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He was used to all-nighters, of course. Sort of a part of the job, in his opinion. Not that Tenna ever paid overtime for extra hours mind you, although receiving a third of a Mike sized paycheck alongside his usual one made up the difference. (The bonus used to be bigger, due to the fact it didn’t used to be split between three parties. He preferred retaining a semblance of sanity over measly extra points. The company was nice too, not like he'd ever admit it.)
No, with Battat’s overloaded schedule, and the majority of his free time designated for Mike Theorizing, sleep seemed like an unneeded luxury. Handful of hours, just to tide him over. He didn’t know what to make of it when his lack of sleep started letting him see things.
Lack of sleep was the only difference, he was pretty sure? Could have been the extra cups of coffee, but those weren’t outside the range of his ordinary intake. Whatever the cause, he was starting to see something… peculiar. Not the corner of your eye shadows that you blink away, but something tangible and interactive.
Almost every single one of his coworkers were tangled in the red string of his conspiracy boards. He knew it had to mean something, but he wasn’t sure what yet.
The other two substitute Mikes were connected to him, obviously. Crimson colored yarn fluttering around Pluey’s costumed wrists, connected at his outmost claws, the same strands circling Jongler’s thumbs. It had to mean something, but WHAT?? Had they incriminated themselves by taking on the Mike mantle? He'd have to find another spare whiteboard, or maybe just a corkboard with images to catalogue all the new connections.
Mr. Ant Tenna, as usual, was so much of a mess, it was hard to see just how many connections he had. Battat couldn’t make heads or tails on where any of those strands ended. He’d tried to follow the trail on several occasions, but it was hard to keep track of which thread was which when too many converged in one place. So any of them could lead to the real Mike, or one of Mike’s connections. One shone a less vibrant red, frayed around the edges. Did that mean that particular connection was weaker? But Mike had to be important to Tenna, or why else would he care so much?!
Both Elnina and Lanino were connected to one another, with a third unknown party. Probably someone outside of the studio, maybe outside of TV World entirely. Before this breakthrough, he hadn’t even considered the Weather Duo to be in on it!!
A random Pippins and Zapper who seemed attached at the hip were connected to each other too, but only each other, without a third.
And then there were some without connections at all!!! Ramb was always too suspicious of the Mikes. The Plugboy had made no attempt to hide a knowing smile, whenever he assumably recognized one of them out of costume. But HE didn’t seem to have a single strand! Sometimes, if he watched those small hands pour drinks without blinking, he saw a tiny flash of red? So faint, it was hard to trace. So what did that mean??
“Hey, boss? Did we’s always have two of dose boards?”
He didn’t even heard Jongler enter the office. Why were they there? He was pretty sure it was Pluey’s shift until… well, who cares! They knew what they were doing. He didn’t turn to greet them. He had to get to the bottom of this. (He had more than the two boards, obviously! What did they take him for, an amateur??? But he kept those back at his place.)
“Cmon, pal. You gotta take a break sometime. How long’s it been?” Jongler rested a glove on his shoulder, and the flash of red caught the Pippin’s eye again. He gnawed at the plastic points of his claws, felt his fingers twitch, watched for the way the strand around their thumb jittered in response.
“Can’t.” Not now, when he’s onto something…
Jongler turned back and forth, between the boards and himself, with what Battat could only assume was growing confusion. Focus, focus!!! He was the only one who could do this, run everything through a fine-tooth comb, find all the split ends.
“Why don’t you’s sit down and explain it? Sort of… forgot how dis all goes.” They jerked a thumb in the direction of their shabby communal couch. That did sound like a half decent idea, getting a second opinion, even if they couldn’t understand it all. It's not like he could wrap his head around everything on a good day. He made sure the outside door was secured and locked, sliding the cat statue into place for extra security, before turning back to the Zapper.
“You’d— you’d really wanna hear about it? Again??”
Jongler fiddled with their gloves, head tilted towards the floor. “Uhh… yea. Course. Anytime, boss. Like hearing ya talk.”
Battat didn’t know how to stop talking. It’s what set him apart from the other Mikes, and the other Pippins as well. And of course, it didn’t matter to him who listened! AT ALL! He tried to tune out the weird, warm fuzziness spreading through his chest at their earnest response.
“Fine, fine— but you better listen good this time!” He jumped right in, covering ground he’d already explained before. All the facts they knew about Real Mike, who he was connected to, speculations of why and how he left, where he could be now, timeline of the known events. Battat found himself rushing through the basics to get to the new developments.
“So lemme get dis straight,” They interjected, bringing his rampant explanations to a halt. Was he imagining things, or was Jongler’s face a bit more red than usual?
