Tenna's been mentally prepping for this since the final hour of last Christmas came to a soft close. Everything had to be perfect, and naturally, it was! There was no alternative, after all. Mediocrity bred bad habits, and bad habits made for bad TV.
The decor was up to par, and it only took a threat or two to get those bumbling Pippins to fall in line and assemble the myriad of trees they had stored deep in the stockrooms (all with a distinctly Tenna-shaped trim). Red and white lovingly saturated the formerly-just-Green Room, timely wreaths and garland lavishing the walls with colored cheer. Ornaments strung along the furniture sparkled against the overhead lights, and when he leaned in close to inspect each and every one for scratches and smudges, each gave a clear reflection of his own holiday spirit.
He traded in his usual yellows for whites, and his trademark pin was exchanged for mistletoe, not that he was anticipating to kiss anyone this year (or ever again, really). His antennas speared through a poor, defenseless cap, but how else was it supposed to stay on? For a final touch, bells circled his wrists, a bright chime following his every step.
Truthfully, this year's budget didn't stretch far enough to accommodate a staff party, but when was this ever about them? A precious day like this was meant for family! Loved ones! Everything in between! He didn't let all his staff leave early out of the kindness of his heart, rather that they'd be a nuisance to entertain.
Because even more than Christmas, this is when Tenna was given life. He was brought home this very day many, many (though not too many, mind you!) years ago. Fresh from the box with a diamond-like gleam, though with a fragility of talc. Cautious hands carefully brushed packing peanuts off and away from his casing, and he was so fondly carried to his stand, a precious throne just for him. Their eyes never left him back then, so transfixed by what he was capable of, programs dedicated to every one of them. He remembered the romcoms Toriel left as background noise as she prepared dinner. He remembered Asgore hurriedly flipping to the game to check the score when she wasn't in the room. He remembered when the children were glued to his screen, playing games and watching cartoons and decorating his base with stickers.
Ah, sweet memories. But that's all they were now. Memories.
They didn't even spare him a glance today. He didn't know what he expected, though it stung no less. The Dreemurs didn't have much left to celebrate ever since… Well. Everything. He couldn't fix things, no, but was it so wrong to long to be a shoulder to cry on? To have their broken hearts soothed by the shows they knew and loved? He could've been there. For all of them. Even him.
The things he'd do to be able to reach a hand out and draw them back into the light of his screen.
Buuuuut! But, but, but. Tenna wasn't alone! Far from it, in fact. For who else was he to celebrate with other than his darling daughter? While not her first Christmas, it didn't make it any less special. Oh, she adored this time of year. She chirped and shook herself dizzy at the wall of gifts that circled the tree by the cupboard, all in her name, of course. Practically drowning in presents because that's what she more than deserved.
And Tenna… Tenna didn't need anything. Her joy was all he could ask for.
There was no reason to go through her stack of presents, especially at this hour. They'd been tucked away in the rightmost corner of his closet for nearly a year, but fear gnawed in the back of his mind, bit into fraying, fretting cables, because what if something had broken? What if something went missing? What if she despised all the somethings he got for her? What if she had enough of the somethings, the nothings, the everythings and left him just like everyone else—
Focus. There's her train set. And her crayons. And her scarf. And her…
… and finally, her roller blades. Right. All seemed in order. Although, there was one that he didn't recognize. It wouldn't surprise him if some of his spending slipped his mind, but… he couldn't fathom where it came from. The wrapping was incredibly shoddy, for one. Like a child had a sticky hand with it, Kris-like in nature. Taped down barbarically and clearly wrinkled from multiple folding attempts. It stuck out like a sore thumb, and initially, Tenna thought it was some trash that had grown legs and burrowed its way into the nest of gifts. It wouldn't be the first time— with how awful that trashcan was at his job, but the thought of a disgusting creature sneaking and dirtying his little girl's presents made him mad, angry, furious— more than he had any reason to be.
An impulsive arm shot out, and his clamping fingers near crushed the "present's" pitiful attempt at camouflage. It crinkled against his punishing pinch, and Tenna had half a mind to crush it, watch it flatten or burst, but a glimmer of smudged pen along a free corner caught his screen.
From Papa.
Tenna's heart sank into the deepest pit of his stomach.
Papa? That— couldn't be. Tenna was Daddy, and Papa was—
He gasped, fingers hurriedly retreating as if he'd been burned by its wrapping. It clunked hollowly against the floor. Tenna could only blankly stare at it, even switching his channels to test if it was truly there. He'd seen him in the corner of his vision on occasion, cruel little shadows that teased reunion that would never come. The ghost of him lingered in dressing rooms, on stage, under Tenna's sheets.
His screen flickered back to reality. It was still there, in all its ugly glory, a bit dented now after Tenna's ire. He briefly worried for whatever was inside before reality sunk in.
This… just had to be another one of his tricks. How could Tenna still be so naive? All the flattery and late nights and shared beds— none of it had been real; Tenna was just stupid and desperate enough to believe it. All he needed was Tenna wrapped around his finger to get to the top. Tenna was all too eager to fall for it, like a stupid, loyal dog.
It was probably empty. Frankly, it looked like shit. Hurried and careless. He didn't even care much for their child, not the way Tenna wanted. He refrained from doting on her, always reminded Tenna that there was a chance she wouldn't hatch.
In any case, he should just toss it. It's not worth the trouble, but his body often worked faster than his mind could catch up with. The wrapping easily ripped off with a single pull, and a gentle, hesitant pinch of the top was all it took to reveal—
The tiniest red coat. A replica— clearly handmade, some seams crudely yet painstakingly tied together. By it, a headband that mimicked his own antennas, though instead of glass at its end rested a pair of fluffed cotton balls. There was even a pin for her, a star so small that Tenna feared even his most delicate touch would mar it. He placed each piece by his knees, hands trembling underneath their smallness.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Why go through all this trouble? What was the point of wounding him further? Could he sense Tenna's misery across dark worlds?
