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Tenna was surprised, having to do a double take when he saw the time displayed on his desk clock. Gosh, when did it become midnight? Mike’s heads-up that the staff were leaving felt like it had only been a few minutes ago, rather than the three hours that had actually passed in his paperwork induced stupor.
He'd been trying to be better about late night work sessions, due to the impact on his health.
Turns out, a weeks’ worth of all-nighters caused you to pass out on stage mid performance, panicking your staff and scaring the ever-loving shit out of your co-host/business partner.
He still remembered how Spamton looked once he woke up. Jacketless, down to his shirt and suspenders, hair a mess from nervously running his hands through it, with luggage worthy bags under his eyes.
Apparently he’d been up and taking care of Tenna the whole time he was out, having done a full maintenance check and cleaning on him while he was unconscious.
Spamton had actually teared up a little when he woke up, a fact both he and Spamton would never speak of. Spamton out of embarrassment, Tenna out of respect.
Spamton…he’d barely seen him since curtains, both of them too busy with individual work to get a chance to see each other.
He glanced at the clock again, gaze flicking back and forth between the time, and the unfinished paperwork on his desk.
Tomorrow was a Monday…and the family was visiting the Holidays for dinner, so tomorrow wouldn’t be very busy…
He could wrap up for the night and go see Spamton. He knew he was still here, he and Spamton were alike in that way, both being major workaholics. If there was work to still be done, he was doing it.
Besides, Spamton would have said something if he was leaving, probably would have come to Tenna’s dressing room himself to take him out for late night drinks.
Hey, that sounded pretty good, actually. He could grab a bottle from Rambs bar and some glasses and share a drink with him. They hadn’t been able to all week, now would be a perfect time!
He cleaned up the papers, organizing them into folders and leaving post it notes on each one, just so he’d know what to do the next morning, and slipped out of his dressing room, making a beeline for the green room.
He opened the backroom door to the bar, and began to browse the shelves, contemplating what to drink. It had been pretty cold lately, December was right around the corner, and they were already planning out the upcoming holiday specials. Something warm would definitely be preferable…
There was that one spiced brandy he’d been meaning to try, and it’d be fitting for the season. Besides, as much as Spamton was loathe to admit it, Tenna knew how much he loved stuff like that, fruit and spices and the like. He thought it messed with his image, for some dumb reason he couldn’t be bothered to understand.
He grabbed the bottle from the lower shelf, and two appropriate glasses, tucking the bottle under his arm and straightening up as he made his way to Spamton’s dressing room.
There was a pep in his step as he walked, as he found himself looking forward to seeing Spamton more and more. That had been happening to him a lot lately, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He always missed Spamton a little when he wasn’t around, but the deep craving to always be around him had been getting worse and worse as time went on.
Tenna just felt like he could be himself around Spamton. No overselling reactions and fake laughs, suppressed emotions and held in complaints. He could bitch and moan and talk genuinely, and Spamton would actually listen! Even talk in turn, instead of just sitting there in silence. Their back and forth was something Tenna had never found in another person before, and it was so wonderfully addicting, he doesn’t know how he lived without it!
He was aware that Spamton wasn’t the nicest person. He could be a real asshole, he was well aware of that fact, believe him. But it felt like no one before Tenna had even thought to just actually sit down, talk to, and listen to the guy every once in a while. Like, actually listen.
Because honestly, once you got past all the bragging and defensive bullshit, Spamton was a really interesting person. Much more than just the cocky big shot plastered on billboards and throwing his weight around.
He didn’t just work in emails and advertising, apparently. Tenna was shocked when he realized Spamton had personally designed and built the first Cungadero prototype. That said prototype had been redesigned, modded and tinkered with, until it became Spamton’s new, current vehicle.
He seemed kind of embarrassed by it, which greatly confused Tenna. Apparently it was ‘inappropriate’ for a put-together man such as himself to even look at a wrench, much less be a mechanic. Him and that stupid image of his.
Tenna understood, to an extent; he had an image to maintain too after all. A family friendly show host, charismatic and kind, cheerful and energetic! It wasn’t easy, angel above did it get difficult sometimes. But it was necessary, and at the end of the day, he still enjoyed it.
