Inventory Management

by zanukavat

Summary:

During a routine stowing of a newly arrived stage equipment in the studio warehouse, you suddenly find yourself in quite the precarious situation when the lights go out around you.
What ensues might either bump you to Number One Employee of the Month, or immediately get you fired.

Notes:

AND WE'RE BACK ON, FOLKS!!
Thank you all SO SO SO MUCH for the insane reception on Crossing Wires!!!!! I never thought anything I'd write would ever reach this many people, much less that it'd be a fic about touching the dials and wires of a goddamn TV. Tenna what have you done to me. We all want him so bad it's making us look stupid.
Genuinely though, thank you for all the Kudos, the comments (ouguhhgh it's all over the screen) and to everyone who interacted on my socials. It genuinely has made the past weeks SO much fun for me and has given me a ton of confidence and motivation. Also shoutout to all the people coming in from that Abso-gloop-ly tweet.
Thank you for fuelling this... whatever this is.

Now, in the nearest installation of our Prime Time Show,
straight from my undiagnosed brain,
I bring to you my newest insanity.

Please enjoy.

Chapter 1: Lights Out

“Right, just set it down over here and we should be good”, Mr. Tenna ordered. Promptly another set of boxes was stored away into its place.

“We've got a couple more coming up, Boss”, shouted one of the Shadow Guys behind you in fluent trumpet, tailed by a group of Pippins that had to put all their strength into carrying one huge storage container above their heads. Their tiny feet worked tirelessly to move it forward through the maze of shelving, rattling the contents of the box with every of their multiple small steps.

Watching that sight you really did want to help, but you were busy keeping inventory on your clipboard as items were unloaded and stored into the high shelves.

As they set it down and breathed out a collective sigh of relief, you nodded towards the container. “Are those the new stage props?”

“Yup”, one of the Pippins answered. “And I think they just broke my back.”

“Yeah, really”, said another, “What the hell do you need five hundred sheets of paper mache for anyway?”

“No complaining! These are necessary for our next big show”, your boss said, placing both hands on his hips for emphasis. You looked to your board. That should be the paper mache, glue, some rope and a couple of other props done with, which you promptly jotted down onto your sheet to keep track.

“That should be all then, save for the new light fixtures. But those aren't scheduled to arrive until Wednesday”, you announced, giving your boss an accomplished smile.

“Hey, hey, good job everybody! That's a wrap then, let's get out of here. This place is making me all glooby.”

You nodded in understanding. It wasn't hard to see where he was coming from, you knew many others shared that sentiment. Yet you quite enjoyed the atmosphere of your little studio warehouse, if you could even call this thing a warehouse. The large room housed a random assembly of tall shelves, ladders, and cardboard boxes chock-full of old stage equipment, so you supposed that qualified it as a warehouse based on pure vibes and cramped-ness alone. Overall, no matter what you chose to call the place, to you it was a nice little reprieve away from all the blinding lights, the blaring music and noise of the large stage outside.

“Samesies”, one of the Pippins quipped, bolting towards the exit door with a motivation you'd last seen from a fan during one of Mr. Tenna's exclusive meet-and-greets. That guy had jumped over the gated area and booked it straight towards the TV host before he had to be restrained and thrown out by security. Chuckling to yourself you briefly wondered where the guy was now, and whether the fact that he was banned from any future meet-and-greets and fan events was weighing on his conscience.

“Do share what you're laughing about!”

You jumped a little at your boss's enthusiastic voice next to you, not expecting him to hear that. The fact that he was sort of leaning down towards you with his upper half bent to the side, screen staring at you with a grin, wasn't exactly helping either.

Holding out your clipboard as if it were a shield to save you from Mr. Tenna's loud personality itself, you looked back up at him with a polite grin.

“Oh, I just– I find it funny that the others wanna get out of here so quick. I quite like it here, actually.”

“Really?”

You gave him a shrug. “Yeah. It must be because I'm used to it, but… it's calming, in a way. Organized.”

“Ha! When everything goes well!”

“True, true”, you chuckled lightly, turning to walk at his side now.

You never really got used to how small you felt next to Tenna whenever you had the pleasure of interacting with or being in the same space as him. He was so inconceivably large, it was a miracle of measurements he had even managed to fit through the doorframe leading into the storage.

“To be honest, I have to agree with that guy. I can only really take so much of this gross fluorescent lighting up at the ceiling here. No offense but, yuck! Just look at it, it's just so blinding and bright and… color neutral!” He waved his arms around as he talked, then pointed up towards the ceiling and leaned in a little closer to you as if the light up there was listening.

“Wouldn't you rather be bathed in the warm limelight of the stage?”

Even though you were still walking side by side, and you had very much chosen this position next to him willingly when you decided to move your feet next to his out of your own volition, it was now getting a little too close for comfort. Why did he insist on nudging himself into your personal space like this just to deliver that question? You could assure him that the ceiling light most definitely wouldn't be listening, and even if it was, it most likely did not care about his opinions.

You took a slight step to the side as you walked, distancing yourself from Tenna until your comfort zone was reestablished. With a little laugh that was much too nervous for your liking, you said, “I think the limelight’s made for you, Sir. I wouldn't wanna steal it.”

When he responded with nothing but a little hum and simply kept walking, respecting the space between you now, you started fiddling with your clipboard out of nervous habit to keep your hands busy. Despite the fact that a whole group of other employees was present and making their way towards the exit together with you, walking next to him like this still felt a little… suffocating, in a way. The exact feeling was hard to describe, but there was no shot that a simple walk back through the shabby storage compartment should be making your breath run quick and your heart do a bunch of loop-de-loops in your chest. You decided to chalk it up to nerves and the general strangeness that simply came from sharing the space of a man so large and imposing as Mr. Tenna.

