Work Text:
Battat often spent a lot of time analyzing just how different his coworkers were.
Not for any particular reason, but it only recently occurred to him how little their personalities align. Jongler is polite, relaxed, easier to deal with than Pluey for sure, but could be way too nosy and involved. They also don't "get" whatever they do that triggers Battat's annoyance. In fact, there's a lot of things about the die that they only pretend to understand, though the effort is somewhat appreciated.
Pluey, on the other hand, is playful and energetic. They're the person you make the bad choices with, the one who makes you forget the job you're supposed to do. Not talking much at all would be a plus, if "Cat Mike" wasn't so amused by doing the opposite of whatever Battat wants them to. Yes, they love teasing and getting a rise out of him, especially by being overly affectionate, and it's admittedly very easy to do. All with a high pitched laugh that pissed him off further.
Despite Pluey's antics, and Jongler's head in the clouds, Battat didn't have a favorite between the two. And yes, he's thought about it. A lot. But they each have their ups and downs, and he couldn't imagine having one without the other to balance it all out. He could push through the headaches if it meant that the work gets done with the extra set of hands he has. They are much better than the other Pippins, anyway. At least these two have a genuine bone in their body. If they, uh, have bones at all.
Once Battat started organizing this information, it proved to be quite useful. When presented with a certain task, he'd find himself asking: "Who is better equipped to help with this?" Or, more accurately, "Who is better at causing the least amount of problems in this scenario?"
Nine times out of ten, the answer was Jongler. Mostly because their default response was "'k, boss," to anything they were asked, without thinking about it. Sometimes, though, they'd start prying like they're trying to accuse him of something. Or completely forget what they were supposed to do because they were focused on some other task, or idea. It drove Battat nuts.
Pluey, when Battat was particularly short with them, would put up a fight. Drag out the process, or act stupid, or just ignore his boss altogether. It wouldn't last too long, but sometimes it was a complete waste of time that they didn't always have.
There was a reason he was thinking about this now on his way home from his shift: to pick a lesser of two evils. Today was just one of those days where he couldn't risk it with either of them. He spent all of his energy as Mike, trying to comfort an unstable Tenna who was having a complete mental breakdown, throwing things and threatening to cancel the entire show because of...well, SOMETHING that ticked him off. Battat sort of stopped paying attention at some point, letting his mind turn into static until he looked like he was done, and "Mike" could intervene. He was safe from most of his insults as long as he was Tenna's "friend," but even just witnessing his behavior did something to the die. Nowadays, he can't even pretend to care about Tenna's feelings the entire time. His mask makes it so that he didn't have to, but he at least tries to be present.
He felt the warmth inside of his costume a little too heavily, like his body has been hollowed out, and he wonders why he bothers doing any of this in the first place. The longer he thought about it, the dizzier he felt. His coworkers usually knew when to tone down their teasing if he looked pissed off enough, but just the idea that this is the day they really decide to test him leaves a burning feeling in the back of his throat.
Not that it would be their fault, entirely. They never want to make him feel worse, in a way that lasts. He never says how he truly feels to them, so they don't actually know the severity of his thoughts on a bad day. It's not serious enough to communicate, he'd tell himself. You'll get over it. No need to make everyone else feel like shit just because you had a bad day at work.
Besides, isn't it weird to rely on the people you work with for emotional comfort? Not like they're best friends or anything. What if they think he's weird for even considering it?
He would usually hide in his "Theory Room" and work until he was ready to interact again, but that was becoming less and less enticing, or even helpful. The things that he didn't understand would frustrate him more than intrigue him, and he'd be back at square one with needing to self regulate.
When he finally found himself at his front door, he paused, racing thoughts coming to a halt with him. He knew he needed to go inside soon, it was already much later than expected, and someone else needed to go out as Mike.
He just... Hasn't decided who, yet.
