Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What’cha thinkin ‘bout boss?”

“Jongler, we need a new show.”

“What’s da ratins’ say?” Jongler said, making his way to the head of the table where Battat stood. Pluey sat in a chair at the table, staring quietly but intently as Battat pointed to a sticky note left on the board at the front of the room. 

“Cowboys,” He said with a slight frown, as if he could think of any better ideas. “The kids want cowboys.”

“You serious?”

“Yep,” he sighed and looked to Pluey, who nodded excitedly at the idea. “At least one of us likes it.” 

“I ain’t sayin I don like it,” Jongler said hurriedly.

“Okay, that makes two of us.”

“C’mon boss, we could put da big man in a hat!” Jongler sounded about as excited saying that as Pluey looked at the original idea. It was clear the two would win this decision, and thus, Battat gave in. 

“Fine, but only if I get to mess with the email guy.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Spamton shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. The papers he was holding flew and fluttered to the ground. “You have to be kidding… right? Right, you’re fucking with me!”

“Come on, Spamton, it could be… uh… fun. Yeah, yeah it’ll be fun!” Tenna responded hesitantly before raising his tone to sound more enthusiastic. “Surely your role isn’t that bad.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you get?” 

“I got the star, of course,” Tenna started, raising a hand in the air and the other over his chest before continuing. “The rugged adventurer, a wanderer who never settles.” He went on to dramatically read out the full description printed on the piece of paper he was handed, to which Spamton had not at all been listening to. 

“You’re joking,” he said, interrupting Tenna’s reading. “You wanna know what I got? Really? I got a goddamn loser is what I got.” 

This wasn’t the first time Spamton had gotten the short end of the stick when it came to casting, but at this point he was starting to think that green pippin hated him. Almost every time Tenna would get the coolest lead or Spamton would be cast as a side character. Unbelievable. 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. Here, give me your description,” Said Tenna, reaching a hand toward Spamton as he bent down to pick up the papers he had thrown only a moment ago. He began to skim the paper aloud, “Lets see here… A small town farm boy… lives with his parents… never real good at making friends…” As he read, Spamton visibly grew more and more embarrassed, his face reddening the more Tenna spoke.

“Alright alright, quit it.” He said frustratedly, crossing his arms.

“Oh I don’t know, your character seems cute! They’d make a good duo.”

“Cute? Really? Is that what you think I am?” Spamton said with a snarl. 

“No no, o-of course not! I think you’re very um… cool!” 

To that, Spamton didn’t reply. He instead walked off, mumbling about “respect” and “lousy jobs.” Tenna didn’t follow him to, where he assumed was his dressing room where he would likely continue complaining to himself before giving in. Just as he was leaving, Tenna smelt the subtle smell of cigarette smoke.

The scene begins at the inside of a closed door. A faint knocking can be heard, as well as the rushing of footsteps down a set of old, carpeted wooden stairs. In the background, there is the muted sound of a gentle rain beginning. Spamton, arriving at the door, adjusts his loose-fitting button-down shirt. The shirt is a light, faded green. He wears worn blue jeans and his hair up in a small ponytail. Spamton wasn’t expecting guests and his parents wouldn’t be home for some time now. He opens the door, just a crack to peer outside.

“Hello?” He says, just an ounce of concern in his voice. “Can I help you?”

Tenna stands on the steps on the other side of the door, hat in hands as he looks up with a slightly saddened expression.

“Well I’m sorry to be a bother, sir” he begins, “But I got a feelin’ that rain’s gonna start gettin’ real hard in a minute here, and… well I wan’ed to ask you if ya got a place I can stay the night,”

Tenna’s accent is thicker than Spamton’s; oddly, it suits him well. On the inside, Tenna can see a well furnished and well lit house; it looks cozy, and well lived in. There are a few portraits on the wall, but he can’t make out what’s in them from where he stands. On the outside, Spamton sees the dark clouds rolling in and the yellowing grass around his house already looks damp.

“I s’pose I could let you stay in the barn for the night, it’d keep you outta the rain at least…” Spamton replied.

