Now's Your Chance!!! Spamton x Reader

Conference Call

You pet Spamton's hair as you hold him. With his head against your chest, you can tell he's listening to your breathing as you otherwise lie in silence. His hair is so soft against your chin. His arms are tucked under yours as he intentionally pins himself to the loveseat under you. His tears have dried, and now he's just... close. There's something so precious to the way he buries himself in you, as if he'd fall off the world if he didn't hold on to you...

"Oh, sweet thing," you mutter absently, stroking his back. He sighs into your touch, relaxing slightly, but otherwise doesn't respond.

Slipping back into that holy silence, you feel as though you don't need anything else. No fortune, no fate, nothing could tear you away right now. The world could end and you doubt you'd care.

...But you do care. And according to Mike, you are personally responsible for the world right now.

'Alternatively, consider,' you argue with yourself. 'Spam was just sick. He needs to rest and recover before we can get moving again. And I shouldn't leave him alone in case the numbers thing happens again, right?'

Right. Of course. You should stay put and just enjoy the moment. A night off hurts no one, right?

Well, not unless Queen decides to put her evil plan into action and kill everyone-

"-Mnh, what's [Up And At 'Em], [dollface]? Your [Silver Hart] is [Beating Up A Funny Guy!]," Spamton mumbles into your chest, teeth pulled into a sleepy grimace.

"It's nothing," you say, waving him off with a hand you know he can't see with his face nestled in your neck.

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Well, I..." You debate bringing up your concerns with him, but you know the moment you refresh the threat in his mind he'll want to get moving again, and you really do think he needs a night to recover. 

"[Welfare]?"

Scrambling for some sort of cover up, your attention lands on the unused widescreen TV mounted on the wall. It strikes you as a two-birds-one-stone situation- It's a fair answer as well as a good way to settle your racing mind.

"... I, uh... Do you wanna watch TV?"

You know he can tell that you're avoiding something in the way he tenses up against you. He seems to decide against calling you out, though, relaxing again.

"...Mm. Yeah, [surefire way to]. Whatcha thinkin'?" 

"I dunno. I guess I just thought we could channel surf for a while... I mean, what do you like?"

"[[We'll Be Right Back After This Commercial Break.]]"

"Pfft. Kind of on the nose, huh?" You flick his nose for emphasis, eyeing the salesman with a grin. "I bet you just can't pay attention long enough to watch a full movie. Or show. Or those 10-minute episode kid's shows-"

"Hey! I [[canned tu]]!" 

"Oh yeah? Then what's your favorite movie? If you even have one-"

"[Ratatouille]," he interrupts, flushed in his embarrassment.

"...Oh," you say, teasing melting away. "That's actually a really solid choice. I didn't have you pegged as an animation guy, but..."

"[Anyone can cook!] It just... means a lot to see a [little guy] [Climb The Corporate Ladder]..."

"You're adorable." You hug him tight, and he squirms, adorably bashful.

"I-it's just a [Top Then Flicks], alright? [Jeez Louise]!"