Physical Therapy

by Beewritesstuff (Mimispace)

Summary:

"Traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies: the past is alive in the form of gnawing interior discomfort."

-The Body Keeps The Score, Bessel van der Kolk

 

Dr. W.D. Gaster is not a happy man...but he had been, once. Perhaps he could be again.

...and he can't stop thinking about you. Can't make himself stop thinking about you.

A story in which love, quite literally, saves the world.

(Now in Arc 2)

Notes:

A gift for Phoebe.

Chapter 1: Assisted Bodywork

Notes:

The music Reader is listening to for this chapter is "Symphony- Zara Larsson"

"you're being a fucking asshole lately," was the friendly phrase that met him from Sans' mouth the very second Gaster kicked open the lab doors. His younger brother was lounging comfortably, his ankles crossed up on the desk before him and his chair kicked back as far as it could possibly go without falling backwards completely. 

Gaster shot him a filthy look, but Sans had his eyes 'closed'; his eyelights were dark, his perpetual smile relaxed. 

"How I Act Is My Business," he spat back in his cracking whisper, knowing Sans was damn right and refusing to ever admit it. 

Things were, perhaps, not so good. He was the director of the whole fucking research department for God's sake, constantly pushing, driving, demanding, striving for better, for knowledge…

But if he was truly, sincerely honest…he'd taken a turn for the worse over the past six months. His harsh, cool disposition had turned cruel and cold again, and he had no one to blame but himself.

He'd barely crossed a hundred feet into the room when Eddie, a Lizard project manager directly under him, burst through the double doors beyond. The bright sun coming through the tall windows reflected off his pebbly, brilliant red and sky-blue scales, making Gaster grind his teeth.

“Good morning, good morning. Ah, Wing Dings, my friend-” he hated that name, they all knew he hated that name, “-there's, ah…you see, there is…well, I gotta be straight with you.” 

Gaster squinted at the other man as he approached- something he wouldn't like was coming. He could feel it. 

“We've received so many complaints. Staff, interns, visitors, investors…” His scaly face looked genuinely contrite, and oh but didn't that make it so much worse. “Your work is exemplary. It always is, always will be, but…” 

The Lizard sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, Gaster saw Sans stand up, as lazily as if he had a million years to do so. 

“Spit It Out.” It took effort, and pain, to make his voice loud enough to carry. 

“Well…you're driving people off. Folks are, ah, rather scared of you. The King has…noticed.” He waved a scroll. “A missive, right from the horse's mouth. Mandatory sabbatical. Two weeks, with reexamination upon return.” 

Gaster's jaw dropped, and Eddie held up both hands, brandishing the scroll like a shield. “You're still Director! You're a Royal Scientist, THE royal-est of Royal Scientists. You just…” His face fell. “You need to take a break. You're here dawn to midnight, sometimes later. Every. Single. Day."

The older Skeleton stared in outrage. 

He was pissed. He was furious. 

He was offended. 

He did not, could not, take a fucking break.

Eddie unrolled the scroll, reading off of it. “Blah blah blah, we expect him to use this time doing a provable, WITNESSED self-care or relaxation activity. No squirreling himself away at home to do independent research for two weeks. No sneaking into the laboratory. This is a formal, royal command. And I'm reading this part as written, Wing Dings, so don't come for me, ahem, ‘Papyrus has already been informed, and assigned to the monitoring of such with all due prejudice…’ so ah, that's…that.”

He closed up the scroll. Gaster clenched his fists, hiding the motion in the folds of his lab coat.

“I'm Requesting That You Send A Rebuttal. There Are Valuable Experiments On Surface Grains And Fruiting Trees That Cannot Be Neglected. Native Production Can't Support Our Population As Is, And-”

Something rare and steely came into Eddie's eye- the very thing Gaster had hired him for, now turned back around on him. The other man only shook his head. Growling, Gaster opened his mouth to threaten to fire the Lizard, just to vent his frustration on someone, but Eddie unrolled the scroll and pointed at the stamped Delta Rune at the bottom.

"The experiments will keep, maintained and continued by your phenomenal, hand-picked staff until your return. Staff that you specifically chose for their ability to do just that.” Pity came into the other man's eyes. “You're amazing, Doctor. No one can deny your brilliance. But for God's sake, what will you accomplish, working yourself to death? Half the time it seems like you'd just stay at the grinding wheel until you jumped in yourself!"

Gaster froze, his growing fury flipping to cold rage; Sans was at his side in a second. "let's go get coffee. i haven't eaten yet today, i don't feel so good if i'm honest. thanks for the warning, eddie. we'll see you later." 

Only the mention of his brother's health, and the insinuation of his eternally poor constitution, was enough to turn the shakingly-angry Gaster away from the oblivious Lizard.

Sans steered him with a surprisingly hard grip on his arm. "let it go," he murmured lowly. "how could he know? none of them do. he's worried for you, big guy, that's all. let it go." When he glanced up at Gaster he winced; his brother's eyes were half-lidded, a deceptively emotionless mask plastered on his comparably more malleable face. 

"As you say, Sans," he signed coolly, and the other man could have groaned with frustration. It was always one step forward, five steps back with his brother, and any insinuation of weakness, no matter how unmeant, was enough to drive him to some icey, hidden place deep in his own mind. Not to mention just the implication of...other things. 

"for real. no one knows. you...made sure of that. even i didn't know, until...well, it doesn't matter. here's the cafeteria."

-

As mid-day approached, Gaster opted to go to his own home instead of his room at the brother's house; he'd done so more and more, lately. They were too alive, too happy. He drug them down like lead weights on a net- better that he not interfere with their enjoyment.

He took the city trolley home, silent and brooding, expressionless as humans and Monsters alike stared at him. A child cried when they saw his face, but he refused to think about it. Who wouldn't shudder at the sight of him, melted and misshapen as his visage was?

Papyrus greeted him at the door to his small house with a cheerful smile, a promise to check in on him very regularly, and a list of ideas for places he could go over the next two weeks. "UNDYNE AND I HAVE DONE ALL OF THESE THINGS, SO I KNOW THEY'RE AMAZING! PLUS, YOU'LL GET A RECEIPT OR SOMETHING FOR PROOF. THE KING SAYS YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING AT LEAST TWICE."

Gaster pushed past him. He tried to find his voice, failed, and signed one handed, "Choose and I will go." Then he shut the door in his brother's face, and hated himself for it.

Hours passed as he stood, staring at the floor while the pressure built.

-

Midnight finally came, the moon shining in through cracks around his heavy curtains, always drawn. It illuminated the warzone of his living room; Gaster had broken many things that night, ending crouched in the center of the room clutching the sides of his head, baring his teeth at nothing. 

What was wrong with him? All of this was caused by one thing - himself. This, this weakness, this doubt, this spiraling chill and placeless frustration that made it so hard to feel anything but irritation or sick-emptiness, oh it was enough to make him scream. How easy it had been, to disappear into nothingness, to close his eyes with one tremendous impact, and let it all end...

Only to be pulled back. Summoned, drawn back into life yet again by a ten year old mage child wielding nothing more than a dry stick and sheer Determination, the most powerful of magics. They'd patted his cheek, signed "Everyone gets a second chance," in perfect Monster Sign, and walked into the Queen's arms.

For a time, he'd thought it was truly a second chance. A year passed, then two. Things were better. Easier. That pathetic, weak, malingering sense of apathy and emptiness had trickled back so slowly that he'd even thought he was free. Free to work unhindered, free to accomplish all he needed to. All his people needed him to. 

Only to realize he was not. 

It all remained, building and building like the rumble of some terrible beast. A flaw in his personhood, a collar leashing him to a brand of fury that he hated but couldn't let go of, lest he fall into the empty, dead waters beneath.

Snarling, he lashed a hand out. A worthless award, something handed to him long ago by pissants at an idiotic ceremony, flew across the room to embed in the drywall. What did it matter, what did ANY of it matter. Awards, declarations, titles, they were worthless. The work was not done. It was never done. 

He deserved no praise at all. 

-

A few restless hours of sleep on the couch bought him a brief reprieve; as usual, when he opened his eyes, the first thought in his mind was, 'Oh...morning.' Somehow, five years after the barrier broke, it still always surprised him to see the sun, tremulous as it was through his black-out curtains. 

It didn’t feel right to enjoy its warmth, yet. Perhaps someday. When he had finished all he set out to do.

His phone was as empty as always, save for Sans' fresh batch of memes and puns (his brother, as usual, felt the need to try and cheer him up), and a single text from Papyrus. 

"MADE YOU A NOON APPOINTMENT. SHE'S VERY GOOD. BE NICE, SHE'S MY FRIEND." And then an address.

Oh. Right. He wasn't allowed to go to work. His one use. 

Sighing, he began to pick up the remains of last night's...well. 

Best not to think of it. 

He showered quickly, avoiding his reflection in the bathroom mirror as always. Too worn out and emotionless to care what Papyrus had lined up for him- he would endure it no matter how mortifying or obnoxious, then report back with proof so he could return to more important things -he dressed in his usual black trousers and button up shirt, then wavered between driving and ordering an Uber. Finally he settled on driving, plugging the address into his phone and arching a 'brow' at the result.

‘Haven- Bodywork and Physical Therapy’

Good gods above. 

Gritting his teeth already, he pulled out into city traffic, his usual tension headache forming behind his eyes. The drive was thankfully uneventful, though he realized as he parked that he was a half-hour early. So be it, perhaps they would take him early so he could leave. The sun made him squint as he walked the short distance to the front door, painted a dark purple against the gray stone of the building. A repurposed old house, it seemed, tucked into a more secluded corner of Ebbott, surrounded by forest.

Opening the door, he was rather surprised; he'd expected bright whites and colors, the usual quasi-bohemian smash of styles that such nonsense places tended to decorate with. Instead, the interior was dim to the point of dark, decorated by sandstone tile floors and salt lamp fixtures, with warmly colored wall hangings and comfortable chairs and floor cushions to wait on. There was a nearby door that undoubtedly led to where whatever godforsaken 'therapies' were performed. The walls were covered with shelves of Underground plants, faintly luminescent in the dim light. On the other end of the rectangular waiting room was a high wooden dining table with stools, and another door set into a clean, well-organized kitchen space.

He was begrudgingly admiring the plants- someone was caring for them very well, judging by the richness of their glow and the strength of their softly-swaying aerial parts, when the door by the kitchen clicked open. 

Turning, he beheld you for the first time. Gently swaying to whatever music you were listening to on those little earbuds humans loved, you walked lightly over to a small refrigerator and began pulling out ingredients.

Then, you took out an earbud, turning…and jumped so hard your hip hit the counter behind you, making him bite back a snort.

“Ow! My goodness, Doctor Gaster, right? You're even taller than Papyrus. Sorry about that. I…wasn't expecting you yet.”

He said nothing, only watched you.  

Taking a deep breath, you motioned toward him. “Please, take a seat if you’d like. Lunch is included with your session, and your brother has already paid.”

Gaster inwardly growled at how well his family knew him and his proclivity to skip meals. 

You bit your lip for a moment, then smiled politely. “You're welcome to stay here or wait in your car, whatever will please you. You're a bit early, so things will be ready in about twenty-five minutes. It is terribly hot outside, though.”

That thought alone made him hesitate; he hated the heat now. Seeing him pause, you motioned again to the room. “I don't mind at all if you stay, if you don't mind that I listen to music while I cook rather than chat. This is my off-time between appointments.”

He shook his head. Thank god. Perhaps you could do so the entire time, and that was the very last word he'd ever have to hear from your lips.

Ah. No such luck.

“So…this is a private center- only one guest at a time. You don’t need to worry about anyone else coming in. Bathroom is through here, first door on left-” you motioned to  where you'd come in “-if you want it. There's a garden out back as well, you'll see the sliding door if you go the same way.”

You gave him your name, and showed him how to unlock the front door he'd come through. Then you locked it again and put your earbuds back in, walking back over to the small, neat kitchen.

Seeing as there was nothing else to do, Gaster sat at the far end of the wooden table and watched you. Begrudgingly, he thought to himself that you were undeniably pretty; he wasn't blind, after all. You were graceful, with bright eyes and steady hands, and there was something...interesting, about watching a woman cook exclusively for him. It was a novel experience for one; his time spent with the opposite sex, outside of work, had universally been fast, promise-less, and over with by dawn. Though there'd been none of that at all for the last five years, nor at least another year prior to his…accident. 

You were obviously experienced, perhaps even skilled, at least to his untrained eye- the casual flipping of aromatics in a pan of sizzling oil was almost enjoyable to perceive, if just for your competency in doing so. Root vegetables were shredded so finely under your quick and careful hands that they looked more like thin strands of string. These, along with a portion of white liquid, parts of some other bottles from the fridge, and some measures of spices went into the pan together before you covered it with a glass lid and moved on to peeling surface fruits. Oranges and pears, his memory supplied. Your top was loose and soft looking, a pale blue worn over black leggings; he rubbed his fingertips together thoughtlessly. 

At the very end, he watched as you gently pulled a crystalline jar from the cabinet, a tiny silver scoop attached to the side. Two portions of fine, sparkling powder went into the pan, and a third was sprinkled over the fruit. A fourth was stirred into a glass of iced tea, making it glitter faintly.

Ah. Concentrated, inert magic. Seemingly, you had enough Monster clientele to require this most essential ingredient. Otherwise, none of them would have ever been able to eat what you prepared, no matter how lovely the smells wafting from it. Gaster realized, with some unnameable feeling, that it had literally been months since he'd had a meal that wasn't take-out...when he bothered to eat at all. Probably his last had been at his brother's, back in late Spring...the last time he'd visited for longer than an hour or two. 

The thought stung, souring the strangely peaceful mood that had come over him while he watched you. He pushed himself upright...and when had he started leaning on his hand? What time even was it, when had he stopped watching the clock on the wall? 

His confusion was interrupted by a steaming bowl of soup, a plate of prettily cut fresh fruits, and the glass of tea being set down neatly before him, along with cutlery and a cloth napkin. 

"I'm going to go prepare the room," you murmured. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes for you. Please enjoy- it's a coconut curry soup, mildly spicy as your brother mentioned you preferred. You can leave everything on the table when you're done.”

You walked by him and disappeared through the other door closer to the more usual waiting area. He frowned, then tried the soup.

It was delicious. 

---

Behind the door, you took a deep, steadying breath. My god how he'd watched you. Like a falcon tracking a mouse, his gaze unwavering. You'd been warned, as thoroughly as the intrinsically polite Papyrus could bring himself to do, that your client today was a hard, cold man. Prone only to irritation and short-temperedness, with a penchant for skipping as many meals as his body would let him.

What an understatement.

When you'd first noticed him, early as he was, you'd jumped more from the strangeness of his proportions than from his appearance itself- the man dwarfed Papyrus and your friend was, at last check, a solid six foot five. His face hadn't been where you'd expected, and the surprise was made worse by how severely his white bones stood out against the solid black of his clothes, blending into the comfortable dark of your front room.

Still, he'd softened some as you worked, his gaze going from those sharp, laser-bright pinpricks to the more diffuse, soft motes of light you were used to from his brother as he slowly relaxed on the stool. Seemingly he had eyelids, for the one working had glacially fallen to a half-lidded contemplation, his chin coming to rest in his hand until some secret, inner thing made him stiffen back upright again.

You hadn't turned your music back on, but he hadn't spoken a single word. Again, you'd been told to expect that, as you'd also been told to expect the damage visible on his face. Only a single curt nod when you'd confirmed his name, and then that cold, impersonal gaze...

So be it. As long as he was somewhat polite, you would do your job, and he could leave. 

And that was that. 

---

He finished the meal, never being one to waste food (he remembered want, and hunger, and being trapped after freedom), and somehow even this only angered him further. What kind of physical therapy office had a private menu?

Worse, he was an intelligent man. Intelligent enough to know there was nothing to BE angry about. Sans had spoken only the truth.  Eddie's concern was justified. The crown's exacerbation with his comportment was understandable, and their demand of a sabbatical was sensible. This place was lovely, and undoubtedly an expensive, well-planned escape from the stresses of daily life…

But he could not let it go. Like a terrier with a rat, he had his teeth clenched on irritation to carry him past whatever flaws were within him, and now he knew nothing else.

A faint hiss interrupted his brooding, making him turn. Gently-sparkling mist was gathering around the Underground plants, the sound of it carrying over to him. When he slid off the stool to get a closer look, he saw tiny, clear, flexible piping carrying the water from some hidden source in a closed cabinet below; he tuned his hearing to a lower range, and heard the faint hum of machinery inside.

He also now heard your footsteps approaching the door right beside him. Jerking upright from his examination, he took three quick steps away, wanting some distance for as long as possible before you began whatever idiotic 'spa services' Papyrus had selected. What were you going to do, give him a facial ? The thought made him smile cruelly- he could lie there and pretend to be none the wiser as you struggled over what to do for a man made only of bone. Perhaps you would even ban him as a customer…

An almost certainly hopeless wish, if you saw Papyrus with enough regularity to be friends. But Gaster had never once won someone's affection through his personality, so perhaps that could overcome any fondness you had for his brother. 

(How easily he forgot those older years, when things were brighter. When he still had hope, and didn't snarl and snap at every hand outreached. When anger and cruelty were passion and a sharp wit. )

Your face was calm. "I hope your lunch was enjoyable.” Turning, you went back in the room, talking over your shoulder as he followed.

This room was as lovely as the front; two treatment tables draped with dark sheets, and a floor space in the middle cleared of everything except a large mattress-type cushion, a few additional pillows, and a small basket of bottles. The windows were treated with something to make them blurry, defusing the sun, and covered by dark, sheer curtains. Little tables and counters circled the room, holding fountains, statues, and a rather disorganized collection of books.

“This is time set aside for you. An hour of your day that you can't spend doing anything else, because you're already here, so you may as well spend it ensuring your body is a little more resilient for the next one. Learning to relax is something many people struggle with, but it helps our body be strong and stay healthy. Humans AND Monsters."

It was so nice in the space, so deliberately calming…the words came before he could bite them back, acidic and unprofessional. "Of Course You Would Know. Being An Expert In Monsters."

Your gaze didn't waver as you turned to face him. "I am a licensed Physiotherapist, and attended an additional two years of education at the University of Arcane Studies six months after the barrier fell. I am currently attending continuing education specifically tailored toward non-physical and quasi-physical Monsters. So of course I'm no expert. But I am accredited by the university that you helped to found."

His lip curled at being so neatly refuted. "Am I To Be Impressed By Your Resume?" 

It vexed him deeply to see you roll your eyes in reply, not even a little stung by his acidity. "Obviously not. You don't strike me as the type of person to be impressed by anything." You struck a barn-burner and began lighting oil lamps, walking the circumference of the room slowly as you did. "I'm very well reviewed by clientele from both peoples, and the techniques I use are based on research and anatomical theories, not wiffy, hand-waving nonsense about inner peace and energies. You might even be able to survive the awful, evil relaxation long enough to enjoy it."

He felt as though he hated you, in that moment- you were too quick, like him. Too able to predict his next attack, like him. He felt vaguely trapped, watching the lamplights flicker off your face each in turn as you circled methodically around him, like a vulture wheeling over a dead carcass. 

His voice was raspier than usual, straining at his throat as he forced the words past his magic. "And Quite The Talker, Too. Barely A Second Person Needed In Conversation With You, Is There?"

To his immense irritation, you turned to wink at him. "What, with such a chatty partner to converse with? I'm at a loss for where to get a word in!" You blew out the long match just as it reached your fingertips, leaving the burnt end in a glass cup full of them on a nearby table.

His throat caught when he tried to answer you again; turning slightly, he cleared it, annoyed as much with his own body as he was with you. Not missing a beat, still with your back turned, you murmured, "I am trained in Standard Northern Sign, and Monster Universal Sign."

Papyrus had seemingly been quite thorough in his preparation for Gaster's arrival, if you knew to offer. Clenching his jaw, he spelled, "Fantastic. Go fuck yourself." at the back of your head, the bones of his hands clicking faintly.

"Oh my sincerest apologies, Doctor Gaster. Perhaps you didn't know; humans only have eyes on the front of their skulls. A sad evolutionary flaw." Your voice was smooth and sweet as honey as you turned. "Would you be so kind as to repeat yourself?"

He glared at you in answer, one hand clenched, and after a moment you sighed, raising your hands in the air. "Peace, Doctor. Peace. I understand you've been given a.... directive to come here. I understand it isn't your preference. Let's have a truce until you're done, I'll give you a receipt, and you never have to see me again." 

It took every bit of his willpower not to answer something nasty. Still, you stayed facing him, giving him the chance to answer hatefully or not, rather than turn away to effectively silence him as so many others did. That was worth something, at least.

"Fine. What folderol do I endure here?"

You blinked, then smiled in bemusement, your first real smile since your initial meeting. "I...actually don't know that sign. Please clarify your insult for me."

Rolling his eyes, he finger-spelled it out, and you laughed. Laughed! "Oh!" You copied the sign perfectly, repeating the movement a few times as you mouthed the word. An open-handed circle around the side of the head, followed by a dismissive finger flick. "How funny." Then your face turned pensive. You asked, in only slightly-hesitant Monster sign, "Would you prefer this for the rest of our session?"

(Yes.) 

"I would prefer that you get to whatever I am here for, so I may leave all the sooner."

Biting back a sigh, you sat down at the head of a long floor cushion, thick and soft, and placed a pillow in front of your crossed legs. “You were scheduled for a session of assisted bodywork." Patting the pillow, you gazed up at him calmly. “Please lay down. I'll be working from your head to your hands, maybe down to your waist depending on how quickly we progress. I'll support and move you, all you need to do is resist me at any point and I'll hold there. It allows you to focus on your arcane meridians, without the distraction of also holding the position while you do.”

Gaster grit his teeth even harder than he was already. This was something he'd had done before, though in a far more sterile, medical setting. After he…

...

No.

He laid down rather than think about that further. It was strange and off-putting, having his head this close to another person. But there was some gentle perfume around you, something lightly floral and clean, that intrigued him just the teeniest bit.

Your hands were cool, dry and soft, a drop of faintly herbal-smelling oil providing slip. "These first few minutes are simply to relax and feel nice. Close your eyes and be in the moment. Your sixty minutes start now."

Damnably, it did feel nice. You rested your hands over his skull, your fingertips on his temples, and used your thumbs to gently press his brow and forehead in slow, outward lines, working methodically down. A few gentle circles around his eyes later you moved beneath them, your thumbs stroking the thin bone below as your fingertips pressed pressure points under and around his jaw. "Unclench your teeth," you murmured; he obeyed resolutely. 

"Nothing I do should hurt. If it does, tell me right away, or push back against my hands harder than just a gentle stop." You paused. "I...was expecting you to look more or less like Papyrus. And of course you do, in some ways. But the two of you are very different in others." Sketching your hands up over his cheeks, you pressed your thumbs very gently into the slightly malleable 'flesh' there. "So I need to check in with you. Is that okay pressure? Too much? Too little?"

He raised a hand. "It's fine." It felt good. The woman could have gone harder...if he'd been here to enjoy this.

Which he wasn't.

---

And so you both progressed. Gaster, resolute and barely tolerant, pliable to the point of non-participatory. And you, trying your best to make the experience as enjoyable as possible. 

If you were honest, it was the easiest session you'd ever had. You remained where you were, not even daring to move past his head, neck, shoulders and arms. Doubtless he'd bristle at anything beyond. 

His bones were almost weightless in your hands, and you wondered if they were hollow like a bird's- he offered no push back whatsoever, his good eye squeezed shut and his teeth perpetually gritted. You gave up reminding him to stop after the third time; it seemed to annoy him to the point of anger, his magic zinging and pinging off your skin where you touched him even though his shirt...just how powerful was this man? Papyrus had said he was very old, and you'd learned at the University that magic, and the Monsters that wielded it, formed like geodes. Slowly crystallizing and clarifying, growing in strength and potency with the passage of time. 

You were thankful he'd worn long sleeves, for you doubted he would tolerate more than a few minutes touch on his bare arms, and you didn't really want to feel that stinging, defensive brush of his power unfiltered. But even the shape of his bones made you curious, occasionally visible as they pressed under his sleeves and trousers, for they were longer and slimmer than a human's; a mimic of humanity much like his younger brothers. Yet he was as different as the other two were from each other. His hands were solid, save for a large hole in the center of each, as was his face. Each possessed something like hard, taut skin; it stretched over the bones of his fingers, skull, and (when you bent your head just a bit to peek under the collar of his shirt), at least the upper part of his chest, where pectorals would be on a human. 

If you were being honest, he was fascinating in texture and form…and you were very, very careful never to linger, to never give even a hint of professional interest or simple admiration of the difference. There was a degree of professional separation you had to maintain with any client, but it was more like an obtuse angle with him. 

Still, there was progress. Barely. It was glacial- almost thirty minutes passed before he resisted you for the first time, his right wrist tightening the tiniest bit as you gently flexed it backward. You held there, waiting to see if he wanted less stretch...but no. After a few moments, magical ligaments and bones faded very, very dimly into view in that large hole that bored through his palm, motes of barely brighter light passing from elbow to fingertip and getting caught at some invisible congestion within the space as you waited. You didn't dare murmur encouragement, or soft guidance to relax and focus only on movement and an effortless passage of magic between two connected points, as you would with others. The prickly man would doubtless see it as an insult. Instead you stayed silent, focusing only on the calm intention, as you'd learned from your Monster teachers, that he would accomplish this magical unblocking easily and painlessly. 

"You don't need to understand," they'd taught. "No Monster understands the intricacies of every single other Monster, our kind is too varied. All you need to do is hold intention. It has power, when applied to a magical being. Focus your mind and still your thoughts. Count your breaths. Seven in for the influential planets, four held for the elements, and ten out for the numerology of completion.”

So you did. You cleared your mind, two years of daily practice Underground preparing you well, and sank into what you considered your 'center', a well you imagined in your chest. From there, letting your eyes fall half shut, you hoped simply that he would succeed in whatever he was doing within himself, and waited. 

Unaware of time, you felt only when the resistance in his hand faded. Lost halfway in a meditative trance, you finished pushing his wrist through its range of motion, then gently brought his hand to rest back down on his chest. Naturally, your eye was drawn along with the movement, where you realized he was breathing in time with you.

And his eye was open. Watching you, dare you say, almost calmly. 

His signs were almost...graceful, compared to their sharp, harsh expression before. "You are trained in the Empty Mind." It wasn't a question, but you nodded anyway. Moving slowly, like you were approaching a wild horse, you raised your hands into his field of vision. You even kept your language general and impersonal. "I don't want my thoughts or beliefs to interfere with the other person. I'm only the support structure, one that can move with them and respond as they need it to." You hesitated to continue, but his face remained surprisingly pensive, his breathing still in time with yours . "I was taught to do so, to remove any risk of my own influence. Human intention carries power that can influence magic, I believe that lesson came from your own writings." Oh fuck it. If he got mad at this, so be it. "I'm happy to meet the person who discovered so many of the things we learned in our classes."

He rotated the wrist, flexing his fingers, and said nothing more.

But he did close his eye again...and visibly, with effort, unclenched his jaw.

So you continued, sliding your feet under his shoulders and using them as leverage to raise his arms gently above his head, stretching them upwards with your hands loosely around his forearms. By the time you were nearing the end of the hour, he had only stopped you twice more. Once for his right elbow, taking a few minutes to move the magic as he wished it to, and once for his neck- he raised a hand, shaking his head when you slid your hands under it, and so you moved on smoothly without touching it further. 

The tabletop fountain beside you changed color, flashing green three times- your silent alarm for an hour passing. You'd had your hands under his shoulders, letting his head and neck fall back ever so slightly as you took the weight of his ribcage on your palms. Sighing out a breath, you shifted position slightly, crossing your legs so the movement could signal him to most likely run screaming from your office, never to return. 

But he didn't. 

With substantial surprise, you realized that he'd fallen asleep. At rest, the man's face was strange and otherworldly. His 'cheekbones' were high and sharp, his chin angular. Even his eye, when open, was a more angular shape than the rounder opening you were used to on Papyrus...

Like this, without the hissing and spitting so intrinsic to his personality, you dared to think he was actually quite handsome. 

Papyrus had mentioned his sleeplessness, his anger at the world and frustration with everything around him, and some terrible unspoken tragedy that had struck him years before, one that you were never to reference or ask about. With that in mind, you hated to wake him. He was your last client of the day, surely you could let him sleep...

The very moment you moved your leg again to stand he jerked wide awake, his upper body moving in a blur to bring him halfway to his knees as fast as you could blink. 

His fingers were wrapped tightly, to the point of sharp pain, around your outstretched wrist. 

---

Gaster couldn't speak. His eye roved over your face sharply, his mind scrambling between terrible embarrassment and lingering fuzziness. This was an overreaction to the extreme, he knew that…

Your other hand closed around his gently, your face calm. “You're hurting me. Please let go.”

The moment he comprehended the words, he let go and jerked back, crouching. Finally, his worthless tongue came unstuck, enough to grate a few whispered words out. “M-My Apologies.” Shaking your head in answer, you raised both hands, still sitting with your legs crossed. “None needed, I'm sorry that I startled you. An hour has passed, we’re done for the day. I was going to leave the room and let you rest longer. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Your wrist was already turning bright red- you tucked it subtly against your leg, pressing it down to soothe it without seeming like you were. Gaster could have slapped himself. 

Watching him carefully, your eyes flicked to where he was looking. “Ah. I'm fine, really. I did my residency at the VA, you're…not the first person to wake up fast while I was near them. At least you didn't swing on me.” You stood smoothly and he winced, because he saw your effort to take a step back as you did, no doubt making sure he didn't feel entrapped or constrained. 

“I'll go unlock the door. You're welcome to leave in your own time….sir. And I do sincerely hope you have a good rest of your day.” 

He got to his feet slowly, nodding to show he'd heard as you slipped out the door, closing it softly behind you.

A residency at the VA. You'd worked at one of the hospitals where wounded human soldiers were treated, and with the term residency...your educations were the same. You were a doctor, of some type. Not just some randomly licensed masseuse.

He rocked in place, unsure what to do with that realization. An oil lamp nearby began to gutter, throwing sparks off the wick; he extinguished them all with a wave of his hand. 

(Certainly not because he wanted to protect your business from an errant fire.)

He left the room briskly, then paused; you had your back to him, washing his dishes. 

The words wouldn't come. But your back was turned, and that made the signs easier. 

“I am sorry. For hurting you.”

As he let himself out, he didn't notice your eye following him in the reflection of a copper plate hung above the sink, a small smile on your face. 

Notes:

Fine FINE, I'll struggle through second person just for you Pheebyweebys, and all my other readers as well. I hope you're happy :)

Let me know what you all think! This is a much more severe, unhappy Gaster than I usually write. But don't worry. In beautiful imagination world, love truly can heal all wounds.

I need OC's for this fic- comment in detail your cute, scary, friendly, douchey, or anything in between OC! Could be human, could be Monster- I can't guarantee I'll use them exactly as you describe, but you'll know when they appear!

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 2: Emotional Freedom Technique

Notes:

TW: Suicidal Ideation, Depression, Risk-Seeking Behavior

Things will get better. But first, we gotta get through the hard parts.

The song that suddenly starts playing on Gaster's radio is "Stressed Out" by 21 Pilots.

When Papyrus called later on, Gaster had been driving aimlessly, looping around the mountain roads outside of the city with the radio on, feeling dazed, strangely chilled, and terribly embarrassed. The song switched right before his brother called, and the lyrics made him wince- they were too...fitting.

I̷ ̴w̸a̶s̶ ̶t̷o̸l̶d̸ ̶w̴h̴e̵n̴ ̶I̸ ̷g̷e̶t̴ ̸o̷l̸d̵e̵r̵,̷ ̸a̷l̶l̷ ̸m̵y̵ ̵f̴e̴a̴r̷s̸ ̸w̷o̸u̵l̵d̴ ̶s̴h̶r̴i̶n̸k̸

̵B̶u̵t̴ ̸n̶o̴w̶ ̶I̴'̴m̷ ̶i̷n̷s̶e̶c̶u̴r̷e̶,̷ ̶a̸n̵d̸ ̸I̶ ̶c̶a̷r̵e̸ ̵w̷h̵a̶t̸ ̸p̶e̸o̶p̷l̴e̵ ̵t̷h̴i̵n̵k̴

He almost didn't answer the phone.

...

...but then Papyrus would be sad.

“OH! HELLO! USUALLY YOU DON'T ANSWER! BECAUSE IT HURTS TO TALK AND ALL! BUT I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU THAT I WAS PROUD OF YOU FOR GOING, AND I HOPE YOU LIKED HER.”

Gaster turned down the radio enough that Papyrus would be able to hear his reply. “She Was…Very Professional.” I almost hurt your friend, Papyrus. Something is not right within me, and I don't know how to fix it.

“YES! SHE WAS EXCITED TO MEET YOU! APPARENTLY SHE STUDIED A LOT OF YOUR WORK WHEN SHE WENT TO OUR UNIVERSITY.”

The road here bordered a steep cliff drop off; it drew Gaster's eye like a magnet. 

“SHE TEXTED ME BEFOREHAND ALL ABOUT IT. I THINK SHE'S A BIT OF A FAN! DID SHE…SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THAT, TO YOU?”

Why would she have? I treated her like shit from the moment I arrived. 

He realized he'd started to drift over the center line and wrenched the steering wheel back again, gluing his eyes straight ahead and refusing to look at that deceptively innocent edge. It must have been hundreds of feet to the ground, but there wasn't even a heavy guardrail there. Just some rusted metal edging, and warning signs on poles. 

‘Dangerous Drop! Slow down!’

Slowly, unconsciously, his foot pressed the gas. 

“WELL, ANYWAY, I'M REALLY GLAD YOU WENT. I TEXTED HER JUST A FEW MINUTES AGO, AND SHE SAID THE TWO OF YOU HAD A FINE TIME! THAT'S GREAT! SEE, THIS WAS JUST WHAT YOU NEEDED…"

W̵i̴s̵h̴ ̸w̷e̸ ̷c̴o̴u̷l̸d̴ ̴t̵u̵r̸n̶ ̸b̸a̴c̸k̷ ̵t̴i̸m̴e̸ ̴t̴o̷ ̴t̶h̴e̶ ̵g̵o̷o̴d̵ ̵o̷l̸d̸ ̵d̸a̶y̴s̶

̸W̴h̷e̴n̶ ̵o̸u̶r̴ ̸m̸a̶m̸a̸ ̸s̸a̶n̷g̷ ̴u̸s̴ ̷t̵o̷ ̸s̵l̷e̷e̸p̷,̷ ̴b̶u̷t̵ ̷n̷o̷w̵ ̸w̷e̴'̸r̴e̸ ̵s̴t̶r̷e̸s̸s̸e̶d̷ ̴o̸u̵t̸...

55mph

“...SOMEONE WHO CAN HELP YOU RELAX. YOU'VE BEEN…UPSET, LATELY. FOR A WHILE.”

65mph

“YOU DESERVE IT, YOU WORK SO HARD FOR EVERYONE! YOU HAVEN'T TAKEN A DAY OFF IN YEARS, YOU EVEN GO IN ON THE WEEKENDS. I'M GLAD YOU GOT-”

75mph

“-A NICE BREAK.”

A corner came up that was so sharp, Gaster had to take control of the car with magic as well as the wheel; even so, he barely skirted the edge of the turn, wheels spinning in loose gravel as his backend fishtailed. His Soul thrummed, making his hands and face numb with adrenaline from the near-miss.

He didn't slow down. 

“SHE'S REALLY SMART. SHE REMINDS ME A LOT OF YOU! I THINK YOU TWO WOULD GET ALONG REALLY WELL, OUTSIDE OF, YOU KNOW, THE WHOLE ‘DOCTOR-PATIENT’ THING.”

‘You're hurting me. Please let go. ’

“AND DON'T GET ME WRONG, I'M NOT MATCHMAKING OR ANYTHING! WELL, PERHAPS I AM.”

‘You're hurting me. Please let go.’

“MORE LIKE FRIENDSHIP MATCHMAKING. YOU NEED MORE FRIENDS. AND I SAY THAT WITH BROTHERLY LOVE AND CONCERN.”

‘You're hurting me.’

80mph

“CAN I TELL YOU A SECRET? YOU HAVE TO PROMISE NOT TO TELL ANYONE THAT I TOLD YOU. ESPECIALLY HER, IF YOU GO BACK. WHICH YOU SHOULD. BECAUSE IT'S GOOD FOR YOU.”

The signs were bright and insistent- a hard turn was ahead. Speed limit 15.

Gaster glanced down, and watched numbly as the speedometer crested 90.

“OKAY. I’M GOING TO ASSUME YOU SAID YOU PROMISED, BECAUSE I AM JUST DYING TO TELL YOU, AND ALSO YOU ARE MY BROTHER SO YOU DESERVE TO KNOW.”

Now he could see the corner up ahead. Beyond it, the edge of the cliff, and empty space. His finger lingered over the button to hang-up; his brother didn't need to hear…

“WELL…”

“SHE SAID SHE THINKS YOU'RE HANDSOME.”

 

…

 

Gaster SLAMMED on the brakes, so hard his tires screamed as he dropped from sixth to first gear with a horrible metal-on-metal grind, trying to stop in time. It took every ounce of skill he had along with the entirety of his magic racing out to reverse his momentum, desperate and frantic.

The smell of the clutch smoking hit him as he sat there, panting and wide-eyed, not a hundred feet from certain death.

“-ASTER? GASTER?! ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“...A-A Deer. It Jumped Out…In Front Of Me.”

“OH YIKES, I'M SORRY! GOOD REFLEXES THOUGH!”

Papyrus let a huge gust of breath out. “WOW THAT WAS LOUD, JEESH! ANYWAY, I SHOULD STOP DISTRACTING YOU. I JUST KNOW YOU SPEND ALL YOUR TIME WITH BORING SCIENCE PEOPLE INSTEAD OF PRETTY GIRLS, SO I THOUGHT MAYBE YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW WHAT ONE SAID ABOUT YOU! BUT REMEMBER, IT'S A SECRET!”

“...Okay.”

“OKAY, TALK TO YOU LATER! BYE!”

The moment he hung up, Gaster tried to grab his phone- it had gone tumbling to the floor. It took three tries for him to close his hand around it. 

Trembling, he dialed his other brother.

Sans, usually the consummate lazy bastard, answered on the first ring.

“bro? you never call, you good? what's up?”

“...Can You Please Come Get Me?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, like something pathetic and small.

“oh shit, uh yeah man of course, of course, where are you? are you okay?”

Gaster's jaw worked, trying to get an answer out. His throat suddenly felt very tight for some reason. 

“gaster are you okay ?! where are you bro, just tell me where, i’ve got you alright? you just gotta tell me where to jump to, i'll be right there.” 

“W-Wait A Second. I Don't Know The Road Name.” He'd gone from trembling to shaking; trying to pull up the GPS app felt herculean. Finally he did, and screenshotted the coordinates. 

“wow, you're…a little out there. but that's okay, no problem. gimme five, i gotta break it up into steps. fuck, hey, stay with me on the line okay? just…just stay on the line.”

“Okay Sans,” he whispered, his head falling back against the headrest, still stalled out in the middle of the road. “Okay."

Sans had asked for five, but it was less than a minute before he felt his brother's unmistakable magical signature pop into existence some fifty feet behind the car. He could guess what Sans saw- tire tracks, still new enough to smell, to look wet and glistening.

His brother gave him an easy smile when he walked up and opened the door gently. “hey. let's go, come on. i called roadside, told them you had a brake issue. they'll come get it. just throw your hazards on.”

Gaster blinked, looking blindly between his brother and the dashboard of his car. Sans sucked in a breath, clicking it against his teeth in a nervous noise Gaster had heard from him since he was born. “okay, no problem-boblem, lemme just lean over ya real quick-” he reached past Gaster, hitting the red button between the radio knobs.

“alright, come on bro. up ya go.”

Sans had to notice how hard he was shaking, but said nothing about it. It took some considerable strength on his part to stand Gaster up, but finally in the end, he got him leaning up against the side of the car. 

“cig?” 

He nodded mutely. Sans lit them both one, and they stood there at five in the afternoon, smoking together in the middle of the road. 

Sans got to his third before he turned to face Gaster again. “wanna talk about it?”

Gaster was watching as the cherry burned the filter, getting close enough to his fingertips to hurt. Sans knocked it from his hand.

“...I want to go home. Please.” Despite the cigarette, his hands still shook so badly that Sans had to mouth the signs to himself to understand them.

“...alright. c’mere.”

He took his brother's hand, and the older man closed his eyes as the world fell out from beneath their feet.

 

-

Sans had taken him to his own home, which Gaster appreciated. He loved Papyrus. But he would be…too much right now. Too much concern. Too much fretting. 

He collapsed down onto the couch, holding his head in his hands. His brother hesitated, then covered his shoulders with the blanket hanging over the back. 

“did something happen at that thing today?” He glanced around, seeing, but not commenting, on the hole in the drywall near the front door. “papyrus said it was like a massage therapist's place or something.”

His hands were a bit steadier now. “No…she was fine. Educated…and polite.”  

Sans sat down a little heavily in one of Gaster's chairs, a sheen of blue in his face from such a long series of teleports. And then he waited. 

Sans could out-wait anything. He could watch grass grow, or paint dry, and be comfortably entertained the whole time.

Finally, Gaster raised his head. It was impossible to guess how much time had passed; he didn't have a clock in this room.

“I fell asleep. During it.”

Sans nodded encouragingly. “hey, that's good right? you hardly sleep at all anymore.” 

Gaster turned to stare across the room for a long moment before shaking his head. “When she woke me up, I almost hurt her Sans. She…startled me.”

A confession. “I left a mark on her arm.”

How many Hail Marys was it for hurting someone who meant you no harm? How many Our Fathers to atone for being a bastard to a woman eager to meet you: a woman who still thought, after seeing you at your nastiest, that you were han-...handso-...

He couldn't even bear to think it. Didn't deserve to right now.

Sans’ face flicked through a series of expressions; thankfully, Gaster was turned away from him. Confusion, dawning realization, and then, for a moment, terrible fondness.

“it was an accident, bro. maybe, and don't snip my head off for this, maybe you just gotta…you know, tell people? warn them that you're a little jumpy.” He sighed. “shame she's not a monster. if she was, you could just say you were from before the barrier. she'd get it then, no questions asked.”

“She went to UAS.” A pause. “One of…the pilot blended classes, I imagine. She had to be, to have gone as early as she said she did.”

Humming, Sans pulled out his phone. “well now i'm curious. what was her name again?”

Gaster told him, and for a moment there was nothing but silence. Then Sans made a little noise of discovery in his throat. “here we go. yup, you're right like always.” He scrolled a bit. “wow, supplemental postgraduate studies, psycheo-galdercraft. defended a secondary thesis and everything.”

He turned the phone so Gaster could read the title there. ‘Soul-Bearing Struggles: An Examination of Mental Illness And Its Unitive Effects On the Physical and Magical Systems.’

“...please send that to me.”

His phone chimed a moment later, and Gaster turned to stare at the floor. Then there was quiet, for long enough that he wondered if his eternally exhausted brother had fallen asleep. Glancing over, he saw the younger skeleton scrolling, undoubtedly reading the woman’s work

Sans caught his eye. “this is actually pretty interesting. a lot of stuff about reactivity, physical expressions of emotions and all. she’s given it names, documentable patterns of severity and specific measurable criteria. i guess traumatic illness and injury were her original areas of study.”

His voice was so hoarse, it sounded fake. “I-If A Thing Can Be Measured, I-I-It Can Be Qualified And Treated.”

"exactly the point she's making. we know emotions affect magic, and we're made of magic. that even humans have a bit of magic in them. ‘how do the two quantifiably interact, and can those interactions be intentional and therapeutic when combined with other stimuli, like manual rehabilitation techniques and therapeutic movement?’ is how she put it right here.”

A pause.

“i'm ordering pad thai. do you want coconut curry shrimp or chicken satay with yours?”

“...she made me something coconut and curry based. Like a private menu for clients.”

A tiny glimmer of something niggled at the back of Sans’ mind. “yeah? was it good?”

He nodded. 

“i’m glad. papyrus and undyne love the place, apparently her house is beautiful. she lives there, you know.” Gaster shook his head; he hadn't known that. Wonderful. He'd lashed out at her in her own home. 

“yeah. i’ve never met her yet, but she goes out with them on the weekends.”

He finished typing the order in, sent it for delivery, then looked, really looked, at his brother. 

“hey. accidents happen. she literally seems to study this exact shit, so i doubt she went weeping and wailing into the hills cause the scary skeleton got a little spooked.” The other man didn't answer, so Sans went on. “but you're…really upset about it. why not send her like, i dunno, an apology? a fruit basket or something. flowers. something a lil’bit nice to show you didn't mean it. that way, you can feel better about the whole thing too.”

Gaster sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands as he nodded. 

“great. let's watch something stupid on tv, take the day off.”

---

A few days later…

Late in the evening there was a knock on your side door, the one you had marked for packages and deliveries. Frowning, in the middle of rubbing the shadowy bruise on your wrist, you muted the show you were watching- some garbage drama about a Monster and human love triangle -and went to see who it was.

A friendly-faced Otter Monster was there, wearing a blue and white uniform and holding a large basket or container of some kind, wrapped in plastic. “Hello hello! I believe this is for you, Deep Elm Drive, right?”

You smiled. “Yes that's right. What is it?”

The Otter bit his lip. “Well, it's a planter, but it has some unusual care instructions. And it's a bit heavy. Can I…bring it in for you? Or would you rather I just…set it down out here?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from making a face. This poor man was just trying to do his job, but was obviously used to being told he couldn't even walk in someone's house to do it. “Of course. Set it on the island.” Walking back in, you led him into the kitchen, then turned to face him. “Could I get you anything to drink? Some water? Even this late in the day it's terribly hot.”

The man smiled at you. “Ah, that's alright ma'am. Monsters can't eat or drink anything unless it has…” He trailed off as you held up a jar of powdered magical essence from off the counter “Well then. Water would be lovely.”

You made him a glass of ice water as he carefully unwrapped what he'd brought in, revealing…a planter? Maybe? It was the strangest planter you'd ever seen. The container was more of a large bowl, made of beaten metal- maybe polished tin, or steel? It was brilliantly silver, the hammer-marks tiny and uniform. But even the loveliness of the container couldn't match what was in it.

“Flickering Glories. A very, very rare Underground plant.” The man sounded very proud. “They're my specialty- I'm the only one who's figured out how to get them to grow up here.”

Blinking in surprise and a little awe, you came closer to inspect them. It was as if someone had taken the essence of darkness, or perhaps nighttime itself, and trapped it in a perfect dome over the container- there were even tiny flickering lights suspended there, like faint stars. The ‘soil’ of the bowl looked like crushed, gray rock, interspersed with faintly-glowing, milky crystal points embedded down in. And at the tip of each crystal, a glowing purple…something, something that moved like it was alive, rested lightly - pulsing faintly in time with each other and each no bigger than your pinky nail. They looked like some deep sea jellyfish, or perhaps strange, otherworldly dandelion seeds.

Now unwrapped, one, then another, and soon all of them took to the air, floating upward with swimming-like movements until they reached the upper rim of that impossible curve of shadow, then gently fell back down to light on a new crystal point. Each time they touched down, the crystal they selected would light up softly with a pulse of that same purple, then fade. 

“My god…” you whispered, “They're beautiful… ”

The Otter smiled widely. “Thank you so much.” He pulled another jar of essence powder from his bag. “Five scoops of this, in a gallon of spring water only . Absolutely no tap water. Fill the basin up to just under the surface of the stones whenever it falls more than a few inches. Nothing with chemicals. No perfumes or air sprays near them. Being in here should be fine, but if you burn something, move them to fresh air.”

He examined the bowl from every angle, turning it this way and that. “I'll have to renew the spells about, oh, once a year? The silver should hold the magic at least that long. I'll call you closer to that time, if I could have a good number for you?”

You gave it to him, writing it on a spare scrap of paper on your kitchen table nearby. The little things were beautiful, swimming around in earnest now that they were freed. “Can I, I don't know, touch them?” 

Fussing with the stones within, smoothing them out, the man shook his head absently. “Not yet. Not until they get used to you- they can sting people they don't know, to protect themselves. They're delicate, fearful things, though they'll try to fake being very tough and scary to keep you away.” His face was gentle as he stroked a finger over one of the tiny plant-creatures. “Give them a few months in your home, you’ll be able to tell when they’ve acclimated to you. They’ll sort of…relax. Let you pass by without rising to meet you defensively. But they can't get past the barrier, don't worry about that.”

His words…the description. An idea was forming in your mind, one that lit something warm and rather exciting, low in your belly. “Sir, this is…gorgeous. Beyond imagining. Who sent these?” 

The Otter Monster glanced aside, then back again. “The….sender asked me to give you this.” He handed you a small envelope, hand-addressed in a small, cramped handwriting, as well as his own business card.

“I do have other deliveries today, is there anything else I can do for you right now?"

You shook your head, sliding a nail under the envelope to open it. “No…thank you. I'll call if I have any questions.” 

The Otter let himself out, walking back to his delivery van as you unfolded the note within. 

The paper was lovely, thick and pressed with linen to make it soft.

“So you may understand me.

And know that I am sorry. 

I have no excuse. Only an apology.

Be well.

Dr. W.D. Gaster”

Chewing your lip, you turned to stare at the, what had he called them? The Flickering Glories.

“My, oh my…” you whispered, clutching the note to your chest.

Notes:

Look in the real world, of course pt's shouldn't fall in love with their clients eventually, and of course you need like a 3-compartment sink and a health inspection and all to serve food as part of your business, and of course love is not a sole cure for depression.

But this is happy imagination world, where all of that and more is safely, happily possible.

Let me know your thoughts! This is a much darker, sadder man than I'm used to writing.

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 3: Talk Therapy

Notes:

The song playing on the radio in the garage during *that part* is 'Too Sweet'- Hozier'

You chewed your lip, laying in bed as you hemmed and hawed over sending the text you'd written- you could see the Flickering Glories on the island through your bedroom door, happily dancing in their container. They'd only been delivered two days before, and already you were terribly fond of the tiny things…and the many potential implications that came with them, if you let your imagination run wild.

Thank god it was Friday, you needed time to vegetate and think. With a feeling of finality, you squeezed your eyes closed, and blindly hit ‘send’. You got an answer immediately . 

‘Pap. Lay it on me straight. What's up with your brother?’

‘THE LAZY, SMELLY ONE? OR THE MYSTERIOUS, SAD ONE?’

‘The second lol’

‘OOOOOOH, WHY? ARE YOU, PERHAPS, MOST ADMIRING OF HIM?’

‘He sent me a beautiful gift after a simple accident happened on Monday, I think he's being too hard on himself over it, and I just wondered if you had any thoughts. 

‘AH, DID HE TRIP AND LAND ON YOU AND KISS YOU SENSELESS?’

‘You caught me.’

‘We couldn't keep our hands off each other, there's practically a dent in my bed.’ 

‘It was love at first sight’

‘I KNEW IT!’ 

‘No but for real. You don't have to go telling me secrets. I just…I kind of feel bad. It seems like a terribly expensive apology.’

‘WELL, THAT'S JUST THE KIND OF PERSON HE IS. AS SHORT-TEMPERED AS HE IS WITH OTHER PEOPLE, HE'S FIVE TIMES WORSE TO HIMSELF.’

‘I see…’

‘WHAT DID HE GET YOU? CAN I KNOW??? IS IT SECRET????

‘Haha no it's not a secret. But it's freaking beautiful, you should come see it.’ 

You got up, padding out to take a picture. As they had the past few days, the Glories turned and went stiff at your approach, flaring their tiny points in your direction. Cooing at them soothingly, you held your phone up. “Just taking a picture for my friend, little guys” you murmured, trying to find a good angle. “No need to be upset.”

Finally getting a photo that captured how lovely the entire presentation was, you sent it to Papyrus

‘Like a terrarium crossed with an art piece, it's gorgeous. Probably one of the nicest things in my house.’

‘OH WOW. YEAH, I'D SAY THAT'S A PRETTY SUBSTANTIAL APOLOGY.’

‘The delivery guy said the bowl was silver, do you think that's actually true? Cause that's fucking obscene if it is, like more of a gift than I can accept.’

‘PROBABLY. BUT YOU CAN'T GIVE IT BACK, YOU'D HURT HIS FEELINGS.’

‘BESIDES, MY BROTHER HAS A LOT OF MONEY. HE WORKS CONSTANTLY AND DOESN'T BUY MUCH.’

You wandered back into your room then changed your mind and went to the bathroom, plugging the drain and starting a bath.

‘Oh? What does he actually do, besides ‘Big Science Things’ like you said last time?’

‘IMPORTANT SCIENCE THINGS.’

‘Pap!’

‘NO LIKE FOR REAL. HE IS A ROYAL SCIENTIST. HE'S IN CHARGE OF A TON OF PROJECTS. BUT MAINLY SOMETHING TO DO WITH FOOD PRODUCTION RIGHT NOW.’

Pursing your lips, you picked through your box of bath bombs until you found one you liked. 

‘Really? He didn’t exactly strike me as the agricultural type lol.’

‘HE ISN'T. BUT MONSTERS CAN'T KEEP UP WITH FOOD SUPPLIES NOW THAT SO MANY MORE ARE BEING BORN.’

‘AND WE CAN'T EAT HUMAN-GROWN FOOD UNLESS EXPENSIVE MAGIC POWDER IS ADDED TO IT.’

‘SO HE WAS MOVED TO THE PROJECT. THAT'S SORTA WHAT HE DOES- HE FIXES HUGE, BAD PROBLEMS WHEN THEIR MAJESTIES CALL FOR HIM.’

Oh. That was horrible, you'd had no idea they were dealing with a problem like that. It seemed so…mundane. A race who could apparate gemstones from thin air still had to grow food with dirt or water, but limited to only one, relatively crowded place.

‘I'm…really sorry to hear that. Wow.’

‘So the responsibility of literally inventing a way to grow more food in the same amount of space has fallen to him? Unless I’m wrong in assuming that it has to be grown under the Mountain for you guys to eat it?’

‘NOPE YOU'RE RIGHT. AND YUP. THERE'S OTHER PEOPLE WORKING ON IT AND ALL, BUT EVERYONE TRUSTS HIM THE MOST. HE'S DONE IT BEFORE- SOLVED SOMETHING IMPOSSIBLE.’

That made you smile, dropping your clothes on the floor of the bathroom. Papyrus’s admiration of his brother was undeniable.

‘That sounds awful. All those people depending on him, no wonder he's so stressed out! It's amazing that he's as…”polite” as he is, all things considered.’

Sighing at the hot water, you sank in, playing with the purple bath bomb foam one-handed as you held your phone over the side of the tub with the other.

‘I hope he's okay. You've told me so much about the guy, I practically feel like I know him, though of course I don't really.’

---

Papyrus and Sans exchanged a look, both of them leaning over his phone at their kitchen table as he texted you. As one, they shot a look down the hallway behind them, where Gaster's room, when he wanted it, was. The man was currently in there doing lord knew what; he hadn't come out for four days after he'd agreed to come back home with Sans, except to be teleported back once to check on his house.

Papyrus got a steely look in his eye. He grabbed the phone, stood up, and marched down the hall. Sans reached to stop him, then paused- maybe this was the right plan after all. 

Taking a steadying breath, Papyrus knocked on the door. “BROTHER OF MINE? YOU HAD BETTER BE DECENT. CAUSE I’M OPENING THIS DOOR.”

Gaster's voice was a raw wheeze. “You Most Certainly Are Not.”

“I MOST CERTAINLY AM. OR YOU CAN COME TO THE DOOR. SHE GOT YOUR GIFT AND IS TALKING ABOUT IT. YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT SHE SAYS.”

“...Lovely For Her. Now Go Away.”

Quickly, moving faster than his brother could react, Papyrus opened the door, lobbed the phone gently in, then slammed it closed again.

-

Misty purple magic caught the phone at the top of its arc- Gaster glared at the door, but the shadow underneath told him Papyrus was already walking away, flicking the hall light out as he went. 

Festering busybodies. Only the horribly sad look on Sans’ face kept him here in the first place, rather than returning to his own home. That, and the chilling, distant realization of he'd been close to doing, less than a week ago…

…and the fact that his transmission needed repaired. The tow company was supposed to bring his car over by the next morning, at least giving him something to do- the skeevy mechanic they'd taken it to could suck his dick, like hell he'd let someone else work on it. He'd already ordered the parts he suspected he'd need.

Gritting his teeth, he snatched the phone from his magic…and raised both eyebrows. 

You'd sent a picture of yourself in the bathtub, taken from the waist down. Only the tops of your legs were above the water; the rest of you that would be visible was covered in bright, purple-tinted water and foam. Gaster wondered if he was seeing something between you and his brother that he shouldn't have (and didn't that thought pinch him, just a little bit), until you sent a follow-up text.

‘Hehehe it looks like sludge. I am a goo monster.’

‘Aha, or a goo Monster!’ 

‘Are there goo Monsters?’

He rolled his eyes, a tiny smile curling his lips despite himself. Not flirting at all then, it seemed; you were just being silly. 

Another picture- a closer shot of your ankle and foot, covered in more purple foam. 

‘Ooooh, look Papyrus. A gross human foot, full of BLOOD and LIGAMENTS’

‘My god it could even contain ORGANS’

A snort escaped him as his smile grew. Scrolling up, he read the most recent conversation…

It felt so surprisingly good to read how much you liked his….gift. 

His apology. Gesture of goodwill. White flag.

Tring was an excellent horticulturist, and Gaster's own basin of Glories were a lovely, constant little reminder to return home one more day, if only to make sure they had enough water to survive. 

He'd almost forgotten that, Monday evening.

The past few days had been full of nothing but introspection and him reading your thesis. He wasn't a stupid man, incapable of seeing himself clearly…but my God did it feel so pathetic to give it a name. The name he'd known for years, and avoided.

He had depression.

It was a betrayal from his most important tool; his mind. Something he felt he should have been able to ‘think’ his way out of, since he had no brain like a human in which neurotransmitters could be unbalanced. A frustrating, damaging flaw in his psyche that had haunted him his entire life, and one that was made far worse by stress and pressure.

He scrolled up further, and found a prior conversation with his name in it. One from Monday evening. 

‘HOW DID EVERYTHING GO? DID HE BEHAVE? WAS HE NICE?’

‘As a bull with a thorn in its ass.’

Fair.

‘No, but honestly…it's hard to explain. He wasn't not-nice, not really. Just horribly defensive. Trying to cut before something cut him, if that makes sense.’

‘WHAT DID YOU TWO DO?’

‘Hey, you know I can't talk about that.’

‘I AM BEREFT OF GOSSIP. I SHALL DIE ON THE SPOT.’

‘Fine. Here's a gossipy secret for your evil little soul- your brother's hot.’

‘In a very’

‘very’

‘very unapproachable way.’

‘HNNMMNNMMMGMGO4O4RNF9T’

‘YEAH?!?’

‘Mmhm. Strikingly handsome. Once you get past the razor wire and the acid moats.’

‘I literally think he hates me lol, no guy like that likes being told what to do. Maybe pick a different thing for him if he needs two, I'm happy to help if he wants it, but he was miserable with me.’

‘Maybe something with less touch.’

Gaster sat down on the bed, shaking his head in bemusement. ‘ Not playing matchmaker’ indeed, eh Papyrus? he thought, reaching up to rub the back of his neck distractedly as he noted the time stamp- this conversation couldn't have been more than twenty minutes before Papyrus called him. Sneaky bastard.

As for the rest of what you said…no, he hadn't hated it. Or you. Your speculation was right, though admitting it felt like a defeat- if he'd gone of his own free will (which he probably never would), it would have been relaxing and enjoyable. Especially the beginning part, his head ached so constantly lately that it had actually felt…good.

It was the indignation of being sent home, like a child naughty at school (and with homework to complete no less) that bothered him, made him extra acidic and nasty with you.

There was more before that- memes, pictures from a night out together, and then what looked like an unhappy conversation about some relative of yours. He turned the screen off when he reached it- that wasn't meant for his eyes.

Then, feeling weak, he turned it back on, scrolling to the part where you'd said he was hot, and ‘strikingly handsome’. With more than a little guilt, he took a screenshot and sent it to himself before deleting the message and picture both, and emptying the trash folder just to be sure. This would be his own personal little mischief, a sneaky but harmless thing to look at when he needed to feel something other than…what he usually did. 

Sighing, he looked up at himself in the large, standing floor mirror. Perhaps once, he'd been handsome; women had complimented his voice the most, saying it was deep and rich, tempting to listen to. His features were still…decent, probably, except for the terribly visible damage to his eye and the ugly, yawning cracks on his face. Scars that had remained since the mage-child had dragged him back into life, much like the damage to his neck that ruined his speech. He wasn't sure, but he supposed he'd hit the magma head first, shattering his skull and breaking his cervical vertebrae. 

People always thought it was a liquid. How wrong they were. 

He opened the picture on his own phone, reading your words again.

‘...your brother's hot’

‘...strikingly handsome’

Oddly enough, a tiny chuckle worked his way up through his throat. Small enough that he choked on it, making him cough instead.

-

Sans and Papyrus, their skulls flattened to the door, blinked at each other when they heard their brother very, very softly laugh…and immediately start to cough. They both retreated as one back to the kitchen table. 

Sans was the first to speak, his voice a sly whisper “isn't he working on his car tomorrow?”

His brother nodded. 

“...i have a kinda fucked-up idea.”

Papyrus grinned . 

---

“No, it makes no fucking sense! It was FINE yesterday, now today I go out to start it and it won't even turn over! I tried charging the battery and everything! This isn't how I wanted to spend my damn Saturday Pap, I gotta tell ya.” You were stomping around your house, furious- your haircut appointment was in twenty minutes, and your car wouldn't start. 

Papyrus ‘tsk'ed into the phone. “DO YOU NEED A RIDE?”

Groaning, you flopped down on your couch, propping a foot up on the coffee table. “No, I'm already too late. I'll have to pay AND reschedule.”

Your friend paused, humming to himself. “WELL, WE HAVE SOME WORK TO DO ON OUR CARS TODAY TOO. MY BROTHER IS VERY HANDY WITH THAT KIND OF THING, MAYBE HE CAN HELP? YOU CAN COME RELAX IN OUR POOL WITH ME! PERHAPS THE CHLORINE WILL FINALLY BLEACH THAT NASTY SKIN OFF OF YOUR BONES.”

You hesitated; Sans, from everything you'd ever heard about him, was hardly the expeditious sort. It would be nice to have your car fixed sometime this week at least. 

“That feels awfully presumptuous of me, Pap-a-dap.”

“HE LIKES FIXING THINGS. GENUINELY.”

“Well…hold on, I'll call you back.”

A quick call to your usual mechanic ruined your idea- he didn't have any openings until next Friday.

Grumbling, you googled the nearest towing company, and arranged for your car to be taken to the brothers’ house. 

A quick text to Papyrus later- 

‘I'm riding over with the towtruck. You'd better have mimosas, I'm bringing bloody mary mix.’ 

-and your plans for the day were changed. 

Muttering in disgust under your breath, you went and changed into a bathing suit, and a thin black dress to cover it up. 

The Glories acted their usual persnickety selves as you walked by, gathering drink ingredients. “Oh hush, you're fine,” you muttered, standing on your tiptoes to grab a bottle of mix off the top shelf of your cabinets. “Crabby lil fellows. I'd never hurt you.”

Unnoticed by you, one slowly softened, it's tiny tendrils relaxing down until it simply rested on its chosen crystal.

The tow guy was friendly, and took your tip with a smile and a firm handshake. You spent the ride over texting a friend from college- Jessica was a great person to bitch about things with. 

To your relief, the driver only laughed when a Skeleton man, naked except for a white tank top and a tiny orange speedo, came sprinting out to greet you. The two shook hands- apparently he knew Papyrus.

“HIS MOM AND I GO TO THE SAME BINGO HALL!” Papyrus announced, steering you out back by the shoulders as the guy lowered your car into their wide driveway. An SUV was already there on jacks- large, black, sleek, and expensive. 

You frowned. “Is that your brother’s car?” Honestly, you hadn't pegged Sans as the type for something that nice. 

Papyrus grinned at you. “YUP!”

Their pool was large, surrounded by a deck with a makeshift mini bar set up on one side. You started unpacking ingredients as Papyrus fished out glasses and plugged in a blender.

“MIMOSAS, PINA COLADAS, BLOODY MARYS, AND SANGRIA. THE FOUR DRINKS THAT ARE SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE TO GET SMASHED WITH AT 11AM ON A SATURDAY.”

“And thank fucking God for that.” 

Dumping your bag on a lounge chair, you tied your hair back, and stepped off the deck into the pool with a splash. Staying under until your lungs burned, you surfaced, then hung off the side and made grabby hands toward Papyrus. 

“Mimooooossaaa….” you whined, sticking your lip out. Chuckling to himself, Papyrus started mixing. There was a pleasant quiet for about fifteen minutes as he squeezed oranges like the bougie-ass Skeleton that he was.

You floated, letting your mind drift.

Footsteps made you turn in the water; here came who could only have been Sans, the shorter skeleton looking comfortable in a pair off black basketball shorts, an eye-smartingly pink t-shirt covered in oil stains and smears of engine dirt, and a pair of absolutely filthy house slippers.

“heyyyyy, nice to finally meet you!”

He reached down, shaking your hand with a grin. “whoops, sorry. got some gunk on you.”

Shrugging, you rinsed your hand off in the pool as Papyrus wailed about “THE FILTER QUALITY!” and “GROSS CAR CHEMICALS IN HIS WATER!” 

“No problem for me! Pap is making drinks if you want one.” Oh he was easy to talk to, already giving off chill vibes. How could these two brothers (and the third, now that you thought about it), be so different? 

Papyrus stomped his foot. “NO GLASS IN THE POOL! GET OUT IF YOU WANT IT, YOU-YOU MOIST DIRT SPREADER!!!”

You groaned. “Don't you have a single damn plastic cup?”

“NO! THE MICROPLASTICS ARE BAD FOR YOU!”

“Alright, mother…” Sans snickered as you got out, swiping a towel from the stack on a table nearby and draping it over your shoulders. Already the sun was beating down, making it absolutely roasting outside. 

“so, car troubles?”

“Ugh, yeah.” Snatching a mimosa from Papyrus's grip, you leaned forward on the bar until your back popped, twisting your ankles to do the same…waiting…

“EWWWWWWW!!!!! EW EW EW!” Papyrus flicked his hands at you, looking for all the world like a granny trying to shoo cats off her porch. “GROSS! AWFUL! DISGUSTING BONE CRACKING SOUNDS! WET SLIMY JOINTS!”

You and Sans both started to laugh, ‘cheers'ing each other as his brother complained. 

---

Gaster sighed, pushing out from under his car with irritation; just as he'd suspected, he’d literally cracked the master cylinder, and there was a transmission fluid leak somewhere along the line he'd just been poking.

Between him and Sans running to the parts store and back, a second car had shown up in the driveway; a little white sedan. Glancing in through the window gave him no hints at all to the owner. Perhaps one of their coworkers had stopped by, or one of Papyrus's enormous pack of friends. 

Laughter from behind the house carried over on the breeze, blending with the music coming from within the open garage; Gaster hummed when he caught a woman's voice in the mix. Could it be Azalea from the PR department? She and Sans were good friends.

His phone buzzed on the concrete beside him. 

“come get a drink we're at the pool”

“you’re all…washed up”

“it's going…swimmingly”

“ugh not my best lol”

Grumbling, Gaster wiped his palms on his borrowed black tshirt- the only crappy piece of clothing in the house that fit him -and stood with a groan. Doubtless his jeans were covered in dirt from the driveway…and wouldn't Sans make fun of him for being ‘fussy’ if he caught him checking his rear in the reflection on the side of his car? Dusting at the black fabric with both hands, he finally gave up and cut around the house rather than track car dirt inside.

Papyrus was half-heartedly bitching about something as he ascended the stairs to the pool deck. He got halfway to the top before stopping short at what he saw, his jaw clenching unconsciously.

You were standing there, draped across the counter as you absolutely sobbed laughing at something, flanked by Sans while Papyrus cocked a hip, sashaying in place behind the bar. Gaster's eye followed a drop of water as it fell from the hip of your bathing suit and down, over the curve of your ass and the length of your leg. 

Thoughtlessly, he licked his lips.

“No, oh my god Pap how would you even do a body shot? Where the fuck would you put the salt?”

“IN A VERY SEXY LINE ALONG MY STERNUM! OR PERHAPS INSIDE MY PELVIS, HOOOOOO WOULDN'T THAT BE SCANDALOUS ?”

“It would fall everywhere man, there's no way.”

A memory stirred in the depths of Gaster's mind- if one was very careful, the salt in fact would not fall everywhere. 

You pulled yourself back upright, your cheeks and chest flushed as you picked up your drink and snatched a bottle of Monster booze from Papyrus's hand, skipping away as he tried to grab it back. 

“Nope! Mine now! I wanna go look at my car with Sans, I'll be right back.” 

He was frozen in place as you danced over toward the stairs, laughing over your shoulder. Following behind you, he saw Sans notice him. An evil grin spread across his brother's face.

“BUT IF WE DRINK STRAIGHT LIQUOR AT NOON, WE'LL BECOME ALCOHOLICS!”

“Become? Papyrus, baby, you can't become what you alr-”

Reaching the first step, you turned as you stepped down, and came face to face with Gaster. 

“-ead…y? Um…hi?”

Gaster bit the inside of his lip to keep a straight face at your expression; he couldn't have surprised you more if he'd actually tried. You were flushed and wet, your hair slicked back high on your head, in a pretty little bathing suit that showed off your curves and soft-looking skin…and you looked absolutely mortified. 

It was rather cute. But he didn't want to make a fool of himself by grinning for a moment like an idiot, especially when your last meeting had been so ugly.

Your bathing suit tied at the hips, he noticed. Two little bows, holding it on your body. 

He rubbed his fingertips together. 

“Ah…Hello.” He winced at how roughly his voice came out.

Suddenly, visibly nervous, you rocked back on one foot- standing nearly 5 steps higher than him, the two of you were at the same height. Sans came up close behind you, a half-finished bloody mary in one hand and a sangria in the other that he passed over your shoulder.

“here bro, have a drink. you two have met and all, right?”

Gaster nodded, reaching out to take the glass from Sans as you sat the bottle of liquor on the desk railing beside you. “Yeah yes, we have, um-” 

His eye fell to your wrist, where a dim, green-ing bruise was visible; you followed where he was looking, and your face softened.

“All good. Accidents happen.” Grinning lopsidedly, you stepped down another step, coming a bit closer to him. “My first roommate in college? She pranked me one night, jumped out at me while I walked back from the showers. I broke her nose, had to drive her to the ER at like…two in the morning. She never spoke to me again.”

Behind you, Sans giggled. “damn bro, who nose. maybe she'll catch you off guard and take you down.”

You rolled your eyes. “Low effort, Sans. Try again.” Visibly rallying yourself, you smiled up into Gaster’s eyes. “I guess more than one brother is working on car stuff today. I'm sorry, I feel like a terrible imposition now.”

Oh, it's hers?

Gaster walked backwards off the steps, letting you pass as Sans toddled along behind, fishing for a piece of celery in his cup.

“What’s Wrong With It? Your Car?” Could he be wrong, or did your eye trace over him as you passed, sweeping over his form with a tiny, unreadable quirk of your eyebrow? 

You sighed, wrapping the towel like a sarong. “It won't start. Won't even turn over. I charged the battery, but nothing happened.”

Gaster hummed, falling into step beside you. Behind you both, Sans glanced back at his brother, and gave him a very subtle thumbs up- Papyrus nodded sagely in reply. Putting his hands in his pockets he slowed down a tiny bit, long enough to sip his cocktail and give the two of you just a smidge more space. He knew, knew this was the right path forward. Put Gaster in a social situation, especially one with any formality, and the barrier came up as prickly as a bramble hedge. But give him something to fix? Someone who needed his help?

Suddenly, his brother’s icy tongue would melt. Just a little bit. Enough to get to know the man hiding behind it. 

“Does It Make Any Sound At All When You Try To Start It? A Hum? A Click?” 

You shook your head glumly. 

“Probably The Alternator.” He paused as a truck went by, the engine loud enough to easily drown out his voice, and took a deep draught of his own drink. “Easy Enough To Check. Let Me Find A Multimeter.”

He left you standing beside his car and wandered into the garage, strangely at ease in this moment. A gift was all well and good…but he hated seeing that bruise on you. It was wrong, you were…kind.  Intelligent. You shouldn't be hurt by anything, much less some careless asshole like him. If he could fix your car, that would go a long way toward feeling better about all of it.

Sandaled footsteps came up behind him. He watched in the reflection of a workbench as you reached out, paused, then took a step back and called his name instead.

“Gaster?”

He turned.

You sat your mimosa down on a nearby table, then raised your hands. “If it hurts to talk, don't. I'm not implying anything or making assumptions. It's just stupid to…deal with something if you don't have to. Plus, it's fun to practice.” 

The movement of your hands drew his eye naturally to your chest, to the weight of your breasts behind your bathing suit top. Feeling almost dirty just for noticing it, he saw your nipples were hard behind the thin fabric, pebbled so stiff that they stretched it a tiny bit.

He rubbed his fingertips together again, then answered, “Thank you. You are…more gracious to me than I was to you.”

Sighing, you shrugged. “So be it. Everyone has bad days. He wasn't gossiping, don't worry, but Papyrus said, in conversation last night, that you're under a lot of stress at work. Unimaginable stress. I hope…you succeed at what you're doing. I wish you the best.” You hesitated. “It sounds awfully important.”

Out of both your eyelines Sans backed slowly away, full of satisfaction, thinking there we fucking go.

Gaster stared at the ground for a moment, then turned and continued rummaging for the multimeter. As he did, his elbow accidentally caught a large cup full of nails. Swearing, he grabbed for it…and closed his hand around yours and it both as you lunged in to do the same. 

It was truly the first time in months that he’d touched someone, aside from Sans’ hand levering him out of his car a few days ago. He wavered, wanting to jerk away, but that would send the nails flying. 

“Sorry! Here we go, no harm done.” You moved with him to set it back where it belonged, and the simple grace of the joined moment struck his eye.

(He'd enjoyed dancing, once. Long ago. Leading a woman. Feeling her weight resting against him as he moved her beautifully, showing her off to those around him like a wild bird in his hands.)

You’re too cold to be this poetic, Wing Dings whispered that ugly little voice in his mind. Too cold. Too skeptical. 

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the multimeter, and stepped around you toward your car .

I can't silence you, he thought furiously, leaning through your open window to pop your hood. I can't stop whatever sickness this is. He caught sight of you from the corner of his eye- you were leaning back on a counter, watching him as you smoothed the hand he’d touched down your bare waist in some subconscious movement- perhaps his hands were cold. Then you took a drink, your delicate little throat moving as you did. 

But there are people, my people, who will die without me. 

I will not leave the work unfinished. I will not listen to you.

…Damn your love of drops and falls. 

Bent over your engine bay, his face was hidden enough that he could close his eyes, could squeeze them shut in a moment of resistance. 

His palm tingled with warmth where he'd touched you.

God, he fucking wished he could do it again. He didn't even know why. 

Wasn't that pathetic?

---

Even though you were literally only two drinks in, you were, possibly, a little too drunk for this. 

Because stripped of his ferocious anger and formal clothing, Doctor Gaster was a painfully, paralyzingly, disarmingly attractive man. Many of your clients were conventionally attractive gentlemen, and none of them had ever bothered you this way, leaving you nervous and girlish with self-awareness. Weren't you too old for that shit?

It didn't help that you'd only known of him prior from his work, his writings and dissertations, where you could imagine a boring, dry, lecturing face to match the words.

But no. Black jeans and a black tshirt left him looking just as severe as he had before, but the casualness of his garb now laid a single-board bridge for your imagination to cross. Immensely tall, a solid seven feet if the garage door was anything to judge off of, with huge, almost delicate hands and an eye that held a sea of expression in it when it wasn't carefully veiled by distant irritation. A dark and raspy voice, and a mind so fast you swore you could hear it crackle.

Just like before, you were struck by how he looked at you. The man’s focus was absolute; when he met your eye or spoke to you, it was like a microscope coming to bear on your very being. No distraction, no split attention.

He was bent over your car, resting on his elbows as he fiddled with his tool, and you couldn't help but look where the back of his shirt rode up, revealing just the tiniest bit of the base of his spine.

Giddily, more than a little sauced, you wondered what felt good for Skeletons. If you touched there, would he stiffen? Shiver?

Would he make a sound in that deep, broken voice of his? It was lovely, despite its obvious damage.

Realizing your eyes had fallen half shut, you hid yourself in your glass, finishing it off and hoping you hadn't just been staring absolute sex at his back. But really, how was a woman supposed to stand it? Smart, handsome, AND handy? 

God, just take me now you thought, stifling a giggle. With what? Who knows. Guess we'd find out. He does have fingers…

He reached over, grabbing his drink and knocking the rest back…and then a bright purple tongue appeared to lick his lips, looking for all the world like a normal human one.

Oh. Okay. That's fine and not terribly hot at this moment.

Booze made you bold and sly; you wiggled your shoulders, using your thumb to juuuuust inch your bathing suit up enough that the bottom curve of your breasts showed beneath the line of the fabric. The man was never coming back for your services as a physical therapist, that was obvious. And now here he was, looking all masculinely slutty, covered in dirt and fixing your car like he was your boyfriend or something.

Why not have a tiny bit of fun? The worst he could do was shut you out like he had every other fucking second of your prior time together.

(Well that was a little unfair. He was being leaps and bounds more polite today. But still.)

You walked over, stopping beside him. “I'll get you another, if you'd like?”

He handed the cup to you one handed, signing, “Thanks” distractedly. 

You walked back, refilled the drinks from the pitchers Papyrus had sitting there (the two lazy boys were draped over lounge chairs snoozing, Sans not doing an ounce of work on ANY cars), and skipped down again. Pausing around the side of the house, you pulled the tie from your hair, finger combing it into what you hoped was a reasonably attractive look.

“Here you go. I didn't peg you for the sangria type.”

He was staring at your car with slightly pursed lips, frowning. “I like anything with red wine. It's definitely your alternator, but I have no idea what happened to it. It's simple to replace though. I just have to go get the part.”

You waited for him to turn to look at you, then smiled, signing, “I appreciate that. Thank you. You didn't have to do all this for me, let me go get my card…” Your drink splashed in your hand as you spelled, making you giggle. “Whoops!”

A single drop of juice landed between your breasts, and you watched, half-frozen under his gaze as Gaster tracked it the whole way to your navel, your skin raising in goosebumps from the tickle as it went. 

You should have stopped it, should have swiped it away with your finger…but something kept you from moving, from doing anything except watching his face. Then he looked up, meeting your eye with his…

There was hunger there. Thirst. 

“I’m good at fixing things. It's what I do.”

He glanced back down at your belly again, that strange purple tongue appearing once more to just barely wet the line of his thin lips, and you realized, with a jolt of arousal, that he was probably imagining licking it out of you.

Oh.

Oh.

He took a hesitant half step forward, leaving his drink behind on the edge of your car, and you copied him helplessly. The thought came to you that he'd be a beautiful dancer, all long limbs and deliberate movement.

Your name came as a murmur in his throat, the barest whisper passing his lips as you gazed up at him- you answered the same way, a subvocal hum in reply. 

His hand twitched at his side, a nervous tic of rubbing his fingertips together, as his eye roved over your face, down to your slightly bruised wrist, and back again. It was suddenly immensely, infinitely important for him to understand how unconcerned you were about it.

“It's okay,” you whispered, dropping your volume to his in an attempt to soothe this strange, wary man. “I'm okay. You didn't mean it, I know that.”

His fingers had a faint tremor, as, slower than the return of spring, he reached forward to barely, barely run his fingertips over the bruise, bending a tiny bit at the waist rather than step any closer. The butterfly-touch made more goosebumps rise on your skin, and you knew he saw them; the position, strangely and vaguely, reminded you the tiniest bit of an old-fashioned bow.

“The gift you sent me is beautiful, astoundingly beautiful. I sat it in the center of my kitchen so I could admire them all the time.” Pride came over his features at that. 

“But…please don't worry. It wasn't necessary, though greatly appreciated." It was hard to find words, so strangely heavy was his eye on you as he straightened. "There's no hard feelings. I don't think you're the kind of man to do that sort of thing on purpose. It happens. Now I know.”

He shook his head, hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure that he should agree with something positive about himself or not. 

“I Get…Startled. Very Easily.”

A pause.

“But I…I Don't Like Hurting People. ”

You nodded. “Okay.” Another half-step brought you even closer together. “Okay.”

He raised a single hand.

“Okay.” 

His eye dragged down your body again like nails, and by god it felt like you were going to melt. This was ridiculous, he literally hadn't touched you in any sensual way, and yet you could feel the heat between your legs grow. It was an almost purposeful, blatant admiration, like he was giving you the chance to see what he was doing and to back him off if you so chose, just with his body language.

It made your breath hitch the tiniest bit to realize this was a man with experience. A fine handler; one who knew how to treat hounds of pedigree.

The urge to kiss him was sudden, startling, and somehow terribly predictable; he had the unapproachable air of a priest, yearning and untouchable, and even at your first meeting on Monday you could tell there was something terribly exciting under his thorns. His gaze roved from your body, to your eyes, to your lips as you bit the lower nervously…you watched the light of his eye grow a tiny bit sharper, focusing like a lens as he followed the movement. His shoulders flexed under his shirt.

God above, no wonder he's so miserable.  He's starving. He'll eat me alive…and I'm just drunk enough to want him to.  

Though I'd want him sober, too.

His jaw worked for a moment. “Are You…”

"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

---

The shrill ring of his phone shattered the moment, making both of you jump- Gaster hit the back of his head on your car hood and swore as you clutched your chest, trying to slow your racing heart. 

He cursed, bending down to grab the fucking thing as it rang again. It was Poppy, one of his direct researchers. 

Hesitating and remembering his manners, he mouthed, “Sorry” to you as he answered it; you shook your head, waving your hand in reply.

He walked away toward the garage, happy to have something to interrupt his deer-in-the-headlights fascination with you in that moment. It had been terribly rude of him to stare; you'd obviously been nervous, your gaze demuring away from his as you'd licked your lips anxiously. He was being a fucking creep.

“What.”

“Sir! Look I know we aren't supposed to call you or anything right now but I just have to, sir it worked!”

His eyes widened. “Which Station?”

“Fourteen, heritage Northern sweet corn. We have stable temporal acceleration, hydroponic medium only. No measurable degradation in health or quality, acceleration stable at forty-five percent. I don't mean to be preemptive, of course there's still time for issues, but…it worked. It worked.”

