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It was nearing the holidays, and Battat was stressed.
Well, he was always stressed, just stressed was putting it lightly, to be honest. He felt like he hadn’t slept in ages, and the busy nature of things this time of year didn’t help with that at all.
The holidays were always a more frantic time for the TV studio as a whole, but this was doubly true for the Mikes. While Tenna himself was often in a better mood this time of year– being watched more and more for cooking recipes, cheerful music, and holiday specials– it didn’t stop him from continuing to be so…needy. More so than usual due to the circumstances, if anything. When things began looking more festive around the studio, there was always the guarantee of more work to be done as well.
On any other regular business-as-usual day, Battat would already be complaining about it before it had even started. Complaining about the work, complaining about Tenna, complaining about having to wear his stuffy Mike costume, you name it. Not necessarily vocally, of course, if Tenna heard him complaining he’d just go ahead and die on the spot, but mentally for sure. Usually Jongler and Pluey were around to help out with things and make it a bit easier, though. Unfortunately for Battat, however, both of them weren’t able to participate in being Mike today, as they were both back at their collective room too preoccupied with being sick.
This, again, unfortunately left all of the holiday work to him and him alone.
It seemed that there was some kind of bug going around the studio lately, and with how much the three of them interacted with the rest of the crew, costume or not, it was only inevitable that they’d end up catching it from someone eventually.
Pluey had been the first to drop out, to no-one’s surprise. The guy was great and all, but they kind of had the constitution of a sack of feathers even at the best of times. He had woken up a few days prior basically refusing to leave his bed entirely, mewling about a stomachache. He remembers asking them if he were really serious about feeling sick, or if he were playing it up just to get out of work for the day. Maybe it was a stupid question. It wasn’t especially common for any of them to try to get out of work, but each of them had all done it at least once. But after the poor guy unceremoniously choked up a hairball into his sheets as a response, Battat decided to leave it be.
Being down one Mike was bad enough already, but by the very next day Jongler had joined the shadowguy in feeling too miserable to work. Jongler being sick at all in the first place was kind of strange, honestly. The zapper tended to be more immune to these sorts of things on a general level. He was just…stronger than that. And them being sick before Battat, even? With his own downright terrible immune system that was only made worse due to bad habits? Way stranger.
He supposed that even if he had to do more work than usual to pick up the slack of the missing Mikes, he could consider himself rather lucky that he hadn’t fallen ill yet. Well, he could consider himself lucky if that were actually the case. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.
He didn’t notice anything strange upon waking up that morning, but as the day progressed Battat found himself feeling more and more run-down. Surely just from all the work, he figured. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to start feeling too warm in his costume sometimes, nor was it for him to be a little bit achy all over and out of breath. It just came with the job, really. It was just a part of being Mike. The seemingly random stomach cramps that came and went every so often were just from anxiety, obviously. It just happened sometimes, couldn’t be helped. Nevermind the fact that he didn’t feel particularly anxious about anything today.
He made his way backstage at the request of Tenna, to make sure that the stage curtains were working correctly. For some reason lately, they had a tendency to get tangled on themselves when opening and closing, causing a lot of unexpected delays and cuts during the show. It was likely that someone had just screwed up the rope mechanism and it needed to be fixed. It wouldn’t’ve been the first time something like that had happened, after all. Probably wouldn’t be the last, either.
Retrieving the ropes from the curtains and making sure none were especially tangled was usually a simple task. Battat gazed up at the ropes, spotting the problem–a few rogue knots– almost immediately. He raised up his arms to reach one of the ropes and- ah- ow, pain. He hissed, snaking his arm back and wrapping both around his middle, bending over a bit at the waist. He closed his eyes and held the position for a moment, just breathing within the confines of his costume. It was hard to tell whether he was going to pass out or throw up. Maybe both. Hopefully neither.
After a brief moment the feeling seemed to mostly pass, and he continued finishing the task at hand. If it ended up taking a bit longer than usual, well, that was nobody’s business but his. At least it got done at all.
