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Today was going to be a busy day in TV world. There was an all-day (well, twelve hour, which was practically all day) live show for halloween, and everyone had been working to the bone for the past month to finish setting everything up in time, Mike most of all. Honestly, Pluey had no clue how one darkner could possibly do everything Tenna asked Mike to do, but they didn’t really care to try and figure it out. Battat probably had an explanation, but, admittedly, they didn't care that much, they’d just needed to focus on getting their own work done.
Jongler took the morning shift, since Tenna was most likely to need the muscle then and they’d wanted to get their shift over with rather than deal with the waiting. Pluey was going to take the afternoon, and Battat would have the evening. When Pluey took over from Jongler, they’d seemed a bit tired, but not exhausted, which was a good sign. The newest iteration of their jacket seemed to be working pretty well sensory-wise so far, which was great news.
Their own shift was running fairly smoothly. There had been a couple iffy spots, but Tenna was in a good mood, and overall everything was as it should be. There was a concert happening about three-quarters of the way through Pluey’s shift, and Tenna was taking a scheduled break, sitting next to them and petting them while they both enjoyed the music. Just then, Pluey’s staff comm went off.
“Lights to Mike, there’s a problem. One of the spotlights is broken, and it looks like it’s a problem with the motors rather than anything we can fix back here.”
Tenna hissed through his teeth, grabbing the thing from their hands as he spoke, “Do you have anyone available to go up and fix it?”
“Hey Mr. Tenna. No, we don’t, otherwise we wouldn’t have contacted Mike. Can someone be sent over?”
Tenna and Pluey made eye contact (kind of). Everyone would be busy with the concert, or setting up for the next part of the show. The only non-Tenna person available was Mike, who wouldn’t say no if Tenna asked, and who probably knew how to fix the problem better than Tenna did.
There was just one problem. Pluey was terrified of heights.
Immediately, they activated their Mike headset’s mic (which was hidden in their costume nose, because it was cute) through the panic button in their paw-glove. If they could get one of the others to take care of it, then they wouldn’t have to go up there. Hopefully Tenna would explain the situation at least a little, because they couldn’t talk like this without giving themself away. (That’s why they’d needed the Mike mic on the outside of their costume, rather than on the inside like the other two.)
“You can take care of things up there, right, Mike?” Tenna asked, practically nonchalant in a way that clashed horribly with the way the situation shot ice through their veins. They mimed calling and then gestured vaguely at the different department stations. If one of the other two were to show up out of costume, that would be great, or hey, maybe they’d get lucky and someone else would be available! Maybe!
“Oh, come on, Mike, it’s one of the spotlights!” Tenna whined. “This is important, we can’t dawdle around calling up everyone under the sun to see if they’re available! You’re here right now, aren’t you?” That was some of the information the others needed, but Tenna was already looking impatient. They might not be able to stall, and he’d just dismissed the idea of calling around. Shit. Okay, maybe they could go and just wait around there for one of the others? Maybe? They hadn’t responded at all, and Tenna was getting upset, so they nodded.
“Great! Now get up there. I want you to take care of it, I can’t trust anyone else to actually fix it properly. Besides, even if you do fall, cats always land on their feet, am I right?” He joked, turning and speaking into Pluey’s staff mic, letting them know help was coming. Pluey could only hear static as they tried to stay calm through their fear and the flash of not-exactly-dysphoria that line brought them. Okay. So much for their idea of having one of the others do it out of costume. They cut their Mike mic, now that help wouldn’t be possible. Tenna was handing them their other mic back, and they barely kept grip of it. They stood and tried to seem normal as they gave Tenna a cartoonish salute and started making their way to the upper level.
On the way, they contacted lighting again, and were told which spotlight was out, as well as it’s location. They just had to fix the one thing, they wouldn’t be up there that long, it would be fine. They really needed to get a designated maintenance department, how this hadn’t been a problem before, they had no idea.
Climbing the stairs, while usually something that wouldn’t be a problem, filled them with cold dread. It only worsened as they got farther from the ground and could see the lack of proper railings with increasing clarity. Part of them tried to hope that the light would be relatively easy to access, but they knew it was futile. If there was a stable walkway, someone from lights probably would’ve already taken care of it.
