Hello reader! I am so glad to finally get this out.

A/N: You can safely skip to the story. The rest of the pre-chapter notes are just pedantic rambling on part of the author. Please do forgive him; this fanfic is his first outlet since learning about FNAF, and he's a little chatty.

This story's writing is the result of a fanfic writer experiment/self-challenge against a known weakness of mine. I tend to be unable to focus on writing whenever real life decides to interfere, on top of the regular writer's block whenever I know something's bad but just can't figure out how to fix it. It's just difficult seeing traffic activity on fics and not be able to deliver on promised release dates for my chapters, y'know? And when I miss deadlines on regular updates, motivation gets a hit and it all snowballs downward from there.

The solution I came up with? Upload nothing until everything is done. And what a horribly effective solution it was, holy crap. I started concepts for this early October, three freaking months ago, and only had the promise of a possible readership later to sustain me. There was definitely no motivation drain like when missing deadlines, but I would not want to write like that again. The pressure of having a headcanon I want to share, and secluding myself from other's headcanons (so I can fully develop one that I can proudly call mine with as little outside influence as possible) is difficult.

Disclaimer: I do not own FNAF or any of the characters from the game. Picture is by the talented Orlando Fox; great artist though she's stopped posting FNAF artwork awhile ago due to other people making claims to her work. I won't link to her tumblr account as I'm not sure if FFNet allows outgoing links, but you can definitely google her.

PART I

Do You Remember

Chapter I

When We Celebrated

David's attention darted from page to page, taking in the crayon images and trying to interpret crude details his eyes could barely make out. Was that a spoon or a hook attached to Foxy's wrist? He smiled as he continued to flip the brown pages to see the older entries of their collective scrapbook. He was glad he thought about starting one for all of them early in his tenure as night watchman here at Freddy's.

He closed the scrapbook he was looking through, noticing that the strings on the spine had started to fray. He will have to replace that soon, but not tonight. Tonight he had a special appointment, and it was just about time for him to come out.

David stood, rolled up the sleeves of his uniform, and pushed his chair to the back of the room, just in front of the filing cabinets of different shapes and sizes that lined the back wall. He knelt down and switched the latches at the chair's wheels to lock it in place. With the scrapbook in hand, he used the chair to get on top of the four-foot metal cabinet. From there he reached up at the upper right corner of the air vent cover where a single bolt kept it in place. He unscrewed it with one hand and removed the cover which came off easily after he pulled at it from the side. David then placed the scrapbook in the cavity on top of another scrapbook, this one was much older and its white pages were now an aged yellow. He pushed the books just far enough so that they cannot be seen from any standing position inside the office but still be reachable when he needed to retrieve them. He replaced the cover, holding it up with his left as he screwed the bolt back with his right hand.

He jumped down, angling his shoes to make the least noise possible. He didn't trust the chair as much this time, having had the locks on it suddenly let go a number of times during previous dismounts. He freed the latches and rolled the chair back onto the desk, putting away the clutter on the table – two walkmans, a flashlight and some batteries – into a corner by the fan. David rolled his sleeves back down and retrieved his jacket from the hook behind the east door. It was about two sizes too large for him, judging by how the sleeves went past his wrists and the jacket's shoulders didn't fit into his own. He checked the running timestamp number on the monitors for the cameras outside – the only ones working since Freddy disabled the ones for inside cameras:

19870620040724. A little late for four-o-clock, but they wouldn't mind.

He didn't actually know what the animatronics had in store for him. When Chica caught him and won yesterday, she asked for today's game to be cut short and for him to, afterwards, lock himself in the office until 4AM when 'they were ready'.

He turned the knob, opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Strangely, the lights were on but seemed to be much dimmer than usual. Since they were all evenly lit, he figured it was the animatronics' work and not an issue he should point out to maintenance later when his shift ended. At the far end of the hallway he saw Freddy standing behind the wooden emcee's podium they usually kept backstage. Beside him, blocking access to the party room, were two queue poles connected by a red-purple striped rope. Freddy was reading from a book, turning its pages back and forth every so often. As David came closer, he knocked on the side walls to let him know he was here. Freddy, strangely, paid him no attention. At least, not until he was right in front of the podium.

When the night guard reached the end of the hallway the animatronic made a sound of clearing his throat. In the dullest voice David had ever heard from him, Freddy spoke, "Do you have a reservation?"

