Friendly Affairs part 6

	Mike was dreaming. He could tell because the world around him was a black foggy void, and that wasn’t usually the case when he was awake. Everything was okay though, because despite being inexplicably located in the middle nowhere, he was happily reclining on a soft fluffy cloud.
	All around him, shadows swirled like smoke on the wind; barely even visible against the dark backdrop of nothingness as he lazily searched for some sort of solid shape to focus on. His efforts seemed futile at first, until he spotted something shimmering in the darkness.
	It was a figure. No, two. One white, and the other gold. Both abstract, but at the same time, strangely familiar. Comforting, even.
	As they floated down to join him, Mike suddenly realized he wasn’t wearing any cloths. It felt awfully embarrassing at first, but the strange entities didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they appeared happy about it, and reached out for him with ill-defined arms to explore his body with unashamed curiosity. Their brazen forwardness was riveting, to say the least, and Mike would have loved to simply close his eyes and allow his new companions to do as they please; but to his chagrin, a lingering thought that he couldn’t quite shake had wormed its way into the forefront of his mind, and demanded his resistance to their friendly advances.
	It was such an odd notion to feel so strongly about. After all, his visitors clearly meant no harm. On the contrary: both were as sweat and good-natured as… someone else he couldn’t quite recall. And yet, with each passing second, his instinct to shake them grew. Eventually, the feeling had culminated into nothing less than a shrill and unignorable screech; blaring into his ears and filling his head with the most unpleasant pain he could imagine. Relentlessly, the sound pounded against his unconscious mind like a siren; screaming over and over that he needed to get away- He needed to get up- He needed-
	“Gahh!” Mike gasped and slammed his alarm clock’s snooze button, before letting out a deep sigh and sinking back into his mattress.

	The last few days had not been kind to him.
	On paper, things couldn’t have been better. He and Chica were as close as they’d ever been since the night after his fight. Much as she hated violence, the bird couldn’t help but thrill at the notion of her boyfriend coming to her rescue, and had been nothing but eager to sing his praises whenever she got the chance. He, meanwhile, adored the positive attention and redoubled affection; as it all but cemented his opinion that Chica was, unquestionably, the single best thing he ever had going for him. And yet, for all of that idyllic companionship and sentimental solidarity, everything surrounding their relationship appeared to be testing it and pushing him down a road he was desperate not to tread.
	His problems all started after watching Foxy and Spring make love over the cameras; an act which -even days later- he was still trying to wrap his head around.
	While there had indeed been a few prior instances that seemed to test his boundaries, all of the playful winks and easily ignored double-entendres the two of them had subjected him to had escalated into something far harder to shrug off. His weekly guitar lesson with Spring had been a particularly uncomfortable eye-opener to that, as for once, Mike kept his head firmly on the curriculum and refused to slack off no matter the circumstance, while Spring took every opportunity she could to ask him some deeply personal question about his relationship or his thoughts on intimacy; all the while clinging to his side like she was moments away from pinning him to the floor.
	In a way though, it was Miss Foxy he had the hardest time dealing with. He had always considered her the mature one of the group, and it was difficult to reconcile that with the flirtatiously frisky character he had seen on his screen. But while he was perfectly willing to accept that his prim and proper coworker could lead a particularly rowdy sex-life, in the last few days, she had gone from being appreciative of his presence, to openly flirtatious.
	What worried him the most though, was that none of this was particularly new. Spring had always been a hugger, and Foxy had always been a bit clingy, but now that he was actually analyzing these traits, it was difficult not to recontextualize them in light of recent events.
	All in all, the pressure was starting to get to him, and the job Mike once loved had morphed into a hotbed of dodgy conversations and one-sided embarrassment. He wished that things could just be normal again -that they could all just be friends like before, and he could never think about their lurid off-hours affairs any more- but his situation had gone a bit too far for that now, and as Mike dragged himself from his bed and made his way towards his bathroom, he vowed that tonight was the night he would begin to make things right, no matter how much he loathed the thought.

