fnaficsfordays

[fnaficsfordays]

hello, since this isnt fnaf related u don't have to post this publicly to ur blog but as you may have seen already i just binged ur fic when the fires burn and i am SCREAMING/pos dude u write SO WELL its insane i love it sm and oh my goodness its gonna live rent free in my brain forever and I'm probably gonna make art for it at some point bc my gosh that last chapter... the fact that i had watched this video right before too omg- with Alaska fresh in my mind it was the perfect setup and i could picture the whole scene perfectly in my brain- im gonna stop talking because i could LITERALLY go on forever but yeah <333 anyways its 1:30 am again bc of daylight savings and so ill take this second chance to actually go to bed before its detrimental to how i feel when i wake up lol

...Oh my gods.

Afdabhfjdsf I'm delighted that you love my work so much. Thank you for alerting me to your ask. I've loved CaliAustin ever since I discovered WttT and so it's just amazing that you binge read my fic. Every clip of 'em I cherish so very much. And I still look very much forward to that art, if you choose to make it :)

Don't worry about this being on my FNaF blog- it's been inactive for quite some time now, as has all of my tumblr in general. If you want to tag me or send anything to my main blog (@t-wolfxd) then feel free instead- or just continue commenting these types of things in Ao3! I'm more likely to be notified to comments on the fic itself, and respond immediately there. But regardless, these comments mean the world to me. Thank you so much.

[fnaficsfordays]

Send-Off

Sequel to Selfish.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2452

No warnings...

----------

Michael stared over the edge of the pillow, tracing the sheets with a thumb. His eyes lingered against the figure besides him, skin pale in the moonlight that snuck past the blinds, blonde locks nestled against the pillow. With a yawn, Michael pressed up to the warm body. A drowsy smile twitched on his lips as his hand found the other’s, the light grate of the golden bands on both of their fingers.

Scott gave an inaudible mumble, yet made no move to push him away. The bed was much softer than what they were used to, all white sheets and mattress, barely ruffled by their arrival a few hours ago. His heart fluttered at all the memories that went by so quickly- just a single day that had taken months of tedious planning to reach. But it was worth it, to seal the deal of their lives together with those rings.

Releasing a long exhale, Michael nestled up further to his partner, fingers squeezing into Scott’s palm. “I love you.” It was a tiny whisper, only heard in the silence of their room.

Another tired string of noise, albeit with actual words. “I know.”

He gave a soft snort at the response. Why else had Michael married him, though.

They had kept it as minimal as possible, only inviting the closest of already-limited relatives and friends. The ceremony had gone better than either of them had hoped for, surrounded by those sprawling willow trees, the cheerful hubbub of their guests, Jeremy grinning from ear to ear as he gave the warmest speech a best man ever could. And then a shared dance, spinning with eyes only for each other, dark green locked into shining blue.

They’d even had a moment of silence for him.

Michael pressed deeper into the mattress as the recountings faded back. The moments went by with his lover’s slowing breaths, keeping their hands together as he started to drift into slumber too. It was nothing but peace, after those years- after those days.

He could have a little peace, right? If not just for Scott… he did deserve this.

I deserve this.

“Yeah, you do.”

The voice was quiet with resignation, yet rang clear across his mind. Michael opened his eyes, lifting his head in confusion-

Before his breath caught at the figure next to the bed.

Pale irises gazed down neutrally at his form. A thorned stem twirled between shimmering fingers, attached to a soft white rose at the top. It was as translucent as the holder, even as it was set down on the nightstand, no trace or shadow left in its wake. And all Michael could do was stare.

The edge of Vincent’s lips twitched in a slight smile. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Michael wanted to die at the familiar amusement curling into his words, swallowing roughly as he took in more of his appearance. Vincent didn’t look a day past his prime, violet ponytail flowing in smooth tangles, adorning an old uniform even as a spirit. Michael tore his eyes away from his silent radiance, vision falling back over to the flower. “How?”

“It was an important day.” He chuckled, walking around the bed frame. “Wouldn’t miss it for the life of me.”

But you did. Michael’s mouth felt dry as he neared. You did the moment you died and left us all.

Scott suddenly shifted in his sleep, hand tracing up Michael’s arm as he pressed closer. It took all his willpower to not flinch, stomach churning as he dragged his gaze back over to the spirit still in the room. Vincent still seemed calm, yet his eyes held an odd look, fixed on the lingering touch between the newlyweds.

“You…” Michael drew in a shaky breath. “You know. You knew.”

A small nod.

“Always?”

Vincent released a small sigh, moving until he was right beside him. “Come on.”

“...What?”

His mauve hand lay outstretched in the air, flickering with its spiritual existence. Michael didn’t want to move his fingers to meet it. He didn’t want to leave the warmth of Scott, didn’t want to drag himself upright in the dead of night, didn’t want to reach over just to pass through cold space and feel his heart, already taut with dread, shatter again-

Only for the solid touch that his palm slid against to shoot his thoughts clear.

It was purely instinctual, the way he gripped onto Vincent’s hand right after. The world slowed as Michael was pulled up and away from the sheets, cool air hitting his limbs, shivering even within his clothes. The ghostly skin was calloused yet smooth, scars itching to be traced with his fingertips, the urge to memorize every line and crevice.

Michael flexed the fingers of his free hand, trying to clear his head. “Why?” He questioned, voice small.

“For a moment.” Vincent glanced around the room, before taking a step back towards the edge of the room. “Just follow me.”

The way Michael’s body responded to the light tug dissipated any confidence he’d had over moving on, heart pounding as Vincent guided them away. The area around them became a blur, vision impossibly frozen on their hands, still together, still firm, still-

…

Still with a ring on his own, gold burning a reminder of who he was leaving behind.

“You’re not.” Vincent’s voice rang out ahead, Michael’s gaze snapping up. “You’ll be back before you know it.”

God, he wasn’t supposed to ever have fallen this far.

Yet the guilt-ridden thoughts did pause, as his eyes focused on their surroundings. Tall stalks of grass bent underneath their steps, growing across gentle slopes. Pale mist curled around their ankles too, seeping throughout the ground, turning Vincent’s form even more translucent. The sky bathed them in soft silver, neither a moon or sun in sight- just stars, winking against the deep blue expanse.

“Where…” He trailed off, staring around the open space. “How did you-?”

“You always have questions when a little intuition would give you the answer.” Vincent joked, dipping his free hand to brush through the grass. “Hasn’t Scott rubbed off on you at all?”

“Did you make this?”

“Close enough.” He waved an arm around the area. “Welcome to my little afterlife. Who knows if you’ll end up here too in the end, but… for now it’s a dream.” A brief pause, smirk flitting across his lips. “Try to resist the urge to pinch yourself awake.”

His carefree words didn’t completely soothe Michael though, gulping as he glanced around again. He couldn’t see an end, perhaps lost to the mist that continued in the distance- or maybe it really did stretch on forever. Was Vincent all alone here? Did it ever look different? How was he able to leave?

“Relax a little.” Michael was pulled further into the illusory field by a mauve arm. The realization that he was actively reading his thoughts didn’t put him at ease, either. “You’re too cautious.”

“You’re too-” His words stuttered to a halt. Happy? “...Alive.”

“And you’re saying I shouldn’t feel energetic when two of my best friends get married?” The tease remained in his grin as he turned to face Michael, yet his eyes were clouded.

“You know it’s more than that.” He didn’t dare let their fingers intertwine, no matter how much his heart would have sung. “This isn’t real. It’ll never be.”

A small hum. “But it’s never stopped being your fantasy.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Michael choked out. “I can’t… I want Scott. I really do. You’ve got to know that.”

“And I saw it. I know the ceremony was genuine.” Vincent’s silvery gaze faltered for a moment, almost apologetic as he paused. “But Mike… he’s the only one that returns it.”

The crack in Michael’s chest seemed to widen. “That’s what this is. You’re just here to say it wouldn’t have ever happened anyways.”

His expression softened. “I still wanted to give you something to remember.”

“Why?” Michael whispered. “Do you think this hurts any less?”

“You can tell me that it doesn’t, but waiting in the dark wouldn’t make it better.” Vincent’s free hand came to a rest against his waist, igniting nerves from where it brushed Michael’s skin. “You’ve buried yourself down even deeper than I would have.”

A laugh was forced from his lungs, fingers hesitantly curling around his hand as they started to step back and forth amongst the ghostly stalks of grass. “If you’ve been watching at all in the past few years, you know I’m going to wake up a sobbing mess all over again.”

“Someone will still be there to pick up the pieces.” Vincent spun him around, grip remaining light yet firm. “He’s able to be at your side in the morning. Every morning. I can’t for Jeremy anymore.”

By miracle, he managed to not crumble further at the longing in his voice. “I really would have been fine if things just… stayed normal.”

“So I’ve heard.” Vincent tugged Michael forward, nearly pressing their chests together. “If so, why wouldn’t you be able to now?”

“Jeremy-”

“Jeremy has put in plenty of time to recover. I know he still goes to the grave here and there in his moments, and he’s wished that I was there multiple times during your wedding too. But that doesn’t stop him from being happy and moving forward.” Vincent kept his gaze on Michael, uncharacteristically serious. “Or Scott. He was the only one keeping both of you sane after I died, but he was able to do it with you. You’re still meaningful to each other, no matter what.”

“I still haven’t told him.”

He sighed. “No, you haven’t.”

“Let me guess, you’re going to lecture me on that too?” Michael gave him a half-hearted glare. “I just… What's the worth? Even if he wouldn’t leave. You can’t tell me that it wouldn’t make him question everything about our relationship. I can’t… I can’t do that to him.”

“I never came here to tell you to do anything.” Vincent deterred, before his tone relaxed again. “You’re not taking the same road to recovery as either of them. You never would, like this. I can’t force you to tell them anymore than I could force myself to love you in the same way.”

Before Michael could respond, an arm wrapped around his back, words a mere breath against his ear.

“But I still just want to see you happy."

Michael leaned away for a moment, hands trembling as they rested on his shoulders. The embrace all but ached, from how much it screamed feelings that weren’t alive. “Why can’t you just hate me?” He whispered.

 “None of us ever would, no matter how much you think of it.” A glimmer of humor reawakened in the ghost’s gaze. “And I think it’d be pretty rude to ruin your wedding night even more than I already have.”

“...Bummer.”

Vincent chuckled, sending tingles down his spine in their close proximity. Against better judgement, Michael leaned against his shoulder, eyes shutting as he breathed in his scent. He sank into his arms, heart full in all the ways that murmured right. That murmured peace, murmured warmth, murmured love-

Yet the touch of his mauve fingers, curling lightly around his shoulder, dissolved the feeling as soon as it came.

Michael pulled away, guilt tugging his hands back. “Sorry.”

“You wore out that word in the first month after I died.” Vincent shook his head gently. His hue was becoming more translucent the longer Michael looked. “Save a few for when you wake up. It’s getting close.”

I could never use it enough. He kept his eyes strained on his fading outline, not daring to blink. “I love you.”

A twinge of a smile, sweetness all but crushing Michael’s chest. “I know.”

Then the darkness overtook his vision once more.

It was quick to vanish though, by the feeling of his eyes fluttering open to light flitting in from the windows- morning sun, instead of the moonlight he last remembered. The mattress was still soft against his back, feeling himself sink deeper as reality came rushing back.

An attempt to draw in a breath directed his attention to the lump in his throat, heart constricting as he gave a sob. It was louder than Michael realized, drawing a reaction from the figure still against his chest, rolling over in his arms.

“Mike?” A tan thumb traced across his cheek, raising his vision to meet a pair of blue irises. Cool moisture dragged across his skin- he hadn’t even been aware of the tears trailing down his face, barely satiated by a steady hand. His husband gave a light frown, concern shining through as Michael pressed his face into his shoulder. Scott’s palms were soft, tracing over his back as he took in long, heaving breaths.

“Bad- Bad dream.” He gasped out, still shaking in his lover’s hold. “It- I didn’t realize you were up, I’m-”

“It’s fine.” Scott assured, blonde hair brushing past his temple. “You’re safe. I wouldn't have been able to sleep past eight anyways."

Michael gave a hysterical chuckle, pressing into him further. He was a mess. He was such a collapsing mess and yet there was always someone there willing to pick him up. Vincent had been right about that, if nothing else.

“What was it about?” Scott murmured. “Or… you don’t have to tell me right now-”

“No, it’s just-” Michael swallowed. “You… You weren’t there.”

Not a lie, barely. Yet it would have felt like it no matter what he said.

“It’s alright.” His lover soothed. “I’m here now. I don’t plan on leaving for a long time.”

But would you, if you knew?

They stayed like that for a few more moments, gentle hands pressing into Michael’s skin, until his heartbeat slowed back down. Still, each deep breath seemed to burn his throat, every passing second a vice as he remained quiet.

“Are you ready to get up?” Fingers carded through his hair, Scott pulling back to look at him inquisitively.

“I…” Michael took a deep breath. “Can we just stay in bed? For the morning?”

“Are you sure?”

“...Yeah. We didn’t have anything scheduled today, anyways.”

A confirming hum, his husband moving closer to press a brief kiss against his forehead. Michael melted into the touch, watching his sky-colored gaze drift shut. He was about to nestle down too, before a glimmer crossed through the corner of his vision.

His eyes flickered over. For a moment, the outline of a white rose could be seen on the nightstand, against the golden beams dotting the wood.

Michael blinked, and it was gone.

[fnaficsfordays]

Hmm...

[fnaficsfordays]

Folded (pt. 2)

AO3 Link

Word Count: 1064

No warnings!

----------

You can’t remember how to fold a pinwheel.

It’s almost laughable. One of the first pieces you ever learned to do, and suddenly you’re blanking on the next step after creasing the paper on both diagonals. The white side practically glares at you from the table, glowing amber in the lamplight. You can only stare back, rubbing your temples.

Out of all the figures you’ve made in the past couple of months, it would be expected for there to be at least one other pinwheel you could reference. But a scan across the shelf besides your desk shows otherwise. It’d be easy to search it up on your phone and finish, but… origami is supposed to be simple and quick. Your way of distraction, away from the chaos already in your classes and work.

Perhaps it’s about time to just head in for sleep? It’s almost 11 already, and though you sure don’t try too hard, getting a somewhat adequate rest would do some good. You barely get a night where you don't have to study at least an hour longer. The gifts of peace that you can find between community college and that grocery store job are practically all that keep you going. It’ll still be another three years until you’ve gotten a degree, gotten further prospects.

So for now, you’ll sink into a mattress, staring up at the ceiling of the tiny apartment you managed to secure.

It seems strange that you used to hold a job that started at midnight. You could wonder where the energy went, but of course that was unreasonable. You only managed that night shift by sleeping throughout the rest of the day. And by origami.

Lots of origami.

Does he still keep them around?

You never took the remaining paper with you from that desk drawer. The idea still feels wrong- the only time sheets were taken out were for new pieces, never anything else. It’s the same here, with the stack on the corner of your writing desk.

All that’s different is the amount of structures littering the room.

That’s a good thing, is it not? Origami is one of the more healthy coping mechanisms out there, yet the less you need to cope from, the better. No situation could ever get more stressful than fighting for your life five nights a week.

…

You should have asked him to come with you.

It’s been a year since. Is he even still alive? You can only hope, and yet it doesn’t feel like such. Not when you know firsthand how dangerous it is. Even if he was there long before you came around, so long you could believe those shifts are his coping mechanism- he’s not with you.

How that matters only now and not when you used to be in that office, you still haven’t figured out.

Or maybe it mattered then, too. You can’t be sure. All you know is that you never minded his staring, thinking it to be in innocent fascination. Guilt lingers when you wonder how much of his attention was truly on you, rather than the paper.

You brushed it off so much in the past. But would it have been worth it, to glance up for just a moment, and meet his silvery gaze?

Would he be worth it?

Like it’s been proven so many times in the past, no answer comes from the silence.

You comb back your dark hair, rolling over onto your side. It’s not the first time that ideas of what could have been are unfurling in your mind. However, it is the first time you can’t remember how to fold a piece of origami.

…

Reaching a haphazard arm over to your nightstand, you turn on the lamp. The yellow is all but blinding in your eyes, but it’s worth it to be able to grab your phone, the little screen lighting up as well once your vision is somewhat accustomed. It’s not… enough, seeing the miniscule list of contacts inside. He was never added there.

Yet you can check your calendar, noting how long it’ll be until the holiday break hits.

And so then it does.

And so then you find yourself on a drive. Towards… well, not home. You don’t really feel like there is one, at the moment. Nor do you have a full plan for whatever the outcome will be, once you finally reach that building. There’s too many choices. Too many possibilities.

But if you have the chance, you’d like to talk about it.

That was something you barely ever did, either of you. Everything you thought you needed was only shown through the rustle of paper and uncaught glimpses, all until you had it by yourself. Just how much was there to unpack with actual words?

You arrive early in the morning to find out, breath steaming in the cold. The sun isn’t up to melt the snow dusting the parking lot, but there’s a pre-glow of purple and pink in the sky, finding its way into your chest. A glance at your phone shows there’s only seven minutes left.

They’ll be easy to wait out when you have a structure to fold in the car, one you’ve never done before. Six strips of paper, propped up in your hands as you wind them around each other into a little box, following the tutorial on your screen. It’s much more difficult to manage without a surface flat enough, pressing down on each crease as tight as possible.

When it’s 6 AM at last, you won’t look up at the first person to walk through. You’ll wait a few more minutes, cradling the origami in your trembling palms.

Then he’ll be there, shoes crunching in the snow before meeting your gaze. For once, he’ll break the silence too.

You’ll return it, as you see the piece cupped in his own hand. Not his, he’ll inform. Still yours. The dust and crinkled edge will be enough testament, and you’ll hold your rose out to him as your own offering.

A sign of longing? Guilt? Desperation? Acceptance?

Each edge could hold it all. But you won’t need to say anything more when he pulls you into his arms, skin warm to the touch and embrace tight with the same emotions.

And you will unfold everything. But you’ll do it together.

[fnaficsfordays]

Folded (pt. 1)

AO3 Link

Word Count: 1197

No warnings!

----------

You never learned how to do it.

It looks so effortless, coming from his end. Maybe that’s the point; to make it easy for oneself. There’s no particular delicacy to the folds he makes, running a fingernail over each new edge, some left as are, others undone to give way to a new bend. Various finished pieces lie on the desk- a crane, a box, a rabbit. All simple. All soon to be swept aside when midnight hits.

The first night he brought in paper, you laughed and asked what the point was. He shrugged you off, not bothering to answer until he was already in the midst of a structure. To calm the nerves, you can recall. Now, it’s easy to see that he was right. Yet the mental image of him still working away on the cheap desk, not sparing a single glance for the terrors in the halls, makes you stifle a chuckle.

He’s finishing up a butterfly, right now. The thin sheet is designed with spiralling vines, and in the yellow light, they seem to truly wrap around each edge and each other, as if locking the shape in place. Immovable. Impenetrable.

He notes that you’re staring. You reply that it’s the first time he’s done that figure.

Butterflies of past nights, scattered on the ground, will be the only ones to call your bluff.

Though, he still swats at your cap, green eyes flashing with amusement. You let him. It’ll get knocked off anyways during the next six hours. And it feels nicer when it’s him, fingers barely brushing by your violet locks.

The butterfly is set aside for a new paper. The clock is nearing, nearing the time when he’ll have to close up the drawer with all his leftover sheets, hefting a sigh as a monitor replaces the origami in his hands. You’ll offer to take it from him like always. He won’t accept, but the fond look in his irises will be enough to leave it at that.

Or perhaps you’re only searching. But if he can form beauty and comfort from a flat canvas, can’t you as well?

Then, the clock truly does chime the twelfth hour. Events don’t quite happen the way they played out in your head, though it’s close. You’re careful enough to avoid stepping on any of the pieces on the tiled floor, walking back and forth between the doors as the shift goes on. He stays at the desk, with his folded army and an eye on the cameras.

Despite the dangers around, it’s even easier to stare when you know he won’t be looking back. Even without making a new creation, he’s as focused as ever, examining the monitor screen with a careful gaze. The little warnings he gives from time to time don’t change this.

You wonder when you started to ignore the little warnings in your own head, too.

One set of urgencies for another, perhaps. It definitely feels more rewarding to follow his. Maybe because he’s never confronted you about it, and you can’t tell if you truly want him to. It’s something too subtle, too silent to raise even a single voice for. You certainly haven’t raised yours.

He notes the time, jolting you away from your clouded thoughts. 5 AM. Time flies like a butterfly around here- which is to say, for only a few moments before dropping down to tile or wood, never to be touched again. Only gazed at from afar.

...Almost.