“You ain’t sleepin’ much. And dat’s got you seeing red threads? Connecting darkeners? I gots dat right?”
“Yessiree,” and oh, he hated that Mike-isms were bleeding into everyday vocabulary.
“And… dere’s threads connecting me and yous?”
“PLUEY TOO! Don’t forget about them!!!” They always managed to, even if the Shadowguy was purring, snuggled comfortably in their lap...
“Yea, of course… I could be wrong. But don’ts think dat’s got anything to do with da whole… Mike thing.”
“Of course it does, idiot!” Battat snarled back, noting the way they didn’t flinch at the insult anymore. “What else would it be about?”
“Uh,” Jongler shuffled in their place on the couch, one hand rising to scratch a spot on the back of their head.
“Cmon, out with it! You know something, why won’t you spill?” His hands twitched, wanting to grab them by the cuff and make them spit it out. Something about that mental image made his head feel funny.
“Well… it’s an old Lightner story, don’ts knows if it’s got merits.”
”Aren’t we based on Lightner’s perceptions?! If anyone’s stupid stories matter, it’s theirs!”
“Point taken, but…”
This tactic wasn’t working. He rushed to brush the itch from his eyelids, considering his options. If he knew Jongler, any openings in the conversation would eventually lead down a particular path. Something like “You ain’t the only one who needs to figures this out.” Or maybe “Ain’t good to overwork yourself.” Which meant the safest option was to extricate himself from the conversation entirely, get back to busywork, and hope against hope they’d give up the answers another day.
Before he could even move an inch, there was an arm around his shoulders, pressing him firmly to the couch. He thrashed against the grip but, no dice. “How’s about. You take a nap here-“
“No, I’M Mike next after Pluey—“
“I takes next Mike shift. If ya still see dose strings when ya wake up. I’ll tell ya bout my hunch.”
He tried to push himself away, but his limbs refused to cooperate at full force. Foul play on their part, bartering sleep for information. Did he have any metaphorical chips left to bet with? Could always claw or bite, but for some reason? That felt a step too far. Maybe it was because it was Jongler, or far more likely- he’d be the one smoothing out any dents he made!!
“Don’t need sleep, need answers. Too wired to fall asleep, anyways…” the response fell flat, even to his ears. Was he really that exhausted, that Battat couldn’t come up with a better counterargument?? The couch did seem soft beneath him, at the moment, and the feeling of being trapped in a half hug, half stronghold was a strangely pleasant sensation. He felt his focus slipping through his hands like a bad stack of cards, and knew it was too late.
“Make sure… Pluey eats something when he… gets back.”
“Ya gots it, boss.”
The last things he processed before sleep overtook him was Jongler’s rumbly chuckles, at a lower volume than usual, and something soft being wrapped around his shoulders. At least, he thought, Pluey wouldn’t go hungry. Always got a little prickly whenever it…
★
Awareness drifted in slowly, in fragments. Trademark greenroom stars shifted on the ceiling, a stubborn soreness at the base of his spine, a weight at the end of wherever he slept, pressed against his leg. Quiet saxophone trills, akin to purring. Pluey, in his bed…? Battat bolted upright, pushing away the blanket pulled around him. No, this was not his shitty mattress, just the Mike couch. Wasn’t abnormal to find Pluey here, curled up in a ball, stubbornly still in costume. The guy seemed to adore the thing, at least one of them did.
(Why did the notion of Pluey snuggled up in his bed not alarm him as much as it should? Why couldn’t he stop himself from imagining it??)
That didn’t matter right now, he reprimanded himself. He blinked hard, double checking their wrists.
The yarn was still there. Maybe being able to see them was a permanent change, unrelated to lack of rest? He felt fine now, better than he had… for a while. Not fully rested, but he wasn't going to collapse or anything. Maybe Jongler was right, not that he’d ever say that to their face of course!! And not like it would really keep him from staying awake, when he had a million other things to do.
(Maybe if they asked him again, with that low, gentle voice of theirs. Maybe if they were his bed, too—)
WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS HE THINKING. ABOUT HIS COWORKERS!!!!! Angels above, could he tell up from down anymore!? He grimaced around his growing headache, moving off the couch to search for the pain reliever he knew was stored somewhere.
Must have moved too suddenly, because Pluey was blinking pink and yellow eyes in his direction, stifling a yawn behind mike paws. Only in looking their way did he notice the bottle he was looking for. Under the couch! Really needed to reorganize, at some point.
“Hey. How’d it go?”
