Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spamton had put hard work into building his empire. A world of his own design. Those perfect pop-up islands that his rule relied on. Faux medications, the latest cute outfit, "hot singles in your area" ads. All carefully calculated and calibrated to catch your attention. And at the top of it all stood Spamton himself, a brilliant white Addison that burned with cold but dazzling light that rivaled the sun. It wasn't always this way but Spamton would convince the world it was. That Spamton always shined brighter than a supernova.

After what seemed like years of holding his title as ruler of ADWorld, something new happened. Some little guests arrived. Lightners. How de-light-ful. He could surely appeal to them better if they saw his World in real life. At once he organized mini games upon mini games for those Lightners to enjoy. They'd definitely make excellent contributions to his pockets and his world. He was already putting together expansion plans when he found them in his secret room. *His* secret room. He was already practically flying there. No giant holograms. No smoke and mirrors. Just him and his one pixel shorter than average (which totally wasn't noticable!!!) rage. He walked in just as the Fun Gang threw open one of his secret cabinets to reveal his greatest shame.

A singular photograph of a much younger Spamton sitting with a TV headed Darkner. They wore matching suits and smiles, Spamton clearly the one who insisted on them posing for the picture.

The Fun Gang stood around the photo, Ralsei making some astute observations about the contents, Kris looking at the pink and yellow tie they were wearing, and Susie poking the photo with the end of her axe. Spamton was boiling.

"YOU!" He pointed, running his other and through his hair in a self soothing manner. "Are NOT permitted... IN THIS ROOM!!!" His chest rose and fell with growing anger. It pissed him off more when that blasted Susie retorted with a "why are you so short". He nearly blew his top when the blue one (he was too upset for names) placed their tie on the floor.

In a small glow it transformed. Changing from a rather stylish tie (in Spamton's opinion, as he was never too upset to appreciate great fashion) into a... Rat. Great. The kids broke into his secret room and put a rat on the floor. Perfect. Just perfect.

The rat shifted clunkily along the floor towards his secret photo (so we're just showing everything this secret photo, alright) at first staring in shock before seeming to 'twitch' excitedly (gross). The blue one (still too angry for names) seemed to give it a pep talk, as it had the audacity to scuttle towards him.

"You kept this? You kept this! You care!" The clunky machine that seemed to be holding its own head cheered. Spamton just sneered.

"What even are you? Green one! Get your rat!" He called out to those obnoxious brats. (Ralsei whispered to Kris asking if Spamton was talking to him). The rat seemed to fluster setting down its head to search itself for something.

"Hold on. You don't recognize me. I know what you'll recognize. I know what you'll recognize." At this point Spamton was 'subtly' (blatantly) summoning guards to take these nosey hooligans back to the action. That was when everything changed.

The rat pulled out something that was impossible for it to have. The rat seemed to calm once it had the object in his hands. Spamton stood wide eyed, disgust melting into shock at the sight of the familiar blue object.

A Pipis.

*His* Pipis.

It was unmistakable. That sheen. That shine. That distinct blue hue. Even if all Pipis look the same (as they all generally do) an Addison could recognize their own from a million others. Only one person in this universe ever had something so intimate from Spamton. Only one person meant enough to ever be given one. And that CRT was long gone. Had to be long gone. Because surely that wretched whelp didn't have the nerve to show that ugly screen in *his* ADWorld. The sheer 'Cungaderos' to enter *his* domain, to walk into his green room, to be with *his* Lightner clientele, holding *his* Pipis.

But then he got a closer look at the 'rat' in that pleading position, flipping up his sunglasses to get a real look. That nervous smile. The anxious sparking of his right antenna. The anxious tremble that seemed to course through his body near constantly, Spamton never sure if it was due to nerves or exhaustion. It was...

Familiar.

Too familiar.

