Scott Cawthon owns Purple Guy.

I own Miles.

Miles, a man who was covered in purple patches from head to toe and glowing entirely white eyes, had never once been loved. He worked at Freddy Fazbear Diner, where he was to smile and greet kids as a day watchman. He said he loved his job and the kids.

God, how he hated it.

The songs, the pizza, the children. He hated it all! The children always called him weird-looking for being covered in the purple patches and his eyes were scary. The parents would mean-mug him from across the room if he was talking to their child. He'd look up and grin maliciously back just to get them to look away.

The happy and cheerful Purple Day Watchman always scurried to the supply closet whenever a group of children bombarded him with questions and insults, that they didn't know were insults. He quickly lock himself in and try and calm himself down, sitting on the floor with his long legs half extended. He'd cut his arms and sigh as the blood trickled down onto the floor.

"When will it end?" He'd often mutter. He'd bang the back of his head against the wall repeatedly until he was dizzy. But he always had to return to work. He'd clean up what had happened, roll his sleeves down, plaster on his fake smile, and walk out.

But today, was a different day.

Miles leaned against a wall, grin stuck on his face as be watched the kids run by. Today was good so far, no questions had been asked. Not a single kid acknowledged him.

"Thank. You. Jesus. I take back some of the times I said you weren't real," he thought quietly.

His eyes went from the Prize Corner to the front entrance, where a young girl had just walked in. She wore a long-sleeved purple, same shade as him, shirt, dark blue jeans, and had purple shoes to match the shirt. Her dark blues eyes looked around with worry.

"Jesus, I'll take back more times if she doesn't come over here," Miles mumbled, looking up at the ceiling.

She spotted him and began navigated the crowd of children to get him.

"God dammit! And no I will not take that back, it's on the record," he thought as the girl finally reached him.

"Excuse me, Mister..."

She paused to read his badge. She had to stand on her tip-toes to see.

"Miles. I don't mean to bother you."

"Sure you don't kid," he thought.

"But have you seen my parents? They told me to wait outside and count to ten and when I finished counting I didn't see their car anymore."

Miles rolled his nonexistent eyes and looked down at the child, still smiling his fake smile.

"First things first, young one, what's your name?"

The girl shied away.

"Mommy and Daddy told me not to tell my name to strangers."

"Well, little girl, I'm a day watchman. It means I help people during the day. Just tell me your name and I'll try and find your parents."

"And by that I mean crash face down into the couch in the Employee Lounge," he thought.

"I-I'm Quincemortia," she whispered.

"Well, Quincemortia-"

"Please! Don't call me by my full name. Bullies say my name is weird and stupid, so I like people to call me Quince."

*Chic-chic...BANG!*

Miles felt the smallest pang of sympathy for Quince. He used to get bullied because of his skin condition. He was often called "Grape" or "Purple Boy". Many even "mistook" his name to be Violet. He let that sympathy die when he looked at her again.

"Ask a question about me, kid. I know you want to," he thought.

"Hey, mister Miles. I like the shade of purple your patches are! It matches my shirt and shoes!"

She pulled on her sleeve so it touched his arm, showing that, indeed, they were the same shade.

*Chic-chic...BANG! BANG!*

Miles felt the same feeling again, only fuzzier and warmer. He shivered slightly at how...good it felt. He wanted to hate it, but couldn't.

"Say something to offend me, kid! Anything," he pleaded in his head.

"Purple is my favorite color! So that makes you my favorite person!"

*Chic-chic... 'Crap, I'm outta bullets, be right back'*

"But what about Bonnie the Bunny? He's purple as well and a cool rabbit robot. I'm just a human."

"I think. Even I'm not sure about that," he thought.

"Yeah, he's cool and all. But I think you're cooler! Robots can be any color they want but from what I know, humans can't. So you being purple is a lot cooler than Bonnie being purple. Plus your shade is bright while Bonnie's is a little duller."

*'I found a new gun!' Chi-chi...RATATATAT!*

Miles cringed at the even warmer, even fuzzier feeling in his chest. He looked down at Quince, who was smiling up at him.

"Don't say anything else, please," he thought.

"I don't think my parents wanted me."

"The sympathy! IT BURNS," he shouted in his head.

"Don't say that, little one."

"But it's true!"

She had shouted, collecting the attention of some adults. Tears started to pour from her eyes and she threw her arms around his neck.

In a hug.

Miles was surprised at the action, but slowly wrapped his own arms around her. He had never gotten a hug before, as a kid or an adult. Quince cried into his shoulder, holding him close.

Some parents were heart-broken, others thought it was Miles' fault. But all adults watched as he sat down and awkwardly placed the crying child into his lap. She cried into his chest, arms still tight around his neck.

"They always said I was a curse and I ruined their lives! They always hurt me and called me really bad names! And-and..."

"Hey, don't cry. If they didn't want someone as cute as you, it's their fault. You seem like a really sweet girl, Quince."

"Where the hell did that come from? Who the fuck are you and why are you in my body? ...Note to self, never say that out loud," he thought.

Quince sniffled and looked up at him. She still had tears flowing down her cheeks.

