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wario-speedwagon · 2 months

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Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid: Chapter 14

Happy Valentine's Day! I've got an extra long chapter for you this time, and it's a bit of a doozy, so I hope you enjoy! Full chapter under the cut :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 13 All Chapters Index

Chapter 14

Jack. was. miserable.

Frankly, all he wanted to do once he got home was go straight to bed so he could at least meltdown over everything in private. But no; Dave was almost certainly gonna expect an explanation the moment they sat down, and Jack was running out of ways to get out of it.

Does he just rip the whole band-aid off tonight? ‘Hey Dave, that was my sister Dee, you know, the one you and Henry killed? Yeah, she’s not thrilled that I’ve started working with the man that helped kill her.’

…

Jack was tired enough that just saying those exact words was maybe even tempting actually. Whether or not it would cause a shitshow, at least it’d be easier than enduring more of Dave “subtly” egging him on to share more about his past. If he really wanted to know that badly, he could just have it then.

But that wasn’t what Jack really wanted at all. He cared enough about his relationship with Dave to not want to jeopardize it so thoughtlessly. If only Dave could just somehow take the hint that he kept things to himself for a reason. Not to mention the secrets he kept were usually things he himself wished to leave behind.

Y’know, like his dead family.

And as much as he hated to admit it, maybe Dave was onto something with his recent stunt. Why not build a new family on the ashes of his old one? Maybe it wouldn’t be half-bad after all. It could even be fun, once he eventually got over the salt of how Dave sprung this all on him without listening—

*sigh*

…Except his “dead family” was still there to haunt him. And that complicated all of this for him.

Still… Maybe there was a thin thread of hope… It was foolish to think it would ever fix the bridges he burnt, but still…

With Pruny now here with them, maybe leaving the child murder behind would be on the table. It had its fun, sure, but Jack was far from attached to it, and the actual killing parts of it were, uh… more to Dave’s taste than his own, if he had to admit it.

Jack didn't at all regret befriending Dave, not one bit. At the same time, he decided he didn't always care for all the lives he helped take either. Or more specifically, for being the William to Dave's Henry. He saw the parallels, and it left a nasty taste in his mouth whenever he noticed them.

But worst of all, the blood on his hands permanently ruined his relationship with his family. It ruined it first with Peter when Peter believed the reports that he killed Dee, and then it ruined it with Dee when Jack decided to be the very child murderer he'd been framed to be.

He didn’t know why he ever thought she wouldn’t eventually notice.

*hic*

Oh… Pruny was starting to cry behind him again.

Now a different flavor of guilt took over. It’d always been one of the worst sounds to Jack, knowing that he couldn't comfort it to silence. And not simply because of the car he was busy driving either; despite how easily children could just show all their feelings, Jack never knew what to do about most of them. No matter how much faith Peter had in him back then to reassure him that he would do just fine. No matter how much he thought he could trust Jack to do it on his own now.

But that must have just been wishful thinking on Peter’s part to feel better about moving out in the end, because after that day, that faith had been well and thoroughly dashed.

…And it turned out that trying to reach out to Peter to apologize and explain after everything that happened was a mistake too…

Well, that guy was dead now anyway, so it doesn’t matter anymore, right?

No no, Jack wasn’t going down this train of thought again.

But man…even Dave, who was now currently offering generic words of comfort to a silenced Pruny, was somehow much more natural at this than Jack could ever manage in his six years with Dee. Yeah, maybe it was better to leave Pruny to Dave tonight.

The drive home was approaching its end now; except where he would usually start to feel relief and unwinding after another hard day, Jack felt none tonight.

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The three had just finished anticlimactically climbing out of the car and entering their home. Only minimal words were exchanged in the process.

And now they were milling about in the living room, evidently waiting for someone to be decisive enough to break the ice.

Well Jack had one idea to change this awful mood a bit.

“C’mon, let’s go take care of that scratch. Lucky for you I always have plenty of ointment. Go wet a towel and clean your face, I’ll be right back.”

Jack had already disappeared before he could see Dave’s slight confusion at this turn of events. Must not have been anything Henry ever bothered with for him.

