#vanessa x max | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

riahlynn101 · 8 months ago

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"[You] Should Know Better Than That" (2).

Chapter 2

Jane’s nephew had always been a weird one. Temperamental and moody were labels put on him by his parents - her brother and sister-in-law - but there had always been more to it than that.

Sure, Mike’s temper tantrums were a sight to behold. Her eardrums still haven't recovered from the one he threw when he was five. And her nephew’s moods change on a dime (thankfully, less outwardly destructive now that he’s older). But to say he’s temperamental is missing a fundamental piece of what makes Mike, well, Mike.

She hates that she knows this. Hates that she understands him more than he does himself. And Jane refuses to understand anyone at all.

Not anymore.

“And his mood swings,” she warbles, pretending to wipe her eyes.

Abby’s teacher - what’s-her-face - tilts her head. A look of blatant disbelief on her face. Jane isn’t bothered though. It’s not about making the teacher believe it, she just needs her words to end up on the record. And someday, when her nephew inevitably ends up going off the deep end, the court can look over her words, and find that Mike - as she has always proclaimed - is not a suitable guardian.

Mike rolls his eyes. This, too, she ignores. It’s not the first time he can’t contain himself in a professional setting. Speaking of which….

She sniffs. “And that poor man.”

Another head tilt. Another eye roll.

Her nephew doesn’t speak up to defend himself. Not that he ever does, because what could he possibly say?

‘I didn’t mean it?’ ‘It was an accident?’

Oh, please.

She motions to her lawyer - some guy she hired off of craigslist, Doug, if she remembers correctly - to hand her the necessary papers. The real reason she came here this morning.

Eyes glazed over and with the tremor of a baby deer taking its first few steps, Doug hands her the adoption papers.

“I want custody of Abby,” she says. Partly for the money, partly because I can’t trust my nephew to keep her safe. Jane leaves that part unsaid, but she’s sure her nephew can fill in the gaps.

Mike shifts in the seat, sitting up a little. His frown deepens. “And if I say no?” There’s something in his tone, like he’s secretly begging Jane not to take his little sister away. A small child asking their caregiver not to turn the lights out because they’re scared of what’s lurking in the dark.

But she’s not that nice.

“Then, I’ll have to escalate it further, and if the court decides to remove her from your custody, you’ll never see her again.” And that’s not a threat. A threat is petty and unproven. Jane doesn’t make threats. It’s a promise.

Mike deflates. Without her wanting to, in his place is a younger version of Mike. Cuter, with big brown eyes, and dark (almost black) curls to match. (“When are mommy and daddy coming back?”)

She shakes her head. The past version of her nephew disappears. The current one stares at her with concern, or maybe that’s fear for her mental state. At least now he knows how she feels.

The school bell rings.

“Well, until next week,” the teacher says.

-x-x-x-

“So,” Mike starts, picking at the bowl of cereal he originally poured for Abby, but since she decided at the last second she didn’t want it, it’s his now. His sister colors at their dining room table. A rare sight, as she usually prefers hiding away in her room. “How was school?”

Nothing. The sounds of crayon on paper continue.

He purses his lips. “Your teacher told me, you guys are learning about animals. What’s that about?”

Nothing.

Mike sighs. “Okay.” He knew it was useless trying to reach her. Her teacher was clearly wrong. Center of Abby’s pictures or not, she doesn’t care if he’s here with her or not. “You can go if you want.”

Instantly, his sister is rushing to her room, art supplies clutched in her arms. A moment later she emerges, arms free, and heads straight for their television.

That’s right, he remembers. It’s Thursday, which means a new episode of Ab’s favorite show.

Mike quietly laughs to himself. He used to rush to the TV on Friday nights to see reruns of Days of Our Lives and The Young and the Restless, though back then he had to fight against two parents who wanted the living room to themselves, and a….

He swallows, looking sideways into the kitchen. The calendar on the wall is a couple months off. He’ll have to change that….eventually.

As soon as he hears the telltale jingle of My Little Pony, Mike digs into his pocket. The card he shoved in there earlier is creased but thankfully not ripped.

He stares at the number for a solid minute, before building up the courage to call Mr. Raglan up. He taps his teeth together, twisting in his seat from side to side. The phone rings, once, twice. Mike thinks of hanging up, but the thought of not paying rent for a second month in a row stops him. It’s halfway through the third ring when the phone’s finally picked up.

“Hello? Hello, hello?”

“Hi, it’s Mike Schmidt.”

Steve Raglan laughs, the sound crackly due to the poor connection. He wonders how many other poor souls had to grit their teeth and bear the humiliation of asking for help from someone so callous and unconcerned. Or maybe everyone else is smart enough to just take the job offer right off the bat. Smarter than Mike at least, not that that’s anything new.

“Mister I’m too good for anything,” Mr. Raglan jokes.

Against his will, Mike’s eye twitches. He forces a laugh. “Yeah, um…I was actually wondering if that job was still open?”

“Yes, of course. When can you start?”

“As soon as possible would be good.”

Another laugh. Mike somehow manages to not groan.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now, get a piece of paper and a pen. I’ll give you directions to the restaurant.”

-x-x-x-

Mike meets Max at the front door. Her hair and clothes are slightly damp from the rain. “Hey, Max.” He hands her a towel to dry off with.

“Hi, Mike,” she murmurs. A messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Likely her college textbooks. “Have fun.” The smile she sends him is downright mischievous.

