Mike Schmidt was proving to be the worst roommate Jeremy could imagine.

Though, you can't say the nightwatch isn't at fault either.

The first week was hectic; arguments over who was sleeping where, rearranging furniture, laundry and trash belonging to Mike that Jeremy would eventually have to clean up. Even something as insignificant as 'who drank the last of the lemonade' could start a bickering fest.

Jeremy would usually win, but truly Mike would let him. His pride didn't appreciate it, but sting in his ego couldn't compare to the sickening feeling he felt in the pit of his chest when the nightwatch stood in the doorway one rainy evening, screaming one last comeback before marching off into the night.

As you'd expect, Mike went after him.

About an hour and a few well rehearsed apologies later, they're both back inside the apartment, Jeremy giggling as he throws blankets over a grumpy, wet security guard. Maybe bolting off without an umbrella wasn't the best of plans.

Most of their arguments ended along those lines. Jeremy would steal Mike's beanie, or maybe Mike would ruffle Jeremy's hair just for the sake of getting the final word in. Not to mention it wasn't so bad getting to see the nightwatch get a little riled up.

The landlord knocked on their front door a few times, yelling something about disturbing the neighbors and threats of eviction. Surprising enough, Mike brushed him off. Jeremy wondered as to how he could treat the landlord so harmlessly and as to why no one's actually called the cops on them yet.

Then he remembers that strange day with him escorting the drunken security guard from the city jail home and sighs. Mike wasn't much of a talker, mostly, but people around got an impression, that's for sure.

One impression Jeremy seemed to get from Mike is that the man didn't much care for manners.

The amount of awkward moments they've had in the timespan of a single week is enough to both make Jeremy inwardly cringe and giggle. Sure, they both knew better to shut the bathroom door and lock it, an unspoken respect for each other's privacy. Yet, if the bathroom isn't in exclusive use, Mike is a bit pushy.

Jeremy thinks back to one morning, standing in front of the mirror with a toothbrush in his mouth. His hair is ruffled from his awaking and the comb on the counter holds no promise to save it. It keeps falling over his eyes, and it takes him holding the toothbrush between his teeth to brush it out of his face, only to fall back again.

He's halfway through a sigh of frustration when a reflection in the mirror appears behind him. "You're feisty this morning, aren't you?"

Jeremy rolls his eyes. "Goo' mornin' to you too..." He mumbled. Mike frowned, glaring down to the nightwatch's mouth and the paste to the sides of it. "Don't speak with your mouth full"

If he could stick out his tongue, he would have, but Jeremy had to settle for a half hearted glare instead. Shrugging, he returns to his brushing, tilting his head back in the mirror and baring his teeth.

He chokes when something presses his side, forcing him to side step from his spot. "Move over"

Mike picks up a blue toothbrush, spurted paste on it and stuck it in his mouth, ignoring the displeased glare his rookie was giving him. "That was rude, Mike!" The teen pouted, his disapproval deepening when the guard simply shrugged.

Jeremy tried to shuffle his way back into the spot, but alas, he only managed to wiggle into Mike's side. The bathroom was much too small of a space for two people to stand in front of the mirror comfortably.

And Mike, being the usual dickwad he was, had no intention on sharing. "I was in front of the m-mirror first!" Jeremy protested, giving a pout. "Stop being mean."

Half lidded eyes rolled over to stare at the nightwatch, Mike hardly giving the teen any thought. "So?" He spins the toothbrush in his hands, spitting in the sink. "This is my apartment."

"Our apartment" Jeremy corrected.

"Whatever. You take too long anyway."

He watches the older man flick the toothbrush back into it's cup holder, rinsing his mouth,gargle and spit again. Sighing, Jeremy crossed his arms, waiting for the man to take a step back and leave the room so he may the mirror all to himself again. The mint on his tongue was getting a little bit dull tasting, to be honest.

Yet, much to his dismay, Mike ran the water and splashed his face, opening a drawer and picked up a razor. "What?" He pulls out a can as well. "I need to shave, alright?"

Mike's five o'clock shadow could wait, Jeremy was near stomping his foot down like a temperamental child to have his spot back. "Can you at least let me finish brushing my t-teeth?"

The guard is too busy spreading shaving cream along his lower half of his face to acknowledge the brunette, instead mumbling something incoherent. "Go spit in the kitchen sink or something. I ain't moving."

