Coffee and Chaos

by MushroomSoupScentedShampoo

Summary:

When one of your parents passes away, you get the short straw when it comes to inheritance: you get to take over mommy's landlord duties. Making friends with the tenants should be easy, right?

...featuring the Underfell bros. I can't promise much, whether that be length or quality, but I can compensate with overcomplicated analogies and a few niche internet allusions.

READER USES HE/THEY. If this is not your thing, do not proceed.

ONGOING - I post like every three months (so it's technically slow-burn...?)

Chapter 1: Spills

Notes:

Clarification: reader has two moms. One is called Mom and one is called Mama. (Both are sometimes referred to as Mom, Mommy, etc.)

At Mom's funeral, pretty much everything fell apart. Your Mama was a sobbing mess, probably about the polar opposite of you. You had tried to let the weight of her wife's sudden yet expected death show in your face, but your tendency to internalize didn't help. You were sad, of course, and your memories of her had been wonderful. Your current schedule just didn't really allow you time to mourn. The urge to cry for her came up once in a while, on groggier, more gray mornings, but it never occurred to you to really let her go. Actually, that wasn't true. You'd been mentally preparing for this since they found the tumor, so it made sense that your tear ducts were being a bit useless. Cancer was a bitch.

You all knew she was going to die. Mama's anger was worse than her sorrow because it hurt everyone. Mourning was meant to be a "together" thing. Anger was still her preferred coping mechanism. You knew how to deal with either. One was just easier than the other. You could comfort her to the best of your ability, but she would still be angry with you for not crying as hard as she or your brother did. You didn't bother telling her how many nights you’d stayed awake wishing she weren't already half gone. You knew that wouldn't help. So you just comforted her.

The will had been pretty basic, as far as wills go. Your mom's late stage diagnosis hadn't left her very much time to get her affairs in order, meaning the house she was renting out to a pair of monsters was still not taken care of. She had said at some point that she wanted to eventually sell the house to them, but never made a move to do it. Kind of a dick move, to go and die on them after offering to sell them a house, you joked to yourself. It was even more of a dick move to leave the house to you, a financially unstable heir that did NOT have the money to take over her landlord duties. Not only did she leave you the house she was renting out, but she left your brother with the life insurance check. You thought it was a joke at first, but the look on your Mama's face when she explained the situation to you was dead serious, pun not intended.

Apparently, your moms had only planned on dying of natural causes. Because that didn't exactly happen, and neither of them thought to update their wills when one of them was diagnosed with late stage cancer, their "elaborate" plan fell apart. So, flash forward to the funeral, which was also still falling apart. Mama was screaming at your brother and crying. He's crying. You're trying to answer a phone call from an unknown number because, hey, it might be the renters, and Mom's second-cousin-thrice-removed-or-whatever-the-fuck is shushing all of you, so your thirteen-year-old cousin giving the obituary can be heard by the rest of the family. You end up just leaving the venue and going outside, because dealing with angry renters is probably less stressful than anything that’s going on inside.

Your phone was still ringing, though. You figure you should probably pick up.

"Hello?"

"hey. uh, look, the primary emergency contact for our landlord wasn't picking up, so we had ta call this number instead."

"Ah. That would make sense. The landlord is dead, and the primary contact is at her funeral."

"oh. yikes. sorry 'bout that, should i call ya back later?"

"No, it’s okay! I honestly needed a reason to get away. What's the emergency?"

“uh. well.”

On the other side of the line, the renter was staring at the ceiling of the first floor. Water was pouring out of three separate lights in the kitchen, as well as another in the living room.

”my brother started takin’ a shower a couple minutes ago and i can’t figure out whether ta call a plumber or an electrician.” He scratched the back of his head. “can ya come down here, by any chance?”

You sighed. “I can be there in twenty minutes. I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way.”

To be honest, you could have gotten there in five minutes. Leaving the funeral unannounced might raise alarm, so you stepped inside to tell one of the few family members not crying or screaming that you were heading out. You felt guilty for putting the burden of telling your Mama you’d left on someone else, but an emergency was an emergency, and if Mama couldn’t take care of it, it was your responsibility.

You were able to leave in just under five minutes, and the short drive meant you got there earlier than you’d told the renter. When you pulled in, you realized you’d forgotten to text them. You weren’t too worried about it. You got out of your car, slammed the door, and rang the doorbell, before noticing a little sign underneath it. You bent down to take a look. The sign read, ‘doorbell broken, please knock.’ The little piece of paper taped to the wall was torn around the edges, and had some water damage, like it had been there for a while. You could forgive your Mom for not replacing the doorbell, but the sign looked like it had been there for a while. You lifted it up. The bricks behind it were darker. The sun had washed out the area around the sign, leaving a silhouette of the tiny piece of paper. It would have had to be there for years, to leave a mark like that.

Considering the issue you were here for, as well as the broken doorbell, it occurred to you that your Mom may have been a shitty landlord.

Someone answered the door. You stood and brushed yourself off (though there wasn’t anything to brush off, really) in an attempt to regain your dignity. He had just caught you in a squat, looking at a faded sticky note.

The guy was short, a skeleton monster, and dressed like an edgy teenager. It reminded you of how your brother dressed in high school, before he became a preppy asshole. Well, before he was preppy, at least. The asshole bit wasn’t anything new. The monster noticed you giving him a once-over and cleared his throat. You startled.

“Sorry. I’m here to help!” You offered your hand and introduced yourself.

He stuck his out as well. “the name’s sans.” He had a rubber glove on. It was wet. You grimaced and shook your head. You were not touching that. He laughed. “come on in.”

He led you to the kitchen, where the lights were off. You moved to turn them on, but he reached to stop you.

”the lights ain’t really the problem here,” he chuckled. “watch the ceiling till i come back.” He turned around to go up the stairs. You heard the water start running. Everything seemed normal, until water started pouring out of the lights. The water stopped and he came back downstairs.

”it’s in the living room, too.”

“Has this happened before?” You asked. He shook his head, slowly, before nodding vigorously.

”only once. i adjusted the shower head in the middle of a shower and it started comin’ down on my bro’s head. i got a kick out of it. he sure as hell didn’t.” He chuckled. “but that’s the only time i can think of it happening.”

You remembered that something similar had happened at your own house. You’d been in high school at the time. Replacing the shower head and bathtub faucet had fixed it, at least until a plumber was able to come out and figure out what was actually causing it.

”You might have to avoid taking showers for a while. I think it might have to do with the bath or shower pipe getting pinched. Something similar happened to me once. Maybe try replacing the faucets?”

”we did. it fixed it for a while, but then this happened again.”

”Maybe they’re clogged, then. I’m no plumber, but I’d be happy to hire one to come check it out.”

“ya don’t gotta do that.”

”Actually, I think I do.. my mom left the house to me in her will. Don’t worry, I’m not kicking you guys out, or anything. Nothing really changed, except maintenance is my responsibility now. Still, I’m kind of new to this. Did my Mom usually split the bill with you guys, or just pay for maintenance herself?”

He looked shocked. ”neither. she usually had us pay for it.”

”Oh. Well, does splitting the bill sound okay, then? I can schedule a plumber to visit or something. Let me know what date and time work best for you, and we’ll be golden.”

”wow, uh, thanks? i’d honestly prefer if they were here while i’m out. less awkward that way. so on a weekday, in the afternoon, might work best.”

”Okay! I’ll see what I can do. Can I get your number so I can warn you before the plumber shows up?”

“‘course you can get my number,” he grinned. You handed him your phone with the Contacts app open. He put in the number and handed the phone back to you. You sent him a ‘hello’ text so he could get your number on his phone, too. He responded with a waving emoji. You huffed a breath of air out of your nose in a pseudo-laugh and sent a shower emoji in response. That got a chuckle out of him. You both put your phones away.

“It was nice meeting you, even if it was under weird circumstances.”

He grinned. “nice meetin’ you, too, sweetheart. hope i’ll be seein’ ya around more often.” He stuck out his hand (gloveless, this time, thank god) and you shook it firmly before heading out the front door. You got into your car and drove off. It would be a cold day in hell before you went back to the funeral, so you ended up just driving home.

Being angry at a dead person may have been pointless, even if they did pull several asshole-ish moves on the people they were renting the home out to. Though you had no clue the duties of a landlord, you were convinced that making the residents pay to keep up with issues like these wasn’t a normal thing. You made a mental note to do more research about your new, second job. After your power nap, of course.

Once you got home, the plan to take a short nap went completely out of the window. Apparently, someone had canceled on your boss super last-minute, and you had to cover their shift. You cursed yourself for being the only reliable employee and prayed your boss would pay you for covering for them. They treated you pretty well there, so you were surprised when you showed up and your manager was Freaking Out, patent pending.

”Thank goodness you’re here. We just had a customer walk out because they said they waited too long. Then Tyler screwed up an order and the customer had an allergic reaction. Do you have your Epipen?”

You sighed. “You’re paying for my replacement.” You half-joked. She probably wouldn’t.

Once the customer had been taken care of, they left with their friend. You were pretty sure you heard them mutter something nasty under their breath about small businesses, to which you mentally gave them the finger.

Your manager filled you in. It had been a pretty busy day, up until Tyler had screwed it up. Regulars were still trickling in, but there weren’t a lot of new customers after the incident. That wasn’t anything new, though. Growing a business took a while, so hopefully, the disgruntled customer wouldn’t leave a horrible review. You had shown up at just the right time.

“You need to get Tyler fired. Even if it wasn’t a severe reaction, stuff like this hurts all of us.”

Your manager shrugged the comment off.

“I need the hands, and despite his flaws, I need Tyler. He works fast and the people love him… most of the time.”

“If you say so.”

She made sure you had it under control, and then she left. A good portion of the regulars there were monsters, considering that the little coffee shop was one of the few in town that offered versions of everything infused with magic. Monsters had trouble digesting human food, and they were more than grateful to have a decently priced option. They were a little more rude than their human counterparts, but they frequently defended you when there was an angry human customer involved. It was like having bodyguards. It always made your job a lot easier.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. A skeleton monster, the near antithesis of your renter, walked through the door. His presence made the room go almost silent. His long, confident strides made it appear he thought he owned the place. He stepped up behind the counter with a thumb on his chin, pondering what he might order. His face lit up - he must have noticed the monster-friendly options.

He cleared his throat and stepped closer to the counter.

“What can I get for you today?” You asked, cringing at your automatic customer-service voice.

“I’m not sure. What might you recommend?”

He had a commanding voice. The entire cafe turned to look at him when he spoke.

“One of my favorites is the Chai Tea Latte. I usually get it with soy milk.”

“Okay. I’ll have that. What was it? A Kite Elongate with soy?”

“Yeah, something like that. That’ll be $3.59. Will that be cash or card?”

“Cash.” he said, pulling out his wallet. You rang up the price.

“What’s the name for your order?”

“The Great and T-” he stopped and coughed. “errm, Papyrus.”

“The Great Papyrus it is,” you smiled and wrote it down in loopy lettering.

He looked up at the ceiling and played with the end of his scarf, before remembering he still had to pay. He fumbled with his wallet and handed you a 5 dollar bill. You handed him his change, and told Tyler what he’d ordered.

“The Great Papyrus?” Tyler called out a few minutes later.

“Yes. That’s me.” he rolled his eyes.

Papyrus picked up the drink and inspected it before taking a long sip. He started walking away before you could gauge his reaction. From the way he was chugging the thing, though, you guessed he probably liked it. He didn’t sit down to drink it in the store. When he left, the conversations and small talk resumed.

“Who was that guy?” you asked Tyler over your shoulder.

“I don’t know. Everyone else seems to, though. To know him, I mean. You could’ve heard a pin drop in here.”

“I guess so. He seemed nice.” you shrugged.

Tyler gave you a ‘wtf’ look. You pretended not to see. The bell above the door rang again.

It was Papyrus.

“I forgot to ask for a to-go cup.” he said, practically running to the counter. It was still half-full. He tripped over something.

In a way that was reminiscent of the bullet-dodging scene in The Matrix, you watched the droplets of the latte scatter through the air toward you. You, unfortunately, did not have the super speed of Thomas A. Anderson you would need to dodge the (probably) still scalding droplets. Tyler tried to grab you and pull you out of the way as the brownish liquid cascaded down your uniform. Despite his efforts, Tyler ended up in the splash zone himself. The aftermath was nothing short of flustering for all three parties.

“I am so sorry.” Papyrus said quietly. “Usually I am not this…”

“Clumsy?” You joked. You weren’t exactly trying to sound bitter, but the jab didn’t come off as professionally as you would have liked.

“...Cumbersome, yes.”

“Do you need a replacement drink? It’ll take a while, since I have to change this, but I’m sure Tyler would be happy to make you another. In a to-go cup, this time.” You shot Tyler a glare. He averted your gaze and started making Papyrus’ replacement. Your words had been far too clipped and high-pitched not to sound just as upset as you were.

“No, really, you don’t have to-”

“It’s no problem. This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“If you insist,” he said. “I’m not asking you to make it for free, though.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out another 5 dollar bill. He placed it on the counter.

“Thank you.” You said, forcing a smile. “I’ll be right back, Tyler. You know what to do.”

You pushed past Tyler, not bothering to grab the money from the counter to put in the register. You headed to the back of the store and closed the door behind you. You just needed a minute. Just one minute.

You sat down and took deep breaths for a while to calm yourself down. This was fine. You just had to get a new apron and wash the one drowning in half-finished Chai Tea Latte when you got home. You waited a few more minutes before folding up the apron and leaving it in the room.

When you came back out, Papyrus was sitting alone at one of the tables. You recalled asking Tyler to get him a to-go cup, then noticed the little paper cup Papyrus was refusing to look at. He seemed dead-set on making eye contact with his shoes. You made your way back to the register and brushed yourself off. Not awkward at all.

The rest of your shift went pretty well, aside from trying to ignore that Papyrus was neither moving to finish his drink nor leave. Only a few more people ordered before it was time to start closing. You made your way from table to table to start cleaning up. Tyler had already clocked out - he hated closing, and usually left you to do it - so it was just you and Papyrus in the cafe. You reminded yourself to kick Tyler’s ass later for abandoning you with both the nightly duties and the knight in awkward armor. You didn’t want to be the one to initiate conversation, but Papyrus appeared to be glued to the table. Time for the armor of awkwardness to shine.

You tapped his shoulder twice. “Hey, I’m gonna finish closing soon. Are you gonna stay here all night, or…”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He stood up to leave, and then sat back down quickly. “I. Um. Would like to apologize. For earlier.”

“It’s okay, really,” you sighed. “Seriously, it happens all the time. Just not usually so… dramatically.”

Papyrus winced.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. It was one hell of a first impression.” you joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. “But seriously, you should get going. My manager might kill me if she knew I made an exception and let someone stay past closing time.”

“Sorry.” He sighed and stood. He started walking away, but he stopped to look over his shoulder at you. “I enjoyed the drink, by the way. Before I- never mind.” He pushed through the door and shuffled to his car. Huh.

You’d never live that down. In fact, neither would he, probably. You started to clean up his area. It was pretty pristine, with only a little ring of water left on the table from where the cup had been. He’d thrown it away already. He’d left a tip underneath the napkin holder.

After you wrapped everything up, you locked the store’s door behind you and headed to your car. You had a slew of notifications on your phone that you didn’t feel like checking. You got in, threw the ruined apron in the backseat, and drove home. Once you got there, you figured you probably should check out those notifications. The most recent one was a text from Sans. You opened that one first.

 

sans
u gotta teach me how to make those lattes.

 

You shut the phone off and gently set it face-down on the nearest countertop. You had an apron to wash.

Chapter 2: Boba

Summary:

Boba. And plumbing. And... lots of dialogue.

(changed the rating because swear words)

You had four alarms. The first one was two hours before you were supposed to wake up. It served as a way for you to allow yourself to “sleep in.” You figured if your first alarm was at an ungodly hour, it mentally prepared you for the other three. It usually worked. By the second or third one, you were usually pretty much ready to wake up and get ready for the day, with plenty of time to spare. The purpose of the fourth alarm was just insurance. It was a last-minute, if-you’re-not-awake-you’re-screwed type of alarm. It was only really there if, due to some unfortunate decisions made the previous night, the first three did not wake you. Your foresight was truly a thing to be admired. Unfortunately, your tendency toward forgetfulness balanced it out.

This morning, the emergency insurance alarm was not set. Neither were the first three. What had eventually woken you was a text from Sans.

 

sans
yo the plumber came way too early, wanna meet up & chat? i need an excuse to get outta here. the awkward is choking me.

 

you
u dont even habe lungs lol
**have

 

sans
har har. its ok if u dont wanna

 

you
i’ll be there in twenty.

 

sans
thx i owe u 1

 

Getting ready on time relied completely on your internal clock. You thanked the universe for your near flawless concept of time.

Right as the drowsiness had started creeping into your vision (and your judgment) last night, you’d gotten a text from the skeleton, saying he’d gone ahead and called a plumber in for the next day. He had told you, as well as the plumber, the checkup was to be scheduled for 5pm. Apparently, the plumber had misunderstood and came at 5am. Sans didn’t have the heart to tell him to come back later, hence the impromptu meetup.

You threw on your very best; a lightly worn hoodie that could probably afford a wash, and a pair of sweatpants from the depths of your laundry pile. They didn’t smell bad enough to be considered completely disgusting, but you had more dignity than was worth the comfort. A pair of light-wash jeans replaced the lightly worn sweatpants. Getting on the road was just a matter of rubbing the sand out of your eyes. Once the blur of sleepy vision was gone, you deemed it safe to drive.

Recalling Sans’ address from the other day was easy. Deciding how to let him know you were there was another matter. Just when you’d settled on sending him an “I’m here!” text, the front door of the rental home opened. The stout skeleton was not dressed much differently than you, aside from a pair of basketball shorts in place of the jeans you’d opted for. He attempted to open your car door. It was locked. He threw his head back in a laugh, soundlessly, because the door and window were, still, closed. You scrambled to unlock your car and let him in. He flopped into the seat, still chuckling to himself.

“Sorry!! I always forget to do that.”

“hey, no harm done.” he pulled out his phone. “where are we headed?”

“I don’t know! There’s a few different coffee shops around here, including the one I work at. I know Starbucks has a pretty great cold brew.”

“little chilly out for a cold drink,” he commented, not looking up from his phone. You snorted.

“Funny you should mention temperature adversity, considering you’ve got no skin.”

Sans placed a hand on his chest and made a face of mock-being-hurt. “i’m skinless, not soulless. i can still feel stuff.”

“Huh. I’ll keep that in mind next time I talk to Papyrus. I hope he’s okay. He spilled some of that drink on himself, too. I think.”

“oh, him? nah, he’s fine. he’ll survive a little dent in his pride. and a stain or two.”

“Are you two always that good at first impressions?” you joked.

“only always.” He shot you a grin, looking up from his phone. “usually people are scared. or angry.” He looked back down. “hey, there’s a starbucks not far from here.”

“Okay! You navigate, I’ll drive.”

“uh. is today, like, a holiday?” he asked, flicking his eyes between you and his phone.

“Maybe? I’ve got my days all backwards. Too many eight-hour shifts this week. Why?”

“every starbucks in, like, a 20 mile radius is closed.”

“What? Why?”

“hold on, i’m looking it up.” he paused. His thumbs clacked loudly while he typed. You wondered how the phone even detected his fingers. A question for another day. “looks like one of their new menu items was causing mass food poisoning, or something. they have to shut down for a day or two to throw it all out.”

“Wow. Talk about inconvenience.”

“does it have to be a starbucks? we could find a local cafe, like yours.”

“I mean, we don’t have to get coffee. I think there’s a library nearby where we could just sit and chat.”

“aren’t libraries supposed to be quiet?”

“Good point. Oh! I’ve got it. Have you ever had boba?”

“not that i know of.”

“I know a place with great tea. Okay, type Tea Cave into your GPS and it should show up. I think I know the way there, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little help.”

“sure thing, boss.” More clacking. “we’re a few miles away. should only be a few minutes.”

With near flawless verbal direction-giving from Sans (and only one U-turn), you made it to Tea Cave in under ten minutes. Parking was surprisingly less of a hassle than usual. The lot at this particular strip mall was usually pretty busy, being as it was directly across from a high school. You got out, locked the car, and headed toward the tea shop with Sans.

“no fuckin’ way.”

“What?”

“yer not gonna believe this. ‘s not open on Mondays.”

“Seriously? I’ve been getting drinks here for years, there’s no way they’re-”

“look at the sign, bud.” He pointed at a paper sign. It was taped to the door and directly in front of your disbelieving face. “weekends, open 9am to 9pm. weekdays, open 8am to 10pm. mondays, closed.”

“I am in utter shock.” Sans laughed.

“hey, that’s ok. i’d rather be driving around and looking for a drink than at home trying to make conversation with a stranger who sticks his hand in people’s toilets for money.”

“Hey, plumbing is a complex and interesting profession.” You punched him in the arm. He laughed.

“didn’t say it wasn’t. it’s the awkward, obligatory, polite conversation i hate.”

“Fair enough.” you shrugged. “Do you still want to try boba?”

“i’m not a huge fan of balls in my drinks, but i’ll try anything once.”

“When you put it like that, it makes me feel inclined to like you a little bit less.” That got a snicker out of him. “I think there’s another tea shop pretty close by, actually. Let’s get back in the car where it’s warmer, and we can continue our investigation there.”

“sounds like a plan.”

You spent the next ten minutes driving around in circles and looking for the apparently elusive tea shop. This one was on the side of the highway, and had about the same layout as Tea Cave. Better yet - it was open.

