A/N: Hello, hello! Sorry for the wait, you can blame exams for the huge gap in chapters. A word of warning before you read this, I don't have a foot fetish.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

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Sooner than he liked, Michael was done with his shower. He wrapped a clean towel around his waist, and he was about to step out when he remembered the robot lingering outside. 'Fuck.'

He had no desire for Ennard to see his dick, so he pounded on the door to get his attention. "Oi, you!" he hollered through the door. "I need to get dressed out there, so I need you to stay out of my room until I'm done!"

A pregnant pause followed his words, then a sullen "no".

"Wha- No?! What do you mean, no?!" he asked angrily. First that thing barged into his private time and saw his nude body, then it refused to do what he asked?

"You were rude to me just now. Why should I have to listen to you?" it asked huffily.

'Oh my god. Someone, please end my misery.' "Please, just stay out for a few minutes. You can come back in after I'm done!" he said, a tint of desperation creeping into his voice.

"No."

No, please, this can't be happening to him. He was stuck in the bathroom after a freezing cold bath, and he had left his clothes on the bed. That bastard also refused to scram for even a second. Clearly, someone up above was out to get him.

'C'mon, think! There has to be some way to solve this problem!' Why won't it leave his room? Did it want something? What... Oh yeah, it mentioned something about cleaning feet, didn't it? Come to think of it, it was walking through that dirty alleyway- Wait, shit. How long had it been walking in his floor?

No, that wasn't important now. He had to get it out of his room first.

He knocked on the door again. "Hey, Ba- Ennard," he hastily corrected. "I need you to listen to me for a bit."

"Why should I?" it asked coldly.

"You wanted me to clean you off, right? I'll do it for you if you leave me alone for a few minutes." Hopefully, it took the deal and left him alone.

Michael could hear a low hum. It seemed to do that a lot, now that he had time to think about it. Later, he'd have to find out what it meant. Wait, no, what was he thinking? "Have you forgotten? You are going to do that for me, whether I go out of the room or not. Anything else you want to offer me?" it asked sarcastically. "A bed of my own? Perhaps a warm meal at the table?"

"What about - Achoo! - a repair?"

There was a pause. "... A repair? You want to repair us?" it asked softly.

Michael relaxed by a fraction. Was Ennard considering it? "Um... Are you alright with that?"

"..."

A horrible thought then struck him. What if Ennard didn't want it? Even worse, what if it refused to let him out? His entire body was shivering like mad, knees knocking together, and he was pretty damn sure he'll be catching a cold by the end of the day. Oh God, did he have to fight it off with just a towel around his waist?

Actually, it wouldn't be much of a fight than murder, really.

"... Very well. I accept your terms." He heard it slink away from the door, and its footsteps recede into the distant.

Michael slowly let out a breath. Unlocking the door, he inched it open and peered outside. There was no sign of Ennard. "Thank God," he muttered, fully pushing the door open and stepping outside. He hastily pulled out a worn shirt and jeans, pulling them on before that thing got curious and peeked in.

Once he was done, the sound of a creaking door reached his ears. The thing's white mask was barely visible around the door. "Are you finished?" it asked with a bite of impatience in its voice.

'It's been barely two minutes.'

"Come on, come on, get in here before you dirty the floor more," he grumbled, grabbing it by its hand. He pulled the reluctant robot into the bathroom and forcefully pushed it into the lid of the toilet.

Of course, that was when everything went wrong. It squawked in protest, limbs flailing erratically as it tried to pull away from him. This wasn't any behaviour he had seen from it before, why was it freaking out so much?! He was forced to back up into the wall and away from the lashing cables, screaming, "Hey, stop that! Calm down, I'm just trying to help y- Ow!"

His head snapped to the side as an errant cable whipped him across his face. Stars burst in his vision as a welt instantly formed on his right cheek, and a metallic taste flooded his mouth. 'Oh, it hurts so bloody much.'

After he was sure he wasn't going to collapse, the initial burn started to fade away, and he pushed himself up unsteadily. His skull was still rattling from the impact of the heavy blow, and a quick probe in his mouth revealed that the inside of his cheek had been cut. He could barely see through his heavily watering eye. Michael gingerly poked his cheek, and a brief flare of pain greeted him.

