Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spamton hadn’t been feeling very happy lately. Sure, he was successful even, past what he had always dreamed of, but his friends had stopped wanting to hang out with him. He doesn’t understand why either: he was really proud, even if a little jealous, to hang out with a  group of successful sales folks. And now that he had his own success, he was excited to be able to one to pay for everything, to give his friends rides in his expensive cars and to give them gift baskets of his products. He even offered them positions in his business as they did for him, and ones with high salaries at that since he could afford it! But every time, they almost seemed insulted at his offers. It puzzled him why they didn’t want of his kindness. Was he rude in his offers? He doesn’t think so… but the glint of bitterness he saw in their eyes from time to time told him he might have been doing something wrong. When he asked, however, they all pretended like their friendship was in perfect condition, so he couldn’t really help the rift that was happening between them.

He shakes his head: now’s not the time to think about this! Now is the time to take in the beautiful room he was gifted in the Mansion. It was HUGE, with ceilings so high it would take three swatchings on top of one another’s shoulders to reach it! Is that how they change the bulbs, he asks himself with a chuckle.

Despite how large the room is, everything is, for once in his life, to his size. And they aren’t toddler items either… or if they are, the swatching worked hard to make sure it didn’t look that way. He puts his suitcase on the ground and throws himself on the white queen-sized bed (king-sized beds, he was told, are strictly forbidden in the mansion), letting himself bounce on the soft mattress before looking around the luxurious suite, the room a pristine white with black highlights and some splashes of colours. It has a kitchenette, a modular couch with a  small black phone at one of its ends, all in front of an enormous TV. Even a door leading to his own private bathroom!

There is a knock at the door, polite and calculated.

“COME IN, COME IN!” Spamton cheerfully shouts, speaking loudly now that he feels his existence validated by success. It’s also almost necessary due to his size: he is already short compared to other city dwellers, but in the mansion, he comes to about waist-height of everyone else.

The door opens smoothly on a swatching, his stature comically towering over every piece of custom furniture in the room. “How is master Spamton enjoying his room?” The swatchling asks almost nervously.

“PAL, HOW CAN I SAY THIS… I LOVE IT!” Spamton cheers, laughing at the relieved expression on the other darkner’s face. He jumps off the bed, stepping towards the untouched kitchenette. “YOU’RE MY FIRST VISITOR! COME INSIDE [[NO.1 Costumer]]!” He startles himself at the glitch in his voice. It’s strange how his thoughts sometimes seem to come out. At least it seems to make him memorable, which is good for marketing.

The swatching turns a shade warmer, surprised by the invitation. He does step inside but does not move any further, holding his feathery hands together in front of him as he watches Spamton go to his fridge. When opened, it reveals a selection of fizzy drinks, snacks and pastries. When Spamton turns around to look at his guest, he is surprised to see him still standing by the door. “PLEASE! DON’T BE SHY! TAKE A SEAT! WHAT [[So Tasty You’ll Lose Your Mind]] MAY I SERVE YOU?”

“Oh my, are you certain this is appropriate master Spamton, for a servant to be served while on duty?” The swatching meekly chirps.

“NONSENSE! YOU ARE MY GUEST! MY [[Deal So Good You Cannot Refuse]] STILL STANDS!”

The swatching turns a shade warmer again, confusing Spamton. At least he looks happy as he sits down on the short but large modular couch, his knees almost to his chest. Spamton can’t help but be amused at seeing someone else having to use disproportionate furniture and he understands a little better why his friends teased him about it: it is funny.

“If you insist kind master! If you would not mind, I would like a byte-size cake. Swatch makes them himself and they are simply divine.” The swatchling chirps, sounding excited at the idea of having some. Considering they are almost never any extra at the end of the day, it’s quite rare for him to have some.

Spamton grabs a plate of the byte-sized cakes, putting them on the counter before putting the tea kettle on the stove to warm up, picking up the box of the most expensive-looking tea bags in his cupboard before bringing the plate of treats to his guest. He feels a little underdressed in his black v-neck and white pants and shoes next to the swatching in a suit and tie. “Have you tried the lights, master Spamton?” The swatchling meekly asks, though he does show a hint of excitement.

“PLEASE! CALL ME SPAMM...TON!” He offers, realizing last second his nickname might feel too familiar for how proper the swatchlings are. “I HAVEN’T, BUT I WILL!” He announces, approaching the switches, once again delighted he can reach them with ease. That’s when he notices they are different than what he expected: one is a dimmer, which isn’t too surprising, but the other is a dial with a colour wheel around it, currently at the OFF position. He turns it on slightly on red and immediately, the room changes colour thanks to the lighting, the swatching almost getting lost in the sea of red. Fascinated, Spamton starts slowly going through the rainbow, eyes sparkling with amazement. 

The swatching chuckles behind his feathers, turning bright yellow. “I see mas… you are enjoying this unique feature.”

Spamton sets the lights back to white, feeling almost dizzied by the colours. “YES! BRILLIANT IDEA! BEAUTIFUL! [[Award-Winning]]!” Spamton shouts with enthusiasm, feeling over the moon that not only is his room customized to his height but contains a special feature. He almost has a tear to his eye at the idea someone put this much care into doing something for him. Yes! Cared for! He feels… cared for.

“I’m glad to hear this! I am the one who… who suggested this idea. I thought, even if master Spamton’s colour scheme is white, he is still a colourful character.”

Spamton blushes, feeling complimented at the idea of being seen as colourful. Noticed, he is noticed! It promised him Heaven, yet he already feels there despite being told he isn’t even close to it yet. The kettle starts to sing its tune, snapping Spamton out of it.

“WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE WITH YOUR TEA?” Spamton asks as he tries to change the subject before he explodes with happiness. A new home, a new friend, all for him, all for Spamton. All for the little sponge. No, for the Big Shot! It’s almost too good to be true!

Spamton keeps the swatchling around for about an hour, excited someone seems happy to listen to him talk about his successes, about his ideas, about what gifts he should give Queen. He only lets him go out of guilt: he doesn’t want to keep him from his actual work or to make him feel forced to stay either. He knows the poor servant can’t exactly say no to him.

As he closes the door, he feels the ever-present doubt sink in his stomach. Now that he is rich and successful, people are so much nicer to him… and it’s hard to tell who is genuine and who is in hopes of gaining something. Of course, he prefers it that way: he prefers people being overly nice to him than them whispering when he walks by or not even noticing him and tripping on him. But still, he can’t help but wonder if even a single person cares about Spamton or if they care about Spamton’s success. At least he knows where the Addisons stand...

Before he has more time to put himself down, the phone rings. Oh right, it is time, isn’t it? He rushes to the receiver, reminding himself that it doesn’t matter if people only like him because of his success. He doesn’t need them, he doesn’t need anyone but the mysterious stranger, It , when freedom and Heaven are in his future.

Chapter Text

Spamton happily carries a gift that is twice his size to the throne room, insisting on carrying it himself despite the swatchlings’ offers to help. He wants to hand it off to the Queen himself, because he’s proud to have picked and bought something so expensive himself, with his own money! He is giddy as he stops in front of the throne room’s door, waiting for his turn to come in. That’s when he catches a blurb of conversation where his name is whispered. A shiver runs up his spine and he tenses. Worried, he does his best to listen without turning his head.

“...amton yesterday. You’ll never guess what he did.” One voice whispers, excited to share gossip.

“Oh my, please do share.” The other responds in anticipation.

“He invited him in… for tea and biscuits! They even chatted for a while. Can you believe it?”

“Really? I didn’t realize master Spamton was so...” Spamton braces himself for the next word. “Oh, what’s the word.” Spamton feels a bit annoyed, wanting it to be over with: improper? Weird? Annoying?

“So hum… generous, I think, would be proper.”

Spamton blushes at the compliment: he didn’t know people could gossip good things about each other. Or maybe that’s just how the swatchlings are like? Maybe they only hold kind feelings in their hearts?

“Such a busy man, taking the time to thank the servants. Generous does sound like the proper word. Queen sure knows how to pick them.”

“Me oh my, she certainly does.”

Spamton is so lightheaded from hearing kind words about him he almost forgets to walk inside the throne room when the door is opened and his name is called. He does his best to hurry his short legs so as to not make Queen wait.

“We called for Spamton, not for a walking gift box! Ohohohoh!” Queen teases as her guest comes in, making Spamton realize she can’t even see him behind the gift.

“I-I CAN GIVE [[100% Satisfaction Guarantee]] THAT I AM HERE MY QUEEN!” Spamton announces behind the gift, carefully putting it down in front of the queen before stepping away to be into view. He bows deeply and a little too quickly, his nose painfully hitting the ground, making Queen laugh. He sheepishly rubs the now throbbing tip of it.

“Ohohoh! Spamton, I knew it would be a good idea to add you to my court LMAO”

“I HUH, I’M GLAD, QUEEN. I’M VERY PLEASED AS WELL.” Spamton sheepishly replies, not quite sure if he is being mocked or not.

“So smol, so valiant!” Queen takes a sip of wine, tilting her head at Spamton. “Spammy, little Spammy-boy. What do you want from Queenie Weenie?” She asks, cooing at him like a small animal. Spamton blushes in embarrassment, starting to wonder if this was a good idea.

“I-I” He clears his throat, trying to feel big again, like the Big Shot he is, like the swatchlings just made him feel. “I AM BRINGING YOU A [[Free Gift]] TO THANK YOU FOR YOUR HOSPITALITY.”

“Ohohoh! How polite! Isn’t he polite?” Queen asks Swatch who is by her side, standing proud as always. Spamton likes his outfit… yes, it’s his outfit he likes so much that he can’t take his beady little eyes off of it. It looks a little bit like his room, monochromes with hints of colours, he wonders…

“Very polite ma’am.” Swatch affirms with a nod.

“Ahahah! Ohohoh! A good boy. Let me see what he got me!” Queen stands up carefully, which is when Spamton realizes the acid might have gotten to her head, which would explain her strange behaviour. She unwraps the gift with a great pull of its navy bow and a twirl, unveiling an industrial-sized battery juicer as the sides of the box fall open.

“Ohohoh! Ohohoh Spamton you little… puppet ! I love it! I will have it installed in my room! Ohohoh!” Immediately, swatchlings come to pick up the gift. She is about to follow them before stopping midway. “Oh hum, you are dismissed. Swatch, please give him a tour or something.” She orders, laughing on her way out.

Spamton is frozen, confused about if he did a good impression or not. He’s not even sure what just happened.

“Master Spamton,” Spamton feels a shiver, a good one this time, run up his spine straight to his heart as Swatch’s buttery voice calls his name. “Please pardon our Queen. She had… a bit too much to drink today, I’m afraid.” Spamton can’t manage to move or speak as Swatch approaches him, except to crane his neck as he’s taking in how tall the butler is. When he stops, he’s close enough for Spamton to notice how perfectly neat he is. Not a single loose threat or stranded speck of dust on his clothes. Even the messy way his feathers are combed on his head seems perfectly calculated. And his large nose, or rather beak, makes him look dignified instead of silly like Spamton’s nose does.

“[[Whoawza!]]” Spamton’s hanging mouth pretty much says on its own, making him blush when Swatch gives him a confused look.

“I beg you pardon master Spamton, I’m not sure what this means.”

“I MEAN !!! YOUR SUIT! IT [[Side Effects May Include Palpitations]]... NO! I MEAN IT’S [[RA-RA-RADICAL]]!” Spamton wants to hide under the blue carpet in shame for having bungled this bad. Why are his ticks so mean? Why do they block some of his feelings and loudly announce those he doesn’t want to share? It almost feels like someone else is controlling them just to mock him.

“I’m glad you appreciate the craftsmanship master Spamton. I do take great pride in my unique yet sophisticated style.” Swatch replies with a slight swell of pride in his demeanour.

Spamton wonders if steam is leaking out of his ear holes at this point and his voice comes out almost strangled when he replies. “P-please, just Spamton.” Or I might die . He mentally adds. Someone like Swatch calling him master feels both wrong and right in the worst possible ways.

“As you wish, Spamton.” Swatch bows before extending a wing in front of Spamton to invite him to turn around and head to the door. “Why don’t we start our visit of the mansion as Queen requested. If times allows you, of course.”

“YES!!!” Spamton shouts a little too enthusiastically, making Swatch chuckle before he starts guiding him outside the room.

When he gets back to his room, Spamton feels like he just got off a rollercoaster as he lets his little body fall and sprawl on the couch. Polite and kind friends, a weird but nice Queen, and a… stunning butler. It must be a dream, he must be dreaming. This place can only be the promised Heaven!

Heaven… OH CRAP! He forgot his daily call with It ! It’s well past the time It usually calls. As if on cue, the phone rings and Spamton’s excitement crumples into a heavy and cold stone in the pit of his stomach as he picks up the receiver.

“H-hi! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you! I was just distracted by the… by the mansion, I...” His voice is always like it used to be when he talks with It , which is relieving in a way. Despite his fear of It , he’s at least in control of his words.

“Good afternoon Spamton.” The voice says, cold and level as always. “I understand you are being distracted from your goal?”

“I… I guess so.”

“I forgive you… this time. A little sponge like you isn’t used to a lavish mansion like this. This is a lot for you, isn’t it?” Despite the insult, the voice isn’t bitter. It’s only using the words Spamton uses to think about himself, it always does. It was terrifying at first, but Spamton is used to it by now.

“Y-yeah. It just… it feels so nice, so perfect. I don’t… ahah, I don’t even feel like I deserve all of this. It feels like I’m already in Heaven.”

“Are you telling me you are becoming complacent, Spamton?” The voice asks, almost threatening.

“N-no! I, well… would it be so bad for things to stay like they are for a little while?” He meekly suggests.

“They will remain as they are as long as you stay on the path to freedom. When you will attain freedom and power, you will need none of the things you have here.”

Spamton hesitates for a moment before asking the question. “But will I… will I still be able to have them?”

“If you succeed, the world will be in your palm, Spamton. I told you that. You will become the free one. Someone needs to take on this role, Spamton. And I chose you.”

Spamton remains silent, not sure what to say. Lately, he’s become scared of It , of the voice. It says he’ll be free, but ever since he made a deal with It , he feels like he’s slowly losing control of his words and even of his mind sometimes.

“Little sponge, are you doubting me?”

“No! it’s just...”

“Are you scared of me?”

“Hum, well...”

“You know that you will have nothing to be afraid of once you attain freedom, right?”

“I… I know.” Samton sighs, realizing he has lost all motivation to do this now that he feels happy, now that the mansion and that Queen are offering him even more than he could have dreamed of.

“Do not lose focus Spamton. You remember the deal. Get the keygen. Find the basement.” The voice says before hanging up.

Spamton remains frozen.

The deal.

The deal of a little sponge, neck-deep into debt, with last notice letters telling him to pay his rent and power, who had to wear silly clothes as a mannequin to at least be able to eat every day. A stupid little puppet who made everyone around him feel tall and successful. The deal promising him limitless success as long as he followed Its instructions to freedom. And once he achieved freedom, the deal would be done and he would have all he could ever dream of and more. But if he didn’t hold up his end of the deal… he would lose it all. He would be back to square zero.

He can’t get back there. He can’t get back to living at the mercy of everyone. He HAS to find the keygen, he has to.

Chapter Text

There was a welcome party for Spamton, then Nubert’s birthday, then slowly, and more and more often, after work, Spamton would spend time with the swatchlings, in Swatch’s café or with Queen. He was feeling like a true Big Shot, like a real man of the world. A socialite, existing purely to make and maintain relationships after work. Every time It called, he would have an excuse to give. He felt like he had so much money that getting the keygen could wait indefinitely. Even living at the mansion, he’s certain he could never be able to spend his fortune!

