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"Places, everyone! Let's run through everything one last time before going live!"
The callout was quickly followed by the rumble of voices and the trills of brass instruments rising in volume again, people sliding to their stations. It was a sea of people, and most would end up lost in the current. All but Mr. "Ant" Tenna, who overlooked them from his much taller vantage point as they all filed around him without even a second glance. Those who spared a look would catch the thin line his lips were pressed into as his screen scanned over his staff, only stopping a few here or there to straighten a piece of clothing, or to direct a prop to its location. This was his element, thriving in this sort of organized chaos all at his control. This was his world, and things did not happen without his approval.
To an outsider, maybe there was reason to truly fear the boss Darkner. But to his staff - aside from the very real contractual threats - most of it was just his typical flair for the dramatics. Everyone in TV World knew what he expected and besides a few troublemakers, things rarely went wrong. Everyone was accounted for, nothing was malfunctioning and all that was left was to-
Tenna paused mid-step, not even acknowledging the Shadowguy who walked into the back of his legs with a surprised shrieking sax riff before scrambling away and around the tall Darkner, leaving him to whatever thoughts were suddenly on his mind. All that was on his mind now was checking off each slot of the schedule, but one was amiss-
The ad breaks.
It was then that Tenna came to realise that he'd not seen a single dark hair of that little mailman's head lurking in the crowds. And despite his short stature, it was hard to miss that telltale glow of the Addison as he walked through the chaos with the ease of someone used to navigating city streets. Which meant that everyone but Spamton was accounted for.
Sighing, Tenna reached out a hand to his side to stop a passing Zapper, leaning down to speak in a low voice, just loud enough to be heard over the other staff.
"Please go to Mister Spamton's room and collect him. Or, if not there, get in contact with him. Inform him that Tenna is not happy."
With a salute, the Zapper hopped away as quickly as they could and left Tenna with his arms crossed, turning his attention back to making his way to the stage for his first block. Even if Spamton was unaccounted for at this moment, as long as he turned up for his time slot then Tenna - and the crew - might make it through this day with minimal stress.
The show must go on, even if a few key players were missing.
The end of the current segment was quickly approaching. Tenna had kept up his bravado until now, but as things began to wind down for the hand-off he couldn’t help how his antenna twitched and turned, trying to see if he had somehow missed Spamton slipping in behind the cameras, apology on his tongue behind that confident grin of a man who knew Tenna couldn’t stay mad at him for long.
Just as he neared the final sign-off, the murmurs of disgruntled staff as they moved aside finally revealed Spamton, straightening his tie and sliding a hand through his hair to slick back any loose strands - except those stray hairs that refused to cooperate, like always - as he waved off a Shuttah who was attempting to intervene in his path to the stage. Tenna approached the second he saw the recording light turn off after his final farewell, seat hastily pushed back and distance closed in only a couple large strides. Spamton could do nothing but turn his attention to Tenna with a wide grin, eyes darting to the side briefly before looking up.
“Hey, there’s the star of the show! Great first segment, wish I could have caught more of it but-“
“You’re late, Spamton,” Tenna interrupted him with a frown.
Spamton's grin faltered for only a second before reaching out to give Tenna a slap on the arm. Maybe harder than intended, but still nothing that would hurt the larger Darkner.
"What's a little tardiness between co-hosts, ey? I still made it before my segment so let's not fret over the small stuff."
Tenna opened his mouth, ready to retort before a Pippins was calling out for Spamton to take his place on stage. He wasn't even able to look back at Spamton before the man was already past him, hopping up the steps and slipping that winning salesman smile on just before silence fell once more and he started the ad reads. Tenna just sighed and stood behind the cameras, deciding to oversee things just for a short time. It didn't take long before he was frowning at whatever he was seeing. Asking the weather hosts to pass a message on to Spamton when they swapped places, Tenna retreated to his own office to freshen up for the next segment. And to wait on Spamton.
He knew the rest of the ads would run smoothly - despite Spamton's penchant for cutting it close, he didn't mess around when it came to actually doing his job. As such, when Spamton knocked sharply before letting himself in, it wasn't a surprise to see him so soon. Nor was the way he sauntered in without a reply, like he didn't think he was in any sort of real trouble.
"Hey, Tens, Elnina said you wanted to see me-" Spamton paused as soon as the door clicked shut, spinning around to look at the back of the much taller Darkner across the room.
Tenna stood at his vanity - a ridiculously tall thing, like anything that was only made for him - head tilting this way and that with a frown, pausing only to gently swipe a cloth across any wayward smudges or pieces of dust that had found a home on the glass of his screen. Tenna attention was solely on this one task, so much so that it took Spamton coughing loudly into his fist to finally catch the CRT's attention with a start. He would just ignore the way his own throat bobbed as that intensely focused look was turned on himself - only for a moment - before Tenna brightened and his usual smile was back.
"Ah, there you are. Excellent, yes, we have something important to discuss before you get back in front of any camera." Tenna gave his appearance one final check in the mirror before stepping away and directing Spamton towards the couch.
Spamton hopped up with the ease of a man used to scaling the larger furniture pieces. Tenna went to follow behind, paused, then took a different path to his desk chair. Spamton's head followed, one brow raised as he struggled to not show how amused he really was.