By the time the clock strikes the golden 6, he’s stretching in relief, expression softening. For a moment your eyes meet, and the peace stutters- but it’s just a quick grin thrown your way, and you’re soon to return it.

The doors open, your shared haven laid bare to the rest of the pizzeria. At least, you hope it’s shared. But it has to mean something to him too, the occasional glimpses of calm kept afloat by his paper structures. The way he keeps you afloat too.

He bids farewell, leaving you to close up the office, slipping the monitor back into a drawer and examining the space for any junk. The origami has long since been ignored as such, each speck of color brightening up the once-desolate room.

You scan his most recent pieces on the desk. The vine-patterned butterfly remains near the edge. After a moment of pondering, it’s scooped up into your mauve hand and taken home.

Still, you never learned how to do it.

You’ve had chances. Plenty of them, as the weeks went by. Perhaps when you bought a new set of paper for his diminishing stock, both admittance and gratitude shown in silence. Or the night so calm that he was able to continue his work well into the actual shift. You could always have asked.

But you were comfortable.

And truly, he was too.

When he left for good, it wasn’t sudden. Not in the typical fashion of death or disappearance. He laid it all out for you at the start, his hesitant plan to leave for other opportunities. You encouraged him the best a friend ever could, but for all you loved to look into his eyes, you never saw why.

He was hesitant for you.

It was in the furrowed brow that stayed long after he finished explaining. In the unusual slowness of his fingers against a new sheet of paper, only making a single structure that night. Words that, in the end, neither of you managed to initiate. Would you go with me?

The weekend after, he was gone.

You didn’t react when you had your first shift alone after a full year of working together. Nor did you talk about him with the next half a dozen guards that would come and go one way or another. But you would sharply insist on keeping his leftover origami around the office, wherever they were found. There would be another one taken home every day, despite their dwindling numbers. They clutter your apartment in a way you can’t bring yourself to halt. Not even on the days their bright colors and patterns become a taunt instead of a comfort.

Right now, it’s an unsteady middle ground between those extremes, cradling the edges of the newest addition in your palm- a lily, colored a yellow and white gradient. There’s a small wrinkle on the edge of one petal, smoothened back out yet maintaining a line on the old bend. It catches the early morning sun seeping through a window, only illuminating more of the paper as you stand by your dining table.

Does he miss these?

Does he miss you?

He said he wanted to apply for a college. It’s hard to imagine him in such a large place, a single person within a crowd of dozens at any given moment. Studying for a degree. Having the most worrying aspect of his life be an essay or test. You would be lying if you claimed it wasn’t a life you desired.

Yet you desire him more, and for that you stay with the folded structures he left behind, each crease reflecting one in your heart.

[fnaficsfordays]

Staring

AO3 Link

Word Count: 1507

No warnings!

----------

Vincent never had an easy time keeping track of himself after joining the pizzeria. Not his movements, his words, his expression- nothing.

It wasn't like he didn't pay attention at all. No, he paid too much- and an unbalanced amount, at that. Silvery irises would dart around everything that he could see, ears strained for the lightest skitter in the foreboding halls. Even his sense of smell- well, it never got dull from the blood and rot constantly wafting around the terrible place.

Yet the one thing he never sensed was himself.

Not a problem. It shouldn't have been, at least- as long as he could still see and hear something, it meant he was still alive. Hadn't failed his job yet. Perfect.

But when the ever-so-brilliant mind of William Afton had decided that one poor sap wasn't enough and that he needed a working partner?

It so often led to situations like these.

"Left door. Bonnie’s moved again."

"Got it."

Vincent's gaze wandered as Michael rushed over to the entrance, fingers snapping down on the switch. The metal cover slid down as always, but it wasn't enough to make Vincent's eyes move away just yet.

Michael's fingers, slender and light, drummed against the wall beside the switch, curved nails barely catching the dull light of the office. One after the other, thumb to pinkie, a digited dance against the concrete slabs. The light, audible tap that each gave off didn't help matters as his ears became entranced too, listening to the soft pads thump so rhythmically. A miniscule symphony, amidst the horrors of the night shift.

However, the beat was soon to pause, as Michael glanced over, meeting his eyes. The rhythm of the fingers stumbled, and Vincent was almost jolted out of the small trance. Almost.

His fingertips were still moving, now pushing away from the wall, swaying back and forth by his sides as he walked closer, alternating between being in shadow and in view. If Vincent kept looking for long enough, he swore that the tiny lines of his fingerprints would become visible-

"Cameras." The single, reminding word brought him back, blinking as he realized how close Michael was now.

"Right. Right." Vincent blew out a breath, glancing back down. None of the animatronics had moved much further, to their luck. Or maybe they'd been watching the whole time, spirits laughing at his misfortune. "Sorry."

"...No need." Michael sat down next to him. "Let's just keep going."

Was it normal? Was he normal? Okay, maybe the latter question was redundant. But the first…

...He didn’t know the answer to. Vincent wasn’t a stranger to getting fixated on certain things, unable to tear his vision or ears away in almost-stillness and silence. It happened all the time, and this little office only inhibited that tendency. Part of him thought that adding another person on the job with him would make it easier to focus on staying alive, but it clearly hadn’t been the case with Michael.

“Shit.” His vision snapped up at the swear, Michael darting over to the other door, a rumbling laugh ringing out from the hall. “Stupid bear, just had to get moving at the last second-”

“You’re safe to open back up the left.” He stared down hard at the monitor screen, catching the fuzzy outline of Bonnie further away. Freddy was still too close for comfort, dark brown silhouette traced clearly despite the glitches. Vincent had long since memorized each hazardous piece of the animatronic’s body, the exact glow of the white pinpricks that replaced eyes. Much too bright. Much too boring when none of them actually moved visibly until he looked away.

Unlike his partner, thumping a hand back against the left switch and letting the door open again.

“How’s Foxy?” Michael questioned, glancing back at him from the doorway. The checkered stripe running around the office was cast into a darker shade behind him, grey squares broadening as he leaned fully back against the wall. His arms were crossed against his torso, the rise and fall of his chest making his elbows shift ever so slightly. How deep were his breaths? Would Vincent be able to hear them if he was close enough?

“You might have to close that door for him soon.” He forced himself to say, flipping rapidly through the cameras before his coworker’s patience ran out. “But we’ll still have enough power for this last stretch.”

A curt nod. “Just tell me when.”

Will do… The words never left his lips though, already refocusing on his partner, eyes narrowing towards the hall. Their forest green hue was almost black from a distance, sharpened in a concentration Vincent knew he rarely possessed himself. He never got close enough to examine the small, shaded lines of his irises, each one slightly different, the way they formed like radii around his pupil. In this office, they blended together too much in the darkness. But what would it take to see each speck and shine of his gaze, bright and… and…

A spasm of glitches on the screen redirected his attention, blinking at the now-open curtains of pirate’s cove. “Close the door.”

Michael smacked a palm against the switch, shoulders slumping in relief as it slid back down. Only a few moments later, the screeching thump of the fox animatronic could be heard against the metal, both of them wincing at the sound. Vincent could see the way his fingers dug slightly against the wall as he flinched, gripping onto the plaster. His hand stayed tense even as he opened back up the door, thumb tracing the outline of the rectangular buttons.

“We don’t have much longer left.” Vincent kept his sight on the fingers that lifted at his words, nails remaining poised against the switch. “Only twenty minutes.”

“Wonderful.” Michael grumbled, moving back towards the right without further complaint. A strand of brown hair lay fallen across his temple, out of place yet not fixed. It would have gone unnoticed even by Vincent, if it wasn’t for the thin shadow that it cast on his skin. His hair looked soft. Then again, it always did.

“He’s not getting ready to go again, at least.” Vincent glanced back down at the monitor, Foxy’s snout barely poking through the star-patterned curtains. “Freddy might, though.”

“He’s being so irritating tonight.” The sigh was a little weary, fading deeper by the end. Did his voice get tired when he did that? How much lower could it go? Could it be felt through his chest, like a heartbeat?

Ding!

The buzzing ring of the clock turned both of their heads away, up towards the dull, flickering red digits. Six A.M., and the shift was over.

“How much power did we have left?” His coworker’s irises flickered with curiosity.

“Says six percent, Foxy’s charge took out a bit at the end.” He admitted. “We were fine, though.”

“Not bad compared to other nights.” Michael scooped up the monitor out of his hands, raising an eyebrow at the little flinch in return. “What?”

“I thought I was staying to clean up.”

“You always stay.” He gave Vincent a confused glance, mouth twitching into a wry smile. “What, are you secretly helping William with an animatronic or something during that time?”

“No.” He stared at the small device still in Michael’s hands, fingertips grasped around the black edges. They’d barely brushed by his own palms for a moment, heated touch passing quickly. Too quickly for him to memorize the sensation. “I’m just fine with staying.”

His partner rolled his eyes, placing the screen back on the desk, shaking his head. The ends of his dark locks swayed with it. “You’re weird.”

“You’re pretty.” Vincent couldn’t stop the sentence from leaving his mouth, an unintentional response. It really had been accidental now- even if that’s what he always told himself all the other times too. At the small start that his coworker gave, he only shrugged, the slightest defensive. “I was trying to think of a single word. I think it fits.”

“I… Right.” An odd look crossed over Michael’s face, taking in a quick breath. “Well. Um. Just… see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He blinked at his coworker, vision flitting towards the growing darkness on his cheeks. It flowed out pink across his beige skin, turning softer by the second- until he finally turned away, carding a hand through his dark brown strands as he walked down the hall. Vincent caught every single footstep echoing through, a quiet, clipped thud against the linoleum floor. He let his eyes drift shut for a moment, letting them slowly fade away, all but forgetting about cleaning up the rest of the office.

A small exhale, warmth prickling in his skin. That was the word though, it was very much the word as he flitted through earlier memories. He could come up with a lot to describe the night guard, but something about this one, that’d come by on a whim, just… seemed to settle.

Pretty.

Michael was pretty.

[fnaficsfordays]

Juliet’s Busy

AO3 Link

Sequel to All Tramp and No Lady

Word Count: 4564

No warnings!

----------

“Look at them!” The unusually high voice made Michael glance over with a furrowed brow. Jeremy was standing still beside the road, arms outstretched placatingly. “Just- look!”

A snort came from his other side, Scott wearing a similarly unfazed expression. “They’re literally rabbits, Jeremy. We have plenty back in our gardens.”

“Rabbits are rabbits no matter where they are. Look at the little cheeks! And ears!” None of them stopped him as he knelt down in front of the miniature paddock, some of the creatures inside perking up. They all appeared the same, soft white all over, minus the ring of black fur around their eyes. At the reassuring nod of the owner, Jeremy reached out towards the nearest one, beaming as it sniffed his fingers. It stayed relaxed as he stroked its back, grazing at the enclosed grass.

“They’re dwarf rabbits, a proud litter of mine.” Chuckled the owner, standing beside them. “Seven dwarf hotots. Five months old.”

“Little buns…” He scooped up one, grin widening as it didn’t shift against his chest. “They’re so calm!”

“These ones grew up with visitors all the time, I’d say they’re used to the attention. And the feeding that comes with it.”

Jeremy perked up even more. “Can I-?”

“Okay, no. We’ve gotta go now.” Michael gripped his shoulder. “If we let you feed them, we’ll never get to the festival.”

“This is part of the festival!”

“We’re still five minutes away from the entrance, man. We can come back to the fluff nuggets later.”

A quiet laugh came from behind them, his mother shaking her head. “They are quite sweet. You must attract a lot of attention with them.”

The owner bowed. “Pleasure to attend this year, Miss Schmidt. Hope you and your attendants have a good time.”

Five minutes later, and at last they pulled Jeremy away from the rabbits, back to walking further into the town. Every year the same festival was held in October, on whichever day was deemed to have the best weather here. It was the closest to the center of the elite provinces, an agreement made decades ago to let this settlement stay as a free and neutral ground.

None of them looked nearly as elite today, either. His mother’s hair was in a neat bun near the top of her head, woven turquoise shawl resting over a plain blue summer dress. Jeremy wore a rolled-up flannel and jeans, and even Scott set aside formality for cargo shorts with his usual long coat and tied-up t-shirt. Michael himself only had a plain button-up and slacks, along with an embroidered denim jacket that bore the family crest.

And his knife, strapped inside of said jacket for emergencies. But enough said there.

“William just arrived at the west gate.” His mother said, slipping her phone back into her dress pocket. “Shall we meet them?”

“Hell yeah.” Michael pumped his fist. “Haven’t seen them in ages.”

“Do you believe he’s taken along his smaller ones this time?” Scott tilted his head. “I don’t think Elizabeth could be any younger than fourteen by now, at least.”

“He’s still only bringing along Mike today.” Sighed the queen. “They’re targeted quite often though, so I could understand. Wouldn’t want to risk the youngest, and Elizabeth is quite the curious one from what I’ve seen.”

“I wonder how his latest project turned out.” Jeremy clasped his hands together. “It sounded like it had a year or so until completion, though.”

“Or five. He said it was, what, going to full-on dance?” Michael frowned in thought. “It’s gotta still be in the making. Unless he’s really been pushing himself-”

“Hey!”

They all glanced up at the voice, spotting two figures side by side, one waving a hand. Grin forming on his face, Michael picked up his pace, jogging over. As he got closer, he could see bandages wrapped around the younger one’s wrists and hands, splotchy tan face shaded by the overgrown mop of hair.

“Holy shit, what tried to kill you this time?” He examined his frame, spotting other wrappings underneath the edge of his rumpled t-shirt. “Surely those aren’t all from that attempt in August.”

“Ha, fuck no.” The fellow 19-year-old smirked, grey irises bright as ever. “There was another two weeks ago, but one of the robots stopped them. The rest are scrapes from work.”

The man behind him groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Michael-”

“Yes?” In unison, both of them turned to the elite, leading to an immediate shared high-five at his hard sigh.

“Oh my god it worked!” Mike cackled, slapping him across the shoulder. “It fucking worked. We got him to-”

“I haven’t been able to pull that joke since last time, oh man.” He gladly elbowed the other prince back. “That was beautiful.”

“You did walk right into it, William.” The queen chuckled behind them, wearing a light smile. “Let them have it.”

“We arrived right out of a high-security, tedious journey. It slipped my mind that they always do this.” Mike’s father snorted. He was dressed in dark slacks and a semi-casual dress shirt, family emblem pinned to grey suspenders. “Pleasant as always to see you and your son in good health, Amet.”

“And I, you.” She reached out to shake his hand. “I hope Elizabeth and Christopher are well at home?”

“Very, I took measures to be certain that they’ll be safe. No incidents will happen while we’re gone.”

“How’s that animatronic you mentioned last time?” Jeremy prompted, him and Scott having walked over to the two Michaels while their parents conversed. “You’re onto the actual model at least, right?”

“Hey there, guys. And- oh, that’s giving me so much grief.” Mike huffed. “The code of basic movement and sensors was mostly applied already, and I’ve figured out the dancing too by now. But I’m constantly redesigning the joints to make sure that they actually work, so the only piece that’s fully built is the head. Right now, I’m putting together the feet.”

“Do you have a picture?”

“Got a couple, right here.” He pulled out his phone. “It’s not the largest one, but it’s gonna have miniature buddies dancing with it later on- fuck, that’s going to take a while too.”

“With the same functionality?” Scott questioned.

“We’re going to try, at least.”

“You four already know what you’re doing today, don’t you?” They whirled around, Michael’s mother giving them a nod. “Make sure to stick together, especially with Prince Afton. Wouldn’t want to lose him in this crowd.”

“We’ll be fine, mother.” Michael gave a thumbs up as she and Mike’s father walked away. “Fuck, I wish she said our name too.”

“She definitely avoided it on purpose to avoid that joke again.” Scott rolled his eyes. “So, where are we going?”

“Can we find some place with food or something?” Mike groaned. “I skipped breakfast. Didn’t wake up on time.”

“Because you fell asleep in that studio of yours again? Really, the more you make yourself vulnerable like that, the easier you’ll be to kill-”

“Oh shut up, bookworm.”

The four of them walked through the streets, occasionally stopping at an attraction here and there. Quite a few passerby were around, mingling throughout the town. They all filled the air with a soft chatter, one Michael had heard plenty of times before- be it at dinner parties, their echoing ballroom, or the training arena. But festivals like this one offered actual life, with all the families and classes coming together for a full day of fun.

And he was definitely having fun, despite the lack of an excuse to bring out his weapon. Not that he wanted anyone to get hurt- the festival was supposed to bring peace, after all. However…

“-could fucking see it. They were hired to murder me for pay, but still. Even when the animatronics got them. They really wanted my fucking head.”

“Jeez… how close did they get?”

“They were already getting chased, so I think they tried to make it a drive by? Got a cut to my ribs, but it wasn’t too far in at least.”

“You could just hire Michael as your bodyguard. He will let absolutely nothing stop him from finding an enemy, no matter how long it takes.”

“Wh- okay, that’s just rude.” He broke into the conversation, glaring at Scott. “I have literally never been able to find them and it’s putting such a stain on my career.”

“Yeah, one guy!” Giggled Jeremy. “An unidentified person sneaks into our grounds and cuts your arm once, so then you leave every single event at our kingdom early just to scout the grounds for them. Very logical.”

“For your information, it was not just once.” Michael crossed his arms. “I know they’re out there somewhere, because it keeps happening. And each time, the damage is the same. Which is to say, absolutely nothing.”

“Pfft- for real?” Mike grinned. “Dude, I heard about the first incident, but that’s just dedication.”

“It’s impressive at this point, really.” Scott smirked. “The first time was your arm, which was only unnerving for five minutes. Then we hosted a dinner at the end of August, in which he got a scrape to his neck that was barely bleeding. And when he was coming home from a meeting with another family, they cut his shirt.”

Michael rolled his eyes at the laughter from his friends, biting back a smile. If only they knew.

“Holy fuck, maybe you need to step your game up.” Mike snickered, wiping fake tears from his face. “If you ever do succeed, you might as well let them take your place.”

“Fuck off or I’ll leave you to starve.” He shoved the prince with his shoulder. “Seriously, where do you want to stop for a bite?”

“Hmm…” His gaze suddenly darted over to the left side of the road, and he snapped his fingers, pointing to a red and white sign. “Screw it, let’s head there. I’m craving pizza.”

They crossed over to the little building, taking a table inside once their orders were made. Michael opted to slip off his jacket in the warmth inside, leaning back in his chair. The business was small- clearly it was for the town itself and not just the festival. Behind the countertop was a door to a kitchen, swinging open to domed ovens at each new order.

“Do they have some sort of stereo in there?” He was jolted away from his thoughts at Jeremy’s voice, his friend staring at a curtained doorway to their side. “That’s some pretty loud music.”

Mike, sitting the closest, pulled back the sheets. His eyes widened. “Oh shit, they’ve got a whole karaoke thing over there.”

“Ooh, really?”

“Yeah- can’t tell if you gotta pay or not, but the lights are down and there’s a stage with two people on right now. It looks like there’s couches and seats around to just watch.”

“I’d rather just watch.” Michael interjected quickly.

He got a snort in response. “As much as I’d love to make you go up there, fine. I’d sit out too anyways.”

“Still sounds fun.” Jeremy pointed out. “How long did they say the pizza would take?”

“It’ll be a while, we only ordered five minutes ago and I believe they said it could take up to half an hour.” Scott pointed out. “I believe we would be able to eat inside that room too, given that it’s directly connected to the pizzeria.”

“Then let’s just go and listen! Whoever’s up sounds good.” Jeremy pulled all of them to their feet. “We can come back in here to grab the pizza after a while.”

The lights inside the karaoke room were dimmed down to match the mood, the four of them piling into a couch near the back door. The leather cushions sank underneath their weight, watching the small performance on stage. It was just a cheesy love song, but the pair sang it well without any cliche gestures.

“Out of curiosity, do you ever see anyone that isn’t part of the palace or elite?” Scott asked after the song ended, glancing at Mike.

“Barring assassination attempts by people that hate my dad, no.” He scoffed. “He’s the one that insists on keeping us inside, but I don’t care much anyways. I get to work on robots that make sure we don’t end up prematurely dead.”

“You guys have, what, a dozen at this point? I feel like you could take a break if you wanted to.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun.” Mike shrugged. “Like, dad’s the one that takes care of actual business with our towns. I pay a little attention as the prince, but only when it’s really important. Pretty sure Liz and Chris will end up being more involved in that stuff anyways. Can’t imagine having all the responsibilities as an only child.”

“It’s actually quite nice with just mother, I don’t need so much security around-”

“That’s because you are the security, Michael.”

