One Anomaly Is A Coincidence. Two Is Fate. Three Means We’re Having Fun
To save humanity is to send those best suited for the job. And if those candidates can cut down on energy used, time spent traveling through space, and how much food is consumed per meal, then adding ‘sizeshifter’ as a necessary position gives Sol and Earth the best chance at survival.
It also gives surprise passengers entertainment value.
Spoilers: Project Hail Mary, Iron Lung
Warnings: Cursing, dehumanization, mentions of death, the fear of getting crushed, mentions of blood
@unevencube2554 I humbly write this fic in your honor
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The ship is quiet. Almost too quiet. And it’s pissing Simon off.
…maybe that’s not the right word to describe what he’s feeling. Anger has become his baseline emotion whenever something sets off his internal alarms, an instinct of needing to conceal his fear behind the terrifying sight of the Butcher on a war path. Something that not only worked time and time again in his favor, but it ensured his survival through the hell he endured in the sub.
So with the Hail Mary becoming hauntingly quiet despite one resident’s language comprised entirely of melodic notes and always causing catastrophic thumps to echo every time they move, and the other constantly colliding with the single most noisiest objects every other second while always muttering under their breath, he finds himself experiencing the same need to combat the dread creeping through him with anger.
Never mind, he was correct with his first assumption. The quiet is pissing him off. The real question should’ve been if that’s really the best emotion to have.
Simon doesn’t even lift his head to give a shrill whistle through his teeth. He’s not calling out to someone who might have a hard time hearing him several rooms away. He’s calling to an alien who can see through walls with how impeccable their hearing is.
Sure enough, a whistle is sung back to him as an immediate response. One that has a distinct lack of warbled notes from pain or panic.
Yep, he’s allowed to be pissed. Time to take his anger out on who caused it.
Simon doesn’t even bother to turn off the tablet he was reading from. He simply pushes himself to a stand, boots thumping harshly against the floor as he makes his way down the hall. His eyes scan each room his passes, lingering on the pilot’s chair in case someone was up there needing to check and correct their current course. As he continuously comes up empty handed of a target, he’s encouraged by soft whistling just loud enough to guide him toward the lab that at least one of them is waiting for him there.
Rocky sits curled up inside his metal ball in the middle of the lab’s walkway. Despite the fact the Butcher is currently in a mood all of the Hail Mary crew are now well aware of the signs and consequences of, one thing the rock spider has never done and that’s run away like a coward. Simon can’t help but respect him for it, though the same can’t be said for Grace who seems to have already found a corner to hide away in.
“What did Grace Rocky do, question?” Rocky stomps. Always willing to get straight to the point, another thing Simon respects.
“It’s quiet,” is huffed in response. A little too casually considering he just promised a death sentence.
But rather than immediately spring up to go on the offensive to defend himself against Simon, Rocky stays curled up in what he claims to be a comfortable position, three limbs continuing to work on his newest project instead of quickly tucking everything away. “Apologies, Grace small. Quiet better for small Grace.”
Simon has realized the ‘human thinking machine’ is rather limited when it comes to translating Rocky’s songs. It gets the general point across, but much like how the grammar is never perfect, it also lacks certain words for fully proper translations. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the distinct lack of swear words even though the melodic equivalent of shit is desperately trying to be communicated.
That being said, he can’t think of a single reason why the word small is being used to describe Grace’s current status. “Grace is small?”
“Grace is small, statement,” Rocky confirms, knowing what’s really being asked, that being if the wrong word had been translated. But it wasn’t, small was deliberate.
Simon’s scowl morphs into frustrated confusion as his eyes dart around the lab in the hopes he can locate the ‘small’ Grace. “How small?”
“Can fit inside message container,” Rocky replies as a fourth limb lifts to point to a grey cylinder sitting on top of one of the lab’s tables. A cylinder identical to one Simon had been told to try and crush in his fist to test his strength.
The Butcher stares at it, half expecting the apparently minuscule doctor they’ve been talking about to jump out from behind the container to shout some obscene exclamation similar to the one his shirt quoted regarding an element of surprise.
Nothing happens. What does happen is a very concerning amount of dread beginning to crawl its way through his veins as he imagines Grace small enough to fit inside the container he’s boring holes into. To be that small would make it effortless to hold him inside a fist. To end up getting crushed by a boot if its owner wasn’t watching where they stepped. To fall off one of the counters that might as well be a cliff with nothing but the unforgiving ground waiting to catch him.
Grace is small enough to make Simon into a giant. A circumstance that is being treated with the casualty of being told he fell asleep while working in the lab again. Yet no one thought to tell the newest crew member about it.
Now Simon’s extra pissed off.
“Where is he?”
As the words echo through the ship, Grace makes frantic motions with his arms to create a giant X as he desperately tries to tell Rocky no don’t reveal his hiding spot he’s fine no need to tell Simon-!
“Grace in thinking room.”
Rocky you pinky promised!
Despite the betrayal of his best friend not adhering to an agreement that’s supposed to go both ways, Grace becomes frozen where he stands out of direct line of sight between the wall and the small ledge that separates the thinking room. Because from his position, he has a clear view of the behemoth that is Simon currently looming several feet away. Or should he say miles due to his current size?
It’s…been a while since he’s been small around another fellow human. Rocky’s one thing, that being a force to be reckon with even when Grace is at his normal height and the equivalent of several moving buildings when he’s shrunk, but a human being is completely different. They have hands that tend to be a bit grabby. Familiar expressions now the size of a billboard. A reminder of what it looks and feels like whenever he shifts in the opposite direction and grows rather than shrinks.
And they stomp. Oh how much they stomp, especially middle schoolers who are much too curious about their shrunken teacher and therefore will hold off getting Ms. Bell from next door and instead request he continues the lesson while being passed around like any other show-and-tell item he brought to the classroom.
But even though it’s been a while since he’s been small around someone, the most valuable thing he learned is to always stay still. Because as long as he doesn’t move, then he won’t be-
“On floor. By wall.”
What the flippity flip, Rocky?!
The feeling of being watched settles over Grace’s shoulders like a blanket. And as his eyes trail up the boots with rubber thicker than he is tall, up legs stretching taller than skyscrapers, past the usually hilarious ‘I had potential’ physics joke that doesn’t even make him crack a smile this time around, all the way up to the carefully emotionless stare of Simon.
Neither of them look away as their eyes meet, the significantly smaller feeling pinned down by the stare alone as the significantly larger takes a moment to comprehend what exactly he’s looking at.
Once his fellow human realizes it is, in fact, a small Grace posed as though he was just caught trying to steal snacks out of his own desk’s drawer, Simon’s brow furrows into what can only be described as confuzzled anger before a catastrophic boot big enough to flatten him like a bug shifts ever so slightly.
Logically, he knows it’s Simon. Knows this is someone who, despite being a bit on the grumpier side, has spoken through his actions he is a kind person who just wants to help others. For every time he’s kicked Rocky’s ball to send the Eridian flying across the Hail Mary and roughly manhandled Grace whenever his boundaries are pushed, there’s been the times he’s helped Rocky get unstuck when he’s rolled into a tight corner and when he’s pinned Grace down to force him to get some sleep after staying awake for 48 hours straight.
And yet despite knowing that, the only thing Grace can think about is the fact someone is coming for him. So before the giant even has the chance to take a single step to initiate the chase, he turns on his heal and books it.
Grace sprints for the nearest cover, that being the servos locked on rolling tracks. He’ll have to worry about keeping track of where each one might be moved in the attempt to catch him out in the open, but at least the space underneath is too small for a hand to properly reach under to grab him.
The only issue? Even as he runs as fast as he possibly can, he can already feel the ground quaking beneath his converse with a foreboding thump as those boots follow after him. Gain up on him, the ground shaking steadily turning into devastating earthquakes at an alarming rate as an ominous shadow creeps over him.
But he can’t stop. He has to get away, has to-!
“This isn’t up for debate, Ryland.”
He couldn’t help flinching at his first name being all but spat like a curse word. Stared across the table at Stratt watching him with something akin to apathy.
“I can’t go,” he murmured, struggled to keep his voice even. “My kids-“
“-will die because of you,” she snapped. He flinched as he lost an inch in height. “You want to keep your students safe? Then you won’t act like a coward and run away.”
Grace shook his head. Swallowed as his throat threatened to close. “I’m not-“
“Yes you are,” made him lose yet another inch in height. “You’re a coward. You’re weak.” Another four inches as he started to shrink rapidly with every barb she sent straight into his heart. “The only way you can ensure everyone who has sacrificed their lives for this mission didn’t do it in vein is get on that ship.”
He couldn’t stop himself anymore. Even as he fought to try and grow just a few feet, he shrunk too quickly to stop it. In the end he found himself standing on the floor at only two inches tall, frozen as he struggled to breathe as he stared at Stratt’s boots from where she still sat. As if she wasn’t cutting him down both figuratively and literally.
And then she stood up. And Grace was faced with the fact he was a coward as he watched in horror as those boots started coming for him.
Once Stratt rounded the table, she stood towering above him with a look of destain. Like he was an uninvited bug that she wanted to do nothing more than squash.
“Have you made your final decision?”
His answer was to turn in the opposite direction and run, on legs that trembled as he desperately ran for his life, only to stumble and trip-
A yelp escapes Grace as he falls out of the memory he wishes to never visit again, only to scream as a wall of rubber lands directly in front of him. “Holy-!”
The shrunken man doesn’t have enough time to stop his momentum before colliding with the awfully familiar boot. He does manage to lift his arms up to protect his face, but it does nothing to stop him from painfully bouncing off before falling onto his butt.
“Ow.”
“Lose any teeth?”
Grace freezes at the words rumbling like thunder directly overhead, staring at the ground after curling up as he held his head waiting for the world to stop spinning. Slowly, as if not to startle the living storm cloud, he lifts his head as his eyes lock onto the objects in his immediate proximity. To his right, the boot doesn’t so much as shift, the proven formidable barrier not leaving anytime soon. To his left, a hand with fingers longer than he is tall attempting to look unassuming from where it rests a few feet away.
Gulping, Grace eyes focus directly above him, every muscle tensing as he sees Simon kneeling in front of him, so close the giant casts an inescapable shadow over the infinitesimal figure. And his expression leans more toward the side of frustration than anything else.
They stare at each other for a few moments. Huh, he would’ve thought he’d be grabbed by now.
“Uh,” Grace begins, a little uncertain what to do after he, you know, ran from a fellow crew member. “Wh-What was the question again?”
It’s impossible to miss the way Simon leans in closer with just how big he is, the sight making Grace want to run again at the thought of the towering being falling on him. “You ran into my boot like a dumbass. Knock out any teeth?”
Grace winces before shaking his head, only to immediately regret it as he sucks in a sharp breath from the pain it causes. But the good news is it’s not a concussion and he is not missing any teeth. “Nope! All good! Just got some sense knocked into me.”
His attempt at a cheesy smile falls as Simon full on scowls at him, he’s not supposed to run anymore he should not start running. “Was it enough sense to tell me why you’re small enough to get crushed under my thumb?”
And wow Grace absolutely hates that imagery if his body shivering involuntarily has anything to say about it. He thinks he would’ve preferred being compared to a bug.
“Well,” he begins, coughing into his fist as he straightens up, crossing his legs as he carefully uncurls from his protective ball. He tries to meet Simon’s eyes to have an earnest conversation, but one second against the intense look and he turns his head away as he rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “I, uh, reflexively shrunk when one of my experiments kind of exploded, and it’s taking a little longer than usual to grow.”
Grace glances over to watch Simon’s reaction, freezing when the scowl only gets deeper. “You shrunk, or your experiment shrunk you?”
Oh snap, he forgot to tell Simon about his status as a sizeshifter.
Well, actually, that’s a fib. He didn’t forget, more-so couldn’t find the right way to explain it to someone who has a hard time trusting everything he and Rocky say and do. If Simon needed an entire month just to accept the fact they don’t want to harm him after being told a little bit more of how he ended up on the Hail Mary, Grace didn’t think it would be wise to throw in the fact one of his newest crew members can shrink and grow at will.
Grace should’ve taken into account how this might look. Simon stumbling upon someone small enough to, as mentioned, crush under his thumb, and assuming they either don’t trust him, or there’s something malicious going on. Or, if they’re hiding this, then what else can they be hiding.
And that’s how Grace finds himself hunching in on himself, shoulders hiked up to his ears, thoroughly reprimanded. “I shrunk. I’m a sizeshifter, so I can shrink whenever I want, and sometimes when I don’t because something startled me.”
Or when emotions overwhelm him.
“You don’t just grow?”
“Huh?” Grace asks as he looks up to meet Simon’s raised eyebrow. “You, you know I can grow?”
“You grew the first time we met,” the towering man replies with a hint of exasperation. “You got big enough to pin me with one hand, and yet you decided to not to use the advantage like an idiot.”
He did grow when they first met? It wasn’t too long ago when Simon first appeared, but there had been a lot going on. Did he really use his size to scare someone? Had wanted to do something like that?
The giant sighs through his nose. “You were protecting Rocky while he slept.”
Grace’s face begins to burn when the memory surges forward. Of him hearing Mary announce there was an intruder and immediately grabbing the handheld XRF spectrometer to help defend his best friend before growing several feet. He wasn’t thinking of using his size, though, just to deter who or what ever was on the ship to not come near them.
But from Simon’s perspective, apparently he thought an honest to goodness giant was going to forcibly restrain him against his will.
“Fudge, uh, I-I hope you know I would never use my size like that,” Grace begins. And then he realizes…they never talked about this before. And with Simon clearly remembering him growing, his fellow human has most likely been worried about the next time it could happen. Might’ve even been dreading bringing it up out of fear Grace would grow and finally decide to use such an ability against him.
Oh he fricked up. “Shoot I am so sorry, Simon. I didn’t know you knew! But I would never use my size against you! I might grow again at some point, I can’t really stop it sometimes, but I won’t hurt you! Or force you to do anything! Or-!”
“Are you saying this because you’re trying to reassure me?” Simon cuts in, easily overpowering Grace’s rambling. “Or are you saying this because you’re afraid of me taking advantage of your current size?”
Grace’s eyes go wide as he shoots a glance at the hand directly beside him. “Well, it was the former.”
Instead of becoming offended of the implication Grace is now a little worried about him being so small, Simon smirks. “Glad there’s a bit of self-preservation in you.”
His question of if Simon thought there hadn’t been before this gets lost as the hand finally moves, and suddenly Grace is greeted with the all too familiar sight of a massive palm moving toward him, curled fingers aiming to scoop him up.
“Simon, wait!” the shrunken man yells as he attempts to stumble back.
Of course it’s futile. His foot gets caught by a finger, forcing a worried ‘frick!’ as he trips and falls directly onto something moving and alive. And before he can so much as blink, a pinky pins his right leg, followed by a middle finger nudging him into the center of a curling fist, with a thumb hovering just above where he’s firmly pinned down with nothing but his head visible and only one arm free.
“Simon careful with Grace, statement.”
Grace holds his breath as Simon rolls his eyes as the fist holding him tightens ever so slightly. “I’m being careful.”
Which, in the defense of someone who’s a giant for the first time, he is being careful. Grace would much rather not be grabbed and pinned by someone who’s never interacted with a sizeshifter before, but he hasn’t been hurt. He just can’t keep his heart from trying to escape with how thoroughly confined he is.
“Grace in fist.”
“And what would you have me do?” Simon demands.
To answer, Grace opens his mouth to offer some advice, only to have a silent scream escape as the first time giant stands up without any warning, making if impossible to catch his breath as the air displacement sends his hair flying, leaving him gasping once Simon stops moving.
“I only have one hand,” Simon continues as he glares, assumably, at Rocky. “Would you rather I chance having him go tumbling and not be able to catch him?”
“Simon dumb, dumb, dumb,” the Eridian responds. “Grace small before. Knows how to be small. No need fist.”
“Guys-“
Grace is cut off again not by the two continuing to argue, but by Simon suddenly walking. As a jolt jars him to his very core, the shrunken man is faced with that fact he’s more out of practice than he thought. He distinctly remembers being a pro at continuing on conversations even when his students dangled him upside down by his leg, and all the times he confidently sat on someone’s shoulder even as they ran down a hallway, yet he can only seem to focus on the sound of a xenonite ball thumping against the metal floor. His arm instinctively wraps around the finger wrapped around him as genuine fear of falling from a fatal height grips him tightly. His eyes shut tightly as the feeling of vertigo makes his stomach flip.
And then the warmth and safety of Simon’s hand disappears as the fingers pull away, leaving Grace shouting in surprise as he stumbles onto flat ground.
Before he can face plant, a finger wraps around his chest to keep him upright. “Has Rocky used ‘ungraceful’ as an insult yet.”
“No understand.”
“Do not explain it to him,” Grace pleads breathlessly as he uses the finger to steady himself, carefully balancing on wobbly legs that did not enjoy the impromptu grab.
It takes a moment, but he’s able to step away without tripping on his own feet again. Thankfully, despite being a little grabby before, Simon sets his hand down on the edge of the…counter. He’s on a counter?
Turning around, Grace comes face to face with the rest of the lab with Rocky still in his hamster ball as he rolls over to where the shrunken man stands, and Simon hovering close by after seeming to have found a chair so he’s only the size of a three story building rather than a ten.
“See? He was fine in a fist,” Simon grouses before focusing back on Grace. “How long does it normally take you to get back to your usual height?”
“Well, it depends. Sometimes a few minutes, sometimes a few hours.”
Simon gives a flat look. “How long this time around?”
“…I’m thinking a few hours,” Grace admits sheepishly.
The towering man gives a small hum in acknowledgement before abruptly standing up, sending Grace instinctively skittering back a few steps. He forgot how fast other humans are when he’s small.
“Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, Rocky.”
And with that, Simon stomps down the hallway, disappearing from sight before Grace even realizes what happened. Within seconds, he’s left completely stranded, unable to get down until he manages to shift again. Something that won’t be happening anytime soon.
His heart clenches at the thought he’s become a liability. And really he always has been. Growing every single time whenever his class went on field trips with him. Shrinking constantly when he was working with astrophage on Stratt’s Vat. Rocky needing to stay in a singular spot whenever he shrinks to ensure he doesn’t get crushed purely by accident.
Now Simon has to always be told whenever he shrinks to ensure he’s put somewhere high above the ground so he doesn’t end up under an unknowing boot.
Grace sighs as he plops down, legs folded so he can rest his arms on his knees. He stares across the vast distance between where he sits and the thinking room he was effortlessly picked up and carried from, the very spot he stood only minutes ago too blurry to properly see.
“What Grace study, question?” Rocky suddenly asks as the Eridian tumbles through the lab, most likely ecstatic with his newfound freedom now that a certain sizeshifter is out of harm’s way.
Grace shrugs. “Nothing big. Just looking at the blood Simon had on him.”
“Learn something new, question?”
“Other than it does not like astrophage?” the shrunken man replies. “Nope. Nothing useful.”
“Well now we know not to let it in the same room as the black goo.”
Grace jolts at Simon’s voice, yelping when the counter jumps as something is tossed onto its surface. He then stares as the man sits back down to pull what looks like the same tablet he claimed several weeks ago to slowly start going through every book, article, and scientific study known to man up until the Hail Mary was sent on her mission to save the stars.
Once Simon pulls up whatever he was reading before, he focuses back on Grace. “Need help starting on something you can do while tiny.”
“Uh,” is the only thing he can say as he attempts to process what’s being said, being offered. “No?”
“You get two more hours of research before we’re getting a minimum of 6 hours of sleep, tiny or not,” Simon announces as he turns to his tablet.
Grace stares up at the giant. Blinks a few times before rubbing his eyes to be sure he’s seeing currently. Yet Simon doesn’t disappear once.
“What Grace Rocky study now, question?” his best friend demands.
Grace’s brow furrows, stumped of a response before straightening up as an idea strikes him. “Oh! We should check on the telescope’s data!”
“Simon get telescope data!”
The man in question doesn’t hesitate to heed Rocky’s command, standing up and walking over to where both the Eridian and shrunken figure run toward to find the long sheet of data that has been slowly printing over the course of a month. Ripping it off the printer, Simon turns to the table in the middle of the lab completely void of an items littering the surface.
Grace huffs as he skids to a halt after running all this way to get to the data sheet. He’s about to ask Rocky for assistance getting across the chasm when a shadow falls over him.
At the sight of two pinching fingers reaching for him, he sprints, squawking when a thumb and first finger snag him almost immediately as his feet are lifted away from solid ground.
“Careful, careful, careful!” Rocky berates.
Simon huffs as he carefully frees Grace onto the middle table, the shrunken man only stumbling back a step before righting himself. “I think I can handle a few seconds of holding him without you thinking I’ll crush him.”
“Simon break xenonite. Simon can break Grace. Simon hurt Grace, Rocky break Simon.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Guys,” Grace quickly interrupts, glaring down at Rocky looking seconds away from rolling after Simon to start a physical altercation. One where they both know the human would win. “I only have 1 hour and 40 minutes left to research, focus.”
