Work Text:
The Christmas bash was a huge success. Tenna, buoyed by a successful seasonal wrap-up and a couple of spiked hot chocolates, grinned as he surveyed the room. This was the first Christmas season since Spamton had joined and true to his word, he’d turned their falling ratings around. Tenna’s glance fell on Spamton, who was chatting up the Weather Duo, a wide smile on his face.
Tenna ignored the excited little frizz in his circuits as he studied the addison. Spamton was… a lot. He ran his mouth and swaggered around like he owned the place, and was not afraid to tell Tenna exactly what he thought he needed to hear. At first it had put Tenna off, but he had to admit, Spamton had a knack with advertisements and sponsors. He had a gift for persuasion; Tenna didn’t know how he did it, but even the most skeptical sponsors had thought twice after he spoke to them. He was charismatic and fun in front of the camera. He’d been a godsend for TV Time. Tenna was more grateful than he could say, although he’d tried his best. And behind the scenes, Spamton was funny, witty, and surprisingly insightful.
And… handsome. And flirtatious.
Tenna felt his screen warm. The flirting, he was still wondering about—he wasn’t an idiot, he was used to people kissing up to him or flirting with him to try to get something from him. Spamton was insanely ambitious, Tenna had noticed that the moment he met him. He knew Spamton wanted things from working with him: more attention, more recognition, more influence. Things you got from cozying up to a Darkworld boss. That was ok, Tenna wanted things from him too. Besides, a little flirting was fun. It felt good! And completely harmless, right?
Sometimes, Spamton’s flirting felt like… more. Maybe Tenna was just projecting—Angel knew he got lonely sometimes! But he couldn’t shake that feeling in his wires when Spamton would catch his gaze sometimes, and…
Ah, he was being silly. He shook his head and took a sip of his drink.
Spamton saw him looking and smiled at him, winking. Tenna gave him a little wave, feeling a little shy. He hoped Spamton couldn’t read what he was thinking about on his screen.
“Hey, boss, watch out.”
Ramb’s voice caught his attention. The bartender was pointing upwards, smirking. Tenna looked up and realized there was a tiny green and white plant hanging over him. He stepped out from under it, grinning. “Thanks, Ramb. Who put that there anyways?” he laughed, nervously (it was him. He had final approval of all the decorations and he liked to go all out). But Tenna didn’t hang the mistletoe for himself. It was just for fun!
“Careful you don’t get caught under there with someone,” chuckled Ramb, who was preparing another round of drinks.
“Yeah… haha…”
Ok, well, maybe if it was a certain addison getting caught under there with him—
No, stop that. He’s just your business partner! Your… really handsome, really magnetic business partner.
Yikes. His circuits pulsed and he tugged at his collar as his screen warmed. “It’s… umm… Hey, uh. Great work on the drinks this year!” He needed a subject change, now.
“Take it easy on those spiked hot chocolates, boss. I made ‘em strong tonight.”
Maybe that was why Tenna was feeling all mushy and light-headed. Yeah. The alcohol. That was it. He sat down at the bar and set his drink down, looking around the room again.
“He’s been a real help, hasn’t ‘e?”
“Hmm? Sorry, Ramb, what?”
“Your partner. That Cyberworld fellow. I ‘aven’t seen ratings like this since…” Ramb tipped his head back, thinking. “Can’t remember.”
“Yeah, he’s really… something. It’s been a great season. I was really looking forward to throwing the party this year. Everyone worked hard and deserves to relax.” Tenna cocked a brow at Ramb. “Including you. Don’t hide behind the bar all night, ok? We’ll live without you mixing drinks for a few hours.”
Ramb laughed. “Ah, you’re sweet, Mr. Tenna! Truth be told, I prefer to enjoy a bash this way. A little back from the action, you know? Gets a mite overwhelming otherwise.”
Tenna couldn’t imagine living like that. He was a TV, he was made to be the center of attention! Hiding at a party sounded like madness to him. But, if Ramb was happy, he supposed it didn’t have to make sense to him.
