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One thing that is 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 going to be true about Alastor is that he is 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 meticulous.
Always was, always is, always will be.
And this was not another word for careful. He was not careful in a sense of gentleness, or kindness or sympathy.
He was meticulous about predicting people's next moves, as if his every day was a chess game. He was meticulous about reading a room. He was meticulous about cutting his victims in perfect little pieces and creating as little mess as possible. He was meticulous about cleaning the place he shares with the one he mostly calls 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
Vox on the other hand mostly calls him 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺.
(Behind locked doors. Behind double locked, sealed, someone-swallowed-the-key doors.)
Despite fighting even about the doormat, they would never trade their privacy. They knew what a rarity it was in hell, let alone while living as an overlord.
Their marriage happened impulsively, under everyone's noses. They found someone who used to officiate weddings, they kidnapped two random people off the street that Vox brainwashed to be their witnesses and forget it after and their vows were both a threat and a promise.
𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
(And something about love and cherishing, sickness and health, richer and poorer, blah blah blah. Alastor wasn't really paying attention.)
Next day on his company's meeting, Vox was wearing a wedding band and Velvette didn't speak to him for a week for not telling her beforehand.
And Alastor, meticulous as always, decided not to make a big deal out of it. He was the radio demon. Now he just happened to have the proof on his hands that he was 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵 as Vox so delicately was putting it.
But yes, it wasn't as if his life changed drastically. The only difference was that now, if he wanted to hunt someone, or touch something dirty, or have a bath, or even wash his hands, he'd remove it first. He was meticulous about protecting it too.
It was golden, so golden it'd break teeth. Vox made sure of that. Still, he felt more secure taking it off.
So when, as a habit, he went to take it off while he was cooking lunch but found his ring finger empty already, he was puzzled enough.
He didn't understand. It's not like he had done much all morning.
So he began looking while waiting for the rice to be ready. He looked next to their sink at first, the most usual place. It was nowhere, but wasn't that to be expected?
Vox's stupid, smart dishwasher was lately doing the majority of the plate washing. Alastor was barely rinsing his favourite spoon or his mugs at best and refused to bother with the dishwasher no matter how many times Vox attempted to teach him.
They left it at this; now half their things looked haunted and the other half looked as if they could start the machine takeover of the world.
He's almost concerned sometimes that if him or Vox goes missing, the other would starve before they'd figure out how the other's machines works. That was how meticulous they were about sharing responsibilities.
It only took a quick scan of the otherwise neat counter for Alastor to realize that he would not find the ring there. He almost trips over their smart vacuum cleaner (another device Alastor swears it has a personal feud with him) on his way to the next searching point.
The bathroom.
It smells too much like Vox's cologne, after all it's the last thing he applies before leaving. It smells clean, sharp, rich, and the little bottle is still by their sink when Alastor stands in front of the mirror, probably in the exact same place Vox was a few hours ago. Their toothbrushes are inside the same holder, Alastor's ceramic one, while Vox's aquatic blue stays empty and Alastor resists the urge to roll his eyes. Another bad habit of his husband. Although he had never been careful, or meticulous or that kind with anything, he'd always put their toothbrushes together 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦.
Not even his toothbrush was safe from Vox's disregard of personal space.
He cleans there too; he tucks the cologne inside the small cabinet again, he puts Vox's toothbrush back in its original place, he lifts towers, bottles...hell, he even looks inside the seperate holders, but in vain. He tries to remember if he was wearing it while washing his face that morning or if he had taken it off beforehand but his memory is way too blurry for his liking.
Where else had he been in since?
Their bedroom was right next to the bathroom. Their bed, which was tidy but not 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 tidy, was probably Vox's latest attempt at roughly fixing it before he left and that almost makes Alastor's lips curl upwards.
Vox knows how much Alastor hates tossed sheets. Alastor doesn't believe 𝘩𝘦 has to be the one to mess them up this time.
He checks the pillows, underneath 𝘢𝘯𝘥 inside the pillowcases. He tosses their blankets at the feet of the bed. Then he moves to his bedside table, for a typical search.
