Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Balling up your fists, you turn heel and exit the security guard station. Stupid, stupid Vannessa… Oh, she makes your blood boil sometimes. Why on earth she would accuse you of that is beyond you. It’s simply not true! Seriously, you having “a crush on that aggravating daycare animatronic” (her words, not yours) is just ridiculous. 

You scoff to yourself as you make your way to the daycare center. She has no idea what she’s talking about. There’s no way. 

Vannessa aside, you do like your job. At first, you had thought working in the daycare with Sun and Moon all day, entertaining rowdy kids and dealing with horrible parents would be a complete nightmare. But, honestly, it really isn’t that bad. 

You have the afternoon shift today (and thank god, you really hate waking at the butt-ass crack of dawn to work with kids who are way too rambunctious for seven in the morning). After that annoying conversation with Vannessa, you decide to put it out of your mind and focus on just doing your job. 

Opening the doors to the daycare, you’re far from surprised to see a hoard of kids already there, some running around the playpens or diving into the ball pit. But most of them are gathered around one of the tiny tables meant for small bodies and definitely not adults (you’ve been dragged to sit over there by one too many kids), all coloring with Sun. There’s a huge pile of paper, markers, paint, glitter glue, and anything else these kids might need for their spectacular art projects. 

When Sun looks up from the table and sees you, it’s almost as if his eyes light up. He’s jumping up from the table and skipping up to you, radiating joy as he quickly wraps metal arms around your waist and lifts you up into a crushing hug, spinning around with you. 

“Oh, goodie, you’re here!” he cheers, his unmoving faceplate grinning down at you all the while. It only takes a moment for him to let go and set you gently on the ground, but your head is still spinning and you stumble, leaning onto him for support. 

“Hey, Sunny…” you greet weakly, holding your head with a laugh. “Didn’t I tell you not to do that?”

Immediately, the Sun’s hands are reaching, grabbing, making sure you’re okay in a guilty frenzy. “I– I’m SO SORRY, friend! Are you alright? I didn’t mean to, promise, promise!” Sometimes, you want to ask the people who developed his AI what the hell they were thinking to make him so anxious. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure him, patting his shoulder. It isn’t his fault, really, you know that. And you kind of don’t mind, aside from the headache. 

Seeming to be relieved by that, you’re sure Sun would sigh in relief if he actually breathed. “Come, come, come draw with us! We’re just having such FUN, isn’t that right, friends?” he says excitedly, his anxiety immediately melting away. The many children all coloring at the table chime in agreement, raising up their drawings for him to see and demanding his attention. “Yes, these look so wonderful! We’ll have to hang them up so EVERYONE can see!” 

“Ohhh, what were you drawing, Mr. Sunnydrop?” one of the kids asks, reaching across the table for the paper Sun was doodling on. It seems to catch him off guard, the animatronic spinning around on his heel animatedly to turn to the child, holding out his arms almost defensively. 

“O-OH, NO, nothing, really! Just pointless doodles, no need to look! Here, friend, give it here!”

His voice box seems to skip as he rambles, reaching towards the kid who already has the paper in his hands. Little eyes scan the paper before he’s giggling and shoving it in the faces of the other kids around the table. Sun’s hand raises to his unmoving mouth as if he’s chewing his fingernails. 

The Sun’s nervousness is certainly strange. You raise an eyebrow at him as more kids join the little group, seeming to have their interests piqued by the commotion Sun’s boisterous voice caused. 

Various cooing and “awww”s flood your ears as the drawing is quickly passed around, too quick for Sun to succeed in any of his endeavors to grab it. 

“Little friends, PLEASE. You’ve had your fun, let’s give it back to Sun now, yes, give it back!” he tries worryingly, his shoulders slouching as the kids don’t relent. 

Eventually, you become frustrated enough with the kids to step in. “Hey, guys,” you say, not mean but firm enough for them to stop and look at you. “That’s enough, look at Sunny. You’re hurting his feelings.” The hoard of kids all as one turn their heads to a defeated Sun, small murmurs coming from them before the one with the picture in their hand somewhat guiltily reaches over and hands it over to you. You thank them. 

But as you look at the drawing that has Sun so worked up, you can’t help but snort. It’s poorly drawn, though that’s most likely Sun’s programming as to not outdo the kids’ art skills, but it’s very clearly you and him holding hands in a field of flowers. There are hearts surrounding you both, and his name is messily scrawled in the bottom corner. 

Honestly? It’s just adorable. 

“Sunny,” you say with a laugh, handing him back the drawing. He holds it tightly to his chest as if the entire daycare hasn’t already seen it. “It’s cute! There’s no reason to be nervous.”

“No, no, I’m not nervous! That’s— It’s not—“ 

Oh boy. Quickly, your arm is around the animatronic in an attempt to calm him. “We all think it looks great, don’t worry! You drew us really well,” you tell him. 

Like a flip has been switched, Sun brightens up, glancing at you excitedly. “Really? I’m SO glad you think so, Sunshine!” he practically shouts, his arms wrapping around you. Aaaand you’re being lifted again. As if you weigh nothing, Sun brings your feet off the ground, happily swaying side to side for a moment. Despite the pain in your head, it’s a relief to see him back to himself. 

Of course, the kids are still watching all the while, most staring or laughing at the display. 

“They’re in loooove!” you hear one of them say as you’re lowered to the ground, met with two dozen stares. 

“You guys act like my mommy and daddy.” 

“Are you married?!”

You blanch, giving Sun a worried glance, fearful he’ll grow anxious again. “No, we’re not,” you quickly tell the child. Not like that would ever work between a human and a robot, anyway… Oh. Now you think you see where Vannessa was going with her assumptions. (Which are still not true.)

“Well, you should be!”

“Oh, let’s have a wedding!”

God, why did you decide to work with kids again?

You look to Sun for help, hoping for him to diffuse the situation. The kids can be quite the handful sometimes, there’s no way you’d be able to do this job without his help. But instead, he looks just as elated as the kids, jumping side to side in excitement. 

Sun, the backstabber, absolutely does not come to your aid. “That’s a WONDERFUL idea, friends! What do you think, Sunshine? Doesn’t that sound like so SO much FUN?”

No. It sounds like a nightmare the second Vanessa hears about it. 

But how can you say no when he looks at you like that?

Your smile is just a bit too genuine for your liking as you clap your hands together and say, “It does!” At least the children look overjoyed. (Right. You’re just doing this for the kids. No other reason whatsoever. Shut up, Vanessa.)

Sun is delighted as well, you’re sure his beam would be twice as large if it could move. Immediately, he’s blabbering a mixture of excited rambling and instructions. “Wonderful, wonderful! This will be so fun, I can’t wait! We’ll need flowers, and to set up the aisle, we can’t have a wedding without that! And–” The Sun sharply cuts himself off with a glance at you. His eyes widen comically and he immediatly places his hands on your shoulders and spins you around so you’re facing the opposite direction. 

You let out a surprised yelp. “Hey, Sunny–!”

“Oh no NO, WAIT! We can’t see each other, no no, have to look away! Our little friends can help us get ready, yes! Don’t look, Sunshine, don’t look! It’s very, very bad luck, no, don’t want that!” he exclaims, and you feel metal hands pushing you farther away. You can hear the mechanical parts whirring and clicking faintly as he steps away. 

He’s taking this… very seriously, for a fake wedding for the kids. 

“Little friends, some of you go with Sunshine, yes! I can’t see, can’t look, it’s bad luck! You help them get ready! The rest come with me, yes yes, we will set up!” Sun tells the kids behind you. You hear a chorus of agreements before hurried little footsteps are scampering off to prepare. You chuckle to yourself as a group of six kids step up next to you, one of the girls grabbing your hand and pulling you away behind the playset so Sun can’t see you. 

The first thing these kids do is tug on your hands and push on your shoulders until you sit down, your smile wavering because could they not just ask you to sit? Immediately, there are tiny hands in your hair, running through the slight knots with their fingers. You wince a bit but let them be. They aren’t actually pulling your hair, thank god, so you’ll let it slide. (Those kinds of kids are the worst. You usually leave them to Sun, since he doesn’t seem to mind it in the slightest.)

“So, what are we going to do to get me ready?” you ask the small group of kids once they lay off of your hair. One tips his head to the side, pouting to himself as if he really didn’t think that far. 

“Oh! We need makeup!” a girl that can’t be more than seven years old says, balling her hands up excitedly. 

“I don’t think there’s makeup in the daycare,” you tell her, a pang of guilt tugging at your heart at the way she completely deflates like a balloon.

“Doesn’t Sundrop have facepaint?” an older girl suggests. The young one immediately perks back up. 

“Yes! And– and we need a dress!” 

