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“You're quiet today.”
“Huh?”
A puff of air escaped Tenna. While it hadn't been initially noticeable, at least not during their show, it was hard for Tenna to ignore the minor shift in Spamton’s demeanor. As mentioned, he was particularly quiet which, for the salesman, was an oddity. It was a challenge getting him to shut up and yet now? There was nothing but the radio quietly humming.
“I said you're quiet.”
“Oh.” Spamton’s brow furrowed. He took a drag from his cigarette and flicked the ash out his window. “A lot on my mind. Just thinking.”
“Try not to hurt yourself.”
Spamton's glare was met with a devious grin from Tenna.
“I don't need to try, I've got someone to do that for me.”
A hand moved to pull open the ash tray and stamp out the butt–he’d had Tenna bitch enough about flicking them out the window. Afterwards, it found itself on Tenna’s thigh, creeping inward.
“SPAMTON–J– keep your hands on the WHEEL .”
Despite the flustered command, he'd settled on squeezing his thigh and Tenna allowed the hand to rest there.
“Seriously, anything important? The show went okay, right? I thought it went well.”
“It went fine, Tens, stop stressing.” He shifted, pressing his head against the rest, and his hand adjusted itself on the wheel. “Seriously, it's nothing that concerns you. Got some drama back in the city, is all. Then again, I guess drama isn't even the right word considering it's all settled. Just ruminating.”
Tenna’s mouth tugged into a frown.
“You're sure you don't want to talk about it? I know you've usually got a lot on your mind but it isn't typically enough to get you of all people to shut your mouth.”
“Oh, you're ripe today, huh?” There wasn't a hint of malice in that statement. Instead, Spamton was very clearly amused. “Are you trying to comfort me or get me going?”
“That depends, where are you taking me?”
“There's an event going on in the city, one of the more exclusive clubs. Lotta hot shots going to be there, figure it'd be nice to show our faces. Then, maybe, we could go somewhere a little more fun.”
“So you want to party and drink.”
“Hey, hey, business can be fun. And we can have just as much fun after the fact.”
Tenna released a dramatic sigh.
“I guess that’s on me–thinking you’d have me get dressed up to take me somewhere nice.”
“Keep it up, Ant. I'll show you a night so extravagant you'll have me screaming your name afterwards as a thank you.”
He wished he could stop his screen from turning a soft shade of pink.
“Alright, maybe I don't need you to go that far.” After all, Tenna's love language was–well, he supposed a lot . He liked affection–alright, he demanded it, which was often a sore spot between him and Spamton. A hand squeezed his thigh–something the businessman refused to replicate in public. After working out he was, not, in fact, embarrassed of him, and that he was just weird about being touched in public, he slowly got over that barrier. Anyway, love language–he also liked gift giving. But getting spoiled himself? It always made him squirm.
“Either way, sorry to spring this on you. It’s good to get your face out there, though.”
Tenna scoffed.
“Oh, just mine?”
Neither of them were stupid. They knew they mutually benefited from these events–from their public relationship. The gloved hand removed itself from his thigh, and Tenna felt his heart drop. He supposed he deserved it after the smart remark. Surprisingly, it moved to, instead, intertwine their hands. Spamton’s thumb rubbed circles around Tenna’s. Hah–stupid. A little gesture like that had a heat rising through him.
“Yea, yours this time, babes. This is my stomping ground. I’ll be schmoozing for the hell of it. And I suppose I could talk up my business partner–y’know. As a favor to him.”
Tenna smirked.
“Oh, really? He must be someone special if a big shot like Spamton is willing to talk him up.”
“Oh, he’s something, alright.” Spamton mused. “Maybe a bit overbearing at times, but it can be overlooked.”
“Alright, watch it.”
Spamton laughed and Tenna couldn’t help but bristle in response. He pushed back into his seat and turned to watch the flashing lights of the city pass by his window.
At the very least, he hadn’t exaggerated when he said it was exclusive–Tenna was talking with some real highballers. Sure, since his show had taken off, Tenna was certainly never hurting for money, but these people–they spent it like it was water. Unsurprisingly, Spamton knew exactly how to take advantage of it.
“How many drinks have you paid for tonight?” Tenna had asked the salesman who was sipping on a glass of bourbon.
Spamton beamed back at the question, and in turn, took a puff from his cigar.
“How many do you think I’ve paid for?”
Tenna wasn’t sure if he was outraged or impressed. Regardless of his thoughts, he took the glass from Spamton’s hands and finished it.
“Hey!” Though he was hardly angry, instead, a flurry of laughter followed.
