hands you an update and leaves for another three months
pairing ; cscoop/cooper + traves/travis
prompt ; PHONE GUY COOP N NIGHTGUARD TRAV.
cw/tws ; mentions of blood and death [its fnaf what do u expect]
fic title from ; dancing in my room - 347aidan
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travis doesn't know why he's here.
the building is dark and eerie, strange creaks in the floorboards sound as he hesitantly walks into the establishment. it's old, cobweb hangs from the walls and there's a layer of dust covering everything in his immediate line of sight.
it's like a tomb, he thinks, grimacing at the comparison. travis shudders, suddenly cold, and the door swings shut with a loud thud behind him. he yelps, clapping a hand over his mouth, and presses himself against the wall. the layout of the place is complex, and as he studies it and moves further into the restaurant, he can't help but admire the framework of the old building. something shuffles in the distance and travis freezes, checking the time on his watch.
nuts, he needs to be in the office soon.
he catches a glimpse of the animatronics, plastic and dead-eyed, staring emptily into the room, as he walks down the hallway towards the office. he shudders once more and averts his gaze to his shoes, nibbling on the inside of his cheek and hesitantly stepping over the threshold into the office.
the chair is slightly uncomfortable, but as soon as he sits down, the bell chimes, officially signalling his shift starting. he shifts in the chair and stares haphazardly at the tablet on the desk, unsure of what to do with it. as he's trying to figure out what to do, the phone rings, loud and cutting through the gentle silence that travis somewhat enjoyed. he stares at the phone for a while, before remembering that he should maybe pick it up, and scrambles to lift it off of the receiver before the call drops.
"hello? hello, hello?" the man on the other end calls out, groaning in exasperation.
"hey!" travis says, and something clutters on the other line as the man hurries to sit down.
"shit- fucking finally, you're here. lemme find the goddamn- ah, yeah, got it. i don't get paid enough for this." he murmurs obscenities under his breath, then clears his throat and sighs. "welcome to your new summer job at the new and improved freddy fazbear's pizza."
"are you.. alright?" travis asks, and something on the other end falls.
"perfectly fucking peachy, man. listen, i'm gunna level with you- you picked a shitty place to work at. those murder-bots'll tear you to shreds if you don't listen to me, alright?"
murder-bots? what's the phone man talking about? this has got to be some kind of joke, right?
"uhh. alright?"
"good. look around your desk for a mask or something, that's your first defense. those plastic fuckfaces will try to get into your office, and you won't like what happens if or when they do. you put that sweaty fursuit head on until they leave, and you gotta be quick with it, because some of these shitheads show up unannounced." phone guy sounds really serious, and the seriousness in his voice makes travis suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet everything is.
he moves the freddy head closer to him and makes an affirmative sound, waiting for the phone guy to continue giving out the instructions.
"if you've got it, good. now check the camera, number eleven. there's that bigass present box, y'see it? keep the motherfucker in there calm or else. there's a button there. press it to wind up the music. that bitch in there will cause some serious fucking damage if it gets its thin little fingers on you."
"well, what- what is it?" travis does as he says nonetheless, pressing the cam eleven button and staring at the music box. it's big and white, a red bow adorning the top, and yet it's surrounded by crudely drawn pictures of a horrifying-looking puppet.
that certainly answers his question, but phoney will probably tell him more about the animatronic.
"don't worry about it. it's a creepy li'l fuck with long ass fingers that can and will choke the shit out of you if you don't wind the box." his voice takes on a pleading tone and travis- travis is scared.
"i-i didn't sign up for this."
"you signed the contract, same as me. there's always fine print, and you made the mistake of signing without reading it. you're stuck here. i'm sorry but that's the honest truth." the phone man's voice takes a bitter tone, flecks of glass lacing his voice as he continues to speak. "you're trapped. you should hope this shithole gets shut down before you die."
oh.
death.
travis has never had to worry about dying on a job before, but now? if what phone guy is saying is right (and it certainly seems so), travis will be staring death in the face every time he comes in. he has a mask and a flashlight, the company-issued tablet, the man over the phone, and that's it. no other protection.
there's a very real chance travis will die tonight.
he steadies his shaky hands and ignores the tugging feeling of fear in his chest, tries to focus back on the task at hand (which is now stay alive).
"will you at least stay on the phone with me?" he asks, timidly, and hears a groan from the other end. ouch. "i don't mean to be a burden, but-"
"i don't want anyone else to die because of the stupid fucking lies. i'll stay with you for tonight, but if you die- if i have to hear you die, i-" his voice cracks, and travis wonders how many people he's had die because they don't listen, how many times he's had to hear someone scream, bones crunching and blood spilling over the floor as they give up their last breath.
it scares travis.
"i'll try my best to stay alive." he solemnly promises, grabbing his flashlight.
checking the cameras, he notices two of the animatronics are gone.
his night of hell begins.
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it's surprisingly easy.
the phone-man gives him reminders to wind the music box ("don't forget to wind the damn box, idiot!"), goes quiet whenever travis scrambles to put the mask on, protecting himself from cold, metallic fingers and the threat of death.
they move in tandem. the vent thuds on travis's left, he grabs the mask and finishes winding the music box before tugging it on as the yellow one (he never bothered to learn their names) crawls out, looking at him with pinprick eyes and a vicious smile. he could have sworn she had a beak. a bead of sweat crawls down his neck as she moves closer to him, eyes widening as she moves to reach out. her arm drops and she leaves the way she came, crawling back through the vents in fluid motion.
"wow." he whispers, taking the mask off and checking both vents, making sure it's safe for him to look at the cameras.
phone guy laughs on the other end, a soft, mirthless chuckle. "i know. it gets worse throughout the week. there are eleven of those fuckers, including the goddamn puppet-" so that's what is in the box. "- that you have to keep your eyes on. you gotta be quick with the mask and make sure the music box is winded at all costs."
"well, at least i have you, right?" travis murmurs, mostly to himself, and there's a soft noise he almost doesn't register.
"yeah. that sounds nice." phone guy says, listening to the soft trills of my grandfather's clock chime through the tablet's speakers and the cranks of remote controlled winding.
the night is long, but it ends as soon as it begins, a gentle chime signifying travis's victory. phone guy lets out a long breath, seemingly glad the nightguard didn't die, and travis whoops excitedly.
"well.. i did it."
"that you did. i'm proud of you, kid." travis hums in response, cheeks flushed, and phone guy continues. "you have to be here before twelve tonight. go get some sleep. i'll call you when you get in the office."
there's a click and the dial tone sounds. travis huffs out a laugh.
he didn't get to thank him.
he always has later tonight, though. when he comes back into the despair-ridden building, ready to fend off murderous animatronics with the souls of innocent children who were taken from the world too soon, when he sits down in the office chair and when the bell chimes, night by night, followed by the signature ringing of the rotary phone on the desk.
he doesn't think he'd want it any other way.