Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Work sapped your energy even more now that home was so appealing. Or, not home exactly, but the little pocket within your home that allowed you to access the dark world. After accidentally finding yourself in that dream-like pocket of reality about a week ago, you'd spent very little time in your actual living space. Why stay in your living room alone watching reruns when you could spend time in the lights, music and whimsy of the dark world? 

That last argument was becoming dangerous. Why go anywhere that wasn't the dark world? Why go to work, pay bills, do anything when you could just slip away into the dark and pretend that none of that matters? With every trip you made, it became more and more difficult to convince yourself that staying would be a bad idea. The TV world was just too much fun, but if you were being honest with yourself, the entertainment wasn't the main draw bringing you back.

No, a little something, or rather, a big someone is the primary motivator for your now nightly trips to the dark world. Tenna, the charming, quirky, endearingly desperate personification of your TV had quickly taken over your thoughts and feelings after your first introduction. It was hard not to think about him after how wonderful that first encounter in the dark world was. 

After accidentally falling asleep in the green room between rounds of Tenna’s game show, and a gentle heart-to-heart between the two of you when you woke, you’d eagerly allowed him to guide you through a second board. While he seemed to reach a smooth kind of ease while the cameras were rolling, you could also tell that he was trying extremely hard to impress you; telling more jokes, checking in with you often, going all out on every quiz and challenge. He didn’t even know the half of how well it worked, how each time he leaned in to get your answer to a question your heart would pick up, or each time he flashed you a smile you had to physically hold yourself back from heaping praise on him (that was for later, not live TV). When he wrapped up the board and brought filming to an end, you didn’t deny yourself the pleasure of telling him how wonderful he did, watching the absolutely delicious way his entire demeanor seemed to swell with pride at every kind word. 

“I know I should be used to hearing these things, considering how many fans I have,” he’d warbled, his tone not entirely convincing you that those fans were as numerous as he suggested, “but I don’t know if it’ll ever be any less thrilling coming from you. There’s really no ratings as important to me as yours.”

“Well, they’re the same from me as before. S-rank, five stars, tens across the board!”

You’d given him a huge grin and two thumbs up, which he’d returned, along with a subtle pink glow across the cheeks of his display. He was too damn cute. With a pleased chuckle, he’d placed a hand on your upper back and began to walk you offstage. You could tell he was consciously taking small strides to avoid pushing you, but was trying to play it off casual despite the way he was practically shuffling his feet. 

“I, uh, don’t suppose you’d want to stay for another board?” he’d asked as you entered the wings, his fingers drumming gently on your back.

Oh, how you’d been tempted to agree. Not only did you enjoy the boards themselves, love how they made you feel capable and important, but Tenna himself had this kicked puppy demeanor that made you want to agree to all his suggestions. On top of the fact that you found him unbearably attractive and sweet. 

“I… Well, yeah, I do want to, but…” You’d slowed your pace, forcing him down to what must have been barely a crawl by his standards. “I’m fading fast, Tenna.”

His hand tensed on your back, and a sharp, high-pitched noise rang out from his speakers.

“Fading how? Are you feeling alright? Fading is no good, no good at all, now I’m not fading myself, but vibrant colors are important and if you’re not feeling vibrant yourself then I will do all! I! Can! To make sure you feel-” And there he went again with the rambling, that well-intentioned jumbled mess of words that didn’t leave much room for you to cut in, but you’d enjoyed the way he knelt down, placed his hands on your shoulders, and searched your face for… something. Burn-in, maybe?

“Tenna, I’m fine,” you’d assured him, hushing him gently with a touch to his shoulder. “Fading as in tired. Sleepy. You caught me napping earlier, but I’m still not exactly feeling rested. Don’t misunderstand, this has been wonderful, you’ve been wonderful, but this is also usually the time where I’m passed out recovering from work. My body is starting to protest.”

“Ah,” he nodded, relief and a slight twinge of disappointment in his expression. “Well! As much as I would love to have you stay, I… I suppose a good host should make sure his guest gets home safely. And I am nothing if not the best host, on television and otherwise!”

With that self-reassurance, he’d risen up again and replaced his hand on your back, guiding you through the wings, the green room, and past a guard through an imposing door. Past it, a field of snow. Chilly. Beautiful. He’d stopped a short distance into the tundra.

“This is as far as I go.” He’d smiled softly, gazing past you. You could tell that he was avoiding eye contact, hoping you wouldn’t notice the nervous wobble in his grin. But you did. “It’s no good for me to get too close to the edge. But if you just head a little further, there should be a door, a huge one, big enough for even me! You can’t miss it. That, um. Should take you home…”

His screen had dimmed a little, his voice a bit less boisterous than usual. It’d been hard to tell if he was trying to make you feel bad on purpose, but you’d reasoned that no, he didn’t have to tell you how to leave if he really was set on keeping you here. You just felt a twinge in your chest because he seemed so reluctant to see you go. And, a little deeper, you knew you were gonna miss the guy too.

“...Hey, Tenna?” you ventured, earning a low “ hmm? ” in reply as he’d turned to face you. For a moment you’d almost lost your nerve, almost decided to head out then and there to avoid any complications, but you just hadn’t been able to leave things hanging so openly like that. With a gentle tug on his tie to beckon him down (which had gotten you a little noise of excitement as a bonus), you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him close. There'd been no hesitation on his part to return the embrace.

The two of you had lingered like that for a moment, and it was only after a bit of enjoying the contact that you’d realized how awkward your positions were. You hung on tightly on your tiptoes, and he was bent at the waist in a way that could not have been comfortable. With an awkward chuckle you released him, smoothed his shoulder pads, and stepped back a little.

“Tune in again soon?” he’d asked, still leaning over you. 

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Haha! YES! Mmm, that is, well. Yes, next episode, same time. It'll be a doozy! Don't miss it!” 

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.” You'd leaned up to sneak a quick kiss to his cheek, then turned to leave, knowing that you may find reasons not to go quite yet. Still, you didn't hold yourself back from glancing over your shoulder as you walked towards the darkness. You'd caught Tenna rising to his feet, looking a bit crestfallen, but his expression brightened when he caught you looking.

“Don't you worry about me, sweetheart!” he called, waving as you retreated. “I’ll just be here! Waiting in intense anticipation. Miss you already!”

You’d giggled fondly, your heart full with a mix of endearment and longing, then slipped through the massive gilded doors back to the light world.

☆☆☆

You’d returned the next day, admittedly a bit sooner than the “same time tomorrow.” Could anyone really blame you? Despite heading home to rest, your mind had simply raced as you lay on your couch, staring at the powered-off television. After an awful night’s sleep, work had simply ground your gears, unable to stomach the mundanity of it all after last night. Which was real, it had to be. It had to be, because if it wasn’t then you had some really embarrassing feelings for an inanimate object and- GODDAMMIT you had to get back home.

The day ended after what felt like years, and you’d rushed home in a very not desperate tizzy to search for that dark corner that would let you back in and prove you weren’t crazy. The darkness welcomed you like a warm embrace. And shortly after, Tenna had welcomed you into his office in a similar manner.

“Superstar! You’re back!” he celebrated, sweeping you up into a hug against his chest that left your feet dangling and your breath stolen. “Of course, I knew you would be, I trust you with all the wires and electricity and all the other junk inside me, and, let’s be real here, how could you stay away after yesterday? After the best episode of TV Time in recent memory and after we… Aha- ha! After you… Well! You were there, no need for a recap.”

He’d been flustered once again, tugging at his collar and grinning lopsidedly, blushing just enough to remind you that last night was real, all the games and fun and feelings associated with it. After setting you down he had animatedly begun proposing how that night’s show would go, how you would just adore the challenges (even if he wasn’t quite sure yet what they’d be) and- And you’d gently cut him off.

“Tenna, is it really a good idea for showbiz to have the same contestant on two nights in a row?”

A moment of silence. A staticky noise of thought. More silence. You’d started to feel a little bad when he brought a hand to his mouth and hummed, furrowing his brow. 

