Chapter Text
Pluey sighed exhaustedly.
It was almost dreading taking one of its paws off and checking its watch; it had been hours, and it knew it. It had gotten so overheated and overwhelmed that it had to swap out partway through its shift as Mike, using an elaborate pantomime to gesture to Tenna that it would be right back, as its distinctive ‘dialect’ would give away its identity as a Shadowguy.
Improvising that while practically on the verge of fainting from dehydration was already difficult… but of course Tenna had gotten upset…
He’d thrown a childish tantrum; stomping his feet and banging his fists on his dressing room vanity table; and it was made so much worse by the fact that his anger and frustration made him lose control of his size.
“So now YOU want to abandon me TOO!? What am I even PAYING you for, Mike-!!”
Pluey had backed off instinctively as it saw disaster looming. Tenna had nearly doubled in height in a fraction of a second, the chair he was seated on creaking and straining under his weight… it was only lucky that the chair hadn’t given out right away.
Because - right on cue - Jongler had finally opened the door. The poor Zapper would be facing one hell of a mess; from the furious high-pitched shrieking that came from the wreckage of the chair, evidently Tenna had been so humiliated that he’d shrunk, all the way down to his absolute smallest size. Getting him out of that situation would be no easy feat while wearing boxing gloves; but Pluey had already dropped onto all-fours and ran from the room like a cat out of hell.
It made a bee-line for the nearest water dispenser, drinking its fill. It bought a pack of peanut butter crackers and a granola bar from the vending machine, that it could only hope would be dairy-free enough not to cause more problems. Its stomach - empty since breakfast - had been complaining for hours. It was starting to feel faint. It was so hungry, so exhausted, that it felt like it could collapse.
But after that snack and some more water, Pluey was straight back in the lion’s den, because Jongler couldn’t stay…
The evening’s block of shows had been cleared because the Lightner family had stopped watching early, apparently; but that still didn’t solve the schedule conflict of having ‘Mike’ be in two places at once. Both it and Jongler were supposed to be helping out with preparations for the Ho-Ho-Holiday Spectacular - keeping their distance from one another of course, as to not break the illusion - when they got the call. Tenna, pathetically begging and pleading.
All of that, and the ever-increasing list of ridiculous demands that followed, had stretched Pluey to its limit. He insisted on taking it to his dressing room, petting it; which it didn’t mind, not even as he ranted about how stressed he was and how nobody really understood him. ‘Mike’ was such a good listener, apparently…
And then it had cut up his TV dinner for him, while he griped about how nobody ever listened to him. Sorted his laundry, while he went on and on about how things had to be perfect this time around, or there’d be hell to pay. Gave him an antenna massage in a futile attempt to get him to relax, as he screamed at some poor unfortunate soul from the costume department over the phone.
Pluey had even tucked him into bed, sang his theme song goodnight with a voice that was strained and cracked, before it was all finally over. But even now, it felt little relief, little respite; any feelings of comfort felt too cold and distant to be comfort, like a too-hard bed in a barren, chilly motel room.
Three days…
Its heart ached. It had been three days, and no news whatsoever. Battat had fallen into a kind of stupor, Mike had said. They had a little world inside their head, he’d said; somewhere between dreams and imagination, with just a little pinch of TV Magic. Pluey would have asked so many questions if it wasn’t so worried, but Mike had assured it and Jongler that he’d put Battat to bed there, and he’d be just fine before they knew it… and there he’d stayed.
Still breathing, but hardly moving. Still living, but not responding. Maybe dreaming within that half-dream itself, maybe… but as silent as a statue.
“He ain’t gone, okay?” Mike had said, after the first day. “He just needs to catch some Z’s, y’know? He ain’t been gettin’ enough sleep for a while now…”
He’d grinned a grin as wide as he could without his head on, and told both of them it’d work out somehow… but as time went on, fear’s long shadow loomed over that smile.
All three of them knew what was at stake; if Battat’s broken heart couldn’t heal, and he couldn’t belong anywhere? Then Mike would likewise end up trapped alongside them in an unmoving body, petrified by the overwhelming despair. Pluey could see Mike’s hope slowly ebbing away; hour by hour, day by day… and if that spark finally died out…
No, I have to be strong… I have to get through this, I have to keep going… it thought to itself, sniffling and wiping a few inky teardrops off its nose.
It thought for a moment, as it sat down on a couch in the Green Room, how anyone seeing it without its costume head could snitch to Tenna. But the fact was, it was so late now, not even the late shows would be playing if they hadn’t been cancelled. Most everyone had gone home and gone to bed. And - it realized as its stomach cramped and growled in protest - that meant no cafeteria. No dinner.
