Work Text:
“… LiGhTNe R?”
Placing down the cup on the table in front of the sofa, you turn and face Spamton, who is sitting next to you, wrapped up in a woollen blanket.
You smile, sitting back on the fabric of the seat, “Yeah?”
Spamton looks away for a second, down at the table, picking up his own cup of tea, taking a small sip from it, “Do we... Have any [[Half Price Art Equipment]]?”
There’s a small pause as you lean forward, thinking, looking back at him after a few seconds, “Give me a minute, I think I have some upstairs.” You stand, walking around the sofa and head upstairs to your own bedroom, Spamton watching intently as you do, as he takes another sip of his cup.
Upstairs, you scramble to open several pencil-cases full of sharpies, pencils, sharpeners, and so many more art supplies that used to aid you during your education, with the occasional gel pen being brought out. With all these art supplies packed together, some would’ve thought you’d bought out an entire arts and crafts store, but you can never have too many art supplies, right?
After sifting through the box’s contents, piling together a good number of working sharpies and enough plain paper, you shuffle back downstairs to Spamton, who is now peering over the back cushion of the seat as you walk back around to the sofa and place the box onto the floor between the both of you.
“There,” another pause as you wheeze out, gesturing to the items inside the container to him.
He leans down, the blanket over his shoulder shifting off him slightly as he reaches down and holds up a darker pink sharpie, likely checking that the colour was the right shade.
“Be careful though, they don’t wash out straight away, haha,” you chuckle nervously, knowing and remembering from experience of drawing onto your own hands during classes and then immediately regretting it when it didn’t wash off later on.
Without even a second thought, he snatches one of the pieces of paper, and begins to carefully draw onto it, occasionally sticking his tongue out slightly when he drew straighter lines. You try to peer over his shoulder, leaning over to see if you can get a better look at what he’s drawing, but he leans forward more and more with every attempt, “NO [[Peeping Toms]], I WILL TELL YOU WHEN IT’S [[100% Guaranteed!]]” he glances back down and continues with what he was doing as you recline against the cushion, waiting as you take a sip out of your cup.
You wait about five minutes or so, when Spamton breaks you out of your relaxed state by tapping your arm to pass you the paper from before. Opening it, you see a very crudely draw figure that... Looks like his old NEO form but with some alterations? Said design seems to mimic the kind of clothing you’d see being worn by a 90s radio host, with a white shirt being overlayed by a black jacket, and matching half-tone pink and yellow slacks.
Glancing back at Spamton after looking over the drawing, he is leant down again, sketching over another piece. From what you can peer over and see, it’s the same design, but holding a doodle of you in its arms, “Is this... What you want to look like, Spammy?” he looks up at you, now with a grin over his face, “YeAH! I CALL IT MY [[SPECIL]] SPAMToN EX FORM.”
You look back down at the drawing in your hands, and smile back at him, “It definitely suits you, Spam, but I have a small addition, if you’ll let me?”
He nods enthusiastically and leans over to spectate as you grab one of the pencils and sketch the jacket into a more tailcoat look. Spamton’s eyes light up and he lets out a cackle in excitement, snatching the paper after you finish and holding it up, “YES YES! I LOOK [[Runway Fashion!]], THANK YOU FOR THE [[GENERIS]] ADDITION.”
Without another word, he shuffles over, huddling himself under your arm as he grabs another paper, and begins another drawing as you grab his blanket and wrap it around the two of you.
Maybe you could commission an engineer to surprise him later on.