The Eridian plops down into a loaf to show his displeasure. “Focus.”
Grace jogs over to the start of the data, a string of numbers regarding the red and blue shifting light from the moon they’re getting further and further away from by the day in the hopes they can figure out if it’s staying in one place, getting left behind, or getting closer. Once Simon has sat back down and focused on his tablet, Grace begins to rattle off numbers as big as his forearm for Rocky to memorize for when they start doing the calculations.
He is really hoping he can grow before his time is up, not wanting to see how Simon intends to reinforce the minimum six hours of sleep while he’s shrunk. But he’s not dreading it. Nor is he dreading when he inevitably grows or shrinks again.
He’s just glad he didn’t scare off another friend.
Milkshakes with giant coworkers...what could possibly go wrong?
Content Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of violence and break ins, mentions of stiches/receiving medical attention, descriptions of getting killed in multiple ways, mentions of dehumanization
Jeremy has officially joined the trio of chaos
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“Sorry, Jerber,” is spoken with so much venom, so much hatred, it leaves the young man being taunted completely frozen, too petrified to even close his eyes.
As if that would do him any good. It’d be the equivalent of hiding under the covers from the monster under his bed when he was younger. The thought that if he can’t see it, then it can’t see him.
No, if he were to close his eyes, he wouldn’t just magically be hidden from sight and impossible to find. He would still be standing on a desk made for someone a hundred times his size with the haunting sound of a crank slowly unwinding, the massive blue hand of an animatronic mascot reaching for him as its owner looms directly above him with a bloodthirsty smile.
...on second thought, maybe he would like to close his eyes. Knowing what’s coming is terrifying, but watching it happen makes it ten times worse.
“Looks like you lose.”
Jeremy trembles as the hand begins to wrap around him, only for everything to freeze as the distinct chime of his shift ending rings through the office.
ToyBonnie’s hand obediently opens before pulling away, the massive blue bunny wearing an unimpressed frown as Jeremy collapses to his knees in relief. “Well that’s lame.”
Jeremy doesn’t try to disagree, too focused on remembering how to breathe and focusing on anything but the sound of his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Is it normal not to be able to feel his legs? Is it supposed to burn every time he gasps for air?
He can’t help a breathless scream as a massive finger pokes his side, frantically scrambling away out of fear of it grabbing him, or flicking him, or crushing him.
“Guess we’ll be seeing you tomorrow night,” ToyBonnie huffs, clearly annoyed he managed to lose despite being so close to winning. He gives another harsh poke that makes Jeremy curl into a ball with a silent plea to please don’t kill him he didn’t mean to cheat please don’t kill him. “Hope you learn from your mistake.”
At the grating sound of mechanical parts grinding against each other followed by the catastrophic thumb as heavy machinery hits the ground, Jeremy waits until the desk stops jumping with every step ToyBonnie takes before carefully peaking past his arms. When he spots the first ray of sunshine lighting up the end of the hallway and no signs of any animatronics, a heavy weight finally lifts off his chest as he takes a shaky breath.
That was much too close. He’s only been working as a night guard for Fazbear’s for a little over a month, but he’s never almost lost before, even when he was first left on his own after a week of training. Sure, the tablet he uses to check the camera is the size of a swimming pool to him, and he has to sprint across the desk to hide behind the Freddy head so he isn’t grabbed by any of the giant animatronics that come into the office, but it’s more physically demanding more than anything. In his opinion keeping track of the animatronics is easy, he just has a few issues with being quick enough to reach everything.
But he was particularly slow to react this time. The music box seemed like it was unwinding a lot quicker than it should on a Monday night, and he tripped when he jumped off the tablet to reach the flashlight, and Mangle kept appearing in the hallway no matter what he did!
The worse part is he thought the animatronics liked him. Maybe not enough not to kill him if he’s ever grabbed before his shift ends, but enough to agree it’s a lot for one person to handle, especially a human working at a location made for giants and using things that could crush him if they ever fell on top of him. They had even agreed that because he can’t actually pick up the flashlight that’s as big as a tree to him, as long as he flips it on they’ll count it even if it’s not pointed in their direction. But maybe that was less them wanting him to win and more so needing to be as fair as possible...or maybe it’s because Mike threatened them if they didn’t agree.
Carefully sitting up, Jeremy hugs his knees as he stares down at the wooden grain of the desk he could easily trip over and maybe even lose his shoe. Feels his trembling only get worse instead of better when he remembers it’s only the first day of the week. He’ll have to come in again tomorrow and do it all over again. Maybe ToyBonnie will bring up the fact Jeremy should’ve lost tonight. The others might taunt him about this will be the night he loses if he had to be saved by his shift ending.
...why did he ever agree to take this job? Why didn’t he take Scott’s offer to leave before he even started once they realized he was human? Why did he think he’d be able to work a job where he runs around a desk like a lost mouse?
Why did Mike ever think he’d be good at this?
Suddenly, it sounds as though something crashes against a wall, the sound echoing down the hall as it distorts into a horrifying cacophony, earning a fearful squeak from Jeremy as he holds his breath hoping it’s not ToyBonnie coming back to finish the job, there’s not someone breaking into the restaurant, he’s not going to get blamed for damages he didn’t cause.
“Good morning!” lets him take one small breath. Because someone coming to vandalize or rob a place don’t say good morning, do they?
“Damn, you didn’t break the shitty door,” and that causes Jeremy’s small bit of hope crumble into pieces.
“I can kick it again!”
“I'm pretty sure you already gave Fitzgerald a heart attack with your first attempt. We also wouldn’t be able to blame him for one less door if you did break it.”
Wait, that’s his last name. They’re not talking about him are they? Someone didn’t come specifically to kidnap him have they!
Any want to quickly find somewhere to hide is foiled as a dark shape appears at the end of the hallway. The sunlight doesn’t hit their face, but even if it did, Jeremy wouldn’t be able to see any detail. Not with how blurry everything gets at certain distances, especially when he’s inside a place made for giants.
It’s clearly a person, though. And they’re walking straight toward him.
“Bet he’s on the floor already.”
Jeremy’s trembles pause, almost to make it easier to listen, because the voice almost sounds familiar. They immediately start up again as a second and then third form steps into the hallway, all three steadily getting bigger and bigger as they get closer and closer.
“How much money are you willing to lose?”
“Hmm, I’m thinking 50.”
As the first figure finally gets close enough, Jeremy sighs in relief at the sight of James stepping into the office. “Looks like you bet wrong Benedict, he’s still on the desk.”
“Fuck!”
Despite the yell being loud enough to hurt his ears, Jeremy can’t help perking up at the realization the familiar voice had been Eggs. He tries his hardest to hold back a flinch as the mechanic runs the rest of the way down the hall, yelping when the towering man stops right in front of Jeremy before kneeling down. His joy at seeing one of his favorite coworkers turns into slight alarm as massive arms are suddenly set on the desk in front of him as Eggs sets his chin on his wrists before flashing a Cheshire grin.
“Hey, Jer, how you been?”
“Uh, g-g-good?” is all the human can offer as he tries to calm his racing heart from the catastrophic actions. Of course he knows Eggs doesn’t mean to set off his fight or flight instincts. He’s still getting used to giants all together, and his coworkers still haven’t grasped just how big they are.
They’ve gotten better! Jeremy remembers when he was immediately grabbed by Eggs whenever the mechanic spotted him. Or when none of them realized just how loud their voices are and therefore never hesitated to yell even when he was right beside them. And the several incidents of stepping over him, or nudging him with a shoe, or dangling him by the back of his shirt. Those are now few and far between, though Eggs is still a little grabby, same with Mike.
They have yet to get down the fact that with how big they are, quick actions are a bit nerve wracking. Especially when there’s absolutely nothing Jeremy can do to get them to stop an action or get out of the way in time.
It also doesn’t help that he’s still not over the fact that he nearly lost the game today. That he was nearly killed. That James and Eggs were almost greeted by an empty desk, with no sign of Jeremy ever working here.
“Was that a question?” Eggs smirks, and suddenly there’s a finger nudging Jeremy’s side as he nearly falls over. The human is quick to grab onto the digit to stay upright, too stubborn to let his knees go. The instinctual action turns into a possessive hold as warmth floods through him, pulling the finger closer as it obediently moves with his demanding tugs to hover above his knees. “Hey no stealing my body heat!”
“You h-have enough to g-g-give,” Jeremy counters with a glare, daring the giant to take his hand away. He’s only given a loud sigh that ruffles his curly hair and earns a harder glare.
“Jaaaames, heeeelp. Jeremy the heat vampire is going to turn me into a popsiclllle.”
“That’s always the risk you take when you give in to poking him,” the doctor says, making Eggs groan as his head flops over dramatically.
“Then go on without me! Leave me to my fate.”
“You promised shitty fries, asshole.”
Jeremy snaps to attention at the sound of Mike’s voice, having completely forgotten there had been three giants. As he looks beyond Eggs’ massive form taking up most of his view, he finally spots the man who trained him for the night shift, a smile spreading across his face as Mike gives a familiar smirk in return.
“H-H-Hi, Mike!”
“Hey, Jerber. Fucking shit up?”
Jeremy blinks at the question, glancing between Eggs pretending to be dead by closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out, and the claimed finger that seemed to be the cause of the giant’s untimely end. “...maybe?”
Mike grins. “Fuck yeah, just like I taught you.”
“Looks like you taught him too well,” James muses, reaching over to poke Eggs and receive a dramatic bleh sound. “He’s killed our milkshake patron.”
Jeremy’s eyes widen as he stares up at the giant. “Milkshake?”
As James looks over at him in amusement, he ducks his head in embarrassment at his reaction to hearing such a simple word, not having meant to say it almost pleadingly. Though in his defense, he can’t even remember the last time he had a milkshake.
The worse part is one of his favorite foods is served at the location he works at. Not every Fazbear restaurant does, but this one offers it, and he always sees at least one being carried out to a table when he’s leaving after his shift ends.
...actually, no, the worse part is the fact that one of the perks for being the night guard is being able to get free food. But this is a restaurant made for giants, meaning every pizza and milkshake is big enough for him to become a topping or an extra ingredient to. And no matter how much he loves milkshakes, there is absolutely no possible way for him to eat something bigger than him all on his own, or to take home to slowly eat away at.
Although, from what he’s heard from the animatronics and how the kitchen cuts a few corners, maybe he should be grateful he can’t eat any of it...
That being said, he always watches longingly whenever food is brought out for a table. And his nose always turns toward the pizza’s that came right out of the oven. And he admittedly gets jealous when Fritz refills his soda cup.
“Oh yeah,” jerks him out of his thoughts, jumping as Eggs opens a massive eye to focus on him. “I was going to invite you to join us for milkshakes. Buuuut I’m dead, so, bleh.”
The human nearly yells with desperation as Eggs sticks his tongue out again, almost begs the mechanic to let him come along, he’ll take back whatever he said!
Mike elbowing James catches his attention first. “I call dibs on the bastard’s wallet.”
“I want his collection of random ID’s.”
“Hey my collection is sacred!” Eggs exclaims, the giant sitting up as he turns to properly yell at James, making him loom over Jeremy. And then the finger that had been so gentle when it poked him becomes a heavy weight that pins him in place.
That’s when his cautious fear regarding giants comes rushing back. That as much as his coworkers are thoughtful of just how small he is to them, always careful when they grab and poke at him and always watching the ground when they walk, he will always be genuinely afraid of them. Because there’s always the one time they forget to be careful, or they think he isn’t around and don’t watch the ground. Or like now, when they’re distracted by something or someone and completely forget about him and how fragile he is.
At least Eggs doesn’t crush him this time, his finger just becoming a little too heavy where his knees shake from the pressure being applied...or maybe that’s just his trembling.
Because what about the next time? What if someone blindly sets something down right on top of him? What if they’re grabbing him as someone calls their name? What if they try to grab his arm or leg when someone screams or something breaks?
What if Eggs kills him now right after he just barely won the game?
Panic grips Jeremy as he frantically tries to shove the massive finger longer than he is tall and ten times more powerful, he has to get away now before it crushes him-!
“So what do you say, Jer?” rumbles around him at the same time the digit that should have been impossible to move immediately lifts away from a single push, settling down almost delicately in front of his shoes.
Jeremy can’t seem to find any words to say, instead looking up at Eggs grinning down at him, the giant’s full attention on the human that should’ve been crushed like a bug. “T-T-T-To wh-what?”
“Coming with us to get milkshakes,” the mechanic says, possibly even repeating something he already said. And yet there’s no eye roll or rough poke, no threat the human should be grateful he’s even being asked instead of simply being grabbed and brought along without a choice. “As much as I love Fazbear’s ice cream made from cardboard and pizza from the trash-”
“You eat that shit daily, asshole.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t have one every week.”
“-I know a place with the best ones in town!” Eggs finishes without any attempt to prove what James and Mike added to be wrong. “It’ll be my treat!”
Going somewhere with three giants. Not to another Fazbear location, to an unknown restaurant that could be miles away from where he lives, that may or may not serve human sized dishes, for an unknown amount of time or if he would be allowed to leave whenever he wanted.
“...wh-where is it?” Jeremy quietly asks.
“It’s actually right across the street,” Eggs replies as he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “So close you’d be able to wave to the Toys through the window!”
Well, he could, but the animatronics wouldn’t even know if he was due to how small he is. It’d be easier to see a butterfly at that distance than him trying to wave. Something he knows the giant is well aware of.
And yet he knows if Eggs were to ask if the Toys saw Jeremy wave and they said no, the giant would berate them for their audacity for not giving the respect such a thing deserves. And then Mike would find a to destroy them enough they’d be decommissioned for at least a day to which James would come up with an excuses for why it was ‘necessary’.
...milkshakes are worth the possibility of nearly getting killed three times in one day.
“Mike c-carries me,” is his one condition.
He realizes it sounds much too like a demand where Mike has to carry him even if the giant didn’t want to, but any floundering to take back his words are stopped by the man in question already walking over to the desk and making it jump with every catastrophic footstep. Jeremy can’t help a small squeak as he expects to immediately be swept off the desk, only to have a massive hand set down palm up a few feet away.
Eggs then stands up with a dramatic bow. “Your giant awaits, oh great and noble Jer.”
Jeremy carefully unfolds himself from his protective ball, slowly standing up as his limbs protest. He didn’t know just how long he’s been curled up, nor did he realize he was still shaking, so when he takes his first step he ends up tripping over his own feet. And since his first instinct to curl up again, he would’ve fallen face first if it weren’t for fingers suddenly appearing to catch him.
Catch him, and then sweep him up, making Jeremy curl into yet another ball as he’s sent tumbling head over heal.
“Let’s go, assholes.”
“Bet I can beat James there!”
“That’s a bet you’d lose!”
Jeremy squeaks as he finally comes to a stop, unable to help curling up even tighter as everything jolts around him before a gust of wind nearly sends him tumbling all over again as he senses massive beings moving before seemingly disappearing. Then everything jolts again, and again, everything else going quiet save for the sound of someone breathing.
Peaking past his arms, Jeremy finds himself in the center of a massive hand cupped around him, fingers that could easily curl over and pin him down just out of reach with the world beyond them moving past him in a blur. Turning to look directly above him, he freezes at the sight of Mike watching him with a smirk. “You okay, Jerber?”
He’s a bit frazzled, and his tumbling didn’t really help his trembles, but he’s okay. Admittedly enjoying just how warm it is sitting inside a giant’s hand. “I-I’m okay.”
He instinctively hides his face as something nudges his back. “Glad you came to have shitty milkshakes with us. Been A Dick’s been wanting to ask for goddamn weeks, but you’re always gone by the time we show up.”
“Really?” Jeremy asks as he sits up to properly see the giant’s expression, watching as Mike nods before shrugging, yelping as he feels the motion as the entire hand lifts up and down note to self never sit on Mike’s shoulder.
“It's our weekly night guard meet up, plus Stitches and sometimes Phone Guy. Don’t want you to miss out on bitching about the animatronics and fucking shit up with us.”
So Mike, Eggs, and James hang out after work once a week after their night shifts, and they’ve been wanting Jeremy to join. Not just for today, but every week moving forward by the sound of it. Even though he’s the only human employee in the entire company and has unknowingly been blowing off any previous attempts to invite him. Even though he nearly got killed after only a month of working as a night guard. Even though he’s quiet, and stutters, and constantly cowers whenever someone moves too quickly, and can’t bring himself to hate the animatronics who try to kill him every single night.
Easily able to be lost Jeremy. Fragile needing to be careful around constantly Jeremy. That Jeremy.
“Y-Y-You want me around?” slips out before he can stop himself.
Instead of looking as though he’s been caught red-handed, or maybe even guilty, Mike looks genuinely confused. “Why the hell wouldn’t we?”
Before Jeremy can answer, the giant is opening the door to the restaurant, stealing his words away as he’s brought into the sunlight after spending six hours in almost complete darkness. Darkness that was almost his tomb, never able to see the light of day after being taken into the back rooms to be killed. His corpse never to be found.
Forgotten.
A shiver runs up his spine as relief and terror fight for his attention. Because on one hand, he left the restaurant in one piece. He’s alive, and he’ll be able to go home, and there’s no shortage of games for him to play and books to read to take his mind off of the harrowing night. But on the other, he has to come back for another shift. Face murderous animatronics all over again. Do everything he can with what limited tools are provided to keep himself alive for yet another night. And he’ll have to do it the next night. And the next, and the next, and the next...
“Mike, James is cheating!”
Jeremy admittedly startles at Eggs’ yell, his attention locking onto two blurry forms on the ground next to a building they seem to be walking toward. It’s hard to tell what exactly he’s looking at though, because even though he’s fairly confident one of them is Eggs, the giant seems to be on the ground.
“It’d be past tense. I cheated because I’ve already won,” the other blurry form replies, sounding a lot like James. Meaning the two forms on the ground are his coworkers.
“You didn’t win, I call a rematch!”
James snorts at that, and with a few more steps from Mike, everything comes into focus to reveal Eggs lying on his stomach, his arms forced behind his back as James holds them in place as he keeps the mechanic pinned down despite the struggles to get back up. And that’s when Jeremy feels a pain of regret for agreeing to join at the realization the two were wrestling.
Wrestling, even though their human coworker is capable of being crushed purely on accident if he ever ended close to where they were fighting.
Mike only gives his own snort of amusement. “Who tackled who?”
“Benedict tackled me,” James immediately tattles. “I was going to win, so he tackled me to not lose the bet and instead lost twice.”
“I demand a rematch!”
Jeremy’s shoulders hike up in a poor attempt to cover his ears from the shout. But he can’t seem to be able to move his arms as they stay locked around his knees...when did he curl up again? Why is Mike getting closer to the two? What if Eggs manages to get back up and accidentally knocks into Mike or make James topple into him? What if they decide to wrestle with Mike and make Jerremy fall or get crushed?
“You know I’d win again,” James taunts as he frees Eggs’ arms and stands up. Even though his legs could be swept out from under them or Eggs could lunge again they’re much too close they’re going to start fighting again he needs to get a safe distance away. “With me having more muscle mass and all.”
“Muscle mass, schmuscle mass,” the mechanic huffs as he stands up. Lifts his arms as Jeremy covers his head with his own arms in preparation of what’s to come, he should never have trusted to be around so many giants at once milkshakes aren’t worth getting killed over. “You’re paying for your own milkshake!”
“I think you should buy me two.”
Jeremy’s breathing stops as he waits for the fighting to begin. For Mike to get knocked to the ground. For the hand to turn into a crushing fist from reflexes, or for him to fall from a fatal height to the unforgiving ground below.
“You drive a hard bargain. Deal!”
...nothing happens. No sudden tackle to begin a rematch. No forcing Mike to wrestle to try and prove superiority. As Jeremy carefully peaks past his arms, he watches as Eggs and James shake hands before the mechanic turns to grab the door they fought each other to reach first, opening it as he gestures for everyone to walk inside.
Jeremy can’t help a quiet squeak as something nudges him. He looks up to find Mike watching him with a smirk. “Don’t worry, Jerber. You don’t have to start shit if you don’t want to.”
“You make it sound like I was part of the problem,” James comments. The doctor only smiles at Jeremy’s wide-eyed stare, worried he might’ve been offended over the human’s blatant fear and distrust. “Don't ever listen to what Benedict says, I never instigate.”
“You’re a goddamn liar, Snitches,” Mike vocalizes what Jeremy doesn’t have the heart to say aloud. Not that he doesn’t think James always lies! But he’s heard plenty of stories from Scott about the doctor starting rivalries between coworkers.
But...at least he won’t have to worry about being part of any physical altercations.
“Yeah, James,” Eggs grins as he slips in front of them. “Stop being the problem child.”
“Says you,” the doctor coughs into his hand.
Jeremy goes stone still as the mechanic’s mouth drops open, looking seconds away from lunging at James and making the human take back everything he thought, his coworkers are going to forget about him and end up crushing him in a wrestling match.
