Pandemonium

I know he has red magic but i thought the blue contrasted so nicely!

@vivacious-hyena  Sorry this took so long to finish, but I hope you enjoy it! <3  It was a ton of fun to write!

UF!Sans:

The first time you call Sans, he humors you.  His voice is thick and groggy, like you woke him up, and you feel guilty, but he brushes your concern aside.  "yeah, i jus’ woke up, but hey.  wakin’ up to a pretty voice is almost like wakin’ up next to ya, so i’ll let it slide.“

He flirts with you pretty heavily the entire phone call, and the more alert he gets, the more dirty puns he comes up with.  You’re blushing, but emboldened by the anonymity of the encounter.  You flirt back.

"is this somethin’ you do often?  callin’ random numbers to flirt with strangers?”

“It’s just something I’ve always done when I was feeling especially lonely.”

Sans can relate to that feeling.

The second time you call Sans, he’s drunk at a bar.  You can hear a lot of noise in the background, but he sounds like he’s in a good mood.  He flirts immediately, but then you hear someone else’s voice in the background… and you realize he was flirting with them instead.  You shouldn’t feel an irrational surge of jealousy–of rejection–but you do.  

You hang up.

Months pass before you call Sans again.  You’re not even sure why you saved his number in your phone.  You’re just feeling particularly lonely and want someone to joke around with you, to make you feel like you’re wanted.

You don’t expect Sans to remember you, but he does.  He sounds like you woke him up again, and it makes you wonder if he does anything but sleep and drink.  You actually blurt that out, but instead of feeling insulted, he just chuckles.  The deep sound of mirth does something wonderful (and terrible–you shouldn’t feel this way over a disembodied voice!) to your insides.  

“why don’t'cha join me?”

“For which one?”

“both.”

You’re in a low enough place that you accept on the spot.  

The next thing you know, you’re all dressed up and at a bar with a purple fire elemental serving up the drinks.  He told you to wear something red, so you’ve got on a vibrant red dress (or a red tie or red shirt–take you pick).  After a few moments of sitting at the bar (and ordering the most delicious monster alcohol you’ve ever tasted; that flamesman is a miracle worker), you feel a hand graze across your back, and you turn to face…

A skeleton monster.  He’s smirking, his teeth sharp and a golden canine glinting in the flamesman’s light, and his crimson eyelights flick up and down your body appraisingly.  From the way his grin widens, you can tell he likes what he sees.

You’re still staring, flabbergasted.  You didn’t expect him to be the living dead.  

“heh, sweetheart…”  His voice trails as he takes a seat on the barstool beside you. “why don’t you take a pitcher?  it’ll last longer.”  He chuckles, and the pun is enough to shock you out of your trance.  "seriously.  let’s get a pitcher of something and chat.  name’s sans.  sans the skeleton.  probably shoulda mentioned that bit on the phone, huh?“

When you shake his hand, he actually gets you with an electric buzzer and then laughs.  "don’t look so shocked!  it’s jus’ a buzzer, doll.”

He’s right.  You’re going to need more alcohol to get through this.

You end up matching Sans shot for shot.  He drinks you under the table.  You tell him all about yourself, why you feel the way you feel, and regale him with other tales of people you’ve called in the past.  You divulge your secrets, and his grin tightens.  He tells you jokes and dirty pick-up lines, and you flirt and flirt.  You get handsy, curious about the feeling of his bone and how his face can seem so animated.  "Bone shouldn’t be this pliable.  It just shouldn’t.  Shit, I’m hitting on a skeleton,“ you slur, your fingers dangerously close to his eyesockets while you explore his face, and his hands loosely grasping your wrists.  "Can.. can you even..?  Do you even have…?”

“why not find out first-hand?” he prompts with a wicked grin and a shrug.

And you do.  Oh, you do.  

(It turns out he does have the goods.)

And by the time a tall, boisterous skeleton runs you off in the morning, while you’re cringing and trying to shhhh him because your head is killing you, you begin to have regrets.  You’re not a one-night stand; you can’t believe you actually think he’s charming, and now that he’s gotten what he wants, he won’t–

But then he calls.

UF!Papyrus:

The first time you reached Papyrus, he was annoyed.  How did some stranger get his number?!  He didn’t buy the ‘random coincidence’ bit and thought it was a prank–or someone just trying to rattle him.  

“DON’T EVER CALL THIS NUMBER AGAIN!!”

The second time you call him, you’re not entirely sure why.  Maybe you were feeling particularly down and just wanted someone to kick you further into the abyss.  He can hear it in your voice, and even though he’s frustrated (“YOU AGAIN!!”), he doesn’t automatically hang up.  He rattles off a list of people he suspects you to be, and when you deny each one, he starts to believe you.  

