#joyfic

Muffled and distant, you can just make out the usual bustle of Sun as he goes about the little home that you inhabit with him. Hopefully he’s not making breakfast - not that he’s bad at cooking but you’re just not hungry yet…

…Have you even eaten yet on that note? How long have you been up?

“Might as well see.” You mutter to yourself with a convenient yawn as your attention teeters off.

Joints pop while you unfurl yourself from the hunch over your working table, maneuvering around the stool to actually face the clock that hangs on a wall just behind you.

He specifically put it there just for you, despite your wishes, just so you’d actually move when it seemed to be about that time.

Usually, it was always just about that time when you checked.

This time was no different, it’s been… Hours since you woke up. You don’t even really recall the surrounding lighting changing with the time. Just after dawn to the afternoon was quite the jump.

“...He’ll get me when he’s ready.” You note thoughtfully, the animatronic typically would get you as he knows your forgetful habits and chastises you for them every time with that same warm smile.

Endearingly kind as he always was.

Though the fact he hadn’t yet meant there was likely a surprise in store for you - so who were you to ruin his fun? 

You spin yourself right back around and continue to fix up the worn out pants.

He was always quite adamant about having stripes on his apparel and was quite averse to stars or other imagery. Why? You didn’t quite know but he’d tell you when he was ready to. 

It was a long long project of patching him up from how he used to be. Riddled with scorch marks, missing pieces and parts of himself you don’t think he’d ever get back. You learned quite a bit about mechanical engineering from him.

He also became somewhat of your walking canvas, the paint you had never lasted long on surfaces that wouldn’t stain like metal - so you gave him new palettes and colors with relative frequency. You think he used to be yellow, maybe golden.

Now he lives freely as your live-in assistant. At least as free as any autonomous robot could.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know?” You offer one evening, looking up from your book so you could see his response.

His hands move deftly. 

“Where would I go? Back to a scrap heap?” He gestures to himself, his rays fluttering from side to side in that way you took as laughter before continuing, hands moving with a held-back speed so you could better read him. “I am happy. Safe here with you.” 

Learning sign language from him had been fun - really, you learned a lot from him that was more than just taking care of yourself, your little house on the outskirts of highrise cities, or the garden that you got much of your food from.

Some days he did have a voice, or at least his voice box fell in a way that would enable it to function, you concluded. It was staticky and muffled as if something was swaddling the device in there and those days weren’t always his best. But it was never something he wanted you to fuss with, no matter how many times you offered.

“Sunray, I put lights back into your eyes and touched more wires in your head than I’ve got fingers - is something wrong down there that I can help with?” You look at him with furrowed brows of worry as he works on his own torso, a mirror in front of him and a pile of your late father’s tools at his side.

He looks up at you with a deer in the headlights look, obviously his hands are occupied so he can’t quite communicate with you but you can see in the way his eyes maneuver and his rays shrink in that he’s confused.

“...What’s that face for? Oh - do you not like Sunray?”

He shakes his head no, his rays unexpectedly popping outwards before doing a spin and he seems bashful of the reaction that happened on reflex.

“Hey, if you like it! I should have asked regardless… But do you need help? Seriously.”

Another shake of the head in refusal and he motions with his chin for you to go about your business. 

“Alright, alright. I’m one heavy foot stomp away though, okay?”

He rolls his eyes in mock, lighthearted annoyance, you can practically hear the “okay mom.”

It’s not long until the pants are complete. A few separate patches had to be done in that you matched to your best abilities but it was done. Your to-do list for the day suddenly shrank by a fair amount.

Maybe you could work on the ribbons? 

Sun held an absolute affinity for ribbons, endlessly he admires those you’ve tied to your plants as colorful notes for what was what. He always got touchy along his wrists when handling them on the few occasions they’ve had to be changed out or replaced due to thieving birds.

So, you were working on a collection for him, one with meaning. Ones for all sorts of occasions. Days he wanted to be to himself, days he needed to be cared for, the whole run of the mill.

So you get up, folding the newly repaired garment in your arms to rest at the corner of your work table before going to your stashed box of work-in-progress ideas, removing the clear segmented box with labeled tags.

Of course, many would just be worn because he wants to - he can give meaning to those as he pleases if he so wished.

The familiar lull kicks back into place as you hem each strip of cloth into a fine ribbon along your machine, the easy trance drawing you in and blocking out the world around you.

You don’t even recognize when the door to your workspace is opened up, even if Sun is someone who is a far cry from being stealthy in any capacity. You don’t notice how he stands there in shock as he looks over what you’ve done…

Sun spies the pants he wore before - the first pair, the only pair he ever really had before knowing you and your sewing machine. Now they brand new as if the fire had never happened to begin with. It was a miracle they survived at all but to see them restored now from the shreds they once were...

He now understood why you spent many sleepless nights in here and fussed over dyes and materials for a good month before settling down.

Currently… What were you working on? Were those ribbons?

He stares at the red strip of cloth feed through your sewing machine, now given a golden threaded edge. 

They look much like his original set, the ones you never got to see. You would have liked them, he thinks.

But he also thinks he’ll love these ribbons even more than his old ones.

The animatronic approaches you carefully, setting the plate full of your lunch down in an unoccupied space on your work table before his arms wrap around your middle…

You’re thoroughly brought out from your reverie at the unexpected contact, just registering the noises of something hitting the surface you were working on before feeling a stone-hard chest press into your back.

Or would it be a metal-hard chest?

“Sunray? What’s this about?” It’s not that he’s never hugged you before but there’s something distinct about this particular one that has you worried.

There's much being poured into this action, feelings and intent that you can't hope to pick apart right now. His arms only wrap tighter around your waist at your question and you feel him softly bonk his faceplate into the back of your head, moving it side to side subtlety.

…Was he nuzzling you?

“I suppose the cat is out of the bag now, isn’t it - this was all gonna be a surprise for you. We’re coming up on a year of existing with one another, isn’t that fun? You’ve come such a long way.” You explain, moving the container of made ribbons over to the edge of the table on your other side not occupied by pants or food so he could inspect them.

Sun stays holding onto you however, just leaning off to the left enough to view your offering.

Something clicks and there’s a little buzz in the air now that you recognize comes from him, it’s the sound of his voice box. Has he got it working?

“I was… Going to surprise you too.” It’s not quite clear, there’s stutters and the audio crackles when he’s done speaking but it’s unmistakably Sun’s voice there. Speaking more than just one word at that.

“Look at you, Sunny!” Excitedly, you pat along one of his hands while awkwardly contorting an arm to hug him the best you can in your given position. A careful caress along his face offered. “It’s the best you’ve sounded yet and you’ll only get better, won’t you?”

Your heart soars as Sun tilts his head into the touch before speaking.

“I… Hope so.” With a final, little pop like an old recording, the buzz shuts off and he pulls away, moving to your side and keeping an arm about your waist while freeing up a hand to look at the ribbons.

It’s not until he has to sign his next request to you that he removes his hold on you entirely.

“...You want me to add bells?” You ask, a brow raising. “I… Think I have some actually, yeah we can do that - hold on…” You get up just to circle the table, pulling at drawers of the stout cabinet that hides beneath your main table. Boxes of various findings get removed before you find your package of silver bells. “Will these do?”

They’re not very large by any means but the way his eyes widen with hope and excitement is all you need. They’d do for now until you get some more suitable for his size.

“Sorry they aren’t gold, that tends to be your preferred color isn’t it?”

Queue the frantic, apologetic and placating signing. You catch onto a handful of words before you reach across the table to still his hands before you’re driving the package of shining, tinkling bells into his palms.

Their sounds, even when in a confined conglomerate of plastic and cheap metal, come out pleasantly.

“It’s alright. Really.” Is all you say before pulling away with a final pat of reassurance.

You spend your afternoon enjoying your sandwich and sliced fruits while watching Sun thread ribbons, bell after bell. 

Sun, the daycare attendant, was an absolute charmer. A shining delight much like his namesake with a warmth to him that made your heart flutter, especially watching how he handled toddlers of all needs yet he had one glaring flaw.

He had zero idea how to handle affections. Physical or verbal, he’d often try to weasel out of them or redirect them to you if not outright avoid you entirely.

You had tried your best to be careful, respectful about the boundaries he was seemingly setting up. Just grazes of the hand here or there along his hands, et cetera.

Moon, his “brother” that shared the same body with Sun, was similar yet somehow he was all the more impish and teasing about it, downplaying your feelings entirely into seeming nothing more than some infatuation. Your closing hours with him often were bittersweet.

