The Archive

All is Hell in the Afton Family (1/?)

~Time for a different short story! It's a lil different from the canon timeline but hey, my story my rules >:3~

OC: Dorothea Schmidt

Inspiration/Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's (FNAF)

~~~~~

Chapter 1: Slow

It was a slower day than usual at Freddy's with only a few tables filled and minimal screams of excitement from the children. Dorothea wandered about, taking orders as they came and clearing tables as they went. After a while, she was able to sit back behind the prize counter and relax due to the lack of newcomers and orders. There was no doubt that the place smelled absolutely awful, but Dot marked it up to the absurd amount of dad's either smoking cigarettes or chewing tobacco. Call it denial but she refused to think it was something rotting.

"Earth to Dot?" Mike called while waving his hand in front of her face. She jumped as she snapped back to reality with a chuckle.

"Sorry, Mike. Nothing to do so might as well daydream y'know?" She explained somewhat sheepishly. Mike only chuckled and hopped up to sit on the counter with her.

"Yeah, there's really nothing better to do," He sighed, clearly bored.

"Don't you think it's weird? How slow business is?" Dorothea asked, craning her head slightly to look up at him.

"It's unsettling more than anything. That smell doesn't help either," Mike remarked, wrinkling his nose at the smell as the AC kicked on, wafting it everywhere.

"It smells like something died,"

"Hopefully my dad," Mike half joked, earning a punch to the arm and a laugh from Dot. The two adults fell into a mini chuckle fit, simply enjoying each other's company and humor.

"You're such a- oh! Hello, Mr. Afton," Dot greeted, suddenly sitting upright a little more.

"Why aren't you taking orders, Dorothea?" William asked flatly, dark eyes boring into Dot's dual-colored ones.

"I- um," She stammered, growing uncomfortable from the eye contact. "I've taken them all since business has been slow, so I was just-,"

"Slacking off with my son?" He added with a minor head tilt and small, creepy smile before Dot slowly slipped off the counter.

"Can you not scare our last waitress away, Father?" Mike growled while jumping down off of the counter and placing a protective arm around Dorothea's shoulders.

"There are things you could both be doing other than- flirting at the prize counter," William argued and Dot tensed as Mike's grip on her shoulder tightened.

"Um- could we not start a fight in front of the kids?" She squeaked, trying to look anywhere else.

"Let's go to the office then," Mike grumbled before grabbing Dot's sleeve with his bandaged hand and tugging her along with him. He never held her hand or wrist which she found odd, but she chalked it up to it was awkward for him to hold with all her bracelets and rings.

"Just stay behind me," Mike whispered and Dorothea needed a minute to figure out what he said thanks to how thick his British accent had gotten. That was her telltale that he was really really pissed off.

The office was cramped, stuffy and overall, a place Dot couldn't stand the eeriness of. Mike gently nudged her behind him the moment his father stepped in.

"Explain why you two would rather flirt behind the prize counter instead of cleaning up after the kids or something," William demanded while staring down his son.

"Have you ever tried to clean up after a kid while 20 others are running around them? I can't tell you how many times they've tried to eat the Lysol wipes," Mike sassed with a sharp blue glare. The worst part about being a witness to the father son duo arguments was how you could never get a word in or slip away in silence. Even if you weren't the main source of the argument.

"There are still things to do around here," William replied, eyes flicking over to the southern woman still guarded by his eldest son. He relished in the way she looked away, frightened.

"Like what? No one knows where that god awful smell is coming from so it's not like we can clean it and air freshener does nothing against it!" Mike barked, talking with his hands now as well.

"Wipe down tables, clean dishes, make sure nothing gets in or on the animatronics," Will listed while looking down at his hands and counting a finger with each task.

"Uhm, we can't really wipe down tables when they aren't dirty or when kids are actively eating at them and the kitchen staff are doing the dishes in their free time," Dot explained sheepishly, her hands coming to lightly wrap around Mike's biceps as she peeked out around him. She didn't notice how he tensed slightly at the contact before composing himself again.

"And weren't you the one who made the rule that absolutely no one is allowed on stage while the animatronics are performing?" Mike challenged and both of the young adults watched as William's face twisted with rage before he exhaled harshly through his nose, turned on his heel and stormed out.

Dorothea visibly relaxed once her boss' footsteps faded away, resting her head on Mike's firm back.

"Sorry about him, Dot. He's a real dickhead sometimes," Mike apologized quietly while turning to face the woman he secretly admired. For a moment, Mike took the time to take in her appearance. Her pink tipped brunette hair wasn't frizzed out from darting around and taking orders for once and her makeup was a little stronger than usual. Mainly the lipstick and there was a faint sharp pink point at the outer corner of her eyes.

"I-It's okay. He just...creeps me out I guess," Dorothea said finally, keeping her voice low so as to not risk possibly getting eavesdropped on.

"Yeah, he does that. It's how he gets to you. Trust me I dealt with it for 17 years until I moved out," Mike chuckled out the last part, instinctively trying to lighten the mood.

"Guess that's why you're so 'stone cold', huh?" She teased with a laugh.

"Who said that?"

"The waitress who trained me. Sweet old woman really," She reminisced with a small smile.

"So, I've got a reputation, I see?" Mike said while stepping over to the left doorway of the office, waiting for the woman to follow.

"Oh yes. 'Stay away from that Michael, Dorothea. He's a real stone cold bastard'," She recited while mimicking the old woman's voice.

"Is she wrong?" He asked while raising an eyebrow and resting his shoulder on the door jam.

"Hmm...I'd say...," She started before pausing and walking up to him. "She's right. You're a handsome bastard though," Dot nearly purred as she leaned up to him and ran her index finger up the column of his throat to his chin that spread a rosy color from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Dot flashed a smirk to him before walking away down the dark and mildly dinghy hallway.

Mike couldn't help but swear under his breath before plopping down on the uncomfortable black swivel chair, attempting to compose himself. 'That had to have meant something, right? Or was she just being her regular self? Does she flirt like that with everyone or just me? She probably flirts with everyone. Why flirt with me? She doesn't know about my actual appearance. I'd probably send her to therapy if I showed her.' Mike thought, mind racing a million miles a minute. He was more down bad for Dorothea than he thought...