Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"That's right, Big Guy! Our limited time offer ends after this holiday weekend, so make sure to swing on over to Big Shot Autos– that's BIG Shot Autos, for your chance to claim your very own Classy Classic Cherry-Red Hot Rod!! These Cungaderos are flying off the shelves faster than our manufacturers can make 'em, so don't miss out on your chance to be a BIG SHOT today!!!"

The bell blared just above the set indicating that the camera had finished recording, and Spamton let himself breathe a sigh of relief. Oh thank goodness. He wasn't sure how much longer he could handle all the heat in this stuffy suit. These stage lights were brutal.

"Alright, that was a good take. That shoot should just about do it for today."

Whew! What a relief, and from good ol' Greenie nonetheless. The one pippin in this place who always gave it to Spamton straight. None of that butter up talk. Pips' word was as good as gold as far as Spamton was concerned, and he'd take that as his cue to head out. Snapping off his jacket and tossing it over his shoulder he turned to leave.

"Hey! Spam! Wait up!"

Or– was about to leave. Turning back around, Spamton caught sight of Tenna hurrying across the lot to catch up with him and let off a resigned sigh. Looks like his apartment back in Cyber City would be collecting dust for yet another night. Although, Spamton could hardly say he was upset by the change of plans. Tenna made for quite a sight waving his hand in the air as he ran. Bobbing and weaving politely past the smaller cast and crew packing it up for the night. 

What a goof! It brought a rather unprofessional smile to his face. One Spamton swiftly corrected to his usual show stopping grin.

"Tenns– buddy," He teased, "slow down before ya break somethin'!"

Spamton let his hands slip into his pockets. Slotting his thumbs into the loops of his pants as Tenna finally made his way over. The very picturesque of cool, he was sure. The crt hunched over himself as he gasped for air, despite his lack of lungs to Spamtons' knowledge, but after a moment to catch his breath his energy was just as brimming as ever.

"I was hoping I'd catch up to you!" Tenna admitted, getting all sorts of up close and personal as he took the opportunity to lean further in, "Figured I'd ask if you were up for a little R n' R tonight?"

They were close enough for Spamton to feel Tennas' every huffed breath as it ghosted across his face. Which was far too close for his liking when they were out in public like this, but to back away now would show hesitation. Weakness. So, despite the way it set his feathers on end, Spamton… tolerated it. Even going so far as to clap his hand confidently into Tennas' shoulder just to prove he could handle all the attention this was no doubt sending their way.

"Sounds good to me." Spamton accepted, jostling the taller mans' shoulder eagerly, "Lead the way, primetime!"

Tenna did just that with a beaming grin, leading Spamton down the hall towards their dressing room. Shared as of late, considering the ease it put on dress rehearsals. It helped keep them on the same page during their performance. Tenna didn't make things easy with his strict adherence to the script and neither did Spamton with his wild card improv, but over time they'd learned to make it work. How to compromise where it counted. He'd really gotten Tenna to loosen up and roll with the punches over the past year, all while Spamton had come to see the benefits of following a teleprompt from time to time. 

In a way, Spamton supposed they sort of brought out the best in each other. Not that anyone's ever said as much of the broken addison before, but the crew often spoke like they believed it. Tenna most certainly believed it.

"~I've got the drinks!~" The man in question called out in a sing-songy tone, snapping Spamton from his thoughts as he was brought back into the now.

He realised then that he'd been standing in the doorway this whole time. Where was his head today? Plopping down into the couch just as soon as he'd scampered off towards it, Spamton let himself sink into the leather and relax before reaching up to take the offered drink. Circling the ice in his glass with a roll of his wrist he waited for Tenna to get nice and comfortable beside him before kicking his feet up into his lap.

"So," He began, before taking his first sip, "how'd it go today?"

After several refills this night was looking to end like every other they spent together. They'd laugh, slosh around a few more drinks, and once their lips were nice and loose enough to spill a few secrets Spamton would pull back– and that's when Tenna would push him to sign the damn contract. This little back and forth of will they, won't they sign the deal has gone on like this for months now and as annoying as it was, Spamton had begrudgingly gotten used to it. He was trying to hustle the man after all. It was only fair that Tenna tried to hustle him right back. Besides, their "business meetings" were actually kind of fun. 

All the inside jokes they'd trade off with one another, getting wasted on the finest booze that dark dollars could buy, and spending long hours of the night just– enjoying the hum of white noise together in comfortable silence. Spamton wasn't sure when exactly he'd flipped around to lay across Tennas' lap, or the last time he'd gotten comfortable enough with someone else not to even think about it, but from here he could make out the soft fuzz of static dotted across his screen. The light was dimmer now that Tenna was resting comfortably on the couch, and as Spamton dragged his knuckle across the plastic casing underneath his chin the crt glanced down. His head tilting off to one side with a smile that was both inviting and curious that encouraged Spamton to smirk ever so slightly.

"S'prised you haven't marketed this yet." He teased, slurring his words through a heady and comfortable buzz.

"Market what?" Tenna asked with a slight chuckle.

He sounded just as sleepy and relaxed as Spamton felt, and that managed to soften the edges of the salesmans' smile. It was nights like these that he almost didn't want to go home.

"Just– this." Spamton gestured, throwing his hands up into the air and towards the gentle glow of Tennas' screen, "You could make a [~killin’ in the name of~] airing this at night. We're talkin' [Bigger and Better than Ever–!] bucks!"

It was bad enough that the booze had gotten his words to slosh around, but not his damn speech impediment coming back to bite him in the ass. Spamton would be embarrassed if he could be bothered to care, though at the moment, his self conscious doubts were the furthest thing from his mind. Tenna tilted his head back as he rubbed his chin, humming thoughtfully in a way that had a drunken Spamton snickering in stitches.

"A program to put the audience to sleep?" He mused before covering the side of his mouth and leaning closer towards him, mistakenly directing his playful smack talk towards the addison rather than away from him, "Now I've heard of everything!"

A long and drawn out snort from Spamton finally got Tenna to break. The crt jerked forward, doubling over the smaller man in his lap as he clutched his stomach and burst out laughing. Had this happened when they'd first met this blatant mockery of his ideas would have ruffled Spamtons' feathers beyond taming, but now he couldn't help but join him. Tenna was nothing like those phonies back in Cyber World! He was laughing with him, not at him. Spamton could tell. 

Tenna always drew him in without the shame and embarrassment his former colleagues so professionally suppressed. As if he didn't notice the way the others would flinch back and groan under their breaths every time he pitched a sale with, "we have an offer". Meanwhile, Tenna welcomed Spamton as a part of every inside joke. He showed him how to win an audiences' favor and where he'd been going so wrong before. He took Spamtons' ideas and actually implemented them into the show with genuine enthusiasm! They were true partners, he and Ant. 

They had each others' backs. Teaching one another the tricks of their trades and shaping the other up to be the best they could be, and pretty soon, he and Tenna were gonna be big. Bigger than television and internet combined, and as long as everything stayed according to plan they'd be the ones calling all the shots around town! Spamton just had to stay focused. Keep his eyes on the prize and an ear on the line. Surely he could do that much without doing something stupid like falling off track and getting distracted, right? 

Tennas' hand slid just underneath the salesman scooping him up off the couch, and before he knew it that screen was getting closer. Spamtons' breath hitched. Static fluffing the black downy feathers of his crown as one of Tennas' thumbs brushed tenderly against his cheek, drawing Spamtons' focus towards the light.

"Besides," Tenna went on to say, with a smile so coy and sweet, "I think I'd rather reserve tonights' performance exclusively for our special guest."

Spamton forced out a laugh, trying desperately to keep the mood from shifting. No. No. No. Not again! Being this intimate out in public was downright uncomfortable, but when they were alone–… it was difficult not to sink so comfortably against Tennas' touch when they were alone.

"That's–" Spamton began, gulping down the sudden dryness in his throat, "a hell of a way to [Fish Tanks On Sale For $4.99] the ratings, don't you think Cathode?" 

Spamton pressed Tennas' fingers down as he lifted himself up from the crts' palm. If he wasn't careful he'd start melting right into Tennas' hands, and that brilliant rgb glow cascading over him wasn't helping. The first time Spamton had registered it as a blush had left him brimming with confidence. He'd done that, he'd thought. The very pinnacle of entertainment himself swooning over him. It felt like an accomplishment. 

Now it just made Spamton feel stupid. For the way that giddy smile rendered him completely flustered and speechless.

"I don't know," Tenna countered, teasing and playful as his thumb traced circles against his cheek, "I'd say the audience is plenty captivated. Wouldn't you agree, Spammy?"

His benefactor had warned him of this. That Tenna would distract him from his goal. Lead him astray into the bowels of poverty and failure. So when they first started their partnership Spamton was careful to keep that in mind. Always keeping Tenna at a firm distance. It was easy enough at first. 

Tenna wasn't exactly subtle about his goals and neither was he. They were businessmen after all. They were both just using one another to get what they wanted, so it was fine. He just had to stay ahead of the game and not let himself get played. However, somewhere down the line things began to change. Spamton wasn't sure who started it but, between all the late nights spent talking about anything but business as they sat closer and closer next to one another on the couch, one thing led to another he supposed.

His room back in Queens' mansion had seen less use over these past couple of weeks but, in his defense, why should he even bother? When Tennas' flat was just a flight of stairs above the studio. He never minded anyway right, so what was the big deal? Never in Spamtons' entire life has he felt as welcome as he did on set, and not just because of Tenna strangely enough. It was difficult for Spamton to admit it, but Cyber City hasn't felt like home in a long time– Tv World however, did. The weather duo, the pippins and everyone else here… they actually looked forward to seeing him. 

Angel preserve him for thinking like this but, Spamton was almost beginning to doubt his generous benefactor. He knew he shouldn't be so ungrateful, not after everything that been given him. His career, his connections, the improved control over his voice, but the studio crew were the first real friends Spamton had ever had– and with Tenna hopefully something even more. How could he possibly be expected to choose? Why did the climb to the top have to be so lonely? 

Couldn't he… couldn't he just have both? All he's ever wanted was freedom, and having to make a choice between happiness and success hardly felt free at all. Just another instance of him being forced down someone elses' path rather than forging his own. Looking up, Spamton found Tenna staring down at him with such fondness as his thumb lightly continued to caress his cheek. Simply enjoying the moment they were sharing together. His eyes clung to the screen and seeing that smile so soft, so fuzzy and sweet staring back at him, Spamton realized Tenna was right. 

He truly was captivated. 

"Yeah." He agreed, "I guess I am."

Spamton took a hold of Tennas' face, enjoying the tingly buzz of static that danced along his thumb as it glided across the glass, and noticed the rgb glow of his cheeks shine even brighter at the unexpected gesture. Tenna was likely under the impression that Spamton didn't like to get up close and personal, which was only partially true. He didn't mind if it was just him and Ant. Chuckling somewhat nervously, Tenna tried to break the sudden tension.

"What's gotten into–?"

Before he could lose his nerve Spamton leaned in for a kiss. It was embarrassing just how much he was shaking. He hardly felt like the suave and cocky salesman the crt had likely fallen for at the moment, but the way Tenna melted into the kiss regardless told Spamton that maybe he didn't have to be. The hungry kiss of tongues and teeth he'd been expecting didn't come to pass but if he could be honest with himself, this gentle sensation of thoughtful tenderness was enough. The softest of hums tingled across Spamtons' lips as Tenna smiled into the kiss and the reaction was outright infectious. Months, literal months spent thinking about what this would feel like, and it was better than Spamton could have ever imagined. 

Tenna pulled away, to Spamtons' dismay as he began to follow after him before the man spoke up.

"Is– is this okay?" He asked, concern raising his brows followed by an unsure frown, "I-I didn't read into that, right?"

Spamton was dumbfounded. Even now, Tennas' first thought was whether or not he was okay?

"I kissed you." Spamton reminded him, his tone riddled with disbelief.

"I know! I just–… wasn't sure if I made you feel like you had to."

Spamton didn't know if his face could burn any hotter, but as Tenna kept voicing his own silent concerns and shattering them into tiny pieces it did just that.

"You didn't." Spamton insisted as he shook his head, "I've wanted to."

"Are you sure? Because it's okay if you don't– wait." Tenna paused suddenly, "What did you say?"

Spamton cringed as he tucked his head down into his shoulders and looked away. Saying it once was hard enough. Was Tenna really going to make him say it again?

"I–" He tried, finding the words sticking in the back of his throat as he forced his gaze to meet back up with Tennas', "I've… wanted to do this. For a [Long Lasting, Money Back Guarantee!!] time."

Spamton flinched as the ad forced its way onto him all while Tenna hardly reacted at all. Even now the lack of a barely held snicker from the crt always surprised him. Spamton usually leaned into the tic and smiled, especially for the camera, and folks just ate it right up– but not Tenna. It's been that way from the beginning, when Spamton first opened up to him about how frustrating it was to deal with, and no one's so much as smirked at him off set for it since. Before that day, no one had ever bothered to ask how it made Spamton feel. How anything made him feel. 

