Sorry for the delay! Meant for this to be out three days ago but I got caught up with a project. I might be uploading it to my channel soon though, so stay tuned!

Song is Hazey by Glass Animals! Fits more with their later relationship buuut I already have those songs planned out lolz

Anyways enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 105

Rags To Riches

"Thank you sooooo much for takin' Jeremy off our hands," Libby, Jeremy's aunt and their next-door-neighbour drawled, toying with a burnt-out cigarette. She had light brown skin and thick dark curls held up by a tie-dye kerchief and wore a blue tank top and low-waisted jeans. "He's a nice kid, but he can be a handful sometimes, ya know?"

Clara glanced at the angelic seven-year-old holding her left hand with his halo of blond curls and wide, long-lashed blue eyes. "Oh, I can definitely see that."

"Come on Mum, let's go. I wanna show him the restaurant." Michael tugged at her right hand and tried to yank her forwards. Since turning seven and a half, he'd found the word 'Mummy' far too babyish.

Clara held back. "Ah-ah-ah, we've got to wait for Daddy, remember? He's getting the new baby seat set up for Elizabeth."

They were heading to the restaurant because William wanted them to help set up some new equipment or something like that. For seven and a half years he and Henry had been tirelessly studying at college, carefully investing their money, and building up their empty lot into a nice little restaurant. But that was really the only word for it: nice. It had confetti-print tablecloths and welcoming yellow walls with an open mic set up for the low-budget kiddie bands they'd hire if they had the money, and William and Henry would sometimes dress up in golden fursuits named Fredbear and Springbonnie to entertain the kids (and it was pretty entertaining to watch her husband walk around in one of those things) but business was…not booming.

For one, Fredbear's Family Diner was a kid-oriented restaurant, which meant the place was completely dead during school hours. And even on the weekends or parties or days off, it would usually just be the odd family's second choice since they couldn't book Dairy King or Kenny's or the Sunforest Cafe. It was just another locally owned family restaurant, not much of a gimmick besides two men in their twenties dressed in cheaply (but lovingly) sewn by Katy, goofy-looking mascot costumes (which was still pretty funny to her, but she supposed it would take a little more to please their very judgemental audience of children.

"Clar! I got Elizabeth in, we can head out now!" William called from their garish purple sedan. She'd tried to convince him to pick a less conspicuous car, but it was admittedly the cheapest family car they could get.

Evan, her two-year-old, had been clinging to his father's leg like a barnacle, but toddled over to her with a beaming smile when he saw her. He wrapped his arms around her waist in a hug and she patted his back. "C'mon, sweetie, let's get buckled in."

After she'd gotten the boys into their carseats and Jeremy into their spare, she closed the door and leaned against it, lowering her voice and crossing her arms over her brown lace camisole. She also wore a necklace of brown crystals she'd stolen from Katy and an olive green maxi skirt. "Have you looked into that speech therapy I told you Evan needs? He's not even greeting me by name, let alone saying his first word. He's going to need help if we're putting him in daycare in a year."

William shrugged. "Maybe he's a late bloomer."

"Or maybe he's got a learning disability. One that he'll only suffer from if we don't get him help."

"Or maybe he's a late bloomer. Don't stress, he'll be fine."

Reluctantly, she loaded into the car and began to drive. They wove out of the trailer park and onto the main road, lined with cherry trees spring-pink with blossoms and groups of pedestrians walking little dogs. The radio played some British kiddie CD (Clara thought it'd be cute if her kids grew up speaking with their father's accent) that Michael and Jeremy sang along to. Evan wiggled his fingers along to the beat, and Elizabeth slept like…well, like a baby.

When she turned past the gas station to the shops, Elizabeth suddenly woke up and began to wail.

Clara sighed. "Lizzy, baby, hush for Mummy, please?"

The six-month-old continued to sob. "Elizabeth's crying," Jeremy pointed out.

"Thanks, honey. Elizabeth, shh, we'll be at your daddy's pizzeria in a moment. You like it there, don't you?"