“Wh- well, that’s the point.” He rolled his eyes at the stifled chuckles from his friends. “I’m still involved in the decision-making and keeping the people happy, but being able to defend myself means more freedom. And she knows it.”

“Wait, you-” Scott’s voice lowered to a whisper, gaze flitting around the crowd before leaning in. “...Did you actually bring your knife?”

“It’s completely out of sight in my jacket, alright? Calm down.” He hissed back, nudging the lump of cloth beside him. “I know mother said I didn’t need to, but… just in case. Never hurts to be prepared.”

“Just don’t lose it to another hunter after my head and we’ll be fine.” Mike nudged his shoulder with a smirk. “Who wants to go check on the pizza?”

“I’ll take a look, I can carry it on my own.” Scott stood up, brushing off his shorts and heading through the curtains. The remaining three lapsed into silence as the next singer started. Michael pulled the jacket closer, sighing in relief at the metal blade he could feel within-

Wait.

When did I…

He stiffened, sparing a glimpse between Mike and Jeremy. None of them noticed, still listening to the music- but Michael’s heart began to pound, looking back down at the blue denim. He didn’t remember picking it up from their first table. They’d rushed over to the karaoke room so quickly, he was almost certain he’d left it back in the other area without a second thought- maybe the action was so small that it’d slipped his mind. Of course it was good to have his jacket, no matter the case. Yet…

Michael rummaged through the inner pockets, feeling his phone right along with the knife. Then something crinkled underneath his touch, fingers closing around a small slip of paper. Biting his lip, he slid it out, squinting at the handwritten words.

Thank me outside. ;)

“They were in the middle of taking the pizza out of the oven, so I waited until it was completely done.” Scott’s voice broke him out of his shock, quickly folding the message back up. He raised his eyes just in time for the scribe to set down a box on the table in front of them, opening up the lid. “The left side has mushrooms, the right has sausage.”

“Fuck yeah, watch me down half of it-”

Michael ignored Mike’s eager words, still caught in inner turmoil as he stared at his jacket. Why did- no. Why was obvious, as was who. No one else would have the audacity nor ability to retrieve his jacket and slip a note inside, all without Michael noticing.

The better question was how. How had he gotten to the festival? How long had he been around? How did he find Michael so quickly- it wasn’t even noon yet!

“Earth to Michael?” An elbow to his side made him flinch, glaring at who it’d been. Mike met his expression evenly. “Are you going to eat yet or what?”

“Fuck off.” He snorted. “Give me a moment, I’m… going to go find a restroom around here, I don’t think there’s one too close.”

“I didn’t see one inside the pizzeria when I was getting the pizza.” Scott admitted. “Well, we’ll save a slice or two when you get back?”

“Yeah, sure.” Michael was already standing up, vision flicking around the karaoke room. “Just don’t let Mike steal it.”

“I might if you don’t get back soon enough!”

He ignored the call as he slipped out the curtains, pulse quickening as he scanned the area. There was nothing, yet. The sun was higher than before when he stepped out into the busy street, heating up the back of his neck as he kept a close eye out. Just where was he? The note couldn’t have been long ago.

Michael glanced back to the side. There was a gap between the pizzeria and the building to the right, dimmed by the sloping edge of the roof. Drawing a sharp breath, he walked towards it, vision narrowing as the shade washed over him. “You’d better be around here.”

No response. Spare sheets of metal and wooden planks lay around the alley, discarded amongst the cobblestone ground. Separate from the hubbub of the festival, the scene was almost taunting him with how fitting it was, walking between the piles of scrap-

“You should wear casual more often.” The whisper ghosted his neck, mauve fingers tracing over his arm. Michael spun around to face him, meeting the sly smile. “Took you long enough to realize.”

“It’s barely been two hours since we arrived at the festival.” He sighed, shaking his head. “How did you even get here? Literally anyone could spot you out on the road-”

“Pays to work underground. I wouldn’t find any other way to see you after a whole month, darling.” Vincent chuckled, hand sliding down to intertwine with Michael’s. “But you’re getting sloppy. What if someone else took your jacket, hmm?”

“Well, no one did, huh? Someone always ends up back in my life when I least expect it.”

“I’m not hearing a thank-you like I asked for~”

“You want my gratitude that badly?” Michael smirked, back pressing against one of the walls. The space between them felt constricting, hand reaching forward to grasp the edge of his shirt, skin warm underneath. Their lips were inches apart. “Fine.”

----------

“Can I please just eat it now-?”

“No.”

“Why not? It’s been forever-”

“You ate four slices already!”

“And it’s pizza!”

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not a good enough reason. Michael’s not back yet- you’ve already had enough.”

“Well, it’s going cold anyways. Where the fuck even is that bathroom?” Mike huffed. “Fucking hell, I will eat the rest of this pizza if he’s not here in five and you can’t stop me.”

“We could try and find him.” Jeremy suggested from the other side of the couch. “Maybe if we split up to search-”

“No, you are staying with him to make sure he doesn’t eat any more.” Scott shot them both a stern look. “I’ll go on my own. It should be faster.”

“Damn dude, guess I’ll just starve-”

He turned away sharply before hearing the rest of Mike’s words, earning a bark of laughter. Stepping back into the pizzeria, he walked towards the cashier.

“Excuse me, but do you know where the nearest bathroom is?” Scott asked. “I’m assuming there’s not one inside.”

“Unfortunately not here, but…” They frowned for a moment, before snapping their fingers. “Ah! Next door. Inside the shop, I’m certain they have one. Right to the left.”

He gave quick thanks, making his way out to the street. However, the search in the small building turned out dry too, with no sign of the prince inside. Scott rubbed his temples with a sigh, starting to walk back to the pizzeria.

This was supposed to be quick. Where had Michael gone? Even if not in that store, it shouldn’t have been far. Scott leaned against the store, trying to think. His jacket was still back on the couch with them, so it wouldn’t do any good to try and call him. Hopefully there was nothing dangerous at play, but-

Then, a shuffle at the edge of his hearing. Jolting away from the wall, Scott’s eyes widened as he whipped around. “What-”

He was met with nothing. Well, not exactly. There was a narrow space between the two buildings, one he hadn’t noticed earlier. But that noise had definitely been from there.

“Hello?” He called out, stepping towards the corridor. No further sound.

Scott wasn’t satisfied, though. He tread through the gap, barely enough space to stretch out his arms. Between that and the scattered debris, it took a lot of caution to keep his presence quiet, slowly nearing the back of both buildings.

A small sigh echoed through, and he perked up. Definitely around the back of the store. An inaudible mutter followed, too soft to make out words. A lower chuckle. Who was-?

“Fuck, Vince…”

Scott stiffened at the breathy moan.

What.

What.

Never in his life had he expected to hear something like that from Michael. Never in his life had he wanted to hear something like that from Michael. And definitely not now, with zero context.

Goddamnit, Scott should have stayed back. Maybe sent Mike out to search instead, even if the prince ended up in the same spot- anything to forget that. Who was Michael even-?

He cut off the question right in his mind, shaking his head to clear it. He found Michael. There was that. Now…

…

Fuck it, he had to know.

Summoning all of his remaining willpower, Scott walked all the way to the back, taking a deep breath as he looked towards the right. “Michael-”

The scribe froze mid-name.

Michael, his best friend, soldier, and elite prince, was pinned against the brick wall, cheeks flushed pink and making out with another person, hands carding through their hair. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, one sleeve off his shoulder and tan skin covered in dark love bites. The moment Scott spoke, his eyes flew open, shoving them away.

“What the fuck- Scott?!” He sputtered, blush growing darker as he pulled up his shirt, refastening the buttons. “It- you-”

“Told you we should have checked out that noise earlier.” Remarked his partner, meeting Scott’s stunned expression with a crooked smile. “Whoops.”

He raised an eyebrow as he took in the stranger’s appearance. They weren’t as disheveled as Michael, dark skin making it hard to see any blemishes- it was somehow purple but he could worry about that later- and a tangled ponytail, still messy yet they seemed perfectly at ease. Same with the jeans and t-shirt. Scott opened his mouth in the heavy silence. “Can I-”

“No. Whatever you’re about to ask, I- no.” Michael pressed his palms to his face. “Oh my god just- please just leave, I can’t- why couldn’t you just wait?!”

“...It was taking a while and Mike was threatening to eat your pizza if you weren’t back soon…?”

A beat. Michael’s partner started to laugh, earning them a grimace. “Vin, I swear-”

“Okay, but you have to admit that’s funny.” ‘Vin’ shrugged, still wearing the same careless grin. “I’d assume that it’s time for me to leave, then.”

“...Sure.” Michael managed. The irritation faded for a split second as their eyes met. “I’ll… see you around. Some other time.”

“You know it.” He gave a not-so-subtle wink, leaning in for a brief kiss against his jaw. Pulling back, ‘Vin’ glanced at Scott, starting to back away. He raised up a quick peace sign. “Just warn a pair next time. Cheers!”

“Wait-” Scott didn’t get a chance to finish before the man was back in the shadows, out of sight in a matter of seconds. He snapped his mouth shut, turning back to Michael, his friend resolutely staring at the wall. “How did…”

“He’s always been good at sneaking around.” Michael muttered. “His specialty.”

Well, at least with just the two of them… “Now can I-?”

“Fine.” He sighed, combing back his hair. “Let’s just get walking.”

“How long?” Scott began, as they made their way towards the street. “He’s not… an elite, is he.”

“No. Probably never will be.” The prince muttered. “I… met Vincent last summer. It was kind of an accident, he was just there on the grounds while I was training and-”

“He was infiltrating the castle?”

“It wasn’t-” Michael huffed. “I stopped him anyways. He wasn’t actually trying to get in, just… hanging around. Being annoying. He got away, but kept coming back.”

“I don’t get how you managed to keep this hidden for so long. Were you ever going to say anything?” Scott frowned. “If the queen knew that you-”

“Well, she doesn’t know, alright? No one was supposed to.” He snapped, raking back his hair. “It’s not like I was abandoning my duties. I only see him once or twice a month.”

“But how?” The scribe was still trying to piece everything together. There had been no signs at all before this sudden reveal. Nothing odd with Michael’s demeanor. No mysterious absences. “I don’t get how you manage the time when you’re still patrolling at night, and with those events-”

Then he froze in place, eyes widening. Those parties. Those injuries.

Scott’s head snapped over to his friend, who met his gaze with tired expectancy. “What?”

“Those- your injuries.” He started, memories starting to fit together. “When- you always spent the whole night out, and just- you said you never found them but-”

“And there we go.” Michael said dryly. “...Yeah, it was him. It was always him.”

A beat. “Michael, for the love of the whole province, why?”

He gave a snort of amusement. “It’s not like he’s actually hurting me, alright? You saw the last one. Just a cut sleeve.” The prince fiddled with the edge of his shirt. “But it’s… different. It’s not every day that someone manages to trick me. I told you, he’s good at staying hidden.”

Scott was silent for a moment longer, just shaking his head. “You can’t expect me to just keep this to myself forever. This is… literally everything you have ever tried to avoid.”

“Yeah, no shit. I kept silent so well that it took a complete accident for you to find out.” Michael bit his lip as they neared the pizzeria. “...I’ll tell Jeremy after the festival. That’s it. No one else.”

“No one?”

“What, you think Mike would be able to stay silent?” He shot him a look that was quick to soften. “Besides… you two are the ones I trust the most. I know I said I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, but this is important. I… I get that. And for anyone to suddenly find out… I’d definitely prefer it to be you.”

Scott released a long breath. “So I get to see you making out with your secret boyfriend, out of anyone else. Aren’t I glad.”

“Oh, shut up.” Michael nudged him in the side. “Also, I’m fairly certain Mike’s already eaten my pizza anyways.”

“I told Jeremy to keep an eye on him.”

“It’s fine. I’m not really hungry anyways.”

“What, because you were having a different meal-?”

“I regret this already.”

[fnaficsfordays]

Frozen Sorrow

AO3 Link

Word Count: 1740

Warnings: Drowning, possible character death

----------

"Do you believe in second chances?"

The words broke through the early autumn evening, leaves on the trees around them just starting to fray yellow and orange at the edges. Michael paused in his steps, dark green eyes flickering over to the man walking besides him.

"It depends on what it's for." He tilted his head in thought, short brown hair fluttering in the light breeze. "Like, in the basic way of justice, I think some people are always going to be assholes that take advantage of others that give them out freely. The world isn't perfect. But..."

"But?"

Michael met his silver gaze. "But in general, I'd say so. Serious stuff like murder is way too subjective to slap a general label, but for every day stuff and relationships, giving the benefit of the doubt at least once can be pretty good. Even if a second chance doesn't get used properly, you'd at least have a better idea of if they deserve another chance again, or just let it go." He suddenly gave a breathy laugh. "That got more philosophical than I was expecting. I didn’t even think about second chances in terms of just life and mortality. Why'd you ask in the first place?"

His acquaintance shrugged, wry grin curving up on his lips. "Just came to mind, I guess. Like all randomly deep thoughts do."

"So then you decide to make me answer that instead of yourself. Genius."

"Aw, I think you answered it wonderfully." He slung a mauve-hued arm around Michael’s shoulders. "Come on Mike, you're a debate captain in the making already."

"Joke's on you, I was a co-captain of my high school's debate club already." Michael smirked. "Bet it's more than you."

"Which is exactly why I wanted to hear your answer, sweetheart."

He rolled his eyes, nudging the man with an elbow. "Flatterer."

"Only the best for the best."

"Is that supposed to compliment me or yourself?"

"Why not both?" He leaned forward. "That's the whole point of relationships, isn't it?"

"Or it’s tax evasion."

"But that's an obvious given already." A sharp grin. "You, on the other hand, are even better."

"Ah, yes. Nothing says 'I love you' more than 'your worth as a human being is at least more than a few saved dollars'."

"Pretty sure it's more than that." The man pressed a brief kiss to Michael’s lips, pulling away with a soft smile. "Come on, the sun's setting. We're nearly at the lake."

"Still think we could have brought something to eat."

"We'll be fine! We're only staying until eight."

"That's what you always say, Vince." He retorted, exasperated words not diminishing the fond tone. "We'll be here until the moon comes out. You never let us leave before then."

"I get it! Just a little." Vincent put up his arms in a faux-surrender. "I never hear you complain by the time it gets that late, though-"

"Only for you." Michael sighed. "And don't you make me regret it."

"I could never. Look, there we are."

A set of mauve fingers slid underneath his paler chin, swiveling Michael's vision towards a glittering expanse of water. The lake was turned amber by the sunset, golden droplets flickering on the surface, drinking in the heat of the fading day.

They traveled down onto the short pier stretching out of the sandy bank, sitting down side by side on the wooden edge. Vincent released a long, slow breath, fingers resting on top of Michael's hand.

"Can't wait until it's winter." He noted, water reflected in his bright gaze. "The cold sucks, but the ice'll make up for that."

"As long as you don't try to walk on it again, we're good."

"Come on, it was the first time I saw the lake freeze over! It was only for a few minutes, you even joined in-"

"Well, someone had to keep you from falling and getting sent to the hospital."

"Ouch, my pride." A mischievous glint suddenly forced itself into those silver irises. "What if I want to fall, huh?"

"Wha-"

Before Michael could finish, Vincent's hands were drawing up from the wooden planks, arms raised and-

Oh shit.

His eyes widened just as he realized what was happening. But it was too late, as fingers gripped his shoulders, shoving both of them back, choking on an indignant shout before cold liquid flooded up around his face, his lover's hands still bunched up in his shirt-

Michael came up for air just moments after, spluttering in shock. He was barely aware of Vincent's wheezing laughter besides him, strands of dark violet hair clinging to his face, water dripping down his neck. Despite being equally as soaked, the delight in the man's eyes had only grown, much to Michael's chagrin.

"You absolute-" He cut himself with a cough, shaking his vision clear. "Goddamnit- I can't believe you just went and-"

"Oh, I'm beyond sure that it's believable." Vincent chuckled, leaning forward. "And, hey, it's not like you're the only one that went overboard-"

"You were the one that pushed in the first place, dumbass!"

"And you already knew it was going to happen! I could see it on your face immediately!" He cackled, wrapping his arms around Michael's shoulders. With a groan, he rested his head in the crook of Vincent's neck, the warmth of his body slowly easing away the chill. "Come on, you love me. You know you do."

"Sadly, yes."

"Hey!"

A smile tugged at the corner of Michael's lips, sinking further into his embrace. The excitement of earlier faded away into a fond peace, only the lapping waves around them breaking the silence.

"I want something like this in the future." He murmured, hand moving to intertwine with Vincent's. "We could just own a place like this. Just a little lake to ourselves that we could visit any time."

"Asking me to empty my wallet out?"

"Oh, hush. You've been all romantic already, let me have my turn." Michael rolled his eyes. "...But when we have enough money, maybe. Maybe we could."

He could feel his lover's heartbeat against his spine, a sigh relaxing it even further. "That would be really nice."

They stood in the water for some time like that, gently swaying with the rippling surface. The stars were beginning to glimmer above, against a darkening sky, sun nearly out of view underneath the horizon. Michael didn't mind the icy droplets still trickling down all over his body, not when Vincent still held him so close, so intimately. Lulled by the rhythm, he let his eyes close for a moment.

Something like this.

I want something like this.

----------

So why didn't they still have it?

Michael didn't have it.

Michael didn't have him.

Michael...

Where was Michael?

His eyes flew open once more to shades of blue all around, sheets of darkness surrounding his form. Vincent was gone, warm touch against his skin having left long ago.

Warm.

When was the last time he'd felt warm?

His feet sank into the mud beneath, the ghost of a shudder passing through his nerves at the viscous sensation. Everything was so unbearably cold. Maybe it had once been a metaphor just for the bitter emptiness that staked itself inside his chest, but then it spread. Spread all around his body, any attempt at movement stiff and unyielding, numb to it all. None of his senses seemed to work anymore, except the constant, pressing, overlaying, screaming cold.

…

This wasn’t the type of second chance they’d talked about.

Really, it didn’t feel like a chance at all. Any effort to make it out of this murky world was met with nothing but pain across his chest, a sickly weight clamping down on his stomach and throat that made him want to vomit. It halted any awareness he might've had, vision sputtering out until his gaze cleared once more- though the gloom was constant, no matter how conscious he was.

This can’t be right.

The low temperatures receded for a moment at the thought, and he clung to that moment, forcing his eyes shut from the icy turquoise. Was it Vincent saying that? Michael could barely remember his voice at this point. Even when it rang out in dreams, the phantom memory would be gone as soon as he was awake. The clearest he could remember was...

Shouting. Panicked shouting, a purple hand outreached, one he knew would have been warm, yet something shattered and let in the cold, cold that burned, burned his chest, closed him up, closed him off-

His form shuddered violently, liquid rippling around him. Memories hurt as well, that one in particular.

But Vincent was supposed to be here. Somehow Michael knew that. Somehow he remembered that this area was something they'd gone through together, dropped in yet always pulling each other out. Never had the warmth actually succumbed to the unforgiving chill, nor his lungs filled with a choking substance that wasn't supposed to be there.

So why now? Why had it been like this for- for weeks? Months? Maybe even years?

"Come back."

The words only just escaped his ragged throat, a tremble working through his shoulders as he finished. He rarely tried to talk nowadays, when the fluid both inside and outside his body tightened more at the effort. Michael didn't know how much it did or didn't resemble his voice from before, either- didn't know if he even wanted it to. But he still tried. Still managed a barren whisper from time to time, in the dull hopes that someone would hear. That Vincent would hear.

He always heard Michael before. He always cared before. What happened? Was Vincent okay? Was he himself okay?

No answers came.

All the while, a mauve figure sat hunched over on the edge of a wooden pier, curled up on himself. A dark jacket was hastily wrapped around his shivering form, mere sliver of the moon shining above in the wintry night. Silver irises lay low, gazing at his dim reflection in the sheen of ice. Were he more willing to focus his eyes into the water below, a flickering, misty figure would have been apparent, staring blindly at him with a dark green gaze, brown locks of hair floating around a pale face.

But he was already aware.

And if tears traced across both their faces and stung the frozen layer, no one else would be aware.

[fnaficsfordays]

All Tramp and No Lady

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2460

No warnings!

----------

He never did like that suit.

Not how pristine it sat across his shoulders, golden embroidery outshining the midnight blue fabric. It flowed effortlessly with his frame, such a contrast to the half an hour it took to get the outfit on- and to take it off. Michael felt slightly better in knowing that his family's creed and fashion was one of the least fussy in their region, but still. The pinned medals of silver on his lapel, earned through years of fighting and training, were the only elite symbols he could feel genuine pride in- bless his mother for letting him make them part of his image, even if she never let him go to an important event without the rest of the suit.

