Vincent was beside the door when Scott arrived home that night, the door making no noise when he opened and closed it.
"Hey," Scott muttered with a subtle wave, only glancing in Vincent's direction before he started toward the bedroom.
Vincent stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Where were you?"
Scott turned around, though he couldn't quite meet Vincent's eyes.
"I was at the carnival-"
"The carnival's been closed for three hours." Vincent took a step forward, taking Scott's hands. "Michael said that you went with him, but you just wandered off and he couldn't find you. I wanted to-" Vincent stopped, deciding there was no use in guilting Scott even further. "I was worried about you."
Scott looked up, meeting Vincent's eyes only to find that what he had feared was true.
Vincent was being completely honest, and Scott was just beating around the bush. After all, he wasn't sure if he could even bring himself to confess what had happened that night.
"I'm sorry that I worried you." Scott's eyes flickered to Vincent's lips. "Who did you end up going with?"
Vincent's gaze also shifted after that, his eyes on his and Scott's hands. "A friend."
"A friend?"
"An old friend. I thought it would be nice to catch up with her." Vincent squeezed Scott's hands for a moment. "If we had run into each other, I was going to introduce you."
"Was she the same woman I saw last night?" Scott muttered so quietly it was nearly a whisper, as if he truly didn't want to ask, even though he couldn't live without the answer.
"Look, I'm so sorry, I meant to tell you earlier, but you always work so late-" Vincent sighed as he felt Scott's hands pull away from his own.
Scott crossed his arms, still needing something to hold onto.
"I want to know why you're cheating on me, Vince." Scott took a step back. "I want to know why you're avoiding me, why you're only talking to me now because you thought I was missing."
"I'm not cheating on you-"
"You are!" Scott raised his voice, letting his arms fall to his sides. "She's been coming to our apartment for weeks now, and you expect me to think that you're just hanging out at midnight every night?"
"Her son was one of the kids who went missing!"
Scott bit his tongue as soon as the words had left Vincent's lips, standing as still as a statue.
Vincent continued, "I met her a while ago. She used to be a regular at the restaurant, but then her son disappeared. I-" Vincent took a step toward Scott. "I just wanted to help her through her grief, maybe even find some justice for what happened. I know who kidnapped those kids."
Scott felt the warmth drain from his skin, slowly taking a step back.
Perhaps, Vincent hadn't cheated at all. He really was just helping a grieving mother get back on her feet, and truly didn't know how to tell Scott about what he was doing.
Vincent was helping people, and Scott turned around and slept with the owner of the business that had ruined their lives.
Even so, there was still an elephant in the room that had to be addressed.
"Vince, if you kidnapped those kids, you know you can tell me." Scott looked at Vincent's face for a sign of his reaction, knowing that Vincent could have had murderous intent, just as William said. "I don't know if I can forgive you, but I'd still rather know the truth."
"Scott..."
Vincent crouched, just low enough that his eyes were at the same level of Scott's. "Love, if I had killed those kids, I would have been put in jail a long time ago. I surely wouldn't be meeting with that boy's mother. I could never kill; I just cleaned up the bodies."
Scott's gaze didn't soften, shock and concern still filling him at the thought that his boyfriend had become a criminal. He gently held onto Vincent's shoulder, keeping him at eye level.
"If you didn't kill them, then who did?"
Vincent's expression was stoic, pulling Scott's attention with a twisted curiosity.
"William Afton," Vincent said the name like it was poison on his lips, his gaze perfectly still.
"I-" Scott's hand fell from Vincent's shoulder as he glanced toward the floor. "William, like our boss? Mr. Afton killed those kids?"
"Look, I know how it sounds, but I watched him kill those kids through the safe room door."
The window on the door to the safe room wasn't anything remarkable, but it was just big enough and just clear enough that Vincent could see through.
He certainly hadn't wanted to kill the children himself- he would never forgive himself- but he would be lying if he said he wasn't curious.
It was that morbid curiosity that kept him standing beside the window, watching as each of the five bodies hit the floor, one by one.
First, William would restrain the kid, one of his hands holding both of the kids wrists behind their back while the other stuffed something into the kid's mouth. Vincent couldn't tell if it was a cloth or a piece of leather- a belt or a wallet, perhaps- that he used to prevent his victims from drawing attention to themselves.
Then, William would pick up the knife. It was a large pocket knife, the blade standing proudly at a length of four inches.
Vincent tried not to watch the murders themselves, looking at another part of the door until he heard the body hit the concrete. It never took very long.
Why William couldn't clean his own damn mess was beyond Vincent. In truth, he only agreed to clean up because he didn't want William to make anyone else do it.
Above that, even now, he had irrefutable evidence that could easily send William to prison.
The only thing left to do was clean up the mess.
"Here." William dropped the key to the safe room into Vincent's hand as soon as he left the room. "Scott's still here. Try not to let him see you."
Vincent slipped the keys into his pocket with no intent to return them. "Tell him to go home."
"Well," William pointedly looked down at his shirt and dress pants, which were stained with splatters of blood and sweat soaking the fabric. "I certainly can't tell him in this condition, can I?"
Vincent picked up the mop, crouching while he added bleach and floor cleaner to the bucket.
"Asshole," he muttered under his breath.
William's feet were planted in the threshold of the safe room, his arms crossed.
"What was that?" William's gaze was equally as sharp as the knife he had been holding earlier.
Vincent muttered something unintelligible after that as he pushed the bucket into the room, tossing the mop beside it.
"I'm going home. You can leave as soon as you're done." William began to unbutton his dress shirt, pacing toward the restrooms. "I'll check your work tomorrow."
Vincent didn't say anything when William left, not wanting to give him the closure of a response.