“I’d be awful grateful if you’d let me find a place for my horse as well, if there’s space f’course.”

Spamton smiled lightly, “Course there’s space, ain’t been animals in that barn since I was real young.”

Tenna’s face lit up at his response and he added, “Why, thank you sir, I’m forever in your debt.” Tenna then makes his way back from the door, hesitant to step back out in the rain, but he walks to his horse and carefully leads it to the large open door of the weather-greyed barn. Spamton stayed at the door, opening it just a bit more to watch the unfamiliar cowboy walk off his steps and over to his horse, which he had tied to a post at the edge of the property. He turned to walk away, closing the door behind him as Spamton went about his house.

Tenna, now inside the barn, could hear the rain begin to harden as he gathered some old hay into a pile where he could lay out his sleeping bag. His horse sat beside him, a dark brown made darker by the low light. The easiest thing to see was the white spots on its face and flank. It nuzzled against his shoulder while he laid out the sleeping bag and sat on top of it. 

Some time later, laying quietly with his hat over his face and hands behind his head, Tenna is startled by the approaching sound of footsteps. Noticing his concern, Spamton apologizes for the intrusion. 

“I was cookin’ up some food and I made a little extra. I’m not gonna finish this,” he said, handing a bowl of warm soup to Tenna, a metal spoon sticking out of the bowl. 

“You’re too kind sir,” Tenna said in response. He was now fully sitting up, cautiously spooning the soup into his mouth. Spamton just stood. He didn’t have anything to say but he felt bad just leaving the guy out here.

“So. you got a name I can call you?” He attempted to say lightly.

“Naw,” Tenna said. “Ain’t never had a real one, but I owe you one so you can just call me a buddy.”

“Alright, ‘a buddy’” Spamton chuckled. “I’ll uh… you can bring the bowl back in the mornin’ if I’m not up just leave it on the steps.” He finished awkwardly before turning to leave swiftly.

The camera zooms slowly into Tenna’s face. He wears a comfortable smile and says quietly to himself, “What a strange kid…”

The shot pans out as Tenna brings the spoon to his mouth again and the screen fades to black. On the screen, the words ‘Enjoyed? Check back next week and catch ‘TV Time: A Western Journey’ at 9 pm EST!’ appear before the channel switches to the next late night show.

Chapter Text

“Cut!” came the voice of a pippin just off set. Currently Tenna and Spamton stand in front of a fake barn; there are huge green screens around the area and a camera on an armature positioned between the two of them with another pippin maneuvering it around. The pippin turns to look at the other who called for a pause. Everyone looks tired and frustrated. “Spamton, your tone is off. Try again,” they add. 

“Your tone is off,” Spamton repeats mockingly.

“We’ve done this eleven times now, one more won’t kill you.”

“Yeah well why don’t you go fuck yourself.” 

“Spamton!” Tenna interjects. He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head slightly before letting out a long breath. “Let’s just do it one more time, after that we break. Sound good enough?” Spamton rolls his eyes before walking back to his starting position. He then jogs back to the place he was standing. Tenna, who had turned around to face the horse dummy behind him, shifts to look at Spamton as he comes back.

“Wait, I could really use your help here in the field,” Spamton says, a little more enthusiastically but the line still comes across flat.

“‘Scuse me—”

“Cut!” the same pippin shouts again. “Spamton you’re really making this difficult.”

“Sorry,” he says, though his fists are clenched and his smile is forced. He looks directly at Tenna saying, “One more time?” to which Tenna nods. Spamton again runs a few yards away, and then back to his spot in front of Tenna. “Wait!” His voice is louder and more full of life this time. “Sir you can’t leave yet, not before you suck my ass!” He says with gusto and turns to stare directly into the camera beside him, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Okay cut,” Tenna responds frantically, waving his hands about. “Spamton. A word.” He demands and begins to walk off towards the house front. Spamton follows but not before sneering at the pippin, who does not react.