“Welcome in!” a voice suddenly cuts in before a fight breaks out, causing Jeremy to flinch as Eggs straightens up. Rather than start another wrestling match, the mechanic points to his eyes before pointing at James in an ‘I’m watching you’ motion before turning to the person behind a counter. “Or should I say welcome back.”
“Good morning, Erin!” the mechanic greets with a wide smile. He quickly walks over to put his elbow on the counter, propping his cheek against his fist. “How are you this fine day?”
“You mean the one that hasn’t even started yet?” the woman smirks as she copies him. “Cut to the chase, Benedict, or you’re getting coffee instead of milkshakes.”
Confusion slowly begins to creep through Jeremy at the sound of a certain menu item being held hostage, especially when it’s clear the two know each other. Glancing around the rest of the restaurant, he takes in the sight of checkered floors with blue and white colored booths along the walls, padded stools lining the counter Eggs stands at. It’s hard to make out what the menu says on the wall above their heads, but it’s clear this in a diner, one that much like Fazbear’s hasn’t been remodeled since the 80’s.
It’s quiet, though, and the rather familiar aesthetics are comforting, as ironic as that sounds. It makes him feel a lot better for blindly trusting his coworkers. Not that he thought they would have any ill intentions!
“So, get this, you know how Clara was going to leave Vlad?”
“Because he kept saying the baby isn’t his even though it clearly is?”
“Was this week an Immortal And The Restless week?” James asks despite Jeremy only becoming even more confused. “I was hoping to get updated on Roses And Betrayal.”
“You know he fucking loves the vampire one,” Mike replies. “He’s still pissed he missed it that one time.”
“Right! So, because he sucks, she was going to take the car, but apparently it’s a rental,” Eggs continues, his voice low as if he’s telling a closely guarded secret.
“No!”
“Yes! She knew she wasn’t going to get the house, though, so she ended up setting it on fire!”
Erin gasps. “She did?!”
“She did! And that’s how the episode ended!” Eggs exclaims, and oh, they’re discussing a TV show. One that Jeremy admittedly is a little curious about.
“Well in my opinion, I think it’s the least he deserves,” Erin begins, both Eggs and James nodding in agreement. “Alright, you’ve earned your milkshakes, I’ll get the machine warmed up. But I expect an update next week.”
“Hopefully there will never come a day that I fail, it’d with be a tragedy for both of us,” Eggs laments with a hand on his heart, his head hanging sorrowfully.
Erin rolls her eyes. “I don’t want excuses, I want results.”
“Yes, ma’am! Oh, and before I forget, can we get three shakes this time, one of them human sized?”
Jeremy jolts at the reminder of just where exactly he is, that the discussion he was listening to was between two people who’s words could easily drown out anything he tried to say. That he’s in an unfamiliar place he failed to ask if they offered human sized portions or if it was expected for him to bring his own glass to add a drop of their own portion into. He doesn’t even know if the building he stands in is friendly to humans and has seating made for him, or if he’s seen more as a pet to hold and put in a pocket or a pest to chase away from a food establishment.
“Your friend finally came?” Erin asks, and Jeremy has to stop himself from ducking out of sight as her eyes lock onto him, watching as the woman brightens. “You did! Good to see you could make it this time!”
Even though it’s clear she’s happy to see him, he can’t but feel overwhelmed and a bit confused about why his arrival has been anticipated, even expected. Was he supposed to bring something? Did his coworkers make a promise on his behalf he’s expected to fulfill now that he’s here?
They didn’t promise that she could hold or pet him...did they?
“Your friends have been wanting to invite you for ages,” doesn’t help calm his nerves. “I promise we make the best shakes in town no matter what Eggs tries to say.”
“Hey I tell everyone you’re the best!”
“Like how you tell everyone you’re an angel that does no wrong?” Erin demands.
Eggs pouts. “No.”
“Uh huh, sure,” she smirks. “Which flavor would you like? We’ve got chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and banana. I can also do a malt if you prefer.”
“Ch-Ch-Chocolate please,” comes out of his mouth before he can fully process the words, fully decide if he wants to stay or ask Mike if he wouldn’t mind helping him outside so he can start making his way home.
“Chocolate, please,” James repeats after a moment of silence, taking away Jeremy’s last chance to change his mind.
Erin gives a thumbs up. “You’ve got it! You guys can sit down wherever you’d like, I’ll have your drinks out in ten. Oh, and the human tables and chairs are in a compartment in the wall in all the booths.”
“Thanks, Erin!” Eggs waves as he suddenly darts away to the left, Mike and James obediently following with Jeremy in tow.
He can’t help turning his head toward the door, watching as the sign reading ‘closed’ hanging on a hook becomes too blurry to read at an alarmingly fast rate, the outline turning hazy enough it blends in with the rest of the windows after only two more steps, something that sends a spike of fear through him when he realizes he’s trapped. In a place where there might not be a human exit, in a restaurant that the employees aren’t required to make sure a fellow coworkers isn’t snatched off the ground like a lost toy.
What if the others forget about him when they leave? What if he wants to leave early and they refuse to help him to the door? What if another giant comes in and grabs him while the others aren’t looking? What if they accidentally add him to the change and he gets locked in the register with the rest of the money?
“How’s this spot, Jer?”
Jeremy almost curls into a ball from surprise, looking up in confusion to see Eggs waiting for a response. “F-F-For what?”
“For us to sit and gossip,” the mechanic smiles. “We tend to sit back here, but if you want to sit at the counter, or in the back corner, we’ve got no complaints!”
He glances over at James patiently standing next to Mike, making no move to sit at the selected booth or walking to another one with his own preference. “C-C-Can we sit closer t-to the door?”
Without a word, Mike turns on his heel, the human squeaking as the quick motion makes him fall onto his side. “Tell me when to stop, Jerber.”
Jeremy quickly sits up to properly see where the giant is walking, eyes squinting as he tries to make out where the door is. After several steps, it seems to materialize, his shoulders slumping in relief he at least knows where the exit it. A squeak escapes as he’s jolted yet again, waving his arms to tell the person carrying him to stop. “H-H-Here's good!”
The giant stops, turning to a booth that looks identical to the one Eggs originally chose. “This one?”
“Yes please,” Jeremy nods. That’s when he spots James and Eggs walking over to inspect the chosen spot, realizing the question might not have been a genuine one and more of a rhetorical one meant to sound polite. For all he knows, he might be breaking a sacred tradition for their weekly milkshake meetups. “I-I-If that’s okay, I-I-”
“I’ve got no preference!” Eggs announces as he quickly slides onto one side of the booth, James immediately following without a word.
Jeremy yelps as he seems to fall for a split second, his heart hammering against his chest when he realizes he was left behind due to Mike sitting down. And now he wants nothing more than to stand on solid ground after being held for so long, wants to stand on something flat and solid that can’t suddenly disappear from underneath his feet.
Suddenly, the hand he’s sitting on tilts, leaving him silently screaming as he slides onto an unfamiliar surface. One that’s pure white, cold, easy to stand up on, doesn’t have a pulse...
Finally on solid ground, Jeremy’s heart slowing begins to settle as he slowly takes in his surroundings. He can’t help a small flinch at the sight of a ketchup and mustard bottle three times his height and a salt and pepper shaker easily big enough for him to hide behind. At least there’s no party hats he could get trapped under or utensils big enough to scoop him up with, just an admittedly daunting napkin holder the size of a building.
Fully turning around before looking to his left, he sees a rather familiar sight as Mike sits with one elbow on the table to prop his cheek up with. Granted this is a much cheerier backdrop instead of the hauntingly dark office at the Fazbear location he works at, but it’s what he saw every night for a week as Mike trained him on how to survive the night shift. All except for one night when the giant came in a little early and decided to take a nap by propping his shoes on the desk in order to properly recline back, something that scared Jeremy so badly Mike went so far as to put him in a pocket to help calm him down before their shift started.
To be honest, he didn’t mind the pocket, but he knows the moment he tells the giant is the moment he’ll always be pocketed.
But he misses Mike helping him on his shifts. The giant always asked so many random questions, like what Jeremy liked to do on the weekends, what was a nintendo, does he know why balloons float, who does Jeremy think would win in a fight Mike or Marionette. He also knew every loophole for getting out of being killed by even a barely noticeable flash from the flashlight still counted and there technically is a rule where two animatronics can’t camp inside the vents to wait until the other is occupied so they come out right after the other.
If Mike had been with him tonight, he wouldn’t have barely gotten out alive.
“Dude this stupid thing won’t open-”
“I think you pull it down-”
“Ah ha!” pulls Jeremy’s attention to his right, eyes widening at Eggs towering directly next to him, almost needing to tilt his head back to properly see the giant’s face.
He should’ve been focusing on Eggs’ hands, squeaking as the massive limb casts a shadow over him, covering his head protectively with his arms instinctively. He knows it wouldn’t do anything if something twice his size falls on top of him, or if fingers decided to pluck him off the table, but even if his first instinct was to run he wouldn’t even be quick enough.
“There you are, Jer!” booms overhead, coaxing him to open an eye to see a table and chair standing before him. Something that’s his size and the same color as the booth and table he stands on.
This was actually made for him.
“That’s actually cool as hell,” Eggs murmurs, reaching forward to delicately pinch the chair between his first finger and thumb.
For a moment, Jeremy stares in awe at the sheer size difference. Sitting inside someone’s hand is one thing, but being able to watch something else on the same scale being held, it puts it in a better perspective just how big giants are. Eggs’ nail is as big as the chair’s back padding, meaning it’s as big as Jeremy’s own torso.
And then the chair’s suddenly being lifted up high above his head, the chair he’s meant to sit in stolen. “H-H-Hey!”
Eggs freezes as if he was caught red-handed. He blinks a few times before offering an apologetic smile as he carefully puts the chair back down. “Sorry, I just always see you at Fazbear’s, so it feels like you just got shrunk.”
Jeremy blinks. “Really?”
“It doesn’t help we only see you in your uniform,” James chimes in. “It seems like you got shrunk while on your shift so you’re stuck wearing it forever.”
He never thought about that second part, but Jeremy does feel like he’s just been shrunken every time he goes to work. Like the bus he takes passes through a ray on the way there and back, shrinking him when he’s on the way to Fazbear’s and growing him when he going back home. It would explain all of the giant buildings surrounding him, why there’s no tablet or flashlight his size that he can use. He never thought his coworkers thought about it the same way.
“We should get you some human sized items, maybe a proper desk so you have somewhere to sit on the slow nights,” Eggs muses. “Break the illusion.”
“You just want to mess with miniature things,” James smirks, making Jeremy tense due to him being a miniature thing.
“What? No! I want to make sure Jeremy doesn’t think he needs to become a borrower every time he’s at work!” The giant then turns to him with a thoughtful look. “Completely unrelated, have anything unbreakable and you wouldn’t mind if it accidentally got lost on you?”
Jeremy becomes frozen at the thought of giving something to such a massive being. Someone who could easily crush him like a bug, none the less an item that could be carried inside his own pocket. All he really has is his phone, and that will break the moment a giant so much as touches it.
...will he be grabbed if he doesn’t have anything to offer?
“I-I-I-I, I d-don't-” He cuts himself off as his hand wraps around the small pack of gum he had completely forgotten about. “W-W-Would gum suffice?”
Eggs leans over as he holds out the pack for inspection, making the human jump in surprise as the giant’s eyes widen, his pupils dilating as he locks onto something that, as small as it is to Jeremy, is absolutely miniscule to the person who can mistaken him for a stick of gum.
“Holy shit it’s tiny,” Eggs breathes, and Jeremy has to hold the pack tightly before it’s blown away from a sigh. “Can I hold it?”
Quickly shaking his head, he watches as a single finger approaches, stopping a foot away. Jeremy takes two steps closer to set the pack of gum he’s positive he’ll never see again in the middle of the giant’s fingerprint, backing away to let the giant do whatever he wants with the item.
Before Eggs can lift his hand up, it’s falling onto the tabletop.
“You dropped it,” James observes, making Jeremy leap a solid foot in the air at how close the doctor sounds. He jumps a second time when he turns to see James’ face only a few feet away as well as Mike’s, all three giants leaning closely to try and see the tiny object.
“I didn’t even do anything!” Eggs whispers.
“I-I-I think you breathed,” Jeremy says as he picks up the pack, hesitating at the open mouth his words earned.
“My breathing did that!”
“You a-a-are r-really big,” the human murmurs as he gives the pack back to Eggs. This time, there’s a distinct lack of the giant breathing as the pack is slowly, delicately pinched between two fingers.
Once it’s secured, Eggs lets out the breath he was holding, earning a glare as Jeremy fixes his curls. The giant is too focused to notice as he lifts the gum into the air, holding it directly up to one eye as he closes the other one. “It’s fucking miniscule. I can’t even count how many are left.”
“Think you can take one stick out?” James asks.
“Bet I can and you can’t,” the mechanic counters.
“You’re on.” The doctor sits up before turning his attention onto Jeremy, the human tensing from where he’s sat down in his chair, unable to help feeling slightly worried his table might get swiped away. “Mind if I ask why you wanted to sit closer to the door?”
Actually, he’d rather have his table stolen then answering the question. Not when he doesn’t want to admit he doesn’t trust his coworkers fully. Not all of them, though! Mike tends to grab instead of offer a hand, but he’s given Jeremy more reasons to trust his hand rather than cower from it.
And it’s not because Eggs or James are bad people! James was the one to properly introduce him to Fritz when he first assumed Jeremy had been brought into the restaurant by accident. Eggs installed a staircase on the side of the desk so Jeremy could get to the top on his own instead of needing to ask for someone’s help.
They’re just big. It’s hard to get past that when anything they do could hurt or kill him, even on accident.
...wait, he’s got a good reason he can use! “It’s hard for me to s-s-see things.”
James raises an eyebrow. “You’re near-sighted?”
He didn’t think this through properly. “You know wh-when it’s hard to see things at a distance, like they get f-fuzzy and out of focus?” The giant nods his massive head before opening his mouth in a silent ‘ah’. “The doors only a f-few f-f-feet away for you, but it’s about a m-mile away for me from here.”
“And past the door is yet another one to ten,” James muses. He hesitates before a smile spread across his face. “You couldn’t tell it was us this morning, could you?”
“I-I-I-I recognized your voices,” Jeremy murmurs as he curls into himself. “But n-no, I couldn’t see your face u-u-until you were in the office.”
James suddenly leans over as he gestures to the rest of the diner. “Where exactly does everything gets out of focus for you?”
Glancing past Mike’s arm, Jeremy looks across the vast distance between their table and the counter lined with empty stools. He glances at the menu with letters too close to properly tell them apart, but he can still tell what it is. Right where the window is for the cook to take orders and pass dishes through is where everything becomes too blurry to distinguished.
“Uh, r-right where the kitchen window is. That b-back wall.”
James follows where his arms is pointing. “That’s still an impressive distance. I’m assuming here is right when you started to see the door clearly, but we’re still five booths down.”
Mike blinks. “Damn, Jerber, you can’t see shit.”
“What can’t Jeremy see?” Eggs asks. “Fuck, it’s not coming out! James you try.”
“Jeremy actually has an impressive radius for when a room over a thousand times his size becomes incomprehensible,” the doctor replies as he offers a hand for the pack of gum to be carefully dropped into. “I’m sorry we never took it into account before.”
“I-I-It's okay!” Jeremy reassures. “It’s still easy to walk th-th-through the restaurant a-a-and d-down the street. I can tell wh-when someone’s across the room, I just c-c-can't make out details.”
“Huh,” Eggs muses as he folds his arms over the table. That’s when Jeremy realizes the mechanic is no longer distracted, James now carefully messing with the pack of gum he willingly sacrificed for their curiosity. Meaning he’s now the center of attention for a curious and unoccupied giant that can pick him up with two fingers. “Does that mean-?”
“Hey, sorry for the wait!”
As an unfamiliar giant appears at the end of the table, followed by a heavy thump that travels through his chair as something is placed on the table, Jeremy feels his entire body tense as he prepares to run. Because there’s a stranger looming above that can easily grab him, or brush him off the table, or crush him-
“Vanilla with caramel syrup for Eggs, strawberry for James doing the world’s smallest puzzle-”
“Taking a stick of gum out of a pack.”
“-tell me how well that works out for you, fries for Mike, and what was your name?”
Jeremy stares up at the semi familiar face. Remembers he saw her only a few minutes ago. The giant named Erin who promised she’d be able to give him a human sized chocolate shake. Who was careful as she set down everyone’s order, making sure not to reach directly over him and put something too close.
Who’s currently kneeling down so she can properly hear his answer.
“J-J-J-Jeremy,” he can’t help but stutter.
She only smiles. “Nice to meet you, Jeremy! I’m Erin if you didn’t hear before. Now would you like me to hand you your shake, or set it in the middle for you to grab? I can do either option, but I am a pro at serving human tables with multiple orders.”
Jeremy can’t help shaking his head at the second option. “I-I-In the middle, please.”
“You’ve got it,” Erin replies easily, seemingly pinching nothing as she moves her hand toward the middle of the table before removing it again to reveal a milkshake completely dwarfed by everything around it. “You four need anything else?”
“I’m good!”
“Water for Mike, please.”
“On it!”
The moment Erin walks away, Mike flips James off for the added order. “Fuck you, Snitches.”
Jeremy knows James replied, the air shaking like it always does whenever a giant is talking. But he doesn’t hear the words, unable to over the sound of Eggs pulling his shake closer as the glass scrapes against the table. Something that, if he did it with his own glass, he would barely notice the sound. But as it stands ten times his height, it’s all he can hear.
That’s not what has him frozen in complete terror. No, it’s the realization he agreed to eat with giants. Eat with someone who’s drink he can easily be dropped into and who’s fries he can be mistaken for.
He needs to leave before it’s too late.
“Here, Jerber.”
Jeremy nearly screams as a hand suddenly appears next to him, jerking away out of terror he’s about to be grabbed, ending up almost toppling off his chair. That's when another hand appears to keep him upright, leaving him trapped with nowhere to go.
...is that his milkshake?
In a daze, Jeremy reaches out to accept a glass that should’ve shattered the moment it was pinched between fingers powerful enough to crush him effortlessly. Yet he’s able to grab it to gently set it on his own table, the glass warm to the touch from being handled by not just one giant, but two. And there’s not a single drop of milkshake spilled over the side, not a hint of whipped creme missing, the cherry untouched from it’s spot on the very top.
He actually received a human sized milkshake made and carried by a giant.
“You good, Jer?” Eggs asks, offering a smile as Jeremy looks up at him. “You nearly fell out of your chair! Good thing I was here to save your life.”
Oh. He wasn’t being grabbed, he was being helped.
“Th-Th-Thanks,” comes out quietly, and directed at the milkshake he’s holding rather than the two he genuinely appreciates. Because now he doesn’t have to worry about being mistaken for a misplaced fry, or having to silently sit in pain after taking such a rough fall.
And yet he receives a cheerful “Anytime!” from Eggs, and a silent but gentle poke from Mike.
“Got it!” James suddenly announces, earning everyone’s attention as the doctor holds up something absolutely miniscule between his fingers. “Pay up, Benedict.”
“Hold on, show me how you did it!”
“It took a lot of maneuvering, and I’m pretty sure the stick is crushed beyond recognition,” the doctor replies. “But I didn’t hear any rules about it needing to be in perfect condition to count.”
“Mike that sounds like cheating!”
As the argument starts to sound more like thunder rather than actual words, Jeremy finds himself focusing back on his milkshake. The one that’s steadily growing colder to the touch as the ice cream easily overpowers his meager body heat compared to the previous giants who held it.
Carefully setting it down on his table, he hesitates once he realizes a straw or spoon hadn’t come with it. His eyes glance toward the middle of the table, a shiver racing up his spine as he spots the plate of fries several feet away. He quickly looks away to try and spot something miniscule on the ground, but he doesn’t see anything among the catastrophic limbs and massive dishes.
“Um-?”
“Hey don’t break it!”
“I’m not going to break it, you are!”
Jeremy quickly closes his mouth at the realization nothing he says will be heard over his coworkers, even if they are keeping their voices low. Which is something he should’ve expected since he is the only human out of the group, it was going to happen at some point where they would all talk together.
That’s slightly worrying, though. What if something was wrong and he needed to get their attention? Are they distracted enough that if someone knocked something over they wouldn’t pause their argument, or would they make sure the human sitting with them wasn’t hurt or in trouble? Have they completely forgotten about him?
“Just wait till PG hears about this,” Eggs grins, and Jeremy can’t help flinching as the giant's arm casts a shadow over him as something out of sight is reached for.
“Like Cawthon wouldn’t side with me,” James retorts as he accepts the offered straw from the mechanic.
And then Jeremy’s being offered one as he stares down the paper wrapping for something as tall as a building to him all the way up to Eggs’ expectant look. There’s a long moment as they watch each other, the human genuinely contemplating trying to accept the straw big enough to turn his entire milkshake into a single swallow before the giant blinks as realization sinks in.
“Well this won’t do at all!” the giant announces as he puts the straw down, turning toward the corner of the table Jeremy can’t see past the napkin dispenser. “Hold on, Jer, I think there’s mini napkins and straws back here.”
