Chapter Text
It was a wonder how fast things could change in just a few months.
In September, the credits rolled on Billy's directorial debut, a glorious year-long project that had consumed so much of him. Victory had been a buzz like no other, and he'd never tasted it so rich before; even he had been on the edge of his seat right until the paramedics had him and Stu en route to the nearest hospital.
Victory even sated them long enough to scrounge up enough money to leave town comfortably. Stu's parents had always been fond of throwing money at his problems, and the Prescotts were hardly going to miss all that he'd borrowed from their house to pawn. He'd been planning that for a while, too.
They packed their entire lives into the back of Billy's car some night in January, driving east and not looking back. He couldn't even count the number of Woodsboros they'd driven through. They passed by and slept in far too many quiet towns, desperate to lay low and unable to enjoy the bliss that freedom was meant to give.
What was worse than the credits rolling on a great movie just to move on to a shitty sequel?
Going northeast had probably been a bad idea. Billy wasn't used to snow that stuck, especially not when March was around the corner. It stuck to the ground, and his shoes, and the bottoms of his jeans, and he was sure that it would stick to the rest of him if it was piled up any higher. The coats that him and Stu had for protection hardly did what they were needed for, either.
Navigating through deserts and mountains with Stu had brought him closer to murdering the man than ever before, though, so making it as far as they did and staying in one piece would have to be good enough.
Really, it felt like Billy's patience was waning just as fast as their money was, and the fact that they were having to look for a job in some shitty little town in Minnesota to begin with was making him hot. The rejection really had him simmering. He was itching to cause damage.
After nearly a week in one place, funds were meager enough that meals were sparse, and a few more days without income would leave the car's gas tank emptied. And, in spite of their best efforts-
"We've tried everywhere. Nobody wants us."
"There's no way we've actually tried everywhere." Billy had been pacing the expanse of their motel room ever since Stu returned to it. "There's gotta be somewhere that'll hire us. At least one of us."
"It feels like we have!" Stu whined. "I mean, seriously, every day that we've been here, we've been to every place with a damn hiring sign."
"Tell me where you've applied for."
"Fine, I'll tell you. Again." Stu huffed dramatically, holding up his hands and counting with his fingers. "The movie theater, grocery store, hardware store, two gas stations, and three fucking restaurants."
"What did you say in your interviews?" he interrogated, stilling in place.
"Different things every time." The first time they had this talk, Stu had been pouting. The past few times, irritation twisted his face instead. "What have you been saying?"
"I'm new in town, I need a job, and I'll do whatever they'll take me for," Billy hissed out. "For whatever pay they'll give me."
Degrading wasn't even a strong enough word to describe it. Getting nominated for a fucking Razzie would be less painful than groveling for jobs that spit back in his face.
Billy's hands squeezed tight, nails digging into his palms until his fists ached. He breathed in through his nose, reminded himself that he couldn't afford to break anything, and started pacing again.
As easy as it was to do sometimes, it was cowardly to put all the blame on Stu, and completely unfair, too. Billy didn't understand the comfort he found in small towns, but it was stupid to pretend that either of them wanted to be sleeping in frigid motel rooms and surviving off cereal.
Suddenly, Stu broke the quiet, snapping his fingers and perking up.
"Y'know, this morning, I was trying to get in with that diner again," Stu said, "and the guy at the counter mentioned this place… um, Freddy Fazbear's, he said."
Billy deadpanned. "That sounds stupid."
"That's what I said." Stu's eyes were glinting, though, leaning with his palms on his knees. "But the dork raised a good point, if you can believe that."
"Spit it out, then."
"Apparently, Freddy's will hire almost anyone." Stu's mood had definitely shifted; he was beaming, proud enough that he couldn't hide it. "We could try there."
"Yeah?" Billy hummed, then nodded. "I think I can play the part. I'll give it a try."
"Alright." Stu yawned, standing up and stretching so he could sling his arms around Billy's shoulders. "You wanna wait a few? I was thinking about hitting the shower."
"No way I'm doing my hair again today." Billy felt his voice softening, though, leaning his head to the side so Stu's mouth could settle on his neck. "You wait. I might join you when I get back."
"Boo." Stu pouted, but still kissed his way upward, trailing from his pulse point to his jaw. "You'll do good, though. Things'll work out. We already made it this far!"
How Stu could be so optimistic was beyond Billy, but it helped to keep him tethered as he stepped into Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place.
