---Spread Love {FNaF Night Guards x Reader} [BOY]---

Just Getting to Know your Fellow Employee Better

Saturday.

"It'll be good," he said. "I promise you!" he said. 

But it was just another pizza place. Frankly, you were more than a little sick of pizza. If you ever smelled it again you promised you would barf. Luckily, pasta was also listed as an option on the menu. (Of course, the restaurant being Italian.) It took you no hesitation at all to choose that over the sauced concoction sprinkled with cheese and pepperonis. Mike, on the other hand, ordered a mini pizza. At least you didn't vomit all over him like you thought you would.

Mike ordered a pepperoni one, but he started to pick off all the meat slices anyway. You asked him why he got pepperoni if he didn't want to eat the pepperoni. He told you to go fuck yourself and that you shouldn't interfere with his life decisions. You backed off after that.

"Speaking of pepperonis, how do you know jerry? He seems like a pretty rad guy." he placed his hand on his chin, and you considered asking what in the world jeremy had to do with pepperonis but you decided to answer the second part instead.

You said, honestly, that you two had just met on the job.

"Hm, that sounds familiar. As in... that's exactly how we met! Fuckeroo's really does bring people together, huh?" Suddenly he covered his mouth with his fist. "Sorry, nickname slip..." he grunted. "oh also, sorry about the whole 'go fuck yourself' thing i said. Hah. The pepperoni thing kiiiiind of reminded me of my girlfriend."

Girlfriend?! God dammit.

Mike saw your shocked expression but seemed to misinterpret it. "Yeah, can you believe it?! what kind of girlfriend can't let her man pick pepperoni off a pizza? ridiculous." he shook his head. You halfheartedly expressed agreement.

"Doll and I have kind of been going through a rough patch lately..." You figured Doll was his girlfriend's name. "Well, anyway, I'm sure she'll get over it. Enough about me, what about you?" 

You opened your mouth, about to tell him exactly where you were born, what time you were born, and what the weather was like, but a waiter with a nametag spelling out Roberto on his chest just happened to be passing by your table.

"How is the meal?" he asked, the words preprogrammed in to his brain ever since he took the hellish job. you detected a faint italian accent under his sentence. 

"Great, thanks." Mike grabbed his empty glass and offered it up to the man. "More Coke, thanks." 

Roberto took the cup and whisked it off. Mike turned back to you. "Okay, where were we?"

You were going to say that you were just about to tell him your entire life story, before you were rudely interrupted by your "good friend" Roberto. But then you were rudely interrupted AGAIN, by the waiter returning the Coke to the table and running off to attend to more customers. You gave up trying to inform Mike of your 3rd favorite color and asked him to tell you more about Doll. you wanted to more about this BITCH (excuse your french!)

"Oh, Jesus..." he rubbed the back of his neck and fixated his gaze to the left. "You sure?" he looked back at you. "Where do I start..." he sighed. "I probably made her sound worse than she is. There's a reason I'm dating her! She is nice, really. We're just, um, going through a rough patch at the moment." he repeated his words from before.

"Look, I don't know man, we only met like 4 days ago." 

But you insisted he gave you more insight.

"Bahhh." he gave a more intense sigh this time. "Okay. Fine. I probably shouldn't be dumping this on you, but my parents died a few months back." He said it straight and simple. No beating around the bush here! You were slightly taken aback by the bluntness of it all, but he continued. 

"I don't need pity looks, so don't give me them!" he pointed at you accusingly. 

"Honestly, I feel a little bad. Not because they died, but because I don't care at all they died." he ran a hand down his face. "I know that probably makes me a shitty person," he eyed you. "But I'm pretty sure they're where i got it from." he half-smiled. 

"they don't have the cleanest background." He started to pick at his cuticles. "Racism, homophobia... there are a few black marks." he rested his chin on his hand and guided the straw from his drink in to his mouth. "They really didn't like Doll. They--" he paused to quench his thirst. "They didn't like her for being, well, black. 

"Anyway, it's really fucking upsetting that a lot of people think like that, these days... Things will get better in the future. Who knows! Thirty, forty, years from now, people'll probably be more accepting. But now... we can only wait."

You didn't expect to get such a speech from this guy, of all people! The guy who looked like he worked at a low end job in a filthy pizzeria. Oh, wait. But you were ecstatic, nonetheless, to find his never ending support of what one would call "less privileged individuals."

"So... that's why I don't really feel bad about my parents. I haven't taken it that hard... but that's what doll is mad at me about." He transitioned to a high pitched and squeaky voice. "'They're your parents! You should be upset for them! They raised you!' ..Ugh." he looked off to the side and jutted his jaw out. "I don't know why she sympathizes for them. 'Heartless bastard' my ass." he huffed. 

You weren't exactly sure how to respond. What were you asking about again? 

You looked down at your plate and realized you hadn't yet cleaned up your pasta. You got to work on the noodles, savoring each bite. They were okay. Looking around the shabby interior of the place, you could figure it didn't have the best food either.

Mike looked at his watch. "We should probably finish up soon. Doll'll be mad if I'm not home by 3." 

He waved good old Roberto over and requested a doggy bag. Roberto quickly adhered, bringing the check, too, and Mike piled the 6 remaining slices of pizza in it. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to order a large. 

You said goodbye to Mike, (And Roberto!) leaving the check with him because he graciously said he would pay. 

Though, already out of the building, you smacked your forehead with your palm. You had forgotten to inquire about his knowledge of Freddy's nightshift!  So, maybe you would have ask Mike out to lunch again one day. 

(...Platonically, of course...)

A/N: not too sure about this chapter... but it shall be posted nonetheless! You know, lots of people say they want to have been born in the 80s but I'm not sure it would be so great.  Think of all the discrimination (against multiple groups)! and, after all, we don't need to have been born in the 80s to bask in the greatness of it's music and movies! plus, maybe it's for the best we left the fashion behind...