Chapter Text
“I’d even take that little mailman…”
Wait. What?
Spamton acted before he thought. Something about this scenario triggered multiple memories at once. He remembered Tenna’s look of desperation the day he left. He remembered the words “it won’t be us” leaving his lips. He remembered the voice of his benefactor on the phone. And he shoved all of that aside for a moment.
Even… me? After… everything…?
Spamton was instantly transported back to the person he was before he had left. Memories of comforting Tenna during difficult times seemed to dissolve all the worries and the heartache. Even after all this time, Tenna was still thinking about him—and he didn’t even know he was there. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself corporeal again, drifting out of Kris’ pocket and moving to stand before Tenna.
He looked up at him. He shook from head to toe as the gravity of what he was about to do slowly sunk in. And, without thinking of the consequences, he started to speak.
“[Trash heap]!” he cried in a voice not quite his own. “YOU KEPT IT!!! YOU REALLY DO CARE!!!”
Tenna turned to look at him.
***
Spamton had grown to like it at the Dreemurr household.
It was ironic, really. After everything, he had, ultimately, taken Tenna’s place. The major difference was that most of the people he knew from TV World, and those that he knew from Cyber City for that matter, had gone to live in Castle Town. The only real exception was Ramb, but they didn’t spend much time together. That seemed to be for the better.
Spamton had mostly moved on with his life and was enjoying a quiet pseudo-retirement, sending out his spam emails every so often in a noncommittal way. It seemed he’d finally achieved a version of the freedom he’d longed for. He no longer felt the need to pursue business transactions or contracts. After helping the Lightners and after having finally fulfilled his role as a Darkner, for the first time in his life, he finally understood what Tenna had been talking about during their time together. He understood the feeling of fulfilment Tenna had gotten in his life as the family’s TV.
He kind of liked the comings and goings of Kris’ room, as well, and he had grown fond of them. In fact, this was another one of Tenna’s quirks that Spamton had finally gained a full understanding of. He felt like a distant uncle of sorts—much like how he felt about Noelle. Every so often, he would take the door to Cyber City and travel to Noelle’s computer, too. She was still the only one who paid him much mind, so he’d occasionally send her game codes. They didn’t work well, but, being that she was a glitch hunter, she enjoyed them, nevertheless.
Yes, Spamton had made himself quite at home in Kris’ room. Which was why it was such a surprise when, one day, Kris printed off one of his emails, folded it up in an envelope, and sealed it.
“You’re coming with me,” Kris said.
Spamton, being a mere letter in an envelope in that form, couldn’t do anything, but he was confused. He protested, though Kris didn’t hear.
“How dare this [little sponge] put [silly strings] on me AGAIN,” he shouted, though nobody could hear him. From within the Dark World, because he was confined in an envelope, he appeared to be in the back of a windowless van with a hidden driver. It would have been unnerving, but being that it was Kris doing it, it felt to Spamton like more of a prank.
“Back in a bit, Mom. Just taking a walk,” Kris called as they moved through the kitchen.
“All right, dear. You have a nice time,” Toriel, who was in the middle of baking a pie, called, giving Kris a little peck on the cheek as they passed.
Kris exited their home and walked down the street, then turned left when the road branched. They were actually heading for their father’s neighbour’s house—a funny little house that slumped like it wasn’t fully material. They knew this to be Napstablook’s house, where they lived with their two cousins. It was one of those cousins that Kris was there to see.
They knocked on the door. “It’s Kris,” they called.
“Oh! Do come in, darling,” came a voice from within.
Kris swung the door open and was met with a modest living room—sparsely furnished with a couple of chairs and a sofa, and a similarly sparse kitchen that joined. A white ghost with pronounced black eyelashes and a little swoop of hair covering one of his eyes stood in the entry, wearing a smile on his face.
“So you said you wanted to… visit your old TV?” the ghost said with a curious smile.
“Yes, if that’s all right,” Kris replied.
