Work Text:
Tap…tap…tap...
Spamton idly tapped a pen against his desk, a bored expression on his face. Above him, Tenna was rambling about the ratings of the recent broadcasts. On and on, the words scurried right past his mind like a loose Maus. “Spamton? Spamton, are you even listening to me?”
From the corner of his eye, Spamton noticed Penélope walking past his door with a stack of papers in her hands. An idea popped in his head. He jumped up, startling Tenna. “Penny, darling!”
Penélope stopped in her tracks and leaned back to peek into the doorway. “Yes, Mr. Spamton?”
Pushing past Tenna, Spamton placed a hand on Penélope’s back and herded her into his dressing room. Behind him, Tenna crossed his arms and frowned. But Spamton didn’t seem to notice. “Say, it’s been awhile since we went out on the town. Why don’t the three of us talk over dinner tomorrow? Ratings, funds, wine on me! How ‘bout it?”
“That sounds lov—”
“That’s an EXCELLENT idea, Spammy!” Tenna interrupted. Penélope narrowed her eyes at Tenna, who flashed a fanged smile at her, and she turned to Spamton.
“Mr. Spamton,” Penélope regarded the other with a polite yet stern look. “Please be punctual this time.”
Spamton smirked at Penélope with a wink, clicking his tongue and shooting finger guns at her. "Don'tcha worry, toots. I'll be there lickety-split!"
Spamton was not there lickety-split. He was not there when Penélope arrived at the Color Cafe first and was cordially led to their table by Swatch. Nor was he there when not long after Tenna sat down across from her, hunching over a bit in his seat as he looked around. The seat between them remained untouched, so empty that a loose napkin carried by the breeze outside fluttered right past before it was deftly picked up by a Swatchling and promptly discarded.
Penélope sat poised in her seat, smoothing out her skirt. She glanced over at Tenna, who had his head propped up against his elbow, his screen turned towards the door with a disgruntled look. He was wearing his usual show attire, as if he’d just left the studio recently. Penélope wouldn’t be surprised if he had, given his workaholic nature. She wanted to roll her eyes at that gaudy bright yellow tie, and his signature red coat that fit a little too well over his broad shoulders. His antennas dangled lazily above his head, occasionally twitching in agitation. The dim lighting in the cafe made the light from Tenna's screen seem brighter than usual, and Penélope could see the reflections of the colored cafe lights dance across the glass surface. Tenna’s screen turned a fraction in her direction, and Penélope quickly looked away.
While Penélope was busying herself with rearranging the napkin in front of her, Tenna tried to keep his focus on the door, but he couldn’t help but glance back at Penélope. She was dressed nicely today. The skirt she was wearing accentuated her wide hips beautifully, and her dark form-fitting blouse hugged her soft curves in all the right ways. Her hair seemed freshly curled over her soft pink ears, with the slightest hint of perfume. Even her glasses glinted under the cafe lights.
Tenna drummed his fingers impatiently. He only agreed to come because of Spamton. He cleared his throat. “Seems like Spamton’s late.”
“I'm not surprised.” Penélope spoke curtly. She sighed inwardly. If it wasn't for him, she wouldn't have bothered coming at all. “How’re the ratings?”
“They’re GREAT! How's, ah, the funding situation?”
“Fine, more or less the usual with some fluctuations.”
“Good, good.” Tenna twiddled his thumbs, before leaning in. “You could be making MORE if you worked for me too, you know.”
Penélope pursed her lips. She neatly folded her hands together and replied cooly, “Mr. Tenna, I’ve told you time and time again that my employment is under Mr. Spamton. Not you.”
“Right, but I’m just saying…”
“Mm.”
Amidst the chattering cafe goers and the flurry of colored Swatchlings bustling about, the two sat alone at their table in silence. Occasionally, one of them would look up and attempt to speak up, before changing their mind and settling back into tense awkwardness. Penélope debated if it was even worth ordering food and waiting for Spamton to arrive or to find some way to excuse herself to leave.
“Is everything alright over here?”
Penélope smiled politely. “Oh yes, we were just abo—”
Tenna interrupted her. “We’re doing just FINE, thank you Swa—”
“JUST. GIVE US. A FEW MORE MINUTES.” Penélope nearly yelled over him through gritted teeth. Her face turned pinker than usual, her hair puffing up in indignation. Tenna had to stifle a laugh.
Swatch looked between the two with a concerned look before nodding and retreating with a bow.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Tenna scoffed. He turned to Penélope, the corner of his smile twitching. “Is there a problem, dear Penny?”
Crossing her arms, Penélope sat back and huffed. “Would it hurt for you to sit back and listen for once?
“Sit back?” Tenna barked a laugh, waving his hand. “That's supposed to be MY line, sweetheart. Even with all the new-fangled technology, I know how to keep the audience glued to their seats!”
“Excuse me?” Penélope snorted. She rolled her eyes. “You’re one to talk about new tech.”
“WHAT!!!”
A bright red flash of anger flashed across Tenna’s screen. Penélope’s eyes saw through Tenna’s gloves the pinpricks of claws digging into the table, before darting back to glare back at his screen. She took in the view with relish, smug self-satisfaction settling into her like a delicious glass of wine that Spamton never brought.
“Oh, so now you hear what I’m saying.” Penélope chuckled to herself, looking down and covering her hand with a hand. “Now what was that about my employment and listening to your orders?”
Tenna growled. "I wouldn't be INSISTING that you listen to me if you weren't so PERFECT ALL THE TIME!"
Penélope’s head snapped up in shock. Tenna jumped in his seat, letting out a "Gah!" of surprise and slapping a hand over his mouth.
“Y-you…” Penelope spluttered. Her face grew warm. She leaned in, trying to keep her voice low. “You’re the one running the show! You’ve got all these Lightners that cling to your every word with your broadcasting, you have no right to complain about being perfect!”
“Because we have the FUNDING to do so!” Tenna pressed forward. “I hate your pristine management!”
“I hate your stupid smile!”
Penélope’s snout was almost pressed against Tenna’s screen now. Tenna tried to ignore the sparkle in Penélope’s furious russet brown eyes. Penélope tried not to stare at the glint of Tenna’s fangs in his scowl.
"Pardon me, are you ready to ord—"
Penélope and Tenna swiveled their heads and slammed their hands on the table. "NOT NOW, SWATCH!" they shouted simultaneously.
Feathers bristling, Swatch bowed his head and backed away.
Their chests still heaving from the outburst, the two both looked down at the table. Penélope’s hand was resting on Tenna's. They both flinched, jerking their hands away and falling back down into their seats. Penélope cast her eyes to the side, her face flushing madly. She hadn't noticed how much bigger Tenna's hands were compared to hers before. His white gloved hand had been warm to the touch, the same way a television would after broadcasting a comfort show all night to a lonely viewer. A complicated emotion stirred in her chest.
Penélope sighed and rubbed her face with a hand. “Do you wanna get out of here?”
With a jolt, Tenna broke out of his stupor of deep thought. A small smile crossed his screen. “...Yeah.”