But the way Spamton went on about himself worried him sometimes. Like he was obsessed with being this infallible, perfect figure. Can’t let people know he’s a mechanic, that’s ‘inappropriate’. Can’t let them know he’s an artist, that’s lame, you can’t make money off of that. Can’t let them know he plays the piano, that’s pansy shit. He knew Spamton struggled with being vulnerable, but no matter how much he tried to tell him that no, passions and hobbies aren’t useless and weird, Spamton adamantly refused to accept it.
It was stuff like that that Tenna liked most about him anyways. Those little moments and peeks behind the mask were some of his favorite things about Spamton.
Speaking of, he’d walked past his dressing room, having nearly hit the wall as he reached a turn in the hallway. Damn it, he’d completely zoned out. That’s what sappy daydreams about your business partner got you.
As he walked back towards the door, he realized that it was cracked open; a beam of light shining through gap and casting a beam against the wall. Once he was in front of the door, the faint sound of music could just barely be heard; the sound muffled by the door. The crackling undercurrent implied he was actually using the record player that Tenna had given him.
A warm feeling in his chest formed at the thought, happy that Spamton had actually appreciated the gift.
The instrumental faded before a new song started a moment later. Tenna was surprised when he actually recognized the song. ‘Everybody Loves Somebody’…
Spamton listened to Dean Martin? Spamton listened to cheesy oldies in his dressing room?
And then he heard singing. Two voices, just barely out of sync.
“Everybody loves somebody sometime, everybody falls in love somehow,” Spamton sang along from behind the door.
Tenna stood stock still, as if moving an inch would alert Spamton to his presence.
“Something in your kiss just told me, my sometime, is now.”
His screen warmed, his mechanical heartbeat picking up in his chest.
Spamton could sing. Worse, he was good.
Spamton had always rejected Tenna’s requests to hear him sing, be it during stage performances or something as simple as karaoke at a bar in Cyber City. “Trust me Cathode, nobody wants to hear me screeching like a cat in heat,” he’d said to him one night over drinks, after one of Tenna’s many requests to hear his voice.
For someone with such a humongous ego, Spamton thought really low of himself sometimes. ‘Screeching cat’ his ass! Spamton was nearly pitch perfect! He wasn’t a professional, clearly, but he had good technique, and his voice didn’t waver in the slightest. He sounded beautiful, a voice that’d fit right in with the likes of Martin and Sinatra… it was utterly enchanting.
He zoned back in, having gotten lost in the music, Spamton’s voice completely overtaking his senses. He had to see him. He slowly pushed the door open, centimeter at a time, silently thanking whoever had recently oiled the door hinges. Once he had the door open enough to just barely peek into his dressing room, his breath caught in his throat, utterly captivated by the sight before him.
Spamton was organizing his room, dancing around with paper stacks and folders from desk to coffee table, dramatically posing on the beat, grinning and content as he sung his heart out along to the music.
“If I had it in my power, I’d arrange for every girl to have your charms,” he spun, fist to his chest as he waltzed across the room, using his hip to bump a drawer on his desk closed.
“Then every minute, every hour; Every boy would find what I found in your arms.”
Tenna let out a small, lovesick sigh, a fond smile curling onto his features as he watched Spamton dance. It was adorable, he could probably watch him forever if he was able.
He wished he was dancing with him in there, that Spamton would hold his hands like those papers, grin at him like that, instead of an audience of none in his dressing room.
It’s those thoughts, that finally made something click in his head, a realization that made his heart stutter and hot steam threaten to expel from his vents, screen glowing a vivid pink, bordering on fuchsia from the tinges of flustered red.
“Everybody loves somebody sometime-And although my dream was overdue-”
Tenna wanted Spamton close, to a near obsessive degree. To hold his hands and dance with him, watch him smile and laugh without a care in the world. That all Spamton had to do was wink and throw out one of his signature nicknames, and it would take all of Tenna’s willpower to stay composed, making his heart swell and his knees go weak.
It had been easy to assume it was nothing more than friendship, or just a byproduct of being close business partners; Tenna had never experienced either kind before Spamton, so he assumed it was just part of the package.