If he closed his eyes he could see that familiar memory of his former partner burned on the backs of his eyelids. Those backstage smoke breaks with shared haughty laughter (mostly from Spamton). The casual bar lounging when Spamton would lean against a jittering Boob Tube with a half empty martini glass of battery acid. Walking to set with an annoyingly tall co-host who always had something on his mind but always seemed to talk about something different. Honestly he seemed to say anything as long as it got Spamton's attention. Even when the TV was gone he always seemed to find ways to care, like when Spam would wake up after a night boozing to find himself laid on his side and covered with a blanket. He was more competent than any other ADWorld resident to date. That spectre from those late night drives should have stayed dead. The light from that dying star was snuffed out, leaving Spamton alone to glow brighter in its absence. And burn brighter he did, like a proud sun in center of his own solar system. Yet when he looked at the thing in front of him that dared to sully his Pipis, that dusky screen that flickered on occasion, he saw the afterimage of someone who once tried to share a dying fire.

The edges of his snarl softened, his mouth moving before his brain. Words that should have been screamed instead came out in a stunned hush.

"Tenna?"

Despite his television head resting on the floor, Tenna lit up, grin wide despite being unable to look up. He held the Pipis closer to his chest, an action that caused Spamton's heart to squeeze.

"You remember! You remember!" Tenna was practically singing with joy, pixelated tears falling down his face. The Fun Gang namely Susie and Ralsei were watching this play out jaws dropped in shock. Kris watched the scene unfold unmoved yet Susie kept shaking them and pointing at the weird little TV they adopted. A stunned Spamton looked up from the kneeling figure and immediately bristled at the negative attention. Hot anger flashed across his face.

"Addison Four! Take our "guests" to their next mini game! I'm sure they're just dying to buy a new wardrobe!" A vein visibly pulsed on Spamton's forehead as a pink Addison guided a rowdy group of teenagers towards the shopping district, muttering under his breath about being reduced to a number.

Spamton's eyes drifted from the doorway of his private chamber back to the ghost of the past in front of him. He knelt down to get eye level, the first time he ever stooped really, with an incredulous look on his face.

"It really is you. After all this time." Tenna's toothy grin only grew, antennas now twitching with excitement.

"It's me! It's me!"

Spamton's eyes grew dark, hand slamming down on the floor beside Tenna's head, causing the TV to jump (at least his body to flinch), him shifting to a kneeling position as well to mimic that Cathode traitor. Both hands came to grab the backing of Tenna's head, pulling the TV into his lap with a yelp and forcing him to look him in the eyes. Tenna was once again sweating as profusely as an electronic can. A newfound fire was lit in the Addison by the cheery tone of someone who should have been thoroughly groveling.

"*I* should smash your screen in for all you've done to *me*. You left *me*! Abandoned *me*! Without a word, without a trace. You ditched *me*. And for what? Were you advertising with some other 'Big Shot'? Running off to better things? Because *I* have a news flash for you pal!" Spamton roughly grabbed the non sparking antenna, bringing it close to his mouth so Tenna heard him loud and clear. "*I* DID JUST FINE WITHOUT YOU!" he screamed, Tenna's face dissolving into pixelated discomfort and pain at the noise.

The Pipis in Tenna's arms started quietly chirping, a noise that any Addison would snap to attention for. Scared. Danger. And Spamton's dumb instincts were already causing him to start bristling again at that horrid sound. Yet it was Tenna who acted first, tucking the chirping blue orb half into his jacket again before rocking it. Spamton recoiled from the overly tender action, but what Tenna did next absolutely floored him.

Even though his screen was dark, still in pain, he played a familiar tune that Spamton had long tried to forget. Their old ad jingles they sang together. Specifically the dumb one about toothpaste they used to teasingly say to each other when things were slow on set. Their jingle. The Pipis quieted down at that, returning to silence as Tenna continued to rock. Tenna was the one to break the silence after the ancient jingle ended.

"It's the only thing that calms her down. I didn't want her to forget the sound of your voice." He admitted it like he was ashamed. Spamton's heart once again made a long unfamiliar jump at those words, something he cursed himself for. The Pipis was clearly well taken care of, despite the state the CRT was in. He must have sacrificed a lot for her. Tenna continued. "I didn't want to leave. It's no excuse but it's the truth. I didn't want to leave." Silent tears rolled down [Trash Heap's] face. "I wanted more for her. She deserves better! You deserve better!"

