#coonfics

Sans sung himself a simple tune as he traveled unaccompanied through the dead valley, the crunching of the crisp plants the other only noise to ring through the silent environment. With a set destination, he was careful to look for any and all signs of a presence nearby. Well, a presence other than a god. Giant trenches carved onto the earth showed to all that the end was near. The sun was just about fully set behind the distant mountains, but still he pulled his hood over his skull further, trying to hide himself in his bundle of robes, the only thing he brought with him.

Finding this place wasn’t so hard for the small skeleton; all he really had to do was follow the terrified directions of villagers, the ginormous drag marks, and his own visions. Occasionally he would turn from the past to look into the blurred future, looking for a sign of anything, but he only received the same sights as always.  

Born a seer, Sans had a gift of glimpsing into the future, though they were never clear to him. All he really knew was that these visions only brought about bad events. He would sometimes see flashes of orange light and heat days before a wildfire, or perhaps he would only see a splatter of red minutes before an attack on another monster. Some considered it a gift, though most thought he was a bad omen, meant to only bring about bad luck and tragedy. Sans himself had begun to believe it, wondering why he would be given the gift in the first place when he could barely see anything within them. Isolation became the norm for his life, and attempts on his life were soon a regular occurrence. When one of the attacks left a good chunk of his skull missing and the inability to see in one socket, he had completely resigned himself to defeat. However, his vision had only begun to strengthen, as he had begun to receive clearer images. Torn valleys, decimated villages, and scarred bones were just a few of them. He could tell right away that they were no omens or predictions of events, but instead a purpose; his purpose. It was the reason he was put on this world, and so he found himself obligated to follow it.

And so here he was now, not a single soul in his sights, his blurred glimpses of the future only coming more frequently. He was so close. He would find him soon.

And there he was. Crossing over a destroyed hill, Sans finally saw him: Papyrus. Once a god that defined the kindness and good-natured spirit of the world, he was now a completely emaciated skeleton, no longer with any legs or a bottom working jaw due to the effects of his starvation after not eating for centuries. His teeth were chipped and uneven and he lacked any eyes or sockets, and boy was he huge. About the size of a mountain and with an arm span totaling a few hills and valleys, he was more than a sight to be feared. Giant trenches in the earth trailed from his pelvis from where he had dragged himself with his large talons staking into the ground. He laid on the ground, limp and helpless. He looked so pitiful, and yet more than deadly.  He was the epitome of entropy and death, and yet he was still so…

“Beautiful,” Sans whispered, a hand coming up to hook around the curve of his destroyed eye socket. He felt as though he was being shrouded in understanding for once in his lifetime, as his mind began to piece together vision and memories and foretelling glimpses that he could never explain. This was an answer to his question of purpose, he knew. A grin stretched across his skull, growing only wider as he moved from his place atop the hill and towards the god. For all he knew at this point, he could be heading for certain death right now, but it wasn’t like he had much to live for anyways. The visions had completely ceased at this point, allowing him to see the beast before him in all its glory.  

The beast seemed to sense his presence nearby, as he turned his skull in the direction of the much larger skeleton. A hungry rumble emitted from within his ribcage. Or was it a whine of loneliness? He could not tell yet.  

Sans felt no fear as he approached further, his hands fiddling with his robes to tighten them in some vain attempt to appear pleasing in the presence of the starving god. At any moment, Papyrus could just snatch him up and have the smaller monster provide him with the little sustenance he was worth. However, he did nothing of the sort, his skull laid flat against the earth as another pained moan echoes through his ribcage, which held his large soul that seemed to be losing its glow.  

Sans was just before the god’s skull before he finally stopped, looking up at the blank, deformed, but still so white canvas that usually contained the sockets. The two monsters said nothing to one another, not that one of them could, and for a moment, Sans could only feel his excitement that beat within his soul. He slowly raised a hand, his robes falling down his radius and ulna and reached forward, his feet moving to step him forward and get him up close and personal with the beast before him. Papyrus did not move to stop him, instead letting the tiny skeleton get close enough to touch him.

There was hesitation at first. Logic kicked in at the last moment, stirring within Sans’ skull as his phalanges holding just centimeters away from the god’s skull. He stilled for a moment, contemplating his final choices, before finally laying his palm flat against the marred skull of the god.

In an instant, everything just became so clear to Sans. Visions he had experienced in the past were now crystal clear, with fire and destruction no longer blurred by the limitations of his talents. As for the future, it was just as comprehensible. Decimated villages and screams of agony rang in his mind as though they were playing out at that moment. He could feel the shadows fill his robes, listening to them begin to laugh, but not to mock or to poke fun, but instead to celebrate and rejoice. Shadows filled his skull through the hole that had removed his eye, filling his head with laughter and voices and thoughts and visions and purpose. He could hear a voice, his voice, speaking to him, the scratchy and hoarse sound of him soothing him like a lullaby to a child. He finally understood now, seeing the glimpses of destroyed villages and ruined lives, feeding the god and leading the world into entropy little by little. And the forefront of it was Sans, bringing the good news that Papyrus, the starving god, his god, would finally be fed through the world’s gradual demise. He would be his harbinger.

Sans slid a hand into the robes he wore, entering the laughing darkness past the sharpened ribcage to gently touch his whitened soul, glowing brightly at the contact with his god. It could feel the direct connection formed with Papyrus. It almost felt like home now. For the first time in his life, Sans felt as though he finally belonged somewhere, and that he could finally be happy. For once, the god and his harbinger no longer needed to be alone. Sans could feel his god’s hunger, his pain, and loneliness, while Papyrus tried his best to fix Sans’ own. With his voice and shadows, Sans knew they would stay connected, no matter how far they became. 

The conversation was short. He only needed a little prodding to convince the larger monster to eat.

The smaller skeleton removed his hand from Papyrus, turning and walking away from the god and towards the nearest town. His skull full of visions of destruction and dismay and robes at the brim with laughing shadows, Sans finally knew his purpose. He walked away without a word, as there were no words that were needed to be said. He hummed a tune to himself, rejoicing over the times.

Dust watched the movie with Papyrus, silent the entire time. As usual, Papyrus didn’t mind, being the one to make most of the side comments about the performance and getting excited during certain scenes of Mettaton showing off his acting chops.  

“Oh I love this part,” he grinned happily, resting his skull in his gloved hands while he watched the fabulous robot on screen. Dust listened and nodded along, seemingly more interested in Papyrus than Mettaton. Sans never quite had a liking for robot, but the younger skeleton knew from experience that he wasn’t going to keep him from watching it. Sans was fine with him watching practically anything as long as he got to control the parental lock.  

The MTT network always had Papyrus’ favorite shows on, all starring that amazing robot on screen. Miss Toriel and Sans were always a tad judgmental, but what was there to be critical about? He was human-fighting robot/ghost with amazing cooking skills. How could anyone not love Mettaton? He loved his fans almost as much as he loved himself. Ahem, almost. That level of confidence and self-esteem was something the skeleton found himself relating to on a daily basis. Why people didn’t love themselves more always seemed to stump him.

Papyrus hummed along softly to songs and grinned a little wider when the climax of the episode appeared. Occasionally his sockets would turn to peer at the other occupant, whose tired grin didn’t fade as he watched the episode along with him.

“I know him, did you know?” he grinned, looking over at Dust. The sudden comment seemed to surprise the smaller skeleton, who blinked and looked over at him with a furrowed brow. He paused for a minute, tilting his skull slightly from left to right as he thought, and gave a nod. “Yeah, I know that,” he rasped, looking back down at the lap top. “You don’t know him very well, though.” Papyrus was almost offended by that idea, until he thought about it a bit more. “Well, we don’t really hang out anymore. Nor did we ever hang out, to be honest,” he replied, his legs tucking in more as he adjusted the screen. “I see him occasionally, however. Mostly when Frisk enjoys bringing him around whenever he’s on his breaks. We don’t really talk.”

“You wish you were closer, huh?” Dust prodded, no longer looking at the screen, which Papyrus had paused so they could continue to talk. While Papyrus didn’t exactly have a whisper voice, he had turned down the volume significantly so they could chat without waking his brother; if he was in there, of course.

