Pass the Microphone
But a Number
I don't own Five Nights at Freddy's. Scott Cawthon does.
Summary: "Thank you so much for inspiring me to push myself to be a better person." - A one-shot series dedicated to Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt).
One-shot Summary: As much as he loved Mike, this one little blip in their relationship just wouldn't leave his mind.
Pairings: Just Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike)
Warnings: swearing, sexual themes/allusions to male/male sex, very brief and very light allusions to unsavoury topics.
By the by, you can request things if you'd like. In fact, I encourage it. No way am I gonna be able to think of all these one-shots on my own.
…
It was before they'd even agreed to start a relationship that the thought had first entered Phone Guy's head. If he was honest, it was the reason he hadn't confessed his feelings to Mike sooner. That constant reminder in the back of his head, constant belittling and constant self-loathing.
He's so young…
Eleven years. They were apart by eleven years. That was…disgusting, wasn't it? Mike being so young and Phone Guy…not. Twenty-four and thirty-five. Disgusting. It was a good thing nobody knew they were in a relationship (save for Fritz and Jeremy, of course). Not only because they'd be horribly judged for being two men, but because of their age difference. Phone Guy already felt enough shame about having such feelings for someone much younger than him; everybody else's agreement would only make it worse.
They'd discussed it very little; a quick comment or two just before the agreement to give dating a try. Mike had told him it didn't matter; he didn't care how old Phone Guy was, neither should Phone Guy. The age difference hadn't mattered to him; he was legal, he'd "done more illegal shit than dating an older man" and he could do whatever he wanted. "I've got an aunt and uncle who're eighteen years apart, Phones! What do I care about eleven years?" was what he'd said in response to Phone Guy's worries. That had soothed the blond very little. The Schmidt family were very different than the Cawthons or anybody else Phone Guy had heard of, for that matter. Phone Guy had been raised entirely differently to Mike too, they'd had much different childhoods and teenage years. Mike had spent most of his behind bars or in a cop car; Phone Guy had spent his with his nose buried in books and constantly having his mother tell him what was 'proper' and 'normal' for a boy of his age. As if she'd know.
The whole age difference issue - as it was, in Phone Guy's opinion - wasn't brought up again until another stage in their relationship. They'd been together for a good couple of months at the time. Everything was fine; the emotional bond was there, as it typically was between any two people who had gotten out of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza alive and had actually helped each other survive. That was something special, so it was only expected that the two wouldn't tire of each other so easily. It'd still been a shock, though, when Mike had started acting strangely around him and, after much gentle coaxing from the older man, confessed what had been bothering him. He was attracted to Phone Guy; not just emotionally, though. Physically. He wanted to have sex. He thought Phone Guy, however, didn't want to. The blond had admitted pretty early on to having an intimacy problem for much of his life, explaining that his marriage with Diane had never been too physical, and that he didn't want to get Mike's hopes up. The younger male's worry had been perfectly justified in that sense and Phone Guy had suddenly felt so awkward when the blushing male had confessed to it, but it hadn't been anything horrible. It was natural, actually, Mike wanting to sleep with him. He was young, sex drive still pretty high. Phone Guy had to admit, the thought of such physical activities with Mike had crossed his mind once or twice, though he'd quickly shoved them aside like nothing had ever happened.
Because Mike was so young.
Good God, it was bad enough he was dating the man, kissing him and hugging him close, but sleeping with him? God, the public would have his head. Not that they would know about it, but, hey. The panic was there.
Phone Guy expressed it in that one conversation they had together on the subject and Mike once again went on about how it didn't matter. Everything was perfectly legal; Mike was over the age of consent, nobody even knew they were together, he wanted this. Schmidt had put up a pretty good argument, actually, but that didn't entirely calm Phone Guy's qualms. It had, however, calmed them enough to convince him to go through with it.
And how.
It'd been satisfying and pleasurable and had made Phone Guy feel more loved than he ever had, even if it was incredibly awkward (neither had ever been with a man before) and Mike had panicked halfway through about ruining everything and being too rough. Regardless, it'd been nice, though - underneath that warm, fuzzy feeling he'd gotten from being so loved by Mike Schmidt - he'd still worried about what they'd done. Thirty-five years old and there he was, fucking a twenty-four year old.
Jesus. That's what he needed. Jesus.
Since then, Phone Guy kept the biting worry in the back of his head, letting his relationship with Mike go on like nothing was wrong. Mike was a lovely boyfriend; he was considerate and gentle and loving. He put Phone Guy first, always. That hadn't changed from their friendship-only days, but it somehow felt different to be put first by a boyfriend rather than just a mate. He wouldn't change a thing about Mike. Would change a thing about himself, though.
