Chapter Text
Vox sprawled across the leather sofa in the Vee’s tower penthouse, his long legs dangling over the armrest and his screen-face glowing with self-satisfaction.
His cyan teeth flashed in a pixelated smirk as he flicked through channels on five different hovering monitors.
The ratings graph in the corner ticked upward like a heart monitor on speed.
"Would you look at that viewership spike?" Vox gestured broadly at the screens, his voice tinged with digital pride. "That's the sound of the Radio Demon's audience finally tuning in to better programming."
Valentino lounged in the doorway, a tumbler of something electric blue and bubbling held delicately between two of his four hands.
The moth demon’s gold-rimmed heart glasses slid down his nose as he surveyed Vox's sprawling celebration.
"Papito, you've been obsessed with that antlered antique for decades," Val drawled. "The only thing sadder than how you watch those screens is how much real estate Alastor takes up in your hard drive."
Vox's screen flickered before returning to his smug expression. "Fuck you, my machines know how to do more than just vibrate." He sat up, straightening the bowtie that hung beneath his screen. "Besides, the old-timer's been dodging me for too long. One of these days—"
Vox was mid-monologue when his phone vibrated sharply in his pocket.
Not just any call—the display showed 'Lucifer.'
"Is that—" Val began.
"The big boss himself," Vox nodded, his phone screen flashing a fiery icon. He answered, forcing a casual tone. "Vox here," he said smoothly, "to what do I owe the pleasure, Your Majesty?"
A breathless chuckle came from the other end, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a grunt.
"Box! Just the demon I want to talk to," Lucifer's voice was strained, punctuated by a heavy thud in the background. "I have a... situation that requires your particular…ah!…that I thought you might like to help me with."
Vox straightened up at once.
Valentino raised an eyebrow, sliding closer to blatantly eavesdrop.
"I'm at your service, sir, of course," Vox replied, his audio suddenly crisp and attentive. His face screen briefly flashed a loading symbol. "What can I do for the King of Hell?"
There was another thud from the other end, followed by what sounded like splintering wood.
Then a low, crackling static filled the line.
Radio feedback morphing into a positively predator purr.
"It's Alastor," Lucifer said, his voice dropping to a hurried whisper. "He's in a…state. Annual thing. Normally I'd handle it, but I've got that emergency meeting in Lust tomorrow and I can't show up looking like I've been—FUCK!
Vox's screen pixelated in confusion.
Valentino, however, simply smirked behind his drink. “Claro que sí…lo atrapaste en plena temporada.”
"Sorry," Lucifer continued, breathing heavily. "He's a bit…enthusiastic. Listen, I need someone to sub in for me tonight. Someone who can handle themselves. Someone…durable."
A rumbling growl crackled through the phone's speaker, followed by the distinct sound of fabric tearing.
Vox's screen brightened.
"You want me to take care of the Radio Demon for you?" Vox clarified, his voice practically vibrating with poorly concealed glee. "While he's in a…state?"
"Yes, exactly," Lucifer rushed, followed by a muffled sound of struggle. “But you should know he's not quite himself. Not entirely verbal. Bit more…primal. You might want to…prepare yourself before—”
“Does this thing have video?” Valentino demanded, snatching Vox’s phone from his hand. “I would pay to see what they’re doing right now.”
“Shut the fuck up, will you!” Vox batted him away, cradling the phone closer to his screen.
"Before what, sire?" Vox pressed, hungry for details.
Instead of Lucifer's answer, the line filled with a low, distorted radio frequency hum that made the lights in the penthouse flicker.
Then came a voice, barely recognizable as Alastor's usual cheery tone, now pitched down several octaves and fragmented by static.
"M̶̧̖̕i̶͖̎n̴̨̓e̷̤͐.̶̣̆"
The word sent an electric shiver straight through Vox's circuits.
"Hello? Lu—Your Majesty??" Vox called into the phone, but all he heard was rustling, a yelp, and then what sounded unmistakably like a snap…followed by a throaty moan.
Vox's face buffered for three solid seconds before his smirk returned, wider than before.
"I'll take that as my cue. I'll be over tonight."
He received only a strangled affirmative noise in response before the line went dead with a final, spine-tingling growl.
Vox tossed his phone carelessly over his shoulder, sprawling smugly back across the leather sofa.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, turning to Valentino, who was sipping his drink with raised eyebrows. "Looks like I've finally got my date with the Radio Demon."
"Sounded like quite the show he old man was putting on," Val huffed, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper hand swirled his drink. "Are you sure you really want to be helping the King with his ‘deer’ little problem?"
Vox stood, straightening his suit jacket with a flourish. His antennae twitched with anticipation.
"The King of Hell himself has requested my services. And I can handle whatever sort of state the creepy cryptid is in."
Valentino tilted his head, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. "You realize he's in rut, right?"
"In what now?" Vox paused, hand midway through adjusting his bowtie.
"Rut," Valentino repeated, emphasizing the word like he was explaining a simple concept to a particularly dense child. "It's like a mating season. Some demons get it, especially the ones with animal aspects. It's not gonna be—"
"Oh please, I can handle anything Alastor throws at me," Vox waved dismissively, cutting Val off. "I've been waiting years for a shot at the old man. Besides, he's such a little dandy. How bad can it be?”
“Tan malo que vas a necesitar terapia…y repuestos.”
“ This is perfect!” Vox blustered on, checking his reflection in a darkened screen. “He's all hot and bothered, and I get to be the one who takes advantage of it. I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.”
Valentino burst into laughter, the kind that said he knew something Vox didn't. He pulled out his phone and started typing.
"I'm texting Velvette. She's gonna want pictures of whatever's left of you tomorrow."
"I've got this," Vox replied, his screen momentarily displaying a digital eye roll. " The Radio Demon might be powerful, but I've never known him to be particularly…physical."
Valentino's laughter only grew more pronounced.
"Sweet circuits, you are clueless." He wiped an imaginary tear from beneath his heart-shaped glasses.
“Oh, Cariño… just ’cause he dresses like Colonel Sanders and talks like he’s hosting Sesame Street in Hell doesn’t mean he’s some blushing virgin.”
Vox's screen flickered with minor interference. "I didn't say that."
"You're gonna end up as his chew toy," Valentino taunted, taking another sip of his drink. "That deer’ll rearrange your guts and whistle a jingle while he’s doing it.”
"I can handle one horny radio host," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers.
A black portal crackling with blue electricity opened in the middle of the room. He straightened his lapels and adjusted his hat, checking his reflection in one of the floating monitors.
"You forgot something," Valentino called, tossing a small bottle across the room.
Vox caught it, examining the label.
EXTRA STRENGTH LUBRICANT—FOR EXTREME SITUATIONS. His screen briefly displayed a question mark before returning to its confident grin.
"Very funny."
"It won't be enough," Valentino smirked. "It’s not an industrial size."
Vox pocketed the bottle anyway, stepping toward the portal.
His body began to break apart into pixels and static, digital distortion rippling through his form.
"Wish me luck," he called, his voice increasingly fragmented by interference. "I'm gonna ride a Radio Demon."
"He's gonna ride you, dumbass." Valentino raised his glass in mock salute.
The portal snapped shut with a crackle of electricity, leaving Valentino alone in the suddenly quiet room.
He pulled out his phone again and took another sip of his drink.
"Hey Velvs," he murmured as he typed, "Clear your schedule for tomorrow."