With a soft sigh, you cup your hands around your mouth and peek around the corner of the play place. “Hey, Sunny?” you shout across the daycare. “The kiddos wanna know where the face paint and the… uh…” You trail off, turning to the kids. 

“The dress-up clothes! Dress-up clothes!”

“Right… the dress-up clothes are!”

Moments later, Sun’s voice eagerly responds, “Oh, YES, we need to look the part! Excellent thinking, little friends! Send one over, will you? I can help them find it, yes! Don’t look!” 

You face the kids again with a quick, “You heard him.” The older girl nods her head and runs out from behind the playpen, hurrying off to find Sun. Not long after, she’s back with her arms completely full, a big box of dress-up clothes and facepaint piled up to the tip of her nose that has her nearly tripping over her feet as she sets it on the squishy floor. 

The kids tear into the box, clothing items strewn everywhere and paint palettes all over the ground. Just more for you and Sun to clean up later, you lament silently to yourself and accept your fate. 

After practically dumping the contents of the box onto the floor, the kids huddle around you with facepaint in their grasps. You realize how bad of an idea it is to let a bunch of prepubescent children try to do your “makeup”, but Sun would be upset if you don’t… 

“Just not the eyes,” you tell them as two giddily dip their fingers in the paint and start applying it to your face. It’s cold, extremely so, and you’re pretty sure it hasn’t been used in years. You feel fingers trace your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, pretty much everywhere that they can reach.

When the kids seem satisfied with their work, they step back to admire your face as if you’re a freshly painted masterpiece. (You’re just praying to god that they didn’t paint a dick anywhere on your face.)

You’re not given time to check your appearance before the smallest girl is shoving something very pink and fluffy in your face, jumping up and down in place. “Wear this, wear this!” she exclaims, pointing to the tutu. You look at it with unease. Of all the articles of clothing, they chose this? 

You refuse to let these kids down though. So, swallowing your pride, you try your best to grin at the girl and say, “This is so cute. I’ll go try it on.” 

The tutu, though it looks way too small for someone that isn’t the size of a toddler, somehow manages to fit over your hips, though just barely, and with no small amount of struggling. But now it’s in place, bouncing with every step you take towards the fun-house mirror in the corner. The kids follow behind you as if they’re a pack of dogs and you have bacon in your pocket. 

Putting aside the fact that your neck is stretched like a giraffe, you look like a clown, for lack of a better word. The kids painted your cheeks a bright red and your nose a royal blue, and there’s a giant gold star right smack dab in the middle of your forehead. You inwardly groan, hoping this stuff washes off easily enough. And paired with the frilly tutu? Yeah. A whole ass clown, at this point. (Secretly, you’re hoping that Sun is looking just as terrible. Not that he doesn’t look enough like a clown as it is.)

“Thank you guys for helping me get ready!” you tell the kids after taking a moment mourning your appearance. “Why don’t you go see if Sunny is ready, since I’m not allowed to see him?”

The young girl nods hastily and darts off in the direction Sun went earlier while you patiently wait with the other kids. But they’re clearly antsy, so you tell them to go help the others with the rest while you wait. They have absolutely no remorse for leaving you by yourself. But, that’s kids for you. 

Sun doesn’t seem to take that much longer setting everything up. It can’t be a few minutes later that the girl has returned, excitedly telling you that everything is ready. She drags you out from behind the playpen by the hand into the main area of the daycare. 

You have to muffle a laugh in the sleeve of your uniform at the sight that greets you. All the kids are seated in rows with a gap between them to create a makeshift aisle, all leading up to the bridge, which is clearly being used as an altar. Sun is standing at the end of the aisle, talking to one of the children next to him, who’s holding a bouquet of tissue paper flowers. 

Okay, Sun was right, this was an excellent idea. This is just so cute!

When the Sun notices that you’re there, he immediately perks up, waving broadly to you as if you aren’t fifteen feet away. You give a small wave back.

Then in the very back, one of the youngest girls there stands up with a basket of more paper flowers. She can’t be any older than three. With the help of one of the other kids, she’s led down the aisle as she throws flowers at the kids watching. The little flower girl gets to the end of the aisle with half a basket full of flowers left still, and she glances down at it perplexed before deciding that the best course of action is to dump the rest on the floor in front of the altar and stand next to Sun. She looks especially proud of herself when he pats her head and tells her what a good job she did.

As you’re smiling at the display, the young girl tugs on your hand, bringing you down the aisle towards the animatronic. 

The kids are quietly whispering to themselves as you pass them, a few waving or saying something to you, before you’re stepping up to the “altar” and standing face to face with Sun. He’s twiddling his thumbs as if he’s nervous, and he takes a long look at your absolutely terrible appearance. 

The bouquet of flowers is in Sun’s hands now, passed to him by the kid holding them, and he hands them off to you. You grin at the gesture, pretending to hold them up to your face and smell them. 

You lean over a bit and whisper to him, “You guys sure put a lot of work into this.”

“They wanted it to be special!” Sun responds, much less quietly. You’re sure most of the kids heard him. He turns to the crowd of children and extends his arms. “Oh friends you did such an EXCELLENT job, they look WONDERFUL!” The few that helped you giggle to themselves, looking proud to earn Sun’s very… generous praise. 

When you look back at Sun, you realize that he’s also been given a makeover. You snort at the crudely painted unicorn on the top of his faceplate and the multicolored stars all over his cheeks. You just hope that you won’t be the one to have to clean it. 

“And Sunny looks so great too!” you tell the kids despite how not great he’s looking. The kids don’t have to know. 

The boy who was holding the flowers steps up in front of you and Sun, paper filled with messy writing in crayon held in his hands. He clears his throat, looking at all the kids. He puffs out his chest as if he’s in charge and isn’t younger than half the other kids there. 

“Thanks for being here. Let’s start the wedding!” he says boisterously, turning towards Sun and giving him a nod. “First, the rings.”

“Yes, yes, I have them riiiiight HERE!” Sun says as he takes out a pair of ring pops from his pocket, a red one and a green one. He passes one to you to give to him before extending his hand, palm up, and says, “Your hand, Sunshine.” 

Not expecting the gentler tone, you hesitate for a moment. (Actually, it’s kinda warm in this tutu. Can tutus trap heat? You’re pretty sure tutus can trap heat.) But you shake it off and put your palm in his, allowing him to slip the ring pop onto your pinky finger. Then, you flip his hand over and slide his ring pop onto his pinky in return, except it barely makes it to the first joint. Figures. 

After the rings, the little priest claps his hands together. He opens his mouth to continue on with the faux ceremony, but the kids are starting to grow impatient. One of them shouts, “Kiss already!” and soon a large number of them are chanting for you to kiss. 

You’re sputtering in place, feeling much too warm to be in the stuffy daycare with all these people. Sun, thankfully, doesn’t seem to have any problem with the kids. “Not yet, friends!” he tells them, holding out his hands to calm the chants. “We still haven’t done the most important part!”

Thankfully, that seems to quell them for now. 

“Okay,” the kid priest says after peace is restored, turning to you. “Do you, Sunshine, take Mr. Sun to be your husband?”

You blanch. Has that nickname rubbed off that much on the kids? “That’s…not my name–” you attempt to correct him, before deciding it’s a lost cause. With a sigh, you say, “Yes, I do.”

The priest smiles and turns to Sun. “And Mr. Sun, do you take Sunshine to be your–”

“YES, absolutely!” he interrupts, jumping in excitement. It’s…sweet. Very sweet.

“Still…not my name…” you mumble, though it seems to go unheard. 

“Then,” the boy says, “I now pronounce you married! Now kiss!”

You did not talk about this. How the hell do you kiss a robot? Sun doesn’t exactly have lips. Or a functioning mouth. Or, you know, anything to kiss you with. So it’s kind of impossible. But you don’t want to let down the kids, who all seem to be so delighted with this. (Funny how you’re only thinking about how Sun can’t kiss you, not that you don’t want him to. You tell your inner Vanessa to shut up.)

Sun also seems to have not thought this through. His voice box is making a muffled static sound as if he’s trying to say something but no words will come out. Deciding that you have to give the kids something, you reach for his collar and pull him down to your level because he is just way too tall. Gently, you place your lips against the cheek of his faceplate, feeling his voice stutter out completely and go silent, before letting him go. There. A kiss. That wasn’t too bad. 

Sun stares at you for a long moment, his hands twitching slightly. Oh boy, did you break him? Crap, you’re almost sure you just broke him. But he snaps out of it soon enough and, without any more hesitance, takes your hand again and brings the back of it up to his faceplate, pressing the metal of his mouth against your skin. (It’s very, very warm, just like the real sun. It makes you feel like he isn’t just a hunk of metal and wires, for only a moment.) It’s not quite a kiss, but it’s as close to one as Sun is able to give. 

