Save a Shark, Save a Soul

by SpaceRune

Summary:

It's been six months since the Vees have been defeated, and Charlie needs video evidence from the battle that only Vox can provide. With little hope of success, she decides to pay a visit to Vee Tower. When she finds Vox in an abysmal state, she decides to help. Unsurprisingly, the TV man is resistant to any charity, until he finds out that she might be able to help him reunite with his beloved sharks.

There will be angst, fluff, cute sharks, and a bit of romance.

Chapter 1

Niffty hopped to ring what she assumed to be a high-tech, but dilapidated doorbell. “This place needs cleaning. Do you think anyone is here?”

Charlie’s eyes darted from side to side. “I’m not sure. It looks really rundown.”

The bell didn't ring, it crackled — static and snow— and dampened after only a moment. Niffty hopped to ring it again, but the remaining electricity must have been spent on the initial buzz. 

“I guess there's no power.” Charlie placed a pale hand on the heavy door, and much to her surprise, it creaked open. She gave Niffty a grim glance, they exchanged a shrug, then they both proceeded inside Vee Tower. 

“Hello?” Charlie called out, and it echoed through the vastness of the once vibrant and villainous spire. 

“Hello?” Niffty repeated, followed by the pitter patter of her petite feet.

Charlie clutched her bow tie and began to mull over the wisdom of her decision to ask the Vees, or more specifically Vox , for help. She wasn’t afraid of him, especially since he had lost his powers at Alastor’s hand, but encountering him and asking for a favor of all things, would indubitably be awkward at best. They were enemies. In what level of Hell did she think he would do anything for her? The last time she saw him, he had made it unquestionably clear that he hated her and everything she stood for. Yet here she was, snooping through his old headquarters, ready to beg for his assistance.

Her chance of success was abysmal, but he was the only one who had eyes everywhere. His drones and cameras were rolling during the entire clash with Heaven. Somewhere, among countless hours of premium war time footage, was the evidence Charlie so desperately needed. 

“It stinks in here.” Niffty wafted stale air away from her face.

Charlie nodded in agreement. The air was heavy with a sour odor, like trash that had been left in the bin far too long. She wondered if someone had been living there, but perhaps a squatter, rather than one of the Vees. 

“Hello?” she called again, projecting her voice farther down the vacant halls. The silence combined with the stench was beginning to make her worry. The Vees were some of the worst inhabitants of Hell, but never once had she wanted harm to come to them. It was enough that they had gone quiet after their defeat six months ago.

“Maybe we should try to access Vox’s—”

A crisp metal clink cut through the silence. Charlie and Niffty locked eyes.

“It sounded like it came from upstairs. Let’s go!” She hoisted Niffty onto her shoulders and they sprinted for the elevator. Frantically pressing the call button, Charlie remembered the unfortunate lack of electricity. 

“That's right, no power. Now where are the stairs? There have to be stairs, right? For safety and accessibility—” She paused and considered whether to search left or right; she also considered the veracity of the statement she was about to make. “No, I suppose the Vees wouldn’t have really concerned themselves with such—”

“Can I help you?” A familiar voice inquired flatly.

With a gasp, Charlie skidded to a halt. Niffty clung to golden locks to avoid being flung off her shoulders. A dim blue illuminated the door frame at the end of the hallway. The silhouette of the television headed man came into view.

“Vox—” Charlie began, ready to make her request, but her words died on her tongue.

The light from his screen didn't hold its former steady, vibrant blue, instead it was dull with an inconsistent flicker concentrated in the upper left corner— the same spot Alastor had shattered six months ago. Vox’s injury from six months ago had gone untreated. 

“Vox,” she repeated more softly, less demanding, as she took in the sight of him. 

“Why are you here?” A rattle of static plagued his once clear voice. 

“I-” she attempted to ask her favor again, only to find herself gaping at the shabby state of the formerly sharp, and shiny CEO. Perhaps caused by the head injury, his head seemed to slump to one side, but his entire posture was slumped. It was difficult to tell through the low light, but he appeared to be wearing the same clothes since his defeat —torn, stained, sweaty, and ill-fitting.

He cleared his throat — either from impatience or a pallid attempt to shake the static from his voice. It was enough to snap Charlie from her stupor, but instead of asking Vox for what she needed, genuine concern poured from her lips. “Vox, are you ok?”

