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His coffee was bitter.
With a surprised peak to his feedback, Tenna put the cup down on the table beside his director’s chair. All things considered, the cup looked fine. It had the whipped cream on top, all twelve red sprinkles, with a singular green one right in the middle. The thick, boba-like straw sticking through the whip, since the little ones wouldn’t let him get enough coffee in one sip. It was iced, like he had to have it nowadays. He wasn’t young, not like he once was, where his fans and AC rods would be able to cool him down after a hot cup of sweetened coffee.
It was one thing he missed, but he pushed the thought aside in favor of thinking about why his coffee tasted like . . . that.
He lifted his screen to look up and around the studio as all the different Darkners were bustling around him, two fingers propped under his chassis as his elbow rested against the armrest of the chair. There were so many different kinds, nowadays, since the move to Castle Town.
---
It had been rough, at the beginning. He’d fully believed that he had no use, that he was just an inch away from being thrown out, if Susie couldn’t find a place for him.
“Why don’t ya start broadcastin’ for the Darkners’ that live in the Town?”
Tenna sighed as he recalled those words that had changed everything. Spoken when he was one too many glasses into an infinite amount of gin and tonic, screen flat against the bar at the “cafe” of Castle Town. His hand was wrapped around said glass, still, the condensation and coolness of the ice the only sensation that had kept him still afloat.
He’d looked up then, flicking his screen on, to see that damned green Pippins in front of him. The one that had admitted to being Mike - well, one of Mike - the one that Tenna had talked to the most, the one that he had shared more of his insecurities with than anyone in the entire universe, the one that likely knew him more than anyone in his entire life.
The same Pippins that Tenna had really been trying to avoid, up till that point.
“Wha’?” The showman had slurred, head tilting slightly so he could press the side of his screen against the bar, to stop the entire world from revolving around him, “Wha’ do you mean?”
“What I mean is,” That infuriating Pippins had snipped at him, climbing the stool beside him and plucking the glass from his hand. He’d thrown it behind the bar, the sound of the thick glass clattering into a sink ringing through Tenna’s head, even in the present, “You get off ya sorry ass, go hire back ya studio, and start broadcastin’ to the residents here. There’s plenty of people that wanna watch TV, Tenna. You’re just so damn focused on the Lightners that ya can’t see that there’s viewers down here, too.”
---
It had changed everything.
Battat, he’d come to learn, was right. There were dozens of people who lived in Castle Town, and the Heroes kept bringing more throughout their adventures. Some wanted to work in the studio - with decent salaries - and some just wanted to watch. They wanted to watch Tenna. He still couldn’t believe it!
The three Mikes, Battat, Jongler, and Pluey, had been the first to return to their posts. The first two, without their costumes, though Pluey was insistent that she keep hers. She liked it, she told Tenna - she’d never really fit in with the rest of the Shadowguys. And Tenna didn’t have much of a reason to fight that - he still enjoyed having a Pluey Mike around.
Which brought Tenna back to today. Where his coffee was bitter and everything else seemed to be slightly off. Someone was yelling off to the side, a prop seemed to be flat on the ground. His own suit hadn’t been ironed that morning, which had been aggravating in and of itself. Apparently, there hadn’t been donuts in the break room, either, and he could hear several Darkners grumbling about that under their breaths as they walked by.
He finally spotted Jongler and stood, fingers wrapping around the abomination in his coffee cup. A few short strides took him over to the Zapper, who looked as though they wanted to be about anywhere else than where they were at the moment.
“Jongler!” Tenna chirped, holding up the cup, “This! Isn’t my usual. What happened?”
“Um, sorry, boss!” JJ offered a hand out to take it, but Tenna shook the cup slightly, expecting an answer, “I don’t knows how to work the coffee pots very well. The buttons are too small. What - I thoughts I followed the instructions-”
Tenna watched as the Zapper reached for their pocket, rummaging as they pulled out a small wad of sticky notes. They unstuck a few, frantically seeming to search for one before offering it to Tenna, “This your coffee, right, boss?”