"I-… Yes, I do." David was not quite sure how to respond. What on earth was going on?

"I will show you to your seat." After having traced his finger from the top of the page to the middle, Freddy closed what David figured was the 'reservation list'. In the dim light David glimpsed and recognized it as actually one of the cookbooks from the kitchen. He stifled a laugh which ended up somewhere between a snort and a soft cough. Freddy raised an eyebrow as his only reaction before he unhooked the striped rope and motioned for him to come through. David obliged and waited for Freddy to replace the rope after he had passed. Freddy led the way into the party room. "Follow me please."

The party room was barely what David remembered of it. Instead of energetic red and blue, the floor was tiled with a subdued light and dark yellow. The long tables and chairs had gone missing, and in the center of the room was a single square table with a frilled white tablecloth and a high backed chair that faced away from the stage. The stage itself was closed off with a white curtain instead of the usual purple. Everything seemed to have changed, except for the plaster grey walls. They had basically turned the pizzeria into a restaurant. David marveled at what they had done with the place as he followed Freddy to the chair. Freddy pulled it out for him. "Please, take a seat. Your waiter will be with you shortly."

"Please do turn off pagers and keep noises to a minimum, so as not to disrupt our other guests." Freddy said sternly, laying down rules as David sat down and he pushed the seat forward. There were, of course, no other guests. He didn't know whether Freddy was just taking the maitre d' persona seriously, or trying to get him to laugh. David figured there might be 'consequences' to breaking the rule he was just told and decided to follow without complaint for now. Without breaking character, Freddy finished. "Oh, and if you can, please do keep your poop to yourself and off our floors."

"Y- yes, of course. Thank you." David had to bite his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter at that last turn of phrase. Freddy walked back to his podium without another word, but David could've sworn he saw a very satisfied smile on the bear's face as he turned away from him. So this was how it's going to be. Well, two can play this game. David squared his shoulders, sat with his back flat on the backboard of his chair, turned his nose up as high as it would go, folded his hands neatly in front of him, and made a face between a frown and a sneer. It was inevitable, after all, that a new restaurant get a stuck-up critic on its first night.

"Good evening. I'm Bonnie, and I will be your waiter this evening." A second animatronic came out to greet him. Bonnie offered him the pizzeria menu.

"Mm, thank you." David took the menu off Bonnie's hands and opened it, looking over his upturned nose. There have been many changes, additions and revisions to the official menu since he'd started working here but this was, by far, the best one yet. Each and every item had been crossed out in crayon with a 'not available' scrawled on the side, all except the house special at the very end – the Freddy's Favorite pizza.

David mischievously didn't feel like playing along. He closed the menu and handed it back to the waiter, who had been standing silently at the side. He cleared his throat. "It's chilly tonight. I think I'll have the soup of the day."

"Erm… pardon?" Bonnie blinked.

"Mmyes, a nice warm soup would be perfect." David reiterated.

"But… pizza?" Bonnie fidgeted. They obviously haven't planned for him to ask for something off-menu.

"I am writing a critique of your establishment, and I want the best soup you have to offer." David said in a false foreign accent and feigned disdain. "You'd get terrible reviews otherwise, you know."

"I- um, excuse me a moment." Bonnie quickly walked off and disappeared behind the kitchen doors. David glanced at Freddy still at his podium who was now flipping pages on his book and showed no distress.

From the kitchen, David could hear three voices talking and from time-to-time he would see Bonnie, Chica and Foxy take turns peeking through the small circular glass windows on the door. He maintained his stiff posture, rapping his fingers on the table to indicate impatience. The noise died down and it was quiet for a good two minutes before Bonnie came back out onto the dining room floor with a silver tray held up where David could not see what was in it. Bonnie looked much more confident now. "Sorry about that, your soup will be ready in a short while."

"Mm, thank you."

"Excuse me." Bonnie lowered the tray and David removed his hands from the table and laid them primly on his lap. One by one, Bonnie placed the items on the tray onto the table: a small vase with some fake flowers, a plate, an folded ornate napkin, a fancy wineglass, and more shiny spoons, forks and knives than David would ever need for soup. After he had finished laying everything down and making sure everything was perfectly aligned, Bonnie held the now empty tray flat on his chest and smiled proudly. Although David had no idea whether the arrangement in front of him was really how fancy dining should look like, he couldn't help but be impressed at the attention to detail and could barely keep his false composure. Bonnie had certainly done his homework.