Kris was led down a hallway lined with four doors—one at the end of the hall, two on the left, and one on the right. The ghost opened the door to the right and led Kris into a room which was pink from top to bottom. Clearly the ghost’s bedroom, it featured a pink bed and wallpaper to match, covered in stars. A little pink rug lay in the middle.
There, in the corner, was Kris’ old CRT television on a pink stand next to a sleek black and blue keytar on its own stand and a sticker-covered pink karaoke machine.
Kris approached the TV with a warm smile and ran a hand across the top of the screen.
“Hey, Tenna,” they said. “Miss you! I get the feeling I’ve got somebody with me who misses you more, though…”
Carefully, Kris took the email out of the envelope and slid it under the bottom of the TV so that it was fully out of sight. They tapped the top of the screen again.
“Seeya around,” they said.
Kris left the room, waving to the ghost on their way out.
“KRIS!! KRIS!! No—[nooooooooo]!! Get back here you [bargain bin soup ladle]!!” Spamton sputtered, frantic. He hadn’t been sure if the “seeya around” had been intended for him or for Tenna, but he knew for sure that Kris had done this with intent, and they were leaving him there—alone and in a brand new Dark World. The windowless van had dumped him out and driven off—seemingly all in the middle of an auditorium.
Which was very pink.
There were some familiar echoes of a place Spamton once knew hidden in this pink palace. From where he was standing in the back of the auditorium, he saw a red carpet that was actually a deep, dusky rose, leading onto a stage. The stage was unlit, save a couple of stage lights, with sweeping velvet curtains in the same shade of rose as the carpet. Stage lights, spot lights, and mic stands were placed haphazardly, as if they could be moved at any time. The auditorium itself was empty, except for a couple hundred unoccupied chairs, and the entire audience area was unlit. The stage, the carpet, the auditorium, all led Spamton to one horrifying conclusion.
“Oh my God, I’m in [Trash heap]’s new [crib]… I need to [ESC],” Spamton said frantically, his eyes darting around the room.
He spun around and ran right into the legs of a very tall man.
“Ow!”
“Oh! I’m so sorry, darling,” came the voice the legs belonged to. “Are you quite all right?”
I’m going to install malware on Kris’ computer, so help me, Spamton thought as he looked up—way up.
“Let me turn on the lights so we can see what we’re doing…” the man said, moving over to the wall, where he flipped a few switches and illuminated the auditorium. Spamton could finally get a good look at the person he was speaking to.
Like everything else Spamton had seen in this Dark World thus far, the man he was speaking to was very pink, and he absolutely towered over Spamton—probably close to Tenna’s height. He was slender, even gangly, almost, but he carried himself with a certain elegance that offset this. He was very pretty—he had a head of short, curly black hair, a pair of huge blue eyes lined with long lashes, and a pair of very plush, full lips. On his right cheek was a blue star, and on his left, a green heart. He wore a short, strapless, sparkly blue dress with coloured pink, green, and yellow squares, and a pair of tall black high heeled boots. Each shoulder had a heart and star that corresponded to the ones on his cheeks. And, on his slender hands, he wore long, sleek black gloves.
“Oh! What a cutie!” he said as he leaned down to peer at Spamton. “Well, I mean… in your way.”
“Haha, [what? What??]” Spamton replied. He felt a little annoyed. His speech only really seemed to glitch like that when he was stressed or excited these days, and he certainly was not the latter.
“Just… thinking out loud. So! What’s your name, darling? What do you… do?”
“I’m a bit of a [every buddy’s favourite number one salesman 1997],” Spamton spat out. He laughed loudly and slapped a hand over his mouth. “[No No No] [N] NOBODY! [bit of a Nobody] at all! Hah!”
“Bit of a nobody, you say? Why, darling, you’ll fit right in here,” the tall pink man giggled. “Let me introduce you to Ten—“
“EAHEAAAHAH! HAH! Noooo. Haha. No no that won’t be [need to]!” Spamton all but yelled, waving a hand. “Do you have a [discount computer sectoon] that I can [Netscape Navigator] my way to?” He threw on an award-losing smile. The tall man slowly blinked his massive blue eyes, his long eyelashes fluttering like butterflies. He straightened and leaned back, touching a gloved hand to his lips in contemplation.
