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Countless things changed between them. Nothing had ever come easy. Life left them battered and bruised, on the brink of death in more ways than one. When the dust finally settled, rebuilding their relationship was a slow, tedious process that required more patience than either of them had ever expected to hold. Through Spamton’s outburst and Tenna’s desperation, through thick and thin, the pair managed to shine brighter at the end of the darkness than they had when they were last consumed by it.
They had grown closer. Closer than ever before. Damn near inseparable at times… They had grown kinder. Kinder than they had ever been towards one another during their roaring glory days. Even their bodies had undergone a transformation through age. Such changes went beyond the wrinkling, crookedness in posture, and fading of colors. Changes that neither thought were possible, but were content with nonetheless. Tenna grew softer…rounder around the abdomen, silicone skin generously blanketing his metal frame. His clothes weren’t as small anymore; they had grown obviously snug, and his belt failed to conceal it as the years passed him by. Spamton’s feathers regrew in spotty patches, especially upon his chest. They were nowhere near as thick and silky as the feathers adorning his body decades ago. These feathers were frail and thin, sickly in appearance by all accounts. Unkempt, no matter how much he pruned… But they were still a marvel. A wondrous sight to see. A source of hope. A light at the end of a dark, endless tunnel, not yet done with the puppet.
One thing, though, had not changed between them. Even after all these years, she remained tucked away under Tenna’s dutiful protection. That pipis, assumed to be, for a lack of a better word, a dud by her creator… That pipis that kept Tenna connected to his little mailman, even in his years of absence… That little blue pipis whom Tenna loved with his whole heart… whom he longed to see hatch and grow into the wonderful darkner he always pictured her to be, lay in a thick nest of baby blankets tucked in Tenna’s nightstand, unhatched. Unmoving. Unchanged.
.
.
.
Spamton came home in the early evening after an ordinary shift at his Big Shop in Castle Town. It was his usual time to arrive home. An hour or so before Tenna would waltz in from the studio. But something was different. Tenna’s red tailcoat rested over the top of the couch, thrown sloppily over the cushions. A pair of giant, shiny yellow shoes lay parked next to the front door. A voice could be heard coming from the bedroom. A soft voice. A soothing tone. It was undoubtedly Tenna’s. Although no matter how hard Spamton strained, he couldn’t make out the recipient of such kind words.
Cautiously, the puppet approached the ajar bedroom door and lingered by the wooden frame. Peeking in every so quietly, he observed the larger darkner sat on the floor, hunched over what appeared to be Tenna’s nightstand. Closer now, he could make out a lullaby the TV sang sweetly down at…. Her.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”
…
He still has it?
After all these years, he still has it?
A sinking concoction of guilt and dread washed over Spamton, leaving a phantom sense of sliminess lingering within his feathers.
“You make me happy when skies are grey.”
She isn’t going hatch
How does he not see that?
No matter what he does. No matter how much he loves her, that will never be enough for her to hatch.
How long is he going to hold onto her?
How has she not rotted away after all these years?
“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you…”
Spamton held his breath; the only thing grounding him was the TV’s melodious voice.
I should tell him.
Let him down gently.
Maybe then he will finally let her go.
“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
Tenna brought the little egg up to his screen and nuzzled her ever so gently. Finally, for a fleeting moment, Spamton caught a glimpse of the little thing. It was just as blue as the day he made her. She was considerably larger than the usual pipis. “Had she really been growing this entire time?” he wondered.
*Peep*
Spamton felt his soul could jump out of his skin. Tenna moved her into his line of sight once more, a flower bloomed on his nose.
“Wow! Hello there, darling! Did you want to sing with me today, hm?”
*Peep*
Eyes locked on her, Spamton felt impossibly cold. Meanwhile, Tenna was absolutely beaming up at her.
“WELL, then, my love. We can certainly duet! What will you be then? Melody? Harmony? Alto? Soprano? I HARDLY know the difference!”
*Peep*
*Peep*
“Golley! You are TALKATIVE today!”
Spamton started to back away.
I can’t do this.
I can’t watch him like this.
I shouldn’t have snooped to begin with.
“I haven’t heard you talk this much since…”
There was an audible creak from just behind the door. The loose wood had done it again. Spamton froze, posture rigid, as Tenna slowly turned and cloaked him in his natural spotlight.
“Spam!” Tenna gasped. “That explains the chirping. How long have you been standing there? When did you come home?”
Remaining cross-legged on the floor, Tenna turned his body to face him. The pipis remained cradled in his palms, now fully on display to Spamton.
