Chapter Text
Vox was having a shitty day.
Firstly, he had overslept by an hour this morning and was therefore late to work. That meant having to deal with the tantrum of a very pissed off Valentino who threatened to demote him from personal assistant to janitor if he didn't get his act together.
(And, yes, you heard that correctly - he was Val's fucking assistant now. Because ever since the failed Heaven takeover - which had been more than a month ago - he had been put at this post as 'punishment' from the other two Vees.)
Secondly, Val had sent him to go collect some sheets from the printer and on the way there, Vox had slipped on a banana peel (cliché, right?) and fucking face-planted on the floor of the lobby in front of everyone as if he wasn't already the biggest joke in Hell. He also swore he saw someone snap a quick pic too, meaning he'd have to go pay Velvette a visit at some point and beg her to take it down from wherever it got posted. Knowing her though - she probably wouldn't.
Thirdly, since Val was busy filming a shoot starring Tiffany Titsucker or whatever the hell her name was, he had been passed onto Angel Dust to be his attendant as the whore was on his scheduled two hour break. During that painful window of time, Vox was subjected to giving the harlot foot massages, hand feeding him grapes, running back and forth between different shops to buy him snacks and having to put up with whatever verbal degradation that was directed at him. Damn, that slut could hold a grudge. And for what? Just 'cause Vox had done a teeny tiny bit of harmless hypnosis on him and made him backstab all of his friends unconsciously? Pfft, what a whiney, dramatic little bitch.
And, now, at the end of the day when Vox was finally fucking free - he got a message from Val.
The Vees 📺🦋🎀
Val 👀: @You @Velvs 💅 Group meeting at 8pm bitchesss, don't be late 😘😘😘
Ugh.
But on the bright side, Val hadn't held a meeting with the three of them ever since the, ahem, event that had happened a month ago and neither had any of them used that group chat in a while. Plus, the use of kissy face emojis meant that Val was in a good mood which would be a lot less of a headache to deal with.
Vox responded with a singular thumbs up before switching off his phone and flopping back onto his bed. Almost immediately, his stomach gave a quiet gurgle of protest as he frowned, giving it a small rub.
Come to think of it, he had felt a bit nauseous all day but thought it was related to all the running around he was doing. Either that or it was probably that double beef burger and large fries combo he had last night.
And wasn’t that just ridiculous in itself? He was a freaking television for fucks sake! Technically more machine than man and yet he still had to deal with these dumb human problems.
Welp, that was Hell for you. No one said it would be easy.
·•—–٠✤٠—–•·
When Vox entered the CEO’s office, Val was already there - draped across his chair like it was a throne. One arm was slung lazily behind the back, both of his long legs propped up on the armrest and another one of his many hands holding up a phone at eye level.
Vox would be lying if he said he didn’t envy him.
It wasn’t fair. So what if Vox’s plan blew up disastrously? They were all in on it together. Who the hell gave Valentino the right to save his face and come across as a ‘hero’ to the public while Vox’s own image was in shambles. The bitch didn’t even do anything! Except maybe rip his fucking head off…
”Um, Voxxy, hello?”
Vox blinked, snapping out of his thoughts and realising he had been just been standing there and glaring at Valentino for the past whole minute.
“You can sit down, you know?” Val raised a brow, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.
Vox cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding, before taking a seat.
Voxxy.
His hunch had been right - Val was in a good mood. He hadn’t called him that nickname since, like, forever!
Snapping his eyes up from where they had been glued to the desk, Vox was met with Val’s curious gaze.
“What’s that look for?”
Val shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve seen an actual smile on your face in ages.”
Vox frowned. Had he been smiling?
“Yeah, well, haven’t had a lot to smile about recently,” he snapped, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.
Val’s eyes narrowed. Shit.
“And whose fault was that?” the moth demon retorted, bitterly, and Vox sort of missed the soft look he was giving him before.
Before Vox could reply with something stupid and undoubtedly make the whole situation ten times worse, the door opened as Velvette stepped inside.
Vox watched as Val took a deep breath, physically grounding himself (a sight that was so jarring that Vox couldn’t help but gawk at him) as he put on a fake pout for Vel.
“Babydoll…” He whined. “What did I say about being late?”
“Soz Val,” she replied, blowing out her gum and then popping it with a satisfying snap. “Got caught up back at the studio. Some of the models got into a bit of a spat.” Velvette rolled her eyes, taking a seat next to Vox. She briefly met his eyes, giving a small nod of acknowledgment, before tapping away at her phone again.
