Vox had thought the biggest scandal a small town could have would be a meth lab exploding. Instead he gets front row seats to the messy divorce of royalty. Literal fucking royalty. And he can't even sell it to journalists because they're only royalty in Hell.
"I'm just saying, we could fudge the details," Vox tries.
"And when the reporters do a little research and find out that Stolas Goetia doesn't exist," Alastor points out. "You'd be ridiculed for the rest of your life."
"What's his alias, then?"
"He doesn't have one."
"What the fuck do you mean he doesn't have one? He exists in America, the government knows about him, which means he has to have an alias or they'd treat this entire town like Area Fifty-One." Alastor arches a finely plucked brow, unimpressed.
"The government does know about Static, but even they aren't stupid enough to take on the Devil. They tried once, back in the fifties, but Roo slaughtered most of their troops. It was all very entertaining. I had meat for months."
"Roo? Someone named after a fucking Winnie the Pooh character killed a whole bunch of US soldiers and there was no retaliation?"
"You'd probably know her better as Eve and, no, there was no retaliation. Lucifer sent them a little message to let them know exactly what they could expect if they tried to wipe the town off the map again."
"Eve? As in the first woman? Bitch that ate an apple and doomed women everywhere?"
"Second woman, actually. Lillith was the first."
"Every time I talk to you about this place, I just walk away with more questions. Why do I do this to myself?"
"You strike me as a masochist."
"You've been stricken correctly." Vox scowls as he rests his chin on his fist, trying to come up with a way to monetize the drama. That's his bread and butter, making money off other people's misery. For fuck's sake, he used to own a news station. "What about journalists in the surrounding towns?"
"Do you really think they care what goes on in a town none of them have ever been to? No one comes here who isn't supposed to be here, Vox."
"I came here."
"And you've survived admirably thus far. Very few humans pass through Static and the few who do rarely linger." Alastor sets aside his knife and washes his hands before sitting across the table from him. "Do you know how the town got its name?"
"Someone licked a television?"
"Wrong kind of static." Vox narrows his eyes, bringing up a mental rolodex of words he'd memorized for kicks. He'd been an odd kid, sue him.
"Not moving or changing. But you guys have obviously advanced the same as everyone else. You have electricity, internet, decent coffee."
"The town was officially founded in 1792 by an ambitious man named Abel Billings," Alastor lectures. "He named it after himself, naturally, and he thought it was going to be the best decision he'd ever made. He was wrong."
"Was this place built on a portal to Hell or something?"
"No, but there was a group of Wendigos in the woods that were feeling a little peckish." Alastor shrugs as though this is a totally normal coincidence. "He and his family were eaten before he could tell anyone about his new home. After him came a couple of Vampires, one of whom still lives here. He's the superintendent of the school, very sweet as long as you don't make him angry."
"Wait, hold up, Zestial's a Vampire? The tall, goth man who reached things on tall shelves for me at the grocery store last week?"
"Yes, what did you think he was?"
"A spider."
"Why?"
"Because—" Vox sputters, thinking back to him. He was tall and bald as a cue ball with big leathery wings and— "Ohhhh. Yeah, no, makes sense. Please continue."
"Zestial and his brother made a bargain with the Wendigos, they would help them lure humans to town and all of them would be kept well-fed. It went relatively well for a couple of years with a steady enough flow of humans that they weren't starving, but not so many that people grew suspicious. Then, in the 1800s, a certain Angel and his wife caught wind of the idea. Apparently enough of the victims had landed in Hell that the story spread fast.
"Lucifer didn't force the creatures to stop their hunting, even encouraged it, but he had an idea for expansion. People would grow curious about the town soon enough and we all know what happens when white people get curious about outsiders." He sends Vox a pointed look and Vox holds his hands up in a gesture of peace.
"Hey! I may be an asshole, but I'm not a racist!" Alastor doesn't look too convinced of that fact, but Vox doesn't have the energy to argue.
"Anyway, Lucifer set up some wards around the town. It would alert them to any threats, give them enough time to fight or flee. In return, other supernaturals would be welcome in the town. Zestial and the Wendigos agreed, it was a simple enough idea. Soon enough, the town was thriving, though they found themselves unchanged. Their fawns aged slowly and the adults stopped aging altogether, time seemed not to exist in their bubble. We may have technological advances, but much of the culture has remained the same."
"So you guys named it Static," Vox fills in. "Seems a bit on the nose…."
"No one will ever accuse Lucifer of being original. The man still dresses like the ringleader of a circus." Alastor scrunches up his nose in distaste. Vox has been made well aware of the rivalry between the literal founder of Hell and this jumped-up cook. You've never seen drama until you've seen these two flinging obscenities and bananas at each other in the fruit section of the grocery store.
