Archive of Our Own ^beta

Vox had never been a fan of Christmas. He looked forward to the extra money rolling in, but everything that led up to it felt like such a trite chore. He hated making stupid holiday themed commercials, he hated having to dig all the Christmas film strips out of the warehouse to rerun the same old movies over and over. Worst of all was the music. It was inescapable, playing on the speakers of every store, every lobby, every radio station. 

Vox cared so little about the holiday that when December began, he barely even noticed. He was more invested in the phone call that Alastor had given him that day, asking him to come over later that afternoon. There had been a giddiness in his voice that he didn’t let slip out often, and that was enough for Vox to ditch work for the afternoon with absolutely no notice. 

He loved Alastor more than anything, even television, even money. Ever since they’d repaired their relationship and confessed their love for each other, their relationship was one of overwhelming happiness and peace. The two carefully controlled their mediums to conflict with each other as little as possible, minimizing competition and maximizing the amount of time they spent with each other. Their romance was so perfect that neither of them even bothered to classify it as such to the public. In Vox’s eyes, what was there was plain to see. Even his employees often referred to him as lovesick. That’s exactly the retort he’d gotten from one of his producers after he told him why today’s filming would have to wait. 

“I’m not sure what to tell ya, Rich!” He replied with a chuckle. “You’d feel the same way if you were dating the hottest overlord in Hell!” 

Rich grumbled on the other end of Vox’s face call.

“I wish you two never made up…”

“And I wish you hadn’t said that, because with the amount of drugs in your system I’d rather not have to feed you to Sweetiepie. But I’m sure her stomach can handle it, she’s tough.”

“NO SIR, PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT THE SHARKS!!!”

“This has been a nice chat, but I’ve got a date with a charming deer and his delicious cooking. Try not to wear your watch tomorrow, the metal’s not good for their teeth.” 

Vox ended the call with a chuckle and started up his car. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but when the radio turned on he found that his favorite rock n’ roll station was playing Christmas music. He was surprised to see that even in Hell it was inescapable, but he was more surprised to hear the voice that was singing it. 

“I’ll have a blue Christmas without you…”

“Holy shit… is that FUCKING ELVIS?!!”

“I’ll be so blue just thinking about you…”

“Oh my god. It’s fucking Elvis.” 

It wasn’t rare for the living world’s media to trickle down to Hell, it was actually rather common. But it usually took a while, and this song had to be new because Vox definitely would’ve known about it if it wasn’t. As it played while he drove to Alastor’s house, he couldn’t help but fall in love with it. Something about the slow melody, Elvis’s crooning voice… it evoked a deep sense of peace in him. He didn’t even need to pay attention to the lyrics, he just hummed along and reveled in the happiness he’d found, a serene afterlife of fame and fortune with the man of his dreams.

Vox continued to hum the song as he walked up the front porch and knocked on the door. 

“Al? You in there, hun?”

An inexplicable jingling came from inside, then Alastor’s chipper voice shouted back. 

“Just a moment!”

Alastor opened the door moments later, slightly out of breath and covered in fur. 

“I was just carrying my taxidermy reindeer upstairs.” 

Vox blinked a couple times, then remembered who he was talking to. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right. This a new kill or something?” 

Alastor shook his head with a smile even bigger than usual. 

“No, I bring it out every year!”

“Every year?”

Vox stepped inside and immediately understood what he meant. It took a moment to process it all. Usually Alastor’s house never changed, so seeing the mantle, staircase and dining table decorated with evergreens and berries was a surprise. Candles had been lit in all the windows, and the whole house smelled amazing, like freshly cut pine. Vox instantly traced the smell to the giant fucking pine tree in the corner of the living room. 

“What is that?” He asked, though he already knew the answer. 

“A Christmas tree,” Alastor answered, fluffing out the branches. “Did you not celebrate?” 

“No, I did, just against my will.” 

Alastor scoffed, amused. 

“Always so dramatic.” 

“Come on, I didn’t think you’d be the type to buy into this shit! Christmas is just an excuse to drain money out of sentimental idiots so they can prove how much they love their family members by giving them stupid junk they don’t even want.” 

Alastor didn’t reply immediately, the sound of branches rustling filled the empty space until he did. 

“To some, maybe.” 

His voice had that soft pensive tone to it that always left Vox curious. Something about it made him change the subject.

“Did you chop that down yourself?”

“Of course I did! Always have.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to go to a farm where they do it for you?”

“When you’re lazy and have money to burn, I suppose. There are plenty of perfectly good trees outside you can take for free.” 

Vox laughed.

“Alastor, that’s not how that works! It’s not legal to just chop down random trees!” 

“Chopping down trees was the tamest of my crimes.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

Alastor opened the kitchen closet and pulled out a huge red trunk, then carried it over and carefully placed it down on the carpet. 

“Would you like to help me decorate?” 

“Uhhh, if you want me to,” Vox said, a little taken aback. He’d never decorated a Christmas tree before, when he was a child he wasn’t allowed to touch the ornaments and when he was an adult he’d never wanted to. But he could never say no to Alastor, especially when he had that look in his eyes that confirmed his smile was genuine. 

Alastor flicked the latch open and lifted the lid to reveal a huge collection of dusty ornaments. Some were glass, and many of those had cracked and been shoddily patched with glue. But a large majority of them were handmade, paper lanterns and strings of cranberries and little whittled wooden reindeer with toothy smiles. He even had bones with wires attached for hanging. 

“These are what you decorate for Christmas with?!” Vox asked as he reluctantly pulled out a coyote skull with a dirty Santa hat glued to it. “Are you sure you didn’t get your Halloween decorations mixed up?” 

“Oh, be serious! there’s nothing cheerier than a good forest carcass.” 

Vox didn’t exactly agree, but he was used to Alastor’s weird morbid comments by now. Instead of a horrified look, they now got a giggle out of him. 

“I think only you and a maggot would agree on that.” 

Vox reached for the least disgusting ornament in the box and carefully hung it on one of the branches. 

“Can’t you just snap your fingers and do all of this with magic?” 

“Well yes, but that sort of takes all of the fun out of it, my dear.” 

“You find getting poked by pine needles fun?” 

“Yes, actually!”

“I don’t even know why I asked.” 

Vox reached back into the trunk and grabbed one of the glass balls by its hanger, only for the bottom to fall off. 

“Shit, I think I broke one. Or was it already broken?” 

“Ah, no worries. Just hang it up as is.” 

“As is?! Just a hunk of broken glass?!”

“It still works.” 

“Alastor, I think we gotta go buy you some new ornaments,” Vox chuckled. “This is insane.” 

“Did you expect anything other than insanity from me?” 

“I guess not,” Vox said, hanging a headless reindeer. “I guess this one’s pretty on brand.” 

As much as he teased him, Vox couldn’t help but find Alastor’s odd quirks cute. 

He hung a few more ornaments, but quickly found he enjoyed watching Alastor enjoy decorating far more than doing it himself. He wagged his little tail and hummed along to the Christmas radio station Vox didn’t have the heart to beg him to turn off. 

“Oh! This one’s my favorite!” Alastor gasped as the opening notes of the next song played. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” 

Vox couldn’t help but roll his eyes, but he had a huge smile on his face as he did. 

“Make the Yule tide gay…” 

Vox only sang along with that one line, and laughed even harder when Alastor gave him a confused look for giggling after. He really hadn’t kept up with even the most common of modern slang. 

