Chapter Text
Spamton G. Spamton stares quietly at the doorknob.
He could knock. He could ring the bell, hell, he could probably holler and get an answer. He could do just about anything, but frankly?
He’s exhausted, and more than that, he’s scared. The repair shop went under in a tremendous garbage fire; he was evicted completely, lost his shitty apartment and was just about to start digging out of dumpsters for shit to hawk off on people who didn’t know any better before Rudy Holiday knocked some sense into him with no less than seven very persistent phone calls.
So now, here he is, having to crawl to a friend to ask for help.
The Addison checks his phone, just to be sure; the screen illuminates with a message that was definitely Rudy saying it was okay — but Spamton had to scroll through pages of arguing and protests from the bird monster insisting that he didn’t need help before his eyes finally landed on that message.
Spamton doesn’t have much, but he’s trying to keep his pride intact.
He doesn’t have to worry about making an entrance, though, apparently — because while he’s ruminating on exactly how to introduce himself, the door opens. Spamton has to look down to see a little blond doe staring up at him. She’s older than she was when he was nineteen in the hospital, but she’s still got those wide eyes, those buck teeth. The freckles that Rudy says are a spitting image of her sisters.
The girl stares up at him, and then —
screams.
Spamton stiffens, feathers poofing out in shock at the little girl’s shriek. A hearty laugh comes from inside, though it tapers off into a coughing fit pretty quickly.
“Noelle! Kid, it’s fine! Not a stranger. Spam, that you? Come on in, man.”
The Doe — Noelle — ducks her head and scurries down the hall, turning a corner into what must be the living room. Spamton hurriedly tries to slick his plumage down, and, grabbing his only two bags aside from his backpack, makes his way inside. He follows where Noelle had scampered off to, indeed coming upon the living room. The place hasn't changed much realistically, but still felt... different.
"Yeah! T–Thanks." He closes the door behind himself. "S—ss–sorry for the int-intro-intrusion."
Sitting on the long couch is none other than Rudy Holiday, looking as boisterous as the first day Spamton met him. Noelle is hiding against his chest, and Rudy is soothingly rubbing her back. He grins up at Spamton, before gesturing to the loveseat perpendicular to him.
“Hey there! Sit, sit. Make yourself at home. Cause, heh, it kinda is your home now, yeah?” He smooths Noelle’s hair back; she whines softly in return. “Sorry about her. She was so excited to see you, but I think she scared herself silly. Do you remember Spamton, Elly?”
Noelle peeks her head out, glancing at Spamton, before shaking her head and hiding back in her dad’s side. Rudy snorts. Spamton feels the way his body relaxes seeing Rudy — a friendly face does wonders.
“Kids, huh,” Rudy rolls his eyes. “Hey. How was your trip? Taxi ride went okay? You had enough to pay for it? Not cheap, getting a cab from the city all the way to here.”
"I–I budgeted it." He says, setting his stuff down by the other end of the couch. "Th—uh, The driver was p–pretty boring… Oh, shi–sheesh. Almost f–forgot." He pulls his backpack around and pulls out a small gift bag. He offers it to Noelle. "Th–Thought you'd like it, t-the sho-pp got... changed into a t–toystore."
Noelle’s little ears perk up at the sound of toy store. She pulls away from Rudy, however cautious, to reach out for the bag, inch by inch. Securing her fingers around the handle, she yanks it towards herself and jumps from her father’s lap, racing around to the back of the couch to plop herself down and open it. Spamton laughs quietly at her antics. It's a little doll that she can draw on, wash, draw on again. He knew he'd loved that as a little girl, so he hoped she would too. Rudy whistles appreciatively.
“Man, you didn’t have to go and do that! From a mechanic shop to a toy shop, though… eesh. That’s harsh, kid. How are you holding up?”
"I al–al–already feel b–aad, about crashing here." He says in lieu of an answer. "But I-I've." He inhales carefully. "Been th–through worse."
“Here here, I’ll drink to that,” Rudy chimes, waving an imaginary flask, tipping it back with a laugh. His face softens, though, when he looks back at Spamton. Noelle is squealing at the little doll. “I hear you though, seriously. The last couple months have been…” he exhales, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s been rough. For all of us. Elly especially, since… well… they called off the search last week.”