The Shadowguy reluctantly removed their gloves, placing them on the couch. Maybe Battat should be thinking about redesigning those, so it could sign a bit easier in costume. But they split their roles like they split their points. Would that still make him the Mike who listens? Pluey seemed to like the paws, that should be accounted for as well. Was real Mike the sort of guy to use sign language? Would Tenna even recognize sign language?? He might have picked some up by seeing it used in the the Dreemurr household—
Good, they signed. Oh right, he asked a question, tabling that line of thought for another time. Pluey pointed to an unnoticed plastic cup on the nearby table. Drink! (He knew that one needed an exclamation point, with the fervor in his motion.)
“Thanks, that's real thoughtful of you." Battat drained the whole thing, grateful for something to help the pills go down smoothly.
“:]” He followed the motion of its hands, right hand to chin, then brought palm up in front of his chest, a little like the motion of blowing a kiss- that was Thank you, he knew. (The first time he’d seen Pluey do that one, he had NOT gotten unbearably flustered, and he’d thank any witnesses for not bringing that up.)
“For what?”
Reminder, oh yeah the food reminder. He’d had to thank Jongler later for passing on the message.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.”
They signed the letter J on it‘s own, that’s how they’d decided to refer to Jongler, then a few rapid signs he couldn’t parse the meaning of.
“Run that by me again? Didn’t quite catch that last part.” He really needed to brush up on his basics, but him and what time?
Pluey nodded, and switched to finger signing. That was a little easier to follow, T-h-r-e-a-d, ending with pointing at itself. Me.
“They mentioned that to you? That’s right, you’ve got two.”
“!!! :-D” That got them off the couch immediately, dancing to a jazz number only they could hear. He acted just like a cat, all excited for some yarn he couldn’t even see! Battat watched one string get hooked several times around the crook of their swinging tail. And that wouldn’t do at all.
“Wait a tick,” He rushed forward, taking hold of one of its wrists to stop the motion, and unwinding the yarn from the offending tail. “Wouldn’t want you getting tangled up and falling, the last thing we need now's an accident.”
It was hard, with Pluey’s pulse-like vibrato at his finger points, to ignore the energy between both of them. Between all three of them come to think of it, whenever they shared space together. It was harder to pull away, too, but Battat could manage that! At the very least!
With both hands free, Pluey pressed both to his head in a silly bonking motion, followed up by another, Thank you.
“What’d I say about not mentioning it?! Aw hell, what time is it… Definitely late for something…”
Jongler must have taken that as their entrance cue, shambling past security cat statues, cowboy hat in hand. “Are dose my favorite liddle guys?”
“Look what the cat dragged in, eh?” He couldn’t help himself, leaning forward to give Pluey headpats. It responded by leaning into the touch, only to pout when he pulled away. Jongler was quick to step up, rubbing a hand against the Cat Mike’s fur ears.
“How are things out there? Tenna blow a fuse, or any other disasters I should know about?” His voice wasn’t loud enough to drown out Pluey’s delighted purrs, a normal sound to make someone feel hot under the collar. Battat ironed out a minuscule wrinkle from his tie, tucking it back into his poncho.
“Uh. Mostly good. Tenna requested an antenna massage after late night shows. I’d offer, but ya knows how well dat worked out last time…”
The groan he let slip didn’t quite cover the extent of his exasperation at his employer, but close enough. “NO, no, no need! Let me handle night shift then.” Time to get back into costume… He made a beeline to the closet in the back, ignoring the fact that Jongler was following close after, reaching up to put the cowboy hat back with the others on the hat shelves.
“Did. Did da nap help?” They asked, still audible despite the fact their speakers were turned the other way. Despite the fact they’d been doing this for literal years, none of them were keen to watch each other undress. For. Unspecified, understandable reasons!
Don’t say it out loud, don’t say it out loud– “What? WHAT?? Maybe! Just a bit.” Great! All right!!! He hoped that comment wouldn’t get filed away for future blackmail.
“Glad to hear. We’s got to get you resting more often. It’s why we’s stepped up the first place.” He heard Pluey humming in agreement at the sentiment. Battat noticed the relief in Jongler’s sigh, when their Mike jacket was hung back on the rack. Was the jacket that uncomfortable for them?? Maybe all of their outfits needed a subtle refresh… If they could scrounge spare points together for supplies, anyways.
The flash of color still visible while putting on his oversized white gloves reminded him of their previous topic. “Are you gonna clue me in on your theory?”
“Oh yeas. You can still see dem?”
“Clear as day, as they say! What, you thought they’d go away?”
“Dunno. Do… do you really wanna know. What my hunch is?”
He turned around when he knew it was safe to, Jongler had fully de-Miked himself, and was back in their classic uniform. Reading the Zapper’s body language wasn’t that hard, when you were around them long enough. There was a tenseness to their shoulders that he wasn’t sure how to diffuse. Maybe nothing would. Might as well get this over with!