Which at first stung - but now it has only inspired a fire within you to get what you wanted out of him. Out of them as a whole.

A kiss. They had begun to dodge your hugs at this point! So you were upping the ante. They wouldn't give you a straight answer?

You'd pry it from them instead.

Now would be the perfect time to do it, the last child had been picked up, you had been on your best behavior the last few days - sparing the animatronic from hugs and touches and so on… Which, thinking about it, may have made them suspicious of you but you’d see if your plan would backfire or not.

It’s just you and him and your cleaning supplies, you had thought all day on what you’d say to him to get his attention and get him in range without necessarily inviting him over.

“Hey, Sun?” You begin, looking up from your hunched position to the animatronic and smile when he looks down at you from where he stands, seemingly none the wiser to your antics.

He’s sweetly lit up by the blaring lights of the daycare. It makes him shine, almost appearing ethereal as his rays practically glow in the surroundings.

With a spin of his rays, his smile brightens, “What do you need, Daydream?” 

The nickname never fails to make you giddy inside and the warmth in your cheeks only serves as motivation. “I was just wondering… Oh-” You stand, reaching a hand towards him some, “You got something on your face…”

Your words spur quite the reaction, his rays doing an endearing flex outwards in his surprise before he’s all but putting his face right into yours, his own hands coming up towards his head, minding the rays while he touches around.

“Where is it - oh tell me, please? Did I miss a sticker? Could you get it? Please, oh tell me it isn’t marker-” His voice box cuts out with a sharp note as you lean in and it seems you’re caught in your ruse as he shoots back upright.

Now it was undeniable, despite his flirtings and jests - with Moon’s teases and prods. They were avoiding you. Getting close to you.

It’s left you stunned and wide-eyed, practically short circuiting, leaned forward with your lips pressed into a thin line now as you stare just past Sun instead of at him.

Meanwhile, Sun was having quite the internal dilemma.

“Shouldn’t have done that, Sunny… They look ready to cry.” An echoing snicker puts the pin in the teasing words, “I wonder how long it’ll take for them to learn you don’t like sharing. Can’t hold them from me for much longer, can you?”

If you weren’t actively in front of him right this second, Sun would be having quite the one-sided verbal argument with the other AI in his head presently. He could definitely share! He teaches kids how to after all and oh-...

Sun wasn’t sure how he felt about the look you suddenly shot at him, utterly determined to do something with a fire in your eyes that has him stunlocked where he stands.

“Oh, you’ve done it now! Their claws are bared, look at them. I’m trembling in my bells!” Moon outright cackles now, absolutely ready to see how this would turn out.

On your end, you’ve had enough. 

Grabbing him at his forearms, he hardly has the time to react to you pulling him down more to your level. He is a hapless mess to your whims, barely getting out a “Daydream wha-” before your face is smooshed against his in the best way you can offer for a kiss while on your tippy toes with closed eyes.

He goes stiff as stone, the once pliable animatronic is now no more than a nifty marble statue and you can feel his inner mechanical workings go into overdrive. A distinct vibration that holds an all-too-audible hum in the air around you.

Maybe you should have asked - eased him into this and just as you’re pulling away to apologize, your hands peeling away with a lingering touch, Sun moves.

A hand carefully cradles your jaw, his thumb just at your chin to coax you into staying in place while his other hand settles respectfully on your waist and he’s pushing your head back with his own.

In another moment, the hand at your waist is digging into the skin and carefully guiding you backwards.

Step…

By…

Step…

The kiss remains unbroken, your eyes flutter open just to see his half-lidded gaze peer back down towards you.

Bump.

You’re up against the wall now and it’s a real good thing you chose the closing hours of the daycare to initiate this scheme as you have just enough room to pull your head away. 

The look of unabashed adoration has you floored and for a moment you’re left floundering, that confidence in you finally burnt up and all that was left was quivering ashes. “Sun I-”

Sun, still holding your face tenderly, hushes you simply as his other hand abandons its hold on your waist and raises up. 

You don’t realize where you’ve been placed.

You think he’s going to tuck hair behind your ear or, heaven forbid, hold your face in two hands but instead you’re met with a practically deafening click of the light switch and the startling darkness washing over you and the animatronic.

In the blink of an eye and the hold along your chin tightening momentarily, red eyes look at you, forming crescents of clear amusement. 

His silvery voice is clear in your startled silence, “My turn…” 

You ended up getting not one, but two kisses this closing shift at the pizzaplex.

While your kiss with Sun was eager at best and clumsy at worst, this one is far more delicate, careful. Mindful of your apparent softness as his thumbs absently press into the apples of your cheeks and gently drag downwards.

It doesn't last long, maybe half the time of the one you shared with Sun and there's a sneaking suspicion you hold that Moon took partial control into getting this ending...

But he was never going to tell you evidently as he pulls away with an appeased glint in his lidded ruby red eyes that speaks volumes of what he wont.

"So... Starbright." He begins in a purr, hovering his faceplate just over your face and you swear that typically unmoving smile becomes sharper as he continues.

"What was that on our face, hm?" Moon asks with an coy tilt of their head to the right.

Of course he'd be able to see through your ploy and you only have to think about it for two seconds at best before...

Mwuah.

You plant a playful kiss on his cheek, giggling at the the way his eyes shoot open wide like he's been shocked.

"It was me, I was on your face."

"...So you were... And we were on yours." He notes after a moment, leaning down before pressing his mouth to the crown of your head and nuzzling the spot some in an apparent kiss.

He still hasn't let go of your face and is still idly petting it. "But you're not getting out of cleaning the rest of this daycare."

"Wh- Moon!"

Your pleads fall on deaf ears as he chuckles, "The fun is over."

It wasn't that you couldn't help clean up, in fact you had tried. Though every time it is insisted that you sit back at this time in the day.

So that meant in the wake of a handful of children who were tucked away with arts and crafts or ready to sleep for the day, you had quite a bit of free time. Free time that was spent studying your sunny animatronic coworker. Yeah... Studying. That felt more accurate than just looking over the daycare attendant. You were taking in every detail and occupying just about every sense that you could.

From the impossibly smooth silk ribbons that wrapped his wrists and were bound by bows and bells that only really sounded off with grand gestures of movement.

To the way the ruffles he wore top-to-bottom bounced with the way he walked, to the bells on his shoes being far more noisy than the other set.

Yes, there was much you enjoyed about Sun and you certainly weren't afraid to admire it.

Of course, this behavior was bound to be noticed eventually which is why you shouldn't have been surprised by his suspicion-laced inquiry.

Key word there is shouldn't have been.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to burn holes into me! What're you looking at there, Sunspark?"

You nearly drop your own face that you were holding with a propped up hand, fumbling from the desk you were hunched over at to sit up far straighter. Off guard to be caught out and called out to boot no less by the animatronic.

A good moment was spent just schooling your racing heart from that startle, looking up at Sun who was now leaning forward over the desk, palms splayed out across the surface. Looking at you with that typical eager expectation and ever-present smile that he could do little about.

Right. There was no getting out of this.

"...You're just... Very - very pretty. Pleasing to look at." You offered lamely, rubbing the back of your neck with a lopsided grin.

Two things occurred after he registered your words.

One, Sun's optics brightened significantly, a little feature you hadn't even known about.

Two, the idle mechanical whirring, clicks, hum, every sound that Sun typically made that you likened to the heartbeat and breathing of any other human just stopped for a moment.

It all came back with the almost camera-shutter like sound of him blinking at you owlishly.

Though the otherwise lack of verbal reaction was getting your hands sweaty and a race of heat crawling up your neck and face.

"Sun...?"

The rays about his head did a spin - seemingly involuntarily if the way he jolted was any indication, almost batting at one of them with something said in an indecipherable hush after. Though it seemed the call of his name brought him back to earth.

"Oh - Sunshine look what you've done to me!" He gasped dramatically, hiding his face in his hands with jittery laughter. "You're a flirt! A scoundrel! A- a-"

"A tramp?" You mused, thinking back to the animated film of two dogs sharing spaghetti that was watched just before naptime today.

Your interjection made him falter once more, clearly trying to decide if he were to reprimand you for the language or let it go since it was in the name of a children's movie.

He settled on narrowing his eyes at you instead. "Thin ice there."

"And I'd fall through it every time for you." The quip came easily, laughter bubbling up as he threw his hands up in exasperation to your antics.

"You are unbelievable, you know that? You-" He was interrupted by the distant bell that signaled a parent waiting for their child and he shot you a, presumably withering, look. "This isn't over!"