"Oh Spammy,"

Tenna pinched his thumb and forefinger under Spamtons' jaw and pressed his lips against his cheek, and his growth in size compared to earlier left the whole right side of the salesmans' face completely kissed. It was an interesting sensation to say the least, and left Spamton feeling uncharacteristically flustered.

"You should have told me." Tenna added.

Hoochie Mama if that wasn't the sort of kiss Spamton could die happy with!

"I was gettin' to it… eventually." He insisted.

It was hard to think with his gaze forced to linger on the larger than life host. Spamton was quite literally in the palm of Tennas' hand knowing full well that there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be. Suddenly he froze. Nowhere else… he'd rather be. Above him Tenna was talking a mile a minute with his other hands as they pointed and gestured excitedly, the additional arms springing out from his sides as he gushed away without a care. Positively going on about something or other over how happy he was and slowly, as the words sank into his heart and mind, Spamtons' brows began to furrow with determination.

"–and when Lanino and Elnina first started dating everyone already knew, but nobody wanted to make a thing of it until they were ready, you know? Image and all that. But the celebration party when they finally came out with it was sooo much fun! Gosh Spam, you would have loved it! I think I even still have the streamers Pip made. They were these cute blue and yellow flags with little clouds and suns cut out of them! I wonder if he'll make us some streamers like that– ahh! That is– if you and I go public! And we absolutely don't have to. Show biz an' all! I get it! SO–!"

Spamton placed his hand over Tennas' mouth. Not harshly, just enough for him to take the hint, and take the hint he did. The moment Spamtons' hand touched his lips Tenna fell silent. A nervous energy began to build as he readied himself for the decision he was about to make. Spamton wasn't used to thinking with his heart. Angel above, please don't let him regret this.

"Tenna. I wanna sign the contract."

He remained silent, even as Spamtons' hand fell away from him, leaving a frown in its' place

"You're not doing this just because of the contract, are you?"

Tenna looked disgusted as he asked and Spamton balked at the idea. He's gone and done some underhanded things to get ahead in his career, but faking a genuine connection with someone else was far from them. By far the worst he's done was lie about the effectiveness of his scrubbing pads. Those weird smiley do-dads were hardly as perfect as his sales pitch claimed them to be. However they did bring joy to those that used them… theoretically. That depended on whether or not his customers wanted their cleaning tools to laugh at them. 

Which, according to the lack of sales, they did not.

"What– no! I wouldn't [Ruined carpets? Call–] what we have over that. I'm ready to [Make or Break it!–] the choice. I wanna [Guaranteed or Your Money Back!]–" Spamton shook his head.

Why was his tic so out of control all of a sudden?

"N-no. I… I wanna [House Insurance in Case of a Fire]– No!" He forced out, stopping himself again.

Damn it. Spamton dipped his head down low as he gripped his feathers in frustration. Not now! Not when this was so important!

"I." He began, hissing breaths through his teeth, his voice strained with every ounce of effort he had, "Want– [Personalized Engravings of Your Vows For That Special Day]– NO!!"

Just as Spamton felt a few of his feathers break loose between his fingers, Tennas' hands, so much smaller than they were before, gently pried them away.

"Don't hurt yourself, Spam. Please." He urged, with just about the softest voice Spamton had ever heard from the boisterous host, "I think I know what you're trying to say. You want to make a promise. Is that right?"

Spamton nodded, embarrassed now that he'd gone and made a fool of himself over nothing.

"A promise– to…?" 

Tenna appeared hopeful, seeming to already know, but even then he wouldn't say it. That was alright. Spamton could answer the question just fine on his own with a single word.

"Stay."

He wasn't sure how his benefactor would take this decision but, one way or another, it was his to make. Consequences be damned. Above him Tenna smiled.

"Alright Spammy," He remarked, perking up a little more as he stood to his feet, "let's do this!"

Carrying the smaller salesman over towards his desk, Tenna didn't need to fish out the papers. By this point Spamton knew exactly where he kept them. Second drawer from the left. The same drawer, he couldn't help but notice, that Tenna kept all the little trinkets, gifts, and photos of the two of them Spamton had given him. Just how many of those nose flowers had he stuffed in there anyways? Tenna was such a sap but sweet heavens above, seeing just how much random junk had littered that drawer from all the stupid bobbles he'd felt compelled to give him, Spamton realized so was he. 

The clauses and conditions were all the same. Spamton had memorized each section verbatim. The terms he'd highlighted in the last draft that he'd wanted amended had in fact been adjusted, as requested. The contract was solid, without so much as an inch of wiggle room for either of them. Once Spamton signed these papers that was it. He'd be an official member of the cast, permanently, and Tenna would be told everything about what made Spamton such a big shot success overnight.

After looking over the contract and finding everything in order, Spamton grabbed the papers and the closest pen scattered on the desk, then took a breath. There was a nervous shake to his hands, only tempered by a hopeful smile, as he signed his name just under Tennas'. When the deed was done he looked back up to find his new co-host staring back at him with disbelief. Only for a moment or two, before Tennas' face broke out into a wide smile. Then, in an instant, Spamton was scooped into a spine crushing smile.

"Oh Spammy!!" He gushed, eagerly rocking the salesman in a hug with all four of his arms from side to side, "This is gonna be the start of an incredible new chapter for us!! I'm so happy!!!"

Wow! Not even two seconds into their new partnership and this guy was going to kill him!

"I'm– [~Happiness, is a warm gu–] too– Ant–" Spamton struggled to grunt out.

Spamtons' attempts to wiggle his way out as he kicked his legs hardly got it through that thick boxy head that Tenna was crushing the smaller man so, after coming to accept how useless the effort was, he resigned himself to the all encompassing hug with a sigh. Just this once. Next time he was gonna give this boobtube a piece of his mind for manhandling him like some nine ninety nine dollar plushie but, for now, he could let himself sink into all those arms with a soft hidden smile. That is, until the distinct echo of a ring shot across the too quiet halls. Spamton flinched, eyes suddenly shot wide as his breath caught in his chest. His benefactor… 

The phone rang again, and just like that he could feel Tennas' arms loosening.

"Oh! Speak of the devil, ha ha!" He teased as he set Spamton back down.

His feet clicked against the tile far too loudly as he shuffled his feet.

"I'd–" 

Spamton gulped, his throat suddenly all too dry. Was he– scared? Why? The phone rang again.

"I'd uh– better go get that."

"Alright." Tenna accepted, sounding somewhat hesitant himself now, "Just swing by the office afterwards. We still have a lot to discuss, you know."

Spamton nodded, and the phone rang again. It rang through the hall. As he turned over towards the next room. As he passed Elnina and Lanino finally making their way home for the night parting with a friendly wave thrown his way, and up until he finally made it to his old dressing room. By that point the phone had already gone off seven whole times and even then it just kept ringing. Entering the room Spamton stood back as the door creaked open and watched it go for an eighth.

Just over a year ago if Spamton had heard this damn thing ring even once he would have shoved anyone who so much as breathed next to his landline into the ground. Although lately, the answers he once fought tooth and nail for were seldom to be found. Replaced instead with confounding and ominous prophecies that left him more and more hesitant to answer every call that came. Striding inside, after an absent moment spent aimlessly wiggling his fingers over the phone, Spamton lifted the receiver. Cutting the line off just at the tenth ring. He knew full well not to bother with a greeting. 

Instead, Spamton pressed the receiver to his ear and waited for his benefactor to speak. The ambiance of the background always unnerved him. Something of a roaring hum, quietly getting louder only to retreat back into the distance before he could make out what it was saying, and it was all the more noticeable now through the silence. There was never breathing on the other end of the line. Only his own as it picked up speed.

"The Little puppet reluctantly answers the phone."

Spamton hated that nickname, though he hoped his benefactor hadn't noticed. He forced a smile against the receiver.

"Well– I'm sure you already know I–"

"Though he has already made his choice."

Why did that sound so final? Was he cutting Spamton off from the deal!?

"W-wait!? We can talk about this! N-no need to go making any rash decisions, right?!"

The roaring echo in the distance stretched between a long pause of silence, whispering words he could recognize if Spamton focused hard enough, before it was broken by a curious hum.

"The little puppet begs. He pulls on his own strings, not knowing the tangles he has made for himself."

Was this just another creepy riddle or an actual prophecy? It was getting harder and harder to tell with each call. Spamton desperately hoped for the former.

"However…" The voice on the line added, "before they part, he is given a gift."

Spamton knew a severance package when he heard one. Not that he's ever gotten one, but at least that meant the gravy train was ending on a good note, right? Angel above, Spamton hoped Tenna wouldn't kill him for this. He swallowed nervously, pressing the receiver close before he spoke into the phone again.

"Alright. Lay it on me, I guess… heh heh…"

Spamton waited. There were no words. Only the continued echo of noise in the background. Straining to hear it left him with a growing headache so he pressed his fingers against his forehead to try and relieve the pressure, and when he closed his eyes that's when he saw it. Everything. Possibilities– far too great in number, danced as visions across his mind as Spamton saw every possible scenario. 

An eviction notice. A thorn ring that granted power for pain. A metal body that was larger than everything. His own hand sinking down into the depths of the free pool followed by a series of green neon strings. They wrapped around his every joint, finger, and limb, strangling him until he was severed into little plastic pieces. Spamton felt himself falling, his broken body raining down along with all of his furniture until every last part of him landed harshly inside of a lone dumpster.

He reached his hand once again up to Heaven, only for the lid above him to slam shut. Leaving Spamton alone in the dark. He opened his eyes with a gasp, his hand clawing into his chest as he struggled to breathe and sweat trickled down his face. Was… was that his future? Is this because he stepped out of line? Or did his benefactor always know this would happen? 

Did he ever even have a choice at all? As the silence grew, to Spamtons' surprise, he realized he could almost make out what sounded like words coming from the roaring. 

" ....-b-y-.... -b-l-a-d-e-.... " It hissed, a harsh whisper that grated in his ear.

Spamton honed in on the distant voice and focused. If there was something else– anything else in his future, then he had to know. It couldn't just be this!

" ....-t-h-e-....-l-o-r-d-.... -o-f-....-s-c-r-e-e-n-s-.... "

It didn't take long for it to suddenly click just who that title was for; Tenna.

" ....-c-l-e-a-v-e-d-....-r-e-d-...." Spamtons' eyes grew teary and wide, "....-b-y-....-b-l-a-d-e-.... "

Choking back a sob, Spamton pressed his shaking hand up against his mouth. No no no! Not Tenna. Please! Sweet Heaven above not him!

"The little puppet runs out the door, and does not look back."

Spamton lost his grip on the receiver, and even as he stepped back from the phone he could still hear the chanting prophecy. Tenna. Tenna was going to die, and there wasn't anything he could do to change it. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't stand by and watch as it happened. He… he needed to leave– to run, as far away as he could and never look back. 

Spamton turned on his heel, bolting at full speed for the door until he bumped into whatever had decided to block it.

"Whoa, hey! Where's the fire, Spams?"

Spamtons' head jerked up. Standing before him was a rapidly shrinking Tenna, now clearly aware that something was the matter as he watched the man sputter and shake. Glancing around him, Spamton desperately tried to slide past Tenna before he could see him–

"Have you been crying?"

Before… that. Spamton quickly brought his arm up to his eyes in a hasty effort to wipe his face.

"N-no." He insisted as he shook his head, "Haven't been– I've gotta– there's a– I can't–"

Spamton couldn't bear to look at him. Please don't make him look– please. Angel above, don't burn that hurt naive face into his mind before he had to go. Before he lost everything all over again. It was bad enough when the addisons didn't wait up after he packed his bags. Spamton didn't want to relive it all again with someone that actually gave a damn about him.

Tenna carefully grabbed a hold of him, his hands shrunken down just enough to wrap around his arms.

"Breathe," He urged, dragging the word out slowly.

Spamton could hear Tenna trying to set an example just above him. Taking each breath slowly both in and out, and despite the way he tensed from being held, Spamton did his best to follow Tennas' lead. He could still hear the prophecy repeating like a mantra over and over in his head no matter how many times he tried to shake it out. It was a deafening whisper he was sure would always scratch at the back of his mind now.

"The Lord of Screens cleaved red by blade?" 

Spamton jolted. That wasn't the voice in his head saying that just now.

"Spamton– what are you saying?" Tenna asked, concern etched into his words that wrang Spamtons' heart right out.

He couldn't tell him! Tenna could never know! He can never– Suddenly, Spamton felt his chin being tipped upwards by Tennas' hand, forcing him to face the man head on. All his fears, all his confusion, and all his doubts were reflected back at him through the crts' blank screen. A blank screen cased with Tennas' own worry. 

"Spamton. What happened with that phone call?"

There was nowhere to hide from that all encompassing gaze and, despite the situation, Spamton still found comfort in that. For the most part. He was still terrified of telling Tenna the truth, but it wasn't like he could ignore him. Guess the cat's outta the bag.

"I–..." Spamton forced himself to take in a deep breath as he took a hold of Tennas' hand, "there's something we [Need It Want It Gotta Have It!!] to talk about."