And with a splash of crimson trailing down his newly-torn sleeve, his heart could only pound in manic energy and satisfaction.

The elites around Michael stifled gasps as his wound became more visible, all of them backing away with wide eyes. He pressed his fingers to the cut on his forearm, hissing at the sting it gave. The blow had toed the perfect line between light and vicious, slicing his flesh before he could have ever caught a glimpse of the blade or body behind it. Blood roared in his ears, gaze flitting around in search of the culprit- though he already knew who it was.

Where did he go? Where did he go?

"What happened?" The question broke through his hidden glee, sharp footsteps sounding out behind him. A hand gripped his shoulder, turning around to face a matching pair of forest-green irises. "Michael, you-"

"It looks worse than it is." He assured, giving them a nod. "Couldn't have been an actual attempt at murder. Just a passing strike. But it was quick. I didn't get a single glance of- them."

The older elite's gaze was still wary, nails digging slightly into his coat. "You should head back to the parlor area right now. I'll summon a guard to escort-"

"Mother, it's not far away in the castle. I can make it up two staircases on my own, I promise." Michael shifted slightly, fingers sliding towards a metal handle hidden underneath the navy coat. "I haven't gotten these medals for nothing."

A spark of amusement awoke in her expression as she followed his movements to the dagger in his belt. "Alright, then." She relented, stepping back. Some of the sternness remained as she tilted her head. "Call up your scribes to stay near for the rest of the night, though."

"Both?"

His mother rolled her eyes. "As you so please, Prince." She turned around, dark brown wisps of hair floating in the air as she walked back towards a group of elder elites. "I was thinking about sending the ranks to seek out whichever tramp here injured you, but I have a feeling that you'll take care of them yourself if you run into them again."

Heh. Tramp.

"Of course, Queen." Michael snorted, not even bothering to wrap the throbbing cut as he walked to the edge of the ballroom. The prying looks of the nearby guests trailed after him as he left, and he could only imagine the exchanged glances and murmurs that would remain throughout the rest of the night.

Tramp.

He scaled the stairs, walking not up but down to the first floor, the hallways leading to the kitchen and dining hall pleasantly empty. With a fleeting glance around, he slipped off his echoing dress shoes, opting to dart down the halls at a faster speed, towards his true destination.

Tramp.

Not that his mother could fault him if she saw. He went out of his way to track down other instances of infiltration within the palace grounds all the time- and she'd overlook a little lack of etiquette easily.

Tramp.

As for where Michael was headed, the library was still where the scribes did their job in cataloguing and writing, including Scott and Jeremy as two of his selected personal assistants. The queen knew plenty well that he and the two had gotten very close through the years of training together from a young age, turning a purposeful blind eye as their friendship became much less formal than other families would have allowed. Still, that wasn't quite the reason Michael was heading over to the library now.

Tramp.

As grateful as he was for his mother's relaxed and nurturing approach to ruling and raising him, not everything would go over well in her viewpoint as head of their family's land. Some things had to stay as full secrets, and as he opened the mahogany doors to the labyrinth of polished shelves and books, this was another.

Tramp.

He could probably walk the path within the maze of writing blind at this point, driven by nothing but muscle memory and excitement of what he knew he'd find.

Tramp.

And it was a lovely find, lovelier than any party he'd ever attended. No one would ever be able to tell Michael otherwise.

Tramp.

Not when that familiar shelf was nearing, slivers of light falling between the cracks-

Slam!

His vision blurred, and suddenly he was shoved against the wood, shoulders grating into book spines. A set of fingers held his injured arm in a vice grip, wrist tightening right on top of the cut.

Newfound pain running aflame across his nerves, Michael felt invorigated.

Slamming his free hand down on the attacker's elbows, Michael was able to reach his dagger, pulling it away from his belt and slashing upwards. He heard a grunt as the tip dug into flesh, the person sidestepping far enough to avoid further damage, letting go of his arm. They weren't done though, soon curving their own silver blade towards his neck. Michael dodged, grabbing their forearm as it passed by, gritting his teeth as he used his other hand to pin the limb behind their back. The dagger he was still holding pressed into their elbow.

Before the scuffle could end, their knee suddenly knocked into the back of Michael's foot, swinging him off balance as they twisted into his grip, slamming back against his chest. An arm hooked around his waist before he could hit the ground, leaving him suspended and breathless at the mercy of his attacker.

"Hey, darling." They leaned in closer, silver irises glittering with a ravenous mischief, tip of their knife digging into his spine. "Nice job at fucking up my arm."

He rolled his eyes. "You're still holding me, aren't you?"

"Would you rather I let you drop?" Vincent pulled him up all the way, still grinning as he brushed his violet ponytail off his shoulder. "Stone floors hurt quite a bit."

"So do..." Michael narrowed his eyes at the thin blade he was holding, familiar crest stamped into the antique handle. "Letter openers. Really?"

"What can I say, your scribes do quite a good job at keeping them sharp." He spun the metal around his mauve fingers, licking his lips. Now Michael could see the cut he'd left on the corner of his mouth. "You keep your weapons in good condition too, Prince."

"Please, it's the reason I was able to convince my mother that I could leave the party without an escort. Be grateful."

"Who said I wasn't?" Vincent stepped back towards the shelf, fingers picking at the books. "Come on, I didn't take all that risk to crash your royal party just for you to complain about a little cut."

"Heh." Michael tugged at the shelf with him, finally managing to remove a couple of books. The night breeze flooded through the gap that lay behind them, faint moonlight seeping in. "As if you wouldn't infiltrate just to cut me."

"You wouldn't say a word either if that was the case."

"...Bastard."

Vincent chuckled as they slipped through and onto the grass, out of the castle within seconds. Moving to cover the hole back up, Vincent looked him down. "Where are your shoes?"

"Oh." Michael glanced at his bare feet. "Tossed them down some hallway on the way to the library. I'll just retrieve them later."

"Aw, that eager to see me?"

"Shut up. You walk around without shoes all the time."

"Yeah, except I'm not living in a castle and made to wear ten layers of clothes."

"Wow, talk like that and I'll be convinced that you don't want me taking them off-"

"Oh, not a chance." Vincent leaned in for a moment, purring the words into his ear. He pulled away with a chuckle as Michael whirled around, face flushing red. "Come on, you should've expected it. Look at your face."

"Don't make me regret leaving that party." He snorted, standing up as the last book slipped into place. "Let's get out of here before someone shows up and kills us."

"Please, you're the only one that'd ever manage to get rid of me."

"And you'll be the death of me."

"So it all works out! Perfect."

Michael could feel a grin rising back up to his face, pulled along and away from the palace by his lover. Every time, Vincent just managed to pull it off, finding yet another scenario to infiltrate the castle through. The first time they'd met, it hadn't been too much different- with the rugged loner caught sneaking around the family's garden whilst the prince was training on his own, late at night. Michael would have turned him in, he had gotten the upper hand in the scuffle that ensued- but Vincent, ever the same, had gotten back the element of surprise by flirting with him, slipping out of his grasp shortly after. And... Well, he returned. With even more flirting.

If he'd been born into a stricter elite family, this relationship would probably have been halted a while ago. Some of them would never even allow their children to be a guard or soldier like his mother did- and how else had he found Vincent? Even she'd find his sly livings in an underground bar to be repulsive, unnatural skin tone only ever covered by a loose shirt and ripped slacks. But the thrill of the secret hunt, taste of their forbidden lust and love singing sweet on his tongue, was a blade that could always strike Michael down.

The queen's formidable prince and soldier, having a nightly affair with a street fox. The headlines would be laughable.

And really, as they ducked into the dark place of indecency, slipping away from the knowing look of the barkeep behind the dimly lit countertop, Michael didn't doubt that he'd laugh along with them.

Tramp.

"What's funny?" Vincent glanced back for a moment as he shut the door to his little room, eyebrows quirked.

"Just remembered something my mother said when I got cut." He snickered. "She- She called whoever did it a tramp."

His lover paused for a moment, before shrugging. "Accurate."

"And she was still just referring to the guests. That's cold to elites, yet it's the most accurate phrase to ever exist."

"If only she knew about this." Vincent chuckled lowly, eyes glittering with desire. "You know what makes it more accurate?"

Michael could feel their arms sliding closer together, heat rising in the thinning space between them. "I have a strong guess."

He could taste the slight tang of blood on his lover's lips as they pressed against his own, thoughts growing murkier as Vincent backed him against the edge of his bed. Kisses grew more passionate, touches roaming further against each other's skin, the underground room keeping their delights hidden from the palace above.

If I could change a single thing about my life right now, Michael thought later, curled up in Vincent's arms, I wouldn't.

----------

"The party is over by now, right?"

Scott glanced over at his fellow scribe. They twisted their fingers together, biting their lip as they met his gaze, continuing quickly. "I-I mean, it started all the way back at sunset, right? And I don't think it would've lasted much longer after he got injured."

"It's definitely over by now, it's nearing midnight and the queen's already retired to bed." Scott rubbed his chin. "Maybe he's still trying to find whoever did it."

"He wouldn't put in that much time just for one dude! Besides, they said it wasn't a bad wound at all. He hates parties already, but surely he'd rather turn in early instead of wasting more energy."

"In fairness, Jeremy, the situation did sound intriguing. No one managed to see who did it at all. Some of the guests were carrying weapons, but they weren't all blades, and those that were all got cleared by someone else with them at that moment. The culprit's got some real ability in sneaking all the way- and then not even fully taking him out. Just one cut. " He pointed out with a shrug. "Unless it was a distraction for something else-"

"Hey." Both of them swiveled around at the sound of the door opening. Michael stepped in, green eyes dull. His stained coat and tie were off, dagger still attached at his belt. The white dress shirt was also stained dark around the area of the cut, and though wrinkled, was still buttoned up all the way. "Sorry for taking a while."

"It's fine. We heard about the whole incident already." Jeremy blinked, brown curls flopping over as he tilted his head. "What happened to your shoes?"

Michael groaned. "Fuck. I forgot I left them in a hallway while searching around. I'll get them tomorrow, just don't tell mom."

"...Sure." Scott watched him closely as he set down the ruined clothes in a basket. "Did you really not find them after all that time?"

"No, I guess they get to go free tonight." He snorted. "That was exhausting. I'm going to bed right after I wash off."

"The antiseptic got restocked. It's with the bandages under the sink." Scott watched him walk away with a thankful nod, hand tugging his shirt collar up. The moment the bathroom door closed behind him, Jeremy spoke up.

"He's really out of it."

"I guess it's the first time in a while that he hasn't been able to detain someone harmful." Scott stifled a chuckle. "Really, it's almost insulting that they left such an inconsequential wound."

"Or maybe they led him on a goose-chase around the castle and he got fed up with it."

"That too." Scott narrowed his eyes at the polished wood. "Something tells me this isn't the end."

"Do you think it's going to happen again?"

"If it does, it'll most definitely be the same person."

"I can't wait for the next party, then."

"You know what?" He smirked at his friend. "Me too."

[fnaficsfordays]

Worth.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 1546

No warnings!

----------

“Are they done yet?”

The bright voice piped up besides him, right next to the stovetop. William glanced away from the pan at the soft curls of orange hair, shining green eyes peering over the counter.

“Now, what did I say about getting too close to the cooking?” He chided lightly. “You don’t want to get burned. Go and wait in the living room.”

“But I’m starving.” She whined. “Can’t they be ready now?”

“I can’t control how long it takes for breakfast to cook, Elizabeth.” He chuckled. “Just a few more minutes. I promise.”

“Lizzy, come on!” Another little face poked around the corner, a soft mop of mousy brown hair falling over their eyes. “Michael says it’s our turn to play with Helpy.”

“You see? Christopher’s waiting for you.” William nodded. “It’ll all be finished before you know it, darling.”

“Can we take it outside, at least?” She tilted her head.

“Not ‘till after breakfast, but you know it’s perfectly happy to play hide-and-seek indoors.”

“Thanks, daddy!” With that, she raced away, bow bouncing in her hair.

He shook his head with a fond smile, turning back to the sizzling pan. Nearby, a clock blinked green digits from the wall. Only half past seven? It looked like breakfast really would be done in just a minute or two...

“I’ll find it before you do!”

“No you won’t!”

A skittering, scuffling noise diverted his attention, a flash of pink and white on the tile floor. William blinked for a moment as he saw the tiny bear hop onto the kitchen counter, flattening its ears as it ducked behind the spice rack next to the stovetop.

His smirk widened as it met his eyes, reflecting the grin from its pink cheeks as it crouched in hiding. His gaze trailed back to the living room, where the twins were still searching. “I don’t think they’ll find you by the time these are done, buddy.”

Helpy laughed silently from behind the glass bottles. William rolled his eyes in amusement, flipping over one of the pancakes. The warm, freshly sweet scent wafted through the kitchen.

“How many pancakes are left?” He turned to face someone coming in. Their dark green eyes blinked at him, a set of papers held in their arms. “Is breakfast almost ready?”

“Very.” William replied, gaze falling on the papers. “The designs are coming along well?”

Michael gave a small nod. “I-I think Ballora would be the most expensive, though, with all the advanced tech… So, I thought building a miniature model would be a better start.”

“That’s most likely.” He agreed, taking the sheets in his hand. Models and pictures were sketched neatly in pencil, occasional phrases around them standing out. “Hmm… but a working model, you say?”

“K-Kind of?” He waved his hands around. “Like, maybe something that would help model Ballora herself, but also maybe… dance with her, onstage. Kind of like Helpy. Something that would actually be used, while still being a… a-”

“Prototype?”

“Yeah, that.” Michael nodded quickly. “Just… a little idea I kind of came up with.”

William gave a soft chuckle, ruffling his hair with his free hand. “It’s a great idea, Mike.”

“Really?” He blinked.

“Of course it is.” He said. “The pizzeria would definitely be a better place if kids could directly interact with some of the animatronics. I’d say a group of miniature ballerinas alongside her would suffice quite well!”

Michael didn’t meet his eyes, face flushing with embarrassment. “...Thanks, dad.”

“You’re welcome, Mike.” He glanced at the papers again. “Already did your homework?”

“Well…”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll guess that’s not entirely a yes.”

“I did math and science.” He mumbled. “...Not english yet. The- the sentences and words and questions that they make over a single paragraph is just- I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t.” He shook his head, a small smile on his face. “But you still have to do it, Mike. We can go over it once you give it a shot, ‘kay?”

His face brightened ever so slightly behind his pouty expression. “...Alright.”

“Now, go on and get the twins down here.” He added, gaze trailing back down to the frying pan. “The pancakes are done.”

Michael gave a nod, turning around. William slid the food over to a set of plates, carrying them over to a table. Behind himself, he could still hear their chirping voices.

“Guys, the pancakes are done and it’s time to-”

“But we haven’t found Helpy yet!”

“Did you help it hide?”

“I… haven’t seen it at all since you two started playing.”

“But we haven’t been able to find it at all!”

“Hmph… I know I still would have won.”

“No, I would have!”

He gave a snort, glancing back at the spice rack. The mechanical bear was shaking with quiet giggles behind the bottles, mischievous gaze meeting his own. “Come on, you two. Breakfast first. Then you can keep looking for Helpy.”

“Aww…”

The twins came through the kitchen with downcast pouts on both of their faces, Michael trailing behind. He set down glasses of milk just as they pulled out the seats, sitting down at the polished mahogany table.

“Are you two catching up with your homework as well?” William glanced at them, raising an eyebrow. “I know that a certain pair of you were staying up last night on the television.”

They exchanged guilty frowns. “Maybe a little…” Christopher mumbled.

“We don’t even have that much.” Elizabeth protested, giving him a pleading look. “We can finish it today or tomorrow, I promise!”

“Promise?” William chuckled.

“Promise!” They spoke in unison, nodding fiercely.

“Dad, can I have the foxy mask after breakfast?” Michael muttered.

His gaze shifted towards him. “Going out with your friends?”

“Well… yeah.” He admitted. “I kind of already said I’d meet them at Jeremy’s, and…”

“Hmm. How long?

“I was gonna come back by lunchtime.” Michael looked at him. “I can do the english stuff in the afternoon, I promise.”

“All of you making promises to catch up on your schoolwork.” He gave a soft smile. “I suppose you can take it today, but make sure you’re back on time, alright?”

“I will.” He said quickly, relaxing back into his seat.

The meal continued in a peaceful silence, save for the small jostling feet underneath the table. William thought back to the designs, frowning slightly in thought.

Miniature ballerinas… He bit his lip. Such a group would definitely need some sort of name to go along with them. Minireena, maybe? Or just give each of them their own unique name? After all, if they were going to have individual designs, then perhaps it would be-

“Helpy!”

Christopher’s little cry of surprise and glee jolted him out of his thoughts, gaze following his pointed finger to the spice rack. His grin widened as he saw the pink and white bear stepping out of hiding, hopping up and down on the countertop. It scuttled over to the dining table, climbing up his chair and scrambling onto his shoulder.

“No fair!” Elizabeth pouted. “It was hiding in the kitchen!”

“I still spotted him first!” He giggled, the mechanical bear nuzzling its head against his cheek. “And before you.”

“I was wondering if you two would realize where it’d gone.” William chuckled, standing up from his chair, with a now-empty plate. “It was there behind the spices the whole time.”

“But that’s cheating!” She whined. “You never said anything.”

“Well, I wasn’t playing, now was I?” He chuckled, putting the plate into the sink. “Chris still found it first without my help.”

“Hmph.” Elizabeth crossed her arms. Helpy glanced over with a tilt of the ears, hopping over and wrapping its arms around her in a fierce hug. She brightened up, petting it with a hand. “Thanks, Helpy.”

William walked towards the edge of the kitchen, watching them with fond eyes. “Make sure you keep it hidden under the fence when you’re outside, alright?”

“We promise!”

“You three could make promises every single day, I swear…”

He murmured the words to himself as he made his way towards his room, with Michael’s designs in hand. Setting them down on the desk, he turned on a lamp and fished out another blank sheet of paper, clicking a ballpoint pen. He carefully copied down the model sketches, rubbing his chin in thought as he rolled over the concepts further in his head.

“Miniature working models… dancing alongside her… serve as protos and full performers…” William muttered out loud, glancing over Michael’s own work. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked through the sketches. “You did quite the good job, Mike.”

A sudden, muffled squeal from outside caught his attention. He stood up, rolling up the blinds of the window in front of him. It held a view of the backyard, the bright green grass swaying to a slight breeze. But there was also movement, as two- no, three little figures ran around, laughing as they darted through the yard.

William watched them for a few moments longer, a warm feeling encasing his chest as the twins chased Helpy around in the yard. All of you are worth anything and everything, as long as I’m still around.

[fnaficsfordays]

Thanks, Jeremy.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2442

No warnings!

----------

Why did I agree to this.

The thought was running through Michael’s splitting head for the thousandth time that night as he clutched the edge of the countertop, arms barely propping himself up. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand as he shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the ringing in his ears. The music blaring from the stereo over two rooms away was unbearable as he stayed there for a moment, blearily blinking his eyes open as he tried to focus yet again.

When was the last time that he’d gone to one of these college parties…? Oh, right. Never. But his and Jeremy’s conversation the night prior had somehow broken that streak.

“Just once!” His freckled face had been so unbelievably bright, hopeful grin stretching from ear to ear. “Come on, we’re going to be done with this place in less than half a year. Don’t you want at least something to remember?”

“I think that staying long enough for a degree is torture enough. I don’t need another night to add onto that shit.” Michael had rolled his eyes, prepared to turn away immediately, but Jeremy had been far from done.

“Alright, then let me rephrase.” An uncharacteristic, sly undertone caught his attention. “Don’t you want at least someone to remember?”

It felt like a record scratch in his own head had gone off at that. “Excuse me, I-I am not-”

“You sure?” He giggled, mischief sparkling in his gaze. “I think I can remember someone getting jealous when Scott came over a week ago-”

“I am not looking for a relationship. Period.” Michael snapped, trying to ignore the rising heat in his cheeks. “And I’m definitely not picking up someone at a party like this.”

“Come on, you never know!” Jeremy leaned back, hands raised in a shrug. “Just once. It’s only going to be a few hours or so, and you’d be able to leave whenever you wish.”

“...But if we’re both going in the same car, then how are you-”

“Scott’s going to be there.” Now a tinge of pink was on his cheeks as he glanced away. “So, I- well-”

“Wow, what an absolutely brilliant plan to get lucky with your boyfriend for the night.” Michael snorted.

“N-Not like that!” He flushed red. “L-Look, are you coming or not?”

He hefted a large sigh. “Alright, fine. But don’t look at me if I leave ten minutes in.”

But he had not left just ten minutes in.