He let out a pained scoff. “That is not why you came here. If that were why, you would have shown up months ago, offering me a comfy bed at your delusional little hotel.” 

“You’re always welcome at the hotel!” The corners of her lips quivered as she extended him a smile.

“Stop with the sanctimonious nonsense. You came here because you needed something. Now, what is it?” His words were stern, but his voice was not. Not even a shadow of bravado remained.

Vox had been such a charismatic presence, there was something almost frightening about seeing him whittled down to a fraction of his former self. Charlie wanted to encourage him to accept her invitation, but she felt that pushing the issue would only drive him further away. 

“Well, you see,” she tapped her fingers together, and continued with her request, “Vaggie’s been arrested and charged with murdering a high level angel during the battle six months ago. I know she's innocent, but I have no proof! But you do! Your drones recorded the whole thing! If only I had those recordings, I could—”

“Yeah, fine, you can have the recordings. Just leave as soon as you have what you need.” He turned away and started to retreat back into the room he came from. 

“What!? Seriously?” Charlie gasped and Niffty hopped off her shoulders. 

“I said yes, now leave me alone,” he answered without turning back. 

Niffty sprinted towards Vox, but stopped about a foot behind him. “You stink! This whole place stinks! I’m gonna clean everything!” Her eye went wide with crazed excitement, and perhaps because she was suddenly being lifted off the ground.

“You will do no such thing.” Vox dangled her at eye level.

“Vox, no! Put her down!” Charlie demanded.

He narrowed his eyes. One squinted normally, the other refracted through the broken glass. He placed Niffty down and added, “I wasn’t going to hurt her.”

“I know, it’s just—” Charlie sighed, she knew he wasn't going to hurt her. The man before her lacked the spark to do anything, really. She simply didn't want him to drop her. Nothing about this situation was right, though. Vox was in a terrible state, but he would never accept help. It shouldn’t have bothered her, he was a terrible guy. She should have been elated by the fact that he was willing to provide the crucial data she needed to save Vaggie. So, she decided to focus on that instead. “Nevermind, before you go, can you just tell me how I can access the data?” 

“Bottom floor. It'll be in one of the drones.” The door slamming behind him sent the unambiguous message that the conversation was over. 

Niffty straightened her apron and hurried back to Charlie. Together, they wandered off to figure out how to reach the bottom floor — notoriously considered Vox’s secret lair. 

 

***

 

The entrance was easy enough to find, it was just the main elevator, the one with a faded decal of Vox himself on it. Charlie stared at the image for a moment. In it, he was brandishing the biggest, phoniest smile. She couldn't help but feel bad for him. When was the last time his smile was sincere? She shook the feeling off again, reminding herself that Vox was a very bad guy who had no qualms about hypnotizing people and using them however he saw fit. He was not someone she should feel sorry for. 

Opening the unpowered door was a bit harder, but Charlie managed. Being a Nephilim, occasionally had its benefits, and strength was one of them. Niffty darted in the moment the door was pried ajar and nearly fell to her second death, but Charlie was swift to grab her before she plummeted down the shaft. “Be careful!” she admonished, before spanning her wings and gliding them both safely down to the bottom floor.

Vox’s old lair was as broken and lackluster as his own screen had become; it looked like much of it had been deliberately smashed. Maybe Vox himself had done it. As they walked across the long, lonely bridge, Charlie noticed that the giant aquarium was drained of most of its water and the sharks were gone. She didn't know much about Vox’s personal life, but she knew his sharks were dear to him. Where had they gone? It must have been very painful to lose them. 

“Hey Niffty, let’s get the drone and get out of here.”

Niffty nodded as she started sorting through a pile of discarded electronics. 

“And I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone we saw Vox today.”

Niffty gave one solid blink, and Charlie took it as agreement. 

Chapter 2

Summary:

Vox has been avoiding any and all contact with others, but Charlie isn't quite finished with her business at Vee Tower.

Vox couldn't sleep that night. Why did that woman have to show up unannounced and humiliate him? Wasn't it enough that his whole empire had collapsed? Wasn't it enough that Alastor had beaten the shit out of him publicly? What about that he had lost everything dear to him — including his friends, and his precious sharks?