“If you’re willing to share, I’m all EARS!”
Surprisingly enough, Jongler turned in Pluey’s direction. “You’s think I should tell 'em, buddy?” To which the cat shaped Shadowguy took its time to consider, then nodded.
“Okay… Uh. Dere’s this Lightener story. About red strings connectin' folks. Something bout soulmates? Dunno enough bout it, but…”
If they had anything else to say on the topic, he wasn’t present enough to hear it. Now, that concept sounded familiar. Okay, if that were the case, that would change the basis of several assumptions. How one track minded could Battat get? Just because it was the same shade of scarlet from his board, he assumed it had to be Mike related? Was everything red Mike related??? Give him a break! No, really, he must have needed that nap to jump to a conclusion like that!!!! It was just.
Soulmate
Connections.
Between himself, Jongler, and Pluey.
Red rings around his little fingers, matching ones around Jongler’s thumbs, bracelets on Pluey’s wrists.
Between.
Himself? Jongler??? and PLUEY?!?
“HOO BOY! THAT’S ENOUGH.” He lurched, was the room spinning? The only thought ringing through his head on repeat was that he needed to get out immediately. “VERY INTERESTING! OKAY THANK YOU VERY MUCH, KILLER INFO- I GOTTA GO!! TENNA’S PROBABLY BEEN CALLING FOR ONE OF US SO. BYE.”
Battat ran out of the room like a bat out of hell, slammed the Mike door behind himself and leaned against it. Gasped for breath. He shook his head, once, twice, dice head jittering beneath the weight of the costume. Needed to get a grip before he got back to it.
“Think I scares him off?” came a quiet voice from behind the Mike room. Another reminder that they should invest in better soundproofing. He couldn’t watch Pluey’s reply behind the closed door, but he could wager a couple guesses at his response.
The next reply was even quieter, most likely after several volume adjustments. “…Think he knows we’s like him?” Pluey played a soundbite immediately recognizable from TV Time’s soundboard. A chorus of cricket chirps, the sound alone spurs the Shadowguy into peels of musical laughter.
He shoved himself down the hallways, back to business. He shouldn’t have heard that, probably. The clock on the wall, if it was actually functional, rudely informed him Tenna was nearly done with his fifteen minute break, and was probably desperate for a dose of Mike TLC.
There was a silver lining to the role of Mike, with its multitudes of subroles (being that of director, producer, stage manager, tech crew, therapist, ideas guy— all boiled down to basically being Tenna’s personal lapdog.) When it came down to it, most of the job was a lot of running around, flipping switches for the visual effects and audio cues, yelling at coworkers. A lot of manual labor. He threw himself headfirst into it, with little concern over consequences. The tasks blurred, fingers numb from overuse. Not having to think too hard about the details, he was old hat at this after all, meant his mind was free for rampant overthinking.
So. Assuming Jongler's theory was correct, soulmates were real. And Battat was able to see who was whose. This was something that was impossible to prove, as far as he knew, but it seemed a more substantial theory than he had previously.
There was a small, twisted part of him that wanted to make a profit out of this turn of luck. Pippin’s instinct or something. Might as well make the most of being able to perceive the unprecedented, become some sort of matchmaker.
A much louder internal voice was reminding him every so often that he had potentially confirmed soulmates!! Two individuals he'd gotten rather close to, and whom he'd like to get to know even better. Soulmates who, in fact, happened to like him? Notwithstanding knowing many of his flaws and quirks??? Bonkers, ludicrous, mind-boggling, to think THEY could look at him. A green Pippins, a knock-off bundle of neurotic tendencies, bark and bite at their worst, a yapper loser, and say “HEY! More of that guy, please!” It was the sort of revelation he should have crumbled under the weight of!!! But he kinda had a dozen different jobs to do instead.
The real question was what was Battat going to do about this new information. He couldn’t just… ask them out. Try to make this nonsense work. What was this, one of Tenna’s wacky romantic comedies?!
…
Why couldn’t it be?
Yeah!!! WHY THE HELL NOT? What’s the worst that could happen?? HAHA!!
…He needed a drink, a smoke, or a classic game of Russian Roulette. Something spontaneous and self destructive, he wasn’t particularly picky.
He made the final touches, setting up reruns for the rest of the early hours. That should be everything. No one needed to be on set until the morning, most of the stragglers had scurried home anyways. One of the pagers in his coat pocket pinged, the Tenna one by the sound of it. (It completely slipped his mind to ask Jongler for their pair, when switching over. They must have remembered to put them in his pocket. Or more likely with their memory problems, Pluey did it for them. Considerate bastards.)