"Oh, we're in the big boy chair today. Are we really escalating a little tardiness this high?" Tenna frowned, bezel warping to twist his screen into a fascimile of a furrowed brow. In turn, Spamton mirrored the expression and shrugged, arms up in surrender. "Alright, I'm sorry. I'd say it won't happen again but you know how it is."
"This isn't about your bad timekeeping, Spamton. Or... not entirely. This is tied into the other topic I want to bring up. Or maybe a suggestion?"
Tenna's screen flickered. Soon enough, Spamton was looking at a mirror image of himself on the stage barely a half hour ago`, effortlessly going through his lines for the camera Tenna had been so focused on watching.
There was silence.
"I... can't see what you're getting at. It looks great, Tens. I look great."
Unimpressed, Tenna rolled his head before approaching Spamton. Leaning down, head level with the other man, Tenna started tapping his screen.
"This right here is the problem." When treated to silence as a response, Tenna's tapping became more frantic as soon as the camera cut to a closeup as he hit the pause on the footage. "This! This face is why you're here."
"Well that's my face, Ant! I can't do anything about that!" Spamton defended.
"Oh don't be silly, of course there is!" Tenna leaned closer, one arm resting on the sofa cushions whilst the arm rest of the furniture blocked Spamton in from the other side. With his other free hand, he ran his thumb across the soft flesh under the smaller man's eye. "Like right here! If you would just turn up on time, we could get this touched up in makeup. You look like you're running on an hour's sleep and a prayer."
Eyes squinting at the sudden brightness of a screen that was too close - still paused on his face - Spamton almost forgot to react as he felt that large digit press dangerously close to his eye. If it were anyone else, they'd have lost a finger. But with Tenna, he was torn between trying to still snap at that finger or threaten to snap it off - despite the fact he was made of metal, he'd try. Whatever would get it out of his personal space faster. Then Tenna's screen flashed back to his usual face and now that look from earlier was focused only on Spamton, hand idly tracing a path lower to stop just below his lips.
Tenna tutted. "And really, you know how hot those stage lights can get. You need to hydrate more, and at least put something on these lips. Just five minutes, that's all I'm asking. You don't need much to look good on camera."
That finally pushed Spamton into action, reacting enough to huff and avert his gaze, shoving Tenna's hand away. It gave himself enough space to slide further back on the couch, putting more distance between them. To settle that dumb fluttering feeling.
"And what's the other option? You corner me and do it yourself? Control freak," Spamton joked. When he didn't get a response from Tenna and the room was suddenly darker, Spamton spared a glance in the TV Darkner's direction, only to feel his blood run cold. Unmoving, screen dark, Tenna stared down at him. Only when he had his undivided attention did Tenna let that grin split through the dark glass.
"If you're going to risk my studios standings, then I don't mind getting a little hands-on."
With one sweeping movement that left no time for Spamtom to even attempt to scramble out the way, a now much larger hand swept him into Tenna's other awaiting hand. It was only brief, and soon enough the solid surface of the tall vanity was below him, Tenna towering above. He opened a drawer on the table and started to rummage inside, his other hand hovering in case Spamton foolishly tried to jump or, worse, escape.
"You- You can't just go picking people up like that! It was a joke!" Spamton stood, stomping over to the edge of the table. Without even glancing over, Tenna gently nudged him back to the center of the table. Spamton saw his hands shifting to a rosier hue, retreating if only to shove them in his pockets and let his face settle back into its neutral pallor before Tenna looked back.
"You're the one who suggested this, joke or not. It'll only take a moment, we don't have time to do much," Tenna reassured him. True to his word, he had extracted only a couple things from the drawer and reached for Spamton. It was awkward with the height difference, but Tenna still found a way to take a firm but gentle grip of the smaller face, humming.
Spamton sneered. "What? You realising you're not some miracle worker?"
Tenna shot him an unimpressed look before tilting his head back further. "No just... hoping this will work! Haha, I'm only realising now how... white you are."
"Gee, thanks," Spamton replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
Huffing, Tenna went back to one-handedly opening something just out of Spamton's range of vision with his head held in place. "Not in a rude way. But I've picked up some things over the years, so I'm sure we can pull something off. Now hold still, I don't want to make a mess."
With no more warning, something cool was applied to the skin just below Spamton's eyes, chin held firm to avoid him flinching away at the temperature difference. Any comments he wanted to make fell silent as his eyes fell upon Tenna. He was frowning, screen warped in an expression of concentration, focused on carefully applying whatever with a brush much too small for his hands. Maybe it was seeing that attention on him - because of him, even if it was for some stupid reason - that Tenna didn't even seem aware of the thoughts going through Spamton's head, only frowning and mumbling about how it was hard to colour correct someone who couldn't stay the same colour, alerting Spamton that he must've started taking on that pale rose tint again.
With a defeated sigh, Spamton finally decided to close his eyes and accept his fate, relaxing into the hand and feeling the warmth in his cheeks dissipate. They'd already come this far, what point was there to fighting a little pampering. Tenna seemed pleased with it, anyway, assuring him he'd look great and definitely not like a clown. Spamton just grumbled, scrunching his face in displeasure before being quietly scolded for moving.