“That’s not to say I wouldn’t love to do more, you know that I had an incredible time yesterday-”

“No worries, none at all! You’re right, of course. Variety is what it’s all about, variety and a solid formula. The formula we have is perfect,” he’d glanced at you for affirmation, which you gave with a smile and a nod, “but yes! Even if you are my perfect contestant, that wouldn’t be fair of me to rely completely on your star power. Hmm, lots to consider!”

He'd sat back in his chair to ponder, then seemingly noticed that he left you standing.

“Starting with getting some extra seating in here! Good ness, I'm just awful, leaving you stranded like that. I'll add it to Mike's to-do, but for now, hmm. Would you want to..?” he held out his hands invitingly, shifting a little in his chair. He's just too much. Too earnest, too excited, too good at making you feel like you're special and important. The way he's still bashful after you'd showered him with kisses just last night, he didn't seem to realize how damn endearing it was to watch him melt.

“I would want to,” you agreed, stepping close enough that he could reach down and lift you into his lap. Settled there, you’d leaned into his chest and gazed up at his face, watched him tap the corner of his frame as if in deep thought. You’d found yourself flooded with not-so-useful thoughts of how you’d like to kiss that pout from his screen, or how you wouldn’t mind terribly if this chair remained the only one in his office. When he’d suddenly tilted his face down to look at you, you flushed, realizing he’d caught you staring.

“I’ve got it!” he’d exclaimed, pressing down on your shoulders with just a bit too much force in his excitement. “You’re always full of such wonderful ideas. Sure, we can’t have you on the show all the time, but we could get your mind! Haha!”

And since, you’d been working with Tenna on the brainstorming portion of production. He’d suggested the role of producer to you, but relented after you worried about how it might look to long-time employees if you showed up and suddenly took a big shot job like that one. And besides that, you could admit to yourself that spending time with Tenna was the biggest reason for coming to the dark world, not spending time at a table of executives. No, it’d be much easier if you volleyed ideas with him, wouldn’t it? He’d agreed wholeheartedly. 

When you’d returned the next day, he had a uniform of sorts for you, consisting of a white button-down, black pants, a vest the same bright (tacky) red as his own jacket, and a yellow bow-tie. Not your usual style in the slightest, but you just couldn’t turn it down when he insisted it’d make you look so official! When his reaction to seeing you in it was to clasp his hands in front of his face, doing a terrible job of hiding a massive grin and pleased giggle, you couldn’t help thinking that it made the two of you look official. Still, it fit well, and his attention was nice, so you humored him. You’d manifested into the dark world in the uniform from then on. 

Your time together from here on out consisted of eccentric brainstorming sessions in his office, though they were anything but conventional. Tenna seemed to be a believer in the creative process to a degree which you’d never seen before. Sure, he’d occasionally show up with pictures, a pen and pad, or a corkboard for planning, he also enjoyed physically expressing his ideas. Anytime you made a suggestion he found particularly inspiring, he seemed incapable of holding back from twirling, dancing, jumping, or hugging, going on and on about how he doesn’t know how the show ever went on without you, then waving away your insistence that it’s because he’s a wonderful performer with a blush and loud, flattered laughter.

 Truthfully, a lot of your ideas came from movies too modern to be played on his channels or videos on the internet, but you would never tell him that. You made sure to only suggest concepts that weren’t too modern or gaudy, challenges that would make Tenna look good and give him room to comment and quip and work the audience. He didn’t like every idea, sometimes letting you down gently with a “hmm!” or a “what a concept! Certainly a concept,” but more often than not he would furiously jot down what you said onto a piece of paper with a grin and soft mutterings of “mhmm, yes, wonderful!” 

The familiar scene unfolds again tonight as Tenna shows you last night’s episode, gushing about the ratings, and how the audience had just eaten up all of your suggested segments. 

“TV Time has never been bigger! The critics have been- Well, not exactly silenced, but muffled at the very least. Like smothering them with a pillow! And with you as the brains behind this operation, they’ll never come up for air!”

He gets a good cackle out of you at that one, as well as a slight look of concern.

“Tenna, that’ll kill them.”

“Good,” he grins, baring those fangs you like so much.

“Stop that, you big dumbass,” you scold, trying to swat at his shoulder but only being able to reach his chest. You settle for flicking that gaudy little TV pin on his left breast. “No killing anyone.”

“Hey, now, let me enjoy this,” he laughs, fixing the pin. “The ratings are a fickle mistress, and it’s been a while since they’ve been this! Good! So thank you.”

It’s nice to see him so happy, even if you don’t completely understand what exactly the “ratings” are. Are there actual networks and audiences outside of his studio watching and giving opinions on his show? Is it just generally how well television is being received? You’d initially thought that they hinged on you and your enjoyment, but the fluctuating scores since you’d started coming disproved that theory. As far as you were concerned, every episode had been wonderful (though you could admit your bias on that end). The fact that the ratings didn’t seem to come just from you, the only one who really watches your TV, raised a few questions for you.

“Just to refresh, you're… my CRT, right? Not the embodiment of the, I dunno, idea of all CRTs?”

“That would certainly be a lot of pressure!” He kneels next to you, smiling toothily in a way that is clearly purposeful. “Not that I wouldn't be the prime choice for such a position, but no, I am not the ambassador for any and all CRTs. I'm happy to just be yours.”

And there he goes again, saying things that make your heart flutter without batting an eye(?) about it. While it doesn’t really clear up any confusion about who or what the ratings were, you don’t care, not when he’s close enough to reach out and grab, and definitely not when he’s purposely flashing his canines and clearly hoping you’ll say (or maybe do) something about it. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said it isn’t working.

“Is it workplace appropriate if I say that I’m happy you’re mine, too?” you ask, teasing just a little and leaning on his knelt knee. His antennas twitch a little, and his smile loses the toothiness as you get closer.

“Oh, you aren’t my employee, so uh. Don’t worry about any of that!” he gushes, sitting completely on the floor and gently placing a hand on your back to draw you in closer. “And we don’t even have an HR department here. Besides that, I like hearing it.”

The HR comment is a little concerning, but not enough to distract you from the fact that you’re up against his chest now. You wrap a hand around his tie, tugging until his screen is close enough to your face to hear the buzz. A soft popping sound comes from his speakers, like he’s choking back noises of excitement.

“You like to hear what? That I’m glad you’re mine?” He bites his lower lip. “That I love your show?” He brings his free hand to cup your cheek. “That being here with you is by far the best part of my day?” He’s putty in your hands now. “Because all of it is true. You’re doing amazingly. I’m so happy to be here with you.”

You’re laying it on a little thick, you know that, but Tenna isn’t much for subtlety. He likes flash and spectacle, and he seems to appreciate when you take a direct approach, especially with compliments.

“H-haha, you… You little charmer, you know just what you’re doing, don’t you?” he stammers, rubbing your cheek with a gloved thumb. “Am I truly that easy to read?”

“You’ve just got big stage presence, is all,” you assure him, because yes, he is that easy to read. 

“I know I’ve suggested just about every job position to you at this point, but with an eye for talent like that I think you really might have a future in the casting business. You just know exactly what it is about a person that-”

As adorable as his rambling is, if you let him continue he’ll offer you the whole studio’s jobs. With a fond roll of your eyes, you grab his lapels and kiss his frame, grinning when he cuts himself off. 

“Thanks, sir,” you grin, a thrill running through you when he makes a staticky noise of delight. “But if it’s all the same to you, I like the position I’m in now.”

It’s so delicious to watch him fall apart like this, display covered in a deep ruddy blush, smile wobbly as he attempts to bite back noises despite the way they come from his speakers. And as fun as it is to tease him, you know what you want.

“Hmm! Yes, you- You do! Did you mean position as in. In the studio. Or!” He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Either way, I agree. Wholeheartedly!”

His hand on your back moves a little higher, hesitantly urging you closer, and that’s enough of a tell for you to be a bit bolder with the placement of your kisses. You tilt your head to avoid his nose, lift one hand to cup the corner of his frame, and press your lips to his. A hum leaves you as that familiar fuzzy warmth connects, a soft electric sensation that heightens every kiss into something exciting on multiple levels. He kisses you back with desperate sweetness, your nose bumping his screen as he tries to get closer than you already are. His hand on your cheek slides to the back of your head and gently tangles in your hair. It’s large enough to maneuver you any way he might please, but judging by his pleased sighs and the way his lips quirk upwards against your own, he’s happy to let you lead. 

