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Six pm. Charlie couldn’t help the full-body sigh that came along the sight of Dave 'politely’ shoving the lingering customers out the front door. There was something intensely satisfying about seeing the adults who thought yelling at Charlie would make them do their job faster just moments ago getting beat out with a broom. After the hellish week it had been, it was especially cathartic when Dave managed to nail a bratty child in the head. They cover their mouth to hide as they snort, right as Dave finally manages to close the front doors.
“There we go! Everythin’ is ready for closing.” He declares. He dusts his hands off, turning on his heel to head towards the safe room. Charlie never envied his job as a performer. They would rather work here for free than have to be in those moldy death traps the company called suits. Though that sentiment would never be said aloud, lest their boss catch wind that they had a way to be bullied into working for free.
Speaking of, the phone-man himself stepped out from the main offices as Dave swung into the safe room. While the name on his lapel pin said he was Scott Cawthon (all the phone-headed bosses were, save the rare Scottie), Charlie had taken to calling him Steve. At least on the off-hours. Sir was too formal when they were off the clock, and it felt strange calling him Scott or Mr. Cawthon. From what they’ve heard about the phone headed bosses, they were mass produced in a factory somewhere. Hence why they were all Scott Cawthon. But Charlie wanted to call their boss something that wasn’t a mass produced moniker. Unfortunately for him, Charlie was never the most creative crayon in the box. Thus, the nickname of Steve was born.
As they pass Steve heading towards the safe room, they bump his shoulder with theirs. “ What’s the verdict tonight?”
Steve tips his head back a little. His shoulders relax as his dial releases, making a quick clacking sound that Charlie attributed to a sigh. “Well, other than a few of the arcades being busted? Pretty average day.”
Charlie grimaces as they open the safe room door, keeping it propped with their foot. “Shit, so how many lawsuits is that?”
Stopping midway across the dining hall, Steve turns around. “Since when does having a ‘pretty average’ day equate to lawsuits?” He asks, gesturing somewhat exasperatedly.
Raising an eyebrow, Charlie gestures back at him, vaguely motioning to as much as the pizzeria as they could. Dave, who was still slowly stepping out of his springlock suit, barked out a laugh.
“They’ve got ya there, Scott. This place is pretty shit!”
Steve’s dial spins, mimicking an eye roll as she shakes his head. Yet the clicking dial couldn’t fully mask the quiet chuckle Steve had given in response. Charlie grins, ducking their head down to hide it. They were never quite sure how to feel about how comfortable they were here. Happy, even. On one hand, who the hell cares? Certainly not their customers. Not the family that Charlie didn’t have. On the other hand, it was a little pathetic that the happiest they’ve been has been at a restaurant that has a horrid reputation. Even more pathetic, perhaps, was the growing fondness for their boss.
“Shittiness aside,” Charlie says, reigning their smile into a smirk as they look back up, “We survived the weekend, and I think that calls for a celebration.”
Steve crosses his arms, “And what kind of celebration are you thinking, employee?”
“Same old, same old.” Charlie responds, “We all get ready and reconvene in an hour or so. Sound good?”
They don’t wait for an answer, finally slipping fully into the safe room, letting the door close with a heavy thunk. Striding to the leftmost corner where the janitorial stuff was kept, they started to shrug off their uniform. By now, Dave had finally shed the last of the springlock suit, and made his way over to Charlie’s corner of the room. As they step out of their uniform, Dave nudges them lightly.
“Ya think phone face is gonna be there tonight?”
Charlie shifts, grabbing their coat off the only other hanger and tugging it on. “I mean, I hope so. Only got a few more weeks of working here, so only a few more weekend celebrations.”
Dave grunts as Charlie hangs their uniform up. They turn, and Dave has an unreadable expression on his face. It's only for a moment though, as he quickly cracks out his usual uncomfortably wide smile before Charlie can properly ask about it.
“Yer right, young blood!” He pats Charlie roughly on the back, making them wince. Their face scrunches at the use of their beloathed nickname. Whenever Dave used it, it meant he thought they had done or said something wrong. Most of the time he just used it to get Charlie to clean up all of the BBQ stains on the restaurant seating.
He starts to walk forward, pushing Charlie alongside him. “We’ll just hafta’ make these next celebrations somethin’ for phone face ta remember!”
The two exit the safe room, splitting up in the dining room. Dave said something about a plan for the following weekend before exiting the restaurant. It was frankly terrifying whenever Dave actually planned to do something, but Charlie decided that was a next weekend problem. As they round to the back of the building, they zip up their jacket. Something that still shocked them was just how cold it got in the evenings in Colorado. It wasn’t something they had expected when they had moved here. Thankfully, they had been able to use some of their tokens from working to buy a pretty decent jacket from the prize corner.
