A series of stupid ideas and (mis)fortune, hosted by an Orange Guy

Holidays and other evils

A/N:
Not really beta'd! ;n;
I'm sorry, but everyone is busy over the holidays... didn't help that I only managed to finish it... two days or so before.
Eh. An unbeta'd chapter is better than nothing, I hope.

-

There were few things as horrible to the general restaurant as the holidays.
There were natural disasters, murder, rabies outbreak and holidays, in that order, but holidays happened more regularly.
But, you may ask, aren't the holidays one of the most profitable times of the year?
Yes, indeed-
Well, actually I don't really know, because I never worked in a restaurant, but uh- I'd assume that. Anyways, even if it were, it wasn't for Freddy's!
Why's that, you don't ask because you know about Freddy's incompetence?
Easy too, because of Freddy's incompetence!
Then again, it was hard to blame EVERYBODY at Freddy's for that, it was more... the upper management.
"SIIIIIIIIiiiiiIIIIIIIIR?" Phone Guy rushed out of the office, his voice cracking. "DID YOU ORDER 3000$ WORTH OF FAIRY LIGHTS?!"
The Orange Guy was surprised, but probably more about being caught so early than about being screamed at. "I mean... yes? What is the problem with that?"
"WHAT IS THE P-PROBLEM?! SIR, YOU CANNOT JUST SPEND THIS AMOUNT OF MONEY!" In utter horror the red-headed man stood frozen in place, before beginning to pace around, his boss actually seemingy not understanding his worry didn't help.
"Why not? Don't you like Fairy Lights, Phoney?" Cheerful he smiled.
"Y-yes, I do, but- 3000$ is far too excessive! Where would we even put all those l-lights?!"
"EVERYWHERE!"
Phone Guy shook his head. "I... I can't believe you've done this... I thought you would leave it to me..."
Suddenly Old Sport jumped up and proceeded to take something out of his pocket-
It were fairy lights.
"LIGHTEN UP, PHONEY-!" Wheezing he stopped, holding his stomach with laughter, while Phone Guy looked at the string of lamps, wondering if he could use this to ki- attack himself. Or his boss.
And if that wasn't bad enough, out of the vents came loud laughter too... now two creatures in this cursed place enjoyed puns, which had turned Freddy's into the next level of hell.
Bad pun? Bad.
Bad pun followed by at least five minutes of insane cackling? Even worse.
"Y-you two, calm down! This is uh- this is not fun!" Hurt and insulted Phoney looked in between the vents and the boss, both not showing any sign of stopping.
But finally, Old Sport strolled over to pat the Phone and actually properly wrap the lights around his head. "Aw, come on! Don't you like a bit of holiday cheer? You aren't green, but still a Grinch?"
"I'm not a Grinch-" Shortly he paused, a bit taken aback. "I... I actually like Christmas... but... I mean... you make me really anxious."
"Loosen up!" He snickered as he did exactly that to the string. "I promise nothing horrible will happen! THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS US! TO KEEP THIS DAY FULLY SAVE!"
"I think we're beyond the power of Christ..." Then he shook his head, trying to calm down. "No... no. You're right, sir. This is... a good holiday. Nothing will go wrong, it CAN'T."
Looking around he actually felt better.
It was beautiful- he had decorated it himself, with a bit of help from the other machines- especially from Lefty, who seemed to help with a certain grim satisfaction. Maybe that was because they told Davetrap and Old Sport to stay away as soon as they came too close, seeing as they were a dangerous factor around anything with-
Around ANYTHING.
The result had been well worth keeping a so close eye on the two evildoers.
This view of the peacefully glowing lights and candles, together with the Orange Guy playing around with the lights that were now on his head, which almost felt like someone playing with hair, he relaxed almost completely-
"OLD SPORT! THE FUCK DO YA THINK YOU'RE DOIN'?!" Dave jumped out of seemingly nowhere and pretty much straight up tried to tackle them, but thankfully both him and the Phone managed to doge in the last second.
"Decorating our Phone Guy?" Mildly worried Old Sport looked over at him, taking out a few more colorful lights as an offering to the enraged bunny. "You can have some too!"
Grumpy Dave stomped over to the Phone Guy and ripped off the lights violently, as if it was some sort of personal offense. "He ain't be needin' those. Phoney's are always way too cheery! I am the one who needs all of your lights! Why aren't cha decorating ME?!"
"That will be a bit much... you can't really carry that around all the time-"
Before he could continue his sentence, Dave began shoving the lights down his maw. "I can carry all of 'em, just hand 'em over."
