divinetree | It's not that complicated, no matter what they say

A spin! He could roll with that. A dip, of course, Alastor almost instinctively wrapped his arms around Vox's shoulders for it.

Getting scooped up, though - that got a surprised bleat from him, one that Valentino made some remark about but Alastor could only stare as he was hurried away in a whirlwind of motion.

Stunned, he clung on, brain racing to catch up-- the overcoat could only hide so much when he was positioned like this...!!

(Not that there was an issue - not a soul in Voxtek would even perceive him or question their boss' jovial attitude, letting it all pass right by. The benefits of hypnosis!)

TOOK YOU BY SURPRISE, DIDN'T HE, FUCKER?? HAH!

The music continued to play, a triumph, as he scurried along with the other man and their bundle in tow. He'd quickly connected to the tower's network to open the doors remotely, activate the elevator...

His own whirlwind stopped when he was forced to pause in the elevator, which he stepped into and spun on the end of a finely-polished shoe before he came to a stop.

Well.

Not entirely. He was toe-tapping, shuffling along in place, as the doors closed and they made their way up. No risk teleporting when one wasn't sure how his electricity would affect the baby! Still, this just meant he could hold him like this for longer.

Once the deer-in-headlights moment passed, Alastor started laughing, going almost completely wall-eyed. A little deranged, a little whimsical - he'd never been carried like this--

Had he? ...Nope! His drunken escorts home usually involved a piggyback at the worst.

But this was a bit fun. This was the funny little picturebox he always knew and cut a rug with.

"Hahah! Hmm... I'm going to be sick," Alastor teased, though he clung tighter to Vox. Don't you dare put him down.

"Don't you dare! I like this coat!" He laughed back. "Vel will skin me!"

Okay, no more spinning, but he wouldn't dare set him down. Once out of the elevator, to that--

"Oh. Shit. Whoops."

This was his floor, an aquarist's wet dream: Soft blue lighting emitted from massive tanks that contained equally massive shapes in the distance that glimmered with LED lines and glowing, intelligent red eyes. Flitting along were flashes of color to contrast the blue, small fish from earth and Envy going about their day amid clusters of coral that were thriving with anemones and so many many-legged little critters.

The walls were stuffed with movie cases, many titles hard to see from a distance, lined precisely like a bibliophile would fill a library with books. Along some shelves, he housed an old projector, a vintage set of cameras, and a number of awards from local organizations for cinematography, Movie of the Year, and Best Writer among others.

In glass cases along another wall were... televisions, from a mechanical set to a transistor set, and an awfully familiar CRT among others.

The whole setup looked more like a personal theater than a room someone lived in, but there appeared to be doorways to other areas throughout this floor. But to have the theater and aquariums front and center spoke volumes of his priorities when coming home after a long and shitty work day.

"Eh, fuck it- my bathroom's just fine. I'm running you a bath!" He moved for the bathroom, and his cables stretched from his back. He needed the extra limbs to get things going.

"♫♪ Don't think I didn't hear that little 'pop' in the car...! Now where in the hell did I put that itty-bitty salt jar...? ♪♫ " Ad-libbed with the music, he kept the jam going, one cable running the water into an almost obnoxiously large bath tub, more going through his toiletries. Epsom salt, epsom salt... did a wonder for aching muscles-- ah-HA! Here's the little bastard...

Vox's space was so very, very blue. And while Alastor enjoyed the warmth of oranges and reds in a bar, the energy of yellow and white lights for dancing? He also loved his little reprieve of the bayou, giving a break from the relentless red skies. He could see why Vox would change his whole space to be such a calming color.

The little improvised song had Alastor chuckling, watching with interest as the cables explored the bathroom. Plus, this bathroom didn't seem much better slip-wise - may as well let his mate handle everything for him.

"♫♪ Seasoning me for a treat? Soup or stew, do you think-- nothing but salt won't get you far! ♪♫"

He never expected to have hoofed company!! But he had no intention of letting go anyway. Not when he was being grabbed onto like that...

♫♪ Gotta go with soup and salt, but I think that you'll agree ♪♫
♫♪ With an addition of THIS venison, the result'll be spicy! ♪♫

♫♪ Let's balance with some calming herbs, some bits what settle guts, ♪♫
♫♪ Come settle in, I'll cut you loose, no if's, ands, or buts... ♪♫

The next jar was tucked far, far away in a cabinet, a secret little stash. When you knew a witch, you had second-hand knowledge when it came to herbs. He wagered Alastor wouldn't be TOO bratty about the fact that he had a jar of chamomile and lavender for baths. It- it worked for REALLY shitty days, okay???

But all the while he pulled up a bench and set Alastor down, but with his hands now free, he'd handle the buttons and free him from this... godawful pink.

With a bit of bemused chuckling, Alastor undid the buttons on his cuffs as Vox handled the coat and overcoat. Shedding the layers felt nice, if a bit vulnerable, but... well, he'd been rather vulnerable since getting pregnant. He just had to remember that this was the plan that he made, so not to fret...

"You really have a craving for decadence," Alastor teased, reaching behind himself to unhook the simple cloth band he had over his belly. After getting chewed out by Vox over the corsets, he had to find another way to help ease the weight of his swelling body.