It wasn't helping much either that those colleagues of yours – bless their hearts though, they'd been so helpful all day – were walking at a ‘I do not want to deal with all that’ distance from the boss and his little assistant.

“Um, besides”, you started, itching to fill the bristling silence that had befallen the place which usually was meant to be silent but now wasn't supposed to be, which was frankly bothering everybody involved, “I like it! The neutral lighting, I mean. Helps distinguish colors of stage props and cabling.”

“Huh!” Tenna exclaimed. When you stole a quick look up at him you could see his antennas standing upright curiously.

“I never thought of it that way. But that is– hm. That is useful, yes. That does make sense.”

You nodded a little, “mhm”, making an effort to keep up your strut and stay in tempo with Tenna's oversized steps.

“And you know that whirring noise it makes?”

You took another step while you talked, perfectly lit and visible floors beneath you.

“It's not even that bad if you just—”

 

Your next step fell into darkness.

With a click and a lowering whir, the lights overhead shut off collectively as if they had in fact overheard Tenna shittalking them earlier, subsequently bathing the entire storage in darkness.

Tenna stopped in his tracks in surprise, and so did you. The confused flickering of his CRT screen was now the only remaining source of light, throwing long shadows into the room from where he stood.

“Well, Boss, there's the ceiling lights dealt with for ya”, came a voice from somewhere behind the two of you. It was hard to pinpoint exactly with how everything echoed off the high walls in this place, but you figured it had to be one of the Shadows who was walking behind you earlier.

You winced at the fact he must've been listening in on your conversation, but otherwise you breathed and reminded yourself to stay calm. All you had to do was get out of the room and make your way to the breaker to check what was going on. Perhaps Mike was even on his way already, and it'd all be fixed in no time.

Tenna turned around to look over his shoulder, shoot the Shadow an exasperated look, then clapped his hands together as though he was a bat trying echolocation for the first time in its life.

“Everybody!” He shouted unnecessarily loud, given that everyone may have lost their sense of sight but still very much had their hearing intact, “Follow me! I glow! You may be scared but I will lead you out of the darkne–”

“I've already found the exit, it's over here”, a distant shout from one of the Pippins down the hall cut him off.

“Oh.”

Tenna whirled around as he seemed to think for a moment, and you nearly bumped into him. Then, a few seconds later, he shrugged, “Well, in that case everybody follow that guy.”

While the other workers went ahead, you still kept close to Tenna, finding his light to be oddly comforting. He had sort of become a walking electrical torch to lead the way for you without risking to step on his shiny and very banana-colored shoes. For all you knew they could be slippery like bananas too and you'd be planting head first into the concrete floor if you were to make contact with them, so you really did appreciate him lighting the way, even if the others didn't.

 

Finally you came to the exit door where everyone had gathered. You squinted into the darkness. Why the hell had they not left yet?

Tenna seemed to share your sentiment, coming to stand in front of his employees with a puzzled look.

“I appreciate the reception, I really do”, he said through a nervous grin, tapping his foot, “but if you could go out and check what in the world is going on out there, that'd be even better!”

“Door's locked”, one of the Pippins said simply.

“What?”

“Door's locked, Boss. Look”, he pulled on the handle for proof. It wouldn't budge.

“Let me try. You're too tiny”, Tenna grumbled, making his way to the exit doors and pulling with both hands, using what you could only assume to be an amount of strength he found appropriate for pulling a door open.

“Maybe it's a push?” He tried, still no luck. “Nope. Okay– okay. This, uh– this is fine. It's fine! I can call Mike. He'll get us out.”

All you could really do was fiddle with your clipboard and stand here. While it was true that Mike usually was quite quick to help, at least according to Tenna himself and the numerous times he had actually been able to provide what was needed surprisingly quickly, you couldn't help but feel kind of doubtful about this one. Sure, Mike most likely could fix this. Mike was the solution to all problems and the cause of many more. But if there was no electricity in the entire building…

“He's not picking up”, Tenna murmured, a flash of static filling his screen for a brief moment.

“He'll answer soon. He always does. Nobody panic! We won't be stuck here for long!”

He started pacing, tapping the side of his head presumably to start another call or out of nervous habit.

“A-and even if we are, I'm sure some of the props are edible–”

 

While he rambled, you could make out some hasty shuffling off to the side followed by a noise like metal clanging onto the floor. You squinted into the unlit corner it had come from, but all you could make out was a vague, small shape in front of a vent or access hatch of some kind. Its cover had been screwed open, and whatever knelt in front of the thing looked like it was trying to make its escape.

“Hey. Hey, uh, Boss?” You nudged Tenna into his side to get his attention.

“Yes, what is it– no you will not be eating the props if you don't want to, but if you do, keep away from the foam ones because I just called dibs–”

“Boss, look”, you ignored the foam food dibs – damn it, you wanted to chew on those – and nodded in the direction of the vent.

“Hey, hey, hey! Hey now, what the–”

The thing near the vent scurried inside as soon as Tenna bolted towards it, but he caught it by the leg just in time.

“You! What do you think you're doing?”

They squealed. “G-getting… help?”

Only now that you'd moved closer and had Tenna's light shining straight onto it, could you recognize the lone escapee as one of the Pippins.

“For Fountain’s sake, could you at least tell everybody about your plan first before you just up and leave?”

You couldn't help but giggle at the sight – Tenna still had the poor guy dangling by his leg, holding him up while his screen shone sternly onto him like an interrogation light. The Pippins struggled, flailing uselessly in the air with his tiny limbs before he gave up and settled on just crossing his arms in frustration.

“What's so funny?” The two of them turned to you and yelled nearly in unison.

“Sorry– sorry. I think he's actually onto something though, Sir”, you said, moving up the clipboard to hide the lower half of your face so they wouldn't see you were still grinning.

