Work Text:
Boss was still yelling.
Usually, when the Boss yelled, it was directed at someone, or something. Like that corkboard he looked at every so often. A stack of paperwork another gave him. Sometimes, he even yelled in his dreams. …Maybe the Boss yelled more often than he thought.
Still, he practically hurled his costume head across the room (the little secret side hall they used to hide or get dressed or some other things) to the point where it hit the wall with a dull thud. Unless he was in a panic trying to get dressed, he usually was a lot more gentle with the stuff. Didn’t want to break it. That sorta thing. So to say it was startling was an understatement.
The Boss (or, this boss, anyways; the Zapper called a lot of folks ‘boss’) almost seemed sick. They sent their coworker, who now seemed to go by Pluey, out to the TV Darkner, but even now the dice-headed Darkner kept saying stuff like, “Stupid”, “Why”, “Idiot”, over and over as he paced around the room. He hadn’t even continued taking off his Mike costume: he just kept hobbling around in circles with those much bigger fake feet and padded suit he had, barely watching where he was going. They only had a fraction of an idea what the Pippins was thinking about, but…
There was another problem.
They, the large Zapper thinking all this? They weren’t very good with this complicated stuff, by their own internal admission. They didn’t think themselves *dumb*, despite all the stuff the Boss said when he was upset. Lots of folks had insulted their more considerate and thoughtful nature, since it apparently got in the way of work a lot and what was asked of them. Timing stuff out, knowing what to say, figuring out the big details…just wasn’t really their thing, apparently. But they *wanted* to say something. A lotta different stuff just happened between the bosses, the one with the TV head, the blue-haired one, and this Boss too, and they only caught a fraction of it, yet…they’d heard enough.
“Hey, Boss.” The remote spoke up, bouncing a little as they talked, as they normally did. Their pointer-shaped head bounced a little left and right.
…Boss didn’t hear them speak. He’d even kicked the microphone-shaped costume piece, seemingly not even registering it. Ah, now the bigger of the two realized what Boss was saying now: those were expletives. Or, substitutes of them, anyways, no doubt being said instinctually after training to be like the Family-Friendly Mike that Mr. Tenna wanted.
The Zapper touched a button on their chest, not even realizing the clothing layers that were on top of it they usually so loathed. The button made a clicking noise, and their voice raised in volume. It wasn’t something they liked doing too often. “Boss.” They repeated, louder this time.
That was enough to startle the Pippins. Boss’s head span around more than 360 degrees, shaking all over like he was stuck in a game of Apologies or that thing at the Casino Board. His eyes snapped to the Zapper’s head. With words on his tongue and mind interrupted, it was pretty clear what they spat out next was just a snap decision. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”
A sense of indignance. Shame. Anger. Sadness. It all welled up within the remote. They rubbed their gloved thumb against their own hand, and tapped another button. Volume down. They didn’t respond.
And the Pippins didn’t either. He held his anguished face’s expression, brows knit, eyes aflame, basking in the intensity of the situation. But, then, his eyes broke contact. His shoulders quivered. Their brows knit even harder to the point they were practically touching, and their lips were pursed. His white-gloved fingers, already curled like claws, kneaded and buried into his palms. Even while Boss was disguised, the Zapper could see just how distressed they were.
The Boss saw right through lip service, so whatever the Zapper was going to say, he had to mean it. And they meant this.
“Thanks, Boss.”
“...Huh?”
Indignance and guilt that had painted his die was already giving way to confusion, muddlement. The corners of his mouth were twitching, wanting to react but finding difficulty saying anything.
The bulky costumed Zapper hated seeing their Boss like this. They even got him a special chair so he could relax some, but it only seemed to help so much, and it certainly wasn’t helping now.
The Zapper leaned forward, then back. They raised their arm to their own shoulder, and lowered it back to their side, trying to ground himself in his thoughts. They were trying to formulate the words better in their head, but they kept speaking after a second.
“You told Tenna about how bad he was yelling and working us ‘til we were outta charge. Even dough you were Mike. And it meant a lot to me. So, I’ms saying thanks.”
