A short Swatchton fic for Valentine's Day, set in the Spamsician AU created by @penbwl.
Pairings: Swatch/Spamton, Elnina/Lanino [mentioned], Miss Mizzle/Tasque Manager [mentioned]
It was a rainy day in Castle Town, and a particular musician was beginning to feel a bit of cabin fever.
“This Lightner holiday is going to [[running up that hill]] me right into the ground,” complained Spamton.
There was no real bite in his voice, though. Swatch knew that their spouse was just letting off steam.
It had been Spamton’s idea, a few years ago, to offer his songwriting services to couples, throuples, and polycules to help them celebrate the Love Day festival that Darkners had co-opted for their own midwinter parties. It had taken a little while to catch on, but with the influx of new Darkners this past autumn, suddenly this year seemed to be THE year where everyone wanted to serenade a sweetheart or two. Or three, or more…
Swatch made themself comfortable in the wingback chair nearest the fireplace, watching Spamton flex his jointed fingers as he sat at the piano. “You’re not fooling me, my dear. I think you’re enjoying yourself tremendously. I should probably get you a set of wings you can strap onto your back. You’d make an adorable Cupid.”
“You’re forgetting that Cupid has a bow and arrow, not just wings. You wouldn’t want to get in the line of… fire,” Spamton’s voice started to trail off. “Wait a minute, ‘I live my life as if I'm a projectile’, I need to write that down.” He grabbed a sheet of paper from the always-present stack of paper on the top of the piano, while Swatch handed him a fresh pencil. After all these years together, they were quite used to these bursts of inspiration from Spamton, and were always equipped to handle them.
The bird did feel a need to point out, “I’m not quite sure that projectiles belong in a romantic song.”
“Hey, not everyone has the [[muskrat love]] that you and I do.” Spamton looked startled at the particular songbite that had come out, and rushed to correct it. “I mean, [[This is not the best place to find an archer]] some folks are unhappy in love and expressing THAT is how they get through this holiday.”
“ ‘Love is a battlefield’, eh?” Swatch couldn’t resist tossing a song lyric back at their spouse.
“Exactly.” Spamton waved his pencil at Swatch to emphasis his point.
“Which makes me wonder what you’re going to come up with for Tasque Manager and Miss Mizzle.”
“Don’t remind me,” Spamton groaned. “I wish I’d never taken that pair on. [[Save me from the half-hearted cat]] [[Baby's got no torrents]] One’s electric, one’s water? How does that even work?”
“And how does it even work between a bird and a puppet?” Swatch said with a smile, getting out of their chair and coming to stand behind Spamton, wrapping their wings around his middle. Spamton leaned back to rest his head on Swatch’s chest.
“You’ve [[really got me]] there.”
He leaned forward again and absentmindedly started running through a set of scales on the keyboard. Outside, the rain continued to fall, the splashing on their attic roof making a pleasant counterpoint.
“Now, on the other hand, speaking of torrents [[everyone is tandem sometimes]], that nice weather couple is a dream to write for.”
“Elnina and Lanino? I agree. The Swatchlings adore them.”
Spamton nodded, and kept playing scales.
“Which of the two commissioned you?”
“The [[fly me to the]] moon-faced gent.”
Swatch gave a sigh of relief on hearing that. “Good, then there’s no conflict of interest.” They went back to their chair, making sure SimiLee hadn’t used their brief absence to curl up there.
“Oh? She wants you to paint something for her beloved?”
“Something with [[nimbiferous, when you're nimbiferous]] clouds, or a [[scorching orb]]?”
“Something ‘as sunny as he is, the light in my sky!’ “ replied Swatch. “Love is certainly bringing in the kromer.”
Spamton made a sound of acknowledgement and asked, “Do you want to hear what I have so far?”
Their spouse closed his eyes, lowered his head, and began to sing.
And now your raining is on repeat
Where every shower is complete
When you're gone I feel cold
Rainstorm, rainstorm - I feel just like a rainstorm
Save me from the chill squall line
When I'm with you, all I have is roaring thoughts
It's time we had some whirlwinds
Windstorm, windstorm - I feel just like a windstorm
Will you hold me tight and not let me blow away
Swatch was silent for a moment, and then said quietly, “I think they’re both going to love it.”
Spamton got up from the piano bench, stretched, and then flung himself into Swatch’s lap. “But I can’t [[so tired of waiting]] until I can write love songs just for you.”
Swatch nuzzled their beak through his hair. “Ditto.”
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