Chapter Text
The ticket counters and main entrance were still darkened. The strips of retro 80's to 90's neon lights were shut off. The stage where the Glamrocks will perform later on tonight is vacant, dull, lifeless. Everything was quiet besides the whirring of STAFFBot wheels off in the distance.
The Plex itself is closed, but it will be opened again for the day soon and you will be the average employed person doing your a tad bit more than average job. You grab your uniform, tool bag and your trusty phone and earbuds before clocking in.
You are the trusty mechanic! Not the best, certainly not the worst, just a run of the mill, rinky-dink general maintenance technician. You are in charge of the lower machines, the less-sentient ones, and clean up when things are slow and the Plex is filthy because FazCo loves multitaskers. Not enough to pay you more for it, however.
It sounds very plain explaining it like that but you had worked and studied hard to get all of your certificates needed to work here, doing what you do.
You've wanted to work at the famous franchise, fixing up or even to help build some of the animatronics you have seen and come to love since you were little, your idolization of them sparking your passion for mechanics.
Many of your childhood days were spent at the much smaller and less flashy Freddy's Pizzeria, the establishment the Plex was built on.
Literally built on top of.
That is an explanation for another story.
Your days of being a diehard FazFan started back when the band was only Freddy, Chica, Bonnie and Foxy, if you can count him as a band member. They were way less lifelike and moveable then, nothing like the animatronics you work with now. That didn't stop your awe of them, and not once, or twice, but several times you got kicked off the platforms because you wanted a close-up peek at how the animatronic's machinery ran.
Fond memories, you think. You are surprised you didn't get kicked out, looking back. Though, at that point in time there wasn't as much of a crowd, some kidnapping or something else just as tragic happened there making parents keep their children away like the plague.
Your own mother wasn't happy to take you, either, but you were persistent. Five thousand pleases and half as many puppy dog eyes later and you had your ass at the pizzeria all that summer.
You alone made up a quarter of their business with as much time you spent running around in your mechanized Heaven. While you are now proudly fully trained and certified to (and sometimes do) work on the more important attractions, like the Glamrocks and other animatronics, you were hired to fix up arcade machines and the odd ATM or vending machine here or there, do the small jobs the more experienced mechanics didn't have time for. Which you get, because even being a small-time mechanic was harrowing and stressful here. You also clean up whatever and whenever you could when you weren't fixing something.
You were sadly turned down for the engineer job you applied for, but jumped at the on-call maintenance mechanic position.
It meant you were at the Plex whenever possible, which was pretty much all the time. Your inner child was tickled to death being close to what sparked your mechanic-y passion and even more so when you could walk around the entire Plex after hours by yourself, free to gawk and study and analyze without the fear of being thrown out.
Your higher ups don't mind it, as long as you clock out at the correct time. They've even turned a blind eye to the pull out couch you shoved into that vacant glass room in Parts that you use as a bedroom. Makes the commute a breeze and you're usually never late for work.
As you wait for the elevator to take you to the main area, you tap-tap-tap your foot until you find the perfect song on your beloved phone. You twirl a well loved wire to one of your earbuds as you scroll endlessly. How long was your playlist exactly? Sheesh.
You shove both earphones in your ears, needing them flush to your brain so the music hits your soul as well.
Your hearing suffers you think, but can it really compare to the joy you feel as you are transported into your own world full of whimsy?
You listen to music and escape into your own land of make-believe, like you're doing now. Sometimes you like to read the most self-indulgent and cringe fanfictions known to man.
You even write fics, but you never really finish any. Most attempts wind up hogging up your storage space since you're too attached to delete them.
So what if you are chronically online, and live in your own dream world? You aren't hurting anyone and you pay your taxes. For the most part.
With a ding, the doors slide open, a touch too rickety for your liking but not enough for you to stop and see if it needs fixed, you walk out of the elevator and see a couple of the Glamrocks getting ready for their day as well.
You have worked here a while, but seeing the icons of your youth -minus Bonnie and Foxy- may they rest in peace, not pieces wherever they are- still puts a sparkle in your eye. It was wild thinking that you work with them, instead of watching them on stage as part of the audience.
You were one of them!
Not really, not close at all but close enough to make your inner child squeal in glee.
You wave and Freddy, ever the polite gentlebear, waves back. Monty growls and gets reprimanded by his bandmate.
Ah, you can't win them all.
While you had friends and family at home, you were having the hardest time winning over your robotic co-workers. Freddy has always been cordial with you though he is that way with everyone, Chica is friendly as long as you listen to her gossip or have something for her to eat. Monty and Roxy though, good God, they were difficult. They honestly treat you the way highschool bullies treat the nerdy kids in movies. It's funny, actually. They are the most ridiculous co-workers you have ever had. It makes their jabs and taunts sting less with how cliche they sound.
Monty shoved you into your locker once, slamming the door shut. You had to wait until someone else came down to let you out because you, being crammed into the locker unable to move, had the key to it in your pocket.
You have tried everything, and yet they still just tolerate you at best. You weren't the most social person around but you tried, at least.
Something sour balls up in your chest, tasting like acid in your throat.
Were you mature enough to admit that fifty percent of agreeing to this job was the hope that you would get to buddy up with the animatronics?
You plead the fifth.
It's officially 6AM, and your Fazwatch buzzes to let you know that and that your daily tasks are ready for you. Glancing down at your Helpi themed FazTab, you see your first job of the day and sigh.
The double-doors leading to the Daycare and theater are soon upon you, matte red and inconspicuous, looking more like a fire exit if not for the small, crude sign next to it. The cartoon-esk faces but not of your friends the only indicator that this isn't a dead end or staff quarters.
You put your hands in the pockets of your baggy jumpsuit, trying to conceal the excitement you feel. You were going to see the bestest friend you had at the PizzaPlex.
Maybe your best friend in general.
You try to play it cool. You are so, so, totally normal about them. Totally normal. You aren't fighting yourself to keep your feet on the ground, instead of skipping the rest of the way like a child.
You smile, like a fool, because that's what you do at the Daycare. You love it here, and not just because you're an overgrown child that would cut their arm off to run and play around the brightly colored tubes and ball pit, carefree.
You would do that, but that isn't the point. It's the Attendant that has captured your heart.
Your face heats up as you think about that, and you feel warm and tingly in your chest, and, oh is that butterflies?-
You don't want to talk about that right now.
The faux-oak doors to the Daycare swing open as soon as you near.
"Sunshine!" Sun's high, jovial voice rings out excitedly, like the Daycare isn't the first place you go each morning. Sun leans against the doors and holds it open for you to walk through. "There you are!!!! Oh, and I was just wondering when Fazbear's finest would show up!"
Smiling at him, you chuckle. "What is in the forecast for today, buddy? You're half an hour ‘til open." You ask, pulling your fannypack of smaller tools around so you can start gathering the supplies you'll need for your first task of the day.
Sun's rays absolutely twirl at the kind of half-joke-pun way you ask about his day. If you listened closely, they sounded similar to a pinwheel. Your mechanic's mind goes over how his mechanisms work, and you are fascinated. You've got to see his faceplate and rigging for his rays only once, when you first met. You could spend hours meticulously going over every screw, soulder, and wire and still be amazed.
You hear the whirring of his fans, and you smile knowing from the training and handbook FazCo gave you and personal experience that this is your buddy's mechanism to tell he's excited! You did something that made him feel happy! Yippee!
"Oh! We're going to do some finger paintings! I have an idea about how the kids could make little flowers using just the pads of their thumbs, and then maybe I can put on a puppet show!" Sun rambles, skipping happily behind you as you walk. He has that ‘shaking an old clock’ sound he makes as he follows you at your pace. You used to worry that he had rusted or was about to fall apart when you got acquainted. It's grown on you, and you look forward to the now comforting and familiar noise.
"The kids don't really like them all that well, the puppets... well, most of them don't but some do! And I do, I love, love, LOVE puppet shows, it reminds me of the theater." He sighs wistfully, hand over his metaphorical heart. "-But that part of me is DEAD! Dead and gone forever, just like the last time I've felt ever true happiness and the nasty old virus me and Moon had that time, never ever coming back and-" He rambles and you only catch half of it, if you're being honest.
