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Rainy days weren’t common in Castle Town, but when it did manage to rain, it came with strong winds and booming lightning. Spamton turns his gaze from the rustling grass to the porch overhang as the hush of rain settles in around him. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, puffing out a few rings of smoke. Tenna was supposed to be home half an hour ago, but that wasn’t too unusual. Sometimes recording goes into overtime, contestants don’t behave as well as they should, among the many other issues of showbiz. Spamton doesn’t miss that life. Still, as unsurprising as his partner’s lateness is, it doesn’t stop him from standing out in bad weather to make sure Tenna comes home safe.
Just as Spamton begins to put out his cigarette, a bright, warm glow lights up the streets, working its way into the driveway. An easy smile works its way across Spamton’s face upon seeing Tenna get out of the Cungadero, though it quickly leaves once he sees the static that riddles the Darkner’s screen.
“R0ugh day?” Spamton says with concern. Tenna closes the car’s door and starts heading towards the front door, but no reply comes. The CRT instead walks right past him and into their living room.
Spamton turns quickly from the porch and follows behind Tenna, his eyebrows knitting together. He takes his glasses off and sets them on the table near the entranceway.
“[[SWEETHE@RT]], you know you can t@lk-” Spamton stops in his tracks as he sees Tenna half-heartedly shrug his suit off and curl up on their sofa. Tenna had shrunk himself down a couple of feet, only a few inches taller than Spamton now. He buries his screen against one of the It’s TV Time!™ branded pillows as static hisses from his audio jacks.
This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but neither of the two knew how to explain what exactly “this” was. All Spamton knew was that the last thing he wanted was for Tenna not to feel safe and cared for, no matter how much of a sucker it made him. He grabs a box from the ottoman that sits next to the sofa and takes off the lid. Inside was an array of comforting items that Spamton had stowed away for Tenna’s “moments.” The first thing he grabs is a fuzzy, red weighted blanket with yellow stars on it. He struggles for a moment to get it over his shoulder– it was weighted with Tenna’s size in mind, after all– but ultimately shrugs it over. Spamton then picks up a sensory-themed cardboard book. It has simple drawings depicting different weather patterns, but the theme of it wasn’t really important. It was something for Tenna to occupy himself with in hopes of calming him down.
With each item grabbed, Spamton hops up onto the couch, slinking the blanket onto the cushions and placing the book down. He gently places his hand on Tenna’s shoulder, giving it a small rub.
“Want a blanket, [Angel]?” Tenna’s screen was still full of static, but it went from a greyish-black to a light grey. He gives a light nod before sitting himself up close to Spamton.
Spamton drapes the blanket over both of them, making sure it covers all of Tenna’s body. Tenna’s vacant expression fades as a smile leaps to his screen. The smaller Darkner sighs, happy to see him a bit cheerier. It feels weird to see the larger-than-life TV host dreary, sad and dare he say, glooby. The two had had their fair share of anger-filled spats, loud arguments and downright ugly fights in the past, but Castle Town gave them an opportunity to start over. It had been who knows how long since they last saw each other, but with both washed-up has-beens becoming a bit more mature, a little less mean and a whole lot more forgiving, they decided to give each other a second chance. Moments like these, with Tenna resting his head against Spamton’s shoulder, his cooling fans slowly quieting as his anxiety fades away, makes Spamton wonder why he ever threw it all away.
Before he can think about their past for too much longer, Spamton feels a slight tug at his dress shirt.
“Mmn...” Tenna makes a quiet hum with his lips as he points to the book splayed open next to Spamton.
“I completely [[forgot]]! Thanks for r3minding me, [[BIG SHOT!]].” He gives a tired grin before handing the book to the grabby hands waiting in anticipation.
“Hey.”
“[[H3Y]]!!”
Spamton lets out a grumble as he snatches the book from the babbling TV’s mouth with little resistance. Tenna’s screen turns a light shade of red in annoyance as a high-pitched whine leaves his lips. He kicks his feet against the couch, reaching in the air for his stolen toy.
“Books are [[NOT!!!]] for mouths, you [[Funky Little Worm!]]” Spamton brings the ottoman closer by snagging his foot in the opening of it and dragging it flush against the couch. He wipes the book off with a cloth and sets it aside once more. He digs through the box, pushing colorful toys and packets of wet wipes out of the way.
“Do you want your paci? Or the [[Ring?]]” He huffs, pulling out a key-ring looking toy with several different chewable silicone options attached; a yellow star, a blue remote with clickable buttons and a red microphone. In Spamton’s other hand is a bright yellow pacifier decorated with all kinds of stickers, each sticker hand-picked by Tenna, of course.
Tenna’s screen lightens from the previously angry red to a relaxed pink. He turns his head to look at both options in front of him and eventually points to the pacifier after careful consideration. However, he still has his mouth drawn in a pout.
“[WHAT]? Whatcha still grumpy about? No [[FROWNY FACES!] here!” Spamton halfheartedly furrows his eyebrows. He couldn’t ever be truly mad at Tenna now, especially not when he’s like this, but he can’t help but rile up this very opinionated little guy.
Tenna purses his lips and moves his pointed finger from the pacifier to the book behind Spamton. Spamton rolls his eyes, but grabs the book regardless.
