"You look like a damn train wreck"

Jeremy frowned, subconsciously brushing his bangs closer to the center of his face. His hair was as messy as the rest of his appearance, choppy ends and ruffled strands sticking out in directions that Mike didn't believe was scientifically possible. It still held its lovely shade of honey brown, but the shine of it was lost when ice eyes narrowed, gaze seeping past the nightwatch's shield to rest angrily on the darkening bluish hue of the skin. "The fuck happened to you?"

He receives some sort of half-hearted shrug a few seconds after, the brunette taking a moments to shield his face, giving him time to think of an excuse. His lips part slightly as if to give a vocal response, but shuts soon after. Jeremy had no explanation for this.

That, or he just didn't want to share it, Mike sneers to himself."Fine, don't answer then." The snark comes out a bit more hostile than he intended, but the flash of guilt that flew across the younger male's features implies that he more than well got his point across.

The nightwatch blinks, emerald eyes darting to the right. He was hiding something, and it wasn't just the obvious either. Not that his bangs covered much of his eye, anyhow. He remained quiet, silently unzipping his backpack and restocking his work locker with the usual's. Nothing important, just a spare t-shirt and pack of shoelaces should his work uniform get torn sometime during a night shift or he clumsily spills something on himself again.

There have been close calls with the animatronics that neither of them would like to remember, but Mike has a certain tie with it's length sliced off at a quarter inch from the knot, a gentle reminder that he had come uncomfortably close to decapitation one grave evening.

He frowns at the memory, unlocking and grumpily swinging open his own locker, eyeing the fabric stuffed unceremoniously in the corner of it. Both of them have abstained injuries from unfortunate encounters with the animals, Mike mostly, since it's clear that anything intending to harm the younger nightwatch would have to go though the seething security guard first. That, and the eternal grudge the man had against the furry robots, a certain hooked hand individual especially.

Mike glances behinds his shoulder, the other male to busy finishing up his stock to be aware of the other man sizing him up, mainly, the swollen skin on his upper cheek. Mike's been in enough fights to know just how hard someone has to punch to cause a black eye of that severity. Mostly because he's the one who's gave them.

As if the indirect injury wasn't enough, the fact that the kid refused to tell him how it came to be irritated him even further.Normally, sympathy and concern were the usual reactions to things like this, he's gotten plenty when he didn't wanted. But there's a sour taste in his mouth and his fingers are twitching, not something the body does naturally when concern is felt.

Mike has to inwardly remind himself that he should not be directing his rising frustration towards the wrong person.

"Have you at least treated it?" He breaks the silence,removing his gaze before Jeremy could turn and spot it. "Put alcohol and peroxide on it, I mean. You can't let it fester."

His expression remains stoic as the younger male shuffles his feet nervously. For what seems like like an eternity, Jeremy finally gives some sort of response. He shakes his head, simple and doesn't imply much, but an answer none the less.

An answer that makes Mike grit his teeth. "Sit down"

There's so much authority in his tone that Jeremy hesitates protesting, uncertainty across his face when Mike takes a step forward. He reached out in a singular swift movement and slams Jeremy's locker with a bang, sending shudders down the nightwatch spine. He's angry with him, as if the bruise wasn't bad enough.

Surprisingly, however, Mike's grip on the handle loosens, his tan hand sliding off the metal and an apologetic look following his once stern expression.

Jeremy swallows, watching the older man take on a more eased stance,using up willing effort in the process, "Just sit on the bench,please."

He has his back turned towards the nightwatch by the time Jeremy settled himself on the end of the seat, guilty eyes glued to the floor. Without glancing up, the younger male heard the shower room door open and close, and a figure paused in front of him. Mike's shadow shifted from in front of him, to behind him and back again,like a predator would circle it's prey. Though, when he hears a conflicted sigh as the man sits besides him, his intentions may be different.

"Is it just your eye? Or are there other things I need to know about to?" Mike huffs, working to uncap the peroxide, rolling up a cotton ball and soaking it in liquid.

To his semi-relief, Jeremy gave a verbal answer. "I'm fine. I'm not hiding anything."

Low lidded eyes roll up from working hands, unimpressed. "Did you know your voice gets higher when you lie?"

"You're making that up."