“whoa, just got a text from the plumbing guy. that was fast.” Sans announced. “turns out that when we got our roof fixed from the storm a couple weeks back the guys never replaced a pretty important part of our severely outdated water heater. we’re lucky it ain’t blown up yet.”

“Seriously? You’d think they’d be a little more careful with such a dangerous piece of equipment!”

“you’d think so, huh?” he chuckled dryly. “eh, nobody’s perfect. i’m alive, paps is alive, i can’t complain about that.”

“Fair, yeah. Looks like we’re almost there,” you commented.

“you’ll turn left at the next light.” Sans said.

“Turn left,” the navigation’s voice called out. Sans scrunched up his face.

“that’s what i fuckin’ said.” You laughed. “‘s like a damn competition or something.”

You hunched over the wheel to get a better look out of the car at the oncoming traffic. Sans shot you a saucy wink, before realizing you weren’t, in fact, looking at him, but out of the window. He scooted his chair back and leaned as far back as he could. You snorted.

“Smooth.” You laughed under your breath. Sans twiddled his thumbs.

Life isn’t perfect, and neither was your parking job. You pulled out again to re-attempt but ended up just making it worse. Sans sat patiently, staring at his phone. From the crashes, laughs, and screams coming from it, you guessed he was watching a Fail Army compilation.

You stepped out of the car and about a half-dozen pens and an empty plastic water bottle fell out of the door.

“ya got any erasers in there, or is it just the pens?” Sans joked.

“Hey, you never know when you’ll need to sign important paperwork.”

“while driving?” He smirked and shoved his phone in his pocket. He bent down to help you pick some of the fallen items up.

“More like informational papers you almost forgot to do at home, that you need for your doctor’s appointment.”

“ah. gotcha.” The wind whipped up and nearly knocked you over. The fallen water bottle started rolling away. You chased after it, one of two pens falling in a trail behind you.

“Oh, no, you don’t! I am not going to be littering today.” You snatched the bottle in one hand and gathered up the rest of the pens in the other. You haphazardly shoved the items back in the car door (though they’d probably fall out again), and once Sans had put his contributional handful of pens back, you slammed it shut.

Sans stopped you outside of the shop and pointed at the door. On it was a sign that said Monsters Welcome. You pushed the door open and let yourselves in. The shop had opened just a few minutes ago, so there wasn’t anyone in line. Considering you were up earlier than the sun, it wasn’t at all surprising. Staring at the menu was even more awkward than usual, but at least the lady behind the counter didn’t try to call you over before you were ready.

“so whaddaya recommend?”

“I like the taro milk tea. It reminds me of drinking cereal milk. The strawberry is usually pretty good, but it’s honestly been questionable lately. You can’t go wrong with the brown sugar milk tea, though.”

“whoa, okay. uhhh… you wanna just order for me, and i’ll hand you my card?” You laughed.

“If that’s easier for you, totally. I might get their tofu bowl, too. I didn’t grab food this morning.”

You ordered for yourself first, and then for Sans. You decided on a table and started to pull out a chair. It made an awful, grating noise. You had never heard something so obnoxious in your entire life. Your face flushed with warmth. Sans couldn’t help but grin.

“excuse you. didn’t realize just how comfortable you were around me,” he joked.

“Thank god no one else is here. I’d be mortified if I were here with, I don’t know, someone I was trying to make a good impression on.”

“chair farts are actually much higher than wet rubber gloves on the bad-first-impression-scale.”

“I feel so much better now.” you rolled your eyes. His shoulders shook with a silent chuckle. It wasn’t long before the drinks came out. You thanked the waitress and she left. You had gotten Sans the brown sugar milk tea, and the taro for yourself. The tofu bowl was still on its way.

“i hate to be the one to ask, but where are my balls?”

“Oh my god.” You facepalmed. “I forgot you have to ask for them. Do you want me to order again?”

“nah, don’t worry about it. balls or not, this looks pretty bussin.”

“Never say that again.” He guffawed at that. “Do you want to just trade drinks? I haven’t even had a sip of mine yet.”

“actually, yeah. that’s what i’m here for, right? to try the balls.”

“Actually, I heard somewhere that boba means boobs in another language.” Sans raised a brow bone. After a short-lived Googling session, his doubtful expression was replaced by one of vague interest. He took a sip of the tea, and a few pearls disappeared up his straw. He shut his eyes in consideration.

“these boobs are bussin.” Despite the straw and mouthful of tea and boba, you heard him as clear as day.

“I’m taking you home. You are awful.” You shook your head, but your smile betrayed your words.

“can’t go home yet. plumber isn’t done.” He took a sip of his drink and grinned, happy to have found a valid excuse to stay.

“We could go to my apartment, but I don’t think that would be a great idea.”

“why’s that?”

“Long story short, my neighbors rent out their room as an AirBnb. Technically, they’re not supposed to, but they do it anyway. Sometimes, I run into trouble with drunk teenagers trying to force their way into the wrong room. Plus, they’re usually loud.”

“that’s kinda shitty. can’t you do anything about it?”

“I’d complain about it to the owners of the apartment, but I don’t want to rat them out. Money is money.”

“huh. well, you’re a better guy than i am. i’d have thrown a fit.”

“Honestly, if I were home more often, it might be a problem. I’m out all the time, though, so it doesn’t usually bother me. And, when it does, I have earplugs.”

“jeez. and i thought our living situation was bad.”

“It’s really not bad! It doesn’t bother me. If it’s really that big of a big deal, the apartment will handle it. But no one really cares enough to complain.”

Sans’ phone buzzed. He picked it up, looked at it, and put it back down. He shifted in his seat.

“Everything okay?”

“yeah, ‘s all good. plumber’s headed out now. i thought he was gonna take a little longer.”

“Well, hopefully that’s a good sign! Do you need to get back though? I know we basically just got here, but I don’t mind driving you.”

“nah, i got time. ‘sides, i know a shortcut.” he grinned.

“A shortcut that doesn’t involve getting a ride?” you were curious now.

“yeah. stars with a ‘t’.” You sat for a moment while he sipped on his drink. Then, it hit you.

“No way. Can you teleport?”

“lol.” He said the word lol. Out loud. You snorted. “i have the uber app.”

“That starts with a ‘u’!”

“nuh uh. ‘the’ starts with a ‘t’.”

“True. Well played.”

“i can do the other thing too, though.” he smirked. You had to laugh.

“Now you tell me!” you shook your head. “Prove it, then.”

“ok.” With that, he vanished. The tea he had been holding went with him. In a few seconds, he returned to where he had been before. He now had a charger. “‘m back. phone almost died.”

“Wow! How’d you learn to do that?”

“heh. magic.” Cue the jazz hands. Empty jazz hands, aside from the charger. You helped him search for an outlet. There was one right by your table.

“Hey, where’d your tea go?” you asked.

“shit. must’ve left it at the house.” He facepalmed.

“You can go that far?”

“i can go anywhere i’ve been before, basically. haven’t traveled a whole lot since making it to the surface, so my options aren’t unlimited.”

“That’s so cool. Can Papyrus do it?”

“nah, his magic is a little different. maybe he could figure it out eventually, though. i dunno. never bothered to try to teach him - he’s usually the one bossing me around.”

“Neat! I’m so new to the idea of magic. And, like, the existence of monsters. What’s it been, six? seven years, now?”

“seven years, a month, and twenty-six days since we broke the barrier.”

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like down there.”

“eh, it’s over now. has been for a long time. ‘course, life still ain’t perfect, but living up here beats living down there. could always have been a lot worse, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean i’ve seen a lot more dangerous people up here than i’ve seen dangerous monsters down there. i won’t elaborate, for your sake and mine.”

“Hey, I won’t push it. I’ll respect that it’s your business. Sorry I brought it up.”

“it’s bound to happen. can’t blame ya. ‘s fresh on the mind, too, with the new laws in place.”

“I’m surprised those didn’t pass sooner! I’m glad the world is becoming a more accepting place, for people and for monsters. But we still have a long way to go.”

“and nothin’s ever gonna be perfect, obviously. i’ve done a lot of learning about what being grateful really means. it’s the little things that make ya smile.” He held a hand up to his forehead, palm facing down, gesturing toward his height.

“Was that a joke?”

“why? did it fall short?”

“Oh my god.”

“why the long face? can’t handle the height?”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘heat’. Speaking of which, it’s, like, 300 degrees in here. I’m boiling.”

“at least their heater works.” Sans commented.

“Does yours not?”

“our house has a lot of issues, kid. water coming through the ceiling light is the least of our worries.”

“Oh geez. I’m sorry to hear it. My mom really screwed you over.”

“we’ll get it worked out.” he nodded. “you look like you’re itching to get out of here. and, i just remembered, i’ve got a date waiting on me.”

“Oh, cool! Do I know them?”

“nah, but you’d like them. good pillows are hard to come by.” he joked. You guffawed, which only made his huge grin grow wider.

“A date with a pillow? Honestly, yeah, a nap sounds amazing right now. I’ve got work later. Night shift. Some sleep would do me good.”

“i didn’t take you for a napper.”

“Gotta sleep at some point. Working at a coffee shop fucks with your sleep schedule a little.”

“heh. bet. ok, see ya later.”

“Let me know if you need me to call the plumber again!” you shouted, but he had already blipped out of existence. Your phone dinged.

 

sans
btw i have a memory foam pillow
meant to mention it but u should totally get one - great for naps.
life. changing.

 

You
lol
I’ll take ur word for it.

 

Little did he know, you already had one. And he was right - the pillow (and the nap) was heavenly.

Notes:

so I'm not dead! just hyperfixating rn. hence the random midnight post... enjoy chapter 2 xoxo

Chapter 3: Contract

Summary:

You and Papyrus talk. And accidentally spoil some milk.

It was rush hour. You had opened that day, not really expecting much to happen. You were so, so wrong. Yeah, mornings were normally busy. But not this busy. You were on hour three of a nonstop line - and holding down the fort by yourself.

With Thanksgiving coming up in a week or two, the grocery store next door was having a sale on meat. Apparently, half of the people in town knew about the sale, because the parking lot was full. What do people do when they see a convenient little coffee shop, just after their meat-shopping-spree? They get coffee. Because it’s cold outside, the meat can afford to sit in the car, while they wait in line for a hot coffee.

An hour ago, you had been informed over text that your coworker would not, in fact, be showing up today. They had COVID, and would be in quarantine “until further notice”. You were completely by yourself, handling a 7-8 person line. Writing down orders, making coffees, making mobile orders. Manning the brewed coffee, too. The tips weren’t looking too bad, though.

10:00. You’d been there for five hours, including the pre-opening duties, no breaks.

The bell dangling above the door rang, a sound you were almost immune to, with how many people were coming in and out at this point. A familiar face made its way through the line.

It was Ana. You thought she had been fired! Apparently, they just hadn’t scheduled her in a few weeks here - she had transferred to another nearby café. You didn’t even realize the stores were connected.

“A customer left here to come tell us that you were by yourself. We’ve got plenty of hands over at our location and no customers, so I got permission to come help.”

“Thank you.”

Working wordlessly, you handled the espresso machine and cold bar while Ana did the register and brewed coffees. Within thirty minutes, the line began to diminish. You could breathe now.

“Let me take over, you’ve been here too long. Go on your break,” she said. You barely heard her - you were already halfway out the door.

You slammed your car door behind you, started it up, and switched on the seat heaters. Your lunch/brunch was sitting beside you in the passenger seat. That was probably the worst rush you’d had since the Fourth of July weekend. Despite the sandwich being cold, you had never tasted anything better in your life.

You opened your phone to a plethora of notifications. Sans had sent you memes in your absence. You watched every single one. While you watched the last one, a notification popped up at the top of your screen. You clicked on it.

 

sans
hey papyrus wants to talk to u
landlord stuff i think

 

you
I’m on break rn, can I call later? Should be off around 1:30-2

 

sans
yea totally just lmk

 

Awesomesauce. Hopefully, there wasn’t water pouring through the ceiling again. In this weather, it was probably cold enough to freeze. You didn’t feel like learning about whether ice could conduct electricity. Not today.

Eventually, you did have to go back to work. Goodbye, heated seats. Hello, back pain.

Ana stole your tips. All of them but the coins, which amounted to maybe two dollars. You didn’t speak to her unless you absolutely had to. When you were gone, the line had come back. You had a line of drinks to make, and Ana was working at a snail’s pace. All she was doing was taking orders now. You realized then why her hours had been reduced. It was weird, because she had worked there longer than you.

The rush continued for almost the next hour. To your surprise, you never ran out of anything. Once it started slowing down, it was almost time for you to leave.

“You can go if you want,” Ana offered. In her hands was a bag containing, hopefully, your half of the tips. She was handing them to you. You just smiled and took them.

“Okay.” You folded your apron, put it under the counter, and clocked out. Nope. You were absolutely done. You didn’t even care if it wasn’t 2:00 yet.

It wasn’t even the weekend before Thanksgiving yet. That would be so, so much worse.

On the drive home, you called Sans. He answered on the third ring.

“Hey!” You greeted.

“sup?”

“You said Papyrus needed to talk?”

“oh yeah, lemme grab him.” There was rustling from the other end of the line. “here’s th’boss.”

“Hello! I have important matters to discuss concerning payment. How would you like to receive it?”

“Uhh. That is. A great question?”

“Yes, indeed. We have money for utilities, the mortgage, property tax-”

“Whoa, wait, my mom made you pay for all that? I thought that was her responsibility.”

“I am unsure. That is what was in our contract.”

“That feels illegal. Hold on, I just got home - actually, can we talk about this in person? I feel like it’s too important to do over the phone.”

“Of course. Where would you like to meet?”

“You can come to my apartment if you want, though it probably won’t be super warm. I forgot to crank up the heater.”

“That is fine. I have no skin, so temperature is not a problem for me.”

“Perfect. I’ll send Sans my address, does thirty minutes sound good to you?”

“As in, be there in thirty minutes?”

“Yeah. Hold on, I just got home.” You pulled into a parking spot, turned off your car, locked it, and switched Papyrus from the car to your phone’s speaker. “Okay, I’m back.”

“All right. I will see you then. I am passing the phone back to Sans now.” Sans picked up.

“That’s so weird. I feel like if she was going to charge you for house expenses it would be part of your rent, not a seperate bill. And, even then, I’m pretty sure that’s not normal.”

“it seemed weird, but i didn’t really question it. not a lot of monster landlords underground, so we didn’t know much about renting when we got to the surface.”

“Why didn’t you guys just get a house? I mean, if that’s what you knew best, why not just stick with it?”

“we had pretty limited options, thanks to some pretty terrible people. your mom was an exception.”

“She still took advantage of you.”

“not like we couldn’t afford it. not everybody likes monsters, but everybody likes gold.” He chuckled. “the world’s getting better, though.”

“That’s good to know. Well, I better make some coffee or something before your brother shows up.”

“better hurry. he’ll probably be there sooner than you asked. the guy’s a stickler for being punctual.”

“Will do. Bye.”

“see ya.” He hung up.

You were inside now, and decided to do a little tidying before Papyrus arrived. There was coffee premade, you just had to turn on the pot and wait for it to brew. By the time the place was starting to shape up, there came a knock on your door. You answered it quickly.

“Hello!” You welcomed. “Come in. Let me get the lights on, and then I’ll get some coffee going.” You hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten outside. You usually relied on the windows for light.

“Thank you.” He stepped through the door, almost having to duck under the frame. He had a bag - it looked pretty full.

“Make yourself at home, sit anywhere you like.” You called from the kitchen. He set his bag on the coffee table. He sat on the couch and twiddled his fingers.

In a few moments, you returned with two cups of coffee. Yours had some milk and sugar in it, and you’d left his black. You set his in front of him, on the table.

He smiled. The mug read, “I’m a Big Dill” across the front, and had a pickle as the handle.

“Any milk or sugar with that?” You asked. “It’s no trouble - I can grab it from the kitchen.”

“Just the milk, please. Thank you.”

“Sure! Be right back.” When you got back with the milk, you sat next to him on the couch. He added some to his coffee and set the milk back down.

“I’ll put that away later. So, first things first, let’s make a plan. First we can go through the old contract, then we can decide what to do from there.”

“Perfect.”

Over the next hour, the two of you went through a huge stack of paper, and another few cups of coffee. You definitely wouldn’t be sleeping.

“So, since her contract was so nit-picky, it seems like what she was doing was completely legal. Unfortunately, this contract extends until you decide to move out. Or, until someone makes an offer on the house.” You explained.

“Wait, so could she have just kicked us out at any time to sell the house?” His eyelights widened. “I read this thing cover to cover and I don’t think it mentioned anything like that.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t say it in the contract. It’s messed up, but since it’s her house, yeah, she technically could have kicked you out to sell it.”

“Why couldn’t we just buy it from her?”

“She never officially listed it, but she talked about selling it for a while. I guess… maybe she didn’t deem that important enough to tell you? God, that sounds awful.” Papyrus seemed incredibly calm. “I’m not planning on listing the house, by the way. That would be insanely shitty.”

“What can we do?”

“I might have an idea. So if I-”

A thud, shattering sound, and a scream interrupted you.

“What in the name of Asgore was that?” Shit.

“My neighbors. They rent their room out as an AirBnb sometimes. Usually to rowdy teens looking for a place to party.”

“That sounds… illegal.”

“It probably is. Either nobody cares enough to file a complaint or no one has lived here long enough to. I mean, except for me.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I don’t plan on living here forever. I mean, for now, I kind of have to. But not forever.”

“I see. Well, that idea of yours. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait. It’s late, and I should probably head home.”

“Okay. Well, be careful out there.”

“I will, thanks.” Papyrus stood. You helped him gather up his papers back into his bag. “Goodbye.” He waved. You watched out your window to make sure he made it to his car.

With the amount of coffee in your system, and the party going on next door, you figured you probably wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. You accepted your fate. Besides, you had some serious work to catch up on. Your mom’s death was a good enough excuse for a week of missed classes, but two weeks? Definitely not.

You turned on your computer and started typing away at some forums for your classes. There were only a few assignments in English, but Math was a different story. Might as well put the energy to good use. Soon, your eyelids began to droop. You started nodding off.

A sharp, piercing sound made you shoot straight up in your seat. You had fallen asleep doing your overdue homework, and had forgotten to shower the night before. You were pretty sure you’d left the milk out on the coffee table overnight, too. Ugh. What a mess.

You had a few notifications on your phone.

One was from your manager - it was this week’s schedule. There was a conflict with one of your classes. You’d have to remind her you were back in school, and that last week’s availability was only temporary. You had thought for sure the change was in the system…

Another was a “good morning” text from Sans. Odd. You didn’t take him for a morning person.

The last one was from your brother. That one probably worried you the most.

bro
hey. we’re moving out.

You were gonna need more than just coffee.

Notes:

sorry for the shorter chapter!! not really much action in this one :(( finals week is behind me so I have more free time now (not that I’ll use it responsibly)

expect another chapter pretty soon!! it’s about to start getting interesting…

Chapter 4: Move

Summary:

Reader gets a call about moving. Papyrus begrudgingly eats a burger. A rude math teacher is involved, at some point. Sans does some stupid shit with boxes and cars.

“We just can’t maintain this house. It’s too big - and, besides, you don’t really need your room anymore. Plus, your brother is graduating soon, so all this extra room just means more cleaning for me. We already have a contract with a buyer, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to back out anyway..”

“I really wish you’d have asked me before making this decision. What if I have an emergency and need to come home? I won’t have that now.”

“I won’t have this discussion over the phone. We are clearing out the house, and could use all the help we can get. We can discuss this when you come home. Love you.”

She hung up on you.

This wasn’t fair. Your brother told you via text that they had started with Mama’s room and quickly moved to yours. Because you didn’t want half of your stuff to be thrown away or put in storage, they needed you there in order to clean it out properly.

You had classes and work today. You wouldn’t be able to be there until late afternoon.

This morning, you had a 9am class. They weren’t your favorite, but they were better than 8ams. You would NOT make the mistake of scheduling one of those (willingly) again. It was 7:45. You had to leave within 30 minutes or risk being late. Parking at the university was a disaster, and the commuter lot wasn’t exactly close to any of the buildings your classes were in. Even though you didn’t live far, you’d rather not risk hitting more traffic than necessary.

Maybe you should schedule an 8am, to avoid the work commuter traffic…

You decided to leave a little early today. You were out the door by 8, and parked on campus by 8:20. Great. You had some time to kill now. You could either go to class early and work on the rest of your overdue homework, or you could take a walk in the most gorgeous weather you’d seen in a while.

It was an easy decision.

While passing underneath the most gorgeous oak trees on campus, you noticed a cafe across the street and decided that, hey, with the milk still sitting out and still spoiled, a little treat couldn’t hurt. You crossed the street at the nearest crosswalk and went inside.

There was a sign saying their espresso machine was out. Brewed coffee would have to do. Besides, they had a self-service station with assorted milks, sugar, and creamer. Perfect. The less social interaction today, the better.

“What can I get started for you?” the man behind the register asked. He looked to be alone, and multitasking - there was a line of people ahead of you waiting for their drinks to be made. You wanted to hop behind the bar and help him out.

“I’ll just take whatever brewed coffee you have. Medium, please. Could you leave room for cream?” You asked.

“Absolutely. That’ll be $2.45. I’ll have that right out!” He rang you up and you paid with your card. You left a tip. You knew from experience that campus baristas rarely saw tips, and often worked for minimum wage. He had your drink out within 5 minutes, and you headed to class. Still a little early, but it was still a bit of a walk, so you figured you would be fine.