He was a strange guy, that was for sure. But he was Vox’s strange guy, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Vox leaned back into Alastor’s antique velvet couch and listened to the crackling of the fireplace, the rustle of the tree branches, and Alastor’s lovely voice as it seemed to sing a promise to him.

“From now on our troubles will be miles away…”

“Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore…”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE YOU TO PUT ON ONE STUPID STAR?!!” Valentino screeched from the bottom of the precarious stack. 

“AS LONG AS IT TAKES YOU TO STAND FUCKING STILL!!!” Velvette shouted from the top. Stuck in the middle, Vox could feel a migraine coming on. 

“Why didn’t we just get a ladder for this?” 

“Because we don’t need one,” Valentino insisted. Suddenly, the entire stack leaned backwards. Vox let out a girlish scream and dug his claws into Valentino’s bald head. Valentino screamed as well. 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND STOP MOVING!” Velvette demanded. 

“IT’S YOUR FAULT FOR LEANING BACKWARDS, AND VOX’S FOR NEARLY GOUGING MY EYES OUT!” 

“I DID NOT, THAT WAS YOU!” 

They continued to bicker as Vox tried to tune them out.

“Through the years we all will be together… if fates allow-“

He shot an unnecessarily powerful bolt of electricity at the Bluetooth speaker playing the music. An extra, overwhelming note of burnt plastic was added to the pleasant scent of gingerbread cooking in the oven. 

“Come on, seriously?!! The hell was that for?” Velvette shouted, finally placing the star. 

“I can’t stand that fucking song, I feel like it’s mocking me!”

“Literally how?”

“I don’t know, okay?!!” He lied. “Do I have to have an explanation for every little thing? And can I please get down now?!!” 

“Aww, someone’s being a grinch,” Valentino cooed. Vox considered zapping him as well. 

“I just don’t get why we’re the ones doing this. We have people for this. There is no reason for us to be doing the grunt work of Christmas when we each have our own massive army of employees at our beck and call.” 

“We’re not paying those bitches to do fun shit!!!” 

Vox hissed as one of the fake wire branches scratched his arm. 

“Nothing about this is fun.” 

“Vox, I don’t think you understand what fun is,” Velvette said as he put her down. “You think using a spreadsheet software is fun.”

“It can do so many things!!! Since when can you plug formulas into a regular old notebook?” 

“You’re such a fucking square, Vox!” Valentino chimed in. 

“You’re a square for still using the word square!” Velvette snapped back. 

A timer went off on Vox’s screen, which he quickly silenced. 

“Could you two stop bitching at me and go take your gingerbread house out of the oven?” 

Giddy excitement immediately took over both of them and they ran across the penthouse to the kitchen. The two of them loved Christmas. Every year they’d dragged Vox through the same tired routine, posing for holiday card photos and decorating every inch of the tower. Their idea of a good Christmastime was the complete opposite of Alastor’s, everything had to look trendy and social-media worthy and exactly how they wanted it, and if it wasn’t they would lose their goddamn minds. Every activity ended in an argument, so Vox tried his best not to get involved. But their idea of a perfect idyllic Christmas always involved him, so every year he ended up swept into the chaos.

It was sweet on paper, he supposed. But in reality, it just made him want to increase his dose of SSRIs for the month of December specifically. 

Left to decorate the Christmas tree by himself, Vox just slapped a few more ornaments on and called it a day. They all looked the same anyway, the tree was perfectly color coded and homogeneous. Val and Velvette wouldn’t notice if red shiny orb number 36 was missing. 

They’re not like Alastor, who would freak out if the glass reindeer that broke seventeen Christmases ago wasn’t there. 

He looked over at his business partners, who were finally quiet as they focused on building their tiny cookie version of V Tower. Val was holding the pieces together while Velvette glued them down with icing. It was admittedly cute to watch the two of them finally work together.

It didn’t last.

“YOU KNOCKED IT OVER, YOU STUPID FUCKING SLUT!!!” 

“I did not! You pushed it, it fell toward me!”

“Yeah, it fell toward you because you’re the one who knocked it over!”

“Do you understand how ANYTHING works?!!”

Vox let out a long, even sigh and walked over to intervene. 

“The icing is never strong enough to hold those things together. Do you want me to get the hot glue gun?”

They both gasped in horror.

“YOU CAN’T USE A HOT GLUE GUN TO BUILD A GINGERBREAD HOUSE, YOU HEATHEN!!!” Velvette screamed.

“Why not? It’s not like it’s very edible by the time Christmas is over anyway.” 

“I still eat it!” Valentino insisted.

“And that’s why you spend every December 26th with a stomachache.” 

Valentino’s only response to that was a few angry squeaks. Velvette was almost done reconstructing the gingerbread house, until Val picked the sign back up and moved to put it on. 

“Valentino, I swear to god if you knock this over I’ll leak your DMs on Sinstagram.” 

“I’m not going to knock it over!” 

“Yeah, you won’t. Because you’re not going to touch it, you CLUMSY IDIOT!” 

Valentino didn’t listen, because of course he didn’t, and the second he touched the gingerbread house it all came tumbling down. 

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!!”

“Val, just let her do it.” 

Valentino whipped his head around and gave Vox a look of abject betrayal. 

“WHY DOES SHE GET TO DO IT?!!”

“It’s just making you frustrated. You don’t have the patience or eyesight for this activity.” 

“WELL FUCK YOU VOX, AT LEAST I CAN BAKE SOMETHING WITHOUT SETTING THE BUILDING ON FIRE!!!”

“Yeah, I know I can’t bake. That’s why I don’t try it.” 

“Can you stop pissing him off?” Velvette whined. “He’s shaking the table.”  

“I’M NOT SHAKING THE TABLE!!! YOU WANNA SEE WHAT SHAKING THE FUCKING TABLE LOOKS LIKE??!!”

Val shoved the table over with all his might and sent the gingerbread house flying across the room. It exploded on impact, leaving a horrible mess of crumbs, candy and icing spread across a fifteen foot radius. 

Vox buried his face in his hands and accepted his fate as Velvette shrieked loud enough to wake the dead. 

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know…”

Music and the smell of warm gingerbread filled the dining room as Vox once again indulged Alastor in his holiday festivities. If Alastor’s gingerbread cookies were anywhere near as delicious as the rest of his recipes, Vox was sure to end his night nauseous after eating most of the batch. But Alastor was insistent upon decorating every single one before he could eat any, so the wonderful smell felt more taunting than anything else. 

“I still don’t get why we can’t just eat them the way they are,” Vox grumbled as he globbed more icing onto the horrible mess he’d made. His Alastor cookie was looking more like an insult than the loving recreation he intended.

“Well where’s the fun in that?” 

“It’s in EATING COOKIES!”

Alastor’s decorating skills, just like his cooking skills, were leagues above Vox’s. He’d somehow managed to make incredibly realistic looking feathers on gingerbread Rosie’s hat with icing alone. 

“I don’t really care for sugar. The cookies are more for the guests, and for the joy of the process.” 

“What joy?” 

Alastor didn’t reply to that. Vox looked up from his cookie disaster to see a pensive look on his face. His heart dropped to his stomach.

“Al, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin this for you-“

“No, no, you didn’t ruin anything,” he reassured. “ I was just… wondering. Did you always hate Christmas this much?”

“I don’t hate Christmas, I like that it makes you happy, it just… never made me happy.” 

“Even when you were a child?” 

“Especially when I was a child.” 

Alastor tilted his head curiously with a little buzz of static. It was terribly cute, and always seemed to get an answer out of Vox even when he didn’t want to give it. 

“Well now that I’m an adult it just seems stupid.” 

