151: Loud and Clear

Ever since Fazbear installed the new intercom system, used to make prize announcements and service calls to the front desk, both Mike and Jeremy wait anxiously every evening for management to bid them goodbye.

Jeremy's alone in the locker room, Mike having excused himself for some undisclosed reason. Buttoning up his shirt, the nightwatch restrains a giggle when he hears static break through and echo throughout the pizzeria, a familiar voice coming over the intercom:

"Attention all Fuckboys! I ain't afraid of your whack ass robot shit you pull every night, so take your traditions and rules and shit and shove it all up your metal ass!" The intercom clicked, just reactivate a split second later: "And leave Fucksgerald alone while you're at it!"

There was the sound of something crashing, maybe a chair or something tipping over before the announcement cut off suddenly. Jeremy's laughter is so loud, Mike can hear him all the way from the front office.

152: Hallucination

Mike gently placed his palm on the back of Jeremy's neck, holding the nightwatch closer. Said teen's breathing was erratic, blood pulsing fast through his veins, his rib cage threatening to explode.

The security guard's touch, however, had a strangely counter effective on the panic rising in the nightwatch. Mike lent down, pressing his cheek into Jeremy's shoulders, one hand on the back of his head, shifting in the embrace to place the other on the brunette's chest, intent to try and calm down the teen's heart pace to a much more comfortable level.

Jeremy did not take his first Golden Freddy hallucination very well.

153: Light Bulb

"I don't get why we gotta do stupid shit like this, we're not maintenance." Mike groans, watching carefully as the brunette climbed the ladder. "Management can do this"

Jeremy frowned down at him from above, doing his best to keep his balance. "We need the light tonight. What if it b-blinked out in the middle of our shift?" He steadied himself, unscrewing the light fixture cover and holding it to the side. He reached a hand down. "Light bulb, please."

Rolling his eyes, Mike steps forward to hand said object over. "Careful, dork" Jeremy leaned a bit more outwards, fingers brushing against the offering. "I'm fine-"

To counter the argument, the ladder suddenly tipped over, Jeremy's shifted weight too heavy on one side for it to stand. He gave a startled yelp as the ladder toppled over, taking him with it.

Instead of hitting the cold hard tile, he gives a little 'oof'' as he fell back onto something firm instead, a much better cushion.

Mike's back slammed onto the floor, making sure to keep the brunette tucked securely in his grasp. He sounded an irritated groan, clutching the teen much tighter as if it would further his attempt to shield him from harm. "Fucking hell, Jeremy..." He caught his breath, "Are you hurt?"

Jeremy simply peered up from the security guard's chest, staring thoughtfully past his grasp. He spots a pile of shard glass and frowned. "The light bulb broke"

154: Disability

He tries to hide it, tries to ignore the brain damage and it's consequence; and surprisingly enough, he finds it very easy, especially since people usually made their own assumptions on him first hand based on his temper.

But there are somethings he can't hide. Jeremy knows he can't work certain household appliances, that social norms can't bend and hold simply for him, that his 'Blanks' have the capability to turn him into something he's not. Or to remind him that he already is.

He watches Mike accidentally pull the locker door from it's hinges, the guard cursing under his breath as he fumbled to reattach it. Either he underestimated his strength, or overestimated the locker's durability, either way, the hinges were ripped beyond repair.

Jeremy just tilts his head and smiles. "I can help you fix that"

Mike glances over his shoulder, sticking his tongue out. "I don't need your help"

Just another moment that proved to him that despite the odds, no matter how insignificant or important the matter at hand was, Mike was still the stubborn asshole as always, brain damage or not.

155: Distraction

This is probably the fourth time in the last ten minutes that the security guard has caught himself staring at the nightwatch in the same dopey, dazed out gaze dogs would get when they're drooling over a bone.

Mike scratched his head, confused with himself. We're they both sick? Maybe there was something on his face. He runs a hand down from his forehead to his chin, frowning when that provided no answer. Strange, the urge to keep his eye on the nightwatch with no clear explanation, that his mind didn't want to run over anything else other than Jeremy.

It made him sneer. "Can you stop that?"

Jeremy looked up from the tablet, baffled. "S-stop what?"

"That" Mike repeated, gesturing fully towards him. "Stop this. It's distracting."

The brunette raised a brow before shrugging. Mike was in a bad mood, probably. Anything is annoying to him at that point. Hell, if some one so much as breathed the same air as him, he'd take it as harassment. Better to just let him simmer, Jeremy thinks, he's probably sleep deprived anyway.

Mike bites his lip when Jeremy returns to the tablet, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

156: Blink

They say when you die, your life flashes before your very eyes. All the memories; good, bad, forgotten, cherished are relived. All you have to do is blink..

Mike blinks. Then he blinks again. and again. and again. Strange, he still feels alive, and not because the visuals are changing. They're all so full of life.

Maybe if he survives the springs, he can figure out why the only memories that rushed through him consist of emerald eyes and innocent laughter.

157: Wonderland

In a world where a violet tyrant ruled over an army of ghoulish children and their metal toys, Jeremy dreams of a following a golden rabbit to a house of wire and bone. In the middle of the room is a man leaned back in his chair, a stitched top hat his most adoring feature, hiding his eyes.

Jeremy approaches the man cautiously, giving weary glances to his surroundings. Maybe he should say hello? Or ask where he was? Or maybe he should run; the icy blue that peered up from the shadow of the hat sent chills down his spine. Though, his fear was easily overcome with his curiosity.

The hatter's eyes flashed a grim dark color as he invited the boy to take a seat, a coy grin settling upon his face.

158: Butterfly

Mike frowned, swatting the insect away as it fluttered around his head. He didn't care for butterflies; no matter how pretty or 'majestic' they seemed. They were more like pest than anything.

As if displeased with rejection, delicate wings flutter away, off to a much more preferable destination: Jeremy's nose.

The security raised a brow, stiffing a smirk as the nightwatch went stiff, frozen and staring wide eyed at the wings fluttering on the front of his face. Blinking, he shakes his head to send it off, but the butterfly only flattens it's wings to steady itself.

Mike laughs whist Jeremy looks to him with pleading eyes. "H-help..."

159: Hidden Identity

Mike has never in his entire lifetime been in public without some sort of headgear on hand. He's always had his beanie, or maybe a bandanna, a base ball cap or even a security cap would suffice.

But now, he's stuck on a hour long subway ride with a certain brunette fast asleep on his shoulder, and some snot nosed kid that won't stop hassling him. Oh, and did he mention the brat had his cap?

Mike glares at him from his spot on the seat, having half a mind to lean forward and snatch it back. But the kid's standing more than a foot's worth away, and any outwards movement would probably wake Jeremy. Not the best idea.

"So....where's your hair?" The kid titled their head, eyeing the guard's head. Mike sneered, "I'm not bald, if that's what your implying."

"Watcha got them for?" The child interrupts, clutching the stolen cap tighter as he pointed an accusing finger at the security guard's stitches. "Didja get em in a fight or something?"

Mike glanced around the train car; an old woman with a newspaper, a jogger with earphones in his ears and what looked to be the mother, too busy with her phone to notice what her child was doing.

No one was paying attention yet, and he'd like to keep it that way. Though, if he called for the mother, it would attract some kind of attention. There was no winning against this kid.

He rose his free arm, placing his hand on the top of his head. "I might have" He responded, watching the kid's face light up in curiosity. He didn't have an actual explanation for the scars, so supposedly his answer was as good as any other.

"Really?" The child beamed. "Who didja have to fight to get em? Were they strong? Did they beat you? Or did you win? Was it hard? Did you use lazers? Or swords? Or maybe guns or super strength or heat vision or-"

"Kid, I think you're over thinking yourself." Mike interrupted, correcting the child's assumptions. "I'm not some super hero, aight? They don't exist-"

"So you're a villain?" The child frown, crossing their arms. The dissatisfaction on their face was evident, and Mike felt a sense of unease as they held the cap even further away.

They took a step back, ready to retreat to their mother. "You're the bad guy...."

Mike opened his mouth to protest, but someone else beat him to it. "Mike's not a bad guy...H-he's saved me a bunch of times, you know?"

The child's gaze switched from blue to meet green, a sleepy Jeremy snuggled into the older man's shoulder. "He's a big meanie sometimes, but that's just because h-he needs naps."

"Like you?" The child inquired. Jeremy laughed. "Y-yeah...kinda like me"

Blue eyes darted from the nightwatch back to the kid, silently wondering as to where this conversation was going. "He's a meanie sometimes, l-like now, but that's just because he's tried and c-cranky from fighting all the time" Jeremy smiles, his hand slipping to intertwine with Mike's.

There's a coiling feeling in Mike's chest and a heat rising to his cheek that he really wished he had to cap to hide; still possessed by the heavily intrigued child still. Green eyes dart down to the head wear, tilting his head in silent understanding.

"Superheros need to keep their identity secret, right?"

The child put a thumb on their chin, as if they were dramatically thinking. "That's what cartoons do..." They pondered out loud, glancing thoughtfully down at the cap. Sighing, they stepped forward and placed it gently in Mike's lap, an apologetic expression spreading across their features.