"R-really?"

"M'hm. You can always believe a watchman. They'll always protect you. Like me."

"Is this...kindness? I thought that shit was just in books," Miles thought.

Quince cuddled into his chest, muttering, "Thank you, Mister Miles." Miles felt a knife go through his chest and quickly looked down to see if he had been stabbed by her.

Only to find her gently toying with his now unpinned badge.

"Then what was that feeling?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Quince."

"Aww!~," the restaurant patrons cooed.

"Don't any of you have children?!"

Quince noted how the badge looked like a golden piece of toast before pinning it back onto his shirt. She pulled on the garment after sorta-kinda pinning it on right.

"Mister Miles?"

"Hm?"

"Where am I gonna go until we find my parents?"

Miles was about to answer, when he realized he couldn't. He didn't know anyone who would take her in, the other guards having actual families, and he had no knowledge on how to care for a child. He never had to do anything at this job, just watch the damn kids trash the place.

Could she stay here? What would Mr. Cawthon say?

Miles set Quince down and stood up. He extended his hand to her, which she grabbed in an instant.

"Let's go to the game room."

"Yay!"

Miles lead the young girl to the arcade and put tokens that he found (literally, they're everywhere) into the claw machine. He rested his hand on the joystick.

"Which one would you like?"

Quince surveyed all the toys and plushies before pointing to a purple wolf plush. It was the only thing not a rabbit, chicken, bear, or fox.

"How'd that get in there? Nevermind."

Miles was a master of the claw machine. He eyed his prize and carefully maneuver the claw toward. His thumb hovered over the drop button, waiting until he was certain.

*click*

The claw dropped and snagged the lilac wolf. Quinces eyes widened with cheer as Miles leaned down to retrieve the little item.

"One wolf for one girl."

Miles went to pull his hand out, only to find it stuck.

"Seriously?"

"What? What happened?"

"My hand is stuck again."

Quince held back a large laugh. She looked over and saw that, indeed, his arm was stuck inside the dropbox. He shook his head and shrugged, smiling at her.

"Go get Mr. Cawthon. He can get me free."

"Whyyyyy? This is funny!"

"You'll get your toy faster."

"Alright, where's is he?"

"Go down the hall and the first door on your left."

Quince nodded and ran off. Miles was left to think.

"Could I adopt her? How long would that take?"

Miles pulled out his phone (it's a flip so chill) and typed "how long does adopting a child take" into the Internet.

Some of the answers were stupid, such as "TOO DAMN LONG" and "ask them, dumb ass", but the most of them said five days. He continued to scroll, finally finding a sensible answer.

"Well there's choosing, which takes a while. Then there's the hospital records. And finally signing them as your own, so about five days if your one of the lucky ones."

Miles looked up from his phone and a thought entered his mind.

"It's near Christmas. Quince is a good kid, while her parents aren't. If Mr. Cawthon agrees to let her stay, I could surprise her on Christmas with the papers!"

He mumbled something...

"I could be a father..."

Miles thought about having snowball fights with her, building snowmen and drinking hot chocolate afterwards. Doing all the things he never got to do as a kid, with a kid of his own.

"There you are, Miles!"

*pop*

Miles shook his head and looked up, seeing Mr. Cawthon and Quince. He waved at her and she waved back, but he slowly put his hand down when he looked up at his boss again.

"Hi, Mr. Cawthon. As you can see, an adult has gotten his hand stuck in the claw machine again."

Quince laughed a bit while Mr. Cawthon shook his head. He grabbed Miles' arm and yanked hard, pulling out the appendage and the toy.

The two rolled backwards, landing with Cawthon on top and Miles on bottom. Quince fell over laughing at the small dust of blush on Cawthon's cheeks as Miles put on bedroom eyes.

"I knew I was sexy, but could you not try and rip my shirt off?"

Cawthon growled and stood up, helping up the purple guy as well. Miles felt his hand loose it's grip on the plush and turned around to see Quince snuggling it.

"Thank you, Mister Miles!"

"Of course, Quince."

Miles picked up Quince and held her on his side, looking at Cawthon.

"About Quince..."

"Yes, Miles?"

"Can she stay here for five days?"

"Sure, why not?"

"But, Mr. Cawthooooon! I-wait, what?"

"She can stay, as long as she doesn't trash the place or tell anyone."

Miles spun Quince around, much to her delight. She hugged him and then reached to hug Cawthon. The man smiled and walked away.

"Guess you have to spend five nights at Freddy's, huh?"

"I guess so!"

The two laughed and spent the rest of the day together. Miles was beaten by Quince in some of the games, which confused him to no end. He bought them a pizza of her choice, asking for one of Chica's instead of the chefs.

Soon, night rolled around and everyone left. Mike and Jeremy came in, Mike having the I-can-deal-with-a-little-more-bullshit-than-yesterday face on. Jeremy was smiling as he walked in, smiling at Quince actually.

Cawthon walked passed the three men.

"Jeremy, Mike, you'll be working the night shift with Miles."

All of their eyes went wide as the door locked.

"WHAT?!"