Work Text:
The day hadn’t been too particularly demanding.. If subtracting the usual amount of Tenna neediness. If anything, things were going surprisingly smoothly. Tenna was in a great mood, personal work for Battat wasn’t piled up per usual. (Thanks to Jongler insisting they had the talking down about a day or so ago just so Battat could catch up on his non-Mike work).
So he had a surprisingly refreshing day topping off his usual duties, able to ignore Tenna running by desperately looking for Mike.. even though not handling things his way stressed him out meanwhile. He just knew Jongler and Pluey would fumble SOMETHING. Albeit the next day, their fill in seemed.. Acceptable. Completely fine to anyone else but Battat always found something to nitpick.
For now though, Pluey was out as Mike while Tenna went over show ideas in a rambling nonstop about what the kids were into these days. Which was simple for Pluey, just nod along or shake his head no.. or just.. Stare. Huh, how did Pluey handle motioning anything other than yes or no as Mike, Battat’s never paid that much attention beyond the guy looking happy or sad.
Battat gnawed on his pen, an obscenely gross amount of bite marks embedded into the poor thing. Occasionally, subconsciously due to habit, he’d have to make sure he wasn’t slobbering on it too much either. This was his favorite pen after all, used it everywhere. Notes, the Mike Board, time passing puzzles.
The only time he lost this specific pen, even as Mike he got snappy. Luckily found, just in the couch cushions of the Mike room they all kept. He recalls examining it for his teeth marks to know that his buddies weren’t lying when they said they must’ve found it.
Snatching it back, staring at it, then waving a hand dismissively at the two as he thanked them and went on almost like he wasn’t pissed off half the day over the damn thing being missing.
“...You.. uh… dat.. Taste good, boss?”
Battat was snapped out of his thoughts, turning to face Jongler who sat at the mini dining table they had dragged in, playing a game of solitaire by themself.
“Huh,” Battat hums, taking the pen out his mouth, right hand having held it up to do so as his left arm was crossed to hold onto his upper right arm. He was in the middle of working on staring at the board, re-reading all of his points and making sure they all connected correctly. What loose ends needed tied up, or what questions were left completely unanswered… where else had he not searched again-?
“Da’ pen..” Jongler says.
Battat redirected his eyes back to Jongler again, shit, his brain just went straight back to the damn thing.
Battat released the pen from his mouth and glanced at it briefly. “Ah, yeah. Pen.”
They both remained there for an uncomfortable amount of time just staring at each other.
“It’s gonna bust on ya one a’ these days.”
Battat slipped it into his back pocket before fully crossing his arms, “It’s lasted this long, it’s fine.”
“Not when yous have a mouth full a’ pen ink.”
Okay well, Jongler wasn’t wrong to share that concern, but Battat felt confident that wouldn’t happen to him so, shove it.
It wasn’t a cheap pen, one of those fancy hard exterior ones. Other than simply buying a new one, Battat would have no clue what to do at all when this one runs out of ink. (Most likely buy another, dismantle both and swap the ink over.)
“It’s not gonna break, it’s fine.”
“Why are ya chewin’ on it anyways? That hungry?”
“I’m not hungry, it’s fine.”
“Yous keep sayin’ dat… it’s fine…” Jongler points out, resting one hand over the other on the surface of the table.
“Cause it is!” Battat un-crosses his arms, motioning forward with open palms.
“....Go eat, boss.”
“What? I don’t need food, I had breakfast.”
“It’s after lunch time. Yous go eat right now.”
Damn, Jongler was getting serious with him.
Not that Jongler wasn’t already sort’ve a serious person, but because they were the strength of the three, the Zapper had a way of being intimidating. Especially when telling others what to do. Jongler wasn't bossy when they spoke, the tone always decided and smooth, knowing what they wanted to say even with the accent and speech quirks.
“I don’t eat lunch,” Battat states bluntly.
It felt obvious, if not a quick protein bar in the morning, he’d always have a TV Dinner later. Most days he did manage both breakfast and dinner, but he didn’t prefer having lunch. Maybe sometimes when he purposefully decided he didn’t want breakfast ahead of time, he’d prepare himself to just get something for mid-day. Meanwhile he always had some caffeine intake, never truly running on an empty stomach with fluids either. At least to him it was completely fine and normal.
“But yous coulds.”
Battat sighs, moving a hand to his forehead, “Jongler, buddy, I didn’t meal prep something to bring in. And I don’t want to waste points on the vending slop that I'll just eat again later.”
“Boss, you’s low on points?”
“Of course not! I don’t sprinkle my points around like that! Just- the food here is so repetitive, most of it isn’t even good! Just focused on having Tenna’s face on it!”
“Can yous at least gets something? Eat anything? One thing?”
Jongler raised a hand, motioning in a circle ever so slightly as they spoke. It was out of concern, they’d rather their pal step out for a minute to get some food, eat and take a damn break from worrying his pen to death by staring at this forsaken board.
“Okay okay, I'll find something- if that's what you're worried about I'll just find something small.” Battat says, moving to walk out already. He wasn't one to wait around once something was decided anyways.
“Good. Eats up, and if I finds out yous didn't eat, I'll make sure you are eatin’s every day from nows on.’