It was always after they made love that the creeping concern came shifting back to him the most and, this night, it hit particularly hard. Phone Guy lay there, staring up at the ceiling, beige blanket draped over his naked frame. Mike lay next to him, asleep yet breathing still a little laboured. He really wore him out tonight, it seemed. The very thought suddenly made him feel bad. For God's sake - eleven years. He was laying here naked with a twenty-four year old man. He'd had sex with a twenty-four year old man. Phone Guy gulped, eyes shifting away from the ceiling to look at the wall, further away from the direction his lover lay in. How shameful this was, to engage in such activities with someone so much younger than him, let alone to actually want to engage in such activities. He loved having Mike so close to him like this - disgusting. God, how gross he was. Thirty-five, a previously married man, a father. Here he was, with a man eleven years younger than him. Phone Guy squeezed the blanket with one fist at the mere thought, then peeked at Mike a little. H-He…He was eighteen when Cindy was born…
Oh, God, that was disgusting, wasn't it?
Phone Guy bit his lip. Mike had been eighteen when Phone Guy had still been married and his baby girl had been born. Jesus Christ. The blond's brow furrowed. S-So…last year, he was twenty-three…and I was thirty-four…a-and the year b-before that, he was twenty-two a-and I was thirty-three…a-and before that…
After a moment of letting that thought trail off into silence, Phone Guy gently lifted the blanket from himself, making sure not to jostle the bed too much and wake his Mike up (oh, God, don't call him that anymore). Locating his boxers quickly, he slipped them on and wandered over to the desk nearby (recently bought; Mike's idea). He sat down on the chair and opened his drawer slowly, eyes on Mike the whole time, then took out a sheet of paper and a pen. One last glance at Mike over his shoulder and he turned around to get to work. Biting his lip almost painfully, he started writing on the paper, pen shaking lightly in his grasp and making his usually neat handwriting a little messy.
A line drawn down the middle to split the page into two columns.
On one column of the paper, he wrote When he was:
On the other, he wrote I was:
Then he got to work figuring this out.
23 - 34
22 - 33
21 - 32
20 - 31
19 - 30
He had to pause there. Oh, God, look at it. Look at the difference. He ran a hand down his face and peeked out between his fingers, as though the numbers would magically change themselves once he'd hidden his face. Nope. Still the same. He went on.
18 - 29
17 - 28
16 - 27
15 - 26
14 - 25
13 - 24
12 - 23
11 - 22
10 - 21
9 - 20
Oh, fucking hell, look. He covered his mouth with his left hand and continued on.
8 - 19
7 - 18
6 - 17
5 - 16
4 - 15
3 - 14
2 - 13
1 - 12
0 - 11
There, he stopped. Not only because Mike's years were officially over with, but because he couldn't take it anymore. Phone Guy threw the pen down, suddenly not thinking of the sleeping man behind him, and covered his face with his hands, elbows on the table. This was disgusting. This was really disgusting. Mike had been a little kid when Phone Guy had been in college. For God's sake - fucking look at it! He was absolutely disgusting. How could he have feelings for someone who had barely been able to form a good conversational topic while he had been off following his dreams and acquiring a good education? Phone Guy squeezed his eyes shut. He was disgusting. He was really, really disgusting.
It wasn't just the past that had ever bothered him, though. It was the future too. What would happen when they were older? What would happen when Phone Guy actually started to show his years on his face, in his hair and on his body? When the grey hairs would start coming in, when he couldn't move as quickly as he could now, when the smallest of activities made him want to lay down and rest, when gravity would grab at the skin on his face? Mike would still have all that. He'd still have his soft, brown hair and his working joints and his energy (oh, his energy) and his clear skin. He'd still be able to run around and fight like he did nowadays. Oh - what would happen when Phone Guy's memory and things started to go too? That happened with old age, didn't it? Well, Phone Guy was the older one here - it would happen to him first. How ever would Mike put up with all that? Going everywhere with someone who couldn't keep up? Someone who would have to be reminded of the littlest of things? Someone who simply wasn't as active nor handsome as they used to be? He'd hate it. Mike would hate that. Mike would hate him. Mike wouldn't want him anymore. He wouldn't be the Phone Guy Mike knew now, so he wouldn't want him anymore. He'd break up with him the second his blond locks got invaded by grey - Phone Guy could see it now. His Mike would leave him for someone younger, someone closer to his age. Someone who could keep up; make him happy, inside and out.
Both hands came up to cover his mouth as he felt tears sting the backs of his eyes. Mike would grow tired of him. He wouldn't have Mike around anymore. Mike Schmidt, his wonderful, special Mike Schmidt, wouldn't want to be with him. It was bad enough that Phone Guy was disgusting in his want and, quite frankly, need for Mike to be around, but this too? It was too much. A part of him almost wanted to break the relationship off now before it got worse; a part of him had wanted to do that since the relationship had started. But, no, no, no - he couldn't. He loved Mike. More than he'd loved anyone else in such a manner; more than - and he felt guilty admitting it - Diane. He simply couldn't bring himself to do it. This had opened his eyes a little, the realisation that he would only get older and less attractive, while Mike would be perfectly fine.
