Chapter Text
Charlie was vibrating with excitement. She just knew the aquarium visit would not only help Ella, but would be a big boost to Vox as well. In a sea of awful things one could say about Vox, his sincere love for his pet sharks was not one of them.
The bathroom door swung open, and Vox stepped out. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes wide, and his mouth a barely perceptible line. The idea of leaving his tower after six long months was obviously terrifying to him. Charlie felt a tiny pang in her chest for him. If this hadn't been Vox, if it had been Cherri, or Angel, or even Husk, she would have grabbed their hand and pulled them into a hug, but this was Vox. And even though he looked like he needed a hug, more than any one could possibly need a hug, she held back. He had made so much progress over the past few days, she was cautious of undoing it, and with Vox’s fragile state, that was an all too likely outcome. Instead, she smiled.
“Ready to see Ella?” she asked, careful to emphasize the thing he wanted to do, and avoid the thing he didn’t want.
He crossed his arms and diligently avoided eye contact. “You sure no one will see me?”
“Absolutely!” She beamed and tapped her nails on a large cardboard box, “you'll just look like someone carrying a big box. No one will suspect it's you.”
Vox grimaced and shifted from side to side. Everything about his body language screamed discomfort. “But once we get inside, I'll have to take the box off, if I want to see Ella. The aquarium employee will see me and-”
“Yes! He knows it's you coming, and he promised to not tell a soul! He’s just happy you'll be able to visit with your babies! C’mon, Vox! You're gonna be so happy once you get there, I promise!” She was pushing; she knew she shouldn't, but it had been working with Vox. He wanted to assure his sharks were in good health. She knew this. To achieve this, she needed to push a bit. Surely, it was okay in this instance.
“OK,” he mumbled quietly, but just loud enough to hear. It was enough for Charlie to take as his consent, and maybe she wasn’t going to pull him in for a hug, but she did grab his hand and pull him along.
He trotted along with little resistance and even tightened his grip on her hand. Despite his anxiety and insecurity, there was something so safe about the pressure from his large, strong hand. Charlie smiled at him again. He returned it this time, but it flashed away as he reached for the box to put over his head. She knew why he did it, he was the most hated demon in Hell. She, herself, had months of very nearly hating the guy too, and yet it still hurt to see him so ashamed to show his face. She squeezed his hand a little harder, and he squeezed back. She couldn't help but wonder what his expression looked like under the cardboard blockade.
…
Vox took a flimsy breath and lifted the box above his eyes. They were inside the aquarium, but in a restricted access area. It was relieving to be away from public scrutiny. As he took in the surroundings— crates, scuba suits, barrels of fish— his eyes locked on a slender barracuda sinner.
“Hello, Mr. Vox!” The airy, cheerful voice starkly contrasted the seemingly dangerous exterior of the aquarium employee.
Vox waved shyly. It was unlike him, but hearing a stranger call his name in such a chipper, and almost reverent tone, made him queasy. He threw the box completely off his head. Maybe some cool airflow to his vents would help him relax. He tried to steady his breath as the barracuda extended a fin-like hand.
It was fine, it was just a handshake. That didn't count as laying his hands on someone. It definitely wasn’t creepy, right? Vox stretched out his hand —it wasn’t trembling, it definitely wasn’t trembling— but jerked it away just before meeting Barry's hand. “Can we just get to my sharks? I'm worried about Ella.”
“Vox!” Charlie said pointedly, “don't be rude! Barry is trying to help!”
“It's ok, Princess. It's like he said, he's just here for the sharks, not me.” Barry’s smile faded and he gestured for Vox and Charlie to follow.
Damn, was Barry another one of those do-gooders like Charlie? Probably, but only in the sense that he wanted recognition and accolades for helping others. There was no such thing as selflessness. Still, whatever the motivation, this guy was trying to help make sure Ella was safe and happy. An apology was in order, or perhaps an explanation, but how could he possibly turn the jumbled mess in his mind into something coherent.
Easy you idiot, just say you're sorry. But no, it wasn’t so easy because that would look vulnerable, weak, and pathetic. Then again, what kind of face was he trying to save? He had entered the aquarium with a giant cardboard box over his head. Nothing screamed pride like covering one’s face from all of the Pride Ring.
“Barry,” Vox said softly as he eyed the cold, tile floor. He had spoken so softly, in fact, that Barry hadn't heard him at all.
“There she is, in the back. Why don't you come closer and see if she notices you.” Barry gently patted the glass, and Duke, Louis, and Benny made their way swiftly to the sound.