"Tsk tsk." David faked disappointment and took the biggest spoon to his right and placed it on the left, bringing down the head end first and then making sure the handle knocked on the table as he flicked it down for emphasis. He then looked challengingly at Bonnie, who seemed to be taken aback. Bonnie looked at the arrangement for a moment before reaching and putting the spoon back to its correct place.

"Mm, no no no." David shooed Bonnie's hand away and, still maintaining his character's mannerisms, took multiple forks and spoons one by one and shuffled them around, switching places between them until everything was a jumbled, yet somehow still regal and fancy looking, mess of what it was before. David then struck a thinking pose while holding the big spoon again, bringing his left hand to his chin while his right went on either side of the plate trying to figure where it should go. To his side he could see Bonnie starting to crack a smile. With a final 'Aah,' David reached out and placed the spoon neatly in the vase among the flowers. The ridiculousness of it caused loud laughter from his waiter. Bonnie quickly stopped and brought his free hand over his mouth, his eyes darted toward Freddy in alarm. David followed his gaze just fast enough to see Freddy clearing his throat and turning away to stare intensely at his 'guest list' again.

"I'm sorry Bonnie, I got carried away." David chuckled softly and looked back at Bonnie. He was having fun, but it was time to drop the act before things got too convoluted. He would have kept it up much longer if Foxy was the waiter, but sweet Bonnie didn't deserve this much teasing. "You're doing a good job."

"Thank you." Bonnie smiled. "Would Night Bird like something to drink?"

"Ah yes, just water and maybe orange juice if you have it." David realized he was indeed thirsty. As Bonnie walked back into the kitchen, he rearranged the cutlery on his table. He couldn't remember exactly how everything was placed, so he simply arranged them by size with the big ones nearest the plate. Spoons, except the one in the vase which he left there, were placed on the right, forks on the left, and knives at the side of the plate away from him.

David recalled how he came to be called 'Night Bird'. Names, apart for each other's and their own, were generally not part of the animatronics' available vocabulary; even birthday kids get an 'insert name here' dialogue with the animatronics at most where old names are replaced with new when necessary. David would have settled on being called 'night guard' but, strangely enough, Bonnie didn't have the word 'guard' and the closest he had by sound was 'bird'. At some point the rest of the animatronics, not just Bonnie, began calling him Night Bird as his name and not a title. Even when Bonnie finally had a dialogue update some time ago and gained 'guard' as part of his vocabulary, they continued to call him Night Bird. David didn't mind, and actually thought it was pretty nifty.

His thoughts were interrupted by Bonnie coming back from the kitchen, with two metal pitchers on the tray he carried. David worried a little that balance might be difficult and had to stop himself from getting up and offering to help. Thankfully Bonnie didn't need it and filled his regular glass with water and the fancy wine glass with orange juice with one hand without trouble. David noticed that Bonnie had to tilt the pitchers almost all the way through when pouring; near empty pitchers would definitely have made balancing easier. He thanked Bonnie as the animatronic left for the kitchen once again.

He took the glass of water and sipped lightly, just enough to wet his dry throat for now. He looked around the room, quietly wondering where they managed to hide the long tables and the many chairs. The chairs could stack, at least, to take less space. Perhaps they were put away into the other corridor opposite where Freddy was. It was covered in white blanket for now, and David couldn't see whether or not he was right. Or maybe the show stage? He turned to a side in his chair and took a bigger sip from the cool glass of water and swallowed. It looked so massive with the white curtains that covered it. He remembered two renovations ago that it was so small that Freddy barely had room to swing around without hitting Bonnie's guitar. Shortly after he started working, management had made improvements to expand the stage and give Foxy his own side room instead of coming up in rotation with the others. It meant more work for all of them, but the animatronics told him they didn't mind. They actually liked the changes and so did the children.

David had downed about half of the glass of water when he heard a familiar sound of squeaky wheels. He turned just in time to see Bonnie push the service cart out of the kitchen doors. On it was an empty porcelain bowl and a big stainless steel pot. Bonnie wheeled it over to his table. David replaced his glass of water and watched as Bonnie opened the pot lid. Steam lazily escaped from inside and a wonderful aroma filled the room. Bonnie took the ladle from a hidden drawer on the cart and dipped it into the pot, stirring twice before bringing it back up and transferring the contents onto the empty bowl. He did this three more times until the bowl was about full. He placed the ladle on a side, closed the lid and, with both hands, brought the porcelain bowl around and placed it on top of the plate. Bonnie announced simply. "Chica soup."

