Pass the Microphone
Dedicated Artwork
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: Phone Guy questions Mike on the inked message of his arm.
Pairings: Just Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike)
Warnings: swearing, allusion to male/male sex, mentions of drug and alcohol usage
…
"We're outta shampoo, Phones. Pick some up for me, will ya?"
Phone Guy didn't look up from his book when his boyfriend entered the room, rubbing at the back of his head with a towel. He did, however, smile widely and wait until Mike had plopped himself down on the sofa beside him to scoot over in order to sit closer. The brunet stretched his arm out and laid it on top of the couch's back, brushing against Phone Guy's shoulder blades; half wrapped around him. Blue eyes trained on the TV, allowing green ones to peek at the man.
It was Wednesday and Wednesday was one of Mike's prime workout days. The younger male jogged every morning, some evenings if he was up to it, but Wednesdays were when he broke out the weights a friend of his had given him and sat outside in Phone Guy's garden to put the things to good use. Saturdays were his other scheduled workout time; when he took a trip to the local gym to use the punching bag and running machines. Phone Guy sometimes liked to sit outside with him on Wednesdays, counting for him and wiping sweat from his brow whenever Mike requested it of him. Would make lemonade for him too, just to see the delighted smile on his face when Phone Guy brought the ice cold drink out to him.
The brunet had showered, judging by the sweet scent coming from him, and had changed into his tank top and jeans. That top left nothing to the imagination either; Phone Guy wouldn't brag or particularly like to admit it, but he…appreciated Mike's fitness. Losing his hand to Foxy hadn't dissuaded him either; he still lifted weights and punched bags and all that other stuff. Just had a special hand he had to fit on first before doing it, courtesy of one Fritz Smith. Phone Guy was glad Foxy hadn't taken the whole arm; goodness knows how put off Mike would've been about working out if he had.
Phone Guy pretended to cough as he continued his subtle staring, looking away quickly when Mike moved, but the brunet was simply scratching at his nose with his prosthetic. The blond returned his eyes to him and gave another smile before deciding to return to his book, but not before catching the sight of something black on Mike's arm.
It was writing. Cursive, neat writing that he couldn't quite make out the meaning of from this angle, but the delicacy could still be seen and it made Phone Guy's heart swell to think that someone as rough and tough as Mike could have such a breathtaking display of calligraphy on him. Either the writing itself or the fact that it was on his boyfriend somehow made it all the more alluring and Phone Guy found himself swallowing thickly, a small shiver running up and down his spine.
Mike must've noticed, for he glanced at him, did a double take, then turned to him properly. "Phones? Somethin' wrong?"
"Hm?" Phone Guy was still staring, unable to take his eyes away for a moment, before he became aware that he'd been busted. His eyes went to Mike's face, caught the curiosity and underlying worry, then he gave an embarrassed smile, "O-Oh! Uh, n-no, everything's fine! Hehe…" He willed himself to return to the pages of his novel, eyes focusing hard on the words but not quite reading.
It was Mike's turn to stare at him, "Well, you were starin' at somethin'…" He turned in his seat to look and Phone Guy bit his lip, thinking the man had caught on, but his assumptions were instead of the wall just behind the sofa, "There a spider back here or somethin'?"
"Uh - n-no, nothing's back there. I just, uh…" His smile turned shy as he raised his eyes from his book to look back at Mike, "…n-never noticed you had a tattoo before…"
You'd think it's be something he'd noticed on his boyfriend, but no. Phone Guy couldn't say he'd ever noticed such artwork on his man's bicep. Unless Mike had only gotten it recently, Phone Guy was willing to call himself the biggest idiot for never seeing it before.
"Hm?" Mike turned his arm to look at the writing himself, like he was checking to see if that was what Phone Guy was referring to, then he nodded, "Yeah. Got it ages ago."
Oh. Well, there you go. Phone Guy was the biggest idiot.
"Oh…What's, uh, w-what's it say?"
Mike brought his arm down from the sofa and bent it so Phone Guy could see better. Phone Guy leaned in to get a better look, hoping Mike wasn't put off by his curiosity at all, and read slowly out loud, "…'M-Mein Held'…" Green eyes looked to the brunet's face for confirmation, "Is…that German?"