But this wasn’t that. This was-This was-
“Your love made it well worth waiting, For someone like you-” Spamton spun around to face the door, choosing that precise moment to actually pay attention to his surroundings. He froze mid-note, an arm and leg suspended in the air from an interrupted pose, as he locked eyes with Tenna’s glowing, flustered face.
Seconds felt like an eternity as the two stared each other down. Tenna’s screen skipped fuchsia entirely, abruptly glowing bright red, as Spamton’s entire body turned pink in embarrassment. The fact that he was just now learning Spamton was a full body blusher was not helping his current situation.
And Spamton looked at him. And he looked at Spamton. The two were at a standstill, Tenna could practically see the gears turning in Spamton’s head.
Tenna slowly began to close the door, the hinges deciding now was the perfect time to creak of course. He’d laugh at the timing in any other situation.
The motion seemed to snap Spamton out of it. “HEY!” He rushed to the door, prying his fingers into the gap to try and pull it open. Tenna would have fought him, but he really didn’t want to risk crushing his fingers, so he let the door open.
“The hell do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on a guy like that! Watching me like some kind of-!”
Spamton trailed off, looking up and down at the state Tenna was in.
Screen beet red and steam trailing out of the vents on the side of his head, face completely gone from his screen, the surface blank. He was carrying a bottle of spiced brandy and two glasses, all three clinking together in tandem as Tenna’s hands started to shake, he’d gone down a couple of inches from the nerves.
Oh. Tenna just wanted to have a drink with him.
Damn it.
“Uh…Tens-”
“I’m sorry…” Tenna said, voice wavering. “I didn’t mean to bother you I’ll just-I’ll leave you alone,” he almost moved away, before Spamton grabbed his arm.
“Hey, slow your roll big guy!” Spamton said, pulling Tenna into the room. “You just scared the shit outta me, that’s all.”
“You’re…not mad?” His blush faded, his face returning with a hopeful, timid tinge to his voice.
Spamton rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not. Just stop staring at me like a pervert through the door and we’re good, yeah?”
And the red returned, right on cue. “Spamton!”
“What?! You were the one creeping on me, that shits on you!”
“It’s not like I did it on purpose! You were just-” Tenna paused, clearing his throat to compose himself. “You were having fun. You were so caught up in the music it was…captivating. I didn’t want you to stop,” he said, voice soft and honest, trying his best to maintain eye contact with Spamton.
He smiled fondly, almost reverent. “For someone who claims he sings like a cat in heat, you have a lovely voice.”
The pink returned to Spamton’s skin, more vivid, as he turned away scoffing. “Yeah, sure. You don’t gotta butter me up Ant, I’m already gonna drink with you.”
Tenna frowned, setting the bottle and glasses on the coffee table to free his hands.
“Spammy, I’m not buttering you up. Your voice is lovely. I’m not sure how I can make that any clearer,” Tenna said, taking a seat on the couch to be more at Spamton’s eye level.
Spamton sighed and shook his head, releasing a light deprecating chuckle, pastel pink turning more solid.
“And here I thought you actually had decent taste Tens. Guess taste really is subjective, huh?”
Tenna’s frown deepened. He crossed one leg over the other, staring Spamton down. It made him a little uncomfortable.
“Spam. What do I have to do?”
Spamton’s eyes widened a little in confusion and surprise. “What?”
He folded his arms across his chest, straightening his shoulders. He wasn’t used to seeing Tenna this serious about something so little. “To make you believe me. What do I have to do?”
The two went quiet, staring each other down as they tuned back into the environment. Among the distantly ticking wall clock and the low hum of the ventilation; the record player was still playing, having moved on to another song. ‘-Somethings gotta give, Something's gotta give, Something's gotta give.’ Surprisingly fitting. Spamton seemed to come to the same realization, chuckling at the coincidence, Tenna joining him not long after; Effectively defusing most of the tension as their laughter filled the room.
“That fucking phonograph is haunted, I swear. Way too much of a coincidence,” he laughed as he sat down next to Tenna, making himself comfortable while Tenna poured the drinks.
“It’s timing is impeccable if nothing else,” Tenna agreed, handing Spamton his glass.