After letting himself sink down into the floor, with Tenna soon following, Spamton told him everything. At first, Tenna was hesitant to believe that the man on the phone was hardly a man at all but rather… something else that could hardly be explained. A prophetic voice that had apparently chosen Spamton on a whim. He admitted he didn't know why he was chosen. A part of Spamton believed it was because he was special. The one addison who was meant for bigger and better things and could rightfully see that, but now he wasn't so sure. 

It was beginning to sound more like a convenience than anything else the longer he went on. A disheartening realization, but relieving in a way. Maybe this could have happened to anybody? 

"It always felt like I had to work [Ten Times Better Results!!] harder than everyone else. Especially with this [Imbecile!] [It's a figure of speech!] impediment! No matter what I [Who Comes Up With This Stuff?] it never seemed to matter. There was always [~Don't you want somebody to love?~] who could [Do It To It!] better. No one's ever wanted what I had to [Exclusive Offer in Stores Only]."

Over time, Tennas' skeptical glare softened into something closer to sympathy. Spamton wished he could offer him more than hearsay but the thought of touching that phone, him or anyone else for that matter, left his chest tightening. However Tenna still hadn't even bothered to ask what it was that the voice had to say. Instead, for whatever reason, choosing to confound him with a completely separate question.

"Is that why you always hide your sketchbook?"

Of all the things he could have possibly asked him, Tenna chose that?

"I mean. I saw the car sketches." He added quickly, his tone slightly awkward now that the smaller man seemed confused, "Your Cungaderos, right? You like to draw the prototypes for the new models in your sketchbook. It's all so very detailed. I always thought that was amazing! I've… I've always wanted to learn. How to draw, I mean."

Was he trying to cheer Spamton up? Why? Shouldn't he be furious right now?

"You–... you realize this means I have [No Money Down!!] to offer you, right?" He warned, terrified knowing he'd be thrown away soon enough, "All those [Company Trademarked Secrets] weren't mine. I can't [~Give it to me baby~] you a thing on my own. Not without…"

Spamton glanced back towards the phone and as Tennas' gaze followed they listened to the droning dial tone together. After keeping his mouth perfectly shut for so long, it was almost comforting knowing he didn't have to sit with the weight of all of this alone. A selfish thought on his part Spamton was aware. One in a long list of many. Sliding his leg up off the floor Tenna caught Spamtons' attention as he perched his hand onto his knee and readied himself to stand.

"Just tell me one thing." He asked.

"Anything." Spamton answered.

"... Was that prophesy about me?"

Spamton hesitated, only for a moment, then wordlessly nodded his head. Tenna let off a thoughtful hum before he stood to his feet, and Spamton couldn't bear to watch him pick up the phone. He had no right to take that choice from him, not after everything he'd done for the sake of gaining his own freedom, but the thought of Tenna seeing anything half as horrifying as Spamton had been forced to see for himself, he… he couldn't. He buried his head into his knees, breathing sharply as his fingers dug into his scalp. The roaring whisper grew louder and louder in his ears and just as soon as he was sure he'd heard as much of it as he could take it hushed with a soft click. Startled by the sudden silence, Spamton lifted his head to see that Tenna had hung up the phone. 

"It's been a long day." He relayed between an exhausted exhale, "And we've got another busy one coming up tomorrow."

Tenna turned to face him with a smile Spamton was sure he'd never see again. 

"Why don't I take you home?"

Just as nervous as it was unsure, Spamton felt a hopeful smile tug along his own face.

"You uh, mind if I [Crash Test Dummies] at your place?" He asked,

Tenna offered up his hand and Spamton was all too relieved to take it.

"Not at all. Actually," 

Tennas' soft anxious chuckle broke through the tension in the air. 

"I was hoping you'd ask." He admitted.

He didn't want to throw him out. Fate be damned. Despite everything, Tenna still wanted to keep him. It wasn't until Tenna made a startled noise above him that Spamton had even realized he'd moved. Going from holding his hand to wrapping his arms around Tennas' legs as tightly as he could. It wasn't long before he felt those hands carefully pressing along his back, and for now, everything was okay. 

They were going to be okay.

Chapter Text

"Alright. Just swing by the office afterwards. We still have a lot to discuss, you know." Tenna reminded him.

Spamton turned back with a nod, and a startlingly harrowing glance, and then he was gone. Leaving Tenna alone with his thoughts– and what thoughts they were. He didn't look too happy just now. Was Spamton upset? Did Tenna say something wrong? No–! ... no. 

He's rehearsed this dozens of times and the moment it all finally happened was even better than he could have hoped for! So… why was he so unsure of himself all of a sudden? In an anxious fit Tenna felt the cord of his hidden tail wrap against his leg as he did his best to soothe himself. Spamton would tell him if he crossed a line, wouldn't he? He certainly did the first time Tenna crouched down to speak to him. 

"Don't you think it's kinda demeaning to talk to a grown adult that way? With your [Hands Down!!] on your knees like you're Santa handing out presents?"

Tenna never would have even thought about something like that before Spamton brought it up, and there was a noticeable relief among the cast and crew once he'd stopped doing it. Ever since that day people started talking to him more. Going so far as to go out of their way to flag him down. The difference was practically night and day! Spamton explained it as him being approachable now that he wasn't so intimidating. Which was odd, considering Tenna had thought he was less intimidating when he bent down but, apparently not.

Which begged the question; was Spamton intimidated now? Did he, in fact, go too far? What if Spamton was lying just to make him feel better?… Ah. No. No, Spamton would never do that.

Tenna's gotten more than enough of his fair share of harsh truths from the sharp witted mailman to know that much and, for a brief moment, the memories brought about an irritated flick from the end of his tail. Although… he has been a touch softer with his critiques ever since Tenna had brought up just how hurtful they could be… So was Spamton lying to save face? Because he felt like he had to? Oh goodness! This whole situation was one big giant mess!

Soon began the pacing as Tennas' second pair of arms wrapped around himself, and the crt shrank lower with each back and forth step. The joy from before took a back seat to the anxiety clawing its way out of his chest. Tenna could feel the wheels of his vhs heart spinning wild the longer he let his thoughts wander, threatening to unravel the spool of film completely. What was the voice on the other end of the line saying now? Were they finally telling Spamton the truth? That he could do so much better than let himself get stuck with a washed up has-been of yesterday?

After all, what good was his life advice compared to a speed dial with all the answers? In the face of a changing world, old Tennas' wisdom was the first thing anyone with common sense would disregard. How could he even hope to compete with someone that knew everything– but wait a minute. That was all about to change now, wasn't it? That's… that's right! Spamton he– he signed the contract, he was trusting him with his secret! 

Tennas' tail wagged excitedly anew. He didn't have to stay in here while Spamton took his call. They were partners now! Everything official on the dotted line! He could– he could just join him! Growing a rapid few inches as his face lit up with a smile Tenna rushed out the door and headed straight for Spamtons' old dressing room, otherwise known as the Z-rank room.

Oh golly, to think Spamton was so gosh darn terrible at the show that he had to renovate his room just to try and cheer him up. The crew were nice enough to offer to help him but Tenna wanted to do things himself for once. It… didn't look great. What with its lopsided posters and tacky streamers. However, Spamton hardly seemed to mind. In fact, the little mailman looked rather proud of himself for getting his own special ranking, even if it was for being the worst.

"That just makes me the [Best In The Tri-State Area!!] at being the worst, cathode!"

Thinking back to the first genuine cackley laugh Spamton had fully let loose that day had Tennas' cheeks glowing like nothing else. Spamton would always try to cover his mouth when he caught himself doing it ever since, but Tenna's never known why. That laugh sounded downright gorgeous to him. On his way down the hall Tenna crossed paths with the infamous weather duo, looking a tad unsettled as they spoke with one another in hushed whispers. Elnina glanced his way for a brief moment after having noticed him only to quickly wipe her frown with a smile.

"Oh, hey boss! We were just heading home for the night." She explained.

"That's–... um."

Tenna tried to carry a casual conversation, but the faint trace of worry on Laninos' brow was difficult to ignore.

"Are you two okay? Is something the matter. You… look a little pale there."

Elnina and Lanino looked between themselves in a slight panic before Lanino tried to wave it away.

"W-what? No!" He did his best to assure, still nervously waving his hand, "We're just… we're just…"

His hand slowed down ever so slightly but didn't fully stop until Elnina gently moved it back down.

"We're worried about Mr. Spamton." She finished, apparently revealing the truth as Lanino gawked at her, "He seemed… troubled as we passed him just now."

Lanino sighed, apparently resigning himself to spilling the beans

"It's the phone again." He added.

Tenna forced himself to perk up, despite his nerves coming back in full swing. He couldn't let his crew go taking on his problems. 

"I know. I was just about to join him actually."

The both of them stared up at him with wide eyes and hesitant smiles.

"Does– does that mean you two signed the contract?" Elnina asked, her hands clasped in anticipation.

The pair shared a look of surprise, but why should they be? It's only been… almost an entire year… All well. Good things come to those who wait, and Tenna's been waiting on those secrets for long enough.

"That's right! Things are gonna change around here! Spamton and Tennas' TV Time is just a day away from its very first broadcast, so stay tuned!"

While Lanino clapped his hands, Elnina seemed less enthused. Noticing the attention being shown her way she stepped forward with her thoughts.

"You'll make a great team boss." Elnina assured, "Just as long as you remember; a duo is always better when they're together. Mr. Spamtons' highs are your highs now. And so are his lows."

As Tenna looked between them Lanino was nodding in agreement. The word of one was generally the word of the other, after all. 

"Wow! You guys should really consider signing up for that dating advice special for the five o' clock block. The offer still stands, you know. Oh! And I'll be sure to keep that in mind." He quickly promised, remembering what that advice was even for in the first place. 

Stepping around the two Tenna jerked his thumb over his shoulder just behind him.

"I'm gonna go catch up with Spams and introduce myself while the iron's hot." He remarked as he began walking backwards, "See you two on the news!"

Tenna didn't wait up for their parting words as he continued down the hall. This was all just too exciting! After so many years of gradual stagnation he was finally going to get some answers! He was going to be on Spamtons' league, right up there with the big shots! Just him and Spam against the world! Something he's wanted for goodness knows how long but it was all finally happening!

The door to the dressing room was opened by just the faintest crack, letting the light from within pour before him down the dark hall. Were he directing a horror movie the setting would be perfect, but as it was, Tenna was hardly thrilled with the foreboding atmosphere. He could hear sounds as he drew closer, tugging his eager smile down somewhat with a cautious wobble. There wasn't talking like he'd been expecting, but rather… crying? Wait, Spamton was– Was he hearing that right? 

The smile that had gradually been slipping from Tennas' face dropped completely as he rushed for the door. His thoughts coming to a screeching halt as those choked sobs drowned out everything. He scrambled to pull it open only for someone else already in the midst of doing the same. That someone being Spamton who suddenly bumped into his chest with an unexpected and heavy thud.

"Whoa, hey! Where's the fire, Spams?" Tenna called out, jolted by the frantic mess that was his co-star.

Spamton looked up at him, and the terror in his eyes brought the spool of his heart to a screeching halt. It was like he'd seen a ghost. He was stuttering at a mile a minute as he tried to get past him and seeing no delicate way of putting it, Tenna just outright asked Spamton if he'd been crying. The mailman paused for a brief moment, only to swiftly deny it. Furiously wiping his eyes as his gaze lingered on anywhere else but him… Why won't he look at him?

Taking up his arms, desperate to be seen in a way he craved from seldom anyone else, Tenna urged Spamton to at the very least listen to him.

"Breathe,"

Spamton went rigid in his hands. Becoming tense from his head down to his toes. Tenna knew he hated being grabbed like this, he didn't have to say it when it was so obvious, but he didn't know what else to do. He'd hug him properly if he knew for sure Spamton wouldn't try to claw his way out of his arms. So instead, he let his own rushed breathing simmer down into a more relaxed rhythm, hoping to guide Spamton into copying him. It seemed to be working but along with his steadier breathing, Spamton had begun to mumble… something. 

Tenna wasn't sure just what until he focused and listened in.

"–blade.-the-lord-of-screens-cleaved-red-by-blade.-the-lord-of-screens-cleaved-red-by-blade.-the-lord-of-screens–"

What– what was that supposed to mean, and why did it sound so ominous? Tenna repeated the weird phrase curiously and the moment it fell out of his mouth Spamton jumped.

"Spamton–" He began, a little hesitant to even ask before he forced himself to finish, "what are you saying?"

In response, Spamton stared down into the floor. Avoiding his gaze entirely for a second time. For a brief moment Tenna couldn't help himself as he stared past Spamtons' shoulders and over towards the phone. He could see the receiver dangling from its cord an inch or two off the floor as the dial tone filled the empty space of the room. He knew the answers to all his burning questions were right there, just waiting for him to pick up the phone and take them. Then he looked back down, finding in his arms a man once larger than life itself looking so lost, alone, and small. 

Tenna took a hold of Spamtons' chin, tilting it towards him so he could see his face, and the fear and pain that greeted him ate at his heart in a way he couldn't put into words. He asked again what had happened, and that's when Spamton broke down. Tearing himself right out of his hands with a jerk.

"The deal's off."

Tenna let those words sink for a moment as Spamton walked over towards the adjacent wall. He slumped back with a harsh thud, sliding down as he plopped himself for a seat onto the floor.