You do enjoy the sound of his voice, though. He could go through every emotion in a single sentence. You wish you could have come during the time he was in the Theater, he must have been a hit. Well, maybe not since he got rebranded for the Daycare but you would have been entertained.
Sun exclaimed loudly, enough to cause you to jump and your heart, lungs and stomach feel like they were shoved into a vacuum sealed bag and squashed down for a moment.
"OH! I almost forgot! Management sent down this awful stuff called 'Fazzy-String'?" Sun makes a horrendous gagging noise of displeasure. "It's in these little cans and the kids can spray it at each other!" That was just unthinkable to him, with how confuzzled he was acting.
"The point of it is to get all over everything!! And just.... just torment me, I suppose." Sun trails. "I don't know where they get the ideas for stuff like that!... whoever it was, needs shot in the face." The last part he mumbles and you choose to just ignore that.
"So, it's like silly string then?" You ask instead, finding FazCo letting the Daycare kids go wild with something that could completely disrupt a code in Sun that THEY programmed him with and cause him to have a meltdown and potentially wind up in Parts & Service, just for the shits and gigs, distasteful... and highly probable. If the parents have to pay for it, highly profitable.
You walk to the back of the Daycare, to the broken FizzyFaz machine and the task you are here for, going over the atrocious foamy nightmare that will be Fazzy-string.
Sun prattles on and on about everything and nothing, which you enjoy. Your social battery is lower than you would like for it to be and Sun is easy to talk to because he does a lot of the talking.
He tells you about the new Daycare Assistant that FazCo hired, and the both of you scoff. They go through assistants like Chica does garbage.
You both take bets on how long the newbie will last.
On your walk, which seems longer than it should be and shorter somehow, you tell Sun quick, one-line jokes in between his ramblings. They're terrible but make him crack up anyways. You know if Moon was listening he would be livid over the sheer stupidity that causes his counterpart to double over and laugh the way he's doing right now.
When Sun can stop having a giggle fit, he pulls you over to look at the crafts he and the children made yesterday. It was some popsicle stick and pipe cleaner disaster that you don't have the heart to tell him looks awful.
Sun picks one up and shows you the one he did. Glue drips from his hands as he holds it up. You have no clue what it's supposed to be. Sun looks at you so expectantly, like he needs your approval like air. You can just tell he's feigning for praise even though he can't emote to save his robotic life.
You smile and nod and hope to God your acting skills are better than when you were doing theater in highschool. You look away just in case your face betrays your lies, but Sun accepts your response, chattering on and on and on.
You sigh as you see it. Your mortal enemy. The bane of your repair-personhood. The devil itself.
The broken FizzyFaz machine.
The red menace with its screen staticing like an old, busted TV. The machine has broken down, every single day, without fail, since you began working here. Sometimes two or three times a day, even.
It was broken yesterday, and will most likely be broken tomorrow. It's the first thing on your task list each morning. You don't mind having another excuse for coming to the Daycare, so silver lining there. That didn't stop it from being highly annoying. Though, you'd probably find 'things to fix' even if management didn't send you here each day, honestly. Anything to spend more time with either half of your best friend.
You walk over and try to reach the top of the machine, where the panel you need to access is at. Surprisingly, you haven't grown an inch since yesterday when you were here to fix it. You bet you won't grow an inch by tomorrow, but you always liked to be proved wrong.
You get on your tiptoes and still can't reach. You fake a sigh. "If only I had a friend to help me reach..." You glance behind you where Sun was beginning to put the leftover crafts into his shredder. It sounds like he's overfilling it again. He takes so much glee into using that thing that it concerns you.
"Don't know where I would find one of those at, do you Sunny?" You ask, looking at him playfully but helplessly trying to reach the top of the machine but being too short to showcase your struggles. "Someone tall... strong.... with long, noodly arms." You chuckle at your own joke.
Sun spins his head in a way that makes you believe he rolled his pearly white eyes. He clicks his non-existent tongue as he walks over to you. "You really need to invest in a step ladder, friend! I might be FazCo property, but I am no tool." He quips but it takes him no time to walk up to you.
You chuckle and wait for him to boost you.
He scoops you up like he does everyday. This is your daily routine, Come to the Daycare, go to fix the broken FizzyFazz machine, ask Sun to hold you up while you unscrew the side panel so you can re-plug in the two wires that are always loose and have him put you down, then hang out with your friend until you have to go fix something else.
Admittedly, the last part is the hardest. Sometimes you're in the Daycare an hour or more after you've finished working on the FizzyFazz machine just because Sun didn't want to let you go. That is, if he doesn't have any rugrats to wrangle after you're done.
Back when you were a new mechanic, and the Daycare and it's Attendant was newly reinstated as part of the ‘Plex, he had asked you to look over every single screw in the playtubes, twice one day after he got a little lonely. He just wanted your company a little (it took many hours and he milked each minute of it) and you found it sweet... and kind of sad.
After telling him he could talk to you and let you know if he's feeling down or wants a friend that you would gladly be there anytime for him or Moon, you jokingly told him he'd have to come up with something better than that next time to trick you.
The small panel is on the top side of the machine, and perfectly sealed. You unscrew each screw and take off the smooth panel.
Shaking your head, you're kind of disappointed. The same two cords are unplugged like they have been everyday. It's always the yellow and blue one, the audio and visual outputs, without fail.
You sigh and hook them up quickly and screw the panel back on. You are so confident that it is fixed that you aren't even going to double check it. If it worked the other times, surely it worked this time, too.
You've tried to come up with reasons for it to be unplugged and the only logical one is that a child does it.
A child would have to have help to reach, the yellow ball of sunshine holding you- a grown adult- up to the machine proves that. Sun wouldn't help a child dismantle FazCo property, so that nixes that assumption. It would take a group of children to hoist themselves up to reach the top of the machine, that would take forever to do. Sun wouldn't let that happen either, so a big no to that.
Also, how would they get the screws off? Unless Tommy Pickles attends this Daycare, there isn't a kid you know of that packs a screwdriver around. There isn't any lying around that the children could just walk by and snatch up either. The fact you have a designated FizzyFazz machine screw driver can attest to that.
You have spent way too many nights questioning the possibilities, motives and everything else surrounding this crime. You have gone so far as to naming this imaginary child Darrell and coming up with a cute and for some odd reason, gruesome little background story for him.
You get bored, okay? A healthy imagination is not a crime the last time you checked.
You voice your theories to the Attendant-leaving out the lore for little Darrell.
You don't pay attention to Sun shifting nervously because you are so occupied with securing the panel, making absolutely sure you aren't just leaving the screws too loose and that is how the child culprit gets into the machine.
Sun's mostly stoic face contorts to sheepishness. "Uh, ha, ha... You.. You never know, kids... they sure are, uh, tricky." He says nervously, but when is he not nervous?
"They get into everything! Like over here!" He swings you to face the top of the play structures. "Or, here!" He spins you in the opposite direction, to Moon's cozy little corner called the Naptime Nook.
"And especially over here!" He points you towards the netting surrounding the Daycare. "The little rascals climb like animals!" Sun moves you, puppeteering you to 'climb' the netting. And yes he is, in fact, doing sound effects.
Should climbing have sound effects even? The bot holding you up seems to think so.
You can't help but laugh at his dorky, cuteness.
He sets you down easily, like you are made of glass.
You sigh, dusting imaginary dirt- okay, maybe not so imaginary- off your worn uniform. You make a mental note to do your weekly laundry soon. You turn back towards your sunny companion, wistfully thinking. "I just wish they would unplug something else, or break the screen or something. Gimme a challenge for once."
Sun tuts at you, huffing like you've offended him in some way. He mutters, but you only catch a couple words like try it yourself, and those cords are good enough.
You just put it down as Sun, being well, Sun. The more you try to understand him the less you do.
