#reader x dca

Blinking blearily, you struggle to make sense of a room painted in charcoal and carbon black. It takes you a few seconds to figure out that the reason you keep interpreting the patch of grey directly in your line of sight as a solid surface is because it is a solid surface, one only a few inches past the end of your nose. You really only figure that one out when it moves, the lighter dot of a screw moving incrementally to the left.

An amused huff, and you whisper to the figure crouched over you, "Hello, Moon. Something wrong?"

Soft bells, and the speaker housed just above your ear vibrates with an even softer "Shhh..."

The corners of your mouth pull back in a slight smile, and you snuggle down in your blanket. You're beginning to overheat a little, but the plastic and metal limbs forming this cozy cage leave no loose fabric for errant toes to make an escape. You'll just have to endure it for the time being.

The flat disk of Moon's head takes up most of what you can see, and his arms cover the rest. Wiggling your legs a little confirms what you can't see; the former Naptime Attendant's legs on either side of your own, loose starry pants covering a much larger area than legs could alone. If anyone were to walk into your room, only the blanket around your midsection would be visible under the tangle of jester.

Which was the point, of course.

The springs under your ear creak as Moon shifts, raising up the slightest bit. His head clicks as it rotates, the sound mixing with the white noise of the box fan sitting in your window. That's one of your clues that this is just a Warning and not a Watch, otherwise Moon would have turned the fan off before climbing on top of you so he could hear better.

(If this was a true emergency the animatronic wouldn't have even bothered with that much. You'd have woken up to being bundled in your blanket and unceremoniously dumped into the bathtub, your tiny bathroom having been chosen as the most defensible location in the apartment.)

You can't hear anything, and that doesn't surprise you, either. The Daycare Attendant's hearing is much, much better than your own. Sometimes you worried about them a little, if the noise in and around the apartment complex was too much for them, but the only time you'd voiced that worry Sun had been quick to assure you that it was nothing compared to how loud the Daycare could get. That just made you concerned for different reasons, ones that he'd chased away with a quick topic change.

The seconds tick by, counted by your beating heart and breathing, the soft clicks and whirs of the machine crouched over you protectively. You wonder what set him off this time. Maybe it was two-thirty and it was the couple who always came home with drive-thru tacos and a tired argument, slamming the doors on their worn gold Camry. Maybe it was five, and he'd heard the knocking engine of the navy blue (or maybe black?) truck that belonged to the guy a street over, the one that Moon only ever said was 'unsafe' but refused to elaborate on. With your limbs trapped you can't grab your phone to check the time.

You'll ask Sun about this in the morning, over a breakfast of cereal and an energy shot (because you were out of bagels, you'd had the last ones two days ago and grocery day was tomorrow). There's no guarantee that he’d answer, and you haven't yet figured out if it was because he didn't always know what Moon did at night or if it was because he liked keeping secrets.

Well, that was fine. If there was something important he'd tell you-- you knew that much because he'd promised. They both had.

More creaks and movement, and you only realize you'd been drifting off when you jerk back awake. Whatever it was must have moved on because so is Moon, the animatronic slowly shifting his weight so that you're no longer trapped under him. As soon as you have room you scootch forward, both to give him enough space to settle behind you without toppling off of your full-sized mattress (full-sized for who, exactly?) and to get some fresh air on your overheating limbs.

The creaks stop. Your phone rests on the nightstand but you ignore it, the uncertainty about the time a lot less pressing now that the moment has passed. Instead you flop over to your other side with all the grace of a landed fish, staring into a dinnerplate face with a too wide grin and faintly glowing eyes. His expression is fixed in place and only half visible in the darkness, yet it never fails to make you grin back.

"All clear?"

Moon's head click-clicks and he nods, the bell on the end of his hat ringing softly. "All clear~" he confirms, in that mocking sing-song way of his.

"Good." You yawn, something that draws a staticky crackle from him. "Thanks, bud. You gonna stay in here?"

It's phrased as a question, but really it's a request, even if the bed is laughably small for a person plus a lanky robot. Moon hums softly, considering, and to sweeten the deal you let your eyes close. You know its worked when you feel the edge of the blanket be pulled up higher over your shoulder, tucking you in. "Yes."

"Good. Goodnight, Moon."