Getting closer to the front front of the house it becomes a lot clearer that it’s just a set prop. Though it is detailed— the paint clean, the siding and windows both real— it’s easy to see up close that it has no dimension and is just a flat wall. Tenna walks around the side of it and Spamton, hands in his pockets casually, follows him around to the back. On this side, the wood is unpainted and there is nothing behind the curtains on the windows. Large wooden beams press against the wall from the back to support it and a set of stairs leads up to a box on stilts which contains the majority of a furnished room inside of it. The stairs, weirdly enough, are carpeted.

“Spamton!” Tenna snaps, whipping around to face him and startling him in the process. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing, I’m doing just fine,” he responds, still grinning. 

“Nothing? Are you sure? You’ve never been so bitchy about a role before.”

“Yeah? Maybe I just got sick of always getting cast as some stupid lame character.”

“You’re not always cast like that.”

“Mhm,” he hums and crosses his arms. “Just like you’re not always the star.”

“Is that what this is about? C’mon Spamton don’t be like this you know I look at us like equals.” That’s not entirely true, but Tenna tries to believe it is just for this moment.

“Nope, just an observation is all.” Spamton replies with a shrug.

“Then what is it? Why do you hate this character so much?”

“You really want me to say it?”

“Yes!”

“Fine,” he huffs before looking around and lowering his voice. “This one makes me look gay.”

“What?” Tenna says, raising his voice just a bit. 

“Shhh!” Spamton shushes him loudly. “I-I mean not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he says, laughing nervously before adding in a rush “But I’m not. I’m not gay.”

Tenna doesn’t respond but he looks strangely shaken and Spamton takes it as he’s being judged.

“What, you think I’m a fag? Do I look like a faggot to you?” he says harshly.

“NO!” Tenna shouts before covering his mouth. “I mean, um… no.”

“Then the fuck are you staring at me for?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing.” Tenna sounds worried. “He’s not. Your character, I mean.” 

“Sure.”

“He isn’t! B-but I’ll… I’ll talk to the writers and see if we can get some things changed.” There’s a hurriedness in the way he says that. “But please, just for this recording can you cooperate?”

“Fine, whatever. As long as my lines don’t make me sound like a clingy bitch.”

There’s a pause and Spamton begins to walk away.

“Wait,” Tenna calls after him. “Um, what is it about the character?”

“Huh? What is it what?”

“You know… what makes him… um…” Tenna gets real close to Spamton, bringing himself to whisper the word like it’ll bite him if he speaks too loud. “Gay?

“Oh, well for starters he’s a pussy. A real nervous freak. Like, he just met this guy, y’know?”

Tenna nods.

“And what’s with this weird infatuation he’s got with you, hm? I dunno Tens, I just… I don’t like it.”

“Okay… okay, I’ll take care of it.” He responds, backing up to let Spamton walk back to the set. “But please follow the script for this one, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah alright I said whatever.” With that, Spamton continues to walk off, though just before he turns the corner to walk back out in front of the set wall, he takes a breath and fixes his shirt a little. Whether it needed to be fixed is debated, but he continues out with a more genuine smile on his face this time and walks back to the set of the recording. Tenna hesitates before following him slowly. 

The rest of the recording goes on without a hitch, being that it’s rather short. Afterwards, Tenna still looks rattled as Spamton goes to talk with one of the crew members behind the scenes. Tenna can’t hear him, but he’s likely complaining about his character again. It feels like a ball drops in Tenna’s stomach as he thinks about Spamton telling people what they had talked about and he begins to walk closer to listen in when he realizes that surely he’s being crazy. He’s overreacting, right? People won’t really think that… he worries. No. No, I’ll talk with the writers. We’ll fix this. I’ll fix this.

Chapter Text

Episode one begins not long after the pilot. Tenna wakes to find the bowl and spoon gone from where he had left it the night before—Spamton must’ve come and grabbed it earlier that morning. He sits there quietly for what feels like a very long time, just looking around the barn at its old timber and dusty shelves. There isn’t much in the barn, as Spamton said there hadn’t been animals in there for a long time, but it seems to have been used as storage at one point more recently; the layers of dust differ just enough to be noticeable. A few empty crates sit in the far corners and along the slowly rotting walls, and there’s some hay still left in what used to be pens for animals. There looks to be the old pieces of a coop piled up at the far edge of the barn: some chicken wire, boards, and a ramp are all that’s left. At some point, Tenna stands, waking his horse just slightly enough for it to shift. 