“You- Hmm, wow, I- Is this good? Am I-?” he gasps between kisses. You burst out in giggles against his mouth, pushing on his chest with fond exasperation.

“Not even kissing can get you to stop talking, huh?” you laugh, moving your hands to either side of his screen, wishing you could squish his face and watch him blink up at you. The sheepish smile you get instead is close enough. “You just love to hear me say it, hmm?”

“Can you blame a guy?” he asks, one finger scritching gently at your scalp.

“Shut up,” you whisper fondly, leaning in again. He happily complies.

Chapter Text

Tenna sits very, very still. Not a state of being that he was accustomed to, but one that he can do well at when required. And this situation definitely requires a gentle, or perhaps nonexistent touch. Even with how much his fingers were itching to move, to reach out and- No! He is committed to your comfort, happy to stay motionless and quiet for as long as you’re asleep. 

After that delightful and admittedly distracting conclusion to the earlier brainstorming session, you’d laid out across his chest to finish watching the latest episode of TV Time!, which he’d been playing on a previously-forgotten CRT screen on the wall of his office. Watching the episodes together had become tradition since you began helping him with making the challenges, though inside, Tenna really wished you could be there to watch in person. Still, hearing you laugh at his jokes after the fact is like the rush of the audience all over again. With you tucked into his lap as he leaned against his desk, your laughter shaking your shoulders softly, he felt something akin to the warm fuzz of static spreading in his chest. As he’d rambled over the credits, praising every idea of yours he’d implemented, going on about how you really were the star, even off-screen, he’d glanced down to see that you had dozed off against him. 

He felt a strange mixture of content and disappointment, still struggling to fully convince himself that it wasn’t a sign of failure to entertain on his part when you fell asleep. A part of him wanted to nudge you awake, poke your cheek until you opened your eyes and were ready to chat and laugh with him again, but he’d hate to disturb you from your sleep for a second time. Truthfully, he could tell that you’d been running on dying batteries for a few nights now, and he understood that, as much as he liked your attention and company, you needed this. He tried to focus on how you’d told him that he was a source of comfort, that falling asleep with him was a sign of trust. And he could NOT break that trust, no siree, because he was a little worried that, for an old CRT like him, sturdiness and consistency was all he had left. 

So he sat very still, vowing silently to himself to not let anything rouse you until you were ready to wake up on your own. Hours went by. It’d been a long, long while since he’d just sat and done nothing like this, maybe he’d never done it at all before, and it gives him time to think. Think about how the studio is doing without him delegating and checking in on each task. Probably fine, aside from the few duties assigned to the pippins (those little moochers were probably gambling again, without him this time). No matter… Well, maybe a little matter. He frowned a bit at the thought that the studio would be fine without him. They wouldn't! They need him!

He sighs softly, grimacing as he catches his thoughts spiraling like this. Not productive, Tenna, nor entertaining, and what's the point if it's not at least one of those? He glances down to you, the way you’re curled against his chest, and, ah, there it is. That’s the point. Not productive, per se, certainly not entertaining, but Tenna finds that it’s enjoyable all the same. Time evaporates into a hazy fog as Tenna finds himself slipping into a neutral state as well, static frosting over his screen as he goes idle. 

He’s not sure how long has passed when he feels you start to stir, his face reappearing on his screen. You stretch against his chest and make low sounds of waking, bringing him completely back into the moment to drink in the view. It’s familiar for him to watch you wake up, but having you in his arms is new, and the emotions he feels are bigger, better, and… softer. 

“Welcome back,” he smiles, smoothing your hair back so he can watch you blink away the sleep from your eyes. 

“Hmm, Tenna?” you croak, and he bites back a smile at how silly you sound.

“That’s my name, feel free to wear it out,” he quips, adjusting your tie with two fingers, relishing in your confused expression. “Or just wear it in! Looks great everywhere.”

You just blink up at him, mouth slightly ajar, and your lack of reaction to that incredible joke makes his stomach sink just a bit. With a very not-nervous tug on his antenna, he grins wider. Sell the joke, never let your audience sense fear.

…Why aren’t you laughing.

You blink at him again, your brows furrowing, then gasp and shoot forward, grabbing his jacket lapels in tight fists. He squeaks in surprise; your grip is more aggressive and desperate than usual which does NOT make his face heat up and his chest feel funny-

“Tenna! What time is it?” you gasp, glancing around the room as if searching for a clock. He sputters for a moment, also searching the room even though he knows there is nothing that will help him. He barely holds himself back from saying um, TV time? because that would be stupid and you look rather serious at this moment and that would be stupid.

“Oh, no no nonono…” you whine, scrambling up and off his chest, out of his lap, and stumbling a little as you get to your feet. He quickly pushes himself up from against his desk and steadies you with a hand on your back. 

“Whoa, whoa, what’s all the commotion about?” he asks, your anxiety infectious and seeping into his own tone. “Is everything-”

You push away from his hand and run out of the room. 

Despite being physically much too weak, that push absolutely floors him. What did he do wrong? He hates to see you upset, and hates even more to see you upset at him. Did he wake you before you were ready? As far as he can tell, you were already stirring when he began to move, but maybe he was being presumptuous. Were you embarrassed to have fallen asleep on him like that? Or angry? Or-

Tenna scrambles to his feet and pushes through the door after you. For such a comparatively small person, you moved quickly; he couldn't see you in the immediate hallway. For a moment he considers not pursuing you, thinking that he must've really bungled it now to have you sprinting away like this, but no, Tenna is fairly certain about where you're headed. Maybe if he hurries he can get there in time to apologize profusely before you solidify your decision to throw him out for… whatever horrible thing it is that he did just now.

He sets off at a brisk jog, not wanting to alarm any employees he may bump into on his way (though they’ve probably seen him far more frantic, if he’s honest with himself). He moves as fast as he dares through the hallways past the dressing rooms, into the green room, and through the door out to the edge of the dark world. 

Footprints in the snow. He was right.

“H-hey, wait!” he pleads, setting off at a full sprint now, catching a glimpse of your retreating back. You’re past the point where he can follow, the darkness fuzzying the edges of your form. His display starts to flash between his face and an error screen. He calls out your name, voice breaking, skipping, and repeating like a decayed tape recording as he stands at the edge of the darkness. You turn for a moment, and Tenna can barely make out your expression in the haze, but he’d swear that it’s pained.

You turn away again, and sprint the rest of the way into the dark. You’ve left. He softly mutters a string of words that would get him immediately pulled off the air were he live. He’s shaking. 

Tenna stands there in the snow for a moment, running through all possible explanations and outcomes in his mind. It goes rather quickly. Explanation: he upset you so bad that you got up from his lap and ran as fast as your legs could go all the way out of the dark world. Outcome: you were going to unplug him and throw him onto the curb and replace him with some skinny little LED flatscreen who wouldn’t know quality entertainment if it slapped them in the face.

This is bad. He starts to pace back and forth, wearing a divot in the snow. What should he even do? He can’t tell the studio about this, everything would start to fall apart. Even if he’s pretty certain that they’re all doomed anyway, he has to prolong the charade as long as he can. But, dammit, he’s in no condition to film like this; frantic, screen on the fritz and antennas all bent out of shape and oh, mama, he’s getting smaller, too. He can’t be seen at all, not without raising some serious suspicion.

Well. He’s aired enough spy movies in his time to know how to sneak around.

☆☆☆

He’s spotted the moment he tries to slip back into the green room. 

Unfortunately for his espionage dreams, Tenna is still huge, even shrunk down a little. A group of pippins and shadow guys wave from the couch where they were chatting, see his sorry state, then put their heads down and begin to murmur quieter. 

“Ah- Aha HA! Hello to all of you, too! I’m doing GREAT!” 

He gives up on sneaking and resolves to just walk back to his office. Along the way he passes several of his employees, who all begin a greeting, suddenly take in his appearance, then say nothing and let him go on as they hurry by.

What the HELL? Was no one going to ask him how he was doing? Or what was wrong? Not that he’d answer them, he had to keep all this to himself for now, but still! 

