Timeline note: Set a few years after Mike and Sulley start working at MI. Not sure if I'm messing up the timeline here. If I do, the story will be changed later.
General note 1: All opinions about names in this story are the characters' exclusively. ;)
General note 2: I've got a Twitter account now! And it's writing exclusive, so no boring chatter about my private life. If you want updates on new stories or in-progress snippets, just follow UntoldStoriesMU. (Because my actual alias would have been one character over the limit…)
The thing about being a janitor was not just cleaning. It was that you got to see the entire company.
And damn, was that a big company to see!
Of course, everyone knew about the Scare Floors, and there were already a lot of those. Someone with a bit of common sense might also deduce that they had to be connected by hallways, because how would you get to your floor otherwise? And being a Scaring fan since his kindergarten days, of course Mike knew that Scarers prepared for the day in locker rooms.
But that was not all there was to the building. There were places such as the mail room, several closets full of cleaning supplies, a room with a Scare Simulator in it, the trash compaction basement, the can storage, the cafeteria… so many different places, in fact, that even Mike had trouble naming them all, and that was saying something, as he usually relished in compiling lists and memorizing them.
And then, there were the offices - loads and loads of offices, and even more hallways to connect them. He was not even sure who worked in all those offices. Of course, he kept looking at the names on the nameplates when they were about to clean one, and they were marked with department information, such as Accounting, or Marketing. Still, sometimes it amazed him a little just how many people were needed in the background to make the whole Scaring business he had admired for so long function properly.
Even as a janitor, it seemed, there was always something to learn. You just had to keep your eye open if you wanted to find the information. Well, and of course, you had to be in the right place for finding it.
He had tried expressing these thoughts to Sulley, but his friend had only joked at him. "We're not in college anymore, Mike!" he had laughed. "There's no need learning this place's layout by heart!"
That, of course, gave Mike the deepest satisfaction whenever Sulley got lost trying to get their supplies. Sulley, in turn, kept making fun of him for forgetting to sign the cleaning lists. They had a sort of rivalry going with things like these, but not really; actually, they just enjoyed teasing each other.
Right now, it was definitely Mike's turn to do the teasing. "Are you sure you don't want me to come along, Sul?" he asked from his place atop the cart that Sulley was currently pushing. "I mean, what if you don't return from the supply closet? I can't do Scare Floor B all on my own, so if you don't show up again, we'll have to stay an hour longer today! Two, because I'm gonna have to go and find you."
"It'll be quite all right, Mike!" Sulley retorted, obviously trying to sound annoyed, but the smirk on his face gave him away. "I'll just go, get another mop, and you can start to take care of that floor already. That way, we might get off work half an hour early." And with those words, he pushed their cart away from himself with such force that Mike had to hold on to not fall off, and it barely missed crashing into the opposite wall. Their cleaning supplies clanked against each other a bit, but stayed intact in the end.
Mike could not help smirking at his friend. "It's not my fault that you didn't bring it along right away!"
"Well, it's not your fault that I thought to get it, either," Sulley deadpanned, then turned to jog off into the direction they had come from. "And now have fun getting started, and don't get caught up in chatting up the Scarers!"
With a small laugh, Mike took the jab in stride; he had yet to bring himself to talk to the Scarers during their work hours. He was still a little afraid he might disrupt their concentration, and as that was about the only time he was both awake and silent, Sulley used it for endless teasing material.
Still chuckling, he watched his friend disappear down the hallway, then hopped off the cart and pushed it in the opposite direction.
There were a few people out and about in the afternoon. Most Scarers and assistants were working at this time of day, of course, and the people in those offices must be busy handling all the paperwork that the Scaring tended to produce, but some of them were out getting something from the drink dispensers, or they just needed a break and found someone to talk to for a minute or two. He gave a small wave when a few of his former mail room colleagues raced by, and they threw back a delighted "Hi, Mike, how you doin'?" as they sprinted past with several tentacles full of letters.
It felt good to not just recognize others but, for a change, to be recognized in turn, even if it was just by those "lower" employees in the company. But he knew not to judge them for their line of work, or for anything but their characters, really.
He smiled to himself as he kept wheeling his cart down the hall. His brothers had taught him this, he supposed.
It was not far to Scare Floor B now, and he was about to approach its entrance, when suddenly, all his nerves started tingling. He knew that feeling. He was not sure why, but he had definitely…
Before he had time to pinpoint the sensation, he felt a sharp stab of pain as he was being pushed into his cart, and the clattering told him that his various plastic bottles and cleaning cloths had fallen off and scattered. The bucket toppled over, splashing water all over his things and drenching him as well.