Spamton nods as he finally sits, gaze lowering. "I'm so–suh–so so–sorry." He can’t help but think about Blue, or maybe Yellow; what he'd feel like if they had disappeared out of thin air. He can't really... relate, for a load of reasons, but he was there for his friend’s family either way.
“But hey,” Rudy adds, clearly seeing Spamton’s forlorn look, “Never say never, yeah? Might be a chance we’ll still find her. We’re keeping our heads up. Carol appreciates the extra hand you’ll be,” the deer monster lets his hand fall back into his lap, looking fondly at his young companion. “Angel, what are you, twenty two now? It’s only been a couple of years since I saw you, but you look even older than I remember. You kids grow up fast.”
Spamton scratches his cheek, sheepish. "23, yeah. You–You're hitting 70, ri–right?" he jokes.
“Hah! Doc says I’m lucky if my heart’s as good as a seventy year old’s!” Rudy laughs, before wheezing, hand beating against his chest with a cough. Spamton can’t help but wince, even though Noelle doesn’t so much as flinch behind the couch. It must be a normal sound for her, which is… really sad, actually.
Rudy grins, despite the clearly concerned expression plastered on Spamton’s face. “Nah, I’m thirty eight. Not too shabby for almost forty, huh? Hey, Elly,” Noelle pokes her head up at her name, “you still think your dad is the coolest?”
The little blond doe hums, before shaking her head. “Mister Ant Tenna is the coolest.”
Rudy laughs again. “Hah! Harsh!”
Spamton has a feeling he should know who that is. Well, he probably does, he just files certain information in the back of his head only to be used for important things.
"T–The lady o–of the ha–ha–house is always ri–right, Rudy,” he says instead, trying his hardest to look serious and not smile.
“The lady of the house is mommy,” Noelle pipes up, a little more assertive. Rudy snorts in response, leaning forward just a bit.
"Y–You're lady in–waiting, then. The puh–Princess." Spamron amends. He would reach out and ruffle her hair, but he doesn't want to scare her off. He'd get there eventually. Hopefully.
“Yeah? Well, I guess I can see what you mean. Mister Tenna is every kid in town's favorite grownup.”
"Tenna..." Spamton tries to think. He doesn't watch TV, overstimulates him, especially considering he's still playing with the right medical cocktail.
“Oh, Tenna’s our local television star! He hosts his own local channel right here in Hometown. Not sure you Cyber City slicks would get it all the way out there,” Rudy explains. “He’s been doing television for about … god, pro’lly fifteen years now. He’s the town darling. All the kids get to visit him for Gyftmas.”
“And Mister Dreemurr dresses up like Santa,” Noelle adds, climbing back into her dads lap. Rudy pats her shoulder.
“Yeah, that’s right. Mister Dreemurr — I told you about him, right? My college buddy? — he dresses up as Santa for the kids every year, and they have a holiday special on the local television. Elly and Kris get to be part of the show every year.”
"Y–Y–Yeah I sto–stopped watchin' TV since..." Spamton trails off and doesn't elaborate. He casually pulls his phone out to look him up, curious already about who could capture sweet Noelle's heart. "I'll p–p–probably m–meet him eventually, yeah?"
“Oh, without a doubt. This town’s way too small, so you’re gonna bump into just about everybod— gwduhh!”
“Plus!” Noelle shouts, her hand slapping against Rudy’s mouth to shush him. Her cheeks are burning. “His kid is in my class! Susie moved to school cause Mister Tenna is taking care of her!”
Spamton genuinely laughs, nodding as he leans back a bit, listening. "G–Good to kn–know, you–ur–you're friends wi–with her, then?"
Noelle’s face grows redder, and she pulls her hands away from her father’s snout to cover her own face. Rudy laughs again, louder.
“Hah! She wishes! Nah, she’s too shy to talk. Clams up like a — mmfgh!”
“Daddy! Stop!! Don’t embarrass me in front of Mister Spamton!!!”
“Kid, you’re killing me here! Ha ha ha ha!”
"D–Don't worry, I w–won't say a word." He grins. "Y–You can j–just call me Spamton, I've n–never been much of 'Mister'," He pauses. "I–I was p–pretty shy when I–I was growin' up, too, it's n–not a bad thing."