Once the shock of the attack had worn off, fury started to pulse in his chest. "What was that about, you dipshit?!" he shrieked. "I want to help you, and you give me an injury in return? What the FUCK?!"

The thing was staring at him impassively, it's cables lying still and limp. "Don't touch me," it said in a pompous sort of voice, raising a hand to brush off imaginary dust. "You will damage us further if you handle us so roughly."

"Damage. You don't want me to damage you."

Ennard nodded with the air of someone who had bested another in an arguement.

Michael could feel his blood pressure hitting the roof. His fingers were twitching, they were just itching to wrap themselves around that bastard's throat, if not for the fact that strangling it wouldn't make matters better. Not to mention that it didn't even need to breathe. He was barely able to stay on his feet as it was.

"Then... Then you'll have to wait a little longer," he mumbled through the pain. "I need to get some ice to bring the swelling down, no thanks to you."

With one hand hovering over his injury, Michael started walking out of the bathroom...then paused when he heard an extra set of footsteps behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to see Ennard had gotten up and was following him. "What are you doing? I need you to stay there," he said, pointing at the toilet seat.

Its eye narrowed at him. "I want to keep an eye on you, before you get any idea about...something else," it said cryptically, and it took one step closer to him for emphasis.

What the hell? It wanted to keep an eye on him, because he might try something against it? Talk about hypocritical paranoia. Ennard was the one packed with near lethal strength and cables that could break his bones in an instant, but nooo, it was worried about him.

Unfortunately, one good look at its mask told him that unless he wanted a black eye next, he had better keep his legs moving. So, it was with extreme reluctance that he turned around and continued his trek to the kitchen, the metallic freak only feets away from him. Once in the kitchen, Michael opened the fridge and began digging around for an ice pack.

Meanwhile, Ennard stood behind him and started making a fuss. "I don't know why you find it necessary to treat that little scrape. I've seen other humans suffer injuries worse than yours and not cry over them like a toddler, I don't see why you should waste time treat-"

An ice pack in hand, he withdrew his head and slammed the fridge shut. "Mute it," he snarled. "This isn't going to magically go away on its own, I have to ice it to bring down the swelling."

It tilted its head. "But it is not bleeding at all. I don't understand why you are so worked up about this," it said blankly.

Oh, for fuck's sake. If anything was going to bleed, it was going to be his ears from how much it was talking. "Hey. Hey hey hey." He stared at the thing straight in its eye, his jaw set. "Now, you listen to me, you piece of scrap metal. You don't have any nerves, so I wouldn't expect you to understand, but this fucking hurts. There's no blood, but it hurts. Actually, I'm really lucky that there isn't any blood, do you know how hard you hit me? And if I don't deal with it now, I'm going to be feeling this for the rest of the week," he said. "So if you want me to do a good job, let me ice this."

Without waiting for its response, he wandered off to the upper cupboards in search for cloth strips. He soon found a few relatively clean strips and wrapped the ice pack in one, and he held it against his face while attempting to tie a second strip around his head.

Unfortunately, it proved more difficult than he had anticipated. The pain flared sharply everytime he tugged at the cloth strip, which made him loosen his grip a little, which made the ice pack slip away by a bit, which made the pain intensify, which made him lose his grip... Well, it was a vicious cycle to say the least.

His fingers were fumbling with tying a knot in the strip when another set of hands neatly plucked it from him and tied it from him. He turned, giving the motionless robot an odd look. "Did you...?"

"Don't take it the wrong way," it spat out, shoulders trembling. "You were taking too long, so I just did it for you. Don't give me that look!"

"... Right." Michael wasn't in the mood to have a back-and-forth debate with it. All he wanted was to just get this over with. Plus, he wasn't going to risk getting hit again. Instead, he grabbed a nearby rag and headed back to the bathroom with the robot at his heels.

Entering the bathroom, he was about to push it back down when the earlier incident flashed before his eyes. His hand stilled, and Ennard's eye narrowed at him in suspicion. "Uh... C-could you sit down? It'll be easier on my back if I can clean you that way."

It hummed, and it carefully sat itself on the toilet lid. So far, so good. "Okay, and... Ah crap."

In order to wash Ennard, he'll have to...touch it. And if he touched it again...

He must have been standing in silence for too long, for Ennard made a sharp noise to get his attention. "What are you planning, human?" it asked.