“You mean the hatch?” Tenna looked to you, then down to the Pippins, then back to you again.

He sighed and let the guy drop onto the floor unceremoniously.

“Fine, let me see.”

 

 

“Alright, I'm in position”, Tenna said from where he tactically knelt in front of the vent on all fours. “Everybody push on three. One, two– I said on three, t-h-r-e-e, can you not count? Okay, again. One, two–”

Clank, the opening of the vent complained, along with a whole cacophony of noises that sounded either really painful or like they were beginning to risk the structural integrity of the local ventilation system.

“Ouch! Crap, okay, that didn't– stop pushing, you idiots! You're gonna bend my antennas, I need those.”

“Respectfully, Sir, I think you're too big for the hatch”, you said observantly and very helpfully.

Tenna’s speakers made an irritated scoff as he pulled himself free, then dusted off his pants and suit jacket by brushing the dirt away with his hands. “I've gathered as much.”

One of the Pippins alternated between nervously tapping his foot on the floor and pacing back and forth, a revolutionary remix between two timeless classic moves of impatience. “Can we leave?”

“Yeah, we could check outside and see if we can get the power running again”, said another, eyeing the ventilation hatch as though it was his lone salvation.

Tenna's screen flickered while he mumbled something nearly intelligible about how ‘if they leave and don't come back I'm putting them in a blender’ and that he'd ‘sworn not to make that mistake again’.

After some more time spent on frustrated grumbling, his expression settled again and he gave the group of employees a nod of approval.

“As cliché as I find the escape-through-vent trope, it does sound like that's our only option for the time being since Mike still won't answer me. Love it when he does that. Love it! Hah– Anyway, you're free to go, please get help.”

In an instant, the Pippins that Tenna had been holding earlier – the original discoverer of the holy escape hatch – jumped to his feet, disappearing into it in a blink. His colleagues followed suit until only the Shadow Guy remained. You felt kind of bad for not knowing his name. Was it rude to say they all looked very similar to your eyes, especially in the dark?

“Well, I guess it's only us three”, Tenna said in the tone of voice one would expect when people left to go to sleep late at night around a campfire after a fun day out. Instead, you were stuck in a tiny excuse for a warehouse during a power outage. Not quite the same.

The Shadow Guy tipped his hat, trumpeting something in apologetic reassurance before his body began to change shape and slither out into the vent. He turned all shadowy and gooey as he slipped past you and Tenna to make his exit, dimming the TV’s light where he passed through it.

“I didn't know they could do that”, Tenna said after a few seconds of stunned silence.

Blinking, you stared into the empty vent. “Me neither…”

You sighed, looking over at your boss. Tenna was still standing next to you in front of the vent, his arms crossed and a frustrated expression painting his screen. His antennas almost looked as though they were drawn together to form a frown, and the one he had scraped inside the vent earlier seemed to be a little bent. Something inside you wanted to reach out and fix it, but you pushed that thought down quickly.

“Guess it's only us two”, you mirrored what he had said earlier, adding on a little chuckle in a hope to keep the mood as light as possible in a situation like this.

Tenna didn't respond. With a sigh, he let himself fall heavily against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the floor. It was clear he was beginning to freak out inside, most definitely – Mike not answering him was already bad enough on a normal day, but adding this outage and being stuck in here into the mix, things were looking quite dire on the ‘not freaking the fuck out’ side of things.

 

“You think they're actually going to get it fixed?” You asked, slumping against the wall beside him. Perhaps simply talking to him would help keep him grounded.

“Those guys? Ha! Haha. No”, he chuckled nervously, voice a little choppy and compressed.

“They are one hundred percent going to rob the contents of the ball lottery and every single vending machine inside the studio before they even think of doing any investigating. And then I'm pretty sure none of them even have any electrical qualification so chances are they'd make it even worse if they tried!”

As he talked, Tenna let his head fall into his hands, pulling down his antennas in frustration.

You gave him a nervous smile. “So… your hope is still on Mike eventually answering?”

“Yep. I'm just going to keep calling him. I mean, y'know, what's he gonna do? Not pick up? Haha!”

On cue, you noticed his antennas perk up again, establishing a signal and waiting for the call to go through. The bent one seemed to wobble a little more strongly, which you found oddly cute.

When it went unanswered yet again, Tenna groaned angrily and threw his head backwards against the hard wall with a loud thump. You winced on behalf of his internal components.

“This is impossible! He'll hear from me once I'm out of here”, he exclaimed in defeat, intercepted by some slight static. It sounded distant, like waves crashing on a shore of electric sand, but the distortion of his voice was still recognizable and kind of jarring compared to his usual upbeat tone.

“Are you okay?” You asked instinctively.

“Wh– yes, I'm fine! Why would I not be? This is all dandy, we'll get out of here in no time. Don't worry about me, worry about the nutritional value of cardboard! Haha!”

Hesitantly you matched his uneasy laughter to not leave him feeling even worse about himself than he already was.

“We won't be eating any cardboard, Sir. Either the guys will get help, or Mike will fix it. There's no way we'll be stuck in here for more than a couple of hours at most”, you reassured him.

“Sure! Sure. W-whatever helps you feel better”, he rattled.

“It's just… Why, why, why”, he began again, bashing the side of his head in punctuation with each ‘Why’. It made the image on his screen jump to a color test bar for one, a technical difficulties error for the next, and then back to his usual face for the next hit after that.

“Why was I so stupid to think an automatic lock would be a good idea when we don't even have auxilliary power set up and– Oh, oh, get this–”

“Hey. Boss. Boss”, you tried to interrupt him or at least get him to stop bashing himself, scrambling to catch his hands.

“This place doesn't even have a fire exit! Can you believe that?”