Pluey burst into tears.
A Shadowguy sobbing was a sound that would normally catch attention; the obnoxiously loud honk, as it blew its nose on a handkerchief it kept in a hidden pocket, even more so. And the cry of anguish and despair - a few bars of gut-wrenching blues that would have melted even the coldest heart - could have sealed its fate. But it was too exhausted. Too overwhelmed. Too deeply, unbearably upset to care.
And it was scared; it was scared of what might happen if that despair kept growing and growing, spreading like a disease, invading everywhere like a noxious weed. If Mike and Battat turned into a statue, who could be next? Jongler?? And if Pluey itself turned to stone from the heartbreak of losing its friends - without his Mikes, would Tenna be next?? What would happen to TV World - to everyone!?
“...Pluey?”
The Shadowguy looked up; in front of it was a Zapper - in appearance, the same as any other, but Pluey could have picked out that Zapper from a crowd of hundreds.
“J… Jongler… ” it played, its music weak and wobbling.
“Plue, ya… youse whole body’s shakin’, what’s da matter??”
“I’m sorry, I… ” it sniffled with a pathetic honk; “I can’t… I can’t do this any more…”
“Ya can’t?” Jongler tilted their head slightly. “Well here, lemme get ya!”
Helping up Pluey by pulling its arm, they reached behind its neck and smoothly pulled down the zipper. They helped it get out of the heavy fursuit - waited patiently as it took off the paw-shoes and gloves - and finally, they picked up the costume effortlessly under one arm, satisfied in a job well done.
“Dere! I knows youse likes the suit, Plue, but sometimes ya gots ta take breaks! Ya ain’t all magic like Magical Mike is, y’know… ”
Pluey couldn’t help but smile a little. Jongler’s obliviousness could be frustrating at times, but their pure heart shone like a diamond amidst the filth of corruption, one-upmanship, and every-Darkner-for-themself that infested most corners of TV World. It couldn’t even bring itself to tell them it had been talking about its job, not about - it couldn’t help but giggle - getting stuck in its own fursuit!
“What’s so funny? Do I still gots my cowboy hat on?”
“No, you’re okay!!” Pluey said, holding its hands up. “Just thought of something funny, that’s all!!”
“Yeah, dat’s good; boss said we needed to be careful wid da costumes, on account’a we’s signed dat agreement… ”
It was difficult to read Jongler’s feelings sometimes - they used their tail like a leg, they didn’t have any ears to speak of, and their face was as blank as any Zapper’s. But Pluey was always a fast learner, good at figuring people out - and it had already noticed that Jongler was wringing their hands. They were worried… really worried, from how they were doing those short little bounces on their tail…
“You’re worried about Battat too, aren’t you… ??”
Jongler looked at the floor, seeming almost ashamed.
“...I’m tryin’ not ta be, but it ain’t exactly workin’. So dere’s still no-?”
Pluey shook its head vigorously, wiping its eyes. Its bottom lip quivered, but it was determined not to break down again…
Jongler sighed.
“There ain’t nothin’ else to it, Plue. We just gots ta trust in Mike. He tolds us Battat is gonna be okay, maybe not todays, maybe not tomorrows, but-”
“How can you keep trusting what he says??” Pluey snapped suddenly, their fangs flashing in a shadowy snarl. “If not today, if not tomorrow, then WHEN!?”
It clamped both its hands over its mouth as it realized what it had done, the threat of tears returning to its eyes.
I just… I just YELLED at Jongler?? Why did I DO that?? Why would I EVER do that!?
But Jongler, as calm as ever, just shrugged.
“I dunno. We just gots ta trust in Mike. He said Battat’s gonna be okay, an’ he’s da only one who can see ‘em right now, so we just gots ta.”
Pluey took a deep breath. A thought - petty, angry and bitter, twisted inside its mind; Sometimes I’d give anything to be as stupid as you.
It visibly cringed, gripping its own shoulder and curling its tail close to its body, feeling disgusted with itself. If awful days were songs, tonight had been a pop-tastic earworm of a smash hit, climbing all the way to the number one spot and staying at the top of the chart indefinitely. But that still gave it no excuse to even think of its friend so poorly…
Why am I acting like this…? Is there something wrong with me…??
There was a sinking feeling of dread as it remembered its own creeping despair; another thought, for a moment, that Mike had mentioned turning to stone felt cold. But then its own growling stomach interjected, and answered the question.
