Archive of Our Own

Pink was out doing his usual advertising in front of one of the mega centers of Castle Town. He was planning on lunch, going through some of the information he'd gotten from both returning and potential customers alike, when he heard the commotion. It was difficult, at first, to see what was going on. A commotion down an alleyway, Ruddins and Mauses and other darkners of all sorts gathering, gawking, whispering. He elbowed his way through, and —

Hiding in the trash, shivering and scared, Spamton in his little puppet body sat. The small Darkner trembles there; unable to find his words, and unable to get away from the crowd even if he tries, he was left curled up there, cowering and terrified. As Pink stepped through the wall of people, the former white Addison immediately scrambles a little closer to his older brother. Pink began to shake with rage. What the fuck? Where's Tenna?

Tenna and Spamton had been living together for a while now. Six or seven months, Spamton had admitted to him upon Pink asking once over drinks. He had his own place, but being with Tenna made him feel safer. It made him feel more like himself. He’s been suffering from memory corruption since his fall from the Big Shot Days, and Tenna was able to make him feel as normal as it could for a guy like him. Pink had protested, of course; why stay with an ex when he had four brothers who were willing and able to help him? And that’s when Spamton hesitated, before saying in a quiet voice that he’d never be comfortable living with his brothers again, despite the attempts of patching up their estrangement, and Pink… Pink had no choice but to respect that.

Fat load of fucking good it did them, huh.

Spurning into action, Pink swerves his head around, glaring at everyone who dared to laugh or make comments. They all knew him well — and knew he had dirt on every single one of them — so the crowded alleyway quickly disperses, leaving Pink alone with his brother.

Yeah, okay. Pink takes a deep breath and lets it go, stepping precariously closer and kneeling down.

“Okay. Easy now. Can you tell me where we are, Spams?”

The puppet is silent for a long moment before he finally responds : "W-Wh-wh-ere [IN THE WORLD IS]?” Whenever he was asking or clarifying it isn't clear, but he hears something and finds himself stumbling back, about to climb back into the dumpster. “Not-n-not-not-not [SAFETY INSPECTIONS].”

“Hey, hey. No, you’re safe. C’mon.” Pink reaches out, but doesn’t touch. He swears under his breath as Spamton disappears back into the dumpster. “No, Spams, remember? We’re in Castle Town. This is the safest you can be. Nobody here’s gonna hurt you.”

A piece of trash is thrown and hits Pink in the head; luckily, it’s just some crumpled up paper. But it has a picture drawn on it, and the older brother recognises Spamton's stupidly sloppy handwriting anywhere.

The word friend scribbled, over and over again with two circles, a pink and a yellow, overlapping them. Pink winces, holding out the paper and staring at it for a minute. He… doesn’t know what this means. Not at all. But…

“Hey, do you wanna go see Mister Ant Tenna? He’s your… buddy. He can help keep you away from whatever’s scaring you.”

Spamton peeks back out, only his glasses and nose visible. His eyes seem to flicker with some sense of understanding, but he ducks back down again. A long, agony inducing amount of time passes before the puppet climbs back out, clutching a bunch of papers to his chest. Pink inhales, holds it, and exhales as he plasters a smile on his face.

“Let's get you home,” The oldest addison tries to sound gentle, keeping his volume level low, soft and comforting, when in his head he was planning on how to murder Tenna. “It'll be okay.”

Pink has to keep himself from snapping for Spamton to hurry up. He wants to get back to the castle so he can give that stupid television a piece of his mind. Tenna said this wouldn’t happen anymore. That he had it handled. The last thing Pink wants to do is to ignore Spamton’s wishes and take him away, but… four pairs of eyes looking out for a sick family member is better than just one man child of a Dark Lord, right?

So the Addison smiles, despite how the anger still burns inside his chest, and gestures to the papers. “You uh. You sure you need all that, pal?”

The puppet squints before nodding, shoving another into the addison’s chest. This one is just scribbles, and Spamton looks like he expects Pink to know what it means. He then scurries off in the wrong direction.

“Hey, hey-hey-hey! Wrong way, pal,” Pink calls, darting forward to block Spamton’s way. He’s still not entirely sure he should touch Spamton — doesn’t know how he’ll react. So instead, the pink Addison points. “That way. See the castle, buddy? We gotta go there. Third floor, that’s where Tenna lives. C’mon.”

The puppet looks over his shoulder, before he crumples the papers and turns as Pink suggests, walking again. Every once and a while, he sticks one on the stone wall leading up to the building. How many of those damn papers does he even have? Pink…realistically knows he should probably clean it up as they go. They’re wrinkled and scribbled over and over, but. He follows after Spamton, pointedly ignoring them. They climb to the third floor, and stop at Tenna’s doorway.

“Okay,” Pink says, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile. “You ready to see Tenna, little bro?”

He has a bone to pick with the Lord of Screens.

Spamton stares; the door seems to be jogging his memory, and his eyes go as wide as possible. He immediately turns to run away.

“Hey!” Pink shoots his hand out to immediately snag Spamton by the coat, pulling him back. Pink squeezes, holding Spamton tight as he tries to elope. “You know Tenna! He’s a friend of yours,” he insists, face straining as he starts to turn the door handle and push it open. “Tenna is your—”

His voice dies as the door swings open to the sight of Tenna crumpled on the ground.

The boss Darkner is splayed out facedown on the floor. His arm had been yanked off and tossed a good three feet away from the rest of his body, wires spilling from the socket that it was pulled from. Electrical humming and buzzings from his antennae are the only sign of life coming from the CRT; if they weren't, Pink would have almost assumed the worst.

Pink’s heart drops.