In vain, he knew. He doesn't open his drawers much apart from taking out his hairbrush or his alarm clock. He has always what he needs --a radio, the latest book he's reading before bed, a glass of water-- right on top of his bedside table so they'll always be within reach.
Of course he searches Vox's side next.
Vox's drawers compared to his are as if he's storing supplies just in case he is forcefully confined to bed forever: a digital alarm clock, batteries, chargers --way too many-- and wires, socks, water bottle, his emergency phone (dead and uncharged), a packet of condoms and lube, for if it's one of these days...
Everything but no ring. Alastor messes up the calculated mess more and it bothers him that despite everything, he still can't remember when or where he took it off.
He has more rooms to search. But instead he goes back to the kitchen, before the food is overcooked.
He can search later. After all Vox once had forgotten he had put on his hat and spent thirty minutes searching.
He wouldn't notice the ring missing.
Alastor was always meticulous. Always.
And yet he couldn't find the damn ring even after hours of search. He checked underneath the bed. He checked underneath the kitchen sink. He checked cabinets, places he hadn't touched all week, even went through Vox's work pile just in case. Only place he hadn't searched was...
"What are you doing?" He heard Vox say from his desk, while he was in the middle of searching between the bookshelves. He can feel Vox's eyes on him, even his stylus stopped clicking and Alastor breathes out through his nose.
"I am plotting your murder."
"Hmm..." A calm, irritating hum. "Have fun. Just either do it before Thursday or let me cancel our dinner. We've got a reservation, remember?"
At this moment, Alastor decides he hates him. He hates him because if it wasn't for stupid Vox and his stupid smile and his stupid convincing ways, Alastor would never marry him and he'd never have a ring in the first place in order to lose it.
Their vacuum cleaner, who somehow miraculously made it inside the office too, bumped into his leg. It tries repeatedly to continue its way, but Alastor doesn't give the satisfaction of moving.
Behind him, Vox's phone buzzes with a notification.
"New immovable object detected." Vox reads out the stupid message he received from their vacuum. He has received countless messages like that one, informing him their vacuum either is 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘧 (the small bump on their doorframe) or warning of 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 (a sock stuck in one of the wheels). And since Vox so loves this one, Alastor refuses to bother with that one too.
There's a snort when Alastor nudges the cleaner away, his irritation visible.
"Immovable object indeed."
He decides to leave the room and come search later, when Vox wouldn't be in there, showing off 𝘩𝘪𝘴 ring and waiting to tell him 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 when Alastor would eventually tell him he lost it.
He decides that he'll postpone telling him until he's positive he has searched the whole house.
So he waits. He waits for Vox to go eat something, or go watch some TV, sprawled on their couch and that's when he goes to search again.
He almost trips over their vacuum cleaner again, that has somehow not moved an inch.
Alastor was always meticulous. Always.
But it seems as if the ring's disappearance removed his special powers after all.
He had searched the whole house until nighttime. Underneath furniture, on top of shelves, went back and forth from the one room to the other trying to remember his day step by step... Even ordered his shadow to go help!
He decided to end his research for the day on the same place he started.
At the bathroom. Same things as always.
Vox's toothbrush is again inside Alastor's holder and Alastor finds it more irritating than endearing.
He puts it back to his original place, simply out of spite before he joins Vox back to their bed. He is there, with his back against the headrest, writing something on his laptop and he doesn't stop when Alastor walks in.
Better that way. Alastor can just sleep and deal with it tomorrow.
He just miserably plopped into his side, hands underneath the pillow, away from Vox's eyes and planned to keep staring at nothing until he drifted off to sleep, but obviously it wouldn't be so easy.
"You're not gonna brush your hair?"
Damn Vox and how good he had memorized his schedule.
Alastor always brushed his hair before sleeping. If his fur could get tangled, it was nothing compared to his hair.
Today he feels like if he attempts to, he won't do that correctly either.
"No."
"How come?"
"I'm tired."
For a second there is nothing.