She screeched, beating the seats with her little fists. Clara didn't know what to do. She'd read all sorts of parental blogs about how to calm babies, and all of them said to speak in a quiet, even manner. And yet she was still howling away. In her rearview mirror, she could see Evan starting to sniffle, the older boys looking deeply uncomfortable now that they couldn't hear their British CD, and her husband looking like he was about to stab something. She tried again. "Lizzy, please stop crying!"

"S-C-R-E-E-E-A-M!"

William whipped around. "ELIZABETH! SHUT UP!"

Clara shot a glare at him, emerald eyes blazing. "William! That is not the way to—"

"Da-ddy," giggled Elizabeth, stuffing her fist in her drooly mouth.

She froze. "Oh my gosh. Did she just—"

"She spoke!" Michael and Jeremy cheered. Evan clapped his hands.

"That's her first word," William murmured.

"My first word was Prozac," said Jeremy.

"My first word was cucumber," boasted Michael.

They pulled into a nearby parking lot and went to get the kids out, Clara still in shock. "They don't usually speak at six months, right? I was nearly a year when I said my first word."

"What was it?" William asked.

"Mama."

"Cough cough basic cough," He coughed. "Sorry, I must've had something in my throat."

"I'm sure."

"Mine was antidisestablishmentarianism, if you wanted to know."

"Uh-huh. Don't you lie to me, mister, Henry told me your first word was 'toilet.'"

William flushed, lifting Elizabeth up. "Well, Henry's a big fat fibber. Right, Liz?" He chucked her on the chin.

"Fib," burbled Elizabeth.

They exchanged open-mouthed looks.

"We've got a little Einstein here, eh?" William laughed, jostling the baby in his arms.

Michael frowned, bouncing along beside her. "I can say lots of words. Motel, burger, Cadillac…"

"Very impressive, honey," Clara said absently, peeking through the windows. It was hard to tell, but there seemed to be a lot of silhouettes moving through the main room. "Wow, you've got a lot of business for a Sunday morning. Any specific reason?"

"Nope. Guess those two have been advertising, that's all," William said lightly, gesturing to the older boys, who were still rattling off random words. She raised a suspicious brow but didn't say anything, pushing the door open.

The smell of greasy cheese pizza and spicy pepperoni blew into her face. She was looking down a little hall that curved to the left to the main room, the walls plastered in beautifully drawn posters of the main animal duo that Henry's mother had done, as well as a kid's art wall with many a crayon scrawling from her boys. She could hear an acoustic guitar blaring and the murmur of people talking, but unlike other times, she couldn't pick out a conversation among all the people. She couldn't see the amount, but it sounded like a ton. "This place is packed! Will, this is amazing! Is this what you wanted to show me?"

"Mm, not quite." He waved at the hostess to show it was him. "Why don't we go take a looksee inside?"

"Okay…" She followed him around the corner and gasped when she saw what was at the front.

"Abdomen, quilt, ashtray—woah, robots!" Michael exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the newly built wooden stage. And indeed they were. The fuzzy golden suits Henry and William had once worn were now fitted to what looked like those animatronic bodies that everyone was talking about a few years ago. They moved side to side stiffly, their hands pretending to strum the guitar. When the music stopped, she could recognize Henry's voice in a deep, silly voice coming out of Fredbear, announcing the name of the next song and encouraging the guests to purchase that day's special combo—Hawaiian pizza with French toast sticks (only in the morning.)

"It's Fredbear and Springbonnie!" Jeremy cried in delight, shaking his hands. "Mrs. Afton, can we go see them? Please?"

She craned her neck, looking around. In the back where they were standing were the tables and booths with families enjoying their food, and in the front by the stage it was carpeted in a funky geometric pattern and covered in kids dancing, singing, or playing with old toys she'd grabbed from her attic or the thrift store. She couldn't see a single parent watching them, however, and the robots looked pretty janky…

William seemed to sense her worries and grinned. "Don't worry, we've got a day guard over there to watch the kids." He gestured to a tall man with dark skin and a flat-top who's stance was like that of a soldier's and not what was basically a babysitter.

"Pleeeease can we see them, Mum? We'll be really really good," Michael begged, tugging at the hem of her shirt with big cloudy eyes.

"Oh, go ahead. You too, Evan." William gave him a light shove and the little boy hurried to follow the older ones. He gave her a reassuring pay on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Old age kills more people than robots ever have."