Forty-five percent. Almost twice as fast as the usual growth cycle, and in a medium that couldn't be exhausted of nutrients by the constant double harvest, as long as they had a supply of supplemental fertilizers from the human supply chain.

“Poppy That's Wonderful.” 

He watched from the corner of his eye as you hesitated, waved to him, then trotted back around the side of the house. You'd leaned your hip back against his car for a moment, leaving a damp print on the paint- feeling like a pervert, he walked by and ran his hand along the spot, just to feel the water on his skin for a moment before the heat evaporated it. 

“Yes it's amazing! You were right all along, we had to convince the plants that everything was fine- who would have guessed? With your permission, we'd like to extend your protocol to sixteen through twenty-four, to see how aerials and root producers respond.”

You passed Papyrus as he approached like a mother hen, stomping over with a frown on his face. Gaster snickered quietly. 

“Yes. Do So. But I Have To Go, My Babysitter Is Coming.”

The other woman laughed musically. “Good luck sir. And, respectfully…you deserve the break. You sound…better.” 

Gaster hung up, putting a very innocent expression on. 

“AND WHO WAS THAT HMMMM?”

“Why, My Credit Card Company. Terrible Trouble With Skimmers At The Gas Stations Lately.”

His brother scowled, his hands propped on his speedo-d hips. “ARE YOU LYING TO ME?”

Gaster sighed, shaking his head morosely as he stepped around Papyrus. He was, in a rare moment of lightness, happy. So relieved. Finally, progress at last after months of empty effort.

“My Own Brother, Suspicious Of Me.”

Moving at a trot, he rounded the house, taking the deck stairs three at a time. You and Sans were head to head like old friends, giggling mischievously over something on Sans’ phone. 

“Sans.”

His brother looked up, cocking a brow. “hm?”

“Fourteen took.”

The other man stepped away from you with a quick ‘sorry’, coming closer to Gaster. “wait, seriously?”

“Poppy just called. 45% acceleration, no degradation. They're expanding to the entire west panel.”

Sans clapped him on his arm, real excitement on his face. “yes! fuck yes!” 

Gaster saw you perk with interest, but like the considerate thing you seemed to be, you kept your distance and busied yourself drinking all of Papyrus's pina colada. Said Skeleton came back around, shooting he and Sans a hairy eyeball…and then immediately started swatting at you, trying to take the pitcher back out of your hands as you laughed, twisting back and forth to avoid him.

Something pinched his arm. He glanced back down, and Sans was grinning at him. “Hey, pay attention! Don't let the bouncing titties distract you from your loving, concerned, coworker brother, tell me more? Any success with the infusion medium??”

“But they're so much more fun to look at than you, Sans. And I don't know more, you'll have to call Poppy. Mother heard my phone ring.”

With a scream of laughter Papyrus threw you, pitcher and all, into the pool. You surfaced, sputtering and indignant, and immediately got an evil look in your eye before it turned to a puppy-dog pout.

“Owwwwww, Papyrus! You made me hit my hand, you jerk!” You set the now-empty pitcher down and held your hand up with wide, sad eyes, just a few feet back from the edge of the pool so Papyrus had to lean far over the side to see. “Look! It's gonna bruise! My human blood! My capillaries! I can feel the cells dying!”

Gaster rolled his eyes, snickering; his brother was far too susceptible to the wiles of women. The very second Papyrus bent over with concern, you grabbed him with a tremendous splash, the both of you tussling in the water like kittens. 

Beside him, Sans smiled so wide at his distraction that he had to turn away for a second to hide it. His brother had terribly, desperately needed a break. Needed a pretty thing to talk to and help, a woman to impress so he'd have a reason, maybe possibly, to help himself too.

But there was only a week left of this mandatory sabbatical. How in the world could he keep this progress moving forward? He could only sabotage your car so many times.

At a certain point, he's got to want it himself, he thought, a little sadly. He has to seek her out, not just be pushed into her.

But not yet. That would be too much to expect this early. You both obviously had an eye for each other- now to nurture that interest gently, like the plants in the lab. 

An idea struck him.

He waited for you and Papyrus to finish your wrestling match, watching Gaster from the corner of his eye as his brother watched you from the corner of his eye, stirring himself a new drink and using it as an excuse to be facing you. 

Finally Papyrus crawled out, shaking himself off like a dog in a way that won a grossed-out look from you as his bones rattled. He trotted over, wrapping a towel around his head like a long-haired woman as you hung off the side of the pool, smiling fondly.

“hey bro, c’mere, i wanna ask you a personal question.” 

Gaster cocked a brow, but Sans waved him off. “i'll tell you later, i’m embarrassed.”

His brother snorted, making a face as Sans knew he would. “Ah, Ew No Thanks Then. Please Spare Me The Details."

Papyrus eagerly came over, and they walked a few steps away. Behind him, you asked Gaster something about what he was making.

“you're the only person in the world with a chance to convince him. when do you all go out again?”

Papyrus smiled, whispering in his usual exuberant way. “NEXT WEEKEND! DO YOU WANT TO COME TOO?”

Sans shook his head. “nah, i wanna talk to the king. he and tor and the kiddos get home saturday night. i have an idea. but it'll take some planning.”

“AND YOU WANT ME TO CONVINCE HIM OUT FOR DRINKS?”

“yup. with her there.”

Papyrus crossed his arms. “HE'S NEVER AGREED BEFORE. WHAT MAKES YOU THINK HE WOULD NOW?”

That made him hesitate. “i dunno. we'll think of something.”

-

The day progressed. Gaster replaced the alternator on your car, sneakily not bothering to run the card you gave him, then checked your fluid levels and changed your oil too, for…reasons. 

Look. Despite how piss poor the week had been, he would dare any man to not be motivated to do so and more, when every hour or so a progressively sillier you came flouncing through the house, sometimes sitting on a stool in the garage in front of the fan and talking about this and that for a bit with Papyrus, sometimes coming to peer at what he was doing and asking where he'd learned to do it. The attention was heady, making him terribly shy, but he yearned for more each time you left again. Especially when you commented on how great it was that he knew how to do this, how useful of a talent.

Eventually, you and Papyrus moved to the living room, you dozing in a thin little dress, Papyrus playing video games and occasionally stacking cheez-its on you. Sans wandered out after you fell asleep, and there was a comfortable, easy silence then - it felt good to work side-by-side with his brother on something that wasn't a deathly emergency. They had his transmission dropped and the line replaced by sundown, your car long having been finished.

Sans sighed, dusting off his hands. “hey. i wanna tell you something. and i don't want you to get weird with me about it, so just let me say it and then I'm gonna go order pizza and see if the ‘kids’ are still awake.”

Gaster nodded, sighing internally. He owed Sans an awful lot; he could take whatever chastising his brother was about to met out.

“i’m glad you missed that…deer. i’m glad you called me. i don't know what i’d do without my brother.”

Oh. That wasn't what he expected at all. 

Sans’ sign was usually lazy to the point of slurred, taking familiarity with him and the language to understand him sometimes. But in this moment it was crisp and concise, just like him- sharpness and clarity under a veneer of laziness. 

“things have been getting bad with you, lately. the king and queen were right to make you take time off- but bro, they shouldn't have to. i know i’ve said all this shit before, one way or another, but i'm still gonna say it again; you're more important than only what you accomplish.”

Gater sighed, staring at the concrete for a moment.

He had to choose. 

The fall?

Or the catwalks above? 

Because it was Sans, and only because it was Sans, who could keep a secret like a dead man, he cleared his throat (he didn't want the feeling of these next words in his hands)-

“Monday Night…Scared Me. I Didn't…I Didn't Know It Was That Bad Again.”

Sans gritted his teeth for a second, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “yeah… i can only imagine.”

Giving up on his voice, he switched back to sign. “I don't know how to…” Oh this was painful, like flaying himself open and laying under the sun. But Sans never wavered. Just stood, like he could for hours.

“I don't know where else to find value…besides the work I do. Sometimes I feel like I'm too old…like this is apoptosis. Something inside me programmed to end a thing that has lived way past its necessity. Yes, I know that's stupid. I know there's older Monsters, and it isn't even the age that bothers me, I…I don't know. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do about this."

Sans bit his lip. Sounds came out from the kitchen - Papyrus and you were rummaging through the fridge, making who knows what. 

“wait here. i won't bring her out. but didn't you teach me- if i don't know something, why not ask a fucking expert? what happened to your methodologica? stay.”

Sans went in through the screen door, and left the inner door open, walking up to you- Gaster could see it through the shadows on the walls. “hey. can i ask you some weird shit?”

“Oh, uh sure. What's up?”

Gaster took a step closer. 

“im gonna warn you, it's kind of morbid. it's cause of a friend of mine.”

“Shoot.”

“they're depressed. they've struggled with it for a long time, and i don't think they're actively trying to, you know, end shit anymore…but i don't think they'd be terribly upset if it all did. help me understand where they're coming from.”

You hesitated. “Oh jeez, well, I don't want to make a sermon here, it's not exactly a ten word answer…”

“please. i don't know what to really say to them. lay it on me, doc. give me some wisdom.”

“Okay…I mean, well…let me preface this by saying m’not a psychologist, or a counselor. I have a lot of training in the applied psych field, but-”

“yeah I know that. next.”

"Alright. Well…depression doesn't make sense to a person who doesn't have it. It doesn't seem logical, and that's okay. If you're not in that place then you can't understand, and if you do understand then you've been in that place. Does that make sense? Don't try to conceptually understand it. Just believe the other person."

Silence. He assumed Sans nodded. Gaster sat down near the door on a stool, staring at his hands. 

"Freud, he described it as anger turned inward. Others describe it as an inability to respond to rewards, or the feeling that what one does doesn't affect or improve their life in any way, so why continue to try? Sometimes it comes out of nowhere in a persons life, with no external trigger...and other times you find it in people who have had negativity proven to them, again and again, an outside cause leading to an inner pattern of disordered thought. So they stop being able to risk the same let-downs, because life has proved to them that a let-down is coming."

The chopping sounds stopped- Papyrus had gone quiet. Throughout it all, your voice was...sad. Something about this was personal.

"Depression…can be defined, I feel, as a state of inverse expectation. 'If I expect something, it can hurt me. If I hope for something, it can be destroyed. So I'll give up, and expect nothing. Attempt no self-rescue, because something has already popped my lifeboat before, and I can't go through that terrible realization again'..."

"IT'S LIKE THAT EVIL DOG EXPERIMENT ALMOST. LEARNED HELPLESSNESS."

"Yeah. Exactly."

"so then...what the fuck do you do for them? how can i help my friend?"

Someone in the kitchen shifted- from the sound of it, you had taken over Papyrus's chopping while you talked. 

"The thing about the extrinsic things that influence depression? We can change them. We can leave the scenario, without leaving life itself.  But it's almost always so much harder, hell, it might feel and BE borderline impossible. Change almost always requires us to make other people and things change as well, or at least the fuckin’ herculean effort of setting boundaries that never existed before and dealing with the severe backlash from friends, family, coworkers, community, whatever the thing was that was contributing in the first place. We were probably very useful or predictable to them in that state, and now we want to upend their comfort to save ourselves."

Distantly, suddenly rather weary, Gaster filled with admiration. This was a tremendous explanation, concise and clear. It showed the depths of your education. 

It was also eye-openingly accurate. 

"When you have depression, you're exhausted, practically crawling on the ground. Tired in a way that people who haven't been to that point just can't understand. Worn ragged by the constant, backbreaking effort of redirecting the mind against everything that has been very well proven to it- defying proven reality to try to take one more step each day. Tired like a cancer patient, so tired that the effort it takes to find happy and good things in the world is impossible to muster. The cup is empty. The well is dry."

He didn't cry, but his eyes welled up. God and christ, but he was tired. Three, four hours of sleep a night for a year or more now. Constant labor, to distract himself from that inner chill, that impulse of self-doubt, to prove his worth 

"So how you do help? You take some of the load on, if they'll let you. You make things easier for them wherever you can. Like a person with any other severe medical issue, because that's what depression is, they're exhausted just surviving- let them know, sincerely, that you care. That you're willing to put in the work, because you love them, with no expectation of pay back or recompense. Then they have to do the work of accepting it, letting themselves lean on another person. And use that space and strength you're lending them to help themselves."

There were a few moments of quiet.

"...thanks. that actually really helped."

Your voice was sheepish. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make such a speech about it."

"i’m glad you did. it made a lot more sense than some clinical description online. you're a great teacher, you know that?"

Your voice was warm. "Oh, hush."

Dishes clicked. The TV came on- you and Papyrus began talking about soccer scores. Sans let himself out into the garage, offering a polite shrug to Gaster without looking at the man. "you're the one who taught me- if you don't know something, find an expert."

“She speaks from experience, I think. Her, or someone close to her."

The front doorbell rang eventually- pizza. Gaster slipped in and ate a few slices, picking through the salad you'd helped prepare and watching you and Papyrus play chess. He even waved, hesitantly, when you left after thanking him again and again for fixing your car.

He slept well that night. Seven full hours.

Notes:

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 4: Exposure Therapy

Notes:

The song playing during the livingroom scene is 'Love- Chaos Chaos'

Another week passed. Gaster lazed, spending some time at home, but most of it with his brothers- more than he had in months. Then one of Papyrus's friends, the innkeeper in Snowdin, mentioned to Papyrus that her son wanted to build a computer…which ended up being Gaster building the computer. He couldn't even be cross; the woman had thanked him profusely, and her son had grinned up at him, telling him how excited he was to play video games with his friends.

He accompanied Papyrus and Undyne to a ‘wine and paint’ session Thursday night, which mostly devolved into him sketching the other attendants at the class while the instructor and Undyne carried on like old friends and Papyrus started a room-wide game of hangman.

Friday dawned humid and drizzling, and around noon he heard your laugh from upstairs as he laid out computer parts in the basement den. His brother had a posse of friends over for lunch, and he was oddly relieved to hear your voice among them- he'd been half-afraid that he'd scared you off.

He filtered up once or twice to grab a drink or something to eat- someone had brought a huge fruit salad and subs -but each time he did, you weren't in the house. Feeling disappointed, and not really sure why he was disappointed, he went back to assembling the computer and screwing around online. 

Later in the evening, Gaster found you in a rare moment of solitude. His brothers both had run to the store for charcoal and grill stuff, and the rest of the get together seemingly had dispersed for the night. You were leaning on the counter in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone- he took a step back, then closed the basement door louder, so as not to startle you by walking in. 

Your smile was bright and sincere when he came in. “Oh, hi! I didn't even know you were home!” Faint music filtered in from the living room, making the house feel secluded and private. 

He hesitantly smiled back, fishing a bottle of water out of Papyrus's crammed fridge. “Building A Computer For A Family Friend. It's Slow Going.” Looking you over, he inwardly thought you looked quite pretty today, with your hair up and a soft purple top on. It felt good to see you in ‘his’ color. 

“Oooooh how cool, I only have a crappy laptop. I want a desktop but everyone says you should build one instead of buy one, and that sounds like uh, not something I'm good at.” You grinned ruefully. “I tried to take apart my blender last year, found a video tutorial and all to replace the motor? Didn't go great. I had screws left over that I shouldn't have.”

That made him grin, feeling terribly at ease with you in the moment and relieved that you didn't seem to hold a grudge. “Ah, But Don't You Know? Every Electronic Comes With Spare Parts. You Just Have To Figure Out Which Ones Those Are.” He reached up and grabbed a container of brownie bites off the top of the fridge where Papyrus hid them from Sans, coughing roughly from the raspiness in his throat. He'd woken up with it particularly bad this morning, raw and irritated.

Your face softened. “Is there anything that helps with that?” When he didn't answer for a moment, waiting for his throat to calm down, you winced. “Sorry, not my business, I know. Sorry.”

He didn't like how quick you were to apologize to him, and sat the brownies down to free both hands. “Don't worry about it. It's the remains of a healed injury, quasi-magical and physical both.” He sighed. “...and worse some days than others.”

“That really sucks. I wish I could help.” There was sympathy on your face. “Does anything make it better? Heat? Cold?”

Gaster shrugged, distracted by the half-finished build downstairs and not really thinking about his answer. “Not really. I think the meridians reset wrong when the bone splinters fused back together, might have gotten caught where they shouldn't be.”

“Bone splin…”

He only noticed how bad that sounded and what it implied, when your eyes went wide, your hand coming up to cover your mouth- he swore internally, not usually so forthcoming. Wearing one of Papyrus's band t-shirts, his neck was exposed enough for your eye to flick between it, his skull, and back again. In the bright evening sun coming through the window, he realized you could see the pale, spiderwebbing fracture lines, now hair-thin scars, that covered his cervical vertebrae- they were usually tremendously hard to notice, unless the lightning was absolutely perfect, someone's eye was directed specifically to them, and they stood close enough. Between that and the same very dim shatter scars on his head, as well as the two slightly open cracks around his eyes that had never healed…he knew how it looked, if one had context. 

Your jaw worked; you looked away, then back again, searching fruitlessly for something to say as you visibly struggled to conceal how horrified you were. He offered a half-smile, mollified by your concern.  “It's fine, don't worry about it. I survived.” 

Your voice came out as a cracked whisper. “How?!” You blanched as soon as you said it, turning away fully to stare out the kitchen window. “Fuck, sorry, I shouldn't have said it that way. I'm glad you did. That just, it…it looks…”

“Bad.” The words cracked in the middle as he forced them out. “It Looks Bad. I Know.”

“God no wonder you didn't want me to touch your neck. I didn't hurt you, did I?!” Your concern was palpable as you looked back at him. “I didn't even feel it at all, christ. The…lines, they're completely flat.”

He shook his head, raising his hands. “Like I said, they're old. Five years ago, well, six years as of next month.” He hesitated- you still looked worried. “You didn't hurt me. It…felt good. Almost too gentle, even.”

That earned him a wry smile. “You could have told me. Silly.”

“I was too busy being pissed.” Remembering what had initially led to all of this, he pulled off the plastic lid and offered you a brownie bite. You grabbed a few, and the two of you munched in comfortable silence for a while, before you pointed at the container as it sparkled faintly. “Change of subject, mister science man, can I ask you something?”

He was immensely grateful that you let it go, and the mischief in your expression invited him to his own. “Finally, my true title is recognized. Ask away, student.” 

You snorted. “Oh ancient wise one, when I eat a lot of Monster food, like when I was having lunch and dinner every day in the Capital, weird stuff happens.” You took another bite. “Not to sound like a crazy person, but I start to see like, weird colors around things? Is that normal?”

He pulled down the chips from the cabinet, chuckling. “Ah, the brain damage. I'm afraid there's no cure.”

You smirked. “Mmhmm, and besides the terrible permanent brain damage, as I feel myself losing literacy by the second, what else was happening?” 

“Rapid onset scurvy. Sub-clinical rabies. Eyeball fleas.”

“Alas, I knew it. My time is short. ” You made grabby hands toward the chips, and he gave them over dutifully, suddenly realizing just how grateful he was that you so easily and willingly swapped back and forth into sign for him, just to make him more comfortable. “But come on, for real. None of my teachers were really sure, they just assured me it was a harmless side-effect of being exposed to magic.”

He shrugged. “And they were right, though they could have given more detail. Humans are not incapable of magic, but they are incapable of producing it. When supplemented with raw, unworked magic, like what's found in Monster food and drink, certain humans may be sensitive enough to develop rudimentary arcane senses.” He accepted the chips as you passed them back. “It's An Uncommon Skill. How Interesting. You May Have Been Seeing Auras.”

“Huh. Well…I certainly can't afford to nurture it- don't get me wrong, I understand why Monster food has such a high tariff for humans now, I really do. Papyrus told me about the shortage. But even essence powder is ungodly expensive. And it took a year of meals at the University for it to start really making a difference, that would probably be thousands and thousands of dollars to mimic at home. It was just…kinda cool.” You smiled. “Do you see like that all the time?” 

He nodded, handing you the chips back. “Some of us do, some don't, and it varies on the Monster. Sans cannot at all. Papyrus can, to an almost diagnostic level. He can see the nature of a spell, when it was cast, and even hints as to who cast it and why at just a glance.” He hesitated, not being one to talk about himself, but he defied any man not to brag the tiniest bit when a pretty, bright-eyed girl fixed her attention on him. “My power is more attuned to probability and consciousness- I see Souls, their state and influence, and the immediate ripple effects that actions taken by Souled-beings produce.” 

You snorted. “Okay, Scarlet Witch. Jesus, that's uh, quite the ability. Does it get distracting?”

“Like you wouldn't believe. As a child, our parents had to tell me constantly not to stare. I'd notice someone with a particularly fascinating or morbid near future, and follow them to watch it play out like an absolute little weirdo.”

That made you laugh prettily, the musicality rippling over him. Emboldened, he asked, “Do you know your Soul color?”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “No. There was a whole day for it, but I was sick and missed it. They had a specialist come in and everything, apparently they had to set up a special circle and use powders and some incense or something.”

“Oh…dark blue. Solid through.”

Cocking your head, you motioned for him to join you at the kitchen table. “Wait, I thought that took like, a whole bunch of prep work and ingredients and stuff?”

Suddenly a bit shy, he demurred, sitting down and staring at the chess board that was there. “Ah, Well…Maybe For Them.”

You looked him over for a moment, processing that. Then you reached for the board, setting it up between the two of you. “You, and Papyrus and Sans…you're a lot more…. gifted, than other Monsters.” It wasn't a question.

“In Some Ways, Yes. I Suppose.”

“Huh.” You motioned for him to choose his side- he chose black, as always. “Is there…a specific reason? Do you mind me asking?” 

He shrugged. “Our mother, maybe. Or our nature- there are no other Skeleton Monsters to compare to. Or perhaps some strange, esoteric magical ingredient our father imbibed in his travels. Who can say?”

Your smile was soft. “Dark blue, huh? Wild, that's my favorite color.”

“It Suits You.”

Unseen and unnoticed, Papyrus and Sans stared through the garage door into the kitchen, then at each other with growing grins. 

-

The smell of the grill summoned he and you both outside to the deck- Papyrus grinning from where he tended to the bbq, and Sans lazing in a lounge chair, quietly texting Toriel and Asgore. 

“You guys didn't say you were home!” Sans smiled as you skipped up to his brother, offering him a chip, and waved lazily at Gaster.

“WE DIDN'T WANT TO DISTURB THE TWO BIG BRAIN NERDS PLAYING CHESS!”

Gaster flicked his fingers, leading a tiny rivlet of water from the pool to hit his brother in the side of his head. He only got an offended ‘sniff’ in return, but Sans chuckled as you sat down beside him. 

“you guys still on for next saturday? its firefly's birthday, right?”

“YEAH!”

“...yeah.”

Gaster cocked his head as you hesitated, and Papyrus gave you an oddly sympathetic look. 

Sans turned to face you. “where are you guys gonna go? monster place or human place?” You frowned at that, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you stared up at the evening sky. “No human bars for a while, that's for fucking sure.”

“oh?”

Suddenly crestfallen, you reached over and grabbed a handful of blueberries off the table beside you as Papyrus brought them over. “Yeah! This absolute creep…look, I'm not a coward. If a man acts like a weirdo, I tell him to back off and that's that. But this guy, he was insistent last week- it's trivia month, and we signed up to compete, there's a big prize. So I eventually had to just ignore him. Then apparently he actually started going back there every night, hoping he'd run into me again-” Papyrus made a face at that and you nodded, tossing your hands up “-yeah, thank you! Right? So here's the fucking plot - he sees me one time a week ago, gets turned down very politely, might I add, and then stays at that same bar four pm til close for a WEEK to try and find me again!”

Papyrus nodded. “YEAH. AND WHEN WE TRIED TO BACK HIM OFF THE FIRST TIME, HE GOT ANGRY AS HECK. SAID HE WASN'T TALKING TO US, HE WAS TALKING TO HER.”

“So we see him there AGAIN last night at the trivia competition, being all weird and reticent at the bar, and that's when the waitress told us he was creeping all week, WAITING for me! Jess and I walk over and I tell him, straight to his face, that I'm not interested, he's not my type, and to please leave me alone and stop looking for me.”

“LITERALLY THAT, VERBATIM! YOU COULDN'T HAVE BEEN CLEARER. WE WERE ALL PAYING ATTENTION.”

Sans glanced up to see Gaster listening intently. Fantastic. God he loved it when the universe worked with him- they needed a reason to convince his brother to go along out with you all, and here it was, being hand delivered into his lap. Gaster was already doing so much better, last Monday having shook some genuine fear and alarm through his apathy. He'd sneaked a look at his brother's phone, and found several websites and videos in his history related to depression, recovery, and suicide.

They had to keep that ball rolling.

Meanwhile, there was genuine distress on your face. “You're right, I couldn't have. And Jess was right there with me. So what does he do, in the middle of a room full of people? He reaches out and grabs a piece of my hair!” You touched your scalp, where your hair was drying in pretty waves from the sun. “Grabs it and holds on to it- he tried to use it pull me toward him! It hurt, I grabbed his hand, Jess and I both screamed at him to let go...and he turned to her and smiled.”

Gaster was tapping a single finger sharply on the table before him. 

Sans was both skeeved out- of course he was, it was a disgusting thing to do -but also inwardly a tiny bit delighted. This couldn't have been more perfect if he had planned it like a play- the fact that Gaster was here to listen first-hand was the icing on the ketchup cake. Outwardly, he groaned. “what an absolute fucking creep.”

“YES!!! HE BACKED OFF WHEN I WALKED UP. BUT HE WAS ANGRY ABOUT IT. DIDN'T HE SAY YOU JUST NEEDED SOME ‘CONVINCING’?”

You reached over, grabbing Papyrus's sweater off the table beside you and wrapping it around your chest like a blanket, your voice very small. “Yes. And he yanked my hair before he let go, like a little fucking brat in school.” Your lip curled just the tiniest bit. “It's stupid for me to be so upset, he never would have done anything serious in front of everyone. But it really freaked me out…so yeah. That's why we're changing bars, fuck trivia month. Papyrus says you love Grillby's, Sans. That's where we're going, right?”

Papyrus nodded. “MUCH NICER, YOU'LL LIKE IT. AND IT'S NOT STUPID. HUMAN MEN HURT HUMAN WOMEN ALL THE TIME. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN WORSE IF WE WEREN'T ALL THERE WATCHING.”

Gaster tapped all four fingers once, just once, in rapid succession. One of his rare, outward cues of genuine anger. 

Sans nodded slightly to himself. there you big guy, nice and pissed off. don't you wanna keep her safe from the fucking weirdo? he could show up anywhere, you know.

“you'll enjoy it, don't stress. if he does show up somehow, grillby will light a fire under his ass. literally, like that's not even a pun, the jerk will roast.”

“Okay…” You rubbed your scalp one more time, then sighed and asked Papyrus about his work that week. The conversation moved on to other things, and Sans sat back with satisfaction, noting how his older brother's eye remained quietly on you for a long, long time.

-

Disgusting. Human men had the class of cockroaches.

Gaster fumed, kicking ‘his’ bedroom door shut behind him. It was completely fair to say that he'd been raised ‘old-fashioned’- he didn't think women needed to be chained to the kitchen, but he enjoyed the dynamics of older times in Monster history, a childhood spent seeing his mother lead their clan and family trade while his father merchanted and made alliances for her to leverage. A give and take, a combining of skills- his mother had been a viciously intelligent woman, the most skilled smith and talismanseri that Monsters had ever known. And his father had loved her most for that, for her mind, and the grace of her fey, otherworldly beauty as she worked. Had protected and defended her, knowing always that, should an enemy come at his own back, his strange, incandescent lady would be there to snare the intruder inescapably. 

Gaster liked to protect. To provide. And he knew it was an ironic thing to think- after all, he'd never genuinely pursued a woman before, so who precisely was he applying those to? 

But he also was a slow, careful man. When he'd awoken from the barrier sleep with the rest of Monsterkind, some centuries after their imprisonment, there'd been so much to do. Families to reunite, ashen loved ones to mourn. Homes and cities to build. Food to grow and harvest, schools and stores to open. 

Of course he'd wanted. But he'd never found . 

And call it silly, but he felt a sort of protective instinct as well for academics and researchers. He inherently valued the sharpness of mind and sheer dedication that the field demanded, to choose a thing to care about and learn every possible aspect of it….

In a thoroughly sour mood, he kicked off his clothes and threw himself onto the bed naked, grateful that Monsters, at least, made furniture that was his size without needing to fold himself in half. The sheets were clean, the mattress soft, and he turned his head for a moment to press his face into the pillows. Papyrus, the consummate housekeeper (he had no doubt his brother dreamed, sincerely, of being a house husband- and where was the flaw in that?), always sprayed the pillows with a homemade herbal scent- this time something citrus and spiced. He rubbed the side of his face into them like a lion, yawning so hugely that it shook him from head to toe…and then felt fabric of a different texture catch on his toe as he stretched.

Your soft brown cardigan was still here, draped over the foot board. That's right- Sans’ room was disgusting, and Papyrus was painting his. Of course this was where coats and shoes would end up from their little pre-birthday lunch party.

He nudged the thin fabric up with his toes, and, after a moment of wondering if this was just too weird (probably a little, but who would know?), he grabbed it and folded it around his hands, holding it to his face and inhaling deeply. 

You smelled like sunshine. There was no better way to put it- cotton left to get hot in the sun had such a distinct, sweet smell, one almost all of Monsterkind had either forgotten, or never gotten the chance to know, and somehow your perfume captured it almost perfectly. It was the same that you'd worn at his first appointment, clean and light, and not at all what he was used to. He lived and worked surrounded by sterile fields, cleaning chemicals, and the astringent herbs that assisted with magical workings. 

He breathed in a second time through his mouth, scenting you on the roof of it in a way that would probably creep a human out to no end if they knew he was capable of it. Or maybe not. Papyrus had mentioned earlier in the week that you adored cats. 

The scientist in him found it curious that he could even taste human pheromones; it seemed a rather pointless skill to have had for hundreds of years. But then again, he'd been born shortly before the war, perhaps that was the reason. He didn't know if his brothers could, and couldn't possibly think of a normal way to ask the question. 

It was fascinating though. Something that couldn't be fully put into words; a taste-sense that was magical as much as biological. You were inherently feminine and clean, patient-hearted, with a slight, recent fearfulness that clung like a sour note on the back of his tongue- courtesy of the man at the bar, no doubt. 

He shivered, feeling strangely sensitized and tired. The sheets were cool, the air conditioning chilling them to the point that he squirmed until he could yank the comforter up and over his body, burrowing down into its heavy darkness. 

Hiding his face under the blanket, he reached up and pulled a pillow under too, just to have something to hug to his chest. 

And there, still holding your cardigan to his face and cuddling the pillow, Gaster fell deeply asleep.

He dreamed of warmth, and a voice that murmured something kind, and someone who traced the features of his face with cool, gentle hands. 

-

“I NEED TO ASK YOU A FAVOR.”

“Hm?”

It was the next weekend, Saturday, and Papyrus was over for breakfast. Gaster's Glories all swam toward the other Skeleton, eager to alight on his fingertips as he smiled down at them.

“I KNOW IT'S NOT YOUR USUAL THING. CALL ME PARANOID-”

“You Are, Brother Dearest”

“-ALSO SHUT UP, CALL ME PARANOID, BUT I GOT A VERY WEIRD FEELING LAST FRIDAY NIGHT. YOU HEARD HER STORY. I DIDN’T WANT TO MAKE THINGS WORSE FOR HER BY BRINGING IT UP…BUT THAT ASSHOLE DIDN'T HAVE GOOD INTENTIONS. AT ALL. LIKE…AT ALL. I COULD FEEL IT.”

Gaster cocked a brow at him, flipping pancakes. “What Would You Like Me To Do About That? Kill Him? Messy, But Not Impossible.” 

The week had left him feeling…odd. Work was going concerningly smoothly; the new plants were taking to his protocol so well that he'd spent the week in constant, agonizing anxiety, waiting for the other foot to drop- something had to go terribly wrong. It always did. 

But then Thursday night, a delivery had come for him at the Mountain gap research center. It was, at first glance, a rather odd pairing. A lovely glass terrarium, full of surface mosses and tiny plants and stones, and a large bakery box of brownie bites with a card attached.

Sincerest good luck. 

Don't work yourself to the bone. (Sans is a brain tumor, he's worming his way in. My humor is fading fast. Soon, I'll resort to slapstick. Send help.)

And then your name, signed prettily. 

Bemused, and a bit touched, he'd gone into storage and fished around for a spare little grow lamp to affix to the shelf next to the terrarium in his office.

Now, Papyrus gave him a wry look. “IF YOU'D FELT WHAT I HAD, YOU WOULDN'T BE AS JOKING ABOUT THAT AS YOU ARE. HE WANTED TO HURT HER. TO PUNISH HER FOR REFUSING HIM.”

Gaster sneered. “Little Freak.”

His brother finished capping the strawberries he was working on. “FOR REAL. BUT THE POINT OF ALL OF THIS IS…COME WITH US.”

Gaster opened his mouth, but Papyrus held a hand up. “SOME OF THE RESEARCH STAFF WILL BE THERE, CELEBRATING LITTLE VICTORIES. BUT ALSO, I JUST HAVE…I DON'T KNOW, A FEELING. I'D LIKE SOMEONE ELSE THERE WHO HAS THE SAME SENSES AS ME. JUST IN CASE, JUST FOR THIS WEEK. YOU HAVEN'T BEEN TO THE NEW GRILLBY'S YET, IT'S GREAT! HE HAS A NICE PATIO WITH FIRES ON IT, AND SOME QUIETER SIDE ROOMS THAT WE'RE PROBABLY GONNA MOVE TO.”

Gaster grumbled in his throat, but caught sight of his phone out of the corner of his eye. What had he read, just that morning?

‘Self-isolation is a trick anxiety and depression play on us, to continue the cycle of rumination. Time spent around other people, even if you're just a passive participant, is proven to be healthy for the brain and body.’

“...I'm Not Very Entertaining, Socially.”

“YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE. ALPHYS WILL BE THERE, SHE AND A FEW OTHERS USUALLY SPLIT OFF TO PLAY CARDS.” He rattled off a few names, yours included. “THEY'RE NOT BIG TALKERS OR DANCERS. THEY JUST LIKE THE FOOD AND THE ATMOSPHERE.”

Well…that was a little better, at least. And if the eternally shy Alphys was there…

“Okay. I Can't Promise I'll Stay All Night. But I'll Come For A While.”

“THANKS!” He began slicing the strawberries. “I APPRECIATE YOU.”

-

Papyrus said to meet at your place that evening- everyone but him was carpooling, and his brother wanted to introduce him to a few people he didn't know. Gaster walked around back, admiring your gardens in the early-evening light while he let himself through the gate. As the back porch came into view he found Papyrus, and two women he didn't recognize, one Monster and one human, all trying to look very casual and polite compared to the absolute screaming match coming from within the house. A man's voice, trying to argue but being immediately overrun by yours again and again. 

Gaster tried to ask what the hell was going on, but the human woman shushed him, nudging his side with a casually-friendly attitude he hadn't experienced in a long time. “Hush!” she whispered grinning up at him as she did. Her hair and skin were both dark, her lips brightly painted and full of mischief. “Don't interrupt!”

Even Papyrus looked guiltily entertained, his chin propped in his hand as he stared out at the garden. When Gaster cocked a brow at him, he used one hand to finger spell, “Brother came to visit.”

Ah. Nothing like the comfort and love of family.

Their voices came closer in the house, close enough for Gaster to make out what you were saying. “-a jerk! Nothing from you, not a word for a year Zeke, a YEAR, and now you show up? All because you wanted MONEY?!”

Something crashed in the house, followed by the suddenly, unmistakably reasonable and friendly tones of a man trying to talk down a woman who had reached terminal bullshit tolerance. Gaster snorted- he could have told him how well that would go. 

Another crash confirmed his experience.

The other woman, a lovely Copper-Sprite, was less amused. She was texting something to Papyrus, who gave her a vaguely concerned look and texted back. Gaster glanced over, sharpening his eyesight enough to see “-he's a jerk. She was upset about it all week, crying because he wouldn't talk to her til now.” on his phone

Yikes.

Finally, a young man came bursting out onto the porch, looking disheveled and undeniably related to you. He glanced around at the little gathering, muttered, “And a good day to all of you”, and left, jogging over to a beaten-up car and pulling away quickly. 

You came stomping out ten or so minutes later, slamming the sliding door open as you blindly texted someone and scrubbed a hand across your face roughly. Your eyes were red-rimmed and sad, and that pinched him- the other three twits around him only sat staring at each other and you, unsure what to say. Even the human woman beside him had lost her mirth as she read something quickly on her phone, doubtless the same thing Papyrus had gotten from the Copper-Sprite. 

Papyrus cleared his throat and your head jerked up, seeing their side of the crowded porch as you realized the audience you'd had for the whole thing. 

Your lip started to tremble the tiniest bit.

Gaster weighed his options, then settled for the easiest- he burst out laughing at the horrified look of embarrassment on your face. 

“Screw you!” you signed, glaring at him as you blushed from your cheeks to your tits, almost visible in your low-cut little dress. He shrugged- you were already perking back up a little, sadness turning to irritation at him, just as he'd planned. “Ah, but with such entertainment? Never! What a performance, will there be an encore?”

There was a sharpness to your eye that excited him in some distant way, the feeling trying to swim up through miles of cold, dark waters. “You're acting like an asshole. Why are you even on my property?!”

“To witness such a quintessential family reunion, of course. And enjoy the dulcet tones of feminine love. Are you aware your neighbors a zip code over could hear you?”

“Fuck. Off. God, you're being a real jerk right now.” Some color had started to come back into your face. He grinned hugely- this was fun. “Alas, I'm not even here of my own free will. Papyrus has dragged me by my scruff, only to be exposed to the trauma of such aggressive verbal abuse. I may never recover from seeing such a terrible part of you.”

“Suck me. The only good part of you dripped down your mother’s leg. ”

That shocked him enough to still his hands for a moment, pure delight at the viscousness of your reply popping and sizzling at the base of his skull while it mixed with that other, deeper sensation as it finally clawed its way to the surface. 

Arousal. You were fantastically attractive in this moment, spitting and hissing like a cat, and it made him feel cock-sure and mischievous.

Your woman friend piped up then, catching on to what he was up to. “Quit flirting, both of you- you're too pretty for it, I'll faint dead away. Forget Zeke for now, he's a shit. Are you coming out for drinks or not?” She stood up, stretching. “Apparently Pap had to scrape this one off the bottom of a ship or something, so it's a momentous occasion within itself.” Gaster was so entertained by the whole situation that he couldn't even be offended at her words- what was so bad about the humble barnacle, anyway?

You growled, actually growled in your throat, and stared off into the woods. The woman grinned, wheedling. “Come oooooon, you're all good and pissed off anyway. Let's go out, so you can get even more pissed off.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “It's a Monster baaaaaaar, you never know! Mister tall, dark, and five-thousand-centipedes-in-a-trenchcoat could be there, waiting for his perfect lover!”

That made you snort, smiling despite your sadness and irritation. “Shut up, good god.” Scrubbing your hand over your face, you shook your head, then sighed. “Fine. Jesus. Let me get my shit.”

As you turned to walk away, Gaster couldn't help himself. He murmured, “That's Missus Five-Thousand-Centipedes-In-A-Trenchcoat To You. They Called A Meeting And Everything. Held A Formal Vote.” 

As Papyrus turned in astonished wonder at his brother having made a joke and the two women on the porch laughed, Gaster watched as you glanced over your shoulder, rolled your eyes at him with a smirk, and continued back into the house. 

You held a hand behind your back as you walked.

“How progressive.” 

Notes:

Does anybody else's family do this? When you have a bunch of people over, the neatest person's bedroom turns into the coat and shoe room?

Or was that just a ‘my family'-thing?

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 5: Therapeutic Dance

Notes:

The song in the car is 'Solar- Lorde'

“GASTER IS COMING TONIGHT. JUST IN CASE.”

“HIS FAVORITE COLOR IS PURPLE YA KNOW IF YOU WONDERED AND ALL. SO IS HIS MAGIC.”

“NO REASON.”

Quickly fixing your hair in the mirror, you smirked at Papyus' messages. He was being a very good brother. Better than fucking Zeke, oh just the thought of him made you furious…

No. Tonight would be a good night. It was Firefly's birthday, Gaster would be there, your friends were all going to be there, it would be a good fucking night. 

You'd make it be. 

And you did have that plum-colored dress from a few months ago, one you'd never worn before…before you lost your nerve you swapped into it, putting on some perfume and trotting back outside as you stuffed your wallet into a smaller purse.

A few more people had arrived in the last few minutes; Papyrus steered you toward Gaster the moment you came outside. “GO RIDE WITH HIM, FIREFLY AND JESSICA ARE BEING SHITS AND WON'T LISTEN TO THE SAME MUSIC SO THE CARPOOL GOT ALL MESSED UP.”

Grinning, you glanced up at him. “My oh my Papyrus, that's a fifty-cent swear right there! I'm telling Sans!” Then you turned to Gaster who looked terribly bemused by the whole situation, his eye tracing your dress as he leaned his hip back against a patio chair. “The last manual I rode in, I think I literally got whiplash. Please tell me you're better.”

He snorted, pushing off the chair and walking toward your side gate. “Of Course I Am.”

You followed him, feeling oddly fancy- the two of you looked good together, him still in a black dress shirt and pressed slacks from work, you in your dark plum dress, walking toward a car that was far fancier than anyone's here except Papyrus…but the man had a fucking scarlet red Porsche convertible for God's sake, that was to be expected. Then you reached the gravel of your driveway, and he paused to casually tuck his arm under yours so you didn't wobble in your heels, and it felt like you might just melt on the spot. Where did they grow men like this, still? You liked this vintage model, all full of excellent manners (when he was on best behavior) and an absolutely delicious cologne. 

It was different from his usual, you realized. Spicier and darker, incredibly simple and robust in scent. You breathed it in again as he- dear lord above -opened the passenger side door for you and gave you his hand to help you in, the car already running and the AC on. It wasn't even a big deal for him, he was talking over his shoulder to Papyrus while he did! Damned if you caught a single word they were saying though, too busy drifting in expensive-wealthy-fancy-man-land. 

It was so oddly freeing, this tiny moment of having someone else lead you carefully, directing you where to go and what to do and knowing that he could be trusted to do so. And it was startling to realize that you did trust him, for all that you'd known him less than a month. He was a careful, intelligent person, and an absolute paragon of his people- a sneaky little internet and Monsternet search the night before had shown nary a single scandal attached to his name, no criminality or even mischief. Just an amazingly well-awarded man who his people quietly turned to again and again when they needed a miracle worked. 

Dabbing away an errant little spot of mascara in the visor mirror, you shook your head at yourself- it was safe to do, because of course his windows were tinted mirror black…

You had a crush. As old as you were, accomplished in your field and successful independently in life…you had the most severe case of IWantThatManophilioma that had ever been diagnosed, and the cure was currently five feet away, flicking his baby brother on the head for something he said.

Feeling a bit sly, you turned and lightly rubbed the inside of your perfumed wrist on the leather side of the driver’s headrest- something to remember you by. 

Gaster got in a few minutes later, and immediately proved himself right- you literally couldn't feel him shift, so smooth and subtle was he with it. You gazed out the window, catching him looking over at you in the reflection more than once; feeling a bit mischievous, you shifted, crossing your leg to make your hem ride up just a bit on your thigh. This was a man who needed a bit of harassment in his life, and you were more than willing to provide. 

---

Gaster was going to rear-end someone if he didn't keep his eyes on the fucking road. Your hair was lovely, pinned up and perfect for some man to come along and royally mess it up- he rubbed his fingertips together, like he seemed to so often around you, to try and itch the urge to touch you out of them. Your makeup was tasteful, accentuating your eyes and lips, with a shimmer applied to your collarbones that drew his eye like a magnet each time a passing set of headlights made it glimmer. Some human singer on the radio was crooning, her voice deep and lovely-

Come on and let the bliss begin…

Blink three times when you feel it kicking in

-oh yes, he certainly did feel it kicking in. Something about you was crazy-making; he swore he could even catch a waft of your perfume every once in a while, tickling across his senses like a soft hand. Thankfully you weren't in a chatty mood, for he was horribly distracted as it was. Then you crossed your leg, your dress riding up tight on your thigh to show a hint of goosebumps where the AC ran over you, and Gaster had to bite the inside of his cheek to make himself behave. It would be so easy to reach over, putting a hand on your thigh just for the relief of touch he knew was there; but he remembered that night with your car, how nervous you'd looked under his gaze…perhaps he was reading you wrong. He thought you might be interested, but…

Grillby's came into view, thank God, for he was developing a headache from half-consciously grinding his teeth. Then came the enjoyment of your surprised, delighted expression when he opened your door for you- if only human men realized how many brownie points they could win with these tiny gestures. Plus, didn't it feel good to have a woman gaze up at you all excited and happy that you gave a shit about her?

Your friend- Jessica, Papyrus had said in his quick run down on who was who outside the car, the woman who'd first nudged him on the porch, came bouncing over. “Finally! I'm so excited let's go! They have magic DRINKS!”

He noticed a familiar sight across the parking lot- Alphys was getting out of a small sedan, along with a few other research staff. She waved to him, smiling, then turned to say something to the others with her. Then the rest of your group arrived in Papyrus and another’s cars, and the excitement was palpable. The Coppersprite, Firefly, had at some point on the ride over been crowned by an ugly, cheap tiara and banner that both said “BIRTHDAY GIRL” in rhinestones, and was giggling madly at something Papyrus said. 

You started toward Jessica, then hesitated, looking back at Gaster. He smiled at you- it was admirable that you always looked back, always made sure you weren't leaving people behind. “Go Ahead, Everything Will Be Fine. Introduce Yourself To Grillby, You’ll Know Him When You See Him. Say You Came With Us.”

Jessica gave him a thumbs up. “Got it, thank you!” She towed you in, followed by most of the rest of the group, including Papyrus. Alphys wandered over along with Eddie; wordlessly, she handed him a cigarette, knowing he smoked but refused to buy them himself. Then things were quiet for a few minutes, the three heads of their respective departments enjoying the night air and the company of each other. 

Alphys, unusually, was the first to speak up. “I-its’s nice to see you out. For a change.”

Gaster nodded. “Mostly To Play Guard Dog.” He took a deep draw. “God I Needed This.” 

Eddie flicked the ash off his cigarette, chuckling. “The worst kept secret in the department- Director Gaster’s mooching habit.”

He shrugged, grinning. “C’est La Vie.”

Papyrus texted him then- “THE GIRLS ARE DANCING TO SOME SILLY HUMAN SONG AND DOING SHOTS, YOU SHOULD COME SEE.”

He smirked. “Come On Doctor, The Pretty Girls Are Getting Drunk And Dancing. Your Time Has Come.” That made Alphys laugh. “Well th-then, s-say no more!”  

They got in at the tail-end of it, a line dance of some kind that you, Jessica, and one of the other Monsters, Pita, were all trying to lead Firefly in, giggling as she tried to keep from spilling the shot she had in her hand. Alphys snorted beside him. “That girl is g-gonna be f-fucking sloshed by the end of the n-n-night.” She rolled her shoulders. “I’m gonna go grab a corner table. P-papyrus’s friend, the one you drove, ch-cheats at c-c-cards- if you come play with us, be p-prepared for it. She's a menace.” 

Gaster laughed- so did he. “Got It.”

She wandered off with Eddie in tow, her light blue dress complimenting her mustard scales prettily, and Gaster searched the room until he found Papyrus talking to the DJ, and the rest of your group on the opposite of the room claiming the tables furthest from the speakers, halfway between the entrance and the bar. Alphys had settled at a table near them and was ordering something from the waitress- you joined her, doing the same as Gaster meandered over. 

“I got appetizers for the table!” you called, a little out of breath as he approached. He nodded, settling down with you and watching as you poked your drink, the magic within making the dark green liquid sparkle each time it moved. Papyrus was chatting with a human who'd come with them- Gaster didn't remember his name -and Jessica soon filtered over to the table as well, Firefly following her but leaving again with a giggle as Alphys got up to dance. 

It was a nice time, he realized. Not overly stressful, nor painfully loud and socially stifling. A great majority of that was thanks to you; you were a butterfly at a place like this, ordering food and pitchers of water and soda for everyone, introducing people to each other, and occasionally turning to him, visually checking in. Your care warmed him; he was just finishing something delicious and cinnamon flavored, and your attention made his belly flip each time you leaned in to murmur something sarcastic in his ear about another bar patron, or poured him a refill of water. 

Everyone else had filtered away, and Jessica and you had just started a game of ‘shot-go-fish’ after Gaster confirmed he, at least, didn't plan on getting absolutely slammed drunk, when you went very still, your brows furrowing.

“Wait…” you leaned to the side, looking past him as your eyes got wide, and then scared. “What the fuck, how?! How is he here?!”

Gaster glanced back and saw what you did- three human men coming in to the front door, one dark haired and pale in front very visibly scanning the wide main room, and the two behind him looking nervous and out of place. He narrowed his eyes, refocusing his magical sight to the aetheric level- the room faded to black, with faint points of color or bright white marking Souls as their keepers walked, talked, drank and ate. The two men behind seemed decent enough, one a bright orange Soul with a ring of yellow, the other a pale green, still true-colored and whole. But the one in front was a deep, cracked, and ugly maroon-red with a tinge of darkness around the edge; Determination twisted to compulsiveness and stubbornness. 

Gaster understood immediately what Papyrus had distrusted. 

He stood, putting his back in the man's line of sight as he turned to your friend. “Get Her Somewhere Else. I'll Take Care Of This.”

To his immense amusement, the woman's brow quirked as she bit her lip, looking him up and down. “Oh yes sir. Come on chicky, let's go find a nice corner to enjoy.” She pulled you to your feet, putting her arm around your shoulders as she led you back and around the room, toward the hallway with the more private tables. It touched him to see you glance back at him with concern, unneeded as it was.

The two men were easy- Gaster took a deep breath, steadying himself as he fell into his magic, and reached out arcanely. He tweaked the threads of potential around them; they already were off-balance, and unsure of what their friend was trying to do here. One was particularly thirsty from the drive over- it barely took a nudge to split him off toward the bar, where Grillby was a fascination even for Monsterkind. The red-Souled man in front didn't even notice his friend whisper something to the third human and walk away, so focused was his eye on the room. 

The second was harder- too much Bravery in him to use discomfort or awkwardness. But then his roving eye fell on a pretty Monster girl, a sly, scantily-clad Lamb with her wool poofed out plushly around her chest and waist, and it was easier than breathing to direct him her way. 

That left the third, their little leader. Gaster switched the side of the table he sat on, moving the women's drinks to another nearby so it looked like he sat alone. And then he watched, crossing his leg and hanging his arm over the back of the chair, waiting. He let the human stew, getting progressively more uncomfortable as he looked around at the varied crowd- many Monsters felt his predatory intention and subconsciously moved away from him, the waters of the crowd parting like schools of fish around a shark, and that added to his unhappiness. Every time his attention strayed to looking for his friends, Gaster pushed it away again, turning his eye back to scanning the room for a woman he wouldn't find. He wanted him frustrated, over-eager, and anxious. 

The man slowly filtered in, trying to look casual, until he passed near Gaster's table. 

“Looking For Someone?”

The human glanced over at him. “Yeah, actually.” He described you, licking his lips anxiously. “Seen her?

Gaster leaned back in his chair, smiling cruelly. "She Came With Us. Why Don't You Take A Seat? She'll Be Back In A Minute."

The man blinked, and it only took the tiniest nudge of probabilities for him to lurch forward and sit down, the chair clattering noisily as he overbalanced it for a second, putting his elbows up on the thin table as he nodded.

"Yeah? She's been acting all frigid, but she's just that type, I can tell, you know?" He snapped his fingers at a waitress, who narrowed her eyes before coming over. "Maybe you can get me an 'in'."

The woman clicked her tongue when she got to their table. "Alright sure you can just call me like that, fine." Her voice was flat. "What do you want?"

"You get paid either way. Gimme a pint of the Citrus 45, and...?" He motioned to Gaster.

"A Triple Choke Mint, Neat. Thank You."

She nodded, turning to walk back toward the bar. The man watched her go, his eye glued to her body. Then he turned back with a smirk. "You know, you sure are a sight to look at. It's freaky, but hey, I'm not God. Not my place to judge."

Then why bring it up, asshole? "And I Can't Imagine What All That Skin And Hair Must Feel Like. So Greasy."

He laughed in reply, but it was overloud and false- just that tiny bit of ribbing was enough to make the moron lose his temper.

"Ha, I like that! Yeah, we're greasy, and you're fucking dead. I think we came out on top there."

Gaster's smile didn't waver. "Seems Reasonable." And then he didn't say anything further, watching as the man glanced around, crossing his leg and uncrossing it, fidgeting almost immediately in the uncomfortable silence. It was less than a minute before he leaned in, his face overeager and sneaky. "So, how do you know her?"

"A Friend Of A Friend. You?"

He rolled his eyes. "She played hard to get over at Hub, on Fifth and Water. That guy over there, part of your group? Yeah, he's my cousin." He pointed at a human male across the room, one they'd met up with, currently chatting with Papyrus. "Said she'd be here tonight if I wanted to shoot my shot again."

Interesting. Well that explains how he knew.

"Never been in a place like this before. No two of you look the same, huh? All sorts of crazy shit in here."

"Not Generally." Gaster could play this game all day. He hated small talk anyway, and every short, closed answer made the man more and more uncomfortable. This time, he got his phone out and texted someone for a few minutes until their drinks arrived. Then he gulped his beer, a few drops escaping onto his shirt as he downed a quarter of it in one go, while Gaster took a sip of his drink. It was strong and pungent. Perfect. 

Finally, the man resurfaced. "Ugh, there we go! I needed that. It's not even bad, wasn't sure if you'd all know how to make a proper beer or not. Can't really grow anything under a mountain, huh?"

The Skeleton fiddled with his glass. "Can't We?"

"How? No sun!" He laughed, as if he'd told a funny joke, and sat his drink down. "Nah but for real, tell me about the bitch. What do I gotta do? What does she like?"

Gaster smiled and took a second sip, taking his time to enjoy the flavor before sitting the drink back down. 

Then he flicked his wrist hard and tweaked reality to ensure his success, sending the almost full, heavy highball glass flying across the table to smash into the tall pint, both drinks soaking the man from collarbone to crotch in booze as he jumped to his feet, his lap covered in broken glass.

"What the fuck?! Are you fucking-"

"She Likes Decent Men. Ones That Don't Touch Her Without Her Permission." He stood up and leaned his fists on the table, looming over the sputtering human. "So Why Don't You Fuck Off? Before I Tell The Owner That We've Got An Asshole Who Likes To Put His Hands On Women?" He moved in closer, using his height to get a foot away from the man. "Or Maybe I'll Take Care Of It Myself?"

Gaster almost felt sorry for the idiot- it was plain he didn't spend much time around Monsters, and shadows did...interesting things around and on Gaster when he was angry. And he was angry. Who was this little cunt, to call you a bitch?

The man cast his eye around, but the two other humans he'd come with weren't in sight. He was alone, and scared. "Fuck, what, she yours or something?"

Instead of answering that question, Gaster just smiled cruelly. "Don't Get Pulled Over. Would Hate If A Cop Smelled You Right Now." 

He put his face inches from the other's, his voice soft and dangerous. "Get The Fuck Out. Come Near Her Again, And I'll Find Out. Trust Me. Then We'll Have Another Talk."

The man didn't even say a word. Just grabbed his phone, took a last look at Gaster and the room, and walked away fast, headed toward the front door. 

Gaster sent a quick text to Papyrus. "The guy you're talking to is fuckhead's cousin, he told him she'd be here tonight."  Then he sat back, smiling viciously as his brother rounded on the human with a furious look.

After a few minutes, the waitress came by with a second drink, a bemused expression on her face as she looked over the mess across from him.

He handed her a fifty. "For Your Trouble." That earned him a vicious grin as she tucked it away, moving to the next table.

---

Watching from around the corner, you were speechless.  

"Look if you don't want him, I do. That was hot as hell." Jessica's voice was an awed murmur in your ear. "Holy shit."  

Papyrus had said Gaster would 'take care of it'...you'd expected some words, maybe even some yelling and posturing from the freak getting pissed off at the composed Skeleton. 

You didn't expect his eye to change, reflecting a deep, impossible color you didn't yet have a name for as he'd directed you to walk away. You didn't expect him to sit back, watching the room like a predator, and then to make an absolute fool of the man, sputtering and dripping with alcohol.

You didn't expect the creep to turn tail and run as Gaster threatened him in the most dominant, masculine way imaginable, his words so soft you couldn't even make out what he'd said. The way he'd stood, absolutely looming...

You felt literally weak in the knees, bizarrely turned on. Were you ovulating or something, what was this? First that soft playfulness at the brother's house last week, where he'd trounced you neatly at chess. Now this cold, threatening aura, leveraged at the asshole who'd hurt you.

He was such a strange, strange man. So many layers to fascinate, so many hard edges that seemed to soften more and more around you. 

"Yo. Earth to princess, your knight just saved you. Go give him your number before I pay the DJ to make an announcement about how hot you thought that was. Because we both know it was amazing. And he did it for you. No one else."

Gaster stood up, taking his drink and wandering over to the opposite side of the room, where large open arches led out onto the relatively quieter patio. 

Jessica shoved you. "Go! Now! Right now!"

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek anxiously. "I...what if he isn't interested?" 

She barked out a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Are you fucking serious? He's watched you this whole time." She fixed a frizz of hair on your head, smoothing it. "When we were sitting all together? He didn't look away for a second. Now go, make his night- doesn't he deserve a reward for being all hot and brave for you?"

That made you giggle nervously. "Christ...alright. Alright. I just...we didn't start out so well."

She smacked your arm. "But from everything you've said, you two have been great ever since. He's just a lil'bit prickly, it's fine, trim them thorns.” She shoved you again. “That was the most romantic thing I've ever seen, go, go!”

Giggling faintly, you stumbled away from her, righting yourself as you crossed the room. 

The press of noise was lessened out here, a few firepits crackling and throwing off light, but interestingly no heat. Gaster was standing at the far one, staring down into it as he sipped his drink- you paused for a moment, admiring the line of his silhouette in the firelight. His rolled sleeves, his pressed slacks; how could such a foreign, inhuman looking person be so damned handsome?

The patio was otherwise empty for the moment, most of the other bar patrons not wanting to be out in the late evening warmth. You hesitated, then took a deep breath of courage and walked over to him. 

He must have heard your heels click on the flagstone. When he turned, what you saw made you pause, for it was clearer here than it had been in the brighter light inside; his usually sharp, white eyelight was, for lack of better terms, supernaturally ultraviolet. A tiny will-o-wisp, a witchlight pinprick of un-light, strange and fey, that faintly glowed from inside and through his skull in a way you could only describe as beautiful. 

Gaster looked at you, his eye falling to your chest for a moment before he blinked rapidly, the light fading back to his normal sharp white. A bit dazzled, you smiled up at him, and were delighted to see that laser-like light soften, diffusing in a visual expression of his liking of you. 

And you realized with a shock of excitement that he did like you, even though it was a bit intimidating to consider. You didn't think he could fake that part of his expression, nor would most anyone go to the extent he had for you moments ago, using his physicality and power of personality to drive away a man who'd scared you. 

You cocked your head, nodding toward the faintly glimmering green drink in his hand. “What is that? Besides a delightful new cologne for an asshole.”

Gaster smirked, clearing his throat- he'd done an awful lot of talking tonight. “Choke Mint. A Rather Vicious Herb, But Delicious When Infused.” He hesitated for just a second, then offered his glass to you to try. 

Your belly flipped over, something warm and tingling spreading through your chest at the intimate little gesture. Oh this was dangerous, this fey, intelligent man dropping a layer of armor and letting you in a bit closer to him. You weren't positive if he was just seeking friendship or something more…but the way he tracked your lips as you sipped his drink was telling. It had been so long since you'd felt like this, shivery and excitable with attention.

You handed his drink back. “Thank you. Really. In there, that was…” He smiled, and you found the word you were looking for. “Noble. Of you.”

He waved the compliment away, half turning back to the fire, angling his body in a silent invitation for you to join him. “He Had Poor Intentions. I Don't Say That To Upset You Further, Only To Warn You.” Huffing out a disgusted breath, you shook your head in annoyance. The fire before you was faintly changing color, tiny licks of purple and now, dark blue flame, joining the orange. “Look at that.”

He nodded, watching the flames. “Grillby Is An Incredible Elementalist.” 

The two of you were quiet for a time, comfortable just standing next to each other, though you eventually sat on the patio wall across from him to save your feet. Unsure how he'd take the question, you bit your lip, then looked up at him. “How goes everything at work? I know things are…really hard.”

He sighed, stepping around the fire to come near you and set his glass down. Where you'd had to hop to reach the top of the wall, he had to sit down onto it. “Well. Too well. I worry what will go wrong.” His face fell, dark and troubled. “Something always does.”

Broadcasting the movement, you put your hand on his bare forearm. Unlike the first time you'd touched him, his magic wasn't defensive and angry, twinging against your fingertips. Instead, there was just warmth, a feeling of someone a bit strange in nature, but most definitely alive. “Crises will always come and go. We just prepare for them as best we can, and hope that it's enough.” You squeezed his arm “I cannot imagine the stress you're under, Gaster.”

He signed gently enough that it didn't dislodge your grip. “All of them depend on me. Another little apocalypse, dumped in my lap. The third in my lifetime.

There was little you could say to that. The grief was old and brittle under his words. Then, shockingly, a large, delicate hand closed over yours. Seeking and accepting the comfort you were offering.

It was now or never. “I can't help you with it, not exactly my area of expertise. But…if you just want to talk, just to vent about shit…” You reached in your pocket, pulling out a napkin from the bar that you'd scribbled your number on at Jessica's urging earlier. “Or, you know, to make fun of Sans’ hideous croc collection, I don't know where the hell he keeps finding them.”

The sweetest series of expressions ran over Gaster’s face- surprise, interest, excitement, and then a shyness as intrinsic and hidden as the loveliness of his voice. “Oh…Thank You.” He took it, folding the paper one handed and tucking it into his breast pocket, not quite able to keep the smile off his face. “They Really Are Disgustingly Ugly. And I Can't Figure Out Where He Gets Them, I've Never Found The Patterns Online Or In Stores.”

You giggled, relieved that he'd taken your number and giddy that he looked so happy to have gotten it. “Pap and I think he buys them custom, from some hideous, screenprinting swamp hag or something. Have you seen the shit-green and mauve ones? He bought fucking rainbow rhinestone charms for them, they're an inch across.”

Gaster shuddered. “Christ. No, I Haven't Seen Them Yet. Horrifying.” He laced his fingers in with yours, and you swore you were smiling like an addled fool. “Thank You…For The Offer.” He sighed. “I'm Not So Good At Talking About Myself. But I Should.”

Feeling weightless with the thrill of the moment, you leaned your head over until it rested on his arm. “I'm here to listen if you want to.”

And then you both fell quiet, at peace in the moment as the fire crackles and cicadas sang in the trees of the neighborhood. His cologne surrounded you, as subtle as it's wearer; you tried to be sneaky as you turned your face into his shoulder to breathe it in. Glancing up, you saw him just as his eyes flicked back to the fire, a wide smile on his face, and realized you'd been caught…but couldn't really be bothered to care. 

“You Look Beautiful Tonight.” He couldn't bring himself to look at you to say it, but the feeling of the words rumbling in his chest through his arm more than made up for it- you felt close to bursting with the feeling in your chest. “And I Can't Believe That's Comfortable.” He wiggled his boney shoulder slightly.

You shrugged. “I know what to expect. It's worth it.” Shyly smoothing your hand over your dress, you added, feeling terribly exposed and earnest but wanting to reward his honesty with your own, “I wore this for you. Pap said your magic is purple…but I don't think they can make a dress the right color, now that I've seen it.”

He pulled you a tiny bit closer by the hand, pressing your arms together. “Oh...Well It's Lovely Either Way.” Then he turned your hand over and brought the back of it up to his lips, pressing a kiss there so faint that it was more of a breath than a touch; a courtier's kiss, modernized. 

This poor man, you thought with growing realization. He's so full of affection. He wants to touch, and hold…but had nowhere to put it before.

And now he does. 

You giggled softly, leaning your legs into him a bit so your knees touched. 

-

Inside, Grillby whispered to a small crowd of listeners, including the youngest Skeleton brother, Alphys, Eddie, and Jessica, “He's holding her hand…”

“...and he's happy.”

Notes:

:3 eeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEE

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 6: Guided Intimate Connection

Notes:

*Through my gritted teeth*
A. slow. and. romantic. courtship…a. realistic. exploration.  of. love. between. two. adults…

 

*all of the erotica snippets and smut scenes in my notes app, wailing and howling at the gate*
Let us in!! LET US INNNNNNNN!!!

 

This is a long one folks! TW in later parts: Realistic discussion of suicide, effects of suicide

The song playing in the brothers’ hallway: ‘Sunday Love- Bat For Lashes’

The song playing in Gaster's kitchen: ‘Free- Florence and the Machine

Time passed in a blur of newness. His brothers said nary a word, but everyone in his life must have noticed the change. Anger and irritation slowly faded to what they'd originally been; passion and urging. Many of his coworkers and employees weren't quite sure what to make of this new Gaster, one who cajoled and demanded and pressed everyone forward, eager to see what they could accomplish rather than struggling to stay afloat above it. Those who had been around for a decade or longer only smiled at the new people when they complained, for this was closer to the man they'd originally known and been inspired by, years ago. 

Were things all fixed, tidily cured? Of course not. As weeks passed, Sans would find him pacing in his office for hours on end, or falling back into working until three, four in the morning…and worst of all, not sleeping again.

The difference now? With only a minimal level of bitchiness and scathing remarks, Gaster would let people help him. Not most, or even many people, no. Most still were lashed by his sharp, cutting tongue. But he'd eat it if Eddie brought him a sandwich. If Sans came in and casually said, “gettin’ pretty late bro, wanna come home and regroup for tomorrow?”, he'd begrudgingly go along. If his mood was particularly foul, and someone was picking at his very last nerve with their fingernails, a few choice, trusted employees could say something like, “Oh this is ridiculous. You don't have to deal with this sir, let me handle them”, and Gaster would, as painfully as pulling teeth, make himself have enough faith IN those employees to hand the crisis over and walk away. Even if it sometimes left him privately sick with anxiety in his office, unable to do anything but hold his head and stare at the ground…his mind racing and his Soul pounding, waiting for the result.

In short- he was only doing the work of three or four people now, instead of ten or fifteen. Still, nothing made him more frustrated and fearful than delegation. Nothing niggled at that cold bleakness more than the ‘what-ifs’ of giving any amount of control to other people. But Eddie had been right all those weeks ago; Gaster's staff was handpicked by him, specifically for their skills, intelligence, and their ability to, if necessary, completely take over any and every aspect of the work should something happen to him. He was still painfully needed, still stretched thin by so many simultaneously-conducted complex projects, but he was no longer holding on to them by his teeth and proverbial nails, digging in to try to control a thousand disparate, moving parts all on his own.

And then, of course, there was you. 

Gaster could hardly squirrel himself away in his bedroom, laying on his belly and texting you day in and day out like a teenager, but good lord was it surprisingly tempting. No wonder his brother adored you, and his other brother was beginning to- you were funny, graceful in conversation, and he lapped up the morsels of your affection like a cat with cream. Perhaps recognizing what a flighty creature he was, you towed him in gently- something he recognized and was grateful for…though to be honest, secretly, he wouldn't have minded you being a bit pushier. Almost all of your conversations together were fairly mundane- him venting about his work, you complaining about the antics of a client or your new assignment at the VA after their PT department reached out to you desperate for help, talk about coworkers and friends, TV shows and video games you both liked…

And then, occasionally sprinkled in like bits of sugar, words that reflected something more.

“One of the Glories lets me touch it now, it makes me think of you every time I see them. I love them SO much, such a beautiful present omg…”

“Well screw the finance department then, you're smarter than all of them combined. I'd trust your word over theirs any day.”

“I don't blame you a bit for being upset. That sounds frustrating as fuck sweetheart, I'm sorry you have to deal with that 😔”

It was those little pet names that struck him most deeply. You started using them occasionally, and each time brought him up short; always surprised by your affection and making him smile shyly at his phone, hungry for more. 

It was an agonizing three weeks after that terribly important night at Grillby's before he could see you again; for the first time willingly in over three years, Gaster threw in the towel and left work for the entire weekend. He spent Saturday morning with Papyrus, helping to finish painting his bedroom and the master bathroom- then he nearly crawled out of his own bones with eagerness when he heard your voice call out from the kitchen door around noon. He'd told you he would be over, not quite brave enough to ask you, but…hoping.

For a moment he felt silly, far too old and boring to be this excited about a woman. But after Papyrus went out to greet you in the kitchen and stayed to check whatever he was baking in the oven and you came skipping back to find him while he washed paint off his hands and tools, the sight of you was enough to make him huff out a soft laugh of delight. Then, shyly, you stepped into his space and put your arms gently around his back, and he found truth in your warmth and affection- it wasn't silly at all. What man wouldn't be excited to have this directed his way? 

He sat the paint roller down and pulled you in closer, letting his chin fall to rest on your sun-warm hair as his Soul did funny things in his chest at your touch, unexpected but desperately welcomed. Music filtered in from the hall, where Papyrus had a speaker outside of the paint splash zone; almost subconsciously, Gaster began to rock you to the slow rhythm of the song.

Your voice was hesitant, sweetly nervous. “Hi…I missed you.” 

He nodded, enjoying the softness of your hair on his chin and neck. “I Missed You Too.” Your breasts were so soft against his chest, a lesson in dichotomy against his bones. He wondered if it was odd for you, that his body was so concave and hollow compared to yours- yet you both worked together so well for the same reason. He could pull you in close, the curve of your belly fitting into the empty space between his ribs and his hips…and did so. 

And then his errant, distracted mind cast back to the month before, when you'd been over swimming and your cute little bathing suit had so perfectly framed your nipples, stiffening in the summer breeze. Was he imagining that he could feel them now, soft and unexcited (for the moment) against his chest? That thought led to others, for you had your t-shirt tied up above your waist, and his hands were resting on bare, warm skin right above your ass…the pillowy texture of your flesh would be so perfect for grabbing two handfuls, to hold on to…oh he wanted to, so badly…

In a moment so mortifying that Gaster saw himself blush dark purple in the bathroom mirror, for the first time in probably three whole years his cock quite literally ‘popped’ into existence, the magic immediate, insistent, and heavy between his thighs, squished between him and you.

It was a teenager’s loss of Soul control and he could have died on the spot, take him away and let him drown boys, as he felt you stiffen ever so slightly in his hold because you were close enough that you could feel it too oh god. 

Then you leaned back slightly, just enough to look up into his face, and somehow it was both infinitely better and SO much worse to see that you weren't upset or offended…you were trying not to laugh. 

“My god honey, if you could see the look on your face.” There was so much humor in your eyes that they sparkled with it, a giggle barely, barely constrained in your voice. “You look like you killed my dog or something, it's okay!” Gaster glanced aside, horribly embarrassed and also trying (and failing) not to grin because your humor was infectious, and that's when your shoulders began to shake under his arms. 

“I'm So Sorry, I…Er…” The words wouldn't come (but something else wanted to, his lizard brain helpfully supplied), and he snorted helplessly, the silliness of the situation and the tiny, muffled giggles coming from you not helping in the slightest.

You could barely get the whisper out past the laughter you were desperately trying to hold in, terribly aware that Papyrus was a scant few rooms away. “Yeah you should be! A weenie! A peepee! How scandalous!” 

His chest was heaving with barely-contained humor. “Dear Lord, Stop It-”

“Take him away, officers! This man right here has a dick!”

That broke you both. Gaster doubled over laughing, leaning on your shoulder and the sink as tears came into your eyes, the two of you snickering at each other like absolute dipshits.

Then Papyrus called out, “WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON IN THERE?” and you immediately yelled, “Nothing, officer!” and Gaster had to sit down on the edge of the tub, crying laughing. Holding his head in his hands as he caught his breath, he could see his cock faintly glowing through the black denim of his jeans, and started bargaining with his magic. 

You have to stop, we can't fuck her in a bathroom for God's sake, go away! Where even would we?

And then he imagined it helpfully answering, the sink, the shower, just leaning against the wall! Really, anywhere’s fine with me!

You stepped up between his knees, still chortling, and lifted his head with a hand under his chin, and now that didn't fucking help at all, did it? He barely suppressed the full-body shiver it brought on, his palms itching to find that soft part of your lower back again. If he turned you, you could sit down just so…

“I'm not offended at all. It's…rather flattering, actually. But do you want me to walk away for a minute? I don't want you to be embarrassed.” Your eyes were sweet and kind, full of mirth, and Gaster silently thanked the previous men in your life who had taught you these things. 

“Just, Uh, Give Me A Minute…To Take Care Of This- No, Not Like That!” Gaster gently swatted you as your lips curled into an evil smirk, your gaze flicking over his body with newly dirty intentions as you wiggled your eyebrows. “Go Away, Go! Leave A Man Some Dignity!”

“Okaaay! Have fun taking care of things.” Then you flounced out of the room, stopping only to turn and stick your tongue out before skipping down the hall to annoy his brother.

“Awful Woman,” he muttered, shaking his head with delight. Huffing out a breath of lingering embarrassment and amusement, he stared at the ceiling, taking deep breaths and waiting for his magic to dissipate. 

---

Papyrus swung you into a squeezing hug the moment he saw you, then deposited you up onto the sink with his thoughtless strength,  which did interesting things to your already awake and slightly aroused body.

No! No! Wrong Skeleton!

You pinched yourself as he turned away to fiddle with the mixer, grinning for a moment at the whole situation- dear christ if you lived another hundred years, you might never see a more textbook definition of ‘embarrassment’ as the look on Gaster’s face moments ago. 

You'd wondered, of course you'd wondered, what equipment (if any) Skeletons had. What you hadn't expected was for the world's most obvious cock, large and thick and terribly hard, to literally appear in the blink of an eye, hot and hard and pressing itself against his jeans and your hip.

Gaster had looked fucking mortified, visibly having no more control over that than any other human man, but even as you'd both lost your absolute shit, you were grateful your face had been hidden those first few seconds because dear lord! You supposed it was proportional to his height and all, but if things ever escalated that far, you hoped Gaster was a patient, patient man. You could practically feel your pussy glance up at you in nervousness.

Papyrus turned back around, reaching over your head into the cabinet to pull out spices for the dough he was making. “AND JUST WHAT WERE YOU TWO NE'ER-DO-WELLS LAUGHING ABOUT IN THERE?”

“Gaster's package-” 

something broke in the bathroom

“-see, the terrarium I got him arrived all messed up, you had to be there for it to make sense.”

Faintly, you heard a snort. 

Papyrus gave you a very strange look. “IF YOU'RE THAT AMUSED BY POTTED PLANTS, THEN THE TWO OF YOU ARE BOTH IN DIRE NEED OF ENTERTAINMENT. YOU'RE STILL COMING TO MY BIRTHDAY NEXT MONTH, RIGHT? ON THE THIRTY FIRST?”

You nodded eagerly. “Absolutely! At the community center?” It was a beautiful building, donated from the estate of some local Ebbot millionaire upon their death. Three-storied with a large patio, dance lawn, and lovely gardens, with offices on the second and third floor for rent. The second floor was currently given over to the Monsters as a secondary administrative area, and Gaster had previously mentioned during one of your late night conversations that he and Sans both had offices there. 

“YEAH! AND APPARENTLY, THOUGH I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW THIS PART, THE KING IS GOING TO HAVE FIREWORKS!”

Smiling, you handed him the raisins beside you when he gestured toward them. “Ooooh, magical fireworks? Holy shit.” Then something occurred to you. “How old are you turning, Papyrus?”

“TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY!”

Your brain short circuited. 

“No you absolutely aren't. No way.”

“YUP! TIME FOR A QUARTER LIFE CRISIS, I'M GONNA GO BUY A BOAT.”

Absolutely gobsmacked, you blinked at him. “How in the hell are y- wait no, don't buy a boat, we barely have a river. Buy a second sports car. Or a timeshare you can't get out of. But wait hold the fuck up, two HUNDRED and FIFTY years old?”

He grinned, adding the raisins into the dough. “INDEED! BY HUMAN YEARS, ANYWAY. TIME WAS WEIRD UNDER THE MOUNTAIN.”

You cocked your head- it hadn't seemed particularly odd to you when you were down there almost every day for two years. “How so?”

He sighed, the same little sadness coming into his eyes that every Monster couldn't help but show when they spoke about it. “THE BARRIER. IT WASN'T JUST…A SEAL ON THE SPACE. IT WAS…STAGNATION. PETRIFICATION. THE EARLIEST MONSTERS SLEPT FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS, FALLING TO THE GROUND THE MOMENT THEY PASSED IT AND REMAINING THERE.”

“There Is A Legend About It.” Here came Gaster, wandering out. “That The Spell Was Meant To Be One Of Death. ‘Sleep’ Eternal. But The Blue Mage, The Mage Of Integrity-” he gestured at you “-Realized In The Last Moment That They Were Misled. The Red Mage, In Her Fury, Had Lied. And So The Blue Mage Gave Their Soul Not To Cast The Spell, But To Change It.”

“Like Sleeping Beauty” you murmured, seeing the pattern across folklore. “Seven Fairies, but only one can change the curse to sleep, rather than death.”

Gaster nodded. “Oral History Has A Long Memory. The Story Is Probably The Same Origin.”

“Do the legends say why the red mage wanted to kill all the Monsters?” you asked, shaking your head at the sadness of the thought. “What could an entire race of people have done?”

Papyrus turned the dough out into a paper-lined pan. “LOTS OF DIFFERENT VERSIONS. IN SOME, THEY WERE JEALOUS OF OUR MAGIC, AND WANTED TO EAT OUR SOULS. IN OTHERS, THEY HAD A MONSTER LOVER WHO LEFT THEM AND WENT MAD FROM IT.” He turned to Gaster. “WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER?”

Huh. That was…an interesting way to phrase that. What did Gaster ‘remember’? Remember as in, remembering from school? Or remember, as in…

Faintly, Papyrus's words echoed in your mind, “TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS OLD!”

He was the youngest. Sans was older…

How old was Sans?

How old was Gaster?

“The Version I Knew Was A Story Song. In It, The Angel Fell In Love With A Red Mage, And She Bore Seven Children. Then, A Tragedy Befell Monsters- A Plague, A Famine, This Part Changed Depending On The Singer -And The Angel Reluctantly Returned To Heaven To Find A Solution. But They Didn't Realize That They Would Take Their Divinity With Them. The Red Mage Awoke At Dawn, Surrounded By Her Seven Dead Children, Each Of Their Souls Shattered And The Godhood Stripped Out. She Went Mad, Swearing Revenge On The Angel And Their Chosen People.” 

He smiled sadly, clearing his throat- that was an incredibly long time for him to speak without stopping, you realized. “There Were Many Lessons In The Song. The Ramifications Of Revenge. The Danger Of Human Women When Protecting Their Young. The Origin Of The Seven Prismatic Souls. But I Only Ever Found It Sad.”

You shook your head. “It IS sad. So…I mean, this is a rife question to ask about any religion, so please tell me to shut up if I'm being rude, but ‘The Angel’...is that a title? A person? Or a, you know, ‘being’?”

Bending to put whatever he was making in the oven, Papyrus chuckled. “YES.”

Gaster stepped forward, pulling something up and over his neck and holding it out to you. It was a feather, maybe? Impossibly delicate, like a goose-down feather, the length of your pinky and made of what looked like pure, perfect glass, or crystal. It was set with a silver loop, on a silver chain. 

You were afraid to touch it, so delicate were the little downy barbs at the base, thinner than hairs and looking like they would snap if you breathed on them wrong. 

He smiled, raising his hands. “You won't hurt it. It's stronger than mithal-steel, our mother set it in silver using magic. She claimed it was passed down from her great-grandmother, who received it from a shaman of the Angel, who was given it by their teacher, who received it directly from the Angel’s wing. Quite a chain of ownership, I know. But its magic is strange and undeniably otherworldly.”

Bolder, you traced your finger over the edge, and were amazed that it bent, as soft as a real feather. “Maybe they were an alien. Some beautiful creature from another world, riding down on the meteor that brought magic here.” You didn't realize how soft and wondering your voice was. Unseen, Gaster’s face softened at your gentle awe.

“You Are Well-Versed In Monster Lore.” He sat down in the connected living room, propping his feet up on a hassock. “From Your Time At The University, I Presume?” 

Unnoticed by you both, Papyrus was now leaning back on the sink and watching the whole exchange with barely concealed surprise and delight. Never had Gaster so willingly given that most precious thing into another’s hands, a magical talisman of such power and age that it made Papyrus squint if he looked at it directly. 

Standing, you took it back over to Gaster, setting it gently across his fingers so it didn't fall through his palm, nodding. “I wanted to learn the culture, it was fascinating and new and exciting…and still is. Your mother set it? Was she a jeweler?” He slid it back on, then answered, “A Talismanseri-” He paused to finger spell it out “-a person who works magic through the creation of magical charms and talismans. The smithing of metals and creation of jewelry was often part of that, yes.”

Papyrus pushed himself off the counter. “I'M GOING TO THE STORE. DO YOU GUYS WANT ANYTHING?”

“A pepsi.” “Raspberry tea!” 

“ALRIGHT. I'LL BE BACK, KIDS. BEHAVE.” He grabbed his keys and wallet, heading for the garage. 

And then things were quiet. You wandered in and sat down beside Gaster, reaching for the remote and snuggling over against his arm, warmth pooling low in your belly at his closeness- it spiked when he put his arm around you, tucking you into his side. Settling on the home and garden channel, you smiled, your heart rabbiting with his closeness, and relaxed.

---

Gaster blinked, waking slowly and feeling blurry. A glance at the clock showed it was a little past three, and he was so comfortable and warm that all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. At some point he'd tucked his legs up on the deep couch, scooting down until his head was pillowed on the arm; you were nestled into his chest, your hip resting on the cushion with leg thrown over his. You'd tucked a throw pillow between your head and his ribs. 

Feeling terribly soft and fond, he tried to remember when the two of you had fallen asleep- you'd closed your eyes about an hour into House Hunters, half leaning back on the couch, half on his shoulder. He supposed he must have drifted off himself, shifting the two of you down into a more comfortable position in his sleep. Gaster glanced down again, smiling at your slightly parted lips and long lashes; what a terribly unexpected yet remarkably wonderful turn his life had taken. He was almost (almost) grateful to their Majesties for sending him on a sabbatical, for it had led to all of this.

His eyelids fluttered, heavy from your weight and warmth pressed against him - he yawned hugely. Perhaps this was what his chronic insomnia needed all along. 

You. 

He reached for his phone with his magic, checking it. Papyrus had said an hour ago he'd run into Undyne at the store, and that the two of you would just have to survive without drinks for a time; they were going for lunch.