 

The sharks. Losing them hurt the most. He missed Velvette and Valentino terribly too, but they were probably doing well enough. They had a chance to rebuild their lives, without him. He kicked them out for a reason. They were doing better without him, he was sure of it. But the sharks, they had bonded with him. They had been spoiled with the hugest tank and the finest foods, but now—

 

Vox winced as he recalled their desperate faces as they were rehomed to the Pentagram City Aquarium. Every day he worried if they had a large enough tank, if they were fed enough nutritious food, and if someone swam with them the same way he had done. They played no role in Vox’s plan to take over Hell, so they deserved none of the consequences. Worst of all, you couldn't explain to a shark why it was suddenly being transported to a new place. Vox would never forgive himself for rehoming them, but he reasoned that it was the best option. He no longer had the wherewithal to provide them the care they needed.

 

He picked up his phone and glanced at the time. It was 3:42 AM, and the battery was at 19%. Since Vee Tower no longer had power, he personally had to provide juice to any device he wanted to use. Having lost his overlord powers, that wasn’t always easy to do. Using too much power in a short amount of time could leave him exhausted. 

 

He opened a delivery app and placed an order for a cheeseburger and fries. Most delivery drivers knew to just leave the order at the entrance and not to ask any questions. Vox would only fetch the food long after the driver had left. For six months, he had successfully avoided seeing any one else, or being seen by anyone else. That is until that insufferable woman, and her feral little sidekick, had to come along and ruin it. 

 

The cheeseburger was dropped at the doorstep of the tower. Vox powered up a single security camera and watched as the driver rode off. Five minutes later, he went down to fetch his food. Sure, waiting meant the burger wouldn’t be as hot and fresh, but it helped assure that he wouldn’t encounter a single soul. Ever since his humiliating defeat, he found the idea of being looked upon unbearable.

 

The burger wasn't great. The patty was overcooked, the cheese was rubbery, and the bun was soggy. The fries were salty and oily, which was sufficient for Vox’s unsophisticated palette. After washing down the heavy meal with a couple of shots of whisky, he finally passed out around 7 AM.

 

***

 

A cautious but bubbly, “Um…Vox?” startled him from his sleep some hours later.

 

“What the fuck!?” he yelled as he shot up with such force that he fell out of his recliner and straight to the floor. Gasping for breath, he threw his hand over his heart and blinked rapidly as his eyes focused on the shyly waving hand of Lucifer’s daughter. 

 

“Sorry for startling you! Are you ok? Gosh, I shouldn’t have approached you while you were sleeping, I—” 

 

“Leave,” he grumbled, countering the onslaught of chipper words.

 

She extended her arm and offered to help him up. He momentarily thought to slap her hand away, but the short-lived satisfaction that would bring, would quickly be supplanted by a deluge of unwanted consequences. Instead, he turned away.

 

“Look, I'm really sorry. I understand you not wanting to talk with me, or even see me, but I'm having trouble transferring the data from the drone. You don't owe me anything, but this is so important so I have to try,” Charlie pleaded.

 

He turned his head just enough to get a good look at her. In addition to the drone, she had two large shopping bags, one from the pharmacy and one from the electronics store. “What’s with those bags?” he asked.

 

She shifted from side to side, not so subtly avoiding eye contact. “They’re for you!” she confessed after a moment.

 

“So you aren't here for the data then, you’re here to force your delusional, do-gooder nonsense on me. You should have realized from the moment you met me, that I am not someone you can fix.”

 

Ruffling through the bag, she seemingly ignored everything he said. “Oh, where is it,” she mumbled to herself.

 

Vox cleared his throat.

 

“Not this, no, gosh, I bought so much,” she continued.

 

Vox stood, his head throbbing as his blood pressure rose. “Give me the drone. I'll—” wooziness rushed up his spine and he stumbled back into his seat.

 

“Vox!” Charlie dropped the bags and placed her hands on his wrists, “you're not well, please let me help! I brought all kinds of bandages and electrical tape. I'm not really sure how you work, but I'm sure we can figure out how to patch that wound right up.”

 

“I'm just hungover, now for the last time—”

 

“But doesn’t it hurt, walking around with an injury like that?” She evidently had no intention of letting him be. 

 

He leaned in, giving her a closer look at the jagged glass covered with grime. “Of course it fucking hurts! I have an open wound on my head! Imagine the worst migraine ever, constantly for six whole months!” His raised, strained voice echoed in his pounding head.