But before he could manage to finish up shoving all of it inside, multiple loud crashes sounded, distorted by an echo and amplified by the shape of the vent they came out of, louder and LOUDER until a bunch of cables came SHOT, RIGHT OUT OF THE ENTRANCE AND ONTO THE RABBIT MAN.
"I- I W-W-WANT SOM-SOME-E TOO! I- I AM HUNGR-YY!"
Apparently Funtime Fraghetti thought that it was some sort of delicious snack that Dave shoved down himself and was now on top of him, forcing its tentacles down the man's suit- in the terrifying way, not the Japanese way- and got it back up, with Purple Guy screeching in protest.
"STOP THAT YA FUCKIN' NOODLE POODLE THOSE ARE MINE- I STOLE 'EM FIRST! GET YOUR OWN FUCKIN' LIGHTS!" A normal person probably wouldn't have survived the metal cords scraping over them, thankfully Dave's skin had a defense mechanism that made it more resilient than sandpaper.
"FROMMMM WH-WHERE!? I- I NEEEEEEEEEeeeeEEEEED iT!" Now on top of Davetrap, it looked around searchingly, until he spotted Old Sport still holding the colorful chain of lights and jumped at him.
If you have ever seen a spider jump, you know the terror that Orange Guy experienced, at least partially. Just... the fear of that view times the size that the animatronic was bigger than the aforementioned spider.
Thankfully this time the creature DIDN'T try to shove himself down his eyeholes, but instead just proceeded to eat it right out of his hands and pockets.
Due to a mixture of terror and fascination Old Sport didn't move and simply watched as the things disappeared inside of the bear, slowly being wrapped around its wires seemingly by itself, turning Funtime Fraghetti into... Christmastime Fraghetti.
After that the snake-bear slithered towards the nearest table and snatched a santa hat to put on with a satisfied giggle. "S-Santa FrEDDY Is C-COMING to TOW-HOWN~! YOu B-BETTER WATCH OUt!"
Phone Guy slowly turned to Old Sport, not saying a word, but his eyeless stare said more than a thousand of them.
You promised nothing bad would happen.
Shrugging Old Sport gave a thumbs up. No worries!
LIES.
ALL THE WORRIES.
BECAUSE A CERTAIN OTHER FREDDY WITH A SANTA HAT CAME RUN DOWN TO CHALLENGE HIM.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A SANTA FREDDY!? YOU PUNY FAKE! CHEAP IMITATION!" Even Fraghetti looked surprised as the robot stormed up to them. "YOU LOOK NOTHING LIKE A SANTA! YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE LIMBS! I HAVE FOUR ARMS, TO GIVE OUT PRESENTS FOUR TIME AS FAST- YOU ON THE OTHER HAND HAVE WHAT?"
"I- I can F-FIT tHROUgh chim-chimneys!" Happily the demented machine answered, seemingly unaware that would only provoke the bear even more.
"CHIMNEY CLIMBING FIGHT! I WILL SHOW YOU, I WILL FIT PERFECTLY-"
"None of you are good Santas." AN NEW CHALLENGER APPROACHED. With a quiet humming Candy Cadet emerged, also equipped with a hat and actually a bag filled with candy. "I am the true Santa. I am Candy Cadet. Come get your Christmas candy here! I have candy all day. Especially on Christmas day! Candy. Candy. Candy."
Rockstar Freddy was PERSONALLY insulted. "You look NOTHING like a Santa! You over glorified money laundering scheme should be ASHAMED, to even DARE to call yourself a Santa!"
There were no emotions visible on the blinking robot's face, mainly because there was no face and the thing probably wasn't able to feel actual emotions in the first place. It only began talking again in its unsettling mechanical way.
"There is only one solution." Invested both bears inched closer, to listen to whatever the machine would propose, hoping it would solve their little predicament. "I will now tell you a story. This is the story about three Santas, meeting on a foggy Christmas day on the top of the hill, from which they could overview the whole world, as they wanted to decide which one of them would take this Christmas duty, as they-"
The humans had lost interest to listen to the story, mainly because it would probably end in something vaguely threatening and/or depressing. Dave especially didn't like the story-telling robot and wanted to kick the ass of whoever made him.
Fair enough, seeing how bothersome the robots was to anyone with a hint of sanity.
Instead of thinking any further of the machine's mischievous acts in the background, Dave decided to talk over him as loudly as he could without being overly obnoxious.
"So, Sporsta. Got any plans? Somethin' on the agenda? Are the kiddens coming by? Is the place even open today?" Expectantly Dave stared at him, his eyes now assisted by the lights still strung through the mask- at least the few that Fraghetti didn't eat.
