#rambton

After a moment, Spamton shifted his weight so that he was laying over Ramb, cupping his face in both hands while his thumbs explored the smooth plastic of Ramb's face plate. His left hand caught on an almost-invisible ridge, the last remnants of the crack he'd gotten months ago. Then it slid up to his socket, brushing along the edge. "DO YOU THINK IT WOULD [it really hurts] IF I STICK MY [nose] IN THERE???" What? Ramb was so caught off guard, it took him a second to comprehend the question. He tittered. "In my eye socket?"

Spamton froze, briefly seized with panic at the sudden restriction. It took him a minute to relax, realizing he could easily pull away at any time. Ramb's grip was firm, holding him close, but not tight. It was almost comforting, and he couldn't help but curl into it, trembling. Despite everything, there was a hint of security to it. He could almost feel safe, like he had nothing to worry about, as long as they stuck together. He didn't want this moment to end. Angel, please don't let this fall apart. I don't know if I could survive another betrayal.

"[[Surge Protector]]?" Light laughter bubbled out of Spamton, nervous and tittering. "YOU'VE BEEN [emergency stairwell] FOR A BIT. WHATS THE [[Amazing deals]]?" Ramb reached up to brush his thumb across one of Spamton's red cheek markings. The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he was saying. "I think I want to kiss you." And perhaps it was the alcohol giving him courage, but he knew with absolute certainty he meant what he said.

"Spamton… Please. Look at me, just for a moment." He waited for the puppet to comply before continuing. "When I said I wouldn't be mad… I meant it. I wasn't even sure I was going to say anything at all. I didn't want this to affect our friendship." And it looked like he was failing. Horribly. He felt sick. "So… please. Just… Just tell me no and we'll pretend this never happened."

Shaking his head with a frustrated grumble, he threw the lid back with a loud bang and hauled himself inside. He hadn't used this spot in a few weeks, but there was still a pillow inside. Trash didn’t run too often here; it was always a pain in the ass when they hauled off his shit and he had to run around looking for a replacement. He spent a few minutes pushing around trash bags until he had something that looked marginally more comfortable. Something dug into his back as he settled down, leaving the lid open so that he wouldn't be in total darkness. He did his best to ignore the pain. But all he could think of, as he stared up at the sliver of sky visible between the buildings, was how much he'd rather be back at Ramb's apartment right now.