	By chance, Mike had been presented with the perfect opportunity to come to terms with at least one of his companions, as he soon learned upon arriving at the restaurant.
	During the day, some rowdy kid had decided to punch a hole in Storytime Cove’s wall, and his boss had left him a note stating that it was his job to patch it up. It wasn’t exactly unusual for Mike to preform minor maintenance during his shift, and fortunately for him, the janitor’s closet already had all the tools he needed. Foxy, naturally, was an ever present source of company while he worked, and despite her occasional slip of the tongue, he was actually enjoying her presence quite a bit.
	Whether it was about a recent book she had read or some ridiculous stunt Chica had pulled while he was away, conversation came easily between the two of them; and even after his job was done and the only step left was to let the newly repaired wall dry before painting, she had invited him to stick around so the two of them could continue to chat. Mike, of course, graciously accepted the offer; as he couldn’t have been handed a better opportunity to address his concerns if she had rolled out a red carpet.
	Before he could really get to it though, Foxy decided to get them both drinks, and after taking his order, left for the kitchen while he took care of the clean-up. It was only then that he began actually considering what he was going to say to her. He had been so wrapped up in the idea of talking things out, that never once did he put any thought into what he was going to say. It wasn’t like he wanted to simply call her out for trying to flirt with him -especially on the chance that all of this was all some grand misunderstanding- but no matter how he framed it, nothing he came up with felt right. Eventually, Mike concluded that he would probably just have to wing it, and took a seat on one of her beanbags as he anxiously waited for Foxy’s return.

 	“Here you are,” a singsong voice announced from the doorway as Foxy appeared and handed him a cup of coffee.
	Mike thanked her and straightening up from his slouch while balancing the mug in his hand, only to almost spill it as the mechanical mascot took a seat next to him with a heavy plop.
	In contrast to his mundane cream and sugar coffee, whatever it was that she had made for herself was swimming with whipped-cream and chocolate syrup, and came complete with a peppermint stick jutting from it surface. The drink certainly seemed festive enough when compared to their holiday themed surroundings, and Mike couldn’t help but smirk to himself at the sheer excess as she blew the steam from its surface and took a tentative sip.
	“How do you do that?” he asked curiously; blowing on his drink and glancing back at hers as to mimic the action in question.
	“There’s a uh, a little thing in my chest,” she made a rapped squeezing motion with her free hand. “Like a balloon or something, that can inflate or deflate to simulate breath.”
	Mike nodded and went back to his drink; looking across the room at the patch of drywall he had just repaired and deciding to change the subject to something a bit less anatomical. “Man, I can’t believe someone punched a hole in your wall.”
	“Well, you always risk something like that when dealing with special-needs kids,” she replied downtroddenly; before catching herself and following up with a more upbeat, “Not that I don’t love them, mind you, but… Well, let’s just say this was hardly the worst encounter I’ve had with one of them.” She then slumped forward and gazed into her mug while muttering a quiet, “Probably the cleanest though.”
	Mike began to chuckle aloud at the prospect of whatever horror story his companion had endured at the hands of her most simple of patrons; prompting Foxy to pout at his side before her own demeanor gradually cracked and forced her to reluctantly snicker along with him. Still, as the laughter died, Mike knew he was only putting off the inevitable, and after stealing his nerves, decided to jump right in.
	“So um, do you mind if I ask you something?” he said hesitantly.
	“Only if it’s not about what we were just talking about.”
	“No, it’s not that,” he paused; still trying to find a way to spin this right up into the very last moment. “Have you… noticed anything weird about Spring lately?”
	The fox turned to him with a raised eyebrow, before coming back with an inquisitive, “Weird how?”
	Mike shifted in place as he attempted to form his words into a something that didn’t come off as too tactless.
	“Well, you know I’m with Chica,” he began; causing his companion to snort at the utter obviousness of his statement.
	“Why yes, Michael, I do believe I’ve heard something about that once or twice.”