"A-Are you kidding?" Phone Guy shook his head. "Nobody wants to spend CHRISTMAS at a Freddy's place!"
With a vague gesture, Old Sport answered. "Don't be so sure about that."
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.
Hello, Hello?
Despite having been the one to GIVE said cue, Old Sport himself looked just as baffled as the two others. That certainly was none of the kids, their early morning knockings and calls were much different from that.
That was an adult knocking.
All three stayed frozen, especially Phone Guy who in that second was CERTAIN that it were goons from the factory, deciding that it was time to put him back into the cement halls of the factory, for having talked back one time too much-
Finally, another knock followed, just as mysterious as the first one, not seeming at all impatient or angry.
Or at least Orange Guy thought so, as he slowly approached the door and opened it a bit. "Hey...?"
A Phone Guy stood in front of it, but not ANY Phone Guy!
"Jack!" Quickly the door was pushed opened and he hugged the utterly stunned Orange Guy- at the mention of his name, he quickly pulled himself back together though.
"Don't call me that in here-" Embarrassed he looked over to his two compainions, seeming a bit helpless.
"You only have to use a fake name if you're planning doing something that people won't be happy about."
"Oh, we BOTH know that isn't true!" Offended Orange Guy stepped back, as he had been finally let go. "Now tell me, what the hell are you doing here, Peter!?"
"It's Christmas! You're supposed to be, uh- with your family! I couldn't just NOT visit." It was said like something blatantly obvious, not noticing how deeply that moved his old friend.
"Where's Caroline?" A tad worried Old Sport wondered if she may be sick-
"She's visiting her side of the family- she took a plane already, I will be coming after a day later." Happily Phone Guy stepped in and nodded at the Phone Guy in a friendly, but distant way, something that was reciprocated by the other Phone.
If they showed that they had been talking for a while now, then they'd might be in huge trouble.
His glance wandered further and met with Dave.
For a moment it became silent.
Finally Dave showed his teeth and greeted him. "Ayo... if it ain't Bakersfield Phoney. Was wonderin' when you'd finally follow my nice invitation. Couldn't fuckin' wait for it!"
His tone screamed bloody murder.
"Watch your mouth!" Without a hint of fear, Peter answered- either he was a good actor, or insane. "And it's Peter. Hello, Davetrap. It's really been a while. You look much better than last time."
The tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it.
Old Sport knew it was pointless, but he tried to lighten up the mood a little. "So, Peter- why didn't you tell me you wanted to come by?"
"Well, how, uh, how would I have been able to? After all, SOMEBODY pretty much hijacked my last call..."
"Yeah, but you could have..." How do you not give away your only means of communication in front of the enemy, while asking why it wasn't used?
After a few weird head movements, he gave up. "... Send a letter...?"
"Davetrap would have probably eaten it." Everyone in the room knew it was the truth. Another moment it stayed quiet, before Peter continued, opening his arms. "Merry Christmas!"
A bit dazzled all of them looked at each other-
They haven't said that yet!
"MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU USELESS FOOLS!" Old Sport called out, happily. "I HAVE BOUGHT NONE OF YOU PRESENTS!"
"You never do." Peter shook his head.
"C-can we have some sort of holiday benefits at least...?" It's not like Phone Guy expect anything better.
Dave sniffled, quiet, but disappointed.
It actually made Old Sport feel bad- he should get him something around Silvester.
"M-Merry Christmas, everyone." Uncertain, but friendly Phone Guy looked around. "Let's, uh- let's enjoy today! I actually, uh... prepared some Christmas dinner for us- I mean- mostly, it would of course still need to be actually put into the oven and uh-"
Feeling a bit lost, he laughed. "I hope it's just, uh... I felt like cooking."
"You can cook?" Surprised Peter looked at him. "Well, that is, uh, rather convenient, because I sure as heck can't. Neither can J- Old Sport, you should have seen in the kitchen. Good thing we have Caroline!"
Scoffing Dave sneaked up to Old Sport, unconsciously stepping between him and the Phones. "Happy crisis y'all- go get drunk of your ass and leave me and Sportsy alone!"
"You sure you want that, Davetrap?" The older Phone Guy crossed his arms. "What am I supposed to do with the present I got you when I'm drunk off my rockers?"
Instantly all hostile behavior was dropped and Dave perked up. "You w0t, m8?"
"You WHAT?" Old Sport was equally as baffled and partially worried. There was no secret in Peter really hating Dave, even as Davetrap.
"I got you a present." Patiently the man repeated, but his stance stayed defensive. "Though, if you don't want it, then I guess I will just-"
"NO! NO, NO, IMMA TAKE IT!" It was almost pitiful how excited the rabbit seemed.
