe card in his hand and wrinkled his nose.

Ingredients: 

2 eggs

Salt to taste

Just salt? Well, that certainly wouldn’t do. For a halfway decent scrambled egg, one needed to employ at least pepper - not to mention a few other ingredients he personally utilized to give the scramble a bit more kick. Not needing any permission, he began pulling out the various spices and vegetables he required. Prompted by the movement, Vox had finally stopped his sulking and looked to the array of items with a raised brow. “Why do you have so much out? The recipe only has two ingredients, Al.”

“Ah, so you have been paying attention! Certainly could have fooled me,” His grin widened as Vox glowered at him, “If you’re going to learn how to cook, then you must learn how to cook properly. Certain recipes require a personal touch, my good man.”

Vox snorted. “Was this whole thing just an excuse for you to prove how ‘superior’ your cooking skills are to the teacher?”

When Alastor gave a noncommittal hum, Vox tacked on, “I’ll take that as a yes– wait, cayenne? In eggs? I’ve never–”

“Of course you haven’t, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. You simply can’t have eggs without spice, it’s unheard of! To those with good taste, obviously,” Alastor plucked the small container as Vox watched, unimpressed and definitely uncertain, “Just a dash is all it takes. It really does bring out th–”

Though he’d only used a single claw to tap the small cylinder, he bristled as the top popped off, the dark-red powder pouring out into a heap onto his otherwise cloud-like scramble. Well, fuck.

Vox didn’t even bother trying to hide his amusement, snickering as he gazed at the mishap. “Just a dash, huh?”

“How irksome…” Alastor sighed, but decided there was no use crying over spoilt eggs. While he began prepping another batch, a tentacle rose and deposited the ruined ones into the trash bin beside Vox - a bit too roughly, if the cloud of spice that rose up from its depths was any indication. 

“Jesus, Alastor– kff! Kff! You couldn’t have warned me?!” 

Alastor rolled his eyes, his smile having grown a bit more tense. “Do you mind? I’m attempting to salvage what’s left of his mediocre class, now hush.”

“God, you’re such an a– KFF! A– hahhsshole…” Vox’s voice trailed off into an unsteady gasp, vents bristling as the clouds of spice enveloped them. He tried to get a hold of his breathing, but it continued to sputter out until, with a sharp inhale, he ducked down against his forearm.

“eh’IZZSCHHH!!!” 

The sneeze would have been enough to startle Alastor, and he did twitch a bit from the volume, but what caught his attention was the lights flickering above their heads. That was… unexpected. “eh’IZZSCHH’ue! heh’IZZSCHH’t!” One of the overhead bulbs cracked before shattering, causing a few sinners to yelp in surprise. Alastor’s gaze flickered back to Vox, who was sniffling and rubbing at the center of his screen with a grimace - and a hint of embarrassment. And the small but detectable haziness that signified he still had to–

“Hehhh’hih!! ih’KZZSSCHH!! Fuck, I-I can’t– ‘TZZSCHH!” This time, a sharp current of electricity shot out from Vox’s frame, Alastor nearly missing getting zapped by side-stepping just in time. He could see the energy still skittering along Vox’s trembling shoulders and, judging by how his little mishap had already caused one bulb to break, Alastor wasn’t planning on being responsible for potentially shutting power to the whole building. 

Huffing, he all but yanked Vox by the wrist, and soon the duo were teleported back out onto the sidewalk. Vox staggered forward, still unused to Alastor’s means of travel and fixed him with a watery-eyed glare. 

“Again - a little warning next t– t’hhh’hehh! t-time– hAHH! AH’IZZSSCHHH’HUE!” Unfortunately, Alastor had still been close enough to Vox, and he flinched as he felt the energy course along his arm, prickling his skin, frizzing his hair– oh, that insolent little–

Apparently Vox had already gotten the hint and took a generous step back, palms up in a sign of submission. “S-sorry, I can’t control it!”

“I’m aware,” Alastor ground out, attempting to smooth out his hair, “Was all that really necessary? If you truly wanted to leave, you could have at any time, you realize? Instead of making a spectacle of yourself?” 

“It’s not my fault! That damn spice got into my vents, and- snf! Ugh, it still is, I think… fuck, it itches.” He continued scrubbing at his screen, the middle now saturated a soft but bright pink in contrast to the typical teal. Despite his irritation, it pained Alastor to admit that the sight of Vox sniveling and embarrassed almost made him feel… eugh, sympathy. Almost. 

That inkling of unusual emotion switched to slight panic when he heard Vox’s breath catch again. 

“F-fuck– ehh’heh! hhEH’--NHH!”

The sudden pressure of Alastor’s finger against his screen was almost enough to startle Vox out of his sneeze, and he blinked a few times before heaving a shaky sigh. “I’m… I’m good, now… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Ever.” He emphasized the word with a flash of his demonic form, but Vox’s fear gave way to a deadpan as he watched Alastor wipe the hand he’d touched Vox with along his jacket. “Well, I’m a bit put off from eating at the moment. Still, it is a lovely morning. Perhaps a walk in the park would be suitable for clearing your… vents, hm?”

Vox nodded. “Sure. So long as there aren’t any flowers, I’m all–”

“On second thought, I’m leaving. Ta-ta!”

“Oh come on, Al! I was joking!” It wasn’t like there was actually ragweed in Hell… right?

[stormyweaver]

sneaky peak from part 2 of the fic I posted here.

Once they were inside and seated, Vox groaned as he lowered himself down. He was thankful to just be off his feet, what with the long walk they had made just getting to this place. His head still felt like it was filled with a bag of wet sand, and his hearing was slightly obscured from a sudden, but dull ringing.

I wasn't even feeling like working on it, but after yesterday's lil' epiphany I finally got a burst of writing juice. I've still gotta actually work on where I want the fic to go since it started as just a general 'hey what if' idea.

[stormyweaver]

Holy shit, I have like... no words to express how grateful I am that everyone enjoyed the latest chapter. ;-; I'm just so floored and excited! Thank you for the love y'all, I needed it <3

[stormyweaver]

Stumbled upon a not even half-finished Lu/cifer fic I started and um... I may have to invest energy into finishing at least the first half, because DAMN it was so good I almost forgot I'd written it LMAO.