“Need help getting one?”
“Just because you managed to get a stick of gum doesn’t mean I can’t get a tiny straw!”
Jeremy straightens up at the reveal everything he could want was behind him the entire time. “I-I-I can get it-”
“You better not be doubting my skills either, Jer,” Eggs pouts as the giant’s brow furrows in concentration, making the human stay squarely in his seat to show he won’t be walking across the table until explicit permission is given. “I might not be as good as James who clearly cheats by being a doctor-”
“You make it sound like I’m a surgeon.”
“Fuck, you’re not?”
“-but I can pick up tiny things I barely see, too!”
Jeremy finds himself a bit awed by the sentiment. That even though a human sized straw is just as small as the stick of gum Eggs failed to grab out of the pack earlier, the giant is willing to still try. Still wants to learn to interact with something so miniscule it can be blown away with a single breath.
He’ll admit, he’s fairly sure any straw he’s given will be crushed and completely unusable, but he’s happy to wait patiently until Eggs either gives up or relents having a giant retrieve such a small and delicate thing isn’t the best idea. But it’s the thought that counts.
“While Benedict works hard at losing yet another bet,” James begins as he dips a fry into his shake. “How have you been liking Fazbear’s, Fitzgerald?”
Jeremy finds himself jolting at the question before going completely still as he’s forced to remember this morning Remember just how close he had been to losing. That if it was just a few more seconds, he wouldn’t be watching whip cream slowly melting into a milkshake waiting for him to eat it. And he has to do it again tonight or else risk getting fired for not showing up, or at the very least have his already meager paycheck missing a substantial amount of money he needs to pay his rent this month.
“It’s okay,” comes out much softer than he intended.
Suddenly, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, making him look up before he squeaks at the sight of a fry being carefully placed on his table. It’s not a whole fry, just a small piece that’s been torn off, but it’s bigger than his arm and he swears it melts his milkshake just a little more as warm steam rises from it.
Slightly confused, he follows the fingers up to Mike watching him closely. “Bad night?”
Yes. A very bad one.
“Oh I hate those,” Eggs chimes in with a groan. “The ones where everything goes wrong, and you’re apparently too slow even though you’re doing it all exactly how you did it yesterday.”
Jeremy straightens up slightly, hopefully. “Y-You get them t-t-too?”
“We all do, fucker,” Mike replies with a shrug, one that effectively shrugs off the weight sitting on Jeremy’s own shoulders. “Comes with the job. Sometimes the assholes are quicker than usual because someone fucked with shit they shouldn’t have.”
“Remember when Fritz was told to increase everyone’s speeds?” the mechanic asks as he pauses his attempt to get a straw, leaning over the table as he props his cheek on a fist. “He was so confused and tried to ask why, but the manager said ‘don’t ask, just do’, and that was when Mike almost got fired for damaging the animatronics!”
Someone can increase their speed?
“I’m sorry, why did you damage the animatronics?” James asks, sounding both confused and amused, as if he doesn’t realize just how terrifying the idea of them getting quicker is.
“The fuckers were asking for it.”
“I second that, every animatronic deserves a metal pipe to the face!”
Jeremy slightly disagrees. Despite the fact they actively try to murder him every night, he doesn’t think they deserve to be damaged. Locked on stage all night, have their speed turned down, maybe put a lock on Marionette’s box so he can’t come out, that he agrees with. It would just make things more fair in his opinion, especially because he’s fairly sure the music box doesn’t actually wind up properly whenever he stands on the button, always having a heart stopping delay the times where he reaches it right at the last second.
But he can’t say he blames Mike for taking a more violent approach after it sounded like he almost lost the game himself. Almost lost, and had to defend himself using whatever he could find on hand.
...wait a minute. “You f-f-f-fought them?”
“And won,” Mike smiles, clearly proud of such an accomplishment, and Jeremy can’t help but agree. “Fazfuck was pissed for the rest of the goddamn week, and they hid everything they thought could be used as a weapon.”
“That’s why you greeted me with a vacuum one morning?” James asks.
“Purple was talking shit.”
The doctor’s expression morphs into confusion as he glances over at Eggs and Jeremy, as if waiting for someone to explain what Mike meant. When he only receives two nods, one thoughtful and one empathetic, he turns to Mike with genuine curiosity. “I think I’d like to sit with you on one of your shifts.”
“No you don’t,” Eggs and Jeremy say together, though one is spoken with amusement while the other is out of genuine concern for the doctor having no idea what he’d be getting himself into.
“Trust me, James, leave the nightshift to the professionals,” the mechanic continues before turning back to the straws. “We don’t need some doctor distracting us from our work, right Jer?”
Jeremy stares up at the giant with wide eyes, unsure how to respond. Not when he was just named as a professional when it comes to the night shift. Even though he’s never had a job previous to this. Never was taught how to be a security guard before coming to Fazbear’s. And he nearly lost after only a month.
Although, apparently that’s something even Mike has faced, the man who trained Jeremy and knew every tip and trick to surviving having bad enough nights where he had to resort to fighting the animatronics. But Jeremy wouldn’t be able to fight even if he was able to find the will power to do such a thing. Even if he tried to run, to hide, he’d be found and grabbed in seconds.
He doesn’t deserve the title of ‘professional’. Not when he was mistakenly hired. Not when Scott hadn’t realized he gave the position to a human until it was too late.
“I don’t th-th-think I’d do better th-than J-J-James,” he quietly admits. And to be honest, the doctor might actually be better at surviving the night than he could ever be.
Eggs pauses midbite on a fry that seemingly appeared in his grasp. “That’s not what Mike told us.”
“He wouldn’t stop talking about how well you handled your first day,” James chimes in. “He said it was like you’ve done it before.”
Mike said that? He talked about Jeremy and how well he handled his first shift? Even when he was almost too scared to move, took too long to figure out how to turn on a flashlight as big as a bus, and had to jump on the buttons of the tablet just to select another camera only to scream and trip over his own feet when the screen showed nothing but the haunting eyes of an animatronic?
The man who the animatronics were genuinely afraid of thought Jeremy deserved to be praised for his first shift? To coworkers he was yet to meet and who might not’ve even had him as a coworker by the end of the week?
A finger gently poking him to earn his attention as Mike smirks down at him says yes. “I was so fucking happy Phone Guy finally found someone to watch the second location. They could finally stop bitching at me every time I did a shift there and ruin everyone’s goddamn week.”
Jeremy looks down at his hands as he wrings them together in shame. “E-Even if I almost l-l-lost today?”
He flinches at his own words, because the last thing he wants to do is tell Mike he was wrong and make him regret ever taking the time and effort to train Jeremy. Because now that the giant knows Jeremy wasn’t worth it, made everyone waste their time and hope on him...he’s going to lose the one person in his life who genuinely thinks he’s good at something else other than always messing everything up.
But Mike deserves to know. Deserves to be told he was tricked into thinking someone like Jeremy, a human working a job meant for a giant, was ever good enough to be relied on, none the less praised.
“Jerber,” rumbles above him like an omen. “You’re goddamn tiny.”
Jeremy lifts his head up to meet Mike’s gaze, admittedly thrown off by how serious the giant looks. As if he’s revealing something that was a closely guarded secret rather than an obvious observation. “Um, y-yeah?”
The giant gives a hard stare. “It’s badass as hell.”
Oh, oh. It's a compliment. A compliment, as well as a reveal that even though Jeremy feels like a frightened mouse blindly running around a desk every night, Mike doesn’t see it that way. He just sees how much work is put into reacting to everything that happens during a shift, the effort required just to turn on a flashlight and wind a music box.
...oh. Maybe he has earned a little credit.
“We’ve actually been really curious,” Eggs muses. “Have you worked at a giant only location before? Because you seem to know how to get around really well.”
Jeremy curls into himself at something that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’ll take the compliment from Mike who’s actually seen him working a shift, but Eggs has only met him a handful of times before this, and none of them have seen just how bad he is when he’s on the floor while multiple giants are walking around. Only Fritz has been around to rescue him off the ground when he’s gotten a little too close to being stepped on, but it sounds like the younger giant isn’t one to spread rumors. “This is my f-f-first job.”
“Shit-”
“Wait-”
“Hold on-” is all spoken at once as all three giants become a collective booming overhead, making Jeremy’s shoulders hitch up in a poor attempt to cover his ears.
And then Eggs is suddenly leaning down, getting so close Jeremy squeaks as he curls up in his chair as the giant’s nose stops only an arm’s length away. “First job as in ever? How old are you?”
“E-E-Eighteen,” is answered before he can think it over, slightly worried why his original answer had received such a response and hoping the quicker he answers this question, the quicker such a massive being to gives him a bit more space.
Instead, eyes bigger than his head widen as Eggs’ mouth drops open slightly. Then the giant is shoved away a few inches so James can lean in as the doctor’s eyes narrow. “Dude he’s a baby!”
“Correct term is teenager,” James replies before Jeremy can protest and say he’s a young adult. One who pays his own bills and survives against murderous animatronics, meaning he’s neither a baby nor a teenager. “I assumed he was young, but I hadn’t realized he was barely older than Smith.”
Jeremy turns to climb out of his chair opposite of the giants much too close for comfort as every word makes his hair ruffle. He becomes frozen in place when he’s greeted by none other than Mike leaning in as well, the giant he’s most familiar with and has been the most respectful of his space so close the brim of his hat blocks out the overhead lights.
“Well I can’t see shit,” Eggs announces with a pout. “Can we pass you around for sec, Jer?”
A shiver of fear races up his spine. “P-P-P-Pass me around?”
“Benedict means to ask if you would mind if we each held you for a moment,” James clarifies with a small smile, though it’s much too close for comfort. “We just want a closer look at you.”
“My bet is that your eyes are blue.”
“I’m voting hazel.”
They’re guessing his eye color? Why are they guessing, can’t they see-?
Jeremy freezes as it finally clicks. That even though it’s easy for him to see Eggs’ blue eyes and his Cheshire grin, or James’ brown eyes and his soft expressions, or Mike’s blue eyes and his small smirks, they’ve never had the chance to get a proper look at him. That’s why they’re so close, because they want to see him.
“...will you be c-careful?” he attempts to ask sternly, but it comes out more like a plea.
Eggs immediately leans back slightly as he nods. “Pinky promise!”
“Scout’s honor.”
“Promise.”
Jeremy slowly nods his own head. “O-O-Okay.”
He didn’t know what to expect, but considering he gave explicit permission to be held, he should’ve realized he was going to be grabbed. Yet as everyone leans back and he’s greeted by the sight of pinching fingers, he doesn’t realize they’re meant for him until they’re locking around his chest.
He doesn’t get a chance to ask for a more secure hold before he’s being lifted up, his stomach left far behind as he watches the ground shrink beneath his dangling legs, vertigo making his head spin as he curls into himself as he pleads not to be dropped please don’t drop him.
“You’re tiny, Jer,” makes Jeremy’s eyes snap up to meet Eggs’, squeaking when all he can see is a single blue orb as a pupil contracts and makes the color explode in front of him. “I think you’re a little smaller than my thumb.”
The human blinks at the comparison before glancing down at his own thumb. Feels his heart skip a beat as he sees just how much his other fingers tower over it. How he can easily hold his hand around it to lock it inside a fist.
That’s when his eyes skate over Eggs’ own thumb pressed against his side, the fingerprint bigger than his entire hand. “O-Oh.”
The eye in front of him crinkles slightly. “Have we put you in a pocket before?”
Jeremy quickly shakes his head. “I’d rather n-n-not.”
Even though he can’t see it happen, he feels Eggs shrugs, unable to breathe for a good moment at the feeling of falling for a brief moment. “I think I’d like to try out a pocket. Sounds like a great place to take a nap.”
“Schmidt and I will let you try ours if you’re ever pocketable,” James says somewhere to his left. “So who guessed his eye color right?”
“They’re like a dull blue,” Eggs murmurs as his eyes narrow. “I think I need a second opinion, though.”
...couldn’t they have just asked what his eye color is?
Jeremy opens his mouth to offer an answer, only for his voice to be stolen as the fingers around his chest tighten before he’s being moved through the air, the quick movement making his stomach twist and his limbs feel like they’re being pulled by gravity. He can only try and curl up into a ball, his arms covering his head as he waits for everything to stop.
When it does, he’s suddenly let go, screaming as he falls onto something warm and alive.
“You alright, Jeremy?” James’ voice rumbles above in time with the ground shaking, something he’s all too familiar with from sitting in Mike’s hand as he talks.
Quickly sitting up, Jeremy looks over at Eggs watching with fascination from where he sits several feet away, both of his hands empty as they wrap around his shake. Realizes when they asked to pass him around, they meant it literally.
And now he’s being held by a doctor.
“I-I-I'm fine!” Jeremy reassures as he turns toward James hovering directly above him. Fearful glances are sent toward the fingers surrounding him that can close at any second, or at the very least pin him down so it’s easier to check him over for injuries. “I was just s-surprised!”
A smile appears. “I believe you when you say you’re uninjured. It’s Schmidt who I pin down to make sure he isn’t secretly bleeding out.”
“Fuck you, Snitches.”
Jeremy doesn’t ask just how true such a statement is, not really wanting to know just how many times Mike has apparently almost bled out. Without a question to answer, however, James takes it as permission to have his own turn figuring out Jeremy’s eye color. Makes the human tense as a thumb suddenly settles over his chest before he’s lifted directly in front of the giant’s eyes as they almost cross.
“How tall are you?”
Jeremy hesitates, admittedly caught off guard. “F-F-Five f-foot ten.”
“Holy shit you’re taller than Fritz!”
“I am?” he asks in disbelief.
“You’d actually have quite a few inches on him,” the doctor smiles, the expression slightly visible from where Jeremy’s held, clearly amused by the revelation of a human technically being taller than a giant. “You’re actually the same height as Benedict and Schmidt, so next time you see them standing next to Smith, you’ll get a good visual.”
“Oh we’re definitely showing Jeremy later.”
“Can we shrink the asshole instead?”
He would rather not have Fritz shrunken just so they can compare how tall they are to each other. He can only imagine how terrifying it would be for the younger, and if the others are grabby with Jeremy then they would be just as if not more with someone they’re more familiar with and who isn’t the type of person too polite to tell others no.
But it will never happen, just like how he will never grow to properly sit at his desk while working the nightshift.
“Just don’t shrink anyone without Cawthon’s permission,” and now Jeremy’s genuinely concerned he might be greeting Fritz on the same scale next week.
Suddenly, the hand he’s sitting in curls around him, a squeak escaping out of fear he’s about to be locked in a fist as it starts to move. He shoves at the thumb on his chest, sighing in relief as it immediately lifts away, letting him sit up to try and see between the fingers and know where he’s being taken.
After a few seconds, the hand opens to reveal Mike smirking down at him. “Was that a little better, Jeremy? Less feeling like you’ll fall?”
Turning around, his eyes widen at James’ worried look. “Oh, yeah, th-thank you.”
“Woah, hey, is James one uping my holding technique!”
“I don’t think yours can be considered a technique.”
Jeremy quickly stands up to walk across James’ fingers into Mike’s waiting hand, his heart pounding at the thought of the doctor and mechanic getting into a heated debate while he’s still in the former’s grasp.
“We’re shrinking James to prove my technique!”
“We could just ask Fritzgerald.”
“We’re shrinking James!”
Jeremy screams as he trips while stepping into Mike’s hand, curling into a ball as his heart skips a beat thinking he’s going to fall no one will be able to catch him he’s going to fall.
He doesn’t meet the unforgiving table waiting below, instead tumbling right into the middle of the waiting hand. One that immediately turns against him the moment he slides to a stop, fingers curling around him as a thumb pins his chest. Then he’s being lifted up directly in front of Mike’s searching gaze as he reminded he shouldn’t have been worried about James being adamant on checking him for injuries.
He holds his breath as he’s lifted inches away from Mike’s face as the giant looks him over. “They’re grey.”
“Damn it!”
“That’s considered hazel!”
Jeremy winces as he’s lifted up as the giant shrugs. “I think they were both goddamn wrong. What do you think, Jerber?”
The human looks down at the fist surrounding him. Looks back at the towering being that could easily drop or crush him. Hears the other two waiting patiently for his response. He can’t seem to find any words, but he nods in agreement, earning a smirk from Mike as Eggs and James groan somewhere behind him.
Suddenly, the hand opens as he lands in the palm in a heap. His first attempt to sit up is foiled by a finger nudging his arm before poking at his leg as he instinctively pulls them close. And then one is gently brushing over his hair.
“H-H-Hey!” Jeremy snaps as he shields his head with one arm, the other batting at the retreating digit. “No touching my h-hair!”
“Sorry, Jerber,” Mike chuckles. “It’s so goddamn soft, though.”
“Because I spend f-f-forever taking care of it,” he scolds. Once there’s no more fingers threatening to touch his precious curls, he carefully brushes them back into their proper places. “You can ruffle Fritz’s hair.”
The giant brightens. “Deal.”
Jeremy squeaks as the hand suddenly drops, quickly grabbing onto the nearest finger to make sure he doesn’t get thrown over the side of the hand. When it stops, he’s greeted with the sight of his milkshake waiting for him, along with the fry he was given earlier and a straw his own size sitting directly beside it.
His eyes snap up to Eggs to see the mechanic pouting. “James helped me get you one.”
“Th-Th-Thank you!” is directed to both giants as he excitedly climbs out of Mike’s hand. Because he came all this way for the promised treat, and he’ll finally be able to eat it. Not that he minded waiting, but he has definitely earned it.
“So when are we shrinking Fritz?”
Jeremy ignores the conversation rumbling above him, taking his seat before inspecting the straw to see if it got crushed at any point. Aside from a slight bend, it looks completely unharmed. He could take the opportunity to quickly grab one himself from the corner, but he wouldn’t want to take away all the effort spent to get him one straw. Effort that was made even though they could have made him retrieve one himself.
Placing it in the middle of the melted shake, the moment he takes a sip is the moment he doesn’t think he can stop.
“Hey Jer, have you heard about The Restless And The Immortal?”
Jeremy shakes his head without pausing his mission to make the greatest milkshake he’s ever tasted vanish as quickly as possible.
“Okay, so! There’s this vampire named Vlad, and-!”
He watches as Mike puts a fry into James milkshake for the doctor to eat before passing a fry to Eggs for the mechanic to eat between words. The giant glances toward the one still sitting on Jeremy’s table before eating one himself.
No one tires to interrupt Eggs’ spiel of the soap opera despite being up to date already, and Jeremy finds himself becoming invested.
It’s nice. Even though Eggs’ arm waving makes him flinch every now and then. Even as the entire table shakes as Mike beats James in an arm wrestle that lasts all of one second. Even as the diner starts to get too loud for his ears as more giants come in as they bang dishes together and speak in loud volume.
Maybe he’ll be able to hear what happens next when he joins the three next week.
The times when you felt small, when you wished you were bigger, they’re just brief moments, even if Scott has them more often than not.
He never wanted to actually shrink down a few inches. He also hates the thought of suddenly growing ten feet tall, even if it would be helpful at times.
No one ever asks about what you want, though.
Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of violence. Mentions of storms, someone getting struck by lightning. Mentions of death, fatal scenarios. Mentions of dehumanization
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“Well good news,” Vincent begins as he snags the last bit of green onions to throw into the simmering pot, forcing himself to stay focused on what’s in front of him instead of the absolutely minuscule figuring sitting only an arm’s length away. A distance that feels too close, and yet too far away, but he has a feeling waking up tiny for the first time inside someone’s hand wouldn’t be the best way to be introduced to suddenly becoming only two inches tall.
Going based on just how still Scott became as if waiting for a hand to smack him like a gnat the moment Vincent looked over at him, he made the right choice setting his best friend on a folded tissue on the kitchen counter rather than giving into the urge to put him inside a pocket.
There will be a pocket Scotty in the near future, though.
“You didn’t sleep too long,” Vincent continues, careful to keep his voice low as he mindlessly stirs. “I was kind of expecting you to be out for the rest of the day, but it’s only been about two hours, so I’d consider that’s pretty good all considering.”
All considering the fact his best friend got struck by lightning, and it’s all Vincent’s fault.
If he just hadn’t been selfish, hadn’t put Scott in a situation he knew his brothers would take advantage of, hadn’t been so hypocritical and allowed one of the few rules he has always been adamant on being followed to be broken, then his best friend wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Wouldn’t be paying for Vincent’s own mistakes.
It should be him sitting on the counter surrounded by a house a hundred times his size, not Scott.
There’s nothing he can do about it now, though. Can’t go back in time to make things right. What he can do is work hard to help fix the damage done, and hope that one day he just might earn the chance to ask for forgiveness.
Looking back toward Scott now that the shrunken teenager has been given a few moments to properly absorb everything, Vincent offers a small smile, careful to keep his fascination from being too obvious. “How are you feel-?”
Vincent freezes as his eyes lock onto the neatly folded tissue completely empty of tiny figures no taller than his thumb.
“...Scotty?”