Shakily, he picked up his pen again and flipped the page over, drawing another line to make two more columns.
On one, When he'll be:
On the other, I'll be:
Here we go.
25 - 36
26 - 37
27 - 38
28 - 39
29 - 40
Oh, fucking hell. That one made a lump form in his throat. Those worried and panicked tears made it passed the backs of his eyes and to the fronts. What would people say? They couldn't keep their relationship a secret forever.
30 - 41
31 - 42
32 - 43
33 - 44
34 - 45
35 - 46
36 - 47
37 - 48
38 - 49
He went on like this until he hit Mike's age of fifty-four, his of sixty-five before a drowsy voice piped up, "Phones?"
Phone Guy jumped in his chair, pen clattering on the desk as it dropped from his hand, and he whipped around. Mike was sitting up in bed, leaning on his elbow and staring at his boyfriend through narrowed eyes that tried to focus. Phone Guy prayed he wouldn't be able to see his unshed tears in the little amount of light the moon was offering. Mike blinked twice, then cocked his head, "Whatcha doin' over there, Phones? Come back over here…" He patted Phone Guy's side of the bed. When Phone Guy didn't move, only gave a nervous glance at his paper, Mike asked, "What're you doing, anyways? S'like…three am or somethin'…"
Two am, actually. But whatever, close enough.
"Oh! Uh -" Phone Guy moved to cover the paper with his hands, as though Mike's nonexistent x-ray vision were to kick in any minute. "J-Just, uh, finishing off some, uh, marking f-for my, um, my students! B-Big test tomorrow. B-Better make sure they're, uh, p-prepared and all that…Look over their old work, you know…Learn…from their mistakes…"
"Tomorrow's Saturday, Phones…No school 'n Saturdays…"
Oh, darn.
"Uh! W-Well, you know how I, um, l-like to be organised…!" Getting back in that bed with Mike felt sinful. Deliciously so. He wanted to, but he couldn't let himself. "G-Go back to sleep, I'll, uh, join you in just a sec…!" He turned away from him after that, pretending to continue his scribbling. Mike would only get annoyed if he discovered Phone Guy was still yakking on about this. Schmidt honestly hadn't seen it as a problem; he hadn't understood why Phone Guy would do so. He heard shuffling behind him and assumed Mike was settling down to go back to sleep, so it came to his utter shock when he heard Mike's voice over his shoulder.
"Wassat?" The brunet blinked tiredly at the paper.
Phone Guy jumped a foot in the air and hastily covered the page with his hands, spinning around to address Mike properly, only to think again and turn back when he saw Mike hadn't bothered to put underwear on. Face bright red, he bit his lip anxiously. Mike really wasn't making this situation any better.
"Don't act like you ain't seen it before…" Mike mumbled as he rubbed his eye with his one hand, yawning a little. Eyes opened back up, fully this time, and Schmidt was awake enough to speak to his boyfriend properly. He leaned over his shoulder to get a better look, "So, what's that?"
"N-Nothing! School work!" He picked it up and held it to his chest, "Boring, boring school work! Y-You wouldn't be interested…!"
Mike frowned deeply. Phone Guy was the worst at acting okay; he didn't even need experience to know something was wrong. Without warning, he snatched the paper from Phone Guy's hands, ignoring the older male's objections, and held it out of reach when Phone Guy tried to grab it back. Once he was safe enough to read it, he did so and found himself frowning even deeper at the writing on the page, "The hell is this?"
"I-I - It's nothing!"
"These are our ages!"
"No, t-they aren't. R-Random numbers - promise."
"Phones!" Mike turned back to him, tone and eyes demanding an answer. Phone Guy bit his lip again and fiddled with his fingers as he tried to think of a way to word it, but Mike had already figured out what was going on. His tone softened a bit, "…We talked about this, Phones. It ain't an issue…"
"I-I've been working it out, M-Mike and, uh…G-Gosh, Mike, I'm gonna change and everything b-before you."
"So, what?"