A small sound went off next to his ear. Headset. It was quickly followed by a voice. Tenna. “Mike, whenever you finish up backstage, do you think you could come down to the green room real quick?” There was a frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. “It’s just…you’d really think these pippinses would know how to hang decorations by now, haha!”
It took Battat a moment longer than it should have to process the information given to him. It felt like his brain was wading through sludge just to conjure thoughts. “Ah, uh, ‘course boss,” he fumbled, “I’ll be right over there now! I’m already done with the curtain issue, so!”
Another small sound. Usually it was something he had no trouble tuning out, but it seemed especially grating today. “Thanks, Mike, I really don’t know what I'd do without you, y’know?”
He decided to leave the boss’s rhetorical question without an answer and began making the small trek to the green room.
If he were being totally honest with himself, he’d be lying if he said his stomach wasn’t killing him. Not only that, but it felt like he was beginning to get a headache as well. Nothing serious, though, it couldn’t be. He really didn’t want to believe that he’d caught whatever was going around, whatever the other two already had, but the longer the day went on the more it seemed like a reasonable possibility.
Steeling himself and biting his tongue to stifle a groan at the way his stomach seemed to flip over on itself, he entered the room. It felt dizzying and gross just catching small glimpses of the starry moving wallpaper in his peripheral vision. He moved his gaze straight downwards, hoping to mitigate the problem.
“Mike!” Tenna’s shrill voice cleaved through his skull like an ice pick. Battat didn’t think his headache was that bad already. “I’m so glad you’re here!” He felt something being forcefully shoved into his arms. “Just need you to get these up for me, okay?”
A bunch of ribbons, and long shiny tinsel garlands. He squinted his eyes at the light reflecting off of the bundle. For some reason, he felt that if he were to open his mouth to speak, more than just words would end up escaping him. That couldn’t be good. He settled for a rather dumb looking half-nod instead. Silence! Motormouth Mike’s specialty! Get real.
If he noticed anything out of the ordinary, Tenna didn’t seem to mind the strange behavior, almost immediately walking off to check on something else needing his attention. Battat did his best to not feel hurt by the inattentiveness. Usually something like that wouldn’t really bother him too much, but today it seemed to hit a bit harder than usual. He didn’t like it.
Setting the bundle in his arms down onto one of the couches nearby for the time being, he made his way over to the S-rank rewards room. Inside, there was a supply closet, and he planned to grab a ladder from it.
Planned, being the key word.
A few things happened in rather quick succession.
When he opened the door to the supply closet, he was immediately met with a small number of rabbicks tumbling out from inside. They all quickly scattered in various directions, but the speedy movement of the dust bunnies disoriented him badly enough to need to grab onto something to prevent falling over and cracking his head all over the floor.
Unfortunately, he’d braced himself on the door handle of the door he’d just opened, and the thing swung open the rest of the way out from underneath him, causing him to slip backwards anyways.
The swooping motion of his body gracelessly meeting with the floor alongside the sudden slamming noise of the door colliding with the wall behind it did not agree with him, in that moment.
There was a horrible pounding sensation just behind his eyes, and his body decided right then that it’d finally had enough.
He barely had time to let out a pathetic choking noise before his stomach heaved against his will, making everything inside of it become outside of it.
All over the inside of his mask.
Sitting there, trembling for a moment under the shock of it all, harshly breathing, Battat had trouble piecing thoughts together. What was he supposed to do? He was the only one who was able to be Mike today. Tenna still needed him to-
An involuntary dry heave suddenly shot through him, followed by a short sob.
He was absolutely covered in sick. His head ached. He didn’t want to admit it, not to himself and definitely not to anyone else, but he really did feel like shit. He sniffled, letting out tears of frustration. He needed to find a way to quickly wash out his costume without anyone finding out about anything. He couldn’t work like this. He-
Something touched his shoulder.
Trying not to cry any more than he already had been, he gently peered around as carefully as he could to peek at the person who’d found him in such a pitiful state. Who he saw was…
…
Pluey? In…his Mike costume, no less?
That can’t be right. Pluey was still resting.
Maybe he was finally losing his mind. First his dignity, and now this? It wasn’t visible, but his face flushed with embarrassment.