 

Given that these were your daily working conditions you were kind of surprised he was willing to discuss this with you. Though you supposed whatever filter he had regarding that had long been whittled away from the fear of being stuck here for the rest of eternity. You briefly wondered if it made it better or worse that you were stuck here with him.

This situation also did not quite meet the criteria to qualify as a discussion either, you realized. It was more of a one-sided rant which you were aiming to put a stop to.

“Boss. Mr. Tenna”, you began again in a voice one would use to calm an anxious child, grabbing his hand mid air to stop him from banging it and flailing around wildly. He was oddly hot to the touch, even through the material of his thick gloves, and you tried to be as soft in your movements as was physically possible while restraining him as well. He was known for his meltdowns on set, this wasn't anything new – but usually you weren't the one bringing him back down to earth.

 

“You wanna know something else that's funny about this place?” you asked as you softly grasped his hand in yours and led it down to rest it onto his lap gently. He let you.

“The ladders aren't even tall enough to help me reach the top shelf. Whenever we receive new deliveries I make sure the least important stuff ends up there. The lights flicker. All the time. I've started giving them names– like, oh, Jared, are we on the fritz again today?” You laughed before you continued, “And, oh, this one time, a small fire broke out because of some short circuit over by the electrical equipment, so I ran to get the fire extinguisher. And guess what – it was fucking empty. So then I just stomped it out with my feet.”

Tenna stared at you, then down at the hand on his lap with yours still resting lightly on top. It was hard to make out the difference since it was so subtle, but you'd bet your last paycheck that the light of his screen had become slightly more pinkish in tone.

“And you're telling me this… why?”

“Oh, um. W-well I just figured–”, below your hand you noticed one of his fingers twitch, so you quickly pulled away. You hadn't even noticed you left it there, Gods, how could you be so stupid?

You tried to steady your breathing, and, with about as much smoothness as an unoiled door hinge, you explained, “I think… you can't always be ready for everything. Life's not a TV schedule. When things don't go your way sometimes you just need to… well, take a step back and reassess the situation. And don't immediately jump to the conclusion that everything's against you, or that you're at fault. Not naming any names.”

“I am so being named right now”, Tenna scoffed.

“I think what I mean to say is it's gonna be okay”, you said, giving him your best try at a reassuring smile. “And you won't turn into a rusted old trash heap in here. At least not while I can help it.”

“That's… optimistic!” His speakers played a sound akin to a cough. Those tiny pixels of flush on his screen hadn't quite left yet, lighting up the space around the two of you in a lovely warm hue.

“While we're at it. Are there any other… work related complaints you'd like to inform me about?”

“They aren't really complaints, sorry if it came across that way. They're just stories I thought I'd share to help take our mind off things and pass the time.”

You shrugged and thought for a moment, wishing your hand was still atop his so you could absentmindedly brush your thumb along the surface of his gloves to soothe you. They had quite a nice rubbery texture to them. Instead now you were stuck fiddling with your own hands like some loner.

 

“Well, I guess– no, actually nevermind”, you cut yourself off, feeling your face heat up at the mere thought.

Tenna pushed into your side with his elbow. “No take-backsies! You already started. Out with it!”

“I guess there is one… very selfish request”, you said quietly, eyes drifting down to your hands in your own lap.

Tenna patiently waited for you to go on, but his antennas betrayed his stoic expression as they perked up in interest, wobbling a little with the movement.

“I'd, uh– I'd like to spend more time with you.”

There you had it. Done, out with it. You breathed, aiming to explain yourself because the silence between you that had followed was much too suffocating and louder than silence should be.

“Being here it gets kinda lonely. I know I said I preferred that over the noise out there but I just… I–”

Oh, this was a mess. You were starting to sweat a bit in your uniform now, uncomfortable prickling heat dancing at your neck and cheeks. Briefly you wondered whether you were over explaining yourself, whether your anxiety was palpable through your shaky voice. In a need to gauge his reaction and make sure he was even listening instead of filing for immediate dismissal, you looked over to Tenna, finding him still in the same eager position as before. He was now fiddling with his tie while he listened to you with the excited interest of a young puppy tempted with its favorite treat.

Looking at him did calm you a bit – and make your face feel even hotter for no reason in particular – as did the fact that he was very much not actively working on calculating your severance pay.

Taking another nervous breath, you continued, “I… like it when you're here? I like it when you visit. E-even if it's just the occasional inventory check for new deliveries, like today! And then everytime you leave I get kind of bummed about it afterwards. You probably don't want to hear about this– hah, and, I- I know you're a busy man and all, I obviously don't want to insinuate that you should make room for me or something! I was thinking maybe I could help you around the office, with paperwork, or–”

This was getting too much, and you knew it. Words were just spilling out of you at this point, disorganized and naive. Much too hopeful, as well. You pumped the brakes on your train of affection before it could risk rolling over and spilling an entire confession.

You did have a little crush on the showman, if you could even call it that. But it was perfectly normal; everybody felt that way around him. Mr. Tenna was charming, eccentric, an all around great guy – of course people would love him. He was made to be loved. Created with the purest image of entertainment, of joy and laughter.

That loud booming voice which caused the crowds to roar in excitement all around the clock, that infectious smile you couldn't help but grin back at whenever he looked at you – it was all within the realm of normalcy to just… like him for it, was it not?

 

“I don't know. I'm sorry, this is stupid. Please forget I said anything.”

Out of nervous habit you rubbed the back of your head and neck, averting your gaze away again. That dark silhouette of rolled up old curtains stashed away in the back of aisle B was starting to look awfully intriguing…

The silence that followed was even more deafening than the first, overtaking that original cheap excuse of a silence by a mile before careening into your ribcage with a pang of guilt. If you weren't busy darting your eyes all around the room, you'd imagine the manifestation of a sore sound loser stomping off to ruin some couple's first date somewhere. When the damn thing started hammering around in your chest with its gold medal of anxiety, you looked back to Tenna once more for reassurance and– oh, dear.

