#the coauthor goes for Fall Limp

[catman-draws]

She's like my cat pixie,

Pick him up and he screams

Cat moveset: bite/claw, wiggle, scream, fall limp.

These can be performed in any order and also in combination.

[angelofrainfrogs]

Spend the Night: Ch. 20

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Stay calm, stay calm Every hair is on its end That's fine, I'm fine Feeling my adrenaline That's fine, I'm fine

~Stay Calm by Griffinilla, Jeff Burgess~

Together, they impacted into the maintenance tunnels. Despite the tremendous fall Gregory avoided any broken bones, though nearly every piece of exposed skin that wasn't shielded by Michael's body felt bruised. In turn Mike oozed a crimson, synthetic blood—another odd detail that Henry chose to include, perhaps to enhance the realism of his work.

When Gregory opened his eyes again he spotted the go-kart, but failed to locate Roxy immediately. She’d been sandwiched between the car and the wall, so she should be lying in a crumpled heap amidst the rubble. A dark tingle of stunned fear raced up Gregory’s spine, shocking him into silence.

…That was until Roxy lifted the kart up as if it were nothing more than a blanket. She threw it, narrowly missing the boys. Gregory once again thought this might be his last moment as the wolf stalked over to them. Fingers pulled the torn fabric of Michael’s shirt; if Gregory was going down in this godforsaken Pizzaplex, the obvious choice was to cling to one of the truest friends he’d ever had while his life was snuffed out.

“Look at that… You’re going to die. No real family. No real friends, either. That must suck—” Roxy interrupted herself with her own maniacal laughter as she limped carefully towards the boys—

—until she was stopped by a thick metal cord that coiled tightly around her leg. She blinked, confused at the sudden intrusion on her work before she was pulled hard and fast. Whipped to the ground in a prone position, Roxy shrieked in both simulated pain and sudden fear.

“—WAIT! DON’T!” was all she could muster before being quickly dragged into the shadows. It was then that Gregory and Michael became audio witnesses to Roxy’s dismemberment. She shouted and pleaded until her voice box was carefully disconnected, large pieces of her thrown asunder for the dayshift guards to find later.

When the clown head emerged from around the corner, it stared right through the traumatized boys with abject obsession, voice low and crackling. “ACCORDING… TO PLAN… MIKEY…”

Michael let out a low, broken whine in response, slowly sitting up while clinging to Gregory with a grip that would certainly hurt if the boy hadn’t been just as shell-shocked. One of Michael’s hands clutched white-knuckled in Gregory’s hair, holding his head protectively against his chest. Mike’s other arm snaked around Gregory’s waist, synthetic blood leeching into Gregory’s shirt from a large gash tracing the android’s wrist to inner elbow. There was also a trickle of “blood” oozing down from the left corner of Michael’s mouth, but that seemed to be the worst of his injuries.

When Ennard simply watched them, swaying slightly but not making any move to come closer or attack, Michael managed to stutter out a hushed: “T-Thank… you…?”

Gregory couldn't speak. He wasn't sure if this interaction would make him love or hate clowns from now on. He was just certain he'd feel very strongly about them one way or another. Ennard looked topside towards the light in the ceiling before pointing behind the duo.

“...RACEWAY... SERVICE ELEVATOR... TAKE—TAKE—TAKE TO SURFACE...,” they said in a voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard, static haze nearly impossible to decipher if one wasn’t listening close enough.

Gregory stared at Ennard, watching for any sharp movements. Then he relented, nodding his head once to show his understanding before Ennard slithered back into the darkness.

Gregory tried to speak then, to say something—anything—but the blood covering him in the darkness felt like it was suffocating him, too. Michael's cut arm shouldn't have been real, but to Gregory it looked like fresh gore, the violent wound suppressing his thoughts and making his words come out as little huffs.

This was all too much. Just when things seemed to be going somewhat right in Michael’s life, another event five times as traumatic happened instead. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sleep for 100 years—maybe by that point the Fazbear franchise and all its related horrors would be nothing but dust, and Michael could finally breathe again.

But he couldn’t do that. Not now.

He had too many people to protect, one of whom was currently shaking like a leaf in his arms.

“H-Hey… hey…,” Michael began, then stopped to swallow a pool of blood that had lodged in his throat. Where it actually went he had no idea, although he wouldn’t put it past Henry to install an entire digestive system in these weird bodies.