As much as he tries to, there’s no stopping a warble of panic in his voice. He quickly scans the kitchen counter for any sign of where Scott could have gone, glancing at the space next to the stove to see if his best friend had decided to get closer, searching the wall in case he wanted to have a bigger distance away from the edge. Vincent finds nothing, not even a flicker of movement or a small shadow.
He lost Scott.
Quickly turning off the stove, he picks up the pot of soup to move it onto another burner, only barely stopping himself before setting it down to check and make sure no tiny figures ended up on the stove. Only when he confirms there isn’t a cowering shrunken teenager does he delicately set it down before turning to the last place he saw Scott.
Reaching out to gently nudge at the tissue, he checks to see if there are any living miniatures hiding in the poor excuse for a bed, only to literally come up empty handed. “Where’d ya go, Scotty?”
He stands perfectly still as he carefully listens for a response, because as quiet as his best friend is, he always responds to Vincent when it’s just the two around. Granted, one of them has never been tiny before, but that wouldn’t change anything. It’s still Scott who trusts Vincent wholeheartedly even if he lost five feet of height. It’s still Vincent who promised to be at Scott’s side through thick and thin.
Even though he hasn’t heard Scott speak yet and doesn’t know just how quiet he is now that he’s pocket sized, with how silent the kitchen currently is Vincent's positive he would’ve been able to pick up even a faint murmur of a response. And as more time passes without so much as a squeak, it slowly dawns on him that Scott is hiding. Then it clicks.
He’s hiding from me.
A sharp pain hits his heart at the realization Scott is scared of him. He had thought the terror when his best friend woke up was just a general fear of the situation. Who wouldn’t be terrified at suddenly waking up small enough to be held in someone’s hand. Vincent would be genuinely afraid of what exactly his brothers would do if he suddenly became handheld.
He never imagined Scott would be afraid of him. He's supposed to be the one person Scott can rely on no matter what happens. And now he’s the reason why his very small and very vulnerable best friend is lost and capable of accidentally getting crushed or falling from a mile high cliff.
At the thought of Scott getting hurt because he was running from Vincent, he nearly reaches toward the few items scattered along the counter, catching himself with a mental slap on the wrist thinking that would be a good idea. Not when the person he's looking for is so small and could easily be hurt just by him moving the flour container in the wrong direction or by a spatula falling out of the holder after being picked up. Does he want to terrorize his best friend even further by hunting him down?
How to coax a frightened Scott out of hiding when he’s the issue...
He hesitates for a moment before slowly kneeling down until he’s eyelevel with the counter. Looking at his hands that were able to hold Scott in a fist, he contemplates putting them out of sight, flipping the pros and cons in his mind before settling on folding his arms over the counter as a resting place for his chin. This way they can’t suddenly lunge at Scott, but they can quickly snag him if necessary.
“Scotty,” comes out in a breathless whisper. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
The silence stretches on for a long moment. There’s no quiet yells or small figures peeking out from their hiding spot. Vincent’s not too certain, but he’s fairly sure that at only two inches tall Scott couldn’t have gotten too far while he wasn’t looking.
“You’re not hurt, are ya?”
His eyes flicker between their utensil holder, the containers for sugar and flour, the toaster, a few jars of spices. He tries to see anything out of place, maybe even a microscopic shoe sticking out, or a sliver of color. He doesn’t see any movement, though, doesn’t hear a single sound. It’s impossible to tell if a shadow is out of place when someone as small as Scott is would blend in with the one made by whatever he’s hiding behind.
“Are you scared of me?”
He couldn’t help it. As much as he knows it’s going to hurt if the answer is yes, he needs to know if he genuinely terrifies Scott, or if his best friend is just scared of being tiny as a whole. Being scared of a world that towers above him is something they can handle. Being scared one the only person he trusts means they need to solve that before tackling everything else.
The silence is stifling as he waits for an answer. And suddenly, there’s movement, enough for his eyes to immediately lock onto it as something peers out from behind the container of sugar.
Vincent has to restrain himself from reaching a hand out the moment he sees microscopic tears on Scott’s face, wanting to do nothing more than to pull his best friend close as the tiny figure trembles from undeniable terror.
“I-I-Is that you, Vince?”
Scott’s voice is so soft it takes him a moment to process the words. But the moment it does, he heart breaks at the same time relief floods through him. “It’s me, Scotty.”
He struggles to keep a straight face as the absolutely miniscule face fights between looking hopeful and staying hesitant. “You promise you’re not a d-d-demon?”
Vincent can’t help giving a flat look once he realizes what’s been going through his best friend’s head this entire time. “Scotty, we talked about this. If anyone deserves to go to heaven, it’d be you.”
It’s adorable how the tiny shoulders slump as Scott stares down at his feet. “Y-You were just...I didn’t w-want to believe it was you...”
The distinct tremble in his best friend’s voice sobers Vincent up immediately. As much as he has genuinely enjoyed having Scott small enough to hold in one hand, he knows this can’t be taken lightly. Shouldn’t be. His best friend got struck by lightning, and even though he thanks something for not letting it end in death, being shrunk is a death sentence in itself.
His brothers admitted to almost leaving Scott behind after they saw him get hit. There was the possibility Daniel never managed to find him and unknowingly left Scott in the storm. Walking back home there were numerous instances where Vincent could have dropped him, tripped and clenched his hand too tightly, pick the wrong path and walk under the wrong tree at the wrong time as lightning struck it.
Scott made it safely to the Wright house, and yet he was lost within a single minute while on a counter Vincent was standing right next to. How easy would it for him to get lost while on the floor, with other people around. How easy it is for him to get hurt from someone stomping their foot, or putting something down without looking, or mistaking him for a bug. How easy would it be to treat him like a mindless animal and trap him inside a jar or a cage either due to malicious intent on keeping him as a prized oddity or under the well meant intentions of keeping him safe.
Vincent tilts his head to try and meet Scott’s eyes, the movement startling the tiny figure as he stared at with trepidation. “Nothing’s changed, Scotty. I know I’m big to you, but it’s still me, we’re still best friends. We’ll figure this out together.”
Scott stares at him with shinning eyes. “You swear?”
“I promise.”
The moment the words are out of his mouth, Scott runs out from his hiding spot and straight toward Vincent, the tiny figure darting across the counter as miniscule legs cross a seemingly vast distance that in reality is only a single foot.
It would take Vincent all of a single second to grab Scott and put him exactly where he wants to go while barely using any effort. But he doesn’t, waiting patiently for his best friend even though it takes a full minute, admiring the effort being used and just how small Scott is in comparison to something as simple as counterspace.
He can’t help a small smile when his best friend climbs up him, so small he needs to clamber up the hill Vincent’s arms form just to reach his face. But once he does, he all put throws himself at Vincent’s face, delicate arms clinging to his cheek in a hug that he oh so carefully leans into.
At the sound of quiet sobs, Vincent lifts his right hand that had been tucked under his left arm, freezing the moment he feels Scott tense up, not moving until the miniscule muscles relax again before gently cupping his hand over his best friend to complete the hug.
“I’ve got you, Scotty.”
And that’s a promise, one that he meant in a literal sense and intends to keep no matter how much the tiny thing squirms.
The times when you felt small, when you wished you were bigger, they’re just brief moments, even if Scott has them more often than not.
He never wanted to actually shrink down a few inches. He also hates the thought of suddenly growing ten feet tall, even if it would be helpful at times.
No one ever asks about what you want, though.
Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of violence. Mentions of storms, someone getting struck by lightning. Mentions of assuming to be dead, being sent to heaven or hell
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Scott wakes up to someone humming.
He tenses up for a brief moment, confused and unable to shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Listening to the sound of a stove being turned on, something being dropped into liquid, a cabinet quietly being shut, his panic slowly melts away as his heart stops thumping painfully against his chest.
Finally he recognizes the humming as Vincent’s, slumping with a sigh of relief knowing his best friend is close by and watching over him.
At the reassurance he’s somewhere safe, he tries to pull the blanket over his head to block out the harsh sunlight with the want to go back to sleep. Because for some reason, it almost feels like he got hit in the chest with a baseball. Like all of him got pummeled by baseballs even though the brothers promised that he wouldn’t be.
Scott’s nose wrinkles when the blanket doesn’t move, wincing when it almost seems to pull back, making his sore muscles throb painfully. Grabbing a handful of it, he yanks it with as much strength as he can, hissing when he only manages to nearly hit his face with his own fist when it doesn’t budge an inch. Giving up on the blanket, the teenager turns to burry his face into his pillow as he curls up into a tight ball, a shiver running up his spine as a cold breeze ruffles his hair.
He can’t remember another time when he was really cold while at the Wright house. Even though the brothers are always complaining it’s too hot even during the fall, it will never be as cold as Scott’s own house that consistently stays 68 degrees no matter what season it is. Vincent has commented that even he doesn’t it like it that cold even in the summer, but Scott has gotten used to it. He doesn’t find it comfortable, but he can’t exactly change it since it’s locked with the only key always in his father’s pocket.
...is he home?
A spike of fear suddenly races through him at the thought of Vincent taking him home instead of to the Wright residence, because if his best friend thought it was necessary, then something bad happened.
What did happen? The last thing he remembers is all of the brothers, no, everyone but Vincent going outside to play baseball and bringing Scott with them. Because they wanted to play before the storm started, and he went along to make sure they all got back inside in time.
Except they never went inside. They tried to teach Scott how to play, lost their only ball, and while they were searching...
Scott’s eyes fly open as he sits straight up, his chest heaving as he remembers the catastrophic boom of thunder before everything went dark. Looking directly above him, he takes a stuttering breath at seeing a proper ceiling instead of angry clouds looming overhead. Feels himself begin to tremble as he slowly realizes...he had been struck by lightning.
Am I in heaven?
His hands carefully pat himself down as he tries to determine if he’s dead or not. Because he feels alive as his heart pounds against his chest and his lungs burn as he gasps for air, but no one has been able to tell him how heaven is supposed to feel like. Maybe you feel exactly the way you did when you were alive. Or maybe his parents were right and he strayed too far from God and instead wound up in hell.
Scott hugs his knees as he tries to take deep breaths, closing his eyes as he focuses on the fact he’s breathing, he didn’t find any bleeding wounds, he’s okay. Because even though he doesn’t know what the two are really like, there seems to be too much pain for it to be heaven, and too little pain for it to be hell. Which means he’s still on Earth and should thank God for letting him live.
Scott immediately moves to do just that, only pausing when his feet seem to get tangled in the blanket bunched around him. Reaching out to carefully move it away, he hesitates out of confusion when he realizes he doesn’t recognize it. It doesn’t look like any of his mother’s special furs from home, or like any of quilts Vincent throws onto everyone who falls asleep anywhere except in their own beds that can be found at the Wright house. It does look familiar, but he can’t place the white sheet that looks thin enough to tear, and yet it refused to move when he pulled on it earlier.
Slightly worried he might actually be dead, he turns to look at his pillow, freezing at the sight of the same material waiting for him to lie back down. Not a cashmere decorative throw his mother would punish him for ruining by sleeping on it, not a worn out pillow that’s long since needed to be replaced. Just a flat, solid square made of something that looks too delicate to be as comfortable as it was to sleep on.
Where am I?
His answer is the ground suddenly quaking, the teenager silently yelping as he quickly covers his head out of fear it was lightning hitting too close for comfort. When nothing else happens and thunder doesn’t boom overhead, he carefully peeks past his arms to try and find the source.
His eyes lock onto something a few feet away. Something that he almost mistaken’s for a building the way it casts a shadow over him. Except buildings aren’t round, or have a lid on top, or have the same grey and white triangle pattern as the flour container Vincent has for his kitchen at his house.
Scott stares at it for a full minute as he waits for it to disappear, or for his eyes to adjust and turn it into something else. But it doesn’t go away, and the longer he looks at it, the more he starts to think he isn’t dreaming.
Slowly, Scott’s eyes look past the flour container, his entire body shaking as he takes in the sight of another familiar container, this time with dozens of utensils sticking out of it. All of them are giant, big enough to be used to scoop him out of a pot of soup, meant to be used by someone big enough to hold him in a hand.
Suddenly, there is a hand as it grabs one of the spoons, Scott‘s eyes growing wide with terror at the realization there’s a giant nearby.
Holding his breath to stay as quiet as possible in the hopes it doesn’t notice him please don’t notice him, he watches as the hand takes the spoon and puts it inside a pot as tall as a skyscraper in order to stir whatever is inside. Stares as it stirs, his whole body shaking as he prays the hand doesn’t come back.
And then the feeling of being watches crawls up his back like a dozen spiders.
“Hey, Scotty, finally awake?”
Scott goes completely still, his trembles stopping in an instant at the rumbling voice that shakes the very air. A voice that, even though it’s louder than ringing church bells, is all too familiar.
His eyes carefully follow the stirring hand, up the arm of a catastrophic being that could make him an ingredient in the meal they’re making, all the way to amber eyes and a lopsided smile he would know from anywhere.
Except he doesn’t this time. It might sound like Vincent, it may look like Vincent, but it isn’t Vincent. His best friend isn’t a giant who could crush him with a hand like a bug.
Meaning the moment it looks away to check on whatever is being stirred, Scott stumbles to his feet before sprinting toward the nearest thing he can hide behind, a hand stuck firmly around his mouth in a desperate attempt to silence his sobs.
The times when you felt small, when you wished you were bigger, they’re just brief moments, even if Scott has them more often than not.
He never wanted to actually shrink down a few inchesHe also hates the thought of suddenly growing ten feet tall, even if it would be helpful at times.
No one ever asks about what you want, though.
Content Warnings: Cursing. Peer pressure. Mentions of violence. Mentions of storms, someone getting struck by lightning. Assuming someone's dead, mentions of leaving someone for dead
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“Scott!”
Daniel stands frozen in place as he waits for a response. Because they’ve been outside dozens of times during a storm, have ran through the woods in rain with thunder booming overhead, and not once have they almost gotten struck by lightning, not even while standing underneath one of the tallest trees.
Which means he couldn’t have just seen Scott get struck by lightning. It either hit the ground near him, or had gotten close but never made contact with the ground. It was just his imagination seeing the younger almost glow for a split second. The distinct look of terror before he seemingly vanished into thin air was just Scott ducking down into the tall grass out of fear the next strike might be an even closer one.
They didn’t just get Vincent’s best friend killed.
Shit.
“Scott!” he yells again, taking a few steps forward before stopping as thunder rumbles above. A shiver races up his spine at the thought of lightning striking close to them again, everything screaming at him to run as his hair stands on end from the charged up static the storm is making. “Scott!”
“Holy shit,” Anthony murmurs from behind, his voice shaking. “Holy shit is he dead?”
“He just got struck by lightning!” Jonathan quietly exclaims before Daniel can answer. “Of course he’s dead!”
“He’s not dead,” the older snaps as he turns to look at his brothers. He sees just how shaken up Anthony is, the youngest holding his head as he stares wide eyed at the meadow. Jonathan is trying to act like this isn’t bothering him, but it’s clear just how scared he is as he carefully stands perfectly in the middle between two trees. “We don’t even know if he actually got hit.”
Jonathan sputters before angrily gesturing toward the meadow, toward the spot they last saw Scott, and now that Daniel looks closely he can see a small pillar of smoke rising from where the kid had just been standing. “I think we all know that he got hit. We all saw him get fucking incinerated!”
“Holy shit,” Anthony whispers as he takes several steps back as if physically struck by the words. “Holy shit that could have been us.”
“It is going to be us if we don’t go home now!”
...it could have been them. And it can happen again. Lightning could strike again, and it could strike one of the trees right next to them, or strike between the trees, or even multiple bolts at once so they’re all struck at the same time.
Suddenly, thunder rumbles overhead, almost like a warning, and both of his brothers tense like frightened deer about to run onto the street.
“Calm down,” Daniel gently commands as he holds his hands out toward his brothers to keep them from sprinting back home and running through the meadow that clearly isn’t safe. “Both of you, take a deep breath.”
Anthony immediately obeys, his youngest brother taking stuttering breathes as he closes his eyes shut. Jonathan takes a moment to look Daniel up and down, his eyes narrowing at just how much the older is trembling, but even as he scowls he takes a breath as his shoulders slump down. For his own part, Daniel also takes in a deep breath as he clenches his fits to try and stop them from shaking.
It’s humbling to see for themselves why Vincent is always so concerned for the most trivial things. They constantly complain about their brother’s mother Henning, especially when one of them is sick with nothing but a cold. Aways checking them for injuries after they wrestled even though it’s the sixth time that day. Barking at Anthony to not climb over twenty feet above the ground, glaring at Jonathan every time he tries out a new trick, sighing in disappointment when Daniel not only encourages but joins in on dares that will most likely end with someone breaking a bone.
Telling them to never go outside during a storm.
Despite the genuine terror of getting struck by lighting himself, of anyone else getting struck, Daniel manages to wrestle his panic down so he can actually think. And now that they’re not focused on what they saw, no one looks like they’re about to bolt at any second.
Which is great news. It means he won’t be tempted to follow them back home without Scott if they were to suddenly take off. Because there’s a small possibility Scott didn’t get struck and is just too scared to move, and even if he did get struck there also might be a chance to get him to the hospital in time. Not a great one, but a much better one then if they left and couldn’t come back to get him until the storm clears.
It also means that as long as they check before going back to Vincent without Scott, their brother might find it in his heart to forgive them for letting it happen.
Shaking his head to clear the morbid thought, he looks between his younger brothers. From Jonathan who looks more resigned than anything, to Anthony who looks like he’s barely holding back tears as he stares up at Daniel in a silent plea to get them home safely.
That’s what Daniel’s here for, isn’t it? To haul them out of the fire when Vincent isn’t around?
“Alright, let’s make a game plan,” he begins as he gestures for his brothers to come closer. Anthony full out sprints the few feet of distance between them, but Jonathan sends a wary look toward the sky before dragging his feet.
Daniel can’t help the instinct to tease his brother. “I saw that, Johnny.”
“Saw what?” the younger snaps as he kicks a leaf.
Daniel can’t help a smirk as he watches his brother carefully keep his distance from the trees nearest to them. “You actin’ like the trees are gonna bite.”
“Oh fuck off,” Jonathan growls as he all but stomps over before stopping beside Anthony who has a smile tugging on his lips. “Last I checked trees are nature's lightning rods.”
“They ain’t gonna bite ya, though,” Anthony grins.
Daniel smiles as that earns a middle finger. “So we are going to do this nice and slow, okay? We’ll make it back home before Vinny even realizes the storm started.”
Jonathan scoffs, but he doesn’t turn away or start making his way home alone. It means he relents going the usual route of fighting every step of the way, something that the brothers always need to plan for if they ever want to get anything done. This makes things a lot easier not needing to essentially drag him along while he’s digging his heels into the ground.
Well, at least until he reveals step one. “First, you three will wait here while I go find Scott.”
“Do you have a death wish!” Jonathan erupts at the same time Anthony shouts “What if you get hit!”
“I don’t have a death wish,” Daniel calmly explains. As calm as one can be when their heart is pounding against his chest, but they don’t need to know just how terrified he is to leave the tree line. “And I won’t get hit since lightning never strikes in the same spot twice.”
Anthony’s eyes grow wide as he stares up at Daniel in awe. Jonathan stares at him like he’s a complete and utter idiot. He appreciates the former reaction, but he completely agrees with the latter.
“Daniel,” sends a shiver up is spine, Jonathan’s wavering voice sounding more like an omen than anything. “I don’t hate the guy, I really don’t. But he’s dead. We watched him get eviscerated. He didn’t just get struck, he got blown up into a million pieces. He’s dead.”
“And what if he’s not,” Daniel counters. “What if he got it, and he’s still alive waiting for someone to come help him.”
“Have you ever heard of someone surviving from getting struck by lightning?”
“No, but if you had gotten struck, I wouldn’t leave you out there even if I knew you were dead.”
“Well he isn’t me, and he isn’t one of us!” Jonathan shouts. He immediately seems to regret it as his head snaps back, a look of guilt appearing. Daniel can’t do anything except blink, slightly taken aback by the reaction.
Because he trusts Jonathan’s words when he says he doesn’t hate Scott. The younger certainly isn’t a Wright, he’s too quiet, too meek, too unopinionated. There’s certain times when Daniel tilts his head in a silent question of how Vincent picked someone like that as a best friend. His older brother who breaks every rule he can find, plays every sport that’s ever existed, and who has always hated those who live on the upper side of town.
And yet Vincent happily walks through the front door of a house with a kitchen bigger than all their rooms combined to talk about homework with someone who will never step a single foot outside on his own volition and who freezes the moment it’s suggested to take a single cookie out of the jar without asking first.
None of them hate Scott. But even after knowing him for a couple years, is he worth almost getting killed over in the slim possibility he might be alive?
Jonathan’s pained look as he fights to say the words ‘I didn’t mean it’ shows where he stands. Anthony’s uncertainty at the thought of having to leave Scott behind and the guarantee of keeping his brother in one piece shows where he stands.