Inching closer to the door, he pushes his weight onto his tiptoes until he can slightly see through the small window to catch a glimpse of the living room. (Yes, he really IS that short.) From what he could see, Jongler was watching TV with Pluey sleeping soundly next to them on the couch, legs curled up and the side of their face on their thigh. Battat stared for a little while longer than he should have before sighing in relief.
Looks like Battat had his answer. With Jongler gone, the entire place would be nice and quiet for a good while. He pulled out his phone, still not wanting to say anything directly, and sent a message to the "Mikes" group chat after slipping off one of his gloves.
You're up, Jon. I'll be home in a bit, just finishing something up first.
He sent the text and waited less than a minute for it to get a thumbs up reaction, which made Battat roll his eyes at how predictable that was to him. Then, he ran as far as he could in a random direction, settling on the changing room, until it felt good to go back.
Finally slipping off the rest of his costume and putting it in its usual hiding spot, Battat let out a huge exhale. That definitely helped with the feeling of suffocation, but only from the outside. He relished in the cool air on his skin before pulling out his phone to mindlessly scroll while waiting on Jongler.
How long should he stay here, anyway? Getting ready takes, what, five minutes maximum? Jongler doesn't have much to get ready with anyway, they could already be out the door by now.
...But that's only if they actually focus on getting ready, and Battat knew how much they would often stall or get distracted, without his "boss" there to keep him on track. What if they take too long, and Tenna goes looking for Mike? What if nobody's there to help? What if they're waiting for him to come back first?
Battat considered all of this and more, only noticing that he was pacing once he ran out of questions. By now, only three minutes have passed. He groans to himself, giving a light smack to the side of his head.
None of this matters! Just shut up!
...
Fifteen minutes is long enough, he decides.
-
Fifteen minutes later, on the dot, Battat starts racing out of the changing room, which probably wasn't a good idea in hindsight, but of course he had to go and overthink something so simple. When he found himself in front of the door again, he took the time to check the window. No sign of Jongler anywhere, but Pluey was still asleep. Impressive that they didn't get woken up from any of the noise, or Jongler moving them off of their lap. Must've been real careful.
He sighs, pushing the door openly as slowly as he can and flinching at the drawn out squeak it makes. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to wake Pluey at all. Battat wishes he wasn't such a light sleeper.
Closing the door behind him, he looks around. The living room is pretty clean, aside from Pluey's ball of yarn that seems to stretch out for all eternity. The TV is still on, along with all the lights, which makes Battat's head hurt. How can anyone fall asleep in these conditions?
He glances over at Pluey once more, noticing their state of comfort as they took soft breaths. After today, or the past few weeks even, he can't help but feel a bit envious of his coworker's ability to always be in a good mood. Not to mention their sleeping habits.
He grabbed the remote that was sitting beside them, shutting the TV off. Based on what was actually on the screen, he guesses that Pluey has been sleeping for a long while, and Jongler needed something to do in the meantime. He rolled the ball of yarn up neatly (seriously, how did it get unraveled this much?) and placed it softly next to Pluey's head. After that, he shut off the rest of the lights.
...It was at this point he realized that he didn't actually know what to do with himself. He was standing aimlessly in a dark hallway with nothing but his thoughts, and it's not like it's late enough to go to bed. On the other hand, it's too late to take a nap. Doesn't stop Pluey, though.
He thought about isolating himself in his "room" like usual, but the idea of seeing all of his scrambled ideas and failed conclusions made him feel even heavier. His eyes wandered for a while until they met the bedroom. Or, it was more like Pluey and Jongler's bedroom. Technically made for everyone, but Battat never actually slept in it. He hated not having enough space for himself to get comfortable, so he just slept on the couch. Sometimes even on the floor. The other two never pushed him on it, Jongler would offer a trade some nights if Battat was too sore or exhausted, but he never took them up on it. He doesn't actually mind it that much, he's pretty small so it's easier to sleep on compared to someone like Jongler. Well, if you actually want to take up space, which Pluey did not. Guess it didn't matter as long as they're comfortable.