It was early enough in the day that the building was mostly empty, with the vast majority of the usual patrons at school. There were a few people around his age milling about, enjoying the peace before the impending rush, and he couldn't ignore the pleasant surprise that the place provided him with. In all honesty, it probably wouldn't be too bad to hang around in, especially if Stu was with him.
Billy wandered for a few moments, getting a feel for the space. There were some windows, but not many, and the lights felt hot overhead. Four sets of plastic animatronic eyes unnerved him in a way he couldn't quite place, like they triggered an animal instinct baked deep inside of him.
Not that the staff-only section he was led through made him feel any safer, though, nor the office he was ushered into. How was he meant to feel safe, with a man towering over him and watching him like a hawk?
Billy sat down, and his muscles tensed as he heard the door click shut behind him.
The pizzeria's owner was tall, with graying hair and piercing eyes, and he immediately made Billy's gut twist. Memories of police stations and principals' offices rose to the front of his mind.
"I heard you were looking for a job. Is that so?"
Like most of the people in the area, he was a bit too friendly for comfort - far too cheerful for something as boring as an interview. Even still, Billy nodded, setting his jaw and reminding himself to play his role. "Yep. That's why I'm here."
As if there was any way he'd ever be caught dead going deeper into this place than the arcade without good reason.
"Good, good." The man was smiling with far too many teeth, forced and unnatural, and he held out a hand to shake. "William Afton. And you?"
If only he had a different identity to offer. Clenching his jaw even tighter, he replied, "Billy Loomis."
"Pleasure to meet you." William clicked a pen a few times, tapping it on a pad of paper to get the ink flowing. "Now, usually I'd expect a resume, but I'm willing to give it a pass. Do you have any experience?"
"No." Billy practically had to bite down any sharper commentary. "And I haven't graduated, either. A resume would've been a waste of paper."
The pen in William's hand moved, and he barely stifled a laugh as Billy spoke. Like most of the interviewers he was subjected to, the gregarious behavior was a thin veneer to cover mockery and contempt.
William Afton was an antagonistic force, practically typecast to be a villain in Billy's life. Unlike so many others that had filled the role, too, he seemed to suit it; there was something about him, if a bit inexplicable, that just made him feel wrong.
Billy needed to get the upper hand somehow, and he needed it so desperately that his teeth ached.
"Well, then," William said, gesturing with his empty hand. "Tell me a little about yourself."
Billy stared at him, holding his tongue and pausing to think. He needed to say something safe. "I'm nineteen years old."
"Fascinating," the man drawled, pen beginning to move. "You from around here, Billy Loomis?"
"No."
"Where from, then?" Cold blue eyes locked with his, sharp enough to make Billy's skin crawl. "C'mon, kid. If you want a job from me, you gotta give me something."
"I'm from Woodsboro." It felt like there was venom on Billy's tongue, and he swallowed it down hard. "In California."
William whistled, slow and drawn out as he penned down the information. "You're a far way from home, Cali boy. How are you liking this weather?"
"I'm not," Billy replied, feeling his lip curl.
"Feels like I've heard that name before, though." Like a curious animal, William tilted his head to the side. "Is it famous for something?"
Despite his best efforts, emotion bubbled up in his chest. A thrilling rush like nothing else made his pulse buzz, and he took a moment to settle himself. "You might've heard about the massacre."
Massacre - and that wasn't just Billy being self-centered. Other people had given it that name first, and he adopted it with pride. The Woodsboro Massacre.
It was hard to play his part when he felt so satisfied, but the challenge was a necessary one. For his and Stu's sake both, he had to play traumatized. He hardly felt guilty about lying, though, and especially not to the man in front of him.
Besides, Billy had told the story so many times that it was like second nature. The fact that he'd only gotten raised eyebrows in response emboldened him to speak.
"It was… um, it was rough. My girlfriend's dad went crazy, crashed a party we were at…" He kept his voice low and pensive, swallowing thickly when he paused. "My… my friend and I, we barely made it out with our lives."
William hummed thoughtfully. Even still, his eyes didn't soften. "Damn. I think I did read about that once. That's a shame."
"Yeah." Billy shook his head, dropping his gaze to stare at his lap. "We just couldn't stay in Woodsboro anymore. Felt too heavy."
"So your friend's with you, then?" William mused. "Is he waiting for you here?"
"He's at the motel."
"You're living in the-" William's pen stopped abruptly. "Jesus. Could your life get any worse?"
