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Papyrus didn’t understand how Russ put so much faith in him.
The initial conversation was painfully awkward, with Russ having to explain that he sometimes jumped universes in his sleep, meaning they would probably have to keep some level of physical contact while he rested in order to avoid Papyrus being left behind. At the time, Papyrus had begrudgingly agreed, if only to make it easier to kill him when the right time finally came.
Later, when Russ was leaning against him, shivering and mumbling nonsense relating to whatever terror he’d been dreaming about, Papyrus realized he’d clearly wake far too easily and alert for an ambush to work. It wouldn’t be worth the attempt.
It had only lasted for all of two hours, but his fingers twitched whenever a whimper broke out between the other’s teeth. Perhaps if he was lucky, the horrors in his skull would get to him before Papyrus did.
(At some point, Russ had found his hand and held on tight. He hadn’t dared to breathe, sure that it was deliberate. It had to be.)
Another time, Russ had been complaining about a thread in his undershirt that kept coming loose. He’d said that for as thick as it was, its cut-proof qualities were worthless if there were holes in it anyway. It was in one of his sleeves, but he couldn’t get a good angle to sew it up properly while he was still wearing it.
So, he removed his scarf, his chest piece, and his undershirt.
He’d kept talking all the way through, as if he wasn’t sitting on a hotel bed half-naked, right in front of the skeleton who still ached to tear him apart.
At one point he’d dropped the needle he’d been using, and gone to search for it on the floor, turning his back to Papyrus in the process.
He had to have been testing him. It was too obvious. He was all but daring Papyrus to try it. When he’d found the needle in front of Papyrus’s boot, he’d smiled up at him, asking why he didn’t say anything. When he’d finally noticed him staring, he’d glanced down at his defenseless, bare chest, laughed a bit to himself, and launched into a number of stories about the various scars littering it. Scars that Papyrus had definitely noticed beforehand, obviously.
(It wouldn’t have been fair to attack while his back was turned, anyway.)
It would have been perfect.
The first few times, it was in someone’s back yard, or just on the edge of town. This time, it was deeper into the woods than they’d ever gone together. Entirely secluded.
Russ said it would provide more “environmental challenge.” Papyrus knew no one would hear him scream.
He’d grown to understand why Russ liked this sort of thing so much. He had to admit that it was quite a good way to expend some energy. The low stakes allowed him to try new things, and Russ always knew how to tease him just enough to get rough.
If only Papyrus could get his hands on him, that would be it. He would shove him down into the snow, destroy his sorry excuse for armor, and wipe that ever-present grin from his face.
And that would be it.
He’d made good progress. He wouldn’t do it all at once, no, he’d been waiting for the right moment.
But then, as he went for the blow that would have given him the exact advantage he needed…
Their eyes met, for only a second, and there was a flash of something unidentifiable in Russ’s expression. Not quite fear, but… Something.
For only that second, Papyrus faltered.
Russ immediately took advantage, rushing forward to grab at him. He’d manage to get a hold on Papyrus’s scarf, causing him to awkwardly stumble backward until he was pressed against a tree.
His hands were entirely free. He could have broken from the other’s hold in seconds.
But as Russ stared at him with that smug grin, sweating and panting as his soul beat hard against his chest, Papyrus was all but shackled in place.
After a moment, Russ said his name, his breath hitting his jaw and forcing him to realize just how close their faces were.
A shiver ran through his entire body.
Soon, Russ loosened his hold, and Papyrus shoved him off the rest of the way, pointedly ignoring the disappointment in the back of his mind.
He’d called off the training session after that.
(And if something similar happened the next two, four, six sessions, well, Russ had simply become used to his movements. That was all.)