“Yeah yeah,” Battat took it half heartedly, uncaring to glance back. Jongler probably wasn't that dedicated but the Zapper made small ‘deals’ like that anyways. Ultimately Battat would listen to whatever the subject was, not particularly wanting to upset them, especially when most of the requests were rather simple.
Battat closed the Mike door behind him, reaching into his inner poncho where some hidden pockets were, just swiping out a personal notepad he carried on him. All Pippins had inner pockets on their clothes. Probably how so many got away with cheating or sneaking things around, certainly how Battat used them aside from carrying around personal belongings.
Carrying on, he flipped through his notes on important upcoming scheduled events. Whether it was something with Tenna as Mike or their Mike meeting to catch each other up having been moved. Shock therapy… doubled with an antennae massage, alright damn. Yeah, guess he did remember Tenna requesting a two in one sitting, simple enough.
___
Squinting at the vending machine, slop really was the most affordable option at this rate.
“Tenna’s inflating prices again, are we serious?” Mumbling to himself mainly as he tried to remember just how many points he did have left over from the last time he was paid. Probably about two hundred.. Better assume he has less… Chips’ll have to do. Just that chips were sold in a different vending machine- Fucking dammit Tenna, Battat Mike literally told him to stop wasting funding on these things and spreading them around. It was a waste of time and points.
Until it was a coffee machine he saw on the way there. That he didn’t hesitate to spend the points, getting a cup as he didn’t even bother paying the attentional fees for creamer or sugar. Just straight coffee was fine, help carry him through the second half of the day. Take a nice long sip and continue on to get his chips and retreat back to the Mike room, that was the plan.
Walking into one of the break rooms, two other Pippins were standing near the doorway chatting. He didn’t talk to other Pippins as much, mostly due to the fact that he felt none of them really liked him, or that he was extremely excluded whenever around enough of them at once. Especially when he was picked on for doing the job he’s supposed to do- they all just slack and do nothing but trade their points around, it wasn't his fault he actually cared about if he got fired! Sides, his Mike job was more important than gambling or accepting drink invitations.
Just a glance towards where the vending machine here and Battat could see the counter had all sorts of snacks brought in and left behind. Guess someone arranged something for lunch? Battat certainly missed out on it, mostly due to not talking to anyone else or brushing everyone off if they spoke to him while busy. It wouldn't hurt to take a look, right? It was obvious the various containers or bags were set to be shared, and anything is better than TV Dinner every day multiple times a day.
What mainly caught Battat’s eye though was the half open container of brownies shoved against the back wall. Sure, some pieces had been cut out and taken but more than two three fourths of the brownies remained, but compared to the rest that was well eaten… maybe the brownies were just bad or overdone. Hey, free baked goods though. Battat could handle a little more chew, or just spit them out if it tasted so bad
Figuring, ‘why not’ he moved the lid open more, finding a disposable knife left inside to help cut out a piece. He got a decent size, just roughly about three by three inches worth. Not making much of a dent into the rest but enough to have more than one test bite if he liked it. Unbothered to grab a napkin with his chunk, he didn't care about just carrying around a piece bare handed. Setting the lid back on, he closed the container properly so they wouldn't go stale. The rest of the food… yeah he couldn't give a shit less. He'll buy his chips and go.
He paid for the chips he wanted, taking a bite of the brownie while he listened to the machine do its work to drop the bag down.
Okay.
Battat could see where these weren't too popular. You could taste the brownie, yeah, even clear chocolate chips had been thrown in to make the taste a little sweeter, but there was something.. off? Hard to exactly describe the flavor. But it wasn't gag-worthy, he could chew and swallow just fine without feeling weird about it. Maybe someone just messed up the recipe a little, he couldn't judge. He doesn't cook or bake at all.
He heard the chips drop down, then paused to realize he didn't have enough hands for this. Left with the coffee, right with the brownie- okay fuck. Battat placed the brownie in his mouth to grab the chips out, then stuffed the bag under an arm to grab the brownie again, taking another bite as he retrieved it. Yeah cool, should be fine. Jongler better not complain about his choice either. He found something to consume, better than none. Beggars can't be choosers…
Despite Battat literally nitpicking exactly what he was going to eat.
Battat turned to head back out, nearly finishing his chunk already when one of the two other Pippin's in the room stopped to talk to him.
“Hey, Greenie! How's it going?”
An innocent enough question, despite the fact that both of them shared the same shit eating grin, staring him down.
Battat started back, not catching onto whatever the fuck singular braincell they seemed to share. “.....Huh.”
The other spoke up, “You’re getting a piece? Kinda still early to be getting some… but if you're like the others, get it!” Followed by the two of them giggling.
What the fuck were these two on about.
“Oh, you should join us! We're about to head to the Green Room and play some games while we're off! Come on, it'll be fun! Barely anyone gets to see you anymore!”
“Yeah, we won't even wager anything. Just friendly fire.”
Battat ate as he listened to the both of them ramble on, choosing to ignore everything they just said. “Genuinely, what are both of you talking about.”
“Sit with us a bit? Plllleeeaaaassseee?” The first clasped their hands together in a begging motion.