David inched his seat closer to the table and plucked the spoon he had left in the vase earlier. He had cooked things in the kitchen with Chica before, but she had never done so without him until now. David would do the actual cooking; usually just following her instruction and putting in things she brought him. The better ones that came out he even tried at home when he cooked for the family; there would never be leftovers, but the boys would often comment on how strange it looked.

And this one looked very strange indeed. If this was a chicken soup variation, then it certainly didn't look much like ones he was familiar with; were no noodles to be found. David swirled the broth, looking to see what ingredients he could recognize; he found chicken shreds, carrots, and lots of small dark green leaves he couldn't identify. Oh, and an entire quarter of a cabbage sitting at the bottom of the bowl, lovely. Bonnie likely insisted on not chopping it up further.

He scooped the broth and raised it to his mouth. It tasted both new and familiar. It was mild and comforting as would be expected from chicken soup, yet as he swallowed a warm sensation rose up his throat and came out through his nostrils. He'd always thought the folk remedy of chicken soup to cure colds was rubbish, but this was something else. He had a bit of sniffles the week prior and instantly felt the passages clear up. He took bigger scoops, only now noticing that the soup itself was served warm, not too hot. It was just… perfect. Chica had done exceptionally well.

He finished the bowl faster than he realized and sank back into the chair contentedly. Bonnie smiled at him and offered. "Room for dessert?"

"No… goodness no I'm full. That was great. Whooh." He exhaled, the warmth refused to leave his chest. He had to commend the cooks in person. "Can you get the chef please? Chica and Foxy, I mean."

"Okay." Bonnie replied as he set for the kitchen a final time. David rested his head against the chair's back and stretched his legs, feeling the joints at his feet crackle as bent them forwards and back.

The doors to the kitchen swung and Bonnie came out followed closely by Chica. The latter walked skittishly, her hands hidden fidgeting behind her back. Was she worried why David called for her? Bonnie probably hasn't told her he liked the soup. Last to come out was Foxy, who stayed by the doors, standing straight with his right hand behind him and his left on his side. He looked quite formal in his full regalia of gold-embroidered black. The rowdy pirate captain was behaving, a miracle in and of itself.

"I liked the soup." David cheerfully opened to get Chica to calm down. She stood across the table from him, and Bonnie went behind his chair where he couldn't see.

"You did?" He saw in her face the beginning of a smile when she replied.

"Yes I did. No lie." David reassured her. "But I do want to know what you put in it."

"Oh," Chica's shoulders loosened up, though she still kept her hands at her back. Her eyes darted here and there, looking at everything except him. "Little onion and garlic to start, the chicken, then carrots and cabbage…"

"And the green leaves?" David asked.

"Chili leaves."

"Ah, I see." He never would have figured it out on his own; the soup didn't taste spicy at all though he wondered if it could be pulled off with chili powder instead.

"Mm-hm." Chica nodded and looked him straight in the eye as she smiled. "And a special ingredient."

"Oh?" David smirked. "What is it?"

Chica opened her mouth to speak but said nothing at the moment. She took a step forward and leaned in, as if about to tell a secret. David sat at the edge of his seat.

"This!" There was abrupt movement as Chica's eyes opened into a murderous glare. She suddenly raised her right arm and slammed it down hard on the table. Her wrist was cut off and ended in a large menacing metal hook. The utensils on the table bounced and David involuntarily jumped backwards where he was sitting.

Did she have an accident in the kitchen? Did she hurt herself? How was he going to fix this? Was there even enough time to do that? What would he tell the floor manager at the end of his shift? A dozen more questions zipped through David's mind as it tried to process what exactly just happened.

After a few tense seconds, David noticed boisterous laughter. It sounded half like barking. He turned to his left and saw Foxy cackling like a madman. His right hand was a curious yellow that clashed with the red of the rest of his fur. There was a flash of light somewhere from David's right, and he turned to see Freddy with a big grin holding the Polaroid camera which was now printing out the shot he had just taken. He felt Bonnie's hands holding his shoulders. The bunny caught him just in time to avoid him tripping and falling backwards when he jumped out of his seat. He looked at Chica's hand on the table once more and, this time, recognized the hooked hand and who it belonged to.