“It doesn’t sound like it was stupid to you at the time, so why does that matter?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“Then there’s no need to be ashamed.” 

Vox watched Alastor continue with his cookies, saying nothing. Alastor didn’t say anything more either, he just left the air open for Vox to speak whenever he was ready. He piped the outline of a screen on a square-headed gingerbread man with the fondest of smiles. Vox felt his own square face heat up. 

“My parents sort of used Christmas against me,” he hesitantly explained. “They didn’t like how I turned out, and told me as such. My mom hated that I rarely socialized, and my dad wanted me to be a proper man and play sports like he did when he was young. I always asked Santa for books and movie tickets, but instead I’d get footballs and hockey sticks. One Christmas, I think I was around eight, my family had gotten the Randolph Radio Corp catalog in the mail.” 

“Ah, I remember that one!” Alastor interrupted excitedly. “A wonderful company. I used to love looking through their catalogs.” 

“Me too,” Vox said with a pained smile. “Every night for months I’d read it front to back before bed. I thought all the radios were incredible, but there was a specific one I was obsessed with, it was called the American Radynola.” 

Vox stumbled over the pronunciation a little bit, feeling a bit embarrassed to even be talking about it. But Alastor’s smile widened instantly at the name, and now he was embarrassed for even subconsciously thinking that Alastor would judge him for caring about radios. 

“A wonderful model,” Alastor grinned, “one of the very best. I owned one back in the day.” 

“It was beautiful… At least I thought so in the illustration. The catalog had an entire page dedicated to it, the description made it sound like the most incredible thing in the world. I wanted one more than anything, it was the only thing on my Christmas list. The entire month of December I was on my very best behavior, I did everything my parents asked, I tried my best to interact with the other boys, even though they all hated me… Those twenty five days were hell. But I knew it would be worth it on Christmas morning. I hadn’t made even a single mistake, so Santa was definitely going to bring me my radio…” 

“And I assume he didn’t.” 

Vox shook his head.

“When I came downstairs on Christmas morning, it was all just more of the same. I asked my parents where my radio was, and they told me that Santa knows better than to give a social reject another excuse to stay in his room.” 

Having said all of it out loud, Vox felt even more foolish than before. To still be thinking about something mean his parents did as a grown man was rather pathetic. 

But when he looked over at Alastor, he had his ears pinned back and a tense expression. 

“That’s a terrible thing to do to a child on Christmas.” 

Vox shrugged.

“I guess so. But whatcha gonna do, you know? I turned out fine in the end, I got a job a few years later, bought my own radio with the money and grew up to be the rich and famous socialite they wanted me to be. Christmas was just the shitty part of it.” 

Alastor shook his head.

“That’s not what Christmas is supposed to be about.” 

“Then what’s it supposed to be about, Kris Kringle?” 

“Showing your family you love them.” 

Vox’s heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. His eyes trailed to the portrait of Alastor’s mother in the kitchen, a mother whose face held a tenderness that Vox had never seen in his own. Looking back at Alastor and seeing his expression, the resemblance was striking.

“We didn’t have much, but every year we’d chop down a tree and decorate it with handmade ornaments. We’d use greenery to decorate and make popcorn garlands, and wrap gifts in newspaper. On Christmas Eve we’d go to church, and I’d barely be able to sit still the entire time because I was so excited to get home to help cook the revéillon.” 

“What’s that?” Vox asked, wide eyed and curious. 

“A multi-course feast that lasts all night!”

“All night?!! Before Christmas?!! Don’t you get tired?”

“The meal and conversation are more than enough to keep one awake and lively. The dishes were unlike anything we’d be able to afford on an ordinary day, lobster, foie gras, thirteen desserts…”

“Foie what- THIRTEEN DESSERTS?!!”

“To represent Jesus Christ and the twelve apostles! Some are simple, like dates or dried figs, but others, like the bûche de Noël, are quite the task to perfect.” 

“Every time you speak in French it blows my mind,” Vox muttered under his breath. Judging from Alastor’s chuckle, he still heard him. 

“In English it’s called the Yule log, and by far the best of the desserts. It's one of the only desserts I care for, and you’ll understand why once you try it.” 

“I’m sure I will, everything you make is fucking delicious,” Vox said. “So after all that… did you just go to bed in the morning?” 

Alastor barked out a laugh. 

“HA! Of course not! After the revéillon, we sat around the tree and opened gifts. They were simple, handmade, usually something I needed. As a child it was always a new winter coat since I’d outgrow the one from the previous year. And mama would leave my sister and I a penny in our stockings, so I’d put on my nice new coat and we’d walk down to the corner store so we could use it to buy peppermint sticks. Then we’d indulge in all the joys out in the town, the horn blowing, the fireworks… until we were too tired to keep going, and she’d carry us home.” 

“Wow…” Vox said softly. “That sounds wonderful.”

“It was. There’s truly nothing like a New Orleans Christmas, especially with the people you love.”

“I wish I knew what that felt like.”

The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he was saying. Alastor reacted like it was the most heartbreaking thing he'd ever heard, making Vox regret saying it even more.

“Oh Vox… have you really never had a good Christmas? Not even one?”

“Well… there was the year I sold enough TVs to buy a new Chevy Bel-Air and still have plenty left over for Christmas gifts.”

Alastor chuckled. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It was a really nice car…”

“I’m sure it was. But there’s really no Christmas traditions you’d like to incorporate?”

Vox shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Al...”

“No, don’t apologize. I’ll just have to show you enough of mine to make up for it.” 

Vox laughed.

“Judging from what you told me about the dinner alone, I’m sure you won’t disappoint.” 

“Alright bitches, we got five days until Christmas Eve and five days to come up with a party that will wow our social media platforms. What do you got?”

Velvette stood at the front of the conference room with a document open on the projector, but Vox was more invested in watching his sharks fight over what was left of a seal carcass.

“We need whores,” Valentino instantly contributed. 

“We already have whores, our entire staff is gonna be forced to come!”

“Pills, then. And alcohol. And a disco ball. Those are the only four things you need for a good Christmas Eve.”

“Whores, pills, alcohol, and a disco ball… did you spend all your Christmas Eves clubbing?!!”

“What else would I spend them doing?” 

Velvette rolled her eyes but still added his ideas to the list. “I’m also thinking we need a chocolate fountain. My family always had one at Christmas Eve dinner.”

“How rich was your family?!”

“Not as rich as Vox’s. Speaking of which, any ideas V?”

“What?” he asked monotonously. He didn’t even look away from the aquarium.

“We’re talking about the Christmas Eve party, were you even paying attention?!”

“Sweetiepie’s biting the shit out of JPG and I wanna keep an eye on them in case I have to intervene.”

“STOP LOOKING AT YOUR FUCKING SHARKS!!!”

“FINE!” Vox swiveled around in his chair in a huff. “What do you want?”

“We want to know what your family’s Christmas parties were like, we need ideas.”

“Oh, they fuckin’ sucked,” Vox said. “No ideas to be had there.”

“Didn’t your family live in New York City?! In a massive mansion?! There’s no way in hell there wasn’t some fun shit to do there.”