Spamton is watching television, feeling pride swell in his chest every time his face appears on the enormous screen. He’s deep in thought about whether or not he should think about switching his trademark black v-neck for something else when the phone rings.

“Big shot Spamton G. Spamton’s suite, the big shot himself speaking!” Spamton chuckles slightly, enjoying calling himself that.

“I’m afraid I have to suspend our deal, little puppet.” The voice on the other end makes his blood freeze over. He quickly grabs his remote to turn off the background noise of the television.

“I… I’m sorry?!” He asks in disbelief.

“Spamton,” the way his name was said sounded like an insult. “I have warned you multiple times that if you do not uphold your end of the deal, I will have to stop helping you.”

“I… but… I’m sorry! I’m just so happy. I’ve never… I’ve never been happy like this before.” 

“This doesn’t concern me, little sponge. a contract is a contract. I hope you do realize that without my help, your stocks will crash to zero. Do you understand what that means?” The voice asks threateningly.

“Oh… that I… please, I don’t want to lose everything! I’ll do what you want! I’m sorry!” Spamton pulls his knees to his chest at the idea of becoming a loser again, which would mean losing his home and his friends. All he has is in the mansion and losing it all terrifies him.

“No, Spamton. No more excuses: I’ve been very patient and you know that.”

“I know,” Spamton replies quietly, almost an apology as he stares at his knees.

“Then you understand that you are on your own until you obtain the keygen.”

“But if I lose my suite, I won’t be able to finish my part of the deal! That’s why I need your help!”

“If you are fast enough about this, you won’t even have to worry about it. Your empire won’t crumble overnight, little sponge.”

“I… okay. I’ll get it.”

“Great.” It hangs up, leaving Spamton alone with the hang-up tone to contemplate the mess he is in. It leaves him three weeks until rent… at least if his stocks don’t plummet to zero before then. He decides he better hurry up and find out what a keygen even is.

“Spamton?” A warm and familiar voice asks, startling the small puppet out of his sockets. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear… is… is everything alright?”

Spamton’s eyes bulge in horror at the declaration, forcing a fat tear to roll down his cheek. He promptly wipes it away with a fist. “IT’S F1NE! EVERYTHING IS FINE! [[All Honkey Dorey!]]” He nervously laughs, not reassuring Swatch one bit. He gets off the sofa to try and push Swatch out of the room, which is completely ineffective considering he doesn’t have any strength and weighs less than a quarter of what the butler does. “COME ON NOW! DON’T LET YOUR OLD [[PAL]] [[PAL]] KEEP YOU FROM YOUR [[Work]].”

“Spamton, if I may be so bold: it sounded like you might be in financial trouble. There is no shame in admitting that and seeking help.”

“I’m fine! I’m FI[[IIIIINE]]! Aehaeheah! [[No]]THING BOTHERS SPAMTON G. SPAMTON! I’m A B-B-B-[[BIG SHOT]] I CAN HANDLE ANYTHING!” Swatch steps back as he watches Spamton’s head jerk in an unnatural way as he talks, feeling worried and disgusted. Yes, Spamton is loud and sometimes his voice glitches, but this twitchiness and increased amount of glitches are truly starting to worry him.

“Spamton, please let me direct you to the nearest doctor. I am truly concerned about your health.” Swatch insists. He watches as it looks like Spamton is trying to hold himself back from… something.

“[[Thank You For Your Concern]] BUT [[The Number You Are Trying To Reach Is No Longer In Service.]]”

Swatch watches silently as Spamton runs into the corridor and away from him, almost looking like he was being forcefully dragged away.

They’re watching him, Spamton is sure of it! Now that he knows what a keygen is, he feels stupid for trying to look for it in the mansion. A Queen has no use for keygens! that’s the tool of a crook! A crook like him, who fakes his way to success and makes friends using money. Who only achieves success because he’s a dirty cheater.

But with the swatchlings on his heels, he can hardly buy one from the hacker! What would it look like for him to do this? A big shot doesn’t need keygens!

He’s hanging out at the Cyber Grill, sipping on his soda as he watches a swatching that is hanging out near the exit, hoping for him to leave. He feels a bit bad, having to deceive a friend, but if he doesn’t deceive him, he won’t be his friend anymore anyway. He learned that if you are a big shot, the average person doesn’t want to be your friend anymore. So he’s certain this also applies to big shots not wanting to be around a loser either. 

Right now, he has to overcome the problem that his face is plastered all over the city, which means running an incognito mission is almost impossible. He takes a bathroom break and is washing his hands, standing on a stool, when a plugboy approaches him, pulling a stool to wash his hands as well.

“It’s Mr. Spamton! It’s so exciting to meet a celebrity! I see your advertisements everywhere! Oh… hum, hi, by the way. It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

Spamton’s eyes light up as he wipes his hands dry. The young plugboy just gave him a brilliant idea.

“HEY HEY HEY THERE BUDDY! [[The Pleasure Is All Mine]], ALWAYS A PLEASURE TO MEET A FAN! EVEN WHEN I AM IN A PICKLE...”

The plugboy’s eyes fill with worry, making Spamton feel guilty, but only a little. “Oh no! I’m sorry to hear that Mr. Spamton! Is there a way I could help?”

“WHY YES! WITH A SIMPLE [[Fetch Quest]] YOU COULD HELP ME L-L-LOTS! YOU SEE I KEEP LOSING MY [[Keys]]. WHY DON’T YOU [[Be A Good Boy]] AND HELP OLD PAL SPAMTON GET A [[keygen]]? [[Dispensing Kromer]].” 

Spamton barely has the time to register what he even said and what he is doing that he is handing a wacky stack to the young plugboy. Not that he minds parting with kromer, but he is feeling like he’s starting to lose control of his body and speech ever since his last phone call.

The plugboy candidly accepts and Spamton returns to his seat with a sigh, feeling frazzled. What is happening to him? It feels like the more he needs to do what It tells him, the more he loses control. Didn’t It promise him freedom? Because what is happening to him doesn’t feel like freedom at all. He feels like he is slowly losing himself to something else. Something he doesn’t like. 

Sure, he’s a salesman, which aren’t the most pure and innocent of citizens, but now he’s turning to crime, to bribes and to betrayal to get his way. He’s not above a little white lie or omissions, but is beyond that. Yet, it’s not like he has a choice: at the moment, everything he holds dear is at stake.

“H-Here you are Sir!” Spamton nearly falls off his seat when the small voice interrupts his thought. It’s the plugboy from a few minutes ago, looking sweaty and red in the face but holding up the keygen and leftover change. He clearly ran both ways.

“AH… THANK YOU [[Loyal Customer]]! BUT PLEASE, [[Keep The change]] AND HERE, FOR POSTER10RITY!” Spamton tries to ignore that he just said “posteriority” and signs a random bill before handing it over to his fan.

“WOW! That’s so cool! Thank you Mr. Spamton!” Spamton chuckles, genuinely this time, as the kid runs away with his money, truly looking over the moon. His smile drops however when he meets eyes with the swatching who is now on the phone with someone.

He decides now is as good a time as any to leave and he hurries outside by sneaking through the back door, walking with his head down in hopes he won’t be identified. Then, a payphone on his path rings. Something tells him it’s for him and he picks up without a word.

“Open the way to the basement from the statue room, slime. Get to the machine and transfer your data on it. Then, our deal will be complete.” It hangs up and Spamton automatically does the same. He feels hollow for an instant before coming to the realization of what this means.

He’ll have a body, a real one. One that isn’t small and useless. One that will make people respect and love him on sight. He holds the keygen to his chest as he tries to tell himself not to be scared. He’s sure the body It has for him is something he’ll be happy with. Or at least something that will grant him freedom and power.

He doesn’t need any more convincing to start running back towards the mansion. He has no clue where the basement is, but he’ll find it… he will!

“Spamton?”

That buttery voice! Spamton falls on his back in surprise, his heart beating a mile a minute, but this time it’s not because of Swatch. Or rather, it’s because Swatch caught him rather than from the mere fact he exists within his vicinity.

“[[Yes?]]” Spamton asks, quickly getting back on his feet and dusting his behind with one hand. He forces a smile that tries to falter when he notices the sombre look on Swatch’s face.

“May I help you?” Swatch asks.

Spamton turns bright red considering he was just caught trying to twist the head of one of Queen’s statues like a weirdo. There was no way Swatch didn’t know he is up to something.

“Aehaehaehaehaeh…. TIME FOR SPAMTON TO LEA-oof!”

Despite his attempt to flee, Spamton ran into a large feathery hand rather than through the doorway. Swatch lifts him by the shirt, but Spamton manages to slip out of it, falling shirtless on the floor.

His heart aches at the inevitability.

*Swatch blocks the way.*

Chapter Text

*Swatch blocks the way*

Spamton doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to… but… he laughs involuntarily. He does his best to think about what to do.

“COME ON, DON’T YOU RECOGNIZE YOUR OLD PAL SPAMTON? [[Pleas Help]]” Only having his words to attack, Spamton sends a fleet of pleas Swatch’s way.

“PLEASE”

“I BEG OF YOU!”

“[[Pleas Help]]”

“i’m sorry...”

To Spamton’s dismay, Swatch only has to lift a wing in front of his chest to protect himself, the attacks sliding off his feathers like water off a duck’s back. He seems to absorb some damage, but not a whole lot.

“Please Spamton, simply give me the keygen and we’ll forget about this.” Swatch offers, not attacking but instead offering Spamton mercy. Spamton’s face becomes beet red, offended Swatch seems completely unbothered by their fight while being impressed with him as well. In fact, how come he gets two actions in a single turn? How strong is he? But Spamton can’t give in. Not when freedom is just here… sleeping in the basement somewhere.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I NEE-E-E-E-E-EED [[THIS ONE IN A LIFETIME CHANCE TO WIN]]!” Spamton stutters, glitching worse by the minute.

Swatch sighs, shaking his head. “Spamton, what in the world could you possibly want that you don’t already have?”

Spamton thinks about what else he could do: trying to take Swatch’s Kromer would be useless and his defence is clearly leagues above his attacks. Maybe he should just flee: he could try sliding between his legs. But he needs a distraction first…

Mouth wide open, Spamton sends a small army replicas onto Swatch to climb his body and be general nuisances. Looking confused and trying to flick the little creatures off, Swatch still manages to block Spamton with his leg when he runs for the door. However, the diversion makes him miscalculate and he kicks Spamton harder than he meant to, taking away some of his health.

The small puppet falls on his behind but quickly gets up. Swatch lets out a sigh of reliefr when he sees he isn’t too badly injured. Still, that took a chunk off Spamton’s health.

“LET ME THROUGH, YOU ARE [[Killed Me]]! IF I CAN’T GO, I AM [[DEAD]].”

Spamton tries to pass through again but Swatch easily catches him, lifting him with both hands to hold him at eye level this time.

“Spamton, is this what this is about? It’s about the person threatening you this morning, isn’t it?”

Spamton’s eyes go wide: It told him in very clear terms that if Spamton told anyone about It , he wouldn’t only lose everything, but he would end up in danger. Panicked, Spamton starts to flail in Swatch’s hold, biting the butler’s fingers in desperation, which only results in him being flung by reflex. And if Spamton did maybe ten points of damage with his attacks, the damage he takes when hitting the floor is enough to make him accept Swatch’s mercy.

Swatch approaches the motionless puppet, carefully sitting him up and giving him his shirt back. “Spamton, you know you can talk to me, right? Or to any of the swatchlings. You have many friends who will help you here.”

Spamton puts on his shirt, keeping his eyes to the ground. He feels pathetic. He just fought a friend and just betrayed every single of his friends by trying to break into a secret place in the mansion. Yet Swatch still talks to him gently and still picks him up, making sure he is safely tucked under his wing before making his way to what seems to be his quarters.

“Swatch, sir! Queen wants to see you and… Spamton.” A swatchling chirps as they run up to the pair, turning slightly red at the sight of Spamton and looking away in shame.

Swatch sighs, as if he had hoped for things not to come to this. “Thank you, I’m on my way.” Swatch announces, making his way to the throne room. He steps into the elevator, giving Spamton a look full of pity before looking straight ahead again. “I’m sorry, Spamton.” He announces before the elevator stops on the throne room’s floor. The door is already open, Queen pacing in the room and shouting in relief as she catches sight of her servant.

“Swatch! You amazing technicolour butler, you’re here! And with the little rat too!” Queen exclaims, her face lighting up at the sight of them both. “Did you capture him before he...” She trails off, hoping she won’t have to say the words.

“Yes, Queen. The crisis has been averted. I was about to have an intervention with Mr. Spamton about it.” He explains with a deep bow.

“I’M SORRY [[Your Majesty]] I… I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!” Spamton aimlessly begged, not even sure if Queen knows what he was about to do.

The Queen laughs at his words before giving a tooth and terrifying smile. “Of course you won’t. I’ll personally make certain of that.”

Spamton gulps, his whole body now shaking as he assumes Queen is implying she is about to kill him. Swatch seems to be thinking the same as well.

“Now, my Queen, I know this… section is forbidden, but death sounds a bit harsh a punishment.” Swatch pleads.

“Humph, why must you ruin my fun with your logic and by being reasonable, Swatch?” Queen pouts. “The moment has passed anyway. Just permaban him or something.” She says dismissively, shooing her servant away with a dismissive wave.

“NO! NO PLEASE! [[Please]] [[Please]] [[Please]] [[Please]] [[Please]]!” Of course, Spamton’s plight is ignored despite how hard he kicks the air and how much he hits Swatch with his little fists. 

Swatch silently carries the little puppet to his room, ignoring his pleas that are degenerating into screams and into dial-up screeches. He stops inside the already mostly empty room, looking around to see there is nothing left for the little puppet to bring with him. As he walks around, the phone starts ringing and he carries Spamton to it, letting him unhook the receiver to take the call.

Swatch jump at how loud the garbage noise at the other end of the line is. Yet, Spamton still has the receiver glued to his ear and when the butler dares to look down, he notices his friend had been crying profusely as tears are streaming down his face, And now, his eyes have changed to only display static. 

“Spamton?” The butler asks with worry. The bird fluffs up in horror as an inhuman noise comes out of the puppet, a mix between a whimper and an electronic screech. Swatch jumps back, tearing the receiver from the puppet’s hand. “Spamton?” The butler asks again. Instead of answering, Spamton starts vibrating before erupting in hollow laughter. All he does when he stops is ball his fists tight, not resisting Swatch anymore.

“I’m sorry, Spamton.” The butler apologizes, making his way outside of the puppet’s room and bringing it outside, placing him on the ground outside the backdoor. After all, Spamton doesn’t need to be publicly humiliated by being kicked out through the front door. The puppet stands on his feet but doesn’t move, looking like a deactivated robot with his stiff pose and downcast face.

“Would you like me to call a friend to pick you up?” Swatch asks, only to be met with a hollow laugh again.

“FRIEND? A FRIEND? A [[Big Shot!]] A    [[Big Shot!]] LIEK ME?” Spamton laughs his hollow laugh again, stiffly walking away. Swatch observes him for a moment until he is called into the Mansion.

Spamton stops by the garbage bin where he notices all his belongings have been thrown into. Without thinking, he climbs inside to curl into his bed, tightly wrapping his blanket around himself.

