Chapter Text
If there was one business tactic Spamton had let worm into his brain on his rise to the top, it was targeted and situational advertisement.
You could show off any old piece of crap to anyone at any time of the year, and maybe, if you were lucky, you'd get a couple bites. That was how sales often worked back in Cyber City; for a guy formerly in the business of spam mail, any old piece of crap was about all he'd had to work with. But he was in a bigger and better place now. Not those pixelated eyesores smacked in front of someone's face on their Jeocities page, but the glamorous stage of a TV screen. Whether those shmucks back home liked it or not, this was where most Lightners started their shopping lists. And the nice thing about broadcasting primarily to a pair of Lightners? You could adapt to what they really wanted, what they needed at any given time, and show it off with the promise of big bucks to follow. Everyone was happy at the end.
And goddamn, did Tenna's Lightners in particular have a hell of a lot of shopping to do lately.
Toriel was pregnant. About 8 months by this point, looking like she was ready to pop every time Spamton saw her in front of the TV. A completely bizarre concept to any Darkner, who just popped into existence as necessary and went about their merry way, but a hell of a lucrative one too. As it turned out, brand new Lightners needed all sorts of stuff. A crib to sleep in (which really just looked like big wooden cages), tiny pajamas and socks, something called diapers (an even more foreign concept for a reality that didn't even have toilets), not to mention all the products pushed at parents themselves. Spamton could just barely make heads or tails of most of it, but hey, it worked.
Tenna had taken it upon himself to suggest most of them. He was typically content to sit back on the ad side of things, trusting Spamton to curate the commericals and seal the deal with sponsors, keeping most of their direct collaboration to co-hosting. But in this instance, he'd been surprisingly insistent.
"I just want to make sure they know about everything they could possibly need!" He'd said when Spamton asked once. "It's such a big change for them, and if I can do even a little to help them through it, then by golly I'm gonna. And besides: I've been up close and personal with Lightners longer than you! Don'tcha think that'd be helpful for something like this?"
Spamton thought he could have managed it fine on his own. But Tenna had looked at him with that hopeful little pout on his screen, and, well. He wasn't an easy guy to say no to.
Airtime had wrapped up for the day about half an hour ago. Tenna had already bid the crew farewell for the evening and headed off to his dressing room, a rarity if there ever was one (if Spamton wasn't accompanying him, anyway.) Spamton wasn't sure what the reason was; he hadn't seemed tired, and the shoot went as well as it could have on any given day. But if the big guy wanted to cut out as soon as the cameras stopped rolling, he wasn't about to judge. Hell, Tenna could stand to clock out a little early sometimes; that workaholic boob was bound to fry a wire one of these days.
Spamton followed suit not long after. A few goodbyes to the backstage crew, a wave to the Weather Duo as they headed off for an evening alone. That sounded just peachy right about now, he thought as he strode down the hallway. A night spent on Tenna's massive bed, tucking in with a nice Cyber City imported vintage (archived 1989), maybe losing a few ties and socks and other undergarments here and there.
"Knock knock, cathode." Spamton took the star shaped door's knob and twisted it open. "If you're indecent, that is a-okay with--"
Tenna was standing in front of his full-length mirror. Far from an unusual sight at any given time of day. From posing in front of it in the morning, swapping out different shades of (nearly identical) yellow ties, primping himself up for a day ahead or stripping down for the evening, Spamton guessed he'd seen Tenna's reflection as many times as he'd seen the guy himself.
That wasn't what gave Spamton pause. Because Tenna wasn't halfway naked at all; he was still in his suit, sans blazer, dress shirt tugged out of his slacks. And just under that dress shirt was a misshapen, lumpy bump around his stomach-- a pillow, Spamton realized. Its bottom half poked out of the gap between the shirt and Tenna's waistband, ruining whatever slim illusion that it could be anything else.
The Addison stared, smile frozen on his face, blinking slowly as he took in... whatever the hell he'd just walked in on.
Whatever it was, Tenna was zoned in on it 100%. He hadn't turned around when the door opened, even if he had to have heard it. The CRT just stood there, pillow stuffed under his top like a Pippins trying to smuggle props off set, lost somewhere in his box.
Spamton almost found himself mesmerized by the oddity of it all. But he wasn't about to just hang around like a wall ornament waiting for Tenna to notice him.
Spamton cleared his throat unnecessarily. "Y'know, when ya' left early--"
He'd planned on saying "this was not what I thought you'd be doing," but Tenna's shrill gasp cut him off. The CRT whirled around to face him, grasping the pillow to keep it from falling to the floor, jaw slack and screen as white as a sheet.
Spamton paused. He'd walked in on Tenna doing some embarrassing stuff a handful of times, but he'd been so coy during every one of them. Like he'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, tucking them behind his back, smiling all innocently and pretending nothing had happened at all.
Never with any of what looked like raw mortification written across his face.
"... hey, uh--"
Tenna cut him off again with a bout of stammering. "You-- I didn't-- you--" His screen was glowing redder and redder by the second, steam puffing from his vents. "GET OUT!"
Spamton barely had time to blink before Tenna ripped that pillow from his shirt and flung it at his face.
"Woah!" He leapt out of the way, eyes wide with surprise as he turned back to his partner. "Tens, what are you--"
"I SAID GET OUT!" Tenna hurled his blazer at Spamton's head next, then his gloves, then raced to the bed for another pillow. "Go away, don't look at me, just leave, dammit!"
"Tenna--" Spamton blinked when a star-shaped throw pillow bounced off his face, "--baby, just take a breather, will ya'--"
"Who said you could come into my dressing room without knocking anyway, huh?!" Another pillow. "Can't a guy get a little--" Tenna scrambled for something on the floor, settling on a shoe and tossing it too, "--a little privacy?!"
Spamton opened his mouth as he stepped further into the room, only to close it, unamused, when the shoe got him in the shoulder.
Tenna gasped, halting as his hands flew to his mouth. "Oh my gosh, are you okay, Spammy? Did that hurt you?"
"No, it--"
Tenna's relief was short lived. "Well then shake a leg and get out!"
Spamton shook his head, nudging the door shut with his foot on his way in. He watched Tenna sputter and fidget in place the closer he got, only to make a mad dash for his personal bathroom and slam the door shut. Spamton redirected his path without missing a beat, leaning against the door frame with a huff.