The two toasted, before taking drinks together.
Spamton sighed contentedly, the warmth of the drink washing over him as he took in the taste. Spiced and sweet, with a faint orange and apple taste among the mulled spice, leaving a satisfying burn on his throat as it went down.
“Good stuff.”
“Agreed.”
There was a moment of silence between them as the song continued to play, just barely verging on awkward as the two sat with their drinks. Tenna folded his hands onto his lap, swallowing down his trepidation as he turned to fully face Spamton.
“You never answered my question.”
Spamton clenched his glass. Right. He couldn’t avoid that forever. Well, he could try but Tenna was just as stubborn as he was. Besides it was late, he was tired, they were in private together, drinking and relaxing while the phonograph played…
Oh, what the hell.
“You want an answer?” he asked, setting his glass down on the coffee table. He sighed a long, drawn-out sigh, leaning back against the couch with crossed arms, while Tenna patiently yet eagerly awaited his answer.
“Tell me why you care.”
Tenna startled. “Huh?”
“Why do you care so much about that stuff? About whether or not I can sing, or dance or draw or play the piano…” he trailed off, fiddling with the rolled-up cuffs of his sleeves, looking away from Tenna while he talked.
“Why do you care so much?”
If you had asked him twenty minutes ago, he could have given a much simpler answer, one right off the top of his head, no hesitation.
‘Because I like you Spammy, you’re my friend!’ ‘We’re partners, and I like seeing you happy.’ ‘Can’t have my favorite co-host down in the dumps, when his talent deserves to be appreciated.’ He could say any of those things-and yes all those things were technically true but…
It just never felt right. Calling him his ‘Friend’ or ‘co-host’ were true but never felt like they could properly sum up their relationship. And calling him his partner, in the platonic sense, just left him feeling a little hollow. The term was better, but not quite right.
The idea of ‘something more’ had crossed his mind before, but he’d always shot it down. He didn’t like Spamton like that, as much as the thought made his heart flutter and his face go warm and red.
Now the idea of something more sounded as scary as it did thrilling. Because much to his dismay and happiness, he did want Spamton like that. Who knew all it would take to realize it is watching Spamton dance and sing like an adorable dork around his dressing room. So what could he say?
‘Because I care about you.’ ‘Because you mean a lot to me, and I want you to be able to relax around me.’ “Because I think you’re amazing, and I wish you saw the same thing in yourself.” Once again, all true, but nothing felt right-
“Ant?” Spamton said, and Tenna’s heart ached at the worry in his voice. He seemed anxious, like he was already expecting rejection or worse.
Shit he was being put on the spot! Screw it, just say the first thing that comes to mind!
“Because I love you!”
And just like that, the whole world comes to a screeching halt. Like everything else fell away, the universe reduced to the two of them on a casting couch, staring each other down in the dressing room. Tenna felt his inner mechanisms stop for a moment, face burning and steam beginning to pour out his vents from the embarrassment, once he fully processed what he’d just said.
Spamton was in a similar boat, eyes as wide as dinner plates with his mouth hung open in shock, the confession nearly bowling him over as he was now nearly laying flat against the cushions. Like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, like his whole world was crashing down around him; and something about that made Tenna’s heart sink.
And of course, the resounding silence gave way to the phonograph, the lack of talking allowing them to hear the music once more.
‘-And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you.’
Tenna was going to kill himself, why did it have to be Frank Sinatra?! And that song out of his entire discography!
He could feel himself shrinking, burying his head in his hands as the world around him grew out of reach, as he was rapidly approaching Spamton’s size and dropping. He wanted to groan, wanted to cry and scream and flip the table because seeing Spamton like that made his heart ache and he hated this; he shouldn’t have said anything, he should have just left, he should-
“Ant.” Spamton said, clearing his throat to expel the wavering from his voice. He sounded serious but…Huh? Spamton didn’t sound angry. Why wasn’t he angry?
“Ant, look at me.” Tenna curled inwards towards his legs, now only about two feet tall, resembling a small, sad oval more than a person. He held back a sob, staticky tears pricking at the corners of nonexistent eyes.
