Chapter Text
The day William Afton meets you begins much like any other.
To the casual observer it might appear as if the man wearing the purple suit is unaware of his surroundings, his attention seemingly focused on the newspaper spread open before him hovering just over the booth’s table. His business partner and best friend is seated across from him, digging a fork into a stack of griddle crakes slathered in maple syrup. Not real maple syrup, of course; just that synthetic, sugary concoction that stands in for the genuine article.
He takes a small sip from the ceramic cup filled with black coffee tucked beneath the local headlines. He never eats breakfast; coffee and cigarettes typically comprise his morning repasts.
“What time are we leaving for Ed’s party tonight?”
“Five thirty,” the co-owner of Fazbear Entertainment mutters, his gaze still fixed on the newsprint.
Henry spears another portion of his meal and chews thoughtfully. “I guess it’s quite the invite list. He’s trying to promote his latte, you know…”
The gray eyed man grunts noncommittally. “Waste of time, those gimmicks of his. He should stick with what his father established. Robotics are the future, not some foul, over-caffeinated beverage,” he growls disapprovingly, finally turning a page and beginning his intense scan anew.
“I tried some. It’s not that bad.” He looks pointedly at the dark liquid his friend has been consuming. “Certainly not any worse than drinking that.”
“If you’re going to add a gallon of creamer and sugar, you might as well not even bother with the coffee part at all.” His eyes flick up to regard the bearded man’s features. “Anyone interesting attending this evening?”
Henry shrugs. “I’m not sure. Depends on what you mean by interesting.”
“I mean interesting in the business sense, of course. Potentially profitable. For Fazbear Entertainment,” he further clarifies with exaggerated patience.
“Dunno. But it sounded like he plans on really filling up the manor with a crowd.”
“A nice piece of property, that. He’s making poor use of it, though.” Finding nothing of interest on the pages open before him, he turns to the next section.
“How so?” Henry wipes his mouth with a paper napkin, then crumples it into a tight ball and sets it on his syrup glazed plate.
“It could serve other purposes,” William replies vaguely. “Don’t forget to ask about those springlock plans again. He’s taking far too long with them.”
“I think he’s just being thorough about their safety,” the fair haired man murmurs.
“Or he’s spending too much time on these other nonsensical endeavors. Sugary children’s cereal and talking mushroom dolls aren’t going to make anyone a fortune.”
As expected, his business partner is quick to defend their mutual acquaintance. At this point William begins to tune his companion out, draining a little more of the coffee from its mug while browsing the rest of the contents of the newspaper.
Suddenly his head lifts, one word filtering through all the rest during Henry’s speech. “What did you say?”
“I said I think production might slow a bit because Fiona is going to be busy with the new baby and she won’t have as much time to—”
“—Not that,” the other man interrupts quickly. “The other.”
Henry frowns. “I don’t remember. I was talking about Ed’s sister coming home from college, and…”
“Yes, that.” William folds the paper several times until it mostly resembles the tidy pile it had been pressed into inside the dispenser outside the diner then sets it aside, leaning forward slightly. “His sister. Tell me about her.”
“I don’t really know her that well. I’ve only met her a couple of times.”
“What was she studying in school?”
“Engineering. Same thing we did. Ed said she was going to intern at the factory over the summer.”
“Is she, now? Working under her older brother’s shadow,” he muses thoughtfully.
Henry’s brow furrows. “Why are you so interested in her?”
“She might be useful to us. Help us nudge our friend,” his mouth twists around this last word, as if tastes sour to him, “when he needs it. Maybe gather information. Someday she might even want to come work for us.”
“You want to use her as a spy? Poach the man’s own sister? Come on, Bill, that’s pretty low.”
“I think it’s actually quite clever.” He holds up a hand and the waitress delivers the check shortly after. “Imagine you’re fresh out of college again. You’re eager to prove yourself. But instead of getting to do that, you’re trapped in the family business with no real prospects of career mobility. Your sibling inherited the company, and with it, all of the rights. All of the potential. You’re just paid labor. Probably not very well paid, either.”