Satisfied, he sat it back down, shifted slightly to get more comfortable, and, hesitating for just a moment, laced his fingers in with yours where your hand rested on his chest.

Then he fell back asleep.

---

This was an awfully romantic, awfully unhurried relationship progression, you thought to yourself some weeks later. At first, you'd thought Gaster simply to be a very slow-to-warm man, shielded as he was in so many ways. But no- he was actually almost desperately affectionate with you, all yearning stares when he thought you weren't looking, and lingering touches of his hands.

It dawned on you one evening, as he embraced you tightly before you went home for the night but did not move to kiss you, that perhaps he wasn't slow to affection at all, for he obviously desired you- you often felt him harden against your hip, though he was much better at keeping himself canted away from you now. Sometimes when you did nothing more than press a simple kiss to his cheek, the breath would leave him in a tiny gasp that absolutely enslaved you; making you wonder what other passion hid under the rigidly-controlled exterior of him.

Perhaps, you realized sadly as you began to see the pattern, he feared to drive you away- as if he was some frightening thing, to make you nervous if he touched you. You'd come to realize that there was a profoundly quiet sadness in Gaster, a sort of fundamental self-dislike that ran as deep as his protective streak. He redirected compliments and demurred from attention if solely on him, as if he could not accept such things.

Not knowing who else to turn to, you texted Papyrus late the next night. 

“Hey Pap.”

“can I ask you something serious?”

“ALWAYS."

“Is Gaster…okay?” 

“Does he…no other way to put this, does he, I dunno, LIKE himself?”

…

…

…

“CAN I COME OVER?” 

Uh oh. 

“Yeah lemme turn the light on.” 

He showed up with two bottles of wine and a container of handmade cookies, looking horribly troubled as he sat down at your kitchen island- if this was gonna be a two bottle tale, you might need a damn Xanax. Your mind raced as he settled down. 

It was a good night for it, dark and wet with summer storms, bucolic outside. Papyrus poured two glasses, ate four cookies in silence, and then, swearing you to secrecy, told you one of the saddest fucking stories you'd ever heard in your life. 

“HE CARES ABOUT YOU, I'VE NEVER SEEN HIM LIKE THIS WITH ANOTHER PERSON. SO YOU DESERVE TO KNOW. BECAUSE HE WILL NEVER, EVER TELL YOU HIMSELF. HE'S TOO ASHAMED.

You took a fortifying drink.

“Okay.”

Papyrus took a deep breath, his eyes very distant and sad. 

“I TOLD YOU, BEFORE HIS FIRST APPOINTMENT, THAT SOMETHING BAD HAD HAPPENED TO MY BROTHER. SOMETHING YOU SHOULD NEVER ASK ABOUT. “

You nodded.

“SIX YEARS AGO, MY BROTHER TRIED TO KILL HIMSELF IN THE UNDERGROUND. A MONTH BEFORE THE BARRIER OPENED, THE DAY BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY…THE THIRTIETH OF JULY.”

The room was so quiet you could hear the incredibly faint piping of the Glories as they sang to each other. You'd expected a bad relationship or messy divorce, a workplace scandal or family drama. 

Not this. Not at all.

And yet…

So much made sense. Falling into place.

“HE JUMPED FROM THE TOP OF HIS PERSONAL CREATION, THE CORE POWERPLANT, AND SHATTERED ON THE MAGMA. HIS BODY WAS…GONE. BROKEN INTO SPLINTERS, THEN DUST, THEN NOTHING.”

“Sh…shattered? Oh my god, the cracks, the…the scars.” You covered your mouth with both hands, your eyes wide as you pieced together the timeline. “Fuck, he'd said it happened almost six years ago when I asked…but he made it sound like an accident, an…an injury…Papyrus what? Why??”

He emptied his glass and poured another. “BECAUSE HE COULDN'T TAKE IT ANY LONGER? BECAUSE HE'D LIVED FOR SO LONG IN THE DARKNESS AFTER SEEING SUNLIGHT, AND LOST HOPE IN GETTING FREE? BECAUSE THE KING ASSIGNED HIM TO A PROJECT SO TERRIBLE THAT HE COULDN'T LIVE WITH HIMSELF DOING IT? SO MANY THINGS BUILDING UP, AND THOSE ARE JUST THE ONES I KNOW.” Sighing, he touched his finger to an errant drop and rubbed it against his thumb. “HE THINKS I DON'T KNOW. THAT LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, I THINK IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. BUT IT WASN'T.” To your horror, the eternally cheerful Papyrus blinked hard. “HE WAS SO MISERABLE, BY THE END. HE DIDN'T SLEEP. HE DIDN'T EAT. HE DIDN'T TALK, DIDN'T LAUGH. HE JUST…EXISTED. WORKED, AND EXISTED, UNTIL HE DIDN'T ANYMORE.” 

He looked up at you, making eye contact for the first time since the story began- his were tinted orange. “I FELT MY BROTHER JUMP, AND DIE, AND KNEW HE DID IT ON PURPOSE.”

What could you possibly say to that? Wordlessly, you took his hand. 

“SOMETHING BROUGHT HIM BACK, WHEN THE BARRIER BROKE…IT'S HARD TO EXPLAIN. EVEN I DON'T REALLY GET IT. OLD MAGIC, AND TWO MAGE CHILDREN SEPARATED ACROSS TIME.” He took another drink, and you did the same. “HE WAS OKAY FOR A WHILE. YEARS, ALMOST THREE. BUT THEN THINGS STARTED GETTING BAD AGAIN AS THE SURFACE STUFF GOT MORE AND MORE COMPLEX AND STRAINED. HE'S AN ADVISOR FOR THEIR MAJESTIES, AND TOOK CARE OF A LOT OF THE HIGH-STRESS ‘BEHIND THE SCENES’ PARTS OF ESTABLISHING AN ENTIRE NEW KINGDOM INSIDE OF A PRE-EXISTING COUNTRY. WE AREN'T ROYAL, BUT HE'S OLD AND RESPECTED. THEN THE FOOD SHORTAGE BECAME A POSSIBILITY A YEAR AGO, HE GOT SWITCHED TO IT…AND I THINK IT'S BROUGHT EVERYTHING BACK.”

You could only shake your head in sadness for your man, and for his family who loved him so much but seemingly couldn't help him.

“BY THE TIME THEIR MAJESTIES FORCED HIM TO TAKE THAT LEAVE, MONTH BEFORE LAST? I THINK HE WAS DAYS AWAY FROM SOMETHING BAD. HE'S PROUD, STUBBORN, AND WOULD RATHER BE LITERALLY TORTURED THAN SAY HE NEEDED HELP.”

Papyrus rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “SO…YEAH. HE DOESN'T LIKE HIMSELF VERY MUCH. HE SWINGS BETWEEN DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY, AND IT GETS SO MUCH WORSE WHEN HE'S TRYING TO DO A THOUSAND THINGS AT ONCE…BUT HE'LL NEVER SAY NO. IF SOMEONE NEEDS HIM, REALLY NEEDS HIM, HE'LL MOVE HEAVEN AND EARTH TO HELP THEM.”

You bit your lip, staring at the table. Here was your answer. You'd wondered why Gaster didn't seem to push forward, or move to initiate any sort of affection with you? 

“He doesn't think he deserves me,” you whispered with realization. “Which is such a…a stuffed up, self-centered sounding thing to say, I don't mean it that way…”

“NO, I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN.” Papyrus shook his head, emptying his glass for the second time. “HE'S SO MUCH BETTER WITH YOU. SANS AND I ARE AMAZED AT HOW MUCH BETTER, YOU'RE A WONDERFUL INFLUENCE AND YOU'RE REALLY BRINGING HIM OUT OF HIS SHELL. I THINK…HE NEEDED YOU. LIKE SINCERELY. BUT HE PROBABLY TRIES TO JUSTIFY EVERY SECOND YOU SPEND TOGETHER AS HAVING ANY OTHER REASON EXCEPT ‘BECAUSE SHE LIKES ME’.”

“He hasn't kissed me,” you murmured, putting pieces together. “But he'll let me give him a kiss on his cheek, or hug him, and then instantly reciprocates.”

“MY BROTHER IS SO SMART, ABOUT EVERYTHING BUT HIMSELF. YOU MIGHT HAVE TO JUST…COME OUT AND ASK HIM TO. OR BETTER YET, TELL HIM TO. CONVINCE HIM YOU WANT TO. BE CLEAR ENOUGH THAT HE HAS TO BELIEVE YOU.”

The two of you talked further, eventually percolating into your bedroom. Poor Papyrus was emotionally exhausted by the end, and wine drunk. He had a good cry then crawled into your bed, stealing your silk sleep cap, moisturizing night masque, and every single pillow before absolutely passing out. 

But you stayed awake, thinking. Perhaps planning a little. 

Besides, you'd learned through bitter experience that Papyrus kicked like a puppy with a black belt in his sleep. 

-

A few nights later, Friday, you sucked up your courage and sent Gaster something you'd been planning all day. 

“Do you want to go out with me tomorrow night? Like just you and me?”

“Like a date. I'm asking you on a date:)”

“Jesus, real smooth, right?

It was the first Official Dating Thing between you, the first time you put a name to the relationship. Your phone showed him typing something, and then obviously deleting it and retyping his message for literally over five minutes on the clock as you watched.  Finally, he ended up with;

“Oh? Of course, yes, what do you want to do?”

Hmmmmm, what DID you want to do? What would Gaster like, that would also give plenty of opportunities for sneaky being-alone-time and being very romantic? What would be the best distraction, on the six year anniversary of his...no, you couldn't think about it. 

An idea struck. Monsters prayed to the stars, right?

“There's a comet going overhead the next few nights, and I have a telescope I've never even gotten out of the box. Picnic at the Mountaintop Park? I can come get you around seven?”

“I never even knew there was a park up there. Sounds lovely. Anything you'd like me to bring?”

“Just your handsome self! I'll take care of everything else.”

“What kind of telescope?”

There. As usual, he ignored your compliment…but that didn't mean he somehow didn't read it. What Papyrus had said…you couldn't fix him. You knew you couldn't. But you could support him, and let him know in no uncertain terms how you felt about him, a little bit each day.

“You'll just have to see, mister science man!”

A change of subject.

“The Glories let me touch them now. They all crowd onto my fingertips, making the most adorable little sounds. Have I told you how much I love them? You give amazing gifts.”

“I'm so glad you like them.”

“I really miss you, Gaster. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.”

---

Gaster clutched his phone to his chest like a lifeline as he read that last text, trying to look forward to the…the date, and failing miserably. Tonight had been particularly hard, his anxiety spiraling over…everything. Anything and everything in life. It was as if the happier he got, the more the listless depression morphed into painful, chest-clenching anxiety. He was trying to meditate despite it, trying to regain some control to no avail, when your messages first came in. 

He didn't know what you saw in his old bones that made you so enamored, but good god was he grateful for it. He wished he had you there in that moment- to hug him, and tell him things would be fine, and use your cool comforting hands to pull him close and block out the world and its stresses. And he knew he could have those things- you would undoubtedly come over if he asked.

Warring with himself, he typed out the message ten different ways, deleting it each time. He didn't want to be an inconvenience, would rather shoot himself than annoy or bother you, but…

Sans’ voice echoed in the back of his head, something he'd said last week over late-night coffee. “we all love you. that means we're happy if you ask for help.”

He kept them short and simple. 

“Unrelated, I promise..."

"But I think I'm having a panic attack."

Then he pressed send, and braced himself against a fresh wave of adrenaline that washed from his belly to his eyes, gritting his teeth against the feeling of sudden, sure despair that followed it.

Your answer was immediate.

“I get them too. They're horrible. Do you have any medicine or anything to help?”

No. Because he'd never admitted it to another person before. 

“No. Sadly.”

“Do you want some company? Sometimes it helps me to have another person there.”

Desperately.

“It's alright, it's late.” 

“Not what I asked, love. Unless you tell me no right this second, I'm coming over, okay?”

He should say no. Should assure you he'd be fine, let you get some rest. 

He should.

He really should. 

“I'm coming over. Unlock the door for me.” 

With a sudden burst of energy, he turned on the lights in his living room and unlocked the door- he didn't want you coming over to see him sitting in the dark. Then he paced, glancing at the clock again and again; good god, quarter-past midnight. It felt like his stomach dropped out the bottom of his body when he heard your car pull into his driveway; each soft susurration of your sandals through his front lawn felt sickening.

This was so horribly wrong of him, so rude, imagine what you would think about him…

A gentle knock on the door. “Sweetheart? I'm coming in.”

Panicked, he cast his eye around the living room- as sterile and boring as ever, looking as if not a soul lived there. Even the blankets in a basket beside his couch looked too-perfect; washed, pressed, folded and left there every month to be untouched until the next. 

His door clicked open; you came in wearing a grungy t-shirt and shorts, your hair damp; you must have just come from the shower. Cooing, you sat your purse and a small bag down and came up to him, opening your arms with a gentle smile. “C’mere. I need a hug.”

He went, pulling you in gratefully. Just your touch, warm and soft, helped calm that screaming, frothing feeling in his Soul that something bad was coming. 

“Did you get the chance to eat anything today?”

Gaster thought back; no. He shook his head. “I Know It's A Bad Habit. But I Didn't Have Time…Stations Ten Through Twenty Failed, And I Don't Know Why. Only Nine, and Twenty-One Through Twenty-Four Survived. There's No Reason…Or Pattern. The Entire Project Has Been Set Back By Months."

Your face fell. “Oh no, I'm so sorry…good god. Okay. I can do this at least; do you mind if I make us something to eat? I'm starving, and Papyrus said he stocks you up with all sorts of goodies.”

He hesitated. “You Don't Have To, I Can Ord-”

You reached up, far up, to put a finger to his lips; in a happier mood, Gaster would have been terribly amused. He hadn't been shushed in years, then along came this little sprite of a woman and suddenly he wanted to roll over and show his belly. 

Sighing, you cupped his cheek. “The man I care about is having a horrible, painful time, one that I can't fix or help with. Please let me do some tiny thing for you…just so I don't feel helpless in the face of it.” Your eyes were earnest and serious. “My best friends, people I love, are Monsters. I care about all of this too.”

What could he say, in the face of that? “Okay…Okay.”

“Thank you.” Turning, you went and neatly made yourself at home in his kitchen, a kitchen he genuinely had not used since he'd bought the house three years ago. But you said nothing as you unpacked pots, pans, and utensils from their original packaging, washing them quickly. Something about the knives made you sigh in appreciation, running your nail along the edge- Gaster couldn't help but perk with curiosity at that, just a tiny bit.

“Does That Hurt You?”

Casting a smile over your shoulder as you turned to rummage through the fridge, you shook your head. “The white part is essentially dead, keratin protein like my hair. The pink part is alive and has nerves within.”

Huh.

He couldn't help but loom; he hadn't known he owned most of these things. And it was interesting to watch you acclimate, settling in comfortably like a songbird nesting. Vegetables appeared from his fridge like magic; a tray of salmon filets from the freezer. “These knives are phenomenal quality. Like, probably a thousand dollars for one.” 

“Theyy Were A Gift From Toriel And Asgore. I Forgot I Had Them, Honestly.”

That earned him a soft laugh. “What a gift!”

Eventually, in a mirror of your very first meeting, Gaster settled down onto a kitchen chair to watch you. He wondered if this was what he looked like at the Research Center, when he was in his flow and things were going as he wanted them to- skillful and sure, dexterous with the tools around him.

Soon his kitchen smelled wonderful, once the scent of burning dust from the inside of his range dissipated. You named the ingredients as you used them, including him and keeping him focused on the moment with you; he realized about halfway through that he'd been gently, neatly tricked, like an injured wild horse being coerced into a paddock. It was midnight, you'd just finished showering to go to bed…why would you be so terribly hungry? 

He debated saying something…no. He wasn't a fool, ignorant of himself- he'd never have agreed in that moment if you'd said you wanted to make something solely for him. Instead, the warm, rich comfort of being seen and known filled him, and in a strange moment of inner decision and submission, Gaster gave himself over to you for the night. You'd put the bridle on…he'd follow where you led him. 

After a time, you started playing music softly through your phone. He folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them, trying to take slow, deep breaths. Eventually, the sound of porcelain clinking down made him glance up; you'd set a mug of tea down beside him, the pale golden liquid faintly glittering with added magic. When he glanced at you, you smiled, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. 

“I actually grow the herbs myself; I brought you a canister of the blend, if you end up liking it.”

Soaking in your attention like a sponge, he leaned into your hold as you wrapped an arm around his neck, and reached for the mug. Sniffing it, he hummed. “I Know Some Of What's In This, But Not By Name.” 

“Vervain, chamomile, mugwort, yarrow, plantain, and golden poppy, with a ton of honey to cover the mugwort and vervain.”

He sipped- it was very good, a deep bitterness below a layer of florals and sweetness. Loosing an arm from beneath you, he raised his hands into your sight. “If you were a Monster, you could cast a very nice little sleep charm with those.”

“I hope to, even though I'm only a boring, magic-less human.” You bent down and squeezed him, gently itching your cheek on his shoulder for a moment as if scenting him like a cat, then went back to the range where the salmon was lightly frying in olive oil. 

If she knew what we were, she wouldn't want this, came the nasty little voice in his head. She wouldn't give us this simpering pity if she knew this was all karma for the life we've lived. Perhaps the plants die because we touched them? Spreading it like a plague…

He tossed his head, trying to shake the thoughts loose. The whole night had felt like one of those ‘wild mouse’ roller coasters that Sans loved, wrenching him from extreme to extreme with no break in sight…until you'd walked in. Just your presence was a grounding force; Monsters were communal as much as humans were. It was easier to feel safe with his…partner? Date? Girlfriend? With his…’you’ in the room with him.

Lover?

Paramour?

Girlfriend felt too young, too childish…and partner felt too sincere and assumptive. He hadn't had the balls to actually take you on anything resembling a date, coward that he was. Now you'd finally asked him - he wondered if it bothered you to ask first? 

Sighing, he turned to watch you gently sway, stir-frying vegetables as you hummed along to the song on your phone. 

 

Is this how it is? Is this how it's always been?

To exist in the face of suffering and death and still keep singing?

 

Yes, he thought in answer to the human singer. It always has, and always will be. 

He sipped his tea, and prayed that whatever small, secret women's magic that still existed in the world would make it work.

You both ate in a calm silence- as he'd expected, you barely served yourself a few bites, packing away the leftovers into his neglected refrigerator. Then you took him by the hand, leading him down the hall to his bedroom, visible through its open door, and he almost balked. Yes of course you were lovely and beautiful, of course in a better time he'd want…but you…wouldn't he…

Letting go of his fingers, you went and sat on the head of the bed, crossing your legs and patting your lap. “C'mere love. Let me soothe those nerves a little.”

Oh. He almost chuckled at himself, feeling immensely relieved and just the tiniest, tiniest bit disappointed. As he crawled into bed, turning on his hip so he was laying on his back with his head cushioned on your legs, he reached up to run a hand through your hair where it haloed your face- it had dried while you cooked. 

Your answering smile was a reward all on its own, warm and sweet and terribly fond of him- he clung to that. “Now this time, actually tell me if you want me to do something harder or softer, or if something doesn't feel nice, okay?” He nodded. Stretching your neck for a moment, you raised your hands and laid them gently on his forehead, your fingers splayed over his eyes and your thumbs centered. Slowly, meditatively, you began tracing his features, alternating with overlapping, centered strokes up the center line of his brow. 

Minutes passed, your phone still faintly playing music on the mattress next to him. So suddenly exhausted that it was an effort to raise his hands, Gaster signed, “You could do that a bit harder, if you'd like…”

“Got it.”

It felt luxurious. Too good, sensual and shivery, but he couldn't withdraw from you here like he often felt the impulse to when he embraced you, unless he squirmed away on his back like a worm. As your touches moved from simple, gentle massage to more lingering, appreciative strokes down his jaw and the back of his head, Gaster bit the inside of his cheek. 

Laying this close, he could smell your shampoo, could see your eyelashes as you closed your eyes, more focused on your hands and what you felt than looking at him. For a moment your fingers strayed to the back of his skull where his neck joined, in a practiced, thoughtless pattern. He sighed, nestling in further to feel the warmth of your thighs, but you obviously mistook it for discomfort and flinched a little, stilling your movements. “Oh I'm so sorry, my bad. I know you don't like your neck-”

“It Feels Good...Don't Stop.” 

You blinked your eyes open, staring down into his, and the intimacy of the moment made his breath catch. Both of you seemed frozen, only able to watch each other. Then-

“Hey, Gaster?”

“Hmm?”

You hesitated, then gently slid your fingers under the base of his skull. “I…not right now. It's know it's too icky of a night for you, you probably don't want that memory attached. But…just so you know…” 

A deep breath.

“I want to kiss you. I want you to kiss me. I want…all of that, with you. Okay? You don't have to be so…delicate with me.”

The temptation was incredible- he was wracked with indecision, his tongue frozen.

“I'm not some blushing little virginal bride, is what I mean. The big scary Skeleton man isn't gonna scare me away.”

Your little grin made it easier for him to find one of his own. “Th-That's Mister Big Scary Skeleton Man To You.”

Then he reached up, weaving his fingers into your hair to admire its softness. “I Think I'm Afraid That This Can't Possibly Be Real.” 

The oddest, most exciting look came into your eyes. Moving slowly, you slid out from under his head, standing up off the side of the bed so you could turn to face him straight on, crawling up onto the blankets beside him as he propped himself up on his elbows and gazed up at you with god only knew what expression on his face.. The wide, off-shoulder neck of your t-shirt drifted down to let him peep inside, your breasts looking incredibly soft and touchable where they mounded above your bra, and Gaster felt like a giddy fifteen year old boy again. He knew where this lead, and felt like he was floating on sleepy, leisurely eagerness, the anxiety forgotten for a moment in the wake of your touch.

Half kneeling beside him, you reached a hand out, cupping around the back of his head. “Well I know damn well that I’m real…and I'm very, very interested in this handsome, quick-witted, sarcastic Skeleton fellow I've met…” Your gaze dropped to his mouth. “And I want to kiss him.”

He blinked, his lips parting subconsciously. When it came, his voice was so low in his chest that it didn't even break.

“Then…Then Kiss Me.”

Notes:

Find me within tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 7: Acceptance

Notes:

Earning that E rating just a little. A taste :)

The song playing in the bedroom is “I Will- Mitsky”

This poor man. Poor, sweet, powerful, dangerous man. How desperately he wanted to be touched, and couldn't let himself.

Well…so be it. You could take the reins for now. Because my god did he look good, laying there with a half-astonished, half-bold grin on his face; the core of older, more confident and flirtatious times warring with his newer, damaged self-confidence. As if he couldn't believe the words that just came out of his mouth, but was desperately happy they did.

‘Then…Then Kiss Me.’  

How could any woman resist? 

Trembling a bit, because he was horribly handsome and your belly was flipping on itself with nervousness, you leaned in, hesitating one last moment in case this wasn't what he wanted…and tilted your head to press your lips to his. It was a feather-touch, made all the sweeter by how his breath left his nose in a quick little jolt. Then you went very still, and waited.

Glacially, he melted beneath you, relaxing under your touch as you caressed his jaw. His hand came up to cover yours, pressing it harder to his cheek as if to ground him there while he propped himself on the other. It amazed you to feel the alien difference of him; the cool, smooth ‘bone’ of his face and lips having the slightest give to it, like porcelain that could flex. It made kissing him so relaxing, unhurried and lovely, and even more so when at last he shifted to slowly, slowly kiss you back, his lips moving beneath yours.

Then he leaned back, separating just enough to whisper, “Gods Above, But You Human Women Are So Soft,” and fell back off his hand to lie flat, pulling you gently down with him, laying half on your belly beside his resting form, and half on his chest. He used your hand to pet down his jaw and neck, reaching up with his other to press his thumb to your lower lip, testing the plushness there. “I Didn't Mean To Make You Feel…Unwanted.”

It was as though he was casting a spell on you; that deep, shattered, whiskey-and-cream voice rumbling up through his chest where it was pressed against yours, making you gasp just the tiniest bit- of course he noticed, giving you a lopsided, shy little smile. You shook your head, blushing under his gaze, and took your hand away from where he held it so that you could drape over him and hold him, throwing a leg over his thigh as you nestled into his shoulder. How to phrase this?

“I…knew, that maybe you would struggle. I see how willing you are to put everyone else before yourself, how you don't see yourself in the best light. It makes me sad…I have a terrible crush on you, you know.”

His laugh was warm under your ear, full of wonder, as he pulled you in closer and shook his head at the ceiling. “How Did I Get So Lucky? Where Did You Even Come From? I…You…” He turned to face you, the light in his eye so softly diffuse that it was almost sourceless, filling his skull with a warm, slightly violet-tinged glow. It matched the pale blush in his cheeks.

It was irresistible. You leaned in to kiss him again, and this time he met you, sliding a hand into your hair and tilting your head for a better angle. His experience was obvious and delightful, his movements unrushed; just the way his lips moved beneath yours was tantalizing, parting to recapture you again and again. Terribly embarrassingly, for you weren't trying to rush this (especially not tonight of all nights) a tiny noise left your throat, a little unconscious note of delight and want. 

His hand tightened in your hair, going from caressing to insistent, pulling you in just a bit harder as his other came up to wrap around your waist. He moved so your leg was pressed between his own, as if to hold you there, and kissed you soundly, bolder by the moment. You were helpless but to do the same again, not even a moan or a whimper but just a single, breathy note of desire, as you felt him long, thick, and half hard against your thigh. 

He broke from you, dragging his mouth to the corner of your lips, to your cheek, to the join of your jaw. “More Of That…” he murmured, tracing up to your ear and using his grip on the back of your hair to move you so he could press a kiss behind it. The thoughtless strength, the sure way he handled you; it was such an ugly shame that his confidence had been so shattered over the years because this was a man who knew what the fuck he was doing. He stayed there with fascination as your breath caught, filthily running his tongue up the shell- when he nibbled gently, you squeaked.

Instantly he let go, soothing it with a kiss, his voice a gentle murmur. “I'm Sorry, Did I Hurt You?”

Pressing your face into his neck, you laughed softly. “No, not at all, I just, um…”

Gaster stroked up your back, sliding his fingers under your shirt to rub small circles there. “Ah.” There was warm humor in his voice. “Monsters Are Stronger Than Humans…You're A Rather New Experience To Me, I Wanted To Be Sure.” Sighing happily, he turned his head a little, nuzzling into your hair. Pleasure thrummed warmly in your belly, your body relaxed and sleepy and turned on in an exciting, but not urgent way. There was warm promise in every moment he touched you- he'd take care of you if you needed it. 

A yawn shook you hugely; you checked your phone.

“Two-thirty, lord, I…”

God you wanted to stay, to fall asleep with him like the two of you had on the couch some days before. But you also didn't want to presume…

Gaster motioned, and a faint purple, skeletal hand appeared to split off from his, going to the bottom of the bed where the blankets were crumpled. He had them pulled halfway up your legs before he froze, glancing at you. “Er, Is This Alright? If You Want To Leave, I-”

Great minds think alike, as the old saying went. “I was just thinking that I wanted to stay but you might not want me to.”

He shook his head. “Stay. Please, Stay Here.”

You separated from him with a kiss, going to the bathroom to get ready for bed and taking off your bra. You hesitated at your shorts; you didn't usually sleep in them…but…

Oh fuck it. Communication was important right?

Sticking your head out the door, you called, “Hey. How offended would you be if I took my shorts off?” Gaster's laugh was low and rich in answer, coming from the bedroom. “Pity To Stop There.”

Grinning, you rolled your eyes. “Woooooow.”

His bathroom was the only part of the house besides the bedroom that looked lived in. The man had a veritable collection of colognes, a mess of bottles spread across the shelf above the commode, the windowsill, and the back of the sink. The shelves around the large tub were equally full of luxurious men’s bath products; it made you smile. Somewhere buried deep, Gaster was a sensual man. He liked smells and textures, touch and long baths. 

Thanking your past self for thinking to pack an overnight bag, you brushed out your hair, brushed your teeth, and then wandered back in. He'd changed into pajama pants, black like seemingly every other price of clothing he owned, and was sitting with a laptop open in his lap. His eye roved over your bare legs and simple underwear, appreciative. 

“Letting Alphys Know I Won't Be In. Then Monday Is Papyrus's Birthday…Those Fireworks Are Really Going To Be Something Else, If Who I Think Made Them Is Right.”

Yawning again, you crawled under the blankets beside him, relaxing as he finished up and secretly so happy that he'd decided to stay home from work. “I'm excited to see. I love normal ones, I can't imagine how these will be.”

After a few minutes, he closed his computer and set it aside. That done, he sighed, running an appreciating hand over your hip as he stretched and nestled down into his bed. It was disgustingly large, but of course it had to be; the man was taller than almost any human. 

Gaster laughed softly beside you; when you turned to him with a questioning noise, he shrugged. “This is a very Monster way of doing things. Sleeping together, literally sleeping together, before almost anything else. An old tradition, a way to see if the two people are compatible.”

“Honestly really sensible.” As he turned out the light, you threw an arm over his waist and a leg over his. “Shove me away if I'm too much in my sleep, I'm a stage five clinger.”

“I'd Like It No Matter What. Trust Me.”

From the corner of the bedroom, his own large bowl of Glories rose and fell in their faintly glowing eternal dance, piping softly in their strange little voices. It made you smile to watch them, your eyelids heavy. God he just smelled so good , comforting and exciting and soothing and thrilling at once. 

“Good night, sweetheart.”

He answered you with a kiss on the forehead.

---

Gaster woke at dawn- he always did. Even on the rare times he fell back asleep, his body would first drag him awake and keep him there for an hour or two. He'd turned on his stomach in his sleep, and now when he tried to turn back, something warm stopped him… oh .

He smiled so wide it hurt, burying his face in his pillow. You hadn't lied when you'd said you were a clingy sleeper and he adored it- your arm was twined up and through his ribs, your leg thrown over his pelvis, spooning him completely. In his sleep, his Soul had floated up to alight on your hand where you lightly gripped his spine; now it rested there, fluttering gently as it slowly spread tendrils of ultraviolet magic over your skin. 

No, silly. You can't root in her, he thought with a fondness he hadn't felt toward himself for a while. Stop that.

Beside him, you stretched a little in your sleep, snuggling in and pulling yourself even closer with your thigh. It felt so good, the warm weight of you so soft, so alive. Was this what his mother had loved first about his father-  the intrinsic ‘realness' of his humanity?

He recalled his Soul gently off your skin, moving it back to rest within his ribcage proper. That done, he shifted slightly in place, a half-conscious movement to make your hand slide just slightly across his spine…and that felt lovely. Even asleep you were kind to him, your fingers moving to soothe sleepy little circles into the smooth bone; how could something calm and excite at the same time? Full of curiosity and the embers of last night’s pleasure, he rocked into your hold just to see what would happen. A single, gentle press of his body sideways into yours.

Laying as you were with your legs spread wide over him, the wing of his pelvis was pressed so close that it was separating the soft lips between your thighs the tiniest bit, a barely-there scrap of fabric between him and that most delicate part of you. How interesting that the two of you fit together so well! He did the same thing again, and was delighted and absolutely piqued to feel the tiniest flex of your body there, muscles fluttering as you clenched down on emptiness in your sleep. Ah, so human women had the same spot as many Monster ones, a little bead of pleasure to play with…it must have been pressed up against him, rubbing through your underwear on the crest of malleable bone.

Ever the scientist, he went to do it again, just to see what reaction he could get…and your hand tightened slightly on his spine. 

Your voice was sleep-cracked and amused, muffled into the pillow and his shoulder. “Can I help you?” 

Helpless and caught in the act, he giggled- giggled! -peeking at you from the corner of his eye as you sleepily cocked a brow at him.  Like a young man caught by his lover, like he wasn't old and full of grouchiness. 

“Would You Believe Me If I Said I Was Curious?”

Snorting softly, you rolled over on your other side and put the pillow over your head. “From anyone else but you? No.” As he laughed you muttered, “We’re outside of open hours, come back later sir.”

“Ah, Not A Morning Person?”

“Nuh-uh.”

Still smiling, he turned over and draped an arm over you; his hand accidentally fell to land on your breast, making him hum. It was indescribably soft, so delightful to his hand that he had to fight not to squeeze. “Ah, Sorry-”

Turning just enough to peer at him, you smirked, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a kiss to his fingers. “-if you make me horny at six o-fuckin-clock in the morning, you have to do all the work. I ain't doing nothing but laying there and enjoying it.” 

“It Was An Accident…That Time. Scouts Honor.”

“Accidentally a pervert.”

He buried his face in your hair, silly and sleepy and so wildly out of character compared to his recent self that even he noticed it. “I Don't Know What's Come Over Me. I'm Just…”

“...happy,” you finished for him, pressing his hand to your heart and snuggling back into his arms. “You're happy. I like that you're happy, it makes me happy. I also like sleeping, and want to do more of it.”

Chortling, he nodded, pulling your hips back slightly to nestle into the crook of his body. It was amazing how much more comfortable one was with a person after a night sleeping together; to borrow the term, it ‘humanized’ them.

Grabbing one of his many pillows, you hugged it to your chest and relaxed back into him with a sleepy, happy sound. “Wake me when the sun's actually up.”

He nodded, pressing his face into your hair. 

-

It was so easy to have you in his home; Gaster was amazed how easy it was. He'd never had a woman stay more than an hour or so the next morning, had stressed a little about it as you took a shower...but then you padded out, gave him a kiss, and wandered over to his bookshelves...and he realized he wanted you to stay. He almost thought She could stay every day, and then mentally pinched himself for the presumptuousness. But god it was just so good to have you nearby, to be able to point out something of interest on the news, and hear your soft breath, and feel your Soul near his. 

You spent the day lounging in his living room with one of his many books, watching TV with him as he sorted through the seemingly infinite emails that had arrived overnight. Alphys was doing her genuine best to filter what came his way, but somehow his direct office email had gotten out into the finance department and they were sending audited proposals as fast as they could produce them instead of going through the proper channels. Finally, he set up a filter and a terse auto-answer, and blanket-replied to every single message with the word ‘budget’.

Lunch was entertaining; seemingly thrilled with his untouched kitchen, you rummaged through his cabinets and fridge until even his uneducated eye could tell something truly skilled was taking form.

“You Are A Phenomenal Chef, Where Did You Learn?”

That earned him a blush and a flattered smile as you turned away from some sauce you were stirring constantly. “I always loved it. When my brother and I were little, our parents were never home; traveling pharmaceutical reps. So we'd cook together, making these huge fancy meals. And then Papyrus and I met at a French cooking class four years ago!”

It felt good, to learn these little snippets of your life. “You Do Your Teachers Credit. What Is This?”

“Vichyssoise and a tomato tarte with béchamel.”

He snorted, shaking his head admiringly. “I Know A Few Of Those Words.” Giggling, you pointed at a stack of vegetables he didn't even know he had. “Zucchini and leek cream soup, with a baked, ah, kind of like a pie? But made with puff pastry, and topped with a cream sauce. None of it is really too hard to make, plus you have the nicest pans I've ever seen. It's fun; you kinda have like a miniature professional kitchen out here.” 

Having tucked himself into the armchair closest to the kitchen, he reached out with magic and caught an onion as it rolled off the counter. “Oops! Thank you!” You took it from his spectral hand, then, hesitating, reached out to brush your fingers along its own. “Can you feel that?” 

“Sure. It's Still Me.”

The sidelong look you gave him at that, so suddenly heated and obviously erotic, made him laugh a little as you turned back to the veggies. “What?”

“Nothing!” 

“No, Now I Want To Know!” 

“Oh, nothing at all.” 

There was mirth ringing in your voice as you steadily chopped the leeks. Entertained and emboldened by last night, he slid to his feet and came over, bracketing you in against the counter with his hands on either side of your form. “Well Now I Really Must Insist.”

Humming, you sat the knife down and leaned back into him, curving your body to his. Your eyes were lovely as you tilted your head back to gaze up at him, grinning heatedly. “Use your imagination- what possibly could a human girl be picturing, from a handsome man who can make magical hands?”

Ahhh. He slid his hand up your throat, tilting your head just a bit further back; it was so delightful, so warming, to see your eyes darken in response. How wonderful it was, to have a woman who wanted you, who was interested in you both as a person and as her man. His voice didn't come as deep and rich as it once was, but it earned your ardor all the same. “I'm Afraid I'm Terribly Uncreative…Perhaps You Would Guide My Imaginings?” 

You slipped from his gentle hold on your neck, turning in his arms until you faced him. Then, an evil little half smile on your lips, you took his hands in your own. “Well you see, let's imagine, for example, that you were kissing me- which of course you never really would, being ever the gentlemanly type.”

He nodded obediently, the picture of sainthood. “Of Course, Of Course.”

Slipping your fingers into his, you slid his palms down to your hips, squeezing with his hands so that his fingers sank into the soft, pillowy flesh there as he bent to accommodate you. You were wearing a cropped tank top and low pair of shorts that you'd packed the night before, and he hummed at the feeling of your bare skin, so perfectly grippable. “And let's say that you were holding me just like this, holding me down.”

Christ. You were like kindling, sparking beneath his grasp, making him yearn for things he hadn't in such a long time. “...Mmhm, Naturally.”

“And of course your mouth would be busy; human women are so very sensitive right…here…” You brushed your lips over his collarbone, through the soft cotton of a Papyrus t-shirt that had made its way into his laundry. Gently, so very gently, you pressed a kiss to the thin fabric…then opened your mouth and held him there with your, fuck, your teeth, the barest pressure on the top and bottom of the delicate bone. 

He choked on a groan, silencing it to a heavy breath as he pulled you against himself harder by the hips. “A-Ah, Yes, Very Busy…”

Releasing him from your lips, you let go of his hands, squeezing them once to be sure they stayed where you placed them, then reached up and looped your arms over his shoulders, going up on your tiptoes. “So here you are, holding me and kissing me…but now I know that you can make more hands than just these-” you swayed your hips in his grip, rubbing yourself against his cock as it absolutely throbbed in his jeans “-well all I can do is picture them other places at the same time.”

Gaster eyed the counter behind you- it was the perfect height.

“And this Gaster fellow, he's very intelligent, you know. Honestly a genius, endless awards and projects…oh, a-and so much research, truly the…the cleverest man I've ever met.”

Your little ‘oh’ and stutters came when he used his magic to shift everything on the counter behind you over a few feet, then effortlessly lifted you by the hips to sit atop it, his thigh knocking your knees apart so he could press between them. “It Sounds Like You're Terribly Interested In Him...”

“Very much so.” There was hot promise in your eyes as you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him in. “So you see, curious creature that I am, I'm wondering-” he huffed out a breath as you rubbed yourself against him, the heat of your body palpable even through his denim “-if he's so clever, and his hands and mouth are so busy…” 

He bent his head to the join of your neck and shoulder, and sucked such a hard hickey into it that you gasped, moaning softly as your skin instantly bloomed purple-

“...ohhh…so th-then how many other things could he do with those magical hands? How many things could he do at once, with that wonderful, smart brain?”

A lot, he thought to himself muzzily. Having you here was like an aphrodisiac; just your presence in his home, making a space for yourself in his arms and his heart, it felt like it was bringing him back to life. Like some older part of him was waking up, looking around and wondering where the fuck it had been all this time.

You turned your head, dragging your lips along his temple, your voice a whisper as he began to rock his hips into you, desperate for any sort of contact to relieve the desire and heat building within, the insistent fucking need to be closer to you.

“You're so fucking hot like this...” Your mischievous little hand slid down his chest, tracing the solid plates of 'bone' that covered his upper ribs. "I can't even focus on what I was saying."

He caught your eye. "What Do You Want?"

Those clever fingers slid up under his shirt, and you lightly scratched your nails up behind those bone plates. "I want to know what makes a Skeleton feel good..." Then you dragged your teeth across the corner of his jaw, and the sensation felt so delicious and desperate that he growled.

"...I want you to feel good." A warm path of pleasure as you ran your tongue up the side of his neck delicately. "I want to be the one who makes you feel good."

Gaster swore, a warning pulse of pleasure from the root of his cock at your words, and the room exploded in purple light. A hand turned the stove off; a second moved the knife from behind you. A third gripped you by the back of the head, hard enough to make you laugh out a moan, while a fourth undid his pants. Perhaps a few more appeared; working your shorts down as he pulled you in by the small of your back, checking the lock on the door, who knows; he sure fucking didn't. Sometimes magic was instinctual and subconscious, and this was most certainly one of those times.

Gaster didn't fuck you, not yet. He wanted to give himself time; five years felt like an eternity right now, and he wanted to learn a bit more about human women before he did. But he did pull himself free from his pants- your mouth dropped open when you realized he wasn't wearing underwear -and threw your shorts to the floor haphazardly. God help him, you'd worn a thong; the material soaking wet and almost lost within the swollen, pinkened saddle between your legs. He pressed his length there, nestling between those soft, plush lips with their covering of neatly trimmed hair, and moaned brokenly as you humped yourself brazenly up and down his length. Your little clit was stiff, a point of pleasure catching on the head of his cock and dragging up and down the length as the thin strip of fabric got pushed aside; he'd never done this before, only fantasized about it, and god it felt so good to see the pleasure bloom on your face.

Coughing out an incredulous laugh, he started to move with you, sliding his cock through your folds, dizzily horny and absolutely obsessed with how you felt against him. It was nothing like his hand, nothing like a Monster's magical body; it was organically real, and raw, and so deeply fucking sensual that he was being pulled fighting and kicking to a climax much faster than his pride wanted. He wanted to lick you, wanted to shove his fingers and tongue and cock so deep that you screamed into that tiny little, soaking wet opening he could see each time he rocked back. It looked impossibly small, compared to him, and the thought of somehow stuffing himself in there nearly made him cum on the spot.

You were panting, gazing up at him with hooded eyes and swollen lips, your ankles locked behind his hips. Then you looked down, back up again, and murmured-

“Purple’s a good look on me, don't you think?”

-and Gaster’s knees almost gave out. He stared at you, not knowing how wide-eyed and blown away he looked as his body sped its movements. “How Are You Real? How Is This- Fuck, God Yes -How Is This Happening? Did They Just Find You Somewhere, A Tailor-Made Distraction To Drag Me Back To Life?”

You laughed, high and breathy, your pussy so wet he could hear it now. “You caught me baby, special hire. Made j-just to convince Doctor Gaster to have a little fun, please right there, just like that...oh-oh god, oh god!”  

He bowed over you, tucking you into his chest as he humped against you like a teen, affection and desire threatening to swamp him. The tremble in your legs, the tightness of your belly, the way your breathing changed to be high and tight in your throat...there were no words for this, no way to express his gratitude that he'd met you when he had, that you'd forgiven him like you had, that you wanted him as you so obviously did…

“Come On, Fuck Let Me Feel It, Let Me See How a Human Girl Cums On My Cock-”

You sobbed out a moan, just one, and then your body locked so hard around his that he wondered if the disparity of strength between Monsters and humans was exaggerated. Your nails dug through his shirt into his arms, your ankles pulled him in crushingly hard, and Gaster nearly cried out in overwhelm as your pussy fluttered so hard against his length that he could feel it.

“Gaster!” 

It was irresistible. He felt it work its way up his cock; thick and wet, five years of repression, of unmet want and bone-deep frustration, pouring from him in spurts that spread from your belly button to drip down to the crease of your thighs. Each wrenching pull of pleasure made him groan your name, his thighs trembling, earning an answering moan as you petted and soothed him, encouraging him with broken nonsense murmured into his chest- “Yesss, that's it...c-come on, God you sound so good...give it to me-”

It felt like it would never stop. He needed it to stop, please god, too much...no, he needed it to last forever, needed this Soul-deep pleasure that wrung filthy sounds from his throat and made him nearly beg for it. 

In the end, he couldn't help it; he slithered to his knees on the floor, his face pressed to your breasts and panting like he'd run a race. 

Some moments passed as the two of you calmed and his hands lost their tremble. Finally, you laughed, hoarse and low in your throat. 

“Jesus christ sweetheart. I might need to go back to bed.”

He nodded, waving a shaking hand to drag a roll of paper towels over magically; it took two tries. “Let's Just…Let's Just Order A Fucking Pizza Or Something.”

“Yes, please.”

---

It had been a herculean and admirable effort, you thought, trembling and deeply satisfied as you collapsed sideways onto his bed, that you made it this far on your own two feet. Gaster had wiped your belly clean, pressing kisses to your chest through your tank top, and had stayed behind to half-assedly stuff things back into the fridge. The béchamel had shattered; small price to pay.

You'd guessed the man would fuck like an avalanche. But it was one thing to guess, and another to know. It was almost enough to make a woman religious. 

Gaster came stumbling in a minute or two later, barely getting his shirt off before he fell half into bed beside you, burying his face in your bare belly and wrapping an arm between your thighs to splay a huge hand across your lower back. A peace you hadn't felt in a very, very long time came over you; you petted your hands over his skull, still faintly catching your breath as he did the same. 

Your eyelids were terribly heavy, despite it being barely two o'clock. “I honestly might fall asleep.”

He smiled against your skin. “Then Sleep. I'll Be Here.”

How was that so fucking comforting? You'd known the man for almost three months, had been ‘with’ him barely two, and yet you had more trust in him than some people you'd known for years. It was everything about him; his quiet generosity, his sharp honesty, the way he did everything to the absolute best of his ability. 

“That was amazing…” you whispered, because you wanted him to hear you say it. “God above, if I'd known you were around years ago, I'd have been breaking into that damn research lab.” 

He chortled, rubbing his face on your tummy. “I Wouldn't Have Been Able To Resist, I'm Sure.”

It felt like an incredible chance, getting to see this side of him. A rare and beautiful thing- first his passion, so suppressed and private, and then his affection, open and offered freely. 

"You've missed this," you murmured, scratching the back of his head like a lion; he pressed himself into it in much the same way. "You've missed having someone."

He nodded without looking up at you. "I'm...Sorry If All Of That Was...Rushed? I Don't Know What Came Over Me."

You snorted. "Be sorry for that any longer and I'll slap you across the back of the head, that was amazing. If you couldn't tell by the sobbing orgasm, I loved it. I just...well, I'd say it was a surprise, but it's not. You're a passionate man." Truth uncovered itself as you spoke it, sympathy in your soft voice. "You've lost a lot of yourself over the years, haven't you? I feel like I'm seeing a side of you that you havent been able to find for a long, long time."

His silence and sudden stillness were all the answer you needed. Pressing your lips together in a grimace of pity, you curled around him as if to shield him, wrapping your arms around his head and your leg over his arm. "It wasn't rushed. It was exactly what you wanted it to be, exactly what I wanted it to be. It felt so good- I want more...though not right this second, my brains will fall out my ears if I do. I want to see you happy, confident and sure like you were a few minutes ago."

Then, because he still hid in your body and wouldn't answer, you whispered, "I dreamed about kissing you, these past few weeks. I dreamed about a garden, and a clock tower, and some other silly things I don't even remember, and in all of those places you were there, kissing me." You couldn't 'fix' his depression. But you could sure as hell give him some truthful ammunition against it. 

When he looked up at you, there was the tiniest hint of ultraviolet moisture at the corner of his eye that you dutifully ignored; it disappeared quickly. "I Wanted You So Badly, The Day You Came Over For Your Car. If Poppy Hadn't Called, I Would Have Reached For You. Then I...Got Nervous. Doubted."

He shifted, pulling his arm from between your legs and scooting upwards a bit until he could pull you in to nestle against him, clearing his throat. "And You Are A Minx; I Cannot Tell You How Succeptible I Am To A Beautiful Woman Whispering Filthy Things In My Ear. Now I'll Never Know What Béchamel Sauce Tastes Like."

Yawning, you chuckled. "I'll make more...later."

He raised his hands between you.

"Go to sleep." 

You did.

Notes:

Well then. That made even me blush a little bit!

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 8: Recovery Focused Skills

Gaster cracked an eye open when the doorbell rang; the pizza delivery. It was like moving through mud to trudge his happily weary bones out to the front door- he might have tipped the man a hundred dollars, fuck if he knew. It was the only local pizza place that delivered magically-treated food, and he'd seen the guy before, so he didn't begrudge the money- happy birthmas, or whatever the hell humans celebrated. His brain was too mushy to remember. 

It was such a small thing to be so taken aback by, but the sight of you curled up on his bed, still laying as if he was holding you…it did something to him. The gentle pattern of your sleeping breaths, the curl of your hand where it rested next to your head; you were so painfully beautiful. He felt bad for the Gaster of yesteryears, for you'd been so close, defending a thesis at the very university that neighbored his New Home facility. He'd probably been invited to sit on your panel for the Angel's sake, he could have met you, could have heard your musical laugh and sparred with your sharp wit so long ago. 

As if feeling his absence, you turned over in your sleep, stretching an arm across the sheets with a tiny frown on your face, and his heart melted. The pizza was carried to the top of a dresser in a set of spectral hands as he crawled back beside you, gathering you up into his arms and smiling so wide it ached the crack beneath his eye as your frown instantly faded. You hummed in your sleep, wrapping your arm up through his ribs, which tickled terribly now that he was awake for it; any of the ‘inner’ spaces of bone were sensitive, and he bit his lip to keep from laughing as he tried to unwind your grip….no luck. You'd wrapped your fingers around his spine, and were holding on with all of your unconscious monkey ancestry. 

“Here Now…Sweetheart-” he muttered, trying not to squirm “-Let Go, Dear Lord-”

The love-name slipped from his lips thoughtlessly, copied from you. You took a deeper breath, waking a little, and he could pry your fingers free. 

“...hmmm?”

He smoothed your hair back from your face. “It's Been Less Than An Hour. Pizza Is Here.”

You stretched, then imperiously held out a hand with your eyes still closed, making him roll his good-naturedly. “Oh Yes Ma'am, Right Away.”

Groaning as he stood, he padded over to the dresser; his phone was there still from the night before, a missed call and a few texts from Papyrus. 

“HAVE YOU SEEN MY FAVORITE HUMAN? I WAS THINKING TO GO PLAY DISC GOLF WITH HER BUT ALAS SHE IS NOT HOME.”

Pizza in one hand, he answered,

“She's actually over here”

and then because mischief demanded it, 

“and honestly probably not in any state for running or frisbees at the moment. Or standing.”

The reply came exactly as he expected.

“WHAT” 

Grinning, he turned back to the bed, depositing the pizza next to you as you blearily smiled at him. “I'm Afraid You're Missing Discgolf, Apparently.”

His phone was chiming with texts so rapidly that he couldn't help but laugh.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS”

“YOU”

“YOU”

“FRIENDSTEALER!!!!”

“BESMIRCHER!”

“CORRUPTER!”

You propped yourself up on one arm, reaching for the box as you scrubbed a hand over your eyes. “Good lord, is that Papyrus?”

He nodded, and as if in agreement, your phone began to ring from the living room. An absolutely evil smile came over your face as Gaster summoned it into his hand and gave it to you.

“Oh hello dearest friend Papyru-”

“YOU DID NOT!!!!"

-

You went home for a few hours, to change clothes and grab a few things you said you'd ‘found at the store’, and Gaster shook his head at his own silliness when he realized he missed you even in that short space of time. An emailed update from Poppy made him sigh with relief.

‘Other stations still stable. Still no rhyme or reason, but they've completed two proven growth cycles with no degradation of the seed stock. Sans left for the day after I made him- Eddie and I will be here the next three days while we wait for the new stock to germinate and restart the programs. Will keep you updated.’

That done, he pondered something that had occurred to him the day before. He couldn't keep wearing his brother's clothing forever, and literally everything he owned were ‘business casual work clothes’. Looking at the clock, he did some quick math; yes, he had enough time to go shopping before the…the date . 

Bizarrely, pulling into the Monster Mall (the on-the-nose names were practically a cultural tradition now) felt a bit like therapy. If he had clothing for things other than work, then surely he'd be more likely to do other things than go to work. The Spiders that owned the boutique that caught his eye, men's wear that was dark and sensible, were polite to a fault, staying behind the desk but offering their assistance if needed. He hesitated, feeling very out of his depth…

Oh fuck it. Why not ask?

“Actually, I Do Need Help. I Have No Sense Of Fashion, And A Reason To Look Decent Has Recently Implanted Herself In My Life.”

The largest Spider, lovely and pale blue with white frosted hairs on her face and legs, tittered in a hissing giggle as she slid off her stool. “Ah yesss, we women are certainly disssruptive. We would be happy to help. Ladiesss?” 

Gaster was measured, seated, and a bottle of water in his hand before he could so much as blink thrice. Secret (the blue and white owner of the boutique introduced herself as) kept him company, holding pieces up to his body as her assistants brought them over. He expressed a preference for black, but soon some deep blues, black-purples, and a single dark emerald green joined the steadily growing pile of sweaters, shirts, jeans, and the occasional t-shirt. 

“It isss delightful, sssince SSSkeletonssss do not really mind temperaturesss of any type, you can dressss for ssstyle, not jussst the weather. I will arrange thessse thingsss together, so you know what goesss with what.”

“Thank You.”

She smiled up at him, playfully flirtatious in a friendly sort of way. “And will you be wanting accessssoriesss? Such a tall man, you will be wanting to draw the eye to your hands, perhaps even necklacesss?”

He considered it, grinning as she preened herself daintily with her mandibles while she spoke- she was beautiful, and fun to talk to. When had he stopped noticing such things? “As You See Fit.”

And that was how, in a scant two hours, Gaster found himself with literally an entirely new closet of clothing. One outfit in particular was his favorite, a shirt so dark of a violet as to almost be black, made of Spider silk that shifted in the sunlight like ripples on a pond. Pairing it with a dark pair of jeans and a new pair of black sneakers, even he could admit that it looked good on him, bringing out the slight, slight tint of violet magic in his bones. 

That done, he stopped at a bakery for some choice treats, because damned if he'd show up to this picnic empty handed.

As he began the drive home, something made him slow with a shock of recognition- he pulled up beside a large, roadside stand. A lovely Griffon he knew very well was there, displaying talismans and charms beneath an awning, her shock of bright blue feathers eye catching and unmistakable even from a distance.

“Origami! It's Good To See You Out And About!”

The woman smiled, sweeping him into a hug with her huge wings. “Oh! Oh! And you as well my dear! How long has it been? You never come to visit your dear Auntie anymore. I promised your mother I would keep an eye on you, yet how deftly you avoid it!”

Guffawing, he swatted at her as she bodily turned him to and fro, her ancient eyes sharp as she peered into his face. “Enough! Enough, I Am Surviving As Well As Can Be Expected. I'm Happy To See You In The Sun.”

Her gaze softened. “It is a very big world. The sky is a threat I have not yet remastered. But having a roof helps-” She pointed at the awning “-and I will not rot into dust when we are all free. We all must try to overcome what has happened. There is a new future.”

Gaster felt a twist of pity in his heart. This beautiful, powerful woman should be a master of the skies, flying more freely than any other being…and couldn't.

And then a new voice, a new tone in his mind, whispered, Yet . She can't yet . But she might again someday. 

Shaking himself mentally, he turned to survey her wares. “Have You Caught Any Winds? I Have A…Well, A Date. And It’s Been Disgustingly Hot Lately. I Want Her To Be Comfortable.”

Oh, but the way Origami’s eyes lit up at that. “A date, my dear boy? Ah, ah, I am so happy to hear that.” She turned, reaching under a table and pulling out a heavy wooden box. “You ignore those out on the table, come and look, choose what you'd like. Consider them gifts for my favorite God’s son.”

He tried to demure as she opened the case, “No, Origami I Could N-”

“Hush! Less talking, more looking!”

They were lovely. Of course they were lovely- his mother’s teacher had skill unmatched by any Monster now living. Precious metals, gemstone beads, feathers, bones, scales- a fortune in magical artifacts was laid before him. She touched one with a finger feather, all beautiful mother-of-pearl pieces and mosaic tiles. “An ocean breeze, cool and sweet, captured at a happy festival.” Another. “The gusts before a spring shower, carrying lilac and a nearby bonfire.” A third. “A dry, quick wind, a little dust spinner on the corner of a bakery and a café, who yearned for new places.”

He hesitated, then reached for the second. “This One, Please. At Least Let Me Pay You Origami, This Is Worth Hundreds-”

“Absolutely not.” She wrapped it in paper, then slid it into a bag. “I have not seen you, a member of my family and my last reminder of Cassinni, in months! Let this be a gift. Break it when you are ready, and the breeze will stay with you for at least a few hours before it gets bored. Even longer if you’re doing something entertaining for it to watch.”

Then, before he could stop her, she swiped a few others off the table of her ‘normal charms’ and threw them in as well. “And these for good luck and happiness. I will know if you don't wear them, boy! Give the one with blue feathers to your lady, and say old Origami sends it with love. I can tell you're itching to go to her.”

He couldn't help it- he pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her soft feathers. His cracked voice was soft. “...I'm Sorry I Didn't Visit, Origami. Things Haven't Been…Good.”

She squeezed him back, sympathy in her voice. “My poor boy. They put the world on your shoulders, and ask you to walk straight-backed beneath it.” Sighing, she smoothed her hand over his skull, where he knew the bright afternoon sun made the faint scars visible with her this close. “You deserve happiness. Find it for yourself, and do not let anyone take it from you. This is a second life you have been gifted- your mother’s protections reach far and long. Time is nothing to a Talismanseri.” Leaning back, she peered into his face, her pupils widening as she focused on his features. “Remember her, and do not let this gift be squandered. There will always be another genius. But there will never be another you.”

He smiled softly, touched. “Thank you.”

“And have fun! Shall I also give you a warm night full of music? Perhaps a Beltane evening, fires crackling and couples pairing off-”

“Aunt!” He was blushing as he snatched the bag from her to prevent any of those charms from slipping in. She cackled. “Goodbye, my boy! Have fun! Come and visit me soon, bring your lady along!”

Shaking his head and grinning despite himself, he got back in his car, gave her a last wave, and drove off.

---

After a mollifying promise that he was, of course, still your favorite Skeleton in the world, Papyrus was more than willing to tell you his brother’s favorite treats. You'd already gotten watermelon and pineapple precut yesterday, but felt like showing off a little, and now you had the inside scoop. A berry trifle was easy to make, and caprese sandwiches looked far fancier than they were- apparently he'd picked up a taste for the salad version. Peanut spring rolls added that touch of thai flavor that Papyrus said his brother loved, rounded out by a broccoli pasta salad that was the younger Skeleton's own recipe.

Perhaps it was all a bit fancier than necessary, but who could blame you for wanting to impress the man? You even rummaged out a bottle of red wine that was fancy enough to look boring and plain, hoping it was to his taste. 

As you packed the telescope and cooler bag away in your car, you realized that Gaster actually would have to drive; he was undoubtedly too tall for your little sedan. No problem, you'd meet at his house instead. Then for fun, you grabbed the Polaroid camera you'd been gifted last year but never opened, and the extra set of film that came with it- it never hurt to have an ‘activity’ on a date, in case conversation ran out. And maybe it was silly, but you couldn't stop thinking about what this day had been, six years ago. Perhaps Gaster didn't care a bit now, perhaps he did…you, at least, couldn't forget so easily. Something tangible in his hand and yours, moments made manifest in the form of instant photos…it felt almost like you were planning on making magic charms, each one a bulwark against older, crueler memories. 

When you got to his house, Gaster was so obviously excited to take his car instead that you had to hide a smile- he liked chauffeuring you around, it seemed. He took to driving with one hand on your leg, only letting go to shift; it was delicious to see how large it was compared to you, his thumb touching your knee and his pinky in the crease of your thigh. 

It was a twenty minute drive from his place to your destination. Arriving at the entrance to the Mountain park, on the opposite side of the huge landmark from the Monster’s main concourse, you saw him glance with interest at a sign for the visitor’s center. “Why don't we go look? I haven't seen it in years, and I know the Monster royalty poured a fortune into renovating it, it's practically a museum in its own right now. I think they're open late in summer because of the stargazing park.”

It was a beautiful building, a combination of Monster architecture and human, with large skylights and an enormous parking lot; the area had been slammed with tourists those first few years, until the county had literally put a limit on them due to sheer numbers causing harassment of the Monster people. The front doors were stained glass, emblazoned with the Monster royal crest, the famous Delta Rune. Like you'd seen so many Monsters do before, Gaster stopped for just a moment to touch the three triangles reverently, then opened the door for you. 

It was entirely different now than what you'd seen as a child. Each large room was full of interactive displays, first of human observations and discoveries about the strange phenomena and magnetic anomalies that made mining or even research almost impossible for decades. Then they moved into explanations of the Monster imprisonment, the nature of magic as another fundamental force of reality, and some things about the culture and history of that strange, new race. 

Gaster hummed, bemused. “I Wrote A Lot Of This. I Didn't Even Know What It Was For, One Of A Thousand Projects During Those First Years.”

Touched, you smiled up at him, taking his hand. “You did a good job.”

A park ranger behind the front desk eyed him as the two of you walked by, her brow quirking as she looked him over. You winked at her, and she winked back, mouthing, “Damn.” 

There was an extensive gift shop, mostly full of Monster handicrafts and books, nothing magical, with some park things mixed in. You wandered in to take pictures of the tchotchkes for sale, sending one to Papyrus. He famously loved to collect little bits and bobbles. His answer was immediate- in return for canoodling his brother, he wanted the Mountain Wilderness Guide, a large, thick, hardback book up alone on a shelf. Upon closer inspection, it was made entirely of color photos and encyclopedia entries, and was seemingly the reward for completing a photography challenge- 30 pictures of various plants, animals, natural features and landmarks around the mountain park. Gaster meandered over, seeing what you were looking at. “I Wonder If They'll Accept Phone Pictures?” 

Grinning, you fished the polaroid out of your bag and wiggled it at him. “But this would be more entertaining. Wanna try? Baby brother back home is jealous and wants a present for letting me steal you away.”

He chuckled, looking the camera over and handing it back to you. “Why Not? I Know Very Little About Surface Ecology, It'll Be Fun.”

That settled, both of you grabbed a list of things the challenge required and headed back out to his car. The map said the best place to start was the mid-climb meadow, where a narrow stream tumbled down from a rare mountain spring. Best of all, there was a parking lot right next to it that Gaster pulled into. You didn't mind some exercise, but you hadn't exactly planned on hiking an entire mountain. 

The two of you fell quickly into the fun of hunting for all the different plants and animals you needed a picture of, calling to each other across the wide, gently sloping meadow as you traded the camera back and forth. Gaster stumbled across a nest of sleeping baby hares, using one finger to gently caress the ear of one of the tiny creatures as you watched from a distance. Somehow they didn't even wake to his approach. Then he disappeared for a good ten minutes as you searched for the wild plants red clover and sagebrush, coming back at a trot to ask for the camera. When he returned again, he'd gotten an incredibly close picture of a mother doe and her fawn, curled up under a copse of brambles along the distant tree line. When he spotted something a third time and made off toward it, you followed him, bemused…and soon realized how he was getting such incredible photos.

The man was silent as he moved across the Mountain's surface. 

He was quieter than a whisper, and so light-footed that his footfalls barely bent the brush and tough grasses beneath him. You'd noticed before that his limbs barely weighed anything; that attribute must have extended to his entire body. It was fey and lovely to watch him; you dropped back even further so as not to interfere with your over-loud, human movement. He looked completely at home here, a silent…no, predator wasn't the right word. A silent companion to nature around him, his tall, slight silhouette blending into the shadows as the sun began to set. 

So many bigots claimed that Monsters were unnatural, that magic was strange and otherworldly. Watching this, it made you scoff; Gaster couldn't have been MORE worldly right now, more material and belonging, if he tried. It was beautiful to see him on this ancestral ground. You were the one leaving footprints in the long meadow grass as it slowly bounced back behind you, breaking sticks beneath your feet despite your best efforts to be quiet.

He came loping back, panting, to proudly show you a perfect picture of a lovely little yellow bird on the list, a ‘Golden Finch’ perched on a pine branch. 

You smiled, your heart flipping with an emotion you weren't sure you could bear putting a name to yet, going up on your tiptoes to kiss him. “You're ridiculously good at this! You should do photography, this one in particular, and the one with the deer? People would buy them, they're lovely.”

He blushed a little, glancing away. “Animals Have Always Been At Ease With Me. I Don't Think They Recognize Me As A Living Thing.”

You smiled. “Or maybe they can tell you won't hurt them. After all, they'd be afraid if a drone got close to them, or a robot.” Looping your arm through his, you tugged him toward the parking lot below. “Come on love, let's eat before it gets dark. We found seventeen off the list thanks to you, I only got plants and a dragonfly. We'll have to come back for the rest. I want to move up to the upper parking lot so we can set up the telescope at the summit pavilion.”

He hesitated, then leaned down and returned your kiss softly. “One More. I'll Be Right Back. I Felt Something Earlier.” Tugging the camera from your grip, he trotted off again, making you shake your head in wonder; you literally couldn't hear him move through the grass, it was almost unsettling. How the hell did the humans defeat the Monsters, a thousand years ago? Those Mages must have been disgustingly powerful; or maybe this effect only extended to the Mountain itself. Crawling up on a nearby rock to rest your feet, you picked at a crevice in the stone; a piece of clear crystal glimmered deep within there, where nature and time had cracked the great boulder in half. This time Gaster took longer; the sun had set and you'd gotten your phone out, trying to get a clear picture of the crystals inside the rock using the flash, when his voice came from beside you- “Look!” -so close that you gasped and jumped, nearly falling off your perch.

“Sorry, Sorry!” He caught you with an embarrassed laugh, helping you slide down to your feet as you clutched your chest. “You absolute sneak, good lord I think my heart just fell out of my mouth.”

He tried his best to look contrite, but was too excited to be able to. “I'm Sorry, I Didn't Even Think. A Monster Would Feel Me Coming, I'll Remember Next Time. But Look.” Grinning like a lad, he pulled a polaroid from his pocket, offering it with a bow. 

A young black bear was captured perfectly, sticking its head above a rocky outcropping as it chewed a branch of red berries. Gaster couldn't have been ten feet away when he took the picture; the camera didn't have a “zoom” option or lens on it. Then he pulled something from his other pocket- a tuft of wiry black hair.

“I Might Make Something From It. Shed Fur Can Create Powerful Talismans.”

Shaking your head in awe, you traced a finger over the bear's face; it was so close, you could see a bit of mud around one round ear. “Sweetheart this is a stunning photo.” Then, feeling terribly fond of him, you pulled him down and turned the camera to face the two of you. It had a little mirror to center the photo; you took two in rapid succession, one smooshing your faces together, then one as you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his startled cheek.

“And you should keep those. A bear for two selfies!”

The man blushed such an immediate purple that you had to bite back a giggle, taking the developing pictures from your hand almost shyly. “Oh…Okay. Thank You.”

---

Gaster wasn't a stupid man. His brothers had been poking and prodding him into getting closer to you for months, and he couldn't be more grateful at the result. But he also had a niggling suspicion that maybe, just maybe, something else had been shared with you as well. 

Because this couldn't have been a day more perfectly designed to distract him from what day it was if you'd tried. You were warm, attentive without being overbearing, and sweet and snuggly to the point that he just wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and pull you into his lap in the driver's seat. The pictures you'd taken were tucked into his glove box with more care than he wanted to admit; he'd keep them forever. And now, you were bent over rummaging in a cooler in the trunk…and instead of thinking of that foolish, fateful jump six years ago, all Gaster could think about was how the bottom curve of your rear showed below your shorts. 

Conspiring, pestiferous woman he thought fondly, distantly realizing how strange it was that he felt so unbothered by the possibility of you knowing. But how could he be angry? Either you didn't know…or you did, and had planned an entire night to direct his eye to the stars instead of downwards. How could he possibly be mad?

You surfaced, zipping the cooler closed after resettling its contents, and handed it to him. “Carry!”

He took it dutifully, following you as you carefully carried a large cardboard box up the path behind the parking lot. There were pavilions at the top of the Mountain, softly lit by red-tinted lights, a few human and Monster groups already scattered around. You led him over to one and started unpacking the cooler with your phone flashlight. 

“The lights go out at ten. Wanna have a late dinner quick?”

He nodded; he'd forgotten that humans couldn't see in the dark. Then his heart flipped in his chest as you laid out an entire picnic of things he loved; this was dangerous, uncharted territory, thrilling and exciting with how it made him feel. He was never the type of person to want attention paid to himself, but…you made him like it. It felt nice, coming from you. Your focus, your care.

As you served him and chatted about drama at your work, a new bitchy nurse and a doctor fucking his assistant, he could barely focus on your words. Because Gaster was realizing something, something about his feelings for you, something that felt disconcerting for its newness…something he was terribly afraid to put a name to lest it slip through his fingers, tonight of all nights. So he ate instead, closing his eyes for a moment in appreciation of your skill. Then he put your telescope together as a silly, giddy grin spread across his face unbidden.

The stars were beautiful .

-

Papyrus's birthday came the next evening with a whirlwind of preparation. It had been almost painful to separate the night before; the two of you had lingered, making out like teenagers on the hood of his car in his driveway after you reeled him in, before you finally, reluctantly pulled away to go home. Gaster had barely slept, tracing a fingertip over the two photos you'd given him again and again. Then morning came, and with it, preparations for Alphys's special, secret-but-not-secret fireworks. She'd been working on them for weeks, hiding them in storage rooms and her own office suite on the second floor of the community building. 

He picked the shimmering Spider-silk shirt and black slacks he'd bought, then drove over to begin his guard detail of the community center's store rooms per Alphys's request. You showed up around four to help decorate, delicious in a backless little black dress that made him itch to pull you into a corner and kiss you senseless. It didn't help that Alphys had a veritable cocktail bar in her own office courtesy of her wife, who was busily mixing magical drinks and handing them out on the sly long before the bartenders were scheduled to arrive at 7. He claimed a chair beside the increasingly drunker Kelpie, nursing a spiked juice and keeping an eye on the closet where Alphys' largest creations were. It brought a warm smile to his face to see you and the other royal scientist draped on each other's shoulders, flushed and giggling like old friends as the two of you hid from the growing crowd with him and Undyne for a few minutes- then his smile dropped into a smirk, for Alphys couldn't have been more obviously asking about him if she'd worn a billboard. She was whispering in your ear, glancing over at him as your smile darkened into something hot and exciting. He wondered how much you'd tell. Never breaking eye-contact with him, you turned, murmured a scant few words in her ear, then blew a kiss to him and waltzed off to find some other mischief. 

Meanwhile, Alphys sputtered, and blushed the whole way to her chest, blinking at him for a moment before scurrying off herself- it must have been something good. Undyne laughed lowly, kicking her heels up on her wife's desk and giving him a delightful view of her well-muscled legs. “Well well, aren't you the lucky guy.”

He toasted to that. “The Luckiest.”

The party came in swinging, guests arriving in droves. The King and Queen even stopped by briefly, hugging Papyrus and leaving a veritable mountain of gifts on the table. Gaster stuck to the outskirts with Alphys, neither of them enjoying crowds, as you fluttered between him and Papyrus's table, progressively sillier and more flushed with excitement and drinks. Then Alphys made her stuttering announcement, and the crowd erupted with cheers. Her fireworks were famous among Monsters. He waved to you across the patio and pointed up to the second story balcony; you nodded, waving him ahead in reply.

Finding a padded bench off to the side, he sighed with happiness; it was a good night. His youngest brother was happy, his other brother was lingering near the bar cracking jokes, and you were bouncing up the stairs toward him, pausing for a moment to chat with a passing human friend of Papyrus’s. 

Gaster’s heart warmed when you came and plunked down beside him, kicking off your heels for a minute and watching as the fireworks began. They were a mix of human and magical, starting simple and getting progressively more tricky and magically complex. Some were fully bespelled, animating themselves in the sky into blooming flowers or lapping waves, and your little gasps and murmurs were terribly sweet in his ears as the maker out did herself again and again.

When one in particular exploded, then coalesced into a large, red dragon that swooped over the hillside and facility, you actually clapped in excitement, tapping his arm a few times with glee as if to make sure he was watching.

Then, realizing what you'd done, you blushed and turned your face back up to the sky, squeezing your hands together in your lap. “Oh gosh, sorry, it was a reference to a book I love, I think. The Lord of the Rings, it's…old. Probably kiddish for you.”

Gaster smiled. 

He didn't try to compete with the noise of the crowd, but instead, murmured under it. “The Lights Went Out. A Great Smoke Went Up. It Shaped Itself Like A Mountain Seen In The Distance, And Began To Glow At The Summit…It Spouted Green And Scarlet Flames.”

You turned to face him sharply, your eyes bright and wide, a wondering look on your face. 

His voice was not lovely as it once was, deep and strong. Once, he’d been called a beautiful storyteller. But you were enraptured all the same, and that touched him somewhere warm and secret and lovely. 

“Out Flew A Red-Golden Dragon - Not Life-Size, But Terribly Life-Like: Fire Came From His Jaws, His eyes Glared Down; There Was A Roar, And He Whizzed Three Times Over The Heads Of The Crowd.”

He stared up at the fireworks- didn't dare turn to look at you, feeling a bit shy…and then your hand tucked itself under his. 

“Even…hurt…as it is, you have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard.” As you so often did, you dropped your volume to match his. “I wish I could have heard you sing, if you did.”

“...I Did.”

Your hand turned under his, and you laced your fingers with his own; he squeezed yours gently, giddiness racing around in his chest from the simple pleasure of your touch.

“I'll just have to imagine it, then.”

Then you curled your feet up on the bench beside you, scooted over a little bit, and leaned your head on his arm…and Gaster threw all hesitation and caution to the wind despite the public view, blown away by your affection as usual and so eager for it that his breath caught. Sliding down a bit on the bench, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tucked you in against his side; you turned your head into his chest and inhaled there, as if admiring his cologne. 

Unseen by you, his eyes watered for a moment before he forced the emotion back down, smiling up at the sky with trepidation as it exploded with color and light, realizing something terribly, deeply profound. Something he'd felt for the first time yesterday, and had been too scared to name.

It…wasn't as painful a thought as he braced himself for. ‘Depression…can be defined, as a state of inverse expectation’ you'd said, two months ago. Perhaps there was something good and wholesome changing within him, then, that his mind didn't race to fear the absolute worst as it always did, always trying to prepare itself for extreme disappointment and loss. 

It would come, probably. Such thoughts always did for him, and he weathered them as best as he could. But here at this moment? As you nuzzled your face ever so slightly into his shirt and stroked the inner ring of his palm with your fingers? 

The darkness was kept at bay. 

She is kind….intelligent, and caring beyond measure. Interested in many of the same things I am. Beautiful and precious in my arms. 

Angel above, help me. 

I think I'm a bit in love with her.

It was something he'd known echoes of before, but nothing had prepared him- no book, no gossip, no old song or friendly word of advice -for how simple it felt. Clean and happy, like a drawer of well-folded clothes. He loved you, and the sun would rise tomorrow, and the trees would continue to grow. Life was as it was meant to be.

Did you feel the same for him? Obviously there was some affection there, for you were soft and sweet in his grasp, smiling up into his face when he glanced down at you. Then the fireworks were over, and the music was beginning again, and you were sliding away from him easily, standing from your seat and stepping instead between his legs. 

“I don't want to leave,” and oh didn't that feel good to hear? “I hate to leave. But I promised I would go sing happy birthday to Papyrus, and Jess said they were gonna serve the cake right after the fireworks.” You pointed down at the patio below, where Papyrus sat surrounded by friends.

If anything, that only made him care for you more. He raised his hands, sparing his aching throat- he shouldn't have spoken so much throughout the day, but it was worth it.

“Go. He'll be so happy. I'll be around.”

You nodded. Then, with a sudden urgency, you leaned in…and kissed him, earning a whoop of excitement from a few nearby Monsters. The feeling of your lips, insistent and surprisingly needy, made him shiver hard enough that you must have felt it. Lingering, you took a breath, and traced your nose down to the join of his jaw, your lips the softest whisper as they followed behind.

“Okay.” 

You straightened, wavering a little for balance in your heels, and he caught you instinctively with his palm behind the small of your back, bare and exposed in your dress. Your lips parted just the tiniest bit, a hand coming to rest on his chest, and the breath left him in a huff as your gaze flickered from his eyes, to his lips, to his body, and back again. 

Oh. Oh. You wanted another kiss…and more, besides. Just the thought made him flush with desire.

“You look amazing tonight…maybe you should come over to my place afterward?”

Well that was as obvious as it could be. He grinned, nodding. Then someone called your name from down below, making you smile ruefully, the moment broken for the time being. Or perhaps not broken. Just…paused.

“Don't go far,” you murmured, cupping his cheek with your hand for just a second. “I'm too far gone to drive, I need my big handsome man to give me a ride.”

He leaned into the touch, then turned his head, boldly pressing a kiss to your palm. “I won't.”

You trotted away, and Gaster bounced his leg with impatience, tacitly ignoring the excited whispers around him. Soon a bawdy rendition of the birthday song rang out; he went to the balcony railing and raised his glass to his brother, who stuck his tongue out in reply, smiling broadly. Behind him, you glanced up at Gaster...and winked. 

Notes:

These two, I swear. Happy Fuck The Brits day yall, unless you're a brit, in which case happy Dumbass Americans Day?

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 9: Self Care and Relaxation

Notes:

Gratuitously romantic and vivid erotica ahead, buyer beware 💙

The party ended nicely, with everyone unanimously agreeing to forget about cleaning up anything until at least tomorrow. Papyrus was sloshed up to his eyeballs, heading off with Undyne and some other friends for karaoke, while you lingered near Gaster, so obviously interested in him that it made him clumsy and fumbling. He and Alphys shared a last cigarette; as she lit them both, she whispered “One l-last night…and then back to hell.”

Nodding, he took a deep draw, inwardly smiling- she always lost her stutter almost completely when she drank. “One Last Night. I Suppose We Should Both Try Not To Think About It Until The Morning.”

She smirked. “And your try-not-to-think-about-it seems v-very eager to help you with that. She's practically prowling. Mine is off having fun at Grillby's.”

He sniffed, faking offense. “Perhaps Mine Simply Enjoys My Wit And Humors.” 

That didn't even warrant an answer, just a single cocked brow that made him grin in reply. He reflected, as he so often did, on how lucky he was to have this brilliant woman working with him; people chronically underestimated Alphys, mistaking shyness and a stutter for stupidity. Yet she'd bloomed so beautifully since the fall of the barrier, coming into her own as Their Majesties put more and more employees beneath her. He hoped her brilliance would be enough to carry them through these next few miserable weeks, for he truly didn't know what else to do himself…no. 

One more night. He didn't have to think about it for one more night. 

Sans bumped him with his shoulder on his way by, wiggling his fingers at Alphys as he turned on the spot and vanished. He knew it made Gaster grind his teeth with frustration that he couldn't do the same thing, and so of course he showed off the skill as often as possible. 

Smoke break finished, he parted from Alphys with a wave, searching for you and a glass of water. He was fine to drive home, barely tipsy, and your earlier invitation burned at the back of his mind like an ember, filling his imagination. You'd looked so stunning all night, lovely in simple black, and had fluttered back to his side over and over after the fireworks. At one point, you'd asked him about his office in the community center, your eyes so molten that Gaster nearly carried you up himself…only to be distracted by a group of Monsters asking after an embarrassing tale of Papyrus they'd heard. Later, you'd cornered him behind a wall of bushes and kissed him like you were desperate, whispering how badly you wanted him in his ear as he sucked a hickey on your neck and ground himself roughly against you. You'd worn your hair down the rest of the night to cover it, which only served as a constant reminder. 

Finally, finally you both could leave. Friends had been assuaged, shoes found, and he was nearly bursting with eagerness. Gaster could barely focus on the drive to your house, so turned on and eager was he to touch you; you'd left your car at the community center, slyly whispering in his ear that you'd taken his marked directors spot. He'd rewarded you with a gentle slap on the ass. Then he considered doing it harder, for the look you gave him at that was one absolutely full of promise. 

Sans had stolen a lovely bottle of fine wine for you when the bartenders weren't looking, a twenty-year Sauternes that Gaster was itching to try. It was currently sitting on your lap, the bottleneck between your breasts, and he faintly wondered how it would taste dripped over your nipples and into his waiting mouth; undoubtedly sweeter, for sure. Then he nearly laughed aloud at himself- what the hell was wrong with him? Did his brain finally give up, swapping responsibilities with his dick? Ah, well. Worse things could happen. 

He finally got you to your place in one piece, helping your tipsy self out of the car. The grass of your back yard was soft and lush as you locked the gate on your high fence behind you. He'd expected to go right inside, but you guided him over to a swinging bench under an old oak, grabbing two wine glasses and a corkscrew from your little outdoor dry sink area as you passed. 

“The fireflies are beautiful. Can we enjoy them for a few minutes?”

Smiling, he nodded. It was a lovely night, made more so by the spring breeze he secretly summoned, snapping Origami's charm in his breast pocket. He felt…sensitive, his body yearning toward you, eager to feel your pleasure against himself in an unhurried way. 

Then you uncorked the bottle, pouring him and yourself a generous glass, then another…and Gaster couldn't be happier. It was delicious, sweet and so smooth it felt like liquid silk. You'd turned on soft music from your phone, a Monster artist this time, and he let his head fall against the tall back of the swing with a sigh of contentment as his belly warmed agreeably.

Tomorrow he returned to stress and strife, an impossible project to save his people. But for tonight, at least, he could have peace.

You had slid off your shoes and draped a light sweater over your shoulders in the car; now you let it slither to the bench beside you, your skin glimmering in the beautiful moon and starlight above. Some time passed in peaceful silence, before you giggled out of nowhere, making him cock an eyebrow. 

“Oh nothing, nothing. I was just thinking that this is probably how you seduced all sorts of beautiful ladies; lucky girls we all are. Whispering sweet nothings, then driving us home with fancy wine. It's very effective, a-plus! Ignore that I'm the one who invited you over, it ruins the whole notion.”

That made him chuckle. “Even In My Younger Years, My Words Bought Me Few Favors. I’m Better With My Hands." And then he snorted, realizing what his inebriated lips had said. But how could he resist, with you so close to his side that he could feel your warmth? So close he could but lean down a scant few inches and press his cheek to your soft hair.

Your smile was hot and lovely, your eyes flicking from his face to his hands, and back again. Then, brazenly, you took a second look at him, dragging from the top of his head to his crossed leg, before glancing away as you took another drink, your voice honey smooth. "Oh, I can believe it."

Gaster watched as you chased a drop of wine with your tongue, curling the sweet liquid back between your plush little lips like a cat with cream, and ran his own tongue behind his teeth. This was beyond hinting into blatant, dirty flirtation, he could feel it fluttering in your Soul; desire, interest, enjoyment of his company and a want for something more.

You turned back, sitting your drink down on the table beside the padded swing to prop your elbow on the back and your cheek in your hand, your eyes hazy and interested. "That color suits you. Your shirt, I mean. You should wear something other than black more often, though it does look great on you."