Wait.
Did Dave ever get a present, actually?
... he had to, right?
Feeling even worse now, Old Sport moved around on the spot, trying to think if he may could come up with a surprise gift on the spot...
"Then come with me to the office, I put down my bags, you get your gift. Old Sport, you would be best of helping Phone Guy with the Christmas food." His casual tone made it clear he was able to handle Davetrap- no, outright wanted to shortly talk with him on their own.
But it was fine for the Orange Guy- maybe that was his chance to fix this little mindless mistake of his.
"Good idea- just- give him a good shock if he does something!" With that he carelessly chugged his Taser at the man, before spinning around and leaving. "See you later-!"
All three of them were confused.
Did Old Sport really just... leave?
Apparently.
Either way, there was nothing could do about it anyways, so they just... continued as planned.
He would come back SOMETIMES today, right?
Right?
Dave looked torn between following Old Sport and getting his promised gift- but for now getting the thing won out, seeing as he could simply run after his friend once he got it.
Together they returned into the office and impatiently Dave jumped around him. "What kind of present is it!?"
"Dave. I know we've never been... in any way on good terms. I know we still aren't, uh- really. But, for some reason Jack decided to... take you, I suppose. For SOME hecking reason. Which, I will not lie, I, uh, don't really agree with that, but I doubt I can do anything about it anytime soon, so maybe we should... in the spirit of Christmas we should try to... not, uh... harbor that much spite against each other. Both of us."
"Yeah, lemme tell ya, you can go and shove that up your ass. I know you're just waitin' for a good chance to fuck me over again."
"Language!" Frowning Peter shook his head. "You could at least PRETEND to want to try to make up with me. For Old Sport's sake!"
"Ya know what I'll do for Old Sport's sake? I'll make him realize what a fuckin' asshole you are, Phoney! You're nothin' but a manipulator, who used Sportsy to do ya dirty work for the promise of bein' his friend. The only reason ya kept him around, is because ya thought he might be still of some use- now I won't let ya continue that!" The anger in his voice sounded earnest, worryingly so.
It made the Phone Guy step back in irritation. "I have no idea what you're spouting here or HOW you got THAT idea of me and that I am remotely like that- Jack is my friend and he has been for years now. I want what's best for him! You're, uh- you're the one who only approached him to get him to kill kids!"
"I wanted to offer him FREEDOM, Phoney! Somethin' YOU never heard of in your lifetime!" Angry the bunny rose to his full height, looking beyond monstrous with his incredible height due to the costumes and the slightly withered look- his fur had been patched, sure, but when you were as close as this, in this cold blue lighting of the monitors shining onto him, it just made it appear even more broken and twisted.
Seeing a mangled dog was disgusting, seeing a sawn together dog, made out of uncountable parts...
"Murder isn't freedom-"
"Did ya just get me back here just to attack me?!" Enraged he leaned closer and for a moment it looked like he was about to grab him violently, but then he turned away, growling. "Yar really the moral guardian of Freddy's, ain't cha? The best guy out here-"
"No! No, I have... I have a gift." Quickly he reached into the bag he had been carrying around, now laying on the floor. "Here you go."
Handing him a small package, wrapped up in purple paper with small eggplants as a pattern, Peter paused, hoping for him to accept it. After a minute of hesitation slowly Dave crept close again, snatching it out right of the Phone's hand.
Another moment passed, then finally he began to fumble around with the wrapping, a bit clumsy for obvious reason, but still managed to open it without breaking the thing inside.
Not that it was hard.
Inside were...
"... the fuck is this?" Confused Dave looked at the plant.
"A mistletoe. You see, I REALLY don't like how you're- what are you doing?" Baffled he watched his companion picking off a red berry and getting it to his mouth, apparently about to- "WHAT- STOP! THEY ARE POISONOUS, YOU ABSOLUTE DINGUS!"
Shocked Dave stopped and looked at him, with utter betrayal. "YOU WANTED TO POISON ME!"
"NO, OTHERWISE I WOULDN'T HAVE WARNNED YOU! DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO POISON PEOPLE!?" Amazed by his stupidity, Peter snatched the thing away. Out of breath, he looked at the plant in frustration. "Do you know what a mistletoe is, Dave?"
"Nope. The fuck am I supposed to do with this? Are ya tryin' to frame me in front of Old Sport?!" Still paranoid Dave growled at the Phone, his eyes slimmed inside of the mask.
"Okay- okay, this, uh, this will probably be a horrible idea, why did I ever- anyways, Dave, you know a few Christmas customs?"