Tenna took the note and pursed his lips, scanning it. The handwriting was familiar, but it was . . off, not quite as orderly as it usually was. His tail swished side to side as he let out a hum, looking at Jongler, “Where is Battat? This is his handwriting, isn’t it? Why is he having you make my coffee?”
Jongler rubbed the back of their neck and stuffed the rest of the sticky notes back into their pocket, looking out over the absolute dumpster fire that was the studio at the moment, “Wells, Boss is just, he’s-”
There was a string of jazz notes from behind them and Tenna turned around to see Pluey with her paws on her hips, tail swishing agitatedly.
“He’s not feeling well?”
“Plue! You promised hims you wouldn’t tell no one!” Jongler peeked around Tenna to shake their head at Pluey, sighing roughly, “No, he’s not feelin’ well. He woke up feelin’ all sorts of bad. We had ta’ fight him backs into bed. Pluey threatened ta’ staple him to the mattress.”
Pluey sung out a few more notes and came over, rubbing her cheek against Jongler’s shoulder as she looked up at Tenna, sighing and flinging her hands out.
Tenna let out a little huff of a laugh, “Tried to get a swing in on JJ and then fell over? Doesn’t sound like him.”
“He really didn’t want ta stay in tha’ room.” Jongler shrugged and then they quickly twisted, “Aw, shoot, I gotta- HEY- put that DOWN!” And they quickly strode off toward a group of Darkners that were struggling to carry a rather large prop onto the stage.
Pluey let out a soft whistle, to get Tenna’s attention, and then she smiled at him, holding out her paw at him. In it, was a small golden key. It had an “M” emblazoned on the top, and Tenna knew that it was the key to get into the Mike’s room. His screen fuzzed over for a moment and he looked back up at her.
“What-”
A soft song tugged at his chest as she reached her other hand out toward the one that wasn’t holding the coffee. She tucked the key into it and folded his fingers around it. She winked at him and then padded off after Jongler, slinking herself against their side in greeting before helping to pick up the prop and carting it off toward the stage.
Tenna looked down at the key in his hand and the coffee in his other. The single green sprinkle seemed to laugh at him.
It was an hour or so later before he finally put that key to work. It took him a solid ten minutes of reasoning that he shouldn’t bother Battat if he was sick, then spiralling to what if he was really ill, and needed someone to look after him, to then trying to figure out what to put on the air, to trying to figure out what to bring the Pippins - but he was finally there.
Lanino and Elnina had agreed to run an extra weather segment for him with the help with a few of the other studio workers, as well as a few reruns that were going to play. Tenna didn’t exactly know how long it was going to take him to poke his head in and check in on Battat, but he wanted to be prepared!
Plus, he kind of wanted to . . . get out of the studio for a while. It was a disaster, and he couldn’t really put his thumb onto why.
In one hand, he had a bowl of still warm soup that he had whipped up. Tenna was a chef after all, he had the cooking segment to go along with it! It wasn’t anything special, just some chicken noodle, but he couldn’t even count how many times he’d seen Toriel bring a sickly Asriel or Kris a bowl on the couch, and then flip on cartoons for them to rest to . . .
He shook his head, ridding himself of the nostalgia that seemed to follow his heels half the days. Tenna slipped the key into the lock and pushed the door open, poking his head in and glancing around.
The room was lived in, that was for sure. There was a plush couch to one side, with laundry piled up on one of the seats. A basket full of yarn balls was pushed up to the wall, with more strewn across the floor. On the other side of the room, however, was a desk with several corkboards over it. Tenna’s brow furrowed as he walked over to it, the bowl still settled in his hand. His tail flicked the door shut quietly, footsteps gentle on the carpeted floor.