"M' sorry, mister..." The child looked up with puppy eyes, "I won't tell anyone, promise!"

Mike gave a low level sneer, swiping up the cap and placing it on his head. "You better not, or I just might have to become the villain..."

He inwardly grinned as the child gave a little squeak, retreating back to the comfort zone of their mother's presence. Jeremy's figure shifted beside him, rolling his eyes. "I wonder why children flock around you so much..."

"Maybe because it's their life goal to make my life miserable."

He felt a playful, feeble punch to his arm. "They like you, you know." Jeremy smiled. Mike snorted, curling his arm back around the nightwatch. "They have a funny way of showing it. Go back to sleep, we still have another hour to wait."

160: Lunch

Jeremy spun in his combination, swinging open his locker and pulling out a crumbled paper brown bag. Opening it up, he peered inside. Contents were the usual his mother made for him, a sandwich or a fruit cup or whatever wouldn't spoil kept in confinement of his locker for a few hours.

Pulling out the fruit cup, the nightwatch sat on the bench. It was early morning, probably around 7. Mike was in the showers freshening up, probably best not to bother him. Which was fine, Jeremy didn't have the chance to eat breakfast much anyway. Not with school and his shift being so dreadfully brutal on his sleeping schedule.

He's about to stuff a grape in his mouth when something wet drips on his shoulder. "Grapes are disgusting"

Jeremy whips around, pouting at the security guard's smart remark. "Well, I like them" He defended. "You're also still wet, y-you should have dried off completely before getting dressed, Mike"

The older man rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You're nagging again."

He walks over and pulls a towel down from a top shelf, drying himself off before tossing it to the side. Jeremy frowns at the discarded article, sparing Mike a glance as he settled down by the nightwatch. "You're not good with m-manners..."

"No, I'm not" Mike chuckles, peering down into the remains of Jeremy's lunch bag. "You plan on sharing?"

"I thought you said you hated g-grapes."

"I do, but I'm hungry as fuck." He countered, sighing when the nightwatch simply rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Jere, I've been eating pizza all damn year."

Jeremy huffed, poking the bag towards Mike's direction. "I d-didn't say you couldn't have any."

His pout dropped when Mike prompt took the remains and dumped the grapes in his hand, shoving them into his mouth. "I was g-going to eat some of those..."

The security guard looked comical, cheeks puffed out from the unchewed grapes still sitting on his tongue. With an irritated groan, he stuck a finger in his mouth and pulled out a grape, only to have Jeremy squeal in shock when it's shoved not-so-mannerly into his mouth.

Jeremy's tongue brushes over Mike's finger before he could process the situation, swallowing the grape before a second thought. "W-what was that?" He coughed, "That was in your m-mouth!"

The older man shrugged. "So? I don't have cooties or whatever."

"But...that..."

Mike raised a brow at the stutter, unimpressed with the the teen's conflict. He scanned over flushed skin, watching the pink flow from the tip of Jeremy's nose to the ends of his ears. Swallowing back down the last of his mouthful, something clicked inside his defective mind. Right, so he may have just made a mistake...

He pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Why are you so worked up about an 'indirect kiss?' What, would you like a real one instead?" He taunted. "You're too easy to rile up, Jeremy"

The nightwatch bit his lip, scooting a few inches away for good measure. Wordlessly, he pulled the sandwich out of the bag and took a bite of it, lost for words and cheeks still blaring. Childish green eyes glared at him mid-chew, unable to think of a retort.

Mike eyed the sandwich and smirked. "Gonna share?"

"No!"

161: Shadow Puppets

When the shift was slow and it was ticking closer to 6AM, the both of them would allow their guard down, if only for a few moments.

Mike's flickering through the cameras, quietly noting the animatronic's locations, holding his thumb over the remote controlled music box. It's' a quiet Monday night, no real danger presented itself so far. The dim lighting was soothing and so was the hum of his coworker, who was supposed to be in charge of the flashlight tonight.

He looks up from the screen in thought of the nightwatch, expecting to see the brunette concentrating down the hallway or keeping a close eye on the opposite vents. Instead, he finds something a lot more innocent.

Jeremy's tired head is laid down on the desk, his chin propped upwards so he faced the opposite wall. With the flashlight shining brightly against the wallpaper, Mike watches him put two hands in front of the light and cast a shifting shadow.

He remains quiet, leaving Jeremy to think he hasn't been noticed yet. Small fingers curl around each other to form a rabbit, hopping in the air. Then it's a bear, and now a fox. He casts what Mike assumes to be some sort of duck before forming a cat, ears tilting and mouth opening and closing for soft little mews.

He doesn't realize Mike is watching until he hears the rolling chair scoot over, another pair of hands joining the puppet show. Jeremy freezes, his fingers still casting the shadow of a cat as another joined it, this time, the shadow of what looked to be a mangled dog.

Mike fumbles with his fingers a bit before getting it correct, a soft smirk on his face as the larger shadow joined the smaller one. After a moment of lightheartedness, Jeremy watches the wolf softly nip at the kitten, a warmth brushing against his palm.

"Stop goofing off," Mike ordered, trace of a smile still on his face. "Unless you're willing to show Marionette your puppet tricks, you've gotta keep your eye on the vents, got it?"

Nodding, Jeremy allows his shadow to playfully hiss at Mike's, picking up the flashlight and returning to business.

162: Sedative

"Fuck no! Get that shit away from me!"

The doctor stumbled backwards, needle in hand while his patient thrashed about. Mike glared at him from his trapped spot, more hands coming to hold him down by the arms. "You can't sedate me!"

Catching his breath, the doctor held his hands up in surrender. "Please, Mr. Schmidt, this is entirely necessary. You have metal shards embedded in your stomach and you're losing blood quickly...we have to operate now-"

"Don't come fucking near me!" Mike growled, attempting to shake off a nurse in vain. The blood loss should have made his head feel light and his limbs slack, but the threat of being trapped inside a hospital again was sending enough adrenaline through his system to fight the pain. "I'm not sleeping in a hospital again, ever! You fucking understand?!"

He jerks his torso to the side in an attempt to escape, only to wheeze as pain shot through his nerves. Foxy must be proud of himself, he thinks, for having caught him at the worst moment.

Jeremy's cowering in the corner of the emergency room, unharmed, thankfully, but consumed with panic and concern. "L-let them do it, Mike..." He tries to reason, voice cracking under the tension. "It's going to h-hurt a lot worse if you do it without anesthetic..."

"Then forget it! Pull them out, I'll live! I don't give a shit about how it's done, just as long as I'm awake, dammit!" Mike sneers, "None of you have any right holding me here!"

"Y-your life is in d-danger, Mike!"

"I don't fucking care" He spits, cold ice glaring into each and everyone in the room. "I'll kill one of you before I let you put me back in a coma"

Jeremy could have sworn blue eyes flashed black. "That's not-!"

A hand pulled him away from the older man, turning him out of hearing range. Mike's attention diverted from the nightwatch to the employees in white, cursing and thrashing all the same.

The doctor bent down to Jeremy's level, speaking to him in hushed, hurried tones. "Unless you have a method to calm your friend down, it's best if you leave. We might have to resort to desperate measures to sedate him."

Jeremy's throat was going raw with worry, eyes widening in realization. "Please, he just r-really hates hospitals, ok? He's scared of....f-falling back into a c-coma and I...uh" His mind went blank, caught up in the commotion happening behind him. "Isn't there anything e-else we can do-?"

The sound of someone crashing cut him off, both of their heads turning to stare at the nurse that was just knocked to the floor. Instead of muttering something under her breath, or picking herself up, she simply pointed to the heart monitor with a grim expression. "Sir, his pulse going is too fast. We need to give him a sedative now or he'll under go Tachycardia."

The statement swung Jeremy's vision to the monitor, breath hitching at what he saw. The nurse was right, Mike's heartbeat was too fast to be healthy.

The doctor sighed, straightening his collar and rolling up his sleeves. "I'm sorry, but we're pushing it too close to comfort. He's pumping more blood than he can afford to lose." He re-clicks the needle, turning to give Mike a apologetic stare. "Strap him."

Rage flew across the security guard's features. "Fuck you."

A third figure rushed into the room to restrain him. His response to the action was a sharp jab with the elbow, aiming for the gut. He was not afraid of hurting anyone, not at all. He's not going back to sleep in this damn hospital, not without a fight.

The heart monitor beeping sounded throughout the tile room, and Mike vaguely remembers the patch still strapped to his chest to monitor his pulse. Didn't matter, as long as they kept the sedative with needles or pills or laughing gas or whatever the fuck new fangled method they had ten feet away from him. He'll pull the metal shards out himself if he needed to.

Something coils around his wrist and he quickly jolts it away, snapping whatever restraint the nurse had tried to force on him. "Don't fucking touch me!"

"Mike..."

He arched back to face the timid voice, snarling. "What?!"

Trembling, fragile hands rose to cradle the sides of his face, the once raging Mike falling still in a sudden pause. Blue eyes grew wide, feeling the entirety of his being halt as Jeremy kissed him.

