Work Text:
As soon as Michael took a step out of the shower, he regretted not staying in there longer. He wanted to stall. He didn’t want to work at his father’s creepy underground animatronic warehouse. But when Dad told him about this job, it felt more like a command than an offer.
He said it was important. It was about Elizabeth, his long dead sister. She’d be there, somehow, and it was up to Michael to help her. Dad said he would know what to do once he got there.
He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. His dad was weird, but usually there some sort of method to his madness. He was a lot of things, but not a liar. Probably.
Besides, Dad said he was the only one he trusted to do this for him because he was going to be busy out of town. That sort of trust from his father was a sparse resource.
He covered himself with his towel and glanced at the mirror as he left the bathroom. It was all foggy, so he left the door wide open to help regulate the steam.
He instinctively stepped around the creaky parts of the floor as he made it to his room.
Dad had placed his work uniform on his bed, all nicely folded and tidy. Work boots. Slacks. Purple dress-shirt. It reminded Michael of when he was a kid and it was the first day of school for each year. His father was always particular about what he’d wear for first impressions.
Michael quickly got dressed. At least as quickly as he could. The dress-shirt took long with those damn buttons.
Then, he made his way back to the bathroom to get a better look at his outfit. He made it to the mirror when suddenly, he heard his father’s voice.
“Michael.” Dad was staring at him through the doorframe with an expression he couldn’t quite read.
“Hey.” He tensed as his dad approached him, suddenly feeling claustrophobic as the door to the hallway was obscured.
“Everything fit okay?” His dad asked, but Michael knew he already knew the answer before he had even tried the clothes on.
Michael glared at himself through the mirror. It fit well. He did look pretty nice, but he just couldn’t stand the purple. It was Dad’s color. He has learned to hate it.
“Yeah.” Michael sighed, his body stiffening as Dad placed a hand on his shoulder. He kept his eyes stayed glue to the mirror.
Looking at the both of them side by side, he wondered why he still felt intimidated by his dad. Dad was only a bit taller than him, and wasn’t in his “prime” anymore, to put it lightly. He got thin, almost frail. He could beat him in a fight, if he really wanted to.
“It looks good on you...” He murmured. His hand gave Michael’s shoulder gave a gentle squeeze.
Michael hummed in response, still focused on the mirror in front of them. Dad seemed to take notice and smiled at him through the reflection.
“You should wear this color more often.” He said. His hand moved to his neck and then to the back of his head, giving his scalp a gentle scratch. His hair was still damp.
His father got like this sometimes. It made him feel all messed up inside. But it was just Dad being Dad. He much preferred the affection to him being in one of his moods, even if the prolonged touching confused him to no end.
A part of him hated it. Who does he think he is? Petting him like he’s some sort of dog, as if this small amount affection could undo all of the harm his father has done to him. The other part, much to his own dismay, wanted so desperately to lean into the touch. To feel loved and safe with his dad, just for a little.
“You really do take after your old man.” He began, so gracefully interrupting his train of thought. “You’ll aways be mine. Isn’t that nice, Michael?”
He swallowed hard as he forced himself to nod. Dad doesn’t like it when people don’t agree with him.
“Say it.” Dad said sharply, the warmth in his voice from earlier suddenly dropping.
Michael averted his eyes, choosing to instead appreciate the tiles on the floor. He really didn’t want to acknowledge their similarities, let alone the fact that he’ll always be his father’s. Doing so always made him feel awful about himself.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He spoke sternly, giving Michael’s hair a tug upwards which made him yelp.
“Sorry.” Michael turned his head to face his father, only to flinch as his other hand reached towards him.
“No. Like this.” He grabbed Michael’s chin and turned it to face the mirror. “Keep looking.”
“Okay, okay... I’m sorry.” Michael could hear his own voice become small and meek. It was a humiliating force of habit.
He willed himself to focus back on the mirror, seeing his father’s proud grin as Michael did as he was told.
“Now say it.” He was speaking all soft again, like he was talking to a child. He wondered if Dad enjoyed making him feel this stupid and pathetic, or if he simply didn’t care how it made Michael feel. “I’ve done so much for you. Forgiven you for the terrible things you’ve done. You’re living in my house, eating my food, and I don’t even get a thank you from you.”
“I’m glad you’re my dad.” Michael murmured, forcing his eyes to stay on Dad’s reflection. “You’ve done so much for me. Thank you.”
“That’s it. You’re welcome, Michael.” He purred, gently scratching his scalp again.
“I’m thankful that I’m your son.” He was trembling a bit, but continued, “And I’m glad you trust me with this. I don’t want to let you down. I... I won’t let you down, Father.”
“You want to fix something instead of breaking it for once in your life, don’t you?” His tone got serious. It felt like whiplash, the way he’d sound caring one moment and then cold the next.
“Yes... Of course, I-” Michael began.
“Then go and help your sister.” He gave Michael’s back a gentle pat and then took a step away from him towards the bathroom door. “And don’t disappoint me.”
And just like that, Dad left him there with his heart pounding in his chest. He took a shaky breath in as he tried to calm both his body and mind.
“I wont.” He muttered to himself, staring at his reflection. Michael knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t risk it. He was going to help his sister, even if he didn’t know how exactly he was going to do that. He was going to make his dad pleased with him, for once.
It’ll all be worth it.