Battat fought the urge to slump over the controls. Couldn’t clock out just yet, not without fulfilling Tenna’s last request. Oh, what a joy!! (In the beginning, this used to be his favorite part of the day. Being trusted, useful enough to fulfill special requests. Was that more depressing or mortifying, at this point?)
It wasn't hard to track him down this time, one knock on his dressing room door and the big man himself called out “That you, Mike?” He made sure his costume was just right with a quick bow tie adjustment, and unlocked the door with the special access key.
Tenna was already lying down on his bed, waiting for him. He had the nerve to twiddle his thumbs, crowded gloved hands in a flurry of red blurs. Why the man chose to sleep at the studio was beyond Battat’s comprehension. He could imagine wherever his boss lived was ritzy and over saturated, a sight for sore eyes in comparison to here. At least he was getting his money’s worth with the custom-made oversized bed.
“Hey boss! Sorry to keep you waiting!” It was a sentiment forced through gritted teeth, but Tenna probably couldn’t tell the difference behind the costume. So it didn’t matter! He got to work, tucking his boss into his favorite comforter, dimming the lights, removing yellow loafers so they wouldn’t leave scuff marks on the sheets. “With that out of the way, onto the main event!”
Was it normal to think massaging his boss’s metal parts was never the worst part of the day? Nothing about his life was normal anymore, so he didn’t have the best frame of reference.
“Oh Mike,” Tenna sighed, voice crackling, screen expression becoming more defined under the pressure. “What would we do without you?”
He really didn’t know! It’s not like he saw exactly what Tenna did without a Mike at the helm! Explode at Shuttah for something it had no fault in, lash out at Shadowguys for script editing not directly asked for, destroy whole boards and sets in fits of anger, making more work for everyone in the process??
If he ever did find the real Mike, at the end of a string or not, he'd relish in nothing more than to give the guy a piece of his mind…
A static shock found its way through two pairs of gloves, and he winced. Really lucky Jongler said something, wouldn’t want them on the receiving end of that.
“Sorry for the off air LIGHT SHOW!! You alright?”
“It’s fine, Mike’s feelin' fine! Anything else tonight?” Eyes darted around the room, to save them all some time, when his view fell on a twisted pile of knots. He reached out, might as well.
“Oh, don’t bother your handsome little head with those!” Tenna swatted away any attempts to untangle the threads.
His motormouth did him a favor and switched into high gear, “If you’re sure! Just seemed like something you needed an extra pair of hands for!” His brain helpfully caught up on the situation, memorized Tenna’s word choice for future consideration. Before he said, “I didn’t think anyone else could, well hold up. You. You can see THESE??”
“Correctomundo, bucko!!” And wasn’t that quite the wrinkle.
“... Not just me?” So he wasn’t cosmically lucky, after all.
“NOPE! Isn't that wonderful!?! I mean... with me there’s so many, I’ve never really, ahaha!! Found out who’s on the other end!! Except…”
And oh shit, he could spot that expression shift a mile away, longing with a bit of nostalgia. Treading dangerously close to talking about that mailman, and honestly? Battat wasn’t sure he could handle a Tenna therapy session at this hour. Shock therapy, sure! Been there, done that.
It was time for a subject change, but surprisingly Tenna was the one to offer it. “So! Any luck locating your lucky three potential pardners?”
And really. It had been several years since they’d aired after school specials, but surely the man still remembered how to count. It was part of his goddamn intro tape. “Nosiree, just the two for me!”
“Mike!!! Buddy!! Can’t pull a fast one on my watch, you’ve definitely got three!” And there’s that dramatic sliver screen pointer finger, directed at the two Battat had noticed, stopping at a third point. He glared down at the spot, left hand middle claw, and saw nothing but his shaking gloves. If he concentrated, could he feel something there? Or was that his mind conjuring sensation due to hyper-awareness?
What in the world did that mean? Tenna could see one he couldn’t, so were there some invisible to Tenna as well? Did it indicate a platonic thing, or was it entirely irrelevant?? Who could be his third?? Was it someone he already knew? It’s not as if there was anyone else in his life he had good chemistry with, not anyone he could think of!
(There was an obvious answer, so obvious that Battat was staring down his nose that very moment. ALRIGHT BUT SERIOUSLY. Keeping the can opener far away from that CAN OF WORMS!!! He should limit the amount of romantic crises to one at a time!!! Or two, as the case may be. Three would seriously be pushing it.)
“Um… hey- HEY!! Still with us? Testing, testing, can you hear me??” The sound of something snapping in the background brought him out of the haze.