“[EYE] UM. I [HALF] BEEN [Hey, I’m standing here] [$4.99] NOT LONG,” Spamton stuttered, his eyes anywhere but on her.
Tenna tilted his head in contemplation, observing his body language and coming to the conclusion, “Did you… Did you want to see her?”
Spamton recoiled slightly on himself, clenching his abdomen as if it ached. As if he wanted to vomit then and there.
“NO NO [No thank you] [CATHODE]. IM [A-okay!],” he dismissed, but his tone bled with anxiety.
“You…” the TV’s antennas drooped until they dangled in front of his screen. “You’ve never asked about her, you know. She’s been here the entire time…”
“SO? WHAT ABOUT IT?” Spamton tried to feign confidence, but his heart ached seeing Tenna so glooby.
“Well… I suppose…” Tenna sounded out of breath, at a loss for words. “I suppose I assumed you’d be at least a bit curious about her. I mean, Spam. You MADE her.”
“YEAH. [$20.99] YEARS AGO…[Keep the change].”
Tenna huffed in disappointment.
“And even after all that time she’s…. She’s still here. She. You know, she ONLY chirps when she’s around you. Spam!” Tenna’s voice grew more desperate. “She still remembers you! She LOVES you. Light above, doesn’t that MEAN something to you?”
Spamton grasped his hands, interlocking his fingers, to the point they stung under the pressure. His eyes were glued to the ground as a nagging shame loomed over him like an unwanted shadow all over again.
“You can’t honestly stand there and tell me you aren’t at least a bit attached to her.”
The puppet’s eyes began to burn. Seeing his partner slowly crumbling, Tenna swallowed the rest of his lingering thoughts before they’d chase him away. For a long while, it seemed like Tenna stared at Spamton with a wide, desperate gaze, longing for him to relent. To just admit what he refused to face. Or, at the very least, open up as to why he felt he needed to avoid his daughter for so long.
“Come hold her, Spammy,” Tenna beckoned softly, extending her towards him.
Spamton fixed his eyes on her. His pupils, visible through the dealmakers, were narrow and frantic.
“[EYE] CANT,” was all he managed to choke out.
“Why not?” Tenna asked in a soft, nonthreatening tone. As much as it could be perceived as such.
Spamton clenched his jaw and frantically tried to hold back a sniffle from escaping. He held his breath until he couldn’t any longer, the woeful noise finally slipping free and weakening the floodgates. His entire body was tense, riddled with a sickening anxiety. Paranoia circling him like a pack of hungry wolves, he squirmed as the truth curdled on his tongue, threatening to slip out.
“BECAUSE IF I…”IF [EYE] HOLD [HER] THEN I… I… I WONT BE ABLE TO LET GO.”
“BECAUSE SHES A DUD, [BOOB TUBE]. WHATS THE [Get to the point!]?” Spamton croaked.
“Then why is she so warm?” Tenna replied in a low, somber tone. “Why does she still chirp?”
Spamton’s heart nearly stopped. The CRT was right, a dud wouldn’t be warm. A dud wouldn’t sing to him. Especially not after 20 years without proper incubation.
“WHAT IF. WHAT IF I CANT LET GO? [No returns and exchanges],” the truth leaked.
Tenna perked up a little. It was an answer. A hint. A clue in the conundrum that had been missing for so long, finally realized. Now there was somewhere to start. Something to work with. Something to break past those walls Spamton had held strong for so long. Hope bubbled in the CRT’s chest. A little smile crept onto his screen.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he hummed, holding her out further when Spamton tried to make himself appear smaller once more. “Hold her. Please. Not just for her, but for me, my love.”
Spamton could not recall the last time he stood so close to her. Something rattled inside him, surging through his nerves, every internal wire, until his hands gravitated towards Tenna’s.
“Please.”
Overcome with an incessant urge, he didn’t register what he was doing until he scooped her up in his palms, and Tenna withdrew his hands. There he stood, holding her for the first time in over a decade, a sort of maternal code starting in the background of his programming.
“There you go!” Tenna encouraged in a quiet, rumbling hum.
*Peep* *Peep* *Peep*
Tenna swore he saw little stars faintly forming behind his partner’s glasses. Hopeful, curious stars tainted with… melancholy. The way he looked at her… it was like he had seen a ghost. A ghost of someone he loved dearly. Fear was expressed, but so was a yearning. A burning desire to protect. Connect. Cling to like nothing else.