You can’t help the wide beam that stretches across your face as Sun hugs you. You don’t even berate him when he lifts you off of your feet and twirls around with you held tightly against him, both of you laughing. This little wedding is so silly, but the children are absolutely thrilled, little “awww”s and claps and laughter erupting from the small crowd. 

When Sun sets you down, you press another kiss to his cheek, quickly, and pull out of his grip like you didn’t do anything of the sort. The kids are already starting to disperse, too wound up from the candy Sun gave them– that you’re almost certain is laced with caffeine– to sit still anymore. 

“Sunshine, don’t you think that was just the BEST? Did you see the look on our little friends’ faces? They were DELIGHTED, you did sosososooo good!” he praises, clapping his hands together. “It’s such a SHAME that we can’t do that again some other time. No no no, marriage is a one-time thing, only one! And I’m so lucky, SO lucky!” 

His wording makes you pause. “Uh, Sunny, we can do it again another day if you want. The kids really seemed to enjoy it.”

Sun shakes his head profusely. “No no, we CANNOT! Can’t get married again, that’s no good! Only once, just once, Sunshine!”

“Yeah, but it was fake, so it doesn’t matter how many times we do it,” you tell him.

Sun’s hands fly up and grip his faceplate, oh no. “WH– WHAT do you MEAN it was FAKE? Sunshine, are– are we NOT MARRIED?” 

Oh boy. 

“Uh– Oh, looks like Timmy is having trouble tying his shoes!” you quickly say, backing up. “Better go help!” You turn on your heel and run in the opposite direction as fast as possible.

“HUH– Sunshiiiiine, WAIT!”

(And just because you consider telling him that it wasn’t all fake still doesn’t make Vanessa right.)

Chapter Text

Dealing with Sun is always, without fail, an interesting experience. Never dull, at least, even when he follows you around the daycare for an hour while you try to attend to the other children and do your job, all while he’s practically begging, “Sunshine, please, pleasepleasePLEASE answer me, you can’t ignore me forever. You’re not playing FAIR, Sunshine, come on!”

It took nearly seventy minutes but eventually, your patience wore thin and you gently set him off to the side while you explained that just because you put on a fake wedding for the kids doesn’t make it official. No, Sunny, we’re not married, it wasn’t real. No, Sunny, we can’t get married for real. (Even though his pitiful puppy dog eyes break your heart into pieces and make you want to reconsider.)

But you’re weak for him, very weak, and you let him give you an extra long hug before leaving the daycare after closing time, unsure how much he really took from your little chat.

What you don’t expect, after a rather eventful day, is to run into Vanessa. Again. Dealing with the night guard once in a day is enough on its own. Twice? Give you a break. 

Vanessa almost appears as if she’s waiting for you, standing there with her hands on her hips by the Pizzaplex exit. It’s nearly midnight already and you really want to just get home, but of course, she stops you before you’re able to exit, a wry smile on her face. You do not like it. 

She calls your name, sickeningly sweet on her tongue. “You know, funny story,” she starts, her arms crossing over her chest as she blocks the door. You scan your surroundings, trying to map out your escape. “I dropped by the daycare earlier to help an employee in the security section, and you’ll never guess what the animatronic said to me. He told me you two got married. Seemed awfully excited about it, too.” Silently, you curse Sun’s overactive personality for not being able to apparently contain himself enough to not snitch to your most cynical enemy. 

“It was for the kids,” you tell her simply, defensively, trying to dismiss her and slip past. She doesn’t let you, taking a step over to block you in, your chances of escape dwindling drastically. 

“Right,” she drawls, thoroughly unimpressed. “And no other reason.” 

“Nope,” you say, taking a step to the right. So does Vanessa. You grumble under your breath and step to the left, the security guard following. Growing annoyed, you let out a frustrated sigh. “Vanessa, I’m in a bit of a hurry, and I know the lights are going to go out soon, so if you could–” 

“What, you don't want to see your dear Moon?” she taunts, her smile edging on smug while you feel yourself grow hot. 

“No, that’s not it–” you start to say, cutting yourself off mid-sentence with a small yelp as the lights abruptly shut off with a loud clack. 

Vanessa’s smile only grows. 

“You were saying?” 

You shake your head, trying not to let her get to you. She’s just poking fun, she’s not serious…probably. “Yeah, I should really be going before everything locks up. Besides, Vanessa, he’s in the daycare anyway, so–”

“My, my,” you hear a very familiar voice lilt above you. Your stomach drops. “Who’s in the daycare? No, no, not anyone I know.” 

The animatronic drops down from wherever up on the ceiling or rafters he was, his body haunching down and facing Vanessa, right in front of you, swaying side to side slowly. His head swivels your way, red eyes glowing at you over his shoulders as his faceplate swirling around in a circle. 

Vanessa balks at his appearance, as if she didn’t actually expect him, despite what she said. She lets out a huff and brushes past him, shoulders tensing as she does. “Whatever, I have to find that kid anyway. Just– keep him away from me,” she mutters as she stomps away. You let out a breath once she’s gone, glad to have been saved from that interaction. 

Though now you’re faced with another one. 

“Such a pity,” the Moon laments, his head shaking side to side as if he’s disappointed. You know he isn’t. “Now she’s gone, gone, just us, just you and me, Starlight.” (What is it with these animatronics and giving you strange nicknames? You’ll never know.)

“Uh– Sorry, Moon,” you tell him, turning your back to him and focusing your attention towards the doors. “But I’ve gotta get home, the doors are going to close soon, and I really don’t–” 

Just as you open your mouth, it’s as if you’ve jinxed yourself. The clock strikes midnight and the door security measures (that are definitely overkill) kick in, closing over your only escape. 

“...want to be stuck here,” you finish with a long sigh, burying your head in your hands. “Crap. Stupid, stupid Vanessa, why did she…” You trail off with an aggravated groan, shaking your head side to side. Just your luck. Now you’ll be stuck here all night. Maybe you can get Vanessa to help you out through the emergency exit… Not that you want to speak to her any more than you have to. (Or admit to her that you got yourself locked in.)

“Oh dear,” you hear Moon drawl behind you, his voice pitching upward in amusement. “Poor thing, stuck, stuck here with me. So terrible, such a tragedy.” 

You don’t appreciate the teasing. 

You spin around to face the animatronic, watching as his unmoving face beams back at you. “It’s not that,” you tell him, deciding the doors are a lost cause. You step away from them into the dark atrium, passing Moon. He only takes a moment to start following you close behind. “I just had things to do tonight, Moon. And another shift tomorrow… God, tomorrow’s going to be rough.”

The Moon ignores your clear frustration, sliding up to walk beside you. He crouches down to your height so he isn’t looming over you. “We should pass the time, Starlight,” he says. “Yes yes, find something to do.” 

You shoot him a wary glance. “The lights will come back on soon,” you reply. “And then Sun will–” You pause for a moment, having completely forgotten about the jovial animatronic. Oh god, Sun would be frantic if he found out you had gotten locked in. Either that or he’d force you into having a giant slumber party with him all night, and you…don’t think you can handle his boundless energy right now. At least Moon is relatively calm. 

Moon snickers at you as you stop in the middle of the main Atrium. “Sun will…?” he asks, teases, knowingly. 

You make up your mind quickly. “Hey, Moony, is there a way for the lights to just…stay out?” (You love Sun, you really do. You’re just too tired.) 

His eyes narrowing in skepticism, Moon’s voice hitches up into a hum. “I wonder, I wonder. Why ask, little star, why do you want to know? Don’t want to see dear Sunny?” 

You blanch, defensively holding out your hands. “No, I just– I, uh, wanted to spend some time with you, since I don’t see you often?” It comes out as more of a question, less of you trying to be convincing. You inwardly groan. 

“Hmmm,” the Moon sounds, amusement dripping in his tone. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, Stardust? No no, you aren’t that naughty, are you? I wonder…” 

Ah. 

He absolutely saw right through that.

Letting a long winded sigh pass through your lips, you murmur, “I’m just not in the mood to see Sunny right now.” 

“Because you broke his poor little heart with your little wedding, yes?”

You startle, your eyes snapping back to Moon. “How did you know that? Can you guys communicate?”

The animatronic chuckles. “We’ll go with that,” he says, evading the question. Not that you’re surprised. The Moon often works in strange ways, ones you can’t so easily understand. “But it’s so sad you left me out.”

“Uh,” you stop walking. “I’m…sorry? I didn’t mean to– I mean, it was kinda spur of the moment–” you say, cringing at the awkwardness radiating from your tone. 

Moon interrupts you with an unimpressed noise residing from his voicebox. He crowds your space, leaning forward much too closely for your liking. “You left me all alone, Starlight. You and Sun had fun without me. So you have to make it up to me, it’s only fair, don’t you think?” he nearly purrs, his grin wide and only a little bit intimidating.