Being a zombie cursed with immortality had its strange quirks. Sure, his body always repaired itself from injuries back to a functional state, though Jack learned the hard way that if he didn’t properly care for said injuries, they rarely healed, er, right.

And just as he promised Jack returned to the living room, antibiotic cream in one hand, as well as a clean rag in the other—he decided didn’t trust the Freddy’s-provided bandage Scott gave Dave to be sufficiently sanitary. (Heck, with Freddy’s incredibly lax sanitation policies, if they really wanted to take down Dave Miller, they didn’t need any sort of Springlock trap or sting operation, but simply an honest attempt at first aid. How ironic.)

Dave was currently dabbing his face with the wet towel he obediently got for himself, and Pruny was sitting next to him, observing with interest as she usually did. (Thankfully her eyes seemed dry again.)

“Why don’t you take that filthy dish rag off your face so we can clean it up right.”

“Nah, you don’t have to—”

Jack took his seat next to Dave on the couch, close enough to get a good look at his face, and Dave immediately tensed away for space. Jack took it upon himself to remove the old bandage himself since Dave didn’t seem so inclined.

The rag covering half his face was removed to uncover a flustered expression with almost-red cheeks. Dave’s whole demeanor was uncharacteristically timid and touchy right now, but it was probably easier if Jack ignored that for now.

“Chill out, a little ointment sting never hurt nobody,” said Jack matter-of-factly as he was already mindlessly portioning and spreading the appropriate amount onto his fingers ready for application.

As Jack’s hand approached his cut cheek, Dave instinctively pulled away with a quiet, nervous laughter and an ever redder face.

“C’mon, man, what’s your issue?”

“...N-Nothin’! Just… heh… gonna be cold, isn’t it?”

Jack blankly stared at the obvious cowardly excuse—‘cold’?—and Dave’s failed show of composure collapsed even further the longer it went on.

“...Do it yourself then if you rather—”

“Oh, nonono!” he unexpectedly insisted. “You can still— Eheh…” Dave trailed off quickly and intensely avoided eye contact again. His face was now beet red and clearly fighting off an involuntary smile of some sort, and it looked goofy as hell.

“—AGH-gh-hgh—!” Jack had impatiently smeared a glob onto one of Dave’s cuts.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“—A little more warning next time!” yelled Dave grimacing, hand instinctively cradling his now-stinging cheek.

“Now rub that stuff in more. The more it stings, the more you’re doing it right.”

Dave did as told, wincing accordingly. When he stopped rubbing his face, Jack turned to face him again and readied another glob for application, which turned Dave’s face red again.

Pruny was silently grinning watching all of this go down with completely undivided attention. Jack couldn’t blame her, Dave’s faces were definitely providing some free entertainment.

“Goin’ under your eye now.”

After a moment of blank hesitation, Dave nodded, tightly closing his eyes to brace himself.

“Don’t scrunch your cheeks up so much like that, just relax them.”

But Dave’s face seemed to do the opposite of relaxing the closer Jack’s fingers approached for another smear. Wow, Jack wasn’t expecting him to act so shy about this. It was definitely frustrating to work with, but it was amusing enough that he didn’t mind.

His fingers finally made contact with the bags of Dave’s eye, and to his credit, Dave didn’t back away this time, but bravely took it, humming whimpers of discomfort to himself as Jack lightly rubbed the stuff until it eventually absorbed.

As Dave was getting used to the sensation of his face being touched, Jack then repeated the process above his eye. Jack glanced at his side to see Pruny still utterly transfixed, watching Jack's hand like a dog watching the tennis ball waiting for you to throw it. Jack was pretty sure she probably hadn't blinked in a good while, so he playfully dabbed a small fleck of ointment on her nose with a grin on his face, winning a mischievous laugh out of Pruny that Jack reciprocated with a chuckle. Dave had opened his eyes too late from his prolonged wincing to catch why they were suddenly giggling.

She clearly wanted to participate too, so Jack let her dab a tiny bit onto Dave's cheek. Of course, when he saw Pruny was taking a turn, Dave had to lower his neck down a lot so she could reach.