“Yes. Yes, you can have the [BOOK] back, but only if you promise to chew [[Only for a limited time!]] on your pacifier. Not your book. [[OUR DEAL]]?” Spamton raises an eyebrow at the manipulative CRT, while using his unoccupied hand to grab the wanted book.
Tenna considers this offer for a moment, putting his hand under his chin... before nodding. Spamton lets out a sigh and delicately places the pacifier to Tenna’s mouth. He concedes to the tyke’s demands and puts the book in Tenna’s lap. He scoots in close and puts an arm around his shoulder.
“Want me to r3ad to you?” Tenna nods and hurriedly wiggles his way onto Spamton’s lap, eliciting a chuckle from the puppet.
“Okay, okay... once upon a time...”
~
Spamton quietly shuts the cardboard book and puts it aside, a serene smile on his face. Tenna has fallen asleep, a light whir of his fans emulating what Spamton can only assume is the TV equivalent of a snore. He bounces Tenna on his knee back and forth in a steady rhythm, humming as he thinks to himself what exactly happened at work to set Tenna off like this. Tenna only acted like this in moments of severe stress, and even then he rarely let himself slip. It was only recently that he felt safe enough to confide in Spamton about his… moments.
He spilled everything about his previous experiences. How he’d cry and cry for hours by himself, feeling so unsafe, so scared... alone. Not knowing why everything seemed so big and scary when he had just been in control. Tenna even told him how much it hurt during the Big Shot days to be told to “stop being such a baby” by Spamton. It was a harsh thing he had said in a moment of fiery rage. The studio hadn’t been doing well and Tenna’s emotional outbursts had affected the crew to a point that episodes took much longer to come out, further affecting when Spamton’s ads got rolled and how much he got paid. Looking back, it was one of the many many regrets Spamton had from that period.
It hurts knowing how much he furthered Tenna’s spiraling then, sinking his self-esteem further and further down a dark, endless pit. He can’t imagine how Tenna must have felt, feeling so out of control of his own body and having his so-called ‘partner’ mock him for it. Not only mock him, but disregard his feelings entirely. At that point in his life, if something came in the way of Spamton’s earnings, it got destroyed. No matter if the one in his way was someone he loved.
Spamton shakes his head back and forth, snapping out of the intense self-loathing he felt for his prior actions. It didn’t matter right now. Not anymore. Life is different now. He can’t change what he did in the past, but he can change how he treats Tenna now. And right now... it’s almost midnight and Tenna is still in his work clothes. Spamton gives a gentle rub to the side of Tenna’s head, speaking in a hushed voice. (As hushed as he can be, given his uncontrollable soundbytes.)
“Time for bed, [[Big Shot!]]. No sleeping on the c0uch tonight.”
Tenna’s black screen slowly turns to a light grey, albeit a bit staticky. He swings his arms around Spamton’s neck, making a whining noise that muffles against his chest.
“0kay okay, I get it, just give me a [[Sweet Sweet]] minute!”
Spamton’s back isn’t as strong as it used to be, but he does eventually hook his arms under Tenna’s legs and lifts him up as he stands. He lets out a strained groan, but holds the taller man up regardless. Tenna holds on tight to Spamton’s shirt as he’s brought from the living room to their bedroom. His screen turns from static to a bright blue as his pacifier falls from his mouth, whimpers that threaten tears following suit.
“It’s [[A-Okay!]]! It’s okay bud, just-” Spamton coos as he sets Tenna down on their king-sized bed, an unnecessary size for Spamton, but much needed for Tenna when he’s in his larger form. He picks up the tot’s pacifier and makes sure it’s clean before handing it back, calming the pint-sized crt down. Spamton turns towards their dresser and opens up the bottom drawer.
“You want [High Quality Silk!] ones tonight? Or footie pajamas?”
Tenna’s antennas perk up as the latter is mentioned, earning a high-pitched sound.
“Footie!”
Spamton smiles as he notices how much Tenna’s mood has lifted, even hearing a rare word from him. In this state Tenna usually stays near silent, but even he can’t hold back a happy noise when footed pajamas are mentioned.
“You got it, [Superstar!].” Spamton takes out the red footed pajamas from the drawer. They have yellow cuffs at the end of the sleeves and a yellow zipper in the back, tied together with the It’s TV Time!™ logo printed all over it. Spamton sure did market a whole lot of weird products during daytime television’s heyday. He turns back to see Tenna’s screen an irritated shade of orange as he fidgets with his dress shirt buttons.
“I gotcha, [[Hold your horses!]] kiddo.” Spamton unbuttons Tenna’s shirt with ease and pulls it off, along with his dress pants moments later. He then guides Tenna into his footed pajamas, making sure not to catch the soft fabric on any of the CRT’s metal hinges. With one last zip, Tenna was ready for bed.
They curl up together on the oversized mattress, Tenna’s forehead pressed against Spamton’s chest while Spamton’s arms wrap around the TV’s back. Spamton rubs his back in slow, soothing circles as he softly hums a tune he can’t quite place. Tenna tangles his legs between Spamton’s, holding as tight as he can; as if to make sure Spamton never lets go.
Spamton could never forgive himself if he did.
Before Spamton’s eyes draw to a close, before the embrace of dreamland washes over, he hears Tenna’s voice, faint yet clear.
“Love you Spams...”
Spamton presses a kiss to the top of Tenna’s head.
“Love you too.”