What did he expect? That’s all he ever did in life if his hand wasn’t held in everything he did. Fail.

He would fail.

Why didn’t he accept it sooner? Why did a loser like him have to pretend he could be successful, make his only friends jealous just to ensure he is left with nothing once he eventually falls?

Yet his desire for freedom is still alive in his chest. After all, he has nothing to lose anymore and only something to gain. Something beautiful, something that promises he will be able to be his true self, to make his own choices and to truly be his own person. To reach the skies, to pierce Heaven. He smiles at himself at those comforting thoughts.

Chapter Text

“Spamton, could you please tell me why you are sleeping in the garbage?” Swatch’s smooth voice wakes the little puppet who startles awake, backing away from the butler as much as he can, covering himself with his blankets like a shield.

The butler sighs at the lack of response, slowly extending a large wing to the small puppet. “I’m not here to hurt you, Spamton. I never was.”

Spamton watches the wing hesitantly, his head jittering as he seems to think. “I AM [[Unbernable Trash]].” Spamton finally replies with a laugh. “[[Message Received Loud And Clear]], I AM DISPOSED OF.”

“Spamton… I only kicked you out because it’s my job.” Swatch explains, finally letting his wing down in disappointment. “Who do you think I or the swatchlings are to dispose of a friend, as you put it?” Swatch asks, folding his wings over his chest.

“BUT I AM [[Obsolete]], NO LONGER OF USE. THROW OUT THE [[Useless Little Sponge]].” Spamton explains, and while his head isn’t jittering anymore, his whole body is shaking. Swatch can’t tell if it’s fear, anger or just an uncontrollable tic.

“Do you really think of friends this way?” Swatch asks, his cheeks flaring slightly pink despite his level tone.

“FRIENDS? FR%ENS!” Spamton exclaims before having another fit of hollow laughter. “THEY [[$#!%]] YOU OUT LIKE YESTERDAY’S [[Lunch]]. SWATCH. SWATCH. SWATCH. WHEN YOU BECOME A [[Big Shot]] AND AREN’T THE [[Little Sponge]] TO [[Squeeze]] [[Squeeze]]. THEY [[Quit]], THEY ALL [[Quit]].” Spamton laughs again, only stopping to grab his own hair and pull on them so hard his white knuckles are turning pink. His body is only vibrating harder and he looks about to explode.

“Is that what happened, Spamton? Is that why you never had friends over? They abandoned you when you became bigger than them.” Swatch asks, thankful for his perceptive mind. Spamton only laughs in response, so he continues. “Even if that’s what you knew Spamton, it doesn’t mean everyone is like them. The swatchlings and I… we consider you a valued customer but also a friend. The Queen, as much as we love her, she tends to order us around recklessly. So when you came in and my sweet swatchlings told me how you would invite them to keep you company, I was overjoyed. You made them feel like more than servants, Spamton. You made them feel like you cared about them. Am I to think you did not?” Swatch asks.

Spamton lets out a small hiccup and lowers his head to hide his expression in the shadows. His small body is shaking less outside of some irregular jumps Swatch assumes to be sobs.

“DON’T TREAT ME LIKE A [[Clown]]. THE [[Birbs]], THEY WERE MY FRIENDS BECAUSE I PAID THEM. DON’T [[Lie]] I’M NO [[Stupid]]. [[Liar]] [[Liar]]” Spamton can’t hide the loud, disgusting sniffle he takes, his whole body shaking violently from it.

Swatch needs to take a breath to remain composed and not feel nauseous. “Spamton, please compose yourself. Think about it this way: why would I come to you now if I only cared about your social status?”

“TO LAUGH AT THE [[WORTHLESS]] [[Slime]]?” Spamton answers too easily.

“Look me in the eye and tell me if it looks like I’m laughing at your fate, Spamton?” Swatch orders, his voice assured enough to force Spamton to finally look up.

After wiping away the tears that were blurring his vision, Spamton finally notices that Swatch only looks serious, if not also a bit sad and worried as well. “Do you trust me now?”

Spamton looks down at his blanket as he considers, using it to wipe his huge nose and wet eyes before carefully getting up and approaching Swatch. He’s still hunched over and looking ready to flee, but it’s still progress. “See? It’s alright.” Swatch says, a caring smile appearing on his face as he extends Spamton a wing to help him out of the trash. The little puppet takes it, both hands fitting in the bird’s palm and putting most of his weight on it as he approaches and sits on the dumpster’s rim.

“Are you in the garbage because you have nowhere else to go?” Swatch asks carefully, making sure to keep eye contact with his friend. Spamton only nods at the question, nervously rubbing his thigh. “Then I’ll give you a place to stay if you want.” Swatch offers.

“A PLACE TO STAY?” Spamton repeats, appearing surprised. He had already resolved himself to being homeless because all his hopes had been thorn away from him. The voice had said It would take everything away, didn’t It ? When Spamton finally digs his brain to remember what the voice said, he feels like he has finally woken up from a nightmare.

It only said It would stop helping him. Of course, that meant his financial ruin but, if It never ensured he had friends and if money wasn’t the reason why he had friends either. “YOU… CARE ABOUT ME?” Spamton finally asks, the surprise and confusion on the little puppet’s face making Swatch’s heart feel like it’s about to split in two.

“Of course, Spamton. I care about you. The swatchlings care about you too. So there’s no need to hide from us.” Swatch explains, smiling softly. He lets out a surprised gasp when the little puppet jumps to his neck, squeezing it tightly. Swatch quickly puts his wings around the little body, carefully squeezing him back.

Swatch lets the both of them enjoy the hug for a while before gently prying Spamton away. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to take offense to this, instead he curls up in Swatch’s hold, smiling wide and vibrating from excitement. “Would you like it if I let you stay in my quarters? No wandering around of course. And you have to stay until you feel better.”

Spamton quickly nods and a tiny part of himself hates that the first thoughts that come to him is that Swatch probably has a phone in his room, and that said room is inside the mansion, meaning this brings him closer to the basement. He lets out a nervous and excited laugh. “YES! YES DEAL! [[Offer Accepted]]!”

Swatch smiles, though this time the smiles make Spamton shiver. “Good. I’ll hold you to your word.” Spamton swallows, feeling nervous at the idea he just entered another verbal contract after spectacularly failing another one.

Swatch holds him close to his chest before entering the mansion again, making sure no one sees him with Spamton in his arms as he makes his way. Footsteps come in their direction and Spamton freezes in fear. Taking the initiative, Swatch quickly grabs Spamton and shoves him in his blazer, puffing his feathers around him to dissimulate him better.

Spamton remains frozen in his position out of fear of being found out, but he wants to scream at how much physical contact he is getting right now, directly in contact with Swatch’s chest too! He feels his face and whole body heat up on top of all the heat already trapped in the bird’s jacket.

When Swatch shakes him out and lets him fall on his bed, Spamton is more like a statue rather than simply immobile.

“Uh… Spamton.”

“[[Hot Sauce Special]]!!! [[System Overheating]]!” Is all the puppet manages, making the butler chuckle.

“Come on now, let’s calm down.” Swatch instructs as he walks around Spamton only to throw something cold at him moments later. Spamton briefly looks at the bag of frozen peas before putting it on his head, letting out a sigh as the brain freeze is helping him calm down.

“These are my quarters. You are lucky, I get a bachelor all to yourself since I am the head butler.” Swatch winks. Spamton makes a small, nervous laugh before looking around.

The room is much smaller than the suite he had, but he is so small that it doesn’t feel cramped to him anyways. He is sitting on a double bed covered with a quilt in a black and white diamond pattern. The walls are white with black trims and the lighting and furniture lining the walls follow a similar patterns, the only ones being more even black and white being the armchair and the small dining table. Swatch navigates to the bathroom, barely fitting between the furniture. He opens the door to show Spamton the toilet and shower bath.

“It is rather humble, but I think you will find all your necessities accommodated.”

Spamton lets the pea bag fall from his head and jumps off the bed, exploring the small space for him. He looks around for a phone but doesn’t immediately find one. He tells himself Swatch probably has it put away somewhere to reduce clutter.

“YOU’RE THE [[Interior Designer Genius]] THAT DECORATED MY SUITE, RIGHT?”

Swatch blushes slightly at the compliment. “Why yes, good eye my friend. You see...” There is a knock on the door and a chirp, interrupting Swatch. “Duty calls me. Make yourself at home.” Swatch whispers before hurrying out.

Spamton thinks about this being the perfect moment for him to escape to the basement when he hears the door being locked.

Grabbing a dining chair, he immediately drags it to the door so he can try the handle… locked. How come the butler has a door that locks from the outside. He tries the lock on his side… to no avail.

“[[Son of a &!%(#]]!!!” He growls under his breath, jumping off the chair and pulling it back to where it is. He starts to feel dizzy and like he can barely breathe. leaning against the wall, he closes his eyes, trying to focus on breathing again. “IT’S OKAY, IT’S OKAY [[Little Slime]], JUST FINE THE PHONE.” He reassures himself, taking a deep breath before searching the bachelor.

Not in the night stand, not in the dresser, not in the bookshelves or even the panty… notunderhtebed notunderthesink NOTINTHEFRIDGE.

Spamton finds himself need to run to the bathroom, holding onto the spotless toilet bowl to dry heave over it. When his nausea passes, he lets himself fall onto the cool tiles, the cold feeling good at first until it forces him to curl up to keep some body heat.

How is he going to hold his end of the deal? HE can’t stay a little worm like this! He’ll be used again! Or worse, Swatch will get tired of him. Tired of him being a loser, of failing at everything he does, at crying, at being loud, at glitching at being a mess.

Why would anyone want him around? Spamton grabs his hair in balled fists, letting out a long electronic screech. He starts pounding at the ground with his feet and his fists just hard enough to hurt a little. He’s not thinking about what he’s doing, just feeling. He feels like he’s letting out a demon that’s been growing inside of him.

He’s so ANGRY. Angry he was abandoned, angry he was stupid enough to think the Addisons were his friends, angry he failed at hold his end of the contract, angry Swatch is giving him a chance because he knows he’ll disappoint him.

He keeps throwing his tantrum until he loses steam, glad no one was there to see. He pants, slowly uncurling his small fists, wincing because he was holding them so tight it now hurts to relax. He opens his mouth to breath, forcing his jaw to relax. He holds his hands to his stomach, cramped out of anger.

He turns on his back, staring at the white ceiling, noting that it’s spotless too. What’s wrong with him. Why can’t he just be happy a friend is lending him a hand? He went from scared, distrustful and manic to angry. But he notices now he didn’t feel… happy.

Even now that he let out his emotions, he only feels a heavy ball in his stomach. A ball of anticipation because when did something good happen to Spamton without strings attached? When will he had to pay back his debt? If not to Swatch, then to fate?

Happiness comes at a cost. He lets a hand rest on his stomach. So if he’s not happy, he should be okay.

“Spamton?” Swatch asks as he comes back inside the bachelor, locking the door behind him.

“PRESENT.” The puppet replies from the bathroom, still lying on the cold tiles. He’s not sure how long he’s been lying there.

“Did you eat? You must be hungry, it’s well past dinner time.” Spamton remarks. The butler walks to the bathroom as he undoes his tie, stopping in his tack to blink at the puppet lying on the floor. “Hum… Spamton, what are you doing there?”

“HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS.”

“I’d prefer if you have those on the bed. Bathroom floors aren’t exactly sanitary.” Swatch indicates, tilting his head slightly. The puppet has not moved a muscle, but at least he looks at him when he talks.

“HM.” Is all Spamton answers.

“Does that mean I have to pick you up so I can use my own bathroom?”

Spamton lets out a heavy sigh as he peels himself off of the floor, dragging his feet out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He tries to find a spot under the bed, but to no avail. Is there no place where a puppet can lay on the ground and feel like garbage in this apartment?

He resigns himself to head to the fridge, opening it and looking at its content without a passing thought for a while before noticing an empty spot conveniently large enough for curled up puppet.

“Don’t think about it!” Swatch scolds, raising his voice only so Spamton hears him loud and clear. The puppet yelps, immediately closing the door and trying to squeeze under the bed again. “What is with you today? You have been acting like a scared Tasq.” Swatch remarks, coming back into Spamton’s field of vision wearing a night cap, white pyjamas with black buttons and fuzzy white slippers with cat faces on them. “Those were a gift.” He says before Spamton can comment on them. “Come now.” Swatch says as he picks up Spamton with a yawn, carrying him back to the bathroom.

“I salvaged your clothes. Take a good bath and put on your pyjamas so we can go to bed.” Swatch instructs. Spamton obeys despite his crankiness, coming out of the bathroom wearing a set of pajamas with little sports cars on them. Swatch looks ready to comment that those are toddler pyjamas, but tells himself Spamton is probably aware of this. Instead, he turns his armchair and brings it close to his bed, a pillow and blanket already on it.

“This is our sleeping arrangement for now. Now go to bed, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” Swatch orders, Spamton climbing on the makeshift bed and feeling surprisingly tired when he slides under the covers. Swatch turns off the lights and climbs into bed as well, letting out a happy sigh when he finds a comfortable position. “Good night Spamton. Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

Chapter Text

Spamton is woken up by Swatch’s alarm, only opening his eyes slightly to watch as the big gentleman presses the off button after sitting up. Sleepy, Spamton can’t help but to snicker at Swatch’s appearance: his night cap fell off during the night and his head feathers are sticking every which way while his usually sharp eyes are small and unfocused.

“[[Good Morning Cyber City]]!” Spamton almost shouts, still curled up on the armchair like a cat.

“You’re so loud.” Swatch says barely over his breath, his voice hoarse from sleep. Spamton snickers again, thoroughly amused to see a usually perfectly well put together character looking so bedraggled. Swatch observes him for a moment, his eyes showing he is slowly waking up. “It’s lovely to see you in such good spirits this morning, Spamton. Even if it’s at the expense of my appearance.” Swatch tries to pretend to be offended, but he can’t help but smile at the little puppet’s mischievous expression. “Would you mind making us breakfast while I shower? Some bagels and coffee if you please, Spamton.”

Once Swatch has disappeared into the bathroom, Spamton sits up, rubbing at his tired eyes as he makes his way to the kitchenette. He drags a chair to the counter and feels himself shaking slightly. “DON’T MESS THIS UP, IT’S SO EASY, ONLY AN IDIOT WOULD MESS THAT UP.” He mumbles to himself, stepping on the chair and reaching for the breadbox, pulling out two bagels out of them. He carefully slices both in half, smiling in satisfaction at the fact that he didn’t break the second one. 

He starts by putting the broken one in the toaster. He goes to the fridge, grabbing butter, jam, jelly and buttercream, bringing them all to the table. He then grabs the coffee, his smile growing wider and wider as he fills the tank and pour in the grounds, even if he spilled a few grains. He starts the coffee maker and quickly wipes the counter. The toaster sets off beside him and he leans over to pull his pieces out. Sadly, the broken piece of his bagel is still in there. 

He pulls the toaster closer towards him and looks inside. The cracks are big enough for his fingers, he can tell. Carefully, he slides his small hand inside, carefully gripping the hot piece of toast. The elements are still hot and he feels his hand is starting to cook. He tries to pull it out quickly, but his sleeve catches onto the grills. Spamton lets out a scream, pulling hard as his hand is starting to hurt now. He pulls harder a third time, which sends him and the toaster thumbling on the ground.