 

Charlie placed a firm, but gentle hand on his chest and pushed him back. Her scrunched nose made it clear that he smelled bad , just like the maid girl had said. He knew he did, but what was there to do about it? He couldn't shower properly with his head cracked open, revealing the demonic circuitry of his brain. 

 

“Let me help. We can clean it and wrap it, and then I'll leave after you help with the drone. That's all, nothing more.” She released her hand and gave a soft, almost reassuring smile.

 

Sometimes Vox cursed his pride. His head needed repair, there was no question about that, but accepting help from this spoiled, idealistic woman, would be yet another blow to his pride that he wasn't sure he could take. But what did that even mean? What pride was he even mulling over? He glanced around the darkened room, decorated with heaps of greasy pizza boxes, crumpled wrappers, and busted screens. Then he glanced down at himself— sweat stained shirt, torn pants with the button popped. He was the one who was delusional if he thought pride were a word that applied to him anymore. 

 

He hadn’t been able to fix his head without supplies or power, or a second set of hands. He would be a fool not to accept her offer, and yet, he still found it excruciatingly unpalatable to just say yes. As her smile grew while awaiting his answer, he could only force himself to acquiesce by realizing that she would not leave him the fuck alone, if he didn't let her help. So, he finally agreed, and the tiniest part of him felt relieved that he did so. 

 

“Fine. Make it quick, and then get out.”

 

“Yes, sir!” She said cheerfully before launching into the shopping bags.

 

The first items she pulled out were wipes of two varieties: one for soft biological skin, and one for electronics. “Which one is best for your screen?” 

 

He pointed to the electronics wipes, so she put the others away. “I'll leave these ones here too, you can use them for the rest of your body.” 

 

He already knew he was sweaty, and covered in oil and grime, did she really have to point it out? He must have grimaced at the thought, because Charlie suddenly recoiled. 

 

“Oh did I hurt you?” she gasped.

 

“Does being annoyed count as being hurt?” he scoffed.

 

She ignored his ungrateful comment, and instead said, “Well, just let me know if I do. I've never treated a wound on a TV demon before, so I'm not sure how much pressure I can apply, or really what I can do.”

 

Her touch was tender and relieving as she wiped the uninjured part of his face. It was his turn to let out a small gasp as he realized how much he had longed for a caring caress. He stared into her large, heavily lashed eyes as she scrubbed his face clean. She was an undeniably beautiful woman. He had always recognized her beauty — you'd have to be blind not to— but presently, he was sharing an unexpected intimate moment with her. An intimate moment while he was at his lowest — a filthy, broken slob.

 

The thought was almost enough to make him pull away in shame. A sharp pain to the corner of his screen ripped him from his spiral of self-pity.

 

“Ow!” he exclaimed.

 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” she blurted, “this part is the most broken, I'm just trying to clean around the edges. Try not to move too much.”

 

“Yeah…I'll stay still,” he promised.

 

“I can't believe you've been living with this untreated for so long. You should really be kinder to yourself, Vox.”

 

Part of him wanted to thank her, to lean into her compassion and let her magically fix him, and not just his cracked screen, but fix all of whatever was wrong with him. That is what she did, right? Adopted the scumbags and losers of Hell and beat them into a new and improved version of themselves, right? But not Vox. He was an immutable wreck, twisted into a wretch beyond repair, but it was nice to entertain the thought that he too could be rectified.

 

After she finished cleaning the wound—which took quite some time due to months of adhered oil and dust—she reached into the shopping bag again. “Which color?” she asked while dangling blue, black, red, and white electrical tape. 

 

He frowned. She even thought about colors. How frivolous…and annoying…and thoughtful . “It doesn’t really matter—” he began, but an image of Velvette and Valentino flashed in his mind. They would never have considered the choice of color inconsequential. “Blue, I guess. Like my screen.” 

 

“Great choice!” she grinned, “that’s what I was thinking too!”

 

He gazed up as she delicately wrapped the injury. He had never felt smaller than he did at that moment. After all the horrible things he had said and done to her and her friends, she still was willing to lend him a hand. Worse still, there was seemingly no pretense behind it. Vox struggled to imagine that anyone was completely void of self-serving motives, but for the moment, he could let himself pretend that she was.