The dark hallway went quiet again. The brightly lit green room of Mike’s was only giving so much light from here, but the Zapper had their spine straight and their back firm as they spoke, full of intent, and they could clearly see just how big the Pippins’s pupils were, and how much they quivered.
Finally, the shorter of the two let out a sigh, one that seemed to drain him of energy. The Boss turned around, his back facing the wall, and they slumped against it with a thwap. His gloved hands met the sides of their face, trying the press into the plastic in vain.
“Why’d I do that? I’m such a *dunce*.” He cried, throat sounding slightly hoarse. His teeth were grit, and the remote was sure he wasn’t looking at anything at particular.
‘Don’t say that. You ain’t an dunce, Boss.’ ‘Boss, you aren’t lookin’ too hot.’ ‘It’ll be alright, Boss.’
These were all things the Zapper wanted to say, but wasn’t sure how. Not in some eloquent manner. But the Boss had already begun rambling again. So, instead, they decided, they’d be the Mike who listens. Just for a lil’ bit. They might not be very good at it, but maybe lettin’ out was what was good. Maybe it’d be something Mike’d do. So they’d do it for him: just listen. They sat down too, right next to the Boss, rear touching the cool floor, taking off the hat they were waiting: a classic brown cowboy one, their favorite.
One white-gloved hand of the Pippins had already found its way to the round side of their own costume, while the other continued to dig into their own cheek. “I just… I’m horrified! I’m excited! My heart won’t stop pounding!” As if to accentuate this fact, they rapped a hand against their red bow over and over. …They weren’t stopping. The Zapper decided to scoot their left hand near Boss, placing it on the floor an inch or two away from the Pippins’s leg. It wasn’t a verbal command or detailed contract, but it was a way to offer some kind of touch. And the Zapper didn’t really like touch too much, but maybe the Boss needed it.
“I just… How could he threaten me? Everyone? And I gave in! I just… and what he said was so sad! Did I just…do it for Mike? Get more Mike info? Oh my world, what he said was crazy! Did you hear what he said!?”
He was shaking again. The Zapper called out to him. “Boss.”
“And you just, you see how Tenna gets! He gets sad all the time! I’m not— are we responsible for him? Maybe I want to be??? Who knows!?” He threw his hands up in mania. The Zapper decided to discreetly hit a button on his chest, dimming some of the lights, reducing the visual intensity of the hallway some more. He even started playing the little music they had decided to play on the speaker sometimes, at a really low volume.
“And I said all that! Mike said that! Mike! The guy he’s counting on! He’s counting on us, and I spit in his face, and…! It felt good??? And I hated it??? I just…I just should have committed! Give him the massage and send him away, or quit right there?
I! DON’T KNOW!” He was screaming, entirely wrung up.
The Zapper covered what acted as their ears. Their own heart was pounding too, the lights of their buttons flashing in panic. Boss was getting scary. He was rambling about Tenna now. The Boss had a lot of feelings and thoughts about Tenna, a lot of them bad, but a lot of good stuff, too. Maybe some of the most he’d ever heard. All that pressure Mike and Tenna had, all that pressure their Boss was having right now… Maybe it was something everyone had in common.
The Zapper realized they couldn’t be the Mike who listens anymore. Pluey had it rough, and he wasn’t here. The fact there wasn’t a Mike who listened right now, a proper Mike, it frightened the remote a lot, but, right now they were going to be the muscle, and get through this their way.
They spoke up.
“Boss! It’s gonna be okay. You ain’t a dummy. A lot happened. And you were putin’ so much aside for so long. And you’se got us a new contract. Nothin’s worth needin’ to get you upset. We can go. Get outta here. Fer good.”
The Boss blinked. Slowly, like a weight was put on them, and the lifter was drained of energy.
Apparently, Boss’s eyelids felt heavy. He closed them, and practically sank into the floor. “Oh, jeez. I’m just… I’m *sorry*. I’m so, so sorry…”
As the Pippins slid a bit more against the wall and some of their back touched the floor, one gloved hand met with the Mike Dressed as a Cowboy’s. Neither of them pulled the hands away. They left them right there.