Battat didn't have time for these mind games, nor did he want to be dragged into anything. Battat already spends his points on dumb shit, he can't find something else to look forward to about pay day now.
“What-” He suppressed an annoyed groan. “What could it possibly be?”
“Just sit with us! You know, we're going to be getting another shipment soon…” The first continued on humming with a ‘I know what you are,’ in their voice.
Fuck his stupid chud life. Every one of them knew he spent whole checks or more on this shit.
Battat shifted, brushing crumbs from his hand onto his leg (gross freak) before retrieving his phone out to look like he had something important to check on, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth.
“No thanks.”
The other began to complain, “Come on, you send in what you want but never hang out with anyone.”
“At least I send in the points for my part, that's all I want. I’ll watch the chats, thanks.” Battat wrapped up the conversation, continuing to walk out the room as he no longer wished to just stand around. Ignoring any other attempts the two had to keep talking.
Strange interaction, but it's fine. He didn't stop to overthink anything about his fellow die, fundamentally every one of them all had the same desires. Just that Battat handled his own in different ways than what Pippin's were known for.
___
Battat pulled on the Mike suit, straightening out any awkward folds, picking at the gloves in between his fingers. It wasn’t remotely comfortable but you gotta do what you gotta do.
“Hey, day’s mostly over by nows, yeah? Dat’s tha’ good part.” Jongler stood nearby, up since Pluey greeted them each with a hug upon returning for switch off. (Battat tolerates them, he doesn’t let it last a second or two longer before shoving Pluey off some days, no!)
“Your days are always stupid easy, don’t even.” Battat snaps, a bit out of nowhere but all the same common with him.
“Just bein’ positive, boss.” The Zapper simply hums in response, paying no mind to Battat’s attitude.
Battat sighs, aware Jongler only meant well, but this dude’s day job was literally guard duty, and heavens above, barely anything truly needed guarded other than Tenna’s bonus zone.
“Yeah. Just- Here I am again, and it’s my turn to read Tenna’s stupid bedtime story tonight later too.” Battat steps over Pluey—still in his own Mike suit, literally laying on the ground for whatever reason— to grab his own Mike head piece and head out.
“We’s can always fill in, it’d be okay boss.” Jongler responds.
Pluey nods in agreement, turning from his side to lay flat on his back.
Grown ass man.
“No- no, it’s fine. We’ll see what mood Tenna’s in after this upcoming show and go from there.” Battat pulls the Mike head over his own before pointing at the two. “I’ll be back.”
___
Tenna paced the stage. Airtime just ended, and immediately he was spiraling, Mike barely having even just ran up after waiting on standby only for a couple minutes.
“No, no, NO! Mike! You don't understand! The only reason they stayed is because of Toriel!” Tenna paced the stage. Airtime just ended, and immediately he was spiraling.
Mike stood, watching Tenna pace past one way then the other. “Tenna, c’mon! They still loved it! They're just kids excited to go play! Y’know them the best, y’know how those two are!”
“No Mike!”
Tenna whipped around, screen black as he leaned over enough to grip Mike's shoulders desperately.
“They wanted to go to that forsaken computer Asriel has in his room now! Toriel said they can only eat downstairs so that's why they stayed! They didn't want to watch!”
“Tenna..” Mike starts carefully, hands over Tenna’s to ease him. “The ratings were still great. Shows that they enjoyed it, so it's all good! All fine and dandy! Worked out, yeah?”
Tenna’s hold only tightened upon Mike's touch.
Mike sighs. “Tenna, you've never failed to make them all happy. You ease their days, remind them what makes TV so great! You saw it, they stayed even after eating just to finish the show! If that isn't good TV, I don't know what is, eh?”
“..They.. did finish the segment, yes..” Tenna trailed off, shoulders lowering.
“See then, Tenna! Nothing lost at all! In fact, you proved just how much better you are than whatever the other option was! See? Barely even remember it. You're far more worth it!”
It took a moment, but gradually Tenna lit back to his usual self, confidence growing.
“...Yes.. Yes, I am! Oh Mike you always pay attention to the details!”
“That’s who I am! It's what I do! C’mon big guy, since when do I not? Hm? Gotta keep you in line one way or another. How about an after show extra antenna massage, you'll still get the other one too, this one's just to help you relax before the evening airtime. Mike’s got everything handled for ya!”
Tenna laughs, releasing Mike as he stands up straight, hands resting on his own hips pridefully. “You know! Wouldn't hurt! Speaking of, I have a perfect pitch for the next show! Not to get my own hopes up, but maybe if I sneak in a few underlying messages…”
Tenna continued on, the pair having finally stepped offstage and through the studio doors.
Floors must’ve been cleaned recently, fully cleaned. Mopped and all rather than just swept through, the tiles practically shining. Thank god not every hall had carpet. Under it all was the original wooden flooring or tiles they kept extra nice in Tenna’s Green Room.
Tenna’s Green Room. For a studio that has a lot of Red, why’d he choose green exactly? Does he like green from time to time? Green is a rather nice color if Battat could say so himself.
“Just thinking of all the points put into that set makes my head spin!”
They stopped walking, Tenna searching his pockets for the key to his office.
Tenna’s office? What, did they sprint down the hall, they couldn’t have gotten here so fast.