“No, it was the actual worst. For weeks beforehand my mom wouldn’t let me sit on any of the furniture or step on any of the rugs in case I got them dirty. Then I had to help set the table, and I always got the stupid spoons and knives mixed up! Then everyone my parents knew would show up and eat this big fancy dinner, and I’d get stuck at the kid’s table with all my rowdy cousins who thought it was funny to steal my glasses and try them on. And worst of all, my parents always forced me to wear these stupid fucking costumes! When I was really little I was an elf, and then I was a reindeer, and then I was Santa... And all the while they’d parade me around like some kind of circus act while everyone cooed over how cute I was! Can you imagine trying to discuss the stock market with one of Wall Street’s richest shareholders and the entire time he’s talking down to you because you’re wearing a Santa suit?!! Christmas Eve was always the most humiliating day of my life.”

Velvette rolled her eyes.

“He was probably talking down to you because you were a child.”

Before Vox could reply and reassure her that was totally not the case, Valentino shot up and waved his hand in the air.” 

“HOLY SHIT, THAT’S A GREAT IDEA!!! WE SHOULD ALL WEAR COSTUMES!!!”

Both Velvette and Vox’s eyes grew to the size of Christmas ornaments. 

“FUCK YES!!!”

“FUCK NO!!!”

Both Valentino and Velvette groaned and Vox’s refusal.

“Come on Voxxie, it’ll be fun! You’ll make a great Santa, the kind that all of those songs about fucking him were written about!!!”

“If Vox is Santa, then Val can be Mrs. Claus, and I’ll be a reindeer. The pictures will do numbers on Sinstagram!!!”

The idea of having photos of him dressed as Santa plastered on the internet made Vox want to stick his head in the shark tank. It was bad enough when they were only in his parents’ photo albums. 

“Why do I have to be Santa?! Why can’t Val do it? He’s already got the red coat!”

“Then who would be Mrs. Claus?!” 

“Who the fuck cares about Mrs. Claus?!!”

“I DO!” Velvette and Valentino both shouted in unison. 

“Just make Angel do it! Doesn’t he have a whole collection of slutty Christmas dresses?!!” 

“The princess is hogging him all day on Christmas Eve to do her stupid little rehab activities. Something about a giving tree and caroling and trying the Radio Demon’s famous gingerbread recipe-“

“Just shut the fuck up, Val.” The memories of the delicious gingerbread were so overwhelming that Vox’s eyes were starting to sting. “I’ll wear the stupid outfit if it means we can stop talking about this.” 

“All good with me, amorcito!” 

“This is gonna be SO CUTE!!!” 

The glee in their voices made Vox shoot sparks from his antennas. 

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, soon the bells will start…”

“I know you wanted me to look festive, but don’t you think this is a little… much?” Vox asked, trying his goddamn best not to offend Alastor. “The vest is fine, the pants… sure, but the bow tie’s a tad tacky.” 

The other guests would arrive any minute now, and Alastor had simply shook his head and snapped his fingers when Vox showed up on his doorstep wearing one of his usual blue suits. Now he was wearing a red sweater vest over a white dress shirt, red and white pinstripe pants, and a candy cane bow tie to match. He looked ready to go work a shift in Santa's workshop, which wasn’t really the vibe he was going for. But Alastor just waved off his concerns with an icing-covered hand.

“Nonsense, you look adorable!” 

That was the end of Vox’s protests. 

“But the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing right within your heart.” 

“Something smells amazing,” he said, peeking over Alastor’s shoulder with a smile. “And there’s so many things going on, I can’t even tell what it is!”

Alastor’s counter and stovetop were packed with both finished and in-progress dishes. He rolled the bûche de Noël with one hand and seasoned venison with the other, all while using his shadow tendrils to stir four pots on the stove. 

“Do you need any help?” Vox asked. “You‘ve literally got your hands full.”

“Oh, definitely not in the kitchen,” Alastor said with a teasing look. “But if you could set the table for me that would be lovely. The fine china and silverware are in the cabinet above the fridge.” 

Vox opened it and carefully removed the most gorgeous table settings he’d ever seen. 

“Wow, these are even nicer than my mom’s.” 

“Aren’t they? Rosie gave them to me on my first Christmas in Hell.” 

Vox looked closer at the designs on the plates and noticed they were actually bones.

“Yup, seems like Rosie all right.” 

Vox got to work setting the table, trying his best to remember the orders his mother had barked at him. Alastor occasionally glanced over when he had the chance. When he noticed a problem, his critique was much gentler.

“The fork goes to the left of the plate, dear.” 

“Does it really matter that much?”

“Of course it does! A proper table setting is the foundation of a proper meal. If the first thing my guests see is improperly arranged silverware, they will assume that I don’t care very much as a host.”

“It’s just Rosie, Niffty and Mimzy. I’m pretty sure they’re already aware that you care way too much as a host.” 

Alastor just laughed at that.

Despite his remarks, Vox fixed his mistakes. If something was important to Alastor, it was important to him. He’d learned his lesson after the disaster with the magazine interview.

There was a knock at the door just as Vox lit the last candle in the deer antler candelabras. 

“I’ll get it,” he said, and hurried over. He opened the door to greet all three guests, all dressed in the fanciest fur coats he’d ever seen. 

“Hey guys, merry Christmas! Those are some nice coats you’ve got.” 

“Alastor gave ‘em to us last year, killed and skinned ‘em himself,” Mimzy explained. 

Vox laughed.

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like him. Of course he’d find a way to make Christmas gifts morbid.” 

“But don’t you look festive!” Rosie chirped, pulling him into one of her crushing hugs. 

“Thanks,” he said in a strained voice. “Al’s idea.” 

“It’s so good to see you again, honey! Under better circumstances, especially!” 

Vox flushed with embarrassment.

“Yeah… why don’t you come inside, Alastor’s cooking and I just finished setting the table.” 

Rosie smiled at that and patted his head. 

“Good on you for helping him out! He always takes on so much for this dinner, stressing about making it perfect…”

Vox laughed.

“Don’t I know it.” 

The four headed inside. Rosie, Mimzy and Niffty made themselves comfortable in the living room as Vox knelt by the fireplace to light it with his electricity. 

“Dinner’s almost ready everyone,” Alastor called from the kitchen, “my apologies for not greeting you all properly.” 

“No worries Alastor,” Mimzy called back. “Just work on cookin’ up those oysters I love so much!”  She glanced over to the tray of cookies on the coffee table and laughed. “Holy shit Vox, did you make this?” She held up his awful Alastor cookie. “It looks just like him!” 

“You really captured that crooked glance of his,” Rosie said with a chuckle. 

“It looks messy.” 

Niffty had been glaring at Vox like he was a pesky cockroach the entire time they’d been there, and this was the first time she’d spoken a word to him. Clearly she was the type to hold a grudge, not surprising from the person who'd left dead rats in his mailbox as vengeance. He  laughed nervously.

“Yeah, well… I’m not as good as Al.”

“Mind your manners, Niffty,” Rosie gently scolded, but when one of the ears fell off the Alastor cookie no one refuted her point. 

“Finally, an excuse to eat some gingerbread!” Vox picked the ear up off the floor and handed it to Niffty. 

“Hey Niff, wanna see a cool trick?”

Vox zapped into the TV next to him, and his face filled the screen. 

“Throw that at my mouth. I'm gonna catch it!” 

Rosie shot up from her seat as Niffty reared back to throw.

“Sweetie, don’t, you’re gonna break it-“

Niffty threw the gingerbread at a horrifying speed, and instead of it breaking the screen like Rosie feared it flew right down Vox’s throat. He instantly started choking, leaving Rosie worried, Niffty giggling, and Mimzy mildly amused.

“Wow, a real classy Christmas party we’ve got here!”

Vox teleported out of the TV, still coughing.

“Don’t be a- fuck- don’t be a bore!” 

