There. That should settle things. Between not only Michael, but Chucky too. You were cuddled by both of them, so at the end of the night, everything had worked out perfectly fine. Or so it appeared. Because before you could drift off to sleep and face Freddy once again, ridiculously loud music blasted throughout the mansion's halls, waking you and Chucky up in the process. Michael never slept, so he probably didn't get jump-scared, but the scary noise definitely caused your eyes to sleepily flutter open and become unsettled by the wild sound. However, that music...it sounded like the classical music you played for Brahms during his list of rules and sessions. Oh no, had this random burst of noise woke him up too...!? You should go check on the younger boy, just to make sure he was alright. Without switching out of your nightwear, you stumbled out of bed and swung open your door; the two slashers sticking possessively by your side. But when you hesitantly entered Brahms' room, your entire body froze - realising that the doll was no longer tucked under the covers.

"Okay, where the fuck has that little shit gone?" Chucky snapped defensively, his eyes flickering around the room as he gripped his knife uneasily.

"I don't know, but we need to find him fast." You exclaimed in alarm, worried for not only Brahms' safety; but also what the Heelshire's would think if they returned from their vacation and saw that you'd lost their precious son. "He could be in danger."

"Are you serious!? He's acting like the fucking danger!" The redheaded doll retorted with resentment, grasping your wrist and keeping you close while Michael searched every hidden space in the son's quarters. But still, he wasn't there.

Thinking fast, you pulled your wrist away from Chucky and hurried back into the hallway; following the unbelievably loud music after you realised it was coming from the living room. "C'mon, he might be down here—" Before you could finish your sentence, your voice died out - shocked by what you now saw in front of you.

Because it wasn't just the missing Brahms. It was the doll sitting creepily in one of the living room chairs, the music continuing to play through the record player whilst only one of the table lamps was turned on. Stunned, you couldn't move, standing in the middle of the doorway with wide eyes as Michael and Chucky appeared behind you. Thankfully they caught on fast, the silent slasher turning the record player off immediately before appearing in front of you and holding your shoulders to check that you were feeling alright. Calming down slightly, you snapped out of your surprised state and took several deep breaths, your confusion dying down after you started to piece together what had happened. But whatever was going on, Brahms could be scolded later. Right now, the most important thing was to get the doll back to bed - before any other sinister pranks could get pulled on you three tonight. So with that being silently said, you cautiously approached the doll; bending down a little so you could talk to Brahms firmly and point out the obvious.

"What the Hell is going on in here...?" Chucky muttered under his breath, following you from behind and making sure the other doll didn't try any type of funny business.

"You're going to hurt your ears, you silly boy." You reprimanded Brahms sternly, releasing a sigh before picking the doll up once more. "What do you have that so loud for?"

Not expecting - nor receiving - any sort of response, you carried the doll back upstairs and laid him underneath the covers a second time, attempting to sound like a responsible Nanny and get things under control. "I'm very disappointed in you, Brahms. You broke the rules. We'll discuss this more in the morning. For now, let's just get you some rest."

Once you'd flicked the lights off and shut the door again, you walked back downstairs into the kitchen; Chucky sitting on one of the countertops as Michael stood mere inches away from you. "Listen, (Y/n)..." The sharp-tongued redhead called your name awkwardly, clearly trying to say something while you made some coffee to chill you three out.

"Hmm...? What's on your mind...?" You wearily asked, handing him a cup of coffee shortly afterwards before you handed Michael a cup also.

"I think it's probably best that you give up on this whole babysittin' job and call it off or somethin', y'know?" Chucky spoke in a stressful tone, taking a swig of his coffee after sharing his thoughts and glancing at Michael at the same time.

"What...? Why...?" You questioned with exhaustion, making a coffee for yourself before you turned around and faced them both. "Do you think I'm doing a bad job or something...?"

"IT'ᔕ ᑎOT TᕼᗩT. YOᑌ'ᖇE ᗪOIᑎG ᗩ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇᖴᑌᒪ ᒍOᗷ. TᕼIᔕ ᔕOᖇᖇY E᙭ᑕᑌᔕE ᖴOᖇ ᗩ ᗪOᒪᒪ ᒍᑌᔕT ᕼᗩᔕ ᗩ TEᖇᖇIᗷᒪE ᗯᗩY ᗯITᕼ ᗯOᖇᗪᔕ, TᕼᗩT'ᔕ ᗩᒪᒪ. ᗯᕼᗩT ᕼE ᗰEᗩᑎT TO ᔕᗩY ᗯᗩᔕ TᕼᗩT TᕼIᔕ ᑭᒪᗩᑕE Iᔕ GᖇOᗯIᑎG ᗰOᖇE ᗩᑎᗪ ᗰOᖇE ᗪᗩᑎGEᖇOᑌᔕ. ᗩᑎᗪ GIᐯEᑎ EᐯEᖇYTᕼIᑎG TᕼᗩT'ᔕ ᕼᗩᑭᑭEᑎEᗪ, IT'ᔕ ᑭᖇOᗷᗩᗷᒪY ᗯIᔕEᖇ Iᖴ YOᑌ ᔕTᗩYEᗪ Iᑎ TOᗯᑎ TOᑎIGᕼT, IᑎᔕTEᗩᗪ Oᖴ ᕼEᖇE. OKᗩY? ᗷEᑕᗩᑌᔕE ᗯᕼᗩT ᒍᑌᔕT ᕼᗩᑭᑭEᑎEᗪ Iᔕᑎ'T ᑎOᖇᗰᗩᒪ. TᕼᗩT ᗰᑌᔕIᑕ, TᕼᗩT ᗯᗩᔕᑎ'T ᒍᑌᔕT ᗩ ᖴᒪᑌKE. ᔕOᗰETᕼIᑎG ᔕTᖇᗩᑎGE Iᔕ GOIᑎG Oᑎ ᕼEᖇE, (Y/ᑎ). I ᗪOᑎ'T ᒪIKE TᕼIᔕ. I ᗪOᑎ'T ᒪIKE YOᑌ ᗷEIᑎG ᕼEᖇE."