“Well… yes, if you leave the back of the auditorium here, you’ll find the little… computer hub, just a short walk away, darling. But why ever go there when there’s so much fun to be had here? We’re just getting set up for our show!”
“…Show? What kind of show?”
“Tenna and I host a variety hour with LOTS of music and dancing! I’m sure you’ll love it!”
Spamton stared up at this tall man and felt the all too familiar sensation of his stomach plummeting.
“Oh! I’m Stevie, by the way.” He stooped low and planted a little kiss on either side of Spamton’s cheeks. “Tenna is my business partner and co-host. I do hope you come back!”
If Spamton felt his stomach plummeting before, it was somewhere under the floorboards now.
Business partner? He thought about the type of business partners he and Tenna had been back in the day—how they had gone from a professional partnership, to walking down the aisle together on a stage much like this one. He looked up at Stevie and wondered what kind of business partnership he and Tenna had?
“Stevie, you’re wanted in makeup,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice came over the PA.
“Time for me to scoot, darling. Please do come by later, won’t you?” He blew a little kiss and made for the stage, walking in an elegant stride.
I’m going to hire 50 Ribbicks to go clog the fan in Kris’ computer, Spamton thought as he turned and walked out of the vacant auditorium through the back door.
A shining pink pathway with shimmering, shifting star symbols embedded into it stretched out in front of him. He put his hands in his pockets and started walking. A few little shops and houses lined the glitzy pathway, each one a varying shade of pink. Taking his gaze back toward the shimmering pathway before him, he saw it end at a small white hub in the distance. He assumed that was what Stevie had referred to, and he made his way toward it.
“[Finally!] something that isn’t [#FFC0CB],” he commented.
It appeared the hub was an apartment building. Though it was white on the outside, it was anything but plain. Looking closer, the building was lined with pale pink wires and the white of the building had a sheen of stars that shifted, much like the pathway did. A simple white sign hung over the white double doors, reading in flowing black script, “Desktop Estates”.
Spamton pushed past the white double doors and was met with a white-walled lobby. He saw a reception area with elevators on either side, and there was a small restaurant with a bar carved out. It was rather open-concept, and the restaurant had no customers visiting at the time.
This was a relief. If he didn’t see anybody, nobody could recognize him. If nobody recognized him, they couldn’t rat him out to Tenna.
“Can I help you, sir?” came a voice. Spamton looked over and saw a Plugboy standing behind a reception desk.
“Ha-ha-ha-hey! Yes, can I [get a room] here? Or something?” Spamton asked. The Plugboy picked up a clipboard and peered at it.
“Looks like we’re full right now, but I’m sure we could arrange something in a day or two,” he replied.
“Great! I’ll just sleep in [a Goddamn garbage can],” Spamton muttered in reply.
“S-sir?”
“S-sorry, [The Force] of habit,” Spamton laughed, waving his hands. “Uhh. What’s a [business loving businessman] to do for work around here, anyway?” he asked. The Plugboy looked him up and down.
“Maybe you’d be better suited for TV?” he suggested.
“WHY. WOULD YOU EVER. SAY THAT?” Spamton said loudly through clenched teeth. The Plugboy took a step back.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said. Spamton ran a hand through his hair.
“S-sorry, I’m just… [News] here. And I’m a little… [distressed jeans],” he said, exhaling slowly.
“We’re about to close up for the next hour or so, anyway,” the Plugboy shrugged.
“What [wh4t]?! Why would you [doing that]?” Spamton said incredulously. The Plugboy smiled a little.
“Well, it’s almost TV Time! Everybody leaves to go watch TV Time when it’s on.”
“Everybody?!” Spamton cried, even more incredulousy.