Is–

Is the robot flirting with you?

You shake away the thought, convinced that he couldn’t have been programmed to be able to– and you leave it at that. 

“Of course you don’t have to, no no, won’t force you. You and Sunny will have so much fun tonight, I’m certain. No, don’t let me spoil it.”

You’re hesitant to agree to that mischievous tone, but you aren’t kidding anyone, it’s too good of an offer to pass up right now. Besides, how bad can some quality bonding time with everyone’s favorite lunar animatronic really be?

“Alright, fine,” you agree, turning away from him. “You know how to keep the lights out, then? Let’s start with that.” 

What you had assumed was that Moon knew a way to access a circuit breaker of some kind or had access to the main lights in the atrium so that when the power was supposed to come back on, it wouldn’t. What you didn’t expect was for him to instead grasp your hand between cold, metal fingers, and all but drag you up the stairs towards the third floor. 

“Woah! Uh– Moon? Where are we going?” you ask him, having to nearly run to keep up with his long strides. (God, why does he have to be so tall?) The Moon doesn’t answer you; he just continues tugging you up the stairs. With nothing short of an annoyed huff (though it’s more for show than anything), you let yourself be strung along by him. Though, when you nearly fall at such a hasty pace, Moon snickering mockingly at you, he does slow down some, to save you the embarrassment again. So he kind of has a heart, you suppose. 

Traversing across the third floor as it’s shrouded in darkness, you recognize that Moon is leading you towards…Bonnie Bowl? Not that you don’t love the place– bowling is always fun, even if you aren’t the greatest at it– it throws you for a loop. Why here, of all places? And what about the lights?

Moon glances over his shoulder at you, mistaking your confusion for discomfort. “What’s wrong, Starshine?” he jeers, though it’s lighthearted in nature. “Never been bowling before?”

You pull your hand away as you reach the doors of the bowling alley, Moon pulling them open for you to slip through. “Er, no, I have, I just didn’t know–” 

You cut yourself off as your eyes settle on the view of the alley in front of you, and you’re struck with the realization: glow bowling, of course. It takes place in the dark, after all. You don’t know why the thought didn’t come to you sooner. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?” the Moon jeers from behind you, a large hand placed on your shoulder. His faceplate spins around in a full circle. “Oh, oh, oh, oh~”

“Oh hush,” you grumble, swatting the hand off of you as you step forward into the bowling alley. “You wanted to hang out, right? Come on.” Throwing him a glance over your shoulder, you walk past the entryway and up to the counter manned by one of the various STAFF bots. It stares at you for a long moment, then at Moon, who stands by the bowling balls, looking as though he’s inspecting them, before you give an awkward chuckle and say, “Uh, two please.” 

The bot nods its head and sets up a lane for you, dim lights flickering on at the end of the alley while the rest is more or less bathed in various LEDs (none bright enough to trigger Moon’s sensors, it seems). “Shoe size?” it asks you.

You tell the robot your size for your bowling shoes before pausing, sparing a glance at Moon, then his abnormally large feet, dressed in those silly clown shoes with the bells on the ends. Does he even need bowling shoes? You decide for him that he probably doesn’t and tell the STAFF bot you only need one pair. 

Once your shoes have been brought to you, you make your way to the only illuminated lane, sitting in one of the small chairs to tie up your laces. 

As you’re bent over, you hear a faint whirring and clicking of mechanical parts. You raise your head to see Moon standing in front of you, holding two bowling balls. You stand, taking the one extended out to you. It’s lighter than you’re used to. 

“What size did you even get me?” you ask, turning the ball over to look for the markings. 

“Mmm, six. Too heavy?” 

You scoff. “I can handle more than six pounds.”

The Moon snickers, his faceplate twisting side to side. “No, no, don’t think so. Humans are so weak, so delicate. Such a breakable little thing, can’t let you do that, Starlight, much too delicate.” And there it is again, that tone that makes you think, just for a moment, that his remark is more than just teasing in nature. (Whatever that is supposed to mean.)

You decide against arguing with him, your resolve slipping through your fingers. “You’re lucky it’s my favorite color,” you mumble, turning away from him. He doesn’t need to be aware of your burning face, you think. “What size did you grab, anyway?” 

Moon slithers over beside you, placing his own ball down on the rack next to yours. “That’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over, Stardust,” he says, an air of… smugness to his tone. You’re certain it’s at least heavier than yours. 

Curious, you lean over, attempting to get a glance of the number ingrained into the ball behind him. But a grinning, celestial faceplate follows to block your view, tutting as two hands fall on your shoulders and spin you around. “Naughty thing, trying to cheat. That’s not fair, now, is it, Stardust?” (You’re beginning to hate that tone of voice with a furious passion.)

You want to argue with him, as he leads you back to your seat, want to spin around and push past him to look anyway, just to spite him. You know it’s all in good fun, this is just how Moon is; he’s teasing, conniving, mischievous when he wants to be, even if he’s such a rule follower, rivaling even Sun.  

Moon lets go, stepping away from you and back to your lane. He’s bending over the small control panel beside it, imputing your name in as Starlight (because of course he would. You’re beginning to think no one even remembers your real name, at this point) and his as Moony, your go-to nickname for him, which he seems to enjoy, despite the lack of creativity. 

It’s your turn to bowl first. The screen above flickers to life, flashing your name in bold, neon letters next to the empty scoreboard. You pass by Moon, giving him a small glance as you step onto the floor. His faceplate twists around and he stares, as if ushering you to go on. 

Holding the all too light ball in your hands, you walk up towards the lane. Your arm extends backward as you do, holding the ball with your fingers. You stop just short of the line stretching across the start of the bowling lane, your arm swinging forward with as much force as you can put into it as you let the ball fall from your fingers and onto the wood. 

You watch as the ball rolls quickly down the lane, starting perfectly in the middle, to your satisfaction. But your smile falls as it starts veering off to the right, away from the center pin. You stare in disdain as it swerves as if allergic to the pins it’s nearing and falls right into the dreaded gutter. 

Just your luck. First throw, and you’ve already gotten a gutter ball.

You can’t say you’re surprised, not really. You briefly consider putting up the bumpers, if only to save what little pride of yours remains, but you quickly banish the idea. You don’t think you’ll be able to handle Moon’s pestering if you do. 

Quietly, you walk back over to the animatronic, refusing to meet his eyes. You’re certain they’re flooded with amusement, and you don’t need to confirm it, no thank you. You ignore the mirthful laugh that greets your ears, waiting as your ball comes back to you. 

You huff to yourself, picking up your ball to throw again. It’s fine, everything’s fine, it’s your first throw. You’re just a little rusty, no big deal. You wind your arm back for your second throw, your eyes set on the center pin. 

At least this time you hit a couple of pins. Not enough to be considered a victory, not at all, but enough to make up for the failure. 

The Moon is silent as you return to the table, letting you pass by without as much as a jab (thank god). His deep blue ball is picked up between joined fingers, nearly too long to fit into the holes. 

Clearly, this isn’t his first time bowling. You wonder when a daycare attendant would even get the chance to bowl in the first place, though you’re above asking. 

His arm stretches back, throwing the ball down the lane. It’s much faster than yours, speeding across the wood and crashing into the pins at the end. You really shouldn’t be surprised when he gets a strike.

You huff into your hands as he returns, looking all too proud of himself compared to your humiliating effort. “Something wrong, star?” he asks knowingly. There’s no way he doesn’t know. “Wouldn’t mind putting the bumpers up, if you need, wouldn’t mind at all.” 

You wave him off as he chuckles and sits beside you. “I don’t need the bumpers up,” you tell him, because you don’t. 

The Moon hums, but he doesn’t push it. It’s a relief when he instead changes the subject. “Hmmm, if you married Sun earlier, do you think you can consider this a honeymoon?”

Never mind. This is worse.

“Pun intended?” you try to joke, laughing awkwardly to yourself. What is it with these animatronics wanting to marry you? 

The Moon does not laugh along. His head twists from side to side, his eyes never straying from you. “I think it’s fair, just playing fair,” Moon lilts, the little bells adorning his wrists jingling softly as he clasps his hands together in front of him. “Didn’t get to join the ceremony, a real shame. But we can make up for it, Starlight.” 

With very mixed emotions, you give him what you hope is a genuine grimace. “I’m tied down to nobody, thank you very much. Especially not some…some childish, goofy daycare robot who thinks trapping me here overnight and calling me cute nicknames is going to win me over.” You cross your arms over your chest for emphasis. 

The Moon doesn’t take from that what you had hoped he might. “Cute? Didn’t know you liked them so much, Starlight,” he says. “I’d say they might be working.” 