Then there is a soft grunt, the bed bouncing lightly, and Vox's hand appears on his vision, grabbing his hairbrush from the bedside table and slowly, carefully even, brushes Alastor's hair, the part that isn't covered by the pillow at least.
Alastor prefers to keep staring at nothing, at least until Vox gets the cue to stop.
His patience runs out the next second.
"I said I do not have the energy, Vox."
Alastor's hand sneaks out from underneath the pillow and grabs the hairbrush out of Vox's hand, simply so it will stop touching him. He had already left it with a loud thud back to his bedside table and had put his hand back underneath the pillow, when he realized what he had done.
He just hopes in so little time that it took, Vox wouldn't notice the ring missing.
There are a few seconds that they spend in complete silence, Alastor staring at nothing, Vox sort of on top of him.
"Okay..." There is a hand, momentarily squeezing his shoulder and then it leaves. "Goodnight."
𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺? A squeeze on the shoulder? Vox has been more intimate with Velvette than a damn 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳. Vox has been more intimate with strangers, let alone with his husband.
Alastor doesn't bother responding. He will focus on finding the ring tomorrow and then he will return back to his usual self.
He's sure of that.
"Okay, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 did I do?" It's the first thing Vox says to Velvette when he walks inside their meeting room next morning. The girl, busy with her phone, barely spares him a glance.
"You gotta be more specific than that, babe."
"Alastor is mad at me." Vox said before he melted into the nearest chair. "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 did I do?"
"How am I supposed to know what you did?"
"Think! You know Alastor, what would he get angry for?"
"On a bad day? You breathing would get him angry."
"Stop joking and help me out...you know each other. Did I miss something important? It can't be...I've got reminders. Do we have a second anniversary or--"
"I wouldn't know. I wasn't invited." Velvette said because of course she wouldn't help immediately without making fun of the situation at first.
Vox almost considers asking Valentino, although judging by his social media's latest story, partying until the first morning hours, he wouldn't appreciate it, being woken up.
"Fuck, you and Alastor are the same. Can you help me out here? Please?"
"Alright." Velvette put her phone away from her face, although she didn't exactly close it and crossed her arms with a frown. "How are you so sure he's angry?"
"Trust me, I can tell when Alastor is angry." Vox shook his head left and right. "It started yesterday, I think. I put our toothbrushes on the same holder, he removed mine. Twice."
Velvette raised a questioning eyebrow. "Uh huh...That's all?"
"Of course not. At first I thought 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺! I put them together, he puts mine back. It doesn't mean anything."
"Uh huh."
"Then he wasn't really talking at lunch."
"Uh huh."
"Then I asked him what he was doing and he said he's plotting my murder."
"Uh huh."
"And I didn't think much again, you know. Love languages! But at night he just... 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 at me."
"That's all?" Velvette asked, with a scoff. "Cause that sounds exactly like the man you married, babe. You knew how he feels about the cheesy shit you might like doing 𝘢𝘯𝘥 about touch. You knew and you married him anyway. And the murder part? Pot, kettle." The girl leaned back on her chair, confidently. "You worry about nothing."
"He's not wearing his ring." Vox said, his eyes filled with concern. "I saw it while we were eating and I thought I saw wrong. Then while he was cleaning. I said 𝘩𝘦𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘵. I know how he is with it. Then he wasn't wearing it to bed and..." Vox's hands covered the biggest part of his screen, followed by a huff of despair.
"You strike him as the type that takes off his wedding ring to go flirt or something?"
"No! I know he isn't, I wasn't worried about that." Vox said. "I'm worried that I did something wrong, that bothered him and it's beyond saving! And I can't just go up to him and say 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥, cause that apparently makes people even more mad!"
"Vox after seventy years of all your back and forth bullshit, there's nothing beyond saving. And I didn't strike him as the type to be 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 petty, take off his ring whenever he's mad at you."
"That's what I thought too." Vox let out a sigh before he opened his laptop again, the one linked with the presentation screen. "Okay. I wrote down everything I can remember from last days that 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 have angered him."
"When did you find time for that?"