“I thought you were going to help me meet some new faces?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?”
As if on cue, Spamton had waved down a nearby businessman who had joined their small table. If it hadn’t been for Tenna reminding Spamton they had other places to be (he didn’t know where the hell that was; he could never gauge where he’d be dragged on any given evening), he was sure Spamton could have gone on for the remainder of the evening.
It was hard for Tenna to adjust to the bustle of the city, even at later hours, and especially on the weekends. He was smaller on the streets; he felt the volume of people accompanied by the narrow sidewalks made it easier, however, he felt it also made it easier for him to get lost in the crowd. He was surprised Spamton had allowed him to slink an arm around his own. He would attribute the good mood to the alcohol.
“I think that went well.” Spamton had mused, meanwhile a hand rose to slick back the few pieces of hair that had escaped his gel.
“Everything goes well when you’re there, Spam.”
A gentle laugh escaped him with that comment, meanwhile his hand slipped back into his pocket to match the other.
“Come on, Tens, I just introduced you. You did all the smooth talking.”
“You were the one coasting on free drinks, let’s not forget that.”
“Okay, well, that’s a completely different skill set, babes. Talking to get drinks and talking to make a deal are very–very–”
Tenna tripped over his own feet. While he may not have stood at his typical height, he still had to maneuver so as not to crush Spamton who had abruptly halted his stride. At first, Tenna was mildly embarrassed considering the other darkners who had to dodge around them. Then he was annoyed at Spamton for the sudden break in their pace.
“What the hell?” Tenna wanted to choke on his words when he finally glanced at Spamton’s face.
He’d stopped in front of a large window, the warm glow of light illuminated his expression. He looked–devastated. Completely and utterly heartbroken . Tenna’s own expression shifted to one of concern.
“Spamton? What–”
Before Tenna could even voice his question he was being dragged off in the opposite direction.
“Hah! My bad–God damn, one too many already. Brain went on autopilot–I don’t even like that bar.”
Tenna frowned.
“Then why would your first instinct be to walk there?”
Spamton was good, Tenna had to give him that much. He hardly faltered with the question.
“I used to go there all the time before I had the money to go somewhere actually worthwhile.”
They both knew he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. It was the only time Tenna saw a brief crack in his exterior. After a lengthy sigh, his pace slowed, and he moved to rub the back of his neck.
“I guess maybe–well, I get nostalgic every now and then, okay? Sue me.”
It was a funny thought, Tenna supposed–and he also knew he could relate. Successful as he was, there would always be little things he was afforded in his smaller days that would rouse a welcomed sense of nostalgia. With a puff of air, he leaned over to press a kiss against Spamton’s temple.
“Aww, Spammy, isn’t that cute, seeing you be sentimental?”
“HEY, ALRIGHT, knock it off. I’ll take my perky ass back to that party and tell ‘em I changed my mind.”
“Perky, really?”
“Hey, this perky ass got me free drinks.”
A genuine laugh escaped Tenna as Spamton dragged him into the nightclub he had, supposedly, intended on visiting.
It was loud; the music blared so violently Tenna could feel the vibrations. Drink after drink had been shoved into his hand. Smoke lingered in the air, a mix of fog and cigarettes. While Tenna usually would have eaten every second of the night up he couldn’t shake the feeling something was intrinsically wrong.
Spamton could hold his liquor; it was just a fact Tenna had come to accept. Unlike himself, it was very rare he would be stumbling home, sick from the alcohol, hungover the proceeding day. He had always been good at pacing himself. Tonight, however, he watched him knock back drink after drink. He mixed. When he returned to their booth, it was with his third round of shots he’d bought Tenna that evening. They toasted and knocked back the alcohol, Tenna shivering as it burned his throat. He jolted when a hand grabbed his inner thigh from under the table–of course, away from prying eyes. Spamton had leaned over, his lips so close to Tenna’s face he could feel the heat of his breath–he was almost certain Spamton, in turn, could feel the heat his vents expelled working overtime.
“My place?”
It was all Tenna needed to hear to get him sliding out of the booth and proceeding towards the door.
Surprisingly, Spamton couldn’t keep his hands off of him. As they exited the club, a hand had gripped his ass, causing Tenna to jump. He moved, then, to grab his hand as they walked. Multiple times he’d raised their limbs and pressed deep kisses onto the back of his palm. It was completely unlike him, but it wasn’t as if Tenna was about to complain.