RIGHT. Still in Tenna’s dressing room, still here, with the man of the hour. Most of the ways through the nighttime routine. Waiting for his trusty assistant to say something, do something!
“Sorry, sorry! Not feeling myself today! What cha need? Lights off, fresh socks? Cough drops- stop!? Nearly forgot to set up your nighttime specials!”
As he rambled, he saw that Tenna seemed different, light shining a little dimmer than usual. Not noticeably, only those used to interacting with him closely would notice the difference. They’d less than gracefully avoided several elephants in the room, but. Had he shrunk a size during the time Battat had spaced out?
“Got something on your mind, sir? You know you can tell me anything, and really, I do mean anything!” (He didn’t mean a word at this point! Just wanted this to be over and done with!!)
“No, Mike you’ve done PLENTY today! I wouldn’t want to be a bother!!!”
“It really wouldn’t be! I’ll scrub this off the record for you, just between you and me!” So he needed a little prying today, did he?
“If you’re sure…” to which he made sure to nod emphatically. It was always a little funny to see the boss pretend not to want to, only to relent after the smallest of nudges.
“Am… am I doing okay at this? Am I a good boss?” Tenna asked, clutching the comforter close, nose droopy. Oh boy, what a loaded gun of a quiz question.
“Of course!” he said, the correct answer, pointedly not stating the obvious. Ant Tenna was a tempest, anyone working under him was bound to be caught in the cyclone.
Battat watched the CRT’s head fall back against the pillows, static snow slowly filled the screen.“You wouldn’t… rather work somewhere else? For someone else? More modern, less—“
“Oh, shaddup!!! ENOUGH of that negative nancy talk!! Wouldn’t trade this for the world, boss…”
And the more he thought about it, he really wouldn’t, bat-shit as that sounded. He loathed the details, never ending hours, the slop, the grime that refused to leave certain corners, but really, he couldn’t get enough of this lousy place! He liked being Mike! Liked being at the heart of a mystery. He even cared about vicious, goofy Tenna at the end of the day!!
Didn’t know where he’d be without all this. Especially without his- well it felt weird to call them coworkers now. Friends?? Comrades in the cause of taming their boss? Crushes was a stupid association, even if it was only considered mentally. Whatever the title, he was grateful his brain was back to thinking about those two without feeling dizzy.
“Well, I’m glad to know! Hey, are you feeling alright? You’ve seemed a little… gloobier than usual.”
He really hadn’t put on a good act today, had he. “Me? GLOOBY??? Forget about it!! You’re glooby!!”
It wasn’t a dishonest deflection. Tenna’s face still showed stray grey pixels, although not as many as before. Of course, this was a common occurrence, and he shouldn’t be too worried about it. Tenna was a grown ass middle-aged man who could deal or not deal with his obvious baggage however he liked!
He was probably still going to worry about it intrusively, hours from now, with bitterness and contempt and absolutely no other emotions!
“No, really! You should take tomorrow off! Doctor Tennaville’s orders!!!”
Huh. Tenna, giving out unprompted time off? In this economy, it probably wasn’t paid time off, but. Battat couldn’t really remember the last time he'd had a full day free. Even ones that were scheduled in advance always had some last minute complications, all hands needed on deck. Or a Mike day off lined perfectly up with a green Pippin’s shift selling Marvelous Mystery junk.
If Tenna had offered him a day off, back when the role of Mike was filled by him alone, he would have flat out denied it. Meant more work in the long haul. But nowadays, a day off for Mike wasn’t just for him.
“If you’re sure. I could be on standby if you need—” he was cut off by a single finger in his face, shushing noise and all.
“A day off, on standby? Not good enough for our Mike! A good break means it’s got to be done properly, that’s what you’re always telling me!”
“Of course, of course!” And no, he did not remember saying that one. But whether that was a remnant from the real Mike or a Jongler saying remained to be seen…
“Alright! Kept you up long enough!! Goodnight, Mike! Sweet dreams!!!” Tenna unceremoniously shut off his screen.
Oh. He couldn't find the energy within himself to be bitter, but that was it? That was all Tenna wanted?? No lullabies, ending on a half-assed goodbye? It would have been nice to just… talk. Just a little longer.
"Night."
Was that everything? Glass on the nightstand, Tenna's outlet tail safely plugged in for recharging, and with one final check that everything was as it should be, Battat took that as permission to leave.
The rest was a breeze, comparatively. Just shutting off lights, locking doors, triple checking security measures and mandates. He didn’t see Jongler at their position, so they must have already headed back to their apartment. He should be going home too, but.
