You were woken up by something repeatedly poking you in the face. You opened your eyes groggily, seeing a blurred figure in front of you. You blinked the fog away and saw Molten Freddy. You swatted their hand away, groaning as you rolled over.

"(Y/N)," you heard Freddy whine.

"What is it, Fred?" you asked, your voice croaky.

"You-ou've been sleeping for-forever!" Freddy complained poutingly.

"Oh, have I?" you played along, "What time is it?"

"It's only 6," Baby replied.

"It's al-already 6!" Freddy sputtered, waving his arms.

"Ugh, Fred, why so early?" you groaned under your breath, furrowing your eyebrows.

"Come o-o-on," Freddy moaned, shaking you slightly.

"Five more minutes," you groaned, pulling the blanket over your head.

"(Y/N)," he pouted, resting his chin on your arm.

"Just . . . count to 300 in your head, and then tell me when you finish," you mumbled, already starting to nod off.

"Can-an I throw a par-arty?" he squealed quietly.

"Yeah, sure."

You waved him off. He opened the door and left for some reason, but you were too tired to wonder. You noticed the drumming of rain pelting the roof as you closed your eyes.

"Wake u-up, wa-a-ake up!" Freddy shouted in your ear.

You jumped, your eyes widening. "What the--"

"It's par-arty ti-i-ime!" he cheered.

"What? No, I just closed my eyes," you argued, rolling over to look at him.

You slowly sat up, looking around. Everything was decorated, including Baby--who looked rather annoyed.

"Wha- . . . How? I had just- Has it really been five minutes?" you blabbered, holding your head.

"A long, unpleasant five minutes," Baby grumbled. "Yes."

"G- Agh, that fucking sucks!" you ranted, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.

"You know-ow what e-else fucking sucks?" Foxy commented.

"Mosquitoes. Both literally and figuratively," you mumbled under your breath.

"Wha-at? No- I-I mean- Yes, b-but that's not-ot what I'm talk-talking about," he snarled, crossing his arms. "I'm talk-ing about be-eing in a body wi-i-ith Freddy."

"I could stand being in Freddy--"

"Oh, sh-shu-ut the fuck u-up!"

"Pfft . . ."

Foxy shook his head and rolled his eyes. "His god-damn thoughts are con-constantly racing about stu-u-upid shit. It's s-so-o fucking annoy-ing!"

"It's also quite annoying having to be a part of the outcomes of those stupid thoughts." Baby sighed, gesturing to the decorations on her.

"Aww, I-I know you guys lo-ove me!" Freddy laughed, wrapping an arm around Baby's shoulders.

"You better be-be lucky we sh-share the same body. Other-erwise, you would've j-just received a pu-unch to the face," Foxy interrupted, pulling away from Baby.

"And then you would've received me ripping off your goddamn arm," you snapped, glaring at him.

"Yeah-eah, yeah," Foxy sneered, rolling his eyes.

You cursed him under your breath, attempting to wipe the sleepiness from your eyes. Foxy simply snickered. You crawled out from underneath the desk, then started wondering how you had gotten under there in the first place.

"How did I get down here, anyway?" you asked, grunting as you pushed yourself up.

"You must-ust've--"

"Fo-oxy tucked you-ou in!" Freddy interrupted him.

"N-no, I-I didn't! Shut-ut the fuck u-up, Fre-eddy!" Foxy growled, smacking the side of their head.

"Aww, thank you, Foxy," you chuckled, stretching your arms above your head.

"Shut the f-f-- . . ." Foxy grunted, glaring at you.

"Are you getting soft on me, fox?" you snickered as you plopped down in the chair.

"No, I'm n-not. I just did-idn't want you t-to end up fall-alling on me."

"So, you're saying that you didn't want me to fall?"

"O-on me-e! I wouldn't c-care if you-ou land face-first on con-concrete, as-as long as you don't drag me i-in it and get me hur-urt!"

"Alright, alright. Whatever you say . . . softie."

"Sh-shut u-u-up!" Foxy barked, smacking you in the back of the head with a wire.

"Ow," you chuckled, wincing.

You turned on the terminal, about to finish the tasks from the night before. You found that they were already done, though.

"Oh? Who finished the tasks?" you questioned. "Don't tell me Foxy finished them."

"Of c-course not!" Foxy scoffed.

"I di-id!" Freddy exclaimed, raising his hand.

"Oh, right. Thank you, Fred."

"N-no prob-oblem!"

You leaned against the arm chair, resting your chin in your hand. What could you do until work started? There wasn't much to do in the office. You suddenly felt something nudging your cheek, making you glance down. One of Freddy's wires were poking you.

"Fred, what are you doing?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Your fa-ace . . ." Freddy mumbled.

"What about it?"

"It's all-all squishy-y."

You let out a long sigh as he squished your cheek. Another wire started to make its way toward your other cheek, but you shooed it off. He pulled up your lip, seeming to be mesmerised by your teeth.

"Fred, please stop," you mumbled.

"A-am I hur-urting you?" He paused.

"No, but there's a thing called 'personal space.' And while I'm fine with you in my personal space, there's this 'inner bubble' that I'd rather you stayed out of. At least at this moment."

"That-at's gross," Foxy butted in.

You slapped the wire away, glaring at him. He glared back, a small smirk on his face. Distant "thump"ing sounds made you look over, your face relaxing into a questioning look.

". . . What is that?" you wondered as you stood up.

"It s-sounds like knock-ocking," Ballora noted.

You followed the noise out of the office, opening the door. You looked around, then saw a shadowy figure at the front doors, knocking on them. You shut the door--keeping Molten Freddy and Baby hidden--and quickly made your way across the pizzeria.