"Last night, while he was sleeping." He said with a shrug. "And I've got 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 of my camera footage to rewatch so I'll add more. Reason one."
The meeting lasted three hours before Velvette decided she had enough.
Alastor was always meticulous. Always.
But now, on day two without his ring, he cannot remember if that statement is true after all.
He doesn't remember if he became meticulous because he married Vox and Vox wasn't, so 𝘩𝘦 had to be instead because 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 or if he was always like that. Meticulous about everything. And he just happened to lose his ring, the golden one with Vox's name engraved inside, the one Vox was rolling his eyes whenever he saw it on the counter, or by their sink while Alastor was working on something. He used to tell him all the time that he'd eventually forget it somewhere and lose it and Alastor would just roll his eyes in return too.
He nudged their vacuum cleaner away again, the second he walked into their place and found it bumping into his leg again.
He had never cleaned his radio tower so thoroughly. After he searched every inch of it, he went by the hotel, simply to get this out of the way too. Like every good (once) host, he'd pass by once a week, simply to see what they're up to. He remembers the last time he went there, four days ago, he remembers having his ring with him when he left, but he prefers to see it with his own eyes than trust his mind.
It was really playing games lately.
The last time he had been to Rosie's was two months ago. He has no reason to, now that all relations between them are gone, apart from passing by with a treat every once in a while.
He decides to trust his mind on that one. Two whole months without his ring is not something he'd casually forget.
So when he finally returns home, after two many hours chatting with the residents for his liking, it's later than expected.
Vox is sitting on the couch, with the TV on while typing something on his phone with his one hand and eating a chicken wing with his other and yet despite the chaos, he still turns when Alastor nudges the vacuum away from his feet.
"Hey." He says, with a smile, gesturing at an unopened paper bag. "I brought food. Your favourite."
But Alastor has had too much tea for a lifetime today and he hates how his stomach is full and he hates how Vox is so careful with him and he hates how he stupidly can't remember anything about his ring and he hates--
"I'm not hungry. You can go ahead and eat."
If Alastor goes another day without finding it or at least remembering anything, he'll go mad, he knows it. After all tomorrow was Thursday, Vox had planned a table for them and he can't avoid it forever.
If he cannot find it until tomorrow, he'd talk to Vox.
That night, before he sleeps, he finds their toothbrushes on different holders, exactly how he had put them that morning, which meant Vox didn't move them again.
Thursday was there and Alastor had officially ran out of places to search.
He had gone through their closets, Vox's office, his library...He moved to the kitchen, hell he even dismantled and put back together whatever smart device was up close, because maybe the ring had slipped inside somewhere.
But it hasn't, and the hours pass by, and Vox is coming home so Alastor is forced to get dressed and wait, because he doesn't plan on going to any restaurant without his ring, or at least without telling Vox about why he'll be ring-less.
It is almost a quarter to five (a whole quarter late to their reservation) when the door to their house opens; Alastor is sitting up close, so he'll see Vox as soon as he comes inside.
He doesn't have the effect on him that he hoped for. Vox just took his blazer off, kicked off his shoes and walked inside, his tired eyes not leaving Alastor for a second.
He only speaks when he has poured himself some water, on their kitchen, and returns.
"Hey."
"Hello."
"You...are going somewhere?" Vox asks, voice little and Alastor resists the urge to respond with sarcasm.
"You had a reservation for us, I believe." He says. "Do I remember wrong?"
He wishes he's not wrong. He doesn't trust his brain that much.
"No..." Vox responds. "But we don't have to go...I mean, if you don't want to."
He's not even joking, or saying it with malice and Alastor hates that more. He can deal with Vox being angry easier than he can deal with Vox not feeling anything.
"I want us to talk."
He decides to speak now before Vox disappears behind their bedroom's door. And fortunately that's enough, because he returns, although tired, and grabs a chair to sit in front of him albeit worried...
"I feel like I know what you want to say." Vox says, but doesn't look like he'll get to do the talking.
"There's...a change that I had to deal with, lately, especially these two last days. I considered solving the problem myself, but since I cannot --and no one else can, apparently-- I decided to let you know."