Spamton immediately makes a clacking, wet sound. It could only be described as a sob, a sob as much as a puppet can make. The papers are scattered everywhere as he jerks away, trying to fight against Pink’s grip; he’s stuttering nonsense. The Addison yelps, holding tight onto his segmented arm.

“Hey — hey! Spamton, stop! It’s okay! It’s —”

There’s a rumbling noise. Pink freezes, still holding onto Spamton, as Tenna’s screen lifts up. There’s a thin crack in the screen, going from one corner to the other.

He’s smiling.

`Sp a a a am ton. . . are you okay?`

Spamton freezes. That glazed over look he had in his panicked eyes seemed to sparkle and fade and then-

"Oh." He whispers. Slumping onto his knees on the floor with a loud clack! as they make contact. "Y-Y-You..."

Pink lets Spamton go, and the puppet drops to the floor, as if his strings were cut. He looks between Tenna and Spamton, shoulders trembling. This is … this is bad. Really, really bad. Dropping down to his knees, Pink places a hand on Spamton’s shoulder, because … he’s not sure what else to do. The older brother's eyes lift up to scan the absolute battlefield the living room has become, trashed beyond imagination. He’s still holding onto Spamton, but he’s starting to shake.

Tenna keeps talking. Tenna keeps smiling. The wires where his arm was attached before spark. 

`Oh. . . good, you found. . . Pink.` his speakers splutter and fritz, trying to get the sounds out in the middle of all the static. `I’m glad. You found someone. . . safe.`

The memories are playing back for Spamton. He had fallen asleep on the couch; Tenna probably didn't want to wake him since he barely gets any sleep as is. But Tenna needed to wake him to get him to eat, too, and it went… horribly wrong. Spamton had a giant fit, hadn’t recognized Tenna, and they ended up in combat. 

Tenna refused to fight back. Fight was all Spamton did. 

He had fled once Tenna was down, leaving the CRT to suffer on his own. Alone. 

Little hands come to grip against his head, and Spamton tugs at hair angrily, anguish tearing from his throat as he curls into his knees. His cathode coughs, a wet noise, before speaking.

`Pink, I’m, ah. . . ha ha! Sorry. . . couldn’t . . . not Spamton’s fault. . . I . . . I. . . I. . .`

His screen goes dark again, slumping back onto the ground. Pink squeezes Spamton, eyes wide.

"I-I-I-I-" Spamton stutters, trying so hard to speak. I'm sorry  he wants to yell. Forgive me, please, hurt me back, do anything but blame yourself! 

Pink squeezes his eyes shut and moves to stand. “Can I trust you,” he says, voice as even and level as he can make it, “to look after him while I get the Prince? He needs you, Spamton. I need you to stay here. Can you… do that?”

Spamton looks up at Pink, jerking his head up and down in a nod. "Y-Y-Y-[YES]>" carefully, the puppet crawls over to sit next to Tenna, a single little segmented hand resting against his back; Tenna’s body twitches, just once, before powering back off. Pink looks down at Spamton, quiet and sympathetic.

“It’ll be fine,” he says softly. “Tenna’s been through worse. Just stay here. I’ll be right back.”

That being said, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him. Tenna’s body groans softly. With nothing left to do, Spamton takes a look around, spotting Tenna's arm. He scurries over and drags the appendage on the floor, before collapsing against it and hugging the limb tight. "I-I'm s-s-s--s-s-s0 sorry.." he whispers. "H-H-How do-[DUE]-do you n-not [           ] me? W-Wh-why do you [END]-danger yourself? I sh-should be... [PUT THESE SAVINGS DOWN TODAY]."

Tenna’s arm twitches once more. There’s another groan, as the CRT tries to move — to comfort Spamton, most likely — even though his own body is in peril.

`Spa m m m m m ton. . .`

The puppet shakes his head. "Do-do-dd-don't [MOVE IT], w-wuh-wuh-[WAIT] unti-un-til [FLUFFY] ge-gets here." He tries to gently move Tenna’s head so he isn't flat on his face, but thanks to his tiny puppet body’s weak upper body strength, he can’t even budge it. Tenna turns his head just a little as Spamton tries to move him; his face is back on, smile still in place.

`ittttzzzz okay` he mumbles, fuzzy static pouring from his speakers. `I’m m m m okaaaaay`

The mailman shakes his head. "N–No. you-you, you're, no, you're n-[KNOT]."

`Sssssspammy…`

Tenna’s voice trembles with the effort it takes to speak. He reaches up with his still intact hand, brushing against Spamton’s cheek.

`I’m sssszzzorry.`

He snaps. 

"NO. NOT [YOU!] YOU DIDN'T EVEN [DUE] ANYTHING WRONG! IT'S BECAUSE I'M A [TICKING TIME BOMB]!" He yells, the glitches that rage his body almost disappearing entirely as he gets angrier and angrier. “I'M NOTHING BUT A, A, A—" He inhales. "A [GOOD FOR NOTHING]. YOU DESERVE [A REAL BOY] WHO WON'T NEARLY [KILLED] YOU!!" 

Spamton pulls at his hair, funnily similar to Tenna tugging his antennae. Furious now, he swivels his head around, looking desperately for…something. He needs something… heavy. Something to crack this stupid puppet body and end it all. He's muttering about it as he begins hysterically throwing things in the living room around. Tenna makes a keen whining sound, metal gears scraping and fans whirling  as he tries to prop himself up, face flickering back to life. He whimpers, searching for the little puppet.

“Sp — uh — amm, plea, please, d-don’t…”

But Spamton cannot hear, all he can hear is that ringing of a distant phone and the way his puppet body clacks and clatters as he runs around and the way his breath wheezes erratically as he laughs. His body shakes the moment it stops moving around, so he needs to keep in motion. He needs to move to stop the noise. He needs to calm down, down, down—

When Spamton looks back, Tenna’s face is flat against the floor again — but more than that —

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Pink is standing in the doorway, frozen; Ralsei is crouched down at Tenna’s collapsed body. Pink stalks over, reaching to take Spamton’s wrists in his own and pull him closer. “Hey. Hey! Calm down. I said calm down. What’s going on, Spams? I told you to keep an eye on Tenna!”