"Lift up your shirt and prove me wrong, then."

A thin line formed over Jeremy's mouth, emerald eyes darting to avoid direct contact. Mike watches him twiddles his thumbs with delicate interest, scanning over the younger male's body language. Jeremy was as easy to read as braille inscribed in jello. Needless to say, the observation didn't provide much clarity.

He'll find a way to wheeze it out of him later. He had other methods. "Push your hair back."

The moment of hesitation lasted so long, he was ready to pin it back himself when Jeremy's slender hand rose, fingers gently gliding over his forehead and sliding upwards, moving his bangs away from his brows.

The black eye was a lot nastier in unobstructed view, the swollen skin stretching to from just under the lower lashes to the mid-high of his cheek, a red-rim circling around green making the bruise seem even darker in contrast. It sent a sickening feeling spiraling in Mike's stomach. How ever this happened, it was a purposeful strike. No one gets a injury like this from an accident.

Jeremy grew impatient. "...Are we d-done?"

"No, hold still."

Bracing himself for contact, the brunette hisses when cold, wet cotton touches the outer section of his eye, flinching away momentarily."Y-You could have given me a warning!"

"I did." Mike retorted, scooting closer to the escapee. "It's gonna sting. Get over it. Now don't move, or I might make it worse."

How exactly, he didn't voice. Yet, an uneasy feeling still vibrated through Jeremy's chest, goosebumps trailing over his arms as the heated sensation returned to his face. Naturally, he bites his tongue,regretting the sharp pain his teeth determine near after. It's nowhere compared to the burning tingle of his eye right now, however.

The peroxide leaves little white residue on his skin, tiny bubbles forming and dissipating where Mike assumed there were tiny slivers of cuts too small for them to see. Skin is very delicate, he realizes,and it doesn't take much for it to put up a reaction.

The darkening blush on Jeremy's face vouched for this. "It hurts."

"I'm sure it does."

The frown he receives is expected. "I can do this by myself.

"Then you should have done it already" Mike mummers, using his other hand to place his thumb tenderly on the nightwatch's cheek. Ignoring the tiny hiss directed towards him, he brushes down ever so slightly,stretching the skin just enough to dab another dose of peroxide on it. "This looks older than a day. You should have taken care of it already."

"But I cleaned it."

"Clean?Or disinfected?" The older man sneered, moving to dab the upper eye lid. He runs his finger over Jeremy's eye in a soft motion,careful and gentle to not irritate the bruise further. "Throwing water on it won't do jack shit. You need to use actual disinfectant or it's at risk of getting worse. Hell, a baby wipe would have done the trick..."

Jeremy's eyelashes brush against his hand like butterfly wings closing. "How would you know? When did you become some sort of expert on first-aid?"

The feeble obliviousness in his tone is so evident that Mike has to effortlessly resist the urge to roll his eyes. Finishing up his work,he curls the cotton up between his fingers and tosses to the garbage can in the corner. It bounces off the wall, dropping into the bin just as he re-caps the peroxide bottle.

Regardless of he momentarily silence, he still delivers an answer. "You forget who you're talking to, Jere" To emphasis, he tips his security cap."I've been in fights, too."

Jeremy lets his bangs drop, guilty gaze glued to the floor. "I know that.You don't have to n-nag me about it."

"I know, that's usually your job."

Mike ignores the fuzzy feeling rising in his skin when a flash of a smile speeds across the younger male's features. "Then let me the worry-wart, ok?" Jeremy reassures, giving a soft smile. The older guard finds it very strange how the entire room seemed to light up at the notion. "You have too much on y-your plate already."

Mike snorts in disagreement. "Yeah, I got tons of shit on my tray,but I can't have a go with anything else if you're the main meal."

Three seconds pass and Jeremy breaks out into a fit of laughter, Mike's form going pale at the realization on his mistake. "That sounded straighter in my head."

"Sure it did."

"Shut your mouth. You know exactly what I meant."

---

A week passes and the bruise fades away, quicker than any black eye Mike himself ever managed to gain. Though, with his experience,Jeremy was fast to heal. His mother must have pampered at home as well, seeing as he shows up to their usual hangout looking as peachy as one dork could get.