Leaving the barn, the sun is bright but clouds still fill the sky. The rain has since stopped, perhaps at some point during the night, but the short grass looks wet and the dirt is dark and damp. In the distance, Spamton’s house sits. It’s two stories, and likely has an attic. There’s a porch around the other side, facing out into the vast field that separates them from the nearest house which can just vaguely be seen. From where he stands, Tenna can see Spamton pass by windows from time to time as he goes about his daily routine. It’s hard to see what he’s doing from where Tenna stood, and admittedly he spent far too much time staring trying to figure it out. Eventually though, he would sit down near a window, and just stay there for a while. After that, Tenna got bored and went back into the barn.

Spamton, book in hand, would watch Tenna walk into the barn. He had intended to read it, but something about this stranger on his property fascinated him. In his room on the second floor he could see Tenna walk out again holding the reins of his horse. He had removed its saddle during the night for a more comfortable rest before the two needed to head out and was now working to put it back on, brushing and patting his horse as he did so. He continued to watch Tenna care for his horse and felt a pang of guilt in just waiting for him to leave. In that feeling, he had failed to realize that Tenna was now looking back at him. When Spamton finally reacted and turned in embarrassment, Tenna only chuckled and shook his head as he looked away as well. In that moment he would look back to Tenna for just a second, and in his mind he tried to picture what it was like to be on the road all the time. It seemed dangerous and lonely, and Spamton decided that he couldn’t let this stranger leave—at least not yet.

Running out of the house, Spamton came to a stop in front of Tenna just as he appeared to be heading in his direction already. 

“Wait,” he said, catching his breath. “I uh… I could use your help here in the field.”

“‘Scuse me?” Tenna responded confusedly.

“Sorry it’s just… w-well I wouldn’t mind it if you stayed a while longer. Y’know, help out ‘round the farm, save you from havin’ to hit the road again…”

“Now what’s this about?” Spamton now had his full attention. Tenna was now standing, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked; he was smiling.

Spamton didn’t reply for a moment as the embarrassment began to catch up with him. Still his eyes stayed locked on Tenna, and he was able to manage a hurried response as he realized he was leaving him waiting. 

“Um…” he started. “It… it gets a bit lonely out here when my parents are away. Don’t have many friends and you’re a new face so I just figured…”

“Figured what?”

“Maybe… I could give you a job?” To that, Tenna let out a gentle laugh.

“I got plenty’a jobs, kid, but I appreciate your kindness. You’ve done enough for me already.”

Dejected, Spamton hung his head a little dramatically. He sighed, getting ready to admit defeat when his face suddenly changed. 

“What if I come with you?” 

The question stunned Tenna and his face became pensive.

“Now I don’t think that’s—”

“Please?” Spamton insisted. He was smiling like this was the greatest idea he had ever come up with. 

“C’mon I can’t just—”

“I won’t bother ya, promise!”

“I—”

“I can be useful! Twice the income for jobs—”

“Would’ya quit cutting me off?” Spamton’s face went a little rosey. He was acting like a child. After that, he didn’t say anything, waiting for Tenna to finish this time. “As I was gonna say, I don’t think you know what that’d do to your parents. Ya can’t just up and leave ‘em.” 

Now was Spamton’s turn to look lost in thought.

“They won’t be back for a while,” he said quietly. It looked like he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. In that moment, Spamton suddenly felt very small; childish and young. Tenna looked at him and let out a long sigh, scratching his head. “I really don’t think they’ll mind,” he added.

Tenna groaned before finally saying, “If… if you think it’ll be alright with ‘em, I ‘spose I could show you the real world a little.” Spamton was delighted and he began to run back inside, his reaction causing Tenna to add, “S’long as you tell ‘em where you gone!”