And now, here he was, over two hours into the god-awful party, with a headache that wasn’t even caused by the alcohol.

Michael suppressed the urge to groan as he shoved himself away from the counter, vision spinning in all the flashing lights. He’d be amiss (even more than he already was) if he didn’t admit that he’d expected to be able to handle the crowds of people better than Jeremy himself. But no, underneath the shy, anxious exterior was a ball of energy that dazzled in the spotlight- let alone when he was with Scott. Michael, however, had absolutely none of that.

Who even knew if they were still around at this point. They might’ve even already left for Scott’s house for the night.

At least they won’t be doing it in our apartment. The slightest amusement irked up at the thought, but it quickly dissipated as his surroundings slammed back into his head. God, he really shouldn’t have tried to stick around for as long as he did- or maybe just not gone at all. Yeah, the latter option was really pressing in at this point.

Michael glanced around, trying to block out the noise and lights. Even if he wasn’t actually all that intoxicated from the drinks, trying to get out of this apartment in the first place was going to be a literal hell. He doubted he’d be able to get back to his car and drive off immediately just like that- it’d probably be a while until the ringing would come anywhere close to fading away.

But where to go? If he could remember anything in this sensory nightmare, they were on the second floor of this building- sure, the party had stretched all the way through both the first and second floors, but still. There had to be somewhere for at least a moment of relief. Anything away from the crowds upon crowds of people would do, he didn’t fucking care at that goddamn point-

A balcony?

He blinked at the sudden thought, eyes darting around. He started to move again, footsteps quickening with each moment, trying to squeeze through the crowd. His gaze was fixed around the walls of the room, searching for anything that might lead to fresh air. Just the thing that he’d need at this point- fuck it if anyone else would be out there too. Any spot of peace would have to be enough.

Michael’s eyes suddenly halted on a sliding glass door, on the wall not much further away. Heart spiking, he jolted into all but a run as he shoved past the people, desperate to get out of all the noise, out of all the blaring lights, the people, the chaos-

His fingers finally closed around the handle, and without a second thought, he yanked it open, not caring how loud it was as he stepped outside.

He breathed a huge sigh of relief as he halted on that little balcony square, resting his palms around the metal railing. Although the lights weren’t completely blocked out by the curtains and the music was still muffled noise behind him, Michael felt the tension in his shoulders fade away as he just looked out into the comparatively calm, serene atmosphere. Dullen, barely visible wisps of cloud floated across the darkness, stars glittering ever so faintly beyond them. A light wind whisked through the air for a moment as he took in a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze rustling his hair.

As he finally came back to the moment, attention drawing back to the happenings behind that glass sliding door, he gave a slight huff, shutting his eyes tight for a moment. I am never going to another goddamn party again no matter what Jeremy says.

How long was he going to stay here, anyways? Michael didn’t quite want to throw up as much as he did back inside now that he’d had a chance to calm down, but the urge to leave was still there, pressing as ever. If he’d known an alcove of calm like this had existed two hours ago, then he would’ve made a run for it immediately. But of course he had to go through that horrible experience first before-

“You’re lucky the glass on that door didn’t break.”

Michael’s eyes shot wide open, thoughts getting cut off at the sudden voice, breaking into his frustration. He gripped the railing tight for a moment as his head jerked around, towards the other side of the balcony. Who the FUCK-

His panic spiked even higher for a split second before lowering back down as he spotted the gleaming pair of eyes from the corner, catching a flash of amusement in them for a moment. The guy behind them tilted his head at the movement.

“The fidgety type, huh?” He murmured the words out loud, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “You really don’t look like you expected someone else to be out here.”

“Not a person that fucking behaves like a statue for half an hour, no.” He snapped, glad for the darkness that hid the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man gave a shrug. “Just another person that doesn’t particularly enjoy the crowd at these events, I guess.” A soft chuckle came from him as he took a small step away from the corner he’d apparently been standing in the whole time. “And I’m fairly certain it’s only been ten minutes, at best.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Leave me alone. I don’t even want to be at this party.”

“And yet you came anyways?”

“Friend convinced me that it wouldn’t be bad. He was wrong.” He muttered, eyes trailing to the sky for a split second. But suddenly, his vision darted back towards him with a raised eyebrow. “Who convinced you to go?”

He gave a snort. “No one had to. I’m at these events all the time, and this apartment,” He waved a dark arm towards the building, “Hosts parties every other week.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t enjoy it, then why bother coming?”

“You don’t have to enjoy the people to enjoy the view.” His bright eyes flickered towards the sky for a moment. “And with free food as well for the night.”

He frowned. Something was still… off about the person, as casual as he was acting. He couldn’t completely put a finger on it, but… something was way too different about him compared to the crowds of partygoers inside. “...Did you even get invited?”

He flashed him an almost unnerving smile. “Bingo. I never do.”

Michael blinked. Well, he supposed it made enough sense. If the only perks the dude could see were right here on this balcony, then no wonder he didn’t need to try and make himself known to anyone else. “How often do you do this?”

“Seems to be more often than you.”

“Well excuse me for not knowing there was a balcony when I first got here.” He huffed. “Not all of us are willing to go through hours of torture just for food.”

“No indeed.” He could see the smirk on the man’s face as he rested his arms against the railing, only a few feet away from himself. “Just us two.”

There was a strange undercurrent in his words, almost… like a low purr of some sort. Michael stiffened as he heard it, but pushed it aside. “I wish I didn’t.”

“Really?” He chuckled. “Well, clearly you still did.”

“Yeah, but nothing’s proven that it’s worth it.” He snorted. “I’m not planning on staying any longer than I have to.”

“Shame.” He leaned forward, the same unreadable gleam in his eyes. “I was thinking that I might just stay a bit longer after meeting you.”

Michael froze slightly at the sudden pull in his words, heat starting to come to his cheeks as he met his eyes. The sparkling amusement in them, the thinly-veiled sultry tone in his voice-

The guy was flirting with him.

He dropped his eyes away at the realization, praying that he wouldn’t see how flushed his face was. “A bit forward considering I don’t even know your name, don’t you think?”

“And I don’t know yours.” The same low, sweet chuckle. “But I don’t need to when you’re already the catch all on your own.”

Michael rolled his eyes, trying to turn his gaze back towards the sky. “Do you flirt with everyone that comes out onto this balcony, or am I just that fucking special?”

“Maybe you are, maybe not.” He took another step closer, their elbows nearly touching. “But I’d certainly be willing to find out tonight.”

Smooth. He would never say it out loud, but still… something was itching for a taste the longer he stared at the strange man. Despite how much closer he was now, he still couldn’t make out the shade of that skin, dark and velvety and… alluring.

“Only if you’ll tell me your name first.” He said, forcing his voice to stay even.

“Fair’s fair.” He smirked. “It’s Vincent.”

It sounded so perfect when he said it. “My name’s Michael.”

“Suits you.” Vincent slid forward his hand on the railing, letting it rest on top of his own. “And as sweet as you look when you’re constantly scowling at the air, I can think of something better that you could have on your lips.”

“Oh, can you now?” Michael tried to ignore the fluttering of his own heart as a set of fingers slid underneath his chin.

“Yeah.” He leaned in close enough for him to feel his warm breath falling across his skin. “I sure can.”

Their lips connected, Michael’s eyes falling shut. His back was pressed hard against the railing as he leaned into the embrace, almost uncomfortable if it wasn’t for the fact that he could feel his mind slipping away with each passing moment. His hands gradually drifted towards Vincent’s hair, entangling his fingers in the silky mess.

He could feel his lips irk into a slight smile at the gesture, but he barely cared. Not as he felt a set of fingers curling around his back, cool to the touch as they slipped underneath the fabric of his shirt, sliding up his spine and tingling with a heavy energy as they rested in the small of his back.

It was a long, solid while until they broke away, the thin string of saliva that connected them breaking with their gasping breaths. Goddamnit, Michael had come out here to clear his mind, not have it get muddled all over again… But if he was being truthful, he didn’t mind this nearly as much.

He minded it even less as Vincent tilted his head to the side teasingly, a glittering amusement dancing in his silvery eyes. “Well?” He was still pressed enticingly close, the same low purr seeping into his words. “Did I manage to make up for the party?”

Michael’s heart was racing as he stared at his face, blinking for a moment as he glanced down at his arms still wrapped around his back. “You manage to call me the catch when you’ve literally got purple skin?”

“There’s a lot more purple than what you see right now.” His fingers slid around, now lightly grazing over his chest. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, that is~”

He didn’t answer for a moment, transfixed in his gaze. Quite the goddamn catch, huh?

“The party won’t notice a thing.” Vincent continued in the silence, hands still roaming slowly underneath his shirt. “And didn’t you say you wanted to go soon?”

Michael gave a breathy chuckle. “I think you’ve made up for the party enough for us to leave.”

“‘Us’?” The enticing question made his heart flutter with desire.

“Unless you've got a complaint.”

“No more talking here.” Vincent leaned forward, voice dropping down to a sultry whisper. “Not until we reach your place.”

Needless to say, they left the party very soon afterwards.

...And Jeremy did not fail to tell Michael ‘I told you so’ every single day after that night.

[fnaficsfordays]

Date Night

AO3 Link

Word Count: 806

No warnings!

A super short one-shot that involves the same characters as A Change of Heart. You can read more about it in the AO3 version linked above if you wish!

----------

He gave a soft sigh as he felt his back softly fall against the grass, the light green stems poking out from around his body. They tickled his skin as he shifted slightly against the ground, hand reaching out to wrap around another set of fingers besides him.

"Settled?" The calm voice sounded against the cool breeze rustling through the thin stalks, soothing him further into the night.

"Plenty." He chuckled, eyes falling away from the sky and onto the person besides himself, a soft smirk on their face. "This is quite nice."

Vincent gave a slight shrug, silver eyes warm as ever. "Yeah, I'm glad I was watching for a full moon."

"No kidding." Michael's gaze returned to the galactic landscape above, the silver sheen gently falling across the land below. Stars were scattered across the dark hue, specks of glittering white shining triumphantly. "The sky's beautiful tonight."

"Not as beautiful as you~"

He shook his head slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come on, stop it."

"Never." Vincent turned to look at him, hand tracing the side of his face as he grinned. "Not when it's true."

Michael wrapped a hand around his arm, running circles over it with his thumb, a light blush falling across his cheeks. "I love you too."

They fell into a serene silence, Michael resting his head in the crook of his neck. Tonight really was nice. Just the two of them in the grass, enjoying each other's warmth while it lasted. Heh… a welcome moment of peace, as they gazed above.

Nothing could break this night he had with him, nothing at all. Nothing could interrupt the warmth he felt in his beating heart for this man besides him. Nothing could get rid of the genuine smile he held on his lips, tranquil and filled with love. Nothing could stop his eyes growing heavier with each passing moment, not caring that they were still outside, drifting further into sleep as he pressed closer to Vincent-

"DAD PUT THE KID DOWN-"

"You can't stop me!"

Ah.

The two sudden shouts shattered the silence, as far away as they were from them. Michael's eyes shot wide open as he recognized the voices in an instant, only to briefly shut again as he stifled a sigh. Now? It just had to be now?

He barely had to raise his head from the grass to see the scene below, at the bottom of the sloped hill. The three figures were barely outlined against the darkness, the silvery moonlight bathing them lightly.

God-fucking-damnit.

"Don't you dare throw them on the ground, William-"

"Well, they shouldn't have wandered outside!" The triumphant, maniacal voice rang through the open air, as the figure ran around in the grass, away from the other two close behind. Now that Michael squinted at the scene… he could also make out a fourth figure, small and bundled up, held aloft above the mechanical ears.

"Dad, I am getting the goddamn taser if you don't put them down gently!" The first voice snapped again, figure considerably smaller than the others, yet faster.

"Fuck you, Michael, you're grounded!" William showed no signs of complying, as usual, dodging around the tussocks of grass. How he managed to run so fast while stuck in such an old animatronic suit, Michael had no idea. He probably wasn't going to find out, anyways.

"I'm way over 18 at this point, old man!"

"I'm IMMORTAL, don't call me old-"

"So are we- don't you dare pick up that knife!" The third voice rang out, also from an animatronic suit. "This is why we can't have nice things, William-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP MILES!"

"Should we help?" Michael muttered, eyes still fixed on the scene below.

Vincent shook his head lightly, giving a chuckle. "No need, I don't think. They'll tire out. Hopefully."

"Dad, if you don't want to get shocked, then put the damn kid down-"

"Never!"

"William, just put the kid DOWN-"

"Are you sure?" Michael murmured.

"Best to not get in the way." Vincent gave an apologetic smile. "He'll give up eventually-"

Suddenly, his words were cut off by a guttural scream, one that would have made Michael shrivel up inside his skin if he hadn't heard it more than a couple of times at this point.

"You are the WORST son EVER!"

"Right back at you, DAD!"

William had finally stopped running, his figure collapsed in the grass, the kid safely out of his hands. The suit was sparking as he laid on the ground, Michael standing in front of him, the taser gripped tightly in his hand. Miles was backing away from his frozen figure, arms stiffly tucked around the small child.

"...Or that." Vincent muttered, propping himself up on his arms.

Michael's only response was a hefted sigh.

[fnaficsfordays]

Selfish.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4390

Warnings: Major character death, self-deprecating thoughts

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“Come on! I swear it’s better like this.”

“Sure it is. I have no idea how you manage to convince yourself that.”

“Aw, don’t you trust me?”

“With my life. Not with my food.”

“Well, they’re kind of the same thing-”

The flick of fingers against his head cut Michael off, chuckling at the small thunk. Scott’s eyes flashed with mingled exasperation and amusement. “They are not the same thing, and I’m not allowing you to put that much cheese on my pasta.”

“Your loss.” He nudged his shoulder as he closed the shredded cheese, glancing back at his own bowl. “You barely put any on your own.”

“Because I don’t need an overdose of cholesterol.” Scott took the bag from him, putting it back inside the fridge. “Now, come on. Let’s eat.”

“Fine, fine.” Michael glanced at the window, the first rays of early morning beginning to rise. “Hopefully the others will be back soon.”

“They’re cooking their own pasta when they do.” He snorted, setting down his bowl on the table in the living room. “Or Vincent will complain that food is for the weak, whatever that means.”

He shook his head fondly, joining him on the couch. His eyes flickered down to the remote next to their food. “Feeling up for watching something?”

“No thanks.” Scott sighed. He shifted closer, their shoulders pressing together. “I’m tired.”

“Better get some rest before tonight- you and Vincent, right?”

“That’s the schedule.” He took in a bite of pasta. “As long as you don’t stay up waiting for me to get back.”

“No dice.” Michael smirked, picking up his own bowl. “We both signed up for this.”

“Yeah.” His voice grew a bit softer. “We did.”

Warmth prickled in Michael’s chest, despite feeling a pang of loss hitting alongside it. Scott was the best partner he could wish for, no doubt about it. Really, it was the most natural move in their relationship, when the other two inhabitants of the house had started dating and conspired together to push him and Scott together. Michael wasn’t that oblivious to it, seeing the way Jeremy and Vincent would partner up and leave them on their own multiple times, the former stifling giggles and the latter giving a not-so-subtle wink. Michael would probably never admit that they had helped though, not if he could spare his pride.

Still…

He swallowed down a forkful of noodles to hide the doubt crossing over his mind. It was fine. Michael had long known why, as… unwelcome as it could be. He wouldn’t be selfish and keep pining for more. He loved Scott already, he truly did. And of course Scott loved him.

His heart could be happy like this. He would be happy like this.

Even if a small piece was still missing, still yearning for another-

Michael was just beginning to take another bite when something flashed bright from the kitchen. Eyes darting back, he could hear the buzzing of his phone- who was calling at this time?

He set down the bowl, darting back over. Scooping up the vibrating screen, the confusion on his face increased as he saw the number, swiping the ‘accept’ button.

“Jeremy?”

“Michael- I-” The male’s voice choked for a moment on something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Fuck- can you- where’s Scott? Are you at-”

“We’re at home. What- did something happen? What’s-”

“Vincent, he’s- he got-” Michael’s heart dropped at his watery tone. “Just- both of you. C-Can you get to the pizzeria? I- now.”

He swallowed. “Yeah, just- give us a moment. It’ll be fine. We’ll get there soon.”

Jeremy was the first to hang up, the small beep echoing through the haunting silence of the kitchen. He whirled around to face Scott, already standing up. “Fuck.” He murmured.

“What happened?” He was by Michael’s side immediately. “Do we need to get to the pizzeria?”

“Yeah, it was Jeremy.” His stomach churned as he grabbed his jacket from the coathanger near the door. “Something’s happened to Vincent- it doesn’t sound good. He sounded like he was crying.”

Scott’s lips pressed together in a thin line, no doubt running through the same questions in his own mind as he opened the door. “The keys are in your jacket. Let’s go.”

Michael let him drive, sitting in shotgun as his fingers drummed on the car door. He was all the more grateful for his lover’s ability to work well under pressure- it definitely wouldn’t do any good for them to get in an accident, beyond whatever seemed to have happened at the pizzeria.

Turning the corner and onto the right street, he could feel the blood drain from his face. There was no mistaking the shrill cacophony of alarms rolling through the air, cars with flashing lights cutting through his vision- all surrounding that terrible building. Another one, similar yet different from the rest, was just peeling down the road. The bright red cross on the backside all but glared at them with its implications.

“God.” He whispered, staring at the distant ambulance. “You don’t think he’s…”

Scott didn’t look much better, knuckles pale from where they gripped the steering wheel. The trembling exhale that escaped his lips was fully audible, finally pulling up against the curb.

Michael was the first out as soon as the doors were unlocked, only to halt on the sidewalk. Police milled outside the establishment, yellow tape already being put up. Only a few glanced up at the newcomers, though none of them appeared to be surprised, writing on notepads or talking to each other.

There was only one person that stood frozen in the parking lot, wearing a completely different uniform, stained hands clutching a signature purple cap.

A low, keening wail escaped Jeremy’s throat, sending a terrible shiver down Michael’s spine. Tears dripped down his cheeks, tracing down his blood-stained shirt. His eyes stared glassily at the road that the ambulance had disappeared down, fractured emotions shining inside.

“Vincent.” He choked out, words grating together so uncharacteristically. “Vincent-”

“Come on.” Scott murmured besides him. “We have to make sure he’s okay.”

Michael gave a small nod, following his partner over. Truth be told, Michael only felt a few moments away from throwing up himself, the sirens blaring in the distance, blue and red swimming around in the early morning. But as more police cars pulled up around the establishment, he forced himself to take in a long breath.

“Hey. Jeremy. Come on.” Scott murmured, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “It’ll be fine. It’s going to be alright.”

“He’s not going to make it-” The faithless longing in his voice nearly made something splinter in Michael too. “S-Scott, he won’t- he already-”

“It’s okay.” He glanced back at Michael, eyes flickering with light relief as he stood on the other side of their friend. “It’ll be okay.”

A small cough broke through their moment, a police officer standing apprehensively in front of them.

Great, Michael thought wearily. Formalities for a broken heart.

----------

Such formalities hadn’t ended for a while.

Just minutes after having been questioned about their relations to Vincent and the pizzeria- and the call had come in that his heart stopped beating on the ride to the hospital.

Michael felt numb, and Jeremy looked like he had flatlined with him. He still seemed only moments from collapsing in his own chair the day after, light brown curls of hair shivering with each sob that wracked his body as they reviewed over the salvaged camera footage. Michael was barely able to watch the recording himself, seeing the way Foxy hadn’t turned off even as it hit 6 A.M.- and then watching Vincent shove Jeremy out of the way of his hook, taking that silver claw right to the chest before falling to the floor, crimson already gushing from the wound-

...Thank god for Scott holding them together. They’d never be able to do this on their own.

Especially when it came down to what was happening right now.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll take it up for further discussion. If they’re already willing… then… When would the dates be? No, but we’re in the process of setting up a funeral right now…”

Michael rubbed his eyes from where he sat in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. Scott paced up and down the living room carpet, blonde hair even more unkempt than usual, gripping the phone to his ear. In the week after Vincent’s death, the house had been blithely quiet. Jeremy barely spent a moment outside his formerly-shared room anymore, eyes puffy and dark the few times he came out. Michael was tempted to do the same, yet he managed to push himself out of bed each morning. For Scott, facilitating every interaction the trio had with an official.

But even in their shared room, murmuring small ‘good nights’ to one another, he could barely fall asleep with his arms around him.

Is this a joke?

The mental question sat so bitterly on his tongue. Because it had to be. Had to be about the way fate wrapped cruel chains around his heart and tugged it two ways that couldn’t align. Not in the life he’d decided upon.

And now they never would.