“MY BABIES!” Vox’s heart filled with the unique warmth and joy that could only be brought by the earnest love of an animal. He tripped over himself and slammed into the double-walled glass. The three male sharks wiggled and returned their daddy’s enthusiastic greeting in their own sharky ways.
“Be careful!” Charlie called after Vox’s clumsiness, but he paid no mind. The pain and embarrassment of colliding with glass was nothing compared to the relief of seeing his aquarium-bound friends.
As the excitement of the greeting dwindled, Vox inspected his sharks carefully. Well-fed, alert, and vibrant, just as he had seen in the photo Charlie had sent earlier. It was true, Barry had been taking excellent care of them. Still, there was the worrisome case of Ella. Vox turned away from his boys and searched the tank for where she had gone. To his delight, she was approaching, slowly, but still approaching nonetheless.
“Ella!” he exclaimed in the same way one would address a puppy, “C’mere!”
He squatted and patted his thighs, again, in the same manner one would beckon a dog. Slowly, but surely she approached the glass, her body language livening much like her brothers, until she very much resembled a wiggly puppy.
“Ella! My sweet girl! You poor thing, you look so, so thin. How ‘bout I bring you a snack, sweetie?”
With an earnest softness, Vox turned to face Barry. “May I feed her?”
“Yes, follow me.” Barry nodded and motioned for Vox to follow up a staircase that led to the top of the tank. Charlie scampered behind. At the sound of the delicate patter of her hooves, Vox turned and a blushy smile brightened his screen. She reciprocated his smile with a chuckle that she hid behind her hand. He nearly choked. What the fuck was he getting smiley with the princess for? He needed to cover such an embarrassing display immediately. It made the most sense to babble about his sharks, so babble he did.
“Ella’s the youngest of my sharks,” he began, “but don’t let her size or age fool you, she doesn’t let the boys get the best of her. She’s smart, cunning, and the sweetest good girl in the whole world. Benny was my first shark. He’s the oldest. I got him to celebrate the opening of Vee Tower, but the tank I had built was just so big, he couldn’t be all alone in there, so then I got him a friend. That was Duke, but really two wasn’t enough. They looked so lonely, so I got Louis. But you know, three wasn’t enough either. They needed another friend, and that’s when I got Ella. Some day I would like a whole fleet of sharks, but I guess, well…”
Queasiness returned as Vox talked about his hopes and aspirations. He had no right to dream and scheme any more. Not after his spectacular failure in front of all of Hell. He cleared his throat as he frantically sought a change of topic. “That’s, well, um, just a silly, um, so, did you know my sharks are one of the rarest species in all of Hell?”
Before Charlie could answer, they had reached the top of the tank. Barry opened a tub of dead fish. A horrendous stench rose from the container. Charlie gagged and covered her face. Vox leaned in and narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t wild caught,” he stated.
“No, sir,” Barry answered with a slight shake in his voice, “we raise the feed here.”
“My sharks are accustomed to much finer fish. I’m surprised you don’t know this.” Cyan claws encircled several of the dead, silvery fish, and Vox made his way to the edge of the tank.
“I can speak to the boss and ask if we can ship in some wild caught fish! Let me know which type they prefer, and I’ll gladly pass the word along!” Barry used that irksome chipper tone again.
Vox threw Barry a glare. “Your boss should know exactly what they prefer. It was stipulated in the contract for their temporary rehoming.”
“Sorry, sir, this is the first time I’m hearing of their dietary preferences. I’ll bring it up with him.”
“Good,” Vox frowned, but shrugged off his disappointment. It was time to turn his attention to those who really mattered, so he mustered the broadest grin he could for his beloved pets.
All four sharks swarmed near the top of the tank. Gleeful laughter rattled from his screen as he tossed the circling sharks fistfuls of fish. Ella joined in the feeding frenzy. Overcome with joy at the sight of seeing his sharks happy and nourishing themselves, Vox kicked off his shoes, ripped off his shirt, and dove into the tank.
***
Charlie gasped as Vox submerged into the shark infested water. On impulse, she ran to the edge of the tank and reached out a hand to help him. “Vox! Vox! C’mon, this is stupid and dangerous, please don’t do this!”
She squinted to try to see into the depths of the water, hoping she wouldn’t be witness to Vox being torn apart by his finned friends. And instead, to her delight, she saw something wonderful. One of the sharks zoomed to the surface with a smiling, tv headed rider holding tightly to its back.
“Vox?” Charlie questioned as she pulled away to avoid being splashed.
He didn’t answer, he couldn't, he was too busy giggling like a little boy as he played with and rode his sharks.
“Is that safe?” Charlie turned to question Barry.
The barracuda sinner shrugged. “Typically, I would recommend against hugging and riding sharks, but something tells me he’s done this many times before.”