Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alastor’s day could be going a lot better.

“This is the best day of my fucking life!” Vox crows, because he, it just so happens, is having a far better time than Alastor is.

“PUT ME DOWN!” Alastor demands, smacking his fists against Vox’s chest, which seems to be working about as well as a rubber hammer would to a brick wall.

“Holy shit, Velvette, did that really just happen?”

“Oh, it happened, babe!”

“LET ME GO!”

“I mean, I just, he really,” Vox laughs again, looking delirious as he grips the side of his head with his hand, like he’s not even sure what to think. “Am I dreaming right now? This has to be a dream. This is, I mean,” he picks up Alastor again, holding him out in front of him like a child would a kitten, “what the fuck happened to you?”

Alastor slams his foot in Vox’s face.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Put me down right now!” Alastor orders, kicking him again.

“Fine, if that’s what you want.” Vox lets him go and Alastor drops unceremoniously onto the limo floor.

Probably should’ve seen that coming. His fall isn’t graceful, what with the speed the driver is going at, and he barely bites back a grunt as pain lances through his chest. The stitches holding together his wound strain and he pauses for a handful of seconds, gauging whether or not they’d broken. When he’s sure they’re still intact, he turns over so he’s propped on his arms and scoots back, putting some distance between himself and the two Overlords watching him with the utmost glee. He bristles to find Velvette with her phone pointed at him and he unconsciously reaches out to disrupt the feed, only to be slapped with the reminder that, oh yeah, he’s kind of in a no good, fucked up, very bad situation right now, because his transformation hadn’t only reverted him back to the size, stature, and physical strength of a normal human, but the power level of one as well.

If he’d known this is how his day was going to go, he would’ve called in sick and stayed in bed.

Vox leans forward on his seat, arms braced on his knees, looking tickled pink—or blue, technically. “Seriously, Alastor, Al, what the hell happened? What kind of voodoo bullshit backfired on you to leave you like this.”

Alastor presses his lips together.

‘It wasn’t voodoo,’ he wants to snidely correct him, but Vox already knows that. Alastor’s drilled the difference between voodoo, hoodoo, and magic into his thick, plastic skull enough times that not even he can wipe it from whatever server he uses as a memory bank.

And besides,, it wasn’t his magic that back-fired, thank you very much! This is the result of the childish actions of a soft-headed, pint-sized dead beat who doesn’t know how to take a joke! Hell, Alastor isn’t even sure what it was he and Lucifer had been fighting about this time! The drapes? Their clothes? The other person’s general presence in their vicinity?

Probably all of the above. They can cover a lot of ground when they really get going.

All he knew was that at some point, Lucifer’s tastes in general were brought into question.

“Oh, that’s a lot of talk for someone with a bob-cut! I bet you weren’t even that attractive when you were alive!”

“Pfft! Considering your taste in,” Alastor had stepped back to look him up and down, nose curled, “well, EVERYTHING, you wouldn’t know if something was attractive if it bit you in the ass.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Honestly, it’s a wonder you landed someone like Lilith at all! Although, I guess with your only competition being Adam, she was already scraping the bottom of the barrel, wasn’t she?”

Lucifer’s eyes had flashed and he’d snarled, “Bite this bitch!” before snapping his fingers and for a split-second Alastor’s vision was consumed in red smoke and gold sparkles. When it eventually faded, he’d felt...odd. Off-kilter. The world around him had suddenly felt larger than before. The air hotter. His senses dulled. When he’d found Lucifer again, he was technically still looking down at him, but their height difference wasn’t as large as before. Almost as if Lucifer had grown.

Or Alastor had shrunk.

He’d looked down at his brown-skinned hands, the red vest and white button-up he was suddenly wearing, and then up at the stupefied faces of Charlie’s friends—who’d been content to watch their fight from the sidelines—and had the overwhelming desire to grip his hair and scream. He’d spun back on Lucifer, who’s shit-eating grin was gone and replaced with a slack jaw and large, round eyes.

“What the fuck did you just do?!” he had demanded and was rattled to his core when his voice came out absent of its radio overlay.

Lucifer’s cheeks glowed a faint brown-ish gold and with an unexpected POP! He’d disappeared, leaving behind his half-empty ‘Deer Season’ mug and the faint aroma of apples. Alastor had turned to the others in the room, feeling at a loss. It was quiet for a beat before everything exploded in pandemonium. Their ruckus eventually drew Charlie’s attention. She’d burst into the room, looking excited about something, but whatever it was had been forgotten the instant her eyes landed on him.

He hadn’t done much after that, deciding to let the others explain the situation as he focused on quietly adjusting to the stark change his body had undergone instead of giving into the irrational urge to lock himself inside the nearest bathroom and barricade the door. It was decided that Vaggi, Husk, Cherri Bomb, Angel Dust, and Niffty round up the hotel’s new guests and take them to the library so that he could at least get somewhere without being seen.

They’d wanted to keep things quiet. All he and Charlie needed to do was find Lucifer and force him to change him back. Even if the little man decided to free-roam for a while, so long as Alastor got somewhere where he wouldn’t have to worry about being stepped on, they could’ve just waited for him to pop back up.

None of them had accounted for Vox showing up.

Of all the fucking times.

When Alastor doesn’t answer him, a few cords snake along the floor and wrap around his legs before he can scramble away and drag him back to Vox. They lift him in the air, dangling him in front of him and twisting him from side to side so Vox can look at him from all angles.

“Come on, don’t shut up now. I thought you liked the sound of your own voice.”

“Put me down!”

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

“It’s none of your business!”

“Well, you are in the back of my limo, so I think it is my business.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Alastor spits.

“I didn’t say it’s not my fault, just that it’s my business.”