Spamton sighed, running his hand through his hair. God, he didn’t want to say it but…Ugh.
“Please?” he asked, voice strained, like it was a physical struggle to say.
Tenna looked up at that, sniffling. Spamton never said please. So for him to say it now… Tenna met his eyes. Spamton’s mouth was pressed into a determined line, staring him down, almost making Tenna want to shrink down further. But he held his ground. Spamton clearly had something to say. Whatever it was…he could take it. He didn’t want to, but he could. Probably.
“Sorry…” Tenna sniffled, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Go ahead. Do whatever you want.”
To his surprise Spamton actually perked up a little; the determined line turned to a smirk, as he scooped Tenna up into his arms, making him yelp in surprise.
“Wow Cathode, ‘whatever I want’, huh? Not sure you know what you’re asking for here,” he teased, wrapping his arms around Tenna’s lower back as he plopped Tenna into his lap. Like something had lit a fire inside him. Whatever it was, he couldn’t complain, he was just glad Spamton was happy. Though the ‘why’ definitely confused him.
Underneath his newfound confidence, Tenna could see he was nervous in the way he was white knuckling the grip he had on his shirt; shoulders squared and breath steady as he tried to keep calm. But he was still smiling, still holding him, and it made him feel so warm-he never wanted him to let go.
“Whatever I want?” Spamton clarified, eyebrow raised, voice low. It made Tenna’s heart stutter, happiness and anticipation at whatever Spamton was planning making him grow, he probably stopped at around six feet; the twos’ positions reversed with Spamton now in his lap.
“Whatever you want Spammy~,” Tenna whispered, genuine and hopeful.
Spamton took a deep breath. Yep, he couldn’t do this anymore. He was going to lose his nerve. He scrambled for his glass and downed the rest of his drink, coughing as he pounded his chest. Tenna’s smile fell as he leaned down to see what was wrong. “S-Spammy! What was that about-?”
Spamton grabbed him by the front of his shirt pulling him down to his level as he steeled himself. “Liquid courage,” he asserted, and he closed the distance.
Color bars flashed across his screen from the surprise, taking a moment to recover before melting into the kiss, massaging Spamton’s back as he leaned back against the arm rest. Kissing on tv always seemed so magical; all dramatic music and orchestral flourishes, panning camera angles and fireworks as the characters lost themselves in the throes of passion, at least in a way that was appropriate for TV.
Now having experienced actual kissing, he had come to a conclusion. Real life kissing was so much better than the stuff on TV. Seeing it was one thing, but to actually feel it! To feel Spamton’s wandering hands run across his chest and grip his shoulders, content sighs and low whines being lost to his mouth. Running his hands through Spamton’s loose, soft hair, scratching the back of Spamton’s neck as he chittered like a bird, the sound making his heart sing. It was all perfect.
‘-If this is just the beginnin', My life is gonna be – beautiful~!’
Heh. Even the phonograph could tell.
He would kiss him forever if he could, but Spamton was running out of air and Tenna was in desperate need of a breather as the two finally separated; faces inches apart as they caught their breath, flustered and panting. Spamton’s hair was a complete mess, his body pink, a pleased smile on his face, and looking utterly kissable, Tenna couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, peppering kisses all over his face and neck. Spamton laughed airily, pushing Tenna away a bit. “Geez Tens, give me a sec to breathe wouldja?” he laughed, the hand that pushed him away caressing the side of his head, and Tenna leaned into the touch.
“Can’t help it. Don’t be so kissable if you don’t wanna get kissed Spammy,” he teased, moving his head to kiss Spamton’s palm.
Spamton laughed, rolling his eyes. “Heh, if I knew you were gonna be like this, I woulda bit the bullet a lot sooner,” he commented, moving to wrap his arms around Tenna’s neck, laying down on his chest.
Tenna’s antennae drooped a bit, fond smile turning slightly somber as he averted his gaze. “I kinda wish you did. I might have realized I liked you a lot sooner if you had…” he trailed off, before locking eyes with Spamton, a dopey, eager smile on his face. “Guess we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”
Spamton grinned, utterly captivated by Tenna’s eagerness. Oh he could definitely get used to this.
“I suppose we do.”