Michael's Son (FNAF)

2.

Light thumps echoed in the house as Gregory and Michael were in the living room. "Come on, you've got it!" Michael says encouraging his son as he slowly stands upwards on his own, the small boy was holding tightly onto the coffee table.

Gregory stood up and looked up at Michael excitedly, "Good job!" Michael exclaims and picks up his son. The adult spun him around, "Such a strong little man." He says and ruffle's Gregory's quickly growing in hair despite his young age. 

Michael held Gregory in his arms and walked to the kitchen, he was running out of food but he had no current job. Who would hire a walking burnt corpse, well unless he could figure out a way to not look like that. 

Gregory groans catching his father's attention before pointing to the fridge. "You're hungry aren't you?" The boy nods in agreement. "I'll figure out a way to grab some food, promise." He says and the boy tilts his head not understanding what was being explained to him.

Michael chuckles and puts the boy in his high chair, "How about a smoothie?" He asks the boy. One of the things Michael had plenty of was frozen fruit or just fruit and vegetables in general. It was the first thing he bought after Gregory arrived on his porch, and luckily the kid came with a five hundred check for the first grocery trip. 

Michael opens the freezer and grabs the frozen mango and strawberry mix, he had a few bananas in there too. It couldn't hurt to make for the kid, and thankfully he didn't have to eat on his own so it was easier to have food available but sometimes he would have little things to fill the thought of hunger like gum or popcorn.

Michael threw a cup of the fruit into the blender along with the sliced banana before grabbing a jug of orange juice from the fridge to add it in as well. "I'm just glad you aren't a picky eater heh." He jokes to himself, knowing the kid can't understand what is being said fully as he was barely fourteen months old.

Of course, Gregory can eat solid foods already but he just clearly preferred when it was made into a smoothie for him. Michael made no fuss about it, it meant less dishes of plates to clean up and just some cups and the knives used to cut fruit.

As the blender was running, Michael looked around his kitchen, it was in a sad state. It didn't look like a place where a kid lived, it looked like a sad college student's place. 

"Jeez this place could use a new look." He grumbles before stopping the blender and pouring out the smoothie into a sippy cup for his son. "Here you go mate." Michael says and hands the sippy cup to the little boy who quickly grabbed ahold of it and started drinking it.

Michael glanced at what was on top of the kitchen table, a box of some old crap from his childhood home.

He still had the keys to his father's place and it was in his name and fully paid for, but he always felt sick to his non-existent stomach when he entered the house. 

Probably doesn't help that's where he lived after killing his little brother or when his younger sister went missing.

"Maybe there's something in here that could help me out—appearance wise—the funtimes did have some weird effects of humans." He thinks and dumps out the box of nostalgic memories.

Inside the box which now was sprawled out on the kitchen table were stuffed mascots of Fazbear entertainment and some childhood books he used to be read, and some robotic journals from William.

"I forgot about these. I wonder if these could help, he did write his inventions often." Michael thinks and grabs one of the many journals, this one was red with a rough sketch of Circus Baby drawn by a young Elizabeth taped onto the cover. 

"I'll have to read this later, still have to take care of Gregory. Maybe once he's asleep" He thinks and puts the book on the kitchen counter before putting the rest of the objects from his childhood home into the box once again.

Gregory was reaching for Michael and whining about being in his high chair. "One second Greg, I'll release you." He chuckles and puts the last item back into the box.

Michael paused looking at the top item. It was a torn apart foxy plush with a terrible hand stitch job with the head barely hanging o by a few strands of thread. He had tried to stitch it back up for his little brother after the incident, but he wasn't good at sewing back then.

Word count: 790