Papyrus gave a slight nod, a gloved hand coming to his face as he nodded slowly. It was almost like he was embarrassed about it. “While I certainly think it as a dream come true,” he hummed, “I have far to busy a schedule to arrange another friendship, especially after all the friends I already have on social media.”

Dust raised he tops of his sockets questioningly. “All twenty-five of them?” he mumbled, to which Papyrus gave him a quick blank stare. No real humor was detected in that statement, but it pestered him all the same. Papyrus crossed his arms in a classic grumpy manner; if he had lips, you could be sure they would be curled right about now. “You ability to know specifically private things is now becoming an annoyance,” he huffed. “How am I supposed to surprise you if I ever gave you a friendship hug from behind?”

Dust didn’t answer the question, knowing it was rhetorical anyways. “So why don’t you talk to him more?” he asked, continuing to pry about Mettaton. A flicker of minor disappointment hit Papyrus, seeing his attempt to divert the conversation had failed. Nonetheless, he responded accordingly. “Mettaton’s always busy,” he shrugged, fiddling with his red gloves. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt his highly involved schedule.” He moved to play the rest of the episode, but the not-Sans seemed to have more to say. “Well he’s in town this month isn’t he?” he pointed out, resting his hands in his own lap. “Why not talk to him the next time you see Frisk. I’m sure he’ll be there.” This suggestion only received a passing glance. “Wowie, all this pre-destined knowledge you’ve attained is making me wish I could see into the future, too,” Papyrus pouted, but his spirits soon lifted back to their usual jovial ways. “But if you insist, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind striking up a chat with someone as great as me!” He looked over at his smaller companion with a fond grin as he began to play the rest of the episode. “You’re quite the motivator, did you know that? You’re so very helpful, kind of like that phone Frisk has that stores up all those items. Alphys is currently making a few for all of us, so I’m excited for mine.”  

Upon the episode ending, he shut the laptop and put it to the side. “You’re also a good chat! I enjoy talking to you.”  

Dust’s faded grin twitched upwards slightly, letting out a small chuckle. “Thanks, Paps.” His eyelights shifted, focusing back up on him. “So can talk about why you’re in the closet?” He had a quick look around the closed space. “Any skeletons in your closet?”

Papyrus put a hand proudly to his chest, closing his sockets. “The Great Papyrus never has any skeletons in his closet!” He paused, looking to the side. “Well, except me, sometimes. And I suppose you now, too! Welcome to the great closet of Papyrus, then.”

Dust didn’t reply, awaiting his response. He didn’t seem impatient, however. Like everything about him, he just took it slow, as if he had all the time in the world to just sit there and wait for something that could possibly never come his way. Even Sans wasn’t ever this sedated. At least Sans had this small bounce to him that kept him on his toes to tell a pun or time a joke just right. Dust wasn’t like that. Everything about him was slowed down by a good hundred percent; even the way he blinked was sluggish.

Papyrus didn’t realize he hadn’t answered the question until the silence became more than apparent. Sans would have filled the void with a joke, but Dust seemed contempt to let it be.

“I’m not a big fan of naps,” Papyrus decided on, clasping his fingers together. “You may see others take hours and hours of naps as night, but I enjoy putting my time into better use.”  

Dust looked down at the laptop, but seemed to think of a better comment than the obvious. “Why don’t you like to sleep, Papyrus?” he asked.  

Papyrus watched him for a moment, deciding whether or not to actually answer such personal questions. He still valued his privacy, after all.

“Well, have you seen those lasers in Hotland? The lasers and conveyor belts?” he asked back, though he didn’t pause for an answer. “Those are my least favorite kinds of nightmares.”

Silence once again reigned, only interrupted by a soft chuckle from Dust, who seemed to find some humor in his comment. “Yeah. Nightmares. I get you. You had those a lot growing up, huh?” There was another chuckle, this time louder as he put a hand to his chest, rubbing at his sternum over his coat that Sans had (unknowingly) lent to him. Papyrus opened his mandible to possibly say something to him, but was soon interrupted when Dust looked up into his sockets, his grin spreading with a slight tremble. “D-do… do you think you’d sleep better if you had a bedtime story?” he whispered, his eyelights seeming to grow in brightness as he asked the question. This took the other by surprise, as he wasn’t expecting such a question. “A bedtime story?” he scoffed. “The Great Papyrus is in no need for a bedtime story. He can get himself to sleep whenever he wants to.”  

“But you’ll have nightmares again,” Dust pointed out, “like you always used to.” Papyrus paused, having to take his question into deep consideration, but ultimately shook his head. “No thank you,” he declined. “As much as I appreciate it, I’m past that. I haven’t had a bedtime story read to me since-“

“Since the Underground,” Dust finished for him, visibly shivering in the darkness of the closet. “Yeah… I understand.”

“You’re cold again,” Papyrus noted, taking hold of the skeleton’s humerus, causing him to jolt in surprise at the touch. Papyrus didn’t flinch, however, almost expecting this out of him every time. He took Dust’s trembling hand in his, covering it with his firm gloves, watching him lower his head and hug himself with his other arm until the shaking was reduced back to its minimum. Papyrus gently squeezed his hand, a comforting gesture to let him know he was going to be alright. “Why don’t we talk about you instead?” he offered. “After all, you woke up fairly quickly from your sleep. Why can’t you sleep? You always look tired after all, what with your shoulders all slumped and how slow you are. It’s like you’ve become lazier… but not really at the same time.”

Dust blinked, lowering his skull slightly as his eyelights seemed to dull slightly. “I just have too much to think about,” he murmured, bringing a hand back to bring his hood back up over his skull. “Too much for sleep, anyways. They like to keep me awake when I need rest, so I tend to skip sleep altogether.”

“‘They’? Who’s that?” Papyrus inquired, now curious as to who was keeping Dust awake. “If they are disturbing you from your busy schedule, you must tell them to politely back off of your beeswax.”

Dust couldn’t seem to help but chuckle at this, shaking his head as he rose a hand and placed it on his own sternum. “No one. Just my thoughts. They keep me up at night.” Papyrus slowly let go of his hand, but was surprised to find him still holding on tightly after he let go. He didn’t mind, however, instead using it as an opportunity to pull his friend towards him and into his lap, taking the surprised and stiffening Dust and wrapping his arms around him in a small hug. The smaller skeleton was slow to react, but soon responded by doing the same, resting his head against the other’s ribcage in a noticeably exhausted fashion.  

“When’s the last time you’ve slept?” Papyrus asked softly, keeping him close as he lessened the usually loud tone of his voice. To this, he didn’t receive an answer for several minutes, to which he was happy to wait for. It had to be no more than a couple of days. After all, he was almost an exact copy of Sans, and if he knew anything about copies of Sanses, it was that they liked to sleep. Sure, it was a bit of an annoyance, but it was Sans they were talking about. Papyrus had learned to accept it overtime, knowing his brother wouldn’t ever change unless the world might be ending. Even then, he might be too lazy to really do anything about it.

“I don’t know.”

Papyrus paused, taken aback by the answer. “Excuse me?” he replied, to which he got the same answer. “I don’t know.”  

It took Papyrus a few seconds to respond, unsure of how to even go about it.

“You… you don’t know the last time you slept?” he asked carefully, unsure of himself now. He felt his soul ache when Dust slowly nodded against his chest.  

“I can’t remember,” he rasped, closing his sockets as he spoke. “I… just don’t know.”

Papyrus didn’t speak. Memories of the dust pile and the bones flashed through his skull as he suddenly felt as weak as Dust right about then. An empathetic sadness filled his soul as his arms wrapped tighter around the smaller skeleton.  

“Would… a bedtime story help you rest easier?” he asked, pulling himself away some to look down at him properly. Dust visibly tensed, clearly surprised by the proposal. Nonetheless, he gave a slow nod, his lights of his sockets beginning to glow brighter once again. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he murmured, releasing his arms from Papyrus. However, it was Papyrus who refused to let go this time, taking a curt stand with Dust almost cradled in his arms as he made an exit out of the closet.  