That didn't do much to reassure her, but the older boys seemed to be having fun, clamouring over the little plastic play structures and roughhousing with a couple other kids. Evan appeared to enjoy it too, playing with little coloured dinosaurs on a wooden block set.

He winked. "C'mon, let's go get a table. All the food's on the house."

"Perks of being married to the owner, I suppose."

"Yeah. You're like my first lady." He sat down at a booth in the back and picked up the menu. Clara did as well, raising her eyebrows at the options.

"Cheese pizza, pepperoni pizza, Pepsi…Will, these kids are going to have a heart attack while they're in their single digits."

He shrugged. "Junk food sells. Why do you think there's so many candy cereals?"

"Yes, but I'd rather not give my children pure sugar and have to deal with that after." She pointed to a group of six siblings, the younger three scream-crying at the top of their lungs and the older two practically chewing up the furniture. The mother gabbed to someone on her mobile while one kid scaled her leg. They both covered their mouths and laughed.

"Hah, yikes. I would not be able to deal with that." William gestured to his daughter, who was sucking on a pacifier, eyes half-closed. "This is the last one, right?"

Clara rolled her eyes. "Yes, weirdo, and you have a say in making these in case you forgot."

"Whatever you say." He scanned the menu. "I think I'll get a lemon tea."

She picked up a menu. "Of course you'd add tea—aww, you added lavender! You're so sweet!" Lavender was her favourite kind, and it was tricky to find in stores.

"Anything for my favourite curlytop." He ruffled her ginger ringlets that were always tied up in a bun and she squirmed away, giggling.

"You know, I wish one of our kids had your hair," he sighed. "It'd be cute."

"Cute, sure, but have you ever tried to brush out curly hair?" His arm circled around her shoulder and she smiled bashfully. "You're right, though, it'd be cute. None of the kids really look like me."

"Aw, come on. Elizabeth's got your hair colour, and Evan has your freckles," William countered.

That was true. Evan had all of the freckles of her entire extended family combined scattered across his body. Truthfully, he did have her big eyes and full, heart-shaped lips as well, but despite that, he had his father's strong nose and angular face. Michael took that to the next level, looking like a carbon copy of his father, save for the hair colour. "Well, they've all got your eye colour."

"All babies have blue eyes. Maybe Elizabeth's will turn?"

"Maybe." She perked up as the waitress came over, ordering their teas, three chocolate shakes for the boys, and a juice for the baby. While they waited they people-watched, one of their shared interests, though their assumptions sometimes were a bit cruel (though always hilarious). It was one thing she secretly liked about William, how she could be a total bitch around him and he wouldn't bat an eye.

The drinks came and William got the boys over.

"This place is so much funner now," Michael said as he slurped his milkshake. "I'm gonna tell all my friends about it."

Jeremy looked worried. "Are you going to tell me? Am I your friend?"

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Henry and Katy appeared from the entrance, the former greeting them with an enthusiastic wave. Clara furrowed her pale brows. Katy's usual bouncy demeanour was replaced with a slouch worse than her own posture. Instead of her chaotic fashion, she wore a plain white mohair sweater and gray sweatpants with black rhinestone hearts on the pockets. The pink-red streak in her spiky blonde hair was like a poppy in a storm, the only splash of colour in a sea of B&W.

"Hey, guys!" Henry greeted them brightly. He took a seat at the end of their sleek red booth. Evan gasped and hugged his arm, and the other kids shouted their excitement. He laughed and ruffled Jeremy's dirty blond curls. "Hey, when did you two get another kid?"

Jeremy giggled. "I'm not their kid!"

"Who are you then? Their uncle?" The little boy shook his head, smiling a front-toothless grin from ear to ear. "Their grandpa?"

"Noooo! I'm Michael's friend!"

"Really? You look much too old! At least...hmm, sixty? No? Older? How old are you, then?"

"Seven and a quarter." He held up a hand and two fingers, then bent a third.

"Hey, Kitty-Kat," Clara said as the others chatted.

"Yeah, hey Clar-Bear." Katy was staring distractedly at Henry, maroon eyes sunken with deep purple bags wiped free of makeup.