The puppet blinks rapidly, but still doesn't look all the way there. “I [KNEED] something heavy.” He answers, uptick in his voice, as if this idea will solve everything. “I'm t–the problem.”

“Wha —” Pink is smart enough to know what's happening, and understanding flickers on his face immediately. He recoils a little, but doesn’t let go of Spamton’s arm. “No. No. No, we’re not fucking doing that, Spamton. You aren’t a problem,” his voice hitches, “you don’t get to run away from us when we finally have you back. You’re not doing that.” He looks back to the Prince of the dark, hands trembling. “Do we need the dice guy to repair his arm? Can you heal his HP?”

Pushing up his glasses, the fuzzy prince nods. "I can heal him but a pippins or otherwise to fix his arm would be necessary, yes. I won't be able to heal past a certain threshold until then."

“Right. Okay. Go find one of them, then.” Pink doesn’t turn to look at Ralsei. His shoulders tremble. He won’t let go of his little brother. “Just … hurry. Okay? Just hurry.”

Ralsei nods. "I am aware of the green pippins who lives nearby. if my memory doesn't evade me, this was his specialty. A familiar face would be nice, I am sure. Hang on tight."

Time unfortunately passes tortuously slow before Ralsei returns with Battat in tow. He has his tool box gripped in his gloves hands and a thunderous expression on his face. Ralsei had clearly explained what was going on, and the dice boy was pissed.

"Hey Tenns." he greets, voice flat as he sits and grabs his things. He ignores Pink and Spamton completely. "Let's get you fixed up."

Tenna’s boxy head is dark. He’s breathing, at least, which is a plus, but there’s not much to smile about. Pink is still holding Spamton, settled on the trashed couch now — not willing to let him go. He’s rubbing circles into Spamton’s back, trying to soothe him. The puppet is swaying slightly, still not all there and now completely nonverbal.

“Thanks for uh, comin on short notice,” Pink says, trying to start a conversation. “I — just… I know it must be a pain, comin’ in like this so early in the morning.”

"It's fine, I can stay as long as necessary." The pippins replies, tone clipped; he sighs, adding: "I used to get up at all kinds of hours in TV World."

“Well, this uh, this ain’t TV world no more, so at least you only get the occasional call.” Pink is trying. He’s trying, goddamn it, he’s an Addison. He rubs at Spamton’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Uh, I’ll uh, I’ll buy you drinks after this as a thank you. Or maybe something else, I dunno if you’re a drinker or nothin.”

Tenna makes a groaning sound. His screen flickers, but stays dark. Pink winces. Battat just hums, not looking at the Addison, training his glare on Tenna's shoulder and arm. He drags the arm closer to Tenna’s body and methodically strips some wires down.

"If he starts freaking out it's normal," Battat says. Spamton physically winces at Battat's angry voice. It's hollow, and cutting, “It's literally like I'm sewing a limb back on, as you can assume. And don't bother with the drinks, my usual bartender isn't around at the moment. I really only trust him with my alcohol."

Pink squeezes Spamton’s shoulder. Trying to comfort him, maybe. “It’s fine. We’ve … we’ll be fine,” he says, though he clearly doesn’t trust his own voice. “We all gotta deal with shit we don’t enjoy, right? Like the dentist. It’s just like going to the dentist”

"Sure." Battat answers, glancing over; the pippins grins, though it's not at all warm.  “Be glad I'm not your dentist." 

Pink winces. “I’m just as upset about all of this as you are, and so is Spams, so just — just cut us some slack —”

"I understand he's your brother and you love him," the pippins interrupts as leans back from Tenna for a second. "But he's got a bad track record with me. I know Tenna loves him, so I respect that. I would happily show you the door if I could. Tenna can't keep suffering like this, but I know the big lug would spiral if anyone took Spamton away from him again. It's a tricky situation." He huffs, going back to work. "And I'm sorry if I'm making you feel bad, my intention is more to make you feel guilty. Whoops on my end.” He is slowly and methodically reattaching Tenna's arm wire by wire. "Just. Let's stick to silence, for all of our sakes?"

"I'm sorry." Spamton whispers.

"Boy if I hadn't heard that a million times." Battat snarks; he pauses, before shaking his head. "Sorry. No more funny quips from the dice boy. I'm going to focus on my work now."

The Addison and puppet both fall silent as the pippins continues the repairs. Pink notices the way that Battat had re-wrapped the open wires on the sliced off arm had been finished relatively quickly, like he’s done it a thousand times before. 

Maybe he has. Maybe this is more common than he first thought. 

Battat makes a connection with some wires, and Tenna’s screen comes to life. The CRT gasps, pained, hand twitching.

“Ma… mama…?”

"Toriel isn't here, Tenna." The pippins voice is uncharacteristically soft, "I'm going to re-attach your arm, it's gonna hurt. Just like before.”

Tenna tenses up. “No… where — is she? Where’s Toriel? I’m sorry. I want to say sorry. Please don’t let her throw me away, please, please…”

Pink covers his mouth. Battat is surprisingly steady. "It's alright, Tenna. She's not here, but I am. it's Battat. Spamton is safe. He just isn't very talkative,” He adds, "But that doesn't mean you get to turn around, moving is a big no-no. Mechanic's orders. I'm re-attaching your arm now. It’s gonna hurt, I’m sorry." He pulls the wires from both body parts; a harsh and ugly sound erupts from the action.