"Fair enough."
"Dad," Velvette yells, sprinting into the kitchen. "Dad, can I go swimmin' at Charlie's house? Her dad said it was okay." She's got Vox's phone, comically large in her little hand. "Please? Pleasepleaseplease—"
"If it shuts you up, then yes. Go put your swimsuit and floaties in a bag." She does a little fist-pump and then she's running out of the kitchen again. "No running in the house!" There's a brief moment of walking, but then she hits the stairs and starts running again. At this rate, Vox's perfect home is going to have a plethora of scuff marks. He finds that he's looking forward to them.
"I heard that Stolas' little girl is staying with Charlotte as well," Alastor drawls. "They want to keep her out of this mess as much as possible. Personally, I think trauma builds character." Vox arches a brow at Alastor, unimpressed.
"You're a real fucked up guy, you know that?"
"Yep." The smile Alastor gives him has far too many yellow fangs and it should probably put Vox on edge. His fight or flight response has become pretty unreliable lately, though.
"You should look into some whitening strips, fix that janky-ass smile." Vox leaves him to stew in his emotions, taking his coffee into the parlor where Valentino is currently trying his hand at embroidery. The guy's almost legally blind, but Vox isn't going to pop that hopeful little bubble. Last time he did that, Valentino set his favorite bowtie on fire. "Our darling parasite wants to go swim at Charlie's house."
"Cool."
"Someone needs to drive her."
"Put a couple a' phone books under her and tie some blocks to her feet, she can do it herself." Vox says nothing, just lets the silence stretch out until Valentino finally puts the hoop down to meet his gaze. Valentino's is baleful, meaning he's on the verge of grabbing a lighter and a can of hairspray. Vox's is unbothered, he's got twenty fire extinguishers hidden throughout the manor. He's prepared.
Vox is the first to drop his gaze, examining his nails and ignoring the predator in front of him. He's long since stopped being afraid of Valentino. After all, it's awfully hard to fear someone once they've climbed you like a tree because they saw a grasshopper.
"Why do I have to do it," Valentino whines. "Make your twink."
"Papermint's back in California for the week."
"What about the twink in the kitchen?"
"Alastor and Lucifer don't get along."
"Oh yeah, that's why Vel couldn't have bananas in her cereal." Valentino scratches his chin, grimacing when he feels stubble. He keeps himself immaculately groomed, no unsightly hairs where they shouldn't be, no lint on his designer clothes, no mud on his heels. "Why can't you take her?"
"Because I laced my coffee."
"That's bullshit, you said we couldn't do that shit anymore."
"Suck it, bitch." Vox turns sharply on his heel and strides out of the room.
Valentino has done a lot of dumb shit for his daughter, but he never expected to be used as a jungle gym for her little friends. He stands as still as he's able, one arm bent at the elbow to support the blonde dangling from his bicep. He's got Velvette sitting on his shoulders and a dark-haired boy clinging to his leg. It's complete and utter bullshit, but his daughter's giggling so he sucks it up.
"Okay, time for little monsters to leave Mister Vee alone," Lucifer declares, clapping his hands. "Come on, the pool's nice and cold!" Blondie and the nerd release him immediately, sprinting for the pool while Velvette leans over Valentino's head to smack a kiss to his forehead and let him flip her onto her feet.
"Go on, babydoll," Valentino urges. He was just supposed to drop her off and go home again. He's got a cross stitch pattern to work on and Glee to binge.
"Would you like something to drink? Water, lemonade?" Lucifer Magne is the walking, talking definition of short king, his pale hair swept off his face with the ends flicked up in a duck's tail. He's handsome, Valentino supposes, the way people in old portraits are sometimes handsome. "Mister Vee?"
"Hm? Oh, sure. Lemonade sounds good." He sits at the patio table, chin resting on his palm as Lucifer goes to fetch their drinks. Charlie is babbling about mermaids, which is Velvette's most recent hyperfocus. Valentino's had to hear all about the different theories for the past month during bath time. Baxter is nodding along with whatever Charlie's saying, goggles sitting crooked on his head.
"Here we are!" Valentino takes the glass with a gracious smile because his mama had taught him manners, fuck you very much. "So, what do you and your husband do for a living?"
"Oh, Voxxy and I aren't married." The scrunch of Valentino's nose has Lucifer giving him an awkward smile. "What? Surely the King of Hell isn't offended by premarital sex. Or is this a homophobia thing?"