"I suppose... does givin' gifts count? And breakin' into houses, provided you have a big bushy beard?" Apparently not.
"Okay. At least you understand there are... some things you just DO around Christmas. That thing you have there is, uh, a very... romantic... custom..."
"Romantic?" Oh fucking lord, of COURSE that caught his attention like that.
The Purple Guy's mood had snapped 180° again.
To be frank, Peter KNEW what he was provoking... but he had to risk it. Mainly, because Dave would grow closer to Old Sport one way or another... what the other Phone Guy told him didn't leave much hope for Old Sport's resiliance.
They were way too comfortable already with each other- now he might as well try to get along better with Dave, in case of... of an emergency.
"Yes, it is- a thing, where you can uh- if two people stand under a mistletoe, they, uh... kiss."
With wide eyes Dave looked at the green bundle of leaves, as if it were the keys to some treasure. "That- that's really a thing, old Phone?!"
"Why would I lie to you?" Those words were instantly regretted. "I- I- Uh- Y-you, Dave- just hold it over Old Sport and see what happens! If not, there is no problem anyways, right?"
Uncertain Dave kept staring at the plant, but then almost unnoticeably nodded and put it into his suit, almost instantly being out of the door, rushing towards the door.
"HAS ANYBODY AN IDEA WHERE THE ORANGE IS?"
Phoney poked his head out of the kitchen. "Uh... No...?"
"F???'S SAKE-"
For a moment Peter wanted to tell Dave off again for his language, but now he wasn't sure if Dave said actually fuck's, fox or fax. "Dave- maybe he went out to get something. You should just-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Dave pushed open the door and stepped into the snow.
Naturally, that was NOT a good thing. "DAVE, THAT IS A VERY STUPID IDEA-"
Alas, it was in vain.
Dave was gone.
Taking a step closer to the door, Peter looked after him, reaching out to open said door, before pausing.
Shortly he glanced back, towards the kitchen, a moment turned into a while, but then he gave a quiet sigh and pushed the doors open, trying to figure out where that bunny monster ran off to, before he would get shot.
Meanwhile, Old Sport was hasting around in the cold city, cursing himself.
What did he THINK just running out on Christmas day trying to find a gift for a guy he knew pretty much nothing about except that he was a murderfurry?!
Not much, obviously.
But now he was COMMITTED.
There was SOMETHING he would achieve by running around senselessly, at least usually it was how he managed to bring his plan forward, especially without even having one.
There is going to be SOMETHING he could get Dave that wasn't dangerous and/or illegal, RIGHT?
Okay, no weapons, even if they would be an easy gift. Nothing that could be easily used as a weapon, so... no cars or anything that was fast or heavy.
Good lord, there were only so many things he could come up with.
Partially he hoped that he would stumble over the kids on his way around, seeing as they probably would have some ideas and especially more common sense than him, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Bummer.
Resorting to option A, seeing as pretending there was an option B would imply that he had a plan beforehand that hadn't worked. There was nothing that COULD go wrong if there was nothing that could go right!
He kept walking through the considerable amount of snow, lost in thought already again- he should try out a proper snowball fight- build a snowman- it had been a while since they had enough snow for such things, so-
Snapping out of it he looked around.
Maybe he would spot a nice shop...
Hm...
Something itched in the back of his mind and slowly he got a bit better of an idea.
Dave didn't have a lot of personal stuff and while there wasn't much Old Sport could imagine he would LIKE, there might was something he could find USEFUL.
Quickly he headed towards a shop that offered what he wanted to and began to break in as carefully as he could. As apology he left behind a shitton of free pizza coupons, as well as a bag of skittles he was surprised to find in the deep, dark depths of his pockets.
Okay, now he would need to find something to wrap it in-
His phone buzzed and thoughtless he got it out to accept the call, being greeted by Peter.
It was obviously Peter, because Peter sounded less like a small animal stuck in a cage.
"Hello? Hello, hello?"
"Yeah, Peter, I'm here. What's the matter? Pizzeria burning down?" It was supposed to sound like a joke, but then he remembered they still had a wild, fire-breathing chicken running around and suddenly it was a LOT less funny.
"No, uh, it's not THAT, but Davetrap just left the restaurant."
"... he did?" Crouching down, Old Sport picked up a hand of snow, watching it slowly melt and drip down his fingers, even by only getting the little body heat his undead body produced.
"Yes. And I have somewhat lost sight of him. I think he is searching for you, but uh- you know. Having him run outside like that..." There was MILD worry in his voice. "... I'm running around trying to find him again, but I just wanted to give you a heads up."
