Disclaimer: The TV series "LazyTown" was created Magnús Scheving and is owned by Turner Broadcasting System. This work of fanfiction is solely for entertainment purposes. I do not own the characters depicted in this story, nor do I gain any profit from using them.
This was shaping up to be a fool's errand.
When Robbie had told Sportacus that he wouldn't like anything down in the lair, he'd been partly saying it out of spite, a venting of his frustrations more than an earnest statement. It turned out the other part was unfortunately the truth.
He'd already learned the hard way that Sportacus wasn't all that interested in disguises. At least, not when they were disguises of him. But Robbie wasn't going to risk going down that avenue again. The costumes all lined up inside the big glass tubes were out of the question.
The TV set? Sportacus only ever showed interest in playing sports, running around, and exercising. Robbie didn't think the elf could sit still long enough to get through one infomercial. And judging from the minimalist aesthetic of the airship, he didn't do much shopping anyway.
What about the catapult or the cannon? They might be good for something. But even if Sportacus had any interest in them, Robbie had no idea how to get either one of them above ground. Come to think of it, he had no idea how they'd gotten below ground. Well, never mind. It was a moot point.
All the junk, the broken bits and bobs of machinery, the heavy duty power tools and hammers and building equipment, none of that seemed right either. What about this music box? No, Sportacus didn't seem like the type to be entertained by a plastic ballerina. Those boots that jumped by themselves? Why bother, when Sportacus jumped plenty enough on his own. The cake machine? That was what started this whole mess…
Robbie went back and forth all over the lair looking for anything that could possibly be suited to both of them. For as long as he searched he wasn't able to turn up anything. Everything in the place seemed designed to help a lazy person be even lazier, or had some other more nefarious purpose that Robbie couldn't begin to surmise and frankly didn't want to.
Then he found it.
"The Candy Faker Maker 3000?"
It was a strange blue contraption almost shaped like a jackhammer but with a large funnel on the top, gauges, and a turning crank. Tied to the crank with a bit of string was a small card with cramped handwriting scrawled on it providing some simple instructions. Robbie had to hold the card close to his face to read it.
"Turns candy into healthy stuff in one second…" Hadn't Sportacus suggested that Robbie find a machine that could make something healthy? It was almost too good to be true. He determined to test it out and see for himself.
"Candy in," he directed himself, drawing from a box of old-looking but probably still serviceable taffies. He carefully placed each piece of candy into the open chute. "One, two..." He paused, considering the armful of candy he held, shrugged, and shoved it all in. "Oh, why not." With a chuckle he pounded his fist into the confections to get them into the machine.
With a grunt he hefted the machine upright and braced it against his chest as he turned the crank. It only took a few turns before the device buzzed at him to alert him it was ready to be set back down. Eagerly Robbie flipped open the hatch on the bottom to inspect the results.
It produced a generously plump, deliciously shiny apple. Robbie gasped in admiration of his creation as he took it out and turned it over reverently in his hands. That flawless round shape, that appetizing red skin. It was the epitome of apples everywhere. It was…
"Perfect!"
Even though Robbie was expecting it and waiting for it, the sound of knocking on the silo door made him spring out of his recliner as though he'd been stuck with a pin. It sounded like thunder rumbling down the chute all the way into the lair. His heartbeat which had quickened at the noise only sped up more as he scrambled to answer the call.
The hatch squeaked and squealed as Robbie struggled to push it open from the inside. His arms trembled so much it almost fell shut again on top of his head. But Sportacus caught the rim of the metal lid and helped to swing it open.
"Thanks," Robbie said, trying not to pant too hard after scuttling up the chute and getting it open in such quick succession. Sportacus nodded and they both glanced around, taking in the midday sun over their heads, the quiet and empty grounds around the billboard, and anywhere else besides each other.
Sportacus cleared his throat then and put on a grin. "I got your letter," he said. "Did the kids show you how to use the mail tube?"
"In a way," Robbie muttered, and forced a grin back at him. He brushed at a thread of sweat drawing a line down his temple. "That's okay, right?"
"Of course," Sportacus said. "Your letter said you wanted to show me something?"
"Right," Robbie mumbled. His mouth felt dry and he couldn't swallow. "Well then, would you… like to come in?"
Sportacus made no effort to hide his surprise as his eyes widened, followed closely by the pleasure that softened his expression and made his mustache tweak. "That would be great," he said. Robbie ducked his head down but could still feel the hero's eyes on him and it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
"Let's go, then," he said, more to himself than Sportacus, pinched his nose, and jumped back down the chute.
"So," Robbie said, rubbing his hands together to get a little warmth back in them. His nerves made his fingers icy and bloodless. He opened his arms in a weak display. "Welcome. To my home."
Robbie couldn't control the tremor that ran through his limbs to have Sportacus in his lair again. He hadn't shaken like this since the time he'd ridden the platform way up on the airship. Looking back now Robbie thought facing those staggering heights was easier than this.
The last time the hero had been down here he hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings, more intent on finding Robbie. This time Sportacus had all the time in the world to take a closer look. Robbie had done nothing to try to hide the menacing machines, the mountains of scrap metal and discarded tools, all the odd inventions, the concrete floors and steel girders. He just stood stiffly, wringing his hands, while he watched Sportacus get the lay of the lair… And after taking in all that there was to see, Sportacus looked back at Robbie and smiled.
"Thank you," Sportacus said, "for inviting me down. After last night I didn't think you wanted me to come here again, but… I think it's great, that you have your home back."