Vox only nods and looks like a kicked puppy and Alastor doesn't understand why.
Fuck it. He cannot 𝘯𝘰𝘵 have the ring 𝘢𝘯𝘥 not have Vox.
"I am not wearing my wedding ring." He moved his hand, so the empty finger could be visible. Vox doesn't exactly look surprised, which makes him wonder at what point he had noticed.
"And...the reason behind this is that I happened to...have 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 it somewhere." Alastor finally said, with a sigh. "And I cannot remember where."
For a second, Vox is completely silent, simply looking at Alastor and blinking.
The next, his mouth moves.
"So you lost it."
"I didn't exactly lose it--"
"You lost your ring. Our-- our wedding ring."
"Alright." Alastor breathes through his nose and has to stop his antlers before they grow in size out of anger. "I lost it. Satisfied?"
"𝘌𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺!"
This definitely catches Alastor off guard.
"I beg your pardon?"
From all the moments Vox could say his 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 now would be the right moment?
It doesn't look like it. Now that Vox finally opened his mouth, he didn't do it for any other reason than to let out a shaky, wet--
Is he laughing?
"Oh my fucking--" Vox laughs, like he has gone insane and Alastor regrets not waiting another day to tell him. "Of course I'm satisfied! Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Vox, spare me your lecture." Alastor said before starting walking again, to go to their room...
Vox's hand curled around his wrist just the right time.
"It's not a lecture, I'm sorry!"
"What is it, then? You're laughing and...you do understand I lost your golden, lavish ring with your name on it?"
"Uh huh."
"And yet you laugh. Have you lost your mind?"
"Al, I watched 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 of footage. I made Velvette sit through a presentation of all the things I did last week that could've made you mad. I sat through 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 hours of footage. I thought you were tired of this." Vox let out a shaky laugh of relief as he stroked Alastor's wrist with his hands. "And you're telling me that you just lost it? That's...that's nothing!"
"So you had seen me not wearing it. And your first thought was...that I planned leaving you?"
"You weren't speaking much...I tried getting you to open up a bit, to talk..." Vox snorted. "I should've known I married an oyster."
"And still your first thought was that I was done with this and I wanted to leave you. Had you done something for me to leave you?"
"No, but...you told me that you were plotting my murder--"
"Is it the first time?"
"No, but...you removed my toothbrush from your holder--"
"And put it back in its actual place like I do every day."
"Yes, but-- when I tried to get you to talk, you just...snapped. I didn't-- I didn't want to make you mad. I just wanted to make it easier for you to open up. I thought that if I'd get us some food or do your hair for you you'd realize I don't wanna judge. And--"
"And I snapped." Alastor let out a shaky laugh. "Apart from an oyster, I must be a terrible husband."
"No, that's not what I said--"
"I know." Alastor said and it's enough to make Vox shut up. "I never exactly hid the fact that physical touch or terms of endearment do not exactly come naturally to me as they come to you. But I never figured that 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 fact could make you doubt--"
"I'm not doubting anything." Vox said, pulling a chair so Alastor can sit, all without leaving his hand. "I know that you wouldn't even share this place with me if you weren't sure about this. I know you don't do things just so you'll please anyone's feelings."
"Hmm...and yet you forget it all the time." Alastor's smile is 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 a real one as he leans in, to be closer to Vox's face. "What shall we do with you? Shall I put on a daily reminder? Let my husband know I do not detest him?"
"No, don't need that." Vox laughed right back, with an embarrassing colour appearing on the screen where his cheeks would be. "Not that I don't want you to tell me more often. I always want you to tell me."
"𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴?"
"Always."
"Then I suppose this wouldn't hurt..."
"Yeah...It wouldn't kill you...reminding me a little bit more often that you want me around..." Vox gninned as Alastor stood up from his chair and moved closer to him. "That you love me...that you're happy with me...that I'm the man of your dreams..."
The laugh that Alastor lets out is addictive. Vox wants it as a ringtone. "Oh, is that so?"
