As always, Scott sighed as he entered the establishment known as Freddy Fazbear's. Why does he do this, you ask? Is it because he hates his job? No - well, yeah, a little. But that's not really the reason here. No, the reason is because of a purple man named Vincent: Scott's stalker/perverted coworker, whose favorite activities included groping him at every turn and just being an all around creeper.
It really was a little annoying.
So, as Scott walked through the doors of his place of work, he couldn't keep back the sigh. He braced himself for the hand that would surely be somewhere it should most definitely not be.
"Hello, Phone~" came the rich purr. There was breathing on Scott's neck. He recoiled and swatted the other man away immediately.
"Vincent," Scott angrily growled, "what have I told you about sneaking up on me? Or just being near me in general?"
"Oh, please, love; it's all okay. Just embrace the feeling." Vincent swung around, placing both his hands on Scott's shoulders.
"Get away from me." Scott glared fiercely at the purple man and smacked his hands. Vincent took his intrusive limbs away, a wide smile on his face.
In a huff, Scott stormed off. Vincent stared after him, not following.
It was now later in the day. Scott sat at the desk, casually filling out digitalized paperwork on the tablet that was in his hands. Mike was playing off to the side with Jeremy; they were taking turns throwing crumpled up balls of paper into a cup on the desk.
"Score!" Mike whooped, clapping his hands together and doing a quick dance of victory. He fetched his paper ball and stood a little farther back. He threw it like one would a basketball. He missed by a good three feet, instead hitting the man walking into the office. Vincent stopped, grin widening. He bent down and snatched the paper ball from the floor, took a bite out of it, and then spat it into his hand and flicked it onto the floor.
"Foul," Mike said in protest. Jeremy frowned.
Smoothly, Vincent swooced forward. He slid onto the large wooden desk, splayed out across it. Scott's eyebrows furrowed, and he lifted his head. He came face to face with Vincent.
Scott sighed, "What are you doing?"
"I have something to show you," Vincent replied, sitting up like a cat.
"Do I even dare ask what?"
Vincent shook his head. "No; that would ruin the surprise, silly!" He stuck his legs out, trapping Scott between them. He scooted forward quickly, falling onto the phone guy's lap and straddling him. Scott simply stared up at his sicko of a coworker.
"Come on, Phone! I wanna show you!" Vincent whined, grabbing Scott's collar and tugging him up.
"Hey! Let go!" Scott protested, hands now gripping Vincent's forearms.
"That's the spirit! Uppy!" Vincent used his body weight to spin the chair and then again to pull Scott fully from his seat. The phone guy stumbled a few moments, a yelp of surprise leaving him. He was quickly dragged out of the office. Curious, Mike and Jeremy followed swiftly after.
"H-hey! Where are you taking me?!" Scott demanded, tripping over his own feet. Vincent still had him by the collar; he thought he'd gotten rid of this problem when he'd stopped wearing a tie.
Not responding - but grin getting wider - Vincent opened the door to the kitchen.
"Wait, I don't understand; what's in he-"
There was a quiet rumble, and the next thing he knew, a ton of whipped cream fell from the ceiling above them. Vincent shoved Scott up against the counter immediately after, hands on the side of his phone. He drew his tongue across it. Scott couldn't even react he was so shocked; Vincent was licking fucking whipped cream off his face!
"Oh dear god," Scott gasped, pushing the man away. "What the fuck?! VINCENT!"
Vincent slipped a little bit on the whipped cream covered floor, a large grin on his face. He then threw his arms out. "Surprise! You like?"
Scott couldn't even speak; he was angry. "I - what?! DO I LIKE?! VINCENT, IT'S A FUCKING MESS IN HERE! YOU FUCKING LICKED WHIPPED CREAM OFF MY FACE! DO YOU THINK I LIKE?!" Scott's face was even redder than normal. Smoke seemed to blow out of the ends of his phone.
"Um . . . yes?" Vincent asked carefully. Scott may have gotten upset with his antics before, but he'd never screamed at him like this.
"NO! GET THE FUCKING MOP, YOU FUCKING DUMBASS MAN WHORE! IT IS NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN, SO STOP TRYING! NOW CLEAN THIS SHIT UP!" Scott finished screaming, eyebrows twitching in anger. Vincent flinched away, holding his arms close to his chest. He hesitantly glanced back to Scott, who was still glaring - if only looks could kill.
"Ph-phone . . . ?" Vincent asked tentatively.
"Don't you "Phone?" me! Get this bullshit cleaned up, or else!" Scott stormed out, flinging flecks of whipped cream on the walls and door. Outside, Mike and Jeremy were standing in complete surprise.
Vincent looked at the mess of white surrounding him. It was nothing compared to the sadness that washed over him at Scott's violent rejection. He turned quickly away, feeling his empty eyes watering.
"V-Vincent, are you okay . . . ?" Jeremy asked quietly, sticking his head in.
A sniffle. "I'm fine." His shoulders were slumped and he didn't move with his usual smoothness.
"Are - are you sure?"
"I-I said I'm fine! Just l-leave me be, okay?" Abashed, Vincent turned and closed the door from where Jeremy had been propping it open.
Mike and Jeremy exchanged glances.
Scott was furious. As he wiped the copious amounts of whipped goodness from his shoulders with a paper towel, he couldn't help but scowl at his reflection. He was cleaning himself in a sleazy bathroom's pizzeria; how low could he get?