Beside you, Tenna's screen blinked in gaussian monochrome for a short second before he quickly regained his color. It sprang back to life in an even stronger flourishing pink, a lovely hue you'd never seen him in before, not even during those screenings of cheesy old romance movies he loved to show reruns of. Every smallest pixel on his face reminded you of cotton candy clouds, of advertisements for girls’ cheap action toys or the carefully curated fields of peonies and orchids you sometimes saw on the gardening channel.

He was so pretty, you thought.

And it had been your words that made him look this way.

The lack of air conditioning was really starting to get to you now.

 

“That's, um– that’s… very kind of you! Haha!” Tenna stuttered. A flustered blush had started rendering in streaks at the edges of his screen. “Thank you for telling me that! Love to hear this kind of feedback from fans and crew alike! You know, I get to hear similar stuff from those enthusiasts all the time – like, ‘Hey hot stuff, meet me backstage and we can spend some time’, or I get another call from a fan about how they'd like to get some kind of ‘exclusive one-on-one time’? Which, first of all, that's not even in our product catalogue, and secondly, the way they were breathing into the receiver really freaked me out so, uh, I just hung up.”

You laughed, “Well that's because they want to–”

On second thought, should you be telling him that? The poor guy was already running hotter than a malfunctioning oven at the mere thought of someone appreciating being in the same room with him – there was no telling how he'd react knowing what his fans truly meant by those comments.

Still, he had to be at least somewhat aware of the effect he had on people, no? The effect he had on you? Was he stuck five layers deep in denial sauce or was it all simply part of showbiz to him?

Thankfully, Tenna dropped the subject and didn't decide to pry further. His color seemed to have normalized as well, and the second you noticed it gone you instantly missed it.

“I always deny those weird requests anyway”, he shrugged. “But the way you said it was very sincere. So, thank you, and noted.”

Noted. You pulled at the hem of your uniform to busy your hands with something, then looked up at him and gave him a warm, genuine smile. “No, thank you! I really appreciate it, Sir!”

Tenna gave you a booming hearty laugh that seemed to take a bit of a strain on his old speakers. It echoed through the halls as he said, “It's absolutely no trouble! How could I deny such a noble request?”

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms behind his back to rest his large head against them. When he looked over to you, you were met with a smile that'd win all the awards.

“I can't blame you for being affected by my addictive personality.”

You snorted.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad, even if you had to eat some cardboard.

Notes:

I feel like I'm throwing food into an enclosure of crazed TV-touchers, but I am also one of you, so I'm in the cage with you guys throwing words around that I cooked up in my kitchen.

This is currently a work in progress and has a bit of a slower buildup. So there will be no 14k TV Touching Time in the immediate next chapter (sorry, folks!) but instead some fun silly shenanigans before we get to the [Fresh from the Juice!]. Hope you enjoyed the opening act!! :]

Chapter 2: Too Close

Summary:

We're getting some spotlight on this show and some butterflies in your stomach. please help help I cant get them out they're everywhere

Notes:

This one's a bit shorter!! I was unsure whether I should group it with what comes next, but this feels best to me now. Currently got a good amount of Chapter 3 written already. ENJOY!!!!

You stared up at the ceiling and darkness stared back, cold and black as night.

You had never been particularly scared of the dark, but this was something different entirely. There was some very odd part of you, tucked far, far away inside the center of your chest, that distantly wished for the lights to never come back on just so you could spend more time with your boss here, all secluded and private.

You swiftly kicked that part of yourself into a bucket and rolled it down the hill of immature and unwise feelings.

Darkness still stared at you, now judging your impulsivity.

 

“This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

You jumped at the sound of Tenna's voice next to you, letting out a breathy little woah in surprise before you realized it was just him rather than whatever shadowy creatures your mind had made up in the blackened shapes of the warehouse.

“Sorry! Jumpscares are cheap, and that one was definitely unintentional”, Tenna spoke into the quiet, drawing his oversized legs up to his chest.

“No worries”, you laughed and placed an assuring hand on his shoulder. “If anything, it goes to show that I wholeheartedly agree with what you just said.”

Tenna looked down at your hand, then back to your face, his oversized head swinging with the motion almost comically, exaggerated like old animated cartoons you used to help produce. When you let go of his shoulder again his speakers played a nervous laugh. “I'm usually not scared of a little dark like this, but…”

You made an offended fake-gasp of surprise. “You? Fearless showman, known to never back out of even the most daring physical challenge? Scared of the dark?“ You exclaimed wildly, throwing up your hands and really making a show out of it. “Don't make me laugh!”

“For one, making people laugh is kind of in the job description”, Tenna shot back with a grin. “Plus you're right, ha, I don't have a fearful wire in my body! There's just… something about this that rubs me the wrong way. And I only like it when things rub me the right way.”

With a little smirk you quirked an eyebrow at that last comment. Despite the fact he had said it in a much lower tone of voice – and, if you had to represent it in something other than audio medium, it'd certainly have been written in a different font as well – you still heard him just fine, given that he was sitting so close to you on the floor.

You quite appreciated that closeness, actually. It made the light of Tenna's CRT screen feel even more comforting, a guide in the dark.

On the other hand, this ugly cold floor was just fucking uncomfortable.

“Maybe we could look for a flashlight?”

“Oh, absolutely brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?”

You grinned, “Because you glow by yourself and there's no situation in which you'd ever need one?”

“Fair point”, Tenna said, shifting around on the floor as he watched you get up. You noted that he was taking his sweet time, figuring perhaps he had shifted into some kind of stand by mode in order to save power since he sat down. When he still didn't move after what had exceeded the conventional length of an awkward amount of time waiting for someone to get up from the floor, you stepped closer to inspect him. Was his power gone? Did he shut off? The lights were still on, so that'd make precious little sense. He was whirring kind of sadly, antennas hanging down while he fidgeted with his gloves.