After all, he had become an accomplice to murder. He couldn't change his fate.
The best he could do was share the minimal information he had, praying that, one day, he could put William Afton behind bars.
Even after hearing the entire story, it was still difficult for Scott to believe, especially after the way that William had told the story on the ferris wheel.
"Why do you think he did it?" Scott had stepped toward the couch, hesitantly sitting down.
Vincent sat next to him. "He never told me why he did it."
"Vince, I..." Scott's hands moved slowly as he took Vincent's hands, unsure at first. He knew exactly what he had to say, but he wasn't sure if he truly meant it.
Scott gently squeezed Vincent's hands. "I...trust you."
That was all Scott had wanted from the beginning, wasn't it?
He continued, his thumbs stroking the back of Vincent's hands, "I was on the ferris wheel when it broke down. That's why I was home so late."
"Was there anyone up there with you?"
Scott shifted his feet against the carpet. "No, there wasn't," he muttered. "I guess I was just bored and wanted to spend the rest of my tickets, so I ended up sitting alone." It was a lie, though Scott felt a bit of truth in it as he spoke, as he felt so empty when William had taken a seat beside him on the ferris wheel earlier in the night.
Vincent's arm stretched over Scott's shoulders, gently pulling him closer.
"How long were you up there?"
"Oh, I don't know," Scott mumbled as he rested against Vincent's chest, the events of the night melting away. "I think it was about six hours before maintenance showed up."
"That sounds awful; I'm so sorry..." Vincent wrapped his other arm around Scott, as well, pulling him in for a warm embrace. "I'm just glad that you're home and you're safe."
Scott wanted to lean in even closer. After all, Vincent's soft lips and gentle breaths were almost too enticing to pass up.
He couldn't kiss Vincent immediately after kissing William, though. It felt like a sin- like he was wronging Vincent in some way- and he knew he didn't have the guts to do it.
Instead, he mirrored Vincent, never wanting to end the hug.
"I'm happy to be home, too." Scott took a breath, taking the time to savour the scent on Vincent's clothes that smelled so much like home. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too, Scott."
William couldn't stand the idea of going home.
Instead, he sat in his car for a minute, occasionally glancing in his rearview mirror as Scott walked toward the apartment complex.
What had they just done?
After he left the parking lot, speeding as he did, he headed directly downtown. After all, if Scott wasn't going to work the next morning, William wasn't, either.
He ran the red lights in his path before pulling into a parking lot and stopping abruptly in one of the spaces.
It was a quiet bar, sporting a business casual style of decor on the inside. He had no doubt that Scott would appreciate it.
"Can I get a..." William trailed off, a drink that Scott had once mentioned to him nagging at the back of his mind. "A screwdriver. That's the one."
"Sure thing," The bartender replied quickly before making the drink, sliding it across the bar when it was finished. "Here ya go. Wanna start a tab?"
"Yeah."
For a moment, he stared into the drink, swirling it around in the glass thoughtfully. The bartender hadn't garnished it, so it just looked like...orange juice...
It was cruel irony, how deceiving it was, like how Scott had a belt around William's neck only an hour prior.
When William finally took a sip, he ended up barely managing to choke it down. Of course, he wasn't used to the drink because it was so different from his usual choices; however, there was something else that bothered him.
Maybe it was only a coincidence- maybe it was William's memory playing tricks on him- but he could have sworn that he tasted this drink on Scott's lips earlier in the night.
Had Scott been secretly drinking at work?
It didn't take much for William to force the thought away, downing the remainder of the drink. It didn't particularly matter to him what Scott was drinking at work as long as he did his job.
William could, however, use what he had learned to his advantage, should the need arise.
"I'll have three shots of whiskey." He would do anything to get the taste of citrus out of his mouth. "From the rail," He clarified.
"You want all three right now?"
"Yes." If William had the energy, he would have been glaring daggers through the poor, thirty-something year old bartender.
"Alright." The shots were placed on the bar, as they were poured. "Anything else?"
"No."
William took the shots as quickly as the bartender had poured them, the subtle burning in his throat making him gradually forget all about what he had done with Scott.
Once or twice, the thought had occurred to him that Scott might have looked to him as more than a mentor or a guide. If they were no more than a boss and an employee to one another, Scott wouldn't have even imagined having sex with William, much less using it to take out his frustrations about work.
It was a nice thought to have, that Scott felt something for him. In addition, with William trying to figure Scott out in any way he possibly could, it was helpful.
Scott was a masochist, enjoying risks and danger. While William could absolutely push him around, he was stubborn. He simply enjoyed the game.
He also enjoyed screwdrivers. In William's opinion, they were childish, but so was Scott, in some ways.
"Hey," William called after the bartender, who was wiping down the counter. He held up the glass that the drink was in earlier. "Pour me another one of these."
The bartender collected the empty glasses in front of William with narrowed eyes, shrugging at how he hardly looked intoxicated, even after four drinks.
"Yeah, I'll make another one."
After a few seconds, the drink was in William's hands. He sipped it as he looked up at the bartender once more, the shots he had taken hitting him like a bullet.
This kid looks like Scott-
"Are you ready for your check, sir?"
William blinked and the place was back to normal, the same stranger from earlier standing in front of him.
"Excuse me?" When William looked down, the drink he had just ordered was gone, the glass empty again.
"Your check, do you-"
He shoved fifty dollars toward the bartender, not sticking around to watch as the kid picked up the money in shock.
"Here. Keep the change."
William stumbled to his car, his tongue on his lips and the back of his teeth. As much as he didn't particularly care for Scott, the thought alone made him feel distinctly alive.
In that moment, he would have given absolutely anything, only to feel Scott's lips on his again.
He only wanted to have Scott in his hands.