"Oh! Hold on a second! You got something right by your face, just hold on a moment let me..." You stop and Sun very gingerly swipes a lock of hair behind your ear. It is a simple gesture, and really shouldn't amount to anything but you can't help the way your face heats up, or how much your heart is pounding. His hand lingers a moment too long for you to just brush it off.
With a snap of his long two-toned fingers that make you feel deaf for a moment, Sun pulls a tissue paper flower out of nowhere and expertly puts it behind your ear as well.
"There, gorgeous."
Your eyes lock onto his pale barely-there pupils. Sun is close enough for you to see them, so that's telling something. You blink, and blink and blink your eyes at the bot, feeling yourself inch back until you feel the soda machine press against your back. You aren't quite sure what you have in the eyelash department, but you're sure you are fanning them, anime style.
Your heart is beating so fast your FazWatch vibrates to ask if you are either ill or doing a high risk activity. Your face is as red as the machine behind you. If the machine in front of you notices, he doesn't say.
The butterflies in your stomach form earlier? Yeah, they have evolved into hornets with AR-15's.
Many thoughts swarm your poor, simping brain. Until both were interrupted by the sounds of a child hurling into the ballpit.
You thank God for your out.
"I-I'll see you, or the other you, later.. alright, Sunny?" You shakily call after Sun as he skips to his responsibilities like he hadn't just caused you to malfunction like the FizzyFazz machine you just repaired for the eleven-hundred and eightieth time.
You don't have time to dwell on that, because you are blissfully bombarded with tasks.
Roxy needs her make-up touched up and Chica needs her chest cavity cleaned out and sanitized before she's needed on stage in the mid morning, not to mention the odd arcade machine or broken skill crane here or there.
You take the flower out of your hair, and inspect how well it's made. Your heart does a little flip when you realize he made it in your favorite color.
You try not to replay Sun calling you gorgeous over and over again in your head as you walk.
Did he say "There gorgeous." or "There, gorgeous."?
With one possible comma your entire morning is consumed with the implications.
You have all day to ponder the what if's and how's and what could be as you navigate through animatronic meltdowns and malfunctioning machines.
Roxy tried snapping your hand when you were trying to apply blush, Chica kept re-eating the garbage you cleaned out of her any time your back was turned and if you never see a Wet Floor Sign turned on it's side and pitifully beeping, or a STAFFBot with a loose wheel spinning around in circles, it'll be too soon. Then, to top your evening off, after attempting to fix a car in the GatorCoaster Monty chased you out of GatorGolf.
Pretty much your average Tuesday.
The guests have dwindled, and so has the breaking down of the arcade machines. With less foot traffic comes less people shoving gum and other items that aren't supposed to be there into the coin slots and gobbing them up.
Anything to try and get a free, cheaply made Freddy plush, you suppose. Sadly for the customers, the only thing they achieve is breaking the machine and even more sad for you is that you have been the one to fix it.
After getting all of your assignments done you head to your 'room' to grab your dirty laundry. Might as well since you have a moment of free time. You aren't on the clock unless something else breaks down until morning.
You promised Sun you would be back but you didn't want to go there smelling like work and sweat and anything else that clung to your dirty uniform after a day of crawling around on the floor and under broken machinery. You were covered in dirt, oil and whatever grimy bacteria coats the Plex floors.
You feel a pang of guilt for putting him off. Usually you had lunch in the Daycare but you had to get but a quick trip to the laundry room shouldn't hurt anything. Maybe you wanted to smell nice and not look like garbage for them, was that a crime?
You have one good uniform left, and you'll put the others in the wash while you visit your bestest best friend. You blush, taking the quickest shower you can.
You have it so bad for them, it isn't funny. It was funny before, when you figured it was a 'I see them everyday and it's just about proximity' thing, or a pathetic 'they give me attention and act happy to be around me' type deal. It's been this way for over a year.
It wasn't a phase, mom. You have full blown, real feelings for them.
You suspect they may feel the same. Maybe. Hopefully? You are afraid it's wishful thinking, if you're being honest.
It was hard to parse if they were friendly with you, friendly with you or you were just delulu.
Sun did call you gorgeous, so..
Okay, well, maybe he didn't call you gorgeous. It was probably his craftsmanship and the flower and...
You wanted to believe he called you gorgeous. You had done a great job of looking normal on the outside all morning and evening while in the background of the public, but you were screeching on the inside like a middle schooler over it.
So much, you were aggravating yourself with the constant ‘Attendant this, Attendant that, Attendant, Attendant, Attendant!’ wracking around in your brain.
The Attendant, both of them, were funny and witty and they both had their downsides, but so does everyone. They made you laugh, and as cliche as this must sound, you feel like you can be more of yourself around them. You could be goofy and loud and chaotic with them.
They judged you sure, Sun mostly being his prima donna little self, but it was all in good fun. They're jesters, it's a part of their charm. You had your zingers, too. Although yours wasn't as good. They were your friends, and you hadn't yet felt unwelcome in their company. You thought about them a lot, and you find yourself in the Daycare whenever you can be, and they make you feel at home. Sun will happily talk your ear off even if you're feeling rather quiet and don't know what to say, and Moon sits with you after hours sometimes, no talk, just vibes.
Oh, you really liked these two skrunkly idiots. You liked them a lot.
You had it bad. You know that but you don't know what to do about it. That's why you've been suffering in silence all this time. Tell them? Not tell them? Lose out on the opportunity to be something more, or lose out on the opportunity to keep the strong friendship you have going on with them? If they didn't feel the same would it change how they look at you? Would they pity you or be disgusted? What if they did like you? Like, like like you? What if they felt the same? What would they say? Would you mess it up? Would they? What if you ruin everything?
Many questions flood your brain, too many for you to keep track of. With the way you cautiously overthink everything, you are finding it hard to just fling yourself into a situation when you aren't certain where you'll land. You like to have your ducks prim and proper and all in line, thank you very much. You curse the ones that are able hop from love to love like frogs on lily pads
After rinsing yourself you quickly pull the towel down that's hung over the curtain rod and dry yourself. Hopping out of the shower, you practically dive into your oversized uniform, fleeing before the cold air chills your damp skin.
You don't tend to wear tight clothing and as bulky as your suit is, you like that the bagginess of your uniforms gives you a feeling of camouflage that you have no idea how to explain.
The sleeves come to the top of your hand, and you shove them up your arms while thinking about how it gets in the way when you work. Inconvenient, yes but you would always prefer your swimming pool of a uniform to something actually form fitting.
You tie your hair back with your hair tie that's almost on its last day. You dread the messy way it'll dry but there's nothing you can do about that right now. It's as presentable as you are willing to look right now. You aren't one to do much to fix your face or hair up. You have two styles, up and down. You keep it up most times, because wearing it down looks awful unless you spend hours doing something to it.
Honestly, you would probably be more inclined to fix yourself up if you had the patience to learn how. Whatever you look like, you just look like.
For a fleeting second you wonder if your crush cares how you look. Would they care if you were your plain, natural self or would they like if you put more time into yourself? Or were you just projecting your own thoughts?
It's silly, and on the edge of insecure, but you tamp it down with a snort and a shake of your head. You were overthinking again, per the usual, and you realize it. Not your first rodeo or even your hundredth with .
Besides, of course they like you as is. Sun called you gorgeous today. If he didn't, you like to think that he did.
You haul your dirty clothes into the laundry mat next to the showers. The washing machines and dryers rumble on, making your ears feel stuffy. What could they possibly be washing at this time of day?
You note the irony as you dump your load into an unoccupied washer. The washers and dryers are still on late at night.
You've heard them humming all throughout the night when you got called to the aid of a rogue STAFFbot or when you couldn't sleep and roamed the Plex like a ghost at three in the morning.
At least you're doing your laundry at a decent hour this time. You reach for the detergent when the lid is slammed closed harshly with a clang.
"What makes you think you can just show your face anywhere you want to, shortstack?" Monty sneers, coming down into your space, your whole entire view full of bright angry green, yellow and purple. "Who gave you the right to show up anywhere you want?!" He's talking about earlier today when you had to go into his lair- uh, attraction to fix part of it. You take a step back so you can actually see him. He snorts fake smoke out of his nostrils at you, a feature he's been updated with (and overusing) since the Plex wanted him to be even more frightening than before. You fan away the smokey mist, coughing it out of your lungs. You have no idea why they wanted him more intimidating since people ran away from the gator as it was.