“Oh, so much fun.” He pulls his jacket on. “Uh…we don’t have a lot in the cupboards, but you can help yourself. I should be home by 6:30, but if I’m not here by then or you have any concerns-”

“Call you,” Max finishes. “I know, I know. Now, go. Otherwise you’ll be late. I heard the east bound is starting to flood a little, and we both know your car can barely handle an unflooded road.”

Mike nods. “Right. Thanks again, Max. I couldn’t do it without you.” And he really couldn’t. The only other person that he trusts to watch Abby is his aunt, and she’d use every second he’s gone to interrogate his sister or go through their (read: his) belongings. And even then, she’d expect to be paid.

He winces sympathetically. “Max, I can’t pay you tonight.”

Max, who has settled on her usual spot on the couch, dismisses him with a wave. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

Mike smiles at the ground. “Right.”

-x-x-x-

Vanessa watches the restaurant from across the street. The unemployment office is ironically a perfect cover for her. Enough drug deals have been made in this parking lot to warrant a police officer being stationed here.

The rain makes it a little difficult to see out her windshield, especially because she turned her car off to blend in more.

Her phone vibrates with texts every so often. She knows who they belong to, and she doesn’t want to look.

A car eventually pulls into the parking lot. It’s rundown, which is to be expected. The people he goes after aren’t usually part of a higher tax bracket.

Vanessa waits for a little while. Let the new guy settle in for the night. Otherwise it might look like she was waiting for him, and wouldn’t that be crazy?

She pulls into Freddy’s parking lot a few minutes after midnight. A wave of nostalgia crashes over her as she looks at the building. So many memories here….

Her phone vibrates again, so she opts to leave it in the car. It’s not like he ever says anything important.

Vanessa rings the doorbell. Most of the time, the new security hire answers the door immediately upon seeing that she’s a police officer. Apparently, the new guy is not like most people, because it takes him, not one, not two, but five rings of the buzzer for him to open the door.

He cracks the door open a little, eyes narrow. “Can I help you…officer?” His voice is groggy, like he just woke up from a nap. But that’s impossible. He just got here twenty minutes ago.

“Mhm. You must be the new security hire.”

The guy continues to stare at her, seemingly unable to find words. Maybe he’s on drugs? It wouldn’t be the first hire to be on something.

Vanessa catches a glimpse of something dripping from the new hire’s arm. Red. “You’re bleeding,” she says.

“Oh, It’s nothing. I’m sure I can patch it up.”

Definitely drugs. He seems shaky, but that could be because of the blood loss. The wound doesn’t look deep, but it wouldn’t hurt to patch it up.

Seeing an opening, Vanessa slides into the restaurant. “I know where they keep the first-aid kit. C’mon.”

It never gets easier, being here. It feels like every time she’s forced to do this, dust gathers another layer and the place falls apart just a little bit more.

Still, this is Freddy’s. So, she can’t help but feel the tiniest bit excited.

She hands the kit off to him. “Bloodshot eyes, racing heart,” she observes, looking over him. The new hire seems to tuck into himself, as if hiding from her analytic stare. “Could only be Freddy’s.”

“Wh-what?”

“This place tends to get to people,” she explains, taking over bandaging his arm. “Which is exactly why you won’t last.” Vanessa extends a hand, done with fixing his arm up. “Vanessa Shelly.”

The new hire looks between her outstretched hand and her face. He takes her hand. His grip is sweaty and loose. “Mike Schmidt.”

She notes the bags under his big brown eyes, the sickly pale tint to his skin, and his worn clothes. He looks - and she feels bad thinking it - pathetic. Pathetic and sad and very, very lost.

“So, Mike. How about a tour?”

Without waiting for him, Vanessa heads out the door. If he’s smart, he’ll follow. Which isn’t saying much, because he took this job.

He probably didn’t have a choice. A voice whispers in her head. None of them do.

She argues back. They have more of a choice than the children did.

The voice says nothing to that.

-x-x-x-

Mike follows Vanessa into the main lobby. She stops in front of the stage. The one he passed on his way into the office. A thick curtain hangs in front, blocking their view of what sits behind it.

“What is this?” He asks, crossing his arms. Something about this - a police officer showing him around - doesn’t sit right with Mike. He knows that she’s likely just trying to be nice. Maybe it’s even procedure. There is a lot of dangerous machinery here. But still…

“I want to introduce you to the band.” She hits a large button on the wall. The curtain slides open dramatically. “Freddy,” Vanessa gestures to a bear-esque animatronic in front. “Chica.” A chicken off to the side of Freddy; she holds a cupcake on a platter. “And Bonnie.” A bunny standing on the other side of Freddy, a guitar in his paws.

Music starts playing. The song is familiar. Really, really familiar. Mike furrows his eyebrows. He glances at Vanessa who is watching the performance with stars in her eyes. She leans closer to him, still focused on the show in front of them.

When she speaks, there’s a note of childish excitement in her voice. “Wanna dance?” The question catches Mike off guard. He looks at her, head cocked to the side. Did she really, actually want to dance with him of all people? They just met.

Thankfully, he’s saved from the humiliation of answering. The music abruptly cuts off, and there’s a very obvious spark of electricity.

“Whoa,” he mutters under his breath, jolting. This building must be older than he thought.

Vanessa frowns, seemingly disappointed. “Maybe next time.”

Next time?

He watches her head back to the office.

There’s going to be a next time?

-x-x-x-

“Your brother is hopeless.”

“Yeah…well…uh…your sister is weird.”

“Better than hopeless.”

#cross posted on ao3 #fnaf fanfic #fnaf vanessa #fnaf #fnaf au #vanessa x mike #mike schmidt #schmelly #aunt jane #mike and jane #max fnaf

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