It’s loud. It sounds painful, like nails against a chalkboard. Tenna’s screen flickers on and off wildly as sounds spill from his mouth. The noises don’t connect into words, but he’s begging. He doesn’t thrash, though — doesn’t so much as jerk his limbs, except for the unintentional movements that come with the electricity coursing through his body as his wires reattach. Tenna sobs, clenching and unclenching his good hand.

"I know, Tenna, I'm sorry," Battat takes a deep breath, and Tenna groans. His claws burst out of his glove, ripping them to shreds. Wordless pleas fall from his lips, to no avail. "You're doing so well, it's okay. It'll be over soon." He adds softly, "Big deep breaths, Tenna, you're being so good. I'm here. Good old Battat, and Spamton’s here too. We love you, we're here for you. You're not going to be thrown away."

“Spam — Spamtuh — I — I have to say I’m sorry — I have to — I…” There’s another involuntary jerk, and Tenna throws his head back, twisting his chest as he tries to get away from the pain. More tears flood his screen, fangs peek beneath his lips. He’s in so much pain. Battat winces, and, maybe sympathetic to his former boss, his eyes glance over to the addison.

"Actually. Pink, can you bring Spamton over here so they can see each other?"

Tenna’s screen flickers again.  “Nnn… no, it’s. I trust he’s h… here,” he babbles, laboring over every syllable. Pink slowly moves to stand anyway, picking Spamton up and cradling him like a child. Wordlessly, he moves to crouch down in front of Tenna but behind Battat, so they can see each other. Tenna’s smile is as bright and blinding as always. It makes Pink sick to his stomach. “Spammy. I’m s. S. So glad you’re a— ssssssafe.”

"I know it hurts, I'm sorry big guy." The dicer sympathizes as he continues his painstakingly intricate work. Spamton ducks his face against his brother, still clinging to the Addison, and mercifully, Battat says nothing.

Pink takes a breath. He kneels down. “Tell me what I can do to help,” he says quietly, to Battat. “Uh, do you think holding his hand will make it easier? Or. Talking? Keepin you distracted, big guy?”

Tenna laughs, a little pained, and winces. “No, uh, haha, no, I’m. I’m peachy! I — nngh — I’m fine. Just. Take care of. Spammy.” A pause, before Tenna’s screen flickers back to Battat. “I’m so — sorry, Bats, I’m so sorry…”

"Stop saying sorry for shit you didn't do." He thunks Tenna's casing very, very gently. “Just focus on Spamton, I'll work as quickly as possible." He looks to Pink. "Just... come have him sit, right there–" he nods to a spot that will eventually be in Tenna's reach. "–and I'll speed up my work. The sooner these two are cuddling the better."

Something Battat is working on suddenly snaps into place, and Tenna keens, sobbing as his head ducks down, pressing against his chest. He curls up tight, heat and pain coursing through his body. Pink flinches, and Spamton hides against his brother’s side again, squeezing his eyes shut. The green pippins looks relieved, though. 

"There, okay, main nerves have been connected, now I just gotta get the extra fine motor receptors." Battat talks, not caring if anyone understands. "Tenna, it's gonna hurt, bad, so I'm going to count down from three. Three—“ He immediately cranks a wire, wrapping another around to stabilise it. Tenna sobs, feeling the pain course through his arm as it’s reconnected. His screen goes black, but he doesn’t move — not an inch. Not so much as a shift in position.

Pink swallows, hand going to find Spamton’s shoulder again. Battat quickly and methodically does the same with three other cables before connecting them. "Last big one, Tenna." 

This one luckily isn't as bad; it just takes a lot of patience for all parties involved. The pippins glances at the coat Tenna was wearing — it’s torn, and nearly unusable. He looks over to Pink. "If I tell you where to look, could you find him a new sweater?" Before Pink can reply, Spamton bolts it to their shared bedroom, and Battat exhales, "Looks like he's... got that under control."

Tenna is sobbing again. Motor oil is leaking from his joints and into the carpet. Pink moves without thinking and touches Tenna’s casing. “It’s okay, big guy,” he breathes. “It’s fine. You’re going to be fine. We’ll get you all fixed up.”

Battat nods. "Just like Pink said, you're doing great. Just a few more twists and tweaks." He stretches the wires straight to check for knots as he speaks, and then carefully twists them, before pushing Tenna's arm in; with a satisfying click, it's in place.  “Lift your arm, slowly, okay? Stop moving immediately if anything feels wrong.”

Pink watches with bated breath as Tenna does as Battat asks. The CRT’s arm raises about seven inches into the air, before Tenna whines softly and lets it back down. Battat breathes a sigh of relief; it shows on his face just how exhausted he looks. How… how scared he is. Pink can’t help but wince in sympathy.

Out of the blue, Ralsei clears his throat — everyone clearly forgot he was standing there — and Battat jerks a bit but hops up, letting the prince take position and heal Tenna the rest of the way. Pink takes a step back as well. He lightly touches Battat’s shoulder, pulling away after just a second. 

“Hey. Uh. You don’t have to stay,” he says softly. “I know you’ve got a kid at home you probably don’t wanna be away from…”

Battat looks at Tenna, before his gaze shifts over to Spamton as he comes teetering in with practically all of Tenna's sweaters in his tiny puppet arms. 

“They'll be okay.” He says. “Thanks for your help, too. I can't imagine how it must feel seeing your brother like that. Tell Tenna I'll be back in a few days to check on his arm, yeah? I need to be off.”

“Battat.” Tenna calls, reaching out, thumb brushing against the pippins hand. He’s looking at Battat, screen still cracked, but he’s smiling a little more naturally. “Thank you. For everything.”

Battat cracks a relieved smile. “Of course, Boss. Anytime.” 