"Yup." Mike nodded. As American as Mike was, he was forever proud of his German roots. Phone Guy found that to be quite charming.
"Oh. What's it mean?"
"My hero."
"O-Oh…" Phone Guy muttered, biting his lip to stop his smile from getting too big. Mike always called him his hero for leaving those phone calls and saving him from Freddy and the others, so…gosh. Mike had gotten a tattoo in his honour. He wondered briefly why Mike had never shown him before settling on the recollection that he always denied being a hero, so Mike obviously hadn't wanted to put him off or creep him out by showing a tattoo in reference to what he'd done. Still, he was…flattered. Honoured, in fact. He had to clamp his teeth down harder to stop the grin that threatened to break his face.
Mike stared for a moment, looked to the tattoo again, then back to his blushing boyfriend's face. Realisation hit him and he chuckled, "Ah - I see that face. It's, uh…it's not about you, though."
Phone Guy's expression dropped. "Oh."
"Nah, I got it when I was seventeen. Tenth anniversary thing, y'know?"
"T-Tenth anniversary? O-Of what?"
"My dad's death."
Phone Guy's heart stopped there. Mike had said it so casually and so light-hearted that he hadn't registered what he'd even said for a moment. The younger male leaned over him to collect the can of beer he'd left there earlier, taking a long sip, and Phone Guy became aware of his own staring.
Mike's father was a topic that they hadn't discussed very much and in no great detail; the blond considered it a forbidden topic, if anything. All he knew about Mike's father was…well, that he was dead and that Mike held a great respect for the man. The topic was simply taboo in the Schmidt household, but Mike had assured him that was for his mother's sake, though. She'd never moved on from Mike's father; never loved another man and hadn't even bothered to even try to find another. Mike liked that about her; Phone Guy simply thought it was tragic.
The blond bit his lip and averted his eyes, feeling bad that he'd immediately jumped to conclusions on who that tattoo was about. Mike sat back, turning back to his lover to continue the conversation, before pausing when he saw Phone Guy looking away. He sighed through his nose and patted his knee, "Phones, c'mon, we've talked about this. I ain't bothered about talking 'bout my dad. You don't have to look so awkward whenever he's brought up, okay?"
Phone Guy nodded, though it did nothing to improve his mood. "I-Isn't it illegal to, uh, get a tattoo when you're under eighteen?"
"Pfft." Mike took a swig of beer before replying, "You act like I ain't done illegal shit before. Just had to hide it from Mom for a while. Wear long sleeves, y'know?" He chuckled and drank down some more beer, "Nah, but I was hanging out with these assholes at the time, see, and they were all getting inked up. So, big guy turns to me and says 'Hey, Schmidt, you get one too'. You don't argue with a fucker like him; what he says goes, right? So, I think about it and I remember the anniversary's coming up and I just…y'know, I was gonna have to get a tattoo, might as well be something I won't be ashamed of in a few years." He shrugged, "So, I got one about Dad. In German, o' course. Dad would be tossing and turning in his grave if I got something in freaking English, lemme tell you." He chuckled, "Even though he was the one who was all, 'Lassen Sie uns nach Amerika zu gehen!'." Mike laughed, which quickly turned awkward when he noticed Phone Guy's blank look. "Uh - that means 'Let's go to America'…"
"Oh…"
"Yeah." He frowned, "Guys all called me a pansy for getting one so sentimental. Jus' cause I didn't get, like, some chick's fucking boobs tattooed on my arm. Jesus…that's gonna look great in ten years." He scoffed out a chuckle, then looked to Phone Guy with a smile that asked for evaluation.
Phone Guy stared at the tattoo some more, eyes following the trail of black ink in all its curves, curls, swerves and swirls, then smiled gently, "Well, I, uh, I like it. It, uh, suits you better than…what they wanted you to get." He coughed awkwardly.