To cling to it against his conscious will. Much like a new set of strings cast out from within. Ancestral strings still kicking in his corrupted Addison code.
Spamton glanced down at his own chest, his plumage peeking out slightly from the collar of his black V-neck sweater. Then he looked back at her.
Hold her.
Hold her.
Hold her.
There was no tuning it out. There was no disregarding it now. The pipis would have to shatter into a million pieces to stop the voices of instinct and…even then…what would the cost sum up to be? The outcome was not worth the price.
Spamton balanced her in one hand, his fingers gently ensnaring around the shell to keep her stable. A gentle, plastic cage. With his other hand, he pulled the collar of his sweater back, freeing the awry cluster of sickly-looking feathers collected between his pecs. Then he looked back at her. Operating completely on instinct, on a drive he had thought was long forgotten in his spaghetti code, Spamton brought the pipis level to his chest and gingerly tucked her between his feathers. A soft, low rumbling escaped the little egg the moment she settled into him. A pained expression struck the puppet.
“Cowabugadero, Spammy. I’ve never heard her do that. Not even for me.” Tenna’s voice was somber, but hopeful. Happy for Spamton. Happy for her. But hurt through a yearning that he could be what Spamton was for her. “She needs us both, love letter. Then, maybe, just maybe, she will be ready to hatch.”
Spamton took a minute to respond, overcome with racing thoughts muddied by his raging instincts to nurture this little creature. The longer Spamton took to think, the more Tenna’s expression dropped, bleeding his hope.
“SHE WILL ONLY HATCH WITH THE [Help me! It hurts!] OF A [STUPID AD],” Spamton stated blankly.
It stung to face such music, but Tenna understood. After all, Spamton was the one who made her. His code was in her code. Whatever influence Tenna had over that was presently unknown.
“[EYE]…” Spamton’s voice cracked. A thin trail of tears flowed past the dealmakers. “I CANT LET GO OF HER.”
All at once, a speeding sense of hope crashed into Tenna. His antennas fully perked up, his brightness increased, he let out a faint, breathy chuckle before a massive tear threatened to trickle free.
“Oh, come here, Spammy,” he cooed, swaying side to side, scooting closer to Spamton while maintaining his seated, cross-legged position.
Spamton had begun to recoil on himself with the pipis snug to his chest. That desire to shield his vulnerabilities raged long after his grueling fate all those years ago. To shield his tears. To hide somewhere narrow so as not to be pried out. To protect this little egg from all harm, grand or otherwise. Yet, he didn’t run. As Tenna cupped the bulk of his curled, rigid frame within his palms, he remained still, frozen. He looked to Tenna, but not up at his screen. The world grew impossibly warm as Tenna guided them from the floor and into his lap. His massive arms wrapped around the puppet, squeezing him into the plump silicone of his stomach, fitting the little darkner into him like a piece to a puzzle. Spamton felt his entire body go slack into Tenna, the pipis comfortably sandwiched between the two. The low rumbling purr emitting from within her increased in intensity.
“WHAT IF SHES A [Clever Cookie] AND CHASES THE [Heavens] LIKE ME?” Spamton croaked, tears steadily gushing down his face to be soaked into Tenna’s shirt.
“What’s the matter with that?” Tenna cooed once more.
“[SHELL] SUFFER LIKE [Yours Truly]. [EYE] DONT WANT HER TO [It hurts! It hurts! Someone help me! Please!].”
Tenna unsheathed his claws and, shifting one arm slightly, buried his hand into the puppet’s hair. Through gently stroking, opening and closing a loose fist, weaving his fingers through his wiry, jet-black hair, he scratched Spamton’s scalp. The smaller’s eyelids grew heavy, and his body somehow slacker. There was also something so soothing about this. No matter how many times Tenna would play with his hair, it was as fluttering as the very first time he ever experienced love so tender. So slow. So unconditional. No strings attached. His entire body radiated with a fuzzy warmth which radiated from his scalp and coursed through his internal wires.
“And what if she’s as hungry and hopeful as me?” Tenna proposed. “By that logic, she will end up suffering…and alone, too. Discarded in the snow after she burned down every wall built to maintain control... But you know what?” Spamton forced his eyes open, glancing up at Tenna’s screen as he spoke. “I will make sure that never happens to her. She will always have someone to fall back on, at all times, DAY or NIGHT, no questions asked.”
“WELL…” he sniffled. ” WHAT IF THIS WORLD ISNT [BIG] ENOUGH [$4.99] HER? WHAT IF THIS WORLD TARGETS HER? RIPS HER APART!?” he strained in a pleading tone, desperate to be understood.