Daniel looks back out to the meadow where he last saw Scott. Someone who’s a lot like them where if they didn’t have each other, no one would really care if they just suddenly vanished. Except he doesn’t have siblings, meaning no one would have immediately run to his aid if they saw him get struck by lightning.
...except for Vincent. Vincent would’ve been at Scott’s side before the lightning was gone.
“Vinny would disagree.”
It’s all he needed to say for his brothers to straighten up before nodding in agreement. “W-We’ll wait here.”
“Don’t die,” Jonathan pleads.
Daniel gives a wide smile as he ruffles their hair. Before his nerves can get the best of him, he breaks into a run out into the clearing, ignoring just how much static is clinging to him now that he’s out of the trees. He just needs to get to Scott, just needs to check and see if he’s alive. He’ll worry about getting them back to the trees safely, he just needs to get to Scott, he’ll be fine.
He skids to a halt once he reaches where he last saw the younger teenager. At least, he’s pretty sure this was where he saw Scott get struck. There’s nothing but tall grass in this meadow, and the smoke they saw before has been whisked away by the wind that’s threatening to throw him onto the ground. But he doesn’t think he’ll ever get the image out of his head of seeing Scott almost looking like a cartoon character the way his veins seemed to light up before he just disappeared.
Turning in a few circles, Daniel’s chest heaves from his short sprint. Or maybe it’s just from the fact he’s standing close to where he saw someone get struck by lightning, and now that he’s here it means he can also become a living lightning rod, and the longer he’s out in the open means there’s more of a chance he’ll end up just like Scott.
“Scott!”
Turning around a few more times, he searches for any sign of the younger’s black shirt. Because apparently he’s allergic to color and owns nothing but formal colored clothes that are as stiff as his personality.
“Scott, you gotta tell me where you are!”
Daniel turns in yet another circle. He can’t help a flinch as thunder booms directly overhead, his eyes looking up at the sky to see if lightning is coming before staring down at his feet for any sign of a footprint, a charred piece of rock, anything.
“Scott, we gotta-!”
There’s a roar of thunder as the hair along his arms and neck suddenly stand on end. Immediately, Daniel drops onto his stomach, trying to become the least tallest thing in the meadow. His hands dig into the dirt as he feels the lightning impact the ground what could only have been a few feet away.
“Danny?!”
“I’m fine!” he shouts back toward his panicked brothers. “Stay where you are and don’t move!”
There’s no answer. He tries to stand back up to make sure the two aren’t being idiots and coming out to help him look, but he’s legs don’t want to cooperate. Neither do his arms, or his lungs. He can’t seem to be able to do anything except lie completely still.
Well, this is it. Either he gets hit by lightning to turn into microscopic particles just like Scott and prove Vincent’s fears on the possibility of what could happen if they didn’t get inside before a storm, or he manages to survive a very long and cold couple of hours where he endures the wind and rain once it starts pouring down.
If only he had listened to-
Daniel freezes as his eyes catch on a divot in the ground. Not from a mound a snake made when burrowing into the dirt, or from a bat being swung or a kicking shoe, it’s charred like something burned it. And sitting right in the middle is a small figurine. One that looks just like Scott if he was only two inches tall.
The times when you felt small, when you wished you were bigger, they’re just brief moments, even if Scott has them more often than not.
He never wanted to actually shrink down a few inchesHe also hates the thought of suddenly growing ten feet tall, even if it would be helpful at times.
No one ever asks about what you want, though.
Content Warnings: Cursing. Peer pressure. Mentions of violence. Mentions of storms, someone getting struck by lightning
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“Ready, Scott?”
The teenager in question tenses, his grip tightening around the baseball bat he holds over his shoulder as he prepares to swing, an action he’s watched countless of times but has never actually done it himself. And for good reason, since the last time he was invited to watch the Wright brothers play baseball, Anthony nearly lost a tooth, Vincent nearly cracked a rib, and Daniel and Johnthan gave each other black eyes after wrestling over who actually won.
Suffice to say, he isn’t ready. Not when this is his first time ever holding a bat, and Daniel is standing a few feet away with a devilish grin.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on ya,” the older boy reassures, something that doesn’t make Scott feel any better. Not when his terror of accidentally whacking himself in the face with the bat, or getting a baseball thrown directly into his chest is obvious enough for such words, but Daniel refuses to give the option to back out. “I won’t be throwing curveballs for your first time!”
As someone taller, stronger, more athletic tosses the baseball he’s holding into the air, Scott can’t help but watch it with wide eyed dread as it spins before landing back in the waiting hand, flinching as he expects it to suddenly come racing toward him.
He jumps as someone taps his shoulder, looking up to see Jonathan standing over him as the younger boy gives a smile that seems more like a sneer. “Relax, Scotty. We won’t pummel you with baseballs!”
But don’t you do that to each other all the time?
“Make that one baseball,” Daniel corrects, his words only making Scott even more nervous at the thought he will get hit by a ball. “We've only got one left, so whoever loses it has to be the one to tell Vinny.”
“Can’t we just blame it on Scott if we lose it?” Anthony pipes up from where he’s climbing up a tree. One that Scott is fairly sure Vincent had told the youngest not to climb due to its height, but he’s too focused on carefully keeping an eye on the ball idly being tossed into the air and caught to confirm. “He wouldn’t blink an eye if we said it was Scott.”
“He’d also know if we were lying,” Daniel points out, tossing the ball yet again, not knowing every movement is being closely watched. Or maybe he can hear the silent prayer it won’t come hurtling toward the only person holding a bat and doing it to keep him on his toes. “Scott doesn’t know what a poker face is.”
Jonathan looks Scott over thoughtfully at that, humming. “He’s right. We gotta teach ya how to lie, Scotty.”
“And how to play poker!”
Scott’s gaze finally breaks away from the ball to look for Vincent in a silent plea for support, tensing when he doesn’t spot the eldest Wright brother. That’s when he remembers a bat didn’t just appear in his hands, or offered without any pressure to accept it. No, it was all but shoved at him before he himself got shoved to stand in a designated spot. Because when he apparently agreed to join the three brothers minus his best friend, it meant he agreed to join in the game.
He hadn’t, though. He never agrees to join any game. Even when it seems as harmless as tag, Scott always declines the invite to participate and instead watches from the sidelines as the four inevitably start brawling each other for one reason or another.
It’s actually one of the reasons why Daniel, Jonathan, and Anthony sometimes hate it when Vincent brings him to the Wright resident to hang out. He’s too quiet, too scared to do anything ‘fun’. It annoys the three to no end whenever Scott nods or shakes his head instead of giving a proper response. But they never get mean or resort to picking on him, even when they join Vincent in teasing him, they never get nasty. They do take full advantage of whenever Scott’s alone with them and Vincent nowhere to be found, though. Because they know he rarely says anything around them on a good day, and even if he wasn’t the smallest despite being only a year younger than Daniel, he wouldn’t fight against being coerced into joining whatever the brothers want him to participate.
That’s why Scott’s trembling as he holds a baseball bat, praying he doesn’t end up in the hospital and having to explain to his parent why he broke a bone for the first time in his life. Because even though there was a lightning storm approaching, and Vincent had given a stern no to playing a game of baseball in the woods where they normally do, Anthony, Jonathan, and Daniel were going to be restless being trapped inside all day on a Saturday, and Vincent already looked like he was having a rough day even though it wasn’t even noon yet.
Scott didn’t hesitate to raise his hand and suggest letting the three hit the baseball once each before having them all come inside before the storm hit. He even offered to go out with them to make sure they held up their side of the agreement and came back to the house the moment the last person swung the bat. Something that the three immediately agreed to and swore they would help clean the house once they were back inside, and Vincent couldn’t hide his relief at the compromise.
If only Vincent had known just how much trouble his so called ‘best friend’ would cause him by getting roped into needing to hit the baseball as well or else their side of the deal wouldn’t properly be met.
He manages a look of betrayal up at Jonathan, a silent statement the three should agree to get inside before the wind stronger or it starts to rain. They can all agree the only thing that’s worse than having to explain to Vincent why someone almost got struck by lightning is why four pairs of shoes were tracking mud over recently cleaned floors.
“You’re right, we’ll teach you how to lie later,” the taller smirks. He then grabs Scott’s arms as he turns the frozen figure to properly face Daniel’s wicked smile as he prepares to properly throw the ball. “Right now, we’re helping you finally face your fear!”
“Which one?” Anthony taunts.
“Shut up, Tony,” Daniel calls back before locking eyes with Scott. Scott, who’s shoulders have hiked up to his ears as he prepares for the worse. “We’ll take it nice an’ easy, Scotty. Just keep your eye on the ball.”
And then the baseball he has been watching carefully, has been dreading the moment it finally gets thrown, it’s coming straight toward him. His instinct to jump out of the way to keep from getting hit is stopped by the hands grabbing his shoulders, keeping him frozen in place as he’s forced to do nothing except brace for pain.
He can’t help squeeze his eyes shut tightly once the ball gets too close for comfort, yelping when he hears the distinct sound of the ball thunking against a tree.
“Strike one!” Anthony hollers, prompting Scott to carefully open his eyes to spot the youngest brother hanging upside down from a tree branch, Daniel wearing a knowing smile where he stands in the ‘pitcher’s spot’.
Looking down at where the ball sits in the leaves, he slumps in relief at the fact Johnathan had been sincere in not hitting Scott with the baseball. At least not intentionally, but he feels significantly better about his decision to being alone with the three without Vincent around.
“Ya gotta swing this time,” Jonathan chuckles as he quickly grabs the ball, throwing it at Daniel to catch before the older’s once again ready to throw. Meaning they’re about to do it all over again. “Don't even think about it, just swing!”
The moment the ball’s coming toward him again, Scott closes his eyes as he makes a desperate swing with all his might, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible now that the wind is starting to pick up and the three have made it clear his turn won’t be up until he actually hits the ball.
He doesn’t feel it connect with the bat. He does hear it hit the tree again, as well as someone else yelping.
“Strike two!”
“Well you definitely swung.”
Scott nearly drops the bat the moment he realizes he nearly hit Johnathan when he swung with the younger boy standing right behind him. He turns to the taller brushing himself off as he stands up from where he fell into the tall grass, mouth opening to apologize profusely.
“Keep your eyes open this time!” Daniel cuts him off, the older effortlessly pulling Scott’s attention out of fear the baseball will be thrown directly at him while he isn’t paying attention.
He’s only given a few seconds to correct his stance before the ball is once again being thrown his way. This time, Scott forces his eyes to stay open, watching as the ball gets closer, and closer, and closer. He has to fight against the instinct to spring away now that he’s no longer being held in place, swallowing the fear he’s going to get hit in the stomach, or in the arm, or in the face.
When it gets close enough he swears he can see it spinning in the air, he swings again, quietly screaming when he feels the ball race past his arm before thunking against the tree yet again.
“Strike three, you’rrrre out!”
Does that mean my turn is finally over?
“Here, Scotty,” Jonathan says as he plucks the bat out of Scott’s hands, nudging the admittedly startled teenager away with it as he throws the ball back to Daniel. He then effortlessly slumps into the proper stance Vincent had drilled into each brothers as he waves the bat in small circles. “Watch and learn!”
Scott doesn’t get a moment to respond or announce everyone’s taken their turn before the baseball is already being thrown. He can only watch as it speeds toward Jonathan, flinching as the younger swings when it seems like the ball is about to hit him. He can’t help jumping at the sound of the bat cracking as it connects with the ball, only for thunder to shake the very air as it booms directly overhead at the same time.
That’s when he notices just how dark it’s gotten even though it’s only 10am.
“And he hits a home run!” Jonathan cheers.
“Dude that was so cool!” Anthony cheers as he grabs the branch he’s dangling from before dropping to the ground, Scott holding back a fearful yell when it seemed like the youngest was about to faceplant rather than landing solidly on his feet. “That was perfect timing!”
“Perfect timing, or the universe proving I’m a better player than even Vinny,” Jonathan smirks as he swings the bat over his shoulder.
“Hey, better player,” Daniel sneers. “You hit the ball out of the clearing.”
There’s a moment of silence as Scott attempts to piece together what that means. Anthony and Johnathan seem to realize at the same time, the younger brother bursting into laughter as the older curses loudly before breaking into a sprint across the meadow. Not in the direction of the Wright residence, in the exact opposite direction further into the forest.
“Vinny’s gonna kill us!”
“You mean you!” Anthony taunts, elbowing Scott and earning a painful gasp for air as he flashes a wide smile. “Johnny’s gonna be grounded for months.”
“He’ll ground you too when I tell him who ate all the cookies!”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I will if you don’t help me look!”
Anthony curses before he’s sprinting across the meadow as well, leaving Scott alone and slightly confused on what just transpired. Something Daniel seems finds amusing based on his smile as he waves for Scott to follow him. “Come on, let’s help the dumbass find the ball he lost.”
That's when it clicks, the realization that Johnathan managed to lose the ball by hitting it into the trees. He’s still a bit unsure as to why that’s something Anthony would laugh at, and then why he would be tattled on in order to make him help in the search, but he now understands Jonathan’s panic. Especially since this is the only ball the Wright brothers have left, and that would mean telling Vincent he can’t practice playing his favorite sport.
The last time that happened, Vincent gave everyone the silent treatment. Everyone except for Scott who didn’t mind playing messenger for the weekend until he had to go back home, and then the brothers were left alone with someone who refused to speak no matter what. It only took a day before the younger three came to his house begging to help them find another baseball.
“Danny you better be helping!”
“Already helping!” Daniel responds with an eyeroll. “No need to pull out the blackmail.”
Scott jogs to catch up with the older teenager’s long strides as they make their way across the meadow. He can’t help sending a worried glance up at the clouds that have only gotten bigger and bigger since they’ve come outside, warning them that the longer they stay out the worse it’s going to get. The thunder has already started, meaning the rain and lightning should be following closely behind, and he was supposed to have everyone back inside several minutes ago.
“Mind looking here, Scott?” Daniel asks as he gestures toward a small patch of the meadow nearest to where he can hear Anthony and Johnathan yelling insults at each other among the trees. “Just in case the ball didn’t go completely out of the clearing.”
We promised Vince we’d be back inside after you had your turn.
Daniel catches his hesitance as he glances back toward the house waiting for them, to where his best friend who’s counting on him is regretting ever trusting Scott. It has the older boy pauses before offering a smile as he calls over his shoulder. “Hey guys, we did promise Vinny we’d be back after we each had a turn. Should we, ya know, had back inside?”
“We are not leaving until we find the ball!” Jonathan yells.
“Do you want to starve for a week cause Vinny refused to cook!” Anthony demands.
“I mean I would survive, it’s you two who burn water.”
“Danny you better help us or else I’m stuffing your pillowcase with shaving cream!” Jonathan all but screams.
Daniel takes a few steps into the tree line as he holds his hands out toward Scott’s look of despair knowing he’s completely outnumbered. “Give us ten minutes to try and find it, and then I’ll help you wrangle them inside, deal?”
Scott can only nod even as guilt gnaws at him. There’s nothing he can do, not when the three never listen to him when it’s just one brother, none the less when all three are together. AT least he can trust Daniel to keep this particular agreement, but he’s still failing his best friend. Rather than helping, he’s made it so Vincent is even more stressed out than before. He might even stop inviting Scott over just to keep something like this from happening again.
Looking from the house waiting between the trees on the other side of the meadow, and where he can hear the three bickering over where the ball might’ve gone, Scott’s eyes turn to the ground where Daniel asked for him to look. Sighs as he begins to diligently search. Because between getting Vincent to wrangle the three in himself and helping to search for the lost ball, the second option seems to be the quickest. This is also his mess to clean up, his promise to keep.
He’ll beg for forgiveness once he’s finished what he started.
“I found it!”
Scott’s head snaps up to spot Anthony darting over to something on the ground, only to flinch as the younger kicks it into smithereens with a frustrated yell.
“Never mind, just a mushroom!”
Turning back to his own section, Scott gently nudges a leaf where a praying mantis sits, carefully stepping around it so he doesn’t disturb it with a silently warning to stay away from mushrooms. At least until the lost baseball is found.
“I think I found it!”
“Tony that’s a football.”
“Same difference, he should be happy we brought back a ball!”
Scott looks over at where Johnathan is snatching the found football away from Anthony, glancing up at the clouds that seem to be swirling directly overhead. He can’t help a shiver as the air almost feels like it’s getting heavier as it starts to hum.
His shoe kicks something at the same time thunder booms from above, his eyes unable to pick between staring straight up or straight down to watch the clouds or see what was hidden in the grass. When he finally sees what it was, his shoulders slump at finding a pinecone.
Scott rubs his arms as his hair begins to stand straight up, turning toward where Daniel was searching as he opens his mouth to tell the older it might be best if they try to find the lost ball tomorrow morning.
“Found it!”
“Are you sure this time?”
“Well if you just look!”
Scott breathes a sigh of relief as Jonathan waves the baseball high above his head. Just as he takes a step toward the three in order to finally get them inside like he promised, a shiver runs up his spine. Suddenly, it’s like there’s static clinging to him, almost like the air is electric as the humming turns into a pulse he can feel in his bones.
All three brothers freeze at the same time he does. And then Daniel’s face is turning pale as he stares at Scott in horror.
“Scott, run!”
He doesn’t get a chance to ask why before there’s a flash of blinding light as his body goes completely numb. It’s not painful per say, but he can feel a surge of energy racing through him from head to toe. He can’t hear or see anything, can’t seem to piece together what happened, but he can smell something burning.
In all my years of enjoying g/t, I never realized FNAF Day and Vore Day were both 8/8. We must celebrate!!
Content Warnings: cursing, mentions of death, mentions of nearly being eaten. Mentions of dehumanization. No actual vore, only mentions
By torturing Scott
________________
“Hey, Scott!”
The man in question glances up from his clipboard to confirm who’s trying to get his attention. Despite being at a location sixty feet too high above ground to be the sister location, he sends a scowl toward Eggs Benedict’s Cheshire grin as the mechanic approaches while ducking and weaving his way through the busy kitchen in the middle of a lunch rush.
If it wasn’t for the fact their resident doctor James Stiller was following closely behind the man, Scott wouldn’t have been too prideful to try and hide from sight. It wouldn’t have done him any good, not when he is the only human in the entire restaurant made for people a hundred times his size with objects to match. Even if he managed to duck behind a towering bag of flour or kneeled behind a jar of spice without his actions being seen, all it would take is an effortless wave of Eggs’ hand to remove any obstacles until he found where his target had hid.
It would be a choice between fruitlessly running from a being capable of grabbing him with two fingers, or simply waiting for someone well known to grab first and ask for permission later however, and Scott would much rather go with the first option.
But James is right behind Eggs as they navigate through cooks quickly turning with piping hot food straight out of the oven in hand, and waiters with trays overflowing with drinks and silverware, and why are his employees fully intent on causing an accident in the middle of an inspection?
“Careful!” Scott cries as James almost has a pizza thrown directly at his face after trying to weave behind someone opening an oven.
He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or upset when the doctor quickly catches the cook’s arms to stop her momentum at the same time Eggs dives in to keep the pizza from falling to the floor, the two only offering smiles to her bewildered look before they’re ducking away to stand before Scott’s counter. On one hand he’s not heartless enough to wish someone had ended up with third degree burns in the hopes it taught them a lesson, but on the other he’s allowed to be angry with the fact such a scenario should never have happened. Meaning as the two who don’t have a food handling card or the word ‘cook’ or ‘waiter’ in their job title loom above him, they’re greeted with a glare and crossed arms as Scott silently demands for an explanation.
“It was his idea,” is spoken by both Eggs and James at the same time, the two pointing toward the other as they remind Scott that despite them both being full grown adults, he might as well have hired children.
Scott sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you know how many violations you’ve committed simply by being here?”
“We’re not trying to ruin you’re inspection day!” Eggs exclaims, the mechanic waving his hands Scott can’t help but eye suspiciously as he expects one of them to lung forward to grab him. “We just thought that since you’re in here, then we’re allowed too!”
The man overshadowed by a container holding utensils all longer than he is tall gives a flat look. “I’m two inches tall.”
“A little smaller than the average sized cockroach,” James chimes in. “Not to say that you’re the beginning of an infestation, but-”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
The doctor offers an earnest smile. “We were actually wanting to offer help finishing your inspection. Since it might not be the easiest inspecting a giant kitchen while two inches tall.”
“Though it does sound like fun,” Eggs muses as he taps his chin thoughtfully, imagining a scenario in which having to navigate a giant kitchen while being small enough to be mistaken for a cockroach would be considered ‘fun’.
In Scott’s opinion, such a scenario doesn’t exist. Not when he has to climb a cliff’s edge to get to the countertop, avoid getting stepped on or getting crushed by objects being tossed, find a way into the cabinets with his only light source being the light from his cell phone. Put all of that on top of the fact Afton informed him at noon on the dot that such an inspection needs to be completed by midnight tonight, and it all accumulates into a miserably impossible task he will always be set up to fail.
