Chapter Text
Pluey and Jongler have a system, of sorts.
The three of them have their designated Mike group chat, where they talk about work things for the most part. But they also have a habit of sending short messages that indicate they need someone else to come home, or go wherever they're working at, because they need something.
If it's something that any of them could realistically respond to, it goes to everyone. But if there's a 60 - 100% chance that Battat can't or won't respond, they say it to each other, because they know they will get to it. It can be as simple as Pluey needing attention because they're lonely, or Jongler needing help finding their hat.
For the small things, they don't bother annoying Battat with it, but he does show up sometimes when it's serious enough and the other person can't be there. At the very least, if he can help without leaving where he's at, he'll send a quick reply. It's not that he doesn't care, he's just a very busy person and needs to use his time wisely. They're both very aware of this.
So, to make things easier, Jongler and Pluey created a way where they all can easily type, read and decipher these messages that are supposed to be different from normal texts - and need a quicker response time.
1. Say who the message is for (Batt, Plue, Jon, or All.)
2. Say where you are (Home, changing room, Tenna's office, etc.)
3. Add a number at the end for the level of severity from 1-10. Anything 8 and above is used for mental, technical, physical, or Tenna Related emergencies.
4. Any additional information that is relevant, but extremely condensed. (Be Mike, bring ___, other people are present, etc.)
It took a while to create a system that works, but they're very happy with it. Well, 'they' as in Pluey and Jongler. The only ones who ever actually use it.
Even though Battat came up with the basic concept, he's never actually asked for either of them to come to him ASAP. Sure, he's sent reminders for things and asked important questions here and there, but it was nothing that was for him. It was always normal roommate stuff, or Mike things, that had a more generous deadline. Everything else he either pushed through, or figured out on his own.
Which, of course the others absolutely hated, but he's just like that. He's an independent person who hates asking for help at the inconvenience of others. He never feels like he needs anyone's help for anything (which is absolutely not true,) and would rather not make himself feel bad or make other people worry for basically nothing. Even though Jongler and Pluey are the most helpful people on the planet, not to mention the sweetest.
Still, it has yet to happen. Even when he comes home and immediately complains about a really messy situation, and either of them give a gentle reminder that he could've asked for help at any point. He looks at them like they're crazy. They don't push him on it, but it's one of the many concerning things about the little Pippins. He always bites off more than he can chew.
Right now, Jongler and Pluey are sitting at home and watching TV after a long day of cleaning. Battat is out as Mike, which is typical for this point in the day, and Pluey is already half asleep on Jongler's lap. Pretty easy and normal day, so far.
“Sorry Plue, gotta get up and get something ta drink.” Jongler warns before gently pushing the other off their lap, who begins to pout. “Do ya want anythin'?”
“(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)”
“Chocolate milk? Okie dokie.” They sat up, heading to the kitchen and grabbing two glasses. As they did so, they heard their phone buzz from the table (they don't like looking through their phone too much while spending time with the others, so they tend to set it aside, but still usually within arms reach.) Pluey's head perked up slightly.
“Sorry, dat was me.” They apologize, continuing with the task at hand. When they brought the drinks to the kitchen counter to pour into glasses, they hear their phone again.
Then again.
And again.
“...?” It pauses for a second, and they take the time to start pouring one glass before they hear it once more.
“Uhh, Plue? Can ya check dat for me?” They see them give a thumbs up in the corner of their vision, reaching over to grab it. A few seconds pass, and Jongler is bringing the cups over to the couch, the expression from Pluey greatly shifting into one of pure panic.
“.·°՞(˃ ᗝ ˂)՞°·.!!!” They shrieked, making Jongler almost spill the drinks on the floor. Well, that was a bad sign. Maybe Tenna was having one of his meltdowns again.
“I'm comin', I'm comin'.” When they were able to set the drinks down, they took their phone out of Pluey's hands. They were surprised that all of the messages came from Battat in the main group chat, but also that there was so many. Usually, he says everything he needs to in a few formal sentences.
It was even worse when they actually read through them all.
“Leaving.”
“Can't be here anymore.”
“Someone else has to. Be Mike. Now.”
“Please.”
Pluey's head was already spinning from whatever the implications here were, and Jongler wasn't too far behind them. But they couldn't spend too much time thinking, or worrying. Just by the frantic way he was typing, they could tell it was serious. They responded immediately, internally cursing themselves for asking so many questions too fast.
“What's wrong? Are you okay? Where are you?”
They sat next to Pluey on the couch, who was whining softly. They let them rest their head against their side for a moment.
“No.” He responds. This was most likely to the last question rather than the actual yes or no question being asked.
“I'm going home now just get someone here before”
“Tenna says something.”