“SPAMTON!” Swatch shouts after peeking outside the bathroom from hearing the little puppet’s scream. He rushes to his guest, taking the toaster in one wing using a towel and Spamton in the other to pull them apart. He lets out a small yelp when he sees Spamton’s sleeve is on fire and immediately turns on the cold water and puts the small hand under the running water, holding it firmly in place. Spamton is trembling from head to toe despite Swatch being pressed against him as he holds him in place for a couple of minutes during which both are silent. 

Spamton feels dizzy, he wants to throw up… why does he have to mess up everything? He can only imagine how mad Swatch is for interrupting his shower and probably ruining his toaster. The butler takes Spamton’s hand out of the running water, approaching his face to it, looking serious and stern as he looks it over before sighing.

“Spamton,” the butler starts, making the puppet stiffen in his hold. “why did you put your hand in there? You could have hurt yourself badly.” Swatch scolds. Spamton feels his body relax slightly, finally daring to look up at Swatch who delicately puts his hand back under the cold water.

“SORRY ABOUT [[Toaster Extravaganza]]! I’LL G-GET YOU A NEW O-O-ONE!” Sampton promises, hoping this will ensure Swatch isn’t too angry with him. At least not angry enough to throw him out. Swatch doesn’t respond immediately, poking the toaster to make sure it cooled down before picking it up, ensuring it is unplugged as well before using a butter knife to pull out the stuck piece of bagel.

“Don’t worry about the toaster, look at your hand! Do you have any sense of self preservation left?” Swatch scolds with his wings on his hips. The fact he is wearing a towel on his head and around his body makes Spamton think he looks like the nagging moms he sees on TV.

“I DON’T THINK I EVER HAD ONE.” Spamton replies without thinking, smiling way too wide. Swatch opens his beak then closes it again, silently admitting he doesn’t remember Spamton having one either.

“Let’s not linger on the subject. Keep your fingers under the running water and I will come back to put a bandage on them.” Spamton watches Swatch return to the bathroom, noticing even his talons are perfectly clipped. With a scowl, Spamton grabs the untoasted bagel and loads it into the toaster before deciding to disobey and grab a small broom he found the previous day while searching for the phone so he can clean the mess of crumbs on the ground. Then he puts some cups on the table and sets the bagels in two plates, which is when Swatch returns.

“Spamton, your fingers!” He exclaims as he rushes to the puppet with a first aid kit, lifting him to get him away from the table and his fingers under the cold water again. Swatch is now fully dressed and looking proper as Spamton is used to seeing him.

“SEE!? I C-CAN [[Challenge Complete]]!” Spamton scowls, pointing towards the table.

“Of course you can make breakfast! That’s not what this is about.” Swatch sighs, shaking his head.

“YOU DIDN’T… TELL ME TO STAY AT THE [[Freshwater Stream]] TO KEEP ME FROM MESSING UP?” Spamton asks, the genuine surprise in his eyes taking Swatch aback.

“No, I asked you to keep your fingers under the water so they cool down completely because they will keep cooking otherwise.” Swatch explains, before tilting his head in concern. “Am I giving you the impression I think you are incompetent?”

“N-no… I just… I JUST AM USED TO IT.” Spamton admits sheepishly.

“People assuming you are incompetent, you mean?” Swatch asks, receiving a nod.

“I see.” Swatch says, giving his small friend a pensive look. “I’m sorry to hear that’s the case Spamton. However, I can confidently say I do not think you are incompetent.”

“HOW COME?! I CAN’T EVEN PREPARE [[The Most Important Meal Of The Day]] CORRECTLY! [[Fifty Percent Off]] I CAN’T EVEN TA-TA-TALK NORMALLY!” Spamton grits between his teeth, stomping his foot on the chair in frustration.

Swatch turns off the tap and gently dries off Spamton’s hand. He puts a gentle hydrating cream on the puppet’s fingers before bandaging them up.

“Spamton, do you perhaps know about projection?”

“[[At A Cinema Near You]]?”

“Not really. You see, some people have a hard time accepting things about themselves, so they put those things upon others.” Swatch explains as he finishes up the bandage.

“WHAT ABOUT IT?” Spamton genuinely asks, though he feels nervous, worried about what Swatch is about to say next.

“I think you are projecting your feelings towards yourself on others, Spamton. You said you thought I saw you as incompetent, while that’s something you clearly think about yourself.”

Spamton lowers his head as he thinks about it. “I CAN SEE HOW I AM DOING THAT.” He admits as he looks at the bandage. “WHY ARE [[Offering You Assistance]] THEN?”

Spamton asks.

“Because I like to help. For example, I have no doubt you can bandage your own wounds, but it’s hard to do with one hand. So it makes me happy to know it’s easier for you if I do it.”

Spamton nods slowly, not certain that he understands.

“WHY DO YOU LIKE TO HELP? WHAT IS [[Your Profit Margin]]?”

“I gain many things from it! Friendship, feeling satisfied I accomplished something, feeling useful, happy that I helped someone. Those are the reasons I am doing things for you, or for anyone.” Swatch explains, brushing Spamton’s messy hair with his feathers, unable to resist the desire to preen. “Just as you insisted on making breakfast because it gave you purpose.”

Spamton lowers his head, nodding.

“But if you'd like, I’ll start asking you if you need help instead of just giving it to you. I can see how it is uncouth to me not to consider your feelings.”

“THANK YOU.” Spamton simply says, looking surprised as his heart hammers in his chest. He feels heard for the first time in a while and grateful Swatch is smart enough to understand him. Despite being loud and having a big mouth, he doesn’t actually express himself properly at all.

“Oh my! Look at the time! Forgive me for cutting our heart to heart short, Spamton, but I must hurry!” Swatch announces, getting up quickly and setting Spamton down on the floor before eating his bagel in a single bite and chugging his coffee in one trait. He takes a deep breath to compose himself before unlocking the door with his key.

“Oh, and Spamton.” He calls, waiting for the little puppet to look at him before continuing, giving him a mischievous smile. “Have a good day, but please try not to hurt yourself in my absence.” Spamton is too surprised by the butler’s teasing side to have the time to reply.

He gets to eat his breakfast and then does the dishes, which is complicated with a single hand.

The puppet’s day is uneventful as, despite his best attempts, he was unable to escape Swatch’s quarters. So was he unable to find a phone yet again. He tried to distract himself by reading a book, even telling himself he should read a recipe so he could prepare something for Swatch once he comes off his shift, but he found himself unable to focus on a single task he tried to do. Ever since Swatch left him alone, all he can seem to think about is escaping, escaping and the basement. The basement, he needs it, he needs to go there so badly, he needs to transfer himself on the disk. Then he’ll be free, then he’ll be a real boy, then he won’t be a useless, powerless little puppet no one wants or like, then maybe his thoughts will shut up and stop telling him to go get the disk!

When Swatch comes back, Spamton is on the bed,curled up under the blanket Swatch lent to him the previous night and rocking back and forth in an attempt to quell the anxiety holding him by the throat and making his heart beat a mile a minute. As soon as Swatch opens the door, Spamton tries to make a break for it but Swatch catches him by the back of his shirt, closing the door and locking it with his free hand before dropping Spamton back on the bed.

“NO! NO LET ME! I NEED TO        !” Spamton screams, running back to the locked door and grabbing on the knob, jiggling desperately.

“This again? Spamton… what can convince you to forget about this?” Swatch asks as he sighs, taking the small puppet in his wings.

Spamton lets out an electronic wail, his little body curling up as he grabs his head.

“PLEASE [[Make It Stop!]] It hurts, help! [[It Burns! IT BURNS!]]” The little puppet laments, his head glitching out wildly as he sobs.

Swatch shifts Spamton to hold him against his chest like a baby. His eyes are somewhere else, as if he doesn’t see Swatch just in front of him. His small body is trembling as he cries while holding his head, breaking the butler’s heart. Poor Swatch isn’t sure what to do with him: he has never seen anything like this before but he knows he desperately wants to make his small friend feel better.

Gently, he takes a wing to his cheek and starts rubbing it, looking at Spamton’s eyes the whole time to try to decipher what is going on in his head.

“PLEASE… Please, if I don’t… it’ll never stop.” He says, his voice sounding normal for the first time since Swatch heard him speak on the phone.

“What won’t stop?” Swatch asks, making sure his voice is soft and calming.

“THE RINGING! THE RINGING! IT’S RINGING, ALWAYS RINGING. IT’S PULLING AT MY [[Silly Strings]], AT MY [[Brain]]. THE BASEMENT, THE DISK. THE BASEMENT THE DISK THE BASEMENT THE DISK THE BASEMENT THE-”

“Spamton!” Swatch says, just loud enough to interrupt the small puppet that is trembling in his hold. “Spamton, I’ll help you stop it.” Swatch tries not to show his fear when he sees hope and relief in the little puppet’s eyes: he looks so desperate for relief that Swatch isn’t even certain how to provide.

“PLEASE! I JUST WANT [[Please Make It Stop]]! I JUST NEED TO FINISH THE DEAL...” Spamton pleads, hoping Swatch will let him into the basement, and will let him accomplish his part of the deal so he can be free.

“Can’t you… end the deal?” Swatch carefully asks, tilting their head.

Spamton’s eyes bulge out at the suggestion, as if Swatch had just suggested to cut his own head off. “THE DEAL. B-BACKING OUT? LIKE A [[Worthless Slime]]?”

“It seems to me like this deal is making you miserable, Spamton. Plus, if they haven’t paid their part, you don’t owe yours either. Just tell them it’s off.”

Spamton is suddenly still in the butler’s hold as he considers the suggestion. End the deal… that would mean no freedom, no [[Hyperlink Block]]. Living the rest of his life as Spamton, the useless puppet with nothing to his name and who no one cares about is a life he doesn’t consider worth living.

“What was even their end of the deal?” Swatch asks after a moment of silence.

“Freedom. [[Hyperlink Blocked]].” Spamton replies, eyes vacant again.

“You don’t look free at all, Spamton.” The comment snaps the puppet ot of his trance, giving the butler an incredulous look.

“W-what?”

“I said that you don’t look free Spamton. Ever since I caught you speaking on the phone, you seem more trapped in your head than ever. You look scared and miserable. How can you know they will keep their end of the deal?”

“OH.” Spamton feels as if he has just been slapped in the face by reality. Swatch is right: if there is a time in his life where he has truly felt trapped and scared, small and powerless, it’s now. It’s even since he took the deal and because the threat of losing everything is hanging over his head. He looks at his small, articulated hands.

“I… I need a phone.” He tells Swatch, feeling more lucid and terrified than ever.

Chapter Text

Spamton had insisted to be in Swatch’s arms as he unhooks the receiver, which the polite bird complied to, keeping the small puppet close to his chest. Despite the arm and soft feathers against his small body, Spamton is shaking as he holds the receiver to his ear. He knows he doesn’t have to compose a number, only to press the dial back button: it doesn’t matter who last used the landline. He knew it would recognise him… it always does.

He had asked to sit on Swatch’s lap to motivate him into actually renouncing to the deal. A large part of him didn’t want to, but he also knows that unlike It’s help and friendship, Swatch’s and the swatchlings’ wasn’t conditional. The difference between who cares about him and who is using him is clear as day, even if accepting that the promise of freedom and power are most likely lies. And that even if they aren’t lies, he still has to choose between being surrounded by friends or destroying his last remaining friendships for freedom. And with how horrible and terrified he felt when he thought he had become truly alone, he would rather not experience that again.

The line makes a dialling tone once Spamton has pressed the pound button, holding his breath during the short silence. He starts by only hearing white noise, but he knows that’s how it’s supposed to start: the only time he knows he isn’t reaching It is when he hears garbage noise.

“Spamton?” The voice asks coldly at the other end of the line, the small puppet shivering despite himself: he can never get used to the voice knowing it’s him they’re talking to without his need to announce himself.

“Hi, hum… I wanted to talk about our deal.” Spamton starts, noting his voice is normal despite Swatch’s presence. He’s still not sure how that fully works. 

“I have a feeling you are about to tell me something rather unpleasant.” The voice harshly states.

“I… would like to renounce to our deal.” Spamton squeaks out, his voice strangled as his voice is closing in panic. He wants to throw up so bad.

“Really? Are you not interested in Freedom anymore? In power? In being R̵̨̆e̴̱͆ạ̴̈́l̷̞͊? You are fine with remaining a P̷̨̊u̸̠̽p̷̝̒p̸̛̱è̵̠t̸̤̕ with a prescribed destiny?” It asks, its voice mocking. Spamton winces every time the voice glitches when it speaks, sounding like he had called a fax machine line for split seconds.

“I… I don’t believe you anymore. I d-don’t… I have never felt less free than since you called me.” Spamton accuses, his voice quivering horribly with terror at what It might do to him now that he’s rebelling against It .

“Idiotic L̵̼̂i̸̼͑t̶̖̎t̶̗̽l̷̠̍e̴͈͛ ̸͈S̸̽͜p̵͚͑õ̵͓n̶͔͘g̵̼̀é̸͇, S̸͍͝ȃ̵̭c̶͕̈́r̵̩͝i̶̼͂f̷̰̕î̷͚c̴͈̓e̴͉̐s̴̗͘ must be made. Like everything, F̷̰͂r̵̻̿ẻ̷͙e̵̢̐d̶̑ͅo̸̰̐m̸͕͆ comes at a P̶͓̎r̸͔̾i̶̦͘c̴͇ȩ̴̋. I would think that out of everyone, a Ṡ̴̗a̶̠͝l̵̫̂ē̶͔s̶̺̆m̵̰͘a̵̭͑n̵̪̑ would know that.” Spamton’s breath catches and he looks down. It ’s right, the voice is right! Freedom only comes at the cost of friendship. He chuckles nervously, feeling inebriated by the voice again.

Then a wing gently squeezes his side and he looks up to see Swatch giving him a concerned expression and Spamton remembers why he wanted to call off the deal. That supposed freedom, the vague promise he made of it, came at the cost of something else much more real and important to him.

“WELL YOU CAN SHOVE YOUR SACRIFICE UP YOUR ASS! THE DEAL IS OFF.” Spamton shouts before slamming the receiver, startling himself when the rotary phone he was using emits a small ding in complaint. He then blushes, realising he just swore in front of someone as dignified as Swatch.

There is a moment of silence, followed by a small snort and subdued laughter. Spamton looks up again to see Swatch laughing behind his wing. Spamton blushes in embarrassment. “Sorry, I am not mocking you my dear Spamton. It’s just the first time I have seen you get truly mad. I did not expect that.”

Spamton smiles at the realisation: yes, he got angry, rightfully angry. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time. There was no shadow of fear in the sentiment he had felt: he was just furious that the voice was trying to manipulate him again, that it was working and that it tried to make him devalue his friends again.

“How do you feel?” Swatch asks after letting the little puppet have a moment of contemplative silence.

“I...” Spamton attempts, feeling a bit nervous to try out his voice again now that he hung up the phone. “RELIEVED.” He states, cringing at hearing his own inability to modulate his voice. It seems like some parts of himself will take a while to learn to control again… or might just be permanently damaged. He’s a bit afraid to find out which it is.

Swatch hugs the little puppet, turning his world into a swirl of nothing but black feathers. Spamton hugs him back and he lets relief and happiness wash over his little body. He didn’t need to worry about what would happen if he didn’t follow Its orders. He was no longer bound to a contract.

The phone rings and Spamton tenses, he goes to pick up but Swatch does so instead. The butler’s expression hardens when he hears the voice on the other end.

