Work Text:
AGAIN, direct sequel to day 6: https://archiveofourown.info/works/72423521?view_adult=true
Jongler followed, but not before turning off the low-quality connection between the screen and Shuttah. He sighed and collapsed on his side of the mattress, still naked, and he and Pluey fell asleep with Battat in the middle, to the faint sound from the screen that was glowing snow.
Or, “fell asleep”. Well, Pluey was totally knocked out. He was somehow always a wonderful sleeper. Battat and Jongler, on the other hand, turned over in bed restlessly, both hoping that the alcohol crash would come soon so they could just sleep. When you’re Tenna’s employees, and you’re Mike, and you have two partners, and you just fucked at a party, you’re exhausted out of your mind.
Eventually Jongler couldn’t take it anymore and slowly raised himself, figuring he might as well stretch or stand around or something. Or, well (say that again… George Orwell), tried to get up. Battat held him down, making faint pink circles fade onto his cheeks, although invisible in the darkness of the room. (Yes I know it’s a dark world it’s always dark. Don’t attack me)
Battat made an indistinguishable croaking noise. Jongler had no idea what it meant, but he knew one thing, and that was that Battat wasn’t going to let him get up. Being “the muscles” of the Mike operation, and being a Zapper (the biggest strongest guys in TV world), you’d think he’d be able to force himself up, but he couldn’t. Damn you Pipps…
“jnglr…” All five of those letters, plus the ellipsis, would all be small and shaking if they were in a real textbox. Jongler’s “face” burned brighter (though still invisible) at this. “You can come too.”
Battat glanced at Pluey’s arm that was still draped over his waist lightly. Reluctantly, he delicately wiggled out of the loose hold and stood up, stretching wide and rubbing his eye. Without saying a word, Jongler put his regular blue outfit on (that looked identical to his body). He liked wearing it. It felt cool. Battat stepped into his pants and slung his jacket over his shoulders.
Jongler took Battat’s hand and walked him out of the room. They squeezed through the tiny space behind the screen and out into the rest of TV World, with red carpets and a light staticky snow on all the screens.
Battat looked around. “What if someone sees us?” Jongler chuckled. “So what if someone sees us? We ain’t in dem Mike costume things, are wes?” Both of them thought back to Pluey, who wore his Mike clothes all the time. While he was sleeping, while he was working, while he was playing with yarn… all the time.
Battat said nothing more and they kept walking. Both of them were silent for a while, but it was the furthest thing from the tense kind of silence. It was an easy one, eventually broken naturally by Jongler, who asked:
“How da hell do you grip like dat?” Battat seemed confused at first.
“What do you mean?”
“Y’know. When I was tryn’t’a get up. I beat botha youse in arm wrestling every single day!! So how are you doin’dat?”
“That’s because you like winning.”
Jongler stopped and jerked his head toward Battat. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. He looked like Battat had just told him the most heartbreaking news he’d ever heard in his life (which would probably be something like “no more Marvelous Mystery Boards™).
“You don’t mean-“
“Yes.”
“YOUS BEEN GOING EASY ON US?!”
“Yes.”
“I- w- p- ! I thought Pippinsizzes was cheaters!” Jongler sputtered and tripped over the word “Pippins” (plural version of Pippins is Pippins). It seemed this was a serious matter to him. Battat didn’t reply.
“Dat’s it. You and me. Right now. Don’t hold back nothin’. I wanna beat you fair’n’square.”
Suddenly, the two of them laid down on the ground (there were no nearby surfaces to do it on) and put up their arms together. On “three”, both pushed with all they had. And sure enough, Battat won. Don’t get me wrong, it was close. Jongler got him down at a 177-degree angle at some point, and then Battat brought it back up to an even 90 before winning. His look was mischievous, as a Pippins often seemed.
“WHAT!!” Jongler yelled loudly.
“I win.” Battat rudely stuck his tongue out.
“That’s because you like winning.”
Battat froze and snapped his head toward Jongler. He looked like he was just stabbed in the chest. He looked like he had just heard the most earth-shattering news he had ever heard in his life (which would probably be something like “Tenna has just been cleaved red by blade”).
“You don’t mean-“
“Yes.”
“YOU’VE BEEN GOING EASY ON US?!”
“Yes.”
Both of them laughed at the parallel of what just happened 40 seconds ago that just happened again. Battat went it over in his head. He should have suspected this from the beginning. Zappers were massive. Battat was literally deemed “Mike’s brains” and Jongler “Mike’s muscles”. He got a little upset with himself for not seeing something like this coming.
Battat slammed his hand on the ground. “That’s it! You and me. Right now. Don’t hold back.”
They got back up, and on “three”, both pushed with all they had. Jongler did win. Don’t get me wrong, it was close. Not as close as the previous one, though. Jongler “mid-diffed” him, if you will. The two had picked that term up from something Kris’ bluebird friend would say as they power-scaled characters from videogames.
“WHAT!!” Battat yelled loudly.
“I win.” Jongler smirked, and Battat got up. Jongler followed promptly, and took his hand, and kept walking, turning around to go back to their room, confidence regained. “Zappers. We’s just… better. It ain’t no big deal. I mean, you’s way smarter than I am, so we’s even. I’m dummazza rock.”
“Yeah, you are.” Battat snorted a little. “Next thing we find out Pluey’s been going easy on the both of us.”
“Maybe you. Pluey and I beat each other up all the time. Dat’s, uh, s’post to be something that Shadowguys do all the time…? I think? Then again they’s all in love with each other.”
“Pluey included, right?”
“Uhh, yeah. He goes n’ visits ‘em all the time and everything. That means he has… 26 partners.”
Both of them laughed a little at the thought. They were mostly silent for the rest of the walk, but they’d chat a bit. Eventually, when they’d almost reached…
“Uh… Bat?”
“hm?”
“I don’t… I ain’t… feelin’ great.”
“That’s what that stuff does to you. It’s only a little before I get it too… Come on, let’s go home.”
The two of them picked up the pace a little bit, but as the crash hit Battat as well, they slowed down drastically.
“Aww shit… we have to… get back…”
Battat suddenly gained a distant face. Jongler would have, too, but he didn’t really have a face, because he didn’t have an eyes or a mouth or a nose or ears. He just… kind of… saw and spoke and ate and breathed and heard, without all that…?
When they reached, they squeezed through the narrow passage once again, and returned to find Pluey sleeping soundly on the mattress, a little more curled up than they saw him before, arm still in the same spot.
Jongler collapsed and drove his body right down into the blanket. Battat did the same, but he had to be a little careful not to land on Pluey’s arm. He tried to wiggle back into Pluey’s hold, but it was futile and he gave up on it.
The two of them fell asleep just about immediately, to the faint hum of TV static and the sounds of glowing snow. For real this time.