Unlike with Val, his relationship with Velvette hadn’t been too rocky after the incident. Sure, she had been super pissed in the first week or so, but they had somewhat unoffically made up.
“Ay, they’re such divas,” Val tutted to which Velvette made a small noise of agreement. “Anyways, you’re both probably wondering why I’ve called you here.”
His eyes purposely shifted to Vox, who held his breath in anticipation. Beside him, Velvette was in no such agitation, as she fished into her purse for perfume before spraying it on either side of her neck. Vox scrunched his digital face up at the strong smell that reached his processors. Were her perfumes always this… fragrant?
“I have decided…” Val continued, even pausing for suspense, “that all three of the Vees need to reunite again.”
Vox's eyes widened, involuntarily, and his heart did a little stutter. At the same time, his stomach churned - probably excitement - as he looked back and forth between the other two Overlords. Velvette was smirking at him, clearly already aware of this little surprise, while Valentino looked like he was trying not to laugh at his expression.
“Wha-seriously? Are you serious?” he asked, incredulously, pushing his chair back as he stood up. His grin widened as they both nodded at him. “Holy shit. Fuck yes!” He cackled, feeling euphoric as he pumped his fists in the air. He turned to Val, eyes almost brimming with tears. “Val, I- thank you.”
“You’re welcome, cariño,” Val smiled, lighting himself a cigar. “But remember there are conditions.”
“Yeah, for starters, no talk about that fucking ugly-ass deer,” Velvette interjected, shooting him a glare to which Vox responded with a sheepish nod.
“And, of course, since it’s only been five weeks or something - people haven’t totally forgotten about what happened,” Val explained. “So, I was thinking, maybe you could do like a public apology campaign or whatever. Make those suckers think that you’ve really changed.”
Vox nodded along. He wasn’t super thrilled with that idea but, hey, fuck it - he was too goddamn happy right now and absolutely nothing could spoil his good mood. Speaking of being happy, Vox felt a strange lump caught up in his throat, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by emotion. He frowned, blinking rapidly, at the sensations. He wasn't typically this emotional about anything.
"Voxxy, baby, are you okay?" Val's concerned voice reached him.
"Yeah, I'm-" he paused at the strange sound of his voice cracking, looking down at his shaking hands through blurry vision. A teardrop hit the tip of his claw. Fuck, was he crying?
Velvette stood up at that, rolling her eyes fondly as she scoffed. "Come here, you big baby." At first, Vox stood stiffly in her embrace, not very used to this much physical affection from the shorter Overlord before he let himself melt into her arms, hugging her back just as closely.
"Aww, I didn't know we did group hugs now."
Vox flinched when he heard Val's voice from behind but accepted him joining into their little cuddle pile regardless, feeling too out of it to even question what the actual fuck was happening.
Being huddled this close to Velvette and Valentino, made the scents of their combined perfume, cologne and cigar smoke even more intense to Vox.
It was strong. Too strong.
"Um, guys," he croaked out, trying hard to shift out of their grasps and avoid the onslaught of smells on his processors. "Could you maybe let go for a bit? I don't feel great."
The two Vees shuffled back, although not far enough for Vox's liking, as they looked at him in confusion.
"What's wrong?" One of them asked, but Vox didn't have time to process who as next thing he knew: he was bolting across the room and locking himself into the bathroom, hurling into the toilet. It was times like these that he was grateful that each of them had installed private bathrooms into their offices.
A few seconds after he had finished throwing up (which was absolutely disgusting by the way) and was now hovering by the sink, breathing heavily - there was a knock at the door.
"Babe, are you okay?" Valentino asked. "Do you need me to get someone?"
"No, I'm fine," Vox croaked, swallowing down a gulp and instantly regretting it after the sour taste left in is mouth. He could make out sounds of hasty whispering from behind the door, no doubt about his weird behaviour, but Vox couldn't bring himself to focus. His head was throbbing, eyes wide and hazy in the reflection of the mirror and everything felt so overwhelming. He didn't remember the last time he had gotten so sick.
Oh well, nothing a bit of rest couldn't fix.
·•—–٠✤٠—–•·
Turns out, Vox was wrong.
A 'bit of rest' didn't do squat.