He felt himself blush, leaning toward you despite himself. "Thank You."

You were so close. Inches away from his face, your smile fading slowly away to something darker and richer as you gazed up at him and tucked your hand under his. The glittering shimmer of whatever makeup you'd worn on your lips drew his eye like a siren song, especially when you bit them slightly.

"I Want To Kiss You."

That won him a delightfully heated look. "Oh..." You turned fully toward him on the bench, tucking your knees to the side. "Then you should." He moved slowly, the world slightly spinning around him- he couldn't shut himself up, even as he got close enough to whisper inanely against your lips, like a secret, "And I'm Afraid I'm Terribly Drunk."

Thank all the gods that you were fond of him, for you only giggled. "Me too." You paused, hesitating but not moving away. "Does that mean you don't want to?"

Gaster shook his head, feeling giddy and young- this was far less graceful than any of his seductions had ever been, and all the sweeter for it. "Only That I'm Brave Enough To Say What I Want." He cupped a hand under your chin to hold you in place, half-afraid you'd run away and half-afraid he'd run away. "I'm Such A Terrible Coward With It All Now...I Don't Know What Happened To Me. I Wasn't Always…Like This."

"Sweetheart..." Your face filled with sympathy, then affection. "We'll just have to encourage the habit, then." 

Gaster smiled as your eyes fluttered closed, your words a murmur at the memory. "God, that night when I was over and we played chess? I couldn't focus, you were so handsome. All I could think about was kissing you, how it would feel."

"...Did You Now?"

"Don't you think we'd better make up for lost time?"

So he did, tilting his head and pressing his lips to your incredibly plush, waiting ones. He tried to keep it delicate, soft and undemanding at first...but he felt the breath catch in your throat, felt it stutter from your nose, and Gaster lost his inhibitions. The alcohol made him brave, cut away that constant, nagging voice in his head of what-ifs, and he pulled back for a moment, caught his bearings, then kissed you like he fucking wanted to.

Pressing and insistent, desire and stifled want howling behind his lips, only released a few times prior; it was never enough, he could never get enough, no matter how much of you he tasted. He wrapped his other hand around the back of your neck and wound his fingers in your hair, realizing he was tugging only when you gasped into his mouth, your hands coming up to clutch at his shirt...but you didn't try to escape his grip. Instead, it melted you, making you pliant and hot in his grasp, your lips parting on a pant. 

He bit back a groan as you boldly ran your tongue along his, the feeling shooting straight down his spine and between his legs, his magic pooling hot and insistent. It made him feel restless and needy, and he released your hair to reach for your shoulders thoughtlessly, wanting to feel your weight in his hands. You gasped as he tugged you over, but moved with him as eagerly as could be, settling on his lap with your thighs spread wide on either side of his, your knees sinking into the cushion. And then you both paused, staring at each other for a moment as Gaster realized what he'd done.

"Uh, Sorry, I-"

You put a finger to his lips.

"Why?"

Your smile was an invitation; you leaned in, kissing him this time, punctuating your questions with the press of your lips again and again, your breath warm and inviting. "Why are you sorry? Why should you feel bad?"

Then you leaned back, taking his hands from where they'd settled on your waist, covering them with your own and sliding them up your body, up to your breasts. "Why do you think I wouldn't want this? Didn't I want you before...don't you think I want you right now?"

He had no answer to that, his mind empty and blank save for the feeling of you under his hands. You leaned in and boldly kissed his cheek, then dragged your mouth across his jaw, his neck, making him gasp with the little shocks of pleasure you left behind. Then, smiling against him, you nibbled oh so very gently on the side of a vertebrae as you let your hips drop, a slow grind of the join of your thighs against his hard length where it strained against his pants, and he growled with how good it felt, his head spinning.

Your voice was a breathless murmur. "Can you feel how bad I want you? Does that prove it?"

God he could, the thin gusset of your panties humid and slipping with it as it dragged over his fly. " Fuck Girl, What Are You Doing To Me?"

You giggled, wiggling as he ran his thumbs over the cloth-covered peaks of your tits, admiring how they tightened under his touch. "Something I desperately need." Leaning in, you kissed above his eye, so gently it made him tremble for a moment, then leaned down to whisper in his ear, "Something I know you need, too…so why don't you tell me what you really want?”

He looked into your open, honest eyes...and told the truth. 

"I Want To See You Cum Again. I Want To Feel It."

Your lips dropped open, your thighs quivering around his. "Then touch me. God, I've been so turned on all night-" 

It was all sweet, frantic movement then. He was breathless, desperate for the feel of you as he slid his hands up and under your dress, pushing it out of the way and shoving your bra up so he could weigh your bare breasts in his hands- you swore, high and breathy, whispering, "Oh my god, this is so dirty, we're outside…somebody could come by…"

Gaster chuckled, flexing his hips up into you as he pulled you down by his grip on your breasts; he could have groaned with how warm you were, so easily accessible in your short little dress, and his body yearned upwards. He'd have felt if someone got within five hundred yards of your house, and the fence was high and solid besides, but there was still something tantalizing and delicious about being so exposed. Leaning forward, he half kissed, half dragged his open mouth down your neck, sucking bruises into the skin for the pleasure of seeing them the next day as he worried at your nipples with his thumbs and forefingers until you squeaked. 

"Oh, Gaster honey, please ..."

He nodded, kissing you as he dragged one hand down your belly and below the waistband of your panties, delighted at your desperation. "I Have You...I Have You."

The silky wetness surprised him; it was only the second time he'd felt it, after all. What fun human women were, organic and physical and so very real, your body preparing itself to be spread open rather than spreading itself as your magic would demand it to if you were a Monster. It made him groan, the knowledge that he would be the thing that opened you wide, that his fingers, his tongue, his cock would mould you to fit. And then he slid a finger into you and swore deep in his chest, because you were tight as a vice.

"Fucking Hell Woman...I Can Barely Fit A Finger In You."

Moaning, you let your head fall onto his shoulder. "It's been awhile…”

That made him laugh with delight, loving the thought that he was the one to touch you, that there'd been no one else for some time. Oh you were lovely, so impossibly soft inside. The finest silk couldn't hold a candle to you. He added a second finger, feeling along your walls with interest, learning you. One spot in particular, a rougher patch on the uppermost part, near your fluttering entrance, made you stutter and grab his wrist; not stopping him, just bracing yourself. At least your body was shaped like most female Monsters he'd been with, save for a few of the more...esoteric ones. Using what he'd learned before on your kitchen counter, he slid free of you, hissing as your pussy clenched around him, trying to pull him back in- fuck that was erotic -and circled his touch to find your swollen little clit, earning himself a whimper in his ear as he drew slow lines over it. 

"Do You Like That?"

"Yesss ...please don't stop..."

He kissed your temple, pinching and pulling your nipples with one hand while he played with you with the other. His tongue was unbound by desire and drink, all the things he wanted to say but usually couldn't spilling out like an offering at an altar. "I Won't...I Won't Stop, You're So Hot...God, Look At You Like This, I Could Fuck You For Hours..."

"Ah..."

Grinning like the devil, he sped his movements, trying different angles until he found one that made you not moan, or shake your hair back to look lovely and sexy for him, but instead stilled you, your nails suddenly digging into his shoulders as you went quiet.

There we go.

Your soft sound, when it finally came free from your tight throat, was as broken as his voice, your breath shuddering in and out "Oh, o-hhhh...yes, like that..."

He wished the position would allow him to finger you with his other hand at the same time, because holy fuck he was willing to bet that this would feel incredible from the inside- he could already tell your body was clenching and fluttering, empty and yearning to be filled with something.

Next time, he thought drunkenly toward your sex. Next time. I'll fuck you so well, I promise. But let me ease your mistress into this first…and myself as well.

He hissed as you got audibly wetter, the sound so erotic he felt a warring need to continue, because he could tell you were close and he needed to see your face when you came, but also ferociously wanting to taste what he could just barely scent across the roof of his mouth, his lips parted and panting with want as he touched you. It was delicious, your intoxicating siren song of desire and phantom taste floating on the air, and he wondered dizzily if you'd let him eat you out- was that something humans did?

Your toes curled against the sides of his knees, your back bowing, your breath coming higher and tighter in your chest...and he was rocking with you now, grinding his clothed cock up against your entrance as he sketched fast lines over your clit, a wet spot spreading on the dark material of his pants...

He felt the change the moment it happened, your hips bucking madly. "Fuck, yes, yes, I'm...I..."

His groan echoed yours, leaving your abused nipple with his other hand to wrap it around your shoulders, holding you to him as you shook and cried out. Yours were deliciously visceral orgasms, a flush rising in your cheeks and chest, a tremble deep in your body as your thighs jerked and bounced with his hand.

"Oh, oh ...Gaster, G... ah!..."

He groaned, licking a broad stripe up the side of your neck. "Come On, That's It...I Love Hearing My Name Like This..."

Stretching out your pleasure, he stilled his hand only when you whined and shoved at his wrist. Then he was content to hold you for a few minutes, stroking his palms down your back as you caught your breath...before being caught tremendously by surprise as you grabbed your sweater off the bench beside him, tossed it carelessly to the grass, and shakily slid from his lap to your knees atop it as you pulled your dress off and threw it up beside him.

"Um?" Caught speechless and desperately horny, he could only watch with lord knew what expression on his face as you reached out and smoothed your hands down his thighs, then undid the button and fly of his slacks neatly. You looked like sin itself, your face flushed, your hair loose and wild, your breasts bouncing over the top of your bra topped by bright pink nipples, and a tiny black pair of panties askew from his hand.

"Let me, please let me, I want-"

He felt punch-drunk, dizzy and panting as you manhandled his pants open enough to free his cock, rock-hard and practically pulsing in time with his Soul. 

---

God he was delicious; some men just had the tastiest looking cocks. You wondered if it was purposeful pride or subconscious identity, that his magic shaped itself like this; long, thick, and uncut. Then you had to bite back a giggle, because you were still throbbing with the remnants of orgasm and you couldn't get a hand around him, and the thought occurred that you might need to start a goddamned stretching regimen if you were going to fit this monster inside you someday. Hopefully someday soon .

Leaning forward, you licked a broad stripe up the shaft, lingering with your tongue just under the head as you glanced up at him. He was slack jawed and flushed, holding himself at the root with his thumb and forefinger. When you saw him squeeze, you realized he was trying not to cum just from the sight of you alone. 

Smirking, you slid your tongue under the edge of his foreskin, wanting desperately to see him lose that control. It made him choke, releasing himself to let his head fall back, covering his eyes with that arm as his other hand came down to lightly hold your hair. "Christ, Woman..."

Giggling, you did it again; you'd never done this with an uncut cock before (especially not a glowing purple one, your tipsy brain supplied helpfully), but you'd heard they were more sensitive- did that carry over magically?

Or maybe it was just that Gaster was terribly sensitive as a whole. Because the slow circling of your tongue was enough to make him grip your hair harder; when you sucked gently at just the tip, his hips jumped, filling your mouth to your throat before you were ready for it. 

You pulled back, swallowing a gag. "Easy cowboy, let me get used to this giant thing before you throw it around like that."

He snorted, grinning as he peeked through his fingers at you. "Oh Stop, It's Not That Big-"

You smacked his leg. "Shut the absolute fuck up, you're insane if you think that's true." Winking up at him, you leaned in, feeling filthy and loving how reactive he was. When you tucked your chin against his pelvis, christ, it was as long as your chin to the top of your head. The biggest you would have ever taken in your life, when the two of you finally reached that point, hopefully someday soon. "Now hush, let me have fun."

He slouched down a bit further, spreading his thighs as far as his pants would allow. "Yes, Ma'am."

Smiling delightedly at his obedience, you lipped up the underside of his shaft, then took him in your mouth, humming with pleasure at the warm tingle of his magic and the way he groaned, deep in his chest. It was obvious that he wouldn't last, sensitive and jumping at every touch, and it was so endearing that you wanted to reward him for it. So you worked your way down, making yourself ignore the way his thickness made you gag a little until you grew used to it. It was a delicious chore; your jaw was sore by the time you'd gotten three quarters of him in, but he moaned so beautifully when you opened your eyes and gazed up at him that you could easily ignore it.

"Fuck, Fuck Yes, Shit..."

Smiling around him, you pulled back off, and murmured, "I can't get deeper like this, you're too long...but if we can find something I can lay back on that's tall enough for you, something I can hang my head off backwards..." Then you licked him like a popsicle, waiting for him to realize what you were implying; it took a few moments for the idea to get through his pleasure-drunk brain before he groaned, loud and uninhibited, his fingertips scraping across your scalp as he gripped you harder. 

"Filthy Girl, Good God Are You Trying To Kill Me?" Oh he sounded sinful now, his voice so deep it was nearly sub-vocal. You fluttered your tongue beneath the head, sucking gently at that sensitive spot until his heels drummed for a moment on the grass. “Focus doctor, this is important research we're talking about here. Where-” you punctuated your words by taking him back between your lips, languid swallows of his length that soon had him nearly whimpering each time you pulled off.

“-could we find something tall enough-” oh god he was delicious, this was turning you on all over again, so vocal and masculine and desperate-

“-for you to feed this beautiful cock the entire way down my throat? Just think-” a long, loud slurp made him swear, panting 

“-you'd be able to see the magic shine from inside, see how deep you were…”

He broke, nearly looking like he was about to start weeping from desire, “Please, Please, Evil Tease, I Need…Fuck, Please Let Me Cum, I Want To See You Take It.”

He hadn't been lying before, when he said he liked hearing you talk dirty to him- he was nearly frantic, loking feverish and blown away with want. How could you deny him, when he asked so sweetly? You closed your hand around his in your hair; instantly he tried to let go, then his breath stuttered when he realized you were squeezing his fingers, not pulling them free. “You can tug a little…show me how you want this baby, go ahead, fuck my mouth.”

He blinked at you for just a moment, before a dirty, lop-sided grin spread across his face. Then, far more gently than you'd expected, he began thrusting up into your lips, using his grip on your hair to gently pull you down, to hold you and keep your mouth in place as his hips worked. 

You were so wet within moments that it made you moan; if it was anything at all like this, the man fucked like he was made for it. The slide of his cock back and forth across your tongue, the gentle glide across the back of your throat- all you could think about was feeling that inside your almost painfully-empty pussy, prior orgasm completely forgotten. Your jaw ached terribly, your lips were pulled tight around his width, and Gaster soon took your head in both hands, his own hanging back as he panted louder and louder, finally starting to fuck up into you properly as pleasure made him lose his inhibitions.

“I-I’m So Close, Where Do You Want Me To Finish? Do Humans-” Nodding, you pushed yourself a little further down his cock in answer, and Gaster went absolutely insane from it. You had to steady yourself with your hands on his thighs as he cried out with each thrust, little broken noises spilling from his lips.

“Oh Fuck Oh Fuck, I…I'm…Oh God, God!”

You could feel it start, amazingly, in his bones themselves. A resonating vibration as his body pooled magic and transmuted it, getting stronger as it neared his cock, which swelled a bit in your mouth. 

He released your hair, his eye squeezing shut as he collapsed back, giving himself over completely to pleasure as a blush so dark it turned his cheeks violet rose in his face. Not meeting your eye, still embarrassed to ask you for things, he moaned, “Pl-Please Suck It Out Of Me, God You Feel So Good…I Can Cum So Much More For You If You Make Me…More Than On My Own...”

Your eyes widened. It might have been the single hottest thing you'd ever heard in your entire life, the dirtiest thing you'd ever heard a man say aloud. That you could extend his pleasure, his orgasm, by demanding more from his body? You were ruined, there was no other man like this in the world. Panting with want and absolutely fucking desperate to do what he'd asked for, you pulled back enough to comfortably wrap your lips around his cock rather than swallowing it; his hand came down to work the shaft for just a moment, and then the second you felt that first warm burst over your tongue, you started sucking him insistently, demandingly, rubbing your tongue back and forth under the head as you did.

It was quite possibly the most handsome, sexual, beautiful thing you'd ever seen. Gaster was so lost to it that he was limp, a groan climbing to a whine in his throat as his cock began to pulse in long, thick waves of pleasure and he petted your hair and the back of your neck like he adored you. His thighs shook hard enough that you had to hold them down, and that seemed to elicit something in him so hot and desperate that he cried out your name…still cumming. 

It was incredible, and it was so much- you hoped you wouldn't get an upset stomach or something, flavorless and tingling with magical warmth as you glanced up and saw tears of overwhelm coming from Gaster's eye as he watched you desperately. And he was right; seemingly, his body would continue dragging him kicking and screaming into more and more overwhelming pleasure as long as you continued to demand more. Each time you felt him pulse between your lips you sucked gently, and another long load churned out, his body eager to please you and give exactly what you were asking it for- more cum. 

You didn't want to traumatize the poor man, though someday you promised yourself that you'd truly figure out how long he really could have a single orgasm without stopping, so you started to gentle him, slowing your lips and tongue. Instantly his body followed suit, and it was oddly touching. Monsters were so beautiful, empathic in every magical way, bending and shifting to fit with those around them. It was something to remember for the future, just how much your very desires and presence could affect them. Of course you'd learned about Determination and intention at your classes, but it was one thing to learn, and another to see the proof nearly convulsing beneath you. 

You brought him down as easily as you could, then just rested your head on his thigh, holding his probably painfully sensitive, slowly softening cock safely in your mouth as you hugged him around the waist. It must have been a good twenty or thirty seconds before he caught his breath enough to do more than lay back, fight to catch his breath and shiver; he was as weak as a kitten as he tugged at you, wanting you to come back up into his arms. His member dissipated the moment you released it with a kiss, fading into purple sparkles that reabsorbed into the bone of his pelvis; it took a moment for your thighs to remember how to stand. In a rather ungraceful crawl, you scrambled up into his lap, hugging him and tucking your face into his neck as he wrapped his arms around you. 

You noticed there was a violet tear on his face, but whether it was just from pleasure and overwhelm, or also emotion, you didn't know. So you chose not to draw more attention to it than to kiss his cheek gently, once. Then you returned to hiding your face in his cervical spine and catching your breath yourself. 

His voice was a broken wreck when it came, rough to the point of sounding painful, yet so soft and sweet for its sincerity. “I Am So Sorry For How I Treated You, The First Day We Met. I've Regretted It Every Moment Since. But Never More Than Now; You Give So Freely To Me. Care So Deeply For Me…”

You smiled. “Hush. Your throat is shot, don't hurt yourself. And…I forgive you. Forgave you. I know now how bad, how incredibly, miserably stressful your work is.” Unbidden, tears came into your eyes, making your words catch wetly. “God I wish I could help you. I know you have to go back in tomorrow, and I feel paralyzed by how little I can do.”  A rare, cool summer night wind blew unusually over your almost nude form, but Gaster kept you warm, covering your back with his broad hands protectively. “E-everything I know, everything I've learned, absolutely worthless to help this man I care so much about.” A little noise of sadness shook your chest; it had been an emotional night, you were still plenty tipsy, and the subject had kept you from sleeping on many occasions. “I'm so sorry, here I am acting like this when you're the one who has to deal with it…” 

He squeezed you, pressing you against himself as he buried his face in your shoulder and rocked you both gently on the swing. “That You Care, That You Worry For Me…” You tried to hush him as he stopped to turn away and cough, but he shook his head. “I Can Face It Down, Knowing You're With Me.” His Soul was glowing so brightly in his chest that you could see it shining up through his shirt. 

“Of course I'm with you. I…I care so much about you, Gaster.” Post-orgasm hormones and the knowledge of what your man had to return to in the morning were making you a bit weepy- all night at the party, Monsters had whispered about the shortages, about his work, and if he'd be able to pull one more miracle out of his pockets. It had been impossible to ignore. “It's all I can do…care about you, and pray that a path opens forward.”

The shift of his hands around you were all the warning you got before he stood, fluidly shifting his grip to carry you under the shoulders and knees. It made you gasp, the effortless strength of Monsters always surprising, and then he was carrying you inside on unsteady legs, a spectral hand opening the back door. He laid you down in your bed with infinite care, smoothing your hair back, an emotion so powerful behind his eyes that it could only be one thing. It made you reach for him; he clumsily unbuttoned his shirt, toed off his shoes, and climbed into your waiting embrace. 

He loves me. 

And I think I'm starting to love him. 

“Stay here, stay the night. Stay whenever you want to. Come over after work, I'll be here, to make things easier as best as I can.”

Unseen, for you were tucked snuggly into his chest, Gaster's face pulled tight in a single moment of silent emotion at your words. A tear squeezed from his eye to trail down his cheek and chin, down to the top of your head, as he fought to make his voice steady. 

“O-Okay. Then I Will.”

Notes:

*insert James McAvoy Wanted sweating gif*

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Comments and kudos make writer fingers type faster 😉

Chapter 10: Seeking Aid

Notes:

The song on the radio in Gaster's car is "Cyberpunk- I Really Wanna Stay At Your House"

It was around six in the morning, judging by your bleary glance at your phone, when Gaster asked for your keys; Sans was going to teleport to your house to get them, and bring your car over as a favor. When he returned with it, you heard the two brothers talking lowly through your bedroom door for a few minutes, and then Gaster came back in to clutch you so tight it was hard to breathe for a few more…

…and he sounded like he was going to a funeral when he finally said he had to go. That woke you up a little. You did your best to comfort him, holding him as he hid his face in your chest wordlessly.

“Wish Us…Luck.”

You nodded, heartbroken for the battered look on his face  “I do. All the luck in the world.”

And then he was gone.

Having gotten into the habit of talking to Gaster every day, it was upsetting when you didn't hear back from him the next day…or the next, or the next. No matter how miserable his day was, he usually at least said good morning and good night.

When Thursday night at seven rolled around with still nothing, you bit back your pride and texted Papyrus.

‘Hey…is everything okay?’

You certainly weren't expecting the immediate call you got from an unknown number to be Sans…and you really weren't expecting his request. 

“hey, hope your night’s goin’ well. you free?”

You blinked, exhausted; you'd just changed out of your work clothes, the VA holding you longer than usual. “Um, well, I guess-”

“-great. wanna try teleporting?”

“Sorry, what?”

“be there in ten, gonna take you into the lab here.”

Oh. 

Oh no.

“Alright, but hey hold up, how much of like…a catastrophe do I need to be prepared for?”

He sighed. “not like the one you're thinking. we're just…all at the ends of our ropes. and i can't get rid of him, and no one else can go home if he doesn't. also, pap told me to tell you that gaster broke his phone monday night by accident and asked pap to let you know…but he forgot. and he's really sorry.”

Well that was a better reason than what you'd imagined. You'd been picturing an ugly breakup, or being ghosted entirely. It made you sag with relief.

“Christ…okay, that's good.” You put him on speaker as you pulled your bra back on and searched for a decent top.

Sans chuckled lowly- he had a handsome voice, you thought to yourself. Much like Gaster's, only slightly higher and full of humor. “oh man, that must've freaked you out. baby bro's been hungover for like three days straight, i'll give him shit when i get home for forgetting. and g hasn't had the chance to go to the phone store as far as i know- he slept here the last three nights. but he's not ignoring you. in fact, you're just about the only other thing he talks about, the few times he talks about anything other than…all of this.”

Hopping to pull on a pair of leggings, you sighed. “Things aren't good, I take it?”

His voice was grim. “things are bad as fuck. we've tried…everything. the consultant from the state university just left, head of their ag department. nothing.”

That made your heart sink. “Oh shit…”

“yeah. so anyway, you ready yet?”

You fished a sandal out from beneath the bed with your toe. “Yup.”

And then you screamed so loud that your voice broke, nearly tripping over your own bed, as his voice came from directly fucking behind you in the doorway.

“great, let's g-”

“Motherfucker DON'T DO THAT!!!”

He blanched, holding his hands up contritely. His only other outward sign of anything other than apologetic good humor was his leg, bouncing slightly as he shifted his weight back and forth. That made you pause mid-scold, even though you were clutching your chest and panting- it was exactly what Gaster did when he was horribly upset about something.

“oh shit, really, really sorry. my bad. i genuinely didn't think about it, sometimes magic just…does its own thing. kinda embarrassing, not gonna lie, i haven't accidentally teleported in years.”

You nodded, staring at the ceiling for a moment as your heart slowed. “...christ…alright, hey, all good. No harm done. Grab my purse off the couch?”

He glanced behind himself, out the door of your bedroom. “out in the living room?”

“Yup.”

“k.”

You put your hair up fast as he went out, then came back with the strap over his hand. “your glories look great. ready to go?” He offered his hand. 

Nodding, you took it…

…and everything changed.

You were standing in a lobby area, the walls made of beautifully laid gray stone imbedded with lighter pieces to form decorative patterns. Long padded benches of various heights and sizes were scattered amongst potted plants and wooden tables covered in magazines, with several sets of doors on each wall. 

It was so bizarre that you lost your balance for a moment- Sans, seemingly prepared for this, shifted your hand up to his shoulder. “give it a second. it's the opposite of vertigo. you moved, but your body didn't feel it, so it's trying to recalibrate in case something is wrong.”

Your voice was weak. “I thought it would feel like something…like falling, or anything.”

He smiled, patting your wrist. “nope. cut and paste. don't sit down, don't close your eyes- makes it worse. look around and force your mind to accept it.”

A few minutes passed. Hesitantly, you let go of him- your legs were wobbly, but got steadier by the second as you let your hand fall to your side. “Damn. That must be so fun, dude.”

Turning away from you, he grinned over his shoulder. “it is. come on.”

Now that you were paying attention to something other than your roaring ears, it was odd…despite the loveliness of the architecture, going into the damned facility was like walking into a funeral. At first, it was all amazing to see; technology combining with magic in a way that looked more fantastical than the most skilled human CGI artist or set designer could imagine for a movie. 

Machinery of unimaginable application. Self-suspending liquids and strange, ferromagnetic materials that spiked and swirled seemingly on their own. Impossibly delicate magical devices of crystal and metal together. You swore you saw something in one corner of a room Sans had towed you past that looked like a black hole’s event horizon, captured between two perfectly black spires and framed by the small window you'd peered through. Even the hallways themselves were amazing; full of paperwork and magical missives that flew themselves back and forth, an organized chaos that put the university’s occasional magical message to shame.

But something in the atmosphere…felt wrong. And ever since Monday night, you'd started seeing that faint shimmer around things again, like you'd seen back at the university…it was twisted here, dark and lingering on the edges of the doorways and hall lights like a shadow.

You'd messaged Gaster about it, but hadn't gotten an answer as to a probable cause, of course…though, a dirty voice in the back of your mind helpfully mentioned, you had swallowed an awful lot of magic.  

You bit back a snort as Sans led you to the elevator, his eyes dim. “so…we all agreed not to do this, like ninety nine percent of the time. my brother is a bastard when he's under a lot of stress, and that's his right. it would be wrong to call you away from your life every time he gets a snit up his ass.” He pressed the button for the third floor. “but…we're all at the end of our ropes. the experiments are two-part. first, getting plants to grow in half the time they usually do, building up to even faster. every single one but four has repeatedly failed after only a growth cycle or two, despite projections being successful, despite historical record showing it was done before.”

You nodded; you knew that part. 

“the second half is making sure that plants grown in that accelerated field can create viable seed themselves. not a single one except for those original four survived past monday night- we all came in tuesday morning to find them wilting. they were planted, germinated perfectly fine, and then died overnight at barely eight days old. they weren't even exposed to the temporal fields yet. and there's literally no reason that any of us can find. no magical or mundane cause...” He hesitated. “...and i don't think my brother is okay. i mean, none of us are. but you know.”

It was all so bad that you could hardly bear to think about it. “Oh no…I'll do my best?”

“thanks.”

It was odd; the atmosphere in the building was oppressively sad. Miserable and dark. Yet it was almost… calming , just to be near Sans. Something about him was innately comforting; a bulwark of stability. The brothers were such strange men, completely different, yet somehow connected by some inherent power. Each totally unique in ability and yet undeniably similar in strength, which was so much more than the average Monster, with this underlying current of… something unifying them. It was impossible to describe. 

Gaster's protectiveness. Papyrus's kindness. Sans’ unflappable calm. Three sides of one unnamable gift.

The elevator opened on a long hall with a set of double doors at the end, and the sight of them was enough to make you wonder if maybe you should write one of your old Monster professors, just to see if you were magically ‘okay’- the closed doorway looked so dark around the edges that it was distracting. Sans stepped a few feet out, then turned to you.

“alright. he'll probably be in his office, and he'll probably be pissed as fuck at me for doing this. but he has to leave. he can't do anything else here, and it's driving him nuts. i doubt he'll do more than snap at you.”

You shook your head absently; you weren't worried about that. “I'll live. But Sans…nothing? Nothing worked?” Your voice cracked as you said it- what would happen to all of your friends? Your teachers? The kind Geometric woman you'd bought noodles from almost every day on the corner of Scholar and Third, outside of the university Underground…what would happen to her? 

“nothing. we're probably gonna pivot to improving essence extraction, though that'll fuck other things up...but at least we'll be able to eat human-grown food with enough of it.”

He snorted mirthlessly as you looked on, helpless in the face of his quiet sadness. “shout out to them mages, right? what a fucking spell, honestly brilliant in its design. not enough to kill us, not enough to put up the barrier, nah. had to literally trap us, tie us magically to the mountain forever, so even if the barrier fell, we couldn't go far. we weren't always so dependent on it. but now we are, and always will be. a last insult. take a holy place and make it a prison, forever.”

What else could you say? “I'm…so, so sorry. The essence powder, I know it's expensive to make…”

“it's not just that. it's draining the mountain, the magical potential, crystallized and made physical, being sucked out. it's a stop gap. drain enough, and the core stops functioning. drain enough, and monsters stop being born, dust loses its ability to hold together…you get the idea.”

He fell silent, turning away and ambling down the hall toward those oppressive doors. Taking a moment to steady yourself, you followed, unsure what to say. Reaching the end, he opened one for you…unveiling a heart-breaking scene. 

The entire third floor was one huge, open space, completely silent and divided into dozens of ceiling-height stone and glass cases, like miniature greenhouses, broken up by tables, computers, and magical devices. Some contained flowing water, some soil, some gravel and water together- hydroponics, maybe. 

And every single one, save four along one wall that held small, healthy looking saplings, was dark and unlit, filled with dead and dying plant material. Monsters were scattered around the room- some sitting in quiet groups, some alone at desks with their heads in their hands. A few were crying. 

“there's no disease. no poison. the water is perfect, we've tried everything, tested for everything. we've contacted specialists from every branch of agriculture and environmentalism. every single one has thrown their hands up in confusion. it worked before. gaster was alive when it worked before, saw it with his own two eyes. but it won't now.”

You tucked your astonishment at that away to deal with later; it's not as if you hadn't guessed at his age. 

Unfortunately, Gaster was not in his office- your plan at extricating him had depended on privacy, privacy for him to snap and growl, and be hopefully soothed by you once he drained off some of the extreme stress. No, the man was pacing at the far end of the huge room, Alphys and another Monster who often accompanied her to cards sitting silently near him- Eddie, maybe?

“shit. alright, hey, actually maybe you should go. sorry to pull you out for nothing.”

You nodded. It was as obvious as anything that your man would get immensely defensive if even one of his employees was watching, much less an entire room of them. 

(Eddie glanced over, keeping an ear pricked for Gaster's attention. He'd felt the vibrations of your footsteps beside Sans’, had learned them over many nights playing cards, when your's and Alphys’ friend groups intersected. Tuning himself to lower frequencies, he shifted to place his feet more firmly on the ground, listening in on your conversation…finding the right time to do something sneaky. Because Gaster was currently pale, and sickly, and so much better with you around…and Eddie did care for him.)

You hesitated, then turned to Sans. “Let's go. At least outside the doors.”

He followed you out quickly, sliding the door shut silently behind him. 

Once you were in the relative privacy of the empty hall, you turned to him. “Alright. I have such a stupid question, but for some reason I feel like I have to ask. Have any of you asked like, a normal farmer? Not an agricultural specialist or environmentalist or anything, but like a local, run of the mill, average farmer? One who knows the plants and dirt and stuff in this area?”

---

“-such a stupid question, but for some reason I feel like I have to ask. Have any of you asked like, a normal farmer? Not an agricultural specialist or environmentalist or anything, but like a local, run of the mill, average farmer? One who knows the plants and dirt and stuff in this area?”

Gaster, short-tempered and nearly screaming with stress, whipped his head up- that had been your voice. He didn't see Eddie as the Lizard dropped his hand, bright red magic fading from his fingertips as he finished amplifying your voice. The Skeleton growled through his teeth, the sound resonating in his chest loudly enough to make a few nearby Monsters glance over nervously.

He bit back a sarcastic comment about your words- of course his idiot brother had brought you here, another layer of frustration on top of all the others (and guilt, for he'd practically fucked you and fled, unable to reach out for four days because he hadn't been able to tear himself away from the lab long enough to get a new phone)…and then froze. 

There'd been something, something behind your voice. But not something originating from you necessarily, no…something in existence itself. That impossibly faint chime of potential that he'd learned to look for magically, the thing that had carried him to the top of his field- his ability to see and hear the consequences of an action or belief, sometimes in great detail…and sometimes, like now, only having the barest awareness that there was a possibility of change.

He blinked, switching his sight etherically, and stalked across the room. People watched him pass warily as he stomped up to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it behind himself. You and Sans were halfway down the hall, frozen in place. 

“Repeat That Again. What You Just Said.”

You blinked at him, Sans glaring at his rude abruptness, and he almost repeated himself before you held up a hand as if to calm him, complying. “Okay, hi,…um, have any of you asked just a normal farmer? Not an agricultural specialist or environmentalist-”

There. The tiniest possible resonance, bouncing from your pure blue Soul and leading outward, infinitesimally minute and far too sourceless to be at all specific. Gaster didn't know what type of path this would lead down, but fuck it, at this point he was desperate.

“Come With Me. Sans, You're An Interfering Bitch. Send Everyone Home For The Weekend.”

Sans saluted, getting the fuck out of dodge as you frowned at Gaster. “I'm sorry, what? Now you're leaving?” 

“ We're Leaving. Come On.”

He rushed you down the hall to the elevator, taking off his lab coat and tossing it carelessly on a nearby bench. He could tell you were upset with him and at the situation, was nearly beating his head in with frustration himself…but this couldn't wait. After four days of hopeless consultations and worthless visiting experts, this was his last, mad chance. 

He led you out into the lobby with a hand on the small of your back, releasing the magic in his eye as the automatic doors opened before you. You took a deep breath when you got outside, slowing your steps a bit, and Gaster nearly groaned aloud. “Okay, hey, hey? Can you tell me what's going on?”

He counted to ten, and then twenty, before he answered as he let go of you and turned toward his car. “I…No, I Actually Really Can't Right Now. My Ambient Magic Is Hard To Explain Even When I Am Clear Headed, And I'm Close To Breaking Something.” Realizing that you were trotting to keep up with him, he forced himself to slow down. “All I Can Say Is That I Am Completely, Utterly Out Of Ideas. And When You Spoke Just A Moment Ago…I Told You Before That I See Potentialities. There Was Something There Behind Your Words. I Don't Know Anything More.”

“Okay…so what are we going to do? Are we leaving just to leave, or…?”

He shrugged, feeling a bit manic. “I'm Gonna Drive Outside Of Town, Down That Strip Of Farms On Route Twenty, And You're Going To Tell Me When To Stop.”

You stopped in place, turning to stare at him. “Wait, what?”

He growled, dragging his hands down his face and trying so, so hard not to raise his voice. “Look, Please Just…Just Do It. I Know It Sounds Mad. But Sometimes…Sometimes Magic Does Sound Insane. And I Have No Other Recourse.”

You hesitated, then stepped near, throwing your arms around his neck. For a moment he balked at the contact, wanting to be doing something, anything… and then he caught the scent of your perfume, the feel of your skin. 

Almost shaking with discouragement and fear for the future, he pulled you in roughly, in full view of the five stories of windows behind you both. He muttered the admission into your hair. “...I Don't Know What Else To Do. And I'm Sorry I Couldn't Reach You. I Didn't Mean To Blow You Off.”

Your voice was immensely gentle. “Sweetheart…I don't have magic. I don't know anything about farmers or farming or any of that. Lets say you're right, there's someone out there in the world that can help. How would I possibly know who to choose?”

Tears of frustration welled in his eyes; he turned himself a bit so his back was to the research center, his voice cracking. “I Don't Fucking Know.”

He felt you take a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Let's go, come on handsome, in the car. Stiff upper lip for the interns.”

That made him snort mirthlessly. Taking one last second to breathe you in, he let go and opened the car door for you, then got in himself. Sitting now, he closed his eyes as the air conditioning cooled the blistering inside of his car, praying. Angel. Stars. Great Hunter and Bear Mother. Please help her help me. For I don't know what else to do. 

You hummed beside him. “You want to know something? It's a total non sequitur.”

He started backing out, eager for any distraction you could provide. “Sure.”

“Ever since Monday night? I've seen those same shimmering auras around things that I saw back when I was going to the Capital university.”

A tiny glimmer of amusement bubbled up inside him. “Small Wonder. You, Ah, Imbibed Rather A Lot Of Magic.” 

That earned him a grin. “So I did.”

He pulled off onto the main road, heading for the interstate. “There Are Some Humans Participating In Preliminary Magical Studies; Learning What May Be Possible. Perhaps You Should Join. You May Be Able To Hone That Into Something Truly Useful.”

You scoffed. “As if I was born special enough to do magic.”

Sighing, he reached over and laid a hand on your thigh, his Soul a bit calmer for the contact. “You Are Tremendously Special To Me And Many. And Who Knows, It May Not Be A Refinable Skill. But Just The Fact That You See The Beginnings Is Promising. It's Your Choice, Of Course.”

Your voice was very small as you turned to stare out the window. “...would you be disappointed if I couldn't? If I tried to learn, and wasn't able to?”

“No. I Would Admire You For The Effort, And Enjoy The Fact That My…P-Partner Is Lightly, Magically Sensitive. It Doesn't Have To Be Any More Than That.”

He only stuttered a tiny bit on the word ‘partner’- your hand covered his, squeezing gently, and a knot in his chest loosened. Leaning forward, you turned on Pandora, switching to the soft rock channel and turning it down low. He tried to take deep breaths, anxiety and fear for the future swirling sickly in his metaphorical belly, bouncing his knee as the feelings crawled up his spine. 

“Hey, can you take human medication? Does it work the same?”

He raised his right hand, splitting a spectral one off to sign with both as he drove with his left, the panic choking him now that he was in the safety of your presence. “Often it does. It depends on how long it's existed, and how many people know of it and its medicinal properties. If the intention and knowledge has been set in the patterns of the world, then it'll generally work for Monsters.”

“Great. Want an ativan?”

“Maybe, what is it?”

“Strong, fast-acting anxiety medicine. Cuts off panic attacks. Debatably addictive if you're stupid about taking them constantly.”

“Oh…sure. Yes, actually. Why the fuck not.”

You passed a tiny white pill into his fingertips, along with a bottle of water hanging off your purse’s strap. He took it at a red light, hoping it would help. The interstate ramp was just a few minutes ahead. 

This was feeling like a more insane plan by the second…but he had no other, so oh fucking well. Then he drove in silence for a while, praying over and over; he wasn't a religious man, usually, but right now? He'd take any help he could get. The Hunter rose in the sky above, his belt of three stars glimmering.

Glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he merged onto the interstate, Gaster cocked a brow. You were leaning with your chin on your hand, staring out the window, breathing slowly and evenly; the empty mind count, seven…four…and ten. The most basic meditative breath every Monster child learned for controlling their magic, Gaster would recognize it in his sleep. You'd said you learned it at the University; a way to clear your thoughts, preventing your human Determination and intent from interfering with the rehabilitation of Monster clients. Blinking quickly, he switched his vision to the ultraviolet of his magic; it was dangerous to do driving, the dark-light of Souls not accurately showing how large or small the vehicles around them were…but some tiny, tiny curiosity burned at the back of his mind, and the interstate was almost empty this late at night. Call it a hunch. 

Your Soul rested in your chest, not fluttering with emotions or bouncing to your heartbeat as most mortal Souls did…but glowing with a light he'd never noticed in it before, still and centered. And then, to his absolute astonishment, that dark blue light covering its outer form inverted into itself, diving inward esoterically before completing the cycle to circle back to an outward expression. A constant, smooth movement, and at the end of each cycle, a tiny, soft ping of potential, the same as he'd heard before under your words, about speaking to a farmer. 

Bizarrely, he thought of his mother. 

(“Blue-Souled mortals were sometimes known as Benefactori, in older times.” His mother's voice was it's usual soft whisper, her many arms elegant as she shaped shadows on the wall to illustrate her teachings. “Helpmeets, supporters, enablers- though humanity has twisted each of those words to be most foul, negative and slavish, as they are wont to do with so many things.” 

She formed a woman with another standing behind her, her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “They ease the way, opening paths and cutting away confusion. In their presence, lies perish. Falsehoods fade. Clarity and vision are brought forth with grace as they bolster and guide.”

“But only mage humans can do magic, momma!” How fervently he'd always argued with her, the things he learned from his tutors warring with her older, more traditional teachings. 

“No. That is a falsehood- do not let it cloud your sight.” His mother’s own deep blue magic poured forth, shaping images in the air to add to her shadow puppets. “Souls, human and Monster, inverted reflections of each other. One wearing their magic for protection, made of physical forms- humanity. The other, projecting their magic outwards to give themselves a form in which to live- Monsters.”

He thought of his father, a regular human, yet able to light a campfire with a thought. He thought of their neighbors, a Lark and a human woman, and how the human sometimes leapt great heights, falling as slow as a feather. 

“It is true, only Mage humans can make magic. Yet still, there is no separation between us. All things may be conjoined. Humanity brings to bear their determination to succeed, while Monsters shape the very world around themselves with their will. What is the difference between the two?”

She kissed his forehead gently. “The Angel made us to be one. One people, two perfect halves. Master Monsters reflecting Mages. Normal Monsters reflecting normal humans. Mirrors. Showing each other our Light. Beautiful things are possible when we share that Light freely.”

“Oh…”)

In the stillness of your mind, you were cycling your Soul. Cycling magic…his magic, he had to assume, absorbed and transmuted by you. Did you even feel it? Or was it as innate as a Monster doing it, the constant, dancing process of refining and purifying the power for future use?

He forced himself to look away, to switch his sight back to normal lest he kill the both of you. Then, his voice very soft, he murmured, “My Dear? This Might Sound Odd. Could You Tell Me Exactly What You're Thinking About Right Now?”

You didn't answer him the first time he asked, your eyes distant and half-closed…halfway to a trance, if he had to guess. He touched your thigh gently, repeating himself, and you blinked a few times. “Oh…um, why?”

“Humor Me. I Promise I'll Explain Afterwards.”

You blushed, staring down at your hands. “Im just trying to stay calm, what Sans told me…fucking hell.”

He nodded  “But What Were You Doing To Stay Calm?”

“Well…god, it's gonna sound so stupid. I can't think of a way to say it that it doesn't sound weird as hell out loud.”

“What Magical Technique Did You Learn In School That You Were Doing Right Now? What Imagery Were You Using?”

He felt you turn to stare at him. “What? How did you-”

“Please.”

You stammered for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Alright. But if you laugh at me, I'll be really genuinely mad at you.”

As he switched lanes, he shrugged. “I Won't.”

Staring at your lap, you sighed. “It's not something we learned in school, precisely. More like…my own idea, to have the same effect as the general visualizations they taught. I imagine a well. A stone well, one that's safe for me to fall into. I…” Then you glanced at him again, for just a split second, as if nervous to speak of falling, and Gaster knew then with almost surety that one of his brothers had told you the truth. He'd always suspected Papyrus knew. 

“You Aren't Going To Upset Me With The Description, Forget Your Worries…Believe It Or Not, I Still Enjoy Rollercoasters, And Regularly Do Work On The Core Support Structures. Now, Continue. Please.”

Your eyes got wide; you bit your lip, picking at your nails for a moment, and that confirmed it. You knew that he knew that you knew. 

“I'm sorry. I never…would have mentioned it. Never would have said anything.”

He sighed, shaking his head in rough bemusement. “I'll Strangle Him Next Time I See Him, Our Family Tree Could Use Some Pruning- No, We'll Finish The Photography Contest, And I'll Keep That Damn Prize Book For Myself.” 

That made you giggle softly, as he'd meant it to. “…I Have Spent My Life Studying Magic, Souls And Their Holders. I Do Have A Reason To Ask What You Were Picturing. But Even If I Didn't…Is It So Bad For Me To Wonder How My Woman Thinks? To Be Curious About Her Mind? You Are Sometimes As Lovely, Yet Strange And Foreign To Me, As I Assume I Can Be To You On Occasion.”

You laced your fingers with his again. “Okay…I picture a large well, stone lipped and old fashioned, with dark blue water at the bottom- that came long before you told me what color my Soul was, for interest's sake, it's always been my favorite color. I stand on the edge and fall backwards, but there's no splash, or impact.”

Gaster wished he wasn't driving right then; the imagery was so obviously magical in nature that he half-wanted to follow along internally for fun. 

“I fall in, surrounded by it; an ocean that only I can't drown in, that gets darker and darker at the bottom until it's so dark I can't see. And then at the bottom, where I come to rest… black sand forever around me…and a dark blue little light. Like a ball of fire.”

Oh but this was fascinating. He yearned for the freedom of time and brainspace to make a study of this- that you'd known your own Soul color without being able to see it, without being a Mage…

“And Is Anything Different About It This Time? Something You Don't Usually See, But Appeared As If From Outside Yourself?”

You were quiet for so long that he wondered if you'd heard him. Then, “...I'm so afraid I'm just imagining it. That it's just…wishful thinking, from being around too many magical things. I don't have the words to explain how stupid I feel, talking about it to you.” 

Curiosity burned in his chest. “Tell Me Anyway.”

You hugged your purse to your chest, bending to rest your chin on it for a moment. “Ever since Monday…the color is different. The light on the bottom of the ocean…it's like it always is, but now…you're in it. The color your eye turns when you look at things magically, the color of the hands you form. Mixing with the blue…with me.”

Gaster breathed in sharply; his mother had been right. God help him, their current understanding of humanity and magic was barely scratching the surface. He'd made the magic, and you were using it. No, amplifying it, amplifying him…what was possible? 

Nearly anything. 

(...Beautiful things are possible when we share that Light freely.”)

“...Thank You. Please Go Back To Doing What You Were Doing. I'll Be Pulling Off Onto Twenty Here In A Few Moments. I Want You To Tell Me If You Feel Something Change. Even If You Think You're Just Making It Up.”

You started to argue, and he held a hand up. “I Needed To Get Out Of That Place. Sans…Was Right, Fuck Him To Hell. So This Is No Chore For Me.” He squeezed your leg. “Just…Trust Me, Sweetheart. Have Some Faith In Me. I'm Not Doing This Without A Purpose. I Promise I'll Explain Afterwards, But I Don't Want To Muddle You With Theories.”

“...alright. I feel big-stupid, just so you know.”

“Noted.”

It took a few minutes, but your discipline was as good as a trained Monster's; your breath soon fell into that familiar pattern as you gazed sightlessly out the window. Gaster quickly switched his vision into the ethereal and back, wincing at the pinch behind his eye that he earned for rushing the magic. Yes, your Soul had returned to its previous magical cycling, moving power over and through itself. Though he couldn't get closer while the car was moving, he swore now that he knew to look that he saw the faintest ultraviolet tinge, almost unnoticeable amongst the dark blue. 

As he pulled onto the state route, surrounded by corn fields and the occasional roadside farm stand, he realized his own forgetfulness; blue souls assisted. They helped. What was he giving you to work on? Where could the path of potential go? If this was a partnership, then he had to do his side. Pity that it was in a mundane Mercedes with the radio on, instead of a magical circle of candles, or a lovely place of power in nature- but those things could come later, if you'd let him. He already itched to see what was possible between the two of you.

Gaster split his focus with experience- half on the road, half sinking into his own magic. It rippled out like a heat mirage, testing the threads of potential that connected to him, and to you, and the two of you to each other. Then he dropped his voice into it, speaking with power; so low, he could barely be heard over the quiet radio. The words only needed to reach your subconscious mind. 

Violet magic steamed from his lips as he spoke. “I Need A Path Forward. I've Exhausted Every Avenue That I And Every Expert I Reach Out To Can Think Of. Once, In The Early Days Of The Barrier, Monsters Used Temporal Magic To Speed The Growth Of Crops Ten-Fold, Even Twenty-Fold. Plants Grew From Seed To Harvest Overnight. Now, We Cannot Sustain Even The Equivalent Of A Two-To-One Ratio Of Time. Something Is Missing; Something Is Different Now Than It Was Back Then.”

Your eyes fell closed. 

Time passed. Power was building in the air between the two of you. The corn fields switched to wheat, then to alfalfa and back. You didn't answer him, but he didn't expect you to. 

There was a growing… feeling in his car. He had no better description than that. Below his magic, below anything he had the words for. A sensation, like the first scent of fall, or the sight of the full moon after a dark night. A light flickering warmly in the window at Yule. It was impossible to describe with anything except metaphor. 

Anticipation. Welcome. Change.

Your eyes shifted rapidly under their lids, your breathing so shallow that he couldn't even see it. When the car hit a rough bump in the road, you didn't so much as flinch. He repeated himself twice more, three times total for the Deltarune, because fuck it, traditions existed for a reason.

A few more minutes passed. Then he felt it like a silent bass note- another, single thrum from your Soul. A request for guidance, enabled and empowered by him; what was it trying to help him do?

Fucking hell this was amazing, this was fascinating, so exciting- he wished he could forget the whole miserable research center and focus on this phenomenon instead. This was where his interests were, this was what he loved to study. 

“I Need To Find Someone Who Can Help Me. Someone Who Will Show Me Something I'm Missing, Someone With Knowledge That All Of Us Lack, Or Haven't Put Together In The Right Way Yet. Someone Who Knows This Area Well, Who Has Lived Here And Grown-”

“...here.”

Your voice was so quiet, so dreamlike, that he almost missed it. He began to slow; the corn fields opened up to show the wide front yard of a farmhouse. In front of it, along the road, was a large shed turned vegetable stand, decorated with hanging lights. A handful of elderly humans sat there in lawn chairs, talking; they glanced up as his car pulled up, and he was grateful for the window tint; he wasn't the most approachable-appearing Monster.

You moved almost before he came to a complete stop, opening the door and stepping out with a grace he'd never seen before from you; not that you were clumsy, but this was…strange. Inhuman. Fluid and over-light, you were practically walking on your toes, like a ballet dancer. 

Like his mother had. 

“Hello,” you called. “Are you still open?”

Gaster caught a glimpse of your face in the side mirror and nearly choked. Humans probably wouldn't be able to see it in the dim light, the sun had almost completely set by now…but he could. 

Your irises were a slightly different color. 

It brought back flashes of memories; his father’s eyes were a dark, almost unnatural blue…unless it was one of the rare occasions that he'd gone away for months trading; then he'd come home with pale gray irises. It always upset Gaster, but they'd quickly turn ‘right’ when he'd been home for a few days. 

He'd never put together until this very moment that the blue had come from his mother's magic.

But there was a slight difference between his memories and you as you walked toward the other humans- yours weren't blue as his father's usually were. Instead, your natural color had blended with another.

A faint, infinitesimal tint of violet. 

“Holy Fuck,” he whispered to himself, grinning suddenly. Had other Monster-Human pairings seen similar magical occurrences? Perhaps they were afraid to say something, fearing retaliation from both races…or perhaps it would take longer for most. He was, after all, undeniably far more ‘magical’ than the average Monster- and that wasn't a brag. Just a fact of nature. And there weren't that many mixed-race relationships, yet. 

An elderly human woman stood up with a smile. “Well we weren't really still open…but seein’ as we're all out here yappin, you may as well see if you like anything!”

“Thank you…that's kind of you.” Your voice was soft and dreamy; you'd left the car door open. Yes, you were completely in a trance, as magically enraptured as any Monster doing a working. “What do you grow, throughout the year?”

“Oh, basically everything. Curtis? This here's my husband, he does the farm. I keep the kitchen and the baking and all. He can tell you.”

A man nodded, resettling himself in his chair. “Anythin’ you can ask for, really. Peas, radishes, lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, squash, potatoes, broccoli, pumpkins…well, you get the idea.”

“Wheat? Corn? Soybeans?”

He snorted. “Well sure. Got cattle to feed.”

You hummed. “I'll take this, and this-” Gaster couldn't see what you picked out “-and a dozen ears of corn, please ma'am."

The man's wife smiled. “Sure thing.”

You stepped closer to the man; Curtis. “It's wonderful you can grow so many beautiful things. My friends…they're having a lot of trouble. Their crops are failing, and they don't know why.”

He frowned. “Around here? Soil's fine, it ain't too hot. Rained just last week. What're they doing wrong?”

“Well…they're Monsters. And they're having a crisis; it could turn into a famine soon. They don't know what’s wrong- they're doing everything right, and its not working for them” 

One of the other men sitting nearby made a grumbling noise in his throat. "̶N̶o̵w̸ ̸I̴'̶m̷ ̸n̵o̷t̸ ̵s̶a̷y̶i̵n̵'̴ ̵i̴t̷ ̶a̴i̸n̷'̷t̷ ̸a̴ ̴s̴h̴a̸m̴e̵,̷ ̴b̷u̵t̴.̸.̶.̷w̵e̶'̶v̸e̸ ̶g̸o̵t̸ ̶e̷n̶o̶u̵g̸h̴ ̸h̴e̴r̸e̸ ̶g̷o̸i̸n̸g̴ ̸o̶n̶ ̶a̷s̵ ̷i̷t̴ ̷i̴s̸.̸ ̶D̷o̴n̷'̵t̶ ̷y̴o̸u̶ ̷h̷a̴v̴e̸ ̶t̴r̴e̵a̵t̶m̶e̶n̸t̸s̴ ̸y̷o̴u̵ ̵g̵o̴t̷t̶a̸ ̶p̶u̶t̶ ̵o̴n̴ ̴t̸h̵e̸ ̵n̸e̴x̸t̷ ̸f̶e̷w̶ ̴w̷e̸e̵k̸s̷?̶ ̸S̶o̷m̴e̸t̶h̷i̴n̵g̸ ̵w̸i̶t̸h̶ ̸b̴l̶a̵c̸k̷ ̷m̷o̷s̷a̴i̷c̴,̵ ̵y̵o̴u̵ ̸c̸a̵n̵'̸t̶ ̸l̷o̷s̷e̸ ̷y̴o̷u̷r̵ ̸e̶n̸t̵i̷r̵e̷ ̸f̵e̶e̴d̷ ̶s̴o̵y̴ ̷c̷r̸o̶p̴ ̵j̷u̶s̴t̵ ̷b̴e̷c̷a̴u̸s̶e̸ ̶s̶o̷m̴e̴o̶n̶e̷ ̵c̸o̴m̶e̶s̴ ̴t̵o̴ ̴y̶o̷u̸r̴ ̶d̴o̶o̶r̶ ̴w̵i̶t̴h̷ ̵t̸h̵e̷i̷r̷ ̶o̴w̷n̴ ̶t̷r̴a̵g̸e̵d̴y̴.̵"̸

The first man hesitated, worry coming into his eyes. "I...well, that's true...."

"̵A̵n̸d̷ ̴y̸o̵u̵ ̷c̶a̸n̶'̵t̸ ̷d̴e̵n̷y̶.̵.̵.̶t̸h̵e̶y̴ ̴j̸u̵s̵t̶ ̵d̶o̸n̶'̴t̸ ̸a̷c̸t̸ ̴r̷i̷g̶h̸t̶ ̶s̴o̶m̴e̴t̴i̸m̴e̷s̶.̴ ̴Y̵o̵u̷ ̸g̵o̵n̸n̵a̴,̸ ̵w̶h̴a̷t̵,̴ ̵g̵o̶ ̶w̶a̶l̶k̷i̶n̵g̸ ̵i̶n̷t̴o̶ ̵a̷ ̵r̷o̵o̵m̵ ̴f̸u̵l̵l̵ ̷o̵f̷ ̶g̷h̵o̴s̴t̵s̶ ̷a̷n̵d̴ ̶s̸l̴i̵m̶e̸y̵-̸"̷

Gaster sighed, feeling sick and heavy in his heart as tuned the rest out. Here was the end of this endeav-

“No need for that.” Your words were gentle, yet strangely carrying, rippling back and forth like a firm hand as you fixed your eye sternly on him. “I love them very much, they're kind...good natured. My friend Firefly has a son, about this tall-” you showed against your leg “-and I'm worried about him.”

The woman packing up your purchases nodded, following the pattern you'd set. “Ain't nothin wrong with those folks Bruce, they're fine people. Just gettin’ by like the rest of us. Can't help if God made ‘em a little odd.”

He pursed his lips, but said nothing else. 

You turned to her, plainly seeing her as a path forward. “They have to grow things in a special way to be able to eat them…but something’s wrong. They used to be able to, and now they can't. And they can't eat human-grown foods, it doesn't work for them. Their smartest man can't figure out what's going wrong.”

Curtis shifted in place. “That's a damn shame…”

And then Gaster felt it; potential, chiming first off first your Soul, and then, off the man's. He was a pure, sunshine-yellow; Justice through and through.

“They've tried all the fancy, thinking-type people, and none of them could help. So now they're looking for advice from the folks who really know what they're talking about; all the farmers nearby. Anybody who's willing to come and give them a little advice where they're doing research. They'll probably even pay for your time.”

The woman handed your bag over. “Curtis, you should help them out. Your family's farmed here since I can't even remember when. You'd know better than anyone.”

Another ping of potential.

“Please,” Gaster whispered, seeing it now, the magic of potential futures rippling through the air, visions of the research facility, of a man wearing overalls walking in…of green sprouts, hale and healthy. It was a miracle, it was amazing, he was thunderstruck by this, this…impossibility. They would have never agreed, except that you asked in the perfect way, nudged them in the perfect way. A million-million ways it could have gone wrong, and you were dancing along the one thread where it didn't, tremulous and thin.

He clasped his hands, holding them to his forehead in prayer. “Please.”

“Well…I guess I could, if they'd be wantin’ to talk to someone like me.”

You smiled at him. “They absolutely would. I'm really worried for them…they need all the help they can get. Anyone at all. They need us, the community.”

The woman shook her head. “Folks shouldn't go hungry. When do you think we should go? And where is it?”

Taking the knotted plastic bags from her, you wavered a little on your feet; Gaster nearly got out, risking spooking them with his appearance, but you righted yourself. With his sight adjusted to see magic since he parked, he could see that your borrowed power was nearly bereft now, drained by this strange, esoteric seeking the two of you had done together. “Monday would probably be good. It's in at the Mountain entrance, in the city? Just on your right as you pass under the big welcome sign, five story white stone building. They're nice, sensible folks.”

Curtis nodded. “This here's my wife, Patty. Can she come?”

“Of course! They'll be happy to see you all. They're kind people almost universally, though under tremendous stress right now.”

“Alright…Monday, once I'm finished balin’, we'll make a drive in. We can go for dinner afterward.”

Gaster felt like he was going to melt with relief; he almost cried a little, barely reigning himself in. The more you chatted with them, building a connection even with grumpy old Bruce in the corner, the more a future solidified. He didn't know if it would be a perfect success, but it was something. 

You were amazing. Angel-sent and star-blessed, a gift given into his arms that he'd nearly squandered from the very beginning. 

He loved you so fucking much. 

“Thank you, all of you. The gentleman who runs the whole of it- his name is Gaster. Doctor Gaster, if we're being professional and all. I know he'll be grateful. I'm very close to him.”

Patty winked. “Aw, helpin’ out your man?”

Walking back toward the car, you grinned tiredly over your shoulder. “I am! Alright, have a good night! I'll be there Monday, too!”

All three called the same to you as you nearly fell into his car, the smile dropping from your face the second you closed the door, tossing the produce to the floor of the backseat. “Hey I think I'm coming down with something, I feel terrible all of a sudden.”

He couldn't speak for a moment, so overwhelmed with emotion. “...You're Not. Your Soul Is…Weary. You Just Worked Magic For The First Time, And…And…” 

“Are…you okay? Hey…? Honey?”

When you reached out a shaky hand to turn his chin toward yourself, he saw your eyes were back to their normal shade. “Hey. Don't be upset with me for this- you're crying. Are you okay ?”

“I Am…In Awe .” He shook his head, not even feeling the tears on his cheeks. “I Am In Awe Of You, And This Moment, And What This Means For Us And All Monsters. And Humans Too.”

You released him to hold your head, squinting. “Fuck, jesus, ow, oh my god it hurts so bad behind my eye. Okay, um…I'm sorry, we have to move. They'll think we're weird if we just sit here.”

Gaster put the car in gear, automatically driving about a mile down the road, until there was nothing nearby but fields of corn and soybeans. Then he pulled off onto the shoulder, turned off his lights, and reached for you. “Come Here. There's Enough Room Between Me And The Wheel. Come Here Sweetheart, I'll Fix It.”

You were squeezing your head with both hands, breathing hard; he pulled you over gently, making sure your knees were safely on the seat on either side of his slim hips. You made a little noise of pain in your chest, your eyes watering. 

“It really hurts, I-” 

“Here.” 

He pulled you in, hugging you close enough that he could feel your heartbeat against his ribs. There was your Soul, safely protected behind that barrier of bone and flesh. Leaning in, he took your chin in hand, parting your lips with his thumb, and breathed magic into you. It was tremendously intimate; the way you shivered in his arms, the way he felt this intrinsic, inherent part of himself become instead a part of you…

He almost felt a little guilty, presumptuous- this was usually something done only between Monsters who were married, or together for years. But he felt the tension leave your body the moment he did it, the ache of your Soul’s straining eased immediately; a crucible that had been overheating, now cooled. Children usually started building up their magical tolerance with simple bullets for protection, or lighting little fires. Not channeling a powerful Monster's reality-affecting magic directly through their Soul. 

This close to you, he could watch as, at the very back of your pupil, tiny as a pinprick, a dot of violet light sparked and remained. And then he nearly swooned, for you leaned in and whispered, “You taste like a thunderstorm,” against his lips.

He slid his hands up to your waist, holding you there as something deep and powerful lit inside him. “You Can Taste Them?”

You nodded. “We can smell them, which is almost the same. Rain, storms…seasons changing. Gaster…what did we do here?”

Shaking his head, he spread his fingers, biting back a noise of satisfaction at how he could span your entire waist with his hands. “I Don't Know. Something Old. Something That Used To Be Common, When Both Races Lived Across This Land Together.”

The air felt electric- you never looked away from him for a moment. He felt terribly seen and known. “You're not speaking from just book knowledge.” 

He shook his head again.

“How old are you?” 

There was no trepidation in your voice, and so he answered with simple honesty, like an offering on your altar. “I Was Born In Ten-Sixty, Twenty Years Before The War, And Slept For Four Hundred Years Under The Mountain. I've Been Awake For Six Hundred And Thirty Three Human Years.”

You shook your head, a laugh of wonder lightly shaking his grip on you. “...you're beautiful…absolutely amazing. How can I be so lucky? ”

He blinked, shaking his head in an aborted gesture of denial, but you gripped him by the chin before he could refute you. “Listen to me.”

It was more effective than a gag: he fell silent, obedient and pliant. You could have asked for anything in this moment and he'd have given it to you. Your gaze flickered over his face, your other hand coming up as you shifted to cup his cheeks. “You are…amazing. Absolutely amazing, look what you can do, look what you can let me do…I don't understand what just happened back there, do you hear me? I don't remember half of what I said, it's like I was a thousand miles away, listening to myself. And yet. And yet. Something changed, and I know it changed, and I've never felt anything like that knowledge before. ”

He blinked at you, your voice falling through him like rain on parched earth. The earlier medicine had banished the anxiety entirely, leaving him calm and raw and open…and now you so gently bandaged him closed again, salving him with your words.

“I have never, ever cared about someone like I care about you.”

Oh. He knew where this was going as surely as he knew his own name…and there was no turning back from it. His life had changed, you had changed it…hundreds of years of waiting, perhaps for this very moment. 

His mother had always claimed she never knew the meaning of love until she met his father.

You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks, then, so gently it was like a feather brushing across his skin, touched one to his damaged eye. 

“We've been together for, what, about two, three months?”

He nodded, holding his breath.

“I've been so happy. With you. You're wonderful, everything I could want. Intelligent. Reliable...trustworthy and kind, so gentle with me.”

Oh please. Please say it. Claim me, and lay a mark beside all these years of waiting. 

You gazed at him with his magic in your eyes, and the future of his people in your hands.

“I really think I love you.” 

Something within him bloomed.  

Pulling you in, crushing you to his chest, Gaster smiled…then grinned…then laughed. Light and open and free. 

And though he didn't notice it in the moment, his voice was as unbroken and smooth as it had ever been before he fell.

“...And I Love You.”

 

Notes:

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

-

"But all the old stories had magic, papa! Fire and water and wind, storms and lightning! Why can't we?

His father sighed, sadness etched across his dusty brow. "Because we killed them, my son. The magic makers. The wizards of old. We killed them, and lost half of ourselves."

-The Gift, by Patrick O'Leary

Chapter 11: Support Network

You dozed on the drive home while Gaster pondered his dinner choices this late at night, finally settling on a Mettaton drive thru. Even though your eyes were closed, hugging his arm so tight that he had to use a spectral hand to shift, you still piped up the moment the lady asked for your orders 

“I want a cheddar apple glamburger, and a mozz stick, and one of those giant vanilla milkshakes with Mettaton candies on top, I am starving .”

He grinned. “As My Lady Commands. You'll Need To Eat More If You Start Dipping Into Magic, It Drains The Worker Terribly.”

Greasy dinner in hand, and with you trying and failing to steal the cherry out of his shake (he started covering it with his hand, and you started walking your fingers up his leg to distract him from it), he drove you back to his place, stopping at a drug store on the way and buying a few various sundries that you texted him from the car. It occurred to him that you should probably have a couple pieces of clothing at his place too, for future use…he'd clean out the closet in his spare bedroom, he just used it for storage anyway. The junk could go down in the basement. And now you had your own toothbrush and such, at least enough to get you through the night.

It made him smile, picturing your clutter of woman-stuff on his sink, perhaps even some of his things at your place, too. Your telescope was already set up in his living room window, a constant reminder of your presence in his life when you weren't there. 

A few minutes from home, you turned in your seat to gaze up at him. “Do you know of any other human-Monster couples who can do something like we did?” 

He shook his head, using magic and one hand to sign. His throat was so sore after the day's insanity. “…The answer is complicated. No, I don't. Perhaps because they fear to say something. But also, maybe because there is a uniqueness to…well, to me, that may also play a role.”

You nodded. “You, Papyrus, Sans…the three of you, unusual among Monsters.” It wasn't a question.

Pulling into his driveway, he left the car running but turned the lights off, his voice a raw whisper. “I Have…Ideas. But Nothing Concrete. It's Been So Long…My Memory Is Fuzzy. But I Know Our Mother Was…Special.”

“Was she a boss Monster?” You handed him a french fry; he signed with it between his fingers . “Maybe. It's Sans’ working theory. I was too young and stupid to pay attention at the time...and the few remaining who knew her aren't sure. She was…quiet. Private.”

Your smile was warm. “I see where you got it from. May I ask…did she…before the barrier, or after?”

The memory would always make him sad, but alas, grief. “She never woke up. Many Monsters didn't. I think she would have…but she poured her power into Seed Souls, to form into Monster children with time and magic…two more sons. I found them cradled by her dust.”

“Oh honey, no…” Your eyes widened, your face falling. “That's…that's horrible. No one should have to…to…”

He sighed. “No, they shouldn't. But she had her reasons. She was already so old when the war happened…and was grieving my father, who was killed at the start of it. I think…she didn't want to see the world that came after. She wanted to leave new life behind, instead.”

You reached over to hug him over the center console. “She didn't want you to be alone.” 

Gaster blinked- hearing you say it was…painful, in a comforting way. It rang with truth. 

“Speaking of my mother…earlier, you asked what I was doing, why I thought what we did would work in the first place. In truth, I'm not sure myself. You are a blue-Souled human, and I vaguely remembered my mother teaching that blue Souls assist, empowering other magical workings and offering clear vision and insight. Beyond that, I truly have no better answer, except that I saw the possibility between us and followed it. We are in uncharted territory together. This was not Mage magic, not at all; it was something else entirely. Something human and yet not, something Monster and yet not. A combining of the two that I really have no words or explanation for yet.”

You chewed your lip for a moment, then looked up at him. “Well…it was amazing. I don't understand it, and yet I do. So you raised them, then? Sans and Pap?”

He nodded, and you gave him a sad smile. “I can relate. My brother, well…I was twelve when he was born; our parents died five years later, no close family. We were taken care of financially, but…it was just us. Some aunt on the west coast was supposed to get us, but we'd never met her before. So a charity here in the city helped me get emancipated, and basically ‘placed him’ as a foster in my custody.”

Oh. That was…terribly sad. “I'm…sorry to hear that.”

You sighed, undoing your seatbelt. “Zeke is who got me into occupational therapy originally, though I switched to physical therapy halfway through my degree. He had to go three or four times a week, until he turned eighteen and stopped.” 

When he cocked his head, you shrugged. “He…never really was okay, despite getting support and everything…I often wonder what I did wrong, though I know thats stupid. He can't hold down a job, can't stay on his meds. Swings from manic addiction to terrible depression. I do my best, but he's twenty five now- I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to.”

Then you laughed roughly, turning aside as you got out of his car. “Sorry, that was, uh, a lot to just throw out there.”

Unseen by you, Gaster pressed his lips together in pity, for this was something he didn't understand about humans- they could be so callous as a species that they'd nearly embedded cold independence into themselves, forcing even their most empathetic, compassionate people, like you, to pull back and apologize. As if just listening to you was some sort of burden on him. 

“Let Me Guess; You Got Mad At Him, And Switched Your Major When He Wouldn't Listen To You? He Went To Occupational Therapy?”

Your smile was wry over the armful of glamburger bags; the place insisted on bagging every single thing separately, with a collectible Mettaton Inc. card and sticker in each. “Yup. Now he couchsurfs Keystone and Midpoint, and only comes into Ebbott when he needs something.”

He unlocked the door, walking backwards so he could sign, giving up speaking for the night. “Sans and I stopped speaking for literally a century at one point. It was horrible. And I don't even remember what started it. ”

Sitting the food down on his counter, you snorted. “Brothers.”

“Brothers.” 

It was amazing how peaceful it could be, eating quietly with you. The day had been miserable, the night insane. But in that moment, there was just the simple comfort of each other…and the fun of seeing which Mettaton cards you each got. 

-

He woke the next morning, around eight, to his phone's incessant ring. Sliding out of bed and your warm hold, he answered it grumpily- one of the Queen's assistants was on the other end. He'd worked with the woman before, a Gem Dragonette with lovely amber scales. She was brisk and to the point.

“Good morning. Her Majesty is calling a work break. All royal, non-essential tasks are to be put off until Monday.”

He sighed, not liking where this was going. Issues of this level usually meant royal intervention- usually meant he'd be needed. “The Reason?”

“Prince Asriel, Frisk, and a half-dozen other Monsters got in a brawl with human children at school yesterday, and the parents are throwing an absolute fit. Barely a day later, and they already have legal representatives and an entire activist group ready and raring to go, never mind that the human children jumped them first. Then an entire Monster condominium was hit with attempted arson last night, 85 apartments. Her majesty wants you here immediately. Royal order.”

Gaster ground his teeth. Before you'd both gone to bed, he'd asked you to breakfast; a lovely little Spider café specializing in fusion cuisine, Monster and French pastry styles. You had a series of meetings in the afternoon, and he felt like he owed you a dozen dates, to make up for lost time…and now he couldn't even make it to one he'd planned himself.

“Is There Any Way It Can Be Delayed-”

“No. They broke Asriel’s arm. Frisk gave two concussions.”

He snorted in spite of himself; scrappy little fucker, the mage child was. “Fine. I'd Like An Order Billed To The Royal Account, From Muffet’s Patisserie, To Be Delivered.”

Her voice was bored. “Address and order?”

He rattled off his idea; she confirmed it, and that was that.

Your sleepy noise came from behind him in the kitchen as he glared at his phone; he turned, then smiled despite himself as you snuggled into his chest. “Morning…what's up? Nothing good, from the look of it.”

“Apparently The Queen’s Children And Friends Got Into Quite The Fight At School, And Now The Parents Of The Little Shits Are Wailing And Moaning At The Gates, With A Delightful Little KKK-Wannabe Group Behind Them.”

You sighed. “So no breakfast?” 

He hugged you close. “I'm Sorry. If It Was Anyone Else But Toriel Or Asgore, I Could Refuse. I Do Have A Surprise For You Though, It Should Be Waiting At Your House. I Know You Said You Had Meetings At Noon, Perhaps It Can Make Them A Bit More Tolerable.”

Snuggly and sweet, you nuzzled into his hold. “Mmhm. Something about the hospital education department, the outreach director wants to talk to me. Probably some local college wants to have me teach a course, it's happened before. Builds good will.”

Gaster smiled. “I Can See You Being An Excellent Teacher. If This Takes Me Until Tomorrow, Then I’ll Either Go To The Store Myself Or Send Someone To Replace My Phone. I Missed You Too Badly, These Last Few Days.”

-

It did take until ‘tomorrow’, Saturday…and into Sunday as well. Two and a half days of nonsense. 

Gaster was so bored.

Papyrus had dropped off a new phone by Friday evening. He had it in hand, texting you under the table almost constantly when it seemed Toriel wouldn't release them for the day.

You'd exclaimed over the selection of delicacies Muffet's had delivered, sending pictures of the lovely spread and confessing to him that while it all was beautiful, you struggled just a bit with Spider Monsters; the exposed fangs and multiple eyes giving you the creeps despite yourself.

It was interesting, your answers became sparse Saturday afternoon and almost non-existent by Sunday, perhaps busy doing something entertaining while he was stuck listening to old complainers talk themselves in circles for two days, and slept uncomfortably alone in palace accommodations. Then as everyone else finally adjourned around four on Sunday Toriel had pulled him aside.

His eyes widened in offense as she delivered her surprise news. A new adjunct professor was being inducted, complete with a miniature ceremony and reward of accolades for the work they'd accomplished- a human, no less, and he was expected to attend. He bit back irritation, trying to be respectful. “Do I Know Of Them? I Wasn't Included In Any Of The Usual Review Committees…Didn't Even Hear A Word.”

The Queen had patted his hand. “Oh, your approval was assumed, my dear. Now go on, hurry and get ready! Office hours for the fall session start next week, I know this is very late notice…but it was rather a stroke of genius on my part. Have a good day! And thank you, as always, for being a voice of reason. I do not know what I would do without you.”

Equally flattered by her praise and honestly upset that he hadn't been included in a decision about his own damn university, Gaster left feeling mightily put-out. 

He and Alphys met at her campus office, bitching as they half-assedly pulled on the “Idiotic, Ostentatious” “M-moronic” robes and cords that showed their status as Professor Maester Emeritus and Professor Maester et Situ- he usually kept his hanging in her coat closet. She explained what little she knew; they and some twenty or thirty others would be present to (hopefully quickly) add this mysterious first human staff-member to the roster, someone that Toriel's main assistant only hummed loftily over when Alphys called and asked after their name and association.

“The Queen wishes it to be a surprise. It is a sudden change…but she felt it was an important thing to begin…these are quite difficult times after all.” Her sweet voice was as musical as ever, an ancient Satyr who had worked at the university on behalf of Toriel since its founding. “I'm sure you will both be quite delighted to have a human on staff, even just an adjunct; perhaps it will even inspire you to visit the university you both are so important to more than once a year. And I've heard it's quite the surprise for the mysterious human as well, so be sure you are welcoming and such, Doctor Alphys…and Doctor Gaster, undoubtedly listening over your shoulder.”

He'd rolled his eyes as Alphys hung up with a snort, and wandered out to the lobby with his friend beside him. The concierge there nodded to them both. He was a Fire Elemental also in service to the crown, who turned to flag down a taxi outside the door; Alphys's office was on the opposite side of the campus from the general meeting and dining halls where this sort of event tended to take place.

They stopped for coffees in front of the building, ambling lazily; one of the perks of being a necessity at an event was that you could take your sweet, sweet time getting there. 

Finally arriving, ostentatious and eye-catching in their traditional robes- he with violet and gold trim and Alphys with yellow and gold trim- they meandered down to the small, private meeting hall, following and joining the other staff arriving who were gossiping incessantly about the event.

And it was a momentous occasion, of course it was…Gaster was happy for its occurrence. He just was genuinely hurt that he wasn't involved in the decision, and would have rather been home with you. 

So imagine his absolute, gobsmacked surprise as, upon entering the lovely root-wood and silver room, he saw you , flustered and nervous, standing at the center of a group of other staff that you obviously knew very well. 

Oh. 

Oh of course. 

It was easy to forget sometimes that you held a doctorate of your own, that you were a doctor of physical therapy, and had mentioned teaching in the past…you were practically over-qualified for this, and yet who better to choose? You'd been part of the very first blended class, had presented a thesis here for god's sake, after a year of research… 

How he loved his quietly mischievous queen.  This had Toriel's particular brand of humor written all over it.

“I'll be f-fucked,” Alphys breathed beside him, a grin spreading across her face. “I thought it would be s-some random m-m-moron. Oh Eddie's g-gonna be so mad! He's at home w-with th-the kids, had to d-decline when the email w-ent out to everyone yesterday.”

Gaster rubbed the back of his neck. He knew he was smiling like an idiot, and was unable to stop himself. Had you known? Judging by your expression, there was no way you'd had too much warning; you were covering your nerves with a polite smile, lovely in a black dress and heels that made your legs look deliciously long. 

Wait, your meetings Friday afternoon; could this have been the teaching opportunity they'd wanted to talk to you about?

Alphys swatted him with a paper she was holding, making him chuckle. Oh things were so bad at the research center…and yet so good, in this moment. “You're making qu-quite the f-face, I should t-take a picture.”

He patted her on her scaley head, making her scowl at him; she hated having the low crest there ruffled. “I'm Proud Of Her, You Wretch. And Shocked As All Hell.” 

She snorted, knocking his hand away. “Get off m-me. And you kn-know Toriel likes her surprises. P-p-probably thought it was ro-romantic.” 

You still hadn't noticed him, giving him time to admire you; your face was bright and animated despite your nerves, and you were obviously on excellent terms with the staff clustered around you. 

Then the Queen herself stepped out into the low dias at one end of the room, every Monster instantly falling quiet as she took a seat on the simple chair there. One of Gaster’s first directives for this place was that there would be no airs, no royal pageantry- she didn't need it. Just her presence, and the shimmering circlet on her brow, was enough to demand respect.

Her gentle voice carried. “I know this is short notice. The decision, and the offer, graciously accepted, was only finalized yesterday. We wish we would have had more time-”

Alphys nudged him, whispering. “Ooooooh the royal we, it's back. ”

“- but certain occurrences Thursday night stole it from us. You have all heard, by now- tensions with humanity are reaching peaks across the city. This has previously happened in the past few years, and will happen again. The thing that makes this more unusual…is the organization behind it. Parents responding so wildly to a schoolyard brawl within twenty four hours, backed by private doctors, legal representatives…and now, as we just found out-”

Gaster bit back a grin as Alphys flicked him with her tail; this was an old game of theirs, giggling at the royal we. 

“-a very large, organized group of like-minded humans similarly wishing for an overblown reaction, willing to attempt murder on the lives of over a hundred and thirty of our own in retaliation. Their children were no more injured than a bike crash would, and yet they demand and offer severe consequence and restitution. Similar outbreaks of violent speech and action have occurred across the county just last night and this morning, most luckily aimed toward adults rather than our young ones.”

Toriel sighed. “Such things will happen. We-”

Gaster poked her in the ear with a magical hand; Alphys squeaked, and Toriel shot them both a quick hairy eyeball.

“-monitor the spikes and falls of bigotry, acting toward unification where we can and encouraging safety and justice where we can't. We all manage and weather these times as best as we can.”

This time, after such a string of ‘we's’, their Queen looked directly at them; Gaster bit the inside of his cheek until it bled rather than laugh at the obvious bait, and saw Alphys dig a thumb claw into her palm from the corner of his eye. Then he made the mistake of glancing over at you across the room; you were covering your lips with a handful of papers, but he could see the mirth in your eyes over them. You'd noticed him, and had seemingly caught on to what he and Alphys were doing; it was almost impossible not to laugh once he saw that you were hiding your grin, he had to turn away entirely to get his shit together. 

Oh you were so beautiful, here in this place he was so proud of. His best, most important work, now something he apparently could share with you…could show off to you, and count you as a part of. 

Toriel rolled her eyes for a moment as she shot him one last look, before shifting her gaze back to the room as a whole. “All of you, please give the warmest welcome you can to your newest cohort. Look past the boundaries of blood and dust, and see the Souls that unite us all. She has accepted this task with no argument, despite its sudden offer- show her gratitude and kindness. Tolerate differences, celebrate and love them. Now I take leave of you all, to get my first few hours of sleep in three days.”

Gaster bowed deeply as the others followed suit; despite his giggles, Toriel was always an excellent speaker.

Once she'd walked out, the professors lingering around you- Hal the Tortoise, and Snicksnap the Lightning Sprite, let out dual sighs of relief. Snicksnap grinned over at him, crossing the room with Hal and you in tow.

“Oh thank god, I thought she was gonna stay for the whole thing, and then we'd have to be all formal and miserable.” He waved you up beside him. “Doctor Gaster, Doctor Alphys, might I introduce my absolute finest student.” Your eyes danced as he gave your name and accomplishments, a brief resume that made Gaster smile despite himself; it was clear the man liked you very much as a student, and was presenting you in the best light to the two most important people at the university. 

“Well hello there, Doctor Alphys…Doctor Gaster.” You shook hands first with Alphys, then him; your barely lingering touch, and the heat in your eyes as you gazed up at him, lit a fire low in his belly. “How lovely to see you both here.”

Hal turned, showing you off to the others around. Gaster couldn't look away; just under your hairline, behind your ear, a curled lock of hair bounced out of place for just a moment as you smoothed it back to reveal a dark purple bruise. Oh the sound you'd made from that, tucked on his lap as you gushed over his pants and moaned into his chest…

You glanced a single time over your shoulder, catching his eye with the slightest quirk of your brow, and Gaster knew then that you'd meant him to see.

His life was so much more interesting recently. If only he could get this idiotic food nonsense over with, so he could turn his focus to what really mattered; breaking in every office and desk he had on this damn campus with you. You burned so deliciously for him, so attentive even now as you played the stranger.

An older, stuffier Gander sniffed. “Well this is rather sudden. We were only asked our opinions last night…hardly any time to consider the ramifications at all!”