Setting Dust gently on the edge of the bed, Papyrus looked over the bookshelf, before picking out a large, thin book and handing it over to his companion. “I would like this one, please,” he requested, before snuggling under the bedsheets with a small grin. “You can start at the beginning, or else it won’t make sense.”  

Dust looked down at the thin book, his sockets able to read the large, colorful title, even in the dark. However, he turned on the lamp on the nightstand, just so Papyrus could see the pictures. Papyrus always loved seeing the pictures. His grin widened as he turned the cover to the title page for the pajama-clad skeleton to properly see it’s imaginative colors.

“Peek-a-Boo with Fluffy Bunny,” he read aloud. He stopped for a moment, lowering his skull as if to take a deep breath. Papyrus waited with anticipation, no longer feeling the embarrassment he once had whenever thinking of this exact situation. He leaned forward, giving Dust a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, one hat was rewarded with a soft grin. Then, he began to read the book to Papyrus softly under the dull light of the shaded lamp.

“Anything you want. My treat.”

Undyne blinked in surprise and gave a hesitant nod, looking past the glass sheet and over the array of treats on display. Asgore set his eyes on the goods as well, though not actually looking for anything to snack on; he had too much on his mind right now. He teeth unconsciously chewed on the pocky in his mouth, the brittle top breaking off in his mouth.

Asgore wasn’t into relationships. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them or he didn’t need them, but he just didn’t have the motivation to really seek one out. His relationship with his sister was enough to drag him out of his room, and so that’s all he really needed. Or, so he thought.

Undyne brought a slow hand up to her hair, her fingers lathing onto a particular lock and tightening it around them. He took notice, glancing over to watch her twirl her hair. Did she always do that? He hadn’t ever noticed. Well, if we were being fair, there were tons of things he failed to notice. Sometimes it would be certain hints his sister would give off, or maybe the angry looks he got from the spiders when he hadn’t paid his tab in months, or such as he fact that Undyne, someone he had once worked with and had been best friends with for a few years, was totally into him.  

The fish in question seemed to catch his gaze, a nervous look appearing on her face as she quickly chose blueberry donut. “That one,” she murmured hurriedly. Asgore caught on pretty quickly, and gave her a pat on the back. “Hey, take your time. We’re not in a hurry,” he told her. She just shook her head and pointed to it again. “No, I’m sure of it.”

Now, when it came to his obliviousness, in his defense, Asgore had never really had an interest in her to begin with, but that was because he never really had an interest in anyone. He didn’t find her cute or attractive or particularly eye-catching, because he just wasn’t looking for something like that. He assumed she would have made a few gestures of affection or interest in the past, but anything she said probably went straight over his horns. It hadn’t been until his main plant Goldilocks had told him what’s up that he realized that, well, it was in his face the entire time. He needed a plant to tell him about an incoming relationship with someone he’d known for years.

“You’re not going to get anything?” Undyne asked, her brow furrowed in slight confusion and a bit of worry. Asgore just grinned with the pocky between his teeth, showing he was covered. That seemed to sate her, as she merely gave a nod and took the donut Muffet had pulled out for her, giving a quick thanks before heading over to a small, two-person table. However, her goat friend wasn’t having that. The small establishment seemed a bit crowded, so he made a gesture to the door. “Let’s go outside,” he suggested, already heading towards the door with a bit of a moonwalk. Undyne blinked in surprise and quickly followed him out, taking her treat with her as they exited the warm camaraderie of Muffet’s and into the colder environment of Snowdin. Still, despite the snow and the chilly atmosphere, the two felt oddly warm.

As Asgore led her away from the plaza where Muffet’s resided, his mind began to wander as always. He stole a glance back at her, the visible pink on her cheeks and her unwillingness to make eye contact with him only fueled his newly discovered drive to know more about her. Perhaps this was to make up for all the hints and gestures he had been so blinded to for so long. If he were to be completely honest, he had no attraction to her from the get go. He didn’t find her pretty or attractive or anything like that; she was just Undyne, his smart former coworker. Now, in his defense, he was like that with everyone, and he would mostly blame it on lack of motivation on his part and no interest from the other party.  

Undyne didn’t ask where they were going. Asgore stopped at the path to the ruin, taking a small exhale before continuing down the trail at a slower pace. A calm smile was placed over his face as he stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets. Undyne was directly next to him, looking around awkwardly as the silence let itself be known.  

The pair set out on a slow, quiet walk with each other, saying nothing to the other person. Undyne looked down at her treat, finally finding the urge to eat it. Her partner seemed to notice, and finished off the pocky that once stuck out of his mouth like a toothpick. She glanced back at Asgore for a few fleeting moments before starting to nibble at the donut. He watched her from the corner of his eye, noticing how she took such minuscule crumbs off the top. From personal experience, he knew she could completely pig out on any overly processed that was placed in front of her. Why was she attempting to be so refined in front of him? He noticed her tinted cheeks darken more when she seemed to catch his staring eyes. She turned her head away, seemingly embarrassed to be watched. She opened her mouth to say something, or perhaps it was to try to eat more of her treat, but she ended up snapping it shut as her insecurities caused her to mumble gibberish to herself. Asgore blinked, continuing to watch her. She was so flustered and awkward, especially when it came to a still silence. He found it to be oddly adorable, if not a bit inconvenient. He wasn’t good at starting conversation, but he luckily knew her well enough to know how to get her out of this flustered state.

Undyne felt a small weight press down on her donut, and in a moment of confusion, she swiftly turned her head just in time to see Asgore pulling his head away his cheeks full. She looked down at her donut to see a large chunk of the top mysteriously missing. She blinked, her mind quickly connecting the dots to figure out the mystery of her now rainbow-shaped pastry.

“Asgore!” she bleated, breaking out of her shy demeanor to look at her friend helplessly. He glanced at her casually, his teeth working furiously to try and get the bite down. “Wuh?” he mumbled, his words muffled by the mushed treat in his mouth. “You took a bite of- how could you?” she complained, staring back down at her donut with a look of helpless loss and an expression that conveyed her deepest regrets for not watching it closer. The accused goat feigned ignorance as per usual, quickly swallowing the chunk. “I donut know what you’re talking about,” he defended in a mockingly haughty tone, looking away with a raised nose and closed eyes. “You’re such a jerk sometimes,” she complained, giving his arm a light shove of mild annoyance, going back to snacking on her food, taking much bigger bites in case he tried to steal another bite.  

“What are you doughing?” he chuckled, watching her try to gobble the thing down. Her mouth worked to force the chunk down before speaking. “I’m not keeping his around while there’s a pastry thief on the loose,” she huffed playfully. 

“A thief? Why, I never, and all because I wanted a taste of your goods.”

“A taste of my-?”

“Exactly,” Asgore smiled, relaxing his shoulders as he looked away. Undyne just gave him a funny look and finished off her treat, swallowing it down quickly so she would be able to talk to him again. “So, how are things at he lab?” he started off, genuine curiosity fueling the sudden inquiry. “Fine, fine,” she sighed, smiling. “No no, that isn’t going to suffice,” he told her, refusing to accept that statement. “Give me more.” She looked at him with a confused yet amused expression, a giggle escaping her. “What are you talking about? Nothing really happened at the lab,” she promised. “Everything was just fine.” Asgore just narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I dunno… sounds pretty-“

“Fishy?” Undyne finished. The goat was forced to pause mid-pun, unsure how to respond now that he was foiled before he could even get the joke out. He was given a light nudge from Undyne, who grinned at him with pointed teeth that she didn’t show as often as she should. “We’ve how long have we worked together, Asgore?”

“Not long enough,” he sighed to himself, though it was low enough for Undyne to not notice.

“I’ve heard that joke from you so many times it doesn’t even register as a pun to me anymore,” she laughed, looking over at him with a cheerful grin. His soul lifted at the sight, a strange feeling for him. Perhaps it was because he finally realized he was with someone who laughed at his jokes and stayed with him for the sake of wanting to be around him. It put a feeling in his soul that he hadn’t felt in a long while. He didn’t exactly know if it was love, but he did know that he wanted to see her like this much more often.