He reaches his office in a worse mood than before, wallowing in how he alone bears the burden of knowing that this world would be coming to an end soon, and how he is also probably responsible for it, somehow. He wishes he had some kind of chaise so he could flop down and sigh dramatically enough to express his emotions in this moment, but he doesn’t, so he settles for clambering into his desk chair, tucking his knees up to his chin, and spinning in circles. 

After long enough spinning and stewing, he makes a quick call to Mike, telling him to prepare a rerun for today, then pulls a pen and pad of paper out from the drawers of his desk. He has some final thoughts he needs to get down before you throw him out of your place.

He doesn’t know how long he spends writing, but he does know that it’s way too long to have only written what he’s written. In a bulleted list he has written down,

• Mike is in charge, if this place can even FUNCTION without me!!!
• Nobody touches my stuff except in loving reverence
• I’M SO SORRY

He frowns, chucking the pen across the room with a loud wail of anguish. What was he even doing!! Who would read this when the whole studio collapsed in his absence? He crumples the paper in his fist and stands up on his chair (which he now had room to do thanks to his diminished size), preparing to tear the sheet into little bits- THE DOORKNOB JIGGLES. 

“AH- Uh, occupied!” he calls out, scrambling to get down from his perch. It goes a little too well, and the chair rolls backwards, tips, and sends him crashing to the ground with a sharp cry. The door slams open, and Tenna feels his cheeks burn as he stares at the ceiling, knowing that an employee is looking at him lying on the floor like a dead cockroach.

“Please leave, and/or you’re fired?” he mutters, shrinking more. Rapid footsteps approach. Yeah, he’s gonna have to fire them.

“So is it and, or or?” you ask, leaning over him with a look of concern. OH, oh YOU ask. He startles, rolling over and jumping to his feet, growing back to full height as joy floods his systems. He laughs, whooping with ecstasy, and grasps your shoulders to confirm that, yes! You are real! You’re back! And he’s not out on the curb!

“Neither! I- You’re! WOW! You’re here! I mean of course you are, you-” You don’t look so good. Tenna’s thoughts trail off as he takes in the state of you, the dark circles under your eyes, your defeated posture, the way your smile doesn’t quite bleed into the rest of your expression. “You look like you’ve had a not-so-fantastic day, huh, hot shot?”

“What gave it away?” you ask, smiling wryly, then bring a hand to your forehead with a weary sigh. “But yeah. Not great. Mind if I sit?”

He shakes his head, gesturing for you to take his chair… which is on the floor, right. He stands it back up with a nervous chuckle, then offers you his hand to step on as a boost to get up. He squats down in front of you, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his face up with his hands. Even though you’re back, he still feels like he’s crouching on eggshells, so to speak, unsure of whether he’s forgiven for this morning, so he focuses his full attention on you.

“First of all, I just want to say that I’m so, so sorry for rushing out on you earlier. I know it was super sudden, but there was nowhere to check the time and I really didn’t mean to fall asleep on you but you were just… Well, I haven’t been sleeping too great the past few nights and-” You take a deep breath and bury your face in your hands, dragging them slowly down your cheeks before continuing. “I had work today. And when I realized I’d fallen asleep, I needed to run out of here so I could get ready. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to stop and explain all of that, but I had this sinking feeling that I was already late…” Another deep breath, an exhausted exhale. “I was right. And that really sucked, but I’m still just so sorry for dipping out. I hope I didn’t cause you too much stress?”

“What? Stress, me? No no no, I was sure there was a perfectly good reason for all of this,” he assures you, so very convincingly. So convincingly that you laugh softly and mutter another sorry . “Hey now, I mean it! No apologizing from my MVP, okay? I had a very productive day of. Hm. Planning? Yes, planning! I was just so filled with ideas from the last time we talked that I spent today writing them all down. Enough ideas for a whole new season!”

“Oh, I see. Is that what that paper you were holding was?” Your eyes crinkle in a way that someone less versed in performing would think means you don’t believe him. 

“That paper?” Oh, his final will and meltdown. “Ha ha, yes! But, really, enough about my day. Are you sure you’re doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Got a write-up for being late, and had a conversation about my work quality as of recently… I don’t really wanna talk about it. Kinda want a distraction right now.”

You look at him with tired eyes and a weak smile, and Tenna swears he sees a twinge of guilt in your expression. He’s struck with a deep desire to make you smile, a sense of purpose somewhere tangled in his wires. With a hand on your knee, he beams at you.

“Well you’re in luck, because I am extremely good at being distracting! What are ya feeling, darling?” he asks enthusiastically, starting to flick between channels and programs on his face. “Game show? Drama series? Cartoons? Reality TV? Anything you want, I got! Just say! The! Word!”

You laugh, and his chest swells with joy and pride at the sound. Sure, you still look tired, but you’re smiling. At him. Better than before!

“I know it’s not your usual wheelhouse, but I was thinking maybe some live entertainment?” you suggest, softer and gentler than your usual teasing. “I just… I could use a hug.”

“Oh!” Tenna breathes, his screen turning back into his face. “Well, isn’t that just… Just the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard, folks? I- Yes, of course, I can do that for you, too.”

He scoots a little closer, shuffling on his knees, then gathers you in his arms and hugs you close to his chest. You return the embrace with a soft exhale, and Tenna feels a pleasant warmth in his chest as you sag against him, burying your face in his neck. His hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. He hopes that he’s doing this right. While he’s held you before, he’s still a little unsure of how much pressure is appropriate for your soft lightner body, how much hits that range of pleasantness before becoming uncomfortable. The low hum that vibrates against the crook of his neck helps to assuage some of that worry. So he continues, glad that your face is tucked away so you can’t see the downright drippy smile he’s wearing. He loves all your attention, kissing and otherwise, but it’s nice to feel so completely trusted.

That feeling morphs into something a little warmer as he feels you breathe hot air onto his neck, then seal your lips gently around the spot in an open-mouthed kiss. His antennas twitch in surprise, and his mouth falls open as a high-pitched ringing comes from his speakers. You must’ve really been looking for somewhere to do this, considering most of his neck is covered by his high collar and tie, and WOW, the thought that you sought this out makes him feel quite! Special! Wanted, desired, even. He laughs, the sound a little like a skipping tape, and leans his head to the side. 

“Mmm, is this okay?” you murmur against him, unbearably soft and sweet. Every time you ask him something like this, he’s so tempted to volley the question back, fishing for praise and compliments, but right now it's about you.

“S-spectacular!” he exclaims, maybe a bit too enthusiastic for the direction you’re taking it, but oh, he can’t help himself. “You always know what to do, you’re so- Hoo, WOW!”

You’ve started to kiss further up, moving slowly to where his neck meets the frame of his screen. 

“You weren’t wrong when you said that you’re distracting, earlier,” you confess, the tired rasp of your voice causing color to flush across the pixels of his cheeks. “You’ve been on my mind a lot. I like you so much.”

He shudders, feeling like his insides are melting, and all the while you just keep kissing up closer to his mouth. 

“The- ahem- the feeling is mutual, hot shot!” he warbles much too loudly. “But uh, hmm! If you wanted to. Go further into detail? A- a little exposition for the audience?”

And here he goes, begging you to tell him everything you think and feel about him. He knows, he really knows that it’s a little pathetic, but when you just smile and lean further against him, he can’t seem to find the motivation to stop.

“At work,” you elaborate, your lips now pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been eating away at my thoughts. Your jokes, your eccentricities. The way you smile when you see me. How nice it is to be close to you, held by you.” You plant a kiss on his mouth now, a real good one that makes him shiver. “You’ve got me making silly mistakes, getting caught daydreaming. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Before he has a chance to reply, you dive back in, indulgent and hungry and needy and all the things that he worries are too much in himself but he finds so wonderful about you. Your fingers wrap gently around the edge of his frame, scritching ever so slightly on the outsides. He whines into your mouth, no longer concerned with keeping up any fronts. He likes having all your attention to himself. He likes that you want him. He likes you , so very much. 