Gaster shot him a glare, but your smile as you turned was as placid as a summer lake. “Change is terribly uncomfortable, isn't it? I myself was given less than three day’s notice that this would occur, that half my week for the foreseeable future would be spent away from a workplace I've been at for over six years, the very same place I did my residency at for four years before.” Your eyes weren't smiling. “I can't tell you how nervous I was about the welcome I would receive here.”

Snicksnap glowered over your head at the Gander…what was his name again? Gaster frowned, thinking.

Summerflight, that was right. Professor Olexei Summerflight, department head of gravitational and weight-manipulating magics. Summerflight blustered, not liking the insinuation in front of the university director that he could be the cause of you not feeling welcomed.

You weren't done, fixing your eye on the Gander as your smile faded. Gaster wished he had popcorn and a seat; he'd never gotten to see this side of you, sharp and cutting in its formality. “I was, however, part of the very first class of humans who came here…and was lucky to meet such wonderful teachers.” Your graceful gesture encompassed Snicksnap, Hal, and a few others who were standing around you, plainly showing their support in the face of Summerflight’s rudeness. “They saw what I could offer and learn, beyond the bounds of bigotry. I'll be grateful forever.”

The conversation turned then, the wind taken out of the Gander's sails completely. Hal and Snicksnap told of your early escapades, your eagerness at your studies…Gaster lingered at the back of the small crowd, smiling softly as you blushed under their attention. 

Could they whine and bitch about preferential treatment? Claiming that you were chosen because Gaster was with you? Of course they could. But if they did, then another three dozen or so married couples teaching at the same university would have to undergo similar scrutiny, and Gaster knew that would get shut down very quickly. That, plus the Queen’s own endorsement, secured your place here for as long as you wanted it. He hoped it would be longer than a semester or two. 

After some time had passed, Hal clapped his hands. “Alright! Enough! I made reservations for us all over at Minnela's for seven, let's get this show on the road so we can eat! My dear, you've met a good portion of our motley little crew now…what do you say? Are you in? A first class this semester in general human physiology studies, with hopefully many more to come?”

You nodded, glancing over at Gaster with a tiny, secret smile. “I am. Though you'd better not expect much of a curriculum, with less than a week to write it and all.”

Hal snorted. “You, my dear, are exposure therapy as much as an educator for our impressionable youths. Teach what you see fit within the subject, biology, movement and some basic psychology as we discussed earlier. Just submit an outline by midterms.”

Then came the actual ceremony, informal and far more friendly than the immensely long, stuffy rites that their majesties often demanded. Still, Hal and Snick took turns reading over the old Guidances of the Sages; instructions to teach and guide, to grow and unite, to support and uplift. Hearing you give the ritual answer “So mote and so be it” to each made Gaster’s breath catch, for you were the first human to ever do so under his auspices.

Then came his part in this; Alphys handed him a new black robe, made of finest spider silk and edged in dark blue with a white border- showing the wearer was human. A heraldry unused for a thousand years.

He stepped forward behind you, holding it over your shoulders, and the moment felt more intimate than a kiss. It didn't help that, should he marry you someday, he'd do exactly the same; draping a cloak over your shoulders, showing his oath to protect and provide for you.

When he spoke quietly, he saw you tremble for just a moment, your earrings shaking and glittering in the warm light of the lovely room, and wondered if you understood the suggestiveness of it as well. In a way, this was a wedding, but traditionally of your house and bloodline to the university, its protection and support. His protection and support. It made his Soul flip in his chest.

“Never Ignorant, Never Complacent. Never Manipulating Truth, Never Stifling Inquiry. Do You Vow To Wield Both Spell and Mind With Responsibility, Always For The Pursuit Of Enlightenment And The Betterment Of Our Realm?”

Your voice came breathy and weak for a moment. “I-I do.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Alphys smile and look down for a moment, doubtless seeing the romance of the moment that he did. 

Then, with infinite care, he draped the light black robe over your shoulders, imagining it was a heavy violet cloak instead, and filled with excitement by the idea.

“Then, Be Greeted By Your Fellows, And Know That You Are Welcome.”

A cheer went up that echoed from the vaulted ceiling. 

 

Notes:

The hardest part of being a writer is laying the roots for scenes that you're DESPERATE to share, but won't make a lick of sense for chapters and chapters yet. I've had this in mind since I started this fic months and months ago; it was one of the first things I ever wrote, back in March when I got the initial inklings of an idea for a more modernized Gaster.

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 12: Comfort

According to Alphys’ occasional text, dinner was a loud, happy affair. Many of the older staff had opted not to attend, sending their well-wishes along and retiring home for the night; Gaster loathed to miss it himself, but he'd never attended one before and didn't want to ‘other’ you by going now. He'd asked Alphys to explain before she left with you; your wink over your shoulder showed you weren't cross with him. 

You texted him as you were rushed out the doors, asking him to meet at your place that night; he drove over and settled in happily, sending a quick text to Sans and Poppy of where he was on the very, very slight chance that something miraculous happened at the lab between then and Monday, and asking Sans to water his Glories.

Then he waited, the TV turned down low. There was a heat in his belly after that ceremony, one that made him long for you, itching for your touch to calm the embers within.

When your car finally pulled up he nearly leapt out of his bones with eagerness, meeting you at your kitchen door with a kiss and a crushing hug.

“I Am So, So Proud Of You, You Rotten Minx. You Didn't Tell Me?”

Your laugh was music as it shook you against his chest. “I just found out Friday afternoon, so I wanted it to be a surprise! That was what those meetings were for, they only told me then. But here, let me get changed.” You slid from his grasp. “Make me an old fashioned, everything's on the counter over there. My nerves are shot, I need out of this dress.”

He saluted with a grin, meandering over and mixing you both a drink as he listened to the soft sounds you made from your bedroom. When you re-emerged, talking on your phone excitedly, he pointed your drink out and wandered back out to the living room once you gave him a thumbs-up. He'd started reading some bodice-ripper romance novel that you'd left out on the coffee table and picked it back up now, deeply entertained and a bit turned on by the silliness of the writer’s descriptions- it stoked the desire already inside him.

Just the sight of you was a lovely treat- you'd opted for pajama shorts so short he could see the curve of your rear beneath them, along with a matching tanktop. All that smooth skin, so deliciously on display for him…you were telling someone what had happened the past two days, gesturing so animatedly with your drink that you risked it splashing over. Then you leaned over on the center island, propping your elbows there as you did, and his imagination did wonderful things with how the position arched your back, especially when you went up onto your tiptoes as you exclaimed over something the other person said; he could hear now that it was Papyrus, yelling with excitement as you laughed. 

Finally, finally you finished your conversation, leaving your phone on the island as you sipped your drink and gazed at him.

He cocked a brow. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. There's just a terribly handsome man on my couch. Director of a university you know, very impressive resume.”

Gaster smiled, blushing faintly as he waved off the compliment. 

“No More Impressive Than The Newest Staff Member He Robed Today.”

Your voice was a soft murmur. “About that…” 

He watched as you came over, sitting your drink down on the TV stand; the clink of glass on wood felt over-loud as you came toward where he sat on the couch, sweet and pretty for him. There was a heat in your gaze that called to something equally exciting in himself. “I couldn't help but notice…well, I went to Firefly's wedding, last year. It…”

He nodded. “The Similarity Is Purposeful. But…The Aforementioned Director Has Never Cared So Deeply For The One He Robed, Before.”

You were quiet for an over-long time, gazing at him as you turned something over in your mind. Then, you took a step forward.

“I…missed you, these past couple days.” Your voice was quiet. “But it was so nice to see you at the university. I never would have expected…my life has changed so much, with you in it.”

He nodded, barely breathing. He knew that look in your eye, had seen it more than a few times himself, in his old life. It made him a bit giddy, fumbling and excited.

You wanted him, and you meant to have him.

“ I'm Sorry…I Wanted To Be With You, Trust Me. But The Queen Demanded My Presence, The Whole Nonsense With The School. And Then…Well, You Deserve The Accolades. You'll Be An Excellent Asset To Us All, A Jewel Of The University.”

You blushed, smiling. Another step closer, and Gaster could see a leftover glitter of makeup on your collarbones. Almost subconsciously he adjusted how he sat, sliding further back on the cushion, opening his arms and closing his thighs a bit…an invitation. 

“It just…felt important for you to know. That I missed you, I mean.”

He licked his dry lips, his belly swooping in excitement. “I Missed You Too.” Then, because you blinked at him with such sweetness at his words, as if he wasn't smitten with you and you didn't know it, he bit back his own nervousness and confessed, “I Am So Proud Of You...”  

Honesty pushed up behind his tongue.“...And I Love You.”

Your knees were almost touching his; he leaned forward to meet you, then closed his good eye with a sigh as you reached out, hesitating with your hand a centimeter from his face. So close, he could feel your warmth. 

“And I love you…so much.” There was a tremble in your voice that lit something hot in his Soul. Leaning forward just a bit more, he pressed his cheek to your palm, practically purring at your touch.

“Did you…the robe, the university…did it make you think…?”

He opened his eye, hungry to see your expression- the open, nervous affection and desire there made him clench his teeth for a moment, overwhelmed by this proof of something he'd never have imagined for himself.

“It's All I Could Think About.”

Reaching forward with your other hand, you stroked your fingers down the side of his neck. “I think I'd like to be all public and official with you, let more folks know than just our family and friends.” A tiny smile came over your face. “I'm rather taken with you, you know.”

Oh, oh the giddiness that filled him with those words. Still, he had to say something.

“I'm Not An Easy Man.” His throat cracked and broke on the words, but he powered through. “Cold. Harsh-”

“Intelligent. Driven, passionate. Immensely caring, taking the weight of your people on your shoulders, over and over again. Helping all of them, over and over again.” You bent just a little- sitting as he was, he was already almost at an equal height with you. “So much love, terrible love, that you would hurt yourself to save them all.” 

Oh it was too much- he could feel a blush rising, the heat prickling along his cheeks. 

Your lips brushed his forehead, speaking words into him like a blessing.

“You deserve to be happy, too. We deserve to be happy.” 

He was helpless in the face of you; his hands came up, cupping behind your thighs. Not pulling, not insistent, but an invitation. One that drew a tiny gasp from your lips.

You were trembling beneath his fingers.

“I want to make you happy.”

The breath left him in a rush; he jerked forward, pressing his lips to yours to catch the taste of your words as he answered, “You Always Do.”

Oh how sweet the tiny noise in your throat was, the cool, fast intake of air through your nose, your lips so soft and wanting against his. 

He almost pulled back, ever the person to retreat, to hide and fall behind himself. But you whispered, “No…” and pulled him back in with your hands on his face, and he was lost, returning again and again. It was like drowning in the best way; he'd never been so breathless as with you, so desperate to stay connected to a woman that he had to tear himself away to gasp between her kisses. Your skin was pebbled with goosebumps of excitement, and that unfeignable proof of your interest made him sigh brokenly, running his palms up and down the backs of your legs for the enjoyment of their softness. Then your tongue pressed against his lip softly, and he couldn't help himself- he pulled, gently, asking you without words to please, please come down to light on him, to crowd him with your weight and your thighs and your chest pressed to his.

So you did. 

---

God, but sometimes the man kissed like he was starving. Falling into his lap, your knees coming to bracket his thighs, you felt a distant, sisterly gratitude to the women who had come before you, who taught him to do this so well.

Or maybe it was just him. His focus, his need, pouring into you wordlessly in a way he couldn't always bring himself to express aloud. His hands smoothed up over your ass, the small of your back, your shoulders, stroking and squeezing and pulling and pressing, making you gasp as his tongue gently, almost shyly touched yours. As shy as that first time in his bedroom. 

It made you clench, your body yearning hotly for something to squeeze around, to pull in deeply enough to make you cry out- it was madness, maddening, and you moaned brokenly into his mouth, opening to him so he could trace along your lips softly, the purple glow of his tongue shining up through the bones under your eyes as he did. Your hands were restless, wanting to grip and stroke him, tracing along his head, his neck, his slim, elegant shoulders as he tore away from you with a broken groan, mouthing down your jaw as you whispered his name. 

“Gaster, Gaster, please…”

You didn't know what you were asking for exactly in the moment, how far this would go…just anything to relieve this need, this heat and desperation to be closer, to have something pressed between your legs before you wept for want of him. How did he do it? How did he make you like this?! First at the university, cloaking you like he was your husband, and now, and now…

He kissed along your jawline, then sucked at the join of it and your neck, making you shake with pleasure and sink down fully onto his lap, pressing your core against the hardness between his legs that shot heat down your spine like hot oil pouring down your back. You both moaned; he bent to press his brow to your shoulder as he rocked up into you and pulled you down by your hips, grinding hard enough that you cried out, “Please!”

Gaster groaned, a rumble in his chest as he licked a stripe up behind your ear, sucking on the shell and making you sob. “What Do You Want?” he whispered, his grip falling to cup your ass, helping to move you back and forth on top of him, the thinly-clothed saddle of your pussy fitting perfectly over his cock. It made you feel how wet you were, soaked for him, from his touch and taste and the sound of his beautiful, broken voice.

“You, god you, please, I-”

…!

Both of you jumped as someone knocked on your door. 

You growled at the interruption, baring your teeth- who could be here this late? Gaster looked delighted by your fierceness, his hands tightening around you as he bit gently at your shoulder.

“Ignore Them, Pretty Girl,” he murmured, and that struck you like a slap; he wasn't often one for any type of pet names, and the sound of it raced from your ear to your pussy. He knew it too- his grin was open and sweet, full of cleverness as you blinked liquidly at him. 

But they knocked again, and then a voice called, “Dr. Gaster? Are you in? Sorry for the late hour, but…”

You lost track of their words as Gaster rolled his eyes. “Miserable Idiots,” he grumbled. Then he stood easily, lifting you with him; you locked your legs instinctually behind his back as you gasped.

A few quick steps and he kicked open your bedroom door, depositing you gently on the bed. You stared up at him, your legs splaying in invitation as you caught yourself on your elbows, and god but the satisfaction of seeing his jaw clench, his eye roving over you.

“Stay Here A Moment. I Need To Make Sure This Doesn't Become A Habit.”

Inwardly, distantly at the moment because almost all of your thinking mind was drowning in how badly you wanted him to absolutely break you in half , you filled with pride that he was setting this boundary with what were undoubtedly some very errant employees.

“Okay,” you murmured, smiling up at him and reaching back to unhook your bra. He tried to back out of the room without looking away from you, swearing when he tripped over an errant pair of sweatpants as you pulled it from under your shirt, tossing it away. “Hurry.”

He nodded sharply with a dirty grin, only turning away when he reached the doorway.

---

Gaster adjusted himself, using every magical trick he knew to try and convince his body that it didn't need a cock for the next few minutes. It insisted that it did, for that beautiful girl he was walking away from who looked at him like he held every treasure she ever wanted, and for her body that begged him to make love to her so thoroughly that she passed out in his arms, to be held and kept safe through the night. 

That made him stop in the middle of the room, completely heedless of the knocking that rang out once more. He wanted this forever. He wanted to feel you beside him every night, to enjoy the simple pleasure of a snoring, sprawling woman stealing his pillow and putting her cold feet on his legs. 

He'd never been rude before, it wasn't his nature…at least, not in matters of the bedroom. But every woman prior, there'd been an expectation of shared pleasure, and then friendly separation. Nothing like this. Nothing so deep and loving, so profound.

Then again, he'd never been so stricken before, in love and out of his depth with it. And that thought made him grin up at the ceiling, stupid and silly and terribly fond of the woman, his woman, only a few steps away from him. 

“Doctor Gaster? Doctor Gaster! Poppy said you might be home, we wanted to-” 

He crossed the room, debated being stern, hateful and harsh…but what was the fucking point? The situation was comedic enough that he almost laughed. 

Opening the front door, he leaned against the frame and cocked a brow down at the two Lemur Monsters who shrank down under his bemused stare, their car idling in the driveway.

He placed the names after a moment- Cinder and Clint, from finance. Clint had a bright, impersonal smile on his face, but Cinder looked…vaguely confused, with slowly widening eyes.

“And What Can I Do For You Two, At Nine O’Clock On A Sunday Night? No Dates? Won't Your Wives Complain?”

His humor disturbed them more than any harshness he could have summoned- they exchanged a quick look. 

And wasn't this all at least partially his fault? He'd established, after years of constant grind without rest, that he was willing to work at all hours of the day, every day, at the expense of all else. Constantly available, always putting himself last.

Still, he highly doubted Poppy had told them to come here. Cinder hesitated, but Clint was braver and brasher than his brother. “Yes hello sir, good evening yes yes yes, we were wondering if you had time for an emergency proposal sent over by the Stonecutter's Guild? It just arrived in our hands an hour ago, yes they are very sincerely interested in a partnership for the hydroponic garden spaces, and are eagerly, excitedly insistent on establishing an…exclusive…connection…” 

The man's quick, insistent speech petered off as Gaster only continued to watch him, not making any sign of a reaction or movement at all beyond a slow smirk.

Cinder nudged his brother, and Clint fell silent. 

He couldn't help himself- a terribly undignified snort left him as the two men floundered in these unsure waters. Then he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, because that would really throw them off balance. 

“Hmmm, The Stonecutter's Guild? Not, If I Recall, The Very Same Guild That Your Parents And Sisters Are Members Of?”

Cinder nodded sharply. “...yes. So, of course, we can attest to the quality of their work.” He glanced from Gaster to his twin, and back again, then in at the house that was very obviously decorated with a feminine touch. “This…isn't a good time, is it?”

“I'm Afraid Not.”

“This isn't your house, is it?”

“Nope.”

Cinder smacked his brother on the shoulder. “Dipshit! Did you ask Poppy for his address, or did you ask where he was ?”

Clint bit his lip, hesitating. “Perhaps, perchance feasibly…the second.”

Cinder's eyes got very wide. Then, to Gaster's fond bemusement, for he really was lucky to have coworkers who cared for him despite his terrible prickliness, the other man smiled for just a moment before immediately wiping his face smooth. “We are so sorry for interrupting, Doctor, have a lovely evening.” He jabbed his brother in the side. “Move! Go!”

Gaster closed the door…and then caught his reflection in the window. Faint pink color was smeared across his mouth, his cheek, and down his jaw, stark against his white bones. There was a perfect lip print on the side of his neck.

His lips quivered; then he laughed so hard he had to brace himself on the wall. No wonder Cinder had given him such a look! From your bedroom he heard an evil snicker, and that made him laugh all the harder when he realized the little trick you'd played on him. He stalked back in to find you laid back on the pillows with your hair fanned out and your shirt undone, giggling mischievously. 

“I Hope You're Happy, You Brat. Cinder Nearly Had A Stroke.” He tried for firmness, and only accomplished the gentlest of chastisements- you were too sweet, laying there in the center of the bed like a present for him, a look of unapologetic satisfaction in your eye. 

“I was just adding to your argument!” Gaster bit the inside of his cheek as you sat up smiling, shifting so you could rest on your hip with your legs tucked to the side, closer to the edge of the mattress. Your shirt just barely covered the peaks of your breasts, pink and hard in the dim light, and he remembered wanting so badly to feel their weight in his hands that fateful day with your car, all that time ago. “You should come here.”

He nodded, half-crawling into the bed so he could kiss you again, supporting himself on one hand as he grasped your waist by the other. The plushness there made him sigh, humming with pleasure at the feel of you. “Gods, How Are You So Fucking Soft? All I Want To Do Is Touch You.”

Your answering little noise, low in your chest, was lovely. “Then touch me. Please, please… ”

How could he say no? He prowled up the rest of the way, crowding you backwards until you were on your back, your shirt splayed open on either side of your chest. Finally his prize was uncovered, your nipples hard and looking very much in need of attention. It was a relief to take one into his mouth, to feel its silken-stiffness and earn your quick intake of breath, like cool water after a hot, miserable day. As he did, he ran his hands down to your waistband, smiling into your skin as you arched up to his touch. It felt so fucking good to be wanted. He slid the soft little shorts off you, tossing them away, then fingered the band of your underwear, debating. No, he'd leave them. For now. But he didn't wait to pull them aside, to trace his fingers up the cleft between your legs as you moaned  “Yes…” , delighted and suddenly, wildly turned on by how wet you were. How badly you had to want him. 

Still sucking gently at your breast, he opened you with one finger, then two; slow, gentle pumps that had your hips moving with him in moments. When he glanced up, your head was turned into the pillow, your mouth open as you panted lightly, and fuck he wanted to feel you around his cock. He added a third as soon as you bloomed open enough to let him, wondering if he should try a fourth…but you were pulling at him now, aborted little pleas for ‘More’, and ‘Hurry’, and ‘Come on, I want you’.

He slid away, petting your flank to soothe your whine of loss and putting his fingers in his mouth for a moment to savor the tart sea salt-and-skin flavor of you. Your heady whimper told him he'd been caught, and then you pulled him up by the back of the neck, delving into his mouth with your tongue to chase your own taste. He was a bit too tall for you to reach his hips like this, but your hand running down his ribs and then, carefully, down and over the front of his spine through his shirt was an excellent consolation prize. He groaned softly as you gripped him there, tracing your fingertips around the magical join of one of the vertebrae.

You parted from him just a bit. “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes…” 

He enjoyed your touch for a moment, his hips rocking in tiny, wanting movements as you learned his body, sliding your hand up under his shirt and smiling sweetly as he panted out your name. “We should have done all of this sooner, back when I was going to school in the Underground. Can you imagine the scandal? Doctor Gaster, professor emeritus, railing a student on his desk…”

Gaster nodded fervently. “The Newspapers Would Have Been Delighted, I'm Sure.”

Reaching up, he grabbed a pillow from beside your head, then escaped your grasp and slid a hand under your back, lifting you to put it beneath your hips. “I'm Too Damn Tall,” he muttered with past experience, setting you back down as you stared up at him in surprise. “Makes It Easier.”

Your giggle was rich and almost shocked. “Goodness…this'll be something else then.”

He stood ungracefully, unbuttoning his shirt. “Er, Why?” It was terribly hard to focus on the buttons when you had slid off your shirt entirely and were playing with your breasts, stroking your hands over them and squeezing them together. 

You blushed- blushed! Naked save for a pair of little panties, splayed open to his eyes and moments away from sex, and now you blushed. “Oh…oh, gosh, um…”

Chuckling, he finally got the damn thing loose, tossing it away as he toed off his shoes and socks. “What A Scandalous Swear, I'm Telling Papyrus.”

“Hush.” You were watching him so closely now, tracing the line of his body with hunger in your face. “No I just…well,  it makes sense, that you wouldn't know. Human women, there's this place, inside…”

His eye falling half-shut, he nodded at the memory; the feeling of you gasping into his shoulder when he'd found the right angle that first, delicious time with his hand would stay with him forever. 

“Well, this is like, a thing people do to, you know…hit that spot. Every single time, during sex. It's…intense.” The sound of his belt hitting the ground, taking his pants with it, brought something hot and excited into your expression. “I thought you were just showing off.” 

He crawled up over you, stopping to press his face between your breasts just to inhale the scent of your skin, and shook his head. “No, I Had No Idea. If It's Too Much…”

Your voice was a hot whisper against the top of his head as you pressed a kiss there. “Maybe I want it to be...“

That made his breath catch; he closed his eye, turning his head to kiss the curve of your breast as his magic pooled with insistence between his legs. “Have You Ever Been With A Monster?”

You shook your head, running your hands over his skull and down his neck and shoulders. “Only you.” He hummed, darkly pleased by that, and licked a light, slow stripe over your reddened nipple, then blew on it to hear you squeak. 

“Our Souls Get Involved. There…Isn't Really A Human Equivalent. Maybe Like… If A Man Pulls Out? But More Of A Polite ‘No Thanks’?” You snorted, gently swatting his shoulder as you widened your legs to cradle him between, and he grinned up at you. “I'm Actually Quite Serious. Unless You Want A Little Bouncing Hybrid Baby Running Around, When My Soul Offers, You Need To Tell It ‘No’. The Offer Isn't My Choice, It's Yours. I Literally Can't Stop It.”

You cocked your head, smiling terribly fondly at him, and he thrust himself up on his elbows to loom over you, using his knee to sweep your thigh up further. “You Are Trained In Intention…And I Trust You. Human And Monster Women Have Always Been Able To Accept Or Refuse. It's Hard To Explain Until It Happens…But I've Been Told It's A Very Straightforward Sensation. Monster Children Cannot Be Made By Accident.”

That earned him a kiss, hot and longing; you sucked his lower lip as you parted, making him groan and drop his hips to press to yours. Your rising arch was delicious, to feel the heat of you so close to where he wanted it.

“Thanks for the heads up,” you murmured. “Oh, you look so fucking good right now, god, I can't get over it.”

He smoothed a hand up your side then slid it beneath your shoulders, dropping back and bending to suck at your nipples in earnest as he pulled you upward slightly to meet him. It was delightful to discover all these new things about human women, about you. Long, showy licks made you sigh, smiling as you watched him with lidded eyes. But a small, quick, repetitive suckling motion,  almost like a babe at your breast, as he flicked his tongue quickly? That made you go quiet and liquid in his arms, your breath deepening as you murmured “O-ohhhhh…” into the pillows. Pressed together as you both were, he groaned into your flesh when you wrapped your leg up and around his thigh, pulling him harder down with urgency; he could feel how wet you were through both thin layers of cloth. 

Opening his eye, for it had fallen shut in enjoyment at some point, he watched your face as he let your back rest fully on the mattress again, his hand straying to your hips as he followed you down with a single, hard suck that ended in the barest touch of his teeth. Your blink was so slow and languid that it looked as if it were captured in slow motion; your lips parting as a tiny, broken noise escaped you. 

His infinite patience snapped like brittle ice. Your underwear was tossed somewhere in the room, his shoved down enough to free his almost painfully hard length. 

 He fell back, hiking your leg higher over one arm, and rubbed the head of his cock up and down your pussy, coating it with your wetness and nearly scoffing at how small your entrance looked in comparison. “I'm Half Afraid To Hurt You…This Looks So Tiny Compared To Me. Monster Women…Their Body Is Made Of Magic, It Shifts With Their Desire.”

You smiled. “So does mine, in a way. Everything you've done, everything we've done, getting me ready for you. It'll be a stretch, god knows…but I want it to be.” Your voice was a purr. “I'll feel it all tomorrow, when I walk and sit down…and I'll think of you because of it.”

He had to close his eye for a moment, squeezing his cock and staving off a warning twinge of orgasm at your words. “The Things You Say...Alright. Alright.”

He took himself in hand and pressed the tip to you, and there was a thrilling, melting moment of resistance, of opening and stretching…and then your body parted for him, and Gaster slid a third of the way in, releasing himself and grabbing your knee as an anchor.

So hot. Impossibly tight, and all encompassing. So tight that he literally couldn't move, trapped as your pussy locked down around him. Absolutely nothing like a Monster woman, nothing at all, he was lost, ruined.

Then he looked up sharply as a single breath exploded from your lips, your brows drawing tightly together.

---

It was too much. It was incredible, a stretch that satisfied something feral and female and bone deep, he was huge… and despite how amazing it was…it was too much. You quite literally couldn't take him, a warning pinch of not-yet-pain rippling through the muscles of your core in a way it hadn't since you first lost your virginity.

Gaster froze as soon as the breath left your lungs, blinking down at you and panting with sensation. “A-Are You Alright?”

That was…a hard question. “Ah, um…well, yes? You're-” you tried to move, a sharp ache freezing you in place as he hissed at the sensation. “-you're huge, it's- ugh, fuck, it's a lot, and it's been a really long ti-”

“ F-fffuck… ”

Whether it was your words or the impossible clench of your pussy around him, Gaster’s eye rolled back, his fingers digging into where he held your knee and thigh. His cock flexed, swelling for just a moment, and it nearly made you call the whole thing off because shit, that actually kind of hurt now, he was already stretching you to your absolute limit…

…and then something hot and wet filled you, his length twitching as he grit his teeth and panted, his head hanging for a moment. You'd giggled at the soft purple glow, the time on your kitchen counter, and then again between his knees in your garden; who could blame you? Shimmery, magical purple cum was a little funny. 

But there was something…oddly erotic about seeing it softly bloom and glow from inside you, the faintest light, toned warm and pink by your human body…

…and the pain eased. The impossible, aching stretch disappeared- still tight, still stretching and full to the point of stuffed, but not unbearably so. Warmth, tingling and magical, spread through you. 

It was such a relief, allowing you to think of more than the immediate “ow, fuck”...and then you smiled softly, for it had truly been a long time for him. Who could blame him for finishing so soon, sweet thing…?

Only…he didn't soften. Didn't even move to pull away. Just took a deep, shaky breath, his eye fluttering open to fix on you. “Th-This Is…Indescribable. God, Please Tell Me You're Alright, It's So Hard To Stay Still I'm Trying… ” 

As if to punctuate his words, you felt his thighs tremble between yours for just a moment, and realized the restraint of this man. Years, years without sex, and still he held himself back for you. Stilled himself even as a small orgasm crashed through him…though seemingly not for the last time that night. 

You gave a tiny, testing rock of your hips, taking him just a bit deeper, and he hissed, his voice low with warning. “Please, My Love I Don't Want To Hurt You, I Can't…Andromeda Preserve Me, Tell Me To Stop, But I…You…”

The pet name sank into your heart like water into parched earth; all you had to do was reach for him and he bent to your grasp, releasing your leg to press his forehead to yours as he dropped to his fists, then his elbows.

“It's okay now,” you murmured, drunk on desire and a little awe, because this was magic, it had to be, yet it was completely different than any you'd ever experienced. Like so much about him, there was no grandiose display, no flashy pageantry or spellcraft. It was like his body itself produced magic, worked magic, as naturally as you drew breath and your heart beat, shaping a power you couldn't consciously understand but instinctively connected to. It knew it was hurting you, and so it made it stop. As simple and beautiful as that. 

“You're okay. It did ache a little…but now it doesn't. You…did something?” Shifting your hips again, you brought up a thigh to bend behind his, and used your heel to pull him deeper, taking him in a slow, silken, clenching glide to the root. 

It made you feel terribly powerful, to hear the almost pained grunt that left him, his fists clenching so tight beside your head that you could hear the bones of his hands clatter and creak, his eye squeezing shut, and still he didn't move. Still he waited for you.

“Please,” you whispered, your pussy fluttering and squeezing around the thickest intrusion it had ever felt. “Please, oh please move, Oh Gaster please, please -”

He rocked out and back in, one long, unbroken thrust that brought him out to his tip, and then buried him back down to his deepest inside you, and the noise that left you then would have been mortifying if the pleasure hadn't wiped shame from your mind. This is what a g-spot is for, you thought muzzily as he opened his eye, staring greedily at your face as he did it again. If the man you're with is big enough, thick enough, my god it's the entire time…it's the entire length, it's incredible, it's so good-

“I've Always Been That Way…I Never Knew Why It Happened, Except Perhaps Just Some Personal Quirk …” God but he sounded as ruined as you felt. “I Never Thought There Might Be More Of A Reason-”

You stole any further words he had away with a kiss, needing suddenly to touch him even more than you already were. His cool, smooth lips soothed your burning ones as his porcelain ribs pressed gently into your breasts. He gasped into your open mouth, his hips speeding as you locked your other leg behind him too, entirely open to him and encouraging him down and in with your heels.

It felt good too, in a scale-balancing way, that you were as new to him as he was to you. Here was a man literally ancient in age and magic, but lying here, bare and panting together, you were the sweetest of equals. 

And god but he felt so good, so insanely good now. Thick and insistent, bodily spreading you open with each thrust in, and dragging your sensitive lips and clit over his length each time he pulled back out. It made you laugh out a moan, overstimulated in the best way as you climbed closer and closer to a truly astounding orgasm the longer he went, the longer he kept that amazing rhythm.

Gaster swore, the sound bitten off between clenched teeth, and crowded you into his arms, shoving his knees under you and speeding his movements. “God I Can Feel That, I…Are You Getting Closer? I Swear I Can Feel You…You…”

You nodded, almost feverishly, knotting your hands in your own hair and blankets for something to hold onto. That single spurt had eased his way and heated you like an aphrodisiac, sensitized and half-drunk on the feeling of his magic working inside you. And just the knowledge that his body had done it for you, that he literally had a way, a natural sort of quirk, to bring you greater pleasure, to ensure he didn't hurt you…you'd never cum before just from sex, had always needed a hand or toy involved…and now you were going to. From the feel of him, from the knowledge of who he was, of what you could do together. From the way he stared at you with desperate, molten love in his expression, it was intense, more than intense, it was insane, you were going to explode from it, fuck-

“It's so much, it's so good, I can't…Gaster, please, o h my god!”

It was overwhelming, truly overwhelming, making you try to get away from it, but his hold on you wouldn't let you flee. You thought you'd had good orgasms before, toe curling and loud- no. You cast a blurry sympathy back to the you of yesteryears, who'd thought she knew what pleasure was. Your pussy tried to tighten, tried to lock down and flutter and clench, but was forced back open again and again. It made you shake, made you bare your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut in what was probably an incredibly ungraceful expression, but you didn't care because god you were cumming, cumming from nothing else besides his insistent, silk-steel cock inside you, and it was the most astounding, jaw-clenching thing you'd ever felt. 

It spread like a crashing wave, dragging you under and making you cry out in some wordless, almost guttural explosion of noise, a wildcat's scream, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramped, your abs shaking, your thighs shaking, your body fighting to force him out as Gaster cursed thickly and fought his way back in again and again. He slid an arm under your back as you arched, bending to suck at a nipple while he held you down despite your writhing and clutching at his arms, and it made your ears roar, made your vision go fuzzy and black along the edges as your entire body curved up toward him, your pussy so full of pleasure that it made you feel feral, straining…

You collapsed back, your arms falling limp to either side of your head as you gasped for breath, your breasts bouncing with each of his thrusts as you swore your mind would wipe clean from how well he fucked you. Not a single break in his rhythm even as you'd cum, crying out and clawing at his wrists, and now God only knew what noises left your mouth as your body twisted as tight as a bowstring, wildly overstimulated but somehow still pried open again, and again, and again. It was maddening, it was ruinous, you weren't sure you'd ever find this again in the world- this sobbing, insistent pleasure at the hands of a man who bent his head and fucked you like it was his calling. 

You felt liquid-hot, molten and churning as he plunged that unfairly thick dick in and out of you, his rhythm changing to be deeper, more insistent, and at that you had to open your eyes, because you could feel it, you could tell by the way he moved, Gaster was about to cum inside you. A full orgasm, harsh and delicious, and it was going to break him open in your arms.

You could feel it in the way his grip dropped, moving from your hips to the crease of your thighs for a better grip, hard to the point of bruising- if it were any other moment, it would hurt. And you could feel it in the change of strength, his hips snapping into yours with an almost bouncing, slapping sound that made you hiss out a breath from how filthy it was.

His face was something for art; the definition of shock at his own pleasure, and an almost daunted, frightened look at how quickly it was overtaking him. It called you in spite of your trembling weakness, making you cradle his head down in your hands, kissing his lips, his eyes, everywhere you could reach as he whined deliciously in his throat. 

"S-Sweetheart, I...I Can't..."

God this man. You loved this wild, reforged man. 

"It's okay...it's okay, g-god you feel so good, come on, oh please, please let me feel it..."

His thrusts were getting sloppy, his body taking over as his eye rolled back, grunting through his teeth. Smiling even as you moaned with each time he bottomed out inside you, you nodded as if to answer his desperation, sliding one hand down between your legs. You'd never been able to cum more than once during sex before...but you'd never been with someone who had such stamina before, such unbreaking rhythm. And just the raw desire on his face, the unguarded way that pleasure made him shake and moan...it was so unbelievably, unimaginably fucking hot.

He noticed your hand instantly. "Fuck Yes, Touch Yourself, Please-" Rearing back, he pulled you up into his lap and began fucking you with somehow greater vigor, the new angle letting you both look down and see where the two of you were joined, where your fingers moved quickly over your hyper-sensitive clit, where the glow of him shimmered out faintly from inside your body...oh god, you could see how deep he was, you could see him moving in and out from inside you.

The second orgasm hit you with absolutely no warning, no build up, no curling, building squeezing sensation from your toes to your pussy. Just a sharp, sudden, almost convulsive thunderclap of pleasure that ripped you half-screaming, half-sobbing to the peak and left you there, uncontrolled and wild as he forced himself back into your spasming body, and you reached up and nearly tore the pillow in half from the overwhelm of it all.

"Gaster!"

" Oh Fuck Oh F-Fuck-"

His voice broke, his magic swelled, and as a tear leaked from the corner of your eye, Gaster fell forward over you, bending you almost in half, and came. 

So hard he left a pink handprint on your breast, so hard that he shook, his thighs trembling and jerking as his hips grinded down and into you, as deep as he could possibly get. Then he'd pull back slightly, madly pumping in and out as if to work the next spurt up his cock before driving himself back down to the root again, an instinctive movement that elicited a deep, raspy groan with each plunge. You could feel it filling you, hot and wet, and how his length jumped with each new load, so much that it was spurting out around him. It was filthy, lewd, so overtly sexual and desperate that it almost felt like you shouldn't witness it- he was such a private man, and never showed weakness. But it was clear that he needed you, for he called your name with each fresh rush, pressing his face into your hands as you petted him, panting open-mouthed into your palm as he released your hips to fall forward and prop himself on his elbows. 

It was fascinating, the difference between a human man and this. You wondered if this was a one-time thing, borne of far too many years of loneliness and repression, or if he would always be so subsumed by pleasure, his orgasm lasting longer than yours as you began to rock with him. 

The reminder of his unique ancestry made you think of your previous learnings in intention, and determination, and how much Monsters could change and adapt to a human's will…made you think of him on the swing, whining and growling as you drew his pleasure out. Could you affect him, even now?

‘I want everything you want to give me. Don't hold back, don't try to ‘make it human’. It's been so long for you, love…take your pleasure, take it from my body. As long as you can, as long as you want to.’

Perhaps the thought was a bit flowery, but you defied any woman to see the beauty above you right now and not be moved to poetry. And, glory of glories, it did affect him. He breathed your name against your lips, the frantic pumping of his hips easing to a deeper, speeding then slowing, cresting and falling rhythm...the peak of each rewarding you with another flood of cum, hot and deep within. 

You realized he'd been trying to rush himself, to get his orgasm ‘over with’ lest its length bother you somehow…silly man. Moving with him, you kissed his slack mouth, then turned your head so he could nestle into your neck, holding you there oh-so-gently with his teeth. His racing breaths slowed the tiniest bit, a soft groan on each that sometimes cracked into almost a whimper with each peak.

It might have been a few minutes, maybe longer- it was impossible to guess. You were entranced by the trembling man on top of you, who began to alternate murmuring broken words in a language you didn't know against your skin and simply breathing against you once he released you from his teeth. Struck with inspiration, you bore down, clenching and fluttering around him when he crested the next wave of pleasure, and sighed with satisfaction as he whispered “ Oh.. mihi placuisti…yes…” against your skin, his cock jumping within you from it. His gently-rocking hips stuttered, moving with just a bit more force thanks to the feeling of your body squeezing his length, and you slid your hand between the two of you to ek a third, effortless orgasm from your body as he murmured praise in your ear.

“Would That You Could Feel That, All Around Me…So Deep, Inside Of You, I Can Feel You...”

And then you felt it as the pleasure washed through you; indescribable, yet undeniable as a person asking a question in your ear. All of the magic inside you, soaking you, seeping into you and changing you just the tiniest bit…did you want it to coalesce? Were you asking for it to nest inside you, to find that impossibly delicate piece of you, formed while you were still in your own mother’s womb, and wrap around it, cradle it…and make you a mother yourself?

It was so beautiful of a sensation, so sweet and pure and kind, that you nearly teared up. ‘No, please,’ you answered voiceless, easily, with love. ‘Thank you. Not this time.’

There was no judgment or disappointment in the magic, no feeling of loss. Just loving acceptance of your answer and dispersal into your body, as Gaster went absolutely limp on top of you, bird-like in his lightness and shaking in your arms. His length faded inside you, making you giggle a bit as your side of the bed was absolutely soaked the moment it was no longer there to hold his essence in your body; you'd definitely need a towel next time.

---

“Thank You,” he hoarsely whispered, when he finally collected himself enough to do more than breathe, wincing at the bright pink marks left behind on your neck. “Thank You.” There'd be time to think of what had just happened later, to consider the wordless, voiceless change in your very presence under him that had allowed him to act as his own nature demanded…but that could wait, for now. You opened your eyes, smiling over at him as he fell gracelessly beside you in a clatter of bones and tried to remember how to function again.

“...that was the hottest, most amazing thing I've ever experienced in my life. I am absolutely ruined for human men. You've ruined me.” You sounded, for once, as rough as he usually did. He snorted, weakly draping an arm over his eyes as he grinned. “I'm Not At All Sorry.”

You snuggled into his side, wrapping around him and pulling the blankets up over you both, and then such a peace that Gaster had never known before came over him. After some time, yawning, you made a little noise. “Gaster?”

“Hm?” He hadn't been asleep really, just dozing in contentment.

“I can see your magic inside you now…I think. Outlining your body. We can figure it out later, just…it's lovely. Like I can see all of you...in a way I never could before.”

He glanced over- the purple prick of his magic in your eyes had grown to a kernel; still absolutely invisible unless one was inches away like he was in the moment, and the room was dark like it was. You blinked sleepily at him. “What?”

“You're Beautiful.” He looked down, closing his eye for a moment as he switched his sight. When he reopened it, he smiled- your Soul was now visibly tinted ultraviolet in tiny sections, his power over and through you like a shield. “Beautiful Beyond Any Word I Have, In Any Language I Know…And I Can't Feel My Damn Toes, Thanks To You. I Think I Might Die Of Happiness In My Sleep.”

You grinned, your eyes falling closed. “None of that. Now that I know what's on the table…you'll never…get rid of me.”

And thank god for that he thought, following you into darkness

Notes:

I quit smoking in 2021. So when I TELL YOU that I went over to my neighbors and bummed a cig after finishing this...

*whispers it through my fingers* find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 13: Breaking Point

The two of you woke slowly, starting the morning late and full of snuggliness. You could tell Gaster was anxious, dallying; he didn't want to go back to work that evening. Didn't want to face the very likely chance of failure. So you spent the day soothing him, plying him to laughter with gentle kisses and affection. The two of you went to a movie, to lunch just enjoying each other's company, spending your time curled in each other's arms. It was soft and lovely…and made you hope that this could be forever. 

Then evening came, as you both took a late nap. When you woke a few minutes after sunset, you found him in your kitchen watching the sun through the window. He said nothing, only turning to pull you into his arms.

The text came moments later from Poppy.

'They're here.'

-

All the Monsters still at the research center that evening pretended to work- there were dozens of other projects after all -but it was obvious they were waiting for the two human guests to finish with Poppy. Alphys and you were ensconced in her office with Gaster, Eddie, and Sans, when the beautiful, flower-haired and moss-bodied woman knocked on the door. 

Poppy’s voice was nervous. “Sir? I've explained our work as best as I can…and the situation we're dealing with.”

You went with Gaster to greet them, in case they were nervous of his appearance…aside from a cocked brow and a held handshake as he looked him over, Curtis said not a word beyond “How do you do?” Patty smiled, fixing Gaster’s collar in a motherly way as she introduced herself and her husband to the rest of the Monsters lingering and listening. 

Then Patty hung back to talk to Poppy, exclaiming over the sprite’s appearance. Curtis wandered around, looking at everything within the wide room, but especially the grow stations. He stood before each, scratching his chin, occasionally reaching into them to finger the dead and dying plants within as Monster assistants opened the heavy glass doors.

You and Sans waited as Gaster followed the man, silently getting obviously more stressed as time passed- fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes -and Curtis still said nothing.

Finally, the older man turned to Gaster. “I…don't suppose anybody sprayed ‘em with roundup did they? Almost looks like it, like they died from the crown down…it's odd.”

Visibly frustrated and cross, Gaster scoffed dismissively. “Round up? Glycophate, The Human Weed Killer? No. I Assure You No One On My Staff Has Weed Killer That They're Using On The Future Of Our Peoples Survival.” He turned to walk away, feeling hopeless. “Not That It Would Matter, Anyway. The Donor Assured Us That ALL Of Their Seed Stock Is Resistant To It.”

Unseen by him, Curtis frowned, glancing over at his wife, who was trading numbers with Poppy and Alphys. Her eyes got wide, giving him a subtle nod; the silent language of spouses who had been together for decades.

Curtis stalled, turning back and looking close at a few plants, plucking leaves and rubbing them between his fingers…crushing stems in his hold. He didn't look nervous, not exactly, more…worried. Concerned.

“Well, sir-”

“-Just Gaster, Please.”

Curtis put his hands in his pockets, subconsciously mirroring Sans who had come to stand near him, his wife, and Alphys- it drew your eye. Here was more of that incredibly subtle Skeleton magic at work, for you could now see, thanks to Gaster’s power within you, the slight haze that surrounded Sans, spreading to mist over the two humans like the dimmest cloud of steam, barely perceptible. Both of them straightened, a look of resolution coming over Curtis's face. 

Did Sans even know he did it? Or was this an innate ability- to encourage bravery, to enable a person to make the right choice, even when it was intimidating? To let them know without word or deed that he had their back?

The man cleared his throat. “Well then Gaster…I might have an idea of what's causing all your problems.”

Gaster scrubbed his hands down his face. “Enlighten Me, Please. We Could Use A Miracle.”

Patty looked oddly…angry. And that started to concern you. What did this soft-spoken woman know, that she was angry about something?

Curtis turned to face Gaster directly. “This might sound a little strange, but is the seed you're usin’ patented?” 

Sans raised an eyebrow, speaking up from where he leaned on a desk. “i’m…not sure, honestly? how would a seed even be patented?”

Rubbing her hand over her husband's back, Patty made a soft noise under her breath. “So…you think?”

Her husband nodded. “It's gotta be. Of course they'd wanna lock down these folks.”

Gaster tapped his fingers one time each, quickly in a row. “Could Someone Bring Me Into The Loop, Here? What Are We Talking About?” He was smiling very tightly. You watched, but didn't interfere- he was a big boy, he could manage himself. 

Surprisingly, Curtis walked over and put a hand on Gaster’s shoulder- he was a tall man, only having to reach a bit. The look Gaster gave him almost made you snort, so cat-like in its innate offense at being touched. The human was staring at the nearest station.

“Let me guess, resistant to roundup? Guaranteed production in ‘so many days’, lettin’ you calculate exactly when a harvest should be due? Immune to mosaic and black fungus and all the other nasties? ‘Heritage-safe, Future-secured’?”

There was such pity in the man’s voice that some of the wind left your prickly man’s sails, 

“Y-Yes? That Exact Phrase Is On The Packaging, What-”

“You've been duped, son. From what Miss Poppy over there said, it sounds like y'all need natural seed, right? Just normal, every day wheat and soy and all, for your magic to work? Well, you don't got it. At all.”

Gaster blinked. “What Do You Mean?” He didn't move away from Curtis's hand, staring into his face.

“She said it's donations, some private company that wants to support your folks and make an agreement and all. What company is donating the seed to you?”

“Er…” He glanced over at Alphys, who was watching with a horribly worried expression on her face. She held a finger up. “G-give me a minute. You remember w-w-we had issues with that months ago, right? The originating p-place...it was some ancillary non-p-profit, but it hadn't existed long enough f-f-for the incorporation d-documents to be online? I'll ch-check again now.”

The room was completely silent as Alphys trotted out, as if everyone was holding their breath. You stared at Sans, who stared back at you with the strangest expression on his face, and Gaster and Curtis were both staring at the door Alphys had gone out as Patty quietly took the desk chair Eddie offered her. Minutes passed like that, a building tension in the room that felt like a kettle screaming louder and louder with no one around to take it off the heat. 

When the door finally opened again, it was loud enough that everybody flinched. Alphys's nails clicked over-loud on the linoleum as she scanned over a stack of printed documents. As happened so often, her anxious stutter faded as she was engrossed in something, handing individual pages to Poppy.

“It's the s-strangest thing. I don't mean to look a gift-horse in the mouth, they're donating hundreds of thousands of dollars in supplies, but…Gaster, it doesn't make any sense. The sponsoring agencies are a circle. Profitless shell companies, feeding into a loop that leads back to each other, none of them with a BBB rating or a business credit or anything that we can pull. You know I triple check everything."

Curtis was already nodding as she flipped a page over, pointing at something near the bottom. “One did have a unique ph-phone number though, a secondary contact for tax benefits only. It leads to a branch office for something c-called-”

“KeystoneTech.”

All the Monsters in the room turned to stare at Curtis as he said the words along with Alphys. He cleared his throat.

“Y'all weren't around for it, yet. It was what, ten years ago?” He glanced over at his wife, who nodded. You scratched your arm, frowning- where had you heard that term before?

Curtis patted Gaster's shoulder, letting go. “They're bio-ag. GMO seed. Artificial as can be. They sell under a hundred different front companies, were slammed with a thousand lawsuits back a decade or so ago, not that it mattered. They're still around, got enough farmers locked into contracts that they'll survive for the rest of time off that money alone.”

Both Skeletons blinked at each other, then at Curtis. Sans was the first to speak. “so what does that mean, exactly?”

“It means that there's your problem. It's KeystoneTech seed. Genetically modified, artificially in a lab, using some crazy technology and puttin’ god knows what genes into the plants. The seeds the plants produce are sterile on purpose, you can't set aside part of your harvest for replanting. It won't work. The plants die at a specific time even if they ain't done growin', and they even change the soil itself to make it so non-Keystone seed can't grow...and all sorts of other nasty shit besides. They're a bunch of greedy hogs.” He shook his head in disgust. “They run small farms out of business, then buy up the land rights and form megacorps out of them, leasing people’s livelihoods back to them until they've got nothing left.

Gaster didn't look like he was breathing.

Patty spoke up. “It's a specially-named seed, right? RoundUp Ready? You all missed the scandal, only gettin' out a few years ago- nothing happened to the company that designed it, nothing that mattered. Nothing that made them stop.”

Alphys wavered, looking between Eddie and Gaster. “We...we-we thought, it was suggested, p-practically implied, that it was an all-natural company, environmentally concerned and all…a huge p-presentation, they f-flew us out f-for it. Probably spent tens of thousands of dollars…presenting themselves to us.”

The old man snorted. “Natural my ass. They wanted you to have to buy it all from them, that's the goal right? Make a sterile plant and copyright it, Then force every farmer to buy it until there's no other seed left. You'd be the most captive market in the damn industry, a whole race of people, buyin’ half-dead seed forever. They probably didn't know you were gonna work magic on it, or didn't believe it would make a difference. You'd have never known ‘til it was too late and you were locked into purchasing contracts with them.”

…

Sans gasped as Gaster sat down hard in the middle of the floor, his bones clattering, and started to laugh, rough and ugly.

You felt frozen, stuck in place by the futility of it all. Eddie barked something at all the other Monsters in the room in a language you'd never heard before- every single one left as fast as they could, leaving you, Sans, Eddie, Alphys, and a very sad-faced Curtis and Patty. 

Alphys was at her old friend's side, tugging up on his shoulder, whispering something; he shook her off as he covered his mouth with his hands, the laughter cracking off into a hoarse whisper that spiked into him yelling in a way you'd never heard before- the man must have been a terror before his throat was damaged if he was this loud now. “All Of This….ALL OF THIS. Ten. Months. Of. Work. For NOTHING.  FUCKING NOTHING!”

The lights in the room flickered. Out of the corner of your horrified eye, you saw a magical device start to throw what was obviously warnings, a series of red LEDs turning on around a needle gauge that spiked hard enough that you could hear the tiny noise of the metal indicator hitting the far side of the housing. 

Surprisingly, Curtis and Patty didn't even so much as flinch. She watched Gaster with nothing but pity in her eyes while he turned to Alphys as the Lizard stumbled back, pulling something from his pocket as Sans went to his brother.

“Here. Try this.” He put a thing in her hand; you couldn't tell what, too busy trying to shake off the cold adrenaline and get to Gaster. Sans glanced up at you and mouthed, “get over here”.  

Suddenly, you could move, as calm hearted as if you'd taken a tranquilizer. Sans had pulled his brother to his feet somehow, though Gaster was sagging like he was about to faint, panting raggedly, his eyes wide and wild. 

Alpyhs and Curtis were fiddling with one of the grow stations as you put your hand on your man's arm. “Honey?”

When he whipped his head around to face you, it literally knocked you back a step; just his gaze alone had so much weight to it. With your dim magical sight, you could see his power like sharp glass in the air around him, fracturing and shattering like reality itself was splitting from his turmoil. 

There was sorrow in his voice as he stared at you. “All Of It For Nothing. Everything That Happened…All The Work We Did, Destined To Fail…All For Human Greed And Cruelty.” 

How could you take it personally? He was right. You didn't know what to do; he hadn't taken your hand off his arm, but he hadn't moved into it, looking between you and Sans with terrible anguish in his eyes.

Alphys' voice seemed a world away. “Gaster.”

Sans shoved him bodily down into a chair; your man was almost limp with grief. “here, drink some water or something, we'll figure it out…bro you gotta reign it in, the building is shaking.”

He was right, it was. A tremble in the floor, originating from the man before you.

Throwing caution to the wind, you put your arms around him. For an awful moment, he didn't move. Then he buried his face in your hair, his arms coming up to hold you so tight that it hurt.

After a few moments Alphys called again. “Gaster!”

He was whispering something in that language he'd spoken the night before, yet it was so much less beautiful in this moment; broken and cracked, a breath away from weeping. “It's okay, it will be okay” you whispered, trying to calm him as his breathing came faster and faster, the floor beneath your feet vibrating like a night club's. “Now you know, you can work around it- it was never your fault-”

“Wing Dings! Right now! You look at me right now!”

You, Sans and Gaster all jerked, for you'd never, ever heard Alphys so much as raise her voice, and had never heard Gaster called by that name. She was standing next to a grow station with Curtis and Patty, pointing at it. 

At first you saw nothing different, except that she'd turned the lights on within. But then…

…a handful of tiny green sprouts, racing to grow. Days, weeks of time, compressed into seconds. Seedling leaves falling off for adult ones as they grew; Curtis murmured something to Alphys, who nodded and messed with the electronics on the side of the glass, then motioned toward him. He reached in, thinning most of the sprouts out; Gaster choked, but Patty smiled at him gently. “Hold on now. They can't be all crowded like that. Plenty more where this comes from.”

Satisfied, he pulled his hand back out, closing the terrarium-like door, and Alphys flipped a switch. You could see it now, a fuzz in the air of the glass, a heat mirage that slowly grew thicker…time magic. An incomprehensible miracle, right before you. 

The three sprouts continued to grow easily, up and out, Alphys fiddling with them a few more times until three healthy bush cherry-tomatoes were within, yellow and red miniature fruits hanging low. She did something a final time, and the acceleration slowed…stopping, as you saw that mirage-like magic fade.

Gaster wasn't breathing under your arms.

Curtis nodded, satisfied. “Cherry Falls, my favorite cherry tomato. Old and proven.”

---

If he could have, Gaster would have thrown up. The curse of being a Skeleton; nausea had nowhere to go but to churn ceaselessly within.

He stumbled to his feet, leaning on you for a moment as his hearing roared and his vision dimmed…fighting with every last scrap of his six centuries of experience to control his magic. Magic that wanted to pour screaming from him, defend him from the thing that had struck him so deeply. Slowly, agonizingly, he brought it under his hand once more, reining it in piece by piece. Being near you helped; he leaned on you magically as well, an anchor point and silent assist. It was fascinating how things were just…easier, near you. Magically more likely to succeed. His ability to see and manipulate potentials, mixed with your ability to encourage the best possible outcome…it was extraordinary. World-changing. 

God, how many more times could he survive this? How many more eleventh-hour cheats could he weather? This, this insanity, dropped in his lap…he had to quit. Had to get out, while he had a beautiful woman to love and a fraction of joy in life left. 

But first…the work.

He lurched over to the grow station, opening the door, flipping on the switch and shoving his hand inside; you gasped, but he ignored you. In the background Sans hurriedly explained that Skeletons, by nature, were uniquely immune to time magic; that it wouldn't hurt him. Fiddling with the controls, he dropped the temperature and light, simulating a seasonal change, then spring again, separating out most of the plant matter to fall thoughtlessly and messily in a pile on the floor beside his feet as he put a handful of wet seeds through a false winter, and then a new spring. 

After his third time of the same cycle, pollinating them each time by hand…he turned to Alphys, who was doing fast calculations in her mind.

“Eight times exponential acceleration. S-stable. Three cycles. This is all we were missing. Sixty days in sixty seconds.” She laughed bitterly. “Gaster, it worked perfectly. There was never anything wrong with your protocols.”

He stumbled back, his knees suddenly weak, his hands and labcoat covered in dirt, falling backwards to sit on a table and staring at nothing.

Your voice was soft steel across the room. “Enough. Alphys? You can handle this?”

The other woman nodded. “I'll get Eddie. We need to find a seed supplier, maybe these two can-”

Gaster tuned the rest out. He felt…cold. Sick and betrayed. His Soul hurt like a blade had pierced it. Whatever was happening around him, so be it. 

His people had broken their backs, sometimes working sixteen hour, eighteen hour days for nine months… for a lie. 

His brother, so weak in constitution that a single blow would Dust him, had worked until his eyes didn't have the strength to light…for a lie.

He'd almost killed himself.  

All.

For.

A.

Lie. 

---

Sans stepped behind you. “i'm gonna do something that'll probably freak you out a little. just…try to relax. i want you to see something, so you understand what i'm about to ask you.”

You nodded. He put his hands flat on your upper back, then pressed in and out, his fingers spread wide. It honestly felt nice, like a massage. Then something in your chest pulsed, to the right of your heart and somehow infinitely deeper…and suddenly his touch felt invasive, wrong and dangerous, you needed to get away-

“calm down. you humans, so jumpy about your souls when monsters are involved. take a deep breath.”

The instinctual fear faded, leaving a feeling of bizarre…closeness. The intimacy of best friends, pressed side by side, but with a man you didn't know terribly well. 

And then…you did. You knew him terribly well, painfully well. It was horrible for its suddenness. 

A woman named Cassini, known but not remembered. 

A life lived for months at a time, countless times. 

A sadness so deep it was nearly a cancer in his bones, a ferocious intelligence hidden beneath placid laziness-

He swore. “fuck, what? you shouldn't be able to- ew, god no wonder you all don't like us fishing around in your souls. how are you even…”

You shivered. Something about your vision was changing, like a camera with the contrast setting being ratcheted up. “I don't know. Gaster and I, we've…discovered some things. Magically? I don't…I don't know right now. Sans what are you doing? Are you okay? Who's Cassini?”

“attuning you to see into souls, like I can. now look at gaster's, and stop worrying about me, we can…talk later, i guess, i….wow your brother fucking sucks . he tried to hit you because you wouldn't give him drug money?! let him try that in front of me and see what happens.”

You blinked…realizing the connection went both ways; he was seeing you as deeply and horribly personally as you were seeing him, something about his magic wrapped around your newly-empowered Soul serving as a two-way connection instead of a one-way catalyst.

Wrenching your thoughts away from him, you focused first on Alphys, because she was moving, leading Curtis and Patty into a side room where Eddie waited. But you didn't… see her exactly, for there was no Alphys there to see, in the darkness of your sight. Instead, a tiny flicker of light there, fluttering and pulsing, drew your eye. 

“alright sure, alph it is. practice round. so i can't see magic…when i make an effort, i see this instead. look at her. you can see her whole personality in there, everything about her. follow it down, look for it all. everything at once.”

And he was right, you could. It was…indescribable. A kaleidoscope of personhood that you couldn't put into words if you tried. A migraine began to tic behind your eye as you tried to comprehend the enormity of seeing an entire person in a single breath, starbursts forming in your vision. It felt like missing a step as you ran down a flight of stairs, only you couldn't stop falling. 

“now look at gaster.”

You hesitated, fearful. If Alphys hurt…

“look at him. so you can understand why what i'm about to say is so important. come on, are you a boss monster’s partner or not? don't be a little bitch.”

Anger flared even as you knew he didn't mean it…and you knew he didn't mean it because his very being was wrapped around your Soul itself, giving you insight into his. And you knew that he knew that you knew, and that he was saying it anyway to try to get that sharp spike of instinctual insult to get you pissed off enough to obey. A connection of his-magic-to-your-Soul-to-his-Soul-to-your-‘magic’ that made you feel dizzy and motion sick to try to examine, it was too much too much too much too much-

You reached up and covered his hand on your shoulder with your own, squeezing tightly as you realized you cared deeply about the horribly, horribly sad man behind you- how could you not? You knew him now. 

“I'm so sorry you had to live through what you did, “ you whispered, turning slowly to behold his brother as your world tilted on its axis, feeling like a computer being slammed with a zip bomb. “I'm sorry you had to remember each time it all rewound.”

He hissed a breath out, his hand turning palm up to hold yours in earnest. “i…i…christ, fuck, we'll talk later, i…we'll talk.”

On a whim, you turned, bent, and hugged him hard; his arms came up around you in the same moment. It was a friendship formed in a single moment, solidifying as if you'd known each other for years. 

You nodded. “We'll talk.”

And then you turned to Gaster. 

…

It was him. All of him. Everything at once. 

And above it all, his Soul...cracked. No, not cracked.

Splintered. 

Fractured. 

Damaged. 

Not in a physical way, no; nothing the average Monster would see. His physical Soul still fluttered away in his chest, rabbit-fast from stress and betrayal and anguish. But his…his self, his core, the Soul Within The Soul…damaged like he'd taken a wound. 

“this is how monsters die. this is how we turn to dust. not from physical injuries…from betrayals. sadness. accidentally push a monster down a flight of stairs and they'll probably brush it off. pinch them once on the arm because you hate them and it'll spread like an infection.”

Covering your mouth with your hand, you shook your head in horror, aware Gaster was staring at you and Sans wearily.

“What do I do?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Oh my god…how can we fix this?”

“time. love. care. this is the hardest betrayal he's been hit by in a long time, and he needs you now.” Sans released your hand. “take him home and take care of him, before this catches up with him and I lose my brother for real. make him leave. make him better. please. we aren't human…he needs you. he needs his trusted partner, his ‘mate’ if you want to get old-fashioned about it.”

You nodded, and Sans’ incredible sight faded from your vision as he recalled his magic off your Soul.

“I can't drive his car, I can't drive manual. Take me to his house first…then bring him home to me.”

He hesitated. “he won't listen to me. he'll want to stay, to start running new trials-”

You'd used up your awe and patience for the night, too much silent wonder and revelation happening around and within you. Your voice came out calm and matter of fact.

“Then make him.”

You knew Gaster could hear you both, sitting halfway across the room as he was. His eyes narrowed as you said those words, the stubborn mulishness that had kept him living his entire life when all else had failed rearing up against being told what to do. And in response to that, you shook your head. A single, firm rebuttal. 

He opened his mouth, taking a breath- you cut him off, speaking quietly and knowing he could hear you anyway. “In this infinite universe, there is at least one world where Sans gets the upper-hand and wrenches you home before you can get away. And I promise I will find it, and make it this one. Your choice.”

His brother whistled lowly behind you as Gaster blinked, his jaw working. Finally, he stood, walking over. When he was a few feet  away, he stopped, muttering, “You Don't Know How To Control Your Soul. There's No Way You Could Select For That Yet.”

You shook your head. “I don't have to control it. All I have to do is stand with him-” you pointed back at Sans “-and lend him that belief.” Then you reached for him. “Or we go home together, leaving your people to do what you've trained them to. Please. I love you so much. Let Alphys and Eddie do what they're here to do.”

It was the first time either of you had made such a declaration so publicly, and it rocked him to his core. Still, Gaster wavered, and you grit your teeth, preparing for an argument…

It didn't come. The fight left him as visibly as a marionette with their strings cut, leaving him sagging with exhaustion and sadness.

You turned to Sans, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Who takes care of you?” you whispered, worried for this man you knew now like a second brother. “Who do you go to after this? Don't tell me you're staying too.”

He shook his head. "i’ve had my fill of inflicting misery on myself. as soon as i get you both home and his car dropped off- pap will help me -i'm going over to my girlfriend's house. the department heads can handle things from here.”

You nodded. “Text me.”

“i will.”

He spirited you home first, and then reappeared a minute later with Gaster.

Then he was gone. Leaving you alone with your love, who was more of a ghost than a man in that moment.

It was frightening how pliable he was. Listless, doing whatever you told him to. His hands were covered in ink stains from writing and dirt from the grow station, and he began shivering in the few minutes that it took you to heat up a kettle of water and pour you both a mug of tea. Unsure what else to do in the moment, you directed him to the bathroom where he sat on the commode lid and stared at his hands while you ran a hot bath in his huge tub, leaving all the lights off except a single, dim overhead ceiling light. You asked him if he preferred a specific bath salt of the ones he had sitting around and in his closet, but he shook his head. So you picked the one that you felt smelled the nicest, and then walked up to stand between his knees.

“Sweetheart? Can I help you with your shirt?”

He sat the mug down, his gaze unfocused and somewhere on your chest as you unbuttoned his black shirt, sliding it back off his shoulders. You pulled off his shoes and socks when it was clear he wasn't in his own head at the moment, then stood him up with a gentle hand under his arm. 

“I’m gonna unbutton your pants now alright?”

He nodded. It was the work of moments to get him all the way undressed and in the tub as it gently steamed. You turned to walk away, giving him some privacy and thinking of making a late dinner for both of you, but his hand on your leg stopped you.

“Stay. Please Stay.”

He tugged insistently. You barely were able to get undressed and put your hair up before he pulled you into the water with him. The bathtub was large enough that you could have sat beside him, a truly luxurious thing; he pulled you down on top of his body like a blanket instead, the water sloshing around you.

So you stayed there curled over him, stroking your hands over his face, his head, his shoulders and chest; anywhere you could reach. 

Then, nearly silently, he began to weep in your arms.

It was excruciating, for he didn't make a sound. Not a single noise. Just the silent hitching of his chest, the wetness of tears on the side of your neck where he hid, and shaking, catching breaths. 

You said nothing, turning away to hide your heartbreak; he needed this, uninterrupted. All you did was reach over to turn on the jets at one point so the water would stay hot, and reached out to snag a towel so you could tuck it behind his head, rather than have him rest it back on hard porcelain. Then you went back to holding him, praying silently. 

Let him come back from this. Let him recover. Help me help him…I can't imagine his frustration and anger in this moment. Let him come back.

He quieted after far too short a time, you thought, dipping his hands in the water and scrubbing them roughly over his face. He wouldn't meet your eye, embarrassed…so you leaned forward, caught his chin, and kissed him gently. Not meaning to excite or enflame, just to assure him that he hadn't lost any of your admiration…he hardened beneath you anyway. It made your breath catch, the eroticism of feeling his thick length against the crease of your thigh as it jumped to touch you; you tried to angle your hips away. “Sorry, sorry honey..”

There was something painfully vulnerable in his face, a boyish flush high on his cheekbones even as the lights of his eyes were tinted a pale violet; a Skeleton's redness from crying.

“Please…” he whispered, staring up at you as you knelt over him, his hands coming up to rest on your hips as if they were made to be there. “Please.”

Oh. Oh.

You felt almost guilty, being so deeply turned on when he was obviously distraught. But his body was straining toward you, his cock so rock hard that the head nearly curved to touch his own spine.

You clenched hard, your entire awareness narrowing down to the space between your thighs. Biting your lip, you reached for his bath loofah and body wash, working quickly. Gaster was nearly trembling with want beneath you, coiled and tight like a restrained beast, moving as you asked him to but watching you like a hawk as you gently washed him, getting soil from between the delicate bones of his hands . It was almost irresistible, even though he did nothing overtly sexual; just the feeling of his cock between your legs and the weight of his gaze was enough to make you nervous and excited.

The bathtub was not the place to do this; you couldn't afford the loss of any lubrication. You half wished you were at your house, where a bottle of slip was tucked into a side drawer, for you didn't exactly have the same amount of preparation to help your body ease the way as you had the night before. 

So be it. You finished your task and stood up from him, trying not to stumble at his pained noise at the loss of you; he was affecting you on a magical level, you could faintly see it now in the air around him and yourself. A reaching, jagged violet expression of his power, calling for you and licking along your skin like heatless flames.

Sans had said that you could help him, that he needed you…that it was a Monster thing. Was this part of that? His power, searching along your body? 

You drew him up from the water, wrapping him in a large towel off a nearby shelf as he tried to pull you back in, his magic fluttering like moths on your arms, your thighs…

It was an act of tremendous willpower to take the thirty seconds needed to dry yourself off too, Gaster hovering all the while with his hands half-raised, a strange expression of pained want and sadness on his face.

“Go lay down. Go lay down in the middle of the bed and wait for me.”

He wavered…and then did as you asked, letting the towel fall mindlessly to the floor, his feet clicking on the hardwood as he walked naked into the other room.

Spit would have to suffice, combined with the wetness your body was already starting to make; hopefully you were still somewhat loosened from the weekend's fun. It wasn't exactly the thirty minutes of preparation you'd had then, but so be it. You did your best, then wrapped yourself in a towel, following him…and pausing in the doorway.

God he was handsome. Painfully, wrenchingly attractive, laying back with his arm over his eyes, stroking himself slowly.

“I could watch this for hours,” you murmured, dropping the towel as he lowered his arm and looked at you. His eye dragged over your bare form, lingering as you walked slowly toward him, his other hand not stopping its movements. You had to make a conscious effort not to twitch and flinch like a crazy person as his magic flickered all around you, even around your face and eyes. 

As you crawled into bed over him, he reached up to pull you down hard, grinding his hard cock between your legs, his eye falling half-shut at the wetness there.

When a particularly bright flicker of magic made you blink despite yourself, you smiled, bending down to kiss him softly. “Whatever you're doing my love, I don't mind a bit, but please try to keep it away from my eyes.” 

The look he gave you- shock, fading to surprise, fading to slight bemusement…you liked it much more than the gutted, blank expression he'd worn since you both got home.

“A…A Moment, Then.”

Whatever he did internally, the faint flickers of magic faded from your chin up. Then you couldn't resist, because he looked so handsome when he focused. You kissed him again, and again, swallowing his groan as you slid your tongue along his. Desperately turned on, you began working down his neck, moaning softly as he humped up into you, sliding his cock back and forth through your folds.

His voice was soft. “You See Like Papyrus Does; You See Magic As It's Worked.”

You shrugged, much more interested at that moment in how you could suck faint purple bruises into the bones of his neck. “We aren't so far apart, humans and Skeletons. It makes sense there'd be overlap.” Oh you wanted him; he felt so good sliding back and forth through your wetness, the tip catching in you each time for just a moment before popping back out. “I…do you want this? I don't want to make you d-”

“Of Course I Fucking Want This.” His voice was raw after yelling earlier, deep and harsh and delicious. “You, The One Bright Thing Among So Much Hatefulness.”

You bit your lip, sliding forward until you caught his twitching length just at your entrance. “Be patient with me. It's, you're…a lot.”

He shook his head, his lips parting. “I…Do What You Need To, Do Whatever You…God, Whatever You Want.”

Even with the weight of your body to help you, it took some effort before the head popped in, already overwhelmingly huge. Gaster growled underneath you, his grip dropping and his hands flexing on your thighs. 

“I Half Hope You Never Grow Used To This, Just So I May See That Look Every Time On Your Face.”

God it was good, even as the stretch ached and burned. You shivered, your eyes falling closed as his deep voice rumbled against your knees, sliding down another half inch. “You felt so good last night that it made me cry.”

He shivered, his cock flexing within you. “Yeah?”

Smiling, you wiggled your hips, taking another bit of him as he pried your body open. 

“Do You Know How Fucking Hard It Is Not To Move Right Now? How Badly I Just Want To Shove Myself Up Into You?”

You sighed in pleasure and aching pain, opening your eyes to him. This was a guess, but the way he'd once reacted to your hand under his chin, your gentle admonishments…he was such a controlled man, terminally type ‘A’ and always forced to hold endless responsibility on his back, not often thanked or appreciated…

Grinding his cock in a circle, the small amount that was in you, you dropped your voice to a murmur. “Oh but you're such a good, sweet thing…so perfect. Everything I could ever dream of wanting. You're already being so good…can you be good for me just a little bit longer?” Leaning down, you stroked your hands down his chest, then curled your fingers under his ribs. “Can you be good and cum for me?”

God if you could have taken a picture. He stuttered at the compliments, his eyes widening as his cock swelled within you…

And then his expression collapsed, his head falling back on the pillows with a broken groan as his hips flexed up just the tiniest bit-  you felt that first, smaller orgasm of his inside you, his hot load blooming and making you shiver.

Slowly, savoring the sensation of his magic and smiling despite yourself from pure joy at how absolutely incredible it felt, you slid down his length until he bottomed out inside you, making you groan long and low as he swore through his teeth. On top like this he was as deep as he literally could be, tucked up beside your cervix.

“Oh That's… Oh.”

You nodded. “Be gentle. For real. But…yes.”

He looked punch drunk and mystified. “I Forgot Human Women Have A…A Womb.” Delicately he rocked in and out of you, a tiny movement that made your eyes flutter closed. “That's…Lovely, I Didn't Think I Could Feel It Like This, Inside You.”

He was coming back to himself, drawn to your body and voice; magically tethering to you in a way you didn't yet understand. You moved with him, a slow series of rocking thrusts down that sped over time as the pleasure of his cock flooded through you. His reaction to being called ‘good’...that was something to play with later- you'd suspected he would like that. But for now, though…he needed something simple and sweet.

“When you take me from behind, you'd better be mindful of the same my love…or else you'll knock the breath out of me, and not in a good way.”

His lopsided smile was so sweet that it made you want to squeeze him. “Noted.”

And then you both fell quiet, the pleasure rising. He was so terribly sensitive after that first little orgasm, jerking and trembling as you raised up on your knees so just the head was still inside you, then fell back down to bury him as deeply as he could go. 

---

Whatever he'd done to deserve you, Gaster would offer prayers at the Star Altar for the rest of his life in thanks that he had. 

He shouldn't have been so fucking thrilled by the feeling of the mouth of your womb pressed up against his cock, the thought of breeding you, but god. Maybe it was some human instinct left over in his bones…or maybe just the fantasy of his cum taking root in you like a seedling, a place inside you specially made for it; a basin for him to pour forth everything he had. Pleasure, coming from something as dark and miserable as him.

You brought something sweet and rich out in him, dirty fantasies dredging up from under years of repression. The smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the expression on your face, fuck. How gently you handled him, when all the rest of creation seemed determined to swing him as a battering ram against its woes. How kind you were, to care for him through this miserable betrayal without thinking less of his ‘masculinity’, as other women might. 

Of course this was only the beginning; he knew his own mind. But he also knew that he had you to weigh the scales against the hopelessness…you, who would stand in his face, his own family beside you, and threaten him with his own power no less. If the situation hadn't been so wracking, he would have been wildly turned on. 

You were such a good match to him.

And this, god above, the way this felt. Crashing, tumbling waves of pleasure…he wanted more. Faster, despite how delicious you were rolling and bucking atop him. He slid his hands up your hips to your waist and pulled you down, hugging you to his chest as if he just meant to nuzzle you…and pulled his knees up, fucking rough and hard and fast up into your deliciously clenching pussy. The angle was a bit less severe, enough so that he didn't have to worry about bruising that preciously tender place within you, but still deep enough that you gasped his name, your nails in his ribs. 

“Fuck! God yes, Gaster-”

You went limp atop him; perfect. It let him do what he pleased, holding you down and fucking you as fast as he could, as deep as he could, god GOD you felt so good. It could have been seconds, it could have been minutes- he didn't know.

Then you raised your head, enough to kiss him, and murmured, “Gonna knock me up baby?” against his lips, and it made his toes curl, made his back arch as he moaned your name without even meaning to, straining…

His orgasm hit him early, fast, and hard, you egging him on, whispering such things as he'd never heard before in your evil, delicious little voice

“Oh fuck yes, I love how much you cum, you have a lot for me, right? Saved it up for me, gonna hold me down and fill me up? It's so hot inside me…fuck I swear I could feel it dripping out of me this morning-”

He threw his head back, the first few pulses always the most manic and desperate. His body took a moment to settle into the long, crashing waves of pleasure, made all the more sharp and keen by the stream of filth you moaned against his lips as the first pulse of thick cum worked its way out, making him whine and tremble as it filled you.

Then-

“ Yes, god yes, look down baby-”

You fought his grip to sit up, crying out as it shifted his cock inside you, and he groaned your name long and deep as it pressed the head beside your cervix once more, letting him cum up against it. Panting, you pointed down at your lower belly-

“Look, look at that, god …I love that I can see this. Look how deep you are inside me.”

Fucking hell, you were right. Each crest of orgasm made him pull you down by the hips, as deep as he possibly could be…and each came with another spurt of cum, visible as a soft glow through your body that slowly brightened with every new load. The satisfaction was so rich he could have taken a bite of it…but the separation from you felt unnatural. He needed you pressed against him, held tight in his arms, a Monster instinct he couldn't fight. 

Panting, caught on the next peak and moaning with it, he reached for you “Please, Fuuuck…Please, Come Back, I Need-”

You fell down into his open arms, your hips working in tiny circles as you smiled hotly. “Oh I see…gotta hold me down? Make sure it takes?"

He laughed out a groan, his eye rolling back as you ground the deepest part of your pussy onto him. He was going to die. You were going to kill him, with your affection and mischief and filthy, filthy mouth. “You Are The Nastiest Thing I've Ever… Fuck, God… I've Ever Known. I Love You So Fucking Much.”

You entertained yourself pressing tiny kisses along his jaw, then sucking gently on each protrusion off the bones of his neck, as he worked through his orgasm. When that final, shaking magical offering came, he felt your gentle denial, a ‘not this time’ rather than a ‘no’, just like before…and raised a shaking hand to cover his eyes lest he start crying again, overly emotional and absolutely drained by the day's revelations.

After a few minutes, he relaxed his hold enough for you to sit back up, his cock softening within you. “You Didn't-”

Your smile was warm as you dismounted him. “It's okay.” But he felt you shiver as he left your body, and knew you still wanted.

Trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, he turned on his side and nuzzled into you as you relaxed back, capturing your knee between his thighs and using his hand to push your other wide.

“Honey…”

“Hush. Perhaps I Want To Admire All My Hard Work.”

Sighing with pleasure at the feel of you, he dipped two fingers into your sex, pushing his cum back in as it began to leak out. “Can't Have That Happen, Can We?” 

You said nothing in answer except to moan, tossing your head to the side with a hot smile. Fuck he loved you, the kindest woman he'd ever met, with the dirtiest mouth he'd ever heard. You made him feel young and fun again, made the weight of centuries fall off like it never existed. 

Thrusting his fingers in, he stifled a groan in your shoulder; the fact that your pussy felt different, open and soft, after his cock stretched you…it was almost enough to make him harden again. So sweet, so deliciously salacious, all for him. So lovely to touch and taste; oh, he planned on tasting you very soon. The only thing that stopped him now was his own exhaustion.

When you cried out into the pillow in completion, wrapping your arm up to clutch his head as he pressed kisses to your neck, it made him sure; now that this whole laughable, idiotic struggle with crops was done…there was one last task from the crown. One final job that Toriel had tasked him with, long ago when she had shaken his shoulder, pale and stumbling herself, waking him from four centuries of slumber. One last request, from his oldest friend.

And then he was done. Done with royal service. Done with crisis and pain. 

After a thousand years, it was time to live his own damn life. 

 

Notes:

Poor man.

A reminder that Monsanto is literally 200% more evil in real life than it is in its fictional version here, and has bankrupted so many farmers and communities globally that their evil truly cannot be quantified.

Discuss sexy, sad men with me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 14: ☆ Vignette Permière

Notes:

Arc 2 Begins

That night, Gaster woke at three in the morning, as immediately and entirely awake as he possibly could be.

A glance at his phone was a relief and a burden all at once; Eddie had gone home around one. His report was succinct and tiredly positive- after running to the feed store with Curtis and buying them out of every heritage seed the man told him to pick minutes before closing, the humans had left, with an open invitation to every single Monster there and you to come over to dinner. 

They'd run his protocol for hours. Every heritage seed had succeeded, at temporal accelerations a thousand times faster than they'd been testing for months…it had worked. All of them had worked. Your strange empowerment had guided Gaster to the one kind man who could tell them all what was wrong, could unveil the betrayal and the source of months of frustration and failure. The research lab's cafeteria was overflowing with produce.

He sat his phone back down. In all the victory, the joy…there was something infinitely more fearful, for it meant there was nothing left for him to focus on but it. Something you didn't know, something no one knew save for Sans, Alphys, Poppy, and a handful of others. The project they'd been working on for years, before he’d taken his own life…and Frisk had arrived…and the cycle of repetitions began. 

A quick text to Toriel’s personal phone was marked as read almost immediately-

“You've probably heard- we've solved the growth algorithm. The details don't matter. I need to speak with you about what comes next. Tomorrow morning, please. You know what I'll say, I think.” 

And her fast reply-

“DaVinci's. Nine, I will make us a reservation.”

Sitting his phone down, he crawled back in behind you and hid his face in your hair. 

-

DaVinci's was a Monster-owned café, lovely and high-end, famous for their baked goods and delicacies…and infamous for the privacy spells built in around every single table. It was an open secret that the Royals funded the place, in exchange for a fine setting for important conversations that wasn't locked in a board room or hidden behind castle walls. 

The place was busy, most tables full of guests who didn't bother to activate the privacy wards on the ground surrounding them. Spells that cut sound and befuddled sight.

They exchanged pleasantries; Toriel was beautiful as always, today wearing a long, human-style purple sundress and gold arm bands. 

Then, once their lattes and pastries arrived and the waiter had subtly spinkled a pinch of powdered silver on the ground to activate the spell, he sighed…and began.

“Six Hundred Years Ago, You Woke Me From My Mother's Dust With A Hand On My Shoulder And A Curse On Your Lips. Whether You Meant It To Be Or Not.” He quoted her long ago words, the very first thing he’d heard when he woke, wildly disoriented and cradling two Soul Seeds in his hands- “We Are Trapped. The Barrier Is Unbreakable. For Me…Break It Anyway.”

She nodded, her expression distant and sad with memory for a moment. The Queen was many things, but hateful wasn't one of them. It had been a harsh, sickening way to come gagging and choking back to consciousness…but the horror in her eyes at the time was seared into his mind. Toriel had not said such a thing lightly, covered in the Dust of her mother and father.

He scrubbed a hand down over his face, feeling the weight of what he was about to say. What it meant for his work, those in his employ…for all of Monsterkind.

“We've Spent A Thousand Years Becoming Dependent On The Mountain, Like A Drug We Were Forced To Take All Day, Every Day Of Our Existence. It Will Take Hundreds More, Or Even Longer, To Overcome That Addiction. To Support Our Own Magic Innately, To Travel The World And Live Where We Please. I Guarantee Almost Every Monster Alive Today Doesn't Think Twice About Their Magical Dependence." He mindlessly tore a croissant into pieces as he worked. "They Think It's Normal. Natural. Because They Have Never Known A Time Where It Wasn't That Way. But We Can't Even Begin To Recover Until The Barrier Is Truly Destroyed…And We Both Know It Isn't. Not Completely. Not Enough To Free Us In All The Ways That Matter.”