"♫♪ A good simmer to make the tense muscles tender... ♪♫"

"Live the life you feel you deserve," he drawled with a chuckle. As much as he disliked this pink- it clashed a bit with Al's usual color schemes, was too washed out- he still hung up what he discarded with considerable care.

But he paused with the borrowed shirt, the way it hung on Alastor's much slighter form than his. Paired with the belly, freed from the band (that he tried so hard not to negotiate away from, because he supposed it was better than those awful corsets), it was...

Distracting.

Vox had to swallow down his heart when the radio demon offered the next line, but he sank to his knees before him. It was definitely to give him a better angle in removing those shoes, the pants. And no other purpose. Not check the hooves for anything awry...

♫♪ Loans a soft and tender bite... ♪♫

Perhaps it was because he was having too much fun after a frightening, tense time that drove him to proceed apace, despite the spat in the car. Maybe he was just a convenience (to a degree, the hopeful voice in his thoughts added), but he wasn't about to abandon his duties as the man who was half responsible for Alastor's condition.

With lavendar, epsom and chamomile in, the tap was closed. Not too hot of a bath, he'd learned, but enough for cozy.

He hesitated, perhaps to etch the image of his loaned shirt in his mind a little further, before he helped to ease it off.

The bath and the warmth seemed luxurious... and with how his back and pelvis was already aching from the weight, it called to him. Not to hot, but warm enough to melt the strain away...

But oh, what's this? Alastor smirked a little, charmed and impish as he watched Vox's gaze. He'd stolen away with the man's shirt because he craved a familiar scent - something to calm him as he went to see what Rosie had planned for him - but this was a pleasant little detail.

Vox liked to see Alastor wearing blue. Perhaps, wearing his clothes. Duly noted - another possible reward for a father-to-be doing well. And speaking of rewards... and how his picturebox clearly needed his fears assuaged... Alastor leaned in and pressed a chaste little kiss to the top of Vox's screen as though he were kissing the man's forehead.

♫♪ A feast I'll give to you tonight... ♪♫

It was something he'd noticed more, some little pops of blue he'd noticed hidden away in Alastor's ensembles. Vox surely wasn't helping in that regard, sending flowers when he noticed the prior arrangements had started to dry and get sad. Did it stick out like a sore thumb, a cool set of colors among the abundant warm? Certainly... but Vox himself wasn't without tucking just a little red amid his own mix.

His screen was warm, and there was a small buzz of static with the touch to the top of his screen. Brighter cyan pixels rose as he shifted again, taking up the deer to eliminate any need for hooves to tread on rather slippy floor not made for them.

He was lowered into the water without a word, and once finished, Vox hurried to a control panel at the longest wall that merely bore a painting yet seemed... a little plain in comparison to the rest of the decor for his little sanctum. When he touched a couple of buttons, it was clear why: This panel slid upward, tucking away into a compartment built into the ceiling.

Truly, more than ever, there were no mysteries in how such a short-tempered man somehow found the time to get so much work done. Because who could be incensed when you could bathe and soak away your worries when practically flanked by a wide, dark tank filled with the lazy bob and float of glimmering jellyfish...?

The warmth of the water and the depth of the tub was a relief... Alastor let himself slide under the water just briefly enough to wet his hair, habitually shaking his head to clear water out of his ears. Glancing up at the ceiling, he started laughing - of all the things he expected, that was just 'extra', as the kids say.

"Hah... hahahah! Oh, you are too much, Vox..." he laughed, jovial and giddy. The stress of the limo shoved behind him, the anxieties about Rosie shoved aside - right now he was just having a laugh at how lavish and indulgent Vox's space was for himself.

The laughing surprised him, but soon he was grinning like an idiot, arms open imploringly.

"What?? Swimming in a jellyfish pool was a dream of mine when I was alive! Live the life you feel you deserve!" His arms lowered, and he walked to turn a chair around and sit, leaning forward against the back.

"I mean, shit- I liked media to take up a little meteorology to get my foot in the door at my local news station, but..."

He shrugged, quieted. "...I think if I had the cash then that I have now, I would've been Dr. Vincent Whittman, Head Marine Biologist."

"Hah! Then you could've had a hoot feeding your victims to the sharks you so adore. And when you inevitably got too friendly with one and got eaten, you'd come down here as a sad pile of living chum," Alastor speculated, amused.

"FUCK, I hope not...! Probably look like one of those possessor demons at least!" But he laughed. Yeah, he probably would have gotten too chummy, and became chum himself.

"So, what, you got kicked to death by a deer or were obsessed with deer or something? I always did wonder where the whole..." He raised his hands to his head, wiggled two fingers like ears.

"Your 'Prince of the Forest turned Sleep Paralysis Demon' shtick came from."

"Ugh."

Immediately pouty! "Aside from the occasional hunt to make sure Maman and I were fed, no, I didn't have any unique fondness for them. I enjoyed the gators if anything, but it pales to how you adore sharks."