“What if it is?” Tenna inquired. “Should we clip her wings? Lock her up? All in the name of keeping her safe?”
“NO! NO NO @#! NO THATS NOT WHAT I [Say it like you mean it]!” Spamton huffed in agitation. Peeling back slightly from Tenna with a secure grip on the pipis, he yelled, “I DONT WANT WHAT HAPPENED TO US TO HAPPEN TO HER!”
Tenna didn’t resist his attempts to move. The hand in his hair slipped free and made its way to his cheek, cupping up. Spamton’s facial expressions were visibly tense. Clenched jaw, narrow eyes. His chest was stationary as he held his breath. All in a bid to present composure. But nothing stopped those sneaky beads from slipping past the dealmakers and falling until they soaked into their clothes. Nevertheless, as Tenna traced his thumb from under the puppet’s eye to the corner of his protruding cheekbone, the strain faltered. His jaw trembled and clicked. The steady stream of tears resumed and poured like a mighty river. Spamton could do nothing to stop the dam from bursting. So, he pressed into his lover’s palm, accepted the situation for what it was. He buried his eyes in the silky, soothing comfort of his glove. His weight pushed into Tenna so heavily as he let himself lose control of his breathing.
The more he pushed and gravitated into the other’s caress; the more Tenna painstakingly pulled his hand back. Not in a bid to withdraw, but instead to guide the puppet back towards himself. So slowly that they barely witnessed movement, Spamton leaned, Tenna pulled, until the smaller darkner pressed comfortably back into his pillowy, yeilding silicone frame. Absorbed by the security, Spamton released his iron-clad grip on the pipis, allowing her to rest between them once more. Clinging desperately to the larger darkner’s shirt, Spamton sobbed. He sobbed until his chest ached. He sobbed as if he screamed up into the heavens, begging to be seen. Acknowledged. Comforted. Consumed by the light and soothed by soft assurances that he was safe, that he was heard…that he was loved.
Tenna would rub large, firm circles into his back as the smaller darkner let it all out. As he muffled his screaming pleas, caged for much too long, Tenna held him more firmly. As his body ached from exhaustion, Tenna held him upright and snug against himself. As his wailing reduced to a messy sputtering of hiccups and hitched breaths, Tenna whispered and hummed that same lullaby of sunshine softly enough for only his little love letter to hear. After every kindhearted assurance, after every caress, no matter how small, the weight holding Spamton down was gradually lifted. Rather than cling elsewhere, it faded. Dissolved into nothing. Melted by the unwavering love projected towards him.
“No matter what happens, we must trust she will fly back to us. Believe me…I’ve learned that the hard way with you, love letter.”
Spamton heard every word, but he felt with every hitch, he couldn’t quite catch his breath. His chest heaved and trembled, hungry for air, but never satiated. It became increasingly difficult to focus. His fists pulled Tenna’s shirt so tightly that the larger darkner silently worried the fabric would not return to its original shape. So, claws still bared, they slipped into the sparse feathers upon the back of Spamton’s neck. With the same firmness used back in the day when the other would regularly prune, Tenna gingerly scratched his neck. His feathers brushing against his plastic skin produced a tingling sensation that rattled through the ball joints. The itchy, minuscule piles of clustered dead plastic at the base of the feathers were worked away with every motion, satisfying an irritation that had lingered so long its removal was nothing short of euphoric. With every loving second, Spamton’s breathing slowed until it consisted of labored gasps only concerned with consuming the air his body felt starved of, and his body fell completely and utterly limp, melting into Tenna.
“I promise this to you, AND to her, right now and for as long as I roam the Dark World... I PROMISE she will NEVER feel alone; I won’t let her feel alone. She will never EVER learn what loneliness even feels like as long as I have anything to do with it! Even when she feels the weight of the world is crashing on her shoulders. Even if she feels the crippling fear from under the heavens…the strings she inherits holding her down… Even when we are LONG GONE, she will have something to hold on to. To fight for. She will be born into the light, as much of the light as we can produce for her! And may she NEVER be cast into the dark like we were.”
Tenna paused the scratching and planted his palm flat against the back of Spamton’s head.
“She will NEVER suffer as you and I did.”
For a moment, Tenna squeezed him. He squeezed him until his own arms ached. Until Spamton found his diaphragm unable to expand. But never enough to damage her, not even in the slightest. Consumed by the pressure and the everlasting warmth, a massive sigh forced its way out of the smaller’s lungs.