“I’m sorry, Jong… ” Pluey’s stomach protested even louder; “I’m so hungry… ”
“Ya ain’t eaten yet neither, huh?” Jongler said, patting its own stomach. “All I gots was a couple’a dem macaronis from da holiday baking show… ”
“Macaroni… ?” Pluey paused, and laughed a little; “Macarons??”
“Yeah, dem tings,” Jongler said, nodding. “An’ Mr. Tenna was not happy… “
Pluey’s shadowy ears pointed down. Oh no.
“I thought da gingerbread ones was real tasty, so was da chocolate peppermint… an’ da eggnog ones??” - They used their fingers to give some approximation of a ‘chef’s kiss’ - “Supoib! I even gaves my compliments to da chefs, but… da big boss said dey weren’t festives enough… “
The Zapper shook their head in disbelief.
“He said dey gotta be poifect or else dey might as well be garbage, an’ he threw the rest’a the plate right in da garbage.” Jongler sighed, sadly; “One’a the poor bakers started cryin’... so I gave ‘em a hug, but den Mr. Tenna said I needed to quit distractin’ ‘em ‘cause they’d be working real late tryin’ to fix it… ”
Pluey was speechless; it just stood there, looking horrified.
“An’ now da cafeteria’s closed, ain’t neither of us gots no dinner… dat ain’t no way to end a day, no way.”
Pluey sighed dejectedly; even if the cafeteria wasn’t closed, the chances of them getting something they could eat were slim, in part thanks to their lactose intolerance. The frozen Vegan Salisbury Steak was always an option, but they could hardly stomach the awful texture of the potatoes, and they hated the slimy pieces of mushroom in the gravy…
Jongler looked thoughtful for a moment; “Y’know, Plue… da boss did say he was gonna talk to da big boss about increasin’ our POINTs, right?”
Pluey’s ears perked up; “Yeah, he did say that!! It’s expensive, but we could get something delivered from the after-hours kitchen??”
“Yeah! An’ maybe Mike wants somethin’ too? I means, if da big boss has been workin’ youse dis hard, an’ has been real mean to everybody else… I bet Mike’s had him yellin’ in dat earpiece all evenin’ ‘til ya tucked him in, right?”
Pluey almost flinched at the memory; there had definitely been at least one angry phone call up to the Control Room. Something about nobody wanting to watch anything in black and white any more… something about ‘screw the original artistic vision, we need to modernize’... something about the phone line being occupied during work hours…
But the Shadowguy nodded, folding their arms decidedly. Evidently, all of them needed this. They needed to be strong while they pulled through this together; while they pooled their skills, tag-teamed their roles, and did whatever it took to keep the show going. They needed to make sure Battat had as little to worry about as possible by the time he got back; and they couldn’t possibly do that on empty stomachs.
“Yeah!! Even if he had dinner, we’ll get him something good - maybe a shake?? I mean, some things are worth more than POINTS, right??”
“...Y’mean like dem Dark Dollars I sometimes hears da Pippinses talkin’ about?”
Pluey laughed uproariously; “NO, I mean friendship!! I mean things that make us happy!! That lift our spirits, Jong!!”
“Well I tink a milkshake’s worth somethin’ in POINTs, or else it’d be free… but I gets it, I gets it…” Jongler nodded sagely. “Mike’s been takin’ good care’a us. He’s been real nice. So we should gets him a shake, an’ a hug, an’ some companionships from us twos.”
Pluey clapped its hands happily; and together, the two Darkners walked - and bounced - towards the elevator that would take them up the control room. Finally looking forward to a decent meal, the Shadowguy rocked back and forth on its heels, swinging its arms, until Jongler finally broke the silence.
“Ya never know.”
Pluey looked up, waiting for a follow-up. A few seconds passed, and… nothing.
It raised a shadowy eyebrow; “Know what??”
“I mean, ya never know… y’know?”
“Know what??” Pluey asked, laughing again.
“Maybe Pippinses ain’t the only ones who can gets lucky sometimes.” Jongler said with a shrug, the elevator continuing its slow ascent. “Maybe us Zappers an’ Shadowguys can have a lil’ luck.”
Though they still weren’t sure what Jongler was on about, Pluey looked thoughtful.
“Well… I think someone said black cats are lucky?? Or was it UNlucky??”
“I thinks… lucky?” Jongler said with a nod. “Yeah, for sures good luck.”
“You think so??” Pluey asked, looking up at Jongler quizzically. “I mean - what if you’re wrong??”
The Shadowguy squinted; it was still learning how to read their expressions, but something in the way the light was reflecting off their plastic in that moment suggested a small smile, as Jongler rubbed the back of their head.
