A/N: This fanfic is set in the Ohio of 1987. I've done research in the hopes of making the story as historically accurate as possible. If you notice any glaring errors, however, don't hesitate to tell me. I always appreciate constructive criticism!

Disclaimer: Five Nights at Freddy's belongs to Scott Cawthon. Only the headcanons within this AU are mine.

Chapter 1:
A slim figure leaned on a rusty old lawn mower, mopping his brow. Long, lavender bangs plastered to his forehead, he trudged across the freshly-cut grass and rapped on the door of a nearby house.
A man with glossy blond hair briskly answered the knock. His hulking figure, which was crammed into a well-pressed khaki suit, filled the doorway.
"Yes, Bondon?"
Stifling a groan at the use of his given name, Bonnie Hase gestured proudly at the bright green lawn.
"I'm all finished, Mr. Fazbear!"
"Hmm..."
Mr. Fazbear pushed past the slimmer man and scanned the grass, ruthlessly inspecting every blade. Finally, his fierce gaze dissolved.
"Well done, young man."
Bonnie had to squint to keep from rolling his eyes; Mr. Fazbear was, in fact, only about five years older than him.
"Here is the agreed payment: ten dollars."
"Thanks."
Bonnie wiped his tanned hand on his pant leg before taking the money.
"A few more lawns, and I'll be able to pay this month's rent." He muttered.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing, Your Royal Faziness—I mean, Mr. Fazbear! Sir."
As Bonnie prepared to leave, the blonde's forehead creased, though his face maintained its usual disapproving expression.
"Wait a moment, young man."
After a brief hesitation, Bonnie turned back, meeting the larger guy's gaze.
"Bondon, you have proven to be a reliable worker in the past few months, despite your...attitude."
A goofy smirk made an appearance on Bonnie's face as Mr. Fazbear continued his speech.
"I have an older brother in the city who is in the process of opening what he calls a 'family diner,' and he has been searching for employees. If you ever felt inclined to apply for a job there, I would be willing to give you a decent recommendation."
"Thanks, Mr. Fazbear! That'd be rad!"
Bonnie grasped Mr. Fazbear's meaty hand in his own sweaty palms and shook it violently, causing the man to wrinkle his nose in distaste.
"Yes, well...be sure to behave yourself with my brother."
Bonnie snorted.
"I'll act just like I do with you!"
"Precisely my point."

The next day, Bonnie stood under a new, gleaming sign that read "Fazbear Family Diner."
After a moment or two of nervous fidgeting, he straightened out his shoulders and patted down his long, purple hair; conjuring all of the confidence he could muster, Bonnie threw open the glass door and strutted into the diner...
"Ow!"
"Hey!"
...only to smash into what felt like a brick wall.
If brick walls were a bit squishier.
And could carry a pile of carefully-printed-but-as-of-yet-still-unstapled menus.
Flipping back through his fluffy purple hair, he glanced at the "wall:" a rather imposing guy who was currently picking himself up off the floor.
"Oh shit..." Bonnie whispered. The bear of a man loomed over him, blocking out the light.
"Are you ok?"
Bonnie blinked. Standing over him with one hand extended, the man no longer looked so fierce. He was African American, probably in his early thirties, and only about Bonnie's height, though a he was good bit chubbier around the middle. A few freckles were splashed over his skin, and a neat mustache floated above his soft lips. What really eased Bonnie's nerves, however, were the man's gentle blue eyes, as clear as a summer sky.
"Er...yeah, thanks."
Accepting the outstretched hand, Bonnie hopped up. He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Sorry 'bout the mess."
Bonnie cleared his throat.
"I can give you a hand in getting those pages back in order."
The man threw him a sideways glance.
"Are you sure? You seemed like you were in a bit of a rush."
The purple-haired youth chuckled nervously.
"Yeah, not really. I'm just totally psyched about this job interview."
The pair started gathering the menu pages, which had covered the area like a thin layer of snow.
"So, you're applying for a job? Have you ever worked in a restaurant before?"
"To be totally honest, I haven't. I'm actually a...well, I want to be a guitarist."
When there was no response, Bonnie glanced up at his companion. The man silently met his gaze; something in the open expression or in those crystal eyes invited Bonnie to speak on.
"School's never really been my thing—I dropped out to devote more time to teaching myself to play. Now that I've got my own place, though...well, paying rent's been a bit of a challenge."
Bonnie heaved a whispery sigh.
"I guess it's time to grow up, you know what I mean? Like, I'm twenty-six: I need to start being more realistic, and get a real job. I can't rely on the whole professional guitarist thing working out."
The other man nodded sympathetically. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Bonnie refocused his attention on gathering the menus. After a brief pause, his companion's deep, melodious voice filled the quiet.
"So...you taught yourself to play guitar? That's amazing!"
"Thanks! It wasn't easy."
"What kind do you use?"
"Oh, I taught myself on my Dad's old steel-string acoustic, but I've always wanted to give electric a try."
"Yeah? One of those VV20s?"
"Definitely! The tone is totally awesome."
Bonnie slowly straightened the last pile of papers. His gaze fell upon a nearby clock, and he did a double-take.
"I'd better get to my interview—don't want to be late! If this Fazbear is anything like his younger brother, he'll be a strict old fart with a stick up his ass!"
The man's eyebrows knotted as Bonnie clambered to his feet and turned to leave.
"Before you go: I don't think I ever caught your name."
"Oh, I'm Bonnie Hase!"
"It was nice meeting you. I'm Freddy Fazbear."
Bonnie stopped dead, eyes wide. Moving only his head to stare at his companion, the younger man looked like a deranged owl.
"Uh...I meant 'strict old fart' in the nicest way possible, sir!"
To Bonnie's shock, a deep, hearty chuckle erupted from Freddy Fazbear's chest.
"I'm sure you did. That's an accurate description of Goldie, though—even when he was a baby, he looked like an undertaker!"
"Goldie...?"
With wide eyes, knotted brows, and an open mouth, Bonnie was the very picture of bewilderment. Taking in his expression, Freddy made an attempt to explain.
"He's one of my younger half-brothers. My father didn't know I was born, so by unfortunate coincidence, we were both named Frederick. As a joke, we started calling my half-brother Goldilocks for his hair, and the name stuck. He's not thrilled about it, as you can probably imagine."
Another warm laugh escaped Freddy's lips, and this time, Bonnie joined in. Once their laughter had subsided, however, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed.
"Talk about a lousy first impression..."
"Excuse me?"
"I guess we aren't going to be holding an interview, are we?"
"No, I don't think it will be necessary."
Bonnie rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.
"Our conversation from earlier should suffice."
"Huh?"
Freddy took a creased piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Bonnie. Splayed across the faded, crinkled sheet were the words "Fazbear Family Diner," printed in warm, cozy colors. Bonnie saw that a few musical notes floated in the background. Freddy softly spoke up.
"You see, I'm very fond of children. I used to love taking care of my siblings so I decided that I should try to create a kid-friendly diner. It's taken years, but I'm nearly ready to open this place up. All I need is a staff—and that includes entertainers."
Bonnie's reddish-brown eyes met Freddy's blue ones.
"Entertainers? Like...musicians?"
A soft smile formed on Freddy's face.
"Yes. I could especially use a talented, energetic, and passionate guitarist."
He held out a hand toward the purple-haired man. For a moment, Bonnie could only stare. Then, he gave Freddy a huge toothy grin, and clasped the offered hand, shaking it firmly.
"You've got yourself a guitarist—boss!"

A/N: In case of confusion...
Bonnie = Bondon Hase
Golden Freddy = Frederick "Goldie" Fazbear
Freddy = Frederick Fazbear