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Old springs creaked in protest as Pigma dropped onto the couch. He knew one of these days he’d drop onto the couch and it would drop him. It hadn’t happened yet though, so he didn’t let the thought occupy his mind for too long. A moment of searching found the remote and he turned the TV on.
At this hour he’d only find late-night talk shows and infomercials. Though surely some channel must have at least halfway decent movies on. Movies not suitable for little brats. Movies where, even if the plot was half-baked, at least there’d be something pretty to look at.
He continued flicking through the channels, growing irritated when it seemed like there were only three shows on. No, not Jimmy Falcon again… He began to click through the channels faster. Oh, come on, there must be something on!
Something bright and colorful caught his eye and he backed up two clicks. He stared in disbelief at the bright cartoon bears dancing on the screen. Why was there a kiddie cartoon on at three in the morning?!
Pigma was about to continue his search through the channels when something caught his attention.
“Bright Heart Racoon, that’s me. I can solve any problem thinking logically.” One of the characters sang. Then the chorus returned. “I’m flying my colors so everyone can see. Isn’t this the prefect way to introduce me?”
He snickered, recognizing the song Jim had been singing under his breath the last few days. The brats really had ruined his taste in music. As much as the gibberish annoyed him, Pigma almost wished Jim would go back to singing his damn papetoonian songs.
Or shut up. Shutting up was a good option.
Though something was wrong if Jim wasn’t humming to himself in his downtime. That had been the first indication things weren’t right on the job today. Not that they’d failed the job, not by a long shot.
(Pigma was really looking forward to the paycheck on this one. Zonessian businessmen may be greedy as all hell but they paid well when it came to getting the results they wanted.)
It just hadn’t been very fun without Jim responding to any of Pigma’s ribbing. What was the point of taunting someone if they wouldn’t answer? And Peppy hadn’t been all that responsive either, too worried about what was wrong with Jim.
Not that it had been hard to figure out. As soon as they’d returned to the mothership Jim had been displaying all the warning signs of an oncoming migraine.
Pigma grimaced, feeling the mask around his eyes. Envious as he was James had escaped the generator explosion with his sight, chronic migraines would have been a high price to pay for it. Of course, if the idiot would take his meds as soon as he realized he was getting a headache they probably wouldn’t affect him as much as they did.
He heard the doors to the lounge open with a creak. Realizing the colorful cartoon was still onscreen, Pigma continued flicking through the channels. Though he was hardly paying attention to the TV as he heard wheels roll slowly across the floor. He glanced over as a figure appeared beside the couch. “How’re ya feelin’ Jimbo?”
Better, the fact he was out of bed said. Not great, the fact he was in his wheelchair instead of using his prosthetics, added.
“Headache’s gone,” Jim answered tiredly. “Would have been nice if it could have taken everything else with it.” He rolled closer before hoisting himself out of his chair and onto the couch with a practiced motion.
Pigma felt him brush against his arm in silent question. Rolling his eyes, he stretched an arm out along the back of the couch. A weight landed against his side as Jim’s head came to rest against his shoulder.
Not one for snuggling, Pigma was only tolerating it now just because he knew Jim wasn’t feeling great. Honestly though, what was it with papetoonians and cuddling? It seemed like they didn’t know any other way to exist.
Not that Jim ever forced contact. ‘No’ was a full sentence in his book – or whatever the saying was nowadays. He just always seemed to crave closeness. Especially when he felt like shit.
Peppy was usually happy to oblige (now that Pigma thought about it, maybe being a ‘cuddle bug’ wasn’t just a papetoonian thing), but he was in bed asleep. As they all should be, but hey, he wasn’t a kid anymore. Pigma would go to bed when he damn well felt like it.
“Nothin’ good on TV?” Jim asked after another moment of fruitless searching.
“No.” Pigma finally gave up and shut the TV off.
“Here, let me.” Jim took the remote, though Pigma didn’t know how he’d be able to find anything different.
A minute later an old detective (or was it a cop?) show was up on the screen. The one where a grizzled wolf tolerated working with his younger nerdy fox partner. It wasn’t exactly the kind of show he’d been looking for, but it was far better than anything he’d found.
“How’d ya d’ th’t?” Pigma asked in disbelief.
“Luck?” Jim suggested. When that earned an unconvinced look, he gave a half shrug in response.
One of these days Pigma was going to get Jim to share his secrets. Eventually. For now, he just settled back against the couch cushions.
Jim shifted his weight. The tips of his ears brushed against Pigma’s jaw as he snuggled in closer. It wasn’t surprising at all when he fell asleep before the first act of the show was over.
Pigma sighed, resigning himself to staying here for the rest of the night. At least the show was decent. And if Peppy wanted to play Mother Hen tomorrow, he’d be able to point at Jim as a get-out-of-jail free card.
Oh, that was going to be a fun show to watch tomorrow. Peppy versus Jim. For now though, he watched the old detective show.