She wrinkled her brows, patting the seat next to her. "Come sit. You don't look so good."

"She's right. You look awful. What's wrong?" William asked, leaning in. He had a hungry look in his eyes that he got whenever it looked like someone was about to tell him a secret.

"Uh, nothing." Katy bent close to her ear, voice dropping to a hush. "Listen, Clar, I need to talk to you. In private. It's really, really important."

"Of course, yeah." She raised her voice. "Me and Katy are just going to the washroom, everyone."

"Have fun," Henry called.

"Don't miss," said Michael, sending Jeremy into a fit of giggles.

William just watched them leave with an unreadable expression.

Clara slammed the door shut and checked under the stalls for feet, slapping her hands on the counter when she confirmed there wasn't. It reminded her of high school when they'd leave class early to dish out gossip in the stalls and come up with rumours to write on them in black Sharpie. "Okay, what's up with you and Henry? 'Cause you were staring at him like…like…well, you were sure staring at him."

"Okay, so swear to not tell anyone. An-y-one. Not even your creepy-deepy husband. 'Cause this is super super weird and I'm only just telling you now, it's that weird.

It must be pretty freaking weird if she's only telling me now. Katy had a habit of filling Clara in on her most mundane activities like what she had for breakfast and a bird that crossed her path while walking to work and a baby that looked at her funny at the shop and a penny she found in the gutter and how there was gum on her shoe and literally anything that happened, and she'd tell it as if she was announcing she was pregnant.

Wait.

"Are you pregnant?" Her voice was a mix of worried and joking.

Katy didn't say anything.

"Hold on. You're pregnant."

Silently, she nodded.

"With Henry's—oh my gosh." She put a hand to her forehead, leaning against the prismarine countertops. "Are you—are you guys together now?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "It just kinda happened. We were working on some plushies for this place when he confessed that he liked me, and, I don't know, I figured he was sorta cute, in a nerdy way, and it just…escalated."

Clara nodded, still trying to work her head around the fact that Henry Emily, the guy who was like a brother to her, was going to have a kid with her best friend. "So what are you two going to do about it?"

"He wants me to keep it," she told her. "I mean, I kinda figured he was the dad type, but I am…not the mom type."

"Yeah, I figured as much." Clara sighed. "Well, in the end it's your choice."

"I'm just worried, is all. I've never been pregnant before. Does it hurt?"

The door slammed open. "You're pregnant?" William asked, disbelieving.

"What the hell?!" Clara shrieked. "You can't be in here! This is the girl's restroom!"

"Oh, whatever." He shut the door behind him, crossing his arms. The veins in his white arms popped out as he gave Katy a once-over. "Yeah, I can see it now."

"What?! Do I look pregnant?!" Katy cried, her voice high and panicky.

"No, Kat, you don't look pregnant. Will, seriously, put a sock in it."

"Put a sock in it," he mimicked, leaning against the door. "Maybe next time put some birth control in it, yeah?"

Katy's eyes narrowed and she jumped off the counter. "Oh, you're one to talk."

"Hmm?" William stooped down so he was eye level with her, being over two feet taller. He smirked with all his teeth, contempt oozing from their diamond points. "What's wrong, slut?"

The door suddenly creaked open and a hand poked through the crack. "Uh, Will, you in here?"

Henry. "Yes, he's in here; can you get him to leave? Now?"

"Okay, well I wanted to show you guys something. And Will, how many times do I have to sneak you out of the girls washroom? Stop gossiping!" He closed the door, leaving them in silence.

William saw her face and faltered, coming forward in a long stride and taking her wrists. He could wrap his whole hands around them and then some. "Aww, darling, I was just teasing. Didn't mean any harm."

Clara avoided his gaze, catching a flicker of amusement in it. She flexed her wrists subtly, realizing with a sort of unsettling surrender that he could probably hold her forever and she'd never get loose. "Whatever. We'll talk about it later."

His eyes followed Katy as she left the room, then darted back to hers. "C'mon, Clary, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything about it. You know I'm rubbish at crossing the line, really." His face was open and earnest.

"I know," she mumbled, "it's fine. You shouldn't be apologizing to me."

"You just looked angry, is all." He bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you."