There was a note, too. Strangely pristine compared to everything else, protected by the clothing placed on top of it.
Dread consumed him. Leave it. It'd only make things worse. Tenna was already stuck on a sinking ship, he may as well dive headfirst. It's only fair. He deserves to know what his smarmy last words would be. It had to be something stupid, like— oooh, Tenna, I'm so glad to be gone! I've tied the knot with some shiny, skinny flat screen! He's not nearly as tall, but he has Bluetooth.
The envelope tore, though Tenna couldn't hold back his strength and managed to shred the entire letter in two. There was still a chance to be left in the dark. Ignorance was bliss. Tenna breathed in deep. He shuffled the pieces' edges together, close enough to pretend that Tenna hadn't ruined it. Tenna knew it was his handwriting by the way he dotted his i's, a full circle instead of a simple dot.
To our little Pipis,
I hope you're not mad that I didn't have anything for you last year. I thought laying you was a gift enough, but your dad didn't seem to think so.
To be honest, I wasn't planning on it this year. I mean, you've already got everything you want, and if you didn't, your dad would've taken care of it already. He's spoiling you rotten. Leaves you real tough to gift for. Your dad's even worse. Hosts are usually the one's doing the surprising, you know. So I got to thinking… what about something that'll make you both happy? You like to be bundled up, and your dad likes the look of his own face, so…
I'm a little out of touch with the needle. It's not my best work, but I'm sure it'll fit you. Don't worry your little shell about getting it ruined. I can touch it up if you end up roughhousing in it.
P.S. Don't tell Tenna, but I don't think you can even read this.
P.S.S. Don't tell Tenna this either, but I always thought Christmas was a crummy holiday until I had someone else to spend it with.
Tenna has to tilt his head to the ceiling to keep his tears from drowning the page.
Why, why, why would he write this? To torment him? He's— he's the one who left. Abandoned him for someone bigger, someone newer, certainly. Why else would he be in such a hurry? Why else would the phone line be dead? Why else would he not come back? He let the split page fall to the floor, using his sleeves to sop up his violent tears.
Tenna knows that wherever Spamton is, he's reveling that he got everything he wanted, all while Tenna is left nursing the heartache. He had to be.
A gentle thump wakes him from his misery.
There shouldn't be anyone here, but when Tenna raises his weary head, he hopes and prays to see a familiar face.
He isn't there, but she is.
"Honey?" Tenna gasps, rising to his feet, though quickly sinking to his knees once more to meet her by the sliver in his door. He holds open his hand to her, and she silently rolls into the safety of his soft glove. He lifts her higher and higher, until she's level with his nose. "What are you doing out this late? You should be asleep."
She squeaks, then slowly rolls around in his palm in… guilt, he thinks. She's yet to share her voice with him, so practically everything she does is up to interpretation. He likes to think he knows her well. Like father, like daughter.
Although Tenna isn't happy to see her sneak out, he can't blame her curiosity. He wasn't exactly being subtle. It was better for her to stumble upon him like this than anyone else, though he lamented his sentimentality. He needed to be strong for the both of them. He clears his throat, putting on a showman's smile. "…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
She leans into him, into the narrow strip of his nose, and he quiets an approaching sniffle as he turns his head to meet her with the flat, comforting static of his cheek. She usually ran cold, the poor thing.
"You'll have to forgive me, dear. I was just…" What was he doing? Wallowing, mainly, all while going through her things. Some father he was. But the could still salvage this, he thinks. His antennas clink together, and he presses a light kiss to her shell before setting her down. "You see, I opened one of your gifts early! I... thought you might like to wear it."
It only took a few moments to cross the room to collect her attire, and when he sat down, she hops onto his broad lap, bouncing on his thighs to peek at what's curled in his hands.
"Ah, ah! Stay still, and close your eyes," he teases, and while she doesn't do so immediately, she eventually settles and chooses to nosily chirp, instead. She's a mouthy one, just like her… papa.
Humming a classic show tune, Tenna starts to assemble his precious miniature. First the coat, held together by a shiny button at its front, and while the coat was a hint too long, it reminded him of the first suit he bought for Spamton, before it was tailored. He never did have a good eye for sizes other than his own.
Her 'antennas' were next, and she was being so good and patient despite her excitement. The moment the headband clasped onto her shell, she shook in place, clearly fond of the way the cotton balls bobbed in the air.
Lastly was her little pendant, a glittering star of yellow and blue, and Tenna naturally worried that a metal pin would poke at her bluebird covering. Though Spamton must've known he would've fret, because it attached to her coat with a sliver of Velcro glued to its back.
"There. Don't you look stunning?" Tenna gushes, almost brought to tears again. "Daddy's style is never going out of fashion! Go on, dear, pose for Daddy!"
She shrilly peeped and did as such, sliding off Tenna's lap to use the floor as her runway.
Tenna's laughter echos in the room, and he claps at every one of her turns and twirls. It's a much needed reprieve from what he's lost.
"Such a lovely show, darling!" Tenna beams, and while the melancholy remains, he finds the will to survive it. "I just wish he could see you like this," he whispers to no one but himself.
"Well! Let's get you ready for bed again, you naughty thing," Tenna reaches down to collect his little girl into the palm of his hands and rises to his feet, an idle finger toying with one of her antennas. "You can open the rest of your presents in the morning."
There's not a peep of disagreement from her, for once.
Tenna returns to a lonely, empty bed after he tucks her in, but at the very least, Tenna can't say he wasn't given a gift.