Work Text:
Battat– as Mike, that is– sat in Tenna’s bedroom, in a chair off to the side of his bed. In his hands he held a clipboard; paper and pen included. Tenna himself lay in the bed across from him, his hands clasped together across his chest, antennas swishing softly back and forth, in thought. Every so often, the man would start talking about something or other, and his job, Mike’s job, was to write it all down and offer his tailored assistance and advice on whatever the topic happened to be about.
It was supposed to be one of the TV’s routine therapy sessions. A once-a-week thing that they did together just to make sure Tenna was in a good enough headspace to continue his work. To sort out any problems that might have been plaguing him, before they accidentally made their way onto the screens.
That’s what it was supposed to be, anyway. A regular routine therapy appointment.
Unfortunately, for the entire session so far, Battat hadn’t processed a single word Tenna had spoken to him, not really. He was just too… preoccupied, that was all.
…
To put it in simple terms, he really had to use the restroom.
It was no short of embarrassing, honestly. The way he sat there, pretending to listen to Tenna’s rambling. The TV, no doubt pouring his heart out about the issues he was facing, all while he himself had his head in a far-off place, trying his best not to squirm too much in his chair. Trying his best to give little hums and nods where necessary to make Tenna think he was listening.
Trying his best to not…think about it. It would be fine, after all. Eventually the session would end, and he’d quickly run off to take care of his business before carrying on with the rest of the day. It wasn’t anything Mike couldn’t handle. He crossed a leg, bouncing it gently.
He peered down at the clipboard clutched in his hands, at the paper he was supposed to be taking notes on. There were a few short sentences, near the top, but said sentences soon devolved into only a few hastily scribbled-out words. There was no way he could keep writing with how shaky he felt, but he continued to mime the pen across the page in a poor imitation of penmanship. He had to at least make it look like he was writing. It was just so difficult to make himself focus.
He bit down on his lip. Battat was never so grateful for the fact that his Mike mask wore a permanent smile. It felt like he had broken out in a cold sweat. Maybe if he were lucky enough, he’d magically sweat out all the liquid in his body instead of…
Biting back a choked sound, he shivered.
He shouldn’t think about it.
He really shouldn’t think about it .
It honestly shouldn't have been as bad as it currently was. Unfortunately, a series of his own bad decisions had led him to this point. There was really nobody else to blame.
It started earlier in the day. He hadn’t slept the night before, but that wasn’t anything unusual. He would often spend countless nights getting invested– maybe a little too much so, actually– in his theories, but that was besides the point. It was his turn to be Mike, and he was tired.
So, he did what he always did- slammed back a big dark cup of coffee and called it a morning. If it had just ended there, maybe he would be feeling fine, right now. Maybe he wouldn’t be feeling like he was about to fucking piss himself all over his boss’s goddamn floor!
Battat sharply inhaled and shifted, arching his back and grinding his hips down as discreetly as possible into his seat. It was obscene. So unprofessional! He had never had to pee so bad in his entire life. And of course it had to be now. It had to be while he was on the job. He hoped Tenna hadn’t noticed anything weird.
He glanced up at the man to find that he was still laying back, staring up at the ceiling, his hands now waving around animatedly as he rambled. Battat let him talk.
After his morning routine, after getting his costume on and heading in to work, Tenna had requested his own coffee be made. As Battat left to go prepare it for him, however, he heard the man tack on a little, “Make sure you get one for yourself too, Mike! We’ve got a long and busy day ahead of us today!”
And- sure. Maybe he had already had a coffee earlier, but to be fair, he was still a bit sleepy from his all-nighter. It couldn’t hurt to have another. Not to mention, he couldn’t just… not listen. He was working, after all! So he made both drinks, returned to give Tenna his, and they chatted for a bit, sipping away at their respective cups before the day really sped into motion.
He noticed it then, a bit later. A little feeling. It was nothing serious, just the slight twinges of hey, maybe you should start planning for a bathroom break, soon.
But Tenna wasn’t joking when he mentioned the day would be busy. With all the work to be done and running around to do, there really wasn’t any time for him to slip away at all. Every attempt at doing so was met with a new request, a different distraction, something else to take care of. So he ignored the feeling.
It felt impossible to ignore now, though.
It was getting increasingly difficult for Battat to hide his incessant moving around. It was almost constant, now. He wiggled his legs up and down, his hands locked in a death grip on the clipboard he held. He had abandoned all attempts at making himself appear to be writing. He had no clue how Tenna hadn’t said anything about it yet. Maybe he had, and he’d missed it somehow. He wouldn’t be surprised.
“Mike, are you listening? You seem kind of…distracted today.”
There it was.
Battat jolted up immediately, clenching his thighs together at the action. It felt almost painful now, to hold it together. He didn’t know it was possible to feel so full. His head was swimming. He gave the man a shaky sounding laugh, “Hah! D-Distracted? Me? Of course not! You know I’m- ah- always there for you boss. I…always listening, this guy!” Inside his mask, he nervously smiled. It didn’t really matter, he supposed, that it looked more like a grimace.