“It all, meant a lot to me too. You, you *do* know I would’ve, you know. I wouldn’t have sent you away! I, really do like having you around. And, I really appreciate you got me that chair, and that drink. And, I just… I can’t not be Mike. And I like it. And…”
“Just take a breath, boss.”
“...
Right. Right.” A nod, with brows settling more comfortably.
“I just..don’t know. I don’t want to throw what we got away. And, I don’t know how I…feel???” He gestured towards the floor to emphasize his point, “About all that happened.”
“You hate not knowin’.” The Zapper observed, their pointer shifting a little, left and right.
The Pippins croaked a little, shoulders slumping, six-sided face lowered. “Ha! …Yeah.”
The bulky Darkner tilted towards the left, and offered: “...A lot happened, Boss. I dunno what I’d do, either. You’se get that? I guess…maybe it's okay you don’t know?”
The Boss’s eyelids opened farther apart from one another. For a moment, his green eyes stared at nothing in particular. The next, they were looking at his coworker, and then, they were looking down at himself, still in his wide, circular costume to resemble a well-suited microphone man.
“...Okay.”
The two sat in silence in the darkness, hands still touching, just barely illuminated by the dimmed lights of the next room. They had a gentle hum that was even more faint at this distance. The music the cowboy costume’d had put on was still playing, taking the place of grey noise, and he realized the Pippins had closed their eyes, and was steadily breathing, in and out. The remote decided that maybe everything’d work out fine. Just keep doin’ their best. Yeah. That sounded okay. The red bulb atop their head glowed a little.
It wasn’t an immediate reaction, but, eventually, Boss opened one eye, looking at their coworker, and then, the other eye, turning their head.
“...Why are you still dressed up?”
“Huh?”
The Pippins pointed right at the other Mike’s bulging chest. “You even got your bow on this time. You *always* want get out of the stuff quick. Despite *you* being the one to come up with it.”
The Zapper tilted what constituted their head downwards. “Oh yeahs.” They didn’t like clothes very much. They liked the swanky look, but having to wrap everything up, buttons, pointer, gloves and all… Felt too tight. But the Boss and their Shadowguy friend said it ‘wasn’t bad’, which made him them all the more proud of it. They must’ve just forgotten how tight it was that moment. Huh.
“Jeez.” Boss rolled his eyes, which was a good sign. He began to stand up, and, therefore, so did the remote, doing so in one hop. “I guess I’m glad *‘Pluey’s’* got good stamina in the costume so we won’t need any emergency switches. It’s like an oven in mine. I swear, that guy…
Here, I’ll help you get this off, come on. We’ve got to make sure it’s all straight for next time.”
That made the Zapper a little confused, but also grateful, too. Boss really was an attentive sort, huh. They dutifully bent their large upper torso forward a little, letting the Pippins grab onto their bow and carefully untie it. A pull here, through this loop…
“Hey Boss.”
“Yeah?”
“So if he’s Pluey, can I’s be Jongler?”
“Wh-” The Pippins stomped his foot on the ground, and what felt like a puff of smoke came from his mouth in indignation. “Are you KIDDING ME?! There’s no way— You *do* realize you’ve got to go by Mike in costume, right?! If we call ourselves the names of the games, it’ll be, I mean, we’re not…!”
The Pippins stopped to look at ‘Jongler’ more carefully.
“Ugh! Fine, I’ll *think* about it!”
Jongler squirmed and bounced happily, taking off those big gloves of theirs as the Boss finally undid their bow.
“Okay! How boutz I treat ya to lunch, Battat? I’ll get ya another green drink.”
“Would you stay still? And don’t call me— Ugh, alright, fine! I’ve gotta take a break and write what Tenna said down! … And let’s just make sure that drink’s not acid this time, okay?!”
He probably thought the Zapper didn’t hear it, but they just barely heard Boss mutter a single, “Thanks.”
If Jongler had a face, they would be grinning from ear to ear.