Work Text:
Mike ducked behind the screen as soon as they returned to the office, swiftly undoing the buttons of their uncomfortable suit before throwing it off. They didn't even wave back at the Shadowguy.
Phew. That was much better already. Good riddance. They let out a sigh, sitting down on a stool to rest their fatigued body. Their joints ached as they took off their gloves to flex their mechanical hands.
It was a harder shift than usual, they thought, glancing up at the standing mirror. It was okay, though. The Pippins would walk in soon, and he'd tell them they did well. That was pretty worth it in their eyes.
They began undressing themself further—first the hat, then the tie, then the boots and slacks... they left the dress shirt for last, their fingers grazing indecisively against the buttons.
Their gaze drifted away from the mirror as they unbuttoned their shirt, the clothing falling open to reveal their buttons: the triangular button panel in the center, the power button right under their neck, and...
They glanced back up in the mirror. Their four app buttons, arranged neatly in a grid, clean as the day they arrived in the Dreemurr household.
Unused—useless, even—like a horseshoe hung on a barn's door; like the lowest button on a suit jacket (the Pippins had chuckled a little when they buttoned it, the first time they tried on their costume).
They knew some Zappers—in other Dark Worlds, from other households, like the one from the Cattenheimer family—had app buttons. App buttons that were actually useful. Theirs, though?
Nobody had even heard of most of those services, let alone used them. And Poob? Poob didn't have anything for anyone!
They groaned quietly into their hands. It's okay, they thought, they made up for it with their character. They gave being Mike a good, honest shot. They'd pick up paperwork from the Pippins when they felt they weren't doing enough. They'd haul boxes back and forth for Tenna.
But at the end of the day, none of that really made it special, did it? Anybody could pick up the busywork they did. And being out and about as Mike... it was one of the only things that only they could do, being Big Mike. Yet, somehow, they managed to screw up a little bit every day.
The Pippins said he was proud of them, sure, but they knew they made things harder for the others sometimes.
From the other side of the screen, they heard quiet musical notes, concerned-sounding.
"What is it, buddy?"
More notes, still sounding unsure. They threw their dress shirt back on, pulling it tightly onto their body but not caring enough to redo it.
"You's can c'mere if you want. I don't mind."
He peeked shyly behind the screen—the Zapper's back was facing him, and they turned just slightly to wave awkwardly—before smiling and walking over, putting his hands on their shoulders as a friendly gesture.
"Hey, pal."
His hands went up to sign: "Work?"
"... It was okay. Tough shift tonight."
He nodded in sympathy and gave them a careful side-hug. They turned slightly to hide their buttons. The Shadowguy loosened his grip, seeming to take that as an expression of irritation.
"Oh, are... you's goin' bud?"
He shook his head, then tilted it, palm on his own chest.
"Oh. I just thoughts... never mind."
He stood up for a second, like he was deciding to finally go. The Zapper slouched a little bit more in their seat, before they heard the sound of something scraping against the floor.
The Shadowguy had pulled up a stool, sitting down next to them with a patient smile. They tried to smile back. It must not have worked very well, because his smile dulled in concern.
He pointed at their chest. Their gaze fell back down to their uncovered buttons, and they frantically pulled their shirt closed to hide them.
"A-Ain't nothin' to worry about. It's just..."
The Shadowguy motioned for them to continue.
"I ain't anythin' real useful, I think I've realized. Everythin's I do, I knows one of you's could do better." They looked away. "Maybe it's just how I was made. All my app buttons is useless... my IR signal was faulty from da start... dey really set me up for somethin' like dis, didn't dey?"
They felt his hand on their shoulder again, gentle and steady, and sighed. He shook his head adamantly when they looked at him.
"I know you cares. You both does." He nodded. "But one day... what if I weighs you down too much?" He shook his head again, a somber expression on his face.
"My memory ain't so good. I can't talks very well. I do da papers for Boss, but... every time, I'm worried I'm inches away from messin' up."
His hand left their shoulder. Their gaze followed it.
"We don't keep you around for that. You're a person. Not something to be discarded at any sign of a flaw."
"... I s'pose. But Boss, and Mike..."
"... He's passionate. I know it might be hard to see, but he cares about you." He smiled. "He tells you he's proud of you every day, even when you're not on duty."
"I did think dat was weird..."
"And remember when 'Mike' called in sick when you weren't feeling well? Your sensor was completely shot that day. He wanted to be here until you were alright."
They thought for a moment.
"Oh, yea, I guess I... forgots."
He leaned onto their shoulder, his warmth comforting.
"I think I remember him bein' worried. I was real delirious, but I remember bein's... confused. Dat he was dere. Runnin' around doin's stuff for me."
"He cares about you, of course. We both do. Not about the work you do for us, or for Mike, but about you."
Their hands felt heavy in their lap. "I'll... try to remember. Again."
"If you forget, I'll remind you. I'm not going anywhere."