"CUT!"

Yakko heaved out a sigh and yanked the wool beanie from his head. His hair, damp with sweat, stuck straight up in spikes until he ran a hand through it in an attempt to tame it. He was still in his slacks, scarf, and gloves, and was one shred of decency away from peeling them off his body in front of the whole crew. But the chorus girls had just arrived on set and he was fourteen and didn't think even he had the confidence to pull that off. Though he noticed that even the girls were airing themselves off with their feathered fan props, despite the fact that their costumes barely covered all the necessary parts. Not that he'd noticed. Much.

"Take an early lunch Yakko," Paul, the director, said. He used a forearm to swipe the sweat from his forehead. "Maintenance is coming in to fix the darn air conditioning."

Yakko could have hugged him in gratitude, but instead he settled for a smile and a salute. They were doing the final shoots for 'Yakko's Universe,' a surprisingly sweet song in the midst of the normal crude humor and zaniness. Then later today was dress rehearsals for this season's Christmas episode, 'A Christmas Plotz,' despite the fact that it was tail end of August and the dead center of a wicked heat wave. In a cruel twist of fate, the air conditioning had sputtered and died halfway through the third take of his universe song, turning the soundstage into a veritable oven. Fa la la la la indeed.

And now that he was on his break…he grinned…he could go to Bugs Bunny's talk. The famous rabbit was coming on the lot to lecture about the use of toon skills for entertainment, and Yakko had desperately wanted to attend. Not only did it sound fascinating, but Bugs was secretly his idol. Or maybe not so secretly, considering Dot's annoying habit of referring to Bugs as "Yakko's toon crush."

As he yanked off his scarf, he searched for Wakko and Dot. He needed to tell them where he'd be or else they'd throw a fit. If anything they'd want to tag along with him…again. They always wanted to know where he was, what he was doing and why, so they could copy him – did all little sibs do that, or just his?

Wakko and Dot had been bickering with each other earlier – something about an eaten makeup case, but he'd been too afraid to ask – and he'd been hoping they'd have cooled down while he was singing. He reddened slightly at the thought of his siblings arguing on set in front of the crew. For some reason he felt as though it was his fault every time they did it. Plus, he could hear his siblings muttering threats to each on set while he was trying to sing. Between that and the ridiculous heat already putting him on edge, he'd been ready to strangle both of them with his scarf.

Yakko caught sight of them offstage near the catering table. Apparently they had not cooled down – in fact, Dot had taken a page out of his book and was currently had Wakko in a headlock with her scarf. Great minds thought alike, Yakko supposed. Wakko, whose eyes were bugging out slightly from the pressure, retaliated by nearly sticking his beanie up her nose.

Noticing one of the cameramen rolling his eyes at them, Yakko threw off his remaining gloves and marched toward them.

"Alright alright, break it up you two before I need to get a crowbar to do it. And trust me, you won't like where I'll put it."

"He started it!" Dot said, releasing the scarf to point at Wakko, who gasped for breath, "He ate my makeup case, then laughed about it – "

"Only because when I burped, this blue, sparkly cloud came out! C'mon, how is that not funny?" Wakko demanded.

Yakko growled and dragged a hand across his face. Their shrill voices were causing a pinprick headache in the center of his forehead.

"That was my Smurfette Electric Lightning Blue Eye Shadow you dope!"

"Who cares, you look like a clown when you put that stuff on anyway, and nobody likes clowns – "

"Says the one who hides under a bed every time he sees one – "

"Can it you two!" Yakko shouted, the heat making his brain fuzzy. "It's enough you messed up my take, do you have to ruin my break too?"

They blinked and fell immediately silent. A pang of guilt shot through Yakko at their upset faces, but it was smothered by a savage voice in his head. Good, let them feel bad, he thought, why do I always have to be the mature one? If they can yell at each other, than so can I, I'm their brother too…

"Ah, combating yelling with more yelling," said a nasty voice from behind him. "Well handled, I must say, Yakko."