Easing his grip on Gregory, Mike finally noticed the gash in his arm and almost choked at how real it looked. He searched for anything to stop the bleeding, but after finding nothing except broken mechanics, he simply ripped off the bottom half of his shirt and did his best to wrap the wound. Gregory was still sitting in his lap, staring at Michael’s arm with a dull, sort of queasy expression. With a grimace, Mike noticed the boy’s shirt was soaked through with a dark stain where he’d held him for dear life. After wiping the trail of blood off his face, Michael pressed gentle fingers to the underside of Gregory’s chin and tilted his head up to look at him properly.

“Hey.” Michael spoke with the confidence of a big brother taking charge to assure his siblings there’s absolutely nothing to worry about, even when there clearly is. Offering Gregory a slightly shaky smile, he continued: “We’re a-okay, kid; you’re fine, I-I’m fine, and so are Freddy and Charlie.”

He ran a hand through Gregory’s hair, trying to comfort and get off some of the dust from their tumble. “As long as I'm around I’m always going to keep you safe, okay? Promise.”

The reassuring words had put sparkles in the kid’s eyes. Though in actuality, those were just sparks from Roxy’s dismembered limbs that burned bright enough to catch a reflection off Gregory’s watery vision. While he couldn’t seem to muster words, he could finally move…

Slowly, calculated, Gregory dug inside one of his cargo pockets. After fishing for the roll of gauze he’d swiped from one of the first aid kits Gregory held it out, finally mustering the courage to speak after a few deep breaths.

“Here… Let me help,” he murmured, taking Mike's arm and slowly wrapping the gauze around the length of the cut. “Tell me if this hurts.”

Michael’s face looked bruised now, too; the cut on the corner of his mouth wouldn’t stop bleeding. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Michael assured, his voice low and calm. He let Gregory work, watching the boy carefully. The poor thing was going to be scarred after this whole ordeal, that’s for sure—if not physically, then mentally. A sudden dark, vicious bubble of rage swelled within at this thought.

Yet another innocent child corrupted by his father’s madness. If not for William, Gregory wouldn’t be in this dank basement performing first aid on his synthetic robot friend. He’d probably be at home, playing video games or working on coding some new technical marvel.

Although, Gregory had run away for a reason… but even that place would be better than here.

Mike closed his eyes, chasing away this line of thought. Regardless of where Gregory was, he knew deep down in his soul that no one was going to love this kid more than he, Freddy, and Charlie did. Yes, they might have indirectly led him into danger multiple times, yet they always made sure Gregory was safe in the end.

“Alright,” Mike said once Gregory tied off the gauze and slipped it back in his pocket. He wiped another trail of blood off his chin and stood, holding out the hand from his non-injured arm to Gregory. “Let’s get out of here. I’m sure Freddy and Charlie are waiting for us.”

Gregory nodded and returned a forced confident smile, reality setting in that if Michael wasn’t there, he would’ve certainly died this time. He lifted himself up, using Mike’s hand as leverage before clinging tightly around his waist.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Michael.” Gregory punctuated this with a sniffle. Even if he was really the one in danger, Gregory couldn’t be more appreciative that he now had someone in his life willing to risk themselves to protect him. Those lights of admiration stuck around in his gaze long after they exited the area with Roxy’s twitching, bifurcated body…

***

When the lift doors to the elevator finally opened, it was apparent Freddy and Charlie had the same idea to go down and look for their friends. Upon seeing the gore splattered on Gregory’s cheek and shirt, not to mention the state Michael was in, Charlie gripped her hair in stress.

“Golly gosh—what the hell—” Charlie at least tried not to swear as she looked on to her friends.

“We’re fine,” Gregory insisted dryly, taking a long and smooth breath.

See? He didn’t even cry this time.

Everything was just… numb. Did that mean he was getting stronger?

Charlie looked down at Gregory worriedly, hands moving to cover her mouth, then pull at the collar of her shirt. In rare form, Charlie had been rendered speechless.

“Are you sure?! You are covered in blood, Gregory!” Freddy exclaimed, looking more distressed than he’d ever been.

“It’s mine—don’t worry,” Michael said, releasing Gregory’s hand so the bear could fret over his son. Mike looked to Charlie, giving her a tired smile which unintentionally reopened the cut in the corner of his mouth. He wiped the red liquid away with the back of his hand, letting out a short, hollow laugh. “I guess we do have blood in us, huh?”