“Everybody,” the Plugboy assured him. “So, if you want something, you’ll have to come back after. But you really should come watch! Mr. Tenna is just so dreamy!” He sighed deeply.
“Don’t I know it,” Spamton muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“[WHATT]?”
It seemed that, as usual, Spamton’s fate had been decided for him. He couldn’t believe his awful luck.
He watched as employees clocked out and left the building. He watched as gaggles of occupants arrived from the elevators on either side and moved out of the building toward the pathway, chatting excitedly among themselves.
“What did you say your name was?” asked the Plugboy. “I’ll put you down for a room, but no guarantees it’ll happen before tomorrow evening. Do you know anybody here that you could stay with in the meantime?”
“N-not as such,” Spamton replied. “Anyway, I’m uhh. [Call me~] Mr. Nobody,” he added. The Plugboy laughed incredulously.
“Is this a joke?” he asked. This reaction confused Spamton.
“[N], no,” he said.
“Give me your real name,” the Plugboy urged.
“Spamton G. Spamton,” Spamton grumbled.
“Name sounds familiar… anyway, Mr. Spamton, I have your name down here. Check in with us tomorrow, all right?” The Plugboy wrote Spamton’s name on the clipboard and nodded. “I’m off. I just can’t wait to see what Tenna is going to do tonight!” He quickly flipped the sign on his desk to “closed” and made his way out of the building.
In a feeble attempt to blend in with the crowd, Spamton followed not far behind the throng as they made their way back to the auditorium. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. But with nobody else around to help him figure out what was next, he wasn’t left with many options at all.
The building looked even flashier from the outside. Bright pink with a sleek black door and a paler pink sign that read “TV” in deep rose on top. Spamton couldn’t help but wonder, with a hint of irony, whether there was a backlot filled with snow, too.
He filed into the auditorium behind everybody else and found himself a seat in the back, close to the exit. He folded his arms and crossed his legs and sighed, scowling.
The auditorium was packed. It seemed every Darkner from this Lightner’s bedroom really was there to watch.
Unreal. After all these years, Captain Full-Of-Himself still draws an audience, Spamton thought.
“It’s now time for our feature presentation,” a familiar voice announced over the PA. The crowd went wild with cheers and claps.
“Coming straight from your house,” came Stevie’s sultry voice. A spotlight shone on him.
“I used to do that intro,” Spamton muttered as he watched. The Plugboy sitting next to him glanced at him and merely nodded slowly as if Spamton was insane.
Stevie did the intro, which was now, apparently, done fully live instead of recorded. There was a spotlight on a blue Darkner with ripped black jeans and a swoop of black to pink ombré hair covering one of her eyes. She held a keytar in her hands as she played a backing melody. Another Darkner was behind her on the drum kit, wearing clothing that refracted rainbows in the lights.
“Say it with him, folks!” cried Stevie into the microphone, gesturing to centre stage. The spotlight turned on.
There stood Tenna. He looked sharper than ever in a glitzy pink sequined coat, wearing a pink tie with a black ghostlike face on it, and pale pink shoes to match. His black pants had a pink trim that matched the colour of his jacket, where the “TV” pin on his breast was now glossy and black.
“Mr. Ant Tenna and Stevie Time!” he sang into the microphone he held, with Stevie on backing harmony and the keytar player playing the melody.
“Holy [$!$!], they’re still using [My Melody],” Spamton said, slapping his forehead. The Plugboy next to him scooted his chair away, scowling.
Spamton wasn’t sure how he felt anymore. Was he angry? Was he sad? Heartbroken? Betrayed? So much time had passed since he had lived with Tenna that he had hoped he wouldn’t feel anything at all, but that was certainly not the case.
Why’s he still so… Spamton tried not to finish the thought. He tried, instead, to focus on Stevie and the woman playing the keytar in the background.
This was difficult, because throughout the show, Stevie and Tenna would occasionally dance together. They were roughly the same height, so Tenna didn’t have to stoop or pick up Stevie like he used to do with Spamton.