He stood up, grabbing his drink, and cleared his throat loudly. It was a testament to the power he wielded in that studio that all eyes were almost immediately on him—even his staff that were already a few sheets to the wind quieted down and paid attention.
“Hi everyone! Um… I just wanted to say a few words. First of all, thank you everyone for coming to the annual ~(totally not mandatory)~ Christmas Bash! We were really able to go all out this year, thanks to a great season wrap-up! Everyone worked hard, our Lightners are happy, and now we get to celebrate the fruits of our labor!”
Everyone cheered.
“And we especially have to thank Mr. Spamton G. Spamton for all of his work with our sponsors and our advertisers, getting our numbers up, and whipping us into financial fighting shape! So… here’s to you, Spamton, without whom I don’t know where we’d be… and to whom I will always be grateful.” He met Spamton’s gaze, gratified to see a flush creep over the addison’s surprised face.
“To Spamton!” shouted the cast and crew, raising their glasses. Spamton turned redder and also raised his glass, his gaze never leaving Tenna’s. Tenna inclined his head and smiled at him, polishing off his spiked hot chocolate.
He got caught up mingling with his staff after that, making sure everyone was having a good time. Everyone should have fun at the Christmas party! He relented and ended up getting another drink from Ramb. He even danced with LaNina a bit.
Eventually he found himself back at the bar, watching over the room like a proud father over his children. Or how he’d imagine a proud father would feel about their children. Asgore was a good frame of reference, he thought.
Spamton sat down beside him, interrupting his musings. “Heya, Tenna.”
“Spamton! Hi! How are you liking the party?”
“It’s pretty good! A little…” Spamton shook his hand back and forth. “Little old-fashioned. I like it.”
“Old-fashioned??” Tenna wanted to cringe. He knew that he wasn’t as hip and knowledgeable about what was “in” as Spamton, but that made him sound like a doddering old man! “Maybe… the word you were looking for is ‘hip?’” He grinned weakly.
“Relax, babe, I meant old-fashioned in a good way! People like retro, you know? Makes ‘em feel… [Happy Days] and nostalgia and all that stuff. Not that I would know. Cyber City doesn’t do stuff like this.”
Tenna ignored that Spamton called him ‘babe.’ “Really? Well I’m glad you got to finally enjoy a proper old-fashioned Christmas party!”
“Yeah, yeah. Listen, uh…” Spamton cleared his throat, running his fingers around the rim of his glass. “You really meant all that [stuff and nonsense] you said about me? ‘Bout how, uh… you don’t know what you’d do without me and alla that?” He suddenly couldn’t make eye contact, glancing down like he wanted to appear unconcerned, but his body language said otherwise. He was anxious for Tenna’s response.
Tenna would have blinked if he had eyes. “Yes, of course! Spamton, you’ve been here for what, four months? And you’ve turned things around like I’ve never seen! You saved our skins. I really owe you. I don’t know how you do it, but you’re a miracle worker!”
Spamton’s eyes were shining. After a moment he cleared his throat, grinning, but there was an edge to it. “Ah… yeah, that’s me, Mr. Miracle Worker!” He tossed back the rest of his drink and set the glass on the bar. “Can I get another, Ramb?”
“Sure, luv.”
Tenna smiled down at Spamton. “You don’t need to be shy. You’ve worked so hard for us—for me—and the results speak for themselves. I can’t thank you enough!”
“You mean it?”
“You bet I do.” Tenna nudged him playfully with his elbow. “Partner.” Spamton grinned—a real grin, not the practiced one for cameras and sponsors.
Ramb handed Spamton a fresh drink. “Let’s toast,” he said, raising it. “To climbing to the top.”
“To being big shots!” Tenna clinked his glass against Spamton’s.
“The biggest they’ve ever seen!”
“Cheers!” They drank to that.
Ok, last drink, for real, thought Tenna happily as he set it down. He wasn’t really drunk, but he was close, and he would rather stay happily buzzed. His head swam a little and he tapped the side of his casing, clearing the static.