"Great. Thanks, I will try to find him- call me if you find him first!"
"I will, of course! See you later! Uh, sorry for letting him get away." The guilt was actually real.
"Not your fault. Probably. I hope, for your sake. See you hopefully soon!" The line cut and Old Sport began looking around, slightly helpless.
Great, that was what he had been missing- found some present and now he was directly faced with the next issue- ensuring the guy would be even ABLE to receive it.
... he shouldn't have left him alone.
He could have prevent whatever was about to happen.
Where would Dave look for him?
Good question.
For the beginning he might as well search around the restaurant- maybe he left tracks?
Probably.
The day was quiet, basically nobody was out, probably still busy with their Christmas celebration. In the far distance you could actually hear kids yell and laugh, but it was so faint, it almost sounded like some noise that turned out to be just in your head...
.. like... ghosts...
The snow calmed the whole atmosphere and for a moment Old Sport stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and welcomed the cold.
He thought back of his first Christmas with Peter. A somewhat awkward, but deeply heartfelt time, as he had newly moved in with him.
He thought back of the Christmas times he spend at Freddy's, watching the ghost children trying to make the best out of their situation, despite all that had happened.
He thought back of Dave.
Quietly wondered how a guy like him would spend Christmas, if at all.
Maybe he should ask him.
But for that he would need to find him...
With a quiet sigh he opened his eyes again and looked around somewhat frantically.
He needed to find him, he needed to find him fast.
Now with a reenergized step he rushed through the streets, his search pattern becoming a bit aimless- somewhere the bunny monster could have gotten shelter, or maybe he just-
"OLD SPORT!"
It was a beyond relieving feeling to have that horrible accent hitting him out of nowhere.
Turning around Old Sport spotted him, running towards him, waving.
What a goddamn idiot- "DAVE! STOP RUNNING! YOU'RE GOING TO GET SPRINGLOCKED!"
Meeting him halfway, Old Sport forced Dave's waving arm down and checked on him. Currently the locks looked horrible.
Oh, god, PLEASE-
Fine, all he needed to do was to get him back inside and to maybe get a hairdryer to reduce the risk of having the Christmas cheer ruined. This COULD work out, no problem, all they needed to do was-
"Sportsy!" Excited and completely ignorant to the danger he was in, Dave grabbed his arms and grinned widely. "I got somethin' I really wanna try!"
"Yeah, great, fine- can't that wait until we're back inside?" Distressed he listened to the rattling of the metal parts inside of the suit.
"No, don't wanna- come on, it won't take long!" With a rather powerful tug Dave dragged him closer, seemingly rather intend of getting his way.
Frustrated Old Sport took a deep breath and prayed it wouldn't take long.
"Please, be REALLY quick."
And of course, this resulted in only the most horrible of things.
Because really, what did you expect.
Dave was jumping around in a fucking Springlock suit.
It was rather disturbing how careless Dave treated his own body. Not that he HAD to pay that much attention, seeing as he somehow managed to gain immortality, but it was obvious he could still feel the full range of pain.
So why be such an airhead?!
Old Sport couldn't spend ALL day picking out metal bits from the suit!
Dave jumped up and down in excitement, wanting to hand something over to the Orange, which naturally resulted in at least one of the locks saying goodbye and cracking.
A series of surring sounds came, followed by multiple clicks.
Terrified Dave froze and stayed still, while OS reached in, as if hoping to be able to stop it.
"Stay still, for the love of god, just stay still. If you get springlocked, I will lock you out and forget about you until New Year's Eve." His words were harsh, but not meant that way. It was just a mixture of frustration and fear turning in aggression.
Carefully he went along the sides, trying to stabilize the mechanics as best as he could, not even remotely sure if what he did would change anything.
"Don't breathe." There was a certain hiss to these words, but he actually hoped that would help. It certainly would make it easier to try and fix it... slow down the process of breaking-
One by one he clipped them back, wishing he had something to block the springs away with, until he managed to get to some sort of weirdly jammed small handle, deep in the fur, stuck at the side, petty much unmoving.
Pressing down a bit harsher, Old Sport realized that he might have to either pray that lock wasn't important or to just break it down harder, hoping that it wouldn't be the last nail in the coffin for the breaking suit.
The surring became louder, or maybe he was getting more anxious about it, louder and louder until-
He finally managed to click the thing into position.
Then it was silent.
For a moment both of them waited, expecting a final loud crash...
Nothing.
Confused Old Sport stood back up carefully checking the other parts- but true enough, nothing was happening anymore.
It was completely unmoving.