The room fell silent. No one moved. It only took a moment.

Mike felt something sharp puncture the back of his neck.

Reflexively, he bites down on Jeremy's lip before being pulled away, a woozy sensation already rushing to overtake his senses. The nurses let him go, the first thing coming to mind was to run. But his legs were heavy and his breathy had become uncomfortably slow, so he ended up slumping against the nightwatch instead.

Jeremy swallows, a low growl coming from where the older man sluggishly buried his face in his neck. Steadying best he could, Mike leaned up, nose-to-nose with the shaking brunette.

Mike grit his teeth. "You." He breathed heavy, "When I wake up....I'm gonna..."

Suddenly, the harsh grip around Jeremy's shoulders disappeared as Jeremy watched blue eyes roll back, the security guard having lost consciousnesses.

The nurses were quick to retrieve him, hoisting him up on the stretcher and sharking equal looks of relief, glad they no longer had to wrestle with the what seemed like the worst patient they've had yet. Jeremy, however, could not share that relief.

He watches them re-hook all the wires mike had previously torn out, slowly turning to give an uneasy look to the monitor. After a moment of careful observation, he finally felt the relief he was waiting for. Sighing, he slumped against the wall, exhausted. Mike was stable.

The doctor coughed beside him. "That was an effective distraction, good work." He praised, receiving no acknowledgment from the teen.

The hum of busy people working drowned out with his thought. "...Is he going to be ok?"

Blinking at the question, the doctor nodded. "He'll be fine, don't you worry. The surgery will run smoothly and it will all be over in a heartbeat" He paused, taking on a much lighter expression. "Speaking of which, are you aware you solved his pulsation problem as well?"

Jeremy wrung his hands together in his sleeves, baffled. "...I'm sorry? I..." He trailed off, following the doctor's pen pointer to the heart monitor's chart. The point landed on a certain skip, following the time line that would place it only minutes before now.

The doctor gave a warm smile. "I don't mean to alarm you, Mr. Fitzgerald. But this amplitude here implies that, even if just for half a moment, you made his heart stop."

163: Ear Phones

Jeremy's oblivious to the world, sitting quietly at the bus stop whilst listening to music. His collection varied from different genres, not like he could settle on a single one. Tapping his fingers against his pants leg, he reads a new book as he soaks in the tune.

Something pulls out his right earphone, Jeremy looking up from the paper, only to see Mike dully plop beside him and place the piece in his own ear. Unable to protest, Jeremy sits still, watching as Mike judges the melody.

A minute passes and the security guard turns to him, sticking his tongue out. "Your music taste sucks"

164: Empty

Ever since they started sharing an apartment, Mike's found things have changed. Maybe it was the furniture re-positioned. Maybe it was that everything was clean most of the time, or maybe it's that whether Mike liked it or not, Jeremy ran the damn household.

'Pour drinks out in the sink before you throw them away', He would say, 'Stop leaving your clothes on the bathroom floor' and 'We're not having noodles for dinner every day of the week' or even better: 'Why are there curtains in the oven, Mike.'

Jeremy was a huge nag, a serious bummer. As cliche as it sounded, the whole I-don't-give-a-flying-fuck-about-my-life attitude was exactly Mike's style, and the home he sleeps in should feel the same. Though, the nightwatch just didn't seem to fit in the demeanor.

But then Jeremy leaves on holiday to visit his aunt and other extended family, assuring the security guard that he'd only be gone be three days, five at the most.

The first mistake is when he arrived back at the apartment after a day of errands. Walking through the front door, he catches himself calling out Jeremy's name that he doesn't get an answer to. This home is empty and he's not quite sure how to feel about that.

165: Glasses

Mike laughs, one hand posed on the nightwatch's forehead to hold his bangs back. Said teen's face was flustered a pallet of pink, both embarrassed and self-conscious. The guard's teasing wasn't helping the situation.

"Seriously?" The older man chuckles. "Holy fuck, Jere, when did you go blind? I mean, I knew you were short, just not short sighted!"

Jeremy rolls his eyes, readjusting his new pair of glasses. "It's just t-temporary, Mike. I'm not going to k-keep them..."

He yelped as Mike's thumb thwacked his nose, rubbing it tenderly. The security guard gave an amused grin. "C'mon, they suit you. Gotta give ya credit too; honestly didn't think you could get any dorkier, but hey, you proved me wrong, right?"

Jeremy shuffles his bangs back over to hide the glasses, only for Mike to brush them back again. Green eyes have gotten about ten times more adorable, he realizes, careful to keep that thought to himself. And there was no way he was going to let Jeremy live this down.

166: Thunder

Jeremy Fitzgerald is afraid of a lot of things: dentists, clowns, the animatronics, Mike's weird old lady neighbor who doesn't know how to put her dentures in correctly, looking like a rejected muppet every time she walks out to check the mail.

Then there were other things, like the well known cliche: Thunder storms.

The rain didn't bother him. The lighting didn't either, even the sleek, wet roads and the sound of pitter patter hitting the windows wasn't any trouble for him. It was calming, even.

But when a loud, crack of sharp thunder shakes the ground, Jeremy can't help but dive for whatever cover was available.

Mike has to deal with the blubbering brunette until he's brave enough to open his eyes, wrapping the nightwatch in blankets and cornering him on the bed. He keeps his tone hush and steady, hoping that Jeremy could lock onto his voice whilst tuning the thunder out. It's calming, a feeling better than the rain.

166: Path

Someone once told Mike that falling in love was like a taking a walk: new things to discover, following wherever the heart wanted to lead you, whether it be to gaze down memory lane or a dive off a steep cliff into uncharted waters. Love would be a marvelous adventure.

Mike wants to punch the liar in the fucking throat.

Because so far, he's ran, tripped, stumbled, fell, picked himself back up before slipping up again. He doesn't know where he's going, or why he's trying so hard to get there. But one thing he does know is that every path has a rose bush, and with those roses come thorns. They've scratched and nicked him, sliced him to the point where he can't bare to trust the road anymore.

But then he stops, takes a deep breath, and decides to take one last chance. Blinking, he finds his path suddenly lined with patches of bright, green clovers.

167: Prom

It's senior prom. There are bright streamers everywhere, loud music, couples dancing, couples fighting, even the food table was flocked with the usual hogs.

Oh, there's Mike too. Jeremy absolutely no idea how he managed to sneak in without being noticed, since obviously he was not an attending student. Not like any of the other kids cared. But who was he to complain?

On second thought, he had a lot to complain about.

His suit was itchy and a big on him. Mom said it was one of his father's, and Jeremy briefly ponders on just how much of a small stature his father would of had. Combine that with the petite genetics of his mother and it made the lanky, short, awkward looking Jeremy he is today.

Mike found it adorable, not like he'd say anything about it.

Speaking of appearances, the brunette found it both utterly frustrating and intrigued as to why the security guard decided to wear a fedora to the gathering, out of all thing.

"What?" The older man smirked, tipping his hat. "Don't like it?"

"I-I never said that..." Jeremy defended, leaning up against the back wall. "I'm just surprised to see you here, is all"

It wasn't a full lie, considering not even Jeremy wanted to be here. But of course, dear ole Mom got the idea that if he didn't attend prom in his his high school years at least once, he'd wish he had later. She uses her own experiences for this, he realizes, but it's still baffling to the nightwatch.

Mike, however, was full out on the idea. "So...you got a date yet?" He teased, taking a spot next to the younger male. "Or are you just one of those losers that stare sadly at all those 'happy couples'?"

Jeremy pouted, rolling his eyes. "It's a b-bit late to find a date right now. The prom has already started." He faulted for a moment, sparing the guard a questioning glance out the corner of his eye. "...Why are you here? You don't even attend."

"Free food" Mike replied, "They got killer cake."

"So...why are you in a suit?"

"Blending in. Besides, I pull it off pretty fucking well, right?" He straightens his tie for emphasis, "You look like a massive dork in yours though" Jeremy sticks out his bottom lip, "Very funny, Mike. I don't even want to be here right now."

He misses the raised brow the guard dawn, picking at his sleeve cuffs. "...None of this is really my idea, anyway. Mom thought it would be n-nice to for me to 'socialize' more" Giving a little huff, Jeremy slinks back against the wallpaper further. "I can't wait to leave..."

Mike snorted. "Without dancing? C'mon, you've got to do something here"

"...I can't dance. You know that."

"Groove dancing? Nah, you're pretty shitty at that." Mike chuckles, glancing out towards the dance floor. The area is still littered with embracing couples and wild singles, though the were spaces available should one want to join. He clicked his tongue in thought.

He smiled when a slow song played over the hall. "Dare ya to go out there and dance with me"

Jeremy's narrowed his eyes, shifting uncomfortably. "...That's a joke, right?"

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"N-No-"

"Then no, I'm serious." Straightening his posture, Mike extended his hand, a welcoming look on his face. "Dance with me"

169: Footsteps (Continued)

Jeremy's glance darted from blue eyes to the outstretched offer and back again. "...W-what if I don't want to?"