Undyne looked down, still smiling to herself, before looking up and spotting something purple in the distance. “What’s that?” she said casually to Asgore, who gave a small “hmm?” as he looked up at the door. “Oh, that’s the door to the Ruins. Never seen them before?” She shook her head. “No,” she lied, deciding not to tell him how much she loved every single corny joke he gave to that door. “Ah. Well I tell jokes through there from time to time,” he said. “Y’know, knock knock jokes. You know just how much I-

“Adoor them?” she finished, granting her another surprised look and a playful nudge from the other as they turned around and headed back to Snowdin. “Okay, yeah, maybe you know me too well, okay?” he chuckled, looking over at her. “Is that a bad thing?” she asked, her cheeks darkening a little, going quiet as she felt a tad embarrassed. “Nah, ‘course not,” Asgore dismissed with a shake of his head. “No, it’s actually kind of adoorable, if you get what I mean.” Undyne flushed, her head turning to look away as she was unable to keep the stupid grin off of her face. Speaking of adorable…

“Hey, no, look at me,” Asgore encouraged softly, his own grin not fading as he was rewarded with her attention. “You should smile like that more,” he told her. “It looks great on you.” Undyne’s first instinct was to cradle her cheek as she attempted to hide her furious blush that practically covered her entire face at this point. “Ha, maybe I will,” she mumbled, looking away once again, her soul fluttering at his words.  

They rest of their walk back was like this, with silence becoming the norm once again, but it was far from awkward. Undyne felt happier than she had in years, and once they came to the border between their two homelands, both were upset they had to separate. Still, they didn’t let it get to them. Undyne turned to her friend, her confidence having grown since their walk. “I should go home. Thanks for the…”

Date.

“…trip to Muffet’s,” she smiled. “I really enjoyed it, and our walk, even if you did eat a good portion of my donut.” Asgore merely waved it off. “It was my pleasure,” he shrugged. “I enjoyed it, too. We should do something like this again sometime.” Undyne gave a nod, prompting him to start suggesting something. “Alright, how about we go on a…”

Date.

“…boat ride? The Riverperon’s pretty cool with letting people cruise,” he suggested. “Besides, I know how much you fish love water.  

Both were thinking it, but neither said it, just hoping it would just somehow be.

“Yeah, that’s be great,” Undyne agreed, letting out another soft giggle that made Asgore’s soul skip a beat. “Sweet. You have Wednesdays off, right? How about then?” he suggested, causing the other to give a quick nod. “Alright then. I’ll text you later, okay?” she told him as she began to head in the opposite direction. He gave her a small wave. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” he smiled, giving her one last wave before taking a shortcut back home.

That was surely an ordeal. He flopped back onto his mattress with a tired but happy sigh. He felt more complete somehow, as if that simple walk had really helped his soul. Maybe it just did. A weight wasn’t exactly lifted off of his shoulders, but he could feel as though his body was given more support. Maybe this would work out for the best.  

Grillby didn’t speak often. Many monsters chalked this up to the fact he didn’t ever speak English, the language of most monsters that inhabited the Underground. He could understand it just fine, but with the way he crackled and hissed his speech, being able to comprehend it was almost impossible on the listener’s part. Listening was easy, but talking was the problem.

He knew someone like that once.

Sure, he had Zuzu, his translator, but even still, he didn’t speak all that much. The bartender was certainly a demure one, preferring to listen to the chatter at the tables and the enjoy camaraderie within his bar. It was quiet some days and rowdy during others, but he’d have it no other way. He enjoyed his life as it was now. He had a nice cozy home within Snowdin and a beautiful daughter he loved more than anything, even if she could be a bit of a brat at times. He counted himself as lucky for being in his position, doing something he loved with people he enjoyed being around. Patrons ranged from all shapes and sizes, each of them with their own stories to tell and friendly greetings to everyone.

Still, there was someone missing, and yet always there.

One of his favorite patrons was Sans, and though the smaller monster had enough debt to sink an entire economy, he was still a good friend nonetheless. Sans was always the one to do the talking, making jokes and occasionally buying a drink and playing a prank. His favorite one had to be where Grillby would be distracted with grabbing a glass. Sans would always be quick to grab his drink and take a swig, immediately spitting out a short stream and onto Grillby’s flame, causing it to flare up wildly. The bartender would then turn around just in time to see the skeleton falling out of his chair as he died from laughter. As insufferable as he was, Grillby would admit that it was rather amusing. It wouldn’t be long, though, before Papyrus would inevitably come in and make a fuss about Sans spending all his time there. The smaller one would make a joke and the larger would get peeved and stomp his foot before leaving with Sans tucked under his arm. The cook always wondered how the two even lived together when they seemed to far apart personality wise. One was messy and playful while the other was kind and serious about his work. Still, it seemed to fit together in a familiar way.

It was like someone he used to know.

But he just couldn’t remember who.

There was another reason why Grillby didn’t speak much; he didn’t have much to talk about. Whenever he thought back, he could only see a blur that used to be his past. He could remember where he came from and his home, but as the memories went further, they seemed to muddle together and blur like watercolor whenever he thought back to those days. It confused him to no end, but over time, he had learned to ignore it. Still, it didn’t help whenever the patrons got a bit chatty.

“So Grillby, what brought you to Snowdin of all places? Isn’t that, like, the opposite of where fire monsters are supposed to be?” a customer would ask.

“He says that Waterfall is probably the real opposite,” Zuzu would reply for him.

“Yo Grillby! Where’d you end up learning English so well, anyways?” another curious drinker would ask.

“He says from someone who knows English,” Zuzu would shrug.

“Hey Grillbz, is there anyone else who can understand that crackling thing you do?” Sans has asked. “I’m sure they don’t think you’re too hot to handle.”

“He said that’s like the sixth time you’ve made that joke, Sans,” Zuzu had replied. “If you say it again, he’ll kick you out.”

Grillby didn’t enjoy having to avoid all these questions, but he really didn’t know how else to answer them. He found it easier for it just to not be said.

Still, he couldn’t help but snag onto those fragments of memories.

He used to talk, and he used to talk freely and as much as he liked, that much he knew. He would crackle out his laughter and lay back as he listened and spoke, but with who, he just didn’t know. It wasn’t that he was constantly being reminded, but that something wouldn’t let him forget.

During silent nights at the bar, as he was closing up, he couldn’t help but shiver whenever he felt a chill. He would look up and towards the window, and if he was fast enough, he could catch a glimpse of gray, maybe even a bit of black. He would move towards the window and look out, expecting to see a monster or two walking about, but it would stay silent and still. And so he would go back to setting up the bar silently, perhaps hum a tune to himself over the crackling of his own fire until he would eventually go home.

Sometimes he felt as though something was always waiting for him to come back. It was a silly thought, he knew, and so he preferred to keep it to himself.

“Aw, c’mon, Gri- hic! -llby! Just another round,” the drunk slurred, grinning in a half-pleading fashion as he nursed his already warm drink. He had been persisting at this for a good five minutes, and wasn’t about to lose when he still had G to spend. The bartender, however, was done. “I don’t want to hear it,” Grillby huffed, persisting on shooing the drunken monster away from his seat. The tipsy monster slurred something unintelligible before slipping and crashing out of his seat with a groan. The chair broke due to the force of the fall, breaking one of the small beams connecting the legs and causing a leg to crack into two. The flame felt his anger rise as he began to turn a deep shade of red, ready to finish the monster on the spot, but calmed himself just in time. Instead, he growled in frustration and bent down, grabbing the monster’s wallet. “For damages,” he grumbled, taking out the stash of G and tossing the emptied case back to the drunk still struggling to get up. He seemed sober enough to understand what had just happened, though, as his complaints were immediate. “H-hey! Gimme my m-moneeey back!” he slurred, wobbling on his two feet. “Oh please. You were going to waste it on booze, anyway. Probably going to get yourself killed as well,” Grillby sighed, storing the G away. “Besides, you’ve stayed way past your welcome and you broke my stool. I’d say you deserve it.” The bumbling fool stumbled toward him angrily. “You can’t do that!” he growled, looking as though he was preparing for an attack. However, he was caught off guard by Grillby grabbing him by the neck. “Listen, It’s five in the fucking morning,” he warned, his voice low. “I am done with all of you. Now get out!” And with that, he threw the monster out the front door, giving a huff as he went back inside, taking a moment to survey his establishment. It wasn’t as messy as some would think, but there would definitely be clean up involved. Might as well start now.