Michael thought he’d chosen a while ago- he tried his best, he truly did. Scott was more than he ever deserved, and so he held on as much as possible. It was easy in the beginning. He didn’t want to be selfish. He settled for having most of his desires fulfilled, for knowing that he could be happy like this.

And yet fate didn’t seem to think that it was enough, and decided to kill any hope left, any chance of letting him feel whole.

Decided to kill Vincent.

“Are you okay?” The soft words sounded next to his ear, Scott placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Michael stared blankly at him for a moment, before giving a sigh.

“How do you think Jeremy will react?” He swallowed. “Are we really going through with… going to court?”

Scott gave a heavy nod. “It’s what… It’s what Vincent would have wanted. We can do it for him.”

“Yeah.” The response was so empty, Michael sinking back into his thoughts as he looked at his lover- his careful, collected, should-have-been-enough lover. “I guess we can.”

But I can’t do anything about what I still feel for him.

----------

At least the hearings went smoothly.

Freddy Fazbear’s was finally closing down. William Afton would be serving a life sentence. The animatronics were going to get destroyed. And now they could-

…

No. There was no getting over it, not yet.

Not when the smooth white stone was staring them all in the face, fading streaks of orange light crossing over the engraved name.

Michael’s fingers felt petrified as he set the flowers down on the packed dirt with Scott, biting his lip so hard he could taste the blood. Jeremy was kneeling in the grass, hugging his sides. He’d brought along the same purple cap, smears of blood mostly washed out yet still noticeable in their stiff hue.

No words, not right now. It went as an unspoken agreement. There was nothing that would be right to say.

Michael knew that even more than the other two besides him. He hated it.

After a long moment in the fading day, the silence only punctuated by Jeremy’s ragged breathing, Michael turned around, casting a final look at the gravestone. The journey back to the car was short, leaning against the door once he was inside, eyes trailing towards the black gates next to it. As much as his heart wanted to whisper for him to stay, stay longer than any of the others… no. There was no way he deserved that, most definitely not beyond Jeremy. Beyond the one that Vincent had actually loved, someone that had seen the extent of his selflessness to his final breath.

Selfless. Michael would never compare, not when he still yearned for more. Vincent was just a friend, all the way to the end. He could push past whatever emotions screamed otherwise, and- and do this. Until…

…

Until he died too? Until the grief and the guilt became too much?

Someone slid into the driver’s seat besides him. Scott, eyes creased in worry and mourning. Michael instinctively slid his hand around his, intertwining their fingers together.

“He’s still up there.” He sighed, free hand gripping the steering wheel. “I hope it won’t be for much longer. It’s getting dark.”

He gave a small nod, trying to focus on the feeling of them holding hands. It was the only thing keeping him from completely breaking, spilling out- he didn’t even know what he would spill out at that point. Everything? Nothing?

Would it have helped to say something before it came to death, something about the way Michael’s heart clenched a little at seeing Vincent with Jeremy? How it only took a few days to realize how it felt the same as it did for Scott- and never separately?

...Perhaps.

But it was too late to dream of those bridges ever being fully built, when the structures were burning before his eyes and his eyes only.

----------

Michael stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, alone for once. Scott was out on a grocery run with Jeremy- trying to get his spirits up. He certainly wouldn’t have been up for doing so on his own- neither Scott nor Michael were blind. Both were still fully awake whenever he trudged back into the house alone, face gaunt from another visit to the graveyard. It did nothing to soothe Michael’s harbored feelings.

The thing is, Michael truly would have been satisfied before Vincent died.

He wasn’t a stranger to the saying that if you loved something, you would be willing to let it go. Some days were harder than others, but if there was at least one good thing that the night shift resulted in, it was flexible but unyielding trust and reliability. Trust in the others that they would come home safely or try their best. Trust that things would work out in the end, both individually and together. Trust that they could tell each other anything, when the next shift could so easily result in them no longer being able to.

Funny, how he was the only one that didn’t deserve that trust.

Still, Michael had felt alright, knowing that Vincent was happy. Scott was happy. As much as he wanted his relationship with each to one day be equal… he could accept the current situation. Longing still murmured its sentiments from time to time that made his resolve waver, but it was never for too long. He could find happiness like this.

Could.

He’d chosen, but it still hadn’t been enough in the eyes of the rest of the world. Forcing him to choose by killing off one option, but then it backfired horribly when longing turned into bitter grief, and guilt into ruthless self-blame- and he’d laugh if it wasn’t real. If his desires weren’t real.

Vincent definitely would have, trying to lighten the mood for a moment instead of dealing with the seriousness so quickly. Scott definitely wouldn’t have, giving a worried frown before coaxing him into opening up further, offering comforting touches all the while.

Michael rolled over in the bed. Scott wasn’t Vincent, nor the other way around. Practically opposites- but he still managed to engrave them both into his soul, longing for the way both could make his heart swell. And maybe the differences were the reasons. Michael wanted to see blonde spikes of hair ruffled with a rare playfulness, Scott’s usually-stern expression caving so brightly in a way only he could make come to life. Michael wanted to see the gleam of silver irises uncharacteristically smooth over, Vincent’s voice lower into something calmer, something sweeter for him where it never had before.

Choose, the universe sneered at him. Choose because it’s the one thing you’ll never be able to do.

And the universe was right.

----------

But still he attempted to prove it wrong.

So Michael found himself in front of another room in the house, one he’d rarely been in- definitely not during the past month. He was alone again, too. Scott had found a new job in a nearby bank and was working a seven-hour shift, and Jeremy… was at the graveyard. Again.

The last thought made him gulp. It wasn’t right, what he was about to do. Not even remotely. Perhaps it would only add onto his self-deprecation in the future.

Yet he deserved to lose their trust a long time ago. Maybe this could speed up that process.

Opening the door, he was met with a stuffy, stale warmth. Empty dishes sat on top of the nightstand, as well as food wrappers. Michael stepped around stray pieces of clothing scattered across the floor. An old nightguard cap lay on top of the rumpled sheets on the bed, one pillow propped up against the other, wrinkled as if it’d been hugged all night long. The blinds over the windows were still shut, casting the room in dark shade except for the cracks of sunlight managing to squeeze through.

The few specks of brightness landed on top of the writing desk in the corner- the one area that seemed to retain some cleanliness. As he got closer though, his jaw clenched at what lay on top.

A stack of individual papers, each partially filled with words in Jeremy’s slightly messy scrawl. It wouldn’t have been too much… except for the tear stains wrinkling some, and the clear address he could see on top of each and every one.

Dear Vincent,

Michael couldn’t keep reading. He shouldn’t have kept on reading. Even though he had to. Fuck, he’d resigned himself to do this the moment he stepped into Jeremy’s room to get rid of the conflicting thoughts gnawing at his head- yet it seemed to press on even more, all but swallowing him whole as he tried to focus on the letters swimming beneath his blurring gaze.

I don’t know if think I can do this. I don’t know how. I need to leave this room but I can’t. It’s all I have left of you. Sometimes I go to your gravestone but I don’t think it’s better. You’re only there after being while dead. Here, you’ve made so many memories while being alive and it still feels that way. Or I try to, anyways.

I don’t know if writing this is any better. I don’t know if I care. It’s not like the others suggested it, but I just wanted to. Maybe it’ll make it worse, but I just want something else. Something that’s not empty. Something that’s y

Would you agree? No, if you were here then we would go out on a date somewhere. Do something. Probably something crazy since it’s you, but that’s fine I would want it. You always managed to find thrill in everything and I wanted to follow along a lot. Not every time, because sometimes it was a little terrifying. Not so much when it was with you. But you always said sorry just in case. You always Even when it wasn’t your fault.

And you said it right before everythi as your last word. You could have said anything. I love you? My name? Literally every anything else? But you said sorry. Sorry for saving me. Sorry for loving me knowing you would die. Don’t deny it. I could see it. You knew that was it. You said sorry for something that wasn’t your fault.

I wish this was your fault. Though it already i Not really. But maybe if it was then you would be able to wake up and apologize again. And maybe it would be okay. I don’t know anymore. You would make it okay. better.

Michael abruptly dropped the page, letting it fall back onto the desk. He furiously wiped away the tears starting to rise in his own eyes, cursing the wetness already trickling down his own cheeks.

“Fuck.” He choked out in the silence, breathing labored. “Fuck.”

He was such a fool. Such a grieving, lovesick, desperate fool. Why had he thought he would ever stand a chance? That seeing these words, seeing how horribly similar Jeremy’s emotions ran alongside his own, would ever help?

Trying to choose between Scott and Vincent hadn’t worked. Why would trying to focus on the one person that held love for the latter too work either? How was Michael supposed to help Jeremy if he couldn’t help himself?

He rushed out, just about ready to throw up. He was lucky he hadn’t left any evidence that he’d been inside- but part of him wished he did, maybe so Jeremy could get mad, maybe so he would yell everything that was wrong with his emotions in his face. Maybe it would help, maybe Jeremy would be able to release some pent-up frustration that he had to have been holding onto, maybe Michael would finally realize how much he’d fucked up- and stop. Stop feeling, stop thinking, stop everything.

But none of it happened, and as Michael watched Jeremy shuffle back into the house with barely a hello, exhausted of his own grief, the self-destructive thoughts melted away into an aching hollowness to match.

Sleeping in that bed alongside Scott that night had never felt so lonely before.

----------

“Should I?” He whispered, into the cool breeze sweeping around. “Should I tell them?”

Michael had avoided coming back for a long while. There was hardly a day that Jeremy didn’t come back- and he certainly didn’t want to tag alongside him, lest the feelings build up and his secrets come spilling out.

He swept his hair out of his face, heaving a sigh. “I wish I could just get over you.” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “I mean, I- I was kind of close at that point, you know? Not… really, but at least I could feel like it was fine, I was okay with only being with Scott, you were more than okay with Jeremy… it would have been fine. Things were fine, already. Maybe if I kept it up, just continued, maybe… maybe it would have died out. Maybe I would have actually settled. I always thought I did, but…

“Or it could have just been me that night.” He swallowed. “If it was me and Jeremy that night, I… I wouldn’t have done much differently, not when… it would have meant everything to you that he made it out alive. But then Scott wouldn’t- But he’d get over me, he deserves to get over me, find someone that would… someone that would actually settle, someone that wouldn’t have to keep a secret like this his whole life.

“I could… I could try to say something.” Michael bit his lip. “Maybe if… I-I don’t know. Scott wouldn’t… Well, we’ve had issues in the past and we always… talk, but- but this is different, it’s been… years. I don’t know. And Jeremy, it’d just… crush him. I can’t do that to him, not when he’s just beginning to find his feet again, just… beginning to get out of his shell. And those letters, they just…”

The memory of his handwriting made him involuntarily flinch. “...I can’t.”

But then they’d deserve to know, know what a horrible friend and partner he was, wouldn’t they?

“Over a month and I still can’t make up my mind.” He took in a shaky breath. “Am I that pathetic?”

No response except the unwavering wind. Heaving himself up, he walked back towards his car, starting up the engine and beginning to drive away. Perhaps, though…

Perhaps Michael could try.

Trying was what the others deserved- Scott had tried to return their life to normal, Jeremy had tried to get out of his grief. Michael could try too, couldn’t he?

If only the answer to that question was the one he wanted to hear.

Michael finally pulled up in the driveway, stepping out and towards the house. He opened the door, only to stiffen the moment he was inside. Two voices echoed around from the nearby hallway.

“Jeremy, please- it’s going to be fine-”

“I can’t keep on- I keep on thinking he’s there and-”

Michael’s stomach clenched as he unfroze, walking towards the corridor. All the thoughts that had been circling around his mind dissipated as he saw them. Jeremy, sitting with his knees to his chest on the carpeted floor, leaning against the wall. His face was wet with tears once more, trembling with each sob that escaped him. Scott knelt besides him, anxiety etched into his face, still wearing the button-up shirt from his job. He must have just gotten home.

Scott’s eyes flicked up to Michael- and guilt wormed in his stomach at the way his partner’s shoulders deflated with relief. With a small gesture, Scott pointed towards the kitchen, mouthing water. After a moment, he gave a nod, ducking back around, Jeremy’s cries still ringing through his ears.

He grabbed an empty glass, staring at the water as it flowed into the cup. For a second there, Michael thought he’d chosen correctly.

But seeing the two of them, still so broken and he knew they were broken, yet he still believed that he could try and say something that would break them further-

Michael shut off the faucet, reaching a hand up to his own face and wiping away the moisture welling up. So many wrong choices that they didn’t know. So many wrong desires.

Another one couldn’t hurt.

By the time he returned, handing the glass of water over to Scott, who promptly gave it to Jeremy, choking out small apologies while still sitting on the floor- he knew he would never tell them the truth. Jeremy wouldn’t have someone like him staining the memory of his lover. Scott wouldn’t be left feeling inadequate in their relationship when it was the other way around. And Vincent-

…

Michael could only hope that Vincent wasn’t gazing at him in too much disappointment, from wherever he resided.

The universe had always been cruel to those that loved too much.

[fnaficsfordays]

Surfacing Secrets

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4197

No warnings!

----------

He stared down at the scrap of paper, rereading the words over and over, feet lightly sinking into the sand with every step. The small bit of notebook paper was dimly lit by the sun slowly sinking into the waves far away, the sound of them lapping against the shore barely picked up by his ears.

“Do you think he’ll be ready to see us?” The small question piped up from the person beside him, fingers fidgeting slightly as they stared at the small hut ahead of them, outline dark against the fading light.

“He sent me this location, I’m pretty sure he would be.” Scott murmured. “How and why he decided to let us know now I’m not so sure about… but I think we’ll find out, one way or another.”

Jeremy bit his lip. “Five years is kind of a long time, though.”

“It is.” He shrugged. “But there could be basically any reason behind his disappearance. We still don’t know what happened to Vincent, either.”

“Yeah… him too.” He muttered. “I always thought he’d… killed him, and that’s why they both disappeared at the same time… but that’s clearly not the case now.”

“Well, we’ll see in a few moments.” The paper was slipped back into his pocket, and he let out a breath. “It’s definitely… a nice place, at the very least.”

Jeremy gave a small nod. Then, suddenly, his head snapped up for a moment, eyes flickering to the side. “Wait… is that him?”

Scott followed his gaze, over to a figure stepping out from behind the small building. A bucket was held in one of their hands, being set down in the wet sand, right against the lapping waves. He couldn’t see much of them from that far away, but it was definitely someone. “Let’s go see.”

His pace quickened as he grew nearer and nearer, watching them crouch down in the sand, back turned as they put items in the bucket, not seeming to notice his and Jeremy’s approach.

Scott only halted when he was close enough to hear the small clinking of whatever was in the bucket, swallowing slightly. “Michael?”

They paused for a moment, hands freezing above the sand. Then, they started to stand up, picking up the bucket with a hand as they started to turn around, making him stifle a gasp.

It was him. It was definitely Michael, that much was obvious, but…

Five years really had made a difference, hadn’t they.

Sure, Scott knew he’d only ever seen him at work, and in such a distasteful environment… but this looked nothing like the easily-irritated, snappy, flinchy person from the pizzeria. His brown hair was a bit longer, and messier, partially falling over his forehead. He had on a slightly-wrinkled blue t-shirt, rolled-up shorts and bare feet sinking into the sand. But most of all… he couldn’t get over the expression on his face. It had a mild surprise, but was still more peaceful than Scott had ever seen working on the night shift. So… uncharacteristically him.

“Scott and Jeremy? Didn’t think you’d be over this early.” Even his voice, it was so calm and easy-going. “What time is it?”

“...About half past six.” He tried to keep his voice even. “I see you’ve… been busy.”

He gave a slight chuckle. “Nah, I wouldn’t really say busy… but I guess I have been… preoccupied, a bit.”

“What were you collecting?” Jeremy piped up, his question cutting through the growing tension. “Something from the sand?”

“Oh yeah, nothing much. Just a couple of seashells, for… a little something, inside.” Michael shook the bucket slightly, the shells inside clicking against each other. “In fact, we should probably be going in there now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Scott nodded, following him up the shore. Even the way he moved was different, leaning side to side with each step through the sand. He could hear a faint tune being hummed underneath his breath as they neared the house.

Did he actually build this place, too? He would be surprised, but… things had changed. So much had clearly changed ever since he’d disappeared.

Michael opened the door, scuffing his feet on the mat in front of it. “Come on in, just go ahead and make yourselves comfy here. There should be some tea out in the kitchen, if you’re interested.”

“Thank you.” He still felt a bit… nervous, following him inside. For just how much had changed, Scott wasn’t quite sure yet.

They walked into another room, and indeed, there was a kettle sitting on the table, along with a small stack of cups. Michael set down the bucket on a nearby countertop, turning on a faucet and washing his hands.

“Go ahead and pour yourself however much you want, we can talk more in a few moments.” He twisted the faucet off, glancing back at them. “Although, I’ll warn you, there’s going to be a bit more that’ll probably… surprise you, at least.”

“This whole thing has been quite a surprise, really.” Scott murmured, taking a seat at the table. “A lot has happened, I think whatever else is to come will be alright.”

“Y-yeah, that.” Jeremy mumbled, sitting down next to him.

“...If you guys say so.” Michael bit his lip lightly, eyes flickering at the set of stairs next to the kitchen. “But I’d still brace myself-”

Suddenly, a loud whirring could be heard, coming from somewhere above them. Then, something crackled to life, a pleasant yet rather loud tune playing from a machine, slightly fuzzy with static.

Scott instinctively glanced upwards, eyebrows knitting in confusion. But Michael just rolled his eyes, a slight smile starting to tug at his mouth as he started to walk towards the staircase.

“Of course.” He sighed, his words filled with exasperation- but also a touch of fondness? “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, what is it-”

“Nothing really to worry about. Just stay here, I’ll be back down in a few minutes. Enjoy the tea.” He was already on the first step, shaking his head slightly as he made his way up, the small smile still on his face.

Scott blinked, glancing at Jeremy for a moment. “What do you think-?”

“I don’t really know…” He slowly shrugged, reaching for a cup. “I guess we just do as he says…?”

“I suppose.” He got one as well, pouring out half a cup of the tea from the kettle. There was a warm whiff of cinnamon and lavender in the liquid, as well as a hint of butter. Slightly odd for a tea, yet the smell was quite relaxing. Scott took a sip, the warm flavors sinking into his tongue. It was like a very light, lemony liquid butterscotch, with a slight spice. Strange… but it was perfectly welcome in his mouth.

“It’s not that bad.” He murmured, looking at the glazed orange liquid.

“Yeah… I never really thought of him as a tea person before.” Jeremy murmured.

“Neither did I.” He glanced at the staircase again. “But I suppose if he’s really been living here for five years…”

“I guess if I knew a place like this existed back then, I would have left too.” He bit his lip. “But I still wonder what he’s been doing.”

“I suppose we could find out a bit.” Scott started to stand up from his chair, his cup still in hand. “He doesn’t seem like he would mind very much, as long as we don’t follow him upstairs.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why not?” He started to walk through another doorway, next to the staircase. “Oh… Jeremy, come look at this.”

“What?” He could hear a chair scraping against the floor slightly, footsteps following him. “Woah, that’s…”

His sentence trailed off as they both looked down at the table in the center of the room. It seemed to be wood, but the top was a mosaic of assorted shells and smooth pebbles, filled with  bright colors. It didn’t seem to be quite finished, as the bottom right region was still barren, with a small pile of shells and rocks sitting, unplaced, on the finished area. But it was still… quite beautiful. Beautiful was really the perfect word to describe it.

Looking around the room, Scott could see other pieces of “art”, some similar, some not so much. A series of similar-shaped seashells, nesting within each other. A spiralling series of smooth grey rocks, shining like silver in the fading sunlight coming through the window. A thin string hanging from the ceiling, filled with small shells and bells, glinting in the light.

He walked over to the small string, taking another sip from his cup. With a hand, he ran his fingers through the assorted objects, the bells gently ringing through the air. He could feel whatever nervous energy he’d had coming here fading away with their soft noise, letting out a deep breath. Michael really had changed. Changed… for the better.

“I guess this is what he’s been busy with?” Jeremy’s small question brought him back slightly, turning around to look at him.

“I… suppose it is.” Scott said. He started to walk back towards the kitchen, setting his cup down on the table. He was just about to pull out his chair when he heard voices from above.

“-the radio back in there when we’re done, okay?” That was Michael, still with the same half exasperated, half amused voice.

A quieter, unintelligible voice came after his words, Scott glancing at the staircase as he heard it. Who-

“I do know. But not when they’re already here.” Michael retorted, aimed towards the unknown person. His voice was growing nearer, floating down the stairs.