“That’s a lot of people that you assume would mess with you,” you remark, and he scoffs.

“IT’S TO BE EXPECTED OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS!  EVERYONE IS INTIMIDATED!  THEY ALL END UP BEING IN MY SHADOW, SO OF COURSE THEY’D DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS!”

“How can you be great and terrible at the same time?”

He proceeds to tell you about his exploits in the Royal Guard for the next hour.  He barely even takes a breath.

The third time you call him, you’re having a Bad Day.  "I SHOULD’VE KNOWN YOU WOULD CALL AGAIN!“

You don’t return the greeting.

"HUMAN?”

Papyrus listens to you cry for nearly a half hour.  You only know he’s still there because you can occasionally hear the scrape of the phone against the side of his face.  You didn’t even know he could be that quiet.  

“…Sorry,” you end up murmuring, before you hang up.

A week passes, and you’re too embarrassed to call him again.  You beat yourself up over your moment of weakness–of showing him such an ugly side of yourself.

But that night, he calls you.

You’re shocked to see his number pop up on your phone, but you answer anyway.  Immediately, he blurts, “WHERE ARE YOU?”

“E-excuse me?”

“WHERE ARE YOU?  MEET ME SOMEWHERE.”

The request seemingly comes out of nowhere.  You end up complying and giving him a location to meet you, and when you do… you immediately recognize him just from his confident stride.  And holy crap, he’s tall and scary-looking.

“I didn’t expect you to be a skeleton monster.”

“I EXPECTED YOU TO BE A WEAK HUMAN, SO AT LEAST ONE OF US WAS CORRECT.”  He glowers down at you, his expression a constant scowl.  You begin to rethink this meeting, but something in your own expression causes his gaze to soften slightly.  "…COME ON. I MADE RESERVATIONS,“ he claims, gesturing for you to follow.

Papyrus treats you to dinner, and throughout the meal, he prods you into talking about yourself.  He even pays for your half, despite your insistence that it’s not necessary.  Afterward, he takes you on a walk through the town, simply meandering along the sidewalks.  You’re bolder now and end up talking the entire time, while he listens in contemplative silence.  

At the end of the night, he pauses, his face turning a shade to rival the tattered scarf wound around his neck.  ”… THIS DATE HAS BEEN SUCCESFFUL, HUMAN.  I KNOW THAT YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO RESIST WANTING ANOTHER ONE WITH SOMEONE WAS GREAT AS I, SO I’LL SAVE YOU THE AGONY OF BEGGING AND CONCEDE.  YES, WE CAN GO OUT AGAIN THIS WEEKEND.“

You stare at him, flabbergasted for a full thirty seconds before you stammer, "T-this was a date?!”

He calls you every day after that.  

US!Sans:

Sans is beyond excited that you’ve called him.  He instantly wants to know all about you–what’s your favorite food, your favorite color, do you like puzzles, what’s your opinion about glitter?  When you ask him about himself, he informs you that he’s the MAGNIFICENT SANS.  After a while of talking, he declares that he realizes the TRUE INTENT of your call.  

“YOU WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH ME!  IT’S CLEAR THAT WE’VE MET BEFORE, AND YOU’VE JUST BEEN TOO SHY TO APPROACH ME!  THERE’S NO REASON TO BE INTIMIDATED BY MY MAGNIFICENCE!  OF COURSE I’LL BE YOUR FRIEND!”  

He says it with such genuine sincerity that you grin and agree.

Sans texts you every day after that call, his messages in ALL CAPS followed by several exclamation marks.  His excitement is contagious, and his cheerful messages brighten your day.  If you don’t call him at night, then he calls you.  He always asks about your day, and even the little menial details intrigue him.  You feel as if he really listens to you–that he actually cares about the conversations you had at work or the stupid pictures you laughed at online.  

He sends you pictures of puzzles, followed by selfies of him grinning broadly with a man in an orange hoodie photo-bombing the background of each one.  You’re surprised to discover that he’s a skeleton, but when you send him a selfie back, you find that he thinks humans are fascinating.  You’re given the green light to ask all the questions you want (“Why do your eyes sometimes look like stars?  How do your cheeks puff out?  How do you eat?  What was it like Underground?”) and he asks about your life on the Surface and what you thought when the barrier broke.  