Rudy picks the squirming Noelle up, tickling at her sides. She laughs, kicking her feet. He winks at Spamton.
“Pretty sure it’s just a Susie thing, if you catch my drift.”
Ah. Spamton blinks, before he taps his nose. "Crystal."
Spamton, deep, deep inside, couldn't help but be a bit jealous of Noelle. Rudy was a great dad.
"D–Did you guys eat?" He asks. "I–I can pay for take-out i–if you haven't. I'm not m–mm–much of a cook."
“Takeout? From where? Hah! The only place nearby is Ice-e’s, and Noelle won’t go near the place.”
“It’s cause the ICEE mascot is haunted!” Noelle shriek-laughs, finally pulling herself away from her dad, rolling onto the floor. She looks up at Spamton, mouth pulled up in a pout. “One time Dess and Azzy burnt an ICEE-E’s pizza box and the box looked at me and I screamed!”
Spamron nods as Noelle explains. "M–Makes se–sense to me."
“Seriously though,” Rudy interjects, “you don’t have to worry. Might be a bump on a log, but I can whip up something nice. Anything you want in particular, Spam?”
Smiling sheepishly, Spamton shakes his head. "I–I'm g–good with wh–wha–ever–whatever."
“How about frozen pizza, then?” Rudy pulls himself off the couch, groaning a bit as he does. “I can pop it in the oven, and you can get to know Noelle. Sound good?”
“Daddy, I don’t want pepperonies.”
“Don’t worry, Ell,” Rudy bends down to bop Noelle’s nose. “You get a special cheese pizza all for yourself.”
And then he turns, limping over into the kitchen. The door closes, and Noelle’s eyes turn back to Spamton.
“Daddy says you had a shop that closed down. That’s sad. I’m sorry.”
The Addison forced himself to keep his face steady, a grin still holding strong. "Eh, stu–stuff happ–ens. I was d–doing my best, that's wh–what matters. I'll g–get another job, ge-get outta your dad's hu-hor-horns. B–But thanks for th–the sorry. I appreciate it."
“Daddy says you can stay for as long as you like. If you stay that means somebody can always take me to school and mommy won’t have to cancel school if it rains or snows.” Noelle picks at some fur on her striped sweater. She frowns quietly. “You talk funny. It’s not bad though.”
"Yep." Spamton thanks the Angel for his years of lying. "I‐It's just a st–stutter, yo–your Daddy kn–knew me before I had–had–had it. I was a –a real m–motormouth."
“You drove race cars, right?” Noelle pulls herself onto the couch, kicking her feet as she speaks. She’s very careful, selecting each word thoughtfully. “The only people who have a car in our town are Mister and Mrs Dreemurr. Everybody walks everywhere. Kris lets me sit next to them in the car sometimes and it’s fun except for when they pinch my side and say it was a ghost.”
The addison laughs a bit. "Y–Yeah, I raced. I w–was good at it too. M–Might have a pi–picture of my o–old car." He slips his phone out again, going to his photos. He didn't have many, but eventually finds an older one. His hair is white in it, and he's grinning with a helmet under his arm. The car is magnificent, covered with stickers from sponsors. Noelle leans in, peering at the photo. She gasps at the sight.
“Wow! You look way different. Your hair is white here,” she says, reaching to pinch her fingers and zooming in. “Your car is red! That’s Kris’ favorite color!!”
"I dye–dye mu–my hair, now." He explains. "Red's m–mmm–my favourite too, the–they have good taste. I r–raced for a long time, I'm p–pretty sure th–this is from my..." He pauses. He doesn't so much as sigh, just exhales. "P–Probably from my la–last race! Wh–Which was a while back."
“Daddy says you were a real good racer. You won a cup, right?” Noelle leans back, resting her chin on her hands. “We have lots of cups here and you can use them all. Even my special one that has snowflakes and a present painted on it”
"My c–cup wasn't fuh-for d–drinking, kiddo. B–But thanks.” Thinking about his past makes Spamton’s heart ache; he misses it, more than anything. He decides not to dwell on it though, instead shifting for a quick change in subject. "Wha–Whaddya l–like to do fo–for fun?"
