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In the quiet emptiness of the hallway, it's all too easy to get lost in your own thoughts.
You stare down at the collection of items in your hands with only the soft echo of Christmas music coming from the end of the hall leading to the living room — soothing, but distant. It has been playing since you woke up earlier that day and the sound has all but fallen into the background of the afternoon chill.
In one of your hands are several old shopping bags stuffed with ribbons, tape and various other supplies for wrapping gifts that you've accumulated over the years. In the other is a relatively small bundle of multicolored lights that have seen far better days. The strands are criss-crossed over one another in giant knots of plastic and unlit bulbs. Is it worth it to untangle them...?
Normally, your answer might have been a solid 'no'.
It isn't because you dislike the holidays or the activities related to them (absolutely not!) but simply because you rarely have a need to pull much out. Ever since moving to this apartment on your own, you didn't exactly have much of a reason to decorate for the holidays — less so after leaving the Pizzaplex when bills got heavier on your shoulders and another job offered higher pay. It was an at-home job doing database work, but... you missed seeing other people. With friends and family so far away, it meant a lot to have even a stupid little holiday party with faces you were somewhat familiar with, even if the pizza and copious amounts of Fizzy Faz served were convenient tax write-offs.
The last two Christmases were spent alone, so you never bothered to pull out much more than a small, cheap tree and some ornaments to decorate its scraggly limbs. It wasn't lonely per se, but...
A loud crash pulls you out of your thoughts. Dropping everything in your hands, you run out of the closet and immediately start to think the worst. There are plenty of boxes in the room you'd sent Eclipse to look through, and if he managed to topple them all...
"Are you okay?" you call out, hurrying down the hallway to find where your housemate had been rummaging through the rest of your old decorations. Worry starts to well up in your chest when you don't get an answer. "... Eclipse?"
"Y-Yes yes! I am alright!" a familiar, bright voice all but chirps before stepping around the corner. He looks entirely unfazed, outside of being covered in several long strings of Christmas lights and smiling like an idiot. "There was a lot of stuff to go through in your office — you had lots of boxes stacked up veeery precariously! But don't worry-"Eclipse gestures to the big tub of loosely packed ornaments he holds like a treasure. "-we made sure these didn't hit the ground!"
Relief flickers across your face for a moment before you start to laugh, the sound filling the air around you and echoing within the snug space of the hallway.
"Oh, those are all plastic ornaments," you say, patting one of Eclipse's arms. "It will take more than a little fall to break them. I think I keep the good ornaments in my bedroom closet."
Eclipse peers down at the container in his arms, then tilts his head curiously. It isn't hard for the animatronic to look endearing, but the fact that he is entirely covered in tangled lights is only making it worse. You reach out and gently try to remove the strands caught between his rays.
"I assume you found all..." you gesture at his entire body and the lights dangling over his face. "All this in there too?"
"Yup!" he nods, smile never fading. "The lights were on top of the box in a big big bundle and... well, it fell down, but we saved these since we thought they were important..."
His expression droops for a moment, but you gently pat the side of Eclipse's faceplate. His eyes lift and meet with yours and, for a breath, you feel your heart begin to race. It takes several seconds before you realize that your fingertips are lingering against the cool metal. You pull them away abruptly, heat spreading across your cheeks.
"That... was very considerate of you," you say with a smile, words honest and praying that he wasn't paying too much attention to the fact that you couldn't quite meet his glowing gaze. "I haven't actually pulled these out in a few years. I... I think they'd look really nice on the tree, if you want to help with that."
The animatronic instantly beams with joy and sprints to the living room before you even have a moment to try and untangle the lights from his body.
Christmas Eve comes and goes with very little fanfare, a lovely and peaceful evening spent in the company of someone you cherish. A friend — and nothing different, though your mind often wandered back to the moment of brief intimacy shared in the hallway; the way your eyes met with his like a spark of electricity, and your heart felt all too tight in your chest.