The door was locked. When everyone else waltzed down your way, you had a choice: watch every single person try the door, or tell them it was locked. You chose the former.

Your professor showed up a minute after her class was supposed to start, and was chatting with another professor.

“And I said, ‘well, if the work isn’t there, then you don’t get any credit, even if you got the answer right!’ And the look on her face was of absolute horror. You’d think she’d show a little more respect! Anyway, I gotta teach now. I’ll see you for lunch.”

You’d had a bad feeling about this teacher from day one, but this confirmed your suspicion. Your teacher had been taking points off for petty things for the last few tests, but now you knew you wouldn’t like the grade you got back.

And you were right. When she handed your test back, she had taken at least 30 points off for “not showing enough work,” and had written petty comments like, “how?” all over your test. She had given you a 57. Judging by the answer sheet she had up on the screen, you should have at least an 85. You decided to stay after class to try and contest it. Her office hours were right after class, so it wouldn’t be that hard.

As usual, you finished your notes and the homework before she could finish teaching them. It was all in the online textbook that she wrote (and made every single student drop $100 for). That had always bothered you. That, and how condescending she always was.

After class, you walked with her to her office and started explaining your situation.

“So on this question you took off 13 points, even though I got the correct answer. I showed all of my work, and anything I didn’t show, I wrote that I did it in the calculator. Why did you take points-” she cut you off.

“You also used a different method than the one I taught in class. Clearly, you didn’t learn the material.”

 

“Yeah, I forgot ONE formula, so I used a data table. But I even wrote down how I did that. I could show you right now how I did all of this work.”

“I know how you did it. I’m a math teacher. And you may have written that, but there’s also a possibility that there was some academic dishonesty happening.”

You stopped walking. “Are you accusing me of cheating? After discussing another student’s TEST in front of an entire class of students?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And no, I’m not saying you cheated, but I am saying I can’t keep my eyes on every student at once. I can’t rule out the possibility that you were being dishonest.”

“So you’ll just take points off just because a student might be cheating?”

“No. I give you points based on the work you show. Half of the work you did wasn’t what I was teaching in this class, so you did not show me that you learned a lot of the material. If you don’t like your grade, you can appeal to someone else to get it changed.”

Then, she walked into her office and closed her door in your face. You couldn’t stop the tears. You took a few deep breaths and pushed it down. You had a class halfway across campus to get to in the next fifteen minutes. Luckily, you had your longboard, and you could get there in five.

Or so you thought. The foot traffic was worse than usual. There must have been an event on campus, or something. Ugh.

Halfway to your class, you nearly slammed into someone who was on his phone. You ended up flat on your face and your board flew out from under you.

“Sorry!”

“Watch where you’re going, fucks sake.”

You could’ve said the same thing about him.

You made it to class on time. Not that your professor really cared about students being late. It looked like you’d be watching a movie, anyway. It was something along the lines of art and the Roman empire. With the lights this dim, you’d be struggling to stay awake. The dramatic music was a nice touch, though.

The kid sitting next to you kept talking to you throughout the film. He was friends with a friend of yours. He only talked to you to complain about life and relationships, but otherwise, he was a funny guy. He just had bad breath. And, apparently, was allergic to your cologne… but still sat next to you all the time. Ugh.

You pulled out your computer. If you couldn’t focus on the movie you could at least get some catch-up work done for another class.

Nope. Never mind. The dramatic music and narrations were too distracting. You sighed and put your computer away. After a minute of falling asleep while trying to concentrate on paying attention to the movie, you pulled out your phone. You had a text.

 

sans
sup

 

You
Trying not to fall asleep in class wbu

 

sans
might get food later, wanna join?

 

You
Lol depends on where

 

sans
caf probably

 

You
The on-campus cafeteria? I didn’t know u had a meal plan

 

sans
lolll i dont paps swipes me in

 

You
Papyrus goes here??????

 

sans
ya he’s studying public speaking i think

 

You
hvghsvshg????? ive never seen him??

 

sans
hes not a full time student so that makes sense lol. when r u out of class

 

You
Uhhh hour and a half but I have work after that

 

You
I can swing by and grab food though it wouldn’t take too long

 

sans
all good see u then?

 

You
Yep

 

The kid next to you was now simultaneously playing an anime game, watching youtube, and catching up on a Webtoon. Every once in a while, he would pause the video on his computer, write a few things down, and resume the video. How he was passing the class, you weren’t sure - but you definitely respected his ability to multitask.

After class, the foot traffic was much more bearable, so you popped in your headphones and skated to the cafeteria. The weather was, still, amazing. The sun was out, so it took away most of the bitterness from the cold. It wasn’t painfully windy, either. Too bad you’d be working.

Soon enough you were at the dining hall. You carried your board up to the second floor, swiped your University-granted card, and set your board on the rack. Someone was advertising a skating club on a flier above the board rack. Looks like it met on Wednesday nights at 7pm in the quad. Weird. Maybe you’d check it out.

You typed up a text asking where Sans was, but before you could hit send, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Both Sans and Papyrus were behind you. You waved.

“so… burgers?”

“Yeah, probably. I hope they didn’t overseason them again. They were so spicy last time I had to drown them in ketchup.”

“eh. a burg’s a burg.”

“True, to each their own. I might grab some stuff from the salad bar. The yogurt isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“fair. wanna grab a booth?”

“If one is available, sure. I don't really have a preference.”

“cool.”

You headed to the soup/salad bar while Sans grabbed his burger (and whatever kind of fries they were serving that day). Papyrus went to wait in line for the dinner-of-the-day, before realizing it was snack time. That meant dinner wasn’t being offered yet. He woefully made his way toward the grill.

They had grabbed a booth near one of the giant windows, so the sun shone through and warmed you up. It was always cold in the dining hall.

“So, you’re studying communications?” You asked. Papyrus swallowed a mouthful of food before he began to speak.

“Something like that. I am also taking a few courses in the department of kinesiology.”

“Like fitness and stuff?”

“Yes. And stuff. I work for the recreational sports club, as well.”

“Oh, cool. I’d love to go to one of your games. What do you do?”

“I essentially watch flag football games and make sure no one kills each other.”

“Have you ever had to, like, physically separate people?”

“Only once. And it wasn’t really much work on my part. The police came and handled it.”

“i think i remember that day. didn’t Undyne show up for that?” Sans asked.

“Yes, she did. She joined the players after she gave warnings to the people who were being aggressive. It was mayhem. She looked to be having fun.”

“Who’s Undyne?”

“old friend of ours. used to be in the royal guard, i think.”

“She was the captain, Sans.” Papyrus rolled his eyes.

“oh, yeah.” Sans smirked.

Your phone began to ring. It was your brother.

“Hang on, I’m getting a call. I’ll be right back.” You stepped outside, on the porch, where no one was sitting. “What’s up?”

“Hey, we need your help. Where are you?”

“I told you I had class and work today. Do you guys seriously need me right now?”

“I mean, no, but Mama's freaking out. I, personally, need your help. I can’t handle this amount of drama on my own.”

“Don’t let her hear you saying that. And, dude, I have a life. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You hung up on him and went back inside to sit with the skeletons.

“what was that all about?” Sans asked, through a mouthful of burger.

“It was my brother. My family decided to start moving out without consulting me or giving any notice. I didn’t even know they’d sold the house. Suddenly they’re dying for my help packing and moving boxes.”

“That sucks. I’d help, but I’ve got a ton of work to do.” Papyrus said. Sans grinned. “Don’t say it.” Papyrus said through his teeth, knowing damn well Sans was too quick to miss an opportunity to make a skeleton-related joke.

“That’s fine! I wouldn’t have asked you to. Trust me, I know you’ve probably got a lot on your plate.”

“It would be no problem. I owe you after… the incident.”

“You don’t owe me anything, dude. It’s fine.”

“I insist. It’s the least I can do.”

“paps can stay back and get his work done - he can pay you back another time." Sans offered "i’ll take his place. i don’t work tonight anyway.”

“I mean… sure, why the hell not? I could use the help, I guess.” You pondered for a moment about the logistics. “I won’t be out until late, so I’ll probably have to grab some boxes before I go to work…” You muttered under your breath.

“i could grab some for you. like i said, i’m not working today - i’ve got more time than you.” He snorted. “hell, if your mom hadn’t given you the rights to the house, they probably would have sold ours, too…”

“Oh god, I didn’t even think about that.” You checked your watch. Shit. You were about to be running late. “I hate to break this up, but I just realized I have to go.”

You scarfed down the rest of your salad. Papyrus wiped his hands and dabbed at his mouth with the napkin, then folded it neatly. “I’ll send you the address to my mom’s house before 9,” you told Sans as you grabbed your backpack. “I’ll see you there. Thanks again.”

“see you there,” Sans called after you.

You made sure you grabbed your board so you could skate to your car. Your shift was in thirty minutes, and you liked to be there early. Luckily, you hit every green light on the way there and clocked in ten minutes before your shift. That had to be some kind of record.

The first few hours weren’t too busy, but it was nice to have someone to talk to while it was slow. Amanda, your middle-aged shift manager, was always keen to show you new and off-the-menu drinks. She left after not too long, though. She had to go make dinner for her little ones.

A few hours later, work was still slow, so you pulled a tiny notebook you usually kept at work to doodle in. No one really got coffee in the afternoon - except college students. But that was for the on-campus coffee shops to worry about. Some people did come in for the sandwiches, though. There were a few regulars that enjoyed how quiet it often was. Only one was here today.

The bell above the door rang, and in stepped your savior.

“heya. nice place.” Sans said from across the room, pointedly looking around. You put a finger to your mouth and pointed at the student clearly stressing over whatever they were studying. He spoke quieter this time. “whoops. got you some boxes in the car.”

“Thank you. I’ll make you something, on the house. I get free drinks anyway, and it’s too late for coffee. What do you like?”

“gee, thanks. uhhh, it’s late for me to be having caffeine, too. d’ya have anything decaf?”

“Yeah, actually. Want a recommendation?”

“sure. actually, surprise me. make something you like.” You smiled.

“Okay.” You were pretty sure there was still decaf espresso from the last restock. The drink you had in mind was easy, and your favorite to make. It was a caramel iced latte, but with the espresso shots on top, to make pretty brown-and-white swirls. (What Starbucks called a Caramel Macchiato, you recalled.)

The espresso machine - one of the two on the bar - didn’t take long to start pulling the shot. You had to maneuver quickly to avoid it going straight down the drain. It poured out into a little glass cup, and once it was done, you finished the drink off by pouring the shots and topping Sans' drink with caramel drizzle.

“Here you are! I wasn’t sure if you had a sweet tooth, but… this is my favorite drink to make. It’s pretty popular in the warmer months.”

You slid the drink across the counter. Sans caught it before it could slide off. He eyed the cup and gave it a little test swirl. He took a sip, contemplating the flavor.

“i like it.” Sans commented with a nod. “not terribly sweet. not bitter, either. thanks.” He cleared his throat before taking another sip. “i figured i’d stay here ‘til you’re off. might try and get… i dunno, something done.”

You could probably close early and leave, if not for the student working at the desk. You almost didn’t say anything - but then, the student packed his laptop and left.

“You know, I really don’t have to stay here. I mean, I still have closing duties. But I could close early. I’m here alone.”

“is that allowed?” Sans quirked a brow. He grabbed himself a straw - he wanted to stir his drink so all the sweetness wasn’t at the bottom. It was a pretty drink, but impractical. He wanted all the flavors at once.

“Me being alone, or me closing early?”

“either. both.”

“Eh. I’ve closed early before. We usually have to, anyway - not enough staff with availability at night. And, same issue with me being alone. Just not enough staff.”

“damn. you hiring?” he joked. “i know a few people who might be interested.” He thought about it for a moment. “hell, i know exactly who would be interested. hold on, let me call him.”

“Okay.” You turned around to start closing. You replaced the chai and the chocolate syrup in their respective containers, and washed the espresso machine. You dumped some expired tea and kept a small cup for yourself, for tomorrow morning. Sans was on the phone now.

“hey, burgerpants. you still working for mettaton?”

“Fuck you.” You could hear the exasperation in the other person's voice and held back a laugh. There was a pause. “Yeah."

“listen, i might have a job for you. let me put you on the phone with somebody.” Sans held the phone out to you and looked at you expectantly. You wiped your sticky hands on your apron and took the phone.

“Hey,” You started.

“Uhhh. Hi?” The person on the other end of the phone said.

“Oh. Yeah. Um, listen, we’re hiring right now. We could really use some extra hands. It's a coffee shop.” You started rattling off some of the things one of the cafe’s managers had told you to get you interested. “Part-time workers get benefits after six months, I think, and we’ll work with your schedule. There are opportunities for advancement-” He interrupted you.

“Sweet. When can I come in to interview?” The click of a lighter could be heard in the background. You didn’t have to ask him twice. The poor guy probably hated his job.

“I guess… let me see. I can get one of the managers to come in, and I’ll have Sans give you my number. We’ll contact you within… a week?” You guessed.

“Cool. Talk to you then.” He hung up, straight to the point. You laughed.

“Is he okay?” you asked, handing Sans his phone back.

“a definite no.” Sans chuckled in response. “poor guy. long story short, his pay is good, but he can’t stand mettaton. the guy he works for.”

“Ah. I think I’m familiar.” You recalled hearing the name on some news story. Some rising star celebrity. A dance and pop sensation. You couldn’t remember what the story had been about. “I’m gonna mop real quick and then we can head out. I just have to lock the building.”

“ok.” Sans was almost done with his drink. The ice had melted enough to water it down, so what was left was a translucent brown liquid. Sans grimaced and contemplated throwing it away. The remainder tasted of metal and morning breath, with a hint of stale air freshener.

You grabbed the mop and bucket and cleaned the disgusting, blackened floor. It was a silly thing to do, honestly. No amount of mopping could remove the stickiness or color. Nor could bleach, or anything else you had tried. But food safety was food safety, so mopped you did. You had already wiped down the furniture not in use.

Sans slurped loudly at the liquid left in the cup and looked at you innocently. You glared (without malice), quietly regretting letting him have that straw. He took off the lid and started crunching down on the ice. Something caught your eye when he did. He had a gold tooth, and what looked to be a bright, red tongue.

Obviously, you thought. How else was he supposed to eat? Or drink? Of course he had a tongue. You brushed away the thought with a shake of the head.

“You ready to go?”

“yep,” he said, with a mouthful of ice. “i’ll follow you.”

“Awesome.” The both of you headed outside. You locked the door on the way out. You got into your cars and drove off. It wasn’t too far, but it was still more than you’d rather have been driving at this time of night. And you still had the drive back to your house… maybe you should have had some coffee.

You zoned out a little, singing along to more energetic music to try to stay alert. It had been a longer day than you’d realized. You arrived before too long. You unlocked the front door with your spare key and announced your arrival.

“I’m home.”

Your brother came running down the stairs and hugged you. He thanked you for coming before Sans came inside with a variety of boxes.

“This is Sans. He’s here to help.” You introduced him. Your brother nodded and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sans.” He turned back to you. “We started packing your stuff. Sorry. I didn’t go through a lot of it. Wanted to respect your privacy.”

“It’s fine.” Anything you didn’t want your family to see was back in your apartment, anyway. You just had some clothes and old stuff in your bedroom. Not much to pack. Your brother left.

“where can i start?” Sans asked, while the both of you headed upstairs.

“Let’s empty my closet first. That’s going to be the hardest part, probably. I can’t reach the top shelf.”

“no problem.” He waltzed over to the closet and opened it with a flick of his finger. He hadn’t even touched the door.

“Damn, dude. Teleporting, telekinesis. Anything else up your sleeve?” He started floating things down, barely moving a muscle, and chuckled knowingly.

“maybe.”

After what felt like hours, most of your stuff was shoved haphazardly into boxes. You carried a few, while Sans magically floated the rest down the stairs and into your car. It all fit, to your amazement. But barely. This was a dangerous game of Tetris.

“Thanks for coming, genuinely. I would have been here for hours.”

“you were here for hours.”

“Yeah, well…” You checked your watch. “I’d have been here for more than two. Might not have slept.”

“no problem. i dig free drinks.” He shrugged.

“Oh, that’s what this was about? And I thought I was just getting a favor from a friend.” You joked, punching him in the arm without any force.

“yup. my secret’s out. shame on me.” He laughed. You rubbed your eyes absent-mindedly and smiled. He noticed.

“you ok to drive? i could always take you home the fun way.” He offered. You weren’t too tired to realize he meant via teleporting. “we’d come back for your car later.”

“Nah, I’m just tired. I don’t wanna add ‘nauseous’ on top of that too.”

“fair. well, if you say you’re good, then you’re good. i believe you. be careful,” he added, walking to his car with a wave. That gave you an idea.

“Wait. Actually. Could you just… teleport my car?” He stopped walking.

“uhhhh. i… have not tried that. never really occurred to me. hold on, lemme try.” He placed a bony hand on his own car and vanished. Oddly enough, the car vanished, too. He was back in seconds. “holy fuckballs. that’s awesome.”

“Fu- what?” You laughed. You decided any nausea that went with being teleported - while inside a car! - would be worth it. “Okay, cool. Let’s do it.” You climbed into your car and he followed into the passenger seat. He placed his hand on his window.

“you ready?” You nodded and buckled your seatbelt, an afterthought.

The world warped and squished around you and you saw white for a moment, before you were in the parking lot to your apartment. Surprisingly, no nausea came. Maybe it had to do with being in the car?

“thaa was awesome,” Sans slurred. You turned your head to face him. He was sliding down, slumped in his seat.

“Dude, are you okay?” You asked. He looked up at you and just laughed. Sans seemed about as good as drunk. “Guessing that’s a no.”

You weighed your options. You could drive him home (still dangerous), or call Papyrus and tell him that Sans was staying the night (not dangerous). You had a couch, and as long as he didn’t mind the noisy neighbors, he could sleep there. You could unload the car in the morning. You were pretty sure you didn’t have an early class.

You popped over to the passenger side and helped Sans out of the car.

“srry fr this,” he mumbled. “used too mch mgck. call ‘pyrus.”

“Will do. We gotta get you inside, first.” You made it up to your apartment, and with your free hand, unlocked the door. You helped Sans to your couch. You closed and locked the door behind you. Had you locked the car? You weren’t sure.

You rang up Papyrus. It went to voicemail. Shit, he was probably asleep.

“Hey, it’s me. Sans said he used too much magic. He, uh... teleported his car and then mine with me in it. That said, he’s gonna stay the night. I definitely don’t want him to try and teleport in this state. Uh. Bye. Call me back when you wake up. And sorry if I woke you.” You ended the voicemail.

“Just called your brother,” you informed Sans. “Let me get you a pillow and some blankets. I have spare sheets for the couch.”

You rummaged through a hall closet and found everything without issue. Getting Sans off the couch wouldn’t be easy - he was starting to drift off. You lifted him by the armpits and dragged him to the floor.

“yer handsr soft,” he mumbled. You weren't paying attention.

You prepared the sheets and blanket for him and helped him up into the makeshift bed. He climbed under the blankets and fell asleep immediately. Good. Until you could find some monster food to refuel him, he would need his rest.

“See you in the morning.” You said, and made your way to your room.

“see ya… th’morn, darlin.”

Notes:

so I lied about there being another chapter "coming soon" last time. I started dating the most amazing person ever in December, and this month - after like 6 years of asking - I'm finally on medication for my anxiety (which has helped a LOT). I'm getting back into my Undertale fixation, full force, and I finally have the mental energy to make content here again.

And, holy shit. We passed the one-year anniversary of this fic, yet it only has FOUR chapters. I'm sorry I don't update much but hey at least I've actually started making a habit of proofreading... I'm really trying to make it something I can look back on and be happy with :) I find so much comfort in other peoples' work, and I'm so glad I get to give back to the community that I love.

LAST THING: Would y'all be interested in a spin-off collection of oneshots of this series? I was thinking about creating something like that with these characters... stuff like domestic life, dates, (maybe a little smut), and day-to-day stuff that's too far in the future for me to be patient enough to wait for. (Love to read slow-burn, hate to write it...) Lmk in the comments :)

 

ty for the comments and love on this fic so far. I hope the long, complicated chapter makes up for not posting in 6 months LMAO... that said, I can't say there will be another chapter soon, but I do finally have a better mind to flesh out where I want this story to go. THANK YOU ALL ILY <3 <3 <3

Chapter 5: Notice

Summary:

Reader makes breakfast. Tyler engages in dumbassery. Reader gets an email... and shit goes down fr

Sans turned in bed. The sun was filtering through the blinds, and shone directly into his face. Mornings on the surface beat mornings underground, sun and all. It took Sans a few moments to recall the events of the night before. He groaned when he felt the beginnings of an awful headache.

From the kitchen, Sans heard someone humming along to music. He stretched, got up off the couch, and began folding the borrowed sheets. He tried to follow along with the tune you were humming. He thought he recognized the song from somewhere. You had a nice voice.

Once he finished folding the sheets, he made his way to the kitchen, trying to be quiet. He didn’t want to startle you and stop you singing. He opened the fridge, and the sound made you jump.

“Morning!” you chirped. You were working on breakfast for the two of you - you’d been able to go pick up an additive that would perk him up, as per Papyrus’ recommendation. Sans had been out cold for, like, twelve hours.

“mornin.” he greeted. He rummaged through the fridge for milk before realizing it was already next to the coffee pot. He added some to a mug with some coffee. It smelled like death - too strong to drink black. “do ya have advil, by any chance?”