"Dollface, whatever you were doin' just now, I guarantee it ain't worth throwin' this big of a fit."
"Oh sure, easy for you to say, Mr. I've-Never-Been-Humiliated-A-Day-In-My-Life! You don't get to tell me what is and isn't worth being upset over!"
"How humiliated can ya' be if I don't even know what you were doin'?"
"Extremely, you little smartass!"
A quip hung off Spamton's tongue, only to drop to the floor when he heard the tearful lilt at the end of Tenna's voice. He'd been so caught up in the shock of his partner's outburst, the look on his screen immediately prior had taken a backseat. Spamton had seen Tenna nervous, flustered, anxious, sad and angry plenty of times, but he'd never seen him look as afraid as he'd looked in that moment. Afraid, ashamed even? When was the last time Mr. Ant Tenna, a guy who's first initial might as well have stood for "audacious," ever looked ashamed about anything?
The Addison turned to the pillow slumped against the dressing room door frame. Tenna had thrown a couple (and missed almost all of them), but that was the one that had startled this whole episode.
Spamton stepped away from the bathroom door to pluck it from the ground. His eyes grazed the claw marks where Tenna had sheered the edges right before pitching it at his head. Careful fingers brushed over them as Spamton huffed out a breath.
Tucking the pillow under his arm, he walked back to the bathroom. "Y'know, in my defense, ya' didn't lock the door."
Silence, apart from a few sniffles.
"Wasn't tryin' to freak ya' out, though." Spamton laid the pillow against the wall, popping a squat and leaning back against its broad, plush surface. "I probably would've thrown a shoe if a guy walked in on me doin'... whatever that was."
Silence still.
"I would've had better aim than you, though."
That finally earned him a watery chuckle.
"Point is: I'm sorry, babe." Though Spamton would be expecting an apology of his own for Tenna flying off the handle. "Take a sec to cool off if ya' need it. I've got nothin' but time."
A "sec" ended up being more like a few minutes, according to the hands of the TV Time! brand clock on the wall. But eventually, the bathroom door eased open.
Spamton turned to find Tenna sulking in the doorway. His antenna drooped in front of his screen, hands tucked behind his back and shoulders hunched, looking awfully reminiscent of a kicked puppy.
"Hey, there's the man of the hour!" Spamton rose to his feet, taking the pillow in both hands. His grin softened when he noticed the rainbow-colored smudges around his nose, a surefire sign he'd been crying. "Ya' feelin' a little better, big shot?"
"Very slightly." Tenna shrunk an inch or two, staring down at his feet. "Spammy, I'm so, so sorry for how I acted when you walked in."
Spamton hummed with a nod.
"It was completely uncalled for--"
"Mhm, yeah, that's one word for it."
"--and I'm so ashamed of myself--"
There was that word again. Spamton was all for milking an apology, but there were bigger fish to fry here.
"Tens, it's fine, quit kickin' yourself for it." Spamton gave him a pat on the leg. "You wanna tell me why ya' did it to begin with, though?"
"Not really." Tenna heaved out a sigh, eying the pillow wearily. "But I guess we can't just go to bed and pretend it didn't happen."
"Nope, cause I ain't lettin' ya'." Concern aside, Spamton couldn't pretend curiosity wasn't a factor too. He passed the pillow into Tenna's hands. "C'mon, let's go get comfortable."
They crossed the room to Tenna's bed, where Spamton briefly parted from his side to walk up the step stool Tenna had fashioned for him, due to the mattress being a good three feet off the ground. Slightly humiliating still, but less so than having to climb his way up the sheets.
Spamton scooted up to Tenna's side with a grunt, then promptly reached for a cigarette. He himself didn't currently feel the need to take the edge off too badly, but a certain someone--
"That's a filthy habit, you know," Tenna muttered as Spamton lit it up.
He sucked in a puff, blowing it out through his nose. "Never heard you complain about it before now."
Tenna visibly hesitated, only to accept a drag when Spamton passed it to him. He exhaled the smoke through his vents, took one more quick puff, then put it out on the bedside table's ash tray. "I want to set a good example when the baby arrives. I am not going to shell cigarettes to that precious angel and poison their squishy little brain with subliminal advertising."
"Ha! Y'know they make candy cigarettes in the Light World, don'tcha? Their squishy little brain'll get plenty of 'subliminal ads' just going out on Halloween."
Tenna squeezed the pillow in his lap to his chest, letting his chin rest on top of it. "Well, they won't have to worry about it at home, thank you very much."
Spamton chuffed, ready to say okay, cathode, forget the smokes, let's actually talk business here. But his voice trailed off just as his eyes slid down to the pillow. Tenna's hands didn't seem poised to shred it into bits, the way they already had around the edges earlier. If anything, they were wrapped gently around its sides, like he was giving it a hug more than holding it for comfort.
The Addison's mind wandered back to how he'd found Tenna when he first walked in. The way he'd had one hand on the bottom of the pillow, one at the top, cradling it the same way Spamton had often seen Toriel cradle that bump in her stomach.
Spamton blinked, running that thought over one more time.
Oh. Oh.
"Cathode," he finally said, unable to keep a snicker out of his voice. "Were you pretendin' you were...?"
"I-- what-- how did you--?!" Tenna's screen flushed a brilliant shade of pink, shirking away from Spamton in horror. "I haven't even said anything, I-- it is not funny, goddammit!"
"Sorry, sorry!" He really was, even as he forced his chuckles back into chest. "It was a surprised kinda laugh, that's all, really."
Tenna buried his face in the pillow with a groan. "Ohh, my life is over. Career down the drain, reputation in ruins, you must think I'm such a freak..."
Spamton forced himself not to keep smiling, because for once, the dramatic diva routine seemed to be steeped in genuine misery.
"Doll, I do not think you're a freak whatsoever." Spamton patted him on the leg. "And your career and reputation ain't goin' nowhere, no one even knows but me. I'm just tryin' to understand it, y'know?"
The Addison hummed in thought for a moment, then asked, "Is it some kinda fetish thing or--"
Spamton winced when Tenna let out a wounded sort of noise.
"Oh, god, I can't do this," he murmured tearfully. He dug his his claws into the pillow, only to abandon it and tug at his antenna. "'Fetish thing,' you are so-- so insensitive, I don't know why I thought--"
"Ten, Ten, hey." Spamton gently took Tenna's wrists and pulled his hands into his lap. "I'm sorry; I'm tryin' to understand it and shit just comes outta my mouth sometimes, that's all."
