Chapter Text
Oh how the mighty have fallen. This was a thought Spamton had considered countless times even in his own jumbled head. He had been living it up as a King; he had a room in the Queen's mansion, had a booming business--overall he was comfortable and happy. Well, for the most part. He was happy right up until the end.
He tried to kick those final few months under the rug; remembering did little to benefit him. Honestly, forgetting was much, much easier.
Now? Now he had made his home in a God damn garbage can. And yet, somehow, that still seemed favorable to living in the city.
The salesman had no money; what little he had left had gone towards room and board and even that dried up. He couldn't afford any place in the city, nor had he ever particularly been successful there anyhow. And as for friends?
There was no one he could rely on. Not without stomping out what very little pride he had left. That was an option he refused to take.
But the garbage dump wasn't all that bad. He had a place all to himself and, hey, he'd even the resources to open up his own shop so, really, who was losing here? Sure, he hadn't entirely felt like himself lately and, okay, maybe his dip in acid hadn't left him in the best state (physically or mentally) but it still beat having to deal with his brothers.
Who, Spamton had noticed, were showing up more and more as of late.
What the hell they were doing hanging around the garbage dump was beyond him; they shied away from even taking out the trash let alone hanging around a place such as this. Not only was it disingenuous to their sensitive tastes, but it was getting really damn annoying having to duck and cover all the time.
It had been even more egregious when they showed up to his store. Thankfully he had ample time to hide, but hell, he wasn't as spry as he once was!
Quite frankly, the invasions of his space were beginning to wear him thin.
He wasn't even sure what the hell they were looking for; they had all but disowned him some time ago. Not to mention they were accustomed to a particular lifestyle. Hanging around these parts simply wasn't their MO. This was especially so when considering their eldest brother, Addis. He was Mr. Prim and Proper. Never in his life had he expected to catch a glimpse of the pink annoyance skulking about the garbage dump. Thankfully, it had only been on two occasions; once on his own and the second when he and Sonny had breached the threshold of his shop.
Although that had occurred a few days prior, Spamton still couldn't clear the thought from his head. Upon finding the shop absent they had not immediately departed, as one typically would when entering an empty store. Instead, they lingered, mumbled a few hushed words Spamton couldn't make out (the hammering of his heart against his chest would do that). After a defeated sigh, they departed, and the small salesman clattered to the floor from his vaulted position beneath the desk.
This was the memory that plagued his thoughts as he lounged about in his dumpster-for-one, attempting to fall asleep. He should have just locked it away, buried it in the past. He was particularly skilled at doing exactly that. And yet, the memory was one he couldn't repress. Perhaps it was out of anger (or hurt, but oh, that was much too much to actually admit). The fact they had all but abandoned him, had not a thing to do with him until after his fall from grace--that infuriated him. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction so long as he could help it.
With that newfound resolution he flipped onto his back and yanked his dingy blanket up to his chin.
It was promptly kicked off him with a growl.
Ugh! He was uncomfortable. It was too hot, ironically enough considering it was fall in the Cyber City and right about now a cold snap had taken hold. The lack of blanket at least alleviated the heat to some degree, though he still was left unsatisfied. Again he closed his eyes, and still sleep evaded him.
A tap on the dumpster lid jolted him.
Spamton lay in silence for a moment, then two. Another tap. He haphazardly threw his glasses onto his face before the lid swung open.
"WELL, [ all alone on a Friday night?]! YOU'RE [ out past curfew ] MY FINE FRIEND! BUT [ great deals ] WAIT FOR NO--
SONNY
SONNY
SONNY--"
"Spamton."
He'd proceeded with his jargon before even managing to get a look at the 'potential client' he'd assumed was knocking on the lid of his home. Spamton, at first, found himself frozen. He only moved to adjust his glasses so that he could get a better look at the blue Addison standing before him. He quickly recovered, switched his tactic.
"SO, DO THE OTHER [ backstabbers ] KNOW YOU'RE NOT BUYING FROM THEM?"
"I'm not here to buy anything from you, Spamton."
"WELL, I'M RUNNING A [ high-class establishment ] HERE! IF YOU'RE NOT BUYING THEN--"
"Spamton!"
They both fell silent. Sonny was the first to break, forcing a sigh.
"A dumpster? You've been living in a dumpster?"
"I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW IT'S A [ high quality ] HOME!"
"It's not a home, Spamton, it's a trash dump!"
"YET IT STILL FEELS LIKE THE [ smart shopper ] OPTION."
The blue Addison's jaw clenched at that comment.
"You have a home, Spamton--you have several homes you could have come to."
"DID I?"
He was brazen with that question, and rightfully so. Sonny had no immediate response. Their abandonment of him--they had absolutely no leg to stand on. But this was his attempt to right that wrong.
"ANYWAY, I WAS TRYING TO [ sleep on it ] BEFORE YOU SO RUDELY INTERRUPTED ME, SO IF YOU DON'T MIND--"
"Spamton, I want you to come back to the city with me."
Silence again. They stared, caught in another stalemate. It ended when Spamton unceremoniously slid back into the dumpster and slammed the lid behind him.