"Chicken"

A flare rose on the nightwatch's cheeks. "I am not-!"

"C'mon, what's there to be afraid of?"

"People will think it's weird! That I'm weird!"

"Bit late for that" Mike stepped forward, taking the nightwatch by the arm. "C'mon, I did not sneak in here just so you can mope in the corner for your entire prom. Grow a pair and get out there with me; it's just a ballroom dance. I'll catch you if you fuck up."

Jeremy pressed his lips into a thin line, subconsciously leaning against the older male's arm. Mike walked out a few steps, where the blue light fell softly on the cheap streamers. He guides the brunette to a clear spot, silently rotating on his heel. "Aight, you remember what I taught you?"

The nightwatch, fumbling with his his hand placements, gave a low shake of his head. "Not really..."

"Whatever, follow my lead, alright?"

Jeremy felt a lump in his throat when Mike took his hand in his, holding in out in the commonly manner fashion. Another hand snaked around his waist, settling just above the hip. Shifting his feet, Mike gestured his head towards his shoulder. "Other hand here, silly"

Taking a deep breath, Jeremy complied. "Is this r-right?"

"Yeah, step on three." Mike put his right foot behind his left, ready to begin. "One, two, step-"

The two stumbled backwards, still grasping each other but looking akin to goofs. Mike groaned, a throbbing in his chin as Jeremy shook his head, bangs covering the spot where the impact was. "S-sorry..."

"Holy fuck, you're terrible at this" The security guard sighed, adjusting his fedora. "I'm giving you lessons after tonight."

Jeremy remained silent, green eyes darting to the other students around them. No one had noticed, not a soul, but it still felt as if everyone's prying gaze was upon them. Maybe it was just nervousness. Why he was nervous? Not a clue, though it might have something to do with how close the two were.

And just to throw his gut into flips, Mike wrapped his arm around him tighter, their torsos incredibly close. "There," He mumbled under his breath, Jeremy blinking as he felt the warmth against his forehead. "You can't possibly mess up now. Take it from the top, aight?"

Swallowing, Jeremy could only manage a small nod. "Alright, start."

Mike took a sharp step to the right, Jeremy following in suit. One step, two steps, three steps, all in a clockwise direction. So far, so good. The guard has obviously had practice, if not a bit restless. His footsteps were swift and smooth, gliding across the floor with ease.

Jeremy on the other hand felt like he was going to stumble with every move. And to further his fear, he felt the top of his foot skid across the floor in one miscalculation, sending him forward. "M-Mike-"

His yelp is muffled by a tie. "I'm still leading, remember?" He heard a voice above him snark, face buried into the older man's suit. "If your really that damn clumsy, just lean on my until you got the hang of it."

Mike felt the teen mumble something against his chest. "This is why I don't go to these kind of things..."

"Shush, less talking. It's a distraction." Mike paused, "Just listen to the music, I'll take care of the rest."

With the command, Jeremy's ears peeked to listen. It was a smooth melody, calm and evenly harmonious. Mike's footsteps fell into rythem with the song, guiding him with every placement. His movements were as fluid as running water, and thankfully, Jeremy found himself falling into synchronization with him.

The song is switching again, still as slow as the last, but they hardly paused. Blinking, Jeremy looked down, two sets of shoes dancing in connected beat. "I-I think I'm doing it right..." Relief and joy skipped into his chest, a warm smile spreading on his cheeks. "Mike, I'm dancing!"

Pride etched onto Mike's features, settling his lips to rest gently on the brunette's hairline. "Told ya so"

170: Caught (Continued)

Their dance came to a startling halt when fingers tapped Mike's shoulder, the security guard groaning and turning away from the nightwatch. He held a grumpy sneer, unhappy with the interruption. "What?"

"Excuse me, sir, but do you attend this facility?"

Both males paled, staring into the round rimmed, judgmental glare of the school principal, whom didn't look happy, to boot. "This is a fundamental event for graduating students and their attending company alike. We don't appreciate uninvited guest." The tone was stern, ready to call for security if needed. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step away from Mr. Fitzgerald and leave the lot before you are forcibly removed."

Silence fell over the three of them, the other students completely oblivious to their situation, partying the night away. Mike gave a defeated sigh, letting his hands drop to his sides. "Keep your dentures shut, I'm leaving."

Ignoring the offended principal's glare, blue turned back to disappointed green. Mike shrugged, offering his arm. "May I escort the dork home?"

A bright grin formed on Jeremy's face, linking his arm with his. "Yes, you may"

Walking out the front doors, Mike could have sworn the principal was going to have a heart attack.

171: Auto-correct

9:34 PM

Jeremy:

Mike look (｡◕‿‿◕｡)

9:34 PM

Mike:

what the fuck is that

9:34 PM

Jeremy:

It's a text face. Isn't it cute?

9:35

Mike:

That's weeby af

9:35

Jeremy:

| (• ◡•)| (❍ᴥ❍ʋ)

9:36 PM

Mike:

stop that shit it's annoying

9:36 PM

Jeremy:

ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪

9:37 PM

Mike:

fucksgerald u need to stop

9:37 PM

Jeremy:

But they're so cute! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

9:38 PM

Mike:

is that a fucking bear

9:38 PM

Jeremy:

(~˘▾˘)~

9:38 PM

Mike:

one more face thing and ill fucking kiss you

9:39 PM

Jeremy:

◉_◉

9:39 PM

Mike:

*kill

9:39 PM

Jeremy:

(ಠ‿ಠ)

9:40 PM

Mike:

JEREMY

172: Center Of Attention.

Overtime, Mike's behavior has drastically changed from since they've first met, and Jeremy isn't sure whether this is a good sign or a terrible mistake.

He was still the snarky asshole, nothing can change that. But there were the small, subtle changes in his attitude towards the younger male that Jeremy just couldn't quite categorize.

Maybe it's the way Mike walked slower whenever they walked somewhere together, or perhaps it was the way he got this strangely grim look on his face when Jeremy once mentioned this student at school he thought was kind. The guard had rolled his eyes and changed the subject, taking the nightwatch off guard.

Jeremy knows he shouldn't over analyze things. It's just worrying to see the man so distracted, like there was something always on his mind when they were together.

For a while, he thinks it's because he's beginning to annoy Mike. Being the emotionally oriented kid he is, he quietly confronts the security guard one night after a tiring shift, hoping in his heart that he was wrong.

He was half-right it seems. Mike was thinking of him, just not as negatively as he had feared.

But as his back hits the locker wall, Mike cornering him with wolfish grin, Jeremy realizes that the center of this man's attention is a very bad place for him to be.

173: Swear Jar

Jeremy winced as the front door slammed open, an angry security guard stomping his way through. "Fucking landlord..." He grumbled, baring his teeth in disgust. Throwing his work bag to the side, he loosened his tie, tossing that on the rack as well. "This rent is bullshit. Bitch knows I'm in debt and she's running me dry."

The brunette looked up from his book, sighing. "Mike-"

"Who the fuck does she think she is? Telling me, out of all the bastards living in this building, that 'I'm' the one whose a loud mouth? Stupid cunt might as well drive her dentures up her ass because the rest of her skull's shoved up there."

"Mike..."

"Talking shit about my truck like it's any of her god damn business. Bloody hell, I'll ram it into her damn office if she doesn't back the fuck off. Who care's where I park it? No body uses that damn parking spot anyway!"

"Mike"

"Old bitch needs to fall over and have a stroke already-"

"Mike"

The guard slammed his fist on the counter, gritting his teeth. Hearing a tiny whimper, a sudden rush of guilt seeped into him. Taking a deep breath, he choked back his anger and turned to the timid nightwatch. "What?"

Jeremy stood before him, holding something in his hands. Mike glanced down, groaning when realization dawned upon him. Smiling, the brunette thrusted the jar towards him. "Swear Jar"

"Fucking...."

"That's another quarter"

174: Pretty Things

Mike rotates the camera in this grip, eyeing the object suspiciously. "So....how exactly do I use this thing?"

Jeremy giggles to his right, wind blowing through his hair. "Well, you're supposed to hold it upright for one." He laughs, Mike's side glare having no effect on him. "The s-sling goes around your neck, and you press the big button to take a picture. That one, o-on the top."

The olderman gives a little 'hmm', quietly following the directions. "Like this?"

"Y-yeah! Now, uh..." Green eyes glanced around. It was a perfect to visit the park, warm moist air blowing through the vivid green of the trees and the lake a warm pink hue, thanks to the late evening hour the sky was casting. Reflections were always picture pretty, right?

Mike raises a brow when the teen straightens the wrinkles out of his t-shirt, a child-like smile on his face as he points towards the open park. "There's lots of nice looking things to t-take picture of here! Just pick one!"

Shrugging, ice eyes scan over the surrounding area. Pigeons, flowers, trees, grass, the lake, the swing set they were sitting on...none of it really caught his eye. I mean, it's all just everyday shit. Honestly couldn't imagine how photographers could make a decent picture out of a dump like this; probably with a huge ass amount filters.

