Chapter Text
“Montgomery Gator I need to open this goddamn cafe in twenty minutes and you are making my life difficult. If you don’t-“
“If I don't, what?” Monty was sitting on the bar, his massive metal tail draped over the stack of boxes I’d brought up to restock before open. He grinned smugly down at me. “I’m just sitting here.”
I scowled up at him. “I need those syrup bottles, Monty. Your giant stupid tail is preventing me from getting to them.”
“Is it?” He did not move.
“I will tear out your… hard drive, or whatever it is that makes you guys run. I’ll do it. And I’ll sell it on eBay!”
My threats were to no avail. I had to open around Monty, dodging the occasional attempt to snatch me by the waist and dangle me in the air. I cursed myself for not being meaner to him that first day we’d met; since I’d accepted his apology, he’d been nothing but a nuisance.
“Say,” Monty started, ten minutes before open. “How come yer not a manager? Ya run this place on yer own.” Finally, he swished his tail to the other side, freeing up my syrup bottles.
“Managers make more money. That’s the biggest reason.” I began unloading, frowning at my fazwatch. “Also I think managers almost exclusively work down at corporate, so they’re never here. They only ever come down to bother us and make up problems to try and seem essential to the program.” I turned and pointed a stern finger at Monty. “You did not hear any of this from me, got it?”
“Hey, I can keep a secret!” Monty jumped down from the counter as I stacked the flattened boxes. “Least they could do is give ya a raise. Aint ya tired, all the time?”
“Nah. I just fall asleep at 7, like an old person.” Monty followed me as I ducked into a maintenance tunnel, gingerly placing the boxes onto a massive pile of cardboard. “Jeez. Do we ever take out the garbage in this place?”
“That’s Valerie’s job, but she only gets to it once a week she’s so busy!” Both I and Monty jumped at the sudden, cheerful chirp coming from further down the tunnel. Chica waved, expression bright. “Hey you two! Monty.” Her tone flattened, and she glared, hands on her hips. “You’re not harassing them, are you?”
“‘A course not. Wouldn’t wanna piss off yer favorite lobby décor.” I whacked Monty on the snout with a piece of cardboard. “Oy!”
“Glad you two are getting along,” Chica said, and though her beak prevented a smirk I could hear it in her voice.
“Yeah, right.” I put the cardboard back in the pile. “Best friends.” Monty’s tail curled around behind me, scooting me closer to him, and I glared up.
Chica shot me a knowing look that made my face flush. “Wellllllll anyway, I was totally looking for you, barista.” She spun and made a pose. “I’d like to cordially invite you to come to my concert this afternoon!”
“ Our concert,” Monty grumbled, and his tail pulled me even closer, so my shoulder bumped into his chest. I frowned at him, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Chica waved her hand dismissively.
“Yeah, yeah. Freddy’s concert. Whatever. But more importantly, I’m inviting them. So they’ll be coming to see me!” Chica winked at me, and I suddenly felt like I was out of the loop on something. “Right?”
“Nuh uh. No way.” Monty was growling now, and I felt my hands start to shake, in spite of myself. “How come ya get ta just swoop in like that, huh?”
“Snooze ya loose, gator.”
“Bullshit!” Monty’s tail finally spun back up, freeing me, but I only got a second of escape before he turned to me. “Yer gonna go to the concert to see me , right?”
“I, uh, would have to get tickets,” I mumbled, pinned in place by the intensity of his stare. “Also, guys, I need to-“
Monty’s chest hatch opened with a CLANG, startling me as Chica whipped out a piece of foil paper.
“Oh no you don’t, you wet lizard!” She declared, lunging.
Monty roared.
My fazwatch beeped with a call from management.
“Shit!”
# #
“Monty and Chica got in trouble, not me,” I lamented. “Daia scolded them a bunch and basically grounded them. I feel so bad.”
“First of all, it is quite literally their faults, not yours.” Amber was screwing a panel back onto a staffbot. “Second, you’re lucky it was Daia. She’s actually cool, for being the Head Manager.” She was right- most of the managers would have at least written me up, but I got off scott-free. “Besides, it’s not like they do much besides dick around the pizzaplex anyway.”
