Now's Your Chance!!! Spamton x Reader

Big Dreams

You wake up to the sound of snoring.

It's a powerful sound, like the revving of an engine, then followed by a "snrk" as air is caught in a long nose and then released in a soft exhale.

You can tell before you open your eyes, but it's confirmed when you crack an eye open and see Spamton curled up against you. His back is tucked neatly against your belly. He's curled in fetal position, smiling faintly in his sleep. At some point while you were asleep, it seems he managed to open the dumpster and climb in, joining you under the blanket as he had. He's using one of your arms as a pillow, and the other is draped over him.

You hadn't considered it in your exhaustion the day before, but this was the only bed he seemed to have. It made sense that he had to crawl in next to you. Plus, you imagined, with your warmth, it must be much better than the dumpster alone. His porcelain-reminiscent skin was cool to the touch in all the places where your body heat hadn't warmed him.

Which, for you to tell, means you're drawing your hands, gently though they may be, across a sleeping man with no apparent romantic interest in you.

The moment you realize, you still your hands. You flush with embarrassment.

You chalk it up to your groggy confusion plus a measure of curiosity. After all, he is remarkably doll-like, for a living thing. Of course you're curious about his skin. It still isn't your place to touch when he isn't awake to tell you that you could, though.

You draw your arm back fully at this thought. You can't very well move the other one, as it's pinned under him, but you back away as well as you can. It's uncomfortable, but better than doing anything untoward.

The snoring stops abruptly.

Spamton looks over his shoulder, blinking bleary eyes. "Why'd you [[Moving Services Near You]]?"

You freeze. You were caught. But... he wasn't mad at you?

"It's as cold as [[User City]] in here," he grumbles, turning back and setting his head down again. 

He shifts uncomfortably.

He continues to shift, until you finally place your arm back over him.

He settles in an instant, and he's back to snoring.

You chuckle. The humor fades quickly, though, when you imagine how many nights he's spent out here in the freezing cold.

At least he has you, now. You don't mind being a space heater for the little salesman.

You're not getting up any time soon, with how comfortable Spamton looks in your arms. You have nowhere to be anyway. With this in mind, your thoughts start to wander.

And then you realize that when he had looked back at you, he hadn't had his glasses on.

You're stunned when you realize that you've never seen him without them. Those bright pink-and-yellow glasses have become a part of him, to you, just as much as those rosy cheeks are, and the fact that he doesn't wear pants. 

Oh shit. He doesn't wear pants.

He's little-spooning for you and he doesn't wear pants.

Your face turns twice as red as before. You don't try to back away this time, but you can't help yourself from twisting and turning that thought in your mind.

Eventually, you settle. If this is how he goes about in public, it probably doesn't mean anything to him. The only difference it makes for you is that his legs are a little dirtier than you would like, but so was everything about him, and at this point, so was everything about you.