Before he could let another thought cross his mind, however, Pluey picked him up off the floor, easy as anything. Maybe they were feeling better? The movement made him feel a bit sick, but he managed to only let out a small stifled burp at the action.
Wow, he felt disgusting.
Reaching up with both hands, he grabbed a hold of the head to his costume and carefully popped the thing off, giving a relieved sigh in the process. If Pluey weren’t around, there was no way he’d have done that, but he didn’t particularly feel an obligation to be Mike, anymore.
Pluey didn’t seem too disgusted at the fact that he still had sick across his face and all down his front. They just seemed worried, if anything. He wiped an arm over his face intending to clear some of the mess away, his costume was already screwed, it couldn’t get much worse, but mostly succeeded in smudging it around instead.
“Sorry, Plue,” Battat mumbled. It didn’t seem like there was anything else he could say. The whole situation was terrible.
Pluey responded with a low sounding warble, and began carrying him out of the room. Every step being made seemed to resonate straight throughout his head. He could tell the other was trying to be gentle, though.
If he were in a more competent headspace, he’d probably be worried about, well, anyone seeing him out of costume. Or rather half out of costume. Let alone being covered in puke. But he was struggling to find the decency to care about it at all. He supposed it couldn’t be helped.
Luckily, it seemed like he’d barely blinked before they were suddenly in their shared room. The cat guy was fast, he’d give him that much. He briefly noted that Jongler seemed to be asleep on his own bed, before Pluey carried him over towards the bathroom. They’d gently set him down on the edge of the bath, sending a questioning tone his way.
“I can…” he paused, thinking, before huffing out a barely-there laugh, “Yeah, Plue, ‘course I can handle bathing myself, don’t be worrying about all that.” Battat set his Mike head on the floor, but it was swiftly scooped back up by the shadowguy. “You don’t need to…clean that either, I can-”
A sharp whistle cut him off.
He glared at the other for a moment, realizing he was in no position to be arguing. “I…fine,” he conceded, stripping the rest of the costume off of himself and handing that over as well. “Sheesh, this is gross, I really am sorry you gotta…do…that.” He gestured over to the outfit.
Pluey shook his head and held up a paw, the motion giving the impression of an it’s okay, really.
Something akin to fear hit him, then. He gripped at the edge of the tub, suddenly feeling ill all over again.
“Isn’t- don’t you have- I have-” he grit his teeth, struggling to form the sentence he wanted, finally settling on just, “Tenna?”
Pluey had the audacity to stand there and smile. He gave a melodic explanation, patting the die on the head a few times.
Battat stared at them. “What do you mean you have it handled- hey! Where are you going!” Before he had the chance to receive an answer, the guy was already out the door and long gone. Well, shit.
He might as well get cleaned up, then.
After about an hour of sitting in the bath– the water had gone tepid, by now, but he couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to get out yet– he finally heard the door to the bathroom reopen. Looking up, however, he realized that it wasn’t Pluey returning, but Jongler. The remote stood in front of the sink, holding onto the edges of it with shaky hands. They didn’t seem to notice him sitting a few feet away.
“Jongler?” Battat tried.
It took them a moment to respond, but they eventually hummed in acknowledgement, not moving an inch all the while.
Battat frowned. He knew they were sick as well, of course, but something about the situation struck him as odd. “You okay?” he asked.
He received a small head shake in response. A negative, then.
He was about to ask them what was wrong, before immediately understanding the issue.
“You’re feeling nauseous, and can’t throw up, huh?
They wearily nodded.
It made sense, they didn’t even have a mouth, after all. He didn’t understand how any zapper could even talk without them, but it wasn’t something that was ever brought into question too often. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen any of them eat or drink anything before either. He’d have to ask about that sometime.
“That…sucks,” he stated.
He didn’t get a response to his statement, but to be fair, he wasn’t really expecting one. He never was the greatest at comforting people. He cursed at himself mentally, if only he were better at coming up with things to say in situations like this. Why was he only ever good at talking out his ass when he was pretending to be someone else?
“Um…how’s about you go lay back down and I'll…get outta here and see what I can do?”