Spamton glared at him before pinching the bridge of his nose and looking away. This was just like some shitty soap opera from some second rate channel. All the crying and sniffling and that damn Pipis! Like seriously?! His hand dragged down his face, his eyes drilling back into the TV kneeling in front of him before closing his eyes again with a loud annoyed sigh.

"You always were so needy." He once again sighed emphasizing the great annoyance in case it was missed the first time. At that he stood up, holding Tenna's head firmly in his hands. Tenna once again jumped at the sudden movement, now blinking (or I guess flashing) in confusion.

"What are you-"

"Get up. You're coming with me." Spamton demanded, glaring down his nose towards the still pleading body. The body made an attempt to follow the instruction, a wobbly hand going down to assist in getting up. But Tenna's entire body trembled at the effort to stand, causing him to nearly crash to the floor. Tenna attempted to blab out an apology but Spamton just groaned again.

"Stars, you can't do anything can you?" The Addison said with a roll of his eyes, preventing Tenna to get a word in otherwise. Instead he shifted Tenna's head under one of his arms while scooping up his body with the other. Tenna flailed a bit, arms unused to anything aside from carrying his head or the Pipis. Eventually they wrapped around Spamton's neck in a loose hold, Pipis securely back in his jacket again.

"Thank you..." Tenna mumbled, clearly not expecting any of this honestly. Spam gave another half-hearted huff before standing up.

"It's not the first time I've carried your sorry ass somewhere." He grumbled, walking off to the actual 'most private room' in this entire domain. They set off towards the elevator, Spamton barking orders to anyone that saw them. If they had time to gawk they had time to actually do shit. Any Pippins or Addisons that dared to annoy him would find themselves on clothes modeling duty for the next millennia. The newly reunited duo continued through the halls, making the occasional turn before making it to the elevator. Spamton walked in and fished a key out of his pocket. With some maneuvering and a bit of assistance from Tenna (even then he was wondering if the TV could even competently hold a key) they finally inserted the key in the hole beside the top floor labeled 'P'. Using his mouth Spam turned the key and using his nose he pressed the button. The elevator hummed as it clicked on, obliging to take its occupants to the highest floor of the building. Tenna hummed nervously while Spamton impatiently tapped his foot. Eventually the elevator dinged, opening its doors once again on the Penthouse floor.

Tenna had been here before. At the beginning of their relationship. Invited here afterhours for drinks. And when Tenna pointed out that Ramb was downstairs and they could drink there Spamton would give the largest eye roll and practically drag Tenna towards the elevator. They'd go up, they'd each get a premium cup of battery acid, and they'd sit on the balcony just looking over a budding ADWorld. Between the drinks and the jokes and the laughter something real bloomed. Something that at the time was too real for a TV tethered to a phone.

What immediately jumped out to Tenna was nothing. Rather, the fact that nothing had changed. For someone like Spamton who was always talking about the best new thing, who always bought himself the latest and greatest, this was significant. Like the penthouse was trapped 15 years in the past. A bubble that remained unchanged. Spamton just strolled past the foyer and walked straight towards his bedroom.

Tenna had never been in Spam's room, even after all this time. The Addison claimed it to be private. Special. Sacred. And that made sense to Tenna. More animal-like Darkners tended to be more territorial of their homes, especially where they sleep. And Ramb once told Tenna that bird Darkners were especially protective of their nests. So Tenna never pushed more than that. He didn't want to get fired for not understanding Spamton's needs.

All of this was happening way too fast. Going to the bedroom was just too much. His head was spinning from all of this. He needed to speak up, say something.

"Spamton, are you sure you want me in your room? We could instead just-"

"Quiet you. You aren't getting out of this so easily. Not like last time." Spamton's eyes may have looked intense but at this closer view Tenna could see how tired they were. Spamton kicked open the door to his room, slightly stumbling from being off balance due to his cargo, before recovering and stepping in.