They navigated across the most stable main catwalks (the ones that actually had railings) until they saw the spotlight. It was pretty far out from the main path, and only accessible by walking across the metal support trusses. With the gaps, they’d have to look down the entire time, see how far they were from ground, how easily they could fall and break bones or end up as a shadowguy-shaped impact crater in the floor of the studio, if they wanted a hope of staying on the thing. They felt nauseous. Squinting from here, they couldn’t see what the problem was, either. So much for that. Taking deep breaths, they took off their paw gloves, leaving them on the main walkway. They needed as much grip as they could get for this, and they didn’t have anywhere to attach them to the costume.
Crouching down, they began to crawl across the metal truss. They felt most of their brain immediately screaming at them to leave, go back to safety, they were going to fall, the set would break, they weren’t supposed to be so far from ground. Deep breaths were failing them, so they started humming along with the music from the concert. That was a bit better, even if their humming sounded painfully strangled on some of the notes.
They tried to move relatively quickly, but it felt like they were moving in slow motion, fighting through molasses to release any point of contact and keep going forward. They felt nauseous, cold terror acidic at the back of their throat. Don’t throw up in the head, they thought desperately. Just breathe, keep humming, it’s just a little more, come on, it’s alright, nothing is breaking. Part of them wished the music wasn’t there so they could listen for any creaks in the metal, but the rest of them was happy for the distraction, however small.
Either the song was longer than they remembered, or time had slowed down as they climbed across. They could’ve sworn they had been up there for an hour, yet the seven minute song still hadn’t finished. Hysterically, they wondered how Tenna could handle his head being so far from the ground all the time, especially with how big he could get when angry. Their own mind kept flashing images of themself losing their grip, slipping and falling to their death, the moment of sheer panic as their hand or foot failed to make contact. They couldn’t stop moving or they’d never move again.
Finally, finally, they made it to the spotlight, and they could have cried from sheer relief as the song ended with a triumphant note. …They would need their hands for this. Fuck, how to shift to sitting? They eventually negotiated into basically straddling the truss, reasoning that position would provide the most stability and require the least moving around in the moment. How they would turn around was a problem for future Pluey. Distantly they heard someone talking in their headset, but they couldn’t process it over their own blood rushing in their ears.
Hopefully this would be a simple fix, they could barely think straight. Scanning the outside briefly, it didn’t look like anything was blocking movement, and nothing seemed to be unplugged, so there went two easy solutions.
Carefully, thankful their tail was helping them keep their balance, they got to work, looking to see if anything was out of place or obviously broken. Nothing. They swore quietly. Their hands were shaking, they couldn’t do repairs like this, why were they even there, they weren’t qualified, this whole situation was so fucked.
Their staff comm went off and they nearly screeched. “Hey Mike, so, funny story…” came the same voice from earlier. They sounded nervous, or maybe like they were holding back laughter. Not that there was anything to laugh about. “As it turns out, uh, we hadn’t plugged in the controller for the spotlight. It works fine, the problem was on our end after all. So! Uh. Sorry for the inconvenience, pleasedon’tfireme—”
Pluey could have sobbed then and there. Or maybe broken the damn spotlight themself. Their hands felt numb and were shaking uncontrollably, which was terrifying, since they still had to get back to solid ground. They were so high up. The set was going to break, they were going to break, all that would be left of them would be a shadowy smear on the ground far, far, far below. They felt sick, their head was spinning. How in the entire fuck were they going to turn around?
They momentarily had the thought of crawling backwards across the beam, but immediately and violently dismissed it. Too scary. Way, way too scary, they needed to see, so they had to turn around. But that was so unstable!
A gasp wrenched it’s way out of them as their body forced them to take in air. Right. Breathing. Trying to mentally steady themself, they took long, slow breaths, gaze fixed horizontally in a way that theoretically should have helped their vertigo but really made it more obvious how there was no ground beneath them.