You pointedly ignore him. (You don’t want to admit that maybe they are, just a little bit.)

“This isn’t a honeymoon,” you tell him. And your voice doesn’t waver, because you don’t find it absolutely adorable, and you’re not internally convinced that this isn’t the worst thing these two could be insistent on. 

“Whatever you say,” the Moon hums, wholly unconvinced, but he lets it go easily. “Your turn, Starshine.” 

Looking up at the board, you find he’s right. He’d distracted you, of course he had. “I knew that,” you say, standing from the table to grab your bowling ball. You silently pray that you’ll do at least somewhat better this time as you reel your arm back and let the ball roll down the lane. 

Aaaaaand it’s another gutter ball. Just your luck. You groan into the palms of your hands.

Your second throw, like before, ends better. The ball hits the lane faster than before, rushing up to meet the pins. And you hit them, this time! Sure, you’re off center, and you don’t knock down them all, three still left standing, but it’s much better than the measly two you hit last turn!

Moon’s voice brings you out of your victorious thoughts. “Did your dear, dear friend draw this?” he asks. You spin around, confused, to see him holding up a piece of paper that looks awfully familiar. 

“Where– Where did you get that?” you question, stepping back over to him. It’s the drawing of you and Sun he made from earlier, what kicked this all off in the first place.

The Moon, of course, laughs, holding an air of secrecy to him as he inspects the drawing. “Mmmmm, that’s a secret, little star. But…you didn’t answer me.” He pauses, waiting for your response. You give none, staring at where his fingers hold the page so gently, like he doesn’t want to even bend the paper by a fraction. It’s…endearing, in a way, you suppose. 

Moon goes on when he gets nothing from you in response. “Well, couldn’t have been you, Starlight, no no. These poor, messy scribbles couldn’t have been drawn by such a precious thing.” 

You try not to think about how the flattery makes your heart flutter, just the slightest bit, but still, more than a robot ever should. Your feelings towards the two are complicated, you’re well aware of that. Sometimes, you think how they feel about you in return might be even more complicated than you’d ever be able to wrap your little human head around. (Gosh, you’re starting to sound a bit like Moon. Maybe you’ve already spent too much time with him.)

“Aren’t you guys programmed to draw as badly as the kids?” 

Moon ignores your question. “So it was him,” he says, pleased with the confirmation. You wonder how he would react if it had been you to draw it. Flattered? Jealous? Even more pleased? You’re uncertain. He’s difficult to decipher, more often than not.

“I didn’t realize he kept it,” you murmur, half to yourself as you stand beside the animatronic. He bends down, haunching over to be at eye level, his faceplate staring at you. 

“He’s quite fond of it,” he says softly, gently. “Fond of you.” You wonder, in these circumstances, how far that fondness actually goes. Mind reeling with questions, Moon doesn’t leave you any time to ask them. “ But it’s missing something, don’t you agree?”

Wary, you ask, “Like what?”

Turning away, Moon wanders back to your table. You follow, watching as he looms over the small table (you always forget just how big he and Sun are). He places the picture down on the flat surface, his back facing you so you’re unable to see what he’s doing. 

It doesn’t take long at all until he’s turning back to you. “There,” he says, holding up the paper between ginger fingertips for you to see. “I much prefer it like this.” 

And– oh. Oh, that’s actually really sweet. 

You smile wide at the drawing, the new addition of Moon holding your unoccupied hand undoubtedly adorable. Moon, for as much as he insulted Sunny’s artistic abilities, is only marginally better, just barely neater than Sun was. And, to top it off, he’s filled the sky with bright yellow stars along with Sun’s many hearts.

You have to agree. You prefer it like this, too, having both of them there, their own personal flare added to the paper. And for as troublesome as Moon can be, he’s equally as sweet, as caring. Between him and Sun, you don’t think you’d ever be able to choose a favorite. They’re both perfect in their own, special ways.

But that thought, as you’re standing there, Moon patiently waiting for your reply, leads to a whole new one, one you’re not all too sure you want right now, but one you get anyhow: Vanessa was right. 

You’re absolutely smitten for these robots, aren’t you?

(And over a messy, child-like drawing, no less. Gosh, you need to pull yourself together!)

“That– Y-yeah, me too, uh–” you sputter out, your brain not quite catching up with your mouth in time to stop it. Oh, this is embarrassing. You hastily turn away before Moon can comment on it. “It’s– It’s your turn, right? Go ahead, you– you’re…making me have to wait for mine.” 

Yep. Real smooth.

“Of course,” he says as he passes by you, brushing against your shoulder as he walks back to the lane. But he pauses, glancing back. “You’re awfully red, Starshine. My my, you don’t have a fever, do you? No, that’s no good at all, don’t want you getting sick on me.”

“Nope, I’m all good! Go bowl already,” you say, pushing on his back in an attempt to get him away so you can breathe, if only for a short moment. Moon listens, a short giggle following as he returns to the lane, grabbing his ball (which you still don’t know the weight of, you note bitterly.)

You watch as he swings his arm forward, the ball hitting the lane more softly than before. And it rolls, rolls, rolls– right into the gutter. You stare with raised eyebrows. He– he’s a machine, how did he get a gutter ball? He got a strike on his first throw. 

You dismiss it as a fluke, some faulty wiring or something that distracted him. 

That is, until Moon gets another right into the gutter. 

When he returns to you, his voice is far too amused at the pout on your face. He shrugs his shoulders halfheartedly, saying, “Seems I’m down on my luck as well, Starlight.” 

Yeah, right. You scoff, walking past him. “You don’t need to purposely throw off, or whatever it is you’re doing. I can win on my own.”

“Mmmm, right.” The Moon sounds very convinced. But he lets out a staticky sigh, following you when you go to grab your bowling ball. He grasps it in long fingers before you can, holding it away from you. “Here, here, let me help, little star.” 

“I don’t need your help,” you say defiantly, even if you might just a little bit. 

Moon doesn’t leave room for argument. He ushers you to the beginning of the lane, his hand on the small of your back to guide you into alignment. 

“See the triangles there, Stardust?” he asks you, moving his hand to gesture to the row of small triangles on the ground. “Mmmm, yes, we use them to mark where it is we’re standing.” Moon hands you the ball, letting you grip it between your fingers. He stands behind you, crowding into your space in a way that has your attention slipping from the task at hand. 

Moon’s hand rests on your wrist, guiding your arm back. “Now, now, you must keep your wrist straight, Starlight. Don’t let it move, no no, that’s why it’s going into the gutter.” He shows you, moving your arm back and forth. “Now, let go.” You follow his directions, letting him do most of it, keeping your arm in line to prevent the ball from veering off to the side as you release it from your fingertips.

It goes spinning down the lane, fast, and crashes into the pins at the end. The screen above flashes in victory, the word “strike!” bouncing across happily. 

Moon makes a pleased noise at seeing the smile spreading across your face. “See, see, Starlight? You–” He pauses, cutting himself off in the middle of his sentence. You glance back at him, confused, as you wait. 

After a moment, Moon is stepping away, seeming to break out of his stupor. “Ready to leave, little star? Lest you want to stay here for another hour, of course. Power cycle, it’s already started, must leave now.” 

Oh. That went…very fast. But you do suppose that you’re tired (and definitely not ready to face Sun, just yet). So you readily agree that, yeah, you should go, then. You haven’t stayed for long, but you don’t think that you mind. 

You take off your shoes, turning them back into the STAFF bot. Moon waits for you by the exit, staring out into the pitch black Pizzaplex. You follow him out, trying to walk quickly back to the daycare before the lights come back on. You’ll be able to turn off the lights there, so that Moon can stay out longer. 

Silently, you walk side by side with the animatronic, trying to figure out what it is that you should say. Thanks, for taking you bowling, for goading you into doing this with him? It was fun, you have to admit. Or maybe you should tell him that, or that you’d like to do this again. (Maybe not the honeymoon part, though.) 

Words are complicated, you decide, not having anything really worthwhile to say to him that wouldn’t just be… awkward. So instead, you take a breath and reach out your hand, gently brushing your fingers with his. Moon hums, looking at you for a moment, then dropping his gaze to your hands. He chuckles to himself, as if it’s funny to him, fully intertwining your fingers together. 

(You’re glad he doesn’t look back over after that, afraid he’ll see the stupidly wide smile on your face and your burning cheeks.)

Of course, that’s when you hear a clicking above you, loud and deep. You’re already downstairs, so close to that lightswitch, but not close enough, it seems. The overhead lights flicker back on too quickly for you to try to pull Moon into the daycare, and you let go of him on instinct, your eyes squeezing shut at the sudden abundance of light invading them. 