Battat remains unbearably stubborn, as usual. Even in a worst case scenario, he's more worried about maintaining order and keeping his job than his own well being. Unfortunately for him, neither of them will stand for that.
“Plue's, do youse think ya can be Mike right now?” They ask gently, giving a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I know dis is a lot right now, I can go instead if ya like. But we have to hurry.”
Pluey slowly shook their head.
“( ɔ '́ '̯̀ )ɔ”
“Ya wanna get Batts? K den. Will ya be fine going by yerself?” They nod. It makes sense that Pluey would be the one who almost needs to be at Battat's side the most right now. With that out of the way, they begin typing again, not wanting to waste anymore time.
“I'm going out there now. It's okay. Pluey's bringing you home.” They shut their phone off and get them both off of the couch before they could read any replies. They knew what they would be, anyway.
“No don't.”
“Don't do that seriously.”
“Just go by yourself.”
“Pluey if you're reading this don't leave the house.”
”I'm okay I just need to get my costume off and I can make it.”
Pluey ran out immediately after the words 'make it' entered their head, while Jongler stayed behind to get dressed.
-
He shouldn't have pushed himself so much today. Though, truthfully, that may not have changed much.
For some reason, at some point in the evening, Battat began randomly shutting down. He'd wake up with nausea that would last for hours at a time, then he would slowly drown in his exhaustion until he could barely move. His heart would start racing from nothing, his mind would either go blank or think of everything possible, he couldn't breathe from the nerves sometimes.
And the anxiety was the most normal thing about it, really. That is something he's used to. Something he can manage. But when his entire body starts to feel so unbearably heavy, a staticy sensation in his limbs, when he's unable to walk too fast without the fear of falling over, that's when he panics.
Usually, it's not too bad when he's at work. Exhaustion, dizziness, stiff limbs, he could work around it. He had to. He can't just sit and be useless when he feels bad, otherwise he'd never get anything done. He'd never work if he didn't push through it like he has been. But even he knows his limits, if not vaguely.
The worst part was he didn't know what he did wrong. He wasn't that busy, he drank water, he ate food, he slept okay. There wasn't a specific thing that he could truly point to. It just... happens, sometimes.
Not that he rules out those things entirely, obviously not. Even he knows that he should be taking better care of himself. But when it's mild discomfort every single day, you get used to feeling that way. You don't see it inherently as a problem to be solved. You just keep moving. Battat is constantly moving.
It started off small, then built up overtime. He'd be ironing Tenna's suit and start to space out, head and legs feeling entirely weightless. It was like gravity was pushing down on him, forcing him still, huching over the ironing board. If he wasn't working on something, he would have to try not to fall asleep.
He tried to eat while on break, but could barely get anything down before he felt nauseous, and his sides were stabbed with sharp pains. He stayed on his feet for most of the day, but even walking was a struggle the more he did it. He was slow, constantly stumbling, the muscles in his legs tensed when he'd lean too far, or put too much pressure on them. When he distracted himself with one specific task, his eyes would unfocus. He felt like he was losing control.
Even Tenna noticed it by now, which was never a good sign. He was sort of lingering over the Pippins, and already checked on him once. When filming was done, when he finally had the chance to sit, his whole body slumped down again, sliding in his chair a bit.
“Mike, are you sure you're alright? You, uh, haven't looked at me in a real long time!” Tenna suddenly asked, forcing Battat to actually focus on what he was saying.
“Uh- I haven't?” he choked out, trying to breathe. His heart was pounding all of the sudden, even though he was just sitting and talking.
“Sorry, boss. I'm fine, really. Think I just need some water.” His hands were trembling ever so slightly when he connected his fingers together. He felt one of Tenna's hands on his shoulder, looking down at him in earnest. It made Battat shiver.
“Don't push yourself too hard, Mike! You're my star assistant, after all! Why don't you take the rest of the day off?”
Well, he's never offered THAT before, so something is definitely wrong. Maybe not just with Battat, honestly. Tenna is never this nice with anyone.
“No, no! I can still work, boss! Honest! Just give me a sec!” He was frantic, trying to sit up and leave before Tenna could object, and he could feel something almost pull in his thigh - which caused him to jolt forward, almost falling. He clung to the arms for balance, feeling the pitiful look from above him.
“...Mike--”
“I'll be back!!” he announced to almost everyone in the studio, and bolted. Which was a terrible idea, in all honesty. His head was almost litterally spinning around, a light buzz forming in his skull that matched his legs.
He only felt burning pain, or a heavy numbness. All over his body. It was agony. He could pinpoint it and describe it in every single location. And he had no idea why, or how to fix it.
Running to the changing room, catching his breath, he had to come to terms with the situation in front of him.
