Chapter Text
“Spamton!” Tenna called out. Their late-night speci(a)l had ended a good thirty or forty-five minutes ago, but that lovely salesman was nowhere to be seen.
“Uh, Mike?” He called out again, slightly quieter.
“Yeah, Boss?” Yelled a voice from the hall outside his break room.
“Can you find Mr. Spamton for me? I really gotta talk to him.”
“Sure. Be warned, though, the guy darted off the moment I cut the lights. He looks t’ be in a bad mood.”
Tenna huffed, rubbing his temple. He hated seeing people angry. Always had. He was seeing it more often within the Dreemur household, but that didn't mean he would get used to it. He needed a drink. Getting up, he strolled over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of battery acid. Queen had recommended the stuff to him, and now was a better time than ever to try it. He poured himself out a glass and chugged. It was the worst thing he had ever tasted. Almost immediately, he stumbled over to a trash can, shrunk down a few feet, and spit it out, attempting to wipe the taste off of his tongue. In the middle of his caper, he looked over and saw a certain white silhouette.
“Spam–pluh–Spammy! Where did you go?” Tenna nervously said, standing up straight again and adjusting his tie as if nothing had happened.
“To go [spare change?] I really can't leave you alone, can I, Ant?” Spamton replied moodily, stretching a little.
“I'd prefer you didn’t! I asked Mike about you, he's probably still looking. I gotta ask you something, pal,” Tenna threw the entire hundred-something dark dollar bottle in the garbage, “It's silly, but I just want to have your input before I do anything.”
“Yeah?” Spamton sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs that was much too big for him. Tenna would get him a personalized one soon, he hoped.
Tenna clenched his shoulders and breathed out. He walked back towards Spamton, sat down across from him and intertwined his large fingers. His chair awkwardly creaked. Spamton noticed the usually bright expression on his screen was more shyly faded. He cleared his throat, tugged at his collar, and asked his guilty question.
“Do you want to sleep together, Spammy?”
“WHAT?” Spamton choked out, his mouth hanging open like a suffocating fish.
“Oh, gosh, not like that! You just look like you're in a bad mood, I was wondering if we could cuddle and fall asleep in each other's arms!” He looked upwards, blushing and grinning like a dork.
“How romantic. You gotta stop wording shit like that. Anyway, sure, and you're right, I'm not in a [Great!] mood.”
At that, Tenna grew a few inches and a flower bloomed at the tip of his nose. He ran to the other side of the break room table and scooped Spamton up into his arms, breaking into a skippy jog. The little salesman bashfully looked behind him, humiliated by how small he felt. Tenna’s nonexistent brow furrowed, noticing his hunched posture, and took in a deep breath. Spamton stared at him, confused at what he was doing, as the larger man stopped dead in his tracks. That was, until he shrunk back down to around his size. He shook out his antennas, adjusting to the shift in weight, as he darted back down the hall to their incredibly secluded bedroom.
“Alright, sit right here, I've gotta change,” Tenna said, gently throwing Spamton onto their bed and gleefully hopping to his bathroom, waving back towards him as he went out of sight.
Spamton wondered what he could have possibly been changing into. They had both already gotten out of their formal attire. He shrugged it off, mildly disobeying what Tenna had asked of him by turning on the lamp and going under the sheets. He turned to face the wall, where awards for both his partner and him were carefully organized on the wall. He rolled the other way, hearing heavy footsteps come through the doorway. He stared, slack-jawed, as he witnessed the sight in front of him.
There stood Tenna, wearing an incredibly stereotypical nightgown with red stripes. Spamton attempted to hold back his laughter, but ended up doubling over and giggling against his will. He looked so dumb, to think this was the leader of TV World, the man who had hundreds of employees held under an iron fist and maybe millions of fans. That was his man, alright. Tenna looked jokingly hurt and sat down beside him, giving him a toothy smile.
“Do you feel better yet?” He asked, tilting his head and laying himself down.
“YeAHAHAHaha…Sorry. The fashion choice for tonight is just, uh…Tacky.” Spamton tried to refrain from giggling again.
“T-Tacky!? Aww…I thought it was awfully cute!”
“Look, Ant, you've got a handsome face, but you can't pull everything off.”
Tenna’s screen reddened a little, and he grabbed Spamton and hoisted him onto his chest. For how large and confident he seemed, he sure was awkward with him. It was like he'd never dated anyone before. Had he dated anyone? The poor idiot box seemed too busy for friendship, and by extension romantic endeavors. Maybe at some point, when you got too well-known, you couldn't be known at all. Spamton cleared his throat to actually ask,
“Am I the first guy you've ever been with?”
“Oh god, is it really that obvious? I'm sorry I'm being so weird...” Tenna said, wrapping his arms around the much smaller Darkner.
“Don't be ashamed! Hell, you're more naturally successful than I'll ever naturally be, maybe you're the true [Winner! Winner!]”
“Thanks, Spammy. I think you're gonna be just as famous as me soon, just you wait!”
“Aww, you really think so?”
Spamton subconsciously tugged on Tenna’s antennas, making him yelp involuntarily and push him away. He shook his head and rubbed his sore stalks as Spamton profusely apologized and flopped back onto him. His stomach, which he had splayed across, had not a metallic texture, but rather a softer feeling, padded with silicone. Tenna had explained it was to make him look less like a skeleton, but he frankly thought he appeared a bit chubby. Not that either of them cared. All that mattered was that they looked natural to their audience.
“Mind if I use you as a pillow, big guy?” Spamton cheekily asked, making himself at home on Tenna's chest.
“Nope! As long as you're happy, I'm happy. I…are you petting me?” If Tenna had eyes he would be blinking curiously.
“Yeah. Do you care?” He scratched behind his dial casually, resting his chin on his arm.
“I don't. Ahh…keep doing that, actually!”
Tenna gave a wide grin, curling up into Spamton to kiss him on the forehead and nuzzle his nose. He was quite soft and fuzzy, but parts of his body were sharp and prickly with sprouting tufts of feathers. He relaxed himself, accidentally thumping into the bed frame and hurting his head again. His weird little partner petted him on the head with pity, hopping off of his chest to the other side of the bed. Tenna shook his head, his screen producing a bit of static, before he actually put his head on his pillow.
“Mind turning me off, Spam?” He mumbled into the satin, antennas drooping.
“Nah, hold on.” Spamton flicked the TV’s dial, making sure to scratch him a bit more as his screen went black.
“...Thanks. You can be the big spoon tonight. See ya’ tomorrow, Spamt…on…” He yawned, salvaging the last bit of strength he had to curve his back towards him.
Spamton stared towards the sleeping figure, wrapping his legs and arms around him like a koala and trying to join him. They had left a couple of lights on, but who cared? Comfort mattered more in the moment, they had a huge number of people that could deal with such an inconvenience. They were big, for God's sake. Never in his lifetime had he felt so comfortable, and powerful, and frankly, adored. Maybe with him moving up a few tax brackets, they could go somewhere tropical for a while together. They could have actual, legitimate fun together. He would never be as famous as Tenna, but he was so, so close. He would never sabotage the poor guy just for fame, though. The thought of doing that to someone so pathetic was heartbreaking to him. Knowing he'd never leave, he closed his eyes and drifted off.