It looked cozy. In the center was a large round canopy bed. All the sheets, pillows, and billowing blankets were stark white, much like their luminescent Addison. The canopy was also a thick material, perfect for blocking any external lights from the outside world. There were a couple nightstands with some glowing light orbs that functioned like lamps. A sprawling and half raided walk-in closet sat by the entrance to the room while beside the bed on the right was another door that likely led to a bathroom. It was luxury incarnate. Tenna worried he'd ruin the sheets if he even looked at them.

Spam turned and locked the door behind them, and action that made Tenna jump again. He once again glowered at the TV in his arms.

"*I* won't have you bolting. Not this time."

As Tenna internally prepared for the worst Spamton got to work. He set Tenna's body down on the edge of the bed, being painfully careful not to jostle him too much. He set Tenna's head down right next to his body, glancing back and forth between the [Cathode] and his bathroom door.

"*I* swear on my life you better not move an inch [Trash Heap]" Spam pointed accusatory at the TV, who held his arms up to reassure her wouldn't. Quick as a flash the Addison bolted for the bathroom, grabbing his fluffy monogrammed robe off of its hanger. He turned eyes darting back to the bed, heart pounding in his ears. And Tenna was still sitting there, nervous grin on his face and twiddling his thumbs. Spamton visibly relaxed seeing him still sitting there. He walked back in, robe over his arm, and approached Tenna once again. Without a word, he draped the robe around Tenna's body.

"Spam?"

"Arms up."

Tenna complied as Spamton put his arms through the oversized sleeves. The TV's body was practically dwarfed by the robe, it was nearly twice his size and his arms didn't even reach the halfway point in the sleeve fabric. It was soft. White. It smelled like Spamton's cologne. A pixelated blush flushed on Tenna's display. Spamton finished tying off the robe around his waist with a smug smirk.

"Are you sure about this? I'm probably dirtying your robe?" Tenna's mouth formed a squiggly snaggletoothed smile as his body fidgeted with the long sleeves they were encased in. Spamton gave a frown, then a huff.

"It's better than you ruining *my* whole bed." He said flatly. Static was sent down [Boob Tube's] broken antenna, sparking with a sharp pop.

"I'm staying in your bed!?" Tenna asked in alarm, grabbing his head again and placing it on his knees. Spamton looked at him like he was dumb.

"Uh, duh. *I* don't just take anyone up to *my* bedroom [Cathode]." Spamton snapped his fingers in front of Tenna's face. "Keep up [Trash Heap]. Thought you had higher standards for *me*?" Tenna flailed frantically, waving his hands in front of him defensively.

"Of- of course I have higher standards! I just thought..." Tenna faded off, Spamton however didn't accept the lack of an answer. He picked up Tenna's head from his lap and looked him in the eye.

"No. *I* actually want to hear you finish that thought. What did you think in that [Cathode] circuitry of yours?" Tenna, now used to being just handled by Spamton, didn't reach for his head. Instead he fiddled with his sleeves while his head tried not to meet Spamton's intense look.

"I just. I thought you would have found someone else." His voice came out weak. Hollow. It angered the Addison.

"WHAT!" He questioned with a sharp noise, hushing himself remembering earlier. Tenna seemed more lost in thought than in the moment. He continued.

"I thought you would have moved on. People don't... wait for me. The Dreemurr's. Queen. My... Benefactors. I've always been replaceable. When I fail there's always someone who can take my place. Someone newer. Faster. Better. I thought you'd have already found someone to take my place." His antennas drooped, making Tenna look even smaller than usual. More rage bubbles in Spamton as his eye twitched.

"BULL- ahem", he lowered his voice with an embarrassed blush, "Bullshit. You think *I* could ever replace you. You really must have low standards for *me*." He moved across the bed, setting Tenna's head on its side on a pillow. He rested his own head on the opposite pillow facing Tenna, a hand resting loosely against Tenna's vent. "Tens. You were *my* co-host. *Mine*. Do you really think *I* pick my co-hosts poorly? *I* let you into my life when no one else was good enough. You, were good enough. And when you left *I* felt it like a gut punch. Every. Single. Damn. Day." He gritted his teeth as he punctuated every word. He sighed and took a deep breath, looking back in Tenna's eyes. "You are irreplaceable. *I* searched all of ADWorld for any fragment of you. No matter how many pieces *I* found, it was never enough. Never you." Tenna was silent, intently listening. Spamton flipped to his back, one arm behind his head and the other vaguely gesturing at the ceiling.