On the contrary, his condition seemed to be getting worse with each passing day. He threw up once nearly every damn morning, sometimes twice, and his emotions seemed to be all over the place, much to his disliking. The other day Val had made a joke about the little hat he always wore on his head and it had taken a full thirty minutes for him to calm down and stop being an inconsolable, sobbing mess.
And the eating habits?
Fuck, don't even get him started on that. Vox found himself, almost always, craving something sweet such as chocolate or cookies or whatever. In fairness, he always did have a bit of a sweet tooth but it was never this bad! Velvette even had to warn him to cut back on the junk food unless he wanted to end up like one of those ugly fat people that they were always making fun of.
Since this sickness had gone on for waaaaay too long now (two whole fucking weeks!), Vox decided that, yes, maybe he did need to see someone and get his software checked for any bugs or viruses. Usually, Baxter would have been the man for the job but as the little twerp decided to backstab them and join the merry little lollipop guild down at the HazSHIT (hehe) Hotel - that was no longer the case. Whatever. There were plenty of other guys on Vox's tech team that were just as competent.
"Ethan," Vox snapped at the eel sinner hovering uselessly beside his desk.
"Yes, sir?"
"Look through my schedule and pencil me in for a check-up this evening."
"Of course, sir," the skittery assistant replied, as he quickly flicked through the papers on his little clipboard before asking: "Would 6pm be fine, sir?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
"Okay, sir. I'll let one of the team know."
Vox watched as Ethan made his way to the door and was no longer able to control himself any further as he called out:
"Hey, wait up!"
The sinner paused, turning around.
"Yes, sir?"
Vox fidgeted awkwardly on his seat, twiddling his thumbs together unconsciously.
"Bring me some... cotton candy on your way back."
Ethan froze, gawking at him like he had just said the Earth was flat and causing Vox's cyan blush to intensify. What was his fucking life?
"...Cotton candy, sir?"
Vox cleared his throat, forcing his face to settle into a more stern expression.
"Yes, is that a problem, Ethan?"
"No, not at all, sir!" The eel predictably spluttered, turning red with fright, and filling Vox's cold, mechanical heart with glee. "I'll bring that for you right away!"
He was about to leave again when another urge made its way to Vox's annoyingly broken malfunctioning tastebuds and had him calling out again:
"Wait!"
Ethan turned around.
"I want lots of gummy bears on top," he muttered, eyes glued to his desk and screen feeling hot again. "...And rainbow coloured sprinkles."
His assistant blinked. And then nodded, slowly, before exiting the room, stumbling on his way out.
Vox took that opportunity to groan aloud and bury his face into his arms.
He needed a debug stat.
·•—–٠✤٠—–•·
Vox was waiting patiently, sitting on the corner of the bed, as one of the tech crew (he didn't know their names because why would he bother?) was tapping away on his computer, analysing the results from the tests he had taken. Hopefully, it wouldn't be a big issue and had an easy fix because the last thing he needed was any more distractions from work. It had been two weeks since he fully rejoined the Vees and made a public appearance too - doing a live apology and a bit of sweet-talking on TV (which was a major pain in the ass but, ultimately, worth it) - which meant that he really should be working on making new projects for VoxTek VeeTek so that they could boost sales and also gain back more credibility. And what better way than to make some flashy new gadgets that nobody really needed but wanted to have anyways? People just ate that shit up.
And who knows? Once Vox got his approval ratings up to a decent level and becomes a respectable Overlord again - he might just be able to start planning out his elaborate revenge scheme on that fucking Radio Demon Alastor and make him suffer for all that he did and-
"Sir?"
Vox blinked, being brought back to reality and meeting the confused gaze of his employee.
Oh shit, did he say that all out loud?
"Yes, you did, sir."
"Sh-shut up," Vox spat out, glitching in between as he straightened up. "Mind your own fucking business."
"My apologies, sir," the sinner replied, gingerly, before saying: "I've just finished running through the reports and it seems that the full body scan may have picked up.... something."
"Great, what is it?" Vox rolled his eyes. "Lemme guess, another system glitch? Man, I hate when those happen."
"A-actually, no," the other man stuttered, adjusting his glasses nervously. "It seems to be a... physical thing."
Vox frowned before giving a half-hearted shrug.
"Go on then, out with it."
"W-well, it is something most unusual and probably impossible even but...uh..." he trailed off, looking increasingly unsure which added to Vox's growing unease. Fuck, he wasn't losing his powers or some shit, was he?