Spamton’s apartment was messier than usual, though he supposed it wasn’t anything terribly egregious. Besides, it was hard to focus on the room when Spamton was all over him the second they crossed the threshold. Tenna had hardly made it to the couch before he was being shoved back. He wasted little time; Spamton straddled his hips, pressed his hands into his chest and kissed him deeply–Tenna could taste the alcohol, hell, he could smell it coming off of him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Spamton this drunk in their entire time knowing one another.
His hands moved quickly, they were messy as they worked at removing the tie from Tenna’s neck. Once loose, he pulled it from his collar, and worked on the buttons of his shirt. When he’d freed his neck, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against it.
“God, I wish I could give you a fucking hickey.”
“Fuck, Spam, the hell’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing yet .” He huffed, meanwhile his lips had moved to just under Tenna’s face.
He was surprised when a hand wrapped around his wrist.
“Spamton–are you alright?”
Spamton’s brow furrowed.
“Yea, Tens, I’m right as rain–are you trying to tease me or something because I’m not into it.” He quickly pulled his hand away and, instead, pushed up on the couch, allowing him to reposition himself. With the size difference, he struggled to straddle further up near his chest in order to grab his face.
“Fuck, Tens, come on–if I can’t give you one–” Spamton rolled his head, exposing his neck. “Give me a little something?”
Tenna didn’t move. Spamton’s brow furrowed once more.
He turned back and, instead, moved to grab Tenna’s hands. He’d allowed himself to be maneuvered; Spamton pinned his arms above his head.
“ Come on , I told you I’m not into teasing.”
A drop splashed against Tenna’s screen.
“You’re crying, Spamton.”
Spamton blinked. Once–twice. Tenna’s hands were released, allowing Spamton to raise a shaking one to wipe his face. When he pulled his hand back, he stared at the smeared tear drops.
“H–Hah. What–haha. What the fuck?”
He was smiling–it looked painful. Meanwhile, he seemed to be attempting to stop the stubborn tears that continued to fall. Tenna sat upright, careful not to drop the man. Instead, he shifted to maneuver him into a more comfortable position. He rejected that and removed himself from Tenna altogether.
“I don’t know–I–why I–”
Spamton’s hands rose to cover his face. He was still trying to fight the tears, resulting in a mix of his laughter being choked by his breath hitching. Tenna watched dolefully. As much as he’d wanted to grab him, he knew Spamton, and he knew he would only fight to get away. He had to let this run its course. It was alarming to watch; Spamton, a man who showed so little sadness, breaking down into a weeping mess for seemingly no reason? It was very much out of character.
“I was invited to live in the Queen’s mansion.”
His antennas perked at the comment.
“Spamton, that’s amazing. That’s a huge honor.”
A laugh followed that comment, one consumed by the constricting of his throat.
“Every weekend–the Addisons–we all get together and–drink. And share stories. I told them about the move and–”
He fell silent. He took the time to suck in a deep breath and pressed his palms into his eyes.
“Haha–so much for brotherly love, huh! They’re just so– jealous –of me and my success.” He tried to laugh, but with the way his breathing hitched, it resulted in a cough. “What kind of assholes tell their younger brother they don't want him around anymore because he’s successful ? Some fucking familial bond, right? And maybe their younger brother is even more of a jackass because he fucking waited for them ! And they never showed up! But they sure as hell showed up tonight when they knew he wouldn't be there!”
The bar. That was what he had seen. After however long a time committed to ditching him–to teaching him some sort of lesson, he caught them catching up together. Spamton lost what little control he had left. Sobs overtook him. His hands worked to try and wipe tears that were unending. His attention was grabbed when the soft glow of Tenna's screen enveloped him. He'd moved to sit on his legs in front of him, allowing him to wrap his arms around Spamton and pull him in.
Thin arms wrapped under Tenna's own, meanwhile Spamton buried his face into his shoulder. He sobbed violently; his shoulders shook, his breathing hitched. Tenna pressed a hand into the back of his head and Spamton's fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt.
He never spoke much about his personal life. Tenna knew he'd had brothers, and had been to his apartment multiple times, but most of it ended there. This rare display of vulnerability–Tenna had to stop thinking about it– them . He swore he was seeing fucking red.
“ Why ?” the word had been mumbled into the crook of his neck more times than he could count. This time, however, it was followed by: “How could they do this to me?”
“I'm so sorry, Spam. You didn't deserve that.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, it seemed the strength of his sobs lessened. His breathing continued to hitch, but after crying so hard, Tenna was hardly surprised. His fingers toyed with Spamton's hair, and he felt him shift under his hold.
“Ant?”
“Yea, Spam?”