"That's exactly so."
"Alright then Vox..." Alastor said, smoothing with his delicate hands Vox's shoulders. "I am more fond of you than I am of most people..."
"Come on, you can do a little better than that."
"...I want you around--"
"Alright..."
Alastor rolls his eyes, although he stays fixated on Vox's expression. He does not have a camera as a head like him, but he wishes he can memorize the view anyway. "And I love you."
For a second, Vox's smile melts in a puddle. Then his eyes light up, with a tease and Alastor knows what's coming.
"Wow, three? What is it, my birthday?"
Alastor tries (not that hard though) to step back, but Vox's hands have found his back long before and hold him there, in place. "Stop teasing."
"I'm not, sorry! I know how hard it's sometimes for you. I know that those kind of things are not really your thing. I know that you don't operate like that. That our love languages don't exactly 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩." Vox said, rubbing his claws up and down Alastor's shoulder blades. "But 𝘸𝘦 match, so fuck that."
Alastor has never agreed with anything more.
"Fuck that."
The smile Vox's gives him in return covers half of his screen.
"Are we going to that reservation or no?"
Alastor only nods and Vox, as if a dog, stands up from his chair, all too willing.
"Let me wear my shoes."
"And you'll go to a restaurant wearing a wedding ring with someone who does not? Oh dear, what would the papers say?"
"Nothing unless they wanna be fired."
"Then...what would your husband say?"
Vox knows what Alastor wants, they wouldn't be together if he didn't.
His finger feels naked when he removes the ring and leaves it to the nearest table with a soft clank.
"He doesn't have to know." Vox says, with a smirk. "What will 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 husband say?"
Alastor grins, like a cat who is very content with the game and Vox is so lucky they're okay. He still hasn't gotten used to it, being married to him and he won't get used to it any time soon.
Vox wants an eternity with him, for good measure.
"He doesn't have to know either."
Night finds them on their bed, with Vox laying on Alastor's side, holding him still, but not tight. His right hand is being played with, by Alastor's hands and more often than not they stroke his wedding ring, the one he immediately put back on after they returned.
He knows how he feels. He knows.
"Tomorrow I'll go get you another." Vox says, like a swear. "A whole damn drawer so you can lose them all you like."
He can hear Alastor sigh softly above his hearing system.
"I don't want another. I wanted my old one." Alastor says, like a toddler who hasn't realized how the world works. "Solve this for me. Why was it so hard for you to accept I lost it but immediately jumped into the wrong conclusion?"
"I don't know, you never lose anything." Vox shrugged. "You're so careful."
"Do not rub salt in the wound now."
"I don't. I always tell you not to take it off cause you'll lose it, but honestly 𝘐 would lose it if I took it off half as many times as you. I'd lose it in less time."
"It does not matter. One of us lost it and that wasn't you. It was the 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 one."
"I can get you a new one and we can pretend it never happened." Vox offered. "I can delete the whole file from my memory, like it never existed."
"Too bad that I will still remember it."
"We can always share my ring. You wear it the one day, I wear it the next..."
Alastor's face tells him to stop joking.
"Tell you what. When I return tomorrow, we're gonna search the whole house. And I'm gonna go through my camera, see if my head caught anything."
"I suppose." Alastor says and that's enough for now. Vox wishes he can somehow do more, conjure the ring out of pure air, but--
𝘉𝘶𝘮𝘱.
There's something like a shake, as if their bed was striken by something. Vox raises his head, to look around--
𝘉𝘶𝘮𝘱.
"What's--"
"That damn vacuum." Alastor leaned back to the pillow with a tired sigh. Judging by the force, the vacuum was probably repeatedly bumping into the foot of the bed on Vox's side.
He didn't get it. It was brand new. He had installed a digital map of the house, with all the obstacles and all.
Why was it not working?
𝘉𝘶𝘮𝘱.
"Vox, I've got a headache."
"I'm going, I'm going..." Vox, always the knight, took the covers off himself and Alastor watched him as he leaned over, to grab the device with extra attention.