Toriel said nothing, only watching him with her sharp red eyes, stirring her tea delicately.

“The Arcane Roots Live To This Day. Festering Somewhere In The Mountain’s Deepest Chambers; Her Determination, Binding Us To Its Magic. The Barricade Was Only One Half Of The Spell…Just As I Predicted, Six Hundred Years Ago.”

Curse the red mage and her sickness. Her vengeance, whatever the cause. Her Determination, that even if the jail cell were unlocked, the prison would remain. 

Hers was the influence that had twisted the Mountain's magic so thoroughly, hatred made manifest in the corruption of a holy place. Had it only been the other six mages, then the barrier would have been just that- only a barrier. A wall to be shattered.

But no. The knife had to twist deeper.

He stared at the table for a moment…and found himself admitting something that, three months ago, he would have never, ever spoken aloud, or even put into words in his own mind.

“This is What Killed Me the First Time, Old Friend. The Hopelessness. The Futility. She Bound the Magic Into the Mountain Itself, Somehow…Our Own Maker Fuels Our Shackles." Gaster looked her in her eye as realization spread like acid across her softly-furred features; so she'd truly believed it was an accident? He hated having to tell her otherwise. "In Six Hundred Years, I Never Discovered a Way to Fix That. I Don't Know If It Can Be Done. Fifty Years Of Experiments On Four, Five, Six Souls Was Fruitless…And Determination Was My Last Working Theory.”

To her credit, Toriel’s benediction was instant, her hands raised as if to catch him even now. “Then forget it. Sincerely. Forget the barrier and its hatefulness. You have given us a bandage that will last for centuries…Monsters do not bear children so quickly that we will outgrow this area any time soon, and thanks to your efforts, food will no longer be a concern. Live your life. Forget my long ago words, spoken in horror of a realization.”

He smiled wryly, shaking his head. “Do You Truly Think I Can?”

There were unshed tears in her eyes as she stared over his shoulder a moment, and that touched him. Toriel was a tiger-mother, loving and hard. He had seen her weep but twice before; the funerals of both her children.

He reached out and put a gentle hand on hers. “I Don't Tell You This To Upset You, Or Curry Favors. Only To Preface Why I Asked You To Come In The First Place. To Give You, And All Our People, My Terms.”

She waited.

“I Will Give This My Best, As I Always Have. One Last Hunt For The Impossible Solution, To My Highest Ability. But If I Fail? If It Cannot Be Done?” He squeezed her fingers. “I Walk Away. I Cannot…I Will Not, Fall Again.”

“As is your right. As it should have always been, I…I am so sorry. So, so sorry…if I was part of what drove you to…to…”

“No More Than Anything And Everything Else.”

They sat in silence then, long enough that their drinks cooled completely. Royal and servant, Queen Mother and loyal subject…and before all of that, dearest friends.

His voice was very, very quiet when he spoke again, privacy spells be damned. “Reopen The D Lab, Black-Out Classification. I'll Start Recalling My Old Team...Those Still Alive. And We'll Need Human Volunteers, Now That The Souls Are Freed. Utmost Loyalists, Able To Promise Total Secrecy."

A pause.

"I…It May Kill Them Toriel. I Don't Know. I Really, Truly Don't. The Extractor Was Never Used On A Living Human. Unless We Can Capture Souls From A Local Hospital Or Nursing Home, Or Get Lucky With Car Accidents Or Something Like That."

She picked choice morsels from a scone, her face carefully blank at those words. “...how will you tell her, Gaster? Does she…know? Any of it? You cannot keep this secret from her. Forgive the assumption, but is that not perhaps what may have burdened you before? Though you never admitted such to me, I am not blind either."

They were questions somebody had to ask, but it hurt all the same. 

“I Have Told Her Nothing…And I Don't Know How.”

He stared at the table.

“...She Doesn't Know About The Children.”

 

Notes:

And it begins.

 

"Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets"

-T.S. Eliot

Chapter 15: Unhappy Work

The next month passed in a fever dream of disparate experiences, as the heat of summer finally broke and fall crawled slowly into place.

The pride of dropping in quietly on your first few lessons, and the fun of watching you interact with a class of wide-eyed, eager university students. 

The peace of your embrace, and the sensuality of a woman in his bed every night who yearned for him as openly as you did. 

And the absolutely wretched, memory-evoking and gut-churning work that the D Lab required to get it operating and functional for research once again. 

He couldn't tell you, couldn't let you see, and he hated it.  The shame of the project was immense; even the royal family almost refused to acknowledge its existence. Just as they had six years ago, the crown did little more than turn the other cheek and write a blank check…they knew, or at least had a very good idea, what this work entailed.

It was Gaster who invented the Soul jars, after all. 

His initial theory had never been disproven; that somehow, the red Mage's Determination lived on in the Mountain somewhere, somehow- anchoring her spell parasitically and permanently. Yet despite their magical understanding of Determination as an almost folkloric force, their practical understanding of it as an actual, tangible power was almost nonexistent. It was like trying to study the shape of water, or the sound of silence; the challenge of qualifying and quantifying the touch of a moonbeam and the smell of a storm.

Tentatively, after much pontificating by Toriel, she allowed him to interview Frisk- not, he thought privately, that she could have stopped them. They'd already met many, many times, afterall. 

The sixteen year old was thrilled when he met with them at the surface research laboratory, immediately coming over with their ‘brother’ as soon as they received the invitation. Asriel split off with a nervous nod, wandering over to the aquarium one of the project coordinators maintained in the laboratory lobby. He and Gaster had had a few interactions, in that strange,  in-between place he'd floated in after his fall, though the prince had been decidedly more… botanical then.

Frisk on the other hand grinned in delight when they saw him, signing so fast that, inwardly, Gaster nearly sighed with relief. He'd always preferred to speak with sign, even before the injury to his neck; so few people in his life, even you and Sans, could keep up with him when he truly signed as quickly as he wished to. Only Papyrus really…and now Frisk. 

And though the conversation was a delight just for that reason, it ultimately was fruitless as far as Determination was concerned; the young red mage struggled to even vocalize their own powers, so esoteric and innate were they. Add the difficulty that they were the only currently-known human mage, with no one to compare against …he left a few hours later equally delighted by the brightness of the young human, and frustrated by the lack of useful information available from them. 

And then, worst of all, was the problem of it.  

The Extractor. 

It was his work on the thing that had driven him furthest of all into darkness, for he'd felt even as he built it with his own two hands that he was building something evil. Something filthy. He and Alphys had finished a single experiment with it, calibrating the zero-sum darkness protocol…and he'd heard it whispering every moment afterward, driving his already fragile state over that last edge. He wasn't sure if he'd truly been experiencing some evil effect from it, or whether he'd been having stress hallucinations during those final horrible hours…but in the present moment, standing beside her as he stared across the void between the access walkway and the enormous device, he was honestly leaning toward the first. 

“How The Fuck Did I Ever Make This…?” he whispered, gripping the heavy safety railing with both hands. 

Alphys shook her head, her lips tight over her teeth. “Th-there was a betting p-pool. If you'd g-go crazy b-b-before it was d-done. B-but you'd l-l-locked yourself in…and none of us c-could get to you t-to st-stop you. Short of br-breaking d-d-d-down the d-door, I guess. T-two weeks. I kn-know Skeletons can go a l-long time without f-f-food…b-but my god.”

“You Should Have. Broken It Down, I Mean.” He turned to look at her, shaking his head. “God Fucking Help Me, Alphys I Don't Even Remember Half Of The Time I Worked On It. It's Like I Was Enchanted.”

The Alphys of today was a very different woman than the Alphys of six or seven years ago. She reached up, putting a hand on his arm. “You were. W-we all were. B-by what we had t-to do…and th-the w-weight of f-failure. B-but it was d-decades longer for you…even b-before this place was b-b-built, you w-were studying the b-barrier. For hundreds of y-years.” She hesitated, then looked up into his eyes. “I'm s-so sorry. No one sh-should have to sl-slave away on s-s-something for s-so long. That's the problem with you B-Boss M-M-Monsters. You expect f-forever f-from each other.”

Of course she knew. Something he did his best to forget about himself. Something he still wasn't ready to face, after a thousand years.

Wickedly smart woman that she was. 

Gaster was speechless for a moment, overwrought; he could only put a hand over hers for a moment, squeezing hard as she did the same. 

“I Don't Want To Spend The Rest Of Eternity Hating Myself For This…Place.” It was the first time he'd ever, ever said something so vulnerable to her, his voice cracking as he did. And to her credit, Alphys’s only reaction was a slight widening of her eyes, before pity came into her face.

She raised her hands; sometimes she got frustrated with her own stutter. “Then don't. Stop it here. I alone could probably back their majesties off, but if you refused? They'd have to accept it. Leave it and walk away, be happy with your new lady. Monsters will survive. Her fucking spell has to fade eventually .”

He shook his head. “It isn't a command…only a promise. One made over half a millenia ago. I have to try Alphys, I have to. One more attempt. I swore I would.” Being in this place made him feel strange and wan, full of memory and oddly eager to share it. Perhaps it was the innately magical influence of the ugly machine before them both, staring blindly forward and waiting for a victim to be presented. “I had such a crush on Toriel, as they say, before the Mountain. But even now as grown adults, I would do almost anything she asked, for I know she asks nothing unnecessarily. The fact that she, like you, told me to forget this entirely a few weeks ago…that only inspires me to have to try. Even just one more time.”

That won him a smile, as the Lizard beside him leaned forward on the railing. “It's easy to forget you're as old as they are. You've always seemed so much more cosmopolitan than them; the modern scientist versus the stuffy old royals.”

That made him laugh softly. They said nothing else for a time, contemplating the machine before them. 

Finally, she turned to him. “I have oodles of Determination saved up. Let's use that, before we go fucking around with this dreadful thing.”

Thank god. “Alright.”

-

Getting home to your place that night, he sighed with dejection that you weren't there- undoubtedly working late at the University, splitting your time between it and your hospital position. He'd wanted to see you before he fell asleep, to help wash the taste of the Extractor from his mouth with your presence and love. 

Your absence, though, was a double-edged sword- he missed you terribly, just these short hours apart every day, yet every moment you weren't home was another moment he could continue pretending that you weren't badly worried for him. Another moment that he didn't have to unsuccessfully hide his lingeringly dark, fey mood and depression over being in the D Lab again. You knew something was wrong, had asked him constantly these past few weeks…had been infinitely careful and gentle with him in your concern…and all he could do, when you'd sat down and directly questioned him, was apologize and tell you that it was classified work for the crown.

Which it all was. But fuck he hated it. After months spent coming to terms with the fact that it did, in fact, help to talk to someone about all this shit, now he literally couldn't. What a sick little joke the universe was playing on him. 

He went to bed, tossing and turning with discomfort. 

-

It was late when he woke again; a bleary glance at his bedside clock said a bit past two in the morning, when Gaster woke to you crawling back into bed. You smelled like soap, the hair around your face a bit damp.

"Sorry love," you whispered as he blinked at you in the dim light coming through the window, "Tried not to wake you. Went out with a few of the staff and got home late as hell, fell asleep with my makeup still on. I just woke up with my eyes itching like crazy.” Your small smile invited him to one of his own. 

He nodded. Even breathing ached, his throat raw and dry; he must have been talking in his sleep again. Another fun, recent habit born of stress; thank god it was, generally, not in english. Coughing, he sighed, and padded out to the kitchen, holding out a finger to your questioning noise. Water helped a bit. As he wandered back into your bedroom, he noticed something intriguing; you'd put on one of his t-shirts before you came to bed, but nothing else. The sheets were only pulled up to your bare knees as you curled up on your side, your knees pulled up as you watched him.

In the moonlight, his eye traced up from your ankle, to your knee, to your thighs...and then to the exposed seam between your legs, pink and interesting. He hadn't really gotten to look at you yet. First his cock had been in the way, that lovely afternoon in his kitchen, and then every time afterward he'd been too busy making love to you.

Stepping closer, he also saw that there was the slightest shimmer of moisture there. Was that an 'always' thing for human women? Or...

He shaped signs with two softly glowing hands beside your face as he lingered to admire your body; it was too dark for you to see his physical ones at any distance.

“Have you slept alright? Any interesting dreams?”

Only meaning it as a way to make conversation, he grinned a little when you sighed and stretched, smiling hotly.

“In fact they were. Rather disjointed…but you were in all of them.”

Ah. Those kinds of dreams. 

He couldn't tear his eyes away from your pussy as you squeezed your thighs together at the thought and curled your legs up again, watching as your movement pressed a bit more wetness out to glisten on your lips. Sleepy and suddenly turned on, wanting to be close to you, he crawled onto the bed and turned you on your back.

Giggling, you used your toes to push his hands away playfully, probably expecting him to try to get between your legs…which he was. But not how you thought, not yet anyway.

Laying down on his belly between your thighs, he rested his cheek on your leg, pushing away the day's anxiety with your touch. Then, overcome with curiosity and the promise of pleasure, he leaned up and pressed a kiss to your sex.

Oh…this was lovely. Warm and soft against his lips, against his tongue…what a simple, sweet feeling. From what he'd read online, this was difficult, a chore to do on human women, even…every day, his opinion of mortal men as a whole fell further. Because they were fools, this was easy . He could literally lay on his belly comfortably, spreading you with one hand, nosing up against you as you sighed for him, your thighs splayed out as you stretched so hard that your legs shook and your toes pointed. You were even shaped to be easily pleasured, your sex pink and plush between your legs, your thighs the perfect pillows for his head. 

Your inner lips reminded him beautifully of the folds of a flower, pink and dusky, surrounded by skin so soft and thin that he half-feared to touch it. He breathed in deeply, sighing happily at the deliciousness of your mortality- the salt-warmth of your sweat from a summer day, the tang of your body's innate taste. Then below it all, the dark, beckoning call of pheromones…oh you wanted him so badly, he could taste how badly, the flavor sparking across the roof of his mouth- they must have been very good dreams indeed. He took another deep breath through his nose and mouth at once, then another, savoring. 

You squeaked in protest. “Oh my god don't do that.”

Humming deep in his chest with delight, he ignored you completely and did it again, half-drunk on the scent-taste of you as he nuzzled into you and made a mess of his face. “But It's So Good.”

When he glanced up again, you were blushing, smiling despite yourself. “Big old kitty cat, all purr-y and snuggly…I'm half-expecting you to make a stinky face like they do, breathing in like that.”

Chuckling, he squeezed the flesh of your thigh for the fun of admiring its plushness. “I Was, I Just Didn't Let You See It. I Have To Pull In Air Over The Roof Of My Mouth To Be Able To Taste It.”

“Oh, wait really?” You sat up a little. “So you can taste smells like they can? That's…kind of cool, and oh god also infinitely more embarrassing, why don't you get out of there-” Tugging gently at his head with one hand, you wouldn't meet his eye, flushing in the darkness.

He smirked, snuggling in and holding you down with his chin, easily resisting your grip. “Nope. My New Favorite Place. Why Does It Bother You, May I Ask?”

There was real trepidation in your voice. “Well…I'm a bit nervous…I've never…no one has ever…”

He smiled as you fumbled for the words, turning your head to half hide your face in the shadows. “Don't Be. There's No Reason.”

You propped yourself up higher on an elbow to look down at him, then away again. “…you know. You hear a lot of things.”

He shrugged. “I Am A Monster. I've Heard Nothing, From A Human Perspective At Least.” Humming in contentment, he rubbed his cheek on your soft inner thigh, scenting you happily. “Relax. Let Me Have My Fun. Don't You Often Do The Same For Me?”

“That's…that's different-”

“How?”

He waited as you struggled to express the nebulous cultural taboo that was bothering you so much. Finally you gave up, an embarrassed smile spreading across your lips as you flapped a hand in exasperation at him. “Oh I don't know, we human women just…worry, I guess. About how we look, how we taste, how long it takes-”

Feeling bold and mischievous and very awake now, he leaned in and licked as deeply as possible the length of your pussy, from the lowest part he could reach to the join of your plush lips at the top, making you gasp. “Tastes Lovely To Me…” Then he leaned back to really admire you, spreading you wide. “Looks Lovely Too, So Pink And Soft. As For Time…”

He didn't know it, but he was grinning like sex itself, cock-sure and confident in a way you hadn't often seen him before. “Let's Find Out, Shall We?”

He'd won you over, the muscles of your legs were relaxing around him even as you demurred one last time. “But you don't have to-”

“Would You For Once Stop Thinking?” There was nothing but affection in his voice; you snorted in reply, nestling back down into the bed and letting him slide one leg a bit wider, bending you at the knee. “Oh, you're one to talk...”

He leaned in, nuzzling at you again, enjoying the feeling of the soft, trimmed fluff tickling along his nose. Then he pressed a kiss to the delicate skin right above your slit, before returning to admiring his prize, using two fingers to spread you gently. Despite your mind's anxiety, your body knew he'd take good care of it; a fresh sparkle of wetness glimmered below your entrance, tiny as it always looked. How flattering.

God, you were so amazingly soft in his mouth. He sucked at you gently, just for the sensation of drawing those delicate inner lips across his tongue for a moment; it was almost intimidating, for he feared he could accidentally hurt you. His skin was so hard compared to you, his bones all sharp angles and straight lines to your soft curves. But the sound he earned just from that single touch, a sweet, surprised gasp…oh yes, he was secretly very glad he was the first to do this for you. You sounded as shocked as could be by the sensation of his mouth on you. Then you slowly began to relax into his touch, a noise of pleasure in your throat. 

Glancing up, he groaned lowly just at the sight; you had your eyes closed, your head turned to the side, and were slowly circling your fingers around one nipple over his thin shirt. God, you were so painfully fucking beautiful. He shifted to prop himself on one arm so he could slide a finger into you as he curled his tongue under your clit, pink and tempting at the peak of your sex. It was tiny and perfect to suck on- repetitive, rhythmic little pulls that made you squeak, giggling suddenly as you hid your face in your elbow. “God that feels so good, wow, I…just, just… yes."

Your praise was as heady as wine; he had to be careful, lest he start spending all his days between your legs earning more. 

He didn't bother varying how he touched you; it was clear that he'd already struck gold, sucking gently and flicking his tongue over you as he fingered you with one, then two long digits. Soon, you started rocking with his mouth, one foot coming up to plant on the mattress so you could push yourself into his tongue, and that was enough to make him groan into you before he could stop himself.

Instantly you froze, pulling yourself up in bed a bit. “A-are you okay? I-”

“For God's Sake, Don't Stop.” He wrapped his hands under your ass and yanked you back down, plunging his tongue into your pussy; your cry was as sweet as honey, reaching down to clutch at his head. 

“ Gaster…”

He groaned again, shifting his hips on the bed for the friction as your body clenched around his tongue deliciously. It was so hot, you were so hot; he returned to your clit, sucking quickly and insistently as you petted your hands over his forehead. When he offered a hand to you to hold, you grasped it instantly, rocking into his lips as your cries got louder.  

Gaster's eyes rolled back the tiniest bit as he realized something then; he was close himself. Rock-hard and throbbing, grinding down on the mattress, about to cum in his pajamas like some silly young man…it made him grin against you. 

“O-o-oh- hnnn, baby…fuck…”

You shoved his shirt up to your neck, squeezing roughly at your own tits as you let go of his hand, and Gaster forced himself to stop humping the mattress; he knew exactly where he wanted to finish. In moments you were arching into his mouth, rubbing yourself up and down along his tongue decadently as you moaned his name, so wet that it dripped down his chin.

Your peak was quiet and hard , shaking you from head to toe as you pulled him in with a foot behind his shoulder and clutched at his skull. A little spark of mischief made him wonder what would happen if he held you down and kept going, even as you started pushing at him, whining from sensitivity…perhaps some other time. As soon as you were boneless and panting, he crawled up beside you until he could shove his pajamas down below his cock, staring at your open, breathless lips and delectable tits, jerking himself quickly.

The moment you opened your eyes, you moaned at the sight. “Oh fuck that's so hot. God, you should let me watch sometime…”

He caught himself one handed on the headboard, his hips already starting to jump. “Yeah? Would You Like That?”

Smiling hotly, you pulled off his shirt entirely and pressed your breasts together, turning slightly on your side and cupping them like an offering. “I'd love it. You look so good right now…”

Though you were gorgeous, flushed from his touch and eager for his pleasure, it was the love he felt from your Soul that pushed him over that edge. He forced himself to keep his eyes open so he could watch the first rope of his cum fall across your chest, your chin, a drop falling under your eye…

“Fuck, Pretty Girl…Open Your Mouth…”

A cat couldn't have looked more satisfied than you; you leaned forward, curling your tongue under the head of his cock so he could watch himself cum into your open mouth, watch it pooling with a soft glow at the back of your throat as he groaned at the sensation and sight. 

Then his favorite part; watching the light disappear down your neck as you swallowed it. He collapsed down to the bed, laughing softly as his cock still twitched with sensitivity against his thigh, half curled against the headboard; you snuggled in with your head against his leg, tucking your nose into the cloth-covered wing of his pelvis and leaving a gentle kiss there.

“I missed you today.”

Oh…that touched him. For all that he heard it nearly every night, it still touched him. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your bare back. “I Missed You Too.”

“And that felt really nice.”

He laughed lowly, squirming down in the bed until he was able to pull you into his arms. “Good. You're Beautiful.” Then he hummed, as you leaned up and, delicately, flicked your tongue under his lower lip. 

“Mmmm, just a little messy.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, huffing out a breath. “Don't Get Me Started A Second Time. This-” he cupped your pussy with one large hand “-Needs A Break. She's Had A Busy Week.”

You grinned, running your nails gently up and down his arm as he kept his hand there. Some time passed as he cuddled you… and he realized he wasn't done at all. The day, and now your soothing presence, had affected him more than he'd realized.

“Well…I…Do You Want…?”

Your glance out of the corner of your eye was hot with promise. “Oh? But what about all this? Would hate to stain the bed sheets or anything, maybe my handsome man should go get me a washcloth…” With a teasing wink, you motioned to your spattered chest. 

Gaster arched a brow for just a moment, considering- did he dare? 

Your smile grew as you waited for him to come to a decision, and that settled it. Perhaps he could be a bit more…filthy with you. He'd never indulged those fantasies with the women in his life before, but…

He had an idea that maybe, just maybe, you'd really fucking like it.

Leaning down, holding eye contact with you, Gaster ran his tongue broadly over your pretty tits and hard nipples, sweeping it through his own cum there. Then he leaned up and pushed it into your mouth in a dirty kiss. 

Judging by your low whine and the way you sucked his tongue, you liked it very, very much. 

When he pulled away from you, you contemplated him for a moment with a surprised smile, considering…then motioned to your breasts.

“Well finish what you started, handsome. I'm waiting.”

Chuckling hotly, he did as you directed, placing his palm on your throat the next time he kissed you so that he could feel you swallow it. 

“Know That You Have Ruined Me For Other Women” he murmured into your mouth, using his other hand to rub what was left into your skin, like an animal laying a claim. “Now Turn Over So I Can Admire That Cute Little Ass.”

You did, shaking it for him so he could admire the jiggle as you lay prone. He massaged your lower back a moment, then down further, spreading you wide and letting his thumbs brush that other, more scandalous entrance.

“Do You…?”

Your warm laugh made him shiver, so full of promise was it. “With you? Absolutely, sometime. Just not tonight, I have to be in the mood for it, and you're enormous.”

Oh well now that was very interesting. A truth for a truth, as he leaned back for a moment to strip off his pants, then straddled you, nestling his cock in tightly between your thighs and against the soaking entrance to your pussy-

“Honestly I Feel The Same Way About It.”

As he slid slowly, carefully into your body, you sighed with delight…and then stiffened slightly with realization, casting a look of surprise and desire over your shoulder. “You… oh?”

He smirked. “Surprised?”

You let your head fall back down to rest comfortably on your crossed arms, your lips falling open to softly moan as he withdrew, then rocked back in just a bit deeper- your body was able to take him almost halfway now without any assistance, and he loved the thought that you were changing a little bit to fit him. “Mmmmmm…no, not terribly surprised. Just full of ideas, now that I know you might be up for it. Fuck this feels good…like this, from behind.”

He fell to his elbows, pressing a kiss to the top of your head; his height difference was particularly interesting like this. He was immense above you, completely eclipsing your body with his own, and the both of you shivered at the knowledge. 

The side of your neck showed a bruise from the night before; you'd bitched at him all morning for it as you'd covered it with makeup, then kissed him with tongue before you left for the day, making him grin at the kitchen table- dirty, tempestuous thing that you were.

Gaster bent to press his lips to that bruise, then his teeth. He thrust into you hard , and hissed as his body pumped its first, hot load of cum into you, “Fuck, Fuck…” A few moments passed as he shivered with sensation and you whimpered with pleasure…and then he slid home, filling you to the brim. “The Things You Make Me Want…God Above. I'd Have Never Admitted That To A Woman Before You.”

You cried out with pleasure as he bottomed out inside you. “Yes! God, Gaster…oh my love, would you let me do that for you, sometime? Are Skeleton men the same as human men…?”

The thought made him groan, low and filthy. “In The Way You're Asking…Yes. To Both.”

You shifted, gripping the sheets as he began to fuck your prone body in earnest. “Oh that's hot. Please yes…harder, come on, fuck me like you mean it…”

He let a bit more of his strength come into his thrusts; you arched beneath him, hissing through gritted teeth. “More. Harder.”

“Careful, Pretty Girl…” he warned, squeezing his own fists as he fought himself. “You Know The Difference Between Us. I'm So Much Stronger Than You.”

“I'd tell you to stop if it really hurt me. Come on baby, I know you've been so stressed lately. Fuck it into me, work it out of that big cock.”

How could he disobey?

Slowly letting his strength creep in, he fucked you harder and harder, until he at last wasn't holding himself back nearly as severely as he always did…and not once did you stop him. Not once did you do anything but cry out in delight, giggling in between moans and begging him for more, more, more. God it was a relief, to be able to give his all into your body without worrying that he was hurting you. A little noise of pleasure was knocked from you with each thrust; when he slapped your ass, an immediate, red handprint appeared from how hard he'd done it. 

“Oh my god, oh my god… please don't stop, Gaster I'm gonna cum so fucking hard from this, I can feel it.”

Gaster nodded, feeling predatory and desperate. “And Do You Want To Take A Break When You Do?” Often you got too sensitive for him to keep going for a minute or two, and he'd slow down then, waiting…

You thought for a moment, then silently shook your head with a wolf's grin that showed all your teeth; no, you didn't want him to stop at all- you wanted him to drive you mad like he had the first time, screaming and fighting from overstimulation and pleasure. He'd learned that you had a dirty streak of your own, for all that you didn't often verbally admit it. One time, one single time, you'd said you sometimes liked being slapped across the ass, or bitten, or even some darker, more succulent things…but that you also felt a bit like a weirdo for liking it all.

Well, call him a weirdo too, he thought with satisfaction.

He smiled at your nod. “Good. I Love You So Much.” Then he leaned down to whisper in your ear, making an educated guess at something you'd like- “Now, I’m Going To Fuck You Until You Cry. Feel Free To Fight Me All You Want To.”

Your tight, thrilled, and gasping moan was all the answer you had to that, and Gaster lost himself in your body, pounding you like his life depended on it. Soon, he felt you tightening, stiffening- when you cried out, thrashing and trying to escape him as you fell into your orgasm, he only pinned you down so he could continue plowing into your fluttering, weeping pussy again and again. That made you insane, twisting and whimpering and calling his name like a prayer. 

He only fucked you harder.

“Take It. Fuck, Take It…Come On, Fight Me Off Beautiful, Make Me Stop.”

Your open-mouthed, panting grin was vicious as you truly fought as hard as you could to unseat him in that moment, using the strength of your legs to buck beneath him like a horse as you knocked his elbow out and threw him off balance. He recovered himself, loving your strength and planting a hand on your shoulder, shoving you back down into the mattress as he used his feet to pin your legs beneath him. The noise that left you at that, the clench of you around him…

Then he reached down, touching a single fingertip to that other, clenching entrance; you were soaking wet at this point, and it was the work of a moment to cover his finger in your slip. 

“Yes Or No?”

You swore, and nodded feverishly. “Fuck yes oh my go-d.”

Your voice cracked as he breached that tight opening, fingering you there as his eyes rolled back. He was close, so close…

His pretend game of dominance ended instantly as you turned your head and ruined him with nothing more than your words, proving how firmly you grasped him body, mind, and Soul. The tears of pleasure in your eyes were the final nail in the coffin.

“Oh please, please cum inside me, I want it so fucking bad.” 

He buried himself as deeply as he could, gritting his teeth and taking a deep breath as the orgasm flooded down his spine and pulled his thoughts with it. All he could think of was you; your body, your Soul, the love and deep satisfaction that echoed off it and into him. Your trust in him, your agonizing worry and bone-deep faith. It was all a lash and a balm at once, driving him deeper and soothing him in equal turns. 

He'd worried, at the beginning of the relationship, that you'd be turned off or annoyed by how long it took him to finish; his body had its singular goal- to pump you so full of his magic that you were utterly claimed and full of potential- and nothing would stop it. Instead, you loved it. Egging him on with gentle pulses of your sex, slowly rocking back into him, easily able to take his weight on your back. He planted his knees on either side of your waist, his elbows on either side of your head, and tried to remember to breathe as the pleasure rose in crashing, building waves again and again.  

He groaned, burying his face in your hair and taking your hands in his, grounding himself. You cooed with sympathy. “That's it, oh god…this feels amazing, so good, I don't even know how to tell you how good it feels…”

Not half as good as you feel to me, irresistible woman that you are.

As his body finally relaxed, and he felt your gentle refusal to his magic's offer, he fell beside you weak as a kitten and laughed out a groan. All was quiet snuggling then, for a time. He was catching his breath, you were trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the two of you were content doing nothing more than curling into each other and resting.

He'd turned on his side, spooning up behind you, when you took a breath. 

“Honey? I…hmmm, I don't know how to say this.”

He frowned. “I Didn't Hurt You, Did I?”

Shivering, you snuggled back into his arms, pulling up the blanket over the both of you. “No. Nothing like that.” You paused for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. “I just…I know I've already said it, that you seem…down. That whatever you're working on seems really heavy…”

He sighed, nodding against your hair. “It Is.”

The worry in your voice was palpable. “I just…I really love you. You know I can sometimes see a little magic- it's looked so dark on you lately, so clinging. Whatever you're working on…please, don't do it at the detriment of yourself.”

He bit back a curse. You didn't often talk about the strange new gifts that partnering him woke inside of you, somewhat embarrassed and nervous to describe them for some reason. He wanted to learn more, had wanted to learn more for weeks, wanted to talk to you and figure out the source of your anxiety about it all…but hadn't found the time. Now here it was, telling his secrets for him.

You turned over in his hold to face him. “I don't like the color of it on you, whatever it is. Sickly dark red and brown, like…like old blood. I'm not fishing for secrets; if you can't tell me, you can't tell me. I just…I can't imagine waking up some morning, and you're…you…”

Reaching up, you touched his neck instead of voicing the rest of the words aloud, and the realization pinched him.

You were worried that you were going to lose him. That the work would take him from you…like it had taken him from the world once before.

Gaster was not a crier- his pride was far too strong and unbending for it. That night after the crop research lab had been the first time truly in years…

But he almost did, just now. 

He took a moment to bite the inside of his cheek hard, hiding his face above your head for a moment until he brought himself in hand. 

“I Won't. I Won't Let It Get That Bad, I Will Not.”

He fought his honor…and lost. Damn it all. He'd bare his Soul to you for a single smile; the crown's secrets didn't have a chance.

“There's Something Wrong Under The Mountain. Something I'm Trying To Fix, That I've Been Working On For Centuries.”

Keeping you tucked under his chin, like he could protect you from the forces he described, he told you all of it. God help him, even the Souls. The children. The barrier and its bizarre, sourceless and lingering hatred. His promise, long ago. 

You stayed quiet through it all, only asking for brief clarification here and there. He switched to sign half-way through, so long was the explanation; you turned in his arms to watch his spectral hands as he laid on his back.

When it was done, you stayed silent for a long minute or two, having sat up by that point, hugging your knees with your chin on them. 

Finally, you turned, your eyes dark and haunted with worry. “I…jesus fucking christ , Gaster.”

He nodded, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah.” 

“No wonder it…you…for god's sake, how much can one man take?”

Gaster shrugged. What choice did he have?

When you looked at him, there was an odd, sad expression on your face. “Papyrus…he told me before about the children, in a general sense. That it split your royal family, that they were the only humans who ever fell to their death, so they were the only Souls available. I never knew you were involved with that too…horrible. It's horrible that your people had no other choice, it's horrible that it had to be that way. Horribly fucking unfair to everyone. To them. To your people…and to you.”

A priest in confessional couldn't have lifted weight off him as neatly as you did with those few words, relieving him of the agonizing, quiet fear that you'd hate him for what he'd done.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Ask Away.”

You hesitated, worrying at your nails with your teeth. “Well…alright. Did you know her? You said the Red Mage was female, right? Did you, personally, know her?”

Huh. That wasn't what he'd expected at all. He frowned. “Not Personally, No. Only As A Subject Of Interest, An Honored Foreigner. She Was From The Other Side Of The World, After All, And Only Came Permanently North Here To Enact Her Campaign. Prior To That, She And Most Great Mages Lived As Recluses Or Leaders In Their Respective Civilizations, Meeting Once Every Few Years At Most With The Royal Family And The Council Of The People Here. ANY Travel Of That Length Was A Hard Journey Then, Even If Assisted By Magic.”

“What was her name?”

Gaster squinted, thinking. “You Are Asking For Information Buried Under Dust Bunnies And Centuries…Hmmmmm…”

It took a moment; Monsters were so used to simply calling her ‘The Red Mage’ or just ‘The Mage’.

“Q'orianka…Q'orianka Illarni. Light Of The Red Sunrise.” He laughed softly at himself. “Dear Lord, It's Been So Long Since I Thought Of Her As A Person.”

You hummed. “What was she like? Do you remember anything at all, did you ever see her?”

Remembering things from before the Sleep was so bloody difficult. He pressed his palms to his eye sockets. 

“...I Saw Her Only A Few Times, And Always From A Distance. My Mother Despised One Of The Tradesmen In Her Clan, Some Old Insult Between The Two Of Them, And Would Never Let Me Go To The Palace When She And Her Entourage Made The Journey.” He sighed. “She Was A Priest-Queen, Robed Head To Toe In Red. She Wore A Veil Of Beads Over Her Eyes, And Gold Rings On Her Bare Feet And Hands. I Assume Another Mage Teleported Them In Jumps To Make The Majority Of The Journey, Since The Power To Do So Would Not Have Been Within Her Abilities. Every Time I Saw Her, She Was Carried On A Litter By Attendants. Never Walking. Never Touching The Ground, As Per Her Station. I Never Saw Her Face. They Burned Incense Everywhere She Went, To Purify The Air For Her. You Could Smell Her Parade Coming.”

When he glanced over, you were watching him with a soft smile. “What?”

“Oh just…you. It's lovely to hear you speak of it. I mean, not of her specifically, she can fuck off. But it's one thing to learn history, dry and empty…and another to hear someone describe what they lived. You're wasted in those damn laboratories, my love. There are thousands, hundreds of thousands, of historians who would fight to the death in a colosseum to get to talk to you. I could listen to you tell stories for hours and never get bored.”

He grinned, flattered. 

“But…ah, hmmm…” you huffed out a breath, trying to figure out how to say what you wanted to. “As a human woman…how different am I from a Mage? Biologically? Do we think differently, are they an entirely different species than humans? Or are we the same? Because the whole thing…it makes me wonder.”

Gaster frowned. “As Far As I Know, It’s A Human Mutation. Nothing Particularly Foreign Or Genetically Esoteric.”

You shook your head. “Then…presumably, regardless of how she was raised, of what power and gifts she had…she, at the base of it all, thought at least a little bit like me. Somewhere at the core, we're a tiny bit the same. And I can't, for my life, imagine a scenario where I would be willing to curse an entire RACE of people in perpetuity. Where I'd be willing to, once that curse was altered and lessened by one of my cohorts, twist it even further to trap, and chain, and bind them …why?” 

He sighed. “You Ask A Question That Monsters Have Asked For Centuries. Why? What Was Our Sin? Our Royalty Was Blindsided By Her Campaign. Our Fiefs And Towns Furthest From The Mountain Were Burned Faster Than We Could Even Receive Word…It Was A Carefully Planned And Highly Organized Killing Plan. Total Genocide, Along With Every Single Human Living With Us. They Weren't Even Spared.” 

Even now, a thousand and some years later, it hurt to talk about. He scooted over a bit, putting his hip against you just for the calmness of your touch.

“As I Told It Before, The Legend Of Her Marriage To The Angel Is The Oldest Explanation I Know, Some Five Hundred Years Old…And Of Course It Isn't Historical. It Was Written After Our Imprisonment, And She, For All That She Was Reportedly Ancient, Was Not So Old As To Be Prehistoric, Alive When The Angel Was. But Legends Usually Hold A Thread Of Truth.”

As you nodded, sliding a hand up and down his femur in comfort, the faint glint of his magic in your eyes made him shiver slightly, very much pleased by the knowledge of why it was there. 

“So…a priest queen, raised to think she's untouchable and undeniable. Gifted with the power to alter and repeat reality itself, over and over again, until it bends to what she wants…and then she loses something. Something important. Maybe something to do with a lover, or children, like the story you know goes...and for some reason she can't fix it. A lifetime of everything going exactly as she wants it to…and then, for the first time, the very first time, it doesn't. ” Your face was bleak. “Yeah. I can see how that would make a nightmare out of a person. It's the perfect storm of entitlement and grief, in the heart of someone who never once had to learn how to handle loss or losing, who maybe was never even told ‘no’ before in their entire life. Of course this is all speculation…but it sure is a human thing to do. An emotional toddler, walking around with the power of a quasi-goddess. ”

Gaster grimaced at your intuitive description; how often had he done the same in his life? Used his control of possibilities and probabilities to prevent failure, or embarrassment? It was something he'd pondered often, but never due to the insight of another person before. You were so canny it was unnerving sometimes, intuitive to the point of disconcert. What had his mother said? Blue-Souled humans had clear vision, able to cut through falsehoods and lies. Lord above was she right.

Still, the difference was in the details- despite his most fervent efforts, life did not have to follow his command. He couldn't force it to repeat and rewind again and again, infinite chances to work his will. He had a single chance, and if it failed, it failed.

You fell back to lay beside him again, throwing a thigh over his legs and pulling in tight to his side. “So…when do you stop? When do you draw the line on the work, and say you're done? Please tell me you actually have a concrete date.”

He raised your hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “Midwinter. Halfway Through December, Three Months. If We've Found No Success In The Determination Studies By Then, I'm Out. I Want To Pivot To Magical Research, Hopefully Starting With What Is Between Us. I…I Hate The Determination Experiments.” The admission felt oddly right and good. “The Laboratory Is Hateful. The Machinery Within Is Strange And Twisted, And I'm The One Who Built The Fucking Thing In The First Place, Though I Really Don't Know How I Did. I Want Away From It. ALL Of It.”

Your body was warm and soft against him, a shield between him and the cold of the work he had to return to. You were quiet for a long time before you spoke again.

“I want you beside me. I want you to live a life that you want to. Monsters all talk about the freedom of the barrier falling, but how much of that freedom have you gotten to enjoy? I want you to. You've given so much to your people, but you need to care for yourself, too. I don't mean to be a nag about it or anything, but…I love you so much.”

Gaster took a moment to let your words sink in.

“I Need You To Nag Me. To Remind Me And Harry Me, Again And Again. If Left To My Own Devices, I Will Undoubtedly End Holed Up In My House And Subsisting Off Of Magic And Nothing Else. A Research Gremlin Obsessing Over Magical Minutiae.”

That made you laugh. You turned into his neck, yawning.

“And I Love You Too. I Might Have To Stay Overnight At The D Lab The Next Few Days, So…Yeah. Think Of Me. I Miss You Terribly, The Nights I Can't Sleep Beside You.”

Smiling softly, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then, quick enough that he chuckled and tried to squirm away, peppered more across his forehead and nose, ending with a loud, wet smack on his lips that made him snort, swiping at you. “Finish whatever you're doing fast so you can come back home, okay?”

“Okay, Okay.”

He dreamed that night of a tree, its roots stretching deep into the earth. Of an eagle with blue eyes, fanning its wings at the crown to blow a healing breeze…and a serpent with red fangs, gnawing the tree from beneath. 

Notes:

NEW ARC NEW ARC NEW ARC!

Book 2 begins! Woo!

Discuss ugly machines and evil whispers on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 16: Old Places

He did end up sleeping at the D Lab for the next two weeks, a dull and lonely experience. But he was needed for transportation and substance induction if nothing else. Determination was a finicky and highly volatile substance at best; secretly, he was amazed Alphys had any success working with it, unable to control for possibilities like he could. When he questioned her, she only smiled wryly, and showed a few places on her hands where the scales were twisted and split, unable to shed and grow back like they should. 

“T-they just stay, now. Never ch-changing. Never g-growing. I'm l-lucky it w-w-wasn’t w-worse.”

Finally, they had the generator fully potentiated with catalyst Determination, ready to spark it whenever they all finally found the bravery to do so. It was an…iffy prospect. He, Alphys and Sans shared the theory that Determination, even as the purified force/substance that it was, could still carry willpower. A sort of quasi-personality, a force of being. 

They all wondered when it would decide that it'd had enough of these meddling, pricking, prodding scientists, and would blow the entire D Lab into a crater. Who could blame them for hesitating? 

When he arrived at your home late one Thursday night well into the month, worn out and wan, he plodded through the dark kitchen…and stopped. You'd sat something out, covered in a dish towel, with a little hand-written sticky note on top. 

“Love you! Eat something and come to bed, mister science man.”

He snatched the note, folding it inward and hiding it away in his wallet like a magic charm as he smiled. The towel was covering an absolutely beautiful loaf of bread- probably sourdough or some equally fancy thing Papyrus had been teaching you how to make lately. He cut himself several slices, buttering them and eating them in the dark, leaning against the island with his chin in his hand. 

How different his life was now, compared to when he'd first launched the Determination project. Then, he'd gone home after a long, depressing day to an empty house, not even bothering to eat before passing out on the couch or in bed for a few hours and wavering in and out of sleep. Now, he had a delicious snack made by a woman who loved him; a woman whose calm, sleeping presence he felt just a few rooms away, your Soul gently pulsing off his awareness in time with your heartbeat. He grazed- a few olives from a container, a piece of cheese, a pear -then sighed, washing his hands as if he could wash away the latent nastiness of his work.

He didn't want to bring it into your bedroom.

That done, he cast an appraising eye over your Glories, smiling as he passed them. They were bouncing at the side of their container, quivering with excitement at their third-favorite person being nearby. Pausing, he held a finger out for them to cluster onto, trickle feeding them a tiny drop or two of magic. Once they relaxed away from him, satisfied with his bribe (he'd win them over from Papyrus yet), he peeked down the hall into the open bedroom door; you were curled under the blankets, just visible in the dim light cast by the soft hall lights plugged into a few outlets. He loved teasing you for your ‘weak human eyes’, needing light to see even in the thinnest darkness. 

Oh, fuck it. He'd meant to perhaps take a shower, but the moment he'd made eye contact with your sleeping form, your Soul had stirred. It called him, the love-bond singing softly against his magic, a chord of desire to be near him and the safety and comfort he offered. 

Lord. When in his life, even before everything went to shit, would anyone have thought of him as comforting? As safe? It was an immensely healing experience, to feel your trust reflected so simply and genuinely- making him think more and more lately that maybe, just maybe, he underestimated certain positive parts of himself. 

Slipping quietly into the room, he closed the door behind him and stripped off his clothes, smiling as you turned over in your sleep. Subconsciously, you knew he was there. When he slid into bed beside you, taking a moment to enjoy the cool, soft sheets, you made a tiny noise in your chest, stirring again. 

“Hush. It's Just Me.” He whispered it, then realized he'd spoken with magic, the violet steaming gently off his lips. Odd. 

Then you moved again, tossing your head…the movement brought you to face him. You were frowning in your sleep, your fist clenched beside your head as you laid half on your back. 

So tired was he from the day, that it took him a moment to realize what was wrong. Realization hit as you made a wounded little sound in your throat and his Soul bodily twitched in his chest- you were having a nightmare. 

Despite his affection and worry for you, it did make him roll his eyes at himself. All you had to do was be slightly upset in your sleep, and it had his magic leaping to defend his lover. God forbid someone actually did something to harm you; if the little freak from the bar tried to lay a hand on you now, he might accidentally fucking kill him. 

He reached over, turning on his side to bundle you into his chest and feeling your sharp intake of breath as you jolted awake. After a moment, you sighed, tucking yourself against his ribs, your legs twined with his. The two of you said nothing, quietly holding each other…and in time, he felt you drift off again. 

As sleep claimed him as well, he wondered what you'd been dreaming about that upset you so.

-

The next morning, something happened that was so unusual, it dragged him out of sleep with the novelty; you were awake and up before he was. Your voice carried softly through the closed bedroom door; a one-sided conversation on the phone. Squinting, he tuned his magic to hear you more clearly-

“....inpatient? I know you can only hold him for three days, but- yes, I know that. Just like I know he'll leave after those three days. But those are actionable threats to himself, I do believe that warrants at least an involuntary hold for assessment!”

It was too far for him to make out the answer on the phone, but he could hear your noise of frustration as whoever it was replied, and the way your voice dropped into sweet, friendly patience- you were angry.

“I understand that. Believe me, I understand that. But the texts I received last night were suicidal in nature, and the officers who found him were the ones to bring him into your facility, not me. Why don't you ask them their official reason for doing so?”

Gaster cringed. Ah. The joys of family.

A few more minutes of argument passed. Then you hung up, swearing at the person under your breath. He knew you'd been having some nebulous issue with your brother the past few days, but you'd only mentioned it in passing a few times during your nightly phone calls while he worked in at the lab. Apparently, it was even more unhappy of a situation than he'd hoped for you. Some minutes later, you softly came back into the bedroom, the diffuse early morning sun highlighting your hair and the warmth of your skin; you blinked a moment when you realized he was awake. 

“Ah, shit.” Your face fell. “Sorry, I tried not to wake you up.”

He shrugged, stretching. “It's Alright. I Woke From Your Absence, Not From Your Conversation.” Then he reached for you, not quite ready to be separated from you yet. “Anything I Can Help With?”

Your weight in his arms was lovely as you crawled into the bed over him. “No…he...” You sighed, snuggling down on his ribs. “Zeke ran out of drug money yesterday, I guess. Police picked him up outside a church, screaming and ranting that he wanted to ‘end everything’. You know. The fun of withdrawals. I'm trying to get them to three-oh-two him at least.”

“Which Is?”

“Involuntary hold for a psych eval and intervention. Three to five days. Which isn't nearly enough for treatment, but he hasn't stayed on his meds longer than a fucking month in his entire life without being in inpatient.”

Gaster stroked your back, trying to soothe you. “May I Ask If You Know Why? I Don't Understand Why He Wouldn't Wish To Feel Better.”

You shrugged, sitting up enough to slide to the side so you could snuggle into his shoulder. “Mania is addictive? Once he gets stable, he thinks he doesn't need them anymore? He's hated being told what to do since the day he was born?” Another deep sigh. “Probably all three at once, and more besides? He won't go to therapy. He won't take his meds. He won't get help…and he has two outstanding warrants for misdemeanor assault in the next county. Motherfucker likes to fight when he's ‘up’.”

“Stars Above. A Busy Boy.” Gaster shook his head. “I'm Sorry. That Sounds…Excruciating To Deal With.”

Your voice was tiny and sad when it finally came. “It is. It's why I'm trying to get him into long-term impatient. But…apparently, his best bet for that is to…god. To get arrested. Can you imagine letting your own baby brother get arrested? To help them arrest him, all so the judge can give him detox and treatment as an option? He's lucky these cops were so busy that they just dropped him off at the hospital. Luckier that they know me there well enough to recognize him.”

“An Impossible Choice, Either Way. Betray What He Would Feel, In The Moment, Is His Trust. Or Enable Him To Continue His Harm- To Others And Himself.”

“...right.”

Gaster made a face over your head. “Sans Told Me Last Week That The Two Of You Had An Odd Interaction, In At The Mountain Lab The Other Week.” 

You nodded.

“He Told Me That He Saw Your Brother Hit You. Repeatedly.”

If anything, you shrank further in his arms. “...not for a long time. It's why I stopped letting him have anything from me. Money, groceries, car help, anything. It happened before we met.”

He grumbled softly in his throat, imagining anyone trying to strike you. “He Had Best Never Try It Before Me. Or Sans, For That Matter. There Are Depths Behind His Laziness…He Doesn't Tolerate Violence Well.”

Your laugh was thin and sad. “Maybe it would be good for Zeke. He doesn't spend much time near Ebbot, probably terrified of Monsters just on sight. Sans might be a good influence. Can we talk about something else?”

Gaster's eyes narrowed, but he dropped it for the time. “What Happened Between You And Sans, May I Ask? He’s Deeply Affected By Whatever It Was. Pardon Me For Saying It, But I Didn't Think The Two Of You Were Such Good Friends Before.”

You scooted back a little, turning to face the ceiling in his arms as you shrugged. “We weren't. I really don't know. I'm affected by it too, but…I don't have an explanation. We haven't talked about it yet. Just…other things. Friend stuff, if that makes sense.”

He hummed a question- it didn't make sense, no- and you shrugged helplessly.

“Honestly…I have no idea. It was like…an echo. Resonance. He layered his power onto me somehow, letting me see through his magic for…other reasons, but…it was like something rang between us. Instead of seeing the people we were looking at…it was like we peeled each other's brains open and peered inside.” You winced, shaking your head. “It was horribly invasive. He wasn't expecting or prepared for it; neither of us had any idea that it was even possible. We haven't brought it up since.”

Gaster frowned. “That's…Interesting. I Had No Idea, Genuinely, That He Had Any Unique Magical Sight At All. He’s Always Denied It.”

“Then he was keeping it private, for whatever reason.” Your eyes looked a bit haunted as you glanced over at him. “Cause it was…so much more than ‘seeing’ Gaster, it…he sees everything, in a way. As if he could somehow download a description of a person, like a character profile from a play, and read it cover to cover in a heartbeat. If they're kind, if they're cruel, what they care about, what they love and hate…it's almost painful. So, so much at once. I never want to experience anything like it again.” Shaking your head, you threw your hands up. “I don't even know how to put it into words without sounding like a gibbering idiot. I know things about him that I ALSO know that he HATES that I know…because he never wanted anyone to."

…what could he say to that? Gaster was a bit hurt his brother had kept such depths from him, but was so much more fascinated by your description. 

“Well…Shit.” 

Then something occurred to him.

“But…Why Was He Doing That? Why Put You Through It In The First Place?”

Sighing, you sat up, hugging your legs as you turned to look at him, your face sad. “Honestly? You.”

When he raised a brow, you smiled wryly. “He was…Gaster, I can't put into words how upset and worried for you he was. Painfully worried, like something was cracking his chest from the inside out.” 

He hummed in his throat as you continued. “We all benefit from the performance we put on for each other, everyone in the world. We cover up how badly hurt or upset we are by things, usually, so that we don't overly upset the folks around us. He doesn't get that advantage…because he sees it anyway. I think…he wanted someone else to understand, for once, what he could. He wanted me to take it as seriously as he could see it was.” When you reached out to stroke a hand down his head, Gaster leaned into it, his brain abuzz. “He loves you so fucking much. Admires you like a moth does the sun. I'm serious.”

He had nothing to say to that but to close his eyes and nod. The sun was warm on his face as you gazed at him, smiling softly; he could feel the weight of your eye as you admired him. “So…how goes everything? With the research? Do you…is there anything I can help with?”

It was something you'd asked almost nightly, hating that you couldn't help him or his people…your people. Gaster had learned yesterday that you'd been slowly withdrawing more and more from the hospital, focusing on education and your therapy services more. Apparently, you were making something of a name for yourself in the University, and your social circle was only growing by the day.

“Actually, Yes There Is. What Does Your Next Week Look Like? I Know The Break For Dziady Starts Monday, I Don't Mean To Take Your Free Time Away, But…”

You poked him gently, tickling his side as he stretched and yawned on the last word. “Depends. What might I be spending it doing?”

Snorting, he squirmed away from you. “Stop That. And, Well…It's Not Very Entertaining, Probably. I Already Have A Dozen People On The Project, And We'd Be Joining Them.” 

As you perked with interest, he smirked. “Asgore Recently, And Entirely By Accident, Uncovered A Veritable Collection Of Documents And Writings In The Script Catacombs, A Whole New Room. I'd Love For You To Join The Search For Anything Related to Determination, The Barrier…Mages…Really, Anything You Think Is Prudent. I Want Out Of That Damn Lab For A Time.”

Your slight frown was slowly spreading into a grin. “A new room by accident?…good god, what, did he break a wall or something?”

When Gaster said nothing, only waited as his smile grew, you burst out laughing. “You're kidding! That's hysterical. Poor giant man, the world just isn't made for him. But, hmmmm…Script Catacombs? That's a strange name. I've never heard of them.”

Wiggling his hand in the air to show the iffyness of what he meant, Gaster sighed. “All-Speak Isn't Perfect, Sadly. But It Is A Rather Apt Translation. It's A Monster Tradition Of The Oldest Degree. To Copy, Preserve, And Entomb Knowledge. When You Have A Species Where Some Members Can Live Almost Immeasurable Years, It Becomes Important To Have Primary-Sourced Information That Remains Unchanged From Its Origin And Conception. Even If It's Functionally Wrong. You Wouldn't Believe The Fables And Horror Stories That All Circle Around A More Modern Leader Making A Hasty Change Or Decision Because They Simply Didn't Remember The Original Purpose Of A Thing, Or Why A Spell Or Law Is Phrased In A Specific Way. Perhaps That Sounds Strange To A Human…”

You were nodding. “No, no, that does make sense. A cultural hard-copy backup. The accuracy isn't necessarily as important as hearing it in their voice, and understanding why they believed whatever it is to be true and important…” A yawn cut off the rest of your words. “I'd love to see it.”

“Tomorrow, Then.”

---

The next afternoon came, and you were immensely gratefully for the distraction. Your brother, apparently, had removed you as an emergency contact and health representative from his records- the social worker, when she called, could only say she was doing her best to convince him to seek treatment voluntarily. It would be days, if ever, until you learned more.

A long trolley ride down into the Mountain later, you followed Gaster and Sans as they lead you and several others through increasingly more winding paths and passageways. There were many of these ‘Script Catacombs’ apparently, always tucked away from main areas; this once was directly under Waterfall, accessible through a large, hidden set of doors. 

It was undeniably fascinating work. Being there in that huge, deep, stone chamber as Gaster's partner and university staff gave you far more grace than the other Monster and human workers rushing back and forth across the damp room; you could take your time and handle the ancient, magically-preserved manuscripts with the awe you felt at their sight. A thousand years old. How often did anyone get to see, much less handle, something that was a thousand years old?

They were beautiful, too; most of them unique in their design and decoration, reflecting the true mastery that went into their creation. The office of archivists had explained, while they installed the translation spell in tiny dots of some powdery substance on both your temples and eyelids, that such items were often the life's works of the greatest scribes, whose power and skill ensured that the precious information within would be safe for time eternal. It was a good thing they were magical creations too; the room was so humid as to be nearly swampish. Trickles of water flowed down the walls, glistening around bioluminescent mosses, and coalesced into a little stream that bisected the large, once-sealed chamber, flowing out a natural fissure in the wall and disappearing back into the Mountain. Gaster's people worked alongside the royal Archivists, each group searching for their own interests and exchanging information whenever something useful was found. 

Now you beheld a few selections, chosen for their beauty rather than any hunch that they'd contain some great secret to aid Gaster’s research. You knew he'd invited you here more as a favor and for the pleasure of your company than expecting any grueling research out of you. Still, you were a fast reader; you might turn up something for him. Flipping the first open; a silk-bound manuscript with a thin wood cover and back, you waited for the slightest dizzying effect of the translation spell to take hold as the pictographic text faded into view.

A few more minutes of reading, and you had a fair idea of what you were looking at. These were crop reports and important trade receipts on a Kingdom's scale, dated to ‘the fourth dynasty’; the time and rulers directly before Toriel and Asgore. Fascinating and doubtless historically invaluable, but not what you were looking for. They joined the growing stack of ‘interesting, but not Determination/Mages’ that was forming to your right. 

The next thing you'd spotted was high on a shelf, tucked back against the wall. It was a large, thick bundle of individual documents, envelopes, scrolls and miniature bound books, held together as one unit with silk ties.

Despite their assurances that you couldn't damage anything here, you unwound the silk carefully, turning over the very top piece of parchment, then the next. 

As you picked through the thick pages, something caught your eye. You had to go back and slowly thumb through them again, peering over each word, and still it was only on your third pass that you caught it again, a dozen sheets in. That was the frustrating trick of the translation spell- it only translated text that you directly focused on. Now the words floated before you, capitalized in your vision to show, in English, that it was a name or title.

For’eji Verdana Cassinni

The moment you wondered to yourself why it seemed familiar, you remembered where you knew the name from. Not your memory…but someone else's. Someone sitting across the room, playing Pokemon on a Gameboy under the desk he was sitting at as Alphys chattered excitedly in his ear.

In one of those strange, private little things a person does that they never think another person would know or guess, Sans the Skeleton, when he was younger, would write his late mother's name over and over again, filling a page from top to bottom and then burning it before someone saw. It was her name. Gaster, Sans, and Papyrus's mother. 

Huh. 

Intrigued, you scanned back around her mention. Whatever the enormous, bound stack of documents and folders was, the translation spell was struggling. The Archivists had warned you that it could happen. The more archaic, formal, or purposely obtuse or ‘legal’ the text, the less the spell would be able to exactly translate in your vision. It reminded you of early Google translate; you could tell it was translating some words literally for lack of another option, making the text esoteric and confusing to parse out even a few sentences. 

Hmmm...something about trade; acknowledgement of a favor or gift, or an offering made compulsory? A demand or request? A far or extremely grueling journey or requirement as well, perhaps…and through it all, a firm denial. Rejection laced through every coldly polite affirmation, at least in these first, loose sheets. Letters, perhaps?

Then at the bottom of the last loose page in that ‘section’, a large, oddly drawn symbol caught your eye. It almost twisted in your sight, impossibly intricate and finely detailed, making you lean closer…and closer…

With a series of *POPS* that made you jump and yelp, the powder on your temples and eyes flared as if made of gunpowder and disappeared in puffs of burning smoke. Sans yelled to you, concerned as you swiped quickly at the little burns, afraid it would catch your hair on fire or hurt your eyes, hissing under your breath. He got up, but one of the Archivists got to you first.

“Here, quickly. Move hands.” The white and black-striped Baihu knocked your hands away, grabbing your chin as they spoke in their deep, rumbling voice. Before you could protest, squinting from the tiny burns on your eyelids and temples, they poured a green liquid from a little bottle unceremoniously over your face, making you sputter and jerk back. 

“What the hell, come on!” 

Undeterred, the Baihu watched you carefully as they handed you a hand towel- the liquid was cool and slippery, almost magically sinking into your skin, leaving very little to wipe away. “Mnemonic sigils, honored guest, keyed to humanity. The burns would continue, as punishment for reading a thing you are not meant to see.” When you wiped your eyes clear, you saw they were pointing to a table in back, where a series of the little clay bottles were lined up next to a human worker. “Not uncommon, searching ancient tomes. The essence will heal burns by sunrise. We keep on hand now when searching old writings; our people were-” they paused for a moment, searching for a polite way to phrase what they meant to say “-fearful of humanity finding and reading things not theirs.”

Even with the immediate coolness of the liquid you'd just been baptized with, it still ached. Grumbling under your breath, you thanked them; the tiger-looking Monster smiled and went back to their work as Sans trotted over.

“damn, just couldn't keep your eyes on the prize, huh?”

You snorted, wiping vaguely-viscous liquid out of your hairline. “Shut up, man. Here, as thanks for how much you were concerned and caring for me. Something for your boney-ass family.”

When you slid the huge, bound ream of texts over, watching his face as his eyelights roamed across the words, you realized that, unlike almost every single other person in the room, Sans had no translation magic on him. No little white-glowing dots of powder to be found. 

It made you smile softly to yourself, feeling fond. He was an interesting, intelligent man. As interesting as his brothers, immensely talented in his own ways. 

As you watched, you saw the moment his eye caught on the name. 

“...oh.” 

Leaning in, he carefully picked at the thin, woven ribbons binding other parts of the thick packet together, spreading out more and more documents from within. Some were even rolled into little scrolls, sealed with wax and bound together like reeds.

“this is…a lot. damn, mom, who were you writing to?”

You hummed, touching a fingertip to your temple; already the skin felt unmarred, though it still stung underneath. “Maybe writing to your dad?” Keeping your voice soft, you watched his face rather than risk looking at the documents again. “Gaster said he traveled for long times, maybe…”

He was shaking his head. “too formal. way too formal. english doesn't really have a comparison. it'd be insulting to send someone close to you anything written like this, ya know?” 

Then he fell quiet and distant, reading for some time. Gaster came in half an hour later from some task in the palace; rather than risk the translation spell again for a few minutes, you went to him, smiling as he bowed to you in an overly formal, silly way. 

“Anything Fun While I Was Gone?”

You waved a hand in the air. “Depends on what you mean by fun. Come look at what I found.”

At the back of the room, progress was finally being made at moving that final, magically-worked stone set of shelves. They were enormous, over fifty feet long and in one solid piece. A trio of Stone Sprites had been working on it since you'd arrived and obviously hours before, carefully segmenting it and labeling it to be reassembled elsewhere. Apparently, it wasn't uncommon to conceal even more important records behind a seemingly final set of them. Gaster went to his brother, who started murmuring to him softly; you stopped next to another human, a tall, elderly gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and wire frame glasses, and watched from a safe distance as the shelf sections were floated away on magical devices.

“Wish we'd had those, moving my granddaughter out of her dorm last week,” he muttered, making you grin. “Would've been hellish easier.”

“I'm sure!” you agreed. Holding out your hand, you introduced yourself. He took it with a wide smile, his teeth dazzlingly white against his dark skin. “Doctor Charles Marina. Call me Charlie. I handle rare books and texts for the Ebbot museum.”

Nodding, you both winced as a large piece of stone slid to the floor with a low crash. “I've seen your name on exhibits before. Good to put a face to it.”

Then you both fell silent, watching as the work continued. As more and more of the wall was revealed, you heard various Monster workers exclaim their relief that it was just a wall. No hidden magical secrets, no extra work for them to do.

But…something about the shape the water was trickling down in...almost angular, as if following sharper lines than nature would provide...

Turning to your new acquaintance, you murmured, “Does something about that look odd to you?”

He was nodding by the time you finished your sentence. “Looks…carved, right?”

It did. It was faint, incredibly faint. A literal millenia of constantly running water flowing down the wall had worn even the sharpest engravings down to barely perceptible, shallow divots in the stone. The divots were only visible to the slightest degree thanks to the magical lamps in the room casting them into regular shadows.

Gaster slid up beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders. His voice was whisper-quiet and playful, making you smile; it was always nice to know that your man had friends. “Ah, I Step Away For But A Moment, And Some Bastard Shows Up To Take My Woman’s Attention For Himself.”

Charlie grinned. “Piss off, old man. And good to see you. Put your eyes on that instead, notice anything?” He pointed at the wall. Gaster blinked, glancing at it in half-interest. “An Uninteresting Wall? A Lovely Natural Feature Of This Miserable Sauna Of A Room? I Think The Humidity Is Collecting In My Skull, I Can Hear The Ocean.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “That's your vapid disposition in liquid form.” As Gaster chuckled, the other human turned to you. “See, I've noticed this before. They just don't have the same pattern recognition as us. I don't know if it's because they see with magic eyeballs instead of normal ones-” he shrugged off Gaster's offended flick over your shoulder “-or if they just aren't made for it like we are. They don't notice the same things.”

You hummed, intrigued. “Interesting…maybe it comes down to where we all evolved? An underground and plains-dwelling species, versus a forest of primates…”

A sigh interrupted you. “And Would The Forest Primates Be Willing To Bring This Pitiful Plains Dweller Into The Loop?” The taller man's voice was immensely patient over your head. 

Grinning, you leaned into his hug, pointing at the now almost completely-exposed back wall of the room. “We think that was carved, or manipulated somehow. It looks like it was.”

With a squint, Gaster took a second, harder look…and shook his head. “I…Damn. I Really Don't See It. You Think So?”

Charlie nodded. “I only noticed it at all because of the straight lines- so many of your fourth-dynasty pictograms begin with a single or double straight line, to show emphasis, along with the double-dot punctuation on the verticals.” Catching your impressed look, he grinned again. “What? They have me here for a reason, you know. I've made a career translating human Coptic and two eras of hieroglyphics. Not too much of a stretch for their Majesties to share their own records with the local language nut. I've advised on and off for a few years now.”

You motioned to the wall, impressed. “I just thought it looked vaguely manipulated. It's amazing that you can catch that level of detail.”

Gaster squeezed your shoulders. “A Moment, Then. This Could Be Interesting. Or Not. We'll See.” As he trotted across the room to a cluster of Archivists, Sans beckoned you over. 

“It was nice to see you here!” you exclaimed to Charlie, as the man peered at the wall still. “Excuse me for a minute.” He waved you off, clearly focused on the mystery at hand. 

Sans had bundled up all the writings into neat stacks again. “you're a lucky girl, to have found this little pot of family gold. we're gonna send it to the palace for official translation. it's too much, even for little ol’ me. g's mentioned in it, did you see that?”

You shook your head. “I didn't get past the first few pages that I opened it to. What's being said about him?”

Sans shrugged. “little bit i glanced over? basically part of a long, long family tree.” His face softened. “it'll be nice to know…you know? thanks, for real. we don't have hardly anything from her.” He tapped the top page. “she wrote a lot of this, i think. like they're her letters, her documents, that she paid someone a fuckin’ fortune to preserve like this.”

The thought occurred to you. “Maybe she left it for you guys to find. I heard one of the workers here mention that the wall was just shaped shale; it was a miracle it never broke before now. I bet all of this was supposed to be uncovered as soon as enough people woke up to find it. This part of the Mountain was like, ‘used’ by Monsters even before the war, right?”

Sans nodded, a little sadness warring with happiness on his face as he traced a fingertip over the stack of parchment. “...yeah. the mountain was always inhabited, one way or another. lots of pretty ancient stuff floatin’ around here.”

When a palace runner came for the documents a few minutes later, you could see the war in Sans’ face. He didn't want to give up something that had touched his mother's hands.

“Here, why not hold on to some? You can work on them yourself.” Carefully, you sectioned off a top stack of neatly folded parchment, setting them aside. Though of course you couldn't be sure, the way they were folded made you think they could be letters. “Then if you finish with those, you can get more back from them.”

He nodded, sighing. “yeah…yeah. good idea.” He smiled tiredly at the Rabbit who was nearly bouncing in place with energy. “hey there, lizzy. careful with these, alright? straight to the royal scribes, don't pass go. don't even collect two-hundred.”

The Rabbit grinned. “I wouldn't stop even for four hundred!” With infinite care, and more than a little hesitation, Sans lifted the large, bound ream of documents and set them carefully in the magical bag that the runner held open for him. The two of you fell silent for a bit as she trotted from the room, magically gaining speed, and watched as Gaster spoke quietly with some other Monsters. 

Then-

“you ever miss them? your parents?”

Sighing, you dragged a chair over, settling down beside Sans as you rubbed your sore eyes. “All the time. Feels like I'm on the ocean sometimes, and there's no other ship around.”

“...yeah.”

And that was how Gaster found the two of you sometime later; Sans in a quiet, unobtrusive moment of soft mourning, and you silently supporting him. 

“Come On, Brother Dearest. I'm Sick Of This Steamroom. Let's Go Get Something To Eat.” When his brother didn't answer right away, Gaster tilted his head to the side. Sure enough, a trickle of water poured from the gap in the bone behind his jaw. “Look, I'm Going To Grow Mildew, Disgusting And Gray. Would You Want That For Her?”

You were giggling by then. When his answer finally came, Sans’ voice was soft, but there was real humor in it. 

“...alright, alright. don't wring yourself dry over it.”

Notes:

Strange secrets, hidden in the dark.

I picture this place looking like that Buddhist temple in Tibet, just floor to ceiling scrolls, manuscripts, and bound bundles of magically-preserved parchment and papyrus sheets, jammed so tightly together that you couldn't slide a sheet of paper in between.

Discuss ancient history with me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 17: Words from the Past

Like most things in life, the moment of excitement and discovery of the wall of engravings was immediately overshadowed by the hours of ‘hurry up and wait’ that followed, despite Gaster's suggestion to leave for something to eat. Requests were apparently going to be sent to Monsters who specialized in seeing things as they happened in the past, which was such an astounding thing to hear your man say that you had to repeat it a few times in your head just to be sure you heard right. 

Time passed. Sans started a game of checkers on his phone with Gaster. You were slouched back against the wall, checking your own phone again and again to see if any more news had come about your brother; none so far. 

Answers trickled back in from other Monster organizations as Gaster tried to figure out a way to gracefully remove the three of you from the situation- you weren't needed, but the two brother's statuses made them the de facto leaders of the little discovery until the higher ups of the Archivists Guild finally sent a message saying they were on their way. The moment it arrived, Gaster nearly carried you out, hurrying before he and Sans got captured in another Very Important Duty.

And so, after a ferry ride and a few choice moments of teleportation courtesy of Sans later, you found yourself walking down New Home's Main Street with the two men. As always, you smiled to be in that strange, second world that almost seemed like another home after two years at their University. Sans was having fun telling some new joke he'd learned, much to his brother's good-natured annoyance, which left you a moment of peace and quiet behind them just to look, really look, at your man as he wandered along with his hands in his pockets rolling his eyes at Sans’ antics.

Oh, but watching him move amongst his people was so fascinating. 

If you'd never been told (or hinted, really, for he wouldn't do more than that) that Gaster was something more than the average Monster, then just watching him walk through the Underground would have been all the information you needed. It was a busy shopping day, the street crowded with Monsters of every shape and size. And despite his general reputation for prickliness, despite the dour expression on his face when his favorite restaurant was ‘closed for family matters’ per the sign, still his people just…followed him. Moved with him, naturally. A borderline herd-instinct, as if he made a current where he walked and the Monsters around him gravitated toward it. 

When he stopped to chat with someone he apparently knew, a tall, beautifully-feathered and lion-bodied woman with enormous wings, and a veritable swarm of children just sort of organically settled in to play around the two of them, you stepped forward to whisper into Sans’ skull.

“Is it always like this, for him? This inherent…I don't know, ‘leadership’? I've never seen him amongst enough Monsters before to notice it.”

Giving you a lopsided grin, he shrugged, backing up a bit to put some rooms between the two of you and the new duo.

“here and there. i think he thinks it makes his work or abilities less important, like he was handed an advantage. so good luck gettin’ him to talk about it.”

You hummed, watching with a small smile when the woman pulled Gaster in for a hug. You'd never seen him so familiar with someone not in his family before; it made you curious as to who she could be.

“Is it conscious?”

Sans shook his head. “it can be. but it doesn't have to be. he could clear this street out if he raised his voice and people wouldn't even question why they listened. couple tens'a'thousands of years ago, he would've been fightin’ with their majesties over who was the big cheese in the rat nest. now we're all civilized and such, so it doesn't matter much anymore…until it does. oops, you're wanted compadre.”

Gaster was beckoning you forward, the almost painfully beautiful and exotic looking woman- a Griffon, maybe?- smiling widely beside him in a way that curled the edges of her feline-yet-beaked muzzle. It made you a bit self-conscious to even imagine standing before her in all her jewel-toned beauty, emerald greens and brilliant golds against your human tans and browns. Fighting the urge to smooth your hair back, you fixed a smile on your face and walked up to the two of them…only to be immediately wrapped in the softest, most delicately aloeswood-scented downy arms and wings you could imagine. 

“How lovely to meet you.” The woman pushed you back with large, heavy paws on both your shoulders to turn you this way and that. “And of course, it is lovely to meet me!”

Huh. That was certainly one way to introduce oneself. She smiled hugely, shaking her head for a second to fluff her feathers and let them settle again. “Gaster always said that magic and learning were more interesting than women. I told him, and his blessed mother, that one day he'd find a woman just as interesting…and I doubt any of us could have predicted it would be someone like you!” 

You blinked for a moment, blushing; you…. thought it was a compliment? “Um…thank you? I hope that's a good thing?”

Beside you, Gaster grumbled in his throat. “Origami…”

If anything, ‘Origami's’ smile only widened, showing metallic silver teeth and wickedly-sharp fangs- it was bizarre to see teeth within a beaked mammalian muzzle. “Oh it is! It is!” Turning and keeping one paw on your shoulder, she gestured to your man with the other. “You are an excellent pair. A brilliant, beautiful human and a gifted Maegister…I cannot begin to fathom the heights you will soar to together.” 

Gaster's expression soured even further as the woman glibly pointed out something he'd kept mostly private. Then he twitched; a young coyote pup at his feet was tugging on his pants leg. He crouched as the two of you, and Sans further back, looked on while his face softened. “And What Can I Do For You?” he asked.

The pup, in mud-stained, striped overalls and bright orange boots, grinned up at him, and pointed at the store window next to you all, where a veritable mountain of candies and other sweets was on display for the candy store within. Seemingly he was merely the leader, for all the other children were looking on equally as excitedly.

The sweetness of it all nearly melted your heart as, dutifully, your man nodded without another word, turned, and went into the store. Sans snorted, walking up to join you and gently flicking the pup's ear. “what a pushover, huh?” The little Monster snapped at his fingers playfully as another, an even younger-seeming reptilian Monster with brilliantly pink and silver scales, smiled up at the shorter Skeleton with all her sharp little teeth. 

Origami laughed musically, smoothing your hair back behind your ear and shifting to instead have her arm around your shoulder, keeping you as close as she would an old friend. “You see?” she asked, her voice light and happy. “They aren't like the rest of us, all worried about propriety and politeness. They know he will care for them, and so they ask. Fearless with him, as they should be.” When you blinked at her, not sure as to her meaning, she only shrugged. “Doubtless you've seen it, yes? He will wear himself ragged for his people…for all of us. It is his nature. To protect, to provide. To guide and discover and make new. What a lucky lady you are!” 

It clicked then, for you. This woman was almost painfully maternal in reference to Gaster. Pride shined from her eyes as you all watched him through the window at the counter within. It filled you with pride too; pride that he was yours, that he was such a good, good man. 

“Are you related then, ma'am?” 

She shook her head as Sans waved to the two of you. “i'm gonna go ahead and see if maury's has a table open. tell gaster, when he escapes the clutches of these little demons. good to see you, ori.”

A series of outraged raspberries and exclamations rang out from the children as he turned and meandered down the road, stepping sideways into an alley and blinking out of sight. 

Origami sighed, watching him go. “Not by blood, no. His mother was a dear friend of mine. I am his godsmother.”

It took a moment for what she'd said to process. Then, blinking, you turned to stare at her. 

“P-pardon?” It was unimaginable. You knew, consciously, that Gaster had been a young man when humanity had turned on the Monsters. You knew that meant he was, despite his relatively young-to-middle-aged presentation, over a thousand years old. He'd told you himself. 

But here, with her arm over your shoulders and her wing curled around you in a friendly way, was a woman old enough that she'd known his mother before the war…known her well enough and long enough that she'd been named the Monster version of a godmother to him, presumably at his birth. 

Catching your astonished eye, she patted your shoulder gently and released you as Gaster headed back toward the shop entrance, a bag in both hands. 

“Quite a thing to imagine, isn't it?” He'd just reached out to open the door and rejoin you both when she dropped her voice low, low enough that the excitedly yelling children covered her next words. “And even more unimaginable, yet so very exciting, that his power could make you much the same. The first human in a thousand years to receive The Gift.”

Stuttering, you reached for her, your thoughts scrambling as you tried to get her to explain just what exactly she meant by that (since it couldn't possibly be what it sounded like), but she'd already stepped away, taking one of the bags from Gaster. And so you were left floundering amongst a sea of laughing, giggling little ones as they grabbed for the sweets Origami passed out. As Gaster walked toward you, a small frown starting to form in response to whatever the shocked expression was on your face, the beautiful Griffon winked over his shoulder and put a finger to her lips. 

As surely as if she'd put a hand over your mouth, the very moment you even thought to ask him what she'd meant later, your lips sealed tight. You could almost feel a feathery finger pressed to them.

“Thank You For Your Help, Origami. My Dear? You Look Rather Perturbed.” 

You tried once more just to see if the magic would catch you a second time; it did. Narrowing your eyes for the barest moment at the Griffon (and earning a bold giggle in return as she pointedly did not look at you), you turned your face up to him. “Oh, nothing. My little human brain just has trouble grasping that Miss Origami here knew your mother. You Monsters sure do stretch a girl's temporal thinking.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, handing a chocolate bunny to a clamoring Fire Spritling without even looking. “Ah, Well…Yes. I…I Guess It Would Be Odd To You. You Take So Many Things In Stride So Easily, It's Easy To Assume You Will For Everything.” Then, smiling crookedly in that boyish way that seemed to be reserved only for you, he presented you with the last thing in his paper bag; a small, prettily wrapped box. “Perhaps This Will Ease The Surprise?”

Origami cooed over his shoulder, waving while the children dispersed back to whatever they'd been doing before congregating around him, as you smiled despite her mischief and slid a nail under the gold tape holding the sides shut. Within the box, six beautifully decorated little fruits of some kind sat in individual wax paper cups, looking for all the world like little faceted orangish-red jewels. 

“Gemberries. A Speciality Of Hotland. They Taste Different To Each Person Who Tries Them, Magically Like Their Favorite Thing. And They Grow Only Where Magma Has Newly Burst Through The Rock.”

Reaching over his shoulder, Origami brushed an invisible speck of dust off his collar. “I'm off, my dear. I believe your brother went on ahead to find you all a restaurant. It was lovely to see you both!” 

Before you could say a word, she winked at you, held up three fingers, and then leapt straight up into the air with a huge gust of wind, magically propelling herself far into the cavern heights and swooping off. 

You watched her go, bemused. “I'm going to ruin a bit of your godsmother's fun here, my love.” When Gaster arched a brow at you, you shrugged. “I've been bespelled. Three hours, or perhaps three days, if I'm to assume what she just gestured at me.”

He frowned. “Bespelled…By Origami?” When you nodded, his frown deepened. “Do You Know Why?”

Reaching over, you took his arm, and began walking down the street, remembering (vaguely) where the restaurant was that Sans had mentioned. “I assume to keep me from asking you about something she told me, before she had time to leave. All rottenly and mischievously.”

Gaster put his hand over yours. “Well That Was Certainly Not Appropriate…But Such Are The Habits Of Many Older And More Mythical Monsters. They're Used To Doing Such Things To Humans And Younger Folks. I Can Break It For You, If You'd Like?”

Thinking about it, you watched as a young couple walking your way giggled with each other, walking hand in hand. “Maybe it would be for the best. I'm not the fondest of a silencing spell, no matter what the other person doesn't want me to ask about.”

Only your hold on his arm, and how well you knew him, let you feel the tiny, barely-there stiffening of his posture- the immediate worry that something about him, or something he'd done, wasn't measuring up to your standards. “Nothing Bad, I Hope?”

Your heart melted. So important was he, so lauded and looked up to, that it was easy to forget how severely anxious he was at the heart, always quick to presume the worst. “No, love.” You leaned your head against his arm as the two of you walked, the little paper bag with his candy gift dangling over your elbow. “Nothing bad at all. Just…” 

The magic itched at the back of your lips, making you hesitate. How specific was its parameters? What could you get away with?

“It was a discussion of…time. Its length and passing. And the differences in…existence, between, say, a human woman, and perhaps a more important-” The spell kicked in on “Monster”, making your teeth snap together. 

You grumbled in your throat. Gaster waited, then glanced down at you, realization dawning on his features. “Ah…’Monster’.” 

You nodded when he finished your words, making him grimace. “I…I Promise You, I Wasn't Putting Off An Important Conversation. I Just…”

Shaking your head, you followed him as he directed you off the sidewalk into the more private entry courtyard of a small park nearby. “No, I get it. I really do. It would sound intense to anyone.” 

Gaster reached down, cupping your cheek. “Would You Like Me To Be Frank?” At your nod, he sighed, beginning to sketch magical signs in a ticklish way on your cheek, lips, and jaw. Despite the fuss, it was always a pleasure to see him work magic; his experience and skill made it seem so effortless. “I Don't Like Acknowledging That Part Of Myself. Much Less Figuring Out How To Say, ‘Now That We've Been Together For A Few Months, Dearest Human Woman, Have You Considered Living For An Extra Few Lifetimes?’ Without Sounding Like I Carried Some Immense Expectations.”

You snorted, grinning. “Yeah. That would do it.” As something on your face started to turn cool, you smiled up at him. “Though I…well, I…oh jeez, I don't know how to say this without sounding weird either.”

Gaster cocked his head, putting his palms together and sliding them apart. As he did, it felt as though sticky caramel was pulled off your lips. “Oh?”

You were blushing so prettily that it nearly made his hands tremble, lovely in wide-legged grey trousers and a blue top. Vague fantasies of plucking Origami like a Christmas goose danced through his imagination as he peeled the tricky Griffon's magic off you, throwing it to the ground to absorb and disperse into the flagstone. 

Hesitating, you ran your tongue along the back of your teeth at the sensation of the spell breaking…and then half-changed the subject so quickly that it took him a moment to catch up. “I liked seeing you. With the little ones, I mean. It was really sweet.”

Now it was his turn to blush faintly, waving off your compliment. “Nonsense.”

There was something deeply emotional in your eyes the longer he held them with his own. He'd noticed it earlier, mixed with shock as you watched him leave the shop and Origami whispered in your ear. 

Awe. Simple awe. 

At him? Impossible. Yet it was with that look in your eye that you reached up, gripped him by his black tie, and pulled him down; giddily, he prepared himself for your kiss, feeling a bit like he’d stepped off an underwater ledge without meaning to. 

Only you didn't kiss him…but instead slid your lips along his sharp cheekbone to the side of his head. The feeling of your whisper there made him shiver.

“I don't quite know what to think of it…I don't even understand, at all, what she told me. And a walk down Main Street isn't the best place to talk about it, Origami was right about that. But…if…” You released him, stepping into his arms as he straightened again, and by the way you chewed your lip a moment, hesitating, he realized that you were just as nervous as him. That this was just as vulnerable for you. 

