Work Text:
Vox strolled into the penthouse at the top of the A/V Tower, “Honey, I’m Hoo-OOOOOOOOHHHHHMYGOD!” He stopped in his tracks, nearly tripping over his feet once he saw what Alastor had in the kitchen.
The Radio Demon smiled. He was standing beside the kitchen island, holding a meat cleaver, which was covered in blood. Just like the countertop…and his clothes…and the dead sinner who was currently being butchered.
“Alastor. I—you…why?”
“Oh don’t worry, I put down a butcher block!” Alastor lifted up the block to show Vox, resulting in a fresh waterfall of blood dripping onto the tiled floor.
Vox tried not to show his disgust, “Why are you doing this on the same counter that I make my food on?”
“I do this all the time!”
“You WHAT?! How come I’ve never seen you do this?”
“You’re home early today.” Alastor shrugged as he brought down the cleaver, taking off the right hand of the sinner with one chop.
Vox flinched, “I’m home at my normal time. I always get home at 5 on fridays.”
“Today is saturday. You didn’t come home last night.” Alastor brought the cleaver down again.
“Oh…are you mad?”
“No, it’s not like it’s new behavior for you.” Alastor dropped some meat chunks into a bowl, “Go wash your hands and come help me with this.”
“I’m not eating sinner meat.”
“Who’s asking? Just come here and help me pack everything to go in the freezer.”
Vox tossed his jacket over the nearby couch, and rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands.
Alastor looked over his shoulder as Vox approached the sink, “What kept you so busy that you didn’t even realize you had worked through the night?”
“The new V-watch drops next week, and no one in the marketing department is coming up with anything good enough to showcase just how new and improved it is!” Vox aggressively pumped soap into his hand, “So, I, the damn CEO of the entire company had to sit there and come up with ideas myself!”
Alastor looked at the puddle of pink soap that was rapidly growing on Vox’s palm, “That’s enough soap, Vox. What’s so different about your new watches?”
“It has a slightly better screen!”
Alastor set the cleaver down, “Slightly better?”
“Explaining it would require using a bunch of words you don’t understand, but the display is just barely better.”
“So what’s actually new about it to advertise?” Alastor grabbed a bowl from a cabinet and clunked it on an area of blood-free countertop, “Sounds like the exact same thing to me.”
“It’s all about buzzwords, Al! You did advertising on your radio show when you were alive, didn’t you?”
“Of course! Craven 'A' Cigarettes, a cleaner smoke for a classy lady!” Alastor rattled off the advertisement like it was second nature as he tossed ingredients into the bowl
“Right! See? Cleaner and classy! I need something like that to sell this watch!” Vox sat down on one of the barstools, embroidered with their logo of an entwined A and V.
Alastor grabbed a cutting board and a knife and began to chop up some vegetables, “So why would people want to buy the new watch when their old ones aren’t much different?”
“That’s just it, no one was buying the V-Watch in the first place.”
“...it does look rather silly…”
“Alastor…!” Vox whined
“It looks like a tiny tv strapped to someone’s wrist! I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that thing.” Alastor whisked around the kitchen as Vox began to draw patterns with his finger in the spilled blood, “I just don’t see the appeal of it, and it looks like your customers agree with me.”
“Even with my hypnotism they won’t buy it!” Vox pounded a fist on the counter, sending splatters of blood into the air.
Alastor stirred a pot he had put on the stove at some point, “So then don’t make another one.”
Vox’s screen fogged up as he sighed, “I’ve been teasing the new watch for months, I can’t just cancel it!”
“Well how big is the ‘hype’?” The new slang felt foreign in Alastor’s mouth, sitting heavy on his tongue like Vox’s…Like a rock. Yes, a rock.
“Not any bigger than usual. Just common speculation on social media, comments under the videos uploaded to VoxTube, stuff like that.” Vox sighed, “I’m losing my touch.”
“No you’re not.” Alastor began to dish up whatever he had started to make, “You’re just looking in the wrong places.” He placed the bowl of hot jambalaya in front of Vox, then stuck a fork in the bowl for him.
Vox looked dismayed at the bowl, “See? You make something good every single time you cook. It’s always the perfect blend of ingredients. That’s what I need. I need to find my jambalaya…my gumbo…my pastry looking thing you made that one time.”
“Beignets?”
“Yes! How do you make it?”
“I just follow the recipe, like I do every single time.”
“Right. Your family recipes.”
“Not entirely.” Alastor went back to butchering the sinner that had been left on the counter the entire conversation, “I added my own personal tastes to them, like my mother did, and her mother before her, and her mother before her—”
“Wait, I thought your mother came up with all of your recipes?”
“Heavens, no! She was a talented chef, but nearly every recipe I know is much older than I am.” Alastor’s smile grew slightly.
Vox got that far away look he always did when he was coming up with a new idea. His gaze drifted to the bar stool next to him. He grabbed the seat and set it spinning, watching as the logo blurred into a circle. “You take something older, and make something new out of it. Something older than you are…” A loading bar appeared above Vox’s eyes. Alastor took half a step back, preparing for the idea explosion. Vox’s eyes slowly drifted to his partner, “You’re old.”
“...Thanks, Vox.” Alastor blinked, somewhat offended, but not enough to actually care about the jab.
The loading bar filled, and became a lightbulb, “OLD! CLASSY!” Vox jumped up, sending the stool he was on crashing to the ground. He rounded the island, digging in a drawer for the paper and pens he kept in the kitchen. There was some kept in every room of the house. He slapped it down on the countertop, dangerously close to a puddle of blood, “There’s an entire untapped market in Hell! You said you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing the watch! Why?”
Alastor tried to peek over Vox’s shoulder, “It’s too modern for my personal tastes. It would clash with my clothes.”
Vox grabbed Alastor, dipped him, kissed him, and then stood him back up as if nothing had happened, returning to the design he was drafting up, “It’s too modern! I need to make something new out of something that came before me! There is a whole untapped market of people like you who won’t wear modern tech that they think makes them look silly! But if I make something like this—” Vox presented Alastor with the draft, which was only a little bit soaked with blood in the corners, “People like you would be more open to buying it! It’s the cleaner smoke for the classy lady!”
Alastor looked at the draft. He had to admit, it was much better than the literal tiny television on a strap it was before. This new watch, helpfully labeled the ‘V-Watch: Classic edition’, closely resembled the watches Alastor was familiar with. Leather strap, round screen, with a cover that functioned just as a clock so the screen could be hidden away. Alastor tilted his head, “Work on a pocket watch as well. Before the Great War, wrist watches were considered feminine.”
“Oh, Alastor, I am so in love with you right now!” Vox kissed him again, this time with a bit of tongue, and snatched the drawing, “I’ll be back!” he practically fled from the penthouse, grabbing his jacket on the way, “Keep my dinner hot please!”
Alastor watched Vox go, knowing that this new design would keep him away for possibly days at a time. Once the product launched, he would get his partner back. He grabbed the untouched bowl of jambalaya and coerced it with foil to stick in the fridge.
Alastor grabbed the cleaver again, and continued his work.