Chapter Text
“Careful, Spring!” Mike exclaimed, lunging over to catch the fragile star before it hit the ground. He laughed lightly as he straightened and handed the star back to the tall animatronic. Spring Bonnie’s ears were angled slightly down, and he seemed sheepish as he took the star back.
“Sorry, Mike,” he said, before he turned back to the tree and reached up, securing the star in its place at the top, this time without fumbling it.
“Don’t worry about it - the tree’s looking great, buddy.”
“Aye, hold it steady ol’ rabbit,” Foxy said, “I just about got these lights strung up.” He limped around the tree, stringing up the last of the vibrantly colored lights. Mike took a step back, and took in the picture of a night’s hard work.
It’d been the animatronics’ idea, but he’d helped them work on it wholeheartedly. The Fazbear Family Arcade had been decked out for the holidays - there were colorful lights strung up along the walls and windows, decorative paper cutouts hanging from the ceiling in all sorts of shapes for all sorts of holidays, and of course a christmas tree in the corner that was currently in the process of being fully decorated. Mike had even purchased a collection of ornaments - some by request, and others that he just thought the animatronics would like.
Overall, it brought a vibrant holiday cheer to the Arcade. Mike, though, was mostly just caught up in the festive cheer of his little mechanical family. Freddy’s music box was twinkling softly as he helped Chica string up some popcorn lights, Bonnie was tapping a single foot as he sprinkled tinsel on the tree, and Foxy and Spring Bonnie were chattering away cheerfully as they finished up the other tree decorations. It was the first time any of them had gotten to celebrate the holidays together - and now that Mike knew how important it was to the animatronics, he would make sure they got to do it every year.
“It looks fantastic in here, everyone,” Mike called, grabbing their attention, “way to go. And you know what? The kids are gonna love it, too.”
“You know, I am sure the kids would love to help us decorate, too,” Freddy said, “we can offer them paper, let them make snowflakes or pictures or anything they would like. We could hang them on the ceiling, for all to see.”
“Oh, that would be a lot of fun!” Spring Bonnie said, “the kids love arts and crafts.”
“Hey, yeah,” Mike agreed, “we can make special days for it, even. You’re right - the kids would love that.”
“Oh, I know!” Chica said, “we could make cookies, and let the little ones decorate them!”
“That’d be a blast, too,” Mike said, smiling, “I can arrange that, no problem.” Further cheered, the animatronics went back to what they were doing, chattering among themselves. Mike wandered among them, helping where he could and just chatting where he couldn’t.
Inexplicably, Mike felt his cheer gradually fading as the evening passed. It was something about the holiday decorations, about the group working together. It rustled up some old memory of his, one of another family that had - once upon a time - been whole. As it dug its way further out of the recesses of his mind, Mike watched the animatronics for a while more. Then, when he couldn’t ignore it any longer, he slipped away and headed for the back office. Once there, he sat in his chair and dug out the wallet in his pocket and, subsequently, the folded up picture tucked inside of it.
The picture was old - the color had begun to fade, leaving patches of beige-colored hues in various places. The picture itself was wrinkled, the corners bent, consequences of the lackluster treatment it had received at Mike’s hand. It spent most of its time folded up inside of his wallet, and he didn’t often take it out. It was the only picture Mike had of his entire family, and it was one of the few happy memories he had left of them. But he usually kept the picture tucked away, because even if the memory and the picture were happy, he couldn't look at it without feeling a heavy sense of loss.
Mike’s happy memories of his family were few and far between - and the one captured in the picture was perhaps his happiest. The Afton family had spent the day at a Christmas tree farm, had enjoyed warm donuts and cold cider and each other's company. Mike, being the oldest, had gotten to help his father cut down their chosen tree. He'd felt like a real Big Boy, and even now could remember the way his father had ruffled his hair. Thanked him for his help.
Mike's hold on the picture tightened further. He grit his teeth, hating the heat pricking at the corners of his eyes. Something rose hot inside of him - sorrow and anger mixed together in a heavy, tight emotion. They were all there. His brother, Jeremy, who was dead and now gone, lost to Mike’s own hands. His sister Elizabeth, gone who-knew-where - Mike never had managed to track her down, and his hope of finding her alive shrunk with each passing year. His mother, who had left the same year the picture was taken - never to be seen again. And of course, his father, who Mike couldn’t help but blame for almost all of it. The man who was a monster in a father’s costume, smiling with his arm around his wife and a hand on his son’s shoulder.
Mike was standing on his father's left, a whole of twelve years old, and beaming like he’d just won the lottery. Jeremy was standing between his parents, sandwiched up next to their legs, one hand gripping their mother's dress in a white-knuckled grip. Even at a tender five years old, Jeremy had been a nervous, careful child. It had only gotten worse when their mother left. Nothing in the picture suggested the woman would soon do so, though - she seemed happy enough. She was standing next to William, smiling in his hold, and her arms were full of a little girl, swaddled in winter clothes. Elizabeth - hardly a full year old at the time.