“If a woman were to spend lifetimes with her partner…something so completely unimaginable to a human…then she would be grateful, beyond any words she could find, that he is such a god. damned. good one.” Your eyes shone as you gazed up at him. “She would be grateful to love him so much.”

Fire lit, low in his belly. There was no more powerful aphrodisiac than the genuine love in your Soul at that moment, adding unspoken depths to your hesitant words. Heedless of any watchers, heedless of where he was or the fact that his brother perhaps waited with boredom somewhere ahead, Gaster pulled you to himself and kissed you so hard that you squeaked. By the time he released you, you were blushing darkly enough that it spread down to your chest, and you were breathing a little hard. Full of pride at how reddened your lips were, he leaned down to murmur in your ear. 

“On My Soul, Since Being With You…Gemberries Taste Like Your Lips.”

Gods above, but was there anything in this wide world more delicious than feeling a woman go literally weak in the knees for you? 

Your voice was breathless when you found it at last, your hands spread across his chest. “It's a damned shame that you can't teleport like your brother, or else he'd be eating lunch all by himself…I want you so badly that I can't hardly stand it right now.”

Sitting in a dark house, haunted by failure and past misery, Gaster had never wanted to acknowledge the truth of what he was before- why would he? But now, with his arms full of a woman who loved him, and plainly wanted him like the sun wanted the moon? Now it felt good to brag…just a little. To show off, just a little. And so it was with hot pride that he chuckled so deeply in his chest that he saw your lashes flutter. “Pretty, Pretty Girl…Why Bother? I Could Press You To This Wall Beside Us, And Turn Aside The Eyes Of Every Single Person In This District.” 

Gleefully, he watched while you plainly considered it, your eyes going dark and molten. 

Then-

“for god's sake, i leave for ten minutes and the two of you are off making eyes in a garden. teenagers, i swear.”

As you rolled your eyes, laughing a little and disentangling yourself, Gaster shot a dirty look at his newly-arrived brother. 

All he got was a wink in return.

---

You all were just finishing your lunch-dinner when a message flew in, magically folded into a flapping paper bird- the Seer's Guild had arrived, along with Gaster's ‘special project’. Sans teleported both of you back directly to the Catacomb, then left to take a nap, asking for a full rundown of whatever happened

Sadly, this was interfering greatly with your plans to molest your partner, but the interesting things in the room nearly made up for it. A Boar woman with scarlet-red and wirey bristles, wearing a long white robe of some kind with a hood currently pushed back, stood arm-in-arm with a young human man wearing a comfortable tshirt and jeans. Low chairs and collapsible writing desks had been lined up neatly on the far side of the room from the carved wall, as well as a row of folding wooden screens. Ten or so other Monsters had arrived also wearing similar garb to the Boar woman, fiddling with baskets and bags they’d laid out against one wall of now half-emptied stone shelves. Closer to you, a double handful of Monsters talked softly as they stood around the desks.

Gaster led you behind the screens, showing how they were enchanted to act as one-way mirrors. “So, what's this special project of yours?”

He grinned at you, plainly pleased with himself. “Well It Isn't All Mine. I Only Put The Word In Gemsight's Ear, The Head Of The Seers, To Give Them An Idea. The Seed Of An Idea, Really. They're The Ones That Took Off With The Project, And With Tremendous Success. I Am Astounded At Just How Successful It Is.”

Smiling flirtatiously, you walked your fingers up his chest, now that the two of you were alone in the shadows where no one could see you. “And what, pray tell, is this project? Oh wise and smart man of mine?”

He gazed at you, lifting your fingers to his lips and flicking his tongue ever so barely between your third and fourth; a feather touch that made you shiver with how it fluttered down to your core. “It All Started A Month Or So Ago, Actually. First, To Ply Their Majesties And A Few Others Of My Fellow…Perpetuals…To See If They Remembered Any Other Old Lore Of Human And Monster Pairings. Not Necessarily Just Romantic, But As Overall Magical Partners Or Compliments To Each Other.” 

Behind him, the man had settled down onto a stool in front of the Seer, his long legs gangly and awkward on the low furniture as he brushed his bright-red hair out of his eyes. Despite the start of lines around his eyes, his facial hair was…honestly a bit sparse, though he obviously tried his best to convince it to be a goatee. His eyes were large and startlingly gray, his arms lanky, his chin sharp…

All in all, physically not the most conventionally attractive man. 

Yet there was the wonder of it; for he was undeniably handsome, despite all of that. The spark of fun in his eye was bright and tempting, his lips promising mischief and excitement with every little grin. Just the way moved was full of exuberance and excitement; he was constantly chattering to his partner, pointing things out in the room, or reaching out and fussing with her ceremonial garb. The way the woman smiled at him with affection when he wasn't looking was undeniable as well. 

He reminded you, just the tiniest bit, of Papyrus.

Gaster’s cracking voice was warm. “Second, To Seek Out Particularly Interesting Pairings Of Monsters And Humans Who Fit The Criteria Of Those Old Stories And Legends. There's Something About These Two, Something About Him- He Is A True Orange Soul, The Color Complete From Edge To Edge.” 

He dropped his already soft speech to be even softer. “There Is, Of All Things, A Set Of Old Children’s Stories- Prince And Princess Fables -That Describe The Holder Of Such An Orange Soul. The Human Prince Is Named Persimmon-” you giggled “-Who Is Praised Throughout The Stories For, Essentially, His Skill At Speaking And Motivating Others. He Meets And Convinces A Captive Monster Princess Of Her Talents In Battle And Noble History, The Memories Of Which Were Stolen From Her Inexorably By A Witch. She Conquers His Evil Uncle And Gives Him Back His Kingdom As He Sings Battle Songs Of Praise To Embolden Her, Riding As Her Standard Bearer. In The End, She Attributes Her Victories Both To Her Own Skill, But Also To The Power Of His Words.”

Your hum of interest was quiet; you were watching the two now with a soft smile on your face as you listened. 

Gaster continued, his voice growing a bit hoarse with use. “So Imagine My Interest When The Most Baffling Timeline Was Brought To My Attention. A Senior Student Of The Seer School, Narani-” he motioned to the Boar “-Nearing Graduation Yet Suddenly Skyrocketing In Accuracy And Power. A Subject So Unique That It Came Up In Several Upper University Meetings, Because It's Something That Shouldn't Be Possible. Those Born With The Seer Gift Are Born With A Finite Ability, Not Something That Can Be Trained To Be Stronger Or More Powerful. Just More Accurate And Less Taxing On The Body. Yet Somehow She Was Becoming Stronger. Reaching Further Back And Forward In Time. And Wouldn't You Know, But She'd Made Friends With A Human Student At The University Not Two Months Before That Sudden Explosion Of Power Was Noted. They'd Started Posting Pictures Of Themselves Together On The Undernet And Added Each Other To Their ‘Best Friends’ Lists, Which Is Rather Adorable If You Ask Me.”

You cocked a brow, your voice soft to avoid being overheard as you mulled the wonders he was describing over. Despite years of experience in the Underground, you'd never heard of people being able to see the past and future. “So…you think he somehow makes her stronger?”

He shook his head, pressing your hand to his chest for a second, then switching to sign to rest his voice. “No. I think Neal makes her braver. He makes her believe in herself. He gives her the confidence to ‘reach further’, so to speak, than she would on her own. You’ll see how soft-spoken and nervous she is. I think she has always been great. Greatly gifted, greatly skilled. But she is painfully shy and nervous by nature. He gives her the strength to be more.”

Bizarrely, you felt your eyes fill with tears as the implication and poetry of the moment struck you. “...it could have always been like this. A thousand years, it could have been like this. It's so beautiful, so…so magical.” You shook your head, staring up at your man. “It's so sad.” 

Gaster nodded, holding your eye as your words carried softly through the air. “...Yes. I think so too.”

The two of you fell quiet then, watching as the handful of what Gaster pointed out to be senior Seers and assistants present laid out precise lines of crushed and precious minerals, dried rare herbs, and other magical materials, drawing intricate designs around the Seer woman and her partner. Then one of them coached her softly for some minutes as others in the room began pouring their magic into the working they'd begun, her partner also listening intently. Magical feathers, gemstones, lines of light, bursts of sound and music; a veritable visual explosion of unique magics formed and faded as each member of the guild did their part. 

“And this? What is this?”

“Protection. Both forward and backwards, though I don't fully understand it myself. And extremely rare for Monsters- most magical workings aren't done as groups. We are a solitary species when it comes to our power.” He gazed at the scene before you both, handsome in the flickering light as he gracefully signed. “The Seers insist that what they do is not time magic, and yet they raise incredible wards to prevent the interference of the Seer while they work in the past and future. To ensure that they only look, and do not alter. And most importantly, as protection for the Seer themself. The further they travel, the further they cast their eye, the greater chance to get lost on The Great Journey there and returning. At least, that's how it's been explained to me. Much of what they do is kept under the strictest oaths- no outsiders are allowed access to their teachings.”

“Until a big important Boss Monster comes along and encourages them to let a stinky old human man in,” you teased, fascinated by what he was explaining and guessing easily what his role in it all was- your man's respect for tradition and custom lasted only until common sense or necessity called. 

Gaster shrugged, entirely unashamed of himself. “What is the good of all this weight If I can’t throw it around sometimes? You have no frame of reference for the name, so I'll just say that her teachers compare her to one of the most powerful Seers of Monster history as far as aptitude; a Seer who was also capable of reaching so incredibly far back in history. He's part of that, I'm sure of it. He emboldens her, giving her strength and courage to overcome her own walls….look, it's starting. Now we shall see.”

Monsters with paper, pens, pencils, and more esoteric writing tools like glass pens and even quills had been taking seats ay the small writing desks in the ‘aisle’ before the two of you as you talked hidden behind the screens. Now, they sat at total attention, their writing implements poised in their hands as they waited. 

You gestured at them, and Gaster raised his hands. “Magical scribes. Monsters with the unique trained ability to remember and almost instantly transcribe anything they see with perfect accuracy. Also members of the Seer Guild. No technology yet has been discovered that allows for photographs of Seer visions, so this is how they're preserved.” 

This was so far beyond your experience. Purely into the land of the mythical; like high magic from fantasy books made real. You couldn't imagine the cost alone of this ritual- some of the lines on the ground were drawn in powdered gold, you'd swear it, not to mention the thirty-odd guildmembers present. “Well…damn.”

Time passed. Gaster went from standing beside you to sitting in one of the chairs placed up against the wall on your other side as, across the room, the Seer's teacher stepped away, joining five others in a soft, whispering and ululating chant while the magic on the floor began to pulse. It was rhythmic but oddly unsteady; the far side of the room soon began to shimmer and warp as if in a severe heat mirage, making you turn away for a moment as nausea tickled at the back of your throat. Eventually, you turned away and sat beside your man, giving your churning stomach a chance to settle. 

Beside you, Gaster watched the scene with rapt interest. “First, the Trance. It may be violent, it may not- it depends on the Seer. Don't be alarmed. She knows what she's doing.”

Sure enough, as you squinted at the scene before you, the kneeling Seer suddenly convulsed. A full-body shake, one that made her throw out an arm; the man before her caught it, his gaze calm and focused on her. He was whispering something, his mouth barely moving; it was impossible to hear over the lowly rising voices of the others. 

A few moments passed. Then, she convulsed again, her shoulders hitching up hard as she fell forward, her forehead pressed to the stone between her spread hands in almost a bow. Her partner was there with her instantly, his hands on her back, almost pressing her down into that position as he arched over her head, sliding from his stool to kneel as well. They stayed that way for some time, the chant beating strangely in your ears; it felt like binaural music, as if it was echoing from one side of your skull to the other. 

And then slowly-

slowly

The Seer began to rock and shake in time with the chant around her, her breath audibly heaving in and out as it hissed through her teeth, her feet occasionally twitching. In a human, it would have looked alarmingly like a seizure, but none of the closely watching Monster staff were showing any concern at all. 

Her partner was breathing with her; you could hear it steady and measured, as if giving her a metronome to follow. Or perhaps he, too, was caught up in the power of the rite, for even across the room you could feel the magic building like a storm in the air. 

As minutes passed, it made you feel oddly…heated. Energized. You wanted to do something- to go for a run, or maybe yell or scream. 

Though his firm touch never left his partner, the human man suddenly looked up, past the scribes, and into your eyes despite the solid wooden screens before you.

You could have sworn on your own blood that a single, bright burst of orange light flickered at the edges of your vision for just the briefest moment. 

Beside you, Gaster put an arm around your hip possessively, signing with the other hand. He had to raise his hand into your vision to repeat himself, for you could not tear your eyes away from the other human in the room.

“My dear? What's wrong?”

You were barely able to focus on speaking. “I…nothing, I…I don't know. Neal…he...I don't know. I don't know.” 

Gaster said something else; it was lost. For Neal had mouthed something to you. 

“She's got this. She's done it before.”

You blinked…and nodded. Never mind that you weren't the best lip reader, usually. It was as if he was speaking right in your ear, his clear tenor somehow audible. 

Your voice was a whisper as it left you unbidden. “I believe you.”

Beside you, Gaster looked between the two of you sharply, his eyes calculating. The chant grew louder; seemingly, the other Monsters in the room were unaffected by it. They waited calmly and easily. 

There was good-humored pity in Neal's not-there voice; sympathy that the others around him couldn't understand the potential that he could in his friend. “They say it's too far back. But some could do it before. I read it. In their books. And she's done it, secretly, just her and me. Don't tell, okay?”

“I believe you,” you whispered again.

All at once, the Seer threw herself backwards, her back arching, her hands reaching forward as she stared open-mouthed and gasping at the ceiling. On her forehead, a seam of brilliant, white light had appeared. It trembled for a moment…and split open. 

It was an eye. 

Neal was staring at you, waiting for something. He wanted you to say something. 

So you did…and your voice was so quiet it couldn't even be heard. 

He did anyway.

“She can do it.” 

Color and imagery exploded into existence around the Seer and her partner, like a VHS tape of divine madness set to rewind at a thousand miles a minute. Flashes of people, things; you swore you saw yourself for a moment, smeared like an oil painting, with Gaster beside you. And then a long, long period of darkness, as magic churned and swirled. The Seer's chants had reached a zenith, loud and demanding, carrying their young protégé back to a time none of them could reach themselves. One trembled…and fell silent, swaying on his feet. An assistant rushed up and helped them backwards to sit. Another soon followed, shaking and gray- and still the Seer reached back, and back, and back. A thousand years of dark enclosure to overcome. 

---

Gaster watched with his aetherial sight as power flickered and zipped around Neal, lightning gently on the young woman's skin for a moment before leaping off again, like damselflies touching down on water for just a moment. Beside him, you held the other man's gaze with your own. Speaking those same words…

Speaking them into reality. 

Truth, made manifest. Blue human magic, natural magic, sourced from the Soul instead of the body like a Mage would, spreading like soft motes of fireflies drifting across the room to settle on the man's hands and face.

Again you mouthed the words, “She can do it.”

Gaster gave a tiny shake of his head in awe and fascination, not quite understanding what he was witnessing. Humans were far more apt at group magic, yes, but this was amazing.  

The Seer was fully lost to it now. Her own eyes were white and rolled back, her Seer's eye open and staring, directing the space around her back further, and further, and further. It was impossible to judge her success, or even to estimate how long it would take; the room had been sealed in darkness for at least a thousand years, and she had to push through all of that to the time before.

Darkness.

Still darkness.

And then a pause…a moment of silence, like the intake of a breath…

An image blurred into existence- a thousand years of time surpassed. Narani had done it. 

The dark emptiness in the projection vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. Now, a short, slim Monster, red-scaled and vaguely avian in appearance, slumped against the wall, magic spreading from her outstretched hands to form complex molten carvings as she melted and shaped the stone. The room exploded into movement and noise, every royal scribe sketching the entire image as fast as they could. 

Beside Gaster, you blinked, broken from whatever trance you'd been in as Neal looked away from you and focused on his partner. She was shaking from exertion, straining to hold the vision for as long as possible, to give the watching scribes and other observers the longest chance that she could to capture every detail. He put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close…and then jolted in surprise as a soft white paw landed atop his hand. The Queen smiled down at you both, her voice quiet enough to be hidden under the other murmurs of the room. “This is a wonder to behold. I am glad I found time away from royal duties to be here.”

Your immediate, wide-eyed stare, half-tripping over your feet as you tried to stand and curtsy at the same time, made the Queen purse her lips. “Stop that, sit down silly. You were just doing magic, were you not?” 

Gaster stroked your arm as you searched for words. “I…yes, maybe? But I'm not a Mage, your majesty, I…we only recently learned that I could even…well it's not really me, it's not my magic, it's…um…” 

As your voice petered out, and Gaster looked on bemusedly to see you so flustered for the first time since he'd known you, the Queen laughed softly. “I see. I've often meant to meet you, the wonderful woman who caught the eye of this old grumbler-” he shot her a dirty look “-and never had the chance. Is this not fascinating?” Her graceful gesture encompassed the room.

“It is, your majesty.” As people so often did, you relaxed under his arm in the face of Toriel's gentle demeanor. “It really, really is. Like something out of a story, it's amazing to imagine that it's even possible.” You smiled, looking up at Gaster. “Makes me wonder how many of those fairground psychics and state route palm readers might actually have a little something extra to their fortune telling.”

He nodded. “In time, I have no doubt that we will discover more magically gifted humans of all types, and even more Mages. Monsters as a whole must prepare for that possibility.”  

You all fell silent then, watching as the vision faded and Narani slumped into Neal's waiting arms. The Queen stepped away to speak with some other onlookers. After some minutes of looking on while people began packing up supplies and cleaning the area, the Queen came over to the two of you again. “Your University office is closer than any of mine. Do you two care to wait for these results with me? The translators say that they suspect it to be guild code, and most of their ciphers have remained relatively unchanged over the centuries. As soon as they figure out whose it is and get senior guild permission for translation, they can present us with the results.”

He nodded, covering a yawn- it was amazing how the presence of royalty could speed up results, which was doubtless why she'd arrived. The three of you wandered out, catching a trolley that seemed to magically appear the second the Queen approached the corner (Gaster suspected that it very much was magic, actually), and got off at the University's main building. It was the first time you'd seen his office, and you quickly wandered off to poke around as he collapsed in a chair and pushed another out for Toriel. He dozed while the Queen played solitaire on his computer and you chatted softly with Sans on the phone, telling him what had transpired- he appeared in the office as well some twenty minutes later with a flour-dusted Papyrus in tow.

Gaster cracked an eye open as his youngest brother shooed you off a stool like he was chasing a cat, making you grumble.

“MY FEET HURT! I HAVE BEEN BAKING ALL DAY FOR THE GARDEN CLUB BAKE SALE, I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW!”

That made him snort; of course Papyrus was in a garden club. Bitching under your breath, you wandered over to Gaster, perching on his knee for lack of a comfortable other place to put yourself and chatting with the Queen about this and that. It was nearly six in the evening when a knock finally came at his door; Sans had stolen chairs from a few neighboring offices, and the sound interrupted a cut-throat game of old maid between you, the two Skeleton brothers, and the amused royal.

The runner, a Gull with bright white and grey feathers, brought the magically-sealed envelope in with wide eyes; Gaster frowned as he took it, handing it to Toriel. The seal was black wax, sprinkled with ebony wood flakes- a mark reserved for high priority guild business, to be kept absolutely secret from any but the recipient. 

Toriel waited for the runner to leave, then slid a nail under the seal to break it. Her silent glance from Gaster, to you, and back again was as clear as a question aloud.

‘Do you trust her enough to be here for something marked this way?’

His answer was an immediate, short nod. 

She unfolded the papers within, starting with a short note from the guild- Gaster recognized the spikey, thin handwriting of First Hand Screech, current head of the Stonecutter's guild. As he watched, her eyebrows shot up, then creased into a deep frown. “What in heavens name…” 

Something started irking his magic, twinging right at the edge of his connection to possibility and potential. Something dark and ugly. 

Papyrus hummed under his breath. “SHOULD I BE HERE FOR THIS, YOUR MAJESTY?”

Gaster, Sans, and Toriel all answered, “Yes” at the same moment, making you chuckle softly. You were sitting cross-legged in the seat of one of the emancipated rolling desk chairs, watching with interest- the odd one out in a room of Monsters who, each in their own way, were incredibly important to their society. “Should I be here?”

Gaster didn't even have to answer- Toriel cut you off nearly before your last word. “Doctor Gaster believes you should be, and I trust his judgment implicitly.” Sighing hugely, she sat the note face-down on the desk, then sat back, staring at the remaining papers in her hand. 

“is somethin’ wrong, tor?” Sans came over to stand at her side; the origin of the two's friendship was a mystery to Gaster, yet Toriel visibly calmed in the shorter man’s presence, turning to face him. Wordlessly, she handed the note to him, then unfolded the rest of the pages and began to read the translation aloud. 

“The end eternal will soon take me. My wife, mortal and good beyond my ungraceful words, hath enlightened me  that I may have the power to resist the spell for but a short time. It has taken all my strength and power to reach this place. I will die here when this work is through.

…

She is coming.

Her feet fall upon the Mountain. I feel her passage near me. Deep. Deeper, yet deeper. 

Dark. Darker, yet darker. 

…

I cannot reach their Majesties in the great city. I cannot escape the Catacombs. She is too near. And the sleeping death preys upon me like a serpent in the night. I pray the stars that they find these words someday, that they escaped her power.

Here do I inscribe this record from the lips of Ancestor Rainbow, last of Dragonkind. Here do I conceal their writing from her passing. 

…

She is coming.

I hear her fetid whispering.

…

Read now his voice.

Read now the truth of the War of the Mountain. 

Read now the betrayal of Q'orianka Illarni, Scarlet Mage. Discovered by Rainbow at the cost of his own immortal life, passed to me but hours ago, in his final moments.

Read now the source of her madness.

I, Jakarta Starsinger, First Hand of the Stoneworkers Guild, have spoken. And my word does not falter.”

Toriel fell quiet a moment, the hand that held the paper dropping slightly as the shock of what she'd just read set in to everyone. 

Not a single person in the room dared to say a word. Gaster scarcely breathed; he glanced over at Sans, who only gave him a tiny shake of the head in return- he was just as dumbstruck. Beside his younger brother, your eyes were wide and scared, holding Papyrus's hand in your own.

Finally, the Queen pulled her shoulders back, and nodded resolutely. 

“I will continue.”

Notes:

Finally getting to the fun part. No snoo snoo for Readerchan or Gaster, I'm afraid! They have foundation-shaking information to learn.

Find me on Tumblr @beewritesstuff for I post a lot of junk there related to my writing.

Chapter 18: ☆ Vignette Deuxième- Starsinger En Extremis

These words I give to you, First Hand of Stone, whose mind and memory does not falter. The Red Witch has destroyed my Soul, and my body will persist for only minutes longer. 

For millennia I have overseen the debates and discussions of The People and humanity, fostering peace and trade between us here at The Mother Mountain. In the past decades leading up to what I now know to have been the last great Summit, there were rumors. Whispers, easily ignored as they often are. 

The pain, Starsinger…gods, how it wracks me. Great Draco, give me strength, to hold this body but a moment longer. 

Now, looking back with the terrible gift of hindsight, I see the pattern of rumor and whisper alike, for in her insanity, she was losing her iron grip on her people, and stories spread faster than fire itself. A thousand hushed travelers spoke of children, all of them lost to mortality. Ten-thousand whispering merchants spoke of madness, of growing fissures gnawing the mind of the most powerful of The Seven. Her harem of mates, her gold-collared husbands, each considered a demigod in his own right by nearness to her…but as time passed, it began to be said, in hushed tones, that each was discarded as the child of their coupling was born mortal.

Husband…and child alike. Destroyed.

These were not our sins to arbitrate, and so The People turned away them. We ignored the whispers as they spread. We allowed her into our home.  

That was our mistake, Starsinger. We should not have turned away from rumors of the murder of children, punished for the crime of being born without Mageblood. Nor from the innocent blood of good men, chosen to serve their god-queen. For these terrible acts were signs of further madness to come.

As she ripped my soul from my body, as she passed me to descend further into our Mother Mountain, the witch spat on the ground at my feet. ‘This is the price you all now pay’ she said. ‘This is the cost of your refusal.’

She did not just mean my end, for I know you feel it emanating from far below us both; the curse of death, her final spell. Five of the Seven are above, casting their Souls into her spell to call us and bind us, to lure and ensnare. But she is below us, reaching out with limitless malice. None of us will escape. None of us can leave to warn those outside, to try to stop their bespelled march into their own dooms. The song of their curse calls our people from every home and abode, every villa and city. And she promised, as she passed me, that those who do not die here will die by iron. She has raised armies in her name.

Oh, it begins…how cold and cruel a sensation. 

Feet that once carried me across this beautiful world, dissolving into nothing. Claws that traced…so many priceless treasures…

Now…I return to the Mountain.

What disrespect…was paid, Starsinger? What did we refuse? In the face of…countless husbands…countless children…sacrificed upon an altar…of yearning for eternity…

What could our people have done…that was so much more severe…a sin…in her…eyes?

Go…leave me. Go to…your wife…be with her…in this ending.

I…feel her…in our Mountain…

Starsinger…

SHE…IS…LAUGHING…

...

I am Jakarta Starsinger. I have held my wife beloved, and wept as she enlightened me, to resist the death that spreads through our holy and ancient refuge for precious hours longer. I have taken the ancient pathways to reach this place before the Witch does, to seal myself in with these words. 

If there is hope... I cannot see it. With each step that draws nearer, her death curse calls me. Soon she shall pass this place.

I do not know why she invades our sacred home.

I do not know why she is killing us all. 

...

...

...

...I hear a new song...faint...and beautiful...

...A song...of sleep...

...Sleep?

I...I cannot...

...

I am too far gone...to sleep...

Forgive me, Pembery...

I loved you...so much. 

Notes:

"And when five of them had said their say, in came the uninvited seventh, burning to revenge herself, and without greeting or respect, she cried with a loud voice: "In the fifteenth year of her age the princess shall prick herself with a spindle and shall fall down dead." And without speaking one more word she turned away and left the hall.

Every one was terrified at her saying, when the sixth came forward, for she had not yet bestowed her gift, and though she could not do away with the evil prophecy, yet she could soften it, so she said: "The princess shall not die, but fall into a deep sleep for a hundred-hundred years."

And thus was the curse gentled."

Chapter 19: To see is to know

No one made a sound in the office, as Toriel sat the translated pages down and stared at them on the desk, as if they were something dark and ugly. It was so quiet that the soft electrical buzz of the overhead light seemed to get louder and louder with every passing second. 

Movement caught his eye; Gaster glanced over to see you pull your feet up off the ground, tucking them under your legs as you stared at the floor with your upper lip slightly curled. In a quieter moment he would have been fascinated, as he usually was, by that proto-simian expression on your face- one of so many interesting examples of humanity's animal ancestry that still lived in them. 

Now, it only made his own Monster instincts sharp and wary.

(Long before the two peoples were enemies, they were allies, and the ancestors knew the signs of human fear and disgust…they knew to look where their eye fell. A predator to one was a predator to all.)

Toriel shivered, a single, full-body puffing and settling of her fur. “Brehon Rainbow was…he was ancient. I always wondered…” She looked up, meeting Gaster's eye. “He tutored me on the harp and lute, would you believe it?”

“His Passing Could Explain The Longevity Of The Spell As Well. Multiple Great Mage Souls Were Needed For The Barrier Itself…But A Single Great Mage's Spell, Being Empowered By A Stolen Maegister's Soul…I Never Knew The Exchange Could Work In That Direction.” Gaster sighed deeply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Perhaps It Doesn't, And She Just Killed Him Because He Was Trying To Talk Reason Into Her. Damn It, I'm Lost In Supposition.” He stared past her for a moment, unseeing. “I Guess This Is Also The Closest Proof We Will Ever Get That The Blue Mage Of Legend Was Real. This Starsinger's Record Of Rainbow's Words Says He Could Sense Only Five Of The Great Mages Casting The Barrier, And Then The Mention Of A New Spell At The Very End…Stars Above. I Almost Wish We Hadn't Found This.”

“As do I. This will require careful, careful handling. We must ensure that control of the information is maintained.” Toriel stood. “Sans, if you would please fetch Undyne and his majesty? They are currently downtown at the high school.”

He shook his head. “i can get paps and i home, but the rest will be driving. i don't have many more jumps left in me today.” 

The only sign of her agitation was a slowly tapping claw, leaving a tiny visible divot in the fine wood of Gaster's desk. “Then a palace runner will be faster. I must go. All of you, this stays silent. No gossip. No rumors. I will say the same to any who touched the translation at the guild.” No one said a word as she left the office, the door closing with a *click* behind her. 

Papyrus stood easily, patting your hand as he sat it back in your lap. “WELL, WE CAN'T DO ANYTHING ELSE RIGHT NOW, AND I HAVE SIX DOZEN CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES AND TWO ANGEL CAKES STILL ON MY LIST. COME ALONG, BROTHER DEAREST. I DON'T THINK I WANT TO BE IN THE MOUNTAIN RIGHT NOW, AFTER ALL THAT.”

Sans nodded, looking toward his other brother. “you good to get back?”

“Sure. I Need To Think, In Any Case.”

He glanced over at you. “stay or go? i think i can do two side-alongs yet tonight.”

You were staring at the floor, frowning- when Gaster called your name, you jumped a little. “Sorry, what?” 

“I'm Sorry, Sans Was Asking If You'd Like To Be Taken Home? I’d Rather You Stayed, But I Understand If You’d- ”

Shaking your head, you stood with a stretch. “No thank you. I'll stay.” 

With a wave from the taller Skeleton and a single, “no prob, bye” from the shorter, Sans disapparated himself and Papyrus, leaving Gaster alone in his office with you. 

Letting his chair lean back, he stared at the ceiling. “That Was…Beyond Belief. Simultaneously Useful, And Yet Worthless Information.” 

You walked over and sat in the chair the Queen had occupied, taking a moment to blow a few strands of white fur off the leather. He turned to face you as you crossed your legs up on the seat again rather than let your feet rest on the floor. “Can I ask you something? Or are you pondering something important?” 

“I Am Pondering The Migraines That This Will All Cause. Ask Away, My Love.”

Despite the grim turn of the evening, there was excitement in your eyes. “Does that whole thing mean dragons are real?”

Inwardly, Gaster melted a bit- he'd noticed your fondness for collecting little statues of the beasts. “I'm So Sorry My Dear. They Were, Once. Brehon Rainbow Was The Last of His People By Several Centuries, And The Only One I Knew Of In My Lifetime.”

You deflated a little. “Oh. That's sad…I would have liked to meet one. Next question- what's ‘enlightenment’, used in the context of the stone carver and her human wife? Somehow I doubt it's the discovery of one's inner Buddha-nature and all.”

He sighed, closing his eye and using his foot to shift his chair back and forth slowly as he raised his hands. “Something that Monsters have gone to tremendous effort to conceal from humanity, now that we've had a thousand years for your memories to fade. Something that never needs to be known by the average human.”

Your voice was serious. “If I can't know, I understand. Thanks to proximity to you, I've already learned more things than I was ever supposed to.” You shook your head, changing the subject. “Can you imagine? Being so blasé about the value of life that you'd burn through slaves and babies like tinder, trying to find one who was the same as you? I guess it would affect any mother eventually, outliving all her children…but still, jesus christ. It's so morbid.”

“It's disgustingly morbid. And I'm afraid I was entirely isolated from such things on my mother's estate. Her work for Toriel's parents, the King and Queen of that time, as well as the breadth of my father's business, made the property function more like a small village of its own. We had no time or attention to spare for much else.” An ache was beginning to form behind his bad eye and around to the back of his neck . “Not to mention the sheer difficulty of even remembering back so far.” He tried to stretch his neck out without success, rubbing the back of his skull roughly to try to shake the headache away as it grew. 

Like magic it summoned you over, gently knocking his hand away and replacing it with your own far more experienced ones. “Such  fascinating texture. You know what you Skeletons remind me of? Aerogel. Rigid while also somehow incredibly light and flexible. The first couple times I saw Papyrus's arm bones bend I nearly threw up, I'm serious.”

He groaned softly as you slid your fingers down and under the base of his skull, lifting slightly to take the weight off his neck. “If You Could Just Do That Forever, I'd Appreciate It.” Giggling, you used your grip on his head to tilt it back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before returning to your ministrations. “Now…I Know You Are Careful With Information. But- And I Mean No Offense At All By Saying This, Please Believe Me- It Is Imperative, Of Deadly Consequence To My People, That You Never Tell Another Human What I'm About To Tell You.”

Your touch was gentle, rubbing circles around his temples. “I promise. Sincerely. But you don't have to tell me. I won't be offended, love.”

Gaster opened his eye, looking up into your face- yours were closed, busy feeling for tension with your fingers rather than looking. “Enlightenment Is An Old Term, A Newer One Doesn't Really Exist.” He bit his lip- what a cardinal sin he was committing, telling you this. But something in him said he should. “...A Monster Can Take A Human Soul Into Themselves, Becoming…. Unimaginably Powerful, Depending On The Strength Of The Monster And The Strength Of The Soul.”

You stayed quiet for a long while, your eyes opening to stare into his. Finally, all that left you was a quiet, “Oh…”

“First-Hand Jakarta Was Seemingly Married To A Human Wife. Per Her Record, That Human Willingly Gave Up Her Soul, So That Jakarta Would Have The Magical Power To Resist A Curse Being Cast By Six Great Mages At The Same Time, Presumably For Hours If She Traveled From The Old Capital, Or Even The City Outside The Mountain Entirely, To Waterfall, All On Foot. All To Leave A Record Where She Could Be Sure No One Would Find And Destroy It.”

Stroking the backs of your fingers down his cheeks gently, you stared down at him with something sad and grey in your eyes. “Did she…die? Would that kill her? I guess that's a stupid question…”

“You Don't Ask Stupid Questions. If Jakarta Died Before Returning Her Soul, Then…Yes. Her Wife Would Have Fallen Dead When Jakarta Did. Unless She Killed Herself First, Giving Up Her Soul Into Jakarta's Hands As She Died. Both Are Possible. It Has To Be Willing. Otherwise, The Soul Shatters Upon Its Human's Death.”

“But if she could return her Soul, then her wife wouldn't have died?” Your voice was very sad. He shrugged, wincing as you found a tender spot along his jaw. “I…I Don't Believe So, No. As Far As I Know, She Would Have Survived In That Scenario. Humans Can Survive Without Their Soul For A Surprisingly Long Time, As Long As It's Whole And Their Body Remains Unharmed.” 

Like a confession, his voice dropped even quieter than it's usual quiet tone. “That Was My First…Royal Project, You Could Say, All That Time Ago. Figuring Out How To Contain And Preserve A Human Soul Unwillingly Separated From It’s Body.”

He felt your nod. “The canisters. I remember you telling me.” After a few moments of silence, you leaned down again to kiss the top of his head. “So much death, so much destruction, all from one mad woman…but I still don't understand why the others listened? Why follow the ranting and raving of a crazy person, even if she is incredibly powerful? At most, say ‘oh yes ma'am’ and then run like hell as soon as she turns away from you. And they were ‘great’ mages themselves, weren't they?” There was a sneer in your voice on the word ‘great’. “Why not just gang up and put the bitch down? I'm sorry, but at a certain point, you can't just let someone run mad and destroy everything.”

"Because Of The Red Mage's Gift. The Nature Of Determination Magic." Gaster sighed. "In Its Rawest, Most Powerful Form, It Is The Reflection Of The Mage's Determination To Have A Specific Event Occur. To Pick A Point And Return To It, Again And Again, Until They Get Their Wish. Imagine The Torment That Could Be Inflicted On You? Who Would Ever Say No To Her Forever?"

“Oh…so…so kind of like Doctor Strange?”

When he blinked up at you, unsure what you were referring to, you pulled out your phone and showed him a scene from a super hero movie, one where the magician main character locked the enemy in an inescapable cycle. Once it finished, he arched a brow. “Well…I'll Be Fucked. Yes, Actually. That Is Pretty Much What Would Happen. The Red Mage Selects A Point In Time, And Returns To It Indefinitely Until Their Will Is Achieved. It Was Often Philosophized That The Universe Itself Forbids The Birth Of More Than One Of Them At A Time; The Risk To Existence Is Too High, Otherwise.”

“Like having two people working on a google doc at once. If they're both saving versions, whose version is the real one?” There was wonder in your voice. Gaster snorted mirthlessly. “You Have A True Gift For Putting Magical Concepts Into Mundane Terms, And I Do Not Mean That As An Insult At All. It's An Important Skill For An Educator, Especially One Meant To Bridge A Cultural Gap As You Are, To Have. You're Absolutely Correct.”

You went quiet for so long, your fingers stilling on his neck, that he glanced up at you; you were staring over his head, chewing on your lower lip. “God, that's terrifying. That's…that's torture. The worst torture I can imagine, because at least in the normal world, they can't do worse than kill you…but she could just make it happen all over again and again…” Looking down at him, he saw a haunted shadow flicker across your eyes. “How can something like that exist? That's…not a person. That's not a human. Were they all like that?” 

Part of him hated to see your fear…but the other half was glad to. Fear of such a terrible, nightmarish ability was an important gift. “...In Their Own Ways, Yes. I Knew The Green Mage A Bit Better Than The Red- He Regularly Came Through The Capitol, Buying Masses Of Supplies Through My Father In His Wanderings. His Mere Existence Was A Threat To Leadership, To The Building Of Civilizations And Cities. He Was Loved Everywhere He Went, And Despised When He Left.” 

“How? Why?” You settled on the desk before him, holding one of his hands as if to keep yourself safe. “God, do I even want to know?”

Gaster shrugged. “It's…Hard, Very Hard, To Explain. All Of Them Are. I Have Studied Determination For So Long, I Have The Best Understanding Of It…But…” Searching for the words, he smiled for just a moment as you laid your hand against his own, measuring the span of his fingers compared to yours. “His Very Presence Calmed Emotions, Sort Of…Fostered Community. Like A Drug, Following Him In The Air; People Gathered To Him, To The Peace And Camaraderie To Be Found With Each Other In His Wake.”

“But it was…all fake, I take it,” you murmured, and Gaster hid a shivering chill down his spine; sometimes the truth in your Soul frightened him. You should not have grasped and known these things so easily. “It Was And Was Not, Both At Once. Enemies Would Share A Meal, Not Caring, For Example, If One Had Murdered The Other's Kin, And That That Was The Source Of Their Original Animosity. Now Is Forgiveness Possible? Of Course…But The Forgiveness Wasn't Chosen. It Was Caused. Do You See The Difference? They Weren't Bewitched, Mindless And Hypnotized- They Would Still Be Completely Themselves.” He hesitated as disgust spread on your face, then continued. “That's An Important Thing To Specify. They Weren't Made Into Brainless Husks. But The Choice To Reconcile Was Made For Them, And They Couldn't Resist It. That's Just One Example Of His Power.” 

You were shaking your head in disbelief. “God help us…one of my teachers hypothesized that mages, greater and lesser, will begin being born again, now that Monsters and their magic are free in the world…countries would do anything to have one of them. To use them.” You laughed a little, but there was no smile on your face. “No human, no human , needs to exist like that. Better that they die than be able to do something like that. That's such a fucked up thing to say, I know it is. But… god.” 

You squeezed his hand. “Was the effect the same for Monsters and Humans?” 

Inwardly, he approved of your words; let the younger Monsters, who hadn't seen their works, preach about acceptance and cohabitation with future magically-gifted humans. Meanwhile, he agreed with you- as a whole, unless proven otherwise (like a certain young child had), great mages did not need to exist. “It Depended On The Type Of Mage And The Power Being Used- There's No Flat Answer. But We Are Uniquely Protected Regardless, In The, Well…In The Presence Of What You Know As A Boss Monster, A Maegister. Like A Positive And A Negative, A Maegister Neutralizes A Mage's Magical Effects On Any Surrounding Monsters, With Focus And Effort.”

The look you gave him then…it was indecipherable. A hard look, searching into and through him. But your voice was gentle when you reached out to cup the side of his face, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone. “Why don't you…why do you dislike that aspect of yourself? May I ask? I'm sorry, if it's too personal, I just…” Biting your lip, you gazed into his eyes, a spark of his-magic-made-yours glistening in the depths of your pupils. “You're such a wonderful man. I love you, so much.” Though the compliments weren't phrased as an explanation for your curiosity, you offered them like they were…and he understood, in a way. 

You loved him, and trusted him, and wanted to know why he rejected a part of himself that elevated him in such an old, old way, a way from long before crowns and kings. 

Now it was his turn to stare at the floor, unable to meet your eye- he could speak, or he could look at you, but he couldn't do both in that moment. “...Because, I Guess, I'm Afraid Of It.” When you stayed quiet, he went on, hesitantly. “Afraid Of What It Implies, Of What The Future Of It Holds…Of What I Will Become.” And then, terribly quietly and nervously, “...Of What You Will Become. What We Will Become. What I Have Done To You.”

In a question so out of left field that he didn't understand your words at first, you took a breath…then asked, suddenly, as if you'd just thought of it, “How old was your father?”

He blinked, and found he couldn't answer. He knew logically that the man had appeared to be a well-built human male in his late fifties…but he'd always appeared that way. Gaster couldn't remember a time when he hadn't looked exactly the same. 

“I…I Don't…” 

You smiled, terribly gently, when he couldn't find the answer, and asked for another. “Sans? Papyrus? Are they…the same as you?”

Wordless, unsure what you were getting at and reeling from yet another little epiphany you'd led him to, he nodded- they would be, someday. Sans was already growing into The Gift. You slid from the desk, leaning down and pulling his limp arms around yourself; the moment he felt your weight and warmth, he gathered you in like a blanket. 

“Then…then there's nothing to be scared of. Nothing to be worried about. You've managed so far…and we'll all manage together. For…as long as we need to.”

He took a deep breath of the smell of your skin…and nodded. There was so much to fear. So many complications, impossibilities, so many chances for terrible things to happen…and yet all of it, so easily dismissed by the logic of love. 

Family would care for each other. Lovers would care for each other. For as long as they needed to. Love was a labor and a gift, and as long as each of them worked, the load would be light. 

Even if that was…forever.

“Of course it would be you, trying to free your people,” you whispered, tilting your head back to whisper the words into his jaw as he held you and thought about everything and nothing at all. “Of course you'd be the one trying to fix it. They need you to. Maegister Monsters protect the people around them from mage spells…you're trying to protect your entire world from one.”

He sighed raggedly, feeling suddenly exhausted. “I Have To. Sans And I Have To.”

The two of you held each other in silence then, for long enough that he began to droop in his seat; your touch centered him like a lullabye. Then you took a breath. “I want to understand something about you, but I don't think I have the vocabulary to ask it clearly.”

“I'll Figure Out What You Mean.”

You wouldn't meet his eyes, and he realized with interest that you were blushing faintly. “So if Maegister Monsters exist in answer to mages…and great mages can do world destroying, cataclysmic things…love, I've seen you work magic plenty of times. I know, consciously, that you can basically see a hint of the future- no, don't argue, any normal person would see it that way -but…ah, fuck.” When you didn't go on, he arched a brow. 

“Continue?” 

You bit your lip, leaning back a little from where you stood hugging him. “Well, I just…shit, I don't know how to ask this without sounding rude, and I don't mean it rudely at all. You know what, forget it.” 

“Absolutely Not, Now I Have To Know. I Love Being Rude, Haven't You Noticed?” 

Rolling your eyes, you tapped him gently on the nose. “Ass. Alright, well…I mean…” You gestured, as if trying to pull the words from the aether. “So…great mages are terrifying and scary and reality bending.”

“Correct.” This was fun, he liked seeing this rare moment of you cutely off balance and floundering. Not because he wished to be cruel or mocking, no; it just felt good to know that, once in a blue moon, you felt the way he did almost every second with you. 

“And Maegister Monsters sort of evolved to combat that.”

“In Theory, Yup.” 

“What could you possibly do against someone like her? Or the King, or the Queen? Goddammit this sounds so rude, I don't know how else to ask; what brings you to that same level? You're so gifted, but…I don't see how anything I know about your magic would…would…”

---

For a moment the man stayed completely silent, staring at you with an unreadable expression, and you began to really worry that you'd sincerely hurt his feelings. 

“Please know, I don't mind the question in any presumptive way I swear , I just…I want to understand you.” There was a touch of panic in your voice, you couldn't help it- you'd never had more than a gentle argument with your partner. “I want to understand how you…how it…I want to understand magic.”

“You Want To Understand Magic?” His voice was soft. As he spoke, you realized that his eye was fading, from fluorescent white to that beautiful, fey ultraviolet that you'd seen only once or twice before. 

“I…I do, yes, I'm sorry-”

“Stop Apologizing.” He stood, towering over you, and turned you in his arms. “You Want To Understand Magic… My Magic.” It wasn't a question this time. Somehow the room suddenly felt strange. Charged, as if you were standing outside in a lightning storm. You nodded, shivering for a moment as he pressed up against your back.

He chuckled for a moment, and you could feel him shake his head above you. He slid his hands up your arms, your shoulders, your neck; it made you take a breath, suddenly terribly distracted by the change in the man behind you. Gone was the stubborn, well-leashed academic. 

For the first time since getting together, Gaster wanted to show off to you. 

“Then See And Understand, Little Benefactori. Not Every Maegister Was Built For War.” As he spoke, his long fingers came to rest softly over your eyes as you closed them. “I Was Made…

…To Learn.” 

He lifted his hands, as something in your chest shifted. A three dimensional step that you hadn't known was possible.

“Open Your Eyes.” 

Notes:

Learning the past, learning the present...who can say what comes next?

Find me on tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 20: Accidents

“Open Your Eyes.”

You did, and it was like seeing in stereo; his vision overlaid with yours, a fascinating dichotomy of colors and angles that was ever so slightly different from what either of you usually saw. And through everything, the violet lines of potential, the threads of fate that bound all things and peoples together, raced and ran in infinite detail. Look at one tiny area and you'd find countless touches of creation, layers of interaction and influence, some stronger and some barely visible. The knowledge was Gnostic. Self-originated. He was your frame of reference, and so you understood, despite the experience being fantastical and bizarre. 

“All Things Are Connected.” His voice was soft, metered, like he was reciting a prayer or a memorized verse. “All Things Are Infinite Expressions Of The One, Divided And Split. The Loom Of Creation, The Threads Of Life. The First Law Of Power.” 

It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It was the feeling of his magic, the essence of his power, distilled and real and visible all around you- a terribly inept description, but you could think of none better. Gaster's magic literally felt like potential, the excited flutter in the belly of possibility and the glimmer of success on the horizon, and that feeling had condensed and crystallized into tangible cords of reality that crossed and overlapped each other everywhere you looked. 

The excitement and warmth of spring. The smell of a fine hotel room on a long-awaited vacation. The sound of family and friends you haven't seen in a long time.

You reached out, then hesitated, your hand outstretched- Gaster squeezed your shoulders, his voice warm. “Go Ahead.” Gingerly, you touched a fingertip to one gossamer thread, dim and thin, that stretched from the granite statue of a coiled snake on his desk and disappeared through the far wall. It buzzed under your touch, and for just a moment, a thought passed into your mind; a Monster made of vines and greenery, wearing a thick apron as they bent over a bench, their many-fingered hands delicate as they grew tiny tendrils of vines into stone and splintered it off in perfect curves. An organic method of carving and shaping without tools. The image stayed with you for a moment, as clear as if you'd just looked at a picture of it, then faded away as you lifted your hand away from the thread that created it. It left behind the knowledge of the maker's name, a sense of his magic, and even the very location where the stone was first mined AND an awareness of the workshop that you thought, given time to wander, you could follow right to the front door. Other information came into your mind too, sensations and realizations that you couldn't place, not having the magical acumen or background to use them.

For a moment, you could say nothing. Then, grinning despite the weight of the day, you turned in his hold to face him. “God in heaven, you must have been a demon to have in school.”

His answering smirk was full of good-natured rottenness as he raised his hands to answer you; his throat was shot after so much talking. “Oh you have no idea. As I grew into the gift, my teachers had to get strangers to give my exams, with a new stylus at a new desk, or else I could pull information from all of those things.” The grace of his hands drew your eye to the cord of power between his left hand and your right, so thick it nearly looked braided compared to the relatively delicate looking strings all around you. He saw your gaze, and his eyes softened. “Ah, well…that's…”

He didn't have to say it- you'd known the man before you was a dedicated and loyal one. Smiling, you stepped into him, wrapping your arms around his chest. “It seems terribly overwhelming,” you murmured into his chest; he chuckled, the sound rough but warm under your ear. “But I suppose you're used to it.” 

In answer, he squeezed you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The two of your stood that way, enjoying each other's embrace, until a chime sounded urgently from above his office door. Frowning, he stepped away from you and opened it on a veritable mountain of paperwork floating atop some magically-automated cart. As he floated it over with a sour look, a glance told you everything you needed to know. All of it related to his position with the university; some packets demanding his signatures and finalization, some his review and annotation, all for the extension of the university above ground that had been planned for the past year. All the envelopes were stamped two or three times, showing, he explained sourly, that the messenger had made several efforts to deliver them in person before finally leaving them with a crown seal pinned to the front for urgency; someone amongst the grand high pooh-bahs of bureaucracy, seemingly, wanted it all done immediately despite the madness of the day. 

Gaster sighed with annoyance. “I'm Sorry, My Dear. Give Me Half An Hour.” You nodded, glancing at the clock on the wall; it was getting late.

“Of course, not a problem love.” A few minutes passed as you poked around here and there, before a thought occurred to you. “Is there anything I could do to hel-”

A loud knock interrupted you; another distraction at the door. “Doctor Gaster? Are you in, sir?!”

He shot a glare at the speaker outside, and you rolled your eyes- could today get any more maddening?

“Sir! I'm sorry, but-”

“What?!” A winter lake held more warmth than his voice as Gaster stood.

“Ah, I'm very sorry, sir!” The messenger sounded frantically excited through the door now that they knew for sure he was present. “But, see, Doctor Alphys has been looking everywhere for you, and said you weren't answering your phone! She sends a message through royal couriers with royal priority - ‘Immediately need your assistance- resistance at D-level causing severe structural damage’, I've been from here to Waterfall and back trying to find you!” 

Your eyes went wide. ‘D’ level could only mean one thing…the cursed, ugly laboratory that Gaster and his team had done their worst experiments in. The place he hated going more than anywhere else in the world.

---

Internally he swore- of course the day had to have some nasty little sprinkling of more stress on it. The D-lab had been more and more unstable on a magical level lately, doubtless thanks to the extractor; it didn't like recycling Determination. Its very programming and design made it crave new sources of that incredibly valuable human essence, and it had been forced to deal with the same six sources for decades. 

He stalked over to the door, yanking it open- the Ram outside nearly fell in. “Thank You. Your Message Has Been Received.” He tried for cold politeness at least- this wasn't the other man's fault. “You May Go.”

His annoyance heightened even further when ANOTHER message, this one fluttering as an enchanted paper bird, came not seconds after the man left- an alert that the building was to be magically purged in the next few hours, some cave-dwelling pest or another having invaded the pantries. Sweeps would be done to ensure no one remained inside…which meant your options were to either stand outside and wait for an Uber (rare at this time under the Mountain, and the trolley stopped at ten)...or ride along with him. It felt like weeks ago since you'd stepped off the trolley to meet him in Waterfall, yet it had only been around noon that same day…good god, how had so much happened in such a short time? A sudden burst of inspiration had him call Papyrus, but after being sent to voicemail three times, he gave up.

Sighing hugely, he turned to you as you watched him, leafing through a book as you waited. “I suppose we are going somewhere else yet tonight, unless you prefer to wait here for a ride?” He handed you the message that had arrived and you grimaced. “Christ. No, I've had to do it before. They still don't let Monsters drive with Uber, and it takes an hour or more to get someone down here this late. I guess I'll just come along and entertain myself. Thank god I charged my phone.” He watched as you unplugged the adapter and the cord that you'd plugged in at some point behind his desk, bemused that you'd even had it. It was yet another reminder of just how much time you'd spent in his native home, how used to being here you were yourself. “Alright. What's one more catastrophe today, right?”

He shook his head in irritated agreement, feeling prickly and uncomfortable all of a sudden but not sure why. His magic was itching him at the edges of his consciousness, a slight warning in it, but of what? The day had left him tired and wan; he didn't have the energy or motivation to parse out his instincts. Doubtless it was some fresh new pain in the ass to deal with at the D Lab.

On the drive over, he checked his phone- silenced since the meeting with Toriel. Sure enough, he’d missed a dozen phone calls and texts, though one made him take a breath of relief.

Sans- ‘i'm here. about to pass the fuck out, but i’m here. toddle on over when u get the chance.

Thank the gods. If Sans and Alphys were both there, then he was barely even needed. The only real purpose of his presence then was as a safety device in a bad situation- he could usually tell if something terrible was about to immediately happen, warning everyone off their course of action or just throwing up a significantly powerful shield. 

“We are little more than walls that think and walk,” his mother has once wryly said. “Good only to take the damage our people cannot.”

When he parked after some perhaps less-than-safe speeding into Hotland, he turned to you, putting as much deadly seriousness in his sign as he could. The volcanic surroundings reflected warmly off your skin through the car windows as you gazed up at him. “The engine will overheat if you stay in here with it running, and you will overheat if it's turned off. Please, for the love of the stars, do not leave the lobby of this building. I wouldn't say this if it wasn't true; this place is absolutely deadly to humans. I would know- I built it that way.”

You nodded, your face solemn. “I understand…best behavior. I won't even leave my seat.” 

“Thank you.” A deep breath. “I am terrified to have you in here.” 

You stayed close under his arm as he led you in- the ‘surface’ level lab had been converted back to a lobby area, work rooms, small cafeteria, and research library after Alphys had moved to the surface with Undyne some years ago. Not that it had ever stopped being those things, but the veneer of odd human media and Alphys-junk was removed. At the back of a research room, where a guard sat in plain clothes and read nonchalantly at a table, that hateful, unmarked silver door glimmered. Waiting for him. 

“Alright. Feel free to go through whatever here that you'd like. I’ll hurry as quickly as I can, I have a feeling the catastrophe is already being managed.” He pointed to the guard as the bulldoggish man glanced up. “This is Caesar, he doesn't talk much, usually. The woman at the front desk is Moth, and she's very nice. If you're hungry, you can order from the cafeteria, they usually have a selection of human and Monster menus.”

You nodded, your face serious. “Good luck my dear. I'll be up here, having a sandwich or something and bored out of my mind.”

Stepping away from you was painful- who would ever leave the warm embrace of a woman who loved him for the nightmares that lurked below? Even the sound of the ride down was nightmarish; the entire facility above was a cover for the true facility below, and he hated every time he had to go down into it. Even with all its agricultural stresses and fears, he loved his surface research centers so much more. The open windows, the white spaces. No ugly memories of past mistakes and present anxieties.

Alphys met him in the main hall as he stepped out, irritation in her face. She was dressed in a lovely gown, chewing on something or another as she signed, “Damn new idiots did a coolant purge without checking all the valves, so they get to clean up the mess above us. I got the pressure alert halfway into the restaurant with Undyne.” 

He rolled his eyes, walking quickly beside her- she handed him a piece of her cookie. “This New Batch Is Pitiful.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded painfully hoarse after such a long day. “I Am Genuinely Considering Sending Them Back To The University For Remedials In Safety And Procedures.”

She popped in another bite. “You should. They're exhausting to work with, half our time is spent babysitting. I think Langely is getting soft on them, she used to turn out some of the best engineers.”

He smirked. “Like You?” 

“Obviously.” 

(The woman at the front desk, a monster seemingly made of silk scarves eternally twisting and bending over each other, was very friendly, and the grilled mushroom dish you got at the cafeteria was genuinely delicious… but you couldn't ignore the odd whispers that you kept catching, just on the edge of your hearing. Whatever it was, it sounded fascinating. So eerie and irresistible. Surely it wouldn't hurt to look around a little, if you stuck to the main areas? There had been such wonders in the annex laboratory that you'd rushed by with Sans, the day you'd helped find Curtis at his farm…what wonders could be here?

You'd be careful, of course...

No…no, Gaster had been very clear. This place was fundamentally unsafe, there were twisted things here. The part of the building you were in now was a veneer for the truth below, he'd explained that on the long drive over. You needed to stay where you were. Probably best not to leave the cafeteria at all, where you could see the lobby through the large double doors behind you. The guard Dog Caesar had come in a few minutes ago and gotten a large bowl of soup, eating it as he read his book on the far side of the room.

After a few minutes of relative quiet the receptionist took an incoming phone call, then smiled at you, waving across the two rooms as she stepped away for a moment. It was an interesting trick to perform with her body composition. And as she did, you heard it again. Interesting, yet somehow irritating now. Like an IV pump that no one was checking, or a bed alarm that had never been reset. Something that required attention, irresistible and urgent, necessary for you to check …

…

…something that you should go to.

The fork fell quietly from your fingers.)

Gaster shook his head, leaning back with a sigh where he knelt beside Alphys, both of them peering at the repaired piece of thick tubing that had split open. It had taken them half an hour to find the leak on this level that was throwing an alarm, and another to isolate it. The position made his hip ache. “Honestly, I think it was just random bad luck. Should it have been able to hold up to a blocked purge like that? Sure. But even the strongest enchantments can't stand up to stresses forever. I'm glad that you caught it, Alphys. Damn good work.”

She smiled at him briefly, then cocked her head. “...d-do you hear th-that?”

Frowning, he listened…nothing. “No…What?”

“Weird. I’d s-s-swear the Extractor engines just kicked on.”

He hummed, only half-listening as he pondered the repaired conduit before them both…and then threw himself to his feet at the same time she did, a terrible realization coming to the two of them at the same moment. The few other Monsters there around them scrambled back, startled and confused, as they both began to yell your name, racing out the doors and through the halls.

(It was the strangest sensation. It almost felt like you were weightless, like your feet and legs were numb beneath you. You could see them moving, if you looked down. You could see yourself walking…but it didn't feel like anything at all. Just light, airy, effortless movement forward. But where? When did you get up from your chair in the cafeteria? Your ears ached; the elevator had dropped much quicker than was safe for a human, but you didn't have the presence of mind to work your jaw and equalize them….

…Elevator?

Distantly, the back of your hand hurt… yes, that's right. You'd knocked your cup of coffee over onto it as you stood suddenly, someone would have to clean that up…you hoped it wasn't the guard Dog, he had looked so peaceful in the back corner of the cafeteria, his feet propped up on a chair and his head tilted back against the wall as he'd snoozed…

IT DOESN'T MATTER.

You frowned, slowing for a moment; had you thought that? Somehow, it didn't sound like your own voice inside your mind. You didn't like that, it wasn't right… nothing should be speaking in your head without…

HUSH. COME.

…)

Gaster and Alphys tripped over each other, so quickly did they sprint through the building. He bent all of his magic on their path, a series of bizarre little bad luck accidents preceding them and stopping anyone who would step in their way. Sam tripped over a rivet in the floor that had oddly come loose. Dr. Loom squawked as a printer blew the end out of a cartridge of ink, spraying her shirt as she tried to pass it. Méy went tumbling as the heel of her shoe snapped under her, falling out of his path. 

The effects of a desperate Maegister Monster using every drop of his probability-twisting power freely.

Alphys yelled a Code White into the facility phone on her waist- total security lock down, immediate sweeps of every room. An unwitting human victim might have stumbled where they shouldn't have, and the consequences would be disastrous. Gaster took the steps three at a time when he reached them, bounding down flight after flight and leaving her behind, then racing down the hall at the bottom. The hall that culminated in a single set of large double doors. 

(Walls that transitioned from boring white plaster to dull, grey steel. It was warm, so warm… just the drive over from the Capital had gotten terribly warm, the car air conditioning struggling to compete with the hot air outside. Occasionally you passed under air vents as you walked forward in your daze, the momentary blast of cold like a shock of water to your face… but each time you started to wonder just what was happening here, the persistence driving you forward grew. As calm and irresistible as a drug, letting all those little concerns fade to the background. 

You could worry about such things later. For now, you were needed. You had to hurry.

…

Don't mind the drop.

…

STEP FORWARD. )

...

...

...

It was a scene from a nightmare- you, listless and vacant a hundred yards away from him, highlighted by dull red light as the room's machinery whirred to life. Gaster felt sluggish, unable to move fast enough as he burst through the doors; he saw his own hand outstretched, reaching as his magic exploded outward, a thousand hands forming to streak toward you- too slow, too slow!

From the ‘mouth’ of the huge Extractor machine, a single, delicate arm sprang forth gracefully like the spindle of the dark fairy's curse, the mithril needle glinting unnaturally in the low light of the room. Creating the whole of it had been a fever dream, a nightmare of weeks that had culminated, after so many dark experiments, with Gaster's death.

Now, it might cost him everything a second time, and far more horribly than before.

Determination had seeped into the steel, had corroded the copper and warped the fittings. Each Soul had bled its power into the extractor unwillingly, and each little life had gifted some terrible tiny shard of…of awareness, of perverse half-life into it. And now all of that un-power, all of that dreadful machine intelligence, was focused and directed to its singular purpose; puncturing and draining the Determination out of the perfect, finally-living source before it. 

You were entranced, ensnared by the capture programs enchanted into the machine; even at this distance, as Gaster felt a roar of horror and terror ripping through his throat while he screamed your name, even as his magic streaked across the huge, empty room, he could see your pupils were so blown that they eclipsed your entire eye. You were blind and deaf to anything but the lullaby lure of the huge apparatus before you. Lifting a hand as if caught in a dream, your brow cocked in terrible, inescapable intrigue, you reached toward it. Princess Aurora, enchanted and betrayed, extending a finger to prick upon a spinning wheel…

…and die…

…

Blue magic slammed into your body gracelessly while Gaster watched, coating your Soul and ripping the weight from your atoms faster than the eye could blink. Startled out of the Extractor's lure protocol by the unimaginable sensation, you gasped, stumbling back as the two foot needle before you lunged forward, aimed directly at the center of your chest-

-and missed.

Sans, glitching into existence at the back of the room like a bad TV screen, used his grip on your Soul to bodily yank you a solid one hundred feet backwards across empty space. You collided with him, bowling both of you into the safety railing behind his hips as he yelled something, scrambled back to his knees, and yanked the neckline of your shirt down heedlessly, checking to make sure your skin was unblemished as you clutched at his wrists and whipped your head back and forth wildly, plainly fighting the delirium of the Extractor's enchantments. 

Gaster, gripping the railing before him, let out a low, horrified sound, his face and hands so numb that he scratched furrows down the side of his cheek as he reached up to clutch it for a moment in pure, horrified relief. Never did he think the machine would react in such a way to a living human being nearby, not until this very moment when all his disparate knowledge about its oddities and quirks had clicked into a horrible realization. 

In some terrible, dead, broken way…it was alive.

It was aware.  

And that could. not. be.

Let his Soul be damned, if need be…he would trade the potential freedom of his entire race, the possible future of his entire people, for you. If this sickening machine held the secret to freedom, then damn the outside of the cage. A thousand-thousand times over. For you, and any other innocent human who would be brought before it. Even now, emotionless and cold as only steel could be, he could feel its psychic request without so much as a hand on the control panel. To bring the sample back before it. To allow it to finish its purpose. Clean, efficient extraction.

It had to be destroyed. 

Sans steadied you and himself, calling to Gaster across the huge room while Alphys burst in behind him; he ignored them both. Striding forward, he redirected his magic, the countless ultraviolet hands curving in the air, their mission altered by their master. No longer aimed to save, not guided to clutch and pull away…but to separate, and rip, and wrench, making a gap, a portal-

(Into the code, into the assets. Into the layers, the fabric of creation. Electrons transmitting, photons creating. Light and sound, communicating, forming numbers and patterns, ones and zeroes.)

(Ons and offs.)

(ON.)

The blaster whined with potential in its intangible throat as he punched a hole through reality and summoned it forth. Deceptively delicate in its form and alien in its nature; its loyalty, won to his command long ago, was unquestionable. Behind him, the sound Alphys made struck him like a blade, so full of fear was it. Even his own brother hissed a breath through his teeth.

Bone, if it could be called that, shaped from nothingness and emptiness, given form with magic. A will of granite, found during younger years of exploration into higher spheres of power. A theurgy of the self, appealing to the gifts within and directing them to places unknown. 

Leviathan. 

Langolier. 

He pointed, casting his arm out; the blaster turned to its Master’s command, floating between the hateful, evil machine and his family like a chained guardian demon. Violet power tinged with gold built behind its teeth as he channeled all his rage, all his sorrow, all his fear and anguish that he was back in this hateful place…and released it. 

Let. It. End.

The light was so bright that everyone else cried out, Alphys ducking while you and Sans shielded your eyes in each other’s bodies, as pure energy screamed out of the blaster’s gaping maw, streaking across the empty space and obliterating the Extractor in an instant. A century of research, destroyed. Two decades of work, vaporized.

The destruction traveled up the wires and coolant tubes until it reached the ceiling and walls, then faded. The most perfect, controlled, and totalitarian demolition that had ever been, leaving behind nothing but hissing gasses and distantly blaring alarms.

It said something for Gaster's mental state, he realized blandly, that the portal he'd opened to that other place was far, far larger than he'd intended. Its initial task complete, the blaster carefully stepped the rest of the way into reality on delicate umbral paws, four-legged and colossal as it stretched, arching its back. Then it sat in empty air, and growled at the space where the Extractor had been.

The room was as silent as a grave, save for the soft noise of threat that the creature continued to rumble in its chest, the dripping hiss of now-severed lubricant tubing and coolant, and the panting breaths of his friend, brother, and lover, as the three of you stared at the scene with wide eyes. Everywhere, floating purple embers slowly dissipated- the remainders of a huge, priceless piece of technology.

Sans spoke first, his voice cracking. “th-they have a body?”

“...Yes.” Gaster was shaking so hard that he swayed on his feet, the terror and panic catching up all at once. 

“...didn't know that.”

When Gaster looked to you, terrified beyond reason that you'd somehow still been injured, still had the life-force of your humanity drained, the Blaster did too, cocking its immense head. You were blinking, scrubbing your hands over your face and breathing hard as you stared at the beast. When you cocked your head, it mimicked you, then tilted its own back the other way when you did the same. Sans made some strangled sound of morbid fascination, struggling to his feet and pulling you up with him. Finally you turned, making eye-contact with Gaster…and your voice rose into a hysterical shriek.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

 

Notes:

I was high as giraffe nuts the first time i played undertale, and the extractor room scared me SO bad. Idk why.

(We're baaaack baby ;) Lets get that plot moving!)

Find me on tumblr @beewritesstuff

Chapter 21: Play Therapy

Notes:

A gentle reminder of the rating of this fic ;) Since it's been a while and all.

The retreat from the extractor room was disorganized at best; Sans was leaning on Alphys, panting with the effort of what he'd just done after using so much magic earlier that day, while the two of them tried to explain to you what had happened. Physically you seemed fine, if a bit dazed, and stepped forward after a few moments to take Sans’ other arm in your own.

Gaster brought up the rear practically walking backwards, lost in barely-suppressed panic that sat in his Soul like lead. He'd almost lost you, you were almost gone, good fucking god, god GOD, help him please, he…he…

No, stop. He needed to focus- the damn blaster wouldn't ‘go back’, no matter how many times he completed the runesigns that should return the fucking thing to the aetheric realm. It trotted along easily, gazing at you over his shoulder and lifting its head slightly every time you glanced back at it in terrified confusion. Perhaps summoning it in its totality had given it unforeseen stability of form…

(Or perhaps, deep, deep down in his heart, he didn't trust himself to be able to protect you anymore. Perhaps he wanted something there to do it for him, since he had failed.)

The four of you stumbled into a large meeting room; Sans tried to lock the doors before the blaster could get in, but the thing only gracefully took hold of one handle in its teeth, pulled backwards with a loud, metallic tearing sound, and delicately deposited the now loose door to the side before squirming through the too-low entry. His brother shot a haggard look at him, and he threw up his hands in frustration; what the fuck did Sans want him to do? He couldn't get rid of it! 

Thankfully, it still seemed to be following the initial, silent order that had summoned it- the beast approached you in the chair that you'd fallen into, turned around three times, then settled onto the linoleum with a terrible clatter of bones like a guard dog from nightmares. Your eyes were as wide as Gaster had ever seen them as you pulled your toes back, trying to make more space between yourself and the construct.

For a few moments, nobody spoke. Then, Alphys wordlessly went to the coffee machine on one side of the room and began brewing a pot, flinching at the over-loud beep of the power button. She'd dismissed every single employee on site via walky-talky on their way out of the gods cursed room, and the facility was as silent as the grave. Apparently, no one wanted to stay after the earlier roaring explosion had echoed through the entire building. 

Gaster tried one final time, weariness tugging at his Soul as he wasted magic again and again- he pushed his hands forward, casting the runes that should dismiss his summon. The blaster lifted its head, turned, and narrowed its eyes at him. Confused beyond belief, he tried adding a mental, ‘Please?’ to the spell. After a moment it yawned silently, or at least very much appeared to, and turned back to its singular focus on you. 

“i've never seen anything like this in my life.” Sans accepted the shitty foam cup of black coffee that Alphys handed him with a shaky smile, then used his toe to spin his chair toward Gaster. He was leaning against the table hardly able to look at you, so gnawing was the guilt; his brother was a good excuse to turn away. “alright, so…holy fuck. that was a catastrophe waiting to happen, and all of us should have seen it coming.”

“We…We Really Should Have… I Should Have.” He couldn't stop his knee from bouncing, couldn't help but rub his fingertips back and forth, back and forth, the motion starting to ache as he pressed bone on bone too hard. Alphys sat a steaming cup of coffee down beside his hand; he swallowed a few gulps down quickly, the sharp, bitter burn of it feeling like a deserved punishment. “This Was My Fault, Good God, I…I Don't Even Know What To Say.”

“no, i mean…shit, you know that isn’t true. honestly we all should have- hey, what the fuck, get away from that!”

Gaster turned to look where Sans did, and nearly choked on his shitty coffee as he took another boiling-hot drink; the blaster had slunk up to you, its belly low to the ground, and now was pressing the tip of its ‘nose' under your trembling, outstretched hand.

“i mean it! get away from that thing, for god's sake don't pet it, christ-”

The expression in your face was fading from fearful to hesitantly bemused as, carefully, you touched a single fingertip to the thing's snout. “Oh, I don't know…it doesn't seem too bad.”

Bizarrely, Gaster agreed with you; his magical creation, his daemon of pure, destructive force given body and mind…had made itself as small as possible before you, it's ten feet at-the-shoulder height crouched down so its belly was flat against the floor as it slowly squirmed closer. He'd seldom summoned them in their entirety before, and never long enough to interact with the things…

“I kind of like it. It's like…a dragon, sort of. But no tail, you should have a tail.” You addressed the comment to the creature as it stared up at you with what Gaster might describe as fascination in its eerie eyes. 

“i’m gonna fuckin’ pass out.” Sans collapsed back in his chair, watching with exhaustion as you began patting your hand gingerly across the blaster’s horns and brow ridge. “you cannot be serious, that…that is- you…”

Heedless of what you were touching, you reached down and scratched the construct under the chin, a grin spreading across your lips as it tilted its head up and ‘closed’ its eyes, cat-like. “Perfectly friendly.”

“it is a gun . a weapon. you are petting a weapon.” 

You sniffed at him primly, using both hands to scratch under the huge head before you. “A cute one. You know-” you addressed this now to the blaster, which, in Gaster’s opinion, looked about ready to roll over on its back and show its belly “-today really has been an exhausting day. I feel like it's been a week since we first got into that damn soggy room this morning. But you're a rather handsome fellow, aren't you? Look how big you are!”

“she's deranged, something happened to her with the extractor after all.” Sans looked at his brother plaintively as you began running your hands up over the construct's back. “get rid of that thing before it kills your girlfriend, come on man, you're just…standing there??”

Alphys gave an ungodly snort of a laugh as the blaster began to twine around your body, spinning you in slow circles on your wheeled chair, gazing up at you with acid-yellow and violet eyes and heedless of the insults being directed toward it. When Sans gave her an unmistakable ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ look, she shrugged. “I m-mean… t-t-technically they're energy c-constructs, right? Why w-would a part of G-Gaster’s own Soul try t-to hurt her?” She paused for a moment as a tiny smirk of realization flickered across her face. “If anything…I th-think this is j-just what he wants t-to do with her, except w-we’re here.”

Gaster rolled his eyes as his brother pretended to gag in answer…but, if he was an honest man…he'd probably have to admit that Alphys was right. He realized with more than a little embarrassment that he'd never really bothered to understand the blasters. He'd assumed that they were simply an expression of his own magic, the destructive force of it, and that was that- the result of an ancient ritual he'd found and stupidly attempted long ago, then taught to his brother on a night of drunken shenanigans. But of course, nothing in magic was so simple. Anything made from the Soul, given purpose and intention, had life. With an eerie, hollow whine of happiness, the construct flopped over on its side, its shoulder as tall as your seated head…and even Sans had to smile at that for a second, though he quickly wiped his expression clean.

“So, while I entertain this big boy, can you tell me why the fuck all of you are staring at me like I’m dead?” The blaster used its snout to tuck you into its shoulder protectively while you looked around the room, the chair’s wheels squealing. “Yes, thank you, protect me from these crazy Monsters making nightmare machines.” If it'd had lashes to bat up at you, it would have. “Alphys, I know you tried to explain, but it didn't make a lick of sense. All I remember is walking in the front door and talking to the lady in the lobby…and then hitting Sans on a catwalk a fucking thousand feet in the air- what the hell was that place, a mining borehole? Then a huge flash of purple light…and everything else is…disjointed. Like a dream.”

Alphys nodded wearily. “A s-sinkhole, actually. And, um…nothing g-good. The machine in there is… was… m-meant to extract human d-determination from human S-S-Souls, the most powerful m-magical force that exists. It c-called you, like hypnotism kind of, it's d-designed to, and tried t-to…extract from yours. N-now it's gone.”

You blinked, frowning… then looked at Gaster with something very sad in your eyes. “That's right, I remember… you told me about it. The machine…that it was what…” And then you trailed off, glancing quickly at the others in the room as color rose in your cheeks. 

He sighed, but to his surprise, the other woman took a breath before he could find an answer. “It hurt him. I was new, b-b-barely more than an intern under h-him, and all of us watched him d-d-disappear into that chamber everyday for weeks…c-coming out l-looking worse each t-t-time he l-left.” She turned to him as she raised her hands, her expression haunted, giving up on speech as emotion made her stutter worse. “It was horrible. I know folks would say this is impossible, but I swear when I went in there afterwards, all that time that you were…gone…I swear I remembered that someone was missing. Only felt that way in there, but I couldn't figure out who or what was causing it. I started avoiding it because it drove me crazy.”

“I'm…I'm Sorry, Alph.” He was sorry. They'd been closer, once. Better friends, despite the darkness and weight that had clung to him more and more as they and Sans had launched the Determination project. Yet since his return, he'd felt a distance between them that he didn't know how to cross. Guilt. An unhappy shared history. And that had added even further to the darkness and anxiety that lurked in his heart. 

“I am too. I…missed you, lately. I’ve learned a lot from you over the years. You've never once made fun of how I talked. Never treated me like I was stupid.”  

They stared at each other from across the room, unsure what to say…until a high pitched, tooth-aching trill, like an undulating dentist's drill, made everyone turn toward you as you grimaced guiltily. The noise came from the blaster, a nightmare version of what might have been, in some circle of hell, a purr. “Sorry, sorry…didn't mean to interrupt, he just, um…he just likes it.” You were scratching the inside of the thing's scapula, making a godawful noise like nails on a chalkboard as it arched its head sideways into your belly. 

“christ. alright, i've seen enough. i’m leaving, you two psychopaths enjoy your demon. take me home before I die on the spot, doc.” 

Alphys snorted. “Can't t-take yourself?”

“nope. i was tapped hours ago. now after this shit? y'all will be lucky to see me for a week.”

She glanced over at Gaster. “What are we doing, now th-that…?”

“I Don't Know. Take A Week Off, At Least. A Real Week, For Everyone Except Engineering And Rapid Response, God Knows What Damage I Did Up There. No Projects Except For Maintenance on Lab Fourteen and Continuity in Nine and Two. Some Information Came To Us Today With Her Majesty That Might…Change Things. I Need To Think. Spread The Word.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn't argue. “K-keep me in the…the loop.”

“I Will.” 

Once she’d put one of Sans’ exhausted arms over her shoulder and walked out with him, Gaster turned to the other immediate problem. The human propensity to pack-bond with anything four legged knew no bounds, it seemed. You had switched to sitting on the blaster’s knee, leaning over on it like the world’s most demented couch as it rested its head on its ‘paws’ and watched him silently.

“...I Am Thoroughly At A Loss. I Have Absolutely No Idea What To Do With What I'm Looking At Here.”

You stroked a finger down its shoulder, earning a gentle, happy nudge. “Sorry…I…he's just really nice.” 

Gaster sat down hard before you, feeling suddenly very weak and listless now that you were the only person here to impress. “The Spell That Made Them Mentioned Nothing About This. About A…Quasi-Sentience. Of Course Alphys Is Probably Correct, I Just…God's Above, I Feel Like I'm About To Faint. Today Has Been...” 

You nodded, and the two of you sat for a good fifteen minutes in silence, Gaster staring at the wall and imagining nightmare what-if's, while you scratched your nails along the blaster’s sharp spine.

He stirred when you murmured, “Not to bring up other ugly things, but I've been thinking about this for hours, ever since the Queen left. I wonder if she's still down there, deep down…don't you think it’s possible? Hiding somewhere in the Mountain, like a disease. You know what they taught us in classes- ‘All spells need an anchor. A cause and an effect.’ Well if binding the Monsters to the Mountain is the ongoing, permanent effect…then I bet she's the cause. I bet she's still there, somehow, it's what humans do. We move into places, claim them and push out the other things around us. Don't great mages essentially live forever? I was thinking about going and doing some reading upstairs about it before the whole…you know.”

The blaster growled softly in answer as if it was listening to your words, the noise reverberating in eerie waves off the metal walls of the room. Gaster privately decided that you were a genuinely frightening combination, sitting atop a beast made of his Soul and murmuring about necromantic magecraft. “A Terrifying Hypothetical…So Then, Presuming She Still Exists In Some Capacity…Where Is She Getting The Power To Do So? Great Mages Must Eat Something, Food Or Magic, To Survive. Much Less Continue Sustaining A Reality-Altering Spell. So What Is Her Source Of Sustenance...Ah…” 

Even as he asked it, an idea nudged at the back of his mind that was so horrifying, so sickening, that he almost couldn't bear to acknowledge it. “Oh…Oh Fuck Me.” You cocked a brow, but he shook his head. “I…Let Me Talk To Asgore First, And…And Gerson. Fuck. Fuck. I Don't Even Want To Speak The Idea Into Existence Before I Do. Especially Not In this Damned Place.”

Your eyes went wide in the face of his uncharacteristic hesitance- Gaster was many things, but a coward about bad news he was not. “...that bad?” 

“Horrible.” It would explain so much…no. Not yet. Not until he'd spoken to those who would have a better idea. “Alright. I Feel Damn Near Dusting For Lack Of Sleep. You, Creature-” he pointed at the blaster “-Need To Go Back Where You Came From, For Now. Christ, I…I Guess We Can Leave It In The Backyard If You Like It So Much. It Costs Me Very Little To Summon.” 

“Okay…” You looked hesitant, nervous after he'd avoided any further explanation, but excitement for the blaster won out over it. “My yard is a lot bigger, you know. I bet he would like it there. Does he need any food or water?” 

“No, ‘He’ Isn't Alive To…Ah, Fuck it, Perhaps They Are In Some Way. But No, They Don't Eat Or Drink.” 

It took some effort, but eventually he convinced the blaster to dissolve for a time, and drove the both of you back to your house in relative silence. Once there, he followed you into the living room, then pulled you into a hard one-armed hug, his other palm pressed tight over your Soul.

“It was that bad in there, huh?” Your voice was gentle. “I really don't remember it. I barely even remember seeing the thing before you destroyed it.” 

Paradoxically, now that he was in the peace and safety of your home, the anxiety was in full swing. He could barely focus past the image of you standing before the extractor, of the needle inches from your heart…and the knowledge that if his brother hadn't been there, you would be dead. His love, his saving grace, gone gone gone. And all of that, after learning what he had just hours beforehand. “...Please Excuse Me.” It was the only answer he could find.

You nodded hesitantly, sympathy in your eyes, as Gaster stepped away from you and locked himself in your bathroom. There, sitting in the dark, he put his head in his hands.

What next?

What now?

What now? 

He had no idea how much time had passed before his phone buzzed in his pocket. Wearily, he pulled it out, expecting another crisis- gods above, it was past two in the morning. But no- instead it was just you, texting him that you had made him a late dinner. You'd added a little heart at the end, and stupidly, the sight made his eyes burn. He forced himself out of the small room; the lights you'd turned on in your house were warm and low, well lit but not overwhelming, and something did smell undeniably delicious. He passed you on the couch on his way to the kitchen- you smiled at him, getting up and following. He'd just realized he was ravenously hungry, his eyes falling on a large plate of something or another that steamed, when you wrapped your arms around him from behind. 

“I don't think I realized until just now what happened, what really happened, earlier.” Your voice was muffled in his back. “Gaster, you worked on that for years. Years. And because of me…it's gone.”

He pulled you around so he could squeeze you tight enough that you squeaked, tucking you under his chin and clutching you there. “It Was A Dead End. I Think We All Knew It. And Nothing, Nothing-” his voice broke “-Is Worth Losing You. Nothing.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in its scent to ground himself as he tried to convince himself that you were okay.

“I know they both explained it to me, said it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't fight the spells. But still…I'm sorry. Sorry for everything, and that you were so scared.” You fought his grip until you could lean back to look him in the eye. “Thank you. You and your brother saved my life.”

“...From Something I Fucking Made.” The words were harsh, but you didn't flinch. “Yes. Thank you anyway. Now eat, you haven't been home for dinner very often lately so I've been getting creative. It's a Mediterranean casserole, and I have bread to go with it, if you give me a second.” 

He sat down helplessly into the chair you pushed him toward at the island, watching as you fluttered around the room- he didn't deserve this. “You're Too Forgiving.” 

“I don't remember anything that happened. Perhaps it was very scary and traumatic, but I don't remember it at all. Of course it's upsetting, and of course I'm sad that something like that even ever had to be made… but I understand why it was.” You stood across from him, a bowl in your own hand as you slid butter and a loaf of french bread toward him. “ I'm absolutely certain that you would never hurt me on purpose. So…it would be stupid to be upset with you or anyone else. It was just ugly bad luck.”