It was all Battat’s handwriting, he pieced together after just a few cursory glances. And it was . . . everything about the studio. All of the schedules, from the airing, to the meetings, to the advertisement blocks that Tenna still hated dealing with and he’d thrown onto the Pippins without a second thought. There was a half full cup of coffee on the desk itself, as well as several bunched up pieces of paper. A filing cabinet to the side with a half-open drawer showed Tenna all of the employee contracts, neatly organized and color coordinated by different species of Darkner. Hell, there was even a neat pile of receipts of donuts that were bought every single Tuesday and put in the break room.
The static that followed Tenna around constantly peaked to a single sharp noise before it loosened back out to it’s normal buzz. He scrubbed a hand up and down his screen and let out a rough breath, fans whirring as he glanced over the cork boards once more.
“S’there?”
There was a quiet croak from further down in the room, inside a half-closed door.
Tenna knew that voice, almost better than he knew his own, sometimes.
“It’s me!” He chirped, and turned on his heel to head to that door. He pushed it open with his tail, smiling as he poked his head in, “I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I’d come and check in on you!”
“Ngh,” there was a small lump on the bed inside the room, which was pretty small, all things considered. There wasn’t much inside, save for a double bed, a nightstand, and a little golden Tenna statue on said nightstand, “You weren’t s’pposed to find out.”
Tenna slipped inside and set the soup down on the nightstand, rubbing the top of the little gold statue with a fond smile and sitting down on the edge of the bed, “How could I not notice my favorite Pippins not bossing around the entire studio? How are you feeling?”
There was a very long moment of silence before Battat slowly rolled over and his head poked out from the blanket. Tenna’s chest tightened uncomfortably when he saw those green-rimmed eyes, the way his brows were furrowed and the way his cheeks were flushed. Battat’s voice was choked when he spoke, fingers clutching the blanket, “...Like shit,” he mumbled, “Cold, took Pluey’s blankets, but it ain’t enough. My head’s just- feels like I’m made of cotton.”
Tenna reached a hand out automatically and gently cupped the Pippins’ head, thumbing lightly at the pips. Battat gave a ragged sigh, eyes falling further shut as he sunk into his pillows, “I’ve got a foolproof plan, but you can’t go on and freak out when I enact on it~”
Battat raised one eyebrow and then hummed, “Can’t be any worse than what I’m feeling right now.”
Tenna grinned and then picked the Pippins up, sliding his hands under him - and definitely not marveling at how he fit in his palms so easily - and shifting them on the bed so Tenna was curled around Battat, one heavy arm around the Pippins and tucking him underneath his chassis. The hot steam coming from the vents washed over the feverish Darkner and he let out a tiny noise, hands reaching up and gently brushing against the plastic.
Tenna’s tail lashed once against the bed before he forced it to settle.
“Is this alright?” He asked then, one arm under Battat’s head and cradling him there, against his chest.
The smaller Darkner let out a little hum and Tenna could feel his eyelashes as he blinked lazily, curling closer, “Probably s’m dream, I think. So yeah. Some fever dream.”
“You think this is a fever dream?” Tenna couldn’t help himself from letting out a soft giggle, one hand cupping Battat’s side, thumb stroking soft circles.
The Pippins hummed in affirmation, body slowly melting, “Ain’t no way that Mr. Ant Tenna himself comes to my room, with s’m soup, cuddlin’ me while I’m sick.” He scoffed, shaking his head slightly, “He’s got plenty of shit to do in the studio. I’m just some fuckin’ guy who works for him. But this?” Battat’s fingers curled further against the lip of the vents on the side of Tenna’s head, a yawn breaking out, “S’a good dream, at least.”
Tenna’s fingers paused as he recalled the strings across each of the corkboards in the room next door, the rings of coffee on the desk. The empty pens, the endless sticky notes. The way that the entire studio seemed to be falling apart, all because of a single Pippins being laid up in bed.
And that same Pippins believed he wasn’t even worth being taken care of.
Tenna gently resumed thumbing at the pips on the back of Battat’s head, tail swishing idly in the air and thumping against the bed, “Why can’t it be real, then?”