Yakko's fists clenched. He inhaled through his nostrils. He did not turn around, but the squat man that belonged to the annoying voice circled in front of him.

"It's no wonder they look up to their charming older brother," Thaddeus Plotz continued snidely.

Yakko's temper surged, as hot and thick as the room around them, but he willed it down. "I wasn't asking for comments from the peanut gallery. And I do mean peanut," he grumbled.

Plotz ignored him. "Paul, Yakko will be back from his lunch in twenty minutes in order to reshoot," he called to the director.

Yakko opened his mouth to protest, but Paul said raggedly, "The AC's busted Thad, I thought I'd give the kids a break. Besides, I think we got the takes we need, post can work with what we have."

"If we break now the reshoots will be late, which will make dress rehearsal late, and I'm a much too busy man to be waiting around while this one – " Plotz jabbed a pudgy finger at Yakko's chest, " – flounders around trying to do his job right. He will be doing the song again. From the top. Those previous takes are useless."

Yakko spun around. "Useless? Are you kidding me? Were you even watching them, or were you trying to ration the crew to one carrot stick each to save a buck?"

From behind him he heard Dot's sharp inhale, and could feel several crew members' eyes on him. Plotz's own eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me for a minute, Paul. I need to have a quick one-on-one with the, eh, talent."

Yakko's hair bristled. He stood up taller as Plotz approached so the CEO would have to crane his neck to talk to him.

Plotz clasped his hands behind his back and said with a sinister air, "First and foremost, Yakko, you do not talk to the CEO of Warner Brothers Animation like that ever again. Is that clear?"

When Yakko didn't answer, Plotz practically roared, "I SAID, IS THAT- "

"Yes, it's clear, jeez!" Yakko hissed, his face coloring now that every eye in the soundstage was now on him. Didn't they have anything better to do than stare at him?

"Good. Second, you will be doing the take all over again because I could tell you were not putting your fullest effort into your performance. Your voice sounded mediocre at best."

Dot and Wakko stared at Plotz as though he had sprouted wings. Yakko snapped, "Ya might wanna get your ears checked, T-Pizzle, I think you've got a chunk of that fake snow stuck in there. The director didn't say a word about the song, and I think he knows what he's talking about. Heck, you hired the guy!"

Yakko chose to ignore the fact that he was neatly dodging around the subject; if he was being completely honest with himself, his singing wasn't up to his usual standard. It was hot and he was tired and he just wasn't giving it his all. He knew he could do better. But how did Plotz know he could do better? Aside from perhaps his siblings, Yakko was positive he himself was the only one who knew his own abilities well enough to recognize when he was half-assing it.

"Stop calling me T-whatever, I am the CEO of this company!" Plotz snapped, making Yakko smirk, "And as such, I should know better than anybody when my own hires aren't doing their jobs correctly. Paul is. You are not. Suck on a lemon, do some vocal warm-ups, I don't care – just drop the diva routine, get your ass back out there and sing like I'm paying you to!"

Breathing heavily, Plotz had only turned halfway around before catching sight of Wakko and Dot. He reeled back around to face Yakko and said, "And don't ever let me catch you speaking to your brother and sister like that again, is that understood?"

Yakko, already ink-faced from the previous reprimand, felt his jaw drop. Over Plotz's shoulder, Wakko and Dot exchanged bewildered looks before turning back in their brother's direction. The whole soundstage had gone silent.

"Where do you get off telling me how to treat my own family?" Yakko said, much louder than he'd intended to but well beyond caring.

"Yeah," Dot added, "That's none of your business – "

"Be quiet!" Plotz snapped at her, "It is my business if I don't agree with – "

"Don't yell at her!" Yakko and Wakko shouted together.

"Who's yelling?" Plotz asked in a snidely calm way.

"Me, if someone thinks they can order my sister around," Yakko said, struggling to keep his voice down.

"Order your – I am your boss, did you forget that?"