"S-So! I…w-won't be able to keep up anymore. Y-You'll…" He couldn't bring himself to confess his real worry here, instead just turned away in shame. "Y-You…gosh, you were a kid when I was in college…"
Mike stared at him for a second before he gave a sigh and folded the paper in half. Things like this didn't bother Mike. Poverty, harm, murder, death - they bothered Mike. Big things. Little things like this - some stupid numbers - just never bothered him. He'd cast out the care for those ages ago. But they upset Phone Guy and that bothered him. That was a big thing. Mike's brow furrowed as he dropped the paper into the bin nearby and turned back to face his boyfriend properly, opening his arms a little, "C'mere…" Phone Guy glanced at him wearily, fingertips touching his lip lightly in his worry, then he gently moved his chair closer. Mike placed one hand on Phone Guy's head and brought him closer until he was pressed to Mike's torso, hugging him gently. Phone Guy, for now, let himself enjoy the warmth and love his boyfriend gave off. "Don't you even worry about that, Phones." Mike said gently, voice vibrating in his chest, "Don't you even worry. Who the hell's this gonna bother, huh? What's it matter?"
"I…Y-You should b-be with someone closer your age, Mike. S-Someone who can, uh, c-can keep up…" Phone Guy muttered, urging himself not to get emotional in front of his Mike. That would only make him worry. "It's just…t-the difference between us, it just…sometimes f-feels like…p-pedophilia…"
Mike froze, then broke the hug to give him a look of murder, "You did not just fucking use that word to describe our relationship."
"W-Well, I-I-I…i-it just sometimes f-feels like - I-I'm not saying it is, I-I just…" He sighed and took a moment to compose himself, "I-I…sh-shouldn't be getting involved with -"
"And who the hell says that?!" Mike snapped suddenly without meaning to, borderline scowling. "Anybody who says that can go fuck themselves!" He took a moment to calm himself, then gently brought the man back in and stroked his hair, "…C'mon, Phones…Why the hell would I want anyone else when I've got you, huh…? Don't want anyone else." It was then that Phone Guy brought one hand up to place on Mike's back in a subconscious attempt to get closer. As much of a rough and tough fellow as Mike was, he could really be very sweet when he wanted to be. Lovingly so. It only made Phone Guy love him more. "Y'hear me, Phones? I don't want anyone else. I love you, okay?" Phone Guy nodded against his skin. "Besides, who the hell's this gonna bother? Fritz and Jeremy don't give a shit and nobody else knows. We're both legal an' everything too, so there won't be any cops bustin' down your door any time soon." The thought made Phone Guy tense up; Mike noticed. "Hey, c'mon. You know I'd kick their asses for you." Phone Guy snorted in amusement and Mike smirked, "There we go."
"I-I just…w-where do you see us in ten years, Mike…?"
Mike's eyes widened and he blinked those big blues. They hadn't been together that long. They were close, certainly. All the crap they'd been through together…"Woah, Jesus." He muttered, still surprised by the amount Phone Guy was asking. It made Phone Guy tense up again, so he made quick work to answer. He did so with the same confusion he'd had upon being asked, "Where else would I see us? Together, o' course." Phone Guy blinked, lashes tickling Mike's torso briefly, before he took himself off of Mike and beamed up at him. Mike grinned down at him, "Besides, Phones, you remember my birthday's next week, yeah? Give us a little boost, right?" Phone Guy smiled up at him, feeling magnificently better than he had before. "Now, c'mon back to bed, Phones. Gets real lonely without you, y'know."
Phone Guy gathered himself together, those unshed tears diminishing without much more thought, and he stood up from his chair. The two men smiled at each other, then Mike grinned bashfully and took Phone Guy's hand, "Get over here…" He muttered, taking him back over to the bed. Phone Guy had recognised that look in his eye; sleeping wasn't what Schmidt had in mind.
For the second time that night, they engaged in the activity Phone Guy had been ashamed to think about; loving each other and letting the other know it. Only, this time, the older male didn't feel quite as ashamed as he had the first time around. The only shame he felt was at knowing how easily Mike could get him in such a state, and even that was something so minimal; he really was something special. Loved, Phone Guy felt, as he always did when he and Mike made love, especially when words of encouragement and reassurance were murmured into his ear and kissed into his skin. Mike didn't care about their ages; he loved Phone Guy. Lots. Told him so, over and over again.
Afterwards, when both were back in their earlier spots on the mattress, blanket tossed carelessly over their bodies and energy well-spent, Phone Guy was positively beaming at the ceiling above him. Sure, there was a hint of weariness in there, but his shame and worry were gone (at least, for now). Mike rolled onto his side and removed Phone Guy's glasses for him, "Don't wanna get these crushed…" He muttered as he deposited them on the bedside table, having to lean over Phone Guy to do so. The older man, unable to control himself, wrapped his arms around the younger one and pulled him down to his chest, holding him near and dear to his heart (like he always had done). Mike expressed a small amount of surprise before chuckling and allowing himself to be snuggled, holding his boyfriend right back.
For now, Phone Guy would let that little blip in their relationship go. Just for now. It would probably spring back to bother him later, but - for now - he would dwell on the fact that Mike Schmidt loved him, no matter what some numbers said.
After all, age was but a number.