It’s only after Battat and Ralsei have retreated from the room when  Tenna looks over to his mailman. He hasn’t moved from the floor yet; Spamton unceremoniously plops all the sweaters down on the floor, walks around them, and then hugs Tenna on his good side.

“Spammy. It wasn’t your fault,” he says firmly. Tenna tilts his antennae up at Pink,  looking for support on this. “This whole thing wasn’t your fault, Spamton.”

Spamton shakes his head but refuses to elaborate. He’s reminiscent of a scared child at the moment, too frightened to speak but also too terrified to let go.  As if it'll all disappear if he did.

“Spamton…” Tenna rubs his hand up and down Spamton’s back. Comforting him, even now. Even when he’s the one in pain.It doesn’t go unnoticed by the Addison. Pink frowns, hugging around his arms as he watches Tenna coax Spamton out of his own head. “Do you want to sleep right here, Spamton?” He asks, gently. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The puppet vehemently shakes his head. He knows that the last time he woke up, he hurt Tenna. He doesn't want to hurt him again. What if it’s worse? What if he kills him? Pink doesn’t really know what to say as he watches those thoughts turn in his little brothers head. He eventually opened his mouth. 

"I'm just glad you two are okay." 

Spamton’s shaking seems to be slowing, and then, all at once, he slumps. So much exertion and pain and panic has him exhausted. Tenna coos gently. “Shh. There, there, Spamton. It’s okay. Just … rest.” The CRT pushes himself up to a sitting position, wincing a little bit at the strain. His partner safely in his lap now, Tenna runs a hand through his hair. 

He looks up to Pink, screen gone dark.

“He’ll forget,” he admits quietly. “He always does. This is just the first time a fight has gone off the rails. Heh. Why do you think Battat knows my circuits by heart?”

"He... and he doesn't know?" Pink isn’t sure how he feels about that. He knows the truth wouldn't feel good but the very idea of lying to him, well...

“I’ve tried telling him,” Tenna admits. “But it just goes south, and then he forgets again. It’s better if… if…” The CRT’s gaze trails back down to Spamton. He sighs, soft and sad. “If he realizes how much he’s hurt me, he tries to get rid of himself. And that’s… awful to deal with, too.”

Pink sighs, scrubbing down his face with a hand. This is just... a terrible situation, no matter what angle he looks at it. Constantly having to search for your brother in back alley trash cans, well, it's stressful, but he can’t imagine the kind of pain Tenna is in every time Spamton slips into one of his episodes. “I suppose that's fair. I just feel bad about avoiding telling him. What if he finds out on his own?”

“Then I’ll deal with it,” Tenna says simply. “And if Spamton doesn’t forgive me for that… well.” He chuckles, soft and mirthless, as he looks down at the sleeping Spamton.  “It’s not the first time he would leave me for a mistake I made.”

Pink flinches. Right. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories." He gaze shifts to look at his sleeping baby brother instead, but somehow finds it more painful than looking at Tenna. "I... if you ever need anything, you can have me on speed dial." He finds himself saying. “I have mostly memorised his favourite dumpsters."

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit him. He has some really good days! Just… some really bad ones too.” Tenna flexes his arm. It feels … strange. Not normal. It always feels strange when it gets reattached. “Battat is the one who usually helps me out when I mess up and he escapes. He helps with cleanup too. Speaking of that…” He looks to the trashed living room and winces.

"I can help,” Pink blurts out, “you can't put too much strain on your arm for a while. I don't want Greenie coming for my ass if you do break something." He glances at his brother. "Should you put him in the bedroom?"

“I … should. But.” Tenna looks down at Spamton. The puppet is clinging to his shirt, soiled with motor oil as it is. The CRT sighs softly. “I … i think he’d be upset if he wakes up alone.”

The addidon’s mouth snaps shut, before he finally nods. What do they do, then? Pink makes a decision, because of course he has to. If he doesn’t, Tenna will just stand here forever and nothing would ever get done.  "Go rest with him, I can deal with cleaning up."

“No, I — uh! Haha. I can do it. Maybe you should take him,” Tenna says, moving to stand while cradling Spamton in his good arm. He frets a little, worried that the puppet will wake up, but it seems that Spamton is down for the count. “It’s not your mess, Pink. It’s mine.”

"Yeah, well, you're family, and I dunno if you're aware, family share the burdens they carry "  But he does go and take Spamton from Tenna’s arms as he says that, having to very carefully undo the grasp the puppet’s fingers have on Tenna's shirt.

“I…” Tenna pauses. He looks… confused, or maybe ashamed. “My family never… I mean… I don’t…” Right. Right. His only family has ever been his Lightners, who didn’t even know he existed. Pink feels the regret hit his chest cavity as he realizes that. Tenna dips his head down, and laughs a little. “I mean. I guess. I didn’t know that, haha.”

Pink bites back a sigh. "Well, I'm putting him to bed, then, and after that I'll come help. He needs some alone time. Just gimme a few minutes." 

Leaving before Tenna could say anything else, he goes to the shared room Spamton and his CRT have. He fixes up the bed into a nest, and sets his brother inside. He stares at him, and the longer he looks, the stronger the feelings welling up in the back of his throat press. Ducking his head down, the Addison brushes foreheads with his puppet brother, and ignores the twist in his heart at how cold Spamton’s body is.

“I'm sorry big brother isn't better at this," He whispers, so he doesn't cry. "We'll figure this out, I promise."

Pink lingers for a few minutes, watching his brother's chest rise and fall, before he counts to ten, spins around and walks back out and to the kitchen. He finds that Tenna is already up, even though he shouldn’t be, sorting through the piles of things flung around the room. He’s babying the arm that was ripped off, keeping it slung against his chest. Carefully, the lord of screens dumps a shattered mug into the trash can.