Mike checks his watch for what feels like the thousandth time that hour,glaring down dully at the golden hands ticking behind its comfortable glassing when the sound of a door opening steals his attention.Craning his neck around, he catching one glimpse of a familiar plaid jacket and silver set of earrings before a grin etched its way onto his face. "You're late"

Fritz returned a rival smirk. "Bullshit. Show time doesn't start for another two hours. You're just too damn early."

"You asked me to help with setup, right? Don't complain."

"Nah,I don't need to. Jeremy's got that covered."

The both of them nodded in mutual agreement, the name mentioned obviously fitting the bill."Speaking of the nag..." Fritz pondered out loud, taking a wide glance around the restaurant. "Where is Jeremy anyway? I thought he usually stuck to you like glue."

The question goes unanswered, Mike's brows furrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Fritz shrugged. "It means he's not here-"

"I'm behind you guys, actually..."

Both men froze, blinking to one another before sharply turning to their right. The nightwatch gave a timid smile, readjusting his grip on his book bag before giving a small wave, just to lighten the tension. "Sorry for being late...got a little c-caught up with some stuff..."

Despite the crack in the younger male's voice, Fritz laughed. "You ain't late. All the other band members aren't even here yet." He assured, gesturing towards the semi-empty room for show. Only the old janitor and podium booth attender stood present, each too busy in their own affairs to interfere with the three strangers collected near the door.

"Place aint as well known as Fazbear's, but I hear they get a pretty good crowd every other night or so. Stage is a good level upwards, gonna be a bitch to drag the drum set up there. It's not as easy to move as a guitar, ya know?"

In the midst of Fritz's rambling, Jeremy allowed a giggle to escape him. "Sounds tough" He jokes, "What do you w-want us to help with, exactly?"

Grinning at the offer, the temp worker pulled out his phone,glanced at the time and stuffed it back in his pocket, giving a thoughtful whistle. "Mike and I can take care of the heavy stuff,like, stereos and shit. You think you can help with the banner?"

The brunette nodded. "I can do that!"

"Thanks, I owe you guys"

Still standing stoic to Fritz's right, Mike voiced a snark."Great, you're buying our food then." He snickered, watching with amusement as amber eyes flashed with annoyance. "Seriously? This gig ain't paying us enough as it is."

Mike scoffed, entertained. "Learn to take a joke. It's Jeremy's turn to pay, anyway."

"Hey!"

The nightwatch's protest was ignored, both men dwelling on their own laughter. Fritz's estranged sniggering in particular. "That's gold, Schmidt. Bet Jeremy's brimmed like a bank, ain't he?"

"I'm standing right here!"

"Oh, we know. We haven't forgotten." The security guard counters, listening to the temp worker's laughter pleasantly dying in the background. "Shouldn't you be coloring a banner right about now? Or did you run all out of crayons?"

Once again, Fritz had to stop himself from snorting. Jeremy simply huffed, his lips sticking out in a pout. "You're both bullies"

Mike mocked his pout. "The best of them."

The nightwatch rolled his eyes, resisting the playful tug that the corner of his mouth urged. Fritz, on the other hand, caught sight of the twitch and rose a brow, sending a friendly wink in his direction."We're joshing with ya, Jere"

The brunette wrinkled his nose. "I know that..." His sentence trailed off, emerald eyes darting over the older man's shoulder and off into the back of the restaurant There, standing observant towards the trio was a sharply dressed woman, sending an equally sharp glare towards a certain temp worker.

Ice and amber eyes followed green's gaze until they themselves found the woman, and Mike could practically feel the irritation radiating in Fritz groan. "Listen, guys, I gotta take this. Owner's been haggling me for the past week and I can't afford to get us canceled the night of the show." His tone turned guilty. "Do me a solid and take care of the equipment for me?"

Jeremy nodded, Mike responding with a mere shrug. "Whatever, do whatcha need to do."

Fritz smiled, a thankful nod as his response as he backed away,With a wave of dismissal , he was out of hearing range and grudgingly making his way to the owner, leaving the security guard and his gluey companion alone by the door.

"...I'm going to go work on the banner" Jeremy voiced,shrugging off his backpack and dropping to the side, right near the coat hanger. Hopefully, it blended in well enough no one would touch it. "Let me know if you need help setting up the set, o-ok?"