Tenna deflated, letting his hands rest limply in Spamton's palms. "I don't know if you-- or anyone else --even could understand it..."
"Then maybe I oughta stop stickin' my foot in my mouth and let the guy who's goin' through it explain it instead." Spamton gave Tenna's hand a squeeze. "What's goin' through your box, babe? No more jumpin' the gun, promise."
Tenna stared down at their hands, the way his own larger ones somehow seemed dwarfed by Spamton's comparatively miniscule paws at that moment. Then, slowly, he gave them a squeeze, and finally set the pillow aside.
"... I don't know when exactly it started," Tenna said. "Couldn't have been too long after Tori and Asgore found out they were expecting. You remember how excited I was, right?"
Oh yes. Somehow just as much as the actual parents. Tenna had skipped through the halls, along the stage, trailing flower petals in his wake. Oh, a baby, Spammy, they're having a baby!
"Yeah, think I remember you bein' a little happy about it," Spamton teased.
"I thought I was just excited for them at first," Tenna continued. "They'd been trying to have a little one of their own for so long, at least as long as I've been their TV. Why wouldn't I be happy for them now that it's finally happening?"
"Mm," Spamton said. "But that's obviously not all, it is?"
"... no, it's not all." Tenna twiddled his thumbs as he stared at his lap. "I knew I was excited about being able to entertain a whole new family member; I mean," the CRT's usual cheerful lilt slipped into his voice, "do you have any idea what a golden age of children's television we're in?"
Oh boy. If Spamton didn't head this off, they'd never get back on topic.
"I'm telling you, Spammy, there is practically nothing you can't learn from TV nowadays--"
"Mhm, I bet--"
"--no disrespect intended to Tori, of course, you could never make great educational programming without teachers--"
"Tenna--"
"--but what's more fun than a bunch of puppets teaching a tyke how to read--?"
"Cathode." Spamton gave Tenna a pointed tap on the nose. "Your enthusiasm's great, always love it, but stick with the program for now, will ya'?"
Tenna pouted, folding his arms. "You just have no appreciation for the finer genres of TV, spoilsport."
"Then you can educate me all about it after we finish what we were talkin' about."
Tenna frowned a few seconds longer, before the corner of his lip twitched into a smile. "... fair enough. Ah, where was I?"
"Thinkin' ya' just wanted to entertain the new kid."
"Right, right... well," Tenna's hands settled back in his lap, "I thought that was the gist of it, but it's hardly the only thing I've been thinking about. It seems like I wake up with babies on the box in some kind of way almost all the time lately. And," Tenna hesitated, "and not always Asgore and Tori's either."
Spamton thought back to how involved Tenna had been with the ads lately. He'd been willing to accept that he just cared about helping the Dreemurrs, and that must have been at least part of it. But with all of this suddenly in mind...
"Tens," Spamton said. "Have you been thinkin' about havin' a kid?"
It felt so stupidly obvious in hindsight. Tenna must have known that too, the way he just hunched his shoulders and dug his fingers into his shirt. He turned away from Spamton, his screen glowing a pink verging on red.
"... it just seems so nice is all," Tenna murmured after a moment. "Watching Tori and really imagining it. Making a little person with someone you care about, having them all close and safe like that, knowing you'll get to raise them and watch them grow up..."
Spamton's brow furrowed as he tried to imagine it. Having something inside you the way Toriel did, a living thing that grew and grew and then came out of you? A little shudder ran up his back just thinking about it. That wasn't even getting into the morning sickness, the way Toriel had to change what she ate, the aches and pains... no, nothing about the way Lightners turned their bodies into houses to make kids sounded the least bit pleasant.
As for the part that actually came after? Well, Spamton had never had any reason to entertain the thought before, on account of it being flat out impossible.
"You don't have to say it's silly," Tenna said, as if he could read Spamton's mind. "I already know that just fine on my own. But it just won't get out of my box, no matter how many ads we make for cribs or bottle warmers. So," he shrugged heavily, "I just come in here and stick pillows up my shirt and pretend it's the real thing. There's your explanation." The CRT's tail curled around his leg as if to hug himself. "Maybe you should laugh about it after all..."
Spamton couldn't find anything funny about this. It should have been, with how cartoonish the scene prior to this conversation had been, but it wasn't. Not the way Tenna's lip wobbled just slightly on his screen, even as he tried to smother it with his teeth, or how Spamton could see his shoulders faintly trembling. The big guy's emotions always seemed to fit his stature, whether he was joyous or devastated, happy or humiliated, and dammit, Spamton hated to see him looking the way he did now. Like all that misery would crawl out of his casing and drown him in it.
"Hey," Spamton said, if only to fill the silence. He laid a hand on Tenna's thigh, imagining it must have seemed like minuscule comfort. "I mean, you are an actor. Nothin' wrong with pretendin', especially when it's what you're good at, right?"
The Addison cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. Shit, that was awful. Tenna gave no indication he felt one way or the other about it, but he still wasn't looking at him, and that felt like confirmation enough.
Spamton had never been any good when it came to comfort. He had flattery and compliments practically coming out of ass; when Tenna was acting like a diva because his tie had gotten wrinkled before going live, Spamton was there to say his handsome screen would be too distracting to notice it. When Tenna was anxious to know how he'd thought a broadcast went, Spamton could tell him it was perfect, a stunner, showstopping before he even had a chance to get all insecure. A pre-show pep talk? Hell, Spamton had practically invented the phrase I Love TV. They had shirts printed with it, for god's sake.
But moments like this? When Tenna was feeling small, literally and/or figuratively? Spamton always had to wrestle with those. Lock his arms around their neck and pin them to the ground, clamp them down like he was holding a belt in place on the Cungadero. All of which seemed counterintuitive to the idea of being gentle.
Spamton didn't even have a script to start with this one. Most of Tenna's worries centered around going out of style, not being hip or modern enough, or not performing to satisfactory, high-octane entertainment standards. The Addison had at least gotten a sense of how to help him through those in the three years they'd been together. But as much as he tried to pull for reassurances, even a semblance of them, nothing seemed like it would do much good here.