A sour taste began to form in the back of Jeremy's mouth, sending the nightwatch a fit of small shudders. If this had been anywhere else, with his mother's or maybe a mild's friends, of course he would be the patient litte guest he was raised to be.

But right now, Jeremy blames Mike's stubbornness is rubbing off on him.

The guard is leaning against the counter, skin prepped as he raises the razor, only to side step in surprise when a tiny, but furious weight bumps into his side. Gripping the tool tighter, ice glares down at the brunette, who seemingly ignored the man and he's non-verbal threat, happily brushing his teeth again.

Jeremy's victory lasted maybe three seconds. An elbow slams into his shoulder and he's pushed away, Mike taking the spot back. "Quit that"

There's still toothpaste on the corners of his mouth as Jeremy steadies himself. "It's not fair! Stop hogging the m-mirror!"

Mike grunts as the teen tries to push his way back again. "I told you to quit that already!" The guard snaps, holding the brunette at bay. "You can wait another five fucking minutes!"

Pressing his shoulder against the older man's torso, Jeremy puffed out his lip, pushing him away as far as he could manage. "So could you! I was h-here first!"

"I own the fucking place!"

"We both pay the bills, Mike!"

"I lived here longer.""At least I keep the place clean! You didn't even keep the fridge stocked..."

"Maybe cause I didn't have another mouth to feed, Fucksgerald."

"Geeze, Mike, I cook more than you! All you ever ate was-"

"Whatever the fuck I wanted, aight? Your cooking is shit, anyways."

Their bickering, along with their shoving and pushing came to a pause, a pang aching in Jeremy's chest. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and gripped his toothbrush tightly, and for a split second, despite the fact that Jeremy somehow managed to wiggle himself under the guard's hold mid-argument, Mike thinks he has won.

Then Jeremy looks up from the ground and manages a completely neutral face, even with the white paste on his cheek. "I won't c-cook anymore for you, then"

Mike feels a bit of disgust creep up from his stomach at the thought of returning to his original diet. He sighs, unhooking his arm from underneath the nightwatch's side and turning at an angle, allowing Jeremy to see the mirror fully.

He could have sworn he heard a victorious giggle before Jeremy was able to stifle it.

Satisfied with himself, he returns to his reflection, wordlessly sticking the toothbrush back in his mouth and starting the cycle all over again.

He nearly chokes again when he feels something firm press against his back. "W-wha are oin'?!"

"Thought I told ya not to talk with your mouth full" An arm sets besides him and on the edge of the sink, trapping Jeremy between Mike and the counter. "You've had no fucking practice, have you?"

Once again, the toothbrush falls from his mouth. "What's t-that supposed to mean?"

"It means that this way, we can both use the mirror." Mike's voice sounded like it was just above his ear, and at this very moment, Jeremy was very, very grateful for their clarity in height difference. "Don't move too much or I'll spit in your hair"

Reflexively, Jeremy pushes backwards. "T-that's gross!" Mike grunts as the younger male shuffles under his hold, craning his neck away. "I don't want to share the mirror"

"Then get out of my way"

Jeremy whips his head around to glare into blue. Considering the position they were in; their fronts facing the mirror, back against chest, it was certainly a nose-to-nose perspective. The nightwatch scoffed, making sure to stay far enough back to prevent any shaving cream from getting on his cheek.

He opens his mouth to protest, but it twitches into a giggle when 'santa' Mike raises a single brow, wrinkling his nose. "Problem?" The brunette is too tickled to answer. "Didn't think so. Brush your teeth, you nerd"

Jeremy laughs sounds like sunshine, Mike notes, as cliche as it sounds. Twirling his toothbrush, he sticks it back in his mouth. "Mean" Jeremy mumbles, returning to his brushing. The guard gives a 'hmph' in reply, taking the razor and gliding it along down his face.

It took less than half the time to finish than it did with their arguing. Typical morning.

The morning ends with Jeremy constantly patting Mike's face, giggling and grinning to himself about how 'smooooooth' it was. The older man swats his hand away and threatens him with a lint roller. Once again; typical.

Dressing in his uniform, Mike slips on his shoes as he paces out the door, glaring at his watch. He's going to be late again; if he was lucky, management wouldn't notice.