"This is stupid" Mike grumps, "I don't have a good eye for pictures"

Despite the bummer, Jeremy managed an encouraging smile anyways. "You don't need to be an expert to have fun with it." He reassures, "Just pick the prettiest thing you see!"

Mike simply shrugs and points the camera in Jeremy's direction, snapping a photo.

175: Injury

This was going to hurt. This was going to hurt a lot.

There's wire wrapped tightly where the puncture is, right on the shoulder blade. Mike knows the metal is still in there, and he knows it's going to be a bitch to pull out. Not only because it's going to be bloody painful, but not to mention it's curved structure. From his angle, it looked as if it was embedded in the bone.

He really wished it was him who Foxy lept at first, not Jeremy.

The clock is hardly thirty seconds past 6AM, thought the pirate animatronic having sulked back to his hiding place, as well with the other bots, the security guard knows that they're not quite out of the danger zone yet.

Sitting up against the wall, Jeremy has tears running down his face, but he himself unable to cry. No sobbing, no noise, just heavy panting and silent screaming. Maybe the blood pushing it's way up his throat had something to do with it.

Mike crouches down beside him, pupils shrunken and body tense, as if he was the one who was running out of air. The wound wasn't narrow, and he assumed it was deeper than it looked, what with how much red liquid stuck to his hands. There's no time to be sterile, he needed to pull out the rod before it paralyzed Jeremy.

The nightwatch freezes, a silent shriek stuck in his lungs as Mike's fingers brush over the metal, the smallest of vibrations sending his nerves into a fit of withering agony. Wide green eyes stare into blue, knowing. He's scared. He's oh so very scared.

Mike swallows the lump in his throat. Wrapping his palm around the metal, he pulls.

176: Hammer

The carnival is small and local, but it's flashy, colorful, and loud as any other one would be. Mike stands ready at the High Striker, the rubber hammer gripped tightly in his hand. Jeremy stands a few feet behind him, snuggling a huge teddy bear Mike happened to win for him a few minutes earlier. With a giggle, he watches the guard swing the hammer back and slam it down onto the marker.

The ticket keeper puts up a cheerful front as the measurement flies up, hitting the bell. A few people clap in amusement, praise coming from the small of the crowd, Jeremy being one of them. After soaking in his pride, Mike feels a tug on his shirt as the people around them dissipate, off to their own business.

He looks back, blinking at bright green. Jeremy has a huge, hopeful grin on his face. "I wanna try!"

Rolling his shoulders back, Mike puffs out his chest. "Think you can handle it?"

"Y-Yeah!"

"Go for it, then"

He hands the hammer to the smaller male, watching him struggle with it at first. It was heavier than it looked, being made out of rubber and all. But Jeremy managed to lift it anyways.

The ticket keeper spares Mike a suspicious glance as the teen saunters up the the strength test. There's no way this kid is going to get the mark high; it'll probably hurt his fragile ego. Not that he even had one, to begin with.

Mike just smirks and puts a finger to his lips.

177: Joy (Continued)

Barely able to stumble up to the High Striker, Jeremy has to wheeze, pulling air into his lungs as he swings the hammer back, almost falling backward when he shifts forward. With all the feeble strength he could muster, the tool bangs down on the mark.

A bell sounds throughout the air, followed by Jeremy's sqee of joy. "I-I did it! I hit the bell, I'm as strong as you!" He laughed, face lit up in delightful glee. Mike returns the happiness with grin of his own, enveloping the the nightwatch in a snug hug. "Didn't doubt ya for a minute." He chuckled, "Now take back your bear thing, it's giving me the creeps."

Jeremy snatches the stuffed animal back, too caught up with the fluffy bear to see Mike pass the a five to the keeper, giving a sly nod of the head. "Thanks for the rig"

178: Gum

A small wheeze breaks through Jeremy's lips as the comb brushes again, taking a few lost strands of hair with it. Mike hesitates before running it through again, careful to untangle the mess the nightwatch managed to tussle his hair in. One spot is matted up in a bundle, pink goo sticking out of the mess.

Mike ignores Jeremy's whimpers as he works to get it out. "This is why you don't chew gum and nap at the same time, dipshit"

179: Sand

The beach is a lovely place, good for flying kites and soaking in the sun. Tans are not optional, ice cream is a treat and towel littered across the sand bank, water pushing up against the walking couples feet. Swimming isn't really Mike's style, so he settles in the sand instead.

Jeremy's coming back with two double scooped ice cream cones when he find Mike sitting by himself, surrounded by a fully constructed sand castle, with a moat and everything.

The security guard stops him before he comes any closer. "The king demands a sacrifice before passage."

The brunette giggles, gesturing towards the icy treat. Mike's gaze dart down to the cone before returning back again, puffing out his chest in false authority. "Not good enough"

Jeremy pouts, rolling his eyes before stepping over the feeble moat. Blue eyes scan the intruder, looking him up and down. "Sacrifice accepted. You may enter."

180: Dog

There's a scream itching up his throat as he's backed up against the office wall, Mask falling to his feet as Bonnie stumbled through the office. Red led eyes blinked in recognition, locking on target. For a moment, it's still and tense, the only sound being the radiating thump of Jeremy's heartbeat.

Then Bonnie charges, the nightwatch clenching his eyes shut and curling into himself. This was going to be bloody. His eye balls would be torn from his sockets and bone would clash with an endoskeleton. Hell, if he was going to be an animatronic, he hoped he'd at least be stuffed inside his favorite.

He awaits fate, but it never comes. Another decides to take it's place, instead.

Growling echoes down the hall as Bonnie is viciously tackled to the ground, metal teeth and claws tearing at the already withered animatronic. The bunny's reaction is expected, a screech of defense and a poorly executed move to get away, only for the other party to bite the length of his ears and drag him across the tile.

Jeremy doesn't open his eyes, whimpering as the sound of heavy skidding grew fainter. Then silence.

Now there's thumping. Thump. Thump. Thump. Pause. Thump...

Stop. There's something in front of him. Bonnie? Death? No, whatever it was, it's footsteps were too rythmatic to be intentful. It was something else. Something growling.

A cold touch tenderly rest on the nightwatch's forehead, breaking him from his sobs. His heart is beating too hard for him to breath properly, veins pulsating in fear. Even so, he manages to look up from his lap, tears streaming from horrified emerald eyes.

The dog has it's plastic nose resting atop Jeremy's forehead, pitch black eyes scanning over the smaller figure's form. Checking for injury: none. Breathing? Affirmative. Scared? Of course, but that's to be expected.

One it found there was no damage done other than a shaken mentality, those void eyes returned to it's electric blue. The dog's tail began to wag, leaning down to softly nuzzle the nightwatch.

Jeremy could breath again. Taking a well deserved deep breath, he uses one hand to prop himself upwards, the other rising up to glide down the animatronic's neck. It gives a whine of approval as his fingers slide up to it's ears, down it's muzzle and to it's mouth, hovering just around the teeth.

He freezes, half expecting the canine to snap his wrist off. Instead, it sits down, able to fully crane closer to the nightwatch. The action casts a massive shadow over the teen, only the bright blue glow of the animatronic's eyes as the only light source, but Jeremy didn't mind.

"Good boy..." He whispered, air finally seeping back into his lungs. "Thank you"

Mikey's ears tilt upwards in praise, barking in return.

181: Fetch (Continued)

Jeremy's hand is still lingering over his muzzle, Mikey's mouth left open in a pant. At first, the animatronic doesn't quite know what the nightwatch's intentions are, but it didn't matter. It was loyal, after all, and everyone knows that humans have such fragile, thin skin. So the only concern it would have is if he accidentally nicked his fingers.

It's been a long time since Mikey has tasted blood. Don't quite remember who it belonged to, though.

The wagging tails comes to a sudden halt, the dog's endoskeleton locking up in tension. Jeremy's finger reached out a little further, just barley brushing up the cold of his teeth. "Y-You have w-wire....s-stuck in your...mouth" The nightwatch's voice was quiet, was sonic ears could hear the cracking. "...D-don't bite me, ok?"

The dog makes no move, no sound as Jeremy slowly picks out a copper wire from between the razor teeth, dropping it to the side before returning too pluck another. There are shard and pieces of plastic stuck between the endoskeletons teeth that he can only assume belong to Bonnie, or whatever animatronic Mikey happened to spot invading the office on a nightshift.

One more pick and it's done, Jeremy letting out a sigh of relief. "Good boy, Mikey..." He allows a calm smile to spread on his face, a lace of sadness in his eyes. "I wish I could do more..."

The dog merely returns to it's cheerful demeanor, nipping playfully at the brunette's forehead. It barks as it's swatted away, meeting Jeremy's pout with another nuzzle. "I know, I know..." He giggles, "F-fetch, right?"

It's tail thwacks the floor in response. "Alright, after tonight's shift, ok? W-we can use the f-flashlight..."

Jeremy giggles again as Mikey gives an affectionate lick along side his cheek, all fear from before vanished.

182: Lakeside

Mike swings his feet from the edge of the pier, staring off into the waters. It's a clear day, however hot, and Fritz had this 'brilliant' idea to take everyone out for BBQ and dip in the lake, not that Mike would much enjoy the swimming. He was here for the meat, pretty much.

