Words in Chapter: 1800
Written: March 22, 2015
Current Characters: Mike, Jeremy, Bonnie, Chica, Freddy, Foxy, Goldie, ?, Mangle
Warnings: Humanized. Mild violence.
AN: I apologize.

Bonnie and Chica walked in around the same time Mike did, greeting the man warmly and asking how he was. He just shrugged and followed them to the back, listening as they chatted about a customer from a few days ago that had won over their hearts.

They stopped outside the change room on surprise as they heard Freddy's raised voice through the closed door. They looked to each other with concern, but none found the courage to step into the room, especially when they heard a yelp. They held their breath, waiting for the next noise, the next growled threat or sound of pain. Mike felt sick.

A few moments later Freddy hissed, "Get out of here. If I see you again I'll gut you."

They stepped back as one when the door swung open. They stared. Foxy looked at them with wide eyes before tugging his jacket tighter around himself as he sprinted past them. Mike didn't hesitate to run after the redhead while Chica and Bonnie went to get Freddy's side of the story.

Mike managed to get close enough to grab a fistful of Foxy's coat once they had reached the sidewalk since the entertainer had been forced to slow down, abruptly bringing the man to a halt. He didn't let him struggle out of his grasp, instead pulling the slighter man to his chest and pinning him there in what would appear to the others on the sidewalk as a tight hug from behind. He could feel Foxy tremble.

"What happened?" he asked gently as the redhead coughed a few times, and from what little Mike could see, there was an angry red mark in the shape of a large hand on his neck. He dragged him into a little cafe next door to the restaurant and bought him a bottle of water once he was seated at one of the tables. Foxy greedily gulped the water before speaking.

"Freddy got some news yesterday."

"So? Why was this news bad enough to make him want to kill you?"

"Goldie's pregnant," he mumbled. His gaze dropped to the table so he missed Mike's expression but he definitely caught the little gasp. "I don't... I don't think I'm even the father, Mike... I don't remember what happened that night, but I just feel like the father's... someone else."

"What are you going to do?" Mike asked softly. Foxy didn't have an answer. He rolled the bottle between his palms and listened to the plastic crackle. The water splashed up the sides, spraying his hands with tiny droplets that slid down the backs before pooling on the table's wooden surface. He still felt the burn of Freddy's hand crushing his throat, as his airways closed and Freddy leaned in so close that he could smell the larger man's musky aftershave, with fire in his cerulean eyes that made him want to cower in fear just to be granted mercy. He started to shake all over again. He couldn't breathe, his vision was blurring, he could hardly hear Mike's concerned voice over the blood rushing in his ears, his throat ached-

Mike grabbed his shoulders and shook him just slightly, making a yellow eye snap up from the crushed water bottle half twisted in one pale hand. Water was everywhere now, and the other customers were staring at them and whispering behind the cups they held to their mouths and pretended to sip from.

Foxy felt his face burn. He dipped his head to hide his face from the judging looks. Mike seemed unaffected, and he was jealous. All he could feel were the eyes on him. He could imagine them all gossiping in their airy tones about the crazy man they saw in the coffee shop that morning. The only one in the entire store that wasn't acting as if he was completely insane was the server.

"Breathe, it's alright. Don't look at them," Mike soothed, shifting to sit closer to Foxy. He eased the water bottle from the shaking hand and left it on the table out of reach. He waited for the man to calm down, rubbing a thumb in circles against the shoulder blade he could feel beneath the redhead's clothing. "Are you alright now?"

Foxy nodded, honestly able to believe it now. His thoughts were much clearer, and he could breathe again. His throat continued to ache, but that was tolerable. He rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, lad..."

"You're stressed. I get it. It's totally natural," Mike said with a shrug. He got up and purchased a couple muffins. He took Foxy from the cafe and out onto the fairly empty street. "Let's go for a walk."

"You've got work," Foxy protested immediately. He was ignored, and Mike grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the restaurant. He stumbled after the smaller man. He didn't bother to fight it further, and just followed Mike toward the bus stop.