"Spit it out. I haven't got all day," he snapped, shifting on his seat.
The sinner opened his mouth, closed it and then sighed before making his way up to Vox, holding a sheet out.
"What's this?"
"An ultrasound, sir. Please have a look."
Vox took it from the assistant's hand, holding it up close to his face as he squinted at it.
"What the fuck am I meant to be looking at?"
"See this here," the sinner said, pointing a claw at what appeared to be Vox's midsection. Vox narrowed his eyes at the small blob in the middle.
"Yeah, what is it?"
"...I think it may be a baby."
Vox froze. Slowly turning his head to the other man, who seemed to be getting paler by the second, he locked eyes with him, silent for a few seconds, before bursting out into raucous laughter.
"HAHAHA, oh my fucking- that is literally the most dumbest thing I've ever fucking heard!" he gasped out, in between cackles, as he clutched onto his stomach, bowling over in the hilarity of it all. "A-and your face!" He paused, snickering as he pointed to the sinner's terrified expression."Oh, fuck, you're.... you're crazy!”
After a few more moments of full-blown laughter which eventually died down into small chuckles, Vox regained his composure - wiping off a tear from the corner of his eye.
“Okay,” he said, letting out a deep breath, wincing as his sides sort of ached from all the hysterical laughing. “Now, enough joking around - tell me what the real issue is and how can I fix it?”
The sinner hesitated before quietly muttering:
”That was the real issue, sir.”
Vox paused, eyes narrowing into something dangerous.
“Look, it was funny the first time, I’ll give you that, but not anymore. I won’t ask you again - tell me the real issue. Now.”
“Sir, I promise you - I am telling the truth,” the assistant spoke, desperation seeping into his voice. Vox glared at his audacity as he hurriedly continued. “W-we can run some more tests just to make sure! But it’s all there in the ultrasound, sir. There is a baby growing inside of your womb.”
“Womb? Baby? What the fuck are you on about?” Vox growled, standing up and grabbing the other man by the lapels as he let out a terrified squeak. “I can’t be pregnant, you idiot, I’m a fucking man!”
“Yes, I am aware, sir. I am just as confused as you are,” the assistant placated, holding up his hands as if trying to soothe a wild animal, “And I’m sure there must be a logical explanation for this i-if you’d allow our team to do some research.”
But Vox wasn’t listening to him. He let go off the man’s suit, allowing him to fall into a graceless heap on the floor, as he stumbled back, shaking his head resolutely.
“No, no, that’s not- it’s impossible. I can’t be pregnant. I’m a man and I’m fucking dead, too.”
“Have you been experiencing any symptoms, sir?”
Vox snapped his head up and the assistant flinched at his fiery gaze.
“What?”
“Um, symptoms, sir. Such as nausea, vomiting, fatigue, mood swings, cravings…”
Shit.
“That could be for anything though, right?” Vox asked, nervously wringing his hands together. “Loads of illnesses have those symptoms.”
“Yes, but… the ultrasound-”
“Means nothing,” Vox snapped, cutting him off. “It’s just a little blob, okay? It doesn’t have to be a baby! It could be a… a tumor! Yes, that’s what it is!” Vox grinned before pausing and realising that he was sounding far too optimistic and happy for someone who found out that they might have a fucking tumor. Oh.
“Actually, sir, this can’t be a tumor,” the sinner said, matter-of-factly, as he gestured to the small blob on the sheet again. “As you can see there is a presence of a yolk sac and the embryo is a small bean shape currently, roughly 10mm long I suppose, and there seems to be some small formation of limbs present over here. I’d estimate you may be around 7-8 weeks along the course of your pregnancy.”
Vox blinked at him, feeling almost all of the colour drain from his screen.
No, this isn’t possible. It can’t be. I’m not…
“Okay then, how can you be so sure?” He protested, letting out a weak chuckle. “What are you? A doctor or something?”
The sinner gave him a look which could only be described as pitying.
“I was a radiologist when I was alive, sir.”
Well, fuck.
Vox blue-screened.
·•—–٠✤٠—–•·
When Vox woke up again, he found himself lying on the bed in his bedroom, surrounded by his two favourite shark plushes that Valentino and Velvette had once gotten him for his birthday, with a bouquet of red roses on his bedside table. There was a note attached.