Vox’s face cycled through error screens until he was able to breathe again. Alastor was chuckling from his station in the kitchen, and Niffty was laughing like a madwoman. 

“You’re weird… I like that!” 

To Vox’s shock, she climbed him like a tree then started messing with all the knobs and buttons on his head. 

“Woah, neat! What does this button do?! If your face is glass can I still poke you in the eye?!!”

“YES! YES!” Vox screamed, finally managing to pry her away from his face. “And just for future reference, turning those dials makes me feel like my brain is getting scrambled!!!”

“Oooh, fun!” 

“For you, maybe!”

“Niffty dear,” Alastor called from the kitchen, saving him. “Could you come wash these pots for me?” 

Niffty’s eye lit up, and she kicked in Vox’s hold. 

“Lemme down!!!”

Vox placed her back on the floor, and she happily waved as she skittered off.

“Bye Mr. Vox!” 

Vox laughed a little as she left.

“So letting her torture me was the key to winning her over… now I get why she gets along so well with Al.” 

“They certainly are two peas in a pod,” Rosie agreed. “I could say the same thing about the two of you. He’s always talking about you on the radio, I’ve never seen him so happy.” 

“I’ve never been this happy either,” Vox admitted. “I’m so lucky to have him.” 

“I’m sure he feels the same way. From the looks of it, I have a feeling we’ll all be spending Christmas together for thousands of years.” 

Vox watched Alastor laugh as Niffty chased Mimzy with soap suds, and his heart seemed to glow. 

“I hope you’re right.” 

When it was time for dinner, it was strange but sweet to see all of the chairs at the table be filled. The dining room seemed to be perfectly designed to seat each of Alastor’s most cherished friends, except now there was one extra. He’d brought down one of the workshop stools for Niffty, which worked out because she already needed the height anyway. Still, Vox hesitated to take his usual seat until Alastor pulled out the chair and gestured for him to sit. After that, he enjoyed his meal while laughing with Mimzy, Rosie and Niffty like relatives catching up after a lifetime of being apart. 

As Alastor promised, the meal was huge and fancy and unbelievably long. The first to fall asleep was Niffty. As insistent as she was on staying awake for dessert, sometime around 1 AM she faceplated on the table. 

“This happens every year,” Mimzy explained to Vox, laughing. “She always thinks she can make it till dessert, but barely makes it through the first course.” 

“Hush, Mimzy,” Alastor said softly. “You’ll wake her.” 

Alastor lifted Niffty out of her chair as gently as a father would a sleeping child, then slowly and carefully carried her upstairs. 

“God, that’s fuckin’ adorable,” Vox said as soon as he was out of earshot. Alastor still couldn’t stand hearing he was cute. 

“He’s always been so good to her,” Rosie agreed with a smile. 

About an hour after Niffty, Rosie retired to bed as well. Mimzy made it until 3 AM before finally dragging herself to the couch. All the while, Alastor never tired. And all the while, Vox resolved to stay awake with him. 

“Are you ready for dessert?” Alastor asked, brimming with energy as he stood to open the fridge. 

Vox didn’t have nearly as much. He was forced to stifle a yawn as soon as he opened his mouth. 

“Yeah… that sounds good.” 

Alastor’s ears drooped slightly. It hurt Vox’s heart.

“Are you tired, dear?” 

“No… I’m fine.” 

“You look exhausted.” 

“I’m not.” 

Alastor knew better. Vox’s face was overlaid with static, and he could barely keep his eyes open.

“You don’t need to stay awake for me, go ahead and rest.” 

“But I want to. This is important to you, and I love you too much to leave you to finish the meal alone.” 

“I always finish the meal alone.” 

“Not always.” 

Alastor’s eyes widened with realization. Then his face softened. 

“Vox-“

“You said you always enjoyed this meal with your family. Well I’m your family now, and you’ve done so much for me this year, and you deserve to have that again.”

Alastor’s ears fell all the way back. His smile pursed into something small and sad, and he shook his head. 

“No, that’s… in the past. I gave up my right to having a family when I took my first life. And I don’t regret it, but it was a difficult sacrifice I made a long time ago. I’ve come to terms with it.” 

“Aren’t you the one that taught me that you can rebuild your old life down here?” 

“You can’t replace family-“

“You can’t, but you can build a new one. And I already consider you my family, so… bring out the bûche de Noël.” 

Alastor stared at Vox so intensely and for so long, he started to think he said something wrong. But instead of opening the fridge, Alastor walked over, crouched down, and hugged him. It was the longest hug Alastor had ever given him, and Vox could’ve easily fallen asleep on his shoulder. But he didn’t dare. 

“You’re a good man, Vox. The best I’ve ever met. You know that, right?” 

Alastor’s voice was so soft that if Vox had been a mere foot away he wouldn’t have understood. 

He nodded.

“Same to you, Al.” 

Vox would fall asleep at the table a short five minutes later. But not before eating half of the entire bûche de Noël.

Vox stirred slightly when Alastor lifted him to carry him up to bed, but Alastor just shushed him and snapped his fingers to put him in some pajamas. The last thing Vox heard before he finally passed out was Alastor’s tinny voice singing softly to him. 

“Sleep in heavenly peace.”

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day, you gave it away…”

Vox tried his best not to choke as he finished off another strong glass of Christmas punch. Something about being drunk made horrible noise more tolerable, and this party was full of that. Company Christmas parties were never fun, but at least the Vees put in the effort. The tower’s ballroom was decked out in excessive decorations, the refreshments table was twenty feet long, and the flashing club lights had even been set to red and green. It put even the Texas megachurches to shame.

Vox hadn’t moved an inch from the punch bowl the entire time. It was honestly disgusting, colored with enough red 40 to give a child a heart attack and filled with heaps of sprinkles and chocolate Santas. The overwhelming minty flavor was starting to make Vox wonder if mouthwash was the main ingredient, but whatever it was, it was getting him fucked up. The more he drank the less he wanted to electrocute the DJ, so he stood in the corner in that dumbass Santa suit downing glass after glass until he could barely stand. 

“Merry Christmas, boss!” chirped the annoying voice of his assistant, Sheldon. He was wearing a hat with elf ears and one of those stupid flashing Christmas light necklaces. “Like my hat? I heard you were dressing as Santa, so I thought it was only appropriate to be your elf!”

Hearing that made Vox down an entire cup of punch at once. 

“That’s the stupidest fuckin’ shit I’ve ever seen.” As soon as the words left his mouth he realized that speaking was a mistake.

“Sir, are you drunk?!”

“Of course I’m drunk, look at this place! It’s like if Santa’s workshop and a strip club had a baby! 

Sheldon finished off his own glass and was immediately left far drunker than he was before. 

“Yeah… I guess it is a little much... is that chocolate?!! Jesus Christ. Why are you drinking this? It’s fuckin… oh god, that’s strong.”

“There you have it. I always drink at Christmas, it’s the only way I can get through it. This year is just especially horrible.”

“That’s… that’s a real shame, sir. Is it because Alastor’s back?” 

The punch must have hit him hard to give him the nerve to say something like that. 

“Just for that, I’m taking back your Christmas bonus.” 

“But you don’t even give Christmas bonuses-“

“Just get the fuck out of my sight!!! Go enjoy the party like the boring yes-man you are before I short out all the laser lights and blame it on you!”

Sheldon obeyed and ran off, disappearing back into the pulsating mass of people dancing that was becoming nauseating to look at. 

At some point Velvette and Valentino emerged from it. The lighting was so abysmal that he only recognized them by their voices. 