"What do you mean? With– with us?" He asked, raising his voice slightly as he pressed his hands into his chest.

That hardly made sense, considering he just signed the contract. Tenna refused to believe that was it, so he joined Spamton on the ground. Intent on getting to the bottom of this.

"No." He clarified, clearly frustrated, "My beni– [Friend]. He's [It Slices! It Dices! It Chicken Fried Rices!] me off– for good."

Well now that's just awfully convenient isn't it?

"So, what, he's refusing to talk to you?" Tenna snapped with disbelief.

"Not… exactly."

"Spamton, you're not making any sense–"

"I know!" He cut off suddenly, thrusting his hand forward before slumping right back against the wall and letting out a sigh, "I know."

Taking that same hand, Spamton slicked his loose feathers back against his head. Smoothly at first, just settling them back down, before his fingers began to drag against his scalp. Tenna watched in muted shock as Spamtons' claws dug deeper. Intent on penetrating the skin, and it wasn't until the growing wince on his face that Tenna suddenly snapped out of his stupor. He took the smaller mans' hand away with a forceful tug. His panic having gotten the better of him in the moment as his own hand shook with a surge of adrenaline. 

Was hurting himself practically second nature if no one stopped him? For how long? Sure he's noticed how Spamton gets when he's stressed once or twice, earlier tonight even, but has it ever been this bad before? Tenna took Spamtons' hand in his own, and with all the care he could muster now that his hands were small enough, he massaged the tense palm between his thumbs. Carefully kneading the muscle between the bones. They sat in silence together as Tenna focused on working into the delicately tiny hand and after a while Spamton shuffled closer before leaning against him.

"The voice told me [Everything Must Go!!]." He spoke once he seemed to collect himself, "Things I always thought I [Want to Know More? Click The Link Below!!]. Long forgotten [Trinkets for your Dad!], the secret to gaining [Hate your [[$9.99]] Life? Become Your Own Boss Today!!], my future. But… it's a [No! STOP!! Please, don't take my furniture!!]]. A horrible, awful nightmare."

The way Spamton was beginning to curl into himself again had Tenna tenderly tugging his other hand closer. He wouldn't let Spamton hurt himself again. Tenna wanted to be supportive but, at the same time, he just couldn't get over the insanity the other was telling him as he balked down at the man.

"Wait-wait-wait– your future? Are you saying the voice on the phone was telling you the future?"

Spamton began to shake his head frantically.

"Not just my [Coming Soon– To a Theater Near You]– but everyone's." He explained, "It's the p– [[HYPERLINK BLOCKED]]"

At the abrupt and frankly rather loud cut off, Spamton suddenly slapped his hands over his mouth. That was– certainly a new word. Tenna's never heard him say that one before. After a moment Spamton, almost gingerly, peeled back his hands.

"The– [[HYPERLINK BLOCKED]]–"

Only for it to happen again.

"[[HYPERLINK BLOCKED]]"

Tenna wasn't sure what was going on with his tic, or why it was suddenly so bad, but whatever the case he still had questions.

"So… what you're saying is, a sightseer chose you to relay the future to? Is that what I'm meant to believe?"

He couldn't help but be at least a little skeptical. After all what happened, really? Did Spamton just pick up a phone one day and magically get all the answers– just like that?!

"Well," He began, "I was [Taking a Stroll] home one day. After a bad shift. A bad [Weak Knees?] bad month– just… a bad [Lifetime Guarantee!!!] I guess. And then, out of the [Feelin' Blue?],"

No.

"I– received a [Call The Number On Your Screen Today!!]."

It really was just like that.

"I don't know [~Tell me why~] I was chosen." Spamton added, surprising Tenna with the blunt admission, "[Compared to The Competition], I've never measured up."

He knew Spamton didn't come from success. That he wasn't born into the role he'd carved for himself. It was something that always fascinated him about Spamton. Tenna knew from the moment he was plugged into the Dreemurr household what he was meant to be. An entertainer. One that was fun for the whole family. 

It was his purpose in life. The only thing he was ever built to do, but Spamton– he defied purpose. He spat in the very face of the forces that forged them in the darkness and dared to reach towards the light. Tenna knew he could never do the same, that seldom trodden road was hardly the path for him, but that only made him admire Spamton even more.

"It always felt like I had to work [Ten Times Better Results!!] harder than everyone else." He went on to say, "Especially with this [Imbecile!] [It's a figure of speech!] impediment! No matter what I [Who Comes Up With This Stuff?] it never seemed to matter. There was always [~Don't you want somebody to love?~] who could [Do It To It!] better. No one's ever wanted what I had to [Exclusive Offer in Stores Only]."

Spamton was a lot of things, but a smooth liar was not one of them. At least, now that Tenna has gotten to know him over the past several months. That too taut grin and cheeky wink were nowhere to be found as his gaze burned a hole into the floor and neither were the nervous chuckles or his tapping fingers. Not even the honey-sweet pet names embellished into every other sentence, and Spamton knew just how much of a sucker he was for those. No. For the first time in over a year, Spamton was being completely, vulgarly, honest with him.

Tenna felt his skepticism beginning to ease, and it was scary just how much he was already starting to believe him. All without a single shred of proof. Tenna just couldn't help himself he supposed. He trusted Spamton. 

"Is that why you always hide your sketchbook?"

The look of sheer disbelief on Spamtons' face as he slowly brought his gaze up from the floor let Tenna know he wasn't the only one surprised by the crts' blatant swerve in topic. 

"I mean." Tenna began, suddenly very flustered as he spoke faster than his brain could think, "I saw the car sketches. Your Cungaderos, right? You like to draw the prototypes for the new models in your sketchbook. It's all so very detailed. I always thought that was amazing! I've… I've always wanted to learn. How to draw, I mean."

Spamton was quiet as he outright stared at him with wide judging eyes. Cruelly allowing Tenna to sweat nervously in silence. Rather rude, if well deserved.

"You–... you realize this means I have [No Money Down!!] to offer you, right? All those [Company Trademarked Secrets] weren't mine." Spamton relayed, his voice cracking from more than just the ads as it began to wobble and waver, "I can't [~Give it to me baby~] you a thing on my own. Not without…"

Spamtons' attention suddenly turned over his shoulder towards the phone, and as it did Tennas' followed. The very thing that held all the answers he's ever longed for. He'd be a liar if he said he was ready to give that up, but between the Dreemurrs' love and admiration and Spamtons' he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted anymore. He glanced at Spamton, still a mess as he stared almost fearfully at the phone, before dragging his knee up off the floor. 

"Just tell me one thing." 

Spamtons' response came in an instant.

"Anything."

Good or bad Tenna just wanted the truth. He wanted to know that he could trust him.

"... Was the prophecy about me?"

 There was a brief bout of hesitation as Spamton regarded his question, but he eventually answered with a nod. No flashy gimmicks or sugar-coated platitudes– just a nod. Which only served to embolden Tenna as he stood from the floor. The moment he was on his feet Spamton tucked his head into his lap, wrapping his arms around himself as he burrowed down into his knees. It was clear that for whatever reason he didn't want to watch, but he wasn't trying to stop him either. 

Tenna bent down to pick up the dangling phone and it tore his heart seeing Spamton clawing at his scalp again with a far off look that was anywhere but here. Looking between the man he loved and the phone with the answers he craved, the difference between what he wanted and what he needed became startlingly clear. Tenna spared one last considerate glance towards the receiver, swearing he could hear the faintest of whispers calling out to him between the drone of the dial tone, before he flipped the handset towards the hook and hung up the phone. Spamton suddenly jerked his head back up. Revealing puffy red eyes staring up at him with awe and relief, and it was enough for Tenna to know he'd made the right decision. Or, at the very least, the decision he could live with making. 

Having all the answers sure would be nice, but they hardly needed them. As long as they had each other Tenna supposed he could learn to live with a little improv. It's worked like a charm so far hasn't it, and look at what all they've achieved all on their own with a little elbow grease and some dumb luck. What more could he need than that?

"It's been a long day. And we've got another busy one coming up tomorrow." Tennas' smile came easily enough through a tired sigh as he added, "Why don't I take you home?"

Spamton had begun to smile right back, and Tenna was almost certain he's never seen the little mailman look at him so soft and fondly in all the time he's known him.

"You uh," Spamton asked, almost shyly, "mind if I [Crash Test Dummies] at your place?"

Tenna lended him a hand and was all too relieved when Spamton took it.

"Not at all. Actually," He couldn't help but laugh before he admitted it, "I was hoping you'd ask."

It happened so fast. One moment Spamton was staring at him like he'd hung the stars and the next, he was hugging Tennas' legs. Which was insane considering Spamton never went in for sappy gestures like this. Insane but– not unwelcome. Far from it actually, and it was taking every ounce of Tennas' willpower not to hug him just as tightly back. Spamton buried his face against his legs as he used his pants to wipe away the tears, along with the rest of the mess, and yep– these pants were going straight to the dry cleaners first thing in the morning.

"Come on Spammy." Tenna urged softly, pulling Spamton back to graze his thumb along his tear-streaked cheek, "I'm sure you're tired. Let's get some rest."

The little mailman nodded with the faintest of smiles as he wrapped his arms around himself and took a step back, and there was something so vulnerable about it all that let it finally feel real. This wasn't the cocky sponsor that was bragging about all the numbers he was generating for the show just hours prior. Far from it. Tenna was sure this was a new side of Spamton altogether. He placed his hand along the smaller mans' back, guiding them both out of the cramped room before he flicked off the lights and let the door close behind them with a soft but firm click. Spamton was still holding onto himself as they made their way back to their dressing room and it made Tenna wonder if he could be doing something more for him.

He pressed his hand further against Spamtons' back, letting it meld comfortably against the curve of his spine, and was surprised to see his steps stutter to a halt. It wasn't until his palm suddenly felt heavier that Tenna realized he'd sort of accidentally scooped Spamton up into his hand. Not that the man was complaining. Spamton nestled his face between Tennas' fingers almost instantly. Looking so comfortably snug in a way that had the crt swooning.

"Oh boy! You really are tired, huh?" Tenna teased more than asked.

The answer was obvious, but seeing Spamton nod against his palm as he wrapped his thumb up into a hug made it all too worth it. Tenna carried him the rest of the way to their room with a happy little wag of his tail before he laid them both into the couch with a careless plop. It jostled the coffee table. Nearly knocking the vase of roses nestled there into the ground for who knows how many times at this point before finally settling back down, and once he was sure the vase was safe from clattering to the floor Tenna sat back up. Just enough to give his tail some space to slot out of the hole in his slacks, before nestling back down into the sofa. They usually only do this when they're "too drunk" to reasonably go home. 

Even on nights where the two had barely finished so much as a single glass of wine between them. It was a convenient excuse that let them enjoy the benefits of being close without having to worry about the hassle of making things official. Although, Tenna supposed they wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. The realization left him positively giddy. Things were finally looking up for the two of them!

"... sorry…"

Tenna wasn't sure if he'd heard that right, but when the word registered he almost couldn't help but chuckle just a bit. Spamton sounded so cute when he got sleepy like this. Besides, what did he have to be sorry for? Tenna was about to ask when Spamton placed his hand against his screen.

"… dear lord… I'm so sorry…"

He froze suddenly. Oh. He'd nearly forgotten about… that. It wasn't long before Spamton was sleeping peacefully in his arms, and as he slept Tenna held onto him a little tighter. Wrapping his tail around the man for good measure. He could hear the echo of that haunted prophesy like a restless lullaby as he stared into the ceiling at the glowing stars above.

Tenna opened his mouth, tempted to say the words aloud, but stopped just short of a choked breath. No. He wouldn't make those words into a reality.

Chapter Text

Spamton forced his groggy eyes open. Lazily blinking them one lid after the other as he wiped the residual mess of drool from his cheek. Waking up to such a cozy warmth underneath him made him wonder why he'd even woken up in the first place, until he felt his sleeve get tugged again and it all came startlingly back. Spamton pushed his head up off of Tennas' chest with a snore gone snort, only to be met up close and personal with Greenies' frantic face just inches from his own. 

"Sweet [Angel Cake] above, Pips! The [@!*&] ya doin'?!" Spamton grit through his teeth in a harsh whisper as he startled back.

The stagehand seemed taken aback by the jarring censorship and quite frankly, so was he. Spamton glared down at himself for a fleeting moment, lost in a swirling torrent of confused thoughts before Greenie called for his attention.

"We've got a situation." He whispered as well, leaning in close as he used his clipboard to shield their conversation from the sleeping crt, "An' seein' as how you've been promoted to boss status, an' I don't even wanna know how Mr. Tenna'll handle the news– you're all I've got."

Word sure got around fast. The last people he saw were the weather duo so if anyone was to blame Spamton supposed he didn't have to guess much further than that. Looking at that dead-to-the-world screen beneath him it was amazing to see that Tenna was somehow still asleep through all this. Maybe that was for the best. Spamton couldn't even imagine what sorts of thoughts might run through his mind today. Considering… what he knows.

"What's going–" He tried to ask before he was cut off.

"Not. Here." Pips insisted, going so far as to cover his mouth before darting his eyes towards Tenna, "Meet me up at the catwalk in five. I'll explain there."