Billy wanted to eviscerate the man, or maybe bleed him out nice and slow. He wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes, the-
The life that hardly seemed to be there when he really examined them closely. The only identifiable emotion in them was amusement, stark in contrast to the sympathetic frown on his face.
William Afton certainly wouldn't be a pleasant boss, but he was playing his role as antagonist well.
Maybe the sequel wouldn't be as miserable as Billy first thought. Maybe it just had a lousy start.
"Well, do you have any talents or skills?" William prompted.
Billy had to take his time to think, and it felt even more humiliating than the first time. None of his skills applied to some dinky pizzeria in the Midwest. "I guess I can clean… and I'm a solid hunter, too."
He didn't even bother writing that one down. Instead, William sighed through his teeth, setting his pen down entirely and folding his hands together. "Let me level with you, Billy."
There it was. Another rejection. Billy bit down on his tongue and waited for it to hit.
"I want to help you, but you're really not giving me much to work with here." William pinched the bridge of his nose. "I mean, you've got no experience, no connections, no diploma, maybe a skill and a half, and your attitude stinks."
Billy fought to keep his composure, but his mind was racing. "I'll do anything."
"Hm." Immediately, dead eyes were gleaming. "Anything?"
He could take the guy down with Stu's help. Take him back to the motel and sit him in the tub and cut him just to watch him bleed out in the water. "I really need a job."
"I'm sure you do." William leaned a bit closer, and it clicked in Billy's mind that he was leering. The red flags he'd been detecting were finally making some sense. "But I'm not convinced you want it. It'd do you some good to show me a little respect."
Would he let Stu kill the man, or do it himself? So much of Billy wanted to do it himself.
"When I ask you a question, I want to hear 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir.' Am I understood?" William prompted.
Through bared teeth, Billy answered, "Yes, sir."
"Much better." The pen was in his hands again, moving fluidly as he scribbled on the page below. "There's some skills I can put down. You learn fast, and you can follow orders."
Billy appreciated the quiet while he had it, watching the man write and trying to put his mind at bay.
Money was more important than the violence he yearned for. If the motel room felt cold, the car would feel leagues colder, especially as they ran low on gas. He needed the money.
If only he just stayed back and took Stu up on his offer.
"We have a few positions open, but I think you'd work as a security guard." William was so suddenly cheerful, warm and borderline affectionate. "You think that'll work for you, Billy Loomis?"
"…Yes, sir." Billy should've felt relieved, but he was tense instead. His heart wouldn't stop pounding. "When can I start?"
"Not so fast, now." The forced, toothy smile came back brighter than ever before. "You said you'd do anything, didn't you?"
Billy's face twisted before he could stop it. This guy really was a fucking pervert. "I… I need to make a call, if that's the case."
"Oh, by all means." William gestured to the phone on his desk, watching Billy closer than before. "We've got a payphone, too, if you have change."
As much as he wanted some privacy, there was no way Billy was groveling for coins from this guy, and he only had keys in his pockets.
He couldn't think about stabbing William with the keys. He just couldn't. They didn't have enough money for him to leave a bloody mess behind.
Begrudgingly, Billy stood up, grabbing the phone and dialing the number to their motel room. He punched in the extension, pressed the phone to his ear, and… it rang until it got to voicemail. He cursed under his breath, grinding his teeth together as he dropped the handset back onto the hook.
For a brief moment, Billy glanced at William - then he sharpened his glare on the keypad. The bastard was far too pleased with himself. Again, Billy punched in the numbers, gripping the phone tighter and waiting for a response.
"What do you want?"
"What the hell are you so busy doing that you can't answer me?" Billy hissed. He clung to the illusion of privacy, keeping his voice low.
"Oh, shit- sorry, Billy." From the sound of his voice, too, Stu meant it. Over the line, the TV got quieter. "I thought it was housekeeping trying to call me. What's the matter?"
"I'm at my interview, and I wanted to make sure we're on the same page." Billy took a sharp breath in through his nose, then sighed it out. "We're willing to do anything for a job. Right?"
"…Do you need me to come up there?"
"Answer my question."
Stu shut the TV off entirely, from the sound of it, and cursed under his breath. After a horrible, stifling pause, he huffed. "Whatever we have to do."
"Right." Billy nodded, mostly for himself, and forced himself to breathe again. "Right. Okay."
"Love you." The warmth in Stu's voice poured out from the receiver, but it felt brief and fleeting.
Billy couldn't forget where he was, nor the voyeur watching from across the desk. "Yeah. You too."