Freddy of course conducted a health scan of Gregory, paws fluttering around the boy uselessly for a moment until he determined the extent of his injuries. Thankfully, the gash from Roxy’s claws had stopped sparking and was now just a less hazardous but unnerving open wound of exposed wires in Freddy’s arm. True to the boys’ words, Gregory was completely unscathed. The red stain on his shirt was not real blood, and any scratches from the wreck and subsequent fall were surface level.

“Thank goodness you are safe!” Freddy exhaled unnecessarily in relief, pulling Gregory in for a tight hug. He looked to Michael over his shoulder, blue eyes full of utmost gratitude. “Thank you for protecting him, Michael. I… I do not know what I would have done if—”

“Say no more, Freddy,” Mike cut him off gently. He cracked a grin, finally relaxing somewhat now that Freddy confirmed the kid was truly okay. “I told you he was safe with me, didn’t I?”

Holding tightly onto their resident papa bear, Gregory forgot his troubles for a moment. There was no need to worry about Mike; when the man stood up completely fine, he figured there hadn’t been any huge internal damage.

In the spirit of trying to keep things light, Charlie pulled her jacket sleeve down over the heel of her palm and begun to wipe Michael’s face clean of the fake blood. It seemed that this trend of cleaning up Mike’s rough and tumble injuries would continue throughout their immortal lives.

“That’s actually really metal,” Charlie mentioned, unafraid to don the green jacket again despite its now alarming blood stain. “My dad must���ve thought of everything when making these things…”

Gregory was busy nuzzling his face into Freddy’s shoulder, his troubles nearly forgotten as he explained: “That clown guy—Ennard? They ended up saving us…”

Charlie gave Michael a look, followed by a nervous chuckle. “Guess Ennard does love you, in a weird way…”

Michael could only grimace at this, recalling Roxy’s blood-curdling pleas as she was systematically torn apart. At least Ennard had the sense to spare Gregory from the sight of it all, though their violent strength only left Michael to wonder for the billionth time how the fuck he’d survived that thing living inside his body for a week… However, he’d learned long ago that some things simply aren’t meant to be answered.

“They ripped her to shreds…,” Michael eventually clarified with a light shake of his head. “I think we can safely say Roxy’s down for the count now, too.”

“At least our goal was accomplished,” Freddy said, lifting Gregory into his arms. He did this without thinking, just wanting to keep his son close after such a traumatic event, but by the way Gregory folded into his embrace to rest against his chest like it was the comfiest spot in the universe Freddy knew he didn’t mind.

Chuckling softly, he ran a claw through Gregory’s hair, then frowned when a plethora of dust came away in a little cloud. Glancing down at the stained shirt, then to Michael who was now essentially wearing a ripped-hem crop top, Freddy suggested: “…Perhaps we should stop by the gift shop and get you both some new clothes.”

“I don’t know—” Charlie chuckled, deciding to poke a little fun at her friend. “—that’s a very bold fashion statement you’ve got going on there, Mike.”

But of course, there was the matter of getting Gregory properly clothed now. Surely having that sticky red substance on his chest wasn’t comfortable.

“You need a new jacket, Charlie,” Gregory pointed out, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion as he chose to relax without protest in Freddy’s cradle. Periodically, Gregory would pluck and hold the bloodied shirt away from his chest as Charlie pondered this.

“I want to see what hoodies they have,” she remarked somewhat excited to be able to look for clothes. It was one of those things she never thought she’d miss until her soul was rearranged into a Puppet. “Let’s go. We can get Gregory a treat for being so brave.”

Charlie decided it best to treat her pseudo-brother with relative sensitivity. He wasn’t delicate, though to her it seemed his psyche was wearing thin from the violence he’d now become accustomed to.

“Maybe they have some cool retro shirts…,” Michael thought aloud, following alongside Freddy as the bear began to walk. He tugged at the tattered hem of his current top with a small sigh. “I’m forever grateful to Uncle Henry for these bodies, but this outfit is not my style."

Freddy chuckled at this. “I am sure they will have something that suits you—and if we cannot find anything to your liking on the main floor, we can check in the stock room.”

“Yesss!” Michael cheered quietly, pumping a fist by his side.

Maybe it was the fake-blood loss, or simply the high from nearly watching his new brother get turned into a fleshy pancake on a go-kart roadway, but as they walked to the gift shop Mike almost felt like a kid again. His best friend and his brother were going with him and his surrogate dad to the store, where they’d do some shopping before returning home for the evening. It was a surreal thing, for Michael to feel like he had a family again after all this time. Gregory and Charlie would never be replacements for Evan and Elizabeth, but the connection Michael had with them was just as strong—and Mike was doing his damndest not to mess these relationships up like he’d done for all the others in his life.