It takes you a long moment for your eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, but when they finally do, you find yourself face to face with the bright grin of Moon’s daytime counterpart. Except for the fact that his grin looks severely out of place, with the way his arms are crossed over his chest, foot tapping against the shiny flooring.

“Sunshine…”

Oh no.

Chapter Text

You think that maybe, just a little bit, Sun has no right to be upset. Maybe. You know he doesn't exactly enjoy being in the “backseat”, so to speak, in place of Moon coming out, but he doesn’t usually get peeved about it. So what’s the big deal? It’s not like–

“I can’t believe you were avoiding me like that!” he basically whines. “That was NOT fair, Sunshine, not fair!”

Oh, right. That. You were avoiding him. Duh. How could you forget? 

You, for lack of better judgment, try to play dumb. “I wasn’t, Sunny, I would never!” you say, at least a little guilty for outright lying to him. “Moon just– he dragged me off before the lights could change, and–”

“You KNOW how I feel about lying. Bad, bad, very bad! Lucky, lucky you’re too old for timeout,” he says, arms still crossed over his chest as he childishly stomps towards the daycare entrance, leaving you no choice but to follow along. The little bells on his shoes jingle with each step. You’d find it all comical if you didn’t feel bad about it. 

But you find yourself wondering something. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask him, “How…do you even know, anyway? You weren’t there.” Because it is odd, isn’t it? He wasn’t there; Moon was. And you’ve been told, time and time again, that the two are by no means the same animatronic. (Well, technically they were, but not the same.)

Sun stops just outside of the daycare entrance. “Weren’t there–!” he repeats incredulously, voice sputtering off into agitated static. He spins around, annoyance written all over his faceplate (as much as it can be, anyhow), but he stops short. Maybe it’s the way that your head is tilted in concern, lips curving down into a frown, but he seems to shake himself out of it, taking a “breath”, before much more calmly turning back around and stepping into the daycare. “Fine, fine, finefinefine FINE, can’t blame you for it. Nonono, didn’t know, didn’t know I was WATCHING--” Sun trails off into murmurs and ramblings that are lost on you. He plops down onto the plush flooring of the daycare, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. Tentatively, you do.

“What do you mean by watching?” you ask him, tilting your head in confusion. 

“Oh! Yes, yes, right. Well, to YOU, when the lights go off, it might look like I’ve left– and, technically, I guess I have.” He pauses to make sure you’re listening. You wave your hand for him to go on, not quite sure where this is going. “Er– But! But I DON’T! I can still SEE and HEAR eeeeeverything! Even if– if I’m not in control. I don’t– I don’t like it. No, not pleasant, prefer to TALK to you myself. Can’t do that when Moon’s in control.”

“That’s…” You trail off. Really, really interesting, your mind supplies. “So Moon’s watching right now, then? Can you guys like…talk to each other?”

The Sun nods his head excitedly. “Yep! OH, but he’s mad at me for telling you that.” 

You briefly remember Moon saying something about him and Sun being able to communicate, but you didn’t recognize how advanced it all is. (Or that they both can see everything that happens through the other’s eyes. You have to admit, that’s… really cool.)

But with Sun’s chipper tone returning, you have to ask, “Sooo…you’re not mad anymore?”

The Sun laughs as if he wasn’t practically fuming all about two minutes ago. “Of course not, silly! Not at you, no, never, never, NEVER! Nonono, I’m mad at HIM. Eurgh, shouldn’t have pulled you away. And– And, and, and he ruined my precious drawing!”

“But I was avoiding you?” you say, though it’s more like a question. You’re going to get whiplash from the sudden mood changes. “And he didn’t ruin it. It’s still cute.” 

Sun doesn’t elaborate, completely disregarding your first comment altogether. “Oh oh OH, I SEE! Well– well if SUNSHINE likes it, I–” His voice fizzles out into static, carrying on moments later to continue rambling. “It can’t be– can’t be that bad. Nononono, can’t be, not if YOU think so, so I–”

“Uh, Sunny?” you interrupt, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You’re rambling again. You okay?”

“AUGH–” The Sun jolts, knocked out of his own head and falling backward onto the mat in a surprised and frantic heap. He collects himself quickly, holding his hands out in front of him after sitting back up way too quickly for any human being to ever be able to. “OH, yes yes YES, I’m FINE, just finefinefine, Sunshine! In tip-top shape, nothing wrong here!”

What’s…going on with him? He’s acting… more Sun-like than usual. If that even makes any sense. More anxious, more bubbly and rambunctious than you’re used to. It’s odd, even for such a typically hyper animatronic. 

“You’re sure? We can take you down to parts and service in the morning, if not.” 

“NOOO, nonono, I don’t need that! Nope, I said I’m a-okay, Sunshine!” 

Yeah. Definitely acting weird.

Cautiously, you place your hand on top of his. You can feel him freeze up. Really weird. “Sun, if something is wrong--”

You don’t get the rest of your sentence out. There’s a loud thump above you, startling you both. You look over just in time to see something whizzing by in the corner of your vision, crashing into the ball pit and sending balls flying. That’s not something you’re unfamiliar with, it happens all the time during the day. During the day. Certainly not after hours. 

Sun jumps up before you do, springing to his feet to hurry over to the ball pit. He takes a swan dive off of the edge (a feat that should be impossible, seeing as the pit is hardly three feet deep and he’s very tall) and disappears under a layer of balls. 

You’re quick to hurry over, watching as Sun emerges moments later with a child in his arms, holding them up happily and babbling to them like his programming is meant to. “HELLO! New friend, you’re sure up late! Are we having a slumber party? Where are all of your friends?” (He seems back to normal for now, at least.)

The kid is hoisted out of the ball pit and set onto the floor next to where you’re standing. “What’s a kid doing here after hours?” you ask, looking at the child. It’s a boy with scraggly brown hair. He can’t be more than ten, if you had to guess. Why’s he here all alone at a time like this?

Sun squats down next to the boy, in his face with his usual boisterous attitude. “Yes, yes, you’re right! It’s very late, friend, you shouldn’t be here. Where are your parents?” 

The kid scoots away from Sun, lowering his gaze. “I, uh– They’re not here,” he says.

“Oh, how irresponsible of them, leaving you here alone!” Sun exclaims, already standing and beginning to skip over towards the security desk and away from the kid. “Not to worry, little friend, no no! I’ll call officer Vanessa, then she can contact your parents and–”

“No!” you and the child all but yell in unison, stopping the Sun in his tracks. If he could move that faceplate, you’re sure his eyebrows would be furrowed. 

You attempt to cover up your mistake quickly. “Er, I mean, how about we think of something else, yeah? If, uh…”

You glance at the child. “Gregory,” he supplies. “I’m Gregory.” 

“Right,” you say, trying to smile convincingly at Sun. “If Gregory here doesn’t want to, either, then maybe we should figure something else out.”

“Oh,” the Sun says simply, skipping back over to you and Gregory. “Alrighty, then! We can keep him here until his parents come to pick him up! Oh, this is so exciting! We can have a big slumber party together! I’ve never had a slumber party, but I’m sure it’ll be TONS of fun!” 

Oh gosh. Maybe this was a mistake. 

Unlike what Sun had said, your little sleepover is far from “tons of fun.” If anything, the kid is a hassle. Once he warms up to you and Sunny, he becomes a nightmare. Constantly running off, trying to explore the rest of the daycare; hell, he even manages to climb on top of the playset. Sun nearly has a panic attack trying to get him down to safety. 

“N-now Gregory, I’m sure there are LOTS of other things we can do for fun!” he warbles, clawing at his face as he frantically darts around the perimeter of the playset, trying to find a good way to get back up to him. “So– So let’s just sloooowly climb down and– GOOD HEAVENS, BE CAREFUL!” 

In one swoop, Gregory laughs and swings himself over the edge of the structure, gripping onto the wall of the level below him. You jolt at the same time Sun does. Sure, this was funny at first, but you don’t want anything to happen to the kid. A fall from all the way up there, even with the cushy flooring, could very well lead to a broken bone. 

Kicking his legs, the kid pulls himself up and over a railing and safely into the play structure. You let out a breath of relief and rush over to meet Sun, who is pensively watching as Gregory clambers down towards the ground again, winding through the tunnels. Anxiety flickers beneath those white irises. 

“Sunny,” you say as you place a gentle hand on his arm, tearing his gaze away from Gregory, “don’t worry so much, he’s fine.” 

Sun stares at your hand for a moment, his stressed smile wavering. “Oh, no, I’m not worrying! Who’s worrying? Certainly not your good pal Sunny!” he says louder than usual, tacking on a laugh as he steps away. “I’m just–” He cuts off, back straightening and eyes narrowing. “Rrrrgghh, shut UP, Moon! I am too!” he hisses, throwing his hands up in the air as he walks away towards the exit of the playpen. 