[A/N: "IT'S NOT THAT. YOU'RE DOING A WONDERFUL JOB. THIS SORRY EXCUSE FOR A DOLL JUST HAS A TERRIBLE WAY WITH WORDS, THAT'S ALL. WHAT HE MEANT TO SAY WAS THAT THIS PLACE IS GROWING MORE AND MORE DANGEROUS. AND GIVEN EVERYTHING THAT'S HAPPENED, IT'S PROBABLY WISER IF YOU STAYED IN TOWN TONIGHT, INSTEAD OF HERE. OKAY? BECAUSE WHAT JUST HAPPENED ISN'T NORMAL. THAT MUSIC, THAT WASN'T JUST A FLUKE. SOMETHING STRANGE IS GOING ON HERE, (Y/N). I DON'T LIKE THIS. I DON'T LIKE YOU BEING HERE."] Placing his cup of coffee down on the kitchen counter, Michael scribbled his response on his notepad sharply; handing it over to you moments later and causing you to shake your head from stubbornness.

"Children have tantrums." You argued adamantly, returning his reply after taking another sip of your hot drink. "It was a tantrum."

"Oh, come on, bitch. Step back and get some perspective here." Chucky irritably responded, hopping off the counter so he could stand up and cross his arms.

"No, I don't need perspective. I know exactly what's happening here, and I'm not going anywhere." You decided with an obstinate glare, finishing your coffee before heading back upstairs to Brahms' room in order to check he was still there. After opening his door a tiny bit, he was, relief filling your veins when you saw the doll right where you left him. Thank Goodness.

—

"You can't be okay with this crap." Chucky hissed towards Michael hatefully, stamping his foot on the floor and staring at the stalker with intense aggravation. "I mean, I know this bitch is stubborn, but c'mon dickhead, you've gotta see where I'm coming from here...!"

"ᗯEᒪᒪ, YOᑌ ᗰᗩY ᗷE ᔕTᑌᑭIᗪ, ᗷᑌT ᗩT ᒪEᗩᔕT YOᑌ'ᖇE ᑎOT ᗷᒪIᑎᗪ." [A/N: "WELL, YOU MAY BE STUPID, BUT AT LEAST YOU'RE NOT BLIND."] Michael wrote towards Chucky sarcastically, purposely trying to set him off and annoy him further.

"Oh, you REALLY don't wanna pick a fight with me right now, fuck-face, because I'm REALLY not in the mood. Besides, we have MUCH bigger problems at hand." Chucky growled in a furious fashion, holding his knife in one hand as Michael's reply struck a sore spot.

"ᗯᕼY ᗯOᑌᒪᗪ I ᗯᗩᔕTE ᗰY TIᗰE ᑭIᑕKIᑎG ᗩ ᖴIGᕼT ᗯITᕼ YOᑌ? ᗩᑎᗪ YEᗩᕼ, ᑎO ᔕᕼIT TᕼEᔕE ᑭᖇOᗷᒪEᗰᔕ ᗩᖇE ᗷIGGEᖇ, TᕼEY ᑭᖇOᗷᗩᗷᒪY GO ᗯᗩY OᐯEᖇ YOᑌᖇ ᕼEᗩᗪ." [A/N: "WHY WOULD I WASTE MY TIME PICKING A FIGHT WITH YOU? AND YEAH, NO SHIT THESE PROBLEMS ARE BIGGER, THEY PROBABLY GO WAY OVER YOUR HEAD."] Michael wrote in another smug scrawl, mocking Chucky through his size this time.

"You are SUCH an ASSHOLE, y'know that!?" Chucky flared up heatedly, getting ready to stab Michael and start another fight regardless. But then—

"ᗷᑌT I ᔕEE YOᑌᖇ ᑭOIᑎT. I ᔕEE ᗯᕼEᖇE YOᑌ'ᖇE ᑕOᗰIᑎG ᖴᖇOᗰ. I'ᗰ ᑎOT OKᗩY ᗯITᕼ TᕼIᔕ EITᕼEᖇ. TᕼOᑌGᕼ ᗯE'ᖇE ᑎOT GOIᑎG TO ᗷE ᗩᗷᒪE TO ᕼᗩᑎᗪᒪE TᕼIᔕ ᗷY OᑌᖇᔕEᒪᐯEᔕ. ᗯE'ᖇE GOIᑎG TO ᑎEEᗪ ᕼEᒪᑭ." [A/N: "BUT I SEE YOUR POINT. I SEE WHERE YOU'RE COMING FROM. I'M NOT OKAY WITH THIS EITHER. THOUGH WE'RE NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO HANDLE THIS BY OURSELVES. WE'RE GOING TO NEED HELP."]