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The Contract	By : Turkaholic Category: -Misc Cartoons > Slash - Male/Male Views: 262 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss. I do not make any money from this story

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Chapter 14
Vox peered around the slightly ajar office door, scanning the chaos inside. Half of the bulbs had smashed in the Television Demon's fury, glass still strewn across the tiled floor. A broken leather chair was splintered and fractured against the near wall, and several of the screens on the rear wall were shattered. But there was no sign of red; no tall pompous freak standing neatly in the centre of the room. Just a desk, a chair, and a floor full of glittering glass and scattered paper.
Vox frowned, torn between relief and a reluctant, half-acknowledged twinge of disappointment. He stepped into the office and leaned on the desk tiredly.
Had Alastor really been here at all? Or was it just the beginnings of a full-blown breakdown? He had been working late nights this week, and it wouldn't surprise him in the fucking least if he'd started suffering stress-induced hallucinations. That would really put the perfect polish on this dung heap of a week. Seeing Alastor everywhere he went… perfect.
"Ok Vox... get your shit together. You are fucking losing it."
There was a shift of warm air behind him; a crunch of broken glass and the door snapped shut. He spun on the spot.
A red-tipped hand was splayed against the door, the Radio Demon standing in the space just between the doorway and the wall.
"On the contrary, Vox." came the redhead's radio-masked voice. "I think you'll find you 'lost it' quite a while ago."
Vox stood, dumbstruck for a moment as he took in that Alastor was, in fact, here. He'd clearly been waiting behind the door, out of view, for Vox to enter. The Television Demon let out a bitter laugh and glared. "Oh, and now he appears."
Alastor let go of the door and stood in the half-light silently as Vox rounded the desk and threw himself into the thankfully still standing executive chair, keeping his eyes levelled on the Radio Demon. Alastor's empty hand slid across his own chest and wrapped around his opposite arm, the fingers digging in to the smooth lines of the suit.
"What the fuck do you want, Alastor?" snapped Vox. Alastor's fingers clenched tighter around his arm and he stepped away from the wall, walking slowly through the intermittent shadows under the broken lights. His boots made soft crunching sounds over the shards of glass, accompanied by the gentle click of the cane against the tiles. He took a theatrical look around the room.
"I'm glad to see you've redecorated." He said airily, as though he hadn't heard Vox speak. "How charming. This is so much more you."
Vox slowly rotated the chair as the Radio Demon made a wide circle around the room. He knew that in this room at least, Alastor was now no threat, but turning his back still seemed like a bad idea. On the other hand, if the prick had wanted him dead, he could have simply come into the outer office to do so. What was going on?
"OK, forget why… How? How in Hell did you get past security?"
The Radio Demon stopped near the rear wall full of cracked screens and slowly tilted his head to look witheringly over his shoulder.
"My dear Vox, do you really think that I haven't always been able to get in here whenever I wanted? Still so slow…"
Vox opened his mouth silently, trying to wrestle with several different thoughts at once. Alastor had always been able to get in here? All the years they were fighting, all the death threats… and this sadistic fuck had had free access to the tower the whole time? Why hadn't he, then? Why in hell was Vox still breathing?
And now, the Television Demon was noticing something else: Alastor was directly under a still working light now, and Vox could finally see his face plainly. He looked… tired. Despite the sneer and the narrowed eyes, the expression looked somehow less polished. And his voice… not the normal, fast and sharp pronunciation, but slower, a little hoarser. His physicality seemed indefinably off, too. Vox had spent long enough watching him over the past few months to know that pompous swagger inside out.
His expression threatened to soften, but he wrenched it back up into a snarl and leaned forwards, chair creaking.
"Look, I don't know what mindfuck psycho bullshit you're trying to play, you red freak," he growled. Alastor's eyes narrowed even further. "But just because you can stand in this office without me ripping that stupid fucking smile off your face doesn't mean I want to see it!" Using all his willpower, he turned his back on the stationary Radio Demon and steepled his fingers on the desk in front of him, glowering over them. "...Get out."
By the rear wall, Alastor turned away and stared at his reflection in one of the broken screens. The yellow smile glinted back at him, broken into two by the crack running down the centre of the glass. He saw it drop a little, the teeth clenching tighter together for a moment before he fixed his expression, setting it determinedly into a sinister, casual grin. He forced himself to let go of his forearm and turned back to the office at large, and the blue glowing desk under the light of Vox's face.
Alastor pulled himself up to his full height and strolled back across the wrecked room slowly. He took a deep breath, and forced the words up his throat.