"It's just... I need to hold on to you." He could see its frame stiffen by a fraction, and he quickly held up his hands in defense. "Before you say anything, I am not going to do anything to you, I swear that on my life. I don't plan to do anything to you, I don't want to do anything to you! Does it look like I want to do anything to you?" he demanded, gesturing at the ice pack.

It continued to stare at him apprehensively.

Michael sighed. "Look, you... Ennard. Please listen to me for a sec. I am your former technician." He pointed at himself. "I've fixed you up before, this isn't going to be any different. You remember, right? I've never done anything funny to you before. Heck, if anything, I should be scared of you."

"... I suppose that's...true," it said with some reluctance. His words seemed to have struck a chord in it, as he could see some of the tension deep out of its body. It was still too wound up for his liking though. With slow motions as not to startle it, Michael flipped a pail over and seated himself on it after soaking the rag. He gingerly took its leg, and miraculously, it allowed him to lift it onto his lap with minimal resistance. Even with a mask, Michael could have sworn that it was sulking over its "treatment".

He then got a good look at its foot. 'Ugh!' He thought that Ennard had been making a fuss over nothing, but its foot was absolutely caked in filth! The bits of garbage and stains were nauseating to look at, and he would have thrown up if he had eaten a decent meal in, oh, the past five hours or so. That thing had been walking around with that shit on its feet?

Well, it looked like someone wasn't sleeping tonight.

He sighed again. No use whining about it now, he supposed. He raised the rag and began to gently wipe down its foot, giving no notice to its renewed squawking and squirming. As long as it wasn't trying to kill him, then he was good. For all its posturing from before, it was acting like a pet that didn't want its bath...

Ah. Now that he thought about it, this was probably the first time it has encountered water, right? Unless Ennard tried to steal the employees' bottles. And, if Baby hadn't been lying to him about it, it was comprised entirely of the circus animatronics' insides. No wonder it was making so much noise; the mere idea of a foreign liquid being forcefully applied to his innards made him squirm a bit. Not that he gave a crap about Ennard.

Ennard let out a particularly screechy squeal when the rag accidentally slipped between wires, writhing around in exaggerated discomfort. He had to practically use his entire body to pin down the struggling limb. "Stop! Stop that! You're going to damage us!" it growled. The cables trembled with suppressed agitation.

"Wha- No, no!" Both hands shot up in a placating manner, while discreetly covering his injured cheek. "Calm down, a little water's not going to hurt you!"

Its eye narrowed for the umpteen time. "That is what you say, but you are taking a long time to clean," it said with crossed arms.

"Then what do you want me to do? I can't just hose you down, you'll short-circuit, you moron!" Michael snapped, briefly looking up to shoot it a glare. "It's either my way or spending the rest of your day with crap on your feet."

'Either way, I have to mop the place later.'

Ennard huffed and kicked lightly at his shin, but now Michael felt that resistance seep away. He shakily pushed himself up. 'Whew, crisis averted.'

Both of them lapses into silence again. Ennard was still emitting low whines whenever the rag accidentally slipped under its wires, but it didn't actively try to rip its leg away. He didn't say this out loud, but Michael took care to wash it as gently as possible. Only because the alternative would be too much for him to handle.

Soon, after many rinses of the rag, its foot was relatively clean. Not completely devoid of dirt, but he was sure it wouldn't be making a mess on his floor anymore. "Okay, give me your other foot."

Ennard switched legs obediently, and with one hand gripping it by the ankle, Michael began scrubbing away at the dirt. But his hand was starting to get sluggish... No, his entire body felt leaden and heavy, like a pile of bricks was suddenly dumped on his back. He fought down a yawn. 'This isn't good. I'm going to drop at this rate...'

"Human?"

The one word broke him out of his stupor. "I'm cleaning, I'm cleaning... Um, why are you looking at me like that?" It was staring at him again, but with no malice behind its eye. Did he do something wrong?

"Can I ask you something?"

"Uh, sure?"

"What's this?" Then, to his everlasting horror, Ennard reaches out and very calmly patted his crotch.

The feeling of someone touching his genitalia, even through his pants, was weird. Having an animatronic do it is weirder. Having it ask about his genitalia was enough to make him wish that he was in the Scooping Room. "It's... It's...! You don't have to know!" he yelped. He slapped away the probing hand and jumped away from it, so fast that his head bashed against the shower head.