Somewhere along the conversations, you admit to him that you feel less lonely ever since you called him.  He sounds so proud and so excited when he responds with, “THAT’S GREAT, HUMAN!!  I’M A MAGNIFICENT GUY, AFTER ALL, SO OF COURSE I’D BE A MAGNIFICENT FRIEND!  AND YOU KNOW… YOU’RE VERY MAGNIFICENT YOURSELF, SO IT WOULD BE A TRAGEDY FOR SOMEONE LIKE YOU TO FEEL LONELY!  IF YOU EVER FEEL THAT WAY, CALL ME IMMEDIATELY SO I CAN FIX IT, OKAY??”

And you do.  Even in the times when you don’t feel like you should bother him, he always seems to call you first.  You get so close to him, that when he invites you to have lunch in the park, you accept without hesitation.  You end up on a picnic with him and his brother–and you even meet Alphys, a reptilian monster with even more spunk than Sans.  She convinces both of you to run laps around the park while her girlfriend Undyne and Sans’s bro Papyrus lie in the shade and watch.  They’re all really accepting of you, and you… don’t feel so alone anymore.  

That night, when Sans walks you home, you slip your hand into his.  Surprisingly, his face lights up a bright blue that glows in the dark, and you laugh and call him a nightlight.  He gets flustered and pulls his hand away, so you end up walking with your arms around his neck, jokingly trying to console him.  Blueberry grabs your arms and swiftly pulls you onto his back, and then grins as he gives you a piggyback ride home.  

When he drops you off, you kiss his glowing cheek and thank him.  His face glows even brighter, and he remarks confidently, “MWEH HEH HEH, FOR SOMEONE AS STRONG AS THE MAGNIFICENT SANS, CARRYING YOU IS A BREEZE!”  

You score a solo-date with him that weekend and exceed all of his standards with your sheer Dating Power.

US!Papyrus:

Stretch realizes you’re a stranger the moment he picks up the phone.  After all, there are very few people that actually know his number, and those that do know that he’s a texter rather than a caller (with the exception of his brother; he’ll always answer his phone calls).  He was expecting you to be a telemarketer he could mess with, so he starts off with his usual “is your refrigerator running?  ok, i’ll bring the brewskis over.”

“Okay, bring 'em over.  I’ll drink with you,” you reply, and he realizes quickly that you’re not attempting to sell him anything.  He chuckles in his surprise and starts chatting with you about drinks–then honey, then sweets, then about how you sound sweet.  His voice is smooth and relaxed, his chuckle rich and amused.  You like his voice, and closing your eyes, you’re able to imagine him lying next to you on your bed in the bed, murmuring into your ear.

You end up falling asleep talking to him.  

The next day, he texts you.  

Smooth like Honey: “if youre feelin phonely tonight call me”

Was that… a crappy phone pun?  You may have mentioned that you called him because you felt lonely and just wanted to talk to someone.

You call him again, and he’s just as nice.  This time, you hear someone boisterous in the background and discover he has a brother.  His brother insists on talking to you.  "HELLO! DO I KNOW YOU?  I DON’T??  ME?  I’M THE MAGNIFICENT SANS!!  DO YOU LIKE TACOS?“

You end up getting invited over for a taco dinner.  You politely decline because you know that meeting strangers at their house for tacos is a good way to get made into ground beef.  Sans seems heart-broken.  

You and Papyrus keep in touch through texting throughout the week.  The next time you call him, you’ve had a bad week, and you’re drunk and want him to bring over those brewskis.  You vaguely remember texting him your address, but he does show up.  He doesn’t have alcohol, and you remember blurting something like "You’re a fucking skeleton!” which he may have countered with “yeah, you’re right, hun.  i’m a skeleton that fucks.”  He’s got a lazy grin and a lollipop between his teeth, and you end up clutching his hoodie on your couch, all of your inhibitions obliterated as you ask him to just talk to you–right by your ear.

“honey, do you like my voice that much?”

And then you may have ripped that sucker out of his mouth and kissed him.  You can’t remember.  You know you wanted to do it, but everything gets fuzzy after that.  All you know if that you wake up throwing up into a trash can with Stretch rubbing your back and looking tired, and you grasp at the bits and pieces of the night before.  He’s really here; he’s a skeleton, but he’s a rather attractive monster with a grin that gives you butterflies and a voice that makes your toes curl, and you just… ruined everything.  

Surprisingly, he stays and takes care of you, watching Netflix on the couch and making sure you drink enough water.  He teases you for becoming a vomit dragon, and asks if kissing him was really that repulsive.  You turn bright red and stammer out apologies, but he shrugs all of them off.  "we’ve all been there.  do you want me to go home?“

"No, but–”

He slips an arm around your shoulders and drags you against his side.  "then i wanna stay  it’s as queasy as that.“  

So, he stays.  He ends up asleep on the couch halfway through NTT re-runs, and you nap against his chest.  The next thing you know, you’re dating and going over for Taco Thursdays with his brother.