The heat in his chest burst, and Mike’s vision filled with tears. He set the picture on the desk in front of him and gripped his knees tightly, the pressure building in his head as he tried not to audibly sob. Ridiculous - it was absolutely ridiculous. It had been a fun day - a happy day. His animatronics were happy, the restaurant was full of holiday cheer, and there was no reason for him to so much as think about his biological family. There was even less reason to let it affect him so strongly. But the logic was lost on him - the tears began to stream down his cheeks, no matter how hard he tried to stem them.
“Mike?”
Mike shot to his feet and away from the desk, turning slightly to look towards the security screen - anywhere but at Spring Bonnie, who’s concerned look Mike could feel burning into him. He resisted the urge to reach up and rub at his eyes, knowing it’d give him away.
“Hey, Mike, what’s the matter? Why’re you crying?” Spring insisted anyway, moving into the room.
“Nothing. It’s - nothing. I just need to be alone for a couple of minutes, alright? I’ll be out in a bit.”
Spring Bonnie didn’t respond right away, and when Mike turned slightly to look, he saw the golden rabbit peering at the picture on the desk. Alarmed, Mike grabbed it up and began to refold it. His hands were shaky as he stuffed the photo back into his wallet, and his wallet back into his pocket. He moved to say something else, but before he could he felt Spring Bonnie move closer, and then he pulled Mike into a tight hug.
“I don’t think you do,” Spring Bonnie said, “I think what you need is to come spend more time with us.”
Mike shook his head against the animatronic’s fur and half-heartedly tried to push away. When Spring Bonnie didn’t let him go, though, he didn’t bother to keep trying. Instead, he let out a hitching, shaky breath and leaned against the animatronic.
“I’m alright,” he muttered, “really. I just...I was just thinking of the past. I don’t want to worry anyone.”
“Aw Mike, we’re your family, you know. It’s our job to worry about you. You don’t have to hide away when you’re sad - let us help you.” And Mike found himself choking up all over again - still sad, but also touched, reminded once again that despite everything, he wasn’t truly without family any longer. He had the animatronics - and he could always count on them being there for him. Even when no one else in the world was. “C’mon Mike,” Spring Bonnie continued, and Mike didn’t fight it as the rabbit stepped away and laid a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him out of the office and back to the main room.
The others stopped and looked over when Mike and Spring Bonnie entered. For a long second, they just looked, and Mike squirmed slightly, feeling uncomfortable in their gazes. He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone - his cheeks were still too wet, his eyes were undoubtedly red. He waited for one of them to call him out on it, make him talk about it - he just hoped they wouldn’t.
“Mikey! C’mon and give me an extra hand over here,” Foxy called, finally breaking the silence, “the lights on the window fell off, and they be givin’ me a rough time goin’ back up.”
“Wait! Mike, you’ve gotta help me pick out the best cookie cutter shapes!” Chica said, “I want to make sure they’re perfect for the children!”
“And you both can wait, because I’m pretty sure I managed to get some tinsel wrapped up in one of my joints. I’m gonna need your little human fingers to get it out, Mike,” Bonnie said from where he was sitting on the edge of the stage, one of his thigh plates propped open.
“Don’t you lot start fighting now,” Freddy intoned, “the night is still plenty young, and I am sure Mike will be able to help you all before it is over. Therefore, Mike, if you could come and give me a hand pinning this santa hat to my top hat, I would much appreciate it.”
Mike looked around at each of them, and as he did he felt as Spring Bonnie’s grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. He glanced up at the rabbit, who smiled back at him - and the look was contagious. Even though his eyes still stung, and his chest was still tight, Mike couldn’t help but smile slightly back. He reached up and gave the rabbit’s paw a pat, and then he slipped away.
“Alright,” Mike said, and if his voice was rough, no one mentioned it, “let me get that tinsel out of you, Bonnie. Everyone else just hang tight - like Freddy said, there’s plenty of night left to go around."
And as it turned out, Spring Bonnie was right. As Mike helped the animatronics out over the course of the next few hours, the tightness in his chest and the sorrow on his shoulders eased. No one asked him about it, or prodded him to say anything, or even so much as brought it up. They simply continued to embrace the cheer of holiday decorating, and as time passed, it reinvigorated Mike, too. By the end of the night, when Mike was tucking himself into the office to get some sleep, the picture in his wallet was once again pushed safely into the back of his mind.
Mike had lost his biological family, and that would always cause him pain, but it did not mean he had no family at all. He had found his own, had created a family that cared and nourished its members. It was a strange family, far from typical, but it was his - and he knew that they would have his back, no matter what. Just as he would always be there for them, in return.
As he drifted off, he made himself a promise. He wouldn’t let the holiday melancholy get the better of him again - instead, he’d put his energy into making sure it was the best holiday season the animatronics had ever experienced. No. The best holiday season any of them had ever experienced.
And despite it all, Mike fell asleep with a smile, dreaming ahead to all the things the holiday season might bring.