“If I could get a reason to even play some classic reruns I would! None of them liked the show as much as Asgore!”
“Uh huh-”
Battat felt himself rub the side of his neck, turning to glance around while waiting for Tenna to unlock the door.
His vision wavered, completely out of time from when he turned his head.
That doesn’t feel right.
Battat felt himself frown, turning his body to continue looking around the hall, eyes squinting as if it would change anything.
Same thing again, if anything giving him a sense of vertigo.
This and starting to get lightheaded, he placed a hand against the wall to steady himself, as if the ground could give out any moment.
“You’re such a good pal Mike, and these massages you started up recently, really!” Tenna pushed the door open, looking over before tilting his head. “Mike?”
His mouth turned dry, standing there before turning to look up at his boss.
Okay, not even a metaphor, his mouth literally felt like he suddenly wasn’t producing saliva.
“I, uh- I’ll be right back- just remembered something- something important-”
Barely wasting any time to walk past Tenna standing there outside the office. If Tenna said something, he missed it.
Every step felt wrong, absolutely no clue if he looked normal at all. Battat intended to make a swift exit to text his coworkers for a switch out, his first thoughts being he didn’t drink enough water or eat soon enough. But fuck- he felt so slow with everything he did.
Yeah, he ate breakfast right? When was that? No… he planned to have dinner though, yeah, that’s right.
Some sort of music filtered into his senses slowly, starting distant but quickly growing in volume.
Battat didn’t even know exactly how far he went, at some point he leaned against the hall with a hand as he tried to focus on just where he was… Near Tenna’s office… There were a few changing rooms… Could lock himself in one..
His eyes focused enough to recognize one after staring at it too long to properly register as quick as he normally would.
Tumbling inside, he closed the door and damn near immediately went down. Consciously trying to remind himself to breathe, while his body wanted to gasp for air.
Sitting- no, laying. He was choosing to lay down now. Laying down felt right. Laying on his side, Mike head still on while his vision gradually caught up, repeating enough times to make him close his eyes.
That awful sound was still blaring, echoing in his ear drums. Nausea washing across him, hands reaching up to rip the head off in case he did vomit. Then finally reaching for his phone while he had some sort of movement already in motion.
[emergcu mike witch atg tenanofice]
He didn’t really read whatever he typed, just knew his fingers tumbled across the correct letters and hit send. It shouldn’t matter much anyways, he’s sent texts without looking at the screen and all the same they’re able to decipher what he means to say.
It was barely any time at all before his phone buzzed back to back. Lifting his head slightly to read the response, squinting once more before the screen changed, getting a phone call instead from Jongler.
He wanted to be mad, switch outs didn’t require calls to confirm, but another part of him felt like he needed someone might as well answer the call. Hitting accept, he didn’t get even one word out.
“Everythin’ alright? Yous okay?” Shuffling on the other end, a sign at least Jongler was getting ready. No doubt Pluey was probably right there listening to the call, or maybe that was him in the background moving about.
“Boss.”
Jongler’s voice came through the receiver much more pressing than before.
Another wave of nausea rolled over him. Setting the phone on the floor next to him so his hand can cover his mouth, closing his eyes once more.
“I’m- No I’m fine-” Battat manages.
Battat catches himself back pedalling his own words, panic setting in as nothing felt fine at all.
Oh god.
Is he dying?
Why is it this scary.
This isn’t even a heart attack-
Is this a heart attack?
His chest is pounding- now that he even focused on that sensation- Oh his heart is giving out isn’t it, something went wrong and it’s working overtime.
What he realizes now being his blood pressure is still as loud as ever.
He’s dying, this is it.
Worst of all, his body is going to be found wearing the Mike suit on the floor.
“If yous don’t start answerin’ me right now, again, where are ya?”
Again?
“I just need a drink-”
Battat forces his voice out, catching the waver.
“Batts.”
Batatt snaps right back at them, “Some changing room- I don’t know.”
Some of the sick feeling died down, making him focus on just how awful his mouth felt, hand shifting as he stuck his tongue out and poked at it, a strange ….rubbery feeling if that’s the word he’d choose to describe it. Unsure what to make of it all other than he wanted everything to stop.
“Okay, good, and by da text yous still near…. Tenna’s…. Office? We’s gonna come check up on ya first.”
“No just switch out- Tenna’s waiting,” Battat made an honest attempt to force his words. To his coworkers though? Yeah, it wasn’t sliding,coming out partially mumbly with an evident shake. Mostly due to how much he was fighting to not vomit though.
“Yous just don’t sound too right.”
Battat started pushing himself to sit up, hands shaking as he leaned against one of the shelves, keeping his eyes closed to avoid possibly getting more motion sick.
Maybe they’ll find his body, continue on the Mike board in his honor, toss Battat maybe out in the snow for hiding purposes. Would hate for them to be arrested for something they didn’t do. Or just hide the Mike stuff and report a dead body. Whatever works.
Jongler kept talking, saying… Well, whatever it was, Battat was too focused on staying sitting upright, maybe trying not to look absolutely pathetic.
Battat swallowed, re-opening his eyes to look around himself, an attempt to re-collect himself.