"I'd be hurt if it was." You propped your chin back on your hand, grinning at the very clear way he was now all too aware of you looking after him as he walked away.

Yeah, you didn't mind not cleaning up at the end of weekdays.

You'd have to miss this instead.

-

So, all in all, it was a pretty productive morning and subsequent afternoon you had.

Now in the quiet of the night, tucked away in a - hopefully abandoned - lodge that was a fair distance outside city limits and ideally far enough that any authorities searching for you would call it quits for the temporary time being. It was Sun, mini Music Man, and you currently. Gregory and Freddy took the rest somewhere else and deemed it best you took care of the daycare attendant in these times.

Except it seemed like you were the least qualified person to manage this task at this point in time.

Sun was just about to pace a hole into the carpet, mutterings coming from his voice module that were unintelligible though you could occasionally make out friend and purpose.

You could only hazard some guess to what he was actually saying but you knew this was essentially a breakdown. The closest you've seen him come to it at least. He had never gotten even halfway to this point on the daycare's busiest days of snot-nosed children and flu season.

The only reason he hadn't switched yet was probably because he, as the very first thing, had turned on just about every light in the living room upon arrival and it seemed to be just enough.

Though he needed rest.

He needed a break from being at the front of the stage.

"Sun...?" You began warily, removing the mini Music Man from your lap and tucking him off to the side on the couch you were currently sat on. Standing up after and approaching the attendant.

Drawn by either your voice or your movements, blinding eye-lights snapped to you then. Optics impossibly wide and it almost seemed like he held a grimace.

A differing emotion from one quite literally forged onto him was... Frightening.

And incredibly sobering.

"Hey... Look at me, you see me, right?"

A single nod was all he offered you, the mutterings having quieted down now as you had his attention.

"Right, you see my hand?"

His head tilted down a slight, looking over your outstretched invitation and accepting it almost immediately after. Taking your hand into his with a grateful squeeze and then he nodded in affirmation.

"Good, could we sit down?"

Hesitance.

Another nod.

You guided him carefully over to the couch, the animatronic landing on a cushion unceremoniously with an almost comedic fwump as his weight settled.

"Okay... I'm gonna be right here with you but I'm gonna have Triple-M here turn off the lights alright? I think you need a bit of rest."

Sun busied himself with messing with your hand he had hostage, offering the most smallest "Okay." That you had ever heard from him yet.

The scuttling pitter-patter of the little robot was all you needed as indicator that your plan was in action, offering silent thank you to the sweet companion as you kept your focus on Sun.

One by one, the lights went off.

Bit by bit, the tension that he held in his form began to ease and by the time the final light as clicked, he looked to you with almost sleepy relief. Eyes lidded downwards and that smile no longer seeming strained.

One final squeeze of your hand before he relinquished the hold so he wouldn't accidentally crush the limb again in the transformation sequence.

A painful lesson both him and you had learned the hard way, though that was fine.

For these two? Any way was good for you.

The rays of his head descended in a wave, a typical nightcap popping up shortly after with a flourish and a little jingle of the bell that rested in the pompom at the end. The pants were replaced by another pair that shot down his legs from the hip.

Day turned into night quite literally before your very eyes and it wasn't long until an ambient red hue filled the room.

Moon looked up to you momentarily with that burning gaze before he dropped his head with a crackly sigh, taking a moment to loosen up in the body after being pent up for so long.

At least that's what you assumed, you weren't too sure how the inner machinations worked between them.

"Thank you for that, Starbright." He offered after a few moments of silence, when you had just began to pull away to give him some privacy.

You didn't think an animatronic of any sort could sound as exhausted as he did in that moment, brows knitting towards the center as you couldn't stifle the concern you felt. Moon had the energy of someone who had been too strong for too long and finally just got to decompress but wouldn't let themselves fall down too far just yet.

"You... Alright there?" You treaded the territory carefully, the two had always been a bit prickly when it came to their own needs and wants, it had taken much cajoling to get them to admit a number of simple things.

Cleanings, privacy, comfort, etcetera.

...Thinking on it now, no wonder the other company figured you'd be good to handle the intertwined duo. You had already been fighting for their own piece of mind for a bit now.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then all at once he grappled onto you, uncaring for your startled yelp as he clutched you close by your waist and hid his faceplate along your stomach, lengthy limbs encompassing you fully in a bodily embrace. Just sat there.

When no further action was made, you simply rested a hand on the edge of his hat, your thumb idly petting in small circles along what would be his temple.

You had always let them take the pace, even if that pace was a slow-burning candle or a roaring pyre.

Currently? It seemed the candle burning was steady after the initial burning of the wick as Moon spoke up.

"Sun is confused on why you did what you did... As am I. You've done much for us and you... Still find ways to do more."

The comment stumped you at first, your little soothing motions coming to a stop before they continued when you found your words.

"I think I've confused you before with my actions, haven't I?"

He nodded, not missing a beat.

"I know you've got a super memory in there, two in fact..." You teased kindly, leaning into him to lightly hug about his head. "What have I told you before, hm? I think I've given you many reasons."

"...You've apologized for liking us." It wasn't said unkindly, matter-of-fact and something you'd never quite live down it seemed as the very light jest was made.

"Yes I have and perhaps those two things are intertwined, if that's what you're trying to figure out. Though I'd do this for you even if I did not hold romantic interest - simply because it'd be the right thing to do."

Moon bit out with a withheld growl, "You've thrown away everything for us."

"I have but life never goes on a straight path - or at least you're often forced to make-do. You'll take wrong turns and go off trail. You'll come across holes in the way that you have to fill in by whatever means necessary."

"...So in this tangle of passageways. Where do we lie?"

You chuckled as Moon seemed to perk up at the use of metaphors, many night shifts you had spent with similar discussions. Always supplying much food for thought from your end and their own.

"I believe you are the beginning of a new path. I know not where it'll lead or what is in the way of that path but I will head down it with you all the same."

His hold momentarily tightened around you before he relaxed entirely.

"What was that thing you told us about caring, way back when."

Your brows furrowed involuntarily, immediately wracking your brain for thought.

"...When you begin to care for something, it'll tire you out in ways? But it is never regretted."

"That's right... I think Sun and I finally understand that now. You worry us but we care for you. We want the best of your health and safety and it is... Reciprocated?"

"Without a doubt." You quipped on the spot.

"Caring is a tiresome emotion but it is... A nice one. Is love the same?"

"It falls hand-in-hand with caring sometimes. It can be invigorating but draining... It is just as tangled as life I would argue."

"We'll have much unknotting to do."

You finally dropped the hug with an unbecoming snort at the joke, peering down to Moon who had finally peeled himself away to look up at you with that familiar impish air returning.

"I suppose we will, for now, let's take things one step at a time, yeah?"

"Yeah..."

-

trying to pin how i wanna write the two is a fun challenge

this is also a fun,,,maybe au to explore

It was supposed to be a simple patrol, a call about “suspicious activity” which you get  dime-a-dozen of day in and day out. Usually it’s a distinct bias against neighbors or particular groups of people, things that get settled with placating words and-or your thinning patience.

The setting sun meant you had to work fast and maybe that was where you began to slip up. Wanting to make it in time to clock out as you had been around the city and on your feet since before it even rose to greet the windows of your high rise apartment.

A show you had been watching recently was releasing its finale tonight - you had lots to look forward to! You were gonna order pizza and pig out, it was gonna be a good night.

However, the location given by the tip-off wasn’t the standard neighborhood or busy shopping district which meant you were in distinctly unfamiliar territory. Instead, you were at a relatively desolate port. An extensive strip of land that had towering stacks of cargo containers that seemed to form an endless maze in an array of colors and graffiti markings. 

Not to mention warehouses.

You parked a small distance away from the buildings and crates, noting the overall lack of traffic over in this area - how quiet it seemed silent for the soft natural ambience of the ocean nearby. With the distant echoing hustle and bustle of the city, it’s not like anything would really be noticed going on here.

The lack of people busying about should have been your first clue that things were not quite what they seemed here but, then again, you weren’t wholly sure how this business worked in the first place. 

Your shoes crunch against gravel before clicking against cement, you strain your ears to pick up on anything out of the ordinary.

The shadows casted by your surroundings are steadily growing and street lights are popping up, you fetch your flashlight from your belt and click it on, casually swinging it this way and that.

A developing sense of unease makes your stomach feel heavy, but you persist.

You shouldn’t be here for too long, there’s no reason to be here any longer than you need to be, yet there’s an invisible force that draws you to one of the warehouses.