Carefully, they negotiated their way back to the crawling position they were in earlier, facing the spotlight. From there, they turned around, making sure to keep at least three points of contact with the metal truss, too terrified to close their eyes as their head moved over the empty air. Both of their arms were trembling. They couldn’t even hum anymore, incoherently and near-silently pleading with nothing that they would survive.
As the next song (and the concert portion of the show) ended, Pluey had finally made it back to the catwalk and its beloved railings and solidity. They collapsed on the ground, laying flat with as much of them touching the stable catwalk as possible. They didn’t even have the presence of mind to try and put on their gloves, just laying there shaking as they mentally repeated the mantra of do not throw up in the suit.
As the applause faded out, they felt more than heard or saw a zapper approaching. Blindly, they grabbed for where their gloves should be, scrambling to protect their identity. “It’s alright, Plues. It’s just me,” they said soothingly. Jongler. They opened their eyes as they sat up (when had they closed them?) and sure enough, there they were, just a couple feet away.
They grabbed for their partner, limbs uncooperative, Jongler already moving to sit next to them. They let Pluey cling to them and surrounded Pluey with their sturdy, solid arms. Safe, they were safe now. They finally let out a sob, pressing their face into Jongler’s shoulder (damn the cat head, making this difficult). Jongler gently ran their fingers through Pluey’s fur, softly murmuring something Pluey couldn’t catch over their own crying.
After a couple minutes, Jongler asked, “D’ya wanna get outta here?” Pluey just nodded, not letting go of their partner. One of Jongler’s arms left Pluey’s side briefly, grabbing their gloves before repositioning. “I’m gonna carry ya, alright?” They nodded again, letting Jongler manhandle them into a relatively comfortable bridal carry.
Pluey let out a high-pitched squeak when Jongler picked them up, harshly tightening their grip in a sudden panic at the instability. Jongler paused once they were standing, giving Pluey time to adjust. “…You’s okay? D’ya still want me ta carry ya?”
Pluey didn’t know. They didn’t think they could walk, though, not with how badly they were shaking. Why were they still shaking? Why did it feel like their thoughts were so muffled? They still felt sick. Eventually they nodded, briefly releasing one arm’s grip on Jongler to make a talking motion with their hand before holding onto them again.
“Ya want me ta keep talkin’? Alright. I can do dat,” they said, beginning to move back to the Mike room. “Batts wanted me ta see if I could get ya out of da costume before takin’ ya back, since he didn’t want anyone seein’ Mike gettin’ carried around, but I didn’t see anyone on da way over, so I think we’s alright. He’s started his shift now, by da way, said somethin’ about payin’ ya back for somethin', an’ I dunno what dat’s about. Anyways..."
Pluey hummed, enjoying Jongler’s warmth even as their brain screamed at them about how unsafe and unstable this was. Jongler continued rambling for the rest of the trip, not expecting any kind of responses, their voice a comforting rhythm.
Sure enough, they didn’t meet anyone on the way back, but Pluey was still shaking severely by the time they were gently set down on the couch. Jongler started to pull away, but Pluey let out a whine and held tight, refusing to let them leave.
“I’m just gonna get some water for ya, Plues. It’s alright, I’m not leavin’ ya,” they said, carefully prying Pluey’s hands off their uniform. Pluey let them, arms and tail curling around themself in a self-hug.
Jongler returned fairly quickly with a couple cups of water, setting them down on the end table. “D’ya wanna take ya costume off?” they asked, still standing. Ugh. It wasn’t a bad idea, they felt pretty gross, but they still felt physically weak and didn’t have the coordination to deal with it right now.
They nodded, then pointed at Jongler, uncurling from the self-hug but not otherwise moving. “…Ya want me ta take ya costume off?” Emphatic nod. “Alright, I can do dat,” they said, moving in close.
Jongler didn’t speak while taking off the costume, concentrating on not accidentally ripping the fabric. The head came off first, and the cooler air was a relief for their overheated skin. Jongler didn’t have much expression, but Pluey could tell they hid a wince at seeing exactly how upset Pluey was. They pressed their face to Pluey’s forehead in a kiss before moving on. Pluey was trying to help where they could, but between the brain fog, the shaking, and how weak their muscles still felt, they couldn’t do very much. They felt so useless, they wanted to cry. It wasn’t fair, Jongler shouldn’t have to take care of them like this, they hadn’t even gotten hurt, they were just being a scaredy-cat.