Stop thinking so irrationally, he couldn’t be dying. This was just… a combination of issues this time maybe. He didn’t eat on time…. Only had coffee… didn’t really sleep… yeah, his body was just punishing him, stop acting so stupid.
Only moving again when the door opened, Pluey standing there, the two staring at one another for a hot second before Pluey turned, whistled into the hall before stepping inside and crouching down by Battat to assess him.
“Pluey- seriously,” Battat started, only to cut himself off by bringing his still unsteady hand across his mouth. He felt like he could start gagging any second now, something he most definitely did not want to do.
Pluey began to sign something, Battat squinting before quickly closing his eyes. The movement was too quick to comprehend properly right now.
Jongler seemed to enter, another pair of hands from his other side grabbing onto his shoulders. “What’s happenin-’” Definitely Jongler.
Battat shook his head, which he immediately regretted from how much worse that movement felt.
“Don’t- don’t shuts down on us, come on, yous can tell us, don’t stop talkin..’”
Jongler’s grip was firm, grounding… But Battat couldn’t help it. He already had an awful habit of saying things without thinking, especially when he felt enough stress.
“I’m dying-” He spat the words out, heavy and clear he was freaking himself out.
“..Dying...” Jongler repeated back, pausing as they looked over at Pluey who kept their hands to themselves.
Pluey glanced back at Jongler, but mainly was keeping his gaze on Battat… Well, those words weren’t reassuring about anything at all.
Neither of them had seen Battat this bad. Sure, they knew he had a tendency to eat horridly and stay up late, overwork himself too but… hell, how it was possible for the guy to get impossibly paler, and now so.. Nervous…? Scared?
Pluey slowly reached out, checking Battat’s health.
‘It's full.’ Pluey signed to Jongler, confused as to what’s happening. Battat certainly wasn’t dying as he claimed.
Jongler frowns, nodding some before looking back to Battat.
“Yous ain’t dyin’ Batts. Listen to me, we’s ain’t lettin’ dat happen. Come on, let’s get da’ Mike costume off an’ get ya back to the room.”
Battat stayed as still as he could, shaking his head again.
Pluey sighs, now reaching over to nudge Jongler’s hands off so he could take the jacket part of the Mike suit off from Battat himself.
Battat didn’t stop him, breathing slow and deep, every now and then a breath could catch. Although he refused to move his arms when Pluey went to help tug the sleeves off, hand glued across his mouth, the other flat against the floor.
“...Boss, ease up, it’s just us..”
“..M’ gonna throw up-” Battat replies quietly, opening his eyes finally to look at them both.
God, they both looked so worried. Nearly lost on what to do with him at all. Hell, neither of them were even dressed as Mike.
Pluey frowns as he leans closer, looking Battat in the eyes.
Battat leaned his face away when Pluey came closer. “Wwhat-”
Pluey didn’t sign a response, just.. Observing Battat.
Jongler sighs, standing back up properly and looking around. “Here.” He moved across the room, picking up a side trashcan kept by one of the vanities. “We’ll help yous back, and bring this in case.”
“Tenna-”
“Tenna can wait.”
He couldn’t understand. He messaged for a switch out. Tenna was literally waiting, yet Jongler called for whatever reason, and now here they both were… what, babying him?
Pluey got up as well, holding out both hands for Battat to help him up carefully.
Despite the offer, Battat only turned to get up by himself, swaying on his feet as he looked at the Mike head left on the ground, then at the door, and finally back at his coworkers.
Pluey sighs, hands still out stretched in case Battat might accept while Jongler stood by him holding one of those small empty metal bins out.
“Yous still wearing the Mike costume, Batts.” Jongler gently reminded him.
Battat looked back down at himself, mind reeling in trying to even make himself focus better than this.
Movement made him look back up, Pluey taking off his coat and grabbing Battat’s arms to make him put it on.
“...Covers da Mike stuff… Good till we get there.” Jongler comments.
Battat couldn’t complain, he’s said little to nothing about this entire situation at this rate, at least this time he let Pluey move him more than before.
Next Pluey at least went to grab the Mike head and hide it somewhere in the room to grab when safe after hours.
Jongler reached to open the door for them to start leaving, Battat stepping forward before gagging and covering his mouth with both hands.
“Here, here, it’s okay,” Jongler immediately turned back to hand over the bin for Battat.
Needless to say, Battat found himself back on the ground, clutching the waste bin like his life depended on it, stomach emptying itself out. Several minutes later he was still dry heaving, tears having made their own way out, making him an absolute mess.
If it wasn’t for Pluey’s hand on his back the whole time, he’d probably be cussing himself out. But all his focus at this rate went to vomiting and Pluey’s touch that they were still there with him.
Pluey checked his health again after, shrugging to Jongler and signaling that Battat’s health was still clearly full and that he didn’t need any healing.
The two waited a few extra minutes even after Battat finished up, just now releasing the garbage can so he could rub down his face starting with his eyes.
“...Do ya’ need carried?” Jongler spoke up first softly, laced heavy with care.
Care that Battat couldn’t wrap his head around.
Care that only seemed to add into everything hurting.