Muffled voices steadily become audible, they’re rising at one another in a clear shouting match.

You stop at the wall, a small distance from the large overhead warehouse door that’s not fully closed and light peeps out from under it. This could either be some off-load workers getting riled up or it’s something far more nefarious going on.

Another moment is taken to scan the surroundings and your flashlight catches onto something shiny.

A very expensive looking car with silver accents and too dark windows peeks around the corner opposite from your own.

In another moment, in your peripheral, something gleams in the dying moments of sunlight in an elevated position. A keen whine forms in your ears as it feels like time slows in your fear.

Suddenly, you’re dropping to the ground and practically scuttle away, a bullet right where your head once was making a pretty, smoking hole with a startling clang as the metal is torn through like paper.

There’s a beat of silence, the arguing from inside coming to a halt.

Then the door starts to rise open and now you’re running to the crates, your car wouldn’t be safe, not with the sniper that’s thankfully a terrible shot and probably adjusting their sights with the early night darkness that’s settled.

With fumbling fingers in your adrenaline fueled fervor, you grasp at the radio clipped to your lapel, giving a hasty. “Send units, I’ve come across possible gang activity and have been, -” Shots ring out behind you and ding the crates that you round the corner of but you continue, in your pursuit of safety, you hear a confirmation buzz among the static of the radio.

You’re definitely outnumbered and now your only goal is to survive.

Maybe you should start to take a patrol partner no matter what, your usual wasn’t available - there was Glitch at the time but you were certain he hates you and you weren’t about to make a coworker suffer you.

Even if you think he looks quite nifty since his latest changes and would love to hear all about them. 

That was a matter for another time however.

Distantly you hear shouts of finding “the rat” and getting “the boss” out, there’s sharp clanging of chains and echoing barks of dogs and you internally cringe. Hoping they wouldn’t sic those on you.

“Bring them alive! I wanna know what dingbat has the balls to come here!” A hoarse voice barks out and his presumed underlings don't even have to give a word of acknowledgement, just immediately acting on the order as steps sound across the pavement.

“This night is turning out terrible.” You breathe out as softly as you can, trying to steel your nerves as you brace for what is to possibly come. The descending night air is soothing as a gentle breeze ghosts the nape of your neck, carrying the smell of the waters near.

Briefly, you consider praying to whatever god is watching this sudden turn of action movie-esque events that you wouldn’t end up in those waters against your will.

The weight of the pistol is distinct in your hands as you ready it, pulling back the slide until the familiar click rings out like a church bell, ringing for, ideally, not you.

You keep light on your feet as you weave around the cargo stacks, letting the aggressive stomps of your pursuers act as a muffle for your noises but it’s not long until you turn the corner and ram yourself right into someone’s back.

A note for next time, check around corners before taking them in a situation such as this.

They’re not a friend but neither you nor him have an opportunity to act as deafening too close shots ring out. An itchy trigger finger finally given reason to engage.

Bang!

The body you’re pressed up to jerks against you. 

Bang! Bang! 

In those next moments, you’re ramming the goon forward, shoving them into your shooter. Fruitlessly trying not to think of the terrible moral implications of the deed or the fact that they’re so desperate to get to you - that they’d kill their own to do so.

The situation suddenly becomes all the more real as you’re shooting over the shoulder of the fallen and splattering the crates around you in red before there’s two heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground together.

At least they weren’t alone? That… Doesn’t make it better.

There’s a tremble that’s developed in your hands but you’re unsure if it’s from adrenaline or from fear. Have you ever done this before? No, the bits of blood that coat your hand and run down your face feels foreign and disgusting. 

Was this a you-or-them situation? You think so. Could you have simply disabled the shooter somehow? The two of them?

You don’t have much time to think that through as a flurry of racing feet begin to converge and get closer to your location, loud and steadfast, no doubt attracted to the rapidfire of shots and the only choice left is to run for it once again. Bob and weave through the environment, the location wasn’t that far from the station but traffic could hold support back from getting to you in a timely manner.

Granted, was anything timely when your life's on the line?

Distantly, you think you hear sirens. Maybe that’s just you being hopeful…

…Glitch was beside himself. Hands gripping tight on the wheel and making the leather creak as he sped along the road as legally as he could with his equally racing thoughts burning holes in his head in their loops. Every second felt like a minute and every minute felt like an hour and it all felt like you were rapidly running out of that very precious time.

You hadn’t updated the radio line since your initial call for help. 

The shots over the receiver set his inner workings on a frenzy, a distinctive rush of electricity that no doubt made his face appear unbecoming if the looks his coworkers gave him while heading out were any indication.

But it didn’t matter - none of it would if he - if they couldn’t get to you in time.

It was him with five other officers, three cars total, hopefully it’d be enough but if he had any say in the matter - he’d have taken more.

There was so much he would take and do for you and your safety and…

“Hey… Big guy?” His accompanying partner pipes up, snapping Glitch from his thoughts. Johnson was one of few coworkers that wasn’t naturally intimidated by his mannerisms, a somewhat grounding presence when ambitions went above capabilities. 

Except the animatronic wasn’t too sure if he could be leveled with at the moment. Just managing through his strain a deceptively polite hum of acknowledgement, head tilting towards the human in the passenger’s seat.

“...You’re bending the wheel.”

…

What? He’s what?

If he was capable of it, he would have started to break out in a cold sweat as yes, he was in fact contorting the steering wheel underneath his stress. The top half now held a noticeable curve inwards, towards himself that made his crushing grip clear.

Glitch made a vague sound, pretending to clear his throat as he relented his force almost entirely after that point. “I’m… Not quite sorry, but apologetic to worry you like that.”

All he gets in return is a disarming chuckle, “Not offended, if anything it’s cool, always wondered if those things could actually be damaged. They tend to survive wrecks outside of the air bags… Besides, I know why you’re worried. We’ll get to our fellow officer, it’s not much farther now.”

Not much farther now, that’s right.

It still feels like it’s been too long. 

Did you even have any more minutes to spare?...

…You’re not sure how much time has passed, it all feels like too long yet not long enough for what you’re waiting for. You’ve downed more goons than you’ve been struck and you’ll count every single one of your blessings if any are left after this.

But those sirens are feasible now, your pursuers have caught wind of them too.

You’re tucked in the midst of crates, trying your best to take in desperate heaves of air as quietly as you can. You were doing so well at surviving that you were cursing at how you pigeon-holed yourself now.

It felt like a rookie’s mistake.

There’s the repetitive clicking of a lighter before a deep, raspy woman’s voice sounds, “The fuckin’ leak got help, cops are closing in - what do we do?” A moment of silence, the individual breathing in a cigarette presumably before coughing some.

Well at least she wasn’t very fussed in finding you it seemed, a good sign.

“Seems we may have to cut losses ‘ere, we’ve lost quite a few as is - impressive but annoying.” The voice is cool, collected. Honeyed even, though it holds a drawl as if he watched just a few too many pirate cartoons and movies. This voice had been tailing you casually for a bit now, ever since the initial run in you had with some of his fellow gang members and left them in a heap in each other’s arms against your own volition. 

If him having a level head was supposed to be an intimidation tactic, well…

Consider yourself apprehensive, not a good sign. It seemed he always had a general idea where you were but didn’t want to clue the others in - maybe he liked the chase?

You didn’t like that thought remotely.

Distant shouts start up, orders being barked, there’s slams of car doors and people are clearly making their leave now. Your salvation must be real close, spotted on some not-so-distant horizon line.

“They’re calling a retreat, Tod.”

Todd?

You were being stalked by a guy named Todd?

“Mmm… So they are.” There’s a sigh that’s distinctly crackly, mechanical… This was an animatronic, “I’ll let y’go, I’ll be able to catch up - I wanna leave ‘em with a message.” His tone was firm, giving a resolute dark promise for your head to whoever they were prowling around with.

A choppy cackle breaks into a coughing fit, “Bring back a souvenir.” Another audible deep drag of a cigarette before pounding steps announced her leave.

A moment of silence.

A chuckle echoes out, warm and confident.“...Now s’just the two of us, lil’ pup.”

Oh that was a dubious nickname… You were unbelievably screwed if this Todd found you - but there was no moving from where you were, you couldn’t figure out how close the mafia member was. 

The back-up was so close now, you could practically see the flashing lights bounce around and reflect from various metal surroundings.

Screeeeech!

