𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘴 //

007

now playing..

"Swing Lynn"
-HARMLESS

-

       The feeling of cold hands gliding over your bare skin sent chills down your spine. Familiar office. White dress shirt.

   Hazel eyes.

•-•

      Your mind felt hazy as your feet hit the wooden floor, rubbing your head as you guided yourself downstairs.

      You decided it would take a tad more effort than you wanted to even think about your previous dream.

   In earshot of children arguing, your eyes landed on the two children fighting over a stuffed animal. Sammy's eyes met mine as he quickly looked back at Charlie. "Charlie won't give me the bunny back." He frowned as his sister yanks the stuffed toy from his hands.

   "Charlie, please share the bunny with Sammy." A yawn left your lips as you sat down at the dining room table, noticing Henry in the kitchen, as well as the scent of food in the air.

  "Good morning, how'd you sleep?" He bid you a good morning as he turned back towards his quick hands fumbling around with cooking utensils.

  "Well. I could ask you the same question, y'know." A small laugh left your lips as Henry merely sighed.

   "I wish I could have said your said answer." He stirred around the food in a pot, the oven eye about as hot as hell. "Alas, my insomnia got the better of me."

   "That's understandable." You left your answer short as your eyes glanced around the house, picture frames decorating the walls.

   Mrs. Emily stood in one, her sandy hair pulled back in a neat bun as a lavender top hugged her chest—whitewashed mom jeans torn a little at the knees. She's definitely a gorgeous woman.

       You stood from the table, glancing at the kids out of the corner of your eye before swiftly making your way into the kitchen.

  "Have you heard from her?" Your voice was merely a whisper, receiving a sigh from Henry

"No, and I don't know if she's coming back, knowing her."

    "It would shatter them." You referred to Charlie and Sammy, who were both being loud with their laughs, nearly shoving each other to the floor.

"Anyways what are you cooking?" You ask, looking back to Henry as a change of subject.

"Spaghetti. Charlie said she wanted some" he said, focusing on the dish he was preparing, sprinkling Parmesan cheese into the mix.  

   You made your way back to the table, having a seat next to Charlie, the child's hands grasping the stuffed bunny, its emerald eyes seemingly staring off into the fabric of reality.

    Your eyes made contact with Henry's as he set the dish of spaghetti in front of you.
 
You could barely thank him, a shift in your brain completely making you a stuttering mess. Your gaze was on his slightly bent posture as time seemed to stop in your mind.

    His eyes were the softest brown infused with green, as if he held the new spring growth inside. They were the forest floor and the gentle flowers, somewhere to rest and breathe.

    "Thanks." You could only mutter out as you turned to your food, mind running a little too fast for your liking. The dream clicked too much, your heart pounded as you thought about it, everything pointing straight towards him.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm- yeah I'm fine, it's just.. yeah." An awkward laugh left you as you picked a fork up and poked at your food. Though your heart still raced a million miles an hour, taking small bites here and there.

It's Sunday, so Fredbear's is closed. There might be a few maintenance workers there but other than that, no one should be in the building.

  "Hey, I've actually been meaning to ask you something for a little bit." Henry spoke up, setting his fork down.

"Hm?" You asked, glancing up.

"I'm aware that you're still healing, but I've wanted to ask if you were interested in a job opening, at least for when you're ready for it."

"A job opening? What kind of job?"

"I was thinking some maintenance, and whatnot. Working hands on with the animatronics and technology we're using here."

   A small smile formed on your lips. "You think I'm up for it?"

Henry laughed. "I think you would do well. I'll get you some type of uniform made as soon as possible. I'll need your measurements, though."

"Measurements? Alright, just let me know when." You poked at your spaghetti again.

  "Are you gonna finish your spaghetti?" Charlie asked. She had already finished her plate, completely wiped.

  "No, you can have it." You scooted your plate over to her across the table.
  "Thank you." She said and began devouring what was left on your plate.

  •-•

  "I need you to hold out your arms in a T formation."
  You do as the man behind your said, holding your arms up.

You could feel the tailors tape wrapped around your waist, his hands brushing against the fabric of your shirt as he worked.

   Henry was right behind you, your back against his chest. He placed his hand where the measurement was on the tape. He quietly said to himself the number before writing it down quickly.

    "There we go. I got all of your measurements down. You'll have a uniform tailored in no time." He placed a hand on your shoulder.

•—•

   "So how does this even work?" You asked, crouching down in front of the open compartment of the arcade machine.

   "It's simple, really. You connect the red wires that came undone, put a little electrical tape on them, and you're done." A deep, British voice was telling you how to do basic mechanical work.

   "Shouldn't we just replace the wires?" You asked, looking up at William's azure set of eyes as he merely laughed at your words.

   He scoffs. "Of course not. Not until those completely fail on us. We cut corners. We sweep things under the rug."

   "That's highly irresponsible."

  "I'm aware."

  You sigh before connecting the wires, holding your hand out. "Tape?"

   As the roll of black electrical tape is placed into your hand, you stretch a piece out and wrap it carefully around the red wires. Your gloved hand closes the maintenance door before screwing the door back to its closed state.

  "You're awful at your job."

"You are too, Afton."

•———•