As the show continued, Spamton started feeling a little sick to his stomach. It was far more entertaining than anything he and Tenna had done together back in the day, and the quality of the music and the costuming was remarkable, with Stevie making a few costume changes through the course of the show. Not to mention, the two looked perfect together. Spamton wondered if Tenna had finally found the equal he was looking for—especially with the way Stevie looked at him, and especially with their matching height.
What pained Spamton was that any change he noticed in Tenna was clearly for the better. He had never seen him smile so brightly. Pink suited him, too. The man looked good in anything, after all.
There must be a door to get to the internet somewhere in that hub, Spamton thought. I need to get the hell out of here. I’ll go back to Noelle’s computer if I have to. Anything but this.
The show finally ended to thunderous applause. Audience members threw roses and flowers onstage while Tenna and Stevie took a bow.
“And give it up for Trixie!” Stevie cried into the microphone, gesturing to the woman with the keytar, who gave a sassy little half smile and took a bow.
“Hey, stand up,” the Plugboy next to Spamton said, frowning at him. Spamton took a quick glance around the auditorium. It seemed he was, indeed, the only one not standing to applaud. What was more, all of the other Darkners were even standing on their chairs. He sighed and followed suit.
“Weirdo,” he heard the Plugboy next to him remark. Spamton merely smirked and shook his head.
Traded in one group of assholes for another, he thought as the Addisons’ faces flashed briefly through his mind.
He hadn’t been paying attention to the stage, distracted by the Plugboy’s commentary. His attention was brought back when he noticed a hush come over the crowd. He turned toward the stage to see what was causing it.
He hadn’t expected to see Stevie walking towards him.
“Mr. Nobody, darling!” he cried cheerfully. “You came after all!”
This is getting up there in the top ten list of the worst days of my life, Spamton thought, plastering on a smile.
“AHAHA yes hello,” Spamton replied.
“Did you enjoy the show?” Stevie asked with a sincere hope that reminded Spamton of Tenna.
Oh god, Tenna!
Spamton looked toward the stage and saw Tenna there, peering quizzically in their direction.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit—
And, as if on cue, Tenna made his way over.
Spamton thought back to the moment that he, as Kris’ glasses, formed and floated over to talk to Tenna. He thought about the moment that Tenna, who clearly hadn’t recognized him, melted down, then sprayed him with foam before leaving.
He didn’t recognize me on that day as Spamton, but he might recognize me today for that, Spamton thought in silent agony. I’m going to fill Kris’ hard drive with so many pirated movies…
“Stevie, who’s your friend?” Tenna asked with a smile that Spamton immediately recognized as polite but irritated. He had come to know so many of Tenna’s facial expressions over the time they’d been together and this was one he was intimately familiar with.
The way he looked down at Spamton made him feel a number of complex things. The man really hadn’t changed at all. But the look of unfamiliarity stung more than Spamton thought it would. Did he really look so different…?
He tried not to flinch when he watched Stevie put a hand on Tenna’s shoulder, then another hand against his chest.
“Oh, Tenna, darling! He’s new to Glamour World. I thought he might have been homeless so I invited him to come watch our show!”
“I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Tenna commented. “What’s your name?” Spamton opened his mouth to speak, but Stevie interjected.
“Oh, let’s buy him a drink, shall we?” he asked. “The poor dear is rather a lost boy, I think.” Spamton raised his hands up in defence.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he stuttered without producing any meaningful speech.
“Sure. I could go for a drink,” Tenna nodded.
Spamton self-consciously glanced around. He noticed eyes on him. When he turned, the Plugboy who’d been sitting next to him had him fixated with a look that blended shock, disgust and, Spamton thought, maybe a hint of respect. He cast a smirk of satisfaction in the Plugboy’s direction.
“Lead on,” Spamton told Stevie and Tenna.
“Oh, but we must wait for Trixie,” Stevie said with a pronounced pout.
“Of course,” Tenna agreed with a chuckle.