With his brain still halfway caught in a groggy stupor, Spamton only had the sense to grumble about the manhandling as he weakly slapped Pips' hand away.

"If [You Break it You Buy it] the [[Merchandise]] that's comin' outta your pay, Greenie!"

Wow! He's always wanted to say that.

"It's Battat," The stagehand corrected, "an' trust me. You're gonna wanna see this."

The guy always was a stickler about the nickname. Well, in Spamtons' defense, if he didn't want to be called that then he shouldn't be the only pippin walking around wearing green. He didn't bother wasting time with getting dressed other than slipping on his shoes and adjusting the jacket he'd fallen asleep in. If Battat was going so far as to wake him up at– Geeze Louise!! Was that clock on the wall right, was it really four o' clock in the morning!? Not even the Saturday morning cartoons run that early, so what's Greenies' excuse!!

"I swear to [[Heaven]] dice boy," Spamton muttered under his breath,"if this all turns out to be some [#@$%] then I'm gonna make today a living [H. E. Double Hockey Sticks!!] for you."

Spamton managed to take one step away from the couch before he was swiftly reminded that Tennas' tail had a mind of its own. The cord suddenly tripped him over his own feet causing him to land face first into the floor with a thud. That stupid plug was tapping against the carpet where it was wrapped around his ankle, as if it was satisfied with itself, and Spamton could not even begin to get into it with this lousy extension cord this early in the morning.

"Let me [Go! Go! Go!] or so [Press F1 for–] me, I'll convince [[Cathode]] to [Downsize Your Department]!" He demanded, pressing his fists against the floor as he tried to kick his leg away from the stubborn tail.

That seemed to get the point across to the pesky cord and almost immediately his leg was released, and then of course came the pouting. Even in his sleep Tenna was a master manipulator of the highest degree, and his admittedly adorable tail drooping in a sad heap along the ground was no exception. With a feeling he refused to admit was anywhere close to guilt, Spamton picked the limp cord up off the floor. Scolding it with a glare for good measure, before ultimately succumbing to the pathetic display as he gave the plug a kiss. Which almost immediately backfired as the happy tail began to swat with a wag at his face.

"Okay! Okay! Alright! [No Money Down!] boy!" He ordered past a chuckle as he pulled back the cord and covered his face.

Spamton hated how that got him to laugh, but what could he say? Tenna was a guy that was effortlessly easy to forgive– bratty tails and all. He slipped on his shoes, tapping them into the floor to ease them on, before tossing on his jacket and heading out the door. As to be expected this early in the morning, the pippins, zappers and shadow guys were already hard at work setting up costumes and props, organizing sets and exchanging scripts for the cartoons they'd be performing in a couple of hours. From the teleprompter it looked to be a marathon re-run of Tooney-Loons. A classic that never failed to bring the house down.

As Spamton looked in that general direction up above the stage he couldn't help but notice the shadow guy and zapper standing with Battat on the catwalk, and he could only wonder just what sort of situation he'd gotten himself wrapped into. He climbed the ladder towards the light console, crossing the rickety catwalk with only the briefest of heart attacks before he caught up with wacko one and his two nut-job cohorts.

"Alright Pips. This had better be [Worth Every Penny]. Why'd I [Want it, Need it, Gotta Have it!!] to wake up at the [Crack an Egg] of dawn?"

Battat turned to him, grabbing his shoulders, and somehow the wild look in his eyes had magnified. 

"Mike's gone."

"..."

There was an expected response, one Spamton was clearly not giving him as Pips' glare bored a hole through the poor guy.

"Huh?" He sputtered out.

Battat snatched him up by the lapels of his jacket. 

"Mike. Is. Gone!" He declared, dragging Spamton closer with each desperate word.

It took a moment for what he'd just said to sink in, Spamton was far from an afternoon person most days, but once it clicked he had to stop himself from shirking back with a guilty wince. Oh. Mike was gone. He should have expected that after the deal with his benefactor fell through. Some "Friend" he turned out to be. Rolling his wrist with an anxious twist or two, Spamton quickly pulled himself together before slinging his other arm around Battats' shoulders.

"Listen– Battsy," He began, trying to play it cool as he splayed his hand towards the crew below, "Look at all those [Hard Workin' Folks!]. We've got a [~The show must go on!~] to run and two hours to make that [It Could Happen to–]."

"I'm quite aware of that, Mr. Spamton. That's the problem." Battat reiterated.

Spamton jostled his shoulders with a hearty little shake.

"Come on, what all does [[Mike]] even do anyways? Move a couple of [Clap On! Clap Off!] and flick on some [*Tromboing*]? That's easy– and I'm sure between [Ed, Edd, n' Eddy!], you'll figure it out."

After patting Battats' cheek, Spamton slid off his shoulder and took a step back. He couldn't let Greenie see just how panicked he actually was. Melting down now would hardly solve things, and besides, that seemed to be the right play. Because just as soon as Spamton removed his shaking hands Battat looked back at him with a newfound surge of confidence.

"Yeah… Yeah! W-who needs Mike?!" He declared, sounding equal parts manic and hesitant as he ran his hand up past his forehead, "We've got this! I-i-it's just cartoons– reruns at that! We've performed these skits before. W-w-why should I be nervous?"

It was clear that Pips' was faking it, but that was the first step to making it so why should he let that stop them?

"Exactly. You'll do [Fine Dining]!" Spamton assured with a flippant wave of his hand, hardly believing that but refusing to vocalize it by even the slightest iota, "And once the block's [Doneion Rings] we'll figure out where we [Book a Travel Agent] from there."

Before he could blink Spamton found not one but both of his hands taken as all three of the crew members nearly lifted him up off the floor to shake his hands. With Battat grabbing his right hand in both of his own and the other two splitting the difference as they each shook his left. After he managed to snap out of it, Spamton snatched back his hands before the three of them could get carried away. Even if it was a bit too late to keep himself from getting dizzy.

"I can't thank you enough for the opportunity Mr. Spamton." Battat assured, "We won't let you down!"

"You'se can count on us!" The zapper stagehand added.

"~♫~!"

Spamton wasn't the most fluent in jazz so he'd just have to take the shadow guys' wide grin as a sign that he was happy too. He collected himself in an embarrassed huff that he tried to pass off as irritation while readjusting his jacket with a snappy flick. Settling it back over his shoulders before slicking his early morning feathers down against his head. To think he'd been so caught up in this impending fiasco that he forgot to gel his crown. Talk about a walking PR disaster. With a quick backwards flick of his wrist Spamton sternly but casually pointed towards the three, hoping to save at least a small smidge of face.

"See to it that you [Don't Wait! Call To–!]. We've got [Low Low Pric–!] than two hours 'till the [Man Woman or Child] wakes up so figure out [~Who made who?~]'s doin' what and get on it."

Spamton could feel his jacket crinkling under his fists with each crudely blurted line as he gripped his lapel. So it wasn't just stress then. After years spent having a handle on himself, to suddenly lose control like this was beyond frustrating. He'd thought he'd grown out of it, he thought– hoped that it wasn't just his benefactor pulling the strings. Of course he knew that it was. He just hoped it wasn't. 

It didn't seem like the crew were too keen to focus on that at the moment as they excitedly chatted with one another, but the distant worry that they were secretly thinking less of him put Spamton on edge. A part of him wanted to correct them. To make sure they didn't think he was some sort of joke. However, seeing smiles so wide and close as they surrounded him brought back memories. Memories that were rightfully deep and buried, and suddenly Spamton wanted to be anywhere else but here. He sidestepped around the trio when he was sure they weren't paying attention, and like a coward he left.

Just like he always did when things got bad. 

"[Goddamnit]."

Spamton paused midway down the ladder as he registered what he'd just said, or rather, what he'd finally been allowed to say. Just what sort of game was his former benefactor trying to pull toying with him like this? Was he enjoying this? Spamton wouldn't put it past an all-knowing entity with nothing better to do. Whatever. It was still too early in the morning to be dealing with all this bullshit anyways. 

Spamton ignored the rest of the crew making their rounds as he made a beeline back to Tennas' dressing room with a barely held yawn against his fist. It was still pretty early. Maybe, if he was lucky, Spamton could sneak in another couple of hours of shut eye with his living space heater boyfr– Oh... The ease of that thought prompted quite the flush to settle over his face. Seems as though he was getting used to the terms of their new "partnership" already.

***

Waking up alone was hardly new for Tenna. On nights like the last, Spamton usually left before the day got started. Tenna just supposed today might be different since… well. They were together and all. Though maybe he shouldn't have expected so much so soon. Afterall, for such a big shot success Spamton was unusually shy. 

Not that he'd ever admit it, no. He was far too proud– and stubborn. Brash, cocky, and… handsome. So very very handsome. Especially when he got to talking. Why, he could read the phonebook and Tenna was sure he'd still hang on Spamtons' each and every word. 

Tenna loved being the center of attention in any given room, sure– but being able to kick back and just listen for once? The feeling was practically cathartic. It was a rare treat when someone else could steal the spotlight like that, and not having to steer the conversation all the time was a relief Tenna could hardly describe. Almost as if, for a moment, it was alright to just be himself. A self that wasn't always family friendly and ready with a clever joke. One that had his own opinions contrary to popular beliefs.

Although, at the moment, he'd rather not dwell on those opinions. They were hardly helpful. More– frightfully pessimistic. Which was far from fair. Everyone dies. It was a part of life. 

So what if the concept of death was more applicable to lightners with their mortal bodies than darkners who existed as living concepts? Darkners could die too! It happened… sometimes. Tenna was sure he'd heard that from somewhere. Petrification was a thing, even if he still didn't understand how Spamton avoided it. Or the fact that petrification was less of a death and more of a deep sleep until the darkner was returned home.

Tenna was sure he'd gone to sleep last night but other than Spamton being gone nothing had really changed. The ceiling was still dotted with painted glow in the dark stars, the white noise of his screen still filled the silence of the room, and there were still far too many images dotting along the back of his mind of how the prophecy would play out. No matter how many times Tenna flicked off his screen he still couldn't get the image of him sliced in two out of his head. He didn't want to admit it, especially when Spamton was already a wreck, but knowing about his death did bother him. So much more now than the night before. The idea of being "cleaved" was so guttural and violent that it made Tenna shake just thinking about it.

Was he born to die, then? Was that what his grand purpose was supposed to be? Would he even see it coming? Oh goodness, would he even want to? Tenna snatched up the tie still loosely draped around his neck and twiddled it between his fingers. His chest heavy as he gripped the fabric, blank screen staring vacantly towards the ceiling. 

Tenna felt powerless. What could he do? With his death lingering around any given corner every performance could wind up being his last, and the thought of a mundane grand finale churned his battery acid. Oh boy, telling lame jokes on a Tuesday– what a way to go. As if he wasn't already worried enough about falling off, now he had to worry about kicking the bucket with nothing to show for it after all these years on top of that! At the very least, the audience deserved to be given something spectacular to remember him by.

Something spectacular… Suddenly Tenna sat up, his screen lighting the room with a renewed brightness. That's it! He was looking at it all wrong, none of this had to be a tragedy. They didn't have to drag their heels gloobily towards the end! Not if they led the charge straight towards the greatest finale of all time! 

Oh, and Tenna would give them a spectacular show–! No! Scratch that! A stupendous show! A Monumental Show for the New Millennium!! Just as Tenna had jumped up to his feet, Spamton stepped in through the door. Sloppily dressed, eyes half closed, with his partially tucked in shirt and looking dead set on hitting the sack already.

"There you are!"

Tenna wasted no time scooping Spamton up and giving the two of them a good twirl as he spun around on his heel.

"Are you ready for your first big day as a part of the cast, Spammy?"

The man in question cupped his hand over his mouth, and knowing just what sort of trouble that could spell for the two of them, Tenna quickly stopped and held him at a distance. Spamton collected himself with a gulped breath before he spoke.

"I'm ready for two more hours of [*Honk Mimimimi*]." He shot back, cranky as all get but far too tired to allow any genuine heat to settle over his tone.

Tenna couldn't help but snort at the sound effect he'd used, and how could he not? It was an absolute classic. Still he shook the urge to laugh from his mind. Now was not the time to get caught up in Spamtons' humorous antics. They had business to discuss.

"Nah uh-uh, Spams." Tenna tutted, wagging his finger with one of his second set of hands, "You're a co-host now, and that means you'll be taking on a brand new host of responsibilities!"

He wiggled his brows at the cheeky word play, earning a comedically timed groan from the other and– wow! Even conked out and tired he never missed a cue. Tenna smiled just that little bit wider feeling a sense of pride. 

"I just finished [Local Dealership] with a [Tough Stains?] earlier. Why else would I [Part of a Balanced Breakfast] at four in the morning, Ant?"

This whole navigation process to try and piece together what Spamton was actually saying wasn't new for Tenna, although it had been a while. He gave himself a moment to think. Local dealership likely meant dealing. Tough stains were usually a problem and a balanced breakfast… no, he already said morning… Oh! It was something you eat when you wake up.

"I just finished [dealing] with a [problem] earlier. Why else would I [wake up] at four in the morning, Ant?"