Yakko ignored him. "Don't tell me how to talk to my siblings, that's our business, not yours! Your first priority may be your paycheck, but mine is my family, so you can just take your opinions and stick them up your – "

But he stopped dead, because the look that crossed Plotz's face at the word "paycheck" gave Yakko the impression he may have well just stabbed the man. If the situation wasn't so ugly it might have actually been entertaining to watch Plotz's face shift from shocked, sickened, outraged, then – worst of all – eerily, horribly calm.

"Go to my office, Yakko. I'll meet you there momentarily so we can continue our little talk. I'd hate for you to have to embarrass yourself further."

"But Bugs' lecture is in ten minutes!" Yakko blurted.

A nasty smile smeared across Plotz's face. "Well, then it really is a shame you couldn't behave yourself. My office, Yakko. Immediately."

A good two dozen horrible names for Plotz sprang to his mind, and Yakko opened his mouth to call him every single one of them. But behind Plotz's smug, fat face he could see Wakko frantically shaking his head and Dot making worried slashing motions across her throat. With an unbelievable amount of effort, Yakko forced his jaw shut.

"Fine," he snarled through grit teeth. Turning on his heel, he marched past the stunned camera crew. He thought he noticed Wakko reached out to him, but he didn't look at his siblings either. He flung open the door to the soundstage, not caring that everyone was looking at him. They'd probably never seen him lose his cool before. So what? He was fourteen, weren't teenagers allowed to be moody? He was tired of having to be perfect all the time. Tired of the country watching and critiquing his every move. Worst of all, he was tired of having to be a child in front of camera and an adult behind it, and never the teenager he was. Everyone on the whole stupid crew could take their shock and stick it where the sun didn't shine for all he cared.

"Um... Mr. Warner? Hello?"

Lost in his own angry thoughts, Yakko was surprised to find that his feet had taken him all the way to the hall outside Plotz's office. They were pretty used to leading him there, after all. He looked up at the voice. Plotz's secretary, Denise, was eying him warily and waving a timid hand to get his attention. Not that it was much of an effort, as she had half-hidden herself behind her monstrous computer at the sight of him.

"Hi!" he said in a voice so falsely cheery they could have both drowned in his sarcasm.

"Um," Denise stuttered, scooting the tiniest bit away from him, "are you... are you here to see Mr. Plotz?"

Yakko looked pointedly from Denise to the door, which read 'THADDEUS PLOTZ, CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER,' then back to her.

"Gee, whatever gave you that idea? I thought people only came by his office for the scenery?" he snapped.

She blinked at him, insulted. He could hardly blame her - he'd surprised himself at how nastily the comment had come out.

"Well if you're here to see Mr. Plotz you may wait for him in his office, he'll be returning shortly," she said curtly, and returned to her computer without a second glance.

"Yeah, I was aware of that," Yakko retorted before he could stop himself. Denise didn't act as though she'd heard him.

As he shut the door behind him, Yakko realized he'd never been alone in Plotz's office before. Denise must've really wanted to get rid of him. A wave of guilt surged through him at this thought. Denise had worked for Warner Bros. for several years and had always been perfectly nice to him. He had no right to treat her like he had. He was never rude to people - well, at least not to people who didn't deserve it, like Denise. Embarrassed, Yakko shrank in his seat, vowing to apologize to her later when he felt he could control himself.

But after five minutes, Yakko felt his temper beginning to bubble again. Plotz must be taking his sweet time on purpose to make sure Yakko would miss the Bugs Bunny presentation. Grumbling to himself, Yakko glanced about the office. He was already bored with it - he'd been here dozens of times before. It was much smaller than the comically large one portrayed on the show. It was more intimate and meant to impress, its intention being to woo clients and stars. Plotz's gleaming desk took up nearly one half of the room, while the rest was devoted to a comfortable couch and two plush armchairs. The walls were adorned with framed photographs of Plotz smiling broadly with various celebrities, directors, and executives. There was even a prestigious-looking photo of Humphrey Bogart with what looked like the actor's signature below. But Yakko, who'd stared at the photos so many times before while he tuned out whatever Plotz was berating him on, could have recited the contents