“There you are, Vox! You’ve been over here for the whole party, at least get some pictures with us so it looks like you’re having fun!”

“C’mon babe, I have twelve different hickeys and none of them are from you yet!”

Vox didn’t agree to either of their requests. He just stumbled to a more upright position and pointed to the punch bowl. 

“What’s in the punch, guys?”

Velvette and Valentino shared a concerned look.

“I don’t really remember,” Val admitted. “I just kinda dumped whatever in there. I think it’s vodka, strawberry margarita, a lot of mouthwash…” 

“I fuckin knew it...”

“That’s actually disgusting,” Velvette butted in, “Why did I let you be in charge of the drinks? And why are you drinking it? Is half the bowl missing?!! Was that all you?!!” 

She snatched the glass out of Vox’s hand, thoroughly pissing him off.

“It was all me, because this Christmas party fucking sucks! Where’s the fireworks?! The bûche de Noël?!! This sucks more ass than Angel did in his Candy Cane Up My Boyfriend’s Butt video!” 

“What the fuck is a bûche de Noël?!” Valentino asked.

“The best fucking cake you’ll ever eat in your goddamn life!!! But instead of that you have shitty quaaludes and a chocolate fountain twelve people have dipped their dicks in!!!”

“As if you have the right to complain when you did nothing to help!” Velvette huffed. 

“Because I have important shit to do, instead of planning some overdesigned excuse for our employees to get shitfaced on the company’s dime! And you can’t even do that right because NONE OF THIS SHIT IS FUCKING GOOD!” 

Vox slapped the punch bowl off the table, splattering bright red liquid and a slurry of melted candy all over the floor.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Velvette snapped. “Why have you been such a miserable cunt all month?! Valentino and I are just trying to have a good fucking holiday and every time we do something fun you just bitch and moan the whole time!” 

“BECAUSE I HATE THIS FUCKING HOLIDAY!!! IT DOES NOTHING BUT REMIND ME ABOUT ALL THE SHIT THAT’S GONE WRONG IN MY LIFE AND YOU WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE ABOUT IT!!! EVERY TIME I LOOK AT THAT STUPID TREE OR THESE STUPID COSTUMES OR HEAR THAT STUPID FUCKING MUSIC IT JUST MAKES ME THINK ABOUT ALL THE PEOPLE WHO WOULDN’T LOVE ME!!! I JUST WANT TO PUT MY HEAD DOWN, MAKE MY MONEY AND FORGET ABOUT IT!!!”

Vox violently ripped his hat and beard off and threw it down into the puddle. He attempted to stomp off, but some combination of him being drunk and the floor being slippery ended with him falling face first and smacking hard against the ground. The crunch of glass immediately followed by stinging pain was a familiar sensation, his face had always been fragile after all. But that didn’t make it any less miserable. 

“Oh, shit!” Velvette hissed. 

Valentino immediately swooped down to help him up. 

“Voxxie? Baby? Can you hear me? How bad is it?” 

A garbled sob crackled out of his broken speaker. 

Velvette looked at his shattered but still glowing face and sighed.

“He’ll be alright. He’s just absolutely wasted.” 

“I’m not wasted,” Vox drunkenly wailed, “and take off those stupid antlers!!!  You look like Alastor. Stupid fucking bitch… go back to your gayass hotel and leave me alone!”

Velvette blinked a couple times, her eyes wide in shock. 

“What are you even-“ she stopped herself and sighed, holding back out of sheer pity. “Look at you, you’re a mess. Val, you need to take him upstairs.” 

“What?!! He can’t leave! Without Santa, no one will know who I am!”

“Nobody knows who you are anyway!”

“I hate being Santa… I wanna wear the stupid candy cane tie…” 

“See, he’s rambling about shit that doesn’t exist. Go tape up his screen and put him to bed, he looks like he’s two seconds from throwing up or blacking out.” 

Valentino finally gave in once Vox gave up on trying to stand altogether. He carefully lifted him over his shoulder, careful not to bump his head against anything. 

“Aww, Voxxie… usually you’re the one dragging my drunk ass out of a party.” 

The voice that came out of Vox was so glitchy and distorted with tears it was almost incomprehensible.

“I wanna go home…”

“I know, baby. That’s where we’re going.” 

“No, I wanna go home…”

Valentino, as usual, didn’t understand. He just brought him upstairs and taped up his face, and by the time his screen was held back together he’d already passed out. 

“Hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near… It's the most wonderful time of the year.” 

Emerging from Alastor’s guest room in borrowed pajamas the next morning was a truly nostalgic experience for Vox. The delicious smell of coffee wafted up the staircase like it did when he first stayed there, but the peaceful quiet that usually filled the living room in the morning was replaced with joyful chaos. Alastor chatted with Rosie as she finished up her leftovers, while Mimzy attempted to wrangle Niffty as she shook every single present under the tree. 

“Niffty, stop it! If you end up breaking one of my gifts I’m chargin’ ya!” 

“But they’re all so prettyyyy!!! Look at this shiny one! It’s so fancy and I need to destroy it!” 

Alastor’s ear flicked at the mention of the silver present. 

“Niffty dear, leave that one be. It’s very special and very fragile.” 

Hearing that just made her want to break it more, but as she leapt from Mimzy’s grasp and attempted to lift it, it was far too heavy. 

Vox found himself laughing, which he wasn’t expecting so early in the morning. Alastor lit up at the sound of his voice.

“Ah, Vox! You’ve finally joined us! We were starting to think you’d died a second time up there!” 

Alastor’s normally huge smile was even huger than usual. Everyone laughed along with his lame joke, and it wasn’t out of fear. 

“I’m the weird one? It’s like eight AM! And on a weekend!”

“But it’s also Christmas,” Alastor said, patting Vox’s head and handing him a gorgeous China teacup. “Drink this if you’re still feeling drowsy. It’s peppermint tea, it’ll wake you right up!” 

Vox took a sip and instantly agreed. 

“I need to open this NOW,” Niffty said, shaking one of her presents. “THERE COULD BE BUGS IN THERE!!!” 

“Then I wouldn’t shake it too hard,” Rosie warned, “we wouldn’t want a repeat of last Christmas.” 

Alastor and Mimzy both groaned. 

“I spent all that time catchin’ all the centipedes infesting my club instead of killin’ em, only for her to do it for me!” 

The four all laughed, leaving Vox feeling a little left out of the shared memory. The feeling didn’t last long though.

“How come Vox gets the special present?!” Niffty shouted from the living room. She’d transitioned from shaking the presents to reading every single one of the tags. 

Alastor’s response was immediate. 

“Because this is his first Christmas with us, and I want it to be a special one.” 

Vox felt his face heat up. Maybe it was the delicious smell of the tea in his hands, or the crackling sounds of the fireplace, or the way Alastor smiled with all the jolly warmth of Santa Claus himself, but he was finally starting to understand why people loved this stupid holiday so much. It was a day where all the special things in life were cranked up to a million, and now that he had those special things he could finally understand what that felt like. 

The exchanging of gifts was unlike any he’d ever experienced before. Every reaction was genuine and enthusiastic, so much so that Vox was worried that his gifts wouldn’t measure up. But each of the girls squealed in glee when they opened them, thanking him with suffocating hugs that would put his most overbearing relatives to shame. They gave him some pretty great gifts too, a gorgeous new tie from Rosie, a bottle of Mimzy’s strongest moonshine, and a needlepoint pillow from Niffty featuring the ugliest, most misshapen shark he’d ever seen in his life. Somehow that was his favorite so far. 