“He’s got a baby on the way,” Henry protests. “Of course he’s going to save money where he can. Anyway, I don’t think it’s anything like what you’re suggesting. It can be tough finding work after you graduate. I think she’s probably going to be grateful. Treat it as a stepping stone to something else once she’s got some practical, real-world experience.”
“If that’s the case, there’s no harm in making sure she steps towards Fazbear Entertainment, then, is there?” William doesn’t bother waiting for a reply, digging his wallet out of his pants pocket and selecting a crisp bill from within. He sets it down on top of the check, then moves the coffee mug to secure them both. “You can treat me next time,” he says cheerily, sliding from the booth. “See you tonight.” He claps the seated man on the shoulder and then heads towards the exit.
***
You’ve never been one for parties.
Social gatherings tend to make you nervous. You find yourself ducking into the kitchen frequently under the pretense of helping to serve the trays of canapés, but in truth it’s really just a convenient excuse to escape the suffocating press of bodies. You’ve never seen so many people in your childhood home before. It’s unnerving to say the least.
You’ve just finished returning an empty tray to the growing stack beside the sink when you notice the man in the purple suit hovering just inside the doorway.
He’s tall, well over six feet, with a thatch of dark hair slicked mostly into place and gray eyes the color of a storm cloud. Those orbs barely retain a focus on you, his concentration clearly diverted elsewhere, but then they abruptly return, a whiplash strike that freezes you in place.
“You’re Eddie’s sister,” he murmurs.
You nod. You can’t decide if his outfit is hideous or elegant. It’s such a vibrant shade, and the texture is shiny, like satin. His skin looks so pale beside it. Porcelain. Bloodless. Except for his lips. These are pink. Full. Twitching now, as if he is fighting a smile.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m afraid there’s been an accident. A collision with another guest,” he explains, brushing fingers against his lapel. You notice then the discoloration, a slight greasy darkening splotch. “Is there something I can borrow to clean this, dish soap or…?”
“Oh! Yes, I’m sure there is, hang on.” You grab a handful of napkins still sitting in their plastic shrink wrap, wetting a portion and applying a dollop of blue liquid. One hand slips beneath the material to brace it, your fingers rapidly discovering the heat the man is radiating as you begin to scrub at the area.
“How did you know who I am?”
“It’s an ill kept secret, I’m afraid. You’re a dead ringer for your brother, though I must say the looks in the family certainly deviated entirely in your favor,” he murmurs.
Your cheeks flush at the compliment, your hand suddenly halting when you realize you’re leaving behind shredded bits of dampened napkin, the stain marring the man’s garment now spread much wider. “I feel like I’m making this worse,” you apologize.
“It’s alright. It’s overdue for a trip to the dry cleaner’s anyway,” he replies nonchalantly.
You like the man’s voice. British accent. Mellow. Lush. You wonder how he’s found his way to Hurricane of all places. A small town still, even with the recent surge in the population. What could possibly have brought him to your brother’s home?
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”
“Where are my manners? I should have introduced myself from the outset. My name is William Afton.”
You find yourself struggling to both maintain his gaze and free yourself from it. You’ve never seen eyes like that before; not their appearance, nor their intensity. “How do you know my brother?”
“My company has contracted him to manufacture some of our animatronic designs. My business partner and I have been friends with him for several years now. Time you spent away at college, I understand.”
You head dips slightly in acknowledgment. “Once again you’ve got me at a disadvantage. You seem to be well informed and I don’t know anything about you.”
He smiles, and you realize this is how the man counteracts that razor sharp gaze of his. You feel yourself succumbing to it, utterly charmed by this gesture. “That’s easily remedied. Shall we have a walk around the grounds? I wouldn’t mind getting some clear air and enjoying a bit of one-on-one conversation.”
“Okay,” you agree, crumpling the napkin into a tight ball and tossing it into the wastebin before you lead the partygoer from the room.
***
William hadn’t counted on you being so pretty.