With the clock on the wall displaying that Plotz was now running ten minutes late, Yakko's temper was at a rumbling boil. Bugs was going to be on the lot in five minutes, and Plotz had yet to show his face. That squat little troll of a CEO was doing this on purpose. There was no way he was going to see the rabbit now. A low growl rumbled out of his throat as his fists clenched. He needed to do something, he couldn't just sit here and take it - Yakko jumped to his feet. Not quite sure what he was about to do, but recklessly determined to do it nonetheless, he marched to the other side of Plotz's desk. It was odd, viewing things from Plotz's perspective. Somehow this side of the room seemed higher, giving it a rather imperious quality that he was sure Plotz enjoyed. He glanced down at the desk, which was annoyingly tidy: there was nothing on it aside from a phone, a Rolodex, a leather bound planner, and a picture frame. It was the picture frame, though, that caught his eyes.

It wasn't a professional photograph like the ones on the walls, but rather a Polaroid, and an old one at that. Yakko picked it up for a closer look. It was of three children, one of which, Yakko realized with a smirk, was undeniably a young Plotz. From the looks of it he couldn't be more than thirteen at the time. He was a bit smaller (which Yakko wouldn't have believed possible if he wasn't holding the evidence) and his hair was a dark buzz cut, but he already had the heavy brow and massive jowls. Beside him were two younger boys that were close in age and appearance - were these his brothers? Cousins? Yakko frowned: he'd always assumed Plotz was an only child, since he'd never heard him mention any family whatsoever.

Shrugging, Yakko placed the frame back on the desk and turned to the drawers. His heart raced so that ink pounded in his ears. With a quick glance to the door, he tugged open the top drawer. Pencils, pens, scribbled-on post-its, Tylenol - boring. He closed it with sense of anti-climax. He tried the next drawer - a big bottom one - and it was locked. Feeling as though somehow Plotz had planned this in advance to aggravate him further, he closed this one too with an angry grunt. He tugged the opposite drawer half-heartedly, expecting it to be locked too, only to have it gently glide open, revealing a robustly full file index. His heart jumped. Jackpot!

Hands shaking slightly, he flipped through the labeled folders. Schedules... development... payroll... wait, payroll? Checking the door again, Yakko tugged out the folder. His eyes widened. It contained the contracts of dozens of the studio's stars, including several from Animaniacs! He enjoyed himself for a few minutes perusing the various contracts, goggling at how much Rita was paid, and snickering at how much they deigned to pay the Hip Hippos. He took vindictive pleasure in finding that he was paid a great deal more than the Goodfeathers - being derived from Scorsese had bestowed hefty egos on all three pigeons.

Growing bored with the folder, Yakko replaced it and continued to thumb through the others. He'd found little more of interest and was about to shut it again when a label in the far back of the drawer caught his eye:

'Warner, Yakko'

He reached for it without hesitation. For a moment he wondered what he could have possibly done to warrant his own folder, but his question was answered immediately: it was filled with pages and pages of reports detailing his various wrongdoings. Every argument with a tutor, every silly prank, every time he showed up late - it was all there. He rolled his eyes. Figures that Plotz would devote drawer-space to detail all of his imperfections. Though he couldn't help sniggering at a few - he'd forgotten about that time he'd hidden a live gerbil into Flameil's purse.

But the papers changed as he continued to flip through them. The next batch had the Toon medical symbol - a rubber chicken wrapped around a seltzer bottle - stamped on top. With a jolt he realized what they were: progress reports of his mental health evaluations. "Socialization skills show incremental improvement..." "Discomfort with unexpected physical contact, suggest immersion therapy..." "Continues to reject authority, traditional discipline deemed ineffective..." "Identifies strongly with brother and sister, has difficulty identifying as an individual..."