"Well, hey, wouldn't want you to get all jealous, right?" Mike grinned, "Notice that on my fucking arm and just be all 'And who the hell do they belong to?'." He burst into laughter, to which Phone Guy's smile turned politely awkward at, and then the brunet shook his head, "Jesus. Gettin' your girlfriend's fucking boobs tattooed on your arm. What a fucking dumb idea, 'specially since most of 'em broke up by the end of that year. One of 'em didn't." Mike rubbed his face as he tried to remember, "Think they got married cause she got pregnant or something. Pfft. Probably addicted to fucking…cocaine or some shit by now - and that's just the kid!" He laughed again; Phone Guy didn't find much of the humour. Mike shook his head, "Nah, they're probably divorced by now. She was kind of a bitch and he was a dickhead; either they both get drunk everyday or they just beat the shit out of each other. Either way, wouldn't be surprised if they've split." He rubbed his face again and took another swig of beer.
Phone Guy gave an awkward smile. What a…delightfully adventurous life his boyfriend had led before they met, with delightful people to hang around with. Phone Guy would work hard to keep him away from that life from now on. The blond hummed in satisfaction before picking up his book, intending to go back to reading, only to be stopped when Mike said offhandedly, "You should get one, y'know."
"A…a divorce…?" Phone Guy asked hesitantly as he looked up again. Check that off his list; he'd gotten that three years ago.
Mike scoffed, "Not the split. Tattoo."
"M-Me?" Phone Guy put his book down again. Tattoos, to him, were always something big, tough guys got to impress people. Somebody as slender and as…quite frankly, nerdy as him with a tattoo? The concept didn't quite fit in his mind.
"Yeah." Mike placed his cheek on his fist and leaned a little closer, grinning mischievously, "Think it'd look kinda hot." Phone Guy swallowed thickly and pulled at his collar. The very idea of being 'hot' to Mike Schmidt was certainly tempting; not that he wasn't already that. Mike made sure to remind him whenever they spent the night together. "Like…I dunno - what're you into? - maybe a…Scottish flag or something? Right there." He took his hand from his cheek to draw a circle on Phone Guy's left bicep.
The blond looked at that spot as though to assess it, then looked back to Mike, "S-Scottish?"
"Well, hey, if I'm gonna pay tribute to my German roots, you could do it for your Scottish ones." He held up his can of beer in a teasing toast, "European buddies, we are." He chuckled and downed the rest of his drink before setting the empty can on the coffee table, then going back to leaning on his hand. His smirk was smug, yet warm, then he tapped his prosthetic to Phone Guy's chest, "Or, hey, one that says 'Mike' right about here."
Phone Guy bit his lip, "Hehe - w-well, as tempting as that sounds, I, uh, d-don't think a tattoo's quite for me…"
"Heh. You don't do well with needles?"
"Uh - that and I think my mom would disown me."
Mike scoffed, "Who fucking cares what she thinks? You're also fucking another man - which would she hate more?"
"Hard to tell."
Mike gave another scoff and shook his head. He hadn't met Phone Guy's mother, but - from what he'd heard - he didn't particularly want to. The brunet tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, then said, "Y'know, a few years ago, I promised myself I'd get another one after my twenty-fifth birthday. As a sort of 'Hey, you've survived quarter of the way to a hundred! Nice going, buddy!' kind of thing."
"Oh." Phone Guy leaned back with him, "What're you gonna get?"
"I dunno. Didn't really think about it." He shrugged. There was a moment in which Phone Guy pondered what he would personally like to see inked out on his man's skin, then Mike smirked, "Maybe I'll get 'PG'. Right here." He prodded the section over his heart, "Right where it belongs."
Phone Guy had to bite his lip to stop that grin again, heat rising to his face. The very thought of Mike having artwork on his body dedicated to him was still the most touching thing ever. Still, there was an overlying worry there and his not-so-subtle grin dropped, "O-Oh, uh, d-don't do that…"
"And why not?" Mike sat up a bit.
"W-Well…what if we break up? Y-You'll have a constant reminder of it every time you look at your chest…"
"Yeah, so? Remind me that I had the best fucking boyfriend ever." Phone Guy's lips twitched, threatening to make another smile, and Mike added, "Besides - I love you, Phones, but you know you're my hero above my boyfriend. If anything, it'd be a reminder of what you did for me."