You just get more and more insistent, your tongue probing past his lips to mingle with his own, tracing along his teeth and giggling when it once again finds his canines. He’s tempted to return the enthusiasm you’re showing, to dip you backwards and kiss you positively silly, but he worries that his tongue might be too big. He doesn’t want to choke you. Besides that, sitting back and letting you lead is like feeling you praise all the things you like about him. He smiles against you.

When you finally come up for air, Tenna can’t seem to recall what it was you asked him before. Something nice, playful, probably. Something about him. Oh, yes, that’s what it was.

“Um. Whoops?” he answers, smoothing his antennas back with his free hand. Your lips close in a slightly confused pout (which looks very cute on you, he thinks), and you tilt your head a little before he sees understanding dawn on your face.

“Whoops, huh?” you chuckle, then sag against him as you take on a more melancholy look in your eyes. “Nah, the whoops is on my end. I… I probably can’t stay all that long tonight. I should get going…”

“Get- Whoa hey wait a moment!” He grabs your shoulders with a grip that may be a little too firm in his desperation. “You just got here! We haven’t even played any games! Or, or come up with any great ideas or…”

He’s struggling to come up with reasons to keep you here. So far, it hasn’t taken all that much. Just spending time with him has been enough, and that has been so! Wonderful! But maybe it’s made it so that he’s not trying hard enough anymore, not putting in enough effort. 

“Why… Why do you want to leave?”

“ Oh, Tenna, ” you whisper, almost to yourself. He leans in closer, hanging on your every word. “I don’t want to leave, and that’s the problem. I have responsibilities out there, in the light world. I have a job that I need, bills I have to pay. But I love it here! I love spending time with you, working with you, being a part of something that’s so big and whimsical! But I’ve been neglecting sleep to come here at night, and it’s starting to impact my work.”

“Well, you don’t even seem to like working!” he reasons, mind racing as he tries to steer you away from this direction you seem to be going. “Forget it! Just… just stay here. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. You won’t have to worry about anything, anything at all! It’ll be non-stop entertainment and leisure, I promise.”

He doesn’t understand why his offer doesn’t seem to make you any happier. In fact, you just sigh and glance away from him. Cold dread shocks his circuitry as he searches for the right words to get across how perfect he’ll make it for you, so perfect that you’ll never get tired of it. Of him.

“Tenna, tell me something,” you muse, returning your gaze to his face.

“Anything!” 

“You worry about me getting rid of you, right?” Oh, damn. Oh damn oh no he’s really done it now. “Hey, hey, hey, this is just a hypothetical. I have no plans to do that. Just… you getting taken away would remove you from this world, right? And seriously affect how the rest of the dark world functions?” He nods slowly. “Okay. Well, what would happen if someone else came in and took you away? Took everything away?”

Oh. Oh, Tenna hadn’t thought about that. He didn’t like thinking about that.

“If I stop working, stop paying my rent, electricity, all that, and just disappear, that’s what would happen. You’d lose power first. Then I’d lose my place, and someone else would come and clear everything out.”

“...Ah.”

“Yeah. So. As much as your offer really, really does sound great… I just can’t.” You take a deep breath, stroking the edge of his screen with your thumb. “And I think I’m gonna need a few days to catch up on sleep. I can’t get another infraction.”

Tenna is trying so hard not to show how disappointed he is, but his antennas droop despite his efforts. Your reasons make sense, and he knows on an intellectual level that it’s for the best. But that does nothing to ease the twisty, queasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of you being gone for several days. He’s gotten used to your presence too quickly, come to use the anticipation of your visits as motivation to get through the day. He really should keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t want you to go.”

He’s never been good at keeping quiet.

“C’mon… Don’t make this harder for me, big guy,” you plead, but you’re smiling. “I don’t want to either.”

“Sorry, sorry! You’re right, of course, as usual. Just- the studio, we’ll all miss you, and of course, me personally, I’ll be missing my best collaborator and star contestant and number one viewer-”

You cut him off with another kiss, gentler and slower than the previous one. Shorter, too, but it still eases a little bit of that sickly feeling.

“Sorry, I really gotta stop cutting you off like that.”

“NO!” That was definitely too loud. “Ah. That is. No, uh, worries. I don’t mind it, no siree!”

You laugh, and the icky feeling dissipates further.

“You’ll be okay without me for a little bit, right? Just a day or so. You’ve got this, mister big time TV host,” you assure him, and he gives you the most reassuring grin he can muster. 

“Sure, yes, of course! I’ve still got it! Though you will be missed. Very much.”

“I’ll miss you too, Tenna.”

And then your lips are on his and you’re soft in his arms and he can almost pretend that you’re not going anywhere.

Chapter Text

The minute you leave the dark world you start to second-guess yourself. Damn Tenna, being so obviously sad but trying to put on a brave face. How he ever managed to become a TV host with such a terrible poker face was almost beyond you (almost only because he was just so stupidly charming). He’d insisted on walking you to the exit once again, rambling about this and that in an attempt to make you smile, clearly tuned-in to the fact that you were still a little shaken by your day. He walked the whole way with his arm around your shoulders, slowed down to that shuffle he did when trying not to rush you. Maybe even a little slower.

You’d been so tempted to linger where the snow met the darkness, to tug him down by that gaudy yellow tie, kiss him stupid, let him pick you up and carry you back into the studio… But no, that wouldn’t be good for either of you. Tenna needed to know that he was capable of running things without you behind the scenes (it was obvious that he’d had a bit of an episode in your absence, despite his insistence that it’d all been ship-shape), and you needed to sort out how to balance work, rest, and time with Tenna. So, with reluctance, you’d taken his hands, given them a gentle squeeze and an assurance that he’s got this, and promised that you’d be back in just a few days.

He was quiet as you walked away, uncharacteristically so. So quiet that you wondered if he'd headed back to the studio already; he had always called out things to you as you left, usually goodbyes and promises to see you soon (you still felt bad about that morning's “wait!”). You didn't turn around to check until you were at the door, scanning briefly through the snow until you found that splash of red… diminished to several feet below his usual size. Like a shot to the goddamn heart. You gave one last wave that you weren't sure he saw, then slipped out the door.

Back home again, the silence is stifling. You'd grown too accustomed to the buzz and life of the TV world, a bit spoiled, maybe, by the company. The quiet makes you restless, but you left early because you need to sleep, so that's what you'll do. You trudge to your bedroom with heavy feet and crawl beneath the covers, attempting to sleep in your bed for the first time in weeks. 

…But it's hot, so you get up to turn on the fan before cozying up again. And you need some water, so you make a trip to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass, and now you're back in bed to sleep. Except that the sheets aren't tucked right, so you roll out of bed and remake it before slotting yourself in like a letter into an envelope. And you still can't sleep, tossing and turning and messing up the nicely made sheets and TO HELL WITH THIS IT'S TOO QUIET.

You gather your blankets around your shoulders like a cape, tuck a pillow beneath your arm, and shuffle back out to the couch to lie down. You stare at the TV, at Tenna, and debate whether to turn something on. This was supposed to be a break from rushing straight to Tenna every night, but really it was just that you needed to sleep better. And nothing worked better than the gentle drone of the TV to make a space feel comfortable and sleepworthy. So you reach for the remote and- and you can’t find it, damn. You get up from your sleeping place for the last time (you promise yourself, no more stalling), and run your thumb along the bottom edge of the TV’s casing until you feel the power button in the dark. With a gentle press, he whirs to life playing a game show. Just what you’re looking for.

“Sorry, Tenna,” you whisper, giving the top of your TV an affectionate pat. “Hope you don’t mind helping me out a little more.”

As you settle back onto the couch, you wonder if Tenna is watching right now. You know he can see or perceive the light world to an extent, know that he has memories of you watching, sleeping, playing video games, but it’s unclear how often he’s tuned in, so to speak. He’s frequently surprised by the exact time of your visits to the dark world, for example, despite the way that you pass by him every time you arrive home. Maybe he’s filming an episode right now, hosting TV Time! with that smooth ease that he does. Or maybe he’s sat in his office, watching you watch him, your face illuminated in his dim glow. Whatever it is, you find yourself imagining the show as his voice, blabbering about his day, his show, anything, and your eyelids grow heavy. 

“G’night, bud,” you murmur, sleep finally taking you.