Yakko found that his hands were shaking again, but this time not from nerves. How dare Plotz keep something so personal in his stupid drawer? Yakko himself had never seen these, and they were about him! Wasn't there some kind of confidentiality law or something? What did Plotz do, read it whenever he needed a good laugh? Yakko growled. Of course he would. Laughing at crazy Yakko and his crazy siblings... it wouldn't matter to him that Yakko secretly wanted to get better, desperately, but found it so hard, problems weren't easy to fix when they were in your own head...

Grabbing the papers in a fist so that they crumpled, Yakko yanked them out and shoved them behind his back. No one could blame him for stealing something that was about him. Nobody should see those, ever. Those were supposed to be private. He was going to have a strongly worded conversation with Scratchy after this. Yakko slapped through more pages, hunting for any further testaments to his insanity. But the medical reports seemed to have tapered out, leaving only copies of his contracts, the lease agreements for room and board on the lot... But his fingers fumbled as he gave pause for a second time. The papers at the back of the folder were different - some of them newspaper clippings, some of them ticket stubs, others printouts from the computer. And they were all about him and, upon closer inspection, every appearance he had made outside of the studio. In fact, they were nearly all pertaining to some kind of performance he'd done, mostly singing.

"What the..." Yakko murmured.

He, Wakko, and Dot did numerous appearances outside Animaniacs, but why on earth would Plotz trouble himself with them? That was all handled by their agent and the promotions department, not the by the CEO of a multi-million dollar studio. Yet at the same time it didn't look as though Plotz was handling anything... the newspaper clipping of that time he'd sung at the Hollywood Bowl came after the fact. If anything it was a... memento? Yakko scoffed. That couldn't be. Not Plotz. Plotz wouldn't want anything to remember him by, not when most of his time was spent trying to forget that Yakko existed. But then what were these computer printouts from Denise's email, detailing the exact dates and locations of Yakko's performances? The showtimes were even highlighted... it was almost as if...

No. Yakko shook his head as though trying to shake off a fly. It couldn't be. Not Plotz. Plotz couldn't actually want to see him perform, let alone attend those performances -

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

Yakko jumped so badly that his toon abilities kicked in and he cleared an easy five feet of air beneath him. His ears sticking straight up in shock, he stumbled upon landing, hiding the file behind his back as though it would help. Plotz was standing in the doorway, his unblinking eyes reduced to slits as he stared Yakko down. Yakko glanced at the clock. Plotz was twenty minutes late. His annoyance helping him regain some of his composure, Yakko said flippantly, "Oh, you're here. I was this close to filing a missing persons report."

"Put. The file. Back where you found it. Now."

The fact that Plotz was speaking quietly and calmly was far more chilling than his usual bellowing. This had a very good shot at being the angriest Yakko had ever made him, which was really saying something considering Yakko's track record. Feeling it was probably best for his health if he obeyed him, Yakko dropped the file back into the drawer. He then circled the desk and plunked himself into the chair that Plotz was now pointing at. Plotz eyed him for a full minute without speaking; Yakko stared blankly back at him, trying to project innocence while also making a mental note of the nearest exits. Finally, Plotz sat himself behind his desk, never taking his eyes off Yakko.

Plotz relaxed back in his chair, steepling his fingers and still not speaking. Yakko ground his teeth; he knew he was busted, and Plotz was savoring every minute of it.

"Well, well, well..." Plotz drawled at last, "Where to begin..."

"Maybe you could start with an apology for being so late. Just a suggestion," Yakko said.

He'd meant to set Plotz off; the lack of screaming like a crazed buffalo was starting to unnerve him. Unfortunately Plotz didn't bat an eye as he said, "I'd watch my mouth if I were you, you're a hair away from having your contract terminated as it is."

Yakko was glad he wasn't drinking anything, or else he would have done a spit take. "W-What?" he sputtered, his cool facade crumbling to pieces. His heart was suddenly fluttering, and the ink was draining from his face. Plotz wouldn't, he couldn't -

"You heard me. I must say I overestimated your intelligence - I would have thought even you would have realized that mouthing off to the CEO of the company that employs you wouldn't have consequences. Apparently not, since I've returned to my office to find you looting through my personal things. Tsk tsk, Warner."