As well as soon smell the burning rubber of tires from vehicles stopping too harshly along the cement, car doors opening and shots echoing out across the way. Distinctly, there’s a loud crash that reverberates through the ground, someone knocked a vehicle into something it seemed.

“Hands up! You’ve no way to go!” A voice you vaguely recognize bellows out the familiar command. Help was right there…

They’d probably be occupied with stragglers for a bit.

You’re much too occupied with figuring out a way to run to your safe haven that you don’t realize the wandering steps of your would-be hunter had tapered off into very careful tip toes. How unbelievably quiet it had gotten in your immediate vicinity, the noise outside of this personal bubble that was your potential dead-end being an easy distraction.

A distraction that would be your downfall.

Click.

…Safety was just turned off. You look down.

It wasn’t your own, even if you had a gun in your hands aimed at your only way out as means of protection.

So you look over and up, craning your head back.

The towering figure above you has a gun aimed at your forehead. No doubt, he’d be quicker on the draw as he didn’t exactly have vitals for you to maim like his far fleshier counterparts.

The animatronic’s grin is outright predatory as he looks down at you, “There you are…” He all but purrs out, golden fang glinting in the low light of your surroundings. Piercing orange eyes practically sparkle at his discovery of you.

It’s then you realize that this was a fox.

Who’s name was not Todd but in fact Tod.

A male-presenting fox animatronic. Named Tod.

How wonderful.

You’d laugh if you weren’t staring death in the face at this point in time.

“Wonder who tipped y’off our way, did y’never consider it being a trap? Your sorts never wander around these parts.” Tod speaks casually, almost flippantly as he leans forward, pressing the barrel of his pistol to your temple with a little pressing nudge that had your hands going clammy. “You’ve cost us so much, it almost seems fitting we should return the favor to those friends y’called.”

Buy time.

You had to buy time - more time. How much debt were you in right now?

“Is your name actually Tod?” You blurt out without thinking, looking up at him with a wide-eyed blink.

Tod looks just as perplexed as you feel, the hold on his weapon falling slack just a bit. 

You could probably survive a shot to the jaw, right?

Belatedly, you recognize he has an eyepatch flipped-up at this moment, he really was a pirate wanna-be. “...I guess if the question is so burning…” He begins, unsure and still bewildered at your outburst, “It’s not Tod - I hold the name Foxy. We jus’ have aliases.”

“...Foxy the fox automaton.” You relay after a beat, helpless against the dopey grin that forms at the ridiculousness and very on-the-nose nature of his name.

This was even better than Tod and if you didn’t know any better, you’d outright giggle but you know just enough to just settle for your smile instead.

…Okay, a snort broke out. Ugly and undignified but could you be blamed?

Foxy just looks at you, positively floored at your sheer audacity… Or maybe it was your blatant stupidity - considering the current situation you were in with him. However you were frazzled, tired if you were honest. You were stained with blood that, while you sure wasn’t your own, couldn’t be too sure. You definitely had bruises if nothing else.

So you were going to find your entertainment where you could.

A few moments of silence pass.

Are those steps heading your way?

You’re not exactly sure what you or him are waiting for as the once tense air where your life was in peril subsides into something far more awkward.

It reminds you just a little too much of interactions you have with a certain other animatronic who works with you.

Finally, with an ear twitching in acknowledgement to outside noises, Foxy decides to cut through the silence with a sharp huff of amusement. “You’re something else y’know tha -” His words are suddenly cut off by a black blur moving past your hidey-hole and barreling into your captor. The gun held against you clatters to the ground, Foxy’s voice box breaks into something of an animalistic screech of static before an all out brawl starts between the two of them.

You stay right where you are. Getting in the middle of that is a good way to find yourself pummeled… 

…Glitch found you.

He finally found you.

He found you facing down the muzzle of a gun with a deer in the headlights look that you shared with your potential killer. He was already high-strung before.

It was safe to say that he saw red then and it wasn’t just the fur of the animatronic that he tore away from the fox at the base, exposing the endoskeleton and wires alike without care.

When the squad arrived, the criminals were scattering, getting into cars and tailing it out of there or trying to get away on foot. More enforcements were called in, cars were already noted and license plates were spread, the city wouldn’t be quiet tonight and probably not for some nights after.

Especially with the amount of members they were able to apprehend. Many new database entries would be added. New mugshots to be made fun of. The precinct would finally have things to do after what seemed like too long of crickets.

That wasn’t even going over the amount of members you had single-handedly felled. Even if every body he came across filled him with trepidation - there was unbelievable relief when they were turned over and it wasn’t your face. There was a growing sense of pride too.

Who knows how many operations you had interrupted with your actions this night.

It did unmentionable things for him that he’d have to unpack later but for now, all there was to focus on was you and you alone.

He - … They… No. He was so close to losing you just then and he would have been just… Seconds off the mark. Just mere seconds, a blink of the eye really. 

A moment of hesitation or if something else caught his attention, what could have happened to you?

…Very possibly, it’d be you in a bag with half a dozen others and that was a thought he couldn’t bear.

Even more shudder-inducing was the potential of you being captured and used.

All his worries, his frustrations - both with you and with himself, were unleashed in this one moment.

Metal groaned in protest as he forced limbs to snap and contort outside of their range, joints becoming useless at multiple points. Glitch was deaf to the cries of his fellow automaton - but he didn’t kill the bot. 

That’d be too good for them.

There was a final, keen creak of the fox’s arm before it came clean off with a shower of sparks, the very arm responsible for aiming a gun at you and it seemed his system forcibly shut down now to hide from further trauma as the beast-like animatronic fell slack beneath him. 

A pitiful play dead response.

“...Is he dead?” He hears you speak out brittley once it had all gone quiet, Glitch peers over his shoulder to look at you peeking over a crate and looking back at him with doe eyes.

You’d be cute if you weren’t painted with blood… But at least your vitals read normal.

This night was gonna haunt him for a bit it felt like. Rather - you’d be haunting him for a bit. That's more accurate.

“No, no he isn’t… Just out of commission. They’ll patch him up for interrogation.” He answers unsteadily, there’s definitely a drive - a wish to finish the job but he’s done enough damage and they need to find out all they could about what was transpiring here.

So he merely radios-in the stray before peeling himself from the fallen and heading over to you…

…You look up at the new too-tall figure, this time a friend that you finally recognized as your coworker, Glitch. 

Were all animatronics just built to be large? You didn’t think you were particularly short but you were beginning to see a pattern here. Though you were also on the ground currently.

He’s scratched up from his scrap and holds tears in his nice suit. Honestly it seems like he got more hurt than you did, if damages to his surface coloring counted.

“...Can you stand?” He asks after he lowers himself to a squat in front of you, probably trying to gauge your current state of being at a closer level… Or maybe he just didn’t wanna overwhelm you.

You were ready to be out of this terrible resting spot.

“I… Think I can?”

Though, at this moment, you’re not sure where to even start. You wanna put your gun away, you want to wipe your sweaty palms on your pants despite it being uncouth, you also still wanna get up and walk out and get back in your car and go home and -!

Hands carefully go over your own, plucking you from your adrenaline fueled spiraling thoughts. He navigates your fingers deftly with his own, nudging them to get the safety on and to unload the bullet in the chamber. Little clicks and rings being a very nice change of pace from all the chaotic noises you were surrounded by before.

Which, you realize morosely, that bit of ammo was your last one.

You truly were standing on your last leg just then.

The gun is guided back to its holster, Glitch leaning in and making you focus on nothing but him and all that was him in this moment. A hand settles at your hip and for a moment, you’re looking into eachothers eyes.

You don’t decipher the emotions dancing within them - you can barely figure out your own currently.

In a flash of bravery, you ask, “Could I bother you to pick me up?”

Golden eyes widen some - well, his left eye widens as much as it can. “...You could bother me for anything.” He replies with seeming breathiness without missing a beat this time, almost as if he was relieved you were back to your shenanigans with that request.

The hand at your hip suddenly grips you firm and is matched with another hand on the other side before you’re picked up like you weigh no more than a couple of grapes. You only have time to gasp as you’re not held like a ballerina waiting to be held overhead for long, instead carefully maneuvered to be in a bridal carry and held protectively to him.

This is the closest you’ve been to the bot and frankly, you’re unsure what to do with yourself.

Your hands seem to dance between wanting to rest against him on his chest - or resting against yourself in an awkward cradle to your own chest. A need to comfort your savior but also not wanting to overstep whatever was sat between you and him.

“...You’re tense.” You note after a small while, you hadn’t realized how far you went into the maze of crates in your digs for survival.