He paused to snap, summoning some hellhound shampoo - it was one of the only kinds he'd found that made his hair tameable and not a complete wiry textured nightmare. Glowering at the hellhound on the bottle, he rolled his eyes.

"Were I killed the way I expected, hunted down by law enforcement and their hounds, maybe there'd be a cruel irony in my appearance there."

Admitting it still felt sour - Alastor poured the soap into his palm and started scrubbing at his scalp.

So it was a surprise, clearly- but NOT by the police? He didn't find any articles about a radio host from New Orleans in the 30s, so he did always wonder how Al died.

"Oh trust me- my death sucked. I sure as shit know about cruel irony, and I'm glad I'm able to upgrade myself due to being part machine."

He pressed his hands to the small of his back and let his back pop.

"Can't imagine you with gator features, though." He paused. Snorted back a laugh.

"...Floating like a log in the bayou, waiting for your next victim..."

"Lurking... waiting..."

Alastor rotated in the bath, submerging himself to his nose and speaking with his teeth locked shut.

"Eager to snap my jaws in a decisive blow. To roll and tear away flesh."

He had to clutch himself, unable to stop the laugh. "Ala... Alagator...! Alagastor...?"

No, this was too much. He can't...!

It got a hearty guffaw out of Alastor, who went back to relaxing in the bath after dunking his head to rinse the soap out of his hair. Ahh, silly...

"Haw hahah... ahh, alas. No, I was shot when I was in the midst of hiding a body. Right through the head with a rifle - I practically blinked, had a blinding instant of pain and came to in Hell!"

He tapped the middle of his forehead - figured it was obvious enough with the x that would appear there.

He knew, was living proof, too- that one's death did leave a permanent mark upon a sinner in their damned form. He'd occasionally seen the little mark on his forehead when he got really fired up back in the day, and had to wonder the tale. Vox always thought it was a shootout with the police or something, but... huh.

"Shit, I wish mine was quick," he noted with a wince. "I dunno if it was seconds or minutes, but it felt like hours..."

But flipped a hand dismissively, and quickly recovered. "But that's neither here nor there! All's well in there? Should I leave you with the jellyfish, ooooor... do you need an extra pair of hands~?"

"Lewd," Alastor immediately quipped, chuckling a bit. But it didn't really sound like he minded.

"That does raise the question - what would you like from me tonight? A bit of indulgence of your libido? A dance? To share the bed?"

Anything else, he didn't feel like offering - he knew going into today that he fully intended to make sure Vox ended on a high note, after that scare. Rosie was clever with it, but Alastor wasn't going to let her sow seeds of discontent - that's his decision, not hers.

The playfulness, his mischief dissolved immediately, screen brightening as his arms fell to his sides with the suggestions.

"...What...?"

Pardon him, his processors now need a little time to reset.

"A-are you serious?"

"You came for me and your child, you stood up to Rosie even knowing the dangers, and you weren't stupid about any of it," Alastor explained, so very matter-of-fact. "And I'm in a good mood, tonight."

Despite everything. Or really... because of everything. He's finally back in a private haven of his own - with a man he knows exactly how to steer in any way he wants. From controlled, to being in control.

Yes, he felt quite good, tonight.

"And besides, joke or not - I did promise you I would give you something if you managed not to gag at the soup. I never forget a promise."

His heart was like a frantic bird in a cage. He'd had a complete outfit change and went in with intent to go to war... for him. By all accounts, Vox of VoxTek was insane. But he'd have done the exact same thing all over again if he had to do the day over without hesitation.

The media demon was drawn in. Briefly, his claws settled beneath where his tie would have been on a normal day. In the soft blue light, the lazily drifting jellies like little stars floating overhead, the glow of red eyes, and the way the water slid down the other man's body, dribbled off the ears, taunting him...

Yeah. His libido was definitely scratching at the door and whining. It was begging him to tear off everything he was wearing, Velvette be damned, and dive into that tub. It was big enough...

Instead he folded his arms behind his back and made a slow circle around the room. It'd let him cool down.

The old ticker simply doesn't beat for anyone...

Yet small kisses along his monitor still burned in his memory.

I chose YOU.

Why did this man have to be so confusing?? He wanted to chew at the bars in himself, rattle them, but knew that if he pushed too far it'd hurt far more than help.

His libido could take a back seat.

"I think..." He began, paused, and made a show of consideration. "We should see if those hooves of yours are up to snuff before any dancing to unwind."

Vox cleared his throat quietly. "And we did figure out a position that helps you sleep somewhat comfortably, if I recall correctly. I think after mutually dealing with that woman's particular brand of unsettling aura, it's more than earned."

Not going for what Alastor assumed was the most appealing offering, not even tempted after seeing the shirt and then him in the bath... aren't you funny, being a little unpredictable? Or maybe Alastor's changing body wasn't as appealing? Hmm, no... that sounded counter to how the man always acted when he had it under his palm.

"That sounds pleasant, then. Dinner, a bit of music and unwinding from there, then," he concurred, using magic to summon the matching fur conditioner he found best made his hair soft. Might as well make for a pleasant cuddle buddy, he thought, coating the strands. "I will say my bed is preferable, but perhaps watching a film in your indulgent home theater may do well too."

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