“Uhm… Dess and me used to like going out to play in the woods with Kris and Azzy. But…” Noelle trails off, eyes shifting to the side as her shoulders drop. “Uhm, I like playing Cat Petterz. I get really rare and cool cats, and I even know how to mod the game to do whatever I want. Uhm. Dess taught me that, too.”
A pause, before,
“Dess disappeared,” she blurts out, like it’s a secret, “She went away and nobody knows where. Mommy and daddy are worried about her, and they’re worried about me, too.”
The Addison gives a quick nod, up and down. "Y–yeah, your Dad m–mentioned that. Do y–you think they need t–to worry about you? I–I won't taaaa-ttttattle,” he adds quickly, “I'm juh–just curious. Y–You're a smart kid.”
“…” Noelle doesn’t answer, for a minute. She threads a hoof through her pigtails, thoughtfully chewing her bottom lip. “I’m sad she’s gone,” she admits, quieter now. “Dess was talking weird before she disappeared. Azzy cried and cried and cried. Kris was in the hospital for a while too. They still have to go to a therapist for it, cause something bad happened but nobody knows what.” Her gaze shifts to her feet. Noelle looks, for just a moment, very small — a glimpse into what the little girl is really feeling. Spamton is quiet, giving her space to say what she wants to say. “I wish she would come home. Mommy shut off her room and nobody’s supposed to go in there.”
"I'm sh–su–sh–sure lots of a–adults tell you I–It'll be okay,” Spamton responds with empathy, “—cause it's okay, not to-to b-beee okay... so I wuh–won't be a b–b–roken record. But I w–will say, th–there was a t–time where I was t–talking weird, in the h–hospital. But it ended up al–alright. I can't say it–it's the same situation, but I wanna tell y–you even when shit is really fucking bad, it'll get better. Eventually." He pauses. "D–Don't tell your Mom I–I cursed in front–on–front of you. Y–You didn't hear th–that part."
Noelle shakes her head, sniffling, before she smiles at Spamton, tears heading her eyes. “It’s okay. Kris knows like, a bajillion different bad words and they taught them all to me already.”
Spamton goes tense. His throat feels dry. He’s really, really bad at taking care of kids; he knows that, but he’s trying. He really is. "Do ya n–nn–need a hug?” He asks, “I — kn–know I'm a stranger, and I kn–know how n–nu–not a lotta people like hugs..."
Please don't cry, he can’t help but think internally. I hate when people cry. Thankfully, Noelle doesn’t. She simply sniffs, wipes at her face, and smiles.
“No, I’m okay. Thank you though, Mister Spamton.”
“You guys almost ready for pizza?” Rudy calls from the kitchen, startling them both.
"Just Spamton, kiddo." He corrects her as he feels his feathers poof back again from Rudy’s call. He clears his throat, trying to smooth them back down with one hand, to… unsatisfying results. "Y–Yeah, what ab–about you, N–Noo–e–Noelle?"
Giggles erupt from the little doe, hooves covering her face in an effort to hide how funny she thinks Spamton looks all poofed up. “Uh-huh. I’m ready; daddy, there’s no pepperonies?”
“No pepperonies, kiddo! Just pineapple!”
Noelle cackles, sticking out her tongue. “Yucky!”
"H–Hey pineap–p–p–pineapple is good!" he gasps, making it that he looks obviously shocked. "I–It's perfect on –on pi–zza! Rudy, wh–what're you te–teaching her?"
“That’s not me, man! Kids got loud opinions!”
Noelle giggles even more. The tears have vanished now; it seems Noelle is doing a little better. She reaches to hook her pinky with Spamton’s. “You and Spamton are just gross old guys, daddy!”
"Hey!" He squeezes her pinky back with his a little bit, wiggling her arm with a grin. "I'm i–in my tw–twenties! I've g–got decades to go!"
“That’s like, a hundred years old already,” Noelle argues as she leads Spamton into the kitchen by his pinky finger. She squeezes just slightly. “But I already know how to spell pineapple because I’m the best speller in my grade.”
"G–Good word, pineapple. It hh–has two good w–words in it! Pra–Practically three words, b–by that point." He jokes.
He lets the little girl lead her into the kitchen, and, well.
Maybe life in sleepy little Hometown won’t be so bad.