Glitch hums above you, “I am also made of metal, there’s not much of me that isn’t rigid.” His words are teasing but his tone doesn’t quite match up, it’s distant. Not all there. His thoughts have his attention more than you do.

“You know what I mean…” 

“I’m sure I do.” Without further word, he paws at something along your belt line and you squawk at the sudden prodding.

“What are you-!”

The familiar jingle of keys to your patrol car sounds and is tossed recklessly to another officer on the scene. 

Your hands finally know what to do with themselves then and that’s flail, all outstretched in front of you in a pathetic attempt to take your keys back, “I need those!”

The animatronic holding you pointedly ignores you, as do the rest of your fellow officers, too busy snickering and likely spreading gossip for the image Glitch and you offered them tonight.

“Take the patrol car left over on the gravel, officer…” The animatronic announces your name before holding you up like some prize and you feel your face burn in embarrassment at some of the snickers that ensue afterwards. “Here is unfit to drive in this current state.”

There are cheers at your safe recovery but of course the statement draws some concern.

The coworker who has your keys, Johnson, you think it is. Someone who commonly teams up with Glitch only gives a curt nod before gesturing to you. “Do they need medical attention?”

“I don’t think so. Not emergency at least.”

You squirm, “Do I get a say in this?”

“Not currently.” Replies Glitch without so much as a second thought. It’s amusing how adjusted the others seem to his antics.

Your current escort splits from the rest of the team present after that, you wanna laugh and coo at how he tries his absolute damndest to keep you in his arms. Like a toddler unwilling to let go of their favorite soft toy or blanket that needs to be washed. Going as far as leaning a bit too far forward at his height, just to be able to open the door before putting you in the front seat without so much as an inquiry to your state of being. 

There’s a part of you that wonders how much of this is for you and how much of it is for him.

You’ve just gotten your seatbelt clicked into place by the time he gets into his seat and it’s not long after that where the two of you are off, the soothing hum of being on the road allowing you to fully relax now.

“...Has that always been screwy?” You gesture to the bent wheel a few minutes into your return to the station with him.

“...Not quite.” He admits after a moment of hesitation, “I, ah… Got worried on the way here. Everyone heard the shots over the radio.”

Oh.

“Is that why you’ve been so…?” You gesture vaguely to him and barely spot the way his gaze flicks to you before going back to the road that stretches ahead.

Eyelights flick to you, “So-? I lied when I said I was able to get what you mean.” This time there was an actual teasing lilt to his words, a little curl to his teeth in a clear smarmy grin that has you huffing.

“...Touchy? Protective? …Comforting?” The last word is said with a moment’s worth of hesitation, unsure if that was quite the word to use. “...Maybe reassuring is the better word all together there.”

“Comforting?”

Before you can even note the small way he echoed one of your words - if you had blinked in that moment, you would have missed it. The screen of his face, for lack of a better word, glitched much like his namesake. Turning into a reflective black void of nothingness for a moment before flickering back on and being loudly silent.

Yeah. He had a way of making silence audible. Where no words needed to be said.

Impressive and intimidating. Just a touch annoying.

Then, like nothing happened at all, he bobs his head in a half nod. “So I have - is this… A problem?” He notes, clearly toeing the topic line of boundaries without outright asking.

With a snort, you’re unable to stop yourself from pointing out the obvious interaction you just had with him, “...I let you carry me, didn’t I?”

“So you did.” He confirms.

“And it was nice…” You say, genuine, but also as a test as you keep a close eye for his reaction.

Glitch doesn’t disappoint as he noticeably grips the wheel with a strength you’d know would crush your hand without so much as a batted eye, yet funnily enough he actually manages to straighten out some of the contortion he subjected it to earlier. Pushing it back into place a fair deal.

His strength was known around the station but still… Poor steering wheel.

It’s not long after that when you finally arrive with him at the station, tumbling out the car as soon as he’s parked safely and stretching obnoxiously with your hands over your head, a number of your joints popping with satisfaction… as well as pulling at some strains you gained over your terrible adventure.

Glitch snickers from the otherside of the car at your theatrics and you look back at him and his tattered state.

With a grin, you ask. “Could I bother you for something again?”

“You can bother me for anything.” He responds much like he did before, this time more like a quip and far more impish with a for-show roll of his eyes to boot.

You turn towards him, throwing your arms over the roof of the car and stretching your hands out for him to take with, what you hoped was taken as, an inviting wiggle of the fingers. “Let me help patch you up? You kinda got all… Scratched saving me, thank you by the way - I can’t say that enough, I can’t remember if I did or not already, but thank you.”

He meets you with a stare you can’t quite place. It’s heavy and questioning, unsure but accepting, like you’ve given him something he thinks is too good to be true yet wants so badly to trust in it.

“...Can I help get the blood off of you first.”

“Oh. Yeah, I should probably get myself cleaned up before handling anything…” You note the patches of dried red on your sleeves with a whine in the back of your throat. “It’s gonna be a pain getting all this cleaned up.”

The animatronic finally takes your hands into his own - only to push you off the car with his reach that surpasses yours. “Don’t you have spare clothes?”

“I did in the patrol car that was left in someone else’s care…” You sulk, looking at him beneath your lashes in a momentary pout as you're pushed away, “I typically keep them with me.”

You miss the way he falters at your look towards him, too busy being full of loathing at the days of cleaning and soaks for your apparel, maybe you’d have to pay extra this month for dry cleaning.

“...borrow one of mine?” Is all you catch as you’re brought back to the present when he’s standing in front of you, hand on hip and head tilted to the side some.

So, in all of your brilliance, you offer in reply a dumb, “What?”

He clears his throat despite the lack of need. “Would you… Like…” Glitch holds a hand over his mouth for a moment, looking away as if your distracted attention was the only reason he prompted this to begin with. “Would you like to borrow one of mine?” He finally gets out, looking at you briefly only to look to the side again and pretending to be far more occupied with the nearby road.

“...Borrow one of your shirts?”

“Yes.” 

Both you and him ignore how eagerly he replied to that inquiry.

“Sure.”

“Ah, it’s alri- wait what?” He shoots a look at you of shock, shoulders straightening with rigidity.

“I said sure, I’ll borrow one of your shirts. They’re probably nicer than mine anyway and you dress nice.” You point out casually, making a motion towards his nice leather belt.

“...Right. Yeah - thank you.” 

Both you and him also ignore how clearly flustered he was over the compliment and clear fact that he was, in fact, a dapper dresser.

With a toss of your chin, you gesture to the station. “Should we head inside now?”

“We should, yeah…”

He doesn’t move. He’s just looking at you with rounded eyes.

Neither do you. You’re looking back at him with growing curiosity.

You wonder if you’ve had him pinned all wrong as you take the initiative to move, the animatronic moving wordlessly and seamlessly out of your way to follow obediently in step with you. It was… Odd to see, coming from him.

Glitch opens the door for you and the moment you step a foot into the station, there is a sense of disappointment when nothing occurs, you’re not sure what you were expecting but at least some fanfare? A check-up?

It’s unbelievably quiet, you’re not even sure if anyone is available. Someone could be having a meeting or maybe there was an interrogation in progress but still.

At least the front desk worker pays you mind with a nod and a smile.

“Think most of them are now busy with catching runaways and the like…” The animatronic chimes in suddenly as if sensing your drop, just guiding you along with a hand by the small of your back to his office. “Cabinet in the back left corner, bottom drawer should have shirts.”

You look over and up at him, “Do you have spare everything?”

“It pays to be prepared.” Is all he says as he peers down at you with mischief before letting you into his office and nudging you inside, following through and closing the door behind himself.

It’s not that you didn’t realize, it’s just that you didn’t care as you begin to unbutton your top after removing it from its tuck, going from the bottom-up while taking yourself over to the cabinet.

And just as fast as you began to do that - the door abruptly opens and closes behind you, Glitch effectively showing himself out without a second word of input.

“...Sorry!” You half-heartedly bark over your shoulder, not knowing if things were soundproofed but you might as well be courteous as you shrug off one shirt and tug on a new one.

Of course, it’s large on you. You have to tastefully tuck it in where it’ll count and still have a fair amount of room left over, the sleeves also get rolled up to your elbows for sake of ease.

After a final tug to your collar to ensure everything is nice, you call to the closed door, “I’m decent now!” Your old shirt is in a haphazard ball in your hold and the automaton comes in with a plastic bag in hand that he passes to you shortly after.

He also holds a rag and a bottle of water which you look at, puzzled.