“Well, I don’t think it is.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re in any position to be this mouthy.”

“The day I care about what you think is the day you grow hair on that bald square of yours!”

Vox makes an affronted noise, one hand self-consciously going to his head. He had love to whine and cry about how luscious his hair had been back when he was alive. Hell was hilarious for subjecting him to permanent baldness.

“Ugh, stop gabbing, Vox, and hold him still,” Velvette interrupts, grabbing Alastor by the jaw and turning his head to the side. “I’m trying to get him at a better angle.” Alastor wrenches his face away and snaps at her manicured fingers. “Ooh,” she snickers, “watch out, kitten’s trying to bite.”

Vox laughs, but it's not as strong this time, as he’s still petting the top of his head with his hand. “Yeah, he’ll do that.” He maneuvers the cables so they settle Alastor onto his lap, and then snatches him by the waist and drags him back when he tries to crawl out. “Would you stop squirming and just sit for a second so I can take a look at you.’

“No!”

“Yeah, well, if you’re not going to cooperate, I’m just gonna,” several more cables whip out and snap around Alastor’s body, pinning his legs together and his arms to his sides. Suddenly off-balance, Alastor teeters forward, falling against Vox’s body, and smile-scowls up at him, chin now propped on his chest.

Vox is practically glowing, looking every bit a kid in a candy store. “You know,” he says, running the back of his claw down the side of Alastor’s face, “I think I can get used to this.”

“Well don’t,” Alastor snips, leaning away from the touch. “This is only temporary. The spell is going to wear off.”

He hopes.

Who the fuck knows how long this will last, or if it’ll even fade at all, but what these two don’t know can’t hurt him. Best to keep them on their toes.

“Heh, guess I better take advantage of it while I can then,” Vox says, and oh no, that doesn’t bode well. “We’re going to have so much fun, Al.”

Bracing himself, Alastor does the best he can to lean out of Vox’s body without putting too much strain on his stitches. The skin they’re threaded through is throbbing now, already pulled too tight from all the rough-handling thus far. Lucifer’s magic can revert him to his human self but it couldn’t fix up his wound while it was at it? Typical.

The last thing he needs is another thing Vox can take advantage of. He needs to tread carefully. Bide his time. Whether or not this spell fades, Charlie won’t just leave him in the Vee’s clutches.

Hopefully.

He’s pretty sure she won’t.

So, he’ll just have to wait until she and the others get their shit together and—once again, hopefully—mount a rescue operation. Buuuut considering how well their plans tend to go, Alastor probably shouldn’t get his hopes up either.

Drat.

Gathering his composure, he peels himself off of Vox’s chest and sits back, still in his lap for lack of anywhere else to sit that doesn’t require him flopping over and potentially ripping open his chest. This catches Vox off guard, who stares down at him, eyes wide and screen the slightest shade brighter.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” Alastor drawls. “What do you plan on doing with me while I’m in your fiendish little clutches.”

“I, um…” Vox swallows, eyes darting from Alastor’s face, to his legs, like he’s trying to wrap his head around the fact that Alastor was still in his lap at all. “Uhhhh…”

“Can I dress him up?” Velvette asks, leaning into Alastor’s personal space again. “I’ve already got the girls working on a few sketches, they should be ready by the time we get him home.”

Vox blinks and looks at her. “Already? Vel, it’s been, like, five minutes.”

“Yeah? What of it? I could have a whole new line by the end of the night if you’ll just give him here,” she grabs Alastor’s arm and drags him halfway off of Vox’s legs, “and put him in some proper lighting.” She lifts her camera again. “Can’t have people thinking you edited him in.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there,” Vox says with an smooth, easy chuckle as he picks up Alastor and returns him to his lap, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I don’t want anyone else knowing about him just yet.”

Velvette lowers her phone, eyebrow arching. “Why?”

Vox falters. “We-well, because, there, there will be plenty of time to live-stream to your followers, we don’t have to jump the gun.” He regains his smooth, suave expression and leans back in his seat. “Baby steps, alright? I mean, come on, look at him!” He gestures airily at Alastor, who levels him with a deadpan look. “We just got him. I don’t want to share him yet.”

Velvette rolls her eyes, snorting. “Uh-huh.” Her lips crook upward. “You know, I think that’s the most honest thing that’s come out of your mouth all week.”

Vox laughs, holding up his hands. “Guilty.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll let you have your fun first. In fact,” she lifts a finger as if to put him on hold and quickly scrolls through her phone before pressing it to her ear, “I think we should give a heads-up before we—oh, Valentino, baby! Haha, yes, we’re on our way home. You’re not going to believe what me and Vox picked up at that bitches hotel!” She listens to the other line for a moment before rolling her eyes. “No, not STD’s, for fucksake, Val, we’ve only been gone fifteen minutes...yeah, okay, whatever, listen! Vox and I are bringing home a present and you’re never going to guess what it is!”

Another pause and she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, it’s not Angel.”

Vox scowls and looks away with an annoyed huff. Alastor eyes him critically.

“But that’s on me, I should’ve known that’s what you’d guess,” Velvette continues. Another pause. “No, Val, stop guessing, just, ugh, meet us at the tower, alright?...Haha, okay, see you in a few, love. Uh-huh. Okay. Yes, yes, buh-bye!” She makes a few kissy noises into the phone and ends the call. “Val says he’ll meet us on his floor.”

“Oh, goodie, more people,” Alastor grumbles, then growls when Vox hooks a finger into one of the cables tied around his chest and drags him closer.

“Like I said, we’re going to have so much fun," he says, dark and full of promise. His eyes brighten. "For instance!” He grabs Alastor’s face and twists it to the side so it's smooshed against his. “Selfie! Smile Al!”

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