Just friends. Companions of fate so tightly bound together that you still wonder what possessed you all those months ago to climb through the crumbling skeleton of the old Pizzaplex.
Was it guilt? Curiosity? You'll never quite know the answer, since whatever compelled you was quickly overwhelmed by the shock of seeing the daycare attendant still functioning. Mostly functioning.
You and Eclipse spend the evening together in the living room, gazing at the tree and reminiscing about inconsequential memories of the old Pizzaplex and daycare alike. It was unknown for a while after taking him home if Eclipse could even access Sun and Moon's memory; he explained early on that he himself was something of a backup subsystem, almost like booting up a computer in a safety mode to diagnose errors and issues plaguing it otherwise.
It had been awkward for a month or so, but the two of you grew close rather quickly — especially once time allowed memories and personality quirks to seep into Eclipse's own sense of self: Moon's soft but mischievous nature, Sun's near-overwhelming need to be helpful. It shouldn't have been surprising how they fit so well together, but you still often found yourself wondering about how it all worked inside of the animatronic's mind.
You take a slow, careful sip of the hot drink in your hands. It's sweet, the aroma filling the air as you raise it up to your lips and let its flavor settle over your tongue. It's a nice contrast to the stark chill outside your apartment, making its heat feel all the more comforting as you stare at the tree.
"I think we did a good job!" you finally say, tilting your head just slightly to the side. "And the ornaments are only a liiiitle crooked."
"Are they?" Eclipse asks, tone sounding almost worried as he brings a hand up to the lower half of his faceplate. "We can adjust them again if you think-"
"Eclipse no, no I don't-" you laugh, managing to reach an arm out to keep the bot from moving off the couch beside you without choking on your drink. "It was just a joke. Promise. Besides, it's nicer if things aren't perfect."
He looks at you, silent for a few moments, then slowly leans back into the couch again. That's Sun for you, eager as always to jump and fix a problem...
The lights twinkle in multicolored splendor across the deep green of the fake tree, accented by bits and bobs of ornaments you had collected over the years — many of them were hand-made, either gifted by friends or given to you by the children of the daycare back when you managed that part of the facility. While time has blurred the memories, there are still a couple you can remember clearly, though that might be due to the fact that the ornaments are labeled with the kids' names in various colors of marker, paint and glitter glue.
"Pretty..."
Eclipse's soft whisper catches your attention and makes you giggle. "Yeah," you nod in agreement, turning and looking towards him. "The lights are really-"
Oh. He'd been looking at you.
Both of your gazes lock together for a moment before the bot averts his eyes quickly, the entire exchange only taking a moment or two but feeling almost like an eternity as heat rises up into your cheeks for a second time that day.
"I uh." You try to collect your thoughts, then nod towards the tree. "I think you did a good job on getting those lights untangled! I would have just tossed them out."
Eclipse hums, gaze trailing towards the tree. "Thank you," he says. "It wasn't too hard to do! Just takes time to unravel everything properly."
You feel impressed for a few moments before remembering that Eclipse — Sun and Moon, to be specific — are likely programmed with enough patience to tolerate such a herculean feat. When compared to dealing with a horde of small children on a daily basis, untangling a few sets of Christmas lights is nothing more than child's play (pun certainly not intended).
You sip your drink silently, trying not to think about how gently he had looked at you.
The evening is peaceful and sweet.
"Merry Christmas!"
Eclipse's voice is a bright ray of warmth amidst the frigid backdrop of winter.
You almost don't see him as you step into the room, bleary eyes blinking away the last drops of sleep; you might have slept a few hours longer if Eclipse hadn’t sent you a flurry of text messages begging you to wake up.
The bot looks at you from the other side of the couch, rays twitching with excitement. He leans forward on his knees as if eagerly waiting for your reply.
"Merry Christmas to you too, buddy," you murmur with a smile. After a moment, you narrow your gaze and raise a brow. "Have you been... sitting there all night? "
"Not all night," he corrects, glowing eyes glancing off to the side. "We needed to spend an hour or so in the kitchen to charge, but... well, we were just too excited ! We want to open open open the presents under the tree!"