"Sportacus," Robbie said, fighting against a stammer, "I needed to— to tell you," he squeezed his hands together so tight that it hurt and he shook them out. Why was this so hard? "What I said before… About what I wanted..."
Sportacus had begun to look concerned for the way Robbie choked on his own words. But at that mention there was a flicker across the elf's face, something that made him glance away from Robbie.
"I understand," Sportacus said. "At least, I really want to. I wish I could help you, Robbie. If there was anything I could do for you—"
"But there is," Robbie blurted out. Sportacus blinked back into focusing on the tall man in the stripy suit.
"What is it?" Sportacus asked.
Robbie took in a slow, careful breath that shuddered through his lungs. "I might not remember who I was, but… Maybe that doesn't matter so much anymore. I know who I want to be." He looked at Sportacus head on. "I just want to be your friend, Sportacus. None of this has been easy. But you've always been there for me, even when I've— well, not been a very good friend to you. So, if you could keep being my friend, I think..." His eyes flicked away in a furtive dart. "That will make me happy."
The sweat was prickling across his scalp in full force now. He felt like a match stick, his entire body on fire with his face taking the brunt of the heat. Sportacus reached out to him and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, Robbie," Sportacus said, not continuing until Robbie finally met his eyes again. "That's all I want, too."
Robbie didn't move or say anything else for a moment, locked in place by Sportacus' steady gaze, the comforting weight of his hand, and his easy smile. The fire razing through his body calmed itself to a pleasant glow. It made his fingers tingle with the warmth and tickled the corners of his mouth until he grinned.
"You," Robbie said, "are a real Sporta-Pal."
Sportacus chuckled. He gave Robbie's shoulder a squeeze and let him go. "That's what friends are for. Speaking of which, there's something the kids wanted to do for you."
"Wait," Robbie said, "I still have something else I wanted to show you, too."
"Really?" Sportacus asked. Robbie strode across the room to the workbench and rooted around among the gizmos and gadgets.
"I just wanted to thank you somehow, and..."
He found it and turned back around.
"And— I want you to have this," Robbie said, walking back over and holding out his offering.
"Wow," Sportacus said, his eyebrows rising, "that's got to be the biggest, shiniest apple I've ever seen!"
"I made it myself," Robbie proclaimed. The statement gave Sportacus pause, halting his hand as he reached to take the fruit. Seeing the mustachioed man's hesitation Robbie said a little more modestly, "I made it for you."
"For me?" One eyebrow arched higher as Sportacus looked between the apple and Robbie's face, searching him with his eyes.
"For both of us," Robbie said. "Do you remember what you said, about finding a machine that can make something good?" Sportacus nodded and Robbie gave the apple a slight shake as he sang, "Well, TA-DA! This is one sportscandy that I guarantee will be the sweetest you have ever tasted. I wanted to share this with you, to say thank you, you know, for… everything."
Sportacus looked at Robbie a few seconds longer, his expression indecipherable until he found a small smile. He took the apple.
"Thank you, Robbie. That's very thoughtful of you." He turned the apple over a few times before shrugging and taking a bite. The hero nodded and smiled some more around his mouthful. "It's good!" Robbie nodded along with him as a grin spread across his face.
"You might even say it's a little less sports, a little more candy," Robbie said with a playful lilt.
Sportacus' chewing slowed, then stopped. The man did nothing for a moment, his entire body seeming to draw in on itself as he went stock-still. His gaze drifted up to look at Robbie, the fine muscles in his face shifting at a crawl.
"Robbie," Sportacus murmured, "this is...?"
The elf couldn't finish his sentence before his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp. The apple slipped out of his hand as he collapsed. Robbie lurched forward and managed to catch the other man before his head hit the floor. Sportacus groped blindly at the support and hooked his fingers in Robbie's vest, clinging on with a sudden weakness that had Robbie wide-eyed.
"Sportacus?" Robbie leaned over the slumping man. "What's happening?"
"S-sugar..." Sportacus struggled to mumble through his lips. "M-melt… down..."
The crystal on Sportacus' chest throbbed to life but it was unlike any other time that Robbie had witnessed. This was not the familiar high pitched beeping and bright white pulse that normally alerted the hero to someone in trouble. The tone was discordant to the ears, abnormally slow and laborious like a wounded thing. And the nature of the light that emanated forth… It radiated a dangerous, dark red.
Robbie stared into the crystal, hypnotized by the distressing clamor and color. It was easy to understand what it was saying: Sportacus was in trouble.
And Robbie realized he had seen it like this, had heard it like this before. He'd done something like this many times before, actually, he remembered…
He remembered…
Everything.
"Sporta-dope," Robbie said softly, clasping his hands over Sportacus'. He tugged the man's fingers out of his vest and released him, letting Sportacus' arms drop limp at his sides. "How many times will you keep falling for this?"
Sportacus lay crumpled on the floor, barely able to do so much as lift his head. He squinted up towards Robbie, his eyes unable to focus any longer. The hero's complexion had quickly waxed and paled, a few beads of perspiration dotting his temples as the sugar meltdown sapped him of all his energy.
Robbie rose smoothly without the weight of the other man hampering his movement. He brushed a couple wrinkles out of his vest, straightened his cuffs, and stepped over Sportacus' prone body, heading towards the exit. Sportacus' head lolled to one side in a feverish twitch.
"Robbie," Sportacus struggled to form the syllables, his voice cottony and faint, a futile plea. Still it caught Robbie's attention and made the tall man hesitate and turn back around. Robbie returned to Sportacus, leaned down by his side…
…and picked up the discarded sugar apple. He buffed it clean on his arm, took a bite, and left.