Battat ended up tilting his face down further, keeping one hand over his face while the other moved off to brace himself against the ground… And immediately give up before he even tried to stand again. He threw up, yeah, but that doesn’t mean his symptoms got any better. If the ground could just swallow him already rather than spinning that’d be great.
“Okay,” Jongler sighs, reaching down and grabbing under Battat’s armpits. “Come on.”
They lifted Battat with no trouble at all, grabbing the bin to bring with in case Battat needed to vomit again, and to generally not leave that mess behind. A little awkward, but they made sure to keep an arm under Battat and hold the bin with that hand, other arm around to keep him supported and secure.
‘Should I get anything?’ Pluey quickly signs as he stands back up as well.
“I got ‘em, we’ll figure this out buddy, don’t worry.”
Finally, they left, glancing around the hall before heading out and towards the Mike room.
Battat only moved his head down, eyes closed again from the movement. Mentally apologizing to them over and over, too ashamed that he let himself panic so bad that it only fed into the nausea he already had and ended up getting sick. At the same time, he couldn’t care about being carried. If he really wasn’t dying, he sure as hell felt like death.
___
They took an alternate path in hopes to not really run into anyone or get weird looks, but it wasn’t really their concern what others thought either. At the very least, avoid seeing how pathetic Tenna might look waiting for Mike to return, if he wasn't already at the next show.
Pluey watched Battat nearly every step of the way, wishing either of them could understand what happened to make Battat get so unwell when last they saw he was completely normal.
And if convenience couldn’t get better, the three were passing by a certain pair of Pippins when Pluey caught part of their conversation, whispering to one another as they were not at all hiding that they were staring whilst just standing around.
“Oh wow, must’ve hit him hard.”
“Shit… A Zapper’s literally carrying him.. Should probably get rid of the rest so we don’t get in trouble.”
Could’ve been that Pluey was a cat shadowguy, hearing their conversation better, but he stopped walking within an instant, turned, and went straight to the pair. Snapping his fingers to get their attention, then motioning over where Jongler stopped while holding Battat, who was confused when Pluey suddenly split off.
Both Pippins stared at him, promptly stopping their conversation.
“...Hm?”
One tried to play dumb.
Pluey repeated his motion, annoyed.
“Oh,” the other just shrugs. “Uh, that sucks.. He finally snap or something?”
“Pluey-” Jongler starts, just wanting them to get back to the Mike room.
Pluey wasn’t taking it though. These two knew something they didn’t, and now they were hiding it.
Pluey didn’t have to think twice before grabbing one by the front of their poncho, pulling them in real close and personal.
“Woah woah! Chill!” The Pippins grabbed back onto Pluey, their fingers digging into his wrist.
“Pluey!” If Jongler’s tone didn’t turn his name into a slur, what would you even say to describe the way they spoke just then.
The free Pippins was the one to actually speak up first. “He took a piece of the baked eddies someone brought in! We saw him, and thought he knew about it!”
‘Explain.’ Pluey signed with just one hand.
“What else is there?! He bought some chips and took some of the goods from the counter where others brought the stuff in! We didn’t do anything!” The one Pluey was holding onto continued.
The other nods along. “Yeah, someone else brought it in and has been sharing!”
‘What is it.’
“Weed, just that and only that. Greenie over there will be fine, swear on it.”
“Greenies greening..” The other mumbles, making both of them begin to snicker despite the situation.
Their lack of seriousness was really beginning to piss Pluey off in a way he hadn’t felt before. His friend was sick, these two knew why, and were now laughing about it.
Jongler yanked Pluey back roughly, “Yous done.” An order.
Pluey’s expression hardened at the pair, even despite his eyes not being visible. Complying as he released the Pippins, turned and continued walking. Only looking back over at how Battat was holding up.
The initial text itself didn’t seem odd. Not to Pluey at least. There had been plenty of times Battat’s sent texts multitasking and not bothering to spell anything correct. At times either of them have had to text back and ask for Battat to repeat so they could even understand the message.
Just this time, Jongler said he was calling to double check. Pluey didn’t get why, but after even hearing Battat’s mumbly voice over speaker phone, then not responding at all a few times when Jongler asked about him, Pluey figured Jongler had one hell of an intuition.
Getting there and seeing Battat in person was even worse. Just how badly Battat was trying to hold himself together sitting on the ground.
If anything, he expected Battat to fight the help more, but it seemed the guy had started going nonverbal at the same time.
The way he watched Battat curl further into himself when they both entered the room. How Battat’s face contorted when he said he was dying.
But now more of this made sense, how unwell Battat was, how he most likely didn’t even know since the two said someone else brought the food in. Pluey previously assumed maybe the red of his eyes was from crying…
But this…. They could handle this. Get Battat somewhere comfortable, convince him he’s safe, what happened and that it’s okay.
Pluey’s been around with other shadowguy’s who’ve smoked, so he had a sense of what to expect… not for Battat, but maybe how to help. Everyone else he’s seen made it seem fun, but Battat made it seem miserable to experience at all.
“Just what the hell were ya thinkin’ Plues.”
Pluey shifted his gaze from Battat hiding his face, back to Jongler who stared ahead as they walked.
‘They knew something.’
“Yous started gettin’ physical.”
‘I was only scaring them-’
Jongler looked the opposite way when Pluey continued to sign, which only pissed Pluey off.