The group waited for Trixie to mount her instruments and she came rushing over. After brief introductions, the group was off toward the white hub in the distance.
“Sorry about the walk, darling,” Stevie said, casting a glance back at Spamton, who said nothing and merely waved his hands.
“So… is this guy another one of your ‘adoptions’, Stevie?” asked Trixie with a faint smirk in Spamton’s direction.
“Oh hush, dearest,” Stevie laughed.
“That means ‘yes’,” Tenna said with a teasing grin.
“Oh, you stop,” Stevie laughed, swatting Tenna on the arm.
Spamton felt a million miles away. How had he accidentally ended up going out for drinks with his estranged husband and his coworkers?!
He marvelled at how well the three got on together. They reminded him of Elnina and Lanino. He knew that those two were back at Castle Town, due to his adventures with Kris, and he felt a bit of relief. At least Tenna had somebody with him.
“Don’t listen to them, darling,” Stevie said, turning his head to look down toward Spamton. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are!”
This reminded Spamton of something Tenna had said to him once while they were lying in bed together. “I like you small”. While he reflected on this, Stevie interjected again, “but some sequins never hurt anybody, you know!”
“Don’t let him give you a makeover,” Trixie warned. Tenna laughed.
“Hey now, he designed my outfit,” he pointed out.
The group approached the hub at last. Tenna held the door open for the other three to enter. Spamton felt his gaze on him and glanced up. Tenna quickly looked away, smiling a little. Spamton noticed he still looked a little annoyed.
He’s on to me, Spamton thought. He filtered in nevertheless and Tenna followed behind him. The group moved into the bar, where Stevie made a surprisingly disproportionate fuss over Spamton.
“Here, darling, this is what I always get,” he said. He leaned across the bar. “Two Haunted Oases, please,” he said to the bartender.
“Whatever beer you’ve got tap,” said Trixie.
“I’ll have a whiskey, neat,” said Tenna. Spamton double took—that was his old order. Tenna always used to drink spiked soda.
Tenna noticed him staring at him and gave a bit of an uncomfortable laugh. Before any words were shared, though, the bartender placed a drink the size of Spamton’s head in front of him. It was in a fishbowl glass, and the beverage inside it faded from blue, to pink, to black. There was a fluffy ghost-shaped marshmallow on the side of the glass and a little drink umbrella stuck out of the marshmallow. This made it look like the ghost was holding the umbrella.
Spamton glanced at Stevie, who happily accepted a similar drink and sipped it. It didn’t look quite so massive in his hand.
“Would you like a bendy straw?” the bartender asked. Spamton noticed how small he was next to the other three—though Trixie was closest to his height, she still stood about two feet taller.
“Hey, I’m no [children’s programming]! This is an [adult Booster seat]!” Spamton muttered.
“Oh, but do get the bendy straw!” Stevie said, waving a hand. “Give me one, too, darling!”
“You know what? Give me one, too,” said Tenna.
“Whiskey through a straw?” Trixie snickered.
“Wouldn’t want our guest to feel singled out,” Tenna said, offering a little smile toward Spamton.
“Thanks, [Trash heap],” said Spamton. He clapped a hand over his mouth. Why can’t I say his name?!
Stevie and Trixie looked shocked, clearly taking what Spamton said to be an insult, but Tenna’s jaw dropped in realization.
“Wait a minute, I know who you are,” he said. “You’re that—“
“Mr. Spamton?” came the voice of the Plugboy receptionist. He had approached without anybody noticing.
Everybody in the group froze. Spamton felt his blood running cold. He could tell that multiple gazes were fixed on him, but he didn’t dare meet any of them. He stared straight ahead and didn’t so much as look at Tenna, Stevie, Trixie, the bartender, or the receptionist.
“Mr. Spamton, I have some good news! We managed to put a rush on your room, so it’s actually all ready for you!”
“[Great Deal], thanks,” Spamton said, merely lifting his hand in a thumbs up.
On second thought, I’m going to blow up Kris’ computer, and make sure I’m in it when I do.