Out of the apartment, run downstairs, ignore the old lady neighbor, jump into the truck, shut driver's door, rev the engine-

Well, shit.

Jeremy blinks, the sound of the front door opening bringing a soft smile to his face. A grumbling Mike stomps inside the living room, glancing around. He spots the nightwatch, who merely tilted his head. "Keys?"

"Keys."

The nightwatch shrugs and returns to his book, minding his business. Groaning, Mike retreats to the bedroom to look for said object. Not there. Kitchen? Nope. Bathroom? Negitive. Jeremy?

With a spark of realization, Mike skidds back to the main room just to see said teen slip through the front door. He pauses, almost as if he was caught doing something secretive, but with no immediate crime coming to mind, he returns to original stance. "What?"

"You have my fucking keys" Mike spits, "You always have my fucking keys"

The neutral expression Jeremy tries to hold doesn't last very long. Mike moves forward, sticks a hand down the brunette's pants pocket and pulls out a set of several different keys attached to a ring, dangling in front of amused green eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you had them?"

"Y-You didn't a-ask!"

This is the part where Mike promptly thwacks Jeremy's forehead, ruffles his hair, pinches his ear and just tickles him in general before bolting out the door.

Mornings are nice, for the most part.

It's not until he pulls into the Fazbear parking lot does he notice the crumpled, brown lunch bag sitting tenderly in the passenger seat. Raising a brow, he turns off the engine and reaches over, grasping hold of it.

Unclipping the opening, he glances inside. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich, some fruit cup, a lemon and a ketchup packet. Definitely not the most appetizing combination in the world, but sure as hell beat the same pepperoni Fazbear's served. Pizza gets tiring after you've been eating it for lunch for the past year or so.

Damn, now he feels bad for thwacking Jeremy. He'll text him something silly later.

So far, his truck is the only vehicle in sight. Manager isn't here yet, thankfully, but that didn't excuse any slacking. Locking the truck and taking the bag with him, Mike re-tucks his shirt and takes a deep breath, unlocking the front doors and stepping inside.

---

It's not even four o'clock yet and the same fucking kid is in the ball pit again.

Tiny, chubby hands grab at his arm as he picks the child up by his shirt, lifting him from the ocean of plastic and setting him safely on the ground. The kid sticks out his tongue before rushing past the guard, probably off to cause havoc on the merry-go-round.

He runs a hand down his face, groaning when the sound of clapping is heard from behind him. "Nice save. Isn't that the fifth time today?"

Spinning on his heel, Mike meets dull amber. "Seventh, actually. Next time he goes near this pit again, I'm going to duct tape him to the net."

Fritz snorted. "I don't think his parents would like that"

"They can deal with it." Mike steps out, dusting himself off. "Thought you had band practice or something. What? Come here to steal more of my hours?" He joked, glancing back down at his watch.

The other guard shrugged. "Not yours, but Jeremy's. I've got practice every morning from eleven to five, and that cuts right into the dayshift schedule." He voices, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was out of uniform attire, wearing what looked to be his usual lumberjack jacket, plaid and all. "Besides, kid needs a break anyway."

The thought of said teen brought a pang to Mike's mind. "If anyone needs a break, it's me." He paused, "Eleven to five? That's a pretty damn long for a hitting a bunch of sticks together"

"Drums, Mike. And it's fun." Fritz defends, grinning to himself. "Besides, it's only six hours. Same as the nightshift, yeah?" He turns on his heel, walking to the manager's office. "Do me a favor and tell Jere for me!"

Mike clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. "Sure, whatever."

Leaning up against the support beams, he glances around the room. Fritz talking to the manager, kids hiding underneath tables, a majority of children gathered around the stage for storytime, but most importantly: nothing that needed his interference.

Jeremy had just shut the door behind him when a beep sounded from within his pocket. Setting his backpack against the wall, he reaches in his hoodie and pulls out a phone, flipping it open and blinking at the screen.

3:48 PM

Mike:

No work 4 u, Fritzy is taking ur shit

Another text appears mid-read.

3:48 PM

Mike:

*shift

He didn't need to work tonight? That's fine, he needed some time away from the animatronics to be honest anyway. What with finals coming up and the stack of homework tucked away in his binder, he had no free time to spare anyway. Sighing, the nightwatch quickly typed back a reply.