Get well soon, Voxxy <33
From Val and Velvs xoxo
On the back, there was a very, ahem, explicit series of drawings of him and Valentino having sex in multiple different positions and roles. Well, he had to hand it to Val - the guy was a pretty damn good artist. Pocketing the note, Vox dragged himself up from bed, his limbs feeling like noodles as he shuffled across the room and towards his cupboard, picking out something more relaxing to wear. Judging by the tone of the note and its contents, the other Vees were not yet aware of his little... diagnosis.
Which meant he had the pleasure of explaining it to them.
Great.
Although, he didn't necessarily have to tell them but he figured he owed that much to Val, considering it was both of their baby anyways.
Wait.
Vox froze, eyes widening impossibly wide as he darted towards the calendar he had hung up on the wall.
7-8 weeks. His assistant had said 7-8 weeks.
Hurriedly, Vox flicked back through the pages of the calendar, arriving at an estimated date almost two months ago. Before his big rally where the angels showed up. Before his failure to take over Heaven. Before...he had broken his deal with Alastor.
Fuck.
He didn't know who the other father was.
·•—–٠✤٠—–•·
A few hours later, after Vox had finished screaming into his pillow and then hysterically crying, the three Vees were once again having another group meeting. But this time - Vox had called it.
"What do you think he wants to talk about?" Valentino whispered to Velvette, as they made their way down the corridor and towards Vox's office.
Velvette shrugged. "Dunno. He still hasn't told us what the results of his check-up were so prolly that."
The duo paused outside the door as Valentino cautiously knocked.
"Come in." Vox's voice called out from the other side of the door.
The two Vees obliged, opening the door, and stepping inside, clicking the lock behind them. They were greeted with Vox's exhausted visage and heavy eyebags (because somehow TVs were capable of having eyebags - don't question it).
"Voxxy, amorcito, are you alright?" Val cooed, making his way to the chair opposite his boyfriend(?) or whatever Vox was to him.
"Yeah, Vox, ya look like shit," Velvette said, sitting besides the moth demon. "How come you blue-screened earlier?"
"We tried asking that little faggot on your tech team but he wouldn't tell us what your scan results were," Val pouted, dramatically, leaning forwards on his elbows. "So, c'mon, enough waiting around - what's the issue, hm?"
Vox sighed, rubbing his eyes, before levelling his business partners with a stern look.
"Okay, under no circumstance anything I say here can leave this room. Understood?"
"Sure babes, won't tell a soul," Velvette said, rolling her eyes in obvious boredom. "Now can we just get on with it?"
Vox's eyes shifted to Valentino.
"Val?"
"I won't tell anyone either, Voxxy. I promise."
Vox nodded, seeming to be more at ease now as he slouched back on his chair.
"Well, this is gonna sound crazy - trust me, I know - but it's real and it's happening sooo here we go." Vox paused letting out a sharp exhale to soothe his nerves as the other two Vees leaned in closer, eyes wide with almost child-like curiosity.
"I'm...pregnant."
There was a heavy silence that followed. Vox looked between his associates who, funnily enough, had matching, slack-jawed expressions that would have been absolutely comical in any other scenario.
The awkward silence continued for another few moments, everyone frozen into position like wax statues.
Vox cleared his throat.
"Guys? Some input would be nice."
Velvette was the first to break out of her trance.
"Okay, fuck, wow. I'm... um... that was unexpected."
It wasn't everyday that the usually confident and brash doll Overlord was reduced to such little eloquence, which all the more added to the absolute batshit bizarre scenario that Vox was dealing with right now. He really prayed to God or whatever entity out there that this was all some crazy, self-induced fever dream and that he would wake up any second now.
"¡Dios mío!" Val finally spoke up and Vox flicked his attention back to the porn Overlord whose eyes were now brimming with tears. "Voxxy! That's amazing!" He squealed, practically throwing himself across the desk and pulling Vox into a bear hug. "We're going to be papis, yay!"
"Val," he choked out, barely being able to breathe over the tight hold the enthusiastic moth had around his neck. "Val, listen."
"Oh for fuck's sake, Val, give 'im some space," Velvette snapped from behind them, hitting Val with a loud 'thwack ' to get him off.
"Ow, bitch, don't hit me!"
"Val, listen," Vox repeated again, finally getting the other man's attention.
"Yes, baby, what is it?"
"I...uh..." he trailed off, scratching the back of his head. "I don't actually know who the other dad is..."
Vox felt his heart clench at the disappointment that clouded Valentino's features.
"Oh."