Right now it's like he's trying to intimidate you. All, short, stout, marshmellow of a person, you.
Monty is your biggest hater. He will literally seek you out just to pick on you. You have no idea why. You'd like to know, but you just don't. It's not like he would tell you either, because you have asked. A snarl and a greenroom door slammed in your face is the only answer you have got each attempt you made.
"Probably Fazbear when they hired me, Montgomery." You say, emphasizing his name since you know he hates it. He snarls at you again and you fight off a smirk knowing that it struck the nerve you wanted it to. You open the washer lid and pour your detergent. "I'm just as much FazCo property as you are, and FazCo property can use the utilities."
He leaned down so you both were almost on eye level and so you could see him look down on you over his sunglasses. This way you could see his angry red eyes over his big snout.
You fight away a smirk at how extra this is of him. He did that just so you would know he was looking down on you. Arrogant prick.
"What makes you think you're so special?" You flinch as he growls, smacking your laundry bag off the dryer next to you, sending it far away to the other side of the room. "Mechanic." Monty spits out the name the animatronics call you, and you wonder if it's because they didn't care to learn your actual one.
Even though he can't spit, you can feel the sticky, hot residue of the emotional disrespect on your face. You wipe your face and are surprised when your hand comes back wet.
"Monty." You cough as whatever stench he has clinging to him hits your nostrils. You feel like puking. The wet, vile spittal seems less like your imagination. "Monty, gotdamn." You choke.
You aren't making a fool out of yourself just because. He stinks. Horribly. You aren't sure if FazCo upgraded him to have a feature that allows him to spit or spew bile or not, but you curse whoever thought of it. Actually you applaud them, that would be gross and cool and it's something you wish you thought of or could have been a part of installing. You're just mad that you fell victim to it instead.
The gator isn't sure whether to be mad or concerned for you. Why he would be concerned for you is another question altogether, since he makes it a point to hate you.
"What's the matter with you!" He yells, shoving your shoulder in what seems like distress if you didn’t know better.
"What's the matter with you?!" You retort. "You smell like... ass and sewer water!" You yell and gag. There was no reason for him to smell that way. It wasn't like he could violently, putridly diarrhea on himself. If some hose or valve broke off inside of him was to blame and whatever toxin leaked through his metal body was causing such a stench, he wouldn't be functional. He couldn't be. There was no way.
Hopefully he'd have the mind to seek help (or the closest area with soap and water) if a child had done so while meeting and greeting with him. Then again, you are positive FazCo wouldn't let him out and about like this if that were the case. He'd have to have rolled in whatever this is all day to smell this badly.
Monty growls and huffs in offense. "I was plannin' to go worsh!" He bristles, his artificial Southern accent stronger. Monty tries to defend himself. "I fell-... no, I meant, I jumped into the toxic waste pool earlier, for your information." He sneered. "No thanks to you!" Monty growls, tail swaying dangerously.
Ah, so he was mad at you because he fell into the disgusting water while chasing you out of his exhibit. Makes sense. Total sense.
You gag again, much to yours and Monty's disapproval. "Still smells better than you look." He jabs, and flicks the construction paper flower Sun made you. You had stuck it in your uniform pocket so it didn't get ruined in the wash. Monty picks it up, twirling it between fat, black claws. He flicks it in your face like an old school movie cigarette. Total bully behavior.
"Always knew you were soft but I didn't take ya for a pansy." He leans in and huffs again, making sure the toxic sewer swamp deathly ass smell blasts your face. You double over, and he nearly knocks you down as he bumps into you, stomping away as you try to keep your lunch in your stomach.
"Sunny, I'm home!" You yell jokingly as you open the faux oak doors. You had hoped to be here earlier than right before closing. They weren't allowed visitors after hours.
You would spend the night if you could. With how clingy the Attendant is, you know they wouldn't mind.
Taking one step into the Daycare, you start apologizing since you hadn't swooped by for lunch like always. "Sorry that I couldn't get here before, I-" Your apology is cut off by very distressed wailing.
You turn quickly and see the Daycare in a mess. The atrocity known as Fazzy-String was worse than you anticipated. The pastel foamy string covered everything, the poor Attendant taking the brunt of it all. He stood in the middle of the colorful padded playmats, clutching his lumpy, squishy, soiled faceplate in anguish like a man standing in the middle of his beloved house, watching it burn down around him.
Except he and the Daycare aren't being destroyed by fire. Just covered head to toe, ceiling to wall in gloopy polyacrylic resin.
Sun is practically vibrating, shaking his head like a madman. One that is about to mentally and physically break down if you don’t do something quickly.His rays were stuck in uneven spikes along his head. He tries to spin them, something he does when highly excited or stressed. They're practically glued in place, his head veering painfully to the right. Sun’s definitely stressed, alright. You can hear his fans working over time to clear out gunk and cool his systems from the door.
“EVERYWHERE!” He bellows, sticky hands shakily letting go of his faceplace, leaving strings of gloop connected to him. It reminds you of thick, plastic like processed cheese on the pizza served in the cafeteria.
Sun has his back to you, staring at the catastrophe along the whole Daycare. “HOW DID THEY DO THAT? UP THERE? AND THERE, OH NO…. NOT THE BALLPIT ANYWHERE BUT THE BALLPIT! THAT'S GOING TO TAKE FORE-HEH-HEH-VER!” He cries loudly, pitifully. Thankfully, no one is in this part of the Plex besides you and him and whatever roaches are hidden away. There would be boatloads of complaints otherwise and he didn’t need that.
Fazzy-String as far as the eye could see. It looked like sloppy, makeshift tinsel as it hung up over the entirety of the play tubes, like someone was over zealous to decorate for Christmas without the proper means of decorating.
The craft tables had heaps and heaps of the stuff. The kids must have emptied cans upon cans upon cans to make that much of a mess. It was even a bigger mess with their little claw marks etched into it. You can easily picture the pack of them throwing Fazzy-String like little monkeys at each other and Sun and everything else. Globs of it are stuck to the slide and smudged between the colorful bridge planks of the bridge.
All around the Daycare and on the Attendant themself are little incriminating hand prints from the little shits that done it. You feel anger bubbling up for about fifty random school aged children that you don't even know. They've undoubtedly bothered your best friend and that was more than enough to earn your wrath.
“Sunny!” You call out to the panicking bot. You hope that you can reach him before Sun just shuts down on you. "Hey, hey! Look at me! It's okay, you're fine, the Daycare's fine it'll be okay!" Anxious thinking leads you to start rubbing his chest compartment, trying to physically reign him in along with your frazzled words.
He's been dealing with this since naptime ended. That is the time he said they were dispersing this crap. You can't begin to imagine how he feels. His protocols and code must be waging war right now. 0's and 1's running in rampant patterns in his head, not making any sense and pulling him every which way. You are surprised he's still running at this point.
You do feel a pang of guilt. You wanted to be here earlier, but you had to get your working tasks done, first. If you skipped your actual work to coddle the Attendant again- as the higher ups put it- you’d be fired. That wouldn’t help you or him.
“Sunny! Sunnybunny, Sunman, Sunny in Philadelphia!” You call out goofy nicknames, each more ridiculous than the last. He usually either laughs or gets mad, but it works in getting his focus off the mountains of foam that coat his home. Sun’s white eyes are nearly covered in Fazzy-String, making him look like a melted abominable snowman. Your heart clenches. He must be in absolute, neat freak agony.
“Sunshine! Oh, goodness Sunshine, it’s you!” He runs over to you, pulling you into a bear hug. Fazzy-String dampens your jumpsuit in various spots and you're glad you did laundry earlier because this is your only clean uniform. "I've never been so happy to see you as I am right now!" He bellows, nuzzling you roughly with his faceplate. You wonder for a brief minute if he's just doing it to clean his face off on your jumpsuit.