“No, he told you the deal was off. Leave him alone or you’ll have to deal with me!” Swatch raises his tone before hanging up on the voice. “I do not know how you were able to spend so much time with them on the phone. I could barely understand their voice through all that horrible noise.”

Spamton gives the bird a surprised look: today was the first time he heard the horrible noise Swatch is talking about. He thought it was caused by It ’s anger, but it seems to be something else.

“THANK YOU.” Spamton beams at his friend, placing a small hand on one of his wings.

Spamton finds himself feeling lighter as he helps Swatch with dinner. He still isn’t allowed to use the oven or stovetop by himself, but Swatch lets him cut their vegetables and batter the meat. He even showed him his recipe for his 3 bytes (buttery berry biscuits). And for a while, Spamton was able to tolerate his own glitchiness.

After insisting, Swatch lets him do the dishes while he showers and gets ready for his nightly reading. The puppet finds himself feeling strange, the best word he could find would be tangled. He’s used to struggling to move as he wishes every day, making his movements stiff and eerie, but now is different. It feels as if some moves are completely normal, like they felt years ago before he started talking to It . This means he often finds himself using too much force in those movements. Meanwhile, others are even more of a struggle if they aren’t near impossible to do. He almost feels trapped in a net, but as jarring as that is, he would rather deal with that than with being controlled.

Once he puts away the last utensil, he climbs onto his makeshift bed to lay down, staring at the pristine ceiling. And he finally notices it. Silence.

No static, no electronic buzz, no faint ringing, no whispers in the back of his mind. All he can hear is the water pouring down from Swatch’s shower-head and the man gently chirping a tune. Spamton had never heard him chirp like the other swatchlings before and he can’t help but think his voice is lovely. The puppet lets out a happy sigh, feeling at peace, his eyes closing by themselves.

They shoot wide open to pure darkness. He tries to sit up, but no matter how much he struggles, he can barely move his limbs, lifting them less than an inch off the cold floor. He struggles but manages to turn his head and witnesses them: the cables attaching to his limbs are limply laying around his paralyzed body.

He suddenly feels strangled and is violently sat up. Appearing from the darkness itself is a vague form, a monster like Spamton has never seen before: both shapeless and terrifying, looking as if it could both tear him to shreds and phase through him.

“Is that what you are trying to do?” The monster asks… it has Its voice. “You should know puppets don’t move on their own.” It teases before laughing at the terror in Spamton’s eyes. It pulls him further up: his feet are touching the ground and yet can’t bear any of his weight. Instead, it’s the wires around his neck holding him up, effectively strangling him.

“What’s wrong? Can’t stand up on your own feet?” It cooes with an awful grin, leaning closer to Spamton to watch the fear in his eyes. "Don't you know puppets don’t breathe?” It mocks. “Don’t you know puppets don’t see?” It continues, Spamton’s world switching to nothing as It utters the words. ”Don’t you know puppets don’t feel?” It asks again, and Spamtton doesn’t even feel his last breath leaving his body. “Don’t you know puppets don’t hear?” It whispers, Its next words reverberating into Spamtton’s skull like in an empty room instead of coming through his ears. “Don’t you know puppets don’t think.” Nothing.

And yet something calls to him. Something stronger than fear and death.

“SPAMTON!” The puppet’s eyes shoot wide open at the scream in his ears and he suddenly starts feeling everything again, except that everything is still pitch black. His first reaction is to scream, a horrible, glitchy scream that sounds more like a tire screech than something coming out of a living being.

“Shhht, shhht!” Swatch soothes as he gently puts soft feathers to Spamton's mouth to muet his scream, but not enough to keep him from making the noise. Then a warm light is suddenly turned on and Spamton sees Swatch’s worried expression mere inches from his face and stops screaming, instead opting to grab onto the wing on his face as if his life depended on it. He smells them, taking in the scent of woodsy feather conditioner and of paper. He looks at them, noting how thick and strong some are while others are smaller and softer. He listens to the soft noise they make against his soft wooden skin. He feels how soft they are under his fingers, how some bend slightly and others remain stiff. He’s alive, he’s conscious and a living being. “SWATCH.” His voice is still loud despite being strangled. He takes a deep breath. He can breathing.

“Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay. I’m here.” Swatch soothes with his warm, comforting voice. He combs through Spamtton’s bed hair with his other wing to soothe him and Spamton looks back up at the bird’s face. His usually smooth features are creased in worry, his orange mouth in a pout and his small, black eyes have a slight brown hue to it. Spamton doesn’t know if it’s just because of the lighting, but he thinks it makes them look warm and soulful.

He releases the wing over his mouth and Swatch gently uses it to wipe the tears Spamton didn’t realize were streaming down his face. His eyes are leaking so much however that his cheek remains dry for less than a second. It makes him smile, makes him feel lighter: alive. He’s crying. Things don’t cry. Swatch tilts his head slightly like a curious bird and Spamton feels his heart swell with affection as he can’t help but think that this is adorable. His heart is warm, warmer than he felt it be for years. His own cheeks warm up as he realizes what this means. Not only is he reconnecting with his own feelings but…

“Are you okay?” Swatch asks softly. Spamton wipes his tears for good and nods. The nightmare is still sticking to his skin like sweat, but at least he knows it was only a nightmare.

“You got me worried. You fell from the chair then… then stopped breathing.” Swatch sounds choked up upon saying the last words. He closes his eyes and clears his throat to better hide his emotions. “Sorry.”

“DON’T APOLOGIZE, [[Handsome Reward of $10,000]]. I BETTER HOPE YOU CRY IF YOU THINK I’M DYING.” Spamton says with a big smile, his face turning bee red as his compliment is corrupted into something else. It does sound like this part of him is there to stay.

Swatch doesn’t look amused at all, glaring at the little puppet. Despite this, he helps him sit up and remains kneeling on the ground in front of him. “I’m not sure… should we take you to the doctor?” Swatch asks cautiously. Spamton starts laughing, not even feeling guilty when the bird glares even harder at him.

“DOCTORS DON’T CURE PUPPETS, [[Silly Strings]].” He explains.

“Wait… You’ve never gone to one?” Swatch asks in concern.

“OH NO, I DID! THEY JUST DON'T WORK ON WOOD.” He says, still smiling as he knocks on his own wooden head for emphasis. It still doesn’t seem to sit right with Swatch. “GOT ALL MY [[Oil Changes And Repairs]] DONE AT THE TOYMAKER.” Swatch tries to read his expression to see if he is kidding and deflates when he sees the little guy is completely serious. “IT’S OKAY, I’M STILL ALIVE AND [[Kick-off]], AREN’T I?” The bird doesn’t seem very much appeased.

Spamton hesitates half a second before leaning forward and rubbing his small fingers on the knot made by Swatch’s invisible eyebrows, giving the big bird an affectionate smile. “YOU’RE GONNA CREASE YOUR PRETTY FACE IF YOU KEEP WORRYING LIKE THAT.”

Swatch sighs and gets up to sit on the edge of his bed, holding his face in his wings. “I’m just… what if it happens again and I don’t wake up next time?”

Spamton watches the bird, his little heart shattering at the sight of him truly upset. Yet it’s reassuring to see someone be upset about him dying: he didn’t think it was possible anymore. He looks down at his small hands and puts one to his chest, closing his eyes. His heart aches and he doesn’t feel any other pain. His mind is still quiet and his body isn’t hurting in intangible pain. There are no invisible strings pulling on him or making him numb.

“WHAT IF I SLEEP NEXT TO YOU?” Spamton suggest, his little face turning red again. He is surprised to see a light blush on Swatch’s own cheeks when the bird looks back up at him.

“Huh?” The butler says, not eloquent for the first time. Spamton feels bad again: he does look seriously shaken.

“YOU’RE A [[Light Bright]] SLEEPER, RIGHT? I FELL FROM THE CHAIR BECAUSE I THRASHED. IF I DID THAT NEXT TO YOU, YOU COULD WAKE ME UP BEFORE SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS. [[What Say You?]]” Swatch looks surprised by the proposition but soon smiles, getting back up, this time to take the puppet in his warm, soft wings. Spamton thinks his heart is about to explode when his face is pushed against the soft chest feathers poking out of Swatch’s pyjamas.

“That’s a clever idea.” He compliments as he brings Spamton to his bed, pushing his extra pillow next to his own before setting the small puppet against it. Swatch slides back into bed, tucking Spamton tightly next to him before pulling out a book. “If that’s alright, Spamton, I would like to read some before going to sleep again. It would help my nerves.” He shyly admits, as if having emotions was a bad thing. Spamton nods, not admitting he’d rather sleep with a light on anyways: he doesn’t think he’s ready to face pitch darkness for a while after that nightmare.

Once Swatch is settled in, Spamton scoots closer, gauging the bird’s reaction to see how much cuddling he’ll be allowed. Swatch spares him a glance before smirking at his book and wrapping a wing around the puppet’s small body and pulling him to his chest. Despite his best attempt to enjoy the affection for as long as possible, Spamton’s small exhausted body quickly forces him back to sleep.

Spamton is once again woken by Swatch’s alarm. the bird groans at the noise and angrily shuts it off. There are heavy bags under his pretty eyes and Spamton can’t help but feel a bit guilty.

“WHY DON’T YOU CALL IN S-S-SSSSSS-SI-SIIIIIIIIIIII-” Spamton tries to close his mouth to stop the noise but finds it locked open. He tries to force it closed with his hands but finds his whole head seems frozen in a glitch. His torso suddenly convulses and a large chunk of gooey static jumps out of his mouth to land on Swatch’s lovely pyjamas.

“OH NO I’M SORRY!” His head functions as normal again as he speaks. He hates to admit it, put throwing up that thing relieved him. Swatch sighs, looking irritated, pinching the bridge of his beak as he closes his eyes. 

“It’s okay Spamton, I know you didn’t mean to.” He takes some tissues from the box in his night stand to sponge up the mess, Spamton’s face turning red as his mind wanders about what Swatch is doing with tissues by his bed. He tries to convince himself it’s only because he reads moving novels but can’t manage to erase the other thoughts he had.

The large bird gets up and resigns himself to showering again and Spamton decides to prepare breakfast again, this time something nice and warm. He smiles as he doesn’t make a stupid misttake. But then again, it's hard to mess up oatmeal and tea.

The following days are mostly uneventful. Spamton finds himself throwing up more of that static goo but is able to run to the bathroom most of the time. The other times he insisted on cleaning it, even if he did notice Swatch cleaning after his cleaning. Despite the butler being worried, Spamton is glad it’s happening. Each time, he only feels better, as if his body is purging him of something. And each time, he feels as if his movements are a bit easier and his voice easier to modulate. He doesn’t stop being loud, but at least now he can be close to Swatch without hurting his ears.

Despite all this, a part of Spamton still sometimes thinks about Its promise, about what is in the basement. Would it truly have freed him? Wouldn't have made him a real boy? Would it have made him strong and smart, would it have ensured no one would take advantage of him again or treat him poorly because of his size? He can’t help but wonder, because despite slowly becoming himself again, he is also becoming sorely awake of how much he wanted to escape that person. His body, his face, his purpose were always but a cheap ripoff of the Addisons. They treated him like one of their own, but he could tell they also knew something wasn’t quite right. He came to terms with the fact he’ll never know what he truly is, but it doesn’t keep him from wanting to be something else. 

Despite this, Swatch always treats him kindly. Not as an Addison, but as his own type of being. The bird never seemed more than concerned at his glitches and never looked down on him for his size: though Spamtton assumes it’s because he has to look down at everyone else anyway. Despite feeling closer to the bird ever since he woke up from that nightmare, he can’t help but have something on the back of his mind, something that makes him think that Swatch took him in out of concern for whatever is in the basement rather than for his sake.

“HEY, [[Pretty Bird]] CAN I ASK YOU SOMETHING?” Spamton asks as he pokes at his shortcutlet.

Swatch smiles slightly at the compliment: Swapton has been laying them on thick lately and the bird assumes it’s his own special way of thanking him. “Always.” He happily replies, putting his utensils down politely as he listens.

“OKAY, WELL...” Spamton tries to find a delicate way to put his question and sighs, giving up politeness. He was never good at it anyways. “WHEN YOU FOUND OUT ABOUT THE STRANGE CALLS, YOU SENT A SWATCHLING TO SPY ON ME. SO I WONDER IF… IF ALL THIS IS BECAUSE YOU WANT TO KEEP AN EYE ON ME.” Spamton asks, glaring at his shortcutlet instead of at Swatch.

The bird is silent for a moment, shocked at the revelation. “I… Spamton, if I wasn't clear, you are free to leave whenever you want. I only lock the door so you don’t wander the castle.” Swatch explains, blushing slightly as he takes offense to the implications. “Plus, I wasn’t… spying… on you. I sent a swatchling to guard you. The way you acted afraid after that person talked to you, I was worried someone was trying to hurt you.”

Spamton looks up, his face flushing red as well when he meets with Swatch’s expression: it reads nothing but seriousness and honesty. Spamton feels stupid for thinking badly of the bird who has been nothing but kind to him and looks down at his plate in shame.

“But I guess… I shouldn’t hold it against you. To think that way, that is. It seems that so far, the people you trusted the most didn’t have your best intentions at heart.” Swatch sighs, his expression softening significantly. Spamton swallows a lump in his throat: Swatch is right. After what he went through, despite being freed from Its influence, it doesn’t look like he is freed from what It put it through.

They eat the rest of their meal in silence as Spamton digests this new information. He had assumed he would only be left with physical glitches and tics, but it looks like his psyche will need some repair as well. At least he still feels safe with Swatch at his side, not only because the bird is tall and strong, but because he makes him want to keep trying, makes him want to be the best Spamton he can be. Especially when Swatch still insists that Spamton sleeps by his side and lets him curl up against his chest. If he can fall asleep hearing the slow and strong heartbeat every night for the rest of his life, he know he will be happy.

Chapter Text

More than a week had passed since Spamton’s nightmare and he was settling into his new life. He was learning to cook properly without hurting himself, cleaned after himself and even did the laundry for Swatch. He felt useful. It was nothing near what he used to do, being filmed and photographed to promote products to the masses. But knowing his attention and care helped make Swatch’s life easier brought him a simple pleasure. He even took to reading again, discovering Swatch is reading almost nothing but sappy romance novels about rugged rogues and handsome princes falling in love and having a secret romance.

Those books made Spamton a little hopeful, but considering the rogues in the books are always tall, muscular, clever, competent and good with their words, that hope remains frail. 

Sunday is Swatch’s day off, where the Swatchlings took over for him at the café. Spamton wakes up to the swatchlings running around in the corridor but Swatch doesn’t stir from his sleep. This convinces the puppet to remain immobile, especially since he is comfortable anyway. His head is resting against Swatch’s slowly rising and falling chest and his body is covered by one of his large, warm wing like a blanket of feathers. Spamton smiles to himself: it only took Swatch a few days to bring him heaven. What a deal. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed, this warm, this safe, this cared for.

Swatch yawns and Spamton closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep so he can stay in bed a little longer. He hears a soft chuckle resonate in Swatch’s chest and Swatch lifts his wing to start running it through his hair. “Don’t you look cute when you’re sleeping.” Swatch chuckles again, stopping when he notices the deep blush on Spamton’s cheeks. “When you are pretending to sleep too, it looks like.” Spamton gives up the act, smiling sheepishly at Swatch.