Jack then returned his focus to making the finishing touches on the remaining skin cuts on Dave’s face.

“...There, that should do it.”

“Th-Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it. Now how’s the eye itself?” Dave had not opened it once since removing the bandage, which worried him.

“Not… great if I’m honest. Might need to rock that pirate style for a while after all, methinks.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to try to see a doctor?”

“I’ll be arrrright!” said Dave as he all too readily whipped out a classic black eye-patch that he must have stolen from Foxy on their way out.

Jack just stared in disbelief. Pruny giggled next to him.

“...If you start talking like a pirate, I might just have to punch you for it.”

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They were all gathered at table, clinking their spoons away at their mac and cheese bowls. The two had hotly debated earlier whether mac and cheese was a spoon food or a fork food, but that debate was easily settled once they found that only the spoons were clean in the drawer anyway. Dave was glad to have at least one victory ove Jack today, no matter how much Jack insisted he didn’t “win” anything.

It was still depressing to Jack how quickly his food stash depleted when now feeding three times the mouths. Pruny was eating slowly at her own comfortable pace, contrasting with how Dave leaned in to ravenously scarf down his bowl up to his face. Jack swore he was going to get that white towel wrapped over his eye stained with cheese sauce.

Jack had made him keep the clean towel over his eye for now until they washed the dumb pirate patch of its Freddy's...essence. There was only so much hygiene one could keep up with when you worked at Freddy's, and even less so when you were a rotting zombie, but still: when it came to stuff like that, Peter had drilled every caution into him, and it still stuck with him. (Man, if Peter could see how Jack lived now…)

Dave triumphantly set down his bowl and spoon with a satisfied sigh.

“Ahh, that was good.”

“You barely gave yourself time to taste it, or else you’d realize it’s sadly just Kraft mac and cheese.”

“My friend, I don't need to ‘taste’ it to know it's good eatin’.”

“I… That's an interesting view on food.”

“So…” As Dave's voice calmed to a more serious tone, Jack was way ahead of him and wasn’t having it. “About—”

“Not now. Two of us are still taking our time to actually enjoy and taste our food.”

“...Alright,” he relented civilly.

There was that tension from the car again. Jack suddenly had less appetite when he knew what awaited the end of the meal, but he continued anyway as if unbothered. Still, Dave didn't have to wait so expectantly at the table like this. Oh how Jack envied Pruny right now who was just eating peacefully and obliviously.

…Though now that Jack gave more than a peripheral glance at her, he noticed she wasn't her usual self either. She still had a good amount of her bowl left, and more of her spoon motions were spent toying with the noodles than eating them.

Dave noticed Jack's attention toward Pruny and also seemed to independently catch on to the same concern.

“C’mon, eat, Prune. It’s getting cold.”

She didn’t take notice until Dave lightly nudged her bowl which brought her out of whatever headspace she’d been in as she rushed a bit too much to show them that she was indeed eating.

The table remained at awkward clinking silence, this time minus the ravenous sounds from Dave’s side of the table like before, but eventually everyone finished their bowls. Pruny took the liberty of excusing herself immediately after finishing (and she finished it quickly as if she was being graded on it), so she headed for the spare room for some paper and pens from the desk drawer before taking them out to the living room. (Wait, since when did she find where Jack kept that stuff…?)

Jack, meanwhile, had risen to collect the bowls and silverware and brought them to the sink which he then turned on to fill said bowls with water. He didn’t feel like washing them right away, but he learned from experience that letting mac and cheese dry made it more of a time-consuming bitch to clean later—actually, on second thought, maybe he did feel like doing all of the dishes right now, so he rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the dish soap.

Good. Dave also finally got up to find his own way to keep himself busy too, it would seem.

…Oh, he was coming over to help with the dishes, wasn’t he? He walked toward Jack and the sink, also rolling up his sleeves.

Well here we go.