Tenna meant it.
He meant every word of it.
His tone didn’t leak any semblance of showmanship. No. That was passion. That was an undying passion. Everlasting, for as long as the old CRT had left. And deep down, Spamton felt it, too. That burning desire, far beyond his caretaking instincts, to protect her. To love her. To provide a life for her that he never had. To make sure she never has to suffer in order to thrive. It had been hidden deep down for so long. Too long.
She would outdo them.
She would be the best of them.
Better than them.
It’s all they could hope for her, and more.
One day, she would have to face the world alone. Death was inevitable, even for darkners. Neither of them denied such a thing. But she would have what they never had when they both were cast into the light… Security. Wits. Wisdom beyond her years. She would never be thrust into the trials they dove into to survive. Never broken and betrayed like they were. Never left wondering what love truly felt like. Never fated with a purpose to serve the Heavens.
“SHES GOING TO BE UNSTOPPABLE,” Spamton sniffled, a faint chuckle escaping him despite the tears continuing to trickle.
Tenna relaxed his arms, but continued to keep them both compressed against himself.
“You’ve got that right! Golley, do you have that right,” he chuckled softly. “I hope she’s as ambitious and as clever as you. I hope she’s as creative and stubborn as you. I hope she’s MORE so than you. Than BOTH of us combined! Because, no matter what she makes of this world, she will tackle it with her heart full and her head held high. She will always be safe. She will always be beautiful. Just as beautiful, if not more beautiful, as you, my little love letter. She’s going to make her mark on the Dark World, I KNOW it! And I can’t wait to cheer her on with you.”
Tenna leaned down, hunched over the puppet, and scooped him up. One arm hooked under his knees and the other cradling his back, Spamton was brought up until his head was level with his screen. He made sure to be extra careful, so as not to let the pipis slip from Spamton’s hold. No sudden movements, of course. Then, for a moment, they locked eyes and grew lost in each other's gaze. Spamton was mystified, moved beyond words. His eyes still appeared rather starry to Tenna. They shimmered like nothing he’d ever observed before.
The prospects of parenting didn’t feel so terrifying now. It wasn’t something he’d ever have to face alone. It was something they truly had to learn together from scratch. As terrifying as that was, it was hopeful. Their hearts couldn’t help but swell at the prospects the future held right in front of them. Directly between them, nestled perfectly between the feathers and silicone. For the first time since her inception, she was ready. They could sense it. Truly sense it.
A kiss was planted on Spamton’s forehead and held there as if absorbing every nagging, intrusive thought left lingering. Every doubt, every worry. Every repressed fear of the future.
The hair nearest to his screen rapidly clung to the static, and an intense tingling engulfed his entire face. That fuzzy static was always one of the most loving sensations. Without fail, it always made him feel safe. It made him feel whole. Stable within his own body.
When Tenna pulled back, Spamton lay in his arms, level-headed and lovestruck. His mind felt comfortably empty. The puppet leaned his head to the side, resting against Tenna’s chest and burrowing in until he could feel the heavy mechanical heartbeat beneath him. The way Tenna stared with such love and admiration projected across his limited expressions, it was as if he took a mental picture of this moment. A picture that would last forever in the very core of his memories. Spamton curled and cradled, the pipis buried within them, their heartbeats in sync. What a sight to behold. What a sight to make one reflect on every decision ever made in life, leading up to this moment. This tender moment of nothing but the warmest of security.
“What should we name her?” Tenna hummed sweetly in the same near-whisper he had been maintaining.
Spamton glanced at her, pondering the question. It was never something he had decided, let alone contemplated. In all honesty, he assumed Tenna would have created a book of potential baby names over the years. Assuming he hadn’t already named the little egg.
…
“VICTORY.”
Tenna perked up as if surprised.
“SHES THE [FINAL] [PEACE] TO OUR PUZZLE. THE [Apple of our eye]. OUR [BIGGEST] GREATEST [Achievement unlocked] TOGETHER. RIGHT?”
“Victory…” the TV murmured. Spamton stared intently, awaiting approval. Thoughts of doubt were locked and loaded, ready to fire. Just waiting for one second…one second too long to pass them by when, finally, right on queue, Tenna concluded, “I. LOVE. It.”