He shifts more onto the couch, making your face crane upwards to keep his gaze. It's easy to forget how tall Eclipse is when he's almost constantly hunching over or sitting on the floor beside you. He's simply excited, so the looming shadow overhead is hardly frightening even as he claps his hands together with a loud metallic thunk.
"And we want to watch you open your present too!"
The gesture brings a smile to your still-tired lips. Glancing behind him at the multicolored shapes sitting innocently beneath the belighted tree, you have to wonder, what in the world could he have gotten for you? It's not as if Eclipse has the ability to leave the house to purchase a gift, and you haven’t noticed him working on anything recently...
Curiosity wins out in the end, though you wouldn’t be able to deny the over-enthusiastic animatronic such a simple joy for long, especially not with that adorable, pleading look on his faceplate.
After all, had the animatronics of the Pizzaplex ever truly been able to celebrate the holidays? Outside of trying to sell something, of course — the Fazbear Corporation wasn't one to let a chance at profit slip away from them so easily — you don't recall there ever being a lot of opportunities for Sun or Moon to get into the spirit of things themselves.
Sure, there were special crafts for the kids and a change in the decorations strewn about the facility, but… In a way, this really is Eclipse's first ever Christmas.
"Let me get something warm to drink," you finally say, smile never dropping from your lips at the thought. "And then we can open presents, m’kay?"
The bot's excited shouts echo into the kitchen as you step through the archway separating the rooms. It doesn't take very long to prepare something hot to sip on, yet by the time you return to the living room, Eclipse is already sitting beside the tree and staring intently at the wrapped gifts beneath it.
"They're not going anywhere," you tease as you step around him and sit down on the couch. The cushions sink pleasantly beneath your weight, soft and warm, and it's only then that you realize just how cold the air feels; you’ll have to get up in a bit to make sure your heater isn't acting up again. "You'll survive waiting just a little bit longer, you dork."
It's hard not to feel amused by the way Eclipse looks at you, annoyed and restless, so much like a child told to be patient. He's all but leaning against the side of the tree, waiting for the first syllable of permission to grab the golden-wrapped box nearest where he's sitting.
"We've been waiting for exactly ten hours and thirty-seven minutes!" he says pointedly. "And technically you are the one who's late to opening the gifts. I had to wake you up!"
You lift an eyebrow as you sip the hot liquid. "... And what happened to 'not being up all night'?"
Eclipse makes a low, scoffing noise but otherwise doesn't offer an answer. He simply turns his attention back towards the presents and stares at them again, so hard that it's almost like he’s trying to see through the obstructive layers to the gift within.
There's a soft whisper in the back of your head idly musing to itself — how long can Eclipse be patient? You have half a mind to find out, perhaps even making him wait until you’ve finished your drink and gone to check the thermostat, but... No, you're not quite that cruel.
"Alright then," you giggle, setting the mug down and climbing off the couch to sit cross-legged on the floor beside him. "Pick out a gift to open up." Beneath the fake green branches are a variety of boxes decorated in several different kinds of wrapping paper, so you take a moment to direct Eclipse's excitement by pointing them out. "Yours are wrapped in the sparkly gold paper, Sun's is the yellow polka-dot, and Moon's is the dark blue with the little stars."
You'd almost feel a little silly in wrapping their gifts up individually if you didn't already know how much Eclipse appreciated the distinction. Sun and Moon's individual processors and coding are still in self-repair mode, but you like the idea that they could still enjoy the holiday through Eclipse's eyes when they finally ‘wake’ back up.
"Can I... can I open them all?" Eclipse asks, picking up one of the blue boxes and giving it a gentle, experimental shake.
You nod, feeling more and more embarrassed as the words fall from your tongue. "Yeah! I figured that as long as they could like, see through your eyes when you opened the presents that it would... I dunno, I hope I didn't misunderstand when you said you could recall each other's memories..."