Eventually, their costume was finally removed. Now that it was off, and they actually had air circulation, they realized how horribly sweaty and gross they really felt, and they didn't have the capacity to deal with that right now. Their tail would be lashing back and forth if it was still on, but it wasn’t attached, so they just felt miserable. Jongler pulled out a spare notebook and pencil from the end table, holding it out to them. "Whaddya need, Plues?" they asked, still in the same soothing tone from earlier.
Thankfully they could still hold a pencil to write, though their handwriting was much shakier than normal. They didn’t have the mental space to figure out proper sentences right now. “Clean, water, cuddle, you love me, fix shaky. Not ordered,” they wrote, showing it to Jongler.
“Okay. Well, water’s right here, d’ya need help drinking? I can get a straw,” Jongler said after a moment. Pluey held up two fingers. “Alright, be right back.”
Sure enough, they returned with one of Pluey’s silly straws, placing it in one of the cups and handing it to Pluey. They drank about half the cup immediately, happy they didn’t have to worry as much about spilling it on themself. As they drank, Jongler sat next to them, one arm around their waist.
“Can ya explain what ya meant by dis?” Jongler asked after a minute, pointing to ‘you love me’ on the paper. “‘Cause obviously I do love ya, I just dunno what ya want me ta do about it right now.”
Pluey fiddled with their straw for a few moments, trying to figure it out themself. Eventually they wrote out, “Scared. Tell me ok, you love me. Hug, kiss, cuddle.” It felt embarrassing writing it out like this, but they did ask, and it would be mean to not clarify.
Jongler read it and immediately pulled them more into a hug (almost into their lap), petting them gently, fingers tangling in their hair. They spoke softly, almost like coaxing in a stray cat, “I love ya, Plues. I’m so happy you’s here with me, safe in my arms. Everythin’s okay now, alright? You’s okay. You’s so brave, Plues. I love ya so much, Batts does too. We both love you’s more dan words can say."
Pluey felt the tears coming back, taking a drink. “Brave?” they questioned, trying to get their emotions together at least a little bit. Why was this getting to them so much? They’d literally asked for it!
“Yeah, you’s really brave. I know you’s got dat phobia, but ya still went up dere, an’ dat took guts, Plues. Hell, I woulda been terrified, I was terrified, an’ I’m not even scared of heights, I wasn't even up dere! I can’t imagine how ya got through dat…” they trailed off for a second. “You’s could’ve gotten so hurt, Plues.” The last line came out much quieter than the rest, almost choked.
Pluey looked up. Jongler wasn’t crying, not technically, but they were definitely close to tears. They curled around Pluey slightly, continuing to pet them. They cleared their throat. “But you’s okay now. You’s here, an’ safe, an’ I’m so happy you ain’t injured.”
Pluey frowned slightly. They pointed at Jongler and gave a thumbs up, vocalizing a question. Jongler just sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of their head. “Yeah, I’m okay, Plues. I just worry, especially when you’s or Batts is doin’ somethin’ like dat. It’s dangerous, an’ I’m sorry I couldn’t get dere sooner. Ya shouldn’t’ve had ta deal with dat, but ya made it out okay, an’ I’m so proud of ya,” they punctuated the statement with a squeeze that knocked the air from Pluey’s lungs in the best possible way.
They were crying properly again. Jongler loosened the hug after a couple seconds, “Ah, sorry, dat was too hard, wasn’t it? Squeezed da tears right outta ya,” they joked, cradling their face ever so gently as they wiped away Pluey’s tears. Pluey shook their head, starting to smile as they gave a thumbs up. It was a little too hard, but in a good way.
They stayed there and cuddled for a little bit, Pluey purring and enjoying Jongler petting them. Eventually Jongler looked back at the list Pluey made.