And then there was Freddy, the animatronic bear that was the most paternal figure Michael had come across in literal decades. A slow grin spread across his face as he remembered the kind-faced body waiting patiently for its consciousness down below. When Gregory and Freddy found out, Mike had a feeling they were going to lose their minds in the best kind of way.

Charlie couldn’t deny that she was excited to find new clothes. The ones her dad picked out were nice, the dated feeling of the 80s style familiar in a way that tugged at her heartstrings. Thankfully, in the Pizzaplex there was no shortage of things from that era. Looking at the newer “retro” fitted clothing lines that Fazbear Entertainment released had only driven Charlie to find more just like it. Her first grab was a loose fitting tie-dye shirt. In the middle was a classic Freddy face, giving a wide open smile. It made her wonder if they were trying to make it intentionally look like a Grateful Dead t-shirt and decided she liked it.

“Whoever’s designing these needs a raise,” Charlie announced, throwing it over her forearm along with a pair of high-waisted skate shorts. On the left leg was an embroidered patch of the Fazbear gang, simplistically stitched with bright, saturated characters.

Gregory felt the same as Michael as they began their little shopping trip, even if neither spoke their feelings aloud. While Charlie dug through the racks for a stylish hoodie to match her new outfit, Gregory clambered inside the rack. He'd always do this on the rare occasions his foster family took him out—only he meant to stay hidden from them. This time was merely for kicks. Having trouble finding something he liked, Gregory decided to poke his head out and get Michael's attention.

“Hey, Mike? What clothes do you normally get?” he asked, trying in a coy fashion to emulate his sense of style.

“Uhhh…” Michael stalled at the question, hands poised to shuffle through a display of shirts on the wall. He hadn’t worn anything but tight-fitting uniform work clothes for years, simply because they were functional for both his job and keeping his body in place. He also hadn’t actually gone clothes shopping in a long time—not since the magic of the internet allowed him to have things delivered right to his apartment, saving him a trip to the store where he’d be met with curiously suspicious glances.

He tried to cover up as much as possible, but inevitably one person would take it upon themselves to be the crowd’s spokesperson, walking up to Michael and asking in a not so subtle way if he had a contagious disease that caused his unusual pallor. Mike couldn’t count the number of times he’d simply told them he was a flesh-eating zombie who’d come to feast on their brains, then promptly left the store never to return. Even if no one but him understood the joke, it was still good to find humor where he could… though unfortunately his sense of humor got him banned from half the department stores in his city.

But back to Gregory’s question. The boy wanted to know Michael’s fashion preferences, and with a grin he replied: “I only get cool stuff, of course—you know, ripped jeans, leather jackets… Ooh, and rad shirts like this one!”

With awestruck eyes, he pulled a shirt from the back of the rack and held it up to the light. It was a loose-fitting tank-top that looked like the sleeves had been ripped off, leaving jagged edges in the turquoise fabric. The whole thing had a weathered, grunge sort of feel, and printed smack dab in the center was a fully colored decal of Glamrock Foxy’s grinning face.

“That's perfect for you, Mike,” Charlie pointed out, gently pulling Gregory out from the cover of the clothing rack, clearly feeling nostalgic since walking into this themed store. “You wanna be like this dummy and wear muscle shirts during the winter, little man?”

She remembered Henry telling Mike he’d get sick from being so cold, but for the longest time that style was all Michael would wear. Gregory thought being able to withstand the cold sounded pretty tough, because he was in search of something similar. He nodded, then dashed off towards the juniors section. When his search turned up empty, he instead went back towards the young adults’ area to look for something like Michael grabbed.

It was clear to Charlie that Gregory wanted to dress like Michael, and she found it endearing. She noticed a black muscle shirt with a Foxy-themed Jolly Rodger, finding it's toned down design cute. The skull had been replaced with a smiling foxy, and the bones crossed beneath were slices of cheesy pizza.

“Hey, Gregory, you should get this one,” Charlie urged, tossing him the shirt to go try on.

“This one's real rad!” Gregory said, using the slang he'd heard not five minutes ago before running off towards the changing rooms.