"Oh! No, you didn't misunderstand!" Eclipse sets the gift down and reaches out a hand to touch your cheek. The gesture is meant to be reassuring — he tends to use physical touch a lot when comforting someone — but his cool silicone fingertips feel like ice against your searing hot skin. "We just want to make sure we're following correct traditional expectations. On the internet, it said that it's rude to open presents for other people on Christmas."
You blink. Though you feel almost endeared by how sweet and polite he is, a detail sticks out in Eclipse's words that gives you a moment of pause.
"The internet?"
Eclipse's expression freezes. He pulls his hand back after a moment, looking decidedly more sheepish than before as his eyes flick back and forth to little parts of the living room that certainly aren’t as interesting as he makes them seem.
"Eclipse," you say gently. "Since when did you have access to the internet when I’m not around?"
After recovering him from the broken facility, you took every precaution to keep the animatronic safe — and that included the possibility of him getting a virus from a direct connection to your home's internet. Sure, you have a great anti-virus, a strong firewall and VPN since your job requires it, but you aren’t sure what kind of security programs Eclipse himself has onboard his processors.
Though there is a good chance that Fazco outfitted all of their animatronics with something to keep their software safe, you can't take any chances. You know of only one old programmer that had worked on Sun and Moon before the fire. His contact number is safely tucked away on your phone, but you don't want to know how much he'd charge to repair Eclipse if the bot stumbles into the dark corners of the web.
It’s why you prefer to let him use your phone or tablet to amuse himself when you can keep an eye on him. More often than not, Eclipse was entertained by pet videos and video game playthroughs, so it never occurred to you that he’d try to connect himself directly if he had no need to do so.
You must be staring at him pretty hard while everything parses through your brain, because after a few seconds Eclipse starts to tilt his faceplate this way and that, his body language growing jittery in the same way that Sun’s does when he's nervous. Wringing his hands together. Unsure where to let his eyes fall. Anxious .
"We didn't connect directly to the internet, for the record!" the bot finally exclaims. "No broken rules whatsoever! We just..." he pauses, then quickly grabs a box wrapped in red and white-striped paper. You know it's one you didn’t wrap even before seeing the little tag taped in the corner with your name on it.
Though a part of your mind would like to continue questioning his little internet secret, curiosity has been gnawing at everything since he mentioned there was a gift for you . Even if it was little more than a kid's art project, the gesture alone makes you feel almost giddy. He went out of his way to make sure you had something under the tree, even though you had told him many times over that it didn't matter — you have the financial stability to get yourself something nice every now and again, and it was more important that he had something to look forward to. That he got a really nice Christmas experience. For all that Eclipse has been through over the last several months (perhaps even years ) it's the least that he deserves right now.
So to be genuinely surprised by a gift is... really nice. It makes something twist up gently in the center of your chest that you can't quite identify.
"Alright, alright," you giggle, shifting so that you can set the box down over your crossed legs and start tearing the thin paper away in long strips. Unsurprisingly, a simple cardboard box lies beneath, easily opened with a few careful tugs at the folded flaps.
Initially, all you can see within is a small mountain of bubble wrap. It takes a few seconds to pull most of it out, but eventually you reveal a shiny metallic form hidden within one last layer of bubble wrap carefully packed around it.
Pulling the item out and unrolling the protective layers, you realize that it's a music box sitting in your palms. It's relatively small — barely larger than a fist — and it looks familiar.
There used to be a gift shop at the Pizzaplex, and this one almost resembles the little music boxes sold there, but not exactly. Those were minuscule things, cheap to produce and capable of playing a thin, tinny version of various jingles heard around the facility, one of them being the Superstar Daycare theme, but… you had really wanted one of them. Silly, yeah, but you often caught yourself thinking ‘ I’ll buy one with the next paycheck ’ whenever you passed by the shop, and then coming across another bill that needed to be paid first.