But to Dave’s credit, and to Jack’s bewilderment, he immediately set to the task without a word, and he was surprisingly efficient at it too. Evidently he knew what he was doing, and Jack didn’t know if it was condescending of him to be impressed considering Dave’s penchant for chaos. Then again, he used to live with Henry, which was always a plausible explanation for any number of mysteries and surprises Jack found in Dave over time.

It wasn’t until a full stack of cups had been rinsed to dry that Dave began.

“Jack Kennedy, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s… my name, don’t wear it out. Actually, on second thought maybe you should wear it out more compared to what you usually call me.”

“No, it’s just—in the car ride, I did a lot of thinking, of where I would have heard the name before. Why it’s familiar.”

“I mean, there is that copycat U.S. president you’re probably thinking of—”

“No, not that, I’m serious!”

Jack dropped the attempt at facetiousness because Dave wasn’t having it. Neither of them were really cleaning any dishes at this point.

“Alright, no more dancin’ around it. I know where I remember your names from. And from that I can connect some pretty ugly dots about what’s goin’ on.

But I wanna hear it all from you.”

“You’re really not messing around for once. Where should I even start?”

“Well, let’s start with names. So you’re a Kennedy, eh?

I’m well aware of who the Kennedies are. Specifically Dee Kennedy, the little redhead girl who got abducted at Fredbear’s in…” Dave counted mentally, “1973. She’d be your sister, yeah?”

For how stupid he acts, Dave was actually scarily perceptive.

“That means you know my real name too. Because the Kennedies and Fredbear’s go way back, don’t we? You’ve known of me long before even Henry died.”

Dave then fell silent, as if expecting Jack to take it from there, so he did.

“You’re William Afton. One of the two men who murdered my sister in cold blood.”

Jack was surprised by the old anger that surfaced as he admitted that. He thought he let that go. Strangely, Dave seemed almost glad about it.

“So I was right. It’s good to see you do still remember that second part too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sportsy, it’s so damn bizarre to me—how you’d so easily and happily start snagging kids with me of all people, and after what I did to your sister? If you two are really family, then that just doesn’t make sense to me, because you knew damn well who I was from the beginning, so—”

“What doesn’t make sense to me is why you suddenly care about me and my family’s affairs. You certainly didn’t back then.”

“But Old Sport, you’re practically family to me now, so now it’s different—”

“And they were my family just the same.”

That made Dave stop to reconsider some things.

“You really just don’t even think about any of the lives you’ve taken, do you?”

“I-I suppose not? Not most of ‘em, anyway, never really felt a need to.”

Jack held a thoughtful silence. And then he decided to get into it.

“Well think about this then. Dee was our younger sister. Good fifteen-to-twenty years younger than Peter and me, and it was up us to raise her, having dead parents and all.

So you can stop pestering me about why I know so much about raising kids.”

Dave cast a brief look of embarrassment to the side with a half-hearted chuckle.

Jack then sighed before continuing.

“Then 1973 rolls around, Peter’s moved out with his wife and kid, so it’s just me and Dee celebrating her sixth birthday at Fredbear’s, why not? And then of course you know what happened that day.”

Now Jack took his turn to wait for Dave to answer from there. But the response he got instead was strange.

“How did that… make you feel?”

“...Huh?”

Jack looked quizzically at Dave who evidently still meant that question sincerely.

“It was the worst I’d ever felt in my life.”

“I-I see…”

Dave resumed the handwashing that their conversation had suspended, so Jack did the same. They both needed a good moment to think.

But then Dave abruptly set his plate down and turned to Jack.

“No wonder she was so pissed at you! How could you just forget her like that!?”

“Are you aware of the hypocrisy of you telling me that?”

“Still not half as hypocritical as you buddying up with me in front of her!”

“Yeah, well I didn't exactly want her to find out about all that…Why do you think I was so keen to keep her box wound up?” Not that Dee wasn't well aware of what Jack had done at that point anyway, but...

“... …Sportsy, do you ever want to make up with your sister?”

“...Hmm...

…Well what I want and what I plan to do are very different things, and the latter is ‘no, never.’”

“Why not?”

“Well that should be obvious after today; it’s not up to me.”

“Well, what about what you want then?”

