"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙚. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙚
𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚, 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩.
𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙚. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙚
𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩."
Michael thought you were stupid for being so kind to him. You must've been. Because who else would hear about everything he did – everything that his father did – and come rushing to offer him a sucker?
That thing inside of him thought you were stupid too. For not noticing how off he was. For looking directly into his coal-black eyes, surrounded by his sickly purplish skin, and not seeing a monster.
But you weren't stupid. You noticed it all, right down to the way his body would occasionally twitch and hum with a sickening mechanical click. You just didn't care.
Michael was fine with that. You could be the stupidest girl in the room for all he cared. As long as he could watch you from his corner, he was totally content.
Until that motherfucker showed up.
It was his nephew's birthday from what you gathered, and an avid smoker from what you smelled on his clothes. Michael watched disapprovingly from the doorway as he whistled for your attention, beckoning you toward the birthday table with two fingers. Like you were a dog instead of a criminally underpaid waitress.
It made Michael unfathomably angry.
"𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚.
𝙄'𝙢 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬
𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙."
You cringed at the man seated beside the head of the table. You got your fair share of guys like him. You couldn't even count the number of times you'd had to sheepishly approach Michael and ask him to escort a drunk father out of the building for touching one of your girls. He always did it with the polite tip of his hat, and you never ever saw those assholes again.
Right as you were about to lift up the countertop to go attend the party, your newest waitress, Chelsea, grabbed you by the arm.
"The cat came back," she whispered, round eyes darting toward the entrance of the diner. You didn't even bother to look before exhaling a long sigh of relief. Michael was there.
You attended the party, never looking, but comfortable in knowing that somewhere close by, Michael was watching you. The uncle of the birthday boy only grabbed your ass twice – only one of which you were able to successfully swat away with a tight customer service smile.
But the kid was happy. As happy as a child turning seven in Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex could be. That's all that really mattered anyway.
When it came time for you to start cleaning up paper cups and empty pizza boxes, the sleazy chain-smoker pulled you down close to his face and asked for your number and the time you got off. A few other adults laughed, waving it off as a joke. The kids didn't even notice, thank god. They were too absorbed in watching the birthday boy open up his presents.
"I'll be here until midnight if I'm lucky," you joked, dodging his arm to run your tray of trash back up to the counter. Your smile disappeared as soon as your back was turned but you knew that his prowling eyes followed you right up until you disappeared into the connected kitchens.
If there was one thing you learned from waitressing at Bonnie Bowl, it was how to separate the trash as quickly as possible. It was by now your biggest skill aside from swerving to avoid perverted partygoers. Part of you wanted to tap out and send in a more experienced hostess in your stead. But another, bigger part of you wanted to hold out. Wanted to test your limits.
And besides, if anything really happened out there, Michael was one glance away from dragging a grown man out to the parking lot by his thumbs. You've seen him do it before and some sick voice inside of you wanted to see him do it again.
And he would. For you, he would.
A tap on your shoulder made you jump and spin around, dropping half of your garbage tray in the process. The kitchens were much darker (and emptier) than the party floor. If hypothetically, an aggressive guest wanted to corner you someplace where you wouldn't be able to call for help, this was that place.
"Oh," you sighed, slightly embarrassed. "Hi, Bonnie."
The animatronic rabbit cocked his head to the side, looking between you and the pile of garbage deposited at your feet. You and Glamrock Bonnie have supervised a good fair share of birthday parties during your time together. The two of you worked in tandem. If a child ever cried in Bonnie Bowl, it was because neither of you was there to prevent it.
"I will take over," he said with a smile, watching you drop to your knees to start piling cups back onto your silver tray. You shook your head, wiping a stray lock of hair out of your eyes with the back of your wrist.
"No, I've got it. I just need two seconds and–"
"I will take over."
You paused and looked up with a cup half lifted to your pile. Bonnie was grinning, but there was something hidden deep underneath it. Something that you couldn't place. "Are-Are you sure?"
"I will take over."
The third most important thing you've learned, aside from sorting trash and dodging perverts, is that it's worthless to try and argue with an animatronic. You could only nod at his 'request' and smile as he reached down to ruffle your hair with one of his massive furry blue paws before pushing open the swinging door that led back out onto the party floor.
"𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙣𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙢𝙚.
𝙅𝙚𝙨𝙪𝙨 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩, 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚.
𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮, 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠."
When your break finally came, Michael was still waiting for you at the entrance. You were still a little flustered from what happened earlier, so you tried to walk by as quickly as possible without being noticed. Unfortunately for you, you were the only thing he thought was worth noticing at this job in the first place.
His hat was covering his eyes again, but he still spoke as you passed. "I can take care of him."
Michael's voice was warped and gritty. It rolled over you like hail as you slowed to a stop. You looked up at him just to see that his eyes had fallen elsewhere. Following his gaze, you found yourself watching Bonnie entertain the birthday party from earlier.
He was still there, sitting in the back row, wandering eyes darting all around the room in search of you. He wasn't even paying attention to his nephew.
You shuddered and dug into your purse. "It's just two hours. They'll probably be gone before I clock out. Thank you, though."
As you said this, you held out another sucker like the one you'd given him after he held the employee door open for you this morning. He slowly dragged his eyes away from his potential victim and took the candy from your hand with a knowing half-smile.
He didn't say anything else. You didn't ask him to.
It wasn't until much later that you realized that he was asking permission. He was waiting for you to tell him that he could act on his desire to slit the bastard's throat for touching you like that.
But you said no, and he listened. For some unholy reason, he listened. So because Michael couldn't kill him, he was just as content unwrapping his new treat and watching the rest of the birthday party go off without a hitch.
(A/N: Literally how did I crank out two chapters in one night. Uhm. Anyway, I have finals tomorrow. Probably should have worked on that instead of simping for Michael Afton. Cheers!)