Jeremy, on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. "Why aren't you swimming?!" He yells from across the waters, dipping under the surface before reappearing again. The sight made Mike queasy, to see him dart under the blue where he could no longer be seen. It would make his mind rush; what if Jeremy didn't come back up again?

He shakes his head to rid himself of the idea. Even if it was so, Mike was in no position to be able to save him, not with his lack of ability, that is.

"It's not cold!" Jeremy adds, drifting closer to the security guard. "It feels nice, actually."

Mike shrugs, mummers something under his breath. The brunette tilts his head, hair drooping in front of his eyes due to the weight of the water. "What's wrong? Is it because you c-can't wear a hat?"

The guard hesitates before shaking his head, avoiding eye contact. This only confuses the nightwatch more. "...Then what's wrong?"

Mike bites his lip. "I can't swim"

Instead of the mocking laughter or sympathizing stare he expected, as others have given him, Jeremy simply smiled. "I can't dance, but t-that didn't stop me-"

"Did you forget that I can fucking drown?"

That smile switched to a frown. "That's not what I meant..." Hoisting himself up on the pier, he takes a spot beside the dry guard, wringing the water of of his hair. It was calm, Fritz and such having retreated a bit down the path to prepare the BBQ, so it was no one but them and the fish-

Holy fuck. Mike really wishes there's no fish, he'd have to go yogi bear on that shit if there is.

He inwardly face palms at the thought. Note to self: stop watching old fashion cartoons on Saturdays. His mentality might become a little corrupted if he continued.

"I can teach you"

Mike's eyes graze over from the rippling water to track the droplets trailing down Jeremy's nose. "Teach me?" He scoffed. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

"By following my lead" He watched Jeremy spread a wide, hopeful smile, goosebumps trailing over his skin. He'll blame it on cold water. "You trust me, r-right?"

Blue eyes track him as he settles back into the water, holding out an arm for Mike to take. Breathing in through his nose, the guard runs through his options, none of them seeming convincing enough to convey his answer. Nothing.

He keeps his expression neutral, clenching his fist until his knuckles turned white. "Yeah, I trust you"

"Then take my hand"

The turning tables have taken Mike by surprise, really. But he doesn't have a chance to ponder on the thought. Instead, gathering up all the courage he had and making sure to keep his fears down enough to where the nightwatch could not detect them, Mike leans forward, taking Jeremy's hand and eases into the water.

The next half hour is spent with Jeremy frantically trying to calm a flailing Mike in knee-deep water.

183: Hangover

It was no secret that Mike could down an entire cabinet's worth of alcohol and still be somewhat conscious, save for the occasional slur and face plant ever now and then. But everyone has their limits, and there's a certain point where the brain, no matter how damaged, just stops working and lets the heart take control instead.

This is how Mike ended up spilling everything. No really, fucking everything to Jeremy, whom, thankfully, was convinced that his confessions was nothing more than the rambling of a drunken mind with sleep deprivation on the side. So naturally, he sets Mike up for bed with water and an asprin on the side, brushing off every comment with a half-thought answer.

I hate Fazbears, Mike said, stumbling through the hall.

You're repeating yourself, Jeremy answered, pushing him safely along.

I'm not drunk, Mike slurred, plopping face first on the bed.

Yes you are, Jeremy replied, tucking him into the covers.

I love you, Mike mummered, wanting to pull the brunette down with him.

No you don't, Jeremy sighed, taking his leave.

It's the morning after and Mike can't find it within himself to tell Jeremy that he was sober.

184: Fortune Cookie

Mike breaks open the package seal, cracking open the cookie and pulling out the sliver piece of paper, tossing the actual remains to the side. He scans over the printed words, sneering. "Be weary: The weak will always have the strong on their leash" He quoted, shaking his head. "That doesn't make any sense"

He throws the fortune away, turning to see Jeremy open his. Mike watches shim quickly scan over the paper, raising a brow when the teens face suddenly bloomed an alarming red. "What does it say?"

Jeremy looks up with a startle, quickly ripping the fortune to shreds. "...Nothing." He laughs nervously, crumbling the scraps into the trash. "L-Let's not eat Chinese anymore, o-ok?"

185: Chapters

Let it be known that Jeremy Fitzgerald is the hugest book nerd Mike Schmidt has ever met. Seriously, the little shit can build fort with how many hard covers he earned, isolating himself in his own little world of fictional characters and their adventures.

Mike tried to pull him out of that rift once, only for Jeremy to sink in the couch cushions, book in hand and pelting pillows at him safety from a distance. This kid really had a thing for forts or something.

186: Trade

"You traded your truck in for a motorcycle?"

"Just temporarily. Truck's getting some work done."

"Are you r-really going to drive that to work and back?" Jeremy asked cautiously, watching the man pat his new ride with affection. "It might scare the kids"

Mike grinned, swinging his legs over. "I don't give a damn, I look fucking bad ass on this puppy." He gestures for emphasis. "Check it out, sweet pain job huh?"

Jeremy, having little to no knowledge of motor vehicles much less motorcycles, can only give a assuring nod. "Sure, I guess..."

"Wanna take it for a spin?"

The nightwatch narrows his eyes. "I-is it safe?"

"Probably not, but you can fall on me if shit happens."

"That's not very reassuring"

"Stop being such a killjoy." The security guard gave a low chuckle. "Are you coming or not?"

Tapping his fingers against his pants leg, the brunette went over many outcomes in his head, all worse than the last. Needless to say, he ended up shaking them away and nervously stepping forward, giving a timid nod of the head.

Settling on the back seat, he wraps his arms around the older man's mid-section. There's this funny, churning feeling in his gut that he can't get rid of. So he voices his concern instead. "Promise you'll go slow, ok?"

He receives a devilish grin in return, Mike revving the engine. "No chance."

187: Denial

Mike has spent hours alone in his apartment, the lights dimmed and the night sky raining with him either wandering around aimlessly for something to do or lying opened eyed in his bed hoping to catch even the smallest shot of sleep that night.

He's wasted so many thoughts just hitting punching bags, drinking coffee, night strolling, midnight snacking, kicking piles of laundry over, taking a smoke break, lounging on the couch, and just simply telling himself that there was no way in bloody hell that Mike Schmidt is utterly and irreversibly in love.

It's exactly 2:43 AM when he finally stops lying to himself.

188: Coffee

Jeremy did not drink coffee, he preferred the subtle sweet taste of tea. Or milk, or whatever soothed his throat and calmed his mind when he was parched. He didn't need the extra caffeine anyway.

Mike, on the other hand, like his drinks strong and bitter. No need for weeby creamer or weak sugar, it was go big or go home. And considering how much he drank of the liquid-despite the coffee maker's conspiracy against him-he went pretty big with every gulp.

Though, they both got a different taste one morning when they reached for their identical looking mugs, sitting innocently on the counter until picked up and taken a sip.

Jeremy spit his out first. "This isn't t-tea!" He coughed, tongue out in disgust. He spat the taste back into the cup, gross, but necessary. "D-did you do something to my drink?!"

He turned to glare at the security guard, only to find the older man choking up himself. "What the fuck, Jeremy? You drink this shit?" Mike bent over the sink, spitting out the retched sugar that dipped down into the back of his throat. "That's fucking-" He lurched again. "Sick!"

Jeremy was too busy trying to leech the lingering bitterness out of his mouth to react when Mike stepped over and swiped his cup from the nightwatch, tilting it back and taking a well deserved gulp of coffee.

The sickening sweetness leaves him, and he sighs in relief, leaning against the counter. He takes another sip before directing his attention to the brunette, raising brow at the younger male's horrified look. "What?"

"I spit in that!"

"...So?"

189: Hear Me

Jeremy was going to die and there's nothing Mike can do about it.

He can only listen. It's the one privilege he's allowed.

Banging on the locker room door doesn't help, and for once, Mike wishes the building truly lived up to it's legacy of having no boundaries. His eyes are wet, and he doesn't quite remember when his throat started hurting. Though, it's easy to assume it's with all the shouting and cursing he's been doing.

But he knows Jeremy well enough that the nightwatch was not going to open that door.

Which animatronic trapped him in there again? BonBon? Freddy? Mangle? Did it matter? No, it didn't. Jeremy was going to be stuffed either way-

No, think back to a few minutes before; everything is fine. The animatronics are far from them. The shift is running smoothly. The tablet glitches. Panic. Can't use the remote. The music box stops. The Marionette. Running.

Everything is rewriting itself in Mike's head so quickly it might as well fry whatever little sanity he had left.

Jeremy, curse him, made the split decision to break off from his co-worker, skidding into the locker room with the puppet on his heels and bolting the door behind him. He was terrified, he didn't want to die. And certainly not by the means of a haunted doll. The thought of his neck snapping as it's shoved into a suit wasn't helping either, and by all means, Jeremy wishes it's painless.

Mike doesn't care if an animatronic finds him. If he had the strength, he'd kick the door down; rush in and tear that puppet from stitch to stitch. But even his knees are getting weak at this point, sounds of objects crashing to the ground coming from inside the room.