“For your face.” Glitch confirms, opening the bottle of water with one hand using his index and thumb. An act that enamours you far more than it should as the cap is dropped off on the desk, some of the water being poured into the hand towel before he begins to dab at your forehead and cheeks.

It’s not a long process but it’s an oddly pleasant one, just being fussed over like this. Occasionally he guides your head to move this way and that with his thumb at your chin.

You get to admire the subtle changes in his expressions. Especially when he finds an area he missed by your hairline and carefully brushes the locks away to get to it, you could practically see a tail wagging behind him in self-satisfaction.

If he notices your staring, he doesn’t comment on it.

By the end however, the sweetness is gone as he drives the cloth hard into your cheek as if getting a particularly stubborn spot before pulling away altogether. 

“You’re clear, you should properly make yourself squeaky clean later however.”

Poutily, you rub at your cheek with a withering, weak glare that has him chuckling but with the most pressing matter out of the way, one of them at least, you look around his office before looking back at him, “So how do we fix you up, hm?” 

“Well you can’t help with my clothes, for one.” He notes dryly, snickering at how you dramatically gasp in clear mock-offense.

“Why, I never! Just because I’m quick to dress myself down does not mean I don’t respect you enough to attempt to dress you down just as fast!” 

“But you wanna dress me down at all?” Glitch goads, peering down to you, evidently humored by your theatrics if the pleased glint in his eyes was any indicator.

Though at this rate, perhaps he should learn that you desperately need a filter as you reply without missing a beat, “I would actually love to see your model as a whole, yes.”

Silence.

His face did the thing again. Becoming blank and eerie just for a heartbeat before coming back to life in full force.

The stare he’s giving you now is… Intense, putting it kindly. “Are you joking?” 

“I’m not, plus you’re probably gonna have to remove your shirt anyway if nothing else because you’re covered in scratches. Do you have something for those? Anything?”

“...Top right drawer in my desk, little jar. There’s a brush in there too.” He moseys over to the chair at said desk, sitting himself down in it and beginning the process of getting his shirt off.

This feels oddly domestic as you fetch the items needed, looking at the name of the color with an obvious, obnoxious hum.

“What?”

You waggle the jar playfully from side to side at him, “Obsidian bulwark, really?” you jest before opening it up to reveal the glossy dark red, almost black paint within. 

“I can’t help what companies name their products.” His pout is so blatant it has you giggling.

“Mhm. Arms out now.” Glitch does as he’s told and so the long process of touching up all the imperfections commenced. Of course you couldn’t paint all of it, some of the metal was actually torn through, but you could at least make him presentable.

In that time, you spend a fair deal just… Admiring, that felt better to say than ogling, his make. The details of his chest, the two shiny gold buttons that stood out starkly compared to his dark body and you find them absolutely adorable. “I have to say this kinda feels like painting nails.”

“I suppose it’s not that different…” He’s been silent for the most part, just watching how each of his little marks are erased from sight, even ones you’re sure he didn’t get during his time at the harbor but instead sometime in the past that he just never saw. You’re thorough, minding the gradient on his forearm that goes from the almost-black of his body to a carnelian red towards his wrist. 

You lift his arms, you turn them this way and that, you get his palms and in-between his fingers.

When you get to his chest, there’s a desperate need to speak so you feel less like some handsy lecherous artist getting too personal with their latest muse.

“Glitch.” You begin, pulling the brush away for the possible outburst that could come from your new, seeming friend.

He looks at you quizzically, probably wondering why you’ve stopped his free pampering treatment of touch-ups. “Yes?”

“This is probably a bad time but I totally thought you hated me.” There’s an absolute one-eighty in his visible emotion, the unknown tension in the air dissipating in seconds when he levels you with a deadpan look that has you doubling over in laughter in record time. It was a good thing you pulled away as the little jar of paint clatters on his desk.

“You thought I hated you?” Glitch echoes your words with bewilderment, almost sounding offended by the sheer notion as he puts his hand to his chest, gesturing to himself. “Me? How?”

“Okay - hold on… I think - maybe this was a miscommunication.” You try to placate through your shoulder-shaking mirth, “But… You never - talked to me really. Not like this. We especially have never interacted like this.” 

That gets his attention. “We didn’t?”

“No, if I tried to talk to you - you’d get all like… Awkward and stiff? You’d act short with me. Kinda made it seem like you were looking for the soonest opportunity to stop talking with me.” 

Every example you begin to point out afterwards, his apparent inability to interact with you before, makes him visibly recoil more in on himself.

“I - Okay I… I get it.” Now he’s gesturing with his hands to have you stop, “I hope my actions today have shown you otherwise that I very much do not hate you.”

You nod, “Which is why I’ve been very confused for a better half of this whole time spent.”

“Suppose I should try to explain myself but…” He fidgets before ultimately going for the move to make himself comfortable, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. An act that is far too tempting considering his shirtless status. “Easiest way to put it, I could not figure out how to… Act around you, Wildfire.” 

“Wildfire?”

“Mhm. That is how I see you, a burning wildfire. Beautiful and necessary in nature, scary and destructive, going by its own whims or following the winds. You are capable of so much as showcased earlier with how you handled yourself, surrounded by enemies. You’re vibrant, brilliant,” He stops suddenly, slowly blinking at you before tilting his head quizzically, “Your heart rate is startlingly fast, are you alright?”

No. No you very much weren’t. There’s a heat behind your ears and you’ve never felt so flushed in your life before - save for when you were severely sick. Maybe he didn’t recognize it, the way his face steadily shifted the longer he spoke. Sickeningly sticky-sweet fondness and utter adoration in his eyes, his ever-sharp grin softening into a genuine smile.

All for you.

All for what he apparently saw you as.

He called you wildfire. Like you were his wildfire, to bask in its warmth and never fear its wrath.

When you don’t answer in a timely manner, he reaches out to gently brush your cheek with knuckles that hadn’t needed to be painted, the coolness of the metal surface bringing you back to the moment.

You try to get your thoughts in order with little success, “So… Earlier. When you said you were worried for me - so much so you bent the steering wheel…”

Glitch’s laugh is light and airy, a bit embarrassed at his actions being brought up again. “I was worried for you, yes. Not just as my coworker, my fellow law enforcement, but you as an individual, your person. I was worried that fire would be put out and I would be left cold for quite some time.”

This was the same man… Animatronic… Robot. Man. Who struggled to ask if you’d like to wear one of his shirts for a very clean and very honest reason.

You feel blindsided by this development.

“...When did this start?” That was probably the most burning question that needed an answer right now.

At least he has the decency to look thoughtful now, not giving you the “since we first met” spiel that you were expecting. You don’t think your heart would have been able to handle that. 

“Do you happen to remember the first times we were out on the road and so on together? When you first joined the force.”

Ah, your green days… You remember those well, you got one of your first and really one of your only major scars on duty back then. You’ve since learned your lesson of course but… Oh.

“You mean when I took on that madman with you?”

“Yes, when you took a wild stabbing for me - quite literally on that note. Despite your very fleshiness compared to my metal being.” He carefully prods your side where the scar sits, it was far nicer than what it used to be a few years ago. “You didn’t even look agonized over it - you smiled at me in reassurance despite you being the one injured. Most typically put me on the front lines for a reason.”

Damn it all. “...So basically when we first met?”

“It would seem so, yes.”

You deflate with a hiss through your teeth, hiding your face in your hands as you belatedly realize too late you still have the paint brush in your hand. Promptly smearing color across your forehead and into your hair. You could worry about that later. Maybe you’d just dye your hair with it.

You peer at him through a crack in your fingers. “...Are you also why we immediately stopped being paired together on duty no matter what after that?” You wanna cringe at the way you sound so pitched but your nerves are shot and you’re riding an unbelievable high despite how embarrassed you felt. 

To be so prized and valued? Right beneath your nose? For months? All because you wanted to respect a seeming unsung wish while he wanted to protect you?

This feels right out of a movie.

“Mhm, I couldn’t let you risk yourself for me in case of any more bad cases or calls. I know you are not fragile - but I am far more resistant to attacks than you are.” The corners of his eyes get sharper, that sweet smile he held turning back into the cheshire grin you know once again as he’s unbelievably smug about the reaction he’s pulling from you now.

It seems he finally understood why your heart was going a mile a minute.

“Are you satisfied over there?”

“Immensely.” He drawls. “Are you satisfied with your discoveries?”

You hum, “Two more questions?”

“Shoot.”

“Will the paint stain my skin?” You take your face away from your hands, noting the wet feeling across your forehead with a grimace as the brush falls away from you.