Michael was already in a stall when he heard Gregory’s speeding footsteps go into the one next door. Slipping off his old shirt, Mike did a quick 360 in the mirror to make sure there were no hidden injuries from the crash that’d come back to bite him later. To his relief, it seemed like his arm was the worst of it, though thanks to Gregory’s surprisingly good first aid it'd stopped actively bleeding. The cut on his mouth had stopped too, and as Michael looked closer he was shocked to see that it looked like the skin had almost healed itself back together… Just another question for his increasingly long list of things to ask Henry the next time they saw each other.

After slipping on the new shirt, which matched nicely with the dark-wash jeans this body came equipped with, Michael stepped out of the changing room at the same time as Gregory.

“Hey, nice pick!” he praised with a laugh when he caught sight of the boy’s new shirt, holding up a hand for a high-five.

“Really?” Gregory asked, slapping the palm of his big brother’s hand.

Freddy had been watching this whole display of course, and he couldn’t stop smiling. It warmed his heart to see the pair bonding like this—it was obvious that Michael cared a great deal for Gregory, and Freddy was thankful his boy was warming up to Mike as well. His prediction that they’d become an inseparable duo seemed to be coming truer by the minute.

Charlie squeezed behind them, closing the door to get changed—another daily ritual she’d have to get used to again. By the time she came out, Gregory was fixing his outfit in the mirror. The long hem of his t-shirt was half stuffed into the front left side of his cargo shorts, keeping the pockets clear for easy access to his things. As Charlie exited the changing room, she snatched a snapback cap from the back of the door. The pink hat with a pizza embroidered on the front had been a collectors Chica item, something Charlie wouldn’t mind stealing for herself.

“You ready, Charlie?” Gregory asked, spying her in the floor length mirror.

“Totally; let’s bounce,” she replied holding her hand out for him to take. When Gregory ran to grab onto her, she felt her heart melt. She never had a little brother, so this experience was new. She ate up the attention Gregory showed her, and in turn looked out for him.

“Let’s goooo; I want ice cream!” Gregory called to Freddy and Michael, happily walking besides Charlie. With three of the most dangerous animatronics gone, tonight they could relax. And Gregory could pretend their lives were normal for a few sweet hours.

“Ice cream?” Freddy repeated, falling into step beside Michael, who chuckled and patted him on the back.

“Charlie promised him a treat and you didn’t say no, so… looks like that’s what we’re going for,” Mike explained, to which Freddy nodded in understanding. Michael then leaned in close, whispering so only Freddy could hear: “Where’s the bakery? I think an ice cream cake with blue icing is just what he needs, don’t you?”

Freddy gave a soft laugh, recalling the group’s conversation in the diner. It seemed like so long ago, but in reality it hadn’t even been 24 hours since then...

“Follow me, everyone!” Freddy announced, picking up the pace until he was able to take the lead. As Charlie and Gregory began to follow, Michael moved to Gregory’s other side and held out a hand. When the boy readily grasped it, Mike beamed down at him before turning a raised eyebrow to Charlie. Silently, he jerked his chin downwards, and as one they hoisted Gregory into the air, letting his feet dangle a few inches off the ground. His weight was still nothing compared to their robotic strength, and based on his shriek of laughter he didn’t seem to mind the lift at all.

“Gregory,” Charlie voiced inquisitively, lowering him back to the ground as she asked “When’s your birthday? I keep forgetting to ask how old you are…”

She was already thinking of ideas for celebrating his special day. Between Charlie and Mike, they didn’t have the best track records with birthdays, and she was determined to make sure Gregory’s was something great. Plus, Charlie had simply grown to love throwing parties.

“I’m twelve!” Gregory chuckled. There was no further elaboration, which in turn confused Charlie. Before she could question him further Gregory gave their hands a firm squeeze and asked in a sweet voice she couldn’t refuse: “Wait—lift me up again?”

Michael obeyed Gregory’s request as well, giving Charlie a half-shrug as he met her gaze over the kid’s head. He was curious too, but birthdays were still a sore spot for him even after so many years; he certainly wasn’t going to push Gregory to explain himself if he didn’t want to. Maybe Freddy would be able to coax the information out of him at some point…

A few minutes later, the group concluded their blessedly animatronic- and night guard-free walk to Chica’s Bakery. The diner theme continued in this restaurant, and Freddy instructed the group to get settled in one of the bubblegum pink booths as he ducked into the back to retrieve Gregory’s treat.

The pristine vinyl seats were a safe haven. Chica's Bakery looked to be Chica's Party World inspired in its patterns and color pallete—pastels with a few neon mixed in to really draw the eye in against eggshell white backgrounds. It reminded Charlie heavily of Fredbear's Family Diner, and she closed her eyes in a sigh as she slid into one of the booths.