Oh, it makes the sacrifice of your evening and clean uniform worth it. Your cheeks heat up at his words, however trivial they may have been.
“I thought… I thought I’d have to do this all alone! All alone! Everything, just by myself! Hah, program a bot with cleaning protocols and then pull this, I swear.” He grumbles. Sun talking to himself is never a good thing. He’s well on his way to a malfunction.
It's a good thing that you've caught it kind of early. There was still hope to save him a trip to Parts- which involves calling in an engineer, that FazCo doesn't have yet, and dealing with Sun as he panics like a cat thrown into the ocean the whole time.
There is a reason that only Moon ever comes down to your neck of the woods.
“-and I couldn’t get them to STOP after WHOEVER passed out those monstrous, evil, stupid, DEMONIC THINGS-“ Sun roars and you try to stop him, patting his back to signal him to let you go and to give him some comfort along the way. “Let’s get you un-gunked and then we’ll get the rest taken care of.” You say gently and he sits you down on your feet. "We can do it. Together."
Sun visibly sighs in relief. He would never turn down a cleaning. It's almost therapeutic for him, you believe. One would think that with the way they are so nitpicky over keeping the Daycare cleaned that they would do it for themselves.
Hah!
He calms down enough to sit on one of the comically small craft tables to make himself closer to your level. “I know, I know, IknowIknowIknow,” He rambles, flailing his arms wildly. “I know that most of the time *I'm the one complaining about our handlers and assistants and all that, and they don't really work out but it’d be nice to have some help around here.” Sun says, sighing.
You smirk, looking over your shoulder at him as you scour the small utility closet for cleaning supplies. "What about me?" You jokingly tease.
Sun scoffs, and you can't see it but he rolls his eyes. "I'm not talking about you, I mean real help." He huffs indignantly.
You do agree with him. The 'main' animatronics, the Glamrocks, have a person for everything. You are one of those people when the other handlers are busy.
The Attendant had the Attendant. That’s it. Also you, if you could find the small slots in your schedule to come to the Daycare and help him out. You did try to help them as much as you could still but even you know it's not enough. The Attendant has had 'handlers', if you could call them that. In all actuality, it's been nothing like a joke.
FazCo usually hires the most incompetent people you've ever met to handle one of Fazbear's most advanced, complex machines. They either stayed on their phones, uninterested in everything going on while Sun or Moon did everything on their own, or dumbly tried to help and just made things worse.
You or the Attendant can't understand why it always happens to turn out that way and it has become a running joke between you three. The jesters have asked you to put in an application to be their handler many times. You would love to if you hadn't sunk years of college and a heap of debt into becoming a mechanic.
You grab rags, a bucket and as much cleaning supplies you can carry. Sun is still troubledly chattering away, picking Fazzy-String off his pants and arms and anywhere he can reach. His voice is sad, and even though he physically cannot do so, Sun sounds like he is on the verge of tears.
Your heart lurches as he sniffles, wiping his flat, sideways nose with his arm.
Sun pulls a rag from your full pocket when you are arms length to him. With a flick of the wrist he snaps it and in great cartoon fashion 'blows his nose', rag flapping in the wind and all. The action is goofy and silly and not fitting the mood he created but so entirely him.
Sun makes a noise akin to a horn, something he would manually have to make happen, as if served no purpose otherwise. You smile at him, soaping up another rag in the cleaner.
"That was funny, I'm not going to lie." You said in amusement. Sun threw the rag over to the side to be picked up later.
"I try." He mutters and rights himself prettily so you can pamper him, shimmying in place. You find it so cute the way he is just waiting for you to groom him like a prized show dog
The Attendant has became used to and seemed to even to look forward to your spoiling of them. Cleaning out their small chest compartment (you'd be surprised at how many odd toys and thrown away crafts get lodged in there) and wiping away the dust and grime and filth being the spoiling.
It was easier to see on Sun, in all beautiful yellows, golds, and beiges. That must drive him up the wall knowing that. Not enough to do it himself, but still.
Sun or Moon has never gotten much affection. The kids hug them and cuddle up on them for naptime, sure, but that's it. That's from children. Children they have to babysit. The Attendant never gets any one-on-one attention where they aren't the ones giving it. Which is sad, and makes your stomach turn at how FazCo runs their franchise. Why would they make a sentient animatronic that thrives on attention and set them up to be glorified nannies?
You try to make up for the company's failures by cleaning the Attendant's casing and polishing their metal, giving both personalities as many hugs as they want, and you are personally trying to build up their egos. That, honestly, you didn't need to do since the drama queens had pretty big egos to start with.
They are your bestest best friends and you care about them. They were hard working, emotional, and very intelligent and you have no idea how any of the past mechanics or engineers could just blow them off the way they have.
You make quick work of getting the Fazzy-String out from your friend's everywhere.
You pull gobs and gobs of it out of his rays, between the thin metal sheets connecting his faceplate together as well as the nooks and crannies in his detailed face. You think your heart stopped at least twice while wiping around the delicate power cords and the storage chip that holds each one of their personalities in the back of his head. It would take one stray drop of water or a nudge too hard to ruin everything about your best friend.
Whoever gave them the okay to be Daycare Attendants and work with unruly children with his whole lifesource hanging out in the open on the back of his head needs their license taken away.
You aren't sure how much he can actually feel but you are gentle with him. The sight of his indented freckles becoming uncovered as you wipe off the Fazzy-String brings a smile to your face. He's pretty. Very pretty. Kind of ugly, but still pretty.
His faceplate was intense when you first met them and it took a while for it to grow on you, you started finding it rather cute. You study him like one would art. To the mechanically biased part of your heart, he is art.
Sun has taken to kneading either side pocket of the toolbelt. You know from experience that it calms him down, so you just let him do it. You hate that he feels stressed out but you can't deny how cute it is. You carry this specific tool bag when you come to do their maintenance and wash them off just so he can make biscuits like a stressed out little kitty.
Sun sighs, heaving an artificial breath. "I know it was meant to be something fun, funny for the kids. A shtick." He talks about today and it sounds so defeated. Sun may act like literal sunshine, but you know he's well over burnt out. "They've shown so many of those crude cartoons in the theater, and God knows we've done so many dumb skits ourselves." Sun says in somber thought and you can physically see him roll his pearlescent eyes. "But, shouldn't the clown that gets a pie to the face, have a say if he gets a pie to the face?" He asks rhetorically.
Words fail you as you and you wish you knew what to say to him right now. Either Attendant isn't treated fairly, or kindly, or valued or a respected addition to the Plex outside of you and maybe three other people. Sun and Moon being two of the three other people.
You busy your hands with the cleaning process, finding it easier to collect your thoughts when you have your hands full and a task in front of you. You've never been a person that knows what to say, especially when you're trying to comfort someone. Your words sound fake even to you, rehearsed, no matter how much you mean them. You've always been that way, backward and shy. The Attendant jokes that you are actually AI instead.
If you can't speak and help your friend, you are at least going to be productive. He'd at least feel better physically that way. You're almost done freeing him from the Fazzy-String around his frame like it is a sticky, goopy net. "It's all bullshit." You say finally and genuinely. It's the truth. Sun scolds you for the language.
"No, I'm not joking, it is." You state firmly. "You wouldn't see Freddy..." You pause to think of an analogy. "You wouldn't see him, I dunno, shoveling out nachos at El Chips." You put your hands on your hips becoming serious. "You are way overqualified for this. You and Moon both. Either of your shouldn't have to change a bunch of dirty diapers, and juggle a school of kids, and be knee deep in-"
Sun interrupts you. "OH! Don't forget the ballpit! Kids have accidents all the time in there and we have to clean it up." He says bitterly, shaking his head in agreement and disgust.
"That ball pit is nasty!." You say. "The Glamrocks don't have to clean their own greenrooms that they alone mess up, why should you have to keep this-'' You gesture to the expanse of the Daycare proper. "All in working condition by your lonesome?" You ask. "That's just the tip of the iceberg and it's not fair. You deserve better than that." You say firmly. Sun's mood does a 180 degree turn like his rays, now happily free and bobbing along his head.