"Spamton!"
"NO ONE IS HOME!"
"I was just talking to you!" The older Addison immediately grabbed at the lid and attempted to pry it back open, slightly discouraged at how strong the other was.
"Spamton, just listen to some reason, here, you can't keep living in a garbage can!"
"WHY? I'VE MADE IT THIS LONG!"
"That doesn't make it okay!"
"[ No hablo Español. ]"
"We're not--ugh, Spamton, just get back out here! Come on, don't make this harder than it needs to be!"
This time he received no reply, though the grip on the lid remained just as strong.
"Look, Spamton, I didn't want to have to threaten this but if you don't come with me then I'll go and get Addis and I don't think--"
A gasp escaped the Addison who nearly fell into the dumpster with the force of which he yanked the lid open. Apparently the threat had been enough to cause the smaller man to release his grip.
"DO NOT INVOLVE THAT [ overrated salesman ] IN MY BUSINESS."
"I won't if you get out of the dumpster and come back with me. No one has to know where you are."
Spamton seemed hesitant. He wasn't sure what was worse; risking being seen in the city, and by proxy, doing what his backstabbing brother wanted from him, or waiting around for his even more insufferable eldest brother to come find him.
The ladder, most assuredly the ladder.
After some irritated grumbles the salesman finally complied and hoisted himself out of the garbage. The landing was unsteady, and within moments the blue Addison was steadying the smaller man. He pushed the hands away near instantly, though the damage had already been done.
He grimaced in reply.
"Jeez, Spamton, you're burning up."
"I'VE ALWAYS [ run warm ]."
His eyes narrowed, but Sonny refrained from commenting. One problem at a time; that's all he could tackle. Getting him out of the dumpster was monumental enough.
A hand was placed between the younger man's shoulder blades; at the very least it gave Sonny a grip on him if he decided to try anything funny during their trip back to the city. It was obvious Spamton was displeased with the hold on him, though there was little he could do but squirm. Sonny considered it to be a reasonable move, even if one party was displeased. Spamton struck him as particularly flighty; he wouldn't have been surprised to see him make a sudden break.
Thankfully, he'd managed to keep him calm and there were no prison breaks on the way to his home. Sonny was, however, displeased that he could feel just how thin his brother was beneath his clothing. They were bulky, sure, but he could still feel the outline of his spine against his palm.
Spamton was led around the back of his shoe store and up the stairs where the door to his apartment was unlocked and the man was escorted inside. The door was promptly relocked. Safety precaution. At the very least it would slow him down.
The smaller salesman glanced about the apartment, stood awkwardly beside the doorway. It would have been a lie to say it didn't pull at Sonny's heart. Spamton had been here countless times before and yet now he refused to even budge from the doorway.
"There's no one else here, Spamton. It's just us. You can look around if you don't believe me."
That seemed to be the issue. Slowly, carefully, he removed himself from the door and began checking out the place. Meanwhile, the blue Addison took to the bathroom.
"Spamton!"
Surprisingly, he came at the call. Jeez, he hadn't assumed threatening to get Addis was as powerful a move as it proved to be.
"When's the last time you were able to take a hot shower? Why don't you wash up and I can get you something to wear."
It was more of a command rather than a suggestion and, in his current position, Spamton wasn't one to argue. He was now in foreign lands with the threat of persecution constantly looming over his head once more. Regardless, he grumbled beneath his breath before slamming the door shut beind him.
What was most irritating was that he really did want to take a shower, though a hot one was debatable. He swore he was burning beneath his skin. And besides, he relished the alone time he'd been granted. Not that he wasn't constantly alone, anyway.
As he unbuttoned his blazer, his mind churned. He just couldn't pick apart the motive here. So far there had been no blatant disrespect; no jabs or sneers as he would have expected. No snide remarks. Unless this was the build up, he thought as he stepped under the cool water. A hum subconsciously escaped the back of his throat in response to the water hitting his scorched skin.
He wasn't sure how long a haul they would commit to in order to make Spamton look the fool again but he still wasn't discrediting it. Getting kicked while he was down was a constant in his life and he couldn't see this ending any other way.
Though, he'd take advantage of the hospitality for the time being.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Hey, I'm leaving some clothes outside the door for you. I'll wash yours when you're done."
Spamton had to admit; it was most certainly nice no longer being dressed in sweat covered, garbage filth clothing. Though, when the door had been pulled open and he caught sight of the clothing, he found his teeth grind.
His clothes had been ditched outside the door, meanwhile he gripped a pair of green pants in his hands.
"WHAT THE [ fifty percent off ]."
Had they been in his house? And the V-neck--he hadn't seen that old thing in what felt like ages. While it was the last possible thing he'd ever want to wear again it was currently the only piece of clothing he had and so, begrudgingly, the shirt was pulled over his head.
When Spamton exited the bathroom it was with a scowl plastered upon his face. Sure, the glasses and hair offset it to some extent, but it still did nothing to satisfy him. His discomfort was near instantly recognized by the elder, who shared the frown.
"I'm sorry, Spamton, it's all I have that would fit you. I already threw your clothes in the wash so I will have them out for you as soon as they are done."