"You mean my personal things," Yakko blurted, gripping his chair so hard he thought he might break it.

At this, finally, Plotz's mask of calm cracked. His brow furrowed, he sounded much more like himself as he snapped, "Your personal - what on earth are you talking about?"

Though he was finding it very difficult to speak with his mouth so dry, Yakko said, "You had stuff about me in there, my therapy reports from Scratchy - I mean, Dr. Scratchensniff - y-you can't have that, it's, it's patient confidentiality, you're not supposed to see - "

Plotz cut across him, "If you'd chosen to read your own contract more closely you would have noticed that I can see those reports."

"I - what?"

"You and your brother and sister are minors with no next of kin and a laundry list of mental problems. I elected to oversee your progress as the status of your mental health directly correlates to your performance on my television show. It's a clause that's clearly stated in your contract, which, may I remind you, you signed."

His embarrassment over his lack of familiarity with his own contract began to give way to fury as Plotz's words settled in.

"Wow Plotz, that was so cold you made Siberia look balmy. So that's how it is, huh? You don't care that we're messed up in the head, as long as the episode airs on time and your salary rolls in?"

"Welcome to show business," Plotz said coldly.

"You were born to be a CEO, you know that?" Yakko growled, his voice rising, "We're not toons to you, we're just dollar signs, that's all you see you money-grubbing snake, that's probably all you see with anyone you've ever met, just what they can do for you and your - "

Plotz stood up suddenly in his chair, which wasn't an altogether impressive move considering his size but the point got across just the same. "Did it ever occur to you that there are scripts that didn't even make it out of the writer's room because I thought they were insensitive to your situation? Or that there were interviews that never made it on the calendar because I didn't trust the reporter not to ask you insulting questions? No, of course it didn't, because according to you, I'm a - what did you call it? A 'money-grubbing snake!'"

Plotz had surpassed his usual stage of angry walrus-bellowing and was now practically molten with rage. "You know, this is why I hate dealing with teenagers. You just know everything there is to know about the world - which you believe you are the center of - and never even consider, for one moment, that someone with more experience and authority could possibly know more than you about anything, be it your career, your family, your – "

"Fine," Yakko said evenly, realizing he was standing now too, "you know more about my stupid career, I'll give you that one Mr. CEO… but you don't know anything about anybody's family. I've never heard you mention so much as a second cousin twice removed in the five years I've been on this lot. For someone who claims to be such an authority on family, wouldn't you think they'd come up a bit more?"

"Just because I don't come over to your dressing room every morning with the family scrapbook doesn't mean they don't exist, Warner! You don't know a thing, a single damn thing, about my family! Don't talk about what you don't understand!"

Plotz bellowed this so loudly Yakko could have sworn the framed pictures trembled on the walls. As frozen and silent as a statue, Yakko gaped as Plotz continued, "Yes, I know what it's like to crawl your way out of the gutter. I know what it's like to be born in a dead end town with no future and nothing before you but minimum wage and toil and obscurity. And I know what it's like to have siblings, Warner!"

A ringing silence followed the roar of his name. For a moment Yakko wondered if Denise had fled for cover, because he certainly wanted to. But that would have required him to move his legs, which seemed to have transformed to lead. He stared.

"I grew up with a large family in a small town. People were born there, raised there, worked there, and died there," Plotz continued. His voice had fallen to a low, tired growl. "My brothers – it was all boys – my brothers and I used to ride our bikes to the orchard and throw rotten apples at old bottles for fun. But when we got older, I saw them take the same jobs in the same town that my father had taken, and his father before him… I couldn't stand it, I wanted more for myself, more for my family… I didn't want my father and brothers to die, in that same town, forgotten. I moved to California just as toons were breaking into the industry. I wasn't like you and your brother and sister: I had no natural talents, no charisma, no idea what I was doing. I was a country boy in the big city. But the one thing I knew I could do was work hard, so that's what I did. I worked hard, I came in early and stayed late, and eventually it got noticed.