	“ANYWAY!” he bellowed back; trying to keep everything on track. “Spring has gotten kind of… curious, about it. Asking a lot of really specific questions. Making a lot of insinuations. I guess I was just wondering if she’s been doing anything like that with you? Uh, asking questions, I mean.” He added that final bit as a last second clarification; not wanting to suggest anything too specific.
	Despite his efforts, Foxy, it seemed, was on to his game; as her eyes betrayed a look of understanding that her face attempted to mask with a veil of bemusement. But to Mike’s surprise, after a moment spent looking him over, her expression softened into a knowing, almost sympathetic smile.
	“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” she responded reassuringly. “Spring’s just trying to have some fun where she can.”
	“Nothing about it has been particularly “fun” to me,” Mike grumbled. “And I can only imagine what Chica would think about it if she knew.”
	“Now that I really wouldn’t worry about. You know her: If anything she’d probably find it amusing.” the vixen chuckled. Afterwards came a brief pause, as Foxy took a cue from Mike’s book and contemplated her words for a moment, before asking, “Have you considered, that maybe what’s really bothering you, is your desire to indulge Spring’s… questions?”
	“N-no!” the flustered guard stammered back. “It makes me uncomfortable. She knows I’m in a relationship. A relationship with one of her friend’s, no less! But she keeps… I don’t know, testing me.”
	“You’re in a relationship of sorts with her as well. Maybe it’s isn’t as romantic as the one you have with Chica, but I always considered you and our resident rock-start to be fairly close,” Foxy posed. “I’m not suggesting you should do anything too drastic, but would it really be so bad to indulge her a little?”
	“There are plenty of other people out there that she can “indulge” with,” Mike replied with a huff; looking over to find Foxy take a strange set of moods.
	At first taken aback, her expression slowly shifted into something resembling disbelief, before finally turning to outright amusement. With as big and bright of a grin on her face as he’d ever seen, Foxy placed her drink of the floor by her side before turning her full attention to him.
	“You know, when I heard you came in during the day, I was so upset.”
	“What, because of the fight?” Mike scratched his head; unsure of what her change in topic –or disposition- had to do with their current conversation.
	“Because I always worry that one day everyone else will rub off on you.”
	Mike shot her an odd look; prompting her to continue.
	“You don’t ever get to see it. You’re only ever here at night, and It’s always just us. You and me and Spring and Chica. No outside interference. No… normalcy,” Foxy stressed that last word: Normalcy. “You don’t ever get to see the way we’re disregarded- Humored- Begrudgingly indulged.” The smile on her face had slowly taken a darker tone as she continued to speak her peace; leaving Mike stunned at how quickly things had taken a turn for the morose.
	“Hey,” he pulled himself together enough to try and reassure her. “The kids still love you.”
	“You’re right, they do,” she conceded. “But it’s a simple kind of love. They hold us in the same regard as a day off from school or a favorite toy. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their sentiments, but putting all of my emotional stock in the affection of children is like asking you to do the same with a pet. At some point, you’re bound to crave more.”
	“I’ve known some old cat ladies who would tell you otherwise,” Mike joked; trying to add some levity back into what had quickly become an incredibly depressing conversation.
	“And I’ve known some performers with that outlook as well,” Foxy retorted. “Trying to lose themselves in their job; denying they were anything more than- than appliances.” She nearly spat the words from her mouth, and for an instant, it seemed like she was on the brink of genuine misery. But in the moments after, Foxy looked back up at him, and suddenly all of the gloom was gone. The way she eyed him just then was enough to make his heart skip a beat; an emotion only reinforced by the feeling of her hand sliding over towards his, before wrapping her fingers loosely around his palm. “I know I say it often, but you really have to idea how much we truly appreciate your continued companionship, Michael. That you treat us like people- That you take what you have with Chica so seriously- You can’t imagine how much that means to all of us.”
	He blinked a few times as the message sunk in. “Of- Of course I treat you like people. I would never think anything less of you.”
	She nearly winced at the words; as if hearing them out loud was more of a shock than she could take. Suddenly, Mike was very aware that he had returned the grip on her hand, and had even gone so far as to assume the dominant hold. He was almost dumbfounded as he glanced down to confirm that he was indeed clutching her palm, only to look back up and realize that Foxy was staring him right in the eyes.