"Addison number 4 knows some details of my past, but not as much as you. And the Plueys are good listeners but they don't respond like you. And Ramb is good company but..." He looked over at Tenna, eyes more tired than they've ever been. "None of them were you. And *I* spent the last 15 years collecting pieces of sunlight from a dying star." He let his hand drop over his face, back of it resting over eyes. He then turned back on his side towards Tenna's head.

"Tenna. Please." He gently picked up Tenna's head off the pillow with both hands and brought it to his own, resting his forehead against Tenna's. "You know how much *I* hate to beg. But..." He bit his lip and looked away before returning his eyes to the screen. "Please." His grip tightened. "Please." Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

"Don't leave *me*!"

He pulled Tenna's head tight to his chest as he buried his head between his antennas. He curled around the TV, holding him tight as his chest heaved with those restrained emotions Spamton kept so closely held. This was pathetic. This was so pathetic. Stars, why was he opening up like this. Like some fragile thing. Get it together Spamton! Get! It! Together! His aberrant sobs and furious thoughts were interrupted by a soft hand on his back.

He turned his head to find his robe placing a sleeve over him. Or more accurately, Tenna's body, wrapped in luscious silks and fabrics, had somehow shimmied up the bed to be at his side. Spamton couldn't help but compare this moment to the past. How Tenna used to hold him like this on rough days after their shoots. He remembered how annoyingly tall he was. How he'd play some stupid song into his ear. How he'd wrap around him, smoke still on his clothes and just let Spamton self destruct with all his anger for the day. That was a long distant memory, those details, the specifics. But right here, right now, was a new memory to be made.

Tenna's body held him the best he could from behind, the tiny TV man acting like a jetpack for the ADWorld ruler. The TV at his chest did his best to play some dumb song for Spamton, the noise crackling and popping on occasion with static. It was endearing to Spamton. Endearing how devoted Tenna was, even like this. His sobs quieted as he focused on those little broken tunes from his former co-host. He pulled back slightly to look at Tenna directly. His Tenna. His TV. His. While still wearing his classic nervous smile he was fully beaming at the star.

"I don't ever want to leave again! Never again. I missed this too much." Even if Tenna's limbs were weaker than before, his grip was still strong on the Addison. He missed this attention. Having all this attention. Having his co-host want him, need him. Maybe it was unhealthy, Spamton's attention and Tenna's obsession, but it worked for them. Spamton so often needed an outlet and Tenna so desperate for any form of attention. It was what held them together. It's what made them both feel whole.

"Good." Spam huffed again, this time sounding more defeated than annoyed. "You honestly wouldn't have had much of a choice anyway." He looked away faking guilt. Tenna only giggled in response.

"So I'm really irreplaceable?" Tenna asked, now with a playful boldness. Spam gave a classic haughty laugh and lightly headbutted the CRT.

"Yeah, yeah, don't let it get to your head." Tenna giggled again, this time kicking his feet (which were buried in the robe still). Spam continued by nuzzling against his screen, planting a brief kiss to it. The giggling stopped in an instant, just a gasp and a feint pink blush on the screen.

"Spam?" He asked, voice high with emotion. Spamton now leaned more into his screen, a million dollar smile lighting up his face.

"*I* love TV." Spam said with a smirk. Tenna immediately flushed, brighter than last time, and gave an audible squeak. Spamton just laughed harder, holding the TV closer. Yeah, he'd have fun saying that more often.

But for now two halves of a whole found each other. Scattered embers of a flame got rekindled. And Spamton's glow finally, finally gave off some warmth.

Chapter Text

It was 15 minutes between that door locking and the two ex's being tangled up together. Spam took a deep breath against the top of Tenna's head, his pop-up sunglasses lost somewhere in the sheets. Almost as if answering him, Tenna tightened his hold around Spamton's ribcage, taking his jetpack job very seriously.