It was especially useful to have during these little celebrations. The rooftop was prone to wind, which only added to the chill factor. Once they were safely on the roof, they zipped up their jacket. It wasn’t until they pulled out the Bonnie Blue beer case stashed behind Freddy’s mounted head that they heard the ladder creek from Steve’s arrival. They smiled at Steve’s barely audible cursing as he stumbled beside them.
“Dave not joining us tonight?” he asks as Charlie holds out a beer to him. He grabs it, cracking it open as Charlie grabs one of their cigarettes from their jacket pocket.
“Nah.” they respond, “Said he’s got some plan he’s gotta prepare for.”
Steve snorts, “When has he ever not been working on some plot of his?”
Shaking their head, Charlie lights one of their cigarettes, taking a deep breath of it before responding. “Fair ‘nuff. As long as it doesn’t involve an absurd amount of barbecue sauce and guns again?”
Steve waves his hand in a reassuring manner. “Rest easy then. From my experience? Dave never pulls the same stunt twice. So that specific incident? Never gotta worry about it again.”
“But other barbeque related tomfoolery?”
Nodding, Steve gives a thumbs up, “Completely viable!”
Charlie rolls their eyes. “Very reassuring.”
Shifting, they grab a can of beer for themself. They cracked it open with one hand. A skill they had picked up from being a janitor. They learned how to do a lot of things single-handedly. Steve nods at their can.
“Thought you hated that stuff?”
Charlie shrugs before taking a swig. Their reaction to the foul drink was immediate. The drink burned the whole way down, and they couldn’t hide the way their body cringed even if they tried. Steve barks out a laugh that was laced with a sharp ring. After setting down their can, Charlie shakes their body in an attempt to be rid of the foul stinging sensation.
“Fuck.” Charlie sputters, voice hoarse from the remnants of the drink, “I thought I could muscle through it for the celebration. How do you handle this shit?”
Steve tries to regain his composure, ringing laughs dying down into a clicking chuckle. “Exposure? I’ve been drinking this stuff since it was only ten percent alcohol. Now it's what,” he turns his can to look at the ‘label’. “Oh my god. The label says this is a hundred and forty five percent alcohol.”
“How does that even work?!” Charlie exclaims, “This isn’t coffee, you can’t just make double alcohol!”
“It’s Fazbenders.” Steve replies casually, “We’re far past breaking the laws of the land for double alcohol.”
With a shake of their head, Charlie slides their can closer to Steve’s. They take another drag of their cigarette, relishing in the smoky peach tang that replaced the… they didn't even know how to describe the taste of a hundred and forty five percent alcohol. At least not without using the word burning. The sun had started to set, the warm colors cast filtering through their smoke plume. It was only during sunset that they would ever consider Freddy’s looking any amount of nice. Charlie watched from the corner of their eye as Steve tipped back the last of his can of beer. He set the empty can down before moving to sip from Charlie’s half-drunk beer. The light from the sun twinkled off his rotary-phone head.
Watching him be at ease, it warmed Charlie’s heart. The poor man was always on edge, and for good reason. Fazbender’s was a fucked up machine who’s soul purpose was to chew up its workers and spit them out a shell of their former selves. Much to their own chagrin, they had slowly found themselves falling for the, as Dave put it, ‘stiff phone head’. He was a right pain in the ass. Always finding something to complain about, and always making it Charlie’s problem. Yet, through a mix of Charlie’s own stubbornness and knowledge of the company, they had wormed their way past all of his walls. In doing so, he had slipped by all of theirs as well. They hated how their heart fluttered whenever they saw Steve. They loved how their face warmed at the sight of him happy. They wondered if-
Charlie drops their head, hissing through their teeth. “Fuuuuuuck.”
Steve turns to them, infuriatingly concerned. “You alright?”
Sighing, Charlie shakes their head. “Just thinking.”
Quietly, Steve chuckles. “The silent killer.”
Charlie nods in silent agreement. He didn’t ask about what they were thinking about. They weren’t sure if they were happy or sad by that. Regardless, they had been quiet for too long to drop anything on him now. Not that they could ever see themselves telling Steve how they felt. Maybe, just maybe they would before they left. They could scrounge up some extra cash they had saved up. It could be fun. They could go to the local fox reserve together. Lifting their head, they watch as the last of the sun slips below the horizon, making way for the silver streaks of the moon to light the night. Pushing themself up, Charlie stretches their arms. They drop their cigarette, snubbing it out with the heel of their shoe.
“Calling it a night?”
Charlie nods. “Yup. Gonna head home.”
Steve nods, pausing for a moment. Charlie watches him from the corner of their eye again. They slide the beers back behind Freddy’s massive head, and he softly shakes his head.
“Thinking?” Charlie prompts, making Steve laugh.
“More than I have in a while. See you Monday?”
Charlie smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
And for all the sarcasm they could have used, they truly did mean it.