He turned to Foxy again, who was now leaning back into the wall with a smug smile on his face. Holding up his right hand, Chica's right hand, the triumphant pirate twirled the fingers in a dainty wave and his eyepatch rapidly clicked open and close repeatedly to simulate winking. He spoke with a musical tinge in his voice. "We got ye good, lad!~"

As the rest of the animatronics erupted in laughter and Bonnie let go of him, David found himself laughing as well. They switched hands, and Chica's delivery of the scare was flawless.

"Well someone got their quota of spooks for today." David commended them for their coordination. Chica gave a small bow for her performance as Freddy took a few more photos; they were definitely going to want to put this into the scrapbook later. He motioned for Freddy and Foxy to come forward. The two obliged and walked up to the table.

"I've already told you guys I won't be here next week, right?" David said.

"You did, Night Bird." Bonnie confirmed from behind him.

"We be gettin' a substitute while ye'r afield lad?" Foxy asked.

"Actually no. I know you guys don't really like the other guards watching over you so I talked with management and convinced them you didn't need the babysitting." David smiled. "So for next week you get the night all to yourselves."

"Aye, good news all 'round!" The animatronics all cheered and smiled at each other.

"But you need to follow our rules, okay?" David warned concernedly. "The ones for when I'm not here."

"Free roam, have fun, put everything back before 6." Freddy listed. "Go onstage, stay there and do nothing if someone comes."

"Right." The night guard said. "If anyone comes through those doors, I don't want you guys drawing attention to yourselves."

"Let them do what they want. Take what they want." Freddy nodded. "Unless they come for us."

"Yes." David said. "And if anyone comes to take you away or hurt you, I want you to resist as much as you can. And make sure you get all their faces recorded by the cameras."

"Instructions set, Night Bird." Freddy said, indicating the end of the set of rules. David felt a measure of relief. He wanted them to have their freedom, and pushed his worries to the back of his mind. No notable incidents ever happened at the pizzeria at night, but it couldn't hurt to stay on the safe side. He could always count on Freddy to get the others to fall in line when needed.

"Night Bird will come back after next week, right?" Chica's eyes darted away initially when he turned to look at her.

"Yes of course, Chica." David said reassuringly. At that, Chica crossed the table on Foxy's side and take hold of him on either side of his torso. She then hoisted him up and placed him standing squarely on the chair that was behind him. She was now about chest height to him.

"Hey, what? Oh-" He felt Chica's beak awkwardly poke him just above the stomach and the knuckle of her hooked hand against his back as she hugged him. She turned her head to a side to get at the task better. They were going to miss him terribly. "It'll only be a little while. I'll be back before you know it."

He noticed movement and saw the other animatronics come toward them. One by one they piled up around him, Bonnie Freddy and Foxy, boxing him in tight where he stood. Chica called him. "Night Bird."

"Yes Chica?" He stroked the back of her head.

"We love you." She said.

"I love all of you too." He teared up a little. He didn't know how long they held on like little children, but he really didn't care. He loved them and they loved him back.

"Night Bird." He felt her hold on him tighten as she called his name a second time.

"Yes, what is it Chica?" David asked again.

She spoke for all of them. "Happy birthday."

#

I generally like how this chapter came out, though the pacing is a little too slow or too fast at times. Comedy is something I need to work on as well; the supposedly funny parts are a little awkward to write. I'm not so good with the funnies.

As an opener, this chapter is geared toward introducing the characters (or at least, my characterization of them) and I think I managed that just fine. Bonnie is the all-around nice guy, Chica is awkward and clingy, Foxy is the mischievous prankster of the bunch, and Freddy is the ruleskeeper. David, called Night Bird from here on out by the animatronics, has been a night guard for a few years at this point and treats them like friends. Or perhaps like his own children.

If you like the chapter, please do consider leaving a review. If not, but you care enough to point out where I could improve, also consider leaving a review. If you know of a FNAF forum (preferably with a writers/artist/creative section), I'd appreciate if you can link me to it through the review or in a PM. I'm looking for a community to bounce my ideas with.

Barring internet troubles or my computer AND backup exploding at the same time, next chapter will come next week.