“I dunno whatta believe in sometimes… but ya gotta believe in somethin’, so why not believe black cats is good luck? I mean…” They paused, their cheeks flushing; “Now I gots you? I feels like I can worry a lil’ less… like everythin’s gonna be okay… ”
Pluey’s cheeks flushed too, just as the elevator’s doors pinged, and Jongler hopped forward.
“C’mon Plue! Hopefully da new door’s still holdin’ up okay-”
Both of them stopped dead in their tracks. They could hear Battat’s voice - just like they had for the past three days, coming from Mike’s mouth as he pretended to be them. But something was different…
“Stupid, stupid… AUGH I’m so stupid!!!”
Jongler and Pluey both looked at each other, silently, both of them thinking the same thing.
Mike doesn’t talk to himself when he thinks he’s alone…
“Hey c’mon dummy, ya can’t beat yourself up about this all night! I mean what, do ya think it’s normal for the boss to expect ya to read his mind??”
“Well he obviously does, because every single year since we got here, it’s always, ALWAYS been the original black and white-!”
…Nevermind in Battat’s voice…!
Pluey held back their sobbing. They sniffled and hiccupped. Tears ran down their face as their chest tightened, their heart feeling like someone had grabbed it in their fist and was cruelly squeezing it. If Battat really was back it couldn’t cry now, it couldn’t let them see it cry… !
“BATTAT!!!”
But Jongler had already zoomed on ahead with incredible speed, flung the doors open, and had grabbed the Green Pippins in a hug. They didn’t have any eyes to cry with, there were no tears they could shed, but the sounds they were making were very, very distinctly the sound of crying. Hysterically.
“Jongler…!!!”
“You’re okays!!! You’re really okays, we was so worried!!!”
Pluey came rushed into the room to a chorus of loud ‘boo-hoo-hoos’, clearing its eyes just long enough to wrap its arms around Jongler’s arm - desperately trying to pry them off Battat, who had gone way too far past green and was starting to turn blue.
“I can’t… breathe…!!!”
Jumping down, Pluey tried something else - using its voice the best way it could, it played the sound of a bugle call. Specifically, ‘Reveille’ - the song that called every Darkner on security duty to their morning meeting! And practically on instinct, Jongler saluted stiffly, dropping the other Darkner and leaving him gasping on the floor.
“One… hell of a way… to say you’re happy, Jong… ” Mike wheezed.
Approaching cautiously, Pluey clasped its hands over its heart. It definitely seemed like something Mike would do, throwing himself in harm’s way to protect his friend, but there was only one way to be sure whether it had heard what it really thought it did.
“Battat? Are you… in there?”
The green Pippin’s expression abruptly shifted. He gave a weak, ragged cough. And a voice that definitely wasn’t Mike’s groaned; “Uuughhh… my ribs… ”
With a saxophone squeal, Pluey rushed forward and scooped up Battat - not squeezing them in a hug, as tempting as it was, but holding them against its chest. Filled to overflowing with joy but wanting to soothe his discomfort, it sang softly to them, playing a smooth jazz melody. And Jongler, uttering a soft “sorry”, wasn’t too far away - they wrapped their arms around them both, their chest still hitching with tear-less sobs as the Pippins’ tense body finally relaxed.
“See? I told ya they cared.” Mike said, with a small smile. “An’ they’re gonna wanna hear all about what you’ve been doin’ since ya woke up. ”
“Can it wait…?” Battat muttered, seeming a little sleepy suddenly. “... Pluey’s purring is nice… ”
Pluey froze for a moment, their jazz solo stopping dead in its tracks. They’d always wanted to be able to purr, but they’d never figured out how, so how…??
Then their stomach growled again, and they couldn’t suppress the laugh that followed.
“Wait, is that ya stomach makin’ that noise??” Mike said, apparently in control again, and ready to chastise both of them. “Don’t you guys know better than to skip a-”
“We didn’t mean to!!” Pluey interrupted; “It’s just… Mr. Tenna was very… needy today??”
Jongler looked dejected; “Da TV schedule might’a been cleared, boss, but between da big boss needin’ our attention an’ da Holly-day Spectacles? Ain’t either of us been able to catch a break… ”
“So neither of ya got to eat at all?” Mike looked at both of them with concern, then his expression changed to a more determined one.
“Jongler, mind lettin’ me up?”
Mike stood up as the Zapper complied, opening a nearby desk drawer and searching around; “We’re orderin’ in an’ it’s goin’ on my tab. No buts.”
“But-” Pluey started, raising a hand in protest.