And hey, that means Battat can go sit on the bed for once. At least until Pluey wakes up. Very careful of his noise level, he slowly approached the bedroom door, huffing at a moderate volume as soon as the door clicked behind him. It was rather cool inside, which he liked. Not like he's never in there, he'd pop in occasionally just to..hang out, or use the closet for storage, but most of the time he was in his own room working. He briefly questions why he doesn't just make his work room a bedroom by just, I don't know, adding a bed, but shakes away the thought because he doesn't feel like putting in the effort or spending the money in this moment.
He slowly made his way to the bed, sinking down like an alarm was going to go off once he made contact with the mattress. He thinks about how soft it is once that obviously doesn't happen, as if he's never been in it before, which he tries to avoid in case the others think it's gross or inconsiderate. He inches his way across until his back is lightly pressed against the wall, settling for putting his hands in his lap after he turned on the TV and let whatever was on begin to play.
Now he REALLY didn't know what to do, but it felt nice in a way. It was like he was the only person left in the world, with nobody else to interrupt this train of thought. He could just turn his brain off and relax, put on whatever kind of face he wanted. Think whatever thoughts he wanted. Do nothing.
A little while passes, and he starts to tap his fingers against his knee in a steady rhythm. When he got bored of the TV, not wanting to strain his eyes much further, he'd just look around the room and observe.
He realized, very quickly, that he hasn't taken the time to look at the place in a while. Pluey and Jongler have added quite a bit of stuff. Cowboy posters and stickers along the walls, a cat themed calendar, a lot of pictures of the three of them that he doesn't remember being taken. The closest was full of notebooks, boxes of various art and crafting supplies, with more effort put into that than any of their clothes. A section of the closet, however, was almost completely empty - aside from Battat's clothes. And a pair of green gloves that weren't his.
They... Have a lot more going on than he thought. Much more than him. How long has that stuff been there? How has he never noticed it?
How long has it been since he let himself get out of "work-mode"? When was the last time he went into the living room before midnight? He used to have a lot more free time. Not that it was taken away willingly, he just gave himself more work. Work that didn't matter, at the end of the day. It was his idea of a hobby, something to wind down with. Get all of his thoughts out. Pluey and Jongler could never wrap their head around it, but figuring out who Mike was became his only focus. Even if it was none of his business, even if it was completely useless information, he felt personally responsible to complete this one task. Not that he was doing much with his life aside from that.
In fact, what the hell was Battat going to do once he did find Mike? What if he comes back? Takes his place? Takes their place? He'll still work for Tenna like normal, but... what about after that?
There's no more Theory Room. No more theories at all. No more Mike rotation. The Mike Room would be completely abandoned. Pluey and Jongler would go back to their normal lives, and wouldn't have a reason to talk to Battat again. Which, while sounding fine on paper, makes the die curl in on himself with unease. This is too much change in his normal life, in his schedule. He's not leading anyone, working on anything he's actually passionate about. He doesn't have any excuse to socialize without the only two people he can tolerate dragging him out of his shell.
He'll be completely useless, he determined. Like in the way he's being useless right now.
His nerves suddenly shot at the idea, scrambling to get out of bed and work on something, but didn't get far before his eyes met the door, which was now open, and he made direct eye contact with Pluey (well, eye contact on his side, anyways.)
"ACK--" He tumbles back, hitting the wall with greater force than he was expecting. Nothing is said between the two of them for as long as they keep looking at each other, Pluey slowly turning their head with a heavy feeling of concern in their face.
"...(˘･_･˘)?" They continue to stare, Battat feeling like he was completely cornered despite have a good amount of space to himself. He could easily run away, if he wasn't immobile from shock.
He didn't want to break the silence. But, clearly, only one person could.
"...What?" He asks, hushed but blunt. It was embarrassing how he still didn't have most of his voice, the delivery making the Shadow Guy noticeably more tense.
After a second, they backed away until they almost ran into the door, reenacting them walking inside. They turn their attention to Battat, move their hand in a talking motion in front of their mouth, before pointing at him and going completely still. For maybe a little bit too long, just to hammer the point home.