☆☆☆

You make it to work on time. As opposed to the frustrated and stern scolding you'd received yesterday, today nobody batted an eye. Those were your two settings here, in trouble or invisible. While it was definitely the better of the two to be invisible, you miss the fanfare you receive in the dark world. You miss the lively music that plays in the hallways of the studio, the camaraderie between the employees there (littered with drama and gossip as it was), and of course being welcomed into the arms of-

Stop . Stop, stop, stop. No thinking about him on the job. That's what this self-imposed break is for, you need to start managing your sleep and do a good enough job at work to make your visits less of a strain on your overall well-being. Sort out what you have to do now so you can mess around with Tenna-

And you're doing it again, daydreaming when you're supposed to be working. Not even accurately this time either; in truth you consider your time with Tenna to be more meaningful than just “messing around.” Which was why you had to buckle down and strap in for a focused shift. Make sure that you'd been telling him the truth.

You give your cheeks a good slap, get a weird look from a coworker, and you're ready.

The workday passes without incident, boring and tedious as it is. You manage to keep your thoughts focused and away from you-know-where and you-know-who for the most part, except during lunch where you allow yourself an admittedly very indulgent daydream… Until a coworker asks if instant noodles are really good enough to have you smiling like that and you have to make some half-assed excuse for yourself.

The end of your shift comes crawlingly slow, the last hour slogging by like its feet were submerged in molasses. You walk similarly out the door when it finally passes. Your trip home isn't as eager as it has been, dampened by the knowledge that home is where you'll be stopping, but anywhere that isn't work is ideal. You enter your place with a world-weary sigh, perhaps a bit dramatic, but truly expressive of how you’re feeling at this moment.

“Hell of a day, Tenna,” you mutter as you pass through the living room, running a hand across his top surface and frowning when it comes away dusty. “Damn, buddy, what have I been doing? So focused on myself that I haven't given you a good clean-up in a hot minute. Wait right here.”

Why did you say that. Where would your inanimate TV even go. You shake your head, cheeks burning, as you walk to the kitchen to search for a soft cloth. Why is it so embarrassing to talk to Tenna like this? Nobody else is around, no one would know! And it is him, you know this, so it’s time to stop psyching yourself out and enjoy the closest thing to his presence you’re letting yourself get.

After digging around in a few drawers you find what you’re looking for, giving a little flourish of the cloth as you pull it out. You walk back towards your living room, cloth in hand, and crouch down in front of your TV. You give Tenna a big smile, hoping he’s at least aware of this, wanting him to feel cared for in some way even if you can’t join him in his world for a while. Starting by blowing along the top edge, you unearth a veritable cloud of dust, causing a small coughing fit as you wave it away with a hand.

“Oh man, I really let it get bad, huh? Sorry, champ,” you murmur in a low voice, then laugh. “I gotta come up with better nicknames for you, huh? Yours for me are so nice, so thoughtful. I gotta stop talking to you like a dad to his son at a little league game.”

You continue to chat with him about random things; your day, your coworkers, anything as you clear off the dust, knowing that if there’s one thing Tenna loves, it’s you talking. You gently wipe the layer of dust away, then decide that if this is bad, the rest of him could probably use some attention too. You continue with the cloth around the rest of the frame, paying careful attention to the area around the buttons. You keep it extremely gentle, the way you would trace his face with your fingers in the dark world. You find yourself imagining his face on the screen, the way his mouth would quiver at the edges of a huge smile, just soaking up your attention and care. You hope that he looks like that now, that he’s enjoying the honestly overdue cleanup.

“You're so good to me,” you muse as you shift from the frame to the screen, even gentler now to avoid denting or scratching the display. “Honestly, just perfect. So reliable, never asking for much. You didn't even tell me that I let you get dirty.” Getting to a particularly stubborn smudge, you lick your thumb and rub at the spot for a moment, then flush a little after thinking about it. “Hope you don't mind that. Though I guess it's not like I haven't literally had my tongue in your mouth… HA HA, wow this is awkward when you can't respond.”

Honestly, it's ridiculous that you're feeling like this. This has to be a new level of whipped; he can make you blush and stumble over your words without doing a goddamn thing like literally he's just sitting there. How is it easier to feel in control when he's animated and wonderful and like twice your height?

You return to your task, focusing once again on cleaning your TV set because that's what you're doing, not getting yourself worked up imagining things. You move on to his antennas, taking the cloth and running it slowly up the length of one wire, then carefully rub circles around the bulb until it gleams. Rinse and repeat for the next, and in a moment of pride for how nice he looks, you lean down and kiss the tip of the antenna, petting the top of him simultaneously. And you swear you hear white noise pick up, that soft, high-pitched humming that your TV makes when booting up. But Tenna’s not on. You bite back a grin, fairly certain that this means he’s here, he’s watching or feeling all this.

“Gotta make sure my big guy is looking shiny and new for television,” you say to yourself, playing a little dumb and not acknowledging his tell. “Almost done here, just a few last spots to touch up.”

Touch up was right. Though the actual television set just looks like his head, this is his whole being in the light world. What does it feel like for him? Is it like touching his face? Or some kind of full-body massage? You shake your head to clear those kinds of thoughts. Whatever, it’s just you cleaning your TV. 

You pop open the panel on the left side, exposing the dials that control the display. Dusty. Damn, not even the protective casing could keep him clean after how long you let it sit. You murmur a little “sorry,” then pick up the cloth. You slowly run it over and around each one, careful not to move any of them. You’d taken great care the last time to make sure the image quality was as good as it could be, and that was not a task you were eager to repeat.

“Sorry, Tenna, I’m touching that dial,” you chuckle, recalling his playful little phrase he spouted at every ad break. “Maybe we change it to don’t adjust that dial! ” Nothing but white noise. “Yeah, doesn’t roll off the tongue the same. No need to fix what’s not broken.”

Now humming his theme music, you move to the last area that needs a tidy-up. After a quick swipe of the cloth across the flap, you flip open the VCR player and take a peek inside. Empty. Checks out, you can't remember the last time you watched a tape. If you can avoid poking your fingers around in the delicate insides, you’d rather that, so you slowly run your index finger around the edge and- mhmm, dusty. If you didn’t know better, you’d think that the humming from the TV got louder. 

“Don’t get too excited, now,” you tease, letting slip that you’re pretty sure he’s present for this. The image of his face, pink and smiling and maybe a little ashamed to be caught flashes in your mind. Oh, you hope he’s tuned in. Returning to your task, you pick up the cloth again and gingerly dip it inside, careful to not nick anything important while still picking up the dust. You can no longer pretend you don’t hear the whining from the speakers.

Retracting your hand from inside, you still see a few particles of fluff floating around. No good at all; if you're gonna do this job it's gonna be thorough. A deep inhale, one last thought about what this does for Tenna, and a prompt discarding of that thought as you purse your lips and blow a cool stream of air into the VCR cavity. It works like you'd hoped, fluffy specks of dust swirling right out as you wave them away with a hand, but something unexpected accompanies your successful cleaning. Your TV briefly flickers on, still on that awful game show channel, the host shouts “WHOA!” and the screen flicks off again.

You fall back on your elbows and blink up at the once-again docile television set, mouth open in a soft expression of surprise. A half gasp half cough leaves you. Then you laugh, hard, so hard that it shakes your body and leaves you fighting for oxygen, tears streaming down your face.

“Oh, boy, I'm so- Oh god. S-so sorry, buddy,” you wheeze, crawling up to him again and rubbing apologetically along his top edge. “I swear I was just trying to clean you up a little. Hope I didn't surprise you too badly. 

“Do you at least feel squeaky clean? Brand-spankin'-new?” No more tells from Tenna. Maybe he's pouting. “Well, you look like a million bucks.”

The rest of the night is uneventful. You spend a few minutes trying to goad something more out of the TV set, wondering if it somehow was just a coincidence, but Tenna is quiet even as you jabber at him further. You give up after a bit, eat something, get ready for bed, and pass out on the couch again.

The next day of work is the same drag as usual, made slightly better by a decent night’s sleep, and slightly worse by the fact that you’re missing Tenna more than before. While it was nice to interact with him a little in the light world last night, it’s just not the same as being able to talk with him and feel him and pull on that stupid tie and-

After work thoughts. Focus.