“Sir?”

“...Yeah?”

With your thumb you pointed vaguely behind yourself towards the dark aisle. “Are you coming?”

“Oh!” Tenna exclaimed as soon as you had thrown your question at him, and his head bounced up so fast your eyes nearly missed it. “Oh, I'm coming with. I'm coming with! Ha– Haha! Of course I'm coming with you, you're not leaving me here, alone, in the dark, all by myself– lost and broken and abandoned–”

“Heavens, Tenna, I'm not going to leave you! You're my light until I actually find one.”

In an effort to show that you truly did mean it, you held out a hand to him, more as a kind gesture than an actual useful way for him to get up. You knew if he truly put his weight into it you'd be the one getting pulled down onto him, instead.

Gladly he took your hand into his and propelled himself upward with an absolutely unnecessary amount of enthusiasm for an action as simple as ‘standing up’. The motion made you finally understand why you would encounter the occasional antenna shaped dented ceiling tile around the studio.

Since the space around you was about as quiet as one could get, it was easy to make out his little mumblings to himself while he brushed off his suit from the dirty floor. Gradually the ramblings about how he ‘was just getting emotionally ready to be abandoned again’ shifted to little bits and pieces of what you had said to him – You're my light, heh. My light, my light. It was as though he quietly replayed a voice clip of it to himself, reminiscent of cherished yet terrible quality VHS recordings.

You decided to be nice and leave him to it, pretending you hadn't heard and waiting until he was done with cleaning himself before the both of you headed off into a random direction. Of course you knew the layout of your workplace during regular circumstances but this darkness had drenched it in an entirely different light – or rather, the complete absence of it – and now you weren't even sure which way was up anymore. As you treaded careful steps through the empty halls, each one echoing off the high ceiling, you occasionally instructed Tenna to lift his head in a certain direction and shine his screen onto the signs for aisle designations.

 

“It should be over here, next to island resources”, you said, waiting for Tenna to look in that direction so you could see.

Bingo. Just ahead, in a nook between endlessly tall shelves and star-patterned bathing suits, lay a door to the supply closet.

“Why do we have a whole shelf for… beach party supplies?”

Pressing down on the door handle you looked back at Tenna and shrugged. “I don't know, ask Lanino and Elnina. I think they placed those orders, but uh, I… thought they had your permission?”

Tenna simply stood there looking back at you, one hand behind his back while the other adjusted his tie despite the fact that it did not need adjusting.

“I take it they did not have your permission”, you said, holding back a giggle.

 

The supply closet was as you remembered it, boring and grey, only much more haunting now with the contrasting hard shadows produced by Tenna's light. You'd hate to imagine what it would've been like to be stuck in here without him, without that reliable bright screen to give you comfort and a way to see. Sure, you might still have been able to make your way over here and grab a light yourself, but being alone in the darkness would've surely driven you mad even with a small cone shaped help to see.

Tenna stood in the doorway, his form a bit too large to fit through it. He was bending down, giving you much needed light into the room and making your silhouette bounce off its walls like a funny looking Shadow Guy practicing his jazz routine.

“Should be in here.” You bent down, reaching out your hand to the far end of a shelf compartment. Why the hell did you stash these all the way at the back? Were you so naive and privileged in the ways of industrial lighting fixtures to think there'd never be a need for something so outdated and basic as a flashlight?

Growing a bit annoyed you stretched out further, propping yourself up on the cold and frankly very unpleasant metal of the shelf.

Said shelf did not take kindly to being called unpleasant, and so all your rattling came back to bite you in the ass when a box of precariously placed supplies decided that gravity would be its new best friend today. It toppled over, hellbent on breaking your back or at least giving you a concussion.

“Shit”, you yelped, instantly pulling back – just to top it all off you hit your head on the cover of the small compartment you'd been rummaging in, making you spit out another pained curse.

 

This room was made for backstage personnel; for Shadows, for Pippins. For storage. It wasn't made with the giant TV who owned the place in mind.

As such, the loud scratching sound you heard wasn't your spine getting broken to bits by an angry toolbox full of hammers, but rather Tenna's attempt at fitting himself into the room.

With your hands still positioned at the back of your head in a brace position, you slowly turned to look upward.

“Woah”, you gasped, glancing up at his hand. “Good reflexes.”

“Comes from catching all those tomatoes they throw at me on stage sometimes”, Tenna said nonchalantly, setting down the toolbox into the lowest shelf where it honestly should've been from the start.

“You can still make good fires with those! And sometimes pasta.”

You chuckled, letting out the breath you'd been holding against its will like a British history museum. “Thank you. That thing looked heavy. Don't wanna think about how that would've ended.”

“Then don't!” Tenna laughed, a little choppy and nervous. You couldn't exactly blame him for that.

Carefully, so as not to upset the vicious shelf again, you reached behind yourself to fetch the reason you had come here in the first place.

“Got one for you as well”, you said, placing it into Tenna's free hand. He was still leaning down because frankly he had little choice to do much else, and was effectively trapping you between himself and the storage. Looking to your side you noted he was holding onto the shelf, caging you in even more and – oh, he was doing it so nothing else would fall from it, wasn't he? With how things were looking though he was at risk of just breaking the entire room, and in that case, an even larger thing called ‘the ceiling’ would fall onto the both of you.

Tenna stared down at the flashlight in his hand as though he'd never seen such an apparatus in his life. When he didn't move or do much of anything really, you reached your hand up to his again and wrapped it around the base, placing your thumb onto the ridges of the on-off switch.