There. He knew he still had that knack for putting his favorite little mailmans' speech quirk together! Hopefully it was nothing too serious, but Tenna would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit concerned. Spamton never liked to talk about his ads. Not before, and from the looks of things as he turned away, certainly not now. He'd bring it up later tonight, when the two of them had a moment alone.

"Well look at you!" Tenna commended, "Already getting your feet wet without me having to show you how. I knew you were a shoo-in for our little crew!"

Spamton let off a nervous laugh.

"That's nice an' all but can you–"

The reason for his discomfort took all but a moment for Tenna to piece together.

"Oh!"

He quickly set Spamton down on the arm of the couch so they could at least remain semi-level to one another. If semi-level was face to chest, that is. It was the best that Tenna could do, given how excited he still was.

"Sorry! I got carried away, carrying you away!" He said, pointing with his hands one way before pointing towards the opposite way.

Spamton dusted himself off. Something of a habit of his, even if he wasn't really dirty. Tenna wondered if it was a bird thing. He did a lot of bird things when people weren't looking. Namely, anyone but him. It took a lot of discipline for Tenna not to remark how cute he thought it was, lest said bird things came to a stop.

"It's alright, [[Sweetheart]]–"

The pair froze, and seeing a face so pale go the darkest shade of scarlet was something Tenna never thought he'd see without that trademark blush of his. He mulled on it, for barely half a second, and yes. Tenna deemed that he liked this new nickname. That, and being the reason for that flushed out look on Spamtons' face.

"F-forget I said that!"

Normally Tenna would agree out of respect. For cordial businesses' sake. However, call it a little signature along a dotted line, or receiving the best kiss of his life just hours earlier– but Tenna felt pretty confident as he grinned towards the man like a little stinker.

"No promises, Spammy.~"

That seemed to stun the confidence right out of Spamton, and before he could lose his own Tenna gently tilted up his chin and gave him a quick kiss. He could still feel that delightful little tingle from the tips of his antenna right down to his toes, and the static fuzz that jolted from his screen in spades. It ruffled up Spamtons' fluffy black feathers. The inky plumes so much softer against his glass without all that gel to weigh them down. He looked lovely either way, but Tenna was a sucker for just about anything soft. Turning on his heel towards the mirror soon after, Tenna tried to play it cool but on the inside he felt like an explosion of colorful fireworks all going off at a tent sale at once.

Behind him Spamton scoffed, but Tenna could see the way he was smiling, and Spamton looked just as hopelessly smitten from his view through the vanity mirror.

Chapter Text

Tenna had an excellent poker face in the opinion of most folks but Spamton saw right through it. Not that he was particularly difficult to read, given the happy little swish of his tail. He could see why Tenna tucked it away on set. Wouldn't do for a pesky wire to give away what its owner was thinking at any given moment. Spamton spared one last wistful glance towards the couch and sighed. He'd been hoping for those two extra hours of sleep but, unfortunately for him, those chances were looking to be nothing more than a dream. 

So, after sliding off the couch, Spamton resigned himself to his fate and climbed up on the stool beside Tenna. From there it was a matter of falling into routine. Taking up his makeup brush, dotting a touch of rouge to his pale cheeks, and hiding his tired eyes with some concealer. Then, once he was satisfied with that, he slathered his hands in a tin of gel. A single run through his crown tamed the otherwise puffy feathers flat against his head, and when he was sure none of them would curl back up, he offered his reflection a dual finger gun salute. Clicking his tongue before following it up with a two note whistle as he smirked at the man in the mirror. 

Beside him, Tenna chuckled.

"Yes, yes. You're a very pretty bird." He teased before bumping Spamton with his hip, "Now quit hogging the mirror."

Tenna nearly knocked him off his stool with that hip check before perfectly catching the smaller co-host at the last second with his tail, and the playful waggle of his brow as he tilted his screen over towards him let Spamton know it was far from an accident. He felt breathless staring up at the sheer confidence on display at 480i. A smug grin replacing Tennas' usual honey sweet smile as he adjusted the tie around his neck. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Spamton shoved Tennas' tail away and stood back up on his own two feet, only for the taller host to laugh. He was certainly a lot bolder all of a sudden. Well, Spamton thought as he slid his tie around his own neck with a sharp flick of the fabric, two could play at that game.

"Oh yeah? And how am I, [Just a Little Guy]," He remarked, placing his hands against his chest before lifting both of his arms to gesture up towards Tenna, "supposed to compare to [Your Name in Lights!!] taking up the whole mirror like he's [Coming Soon to a Theater Near You]?"

A budding flower took root on the tip of Tennas' nose.

"Oh, you're just saying that!" He gushed with a flick of his wrist.

Spamton grinned. He knew that'd get him.

"I mean it." He doubled down, "You're [The Biggest Event of the Century] [[Baby]]!"

It would take some practice now that he's fallen out of touch with his speech quirk, but Spamton has had to work around it before. He could learn to do it again. Although, he could do without the tacky pet names forcing their way straight from his head and out of his mouth. Tenna instantly grew another couple of feet from the praise and it was silly, in a sweet sort of way, to see him grab his flushed face as he rocked from side to side. The tip of his nose adorned with a freshly blossomed flower. Once again Spamton could feel the edges of his smile soften to a more genuine curve, and given it was just the two of them in this room, it would be a lot harder to wipe away now. 

"Spammy! If you don't stop I'm not gonna be able to fit out the door!" He insisted, hardly as bothered by that prospect as he wanted to sound, Spamton was sure.

Pressing his hand against the vanity table Spamton leaned forward before walking his fingers up along Tennas' chest. Higher and higher until he reached his tie.

"[*Awww*]" He teased, pretending to frown as he pinched that yellow satin between his fingers, "Whatever would we do [All Alone on a Late Night?] by ourselves?"

If his face was a wash of color before, the neon rainbow before him now was almost double that. What he wouldn't give to drag that screen down and–

"Places people! Places! Rehearsal for Rabbit Duck Rabbit in five!"

Their attention shifted towards the shouting just outside the door, and with a startled glance towards the other the hosts collectively backed off. Both a bit more flushed in the face than before as they busied themselves with the last of their finishing touches. As if to punish him, Spamtons' hands wouldn't stop shaking. Leaving his tie a rather difficult obstacle to try and wrestle with. He was sure it was just his nerves getting the better of him, but the unbidden image of his severed fingers falling apart briefly startled him. After the third, and admittedly more panicked attempt to flip and loop it, Tenna took the ends for himself.

"Here. Let me help you with that."

Before he could protest, Tenna had already begun to take a crack at tying the knot. Carefully pinching the tiny fabric between his fingers the same way one might lace their shoes. He didn't do it right the first couple of times, struggling with the steps as he furrowed his brows, but Spamton didn't try to stop him. Tenna was meticulous with each attempt and Spamton couldn't help but admire the sheer concentration on his face. That, and the comforting feeling of his fingers brushing along his neck. Spamton wasn't a morning person by any means, no, but he was sure he could certainly get used to this.

"There!" Tenna declared before taking a step back, "How's that Spam?"

Spamton looked towards the mirror and made a show of tracing his hands around the knot. As if Tenna wasn't the one who'd shown him how to do this when he'd switched from bowties.

"Hmmm. Solid [Jobs in Your Area!]..." He commended, before adding with a cheeky grin, "for a [Novice]."

Hopping off the stool, Spamton reveled in the offended sputter behind him as Tenna followed him out of the dressing room. Catching up to the smaller co-host in barely two strides.

"You know I know how to tie a tie!" Tenna defended in a huff, "Yours is just tiny! Try tying something so small between your fingers and come complaining to me then!"

Spamton clicked his tongue.

"[[Excuses, Excuses, Excuses]]," He waved off, flicking his wrist about in a somewhat lazy manner.

His flippant teasing earned a playful flick to his hand from Tennas' tail as they crossed the hall leading to the green room, and Spamton grabbed the little plug before he could draw it away.

"Are we [And Don't Forget!!]–ing something?"

Spamton waggled the tail in question with a cocky raised brow before Tenna snatched it back. Clearly embarrassed.

"Well," He insisted, rather sheepishly, "If a certain someone hadn't rushed us out of the room then maybe I would have remembered!"

For shame. Blaming him when he's clearly done nothing wrong. As Tenna tucked his tail away, Spamton tried to think of a clever follow-up joke. Something about getting his lawyers involved, but the bit quickly died on his tongue as someone he'd never seen before came barrelling from the studio and into the green room after them. A short stoutly guy in an admittedly snazzy red bowtie carrying a… mic?

"Mr.'s Tenna and Spamton! It's good to see ya!"

Spamtons' shoulders hiked as his entire body went rigid. In an instant he knew exactly who this was.

"…Who ar–" Tenna tried to ask.

"Batt–" Spamton hissed through gritted teeth.

"Silly me! I forgot to introduce myself!" The imposter spat out, quickly cutting both of them off, "I'm Mike!!"

Alright. What the hell was this bozo doing? Was this his plan!? Pretend to be Mike and lie right to Tennas' face about it!? "Mike" had his palm thrust ahead of him, waiting for a hand shake from a rather confused Tenna, and it was in that moment that Spamton deemed an emergency meeting was in order. He grabbed the crazed stagehand by the shoulders and quickly turned him around.

"Excuse us [Prime Time]," He relayed to Tenna, shoving Battat ahead as he led the both of them forward, "Mike an' I have some [Exclusive Offers] to talk about. Just a sec!"

Grilling him about this in front of Tenna was bound to get the poor idiot fired, and call it a pang of guilt, but he'd rather not feel like he was to blame when this guys' insane lapse in judgment was technically his fault. As soon as Spamton was sure the pair of them were far enough across the other side of the green room that Tenna wouldn't hear them, he turned the stagehand back around. Finding the bewilderment and shock on Greenies' face nearly equal to his own. Good. At least he's not stupid enough to think this was just a friendly little chat. For a start Spamton let off a useless sigh, knowing no amount of breathing would soothe his shot nerves, before he clawed a hand back through the feathers along his crown.

"[What a Bargin!] are you doing!!?" He whispered, if just barely.

"We didn't have enough time!" Battat tried to explain in a rush, doing his best to keep his voice from rising as well, "Everybody was waitnin' on Mikes' orders an' nothin' was gettin' done. I panicked!"

"So you put on this stupid [Halloween is Just Around the Cor–] c-costume!?"

"It's not like anyone has ever seen him before!" He argued.

"And [You Decide!] to dress up like a [Clown Around Town] you've never even seen before?! What about Ten–[Percent Off!!]!"

"He's never seen him either!"

All at once, the fire in Spamton simmered down.

"…Wait. [It's a Real Deal!]?"

"Well yeah. He just sorta…" Battat rolled his wrist, thinking of the way to phrase it, "speaks to the air." he settled with, before giving up and shrugging his shoulders with a helpless grin, "We all do."

Sweet Heavens above, when his former benefactor said these guys wouldn't second guess his methods he really meant it, didn't he? Spamton suspected Tenna at the very least would be a little suspicious, what with the iron grip he held on the production around here. Apparently not. 

"Huh,"

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea. Things were already crazy enough right now. They could keep this up for a day, see how things play out, and he'd tell Tenna after. Easy.

"Alright." Spamton began, slinging his arm around the anxious pippins' shoulders like he'd done before, "Tell ya [What We've Got in Store For You!!], Mike. We'll [Viewer Discretion–] how this arrangement [Works Out All Those Kinks!], and if your [Patented Eyelash Formula] idea ends up being [A New Record!!] we'll [Roll Down the Windows and Feel the Breeze!]."

Battat nodded in agreement the whole time he spoke, but Spamton wasn't entirely sure he understood him.

"Just so we're [Beautiful Stained Glass Windows!], I want you to [Repeat After Me!]."

Swallowing nervously at first, Battat obliged.

"We're gonna test run this operation and if it works out, we'll roll with it." He reiterated.

Spamton was the one to nod this time, relieved that he wasn't so garbled up that he was beyond common language. 

"Atta, Batta!" Spamton encouraged with an eager shake of his shoulder.

He pulled away, walking backward with a friendly fire of his fingers. 

"Just keep on [Swingin'] for those [White Picket Fences] [[Kid]]!" He added, grinning just a bit too wide for a natural smile, "[~You got it, you got it bad~] this!"

Battat repeated the same finger guns back at him, but the way he was failing to keep his smile from wobbling as he sweat bullets hardly gave it the same confidence. They parted ways, with Battat racing off towards the set and Spamton walking back over to Tenna. The man seemed confused, but Spamton would smooth this all over. He had to. He refused to fuck all of this up on his very first day goddamnit!

"So, what did Mike want?"

Spamton took a moment to let what he just said sit with him as he blinked. Tenna sounded awfully confident addressing Greenie as Mike. Did he actually buy it? Quickly wiping the stunned stupor off his face with a smile, Spamton decided to hell with it.

"Oh, you know Mike–" He teased with a nudge of his elbow, "he just wanted to lay out the [Notebook Planners only $5.99] for the day to make sure [Everything Must–] goes by [ICE-E's New Smoothie Flavored Hairspray!]."