“Alright, we can stay here for a bit longer, or we can getcha cleaned up, whichever one ya want. Or I can make us somethin’ ta eat, an’ den we can do somethin’ else. I know food isn’t on da list, but it’s still important."
Pluey extended their hand flat in front of their face, testing how shaky they still were. It had gone down some, but they were still visibly trembling. Honestly, they didn’t want to move, but they knew they should probably at least try to do something to make themself feel better.
“We can cuddle until ya stop shakin’, how’s dat sound?” they asked, ever-accommodating. Pluey shrugged. They really didn’t want to move, they still felt pretty dizzy, but they didn’t know how long it had been since Jongler last ate, and they knew how both their partners could get about routines.
“Carry to kitchen if you hungry,” they wrote. Jongler processed what they were trying to say, giving a half-laugh when they realized.
“You’s tryin’ ta make me have ta decide, huh?” They shook their head while grinning ear to ear, clearly teasing.
“Alright, well, I was just gonna make somethin’ quick for lunch anyway, but if ya want somethin’ specific I can try gettin’ that for ya?” Pluey shook their head. They weren’t really hungry, honestly still too worried about making themself sick to feel anything even close to hunger.
“Dat’s alright. I think we have some leftover fishcakes, I know ya like those.” Pluey immediately perked up. A part of them wondered if they were really that easy. Yes, yes they were. Fishcakes were always safe, always good, always a food they could rely on even when they weren’t hungry. They hadn’t known they still had some leftover, they thought they’d finished them off days ago!
Jongler smiled, “Thought that’d get you’s attention! You’s okay ta get picked up?” Pluey wrapped their arms around Jongler (making sure to keep hold of their notebook and pencil), nodding. Jongler picked them up bridal-style, pressing a kiss to the top of their head. The instability made Pluey nervous for a moment, but Jongler stayed still, strong as ever, until Pluey signaled they could move again. A warm glow filled Pluey’s chest at the thoughtfulness, and they purred as they kissed their partner, pleased when Jongler blushed slightly but didn’t falter, setting them down gently at the kitchen table. They pet Pluey on the top of their head, ruffling their hair, before getting the leftovers from the fridge.
Pluey watched as Jongler started reheating the fishcakes on the stove, noticing how their movements became more confident, more certain of where their hands needed to be. It was always a delight watching Jongler cook, even if it was as small as reheating food. They were so in love, they were surprised they didn’t have literal heart eyes by this point.
“ ( ˘ ³˘)♡ ”
“Love you’s too, Plues,” Jongler said, ruffling their hair again.
There was comfortable silence for a minute, save for the sizzling of the oil. Then, “Y’know, Batts was real worried when ya didn’t respond at all on da headset earlier, an’ I gotta admit, I was too. Was someone with ya? What happened, Plues?”
Pluey frowned. “Didn’t hear anything to respond to? Confused,” they wrote. “Either don’t remember or never heard.”
Jongler squinted at their writing, equally confused. “Batts is gonna be real pissed if this is a technical problem, he was so confident he’d gotten everythin’ set up properly,” they mused. “Ya didn’t hear anythin’ from us da whole time?”
Pluey fidgeted with the pencil, thinking. Most of their memory was clouded by white-hot terror, but… “Maybe something? Couldn’t hear words, but was panicking. Unsure. What said?”
“Huh. Okay, we can test dat later, after we eat, if ya remember for me,” they said, flipping the cakes. “I think Batts was askin’ where ya were, what backup ya needed, somethin’ like dat, I dunno exactly. He asked a couple times, an’ ya didn’t respond at all. He was fearin’ the worst for a minute dere.”
“ (◞‸◟; ) ” Pluey apologized, slumping slightly in their seat.
“Hey, ‘s not like ya wanted ta be so scared ya couldn’t hear properly, an’ you’s already know how Batts freaks out sometimes. It’s okay, Plues. We still love ya, don’t go forgettin’ dat now,” they pointed at Pluey with the spatula assertively.
“ (≧ω≦)ゞ ” they said, smiling. Jongler grinned, booping their nose (with their hand, not the spatula) before getting a couple of plates and serving lunch.