"Love you too." She wriggled her wrists. "Now lemme go."

~lll~

"Holy guacamole," Katy said, hushed. "That is…"

"Terrifying." Clara finished, gazing at the robot that stood in one of the back rooms where Henry and William worked in front of her. Skinned from its faux-fur suit, the bot was nothing more than a metal skeleton. It's plastic eyeballs bulged without a face, with sinewy rods for arms and legs and big cartoonish feet and hands. Twin triangles sat on either side of its head as ears, and a long pole like a unicorn horn sat atop its head, probably to balance a top hat on.

"This was our prototype for Fredbear," Henry explained, gesturing wildly with his hands. A red whiteboard marker was tucked under the temples of his tortoiseshell glasses. "The speaker was

faulty and the arms were jerky, so we had to build a new one." He pressed a button inside its chest cavity.

The endoskeleton immediately straightened and its hand curved as if holding an invisible microphone. Its arms twitched erratically and its iron jaw moved up and down. "H-hi kids! W-W-Welcome to Fre-e-edbear's Family D-D-Diner! We h-hope you are ha—make sure to tr-try our special, o-o—and now, me and my buddy Springb—song c-called…by…So sit ba-a-ack, rela-a-ax, and enj—show!" It jerked back and forth, changing from position to position in the blink of an eye. Then it stopped still, the only thing moving behind it's jaw as if talking, but no sound came out. The eyes stared into her.

Clara stepped back, bumping into William's knees where he sat on an old armchair. He took in her worried expression and pulled her onto his lap, thick arm circling her waist. "It won't hurt you."

"I know that. It's just creepy, is all." She stole the mug of lemongrass tea from his mouth and took a long, languid drink, grinning with sour lips. "Mine now."

William wrestled the mug out of her hands and licked a long stripe around the edge. "Mm, tastes yummy."

Katy stared at them. "Y'all are disgusting."

He smacked his lips at her. "Yummy cooties."

"Anyways," Henry clapped his hands, "that's all we wanted to show you."

"It's really impressive," Clara told him truthfully. "Seriously. I don't even know how those robot thingys work. You guys are gonna get so much business."

"Well, Will did most of the work." Henry said sheepishly. "I just helped."

William rolled his eyes. "Aw, shove off. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be able to make sense of any of these mechanical bits."

"Both of you did great," Katy said, though there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at Henry.

Clara's heart cracked. It was obvious Katy had feelings for him. But she knew her friend, though she'd never show it, cared about people so deeply that she'd sacrifice her own happiness for someone else's in an instant. She just hoped the baby wouldn't hurt a relationship Katy so clearly wanted to happen.

~lll~

"Daddy, are we gonna be rich now?" Michael asked, setting the crusts of his grilled cheese aside.

"Eat your crusts, Michael," Clara chided, "and no, no we won't."

"Well, I wouldn't say that." William contradicted. "We could be rich."

Michael made a show of picking at his string beans. "I want to eat dinner at Jeremy's. I hate beans."

"You ate there last night, I don't want to impose on his mom or his aunt. And Will, anyone could be rich, but it's unrealistic to think we will. Michael, you know better than to slip them under the table to your brother, don't think I don't see that."

"Have a little faith, darling. The place was packed and it's the first day with the animatronics! I'm telling you, this is going to be big."

"Hmm." Clara wasn't so sure they'd be rich, per say, but maybe they'd finally have enough to afford a house. It was certainly cramped having only a trailer to split between four people and a baby. "No matter what, I'm very proud of you, honey. I know it's been hard being away from the kids working so much, and if you think it's going to pay off, then why shouldn't it pay off. And Michael, for heaven's sake, your sister throws up whenever she eats bread, remember? Just eat them!"

Evan pointed at the steaming strainer of strong beans, getting squirmier and squirmier as his father first reached for the iced tea, then the mayonnaise. "Really got to get this one talking, eh?" William muttered as he spooned the veggies onto his plate. He snapped his fingers in front of the toddler's eyes. "Kid. Can you say 'string beans?'"

"Bing bean," chirped Elizabeth, who'd been talking all day when she saw how excited they'd been when she'd first spoke.

"Elizabeth, can you say butts?" Michael asked.