From there all he had to do was slide his arm up along Tennas' back and drag him closer. The guy was a sucker for touchy affection, that, and a reassuring word or two. Or four or five or six– yeah, he might have a bit of a problem when it came to validation, but what great man didn't have the odd vice here or there? He sure as hell wasn't a saint, and did Tenna judge him? No– and that's why they're partners! 'Cause when it came to the two of them having each other figured out, he and Ant might as well be an old married couple.

Tenna buttered-up under the rare display of public affection, and while he knew it would only encourage his co-host to drag him around in front of everyone even more, it was also the best way to get his mind off of the fact that the guy they were just talking to sure as sin wasn't Mike. The tactic worked like a charm, and Tenna was all too happy to lean into Spamtons' touch with the dopest of smiles. 

"Good ol' Mike." Tenna agreed with a fond chuckle, "So, you ready for your first day, big shot?"

They were headed towards the stage now, and while he's been here many times before, this was his first time stepping onto that spotlight as more than just "the e-mail guy". He could only pray he didn't fuck this up.

"[But Wait, There's More!] than anything."

***

Tenna could feel the anxious shake in Spamtons' hand as he pulled him closer. He wasn't usually this touchy outside of the dressing room, but he supposed today marked a rather special occasion. So for now, he'd let this weird little "Mike Conspiracy" slide. It was odd that he hasn't seen him hovering overhead since they left the dressing room though. Mike was never late… on account of the fact he was a giant boom mic that couldn't exactly leave where he was hoisted above the lot. At least, Tenna thought he couldn't leave. 

Oh that Mike– just as mysteriously gone from the studio as he had once mysteriously arrived. The more confusing part however was the act Spamton and their stagehand was trying to pull. Didn't they know this guy looked nothing like Mike, or were the two of them just pulling his leg? It was an admittedly funny prank, but he couldn't help wondering where the real Mike might have run off too. Well, if it kept the crew from scattering in a panic, Tenna supposed he could "roll with it" too. Although, he and Spamton were going to have a long talk about this afterwards.

Before they made it past the curtain that led through the hallway towards the backstage, Spamtons' hand pulled away from his back like it had been burnt. That stung, but despite a minor inch lost in height Tenna tried not to let it show. They were at work. Neither of them had time to be messing around with cute little gestures of affection… even if Tenna would very much like that. Regardless, the crt held his chin high. Refusing to let his disappointment show as he greeted the scattering cast and crew with a warm and friendly smile.

Whole pounds of scripts were handed his way the further he walked onto set, and it took an additional pair of arms just to carry them all. Tenna kept one of his four hands free to dig into his coat pocket for a couple of pens and began signing approvals and editing drafts. Spamton offered to take a few of them but none of the pippins were used to handing stuff over to anyone else so they, for the most part, just ignored him. He looked a bit frustrated after the third or fourth rejection and, feeling a bit overwhelmed himself, Tenna stopped in his tracks. Raising his volume he cleared his throat, easily gaining everyones' attention as his voice echoed from the speakers and across the walls. He really should have put a memo on the bulletin board sooner, but better late than never.

"Good morning everyone!" He addressed, gaining the rooms' attention with ease, "I have a special announcement to make!" 

Sliding one of his pens to hang at the top of the script he was reviewing, Tenna used his new free hand to clap Spamton along the back.

"Starting today, Spamton will be joining us as my new co-host! So please, feel free to include Spamton regarding any issues with paperwork and the production! We're both more than happy to help!"

Just as soon as he was finished addressing the crew one pippin approached, and as Tenna glanced down towards his partner he watched as Spamton was given his very first script to look over. He appeared surprised, before relief swiftly took its place. That too was quickly covered up by a practiced smooth bravado, but the genuine happiness in Spamtons' eyes was impossible for him to hide. Least of all from Tenna. Well, that just about settled it– Spamton was happy to be included and Tenna was more than happy to finally get some help approving all these damn scripts. Truely, a win-win scenario for all.

Pretty soon the first batch of Saturday morning cartoons began rolling in, and so far so good. These were tried and true show that never failed to get a good giggle or two from the Dreemurr kids. Neither of them were there just yet, but six o' clock was just around the corner. Toriel would have them up before long once she started up on her chores. That vacuum was such a genius strategy! What a clever gal!

The kids would eat their cereal in front of the tv then continue to watch cartoons while they helped clean up the house with their mom. After all, who doesn't love a little background noise to start out their day? Something familiar and comforting to get you through all the humdrum. That was looking to be the case as he got swept up in his daydreams, that is, before the fourth cartoon rolled around. All it took was one naughty word uttered by a milkshake for Tenna to be made aware of a glaring slip up. That most certainly was not Tooney Loons.

"Why is Liquid Adolescent Peckish Team playing on our kids block!?" Tenna shouted as he clutched onto the side of his head, "Who signed off on this!?"

Looking down at Spamton his co-host immediately shook his head, and rather violently too.

"Don't [Look at All These Savings!!] me! I [Approved by The Board of Directors] ten scripts– all [50th Anniversary Olivia Oop Commemorative Pins] and [Rickey Rat and Friends]!"

"Did you check?!"

With his fists clenched tight as he stood on the tips of his toes, Spamtons' carefully slicked back feathers puffed up furiously as he tried to make himself taller.

"Double [Checkers]!!" He insisted.

Tenna was about to grill him again, because it couldn't have been him who approved a mistake like this, but Spamton had suddenly run off towards the stage.

"Wait! Spam! We're live!" He tried to warn as he reached his hand out ahead of him, but Spamton paid it no heed.

Standing up on the spotlight, Spamton interrupted the broadcast with the flashiest pop up he could display to cover the camera. Something about a pet you could grow like a plant, an ad that was at least feasible for the hour and demographic. 

"I'll stall the [Chicken Feed $1.99 Per Pound]. [[Silver Screen]], get everyone in place for ["To Quack Or Not To Quack" circa 1943] now!"

Tenna was stunned by the direct order. Less that he was given it and more to do with the fact that Spamton already had a handle on things. All without so much as a trace of hesitancy. Quickly snapping out of it, Tenna began directing the crew. Guiding them to ditch the swimming pool for a boxing ring, and to change their costumes from those crude fast food creatures into ducks before they took their new places in a small stadium around the ring. They didn't have time to set up the opening of the cartoon, too many sets to rearrange, so they'd just have to start the episode at the boxing match.

"Get the chair and newspaper ready!" Tenna called out as he helped drag over the backdrop.

Shadow guys in duck costumes began filling out the stands as the actors playing the human and main two ducks took up the ring. They'd been given the right props, both in view and hidden in the hammer spaces just outside of the camera, and were all standing in place waiting for their cues. Tenna scanned the stage, hoping everyone was ready, but found a key character missing.

"Who's playing the dog?"

His answer was met with all manner of cast and crew throwing up their shoulders as they shook their heads.

"Well, somebody had better get up in the empty stands! I don't care who, just make sure you're in costume! Stock the fruit baskets and don't forget the crash mat. That gag happens twice, so double everything."

Tenna could sense the vibrations of pittering feet as they hurried down the stairs. If they didn't get that program up and running in the next thirty seconds Kris would shut the tv right back off, and knowing their limited attention spans, the kids would quickly listen to the radio instead. They couldn't lose this hour of block time.

"T-[10% Off]?"

Tenna turned back to Spamton and was horrified to see him glitching in and out of place as he continued to project the ad. From the way he was baring his teeth with his eyes screwed shut, it was almost as if he was being electrocuted.

"Spamton? Are you o–?"

"Can't. Close it." He explained, squeezing his fingers as if to try as he clawed at the hologram, "Te–[Top Ten–] [Ten Ways to Say–] [[Ṫ̵͙̜̭͇̯͓̎E̵̺̤͊̚Ņ̴̢̻͉̣̜̿̍̓̂͗̈́N̵̤͖͓̩̑͂́̚ͅÀ̴̡̹̫́̀̊!]]!!"

Without sparing any further thought Tenna hurried over to Spamton and tore him away from the screen, severing the connection and forcing the ad to shut down. Spamton was breathing heavily, his hands shaking even worse than before, and it was only now that Tenna had begun to notice how often it was happening. Maybe it wasn't just nerves. The cartoon ran as planned, and from their place on the floor Tenna watched Kris flick on the switch before scurrying off to the kitchen to get some cereal. Apparently satisfied. The television stayed on, and production from that point ran as normal. 

Tenna leaned down so that only Spamton would hear him.

"Are you alright?" He asked, concern unmistakably drenched in his tone.

Spamton let out a cough or two before lifting his thumb up into the air.

"Just [Gummy Peach Rings], [[Honey]]."

The moment he'd said it, Spamton immediately covered his mouth with both hands and as Tennas' chest began to burn with a pleasant heat he couldn't help but smile. The taller co-host kept his mouth shut from any teasing remarks, but hidden away, his wagging tail was about as happy as could be.

"Glad to hear it." He assured, holding back a well intentioned, "Spammy" knowing his stubborn boyfriend wouldn't appreciate it with all these people hovering around, "But why don't you take a break. I'll call you back on set once the cartoon block is over."

Tenna's never seen anything like that happen before. Maybe it was one of those glitches Spamton once told him about. He said he used to get those from time to time but still… that, whatever that was, looked awful. Spamton let off a tired laugh, one that still managed to be quite genuine in that distinct cackley way before he patted the side of Tennas' screen.

"[Sounds of the Ocean] like a plan."

His hand lingered there, still shaking as it gently circled Tennas' side panel, and before his shy little mailman could think to take it away he pulled his palm towards his lips and gave it a brief kiss. Pleased to find a little awe mixed in there with Spamtons' embarrassed flush. He quickly sat up, dusting his pants and jacket off as if there was any trace of affection to be found wrinkling his perfect suit, before adjusting his tie and standing up straight.

"See [You! Yes You!] soon." He muttered, covering his mouth.

Tenna was sure it was to hide his face, but how convenient was it that Spamton just so happened to use the hand he'd kissed. That warm feeling in his chest only grew, and alright– sure, he thought as he watched him go. He'd take an indirect kiss. For now.

Chapter Text

With every step he took Spamton felt his limbs shaking. His body rattling from his chest down to his toes. It could be a lingering spike of adrenaline from the broken ad he told himself, but somehow he knew better. The vision of himself falling apart still haunted the back of his mind– had been haunting him since he'd dropped that damn receiver. Spamtons' gaze couldn't help but flitter over towards the rank rooms as he paced about in the green room lounge. Where his phone still patiently waited for him. 

What if it was ringing right now? What would he say this time, what more could he stand to lose? He needed to know. Spamtons' racing thoughts tempted him to sate his unspoken curiosities, and before he knew it he was already moving. Sliding past the couches and scattered crew members running about to and fro, until he was face to face with that door. Not a guard in sight with it being so early in the day, and even then Spamton was always welcome.

Free to lock himself in that dark cramped room for hours and hours if he wished, and oh how he loved it. Loved losing track of the hours, the days and weeks as every little moment was laid out for him. Never had to lift a finger for once in his life as he managed to say everything perfectly. No more struggling through the embarrassment and shame of trying to stand even halfway as tall as the rest of the addisons. No more feeling like he wasn't good enough. No more feeling like a broken mistake– like something that shouldn't even exist.

He should apologize. His Friend gave him everything and this was the thanks he offered in return? He should be on his knees, begging his benefactor to take him back. How could he take him for granted like this after all he's done? After not even asking for a single thing in return. Spamtons' hand hovered over the knob, quaking as his fingers curled ever closer. 

Until that prophecy washed over him like sleet. The image of Tennas' slashed screen startled Spamton enough to step back. His heart racing all over again as he drew his hand away to clutch his chest. The way it suddenly hammered felt like it was one beat away from tearing right out of his chest, and he worried that if he didn't hold it back it just might. One step from the door quickly turned to three followed by three more until his spine collided with the back of the couch in the lounge. Nearly toppling him into tripping before he steadied himself against the plush cushion backing.

With the room spinning like it was Spamtons' grip on the sofa tightened and, with his impulses sated for the moment, he was forced once again to stop and think. What could he even hope to gain crawling back to that phone anyway? His former benefactor had said it himself; they were done. He'd violated the one rule he was given, and no amount of begging would change his mind. Although, the way he'd expected him to break it had hardly left Spamton at ease.

"The little puppet runs out the door, and does not look back."

He hadn't forgotten those parting words, and how could he? It was the first time one of those cryptically laid out predictions didn't come to pass. Spamton didn't leave, and in a way, he did look back. Had he and Tenna somehow managed to tamper with fate? Was that even possible, or were they just delaying the inevitable? Looking back on last night, he couldn't even remember what was going through his head that had convinced him to leave.

Was it panic? Fear? Dread… or was he simply following orders? Like always. Spamton didn't know, but what he did know was that he wasn't going anywhere now, not when they could still do… something. He didn't know what exactly but there had to be something! 

He couldn't give in to hopelessness, not now. If Tenna could keep it together then Spamton sure as hell could too. He just needed more time to think. However, concentration was proving just a touch out of reach at the moment. Spamton lifted his hands, and sure enough they were still jittery even now. Why won't they stop shaking goddamnit!?