This whole thing was weird to Spamton. His... 'situationship' technically laid in two pieces.

His body, shrunken, frail, with some swirling vortex where his neck would be. Currently that body was swaddled in Spamton's already oversized robe and snuggled against his back.

The other part was his head. Tenna's head was currently pressed to the fabric of Spamton's chest, cradled by Spamton's surprisingly firm arms. A steady warm air current trailed from one of his vents, brushing against Spamton's cheek like the back of a hand.

He didn't hate this.

Spamton was no different from other bird-like Darkners (well except for his luxury high-rise, hologram control, and a personality that could level buildings). But most of all he had broody times. No, not dying his hair black and lamenting poor choices (could you imagine?) but bird broody times. Times that made him want to just hang out in a safe nest all day, eat hot chips, and watch videos of himself selling luxury cars. Man, he was good at selling cars. Maybe he could sell one to Ralsei, that green one seemed like he had a good portion of dark dollars and probably could drive. And he seemed like such a good friend compared to the other two, and what good friend wouldn't want to drive their buddies around.

He was snickering to himself, the thought of selling a car or three always made him giddy inside. He remembered the TV in his hands.

"[Trash Heap]. Play *my* car commercials. *I'm* in the mood for some entertainment." He placed the TV right side up across from him on the bed. Tenna's antennas practically vibrated in excitement as Spamton felt the Cathode's body shift against his shoulder blades, sparking him to pull the body instead into his arms rather than continue backpacking. He liked having something to hold on to during entertainment time. The smile on the screen faded into a choppy video, sound cutting in and out through static.

The ad was one of the older ones Spam recorded. He wasn't as radiant or glowing as he was in today's day and age but that smile was the same. Always that award winning smile. He was driving down the road in a swanky red car light catching on his normal sunglasses. Spamton was already growing board of this one. He knew the song and dance already. He would jump out of the car, slap the hood of it, and say his line "Doesn't this car make you feel like a winner?". Then he'd do the regular read for the sale. Straightforward. Nothing new. But at least it was a video of him so it would suffice to entertain.

Yet something unexpected happened.

Tenna's screen, less precise after the transformation, fizzled and skipped a little bit. The video paused for a second as Tenna seemed to focus really hard on getting it to work. Spam pouted. He reached an arm out, turned the screen on its side (so he could watch better laying down) and knocked against the side of the TV frame.

"Heelllooo? Earth to [Boob Tube]?" He asked, singsongy for the hello. Tenna's body tapped and moved around against his chest, trying to signal something. Spamton honestly didn't pay that much attention as the video suddenly lurched to start again.

The video played like normal but the cuts in the video were obvious, along with the jumps in timing. Instead of the normal video, this is what played:

Spamton jumped out of the car. Said "Doesn't this car?" Slapped the hood of the car 8 times in rapid succession, then jumped back to say "Doesn't?" He then slapped the hood three more times before the audio jumped again to say "Winner?"

Spam stared at the screen for what felt like hours, Tenna worried he offended, before he burst into hysterical laughter. Full howling laughter, belly hurting and tears in his eyes. Despite his very sleek and organized appearance, one of his greatest kept secrets was his true laughter. How offstage he had that wild cackling laughter of someone absolutely deranged. It was something that Tenna was absolutely smitten with. A sound he always chased after that first glorious time he heard it after some cheeky balcony joke. Tenna flushed as Spam nuzzled the body in his arms pulling him close and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Stars! Ha! Tens! That was the greatest, ha ha, commercial *I've* ever seen!" His cheeks were tinted pink as his weird laughter continued. Tenna loved the sight in front of him, seeing his partner so completely consumed by joy and feeling him hold his body so close. When 'this' first happened he was horrified. Disgusted. How could anyone love a busted TV? He wasn't whole. He couldn't play videos right. He couldn't hold Spamton like he used to. But here was Spamton holding him tight through throes of laughter, practically dying from a crappy cut up car commercial. Tenna was crying before he knew what hit him. Distorted static-y tears streaked down his screen while his voice warbled in an overemotional tone.