He’ll admit, he has always wanted a giant to join him at least ensure he didn’t get knocked off a ledge or onto a tray going out to be served. He would never turn down the offer to lift him up from the floor or carry him across the room to another counter, but he had learned long ago such an offer would never come. Not when he was largely ignored every time he walked through the restaurant, the only giants who ever greeted him being children curious about the living action figure.
A shiver runs down his spine at the memory of a group of children all racing over after spotting him from across the room. Can vividly remember the terror he felt as a hundred scenarios raced through his head, about being grabbed and shoved into a pocket to be taken home, or snatched up to be brought to a parent who didn’t blink an eye at a human being treated like a toy, or being put on a party table and trapped for an indetermined amount of time. Thankfully, despite everyone on staff acting as though he doesn’t exist, they aren’t cruel enough to turn a blind eye to him being in trouble. The day guard stepped in before anything could happen, the children admonished for bothering a Fazbear employee trying to get his work done.
Suffice to say, Scott has never known a giant he could trust, nor someone he could approach to even try and ask for help. Not until Mike was hired at least, the first giant to ever say hello when he first spotted Scott. Then came Jeremy who always follows after the human to become a silent shadow who’s very presence is deterrent enough for children to leave him alone to work in peace. Then Fritz who used to be grabby but has learned to offer a hand instead, Eggs who will always be grabby, James who is the perfect mix of always offering a hand first and grabbing when it’s necessary. David has yet to stop his sneers at having a lowly human stand in the same building as him, but Scott does have giants he can ask for help now. One’s who have gone out of their way to find him whenever they stop by the location he had been sent to for the day. Have offered to help him up to a table or desk without him needing to ask first, or stopped on their path to ask if he was heading their way and wanted a lift.
It meant that when Afton told him he needed to complete an inspection today, for the first time in twenty years Scott didn’t dread it. If anything, he was relieved the seemingly random times for when one needs to be done hadn’t happened before he had an arsenal of giants to chose from to ask if they wouldn’t mind making sure he didn’t end up getting stepped on or falling into the food.
Until he realized he got the message at noon, meaning all of the night guards were already home and most likely sleeping, James had already clocked in to his assigned location for the day, and Fritz would immediately be assigned as a runner the moment he stepped through the door to help with the lunch rush. Scott isn’t too prideful to ask for someone to at least check each server’s tray to make sure there wasn’t an additional human among the platters, but he won’t be cutting into the other’s time off work or risk Afton’s wrath for deliberately keeping someone from doing the job they were hired to do.
That’s why he started his inspection without someone looming over him. And why he should be very suspicious why James and Eggs currently stand before him.
Scott narrows his eyes. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but last I checked neither of you are supposed to be here right now.”
Eggs’ eyes grow wide as he pouts in a poor attempt to convey innocence. “Can’t we visit our favorite supervisor because Fritz texted saying you’re in the middle of an inspection and he was too busy to help so he called in the calvary?”
As much as he genuinely appreciates the two dropping everything just to come and help him, he knows that’s not the only reason why they're here. “No.”
“Mike actually asked us to meet him at this location a few hours from now,” James reveals. “We just decided to come early once Fritz told us you were doing a kitchen inspection.”
That only manages to make Scott even more suspicious as he points as accusing finger toward Eggs. “Mike’s usually dead to the world right now to catch up on the sleep he missed throughout the week, and so are you.”
“Well today’s Saturday, meaning I don’t have a shift tonight!” the mechanic counters as he points his own finger. “So I can stay up as late as I want!”
Scott focuses his attention on James, the one person he can order to get back to work where he’s meant to be. “What’s Michael bringing you in for?”
The pointed finger is suddenly much closer than before, gently poking Scott as the human curses as he’s forced to catch his balance. “For you!”
“For-” He cuts himself off, arm pausing mid swing to whack at the catastrophic digit as he stares up at the two in confusion. “For me?”
Suddenly there’s another finger poking him, this time sending him stumbling back a few steps, nearly falling onto his back and only staying upright from his flailing arm being gently caught by two pinching fingers. “We’ll let him explain when he gets here. You are in the middle of an inspection, and we were hoping to help rather than hinder.”
Scott allows himself to be held by his arm on the cusp of falling on his back should the fingers let go, staring up at the two grinning giants uncomprehendingly. Because why Mike would be asking everyone to come here for Scott? There’s been times when David’s demanded everyone gather at his restaurant for an emergency, and Scott himself will call the others to ask if they can come in early or work at a different location than originally assigned, but Mike is the kind of person who will go where he’s needed rather than the other way around.
Scott can’t help a suspicious glare. “Is there something I should be worried about?”
James only offers a smile. “It won’t end with the building burning down or someone getting murdered, so I don’t think so.”
“That doesn’t sound as reassuring as you think it does.”
“You’re grumpy old man is showing,” Eggs says as he pokes Scott again, a rather effortless feat with him held in place. This time however the human’s not too stunned to follow through with whacking the finger with his clipboard. “It was Mike’s idea so you can yell at him about it. But we’re already here, and you are in the middle of an inspection, soooo.”
He should tell Eggs to go home and for James to get back to his post. But the idea of not having to spend hours climbing up and down cabinets, having a protective hand waiting to grab him if he gets too close to the edge, not to mention having a proper view of the kitchen…
“I’m going to get an earful for letting you both stay,” Scott grumbles as he straightens up, tugging on his arm to finally free it from the fingers holding it captive. “But I genuinely appreciate you both wanting to help me, especially on a day off.”
“Always happy to, boss,” James grins.
“Always,” Eggs agrees before clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “So where do we start!”
Scott looks down at his notes to see where he left off, glancing across the stretch of counter beside him as knives are tossed and frozen food is thrown into the deep-frier he was meant to walk through next. Now that he has someone around to make sure he doesn’t go tumbling from movements that feel more like earthquakes than anything, it will make navigating it much more easier and quicker. However, that someone are two giants, and that makes it two giants too many to have in the middle of a busy kitchen.
“I’ve already checked underneath the stove and behind the cabinets for cleanliness and signs of an infestation,” Scott begins as he flips through the rest of his list to see if there’s something else they can start with. One that doesn’t involve getting in the way of people specifically hired to be inside this room trying to do their jobs. “If one of you doesn’t mind, I would appreciate a lift to the pantry so I can check the floor and shelves.”
He should’ve known it was coming, it’s inevitable for him to be grabbed whenever Eggs is around. Yet Scott can’t help a surprised yelp as fingers suddenly surround him before he’s being scooped up. He’s then sent tumbling against an all too familiar palm as his clipboard lands beside him, a fist closed firmly around him as it jolts with every footstep taken by the catastrophic being.
“We don’t mind at all!” is spoken much too happily.
Knowing his voice is hard to hear on a good day without the sounds of a busy kitchen surrounding them, Scott grabs his clipboard to give a solid whack at the thumb sitting beside him. It only twitches slightly, but the muffled rumble of an ‘ow’ confirms he got his point across. Because no matter how many times Scott asks to at least be given a warning before being snatched off the desk or swept up from the floor, Eggs always gives into the impulse to grab.
It’s never done maliciously. Never out of the belief such a small being shouldn’t have any right to tell someone who can crush him in the very hand holding him what they can and can’t do. If anything he does it out of the assumption he’s being more helpful that way.
Scott doesn’t hold the same sentiment. But he is never worried about the hand never opening and putting him down if he asked to be. Is well aware there may be a detour to where he wants to be taken, but he will always find himself exactly where he wants to be.
Case and point, as the hand finally opens, Scott is greeted with the sight of towering shelves stocked full of dry ingredients. “Made it out alive!”
“Barely,” James says as he quickly closes the pantry door to shut out the cacophony of a bustling kitchen. “Not to question your decisions as a supervisor, Scott, by why are you doing the inspection during a Saturday lunch rush?”
“Usually I don’t have a giant around to help me,” the human replies, leaning over to snatch his clipboard up to make sure it doesn’t get lost. “Meaning it takes me an entire day to go through the entire kitchen, so I have to do it during the busiest times or else I won’t be done before midnight.”
The hand’s he’s sitting in suddenly lifts up, gravity flattening him against the palm until he’s level with Eggs’ wide blue eyes. “You’re walking through that every inspection?”
“Without anyone helping you?” James adds, his eyebrows furrowed.
Scott forgot that as beneficial as it is to have giants who care about his safety, there are downsides, including the fact they tend to be overprotective. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
The two share a look. One that says they don’t believe him. “And how long have you been doing this for?”
…actually, how long has he been doing this for? It’s been a while since he’s really thought about the exact number of years. He knows it’s been at least twenty, but it definitely hasn’t been thirty. Or, at least he’s pretty sure it hasn’t been thirty. That would mean he’s spent over half his life working for Afton.
“It’s been a few years,” Scott waves, ignoring the shiver racing up his spine as he realizes just how much of his life he’s given to Fazbear’s. “I didn’t do inspections when I first started, this has been fairly recent development. Now are you going to help me, or keep me from finishing this before the restaurant closes?”
“We’re helping, we’re helping!” is softly cried as Eggs cups his hands closed, the exact opposite of helping. When they open up again however, Scott finds himself being carefully placed on James’ shoulders, fingers gently nudging him to grab onto the collar on the doctor's uniform so he won’t go tumbling.
Once he’s properly situated, the mechanic beams. “Ta da! Now you’ve got a proper view, and you can tell us where to go and what to grab!”
Scott sighs as he fights to keep a smile off his face. “Kneel down, James, we need to go through the storage bins on the bottom shelf.”
The doctor immediately obeys, slowly kneeling down to not toss Scott off his shoulder to the unforgivable ground waiting below. He then carefully pulls one of the bins off the shelf, opening it so the only person trained for the inspections can see clearly inside.
Scott makes a note on his checklist, patting James’ neck in a silent request the next bin is opened. There’s no asking for clarification, a hand grabbing the next one as the first is pushed toward Eggs to properly seal it and place it back on the shelf.
“So how do you usually check these?”
“By climbing up each one individually and opening the small vent on the lid,” Scott responds, a bit distracted as he checks another box before patting at the neck beside him to move onto the next one.
He hears the sound of plastic being slid across tile, but he only hears one being pulled off and not being put back in. “You climb up these?”
Glancing over at Eggs, he sees the mechanic thoroughly inspecting the side of the bin seemingly completely smooth. “Check the back corner. There’s groves made for humans to use as ladder.”
Spinning the bin around, the giant tilts it to properly see the mentioned groves, letting Scott turn to the opened bin before him to finish the last of this shelf. He barely has time to look down before the shoulder he’s sitting on begins to tilt as well, the human scrambling to get a better grip on the collar beside him with only one arm as James leans over to take a look for himself.
“A little warning next time, please,” Scott murmurs as he punches at the giant’s neck in retaliation.
He earns a rumbling chuckle. “Sorry, boss, I thought I was going slow enough to give you enough time.”
“It’s never enough time. Not when you’re so God damn giant.”
“At least we’re not as tall as David,” Eggs smirks. “So does everything have hidden ladders for you to climb?”
“Not everything,” Scott says. "Some things are hard to replace with human friendly versions. Buying new storage bins are cheap and necessary for food safety. Cabinets are a hassle and much too expensive to do unless it’s a necessity.”
Eggs looks somewhere high above his head before meeting his gaze. “So the cabinets aren’t human friendly?”
“I get in and out of them just fine,” Scott waves, turning back to the last bin as he checks it off his list. Unfortunately, the checkmark turns into an incomprehensible squiggle as the shoulder underneath him shrugs, earning a soft curse as he’s thrown against James’ neck.
“Remind us how long have you been doing inspections for the entire restaurant?”
“Like I said, it’s only been a few years,” Scott huffs as he carefully repositions himself so he’s better prepared for another shrug or the giant suddenly leaning forward. “Would you mind standing up, James, I need to see all of the shelves.”
The doctor quickly closes the last bin, passing it over to Eggs to put in back on the shelf before slowly standing up, allowing Scott for the first time to see how the pantry is meant to be seen. Not towering over him with shelves so high he could never count how many there truly were. Not a single bare wall he gained multiple perspectives of as he meticulously climbed up one shelf and walked through the maze of ingredients before climbing up to the next one.
It’s a bit lackluster, but it’s much easier to look and see how clean each one is, if there’s any food sitting where it shouldn’t be.
“How long have you been working at Fazbear’s as a whole?”
Scott raises an eyebrow at James’ question without looking up from where he’s writing down notes. “You two are suddenly very curious about my work history.”
“Are we not allowed to be curious?”
“No.”
“We are just curious,” James says. “Considering the fact you’re the only human in the company, and yet no giant is assigned to help you with inspections or navigating the pizzeria’s whenever you need to be at a location.”
And such a fact will never change, even ten years from now. Because Afton expects Scott to get the job done whether or not it could be fatal or it’s nearly impossible to complete. It’s the reason why he hired James. Why he had Mike train Jeremy instead of hoping for the best that the kid survives the night. All in the hope he finally has someone to rely on after years of doing it all alone. Not even Vincent offers to help him with inspections.
But the others don’t know that. Will never know. Nor will they ever know just how long Scott’s done this for because he doesn’t want to face such a disturbing fact.
“Curiosity killed the cat.” And at least a decade of night guards. Hopefully the two catch a hint and drop the topic before someone ends up dead. “Alright, pantry is done. Let’s tackle the main kitchen.”
“Did you already do the freezer?” Eggs asks.
At the casual mention of the freezer, Scott can’t help his entire body tensing up, his head snapping to where the seemingly inconspicuous silver door sits in the back of the pantry, feeling genuine terror at the thought of Eggs opening the door.
Thankfully he hasn’t moved from James’ side, only gesturing toward with a thumb over his shoulder. But his eyes are narrowed after seeing Scott’s visceral reaction. Let's a long moment of silence pass until his mouth forms a silent ‘oh’.
“Right, you’re tiny. It must be freezing in there for you.”
“And as the onsite doctor, I highly advise against going inside, Scott,” James agrees. “Want to peek your head inside and check nothing’s out in the open?”
“On it!” is said before Scott can protest. As Eggs reaches for the handle, he begins to frantically scramble for something to help block the cold air from reaching him, freezing when a hand suddenly appears to carefully cup around him.
He can hear the freezer seal breaking, followed by a high pitched scream. “Holy shit it’s cold!”
“Well hurry up!” James taunts.
Scott breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the distinct slam of the door closing and Eggs’ chattering teeth, and yet not a single breeze of a chilling cold that would have left him shivering for days managed to reach him. “Thanks, James.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” the doctor smiles as he removes his hand. “I don’t think three seconds was long enough for Eggs to get a good look.”
“It-t-t was plen-nt-ty long!” the mechanic shivers. “An-n-n-nd I say it’s clear!”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Scott agrees as he makes a mark on his checklist. “I appreciate you checking, Eggs.”
“James is checking n-n-next time.”
“I vote we send Fritz in instead.”
“There won’t be a next time,” Scott scowls. “Let’s head to the main kitchen and let Eggs stand by the oven so he can warm up quicker.”
“O-O-Oh, can I steal a pizza!”
“No.”
“What’s the fun-n-n in helping in inspecting if we don-n-n't get pizza out of it,” Eggs whines as he follows James out of the pantry. “At least I’ll g-get some later.”
Scott looks over his shoulder suspiciously. “What do you mean you’ll get some later?”
“It’s most likely an empty threat,” James rumbles, shrugging his shoulder to force Scott to turn forward or else risk getting pitched off the next time it happens. “What’s next on your list?”
He whacks the giant’s neck for the blatant distraction. It’s one that works as he focuses back on the task at hand, going through what’s left. “I need to watch over food preparation and check the cabinets for signs of mold or pests.”
Suddenly, James turns to meet Eggs face to face, nearly leaving Scott behind in a literal and figurative sense from the quick movement, confused why the doctor would turn away from where they needed to go. He understands perfectly the moment both giants hold their hands out with one palm flat and one held in a fist, unable to help rolling his eyes as they silently count down for Rock, Paper, Scissors.
It’s a quick win as James holds out a rock only for it to be covered by Eggs’ paper, the mechanic pumping his free fist in victory. “Yes! My turn with Scott!”
The human’s eyes widen in realization. “Don’t you dare-”
His yell goes unheard as James gently swipes him off the doctor’s own shoulder, leaving Scott to tumble before he’s carefully released into Eggs’ waiting hand. Despite being stunned by the sudden grab, he’s quick to grab his clipboard from where it fell in order to whack the retreating hand before it got too far away.
“That was a bit childish, Scott.”
“Making me a prize in a game was a bit childish, Jameson.”
“Yeah James,” Eggs snickers, only to hiss in pain as his pinky earns a whack as well. “Hey, we agreed James deserved to be punished!”
“You played the same game, Egsbert,” the human snaps.
“Hey, woah, no need to bring out the full government name,” Eggs murmurs. His tone is an admonished one, and rather than plucking Scott by the back of his shirt to plop him onto the giant’s shoulder, the hand he sits in is slowly lifted up so the human can climb up himself. Something that Scott happily does, using Eggs’ collar to pull himself up onto a secure spot to sit.
To make a point, he uses his clipboard one last time to hit the giant on the neck. “Ow!”
“No more playing Rock, Paper, Scissors for me,” Scott growls. “James, if you find anything you think might be an issue, come grab us. We’ll be standing by the cutting station.”
James looks around the room until he spots the designated area, nodding to confirm he understands before carefully navigating through the kitchen toward the wall of cabinets filled with pots, pans, and utensils.
For Eggs’ part, the mechanic slowly makes his way toward the cutting station before stopping where they have a perfect view of what’s being done, including the counter being wiped down whenever a different ingredient is placed down and knives being switched to avoid cross contamination. Both of which weren’t standard practice up until a few years ago when the bribes to not notice certain violations became as expensive as actually hiring competent cooks and giving them proper training.
“Uh, Scott?”
“Yes?” the human responds as he marks a few boxes.
“You know we don’t mean anything by the playing Rock, Paper, Scissors for you, right?” Eggs asks.
Scott pauses writing down a few notes, looking up at what little he can see of the giant’s face sitting so close to his neck. “Did you think I was genuinely upset about that?”
“Well you did use Egsbert and Jameson, and James’ full name isn’t even Jameson!”
“Neither is Mike’s full name actually Michael,” Scott smiles. “Yes, I know you don’t mean anything by it. I would just prefer it if the giants I trust got into a better habit of offering a hand rather than just grabbing me.”
Suddenly the shoulder he’s sitting on lifts up, but rather than simply shrugging, Scott finds himself gently crushed against Eggs’ neck as the giant seems to purr. “Naaaaw, you trust us!”
“Of course I do,” Scott scowls. “Trust me, if I didn’t, you would never have been able to grab me in the first place.”
“Oh I know,” the giant rumbles as he carefully lowers his shoulder back down, allowing Scott to quickly finish his note before he’s crushed again. “Your murderous shadow you’ve made me disappear and gaslight my parents into thinking I never existed.”
“You say that like you weren’t seconds away from getting your throat slit when you first nearly stepped on me,” Scott snorts without amusement.
“It was an accident!” Eggs cries.
Scott glares at nothing in particular. “Tell that to-”
He’s abruptly cut off by Eggs’ shoulder jerking. It wasn’t a shrug, or else Scott would’ve been knocked into the giant’s neck. No, something or someone bumped into the mechanic, meaning he moved backwards while the human fell forwards.
As he’s flung off Eggs’ shoulder, Scott only sees the unforgiving ground waiting a hundred feet below for one breathless second. In the next, his view is blocked by the unmistakable sight of a serving tray. One holding a steaming pizza and a couple of drinks.
A million thoughts race through his head, from thanking some miracle there was something to catch his fall, to pure dread that the one thing he feared the most is becoming a reality. He ends with only one as gravity turns the weightless feeling into a stomach churning drop as he plummets straight into the frosted glass of a fizzing drink, that being the need for air as he disappears into the syrupy liquid with a quiet splash.
There’s a terrifying moment where Scott can’t tell which direction is up, his legs kicking in the hopes to find something to help him reach the surface. The drink sloshing from side to side with every step taken by the person carrying the tray only makes it worse and nearly impossible to orient himself.
Just as panic begins to grip him and his lungs beg for air, his flailing legs hit something that bounces away before it meets his shoe, this time quickly rising up as it pushes him up along with it.
Scott gasps as he’s suddenly lifted above the surface, coughing as he frantically attempts to wipe the soda out of his eyes, only to find himself falling backwards as he begins to slip off whatever had brought him to the top of the drink. Blindly, he lurches forward in the hopes his hands will catch something, only to gasp in pain as something burns him the moment he touches it.
Forcing his eyes open, Scott blinks away the burning sensation to focus on the blurry object in front of him nearly impossible to keep a grasp on from both pain and its slippery surface. Feels his heart drop when he recognizes it as an ice cube.
Oh God no.
“Hey,” Scott rasps, coughing as he inhales the air-born bubbles as the soda fizzles around him. “Look down. Hey, I’m in the drink!”
He hisses as the ice continues to burn his arms, for once in his life wishing he wore the standard long sleeve Fazbear uniform rather than his comfortable graphic t-shirt a shorts. Wearing clothing easier to swim in doesn’t do him much good if he’s trying to tread in a substance much too dense for him to move through. He wasn’t lucky enough to fall into iceless water that would be effortless to float in and be spotted in immediately.