Him and Alastor were the last to exchange gifts. Anxiety swirled in Vox’s stomach as he handed Alastor a lumpy package wrapped in newspaper.

“I’m not very good at wrapping, as you probably saw with the others. But I remembered what you said about newspaper, so…”

Alastor looked down at the present with a look softer than silk. 

“What a good listener you are.”

He carefully tore into the package, revealing a lovely red peacoat. 

“Vox, this is gorgeous,” he said with wide eyes.

“There’s more stuff wrapped in it.” 

Inside the jacket Alastor found peppermint sticks, a horn, and a couple Roman candles.

“I don’t know if I got the exact right things. But I know how you love tradition, so I tried my best.” 

Alastor’s ears slowly folded down as he gazed upon his gifts in awe. He put one of the peppermint sticks in his mouth and closed his eyes, and Vox could practically see him transport back in time.

“No,” he said after a few peaceful moments. “This is perfect. Thank you, dear.”

He gave Vox a hug, and even after he pulled away he had that same emotional look on his face.

“You gonna cry, Al?” Vox asked with a smirk. 

Alastor smirked back. 

“What do you think?” 

“Yeah, shoulda known better than to think the Radio Demon had feelings.” Vox playfully grabbed at one of Alastor’s ears as he said it, but Alastor flicked it away before he could yank on it. 

“You rascal! If I’d known you’d be acting this way I would’ve gotten you coal!”

“You’d never have the heart to do that to me.”

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” 

“Nope! Now what did you get me instead?” 

Alastor’s mischief was immediately replaced with excitement. 

“Something very special. I believe I’ve outdone myself with this one.” 

Alastor picked up the silver present and handed it to him. He was careful when he placed it into Vox’s hands, and Vox understood why when he realized how heavy it was. 

“What’s in here, a rock?”

“Go ahead, open it!” Alastor was practically vibrating. “I can’t wait any longer!”

Vox laughed. 

“You’re acting like this present is for you!” 

“I just want to see your reaction!” 

“Alright, alright, cool it. I'm opening it.” 

Vox untied the ribbon and tore off the paper. He lifted the lid off the box inside… 

And gazed upon his childhood dream come true. 

The American Radynola, in all its glory, alongside all the accessories it was advertised with in the catalog. It was an exact replica, torn straight from the illustrations. Except for one thing. Carved into the top was a message:

To Vox on his first Christmas in the underworld

From his proud mentor, Alastor the Radio Demon

May the sound of the radio always remind you that you are loved. 

The room was completely still and silent for the first time that morning. Even Niffty didn’t swoop in to clean up the wrapping paper as she always did. They all watched with baited breath as Vox gingerly stroked the carved message with his claw. Alastor was the stillest of them all. He sat tensely in front of him, twiddling his thumbs as he anxiously waited for a reaction. He watched Vox look over every part of it, turn each of the dials, tilt the bell speaker back and forth to admire the reflections in the brass. Then he looked up at Alastor. 

“Al,” Vox said in the wobbliest voice that had ever come out of him, “It’s my radio.”

Alastor’s eyes went wide with concern when he saw the tears streaming down his face. 

“Oh Vox, sweetheart-” 

Alastor couldn’t even finish his sentence before Vox wrapped him up in a crushing hug. 

“I can’t believe it, it’s just as beautiful as the picture…”

Just as Vox was starting to feel stupid for crying over a Christmas present, Alastor’s arms wrapped around him in turn. It really was never just a present, he was starting to realize. 

“I worked many long nights to make this perfect for you,” Alastor explained. “You deserve to finally have it after all this time. You earned it, after all. Isn’t that what you told me?” 

Vox sobbed into his shoulder, barely able to pull himself together to respond. 

“You understand,” he said, barely audible. But Alastor’s ears were big, and the extra squeeze he got in return confirmed that he did indeed understand. 

“I do. I’m sorry someone didn’t sooner.” 

“I love you,” Vox said, stronger, louder. “I love you so, so much. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Alastor nodded, resting his chin on Vox’s boxy head.

“And I love you just as much.”

When they finally broke away from their hug, Rosie and Mimzy were both teary-eyed. Alastor burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Mimzy insisted. “You two are just too damn sweet to each other, anybody with a soul would cry at that!”

“Then why isn’t Niffty crying?” 

Mimzy looked at Niffty, who was humming to herself as she sewed a ribbon directly into a live roach’s head. 

“She’s a special case.” 

They all laughed. 

Alastor passed the peppermint sticks around to everybody as Vox plugged in his new radio. The music came through just as loud and clear as the catalog had promised. 

“A very merry Christmas, and a happy new year…”

He stared at his reflection in the bell speaker. He was no longer that same little boy who wanted to listen to the radio alone in his room, but a TV-headed demon of a man who reveled in sharing it with his lover’s odd little family. But his smile was just as big as he imagined it'd be back then, albeit sharp and digital rather than gap-toothed. 

“Let’s hope it’s a good one…”

Vox sat down and rested his head on Alastor’s shoulder, eating his offered peppermint while everyone discussed when to light the fireworks. Their collective joy filled the room like a beautiful song.

“…Without any fear.”

This was what Christmas was supposed to be. 

“And so this is Christmas, and what have we done?”

Vox groggily awoke on Christmas morning to a headache, Velvette and Valentino’s laughter from downstairs, and the muffled music that accompanied it. 

“Another year over, and a new one just begun.” 

There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to go back to sleep, but his hangover was forcing him to go downstairs and get something to eat. So he reluctantly did. 

The smells of coffee cake, chocolate, and gingerbread all assaulted Vox at once as he slowly and miserably descended the stairs. Velvette and Valentino sat on the couch in front of the Christmas tree, happily chatting about the party. 

“I can’t believe you don’t remember shooting at the disco ball!!!”

“If I was sober enough to remember I wouldn’t have done it, babydoll.”

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“I would never disrespect disco and you know that!!!”

“Wow, fighting on Christmas,” Vox said, managing a weary smile as he joined his colleagues. “Isn’t Santa gonna punish you for that or something?” 

To Vox’s surprise, they seemed more startled to see him than excited. Still, they played it off.

“Merry Christmas, Voxxie!” 

“Morning, V!” 

Their overly chipper voices and nervous smiles were a dead giveaway something more was wrong than a hangover. 

“Do you remember anything from last night?” Velvette cautiously asked. 

“No… but I must’ve gotten fucking wasted. I have the worst headache, like one of my batteries is about to explode or something.” 

The two of them had been staring at his face for a weirdly long time, like something was wrong with it. Did he really look that rough?

“Hot chocolate helps with that,” Velvette offered, picking up the steaming mug. 

“That’s just straight up not true.” 

“Do you want some anyway?” 

“Screw it, why not.” 

He took the hot chocolate, which was specifically prepared for him in his usual fuck Alastor mug. He’d find the quote funny on any other day. 

The second he bumped the mug against his screen he hissed in pain. He touched his face and ran his fingers along the cracks and the tape that patched them. 

“Did I break my fucking screen?!!”

Velvette and Val shared another look. Vox opened his phone camera and stared at the shattered disaster patched with glittery tape usually reserved for wrapping Christmas presents. He scowled.

“It’s festive!” Valentino explained.

Vox’s will to live plummeted into the negatives.

“I hate this stupid fucking holiday.”

Valentino’s good mood was not at all soured.

“Do you wanna open your present?” 

“The one in your lap? I know it’s your dick in a box.”

“What?!! How’d you guess that?”

“Because that’s what you do every year.” 