 

“All done! Now, if you'll just help me with the drone, I'll be out of your hair.” She froze and blinked vacantly, “er, out of your…antennea?”

 

OK, that was almost funny, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of laughing. She had clearly already gotten enough satisfaction from playing savior. See, he knew there was a self-serving motive! This woman was the walking personification of a savior complex! “Give me the drone,” he demanded, making it abundantly clear, he wasn’t giving into her vile do-gooder plans.

 

As she handed it to him, he got a glimpse inside one of the bags she had brought for him. There seemed to be some clothes and some food.

 

“What else is in the bags?” He asked as he started rummaging through a drawer.

 

“Oh lots of stuff!” she sang out, “fresh clean clothes, a healthy home cooked meal, toiletries, painkillers, my phone number, just in case y—”

 

The enormity of her kindness was unendurable. His throat tightened as tears flooded his digital display. His claws snapped around a hard drive, and without looking, he flung it forcefully in her direction.

 

“Hey, watch it! That hurt!” she whimpered.

 

“The port will unlock the drone, then you can transfer the data to the drive.” He kept his back to her. His voice was thin and shaken, but fortunately he did not glitch. That was one of the few benefits of being powerless— glitches were far less common.

 

“Um…thanks?” There was more than a hint of hurt in her tone.

 

“Just go.” He silently prayed to a god that most certainly wasn’t listening, that Charlie didn't hear the restrained sob in his voice.

 

“Vox?” she asked cautiously. She had most definitely heard it. 

 

“Go! Just fucking leave already!” He waited until the sound of the door slamming before melting to the floor in a heap of sobs.

Notes:

Well, I promised fluff and I definitely have not delivered. Maybe if Vox can be reunited with his sharks, that would help... Next chapter the sharks will make their appearance!

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 3

Summary:

Much to Charlie's surprise, Vox reaches out via text.

Notes:

This chapter might as well be called "Chip and Nepo Brat." I hope their text conversation reads well! All capitalization and punctuation errors in the text messages are intentional.

“Vaggie!” Charlie exclaimed with a smile that spread from cheek to blushed cheek, “I miss you so much.” 

 

She placed her hand near the hologram —hovering over, but never touching— so as to never destroy the illusion. 

 

“Charlie,” Vaggie answered. Her voice housed a rare warmth. 

 

Charlie’s eyes locked with the hologram of Vaggie’s eye, and the tears flowed. Vaggie’s tears were silent. Charlie’s were accompanied by ragged sobs. Charlie tried to force composure, but her hands trembled as she lifted the hard drive. “I got the evidence,” she finally said, and a soft smile returned to her lips.

 

“That's amazing, babe!” Vaggie exclaimed, “how’d you do it? I can't imagine the Vees would just give you the data without expecting something in return.”

 

“Actually,” Charlie mulled over how exactly she wanted to explain what had happened, “only Vox was there. I wouldn’t say he gave it to me, but he also didn’t stop me.”

 

Charlie hoped that information would satisfy her girlfriend’s curiosity. She didn't want to lie to her, but she also didn't want to share too much about the state she had found Vox in. There was no need to damage his pride further; there was a reason she had told Niffty not to mention that they had seen him. Charlie especially had no need to divulge that she dressed his wound, and brought him food and clean clothes the second time she saw him. She knew that was something Vaggie would not approve of.

 

Vaggie must have seen the quandary on Charlie’s face, because she crossed her arms and narrowed her eye. “Charlie,” she said reproachfully.

 

Charlie already knew what Vaggie was thinking. “Vaggie—” she attempted to interject.

 

“You didn't invite that flat-faced fuck to the hotel, did you?” Vaggie rubbed her temples.

 

“I maaay have mentioned it, but I didn't push it. I know he doesn’t want to be redeemed.” Even as Charlie spoke these words, she wasn’t entirely sure they were truthful. Something Vox had said had been bothering her, but she couldn’t explain that all now. She wanted to spend the few precious minutes with Vaggie not preoccupied by irksome thoughts of the “flat-faced fuck”. 

 

“Babe, you know I love that you want to see the best in everyone, I really do, but please be careful with people like him.”

 

Charlie nodded. “Don't worry, I'm not gonna see him again. Now that I have the data, I have no reason to go back over there.” She assumed this was a truthful statement. Vox made it clear he wanted her gone, and despite having her number, he had not texted her once. Not even a thank you. If he didn’t want help, she wouldn’t push it on him. 