“That was his favorite mug,” he mumbles quietly to himself, not having noticed Pink coming in, “I’ll have to get another before he notices… oh, the pillow’s torn… I’m not sure how to fix the couch…”

The Addison leans on the doorframe, expression unreadable. 

This big idiot is going to get himself killed worrying for others.

Pushing himself off the wall, Pink struts forward. "I can mend the pillow. Not sure about the couch, though. You should be resting, big guy."

“Oh! Pink,” Tenna lifts his screen then, turns and smiles at the Addison. The crack is still visible on his screen, however faint. He looks back to the mess with a sheepish look. “Well, I mean. I want it to be cleaned up before he wakes up,” he says, kneeling down now to gather some shredded papers in his hand. “I don’t want him to see such a mess, so…”

"You're not a miracle worker, Tenna,” He coaxes. "You literally cannot possibly fix it all. Let me help, just direct me what to do and you,” He glares a bit. "Rest."

“Nonsense! TV is a miracle!” Tenna laughs. He knows it’s not funny, though, because he stops when he sees Pink's unamused expression. “…it’ll be faster if there’s two of us,” he admits after a moment of silence. “And it doesn’t hurt that badly. I’m fine. Seriously.”

"We work together but if you need breaks you take them, understood?" A compromise. Pink is good at working around both parties' desires for a compromise. "I can mend quickly, just point me to where I’m needed." 

The boss Darkner falters, before holding out the torn pillow. “Just… this, to start with. It’s his favorite. The one that has a heart sewn on it. He ripped the fabric in two during his episode… he made that himself. He was so proud that he was able to get his body to cooperate enough to finish it.”

Tenna continues working, falling into silence as Pink sews up what he can. The only sound is the hum of his screen, the whirl of his fans. It’s something that’s normally not audible, except for in silence or when Tenna is stressing himself out. In this case, it’s probably both. Pink watches him carefully. 

"You really care about him, huh?" He ends up saying his thoughts out loud. He doesn't sound critical or upset, more...

Astounded.

“Huh?” Tenna’s screen flickers, before he looks up at Pink. His good antennae is cocked, confused. “I mean. Yeah? Of course I do. He’s my little mailman.”

"Spamton is sort of a little bit of a gigantic asshole," Pink says flatly, “It just shocks me you've stayed so long. I know my siblings probably wouldn't." He's brutally honest.

“He’s — well…” Tenna pauses, before he laughs. “He’s my gigantic asshole, I guess. And… I mean…” His shoulders droop. Tenna’s screen screws up in pain at the strain of it. “I already failed him once. I’m not going to let it happen again.”

Pink hums, deciding its best to not press anymore. They work in silence and eventually he holds up the pillow.

"There,” Pink shows Tenna, “can't even tell it was ripped.”

Tenna smiles weakly. He takes the offered pillow, rubbing a thumb against the embroidered heart.

“Thanks,” he says, soft. “I’ve still got a lot of cleaning up to do, but this… this helps.”

"No problem. We've got cleaning to do." he corrects, setting down his sewing kit and standing back up. “What next, boss?”

“I just … need to get everything broken out of here,” Tenna says, gesturing to the room  — before he pauses, and laughs a little. “Oh, with one exception, of course! That being yours truly, haha.” Pink gives Tenna a blank look, and the television bristles. “It was a joke! Come on! A little humor never hurt anybody!”

"Spamton would've laughed, so there's that." Pink admits, "I'm not much of a jokester."

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to find the kind of jokes you do like.” Tenna turns, then, and bends back down, gathering up the little pieces of glass from — well. From his old screen. Ralsei repaired what was cracked, but that doesn’t mean that the broken pieces magically disappeared. 

It feels… weird. Holding parts of his face in his hands. Tenna trembles a little as he stares down at it. Pink promptly walks over, taking the pieces. 

"Why not pick up all the stuffing from the couch? I can handle this." He pauses. "Don't want you getting too… in your head."

“I’m a television. I’m always in my head.” Still, Tenna stands, staggering over to the couch and bending down to do that. It’s … weird. It’s awkward, and silent, and… 

“What would you have done? In my place.”

The addison stands up a little straighter, turning to look at Tenna. "I... don't know." he does, he just doesn't want to say it. Don't make him say it, Tenna. "You did the best you could, that's what matters."

“You know.” It’s an accusation, more than a question. Tenna doesn’t look at Pink. “I need you to tell me.”

Pink twists his hands, looking uncomfortable. He looks away. "We would've gotten control of him and then send …him away to someone more skilled who could take care of him."

Tenna’s shoulders tense up again. The hum of his screen is louder, somehow, in the silence that follows. “… yeah,” he says after a long pause. “That’s… what someone smart would do. But I’m not … smart.”

“That's what someone heartless would do." Pink corrects. "You love Spamton. We do too, but not enough to deal with him on our own. You really, truly love him."

“I already abandoned him once.” Tenna’s thumb smooths over the pillow still in its grip. The embroidered heart Spamton worked so hard on. “It was the biggest mistake of my life. So I decided, when I learned about the memory corruption, that I’d never let it happen again. Not as long as I’m still breathing.”

Pink refuses to get teary eyed. Like Spamton, he despises crying. So, he just nods stiffly and heads into the kitchen to dump the shards in the trash bin. Tenna continues to work, quiet and diligent, for the next several minutes — though his good antennae is cocked at attention, listening for something. Waiting. He pauses about twenty minutes in to clearing the rest of the stuffing from the couch.

“He’s waking up,” he says. “Do you want to check on him, or should I…?”

Without even looking, Pink motions for Tenna. "He fell asleep with you nearest, it'd probably be less jarring to see you first."  He looks up, gives a smile and then a thumbs up; awkward gestures he normally would never make. Tenna snorts softly. He looks at the room, and … his antennae droop.