“What I want…I don’t really know. I try not to think too hard about what I ‘want’ out of life these, just depresses the hell outta me. I try keep my ‘wanting’ to simple things I'm actually allowed to have, like a cigarette, or a nap or… or a friend to fight off the loneliness.”

“...I think you should at least try to—”

“That’s not what she wants, so it doesn’t matter what I want.

…Besides, since when do you care about her? You wanted her gone just hours ago.”

“Well, if she’s important to you—”

“That's all that matters to you then? What about all the other lives you took? Would you still have taken my sister’s life if you had known me before then?

If we’d still never met, you never would have spent a second thought about Dee’s death or even mine.”

“I—…” Dave did regularly think about his third red-haired victim, actually…

Wait, ‘his’ death—?

“Or Pruny? You would have taken her without a second though if she wasn’t aubergine.”

“But she’s a different—!”

“She’s a child just like all the rest, Dave, no more, no less. In fact, she reminds me a hecking lot of Dee sometimes.”

That last sentence in particular was deeply unsettling to Dave. Empathizing wasn’t something that came naturally to Dave, so when Jack put it like that for him…

Not that Jack was faring any better himself. Not even Dave could accept his hypocrisy either—

“...”

Their words were starting to settle in the silent aftermath like dust. It… would seem the conversation was over now…

Jack had not-very-subtly turned to resume washing the last of the dishes. And a few seconds later, Dave also dismissed himself to the living room.

But Dave hadn’t made it as far as the dining table before the two instinctively turned their heads toward the direction of the front door as the doorbell chimed throughout the house.

“...Who the fuck would be…?”

Jack quickly dumped the plate back into the dishwater and wiped his wet hands on his shirt as he went to answer the door. And after a beat of considering it, Dave decided he should follow too.

The two walked past Pruny who was thankfully already fast asleep on her couch, drawing stuff left on the floor beside her. Dave stopped behind to pull her bunched up blanket over her.

Meanwhile Jack opened the door to reveal a sopping wet Phone Guy standing right before him.

(Chapter 15)->

#wow this chapter was probably the most challenging to write! But I think my efforts finally paid off!#dsaf #dayshift at freddy's #dayshift at freddys #jack kennedy #dave miller #dsaf jack #jack dsaf #dsaf dave #dave dsaf #dsaf fanfic

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wario-speedwagon · 3 months

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Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid: Chapter 13

Hello! Happy first birthday to this fic! I can't believe this fic has come this far. Thanks for all who have tagged along for the ride, and I hope you enjoy today's chapter! Full chapter below the cut! <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 12

Chapter 13

“So Scott sure wasn’t happy with us, huh!” Dave finally commented with fake cheerfulness to break the awkward silence that had hung in the air of that dingy car.

It only ended up making the following silence even more awkward than before when there was no reply beyond a deep breath. Jack didn’t have the spoons to start up such forced small talk, not with everything that was on his mind right now.

So seeing that Jack was still staunchly “focused on the road,” Dave went back to rubbing the shoulder of Pruny, who was leaned up against him in the back seat. He could practically feel her trembling.

Despite not really having one, his heart went out to her, as he could tell exactly how she was feeling based on her behavior, if only because it reminded him so much of his own during a “bad day” back in his Henry days.

Now that he thought about it, the way he himself was cradling his own injured eye with his other hand was also just as… nostalgic.

Dave figured it must be an Aubergine trait to keep up such a brave face in spite of it all, as despite being so shaken, there weren’t any more tears he could see. Dave petted her head out of bittersweet pride, to which she responded by readjusting herself more comfortably.

Dave would be content with this bittersweet peace, except unfortunately Pruny’s wellbeing wasn’t the only big concern of his. He couldn’t really take in all the confusion in the heat of the moment, but now that he could properly sit on his unanswered thoughts, the implications of the words exchanged today started to become… rather serious. But only if “Jack” could prove his fears were founded.

So after another couple minutes of sitting in all this uncomfortable nothing, Dave eventually took a shot:

“Hey, so we gonna talk about what happened or…?”

“...U-Uh—”

“...Because the other option would be to keep actin’ like it never happened, and I’m sure as hell not doin’ that.”