“Which is fucked up. Like, ethically. They’re basically people.”
“Tell that to Fazbear Entertainment.” Amber smiled at me. “You’re right, though. Which is why it’s a good thing Daia holds them accountable for keeping our only barista from working the coffee shop.”
I still felt bad, though. Chica had looked so dejected. I’d caught Monty looking at me right as they were being escorted back to the green rooms, but he’d turned away as soon as I caught his gaze.
Amber gave the staff bot a solid pat on the chest, and it perked back up, running through a diagnostic set to make sure all it’s limbs still moved. “Look, kid-”
“We’re the same age.”
“-there’s not much you can do. Like it or not, half of the Fazbear band is in timeout for the rest of the week. Just be glad it's Thursday.”
I sighed dramatically, brushing metal shavings off the newly-repaired staffbot. It shuddered to life, then waved jubilantly. I smiled despite myself, giving a small finger wave back. “Maybe I’ll go check in with them. See if there’s anything I can do?”
“If you really want to,” Amber said, unconvinced. Then she grinned. “You care about these damn robots way too much for your own good, you know. You’re gonna get hurt when something happens you have no control over.”
# #
I got lost again, trying to find Rockstar Row. The Pizzaplex was massive, and even using staff tunnels as shortcuts, I got easily turned around. So instead of green rooms, right now I was staring up at the entrance to Gator Golf.
“Well,” I muttered, “there should be somebody in here who knows the way.”
I marched forward with determination, dodging children running around and dangerously waving around rented golf clubs. The lighting here was a moody dark, and there were water hazards everywhere, with robot alligators occasionally rising up to hiss and scare customers. It was all a very fake version of the Floridian swamps Monty was meant to be “from”. The fake plants were tacky in a fun way, though, and I debated seeing if Amber knew of a spare prop room anywhere I could “borrow” from.
Squinting through the mists was beginning to make my head hurt, though. By the time I found another staff member - a blue-haired teen who was getting paid to watch a speedrun stream - I was losing steam and regretting even bothering to begin with. I waved her down, trying to be polite. She greeted me with an eyebrow raise. “FazPad? What’s up?”
“Hi! Actually, I- this is super embarrassing- I was wondering if you could give me directions to Rockstar Row?”
Her eyebrows both shot up this time, and she shifted to a proper standing position. “Green rooms? Are you looking for someone? I didn’t think anything up here was your area.” Chloe (name tag!) turned off her phone, and handed a waiting kid a golf club.
“Amber from Parts asked me to… bring her Monty. He’s, uh, due for something?” I lied because I was realizing that the truth was very embarrassing. Why was I so concerned about an animatronic, let alone one who’d been a jerk to me just a week earlier? “She sent me because she says he never listens to her.”
“He never listens to anybody ,” Chloe snorted. “He’s not in his green room, though. Motherfucker skipped the show again, since he’s brooding in time-out. Honestly, he’s probably up in the catwalks here.”
“The catwalks?”
“He likes to look down on others, I dunno. You’re in for trouble, bestie, that bitch is uncooperative as hell.” She grinned at another kid, accepting a gift certificate. “Entrance to the catwalk’s over there, if you’re determined to try. Good luck.”
“Oh. Um, thanks.” She waved as I turned, ducking into a staff exit and climbing up dodgy stairs. Is everything here a safety hazard? They lead back out, now overlooking the whole gold course, and Chloe gave me a salute from her spot below. I snickered, and saluted back, before beginning my crawl around the crisscrossing metal paths.
Monty wasn’t hard to find, leaning on a railway not far from where I entered. He was hidden from the ground by large plywood decorations, and looked up at the creaking of metal as I walked up. The awkwardness was back, along with the fluttering in my chest; I was starting to blush again. “Hey, Monty,” I tried.
“Cher,” he replied, and there was no teasing this time, just… sullenness. I frowned up at him.
“Hey. I, uh, wanted to apologize for getting you and-“ I thought better last minute of bringing Chica into the conversation, even though she’d been half of the altercation. “-getting you in trouble. Amber told me you’re sort of grounded?”