“Cuz,” Battat’s voice was tired, “Like I said, just, a Pippins. I don’t really do enough. Gonna have so much to clean up when I get better. I know JJ is good at their job, Pluey’s good too, but I’m worried . .” he coughed into his elbow, a rattling wheeze, “There’s gonna jus’ be a lot for me to do. Hopefully Tenna don’t mind me takin’ the day off.”
“You think you’re going to feel better by tomorrow?” Tenna asked, incredulously.
The smaller Darkner shrugged, tugging slightly on his sleeves to roll them up. Tenna watched as the fade from green to white came into view, the matte color of his fingers and wrists blending perfectly to the white plastic of his elbows and the rest of his body, right as his fingers tucked themselves back against his vents, “Don’t really matter. I’ll just - I ‘unno. Put on the Mike mask again. Can cough into that. Make sure no one else gets sick. Tell Tenna I was feelin’ nostalgic.”
The showman shifted slightly to look down at Battat, who whined at the loss of the heat from the vents against his fingers. He shifted to press his fingers against Tenna’s chest instead, slipping between the lapels of his jacket, eyes shut and lips parted as he breathed through a congested nose.
“Battat,” Tenna slid his hand from the back of the Pippins head and to the underside of his jaw, tipping his head up and brushing his thumb along the pips under his eye, “I think Tenna would like it much more if you were to lay down and rest and come back feeling spectacular! If you were feeling groggy and glooby - well. What kind of precedent would that put on the rest of the studio?”
Deep green eyes fluttered open and Tenna was met with those fevered irises. He felt his stomach swoop lightly and he kept brushing his fingers on those three little pips, “Imagine! You come back to the studio - and heaven forbid, you make his coffee wrong, because you fell asleep at the maker! And then, you start sneezing inside the Mike helmet, and then you have all of that inside of the mesh, all day long~! Don’t you think that would just absolutely ruin the entire mood?”
Small lips curled into a little pout and he let out a ragged sigh, “I mean, pro’bly.” Battat brought his hand up to cup the hand that was on his face and a tiny smile started to tug at his lips, “Alright. Just till’ ‘m feelin’ better.”
“Good!” Tenna beamed at him and his tail shifted to worm under the blankets, looping around Battat’s leg. He kept stroking his cheek lazily, watching as the Pippins slowly started to drift, eyes sliding shut.
Sleep took him quickly and Tenna couldn’t find it in him to move. He hadn’t been so riveted in watching someone else sleep in - well. A very, very long time. Though his sleep was interrupted frequently with coughs or sneezes, Tenna was able to soothe him back under with a soft murmur or a gentle stroke against his cheek or the top of his head. He didn’t even quite realize how much time had passed until he heard the door to the Mike’s room open and then a voice from the doorway to Battat’s room interrupt his thoughts.
“Youse still here, boss?”
Tenna turned to look over his shoulder, Battat still tucked comfortably against his chest and hidden entirely from view. For some reason - Tenna preferred this. He didn’t want anyone else to see the Pippins tucked into his shirt.
“Yes! I think I’ve convinced him to take the next few days off. And then, I think I’m going to work with him to try and unload some of the work that he does onto other stage managers. He does entirely too much!” Tenna chirped, fingers gently following the lines of one side of the diceboy’s head.
“That’s what I always be telling him.” Jongler sighed, shaking their head, “I like that plan. Let me know if you needs anything. Pluey and I are gonna make dinner. You wants to stay?”
Tenna pursed his lips for a moment before he looked back over his shoulder at the Zapper, someone that he, deep down, knew was a friend, “Yes! I think I’d like that very much. We’ll get Battat up and get him fed and back to bed with him.”
Jongler flashed a few thumbs up and shut the door again, soft voices and melodies through walls letting Tenna know that Pluey was on board with Tenna staying for dinner. His chest rushed with heat, once more, and he tightened his grip on the Pippins in his arms.
He really was home, with people who loved him, who took care of him, and it was about time he started doing the same.