This one mimics the overall design of a jack-in-the-box, with a bent handle jutting out of one side and a flat top that looks like it might open up if you start to wind it. A few tiny marks of imperfection speak to it being handmade; the metal is bent a little too much on the edges, and there are places where the paint hasn’t been applied smoothly. It's colored red on one side and a deep navy blue on the other with little stars speckled across the entire thing, though it's the carefully embossed shapes of a sun and crescent moon that catch your attention most.
"It's... beautiful, Eclipse. I love it."
Your words are little more than a soft whisper, stilted despite your attempts to hide the emotions plaguing them. There's something so personable about the gift that you can't quite put a finger on, and it weighs pleasantly heavy in your hands and heart alike.
Movement in the corner of your eye pulls your attention away from the item in your hands. Eclipse has shifted quite a bit closer to you, so much that when you look up, you find his faceplate barely more than a few inches away from your face. He reaches down, one palm cupping around the back of your hands to stabilize the music box while his other hand slowly winds it up. All the while, your thoughts linger over how gentle and large his hands are, practically engulfing yours against his flat palm.
The sweet sound of the daycare jingle fills the air with gentle, dulcet tones.
"We made this," he says so quietly that you might have missed the words if he wasn't so close to you. "It took a long time. You said you liked being in the daycare, that you wanted one of the music boxes so... we thought you'd like to have your own."
There are layers of meaning in those words; nostalgia for a time when things were less lonely, bitterness for the fact you'll never be able to experience it again, and an overwhelming sense of heaviness that you can't begin to decipher properly. What... is this feeling? It makes your chest ache and your eyes start to water, wet heat building up behind your sight until you realize that everything has started to go blurry.
That heat bubbles up until it's too much, then starts to roll down your cheeks in heavy droplets.
Ah. That's what's happening now, huh?
"Eclipse..."
You truly don't mean for your lip to quiver when you say his name. Nor do you mean to look so pathetic when his gaze meets yours — just a few inches of space between you both. Close enough to see the way his mechanical irises twitch and focus.
The bot suddenly freezes in place at the sound of your voice, entire body going stiff as ice for a silent heartbeat before his words start to run into one another.
"O-Oh my— We're— we're so sorry, sorry we didn't mean to make you cry oh goodness no we're so sorry starlight we didn't realize-" He fumbles his hands around yours as if to take the offensive item away, but you wrap your fingers so tightly around the metal shape with firm denial that it almost hurts.
"N-no!" It's hard to sound convincing when tears are actively dripping down your cheeks. "It's okay. I promise. I'm just- It's a really, really sweet gift. I wasn't expecting it to... hah, I'm just a bit more emotional about it than I thought I'd be."
A bit more emotional is a severe understatement, but it's hard to pinpoint why something so simple makes you feel as though your heart is about to burst right from your chest. It takes a moment, holding tight to your assurance and the music box both before Eclipse's body loosens up.
"It's... it's good?"
You nod. "Yeah! It's such a thoughtful gift, you... obviously put a lot of work into it." More work than you thought he'd be able to do, given the fact that you didn't have any metalworking tools available in the house. Or paint. Actually... "How in the world were you able to even make this?"
Eclipse is silent for a moment, still for just a breath before his fingertips begin rubbing idle circles into the back of your hands. He looks sheepish and fidgety again, but this time, you genuinely want to know what he's trying to keep secret and aren’t afraid to push the question.
"Eclipse..."
"So, you know when you take trips into town to do your errands?" he offers after a moment.
You nod. Even while working from home, you still need to get groceries and take care of the random tasks that come up every now and again. "Well, we... We found out that the library down the road has a little workshop. A-and the people who work there are really, really nice!"
Oh.
Oh god.
"You left the house?"
Eclipse immediately lifts his hands and waves them apologetically. "W-We didn't go far! Not far at all, just a few minutes walk away! W-we even made sure it was okay, emailed the librarian and asked if we were allowed to use the workshop!"
You groan. Eclipse is half-right on where your worry lay with him leaving the safety of your house, but he doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that he is a seven-odd-foot tall animatronic with no ability to pass as human . Granted, Fazco was all but driven out of town after the fire decimated the old facility, but you can’t risk someone identifying Eclipse and trying to claim him as company property.