A laugh followed his sentence, one that made him stiffen as he heard it. The touch of madness in it. The carefree airiness. The cynical amusement.

He knew that laugh.

Jeremy glanced at him, the shocked recognition in his eyes too. “Am- am I just hearing things or does- does that sound like-”

“It does.” Scott kept his eyes fixed on the staircase. “I don’t know if I’ll quite believe it until I see it, but…”

It wasn’t the exact same laugh, by any means. Definitely changed too… but he couldn’t imagine anyone else being behind it. His mind was holding its breath, half-coherent questions starting to fill his head as he waited for Michael to come down the stairs.

He finally did, biting his lip as he glanced between him and Jeremy, each step more apprehensive than the last. But Scott paid no attention to any of it, as he stared at the person behind him.

It was. He could see him, walking down the stairs, that deep, purple hue, that sharp, gleaming grin, those stark silver eyes…

It really was him.

But… he’d changed too, as Scott watched him near the bottom of the staircase. Decked out in a loose white buttoned shirt, sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets. He’d never seen anything but a purple uniform on him, and seeing any other color, even after so long, was… jarring, to say the least.

“You’ve changed.” It was a simple statement, one he was barely aware of saying. But it was… the truth. In every single way, as Scott watched him pause, he knew it was the truth.

“So have you.” Vincent shrugged, pulling out one of the other chairs, sitting down in front of him and Jeremy. “No longer hoisting around that phone mask, Scotty-boy?”

The familiar annoying nickname rang through his head, and he shook his head for a moment. “I still do. But… not today.”

Could he ask the question? Should he ask the question? Michael hadn’t been lying when he’d said there would be a surprise, but dear god, he hadn’t been prepared for this.

Michael stayed still for a moment, still standing. His eyes were unreadable, eyes unfocused as Scott waited.

“Michael?” He said cautiously. “Are you… going to sit down?”

He looked over at him, but didn’t respond. He opened his mouth for a moment, before closing it. “I…”

“Ah, just go ahead and take a moment, Mike.” Vincent’s easygoing voice cut through the tension. “It’ll be good to just catch up with ‘em for a moment.”

Despite the familiarity of his words, Scott could sense a slight undertone in them. An unknown emotion, one he didn’t quite understand. But Michael gave a slight nod, backing away silently.

Just what’s going on between them?

“So.” Vincent slowly turned around to face them, a lazy grin on his face. “Like the tea?”

“It’s… good.” Scott could feel Jeremy glance at him for a moment as he spoke. “It feels like it’s part tea, part hot cocoa.”

He shrugged. “Guess you’re not wrong, it was never really supposed to be a traditional tea. Something I put together one day, and we just rolled with it.”

“What exactly do you even do out here, though?” Jeremy asked. “I mean… do you have jobs or anything?”

“Eh, not quite.” He chuckled. “Not that we really need it. We’ve got shelter, we’ve got food we can get right here, and we’ve-” He suddenly cut himself off, freezing slightly.

“And what?”

“...Nah, nothing.” Vincent waved it off, eye flickering off to the side for a moment. “I mean, sometimes we do just send off some fish to the market for a couple dollars, but that’s just to buy butter and milk and stuff like that.”

“Huh.” Jeremy murmured. “I guess that’s just the dream after being at the pizzeria for so long.”

“Absolutely.” He smirked. “A place with absolutely no animatronics or pizza, where nighttime doesn’t mean absolute doom.”

“Simple.”

“Yeah, I really don’t think I’ll ever go back. And actually, speaking of the pizzeria… what happened to it?”

“Well… after both of you disappeared, things quickly just fell apart. The boss’ decision to try and investigate your disappearance kind of backfired, because then the police started to find out about all the… murders…”

“Oh, did they now?”

“Yeah… the place shut down in less than a month, and he’s serving a lifetime sentence.”

“Good riddance. What happened to you guys, though?”

“Well… we got declared innocent pretty easily, and actually got quite a lot of insurance money from the whole ordeal after testifying as witnesses. And thanks to that, we were able to actually find jobs. I’ve been actually working in a restaurant as an assistant chef for… over a year now, and Scott’s actually teaching at a middle school.”

“Well, would you look at that. We all got to somewhere better, in the end.”

“Yeah… I guess we all did. Scott?”

He blinked for a moment. “What?”

“Cat got your tongue or something? Been pretty quiet for a while.” Vincent leaned back in his chair, grinning.

“I just… there’s been a question on my mind for a while, ever since… since Michael sent the letter.” He stared at the tea kettle.

“Well, then say it.” He chuckled. “It’s the whole reason we decided to send our location after so long, anyways.”

“Well, if you put it that way…” Scott took in a deep breath. “Just why did you and him decide to leave and disappear?”

Vincent didn’t respond for a moment, reaching for a cup and the kettle. The grin on his face had faded as he began to pour himself a cup, eyes fixed on the stream of tea.

“You’re probably expecting this, but it is a bit of a complicated explanation.” He set the kettle back down, taking a long sip. “I mean, running away with him in the end was… it was easy, but, uh… the full reasons behind it… not easy to explain.”

“That’s… another thing, too.” Scott muttered.

“What is?”

“I… okay, if I’m being honest… I honestly thought you two despised each other.”

Vincent’s eyes flickered for a moment, staring at his tea cup as he spoke. “We know.”

“What do you mean-”

“Again, uh… it’s complicated.” He set down his cup, laying out his hands on the table. “And we used to. At least, he used to hate me.” A slight smirk appeared on his face, shaking his head slightly. “But that changed.”

“Really?” Scott raised an eyebrow. “Up until you disappeared, you seemed like you still hated each other. And I don’t even know how you even came to agree to move into a house together-”

“Like I said, things changed.” He rubbed his neck slightly, giving an awkward chuckle. “But by the time we decided to leave, we… definitely didn’t hate each other.”

“That- I still don’t get-”

“Wait.” Jeremy piped up, staring at the table. “Hold on, Vincent… your… hand…”

Scott could see him freeze slightly. “What about it?”

“The… the ring…”

Ring?

He followed Jeremy’s gaze to his hand, and he saw it. Right on his left hand, on his ring finger… was a gleaming silver ring. Small purple and blue gemstones dotted the band, with a slightly larger diamond sitting in the center.

“You’re…” Scott couldn’t even bring himself to finish that sentence, trailing off as another question popped into his head. “But who did-”

Wait.

Oh.

Oh.

He and Michael…

“Y-you and Michael…”

“Yeah.”

“You got… you got marri-”

“Yeah.”

Vincent was staring at the table, an uncharacteristically neutral expression on his face. The tea lay forgotten in the silence, Scott staring at him as he tried to process the information.

“How long?” Jeremy’s small question woke him up slightly, nervous and apprehensive.

“Ever since we left.”

“So… this is the reason.”

“Mostly.”

“When did it all start?”

“Nearly eight years ago, at this point.”

“...Wow.”

Scott shook his head slightly, a hand on his forehead. He could barely fathom all of this, he never even expected to see Vincent here in the first place…

“You’re wondering why we kept it a secret, right?”

He blinked for a moment, vision refocusing to see him looking at him, with the same neutral expression. “...Yeah, I kind of am. And also wondering… how.”

Vincent hefted a sigh. “It really just… kind of started, you know? I suppose we just became a bit more bearable to each other, with each night… I probably got feelings sooner than he did, but eventually… it just kind of happened.”

“But why… keep up the act of hating each other?”

He gave a slightly empty chuckle. “Come on, Scott. With our boss? If he ever found out… he’d use it to his advantage. He’d use it against us, in one way or another… and we didn’t need another way to die. Even if we rarely ever saw him in person and it was mostly just the four of us… we couldn’t risk it getting out. And as time went on… well, it just gave us more reason to keep it just between the two of us.

“And as for moving out way out here… it wasn’t exactly like we had anywhere to go. I’ve never had a clue of where my ‘family’ is, and his… wouldn’t be the most accepting.” He glanced at the side, clasping his hands together. “I’d really rather just… have this life, anyways. Peace and quiet… with him.”

Scott blinked. What could he even say after that? It was… it was really the truth, after all. He was right.

“Is it too late to say congratulations?”

It sounded dumb even before he said it, but a smile tugged at the corner of Vincent’s mouth. “You’re just learning all of this now, so no.”

“Then… congratulations for both of you.”

“S-same here… that really must have been hard.”

He chuckled. “No need to get sappy out of nowhere. It’s been five years since then.”

“You’ve still kept this to yourselves for eight years.” Jeremy murmured. “But… life’s treated the two of you well, huh?”

“It is now, yeah.” He sighed. “Seems to have worked out for you guys too.”

Everything’s worked itself out in the end...

It really hadn’t been something he’d ever thought about happening, all those years ago. All he’d ever been concerned about was surviving the night. Dreams of finding something larger, something better, had never been part of him. But then, it’d shut down. Jeremy had found a better job, he himself had found a better job, they’d gotten better lives… and now he knew that these two had as well.

Suddenly, Vincent started to stand up from his chair, glancing out the window besides them. “Well, it looks like that was much more than just a moment of catching up. The sun’s already gone down.”

“It has?” Scott glanced over, seeing that he was right. The last streaks of orange and pink sky were fading away under the waves, and the faintest pinpricks of stars were appearing above.

“Might as well bring back Michael and start making dinner. Good thing we always keep more than enough for ourselves in the freezer.” He was already moving towards the doorway. “I’ll find him and we can start.”

“Really?” Scott blinked. “I mean, you don’t have to-”

“Come on, Scott. No need to try and be polite. Old time’s sake, y’know?” Vincent smirked. “You’ve already had some tea, the rest of my cooking’s not gonna kill you. Promise. Hell, if Jeremy’s workin’ at a restaurant, he can pitch in if he’d like.”

“A bit of dinner would be nice.” Jeremy glanced at him, a light grin on his face. “It’s a Friday night too, you’ll have the whole weekend off.”

“I…” He sighed. “Alright, I’ll stay for dinner.”

“One more night together, huh?” Vincent called over his shoulder, walking up the stairs.

“After five whole years.” He shook his head slightly, standing up as well. “Another night shift.”

He glanced at Jeremy, still staring at the stairs. “I really would have never guessed… all of that.” He whispered.

“Me neither.” Scott murmured. “Settling down never seemed to be something  either of them would do, let alone with each other… but I guess a lot went on behind the scenes.”

“Understatement.” He chuckled nervously. “I never would have thought of them… getting together, but… here we are, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Scott said, hearing footsteps nearing down the staircase. Michael appeared, face still apprehensive as he glanced between the two of them.

“Enough catching up, huh?” His voice was slightly strained, movements stiff as he got closer to the kitchen.

“Just enough.” Scott said calmly. “So… dinner?”

“Yeah, I’ve got an idea in mind already.” He strode over to the fridge, pulling it open. “Nothing too much, it’s a bit late to go out and dig out the potatoes… but there are still some leftover radishes from yesterday.”

“You’ve got a vegetable garden out here?” Jeremy glanced out the window. “Where?”

“Further up, back inside the forest a bit. You’d be surprised at how well sandy soil is for growing plants.” He gave a slight chuckle, reaching inside and glancing around. “Mostly good for spring and summer, but we’ve always got enough for when the cold hits.”

“Vincent’s getting the fish?”

“Yeah, he’s upstairs. If you want, you can go ahead and pick some out with him, if you’d like. Should be in the door to the immediate right.”

“Sure!”

Scott paid little attention to their conversation though, as Michael’s hand was still resting on the fridge handle. He could see the glint of a silver ring on it too, identical to the one on Vincent’s hand from earlier. How did he not notice it before?

“Michael?” He said cautiously.

“Yeah?” His gaze flickered over to him as he closed the fridge. “Need something?”

“No, just…” He nodded towards his hand. “Congratulations.”

A flash of confusion went through his eyes for a moment as he followed his eyes, blinking. “Oh… right. He told you, huh?”

“He told us everything.” Scott admitted. “Why you ran away together, why you kept it a secret… It was quite the shock, but I’m- we’re still happy for you two.”

Michael sighed. “That’s… good. I didn’t really ever know if we’d… ever tell anyone, but… it is nice.”

“Yeah.” Scott gave a small shrug. “I don’t blame either of you for wanting a peaceful life, after all that’s happened.”

He nodded slowly, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s go ahead and make some dinner now. How much do you know about cooking?”

“...Probably the least, out of all of us.” He bit his lip. “I haven’t really ever cooked with raw ingredients-”

“Well, then time to learn.” Michael chuckled, pulling out a drawer. “Can you at least peel these?”

“Uh…”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “This is going to be a long dinner.”

“I’m not a health teacher, Schmidt. I can’t do everything.” Scott muttered, cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

“Oh, come on. Nothing from Jeremy’s rubbed off on you?” He turned to see Vincent coming downstairs, a bucket in his hand.

“No, it hasn’t.” Jeremy giggled, following him.

“Okay, look-”

And as the moon rose into the sky, the small house found itself to be an unusually bright and energetic place of laughter and chatter, the quiet peace disrupted after five years in the most joyful way possible.

[fnaficsfordays]

Time stands in two places.

Yes I know this place has been dead for the past few months. I swear I’ll be able to revive it now that A Change of Heart is done.

The poem that this fic is based on can be found in my AO3 too.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2401

----------

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“I don’t.”

“Fair.”

Time stands in two places, but never still

Vincent muttered the last word under his breath, wincing as he wiped the corner of his mouth on his sleeve. The eyes of the person sitting before him darted down to the smear of scarlet it left behind, half-hearted glare not softening. Part of Vincent was tempted to give a sardonic smile in return, but the thought was rapidly dismissed. Fire wasn’t always meant to be fought with fire.

Still, you’ll see me wanting to sit at ease

The not-so-stranger’s fingers flicked a clean napkin over, tan skin callused yet still smooth in the saturated lighting. With a small huff of breath, they sat back, watching with the same expression as he picked it up.

“I can’t say I’m too surprised, though.”

“Hey.” He frowned, wiping at his face. “I didn’t initiate it. They were the ones getting hammered as fuck. I didn’t do shit.”

Even as they walk away

“Didn’t say that you had to start it.” They retorted. A glass rose to their lips, a long gulp before continuing. “I don’t know why out of all the places to get a drink, you’d choose here.”

From each other,

“Could say the same to you.”

From me,

A look. “I’m not the one still whispered about through the whole town. It’s a small place, you know.”

Standing alone despite my desire

“Believe me, I know.” Vincent sighed, rubbing his sore jaw. “The manager’s nice enough, though.”

“Really?”

“What, surprised at finding a decent human being around here?”

A brief moment of silence. “No,” Michael conceded, “Just that you’d recognize it.”

Bitter.

To make it anything but.

He sighed, downing the remains of his own glass. There was no point in responding, and the ache from that brief scuffle in the bar would only get worse. Vincent was arguably lucky enough to not have gotten kicked out himself before he realized that Michael was here. The decision to lay low on the drinks tonight paid off well enough.

Or, well, maybe it didn’t.

Because, well, Michael.

Don’t you wish for the same,

“Why did you come back?” He asked. “And don’t just turn it around on me. I never left.”

“Never left the town? Or never left our-”

“Just answer the question.”

Michael’s lips thinned. “You don’t want to know that.”

Same as it had never been yet

“Except I do. I clearly do.” Vincent’s voice climbed slightly in frustration. “You know I don’t have any of your stuff anymore.”

“I know. I just…” Michael trailed off, gaze darkening as he set down his glass. “I didn’t expect you to still be here.”

We spin around, thinking it had?

“So what?” His voice wasn’t as harsh as he’d expected, but there was no point in trying if the energy wasn’t there. “You’re not the only one.”

Michael turned sharply, scowl returning to his face. “You’re really making this harder for both of us, you know that, right?”

Ah, the days when Vincent found it endearing.

Except he still did.

“When have I not made things more difficult.” He scoffed. “Did you come back for nostalgia’s sake? To see the broken down pizzeria?”

Had we so little that we treated it like so much

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Michael muttered. “Among other things…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He slid forward his empty glass, expression having died down to something more guarded. He kept his gaze firmly away from Vincent, pulling out his wallet. “I’ve had enough inside here. I’ll be outside.”

“Noted.”

Much more than we had before and now

The moment he was gone, Vincent shoved his face into his hands, a muffled groan slipping out from between his fingers. So this was what life had decided to make him trip over today, huh? A delightful reunion with his-

Former coworker? Friend? Ex?

…

All one and the same, when you were at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Good riddance.

And Michael had witnessed him getting into a one-sided bar fight- even when it wasn’t even a common occurence anymore. The fact that it was all the other party’s doing didn’t help either. Luck really decided that he could just shove it- shove it all the way to a terrible past Vincent had tried to leave behind.

Well. Then again, he hadn’t really tried. Not when that hell of a business had already shut down years ago. Vincent might as well just be dead, dead to everything else going on.

But Michael definitely hadn’t taken the same route.

We never turn around at the same time

After a long while, Vincent got up from his seat, leaving a few dollar bills behind. The buzz of noise behind him faded out as he approached the door, stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk of the parking lot.

The air was cool, the first hints of autumn crisp carried on the breeze. His violet ponytail fluttered in its wake, releasing a breath as his eyes traveled down the mostly empty area. His own car sat near the corner, like it had been for the past hour or so. The dark sky and curve of the half moon above made the time clear, cursing underneath his breath as he walked towards the ride.

Another car sat next to it that Vincent hadn’t seen when first arriving.

Sneaking glances and pauses of clarity

“So you’re still here.” He sighed, Michael’s gaze snapping up from where he was leaning against his own car. It was definitely in a better shape than his own, that was for sure.

“Pretty much.” He hummed, straightening up. Away from the intrusive lights of the bar, Vincent could see clearer how much he’d changed in all those years. Brown tousles of hair still framed his calm expression, cut short yet choppy. Dark green eyes stared impassively, jaw set behind tannish skin. Winking in the dim light was a small, silver and blue stud on his right ear.

Subtract everything but the piercing, and nothing changed.

But never could we backtrack,

“You’re staring.” Michael noted. Though nothing changed in his tone.

“Are you surprised?”

“Are you?”

...No. Vincent could never be. “You got a piercing,” is what he opted to say instead.

“Yeah.” His expression softened as he reached back to touch it, fingers curling around the gem. “I was planning on getting one in the other ear too, but I decided to go with just one right now and see how it does.”

And any loop only turns into a circle,

“Michael…” He narrowed his eyes. “Why did you actually come back? There’s no way it’s just the pizzeria.”

“If I knew you were still around?” A light shrug and wince. “...I probably wouldn’t have.”

“Then say I’m not. Say I’m fucking dead, put a bullet through my own head and I’m rotting in my apartment.” Vincent snorted. It wouldn’t be too far from the truth of his inner thoughts. “What’s next?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Then I’d be the only guy to stumble across your corpse.”

Wait, what?

“What?”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t lie when I said it was going to be a nostalgia trip. But the pizzeria… wasn’t going to be the first stop. After the bar, I was… going to head over to our old apartment.”

Spinning to no end and avail.

“...You weren’t.”

“Oh, yeah, I was.”

“I- But you- Why?!”

“I have the damn key right here!” He slipped out a small piece of metal from his pocket, the grooves in the brass held right between them. ”Stop fucking acting like I’m not standing right in front of you. Like I fucking forgot everything and like I was supposed to just move on and forget this place. Because, as much as I wanted to, it never happened. Everything happened.”

“Oh, yeah, and I had a cakewalk.” Vincent laughed sourly. “Don’t try to- do not do this to me. Don’t- if you go back to our- that apartment, I’m not coming with. I’m not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Fucking around like this! God, I just- Fuck. I should’ve stayed in that bar and got another glass.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m a piece of shit that can’t move on to save my life- can’t do anything to save my life- but I’m not doing this. Not with you. You are not about to damn make me remember all of that- everything we-”

“Are you sure you didn’t already get wasted? Are you even- what are you on about?” Michael stared at him. “There was literally nothing we did that was-”

Time stands in two places,

“There is everything we did, Michael! You said it yourself. Everything happened. And living there- living there without you, without any other options once the pizzeria crashed through and you left- I couldn’t forget any of it. We lived together. We lived together!” Vincent’s voice trembled with the hysteria starting to creep in. “We met while having the shittiest job ever, pooled that god-awful paycheck to make living situations easier- and then that wasn’t enough. And then we got so goddamn attached. Everything surrounding that apartment- the one place we could just live without checking every single door, not worrying about the power suddenly going out- became about us.”