After all, at least those other woes had some sort of solution. Darkners just didn't have kids the way Lightners did; Spamton could count on one hand the amount of children he'd seen over the years, and those were typically a pre-made, pre-matched set with a parent. Darkners didn't really reproduce period, come to think of it. Viruses in Cyber City sort of did, but that was nowhere near a Lightner pregnancy. They just split themselves off to be sent around the city, around the sites, never a kid to begin with. Because they had something to represent them in the Light World. Because they had a purpose.
Spamton's face briefly twisted into a scowl.
Were they just gonna have to go to bed and pretend this hadn't happened, he wondered? Just go about their days knowing Tenna snuck in here at night to live out a meager fantasy, one that wasn't even his little secret anymore? God, Spamton hated letting shit like this go. Hated the notion that he couldn't do anything about it, that Tenna would be resigned to his longing and sorrow because Spamton had nothing that could quell it. Was he considering the implications of if he could have? No, not really. Only that he couldn't stand dissatisfaction, just as much as he couldn't stand the tears budding on Tenna's screen again.
"Sorry to hold you up with my nonsense," Tenna muttered, swiping them away with his arm. "Guess I should've locked the door; the last thing I wanted was for you to see that-- that completely humiliating--"
"Cathode, stop that," Spamton said. "It's not 'humiliatin' to want somethin', shit. I'm just tryin' to think, that's all--"
"Think about what?" Tenna turned to him with a wobbly smile. "Spammy, there's nothing to think about. I know that it... that it can't really happen, and that's--" his voice cracked, right before clearing his throat, "-- that's fine! Really, it, it's perfectly fine, and I don't expect you to be able to do anything about it--"
"I can do somethin', Ten!" Spamton interrupted him (they were both good at that), hating how indignant his own voice sounded. "Maybe not a real thing, no, but if you're already doin' this," he gestured to the pillow, "on your own, why can't I contribute? What the hell is it for Lightners anyway, 'sides havin' sex with an extra step? Angel knows we got no problem doin' half of that!"
Tenna chuffed halfheartedly. "If you're offering to diddle me until I feel better, I appreciate it, mailman, but I'm not in the mood. What would we even do? You wine me and dine me while I have the pillow stuffed up there?"
Spamton grimaced at the thought, which at least made Tenna chuckle.
"Thought so. Now, if you'll excuse me," Tenna moved to push himself off the bed, "I am going to take a shower and get these streaks off my screen--"
"Wait, Tenna, just--"
Tenna halted when Spamton took his wrist. He glanced down, screen shifting to surprise at the way his soft fingers curled against smooth metal. "Spammy...?"
"Work with me, alright? When have you ever been a guy willin' to settle for second best before?"
"It's not 'settling' if there's no better option," Tenna said. "Then it's working with what you have, like a budget made out of macaroni noodles and a dream. Even if we," his screen flushed that rosy pink Spamton coveted like kromer, "did do that, you'd have to actually... you know, leave something to really sell it, and I don't think your usual little presents would do the trick."
"I-- excuse me, 'little?'"
Tenna gave a shrug, having the nerve to look almost coy amidst the unreadable blush across his screen. "Relatively speaking, Spammy. But a little present is still a present, right?"
Spamton gladly would have launched into a back-and-forth over Tenna's twee remarks any other night. But tonight, when his head was going in directions he'd never had to consider before, they grabbed his attention and dragged it somewhere he thought he'd never need think about again. Somewhere back in Cyber City, peddling all the 'ads' he was given just to get by, sending them out to as many unsuspecting, ungrateful shmucks as possible with...
Hold on. Wait a second. The light bulb in his head was flickering. Would that work? No, definitely not, that was stupid. Wasn't it? He'd never tried something like that with them before, but when he mapped it out in his head like a blueprint, it didn't seem like there was any reason it shouldn't work--
"Spammy?" Tenna waved a hand in front of Spamton's face. "Yoohoo, where'd you go?"
Spamton batted it away with a furrowed brow. "Nowhere, I'm just thinking."
After a moment longer, he pulled his hand from Tenna's wrist, clasping them together with an inhale. "Okay. So. I have an idea that may-- heavy emphasis on may --help elevate this for you. I don't even know if it'll work, 'cause I've never tried actually doin' somethin' like it before, so it might end up bein' a load of--"
"Spamton, darling." Tenna silenced him with a finger against his lips. "Why don't you tell me what it is before you talk yourself out of it?"
Spamton huffed against his fingertip, because this boob-tube really did know him too well. "Alright, alright, ah..."
He considered how exactly to begin explaining this, which was always a challenge when it came to telling Tenna anything related to the internet. Spamton could always tell he tried to understand it, but it never stopped the concepts from staying fuzzy around the edges. And that was just for something as rudimentary as what an email was. What hope did he have of articulating something like this?
Without visuals, Spamton wasn't sure he'd manage it. So, without much fanfare, he waved one into existence in the palm of his hand.
Tenna gasped in spite of his gloobiness, leaning down to peer at it. "I-- how in the world did you do that? Is that like one of those little 'pop-upped' things you can do?" A pause. "... why is it shaped like an egg?"
"This," Spamton held it up for a better look, "is a pipis. Addisons got a lot of ground to cover with makin' sales, but we can't reach everybody on the net just walkin' around on our own. So we make these puppies," Spamton tapped the royal blue shell, "fill 'em with ads for whatever we're sellin', and send 'em out. They crack open, shoot the ads to whoever's email or webpage or whatnot, and bam! You got ten more chances for sales instead of one."
Tenna, unsurprisingly, just stared at him. Spamton could imagine the thoughts trying to compute in that tube of his, probably fighting to recall what a webpage was before he could even fathom the object before him.
Then, his lips pressed into a line, and he let out barely suppressed snicker.
Spamton's brows raised. "What's so funny?"
"Is that really what you call it?" Tenna's smile wobbled. "A 'pipis?'"
Spamton's already rosy cheeks flushed red. Was that really the only thing he'd taken from all that?
"I-- I don't know, yeah, what's it to ya'?"
"It's a funny word!" Tenna tittered, holding a hand to his mouth. "'Pipis.' Ha! It's like 'bubble,' or 'hullabaloo,' y'know? How do you say it with a straight face?"
"'Cause it's a part of me?" Here they went, losing the plot again. "I don't know, is the word 'tube' funny at all to you?"