"I…I didn't do anything…"
"Hey, don't start with that bullshit. You did and you know it." He opened an arm for him and Phone Guy scooted closer, nestling his head against his boyfriend's chest. Mike kissed his hair and hugged him with that one arm. The romantic moment was quickly tarnished when Mike said, much too casually, "Maybe I'll get one on my dick. Like, 'Phone Guy was here'."
Phone Guy's face immediately became as red as a tomato, "D-Don't do that!"
"Why? I'm the only one who'd see it." He grinned, "And you, o' course."
"M-Mike."
"What?!" The brunet laughed.
"G-Gosh - y-you criticise other men for getting their girlfriend's, um, ch-chests tattooed on their arms a-and you want one, uh…d-down there…! B-Besides, that'd be…s-so painful…" He gave an uncomfortable wriggle in his seat at the thought of a needle and ink going somewhere so…personal. Also, if he was being honest, the thought of someone else seeing Mike down there…didn't make him feel good.
Mike looked thoughtful as he scratched his temple, "You're right."
"Hm."
"…Should get one on my ass. 'Phone Guy only'."
Phone Guy sat up, "M-Mike!"
"What? C'mon, only you'd see it." That obnoxious grin was back. "You're the only one who goes back there."
"Mike!"
…
The topic of body art didn't arise again for sometime afterwards. Not until Phone Guy had awoken from an afternoon nap to find the house devoid of boyfriends. The blond had checked each room, reminding himself that it wasn't until the next day that Mike would return home, and he'd begun to worry. He'd asked Mike to leave a note if he was suddenly going to leave the house when the brunet first starting living with him for days on end; Mike just hadn't picked up the habit.
The blond had sat there on the couch, cold cup of coffee in hand as he waited for his lover to return. With Mike Schmidt, worrying was perfectly acceptable, especially if he was gone for long periods of time. Phone Guy had last seen him when he told him he was going to go to sleep to get rid of a headache, when the younger male had been watching telly. That was over two hours ago.
Oh, God, Mike, where are you?
Just then, the door opened and shut and Phone Guy put down his mug to meet his boyfriend in the hall. "M-Mike!" He exclaimed as Mike kicked off his sneakers, "W-Where were you?! I-I've been worried sick!"
"Sorry." Mike gave him an apologetic smile, slipping off his coat. He did so slowly, hissing lightly when the movement seemed to bother him; it made Phone Guy's brow furrow in concern. He hung his coat on the hook and turned to Phone Guy with a grin, "I got it, Phones."
"G-Got what?"
"My next tattoo."
Phone Guy blinked once, mouth opening to form an 'o' shape. It was then he remembered Mike's birthday had been only the week before; his promise to himself had been fulfilled. The blond gulped, then asked slowly, "Didn't, uh, didn't get 'PG', did you?"
"Nah. See, I thought about that, but I got an idea on my way over there." Phone Guy showed his relief, even if he did feel a little bit of disappointment underneath. "I got something better."
"S-Something for your mom? T-To match your, um, dad's?"
"Nope. Still about you, don't worry." Phone Guy's back straightened, a subconscious push to get himself ready for whatever it was Mike had gotten.
"It's…not my chest, is it?" He joked to cover up his nervousness.
Mike's grin widened, "Nope. Even better. I popped back to Freddy's earlier to make sure it'd be accurate."
"F-Freddy's? W-Why there?"
"I'll show you. Look." He rolled up the sleeve of his polo shirt and gently peeled off the surgical tape to remove the large wad of cotton wool from his bicep. There, inked onto the skin of Mike's left bicep was -
"…The phone."
"Yup." Mike grinned at the sight of the red phone from the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza's office, the very one Phone Guy had spoken into and Mike had listened from. Remarkably accurate details. "Ain't it great?! I took a picture of it and showed it to the chick with the needle. She was all 'You're getting a phone tattooed on you?' and I just said 'For my special someone. How we met'. She thought it was the most adorable fucking thing ever, I swear." His eyes practically sparkled as he stared at it himself, then he looked to Phone Guy, "What d'ya think?!"
He was expecting Phone Guy to smile in that cute way of his, maybe even tear up and get emotional over such a dedication. However, the blond had a hand covering his mouth, staring at the image with eyes that held all the worry his words couldn't. Mike's brow furrowed, "H-Hey, what's wrong? Don't you like it?"
