Chapter Text
Michael felt his eyes open slowly to his small apartment’s even smaller bedroom, his uninjured hand going up to push his dark hair out of his tan face, running his hand over his eyes and facial hair. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard Jeremy make a disapproving noise, Gregory made a cat-like hiss.
“Good morning, you two,” He said with a happy grin, Gregory pulling his blanket over his head and Jeremy just holding tighter to his injured hand. “Good morning, killer robot bear.”
“Good morning, Mr Afton,” Freddy’s robotic voice said, waving sweetly as Gregory peaked his head of dark curls out from under his blanket. “I hope you had a good night's sleep.”
“I did. You, Gregory?” Michael asked, letting his hand run over the boy’s head, fingers messing up his dark hair before he heard him hiss again.
“Fuck you, Mike.” Gregory hissed, pulling his blanket around his head with a groan.
“Mikey, it’s 9 am on a Saturday morning,” Jeremy groaned out, head resting softly on his chest and hand running over the biggest scar on his arm. “We should still be asleep.”
“Waking up early helps keep a schedule, Mr Fitzgerald,” Freddy explained happily, walking out of the room and towards the kitchen probably. “I will make the coffee!”
Michael pressed a kiss to Jeremy’s face as Gregory, who had decided that he needed a hug too, tried to jam himself between him and his husband. Michael just rolled his eyes, the young boy pulling his blanket around himself snuggly, Jeremy giggling at it all as Gregory placed his head on Jeremy’s muscular bicep.
“I thought you didn’t like me?” Michael stated, the quirk of his eyebrows up making Gregory laugh.
“Correct. I don’t like you,” The young boy stated matter of factly. “I just like your husband.”
He made a mock hurt expression at that, giving his husband a look as Jeremy’s laughter became louder. “That’s quite rude.”
“Well, you’re British unironically,” Gregory said, pulling a fake British accent to complain and make fun of his accent. “And the British make me angry.”
Jeremy pulled Gregory closer to his chest, ruffling up his curls. “Well that’s not very nice, Gregory!”
Then he whispered a soft “I knew it” before Michael got out of the warm bed, skin prickling at the temperature difference, before picking Gregory up, his eyes wide as he laughed loudly.
“If I'm British unironically, then I might as well act like a Brit, you American slime!” He joked playfully, pressing a kiss to Gregory’s head before spinning them around a bit, teasing the young boy and the boy teasing back.
Jeremy was smiling and laughing with them as Gregory and Michael landed back into the bed with a flop, nearly crushing Jeremy with the force of it. “You two. What am I ever going to do with you two?”
Michael smiled, head laying in his husband’s lap as Gregory started to play with Jeremy straight, blonde hair, still giggling from being twirled. “You love it, Jere-bear.”
“Of course I love it, Mikey,” Jeremy sighed, fingers going over the exposed skin on the left side of his cheek in a soft caress. “And I love that we can all be a family now.”
“You kinda remind me of my Mamá and Dad,” Gregory says, moving over to sit to the side of him and Jeremy, hands fiddling with his shirt. “My Mamá, she kinda looks like you, Michael. But she had brown eyes and curlier hair.”
This was a rare moment, a moment where Gregory talked about his past and his biological parents. He hardly did, wanting to keep it to himself.
“What was she like?” Jeremy asked, eyes looking past Michael’s soft hair and to his eyes, giving him a reassuring smile before looking over to Gregory.
“She was a bit of an ass at times but she was sweet, kind, and taught me at a young age that I can do anything,” Gregory said.
“And your father?” Michael pressed, hoping not to scare the boy with his and Jeremy’s questioning.
They wanted to make sure that Gregory understands that he doesn’t need to worry about food, warmth, and housing anymore. Not having to worry about anything anymore.
“My dad? Well,” Gregory started, pulling his blanket around his body. “He was nice, a little hard to be around at times, with his much pressure he put on me to be a perfect son, but he always sang to me right before bed while my Mamá played the guitar. The lullaby always made me appreciate them. I know about your dad, Mike. That rotting, bunny corpse thing that killed people and nearly killed me right? William Afton?”
Jeremy noticed that he paled at his father’s name, all those unwanted memories from his childhood bubbling up to right below the surface. Michael’s eyes were watering, about to become tears and a panic attack at dare mentioning that man.
God, I’m pathetic.
Yes, yes he was.
Crying over a dead person who can hurt him anymore as his husband and child tried to comfort him and calm him down.
It should have been Evan.
Yeah, it should’ve been his head getting crushed by Fredbear or the scooper actually killing him with the first blow than Evan.
He should be the one with blood running into his eyes and lying still in the thing’s mouth.
He should be the one with red blood running down his arms and legs, drenching his clothes in the hot liquid as the bear jerked his body around.
He should be the one lying in the middle of the street, nothing but a leaking, rotting corpse that has just been discarded there.
Skin roasting in the sunshine.
How did I even get Jeremy and Gregory?
Jeremy’s nothing but a lobotomized man I took advantage of and Gregory’s but a homeless thief with stolen property that I kidnapped off the streets and took with me.
“Michael, it’s okay. He’s gone; he’s not in your head,” He heard Jeremy say, hands running frown his face and through his hair. “He’s not here.”
“I’m sorry, Michael,” Gregory apologized distantly, moving to hold his hand but pulling back at the last moment. By his frantic breaths and voice, he was crying too. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”
Weak.
Why should Michael care if he’s a weak man? He already knows that and has still shown to be stronger than his father.
Michael looked over to Gregory, his face was too similar to Evan’s. And with the tears he looked even more like him. So he sat up enough, tugged the young boy close and held him, whispering soft sorrys for frightening him and then just held him there. Jeremy just wiped away his tears, pressing soft kisses to his and Gregory’s foreheads before moving to lay with them.
“Mr Fitzgerald, do you like honey in your tea?” Freddy asked, leaning his head back into the bedroom. “Is something wrong, Mr Afton?”
He looked up, putting on a charming smile and looked at Gregory, face relaxed but still wet as he held to his uninjured hand, and to Jeremy, who was rolling his eyes at the robot bear, his scar light in the warm amber glow of the bedroom.
“No, Freddy,” He said, looking back at him before resting his head back onto the bed. “Nothing’s wrong.”