Yeah, something is definitely up with him. 

You hardly have time to dawdle on it though, seeing Gregory run over to where you’re standing. He sends a wary glance over to the animatronic. “Uh, what’s with the sun guy?” he asks you, brows furrowed. You heave a sigh, ruffling the hair on his head. 

“He’s probably just stressed,” you tell him, knowing that Sun wasn’t all too happy with you earlier. It could still be getting to him, even if he said that you didn’t do anything wrong. “Why don’t you go ask him to color with you? I’m sure he’d love that.” 

Thankfully, Gregory seems to take that answer. He gives a smile and says, “Alright!” before running off in the direction Sun went. “Mr. Sun! Can we draw?” 

If Sun is still upset, he shows no more signs of it. He perks up at the request, already bouncing with energy again. “Wonderful idea, little friend!” he exclaims, already leading the kid towards the coloring table. “Oh, I LOVE drawing! This is going to be so much fun!” 

Giggling, you follow the two, watching as they each take a seat in the little kiddie chairs that surround the table. Sun is comically tall for them, his knees bent up as he squeezes into the seat, but he doesn’t appear the least bit fazed as he gathers the art supplies and places them in front of Gregory. Immediately, the kid grabs a handful of crayons and markers and gets to work on the sheet of paper before him. 

“Sunshine, Sunshine!” Sun exclaims as you walk over to him, looking over Gregory’s shoulder as he colors. “Look, LOOK! Look what I found!” He holds up a piece of paper triumphantly, unfolding it with practiced ease. It’s the drawing from earlier, of you, Sun, and Moon all holding hands together. 

You smile as he holds it out to you. “Where was this?” you ask, reaching for the picture. 

“Found it in my pocket! Mean ol’ Moon must’ve hidden it away from us! Not fair, not fair, first he– he RUINS it and, and– Nononono Sunshine LIKES it, not ruined, not ruined– HEY!” Sun breaks off from his rambling with a screech, gripping the rays of his faceplate as Gregory snatches the drawing before you can take it. “Little friend, be GENTLE with that!” 

“Who’s this?” Pointing at the little drawing of Moon, Gregory looks up at you.

“Er,” you stutter, glancing at Sun, “That’s Mr. Sunny’s brother. But he’s, um, he’s busy right now, so he can’t play.” 

“Are you married to him too?” 

Your face goes hot, holding out your hands in front of you. “Oh, no,” you say, eyes snapping to the kid, who just looks between you and Sun. “We– We’re not–” 

“Of course we are! We had a honeymoon and everything!” the animatronic chimes in behind you, much to your embarrassment. “Moonie and I are both married to them! But we have to share, sharing is caring! Well, heh, sharing isn’t always EASY. But it’s so so SOOO worth it with Sunshine!” 

Oh. That’s…actually pretty sweet of him. You can’t help but smile. 

Gregory doesn’t seem to read the room well. “Ewww,” he says, sticking his tongue out. “Gross.”

Holding out his hands, Sun’s eyes widen. “NO, no friend, it’s not gross! Not gross at all! Being in love is the most WONDERFUL feeling, ESPECIALLY when it’s our Sunbeam! It makes you all filled with HAPPY little butterflies! We’d give the whole WORLD for our Sunshine, yes yes yes!” he proclaims loudly, giggling to himself and swaying side to side. 

You freeze, your face quickly burning as his words soak in. 

Did he just say that he’s…? 

“Here!” Gregory exclaims, shoving the drawing into your face. You grab it, pulling it back to look. In your momentary distraction, he’d managed to doodle himself now in the picture, sitting up on Sun’s shoulders. 

“Oh my gosh,” you murmur, beaming. This is just too cute. Any reluctance towards sheltering this kid melts away as you look at him. “You’re quite the artist,” you tell him, patting his head and handing the picture back. 

He grins at you, taking the paper and rushing over to Sun. The animatronic takes one look at it and lets out a robotic sort of squeal, immediately putting his hands underneath Gregory’s armpits and hoisting him up. Gregory laughs as he’s placed on top of the Sun’s shoulders just like in his drawing. 

“Sunshine,” Sun says with awe in his eyes somehow, “We’re keeping him.” 

“Wh– Sunny, that’s kidnapping!” you exclaim with a snort, shaking your head. 

“Then we’ll adopt him!” he argues, slowly walking across the plush flooring as Gregory holds up his arms victoriously. “Married couples have kids, right? Yes, YES they DO! I can be your Papa, little Gregory! How’s that sound, friend? It’ll be SO much FUN!” 

“Yeah!” the kid shouts in agreement, pumping his fists. 

Oh dear lord. First marriage, then the honeymoon, and now a kid? Sounds pretty freaking domestic to you. Maybe you really are more to the daycare attendant than you initially thought.

You let out a sigh as Sun happily parades Gregory around the daycare. You’re going to have to have a very long talk with him after this.

You’re beginning to think allowing Gregory, a child who you know has been here for multiple hours and is probably in the peak of a massive sugar high from all the Fizzy Fazz you know he’s consumed, and Sun, a hyper animatronic who literally cannot run out of energy (just battery), to be spending the early morning hours of the night together. 

Because your mild headache is going to turn into a mind-splitting painfest pretty soon if you don’t do something about it. 

You silently wonder just how many Sunnydrops Sun must have given the kid for him to be running around the daycare as fast as he is, chasing down the giant animatronic in a game of tag. Gosh, you wish you had that much energy right now. Maybe a coffee might do you some good. 

Deciding that’s a good idea in order to actually stay awake with these two all night, you excuse yourself from the daycare, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll be right back, Sunny! Gonna get a coffee.” 

Sun stops running, turning back to look at you. “Buh-bye, Sunshine! Maybe you can play with us when you get back, that would be AMAZING!” 

You laugh, closing the door behind you as you hear Gregory scream, “Gotcha!” Seems like your distraction was enough to give him an edge over Sun. You smile as their laughter dissipates down the hall the farther from the daycare you get, slowly walking towards the employee lounge. You just hope there aren’t any security guards there, you really don’t want to have to explain all this to them. 

Thankfully for you, the lounge is empty when you enter, left abandoned as everyone else is out doing their jobs or getting a night of rest. You wish that could be you right now, sleep sounds wonderful. But, you think as you slip a dollar bill into the coffee machine, you suppose you are having fun. Even if you were terrible at it, bowling with Moon was quite entertaining, and Gregory sure complements Sun’s energy quite well…

You hardly even notice when the lights flicker the first time, too intent on watching the hot coffee slowly fill up your cup. But the second time it happens your head snaps up, looking upward in alarm. Oh dear, is it really the end of the hour already? A quick glance at your watch tells you that, yes, it is, and that you probably should have kept a better eye on the time. 

Not waiting for your coffee to finish filling up, you snatch it from the machine and quickly exit the employee lounge. You’re aware of the coffee spilling out onto the floor, but you’ll have to go back and clean that up later. 

With one last flicker, the lights shut off completely, engulfing the building in inky blackness. You fumble to grab your flashlight from your pocket, holding your coffee in one hand and your light in the other as you illuminate your path, hurrying back to the daycare. 

“Hey!” you yell as you shove open the doors when you arrive, shining your light around to try to find them. “Are you guys…” You trail off, finally stopping your light on the two. They both freeze as soon as they see you. “...alright?” You meet Moon’s glowing red eyes, which appear extremely guilty in this moment as he holds a poor Gregory by the shoulders high above the ground. Immediately, he drops the kid. 

“Ow…” Gregory groans as he hits the plush floor, glaring up at the animatronic. “What was that for, you jerk?” 

“I’ll say,” you voice as you walk over to them next to the security desk. “Moon, what the heck was that about?” 

The Moon, now being addressed by you, seems to shake himself from his stupor, crouching down to be at your level and twisting his faceplate to the side. “Naughty, naughty child,” he rasps, his gaze flicking to Gregory as the kid stands. “Past his bedtime, must be sleeping.” 

Rubbing your temple, you set your cup of coffee down on top of the desk. “Listen, I know it’s your job to put the kids to sleep, but this is different, and–”

“No, no,” the animatronic interrupts anyway, slinking over towards the naptime mats and blankets, “Children must be sleeping, go to bed, little one, time for sleep.” 

With a sigh, you realize you aren’t going to get him to let go of this. You turn back to Gregory, bending down to meet his wary eyes. “I’m sorry he dropped you like that,” you say, glancing at him to make sure he didn’t injure himself, “Moon’s usually very nice, I…don’t really know what that was about.” 

Shaking his head, Gregory waves it off. “It’s alright, I am a little sleepy,” he replies, adding a yawn for emphasis. You give him a relieved smile, glad he’s going to work with you here. 