"I mean, a little bit," Tenna admitted. "But I think there's a world of difference between 'tube' and 'pipis,' don't you?"
"If I say yes, will ya' shut your yap and let me explain why I brought it up in the first place?"
"Right, you're right, sorry." Tenna held up his hands, inhaled to collect himself, and exhaled. "Okay. Continue, please."
"Thank you." Spamton cleared his throat. "The whole thing is: when we don't fill 'em with ads, they're just hollow shells. Sturdy, but empty." He knocked his knuckles against the side. "Don't know why they're like that, so don't ask, but that's how they work. And we usually just pop 'em up outta nowhere like I did just now, but we can really make 'em in pretty much any kinda way. And I do mean any."
Spamton gave him a meaningful look. Tenna connecting the dots on modern tech was a miracle most days, but he figured he could be counted on to understand the lilt to his partner's brow.
Spamton's words hit their mark. Tenna's pink glow burned into a bright red, brow shooting up nearly to his antenna. "You mean they can come out of your-- oh my lord, Spammy, how the hell did you find a thing like that out?"
"Ah, well, y'know," Spamton scratched the back of his head, "parties in Cyber City can get pretty nuts-- you've seen how wild Queen's mansion can be --and when you've had a little too much battery acid and ya' wanna do a little party trick, ya' figure makin' a pipis come outta your dick is as good as--"
Tenna burst into a fit of giggles. "Oh my goodness, please just call it an egg, I can't take it!"
"How the hell is 'egg' less funny than 'pipis' here?!"
"Because 'pipis' sounds so much like--" Tenna snorted behind his hands, "like 'penis,' and then you put both of them side by side, and it's pure alliterative gold!"
Spamton wasn't sure what was more annoying: the way that Tenna could be so childish, or the fact that he had to fight not to smile about it.
"Y'know, if you're not gonna take this seriously," Spamton turned as if to slide off the bed, "I can just head on outta here--"
"Nooooo, please!" Tenna wrapped his arms around Spamton's waist, still laughing, screen pressing into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, really. I won't laugh about it anymore, so tell me where you're going with this. (But seriously, just call it an egg.)"
Spamton rolled his eyes as the CRT nuzzled against his back, but nonetheless smiled in earnest. Annoying or not, he'd take hearing Tenna giggling about stupid shit over crying into a pillow any day of the week.
The Addison huffed out a sigh. "Ain't it obvious? I'm thinkin' about puttin' some of these--" he nodded to the pipis-- sorry, the "egg," "--into you."
The shoe dropped. Any remains of Tenna's laughter trickled off as Spamton's words presumably sank in. There wasn't really any room for interpretation or misunderstanding this time. Point A to point B, no assembly required, no fine print at the bottom. Spamton didn't know how he expected his partner to react, because if he was honest, he hadn't caught up with how he felt about it himself. It was an idea, an impulse, and everything else could come after. If they even got to that point.
The CRT didn't say anything for a moment. The only indication he'd heard Spamton at all was the silence, and the screen gradually warming against his back. Then, slowly, he felt the weight of Tenna's box lift away. Spamton turned to face him, greeted by a furrowed brow and an expression that may have been confused, may have been shocked, may have been flustered.
"I-- sorry, that just wasn't what I thought you were gonna say. I don't know what I thought you were gonna say, but that, ah... that sure is a thinker, huh?"
Tenna glanced to the "egg." Spamton watched the weight of his own admission really sink in this time, with the way his partner's antenna twisted themselves together and steam puffed from his vents.
"Can, uh…" Tenna's hands twitched in his lap. "Can I hold it? See what it feels like?"
Spamton blinked in surprise. "Yeah, sure. You wanna take your gloves off, or...?"
Tenna did just that, and shortly after, Spamton passed the "egg" into his partner's hands.
"Oh," Tenna murmured, weighing it in his palms. "It's a little heavier than I thought it'd be, being empty and all." He stared at himself in the reflective shell, brushing a thumb along the smooth surface. "It really does look so much like an egg. Are you sure it wouldn't--?"
Spamton caught the hopeful tinge to Tenna's voice and brought it back to earth. "No, Tens, it won't. You know as well as I do that ain't how that works."
The Addison frowned at his own words just as Tenna's shoulders drooped. "Yeah, of course, I-- I know that. Just thought that maybe since it was some internet thing, maybe... never mind, I don't know what I thought."
Spamton exhaled through his nose. "You said I'd have to leave somethin' behind to really sell it, right? Well, there's 'somethin'' for ya'. It's still like playin' pretend, just takin' it to the next jump. And like I said before, I got no clue if it would actually work or not. Do you even have anywhere you could... I dunno, hold 'em for a minute?"
Spamton felt like a prude, the way his face warmed up just talking about the idea, but this was pretty out there, even for him.
Tenna scrutinized his front, patting a hand down his diaphragm to his belly. He hesitated, then let it rest at the bottom. "There's some empty space right around here; no wires, no switches or anything like that. Lucky us, huh?"
Warm air from Tenna's vents kissed Spamton's face as he turned back to him, brow upturned. "If-- if we did try this, does it hurt you? Popping them outta there?"
Spamton cleared his throat. "I mean, I was pretty shit-faced last time I tried, so I don't remember too much about how it felt. Figured we'd cross that bridge if we got there."
Spamton could tell that wasn't the answer Tenna hoped for, if his slight pout was any indication, but he didn't argue as he glanced down at himself. "And... do you think it would hurt me?"
The Addison tried to approximate an answer based on any prior information, and, having none, could only uncomfortably shrug. "I don't know."
He watched Tenna weigh those options in his box. Spamton had already made up his mind for himself; if it hurt, really hurt, he guessed he would concede in spite of his wounded pride. (Though, even if he had been three sheets to the wind, he figured he would remember at least a little bit about his dick hurting if it had).
But the rest was Tenna's decision to make. If he said no solely on Spamton's account, he would have no problem pitching a shit about it. But if he was afraid for himself? That his body wouldn't be able to handle it, that something might get stuck or rip in half? Now that Spamton had put those thoughts in his own head, he sure as hell wouldn't protest if Tenna said no.
But any wonder over if he would-- as well as (mostly) any trepidation on Spamton's part over his own impulsive bullshit --faded away when Tenna turned back to him, screen lit with a cautious sort of hope. "... you would really wanna do this for me? You don't think it's weird and kooky?"