The music box is still playing, though the tune has slowed down slightly. Maybe it's the soft sounds, maybe it's the heat in your chest — maybe it's the way Eclipse is looking at you with such wide, sad eyes that it's hard to stay mad — but you feel your anger yield to weary amusement.
"So you actually snuck away every time I went to get groceries?"
"Not every time," Eclipse denies. "Just... here and there since you mentioned wanting a music box." His words and expression grow warm, and for a moment you can almost swear that his faceplate is radiating heat. "Everyone there was really nice to me. Promise! When we told them what we were trying to do, they even showed me how to use the equipment and gave us materials to use since we said we, uh, didn't have any money."
"Well," you sigh, "I'll have to thank them sometime." And make sure nobody is going to report this to the police, or worse, a company lawyer.
As the tune of the music box winds down, finally going silent halfway through its melody, you come to realize that Eclipse hasn't moved. He's still hovering, faceplate so close that you can see all the little movements of his lips, as if there's something else he wants to say.
In fact, he's close enough that you can...
It all happens faster than your brain can process. Your body leans forward, face tilting up, lips parted ever so slightly. Eclipse's mouth is made of the same soft silicon covering his fingers and hands, made to be flexible and resilient so that he could be expressive and friendly-looking. You once wondered what those lips might feel like against yours, but nothing in the world could have prepared you when you close the inches of empty space between your faces.
Soft. They feel so... soft. And warm too, since you were absolutely right about Eclipse's faceplate heating up. Though you desperately want it to be anything but, the kiss is quick and awkward. It's only when he moves against you that reason and logic catch up with instinct and impulse.
You pull back suddenly, eyes wide and cheeks hot as fire while your brain desperately tries to come up with a worthwhile reply. Broken noises are all that falls from your lips however, bits and pieces of his name intermixed with something vaguely sounding like an apology.
Fear clutches your heart as it starts to race. You begin to push away, hoping that space might help you process your swirling thoughts, but Eclipse swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, preventing your escape.
"No," he says, plucking the music box from your hands and gently setting it down beside the two of you. Though his words could be considered shy or bashful, Eclipse's tone is firm and low. "Do that... do that again?"
You can say no.
You can tell him to let you go, and there's not a doubt in your mind that he would do so instantly. But... there's a part of you that doesn't want him to, a part that's been worming through your mind and in your chest ever since the first night he'd been with you — his hands on your back and his voice in your ear, soothing you through one of the most terrifying nightmares you'd ever had in your life.
Instead of saying anything at all, you simply lean forward and press your lips to his again.
This time it's less awkward, one moment blurring into the next as he learns how to reciprocate the motion and allow his mouth to meld against your own. The kiss is a little wetter than you expect, but that's only until you realize that there's a tongue gently pressing at the seam of your lips. You part them instinctively and allow Eclipse to taste you, one hand still on the small of your back as the other reaches up to cradle the back of your head.
It's so hot, so soft, so... so nice, actually. Your own hands are grasping at the loose shirt he wears, some old hand-me-down piece that fits him better than it ever did yourself. The fabric crumples in your fists and helps to anchor you while emotions swirl around like a storm.
And then, slowly, it's done. Eclipse pulls his faceplate back and looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, their glow so bright that it's as if you're looking into the sun itself, but they dim quickly, blinking as the two of you let the moment catch up with your bodies.
There's a quiet emptiness in the living room, the air still around you and Eclipse both. It settles for a few seconds, then fills with warmth that seems to emanate deep within your chest and lifts the corners of your lips into a shy smile.
"... Merry Christmas?" you finally offer, hoping the words could break the silence — and they do, leaving everything feeling cozy and comfortable as you allow Eclipse to hold your body up. He simply giggles, a smile mirrored on his expression as he looks down at you like you are the most precious thing in the world.
"Merry Christmas," he murmurs, then kisses you again.