“Probably not, it should come off like any other paint. If it did stain, wearing clothes would be an issue for us.” 

Sound reasoning, that leaves you with your next question if he doesn’t pull the “but you already asked a question” thing which sounds right up his alley to do but… Well.

He’s looking at you patiently, kindly.

If a bit smugly.

“...What does this uh… Mean for us?” You point to yourself then to him, swapping it a few times before letting your hand fall limp at the wrist. 

Glitch reaches out to hold that hand in one of his own, the paint having now dried it seems, “I don’t believe it has to mean anything if you don’t want it to. I think we got over the obvious issues I… Seemed to have while interacting with you before.” His fingers find their place in-between yours, lacing the hands together seamlessly.

You can’t help it, the seemingly running joke between you and him now, “...Does it mean I get to bother you more often?”

He sighs and instead of giving you the reply that you expect by now, he draws your hand close and turns it towards him, pressing it to his teeth in a very clear note of affection.

“You will never and I do mean never be a bother to me. You will be yourself and I will admire you endlessly for it every time. Do not hold back on my account… Is this clear?”

The glare he gives you over your hand is plain as day. There’s some underlying threat there despite the tenderhearted words, that there’d be a consequence if you’d push yourself down again even jokingly.

You swallow thickly.

“Crystal… Crystal clear, Glitch.”

The animatronic pulls you in suddenly, pressing his face to your cheek in another kiss.

“Good. You look nice in my shirt by the way.”

“...It’s made out of boyfriend material so I’d hope it looks good.”

You’re unprepared for how he bonks his head to yours in admonishment.

The first one was that you'd pretty much be exclusively handling naptime - not that it was an issue, quite the contrary. Seeing the steadily sleepy faces protest their hardest before falling face first forward into a pillow was the highlight of your day.

For the second? That you'd be the assistant to an animatronic who liked to... Stare.

Just stare.

Sun, in all of his eccentric, bodacious tendencies, seemed to not quite know how to handle you. More accurately, how to handle himself around you.

More often than not you'd catch him staring while standing in the designated "sun spot" like a cat while the surrounding lights were turned off for nap time. The area took up a little less than half the room, just by the tables dedicated to arts and crafts. He'd get the next activity ready there while you did your part.

When you asked about it in your first week working with him. His optics not being equipped for the dark was the frankly flimsy excuse that he gave you

Said flimsy excuses are something he excelled at actually. Most famously was why the children called you Mx. Bunny. You found out that it was because Sun had mistakenly referred to you as Sunny-Bunny while asking about your absence to a coworker while trying to explain to the kids your whereabouts. (You were unfortunately out at an appointment that day.) He had tried to tell you it was because of a sticker that you somehow didn't notice on your uniform that he definitely tried to sneak on there without you noticing.

...That was just the tip of the iceberg for his endearing blunders, really.

Now currently - it was just about that time once again, getting the kids to hug their plushies and clutch their blankets. Where you'd feel... Not holes being burned into you like generally intense stares go but more. Protected? Looked after. A sort of safety net reassurance, a mindful eye.

It made the whole process feel less daunting as each little one in their myriad of ages was tucked away for the next hour.

And for once, you did not have to keep any little one cradled in your arms or draped over your lap while humming sweet little nothings that came to mind or reading a story.

A mission had finally become available. One you had been meaning to do but the stars simply wouldn't align for it.

...

Just... Talking to your coworker.

Uninterrupted.

Honestly, something easier said than done.

Carefully, you pick yourself up from the designated napping grounds, happy you situated yourself on the edge so you wouldn't have to weave between the group of tikes. Though, when you turned to face the Sun himself, you involuntarily freeze.

The daycare attendant was standing where he always did in all his typical glory, hands politely clasped in front of him with interlaced fingers but...his expression was new.

Subtlety glowing eyes set in a downward slope, even his permanent ear-to-ear grin - if he had them at least, seemed to be... Softened in a sense.

And he was looking right at you, unabashed, with that expression you can only describe as adoration. Maybe admiration for a less strong term.

It was the sort of fond look you'd give to someone talking about their passions, wholehearted focus placed onto that sole being.

Your face all of a sudden felt quite hot and going right back to your duty seemed far more interesting than confronting the mechanical individual who was sending your heart to take leaps and bounds right out of your chest.

Sun's hands moved before you could turn yourself away. Untangling before making a simple beckoning motion done with a flick of his wrist towards himself, regarding you patiently with a tilt of his head to the right.

That was far smoother than you would ever care to admit.

Though it meant that it was definitely too late to turn back now.

Stiffly, you wander to his right side and he leans down some to make up for the over two-feet of height between you and him. Making a personal conversational easier, that he begins, startlingly enough.

"Hello there, Daydream, all's well with the kids today?"

Daydream... That was new. Though not as new as the way he spoke to you, tone playfully conspiratorial as if this was a little secret to be had just between you and him.

Your thoughts were becoming more tangled by the minute with this sort of attention. Were you lonely? Was this projection? Is he aware of what he was doing?

You clumsily reply after clearly missing a beat, tugging at your collar some. "Ye-yeah they're a good bunch today, been behaving for you too, haven't they?"

"Only with your assistance, I think they... Need you around." His volume lowered some in his musings, a hand coming up to rest on your left shoulder with a reassuring squeeze as he continued, "You've been good for them, a big help really."

Sun spoke as warmly as his namesake or maybe that was just you feeling unbearably stuffy under the uniform as his praise hit you.

"It's -... It's nothing! Really I'm happy to do it I mean - that's why I signed up for this job, y'know?" You offer, almost dismissively as you try to downplay your flusterment.

"...That's what you'd think - others signed up for this job before you but they've... Come and gone. Replaced," He murmured ominously, head bobbing some as he spoke of those previously in your station. "They wouldn't take this seriously, just leave all the work to me... And then came you."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn to face you fully and allow him to guide you into facing him as well.

You could only hope he didn't have some ability to read -

"Your heartrate is elevated, Daydream, are you feeling well?"

...

Dammit.

"I'm good! Yeah I'm just fine it's just uh - warm in here, yep." When did you become the floundering mess bad at making excuses? "Just uhm... What were you saying? Then came me...?"

The animatronic's eyes lidded some in seeming amusement before he continued on, "Yes... Then came you, who came to this job wholeheartedly. Who helped on day one then went above and beyond by day two. Who's taken up a duty that traditionally we'd just go without and with... Minimal questions."

Both you and him shared a little shared moment of snickers and chuckles as you definitely asked about every little thing. From schedules to him and his abilities to the jungle gyms.

Though Sun wasn't done just yet, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders now. "I'm sure you've noticed my staring," This time he had the decency to be sheepish about what he was saying, an emotion you were used to finally as his eyes flicked to the side briefly. "Though you were kind enough to never confront me about it, I'm sure you wondered why and... It's because of that. Just... You. You taking care of the children, of all ranges and even the occasional meddlesome preteen that'd come about. I... Admire that... About you."

The attendant cleared his throat and you didn't have the mental capacity to wonder how that was possible as it seemed you hit max volume for how many compliments you could stomach without letting them become butterflies all throughout.

All you could get out in reply was some strangled hissy breath as your brain attempted to start up after short circuiting.

...

"Daydream?" He asked after a few moments, looking to you with concern when you had made no other sound nor motion.

It was just enough to jumpstart you to reality again. "Hi - yes, right... Sorry just this wasn't - see I first stood up to hopefully talk to you about the staring thing and you've... Basically turned the tables without meaning to! And I..."

It was becoming readily apparent you and him were both chronic nervous ramblers.

"Thank you really, Sun. I appreciate that so much more than I can really put into words."

You had only been working at the daycare for a few months? Not even a season had passed and it was the most valued you ever felt at a job thus far.

"You're quite welcome! I think it's time we get the activity set up for the little ones now, what say you?"

"...Right! We're still on shift, they'll be getting up soon - I'll follow your lead. I just have one more question."

"Shoot."

"Where did Sunny-Bunny come from?"

You were met with utter silence and you coulda swore his eyelights went black before he spun on a heel and went right to work.

"Hey - I thought we were over this hill!" You wanted to shout but there were still sleeping toddlers nearby so an angry whispery cry would be the next best thing.

"Hmm yes, I do think we should have them decorate snowflakes that does sound like a good idea! Great thinking, assistant!" He moved right along and danced over it like it was nothing, going over to the back wall of cubbies and containers to get the needed supplies.

With fond exasperation, you sighed.

You'd get your answers, eventually.

-