“I do, yeah. Papyrus called earlier and said there was something that would do better, though. I’m adding some to your food, unless you want to put it in your coffee?” He nodded, recognizing the powdered magic you were referring to. It helped with monsters’ digestion, and aided in energy and magic regeneration.

“nah. stuff’s nasty in coffee.” he chuckled. “if it’s in food, you can’t taste it as much.”

“Noted.” You decided to keep the magic powder around from now on, just in case. “Do you still want Advil?”

“can’t hurt.” You found the container of Advil in a cabinet and handed him three for good measure. He finished making his coffee - way more sugar than you’d expected - and took a sip to swallow them down. “ugh.” You finished cooking the eggs and wrapped them up in a few tortillas, with some leftover breakfast sausage. You handed one to Sans and kept one for yourself.

You held your coffee mug out to his. “To not teleporting any more cars.” You toasted. He humored you and clinked his mug to yours. You both sat and ate in silence for a beat.

“the hell did you put in these eggs?” he asked. You couldn’t tell whether it was disgust in his voice.

“Uhhh, steak seasoning. It’s got, like, garlic and salt and some other stuff, I dunno. Makes the house not smell like farts when you cook them. Oh, and a little tabasco sauce. And milk and cheese.” Sans quirked a brow. “That’s how my mom used to make them.”

“ah.” He nodded in approval. He went for another bite, so you assumed he liked it.

“hey, uh.” Sans cleared his throat. His voice was lower than usual, still gruff from the morning. “thanks for lettin’ me stay the night. and takin’ care of me in that state. i was being pretty stupid.”

“Hey, I brought it up, so I have to take a little responsibility.” You had felt bad after seeing what the trip had done to him. Besides, neither of you had been in a state to drive, no matter how far it was. You were simply doing the bare minimum.

To him, it had been a huge gesture. Underground, trust didn’t come easily, if at all. Had Sans done something like that before coming to the surface, he might’ve been killed. He’d never hear the end of it from Papyrus. He winced at the thought.

“You okay?” you asked. Sans blinked hard, coming back to reality.

“yeah,” He smiled. “just tired, that’s all. the coffee and food will help.” He assured you.

“Good. There’s plenty, if you need more.” You took a bite of your breakfast burrito. “I’ll have to leave pretty soon, I have work and class today.” You said through a mouthful of eggs and then swallowed. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. The shower is available, too.”

Sans shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, still not used to this kind of hospitality. “thanks. i won’t be around too much longer, though. should be able to teleport home in less than an hour.”

“Oh, good! Glad to hear it.” You brushed some crumbs off the table and into your palm. You had opted out of a plate - less dishes to do - but everything had a price. You tossed the crumbs into the trash and wiped down the table.

“Well, I’m going to brush my teeth and head out.” You announced on your way to the bathroom. Sans didn’t respond. He was probably chewing. You were already dressed, and after you brushed your teeth, you grabbed your bag and headed toward the door. “I’m going to lock the door behind me. Just text me when you get home!”

“ok! see ya later.” Sans said from across the apartment.

“Bye.” You shut the door behind you and locked it, double checking for your phone, keys, wallet, and headphones. All were present.

The drive over wasn’t terrible. You were a mid-shift today, so you didn’t have to worry about commuter traffic. The first thing you did after punching in was help Ana check the items for restock. The after-effects of the rush were clear in her eye bags, so you offered to hold down the fort for her break. She thanked you and headed out to her car. Ana didn’t like to take her breaks in the dining area - she was too nice not to step in if her coworkers appeared to need help. This way, she could have her break, uninterrupted.

It must have been pretty busy this morning. You were almost out of breakfast sandwiches and pastries. You wrote down what you needed on the handheld whiteboard for Ana to grab when she got back. Restocking was a little more work than being on the bar, but it gave Ana time to decompress. By the time she returned, you had put her tips in a pastry bag for her.

“Here’s what we need.” You handed her the whiteboard. “Do you want to grab it, or should I get it for you?”

“I’ll do it. Thank you. I leave a little early today,” she reminded you. “So this will probably be the last thing I do. Tyler will be here earlier, though, too. You could get away with leaving a little earlier so you’re not late for class.”

“Oh, that’s okay. My class isn’t until later. Thanks for letting me know, though!”

“No problem. I’ll be right back.” She ducked into the door that led to the pantry and fridge. The freezer was further back, and usually locked. That was where the sandwiches and pastries were.

The bell above the door rang, and the sound made you realize there wasn’t any music playing. One of the perks of being a barista at this specific cafe was that the owner shared a Spotify Premium family plan with all of her employees. She let you use it for work, but also for personal listening. There was a shared playlist that you all played on the overhead speakers while at work. Just instrumental music, so as to not bother anyone who was studying or working. You connected your phone to the sound system and started to play music.

The monster girl who walked in ordered an iced matcha latte with raspberry syrup. You definitely weren’t big on matcha, but the raspberry syrup? Absolutely. Ever since Starbucks had discontinued their raspberry syrup, your little cafe had grown in popularity. Your little cafe had raspberry syrup out the wazoo, and word was spreading.

You’d be more than grateful for another coworker to pick up the hours - you hoped Burgerpants would get hired, with how popular the little cafe was becoming. Rushes were growing longer and harder.

Ana returned with the restock supplies: milks, a vanilla syrup (you went through at least one every day), and beans for the espresso machine and brewers. There were a few more things you’d have to get later, to help Tyler with closing duties, but not much.

“I also took care of the sandwiches and pastries. They’re in a crate in the freezer. You might have to add more later.”

“Thanks,” You said. You honestly hoped Ana would get promoted soon. She had gotten the job to support her kids - she worked more and harder than everyone else at the cafe.

“Well, it’s about time that I’m off,” Ana said, checking her watch. “You’ll be okay till Tyler gets here?”

You nodded. “I’ll be fine. You head out.”

She hung her apron in the closet. She punched out and waved as she left. “See you soon.”

Tyler came in less than an hour later. Like Ana had said, you would need to get more sandwiches. Whatever the morning regulars had left, the afternoon regulars had knocked out. You’d never seen the fridge under the bar this empty before.

You sent the manager/owner a text - she would need to place an order for more supplies soon. You also asked when she’d be interviewing Burgerpants. She said soon, and that she wanted you there for the interview. When you started to type a response to ask why, you heard a scream and dropped your phone.

Tyler had been cleaning the steaming wand at the espresso bar, and it had blown steam directly onto his hand. There was a nasty looking burn starting to take shape. He was cradling his hand, shaking slightly.

“Oh my god, are you okay??” You hurried over to the ice machine and started making a small ice pack for him. He shook his head. “Do you need to go to the hospital? That looks pretty bad.”

“No, it’s okay, my mom is a nurse.” Tyler said through gritted teeth. “I don’t suppose you’d cover for me?”

You handed him the makeshift ice pack. “I have classes later, I’ll probably have to close early. I was just texting Rachel - I’m sure she’ll be okay with it. How did that even happen?”

“I don’t know! Maybe I accidentally turned it on when I was cleaning?” Tyler explained.

“Hmm. I can ask Ana or Rachel to call someone about the machine.” You looked at the espresso machine. The steaming wand’s lever was in the off position, but still releasing pressurized air. “It’s old. Probably due for replacing… look, you can go ahead and go home. I can’t ask you to work with an injury, especially a burn - I’ll let Rachel know. Do you have a ride?”

“Yeah, I drove myself here.” Tyler winced when he pressed the ice pack into his hand.

“Will you be okay to drive home?”

“I… think so? It’s not far, maybe five minutes.”

“Okay. Be safe,” you added. Tyler nodded and clocked back out on the machine with the pin pad. You watched him as he went out to his car and drove off. Good. He’d be okay. You didn’t see him on the schedule tomorrow, anyway, so he’d have a little time to recover.

The bell above the door rang. This would probably have to be the last customer, as your shift was over soon. After you made their drink - a large iced mocha, decaf - you started closing everything down. Before anything else, you texted Rachel about having to close early, and what had happened to Tyler. She gave you the okay to close.

You turned the overhead lights off and locked the door, so no one could get in while you closed. You counted the sandwiches and pastries so you could replace them, and bagged up whatever was expired, to take home. You weren’t supposed to, but better someone eating it than letting it go to waste.

Your phone was buzzing in your pocket. Not a call, just a bunch of emails coming in at once. Ugh. Probably the University’s bookstore. They always emailed deals and sales. It got kind of annoying.

You replaced the mocha, white mocha, and chai. Everything was done after that. You took off your apron, turned off the bar light, and headed out to your car, locking the door behind you. Once you were settled in the car, you turned it on and looked at the emails. Spam, spam, more spam, university bookstore.

And an email from your landlord. Subject line: Eviction Notice. The blood drained from your face. Your hands and feet grew cold. You opened the email.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 

To: Tenant of Room 324
From: Andrew Weiser

Greetings.

I have received multiple noise complaints from your downstairs neighbors. I have been informed by several of your neighbors that you host loud parties in your apartment, often after quiet hours. This was already against our policies, but you took it a step further.

I was looking for an AirBnb for my and my wife’s vacation when I stumbled across something I recognized - my apartment. I must say I am disappointed, as you are a pleasure to be around. However, due to repeat violations of our policies, I have no choice but to send you this notice.

You must vacate your apartment by 4:00 PM this Friday, November 18th. If you do not, you will be charged a nightly fine, the amount of a quarter of your monthly rent.

Kind regards,
Andrew Weiser

 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Your name and the address of your apartment room were included, as well.

You stared at your phone for a few minutes, processing. This was too much. Too much, all at once. The air conditioning blasted your face while the world swam and swayed around you. There was something about the cooling air that grounded you. That wouldn’t let you drown in the worry. That kept you from driving your car into the street lights and telephone poles on the way home.

Most of your boxes were still in your car. They rattled around while you drove. In the parking lot of your apartment, you briefly remembered that you had a class that you were probably missing right now. It didn’t seem to matter.

You stared at the email some more. Your stupid neighbors had been blaming the noise on you for months. Hell, it had been for over a year. Rage took over and you slammed your car door. You stomped up to your neighbor’s room and banged on their door. You heard heavy, quick footsteps, and were answered by your neighbor - whose eyes were bloodshot and dilated.

“Hope you’re happy.” You thrusted your phone in his face, emphasizing the subject line of Andrew’s email. “Hope you made enough money to make up for this. And I hope blaming me was worth it.” His eyes widened and he hurriedly slammed his door in your face.

You stood there, shaking, for a moment, phone still in hand, email still open. Then you collapsed and fell to the ground.

You had nowhere to go. This was the cheapest place you could find in a 10 mile radius. With your mom and brother moving, there was no way you’d be able to find a place to stay. And you didn’t want to ask that of them, anyway. There was only so much time you could spend under your mother’s roof before she began to drive you insane with her petty comments, and how she constantly brought you down.

You should scream, but you didn’t have the strength. Silent tears fell while you were slumped at your neighbor’s door.

A whoosh and a crackle, to your right, caught your attention. You looked up through watery eyes. Sans was knocking on your door.

“hey, i left my-” He stopped talking when he saw the paper on your door. It matched the email that illuminated your face from below.

He noticed you. Looked at you once, then back at the notice on the door, then at you again. Worry filled his eyes and he crouched down to meet you at your level.

“i’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to your feet. “god, i’m so sorry.”

You sniffled. He helped you through the door - it was unlocked? - and sat you on the couch. He ran his fingers through your hair while you shook and sobbed quietly. You came down, and when you did, you were curled up, head in Sans’ lap.

“Sorry you had to see me like this,” you mumbled.

“hey, what are friends for?” he muttered. “plus, i was much worse last night.” He chuckled. You laughed too, sitting up.

“Heh heh, yeah, okay. That’s fair.” You wiped your nose on your sleeve. “So…”

“so.” Sans cleared his throat. “what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess I’ll start looking for a new apartment. I could stay with one of my friends for a while. I have an air mattress and some extra sheets-” Sans cut you off, quirking a brow.

“uh, sorry to interrupt your train of thought. you… own our house, remember?”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh god, I wouldn’t kick you guys out! I couldn’t ask that of you, my mom has already put you through so much.”

“no. not what i meant at all. we could convert the office into a bedroom. or maybe the living room.” He looked at his phone. “i’m letting papyrus know where i am. and that we’ll have a guest tonight.”

“No, you don’t have to do that.”

“i’m not asking. your neighbors have done enough. god knows what kind of trouble they’d try to get you into, especially if they know you’re being evicted now. if you’re on your way out they might try to blame more stuff on you. if you’re not here tonight, then they might even get caught.”

“That’s… a good point.” You nodded. “Okay. I can move the rest out later.”

“we can move the rest out later. you’re crazy if you think you’re doing this on your own.” Sans picked up his phone again. “papyrus said he’ll get us some food on the way home. i left my charger here last night, i think i know where it is.”

“I’ll go pack my bag while you’re looking,” you said, and scurried off to your room. You had a backpack, but it was full of school stuff. You just dumped it out on your bed. You grabbed your toothbrush, retainer, toiletries, and a few changes of clothes and pajamas. Oh, and your phone charger.

You headed back out to the living area. Sans was on his phone, his recovered charger in hand.

“you ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Phone, keys, wallet, headphones, ID… yeah, that was everything important.

“ok. you taking your car, or you wanna go my way?”

“I’ll drive. You can ride with me, if you want.”

“do you want me to?” He shoved his phone in his pocket to give you his full attention.

“Uhh…” you thought about it. If he was in the car, you probably wouldn’t cry again. If you cried, you wouldn’t be able to see the road properly. And that was dangerous. “Yes. Definitely.”

In the car, you didn’t bother putting music on. It wasn’t that long of a drive.

“Thank you.” You said. “You didn’t have to help.”

“hey, i get that this is a lot to take in. you’ve been nothin but kind to us these past few days. about time we started returning the favor.”

“I just feel like this is so much to ask. I don’t want you to have to change your life just because I’m going through something.”

“dude, life is change. one thing i learned, being underground, was that having someone you can rely on will get you through just about anything. trying to get through it alone? forget about it.” He sighed. i won’t let you make that mistake if i can help it.

You didn’t have the words to answer. Besides, you were at their house. You both got out of the car and headed inside. It wasn’t even dark yet, but a nap sounded like it would be great. Screw the classwork. You’d forgotten your computer, anyway. You could explain everything to your professor later.

“i’d offer you a snack, but all we really have is leftovers. i… don’t think they’re edible.” He peeked into the fridge. Yeah, no. Everything was moldy. Somebody should probably take care of that.

“That’s kind of you, but I don’t have an appetite right now. I think I might take a nap.”

“i like the sound of that.” Sans grinned. “we’ve got a fold-out couch, for now. it converts into a bed.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that couch! We gave it to the old tenants because we got a new one for our guest room.”

“perfect. ‘cause, i’m gonna be honest, i have… no idea how it works.” he laughed. “uh, there’s a TV in there, too. we installed it not long ago.”

“Oh, did you wanna watch something?” Sans considered it.

“actually, maybe. if that won’t bother you.”

“Not at all. Honestly, I don’t really want to be alone right now. Some entertainment might help.”

You changed into your sweats and helped Sans with the couch-bed.

“Okay, and then you unfold this part.” You worked together to unfold the rest of the bed-couch.

“i feel pretty silly.” He chuckled. “that was easy.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t know how it worked either. Before.” You laughed. You started putting the sheets on. “One time, I tried to fold a foam mattress topper into the couch. I ripped it trying to get it out. It took, like, an hour.”

“ok, that makes me feel a little better.” He grunted and pulled the comforter over the top. Then, he jumped up to sit on top of it. “what are we watching?”

“I thought you had something in mind.”

“eh. there are a few shows i’m in the middle of right now. i don’t wanna throw you in with no context.”

“I’m pretty smart. I can figure it out.”

“oookay. if you say so. but consider this your warning - i’m on season nine.” Sans turned on the TV and started playing an old-looking soap opera.

Oh boy. This was gonna be fun.

By the end of the hour, you were ready to fight the main antagonist.

“What? How could he do that to her?” You clenched your fists at your sides. You crossed your arms.

“heh. just wait, it gets worse.” Sans whispered.

“How do you know what’s going to happen?” You asked.

“this is my third time watching this.” He smirked. The doorbell rang. “don’t pause it, i’ll get the door. it’s probably ‘pyrus.”

“Okay!” You paused it anyway, and followed him to the door. Papyrus walked in with two armfuls of groceries.

“I’m so sorry for the state of the place, I got you some snacks and drinks - there’s more in the car. I have some microwave dinners, and some ingredients for real food. You can have whatever you want.” Papyrus was a babbling mess. He looked worse than you, red-faced and with a sheen of sweat on his skull.

“you okay, dude?” Sans poked at him. “need a hand with all that?”

“No! I can do it!” He made it to the kitchen and dropped everything on the island. The first thing he did was dig through the fridge and toss out the moldy leftovers. Tupperware and all.

“I’d be happy to help with dinner,” you offered. Papyrus sighed.

“Thank you.” He took a few deep breaths and set down the Tupperware he was holding. You took it from him and dumped its contents into the trash while resisting the urge to gag.

“I don’t want to impose. If this is too much trouble, I wouldn’t mind staying in my apartment.”

“No!” Papyrus opposed. “No, it’s no trouble. I have this thing, and I overthink, and…” He drew off, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose, before regaining his composure. He took you by the hands. “Anyway. We want you here. Really.” Papyrus squeezed your hands and then threw away the last container of leftovers.

“Here,” Papyrus handed you a container of tomatoes. “I’ll get the water boiling for pasta salad. Can you cut these?”

“Absolutely.” You wanted to pull him in for a hug. Instead, you asked where to find their cutting board and a knife.

The pasta ended up being delicious - you weren’t surprised. It was kind of hard to mess up something out of a box.

“I think I’m going to go have a rest.” You stated, while the three of you finished up the dishes. “After we’re done, I mean.”

Sans nodded. He was elbow-deep in soapy water. The noodles had been left in the pot for too long without stirring while they had cooked. Some were stuck to the bottom. He was pretty focused on scraping the residue off into the sink.

“We will take care of these. You can go ahead. Let us know if you need anything.” Papyrus offered, wiping his hands on a towel that hung on the oven door.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Before long, you were asleep. You wouldn’t be up again until morning.

Meanwhile, the skeletons were trying to talk quietly, in the kitchen.

“What are we going to do?” Papyrus asked, arms crossed. “What if they kick us out? What if-”

“pap. look at me.” Sans placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “deep breaths, bro. you’re safe. we’re safe. ok?”

Papyrus nodded, mouth clamped shut, teeth grinding. His eyes were squinted, his shoulders tense. Sans pulled him in for a hug.

“the human isn’t here to hurt us. and, if he was, we have law enforcement now to take care of him.” Sans said softly, patting his brother on the back. He pulled away and leaned back against the island. “how was therapy? you went today, right?”

“Better,” Papyrus answered, nodding and shifting in place. “I think we are getting somewhere. They have me on something called Sertraline now. 50 milligrams. It’s supposed to take a few weeks to kick in.”

“you do seem a little better. how long have you been on it?”

“Just a few days. It’s made for humans, so we’re not sure how effective it will actually be on me. But we’re monitoring it.”

“good. i’m glad.” Sans sighed. “i’m sorry about the human.”

“No, I want to help. It’s the least we could do.” Papyrus fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I am sorry I freaked out.”

“it’s okay. i’m working on that, too. and, i mean, i’m not sure we have much of a choice, anyway. it’s kinda his only option.” There was a beat of silence before Papyrus spoke again.

“How will this work, financially?”

“well,” Sans chuckled and looked up at the ceiling. “it depends on whether the house is paid off. if it is, then maybe we could split the bills - electrical, water, gas, whatever. if not then we just keep paying our normal rent.”

“We have an opportunity to renegotiate everything. I say we take advantage of it.”

“yeah. that was the plan. i’m pretty sure they wanted to sell us the house, but… this changes things a little.”

Papyrus snorted. “Yeah, a little.” Sans chuckled. He looked down at his phone. Yikes. He was running late.

“welp. i’m off to work. i’ll see ya later.”

He saluted Papyrus, and with a whoosh and a crackle, Sans was gone.

Notes:

...Speaking of anxiety medication. I'm actually on 50mg of Sertraline and it's finally the right dosage. Obviously, something must be going well, because this chapter came out in, like, less than a month.

I've been wanting to write and publish this chapter for over a year now. It's FINALLY getting exciting!! There is... so much chaos in store. I am so fucking excited.

Once again, I'm so grateful for all the love and kudos on this fic. Y'all's comments brighten my entire day. Please tell me what you think! (...or if there are any typos. LMAOO)

Chapter 6: Hungry?

Summary:

After living with the skeletons for a few months, you've gotten used to it as much as possible. You go to a few different classes with minimal catastrophe. (CW: misgendering of main character, a creepy guy shows up and hits on you for a sec) Taco Bell ensues.

Three weeks. It took three weeks to finally, finally get all of your stuff unpacked and moved in. Everything now had a place. No more fucking boxes.

You’d never much liked moving. You’d only had to do it a few times throughout college. Even in the days when you still lived in the dorms, you only had to move once a year, rather than every semester, like some schools did. Once you’d gotten the apartment, you’d been excited to not have to move again for a while.

Because that had gone exactly as planned.

“Hey, I’m making celebratory omelets if anyone wants some,” you shouted from the kitchen.

“what’re we celebrating?” Sans called from the living room. He was watching his soap opera on full volume, but he would change it to some random Netflix comedian every time you or Papyrus walked in. You weren’t sure who he was trying to fool.