So they saw him spacing out and looking like a total freak. And he didn't even notice it. Great. Even greater, he has no idea how to even respond, so it was just more awkward silence and unintelligible stammering. Before he could embarrass himself further, Pluey held up his hand which made Battat immediately go silent, watching as they pulled out their phone and began looking through it. After a few seconds, his own phone buzzed.
Pulling it out, he hesitantly turned his phone on and checked that Pluey had privately messaged him.
Are you okay?
Despite it being only three words, Battat read it over and over again, stunned. He was expecting a much less serious reaction, from someone so playful. In fact, he was expecting judgment, laughter, something more in character.
What were they so worried about? Why do they even care? It was almost uncanny to see such a serious expression on their face, such weak movements. And it was Battat's fault.
Realizing that he was thinking too long again, he glances back at Pluey, who was still waiting for a reply. Though, they didn't look like were pushing in the slightest.
He wanted to say what he normally would in situations like this. What the hell are you talking about?! I'm fine! Stop overthinking everything I do!
What he ACTUALLY said, after a full minute of trying to type a response (following another failed attempt at verbal speech,) was much worse.
Yeah.
Realizing very quickly that this wasn't an acceptable answer, he added:
Kinda lost my voice as Mike. Feeling tired.
He wanted to add "Sorry for worrying you, for sitting in your bed, for not responding to you, just overall being weird," but decided against it. Looking back at Pluey, he saw them read the response and slowly nod in understanding. Instead of typing another text, they simply look at him, point to themselves, then the floor, then the door. To him, what they were saying was clear: “Do you want me to stay or leave?"
Battat thought about it for a second, before realizing that was stupid to even think about it, seeing as it was more Pluey's room than his. He should be gone by now, but he didn't trust himself to make any movements.
“What did you come in here for?” He asks weakly, Pluey pointing to the closet and using a finger to make a bunch of various squiggles and shapes. Battat's eyes squinted, confused, before he blurted out.
"You want to, uh...draw?" Out of nowhere, he remembered everything he saw in the closet. Pluey nodded, giving an eager smile. Battat's gaze stayed locked on the supplies, and the unease in his stomach grew.
Battat likes art. He's not a serious artist or anything, he usually just doodles something quick if it helps him visualize a thought. Or it's something to organize his theory board. But he hasn't done it in a while, because it takes too much effort. And here he was, not even knowing that Pluey had the same interest. He's supposed to be the observant one!
He wants to be alone. But being alone means he'll just sit and do nothing until feels even worse. He can't work, he can't relax, can't even think. Not in these conditions. Not in those ways.
He might as well keep himself busy, just so he doesn't feel bad. Or make Pluey feel bad. He kind of owes it to them to go back to "normal." And while he does that, he'll have someone there to keep him on track, to pay attention to him so much that it guilts him to keep working.
Besides, Pluey's the quiet one. He can get away with something like this, right? Being unresponsive, Pluey helping without actually trying to. Unlike Jongler, who is much more persistent, always trying to do something, always trying to keep Battat in the present moment. It stresses him out sometimes.
For just a moment, he can act...a little more like them.
Slowly, he pats a space on the bed next to him, and Pluey smiles wide, already going to grab everything he needs from the closet.
"Just-" he stammers, the other pausing to look over their shoulder. He bites his lip, inhales, and continues.
“..I don't really feel like talking.”
His heart races faster when they simply stare with a blank, unbothered expression - before it shifted entirely.
ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
...He didn't know what he was so worried about. Maybe they're just not used to him being so quiet, but don't want to draw attention to it. Regardless, he couldn't help but sigh in relief knowing that they didn't seem to actually care at all. With that, they went back to the task at hand. They got out a sketchbook, a few different pencils, pens, and some markers before sitting against the wall beside Battat - though noticeably as far as they could get themselves. They have just enough room to keep themselves from falling over, but it doesn't seem to bother them. They prop their knees up and use it as a way to steady their sketchbook, flipping to blank page.