“I'm going to throw up.”
It took a moment for Tenna to process before Spamton was slipping from his grasp and dashing to the bathroom. Tenna soon heard him retching. He followed behind him and once more crouched down on the tiled floor, allowing him to brush his hair out of his face.
Spamton groaned, his breathing still unsteady.
“You should just–ugh–go home.” he moaned before retching again; acid hit the water. “Ffuck–ruined a perfectly good night.”
“You didn't ruin the night.”
“Yes I did.” His reply lacked any true conviction as his head sunk further into the bowl.
He was an emotional wreck. Tenna had never seen him like this before and, for a moment, he hesitated because he didn't even know how to begin to approach this. He stood and left the bathroom, leaving Spamton in his burning shame.
The room was spinning but his stomach wasn't gurgling in the same way it had been. Confident he was done puking for the time being, he released the toilet and allowed himself to more or less topple over onto the floor. He shut his eyes and pushed the palms of his hands into them. Still spinning–ugh! He hadn't gotten this drunk since he was a shitty little down on his luck nobody. He knew better. And he knew better than to let his emotions dictate his actions.
“Hey, Spam, come on. Sit up.”
A strong hand guided him to sit upright. He wasn't done pawing at him, it seemed, because another one soon found itself around his wrist, pulling his own away from his face.
“Drink this, please. You need water.”
“Ugh.” Spinning .
Not in the mood to fight, he accepted the glass extended to him. It took everything in him not to frown at the unsteadiness of his hands. He brought it to his lips and sipped on it, praying it wouldn't lead to another bout of vomiting.
“I’m going to–bed.”
Tenna had extended a hand to help him up, but Spamton rejected it. Instead, he gripped the sink to pull himself upright and leaned against it to steady himself. He had, at the very least, continued sipping on his water as he stumbled back into the living area. After ditching the glass on the bar counter, Spamton began pulling off whatever he could manage–his tie, he stumbled over his pants. By the time he’d reached the sofa and crashed face first into the cushions, he was left with his shirt half buttoned, a pair of ankle high socks, and his boxers.
“Spamton–”
Not a single word of his response was audible considering he’d crumbled into the cushions. Tenna heaved a sigh.
“You can’t sleep like that.”
Thankfully, his head moved to the side to at least make him audible.
“Take the bed–room’s spinnin’.”
“I didn’t even just mean the couch, Spamton, I don’t want you asphyxiating in your sleep.”
Hah, with the ass he’d made of himself, maybe that wouldn’t be the worst outcome. Regardless, Tenna seemed to refuse his request as Spamton soon found himself hoisted in his arms. He hated being carried–he hated feeling small . Tenna seemed to struggle with the thought that Spamton didn’t, in fact, appreciate getting scooped up and thrown around outside of their bedroom shenanigans. And yet, he was too tired to argue at the moment. He allowed himself to be carried to his bed. Tenna sat him upright to remove his shirt. When he pulled away, Spamton closed his eyes and fell back into his pillow.
“No–Spam, not on your back.” This time, Spamton whined as Tenna rolled him over onto his side.
He hadn’t bothered to open his eyes, in fact, he kept them closed and tried to physically will himself into falling asleep.
The faster I fall asleep, the faster I’ll sober up and the room will stop spinning.
The words played on repeat in his head until a weight was felt at his side. He dared to crack an eye open when the light hit his face. Maybe he felt a little guilty. Tenna was far, far too large for his bed normally; after all, it wasn’t as if he needed all that much space, nor had he the money for it when he’d begun leasing. Not that a full bed was small, but with a man of Tenna’s size–
“Sorry.” It was a mumbled apology as Tenna shifted on his side of the bed, making himself comfortable.
“For what?” Tenna had echoed, meanwhile a hand had gently been placed against Spamton’s waist.
“Tiny bed.” Usually, it was Spamton maneuvering himself around Tenna on the few occasions he stayed in the city. He definitely could not achieve the same results in his current state.
“Spamton, it’s your bed. It fits you .”
“Still–tiny. ‘M gonna get a new one when I move.”
“Maybe you could get a brand deal; get one for free.”
That had gotten an amused puff of air from him, and it was enough to cause Tenna to smile in response. He reached out and once more brushed Spamton’s hair from his face.
“Goodnight, Spam. I hope you feel better in the morning.”
Spamton’s lips pulled together.
“Yea. Thanks. Goodnight.”
