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, prime time!"
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, Only $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's been given him. His career. His connections. The improved control over his voice.
Yet, despite all of that, the studio crew here were the first real friends Spamton has ever had. With Tenna hopefully on the verge of becoming 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.