Chapter Text
If you asked Yellow about Spamton, he would grin, wave his hand as far as it could go without crouching, and call him short. Really, Spamton wasn't that short, considering his age. He still came up to Yellow's shoulders, and even his nose if he stood on his toes and jumped, a whole four years younger than the aforementioned ad, but what was brotherly love, if not relentless teasing? None of his words had any real malice behind them, of course. If even the possibility of Spamton being truly effected by his teasing crossed his mind, he would stop in an instant, but honestly, watching the advertisement whine and complain and shout out that he 'was not! I'll so outgrow you. I'll make you eat your words.' was far, far better than any other form of entertainment ever; and he could make it happen whenever he wanted.
And so, he stood over Spamton's sleeping form on the bottom bunk, and proceeded to pour a glass of water over his face.
Spamton sputtered for a moment, choking on the water and coughing and fighting for breath, eyes wide open, panicked and irritated, only to fall on Yellow, immediately dropping into perhaps the funniest, most deadpan, annoyed expression he had ever seen. And Yellow burst out laughing.
"Oh my lightners, Spam, you should see yourself right now."
The shorter ad frowned and furrowed his brows, face scrunching up as he whined. "Not funny, Yellow!"
Yellow only laughed louder, covering his mouth. "It so is, dude."
"Is not!"
"Is too."
"Is not!" He punctuated the last word with a pillow to Yellow's face, grumbling and rolling over in bed, facing the wall and using his own arm as a pillow, but not before taking a glance at his victim, who's nose made a noteable dent in the pillow as he struggled to pull it away. He swallowed his own laughter. Yellow had betrayed him, had forced him to awaken minutes before he was supposed to, he didn't deserve his attention.
“Spam you ass.” He tried to hide the amusement in his voice with annoyance, but he wasn’t sure if it was convincing or not, hands finding the hole his nose had poked in the pillowcase and shoving it off. “What was that for?”
Spamton gave an annoyed grumble and rolled onto his back, staring up at the bunk above his. “You woke me up.”
Yellow rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Two minutes before your alarm went off. You wouldn’t have gotten anymore sleep anyway.”
“Yes I would.”
“No you wouldn’t”
Spam’s mouth opened, and then closed, deciding that it wasn’t worth the argument, and closed his eyes again. As much as the image of Yellow with a pillow skewered on his nose was absolutely hilarious, he really was tired. Arguing had only made him moreso. “’M tired.”
“Well… yeah. You just woke up. Everyone’s tired just after they’ve woke up.”
He grunted. “’M sick, then.”
Yellow raised an eyebrow. “Sure you are. Nothing but pure sickness in the way you threw that pillow at my face.” Spamton pried one eye open, staring at him, unimpressed. He was ecstatic. “Oh, poor little Spammy… So, so sick and weak and widdle.”
“’M serious Yellow. I have a headache. ‘N a tummy ache. ‘N my throat hurts. ‘N-“
He sighed. “Alright Spam, how much of that is true?”
Spamton looked hurt for a moment, but then sighed himself, rolling back away from the golden Addison. “Headache ‘n tummy ache.” And then, in a smaller voice, “’N I really am tired.”
Yellow paused for a moment, twisting his lip and glancing over the smaller. He didn’t want to admit it, but he really did look tired. And he didn’t miss the glasses of battery acid that he’d been holding yesterday. He wasn’t entirely sure what a hangover was or looked like. He didn’t remember Pink’s very well. And he had always been extra careful with drinking. 3 glasses would get you hungover in the morning, even if it didn’t necessarily get you drunk. Had Spamton had 3?
“How much battery acid did you drink yesterday?”
Spamton stayed silent. A telltale sign that it was far, far more than he was supposed to have.
“Spam.”
More silence.
“I’m not mad, Spam, I won’t even tell Pink or Blue.”
“Will you tell Orange?”
He crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping that Spamton didn’t notice and call out his lie. “I won’t I promise.”
There was a final moment of hesitation, and then, “Four.”
Yellow’s eyes widened. “Dude you can’t have that many! I don’t even have that many!”
Spamton frowned from where he was laying. “You said you weren’t mad.”
“That was before I found out how many-“ He cut himself off. Now wasn’t the time to argue. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“’S okay.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, thick with tension. For a moment, Yellow thought that Spamton had drifted back off to sleep. He supposed he deserved it. Even if it had only been two minutes before he was supposed to be awake anyway, pouring water on his face really wasn’t the nicest thing he’d done. He placed his hand on the edge of the sheet, pulling it up over his brother’s shoulders, before hearing a tiny voice poke out between the bed frame. “Do I still have to go to work today…?”
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, burying it under concern. “Spam, it’s your second day. You can’t just not go whenever you feel like it anymore.”
“Please.”
“Spam-“
“Please.”
Secretly, he’d hoped Spamton would win their little scuffle this time. “Alright. I’ll tell Pink that… I don’t know. You have a virus or something. That’s believable, right?”
Spamton scoffed, although it seemed much more appreciative than normal. “No. That’s dumb.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“No…”
“Then, you have a virus.”
He stuffed his head under the blankets, looking ever-so-slightly less tired than before. “Th’nk you, Yellow.”
“No prob, Spam.”
If Yellow had picked up the Pillow that Spamton had thrown at him, and tossed it on his head as he left, as payback for earlier, then it was well deserved, and Spamton was still short.
Although… Maybe… If anyone asked… He could wave his hand a little bit higher when talking about how short the ad was.