#pcpyrus

{ ... }

“Yeah, that was not random and creepy.“

{{YES}}

me

give me a hug brother

“aw, gee. c’mere, paps.”

With anticipation written all over his face, he spread his arms for an awkward sibling hug. He really was looking forward to the intimate gesture. And so were the whoopee cushions hidden beneath his shirt. 

The feline monster couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone could be so cheerful as this skeleton. And not only that, but so impressed by the menu, as well. Who the heck would be impressed by this awful menu? I mean, how grossly narcissistic wasn’t it to have a steak made in the shape of your own face? Mettaton really didn’t spare any expense at flaunting his goddamn self everywhere and in any form or shape whenever he had the chance. It was honestly disgusting.

At least that’s what BP told himself. In reality all this probably stemmed from a deep rooted jealousy of the robot, but he would never dream of admitting that to anyone, or himself.

All this went through the cat’s head before he had asked the skeleton if he was going to order something, giving the other some time to decide.

“A Glamburger. Gotcha.” The cat repeated with a sigh, before simply putting out his cigarette and throwing it in a garbage can nearby. He made his way inside the kitchen and soon enough came out with a Glamburger™ for the skeleton. How does skeletons even eat? Do they even have stomachs? Whatever. As long as the skeleton paid and would be on his merry way after getting his order BP didn’t care.

“Here is your order, O customer!” He forced a smile, pushing the tray with the food on over the counter to the skeleton.

      Whoops..

Another complaint, another response written. Another open invoice, another calculation made. And yet the reams of paperwork that piled up on the desk space next to the skeleton never seemed to decrease, had developed into something of a personal nemesis to the former scientist, sentry, and hot-dog vendor. 

Fortunately, Sans had never minded working hard, had he been given a reason to. Unfortunately, however, he hadn't been given a reason to in heaven knew how long. But who could have blamed him? After all, what was the point in placing effort into something that one knew eventually would come undone, anyway. Well, he'd get over that overarching feeling of meaninglessness for now, at least for Papyrus sake. 

With the pencil scratching across the paper as it spouted one final screech of protest, Sans signed yet another document, before finally putting down the writing utensil, a reminiscing expression spreading across his face. Yes, occupying multiple jobs, or rather multiple legally required breaks, at once had been a blast, but spending time with his younger sibling while calibrating traps or engaging in carefree banter, that was what the monster truly missed. Nowadays, there was hardly any time for them to spare, and, what little time they had, Sans mostly spent being concerned for his brother's deteriorating idealism and hope. 

Why did it take so long for the anomaly to reset, to aim for a different, hopefully, better outcome? Maybe he had overestimated the power of a single phone call. What had made him think, that the human possessed enough decency to feel empathy or guilt for Papyrus after what they had done to Undyne, Mettaton, Asgore ... and the old lady, in the first place? Right, counting on the conscience of a being like that was utterly futile, ridiculous. But counting on their curiosity? The idea sent a shiver down his spine, making him uncomfortable. Perhaps, it was better they didn't come back. 

Pushing away the chair he'd been sitting on, he slid down, stretched his sore bones before making his way to the room's projecting door. He'd finish the remaining paperwork later today. For the moment, he really wanted to check on Papyrus, the involuntary king of the Underground. Adopting that casual signature attitude of his just as if they had been still in Snowdin, when everything had been fun and games, he strolled down the castle's corridors with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

Only when he reached the throne room, he came to a halt. Peeking inside he made sure his brother was actually present there; wasn't spending his day in the kitchen, cooking his infamous spaghetti instead. Luckily, his first assumption proved to be true. “hey, bro.” He entered the hall and let his eyes wander over the luxurious interior. As expected, The taller skeleton was seated on the majestic throne, his phone close by. Had he been trying to call Undyne again? He looked defeated, either way. 

Stepping up to the other, Sans flopped his back against the much bigger armchair, as he peered at the golden flowers that edged his feet, filled the air with their soothing scent that only reeked of peace and quiet. No wonder Asgore had loved them so much. But Asgore was dead, and the skeleton himself didn't hold much affection for either tea nor wishful thinking.

Eyelights averting from the nostalgic sight, they moved on to focus on the younger sibling once more, no hints of worry marking the imperturbable poker face that glanced up at the other. "you ok? not gonna lie, you look like something's rattled your bones pretty badly." He winked. Half-heartedly. Papyrus sadness wasn’t funny. Nothing about their situation was funny.