Chapter Text
When he woke, the world around him was dark and musty. Not unfamiliar, but the thing he noticed was how oddly warm he was. He had neither blanket above or pillow below, but warmth had seeped into joints and soothed phantom aches.
Spamton yawned, his jaw cracking and getting jammed as he did so. Without much fanfare, he slammed his fist into his jaw and the mouth-piece clicked back into place. Something murmured above him. He blinked, curious.
He crawled out of his little hiding nook, revealing the place he was in was a living room. He was under the couch. Above him, a person slept, their face stuffed into the crook of their arm. Wild orange hair was splayed all over the cushions. The person snored.
Spamton raked his brain for a moment, trying to recall the events of the night before. Surprisingly, the information came easily, as if the ever present tide of static and tick-tick-ticking had briefly receded.
"[[Fun for the Whole Family]]" He muttered.
She grumbled, and then turned in her sleep, her head thoroughly buried in the couch cushions. Her bag tumbled off the couch and landed on the floor. The items inside made an odd clattering as it fell. Unpleasant. The moment was broken.
He pulled away, dropping to all fours. It felt like there were ants in his joints again. He needed to [U-Haul Near You?].
He scrambled away, out of the living room to the kitchen. The lights were off, but Spamton didn't need them to see that the kitchen was fairly lived in. A trash bin sat innocently in the corner, unsuspecting of any nefarious forces skittering around in the dark. Like a tasque, Spamton pounced.
Optin's back hurt like hell, the way it always did when she slept somewhere other than her bed. She groaned as she sat up, rubbing her poor spine. She took a deep breath, enjoying the cool air in her living room.
And then she was reminded by what actually woke her up. There was another clattering in the kitchen. Optin cringed and then stood, taking a moment to brush out the wrinkles in her pants.
Walking into the kitchen, she flicked on the light. Optin was greeted with the sight of her recycling bin knocked over, pieces of paper and plastic strewn about the floor. The fridge had opened a crack, golden light pouring out over gangly limbs sticking out of the ice box.
"Excuse me!?" She said, pulling open the fridge door. She saw her brother trying to cram himself into the small drawer, and heard the telltale sound of crunching ice. She grabbed his ankle and pulled him out.
He hung from her hand like a wet noodle. He squinted at her, like she had interrupted something important. He had a few ice cubes locked between his jaws.
She set him down, making sure that the fridge was closed.
"Do I want to know what you're doing?" She asked.
"HE LPING MYSELF TO S0ME [[Crunch!]]" He said, more ice falling to the floor. Spamton looked longingly at the fallen cubes.
"Uh huh," She said, wiping her hand on her pants. She checked her hand. She eyed Spamton. Then she checked the clock.
"Spamton?" She said.
"YES YES, YES?" He said.
"What the fuck are you covered in?" She said, holding out her hand which was covered in gray muck.
"[[Slime]]"
"You... were not covered in slime when we got here four hours ago." She said.
He shrugged, grinning.
Optin's brain momentarily lagged.
"...Okay. Okay. Okay. It's bath time now." Optin had already prepared a plan to catch him if he decided to run. If he was going to be staying in her house he would not be slimy. Considering how she had to convince him that cardboard was not an acceptable food source, she did not anticipate her brother to cooperate.
"I LOVE GETTING [[moist]]!" He said, rocking on his heels, "[[Gimme Gimme Gimme]] THE CLEAN JU1CE"
That was easy.
Optin squinted at him.
Maybe too easy.
"Alright then!" She said, scooping him up by the back of his collar.
"I'M N'OT A [[Friendly Neighborhood Spiders]] KITCHEN" He said, wriggling, "STOP ELEVATIMG ME!!!"
"I mean, you're correct, you're not a spider kitchen. And thank fuck for that." Optin mumbled, keeping her older brother as far away from her person as possible. It didn't help that he was squirming so much.
"NO!!! I [[Hidden Meaning]] [[Meow Mewo Mwoe Mowo]]" He said, flailing.
"Alright! Alright, I get what you mean," She said. She opened the door to the bathroom and set him on the toilet lid. She looked around her bathroom. She carefully set the rolls of toilet paper on top of the medicine cabinet. Hopefully that would save her some trouble later on.
"Okay, listen to me carefully, or I will take away bathroom privacy privileges." She said. "You will not make a mess of this bathroom. You will not. Don't do it."
"YOU DONT' OWN M,E" Spamton said.
"I- I own all the water in this house however," She said.
