Dayshift At Freddy's Oneshots!

Requested By Townmarble

(A/N: Hi fellows. I'm not sure whether I'm back, but here's something to chew on :3 )

(Request Was: Henryxmale/enby reader)

 Henry Miller. The Man With The Plan.

You weren't quite sure what to make of that. You prided yourself in getting a good feel for people, but Henry was both see-through and an abyss- everything he did was an act, just like that old circus you had met him in, all those years ago. When you had let him whisk you across America in pursuit of the country itself. The sights, the sounds, the smells. In pursuit of lace edges and taffeta waistcoats, green pressed against magenta until they wound up in an old wooden diner, what seemed to be half a world away from New York. From the start.

Henry Miller loved, above all things, music. Typically classical- Bizet, Chopin, Tchaikovsky. He would fiddle every so often with Freddy Fazbender's music box until he played the desired melody, like a demented puppet-radio no one had the sense to confiscate from him in childhood. Then he would dance, and you would join him.

Every so often William would change things- hijack Freddy to play Rick Astley instead, or Bag Raiders- so he could join in the fun, but more often than not he would stay out of the way. The latter was the aubergine man's course of action that day- he hung back, absorbed in his own machinations: a springlocked mechanism that may have been some sort of IED.

You didn't mind, eyes trained upon Henry's slow movements- pushing locks of hair behind his ears and away from his face, rhythmic movements of his feet painting dark patterns on the floor tinted pale from dust. Somebody needed to sweep. Certainly not you. You wanted to dance.

So you stood. Entwined your step with Miller's, caught his hands in the middle of the waltz. Dipped him just in time, and smiled when a surprised sound escaped the confines of his typical baritone. You didn't usually allow him to take the woman's position in the waltz. Not that he didn't know it.

The sound was interrupted by a cough. You quite easily chalked it up to the dust stirring in the air.

"This old building will kill you someday, Henry. Good lord."

A deeper rosette spread across his magenta face. It always made him blush, you saying his name. "So long as you'll be there, I won't be displeased."

A whir of movement, and suddenly you were the one twirled and dipped, a kiss pressed against your cheek. Tone deadpan and words teasing, he murmured into your ear- "Why the dance now, then? Have I done something to deserve it?"

You smiled, and let him consider that answer himself. "Maybe I just like to be in lockstep with you."

"A marriage of flesh," Henry mused, only an inch from your face. Though you could see his eyes trailing away, mind growing restless from a simple dance. "Fusing..."

"Oh?"

"Melding together."

In an instant, he was a pace away, then two, clapping his hands together once.

William startled, across the room. A springlock snapped, driving half into his hand. He cursed.

Henry paid no mind. Grabbed his free hand, and pulled him along with a blunt cry of "Come now, Willy! Help me with this idea!"

In a moment, the door was closed, and your company was gone. You deemed it acceptable. He would be back.

(Fun fact: I just recently played through DSAF 3 again, and I think Matt Berry would nail the role of Henry.)