Inside the house Spamton packed a small backpack—filling it with a couple books, a pen and small notebook, and a bedroll that had been kept in his closet. He hadn’t used it since he went camping with his family, and that was many years ago. 

Once done, he rushed over to his desk, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen where he would start to write a note for his parents. The camera zooms in on the note when he finishes, running back outside. On the screen, the note reads:

Mom and Dad,

I’m finally getting out of the house. It’s been so quiet since you left and a stranger stopped by the house, a real cowboy. He’s gonna show me around some. If you return before I do, please don’t worry. I’ll write to the house when I get the chance.

Regards,

Spammy

Chapter Text

The phone is ringing and Spamton jolts awake. Previously dreaming, it takes a moment to come into reality, startled and everything a little hazy still. He opens his eyes slightly before he rolls over towards the wall, hoping the phone will stop ringing soon and he can get back to sleep. And it does after a few seconds, but it isn’t long until it begins again. 

“It’s so early…” Spamton mumbles to himself before turning back to the bedside table where the phone sits. If he were paying attention, he would know that it in fact is not early. Picking up the phone, he is immediately blasted with the sound of his own name. 

“Spamton? Where the hell are you?” Tenna yells down the receiver.

“Huh?” He responds groggily. His hair is a mess and he lays topless in nothing but his boxers. “Tenna what’s—”

“I said where the hell are you? You’re gonna be late!” Tenna shouts. 

“For…?”

“The recording you idiot! Were you sleeping? What are you doing, get your ass over here the shoot starts in twenty,” he says before abruptly ending the call, not giving Spamton a chance to even process. When he finally does, he flops onto his back and pulls a pillow over his face while groaning. He sits up, flinging the pillow off of himself and onto the floor suddenly before sliding out of bed and stomping off to the bathroom connected to his room. His bedroom isn’t huge but by no means is it small. His apartment sits on the eastern end of Cyber City in an area that Queen owns and rents out to darkners. It’s close enough to TV World and thus makes it easier to ignore the need to rush. 

“Literally can’t start without me. They’ll have to wait,” He says to his reflection as he stands in front of his bathroom mirror, combing his hair out.

He goes about the rest of his routine with a nonchalance not at all appropriate for the time. Coming to his closet, a large sliding door fitted into the wall with a floor length mirror taller than he is (not that the bar is high), he decides to forego the suit for the day. He’s going to be changing when he arrives anyway and he’s leaving right after so there’s no point to dress for business. Still wanting to look professional, he grabs a white button-down and the brown slacks that go with his suit; they’re the same ones he and Tenna usually wear around the studio. He slides something over his head and as he begins buttoning up his shirt, he stands and admires himself for a moment. Spamton runs his hands along his flattened chest as if to straighten out a shirt, even though he’s hardly wearing his at the moment, and is met with the soft fabric of the white binder he wears. He frowns disapprovingly at his reflection and continues buttoning his shirt. 

Arriving at the studio in his bright red and shiny cungadaro, Spamton steps out only to be greeted by a very angry looking Tenna. He stands, arms crossed and foot tapping against the ground.

“Ayyyy Ant, apologies for the delayed arrival,” Spamton says casually. 

“You’re late.”

“Yeah. Rough night, my bad,” he lies. Well, maybe it’s not a total lie. Regardless, that seems to be enough for Tenna and his expression softens, if only a little. 

“Let’s go,” Tenna says, still very sternly. “We should’ve started 5 minutes ago and you still aren’t dressed.” There’s a break in conversation as they walk to the front doors, but before they head in Tenna adds, “And I don’t want to hear any complaining from you today. I’m handling it and it’s not helpful.”

“Yeah yeah,” Spamton waves him off. “I make no promises.”

“I know you said no complaining but man, I hate having my hair up,” Spamton says to Tenna as he walks briskly out of his dressing room, correctly assuming he would be waiting outside. “You can add that one to the list.”