Sonny shifted uncomfortably; Spamton hardly seemed satisfied.
"Hey, while you were in the shower I made you something to eat. I didn't have anything great but I figured you'd like a sandwich at least. Uh and I had some tea left from--"
"SURE, I CAN GO FOR [ a bite to eat ]."
Sonny nearly heaved a sigh of relief, especially so considering Spamton had taken it upon himself to move towards the kitchen. It wasn't as if he wasn't familiar with the place. He'd spent enough nights here in the past.
It disturbed the Addison just how quickly the other devoured the meal. It was a concerning thought but it was one that lingered nonetheless; he could only imagine the last time Spamton--his brother, had something to eat, something substantial that wasn't waste.
"Do you want--"
"I'M FINE!"
Of course he was. He was always fine. Even back then.
"ANYWAY, LIKE I SAID BEFORE, I WAS TRYING TO [ hit the hay ] AND SO IF YOU DON'T MIND--"
"Oh right--of course. I'm sorry."
He looked exhausted. Beyond physically. This Spamton was--he was so unbelievably different. It tore his heart to shreds. Even when tired and beaten down, there was always a sort of plucky optimism their brother held which was incredibly endearing. Now? Now it was forced. Almost painful. He wasn't sure what all had happened, and quite frankly, he had no right to ask. But, dammit, at the very least he could be there for him now.
"You can take the couch, I--unless you want the bed. I can always sleep out here."
He hadn't needed to continue on, as it took mere seconds for Spamton to throw himself onto the couch. Arms crossed behind his head, and one leg swung up and over the other to promptly cross them.
"I'M [ a-ok ] RIGHT HERE! THIS IS [ comfort ] ENOUGH!"
Sonny released a half hearted sigh. He disappeared momentarily in order to retrieve a pillow and blanket for him. The pillow was thrown against the arm of the couch, and the blanket was placed beside it.
"Is there anything else you need?"
"NO, I AM [ 100% satisfaction ]."
Sonny nodded, and his arms crossed awkwardly over his chest.
"Alright. I'm going to head to bed myself, then. Good night, Spamton."
"[ Sweet dreams ]!"
Sonny reached his bedroom door, paused a moment.
"Spamton? I'm glad I found you. I--really missed you."
He left the conversation there before closing the door behind him.
Sonny was patient. His stalking the alley ways on his desperate manhunt proved that much. He'd hunkered down, grabbed a book and waited. He waited about an hour before re-emerging from his room, that was only after he'd pressed an ear against the door and strained to hear.
When he'd entered the living area, he was pleased to see Spamton splayed out on the couch, the blanket kicked around his feet. A thin sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin and Sonny frowned in response. Slowly, carefully, he approached the couch, and a hand very gently brushed against his forehead.
There was no doubt he was burning up. He wasn't sure what was causing the fever, but it most certainly was not heartening.
A flash of red caught his attention. Poking out from behind his shirt was a small splotch of red. He knew this was pushing it, but his index and middle finger clamped down on either side of the fabric and carefully pulled it up to get a glance at whatever was underneath.
Sonny cringed in response.
Lifting the shirt led him to the source of irritation; a nasty burn on his chest. Granted, the burn itself wasn't terribly large, though it did not look particularly good. Potentially the cause of the fever. He allowed the fabric to drop and quickly removed himself from the room.
One thing at a time; he kept that phrase on repeat in his mind. Meanwhile his gaze fell solely on the phone within the kitchen.
They had a right to know. Hell, it hadn't just been Sonny looking for him. But--
Dammit. No. Spamton already had no trust left in him; calling anyone now would have only furthered the impossible rift between them. Tonight he'd let it slide but tomorrow morning the others would be notified. Besides, they'd already be questioning when Sonny didn't show up for work (there was no way in hell he was leaving Spamton alone).
For right now he resolved to heave a sigh and begrudgingly returned to his room. Although uneasy, he'd managed to lull himself into a light slumber.
He only awoke when his alarm clock began blaring. Sonny slapped the snooze button and groaned into his pillow. It took a few moments for him to recall the events that transpired the night before.
It was then he shot up like a cork. Then near instantly sat back down. He needed to keep himself level headed. Spamton would be on guard, and he knew he would notice his own odd behavior.
With a new resolve, he picked himself up and exited his room.
"'Morning Spam--"
Empty. No Spamton on the couch. However, the blanket and pillow were notably missing.
"Huh."
His next thought was to check the bathroom, though, he found his heart rate suddenly skyrocketing.
Door open. No Spamton.
He shot towards the kitchen. Empty. In a blind panic he'd yanked open the doors blocking the washing machine, only to find the green pants and v-neck tossed haphazardly inside. The other items were missing.
"Dammit! Spamton!"
Just as he skid past the fridge for the second time he came to a skirting halt. A note had been sloppily written and slapped onto the fridge, held in place by a single magnet.
'THANKS FOR THE NEW PILLOW AND BLANKET! IOU!
-SPAMTON G. SPAMTON'
Sonny stared, his mouth hung slightly agape. It was then his fists clenched and he swore he felt his lip quiver.
"SPAMTON!"