He couldn't continue the day like this. He still had at least two hours of work left. Tenna would just keep worrying about him, or he'll blow up because Mike was so slow and stupid and lazy that he took him out of a good mood.
He'd go home. Lay down. Maybe fall asleep for a bit. Half and hour at most. And go back. He'd feel better by then, surely.
For now, he's just gonna sit here. And do nothing. Because that's a lot easier. Aside from the slight tilt to the side he was naturally doing. And his legs feeling like putting his fingers through a bucket of sand.
Being able to slip the giant, stuffy mask off was a huge plus. He hated wearing that thing. The air was so much easier to breathe in, slowly and intentionally. The numbing buzz was still inside of his head, but it began to quiet. As a force of habit, he starts picking at the skin on his wrist. His fingers cramp slightly, and he pinches harder.
After a while, he finally pulls out his phone and began relaying his message to the others, ignoring his usually strict tone and sentence structure just so he would have enough time and energy to explain himself. He didn't trust himself to talk too long when he could barely stand up right. Not to mention, the bright light from his phone was giving him a headache.
It wasn't long until he got a response, and his heart rate spiked extremely. That was...not what he wanted to hear.
Jongler was being weird and worrying about him too much again, and because of that, everything he was feeling before started to heighten. Especially his dizziness. Frantically, he responded with half-closed eyes in the hopes of clearing up the situation, all while trying to switch out of his damn suit.
He felt a warm shiver spread throughout his entire body, the same two thoughts replaying in his head over and over.
Don't pass out.
Don't let them see you like this.
C'mon, snap out of it, damn it!
Suddenly, his phone went off again.
...Fuck.
He had to get out of here. He wasn't going to get dragged home by Pluey like some helpless child. He didn't need it. This was so unnecessary.
As soon as he sent the last few texts, he let his phone drop to the floor. He couldn't be bothered to carry it anymore.
He's not that far, he can just--
Nausea filled his throat, and he was forced to swallow. As soon as his tie came off, he limped forward slightly. Like every bit of energy was sucked out of him, and he couldn't move. He'd have to go really slow if he wanted to stay on his feet. Which was kinda hard to do when his hands were shaking, and his heart was beating a mile a minute. His mind was blank with a feeling of static.
He could do it, though. It was looking better than any other alternative right now. He shook off his suit jacket, little by little, until it fell to the floor. Since there was just a white shirt underneath, what he usually wears anyway, he decided to ignore it and just put his poncho on. Which, thankfully, didn't require much movement.
He shoved his costume inside of its usual hiding spot, and left. As he walked, he heard Tenna's voice in the distance.
“Oh, there you are, Mike! You're looking better already!”
“Uh! Yeah! Hiya, boss!” Jongler awkwardly greeted, and he sighs in relief. Least they listened to that part. With Mike back in the picture, he didn't have to rush anymore. It's best not to keep Tenna unsupervised for too long.
Everything faded around him as he made his way home. It was his only thought, aside from trying to stay steady, but he was doing alright. Almost halfway there, by this point.
And he still hasn't seen any sign of--
“...(｡· v ·｡) ?”
-
Pluey was looking for Battat pretty aimlessly. At first, he asked Tenna where Mike went, and he said that he was most likely by the water cooler. Nope. Then based on his texts, they wanted to go to the changing room, but didn't want to barge in there and startle him while in a vulnerable position. So they waited a few minutes, said something outside the door, and got no response.
...Okay, maybe he was home by now, they thought. But they checked, and he wasn't. They asked Jongler if they'd seen him at all, and they said no. At this point, they were internally panicking. Which maybe wasn't perfectly logical, but Battat made it very easy for people to worry about him. And even then, he was a lot more blunt than this. At least if it was a physical problem, which it seemed like it was.
He said he was going to let them in from now on. He said he wasn't going to lie anymore. Maybe this was an attempt at trying, but it still scared them that he didn't want their help at all. How easy he slipped into his extremely guarded mindset. How the last few things he could bring himself to say while, in whatever situation he was in, was all work related.
...They'd talk about it later. Right now, they just want him home. So they went out to the studio again, faster this time, to look more thoroughly.
They didn't get far before they were standing face to face. Despite the lack of visible injuries, Battat looked absolutely miserable, somehow pale in the face even when it was naturally pure white, eyes dull and threatening to close, walking almost zombie-like.
At the very least, he was alive. Pluey fought the urge to squeeze the life out of him right then and there. It probably wouldn't be very helpful. Still, they smiled wide, and Battat froze.
“I told you not to--” He tried to scold them, but his voice was so groggy, and barely audible. Pluey took a careful step forward, and he stopped.