“...Later. When we get home.”

“Alright, fair enough I suppose.”

More silence settled in the air, though now with some of the tension broken at least. Dave found himself relishing in how Old Sport called it “going home.” And “going home” how it seemed to naturally include himself and Pruny now. Or maybe he was overthinking things again. Either way, for how much Sportsy played “hard-to-get,” he sure was falling easily into this new family dynamic.

It was good that his family was starting to form on its own, hopefully without further need for intervention. But after the shit that went down today… he couldn’t be too hopeful.

No, this stuff needs to be aired out now. Hiding secrets only ever led to more hurt later on. He learned that lesson from Henry a lot.

“How’s your eye doing?”

“Oh. Probably fine. It’s not the first time it’s been roughed up like this.” Although it was usually a blunt impact from a wrench rather than a scratch, but—

“We should probably take you to a doctor.”

“Hah! In this economy?”

“Okay then, coward, I hope you’re ready to be a pirate if it gets infected though, cuz I don’t have a first aid kit good enough for that.”

“You kiddin’? I’d look badass with an eyepatch!”

“...You might have to retire your kiddie strangling days though.”

…Well that came out of left field. Dave wasn’t comfortable with how serious he sounded either...

He’d never really put much thought into it yet since this all began… If they kept up this whole “family” schtick, then would it make sense to keep up their “kiddie strangling” schtick as well? He hated it, but Sportsy might have a point about that.

…But what if they made Pruny “Kiddie Strangler 3.0” and made a cute murder family? Now that'd be the best of both worlds—he was smiling just imagining it!

Eh, but something told him that Pruny wouldn’t be all that gung-ho about the idea. Even Dave himself hated the idea at first when Henry started with him. What if she warmed up to it though…?

From now on, this won’t be happening again.

Sportsy's earlier words cut through his thoughts. Was he really so willing to give up what they had that easily? Or maybe he didn't really mean it, or he meant something else… Fuck, it had him concerned though. Why was Sportsy such a doormat to that thing, anyway?

That whole scene today had so many questions to dive into.

And while Dave hadn’t quite pieced it together in the moment, he was sure now in hindsight that “Jack Kennedy” was what that thing—”Dee”?—was calling Old Sport. He’d never even considered until then that Old Sport had a name, but now he had to know.

“Jack?”

The orange guy's head tilted accordingly.

“That your name? Jack Kennedy? That’s what she was calling you. And you were callin’ her ‘Dee’—”

“I’ll explain when we get home, Dave, just—please, not right now.”

“Okay.”

“...But yeah, that is my name.”

“Huh…” Dave wasn’t sure if he’d be used to him having a real name.

But still: it seemed that the bright side of today would be that Old Sport was finally going to really open up to him about everything!

You don't even remember what you did to Jack Kennedy. And apparently neither does he.

…Okay, maybe he was feeling a just a little bit intimidated to unpack all that.

...Even more so now that he just remembered the name Dee Kennedy. And which of his victims it belonged to.

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Violet, meanwhile, had been tuning out their occasional muffled conversation and reliving her experiences that day.

The puppet had been so nice and fun to her! Was it genuine, or was that thing really dangerous?

You were on your way out. Leave the kid alone, comprende?...

…Prune, get out of here.

The way Dave fiercely threatened that thing while Jack nervously negotiated with it, the way it tried to keep her from them and the way Jack pushed her to escape…

She didn’t know what conclusions to draw from all that except that they were not good, not at all. The puppet and them were clearly old enemies somehow. And right before she and the Phone Guy came back into the room, she barely yet certainly heard Jack shouting something inside, and Dave was on the ground covering his face like it was hurt once they entered. Dave was still nursing that injury right now next to her…

She wished she would have been able to tell what the puppet was apparently saying to them so she’d not be so hopelessly in the dark about what had just occurred.

Was this all her fault for running off with it? Did she cause this? Did she get Dave hurt? Is there something she could have done to make them not fight? Or would things have at least gone better if she’d just hurried up and spat out what she needed to say sooner to the Phone Guy—!