Battat, however, continues to sit and do nothing, because he never actually said that he wanted to join them. It might be too late now...
Suddenly, they're looking at each other again, a curious expression on the Shadow Guy's face. Realizing he was caught staring, Battat flushes a light shade of green - backing away instinctively. But Pluey simply shrugs and gets back to it.
Once they actually got going, Battat was immediately impressed by Pluey's show of skill and restraint when it came to putting the pen to paper. Not seeming at all nervous that someone was watching them, maybe it made them focus even more. But their lines were quickly drawn and smooth in appearance, and they were conscious of how much weight they were putting on the paper each time the pen made contact. Sometimes they'd press into it firmly, but for the finer details, it was more of a featherlight touch. It looked as if they used a variety of different utensils.
This was much more than the simple doodles that Battat would make for his theories. Pluey was really good at this, and he had no idea. Maybe when he's feeling better, they should talk about it more.
It felt better doing nothing when someone was there to see it, Battat soon realized. Just watching Pluey put in all the work calmed some of his nerves, and being quiet wasn't so... suffocating. Thinking about Pluey was better than thinking about himself.
...Not that he usually does that.
As nice as this was, he still wanted to participate somewhat. He can't go too long without putting his hands to use. Not wanting to disrupt Pluey, he slid out of the bed in one swift motion and made his way to the closet, poking his head through and finding a green and black notebook that was mistakenly put in the pile of books and sketchbooks. Or maybe it was on purpose.
He used to write in a journal almost every day, but pushed it aside in favor of his Mike work. It was more to document the work he was already doing, but there's no such thing as too many ways to organize your thoughts if you're as much of a mess as Battat. Returning to the bed, he grabbed the pencil that was closest to him (not confident enough to use a pen,) and sat back down - making an effort to avoid looking at Pluey.
Tapping the pencil against the cover, he racked his brain trying to think of something to draw. Specifically something not work related. Turning his head slightly towards Pluey, he noticed that they had turned around, their back now facing him. Guess they were more self conscious than he thought.
Sighing, he settled on doing something random and letting his brain figure out the rest. Turning to a random page (not wanting to see anything he previously wrote,) he began sketching, the way he saw Pluey draw appearing in his thoughts. Instinctively, he loosened his grip on his pencil, going in lighter.
Drawing a bunch of ovals and circles in a constant loop gave him the idea to draw one of those characters from the cowboy show that Jongler likes. He didn't feel like looking at a reference, so he'll just have to draw them from memory. He had to remind himself not to care too much about making it perfect. At least the sound of pencil to paper sent a relaxing buzz to his brain whenever he could hear it.
-
Turns out, you don't actually retain all of your art skills after not drawing seriously for multiple months. Battat sighs, erasing the same part of the hat for the hundredth time. He can see why he never got too into this hobby.
While staring at his creation, trying to think of his next move, a light tap on his shoulder made him jolt up suddenly. Only now remembering that Pluey was still here, he turns to face them, immediately noticing their wide smile as their sketchbook was flipped over flat on the bed. Once he wasn't distracted, Pluey held the page up to him, making a "ta-da" sound as they swayed it side to side. The Pippins stared at it for a while, eyes widening.
It was the three of them together. Not in their Mike costumes, just normally. Pluey in the middle, giving him and Jongler a side hug. Battat was on the left, rolling his eyes, while Jongler was blushing a rose-pink. Which was... a pretty accurate depiction of them.
Not just that, the proportions were scarily accurate too. Obviously scaled down to fit the page, but he thinks they look right. From an amateur's perspective, anyway.
He wasn't sure if they were waiting for some kind of response, but when he lightly lifted the corner of the paper, as if to examine it further, he gave a small smile and nodded. It was all he trusted himself to do, but it seemed to be more than enough, as he heard a gentle purr radiating from them when they pulled the sketchbook away. Placing it flat on the bed, Battat watched as they added a bunch of tiny hearts around where he was drawn, before tearing the paper from the spirals. He felt his throat tighten.