"NO!! I CALL [[Bologna]]"
"It's true!" Optin pointed their finger at the pipes in the walls, "I own every last drop of water in these walls, I'll know if even a single one is wasted."
Spamton managed to look skeptical for a second longer before he gave a nervous glance to the walls. He tapped his fingers together.
"DOES FROZEN [[Liquid]] COUNT(?)" He asked.
"...Starting now it does." She said.
"THATS SO MUCH [[Wet]] THO" He said, mostly to himself. He seemed in awe of the fact that someone could count every drop of water in their home.
"Sure it is. Now all I'm asking is for you to not make a mess, please for the love of fuck, can you do that for me?" She asked, leaning down. Spamton shrugged.
"SURE OK WHATERVER"
"Good!" She said, clapping her hands together, "That's great because I need to clean up all the crap you got on the floor. Also the hot water knob is a bit sticky, be careful you don't burn yourself,"
"GOTIT GOTCHA"
She left, shutting the bathroom door behind her. She walked out of the hallway, making sure her footsteps were audible. Then after a minute of standing in the living room, she carefully snuck back to the bathroom door and pressed her ear against the wood.
They heard Spamton gag and the sound of a bottle clattering to the floor.
"[[Yucky!]] THAT''S IS DEFINATELY NOT [[Very Berry]] FLAVORED,"
Optin considered going in. She really did.
She didn't.
She quietly left the hallway and made a beeline for her discarded phone. Scooping it off the ground, she quickly began to text.
She sat on the couch, tapping her foot anxiously.
Her phone buzzed. Banner was calling.
Answering immediately, Optin brought the phone to her ear.
"Optin? everything alright?" Banner asked.
"No. I lied. You need to get over here right now. I'm tired and stressed out and I think I'm going to need help cleaning my entire house." Optin said.
"I'm on my way. See you in thirty." Banner said, and then hung up.
Optin sank into the cushions, her body desperately trying to convince her to fall back asleep.
Then she heard the bathroom door open, and soft squelches patter down the hall. Spamton stood in front of her, looking for all the world like a wet rat. It hadn't even been five minutes.
"OK,, SO, , UM,," Spamton said. He shifted in place, fiddling his thumbs almost nervously.
Optin let out a long, long sigh.
"You got in the water with your clothes on." She said.
Spamton looked down at himself, as if only just now discovering this, "OH"
"Well? What is it?"
"OK SO,, OK SO, OK SO, UM, NOTHING CAUGHT F1RE TOO M UCH,"
"What-"
Spamton lay curled on the couch, actually on top of it this time, smothered in several towels. His clothes were in the wash without too much struggle (read: hell). He snored softly, his hair sticking out and little hands bunched up in the impromptu blankets.
Optin was splayed out on the floor, soaked to the bone and contemplating her life choices.
There was a knock on the door.
"S'unlocked," She called.
Banner opened the door and carefully stepped inside. They looked worse than Optin felt. Banner probably hadn't slept at all since Optin had first called the group chat.
"Where is- holy shit." Banner said, taking in the sight of her living room.
"Hey," She said.
"Hi," They said back, "You okay?"
She groaned, and sat up, "Probably. Just cold and wet. He's the lump on the couch."
Banner set their bag down and approached Spamton with something like awe in their eyes. They knelt, a hesitant hand held out.
"He's... a puppet," They said.
"Yeah," Optin agreed.
Gently, as if afraid they'd break him, Banner smoothed out the hair on his brother's head. Spamton didn't react at all, save for a small annoyed grumble.
"Jesus fuck." Banner said, standing.
"Yeah,"
"Is he in pain?" They asked.
Optin shrugged, "If he is then he doesn't act like it."
"...Did you... get any answers out of him?"
"No," She said, "I don't think he remembers much about whatever the hell happened."
Banner sighed and sat next to Optin on the carpet. They raked their hands over their forehead, deep in thought. They glanced up, surveying her house once more.
"There's soap on the ceiling." They said.
"I thought it'd be hard to give him a shower." She said.
"I imagine it was," Banner said, "It was always a pain to get him to do anything he didn't want to."
Optin chuckled, "Nah. Turns out he really likes water. Maybe too much."
Banner smiled, though it was weak.
She rested her head on their shoulder, enjoying the silence much more than before.
"Want me to help clean?" They asked.
"Yes please." She said.
Banner was experiencing emotions they didn't even know they had. Everything inside them was a slurry of shapes and colors and they didn't know how to describe themselves anymore. Every few minutes, they couldn't stop themselves from going back into the living room and checking that Spamton was still there. Mangled, possibly permanently, but alive.