“It should still work”, you said. His hand felt so hot to the touch, reminding of those heated cushions people would use for stomach aches.

In the quiet you could make out Tenna's fans whirring up, pushing around some dust in the air behind himself. “I- I'm sure it does! We have no broken equipment here, this is a business with standards, thank you very much!”

You grinned, pleased to see the smallest hint of soft pink returning to his screen. The poor guy did seem incredibly easy to tease with just touch and intimacy alone. No wonder those ‘crazed fans’ wanted more of him. Carefully you traced your hand atop his, all soft and calculated until your thumb pushed up on the switch– and you really didn't think this one through, making a 500 lumen lightbulb into an extension for hand holding, because now you had nearly blinded yourself.

Squinting, you quickly looked away. “Yep. It still works, alright!”

“Boy, talk about the blinding lights of stardom! Are your visual receptors okay?” By the tone of his voice you could tell Tenna actually was worried, despite phrasing it in a joking manner. The whole ordeal earlier had already told you that he did very much care about your general well-being.

He pointed the light downward, which pulled your hand with it, causing you to stumble and bump into him. The height difference was extreme up this close, even as he bent down; and you caught a whiff of cologne and the cheap laundry detergent used to wash his suit, the subtle smell of metal and plastic of his casing; under your fingers you felt the soft yet artificial fabric of his suit as you instinctively held a hand against his chest to brace yourself.

“Woah, heh, watch the merchandise, dear!” He joked as he felt your touch on him, speakers playing a nervous chuckle that abruptly cut off and then repeated more quietly in a badly stitched loop. With a face about as red as the aforementioned stage tomatoes, you quickly pushed Tenna to a less suffocating distance.

 

“...Your antennas are stuck in the ceiling.” You breathed after a moment of heated silence, looking up at him and distantly wishing he would just guide your hands aside and come as close again as he was just seconds ago. That thought was swiftly ignored and stashed into the back of your mind, as was the hot fluttery feeling it caused to dance around in your chest.

“Let's– uh, let's get out of here."

Chapter 3: Act Drop

Notes:

HEY EVERY !!!!!!!!!! As you can probably tell, production on this fic has slowed down because I got a lot going on right now. I will still try to work on it in the evenings occasionally but don't expect super fast updates, haha! I'm also working on a Tenna wireplay game together with my boyfriend :DD

Anyway, enjoy this chapter !! I will now retreat back into the shadows somewhat creepily.

The walk back through the halls was a long one, despite it being the exact same physical distance as before. Emotionally, it was long – fucking dreadful even. Every step felt stretched out into eons as though the very concept of space-time had just been fired without notice and packed up its dimensional bags.

Where Tenna and you had walked closely together on the way to the storage room earlier, playing shadow figures with the light from his screen and making friendly chatter to keep the mood up, you now were walking at a distance which could fit approximately two to three Pippins in between you, depending on how recently said Pippins had ‘misplaced’ restock on the snack machines.

The only sounds that accompanied you, or rather made the quiet distance in between even more apparent, were your echoing footsteps and the occasional whir or clink coming from Tenna’s body as he moved. Each smallest sound seemed to mock you personally, bouncing off the walls just to shoot back at you screaming, look who went and ruined it all now. Look who's going to get fired tomorrow, ha! Look who's lost all respect and honestly deserves none in the first place.

 

You really did try to push it down, believe there'd still be a chance. But what were you hoping for, exactly? A man who already had everything he could ever conceivably want – stardom, money, his own production studio, a spot at the top – where could you possibly fit into all of that? Him, he was playing golf minigames with the Big Shots. You were just a small fish in the pond getting clubbed by the occasional miss-hit.

Even moreso, how would you be able to keep up? The fact that he would move so much faster, that he towered over you, over everyone – it mirrored what you imagined your relationship would be if it ever truly were to become more.

And yet you clung to hope like that stupid motivational cat poster in the break room. The fact he hadn't outright told you no, never told you no; that flush conjured on his screen, rendered deeper and crisper than any you'd seen before; the fact that you had been the one to push him away, not him; the way his steps now seemed to fall in tune with yours, slower, shorter, waiting for you to catch up – it gave you hope. Stupid, stupid, ridiculous hope. The kind of bubbly feeling you knew down in your guts you shouldn't be chasing, but even your guts were sometimes wrong, especially when it came to greek yogurt or salsa.

 

“Hey, um”, you decided to finally break the silence like a thin branch in the middle of filming a nature documentary, “w-we should maybe grab some cushions or foam wrap, or… really anything soft before we sit down somewhere again. I can't take another second of sitting on this cold, hard floor.”

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Tenna jump a little when he heard your voice break the quiet, reminding you of how he similarly scared you earlier. You were about to apologize for it before he hastily answered, “Great idea! May as well make it cozy in here if it's gonna be our forever-home.”

With a quiet laugh you nodded. “Okay, well, I remember there being some old pillows from the previous Green Room furnishings somewhere around the middle of aisle C. We'll know ‘em when we see ‘em.”

“Oh, don't remind me! Those were horrid. I fired the designer the next day, but they still charged us. Outrageous, if you ask me!”

“They weren't that bad”, you said, laughing.

 

They were that bad.

What the hell had the briefing been on these? Create the most vomit-inducing, mismatched combination of colors, make them write farewell letters to their families before you throw ‘em in a wood chipper and extract their mangled remains to splat their color onto a canvas made out of the most uncomfortable fabric known to Dark-kind? Well, you didn't dare to touch them yet but it certainly looked uncomfortable, absolutely uninviting to sit on let alone spend any time around. How this thing did not have guests bolting out of the Green Room in utter disgust was a mystery to everyone who had the displeasure of seeing these.

“Yeesh”, Tenna grumbled next to you, met again with the physical manifestation of Dark Dollars going down the drain. The disdain on his face was clear as day, even if he only had a mouth, nose and antennae to work with.