They ate together, sitting in comfortable silence. Pluey still didn’t know how Jongler could eat without having a mouth, bites of the food just kinda disappeared when they brought it to the lower part of their face. Battat had tried to figure it out at one point, but gave up before he really got anywhere, having been thoroughly distracted by some new Mike drama.
The food was really good, perfectly crisped and tasting divine, and Pluey couldn’t help but wiggle happily in their seat. Maybe it was a little silly for them to be this happy over something as small as leftovers, but they’d just gone through their own personal hell, so they’d take what they could get. They let themself be happy, and were graced by an extremely lovey smile from Jongler.
“Feelin’ better, Plues?” Pluey nodded, blushing slightly. Just because they mentally agreed to let themself be happy didn’t mean they were prepared to deal with being observed, alright?
“Good, dat’s real good ta hear,” they said warmly. “So, what’s da plan after dis? Ya want help gettin’ clean, or d’ya wanna cuddle da rest of da day away?”
Pluey smiled. “Tempting, but I think I should get clean first, I still feel all sweaty and gross. I shouldn’t need help, I feel much more stable now, thank you for making lunch.”
Jongler smiled, waving off their thanks. "No problem, I'm just happy I could help. Ya want me ta set up da shower chair?”
“ (｡•̀ᴗ-) b✧ ” they said, giving a thumbs up. They probably wouldn’t need it, but it would be good to have just in case.
They both finished eating, Pluey clearing the plates while Jongler set up the chair. They didn’t use it most of the time, and it took up too much space to justify having it out constantly, but when they needed it, it was truly a lifesaver.
They showered, noting that Jongler had brought them clean (and more comfortable) clothes while setting up the chair. God, they were such a sweetheart. They did end up using the chair in the end, not trusting their own senses enough to feel safe while their eyes were shut and were still feeling more than a little weak. They changed into the new clothes (a pair of cat-tessellated cozy pants, a t-shirt with a seal playing the saxophone, and a pair of pawprint socks) before heading back out. Jongler was sitting on the couch, and patted their lap invitingly when they noticed Pluey come out.
Pluey laid down on the couch, their head in Jongler's lap, and was immediately rewarded by being pet. They purred, finally starting to relax properly after their ordeal.
They always felt so safe when they were with their partners, and now was no exception. “^-ﻌ-^” they vocalized, nuzzling Jongler a little as they melted under their hands.
They felt themself starting to drift off, warm and comfortable, Jongler’s fingers scritching at their scalp just right. They wanted to thank Jongler properly, let them know how much they were appreciated, but they didn’t want to move and break the spell just to write. Instead, they pressed a kiss to their lap, sleepily purring, “ ( ˘ ³˘)♡ ”
“Love you’s too, Plues. Sleep well, enjoy ya catnap, I gotcha.” They spoke quietly, but the words permeated through every part of their mind, the feeling of safety so strong they could have cried if they were more awake. They fell asleep, dreaming of softness and warmth and stability.
An unknown amount of time later, Pluey woke to a clatter, followed by a hissed “Oh, shit!” from somewhere in the room. Their head was still in Jongler’s lap, though Jongler’s hand had stopped actively petting them and was just resting in their hair. Jongler was shaking slightly, possibly holding back a laugh. Blearily, they half-opened their eyes. Battat had gotten back, and was halfway out of his costume. The closet door was open, but they couldn’t see inside the closet to know what had fallen. Eh, probably not all that important, Battat didn’t seem to be freaking out.
“Don’t you start laughing, you can’t even move!” Battat whispered, straightening up and putting something away. He continued stripping out of his costume, clearly trying to be quiet about it.
“I’m not laughin’ at ya, promise,” Jongler murmured. Pluey could hear the smile in their voice and feel the barely-repressed giggle in their ever-so-slight tremor. They took a breath, calming the traitorous giggles before they spoke again. “Dey laid down like dis… ‘bout a couple hours ago? My leg’s numb, Batts.”
Battat covered his mouth, holding back laughter of his own at their deadpan delivery. “That sounds like your own fault, bozo!” he whispered, hanging up his suit pants.