"No, no, nothing like that! I just…. I haven't spent a lot of time with other adults since the divorce. I can't really control my face." Valentino hums, taking a slow sip of the lemonade. "I'm pansexual, actually! Charlie thinks I just really like collecting pans." A huff of laughter and a muttered ah god has Valentino feeling a little sorry for the guy.
"Relax, Luci, I like to tease." He gives Lucifer a toothy smile, eyes half-lidded and body angled in the chair so that the sunlight falls across his face just so. The dark blush that colors Lucifer's face almost makes Valentino laugh. "I own a magazine and Vox mostly does tech but he's branching out into streaming."
"Really?" Valentino pulls his phone out and navigates to his folder dedicated to Vox's apps. He's got a few on there that no one else ever will, designed to make his own life better. He slides the phone across the table for Lucifer to see. "He made Angelic Security? We use that!"
"Please, for the love of my sanity, do not tell him that. There isn't enough room in our house for two giant egos and mine is more important." Truly, Valentino is extremely proud of Vox's success and he's always the first one to gush like a pre-teen with a crush whenever Vox reveals a new project.
"I know how you feel. My wife— Uh, ex-wife…. She's got a beautiful voice and she's so fucking powerful, but she tended to let that go to her head." Lucifer practically has hearts in his eyes when he talks of her, still so obviously in love. If Valentino ever looks like that, he hopes Vox will shoot him.
"Is she still in town?"
"Nah, she's been in Florida for the past four or so years." He frowns into his glass, looks like he's about to say more when the patio door slides open to reveal two newcomers. The man is tall and whip thin, dark hair streaked with gray and eyes glowing a faint red, his daughter nearly a carbon copy with her dark hair done up in pigtails. She got on a violently pink swimsuit with a flamingo floatie around her waist.
"Octavia," Velvette shrieks.
"Velvette," Octavia parrots. She barely takes the time to kick off her sandals before she's jumping into the pool. Octavia's father joins the other men at the table, offering up a polite smile.
"Sorry we're late," he apologizes. "Via couldn't find the right floatie to match her swimsuit.
"No worries, Stolas," Lucifer assures him. "Velvette and Baxter haven't been here for long."
"And goodness knows my own brat can't be expected to leave the house without all her accessories," Valentino commiserates. "She wouldn't go to dance class yesterday until I managed to get her favorite tutu down from the chandelier."
"I had to get her flamingo off the front porch's overhang."
"Ha," Lucifer laughs. "I've got you both beat! I had to get my daughter off the roof this morning." When the other two stare at him in stunned silence, Lucifer slouches in his seat. "She saw a bird and climbed out her window. We had a very long talk about safety."
"I'm not looking forward to them getting their wings."
"Yeah, it's not gonna be fun."
"Fucking wings," Valentino demands. "Gracias a la mierda humana de mi bebé." Lucifer sighs into his lemonade, taking a long drink. "I don't suppose we could add a little something to the drinks?"
"Don't you have to drive Vel home?"
"Oh yeah." Valentino doesn't slouch, but it's a close thing. Static doesn't have a very good dry cleaner and this shirt costs more than his car. "Being sober all day sucks. A few years ago, I would be higher than the moon by ten in the morning. And now? Now I'm teaching myself embroidery and taking my daughter to playdates."
"I was surprised to see you here," Stolas admits. "Usually it's your boyfriend."
"He spiked his coffee before debating things with the cook."
"You need to be drunk to deal with Alastor," Lucifer mutters. Stolas reaches over to pat Lucifer's shoulder while sharing an amused look with Valentino. It startles him, this type of connection with relative strangers. Back in LA, he only rubbed elbows with the high society crowd and he'd certainly never consider any of them close friends. Could he even name Velvette's school friends?
"School's starting soon, do we know if these four will be in the same class?"
"Oh, there's only one first grade class," Stolas says. "Maybe thirty children all told."
"Thirty? Jesus, this town really is small, isn't it? Her kindergarten class last year had over a hundred kids." Stolas makes some kind of noise, like a surprised pheasant, his red eyes going round. "I suppose I shouldn't actually be surprised, though. My graduating class was forty kids and that was considered large."
"You didn't grow up in California?"
"Nah, d'you hear that accent," Lucifer snorts. "I'm guessing somewhere in Oklahoma. There's just enough of a southern twang that says he was probably close to Louisiana or Texas." Valentino says nothing, sitting in shocked silence. "What? I'm good with accents."
"Never watch westerns with him, he makes it a miserable experience."
"None of the actors have the correct inflections!"
"It's just supposed to be entertaining, not accurate!"