 

After giving them a good stare down, you decided to bite the cushioned bullet and reached out a hand towards the old pile. Quickly you found the material itself to not be quite the nightmare you had imagined it to be, reminding you of outside patio couches. Probably easier to clean that way, you thought.

“We can work with this, as much as I'd rather close my eyes around them”, you said, reaching into the dusty cardboard box they were stored in and grabbing as many as you could hoist out of there in one go. A couple of old dust bunnies hopped away into the darkness as you shook out the pillows.

When you held a bunch out for Tenna to grab, he pulled a face that said, in the purest of screen resolutions: ew ew ew ew, get this abomination at least ten feet and at best five earth circumferences away from me. Despite the strong reaction which, in your expert opinion, reached far beyond just being disgusted at the outrageous (lack of) color coordination and wasted funds, he still held out a hand and reluctantly took the stack of cushions from you. He kept them at arm's length using his pointer finger and thumb as though they were contaminated and rotten. By all accounts they very well did look the part.

“At least they don't smell as bad as they look”, you shrugged, pushing the ones you were holding under your arms for transport. “Just… old and warehouse-y.”

“No need to sugarcoat that which can't be coated in sugar, dear! This is discontinued, taken off the air, stored away from the public for good reason!”

Tenna leaned down to fetch some more cushions out of the box. “These really have just been taking up space in here, huh. I almost feel bad for this cardboard box! …Mind holding this for me?” he asked, handing you his flashlight.

Once he found the number of abominable objects in his hands to be sufficient enough for lounging on, he rose back up to his full height and turned to you. “It feels strange to put this cancelled show of a couch back on the air like that. But, when necessity calls you gotta pick up! And if we're gonna turn the lights off for sleeping in here anyhow, it won't be all that bad.”

“Don't tell ‘em they look better in the dark, it'll hurt their feelings!” You bumped your arm into his side – very, very low on his body due to the height difference, but it got the point across well enough. He looked down and gave you a grin, though you weren't entirely sure if he got what you meant or was simply being polite and assuming you had said something funny.

To give you shelter from the cool of the warehouse night you figured there had to be rugs or coverings around here too – and, sure enough, in another dusty box some equally ugly and old accompanying blankets turned up to a party they weren't invited to. You pushed yours and Tenna's flashlights into a pant pocket and quickly stashed two blankets under your other arm.

Full sleepover equipment in hand, you waddled towards Tenna and attempted the world's worst thumbs up. He nodded, the light from his screen bouncing funnily with it. This was a bit unsettling, you had to admit – having only the glow of his screen to orientate yourself once again, now that you had basked in the wonderful luxury of handheld light. You could swear the brightness of his screen had dimmed as well, somehow. It used to reach farther into the room than this, dimly lighting up even the ceiling tiles, whereas now it had shrunk down to an enclosed warm flickery glow. A private spotlight.

 

 

This was going fine, just fine and dandy, all factors considered into the equation that was being stuck in a blacked out storage facility with your boss. Did you dare to say you were having a whale of a time? To think so was selfish perhaps, given that Tenna seemed to want nothing more than to get out of here. Of course, you'd like to return to the world of the ordinary and nicely lit offices as well, but was it truly so bad to wish to linger in the chaos of it all for just a while longer?

Nothing like this ever happened during your day-to-day life. The only ‘out of line’ occurrences you ever could dream of were off-schedule shipments, reorganizing days, and the few times you'd receive deliveries of higher quantities than expected and put out a raffle for all employees to distribute the excess supply. Somehow, one of those sly Pippins would always win those raffles and you figured there had to be foul play involved, but you had no substantial evidence to even bring it up to anyone. Let him keep his prizes of light candy and parchment paper, you figured.

Through the dark you stepped on ahead, ever following Tenna’s dimming glow. He walked in a slow rhythm, kindly paying attention to where you were behind him, but you still had to make an effort to keep up. The cushion supplies weren't exactly heavy, but still annoying to carry.

This was the most time you'd spent with Mr. Tenna in years – most likely ever. It was getting increasingly hard to remain calm like this, to push aside the forced intimacy that being stuck like this naturally brought forth. How were you supposed to not stick to him like a moth to a flame when he was the one guiding you, his presence so very overwhelming and warm with gentle light? You were beginning to understand why Lightner children tended to sit much too close to the television.

You wanted to be close enough to feel the static dancing on your fingertips. Was that so wrong?

 

Still lost in thought, it took you a second to realize that the personification of your wonderful light had abruptly stopped in front of you, leading you to look towards him with worry.

“Oh. Ohh, no”, he breathed, panic creeping into his voice like a weird eight-legged bug made of static. All you could see was the back of his head, which you now realized you could hardly even make out.

Had it gotten darker?

“Oh, no no no.”

You ran towards him, losing a pillow in the process. Ah, screw that pillow. If it wanted to be part of the cuddle pile, it wouldn't have fallen.

“What– Tenna, what's wrong?”

“Not now, not now! Why, out of all times, why now?!” He shouted very unhelpfully, not answering your question in the slightest. It pained you to hear his voice so high in pitch with fear, so panicked. You closed the last remaining distance and came to stand in front of him, until finally, you began to see the problem. Or rather, you didn't see jack shit.

Above you, his screen was flickering odd colors, its light becoming fainter by the minute. Unable to help, you stared, mesmerized by the patterns drawn into it. It seemed the longer you watched on, the less batches of illumination you could see bouncing to life on his screen before finally, finally—

 

The curtain gets drawn, and the lights go out.

Notes:

oooooooooo it's so dark in here I can't hear anything

Thanks so much for reading! As always you can find me on socials as zanukavat and Etsy as well if you wanna support me! :]

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of I LOVE TV