All too soon it was over. Tenna had finally let him go, satisfied with whatever he had done.
“Alright, take a look! I’d say I did a pretty good job, all things considered.”
Eyes opening slowly, Spamton squinted at the sudden bright light in his face before Tenna tutted, leaning away as he mumbled something about ruining it if he scrunched his face like that all the time.
But any snide comment he might have made fell flat as he turned to the mirror behind him.
It was clear Tenna had done very minimal touching up, but what he had done had made a world of difference. Those dark circles from his constant late nights and early starts may as well have been magicked away, and it left him looking more awake than he’d probably looked in years.
“Oh. Huh,” he muttered uselessly as he hovered a hand just below his eyes without touching, eyes flicking up to Tenna who had slid closer with that stupid smug grin on his face.
“So is it big shot approved?”
Tenna let his head be turned away with a chuckle before looking back at the pair in the mirror. Spamton was still looking over his reflection so when the other source of light behind him dimmed, his attention was drawn to the reflection of Tenna deep in thought once again.
“What is it? Are we running late?” Spamton finally drew his attention away from his mirror image and back to the real Tenna behind him.
“No, it’s just,” Tenna mumbled, head tilted in thought before once again those hands were back to holding Spamton’s face, examining every detail in a way that left the smaller man feeling uncomfortably seen, tolerated only barely because it was Tenna. “One small thing, we have time. Then I think we’re done.”
Spamton accepted his fate with much more grace this time, only because he'd seen what Tenna could do. He watched him dig into the drawer once more, this time retrieving a tube almost comically small for his current size, but the perfect size for the man in his grasp. This time his eyes were already closed, poised and ready for whatever product was coming next.
The hand still holding his face changed grip this time, thumb sliding across to gently coax his lips apart. Spamton made a small noise, a mixture of confusion and surprise. Peeking one eye open, suddenly his view was filled with Tenna closer than he had been ebfore, concentrating as the tube touched his lips and - oh, it was some kind of lip product, that made sense. But the way Tenna traced his lips, following behind with a soft swipe of the thumb when his too-large hands were a little inaccurate, felt much too intimate. Spamton was sure he could feel the heat rising as he tried to keep a straight face. With how serious Tenna looked, he probably didn't even realise how much he was invading his space, too focused on perfecting his current task.
The second Tenna's grip loosened, Spamton swung around to distract himself with examining his face in the mirror again, if only so he could look at himself instead of Tenna's expectant gaze. His first reaction was confusion, expecting to have seen some pop of colour, but all he could see was a slight shine to his lips.
Lips pressing together, Spamton tipped his head side to side with a noise of approval, embarassment forgotten if only briefly. The dry lips he had accepted, entirely caused by talking away on that warm stage with no pause, were almost entirely gone. All that was left was the lingering tackiness of the product and the shine. Subtle, but it'd probably make Tenna so much happier whenever they let the camera get too close.
"Maybe you do have a few good tips, Tens-" Spamton spoke up in an attempt to sound only mildly impressed, turning away from the mirror to face the TV once more. There he came nose to nose with Tenna, much closer than he was before.
"I'm so glad to hear that! But now that you know the benefits to looking camera ready, I hope you'll manage your time better. This has to become routine, after all, or you'll start looking inconsistent." Upon receiving no reponse, Tenna looked down his nose to his co-host. "Oh!"
Seeing those eyes staring back up at him, trying to look elsewhere but drawn back to the large screen filling most of his view, Tenna quickly realised how close he had gotten in his anticipation to capture every one of Spamton's reactions, leaving the man little room to move away with the mirror behind him. But neither found themselves willing to be the first to move - not until Tenna found everything bathed in his screen's light taking on a pinkish hue. An antenna twitching towards the mirror, Tenna moved quickly and turned his back to Spamton, one hand wrapped around the end of his nose.
"Anyway! We're due on stage soon - can't have you being late again!"
"Uh, yeah! Can't be late," Spamton choked out, standing up on the vanity and wiping invisible dust from his suit. Then the two fell into another awkward silence.
"...Tenna," Spamton prompted, catching the man's attention. "You kind of need to... put me down? On the floor?"
Tenna scrambled into action, offering a hand to Spamton to ferry him closer to the floor, then straighting up to adjust his own outfit once Spamton was safely grounded, hand going to slip something into an inner pocket. Maybe still a little warm now, but nothing a quick exit and a moment to breathe wouldn't fix.
"Well, I'll see you on the stage. Goodbye!" Tenna bid a quick farewell and left Spamton in the suddenly much dimmer dressing room. He quickly called from further down the hall, barely audible. "And don't be late!"
Watching him go, Spamton took to pressing his lips into a fine line once more, quietly appreciating the feeling. Sighing and tugging on his own collar, he gave himself a few more minutes to collect himself before stepping out and making his way to the stage himself.
The satisfied look Tenna gave from behind the camera during the ads later that day and how smug Spamton felt catching a glimpse of it, knowing it was about how good he looked on the screens, was something to unpack later.