"Yeah," Vox awkwardly replied. "I'm sorry for getting you all excited and stuff."
Val straightened up, attempting to shrug off his disappointment and offering a small smile.
"Ay, don't worry, papi. It's okay. Besides," he paused, giving a cheeky wink. "there's still a chance it's mine, hm?"
Vox nodded, "Yeah, true. It's just between you and this one other guy."
"Oh? And who’s this other guy? You never mentioned another guy to me," Val leaned it, wiggling his brows up and down in a way that made Vox giggle. "Come on, I deserve to know who my competition is!" He whined, nudging the TV Overlord playfully.
"Yeah, Vox, spill," Velvette spoke up with a grin. "Who's the unlucky bastard?"
Vox froze up, screen glitching before coming back into view, a cyan blush painting his face despite himself.
"It's...um...well it was only like a one-night-stand thing so..."
"Tell us!" Valentino urged, practically vibrating on his seat in excitement.
Vox paused, taking a deep breath and praying for protection for whatever hell would unleash next because Satan knows he needed it.
"It's Alastor."
·•—–٠✤٠—–•·
That did not end well, Vox thought as he dodged a flying glass randomly thrown in his direction, wincing when he heard it crash into the wall behind him. While Valentino continued to curse in Spanish and smash several objects around his office, Velvette was busy verbally attacking Vox and screeching at him for being 'so stupid'.
"The fuckin' deer ? Are you fucking kiddin' me, Vox?! How could you forget everythin' that he's done to you! To us?"
Vox sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing at where his nose would be if he actually had one.
"I told you guys - we just hooked up. It wasn't that deep!"
Valentino, who was just about to hurl a self-portrait of Vox across he room, paused and stared at him, incredulously.
"Wasn't that deep? Hijo de puta, that Radio freak has tried to kill us several times!" Val pointed to his head. "Just look at what he did to my antenna!"
"Yeah, and didn't he like, I dunno - laugh in your face and break your heart or some shit?" Velvette snarked, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Wha- no he didn't 'break my heart', the fuck?" Vox spluttered, defensively, convincing absolutely no one. He was met with matching, unimpressed raised brow expressions from the other two Vees. "It doesn't matter anyways! I can choose whoever I want to fuck."
"Yes, Vox, you can," Velvette said, brows pinched together in a frown, "but unless you get off on being humiliated, you're not supposed to shag your enemy who has proven to you time and time again that he doesn't give a shit about you."
Ouch.
Vox held back a flinch at that.
“Okay can we move on now?” he snapped instead, screen flickering irritably. “What's done is done.”
“When did this even happen?" Val spoke up, red eyes blazing with barely contained fury, from where he was quietly watching in the corner of the room.
Vox hesitated before answering, honestly: "The day he became my prisoner. It was later, at night, y'know after we..." He trailed off, eyes flicking to Velvette's judgmental glare, suddenly feeling a lot more self-conscious.
"You mean after you made him watch us fuck?" Val finished, apparently feeling no such shame. Vox grimaced, nodding along, as Velvette made a small gagging noise.
Okay, so maybe he had gone a bit too far with that one.
He’d been riding the high of it - the victory, the control, the look on Alastor’s face when he paraded him around the city like a prized possession. After years of back-and-forth, of being mocked and undermined and treated like a noisy inconvenience, Vox had finally had him cornered. Powerless. Watching.
And Vox had wanted him to watch.
Not for the sex - not really. But for the humiliation. For the proof that Vox had won. That he could do whatever he wanted in his own tower while Alastor had to sit there, unable to stop him. It had been about dominance. About rubbing it in. About making sure the message was unmistakable.
In hindsight…maybe using Valentino as a prop in his petty little victory lap hadn’t been his finest moment.
Especially since Vox had spent most of it staring at Alastor instead.
"How the hell did you even get that prude to agree? Didn't know he could get it up." Velvette scoffed.
“We were both drunk,” Vox sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Like - properly drunk. I don’t remember most of it. Just that he said yes and then it all sorta just happened."
That wasn't entirely true. He did have some vague memories about the act in itself and mostly how good it felt but he figured that the other Vees wouldn't appreciate having to hear all the little details.
"Of course he said yes," Val chuckled, mirthlessly, lighting himself a cigar. "He always did love it when you begged."
"I didn't fucking beg," Vox lied countered.