Maybe it felt good to hear that he was more than a hunk of metal that consisted of the purpose they served and that’s it.
"You think so?" Sun says in a voice so unlike his usual boisterous one that it makes you want to go straight through everyone that's done them wrong.
"No," You say and Sun falters. "I know so.” That is very cliche and cheeky, but it hits with the dramatic bot in front of you and that is what you were going for. “As long as I'm a Fazbear employee, I'll be here to help you. I'm just a ping away, day or night." Your voice is final, leaving no room for argument.
Sun sweeps you up in a swirling hug. It makes you dizzy and hard to think. Or maybe it was because of how close he held you and how he peppered your hair with 'kisses'- which was him gently bonking his faceplate against you and saying 'mwah!' over and over again after each kiss. "You're the bestest, bestest, BESTEST!" He said excitedly. "Oh, how did we ever meet such a friend like you?!"
You laugh, feeling like your dinner is trying to make an appearance. You just got Sun cleaned and he wouldn't like it if you puked on him.
Sun takes his arm, securing your waist so you don't fall out of his arms and grabs your hand. He dances with you, now free to move around without Fazzy-String stuck in his joints. Sun looks at you, and it feels so heavy. Heavy but not necessarily bad kind of heavy. It's intense, and there are so many unspoken things, though you believe that part is most from you.
His hand squeezes your waist, his eyes visible enough to dart down to your lips and back up. You swallow, feeling like your mouth is dry. Your mind is having a hard time computing. This look, did it mean they like you too? Wishful thinking? It was wishful thinking wasn't it? Was it?
"You know friend," He says in a low voice that sounds more akin to Moon. You nearly lose your breath. "We could dance a lot better if we had music!" Sun chimes, in a sing-song voice. He stops dancing you around, letting you twirl out with a flourish so you can get your phone.
You still twirl around a couple times after he lets go, feeling dizzy from more than just being spun in circles. You are happy to oblige him in this request. You love music. You always have. It is your refuge and your escape. Anytime you can have music involved, you will.
A thought crosses your mind and you pause.
You know the feelings you have for the Attendant. Anyone who was around you while you were in the Daycare, or talked to you for more than ten minutes could figure it out.
But do they know that?
You still aren't ready to just flat out tell them you have feelings for them. The fear of ruining your friendship too much for you right now.
You could test the waters through your playlist, though.
You scold yourself, telling yourself it was just a stupid song and he'd be none the wiser to any 'hidden meaning' that you were trying to have. The Attendant probably didn't over analyze every single thing like you did.
You know they do, and your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and what ifs as you find a song.
Hopeful thoughts, thoughts of doubt and even questioning the morality of a human and a robot pairing running rampant through your head. You can't stop thinking about this zany, wacky, silly clown. They didn't capture your heart like you had thought. The bastards conquered it. They own that sonuva bitch. Each beat has replaced its normal buh-thump, buh-thump, buh-thump with a Sun-Moon, Sun-Moon, Sun-Moon. That was cheesy and horrible, yes, but you were high off of excitement and thinking that they could feel for you, too.
Sun had called you gorgeous today and the way he looked was... it definitely wasn't an acquaintance or friend look.
They are your best friend. You value them greatly. They are the best part of your day and life right now, as pathetic as that sounds. You don't have too much of a life outside of your work, you know, since you have staggering bills to pay off.
Your job took up a great deal of your life, and The Attendant was a big part of your job.
Well, they weren't your responsibility at work, no. You do most of their maintenance and help pro bono so to speak. Their maintenance is left up to their handler, and right now they are without one. The new hire was coming in this week, though neither of you put much faith in them working here for long.
They, the Attendant, are your last thoughts at night and the first ones in the morning. You can't even look at the sky without thinking of them anymore! You felt needed here, and you haven't had these kinds of feelings for years and you kind of want to hold on to both of those things.
"Did'ja get lost?!" Sun exclaims, making you jump. You hadn't realized you had paused to stare out into nothing while you were pondering. He leans over you, turning his head to look at your phone. It looks like you weren't the only one feigning for music.
You hook it up to the small bluetooth speaker that sits in your toolbag. You always keep it or your earphones on hand, you music lover you. You could barely get anything done unless some kind of beat filled the silence.
You clear your throat and hopefully your nerves and look up at the bot. "What do you want to listen to tonight?" You ask as you go through the long list of songs. You blush as you notice that most of your newest added songs are all celestial themed. Whether or not he notices you have no idea.
Your playlist has grown a lot since you took this job so many odd months and years ago, and now at least a third of songs that have either the sun or the moon somewhere throughout the lyrics.
You don't want to elaborate on that at all, really.
Sun makes a non committal sound, and you search your playlist for something he'd approve of.
Knowing him, probably nothing.
He grabs the leftover rags from you and starts wiping down the playtubes. You sigh, scrolling as you blindly make your way to the broom closet a second time tonight to grab supplies you'll need to tackle the foamy Daycare. You frown when nothing in your playlist is speaking to you.
How were you supposed to confess your feelings in such an extravagant gesture when most of your playlist you stole from Tiktok and animation memes?!
"You're taking forever!" Sun whines, grunting and pulling his rays in frustration. He most certainly was over his domain looking like garbage. You can’t find it in yourself to blame him. A clean Daycare is a happy one, after all.
You frown, and just put your playlist on shuffle. So much for being romantic. You grab an arm load of trash bags, a stupid amount of extra rags and everything else that both of you would need to tackle this beast.
You and your friend both lose yourselves to your cleaning. It was rhythmic and satisfying, enjoying the company and music. Your eyes meet in the middle of some soundtrack you had saved. You smirk and belt out the next line. You can't dance very well without feeling like an ass but you shimmy over to him and hold your hand out for him while you sing the semi-romantic duet coming from your bluetooth speaker.
It was from a Disney movie, yes, but you were in a child’s Daycare and singing to a large animatronic sun so your song choice isn’t the weirdest thing going on here.
You have tried to get him to sing with you often, just like you are right now. Sun just stares at you while what would have been his part plays without him participating.
You aren't surprised when he saunters away from you.
"No, no, no. As tempting as that is, no." Sun huffs, throwing a large wad of rags and FazzyString into your trash bag with flair. "I do not sing." He sasses, holding his hands up in a triangle.
"Singing is for animals-" He points to the big cartoon sign of Chica.
"-the raunchy and uneducated." He flicks the Monty sign between the eyes. They also beef with the gator as much as you do and you love bitching about Monty to each other, bonding over your dislike for the gator. Sun finally lands on you, pointing to your chest. "-and the desperate."
That would have stung if you didn't know his cvnty sense of humor. You chuckle and pout. "C'mon! One song? One? Just a verse, a line!"
"I'm a performer. I perform, sunshine. I don't sing!" He chuckled, twirling around to look at you. You choose not to remind him the Moon sings lullabies to the kids at naptime.
"The last time I checked, the sun was a star." Sun states in that pretentious tone, reserved for only the masters of the arts as he points at his own chest.
He's lucky you're a simp.
The rest of the cleaning process goes by quickly. Much too quickly for your liking. Each minute ticks by quickly. You would have to leave before closing, like a reverse Cinderella. But alas, time stops for no one. The carousel keeps turning.
You look around and realize that he had finished up the Daycare spotlessly while you have only tackled one slide and the craft tables. You take a second to marvel at how efficient he is.
Sun sits down on the now spotless craft table you meticulously cleaned with one long leg crossed over the other, acting all the pompous bitch. He swipes a finger across the flat surface like he's going to find hidden smudge. "Hmmph, missed a spot." He snarks.
You snicker at him, the goofy goofball. You had a limited time to get to the cleaning out of his casing now since you had to help him not breakdown over Fazzy-String and purge it from him and the Daycare itself.
Sun is definitely feeling himself, after being spot cleaned and the Daycare looking good enough until morning must have boosted his mood greatly.
Now it was time for you to get down and dirty with him.
N-no, not like that.
The Attendant's regular deep cleaning.
