Work Text:
You can't stand working for TV Time any longer.
You love your job and the people around you (save a few Pippins), but the environment has been so... tense recently.
It seems to be solely a you problem, though. Your coworkers have no complaints beside their usual ones. If anything, everyone else it having the time of their lives. Hell, even Mike is chipper.
All except for you, and your boss Mr. -
"Mr. Tenna, wait!" You hurried to the closing elevator doors, signaling for him to press the 'Open' button. He looked at you, then simply turned his head and fidgeted with his tie. His lips quivering was the last thing you could see before the doors shut in your face.
Yea, he's been acting weird lately.
Only to you though, it seems. Perhaps that's why everyone else is so jolly, since they now have the big bad boss of their backs. Of course, now everything is taken out on you indirectly. "Mr. Tenna's Anger Outlet" should be on your payroll. You huffed, trudging back to your desk to finish whatever paperwork he threw on to it now.
He's been nothing short of cruel recently.
It all started a few months back at that work party.
Prior to all this, Mr. Tenna was his normal self. That is, if we ignore the rude boss alter ego of his. He was funny, charismatic, and you'd even go as far as to say he's charming. It makes sense why he's still so well loved through his time on the air.
But when the lights in the office were dimmed and cheap plastic decorations hung around the place, he was huddled into a corner nervous and sweaty.
Many employees decided now would be the perfect time to get their big promotion. While Mr. Tenna was in his people pleasing-mood, others took advantage of that. Half the damn party corralled him into their parade of self praise.
As he looked up from the small employees at his feet, he saw you.
You gave him such an sympathetic look.
Such a look stuck with him.
His mechanical heart had skipped a beat, and it still does when he thinks of it.
No one ever looked at him like that. Not Mike, not the Dreemurr's, not even the damn mailman!
No one.
But you.
Later that night, surely under the influence of drunken laughter, things were said that should've remained thoughts. Some probably never should've been thought of at all. In the privacy of a vacant room, shoulders touching despite the clear space on the couch, words hung in the air in an unprofessional manner. You shouldn't talk this openly to your boss, and he to you. Yet you both did just that. And the way home, physicality should've remained to a bare brushing of hands when offering umbrellas. Not a peck on the cheek that lingered for hours after. You can admit you surely deserve a bit of scolding for that scene. Your face flushed with embarrassment every time it popped into your mind.
But him?
In the halls, looking at you, it was all he could see.
He noticed the little things more now.
The little chats you held by the watercooler that he wished was with him. The little tail at the end of your signature. The clean, yet clumsy whiteout that was sure to be on every document you touched. The same soda you got from the vending machines during your break, which he made sure were always in stock.
Everything he saw, it all related back to you.
It horrified him.
The last time he felt like this, with him... It ended horribly. The phone still rings sometimes, it bounces off and coddles his antennas in a mocking tone. He catches himself running to listen just like he did that night. Should he have ran to him instead? If it was you, would he?
He doesn't want that uncertainty with you. So, he'll push you away until the feelings choke and he can swallow them into the mechanical abyss of his body. He'll push them far to the opposite ends of the Dark World.
But what about you?
When you came in the day after the party, you half expected to be fired on the spot.
Instead, you didn't see him in person at all. It loosened your shoulders as a sigh escaped. When you went to your desk, the slightest larger amount of paperwork was delegated to you. No biggie, though. Just another busy day as his secretary.
You watched the performance of that day on the old CRT in the corner across your office. He seemed tense, but you shook it off as just him getting stressed about things so easily. A stagehand probably placed a prop somewhere other than the prop table. Something as simple as that can get the man a nervous, angry wreck.
But during break, when he came back to his office directly across from yours, he didn't spare you a glance like he normally would. You waved at nothing but a disturbance in the air. Allllllrightt... Your smile broke as your eye twitched. He's probably having a bad run today. Or just a bit awkward after last night. No problem. Nope. Everything is ay-okay!
When he left his office, he finally decided to approach you with something in hand.
"Hello, Mr. Tenna - !" A new stack of paperwork prematurely punctuated that sentence, earning a yelp out of you as it was throw atop your half finished stack from this morning.
"Get this done." He looked away, his lips almost forming a please out of habit, but he held back. He looked at your confused and saddened face before turning his back to you and walking off. He returned to the stage with a tighter tense in his shoulders while tears stained the paper.
By some miracle, you finished before everyone left. Perhaps skipping your entire lunch break paid off. Your stomach growled at the concept of a lunch you never got around to eating. Whatever. It'll just be your dinner when you get home.
When you reached the exit, employees were just raving about how wonderful their day was.
"I had zero work today!"
"Mr. Tenna didn't yell at me for missing my cue again!"
"Same! He didn't storm off during sound check this time!"