“We shouldn’t sleep in too late, or we won’t be tired enough for bed time.” Swatch explains, still running his feathers through Spamton’s hair. “You look like a spoiled tasq.” The butler adds, chuckling again. It makes Spamton’s chest bubble with happiness to know Swatch enjoys cute things, even if he himself would call his appearance more unsettling than cute.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t have you pegged for a cuddler, but I can see it now.” Swatch seems to be in a chatty mood and Spamton is more than happy to listen to his beautiful voice, letting out a little happy sigh as his scalp is quickly scratched before Swatch takes his wing away to get up. Spamton lets himself fall on the bed, squeaking when Swatch grabs him to put him on the cold floor. He shivers, putting one foot over the other to try to warm his freezing feet.

Swatch stretches and invites Spamton to help him prepare pancakes, watching the little puppet hands’ increased dexterity. Spamton does his best to shape a pancake to create a portrait of Swatch but utterly fails. Swatch retorts by making a successful portrait of him, which he is given to eat once they both have their pancake piles.

“SO WHAT ARE WE DOING TODAY, [[Handsome]]?” Spamton silently curses his glitch for making him so blunt. He really is nothing like a suave rogue. Swatch only smiles at the compliment, not minding it at all.

“I didn’t plan anything in particular to be honest. But I am glad you want to spend your time with me. I expected you to want to escape the mansion for a while.” Swatch laughs.

Spamton blinks as he realizes what Swatch just said. He didn’t have to hang out with Swatch on his day off. He was doing it because he wanted to. Everything he was doing lately was of his own free will. Of course, Swatch asked him to help with some things, but there is no danger if he refuses. 

The both of them change into casual clothes, having showered the evening before. Spamton picks his best clothes: a white tee-shirt with red accents including a breast pocket, a dark grey knitted cardigan with red and white accents to coordinate with his white pants. Feeling handsome, he steps out of the bathroom to walk in on Swatch putting on some square clear glasses to top off his look, which is a white collared shirt under a silk black waistcoat peppered with accents of colors as well as a pair of black and white dress pants.

“Adorable.” Spamton hears Swatch say under his breath as his eyes land on the puppet, making his heart jump.

“WELL YOU’RE HANDSOME.” Spamton retorts, pretending to be offended and making Swatch blush a little as he realises he was heard, but he still laughs heartily.

“It looks like we are all dressed up. It would be a shame not to show everyone our looks. Why not have a lovely stroll.” Swatch offers, grabbing a carry bag and a dapper hat, putting the hat on his head before inviting Spamton to hide in the bag. The small puppet jumps in, easily fitting inside the large bag and waits for it to be opened again to jump out. He takes a deep breath of fresh air and realizes it has indeed been a while since he stepped foot outside.

Spamton follows Swatch on a small scenic path where they can both admire the cyber fields and the city in the background. As they walk, they tell each other stories about different parts of town, some being crazy events happening and others being their own tales. They walk for about an hour before Swatch stops to rest on a bench to rest his legs. Spamton joins him by climbing the bench and comfortably resting his head against the butler’s arm, making the taller smile.

“You look well.” Swatch suddenly comments, smiling at Spamton. “Even when you first came into the Mansion, I have never seen you this relaxed and well rested.”

“KINDA HELPS THAT [[My Very Best Friend]] IS A WALKING PILLOW.” Spamton replies, beaming when Swatch snorts.

“That’s a new one: I’ve never been called a pillow before.” The butler says, amused.

A short silence hangs between them, each enjoying the other’s presence.

“Can I ask what happened to the friends you had before coming to the Mansion?” Swatch asks, his voice purposefully gently. He feels Spamton tense against his arm and he sees him ponder for a moment before answering.

“I DON’T KNOW. THEY STOPPED WANTING TO HANG OUT WITH ME WHEN I HIT IT BIG. I… I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” Spamton admits. Acknowledging this still hurt because he can’t help but to think what happened is his fault somehow.

“Me neither, because you are a great friend, Spamton.” Swatch says, opening his beak slightly to continue before deciding to keep it at that and move his wing to wrap it around his small friend.

“Do you feel lonely in my room all day? I know you used to always be around people.” Swatch asks after a few more moments of silence.

“YEAH, I MISS THE [[Lovely Members Of The Public]]. BUT I GET TO LOOK FORWARD TO THE COMPANY OF THE BEST BIRD IN THE WORLD EVERY DAY.” Spamton replies, trying not to make Swatch feel bad about his situation. He hopes the butler hasn’t been worried about this.

“But what if you could spend your day with the best bird in the world, as you put it?” Swatch asks, his smile slightly mischievous. Spamton looks up at him in shock. The suggestion clearly excites him as he gets up and puts his small hands on the bird’s chest.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Spamton asks, excitement making his eyes twinkle in anticipation.

“How would you like to work at the Color Café with me? After all, you seem to be in good enough shape now to be able to earn your keep.” Swatch declares. He expected Spamton to complain or be miffed, but instead, he gives Swatch a hug. The butler gently puts his wings around the small salesman, chuckling softly. “I think it’s the first time I’ve seen someone excited about work.”

Swatch runs his feather fingers in Spamton’s longish hair. Lately, he has noticed he sleeps better with his little friend by his side. Not only that, but holding him like this against his chest makes him feel relaxed and helps him forget about work, which is usually always on his mind unless he’s reading a romance novel.

Swatch gently pulls out of the hug to smile down at Spamton.

“Now, we have a few things to do first. I need to vouch for you in front of the Queen and must ensure you have a uniform as well. Let’s start with the latter, since it is more fun. What do you say?” Swatch offers, laughing when his puppet friend nods vigorously. 

Swatch gets up and offers Spamton his wing to help him up. As they start walking, the little puppet keeps his small hand wrapped around one of Swatch’s fingers so the butler decides to keep holding onto his small hand as well, smiling softly as they make their way to the city.

Since his head is in the clouds from being allowed to hold Swatch’s hand, Spamton barely notices the way they are headed until they pass a familiar street he would take to meet with the Addisons after work.

He stops in his track, but Swatch doesn’t feel the sudden resistance in time and the poor puppet ends up losing balance and being dragged for a couple of feet. Thankfully, Swatch is so tall only his feet were dragging on the ground.

“My apologies, Spamton. Did you need to stop for something?” Swatch asks, tilting his head as he helps his little friend stand back up.

“AH… WELL...” The puppet rubs at his arm. “IS THE [[Fashion Boutique]] YOU WANT TO TAKE ME, MAYBE… RUN BY AN ADDISON?” Spamton asks, trying to sound as casual as possible, but his voice still cracks. And considering the volume at which he talks, it’s hard to miss.

“Why, yes. It’s one of Queen’s branded shops too. Is this an issue?” Spamton looks away, trying to find how to explain his situation to Swatch. He takes a deep breath, noticing the large bird is still holding onto his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. For some reason, this observation gives him courage.

“HE WAS ONE OF MY [[Friend Request Rejected]].”

“I see. Does that mean you would rather find another solution for your uniform? To be perfectly honest, I chose this shop because it’s the only store I know that carries your size I’m afraid.”

Spamton lowers his head as he tries to find a solution: he would suggest going to a Plugboy store, but while they are about of similar height, everything is way too wide.

“You don’t have to talk to him if that makes you uncomfortable. All you would need to do is try on clothes. Does that work for you my dear? My dear friend.” Swatch asks, his cheeks flaring red at the slip up. Spamton looks at him in surprise before blushing back and making a lighthearted chuckle. It seemed to have heightened his mood.

“AS LONG AS YOU PAY, [[Honey Pie]]!” Spamton teases as he starts walking again, blushing despite himself. It’s a bit risky to play this game, but if he keeps seeing that Swatch is enjoying being called sweet things, he’s going to use that to see if he can still score a boyfriend. It’s been a while since he even tried flirting with anyone and it’s about time he starts trying again.

The pep in Spamton’s step soon dies off when the duo step onto the street where the clothing store is situated and he slows down enough that he ends behind Swatch, though he only holds onto the butler’s hand tighter. When they enter the store, only his long nose is visible to the shopkeeper. Thankfully, the orange Addison is more interested in making a sale than in finding out what is hiding behind the renowned butler.

“Good morning beloved customer! I hope you’re doing fantastic today! Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Good morning. I would like to see your 5xs size tuxedos please.”

The Addison looks Swatch up and down in surprise at the request but nods. ”But of course! Please, follow me.”

They walk past the sections displaying the more affordable clothes into one garnished with nothing but three-piece suits, tuxedos and luxurious dresses. The orange Addison asks if he can help further, but Swatch is quick to dismiss him with a thank you. As he walks away, he looks back and ends up making direct eye contact with Spamton and immediately stopping in his tracks.

“Spam?” The salesman asks, his expression souring at the sight of his small ex-friend.

Spamton feels his heart sink in his chest, and decides to walk around Swatch to hide behind him again.

“Is something the matter?” The bird asks, looking over his shoulder towards the Addison who seems to consider his options before turning around and continuing on his way.

“thank you...” Spamton mutters, his hand being gently squeezed in return. 

“Let’s find you something adequate to wear at the café.” Swatch offers, heading to the rack of tuxedos. The large bird has to crouch to help the puppet look since all the smaller sizes are on lower racks. They end up selecting a few tuxedos to try on: an Italian one, a tailed one and one double breasted. Along with some white shirts, pocket squares, bowties, a vest and a cummerbund. Swatch helps him carry the large pile of clothes to the changing room before heading out to look for more pieces. The bird smiles when he spots a mannequin that looks eerily like Spamton. It’s wearing a cute little blue ball gown and Swatch can’t help but think that his little friend would look adorable in it, especially if he put a ribbon in his hair. He didn't think he could suggest that to him, worried Spamton would take it badly.

Swatch spots the orange Addison putting away clothes and decides to step up to them. He knows it’s not his place to solve Spamton’s problems for him, but he wants to have peace of mind that the vendor will be kind to the nervous puppet.

“Excuse me.” Swatch says with his buttery voice, waiting for the man to turn around and face him.

“Ah… yes, how may I be of service?” The Addison asks with a customer service-smile that melts slightly when Swatch takes a step closer to him to put emphasis on their height difference.

“I do not know why you and Spamton had a falling out, but I want you to know that I will not allow you to be unkind to him.”

The Addison takes a step back but still stands tall, trying not to let himself be intimidated. “Are you his boyfriend?”

Swatch’s neck feathers fluff up at the unexpected question and he hates that he can feel his face flush. He frowns, not happy to have been taken off guard like this.

“I am someone who cares about him and who did not abandon him.” Swatch retorts, his tone accusatory. He isn’t usually one to pick fights, but he felt personally slighted by the question.

“Whoa… chill.” The Addison replies and it’s now his turn to blush. “We just stopped being friends, that’s a thing that happens.”

Swatch sighs, shaking his head. “You still should have had the decency of talking to him instead of simply disappearing and making him feel like he never mattered to you in the first place.” And with that, he turns on his heels to end the conversation, returning to the changing rooms in time to see Spamton come out with his first outfit.

Swatch didn’t think he’d have this much fun making the little puppet try on outfits, but he can’t help but find him adorable when his chest inflates every time he calls him handsome. They agree to settle in a mostly black look with red accents. Spamton is looking at himself in the mirror, adjusting his red bowtie when Swatch bends down to run fingers through his hair. The small man blushes, his heart jumping in his chest at the affection. It almost feels taboo in public: not that Spamton is shy about PDA. Rather, it’s the fact that it makes them look like boyfriends that feels forbidden.

“Your hair is quite long in the back. It clashes with the look.” Swatch ponders, still playing with the locks as he thinks about it. He doesn’t want to tell Spamton to cut his hair, mostly because he finds it fun to play with. “Oh, I know the solution!” Walking over to the accessory rack, Swatch picks up a silk ribbon and removes it from its package to tie Spamton’s mullet with it, forming a perfect bow on top. “There, like a gift.” Swatch says affectionately. Spamton turns around and looks over his shoulder at his tied hair. He likes it, and it helps keep it out of the way.

When he looks back at Swatch to thank him, he’s shocked by how tender the expression on the bird is and it’s almost enough to kill him right there. What is happening? He’s not sure he understands. He’s short, can’t speak normally to save his life, has been nothing but a burden and yet Swatch is looking at him as if he were one of those handsome rogues from his novels. He needs to find something charming to say fast before the spell dissipates!

“BUT YOU’RE THE [[Free Promotional Item]]!” He immediately hides his face in his hands in embarrassment from having immediately blundered. Thankfully, Swatch only gently chuckles.

“It looks like we have found the perfect uniform for you. Just in time to be able to have lunch together before meeting with Queen.” The bird explains as he sends Spamton back towards the changing room. Swatch buys the clothes and catches the orange Addison glancing at Spamton from time to time, but nothing more. They let the puppet carry the large bag himself since he looks excited about his new clothes. After some discussion, they decide to eat at an Italian restaurant since Spamton is craving carbs and Swatch refuses to enter a diner. They are swiftly seated and because Spamton already knows what he wants to eat, he decides to look in the bag for the ribbon Swatch got for his hair, wanting to look at it.

That’s when the small puppet notices an orange envelope in the bag. He pulls it out without a word and turns it around to see his name on it.

He carefully opens it and looks at the Queen branded card.

Dear Spam,
I’m sorry for the way we treated you.
I think I speak for the four of us when I say
we miss you and wish to make peace and reconnect.
Of course, I understand if you can’t forgive us,
but I still think we owe you answers. 

Call or text me if you want to talk: 555-4653

I’m glad to see you have a caring friend now,

Reach

“What is that?” Swatch asks curiously as he sees Spamton reading the note he also hasn’t noticed before.

“It’s Reach, the clothing store Addison he… ” Spamton feels his voice catch in his throat. The people he thought hated him want to apologise and maybe even be friends again. The people who were a sort of family to him, those who accepted him despite him looking like no other darkner he has met so far.

He hands the card to Swatch since the bird looks furious. It makes Spamton chuckle through tears when his angry expression becomes shocked. The puppet wipes his eyes with a napkin so he doesn’t soil his outfit.

“That’s… is that something you wish for? To meet them again?” Swatch asks, looking unsure. Spamton nods vigorously before drinking some water to soothe his throat.

“Yeah, they mean a lot to me.” Spamton says, surprising himself with how normal his voice sounded just now. Is it because he spoke with his heart, just like when he thanked Swatch for helping him after the phone call?

He smiles to himself sadly: that would make sense. His mind still feels very broken, but his heart is starting to mend. Maybe that’s it, maybe he just needs to be patient and he’ll learn how to manage them. Though if calm and confidence are what he needs not to glitch, he’s going to have a hard time.

“I am glad they want to fix things with you. But please, know I will always be there if you need an attentive ear.” The way Swatch’s wing is resting on Spamton’s small hand and the loving smile he is giving him makes the puppet’s heart beat so hard it feels like it’s trying to jump out of his chest to find Swatch’s warm and feathery embrace.

“I...” Spamton is so close to saying the two other words, but the fear of shouting them or glitching them is too hard to overcome. “THANK YOU. YOU TOO!” He exclaims before blushing and scratching the back of his head.

“I MEAN! YOU CAN TELL ME STUFF TOO! I CAN HIT THE [[Mute Button]] FROM TIME TO TIME, [[Believe It Or Not]]!” He gives Swatch a big smile and is pleased to find the bird chuckling at him.

“I… I want to be there for you too.” Spamton says, looking Swatch directly in the eyes. His gaze must have been intense because the usually stoic bird has to look away from him for a few moments before looking back at him, giving his little hand a squeeze.

“Thank you Spamton, I will do my best to be more open.”

Thankfully, the waiter arrives in time to stop Spamton for exploding in his seat into a million little cupid replicas of himself.