Physical limitations were his new arch enemy, he decided. He was too tired to even think about making the trip home. Which was pathetic! He’d functioned just fine without sleep before!! But he remembered just how many times he’d ended up passed out in the Mike office, mid project or theory crafting. (Usually wrapped in a blanket or a jacket without an obvious source.) When he didn’t choose to sleep, his body chose for him! As much as it was a low blow to admit, he’d be following Tenna’s example tonight.
It didn’t seem like he’d be alone. He found himself following his strings more than muscle memory.
Sort of ridiculous, actually, he thought with that unyielding warm feeling returning. Why were they still here? Didn't they have LIVES? With Tenna still in the building, sure maybe they needed an extra Zapper guarding the place. But they weren’t at their station. And maybe he couldn’t remember exactly which department Pluey worked in, it hadn’t been keen to mention. But it was definitely past their time to go, all the other Shadowguys were off shift hours ago.
The trail ended at their door. They were both just behind it, waiting for him. Cheesy, sappy idiots. Wasn’t sure what he’d find, behind the door code and cat statutes. He was pretty sure there was more than one cat, from the sound of meowing.
Scattered across the tiled floors was a familiar litter of monochrome kittens, all riled up and excited to play with the piles of red string on the floor. And. He guessed it probably wouldn’t be bad for them? Not like they could swallow it, so it wouldn’t ruin their digestive tracts??? If they even had those, being attack patterns and all. Pluey gave them little tube treats sometimes, but— The realization hit harder, how short sided could he be? To assume it was just him seeing the damn things.
“Welcomes back. Miss us?" One of the green ones found a new chew toy and bit down hard, the tension yanked him further into the room. He had to spin to find the source of their voice. There they were, snuggled up with the cyan cats sitting on the couch, that seemed bigger than the last time he'd seen it. He'd completely forgotten that the couch was also a pull out. Handy. Of course he had missed them. Would have spontaneously combusted if his tired body had made him say that one out loud. He was being a little dumb about all of this, it had only been a few hours!
"What are you two wearing?" He ended up saying instead. Battat knew of course, could recognize the style of Jongler's old fashioned nightgown and Pluey's pinstriped nightshirt and pants, even in lower lighting. He just needed the verbal confirmation he wasn't actively losing it.
"Uh, dey's pajamas. We's havin' a sleepover."
Make sure you sleep, Pluey chimed in.
"Guess who's had dat bright idea."
He chuckled, stepping closer to the Zapper, watching from the corner of his eye as Pluey's smile got a touch more smug. "Really couldn't tell ya! Probably someone clever." To make up for the teasing, he reached out, petted its head again, making sure to scratch behind their actual ears this time. Even when he was trying to restrain, he couldn't keep his blasted hands to himself!! The Shadowguy didn't seem to mind, silhouette smile widening.
It really wouldn't be fair, Battat rationalized. Petting one without the other. A sign of bias or favoritism. So he stepped up on the couch to headpat Jongler. Their LED flickered under the touch, patches of pink on their face more vibrant under scrutiny. This was classic coworker behavior. He was feeling extremely neutral about the reactions his choices were eliciting.
Someone behind him was taking off his mike head, he had to quell the nerves that action immediately triggered. It was just Pluey! Private room, private eyes. They started patting his head too, soft motions that made his insides feel like putty. The motions didn't stay soft, though, almost felt like it just wanted to see his dice head roll and spin.
"HEY! Stop!!" To which he stopped, only to sign Make me. Cheeky little...
Against his will, his legs were leaving the cushions of the couch. Ah. Jongler was scooping him up one handed, like he weighed nothing. He'd seen them do things like that before, being the muscle of the group, so why was it making his putty insides instantly solidify, only to get all fuzzy?? As quickly as it happened, they were letting him back down, in front of their costume closet.
"You's gets cozy. Hungry at all?"
He wasn't sure if it was from the nausea of everything that happened in the day, but the thought of food was not a welcome one. He shook his head.
"Got it. We's make sure you eats something in the mornin." They hopped in place, as if unsure what to do next, then went back to the main room. Jonlger hadn't stopped smiling since he entered the room. The white highlight of their face, upon occasion seen as furrowed or narrowed, was curved upward. Relaxed as could be, he thought.
Finally free of the costume, he considered his options. Didn't think they had sleepwear here, not like he had much back at his place either. The poncho and tie were first to go, wouldn't want those getting messed up. The button up shirt too, that would be a pain to iron. His slacks were fine? Fine enough, it would feel far too weird if he just wore boxers... He was fine with this! Not overthinking anything at all!!
… who was he fooling, at this point. Not himself, or anyone else! So why bother trying?? He had clear evidence at this point, visual, physical, and verbal, that everyone in this room was crazy about each other! The pants were coming off! The gloves, too. How did he forget those.