The tears blurred your vision again, accompanying your newly appearing eyebags.
You really couldn't get this guy. You miss when he was around the office, either cracking jokes or having everyone walk on eggshells. As happy as you are for your coworkers that they finally enjoy work, you had enjoyed it before. His mood swings were unpredictable, sure, but you knew him well. As his secretary you were his closest employee, and he trusted you the most. You knew everything that went on in his head. Now? Its all a blur. Any understanding you had of him before vanished. Any enjoyment around him ceased to exist. Now? You wanted to quit.
And that feeling lingered for the weeks this was dragged out into. Until you're breaking point.
You hummed as you completed the last file on your desk. Not a hum of enjoyment, but a hum at the start of a melancholic symphony. A hymn unfinished, yet it told a story nonetheless.
You were beat.
You looked up at the clock, which almost warped as you ripped your eyes away from the dim glow the lamp shed on the paperwork in front of you. 11 pm.
Had he seen you when he left his office and decided to say nothing? Your offices were directly across from each other, so he should've at least noticed the light in the otherwise vacant building.
This is your final straw. The tears welled in your eyes from frustration. The amount of times now when you had gone home tired, underpaid, and sobbing was insulting.
He pushed you away, scolded you for the tiniest of things, ignored you, then threw piles upon piles of paperwork onto you, causing you to stay FAR past your shifts end. Far past your bedtime even.
You grumbled as the screeching of the chair being pushed out beneath you accompanied your disdain. Tomorrow, you would draft a resignation. God, you're too pissed and seep deprived to even consider putting your two weeks in. He doesn't deserve it in your eyes.
The next day at work you did what you were told.
You filed, you wrote, you cleaned, you fetched coffee. Everything with a faux smile plastered on your face. Though he looked at you (finally) with some weird mix of concern and something else you couldn't pinpoint, you continued until your cheeks burned from the pressure.
After the break in the show you slipped your letter of resignation on his desk.
His office was, surprisingly, unlocked. Almost like he wanted someone to snoop around. Almost like he wanted someone to notice.
You tried oh so very hard not to process the picture frame of a photo of just you and him at the work party. You know for a fact that photo you posed for was less personal and with more people. Instead, it was folded and tucked into a frame facing his side of the desk. Only you and him were visible in it. The faint smell of liquor accompanied it.
You went back to your office, pushing aside the paperwork to plop your bag on top of the desk. You began to pack your increased number of bags with all you had that was worthy of taking away from here.
The show was over, and Mr. Tenna would surely return to his office soon. You left without a word, making sure to take the long route round as to not bump into him.
Perhaps he might call you when you get home, or if he remained any dignity of professionality he'd Email you. You wouldn't respond either way.
You bumped into two of your friendly coworkers on the way out, and began to chat.
You told them you were leaving, and they would most likely had been shocked had you not been updating them on this whole situation. You promised to stay in touch, and they promised to sneak you in to any parties in the future. You tittered as their cackles echoed across the hall at their own joke, unbeknownst to the impact work parties truly had on you.
And to the other loud emotions down the hall.
"WHAT!?" You heard his striking voice echo through the entire building. Yep, he read it. A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes widened at your friends, who slowly turned their heads from the sound to you. One of them mouthed, 'You're screwed.' And you nodded with a gulp.
You needed to leave, NOW.
You waved anxiously and frantically goodbye and scurried past them both. Your shoulders hunched as you tightened the hold on your extra bag, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The endless statues, pictures, posters, and television screens portraying Tenna all seemed to stare at you. You put one hand over your forehead in a salute motion, hoping to cover your shame and identity with the shadow from it.
Just as the exit neared closer, a hand on your shoulder synced with your final step towards it. You froze.
You shuddered, no wanting to look behind you at all. You pictured an all black screen, then fangs poking from his appearing mouth. His gloves would be ripped by his retractable claws, which would in turn dig into your shoulder and-
Your name.
He was calling your name, gently almost. Gently, not in the way you call a cat. But in the way you persuade someone to put down a gun. In the way you speak to yourself to reassure yourself it'll be okay. His voice cracked when it reached the end syllables of your title.
You looked across your shoulder, no longer expecting to be mauled.
His smile quivered in wobbly lines as beads of sweat threatened to come near the weak excuse of a grin. The top of his casing bent in a way that represented a furrowed, saddened set of brows. Air huffed out of his vents like he had just run a mile. His tie was half off, and his white undershirt had a new stain of startled liquor. His signature red suit jacket was long gone, revealing his rolled up sleeves and the wires poking in and out of his forearms.
"Could I very quickly see you in my office?" He didn't speak with that normal jazz like he would when excited, nor the type of bass when he was upset. You'd only seen him as the two, so to see this new person in front of you had you taken aback. His voice wavered with uncertainty.