Trying to find out what had triggered this sudden peace he crouched back down and fidgeted around with the new handle he found there.
Dave wasn't all too pleased. "Sportsy...? What... what'cha doin'...?"
"I'm trying to figure out what I did, so I can do it again if I have to..." Yes, there it was again, a small bump in the suit- too big to reach with costumed fingers. "Maybe this is a key lock to the... stability of the suit...?"
"Old Sport, not sure what I can tell ya, but there ain't a lock." Trying to stretch his neck in a way that he could see what his friend was working on, he casually dropped that information.
"There obviously is." Old Sport scoffed, feeling up on the thing. "How would you even know?"
"In a Springlock suit there are exactly 115 individual locks." It sounded like he had learned that information by heart. "Sure I fuckin' know! Henry explained it to me!"
Bothered by that, Old Sport carefully took off Dave's suit glove and led his hand to the thing at the side.
Furrowing his brows, Dave felt alongside it. "... I have no idea what that is. Maybe somethin' that broke? Maybe some sort of-"
"Why do you think Henry showed you all that is to know about the suit?" A rather uncomfortable feeling settled into his stomach. "... Henry wouldn't get into a suit that has the potentially could snap on him, would he...?"
"He didn't have a choice and if ya do it right, there is no reason to be worried! I used the suit for decades, it only snapped when you messed with it!" Insulted and defensive Dave snapped back, taking the glove and put it back on. It was cold.
"No, you just survived the other incidents!" This actually made a horrible amount of sense to him.
"If there were a way, he would have told me, dammit! Henry is my friend! That's probably just an issue with the age of the suit, it ain't an actual mechanic!" There was genuine anger in his voice, so Old Sport backed off.
This was not a conversation he would have on Christmas day.
"Let's... just get back to the restaurant."
After a short call informing his friend Dave was with him, they were on their way back.
Quietly they walked side by side, until finally, as the restaurant was in viewing distance, Dave softly touched his side, trying to lift the darker mood. "Sorry Sportsy- I had to come and show you what I got from ya Phone!"
"Well... what DID you get?" Honestly, now he was somewhat curious. What could set him off to run into the snow to find him?
... if he was honest with himself, it actually wouldn't take much, would it?
"I got a- well, I got a..." A tad flustered Dave moved around. "Ya know, you're probably cold, aren't cha?"
As eager as he had been before, he was just as flustered and shy about it now. It just had hit him full forced what it actually meant if Peter told the truth. His skin felt oddly hot now, especially against the cold liquid the snow had turned into.
"Yes, we should get you dry..." Softly he tugged him inside, where they were greeted with two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows.
Peter and Phoney stood there, now looking fully festive with oversized sweaters and Christmas hats- not only them, but apparently every machine here had one.
"Wh- where did you get those from?" Shocked Old Sport looked around as even the Scraps were wearing some makeshift sweaters- they all had gathered around the tree that Phoney and Lefty had put up in the main hall.
The robots were bickering a bit, but as soon as somebody got louder, Lefty sat up a tad, resulting in a pause from everyone, then they returned to the previous conversation, calm once more.
Peter grinned an invisible, yet somehow AUDIBLE grin and handed Old Sport another sweater. "Merry Christmas. You left all your ugly Christmas sweaters at home, so I thought you may need a new one, now that you moved away."
Perplexed the Orange Guy took it, stared at it for a while, then looked back at the Phone. "You DICK."
"Ah, the Christmas spirit!" Laughing the man turned away and left towards the animatronics, joining them in their little story-telling session.
Shyly the regular Phone Guy nodded at them too, before leaving as well, wanting to give them some space to dry and relax after this excitement.
Taking that opportunity, both of them snuck off into a further corner and leaned onto the heater, where Old Sport remembered why he even fucked off in the first place.
Reaching back into his pocket, he hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Here, close your eyes and hold your hands out. I didn't manage to get it wrapped up in time..."
"YA ACTUALLY GOT ME SOMETHIN'?!" After an excited squeak Dave firmly closed his eyes and vibrated in excitement, as he did as told. When something fell into his hand he made another small noise and looked at it greedily.
"OW! A CELLPHONE! NEATO! I lost mine, back when I fuckin' died!" Dave activated it and grabbed OS to take out his, in order to save his number. "Now I can just give ya a call when I don't know where ya are! Thank you, Old Sport!"
The bunny earnestly seemed happy and it brought a smile on the Orange Guy's face. "Before you run away again and worry all of us. And legally make yourself free to be shot by everyone else."
"Ya wouldn't let me get shot, right Old Sport?" Confident Dave smiled at him.
A long pause ensured.