As Grillby was finishing picking up the place a good fifteen minutes later, he heard the doors open. A faint smile appeared in his flame as his hearing recognized the slow, stiff, almost calculated steps of his favorite patron.

“I don’t suppose you have a bit of time for one more drink, hmm? Perhaps two?” Gaster hummed, already taking a seat on one of the intact stools. The flame forgot about the broom he had been handling, dropping it off to the side to pay attention to something a tad more interesting. “Oh, only if you have the G,” he chuckled, moving to his place behind the counter, folding his arms on the counter. Tired red eyelights flicked up the the bartender, his left phalanges drumming rhythmically along the surface of the counter while his other hand fiddled with his dirtied coat, stained with a faint red here and there. “G? Well, I’m afraid I must have left my money at home,” he sighed, feigning sorrow. “Perhaps a trade would suffice?” With a small grin, the skeleton quickly pulled a glass bottle of liquor, the bottle itself rather thick and intricate in design. It must be something good. Grillby took it up, unable to help the smile that tore though his usually smooth surface. “Well, as much as I appreciate it, I am a bartender,” he chuckled, glancing away from the bottle. “Then let’s call it a… small gift, then,” Gaster compromised, waving a dismissive hand. “Besides, it’s one hundred ninety proof.” That seemed to catch the other’s interest. A higher proof alcohol was a treat for most heat-based monsters, as the drink contained more alcohol than it did any other substance they threw in. It was like drinking rubbing alcohol. “Really? Now how on earth did you get you slimy, bony fingers on something like this?” he asked, tempted to pop the bottle open for a sip right there, but decided to save it for a more special time, when he was feeling in the mood for a treat.  

“The trash heaps of Waterfall,” Gaster answered, folding his hands as he gave a small yawn to show his readiness to sleep on the spot. “Since you can’t exactly look yourself, I have to look for the both of us.” Grillby put the bottle in his inventory, the torn smile forming a smirk as he turned to pour the skeleton the usual: a small, square glass of Scotch, no ice. “Oh? Is the genius and evil Gaster becoming soft? Giving presents and such?” he teased, causing the skeleton to just roll his eyelights as he took his drink and had a few sips. “Nevermind you. So, how’s the bar?” he asked.

“Fine enough,” he replied. “How’s the lab? I see you’ve worked another tireless night.”

“Disastrous, but still successful all the same. How is the girl?”

“A brat as always. How are the boys?”

“Sans is being difficult with the tests, but otherwise fine. What’s with the broken stool.”

“A drunk. Nothing special. What’s with the red stains?”

“I’ve been experimenting with a new chemical. So a dull day for you?”

“Mostly,” he sighed. “But you know how I enjoy the business. Sure, there are a few annoying ones, but that’s natural. Besides, the day always tends to get better once you come along.” Gaster blinked and looked away for a moment as a smile grew, his skull flushing a tint of red. Once he had looked back at Grillby, he was slightly surprised to see him leaning in close, a devious smirk crossed over that face, with a wanting look in the eyes that topped over the glasses he wore. “I’m about to close up,” the flame informed. “Finish up and give me what I want, Gaster. Before we head out.” Gaster gave him a sly look, but was quick to comply, gulping down the rest of his drink before leaning in to meet him for a kiss. It lasted only a second, but the drug-like affect it seemed to have in the skeleton seemed to be proof of its work. Grillby seemed satisfied and began to close down the bar. Gaster followed suit, leaving his stool, straightening his coat, and waiting by the door for the other to be done.  

Soon enough, the bar was closed. It was almost six at this point, and Grillby was looking forward to a nice date with his bed after sending his girl to school. Gaster exited the establishment, with the purple fire monster in tow. However, just as Grillby had turned the last lock to the building, he blacked out for a moment.

The next thing he knew, all he could feel was pain. For once, he felt cold. Nothing but cold. He was lying in the snow, vision blurry, but he could still feel his own body diminishing with every second passing by. He could hear a muffled should of surprise, barely able to concentrate on anything anymore as he felt as if he was about to fall.

Gaster barely had time to process anything. One moment, he’s watching Grillby close up the bar, and the next, a monster appears from behind the corner and throws a bucket of water on them. Not even half a second later, he heard and unnatural, gurgled screech as his friend fell to the snow, the bright light that had once illuminated be dark space now fading, and fast.

From pure instinct, Gaster grabbed the soul of the perpetrator. He recognized the fiend as some drunken monster, a frequenter of the bar. That didn’t matter. His sockets flashed a deadly red, something large already forming behind him, and before the monster could even get a word or beg out, he was immediately incinerated by a summoned Gaster Blaster. Dust fell to the ground scattering in the snow.

Now onto more important matters.

Grillby was dying. His flames were barely even half his original size now, growing smaller and smaller as his body shut down from not being able to sustain itself the only real solid part was the purple soul, which was quickly beginning to fade into white from the cold snow. Gaster cursed loudly, scooped up the soul to try and keep it warm, and quickly wretched a piece of wood from the window frame, as anything on the ground would bee too wet. He hurriedly wiped it of snow and steadily placed it near the rapidly depleting flames of the discoloring soul.  

“Fucking hell, Grillby,” he whispered when the flames wouldn’t take to the wood at first. “You better not die on me. Please don’t die on me.” The flames still didn’t take. “I need you,” he whispered. “Your kids needs you. Don’t you did on me. Not now.”

Slowly, the tip of the wood began to blacken, a good sign. Eventually, the wood began to burn, and a small purple flame appeared on the end. Gaster gave a gasp of relief, quickly unlocking the door to the bar and shutting it with a slam; locking it. He moved at a brisk walk, shielding the small flame and soul with his hand so the wind wouldn’t blow them out. “Don’t worry, Grillby,” he whispered, moving to the broken stool and grabbing the shattered leg. “I won’t let you die. I’ve got you.” He grabbed the bottle of high proof alcohol he had gotten him, popping out the cork and dribbling it along the plank of wood, causing the fire to grow in size considerably. The soul was quickly placed in the fire to warm it. He added the leg to that fire, watching it slowly burn.

“I bet you really regret moving to Snowdin now, don’t you?” he grunted to the steadily growing fire. The soul was still a very faded purple, almost a soft lilac. Gaster’s soul gripped at the thought of Grillby having already fallen; he couldn’t lose him. Not now and not ever.

He got up to get more wood, and once he came back, he was shocked to see the soul even more discolored than before, a sign of a dying monster. He sat close to the fire, trying to stoke it as much as possible with wood and fire, but he soul wasn’t getting any better. Gaster wasn’t ready to give up, though.

“Y-you’re going to be fine,” he said to the flames, his voice shaking slightly. “I won’t let you die.” To his surprise, the flames rose a bit more. Gaster smiled. “I won’t let you die, Grillby. I need you,” he continued. “Me. Your daughter. We both need you.” Without much thought, he stuck his boned hands into the flames, gently wrapping around the dying soul with a gentleness he hadn’t shown in decades. “You’re safe with me. You’re going to live, or else I wouldn’t be able to live without you. You’re not dying on me. Not today.” Words like these were repeated, not minding the burning of his bones. To his glee, when he took another peek at the soul, some of the color was restored. This seemed to be doing the trick. He continued his words of assurance and devotion, feeling that once empty soul of his pulse once, almost in sync with the soul in his hands. “You’re not going to die,” he continued to whispered. “Not now. Not ever. I won’t let you.” He closed his sockets, a smile creeping up on his skull. “I need you just as much as you need me right now.”