Despite this pleading version of him, you had a keen understanding you didn't have much of a choice when it came to returning to his office. And it surely wasn't going to be quick.
He opened the door for you, only stepping in when you fully did so. He closed the door behind you, and you swore you could hear the polite click of the lock.
You weren't too focused on audio right now, however, being faced with the wreck his office was.
It was not like this when you had entered earlier.
His red jacket was thrown to the ground, alongside a string of items you swore were once on his desk. A freshly poured glass shattered on the ground, spilling the rest of its contents that weren't on his shirt. The picture you held interest in earlier was facing down now. The wood on his desk was disrupted by a huge, splintering hole next to the letter you had placed hours prior.
Now that you mention it, his knuckles did seem a little swollen when he placed a hand on your shoulder.
The mess wasn't one of anger, not that it would scare you anyways. It reeked of fear. Like a cat when startled, kicking and jumping and crashing on everyone and everything to escape.
He came from behind you and stood beside your observing self, leaning in to your field of view. Was he smaller than before?
"Haha- sorry! Sorry for the mess it's uh... Pippins! Yes those damn- those.." He cleared his throat as he noticed you weren't really listening. ".. those bastards." He trailed off and brought a hand up to the side of his screen to smack it. He tugged his tie tight, then gestured for you to have a seat. You set your bags down beside the chair.
Uncomfortably, you sat across from him with the only barrier being the abused desk. He carefully took the paper in the middle in his hands. The shake he harbored was evident now, the paper wobbling back and forth as he pretended to read.
"So! Ah.. About this.. this.." He struggled to find the right words.
"My resignation letter, sir." You straightened and presumed your professional persona, though a hint of passive aggressiveness shown through as he winced at the bite in your tone.
"Yes, yes..." He gulped. "So.. the thing is.." He brought both hands to the top of the paper. You raised a brow.
In an instant, he tore the thing in half. He let it fall to your end of the desk before fiddling with his tie yet again. That nervous smile tried to shield him from your shocked and infuriated glare.
"Whoops! You uh- You're still employed!" He played a laugh track with a titter, but your face showed no indication of humor. He gulped again, deeper this time. His hands folded in his lap as his thumbs fought each other. You closed your eyes, bringing your head down to take a deep breath. You looked back up, opening your eyes to his anxious self. Such a contrast to how he's been treating you these past few weeks.
"Sir, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. I am quitting, and my word is final." You smiled, but it had yet to reach your eyes.
"NO! I- I mean I.. have to approve it! Ah silly me, now there's- there's nothing to approve!" He gestured towards the mess of paper in front of you. "Hehe, I'm so clumsy! I'm so.." He cowered at your gaze and hit the side of his head again. "...soOoOooooo clumsyy... hah.." His voice wavered and dropped to a whisper. His shoulders cowered and made him look even smaller now.
"Sir, this is highly unprofessional."
"Unprofessional? I hardly know her!" He said in a state of overwrought.
"I am leaving this franchise and it is final. Goodbye." You bent to grab your things, then heard the hurried shuffling and screeching of chairs.
"WAIT!" He stood in front of you now, and you quickly straightened up, pushing yourself to the back of your chair. He towered over you without even trying despite his smaller self.
"You ah- You should at least tell me why! Please! Maybe I can fix it!" He balled his fists as nervous sweat continued to drip down his drooping antennae. You cleared your throat like a trumpet before a declaration.
"Well, sir, had you read my-"
"Is it the pay?! I'll pay you ten- no.. FIFTY PERCENT MORE!" He declared with a finger to the sky.
"Sir it is not the-"
"The Pippins?! Oh, I've been meaning to fire the little devils! They just- They're so GLOOBY! See, they need to leave. Not you!"
"Mr. Tenna please let me-"
"Are you too far away? Oh my! The commute is too treacherous, dangerous even! I'll ensure you receive a nice, close homestead. Probl- problem solved! See, now you can-"
"MR. TENNA." You slammed a fist into the arm of the chair as your voice spoke in a tone and measure you never knew it could produce. Tenna yelped, backing himself against the desk as he jumped mid air. His faux smile was gone, replaced by an awaiting look of fear.
You inhaled sharply to steady yourself. "Mr. Tenna, for whatever damn reason, you've decided to dedicate your entire persona of anger to me. Me SPECIFICALLY." You punctuated that with pushing yourself up from your chair, completely forgetting and not caring about your bags. Your eyes kept him pinned to place, and you stared down at him though he was still slightly taller than you.
"I hope you can comprehend how insulting it is to hear about the lesser workload of my coworkers while I'm the one doing their designated load. How insulting it is to be either ignored or relied on for EVERY. SINGLE. THING." You huffed. "I'm very sorry if I have done anything to offend you. If you are still uncomfortable from that work party weeks back," He flinched and whimpered at the mention of it. "then I am truly sorry to cross a boundary. But don't ignore it and act like a child." You scoffed.