“It’s still not as clean as I’d like it. But hopefully Spamton won’t notice anything.”

And with that, Tenna creeps over to the bedroom. He knocks, *shave and a haircut,* before opening, poking his CRT head inside.

“— Spamton? You alright?”

He's a little bump in the middle of the bed, wiggling a bit before crawling out of the blankets. He rubs his face, realises how his face feels and, as if he's woken up to a reality he dreamed wasn't real, looks over to Tenna. 

"I–I'm al–al–alright." He says, as he sits all the way up.

“Yeah? Is it okay if I come in?” Spamton seems lucid, which is promising. But Tenna can never be certain. Not until Spamton fully wakes up. Best to give him space before that. 

The puppet looks around, taking stock of his surroundings. Room, bed, door. 

Tenna.

"Y–Y–Yeah." He replies after a few moments of contemplation. Tenna slips inside, closing the door behind him. The only light in the room is his screen, which he dims to a level he knows Spamton can tolerate.

“How are you feeling, love letter?”

Spamton grumbles, reaching for his cathode. "I-I-I'm n-not su-s-s-su-sh-[SHORE]." He eventually gets out. "I-I-I-I, feel... guilty." He sounds quieter with each word. "Di-Did som-someth-th-[        !] happen?"

“You had a bad dream, I think,” Tenna says smoothly, settling down next to Spamton in the bed. He doesn’t reach to touch — not until Spamton wants it. Sometimes he gets fidgety and restless and hates being held. Tenna has to respect that distance. Though, he doesn’t have to wait long; Spamton immediately moves to embrace the CRT, exhaling with relief the moment he is able to come in contact with his lover. He grips the other's shirt, and Tenna coos. “It’s okay. Everything’s as it should be. Did you want to go back to sleep for a bit? Or watch something on my screen?”

"Don't [GO GO GADGET]..." .

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tenna says softly. “Never again. Can you tell me what you want, my love? Something to make you feel better?”

The smaller Darkner breathes carefully, smelling- he blinks. He smells a strong oil smell — that’s — "A-Are y-yi-you bleeding?" He asks.

“I … no? Maybe?” Tenna frowns. He doesn’t pull away, but he checks over his shoulder really quick and winces. There’s oil starting to stain the upper sleeve of his sweater. He ruined Battat’s work. Again. “I might … need a tune up.”

Spamton huffs fondly, patting the side of Tenna's casing. "B-Baaa — [DICE BOY] c-can [HELP HOTLINE]." He reassures Tenna, unaware completely of what happened. Tenna smiles, tight. The smaller Darkner smiles back, the tiny amount that he can. "He a-an-4nd I h-a-have a r-r-o-[BLUNT ROTATION]." 

“Hah! Yeah.” Tenna’s insides squirm a little. He swallows, rubbing little circles against the puppets body. “Are you feeling better now?”

Spamton still looks exhausted, but gives a quick nod. This stupid body wears on him so heavily, and Tenna knows it. "I-I-I th-think, y-yeah. Jush-just [100% PEACH JUISE] ." 

The puppet attempts a smile. He means it sincerely. Tenna smiles back, though his screen is dim. He looks — exhausted, but happy. “Okay. Well, why don’t we stay in bed for just a bit longer, then?” That way, Pink can keep cleaning, and Spamton will be none the wiser. Tenna adjusts his shoulder and winces. Spamton sees it immediately, because of course he does.

“Wh-wh-wh-what hurrrrts? D-Did yo-you-y0u..." he trails off. What could Tenna have done to have messed up his shoulder? 

He reaches out his little hand. Tenna goes tense as the puppet fingers brush against his sleeve. His shoulder. He’s still smiling. “I think I just pulled it, is all,” he admits. “Sorry, Spammy. No need to get worried about me.”

He's too tired to fight on it. He instead scoots closer to Tenna. "Don't str-t-r-ta-" he closes his eyes, breathes deeply.  "Do-don't st-strain."

“… I won’t.” 

Tenna falls silent, then. Maybe Spamton won’t push. Maybe he’ll be too tired to push.

There’s a clatter coming from the living room. The CRT winces. Did Pink drop something? Maybe Spamton didn’t hear it. Please, let Spamton have not heard it.

Unfortunately, though, the little puppet heard it; that grogginess snaps away as paranoia kicks in full throttle. "Wh-wh-what wh-wh4t was that?" He asks, already wiggling to tug the covers off and check.

“I can check,” Tenna says hurriedly, smile strained against his screen. “After all, not much that can go up against a fifteen foot television, right? It’s okay, Spammy. You’re still not feeling great. I can go check.”

“Is ---s-som-some[1]’s here?" He asks, still confused, standing a bit wobbly and attempting to walk down the little cloth stairs they got for him to get to the bed on his own when he needs to. Tenna feels the panic spike, and tries so hard to keep his body language carefully neutral.

 “I — don’t know?” He asks, moving to stand too — but he stumbles a bit, shoulder bracing against the wall as he steps forward. “It’s fine, Spamton, it’s fine, let’s go back to bed…”

"W-whw-whaat are y-y-y0-you-" he stops short when he notices the way Tenna is preferring one shoulder to the other, and when he hops down the last stair, quickly scurries to his lover, obviously worried. "D-D-Did... Did I [DUE] some[         ]?"

“No,” Tenna says, too quickly, and winces. Horror begins to dawn on Spamton as he realizes that something has gone Terribly, Horribly Wrong, even as his Cathode tries to reassure him. “It wasn’t your fault. This was. It was an accident.”

The puppet covers his mouth with both hands. "W–What–wh–4444wh4t did I–I d0>" he whispers, barely able to stutter out the words. 