The phone dropped from his hand and back into place, and Billy returned his glare to William. His smile had mostly faded, though not for lack of satisfaction. He was like a hungry animal, relaxing and watching the prey walk right into his claws, and Billy had no real choice but to offer himself up.
Either his sequel was developing a strange subplot, or Billy had stumbled onto a porn parody of his own life. Whatever the truth was, though, he had to live with it. This was a necessary evil to face.
William scooted his chair back, gesturing loosely to the space on the floor in front of him, and Billy quietly complied. He sunk to his knees slowly, eyes locked on the older man's face. The tips of his ears were starting to burn.
"Have you ever done this before?" William prompted, leaning back in his chair and parting his legs languidly.
Billy's eyes narrowed, and he slowly let his gaze drop. The front of the man's slacks were being pushed to the absolute limit, erection straining against its confines. Saliva was already pooling in his mouth on instinct.
"I asked you a question." Without warning, a massive hand settled on top of his head, tugging on Billy's hair and forcing eye contact. "And I expect you to answer it."
Billy had to force the words out. "Yes, sir."
"Good boy." William lightly scratched the back of his scalp. "Then I shouldn't have to give you any instructions."
As casual as he could manage, Billy scooted himself closer on his knees and reached out to grab William's belt buckle. He pressed his thumbs into the cold metal, grounding his thoughts and helping himself to focus. Billy wasn't exactly inexperienced, but he was more often on the receiving end, and Stu seemed content even when his finesse was lacking. Something told him that the older man's standards were a lot higher.
He would blow his own head off before he begged for instructions, though.
With careful precision, Billy unbuckled William's belt, then unzipped his pants. The hand in his hair got fractionally tighter, and a sigh sounded above him. Emboldened, his hand dipped inside, palming the bulge in the purple boxers below.
Big. A bit bigger than he expected.
When he wasn't interrupted, Billy continued onward. He slid his hand beneath the waistband, shivering as heated flesh made contact with his skin. The man's cock was rock hard, throbbing under his palm, and it stood proud as soon as the cloth was pulled away.
The length was comparable to Stu's, which made the task daunting enough, but the girth was almost startling; it was fat, thick like a beer can and already starting to leak. When Billy curled his hand around the shaft, it felt heavy and hot.
His own dick was embarrassingly hard, and he was grateful for the power to keep William's focus elsewhere. He gave a few pumps, then leaned forward to give a couple of experimental licks. So similar, but so different. If he blurred his vision, or maybe shut his eyes, he could almost pretend it was Stu in the chair above him.
Billy trailed his tongue downward, sighing through his nose as he got a better feel for what he was working with. No way he was taking the whole thing comfortably. He moved cautiously, taking his time as he mapped out the space - long enough that he heard William huff above him and hold his hair tighter.
"You're sure that you've done this before?"
Irritation sparked in Billy, and he rolled his eyes. He'd already made his confession to the man, and he refused to plead his case with words anymore. Instead, he changed his posture, lapping precum from the head of William's cock before suckling it into his mouth.
"Huh." William relaxed, if only slightly, and gave him a bit more leeway. "Guess you are."
To Billy's dismay, the taste was pleasant to him; it was salty and bitter, sure, but the shiver that ran down his spine was something he couldn't ignore. He didn't do this with Stu often enough. He would have to change that going forward.
He mouthed at the tip of William's cock, teasing it with his tongue a bit more before he began to sink downwards properly. Billy dropped his jaw a little lower, struggling to accommodate the stiff length that was already overstuffing his mouth.
It wasn't long before he felt himself gagging. He tried to pull back, feeling drool pour from his mouth, but William only allowed him to go so far. The head still weighed down his tongue, resting there as he caught his breath.
Blunt nails scratched his scalp after a while, light pressure on the back of Billy's head beginning to coax him down again. He swallowed around the intrusion, doing his best to keep his throat relaxed as he bobbed his head and attempted to sink further down than before. His throat spasmed, begging him to pull away again, but he continued onward.
Besides, William didn't give him much choice. His fingers had woven into the strands of Billy's hair, gripping and tugging whenever he didn't move quite fast enough, and any struggling went mostly ignored.
"So tense." William pet his hair, mockingly tender. The pressure from his hand was unrelenting. "You're doing better, though. I think you can take it all this time."
Billy's eyes shot wide, and he attempted to push back. He only made it an inch up before succumbing to the force behind him, gagging as the back of his throat was rammed into.