“An’ if anyone else saw? Yous would’ve been in trouble for inciting somethin’ and….” Jongler spoke over Pluey whilst looking away.
Pluey walked ahead to sign directly in front as they walked.
‘I found out what it is. Now we know what to do. What are they going to do, report me.’
Jongler didn’t reply for a moment. They knew each of them were tense, worried sick, and trying to just get answers.
“...We still haveta’ report somethin’ about it ourselves. This ain’t right… bringing dat kinda stuff into work…”
Pluey didn’t have anything to comment about that, falling back to walk alongside Jongler again.
___
Battat was placed down gently onto a couch the trio had dragged into the Mike room some whatever months ago. Puke-can on the ground within reach as well. The waves of nausea didn’t quite stop. Every now and then small waves where it got worse but not to where Battat would vomit again.
And high? He was high?
He obviously heard what happened in the hall, trying to wrap his mind around everything whilst being far too aware of how he felt physically.
It was bad enough that this happened at all.
Leaving Tenna like that out of nowhere for, honestly what he thinks isn’t even mostly a valid reason. Mike wouldn’t get into this situation, Mike wouldn’t abandon Tenna like that! Jongler and Pluey checking on him on their own accord.
Of course he was shitty physically, but them coming to see him when he already felt so sick just felt horrible as well. Even with everything going on, deep consciously he couldn’t look at them.
Now that interaction in the hallway?
“Here ya go… feelin’ okay..?” Jongler didn't let go right away, only slowly taking their hands off.
“...Have Pluey shoot me or something.”
The two watched as Battat shifted sideways, left side against the back of the couch. Shaking his head as he kept his eyes closed even now.
Pluey glanced at Jongler with a ‘what the hell do we do’ and ‘he's talking crazy again’ look.
“Yous back in Mike’s area.. Safe and sound.” Jongler tried carefully, not quite sure how to respond to what Battat said.
There was a long pause, at least until Pluey decided to take initiative. Sitting on the side of the couch Battat faced, getting his attention to sign slowly.
Before he could even get very far, Battat grabbed Pluey’s hands, shaking his head.
“Don’t- don’t..”
Pluey paused, turning his hands to hold back onto Battat’s, interlocking their fingers. ‘I’m here’ is what he wanted to say.
Battat was fighting what to say, discerning what was the most appropriate thing to say at the moment. Sitting in silence to continue to take in everything at once was more ideal, but Pluey’s signing was dizzying enough.
“I just… I can’t right now.” Battat settled with that, it got the point across.
Pluey frowns, watching Battat closely.
The remaining tremble in Battat’s hands wouldn't be evident if not through touch.
So, Pluey did the next thing he knew.
He switched to holding only one of Battat’s wrists, then traced against his palm, pausing between each letter seconds at a time.
‘S’ ‘L’ ‘E’ ‘E’ ‘P’
This, Battat wrapped his head around easier than forcing his brain to focus his eyes on Pluey’s hands and what he would sign. Sleeping right now though, he couldn’t just possibly do that- Hell, it’s been hours since Mike left Tenna there alone. They were probably all in deep shit right now-
Tap tap tap.
Battat went from staring at their hands back up to Pluey, who cupped both of his hands around Battat’s one, pleading silently.
Both Pluey and Jongler watched as Battat frowned, seeming to debate over his words once more.
Jongler reached out part way, “Boss, take it easy. We got ya, we’ll handle everything. Tenna too still.”
Battat didn’t look in Jongler’s direction, instead he tore his eyes off from Pluey. “...Okay.” Pulling his hand back away, he curled himself against the couch.
Pluey stood back up, signing to Jongler without any hesitation.
‘Use the Mike Channel to tell Tenna?’
Jongler sighs, moving to rub the side of their neck in an attempt to ease themselves up. “Yeah, I’ll handle talkin’ to Tenna… Say, uhh.. Mike won’t be back for an unknown time for now..” Jongler paused to watch Battat for a moment. “...Yous stay here, I’ll get Mike’s head and some water for ‘im.”
Pluey gave a thumbs up, watching Jongler leave before he even knew what to do with himself.
___
The transition from consciousness to suddenly waking up will always be a little confusing, but nothing that Battat hadn’t dealt with plenty of times when working until he literally passed out.
Sitting up listening to his coworkers talk(Literally just Jongler's voice), try to think of anything else other than focusing on how sick he feels. To light filtering in through his eyelids, and sitting up to stretch out his sore muscles.
He was definitely still lightheaded, a little dazed but not sick. Felt way too warm in here though.
Right there up against the couch was a chair pulled up as a makeshift table. A glass of water at least within immediate reach, along a few small easy to stomach snacks. All TV Time branded.
“Boss-? Hey- how’re you feelin’?”
Battat looked over further where Jongler and Pluey had been. Seemingly to their own activities silently in waiting, until they each were on their way over.
“Oh, hey..Fine?” Battat didn’t really know what else to do other than greet, look back at the water and take it. At least begin to recall how things went briefly as the two were checking up on him now.