His feet move before his brain can think. Spamton rushes out the bedroom door and into the hallway, Tenna following after. Pink has just finished bagging up the flush from the couch when the puppet nearly collapses into the living room, heaving heavy breaths. Pink looks up in alarm, seeing his brother in such distress,  the way he freezes, and carefully sets a pillow down on the couch.

"Hey… bro," He greets, cautious. "What—"

"What. Did. I. D-do"

Tenna comes stumbling after. He looks at Pink, screen pleading even without expressions. Pink… sighs. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms.

“I think you already know.”

Spamton goes silent. He turns to Tenna, and  Tenna, like a cornered animal, shrinks. He doesn’t say a word, and can’t bear to look up at Spamton in the eye. His screen has flickered off, one arm hugging around himself while the other stays limp.

Spamton won’t answer. He doesn’t know if he can. The puppet covers his mouth, looking away, staring at the ground. The ringing in his head goes off, and with that, it’s clear that there’s only one thing going through the little mailman’s mind.

I hurt him. I hurt him. I hurt him.

Looking between the two, Pink sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “— Spams,” he says, voice going hoarse. “You didn’t mean to. The big guy told me everything. It was an accident.”

"A-a-ac-cide-[DENT]?” He stutters out, "A-a-cci-dents a-are [CRYING OVER SPILT MILK?] o-or b-break-[KING] a plate. N-Not this."

“Spams, you know you didn’t mean it—”

“it was my fault,” Tenna interrupts, desperate now. His voice is on edge, his hands are shaking. “It was my fault, I didn’t take care of you, I promised Pink I would do better and I messed up and I’m sorry but it’s, it’s not your fault.”

“A. . .

AHAHAEHEAHEA!

AHEAHEAHEAHAHEA!!!”

Spamton laughs; it's a sharp sound that makes his jaw click with each syllable. The puppet runs his hands through his hair. "Are you [$&@!]ing [this is serious] right now?" He speaks a little clearer as his anger grows. "I flip out on you and you [$&@!]ing blame yourself and completely [$&@!]ing igg-ig-ig[NOR] that I [X-SLASH] out, I hurt you. YOU didn't do aaaa-a-ann[KNEE]thing, I can't [THINK!] of any way you could [$&@!]ing be at fault here. Stop making it about YYYYYY00000Uuu!" He yells. Tenna shrinks with every outburst. Every angry emphasis on a word. Every time Spamton snarls, he grows smaller. Spamton gasps, breaths heaving, as he starts to laugh again, tugging his hair. 

“AHEAHEAHEAHEAHEA! I -- I! 

I --I'm." He slumps, like his strings are cut. Tenna darts forward  and places a hand against one of the puppet’s knee ball joints. "I'm-m-m, I'm-I'm so s0 s0orryy,” He whispers, hands digging into his hair. "I d-do-don't-t want t-to be c-cr-az-cr-[         ]."

“You’re not crazy!” Tenna insists. “You’re sick. That’s not your fault, love letter! And I promised, I’d be with you, in sickness and in health, and I don’t — I let you run away back then! I’m not — going to let you go now. Never again!” Tears spring to his screen as he lowers his CRT head, resting it against Spamton’s leg. “Never…”

“W-W-wouldn'-t-t wouldn't it [BE BETTER!],” the small Darkner asks, looking up at Pink — unable to look at Tenna’s groveling form. Pink's gaze on Spamton is sympathetic, at least, though it’s cear that the addison doesn’t quite know what to say, watching this train wreck in slow motion. “—w-with me [GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN]? G-Gone a-an-and not.. n-not..." He stares at his hands, flexing and hating the clicking noises.

“I can’t lose you again,” Tenna snarls. The tears drip down, down, down, hitting the plastic of Spamton’s limbs. The puppet shivers at the feeling, the way they slide down and get inside the little cracks and joints. Tenna’s hands squeeze at the puppets shirt, clinging to him. “You’re mine. I won't let you go. I’m never — I won’t ever let you go again. Don't leave me. Please, please, don’t leave me.”

He doesn't say anything in response — just slumps down to hug the television Darkner. He is stock still, almost like the dead, eyes squeezed shut. Maybe if he squeezes them hard enough, he'd open them and things would be normal. 

They hold each other in silence for a long time. Long enough that Pink moves to stand and starts to clean again; the occasional sniffle coming from Tenna is the only noise coming from the two darkners. Tenna clings to Spamton, scared that if he lets go, the puppet will disappear again.

“You won’t leave. Right? You won’t leave me here?” Tenna whispers to break the silence, after a long moment just clinging.

"I-I-I-I don't w-w-an-wanna [LEAF]." He replies. "B-But I-I-I d-don't wan-want to st-stay and [HURTING YOU SOFTLY], either."

“You can’t leave me!” Tenna spurts up a few inches, now bigger than Spamton. He holds the puppet in his lap, burying his face against the small man’s hair. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you. I won’t. I promised to take care of you. I promised so, so hard. I can’t … y-you can’t run out on me again.” Spamton remains quiet, but gently takes a hold of Tenna's shirt. Another sniffle, before he adds, firm, trying to ignore the shake and tremble of his voice, “You’re mine. I lost you once but I won’t lose you again. Until darkness do we part. I promised you that, Spamton. I did.”

He sighs, shakily, and nods. "I [KNOWS]. I [KNOWS]."

“I love you.” Tenna squeezes. Pink is quietly looking away from them, arms crossed, expression unreadable.  “I love you. Promise you won’t leave.”

"I p-p-promise." He says, voice soft, trying to calm Tenna. "I [ HYPERLINK BLOCKED ] y-you yoo- too."

Pink watches them. He watches the way Spamton and Tenna slot together, clinging to each other like lifelines. It’s only then, that the Addisons silently promises himself that he’ll help Tenna and Spamton, however he can. 

Even if it all ends in heartbreak.