"I…W-Well, it's great, Mike. She did a good job. I hope you…tipped her."
"Well, what's that face for?"
"…Mike, those things…t-they're permanent, you know."
"Yeah?"
"S-So…gosh, w-we could break up, y'know…"
Mike blinked, then sighed, "Baby, c'mon, we talked about this. I said before, you're my hero above my boyfriend. I would've gotten this even if you turned out to be a complete dickhead when I met ya." He stepped forward to take Phone Guy's hand, "C'mon. This is just my little tribute to you for what you did for me. Ain't for 'he's the love of my life' purposes as much as it is 'he saved my ass' ones. I mean, it's for both, but mainly the second one. Okay?"
Phone Guy seemed to consider this for a moment before he blinked those big, green eyes and smiled that adorable smile. The one that he had to bite his lip to stop it turning into a grin. This time, he went all the way - one finger rose to his mouth so his teeth could gently dig into the pad. Mike grinned; that smile was his favourite, "What're you smilin' about?"
Phone Guy side-eyed him, "…'L-Love of your life'…?"
Mike blinked, then the heat immediately rose to his face too, making his cheeks a red that matched his boyfriend's, "W-Well…Jesus, it was just…uh…L-Look, Phones, the point is I got a fucking tattoo for ya! J-Just focus on that, huh?"
Phone Guy laughed and stepped forward to take the brunet into his arms, being careful not to touch the latest work of art on his bicep, "It…It does look nice…Uh…M-Mike, is it normal for the, uh, ink to leak?"
"Huh?" Mike looked at it, then shook his head, "Oh. No, that's not ink. That's blood." Phone Guy's face immediately lost all signs of red, trading it in for snow white. Mike looked up at him, "Don't worry. That is normal."
"I-Is it?"
"Mm-hm. That's what the cotton's for."
"W-Well - G-God! P-Put it back on!" Phone Guy scrambled to do it himself.
"W-Woah, Jesus, calm down there, Phones!" Mike stepped back to avoid Phone Guy's hands. "It's alright, it's only a little bit. Does that for a while afterwards, then it's all set up. Got a cream to help with that, no worries. Supposed to take the bandage off within an hour, anyways, so…" Mike dabbed very lightly at the tattoo to mop up the blood, then ripped the bandage off altogether before rolling down his sleeve. He approached the blond, gave him a reassuring smile, and reinstated the hug, "And don't worry about getting your own or anything, huh? You're hot enough as it is. Though, if ya don't mind," the brunet grinned up at him, "I think I'll be getting 'PG' next time. Right over my heart."
Phone Guy bit his lip as that smile returned, briefly resting his chin in Mike's hair. His chest swelled - nobody had ever gone to such lengths for him before. A tattoo. His boyfriend - his wonderful, sweet, charming boyfriend - had gotten a tattoo just for him. The man raised a knuckle to his lips as he felt happy tears begin to sting the backs of his eyes. Mike really did love him, didn't he? Gosh - he loved Mike too. Lots. He'd tell him so later. The blond looked down at him, taking his chin off of his head, "Uh…s-so. Does that mean you didn't get one on your, u-um, d-downstairs level?"
Mike laughed, either at the phrasing or the reminder of saying such a thing, then he shook his head, "Nah. Think this chick would've had a heart attack if I walked in and told her I wanted her to tattoo my dick."
"Oh."
"…So I'm gonna wait 'til she's not working, then get it done."
"Oh…W-Wait, what - M-Mike, you're not seriously -"
"Then I'll get one on my ass for extra measure."
"M-Mike!"
"Hey, you can come with me those times, 'kay? Gonna need someone I can trust back there to make sure they're doing it right."
"G-Gosh, Mike, y-you're so…"
"In big, bold letters, right, Phones? 'Phone Guy was here' and 'Phone Guy only', m'kay? That's what we're agreeing on."
"W-We're not agreeing…G-Gosh, Mike…Uh. Y-You're not seriously going to get those done, right?"
"Heh." Mike's old obnoxious grin was back, "Only if you want me to."