"I mean," a smile slid onto Spamton's face, "it's a little weird. But you're a TV host, cathode. Makin' weird look good is in your job description.
"And in what world," Spamton turned to brace a hand on Tenna's thigh, giving it a rub, "would I not wanna give my shining star anything he wants?"
Jackpot. Tenna's thighs pressed together, his screen burned red, and his teeth dug against his shaking smile. "Oh, Spammy, you--"
"But," Spamton pulled back, hands held up as she shrugged, "you said you weren't in the mood, so I guess we can always save it for another night--"
As predictable as a weeknight TV guide, Tenna lurched forward and grabbed Spamton by the hips. The Addison grinned when Tenna pulled him into a kiss, a laugh smothered by his lips. The demonstrative pipis-- "egg," goddammit --slid from his grasp and cracked into pieces on the ground, ignored by both of them.
Tenna pulled back after a moment, speaking with a breathless grin, "How's that for being in the mood, huh?"
"Mm, I think I got your point," Spamton said. He brushed his fingers down the side of Tenna's box, caressing the warm plastic. "But you're bein' awfully assertive for a guy who doesn't need to do anything but lay there."
Spamton kicked his worries to the curb just as swiftly as he took Tenna by the tie and pulled him toward the pillows. Tenna gasped, taken aback as ever at how deceptively strong Spamton could be, dropped near the headboard as his partner pinned a knee against his chest.
"You don't have to prove anythin' to me, baby." Spamton took in the sight of him. Breathless, flushed, hands fallen around his box, staring at his partner with something that felt like awe. No, Spamton thought, there was no room for thumb twiddling here. "I already know how badly you want this."
Spamton pressed a kiss to Tenna's lips. Low and deep, tongue grazing his, only to pull back before it could linger. With the CRT's trembling breath still brushing his mouth, he murmured, "You want me to make you a daddy, don't you?"
He didn't expect his own words to get him hard that fast. Spamton leaned forward, partially for another kiss, partially so Tenna could feel his tent press against him. He felt Tenna inhale, the sound melting into a moan caught in his throat; his hands were trembling as he fumbled to wrap Spamton in a hug, the sap that he was.
"Spammy," Tenna breathed when he could speak. His screen was lightly fogged by steam, giving the illusion of sweat, somehow desperate already, yet held back by hesitance as he stuttered. "I'm-- I--"
"What, are you embarrassed?" Spamton chuckled, laying one more kiss on his lips that he trailed down his screen. "No need for that, big shot. I wanna hear you tell me all about it."
Down, down, down Spamton went. Along Tenna's metal neck, the exposed casing between his dress shirt, giving way to the pale grey silicone of his belly as he unbuttoned his top. He lingered there, laying kisses to that spot between his hips, hands idly rubbing just above it.
"How many do ya' want, baby?" Spamton murmured, lightly nipping the silicone with his teeth. "Just gimme a number and I'll make it happen..."
His eyes drifted up to Tenna's screen. Steam flowed from his vents, fingers trembling against his mouth, blush crossed between pink and color bars. His breath clipped as Spamton's hands brushed down his hips, tears budding above his nose, looking liable to melt into the sheets before anything had even happened, coming apart from Spamton's hands and mouth alone.
"One," a trembling moan tumbled out of him, "or-- oh --as many as you can-- can give me, S-Spammy, so long as--"
Spamton's mouth crept further down, hands still brushing over his belly, lips stopping to kiss the heat of Tenna's covered clit. He grinned wickedly at the sound of words dissolving into a croak, craving the way Tenna had to fight just to speak.
"--oh, oh god, as-- as long as they're yours..."
Something that might have been his heart fluttered in Spamton's chest. He never paid attention to things like that, to himself, not really. Too much happening on the outside, too many things to do, a seemingly endless ladder to climb to the stars if that was what it took to shine above all the rest. If that was the only way to be seen, to be appreciated, to move beyond the station of garbage at the bottom of the neglected spam button, Spamton would drag himself up rung by rung, pulled by the cord of a phone, reaching for the warmth of what it meant to be wanted.
Tenna had met him halfway from the moment they'd met. When he reached for his hand to seal their partnership, glowing with unabashed admiration. Him, Mr. Ant Tenna, the commander of a stage that captivated Lightners of all ages for years, who had panache and flare and style those hacks in Cyber City fumbled to capture in the midst of sheer novelty, looking at Spamton like he'd never seen anything so incredible, so striking, he who harnessed the light of heaven in his face.
As long as they're yours.
"Yeah?" Spamton forced his voice to keep steady. His fluttering heart had kicked into hammering, spreading heat through his whole body but concentrating between his legs. "As many as I can?"
Deft fingers undid Tenna's belt, pulled down his zipper and yanked his pants and boxers down his legs. Spamton was greeted by damp silicone, a line of wetness running from Tenna's cunt down the curve of his ass. He could feel his heat just above his lips, couldn't help himself from leaning in and burying them in his warmth.
Tenna mewled as Spamton circled his tongue with his clit, hips arching beneath his hands. Spamton chuckled huskily, giving the erect button a coy suckle, moisture running down his lips in rivets.
"I'll give 'em to you, baby," Spamton murmured between kisses. His hands slid back down to Tenna's stomach-- no, his womb, tracing sloppy hearts along it with his fingers. "You want 'em right here, don't ya'? Bet you're gonna take real good care of 'em for me..."
It was just part of "playing pretend," a wayward thought whispered. Tending to Tenna's little fantasy in the only way he thought possible, with a bit of sweet talk thrown in to really sell it. But then, why were his legs starting to tremble the longer he spoke? Why was his cock straining so tightly against his pants? Why was he suddenly desperate for Tenna to cum, a little extra insurance for what was about to go inside him?
"Spammy, Spammy." Tenna's gasping brought him back to the moment. The moisture coating his lips, the CRT writhing beneath him, his thighs threatening to clamp around his head. "Don't-- don't tease me like this, hurry-- hurry up, oh, oh, hurry up..."
Spamton blinked his vision back into focus, smirking at the whine in Tenna's voice. He dragged his hands from his belly to his inner thighs, pinning his legs down on the mattress.
"Awfully demandin' from the guy who needs me to knock him up." Fuck. "You waited this long, haven't you, daddy?" A hand lovingly rubbed the soft give of silicone. "Can't ya' have a little patience while I get you all ready to go?"