“I finally unpacked my last box,” you half-shouted.

They’d probably be more like fancy scrambled eggs. You had yet to ever make an actual omelet. They tasted about the same, amway.

“was it hiding, or something? the box.”

“Nah, I just shove things in corners sometimes when I don’t immediately feel like dealing with them.”

“same.”

You added a few eggs to the pan for the next batch. You tried to remember what Sans liked in his eggs.

“You like green onions and… bacon bits, right?”

“and sausage, if we have it. green onions optional.”

“Thanks.”

“no prob.” Sans sipped on his coffee (all black with just one spoonful of sugar, if you recalled correctly... which you didn't. He actually used one CUP of sugar). He read the local newspaper on his phone. Usually he would read the physical paper, but with the recent weather… digital was easier. Not that you’d expect the kid that normally delivered it to have to share the roads with those tall, scary snow plows on his bike.

The week after Fall break, the freeze had hit.

It wasn’t like the town wasn’t used to harsh weather conditions. Blizzards were not uncommon that time of year. It was that five inches of snow had fallen in less than an hour.

Temperatures had dropped overnight. It had come unexpectedly - more or less during the last warm spell of the year. Everyone with a normal sleep schedule hadn’t been able to prepare for the storm.

Papyrus had woken first that day, ever the morning skeleton. It had never snowed this much underground. He’d moved his plants away from the window before they got too cold.

You’d been next. Your alarm for work hadn’t gone off, but your backup had. The heater hadn’t fully kicked in yet, though, so rolling out of bed and into the cold was not an attractive prospect.

You stumbled to the kitchen for your morning pick-me-up, not expecting to find Papyrus having a wrestling match with the front door.

“Whoa, dude! What are you doing?”

Papyrus stopped and turned to you with a blank stare.

“The door’s stuck.”

“Yup.” You could almost hear the crickets chirping. “You need a hand with that, or…”

“No.” His eyes flicked to the door and then back at you. “Maybe?”

“Hold on, I have a dumb idea.”

You went into one of the bathrooms and rummaged through the larger of the drawers. Having found what you were looking for, you made your way back to the front of the house.

“What is that?” Papyrus asked. He watched while you plugged the hair dryer into an extension cord and aimed it at the door. You flipped the switch and it clicked on with a whirr.

“If we melt the snow from the inside, we can get out.”

“That’s…” the stupidest idea he’d ever heard. “... an idea.”

Suffice to say, it hadn’t worked. Which had been fine, seeing as work and classes had been canceled for the day while the roads were cleared and salted. Eventually, Sans had gotten up too, to check the pipes outside. Without proper prep, they were bursting all over the neighborhood.

Your house had been no exception. Luckily, the three of you had the foresight to get it fixed as soon as possible by scheduling an appointment the moment you were all awake. Besides, with the water still occasionally (but at least, less frequently) leaking through the ceiling lights, the pipes were likely due for maintenance all over the house. Your temporary solutions would only last so long.

“I’m at least glad we’re finally taking care of that,” you had said. “For good, I mean.”

“ditto. i love hot baths too much to keep having to warn papyrus of when not to cook.”

“What do you mean?”

“snrk. the water keeps leaking through and spoiling his masterpieces.”

You had laughed at that.

Since you’d moved in, you’d been able to spend more idle time with your new roommates. You’d learned a great deal about Papyrus. He loved plants, but had a very unfortunate black thumb. He made sure his phone was never at the table. And, despite Sans’ constant jokes about his bad cooking, he occasionally made a decent microwaved meal. Papyrus was not nearly as awkward as he had been upon your first impressions. He was dorky in an endearing way.

Sans, as you’d gotten to know, was an avid television and movie enjoyer, from the late nights you’d spent sharing a wall with him. As much as you knew he’d never admit to it, he really enjoyed the more romantic and dramatic stuff. One night you could have sworn you heard Let It Go blasting, but you chalked it up to being tired. Your suspicions had been confirmed the next morning when you saw the Frozen menu screen still pulled up on the TV. It had been a DVD - definitely not an accident.

You never brought it up, of course. Guilty pleasures were guilty pleasures.

Oh, and both of them were incredibly loud. The walls between rooms were thin, but thick enough to at least muffle half the stuff that went on in the house. You had a suspicion that Papyrus was hiding a cat somewhere in the house, what with the occasional fur on the couch. Of course, you made no assumptions, nor any judgements. Maybe one of them had brought a fuzzier monster friend over. There were plenty of days when just one of you was in the house at a time.

Anyway, you’d had no reason to need to set any serious rules about guests yet. You only really came home to sleep, eat, and shower in the past few weeks. With school being out in a week or so, you were begrudgingly looking forward to some potential renegotiations. Not that there had been any problems. You were just used to shitty roommates.

You set the plates down just as Sans had wrapped up the episode he’d been watching. He came into the kitchen with a blissful expression on his face. You had to laugh.

“Never thought I’d see someone this excited about the smell of eggs.”

“oh, nah, they still smell awful. i just can’t wait to eat.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Dig in.” You handed him a pair of chopsticks.

“the fuck?” You snorted.

“Utensils are in the dishwasher, and the chef gets first pick.” You twirled your teaspoon like a baton and waggled it between your two fingers. He rolled his eyes with a smile.

“i’ll make do. can’t be that hard.” Oh, but it was. Watching him try was hilarious, but your generous side overpowered your sadistic one. You caved and gave him the spoon. “thanks,” he smiled.

“Of course.”

“how’s work been?” Sans asked through a mouthful of egg.

“Pretty normal. Burgerpants is doing well, he’s picked it up pretty quickly.”

Over Fall break, before the freeze, Burgerpants’ interview had gone well. At least, you assumed so, as he’d been hired. For whatever reason, none of the managers were showing up to train him. Considering that training was their job, that made no sense.

You knew this because of a certain coworker that frequently complained about having to train the ‘incompetent adult teen’. You’d texted Ana about scheduling you with Burgerpants, so you could at least assist with the training duties.

Your coworker hadn’t complained since, but still consistently hinted that she still thought everyone around her was incompetent.

“The espresso machine has broken twice this month, if you can believe it. I think it’s either something to do with the steaming wand or the automatic espresso grinding attachment.”

“you had someone to fix that, right?”

“Yeah, they usually come in during the afternoons, when work is slow. Makes the most sense.”

“ah. well, let me know if you ever need more immediate help.”

“Why? Don’t tell me you just randomly know how to fix our specific model of espresso machines.”

“nah, but i can see, and i’ve got at least half a brain. instruction manuals aren’t exactly hard to come by.”

“And you’d do that for free?”

“what gave you that impression?” he joked, taking another sip of his coffee. “probably not, but i’d be able to get there faster than any other guy. especially if something like that happened in the mornings, when it’s busier.”

“I mean, I definitely wouldn’t mind. I’d have to ask one of the managers, but I’m sure they’d be okay with that. Thanks for the offer, dude.”

“of course. you know what,” he paused, scooping up the last of his eggs. “you could just pay me back in food.”

“Deal.”

Since the freeze, your pipes had been fixed, and thoroughly inspected. They were now (more or less) freeze proof, but just in case, you kept the sink running upstairs… which had consequently led to icicles forming on the kitchen ceiling. You broke one off and stirred your own coffee with it.

“I should probably get that looked at today,” you said, mostly to yourself. Sans nodded in agreement.

“i’ll call a somebody if you talk to them when they get here.”

“Works for me.” You started cleaning up the kitchen before realizing you had classes later. “Ah, actually… I might have to pass that torch to Papyrus. I’ve got classes - but he’ll be here all day, right?”

“should be. that’s what he told me.”

“Could you let him know what’s going on? I’d really appreciate it.”

“yeah, for sure.”

“Thanks.” You checked the time. “I really gotta run. I’ll do the rest of the dishes tonight.”

“don’t worry about it for now, go to class. we’ll see you later.”

“Later,” you said. You grabbed your bag from your room and checked twice for your phone, keys, wallet, and headphones. Once all was secure, you drove towards the campus.

One of your first classes was a design class. You were taking it two semesters late. It was causing all sorts of problems for the rest of your schedule so you sucked it up and took one of the morning classes.

The professor often made the entire class stand up for random critiques, despite there being no due dates or warnings about it. You hated that. If you were only getting 3 credit hours for a 6-hour-a-week class, you should at least get half of the class time to work on projects. But, no.

The professor would ramble on, repeating the same instructions over and over, slamming the table while talking. It was incredibly overstimulating. Then, she started to belittle you and treat you like you didn’t know what you were doing. Despite being a more liberal Boomer, she was still a Boomer. She still hated the younger generation.

You couldn’t blame her. Not really. Teaching middle schoolers for over 30 years wore down a person. Besides, she was practically retired. And it wasn’t like you’d have to deal with her again after this semester.

That didn’t mean dropping the class was any less appealing. Unfortunately, the deadline for that had passed already.

“Are you even close to finishing your project?” Gwenyth asked.

“No, dude. And I’ve been working my ass off. I’ve barely slept this week.” Hunter responded.

“She needs to chill with these deadlines. We have other classes, you know.” Gwenyth said.

“Isn’t she telling us what the final project is this week?” You asked, not looking up from your project. If the professor wasn’t talking, you hoped she wouldn’t start. You needed this time to work.

“Oh god, seriously? We’re not even halfway done with this one. I can’t believe she expects us to complete this project and the final in two weeks.” Hunter sighed. He was painting his maquette. His was impressive - out of the many different bugs students had chosen to model, he had chosen a pretty ambitious one. He was doing an orchid mantis, and going over the top by hand-painting the tiniest details. He had an eye for texture and color. The whole class felt like Hunter was going to outshine whatever they were throwing together.

“And most of us work, too,” Gwenyth agreed, practically drizzling glue onto her own maquette. “There’s no way we’ll be able to finish by finals.”

“I’m seriously considering sending an email to the dean. My friend has a different professor for this class and she told me he’s so chill. If they did transfers… I’d take anything else at this point.” You groaned. “My hand is killing me. I’ve never had it this bad before.”

“I know, dude. That wire project destroyed whatever was left of my wrist. Our professor really puts the art into arthritis.” Hunter snorted.

“How I wish you were joking.” Gwenyth sighed.

“Is everybody at a good stopping point? Because I don’t know about y’all, but I don’t wanna be here any longer than I have to. Would you be opposed to getting out fifteen minutes early?”

You started packing up immediately.

“Yeah, that was what I thought.” The professor nodded, grabbed her bag and half-finished coffee, and walked out.

You followed not long after.

The next class you had (after your lunch break) was math. You finished a little earlier than usual, and accidentally opened the door while the previous class was still in there. You hadn’t realized how early you were until after you’d asked if this was Precalculus and Trigonometry.

“Oh, no, young man. This is the big boy class, this is big boy Calculus.” He laughed in your face and slammed the door.

What a dick.

That class eventually ended, and your class was anything but eventful. Having taken a precalc class in high school meant this entire semester - and probably the next one - was almost entirely a review of stuff you’d already learned. Not that you could really complain about the free GPA boost.

Once class was over you had a bit of a gap before the next one and decided to treat yourself to a snack. You were really craving chips at the moment, so you headed to the campus’ food court. Sometimes they had slushie machines in there, too, but it was too cold to get anything like that.

When you walked in, it was empty. A lady standing in the dining area was on her phone.

“We’re not open until 5.” she said, looking up at you then back down at her phone.

“Okay!” You said. You turned on one foot and walked back in the other direction. Damn, you’d really wanted those chips.

There were vending machines all over campus, but you didn’t want your card information getting stolen by a fake card reader. The machines claimed to accept five dollar bills, but they never accepted anything but ones. You ended up just grabbing yourself some barbeque chips from the machine in the visual arts building, then heading outside to enjoy the sun.

You had some homework that would be due in less than a week for another one of your classes, but this one was really stumping you. The professor was allowing the students more conceptual freedom, and allowing them to rely less on observation. That meant you could draw whatever the fuck you wanted, as long as it still followed her prompt.

You’d started already, but you kept getting stuck. You’d considered starting over a few times, but you didn’t have the time nor the energy to do it all over again. You brainstormed how to make the project at the very least a little more interesting for yourself while you waited. Doodling in your sketchbook at least helped you take your mind off of things a little bit.

“Hey, are you drawing?”

You took a headphone out, pausing the music you’d been listening to. Some random student had walked up to you and plopped down next to you on the bench. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and you hated that it wouldn’t be the last. You gagged silently when he sat down. It smelled like he hadn’t showered in weeks.

“Yeah, just trying to take my mind off of things.” You cleared your throat.

“That’s really good. I like to draw, too,” the dude said, as he started pulling something out of his bag. Oh boy. Here it comes. “I’m thinking about switching my major. Do you watch anime?”

“No, not really, but my ex-roommate does.” You said.

“I like My Hero Academia. You should watch it. It’s about-”

Your phone went off, reminding you to start walking to class. The student kept talking about the show. You hated interrupting people, but you had to.

“Sorry, man, I gotta go, I have class in five minutes.” You grabbed your bag and started walking, sketchbook still in hand.

“Can I get your number? You’re really pretty.” He asked. He grabbed his bag and was starting to follow you.

“Um, I don’t really give my number out to strangers. I really have to go.” You walked faster. He kept up with you, staring you down and licking his lips.

“My name is Jared. Now we’re not strangers. Can I get your number, pretty girl?”

“No, I have to go to class. And, you’re confused, man, I’m a guy.”

“Well, I usually get out of class around 2:45, if you want to give me your number later, handsome.” He winked. As he speedwalked to keep up with you, he was breathing heavily in your direction. The smell was indescribable.

“Jared. Buddy. I’m straight,” you lied. You’d stopped walking. “Sorry, dude. Don’t ask for my number again. I have a girlfriend.” You lied again. Please leave me alone.

“Oh, okay.” He started to walk away, looking dejected and hurt. You tried not to feel bad, but people pleasing could only go so far. You were starting to get seriously creeped out.

You made it to class, just a few minutes late.

“And that is why Fragonard’s painting is a visual depiction of sexual intercourse, with the shoe and foot representing male genitalia mid-climax, and the dress representing the female counterparts.”

You must’ve fallen asleep, because that comment made you jolt upright in your seat.

“The fucking what?” Your friend, Ahn, whispered. You suppressed a laugh.

“I love this class, dude. She’s so funny.” You whispered back. You wished you’d been at least half awake for the rest of the lecture. Luckily, you’d have the same professor again for Intro to Modern Art. You looked forward to it very much.

After class, it was starting to get dark. You’d forgotten how early the sky went dark this time of year. It always threw you off. Luckily your car wasn’t too far.

 

you
hey I’m grabbing Taco Baco otw home, u want smth

 

sans
uuuhhhhh

sans
u paying for it?

 

you
i’m considering it

 

sans
can u get me a crunchwrap? no nacho cheese extra beef

 

you
The combo isn’t much more expensive, u want that instead?

 

sans
maybe

sans
yes

sans
please

 

you
didn’t take you for a beggar lolol

 

sans
i’m a beggar for you bell

 

Your heart stopped. What the fuck.

 

sans
TACO BELL fucks sake

 

He wasn’t flirting. Just a typo. God, you were probably still anxious from that creep earlier.

 

you
LMAOAO ok sure i’ll get u the combo if u share the cinnamon twists

 

sans
>:(

sans
Fine

 

You
Lol

 

sans
Thank uuuu

 

you
Np dude :)

 

You put your phone down, then picked it back up to order online. You swore whoever invented mobile ordering was the patron saint of introverts. It let you customize stuff with minimal social interaction, and they almost always got it right. It didn’t take you long to get there, and when you got back, Sans was on the couch, actually watching a comedian for once.

“You know, if your brother caught you watching that guy, he’d give you a lecture about how offensive he is.” You couldn’t see it, but you knew that had made him grin.

“you got my taco bell?” Yep, definitely smiling. You heard it in his voice. You tossed the bag in his general direction. “nice.”

“Don’t eat my stuff, I gotta put on my pjs and take a shower.” Normally you’d eat first, but the memory of the guy’s BO could only be scrubbed from your memory and body with the help of a cheese grater and maybe some coarse iron wool.

Topless with shorts, as the inside temperature allowed for, you headed back to the living room. Sans was a few bites into the cinnamon twists.

“Gimmie that.” You snatched the bag from his hands and shoved a fistful into your mouth.

“you look like a chipmunk.” he laughed. You bowed dramatically.

“You flatter me so.” He smiled and stole another twist.

“move, i can’t see the offensive comedian.” You hadn’t realized you were in front of the TV. “don’t worry, i don’t agree with half the stuff this guy says. aside from the blatant homophobia he’s actually got a few good jokes… sometimes.”

“That’s okay, I figured. He’s made apologies for it, I don’t really care all that much. I don’t think the money from streaming this goes directly to him, anyway.” You heard the door jingling moments after you sat down. “Shit, actually - can you change it? I don’t want an earful from Papyrus.”

Sans scrambled for the remote. Seconds before his brother made it through the door, he changed it to the soap opera that you’d grown to recognize, from the many nights of hearing it through the thin walls of your adjacent bedrooms. When Papyrus walked in, one of the main characters had a gun, two of them were tied up and crying, and the rest were hiding (very unsuccessfully) behind a desk, the curtains, and a mirror.

“I KNEW you watched Shocking Ages in Flintwood!”

“i dunno what you’re talking about,” Sans mumbled, growing redder in the face by the second. He frantically flicked through to some random sports channel.

“No, you can’t hide it now. I know your secret. Who do you ship the most?”

Sans pulled his hood over his head.

“I am just messing with you. I will pretend I saw nothing.” Papyrus said, walking into the kitchen to put away the groceries he’d been hauling in from his car.

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see Supernatural until I was 20 years old. It came out when I was in middle school.”

“it does, actually.” He pulled his hood down, still lightly dusted red. You smiled.

“Eat your food, dude. Or I will.” You joked. He seemed to feel better after that.

You accidentally over-flossed in an attempt to get all of the lettuce chunks and meat bits out of your teeth. It wasn’t too terrible. Might hurt a little in the morning, but it would be fine.

When you laid in bed that night, you could hear Sans watching the first episode of Supernatural through the wall. You couldn’t help but smile.

Notes:

This chapter kind of jumps back and forth in the beginning. There's a significant time skip, because I got tired of writing days back to back while months were passing irl. That being said please let me know if the transitions between these time jumps are too confusing - I'm always willing to make edits after posting! Sorry these chapters come out so slowly. I'm starting to realize I post pretty much quarterly (4 times a year) so I've officially decided to stick to that pattern.

on a scale of 1 to HUNGRY, can you tell that i'm tired of eating ramen? LMAOOO (i want taco bell sm rn)

EDIT: MY BOYFRIEND BOUGHT ME TACO BELL. LETS FUCKING GO

Chapter 7: (Not) Dating Tense!

Summary:

Classic rom-com "one-character-runs-smack-into-the-other" situation featuring a longboard and a very juicy burger. Papyrus thinks for like 1000 words or something and forgets about his soup. Pistachio lattes as apologies. Drag shows -> sexy skeleton alert!

If you had to choose your least favorite thing about being in college, it had to be advising. Once a semester, you had to meet with your major-specific advisor for “advice” on which classes to take the next semester. Normally, in the Fall semester, you would have done this in late October or early November. Unfortunately, you’d missed a few weeks due to a certain family member's death. And, unfortunately, that meant you’d be inconveniencing a random professor by taking up ten minutes of his time and a half-page of printer ink.

Delightful.

You’d felt this unnecessary, as there were at least three separate places where major-specific course recommendations and requirements were listed on the university’s website. Not everyone used that resource, apparently, to such an extent that telling every grown adult on campus which classes they’d need to take to graduate on time was deemed a necessary ordeal.

You were currently walking away from your advisor’s office with a useless sheet of paper in-hand. You’d already planned out your classes for the semester, but because of the advising hold, all of the classes you’d planned to take were now full.

What was the point of being an honors student with scheduling priority if you didn’t get to use it?

In the library, you sat at a computer, logged on, and began the search for available courses. It looked like you might have to request a prerequisite override - some of the only classes with seats available required prerequisites you hadn’t yet taken. If your override was approved, you’d be taking Writing for Communication, Art and the Computer, Survey of the Arts II, Intro to Modern Art, and Geology.

You wondered if anyone you knew might be in a class with you. You doubted that Papyrus would, but you refused to squash your tiny, unexpected glimmer of hope. You shot him a text.

 

you
Hey have you done your schedule yet?

 

Papyrus (the Great)
I’ve had mine done for a few hours now! Why do you ask!!

 

You snorted. The exclamation points were unnecessary, but kind of adorable.

 

you
Curiosity

you
What classes u taking?

 

Papyrus (the Great)
I am not sure! Let me find a screenshot of my schedule!

 

Papyrus sent you a screenshot of his schedule. It was kind of hard to read. Your messaging app had turned the image blurry. You zoomed in to try and see which classes and what times he was taking them at.

 

you
Can you send your schedule again? It came out kind of blurry

 

Papyrus (the Great)
Of course!

 

One minute passed. Then another. You realized that it may be because it was the busiest time of day for the University’s wifi. Everyone was either off for lunch, using their computers for homework, or in class, using them to play chess while their professors gave their lectures.

The image came through blurry again. You didn’t ask him to send it again, knowing now that the image would most likely clear up after five o’clock or so. You thanked him and put your phone away.

Damn. There was basically no overlap of your classes and his. It looked like you might be able to snag lunch with him on-campus once in a while. At least you’d have dinners together at home with the three of you?