Tenna sat up from his rested position and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet meeting with the floor. He didn’t say anything, but he stared across at the pseudo-microphone for a moment.
Battat knew he wasn’t convincing enough. His voice sounded too wobbly, and Mike was supposed to be anything but. He knew he was moving too much. Mike was energetic with his words, sure, but he was also calm, he’d never act like this. He would never.
“Mike…you’re trembling.”
He knew. Tenna totally knew. He was so fucked. Mike didn’t act this way. Mike wouldn’t do this. He wanted to cover his face in embarrassment, but he couldn’t let go of the clipboard. He leaned forward, pressing the thing down into his lap with both arms. Beads of sweat made their way down his face. The inside of his mask was growing damp with it, and his warm strangled breathing.
He had just needed to hold it together long enough for Tenna to have his therapy appointment, and he failed. He couldn’t even do it. He couldn’t manage it properly and now he knew. He-
…
He went stock-still.
A short stream of wetness suddenly escaped him. He felt it begin to soak immediately into the leggings he wore under his costume.
This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t. He was not pissing himself in front of Tenna.
He wouldn’t.
Clenching his thighs tighter, Battat abandoned all previous attempts at appearing in any way put-together. Hissing in a short breath, he hunched over on himself completely. The clipboard clattered to the floor as he reached down and gripped at his costume’s pant legs. He willed the stream to stop.
Mercifully, it did.
He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like if he were to inhale at all, his lungs would take up too much space in his abdomen, leaving no more room for all the liquid inside him, and he’d immediately lose it. He would just have to hold his breath forever then. No choice in the matter, anymore.
He was going to die, wasn’t he?
“Mike, I…”
Somehow, in the chaos, he didn’t notice Tenna making his way over to stand next to him. He felt a large hand fall onto his back.
“If you were in some kind of pain all this time, Mike, you should have told me,” he said, sincerity in his tone, “I wouldn’t have made you come in today…you know that, right?”
Holy shit.
The man continued, “I’m sure the place wouldn’t collapse without you for just one day, you know?” he laughed, “But…really. If there’s anything I could get for you, anything at all, um, let me know, okay? Painkillers? A heating pad maybe?”
There was no fucking way Tenna thought he was having period cramps right now. He had to be joking.
Battat was beginning to feel lightheaded. Nobody was supposed to hold their breath this long. Nobody was supposed to hold their piss this long either, his brain supplied unhelpfully.
He couldn’t hold it anymore.
He suddenly gasped for air, and in doing so, his bladder finally gave out. Letting out what sounded like a mix between a sigh and a moan at the feeling of relief, he slumped down onto the floor, forced to be an unwilling participant in his own personal nightmare.
The hissing noise of his body emptying itself resounded throughout the silent room. It took a moment due to the layers of his outfit, but the liquid soon saturated his bottom half, and began spilling out onto the floor instead.
Before he had even finished, all at once, the mortifying nature of his predicament slammed into him not unlike being run over by an oversized truck. He choked back a sob.
He saw Tenna step back a bit as the puddle underneath him grew, nearing his shoes.
Tenna had just watched him…he…this was his bedroom and…
He looked down, his face running hot with embarrassment. He continued to try and hold back tears, but it wasn’t working anymore. Nothing was working anymore. The hands in his lap formed into frustrated fists as he sniffled.
Briefly, Battat registered Tenna moving to kneel in front of him. He didn’t want to be faced with the reality of the situation. Not yet.
“Mike?”
Shaking his head, breath hitching, he closed his eyes. He was better than this, he knew he was.
“Mike, can you look at me for a second?”
Oh god. He didn’t want to. But he couldn’t just not listen.
He looked up at the larger man’s face– at his screen. Contrary to what he thought, he didn’t seem to look…mad? He just looked kind of…worried.
What?
Why wasn’t he mad?
Battat had just cut his therapy session short in order to piss all over the floor– his bedroom floor– like some kind of untrained animal. And he wasn’t…angry at him?
A small gentle smile appeared on the screen in front of him. “I’m not upset with you Mike,” Tenna began, “But…” he trailed off, face falling, “I just…I had no idea, you know? I wish you’d’ve said something sooner, I…”
He held his breath again.
“You don’t think I would’ve gotten mad at you for needing to use the bathroom, right?” he asked. It sounded more like a plea.
He did think that. He was worried that if he stopped a task to run off and take a quick break that Tenna would be upset. He couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have it in him to break the man’s heart with that kind of admission. He liked him too much.
“I…n…no, boss,” he weakly stammered, “I’d never think that about you, I swear. I just…got carried away, y’know? I ah…lost track ‘a time, that’s all.” It wasn’t technically a lie.
Tenna’s antennae seemed to drop a bit regardless. “I see…” he stated. After a second, he held out a large hand. “Whatever the reason was, Mike, I’m not mad, so…don’t think that, okay? Why don’t we go get you cleaned up, how’s that sound?”
He paused, feeling the now cold wetness around him continuing to soak into his clothes– into his costume.
Battat reached up and placed his hand into Tenna's, allowing himself to be pulled up out of the puddle.
“Sounds like a plan to me, Mr. Tenna.”