He can feel a Blank in the corner of his mind, but he doesn't care. It's not like he was going to last much longer with out Jeremy anyway.

A scream sounds from the other side of the door and Mike stops, listening. It's quiet.

190: Zoo

Jeremy's eyes widened in horror as Mike gave a devious smirk, jumping over the fence. "Mike! You c-can't be in there! You'll get in t-trouble!" He called out, trying to usher the security guard back over the boundary. "You could get hurt!"

The older man chuckles, a wide grin on his face as he sauntered up to the animal. "What? It's just a dumb turtle. Don't see why the Zoo keeps in such a huge enclosment anyway." He skips up to it, meeting its swampy glare with a mischievous one of his own. "Calm your tits, Jeremy, I'm just gonna poke it's shell. Bet it won't feel a thi-FUCK!"

Watching the chaos unfold, Jeremy quietly face palmed from the sidelines. "It's a snapping turtle, Mike!"

191: Frying Pan

There will nothing more warmly embarrassingly for Jeremy than the moment when Mike walked through his front door unannounced and caught him off guard, forcing him to reflexively throw whatever object he had in his hands at the time towards the intruder.

Fear flashes across Mike's faces, shutting the door just in time for the frying pan to slam into it, leaving a splintering dent in the wood where his head would have been.

192: Pocky

Mike twiddle the cream stick between his fingers, eyeing it with uninterest. "Lame"

"It's chocolate," Jeremy adds, sticking one piece between his teeth. "If you d-don't like that flavor, I think I have some strawberry ones left..."

The olderman eyes, eyes flicking to stare intently at the pink covered treat. The nightwatch didn't chew it up right away, damn him, instead, letting it sit between his lips whist he scanned over the Fazbear's inventory. Another boring responsibility management thrusted upon them, though, it wasn't was occupied the security guard's mind at the moment.

Suddenly, he cranes down, biting the other end of the stick and sliding upwards. If Jeremy had caught his bearing in time, he might have backed away. But the realization doesn't hit him until he tastes something other than strawberry on his tongue.

One flavorful kiss later and Mike straightens his posture, licking his lips. He ignores the nightwatch's beet red skin and sticks his own pocky into his mouth, raising a brow. "What?" He questions, "Wanna try mine?"

193: Child

Mike is an asshole all round, no doubt about it. But Jeremy knows he's one of the few who's seen that's not always true, even if Mr. Tough Guy didn't want to admit it.

He clocks in at Fazbear's one early after noon to pick up some paperwork. A favor for Fritz, he remembers. When he turns the corner into one of the main party rooms, a smile dawns on his face when he spots a certain security guard, roaming around his post just as usual.

Jeremy's about to walk up to him when he pauses, watching a little girl tug on the ends of Mike's sleeves.

He can't hear them, they're too far away, but judging from the guard's facial expression; the girl was being an annoyance. Or snotty. Or both. Or maybe it was just Mike's usual grump. Either way, the conversation didn't look like it was going anywhere.

He has second thoughts when he finally looks her over: One of her pigtails is undone and her shoe is off, held in her tiny little hands. It's not surprising; kid's her age were known to play rough and get a bit disheveled, but this one looked like she had too many rounds in the ball pit.

But what surprised him the most was when Mike's glare softened, crouching down to the child's eye level. He watches him slip the knot out of her hair, fixing her pigtail before slipping on her shoe and tieing her laces. The girl waits patiently as the man digs in his pocket, pulling out what looked to be a Fazbear merchandised band-aid.

Mike pulls off the wrapper and sticks it to her knee, covering some boo-boo that Jeremy couldn't see at his angle. Satisfied, he stands up and shoos her away, only for the girl to give a wide, gleeful smile and latch herself to his leg. His reaction is expected; gently shaking her off and ushering her back to the play pen, crossing his arms as she bolts off in the opposite direction.

Mike hears a soft cough from behind him and turns his head; his face dropping when his gazes meets a smug, grinning Jeremy.

194: Twisted Ankle

"Y-You can put me down now, you know..."

"No"

"Please? It's embarrassing..."

"Nope"

"Mike, there are p-people s-staring at us..."

Keeping a good grip on the injured teen, Mike swivels his head to see a few figures blink awkwardly and look away. One man kept his stare, looking them up and down with disapproval. To which, the security guard simply bared his teeth and growled. "Do we have a fucking issue?"

He nods to himself when the man steps back, shuffling away from the pair. Jeremy, on the other hand, buried his hands into his face, wishing he didn't feel so weightless. "That was rude"

"It was rude to stare"

"They have a r-reason to stare!"

195: Third Wheel

He knows he shouldn't be feeling this way, not with their circumstances. Not to mention if he tried to confront any one about it, it would only make the situation a lot more awkward.

So he remains silent as Fritz and Mike continue their conversation, words of choice ranging from the animatronics hostile severity to what they had for dinner the night before. Jeremy can hardly input a say in, his opinion on the subject taking a sudden topic change or simply drowned out by the two's talking. It's frustrating, to say the least.

He's been inwardly hissing to himself for the past ten minutes, and he doesn't realize his body language has slowly becoming more and more clingy until Fritz happens to glance over Mike's shoulder, stifling a laugh. "I think your cat's getting jealous, bro."

196: Telephone

"So, you good for tonight?"

Jeremy nodded, already flicking through the cameras. It's force of habit, really, seeing as how the clock hasn't even hit midnight. "I'll be fine, Mike. Go home. You need the sleep."

Mike presses his lips into a thin line, wanting to protest, but a voice in the back of his head vouches that the bags under his eyes already speak for him. Running a hand down his face, he shrugs, tossing his dufflebag over his shoulder and sauntering out of the office. He throws a half-hearted wave before disappearing. "Fine. Text me if shit happens."

"Nothing will happen, I'll be fine" Jeremy reassures. "Good night!"

He hears a mumbled reply in the darkness before the sound of the front door slamming echoes down the hall, only the tick of the clock to fill the left over silence.

Before long, that click is interrupted by a sharp ring. Jeremy blinks, attention darting to the phone sitting innocently on the desk. Strange, it was much too early for Scott to be calling him. Maybe something else came up?

Without hesitation, he picks up the call and positions it between his shoulder and ear, eyes glued to the tablet screen. "Hello-?"

"Are you two dating?"

Jeremy froze, mind going blank in surprise. "Scott?" He cautiously voiced, "W-why are you asking? It's uh, r-really early to be calling" He glances at the clock at the thought, the phone's original question coming to mind. "No, we're not dating."

The phone goes silent. Someone in the pizzeria, there's a golden ghost, baffled to the core of his being and honestly flaming with disbelief.

After a moment of quiet, Jeremy hears him speak up again. "...Are you sure?"

197: Stars

"Do you see that one?" The brunette giggles, pointing up towards the flushed night sky. With his other hand, he bats Mike's arm to make sure the guard was paying attention, the both of them laying back on the grass. "Mom said that one was mine. That when I grew up, I could name it whatever I wanted!"

While emerald eyes stare up in child-like awe, icy blue remain dull. "I don't the big idea of naming a star after someone. It's useless, nobody cares about them anyway."

He closes his eyes, falling into relaxation. Due to this, he misses Jeremy's disapproving pout. "Well, w-what if I named it after you?"

One eye peeked open. "You wouldn't"

"I can"

"But you won't"

"I am" Jeremy giggles. "It's yours now"

Mike continues to glare, eyes glowing in the dim light. The corners of his mouth tug upwards involuntarily, and he has to bite his tongue to prevent the smile from spreading. "Fine," He huffs, determined to best the nightwatch.

Sitting up, he throws his hands outwards. "You see this stupid shit?" He gestures again for good measure, arms extending past himself. "It's yours, as long as you promise not to break it."

Jeremy laughs, a smile imprinted on his cheeks. "You can't just give out the entire sky," He giggles, "You can't break it either."

"I wasn't talking about the stars."

198: Unfortunate Meeting

Skipping up the apartment's front steps, Jeremy let's his fist hover over Mike's door, ready to knock when he comes to a halt. Something's wrong.

Against his better judgment, he gently takes hold of the doorknob and turns it, allowing himself inside. Mike should have heard him somehow, no matter how quiet he was. The man's senses were quite keen for someone with brain damage, not that he cared to emphasis it.

Surprised to find the lights on-since Mike usually kept his place so dim-he turns the corner into the first room accessible: the living room. What he walks in on is something he doesn't know how to feel about.

Mike's nose is bleeding, a sneer on his face and knuckles bloody. There's another in the room with him, his back facing the nightwatch, giving no clear view of his face. But judging from how he was hunched over, he was just as aggressive and in bad of a shape as the other man himself.

The gray haired man doesn't seem to notice him, The security guard, however, spots the teen right away, his snarl dropping and eyes going wide, a sudden look fear flashing across his face. "Jeremy?" He breaths, eyes darting from the stranger to the brunette. "What the hell are you doing here?"