These got kinda long, so I’m skipping the SF!bros, but just pretend Blackberry was a jerk at first and then tsundere, and then kinda thirsty and demands you be his because "IT’S OBVIOUS YOU’RE HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH ME! IT’S NO COINCIDENCE THAT YOU CALLED ME!  ALL OF THIS WAS PLANNED FROM THE VERY BEGINNING!  SO FINE! COME OVER TO MY HOUSE AND SHOW ME YOUR PASSION IN PERSON!!”

And SF!Paps straight-up talks you into phone sex with him, before coaxing you into meeting him to make your conversations a reality–only you didn’t expect a skeleton monster.

UF!Papyrus: Icy Roads, Warm Bed

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ONLY HAVE ONE BED?”

Papyrus glares at you, his eyesockets narrowed despite his flabbergasted tone–as if you should have at least kept a guest room.  Ha!  Yeah, right.  Your modest one-bedroom apartment suits you just fine.  It’s affordable, and it isn’t like you have to host slumber parties or anything.  Your friends are adults; they can go back to their own homes.

But apparently, the grouchiest of your friends cannot.  

It’s your fault Papyrus is stranded with you in the first place.  You had been the one to text him, asking if he had any experience with hot water heaters.  While it may have sounded like some sort of pick-up line (hey baby, do you know how to warm up my pipes?), you had genuinely needed his guidance, and after he irritably attempted to direct you via the phone, he had ultimately given up and driven over to your apartment himself.  After a few comments about not being your handyman, Papyrus had… struggled to solve the puzzle of the hot water heater.  By the time he actually fixed it–just in time for the winter storm–the sun had set and the roads were completely iced over.  

Which meant he needed to stay the night and wait until everything warmed up tomorrow afternoon and the roads began to thaw.  That also lead to your current predicament–sleeping arrangements.  

Your bedroom contains a full-sized bed pushed against the wall for added space, while your living room has a loveseat and a recliner, both of which are too short for Papyrus to comfortably lie across.  The bed would be fine, but…

You shift uncomfortably, your gaze returning to the irritated skeleton.  While the two of you are friends, with his attitude, you ended up at one another’s throats more often than not.  It’s best to just give in this time, especially since he had actually helped you before getting iced in.  "Yeah, just one bed.  Look, I’ll just take the couch so you can stretch out,“ you offer, already moving to grab your pajamas out of a drawer.

Papyrus stares at you for a moment more, before he glances away.  Either his eyelights are glowing brighter, the light casting a glow upon his high cheekbones, or he’s blushing.  ”… IT’S FINE.  WE CAN JUST SHARE THE BED.“

You freeze in the middle of closing the drawer, slowly turning toward him.  ”… What?“

"OH, DON’T ACT LIKE YOU DIDN’T HEAR ME, HUMAN! I SAID WE CAN SHARE THE BED!  YOUR COUCH IS STIFF AND LUMPY.  YOU WOULD WAKE UP WITH YOUR BACK KILLING YOU.”  His arms cross, and he averts his gaze from you to your mattress, glaring even harder.  You continue to stare, completely flabbergasted.  Is he serious..?

Papyrus plops down on the edge of the mattress and begins taking off his tall, thick-soled boots.  He doesn’t take off his socks, but he does take off his gloves, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen his phalanges.  You’ve seen Sans’s countless times–he never wears gloves–but Papyrus’s fingers are long and slender, the skeleton equivalent of pianist fingers.  He shoves his crimson gloves into his boots and then unwinds the ragged scarf from his neck, leaving on his tight black jeans and shirt.  

He’s serious about this.

So why make it weird?

“O-okay, I’ll just go change,” you manage, slipping out of the room without your pajamas in hand and a flush to your face.  It’s not that big of a deal; you’re just sharing a bed.  You’ve done that with friends plenty of times.  

…Only this time, it’s with someone you find incredible attractive.  Even if the two of you argue all the time, it only fuels the fire.  He challenges you, and you him, and you had begun to sneak a flirtatious tone to the arguments that you weren’t quite sure he understood.  This could be an opportunity to make a move.

Or it could be an opportunity to lie awake all night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, while being acutely aware that his arm was close enough to brush yours.  

You know it’s probably going to be the latter and sigh, changing your clothes, and finally heading back to the bedroom.  Papyrus is sitting on the edge of the bed, impatiently waiting.  "…YOU GET IN FIRST.  I DON’T WANT TO SLEEP AGAINST THE WALL.“  

"Who says I do?” you shoot back automatically, bristling over his demand, and he rolls his eyelights, nonplussed.