Gaster leaned over the edge of the railings,  a cigarette to his teeth that filled his ribcage with smoke. Wisps of the gray vapor leaked from the openings of his white turtleneck, only to be lost in the air wavered by the Core’s heat. He let a sigh, the grin on his skull stretching more as his frame relaxed in the heat.

The day had been relatively sluggish for Gaster. With the Core long since completed, he found himself at ease for the past few month, years of overworking himself having taken its toll on his soul. As dull as they could be at times, he still enjoyed the slow days, his only real responsibilities being checking up on his assistants and the maintenance of his pride and joy. Despite his protest, Asgore had strictly ordered him to take it easy for now, wanting him to recover from almost killing himself from exhaustion. So, as of now, Gaster executed his responsibilities and made sure everything was in order. That was what he was doing this day, and he expected it to be just the same as any other day.

“It looks great, Doc,” his assistant commented, approaching his superior with a small smile on his face. A smaller rabbit monster from Snowdin, Cot was a cheerful and eager young mind, if not just a bit on the dull side when it came to large projects such as this. “Not a single pipe burst in nearly a month.” Gaster couldn’t help but grin to himself, leaning further onto the railing overlooking the magma pit that the entire structure was perched over. The hot material could be heard moving sluggishly through the pipes, being used to power the entire Underground. A feeling of pride welled up inside of him as he looked upon the well-running machines of Hotland, the fruits of his hard labor. “Everything is running smoothly,” he hummed, his magic spelling the symbols directly above him for the other to read. Everyone who knew the monster would have to be able to decipher these symbols if they truly wanted to communicate with him, as his natural dialect was almost indecipherable.  

“Go home,” he told his assistant. “You’ve earned it for today. I’ll wrap up with few more status checks of each focal point. Should only take a good fifteen minutes.” His assistant nodded dutifully before wishing him well and leaving for the day. Gaster watched him leave, finishing up his cigarette and crushing it between his phalanges. The heat didn’t bother him; it didn’t bother any skeleton, really, as their bones were rather tough and resistant to extreme temperatures. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the crumpled up filter into the heat below, soon to burn and be forgotten. He watched the scorching magma bubble and churn, finding a soothing comfort in it. It calmed him in a way.

As he had said he would, he made his rounds through the Core, making sure everything was in a perfect state before he could leave for the day and go home for a well deserved nap. However, just as he was about to hand up his lab coat and head for the door, he suddenly heard a loud thump in one of the pipes. Gaster jumped slightly and furrowed his brow ridge, looking over at the array of metal tubes that were used to transport the magma around the Core. His eyelights quickly inspected them for any trace of a collapse or dent in the sturdy metal, but it all looked clear. It must have just been a rock that had gotten caught in the flow of the lava, not yet molten by the heat. Perhaps it had fallen from the roof of the cavern, quickly sucked up by the pipes underneath the Core.

He let out a sigh and turned back around to grab his work satchel, when he heard it again. It was a loud thud, like something heavy had crashed into the inside of one of the large pipes, this time further down the system than before. It was as if the sound had moved with the flow of lava. However, when he checked again, there was no damage to the pipes, which is something a large rock would have cause should it have hit the metal with such force. Despite the lack of damage, his curiosity and worry grew and he decided to follow the pipes back to the center to see what exactly was causing the noise. His main guess as of now was that somehow a large rock had been sucked into the pipes and needed to be removed. It wouldn’t be the first time, but damn was it a pain.

As it turns out, he got his answer sooner than he had expected.

He followed the metal pipes at the same pace as the noises, the thumping slowly growing louder and louder with Gaster’s worry directly increasing as they went on. He prepared a few bones and magic hands in case something gave way. Pipe bursts were unexpected and needed to be fixed immediately lest they risk the Core becoming unstable, which would lead to power outages and just a general mess of a problem all around. Luckily, there were emergency cooling systems and tools all around.  

Funnily enough, everything seemed just fine, despite the banging.

Then, without warning, one of the pipes suddenly burst open, spewing out a torrent of magma. “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME-?!” In his surprise, Gaster was quick to block off the pipes using his magic, hand apparitions quickly grabbing tools and bolting the metal back into place as the emergency cooling systems were activated. Steams of water were sprayed down onto the pipe to cool the searing lava. Attempting to avoid the molting hot liquid, he stepped back, only to be surprised to see something moving about in the rapidly cooling magma and away from the water.

At first, Gaster thought something had caught on fire, until he saw the way it moved so rapidly, almost like an animal in panic. It glowed brightly with the rest of the liquid rock, and crashed into walls and pipes wildly before collapsing onto the floor, where Gaster could clearly get a good look at it.  

On the floor, clearly in a more humanoid shape, was a being made of bright orange and yellow fire, with its flame-shaped head flaring and flickering wildly. It had perfectly shaped limbs, and from the way it used them to cower and back away, Gaster could tell it was afraid. The scientist made quick work of the mess that was caused, before hurrying over to fire monster.  

The flame that was the monster’s head seemed to turn up to look at him, and in an instant it tried to scurry away. “Wait!” Gaster called out to him, despite his speech being incomprehensible. As expected, the fire monster didn’t even pause, scampering to get away as quickly as possible. It leapt up to its feet, stumbling a little, before dashing down the corridor in a flash of light. As soon as it passed a small plank of wood from earlier construction, the piece immediately caught fire, blazing brightly like it had been doused in gasoline. “Oh dear,” Gaster muttered to himself, quickly bolting after the other with lightning speed. What came next was a wild chase through the Core, everything the fire monster passed bursting into a roar of flames. The flaming spirit kept crashing into walls and pipes on accident in its endeavor to escape, lighting up the halls like a walking furnace. It wasn’t until he came to a dead end at the balcony was he forced to a stop, almost hurling himself over the railing in his haste to get away. Gaster stumbled onto the balcony that overlooked Hotland, his bones aching and his magic near depleted in his effort to put out each fire he had come across. The fire monster backed up against the railing, looking down at the drop as if to weigh its options. Gaster stopped in his tracks, afraid that any slight movement would provoke the flame to leap into the vast magma pit and never return. The fire crackled like a burning log, the flame of its head swinging wildly as it seemed to look around for another escape route. Gaster knew at this point that he needed to be cautious with his actions, as any sudden moves would provoke the fire to leap over the edge.

“Hello,” he said softly, catching the other’s attention. Although his speech was near indecipherable, he hoped the gentle tone of his voice would be able to calm to scared creature. “I’m not here to hurt you.”  

Crackles and hisses of the fire were more than audible as the skeleton observed the strange monster, a clear warning telling him to back away. Despite deciding to go through with approaching the fire monster, Gaster remained cautious slowly stepping forward as he continued to speak softly. “Do not fret. I’m of no danger to you.”

The monster stilled, presumably staring at him intently for anymore movement. Gaster did the same, making sure he didn’t want to rush it. “I know you’re afraid, but I don’t want to hurt you.” After a few moments, he stepped forward again. The monster’s reaction was violent, quickly raising a limb threateningly towards the scientist. Before Gaster could react, he was quickly hit by a ball of fire, causing him to stumble back in surprise as his coat and sweater burned. He was quick to put it out before the fire took any more of his HP. He looked up at the fire monster to see it preparing another attack, watching him carefully and waiting for him to take another step forward. Gaster held his breath, checking his stats to see where his HP was at. Surprisingly, the ball of fire only knocked off a single point, hardly doing any damage to him at all. A crackling hiss came from the fire, another warning for him to stay back.

Against his better judgement, Gaster only ignored  the message, stepping forward and raising his hands to try and reason with the other. Within an instant, another ball of fire was hurled towards him, but the scientist was quick to avoid it. This only caused the fire monster to panic, quickly shooting more bolts of flames at the skeleton in an attempt to get him to flee. This was to no avail however, for as even though Gaster wasn’t able to avoid all of it, he still continued to approach, and within seconds, he was mere feet away from him.