Tenna does not respond, looking down at a small stack of papers in his hands as the two walk. He then quietly hands Spamton some of the papers and in taking a closer look, he can see that the papers he was handed are a set of lines including stage directions which he had been given days ago but seems to have forgotten at the studio. He takes a second to flip through them before turning his head to look at Tenna, who still hasn’t said anything since Spamton walked out of his room. 

“Listen, yes I was late, I'm aware, but I said I was sorry. What else do you want from me?” He says as they continue on.

Tenna stops walking, facing Spamton as he walks ahead a little, and he smiles. It’s not a comforting smile, and only serves to unsettle Spamton.

“It’s fine. I forgive you.” Is all he says before turning to continue on toward the area in which the show is being filmed, leaving Spamton behind. For the first time that day, Spamton hurries. 

Being so close to Cyber City, empty lots and unfilled land are hard to come by. However, as luck would have it, just on the outskirts of TV World and nearing the border between it and the city, there is an empty plot of land where short grass and dirt fill the area. This is where the shoots have been taking place. There still sits the massive green-screens and the edifices of fake buildings from the previous recording, which had only happened a few days earlier.

The set up is the same as it was with sets of pippins collected around numerous cameras and microphones, fiddling with frames and adjusting sensitivity as Spamton and Tenna converse with them in small groups. Tenna, who is also now fully dressed, no longer seems on edge and talks to the pippins with his usual amount of energy and emotion. In conversation with an entirely different group of pippins, Spamton can’t help but pass glances at Tenna as if he’s waiting for something to happen. Nothing does, and that worries him. What is going on with him? Did I really piss him off that bad? He seems fine now… His thoughts drift off as he begins to come back to reality at the sound of a voice next to him.

“Spamton? Spamton listen,” says a familiar green pippin. “Hello? Hey, asshole!”

“What? What, oh my heaven above what do you want?” Spamton snaps as if they hadn’t been having a conversation, or at least half of one. 

“Jeez, okay calm down. Sheesh, who pissed in your coffee?” Battat responds. “Just giving you a heads up, if you’re going to bad mouth the staff, we’re going to have to start getting on your nerves about it.”

“Yeah, I figured. Surprised you haven’t, usually it’s Tenna who tells me off. What’s up with him by the way?” 

“What do you mean?” Battat asks, confused. 

“Nevermind, just… forget I said anything,” Spamton says, equally as confused though it doesn’t quite show in his voice. 

“Forget him, what’s up with you?”

“What? Nothing he’s just… he was acting weird earlier, that’s all,” Spamton says, waving his hand about as if to shoo Battat. “Like I said, forget I said anything. It’s really not that important.”

“Whatever you say man.” And with that, Battat walks off, joining a nearby group of red pippins who are discussing set dressing. Battat stands a little taller than the rest of them, though not by much. And obviously: he’s green. Spamton stands only a head taller than Battat, and Tenna about 2 or 3 more than Spamton. Despite the size difference, Spamton doesn’t often find himself intimidated by Tenna—at least, not most of the time. 

In Spamton’s hands still sits the sheets of paper he was handed by Tenna when he exited his dressing room, and he begins to actually look through them as Battat wanders off. He groans at the sight of them, realizing now that Tenna’s earlier comment about ‘handling it’ actually meant he hasn’t gotten around to discussing the script with anyone yet. Perfect. That’s just great.

“Right, boss?” Jongler announces to the varied crowd, though looking specifically at Tenna when he says it. “We good to get goin’?” 

Tenna nods in response and looks over to make eye contact with Spamton, who gives a cautious smile and a thumbs up. 

“Perfect,” Battat says. He then walks over to the director’s seat set up behind the cameras, shooing Pluey out of the chair so he can sit. Pluey, annoyed, curls up on the floor next to the chair almost like some sort of cat. A weird, man shaped cat. 

Tenna and Spamton both make their way to their places on set: Tenna standing beside the fake horse waiting for Spamton to return, and Spamton standing at the inside of the door waiting to open it and run out. Over one shoulder sits a backpack that he had filled in the previous episode. The cameras go on as they get to their spots and a pippin stands next to the main camera holding a clapperboard. 