“STARS, JUST GET IN BED ALREADY!”

Arguing over something stupid like that is just delaying the inevitable, so you sigh and throw your hands down at your sides.  Complying, you crawl across the bed to the side closest to the wall and lie down.  Papyrus flips off the lamp without looking at you and lies down.  It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the lack of light enough to make out his outline, and when they do, you can see that he’s lying on his side with his back toward you.  

The bed feels warm with him in it, and you were surrounded.  Your shoulder is against the wall, and your arms are gathered onto your abdomen so your elbow won’t touch Papyrus, but… you’re wide awake, as expected.  You’re hyper-aware of every little movement he makes, and as the silence stretches, you begin to relax your arms.  This isn’t that awkward, you decide after several long minutes have passed, and even though your face is still burning, you manage to close your eyes.  You’re just sleeping with your grouchy crush; that’s no big deal, right?  

When morning comes, you wake up feeling comfortable and warm, like you’re wrapped up in a cocoon.  You must have made yourself into a blanket burrito again.  You snuggle deeper into the blankets, your half-lidded gaze shifting from the wall to your cocoon–

Only to spot skeletal arms wrapped around you.  

Your blush only intensifies are you note that long, slender fingers are gripping the softness of your chest, while the other hand is splayed across your abdomen.  Your spine stiffens, and you draw in a deep, ragged breath through your nose, the events of last night replaying.  Papyrus seemed to have rolled over in his sleep, and the two of you ended up spooning.  You start to turn your head back toward him, only to realize its tucked beneath his chin.  

What do you do?  Do you lie here and continue to let him grab onto you in his sleep, or do you attempt to break his hold and slip out of bed?  Do you wake him up with an elbow to the sternum and never let him live it down?  Or do you just go back to sleep?

While you’re weighing your choices and trying to calm down, you suddenly feel Papyrus stiffen from behind you.  Obviously, he just woke up and realized what he was doing.  You feel his fingers flex, trying to figure out what he’s grabbing onto, and you suddenly see a reddish light cast upon the beige wall directly in front of you.  This time, you know he’s blushing.   He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and very carefully, he removes his hands, slowly dragging one of his arms out from beneath you, while simultaneously backing away to his side of the bed.  You don’t move the entire time.

After a few moments with him lying there, the mattress creaks as he finally sits up, and you turn your head to watch him rake his phalanges across his face and over his head.  He stays like that for a moment, hands on his face and his back hunched over, so you decide to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in.

“G'morning,” you greet with a stage yawn for emphasis.  His entire body jerks, his spine snapping straight and his hands immediately falling.  He doesn’t turn around, most likely because he’s still blushing a bright crimson.

“GOOD MORNING!!”  His voice is an octave higher than usual and comes out with forced enthusiasm.  

“Did you sleep well?”  You sit up, stretching your arms above your head to get your back to pop.  Papyrus flinches at the sound and jumps to his feet.

“YES!  Y-YES!  VERY WELL!  ALL GOOD!  BUT I’M HUNGRY, SO I’M.. I’M GOING TO MAKE BREAKFAST!”  He nearly stumbles in his haste to flee the room, and you’re unsure if you should be flattered that you have this effect on him, insulted that he ran away, or neither because he’s probably just mortified that he got handsy while you both were unconscious.  

Either way, you get out of bed and follow him to the kitchen.  His cooking is, quite frankly, the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, so you manage to shoulder him out of the way and make instant pancakes while he grumbles and sits on a stool to watch.  By the time you’re finished eating, he’s able to look at you without turning red again.  Neither of you mention what happened, both playing dumb, and you watch TV together while you wait for the roads to thaw.

“You know…” you begin, glancing up at him.  He looks relaxed, but he always does when he’s watching MTT.  "…maybe you shouldn’t chance driving today.  It would probably be safer if you just stay another night.“

The suggestion tumbles past your lips before you can stop it, and you mentally wince.  Is it too obvious that you want to sleep beside him again?  Is he going to–

"THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD IDEA.  I DON’T WANT TO POTENTIALLY DAMAGE MY VEHICLE!”  He doesn’t even look away from the television, despite giving in so easily.  

You can’t help but smile.  "That’s right.  You’d flip your shit if your baby got scratched.“

"THAT CAR IS WORTH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE, HUMAN!” He scoffs, the words holding no bite.  

The two of you bicker back and forth, but you’re distracted, thinking about tonight.

this is what happens when people like me take it easy.