You use the little amounts of in-between time that you can scrape up to start writing up a budget, seeing if you can make things work with less hours than you currently get. After all, with the majority of your free time spent in the dark world, there’s less expenses to be had. You can cut out most of your going-out funds, focusing on just making enough to cover rent, bills, and food. After some tweaking and thinking here and there, you have a new budget written up and a request for a permanent change in schedule written up, one that has three days of shorter shifts per week. You have little doubt it’ll get approved; this place loved to cut hours even when you actually wanted them. You slip it into your manager’s box on your way out the door, feeling lighter than before.

You spend your evening digging through a drawer in your bedroom, scrabbling around though a bunch of random junk before finding what you’re searching for; an old analog watch, the cheap but durable kind that doesn't need batteries. This old thing could be the key to balancing the dark and light world life. You readjust it so that the time is correct, strap the thing to your left wrist, and smile with a self-assured nod. Time for a little experiment.

With exaggerated care, you tip-toe into your living room. While it feels incredibly ridiculous to be sneaking around your own empty place, you really don't want Tenna knowing what you're up to, and it’s difficult to know if and when he's watching. It's better if he doesn't know, because he will almost definitely take it the wrong way and start freaking out about what he did wrong to you when it's nothing like that. With one last glance at the TV set, hoping and praying he isn't privy, you slip into the dark world.

You touch down directly next to the gilded doors separating your worlds, bathed in the darkness that Tenna isn't able to enter. While you'd usually go dashing through the slush until you reached the studio and found Tenna, this trip isn't for that. This is the most boring-ass trip that you can fathom, because you know that if you let yourself see him you won't be heading back to your world for quite a while. So you sit down in the darkness and let the experiment begin.

Eyes on the watch. Count along with it, one, two… Space out for a little while. This is just about letting some time pass. You entertain yourself with whistling, humming, drumming on your knees, anything really for a few minutes, then check the watch. Okay, that's enough time to see. You get to your feet, give a wistful glance to the snow, then complete your most dull dark world trip by exiting through the doors.

Once back home, you quickly scurry to your kitchen, glance at the watch, then back at the clock on your microwave. The times match. They match! You whoop in elation, relieved to know that time passed in the dark world is equivalent to time here, then decide to celebrate your victory with Tenna as you trot back to the living room.

“I've got it, big guy!” you cheer, kneeling in front of him and placing both hands on either side of his frame, resting your forehead against the top. “Just give me this one last night, okay? I know you're knocking ‘em dead in there.”

In your elation, you press a giddy kiss to the top left corner of the screen, and you're pretty certain he starts humming that white-noise buzz. 

Just one more night. After tomorrow, you have the day off. The whole day to do absolutely anything you want with. Let’s be real, the whole day to disappear into the dark world and catch up with Tenna. But until then, you have a day of work to get through. And one more night without him. 

You give your TV an affectionate pat, press the power, and cozy up on the couch before succumbing to sleep once again.

☆☆☆

Despite the downright acceptable amount of sleep you’re running on, you’re unfocused at work. Your mind is elsewhere, already running back home to the dark, and when a manager comes by to inform you that they’re cutting hours, you take the opportunity with no hesitation.

Out the door. Home. Straight into the darkness.

While you usually take your time to enjoy the cold, still beauty of the tundra outside the studio, today you run giddily through the snow hills. You burst into the green room with flakes clinging to your clothes, startling a few darkners who had been relaxing on their breaks. You give a quick apology before asking a shadow guy where their boss would happen to be at this moment. With a quick musical trill they point towards the main stage, and you thank them with a hug before trotting off in that direction. 

You hear Tenna before you see him. Even from the wings there’s the clear sound of loud, clanging rustling, like someone searching through a tool box, and a muffled humming. You approach quickly, intending to rush straight at him and jump into his arms the minute you see him, but actually getting a good look puts that plan on hold. With a barely-contained grin, you linger in the wings, hidden slightly behind the stage curtains while you watch.

The stage is set up like a little western town, wooden prop panels painted like storefronts hanging from the flies, but most eye-catching is your TV standing center stage. He’s bent over at the waist digging through a prop box, singing an old ad about juice that you vaguely recognize, and, oh yeah- He’s dressed in the goofiest, sexiest cutest cowboy outfit you’ve ever seen. He's got the same white button-down shirt, but now wears a bright red leather vest with tassels, yellow ascot, chaps over his pants, the biggest, yellow-est cowboy boots you've ever seen, and a red ten-gallon hat with holes for his antennas. You stifle an extremely pleased giggle with your hand while he tosses vaguely western items from the box- bottles, copper coins, a whole tumbleweed -until he finds what he'd apparently been looking for. With a whoop of success, he pulls a gold and red revolver out that you think is probably not real.

“Now then…” he mutters to himself, a cheesy southern twang tacked onto his speech. He fiddles with the extremely on-brand weapon, then whirls around and points it directly at you. “Put ‘em up!”

Caught ogling. You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so glad to see him, so pleased that he seems to be doing well after your absence. You had been a little worried that he may have spent some time spiraling again.

With a sheepish grin, you put your hands up and step out towards him onto the stage, fighting the urge to tackle him into a hug because he seems to be having so much fun in this character he’s playing. He’s grinning, clearly pleased to see you, and blushing a little (maybe because you were standing behind him staring). 

“Ah, you caught me, officer,” you play along, trying so hard not to break at how goofy you sound.

“Officer? Oh, no, partner, you’ve got it twisted.” He grins wider, fangs bared and gun still trained on you. “You’re tellin’ me you ain’t heard of Tenna the Terrible, most famous outlaw this side of the fountain?” 

“Ohhhhh,” Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh. “Now that you mention it, I’ve seen a poster here and there.”

“Knew ya woulda. Now empty those pockets and gimme all ya got!”

The level of ridiculous you feel is getting high enough to bubble over. As fun as it is to entertain Tenna in his cowboy fantasy, you really just wanna get him alone and tell him the good news. Still, fighting the urge to burst his bubble, you flip your pockets inside out.

“Sorry, Mr. The Terrible, I got nothing.”

“Nothin’?” he twangs, frowning a little and leaning down to inspect for himself, close enough to poke you with his nose. “You’re wanderin’ round these parts without a single dark dollar or point? C’mon, you gotta have somethin’ for me.”

“Hmm. Well, if it’ll get that gun pointed elsewhere, I might have something…” He drops the weapon hand to his side to get a closer look at whatever you have for him, and you take the opportunity to lean in and give him the only thing you really can: a kiss. He squeaks, seemingly genuinely surprised by this, and you smile against him when he starts to return the gesture. It feels so nice to kiss his actual face again instead of the cool screen back home, and you tilt your head to keep it going before a very flustered Tenna pulls away and points behind you.

“Hey!” he calls out, and you turn to follow his finger to one zapper respectfully pretending not to have seen, alongside two pippins unabashedly pointing and snickering. “Break time! Is it break time? I think it is- Why am I asking, I’m the boss! Break time for all of you, NOW!”

You burst out in laughter of your own, cheeks burning a little at having been caught again as the offending employees file out. Absence may make the heart fonder, but damn if it didn’t make the brain more impulsive, too. With an upward glance, you see that Tenna is still fiddling with his prop, laughing dryly as a deep ruddy color spreads across his face.

“Sorry, did I actually surprise you with that?” you ask, a little more timid than before. “I thought that was what the whole improv bit was leading up to.”

“Oh! Oh, no, you- Well, yes I was surprised but that’s on me! Got a little too into character there.” He tosses the tacky little gun back to the prop box. “Was I good, at least?”

You can’t contain a grin; like the CRT playing reruns that he is, he’s just so wonderfully predictable. 

“As always,” you assure him, satisfied with the way he preens at the praise. “This outfit is great, too. Very flattering.”

“Isn’t it, though!” he agrees, doing a little (or as little as someone his size can) turn to show it off. “I always like to go as all-in as possible for a theme, you know, and my costume department is just filled with such darlings! I was a little worried that the tassels might be a bit much, but-”

Okay, it's time to cut him off. He's very cute like this, but you've missed him, dammit, and the stage is a little public for the catching up you'd like to do.