"Butts," she mimicked.

The brothers dissolved into giggles.

Clara glared at them. "Don't be so dirty, both of you."

"Butts butts butts," Michael whispered very loudly into Evan's ear, who was fighting a smile.

"I SAID NO BUTTS AT THE DINNER TABLE!" She yelled, which shut them up quick.

"See, he does understand words," William complained, waving the ladle around. "I think we're coddling him too much. Evan, hey, if you don't say string beans right now, I'm going to smack you with this."

"William!" Clara shouted, at the same time Michael quietly whispered. "On his butt?"

Hysterics from both the boys. Clara collapsed. "I give up."

"No, you've got to punish them. Take away their dinner or something. Otherwise they're going to grow up soft and someone's going to come along and squish 'em."

"They live in a trailer park, I hardly think they're soft," Clara replied hotly.

"Whatever. I grew up in a household that gave me fair punishments, and you don't see me taking crap from anyone."

"Maybe that's not such a good thing."

"What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Do I still have to eat my crusts?"

"YES!" Both parents shouted, followed by tension-filled silence.

"I'll eat your crusts, Mikey." Evan said slowly and carefully, taking the bread from his brother's plate.

William and Clara stared at him.

Michael continued, oblivious. "Good. I hate crusts. And beans. You're a weirdo if you like them. That means you're a weirdo."

"Okay," mumbled Evan through his crusts.

Clara stood up so fast her chair fell over, bending down and hugging him. Her laughter was giddy and triumphant. "Evan, baby, you spoke! Oh, I'm so proud of you!"

He swallowed his crusts. "Can I have more beans?"

"Er…yeah, of course." She passed him the silver strainer. "Have the whole thing. I don't think anyone else likes them much."

"Brilliant, he's speaking. I was going to have to use la chancla on him," William added jovially. Clara laughed nervously, unsure what that meant. But to be honest, she didn't really care. All that mattered was that now she had three speaking kids, and that was enough for her.

~lll~

"That lady looks like you," William said, pointing to a hideous old witch on the screen, covered in warts and gray hair a frizzy mess.

Clara wailed, smacking him. She sat beside him on their little bed watching some fantasy movie in the one room they got, the kids sharing a mattress and a crib in the main room of their trailer. "Omigosh, shut up! I do not!"

He just smirked and ruffled her curls. "C'mon, sit in front of me. I wanna do your hair."

"Fine, but keep your hands to yourself. You've been really touchy today."

He laughed throatily. "No promises." His hands carefully undid her tight bun, letting her ginger coils spill down her shoulders. He took her chin, turning her face to him, searching it. "You look really pretty with your hair down."

She grinned through her blush. "Thought you said I looked like the witchy lady."

"Nah, you're way better." William leaned down and kissed her. She let him for a few moments, but then pulled away.

"Do my hair. You said you would."

"Sorry. Couldn't resist." He grinned at her. Taking her frizzy hair into his hands, he began to braid it as the movie played. A ridiculously obese woman came on-screen, pushed in a wagon overflowing with rolls of flesh, wearing stained peasant clothes. "Hey, it's Mrs. Torres."

"You are so mean," she hissed, but he could hear the affection in her voice.

He finished braiding and took the elastic from her ponytail, tying the end. "There you go. Now you look like Rapunzel."

"I wish I looked like Rapunzel. Thirty feet of hair and no tangles." Opportunity struck when a mangy goat riddled with fleas trotted past the main characters. "Will, I didn't know you were an actor!"

"I'm going to smother you in your sleep." He glanced over at the time. "Speaking of sleeping, it's well past midnight. We should get some rest." William flicked off the TV and turned out the lights, wrapping himself around Clara's smaller body.

"Eek, you're squishing me!" she cried. She could feel his hot breath heating her scalp and his large body against the curve of her spine.

"Doesn't matter. Sleep now." He held tighter just to spite her, and they dozed off.

A/N

I wonder if the restaurant will take off….hMmMm.

Question/Challenge: share a useful life hack you've learned! I just found out that by putting a spoon on your mobile device screen, you can use it as an auto clicker! Perfect for Bee Swarm Simulator…

Have an amazing day/night!

~ghost