“Ready? And… action!” They say before closing the clapperboard. Not a moment passes before Spamton comes barreling out of the door towards Tenna, full of an almost unsettling amount of excitement for him. 

“Hey!” He shouts from a good few meters away, quickly approaching. The camera, which had been focused on Tenna, now switches to an angle showing Spamton from a distance. “I’m good to go, wrote a letter ‘n everything.” He says once he’s in front of Tenna.

“Right,” Tenna replies as the camera switches back to a focused shot of his upper half before putting his foot up onto a buckle on the saddle to hoist himself up on the fake horse. However, in doing so while still facing Spamton, he misses entirely and falls forward a little. 

“Cut!” Battat yells from the director's seat. “Tenna, remember to step in with the front of your foot.”

That was quick, Spamton thinks to himself. Tenna nods in response to Battat and steps back, readying to redo the shot. The camera takes a second to focus on his head again as it fell out of shot the first time, but once it does the clapperboard goes down for the second time.

“Right,” Tenna repeats. This time, he successfully makes it up onto the mount. He then reaches his hand out to Spamton, who still stands on the ground, offering to help him up. “Then, shall we?”

The camera goes back to Spamton: he stands looking moderately nervous and takes a small step backwards. “I-I don’t know, can’t we just walk?”

Tenna looks at him inquisitively. “What, never been on a horse?”

“Ah… no sir,” Spamton replies with a bit of disappointment in himself. “We ain’t never had horses, just the goats and a few chickens. For a time we had ducks though.” Spamton doesn’t say anything after that and neither does Tenna. A few seconds pass before another “Cut!” comes across the set.

“Spamton, did you forget your lines?”

“Shit, did I?” He says before running off set to where he has his stack of lines placed. He had only briefly looked through them that day so he was mostly going based on the memory of practice recordings. “Oh yeah, I remember now. They’re fuckin’ stupid that’s why I forgot. Makin’ be sound like a little bitch,” he says mostly to himself but it’s just loud enough that a few people hear. Tenna glares at him and Spamton can physically feel his stare. He takes a second to find his spot and reads through it a couple times before tossing it back down on the ground and jogging back to his place. When he returns, Spamton seems out of breath, taking a moment before he begins to repeat his previous lines.

“N-no sir,” he says with a very similar intonation as before. “We… we ain’t never had horses, just the goats and a few chickens. For a while we had ducks though, but they didn’t last long. We had a coyote problem some time ago and—”

“Okay, okay…” Tenna continues gently. Out of character, something behind his eyes looks on edge. “I get it. Want me to show you, or you just gonna hold on for dear life hm?” He says, smiling only enough to hide from the camera. 

Spamton (in character) takes a second to think when suddenly a light rosiness comes across his cheeks as he, as himself, realizes the kind of position this will put him in. Whatever, Tenna said no complaining. This better get changed soon or I swear I’ll have his head. “It… I think it’d be smarter if you show me,” he says with hesitance.  

“Perfect,” says Tenna as he hops off the horse. “First off, you gotta get on the darn thing…” He lends a hand for Spamton to take, helping him make his way up the side of the horse. Spamton takes his hand with caution and notices that Tenna is shaking ever so slightly—or at least, his hands are. With Tenna’s help, he’s able to step up on the buckle that Tenna had used to get on the horse originally, hopping up from there. Once on, Spamton pretends to tilt a little too far off the other side and begins to fall, flailing his arms as Tenna grabs him and he yelps. “Careful there! Now, you’re gonna need to squeeze your legs a tad.” Spamton does as he’s told. “Good, but try not to look so tense.”

They both chuckle, Spamton more nervously than Tenna. 

“Alright now scoot,” Tenna says, motioning with his hand for Spamton to move back on the saddle before he himself jumps on. “What I said about holdin’ on? You’re still gonna want to do that.”

Spamton nods, swallowing with a bit more harshness than intended. It doesn’t seem like the crew noticed though. In fact, it’s shocking how little they’ve said. Maybe this’ll be fast for once… He thinks to himself as he turns back to look at the house behind him. The camera follows his gaze, focusing on it and then him before snapping back to the two. 