The thought hit you harder than the bus hit Regina George in Mean Girls. At home. As in your home. You hadn’t considered that your current residence might be permanent until now.

You lived in a house you owned. As far as you were aware, it was paid for. In today’s housing market, that was a huge deal. Most of your generation could barely afford rent. It was predicted to get worse before it got better, in the upcoming years. And you owned a home.

Thoughts of repainting rooms, tearing down walls, and tiling every available surface in the house rushed at you all at once. The urge to move yours and Papyrus’s plants to a vegetable garden in your backyard, to pick out new bedsheets and curtains, to rip up the ugly carpet in the living room seemed so much more appealing now. It must have been all those years watching HGTV with your grandma.

Your heart sank when you realized you’d still be sharing ownership of the house with Sans and Papyrus. What would they think of your impromptu renovations? Could you even afford them if you wanted to? You knew the answer was no.

And, anyway, you’d be moving out of the house eventually. Investing in such major changes during such a short residence period meant you wouldn’t really get to appreciate them, and when the home was sold, the next residents would probably change everything again.

You sighed. College needed to be your biggest focus right now, anyway. The computer had shut off in front of you while you’d been daydreaming. Your own laptop (charging via the computer tower you’d been using) winked back on. It had a little over 10% battery power, so you logged out of the library computer and shoved your laptop into your bag.

Your stomach growled, but you had a class in twenty minutes. That wasn’t enough time to wait in line at the subway place next door, nor enough time to walk all the way back to the cafeteria and wait even longer for a single burger and some undercooked fries. Not that the burgers were bad anymore. They’d stopped seasoning them with what you’d guessed was ghost peppers, so the quality had actually improved over the past few weeks. They were juicy, a little pink in the middle, and the school had started using more high-quality buns.

On second thought, maybe you did have enough time for a cafeteria burger.

Fifteen minutes later, you regretted thinking that. The cafeteria was a long ride and an even longer walk from the building your class was in, so you’d have to book it to get there. You’d have to eat your ketchup-less, topping-less burger in a hurry. You’d skipped the fries entirely after realizing how late you’d be to class if you didn’t leave as soon as you got your hands on a burger.

The burger was still in your hand when you threw down your longboard and hopped onto it outside the cafeteria. You’d have to take a few shortcuts to get there on time. There were so many sharp turns on your route that it made your head spin, and the burger in your hand looked less and less appealing.

One more sharp turn and you’d be at your building, with a minute and a half to spare. You sped up as you turned the corner, victoriously taking a bite of the still-warm burger, and smacked right into something hard.

Momentum threw you forward, and who or whatever you smacked into tumbled back. Your board went flying back behind you, skidding into some bushes. You felt your hands scrape the concrete as you caught yourself - bad idea, you could have broken your arms that way - as the rest of your weight pressed into the figure below you.

You shook your head quickly, trying to right your spinning mind and get back your grip on reality. You blinked twice and took in the sight of who you’d hit.

Fuck. Fuuuuuck.

It was Papyrus.

He’d been coming from the library, you thought, probably to have lunch. You never saw him on the way to class because, A. you never came this way, and B. you usually did not get a burger to-go ten minutes before class.

You realized that your hands were on either side of his torso. Papyrus’s hands were pressed to your chest, keeping you from smashing your forehead into his face. A knee was rather firmly pressed up between your roommate’s legs. You felt the rush of heat to your face. With most of your weight on top of his body, Papyrus was pinned to the ground.

His pupils were like pinpricks of light in his sockets, and then it hit you that you were staring. He was as red in the face as you felt.

Um. Why weren’t you moving??

Papyrus scrambled out from under your weight, righting himself and brushing the dirt off. Without him under you, your face nearly smacked into the cement. You’d never seen anyone move so fast. You were stunned, sitting back on your knees now, while Papyrus recovered from the uncomfortably physical encounter.

You struggled to form words while you stood, blubbering what sounded like an apology, at least to you. You picked your board out from the bushes and ran lightning-speed into the building and bolted into your classroom.

If you weren’t sure you’d been bright red before, you were sure now. The warm air met your heated skin like a weighted blanket, instantly forming a thin film of sweat over your entire body. It was hot indoors, thanks to the department’s severe lack of A/C, and its abundance of heaters.
The sting of the scrapes on your hands drew your attention away from the temperature. The adrenaline rush had faded, and you were now facing the consequences of your decision to go get that burger.

You went to grab said burger off of your desk, despite your dirtied, scabbing hands, but nothing was there aside from the notebook you’d pulled out. Your eyes widened in either anger or surprise, you weren’t sure which, as it occurred to you that your burger was most likely sitting outside in the dirt.

After all that, you didn’t even have a burger to show for it. God. Fucking. Damnit. You still had nearly three hours before you’d be able to get another one.

Your phone pinged. It was Papyrus’ ringtone. He’d insisted upon having a different one than everyone else, in case of a home emergency that needed immediate attention. You’d forgotten to turn your ringer off before class, and received the side-eye of the century from your professor. Emergencies be damned, Papyrus was not someone you wanted to speak to right now. Plus, your professor had a no-phones policy, so you had a decent enough excuse.

Five minutes and a barrage of text messages later, Papyrus gave up on contacting you. You were probably in class, or too embarrassed to answer right now. Completely understandable, he thought, given the situation.

You’d obviously been running late for class, and judging by the burger you’d left outside, you’d just come from the cafeteria. When you’d run inside the building, he’d picked it up and thrown it away.

While Papyrus wouldn’t be caught dead eating a greasy thing like that, he had the decency to throw away the litter. He thoroughly washed his hands afterwards, though.

Now in the cafeteria, he was attempting to text, asking if you’d like for him to bring you a burger in or after class. He didn’t know how you liked them, so he asked about that as well. And, of course, whether you were okay. He knew very little about the human body, aside from that it was a bit more delicate than his own (thanks to skin and organs, and all that) so he wasn’t sure just how badly you were hurt.

You may have looked an insane mix of hungry, angry, and mortified, but Papyrus had gotten out of the crash unscathed. Well, in the physical sense. He didn’t think he’d ever recover from the embarrassment or fear of being pinned by someone he’d previously assumed physically weaker than him.

It hadn’t really occurred to him that you had that much heft to you, that much strength. He knew the accident was just that - an accident - but he couldn’t have ignored the confusing and terrifying mix of emotions that had pulsed through him in such a short moment.

The embarrassment was neither confusing nor conflicting. Mortification was something he was used to. And fear was something he hadn’t stopped feeling since before he’d left the Underground for the surface, so there was no real surprise there. What was confusing and terrifying was the positive emotion in the mix, one which he couldn’t put his finger on.

Was it comfort? Maybe a thrill, from the adventurous nature of it? He just wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the embarrassment causing his bright blush had not been the only thing heating up his bones during that encounter. He wasn’t sure yet whether or not he wanted to keep thinking about it. Something about it seemed uncomfortable, wrong. Taboo. But something else nagged at him, begging him to understand.

He shivered, not having noticed the chill of the outside until he snapped his attention back to his now-lukewarm soup. It had lost some of its heat due to his outdoor/balcony seating decision. Papyrus had some kind of bean soup, with assorted vegetables and a flavor he couldn’t wait to try and recreate. He’d actually been making improvements to his cooking recently, even branching out to experiment with existing recipes to alter them to his own taste.

He’d started bringing his own mini-bottle of medium-hot sauce with him, a new-ish flavor he’d been drawn close to in the past few months. He put it on some foods more than others, tentatively but curiously reaching out to try and trust new things.

His therapist had been the one to suggest this pro-trying-new-things mindset, and Papyrus had initially (and creatively) interpreted it as branching out through his passion for culinary delight. Both Papyrus and his therapist had been pleasantly surprised at the implementation of the suggestion. It had started working toward giving Papyrus a renewed sense of confidence.

It was, at the very least, better than the sense of confidence he used to have. The one that relied on complete and total control in and of the Underground. Papyrus was, slowly but surely, learning to trust an ever-changing environment. His support system had only grown with you slowly making your way into his and Sans’s lives. You were such an unexpected development to them, but such a joy to be around, and it gave both brothers a much better outlook for life on the surface.

Papyrus’s relationship with Sans had grown, too, with all of their new and terrifying challenges. Sans was so much more responsible than he’d been Underground, applying himself to the things he did best, instead of flitting from one passion to another. He’d given Papyrus an older brother figure again, one of the few things he’d truly missed since learning to take care of himself.

There was no more of the overprotectiveness they’d been forced to uphold before. The bitterness of a loveless, emotionless past-siblinghood faded more every day. Sure, they still had fights, but they weren’t about survival, or careful decisions. Not anymore. They were more akin to the things siblings should argue about: what movie they would watch, whose turn it was on the big couch, what to have for dinner.

The additional domesticity you had brought with you had warmed their home and their hearts even more. Your enthusiasm in spite of the world crumbling around you was such a refreshing fountain of emotion to Papyrus, nearly overwhelming with the lack of positivity he’d been allowed to show in order to survive. The exposure you were giving them to humans, and to a normal life, drew the three of you together like nothing the skeletons had seen in their lifetime.

Lost in thought, Papyrus’s soup grew colder. Not that it mattered much. It would taste the same. He chugged the soup like it was gatorade at a sporting event, determined to get at least a little homework done while he was still in the caf. By the time he washed his meal down with actual gatorade, his phone dinged with your response. Had it been three hours already?

 

you
I will gladly take you up on that burger. meet me at the library?

you
oh and pls can you put ketchup and pickles on it ty

you
sorry about earlier i was in a rush and i wasnt lopking

you
looking*

 

The quadruple text sent a bolt of energy through him. Just seeing your name on his screen was such an uplifting feeling.

 

Papyrus (the Great)
Of course!! The library is perfect! I will gladly put pickles and ketchup on your burger and bring it to you ACAP!

 

you
I think its ASAP Papyrus

 

Papyrus (the Great)
I think not! I will be bringing you your burger As Chivalrously As Possible!

 

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. He already seemed over the whole fiasco. You seriously admired his ability to recover and follow-up like that. You had barely apologized before Papyrus had started offering to make it up to you, even though you had crashed into him. Once you were in the library, you stopped by the coffee kiosk for a pick-me-up, as well as an obligatory ‘I’m Sorry’ drink for Papyrus.

They were advertising a new flavor for the upcoming semester. Pistachio lattes and pistachio cold foam. You asked if they had any in stock yet, and they did. The company had sent a shipment too early, and while they technically weren’t supposed to sell it yet, it meant extra, early profits. You ordered two hot pistachio lattes - one for yourself and one for Papyrus.

You picked a table close to the nearest entrance, and made to grab your phone to inform Papyrus of your location. Before you could, though, he appeared in the doorway nearest the café. He didn’t see you immediately, but when he did, his face lit up. As soon as he sat down, your name was called for the order.

You started getting up to go grab the drinks, but the barista brought them to you. This was one of the less busy cafés on campus, you remembered, so there was less pressure on both its employees and its customers. You opened your mouth to thank her, but she spoke first.

“Hope you and your boyfriend enjoy your coffee,” she offered as she walked back to the kiosk, unbothered.

Your mouth shut immediately at the comment. You thought to correct her, but Papyrus would be the only one to hear the correction, and you’d humiliated him and yourself plenty for one day. Papyrus laughed nervously - or easily, you weren’t sure - and it calmed your own nerves. You relaxed and handed him his latte. He passed you your burger.

“I wasn’t sure how much ketchup you liked, so I just brought a little paper cup with ketchup in it. I realize it’s not very effective for dipping, now that I think about it.” Papyrus squinted one eye in apology, his face twisting oddly.

“Thank you. You totally didn’t have to.”

“You bought me a coffee, and I didn’t even ask. I say we’re even.” He smiled.

“It’s a pistachio latte,” you explained. “I’ve never tried it. I thought we might try it together.”

Papyrus beamed at that. He felt something flutter in his ribcage, and recognized some of that same warmth he’d felt earlier. You were such a thoughtful friend.

“Thank you.” You nodded.

“I feel like I owe it to you after knocking you over like that earlier.” You flushed.

“Nonsense. Knocking me over is no ordinary feat. I should be congratulating you.” Papyrus joked. You faked being offended, before laughing along with him.

“Okay, fair. A toast to my workouts paying off, then.” You held your still burning-hot cup to the sky, pinky out, a certain sparkle in your eye that caught Papyrus off-guard.

“You work out? Since when?” Papyrus asked, tapping his paper cup to yours. “I mean, like, when in the day do you have time to work out?”

“Every once in a while I’ll go after lunch, if I don’t have class or work. I don’t want to show up to either smelling like B.O. I tend to work out right before I leave campus, since the gym is nearby.” You started to take a sip just before burning your tongue - it was still too hot to drink. “Plus, I have a few small weights at home that I use in the mornings or evenings, if I have a little extra energy.”

“I had no idea.” Papyrus said. “I mean, not that I can’t tell. You wear a lot of long sleeves, it’s not like it doesn’t show…” He started fumbling over his words, trying apologetically to make up for the accidental semi-implied insult.

“It has been colder, and I don’t work out to the point where I’m completely jacked. I just work out so that it gets the happy hormones flowing. It makes me feel nice, and it keeps me healthy.” You smiled.

“We could go together sometime,” Papyrus offered. He picked at the lip of his coffee cup, a sort of calming fidget you’d seen him do once or twice.

“Totally,” you agreed. “I’d love to have a spotter, or to spot you. We can be gym bros.”

“What is a jimbro?” Papyrus asked. By the confusion in his eyes you knew he was genuinely asking.

“It’s sort of a meme. That’s just what friends call each other at the gym, I guess.”

“Ah.” He nodded. He took a long, silent sip of his coffee, seemingly avoiding eye contact.

Yours was probably cool enough to drink now. Upon the first sip, something was immediately familiar.

“Oh, that’s so weird.” You said quietly.

“What is?” Papyrus looked up at you.

“This doesn’t taste like pistachios. It tastes like… I dunno, something else?”

“I’d be happy to help you narrow it down,” Papyrus offered.

“I’m not sure I can describe it. It’s like sugar cookies, but not quite. Kind of vanilla-y, but it’s got something else to it.”

“Hmm. That is odd,” Papyrus agreed. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

You shrugged. “We’ll see. I’ll definitely text you if I do.”

You were almost finished with your food and coffee when your phone buzzed. You wiped your hands on your jacket before unlocking your phone, earning a poorly concealed look of disgust from Papyrus.

“Shit,” you said aloud. “I almost forgot I promised my friend I’d bring her downtown tonight.”

“Oh, fun! What are you going for? Just for fun?”

“We’re going to this drag show. They’re doing a special performance for charity, or something. My friend told me they’re donating all of their tips from tonight’s show.” You explained. “They don’t normally perform in the middle of the week like this. It’s usually on a Friday.”

“I’ve heard about those,” Papyrus grinned. “I’ve never been to one.”

“I can definitely ask if you can come. I mean, I’m sure that if I’m the one providing a ride, I can bring whoever I want.” You smiled. “It does get pretty loud, though, if that bothers you. I usually bring earplugs.”

“I don’t own earplugs. No place to put them.” Papyrus joked. “But Sans has a pair of sound-proof ‘gamer headphones’. I’m certain he would be willing to part with them for an evening. Besides, I’m pretty sure he has more than one pair.”

“That’s great!” You answered, excited about the prospect of introducing Papyrus to this kind of thing. You rarely went out, but drag shows were consistently a great time. The people at the bar, Bottoms Up, were always so nice. There was a $10 coverage fee that dropped to $5 on the nights the Queens and Kings performed, so that patrons had more cash to tip the performers with.

“When are you going to leave?” Papyrus asked.

“We were thinking about grabbing a bite to eat first, but since I had a late lunch I don’t think we’re still going to. She lives, like, twenty minutes away, so I’ll probably have to leave in a couple hours.”

“Are you going to have enough time to get ready?” Papyrus asked, frowning a bit.

“Of course,” you smiled. “I don’t usually dress too fancy. The attention should be on the performers. If I wanted to go to the bar to blow people away, I’d do it when all eyes weren’t on the show. Their confidence alone is incredible. You’ll love the makeup, too.”

You never really did much makeup, but just a touch of glitter wouldn’t hurt in a place like Bottoms Up. You’d explained the dual meaning of the bar’s name to Papyrus - not that he didn’t know it already - while you were driving him back to the house. Papyrus hadn’t said much, but that cute blush had crept back up his neck and onto his face a little. You almost didn’t notice, with the sun beginning to dip below the horizon.

You put your earplugs in your bag to take a break from struggling to decide what to wear between two nearly identical shirts. You gave up and picked the one that looked less worn, grabbed a jacket, and knocked before poking your head into Papyrus’s room.

“You almost ready?”

“Almost,” Papyrus grunted in annoyance. He was struggling with the same issue you’d had. He had what looked like six or seven shirts laid out on the bed, hanging on the mirror, and laying on the floor. He was only wearing a pair of sweatpants, just a little darker than his grayish bones.

Without a shirt, he didn’t look much different than a skeleton in a science classroom. You could have sworn he looked just a little shorter at the moment. His frame was softer, despite the rigid lines of bone and ligaments.

“Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to help me pick a shirt?” Papyrus asked, a smirk in his question. Despite the confident flirtatiousness of his question, he shifted in place uncomfortably.

“The red one,” you said without hesitation, pointing toward his bed. “It’ll accentuate your waist, and if you tuck it in, you’ll look casually dazzling.”

“Wow!” Papyrus startled. “I was already leaning toward that one, but you’re right. Thanks for the push in the right direction.”

You nodded and gave him some privacy to change, closing the door after you. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction as the first Queen came onto stage. He lit up like a lightbulb when he watched Mettaton or The Voice on TV, so seeing his reaction to live performers tonight could be something you may never forget.

The amount of emotion he was unafraid to show through his body language was something you admired. He wasn’t very expressive - he had a bad case of RBF, though you weren’t one to judge - but the way he carried himself and the way he grew passionate in conversations was exhilarating in a way you couldn’t explain.

That raw, vulnerable glimpse of him changing, and the flirtatious burst of confidence he’d shown he was capable of cemented in your mind that, okay, Papyrus was hot. You’d known he was cute since the day he spilled chai down your apron, but this was… new. You wanted to pry open this new side of your friend and bask in its precious light.

When he stepped out of his room, you all but melted.

The sleeves of his buttoned-down, silky red top were three-quarter length - by choice, judging by how they looked loosely rolled up. Papyrus had left one button more than necessary left undone at the collar of his shirt, exposing more than you’d decidedly be willing to share with others. The pant legs were creased down the front, ironed to perfection (of course) and the shiny shoes he wore had a significant heel to them, giving him more height than he probably needed.

If he noticed you drooling, he didn’t show it. You knew you weren’t gonna be watching those drag queens at all with him there.

“You ready?” he asked, checking his watch and looking up (and down) at you. You nodded, trying and failing not to give him a similar once-over.

This was going to be a rough night.

Notes:

dear god I'm down bad. I have been reading way too many romance novels.

I'M BACK AGAIN and I will disappear again, probably. Sorry for the cliffhanger (no I'm not AHAHA) but cmon. 4600+ word chapter??? I gotta start limiting myself or this might turn into a novel, or something. wink.

I always appreciate the support and thank y'all for 2000+ views/reads! I love keeping this wonderful fandom alive using (totally not) real experiences I've had and the passion of a 13-year-old that just discovered their first fandom.

My bf and I are gonna be spending our second Valentine's Day together this week, and I'm so grateful to have someone as wonderful as him supporting me (and encouraging me to write skeleton por-) ANYWAY. Love y'all XOXO *throws chapter 7 at you*

to those reading on phones: i genuinely apologize for the longass paragraphs :(

Chapter 8: Work (It)

Summary:

You, Papyrus, and a friend go to a drag show at a gay bar called Bottoms Up. Papyrus' jaw falls off from shock and excitement thanks to a surprising guest star.

Awkward accidental spicy encounter between reader and Papyrus that leads to a serious blurring of lines and intense greying of morals.

Sans talks about science. Eggnog!!

Notes:

Changed the rating to explicit due to some spicy... pining? I guess? Lol

At every stop light on the way to your friend’s house, Papyrus fought the urge to pick at the collar of his shirt. He resisted the need to fiddle with his buttons, for fear of accidentally popping one off. After you had picked the friend up, Papyrus reminded himself of his calming techniques.

Papyrus took in the colorful sky. He felt the wind fill his ribcage as it blew through your open window. He grounded himself in what he could see, and hear, and feel, and focused only on those sensations.

As the three of you got out of the car, Papyrus smiled to himself. You knew what you were doing. You’d done this before. He was safe. Unalone.

“You coming?” you asked, hand outstretched. “I’ll lead the way. We’re not parked far.”

Papyrus blinked. He took your hand and followed behind you and your friend.

It was cooling off more as the sun went down, and you quickly regretted not bringing a thicker jacket. Then you remembered how hot it could get in the bar. You were wearing long pants, so the walk back to the car wouldn’t be that bad.

Papyrus wondered if you were cold. Your hand certainly was.

Your friend had picked up their pace dramatically. You and Papyrus had to speed walk to catch up with her. This was awkward for him, considering the extra height and bulk from his heeled boots. He took long strides and began to glide across the pavement, practically dragging you along while he accelerated.

As you drew closer to Bottoms Up, you could feel the bass of the music through the concrete. It pulsed up through your shoes and filled your head with staticky fuzz. Yup. It was earplug time.