	Her face suddenly seemed much closer to his than he was comfortable with, and the expression she gave him was somewhere between gratitude and apprehension. And yet, it didn’t even faze him as she leaned forward and brushed the tip of her long pink snout against his parted lips. All he could think about was that dream he had right before waking up, and how good it made him feel.
	Instinctively, he leaned forward and returned her graze with a full-blown lip-lock; wrapping his free hand around the back of her smooth white head to draw her further inwards. She felt so soft in his arms- So perfect. It almost reminded him of-
	“No!” Mike tore himself away and stared at the stunned figure across from him. “Thi- This was a mistake! I- I- I need to go!”
	“Wait!” Foxy pleaded as he got up and beelined straight for the door; knocking over her mug and spilling the drink all over the floor as he passed her. “Michael, please! This doesn’t have to-”
	But he was gone. Out of her room and out of hearing range; not that he was even really aware of the sounds around him anyway. His mind was in a panic, and the only thing that made sense right now was getting to his office and… and something. He would figure it out once he was there.

	As it turned out, that something was to simply sit and sulk as he waited for the hours to tick by and his shift to end. Despite how close their respective rooms were, Foxy hadn’t perused him passed The Cove, and he was truly grateful for that; as he had no idea how to deal with any of this. Everything seemed so blurry right now; like a dream. But what had happened –what he had done- it was all very real, and unlike his alarmingly common habit of peaking in on people’s private affairs, this wasn’t something he could ever explain away to himself, let alone-
	“Hey, nerd!” Chica happily chirped him as she walked through his office door. “You finish that thing with Foxy yet? 'Cause I’m itching for some-” her voice cut off dead the moment she saw his face, and the unmistakable look of sorrow plastered over it. Instantly shifting gears from playful to supportive, the tall yellow hen outstretched her winged arms and approached him amiably.
	Unfortunately, the mere thought of physical contact right now made Mike’s skin crawl, and he quickly reeled from her advances until hitting the wall behind him.
	“Hey. Hey. C’mon, what’s wrong?” Chica cooed soothingly; forcing her arms around his sides and drawing him towards her.
	“It’s… nothing,” Mike lied. All he ever did was lie to her lately.
	The bird only hugged him tighter; guiding his head into her shoulder and trying to gently rock him in place. “It’s okay, Mike. You know you can tell me anything.”
	Her voice was so coddling- So unabashedly sympathetic. It made him sick to his stomach.
	Worse than that. He felt trapped. Trapped in her arms- Trapped within the confines of a building populated solely by people he had been taking advantage of for days now. He needed to get out. He couldn’t think here. He was suffocating. And so, mustering up whatever will he had left, Mike pushed himself away from his would-be confidante's embrace; uttering a barley composed, “I need to go.” before grabbing his jacket and leaving the room.
	“Go? What do you mean go? Go where? You’ve still got three hours left in your shift,” Chica’s voice became increasingly dismayed as Mike hustled over to the side-exit near his office; summoning Spring from some adjacent doorway to come and see what all the commotion was.
	“What’s going on?” the bunny asked anxiously.
	“I-I don’t know.”
	Whatever was left of Chica’s composure was beginning to crumble; leaving her teetering perilously on the edge of panic. In one final bid to make things right, the hen placed her oversized hand on the shaken guard's shoulder right as he opened the door, and forced him to turn towards her.
	“Mike, please, talk to me!” she pleaded.
	But he could only stare back; scanning over her worried face as his words failed him and his emotions swelled.
	Then, from behind Spring, he spotted Foxy popping out from The Cove. The three of them all looked towards him in silent, visible dismay, and for a moment, Mike truly thought he was going to break-down. But with whatever waning willpower he had left, he stepped back and closed the door; watching Chica’s terrified eye stare at him through the ever-diminishing crack, right up until it finally clicked shut. Then, with nowhere to go and no idea what to do next, Mike got into his car and drove away.