"Stop arguin' about John Wayne," Octavia hollers from the pool. Her and Velvette have swapped floaties at some point, but at least none of them are drowning. "I like him in the horsey movie!" Lucifer turns in his chair so fast that it nearly tips over, probably would have if Stolas hadn't stretched a long leg out to catch it.
"I know you like the horsey movie, but his accent was atrocious."
"Your face is atrocious!"
"Stolas!"
"Why do you insist on arguing with her when she's just going to make you cry," Stolas sighs. "Turn around and drink your lemonade, dear." He looks at his daughter with a barely suppressed smile. "Don't make fun of our king, Via, he's sensitive."
"I am not!"
"You're tearing up," Valentino points out with a snicker. Lucifer flips him off with one hand while wiping tears off his cheeks with the other. Valentino tries to bite off his laugh, but it's difficult. He's never been considered nice, not even when he was a kid, and that's only grown worse with age. But now he's got a daughter to consider, her future and her comfort, and he can't exactly keep her happy if he pisses off her best friend's father.
"Aww, poor baby," Stolas teases. He leans closer to Valentino and speaks in a stage whisper. "Lucifer's always been something of a softie."
"He wouldn't survive one of my parties." The tears have been replaced by a pout better suited to the five and six year olds in the pool. Valentino grins with far too many teeth, resting his chin on his entwined fingers. "I tend to make people cry after a few lines."
"You know, I've never snorted anything."
"I could fix that, handsome." His grin softens at the edges, his voice smooth as honey as he fixes his gaze on Stolas. "I love playing with virgins." A blush colors his cheeks as Stolas ducks his head, another bird-like squawk leaving him.
"Oh, uh, no, I don't think— That— It's a very kind offer, Mister Vee, but—"
"I'm teasing, Stolas." Valentino leans back in his seat, all practiced gracefulness. "I'm sure you'd be a very fun drunk, but coke might be a step too far for you. Some people just can't handle it." He shrugs and Stolas looks a little more at ease. "Besides, can't really do fun drugs when I've got Vel around."
"Probably smart," Lucifer says. "With how high-strung these kids are I'm sure they'd become little beasts if they got into it."
"Oh, she was the worst." Lucifer snorts lemonade out of his nose and Stolas has to frantically beat his back to keep him from choking on some ice. "What? Your kids haven't found your stash yet? Lucky bitches. Had to kill my ex-wife for it and that was more of a mess than a high kid."
"You…. You killed your ex because you left your stash out for your daughter to find?"
"No, Velvette was at Anna's house for the weekend and she went on a bender." Lucifer and Stolas let out quiet oh's, nodding. The murder doesn't seem to bother them, and why should it? They're both from Hell where murder is probably a common occurrence. Good to know that he's making friends in high places for once he dies.
"How did Velvette do after her mother's death," Stolas asks haltingly.
"We took her to a counselor and now she's fine." Valentino shrugs, playing at nonchalance. The truth is that it's one of the few things Valentino feels genuinely guilty about, putting that grief in his daughter's chest like forcing a rock down her throat. She was so small back then, she didn't understand why her mama was suddenly gone.
"I've been looking into child counselors to help Via with the divorce. I thought I could ask Lucifer's opinion, but he never took Charlie to one. What did you do instead?"
"Cried with her and ate our weight in ice cream," Lucifer shrugs. "Look, we were sad and sad means ice cream. It's not my fault she couldn't tell when to stop."
"She was two, Lucifer."
"Yeah, well, now I know better. It was bad enough to get judgy eyes from my brother, I don't need it from you." Stolas glances over at Valentino, heaving a dramatic sigh.
"Jesus really was a big help back then. He looked after Charlie and he turned the WiFi off until Lucifer agreed to go to therapy."
"Alastor said Jesus was a pretty chill guy," Valentino says. He cuts his gaze to where Lucifer is pouting again. "He must'a got that from his mama, huh? 'Cause our boy here looks like he doesn't have a chill bone in his body." Lucifer squawks and Valentino can't help his cruel smile. "What's wrong, Luci? Gonna punish me?"
"Maybe I will," Lucifer drawls. He leans forward on an elbow, eyes smoldering and half-lidded. Valentino can't help the way he leans in, moth to flame, and he's only mildly disappointed when Lucifer sits back again. "Some other time, though. Can't play when the kiddos are here."
"We should see if Molly could babysit one night," Stolas proposes. "That way we could have a night out. Or even a night in. Just a night where I don't have to watch Paw Patrol on repeat. Sweet merciful Lord, anything but Paw Patrol."
"I'm partial to the Backyardigans."