Once your IDs were checked and the cover fee was paid, you made your way into the bar. To your left, there was a bar similar to one that might be in a sports bar. It had a curved countertop on which about half of the people in the building were leaning. The main downside of drag night was that all of the seats at the bar and side tables were filled. You were glad you’d worn comfortable shoes and felt a pang of pity for Papyrus and his (probably uncomfortable) heeled combat boots.

To your right was a much smaller bar, quieter and further separated from the rest of the building by a brick wall with an arched doorway. You stepped in line to order drinks for your companions, but were alerted by an announcement coming from the main room that the drag queens would be performing soon.

Lucky for you, about a third of the line disappeared. Having only standing space meant that you had to fight for a spot in the front if you wanted to see the performance at all. Having a tall, intimidating friend like Papyrus meant you’d have a spot with plenty of space to watch the performance from.

Drinks in hand (something light for your friends, and a water bottle for yourself), you made your way to the main room. With the heels and his bright red top, Papyrus was easy to find. Your other friend had wandered off. The urge to find her sunk in, but then you saw her from across the room.

She was talking to someone you recognized as a fellow student. You locked eyes with her and held up the drink. She smiled and held up her own, almost in a toast. She waggled her eyebrows, bit her lip, and pointed at the woman standing next to her. You rolled your eyes with a smile. She just laughed.

“Thirsty?” Papyrus asked, crossing his arms.

“These aren’t all for me!” You laughed, bumping him in the side. “Here, try this. It’s kind of sweet for me, but I thought you might like it.”

His eyes sparkled. He didn’t realize you’d paid enough attention to notice his sweet tooth. He took the drink you’d been holding out to him and sipped, staring into it as the greenish-blue liquid disappeared.

“Weird. It’s like a cucumber, a watermelon, and rubbing alcohol had a baby.”

“My thoughts exactly.” You smiled. “Do you like it?”

“It’s not bad,” he shrugged. “If you don’t want the other one, I could take it off your hands.”

You offered the glass up to him. He took it absentmindedly, meaning to thank you, but stood up straight as a voice boomed from the speakers.

“How are you doing tonight, everybody?”

A weak scream sputtered out from a few in the crowd.

“Aww, come on. That was weak as fuck, I know you can do better than that!”

The crowd responded with a much stronger yell this time. The main room grew fuller as people filed in. The spotlights came on.

“We’ve got a special guest performing here tonight,” started the voice. “And they are a monster of a good time.”

Confused looks swept over the audience as the speaker continued.

“That’s right, gang. Our very first monster drag queen is coming to give us a show tonight.”

There was a wall to the right of the stage with a curtain draped over a door frame. The curtains fluttered as the dressing room door opened. With how narrow the hallway was, the open door concealed the performer from the audience.

The audience was quiet now, having noticed the movement to the side of the stage.

“Oh, I’m not telling you who it is yet. I’m keeping y’all on the edge. Our first performer tonight is none other than our very own Sapphire Sugarplum!”

The curtains split open with a gush of air as the most stunning person you’d ever seen made her way onto the stage. Adorned in a short, shimmering blue dress and fishnets with little hearts was Ms Sapphire. The song she was performing and lip-syncing to wasn’t one you recognized, but it didn’t matter. She was stunning and she knew it.

The crowd resumed its howling scream and enthused, swaying gyrations as the performer moved and sung with the grace and poise of royalty. Hands with ones, fives, and tens shot up into the air as the performer descended into the crowd.

You turned your head to look at Papyrus. His eyes were blown wide. His feet were glued to the floor. His face was gleaming with awe and shock and something else you couldn’t place. Papyrus came to his senses and fumbled with his wallet to pull out a wad of cash.

A few coins spilled out, and you bent to pick them up for him. You noticed his keys had fallen from his pocket, too, and stuffed them into your bag so he wouldn’t lose or drop them again. You handed Papyrus his coins. His face was flushed red.

When the performer was close enough, Papyrus craned his neck and stretched his arm to pass her the ten dollar bill in his shaking hand. She noticed him and her attention was all his. She slowly approached him, grabbed him by the wrist, and used his hand to stuff the bill down the front of her dress, half of it still poking out. She winked in his general direction and turned toward several others in the audience holding their share of cash out to her.

Holy shit. Papyrus felt like he’d just met God. His mind raced at about a million miles an hour as the gay(?) panic settled in. You smirked at him, grateful to have witnessed the moment. His blush matched his shirt.

Flustered was a good look on him.

Not long after, Sapphire Sugarplum wrapped up the song and made her way back onstage for a short, final dance that was mostly hips and hands. She pushed her way back through the curtain and blew a goodbye kiss to the audience.

“Give it up one more time for Ms Plum!”

Once again, the feeling of an earthquake in your legs hit you. The earplugs were doing a good enough job protecting your ears, but there was no real way to soften the blow of the bass in those speakers. The fuzzy, scratchy feeling stayed in your feet for the time being, but you knew you’d have to walk outside after two or three more performances so that the staticky discomfort wouldn’t migrate up into your torso and send your anxious heart racing.

“Alright everybody, are you ready to meet our next performer?”

This time, the crowd didn’t hold back. The drinks were flowing and the music was fueling the audience’s excitement. The flashing, colorful LEDs dimmed, and a thick fog rolled out onto the floor of the stage.

“Our special guest tonight is known for his drama and unique style. He’s known for his recent and viral television appearances.” A pause.

The curtains fluttered again as more fog gushed out onto the stage and obscured the vision of the audience. All that anyone could see on the stage was a thick wall of smoke.

“Introducing our guest performer tonight,”

The LEDs flashed red and pink, lighting up the smoke and sending scattered beams of light in all directions. A techno-instrumental music began thrumming through the floor and up your spine. You shivered.

Oh, yes.

“Mistress Mettadonna.”

The spotlight turned on, revealing a tall, silver robot you recognized almost immediately. Clad in a sheer, wine-colored robe, chunky platform heels, and a silky, ankle-length dress was the infamous star monsterkind had brought to the surface.

No. Fucking. Way, Papyrus thought.

Mettaton stood on the stage, towering over the audience with his hands on his hips. It looked like he’d made alterations to his body for the show, which wasn’t out of the norm for drag queens. Except that, for human drag queens, these alterations were some kind of temporary silicone. Mettaton had a shiny new pair of tits practically dangling out of his dress.

Papyrus’ jaw was on the floor. You held back a laugh at his expression, but had you gone without him, your face would probably look the same. The star was dancing to what you recognized as a newer version of his “theme song.” This was the version a fan had added heavily autotuned lyrics to, but honestly, it suited him perfectly.

Mettaton bent down and hooked one finger in the slit of his dress, dragging it up his leg and dropping it at the last moment with a knowing look. The audience cheered. He turned his back on the audience and let the robe drip from his shoulders like honey. He looked over his shoulder and smiled as one hand jolted the zipper of his dress down bit by bit to the tempo of the music.

The lights went out for a moment, and when they flashed back on, Mettaton wore a strappy, sleeveless bodysuit that matched the color of his discarded robe. Having been previously hidden under his dress were thigh-high boots. Mettaton twirled and strutted to his song with an enthusiasm you’d only ever seen from him, and Papyrus absorbed every second of it, memorizing the moment like his life depended on it.

Mettadonna, like the other performer, made her way down and into the throng and began accepting the increasingly generous tips from the audience.

Papyrus, still starstruck, leaned down (quite a lot) to whisper (scream) in your ear.

“Is it normal for drag queens to do… erm, striptease?”

You laughed, in spite of your equally enamored reaction.

“Yes, they’re just outfit reveals. Though we have had a burlesque performer in here once or twice. She comes in from Tennessee. She’s good friends with the bar’s owner.”

“Ah, I see.”

Papyrus would have to Google burlesque later.

Your friend appeared next to you and tugged at your sleeve to get your attention.

“Bathroom?” You screamed over the crowd. She nodded. You followed her down the hall, past the dressing rooms.

Papyrus stared after you, watching after you to make sure nothing happened to you. He was bursting with joy. He would never have done this on his own, probably wouldn’t have even known about it. It was all he could think about, even with his idol standing mere feet from him. He didn’t want to forget to thank you.

You stood outside the bathroom door waiting for her. Both bathrooms there were gender-neutral, and monitored by a security guard that looked like he had better places to be. Two people going into a family restroom always looked bad, even more so at Bottoms Up. It usually was, hence the security guard.

She came back out after a longer wait than you’d anticipated. Her lipstick was smeared at the corners, and her hair was messed up. She beamed at you smugly. Your face grew warm, but you laughed.

You turned her around and walked her back towards the stage. A minute later, the woman she’d been flirting with came from behind and met the both of you. She looked equally disheveled, if not a little more so than your friend.

“I think I’m gonna ride home with Josie,” Your friend winked at you. You’d figured she might.

“Keep your location on and text me if you need anything,” you told her over the screams and music. You gave her a look that said don’t get kidnapped, dumbass, even if the girl is hotter than lava and your friend left hand-in-hand with… Josie? Yeah, that was what she’d called her.

You made your way back to the tower called Papyrus who was now practically lighting up the room with his beaming excitement, despite how hard he tried to hide it. He turned to face you when he saw that you were back. His first thought was to thank you, but his brain overrode and asked you a question instead.

“Can we do this again sometime?” You smiled at him and nodded.

“Mettadonna” had two other performances after that, and there were three other performers between and after him. You’d stayed for all of them, and the ride back was pleasantly quiet. At least, until the silence grew too awkward for you to bear. You had to break the silence, so what came out was the first thing that came to mind.

“So… we both have a boner for Mettaton, then?”

Papyrus deliberately, slowly turned to face you.

“You could say that.”

And you both burst out laughing.

The rest of the ride home was full of bubbly, delirious conversation about drag and robots and dramatic television. You both giggled over Mettaton’s second performance, in which he’d thrown candy at the audience that read “MTT Sweets~” on the packaging, tilde and all. You gushed about the last performance and how much range Mettaton had in his performances. For that part, Papyrus listened intently, nodding in agreement while you spoke. Your energy was so thrilling and enticing to him.

He’d never enjoyed the part after the hanging out was over. He usually needed a hot bath and a good book to decompress after a social outing, but he felt like he could keep the energy up for hours right now. Where most people would have drained his social battery tonight, you were charging it in real time.

You were still talking to one another when you arrived back at the house. Sans jumped out of his seat on the couch, having fallen asleep, and the remote skidded across the floor. Before he could change the show, you and Papyrus walked in.

When you and Papyrus saw that he was watching Shocking Ages in Flintwood again, your laughter returned. Sans chuckled a little and relaxed back down on the couch. You joined him on the couch, and Papyrus went to his room, having completely forgotten to thank you for the night. He was too tired and too delirious to really care, though.

You and Sans talked for a bit about how the night went. He’d been as surprised as you to hear Mettaton had performed there, though he had heard a rumor or two about surprise performances from Mettaton before. The show droned on, a near replica of the buzz of the crowd you’d been swimming in earlier, and the weight of sleep tugged your eyelids downward. You genuinely didn’t care if you fell asleep here. You were beat.

You blinked sleepily as you felt your weight being lifted up and off of the couch. You didn’t think much of it then, but when you woke up in your own bed the next morning, you realized Sans had carried you to your room. Your bed felt emptier than usual at that realization.

You shook off the sleep and stretched, still wearing the clothes from last night. You screwed up your face in a look of mild disgust and stripped down to your underwear. Ugh. You needed a shower. You slipped off the remaining dirty laundry. Still drowsy from the long day and longer night, you failed to notice that your door was ajar.

“Hey, have you seen my keys?”

Papyrus walked in and started looking for his keys, not having realized you were in the middle of changing. You turned away from him and walked into the adjacent bathroom, pulling the door shut behind you. The air whooshed out through the crack. You neither noticed nor cared that it had not entirely closed. It was concealing you. That was good enough.

“YUP!” You said far too loudly. “I stuffed them in my bag last night when you dropped those coins! I think my bag is by the front door!”

God, had he seen you? He wasn’t saying anything, so you assumed he hadn’t. You sighed. That could have been bad.

“Oh okay! Thanks, see you later.” Papyrus called from your room.

Grateful to have the house to yourself for the first time in a while, you turned the shower on and allowed yourself to relax. Last night had been nothing short of exhilarating, and the images of Mettaton and the performers and Papyrus all swirled together in your mind.

Your heart raced at the memory of Mettaton’s performance, of Papyrus’ hungry reactions, of the confident look on Papyrus’ face the night before when he caught you staring. Tightness, not unpleasant, swirled in your lower half. With no one home, there was no reason not to test how thin the walls were…

Papyrus searched the front hall and realized that your bag was not, in fact, by the front door. Or in the kitchen. Or in the living room. Sigh. Back into your room he went.

Papyrus heard the water running. You must be showering. He saw your bag near the bathroom door and walked over to unzip it.

He felt weird going through your things, but there really wasn’t much in there aside from your own keys and wallet. He found his keys and started walking away when he heard the creak of a door opening. Papyrus, being a gentleman, scooted backward to quietly close the bathroom door for you. He was careful not to look in the direction of the door, so he’d have to feel for the knob to close it behind him.

When his hand found the doorknob, though, he heard your voice. Muffled and quiet, but definitely your voice. You were breathing hard. Making strained noises. For a moment Papyrus was worried you may have slipped and gotten hurt in the shower. He tensed, waiting to react to a cry for help.

A noise that did not at all sound like you were in pain told him otherwise. Slick noises of flesh on flesh barely covered up by the sound of running water set off alarm bells in his mind. Oh, shit.

You were masturbating.

And Papyrus was standing outside, with his hand still on the doorknob.

He couldn’t move. He knew that if he tried to flee too fast, the displaced air would make the door swing open. And, if he closed the door, you’d hear it click shut, and probably accuse him of voyeurism.

Heat rushed to his face and to his groin when you failed to stifle another moan.

“Fuck, Pah-” you groaned, biting your knuckle.

He covered his mouth with the hand not holding the doorknob. You’d started to say something that sounded close, too close for comfort, to Papyrus’ name. He closed his eyes to try and calm himself, or at the very least, not think about how quickly his magic roused in his pelvis at the sound of your voice. Lost in anxious concentration, Papyrus had forgotten about the keys entirely.

Which was why the sound of them loudly hitting the floor made him jump so high. He let go of the doorknob in his panic. The door swung open and hit the wall with a thwack as Papyrus scrambled to pick up his keys. He slipped on the pile of clothes you’d thrown to the floor in his attempt to regain composure and ended up on his bony butt.

You stopped what you were doing and slowly peeked your head out from behind the shower curtain. The door had burst open. Your face burned already, though you weren’t sure whether it was from the hellish temperature of the water, or from your current activities. It grew hotter anyway.

When you looked through the open door, you saw Papyrus, sprawled out on the floor in a pile of your clothes. He looked up at you, panic-stricken, then stared at the ground so intensely that you thought lasers might shoot from his eyes and burn a hole in your carpet. His erection was almost concealed by his usual tight pants, but oh, you noticed.

You’d been too sleepy to truly process the moral logistics of what you were doing before. You were certainly wide awake now. This was escalating too fast. Fuck. How had you let this happen?

“Um. Hi.” You said. Your face felt like the fire of a thousand suns. Fuck. You prayed to whatever higher power was out there that Papyrus had not just heard you starting to moan his name.

“I’msosorryIwasjusttryingtoclosethedoorI’llleavejustactlikeIwasn’therefucksorry” Papyrus spewed in one long word. He stood quickly, covering his hard-on and walking away with the speed of Sonic the Fucking Hedgehog.

When he was back in the front hallway, the bedroom door firmly shut behind him, he leaned his back against the wall and breathed, hard. He decided from then on that he would always knock before entering a room.

Papyrus did his best to think about something, anything else, but the past thirty seconds kept replaying in his head.

You looked down at the doorway that connected your bedroom to the bathroom.

Your bag sat in the doorway. Sans must have brought it there when he carried you to your room last night.

…

Ohhhhhhhhhh.

Yeah, you were just going to act like nothing happened. Yup. That would definitely be totally fine.

Papyrus came to a similar conclusion, but was distracted by something dripping from the kitchen ceiling across the hall. He made his way over and saw that icicles were dangling from the overhead lights in the kitchen… again.

Okay, that was good. Sort of. At least he’d have something to talk to you about later?

He looked down at his watch and saw that if he didn’t leave soon he’d be late for class. He sighed, slouched over, then straightened back up, determined. Okay. He’d definitely be able to calm down on the way to class.

While Papyrus drove to class, Sans was just about wrapping up at work. It had been a longer night than expected. Someone had made a breakthrough, requiring him to stay a little later than usual. Not that he minded. Sans genuinely enjoyed what he did.

Fixing things had always been a way for Sans to deal with his feelings. Or, rather, to not deal with them. He was working towards a point where he could do more than deflect genuine emotion, thanks to his overindulgence in television and movies (cheesy as it was). Sometimes, though, he just needed to pound away at something with a hammer, or weld something to perfection, or use a handheld drill like his life depended on it.

Tonight had been no different, aside from the fact that he’d had to commit to more physical labor than he’d anticipated. His current project was to execute the revisions he’d helped brainstorm in the lab with Rodgey and Alphys.

Rodgey was a smart, porcupine-adjacent monster with an affinity for space-time. He was also one of the very few in Sans’ and Alphys’ circle that shared the responsibility of keeping the timeline from resetting.

Fuku, Grillby’s niece, was in this circle, as well. The green flame-monster had gravitated towards the skeleton brothers after spending hours in Grillby’s, day to day, working on her homework while Sans rattled off facts about space and machinery to any interested party. She seemed to be the only one to actually absorb half of what he was saying.

So, when she began using what Sans was saying to put the pieces together about their timeline, she demanded (politely asked) to be let in on the project he hadn’t been careful enough to conceal. He felt bad enough that she knew how precarious the balance was, so he allowed her to sit in and watch while he, Alphys, and Rodd worked on maintaining their machine.

It was constantly falling apart. Well, not falling apart, but it needed constant maintenance. At first, they’d tried to simply patch it up when things went wrong. The problem was that it needed more and more patching each time. They’d refocused their efforts on trying to improve it, instead of remaining ignorant to the cause of its self-destruction.

It was a lot of fucking math. Which was great, because Fuku loved math. She’d honestly been a great addition to the team. So much so that Alphys had offered to sign her up as an official intern. It would look good on her resumé, and she’d be getting paid like the rest of them.

Oh, yeah. The pay was great. Toriel, reinstated as Queen when Asgore stepped down from the throne, funded the project. She wanted to make sure that the scientists working on the machine had no incentive to stop, give up, or sabotage it. It went without saying that she covered their dental insurance.

The best part about the job was neither the pay nor the perks. It was the security Sans felt in knowing he and the people he trusted the most were responsible for the safety of everyone he loved. It was comforting to know he finally held his fate in his own hands.

It was also, like, really fucking stressful. Having you around had slowly chipped away at that stress. Sans had finally started letting his guard down. He’d refocused his enthusiasm for good jokes away from deflecting emotion and self-deprecation, and had turned it into something productive and positive. He was really proud of that.

Sans looked up and through a window at the clock hanging in the break room. Damn, he really needed to get going. He probably needed a shower, too. He was not proud of the amount of grease, lubricant, and other various fluids he was covered in - but hey, it meant he was doing his job well.

He’d driven to work the night before, after you and Papyrus had left for whatever it was you’d done. He reminded himself to ask how that went later. Sans changed out of his work clothes and tossed them into the washer (he’d requested one to have on-site after week one of being covered in grease). He hopped into his car and began the commute back home.

Sans obviously didn’t need to drive home, but he really enjoyed watching the world as it woke up. The work site was remote, a well-kept secret, so he passed through rural areas on the way to and from work. The fields were pretty at night, but they were beautiful in the mornings.

Dew dotted the hundreds of plants he sped past, shining like starlight as they rippled in the wind. Sans rolled down his windows and let the smell of grass and hay dominate his senses.

There really wasn’t anything quite like a sunrise.

When you arrived at work later, you noticed a new flavor amongst the rainbow of syrups and peered down to look at the label. Pistachio. Looks like your little cafe was quick to pick up on trends.

You asked Ana to show you how to make an iced pistachio latte. You thought that maybe if the drink wasn’t so hot, you’d be able to figure out what flavor it resembled. When she finished, and you tilted it up to your lips to taste it, the recognition was immediate.

“EGGNOG!!” You shouted. Several patrons looked in your direction with concern. You clapped a hand over your mouth. You pulled out your phone to share your victory with Papyrus, the only thing on your mind being that you had figured it out.

 

you
Pistachio lattes = egg nog!!!

 

Papyrus stared at his phone blankly. He deleted the paragraph he’d been anxiously typing and re-typing.

 

Papyrus
So THAT’S what it was!!!

Notes:

WHOA another chapter posted within a month of the last one?? Hurray LMAO

As always, criticism is welcome and comments are greatly appreciated!

I can't believe this story is still going after almost two years. I'm so grateful for the love and support :,) AO3 makes me honest-to-god feel better about writing and consuming self-indulgent skeleton trash aughsbsj

Chapter 9: Jimbros

Summary:

Mom calls and fucks up your schedule (again). Very gay communication about The Shower Incident. There's a mustard sandwich in there somewhere. Oh and you go gym.

(....plus they watch I Saw the TV Glow)

It was break time. You’d been in the middle of one of the calmest shifts in a good while. You were happily devouring an on-the-house breakfast sandwich when you picked up your phone and saw a grand total of twenty-eight missed calls and several voicemails. They were all from one phone number.

Your mom.

You put down your sandwich and prepared yourself for the worst. Another call came through, so you answered it.

“Where have you been?” your mom demanded. “I’ve been calling you for an hour!”