"I made you laugh! Your real laugh! You liked it!!!" His words somehow carried over to the Addison, who was now having a quick coughing fit (Tenna's body did its best to pat him on the back even if the angle was a little awkward). That faint cheek blush remained as his gaze flicked back to the screen. A look of pity followed quickly by adoration appeared on Spamton's face. He reached out to his TV, picking him up again and holding the screen firmly in his hands. Then, very carefully, he placed kisses to those static-y tear streaks. Tenna's antennas shot up again, overwhelmed with emotion but relaxed as Spamton continued. Eventually the sensory structures ran through Spamton's hair, wanting to get closer with the man himself. The Addison himself didn't seem to mind it either, as he just chuckled to himself and kept giving the screen light kisses.

He did mutter "Fuck" under his breath once when he did cut his lip on one of Tenna's screen cracks but he didn't let up even when Tenna was muttering apologies.

But something strange happened during this little kiss fest. As Tenna's antennas ran through Spamton's hair, a few feathers easily fell out. Not a lot, just a few that looked old and faded compared to the rest of Spamton. Stranger still, the Addison gave a chirp after a particularly old feather fell. A firm, solid, chirp the Spam himself seemed shocked by. Tenna stopped his antennae and Spam stopped the kissing. They just looked at each other. Seconds felt like minutes, both trying to see the other's 'deal'. Tenna was the first to break.

"Spammy? Are you experiencing male pattern baldness?" Tenna was then shaken like a disobedience magic 8 ball. Spamton was red in the face and his nostrils flared.

"*I* am not going bald! Take it back! Take it back!"

"You aren't going bald! I take it back!"

After a following few minutes of heavy breathing from the distressed bird, he finally calmed down enough to continue the conversation with a scrambled screen.

"For your information *I* am in a molt period right now. Just some old feathers. That's all. And *I'm* not going to be called bald by a screen with no hair!" He ran a finger down the middle of Tenna's head to accentuate his point. Tenna blinked up at him, looking more confused than disoriented.

"So... Do you always lose feathers? Cause I didn't do much and a lot of feathers came out." He gestured with his hands. "Like, a lot of feathers."

"*I* AM NOT GOING BALD!!" Spamton this time headbutted Tenna, honestly hurting his own head more than Tenna because, you know, metal. He rubbed his forehead with one hand, shaking a few more feathers loose. He glared at Tenna's skeptical look. "Look, it's just been a while since *I've* last preened. Nothing more, nothing less. So get that dumb ass look off your face." This time Tenna had a different sort of 'annoying' look on his face. Something between nervous and giddy.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long since you... Pruned?"

Spamton gave a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Firstly, it's preened. Not pruned. *I'm* not a tree. Second, I dunno, like maybe a few years? Give or take." He plucked a loose feather off his neck. Tenna just looked more annoying.

"You know, I can maybe help. It'll be easy if all of them are falling out." He heard Spamton take an angry breath and quickly continued. "Well! Not all of them! Just like, a great BUT NOT BALDING amount!" He once again flailed his hands, his body laying within arms reach of Spam (he let go to shake Tenna the first time when he insinuated balding). Spam gave a deep sigh through his nose, deep in thought, before he finally looked at Tenna.

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"You can take care of some of *my* feather. But just because *I* can't reach the ones on *my* back. Think you can handle it?" He cocked an eyebrow. Tenna's body straightened into a salute, arm stiffly at his forehead (or where it would be).

"I would be honored!" Spam gave a half-snort at the salute. His Cathode was quite formal when he wanted to be.

"Alright. Let *me* get situated then *I* can put you to work." Tenna held his salute, face serious, focus sharp, and attention unwavering.

Then Spamton took off his shirt causing Tenna to blue screen.