“HEY! You guys have to kiss!” shouted one of the Pippins, interrupting his buzz.
“Wha—” Oh. Tenna had forgotten the mistletoe hanging above the bar. He felt his screen burn as a chant of “kiss, kiss, kiss!” started up and quickly got the whole room going.
He looked at Ramb helplessly. The bartender shrugged, cleaning a glass and avoiding eye contact. He looked like he was trying not to smile. Thanks a lot!
“Look, we, uh…” He glanced over at Spamton, who was looking up at the mistletoe overhead with an amused smirk. He leaned back against the bar.
“Well, Tenna, guess we have no choice. We gotta keep our audience happy, right?”
“I—” Tenna gulped. Spamton wanted to kiss him? It’s just because there’s mistletoe! he rebuked himself internally. Fixing his tie, he put his “Mr. TV Time” face on. “I guess we do.” Man, Spamton was handsome in this light. It made his dark eyes sparkle dangerously.
Before he could lose his nerve, Tenna leaned down and kissed him. He meant for it to be quick, a peck really, but Spamton got a grip on his tie and stopped him from pulling back too soon. The moment seemed to stretch on, and Spamton’s lips were soft, and warm tingles were spreading through Tenna’s entire body, waking up something he hadn’t known was there—
He finally pulled away, breathing harder than he should have been. The sound of his staff whistling and cheering felt muted as he stared down at Spamton, who looked a little dazed himself. Then an easy grin crept over Spamton’s face and he said something to the crowd, Tenna couldn’t tell what, and sipped his drink. Like it was no big deal.
Well, it should have been no big deal, but Tenna could feel his circuits and wires pulsing and aching to kiss Spamton again. Oh no. His screen was filled with rainbow bars, he knew. His collar was too tight. Why was it so hot in here? Oh no, oh no.
****
He couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss for the rest of the party. Finally, as things wound down and everyone trickled home, he found himself lingering near the door, playing with his hands and watching Spamton chat with Ramb as the plugboy shut down the bar.
Stop it, you’re not some kind of… romantic heroine pining over her crush! he ordered himself, and with that thought, turned on his heel and strode out of the Green Room. He was going to go back to his suite, look over some scripts for tomorrow, and get an early night’s sleep—
“Hey! Tenna! Wait up!”
Oh no.
He turned, plastering on a wide smile. “Hello, Spamton! Um… are you heading back to Cyber City?”
Spamton snorted. “Are you kidding? I’m not [drunk driving] tonight, I was going to crash in my dressing room if that’s ok.”
“Yes, of course, any time you need.” Spamton smiled gratefully at him. Without realizing it, they’d fallen into step as Tenna made his way towards his suite.
“Did you, um, enjoy the party?” asked Tenna, anxious to fill the silence.
“Yeah, it was a blast.”
“Wonderful.” Why did you kiss me?
Stop reading so much into it.
Yeah, but…
“Tens, you alright? Little too much to drink tonight?” chuckled the addison, nudging his leg.
“Oh! Y-yeah, I guess so, I was just… thinking about the… scripts for tomorrow!” he lied, wishing he wasn’t so damn distracted. It was one kiss!
“Sure, sure.”
And just like that, they were at his door. Tenna forced his hands to his sides before he could start playing with the hem of his tailcoat.
Get it together, you.
“Well, um… this is my stop!” He put his hand on the knob.
“Yep.” Spamton leaned against the doorjamb, studying him, hands in his pockets. What was that look in his eyes??
“Gonna just… go inside… get some… reading… done…” Tenna gestured at the still-closed door.
“Uh-huh.” Spamton was smiling now, eyes gleaming.
What is he doing?? Tenna felt pixelated sweat slide down his screen as his fans kicked on and his systems heated up. Go inside go inside go inside go inside—
He began to turn the knob—
Oh… fuck it. He stopped. He knelt down so he was closer to eye level with Spamton. “Can I… kiss you again?”
Spamton’s smile widened. “Angel, finally,” he muttered, leaning in.