The monster hissed and crackled, preparing another attack, only to be stopped when Gaster quickly grabbed onto its forearms. The flames licked at his bones, already threatening to char them. He could feel his HP depleting ever so slowly just by grabbing onto it. The monster’s reaction was less than calm, trying with all its might to pull away with no results. So instead it shielded the flame of its head, almost like a child attempting to hide away by raising their arms above their head. Gaster could feel his soul soften at the motion, and with that his grip lessened. The flame was quickly to tug its arms away, cowering before the other. The skeleton frowned, placing a gentle hand on the other’s back in an attempt to calm him, and to his surprise, it seemed to be working. The monster seemingly looked up, though without clear indicators of features it was near impossible to tell. He decided to take this opportunity to try again once more.

“See?” he whispered softly. “I won’t hurt you.” He cautiously raised a hand to take the flame’s hand into his, grabbing it softly. He finally noticed that fingers were fully formed, the monster being a perfect model of a human made of fire. The flame was quick to tug its hand away, but on a second try, he wasn’t so reluctant. It even gripped Gaster’s hand back, no longer scorching the skeleton or lowering his HP. He exhaled in relief, glad he was able to calm the monster down. However, there were still more questions to be had.

“Now to find out what you are,” he sighed. “I’ve never seen anything like you before.”

It was quiet at the stations as always. Sans watched his brother storm back down the snow-covered bath, having just given the smaller his daily dose of berating and scolding. He tapped his fingers impatiently, waiting for Papyrus to disappear from sight. He quickly checked he time on his phone. He should have a few hours before he came back. Perfect.

Sans stepped away from the station, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way to the purple double doors. Once there, he pressed his back to the stone doors and slumped down, giving the stony exterior of the hollowed door a firm knock with the back of his fist. There was an immediate response.

“You’re late,” the woman on the other door huffed. “Yeah yeah, I was held up,” he dismissed with a wave. “Not everyone has as much free time as you do,” he huffed, bringing his knees up to his chest to rest his ulnas on. He found himself wondering if she took the same position, leading him to once again try to picture what she looked like. He imagined a larger woman, and thought she might possibly be a bear or maybe some sort of mammal, since she was all the way out in Snowdin. He knew she was old and had children, from what she described, so he imagined a bit on the weaker side, though the regal tone left him with doubts. He momentarily wondered what she thought he looked like. Neither of them ever described themselves to the other in a physical sense, since they had agreed on introductions once they met face to face one day. So for all he knew, she could just be a figment of his imagination. He’s rather not think of that.

“Your brother again?” she hummed, an amused tone to her voice. Sans gave a slight groan. “Of course it was. Who else? Boss just won’t give me a fuckin’ break. It’s not like anything happens on sentry duty, anyways. Usually I just take a shortcut away, but somehow that fucker always finds me.” He heard a giggle behind the doors and turned his head slightly to look at the stone. “Well then, your family tree must be a cactus.” Sans blinked in confusion, before a grin spread over his skull. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he goaded. “Because everyone on it is a prick!” He had to cover his mouth to hold back a chuckle. “Okay okay, ya got me there,” he chuckled, feeling his spirits lifting at the joke. “But I least you admit I’m as sharp as a thorn. You’re just pointless.” He heard her snicker from behind the doors. “Oh, my dear, you remind me so much of my former husband. Young, dumb, and-“

“Hung?” Sans chuckled. Apparently that one was a real show stopped, because she burst into laughter. He was pretty sure he could hear genuine tears in her roaring. He felt like his soul lifted at the sound and suddenly he didn’t feel like such garbage anymore. He chuckled along, waiting for her to finish so they could continue their conversation.

“Oh, I’m going to have to have to figure that one out for myself, aren’t I?” she finished with a chuckle, sounding out of breath. He rested his mandible on his arms, smirking to himself, and at the same time, at her. “That’s an invitation I’d gladly accept, lady. Any day. It’s been a while since I’ve been laid, after all.”

“Not much luck, lately?” she hummed with a giggle, a knowing tone in her voice. “Pfft, don’t you know it?” Sans scoffed, rolling his eyelights in annoyance at his own shitty track record. “Haven’t gotten any since Boss gave me this fuckin’ collar.” He lifted his skull and tugged at his own collar, a black leather with golden spikes that could really impale a mother fucker if need be. He’d pricked himself a few times, even though he was made completely of bone. He looked back at the door, awaiting a response for a good minute, but there was none.

“Uh, did ya fuckin’ die back there or somethin’? ‘Cause I thought we had a pretty nice thing goin’ on here, y’know?” he joked.

“You wear a collar?”

Sans froze for a moment, not expecting that response. He mentally smacked himself in the skull. For weeks they’d went back and forth, and this was the first time one of them let something slip about themselves. He gave a small huff and nodded to himself. “Yeah… yeah, I do,” he answered. “Boss gave it to me a year back or so.”

“Is that why you call your brother ‘Boss’?” she inquired. “Does he own you?”

“Wha- no!” he responded quickly. “No no, he’s just my brother, and only my brother.”  

“Then why the collar?”

“He just… worries about me, okay?” he sighed. “You know he’s captain of the Royal Guard. I’ve told you, right? Yeah. Captain. And I don’t have very much HP, so it’s just to get people to back off. That’s it.”

The response took a few moments.

“How much HP?” she asked. Sans opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself before he could say anything. What was he doing? He couldn’t just spill everything about himself to this stranger. Even if she sounded caring, he’d been duped before.

“Four hundred,” he finally decided on. That was fairly low, but it didn’t show himself as completely defenseless. “Oh,” was her response. She didn’t sound doubtful, so he guessed he pulled that lie off. However, without actually seeing her face. “Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s not much, but I’m working on it.”

“Are you okay?”  

He wasn’t expecting the question, and he froze for a moment, not knowing how to respond. He felt his soul tighten for a moment. The last person to ever really ask that was Papyrus, and that was almost a decade ago. “Yeah… I guess,” he answered slowly. “I’m just… going through a few things, y’know. That’s… that’s it.”

There was no response. He couldn’t stop himself when he continued.

“I’m just tired. Tired of everything. I just want to take a long nap. A long… long nap. Just to get away from everything.” He rubbed around his sockets, letting out a sigh. “You ever feel like that, old lady?”

Things continued to be silent. Then, he heard her stand up. He hadn’t gotten too personal, had he? What the fuck kind of question was that? Of course he had. He sighed and lowered his skull, rapping a fist on his skull. “Stupid stupid stupid,” he muttered.

“Would you like some pie?” he suddenly heard from the other end. He froze up for a moment, before his frame relaxed and he raised his skull. “You know what, lady? That sounds fantastic,” he sighed, his grin broadening. “Real fantastic.” He’d only tried her pie once, but fuck was it a treat to have. He assumed she had gotten up to go retrieve the slice of pie, and yet he was shocked into standing when he felt the doors begin to move. He backed up, expecting the doors to only move enough for her to fit a slice of pie through, but was wrong on that account as well. The door kept opening wider until he could fully gaze at the woman before him.

He was right on two aspects: she was a mammal-type monster, and boy, was she large. Large with white fur, small horns, red eyes, and black robes with a very familiar red symbol on the front.  

Sans felt his breathing hitch as he took a stepped back to take her in. Things were starting to piece together now. The secrecy, the regal tone, the motherly attitude; there was no doubt about it. He had been spouting off his problems to the former queen of the Underground.

Even so, he didn’t feel as petrified as he knew he should be. There was a certain comfort in finally meeting this person face to face. Only moments before, she had been laughing at his jokes and sympathizing with the problems he had poured from his soul. He felt as though he didn’t need to hide himself around her. Even when she slowly scanned him up and down, he felt a strange sense of comfort. He felt a warm feeling in his soul at the sight of her. She made him feel a sense of safety and warmth for the first time in a while, something a few dozen bottles of mustard and booze couldn’t accomplish.

And then she started laughing.  

His expression fell.

It didn’t start off as a giggle, either. She burst into howls of laughter taking a step closer towards him. Any warmth previously felt was lost, and he took a step back because of a fear he wasn’t willing to admit.