Instinctively, he shielded his eye against the unexpected blow, but it was not long until it was over and he was sitting in a sodden mess of what used to be his dry cleanings supplies. Great, Sulley should have gotten more than just a mop.
Someone must have tripped, right? While there was not much respect going around for janitors, most of Monsters Inc.'s workers actually knew to respect the monsters behind the job as monsters.
Then he heard the voice, and it became clear that this had been very much intentional. "Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! How is it possible that I did not see you?"
He knew the voice. It was its tone that was new to him.
Mike was shaking. He was not sure why. No, wait, of course he was sure. He had not expected something like this to happen without the RORs nearby to trigger it.
When he dared look up, he found himself face to face with a sneering Randy. Just that. Just a sneer. No teasing like with Sulley, no joy at meeting an old friend, or heck, even just a familiar face… All he could read in Randy's expression was contempt.
"I have no idea how that could happen!" Randy went on, clutching his chest with his upmost hands in mock apology.
When had Randy started working here? He was working here, right? It could only have been recently. How many years had it been since his and Sulley's expulsion?
Randy's gaze slightly intensified now. "I would love to help you pick these up, but unfortunately, I have to be at my Scare Floor, for, you know, Scaring." He paused at that point, maybe interested in what the reaction would be, because of course it was not intended as simple information; it was, in fact, quite a low blow.
And amidst a wave of raw hurt, Mike was surprised to discover the small bout of relief inside of himself. So Randy had made it. That was good. Why he had to go and be a jerk about it, though…
Randy was moving away now. "Well, but you can do this on your own, right? It's not like you have anything important to do!"
His hands were shaking so hard that they cluttered against a few bottles of cleaning solution, but he could not seem to make it stop. Now that Randy was farther away, he felt the stares of the people around him, felt the humiliation burning into his skin like acid.
How could this have happened? What had he ever done to the guy to deserve that kind of treatment?
He could see Randy in the distance, wandering off to one of the higher-labeled Scare Floors, but then another face swam in front of his inner eye, that of Johnny Worthington, and now he saw his brothers, with paint on their bodies and defeat in their expressions.
Had he not realized, the last time this had happened, that just enduring it was the wrong way to go?
Before he knew what he was doing, he had gotten to his feet. "Hey, Randy!" he called.
Immediately, Randy turned around in disbelief, and whether it was at the completely non-scary sounding nickname - surely, he must go by "Randall" now - or at his victim's audacity to speak up at all, Mike was not sure. But for a moment, he was frozen in place.
"People here at Monsters Inc. value each other!" Mike called over. "Be too bold in your elitism and they're gonna throw you out - and we certainly don't want that, do we?" Granted, that was not the wittiest thing he had ever said, but it was the jarring contrast between Randy's behavior and that of everyone else that had brought it to mind.
Randy seemed to be at a loss for an answer. He did not seem to know how to counter the comeback. He did not seem to have been expecting a comeback. Finally, he just turned and left, to the visible confusion of the onlookers.
Mike stared after him in grim satisfaction. If Randall wanted this, he sure could have it.
Suddenly inexplicably exhausted, he bent down and righted his cart, then started to pick up his things. He tried his best to ignore the murmurs around him - it was not as if he had never been through this before. People would talk, and then they would talk to others, ones who had not witnessed the scene, to spread the humiliation. He would be the hot topic of the entire company for a day, maybe two, and then the scuttlebutt would die down. It was the same thing every time. Hey, at least that way, he would get more well-known in the company, should that not count for something?
Maybe if Sulley had been here, this would not have happened…
And then, Mike felt bitterly ashamed of himself for trying to hide behind someone else, for wishing to dump the pain of humiliation onto his dearest and most trusted friend.
The bottles and sponges were easy enough to collect, but there was no getting the water back into the bucket. He would have to refill it and then mop up the mess. Great, and this on top of cleaning Scare Floor B; now they would certainly have to stay longer.
It was when he reached for another bottle that he noticed the hand about to do the same. It was slender and elegant, fingerless, and of a lavender color with pale green stripes at the wrist.
Looking up, he saw the hand's owner helping him to pick up his things. He knew this woman. She was Monsters Inc.'s beautiful receptionist. As she had only started working here recently, he did not know much about her, not even her name, but he had gotten the impression that she was strong yet gentle, and he knew she always took the time to greet others when she passed them in the hallways.
"Lady," he said softly, putting his hand on top of hers to halt her movements, "I appreciate your help, but we would not want you to stain your dress with filthy water." Or her skin. Or any part of her, really. She was too pretty to dirty.
She looked up at his words, and her piercing turquoise eye fixed on him, as did those of the snakes on her head. "It's not like I can't wash it," she replied matter-of-factly, a hint of something steely in her voice, and she pulled her hand out of his to continue the task. For a moment, he thought his rejection had offended her, but that impression evaporated when she went on. "And I believe it's important to show support to those who have been wronged."