Tenna huffed out steam, screen glowing with something between frustration and adoration, claws digging into the sheets. "I am ready! You're the one who's stalliiiiiiiiiiing!"
His speakers went high and keening when Spamton stuffed two, three fingers inside him. He sucked at his clit, fucking him hard and fast, hoping to open him up a little more. The tips of his fingers brushed Tenna's cervix, as much for show as the rest of his cunt, urging that it would open up and accept whatever he had to give in a few minutes time.
Tenna came in short order, speakers nearly peaking with his moans and box craning against the pillows. He'd always been a bit of a chump when it came to finishing; Spamton couldn't count the number of times he'd came before Spamton even properly worked himself up. It usually wasn't much of a problem (for an old guy, he had stamina in spades), but tonight, it eased the nagging thought that even attempting this would tear him to shreds.
Spamton sat up, listening to the sweet music that was Tenna's shuddering, panting breaths, licking his slick off his lips, off his fingers. "How's that for stallin', huh?"
"You," Tenna managed when he could find his voice, "seemed pretty happy to t-tease me with all those things you were saying..."
"Teasin'? Me? You must be thinkin' of a different guy." Spamton chuckled at Tenna's fighting-not-to-be-a-smile pout. "That wasn't teasin', cathode. I was just tryin' to warm you up so you could take all of 'em for me."
Tenna let out a quiet gulp, but any wonder that he may have been anxious dashed by his hesitant, yet eager grin. "How, um... how many are we talking here?"
"What'd I tell you? As many as you want, big guy." Spamton leaned in to let his clothed cock brush over Tenna's folds. "No real limit on p-- eggs here. How many do ya' think you can handle?"
"Oh my goodness," Tenna breath, giggles dancing at the edge of his voice. His shaking hands moved to Spamton's hips, fingers curling around his waistband. "I dunno; why don't we stop waiting and find out?"
"Impatient," Spamton chuffed. "Guess you've earned it, though." He nudged Tenna's hands aside to reach for his belt, exhaling when his fingers brushed the tent in his pants. "Grab the lube for me, will ya'?"
"Why?" Tenna asked, even as he reached for it in the bedside table drawer. "Don't you have me gushing enough as is?"
Such a way with words. Spamton sighed with relief when he finally tugged his trousers down his legs; his cock squirmed out of his underwear, the tentacle idly flexing and dripping precum against his thighs. "Wanna make sure it's good for you, cathode. Figure a little extra help can't hurt..."
Tenna hummed with delight as he passed him the canister. "You are such a sweetheart, did you know that? A love letter, that's what you are."
"Disgusting," Spamton replied, scooping a palmful of viscous, clear lube. "I'm gonna file a defamation report if you keep that up."
"It'll be vetoed and denied~"
Only with Tenna could Spamton hear this much mushy shit and still be this hard. He gasped, actually gasped, the nerve of it all, when his hand met his cock. It curled into his fingers, driblets of cum running down his fingers as he coated himself in lube from base to tip, biting his lip all the while. Embarrassing as this lazy orgasm was, he'd take every opportunity for loosening up that he could get.
"Okay..." Spamton set the lube aside, freeing up his hands to wrap around Tenna's thighs. Both of them inhaled when Spamton's cock flicked lovingly against Tenna's clit, cum mingling together in an already sopping mess. "Think this is as good as we're gonna get."
As Spamton eyed his cock brushing along Tenna's folds, tip nudging dangerously close to his entrance, he was struck by a moment of clarity. When he started fucking him, as soon as he got even the inclination start focusing an "egg" down there, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from seeing at least one through. One head may have been desperate to get this show on the road, but a cooler one prevailed.
"If this hurts ya'," Spamton managed, "ya' gotta tell me and I'll stop, alright? Draggin' ya' to Cyber City for an Ambyu-Lance ain't my idea of a fun night."
"And," Tenna swallowed, "if it hurts you, I'll call it quits too. Maybe we should," he bit his lip at a nudge against his clit, "h-have some kind of safe word?"
"Yeah, that'd work..." Spamton pondered with his limited brain capacity, then smirked. "What about 'pipis?'"
Tenna snorted, turning his face into the pillows as he dissolved into a fit of laughter. "Sure, why not? So long as you're okay with me going to pieces if I hear it!"
If this goes alright, Spamton thought, I won't have to be okay with it.
Tenna's words from earlier echoed in his ears. Right. No more stalling. He thought if he tried, his cock may develop a mind of its own.
Spamton thrust forward, sliding all the way into Tenna's pussy with no resistance. A low groan went through his throat, eyes briefly rolling back as he met him up to their hips, helped along by the lube and how wet they both were. He felt his tip pressing against his cervix, immensely grateful that Darkner genitals didn't need to be strictly accurate to whatever Lightners had going on. If they did, even just attempting this might kill both of them.
"I'm gonna," Spamton muttered, hips rolling shakily against Tenna's, arms bracing his thighs, "start the first one, okay?"
"I can handle it," Tenna managed, even though he had no way of knowing that. His arms were looped behind his box, grasping at the pillows, looking so eager and needy and beautiful. "Give it to me, Spammy, put-- put it in me, I need to know what it's like, please..."
His words went straight to Spamton's cock, and suddenly, almost without his input, Spamton felt it. A pressure about the size of his fist, maybe a little bigger, straining low and heavy at the base of his cock. The tentacle twitched, squeezed, and Spamton could only open his mouth in a soundless croak as it pumped through him. He forced himself to look down, half-lidded eyes watching that bump slide through him and brace Tenna's entrance.
"Fuck, Tens, it's--" Spamton's heart thudded in his ears as he watched it stretch Tenna's cunt, "it's comin', it's--"
The highest swell of the "egg" dragged against Tenna's clit on the way in, and like he hadn't come at all the first time, Spamton felt his cunt clench around him. Tenna let out a sound between a moan and a shout, the noise melting into gasps and panting breaths. The air grew hot with steam, Spamton's hands straining to hold his lover steady, even as his vision grew spotty as his cock was milked for all it was worth.
"Spammy--!" Tenna's cunt drank the "egg" in deeper, nearly to his cervix. His face glitched with static, hands shivering as they fumbled from the pillows, grasping at the air in front of him. "Spamton, Spamton--"
"'m here." Spamton grabbed Tenna's hands in both of his own and held them tight, squeezing just as much for himself as that hard-shelled mass braced the tip of his cock. "I've got you, Tens, I-- fuck, fuck, fuck--!"