"You would go ahead and do anything for that red twink's attention, wouldn't you?" Val continued, choosing to ignore him. "You'd backstab us, you'd try to kill yourself and everyone around you, you'd have his baby-"
Vox slammed his hand on the desk, shooting up from his seat.
"I didn't fucking choose this, Val."
The words came out sharper than he intended, more raw than angry, and for a second even Valentino looked vaguely startled.
The lights overhead buzzed faintly.
Valentino took a slow drag from his cigar, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “No?” he asked coolly. “Because from where I’m standing, you made a series of extremely stupid choices.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” Vox shot back, laughing incredulously. “You’re the one who told me we should just fuck already, remember?”
“I didn't mean it, idiota,” Val snapped. “I was making a joke!”
Velvette clapped sharply, cutting through the rising volume. “Okay. Enough." She looked between the two of them. "Fighting is not gonna fix anything."
The annoying part was that she was right. Vox sighed, sitting back down on his chair. Valentino glared for a couple more seconds before doing the same. All three of them sat in silence for the next few minutes.
Velvs tilted her head. “So. What now?”
Vox met her gaze, hesitating before answering: "Now I need to figure out who the father is.”
"Between me and Bambi, huh?" Val asked, no longer sounding angry but, instead, dejected.
Vox nodded.
“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” Velvs asked, scrunching up her doll-like face. “Hell doesn’t exactly have paternity tests and I’m pretty sure pregnancy is impossible among sinners. There’s no infrastructure for this.”
“I am painfully aware,” Vox replied dryly.
"So unless Maury Povich is runnin' a show down here, you haven't got much to work with."
Vox leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling a strange sense of hopelessness overcome him. Almost the same feeling he had after his Heaven plan failed.
“It’ll be complicated,” he admitted. “But I’ll figure something out.”
It was quiet again for a while after that - clearly no one knowing what else to say or do.
Val’s expression shifted after a moment, something more thoughtful creeping in. “Do you have any idea how this even happened?”
Vox’s shoulders stiffened.
“No,” he muttered, skin prickling with an emotion he didn't want to name. “I don’t.”
“And if it’s his?” Val asked, quieter now. “If it’s Alastor’s… what are you going to do?”
Vox didn’t answer straight away.
He’d been avoiding that branch of the future entirely - neatly shoving it into a folder labelled Deal With Later and refusing to open it. Because if it was Alastor’s... he didn't know what to feel. Happy? Angry? Scared? Relieved? And he didn't even want to begin to wonder what Alastor would feel about it. Would he laugh? Would he vanish? Would he... care?
One thing was certain - if the baby did belong to Alastor, then it would tether them together in a way that no rivalry and no friendship ever had or ever could.
It would mean that the one night Vox pretended didn’t matter had mattered more than anything else ever had.
It would mean that, beneath the humiliation and the power plays and the years of snarling at each other, there had been something real enough to create life out of it.
And that was far more terrifying than the pregnancy itself.
“I don’t know,” he said at last, but the words sounded thinner than he meant them to. Like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.
Val didn’t react immediately.
He just sat there, watching him.
And then - almost reluctantly - he spoke again.
“And if it’s mine?” he asked.
Vox looked up at him, at his furrowed brows and uncertain eyes. At the way he almost shrunk in on himself, upper set of arms folded tight across his chest, fingers digging into his sleeves like he was bracing himself.
“If it’s ours,” Val clarified, his voice dipping lower, softer in a way Vox had only heard a handful of times - late at night, when the bravado slipped and the room was dark enough that neither of them had to pretend as much. “What are you gonna do then?”
What would Vox do?
A baby. In Hell. His baby.
Something small and loud and fragile in a world that preyed on weakness. Something that would tie him to Valentino in a way even sex and business never had. Something that was a part of him and that he would be forced to care about.
Did he want that?
Could he want that?
He had never had a child in life, never saw the appeal of it either. But now that it was happening... he didn't know what to do.
Vox swallowed.
“I don’t know,” he said again.
Val’s expression tightened - something vulnerable and sad flashing across it before being carefully tucked away behind smoke and indifference.
Velvette, unusually, didn’t give any snide remarks.
The tower hummed around them, neon lights buzzing faintly, the world outside continuing on in oblivious chaos.
Inside the office, three of the most well-known and influential Overlords in Hell sat soundlessly together, in a show of silent support.
And for the first time since Vox had seen that small blob on the ultrasound, the question didn’t feel like who the father was or how did this even happen.
It felt like whether he was ready to take this on at all.