Chapter Text

Spamton swallows thickly as he walks into the castle. He’s glad the restaurant they are at was a good walk away because his spaghetti would be trying to climb back out of his stomach if he hadn’t had the time to digest.

Swatch is still holding his hand as they head towards the throne room. They catch the sight of swatchlings, some of them cooing in appreciation and others tilting their head in confusion. It’s not too surprising that they don’t understand what he is doing there since he is meant to be banned from the castle for having tried to go to the basement. 

He can’t help but let his gaze drift towards the treasure room, where the secret mechanism he never found is. Where he could have obtained his…

Swatch gives his arm a sudden pull: nothing violent, just enough to take him out of his thoughts. It helps, since looking at the gentle bird towering over him reminds him of  how he got better, reminds him of why he is struggling so hard against the gritches, the noises and the voice. Why he decided to break his strings by sheer force of will.

He hates himself a little for thinking of his story as one of a tormented rogue being brought back to health and to the right path by a dashing gentleman. He feels more like describing him as a tamed racoon in clothes is more accurate, but since he’s trying to be kind to himself, he tries to see himself as the rogues from Swatch’s books.

He gets so lost in thoughts he only notices they are at the door leading to the throne room because Swatch kept him from walking nose-first into it. The butler smiles down to him, squeezing his little hand.

“I’ll do all the vouching for you. But don’t think you aren’t welcome to plead your case if she decides to be stubborn. I know she likes the way you speak.” Spamton nods in understanding. He thinks Queen likes his voice a little too much, as in he feels she’s considering it as a type of entertainment. But he can deal with that. 

The doors open and the two walk in side by side. Queen already seems displeased to see him but is quick to smile again as she addresses Swatch.

“What is it, dear? Do you like me so much you miss me on your day off? ” She asks with a laugh, her screen reading “LMAO” in bright red.

"Actually, Our Lady Grace, I have come to plead Spamton’s case. I have personally seen to his rehabilitation and think he deserves a chance to come back into the Mansion.”

Spamton suddenly stands up straight before bowing as deeply as he can before indenting the carpet with his nose like he did many months ago.

“Swatch, you know what he did was no joke.” Queen scolds, her tone suddenly terse. When Spamton stands back up, he can see she is no longer smiling. A shiver runs up his spine: he’s never seen her take anything seriously before. “After all, you’re the one who condemned the you-know-where. You said if someone were able to access the thingy in there that they could dethrone me.”

“I… I know, my Queen. I still think it should be accessed by no one. That’s why I am vouching for Spamton. You know my standards are exceedingly high. You see, I have kept him under lock and supervised him closely. I have found he was the victim of a scam, and that it gave him some type of virus, or corrupted him. But as I said, I have seen to his rehabilitation. I wish to further this rehabilitation effort. I think hard work at the café would do him good, my Lady. He will not leave my supervision of course.”

Queen slowly brings her glass of acid to her lip, squinting at the little puppet who tries his best to give her a confident smile. She takes a ridiculously long slurp before putting her now empty cup back on her armrest. Then she beams a huge smile.

“Why not? LMAO! I always liked this funny little guy. But he has to be leashed to you for the first like, month lol! And if he ends up going to the basement, you’ll have to take an acid bath. Deal?” She asks, extending a hand to Swatch as she brings her throne closer.

The butler looks nervous and it’s Spamton’s turn to give his wing a good squeeze. He will do it: he will resist the temptation still running through his veins and be a model citizen. He knows he can do it with Swatch at his side… and because he really, REALLY doesn’t want the poor bird to be soaked in acid. Swatch smiles at the look the puppet gives him. He seems confident, which makes the puppet’s heart jump in happiness.

Swatch lets go of Spamton to shake Queen’s hand with a pompous nod.

“Thank you, Queen. He will not disappoint.”

“Either way, it’s gonna be funny.”

The next day, Spamton feels weird in his uniform. Not because it doesn’t suit him: In fact, he thinks he looks like the most dashing little puppet in the world in it. Rather, it’s because it looks silly with the bright red dog harness he’s wearing on top of it. They tried hiding it under the suit,but it only looked worse. Swatch hooks one end of the matching leash to his back, the other hooked to the bird’s belt loop.

Him hiding in the trash is probably the only time he ever felt more like a gremlin than he does at the moment from being leashed. Swatch shoots him an apologetic look as they head to the café. Spamton feels a shiver crawl under his paint job as they pass the door leading to the treasure room. Thankfully, he’s not left to his own thoughts for long since the three swatchlings waiting in front of the café immediately start cooing and screaming of happiness at the small puppet, both because of his outfit and his leash. They fuss over him, not even noticing Swatch has opened the door and is waiting for them to come inside, one clapping, the other petting Spamton and the third cooing compliments at the little puppet.

“Swatchlings? I know Spamton looks absolutely dashing in his little uniform, but we have work to attend to.” The head butler explains. The three birds suddenly look embarrassed and chirp out apologies before hurrying inside. The head butler chuckles when he notices the proud expression on the puppet’s face. “Come now, Mr. Popular, I have some work for you too.” Swatch wags a feather at him before walking into the café, past the swatchling setting the tables and to the back of the counter. Spamton is surprised to find how much is stored behind there, the shelves brimming with cups, glasses, different types of sugar and a minifridge.

“You will start by helping Auburn. All you will have to do is help them make meatballs and buns. Come back and tell me how that went once you’re done.” Swatch confidently explains, ushering Spamtong to the kitchen as soon as he is done speaking, handing him his leash to bring to Auburn. The small puppet obeys, too surprised by the sudden order to think about the basement. He enters the kitchen, the complimenting swatchling for earlier happily cooing as they see him, delicately taking the leash from his hands to hook it to their own belt loop. They then pet Spamton and help him up a stool they set in front of the counter. There, a large bowl of seasoned ground meat and a large sheet of baking paper are set up.

“You’ll see, it’s simple, all I need you to do is make balls about that size for me. With your smooth cool hands, they can only be the best meatballs we’ll make yet!” The butler cheers, looking like they are keeping themselves from taking the small hands and theirs to coo at them. “Oh my, I almost forgot! Let’s wash first!” They instruct, taking Spamton by the waist and bringing him to the large sink to help him wash his hands. Once he is set back in front of his work station, Spamton gets to work. He’s clumsy at first, his arms still not used to their freedom, but he quickly gets into a rhythm, which is helped by the butler gently humming as they work by his side.

“Great job, Spamton! I would dare to say you are even better than I am at this.” the butler praises, making the small puppet blush. He always forgets how sweet those birds are and how much their kindness fulfills his need to be acknowledged.

“Oh hush! [[You Too Kind]], birdie! You’re still the one doing all the hard work!” Spamton gently teases as he makes another ball.

Due to the size of the bowl near him, it takes Spamton about an hour to get through it. Once he’s done, he takes the initiative to bring it to the sink and throw it in there before grabbing his stool and dragging it that way to wash it and his hands as well. The swatchling’s kindness makes him want to live up to his praise and be helpful.

As he’s drying the bowl with a towel, Auburn cleans the rest of Spamton’s station before placing baking sheets and a new, even bigger bowl by it. “You’ll like this one! You have to cut, knead then ball up the dough. I’ll show you how to start then I’ll keep an eye on you. Sounds good.”

“Cut, knead and ball? Hah! [[No. 1 Rated Salesman 1997]] will do that for you in no time!” He gloats, already feeling confident about the ball part. As they practice, he does find it to be the easy part after the cutting, but kneading proves to be much more of a challenge since he has to put all the force of his little body into it. By the time he is done, Spamton finds himself exhausted, panting as he leans onto the side of the counter. 

“Oh no! Someone needs a break!” The swatchling cooes affectionately, carefully picking Spamton up and placing him in the pocket of their apron. They appear delighted at the sight. Spamton wants to protest that they should ask for Swatch’s permission first, but his tiny body that never did a day of manual labour in his life drifts to sleep before he can do so.

Spamton wakes up with a start his body covered in even more sweat than it already was, ruining his lovely work uniform. He feels lost and confused as he sits up in the pocket, his heart beating a mile a minute. The phone… the phone was ringing and he missed the call. He heard it, he knew he heard it! It was his salvation! His only way to be free! He climbs out of the apron pocket and heads to the door, letting out a yelp as he feels a string restrain him: string… he hates strings more than anything! And this one is keeping him from...

“Spamton? Where are you going?” Auburn asks as they look at the puppet trying to leave his post. The small man feels startled at first, then becomes horrified as he feels like his brain is finally catching up with reality. It’s not even noon yet and he almost blew it! He was going to… he was going to… He grabs at his hair. What if he was able to sneak out? Swatch would be…

“Are you alright?” The swatchling asks as they approach Spamton, kneeling by his side to gently rub his back. He’s afraid to answer that he nearly did the one thing he promised not to do. Why is his brain broken like this? It’s not even as if he meant to betray his one true friend!

“Ah… sorry… I just had a nightmare and was [[Confused]].” He sheepishly admits, only to immediately receive a warm and feathery hug.

“It’s okay, I have nightmares too. Oh, would you like chamomile tea? It always soothes my nerves.” The swatchling kindly offers. Spamton doesn’t have the time to answer that the kitchen doors open on Swatch who is surprised to find his colleague on the floor, hugging the little puppet tenderly. Spamton thinks he sees a hint of jealousy in his eyes, but it disappears so fast he can’t tell if it’s just his imagination.

“I came in to see how things are going. Auburn, care to give me a review of Spamton’s work performance?” He asks, sounding a bit colder than usual. Spamton squints at him now wondering if he really saw some jealousy in his eyes. The swatchling gently puts Spamton on the ground before standing up to answer.

“Of course Swatch sir! He did a fantastic job. But kneading tuckered him out so I let him have a nap in my apron. Our poor friend Spamton had a nightmare, unfortunately.” The last sentence was said with affection as if the swatchling were talking about a cute pet.

“Is… that so.” Swatch replies, visibly relaxing. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re applying yourself to work, Spamton. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like you to come to the front with me. I’d like you to try a different task.”

Spamton nods and is about to follow Swatch out when the head butler simply sweeps him up instead, holding him against his chest. The small puppet lets out a nervous chuckle.

“No need to be jealous, [[Big Bird]], even if I liked them, Auburn is way out of my league.” Spamton laughs, becoming even more amused when Swatch blushes slightly and gives him a confused look. Then realisation crosses his face and he stops in his tracks to the ordering window. He clears his throats and regains his composure before talking.

“The swatchlings are like siblings to me. There is no way I could feel such a way towards them.”

“Eh? Why’d you get all flustered th-” Spamton’s question is cut short as he is placed on the counter.

“This is not a workplace appropriate question.” Swatch scolds as he smoothes out Spamton’s suit and his hair. “Now, I need you to call the orders. When a ticket comes in, you shout it to the kitchen and hand it to Azure. He’ll put them over the window. Keep an eye and make sure none of the tickets stays there longer than the others.” Swatch explains.

“That’s all?” Spamton asks, surprised.

“Yes, that is all you need to do. It’s an important job and you have the lungs for it. We need to make sure customers get their meals in time and the right orders.” Swatch explains further with a raised feather. Spamton beams and gives the bird a big nod.

“Count on me to shout and boss people around!” The little winks, his chest inflated. He takes the first ticket the server hands to him and turns around, excited to be shouting of his own volition again, just like when he was trying to attract people to his dealership. “AZURE! TABLE 3 NEEDS SPAG CODES WITH CHIP ENTRÉE! SWATCH, GET ON THE BUTT JUICE!”

Spamton’s throat feels pleasantly sore by the end of the day. He feels like a pretty big deal, ordering big buff birds around all day, even though he’s doing it while being leashed like a snappy chihuahua. He feels proud of himself after the swatchlings praised him for helping them stay organized and for his lung capacity. Swatch makes sure to scoop him up and tell him to help clean under the tables before his head can get too big.

Swatch has once again scooped him up against his chest as he is turning off the lights and locking up for the day. “I’m proud of you, Spamton. I can never get over how much energy you have.” The butler yawns at that: it’s true that he often looks tired by the end of the day. Spamton is only mildly sore now that he didn’t need to knead.

“Hey, I gotta have something going on for me!” Spamton jokes with a wink. “Outside of my [[charisma]], sense of humour, dashing looks, amazing voice...” He trails off, chuckling when Swatch rolls his eyes.

“Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t agree when you can’t even let another birdie hug me without getting jealous.”

Swatch sputters at the comment, his face turning crimson. Spamton erupts into laughter at that reaction. Now he understands why people like to push his buttons: it’s hilarious! But to his surprise, Swatch’s annoyed expression turns into an affectionate smile.

“I’m glad to see you in such a lively mood, Spamton.” This comment surprises the little puppet but doesn’t erase his grin.

“Who wouldn’t be after working with a bunch of handsome buff birds all day?” The little puppet jokes, surprised to hear Swatch chuckle at this.

“I’m glad you’re in such a good mood.” Swatch says affectionately before putting Spamton down by his kitchenette. “This means you won’t mind making us dinner, will you?” The bird asks with a smirk. He didn’t expect his little friend to be excited at receiving a chore, however. Spamton beams at him. In truth, he feels proud to see Swatch trust him more and more, to have his efforts rewarded. Sure, it was nice being served while he lived in his suite in the Mansion, to be constantly filmed, photographed and praised. Sure, he also had the friendship of the swatchlings, but he was missing something deeper, something more essential: fulfilment. 

He wasn’t the one responsible for his success. He wasn’t just following orders: he was barely in control of his own thoughts and actions at all. But now? Even if his work is humble and even if Swatch helped him greatly, he is still the one truly doing his job. And he was doing it well too! It makes him wonder if he was maybe just never meant for sales. Sure, he looks the most like an Addison and they treated him like one of theirs, but he still knows he’s still too different to truly be one. So maybe it’s okay for him to suck at sales and maybe it’s okay if he just becomes an employee at the most prestigious café in the city. 

He looks in the refrigerator and takes out some sliced ham, milk, butter, tomatoes, onions and cheese before getting to slicing some bread. In his time home alone, he had the time to read a lot of Swatch’s books. And when he got sick of being jealous of the handsome rogues in the bird’s romance novels, he took to reading cookbooks. The one on French cuisine had caught his eyes and he told himself he should try it: an oven sandwich doused with bechamel sauce that was called a croque-monsieur.

He starts on the sauce in a small pot before frying the ham in a pan, replacing it with the onions and tomatoes once it’s crispy while always stirring the sauce. Once everything is hot, he pours the sauce on thick slices of bread and piles ham, tomatoes and onions on top before grating the cheese. Once in the oven to roast, he quickly gets to making fried eggs.

By the time Swatch is out of the shower, the little puppet is setting up the table, pouring Swatch a generous glass of wine while giving himself a thimble.

“This smells heavenly!” Swatch praises, eyes wide in admiration at the meals Spamton has prepared for them: sure, the yolk of the eggs is a little overcooked and the bechamel is a little thin, but compared to how the poor little guy’s first attempts were, this is near perfect.

“Thank you! Nothing less for the [[Pretty Bird]]!” Spamton declares proudly as he pulls Swatch’s seat. The butler accepts it to play along, fighting his urge to help Spamton up his own seat when he watches him struggling to climb it up.

They eat in silence, enjoying the creamy meal for a few minutes before Swatch gathers the courage to speak up. “Spamton, I… there is something I have been meaning to ask you.”

The little puppet looks up, tilting his head curiously and hoping it wasn’t about the nightmare he had earlier in the day.