 

“I know, but don’t even give him another thought. You're doing an amazing job with the hotel. You’ve helped so many souls, and will continue to do so. There will always be some you can’t reach and that's on them, not you.”

 

“Vaggie-” Charlie’s voice cracked as tears sprung from her eyes again, “why are you comforting me? You're the one who’s been arrested. Why are you so perfect?” 

 

“I can see you're stressed, Babe. And I know you're doing everything you can to prove my innocence. I miss you so much, but I'm not scared. You, on the other hand, look like you haven't slept in days.”

 

“Hey—” Charlie feigned offense, but her follow-up was cut off by an angelic guard informing the couple that visiting hours were over. The hologram flickered off, and Charlie found herself alone with far too many thoughts.

 

Before she let any of those thoughts fester, she grabbed a glass of cabernet and a pint of rocky road. She flopped on the couch and tried to force herself to relax, knowing full well that forcing oneself to relax was the entirely wrong way to do so. 

 

“Relax, relax, relax,” she muttered to herself as she chomped into a spoon of ice cream. But between worries for Vaggie, and vexxing concerns about Vox, she couldn't force her mind to quiet.

 

“Bzzzt!” Her phone loudly interrupted her attempt at peace. Normally, she’d leave it on silent, but with Vaggie’s situation, she wanted to be privy to any updates in a timely manner. She placed the pint between her thighs, and reached for the phone.  

 

Unknown contact: Hey

 

Her heart sank. What terrible news could this unknown person be contacting her for?

 

Charlie: Sorry, who is this? I don't have your number saved in my phone. 

 

Unknown contact: oh, right. It's Vox.

 

Her jaw dropped. She didn’t know who she was expecting, but it wasn't Vox. Sure, it made sense since she had given him her number, but she didn't really expect him to reach out. Given the tearful and agitated state she last saw him in, she may have hoped he would, but considered it highly unlikely.  

 

Charlie: Hi Vox!!! I'm happy you texted! How's your head? Feeling better?

 

She really was happy. As silly as it may have been to be worried over the guy who had tried to defame her and destroy the hotel, she found herself relieved. 

 

The typing bubble popped up on the screen. While he typed, Charlie took a sip of wine and another spoon of ice cream, and pondered what she should call him in her contacts. On the off chance someone else saw a notification from him pop up, it was probably best not to save his number as “Vox.” He typed and typed, allowing Charlie to expect a long response, and to decide on the perfect name for his contact. After a few minutes of mulling over nicknames she settled on “Chip.”

 

Chip: It’s better, yeah. I'll eventually have to replace my head entirely but, well, nevermind. Have you heard anything about Valentino or Velvette?

 

Chip. She thought it was a sufficient name. The first word that had come to her mind was “broken,” but she swiftly concluded that a notification from “Broken” would invite unwanted questions. She didn't like to think of anyone as broken anyway, but Vox nearly forced the word into her mind. Not only was his screen broken, he seemed to insinuate that he himself was fundamentally broken. He wasn't broken though, she wouldn't accept that. She refused to accept that! Damaged, dented, quite a bit bent, and chipped. He was most certainly chipped. Chip. That was like a tech thing too, it worked well.

 

Charlie: I'm glad it's feeling better 😁 I'm sure we can figure out a more permanent solution soon! As for Val and Vel, no sorry, I haven't heard news of them. I'll keep my eyes and ears out though!

 

The typing bubble popped up again and bobbled up and down for seconds, minutes, enough time for Charlie to down a few more spoons of rocky road. When a new message finally arrived, it was far shorter than the amount of typing would have indicated.

 

Chip: …we?

 

Charlie: I mean, yeah! If I can help you, I’d be happy to! Did you eat the food I brought you?

 

While she awaited his next text, she couldn't help but replay what he had said the other day.

 

You should have realized from the moment you met me, that I am not someone you can fix.

 

She had always assumed he simply didn't want redemption, but did he mean something different? Did he mean he couldn’t be fixed even if he wanted to be?

 

Chip: Yeah, the veggies were undercooked.

 

The typing notification appeared again. He had more to say.

 

Chip: but it was nice to have something homecooked.

 

Charlie smiled, about to express her excitement, only to see that he still had more to say.