The "egg" finally slipped out with a gush of cum. It pressed into Tenna and slid the rest of the way home with shocking ease; the two of them held each other tight, choking out shuddering breaths, settling with the literal and figurative weight of what had just happened.
"Holy shit," Spamton croaked, sweat beading on his forehead. It hadn't even hurt, he thought distantly. Just a hell of a lot of pressure and the sweet ache of release. "Holy shit, that was-- oh, shit, Ten, what--?"
A soft, breathy sob caught Spamton's attention. He looked to Tenna in alarm, bracing a hand on his hip, the other grasping at his hand. Tears were budded on his screen as he struggled to catch his breath, body shivering where it was flush with his lover.
"Ten," Spamton urged. "Baby, look at me, are you okay? Are ya' hurt? I didn't hear ya' say--"
"It didn't hurt," Tenna muttered; Spamton finally recognized the smile on his face for what it was. "I can-- it's--"
Words apparently failing him, Tenna took Spamton's hand and brought it down low on his belly. His fingers ran along smooth, unchanged silicone for a moment, and then they met it.
Spamton's brows shot to his forehead. He gently palmed the almost invisible, yet unmistakable bump nestled inside his lover, tucked away safe and sound.
"It worked," Spamton murmured in disbelief. "It's actually in there, I-- can ya' feel that?"
"Yes!" Tenna laughed, the sound light and watery. "You did it, Spammy, you really did it..."
If Tenna said anything else after that, the sounds of it drifted away in a haze. All Spamton could hear was the joy teeming in his voice, the memory of those moans in his head, and all he could pay attention to beyond that was settled under his hand.
He had given that to him. A part of himself, something tangible and solid and real, planted it inside his womb and let it settle like something that could make a home there. Even if it couldn't, even if this was only a facsimile of the real thing, that didn't make anything else about it false. Spamton had left something inside the star he loved because he was his, and because Tenna had wanted none other than what he could provide.
What he still could provide.
Spamton hardly even needed to focus to feel the production of new "eggs" starting, far more than just one more, two of them already sliding up his cock.
Tenna croaked when the first of them slid inside him, a second following in rapid succession. "S-Spammy--!"
Spamton leaned forward to crush his lips into Tenna's, leaning against his belly all the while. "You said as many as I could, yeah?" His hips rutted shakily, pumping a third, a fourth egg through Tenna's cunt. "One ain't enough. I'm gonna give you-- mm --as many as you can carry. Shouldn't be hard, yeah? You're-- ah --so big, baby; you can fit all my eggs in there, can't ya'?"
Tenna let out a choked sound that crashed into a whimper when a fifth "egg" caught on his clit. Spamton felt his cunt hug his cock tight, urging more "eggs" through his tip, thoroughly stretched and willing from the first one's exit.
"No way am I lettin' a pillow be the thing that had you lookin' pregnant," Spamton said, voice tinged with a growl. He laid his hands over Tenna's belly, cupped the growing give against his fingers; he felt the next egg when it settled in next to its siblings, filling his lover with another rush of cum from that alone. "Feel it, baby. That's the real deal for ya'..."
Tenna's arms shook as he brought them to cradle his stomach, his actual stomach, not a fucking pillow. The swell of his belly was defined now, looking the way Toriel's had when the pregnancy finally became obvious.
"So good for me," Spamton murmured. He tipped his head toward Tenna's newfound bump and laid a kiss over the firm give, tenderly rubbing the silicone as his cock pulsed and his hips thrust. "Such a good daddy, aren't you...?"
Tenna let out a half-delirious sound, tears spilling down a smile that couldn't form words anymore, only pant and moan and writhe. Spamton leaned against his belly, pinning him down, knowing before long that the weight of the eggs would do it for him.
Spamton stopped knowing much of anything after that. He lost count of the eggs after the 10th, forgot how many weak orgasms squeezed through both of them. All he knew was egg after egg, Tenna's dripping and ruined cunt, the swell that went through his cock and added to the clutch safe in his lover's belly. Hands rubbed over taut silicone, kissed it at the curve, front draped against it when his knees went numb. Somewhere in the mush that was his brain he thought, I don't think I've ever made this many pipis in all my fuckin' life. But something that felt too animal for a guy made of code said no, not pipis, eggs, part of himself mingling with part of Tenna, seeding him, filling him, giving him exactly what he wanted, fucking him so full he could hardly squirm anymore.
Then, after god knows how long, no other eggs joined the last one inching lazily out of his cock. Instinctively, Spamton knew why. Nearly every limb aside from his dick was tingly and numb, his hair damp with sweat, eyes struggling just to stay open. Pipis-- eggs --not-- whatever, they didn't use up the core code of an Addison, but they evidently couldn't be made infinitely.
"Ant." Spamton grunted, giving a halfhearted thrust to push it in the rest of the way. "Last one, okay...?"
"No," Tenna replied with an exhausted whine. His languid hands parted from his belly to grab at Spamton's hips, trying and failing to hold him inside. "More, I can... I can take more, I can handle it, I can..."
"No more left," Spamton murmured. He only pulled out when he was sure it was nestled inside with the rest. He peered up at his lover, barely able to appreciate a job well done through the fog of fatigue, but the warm glow of pride in his chest persisted. No settling for second best anymore.
Tenna's screen had dimmed when Spamton turned to look at him again, fighting sleep and failing. In lieu of keeping them connected, he reached for Spamton, womb full but arms empty. "Spammy..."
"Comin', baby..." Spamton crawled to him with a miracle, shocked he had even the strength to do that. He collapsed against Tenna's chest, a hand falling over his stomach. Metallic arms circled him and pulled him in close, enough for Tenna's screen to bury against his head and weep quiet tears into his hair. "Ant..."
"Love you," Tenna whispered shakily. Sleepy kisses brushed his forehead, legs curling as best they could around Spamton and his own belly. "Love you, love you, love you..."
Spamton thought he might have said it himself. If he did, it only mattered that Tenna heard it. But maybe he hadn't. Maybe the last hour had finally claimed him too, pulling him down, down, into the warmth of the covers and their fucked and battered nerves and the weight of Spamton's gifts between them and a sleep that dragged them under together.