Of course today would be the day he wore the cursed branded underwear, with little Tenna faces smiling up at him. Sure they'd been overpriced, but sue him! They were comfortable!!! Damn it, he couldn't back down now, now it was the principle of pride.
Nothing else to do but rejoin the others. He could do that simple task.
… Battat did not do that. He started digging at the back of the closet, had to have stored something for a rainy day that wouldn't be a pain. There did seem to be a rolled up pair of pants, right under the stack of—
They were coral TV Time pajama pants. In his size. Well then.
The second he got back, the change was noticed. At least he wasn't the only one changing, the cat attacks had been sent away. Probably got too sleepy, then enraged by the lack of constant pets. For the best, he guessed. He’d pet them another time.
"Hey, are dose—"
"Not a word," he threatened, to which Pluey played the tune they used for the “WORD from sponsors!” cassette.
"Walked right into that one…" He sat down, at the furthest corner of the pullout, leaving a wide berth. The hinges beneath them squeaked. Sure hoped the couch could support the three of them. Sure, one of them could sleep on the floor, but that would be. Sorta stupid.
Might as well break the news, before he conveniently forgot or chickened out. "Tenna gave Mike the day off tomorrow." That got both of their attention.
Really? They signed, mouth a dramatic, ":O?" Why?
"We can do whatever we's want?"
"Within reason!" (He'd rather say forever and always, but FUCK. TAKING DAMAGE. REALLY BAD THOUGHT. Bad enough to make his entire face screw up in an attempt to hide any coloration.) He had to say it, the pretentious thing stuck on the tip of his tongue, or it would frustrate him till the end of time. He was going to! NOW!! The words come out at top speed, smushed together. "So to clear the air, Ireallylikebothofyou. ROMANTICALLY. Incaseyadidn'tknow."
Okay. But was ANY of that understandable?
"We knows. We, uh. We's like ya too," Jongler said, blush back in full force.
At least they also matched the Shadowguy, who looked extra shy without his hat or costume to duck into. It raised a hand and nodded it in a fist twice, and hell he was pretty sure that meant yes? He swore he knew at least the basics by heart, why now was he doubting himself?? No, never mind, that was a yes. Pluey was having fun finding out new ways to form hearts with their hands and fingers. Cute, he was allowed to think they were cute now. Both so… UGH!!! Aggravatingly downright adorable.
It was getting to be too late for him to think coherently, but Battat thought he should probably be extremely straightforward about everything. Embarrassing, but communication was important for healthy, functional relationship stuff, right?! If he was even capable of having those!! Can opener, dig in! Meet tin lid!!
"HAHA! Um. Cool. Tenna too, maybe??? Not that I can do anything about it, without letting the whole Mike bomb drop!!"
We know, Pluey signed, with an slightly exasperated smile, at the same time that Jongler repeated themself from earlier.
"You know, you all KNOW everythin', dontcha?" Battat reached out greedy hands for each of them, in a way that would definitely make a disheveled mess of the yarn. Didn't matter much, anymore. Angel, maybe this could replace every obsessive destructive craving. Not entirely, but it was just such an endorphin rush to cradle smooth remote palm, interlock with dark tingly fingers, and have each touch mean something.
"Remind me. Do we’s like Tenna too?" WAIT. HUH. DID THEY? IT WASN'T. JUST HIM. AGAIN??
He felt more than saw Pluey's shrug, so he let go of his hand so it could respond. Part of job? they joked. That was probably a joke, right?
"Oh yeas. Us two, den."
”:3”
He laughed, hell, as far as they knew, it was just another unwritten assignment! Duty calls! Mike was Tenna's favorite, so maybe it worked the other way round! Who else would be this devoted?! He couldn't stop laughing now that it started, so he hoped he didn't sound delirious.
He definitely did, with the way Jongler said "All right, talks later. Sleep now." They pressed a button on their chest, and the dimmed lights went completely out. Okay, so they were doing this. The whole sleeping in the same place thing. He didn't really have a preference, position wise, but.
How had he managed to end up in the middle?? Arms around him on both sides. Warm and nice, and hey maybe sleep would find him easily this way. Maybe tonight he wouldn't be up for several extra hours thinking about all the other productivity things he should be doing! Wouldn't that be a treat. His eyelids were drooping closed already. Maybe he'd sleep in, after unraveling and unwinding the night's mess, they all could do something together? Like a date? Didn't mind them, not a bad fruit.
Battat wasn't conscious this time, of his loss of consciousness, the train of sleepy thoughts winding down sillier tracks. But it wasn't something to bemoan, croon, or groan. He'd really been in need of the mental break. It was one he well and truly earned and deserved.