As if the offer offended his masculinity, Mike fakes a frown."Sure, whatever. Go draw on your over-sized coloring book, I'll call ya if I need ya."

Ignoring Mike's rude remarks had become second nature to Jeremy,so it wasn't surprising when the brunette simply nodded and spun on his heal, walking in the opposite direction-

Mike froze, eyes narrowing at the nightwatch's retreating figure. Jeremy wasn't walking, he was limping.

It's a slight, different change of pace in his footstep, the way his ankle dragged ever so slightly in his movement that it was hardly noticeable, but unable to unsee once you catch it. He wonders how he didn't catch it earlier, debating within himself before remember that Jeremy's arrival had been unannounced, and neither him nor Fritz had the sense to fully scope the teen anyhow.

This made his blood hot. Only by a little, he tells himself.

Out of all the nagging Jeremy will do, he never complains for himself. Either he was purposely making it difficult to trust him further, or whatever he had to hide was more important than Mike had thought.

Watching the nightwatch break his stride and detour into the men's restrooms, Mike silently wishes he had pried a bit more the week before. Maybe if he had then, he wouldn't be tracking the brunette in concerned curiosity now.

Jeremy's washing his hands when the restroom door swings open, and a familiar figure strides through. "...Hey, Jeremy"

Green eyes blinks, turning upwards to stare baffled at the security guard. "M-Mike? I thought you were setting up stage-?"

"Why were you limping?"

The question is carried in a sharp, stern tone that the younger male can't object. Instead, he suddenly finds himself very self-conscious, as expected, shuffling his right ankle just behind his left in a naturally defensive stance. Not like he thought Mike was going to advance or anything like that, but simply because it gave off a more 'stable' demeanor, for lack of a better phrase.

"L-limping?" He repeated, a nervous chuckle underlying his voice. "I wasn't limping, silly! There was just something stuck inside my shoe." The lie sounds convincing enough, at least to him.But the security guard's expression doesn't change from it's neutral suspicious, and Jeremy feels a bit more vulnerable every time those blue eyes of his glance down to his defective lower half.

He makes the mistake of trying to take a step backward. Mid-move,he shifts his weight wrong and an arch of pain shoots up from his ankle to his hip. Reflexively, he winces. Mike, catches sight immediately.

Surprisingly, instead of some sort of confrontation, Mike lets out a deep, highly frustrated sigh. Making sure he had the nightwatch's attention, he tilts his head towards the sinks. "Get on the counter."

This time, Jeremy just looks to the ground in defeat, using his hands to hoist himself upwards until his feet dangled above the tile.Funny, how easy it was to hide things, emotional wise or physical.That is, until Mike came into the picture, and Jeremy didn't quite know how to deal with a man who could spot a nick of a cut a mile away.

It was like he was some sort of blood hound. Or just really persistent.

"When did this happen?"

Jeremy snapped back to attention, too lost in his inner musings to sense the new coming figure approaching him with focused ease. Mike stands close, a bit too close, if one were to know. While his hands are dug deep into his hoodie pockets, there's still a looming threat in the way he holds his shoulders broad and chin high, a hint of a sneer still evident on his face.

Jeremy swallows and Mike repeats himself. "When did it happen?"

His response it a half-hearted shrug. "I don't really remember.It's n-not important. It doesn't even hurt."

Unconvinced as always, the guard takes out a hand and places it on Jeremy's knee, raising a brow. "That..." He trails off, fingers trailing down the leg until it tapped the inside of the ankle, eyeing how the nightwatch flinched at the contact. "...doesn't really hurt, does it?"

Jeremy's mouth thins into line and he swats the older man's hand away, embarrassment rising on his features. Damn, it was almost as if it was Mike's sole goal to get him flustered, from sensation or not,this was ridiculous.

"I'm fine" He tried to reassure. Yet, his statement went ignored.

"Roll up your pants leg real quick."

Now it was Jeremy's turn to look suspicious, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing, subconsciously attempting to scoot away from the security guard. "...W-why? There's nothing to see."

"Then you've got nothing to hide."

Before he could bat him away, Mike's fingers curl around the end of his jeans and roll the fabric upwards, eyes widening for a split second before his pupils narrow, a look of what Jeremy hopes not tobe anger flooding his features.