"But when I went home, it was different and the same all at once. My brothers had wives, children… my name in lights was not nearly as impressive to them as their youngest tying her shoes for the first time. I was furious that they wouldn't recognize how hard I worked to make a name for myself, that they were just so content to settle. Or what I thought was settling, at the least.

"I can't remember the last time I called any of them," he finished in a matter-of-fact way.

They sat in silence, both staring at things beyond the room. For once in his life, Yakko could not think of a single thing to say. He felt a strange, dull ache in his chest; it was distant and unfamiliar, as though it were someone else's pain and he was just holding it for them until they were ready for it again. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to be closer to Wakko and Dot, but they seemed so far away in the soundstage on the lot.

Shaking himself, Plotz seemed to become aware of the room again. His eyes came back into focus, and he turned a sharp look to Yakko. "A lot of people on this lot spend a lot of time making sure you don't make mistakes, Yakko. They make sure you're prepared for a shoot, that you make it to every performance on time. But there are other types of mistakes that I take great care to make sure you avoid. Your siblings should come before your job, and that's that. Unlike them, your job won't be forever."

Yakko nodded numbly, if only because the shock of being reprimanded by Plotz and feeling it was deserved was too much for him. Then, when suddenly very sure the two ideas were linked, Yakko muttered, "I'm sorry about the song… "

"You mean the natural talent you were wasting? I can't stand to see anyone throw away a gift like that."

"How'd you know I wasn't doing my best?" Yakko asked. But his ears perked as a thought struck him. "You go to my performances, don't you? Do you seriously go to all of them?"

Plotz's brow furrowed to a point, making him look much more like himself. "How did you know that?"

Yakko shrugged and nodded at the file drawer with a smirk. Plotz scowled, which Yakko could only take as an affirmative.

"But why, though?" Yakko prodded. "I thought I drove you nuts. Why would you go out of your way to see more of me – "

Plotz's whole face seemed to contort as though he was struggling to keep something contained. Yakko frowned.

"You alright? You look like you could use some ex-lax…"

Plotz scowled at him before mumbling something incoherent.

Yakko turned an ear towards him. "What was that?"

More mumbling.

"Sorry, didn't catch that – "

"I APPRECIATE A GOOD SINGING VOICE, OKAY?" Plotz exploded, flushing, "Is that so hard to believe?"

Yakko blinked, but couldn't help a small, genuine smile creep onto his face. "You like the way I sing?"

Plotz slapped a hand to his forehead. "Use your brain, idiot! Why do you think the writers give you so many damn songs? Yes, you may be able to fool the others, but I've heard you enough to know when you're giving it the bare minimum, so you'd better be dead or on fire before I hear you limp your way through a bridge again, capice?"

"Aw, you say the sweetest things, T-Pizzle."

"Stop calling me T-Pizzle!"

"Duly noted," Yakko said. He hesitated a moment before mumbling, "When you said my 'job won't be forever…how close is forever, exactly?"

Yakko held his breath as Plotz squinted at him. His heart was beating its way into his throat.

"If I don't get anymore lip from you, not today," Plotz said at last.

Yakko practically deflated as he exhaled, going limp in his seat. Plotz rolled his eyes.

"Now quit wasting my time and get back on set, " Plotz continued, his normal gruff demeanor making its triumphant return, "I've already seen enough you for the next year and we haven't even started dress rehearsals yet."

Yakko jumped to his feet and had one hand on the doorknob before he stopped. "Oh, hey Thaddio? I just wanted to say – "

"If you say something sappy right now I will mallet you into next Tuesday!"

"You got it, T-Pizzle!" Yakko said quickly, and was out the door without another peep.

NOTE: I've got some ideas floating around for future one-shots (a double date, some sibling fluff, etc) if any of those sound good to you all…