Finally, Dave continued. "So, anyways- Sportsy! I- I wanna do a Christmas thingy! Will ya play along?"
"Christmas thingy?" Suspicious Orange Guy looked at him.
"Your Phoney Buddy told me that much, ye." Innocently Dave titled his head, knowing EXACTLY what he did with that. It wasn't nice to lure Sportsy into a false sense of security, but... it was TECHNICALLY the truth, right? No, it was LITERALLY the truth.
"Well... fine. Okay, what are you wanting to do?" A bit more relaxed he leaned back again.
"Close your eyes, buddy!" With a glowing smile he shot that back and snickered quietly as the guy actually did it. Carefully he pulled out the mistletoe from the arm of his suit, where he had carried it around safely for when he found OS outside and proceeded to do as instructed.
Wait, what did Phoney say again?
Stand under it?
Would sitting do the trick?
He held it over them, trying to be actually under it with him-
"Dave, what are you doing right now exactly?" Old Sport sounded a tad accusing, but didn't peek.
"... not gonna lie, Sportsy, no fuckin' idea." He gave up. "Ya can look- not sure if I did it right..."
The first thing Old Sport noticed when opening his eyes was that Davetrap was incredibly close.
But as he still was struggling to register that- his brain seemingly was having one of its many breaks- he noticed the odd position Dave arm was in and quickly spotted the little bundle of leaves in there.
A mistletoe.
Oh lord.
Instantly he felt his face grow red, despite not wanting it to- part of him wanted to jump away, another more powerful kept him in place though.
Maybe it was the spirit of Christmas.
It looked so weird to look at Davetrap so closely- he smelled like snow and wet fabric right now- his eyes were easily recognizable as- not human, but Dave.
Despite everything, it's still him, isn't it?
There was a certain nervousness in the way the glowing eyes wandered over his face, trying to read the expression Dave was presented with. Even his voice sounded unusually cautious, compared to his usual self. "... y-your Phone friend said it would- that if I do this, ya would..."
GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, PETER. WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU DICKHEAD.
Quickly he shot a glare across the room and sure enough, Peter had been glancing at them and now was demonstratively looking away.
Later he would need to kick his ass.
But for now, he had to answer his friend. "I- Dave, I mean- he wasn't wrong, but..."
Why was he feeling so nervous? How about just- give him a small smooch on the suit nose- hell, he would even be in the suit, so-
"He wasn't wrong?" Oh lord. Dave sounded utterly happy. "Well then!"
And with that he opened the maw wide enough to properly look out and grin.
For a moment, Old Sport cursed the fact that the suits were build that way, screw all those who wanted an easy lunchbreak or being able to be saved in case of an emergency! THIS ALL COUD HAVE BEEN AVOIDED BY THE SUIT NOT BEING ABLE TO-
But before he could continue to mentally rant about the many problems people who wanted to live have created, Dave had leaned closer and kissed him.
For a moment, Old Sport completely blanked out.
It was silent- or maybe not, but he wasn't able to hear anything... actually everything seemed to have disappeared for a moment.
Dave lips were soft and still a bit cold.
Soft.
God.
Wasn't Dave... he thought of Dave as a slippery guy...
Felt like...
... there was nothing in his mind to compare it to, but then again, he hasn't pressed his lips against many things.
But he could feel so much.
The little bit of drier skin that went into smoother, newer patches, the soft pressure of the muscles changing as he leaned a bit more into the kiss, for a moment he could have sworn he felt a heartbeat, an actual-
The kiss broke and helpless Old Sport stared at Dave.
An equally as overwhelmed and flustered expression was the answer.
Finally, Davetrap put down the upper part of the mask again, almost hiding in it, his voice slightly shaking. "M-Merry Christmas, Old Sport! So... that's what it's like... t-to celebrate."
"It's- yeah." And with that, the incompetent manager proceeded to drink the whole mug of hot chocolate in one go, in order to not talk anymore.
He could have just stood up, I guess, but well.
His choice.
So they ended up spending the rest of the day next to each other, lips glued to their mugs to continue validate the silence, until finally Peter took pity upon them and called them over for a little game of Monopoly.
Needless to say Rockstar Freddy completely crushed everyone he got to play with and Dave was instantly disqualified for requesting a way to either rob the hotels or kill the people over a certain limit of wealth and share the money.
Not for the request, but because it triggered Pepe who was standing in the back to play the Russian anthem on an ear-ripping level, causing Dave to be told to fix it instead of playing.
He deemed that very unfair.

-

A/N:
Merry Christmas everyone!
Enjoy the food, if nothing else!