 

Typing…

 

Typing…

 

Typing…

 

Chip: It wasn't very good though. 

 

How rude! Charlie’s smile vanished and she tossed back some more wine. She clacked away as she attempted to conjure her own sassy response.

 

Charlie: Well, you only think that because you've been eating nothing but junk for months! 

 

She grabbed the wine bottle and poured a second glass. Before she could take another sip, she reconsidered her response. Was it too snappy? He wasn’t typing anything in return. Perhaps she should add an emoji to show she was still being playful and friendly. It was incredible she got this much communication from him, she didn't want to risk scaring him off.

 

Charlie: 😝

 

As soon as she sent the emoji, she regretted it. “Oh no, that was cringe!” she lamented aloud with a slap to her forehead. But the return of the typing bubble made her feel slightly at ease. And like before, his typing went on for an unexpected amount of time.

 

Chip: You brought a lot of stuff for me. That was…thoughtful, but…did anyone see you packing all of that? No one else knows about me…right?

 

The next text came at an astonishing pace.

 

Chip: ESPECIALLY NOT ALASTOR.

 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that last text. Vox really still struggled with his falling out with Alastor, even after all this time. Her laugh died down, maybe it wasn't that funny, but actually a bit sad. Vox really struggled with relationships, in general, didn't he? She decided to reassure him, at least about the Alastor part.

 

Charlie: I promise Alastor does not know, and he will not know. I even told Niffty to keep quiet about you.  

 

Chip: So no one else knows? Not a single soul? 

 

Charlie: well…

 

Chip: who did you tell and why

 

Charlie: I didn’t want to tell anyone, but Vaggie was curious about how I got the data. I mentioned you, but only briefly, no specifics! She won’t tell anyone!

 

Chip: you should have made something up

 

Charlie: I'm not gonna lie to my girlfriend! 😡

 

It was probably a good ten minutes before he responded. Each time she glanced at the phone, it indicated that he was typing furiously. Since none of his answers had been terribly long, she was beginning to think that he was incredibly indecisive with what he wanted to say. At long last, her phone buzzed again.

 

Chip: Whatever. Just don't tell anyone else.

 

Perhaps it was the wine, but Charlie responded a bit more candidly than perhaps was advisable with someone as mercurial as Vox.

 

Charlie: I saw you typing like crazy for like ten minutes, all just to say that? You know you can just tell me what you're thinking.  

 

***

 

Vox had been curled up like a shrimp in his recliner throughout his entire text conversation with the Princess of Hell. At least he didn't smell like a shrimp anymore. With his head wrapped up, he was able to safely bathe. The first shower in over six months was easily the best shower of his afterlife. Yes, even better than those showers with Valentino.

 

And he was finally in fresh, clean clothes. Not only were his old clothes torn and stained, they barely fit any more. He hated to admit it to himself, but six months of junk food and sulking had not been great for his physique. Not that it really mattered any more, he was hidden from the world so who cared what he looked like. Still, if the princess stopped by some more, it would be nice to work towards being in shape again. 

 

But at the moment he didn’t exactly welcome her return.

 

“That bitch!” he exclaimed at her most recent text.

 

Nepo Brat: I saw you typing like crazy for like ten minutes, all just to say that? You know you can just tell me what you're thinking.  

 

How was he supposed to respond to a text like that? He couldn’t, he could not just tell her what he was thinking. Foolish words like thank you and sorry could not just be thrown around over text. Thank you made his stomach hurt just to think of, and sorry nearly brought him to retching. 

 

Another text came through. With a grimace, he opened the phone to see what new awful thing she had said.

 

Nepo Brat: I'm just teasing 😉 Anyway, this wine is making me sleepy and I've got a big day tomorrow. We started doing monthly field trips and tomorrow’s the aquarium! I can't wait! 

 

Nepo Brat: But seriously, I meant what I said, don't hesitate to reach out. Even if you just want to chat. Night 😴

 

She was going to the aquarium. He unfurled from shrimp mode and sat up wide-eyed and eager. He could ask her to check on his sharks! There was zero second-guessing before sending his next message.

 

Vox: WAIT DON’T SLEEP YET. I HAVE A FAVOR TO ASK 🦈

Notes:

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed <3

Next chapter will involve many more Vox/Charlie interactions!