The figure waved to you, seeing as you were walking towards them. You gave a small wave back as you dug the keys out of your pocket. After unlocking the door and opening it, you noticed the purple of his skin and the lack of hair--though his head was covered with a baseball cap and the hoodie of his jacket.

"Are you okay, dude?" you worried.

"Of course. A little rain certainly won't hurt me," he replied, his familiar accent making your fists instinctively tighten into balls.

"Who- . . . What were you doing out there?" you questioned, making sure you sounded worried.

"I've been meaning to come by for a while. Are there any applications open? I'd like to apply for a job."

"Oh . . . Um. You realize we're closed right now, yeah?"

"Yes. I just saw that someone was already here, though, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to come by."

"If you could come back some time later, when we're open . . ." you suggested, trailing off.

"Oh, yeah. I can do that," he agreed.

"Yeah . . ."

"I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then." He nodded as he turned around.

"Before you leave, can I get your name?" You scratched the back of your neck.

"Oh, of course. My name's Michael."

Before you could think, you punched him dead in the jaw. He stumbled back, falling against the doors and holding his face. You gasped, putting your hand over your mouth.

"I'm so sorry!" You stopped yourself, furrowing your eyebrows. "Wait, what's your last name?"

"Afton," he muttered, making sure his jaw was still in place.

"No, yeah. Never mind my sorry. Fuck you, old man! You don't think I'll fall for your shit a second time, do you!" you roared, your hair lifting off your shoulders.

You reared your fist back, ready to punch him again, when he put his hands up. "Wait, wait, wait! You think I'm my father, don't you?"

You paused, looking him up and down and keeping a stern look on your face. ". . . I'm listening."

"I can understand the misunderstanding. I sound just like him, but I'm not him. If I were, I'd do many a favor and top myself," he explained as he dusted himself off.

"What?" you grunted, your face contorting to confused disgust.

"Not in that way," he snapped, his face mimicking yours. "I meant that I'd kill him--me."

"Oh . . ."

"I know what he did. I know what he did to my sister. And I know what he did to you."

"Fine . . ."

"Fine?"

"I'll let you have this one, but if you try anything, I won't hesitate--" You folded your arms and raised an eyebrow--". . . bitch."

"Okay. Glad to know you're giving me mercy this time," he muttered, rolling his eyes and making you squint.

"I'll see you later, Michael," you hummed, a little venom when 'addressing' his 'name.'

"You too," he sighed.

He turned around and opened the door, stepping back outside. You closed the door behind him and locked them. You heard the office door open a bit.

"Who was-as that?" Molten Freddy wondered.

"'Michael Afton,' " you sneered, throwing up air quotation marks.

"M-Mikey-y?" Freddy excitedly questioned, jumping out of the office.

"What was-as he do-ing here?" Ballora asked, pulled herself up to crawl along the ceiling to you.

"Applying for a job, supposedly. I don't know about him, though. The last person to tell me they were Michael Afton was that bastard, William."

"Was his-his sk-skin purple?" Foxy lowered beside you, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Your eyes widened.

"It was Mich-ichael, then. Y-yeah, the purple skin's kind-ind of our-our fault."

"What? What'd you do?"

"Where we-e scooped out all-all his insides, his-is body is decay-aying!" Freddy exclaimed, as if what he had just stated wasn't vile.

"Oh . . . wow. That's horrible," you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck.

"I-I mean--" Foxy started, sounding as if he were about to try to defend himself--". . . You're ri-ight."

"Oh no. Ugh, now I feel bad." You pulled at your hair. "I was a total asshole. "

"What-at'd you do?"

"I fucking punched him."

"You p-punched hi-im?"

"Yes. I punched him in the face."

"Why?" Foxy raved.

"I thought he was William!" you defended yourself. "I wasn't going to let him trick me again!"

"But he w-wasn't, and now you've ma-a-ade an asshole of yours-self," Foxy sneered.

"Shut up, I know!" you barked, waving your arms.

He snickered, folding his arms condescendingly. You glared at him, not taking your eyes away from his as you grabbed your phone from your pocket. He raised an eyebrow as you began tapping at your phone.

"What-at are you d-doing?" Foxy wondered.

"I have to call James--"

"Ja-ames? Wh-why?" Foxy sassed.

"I have to get his input on something," you growled, glaring at him for interrupting you.

"His-is in-input?" Foxy jeered, then started laughing.

"Shut up, will you," you grumbled, putting your phone up to your ear.

"W-wait, wait-ait, put it on speaker! I want to-to hear this t-t-twat."

"Fine. Just keep your mouth shut. Okay?"

"Unless he t-talks shit about-out me--"

"No, you don't--"

"(Y/N)?" James's voice made you stop yourself.

"Yep," you replied.

"S-so, how are you?" he chuckled nervously.

"I'm not in the mood," you sassed, rolling your eyes. "This is purely a business call. No shit."

James sighed. "Okay. What business matter is it?"

"Um . . . Are we hiring?"

"Yeah. We could probably use the help."

"Alrighty. And . . . do we have applications?" you murmured, scratching the back of your neck.

"Of course we do. Why do you ask all this? Did someone call?" James wondered.

"Well, not technically. A man came by the pizzeria, asking to apply for a job. I wasn't sure if we were actually hiring anyone, so I told him to come back when we were open," you mumbled bashfully.

"Why would he come so early?" James questioned, sounding skeptical.

"I'm not sure. He said he figured he should come by since he saw that someone was already here." You shrugged.

". . . Well then, I'll be over in a couple hours to help get ready for the day."

"Alrighty, see ya later."

"Wait- . . ."

"What is it?"

"I . . . See you later."

Before you could ask what he was going to say, he hung up. Your eyebrows furrowed as you glared at your phone. Foxy snickered.