It pained you to see him like this, to be the cause of it. You liked Tenna, and you've had lonely nights considering if it was more than that. But now? It's for the better. You'll miss this job, and you'll miss the Tenna before all this. It's for the better, despite the tears you'll likely shed later tonight.
"I'm leaving. For good. Goodbye, Mr. -"
He dropped to his knees in an instant like he was met with the Roaring Knight themselves. He clutched the fabric around your knees and you gasped. Your sentence abruptly came to an end, and so did your trail of thought seeing him below you like this. He quickly let go of your clothes, but did not stray any further.
"Please! Oh, please let me explain! I'm- I'm so sorry!" He stammered and gestured wildly with his hands before clasping them in pleading prayer.
You stood awkwardly, shifting in your stance. Your face heated not from embarrassment though you dared to try and gaslight yourself that it was. "Uhm- yea.. Go on." You cleared your throat after letting the disgrace of uncertainty stain your tone.
His head dropped, gaze locked on the floor. His antennae ragdolled alongside it. He became even smaller.
"I'm sorry.." You faintly heard. It was small, but packed a heavy punch. It tugged at your heart strings, begging you to stay. And so you did.
"After that.. that party.." He whined at the thought of it. "I couldn't.. I didn't.. I cant look at you the same." He cradled his face in his hands. Your face flushed at the idea of him looking at you any way other than professionally. What does he mean by that? How does he look at you, and what thoughts come along with it? You shudder- though you don't seem to mind the lewdity of some possibilities-, and he catches it. He quickly looks up at you and holds his hands out, gesturing for you to wait.
"NO! Not- not like that!" His screen flashed red and his mouth formed a squiggly line. "I mean that- that every time I saw you, I thought of how I felt. Not in that way! Please not- ugh this is so..!" He held his now back to normal screen in his hands again in frustration.
You frowned, looking at him the same you did that night.
"I understand what you mean, Mr. Tenna." You knelt down to his level, not daring to reach out just yet.
He dropped his hands and looked up at you, little beads of tears forming at the corners of where his eyes should be. Hell, if he had eyes, they'd be pleading like a little puppy dog right now. You looked away for a second as you felt a blush creep up your neck.
"Really?" He sniffled. You wish he was like this more often. Is that crazy to say?
"Yes, Mr. Tenna. I've.. I've been thinking about you as well." You managed. Okay, now THAT was crazy to say. You wanted to hit yourself for being so open. He didn't seem to care, since he crawled closer.
"But sir, what I don't understand is why you acted so harsh to me these past few weeks?" It was your turn to pout now as you looked back at him.
Perhaps he could sense those weeks of sadness, or he finally felt the gravity of his actions, because his tears quickly streamed down his face and he clutched on to your shoulders. You were taken aback, but at least he couldn't see your thighs rubbing together through the blur of his tears. You patted his back, and he drew closer. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed the side of his head in your lap. The heat of his screen radiated against your legs and core. His antennae mocked his arms and wrapped around you the best they could. His tears began to flow and stain your work clothes, which you would now perversely delay the washing of.
You were no stranger to his past business partner, considering you were his closest employee. So learning he feels remorseful about this finally allows the last piece to click in to place. Clearly untied ends were still present from that time, and he had yet to process them. You don't blame him anymore. For this, for his outbursts, for his mood swings.
With him here, still trying to explain but the words being lost in his tears, you understood. You wish you always did.
"Please I- " He sobbed, unable to form a proper sentence between hiccups. You rubbed the side of his casing with one hand and massaged a shoulder with the other to interrupt him.
"I understand, Tenna."
That's all you had to say before his wails grew louder and he buried himself closer to you. You understand. You truly understand.
Perhaps he should've spent nights at a psychiatrist rather than at the bar, then he would've been better for you. But when you've managed to relieve the once permanent tense of his shoulder, he lets out a long overdue sigh of relief. Despite the weeks beforehand full of anger, denial, and tears, you both enjoy this end to that whole charade. You wont quit your job. And in turn, he wont do this parade of misdirected projection again.
I understand. Was all he could play back in his head. It was all he had ever wanted to hear, and he had heard it from you.
"Please don't leave.." He murmured, so quiet that it was only meant for the two of you to hear. You brought both hands to his head and helped lean him up, though his hands still lingered at the front of your waist. You pushed up off your legs to reach the top of his head to kiss it like he did to you all those nights ago. The shaky breath that left his mouth was unforgettable.
You brought yourself back to his height, though slightly lower still. Bringing your hands down to his screen, but never leaving the warmth of his touch, you wiped his tears gently.
"I'll never leave you." You whispered into the space between you both.