Of course, he had liked her already, but the way she said this, as if it was a commonly agreed on fact of the universe, solidified his opinion about her. This woman could stand her ground, and she would stand it if the need arose. "I assure you that I am capable of defending myself," he promised anyway, and bit his lip immediately afterward. It was a reflex, he knew. He was not good about receiving help, and especially not about accepting it.
"That's true," she agreed, eyeing him curiously now. "Not every janitor would stand up to a full-blown Scarer."
"This one does, ma'am," he declared and drew himself up to his full height – which, admittedly, was nothing impressive, but Sulley had told him that people tended to see his "inner size" or whatever when he did this, and that one was at least three times as high.
She chuckled at his straightforwardness, but did not let the conversation stop her from grabbing the last bottle and placing it onto his cart. When she stood up, there was an intensity in her gaze that he could not quite decipher. "My name is Celia Mae," she announced and smiled at him, clearly expecting him to reciprocate. Celia. Now that had a nice ring to it.
"Mike Wazowski," he complied with a small bow. "And it was my immense pleasure to get acquainted to you."
She gave a small nod. "I'll see you around, Michael." With that, she turned and left in the direction of the entrance hall, presumably to get back to her place at the reception desk.
He stared after her for a moment. Was he smiling? He should be feeling awful after what had happened, but somehow, the second encounter seemed to have lifted his spirits enormously. He was not even sure what it had been. Maybe it was just her mere presence, or the way she had shown her appreciation for those of lesser status, but something had stayed with him about the way she had said his name.
He had always preferred "Mike" to the bland-sounding "Michael." He even trained people to use the nickname. He thought it fit his character better. That, and there had been at least three other Michaels in his elementary school class alone.
But for some reason, it did not bother him to hear this woman call him by his given name. With her, it did not sound as if she was disregarding his wishes on the matter. It sounded more as if she thought it was a nice name.
For whatever reason.
He felt the thumping footsteps more than he heard them, and sure enough, when he turned around, he saw Sulley approaching him, the elusive mop in one hand, but his friend did not speak up until he was close enough to not have to shout. "I'm so sorry, Mike! I saw the whole thing, but I was too far away to interfere with what Boggs did, and then I didn't wanna ruin your chances."
"Chances?" Mike repeated, frowning at him. "Chances at what?"
Sulley blinked for a moment, then broke into a grin. "Oh, boy, are you innocent!" He shook his head a little, his face alight with mirth. "Anyway, forget about that, are you all right?"
Mike was still puzzling about the comment, but, oh well, Sulley had said it was not important, so whatever. "I'm fine," he promised, and he meant it.
"You want me to go and beat him up?" Sulley asked further, and it was a bit alarming to hear him sound so serious when he said it.
"You're not beating anyone up," Mike decided immediately, "especially not for my sake."
Sulley gave a shrug. "Well, just say the word. It's not like he can treat you like his personal plaything. He has no right to go and bully you!"
Mike was not entirely sure why, but he found himself smirking at the comment. "Big Guy, I know someone who used to get a kick out of showing me up." The day of the final exam came to mind, though he was not exactly blameless there, either.
Sulley scowled at him. "Showing you up, yeah. But I never injured you."
"That's true," Mike agreed readily, because it was and because he would be damned to hurt his best friend's feelings over something he was not even angry about anymore. "All I'm saying is that we've moved on from being like that. Randall will come around. He just needs to cool off."
Sulley hesitated. "And if not?" he finally asked softly, and there was a shadow in his expression, something Mike could not quite place. Was it something he had said?
"If not," he took the cue, "then I'll be quick on the comeback. I'm not just gonna let him push me around."
Sulley gave him a playful shove, but it was in an entirely different way of pushing him around. "That's what I like about you, Mike."
Mike smirked, pushing back. "Oh? What's that?"
"Figure it out by yourself," Sulley chuckled, then positioned his mop to clean up the mess Randall had made. "By how much do you reckon this is gonna throw us back?"
"Not that much," Mike guessed, joining in with his own mop. "But it's not as if we can just leave it like this." Not that he even wanted that, mind you.
"At least you don't have to do it on your own," Sulley pointed out.
And Mike could not help but to smile at him. Yeah, that was the mantra he had applied to many a thing about his life after college. Whatever came up, it was okay as long as there was someone by his side. Hardened by too many failed friendships, he had used to seek refuge in solitude, but the way Sulley had wormed his way into his life was proof that that was not the way to go.
Even if things went awry, like with Randall, there would always be new opportunities to get attached to people, whether he even wanted that or not.
All he had to do was to pay attention.