Digited minute and hour

“I goddamn loved you, Michael. There is literally nothing else to it. I loved that little life we found together in that place- and when it started carrying over to the night shift because of you. Because it wasn’t being alone. Because there was a ‘we’, an ‘us’, something else.” He chuckled bitterly. “And the only lie I’ve told is the fact that it’s past tense. Nothing changed when you left, left for a goddamn life you did deserve except that then there was nothing new. All these old memories that I couldn’t let go of because it was us. I was so goddamn selfish that I missed having that god-awful job, just to have it with you again. Even when that faded away, I wasn’t here to leave. I wasn’t here to do anything. I was already dead, fucking dead as soon as you left and there was nothing else worth remembering.”

The body and the heart

Hefty silence settled between them, Vincent swallowing. With the rush of emotions gone and his vision clear once more, the parking lot felt so large, so choking in the midnight quiet. Turning around, he fished his car keys out, trying to calm his labored breathing. “Just- it doesn’t matter anymore, I’m just going-”

“You don’t get to spill all your feelings without letting me do the same.”

He froze at the cold steel in Michael’s voice.

“It was us, wasn’t it? We held that apartment together. We took the night shift. We fell in love.” The sigh echoed in the air. Then his voice hardened again. “But you don’t get to say that you’re the only one that felt dead.

“I tried to get somewhere better. It didn’t work out. I thought about reaching out, trying to connect with someone else. It didn’t happen. Now I’m here again. And I was going to head to our apartment. What does that say about me, huh?” A small thud of his hands against his jacket. “That I’ve moved on? That I’m living my best life? You think I left behind any of those memories when I set foot outside the apartment? That I don’t want them too?”

You and me

“You’re not… suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.” Vincent slowly turned around to face him. “Please don’t be.”

“And what if I am?” He stepped closer, voice no longer demanding. It simply hung in the air, expression calm and painfully softer. “Do we just run away? Stop thinking about each other? Act like this can’t be resolved? Like we can change any more than we’ve already tried?”

“It has been four years.” Oh, how his heart constricted at the proximity of their faces. “It has been everything.”

“There’s nothing saying it can’t be everything again.” Michael retorted, placing a hand on his chest, gently resting against his shirt. “There’s not a single thing, Vince.”

And the mind, an unsuccessful mediator

Their lips connected, and suddenly Vincent’s hands were grasping at the thin fabric of his shirt, fingers resting in the small of his back. He was dimly aware that he was pushing Michael back against the car door, only getting closer to the heat from his body. The rush it sent flooding through his veins was unparalleled, flooding his mind of every memory they used to have.

Running around in that pizzeria right before midnight hit, fiery taunts and yells echoing in the halls. Waving the housing contract in the air the moment the landlord was gone, right out of Michael’s reach. Getting pinned against the wall of the office during another scuffle, insults and laughter dying down at the growing flush in their cheeks. Stumbling back into the apartment after one particularly stressful payday, waving a sloshing bottle in the air that spilled more than just wine. Kissing Michael for the first time a few days later, now sober but in a haze no less powerful. Straddling him against the mattress regardless of their alcohol intake, hands trailing underneath shirts and teeth leaving marks on his pale neck and shoulders-

Fuck, Vincent missed this.

Who failed to halt the change.

Michael broke away with a gasp of air, and fuck if he didn’t miss that too. Vincent traced a hand around his cheekbone, breaths equally as shallow.

“Fuck.” He whispered, not letting go. “Holy fuck.”

Despite himself, Michael gave a breathy laugh. “This doesn’t happen often when you go here, does it?”

“I haven’t let myself dream of something like this for a while.” He shook his head slowly. “You really are the death of me.”

“Hey.” The sparkle in his eyes reignited the flame from before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he wanted to hear his lover’s words, Vincent would have kissed him again right then and there. “Sure seems like I can be the life of you too.”

Alright, that was it. Leaning forward, he slammed their lips back together again. Michael wanted feelings? Oh, he’d get them all tonight.

Repeat such forever more, and know it’ll always be the same.

[fnaficsfordays]

A Change of Heart

I probably should have posted this a while ago but screw it-

Only the prologue’s being posted here on tumblr but the full story will be found in the AO3 Link.

AO3 Link

----------

"Let's change it around to… green."

"...Ah."

"Doesn't work for you now, Scott?"

"No, but… this does."

"Oh, you phone-headed fucker-"

"Red."

"And the one color I didn't have!"

"Well, do you have it now, Mike?"

"No."

"Well, that works for me."

"Eh, it's nice but… I gotta switch it up a little."

"Oh no, after you, Bon."

"Hey, that works too!"

"Argh, y'all landlubbers done with switching us 'round?"

"Sure, why not."

"I don't have that either…"

Michael muttered the words underneath his breath as he reached for the deck, his hand growing fuller with each card that joined it. At last, he pulled out a yellow card, slapping it down on the pile. 15 cards. He was left with 15 cards.

"Don't act like that yet, Michael. The game's just started-"

"Yeah, it totally makes me feel better that we're ten seconds in and I've got 15 cards in my hand." He remarked, glaring at the phone-head. "You're only sitting at five, Scott."

“Anything could happen." Jeremy giggled, arms wrapped around the taller man’s torso, head resting against the red mask. “Don’t be a grump, Mike.”

"Hmmph."

"Y'all already need a drink or two? Looks like it's already getting heated." The chirp sounded from the doorway, Michael raising his eyes to look at the yellow head poking through, mechanical beak set in a slight smile.

"Eh, I'm all set, Chi." Vincent shrugged besides him, silver eyes sparkling with amusement. "Why don't you ask Michael?"

"...No. For now." He grumbled.

"Jeepers, now I remember why we don't play this game often." The hearty chuckle came from across the circle, a brown bear animatronic sitting crossed-legged on the floor. "With any luck, we'll be able to leave this nightshift with all of our limbs intact!"

"Arr, yee stay too hopeful, Freddy." Foxy shook his red ears as he placed a card down. "This ain't no scallywag's game, after all! Yee born in it, yee die with it."

"Well, don't come running to me when you change your mind." Chica giggled, walking away. "At least one of you always do!"

"It's all or nothing, sink or swim in here." Vincent smirked. "You might not die, but friendships definitely do."

"Oh, yay. That works." Michael muttered, placing down a card. "Now I'm only at 14. Just great."

"Come on, dude. Anything could happen." Vincent wrapped a purple-hued arm over his shoulder, flashing a grin. "And, hey, I'd be surprised if you didn't have something worthwhile in there by now."

He rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of his hand on his shoulder. They were in a game of uno, after all. Where only the strongest made it out alive.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm not risking anything." Scott slid forward a reverse, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry Scott," Bonnie flicked his violet ears as he snapped forward the same card, leaning back. "But you're gonna have to."

"Aw, that’s unfortunate.” Jeremy bit his lip. “Well, Vincent’s definitely right about friendships dying…”

The game went on, Michael narrowing his eyes with each card Scott added to the pile. His hand was growing awfully low, down to just a few cards. And even though he couldn't see his face, there was no way he didn't know as well.

His eyes darted to the clock for a split second, noting the time. Only 3:46, huh? Hopefully this single game wouldn't take much longer. Bonnie and Foxy had some repairs to get to, once they were done here, even if they'd decided to have some fun first.

Suddenly, he felt Vincent's arm around him tighten slightly. "Hey, Mike."

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"How much rage do you have right now?"

"...Still plenty."

His silver eyes flashed, grin widening. "Let's use it. Red."

Michael blinked as he stared at the card he'd just slid forward, those small 'plus fours' in the corners. Slowly, surely, a smile started to form on his lips as he became aware of a very, very similar card in his own hand.

"Michael-"

His hand shot forward as he slammed down another plus four, right on top of Vincent's.

"He’s done it!" Foxy cackled, waving his hook in the air. "Aw, yee scallywag-"

"Now Scott's gonna have to- aw, no!" Freddy shook his head. "That was just rude, Mike."

Michael leaned forward, a smirk on his face. "And as for the color… we'll keep it red."

"Oh, give me five right now." Vincent chuckled. He reached out an open hand, Michael meeting it with a solid high-five. He watched as Scott shook his head slightly.

"So… I have to draw eight."

"Your turn to have double digits, Scott." He gave a nonchalant shrug, leaning back towards Vincent.

"What, so you two are teaming now?" He snorted.

"You’ve got your boyfriend on your side, fuck off." Vincent gave a sharp grin, pulling Michael closer. He nearly dropped his cards in surprise, face beginning to warm up slightly. He was held right against his chest, Vincent's arm gently yet firmly wrapped around his torso.

Calm down, Michael. You've got a game to play. He took in a deep breath, fixing his eyes on his cards as the game went on. Why had he been so surprised by it? He'd been the one to start leaning back, he'd been perfectly fine with it- he was fine with this too, if he was being honest. Pull it back together.

In the end, it was Foxy that was able to set down his last card first, hook waving high in victory. "Ah, 'course ya landlubbers never stood a chance! Never underestimate the cunning of a pirate, eh?"

"Aw, c'mon!" Bonnie whined. "I only had two cards left."

"Good game, good game now." Freddy chuckled. "Well, time to get those repairs going."

"Works for me." Vincent's voice sounded behind Michael's ears, hand swiftly taking his own cards from his grasp. "I'll go ahead and put these back. I’ll help Foxy?"

Michael blinked at the gesture. "Y-Yeah, I'll- I'll work on Bonnie, I guess."

He tried to ignore his own stuttering as he pushed himself off of Vincent's lap, taking a deep breath as he followed Bonnie to the back of the stage. His heart was already slowing back down, yet his skin still tingled from where Vincent had held him.

Miles glanced around the dimly lit room, still as stone. Back pressed against the wall, ears not flickering in the slightest, limbs frozen in place.

He couldn't risk it. Any movement, whether the creak of the rotting wood or a few clicks of the gears, was sure to alert them to his presence. He couldn't be found this soon. The grimy lights flickered ever so slightly, Miles staying tense and stiff as he watched the blinking bulbs.

Could he win this time? He'd done it before, but it was always a challenge around them. Despite the tension in his tight locks and gears, his senses tingled with excitement at the thought. Seeking's just as fun as hiding, after all.

Where were they? All of them were nothing more but silent whispers when they moved- except for himself, of course. But even he'd gotten quite good at masking his presence through these games.

He had to be somewhat close, though. Whether that was somewhat on the way to winning or somewhat on the way to being found-

Suddenly, the lights above shut off completely, the room falling to complete darkness. But he didn't move, still only with his eyes darting around.

Was he found? Was someone else found? Who'd come by?

Then, all those questions got answered.

"Surprise!" A fox’s head swung down in front of his hiding spot, giggling with glee.

He joined in the laughter easily after a moment of shock, mechanical throat rumbling with amusement. "I thought I was close?"

"Nope!" Another voice joined in, chittery yet filled with the same joy. He started to get out from underneath the wood, shaking his long ears off from the splinters as he looked at the two. "Good, but not good enough, Miles!"

He rolled his eyes fondly. "Mangle just has such an advantage with seeking and hiding, though."

"And I use it!" Mangle swung back down in front of them, thin, ragged endoskeleton hanging low. They angled their ragged ears at the second flickering figure. "Chica always goes to the kitchen, though."

"Not always!" She protested, putting her hands on her hips. "This time I didn't."

"You were still in the room right next to it, silly bird!" Mangle giggled in their high-pitched, screeching voice. "I thought I would have found you before Balloony."

"You found him too? Who's left?" Miles asked eagerly, eyes glittering with energy as his gears clicked around.

"Only Foxy!" They giggled, head lowering further as they shook it. "The sly vulpine's got around again."

"Looked everywhere?" Chica chirped.

"Everywhere!" Mangle whined. "I was even looking in the thinner vents that only I’m able to get through."

"He's probably in plain sight, he likes that." Miles started to walk from the doorway, shaking away the cobwebs from his ears. "Or maybe flattening himself onto the wall, like you."

They gave a cackling laugh as they followed him through the doorway, clutching the ceiling with their wiry limbs. "I would have trod on him while exploring if that was the case!"

"Even then." Miles wasn't really able to smile, given his broken jaw, but he hoped it still showed through his eager words.

"Wait, Freddy's coming back!" Chica exclaimed.

"And he's… yes!" Mangle shrieked, scrambling on the ceiling to meet him. It would have been a terrifying sight had he not seen it before, but he was nothing if not euphoric at what they were racing towards. “You found Foxy!”

"A good fight, but one that had to end." The raspy voice echoed through the hallway, deep and gravely. "Found him wrapped inside a crumbling part of the bathroom."

"But we checked there!" Chica chirped indignantly.

"Not hard enough, yee cross-eyed stargazer!" Foxy's triumphant laugh followed her words, mechanical irises glittering with his victory. "My turn to seek now, eh?"

"So close." Miles chuckled, shaking his head. "If I'd been hidden just a bit more, I would have won!"

"But yee didn'!" He cackled, raising his ragged arms. "Fair be fair 'round here. Now it's my time!"

Freddy gave a low rumble. "Actually, Balloony said the night guard would be here soon. Best not to act rash now, eh?"

"They are?!" Mangle suddenly dropped from the ceiling, nearly bowling over Miles in their haste. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get going!"

"How about whoever scares them the most can become the seeker instead?" Chica turned towards Foxy, chirps jittery with excitement.

"Aw, yee scallywags are on!"

"I always terrify them the most, so I'm ready-"

"Don't speak too soon, Miles. We've got six hours, and then we'll see who's the winner!"

"I'm ready to seek out another thrill anytime soon!"

"Let's go, you silly birdies!"

Michael stared at the screen, hollowed eyes glancing at the flashing words. It was nothing more than a cascade of black and white in his blurry vision, hefting a slight sigh as he aimlessly clicked around, withered hands occasionally pressing against the keyboard. A yawn escaped his mouth, and he leaned back in his chair, eyes closing for a split second as the burning feeling in his eyeballs faded for a moment.

It was obviously more than just a second though, as Michael was suddenly being jolted back awake by the feeling of a few small tugs on the corner of his sleeve. Something scraped against the desk. He blinked open his rheumy irises for a moment, glancing at the small figure urging him up.

A little white and pink colored plastic bear was gripping the fabric of his shirt, blinking wide eyes up at him as his vision focused. The small chubby paws let go quickly as it hopped back onto the wood, nudging something closer to him.

Michael coughed slightly, pushing himself up as he looked at the small plastic plate in front of him. Two pieces of buttered toast sat on it, along with a folded slice of cold ham. As he watched, the small bear scuttled off and grabbed a coffee cup, wrapping both arms around it and carrying it over as well. Though, with the styrofoam cup being as tall as the little guy itself, it was having quite the struggle.

He gave a slight chuckle, grabbing the sweet-smelling drink from the bear with a bony arm. "Thanks, Helpy." He gave a slight smile, watching the pink ears of the miniature robot prick up in delight. "You're the one little dude I can trust around here, huh?"

Helpy didn't give any verbal response, but it clapped its plastic hands together as a grin appeared on its cheeks. Michael watched as it turned to look at the screen, moving to grip the computer mouse in its paws. It slowly moved it and clicked around with its little fingers, until it pointed at a certain site, ears twitching as it glanced back at him.

He swallowed down a bite of toast, gaze following its arm. He raised an eyebrow. "You think that'll help with the place?"

It gave a few rapid nods, flashing a little smile. Michael gave a small shrug. "You're probably right, buddy. It'll sure make it a little livelier… let's just check the price to make sure it's in budget."

Helpy gave a nod, moving the mouse. Suddenly, it flinched as a loud, much different scraping noise sounded from above. It came from within the walls, creaking and clanking. Almost as if it was nothing but a bunch of rough metal and wires.

The ragged, echoey cackle that Michael heard following it only confirmed his suspicions, and he rolled his eyes, glancing at Helpy. "Mind pulling the switch, bud?"

It gave a quick nod, hopping off the desk and running towards the corner besides them. Climbing the stack of boxes set up, it pushed itself up with tiny limbs towards a lever on the wall. Michael was still staring at the ceiling, eyes trailing after the source. Down the wall, towards the room, a beady pair of red mechanical eyes appearing in the open vent that glittered with malice-

Slam!

A large metal covering shut firmly down in front of the opening as Helpy finally tugged the lever down. It hopped away right afterwards and scuttled back to Michael, climbing onto his shoulder. He couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at his mouth as he heard the glitched groan of annoyance coming from the now-closed vent.

"Oh, c-come on, Mike!" They cackled, metal scraping against the walls. "I-It's not ve-very funny to keep old fr-friends waiting~!"

He rolled his eyes as he heard the endoskeleton limbs banging against the cover, crossing his arms. "I can do this song and dance all night. You're going to have to try a bit harder than that, Freddo."

The scraping froze for a moment, before resuming, much louder and more violent. "Di-Did YOU just c-call me FREDDO?!"

"Don't like the nickname, Freddo?" He grinned. Besides him, Helpy's small shoulders shook as it opened its mouth in silent laughter.

"I-I'll find a way in-inside, and then we'll see who's-who's laughing, M-Mike!" They snarled, attempts of breaking in still remaining fruitless.

"Yeah, yeah. Good luck with that, Freddo."

They gave a mechanical growl, leaving one last shrieking scrape against the vent before stomping away. Could a pile of wires and metallic eyes stomp?

With that, Michael turned his attention back to the screen, taking a drink from his cup as he glanced at the price now onscreen. 30 bucks… yeah, that's going on the list, easy. He was about to reach over for the second piece of toast on the plate, only to hit crumbs. Where did it…

Then, Helpy tugged on his shirt again. He became aware of a slight munching noise behind him, along with a familiar scent of decay and rust.

Michael spoke even before he'd even fully turned around, hefting a sigh. "Dad, get your own breakfast."

A rotten chuckle rumbled from the putrid suit, blackened eye sockets gleaming faintly with amusement. "Why, when there's plenty right here? You don't even need it anymore."

"Well, neither do you." He crossed his arms, glaring at the springlock suit. "Don't bother giving it back, I don't want it anymore. What is it this time?"

"Ah, of course not." William snorted. "Don't want anything from me, do you?"

"You haven't answered my question." Michael's hand visibly drifted towards the taser sitting on the desk, raising an eyebrow.

William took a step back, metal hands raised up. "Quite defensive, are we?" He chuckled. "I was only wondering if Elizabeth had stopped by tonight."

He shrugged. "Probably still after Molten in the vents. Liz doesn't exactly come by often. If she had, you'd be the first to know."

"Fair, fair." A ragged sigh echoed from the suit, and he popped the rest of the bread into his 'mouth', crunching down. He turned his head to look at Helpy, still sitting on Michael's shoulder. "Could do with a bit more butter, but oh well."

"You want more butter, do it yourself." He snorted, turning back towards the computer. "Now get out of my office. And close the door on the way out."

William gave a derisive rumble, gears clicking within the suit as he began to walk towards the back of the room. His feet clanked loudly as the door creaked, slamming it shut as the footsteps faded away.

Michael clicked away on the computer, focus returning as he glanced from ad to ad, adding some to the list, leaving others alone. A while passed until a small plastic finger was tapping on his arm, round eyes blinking up at him.

"What is it, bud?" His gaze darted to Helpy as it pointed to a clock, the number blinking in green.

It was 6 A.M. already? Heh… he supposed the nights were blurring together quite a bit after so long. He took one last sip of the drink before beginning to stand up, giving a few more clicks as the screen began to fade to black. He gave a slight yawn, glancing at the bed against the wall. Helpy gave another slight nudge, pointing at the cup.

"No, just leave it. Dad'll probably finish it off. Or Lefty might show up." Michael was already walking towards the mattress. He glanced at the little bear, giving a small grin. "Thanks, little guy."

Michael sat down, leaning his head back against the pillow. His eyes drifted shut quickly, settling against the bare sheets. He probably would have felt much colder if he still was able to physically feel much… but no matter. A moment of rest was plenty welcomed around here, no matter how it came. Soon enough, he was drifting off into an empty slumber, mauve body as limp and still as a corpse.

Three universes, five beings. Beings living normal lives- well, normal compared to the other oddities lurking in the depths of time and space. Some may have dared call it disturbing- and rightfully so, to an extent. After all, why else would they all have been lumped together in the first place?

But for them, it was life. Life with ups and with downs, comparative highs and lows they'd grown used to. Grown attached to, in some sense. Lives that may not have been perfect, but lives they could call their own. For it was their own.

And yet… soon enough, with no warning… it wouldn't be their own. Nothing would ever truly be their own ever again. How could it, with the memories that they would gain, impossible to erase away? Knowledge might have been both a curse and a blessing, but for them, it was no less than a horrific purgatory.

But it was the only way in sight. Every journey must start somewhere, and they are no exception. In fact… the five of them truly are the exception, for they alone were placed at the foot of such a tall mountain to climb in the first place. Knowledge is best picked up by way of experience, after all…

...Even if such an experience can be quite unwelcome at first.

[fnaficsfordays]

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