The bus lumbered into sight before long, screaming to a halt at the stop and opening its door with a sigh. They paid their fare and moved to the very back, sitting on the seats over one of its wheel wells. Foxy took the seat with the least room, curling his legs so his knees were against his chest.

They went past Mike's house around ten minutes later. They hadn't said a word to each other, for Mike's assumption that Foxy preferred quiet seemed to be right. The tall man contented himself looking out the window while his companion listened for the name of their stop. His one eye seemed to droop lazily as he watched the scenery rush by. With how comfortable he looked, curled up there in the bus stop seat, Mike almost felt bad when he forced them to get off the bus. But Foxy didn't complain.

"What does the great Foxy like to do in his spare time?" Mike asked, making the redhead lift an eyebrow. He grinned to try to get the man to respond. He was starting to feel nervousness pricking at his confidence. He was skipping work without notice with a man prone to snapping without great provocation. And while he wasn't as nervous as he'd once been at the idea of being alone with the entertainer, the incident in the cafe had shaken him up, since he hadn't expected Foxy to react like that. He knew that Freddy had attacked him, and that alone would be enough to upset a person, but for Foxy to simply break down like that in public scared him more than a little. What if it happened again? Would he know what to do to help? Would it stop them from spending time together in the future? The idea of not seeing Foxy again outside of work made something in his chest clench. The redhead was his friend, he wouldn't want something like a panic attack to ruin what fragile progress they were making.

"I don't have much free time, Mike… But I like to read, and sometimes I'll draw with Margaret... " Foxy mumbled. It was enough of answer that Mike could accept it, changing directions to head toward the mall across the street. He scanned the stores until he found the one he was looking for. He heard Foxy make a complaint, a protest, an argument, a pleading attempt to get Mike to change his mind, but he ignored him. He wiped his boots on the mat just inside the door while Foxy muttered to himself outside for a little while before joining him inside.

He grabbed the entertainer by the arm and guided him to the racks of non-fiction books. He browsed the fat spines, feeling Foxy's gaze on his face. He didn't let go of Foxy's arm lest the man leave without him and not return.

"You must love complaining," he joked. He felt Foxy's bony elbow connect with his ribcage suddenly and he laughed at the playful glare he received when he looked in the redhead's direction. He returned to the books and ran a finger over the plastic covers. "You do it all the time."

"Someone has to, or everything would be horribly… happy," Foxy replied. "What are you looking for?"

Mike kept looking on his own until he found the book, pulling it out with a triumphant grin. He showed it to Foxy with a flourish, watching the man's face as he read the title.

"A gift for Marg?"

"You're not bringing that into my house," Foxy growled. Mike just smirked and headed to the counter, making sure to hold the book on Egyptian pharaohs against his chest so the other couldn't pry it from his hands. And Foxy did try to get it; he grabbed at it a few times before Mike moved into the line of sight of the other customers. It was then that the entertainer kept his hands to himself. He stomped off, grumbling something about meeting him at the front doors.

Mike used that time apart to search for a few other books for his own collection. He picked up three. When he had purchased them, he joined Foxy.

"I have something for you," he said while handing over the bag for Mangle. He patted down his pockets, finding the metal tin after a bit of searching. He gave it to the entertainer a little shyly, worried about how Foxy would react to the money the decorative box held. The tips had started to stack up, so he figured it was time to surprise the man by handing over what money he'd saved of his own tips.

He chewed his lip as he watched Foxy undo the latch and open the top. The yellow eye widened in surprise then lifted to meet the nervous blue pools of the younger male. Mike couldn't read the look Foxy wore.

"I… I can't take this…"

"Yes, you can. Remember what I told you? You've got fans, Foxy. I've been holding onto what people have been giving me for you," he lied smoothly, not glancing away for a moment. He wanted the man to take it. He wanted to help, and he knew that as much as Foxy was prideful, as much as he was determined to do things on his own, Foxy wanted to accept the help he was being offered. "Go on, take it. It's a gift."

"There's too much here." Foxy dumped most of the change into his hand and offered the money back to the server.

"If I take it…then you have to promise to go out and do something with me. Margaret too, if you want. I just want to get to be your friend, Foxy. What do you say?"

Foxy pressed the money into Mike's hand with a nod.