He set the cup back down after a few drinks, at least halving the amount. “Not like before.. Just weird. Here, Pluey- take your coat back-”
Battat began to get up, head still woozy if not feeling extremely slow, but he was much more steady on his feet compared to before. Taking the coat off and holding it out right as Jongler and Pluey even walked up fully.
“Smart move, but probably needs to be washed just because I threw up in it- not on it- I don’t think there’s any on it at all, but you get it.”
Pluey had this.. Mixed look, accepting the coat when held out, draping it over his arm.
“But yous okay now yeah? Absolutely?” Jongler held their hands out as if ready to catch Battat.
Battat smacked at Jongler’s hands. Like hell he was going to admit he still felt weird, but this was ridiculous. “Yes, I’m fine. I said that. Thanks or something for getting me back here.”
He turned to walk around the two, having started removing the Mike suit… ugh, probably needs ironed back out- nope. Cleaned. Same deal as Pluey’s coat, he was ill while wearing it. None got on him, but still, he was sure he reeked of stress sweat as well.
Battat wasn’t.. Actually mad at them either, but he certainly didn’t want to be swarmed with how Jongler spoke carefully or how Pluey looked at him.
He pulled off the rest of the Mike suit down to his regular clothes. Slow if anything, he could tell his own movements were off but he was doing relatively fine.
“Boss take it easy, yous were out for almost sixteen hours just now.”
Sixteen hours?
“Sixteen hours?”
Battat looked back over, then patted around his pockets for his phone to check the time. It was morning, right before work would start up.
“How.”
Jongler comes over again, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Yous just.. Passed out when Pluey said for you ta sleep. Haven’t been up till now. Yous sure you feel okay?”
Battat hesitates, drawing in a deep breath as he looks at Pluey again too.
“Okay, maybe a little foggy but, I’m not sick. I heard enough as to why- I know-” His face started to burn as he spoke. “Just my luck it’d make me feel bad- But I’m up now.”
Pluey adds in from where he stood. ‘You were shaking.’ A momentary pause in his movements. ‘Could barely get up when we tried to bring you here. You’ve already been overworking before this, your nerves are shot.’
“Guys, I’m okay now. I’ll just head home, shower, grab something to eat then come back real quick or something.” Battat ends up staring at his hands as he motions out towards the ground.
Pluey snaps his fingers to get Battat to even look back up at him.
‘Based on how you said you feel, you’re still high. Either stay here or go home.’
“..Just, stay here with us.” Jongler decided that option sounded better. “We’d be able to keep an eye on ya.”
Battat rubbed over his face, hands lingering as he pulled at the skin around his eyes. “Okay. Okay. Whatever. Mike better have had an amazing excuse for Tenna.” He crossed his arms.
“Uhh, kay, but one of us is comin’ with.”
“For what.”
“Yous still high! One of us needs to watch you!”
“I can function! I just want to freshen up! Neither of you need to follow me home!”
Jongler turns to Pluey, disregarding Battat’s denial. “Buddy, you stay here to handle any Tenna stuff.”
Pluey just shrugs, left to listening to their back and forth.
Battat points directly at Jongler. “You are not entering my place.”
___
Battat ended up being right, not allowing Jongler in his place at all. It wasn’t appealing anyways, unready to see the light of day. Jongler ended up waiting right outside the front door to Battat’s apartment. He didn’t waste any time, shower, clean clothes, brush out his mouth from the taste of stomach acid, and step back out.
Honestly he had absolutely no clue he had really been in there. He figured getting clean and dressed was easy enough to do within minutes, but honestly it felt like he was just in his room for a good thirty minutes. Why the fuck would anyone do this to themselves.
The trip back to the studio had been silent, mostly out of Battat not knowing what to say other than complaints, and how Jongler just kept watching and following him.
“So…” Battat starts partway down a hall, finally landing on a thought that wasn’t led in frustration. “We’re gonna have Mike threaten those guys into silence. You know, the other Pippins.” His stupid face burning again, not even a gradual leadup.
“I took care of ‘em.”
Battat glanced up at Jongler.
“Huh.”
“I anonymously reported the.. Food. And I talked to ‘em both.”
“Why would you do that.” Battat wanted to smash his own head through a wall at this rate.
“Mike couldn’t be out.. Avoidin’ Tenna.” Jongler says. “Pluey wanted to fight ‘em, so after, I sorted everythin’ out.”
“Jongler- god- Can’t you just.. Keep things separate? It’s enough we’re stuck together doing this thing for Tenna.” Battat scratched at his palm, eyes following the starry pattern in the carpet. “Cool you both got me, thanks even, I could’ve been found out with how I was.”
“Yous can’t be serious. Separate? Stuck together?”
Okay they sounded mad now.
“Well- duh. Or, a little. Or.. something.” He waves a hand in Jongler’s direction. “Listen, what happened, happened. But I don’t need someone going to fix something like this when.. Mike can hear about the incident, and sweep it under the rug with his status around here.”
Silence fell over them both again, much more tense than before.
Eventually they rounded the corner back to Mike’s door, Battat reaching to open it for them both.
“Forget it. I’ll stay in the Mike room and work on the board till we think I’m cleared up fully.”
“...Boss-”
Battat wasted no time stepping inside, Jongler letting the words die when they clearly weren’t acknowledged.
So that’s how it was.
Stuck together.