"Ay, yo, Scotty - you in here?" came Mike's call, the bathroom door opening.
"Yeah, I'm in here," Scott spat back in disgust. He was still fuming as he turned to face his coworker.
"So, uh . . ." Mike started, shoving his hands in his pockets, "do you think you should've yelled at Vincent like that?"
Scott paused. "Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I should have! The idiot deserved it."
Mike frowned. "Well . . . um . . ."
"Will you please get to the fucking point?"
"Alright, alright; there it is. You're sounding like me, and that ain't good. You aren't any guy to go 'round swearing and screaming at others."
"So what? I'm pissed: is that what you want to hear?"
Mike put his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay, calm down. I get it. But I think you hurt the poor guy's feelings." He jerked his head towards the kitchen.
"Good." Scott huffed and shook his sticky shirt out a little more. "Ruined a perfectly fine day - as usual."
"Well, I guess, but still. You should really say sorry to him."
Scott sputtered, eyebrows shooting up. "Apologize? To Vincent? Seriously? No way. I'm not taking back what I said. I say he needed someone to point out he can't act like that!"
Mike frowned, arching a brow. "That man may be a total ass, and I really don't like him all that much either, but come on, he didn't deserve that. So he's got a little crush on you; what's the big deal?"
Scott scowled. "Little crush? Are you kidding me right now? Vincent follows me around like a puppy!" He threw his arms out indignantly.
"Yeah, I get that."
"He's only trying to get in my pants! Which is odd enough!"
Mike crossed his arms. "I don't care. You hurt his feelings and he's really upset. Just say something to him."
"But-"
"Scott. Come on." Mike gave him a parental glare from under the brim of his hat. "You don't have to do anything fancy. Just say sorry."
Scott paused, still angry. Mike seemed serious about this. Was he perhaps . . . right about Vincent not deserving being screamed at? Maybe he hadn't, actually. He was just trying to get Scott to love him back (even though that was never going to happen).
Sighing, Scott let his shoulders droop. "Fine. I'll apologize." His tone was full of defeat.
Mike perked up, a smile crossing his face. He put his hands on his hips. "Alright, good!"
Vincent had his head in his hands, eyes half lidded as he stared down at the floor between his knees. He heard footsteps behind him.
"Jeremy, I said I'm fine," he snapped quietly.
"Um . . ." came the hesitant reply. Vincent's head shot up, and he turned to look. Scott stood behind him, hands awkwardly held behind his back.
Vincent's heart fluttered in his chest. Had his love come back to him? Wait, no; he was probably just walking through. He wouldn't possibly even think of talking to him again, would he? He made it fairly clear he hated him last time. Vincent sullenly looked back down again, hopes trampled.
"Hi, Scott," he murmured quietly, voice deflated.
"Uh, hi, Vincent," Scott responded just as quietly. There was a brief moment of silence. "I just came by to say . . . that I shouldn't have yelled at you for the . . . whipped cream. You didn't deserve that and . . . I'm sorry."
Vincent's eyes widened. He turned once again to look. Scott stood there coyly, head angled slightly downwards.
"You're just saying that," Vincent decided sadly. His shoulders slumped again.
Scott lifted his head back up. "What? No, I'm really sorry. I just let my temper get the best of me."
"How do I know that? You were really mad . . ."
Scott sighed, rubbing an arm. "Look . . . what would it take to make you believe I'm telling the truth?"
Vincent just shrugged, planting his hands on either side of his face. He sat glumly, still facing away from his coworker.
Scott tapped his phone in thought. What could convince Vincent that he was being honest? . . .
Vincent suddenly felt two arms wrap around his chest. Scott's head pressed slightly against his shoulder, and a little smile worked its way over his face.
"Oh, Mr. Ring Ring, are you hugging me?" Vincent asked slyly.
". . . Are you back to normal yet?" Scott asked in a voice very close to a whisper. He was obviously very uncertain about this; Vincent could feel the tension in his movements.
Not answering, Vincent prepped his next move. A moment later, he quickly turned and grabbed Scott. The other man let out a quick yell as he was pushed onto the floor. Vincent sat on him at first, then lowered himself down so their faces were close to one another. He cuddled into Scott, wrapping his arms around his torso and tangling their legs together.
"H-hey! This isn't what I-"
"Sh, Phone, just let it happen~" Vincent purred, sneaking a hand down to Scott's ass. He squeezed suddenly, making the phone guy give a small squeak of indignation. He blushed red in the face, looking as if he was about to protest.
"V-Vincent!" he gasped.
"You want to make me believe you, love? Then just let me have this."
Scott didn't know how to respond. It was obvious Vincent was completely taking advantage of him at this point. But what could he do about it?
"Ugh . . . okay. But no ass squeezing!"
Vincent smirked, pulling his hand back a ways. Then, biting his lip, he wormed it under Scott's waistband.
"Hey!" Scott squeaked, voice high pitched. He arched his back, trying to wriggle away from the inappropriate touch.
"You said no squeezing," Vincent whispered deviously.
"Sticking your hand into my pants is against the rules too! Nothing inappropriate!"
Vincent shrugged. "Too late." He paused. "You're warm."
Bright red, Scott didn't say anything.
Vincent smiled, one eye cracked open as he snuggled against his man.
Originally, I wasn't going to post this since it was just a prompt Not-a-hipster gave me. But then I decided: why not? PG squared is awesome!