“I said no buts! Just just let me do somethin’ for you guys… “ Mike shook his head, handing a paper menu to Jongler. “I should’a never let it get this bad… an’ I can’t promise tomorrow night’s gonna be any better, ‘cause I can’t talk to the guy before then… yeah, Bat, I’m talkin’ about the meetin’... ”
“Ya mean dat poiple Pippins, boss?”
“Yeah, we scheduled a meeting… it’s tomorrow night at seven, Mike said you’d cover?” Battat asked, handing another copy of the menu to Pluey; it nodded in the affirmative.
“Yeah, I just can’t possibly bring it up earlier, as much as I wanna… ” Mike followed up, sitting back down in his office chair, pinching the bridge of their shared body’s nose. “If I called ‘em out when we still got shows to do, he’ll shrink so small we’ll be lucky we can find him for prime time!”
Pluey nodded, sadly; they’d seen first-hand what happened when Tenna felt humiliated.
“But consider this my way of sayin’ I’m really, really sorry in advance. I already knew this was gonna be tough on you guys, but it might even be worse than tonight for a couple hours, dependin’ on which way Tenna’s mood goes… ”
He sighed, leaning back in the chair, gesturing desperately at thin air; “And I dunno when me an’ Bat might get another chance like this! I had to call in a bunch of favors just to get Miss Fortune some time off!”
“Dis is important to ya, boss. Both’a ya gotta do this to find what ya lost.” Jongler said calmly; “An’ even if dere ain’t nothin’ ya can do ta fix Tenna’s bad mood, da stress from tonight ain’t nothin’ dat a double cheeseboiger, pickle on da side… uhh, better make it a large fries… could fix, ya know?”
Mike smiled; “Consider it done. Pluebert, ya know what ya want yet? Just name it - anythin’, anythin’ at all.”
Pluey nodded, and held up the menu; “Could I get this, please??”
“The Captain’s Platter?” said Battat’s voice, squinting at the picture; a huge plate practically overflowing with fried food; “Wow, you really must be hungry… ”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to share?? That way you guys aren’t left out!!”
There was an odd look on the Pippins’ face for a moment, both voices falling silent. Pluey got the impression they’d both turned and looked at each other, and were now having some kind of internal conversation. They must be debating back and forth in the inner world, as their eyes twitched and their expression shifted.
“You said I could have anything I wanted, right…?” Pluey asked.
Snapping to attention, Mike answered: “Yeah, I did say that! Trust me, POINTs ain’t the issue here-”
“Well today was awful, and tomorrow might be worse - but tonight? What I want is to share a meal with my best friends - and sharing means we all get something, doesn’t it??”
Mike smirked; his eyes looked to his left, and he gave a brief chuckle. And while Pluey couldn’t see inside their head, it swore it could almost see and hear Battat saying “FINE!”, throwing his arms up in surrender, finally conceding.
“Well, it looks like everybody’s in agreement! I don’t eat shrimp, but I’ll help ya with the hush puppies… maybe some fish, if ya can spare it… does it come with fries?”
“Do you want us to get indigestion??” Battat huffed, fronting abruptly. “If it comes with a side can we at least make it a house salad, just so I don’t have to spend the rest of the night regretting your choices??”
Pluey snorted, covering its mouth; it was all at once hilarious and a huge relief, seeing the two bickering again. Their shared body was gesturing and emoting like they were standing across from one another… but as voices started to be raised, it couldn’t help stepping in, grabbing them in a gentle hug to calm them down.
Mike sighed; “Sorry for snappin' at ya, Bat… I'm just worried, y'know? Ya know as well as I do that ya really gotta start eatin’ more, it ain’t right for ya to be this skinny… ”
“...And I shouldn’t have pushed back so much when you’re just trying to look out for me.” Battat followed, with a sigh of their own. “I’m sorry, too.”
Pluey smiled, and gave a thumbs-up to Jongler, who’d already picked up the phone.
“... But I’m not compromising on the salad.”
“That depends; ranch or vinaigrette?”
“Would it kill you to try the vinaigrette… ?”
“Get both!!” Pluey shouted to Jongler; “On the side!!”
And it sat, and watched, and listened as the pair talked back and forth.
Being Mike already made Pluey feel like it was a part of something special; like it had a fun little secret that it couldn’t tell a single soul about. But seeing this was something else; the two of them must have been so scared, so worried, when they found out they were like this. Knowing that you’re not just different, but might even be unique amongst Darkners… it had to be incredibly hard, and yet they'd still chosen to share this with it.
Fate had been kind, and fortune had smiled upon all four of them, and that meant that Pluey had the privilege of having three new best friends. Two of whom just happened to share a single body; and were trying, despite the stress, to make things work. To make things better.
It smiled; Jongler’s right; black cats really CAN be lucky.