She realized she'd worked herself up again when she felt tears forming in her eyes again, so she tried to stop the what-ifs. But just after her breath hitched, she felt a giant hand pat her head again, knocking those tears loose down her face, before his hand returned to her shoulder again. She still tried to fight the urge to cry, but once her breath hitched a second time, she instead just let it all happen. And she heard Dave take notice as he softly cooed something in comfort to her (not that she could see what he said) while he hugged her tighter against him.

This... This was a new feeling. She'd never felt... good crying before... Was that even allowed?

...No. With them, she decided dumb rules like that didn't even matter.

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The loud sound of the entrance doors closing reverberated through the dark and empty dining room, almost like some old, empty cathedral. Scott fumbled with his ring of jingling keys before finding the right one which he then inserted and turned to lock up the entrance, filling the haunting silence behind him with more echoing clicks.

And then he sighed loudly because no one could hear him but these walls. Well, in theory anyway. Because that puppet was still unaccounted for, and was frankly only the second greatest source of his stress right now.

First place of course went to the police investigation, the missing children scandal, the distraught parents he'd faced, all of it weighing heavily on his mind. It was unbearable, simultaneously hoping a solid lead came out of it for their sakes while actively fearing the fulfillment of that same exact hope for his own sake.

But then on top of that, there was the whole Jack, Dave and puppet fiasco, and it was putting so many extra thoughts on his mind, thoughts he just didn’t have the headspace to handle right now. Words replaying in his head repeatedly—

And you, Dee. I know you have no reason to believe me ever again— Save it, Jack. I’m not interested in what you have to say anymore. Dee, just listen to me— You listen to ME, Jack Kennedy! Dee— —Jack Kennedy! Dee—! —Kennedy!

The names especially kept repeating ad nauseum. For such few words he overheard, they haunted Scott incessantly. They agitated so many memories and images in his head that didn’t belong in his wiring—

His orange employee who recently knelt down comforting a purple child—except somehow that image felt like a much older memory than just a mere day ago… no, was it a different child maybe? But then why would Jack be there? Why would Jack be in his old memories? Or was it someone else he was being reminded of? ...Yeah, someone decidedly less orange, probably. But then why does he have the same last name as himself—a-as Peter? There’s simply no way that could…

...So does Jack know Peter? Is that the conclusion to draw? Does that puppet!? Because they clearly knew each other somehow with how they talked—Dee, that was its name? Dee?... Dee… Dee… Dee…Kennedy? Did that last name fit there too? Maybe it might but he couldn't be sure either way.

The puppet… is still out there hiding somewhere… Could he…

…ask it?

...Did he want to?

Either way, he had to find it to contain it and prevent Freddy’s from having any more reasons to shut down.

Knowing the puppet was maybe a person of some sort, though, that course of action felt kind of… wrong…

No, Scott didn't have time for such ethical quandries in these dire times. He reached for his flashlight and began his search. It was certainly daunting, both because that thing could be lurking anywhere, and depending on its mood, it could be any level of dangerous if he was caught unaware.

Then again, death by puppet was probably far more favorable than the “proper” way for a Phone Guy to go…

Scott decided he hadn’t checked the ballpit in a while today, so he made that his first search destination. As he approached the door for that room, though, a chilling whisper from behind him stopped him in his tracks:

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you?”

He immediately turned, and the flashlight beam revealed a damaged puppet standing amongst the dining tables just two rows away.

“I-I suppose I am, yes.”

“To put me back in my box, right?”

“I can't have you causing any more trouble for me.”

“Do I have to stay in there?

…I have no desire to hurt anyone you know.”

“Th-That’s not what I saw there in the Saferoom.”

“Those two were different. They’re murderers.”

Scott had suspected that a fair bit, actually, but it was still chilling to hear that seemingly confirmed. Dave was obvious, but perhaps after seeing how Jack was with that girl, he’d started to dismiss his previous doubts with him. He didn't remember Jack being like Dave—

“‘Dee,’ was it? Do you know Jack?”

“I do.”

“How so?”