That just makes his ploy all that much more enjoyable. He doesn’t even have to feign his attraction, keeping his voice low and smooth, his smile ever at the ready. It takes a bit to pry you free from the shell you've encased yourself in, but little by little he spies glimpses inside of it. You’re enthusiastic about your prospective career. Loyal to your family, and that presents a bit of a hiccup, but he’s not daunted by this challenge in the slightest. With time, he can erode this. It’s a gift of his, that silver tongue. He knows precisely what to say, and exactly at what moment to utter it. All that’s needed is a little patience mixed with his natural charisma and charm.
He slips his jacket around your bare shoulders when he sees you shiver at the evening’s gradual dip in temperature; instinctively finds the perfect elevation to survey the Murray estate by your side. He catches you looking at him as much as the grounds and offers another secret smile full of promises.
Who knows? He might even keep some of them.
“I would love to have this much space. You’d never find anything like this in the city,” he murmurs appreciatively, his head tipping back, nostrils flaring slightly to inhale the fragrant crush of grass and wildflowers beneath his feet, a rare verdant luxury in this typically arid climate. William doubts the inventor even knows what he truly possesses here. The warehouse is visible in the distance, a tall building standing guard over the flatlands below. Edwin had once mentioned the underground tunnel leading from home to work, another convenience he grudgingly appreciates.
“It is special,” you agree. “My grandparents chose this site specifically for the location, and the view.” You readjust the loaned jacket draped over your shoulders. “When I was little, I used to…” Your voice trails off.
“What? What were you about to say?” He gently prompts.
You shake your head. “It’s silly.”
This from the woman whose brother makes bad puns and designs goofy looking inventions, he muses wryly. “Please, indulge me.”
“Well, I was just remembering that I used to pretend this was my castle.”
“A princess waiting for her prince, then?” William smiles.
“I actually liked to pretend I was a knight going off into battle. I’d lie down and close my eyes and roll down the hill over there,” you point to an area just visible in the fading light, “which seemed as high as a mountain when I was younger. It scared me, but it excited me, too, tumbling down to the bottom.”
“Hmmm.” He begins walking and you scramble to keep up.
“Where are you going?”
“Want to give it a try.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe a bit. Is this the spot?”
“Yes, I think so.” You watch as the tall figure sits on the ground. “You’re really going to do this?”
“Why not?”
“You’re going to get grass stains on your shirt for one thing,” you caution.
The man shrugs. “So I’ll add it to the pile to be dry cleaned. Are you going to join me?”
“You’re crazy,” you say again, but it sounds more affectionate this time.
“You’ve come this far. You might as well finish the journey.” He stretches up a hand and you take it, settling beside him, your long skirt riding up slightly. You shrug out of his jacket, carefully setting it aside.
“You’re really going to do this.”
“I really am.”
You give a startled little laugh, plucking at a few blades of grass. “Okay, I’ll do it with you,” you finally commit.
“Probably should scoot back a little so we don’t knock into each other.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I always did this alone, didn’t think…”
”Didn't Ed ever join you?”
You shake your head. “He liked playing inside. Tinkering with the leftover scraps from Dad’s work.”
“Ready?” He calls out once you’ve distanced yourself.
“I feel silly.”
“There’s no one here to judge you.”
“Except you.”
“It was my idea, remember?”
“I guess.”
“I’m lying down now.” He waits a moment after getting into position.
“Okay.”
“Eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
“On three. One. Two. Three!”
He hears the nervous little shriek as you both begin to roll down the hill, followed by a burst of giggling, sharing your mirth as he finally comes to a stop at the bottom.
“Alright, then?” He asks cheerfully, brushing at his clothing. He’s fairly certain his hair is quite mussed by now. Normally he’s careful about his appearance, but he’s willing to sacrifice it in favor of winning you over.
“Yes, I think so. It’s a bit bumpier than I remember,” you reply ruefully.
William chuckles as he pushes himself to his feet, then walks towards you and offers a hand. He tugs you upright easily, noticing you stagger a bit, palms splaying across his chest to steady yourself.
“Sorry, I’m a little dizzy.”
He traps one of your hands before you can finish regaining your balance. “Let me take you out some evening, hmmm? I’ll pick you up for dinner.”
“Okay,” you agree breathlessly.
Too easy.