3:49 PM

Jeremy:

That's fine, tell him thank you for me. I needed to study anyway.

He barely has his phone closed for two seconds before it beeps again, signifying another message.

3:49 PM

Mike:

u r a nerd

3:50 PM

Jeremy:

And you're a jerk.

3:50 PM

Mike:

You love me admit it :P

3:51 PM

Jeremy:

Aren't you supposed to be working?

He doesn't receive a reply back. Maybe Mike actually stopped slacking and did his job for once? Or he could be sleeping in the office for all Jeremy knew. He remembers management complaining about him earlier in the week-wait, scratch that. His phone lit up again.

3:55 PM

Mike:

Thx 4 the food

Mike flips his phone closed and stuffs it in his bag, propping his feet up against the table top. The brown paper bag in hand, he opens it and tears the wrapper from the sandwich, scoffing down nearly half of the sandwich in one huge bite. Lunch break didn't last as long as he'd like it to, unfortunately.

His shift is boring, uneventful and simply plain. Aside from the flailing, drowning kid in the ball pit. Again.

--

The best thing about roommates is that they always have your back, most of the time.

You live together, you know each other's habits and secrets. You've seen them at their worst and they've seen you at your absolute horrifying.

It's only natural that both of you would fall into a routine.Who did the laundry, who checked the mail, who turned all the lights off before leaving and who banged on the walls when the neighbors were making a racket. Though, it was usually them with their bickering and such, so they didn't have such an issue if not being one problem themselves.

Jeremy honestly has no idea how Mike manages to make so much chores for one person. Ramen boxes in the trash were beginning to overflow, and the dishes were starting to smell. The guard had no home cleaning habits, much to the nightwatch's dismay.

The sound of keys jingling and the front door swinging open turns his head. Speak of the devil.

Mike hardly has foot in the door when Jeremy catches a whiff of something unpleasant and toxic, rushing into his nose. He scrunches up his face, bringing a hand up to cover the scent. Giving a little cough, he glares at the guard from the corner of his eye, receiving a raised brow in return.

"What?"

Green eyes narrow. "No smoking"

The man frowns, flicking the ashes away as he took another breath. "You act as if you're allergic to cigarettes or something..." He sneers, blowing a cloud into the air. "Quit the nagging. It's not going to kill you."

The puff of smoke floats directly into Jermey face, to which he frantically swipes the air around him to dissipate it. "I can give you-" He coughs into his sleeve. "...t-ten different reasons as to why it can. It's not healthy and you know it...."

Mike rolled his eyes. With a final puff, he butted the cigarette on the coffee table and crushed it between his fingers, tossing it in the trash. Jeremy's still waving the air around him when he turns again, a displeased expression painted across his face. "Happy now?"

"Yep"

"Great. You're doing dishes tonight."

The nightwatch coughed into his sleeve, taking a startled breath. "M-Me? It's supposed to be y-your turn!"

"I don't feel like it"

"T-that's not an excuse."

"You're nagging again"

"You're being a jerk again"

The guard simply shrugged, giving a grunt as he plopped down on the couch. Reaching up, he tilted his cap downwards as if to block out the world, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. "Tough luck"

He hears Jeremy make some mewl of frustration before footsteps leading down into the kitchen, quiet clangs from potter-wear being moved around echoing through the wall. Mike allows a guilty grin to stretch across his face before leaning back, drifting off to a calm doze.

When he wakes up again, his cap is sitting on the coffee table and there's a blanket tossed tenderly over him. How Jeremy tucked him in without waking him up was a questionable mystery, but Mike is much too groggy to dwell on the thought at the moment. What's more concerning is to what the nightwatch was currently up to.

Taking the blanket with him, Mike stumbles into kitchen. What he finds is probably the fourth funniest thing he's seen all week. We don't talk about the first three.

Jeremy's back is facing him, the brunette too busy with climbing atop the kitchen counters to even notice the security guard's entrance. One arm is reaching up in the air, outstretched towards the top cupboards. It's hilarious, especially since even with the extra height leverage, there's no way he's going to reach that cabinet.

Concealing a sly snicker, Mike sneaks up behind him. In one swift motion, he throws the blanket across the teen, said brunette giving a yelp of surprise. Reflexively, he hitches back and starts to fall to the floor, only to be caught in a hold of strong arms.