“So do you wanna open it or what?” 

“Maybe later.” 

The oven timer beeped, and Velvette practically jumped out of her chair. 

“It’s ready!!!”

“What’s ready?” Vox asked, seemingly the only one left out of the loop on this. 

“We made a special surprise for you,” Valentino said.

“I made a special surprise for you,” Velvette corrected. “I was nice enough to let Val help with the first one, but he dropped it on the floor.” 

“You didn’t have to tell him!!!”

“You have four hands, how did you even manage that?!” 

“JUST SHOW HIM THE GODDAMN CAKE!!!”

Velvette reached into the oven and pulled out a large, flat pan. It would be unassuming to the average person, but to Vox it was unmistakable.

“Did you make a bûche de Noël??”

“Yeah, looked up the recipe online. Wasn’t this the thing you said you needed to have a good Christmas party?” 

“Shit, I can’t remember,” Vox admitted, but he couldn’t help but smile. 

“The other one was fireworks,” Valentino added. 

Vox blushed. Had he gone on a tirade about Alastor’s Christmas parties last night?

“Do you want to help with the icing?” Velvette asked. 

“No, no, I’ll just fuck it up. You do it.” 

Vox watched from the couch as Velvette rolled it up with the same slow carefulness Alastor used to. He tried his best to swallow the lump in his throat, and when Valentino wrapped his arm around him he didn’t push him away. 

Velvette returned with two plates, each holding a perfect swirly slice. 

“It’s good,” she confirmed, “try it.” 

Valentino dug into his immediately, while Vox was hesitant. When he tried a piece his eyes went wide. The texture wasn’t quite perfect, Alastor’s was a bit fluffier and a lot thicker, but he hadn’t tasted anything like it in decades. 

“Voxxie’s crying,” Valentino told Velvette with a smirk. 

“Are you crying because it’s awful or because it’s good?” 

Vox didn’t answer, just nodded. He spaced out as he savored the rest of it, and when he came back to earth his colleagues were already washing the dishes. 

“Thanks Vel,” he said when she came to get his plate. His voice was embarrassingly rough. “That really meant a lot.” 

Velvette’s smile was unusually sweet.

“No problem, V. I’ll make it again next year.” 

Vox composed himself while they finished cleaning up, and by the time they came back he’d mustered up his usual unimpressed Christmas attitude.

“Do you guys want to do presents or something?”

Val and Vel both responded with the exact opposite energy, gasping in excitement and tossing boxes to each other. 

“This is just one of those airwrap hairbrush things with a ribbon tied around it, and only one of us has hair, so I’m assuming it’s mine.” 

“Yep, and this one’s for Voxxie.”

Vox opened the tiny box Valentino had tossed to him and smiled when he pulled out a set of car keys. 

“Nice! What is it? Gas? Electric?” 

“It’s one of those crazy electric trucks that look like they’re from a video game.” 

“You did not buy him another car! We don’t have any space left for that!” 

“He doesn’t have any space left for new sharks, and he only likes two things that are actually fun to buy. If you dated men you’d understand.” 

“Would now be a bad time to mention I also bought Val a new car?” 

“Of course you did.” 

After unwrapping hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of presents to each other, there was still a massive pile of packages in the corner. 

“Do you guys want to open the PR shit now or have something to eat?” Vox asked, exhausted. 

“They’re presents too!” Velvette insisted. “Just because they were given to us as a business tactic doesn’t make them less exciting!” 

Velvette and Valentino started tearing into them with the exact same fervor they’d had before, and Vox just yawned and stood up to get a snack from the kitchen. There was no way there would be anything of value in there, just shitty T-shirts and maybe some tiny makeup samples if they were lucky.

He turned on the coffee maker and started to cut himself another slice of the bûche de Noël, only for the conversation in the other room to make him drop his knife.

“What the fuck is that?!”

“It’s from that pussy hotel the princess is running.” 

Vox teleported back into the living room through Velvette’s phone and snatched the envelope out of Valentino’s hand. Sure enough, the Hazbin Hotel was written in as the return address. 

“I was opening that!” Valentino snapped, but Vox barely heard him. He fervently tore into the envelope with his claws and pulled out a Christmas card. It was adorned with gold foil and a photo of the hotel residents. Charlie and the gang were all there, wearing gaudy outfits and even gaudier smiles. Vox didn’t care about them. Off to the corner was Alastor, posing with Niffty wearing a bell around his neck. His smile didn’t seem as forced as it was in other promotional material. The same light that Vox had seen on his favorite Christmas morning still glimmered in his eyes. 

He gingerly opened the card and read the message inside. 

May Heaven’s light reach your doorstep this Holiday season. 

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from the staff and residents of the Hazbin Hotel!

Vox wasn’t sure why he felt disappointed that the message ended there. He wasn’t sure why he had stupidly hoped there would be an extra note, scrawled out in all caps in Alastor’s scratchy black handwriting. He would’ve been happy with a simple fuck you, anything to indicate that the card had been in Alastor’s hands. But it was just a stupid soulless junk-mail card, just like the thousands of others they'd received. A marketing tactic, a courtesy from a fellow business.  Hollow and meaningless, like every Christmas before Alastor and every one after.

Vox chucked the card into the fireplace and watched it curl and writhe in the flames. The gold foil turned black and the paper crumbled into ashes, until finally all that was left of it was a shrunken charred husk. 

Velvette and Valentino didn’t say a word. They held perfectly still despite both having half-opened presents in their hands. They watched as Vox stood, kicking aside the shredded wrapping paper on the floor.

“I’m not feeling well. I’m gonna go lie down.” 

Velvette looked at Valentino, who had the same tense look on his face. He knew exactly what she did, that Vox was going to lock himself in his room and listen to his radio for the rest of the day. Every Christmas, his obsession with Alastor would take him from them eventually. 

“Vox,” Velvette said gently, “bring it down here.” 

Vox stopped, but he didn’t turn around. 

“Bring what down here?” 

“Your radio.” 

He turned to look at her. His expression was both startled and thankful. Velvette just gestured upstairs. 

He returned a few moments later, holding the radio’s box tightly to his body as if someone would try to take it from him. He still kept it in the same box he’d received it in, yellowing silver paper still stuck to it in places like shimmery leeches. He didn’t say a word as he carefully lifted the radio and speaker out of the box and plugged the ancient cord into a power strip. 

He wasn’t surprised that the radio was tuned to the Christmas station, he only used it during this time of year. What did surprise him was the song that was playing. 

“I’ll have a blue Christmas without you… I’ll be so blue just thinking about you…”

His favorite. Still his favorite after all these years, even though the lyrics now cut deep into his heart.

“Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree, won’t be the same dear, if you’re not here with me.” 

He laid down on the couch with his head right next to the speaker and closed his eyes. The sound of Velvette and Valentino’s excitement quickly resumed, but Vox only focused on the lingering taste of the bûche de Noël in his mouth, the crackle of the fireplace, and Elvis’s voice over the speaker.

“And when those blue snowflakes start falling… that’s when those blue memories start calling.” 

He wondered if Alastor really was as happy as he looked in that photo. He wondered if he still thought about him on this day, remembered the wonderful holidays they’d shared. He wondered if the Hazbin Hotel crew had filled the hole he’d left in Alastor’s heart. He wondered if he’d even left one at all.

“You’ll be doing alright with your Christmas of white…”

No one could fill the hole that Alastor had left in his own heart. But if Vox had learned anything in his long life, it was that you could have many things, but never the ones you wanted most. 

“But I’ll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.”