“Ever since yesterday, I couldn’t help but notice how happy I’ve been with you in my life. Despite the past weeks not being the easiest, I found myself thinking I wished I met you sooner.” The bird starts, making the little puppet blush at how heartfelt his words were. “And today… you were right. I felt misplaced jealousy when Auburn hugged you. And I may have been a little overprotective at the clothing store.” He sighs, annoyed with his inability to be more direct. “What I mean is that I think I have fallen for you, Spamton.” He admits with a gentle smile, which quickly turns into an amused one when he sees the little puppet’s eyes bulge out and his face turn deep red.

“WH- R-REALLY? THAT’S… THAT’S POSSIBLE?!” Spamton exclaims in shock, slamming his little hands on the table. “But… I’m not a [[Handsome Rogue]]...” The puppet shyly protests while wringing the tablecloth in his small hands, making the big bird laugh.

“Do not say such a thing! I believe you are.” Swatch winks teasingly.

“But I’m just a [[Long-Nosed Doll]], I’m not even a real Addison, I’m not tall or rugged or strong or-” Spamton’s nervous rambling is cut short when Swatch leans over to squeeze his shoulder.

“Spamton, you do not need to be those things. At first, I also wondered why I fell for you. Not because I found it hard to believe, but simply because I wanted it to be for the right reasons. I was afraid I only fell for you because you were the only person to have been close to me in a long time.” The bird explains, his wing moving up from the puppet’s shoulder to cup his long jaw. “While this comes into play, I believe there is much more to it. You are passionate, you are always trying your best and you are a caring person. You have never treated me or the swatchlings like your peons, but only as fellow darkners. And even if you haven’t always been honest or true to yourself, it was only because you thought that was how you could better yourself, but you learned that this is false of your own volition. That is what I love about handsome rogues, Spamton. I do not need to be swept off my feet: I just enjoy someone who isn’t conventional and who embraces it. Or learns to embrace it. So… if you will have me, I would gladly further our relationship.”

Spamton’s jaw would be hanging open if Swatch wasn’t cupping it. He can’t believe his ear holes: Swatch is attracted to him of all people! And it’s not a joke, because he knows Swatch wouldn’t prank him like that. He isn’t a cruel bird. Spamton nods, too awestruck to speak at first.

“I… WOWIE! I… YEAH! I WOULD LOVE TO!” He finally exclaims, jumping to his little feet and clutching Swatch’s wing in his hands. “It’s… it’s been so [[Long Long Time]] since I had a proper partner I... ” Spamton laughs nervously. “I’m glad it’s you.”

“Then it’s official, my dear.” Swatch smiles, leaning over his small table to rub his beak to Spamton’s long nose: the best way they can kiss as they both lack lips. Still, it’s enough to make Spamton swoon. The little puppet spends the rest of the evening feeling like he is in a good dream, remaining on Swatch’s heels the whole time and even being so bold as to climb on the bird’s chest when they get to bed.

“Swatch?” The little puppet calls, giving the big bird an enamoured smile when he casts his bespectacled gaze on him. “I love you.” He cooes, earning himself a big smile as a wing comes to rest on his back.

“I love you too, Spamton. Sweet dreams.” Swatch offers just as affectionately, giving Spamton a peck on the head before turning off the light. the small puppet closes his eyes, his body practically melting as he falls asleep to the loud and slow heartbeat of his brand new partner.

Somehow, Spamton wakes up with even more energy than he ever had, preparing breakfast while Swatch barely has the time to get out of bed and showering while the big bird is making himself look pretty in the mirror. He’s all dressed and even put on his leash and harness when Swatch is only putting on his shoes. They give each other another nose kiss as Swatch takes the leash and clips it to his belt loop.

“I wish I could be as motivated to go to work as you are, Spamton.” Swatch exclaims as they walk their way to the café.

“It’s hard not to be when you work with your [[Hunk of a Boyfriend]]!” The small puppet proudly announces, his voice loud as if he were hoping everyone in the castle would hear him. Swatch shakes his head but looks amused.

“Alright, alright. But let’s keep it professional in the café, you flirt.”

“Whatever you say, [[Dreamboat]].” Spamton teases, letting out a yelp when Swatch picks him without warning to pinch his cheek, keeping him in the crook of his wing as he unlocks the door, their coworkers cooing in admiration at the obvious new couple. Spamton is amused to find Swatch is blushing ever so slightly at the attention.

They prep similarly to the previous day, Spamton assisting Auburn in the kitchen at first, this time only asked to wash the utensils instead of kneading the dough and even trusted with cutting up fruits.

A swatchling has installed a nice-looking stepladder for him to climb to the ordering window on his own. The small puppet is ushered to take his break and it’s only when he is sitting on the toilet that he notices something: his leash is limply lying on the floor and no one else is in the bathroom with him… Swatch forgot to clip it to his belt loop.

The small puppet gathers the whole leash in his hands after finishing his business, staring at the clip ending it. He could leave. Since it’s his break and due to his small size, he could easily sneak out of the café. And then… he closes his eyes and shakes his head, refusing to acknowledge the thought trying to lodge itself in his brain. No, he’s not going to let it win. It’s just an intrusive thought: he doesn’t WANT to go to the basement anymore. He doesn’t need a promised heaven when he has his own: a place where he is appreciated, where someone deeply cares about him and who he cares deeply for back. With Swatch, he doesn’t feel small. When he was calling the orders yesterday and the swatchlings worked in harmony with him, he felt just as big as them, and not just because he was standing on the window.

Sure, some customers stared at him, but he gave them his best smile and they smiled back. He’s pretty sure he even made a couple of women giggle when he playfully winked at them. 

Not only that, but he feels freer than he ever has right now. His mind is mostly his own again, he’s doing something he’s good at and he isn’t forced to do it. Swatch has told him multiple times that he is free to leave and has only imposed his help on him when it was absolutely necessary. Of course, it made him panic at the time, but he understands why the kind bird did it: he wasn’t in his right mind. But now that his judgement has gotten better? Swatch didn’t impose his will on him. He even trusts him with his life. No one has ever shown the little puppet much trust before. This feels new and good. This feels like freedom. For the first time in forever, it feels good to be Spamton.

After washing his hands, the puppet returns to the dining area, leash in hand, and pulls on Swatch’s pant leg once he is done with the customers. The big bird gives him a warm smile when he sees the small puppet holding up the end of the leash to him. “Yah forgot something important, big guy.” Swatch seems amused but only gently takes the leash from Spamton’s much smaller hand.

“Thank you, Spamton. I knew I could trust you. Now to hope Our Lady Grace will soon understand this is a little… unnecessary.” The bird sighs.

“Knowing her, she thinks it’s [[Hilarious]] so I wouldn’t count on losing the leash anytime soon.” Spamton admits with a meek chuckle before returning to his station.

By the end of day, Swatch and Spamton find themselves being kept out of the kitchen and relegated to only cleaning the dining room. They hear suspiciously high pitched cooes from the kitchen and excited mumbling while they carry out their task. They are done and Swatch is about to tell the swatchlings to hurry so they can lock up when the trio of their coworkers come out of the kitchen, the other two preceding Auburn who enters ceremoniously holding a small but refined chocolate cake on which they drew Spamton’s and Swatch’s faces in white chocolate, separated by a heart made of raspberries at the center.

“Congratulations!” They announce, singing the word as they place the cake on the counter.

“I… I didn’t even announce anything!” Swatch says in disbelief, wings spread wide open.

“We heard Spamton practically shouting it this morning, boss.” Chartreuse chuckles.

“Plus, it was rather obvious.” Azure adds with a nod.

“I completely agree.”

“Me three!”

“THANK YOU THANK YOU [[Gentlemen]]!” Spamton happily shouts, clapping his little hands with incredible speed. Swatch seems to relax, or at least give up being annoyed when he sees the glee on the little puppet’s face. He seems happy to have cake and supportive friends, and his sincere grin is contagious. Swatch offers him a wing before picking him up so they can all sit at the counter to enjoy the treat. He gives Spamton a proud and amused smile as he watches him brag about how he is so charming Swatch just couldn’t resist him. 

Chapter Text

Spamton adjusts the badge on his shirt proudly one last time as Swatch opens the café front door. The small piece of golden engraved metal reads “Spamton, Manager”. While his main job is still to call out tickets and ensure orders are going out looking great, tasting great and at a good pace, Swatch quickly found out that his frenetic and loud voice was good at annoying bad customers to the point where they would leave of their own volition. And that also has the advantage of amusing everyone in the vicinity. a little puppet yelling [MODS: GET 'EM], [BANNED] and [BLOCKED] over unwanted clientele every time they try to protest is surprisingly effective.

Swatch and the swatchlings had offered Spamton to be 33rd co-owner of the Castletown café when they took over from the strange pastry chef, but the small puppet declined the kind offer. In one part because he has now accepted that he isn’t exactly talented as a businessman, but mostly because he assisted to a single board meeting and ended up so bored he fell asleep face first into his notes.

He takes a deep breath as he sits at one of the café’s table, drumming his little fingers nervously on the surface as he looks at the four empty seats around him. He pushed back his reunion with the Addisons constantly since Reach’s written apology, to the point that Cyber World had the time to move to and settle in Castletown before Swatch began bothering him about it. The big bird told Spamton it would be good for him to get it over with so he would stop being jumpy every time a blue, yellow, orange or pink Darkner enters the café. And so, his boyfriend helped him set up a reunion on his day off, the ex-butler handing the invitations to the Addisons himself.

The first to arrive is Rep, the Addison Spamton dreaded to see the least. The blue ad looks around the café in awe, their eyes widening as they spot Spamton sitting at a table. Their surprise turns into joy as they hurry towards their old friend. They look like they want to wrap their arms around Spamton but settle on keeping their hands at their waist and flexing them nervously.
“Spamton! I… oh my Queen I thought you… I’m so glad to see you doing well!” Rep stutters, which is very unlike their usually calm eloquence. Spamton smiles at them.
“Me too, pal. Take a seat.” Spamton offers with a smile, keeping his hands on the table to hide that they are trembling. Rep promptly sits down, their eyes glued on the little puppet as if he could disappear if they dare look away.

“I’m so sorry I cut contact with you. When I heard you were getting evicted from the Mansion, I rushed to your room. But when I arrived, you were already gone and I thought… I heard you had infuriated Queen so I assumed...” The blue Addison’s eyes filled with tears and Spamton felt his stomach twist in a knot at the idea that one of his old friends cares this much about his wellbeing. He had assumed by now that they used to keep him around because he made them feel good about themselves, but maybe he had judged them a little too harshly.
“It’s alright [[Ol’ Buddy Ol’ Pal]], Swatch kindly took me in.” The little puppet reassures, patting Rep’s hand. The Addison immediately takes his little hand in their own, which is when Spamton realizes his old friend is shaking as much as he is. It makes him chuckle at how much of a nervous mess they both are.

“Hey, don’t hog all the emotional moments for yourself, Rep. Jeez!” A yellow Addison shouts as he enters the café, a big smile on his face as he hurries over to the table and immediately starts tousling Spamton’s hair.
“Holy crap I missed you little guy! And you’re looking so handsome in your suit.” Trend laughs before sitting down, accidentally making his chair screech on the floor as he miscalculates his velocity. Spamton readjusts his hair with his free hand, trying not to sigh too loud and grateful he knows Trend enough to understand this is his way of trying to lighten the mood and make a good impression.

Reach and Promo enter together not a beat later, the first walking slightly in front and the pink Addison behind him with his hands shoved in his pockets to keep himself from fiddling with his ponytail. Reach gives the group a casual wave before taking a seat, Promo copying his movements with an awkward smile. “It’s nice to have everyone around the same table again.” Reach comments, folding his hands together. “I think we all have overdue apologies to extend to you, Spamton.” He adds, looking directly at the smallest of them.

There was a sad smile on the Addison’s face, probably because he took the time to notice how his old friend changed, for both the better and the worst. “I want to apologize for being a bad friend, Spamton. I became jealous of your success. You probably realize by now that we looked down on you, so when you became successful, we felt like you didn’t deserve it instead of being happy for you. That’s not okay.”

Spamton looks down at his stubby fingers at the admission, smiling when a swatchling brings him a glass of butler juice, mumbling a small “thanks” as he takes the time to digest what he was just told. “I was acting like an obnoxious prick, so I understand.” He mumbles, not knowing what else to say since a part of him is worried about choosing the wrong words and losing his friends again.

“Oh come on!” Promo, the pink Addison, finally speaks up. “You weren’t any worse to us than we had been to you! We should have been there for you.” Pink states. “Or at least have looked harder for you after Rep told us you were evicted.” their tone didn’t leave room for argument, only making Spamton’s face red.
“I guess so… but I was [[okee-dokey]], I had Swatch take me in afterwards, and now I manage [[Best Café in Town]]!” Spamton replies with a smile that is only slightly forced.
“You’re allowed to be mad at us, Spam.” Reach sighs. Spamton laughs one of his overly loud and forced laughs.
“But I’m not!”
“Drop it, guys.” Trend intervenes, brows knitted and smile tight.

Promo grits his teeth before crossing his arms over their chest. “Alright, FINE… Clearly Spam doesn’t have any emotions or feelings so there's no point pushing it.” The Addison challenges while keeping intense eye contact with the smaller ad.

Spamton jumps to his feet, feeling as if he was a champagne bottle and this was the final push to blow his cork off. “OKAY, FINE! YOU WANT TO HEAR IT?!” He asks, slamming his little palm on the table. “I AM MAD!” Spamton admits, surprising all of them except Promo, who seems vindicated rather than startled. “I’m mad at myself for [Friend Request Accepted] again. I’m mad you didn’t notice.. or… or didn’t care I needed [[F1 for Help]]. I’m mad you weren’t proud of me when I [[Make It Big!]]!!1! I’m mad I wanted you to be proud of me!” Spamton looks like he wants to say more but stops himself as his vision is swimming. He never had anyone aside from the Addisons before It came into his life and it was terrifying to feel completely alone when he moved into the mansion. In a way, they were his family, so a part of him always deeply needed their love.

“We had it coming, huh?” Trend nervously chuckles, his yellow cheeks flushed orange at Spamton’s admission.
“Thank you for being honest with us.” Reach adds with a nod.

A heavy silence weighs over the group until Rep talks again. “May we have a second chance? I miss you, Spamton and I want to have the chance to be a real friend to you.” The small puppet looks up and his tears spill at the sincerity in his old friend’s expression.

Rep opens their arms and Spamton accepts the gesture, leaning in for the hug and wrapping his short arms around them to the best of his ability. The others join in and Spamton can hear nearby swatchlings coo in adoration. One by one, the ads let go of Spamton and they share a moment of silence as they all recover emotionally. Reach Is the first to break the silence. “I think we owe you all apologies… when you're ready, I'd like to meet one on one and actually be there for you.” The others nod.
“I'd like to do that as well.” Rep agrees.
“I’m not that eloquent, but me too.” Trend smiles softly.
“What they all said.” Promo adds, trying to act aloof despite their voice sounding tight.
“I… think I'd like that.” Spamton nods as well.

He still has a lot of feelings to work through when it comes to his Addison friends, but he still wants to give them another chance. They're all older now, more mature, maybe more considerate. And despite everything, he still cares about them and still wants them to care about him. The conversation turns to be about what everyone is doing now that they are moved in Castletown and the evening continues smoothly, reassuring Spamton that maybe, truly, he will be okay. No: that he, Swatch and his friends will be okay, together.