Jongler shifted, probably shrugging if Pluey had to guess. There was quiet except for the shuffling of fabric for a few seconds, then Battat spoke again.
“They’re okay, though? No injuries, no lasting damage?” he whispered.
“Nah, dey’re alright. Seemed real glad ta be gettin’ outta dere, an’ dey were shakin’ horribly for a while, but dey’re okay now.”
Battat sighed in relief, shaking the stress from his hands. “Good… that’s good.”
More fabric sounds. Quieter than before, barely audible, “I was worried I’d messed something up, y’know?”
“How d’ya mean, Batts?”
“I chose being Mike instead of helping my partner. I know I made the decision pretty quickly in the moment, someone has to be Mike after all, but… I don’t know, my brain’s being dumb about shit.”
“Nah, ‘s not dumb. You’s worried about Plues same as I was, dat’s what dat is. An’ ya made da right decision. Someone needed ta be Mike or da whole show would’a gone down, an’ someone needed ta help Plues, an’ since dey were shakin’ so badly dey couldn’t walk, ya made da right choice about who needed ta do what. You’s alright.”
Battat took a shaking breath, covering his face for a few moments. He finally nodded, wiping his eyes.
“C’mere, Batts, ya need a kiss,” they murmured, moving their hand from Pluey’s head. Battat huffed, but came over, smiling as he let Jongler hold him close and press kisses all over his face.
“You’re gonna be a menace if you ever somehow get a mouth,” Battat joked as the onslaught ended.
“Oh, you’s have no idea,” Jongler said, drawing a giggle out of Battat.
He was within arm’s reach, out of costume, and Pluey had the opportunity. They wrapped their arms around him, grabbing him like a giant stuffed animal, and pulled him onto the couch with them, shifting off Jongler’s lap as they did so. Battat yelped loudly, about an octave higher than normal, and Jongler burst out laughing as soon as they’d realized what happened. They purred, victorious, nuzzling their face against the top of Battat’s head.
“How long were you awake?!” Battat demanded, gesturing wildly with the arm he had free. His face was getting warm, how cute. They kissed him once on the forehead, still purring loudly. Jongler was still giggling as they stretched out their leg, reveling in being able to move again.
Battat relaxed in their hold, starting to pet them. They loosened their grip now that he wasn’t immediately going to try and escape, kissing the top of his head a couple more times.
He sighed, burying his face in their shirt. “I’m glad you’re okay, Pluey,” he said quietly. “I’m… I really love you, alright? Both of you.”
“We love ya too, Batts,” Jongler said as Pluey kissed him again.
Pluey mimed writing, and Jongler passed them their notepad from the side table.
“I love you two so much. Thank you both for helping. Jongler, thank you for taking care of me and being an absolute sweetheart the whole time. Battat, thank you for taking over Mike duty for me and for being an angel trying not to wake me up. I’m sorry for worrying both of you. I’m really happy you’re my partners,” they wrote, letting Battat rotate in their cuddle so he could read it.
“Aw, no problem, Plues. I’m happy ta help. Love you’s too,” Jongler said, petting them. Battat nodded agreement, reaching up to give them a quick peck.
“Yeah, what they said. And don’t apologize for worrying us, you were the one in the terrible situation in the first place!”
They shrugged, but didn’t take it back. Jongler stood carefully, trying to avoid the pins and needles feeling. They seemed to mostly succeed, but still took a few seconds to lean over the couch. Battat moved to get up as well, but Pluey tightened their grip around him. No escape, cuddle time.
“Uh, Pluey? You gonna let me go?” Battat asked somewhat nervously. Pluey shook their head, starting to purr again. Jongler snickered, not bothering to hide it this time.
“Jongler. Jongler don’t leave me here.”
“Well, someone’s gotta cook dinner. Besides, look at deir cute lil face, I can’t take away deir new toy, dat’s cruel,” Jongler joked, stretching as they started to head for the kitchen.
Pluey put on their best cute kitty face, purring loudly. “ ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ ”
Battat groaned, resigning himself to his fate of being cuddled to death, at least for however long it took Jongler to cook dinner.