In that moment it was like all Tenna knew was lost to the world. Every star in heaven seemed to know his name. It was as if the strings of fate that bound him so tightly had led him here to this divine moment. The moment when an angel made contact with Darkner-kind. Every single circuit could blow or misfire and Tenna wouldn't care, so long as it was in the effort to solidify this memory like crystal in his hardware. You know, maybe taking that horrible deal, becoming a "rat", losing everything he had, scamming children, fighting that same bunch of children after convincing them to connect his head to a NEO suit in Queen's basement, losing to said children and becoming a tie wasn't actually that terrible after all. Maybe he was just overthinking it. Because look where it all brought him. He could die a happy CRT right here right now, and hope his remaining dust would long hold these precious moments like diamonds.

In reality Spam was looking at his completely static screen and tapped to snap him out of it. "Tens, you've been staring into space for like two minutes? Ya good?" Tenna's screen finally flashed back to normal with a 'huh, what?' from the TV himself. Spamton snorted. All this for him taking his shirt off huh.

"Ah, um, uh, can I maybe ask, um, not that I don't like it, or that I really really like it (stupid Tenna stupid) but um why did you take your shirt off?" Tenna was stuttering a mile a minute. Spam looked at him like he was cringe and dumb.

"If you're going to get *my* back feathers you need to see *my* back, yeah?" It was like reality finally settled for Tenna. Ah, he really wasn't dreaming this. Guess that meant he had to actually be good at preening. Spamton went over to Tenna's body and laid face down over his legs, where Tenna was pinned there but also in position to get those pesky feathers. Tenna's screen was propped up with a great view of Spamton's back. It was a little weird moving his hands opposite of where he was looking but he'd somehow manage. Spamton cleared his throat expectantly. Tenna froze, analyzing the situation in front of him. His hands found their way onto Spamton's back, the fluff of his back feathers were welcoming. Tenna wouldn't say it out loud out of fear of smackage, but the texture reminded him of a downy pillow. Maybe Spamton wouldn't notice if he just... Laid his body down over top of his an just... Took a nap.

A sharp squawk snapped him out of it, as Spam tilted his head to glare at him. "Napping on the job? A fire-able offense." His words had no venom, instead having a playful lilt to them.

Tenna shot back up and actually got to work. His first attempts at preening went awfully. He ran his fingers through the soft pillowy feathers and kinda just tugged occasionally. That earned him a bop from the bird.

"No random tugging. Don't be careless with *me*, *I* have some good feathers in that handful. If they need to come out a light pull will be enough to remove them from their socket."

No random tugging. Got it. Instead he learned to focus on feathers that looked or felt 'weird'. A feather that looked much duller than the rest. One that felt a touch rougher. A few that were crooked or bent. Tenna just followed Spamton's logic when selecting feathers; if it wasn't perfect it had to go.

He eventually fell into a rhythm. Gently pull bad ones, brush hand through good ones, find another bad one, repeat. To be honest it was kind of soothing to Tenna. Like a mini game almost. But what really caught his attention was Spamton.

Spamton was cooing. Like a pigeon or a dove. He was cooing. The noise was music to Tenna, a sign he was doing something not just right, but enjoyed, wanted. He wanted to sing. To cry. He was doing good. He was being good. And Spamton was letting him know, even if it wasn't fully consciously (just a noise he made without thinking). Tenna was feeling a different kind of wanted, a different kind of needed, and he loved every second of it.

Eventually their preening session ended with a decent pile of feather and a practically glowing Spamton. An easy blush settled on his face, one that conveyed peace and maybe a post nap glow. He stretched, arms giving a satisfied pop, before grabbing Tenna's head and curling on his side. The way they were lined up, it was almost like Tenna had never lost his head in the first place. Spam was holding the TV firmly to the center of his fluffy chest. The rest of Tenna's body was snuggled close, holding slightly lower on Spam, right below his ribcage. Tenna had a full static-y testing color blush while Spam smirked with lazy pride.

"Ya know? *I* think *I* found the perfect job for you [Trash Heap]. You are going to be *my* personal preening buddy. You are perfect for helping *me* unwind, so that's your job. Think you can handle it?" He snickered into the TV's non-sparking antenna. The Boob Tube looked up (using his arms to tilt his head), stars where his eyes would be and that classic snaggletoothed grin.

"I'd love nothing more."