“( ◜‿◝ )♡!!!”
The Pippins was too slow to reject them before the drawing was already placed in his hands. He couldn't take his eyes off of it. The longer he stared, the less real it looked.
Is this how he really was from Pluey's perspective? It was hard to believe that he was regarded highly enough for this by either of them. Not just in the way he was represented, in a positive manner, but that he was thought of at all. As "part of the group." The fact that there's even a group to be a part of. It amazed him. He assumed they were just coworkers at best, despite the...everything with their relationship. It definitely was the furthest from normal.
The fact that he can be such a pain the ass, barely even present, only focus on work - yet still be important enough to be sat next to. To be a muse. To be given space and affection that he didn't ask for.
He wanted to tell them. Wanted to tell them that he appreciates their help, that he's been in a constant state of exhaustion lately, that he's sorry for giving the cold shoulder all the time. Specifically, he wanted to say that it's not their fault he acts the way he does. And it's not Jongler's, either.
But the idea of spilling it out now, after just re-entering a state of calm, knowing it would change things between them...he just can't. He can't do it. Not right now.
Instead, he slipped the drawing into his notebook, exhaling gently. His gaze softened as he turned to Pluey again, who was watching with great patience and fondness. Now that he's thinking about it, they seem to look at him this way often.
"Thank you." He mumbles weakly, and Pluey purrs, brushing against his shoulder before going to put the rest of his art supplies back in the closet soon after. When they looked each other's way, Pluey gave a simple, quick gesture to make their intentions even more clear, in case there was any room in Battat's mind for doubt.
(˶´ ˘ `˶)🫶
He looked away as soon as he saw it, and they giggled.
As for Battat's own drawing, he decided to redo it once he got a proper reference. Maybe Jongler would like it.
-
Once they were both finished, Pluey still stayed. Maybe Battat didn't need it anymore, but he wasn't gonna be the one to end whatever this was. They simply existed around each other before later playing card games and chess (two things that they not only could play without verbal communication, but it was something that Battat is actually good at. Pluey was a worthy opponent, which surprised him.)
When it was all said and done, the two sat in front of the TV, both eventually getting under the covers now that it was late enough to actually sleep, at some point. Battat took a bit longer, still feeling weird about being in the bed at all, but Pluey didn't seem to mind.
They did leave once at some point to get them both a snack, Battat some cheese crackers and hot green tea, and Pluey a bag of dry cereal with chocolate milk (yes, they much prefer them separately.) Battat did give them a "I'm not cleaning this up if you make a mess," scowl, and Pluey laughed as they practically unhinged their jaw to dump cereal into their mouth. Surprisingly, most of it actually didn't end up on the bed. Even if it did, they've done too much today for him to complain.
The exhaustion from the day started getting to him, the small one yawning as he sunk further down the wall, until he was barely sitting up anymore. Pluey scooted closer until they were able to lay their head on Battat's shoulder, practically pushing him into a proper laying position. He did nothing to resist, pulling them closer to their chest so he could lazily scratch their scalp. A task mainly reserved for Jongler, as he's much more touch-averse, but seeing as he can't use words to explain how he feels - he's fine with using a form of communication and affection that Pluey loves. Just this once.
Despite his previous observations, there's so much about his coworkers that he's never let himself learn. The same can be said the other way around. Maybe soon, he'll let them in a little more. They seem to really want that for some reason.
For now, he'll enjoy the comfort of Pluey's presence as he's drifted off to sleep, grounded by their purrs and weight pressed into his chest. He never thought that he could actually shut up, with his thoughts AND words, but Pluey has quite the admirable lifestyle.
Maybe they prefer him like this, he thought. The way they rubbed their face against him as they curled their legs made him shut up before he could figure out the logistics of that.
Even if that was true, he wouldn't mind. He's starting to come around to it himself.