With the spotlight changing, Jeremy feels a hitch in his chest as the stranger turns to face him, now aware of his presence. His nose is bleeding as well, crooked as if it was freshly broken. He dawns a split lip through his five o' clock shadow, which raises in a uncomfortably familiar smirk as his gaze lands upon the teen.

What frightens Jeremy the most is that he shared the same piercing ice eyes as Mike had. "You didn't tell me you were expecting company, son." The man speaks, his voice a deep, durling pitch.

It flows into a low chuckle as he spies the panic on Mike's features, the brunette looking akin to a doe caught in the headlights. Mike's father raises a slit brow, expectant. "Well? Aren't you going to introduce me to your little friend?"

199: Cling

Mike has this terrible habit of latching onto whatever was closest to him after waking from a horrifying nightmare, and either strangling it until his knuckles turned white or holding it close and catching his breath, afraid that if he let go, he'd fall back asleep.

Someone down the time line, the pillows were replaced by a tuft of
brown hair and mossy eyes. For once during the night, whatever Mike held on to actually held back.

200: Marry Me

"Please d-don't do this to me..." Jeremy begged, voice cracking between sobs. "Y-You can't do this to me! P-please, Mike, you can't g-go like this...please..."

He cradled the older man's face, letting his head rest on his lap. The floor was covered in bits of metal and wire, blood lining every piece as it littered across the tile. To make matters worse; there were still splinters of metal sticking inside of the security guard's skin that he knew would only make the bleeding worse if he tried to pull them out. So he endured.

A sickening vile of crimson burned his throat, pushing it's way out of his lung capacity and behind his teeth. Leaning over at the last second, Mike spits out a mouthful of fluid, it splattering across the checkered ground. There's more shrieking from Jeremy, but the air is so fuzzy around him that he can't quite make out the words.

Even through the pain, he manages a sad grin. "Oh...fuck me..." He gives a raspy laugh, chest heaving from forced breathing. "I really fucked up this time, didn't I?"

A droplet of something plops on his face and he can only assume Jeremy is crying, which didn't surprise him, since the teen's panicked stutterers was an obvious sign enough. "Y-You didn't do anything wrong, o-ok?" The nightwatch reassures, hardly able to breath himself. "I-I c-called the ambulance, they're on their w-way..."

Mike's face is covered in blood, still dripping from the scars lining his skull. Yet, the all familiar smirk he's adopted still appears, and it make's Jeremy sick. "I know. You did a good job tonight, Jeremy."

"Oh god, please d-don't say that..." The nightwatch wheezes, throat raw and cheeks wet. He tenderly clutches the dying guard closer, whispering soft apologies against his forehead, regardless of blood getting on his lips. "Don't talk to me l-like you're n-not going to s-see me again!"

"You've always been a good kid, you know that?" Mike continues, his tone strained but the smile still remained. Death was calming, he realized. Wonder what it will feel like when it consumes him completely, that is, if he feels at all. "I'm really going to miss you"

"Mike, please!"

"None of this is your fault, ok? You need to remember that."

"S-stop talking like that! Stop it!"

"Promise me you won't add my name tag to the collection in the locker, alright? Just...get rid of it. Throw it away, I don't care. Just pretend like I never happened, if you want."

"I won't do that! Y-You're not going to d-die, stop acting l-like you are-!"

"Don't wreck my truck when I'm gone. I mean, don't let that bitch of a landlord tow it either, just take it slow, ok? Wear your seat belt, too. The last thing I want is for you to look as shitty as I do right now."

"I'm n-not going to do that! Y-you're supposed to t-teach me how to p-parrell park this w-weekend, remember? You promised!"

"I need you to do one last thing for me..." Mike's smile never fades, his eyes are just getting more and more dull with each passing heartbeat. "...Take my watch off for a sec, will ya?"

Sputtering and lost for words, Jeremy can only nod. Shifting so the guard's dead weigh is cradles by on arm, he pulls the man's wrist upward, whispering a soft sorry when Mike emits a grunt of pain. A shard must still be embedded in his shoulder, perhaps.

Unclasping the restraints, the watch unfolds around his wrist, now held in trembling, cold hands. "...N-n-now what?"

"Wear it. Just for tonight."

"....B-but it's y-yours..."

"Not anymore."

Fingers curl around the watch so tightly, it threatens to break the gears. "You can't do this to me..." Tears speed down his skin and into his open mouth, stuck in a silent cry. "You can't...do this..."

"You're repeating yourself."

"Because you're lying!"

Mike bites his tongue, watching the brunette slowly break. It hurt, to see him like this. Maybe even worse than the wires springing out of his spine. How he managed to survive the first layer of a suit is beyond him, but it's quite clear that he wasn't going to last much longer.

The thought of his incoming demise brings him to groan. He had so much to say, but time was running out.

Yet, there's something he can't shake off. You know that really high feeling when you blood is pumping fast, when your faced with something horrifying or a deadline way past your ability? That heart racing, vein pulsing, mind consuming high you get when you know something's coming your way, and there's nothing that can be done to stop it.

Mike understands that feeling, especially when it starts to seep into his being and tingle through his nerves, bones going cold and skin burning with his damaged flesh and red stained teeth. It's nothing, he thinks. He's had headaches worse than this.

It still doesn't stop the laughter from rising through his rough trout. "I'm going to die, Jeremy" He grins. "And I'm going to miss you so fucking much."

The nightwatch's voice have given up on him already, reducing his shrieks and pleadings to nothing more but empty whispers. With what feels to be a needle in his chest and a rock in his lungs, Jeremy's tries to restrain his convulsing, slowly but surely losing himself.

"I'll do anything" He begs, "I'll do everything if y-you promise to hang on a little l-longer until the a-ambulance gets here...just breath for me, p-please...d-don't close your eyes, don't t-tune me out just...just...live. Please."

Mike's smile is long gone by now, the gravity of the offer weighing down on his conscious. "...Anything?" Without a word, Jeremy confirms with a nod.

They fall into silence with nothing more than Jeremy's quiet crying to substitute. There's so much to say, so much that wants to be said, and yet, no matter the life to death situation they've found themselves in, the words refuse to form. So Mike settles for the alternative:

"Would you marry me?"

Jeremy looks up from his tears with red-rimmed eyes and blurry vision. "M-Marry...you?"

"If by some chance that hell freezes over and I live through this, would you marry me, Jeremy?" Mike's breathing has become labored, but it's warm all the same. "If I live, that is."

Air was non-existent by now, not like the nightwatch was going to be able to use it anyway. Body shaking and goosebumps trailing over his skin, Jeremy leans down and presses his bloodied mouth to Mike's scars, a soft kiss for each stitch. "I'll marry you...but only if you promise not to die."

Mike smiles, feeling soft browns locks brush against his cheeks. "Promise."

He stops breathing.

It's exactly two weeks, three days, seven hours, forty six minutes and twenty three seconds since the paramedics rushed into Fazbear's Pizza and had to forcibly remove a screaming teen from the body of a nineteen year old male.

The newspaper never hears of it, not when Fazbear entertainment's got them under their thumb.

Still, Jeremy wonders if there would have been a uproar of suspicion had the press been able to weasel a story out of him. Management offered to pay for all hospital and in-care cost, though it was obvious it was to avoid a law suit. Jeremy denies him, anyway.

Mike's room is really cold.

It's as messy as it's always been. He doesn't have the will to alter a single detail, the bed sheets being the only thing to be touched out of the entire apartment. The smell hasn't changed either, still retaining it's smokey, wet laundry smell that the guard always kept it. He liked it that way, Jeremy remembers.

The room is really cold, but Mike himself is warm.

"Do you remember that promise you made me a couple weeks ago?" He hums, fingers twirling in the nightwatch's hair. "You know, when I was dying and stuff?"

To hear the guard talk so causally about the event sent a shiver down the nightwatch's spine. So naturally, he snuggles closer into Mike's chest. "...Not really. I don't remember much of what happened that night." It's not a lie. His memory of that night is a blur of screaming and blood. Not a memory he wants to revisit.

"Why?" Jeremy questions, emerald gazing upwards. "Was it important?"

"Yes. Very important"

"What was it then?"

Mike dawns his signature grin, fingers running down the brunette's neck to ruffle his hair further. "I'll tell you in the morning. Get some sleep."

"T-Tell me!"

"You still wearing my watch I gave you?"

Jeremy blinked, feeling the red leather still wrapped around his wrist. "Yes..."

"Good. Don't take it off."

Jeremy raised a brow, wondering as to why it was oh-so-important he doesn't remove the accessory. He doesn't know the story behind it, Mike having never told him. The guard took pride in it, however. It made a decent substitute until he could pick out a ring. Not like Jeremy needed to know that detail.

The vague answer isn't what the nightwatch wanted to hear, but he'll have to take it anyway. Besides, it's getting late; his eyes are drooping and his limbs are starting to feel a bit sleep numbed. Yawning into the older man's shirt, he mumbles something with timid breath as he drifts off to sleep. "Please don't leave me."

Mike curls around him, tucking the cover up around their bodies. "I'm not going anywhere."

--

trololololololololol

It's 2:41 AM and I haven't slept and I have to get on a bus at 5 and I regret nothing.