"Well then… I suppose you're not interested in a repeat performance." He said lightly.
Every muscle in Vox's body froze. The sentence rang in his head like a bell. For the briefest of moments, the screen on his face filled with static.
"...What?" he said blankly.
Vox felt the chair moving under him. His eyes widened in disbelief as a slow, irresistible force turned him away from the desk, back towards the rear wall. Vox blinked down and spotted the red microphone pressing into the side of the chair. His eyes finally locked with Alastor's, barely a few inches away. The Radio Demon was grinning dangerously.
"Let me put it this way, my dear Vox… I was expecting to be happily ripping your soul to shreds by now. Imagine my immense disappointment when I realised you hadn't broken our agreement yet."
Vox's focus was flickering from red eye to red eye, his mouth half open in disbelief as he tried to discern some trap or trick; some twisted joke flickering behind the Radio Demon's eyes. Despite the unnerving grin though, all Vox could see was that lurking tiredness. His eyebrow was twitching, and there was a faint smear of blood lingering on Alastor's forehead. Vox leaned in closer with a glare.
"Let me get this straight… now you want me to fuck you?" He growled incredulously. Alastor's grin slipped momentarily into an irritated, slightly uncomfortable grimace.
"I'm simply suggesting that perhaps I need to be a little more persuasive." Replied the Radio Demon, his voice still uncharacteristically hoarse. "I've already planned the renovations for this office. It would be a shame to shelve those plans, especially since you've already so sweetly begun the demolition work for me."
Vox could feel the warmth from Alastor's face, so tauntingly close to his own. His head was spinning. For the past week, he'd been trying to get this bastard out of his head; force himself to accept that what had happened had been one time only, hadn't changed anything, and yet here was Alastor… actually suggesting – as far as he could tell, as sincerely as this creepy fuck ever got – that they do it again. And there was something about the facial expression that didn't match the words – the ears were a little lopsided, like a distressed animal. Vox was too baffled to examine that expression in great detail right now. He was trying to concentrate on maintaining a glare.
"OK, first of all – you are never getting your shitty hands on my business." He hissed lowly, "And second –" Vox leaned in closer, "what if I'm not interested in your stupid triangular deer-ass right now, huh? You ever think of that? Oh but of course you didn't, you egocentricASSHOLE!"
Alastor felt a sudden shock of panic resurge in his chest again; the same feeling he had been trying to subdue since the alleyway, but this time swallowed it back. Having a moment of weakness in an abandoned alleyway was one thing, but allowing Vox to see it was a truly deplorable thought. Something must have slipped past the mask though, as Vox's glare had mingled with confusion as they stared into each other. Alastor backed off suddenly, suddenly all too aware that the Television Demon was scrutinizing him closely. He straightened his lapel, snapped his cane neatly back up into his hand and turned his eyes towards it with a brief clearing of his throat.
"Perfectly fine by me." He said coolly. "I suppose I'll just have to wait a little longer for you to inevitably open your flat mouth. Good day, my man."
Vox blinked, the anger ebbing from his face as Alastor backed away, taking the warmth with him. He watched as the Radio Demon placed the cane firmly on the floor between his feet. He felt a sudden wave of urgency as he saw the shadows begin to coalesce around the red-tipped boots.
Alastor took a moment, deciding where to go. He couldn't bring this feeling back to the hotel, or to Rosie, but it had been ridiculous to come here. What had possessed him to give in to that nagging thought? It hadn't even really been a conscious decision. If he wasn't so preoccupied, he'd be annoyed.
As the shadows began to close in around him and he concentrated on a street in the Doomsday District, there was the sudden creak of a chair.
"Wait."
The dark swirls of energy evaporated into air as Vox's voice cut through the stillness. Alastor looked up from his cane and back towards the Television Demon sitting in the chair.
Vox's eye was twitching repeatedly. Clearly some furious debate was taking place inside his head. He'd sat forwards again, eyeing the side of Alastor's face.
The briefest moment passed in silence. Then, Vox's face darkened. He snorted in anger.
"Oh fuck you."
A blue fingered hand snatched through the air and wrapped itself around Alastor's wrist. The Radio Demon tensed, bearing his teeth at the sudden uninvited contact. Vox leaned back again, using his body weight to pull the redhead towards him. Taken off guard, Alastor practically skidded across the glass-strewn floor.
Vox used a leg to nudge his knees apart, pulling him frustratedly onto his lap.
- 14
- 15
- 16
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The Contract