"Aw, c'mon. Be a good boy, now," William tutted. "Don't go tapping out on me."
Breathing was getting harder, but he might've just been freaking himself out. Either way, he was beyond the point of humiliation. Billy whined around the cock in his mouth, bracing his hands on the man's thighs and pushing back hard enough that he could get free. He coughed and panted, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Billy… hey. Look at me." William's hand shifted its position, gently curling to hold him by the chin. "I'm willing to guide you, but you need to ask for my help for me to give it."
Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, but instinct told him that asking for help would be equivalent to giving up control - and, even in the face of that instinct, Billy couldn't bring himself to care anymore. "I need… um, I need help, sir."
"Attaboy." William patted his cheek, then withdrew his touch entirely.
Slowly, using the arms of his chair for leverage, William stood up. His height had been hulking before, but it felt even more so when Billy was on his knees. His dick was more intimidating, too, hanging heavy between his legs.
Billy swallowed a few times, then let his mouth fall open again when his throat was cleared. He prepared himself as best he could, feeling hands steady his head as the man fed himself back inside. Unlike before, he was entirely lacking in patience, rutting in and out of his mouth like it was something casual for him. He didn't even pretend to be concerned when Billy gagged and sputtered.
To his own credit, though, he was doing way better than he expected of himself. Really, the pain was lesser when he compared it to so many other experiences in his life, and it was borderline thrilling.
Something felt fulfilling about being used by someone who obviously didn't care much about him.
"That's it. Just take it." Both of William's hands were clutching his head, tugging on his hair and steadily picking up his pace. "Didn't I tell you that you could?"
Billy wouldn't have believed it if he didn't feel pubes tickling his nose. A lot of effort had to go into not choking every time his lips made contact with the man's pelvis, eyes burning and watering up from the strain.
"Bet we could train that gag reflex out of you eventually." William was rambling, thrusting into his mouth at a much sloppier pace and panting loudly. "Wouldn't even take me that long."
It wasn't taking him very long to get close to his peak, either.
Maybe he wasn't trying, or maybe Billy was losing track of time, but it felt like a waste to worry about it in the moment. He would spend plenty of time ruminating on it later. He needed to brace himself while he still had the chance.
William better give him this fucking job. He earned it.
The man's breathing got even heavier above him, and he held his own in turn, only to huff it out as his head was yanked back by the hair. There was a mess of drool down his chin and neck, and it seemed like William was planning on making him messier. The man's free hand was fisted around his cock, moving so fast that it practically blurred.
Billy shut his eyes, braced himself, and only flinched slightly when William groaned and cum struck his skin. Some landed on his tongue, but it felt like most of it didn't - his face was as good as painted, and some of his hair felt uncomfortably sticky.
William was still grunting, if a bit softer now, and the slick sound of his hand didn't stop for another few moments. Slowly, he eased up his grip until Billy could completely pull away.
"I really am fond of quick learners. They always make for good employees."
By the time Billy's eyes were open again, the man was already tidied and redressed. He felt himself scowling, mood souring about as fast as the cum was drying on him.
"And you're pretty in general, too," William muttered, plucking a box of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one. "You start Saturday as daytime security. There's a training tape, but someone'll be around to make sure you're doing things right."
Billy's throat ached, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "…and Stu?"
"Hm?" William's eyebrows raised, squinting at him.
"My friend." The word felt poisonous, but he couldn't bring himself to disclose anything further. He had already given the man too much too freely.
William snorted. "You're adorable, but definitely not that good. He needs to interview, just like everyone else."
Billy glowered at him, but dropped his glare as he stood up and grabbed at a box of tissues.
"There's a staff bathroom just down the hall," William offered, smoke billowing from his mouth as he spoke. "If you need some privacy."
As Billy did a quick wipe of his face, he watched the man stride toward the window and linger there as he smoked. It was a cue to leave, he figured, and one he eagerly took.
He had to remind himself not to slam the bathroom door, locking it behind him and hunching over the sink. For as small and dirty as the bathroom might've been, being alone was as soothing as the warm water he washed his face with, and the car gave him a similar comfort. He had to remind himself of what he had gained, too - with only a minor blow to his dignity, he finally had a source of income. They'd be able to afford gas and lodging with whatever they had left, and fresh food when money started to come in.
It sucked that the old bastard was selfish enough to not even notice his arousal, sure, but he couldn't be too mad. After all, Billy had a shower with Stu he had to look forward to, and that would serve him much better.