Rubbing the afflicted area, his voice shook as he asked, "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"Because your face turns so red when I last it," it said slyly. "You're doing it again! Oh, if only you could see how stupid you look now."

"Keep your trap shut," he grumbled, seating himself on the pail again. "You don't need to know about it. And don't touch me like that EVER again!"

"Why not?" it asked. Ennard was definitely making fun of him now; its chin was resting on an open palm, its coy, half-lidded stare drilling a hole into his dignity. The fire in his face burned fiercer.

Thankfully, the embarrassment kicked his brain into overdrive and blurted out, "Because it's not socially acceptable!"

The exclamation made Ennard lost its playful demeanour, in return for a look far too curious for his liking. "Socially acceptable? Do you mean you are not allowed to show it to other humans?" it asked with a grin.

It'd be less painful if Ennard had just strangled him. "Yes," he mumbled.

"Why? It's just more flesh. I don't see what's the big fuss over it."

Someone kill him now.

"It's... It's just a human thing, okay?!" he yelled. "We don't flash ourselves whenever we want to! It's just inappropriate. And people don't touch it whenever they want to," he added, with a pointed look aimed at it.

Ennard tilted its head from side to side, bringing an image of a huge, metal puppy to his mind. "Hmmm... Is that so?" It hummed, then dropped its gaze. "Very well, I won't talk about it anymore. Are you going to finish cleaning me?"

Michael felt like he got whiplash from the thing's willingness to drop the subject. He was too tired to give a crap at this point, though. How did the saying go? "Don't look in the horse for a gift's mouth", or something like that. Whatever.

The thing already took the initiative to prop its leg into his lap, and it was now waiting patiently with crossed arms. Mustering his remaining strength, he began cleaning again. For the rest of the clean-up, neither said a word more about his dick, for which he was eternally grateful for. Stupid robot, bringing up such a sensitive topic. It even admitted that it was intentional!

At long last, both of its feet were squeaky clean. Michael wasted no time jumping to his feet and stretching his sore back, flexing his cramped fingers. "Man, the things I do for you," he said to bemused robot. "But now that I'm done with your feet, I think it's time to lay down some house rules."

"Rules?" The robot seemed offended by the mere word. "Why?"

"Because this is my house, and these are my rules. You're going to follow them, whether you like it or not," he said firmly, seating himself back down after washing his hands. "I lost my job because of you, so I can't have you wrecking anything in the house before I find another one."

It huffed, but Michael ignored it. "First, you are not allowed in the bathroom when I'm in here, got it? I don't want a repeat of...today?" His cheeks warmed again, but he plowed on regardless. "There's no reason for you to be in here, anyway."

Once again, Ennard somehow pouted at him. "But I want to come in here," it whined. It actually whined. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought that he was taking care of a toddler. "There's so many things I wanna see!"

"Yeah, well, if you break anything, it's going to come out of my own pocket. So, you're not allowed to come in here," he said, wagging his finger at it. "Also, you are not allowed to touch anything in this house without my permission. Not the TV, but the fridge, nothing!"

The thing tried to argue, but he cut it off. "No! That stupid place barely gave me any money as it is, I'm not having you throw it down the drain just like that!"

"... Hmph. Fine," it muttered.

Michael didn't like it. It was being too agreeable with him. Oh, sure, it was nodding along and saying "fine" now, but its mask conveyed about as much sincerity as a block of butter. Who was he to say that the thing wouldn't crush his throat in his sleep? Maybe he should start carrying a bat around...

Ha. Ha. What had his life come to?

No, he didn't have anymore energy left to deal with this. Simply no more energy left to deal with this bullshit in this hour of the day. Once he got himself enough sleep, then he can properly think about this.

"Hey, you. When I'm sleeping, you stay in the living room. Here, I'll turn on the TV for you." He crossed over to the living room, picking up the chipped remote from the couch and switched on the TV. The familiar tune of "Love's The Only Way" filled the room, and its eye focused on the screen. "Just... Stay here, don't make any noise, and don't make a mess."

With that said, Michael returned to his room and practically collapsed onto the bed, his eyes closing the moment his head hit the feather-soft pillow. Oh, if only he knew just what he had unleashed in his house...

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A/N: Thank you for reading this! I hope that this chapter didn't make you feel uncomfortable, I swear the next one will be better.