Running around the kids all day was a great way to clog up his gears. Pipe cleaners, construction paper and even small stuffed animals weren't uncommon to find in his chest cavity.
He wastes no time in opening the small hatch for you. Sun is eager, like a dog wanting belly rubs. You try not to let the scowl come across your face as you see the content of his chest cavity.
There were the things you expected, like craft supplies and a clumsily made beaded bracelet that a kid must have made him. It might have also just got lost in the fray when the kid was being carried by the Attendant. Those are gross, but more common things.
You also see what you hope is moldy play-doh caked to one side of his casing, near his scrawny endo. Even a soggy, deteriorated stuffed animal is lodged behind some cords. It was so damaged that you can't even make out if it was Faz-merch or not.
You had cleaned out their insides last week. What the hell?
What you weren't expecting, though, is the tiny Music Man. You cock your head, marveling at it as it rested inside the small, dirty expanse of the Attendant’s endo like a curled up kitten. You hope the poor thing is still functioning. You don't question how it got there, not really, but more like why was it there?
Why...? Do you want to know?
Sun caught onto your staring, huffing like he couldn't understand why you weren't elbows deep into his chest and pulling out rancid junk. "What?" He questions and looks down and to your surprise is just as surprised as you are.
Sun jolts, metal creaking and bells jingling. He snatches the Music Man like one would a pest and tosses it out into the Daycare floor. It scuttles away, burrowing into the dark recess of the Naptime Nook like it was its home.
"Moon!" Sun curses his counterpart, annoyed by being occupied by yet another consciousness. "We have talked about this!"
Sun crosses his arms but in a way you could still reach his chest. "He goes over to the West Arcade and gives 'Moony-back rides' to all those little things and then forgets them in our Birthday Cake hatch! All the time!" Sun complains as you rid him of rot and filth.
You scrunch up your face when you pull half of a green PB&J sandwich out. It looks strangely familiar, like the PB&J sandwich you had for lunch last week. You don't remember losing it.
Did they take it? They couldn’t even eat it. You throw it in the trash bag, your nose getting assaulted yet again today.
Sun uses the last of his out time complaining about Moon. Somewhere along the way he goes from complaining to full on arguing with the lunar bot like you weren't there.
Sun gets serious in his argument. So much so that you fight off laughing at the clapbacks Sun animatedly had. You would pay your entire paycheck for a year to hear whatever Moon could be saying back.
You get your chance to at least see how it affected Moon as the lights go off and the hum of all the electronics quiet. You step back as they transition from day to night, still bickering. Their voice box glitches and Moon comes out growling something you can't understand. He's as sprightly as if he didn't realize he wasn't in their mindspace anymore.
"Goodnight, Moon." You greet him by quoting your favorite naptime story book, hoping he isn't insane and is just caught up in arguing with his counterpart. Moon glares at you, coming down to earth and seeing the entirety of the Daycare and you instead of whatever it looks like in their head.
His bright scarlet LEDs cast eery red light all across you. In the darkness of the Daycare, and the only lights being the large SUNNYDROP candy prompter back by the desk and Moon's eyes, he looks menacing.
Your heart rate rises like you were staring a tiger in the face. You know he wouldn't pounce on you like one. You hope he wouldn't, anyways.
Moon connects to his aerial cord and zips into the high, high up ceilings. You stand there and wait, hoping he'd just pop back down and let you get the rest of the stagnation out of his casing.
"Moon!" You yell when he doesn't come down. "Moon, please! Come on, dude. We're going to get in trouble!" You say, and he growls. You had unwittingly reminded him of Sun, and he wanted nothing to do with him right now. You curse yourself. You snort when you hear an angry and raspy yet distant 'language!' from somewhere off in the rafters.
You try thinking about how to get him down, tapping your chin. You would be here well over midnight if you didn't do something to get him ground level. You didn't mind staying that late, but Vanessa threatened to rip you and Moon both new asses if you were still here when Moon's security shift started. "C'mon! I gotta go to bed sometime! Don't want me to miss out on sleep, do you?" You say, knowing his coding as well as you do the back of your hand. Better, even.
His sleepy time protocols were strong, kicking in on any mention of sleep or being tired.
It's so strong you have to call sleep 'awake breaks' when you are around him. That is unless you want Moon trying to rock you in his arms and pop a bunch of Moondrops in your mouth until you are snoring (or in a coma).
That would be nice, but you need to get his maintenance done first.
He snickers as he darts around in the rafters, having what you refer to as Moon Zooms. You can only tell from the blips of red light that trail from his eyes as he flies around along the rafters and darts across the cloud shaped lights.
You walk around in the darkness of the Daycare, looking for and calling out to Moon. You pleaded with him, promised to name your firstborn after him, and even offered to buy him a Toyota Corolla if he just came back down.
As you were walking, you weren’t looking down rather looking up, you trip on a forgotten pile of rags you or Sun- who are you trying to fool? Sun wouldn't have forgotten them- left on the floor. You had them in one pile and had meant to bag them up when you were done. You curse your forgetfulness as your belly flop onto the floor, your face catching your fall.
Moon snickers at you. The asshole. With a glare to the ceiling you pick yourself up and dust yourself off. You walk back towards the last place you saw that was bathed in red.
"You know you-" Your gaze scans the area and finds no sight or indication of Moon anywhere. Above the teleprompter? No. In the Naptime Nook? no, the jungle gym- either one, nope...
You dumbly flinch, gasping as you startle. Moon reappeared right behind you.
He is paused, still as a statue, poised by the pile of rags your foot snagged on. He had one fugly slipper hooked into the offensive pile and the other cocked oddly, fully prepared to make fun of your mishap.
He looks at you.
And you look at him.
And he looks at you.
And you look at him.
And he looks at you.
And you look at him.
"Don't-" You go to say, but Moon commits to the bit. His metallic, lanky ass flails and falls.
Moon just sniggers, taunting you as he flails around. He's making fun of you, and how you almost busted your ass on the Daycare floor. He doesn't have to speak. The vibes are giving, one creature to another. Moon isn't even falling, only standing there and acting stupid. You deadpan at him as he makes a fool of you or himself, neither of you are sure.
Right now all you can think about is how annoying he can be.
So cutely, endearingly, annoyingly annoying.
Moon could irritate the utter shit out of you, get under your skin, he knew every single trick in the book to taunt you and rile you up, much like he's doing right now. He’s spiked your heart rate for sure, but not just because he's a walking, talking embodiment of what a proper jester should be.
You like Sun because he's cute and funny and he includes you in conversation and he's a little bit of a prick sometimes and that may or may not hurt your feelings but he's also sweet and this sounds cliche but he's like literal sunshine otherwise.
You don't know why you like Moon.
He's annoying, he pranks you every chance he could get, he teases you relentlessly. He's not nice to you. He will actively make your day and perhaps life harder just because he thinks it's funny. You are sure he alone has led to your blood pressure rising on a daily basis.
But, in some twisted part of your mind, you find this just as enamoring as Sun's warmth.
You can feel a headache coming on and you rub your face. "I love you to death, really I do, but you're breaking my balls here." You say light heartedly. Your voice is muffled by your hands being over your face. "Let me finish getting you cleaned out, which is not my job to do by the way, or I'm going to whip your navy colored ass." You miss when Moon stifles, stilling mid-flail.
You sigh, raking your hands cathartically down your face. Moon is gone again.
You whirl around, looking for him. Prickles go up your spine at how fast he can make himself disappear and you have to remind yourself that he isn't dangerous. You don't know why he makes you feel like you're in the same room as something monstrous.
It's just Moon. He's silly and pestering but he's not harmful.
In the darkened area you look for Moon only to be surprised to see him leaned against the security desk, something small in his hand.
He throws it up, whatever it is being ball-shaped in silhouette, and catches it as it comes down. Over and over again as he builds the suspense. You squint your eyes and try to figure out what in the world he is doing.
"Let's play a game." He rasps, sounding every bit mischievous. He throws the ball up again and catches it. Long, clawed fingers hold in on it and you hear the familiar, robotic monotone voice of your bluetooth speaker announce it's ready to pair. You cock your head, intrigued by whatever Moon is trying to achieve.