“Kid,” Tenna says to grab Spamton’s attention again. “I told’ya to hold on.”

“Yes… sorry,” Spamton replies with a smile though his eyes are sad. He then begins to wrap his arms around Tenna’s waist and he swears he can almost feel Tenna shiver. Spamton gets ready to say something when he is cut off by Tenna’s lines. 

“You ready?” He asks. 

“Mhm,” Spamton hums and makes a curious face as he sees Tenna smiling a real, genuine smile. Tenna then turns back around, and with that he digs his heel into the body and suddenly it begins to move. Not forward, but more in a rocking motion, which he and Spamton both follow for a moment until Battat finally calls for a break. 

“Alright everyone, great job, take five. We gotta move the set pieces,” He says. Before he even finishes though, Tenna is rushing from the horse and almost knocks Spamton off in the process. 

“Woah hey! The hell are you going?”

“Just give me a sec!” Tenna yells back as he heads off set. He practically runs over to a table set off to the side of the set some yards away, where various things belonging to the cast and crew sit. To Tenna however, only two important things lay there: a lighter and a fresh pack of cigarettes, completely unopened. He fumbles with the package until he manages to get one out, placing it between his lips and lighting it. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, smoke flowing from his mouth. A little seeps from the vent on the side of his head and all of the sudden he doesn’t look as tense. 

Spamton, much more slowly, wanders his way over to Tenna. He gestures for Tenna to hand him one before saying, “You uh… you doin’ alright Tens?”

He passes one over along with the lighter and Spamton takes them both. “Me?” Tenna says. “Oh I’m just fine.”

“Really?” Spamton makes it obvious that he doesn’t believe him, making eye contact as he lights his cigarette. He clears his throat and brings it to his mouth, inhaling and exhaling. “‘Cause you were kinda freaking out back there, or at least looked like it.”

“Oh that?” Tenna laughs nervously. “I was just… like you said: you had a rough night? I’ve had a rough day.”

“Mm, gotcha…” Spamton responds a bit awkwardly. Some time passes and the two sit there smoking in silence until Spamton breaks it. “So… speaking of things I’ve said, how's the uh,” he pauses and looks around him. “Script changes going?”

“Ah, right yeah. I haven’t quite gotten around to it yet, sorry.”

“No no, it’s alright just… hurry up could’ya?”

“I-I will I just need to figure out some uh, logistics first.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah…”

In the background, pippins are talking as is Jongler with a couple other zappers. Their conversations are muffled and it’s hard to hear what they’re saying, but just barely Spamton feels as though he could hear his name. He focuses harder to hear but he hears nothing more and only ends up lengthening the cloudy quiet. Tenna spots some pippins and one zapper walking back from the set, where now the barn and house pieces are missing, and takes that as his opportunity to end whatever is left of the conversation. 

“Well I think we should start heading back,” he says and immediately starts to walk away, removing the cigarette and smushing it into the table to put it out. 

“Right, right.” Spamton follows. Just as soon as he reaches the set though, he actually hears his name this time.

“Spamton! No smoking on set.”

“Oh can it would’ya? I’m putting it out, jeez.” He takes one long breath before turning around, flicking it to the ground, and walking on set.

The rest of the recording is short, as the episodes themselves aren’t intended to be long. Spamton and Tenna return to the horse and get on. A fan is brought out just off set to simulate the wind and the two yell back and forth in conversation. This doesn’t go on long and the camera cuts to a shot of Spamton laying out a bedroll on the ground in the dark night. Tenna is already laying down, hat over head, similar to how he slept in the barn. In the dark, Spamton speaks:

“Before I forget,” he says, rolling on his stomach and stretching a hand out towards Tenna. “My name’s Spamton, but my family calls me Spammy.”

Tenna reaches out to meet him and they shake hands. “Tenna,” is all he says.

“I thought you were ‘a buddy’.” Spamton says jokingly.

The two laugh and the recording ends for the day.

Chapter Text

Guys sorry this chapter is under like maintenance or something idk I'm redoing it come back soon