When Tenna awoke, he realized he had completely taken over the bed. The second thing he noticed was the smell of food wafting through the apartment. He sat himself upright and allowed himself to catch his bearings. Well, Spamton hadn’t choked in his sleep, at least. He supposed that was a win. He was, however, quickly reminded of the state he’d been in the night prior. He shifted to sit on the side of the bed, and a hand rubbed the back of his neck. He’d sobered up rather quickly the night before, however, he had neglected to notice how much he had drunk himself. The show would definitely be a treat that night. With a sigh, he pulled himself up, and began to pull on his clothes he had ditched on the floor the night prior.
Despite smelling it, he was still surprised to find Spamton cooking in the kitchen. Although he was large, Tenna’s steps were generally light. It allowed him to move behind Spamton and press a kiss to the top of his head.
“Morning.”
“Hey, mornin’, big shot. Coffee’s hot.”
Right. Back to business as usual.
“Hungover?” Tenna questioned, and Spamton squirmed a bit.
“Me? When do I get hangovers?”
“You’re drinking a Bloody Angel.”
Speaking of which, he stole the glass and took a gulp. Once finished, he grabbed his spatula and poked at the eggs on the stove.
“Yea, alright, maybe a little. Shouldn’t have mixed–why’d you let me do that?”
“Me?” Tenna guffawed, meanwhile he’d moved to make himself a cup of coffee. “Even if I had taken your card, you would’ve started bumming them off other people.” Spamton smirked to himself with that comment. It was far from a compliment, yet it seemed he decided to take it as one. Coffee in hand, Tenna had wandered over and sat himself at the bar. Spamton removed the eggs from the burner and scooped them onto two plates for them. He’d also grabbed toast from the toaster and threw a piece on either plate. Once satisfied, he wandered over to Tenna and handed him his plate.
“You straightened up.” It was an idle comment from Tenna as he poked at his eggs. Spamton scratched at the stubble on his face, meanwhile his gaze wandered off to the living area.
“Yea. It was a mess last night; obviously I wasn’t in my right mind when I brought you over. Not that it makes a difference, it’s going to be a mess when I start packing. Maybe I’ll be a little sentimental again–this is my first place, after all.” He smirked to himself as he ripped a piece of his toast off.
“I’m not calling you adorable again.” Tenna mused, sipping his coffee. He laughed as Spamton feigned hurt, however. “If you do need help, you know to ask, right? I don’t mind moving some boxes.” Especially considering it seemed he was now completely on his own.
As he would have assumed, Spamton’s shoulders rose and fell apathetically.
“Yea, sure. I’ll let you know.” Which meant he would, most likely, attempt to do everything on his own.
Once they had finished their plates, Tenna decided to ask the next question floating around in his head.
“Are you good to drive me home? Or should I take the train?”
Spamton bristled at the question. He didn’t care how hungover he was, he wasn’t making him walk–especially not after what he’d had to deal with the night prior.
“No, I’ll take you. Might be swerving a bit, but that just adds to the fun.” He’d retrieved both of their plates and, for the time being, they were tossed into the sink along with the other dirty dishes. “Let me grab a jacket, it was chilly last night–”
He hadn’t expected Tenna to approach him again, nor did he expect to be pulled into a hug. It was second nature for him to squirm, though he soon eased into it. With a defeated sigh, Spamton’s own arms wrapped around Tenna.
“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”
Spamton raised a hesitant brow. His shoulders rose and fell.
“People come and go.”
Tenna’s grip tightened.
“Right, but I’m not just anyone. And I’m here for the long run.”
He released another sigh, and his head tipped back.
“Yea, I get it.”
Tenna finally released him, though not without pressing a chaste kiss to the top of his head. As mentioned, Spamton grabbed a jacket, and headed back to grab his keys. A hand had been offered his way. With a slight flush, a smaller one slipped into it, and they headed towards the door.
“Honestly, Tens, if I ever go missing just tell them to call you. You’re like a damn blood hound.”
“Alright, I was trying to be sentimental.”
“Hey, it’s not a bad thing, you’re just–nevermind.”
Tenna bristled.
“Just what–what is that supposed to mean? Spamton?” He was ushered through the door, meanwhile it was locked behind them.
“Spamton? I’m what –”
Spamton raised their hands and placed a kiss on the back of Tenna’s.
“You’re like that, Tens. Don’t ever change.”
Although he flushed, Tenna released a soft puff of air. With all of his quirks, Spamton still seemed to keep him around–and the opposite was true as well. He gently squeezed his hand as they proceeded towards his car. They worked. This was working. Tenna wasn’t sure how they would continue navigating through these situations, but what he was sure of was that they had a lifetime to figure it out.