Moon snickers in his usual 'cat-got-the-mouse' way. "Let’s pick something on your music player that reminds us of the other and see what we both come up with." He snickers. That wasn't much of a game.
Undoubtedly he has something planned. It's Moon we're talking about here. Of course the little shit is going to pick something stupid for you. Something that is cringey and annoying.
Something like the Hampster dance song.
You also get to play one for him. A song would be a perfect way to hint at your affections for him, them, the Attendant in general. Like you had wanted to earlier but were interrupted by Sun being impatient to get the Daycare clean. You aren't going to miss the opportunity again now that it made its way back to you.
Out of either side of the Attendant, you do think Moon would be the best choice to test the waters of a confession with. You don't think he would be delicate about it in any way, but he wouldn't look at you pitifully like Sun would, or let you down hard and fast like Sun, either. All backwards, passive aggressive, Sun way that Sun would do.
You swallow your nerves thinking about that. Moon would be blunt, harsh and most likely just fly away if he didn't reciprocate.
That's on brand for Moon normally.
"Me first, though." You say as you reach for your phone faster than Chica does an unguarded slice of pizza. You walk up to him as you scroll, tongue peeking out of your mouth as you look, look, look....
Ah, perfect.
"Let me get you fixed up in the meantime." You say without looking at him. "I'm not getting jumped on by Vanessa or Sun just because you wanna play around." You remind him of who you'd have to deal with if you got caught lurking in the Daycare after hours again and set your phone down as it loads the song.
You are absolutely sure you're blushing with how hot your face feels. You can feel it to the tips of your ears and even peeking under your uniform. You cringe as you try not to think about how that might look from his POV. You hope his optics aren't 4KHD in the dark.
You bite your lip, chewing at the skin, like you do when you are nervous. Because you are.
Mitski's Mine All Mine starts playing, that melancholy melody filling the empty space.
If that isn't a hint, you don't know what would be.
Moon stills, head checked as he listens to the song you picked out for him. You would simultaneously kill to know and not know what he is thinking right now. You are too busy opening his chest hatch and wiping down his innards with disinfectant to notice how much he softens. If you had been paying attention, you couldn't tell anyway with his stark no-thought-behind-his-eyes expression he wears anyways.
You sing along to the lyrics, though more quietly because Moon really will yell if you start singing out loud. Seems like each Attendant hates singing. Fair enough. .
If it goes badly, if he seems like he's uncomfortable and you're crossing lines, you've already come to the conclusion to tell him that you've picked it because it has his name in the lyrics. Is it a lie? Yes. Is it believable? You know damn well it isn't. You just hope he'd be polite enough not to call you out on it.
Your voice quivers on the "my love" parts, which makes you feel embarrassed. You won't forget about it for years, probably something that would keep you up at night just to remind yourself of it and cringe.
You are so focused on the airy, sweet sounding lyrics and melody that it feels like you are done in the blink of an eye. You don't have the excuse of cleaning anymore to explain why you aren't looking at him. Standing in the dark, neither of you say anything. You don't know what could be going on in Moon's head at all in the slightest, but you are also afraid to know.
The song cuts off painstakingly slowly. You sheepishly glance up at Moon, bracing for what kinds of questions he would have. You were sick to your stomach from the nerves and more than a tad embarrassed. While you don't regret your feelings, you do regret bringing them up now. Your heart is racing and you are almost shaking and you feel like you could puke.
"My turn~" He purrs, not saying anything about the song you picked out. It feels like sandpaper on your nerves, you were expecting something, dammit!
For him to like it or hate it or hate you or confront you. Hell, in your whirring thoughts, you even prepared for a fight. It was entirely illogical, you know but it was better than nothing.
Moon quickly grabs your phone, using his silicon tipped fingers to scroll. Moon's eyes dart over the numerous songs as he scrolls through them. He doesn't speak for a while. Suddenly he starts tapping the screen over and over again at it like the song he found would fix his whole life.
You take in a shaky breath, feeling more nervous than you probably should. The short time it takes for it to load feels like eons. Ears straining to hear, you take in the chiming notes and the higher voice of the singer as she begins. You tilt your head, confused as to why this would remind him of you.
The song has been in your playlist for a while and you've had to have played it numerous times in Moon’s presence. Honestly, you've never paid too much attention to the lyrics until now.
Your face couldn't get any hotter.
"Why does this-?" You go to ask before Moon sweeps you off your feet and takes you high into the ceiling. You grasp onto him, you're not really a fear but not-not a fear of heights making itself known.
Moon's raspy snicker fills your ears, sounding far away and right inside your head at the same time. The wind from your quick ascent blows your jumpsuit and hair, sending chills down your spine. Your heart beats all the way down into your fingers, something you find very uncomfortable.
He holds you securely, much like Sun had when he danced with you. One hand wrapped firmly around your waist and the only difference being that he didn't hold one of your hands in a traditional waltz like Sun had, but laced it in a way that he supported your back and cradled the back of your head at the same time. This was much more close than the cordial dance with Sun.
After you acclimated to the altitude, you realized that the way he swung and glided was in rhythm to the song. You can appreciate that, impressed by it. You look at him, his red eyes having a softness you've barely seen.
In this moment you realize something. This is some fanfiction type shit.
You should know, you fanfiction nerd. It's a habit that you haven't been able to kick since you were a teen.
Moon spins with you, slowly and oh so carefully so you don't fall, leans you down into a dip at the song's apex while also twirling you both in the air. Oh, that glorious bastard picked the remixed version, too. The one with extra bass or whatever they’ve added to make it slap that much harder.
None of your maladaptive daydreams could ever compare to this moment.
You run your hands in your hair and bellow laughter that gets drowned out by the blood whooshing in your ears and the music.
You were afraid of heights but felt like there was nowhere safer to be than in the arms of your best friend, upside down and pirouetting in the tall ceilings.
The song blares, instruments you have no idea what they are twining perfectly for this moment.
"~in the middle of the night, in the middle of the night~"
Your face flushes. From being upside down, yes, but from the implications.
Moon pulls you up to look him in the face, your hair undoubtedly looking like shit and falling out of the hair tie and into your face, as the melody washes over you both like a blanket of stars in a galaxy of... perfect as you spin and twirl and dance to the song.
You are properly brain-rotted right now. Thought.exe no where to be found, try again later.
Moon looks at you, and you at him. He lowers you both down to where his feet are close to the floor but not quite yet. You open your mouth to speak, maybe confess your feelings, maybe ask if he was the one confessing.
That is, until a flashlight gets shone into both your eyes.
Moon hisses as the light seers his dark adapted optics and drops you all of five feet onto your ass. You have the mind to be startled, hopping up to confront however decided to break up your moment. "Hey-" You start, but freeze when you see the pair of cold emerald eyes staring back at you, illuminated by the teleprompter and you sink back down, tail between your legs.
Vanessa couldn't look more tired, or disappointed. Even more than her normal look of tiredness and disappointment. "I'm not going to ask." She sighed in monotone. "But if you're done doing... whatever that was, I need the Nighttime Attendant to go on rounds with me." Vanessa huffs at the both of you and shines her light at Moon again for good measure.
You don't need to be told twice.
You quickly bid Moon goodnight and grab your things and scamper away like a cockroach in the light.
You can't help the smile on your face.
Moon, thankfully, is a blunt kind of bot. Subtly not subtle.
If what he just pulled wasn't a hint, you don't know what is.
You like the Attendant and by golly, he likes you too! With a determined pep to your tired but exhilarated step, you know what to do.
Your ducks may not be perfectly in line, but you now have a landing pad for your leap of faith now, a lilypad for your frog of love if you will.
You were high on Attendant and you think perhaps too much blood rushed to your head and drowned your remaining brain cells. It didn't matter, because all you had to do now was confess your feelings to the Attendant and you would have an answer to your seemingly reciprocated feelings.
You don't have anything standing in your way anymore, and you let out a whooping holler as you run through the side halls and tunnels to your room in Parts