“Why, you’re so small!” she exclaimed in between bouts of laughter. It was true that he was about half her size, but he hadn’t bothered to notice how intimidating she looked until he saw those sharp claws reaching for him. She quickly lunged at him faster than he thought someone of her size could move, easily grabbing him and lifting him up with a hand around his cervical, just barely touching the collar. She could pick him up with one arm; despite him being half her size and rather rotund, he was still a skeleton and thus fairly light. Her laughter died out as one of her large hands wrapped around the base of his skull, gripping tightly. “Why, I think I could crush your skull in one hand,” she giggled, looking down at him as if he was some amusing pet. He growled in a newfound fear that struck his soul as he tried to push her away. She didn’t budge. Instead, she checked him, laughing even harder at what she saw. He felt even colder right then. He swore he couldn’t feel anything but a tight sensation in his soul. “I wonder what else you’ve lied about?” she hummed, those sharp claws skittering around his skull as he tried to control himself. “Surely not about your brother or your petty sentry job. Well, you weren’t lying about he collar, that’s for sure.” She grinned, exposing the length of those sharp canines as she observed more of them. “Or are you really as weak as you make yourself out to be?”

“I am not weak!” he hissed at her, his red eyelight flashing; it almost felt as though it was burning inside his skull. “Oh, my dear,” she purred, pressing her head against his. “If you hadn’t kept detailing every aspect of your life to a stranger, I might actually believe that. No, you’re just a pathetic little whelp, aren’t-“

The former queen stopped for a moment, looking up in surprise when she saw a levitating animal-like skull form out of thin air. It opened it’s sharp-toothed maw, a beam beginning to charge in its mouth. “Let me go. Now!” Sans barked, a sharpened bone forming in his hand, pointing the tip at her chest threateningly. She looked surprised, bit her expression donned that wicked grin once again in a matter of seconds. “Go ahead. I dare you,” she growled, leaning her face close to his as her grip tightened.

Sans had the blaster charge further, almost ready to fire. The tip of his bone pressed further against the queen, ready to sink in without a moment’s notice. She grinned even wider, goading him into taking the next step and hurting her. He got ready and…

And…

What was the point? He went limp in her arms. He already knew he couldn’t muster up the will to intentionally kill someone. He fell silent, the weapons disappearing into nothingness as he looked away. Anger was replaced by an empty feeling once again. “Alright. Go ahead,” he whispered, looking back at her. She gave a soft smirk down at him, but didn’t attack him as he first expected. Instead she brought him closer to her chest, her hands moving from around his cervical and skull to circling his spine and ribs, keeping him supported. “Just as I suspected, she sighed, moving back towards the doors. He blinked in confusion, wondering what shit she was trying to pull now. “What… are you…?” he mumbled.

“I’ve decided to keep you for a few days,” she hummed, closing the stone doors with one hand. “Keep… wah? No, I, Boss’ll kill me n’ I…” he weakly protested. She shook her head as she moved down a long hallway, humming as she gently rubbed his spine in an almost gentle sort of way. “Don’t worry about him right now,” she sighed. “You’re with me.”  

Sans flinched for a moment when he felt her hand touch the back of his cervical, but jolted when he felt a heavy weight drop off. She took up the collar and placed it in her inventory as she walked. “You won’t be needing this for a few days,” she hummed. He brought a hand up to feel the now naked area. “Lady… what are you doing?” he asked, attempting to lean back and look at her. “Oh, my dear Sans, just call me Toriel,” she told him, walking up a small flight of stairs.  

She planted a small kiss on the top of his skull. “Consider yourself mine for these next few days. Hopefully then you won’t be as tired. Understood?”

“What? What do you mean there’s no more nice cream?”  

“Sorry, little buddy. Don’t know what else to tell ya,” the Nice Cream Vendor replied to the complaining Origami monster. She just groaned and walked back into the resort. RG 01 chuckled as he watched, licking a bit more nice cream from the opening in his helmet. “Ha, I think we, like, took the last of the cream, bro,” he laughed, looking over at his partner. RG 02 gave a similar chuckle, taking a quick lick of his treat as well.

01 waited for a response, but none was given; it was just that chuckle. He gulped and looked away for a moment, that familiar nervous feeling crawling back up into his soul. He knew from three years of experience that 02 wasn’t much of a talker. He liked to listen most of the time and would respond occasionally when asked a question. Even when he did speak, it was always in long, drawn out responses, as if he was deciding what was carefully deciding what to say next each time he spoke. 01 didn’t mind doing most of the talking, since he had loads of topics on his mind. However, at this moment, he was blanking on what to say next to his new boyfriend. He tried to think of something to talk about or say.

“So, like, what’s your name?” he decided on, giving a small tilt of his head. 02 paused and looked over at him, his expression hidden by the darkness within the helmet. “You……. don’t know my name?” 01 froze for a moment, his eyes wide under his helmet. Well, they had been a couple for twenty-five minutes. That was long enough, he supposed. “We’ve…….. been partners for three years…….. You don’t know my name?” 01’s breathing hitched as he struggled to muster out an answer. “W-well, y’know, we’ve- uh… we’ve only called each other by, like, numbers for so long… heh, uh…” He froze up, before turning to his classic defense mechanism. “Ha! Fooled ya again, bro! Of course I know your name! It’s….. it’s… it’s like….”  

02 was silent for a moment. “You don’t know my name, do you?”

01 said nothing, for he had nothing to say.  

02 stared back, before giving a shrug and licking his nice cream. “Fair enough…... I never learned your name either…… You never told me it after all.” 01 wanted to just melt into a puddle right then and there. He sighed in relief, slumping his shoulders a bit from such a moment.

“My name’s Scales, by the way,” 02 said, taking the other by surprise a bit. “Scales?” 01 repeated, testing out it sounded from his own mouth. He liked it. “Huh. Scales. That’s cool, bro.”

The two were silent again for a moment as 01 awkwardly looked away, sticking the nice cream in his mouth to keep himself busy and to excuse himself from talking. Scales looked over at him again, seemingly staring at him from under his helmet. Oh god, what was it now. Still, 01 tried to play it cool as always.

“Getting tired of the cream, bro?” he chuckled. “We did, like, buy out an entire cart, after all. I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” Scaled looked down at the treat and shook his head. “No……... I still want to finish it.” He looked back up at 01. “Are you……. going to tell me your name?”

01 was getting ready to knock himself right out right then and there. He gave a nervous laugh. “Oh yeah, like, sorry about that, bro. Hah.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Radbit. My name’s Radbit.” Scales gave a slow nod. “Nice name,” he said simply, going back to eating his nice cream. “Yeah, yeah. Totally nice name,” Radbit chuckled, looking away for a moment.  

They were silent once again. Radbit finished his nice cream first, while Scales lagged behind by a few minutes, but eventually finished it. They sat in silence for a few moments, before one if them finally decided to speak up.

“You know… you don’t have to hold back around me, right?” Scales suddenly said, surprising his parter. “Huh? Like, what do you mean, bro?” he asked, feeling himself begin to sweat again. “You’ve never been this nervous….. before,” the dragon shrugged, clasping his hands together. “And I know you like me… and you know I feel the same way.” Radbit opened his mouth to speak, but his partner still had something to say. “I know you lie about your feelings… and you try to play it cool all the time…. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I want you to be honest with me.” He suddenly grabbed the other’s hand. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed anymore.”  

Radbit was definitely taken aback by his friend’s unusual amount of words. For someone so quiet, he must have been really passionate about this to speak so much about it. He found himself blushing under the mask, and on instinct, he brought a hand up to try and hide his embarrassing feelings, but stopped himself. For three years he had been crushing on his bro, and they were finally together. No more hiding.

Without another word, he took off the helmet that covered his face. Scales seemed taken aback, taking a moment to look over the orange bunny that presented himself to him. Then, without another word, he did he same, tugging off his own helmet, revealing his blue scales and large navy horns. This wasn’t the first time they had seen each other face to face, but damn it if it wasn’t the most special. Radbit once again found himself without words, but this time it was so he didn’t ruin this moment. Another thought came to his mind, and for a moment, he felt nothing but embarrassment at the idea, attempting to push it away. However, after a few moments, he decided to embrace his feelings. He wouldn’t hide how he felt anymore.