“Hey!” he tries again. Looks directly up to see if he can spot someone anyone who might be able to hear him. “I’m in the soda!”
“Here’s your food and drinks!”
Scott barely has time to register what those words mean for him, his only warning an ominous shadow falling over the glass surrounding him before his stomach twists as vertigo slams into him. The force is strong enough to force him beneath the soda as he quickly holds his breath, the glass being lowered down so quickly he’s rushed back up to the surface as he coughs for air.
Frantically wiping his eyes with one arm while the other hugs the ice cube tightly, terror creeps into his veins as he feels the glass thunk onto the table. Looks up out of the his small circle of view to see the very top of someone’s head.
“Hey!” he yells as loudly as he can. “Look down at your drink!”
Booming laughter drowns his words out. He can barely hear himself as children screaming and the animatronics playing echo inside the glass’ walls. Meaning no one else can.
Scott cries out as the soda sloshes as the glass jerks forward, desperately trying to keep a grip on the ice cube that’s making his entire body numb. Staring directly up, an unfamiliar face talks to someone out of sight.
Use a straw, use a straw, use a straw.
A hand curls around the glass before the entire drink is lifted up.
Use a straw, use a straw, use a straw!
His pleas aren’t heard as the glass starts to tilt toward a gaping maw.
“No, wait, stop!” Scott screams as he desperately attempts to swim away, only for his arms to move uncoordinated, too numb from holding onto the ice cube. “Don’t eat me, please don’t eat me!”
The glass only lifts higher.
“NO-!”
Scott screams as everything turns upright once again, falling underneath the soda as it sloshes. There’s a terrifying moment where he can feel the liquid shake from quick footsteps, unsure what’s happening or if he’s about to be eaten. But then an ice cube pushes against his legs, rising up beside him as he quickly grabs on to reach air, gasping as he chokes on the fizzing bubbles hitting his face.
“Help!”
“I’ve got you, Phone Guy.”
Scott’s mouth drops open at the familiar voice. With a shaking arm, he quickly wipes at his eyes, blinking rapidly to see if he heard that correctly, that he wasn’t imagine it. Finds himself nearly going limp when he sees Mike’s familiar face looming directly above him.
Thank God.
“You found him?”
“Is he okay?”
“Scott's in there?!”
At the familiar and concerned voices all overlap one another, he sighs in relief. Because he’s safe, he’s not going to be eaten, he’s safe.
Even with the knowledge, he can’t help the instinct to flinch away from fingers reaching in to grab him, a terrified yell escaping when the movement nearly makes him lose his grip on the ice cube.
“Sorry, asshole, didn’t mean to scare you,” Mike’s voice echoes around him, reminding him he’s sitting inside a glass full of soda. “Can I grab you?”
I’m safe, no one’s going to eat me, I’m safe.
Scott stares up at the blue eyes watching him closely. Feels his entire body start to shiver as his adrenaline kicks in, or maybe it’s shock. Can’t seem to make words come out of his mouth or move his head to give an answer.
Mike looks at something out of sight. “Can we pour him out?”
“He could get hurt if one of the ice cubes falls on top of him,” James’ slightly distorted voice replies. “Here, have him grab onto this.”
“Here, Phone Guy,” Mike rumbles, and suddenly there’s a white cloth being lowered next to him. “Let’s get you out of there, fucker.”
Scott doesn’t hesitate to grab on, his heart skipping a beat when his clumsy movements nearly send him falling back into the soda. But his stiff limbs manage to get a secure grip on the fabric acting as a lifeline, his entire body trembling as he’s slowly lifted out of the soda. Can’t stop himself from fearfully looking down as he’s lowered once more, collapsing when his feet meet solid ground.
And then the rest of the cloth is carefully snacking round him into a massive towel. One that he immediately sits down in the very center, pulling as much as he possibly can close in the hopes it chases away the numbness as his teeth chatter and his breath hitches.
“Hey, Scott,” James begins as he kneels in front of where the human is bundled. Bundled, and with no intentions of moving anytime soon. “How do you feel?”
“I’m-m-m f-f-f-fine,” Scott manages to force out. “Just-t-t-t...n-need a m-m-moment.”
“We’ll give you more than that,” the doctor replies. “I just need to know if you’re hurt. Do you have any broken bones or a concussion, or just hypothermia?”
Scott scowls as he grits his teeth to keep himself from biting his tongue as he speaks. “I don’t-t-t-t have hypoth-therm-m-mia.”
James gives a pointed look. “You were in ice water for several minutes.”
“Ic-ced s-s-soda.”
The giant sighs through his nose at the surly tone, making Scott’s wet hair rustle before it’s left standing up straight as the sugar coating every strand turns it stiff. “We’ll argue over semantics later. After we prove if you have hypothermia or not.”
The human takes that as permission to be allowed to simply exist for a few minutes. Huddling inside the towel, his body wracked with shivers as he desperately tries to keep what little body heat he has, he allows himself to close his eyes as he takes in a deep breath. Reassures himself he’s out of the soda, he’s safe, he won’t be treated like the last ice cube and swallowed down with the rest of the drink.
He can’t help a flinch as a shadow falls over him, eyes snapping open to see Mike standing in front of him to pass a first aid kit over to James, a sight that immediately has him scowling.
Both the night guard and doctor catch it, Mike only offering a knowing smile as James opens the kit to search its contents. “Your turn to get stitches, asshole.”
“I’m-m-m fin-n-n-ne,” Scott huffs as he buries himself further into the towel.
“Don’t be a dumbass,” has the human tensing as David walks into view, the suited giant only giving him a brief glance as he passes something to James. “It’d also be a bit hypocritical of you to refuse medical attention despite lecturing Mike on how important it is.”
“I earned-d th-th-th-the right-t to be.”
David rolls his eyes. “You’re just as childish as the rest of us.”
“Says-s-s you.”
“I’m just going to take your temperature and check your pulse, Scott,” James quietly cuts in, the doctor setting a cupped hand a few feet away.
Even though he had sat on James’ shoulder not even an hour ago, trusts the giant not to treat him like an object or some mindless animal, Scott feels his muscles tense with the want to run. Can’t stop the instinctual need to get as far away as possible from such a large being capable of swallowing him whole. Finds it impossible not to perfectly picture the sight of a mouth waiting to eat him as the glass he’s trapped inside tilts down, down, down-
“Scott?”
The human in question stares up at brown eyes bigger than his head watching him with nothing but concern. “Y-Yeah?”
The giant lowers his head so only his eyes are visible past the edge of the...what is he sitting on? A desk? “Are you alright?”
A shiver runs down Scott’s spine. “I-I-I...I can-n't do g-giant-t-t-ts right-t n-n-now.”
“Okay,” the doctor responds easily, the edges of his eyes crinkling from a smile that can’t be seen. “Can I flick the thermometer over and you can read me off your temperature?”
Scott’s shoulders slump as he nods, jolting when said thermometer suddenly skids across the desk before being stopped at the edge of his towel cocoon. It takes a concerning amount of effort to leaning forward to reach for the thing so small it nearly gets impeded into the grain of the desk, but he grabs it. Quickly wraps his towel securely around him before sticking the thermometer into his mouth.
“Make sure it’s under your tongue.”
“It’s-s-s und-der my ton-n-ngue,” Scott grumbles. He obediently waits until the device beeps, removing it from his mouth to check what it says. “N-N-N-Nin-nety fi-ive.”
James tilts his head as he looks at the ceiling. “You’re about to get hypothermia.”
“But-t-t I don-n't have it-t.”
“As long as we get you warmed up as quickly as possible,” the doctor says. He kindly doesn’t say anything about Scott’s wide eyed stare of terror at his words. “How do you feel about someone cupping their hand around you?”
“...d-depend-d-ds on who i-it is.”
James lifts his head up a bit so his smile can properly be seen. “Well good news for you, you’ve got your pick of giants to choose from.”
Admittedly confused, Scott looks past the doctor sitting directly in front of him. Stares as he slowly allows the rest of the room to come into focus, spotting several different towering forms standing inside what he now realizes is the security office. Feels like he missed something very important at Jeremy standing in the doorway next to Mike, Fritz constantly looking over at him as he quietly talks to Eggs, David leaning against the other doorway as he seems to simply listen.
“Wh-Why is everyon-n-ne here?”
His question manages to catch Mike’s attention, the night guard lazily raising his hand to claim responsibility. “I said I’d kick their asses if they didn’t show up.”
Scott blinks. “To what-t-t-t?”
“To celebrate your anniversary for working at Fazbear’s,” James reveals. “Surprise.”
Several different emotions race through Scott in that moment. Confusion why someone would want to celebrate such a thing. Touched at such a thoughtful gesture. Dread knowing Afton will punish him for being the reason employees on the clock aren’t working.
In the end, he ends up laughing without any humor. Because of course something like this would happen on the day of his anniversary working for Afton.
“Eggs-s-s.”
The mechanic in question perks up, though with a noticeably guilty hang of his head. “Yeah, Scott?”
“I n-n-need your warm-mth-th.”
Eggs’ eyes grow wide as he quickly approaches the desk. Kneels down next to James before hesitating, for once in his life looking uncertain. “Want me to-?”
“N-No holding,” Scott commands. “Just-t-t-t cup your h-hand around-d me.”
He has to clench his fists tightly to keep himself from bolting as the catastrophic limb approaches. But he manages to stay in place, and the moment he’s hit with a wave of warmth only a giant can create, he’s breathing a sigh of relief as his shivers immediately subside.
“...hey Scott, I-”
“No need t-to apolig-g-g-gize,” the human interrupts as he forces his eyes to stay open despite wanting to do nothing except sleep, meeting the giant’s gaze to show he’s sincere. “It was-s-s an accid-dent. C-Could've happen-n-ned to James.”
Eggs watches him closely before giving a wide smile. “Naw, James is too boring to let you take a swim in soda. By the way, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate it?”
“A zero,” Scott answers as he huddles into his towel, giving into the temptation to take a nap.
“A zero?” Eggs quietly demands. “Even though it gave you a cool hairstyle?”
“A zero,” the human confirms with closed eyes. “Now I better not wake up to anyone else swimming in soda.”
He hears James give a snort. “We’ll try our best, boss.”
“I vote we throw Jerber’s ass into a glass of soda.”
“I vote Fritz.”
Scott opens one eye as both Jeremy and Fritz give soft shrieks, unable to help a smile at seeing both of them tossed over Mike’s shoulders as the night guard smirks proudly. He half expects Eggs to ask if he can trade places with someone to join in the fun, but the mechanic’s hand doesn’t move a single inch. He isn’t even given a careful poke despite being within perfect range.
“Where’s the cake I was promised for wasting my valuable time coming here?”
“Wow, Harrison, tell us you don’t care about Scott without actually telling us.”
Scott gives a silent laugh as an argument begins to boom around him at the same time James joins in on torturing Jeremy and Fritz as the two attempt to bargain to be put back down on the ground instead of ending up inside a glass of soda, the last part that should be impossible but Mike’s confidence makes him doubt it.
Not the worse way to celebrate over twenty years of a living hell. No, he’ll take being ending up inside someone’s drink over doing yet another inspection alone without anyone there to find him when he inevitably ended up on a serving tray.
“Do you think we can put him in my pocket without waking him up?”
The times when you felt small, when you wished you were bigger, they’re just brief moments, even if Scott has them more often than not.
He never wanted to actually shrink down a few inches. He also hates the thought of suddenly growing ten feet tall, even if it would be helpful at times.
No one ever asks about what you want, though.
Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of violence. Mentions of storms, someone getting struck by lightning. Assuming someone's dead
________________________________
I'm going to kill them.
Vincent doesn’t check it see if he managed to knock the sliding door off its rails as he slams it shut behind him, focused on nothing except hauling his brothers back to the house and therefore making everything else trivial. He could care less if he caused any damage, he’ll just fix it once he gets back. Or better yet, leave it for the three who apparently don’t care or don’t believe him when he says he is this close to hunting them down for sport and hanging their heads on the walls as trophies, their parent’s ire be damned.
“Daniel!”
It’s the first warning that the three are in for a world of trouble. It’s bad enough when they don’t listen to him on a good day. Despite the fact it’s his ass on the line if they ever get so much as a papercut, none the less breaking an arm after slipping in mud while running back home in the middle of a storm, his brothers can’t seem to get it through their thick skulls there are reasons why he’s such a hard ass when it comes to these kinds of things. Especially considering how he doesn’t so much as blink when it comes to them picking locks and breaking into the school after hours, he would think they’d actually listen to the few rules he has and is adamant about.
“Jonathan!”
Vincent doesn’t flinch as the entire sky lights up as lightning flashes overhead, a ground shaking boom matching his murderous mood as he stalks into the woods. Finds the wind wiping his long hair barely being held back in a ponytail a rather fitting image of just how angry he is as he stalks after his brothers. Because the worse part about this entire thing is the fact they got Scott involved. There will never come a day where his younger brothers will ever listen to him, even after he drags them back home kicking and screaming before making their lives hell, but they’re crossing a line when they put themselves and his best friend in danger.
“Anthony!”
He doesn’t hear a single voice trying to call back to him over the cacophony of a storm barely holding itself back from unleashing everything it has to offer. It’s either because they’re further than they said they would go, or because they’re too cowardly to face the consequences and intend on hiding from his wrath for as long as possible. Something that will not be for long, as he intends on hunting each and every one of them down, even if it takes all day in the pouring rain. And unlike the three, he knows how to properly survive a lightning storm.
Vincent stops at the edge of the clearing they’ve claimed as their baseball field. A spot he specifically told them not to go, but his brothers are stubborn, and they would’ve taken advantage of the fact Scott couldn’t tell them no.
Because his best friend is thoughtful, and kind, and selfless. The exact opposite of him who couldn’t help but take advantage of the naive offer to watch and wrangle his brothers after already having a headache from their antics and legitimately contemplating the idea of strangling them once he realized he’d be trapped inside with them all day due to the storm.
The moment he finds them, he’s apologizing to Scott, kicking his brother’s asses, and refusing to give everyone but Scott lunch, all in that order.
Carefully searching the waving grass, Vincent diligently searches for anything out of place. For a long moment, he can’t seem to find anything, not even dark forms hiding in the trees following proper protocol after getting caught in a lightning storm. Just as he turns to continue on his hunt assuming they’re actively running away from him, he locks onto something seemingly appearing from the grass about a hundred feet away.
It’s hard to make out their expression, but it’s clearly Daniel, and he’s running into the trees, acting like he’s trying to move as quickly as possible while carefully holding his arm.
Vincent breaks into a sprint through the trees in the direction his younger brother is running, shoving down the fear Daniel somehow managed to get hurt. Because he’s angry at them, he shouldn’t be worried about the possibility of a broken arm or a twisted ankle. In fact, he should find it rather fitting one of them got injured. It’s what they deserve for not listening to him.
At the sound of thunder before the distinct sound of cracking from a tree splitting after getting struck by lightning echoes across the meadow, followed by the fearful scream of his youngest brother, Vincent starts running even faster. Not from the confirmation all three are close enough for him to grab them before they’re able to escape in time, but out of pure concern someone might actually be hurt.
He watches Daniel frantically but carefully dart back into the trees. Part of him wants to berate his idiot of a brother for standing in a clearing during a lightning storm, and part of him is terrified about the reason why the younger was out there in the first place. It doesn’t help as worse case scenarios begin to bombard him, including one of them narrowly missing getting struck head on by lightning, or all three of them daring each other to see who can stay out in the open long enough before getting scared enough to run back to safety.
Or maybe someone got struck by lightning and he went out to check if they still had a pulse.
“What the fuck!”
At least that’s a good sign.
Vincent is forced to slow down as the path he took turns into a small slope, his eyes looking down at his feet to keep from tipping as he carefully slides down until he reaches even ground. The moment it’s safe to, he’s running toward quiet voices steadily getting louder and louder.
“That can’t be him.”
“Well it is. Unless Vinny's pulling some elaborate prank to teach us all a lesson.”
“Is he okay?”
Those three words makes Vincent’s heart skip a beat. It skips yet again when he finally gets close enough to count three distinct forms in the distance, meaning someone is missing.
“He’s fine, Tony.”
“You call that fine?”
“Well it’s better than him being dead.”
He’s close enough to properly make out Daniel’s and Jonathan’s voices, and if they said Anthony’s name...
“How the fuck are we going to tell Vincent?”
It’s Scott. The missing person is Scott.
Vincent skids to a stop directly beside Jonathan, earning fearful yells from everyone at his sudden entrance. He only has eyes for one person, though, grabbing his brother’s shoulder as he whirls Jonathan around to face him as he manages to growl without sounding out of breath. “Tell Vincent what?”
Jonathan’s entire face goes pale as though he’s seen a ghost. And then he’s frantically attempting to answer as his words come out in a rush. “We don’t know how it happened! He was struck but he doesn’t look like he got hit but he saw him get hit-”
Scott got what?
“We were just about to come home!” Anthony suddenly jumps in before Vincent can fully process what was said. “We swear! But we lost the ball and we were looking for it before the air got all staticy-!”
“-we didn't think he'd get-!”
"-we didn't want to leave him behind but-!"
“Quiet,” Vincent commands, keeping his voice low but stern. It silences both of his brothers, their mouths snapping shut with an audible click.
Looking between the two, he sees the terror. The fear of what he’s about to say, what he’s about to do. And considering the fact they just revealed someone got struck by lightning, specifically Scott despite the hundreds of times he warned them about this exact thing and therefore always told them never to be outside during a storm, it’s warranted.
Without saying another word, he pulls Jonathan and Anthony into a hug, holding them close as they immediately wrap their arms around him. “Are you okay?”
Jonathan nods his head as Anthony gives a quiet “Y-Yeah”. Vincent doesn’t comment on how one is leaving bruises on his arm from how tightly he’s being clung to while the other is leaving tearstains on his shirt.
His attention turns to Daniel, the second oldest trying his hardest to look stoic where he stands a few feet away, but he’s visibly trembling with his hands clasped together. Silently, Vincent takes a hand off Anthony’s back to gesture for his last brother to join the hug. There’s no hesitation to quickly step forward to be pulled into the embrace.
He is genuinely upset with them, and he is terrified of what he managed to piece together concerning Scott. But these are his idiots, and he needs to make sure they’re okay. Physically, and with the knowledge he is here for them no matter how badly they fuck up.
“Are you okay, Danny?”
“I’m okay,” Daniel murmurs, his voice muffled slightly.
“Good.” Vincent carefully pulls away from the three, gently peeling Anthony off him as the youngest tries to discreetly wipe his eyes. “Now tell it to me straight. I won’t yell, and I won’t leave ya’ll out here. But I need to know what happened to Scott.”
Jonathan and Anthony turn to Daniel who hesitates before slowly offering his hands still clasped together. Vincent doesn’t demand for an explanation, patiently waiting as his brother slowly uncovers his hands to reveal what’s inside.
For a few moments, he’s admittedly confused at what he’s looking at. Because at first glance, it seems to be a small figurine. It has a lot more detail than he’s used to, the sand colored hair and the miniscule clothes rustling from the wind, and the calm expression looks much too realistic to have been painted on.
And then it feels like he’s been hit by a truck when he recognizes that expression. Realizes he knows those stiff clothes and hair that’s always gelled back until he comes along to ruffle it until any semblance of order is erased. It’s not supposed to be small enough to be held inside Daniel’s hands. Scott isn’t supposed to be two inches tall.
Vincent stands frozen for a good minute as he stares at his best friend. Unable to move or think about doing anything else except stare at what couldn’t possibly be his Scotty.
After another minute, he wordlessly holds out his hand. His silent demand is immediately heeded as Daniel oh so carefully tilts his hands until the miniscule form is being slid into his palm.
Lifting his hand up to his face, with a delicate finger, he nudges the tiny figure to confirm if this is real. It happens so quickly that if he looked away for a moment or blinked, he would’ve missed the absolutely microscopic nose wrinkle before the face becomes peaceful once more.
Holy shit that’s adorable.
Sighing through his nose in relief, a smirk tugs on Vincent’s lips at the sight of Scott’s hair ruffling from the simple action. Then he’s spinning on his heel as his hand curls protectively around the sleeping figure, holding his best friend close to his chest as he begins the trek back home.
There’s quick footsteps before Anthony’s jogging beside him to keep up with his long strides. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.”
“Is he actually okay?” Jonathan asks as he appears on Vincent’s right.
“He is.”
He can almost hear Daniel’s hesitation. “Will we be okay?”
“Oh, you three have no idea what’s coming for you,” Vincent grins in a sickeningly sweet voice that makes all three of them flinch. “But we’re focusing on getting everyone home alive before I start picking you off one by one.”
And only after he sets ground rules concerning a pocketable Scott. Because the only thing worse than leaving Scott completely alone with his brothers is having a tiny one that wouldn’t be able to come running to Vincent for help if he needed it even if they are all in the same room.