“At work.” you replied dryly.

“It doesn’t matter. I have you on the phone now, at least. Listen, I need you to do me a favor. Can you come here and sign some paperwork?”

“I have classes today, I can’t just pack up and drive all the way to your new house.”

“It’s an emergency.”

“Emergency paperwork?” You doubted it.

“Don’t sass me. It’s about the other house.”

“The house I own?”

“Well - yes. For now.”

Your stomach lurched like you’d been brake-checked.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to have ownership, anyway.” She was ignoring your question.

Where was this coming from? You knew she was impulsive, but this was extreme even for her.

“I’m going to have to call you back.” You shook your head in disbelief. “I have commitments. This can wait.”

“No sweetie don’t hang up the ph-”

You hung up. You’d lost your appetite. You wrapped the sandwich back up in its packaging.

Fuck.

After your shift was over, you sat in your car completely zoned out for an indeterminate amount of time (five minutes) before you felt grounded enough to drive safely. Out of habit and muscle memory, you drove home.

Both Papyrus and Sans were there. Well, you knew for sure Papyrus was, since his car was parked in the driveway. Sans’ car being there didn’t actually give you any information about where he was. He was in the living room when you walked inside, though.

“yer back early,” Sans questioned more than commented, giving you a once over. Your body language said everything. His look of concern went unnoticed by you.

“Yeah, I didn’t feel up for class today.” You admitted. You really needed to stop ditching class.

“what’s got you down?” Sans asked.

“I got a call from my mom, I think she’s trying to start shit.”

“what did she say?” he asked, before backtracking. “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it.” He shifted on the couch to face you and rested his arms on the back.

“No, it’s fine. It kind of concerns you. She kind of made it seem like she wants ownership of the house. But she’s never taken an interest in it before.”

“and she didn’t say why?”

“I hung up, I didn’t want to hear it. I was on my break at work. I knew if I let her start explaining she’d never shut up.”

“you should probably call her back. if she starts rambling, you could just say you have to help me with dinner.”

“That’s… not a bad idea.” You nodded, pulling out your phone. It looked like you wouldn’t have to call her; she’d beat you to it. Twelve times, going on thirteen.

“I guess I’d better take this. Would you sit with me while I talk to her?”

“aye aye, cap’n.” he said, saluting you half-heartedly. You snorted.

You picked up just before the call went to voicemail. You absent-mindedly put the phone on speaker.

“That was pretty disrespectful, hanging up on me earlier,” your mom said immediately. “But anyway. I have more important news! We’re going to sell the house.”

“Yeah, I knew that. I helped y’all move out.”

“No, sweetie. Mama’s house.”

You froze. You slowly turned your head and locked eyes with Sans, whose sockets were empty and dark.

“The house I’m living in?”

“I thought it might be nice to see you more often, so we prepared a spare room for you at our new house!”

Your face burned. Sans was expressionless and clenching his fists in his lap. If he weren’t already white as paper, you would have thought he’d gotten paler.

“That’s too far for me to drive to school every day. It would cost me hundreds of dollars in gas per semester.” You said, hoping you sounded calmer than you felt. “What about the tenants?”

“Well, they signed the lease saying they were aware that we could repossess the property at any time. To sell it or move in as we please, of course.”

Sans bristled. He looked pissed now.

“You’re supposed to give them a few months’ warning out of courtesy,” you scoffed.

“It’s not required, honey, that’s just a suggestion.” She went quiet.

“Mom. Please tell me where this is coming from.”

A beat, more silence.

“My girlfriend needs the money.” she said quietly.

It took every ounce of your willpower not to squeeze the phone until the screen shattered. Not to throw it across the room. Not to scream into the mic that neither she nor her new girlfriend had a right to this house.

Sans’ expression vanished in the split second it took you to react. It immediately changed into the same look of concern you hadn’t noticed earlier.

“We can discuss this later.” You said, gritting your teeth.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me agai-”

You did. You blocked her number so she wouldn’t leave any more fucking voicemails.

“are you okay?” Sans cautioned, all tension leaving his body.

You took a deep breath. In, out.

Another. Inhale, exhale.

“Have you ever helped dye hair before?”

Sans cocked an eyebrow.

Before he knew it, his hands were stained red.

“for how little we used, this shit sure gets everywhere,” he commented, running a comb through your hair, as directed.

“Sorry, I meant to grab gloves for the both of us.”

“nah, don’t worry about it. it looks kind of awesome.”

“Totally adds to the bad boy thing you got going on.” You joked.

“nothing badder than being a short n’ edgy fuck covered in red hair dye.”

Papyrus peeked his head through the bathroom door. He looked horrified.

“What the hell is going on here? Are you hurt??” He looked at you with wide eyes, then turned to Sans. “Why are you covered in blood?”

You and Sans burst into laughter.

Papyrus appeared to realize that it was not, in fact, blood.

“Do either of you want food? I’m making sandwiches, I can leave the stuff out if either of you are hungry.”

“If Sans wants anything, sure. I still have my lunch from work since I didn’t finish it earlier. Let me get us cleaned up first, I don’t want to get this stuff all over the house.”

“more than we already have.” Sans grinned at you.

Papyrus headed back to the kitchen and realized he should have just offered to make the sandwiches for you. You were obviously busy, and not exactly at a great stopping point. He felt like he’d interrupted something.

Papyrus supposed he might just be feeling left out, but that didn’t really make sense. You’d been spending a lot of time with him recently, so there wasn’t any reason for him to feel like he was being excluded. He still felt weird about the shower incident, too, and he supposed that the leftover tension wasn’t helping.

Papyrus sighed and took a bite of his sandwich. He probably needed to get groceries soon. He could only handle so much turkey/provolone on white bread. He thought about cooking something nicer for dinner and then realized that, ugh, it meant he’d have to make the grocery run sooner rather than later.

He probably needed to get out of the house, anyway.

You walked into the kitchen and heard Papyrus’ car start up. The sandwich stuff had been put away. Your brows pressed together, worried.

“Is he okay?” Was what you ended up saying out loud instead.

“yeah, i think so. he’s been acting a little weird lately. why do you ask?”

“I dunno, he just seems sort of avoidant. I was surprised he didn’t want to eat together.”

Sans shrugged. “he’s probably worried about his finals. i wouldn’t blame him.” Sans dug through the fridge.

Despite there being plenty of turkey, he put a ridiculous amount of cheese and mustard in the middle of a folded piece of bread. It looked like a hot dog bun, minus the hot dog. You’d seen this before, and had become more or less accustomed to it, but… it was still kind of gross.

Sans looked up at you once he had his completed “meal” in hand.

“yer really worried about him, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess. He has been acting weird, but I think I know why. It’s just… hard to bring up in normal conversation.”

Sans chewed thoughtfully, letting his eyes drift to the ceiling.

“you could come up with an excuse to hang out. if you keep avoiding each other it’ll just keep getting more awkward.”

“I did mention going to the gym with him the other day. I can ask if he’s busy later today.”

“good.” Sans nodded, chomping into his mustard and cheese-wich-dog abomination. at the very least, it’ll get them talking. forced proximity works miracles for communication, he thought.

You texted Papyrus, knowing he wouldn’t see the message until he got wherever he was going. He was actually a pretty safe driver. To your surprise, though, his response was quick.

 

Papyrus (the Great)
I wouldn’t mind at all

Papyrus (the Great)
When were you thinking about going?

 

You
Probably as soon as you get back

 

Papyrus (the Great)
Works for me, it probably won’t be a very long trip. I’m going to be cooking tonight so I want to make sure we’re able to eat at a reasonable hour

 

You
I’m sure Sans wouldn’t mind helping out while we’re gone, how long do you think the food would take?

 

Papyrus (the Great)
Oh the prep would not take long at all, I just have to get some meat marinating so it doesn’t taste like cardboard after it gets cooked

 

You
Real

You
Lmk when you’re on your way?

 

Papyrus (the Great)
Absolutely!

 

“He said he’s down. Would you mind seasoning some meat for him while we’re there? He’s worried about the time it’ll take to cook later.”

“fuck yeah, i’ll help.”

His enthusiasm surprised you. Sans smiled.

“it’s a long-time hobby of his. he sucked, at first. but youtube is a wonderful thing. i wanna keep supporting it however i can.” Sans decidedly left out the fact that his brother tended to cook when he was stressed.

“Oh okay! Thanks, I’d really appreciate that. I’m sure he will too.”

“no problem.” Sans wiped his hands - yes, with a napkin - and got up to put his plate away.

You pulled your sandwich out from your bag and looked at it, considering whether eating something soggy and lukewarm was worth it. You were hungry enough to eat it, but you still weren’t exactly excited about it. It was filling enough to get you through going to the gym and light enough that it wouldn’t make you want to vomit while working out.

You headed to the kitchen to wash the tupperware the sandwich had been in to find Sans wiping down the island. He’d already set a few different seasonings out on the countertop, and it looked like he was halfway through with loading the dishwasher.

“Need any help?” you offered.

“it’s cool. just rinse that out and i’ll put it in with the rest,” Sans said over his shoulder.

After you rinsed and put the tupperware in the dishwasher, you headed to your room to change. You threw on some gym shorts and kept the same t-shirt on. It wasn’t the most breathable, but it didn’t matter much, considering that you didn’t technically need to wear a shirt inside the gym.

 

Papyrus
I’m almost there, I just need to change quickly and make sure Sans didn’t over-season the meat

 

you
Lol, no such thing

 

“Believe me, there is,” Papyrus boomed, grim. You jumped, not having heard him enter the house.

Papyrus set his bag down by the front door so he wouldn’t forget to grab it on the way back out to the gym. He stood outside your room for a moment, hesitant, then stepped through the doorway. You put down your phone.

“He didn’t know Tony’s had salt in it once, and kept adding it to his food to try and make it spicier. He kept wondering why it was so salty. Then he read the ingredients on the container.”

“Huh, I didn’t know either.”

Papyrus grinned.

“Now you do.”

Once the both of you were changed and ready to go, you headed outside. In contrast to the cold, Papyrus’ car was a sauna. He’d left it running, most likely so it wouldn’t get cold before he got in. You were grateful for it, after sprinting through the cold to get in the car.

You noticed on the center console that the passenger seat heater was on, but not the driver seat heater. It occurred to you then that Papyrus didn’t feel temperature nearly to the extent you did. He’d left the car on for you, so you wouldn’t have to be cold when you got in.

“What are you gonna work on today?” Papyrus asked. When he shut the door, a final gust of cold whooshed through the car, snapping you out of your delusions.

“Oh, uhm, mostly my back. I had to unload a truck at work recently and it’s activating muscles I haven’t used in a while. I’m trying to avoid tearing anything right now.” You cleared your throat. “What about you?”

“I was just going to do whatever you did,” he admitted. “I haven’t really done this in a couple of months. I, uh…” Papyrus hesitated, not wanting to overshare. His eyes wavered from the road for a moment to look at you. Your eyes were glued to his. He exhaled deeply. “I get weird stares.”

You blinked, your undivided attention on him as he pulled out of the driveway. “Do people ever approach you?”

“Most ask why I come to the gym if I don’t have muscles. And, I get it, they’re curious, but it seems that people forget their manners just because I’m different.” He swallowed, hoping you didn’t hear.

“That’s kind of fucked up,” you agreed. “If I went up to someone and asked why they came to the gym I’d probably get kicked out for harassment.”

Papyrus shifted, uncomfortable.

“I’ll kick their ass if they bother you,” you joked, trying to keep it light. “But no, dude, thank you for telling me. If I can help you out in those situations, I will. We can make up, like, a hand symbol, or something.”

Papyrus laughed. You smiled back. You were about to tell him you were serious when he turned into the parking lot and shut off his car.

“You wanna make a run for the door?” Papyrus asked.

“Race you,” you challenged.

“No fair, I have to lock the car,” he whined back. A smile and a side-eye gave away his sarcasm.

“I’ll stand outside and do a countdown.”

“Okay,” he agreed, popping the door open. When he stepped outside, though, he realized racing would not be a great idea. The parking lot and sidewalk were partially iced over. You noticed, too.

“On the indoor track instead?”

“You read my mind.”

Papyrus won. Long legs apparently made a difference.

“You only won,” you wheezed, laughing a little between breaths. “Cause you don’t have lungs.”

“I can still breathe,” he joked back. He was wheezing equally as hard, to be fair. His hands were on his knees, and he was squatting next to you against the wall.

The cool, painted bricks felt good against your sweaty back. You grabbed at your sleeves, pulled your top off over your head, and leaned back against the wall. It was a little harder to keep yourself propped against the wall, but the cold wall against your skin was worth it.

Papyrus’ grip on his knees tightened. He tried not to stare.

You noticed Papyrus had stiffened. Ah, shit. Right. The incident.

Should I bring it up, like, now?? you thought.

Don’t get hard. Please, stars, don’t get hard. Papyrus thought, squinting his eyes shut as he held himself still against the wall.

“I’m sorry for being so awkward.” You blurted. Papyrus blinked at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Um. I’m like. Really bad at confrontation.” You said, speaking in short bursts so as not to stutter.

If it were possible for Papyrus’ face to turn into a question mark, it would have. It, unfortunately, was not possible.

“The uh, the shower thing. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I had just woken up.”

Papyrus sat in silence and stared while your face burned. “Masturbating is completely normal.” He said nonchalantly.

“No, I mean like,” you sighed. “I don’t know what you heard, or saw. I’m… I’m sorry because I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Especially in your own home.”

Papyrus froze. You couldn’t read his expression. It looked like it had gone from discomfort to nothing at all in mere milliseconds.

“Listen when I say this,” Papyrus said, extending a hand for you to hold. “I’m not uncomfortable. My home is still my safe space. And, it’s your home too, you know.”

You clasped his hand and sat on the floor. You crossed your arms and hid your face. He sat across from you, and waited for you to look up. When you did, you started rambling and couldn’t stop.

“I thought I had made you uncomfortable. Accidentally walking in on something like that is possibly the most awkward thing in the world, especially when it ends like it did.” He grimaced at the thought of you seeing him that day. You huffed a breathy laugh out your nose.

“It doesn’t matter what I heard.” He said. “My body reacted to a stimulus, I fell on my ass, and it was over.” That last part came out much too harsh. Too dismissive. Papyrus immediately regretted it.

“So you’re not mad? Or upset?” you asked, sheepish.

“No. Are you?”

“Not a bit.”

Papyrus smiled. He was tempted to ask whether you’d been thinking about him, and banished the thought. If he knew anything about you, it was that if you wanted to tell him something, he could trust you to.

“I know you wanted to work on your back,” Papyrus said. There was a crackling of joints as he stood. “But would you care to race one more time?”

“I don’t mind at all.” You smiled and began to stretch.

After your last lap, the both of you headed towards the main room. Papyrus had to bend over dramatically to drink from the fountain. It made his spine bend in an eerily unnatural way, but it was still kind of funny. Until you realized you weren’t the only one looking.

You hadn’t really noticed the weird stares while you’d been running, because people rarely used the indoor track. Here, in the room with the machines, there were more people. More eyes. Some looked at you, making the connection between you and Papyrus, and promptly went back to minding their business.

You were trying not to assume that they were being judgemental (or worse, that they were afraid). When anxiety was involved, curious looks could be indistinguishable from threatening glares. You understood why Papyrus wanted you with him.

Papyrus rejoined you and wiped his face with the towel wrapped around his shoulders. You didn’t realize how hard it could be to drink from a water fountain without lips.

“Arms and back, right?”

“Yep,” you confirmed.

You split up, and jumped back and forth between machines for a while. In the middle of a set, you saw a man approach Papyrus out of the corner of your eye. You turned your head to see them better.

Just before you turned your head back around, you saw Papyrus, hunched over slightly and beginning to fidget. Alarm bells went off in your head and you stopped what you were doing to run over and back him up.

“Hey Papyrus,” you started, interrupting the stranger. “How’s your workout coming?”

You were ignored.

“...see, the way you’re doing it is all wrong. You’re supposed to straighten your back, not stick your butt out.”

“I-” Papyrus started, but was interrupted.

“And your foot placement is all wrong, you won’t activate the proper… um… muscles if your feet are too close together.”

You placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Sir,” you said, gripping harder as you addressed him. “I think I can take it from here.”

The man turned beet red, stunned. He opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at his shoes. He took a deep, dramatic breath and speed-walked away.

Papyrus stood in stunned silence for a beat. His posture screamed discomfort.

“Are you okay?”

“i think so,” Papyrus said quietly.

You held out your hands. He grabbed them, and you squeezed.

“Let’s stick together for the rest of the workout. Unless you want to go home?” You offered.

“I’m not sure. Both?” Papyrus said, still stiff. He was slowly relaxing, but he still seemed self-conscious.

“Pick a number. One or two.”

“Huh?”

“Pick a number, one or two.” You repeated.

“Umm. Two?” Papyrus shrugged.

“Let’s stay and work out.”

“Why did you make me pick a number?”

“It makes the decision anonymous and much more arbitrary. It just takes the pressure off both people. Helps with people-pleasing. At least I think so.”

“Interesting. That works for me,” Papyrus nodded. “Lead the way. We can take turns on the machines and help each other count reps.”

What Papyrus had failed to account for was the watching portion of helping you keep count of your reps. He was of no help to you. That was fine - you were focused on not dropping the weights and having to start over.

By the time you were done, you were both sore. You mentally reminded yourself to stretch when you got home so you wouldn’t be as sore in the morning.

The cold air felt amazing on your skin when you walked out of the gym. You were wondering if Papyrus also appreciated the temperature change.

“It does feel nice,” he said quietly.

“Huh?”

“It feels nice. You asked if the cold air felt good for me too.”

“I… didn’t realize I said that out loud.”

Papyrus laughed. “It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

You went quiet, thinking about the heated seats again. Why didn’t he heat the driver seat? You couldn’t get the thought to leave your mind, so you waited to see if he would turn on his heated seat when he got into the car.

He didn’t. So you asked.

“Is your ass not cold?”

Papyrus made eye contact with you and couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“No, not really,” he laughed. “I can feel temperature changes, they just don’t affect me in the extreme. The heated seats don’t really do much for me,” but I know you get cold, so I turned it on. He didn’t say the last part out loud.

You looked into your lap and smiled. So he had turned on the heated seat and the hot air for you.

Papyrus’ car defaulted to playing the radio when it turned on, so the ride home was peacefully quiet. The music calmed whatever nerves you still had about The Shower Incident, and the lack of conversation gave you an excuse to stare out the window and watch buildings zoom by.

When Papyrus got home, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the house didn’t smell like burnt food. It actually smelled pretty good.

Sans had been hypervigilant while you were gone. He’d wanted to cut the tension in the house with a good meal and give the three of you something to talk about. He wouldn’t admit that he was worried, but he cared a lot about Papyrus, and was growing to care about you, too.

“This is so good,” you commented, wiping sauce off your face with absolutely zero grace. Sans acknowledged you with a nod.

“I can’t remember the last time you cooked something without mustard.” Papyrus joked. You almost choked on your food.

You were tempted to bring up the sandwich-dog-monstrosity from earlier and refrained. Sans had done you a favor by making dinner. You wouldn’t dare insult his niche and acquired taste, lest he be tempted to add mustard next time. You still snickered at the thought.

“‘cooked’ is a strong word. I just heated up the sauce and boiled some water. and added a little seasoning. it was nothin’ at all.”

“Still much appreciated,” you added, taking another bite. You were honestly tempted to grab another bowl. You hadn’t realized how hungry you’d been until you got home.

The three of you made cleaning the kitchen and putting the dishes away a breeze. You offered to put on a movie. Sans said he needed to go to bed early, but Papyrus offered to stay up with you and watch. You’d heard from a friend about a movie recently, something about a TV glowing, and had looked up the reviews. It seemed good, so you checked if you had it for free (you didn’t) and promptly found a pirated version of decent quality.

Your eyes started drifting shut about fifteen minutes into the movie. Papyrus was wide awake, however, and struggling to split his attention between you slowly laying your head on his shoulder and the deeply emotional movie on the screen. He tapped you on the shoulder once or twice when your head was fully resting against his arm, but you remained asleep.

He relaxed, eventually, and fell asleep with you. He woke up to the end credits and nudged you awake. He walked you to your room, said goodnight, and absentmindedly tucked you in. Sans had done that for him when he was younger. It occurred to him that this was not the first time he’d sleepily covered you in blankets. Why was he doing that for you?

He lay in bed later, falling asleep to thoughts of you. You, defending him at the gym. You, falling asleep by his side. You, smiling as if he couldn’t see it, at his forethought to warm the car. You working out, and you in the shower that day.

The guilt and giddy adoration mixed in a way that made his gut twist. He wasn't under the covers yet, so a faint red glow filled the room as his soul pulsed and swelled with emotion.

Notes:

wow guys uhm I'm not beating the AO3 curse allegations...

-my partner apparently was not a great person (womp womp) and I broke up with him after a long 20 months together!!! (this fic has been going longer than our relationship...... insane)

-I went into a depressive spiral bc i fucked up my sleep schedule, and got out of it by taking a smaller dose of my antidepressants (WILD)

-aaaaaaand I got taco bell with my very recent green-haired (and much cooler) partner tonight. we're actually chilling at a birth house right now because i had to drive them mid-date to work so they could clean up after someone went into laborrrrrr

anyway hope y'all enjoyed this chapter that I wrote most of six months ago (before I posted the smutty oneshot) and edited while listening to a woman breathe very loudly while giving birth in the next room over, see y'all in another three months probably xoxo!!!!! <3 <3 <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Coffee & Chaos