Another kiss crashed into Spamton, this time directly on his teeth. It was firm, nothing short of passionate, stealing his breath away before the puppet ever had a chance to react. Then he withdrew and leaned towards his chest, pecking the little blue pipis for less than a second. Spamton could feel her purring before a thunderous, excited peep escaped with such force her shell jolted for less than a second. Tenna’s expression went from soft to absolutely beaming the instant she chirped. His smile was so wide it nearly clipped off the screen. The puppet barely registered what happened as a barrage of kisses was peppered all over his face and neck. He couldn’t help but cackle as Tenna weaseled his massive boxy head into the crook of his neck, determined to cover every inch of his little mailman in kisses.
“[CATHODE]!” Spamton balked playfully. “WATCH OUT FOR THE [PIPIS]!”
Tenna never lost himself enough to bring her any harm. In fact, the longer he kept this up, the more he showered the other in endless affections, the more she chirped and peeped. Her symphony only encouraged the larger darkner to smother Spamton further.
This was finally the environment she was yearning for all these years.
.
.
.
“[EYE] SHOULD BUILD HER A NEST!” Spamton announced.
“She already has one, I suppose,” Tenna replied, gesturing towards the drawer.
“NO NO NO [BOOB TUBE] A REAL ONE. A [BIG] ONE WITH US ON THE [King sized bed]!”
Tenna looked elated at the idea. “You want to move her onto the bed?!”
“YES! THAT WAY WE CAN [Keep the change] HER WARM! SHE NEEDS A [Loving environment] TO HATCH! THE COLD [Alone on a Friday night?] DRAWER WONT [Past due]!”
Tenna would squeeze the air out of Spamton if it wouldn’t crush her.
“OH! SPAMMY! I’ve been DREAMING of this day! Yes! Make her a nest! Make her a BEAUTIFUL nest! You know what to do, I KNOW it in my own ‘heart-shaped object!” he chimed with an infectious confidence so strong Spamton let the loving mockery of his speech slide.
“[Sir yes sir!] … [Please sign here!]” Spamton replied, extending Victory to Tenna to take hold of.
Tenna scooped her up into his palms as Spamton got to work gathering everything he felt was needed. He scoured the room for clothes that both would not be missed but carried their individual scents. He gathered some of the softest baby blankets from Tenna’s nest in the nightstand. He even considered a red bath towel covered in stars and “TV Time!” print. Giddy, Tenna fixated on the sight of the puppet scattering the article in the middle of the bed, arranging them with purpose and unwavering attention until he confidently announced, “THERE!”
Tenna’s expression froze.
He hadn’t compressed the assorted fabrics into anything resembling a mound. The towel lay flat, the chosen shirts scattered across it, also flat. The baby blanket was the only thing slightly raised, and only enough to keep her in place, lest she roll off the bed. It was hardly a failsafe. Yet, Spamton was bleeding with pride as he snatched Victory from Tenna’s hands and situated her on the single fluffy mound square in the middle of his ‘nest.’
“WHAT DO YA THINK, [10/10]?”
Tenna forced his expression into a wobbly smile, but it didn’t conceal the sweat materializing on the side of his chassis.
“It’s….CUTE. Perhaps it will look FANTASTIC when you complete it, dear!”
Spamton’s expression fell. He started at the other, dumbfounded, and then irritated.
“WHATS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!” he squawked. “THIS [Premium Quality] [Luxurious] NEST IS EVERYTHING SHE NEEDS AND M[OAR]!”
The little darkner curled himself up around the baby blanket like some sort of mother cat, as if to prove a point. Victory lay against his abdomen as he lay wrapped around her, unbothered by the lackluster aesthetics.
“TRUST ME [BOOB TUBE]. I NO WHAT IM DOIN OK?”
Tenna nodded slowly, his smile still strained, as he lay carefully beside them.
“This looks like something a pigeon would make,” Tenna commented, recalling a distant documentary Kris listened to in the background.
“THANK YOU!” Spamton chirped, blissfully unaware of the context.
Tenna adjusted himself to lie on his side as close to them as possible. He rested his arm loosely over Victory and Spamton, his hand planted on Spamton’s back, not daring to move them and disturb his lover’s creation. Spamton, in turn, snuggled into Tenna once more. His eyes closed, a faint rumbling reverberated from within. Something akin to purring. An unconscious sign of safety and joy seldom revealed to Tenna.
“I love you, Spamton,” he whispered. “And I love you too, Victory.”
“I [Hyperlink Blocked] YOU [3, 2, 1!] [TENS].”
*Peep* *Peep*
Spamton would pluck the vibrant red flower that bloomed in response and tuck it snuggly against Victory, allowing her to rest on a bed of petals as well.