Chapter Text
Life in the dump was predictable.
It wasn’t a bad thing, for the record. In fact, Spamton could admit, without even a shred of dishonesty, that he enjoyed his routines.
At least, he enjoyed them once Tenna was in the picture. Everything in his life had been better after that. God, he could spend all day making no money, running junk mail and trash for no pay, and he’d still be the luckiest monster in the underground if he got to come home to Tenna’s smile.
Ugh, that was way too cheesy. Clearly, he needed to focus on his work instead of whatever… sappy things came to mind.
He sped through the rest of his usual mail run - for pay, thank you very much - and headed back to their junk shop, where his husband was no doubt charming anyone who passed through and stubbornly ignoring his bad knee.
This wasn’t much, compared to the old days, but Spamton wouldn’t trade his predictable little life for anything.
And then, as all the worst things do, it changed.
That little thing no one quite prepares for, no matter how much they may expect it. That thing Spamton never, ever, ever wanted.
Children.
Spamton wasn’t overly fond of kids, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it, either. They didn’t send mail, for one thing, and they were loud for another. Plus, they were usually about his height, except then they grew taller. Disrespectful little brats.
All in all, he was not primed for success when he opened the door to the shop and was immediately met with a bright purple dragon wrecking their shop.
Well, ‘wreck' might be a little strong. She had her paws in a basket of Premuim Quality Rusted Parts, entirely unconcerned with the risk of lockjaw, the rusty red stains on her worn blue jacket, or the mess strewn around her.
A mess that Spamton would probably have to clean.
When he squawked out an affronted noise, she merely glanced up, wrinkled her snout with an unimpressed air, and went back to digging.
The audacity! In Spamton’s shop!
[To the parent or guardian whom it may concern:
HEy! This isn’t a daycare! Paying customers only! Beat it!
Spamton G Spamton.]
“Ah, don’t be rude, Spammy!” Tenna warbled nearby. His antenna must be on the fritz again - and Spamton could fix it, except that it would only fluster Tenna to do so in front of an audience. His ire only grew when Tenna added, “She’s come to look at our stuff! Isn’t that exciting?”
[Dearest Cathode:
Looking isn’t buying, Ant. That won’t do us any good!
Yours, Spamton
PS. Kid!! Scram!!]
“Don’t be like that,” Tenna scolded, leaning against the counter. “You're welcome here any time, Suzy.” The weight eased subtly off his bad leg, and Spamton clocked the movement with an internal sigh. He didn’t argue with Tenna while he was hurting; it was hardly fair, since Tenna still felt the need to ‘make up’ for his repairs by letting Spamton win.
Which meant Tenna got what he wanted automatically. It was insufferable. Spamton would complain more if Tenna weren’t right so damn often.
And the kid, seizing the opportunity like a true businesswoman, puffed up to her feet with a mischievous grin. “Yeah,” she said toothily, adjusting her ratty jacket again. “Don’t be like that, Spammy.” And before Spamton could even begin to react, she rolled up onto her tiptoes, making herself just that much taller to smirk down at him.
That’s it.
[To: Little Pest
Why I oughta -!]
“Spammy!”
---
And so began his new routine: a morning mail run, manning the shop with his husband, working on whatever part of Tenna needed upkeep, and settling down with him at night.
And smack dab in the middle of that schedule, annoyingly inconsistent and always in the way, was Suzy.
Suzy, in their shop. Suzy, making trips through the dump with Tenna. Suzy, following Spamton like a large, unruly duckling. Suzy, who got her hands on duct tape and would ‘fix’ Tenna until Spamton got home and had to do twice the work for half the thanks.
Tenna’s infatuation with the kid was grating on Spamton's nerves. He’d spent his whole life working alone, and while he made an exception for Tenna, he’d hardly make a one for a little pest, troublemaker, scamp, thief of a kid.
Spamton didn't care what his husband said. He just knew Suzy would get tired of them eventually and move on. And he’d be the first to say 'I told you so’ when she left them in the muck.
After all, no one really wanted to stick around.