Monty snorted, and didn’t answer; he just turned to lean his back on the railing, fully facing me. The silence lasted just long enough that I began shuffling awkwardly, wondering if I’d been better off leaving him be.
“Yknow, Cher,” he began, startling me into looking back at him. “You really need to stop apologizin’ for things that ain’t yer fault.”
My face was already hot, and I felt my stomach swirl in sudden anxiety at the low drone of his voice. His tone was similar to how he’d talked before, when I’d first bumped into him in the hallway, but there was a slight shift that I couldn’t place. It made me nervous, in a way I couldn’t define, and I felt off-balance.
“‘S not a huge deal. Whatever,” he continued, waving his clawed hand flippantly. “I do admire you finding me up here, though. Figured you’d look for me in my room.”
“Oh. I actually meant to.” I tugged at the hem of the out-of-season Daycare sweatshirt I was wearing. “I got lost.”
At that Monty actually flipped his sunglasses up to stare at me, metal eyes half-lidded, an amused smirk sliding onto his face. “Really. Got lost?”
My face was on fire. “Yeah. I’m not usually back here. Running the FazPad, and all that.”
Monty threw his head back and guffawed, rattling the catwalks with the noise of his voice box. “Damn, cher! You’re somethin’ else, huh?” I crossed my arms, ignoring the fluttering in my chest and trying to look annoyed. As he calmed, he looked down at me, still snickering. “What? Ya want me to hold yer hand and show ya ‘round?” His tail curled back around me, the way it hand down in the staff tunnels.
“I’m perfectly capable of asking for help when I need it,” I blustered, mock-flipping hair over my shoulder. “It’s how I found you up here in the first place.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Monty’s shades were still off, so I could watch their movements, fascinated by the way his eyes seemed to have a perpetual lazy droop to them, despite being the exact same parts as Chica’s, who always looked so alert. “I bet.” Behind me, the tip of his tail was wagging; I could hear it click back and forth.
I went to take a step back, but the artificial fog throughout the golf course had made condensation form on the cool metal of the catwalks. With a gasp I slipped, having only a brief sensation of falling back before I was scooped up by a pair of strong metal arms in a scene I was starting to become all too familiar with. Monty hefted me up, curling me up into his chest. With dawning mortification I realized he was holding me bridal style, and had begun laughing at me again.
“Yknow, babe,” he drawled, shifting me to one arm and using his free hand to put his shades back on, “we really need ‘ta stop meetin’ like this.”
I was so embarrassed, all I could do in response was bury my face in my hands, letting out a distressed squeak. That only made Monty laugh more. I must’ve looked suitably pathetic, though, because he tipped his arm, letting me slide back onto two feet. As soon as I was standing I grabbed the railing, my palms sweaty and shaky and truthfully not of much use; but I refused to give him any more chances.
“Thanks for the catch,” I sputtered, needing an out. “I should- ah- I meant to catch Chica, too. I should go find her.”
Monty’s shoulders slumped just a little, and his tail curled back around, this time close enough to bump the back of my non-slips. “Aw. Gonna go apologize to her, too?” He was trying to tease, but there was less heat to it this time.
Smiling apologetically up at him, nodding, I began scooting back down toward the stairs. “Yeah. It’s only fair I come talk to you both, right?”
“Right.” He didn’t follow, just watching me creep down the catwalks. But then he perked up a bit. “See ya ‘round?”
“You know where to find me!” I was finally back in the doorway, giving Monty one last wave goodbye. He waved back.
As soon as I was back on solid ground, I collapsed against the wall, willing my heart rate to go down. I was so warm I could’ve passed as having a fever. All I could think of, over and over, was Monty cradling me in his arms, and how warm he was. I’d expected robots to be cold - and I’d never paid attention until now. But his chest had been warm, thrumming with life underneath it, wires and circuit boards and machinery all contained within a metal body.
It was maddening. I wanted to press my face against it, to see how it rattled my skull.
“I need a vacation,” I muttered, finally pushing myself back upright. “Or a new job.”