“Tenna,” you interject, and he cuts himself off mid hip-swish. “I missed you.”

☆☆☆

Back in his office (and Tenna back in his regular clothing), you relax into the familiar and much-missed warmth of Tenna’s embrace. After informing him that you had sorted out a new, more flexible schedule for the future, you’d also assured him that there would be no running out on him tonight thanks to your day off. Sat on a chaise lounge (which Tenna had insisted was a purely practical inclusion in anticipation of your return), you’re finally back in his lap as he recounts the past few days with likely exaggerated detail. 

“-so while, of course, it was a bit of an adjustment doing the planning without you and CERTAINLY not as enjoyable, I think it all managed to come together! The ratings were really up there, especially the episode from the other night- But uh, you did contribute to that one. ANYway-”

“How so?” you ask, thinking back on the past few nights spent in the light world, wondering what exactly you could’ve done that boosted the ratings on his end. You did watch TV to fall asleep, but as far as you can tell that doesn’t have much sway. You feel Tenna tense behind you, and when you turn to catch his gaze he’s pointedly looking away, cheeks flushed deeply. Well now you have to know.

“Tenna?” you prod, turning around to lean your chest on his, curiosity spiking further as he continues to avoid your gaze. “Tennaaaa… Aw, c’mon, you love showing me the episodes! I’ve been looking forward to it so much. I just wanna see how great you did, and I know you did wonderfully.”

It’s clear that he’s trying so hard not to give in, but he’s just so eager to please, eager to prove you right and show that he did do wonderfully while you were out. He finally meets your eyes, a nervous smile on his face. 

“Well you’re right of course, but your flattery is yesterday’s news!” You give him an exaggerated frown. “But who doesn’t love a rerun?”

The episode is from two nights ago. It’s much the same as the usual, though you do like that very much. You’re watching with an intense focus, hoping to catch whatever mishap or whatever happened on live television that could both boost ratings and have Tenna so flustered. After the first board is when it hits. Right after the ad break, Tenna is busy explaining what’s changing going forward into board two when his shoulders stiffen. A contestant makes a comment about it, and Tenna laughs it off with a quip to the crowd even as his posture seizes up further. As far as you can tell, nothing is causing this, and you figure that he's just messing around for the camera, but then his cheeks start to flush that color of pink you're familiar with. And then his voice starts to skip and jump, and he starts to fan himself with a hand while calling out to Mike to check the AC because WOWZA, it can't just be him making it this hot in here!

You glance up at Tenna, wondering what could've been going on, but he has one hand covering his mouth and uses the other to turn your head back to the show. You continue to watch as the Tenna from two evenings ago continues to struggle through an explanation, laughing and squirming like he's being tickled by an invisible force, and the audience is just eating it up. While you're definitely amused, you still are at a loss for what has him all worked up. That is, until he jumps a solid few feet into the air, turns away from the camera, and shouts a familiar sounding “WHOA!”

…OH! 

“OH MY GOD YOU WERE LIVE.” You clap a hand over your mouth and swing your head around to look at him, feeling an equal mixture of guilty and amused. “I swear on my life that I really was just trying to get you all clean and pretty for air. Was that when I blew into your-”

“YES! Mhmm, ding ding ding, we have a winner folks! So! Smart!” He tugs on his antennas bashfully, projected sweat dripping down his display as he puts on a syrupy smile. 

“...So where's your VCR player like thi-”

“Oh, you MINX!” he giggles, pushing you a little too hard in his embarrassment and almost sending you tumbling before you grab his sleeve. “You don’t just ask a man where his VCR player is.”

“Hmm, okay,” you relent as you right yourself, certain that you’ll see it for yourself eventually. “Sorry about the distraction on air, big guy, but the audience seemed to like it!”

His smile relaxes and so does he, lying back on the chaise lounge and taking you with him. The episode continues in the background, seemingly back to the usual after a few excuses, but neither of you are paying attention at this point. Sprawled out on his chest, idly toying with his TV pin, it feels like you’re back where you belong.

“Thank you, by the way, for giving me a good polish,” Tenna gushes, unable to let silence sit for too long. “I may have had a moment onstage, but now I feel like THE moment! Shiny, new, downright hunky doody!”

“Well I’m glad to hear it, because I think you’re one hunky dude-y yourself.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, it’s like all air has been sucked from the room. Tenna stares down at you, mouth dropped open in an incredulous gasp, silent for once in his life. Really? That’s what does it? He chatters through shows and even kisses, but one admittedly awful pickup line has him at a loss for words. You bite back a grin, flushing deeply until his chest begins to shake beneath you and he bursts into the loudest fit of laughing you’ve seen from him yet. His whole body quakes, one hand pressed to his forehead and the other gently thumping your back as he kicks his feet with delight.

“CUT!” he gasps through a storm of giggles, waving both hands in front of his face. “MIKE, hit the trap door! Slime ‘em!”

“Oh, come on! That was good!” You know it wasn’t, but it’s so nice to see him all flushed and enjoying himself that you can take a little pushback. “Give me a pass for being cheesy, it’s been a long few days without you. Light world Tenna is great, but it’s so good to be back in your arms.”

He exhales deeply, coming down from his high with a smile. His expression softens as he returns his hands to you, one on your back and the other cupping your cheek, his thumbs gently rubbing. You melt into the touch, once again grateful for how warm he is, how gentle despite his size. 

“Glad to have you back, superstar,” he agrees, an antenna twitching as you draw yourself up his torso until your faces are level. “Oh, is it time for a one-on-one interview?”

“Hell no,” you chuckle, one hand grabbing his tie and the other going to the side of his face. “You talk too much for me to find out what I really wanna know through an interview.”

And your lips are on his again, picking up where you’d left off onstage. Soft and electrifying, warm and buzzing, god, you’d missed this. As he returns the affection, you get the answers you’re looking for; he has definitely missed you just as much. His noises vibrate against your lips, soft and excited moans and whines cascading from him as if to make up for not being able to speak. You’re a little more heated with it than usual, you know it, but Tenna gives it back to you similarly, squeaking as your teeth graze his lower lip. As the kiss deepens, you reach a hand up to gently toy with an antenna, relishing in the gasp you get in return. 

“How’s this?” you ask between kisses, risking a rambling session to confirm that everything is okay on his end.

“SO! So wonderful! So nice you’re so perfect as usual I missed you dearly-” You kiss him again. He’d already assured you he doesn’t mind being cut off in this way.

You continue to rub the antenna as your tongues mingle, enjoying the way he sighs and runs his fingers through your hair in return. So gentle. So needy beneath you, humming each time your tongue runs over a canine or your hand grips his jacket a little tighter. 

You sneak a glance down at your watch only when you absolutely have to come up for air, and smile. Tenna follows your gaze.

“Wha- Uh, ahem. ” He clears his voice, heady after all the attention you’ve lavished on him. “What’s with the watch? Got someplace you need to be?”

You shake your head, sliding your left hand up and beneath his chin so it’s out of view. He deserves your full focus right now. 

“Nowhere but here,” you assure him, kissing his jaw(? frame?) then moving lower. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

☆☆☆

All the time in the world turned out to be about 28 hours. A blissfully long time to spend here, yet one that came to an end all too soon. Work still needed to be done, bills paid. And so the two of you stand in the snow once again, Tenna knelt on one knee as you embrace.

“Your pants are gonna get wet and cold,” you murmur into his shoulder.

“True!” he chirps, hugging you tighter. This guy…  

You let the hug go on way too long, certain that his knee must be freezing in the slush. He doesn’t make any move to break contact. But you have to go eventually, and so it’s with great reluctance that you pull back.

“You’ll come back, right? Tonight? Tomorrow? You’ll keep tuning in?” he asks, without the usual desperation. He knows you will, you’ve made sure of that. No, rather than his desperate, frightened need for confirmation, this is an invitation. His expression, soft and flushed, combined with the way he’s on one knee, make the question seem almost like a proposal. Your heart floods with joy, with the knowledge that he wants you coming home to him each day, and you take his hands in yours.

“Always.”