Falling in besides Michael was his little brother. If Charlie squinted, Gregory was already becoming a miniature version of her best friend for life and beyond. A loving homage to his saintly protector in grunge clothing.

On one side of the booth near the wall, there were sugar packets for the coffee menus. In an act of giddy delirium, Charlie experimentally ripped one open to sample its contents. She wanted to see exactly how realistic these androids were.

When Charlie felt the sensation of sweetness on her tongue for the first time in ages, her eyes widened in pure shock. Hell, her pupils even dilated even from the simple sugar rush.

“Mike—dude, put this in your mouth. My dad's a freaking genius!” Charlie exclaimed. Somehow, she registered that it was sweet. The granules may not have melted on her tongue as fast as they would for a normal human, yet somehow she could taste them. As Gregory swiped the half-spilled packet from Charlie’s open palm, she found herself laughing out: “No, Gregory, not the straight sugar—”

“Hey!” Mike exclaimed in mock offense, more concerned with the sugar being snatched away from him than Gregory actually eating it. With a playful shove, Michael pressed Gregory into the plush seat back of the booth and reached over him to grab a packet for himself. Ripping it open, Mike leaned his head back and tipped half the contents into his mouth. His eyes widened as the sweetness washed over his nonexistent taste buds, and he promptly poured the rest of the sugar down his throat before Gregory could take it.

“Holy shit!” Michael murmured once the admittedly overzealous amount of sugar crystals had dissolved. Realizing what he said, he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth and threw a furtive glance towards the back kitchen. To his relief, Freddy was too preoccupied with his task to hear him, so Mike settled back into the booth with a grin.

“…Don’t tell your dad I said that,” he felt the need to remind Gregory, as if the kid would store this incident in his memory for potential ammo against him later. “Anyway—yes, Uncle Henry's amazing! I can’t believe we can actually taste stuff!”

Back in the kitchen, Freddy was staring down at the perfectly written cursive adorning a deathly-sweet treat. Unsure of what flavor to pick, Freddy had opted for Neapolitan ice cream encased in a fluffy, vanilla cake. The whole thing was slathered in white icing, and Freddy had added a simple border of puffball-shaped drops in electric blue that just so happened to match the lightning bolt on his chest. The bear had also taken it upon himself to write a message on the cake, which he was currently reading over to make sure it was absolutely perfect before he presented it to the eager group outside.

Charlie leaned back, laughing at the two of them as they interacted. Between Gregory actively trying to put himself into a diabetic coma and Michael swearing in front of him, it felt like she was hanging out with him and Evan again. Still, she didn’t think of Gregory as a replacement by any means, regardless of the similarities.  

Upon spying Freddy carefully toting the icy confectionery treat, Gregory practically stood out of his seat with a gasp.

“Guys, look!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Look what Freddy has!”

He shouted as if unable to put together words to match the joy he felt in that moment. Charlie looked to Freddy, pretending as if she didn’t already know the plan.

“Oh man—is that what I think it is?” she goaded, urging the excitement she saw bubbling behind Gregory’s eyes.

Charlie loved this; it felt nostalgic in its own right. Like a little private party they would throw for friends while hanging out at the dinner. Little celebrations just because they could…

When the cake finally reached the table, Gregory stood on the seat to glance at the message written in perfect script on its surface.

“Well, well,” Michael murmured, leaning back against the booth with arms crossed in front of his chest, a slightly smug grin tugging t the corners of his mouth at Gregory’s obvious excitement. “Seems that bear knows you pretty well already, huh?”

“Here you go, Gregory,” Freddy said with a beaming smile, setting the cake down with the practiced flourish of having done so hundreds of times. His soft gaze swiveled over the trio before ultimately settling on Gregory—the cake itself might be for him, but the intent of the message was for all of them. In fancy blue script were three simple words that encapsulated everything they’d been striving for these past few nights:

Welcome home, superstar!

Gregory had eyes fixated on the cake. As Charlie retrieved a spoon for him to feast with, Gregory could feel something wet rolling down his cheeks. The ice cream beneath the perfect blue icing tasted smooth, chilling his lips and staining them with its rich dye. Undaunted by the warm flow of water coming from the corners of his eyes, he thanked Freddy through a cold, grinning mouthful: “Thank you, Dad!”

This was it. This was the best cake he’d ever have. There likely wouldn’t be a need to taste another in his life, because no cake would be sweeter than this one.

***

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