It was like approaching a skittish cat. They had to be very calculated with their movements, and even more clear with their intentions. Slowly, they held their arms out, parallel to each other, and placed them gently on Battat's shoulders. He instinctively started to lean forward into their touch. That wasn't a good sign.
Then, Pluey moved down his arms until they took a hold of both his hands, looking at him with a worried yet sympathetic expression. With that, his own started to soften into more of a guilty one. He seemed to get the message.
I want to take you home.
Let me help.
It's okay.
One hand links to theirs. The other lets go.
Wordlessly, he starts to follow, leaning on Pluey ever so slightly for support.
-
The rest of the journey was a blur, but Battat made it home safe. Not that he ever doubted that he would, but it seemed to be enough for Pluey to worry. A lot. He was taken gently to the couch, where he could lay down. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he'd rather be moving or still. It felt bad either way. But Pluey probably wouldn't let him get up if he tried.
...Now that he thought about it, he won't be able to try very hard at all right now. It already felt like he was being pushed into the cushions. But maybe that was for the best.
Due to both of their limited vocabulary, nobody said much about the situation. All Battat could get out was that he didn't feel well, described it as "heavy," and Pluey accepted that for now. They got him a glass of ice water (with a straw, in case he had trouble drinking it,) and set it in the table in front of him. He had rejected the offer for food, though. Maybe he'll eat later.
“...Sorry for worrying you.” He eventually said, pathetically turning to his side and attempting to reach the water with one hand before he decided to just sit up instead. “Didn't mean to sound so cryptic. I was, um.” He pauses, realizes that saying something like 'on borrowed time' in front of an already anxious Pluey was a bad idea.
“...Really out of it, I guess.” He finishes, and Pluey simply shook their head, sitting on the couch next to him, within reasonable distance. They were messaging Jongler privately to reassure them that he was okay, and they seemed equally as relieved.
“I just need a second before I go back out there.” He eventually added. Bad idea.
“(ㆆ_ㆆ)”
Direct translation: What.
Battat blinks, confused. “My shift isn't done yet.” Explaining that apparently very obvious and rational thing also didn't help, “I can't just make Jongler do all that extra work for nothing.”
'For nothing,' he says.
Yeah, Pluey REALLY didn't like that.
They put their hand on his shoulder with a firm grip, giving a strained smile that Tenna would give when he was being passive aggressive, or about to kill somebody on set.
“(ᵕ—ᴗ—)”
Direct translation, again: No.
Thankfully for both of them, Battat was too exhausted to argue, much less find out whatever was going to happen if he did, so he immediately gave it up.
“Um, okay.” He decided to distract himself by finishing his water, and Pluey's bright and innocent smile returned. When he laid back down again, Pluey was still watching his every move. They were so worried, it was just stressing him out more.
None of this would have happened if he didn't make such a big deal out of it. If he just finished his shift, if he came home without a fuss, if he didn't feel like this at all - if he didn't let himself become so unbearably weak. So weak that he couldn't express any of this out loud.
So, instead, he'd save it for later.
For now... He might as well use some of his remaining strength to comfort the friend he put in this position. He tapped his leg, beckoning them to come closer, and they could barely hold in their excitement as they laid on top of the Pippins' chest. This added weight, unlike the one he was already feeling, was actually quite grounding. Very warm.
“Thank you. I love you.” He managed to mumble, rubbing their back, and the other began to purr. Which unintentionally helped him drift off into a light sleep that the other would join.
Jongler came back a little while later, simply saying that they were happy Battat was okay, and to let them know if he needed anything. While also insisting that they didn't care that they had to take over on such short notice, that they are very happy he asked for help when he did, to not feel ashamed about it. He agreed, despite knowing he would anyway, and silently appreciated the lack of overwhelming questions from them. Which he knew was an intentional choice on their part.
Jongler and Pluey both made him feel very cared for in this moment, putting their fears aside to watch over him. Feeling any fear at all. He wasn't sure how to react to it, but he'd return the favor when he felt good enough to. Which was definitely not now, considering he stayed on the couch for the rest of the day and needed help relocating to the bed when it was time for that.
He would talk about what happened more, if he knew what was going on at all, but he didn't. And that was the most frustrating feeling in the world. But he'd figure it out, somehow. The others were here to help him with that. Even though he ended up fine, even though he insists that it's not the end of the world, the idea of them not showing up when they did gave him an unshakeable fear in the back of his mind, just because he didn't know what would've happened otherwise. He's becoming more and more dependent on them, and it feels wrong, but it hasn't hurt him yet. He was praying to the heavens for a solution now, rather than later.
Maybe he should take the next day off, after all. Everyone seems to be in agreement on that, for once.
...Actually, it's probably not up to him anymore.
Oh well.