“He was my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“I’m not a robot, Scott. I’m the soul of Dee Kennedy.”

Uncertainty was finally clearing up as things started clicking into place.

“And that makes him Jack Kennedy, then?”

“Naturally.”

But as addicting as the straightforward answers were, he still hesitated to get to the crux of his questions.

“... …Was there a Peter Kennedy as well?”

“Peter? He was our older brother. Why?”

That confirmed it. It was so obvious now that he knew for sure; Peter did have something like siblings, didn't he? Of course he did!

“Do you know Peter?”

“...Sort of? …This is going to sound strange because it is, but… I have several of his memories rattling around in my memory banks for some reason.”

“Memories? Like what?” she asked with sudden alert interest.

“It’s… Well, a lot of them involve a wife named Caroline. She’s in most of them. Her, and his job at Freddy’s before he died. Oh, and a kind of pinkish man, the guy that killed him. He and Peter both keep showing up in my nightmares lately…”

The puppet was perked up over something he said, though remained silent for a while. But then it eventually cut the silence, bursting with:

“Your ring, you have a wedding ring, right?”

“Y-Yeah, of course, I do have a wife besides Caroline…”

“Take it off! Is there any writing on the inside!?”

“U-Uh, hold on a sec…?” Scott did as told. After sliding it off, he carefully held the flashlight up to it at an angle where he could inspect the inside of it. After a few moments, he did notice some fancy etched calligraphy.

…

His heart skipped a beat.

“Does it say something like ‘Peter, lawful husband of Caroline’?”

“How do you know that!?”

“Because I was there when you picked it out! And you were so annoying when you made sure everyone saw it!”

Peter’s eyes were still glued to the golden ring he was holding, still in awe that such an answer had been on his finger this whole time, so he didn’t even notice her rapidly approaching—

“Woah—!”

—for a hug.

“It IS you! It’s you, Peter, isn’t it!?”

“...” He couldn't bring himself to reciprocate the hug.

“...Isn’t it?”

“... I don’t know. Just because I… have his ring… there's countless other ways I could end up with his ring. Because I-I’m Scott Cawthon. I have my own life, my own family, my own memories—”

“—But you have Peter’s memories!”

“It’s probably a programming fluke—”

“No way!” she whined.

“Puppet, it’s time you returned to your box,” he said coldly, unwrapping her rope-like limbs from their embrace.

“No! Not unless you tell me that you’re Peter!”

“...” He simply couldn't keep eye contact with her anymore.

“Please! Peter, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

“... Good night, Miss Puppet. Behave yourself, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No!”

Scott turned to make his exit.

Stringy arms immediately wrapped around him from behind again, holding him back.

“Dee—”

“That’s right, I’m Dee! Your baby sister! You raised me yourself, you and Jack!”

“That’s enough, Dee, please let me go.”

“No! Please don’t leave me, not again!”

Peter’s heart shattered.

“Please!”

…No, he saw no other recourse than to just make a run for it, and with enough force that he broke free from her grasp.

“Don’t go! Please!” the child wailed behind him, abandoning her dignity. He wished this was only the first time he'd heard that wailing, because he couldn't help her this time—

His heart was racing—he fumbled through the keys again once he reached the locked entrance while the Puppet rapidly followed him; when she arrived—

“Dee, enough.” A different voice came out of him, and with enough desperate sternness that she stopped immediately in her tracks.

“Peter... that’s your voice…”

“Goodnight, Dee,” he firmly reiterated, switching back to the voicebox like nothing happened.

“No!” she protested one last time—

His cold, sweaty hands turned the key and quickly pushed the door open to leave as fast as he could— ...and then firmly pressing his back against the outside building wall which he started to slide down, he attempted to soothe a panic attack he didn't realize he was having until now.

At this rate, his brain was going to fry.

(Chapter 14)->

#ngl that last half of the fic was so fun to write #thanks for all your support throughout the year! <3 #dayshift at freddy's #dsaf #dayshift at freddys #dsaf fanfic #peter kennedy #dee kennedy #jack kennedy #dave miller #dsaf dee #dsaf peter

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