He clenched his fists, but to no relief. Trying again and again changed nothing, and fed up with the whole thing Spamton gave up with a scoff as he went back to gripping the couch. It was nothing. He was just glitching up again. Without that helping hand Spamton supposed it was back to failing upwards again. Emphasis on the upwards, because he refused to give up that easily.

Despite the fact that he'd nearly gone crawling back to his supposed "Friend", but Spamton wasn't going to think about that right now.

"Mr. Spamton! There you are!"

Tipping his gaze over towards the showroom door, Spamton had expected to see Greenies' sorry hide, only to be met with two more sorry sods dressed in costume. One in some sort of cowboy boxer, boom mic get-up, and the other as a cat with mics for paws for… some reason.

"I just want you to know," Battat began, raising his hands and cutting Spamton off before he could speak, "I have no idea how that adult cartoon got mixed up in there!"

That was the least of their problems right now.

"What in [Good Golly, Miss Molly!!] are you two [Straight Jackets On Sale Now!!] wearing?" Spamton demanded, glaring in disbelief towards the others.

He tapped his foot to make a good show of being upset while his hands were– otherwise occupied, and who Spamton could only guess was the zapper between the three spoke up.

"I just gots done with that boxin' scene." He replied, shrugging his shoulders as he threw up his hands in frustration, "You'se wants me to waste time dressin' down before I talk to you'se or somethin'?"

Spamton bit back a growl before he utterly snapped.

"So [What a Bargin!]? All [The Three Musketeers] of you are gonna be [[Mike]] now? Was that your [Grandma's Gonna Love This] plan Battsy?"

"Don't get it twisted, Mr. Spamton! It's not as crazy as you're thinkin'!" Greenie tried to assure.

Looking between the annoyed zapper that was perfectly mirroring his own annoyance and the shadow guy happily swaying from side to side in an oblivious little dance, Spamton was highly sceptical of that before shifting his gaze back to the frantic pippin.

"I'm the only one that talks to Mr. Tenna directly you see." He began to explain, before slinging his arms around the taller stagehands he was sandwiched between, "Jongler here takes care of managing the actors."

Spamton couldn't say for sure, but it felt like the guy was glaring right back at him.

"Hey." He remarked bitterly, cocking his head back ever so slightly, "How you doin'."

Yep. Definitely glaring at him.

"And Pluey over here is in charge of the lights and soundboard."

The shadow guy from earlier gave an over-enthusiastic wave. One Spamton did not return, however that hardly seemed to dampen the cats' mood.

"♫!"

Not knowing what he just said, Spamton could only raise a curious eyebrow.

"He says he's happy to be workin' for the team." Jongler clarified, "You'se gotta' problem with that too?"

Man, for not having one that zapper sure had a mouth on him. Well Spamton wasn't about to be intimidated by this guy just because he was bigger than him. So was everyone else, and he made quick work of putting those chucklefucks in their places too.

"No." He answered, glaring even harder with the sharpest grin he could muster as he refused to budge, "But what I do [~We're gonna have a problem here~] with is whoever let that [Adult Swim] program air on [We'll Do It Live! Fuck it!] television during [Where A Kid Can Be A Kid!]!"

That seemed to knock the wind out of all three of them in an instant, and Spamton was not the least bit sorry. Whoever decided a show like that fit perfectly well with the rest of the cartoon block is about as much of an idiot as the blockheads those wacky barn animals always square off against, and he wanted them out. Spamton wasn't about to risk his credibility just because someone couldn't be bothered to keep theirs in check!

"Look… it was me–" Battat tried to say.

That is, before Spamton cut him off. Raising a thankfully less jittery hand than earlier.

"No it wasn't."

The stagehand glowered somewhat confusingly towards that response.

"Yes, it was?" He tried again.

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Then why do you sound [Symptoms Include; Anxiety, Nausea–]?"

There it was again, that nervous wily smile of his, and Spamton wasn't buying it. He looked up towards the zapper.

"How 'bout you, [[Sparky]]?" Spamton asked, eyeing Jongler suspiciously, "You [And Knowing is Half the Battle!] how that [Manic Episode] got there?"

Spamton almost hoped it was him, the jerk, but he shook his head.

"Wasn't lookin' over no scripts." Jongler attested, "I was on stage 'fore you'se and Mista Tenna even showed up."

Spamton tried his best to read the man and call him out on his possible bluff, not that there was much to read considering he was a faceless boom mic, however he didn't get the sense that he was being scammed. Much to his dismay. That just left the cat. Spamton hesitantly shifted his attention towards the shadow guy, only for Jongler to immediately throw up his arm between them.

"He can only reads sheet music."

Yeah– Spamton was inclined to believe that. Of course, there was still the odd chance that this guy just tossed it in without thinking much of it. Although, given how aloof he seems, Spamton highly doubted anyone in the writers room would let him through the door. Those guys were ruthless. Hell, some days not even Tenna and Spamton were allowed in there. Taking a hold of his chin, the rookie host got to thinking.

That just left him with three options. The first being that he blames Jongler. Which was very tempting considering the bastard hasn't stopped glowering at him since they started talking. Second is that he tries to sweep it under the rug with some smooth talk. That was usually easy enough. The only problem with that however was no matter how sweet he talked Tenna would always remember this royal fuck up, and the utter lack of accountability as well as making a lousy first impression as his second in command would dangle over him forever. 

That just left Spamton with one option: cut out the middle man entirely and take the blame for himself. No bullshit strings attached. Just him stepping up to the plate as a man and taking a big bite out of that shitty humble pie, and oh boy was he not looking forward to that. Spamton took one last look up towards the zapper… was it still too late to pin the blame on him? Gnawing guilt told him yes, which was rather unfortunate. That guy was a pill– still, he was a pill worth swallowing considering all the help these three have been to the production so far. 

If the cat, or Pluey rather, Battat and Jongler hadn't acted as fast as they all did rearranging that set, then all four of them would have been out of a job. Among other things that Spamton was still hesitant to name. Those lights, actors, and scripts didn't magically rearrange themselves after all, and fixing a snafu that bad in one minute flat was no joke. If vouching for these nut cases is what it took to keep up with perfectionist "Mike" then he'd better not piss in the gift horses' mouth. Spamton let out a sigh through his nose before pulling his hand away from his face with a far too confident smile.

"I'll [Late Nights With Ant] to [[Cathode]]."

He said no more than that as he patted Battat on the shoulder and headed back towards the stage. Just to make them sweat a little. Why not, Spamton thought to himself with a smirk. It builds character.

"We are so canned."

***

It wasn't until Elnina and Lanino had taken over to host the days' weather that Tenna had caught a glimpse of Spamton again. Enjoying the admittedly not great coffee as he watched the stage. He winced after the first sip of the stuff, and Tenna allowed himself a quiet chuckle at his expense. Spamton seemed to have caught that, and with a smirk quietly pointed towards the "On Air" sign above their heads. In retaliation Tenna stuck his tongue out ever so slightly before the lights flicked back over to him. Tennas' playfulness was gone in an instant, shifted to a practiced neutral expression before he relayed the daily news to darkner kind.

Given that the feed was live and the lightners couldn't really see or hear him right now, Tenna supposed he could say anything. However, as a professional entertainer, Tenna had standards. Even if the Dark World was far removed from the realms of politics, death, and high fashion, the people still demanded to be in the know. So, with his fellow darkners as his witness, he would provide them what they wanted.

"In recent news, an annoying menace has been spotted running over random pedestrians in Cyber City for weeks." Tenna warned, giving his full focus to the camera with a steely expression, "Racing at incredible speeds in their Tikes Coupe 79', this shaggy miscreant has zero regard for darkner decency! So if you happen to be walking the streets of Plug n' Play, be on the lookout. His next target could be YOU!"

Tenna made sure to point towards the camera for dramatic effect, and the live audience became awash of concerned murmurs as they took in the news. All reports noted that the dog was relatively harmless. Only going after two people so far– who were noted as being rather rude. However, news was news, and Tenna was committed to reporting it. He shuffled his papers and moved on to the next topic. Card Kingdom was hosting another bake sale, Music Empires' darling artist released yet another modern classic of an album, and TV World still had the hottest shows around. 

So, all and all, business as usual.

"That's all for the afternoon news," He relayed, pausing between a few sad "awws" from the crowd, "but be sure to tune back in later this evening for an exciting new addition to TV Time! The show you've all come to know and love is getting a Brand New overhaul folks, and you won't want to miss it!"

The announcement immediately changed the crowds' tune, and as Tenna took his final bow the applause from the audience made for a pleasant exit for the mid day performance. Not bad for it just being the news. On instinct Tenna had very nearly called for Mike to prep the stage for the next segment, but at the sight of a small costumed stranger trotting his way forward he bit his tongue. The new "Mike", apparently. He chanced a glance towards Spamton, catching his attention between a chat with Lanino, and with a smile that was just a bit too wide the mailman raised his thumb. Reassuring him like a rotten little liar.

"M-Mr. Tenna. Sir?"

Shifting his attention to the poor pippin who'd gotten roped up into all of this Tenna sighed. It wasn't his fault Spamton was the sort of guy who fixed sinking ships with band-aids. He's just the sucker that got duped into sticking it there. So, for the stagehands' sake, he could play along.

"Hey Mike. Whaddya got for me?"

Thankfully that did the trick, and with a far less strained smile, "Mike" perked right back up.

"The set for the latest episode of Cookin' With Tenna is ready to go!" He began, handing Tenna the script with an eager little wave as he presented the papers, "We just need ya to approve these while we finish cooking the final dish before we prepare the measured ingredients for presentation."

So that's what that good smell was. Tenna thought he'd smelled a roast. Well, if the dish tasted half as good as it smelled, he hardly doubted the script was all too disastrous. Easiest sign off of his life, that was for sure. Tenna handed the papers back, confident with his lines after a casual flip through, and smiled warmly towards the mysterious stagehand.

"Thank you." He commended, "I'll be back in twenty minutes for the shoot. Keep up the great work."

Tenna supposed he could say what he wanted about Spamtons' methods but the man got results, and he certainly knew how to pick 'em. This stranger was no Mike, but he was shaping up to be an impressive replacement lead. Taking the compliment in stride, "Mike" bowed before scurrying back off towards the set. Leaving Tenna with a welcome twenty minutes to breathe, and he knew just how he wanted to spend them. Spamton was still in the middle of some form or other of mingled small talk with Lanino when Tenna had made up some excuse about needing to see the mailman in his office. Taking him by the wrist as he whisked him away, Tenna couldn't help feeling like a younger crt as he stifled a childish giggle and led the pair of them off. 

"What [Generosity] Ant? I was [~Stuck in the middle with you~] of gettin' my ear talked [50% Off!] about [This Week on Island of Love]."

He sounded so offended. At least, he would if it weren't for the fact that he was laughing too. Once the two of them were standing at their dressing room Tenna flipped his back towards the open door before grabbing Spamton by the lapels of his jacket with an eager grin.

"Why don't we give them something to talk about for a change?" 

His partners' smile quickly matched his own and the moment Tenna pulled Spamton in the man dove headfirst for a heated kiss, promptly kicking the door shut behind them. The limited time they had together kept the two of them restrained, but somehow that just made things more fun. Allowing the pair to make out like a couple of teens at a high school dance. That is, before the identical twin surprises the pair and whisks the startled love interest away– in true telenovela fashion. Though it was clear after a while that neither of them had the energy to get all that frisky anyway. The both of them still clearly tired from the long night before as Spamton opted to kiss Tennas' neck and bury his face into his shoulder. 

The gesture, while lazy, was far more romantic than he'd been expecting. Not that Tenna was complaining. He happily welcomed it all the same. Playful chuckles seamlessly melted into content sighs as Tenna tipped his head back even further against the arm of the couch, giving Spamton all the access to those cords that he wanted.

"Hey, Spamton?"

The man in question hummed against his throat in lieu of an answer, sending a pleasant tingle down Tennas' spine.

"I've been thinking," He began, before he stopped himself.

Tenna had been thinking about a lot of things. His impending death, the show, his legacy– but how was he even supposed to broach something of this magnitude? Where to even begin?

"About [[HYPERLINK BLOCKED]]?"

For a moment Tenna just laid there blinking until it clicked. Spamton couldn't say it, could he?

"Yes," He answered for him, "about the prophecy."

Tennas' grip on Spamton tightened.

"How much time do you think I've got? Realistically speaking?"

Spamton was quiet for a long while, simply wrapping his arms around Tennas' shoulders and holding him closer, and just as Tenna had given up on the prospect of him saying anything at all he finally spoke.

"…That's [Never in a Million Years] gonna happen. I [Access Denied] to let that happen."

Oh. Oh goodness dear– and here he thought he was the one sinking in denial. Running his hands through those slicked back feathers Tenna could still feel a touch of softness from the plumes underneath. He should really consider ditching the gel. His feathers were so much prettier without it. Expressive too, although the clear distress on display now was hardly relieving to see.

"Okay Spammy," Tenna assured with a kiss against his temple, "we don't have to talk about this right now."

What more was there to say? At least one of them was still keeping his head held high. Tenna just never expected that out of the two of them it would be Spamton. Although, he was grateful for that. Always full of surprises, his little mailman.