"I don't get it. It's new, it should be working." Vox said, still hunched over the vacuum, with his back turned on Alastor. "Do you think the trash can is full?"
Alastor does not plan on answering that; Vox doesn't wait for an answer after all. There is a soft click, meaning Vox probably opened it up anyway and--
"Holy shit."
"What is it?"
Vox doesn't bother responding. He just rushes to the bathroom, with a bag full of dust and Alastor hears the water of their sink running, then Vox's grunt...
When he returns, he is alone. He has a tower on his hands, so tightly squeezed that it looks like a rug, his hands are freshly cleaned and instead of leaving the towel back and return on the bed, Vox comes with it. He unwraps the towel carefully, so whatever is inside won't fall and Alastor is not really in the mood to hear whatever was wrong with their vacuum.
When he sees something shining inside the towel though, golden and clean, his ears traitorously perk up.
"That's..."
"Yeah..." Vox says, with a smile. "That's your ring."
"How..." Alastor asks, but he doesn't really wait for a response. He just takes the ring back to his hands, like he's holding something delicate and puts it back on his finger, like it never left.
"The vacuum must've sucked it in."
"It was in the kitchen with me, the day I realized I lost it." Alastor says, not even half mad as he thought he'd be. "I did leave it on the counter after all."
"You were there when I left for work." Vox adds, with a guilty smile. "I kissed you and I-- did you throw me a towel?"
"I did."
"Because I think I tried to swoop you up and you gave a fight...we knocked over a bowl, right?"
"So...your little intimate action caused my ring to drop and then your little vacuum swallowed it."
"When you put it like that--"
Alastor coming over, to put his hands on his shoulders made him shut up.
"And then your little hobby of dismantling broken things at the worst hours helped me find it again." Alastor said, with a smirk. "What a good husband I've got."
He says it with the same tone that one would refer to a dog when being called a good boy, but Vox finds himself enjoying it anyway.
It's not every day his husband gets to be so, so nice.
Vox always tries to be productive in the mornings, even if he's not a morning person, and the mornings that he wakes up really early to get on TV are not different. The sun (or hell's equivalent of that anyway) is barely visible on the sky and although Vox can faintly hear sirens going off somewhere far, the sound that wins is that of soft jazz, coming from somewhere closer.
He knows that if he opens his eyes he'll see an empty bed and he tries not to get disheartened, really. Alastor doesn't owe him to stay so Vox can nuzzle against a soft shoulder. He was nice, more often than not, but his husband didn't do things for others out of obligation. Vox would never ask him to.
He goes on with his routine anyway; he stands up, he fixes the bed behind him as best as he can so that Alastor won't find it ugly and he is still yawning by the time he reaches the bathroom, to brush his teeth.
He reaches blindly for the toothbrush on his holder, to grab it, but instead of one, his hand meets two sticks.
Inside his holder, there were both their toothbrushes and Vox knows he's not responsible for that one. He doesn't have to guess who is, after all only two people walk inside that house every day and yet he wants --no, 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴-- to go make sure.
He finds Alastor at the kitchen, sitting at the table, drinking a cup of hot coffee and Vox knows that smile even as he tries to play innocent.
His ring is sitting on his hand proudly, like it never left.
"Well, well, look who decided to join." He says, with a smirk. "Will you be having breakfast here or are you in a hurry?"
Vox grabs his hand, the one with the ring, and kisses it, mindful of the hot cup of coffee. Alastor granted him the pleasure of standing up, even if only to act annoyed but even his act fell back when Vox grabbed him by the shirt next, to give him another kiss, that time on the lips.
A hand pushed his screen and his mouth back after exactly five seconds.
"Not with the morning breath, Vox." Alastor is back to acting annoyed, with a smile traitorously cutting his face in half, while Vox is laughing right underneath his hand, careful, intimate and so, so lovestruck.
Alastor was always meticulous. Always.
He was meticulous about loving Vox too, in his own, weird way and sometimes in Vox's way too.
Their respective shows are both delayed by exactly an hour that day, not that anyone would notice and link the delays together.
No one watches both.