All they'd ever wanted was dangling in front of them like a star on a string. Do they grab it and risk burning their hands? Risk losing the little light they'd only just found again?
They might have exploded if it weren't for Optin's presence. She looked like crap, but she still grinned and joked and didn't mention his frequent visits to the couch.
Cleaning thankfully only meant putting out some fans and picking up some stray pieces of trash. Banner offered to mop the bathroom floor but Optin declined.
"Scorch marks aren't going to get washed out with just a mop," She said.
They looked at her, an incredulous eyebrow raised.
"Don't ask," She said.
Banner, wisely, didn't ask.
They were looking for another task to do when they heard Spamton fall off the couch with a screech.
Banner ducked back into the living room, Optin hot on his heels. The lump of towels that contained their brother was on the floor, his limbs splayed out. He squirmed about, tangled in the towel mess.
"WHERE-????"
Banner swept forward and carefully lifted the towel away from Spamton's face. Spamton, face now freed, looked relieved for half a second before his eyes locked onto Banner's. His face immediately fell into a distrustful scowl, or as much as it could when one couldn't stop grinning, and hissed.
Banner pulled their hand away, suddenly aware of how large Spamton's teeth had become.
"Spamton!" Optin said, appearing at their side, "No hissing at your siblings!"
"THATS' NOT-" Spamton reevaluated his squinting skills, "HUH'"
"Spamton?" Banner said, cautious, hopeful, "Optin said- you remember me, don't you?"
Spamton stared a moment longer, Banner almost pinned to the spot. They waited, their breath locked away inside their chest, a squirming thing desperate to claw its way out.
Spamton snapped his fingers, once, then twice, "YOUR'E- YOUR'E= YOU---"
A final snap, "[[Banister]]!"
The breath was abruptly punched out of their chest.
They looked at Optin, desperate. She set a hand on his shoulder, a grin on her face that betrayed some sort of sorrow.
"Least you're not optifine." She said.
A soft laugh escaped them, and they wiped away a few rebellious tears. They pulled Spamton in for a hug, holding him tight. It didn't matter, now. Their family was whole for the first time in years, and that's what mattered most.
The moment was ruined when Spamton began to squirm.
"WHERS MY [[$99.99 Tailor Fitted Suit]]!/?" He said.
"You're not getting that back for at least another four hours." Optin said, "That thing is on its third wash cycle as we speak and it still reeks."
Banner gasped "I brought!!!" They stood up, toppling Spamton to the floor. They raced over to their bag and opened it, excitement bubbling forth as they pulled out a stack of clothes, "your old clothes!"
The clothes were set in front of Spamton, who reached forward and began to slowly sort through them as if they were concepts never before imagined. The towels pooled around his waist, showing off the strange joints and cracks that segmented his body.
Banner was reminded rudely of the rumors that used to float around after Spamton's disappearance from the public's eye. They were fairly certain they were all just that thought: rumors. Video once pointed out that if the rumors had any amount of truth to them they would have had some sort of trail- this was heard from this and that was heard from that. The fact that every story varied so wildly and there wasn't any proof of it coming from the castle made every theory flimsy.
Spamton lifts a shirt that is twice his size from the pile. Spamton had always been short, but...
They clapped their hands, standing up sharply, "Who wants some soup?"
Optin gives them a strange look but Spamton seemed delighted.
"SOUP sUSTENA NCE" He said, trying to scramble into the kitchen. Optin quickly squashed him back into the floor.
"Put some clothes on first!" She yelled.
Spamton had to stand on his chair to be able to reach his soup. This highlighted the fact that the shirt he was wearing hung off him like a dress. He was eating soup like he was afraid it would jump out of the bowl and crawl back into the pot.
Besides him, Optin valiantly tried to match his vigor, stuffing her face with noodles. Spamton tried more than once to reach over and steal her bowl, which was met with a scowl and giving him a reprimanding poke each time. Banner sat on the other side of the table, watching the scene with pleased eyes.
"There's more soup where that came from, guys, no need to fight over it." They said.
"DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR" Spamton said, brandishing his spoon at them.
Banner couldn't stop the smile spreading across their face if they'd tried. It was far too early in the morning for any living soul to be doing anything, even the normally nocturnal werewires were silent. The whole apartment smelled of cleaning products and soup and something musty. They were sore and tired and they found there was nowhere else they'd rather be.
Perhaps they hadn't been hoping in vain after all.