Jongler, again, took a moment to respond, but eventually did. “...’Kay,” they carefully said, leaving the room shortly after.
Now to actually…get out of the bath.
Battat leaned back for a moment, closing his eyes with a sigh. If he were to let himself, he was sure he’d be able to fall asleep right where he was. He quickly banished the thought from his mind, however. He didn’t particularly feel like accidentally drowning in a foot of water today. Plus, Jongler needed him.
He took a readying breath, and placed both hands on the edge of the tub. Shooting off a quick thought of please don’t slip, he hauled himself out of the water and to his feet. Success. He wrapped a towel around himself as swiftly as he could manage, and exited the room to find a change of clothes. Something comfortable, preferably.
While changing he spared a glance across the room, making sure Jongler was still in bed. Thankfully, they were, but they didn’t seem to be in a good way. It worried him. Quickly finishing up, he made his way over to their side, taking a seat on the edge of their bed. The zapper was curled up, back towards him.
He heard them mumble something.
“You wanna try that one again?” he asked, "You're kinda quiet, there.” He wasn’t sure if he should be doing something or not.
They spoke again, a bit louder this time, “Thought yous was on Mike duty today.”
“Oh. Yeah, I was,” he agreed, “but y’know, had to…call out sick, hah.” Battat felt his insides turn slightly at the mere memory of what had happened a little while earlier. He swallowed the feeling down.
Jongler hummed. “Sorry t’hear that, boss.”
“It’s…fine,” he said.
…
“I mean, you know me! Can’t…uh, can’t keep me down for too long, right?”
Jongler gave a weak laugh in response, shifting onto their back.
“What? I’m just sayin’! It’s not like you’re gonna find me in bed too often, y’know? S’just not the kinda life for Motor- wh- hey!”
While he was speaking, Jongler had grabbed a hold of him, nearly effortlessly hauling him around to the other side of the bed, before laying him down, curling around him, and holding him in place as though he were some kind of teddy bear.
Battat could feel his face involuntarily go a bit warm. His heart was racing. “What are you-?”
“Shh, sorry boss,” they said, interrupting themselves with a yawn, “Yous was talkin’ too much. Y’gotta…take a…nap…”
…
They fell asleep?!
Battat stared wide-eyed at nothing in particular. What the hell?!
He laid there, effectively pinned in place for the foreseeable future. This wasn’t really what he had in mind earlier when he offered to do something. Why were they-? Were they…was this…did this count as cuddling?
He squeezed his eyes shut against the embarrassing thought. Surely not. They were just…tired. And sick. And…holding. Him.
…
Maybe it was fine. Maybe it’d be fine. It wasn’t like he was going to die or anything. That’d just be crazy talk. He sighed. It wasn’t…so bad. If he thought about it. It…was honestly kind of… nice?
He didn’t realize just how deeply exhausted he was until he got lying down. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just…for a second…
When Pluey arrived back to the room at the end of the day, he’d found the other two snuggled up together on Jongler’s bed. He smiled at the sight, glad that they were both getting some kind of rest. Especially Battat. Most of the time he and Jongler had to beg the guy to go to sleep for hours before he’d actually listen. Seeing the both of them peacefully lay together was a welcome sight for sure.
It was honestly kind of cute.
He moved to place Battat’s Mike costume– now clean– into the closet, before removing his own. If it weren’t so suffocating to do so 24/7, they’d choose to stay in the thing forever. It was unfortunate that they couldn’t, but he supposed he could make do without it. After slipping on a pair of socks made to look like cat paws, he made his way over to Jongler’s bed.
Looking down at the two sleepers, they let their mind wander a bit. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d been earlier, no longer feeling particularly ill. He shuddered to think of what might have happened if he hadn’t decided to also work today. If they hadn’t been there to help out at just the right time. It hurt to think about. They were glad everything turned out okay in the end.
He carefully joined the other two in bed, making sure not to cause too much of a disturbance. They chose to curl up near the end of the mattress, their back making contact with Jongler’s leg. Smushing his face into the covers, he smiled, and let himself fall asleep to the sounds of gentle breathing.