“I’ll be sure to wake you up before six, alright?” you tell him, ruffling his hair as you stand. “Moon’s right, though, it’s late. Let’s get you all cozy.” With a nod, Gregory allows you to lead him to the naptime corner, where Moon is already waiting with blankets and a mat for the child to sleep on. He looks relieved to be able to get some rest, a surprise to you seeing just how energetic he was barely five minutes ago. 

You watch as the animatronic does his job, setting down the mat and ushering Gregory to lay down, covering him with a pile of blankets so high it makes Gregory laugh, struggling to move beneath them. It’s really nice how much these animatronics care for the children like this, even if it is their programming. 

“Nighty night,” Moon says to him softly once he has a sufficient number of blankets covering him. Satisfied, he slowly steps back over to you, silently ushering for the two of you to go to the other end of the daycare where you won’t disturb Gregroy’s rest.

“Hmmmm,” the Moon hums as the two of you approach the ball pit. He shakes his head, tutting. “No no, this won’t do, won’t do at all.” 

You furrow your eyebrows at him, confused, as he surveys the area surrounding you. “Won’t do for what?” you ask quietly. 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he catches you by surprise as he wraps his arm around your waist, the wire from above hooking onto his back before the two of you are lifting off into the air. You barely manage to stop yourself from letting out a shriek, gripping onto him more harshly than need be as he brings you to the balcony of his room. 

“Really? Again?” you hiss at him as he sets you down, still shaken up by the suddenness of his actions. Moon seems to find it amusing, snickering as his faceplate rotates in a circle. 

“Mmmm, wanted to be alone,” he says, stepping past you into the messy room. Slowly, you follow. You’ve been in here before, but only a few times, and never for long. Just to retrieve the animatronic or to grab something he needed, never to stay. But it saddens you sometimes to see just how much of a mess it is compared to how insistent the Daycare Attendant is to keep things neat and organized. 

“Er, and why’s that?” you ask, your eyes falling back onto Moon. To some people, those glowing red pupils would be creepy. But you’re far too used to them by now. You can only find them endearing. (And maybe that’s only because you’re a little more fond of him than you should be, but that’s not the point.) 

“Need to talk, talk with our Starlight,” is his reply as he walks over to a small pile of pillows on the floor and sits. He pats the spot next to him, motioning you to sit beside him. 

“Oh,” you say as you walk over. “Well, I wanted to talk to Sunny, so this works, since you guys can, like, communicate, right?” 

“Mmhmmm,” Moon hums as you take a seat. Just as you’re about to ask him what it is that he wanted to talk to you about, he cuts in, “You’ve noticed, yes? Such a keen eye, know you’ve realized something is… off about your sunny little friend.” 

You just look at him. You hadn’t recognized you were being so obvious about it. 

The animatronic laughs when you nod your head. “Then allow me to explain, Starshine.” 

Sun is beginning to freak out. 

He can only watch as you sit there with Moon, the confusion evident in your eyes and oh, gosh, nonono, Moon is going to ruin everything! 

“Moon? Moonie?” he says desperately in their shared headspace, anxiety gnawing at him. “Moon, please, come on! They’re going to HATE us! NO nonono!” 

“Would you be quiet?” his counterpart snaps back in their mind at the same time he tells you, “You would like to know, yes?” 

Oh, no, this is bad, this is very bad. Moon can’t tell you that! You– you can’t know that! It’s bad, against the rules, he can’t let you know!

But Moon doesn’t seem to care. He twists his faceplate at you, awaiting your answer. “And…Sunny is okay with me knowing?” you ask tentatively. It makes Sun breathe a sigh of relief. 

“NO, I am very NOT okay with it!” he exclaims angrily, but he falls on deaf ears. 

Moon snickers. “Yes, yes, he’s just fine with it,” he says, lies, and Sun gasps. 

“MOON, STOP it! They CAN’T know that!” 

But unfortunately for him, his words have no effect. “You already told them, idiot,” he says in their headspace, effectively shutting the Sun up. He what?! “Maybe, juuust maybe, you should watch, watch what you say, Sunny.” 

“Oh, hush!” Sun yells in response, panic building up inside of him. “When, WHEN? When did I SAY it?” 

“Rambling,” Moon replies simply through a giggle. Sun wants to scream. This guy is so aggravating! 

But he has bigger things to worry about than some annoyance when relief floods your features and you ask, “Alright, then what is it?” 

Sun freezes, watching in horror at the curiosity on your face. Nonononono, what if Moon was lying? What if you don’t know? He can’t– He can’t do this–

Moon, the absolute jerk, narrows his eyes at you. “It’s funny, sooo funny, been bugging poor Sunny all day,” he leers. “He’s grown fond, very, very fond of his little Sunshine.” 

Oh, gosh, oh, stars, this is it. Sun is going to lose your friendship forever, all because of the incompetence of his counterpart, nononono why does it have to go like this? This is the worst. The absolute worst. You’re going to hate him–

“Oh,” you say, those adorable eyebrows of yours still furrowed. “And by that you mean…?” 

The Moon just laughs as Sun internally flips out. “Don’t you dare, Moonie, PLEASE don’t tell them!” Sun pleads, terrified of what your reaction will be.

Just as he fears Moon is about to ruin his life forever, the lights above flicker. It's…the end of the cycle. The realization hits him like a freight train. It’s the end of the cycle! Moon doesn’t have the time to tell you, he’s saved!

You glance up at the ceiling as the lights flicker again, signaling that they’re about to turn back on. But, as if just to spite him, Moon lets out one last laugh and says, “Little Sunny looooooves you.” 

…Never mind.

Sun hates him.

The lights flash back on before Sun is able to see the look on your face, his rays popping out of his head and his body brightening to his usual yellow color scheme as Moon retreats back into their head space instead.

And now you’re staring at him instead of Moon. 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

He jumps, reeling back the moment his eyes meet yours. “Ah, Sunshine! How– How NICE to see you again! How about we go wake up our little friend, and– and we can–” He cuts himself off, seeing the blank look on your face. Oh, nononono, are you mad at him? Oh, he knew this would happen! This is exactly why he never wanted you to know! 

“Sunny,” you say, only making him worry more. This cannot be happening. He avoids your eyes, staring intently at the ground. “Is that true?” 

If he had lungs, Sun is sure they would stop working. His inner mechanics are clicking and whirring frantically, his fans going into overdrive to keep his body temperatures from rising as he grips his rays. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorrysorrysorry,” he rambles, pulling hard on his rays. “Won’t– Won’t happen again, ‘m soooo sorry Sunshine– Didn’t mean– Moon, he, he–” His voice fizzes out into static, eyes shut tight. Nooonononono this is so bad, so awful, you must absolutely hate him, never want to see him again, and, and, and–

Sun freezes at the warm feeling of your hand against his cheek. “Sun, Sunny, calm down, it’s alright,” you say softly, holding his faceplate in your palms. Slowly, he opens his eyes to look at you, seeing the warm smile that’s illuminating your face. (Gosh, you’re so stunning.) 

“Sun…shine?” he warbles, voice soft and staticky. 

What he doesn’t expect is for your smile to grow and, in the blink of an eye, for you to lean forward and press a kiss against the mouth of his faceplate. He lets out a noise of surprise, hands immediately falling to your shoulder as you… kiss him. It might not be quite the same for him, seeing as he has no functioning mouth, but it still ignites a fluttering feeling in his stomach, like he could fly.

When you pull away from him, face burning and still smiling, Sun realizes just how much of an idiot he’d been. “Oh,” he says, staring at you with his hand covering his mouth. “Ohhhh. I– I never messed anything up, did I?” 

You stare at him for a long moment before letting out a snort and laughing. “No, Sunny,” you say, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “No, you didn’t.” 

Hopeful, Sun can’t help but ask you, “So…does– does this mean…?” 

“Yeah,” you say, reaching up on your tiptoes. “I love you too. Both of you.” 

That’s when Moon decides to pipe up. “What?” he says, voice laced with shock. It’s enough to make Sun giggle despite still being mad at him. “They what? Sun, our Little Star…?” 

“Sounds like they do,” Sun replies out loud, meeting your eyes as you tilt your head in questioning. 

“What did he say?” you ask, stars practically in your eyes. 

The opportunity for revenge is too tempting not to take. 

“Sunny, I swear–” 

“He says he loves you too,” replies the Sun, internally berating his counterpart for his actions. This is the perfect form of payback. Karma is beautiful. 

“Sunny,” Moon growls at him. 

“Awww,” you coo, grinning ear to ear. “I’m glad. Because I love the two of you very, very much.” 

Sun doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. 

“EWWW, get a room!”

Your face falls. “GREGORY!” 

(You’ve never come so close to hitting a child.)