He ate in silence after that, unsure what else to say. Eventually, you sat your dishes in the sink to be worried about some other time. He followed you to bed, falling asleep curled up behind you with one hand protectively over your soul.

---

Over the following days you steeled yourself, waiting for nightmares or flashes of memories, something that would betray how scared and hesitant Gaster was with you now. But they never came. Just as Alphys had privately assured you over text, apparently getting your number from Sans, the enchantments that had hypnotized you almost acted like ‘twilight sleep’ anesthesia. You simply hadn't formed any memories during the time you'd been under them. The idea as a whole was still unsettling, of course it was, but bizarrely, it had left you much less affected then the others, despite you being the one in danger at the time.

The change in Gaster did scare you, though. Something about the hypothetical that you'd brought up to him, less than an hour after he destroyed the machine that had taken him so long to create, was driving him half-mad. Gone was his usual flavor of silent anxiety under stress- the man was bordering on explosive now, jumpy and fearful at every turn. He wouldn't say what about the idea of the mage still surviving scared him so badly - surely with enough Monster and human interference, with all of the modern technology and power of the two people's combined, the bitch could be taken care of once and for all? But when you asked him, he only said that her presence wasn't the concern. It was the second question- what was she living off of? And you had no more insight into that than any other human. He wouldn’t discuss it, said he needed more time, needed to ask the right people. 

You knew there were mysteries within the mountain, things that the Monsters kept close to their chest, but nothing further. Even a few subtle trips to the research libraries at the University showed you nothing useful. Countless references to various powers and miracles within their home, sure. But all of them were in folk tales, stories, songs and myths. Nothing concrete or even repeating.

And now Gaster would barely look at you. He would reach to touch you when he thought you weren't looking, then stop himself, clenching his fists. Slowly, he withdrew, making excuses for why he had to stay overnight at the D-Lab, or simply not coming home until long after you were asleep then passing out on your couch.

After more than two weeks of his bizarre new behavior had gone by, you'd had enough. The man was treating you like glass, and himself like poison. It felt like the past five months of progress had disappeared in a puff of extractor-flavored smoke; all his confidence with you was gone, or at least buried under worry and strain.

It was a popular time for your business though, which was a nice distraction from everything else in life…though the thought made you feel a bit guilty. You'd gotten a single update from the hospital, and entirely by accident- seemingly, registration in one area hadn't updated Zeke’s patient profile, so you'd still gotten a call that he'd left against medical advice and without checking in to rehab…and your first, knee-jerk thought was, ‘An entire race of people is dying slow deaths thanks to essentially a magical poisoning, and you're out there busy being pissed off that people won't let you live off their couches for free and do heroin all day. What a joke.’

When a Friday dawned and passed with not so much as a good morning from Gaster, it was honestly enough to make you worried- he hadn’t missed saying good morning to you in almost six months. Was he having second thoughts? Had the fragility of a human partner, or something else about what had happened that long, long day, made him feel less sure about you? You were trying to work on a lesson plan for the next three months at the University, sitting cross-legged on your couch with the TV on in the background, when a knock came at your door. Answering it, you found a very self-satisfied Papyrus, his arms full of grocery bags. 

“THEY HAD A SALE ON NAPA CABBAGE! I WANT TO MAKE KIMCHI, AND YOU'RE GOING TO HELP ME.” 

As the hours passed, kimchi making turned into wine drinking, and wine drinking turned into talking…and by nightfall you were tearing up on your best friend's shoulder, unsure if your partner was mad at you, or scared, or so stressed about other things that he had no more time for you… or maybe some terrible combination of all three.

Papyrus listened solemnly, then reached up and patted you on the head as you swiped a hand under your eyes- you'd started sobbing hideously at one point, and you knew you weren't a pretty crier. “It's dumb! We've been dating for months, I shouldn't be so upset just because he's busy with something else…”

“ARE YOU? OR ARE YOU UPSET BECAUSE YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT HIM, AND BECAUSE YOU CAN'T HELP? AND BECAUSE HE WON'T LET YOU IN?”

“Well… yeah, actually. I guess that's it.”  Trust Papyrus to cut to the heart of a problem. “And I know things aren't all perfect and happy with him, I know he has a lot he's struggling with; obviously, just being with me isn't going to fix all of that. I just wish he'd talk to me! I…I really miss him. We went from seeing each other every chance we could, sleeping over almost every night, and now I haven't even seen him in two days. He didn't even text me today! Do you think he's mad at me?” You sniffed wetly. “I just wish I knew what was wro-”

A noise behind you made you jump, whirling around on the couch… to find a very wide-eyed, guilty looking Gaster sitting a bakery box of something or another down on the island in the kitchen, his keys falling from his other hand onto the granite. It was obvious he'd just walked in, and even more obvious that he'd been eavesdropping.

“...AH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME, WELL THAT KIMCHI NEEDS TO SIT ANYWAY SO I THINK I'LL JUST HEAD ON OUT FOR NOW, TOOTLES!” The bastard left at a trot, closing your front door behind himself and leaving you to stare wordlessly at Gaster. To your frustration, tears began falling again at the sight of him.

Before you could stop yourself, the inane, childish words left you. “...are you mad at me?” 

His expression cracked. “What? God No, Of Course Not.”

“Th-then why…Gaster, why are you pushing me away?” Christ, you sounded pathetic. If anything though, your words only seemed to hurt him further- his face twisted, his hand coming up to clutch his chest over his Soul.

“Because…Because…” The words were fighting him; you could see him searching for a better way to put what he was about to say. 

“I love you so much-” God fucking damn it, you hated crying. Always had. “-and I miss you. I've really missed you.” 

“I Can't Stop Seeing You Die. My Mind Won't Let The Image Go.” The words left him so quietly, you weren't sure what he’d said at first, his voice rougher than usual. Either he'd been talking a lot that day, or his throat was tight with emotion… you bet you knew which one was true, at that moment. “Every Time I Close My Eyes, It's There. I'm Afraid That I'll Fucking Start Hallucinating It Soon. I’m Genuinely Going Mad From It, I Think” He glanced away then back again, and you realized that your stoic man had tears of his own in his eyes. Unshed, but present. “I'm About Half A Day From Breaking Down And Seeing One Of The Palace Healers For Medicine To Help Me Sleep. Something I've Never Considered Before.” 

It was as if he was frozen there, overbalanced like he wanted to walk toward you but holding himself back by a grip on the counter. 

“Have you…talked about it with anyone?” A tiny spark of hope fluttered through your chest for just a second. The fact that he'd even thought of the idea was so different from how he'd been six months ago- he’d have never considered getting help then. You wiped away the tears on your face and pulled yourself together a little. 

“No. I Haven't Told Anyone But You. And You're Already Upset Because Of Me, Fucking Hell…I Can't Do Anything Right.” He roughly ran a hand over his eyes, and your heart melted. 

“Please…come here.” 

He started to, then hesitated, looking back at his keys. 

You put a little more force in your voice- like hell you’d let him run away again. “Come here, honey. Or else I really will think you’re angry with me for something.” 

His face was haunted, but he obeyed, approaching you like he was afraid of what he'd find when he got close. He paused, and you patted the couch beside yourself, but he stepped between your knees and gracelessly went down on his own, hiding his face in your stomach and reaching out to take your hands and press them on either side of his head, squeezing so hard that it almost hurt. It was as vulnerable as he'd ever been in front of you, save for that horrible night after the farmer Curtis had unveiled a horrible truth in the annex research lab. 

“Okay. Let's do something together. Are you having that awful thought right now?” 

He nodded. Bending forward over him, you slid your hands out from under his so you could wrap your arms around him. After a moment, he slid his around your waist. You had to handle this carefully- you knew your man well enough to know he'd balk if you veered even the slightest bit into ‘therapy speak’. “So…let's let your mind really sink its teeth into it. I'm here right in front of you, so you know it's not true. So really chew on the idea. Think about how horrible it is, the worst imagery you can come up with. All the worst ideas, and the feelings that they cause, for…let's say, one minute on the clock there.”

Even despite your best efforts, there was a chance he'd reject this…no. After a few moments, he took a deep breath, then murmured, “Will You Tell Me When A Minute Is Up?”

“To the second.” 

And so you watched the second hand slowly make its way around, noticing but not reacting to the way his shoulders hitched once…twice.

“Alright. That's a minute. You've given it a solid minute of attention. Now, and I know this might sound silly to you, and you can say it in your head, maybe it would be good to repeat ‘That was a really ugly thought, and it made me feel sick’…or bad, or whatever negative word you want to use there. Just repeat it in your head, for another minute.”

He didn't say anything, but after a few moments, you felt his lips moving silently on your belly. Again, you called a minute passing. “So now you’ve focused on it for a good long time, and you've acknowledged how bad and shitty it makes you feel. Now, those two things are done. You don't have to do them again, you don't have to keep poking at it like a bruise or a hurt tooth.”

He rolled his forehead back and forth for a moment, then sighed. “And Now When The Idea Comes Up Again, I Briefly Acknowledge It, Then Do My Best To Ignore It And Keep Doing What I Was Doing Before, Letting It Fade Away Again.” At least the man had done his research. “The Idea Isn’t New To Me…But It Helped To Have You Actually Lead The First Part. Fucks Sake. I've Made It Worse By Avoiding You, Haven’t I?”

“Probably. You've reinforced it to yourself. I've really missed you, Gaster.” You said it all softly. “It makes me happy to help you, and I can help in so few ways. This is one of the only ways I can- being here for you to talk to, trying to be a shoulder for you to lean on.”

“I'm Sorry For Avoiding You These Past Few Weeks. I Never Lied, For What It's Worth. I Did Spend Those Nights At The D Lab. The Systems Are In Ruins, And The Electrical Backwash Was Severe. There's Other Projects In Motion That We Can't Just Abandon.” He took a deep breath, then another. “And There Are…Developments. I Prayed And Prayed That You'd Started Me On A, Oh What's The Human Phrase…The Hunt For The Imaginary Bird?”

“A snipe hunt,” you murmured, wildly concerned now. “But I'm guessing the snipe turned out to be real?” 

“I Worry More And More That It Is, Yes. Gerson, The Royal Historian, Is Beside Himself.” You wished he would come up off his knees, but he seemed to like it there for the moment, hiding between your legs. Poor, powerful man, with so few places that he could feel safe himself. “I…Fuck Me, I'm So Sorry. I've Been Acting Like A Damn Fool, I Didn't Mean To Make You Cry.”

“I knew things would be even crazier for you, now. I wasn't mad that you couldn't stay here every night, even though I wished you could.” You pressed kisses to the top of his head between sentences, trying to gentle him- he was strung like a piano wire, taunt to the point of tearing. “What upset me was that you were upset and sad and scared of something, and you pushed me away when I tried to help. I can help you with so little of your work, the only thing I can do is try to be there for you…and I can't do that if you won't let me.”

“I Know. I'm Sorry. Be…Be Patient With Me. I'm So Unused To This, My Longest Relationship In My Life, If You Could Even Call It That, Was Maybe Two Months Longer Than We've Been Together, And I Only Saw, Ah, Him, Once Or Twice A Month. That Was A Long Time Ago.” You had to smile a bit at that; it was so like Gaster, to offer up something deeply personal about himself to you as an olive branch. “There Were Others, Of Course. But Never Long Term. Never…As Deep As This. With You, I Feel Like I Don't Know My Own Mind. It Shocks Me Every Time That I Want To Lean Toward You In Moments That, Even Six Months Ago, I Would Lean Away From Every Person Around Me. I…I’ve Missed You Too.”

Oh you couldn't stop it if you tried, your body had decided today was a day for waterworks. You were crying again by the last word, and he finally surfaced from where he hid in your belly to gaze up at you in concern. “No, Shit. Wait, I've Upset You Again, I'm Sorry-”

Cutting him off with a finger to his lips, you leaned down and kissed him softly, deeply moved by what he'd said. A truth for a truth. “My longest relationship was five years , and I didn't love him like I love you.” Something equally shocked and deeply satisfied came into his eyes. “It scares me in a way I try not to think about, because sometimes when I'm hormonal and bitchy and miserable, my anxiety makes up these absolutely moronic little imaginary scenarios. What if something happened to you? What if I lost you? I'd never recover from it, and I'm being serious. There'd be a hole in my heart for the rest of my life.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, a wry smile crossing his expression. “Stars Above. To Think That We Imagine The Same Tragedies. A Maegister And A Human, Both Equally Concerned For The Other's Life. When My Safety Is So Much More Assured Than Yours.”

“But not for long,” you whispered, and that made him jolt back a tiny bit- what, did he think you'd forgotten Origami's words, just a few weeks back? It felt like a lifetime ago, so much had happened after meeting her. “Someday…God, I can't even imagine it. Lifetimes together.” 

“...How Can You Want That?” He looked ashamed the second he asked it- he hadn't meant to be so obvious with how badly he disliked himself. “Fuck, Sorry, Ignore That-”

Hmmm. “Where to start?” You cupped his face in your hands, staring into his eye. “You're truly one of the most loyal, reliable people I've ever met. Papyrus told me that before the very first time we met, and he wasn't wrong. I've never known someone as trustworthy as you.” 

He tried to look away, but you wouldn't let him. 

“You care so deeply for your people, are so honorable. Even when something is agonizing for you, you'll do it if you think it will help them. Truly, genuinely a protector. Like the most archetypal male protector/provider that I've ever known.”

He scoffed…but he didn't fight too hard to escape you.

“I love your mind, I love how fast you are. Your sense of humor is so dry, such perfect timing for little one word comments that are so freaking funny. I'm serious, you genuinely might be one of the funniest people I've ever met.” Gaster was blushing now, staring down at your lap since he couldn't escape your grasp. 

“You're terribly handsome. I'm going to confess something very embarrassing here, so only laugh a little bit. I used to love like…fantasy romances. Vampires, werewolves, faeries. Now here I am, blessed with the most handsome, fantastical partner I could have ever imagined. I like this-” you raised his hands to spam your waist, sucking in your belly so his fingertips could meet, and he bit his lip at the sight “-so much, you have very nice hands. And I like how tall you are, yet not clumsy at all. You're just so good looking that I don't know what to do with myself sometimes.”

He was blushing so hard now that the light was reflecting softly off of you. “Alright, Okay, I Get It-”

You used your fingers to press his lips closed. “Did I say I was done?” He frowned but fell silent…and surreptitiously dropped one hand to readjust himself in his pants. 

You noticed something there. Whether it was from the tender words earlier, the compliments now, or both, the man was getting harder by the second. Squeezing your thighs together for just a moment, you willed yourself to behave as interest sparked in your sex. 

Leaning forward, you pressed the softest, most delicate kiss to his lips. His reaction was as immediate as always, chasing you as you pulled back; no one could deny that the man loved kissing you. Parting from him, you leaned back just enough to murmur, “I love that you're such a good kisser.” When had this become a seduction? You didn't know. All you knew was that you'd missed him painfully these past weeks, and your body sang for his touch. To show him that you were alive and well, and breathing in his arms. “That you're so attentive in bed, that you're so experienced. It's perfect, I literally could not complain at all. I'm never…unsatisfied.” 

Another adjustment, his hand lingering this time before he dragged it away again. God, how had you not realized how lovingly erotic this all was until right that moment? Him on his knees before you, hiding from the world in your hold, finally letting you gentle him a little after almost three weeks of strife. Craving your affection but feeling like he didn't deserve it. Wanting. He’d always been a physical man, able to convey his feelings with his body so much easier than he did with his words. “If you want to, you should touch yourself. I'd love to watch.” He started to stutter out a denial but you shushed him. “Shhhhh, stop. I haven't finished yet. And you don't have to. I'm just saying that if you want to, you should. It’s very, very hot to watch.” You caressed his cheeks, running your thumbs under his eyes. The tension there was terrible. “I love you because someday…however it happens…I'll have so much longer with you than I could have ever imagined. We'll see the world change together, and we'll be happy, Gaster. You'll be happy. But ah, I’m getting distracted, this is about just you…” 

You ran your thumb over his thin lips. “So soft, I never would have guessed-” The sound of a zipper slowly opening, of fabric shuffling “-that they would be. Against every part of me. My lips-” he kissed you softly “-the curve of my neck, right here-” he dropped his mouth to where you pointed, dragging down your jaw to the join of your shoulder, his arm starting to slowly move up and down “-and even lower…god, that no one had ever done that for me before you. That you were the first person to touch me that way…”

His hand sped up, his eye fluttering closed for a moment, and you pressed your thighs together a second time, your voice catching. Of course he noticed- he let go of himself for a moment, his erection heavy between his spread thighs where it jutted out over his open fly, and reached up and beneath you to grip the waistband of your shorts. Catching your eye and waiting for your wordless nod, he slid them and your underwear off at once, tossing them to the side. Then, he pressed you backwards until you scooted back on the couch a little…and gently lifted one foot, bending you at the knee and propping it on the edge so your pussy was completely open to him, right before his eyes. All of it, without so much as a word. It was the most erotic thing you'd ever had a man do, and you knew he could see you clench down, because the moment you did he licked his lips. You'd have been embarrassed, save for how greedily he stared at you- your man was using you as erotic art, jerking himself off slowly to the sight of your body and the sound of your words as you listed all the reasons why you loved him. 

So he wanted a show? 

“The first time I felt your tongue right here-” you touched a fingertip to your clit, swollen and sensitive, pulling back on your lips the tiniest bit so he really had a good look “-god, I can't describe it. I'd never felt something so good.” He'd taken himself in hand again, blushing and practically windblown with desire, his eye wide and molten with it. Taking a shuddering breath, you dipped your fingers down lower, and the sound of how wet you were made you bite your lip. You hadn't even known, too focused on him, on trying to convince him of your sincerity. You couldn't make him love himself…but you could leave him without even the shadow of a doubt that you loved him.  

“So big, so big for me…big enough that this just isn't satisfying anymore.” 

“Ah Fuck…Yeah?" He leaned forward, dragging his tongue over the base of your buried fingers like he was licking honey from them, his breath coming faster now. Your eyes rolled back for a moment- you let him nose your hand back, freeing it from your body so he could suck your wetness from your skin. “And I love you because you make me crazy. Never have I been like this with anyone before you. So…so desperate. You make me want to be a slut for you, isn’t that amazing? ” You began drawing your fingers in circles around your clit, joined by his tongue in tantalizing little touches- he wasn't trying to interfere, he just couldn't stand not to taste you. 

“I could go on and on…oh god. I could talk about this for hours. Y-your voice, your body, the sounds you make, how chivalrous you are, how kind…how I love that you're so much stronger than me, so much older-” 

His breath caught for a moment as he rolled his forehead on your thigh and panted out your name. “P-Please Let Me Fuck You, I…I Know I Don't Deserve It, I Know I've Ignored You…”

A wickedly delicious idea occurred to you. So, he didn't think he ‘deserved’ it? He wanted some kind of, what, a punishment? 

“Okay sweetheart, let me feel that big cock. But…I just want you to know…I'm not going to let you stop until I think you've given me enough. Don't think I haven't noticed that about you. Poor, sweet Monster, so susceptible to human girls and their focus…their dirty intentions.” You smiled down at him innocently while spreading yourself open with two fingers at the same time, and you'd swear you saw his brain short circuit. “As repayment for ignoring me…I'm going to wring you dry.” 

His head jerked back at that, his lips dropping open…and he had to squeeze himself hard at the base of his cock to keep from cumming at your words, right then and there. You could see his hand get tight.

Perfect. 

“O-Oh, I… Yes.” 

Notes:

TBC

(Find me on tumblr @beewritesstuff)

Chapter 22: Renewal

Gaster felt oddly weightless, floaty and lost in his own body. All his focus was split in two directions. Deliciously, the sensation around his cock as you slowly sank down onto him, right in the middle of your living room with your back still against the base of the couch. And intoxicatingly, your face, the way your brow furrowed and your lips parted as he split you open. Finally, after so many months together, you could take him without slowly working him in…and the thought was enough to drag that first little orgasm out of him, making him clutch you to himself and moan softly, his eyes rolling back. He felt your small gasp at how his length twitched inside you. 

“Oh, oh… this is such a good angle, this is such a good position, god…” It would have been hard, without something behind your back to support yourself on. As it was, you could crouch over him, working yourself as you threw your head back, and still not overbalance. Gaster groaned- fuck you felt so good, he'd missed this. You ripped your shirt off, throwing it away, and he began fucking up into you, meeting your body each time and already panting with how close he was- the telltale, delicious burn in his balls wasn't fading like it usually did after he finished that first time. No, it was lingering, growing. He looked up at your face, and realized with something between nervousness and excitement that you were focused, staring into his eye with…with intention, and oh god…

…every drop of magic he gave you, you could turn back on him.

“How long is three weeks worth, hmm?” What a beautiful, gentle tyrant you were. He loved you so fucking much. It was hard to imagine you dead, dangling from the Extractor's needle, when every thought in his mind was filled with your body, your voice, you, you, you. “How many t-times do you think you can, really?”

Fuck, he was about to cum already. He spread his legs further for more balance, thrusting up into you as you writhed atop him, licking his lips to chase any last drop of you from them. “I…Fuck, I Don't Even Know.” He couldn't help himself- something had possessed him, a spirit of want and cravings, making him admit to filth. “But- Ahhhh, Yes… I'm A Very Magical Monster, A-After All…”

When you pawed your bra down roughly, his mouth went dry. It was effortless to lift you a bit and push you back on the couch, your shoulders supported on it while he went up on his knees and held your lower body in his hands, helped by you when you wrapped your legs around his waist. You reached over, dragging a pillow over to stuff under the back of your head, tilting your neck up enough that you could watch every second. He sucked at your tits like he was starving, panting into the soft flesh and gritting his teeth against your nipples as he got closer…closer…

“Don't cum yet.” Your voice was sweet and iron clad. His eye rolled back; he bit his lip hard enough it hurt. “I…How Can I Not- !!!” You'd slapped him, very gently, but the surprise of it was enough to make his toes curl. “Don't. Not until I say so.” 

“Fuck, God, I… Shit… ” He pressed his brow to your shoulder, looming over you, fucking you so hard that the heavy, heavy couch began to slide back and inch or two until it hit the wall. He was so close that his cock ached, so close that his magic was bright enough to shine out through your body, showing just how deep he was each time he thrust back in. His eyes were rolling back, his grip so tight on your hips that they genuinely might have bruised.

“Do you love me?” You offered up your breast to him with your cupped hand and he took it in his mouth, tonguing your nipple until you cried out and went tight around him. Tearing himself away, he clenched his teeth and eyes, straining. “Y-Yes…”

“Do I love you?” You gripped him by the chin and forced his gaze up to yours, using your legs wrapped around his waist to make him fuck you faster. It was torture- he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to stand this and still follow your command. He choked on the answer as it left him. “I…Yes, You Do, I C-Can't Deny It.” 

“Am I alive?” You held his face with one hand and began touching yourself with the other, and he groaned through his teeth, teetering on the very edge of cumming and fighting it as hard as he could. “Am I here with you?” He was so close that his cock was jumping inside you, his equivalent of precum pulsing from him and making your lovemaking sound sloppy and wet and astoundingly erotic. He turned and bit his own arm hard, trying to fight the sensation and the need, and the sound you made at the sight was almost unbearable. Yes, the pleasure would be rich…but your approval and permission would be so much richer. “Yes, You're Alive…Y-You’re Right Here In My…My…Please, Love Please, Please Let Me Cum- ” 

You pressed your cool hands to his face, turning him to look at you again. “You've done such a good job. This was so hard for you, I can tell how hard…I can tell you're so close, my sweet man…so wonderful for me, so careful.”

He felt unwilling tears well up in his eyes- not at the praise, but at the desperation it caused. Fuck, he wanted to be good for you, but he couldn't stand another second, it hurt-

-he realized he was saying these things aloud, his words frantic. “-Hurts, I Have To Cum, It's Been Two Weeks, Please-”

You smiled at him, your face flushed and misted with sweat, your nipples pink and swollen from his desperate attention…and for a long moment, you held his eye while he pounded you, barely clinging to his own self control. 

Then-

“Give it to me. Right now, go ahead.”

The sound that ripped from his chest could hardly be called a groan- a deep, harsh noise of overwhelm and relief as he bottomed out inside your body and felt the orgasm drag from the base of his neck to the soles of his feet, his hips jumping so hard he almost lost his balance. It poured from him, huge, squeezing, straining ropes that soon spurted out from around his cock as he thrust himself home again and again…

And now the other side of your sweet, gentle torment began. For you weren't passively accepting how his body experienced its pleasure like you usually did, inviting him to slowly calm inside you over minutes…no. He could feel your intention in the air around him like static, growing stronger with each groaning load of magic that he pushed into your fluttering, clenching sex after two weeks of drought. Part of him really wondered if he was hallucinating, for he'd swear on his Soul that he could feel your phantom touch on his ass, forcing him forward again after each pause between peaks. He'd swear he could feel your hand on his sack, something his body usually didn't even manifest, squeezing ever so gently while his hips began to jump and another white-hot cycle of orgasm seared across his body and Soul far sooner than it would naturally.  It left him oversensitized, branded; he shook his head feverishly, pressing his face into your hands, “Fuck…Slow Down, No More, I-”

“ Yes more…though if you want to, squeeze my wrists, and this stops. You're so fucking good looking like this, you feel so good, I…Gaster I'm so close, just from watching you…”

Over, and over, and over again. He lost track of time, lost track of everything . It was all so much. The love he felt for you, giving him a gentle way out that didn't need words. The pleasure of your body, getting tighter and tighter around him- he hadn't even noticed, so enraptured with your commands. The sweetness of the knowledge that somehow his old bones could bring a beauty like you so close to the edge, without even trying…

The next wave of orgasm left him growling, speechless, squeezing your tits harder than he should have but unable to stop. You reached down, rubbing your clit roughly until you threw your head back and sobbed his name, a spray of wetness soaking his open pants in a way that left him reeling- he'd never felt that from you before, hadn't known you could-

“Gaster! Gaster, oh my god, yes! Yes!”

It was easily the most, the hardest, that he'd ever cum in his life, his Soul straining to offer you the magic you were demanding from him, answering your pleasure. When a very subtle ache began to spread from his chest, he squeezed your wrists, panting and gasping into the skin over your heart. 

Instantly the demand from you faded, replaced by such love that he didn't know what to do with himself. Your Soul was cycling his power, giving real magical weight to your intention. You intended for him to know how much you loved him, and he couldn't help but feel it. After a few moments of just breathing together, he started to grin, then chuckle. Exhausted, you blew a strand of hair out of your eyes, holding your breasts like they needed protection from something (him), and cocked a brow at him as you panted open-mouthed. “Christ…what? Share the joke, handsome.”

“I Can't Get Up.” He could barely get the words out between giggles, the first time he'd laughed in days. “Fuck Me Girl, You're A Wild Animal.” 

With some struggle, he managed to help your giggly, happy self scoot back on the couch enough to get your bare ass up on it, freeing his arms (“Thank God it's leather!”), then fell forward, his face half in your belly and half in your pussy. He let out a muffled groan of satisfaction, his legs trembling beneath him. “Perhaps I’ll Just Go To Sleep Right Here On The Floor. God, How Long Were We At It?” 

Glancing at the clock, you whistled. “Like a…a fucking hour and a half. God damn…” You reached up, fanning yourself. 

“...Thank You.” He looked up at you, at the woman he loved so much, who understood him so innately. “I…That Was…” 

“Amazing. And a lot.” You murmured it with a smile, tracing your hands over his head. “I don't mean this just in a physical way or even a sexy dick size way, you're so huge above me. The more we sort of…harmonize with each other, the more I can feel it. You're enormous with magic, the size of an ocean next to a lake in other Monsters. I'd always wondered- long before Origami, Sans had hinted, and then that time in the annex lab when he let me see you- but my god, to be able to feel it myself.” You reached down, drawing him up on shaking legs so you could kiss him. “You blame yourself for what happened with the extractor…but Gaster, I know this is true like I know my own name. There is nowhere on this planet that I'm safer than right here. In your arms.” 

He squeezed his eyes closed, too many warring emotions inside himself. “I mean it, I really do. It’s such a heavy thing to be sure of. You'd protect me from anything. You'd k-kill yourself to protect me, god help me...” 

Without hesitation.

“I…hope what I offer you is enough, in exchange for something so precious. I hope I'm good enough for you.” 

God, he couldn't help it- incredulous laughter drove him to his feet, dizzy and stumbling, gathering you up into his arms and lurching toward your bedroom. He dropped you into bed- damn the couch, he could clean it later -and fell beside you, curling around your body and almost shaking with affection. 

“How Do You Do This? You're Like The Sun To Me, I Can't…I Can't Understand.” He was so drained that his mother's necklace fell from the simple concealment spell he usually kept on it. With awe in your eyes, you reached up a single, reverent finger to touch it where it lay tumbled through collarbones, and Gaster realized how thoroughly you'd integrated with his people. How much respect and devotion you had to his culture. “No one deserves this more than you.” Your voice was a whisper. “Oh sweetheart, I wish I could have met her.”

He knew you meant his mother. “She Would Have Loved You. Would Have Spent Her Days Throwing Me Out So She Could Have You All To Herself.” 

“Is there any image of her anywhere, I wonder? I…just want to see her. Just to know.” 

He nodded. “In The Archives At The Palace, There's Several Paintings And Drawings Preserved Of Both My Parents. She Was Too Important Not To Have Them, And He Was Very Respected. I've Considered Having A Few Turned Into Prints, Giving Them To Sans And Papyrus Too.” He'd take you tomorrow. A break from the madness with Gerson and Asgore.

Snuggling into his chest, you pressed a kiss over his Soul, your lips lingering on his ribs. “You should. Are you okay honey? I didn't hurt you, did I? I got a little carried away.”

He snorted, toeing off his pants and snuggling down into your pillows as you dragged the blankets up. “No. It Was…Incredible. I Needed It.” He unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, fighting it off one arm and the other then dropping it over the side of the bed. “I Would Never Trust Anyone Else To Do Such A Thing.”

You tilted your head back to gaze up at him, and he saw his magic at the back of your eyes like tiny flames flickering. Your irises had slightly shifted in color too- he loved seeing the change, it felt right. “It was…different this time. Usually I feel…well…” You took his hand and slid it low, over your belly, and he closed his eyes for a moment to brace himself against the surge of love that the idea brought on. “But it's different this time. I…there's an opportunity here, if I want it. Or at least the beginning of one.” You brought his hand up to rest over your Soul. “The start of…a change. One that’ll take a long time, I think. But this is like…the first step of it.” 

He shivered involuntarily, awed by what you were saying. It was like a spider making a web, or an oriole weaving a nest- he'd ‘known’ he could do it, that he had the capability, but not consciously. “It…It's Your Choice, My Love. It Always Will Be.” 

“Then I choose you.” The words were simple; the feeling was anything but. He sensed something happening, something he'd never felt before. An entirely new experience. He felt it as all his magic in your body, all the power he'd given unto you, spiraled up to your Soul…and began to crystallize there. As slowly as a geode forming- it would take decades for the change to be detectable…but that was the point, wasn't it? So long as you continued to say yes, so long as you gave the magic permission…you'd have all the time in creation. Something at the core of your human Soul shifted, and it almost felt like a pocket watch in his hand suddenly pausing, the hands frozen where they were. 

He was speechless. It was the most simple, thorough declaration of loyalty and intention possible. 

“Let's get through all of this nonsense together. The Mountain, the mage…and when it's done, let's go see beautiful things together.”

What else could he say?

“...Agreed.” 

The two of you were quiet for a time, Gaster laying there and practically reeling in wonder and the magical equivalent of endorphins, and you, lounging on your back in satisfaction with your legs in a bawdy splay. After a few minutes, you turned on your side, buried your face in his neck, and sniiiiiffed so deeply that he cackled, squirming away from you. His arms were like rubber though, and in moments you had him pinned, half laying atop him and using your thigh and chest to hold him in place while he giggled helplessly. “S-Stop It, Oh My Stars, You Crazy Woman- Ah! Off!” You'd sniffed your way into the crook of his arm, nosing into what would be his underarm, and he could hardly catch his breath from laughing. “Out! Away!”

You groaned in satisfaction, flopping down onto his chest and nuzzling there. “God you smell so good , what is that cologne? So many of the ones you wear have that same undernote, it's delicious.” 

Chuckling, he ran a hand over your hair, smoothing it down from its post-sex craziness. It wasn't the first time he'd heard it, though it meant much more coming from you than any previous fling- there was a reason he preferred the scent over all others. “It's A Resinous Wood, I Don't Know What Humans Would Call It. We Call It Kingswood, Made From Damaging The Roots Of Certain Trees And Inoculating Them With Spores.”

“Like aloeswood then, kind of. I love it.” 

He hummed, starting to feel drowsy. What a fool he'd been, these past weeks. Somehow he'd convinced himself that the sight of you would trigger that ugly, repetitive, anxious thought…when obviously the opposite was true. It was much easier to imagine someone dead and dangling when one hadn't seen them alive and well. 

“...Why Is My First Instinct Always To Do Something To My Own Detriment? Why Do I Do This To Myself, Over And Over In Life?” He sighed. “It Isn't Something I Expect You To Answer, My Love. Just A Question I Need To Examine Within Myself.”

Nodding, you moved backwards a bit until you were laying more comfortably beside him. “I understand. You know you can talk to me, I'll try my best to help.”

“I Know You Will.” He hesitated. “So…These Past Few Weeks, There Has Been A…Concern. Raised By Your Musings In The D Lab, And Elevated By Me After Further Thought On The Matter.” 

You gazed up at him, your eyes sleepy but interested, and it occurred to him (though not for the first time) how easy it was to confess his worries to you. How easily he bent to you, a willow dipping to water. The thought might have scared him, once- now, it felt like the most natural result in the world. Who wouldn't do the same for you? 

“Your Supposition Rang With Truth In My Power, A Gift I Hope To Explore More And More With You For Its Sheer Usefulness. The Moment You Spoke The Words, I Felt Something…Wrong. I Have No Better Explanation.”

Frowning, you went up on your elbow, listening. “One Of The Identifying Questions Of Our Binding To The Mountain Has Always Been The Same- What Powers It? What Is The Source Of Intention And Focus? Seven Souls Were Tied To The Barrier, But Only To The Barrier, And Both Their Intention And Focus Waned Near The End Of Its Existence, Despite The Spell Being So Carefully Crafted As To Last For An Eternity. In Comparison, The Magic Of The Power Chaining Us To The Mountain, Taking Away Our Self Reliance And Innate Magical Reserves…It's Subtle. Incredibly Subtle, It Took Me Quite Literally Decades To Even Identify That It Existed. We All Knew, But We Didn't Know. If That Makes Sense.”

“In a way, it does. There's only a handful of you that remember how things were ‘before’. It's challenging for people to objectively study something that, in their experience, is just an innate and unquestioned aspect of their reality.” Your eyes looked troubled. “I assume most modern Monsters would think that it's only natural to be so magically entwined with the place they were born, and its status as a sacred location for your culture doesn't help with that.”

“Just So.” He turned, taking your hand and hugging it to his chest, just for the comfort of the touch. “The Combination Of Many Things Lead Me To Imagine Something Terrible- Starsinger's Description Of Feeling The Scarlet Mage Pass Her, Going Deeper Into The Mountain…The Harmonics Of Your Words, Guessing That She Still Remains…The Nature Of Our People's Attachment To The Mountain Itself…It All Leads Me To A Nightmare Conclusion.”

You blinked. “I…Gaster, I was kidding, mostly. I meant that her power could still be alive, her magic. How would she even still be alive, she'd be ancient, I-”

“As Am I, Though Of Course Not To The Same Extent.” 

“But she was ancient when you were young. You said so yourself, she'd been in power for centuries, leading her country as some sort of god-queen long before…before…” Your voice trailed off as he only nodded. “I…then how? God, you really think…?”

He pressed a kiss to your wrist. “Please Don't Share What I'm About To Tell You. You Know Many Things That I Trust You To Keep To Yourself, But This Is…The Most Important Of Them All.”

A solemn, if a bit confused, nod. “Of course.”

“At The Heart Of The Mother Mountain, There's A Shrine As Old As Thought. As Old As The First Monsters Who Developed Basic Language, Art, And Comprehension Of The World Around Them. A Circle Of Standing Stones, Surrounding…Surrounding The Core Of The Meteor That Carried The Origin Of Our People.” What a sinner he was, speaking these words into mortal ears. “It Is Magic. The Primordial Magic, Our Connection To This Planet At Its Basest Sense. And I Am Terrified That She Found It.”

“Oh christ…” There was true horror in your voice. “That's like...like if Satan himself was found festering on Golgotha. Or hiding in the church in Jerusalem.”

“...Basically, Yes.”

You reached out, winding your fingers through his ribs and pulling yourself in closer, hiding against him. “I'm so sorry…can anyone…check? Is there still a pathway down to that place?”

“The Path Is Lost. That's What Gerson And His Scouts Are Working On. He Was Left To His Own Devices For The Past Century, So Now He's Being Forced To Relearn How To Manage A Team. He Has Help, But It's Taking Time. There Isn't Technically A Severe Rush, We've Survived For A Thousand Years With The Issue…” He shivered, despite your warmth. “But The Idea Of It Is Unbearable.”

You nodded. “Who could blame you for being freaked out?” Despite the subject, he had to smile- your words were blurring just the tiniest bit, your eyelids fluttering. Sweetly tormenting him must have worn you out. “My poor man…I'm so sorry you've been dealing with this.” 

“I'm Just Providing Organization. Despite My Interest In Research, I Have Always Been Forced Into A Systems Engineering Position By Circumstance. It’s…The Subject, Combined With What Happened At The D Lab, That's Making Me So Ragged.”

You were quiet for a moment, and he wondered if you'd finally drifted off. But no; after a few seconds, you sighed. “Is there…anything you can do to help prevent some of that? I'm quite in love with you, you know. It does hurt me to see you so upset.”

He grimaced, even though your words made his Soul feel warm. “There Probably Is. I Need To Hand It Off, Now That I've Started The Project. I Think I…Need To Take A Break. From Everything Like That. At Least For A While.” 

“Good. Not that I don't want you to feel useful, love. But…things were getting bad again, the past few weeks.”

“They Were…And I Love You Too. More Than I Can Say.”

After a few minutes of peaceful quiet, he heard your breaths change- you'd finally fallen asleep. 

‘I love you so much that I will try my best to survive this cold world,’ he thought to himself. ‘And we will have a long, happy life together.” 

He fell asleep with his nose in your hair, breathing in your shampoo.

Notes:

Follow me on tumblr @beewritesstuff for updates, nonsense, and fanart!

Chapter 23: Impulse

Gaster tried several times over the next few weeks to step back from ‘the project’, as people had taken to calling it, with varying degrees of success. He'd simplified his involvement to you for ease of explanation after such a deliciously brain melting night- in reality, there were far more layers of other individuals and groups involved than simply himself, Asgore, and Gerson's slap-dash fellows. 

The Stonecutter’s Guild alone were a constant, necessary thorn in his side; they knew they were needed for their ability to safely open new pathways down into the Mountain’s depths, and were using their position of necessity to try to negotiate for all sorts of extra goodies from the Crown. It made him grind his teeth to see them trying to leverage such a severe situation for personal gain…but they were hardly the only ones. Several other guildhalls and gifted loners, each approached by the Crown at Gaster's direction, had gotten the idea of doing so from them and were stating their own heightened retirements in exchange for their assistance. It was exactly as you'd said- having been born knowing nothing else, they didn't feel the urgency that he and the other Perpetuals did about the situation. No matter how he explained the danger, no matter how his trusted people reviewed the history and the risk again and again in clandestine meetings, profit (and, rarely, modern Mountain spirituality) came up as an obstacle. 

It wasn't that the Crown couldn't or wouldn't pay, even though it maddened all of them to see the fools focus on gold. But with profit being the driving force, it was easy for old grudges to arise, making it hard to organize even the basest exploratory teams. The undertaking was huge; the roots of the Mountain were enormous and sprawling, even with Gerson's directives. Yet they had hardly been able to activate more than three small exploratory expeditions so far- too many moving parts needed to come together to make them possible. 

Finally, as that horrible, dark feeling started to grow in his heart again, Gaster took a risk…one he'd pondered for months already. He promoted Eddie to a new position, Senior Project Director, bringing  him into the knowledge of the Scarlet Mage and the Mountain search. The other man looked haunted by the end of that first debriefing- Gaster had picked a Friday, giving him the weekend to recover and decide if he wanted to accept the promotion.

When Eddie walked in Monday morning, grim-faced with determination, and immediately told one of the other department representatives at the meeting to “Shut the hell up or get out!” before Gaster could even rebuke them himself, he knew it had been an excellent idea. Eddie was the talented administrator that Gaster wasn't- his experience and skill at controlling people, mixed with the heavy, looming presence of Gaster over his shoulder like a continual promise of consequences to the other idiots, was perfect for the task. 

He made another change too during that time, though that one had been planned for months- the growth experiments were now solely under Alphys’ capable eye; with Poppy as her coordinator, he trusted the two women to accomplish wonders. Alphys had a degree of experience with esoteric magics that few others could claim, and was best suited to a project that left her running a small, tight group of dedicated researchers. 

It was nearly a miracle; after nearly three hundred years, Gaster had finally, finally forced himself to delegate…and so far, nothing terrible had come of it. With a slight reduction in his responsibilities, and the opportunity to apply himself to research as he preferred rather than systems management, things simultaneously got a little easier, and infinitely more anxiety inducing. But the weather had started turning definitively cooler with the onset of autumn, and soon Papyrus had managed to get him hooked on the human sport ‘golf’ on the weekends. It was a relaxing game, with hours spent whiling the day away in casual conversation and sips of tasty drinks. Sometimes you joined them, wearing cute little outfits with skirts so short Gaster had half a mind to find the nearest tree and test it's durability with you- they certainly didn't stay long on you when the two of you got home. Any distraction was welcome.

One morning, at your urging, a visit to the palace healers left him with an innocent little decoction to be taken twice a day; the healer he'd seen had called it a ‘brightener’. “It just makes it a bit easier to see the good side of things,” the wise old Barn Owl had explained, his golden eyes twinkling over his little spectacles. “It's good that you came now, and could recognize that you needed it. Many put such things off until it's, ah…too late.” 

Gaster had swallowed hard at that, taking a dose of the medicine on the spot- he never wanted ‘too late’ to find him again.

He’d also, slowly and in pieces, started…moving in with you, for lack of a better term. It wasn't purposeful- he didn't wake up one morning and decide to hire a moving company. It's just that more and more of his things ended up at your house. Actually, he thoroughly blamed you. He got home one Thursday evening to hear your distant swearing; a quick search turned you up in an unused guest room that had slowly accrued junk over the years, according to you. You'd almost entirely cleared it out; a last few totes sat by the door, waiting to go down into the basement. He found you on the floor, your rump in the air, reaching under the couch in the room with a duster. 

“What's This?” He leaned against the doorway, smiling at the view.

“Damn stupid little bottlecap…aha!” You struggled back out with a huff, blowing hair out of your eyes. “Hi! And well…I felt bad that you don't really have a space around here of your own, and you're here more often than at your own place. So I figured, since I was just collecting junk in here, you could do whatever you want with this space. Turn it into an office, go find a nice expensive man-hobby, whatever makes you happy.”

Gaster took a deep breath, enjoying the spike of warmth that filled him at your consideration- it soothed him as much as the medicine did. “I See…Trying To Keep Me Here More Often, Love?”

Sitting back on your heels, you smiled up at him. “You caught me. The desk I ordered to go in here is the final net in the trap.”

Things devolved rapidly from there- you were flushed and sweat-misted from effort, sweet in his arms as he drew you up onto the couch; he held you close as you whispered hotly in his ear, riding out the last sparks of pleasure, and closed his eyes for a moment to focus on how lucky he was. 

Overall, things were…better. Not peaceful, exactly; the threat loomed over him and the other Perpetuals like a lead weight. But he tried damn hard to force himself to look for brightness despite it all. 

Another week passed, this time in relative quiet. Gerson had finally found some of his old backbone, and had roared the Stonecutter guild into compliance, at least until they overcame their shock. You'd think it would calm him…but no. Something bad was coming, and he had no idea if that feeling was real, if it was an actual premonition born of his power…or if it was sheer anxiety and a trick of the mind. He doubled the dose of the elixir given to him by the palace healers, and still the feeling lingered. 

…

…and then that Thursday afternoon, he got an innocuous little note delivered to his university office. 

-

Gaster looked up from the stack of documents he was to review and sign- leftovers still from the stack he'd been delivered and had promptly abandoned on that terrible day some weeks ago- frowning at a knock on his door; he wasn't expecting any visitors. A twitch of his fingers opened the latch. The Rabbit bowed quickly, bouncing into the room and handing him a plain white envelope. “Have a good day, sir!” They closed his office door again behind themselves.

He nodded absently, frowning as he slid a fingertip under the seal- the envelope was only marked with his name and title. The page inside was equally as bland. It was a palace invoice for translation services, oddly enough, complete with a little note at the end.

The translation requested by your family clan has been completed and returned to Sans Fonteri by our own head scribe. Please see above for your due amount. Thank you.

Finance and Accounts

Translation? He didn't remember requesting anything like that, at least not personally. There'd been the mass of documents found in the Script Catacombs- and gods, didn't that feel like it was a century ago? But none of those would have been translated specifically under the auspices of the royal scribes- they'd gone to the various guilds or representatives that could most use the information. A quick call to his brother wasn't helpful either- Sans only made a displeased noise, plainly distracted by something. 

“oh…yeah. hey, don't worry about that- they were supposed to bill me directly, i dunno what the hell happened. just forget about it. sorry, but i gotta go- alph wants me for something.”

Gaster was rather taken aback at the abruptness…but…he tried to put it out of his mind. He’d ask Sans next time he saw him.

But…

But then you texted him innocently around sunset. Sans had asked if you’d go for drinks with him after dinner- apparently something had happened that day that had upset him, and you were going to try to help him out.

Something dark and ugly and worried began to crawl through Gaster’s Soul- the feeling that had haunted him all week, growing stronger. He knew he should leave it alone, but…the situation was whispering in the back of his head, and he'd never been able to ignore something even if it was good for him. He was out the door and in his car before he knew it, driving to the surface lab in a nervous daze…weaving in and out of traffic as he blew through the city twenty miles over the speed limit. He'd just ask Sans, right? 

He'd just make sure his brother was okay.

---

Sans had just finished explaining the scant surface of what lay in the innocent-seeming folder of documents between the two of you…and you already felt sick to your stomach. Would that you could go back in time, could stop yourself from ever giving it to the man to be translated. Could tell yourself to slip it into your bag, take it home, destroy it. But no. It sat there, a simple little stack of ancient parchment, bound skins, and a neat set of modern typed pages on top, and Sans was staring at it like he wanted to pull his own eyes out.

“Start over from the beginning,” you murmured, casting an eye over at his closed office door to check for any eavesdropping shadows. “Hey, look at me- look at me.” 

He did, dragging his eyes off the floor with some effort- the poor man looked exhausted. You knew (you knew, god help you, and the two of you had to talk about that knowing, but both of you shied away from the idea like it was scalding hot) that he was tired most days, had far less in his ‘reserves’ than most people did. And still he put on a good face and forced humor out no matter the situation. To see him like this, dark-eyed and grey?

You leaned over, putting your hand on his arm. “I'm sorry. I'm really trying to listen, but you went really fast, and…look, there just weren't quite enough nouns and verbs in that explanation.” Smiling gently, trying to lighten him with a little humor, you squeezed the thick bones of his wrist. “One more time for late-comers and sinners. What was in these documents?” 

He didn't answer, his delivered sandwich laying ignored and long gone cold in its foam box beside his elbow. Biting back a sigh, you reached for the papers…and he stopped you, his expression frantic.

“no, hey…please just don't, okay?”

Frowning, you acquiesced. “Sans, come on- just be out with it. Let me help. You tried to tell me but I gotta be honest, I literally have no idea what you said man, it was half gibberish. I heard your mom's name, Gaster's…just start over from the beginning-”

The door on the far side of his large office opened. Sans somehow went pale - one would never notice that Skeletons had the very faintest tinge of their magic's color in their bones until it drained away, leaving them quite literally bone white. Maybe the trait carried over from their human ancestry…

Sans stood so fast he knocked his chair over, and Gaster flinched. It was like being between two feral cats- you inched your rolling chair to the side a bit, trying to get out from the middle of them. Why was he even here? Not that you weren't happy to see your man, but his arrival seemed tremendously convenient in the worst way.

Gaster glanced between you and his brother, then down at the ground, as he approached. “I, Uh…” And then, like a moth to a flame, his gaze jerked to the stack of papers that had upset Sans so badly. He reached for it, almost without thinking…

And then Sans did something very unusual for the three brothers. 

They had a dynamic, as all families did; one of theirs was that he and Papyrus seldom directly defied Gaster. Papyrus used disapproval and nagging to get his oldest brother to do what he wanted (extremely effective), and Sans used humor, cajoling and teasing until Gaster acquiesced (usually effective). Neither of them often would stand up, stare him in the eye, and flat out refuse or demand something. 

But you knew Sans. Knew him in a painful, overly-close way that the two of you didn't talk about much. You knew terribly personal, intimate things about him, and he you, and that knowledge had simultaneously brought the two of you immensely closer and shoved your burgeoning friendship far apart. You knew one thing about him that was truer than any other.

Sans loved harder than anyone you'd ever met in your life. He loved his brothers, his royals, and the Mage child Frisk more than anyone could possibly fathom.

And it was with that love that he straight up ripped the papers back out of his brother’ hand. 

“no. just…just no.”

Gaster froze, glaring- the anger seemed to shake him out of whatever odd mood he’d showed up in. “Excuse Me? Why Can't I-” 

Sans met his eye, shaking his head, and you could see him physically set his heels. “no. i won't let you read this. they directly defied me by bringing it to you after i told them not to.”

Your man scoffed, getting offended. “Where Do You Get Off-” And then he shut up, because Sans walked around his desk, stepped up to his brother, and took his hand in his own, holding three fingers- it was all he could wrap his own around, the size difference between them was too enormous. His voice was soft. “do you trust me?” 

The overwhelming insight that you had into Sans, like a zip bomb of information forever lingering in your mind that you didn't dare usually think about, showed you memories that weren't your own- being a child that barely came up to Gaster's knee, holding his hand first by one finger, then two, then three as he got older. It told you the emotional weight of the moment. Gaster had raised his brothers, forced into a parent-child-sibling relationship by fate and a mother who'd had to pick the best of two terrible choices. Right now, Sans, who partially worked under Gaster and regularly clashed with him over that work, was coming to him as his little brother. Not just an employee. Not just a sibling. 

“please. please trust me. leave this and forget it, i swear to you on my soul that there's nothing happy in this, and nothing that will help us. it's just…old, sad news. you don't need it.” He held his brother’ eye with his own, pleading. “please. i can't stand seein’ what it’ll do to you. haven't i gone through enough shit myself? don't make me go through that too.” 

Gaster deflated slowly in the face of Sans’ soft, pained sincerity, and the reminder of the horrible, repeating months- seemingly stretching into eternity -that the younger man had lived through. That knowledge was something that you shied away from in your own mind like a tumor, or a bad chemical. Like it could hurt you just to relive it through Sans’ memories. 

(It probably could.)

Gaster started to say something, then stopped…then did it twice more before he finally scrubbed his other hand over his face. Sans hadn't let go of his right. “Fuck Me, It's That Bad? I’ve Had A Feeling, All Week, I…” 

And then Sans turned and looked at you. “it's that bad. it's really, genuinely that fucking bad.” You knew what he was saying. ‘Keep an eye on him. Don't let him be alone, a chance for him to go hunting for this. Don't let him take things from guild translators without checking them yourself.’ 

Gaster bit his lip…then motioned to you. “I…I'd Like Her To Read It, A Second Opinion. If It's That Severe, Then I Want Someone Else I Trust To Know Whatever It Is Besides You And The Fucking Crown Scribes. In Case They Turn It Against Us.”

“i…fuck me, okay. and ‘scribe’, for what it's worth. just one. jericho didn't let anyone else see it.” Sans gripped his hand hard; you could hear their bones creaking against each other. “promise me you don't have some way to pull information out of her. some weird connection, now that your magic is enmeshed.” 

When Gaster took a breath, perhaps starting to truly get angry at the insinuation, Sans actually looked away for a second and ran his hand over his eyes, then set his jaw and turned back again. Faint blue light glimmered in the sockets- he didn't want to fight, but for Gaster, and over whatever was in that ugly ream of documents, he would. He been similarly near tears when he'd called you hours ago, so upset that you'd left the hospital early to come see him. That sucked the wind right out of Gaster's sails. He pulled his hand free of his brother's to run a thumb under Sans’ eye, crouching. “Okay, Sans. It's Okay. I Promise, I Have Absolutely No Way to Glean Information From Her. No Way To Learn Something That She Doesn't Want Me To.” He hesitated, then hugged him. “It's Okay.”

Sans hugged him back fiercely, then pulled back, turning to you. “i made jericho swear to secrecy, and swear under Soul-oath that he hadn't retained a copy of this anywhere, or had anyone memorize it or anything else. he’s already sworn to the law of privacy by the crown and their own oaths, and he also swore that he was the only person who worked on it. the rest of the crown scribes are busy with the other scrolls and documents we all found, thank god. limited the fuckin’ damage.” 

Gaster let out a huge sigh mixed with a yawn, like a stressed hound. “You Aren't Helping Me Feel Better About This.” 

“i don't know how to feel better about this. i feel like throwing up, the humans are fucking lucky that they can.” Sans pointed to you. “read the first three translated pages. all the rest is…just hateful. you don't need it, but i won't stop you.” 

“Please…” Gaster’s voice was soft- you turned back from the desk as you reached for the documents, and saw that your man looked scared as Sans tried to tow him out of the room. “It…It Wasn't…Please, Just Tell Me This Much- Did I Do Something That Hurt Our Parents? Were They Angry With Me? I Know Something In It Referenced Our Mother, I Saw Her Name When I Reached For It On The Top Page. Did I Do Something Wrong?” 

Sans visibly fought with his answer, taking so long to figure out what to say that Gaster began rocking from foot to foot. Finally, he shook his head. “no. they weren't angry with you. if anything, all that-” he pointed at the papers now in your hands “-proves is how much they fucking loved you. you didn't do anything to hurt them. you didn't do anything wrong.” 

The longer he could see it, the longer Gaster would agonize over it. Sans towed him out, and you leaned forward with trepidation, fanning out the first few pages.

Jericho the scribe’s handwriting was neat and precise, annotated to show where he’d chosen the best word out of several possible translations. He said he’d even marked places where archaic Monster legal code was referenced, and included photocopies of ancient documents with that entire section of law for easier reference. That neatness, the orderliness of his work, was so at odds with the horror of what those first few pages actually said, that you must have sat there for twenty minutes reading them over and over again- just the first page was bad enough, since you understood enough of Monster political and social dynamics to understand the severity that would necessitate such an introduction. But Jericho had apparently considered one of the last letters in the stack to be the most important, since he'd put it directly under his introduction. 

And the moment you read it and the introductory page both, you understood exactly why Sans was borderline hysterical about everything in front of you. 

Greetings. 

As senior scribe and Crown translator, specializing in the translation of historic contract law and merchant transactions, it is seldom my place to recommend a course of action in reference to a set of documents. But I will do so now.

Destroy these. Do not let them enter the public eye, do not let the Royal Scientist, referenced by name in them, read what was written. Do not let them see the light of day again. Destroy the original and this translation, and allow the world to forget it ever existed.

Some burdens are too heavy to bear.

And then the most important letter, one of thousands within written by their mother’s own hand, neatly transcribed and translated by the head scribe.

...

…you'd have given anything not to ever let Sans take these from you, all those weeks ago in the Script Catacombs.

---

Sans did his best to be distracting…but his best wasn't very good, because he himself was horribly distracted already.

When ten minutes had passed, Gaster began to feel something anxious and ugly in the bottom of his belly.

When half an hour had passed, and you still hadn't come back out, he stood and began to pace. 

Moments later, you opened Sans’ office door. Your face was a practiced calm that Gaster had never seen before, but he knew you well enough to know that it was entirely fake. You raised your voice, calling to one of Sans’ assistants far across the large room. “You there, hello?” They turned, pointing to themselves. “Yes, you. Please bring me a fireproof container about this big, I don't care what-” you showed the size with your hands “-and a lighter or match. Thank you.” 

The Skunk frowned, turning to Sans, but after a moment of hesitation, he nodded. “do it.” 

Gaster clenched his fists in his pockets, purposefully turning away and staring out the window. You weren't a dramatic person. So what in Toriel’s fucking tits could be so bad in that translation that you wanted to burn it?! And did that mean you were going to destroy the entire thing, one of a scant handful of things they had from one of their parents? 

The assistant trotted back in a few minutes later with a large Pyrex baking dish and a lighter- Sans added a bottle from under a cabinet nearby. “turpentine. it's a great accelerant. switch on the wall beside the hood in there turns on the exhaust fan.” 

You nodded, but Sans didn't let go of the bottle when you went to take it. He was staring at the floor. “Give it to me.” Your voice was gentle. “Give it over to me, let me take care of it. You don't have to carry it anymore.” Gaster knew you didn't mean the fucking turpentine. He felt like he was going insane.

Sans finally let go; you hugged him one-armed, then turned and closed his office door behind yourself. The smell of smoke and a burning, acrid chemical soon came out from under the door- the sound of the exhaust fan started moments afterward. You came back out, hugged Sans hard while you whispered something in his ear- he nodded, hiding his face against your shoulder for a moment -then came over to Gaster. “Wanna go home, love?” 

He narrowed his eyes, searching your face. You weren't trying to hide that whatever you'd just read had made you terribly sad, but even that depth of emotion didn't seem to match the haunted expression on Sans’ face, or the need to burn the papers. Still, he nodded, taking your hand- his brother disappeared on the spot, saying he was going to his girlfriend's. 

The drive home was quiet- you were trying your best to keep up normal conversation, but your heart wasn't in it. The anxiety chewed on him like a demon. You stopped at the front door to grab a few packages, then followed him in…and he couldn't stand it anymore. 

“Please.” He took your hands in his own. “This Is Killing Me. I'm Terrified That I Did Something Horrible And Don't Know It. There Were Probably A Hundred Letters In That File, Dozens Of Other Notes. Why Was It About Me? I Know It Was, I Can Feel It…” He waited, chewing the inside of his lip until it ached, while you stared at his chest thinking. 

“It was…a series of negotiations and contracts… related to you. Or rather, your mother refusing them, turning down offer after offer, and those offers escalated to some pretty ridiculous levels. Absolutely nothing in it was bad or wrong with you, or implied that she was upset with you. If anything, every word proved that she loved you with all her fucking heart. I promise that's the truth.” You stepped forward, pressing your face to his chest, your voice small. “Please don't make me say more. I don't agree with Sans, I think you can be told, once some of the more pressing shit recently is taken care of. He read all of it, I just…read sections. You can ask him someday. You're a lot stronger than his concern for you lets him give you credit for.” 

He took a few steps backwards, falling down into one of your cushy armchairs and pulling you down atop him. “I just don't think now is a good time. It will be distracting and sad, it's distracting the fuck out of me, and I don't even want to say that out loud because I don't want to add to your worry about me…and about it.” Leaning up, you kissed him gently. “Once the Mountain nonsense is taken care of, I'll tell you.”

“Why Destroy It?” He tried hard to not let it sound like an accusation, because he didn't mean it as one. He just…he had to understand. “Why Not Lock It Away Somewhere? Do You…Do You Really Not Trust Me To Leave It Alone?”

The immediate surprise then anxiety on your face mollified him- it was too raw to be fake. “What? Honey, of course I trust you. You're the most controlled man I've ever met, I truly believe I could have sat it in the middle of this floor and you'd never have touched it. You might have sat on the couch there and stared at it all night, but you'd never have touched it.” Your gentle kiss on his forehead soothed him a little. “I destroyed it because the head scribe that translated it- the only scribe that ever read or translated it I might remind you, per their own admission- advised that we do so. Said that it wasn't worth having other people find, that the strife it would cause would be purposeless. I agreed with them completely.”

He tucked you under his chin to hide his expression, for he knew that one thing you'd said had been a lie. Your trust in him made his Soul sing, even though he knew the ugly truth about himself; in your imaginary scenario, he would have read it the very second he was sure you were gone. He would have memorized exactly how it sat, read it front to back before replacing it in the same position, and then hidden that he ever had.

For Gaster was controlled, was a master of himself, in absolutely every way but one.

He couldn't stand not knowing something. 

It was the flaw in his personality that had led to the Extractor, to the D-Lab itself, to his earlier studies that had led up to that final desperate project…and so many other landmarks of his life besides. It was a gift and a curse. Like an obsessive-compulsive checking their doors thirty times before going to bed and touching their own face just the right way before they could get up, he had to pick, and prod, and peel at things, until he understood them.

But for you? You and Sans? 

He'd try.

-

He lasted three days.

Three days of pretending he was, of course, fairly concerned. Three days of forcing himself to believe that he was nervous, but trusted you and Sans. Three days of pretending that he didn't want to blow his proverbial brains all over the walls, so gut-wrenching and painful was the anxiety. 

Three days of begging off golf with Papyrus, three days of not even going into the surface center to check the growth experiments. For he knew that if he so much as left your house, touched his car…that would be it.

But then…he couldn't take it anymore.

He broke Thursday night, sneaking out of your bed, getting dressed quietly, and driving into the research center. He used a physical key, not his directors keycard that would record the entry swipe in the system. He even used the maintenance worker’s code for the security system- late night visits to repair office equipment or do deep cleans weren't uncommon, after all. He knew Sans kept a key to his personal office taped to the top of the central drawer of one of the tables outside of the door. Gaster took a moment to look very carefully, checking for hairs, powders.. any physical signs that a person had touched either the key or the door behind him. Finding none, he slipped the key out and unlocked the office door. 

Just as he'd expected, no one had been there since Monday night; the large pyrex dish with its heap of smelly ash at the bottom still sat under the fume hood in the back corner of the room. Approaching it, Gaster swallowed nervously. He very seldom did this kind of magic. Because of how much power it took, but also for the danger…and, if he was honest, the sheer implications. He hadn't been exactly proud of or connected to that heightened, powerful side of himself…not until you'd come along. Not until your unwavering support had given him the idea that maybe he deserved to be special in some small (huge) way.

So it felt like an extra betrayal when he held his hands out, took a breath, and REWOUND the pile of ash, PAUSING it once it was whole and free of turpentine, praying and praying that his brother's bizarre temporal sense wouldn't extend to such an isolated anomaly on the timeline. Silently, the temporal field he’d created between his hands sped faster and faster, restoring the transcript to its whole, unburnt form. Of course, he saw the scribe’s warning first, reading it quickly …god help him, god help him

God help him.

He punched himself in the thigh as he threw that page aside and stared down at the stack of documents, hating that he was about to do this. But he didn't know what else to do. The scribe’s warning made his belly cramp, but even that didn't stop him. 

So he picked one of the top pages at random…not knowing that it was the worst possible one. 

Q'orianka Illarni

Eagle of the Red Dawn

Godqueen of Corone’tir 

Daughter of the Thirteen Daughters

You are sick. 

Sick in heart, mind, and soul. 

Sick in a way that there is no cure or relief for, except the death that you have long deserved. Creation will be a blessed place once you are removed from it.

Trust that this is the last communication you will ever see from me. Believe that any messenger you send will be slain, any letter that you write will be burned and the bird given in sacrifice to the Star Temple. I am far past offense, and into an anger and disgust with you beyond mortal ken.

First, you offered riches. Kingdoms. A slap to my face, as if what you were asking for is anything short of priceless. All of the gold on this planet, all the gems that you can dig from her weary soil, are but a pauper's penny in comparison to the treasure that you even dare assume could be sold. What was your last offer, again? Oh yes, a nation. A vassal nation that you inherited on your aunt's side, and all of the people within its boundaries. The equivalent of over two-hundred thousand slaves, all living in a country so distant from you that you barely even visit it. 

I refused.

That you then dared try to appeal to me as a mother, when so many of your own babes lay in the ground for the crime of not meeting your definition of perfection, was despicable. That you tried further to appeal to emotion, claiming an eternal loneliness that you yourself are the sole cause and force behind, only increased my disgust. 

Every modicum of your loneliness is your own fault. Every crumb of your own misery pours from your own grasping, grabbing hand, like a toddler snatching food off a table of kings. You could have the unique joy of watching countless families descend from you into eternity, watching your own bloodline as a benevolent, eternal force there to uplift and guide, as I shall. What a pity then that over one hundred and thirty men lay buried within the shadow of your fortress city, one hundred and thirty men that you married and pledged your love and heart to, only to strangle them in their sleep when they didn't give you what you wanted.

And the infants, Q'orianka. The babies. Why not let them live, to be adopted by a family who would love them? Any number of Monster families would have gladly taken a whole litter of children, you know this. I'm sure you have countless people in your own kingdom desperate for a child of their own. 

So why do they lay dead beside their fathers?

…

Now, your most recent demands have turned to threats. The ceasing of trade. The promise of reprisal. The threat of war.

War, between our peoples. War, between allies of eons.

War, because of your selfishness.

Fine. If you would have war, so be it. You attack a defenseless foe, a foe who holds no ill will toward you. And in this act, your madness would be complete. You would doom yourself to rot for an eternity of loneliness.

So I promise you, scarlet sorceress, that there is no threat, no guarantee of strife or war, that would convince me to sell my child to you. A concept you wouldn't understand, having no love or empathy in your own heart for your children. All dead and rotting as they are by your hand. 

No.

You will wed no Maegister to be your slave-bull, breeding you with immortal children.

You will not touch my son.

Die in the loneliness that creation has cursed you with.

I, For’eji Verdana Cassinni, have spoken. 

…

…

…

Gaster, with shaking hands, let the magic fade…he stumbled backwards, a pile of ash sitting in the darkness before him once more. His chest heaved as his stomach wrenched, trying to dispel contents that it no longer contained, trying to wretch with an organ that it no longer possessed. He was like an animal, his eyes so wide that the darkness within felt like it threatened to crawl out over his face like a hoard of insects, the light of his eye gone- he whipped his head away, but the shadows in the room grew sharp and tormenting, reaching, straining- NO! He threw himself forward again, trying to flee from them, clutching the edge of the counter…staring right down into the ashes again. 

It was because of him. In some stupid, petty, sick, insane way, it had all been because of him.

Because of him. 

Because of him.

Because she’d wanted him. 

A war, because she’d wanted him. Hundreds of thousands of deaths, because she’d wanted him, a city destroyed because she’d wanted him, a people decimated, forgotten, trapped-

Agony, a pain born of fear, of horror, of misplaced responsibility and the knowledge that he was wrong to have sought this out, wrong to have wanted to know, that he should have listened to you, should have listened to Sans…it shot through his Soul like a bullet, searing him, furthering the damage that had been started on the experimental floor of the crop lab all that time ago. Building building building. hot pain, agonizing pain, his Soul was damaged, wounded, why had he done this why hadn’t he listened, please let him forget, let this be false, he was sorry, so sorry, please forgive him please let him forget, let it not be real PLEASE-

He tripped over his own feet as he tried to back away more, cracking his skull on the corner of San's heavy wooden desk as he fell.

Gaster's vision went dark.

Notes:

Arc 3 begins.

Oh my.

(Comments help author hearts go doki doki- let me know what you think! And follow me on tumblr @beewritesstuff for updates, nonsense, and fanart!)

Chapter 24: Emergency Treatment

He woke up with a thunderclap of pain as Toriel bundled him into her SUV- she pushed his disoriented, clutching hands away with gentle efficiency. “Stop.” Her voice was firm. “You are injured and confused, and incredibly lucky I was scrying when this happened. Be quiet; be still.”

Memories of what he'd seen, what he'd learned , flooded back into his mind- they'd been blessedly absent for a few precious moments. He had no idea how much time had passed, where he was; he grabbed her hands in his, dizzy as he tried to sit up in his desperation. “Toriel, Tor, Wait-Oh Gods-” he released her just as fast to clutch his head, jumping as he felt fractured bone grind against bone under his hands. “Pl-Please, I-”

“ Tacē! Be still!” She forced him back down, his head pillowed on a bundled up pile of coats and a blanket from the car- he realized she'd folded down the seats to leave him enough room. “Be silent and still, do not move.” Grimacing, she pulled his hands away from his own skull. They were covered in dust. “I must get you home to where I have power stored. Damn it, I should have brought my gems with me…I could not foresee the nature of the emergency, only that one was occurring…” 

Gaster fought the urge to clutch his own head; even the tiny motions of breathing were making the broken shards of bone grind against each other. God help him, what would driving feel like? It made him delirious, completely out of control of his own words and actions- like a distant watcher, he observed himself acting in a way he never would, and could do naught to stop it. “Toriel, I-I…It's Because Of Me, It’s All Because Of Me, I-”

“ Quiet. Tell me whatever it is when I am sure of your survival-” Her eyes widened as uncontrolled tears began to fall down his cheeks. “Gaster?!”

“I…I Don't Want To, I-” Delirium had set in; he didn't want to survive, he didn't want to be there, he didn't want to be seen. Leave him, leave him behind, let him fall back into pieces- why did life insist on saving him, again and again??? Toriel hesitated, then, shaking her head grimly, tucked his legs up into the vehicle. He groaned at the pain the jostling caused, somehow simultaneously losing track of time and feeling every fucking second as she started her car and began to drive as carefully as she could- he prayed for unconsciousness to take him again, but of course it didn't. Over the noise of his own skull grinding and crunching and the road beneath them, he heard her whispering voice like he was listening through water- his head was swimming, his eyesight dimming and brightening over and over.

“...and we are weary with healing…we are broken from silence. We are waking, but we are afraid. Star-born Ones, speak peace into our blood, give me strength in the darkness, give me faith in the emptiness-”

She was whispering the pleading words to the Starlight Canticle, he realized dimly…it had been years since he'd stepped foot in a Planetarium. Years since he'd heard it sung. Then Toriel swore sharply as she swerved to avoid something in the road, and it wrenched him sideways, smacking his temple into the trim.

He remembered nothing else. 

---

Toriel met her husband at the door to their surface house, her old friend clutched tight to her chest. He was so tall, so imposing in personality and temper…yet he was so small in her arms at that moment, injured in the worst possible place- the exact impact point of his fall six years ago, not to mention whatever else had wounded him so severely in his very Soul. Now he curled in on himself like a fading house spider, trembling and weak, his body failing. Asgore had already prepared one of their guest rooms, her work basket sitting open and ready on a table at the foot of the bed, a brazier of hot charcoal already burning pungent herbs, filling the room with smoke. Frisk sat cross-legged outside the door, a golden miracle glimmering between their hands. Waiting. Toriel wished she wouldn't need her child’s gift, but the future had cracked under the weight of whatever had happened to Gaster. Had fractured, splitting into two careening paths with countless connections in between; one hopeful, one desolate, and it had clouded her visions completely. She hesitated for a moment at the doorway, then looked to Frisk. “Do it, please. Before I start on him.”

The unspoken, ‘In case this is the wrong choice’ hung in the air like sulfur.

But Frisk only nodded, closing their eyes for a moment- divine wind filled the room, ruffling hair, fur, and clothing, making the curtains on the open window shift and blow…and then the miracle faded as they released their power. Standing, they touched Gaster’s head, sadness on their teenaged (yet timeless) face. Then they looked up at their parents with a question in their eyes.

“We don't know,” Asgore murmured, as Toriel carried Gaster in and laid him out carefully on the bed. “Your mother was in the basement, scrying for paths to carry us through the Mountain crisis. Something threw her from her visions; showed her he was hurt. We don't know why, or what happened.” 

Frisk looked at the frail Skeleton now arranged limply in the middle of the large mattress, then raised their hands to sign. “His Soul…”

“I know.” It burned Asgore to be so close to the other man in his state, to feel the pain and damage that had been done to the very core of one of his oldest subjects, one of the most precious members of his people. It wasn't just Gaster's body that was wounded, and the King's nature raised his hackles, called power into his hands- it wanted to attack the thing that had harmed his wife’s beloved friend. 

But…it didn't look like there was anything to attack. Nothing to defend Gaster from. So all he could do was clench his fists and look on, feeling useless as his wife first tilted the other man's head to one side so the damage was facing upward, swiftly wrenched open his shirt, then began pulling precious herbs and gems from her basket, crushing the magically-preserved stems between her fingers and dusting the crystals between her claws. She started chanting softly as she spread the mixtures first over Gaster's bare chest, and then his skull; the impact crater on his temple began to glow, highlighting every crack and missing chip of bone.

After a few minutes, he could see strain in the lines at the corners of her eyes. “Ri?”

“Wake Asriel.” Her voice was distant- she was caught in the healer's trance. “I…need him.” 

Frisk ran- a minute later, they came jogging back with Asriel in tow, the young Monster wide-eyed as he rubbed sleep away. “Wha-” Then he looked into the bedroom. “Oh holy shit.” He rushed to his mother's side, staring down at Gaster for a moment before reaching out and putting his hands over hers, where she held them above the man’s fractured skull. The crimson glow of her magic suddenly tripled in brightness.

After a terrible amount of time passed- long enough for dawn to show through the window- Gaster stirred…he groaned weakly, reaching up to his head. Asgore was there in an instant to press his hands back down, smiling as the man’s single eyelight faded dimly into view, shifting around as if he was dizzy or disoriented. It wouldn't be surprising if he was, but gods was it harder to tell on Skeletons than any other Monster. Asgore smiled gently, hoping he was reading the other man right. “Howdy, welcome back. You just lay nice and still, Tor’s gonna take good care of you.”

Asriel slid a vial into his hand that glowed a faint silvery-blue. Duskbloom extract. “The whole thing,” he whispered, going back to helping his mother. Asgore nodded, then touched Gaster’s cheek gently, drawing the man's attention back. “Here you go. Some good medicine for you, right from the Queen’s own hand. Open up, she adds plenty of sugar-”

Gaster blinked, his jaw working, then opened his mouth obediently. Asgore let the glowing liquid slowly trickle in, then sat the vial aside as he swallowed, grimacing…and he could see the drug begin to take effect. The strain of agony faded from Gaster's face…but then sorrow replaced it. He reached for his King with desperation- Asgore let him draw him down, going to one knee to be close to the man. 

What Gaster confessed next in his harsh, whispering voice left all of them wide-eyed and staring; it startled Asriel so badly that he lost his grip on his magic for a second, the spell fading. Toriel grunted with effort, and he hurried to join with her power again, but he looked gaunt with shock.

The Skeleton's voice cracked on tears near the end of the telling, as he began to apologize ; apologize that his family hadn't sold him into a slave marriage to a demon, apologize that he hadn't been used as some sort of sick breeding stock for a mad woman. He closed his eyes, trying to turn his face into the pillow to hide, the words stuttering out as his throat caught.

Asgore pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed them away gently, brushing invisible dirt from the other man's features as an excuse as he gathered himself. Once he was sure of his voice, he shook his head. “... none of that is your fault, old friend. None of that is because of you. You can't, you can't, blame yourself for what another person does-” 

“They'd All Be Alive-” Gaster's voice sounded like gravel, it was so hoarse. “My Mother, My Father, H-Helvetica, King Oberon, Queen Titania, Jessá, Cyrus, Oh Gods, Cyrus… Mare, Lýs-” His throat failed but he continued mouthing Maegister names silently, the royals of their family and friends he'd once known, the breath catching and churning in his neck, his eyes staring blindly into tortured memories no matter how hard Asgore tried to catch his attention again.

Over his head, Toriel caught her husband's eye, reaching for another vial of medicine- black poppy extract. Even a Boss Monster couldn't stay awake if they took it; it would let the poor man rest for hours. She handed it to him, gesturing toward Gaster. “Give that to him, then go and call the heralds.” Her voice was cold, her eyes full of hatred at what Gaster had just told them. About what had been demanded of him, of his family, by the woman who had doomed them all. “Send it out.” 

Asgore blinked, hesitating for a moment…he knew exactly what she was referring to, but…

Then he looked down at Gaster again, who had raised his hands and was weeping into them. A man who had faced down every stress and tragedy of their Kingdom with a tenacity greater than the fiercest bulldog, finally brought low by a single mistake, by reading something he shouldn't have. Who could possibly blame him for reading it? It would drive anyone insane not to know. 

No. The fault lay with her. 

He nodded grimly to his wife. 

---

Your worry increased every hour over the next two days that Gaster didn't answer his phone. He hadn't been there when you'd woken around six in the morning to get a drink; his keys had been missing from the bowl beside the backdoor. Now it was almost night time a day later, and you still hadn't heard anything from him; your messages had been left unread. Papyrus had no idea where he was, and Sans had his phone turned off completely- he'd sent a blanket group text to twenty people that morning, you included, that he was taking a vacation before he burnt out. 

Feeling terribly unsettled and not knowing exactly why, you finally decided to head into town and grab something for dinner… a last minute decision had you turning toward the Mountain, to the Monster section of the city. Gaster particularly liked one of the restaurants there, perhaps you could…

It took you a solid ten minutes to figure out what was going on, as traffic slowed to a crawl and people craned their heads out their car windows- countless Monsters were in the streets, crowding around street corners or in the doorways of shops. You finally pulled into a fifteen minute parking spot and got out, joining them…

A King’s Command had gone out. The first in literal centuries.

Hung in paper at every intersection in the Capital, delivered verbally to every shop and vendor by royal heralds and on every street corner, posted on every Monster news network and social media with highest priority, and delivered by flying letter to every address registered to the Crown. You checked your email and found it there too, sent out that morning- you probably had a fluttering, origami announcement waiting at your university office. It was only because of your distraction and worry for Gaster that you'd managed to miss it so far.

“ALL able-bodied citizens with experience in exploration, demolition, stone or ground manipulation, the sensing of magic, or the tracking of spells, are to report to the castle between dawn and dusk tomorrow, the thirteenth of October! All non-essential work in the Capital is to be put on hold for the duration of the emergency! The Crown Treasury will organize restitution for lost wages and income after the immediate crisis is ended! All volunteers will be suitably compensated for their efforts!

This is mandatory service for all able-bodied citizens with experience in the fields of…

The announcement repeated the list of required backgrounds and skills- you blinked, worry making your hands and feet feel cold. What had happened, what had changed, that could have…

Oh god, Gaster. Demolition, stone cutters, explorers…the Mountain project he was working on, oh no-

…

Like an omen, your phone began to ring.

-

He stirred when you crawled into bed beside him, turning toward you in his sleep like a flower toward the sun, and relief sang through you. The sight of his head bandaged, though, still hurt you in your chest like you'd been punched; your strong man…so capable, so powerful… looked so frail in that moment. The bandages were embroidered with runes, glowing faintly in the darkness of the Dreemurrs's guest bedroom. 

Toriel had told you what had happened the moment you arrived the night before, looking haggard. Her son, the prince, had fussed over her, putting a thick quilt over her shoulders and food before her on the table as she spoke. When he heard you'd been on your way to get something to eat before their call, you'd soon had a plate before you as well. It was traditional Monster food; roasted root vegetables, mushrooms, and translucent cave fish in a faintly purple sauce. The meal had shined with added magic, far more than you'd ever seen Monster food treated with…and this was Mountain food, why had they-

“He may draw power off of you, subconsciously.” Toriel spoke before you even had the chance to open your mouth,  seeing what you were staring at. “We are…priming you, so to speak. Topping off the well before a drought begins. Bonded pairs borrow magic back and forth, and his Soul will reach for yours…we hope.” She sounded exhausted. 

What she told you then made you sick to your stomach, though you forced the food down, blinking as the faint shimmers on the edges of your vision- glimmering hints of spell work and wards- sharpened into crystal clarity. They must have put a thousand dollars worth of essence powder into the food, and your newly heightened Soul drank it in. The effect only grew when Prince Asriel handed you a cup of tea that had been equally treated- you grimaced at the bitterness of so much magical essence at once, but choked it down quickly.

From the moment the two of you had left the research center after reading those horrible documents, a growing sense of wrongness, of worry, had filled you. Three times, you'd tried to broach the topic of telling Gaster what had been in those papers with Sans…and three times, the other man had been adamant that the two of you shouldn't. That his brother didn't need to know, that it would only add to the strain of his work…

So of course, as Toriel explained, your lover had instead learned about it in the dark, alone, after three days of mounting fear and desperation…instead of surrounded by family that loved him, and voices of reason to drive back the admittedly very understandable guilt. Not that the guilt was correct. But you could completely understand why he felt it. How he’d done it, you didn't know. That was the one thing Toriel had gracefully glossed over, explaining it was merely a particularly esoteric aspect of Gaster’s magic and saying nothing further. No one had told Sans yet, and no one planned to for quite a while- he'd left for the beach with his woman the day before, fleeing the situation without even knowing it.

Then, to make matters far worse, the poor fucker had tripped of all things, cracking his head into the hard corner of a table in the worst possible place he could have. He'd lain for at least two hours before Toriel had figured out where he was. 

Behind all of you, Papyrus sat on the royal’s couch, having recently arrived himself and reading a book with a ridiculous little pair of pince-nez on his ‘nose’. He was the one who had said, quite firmly, that his other brother didn't need to be informed of everything just yet. Not that he didn't want to tell him…but that he was almost positive Sans would come back and absolutely blow up over the situation, which was the last thing Gaster needed at the moment. 

The first night, he hadn’t so much as moved. The man had barely breathed, his chest rising and falling so shallowly that you couldn’t hardly believe it was carrying enough air to his Soul to sustain it.

Now he shifted as you carefully slid into the sheets beside your partner for the second night, your eyesight glimmering with another meal's supercharge to your newly heightened magical senses- the gash over Gaster's Soul almost made you squint. It was somehow bright in a sickeningly dark way, as if it was too dark to comfortably look at. It was preventing his skull from healing itself, Toriel had said. Emotional wounds crippled Monsters like no physical wound could. 

His breath quickened- light fluttered into his eye. The moment he realized it was you, he looked away in shame…but you only pulled him close. The time for hesitation and caution was long over. When he started to try to speak, you shook your head. “We never should have kept it from you, Sans was wrong. That isn't his fault, but he was still wrong. Of course you had to know, of course it would drive you crazy not knowing what was going on…” 

With caution for his injury, you pressed your lips to his forehead for a minute or two in silence, your thoughts racing as he roused a bit…and what you said next surprised you. It wasn't at all what you'd meant to say, what you'd rehearsed in your mind time and time again, words meant to be soothing, calming…no.

Instead, it was the truth. 

“I'll kill her.” You whispered it through your teeth and into his skull, your voice so cold it was sharp in the air. “How fucking dare she even...” You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath- it was no time for this anger that had brewed inside you for days without an outlet, the outrage and disgust cooking in your heart at what that sick, twisted bitch had wanted. No, you couldn't understand what kind of woman could commit a genocide against an entire race of people, planning to trap and torture them for an eternity… but you had a far clearer picture of who that woman was, now. Despite being so much frailer than him, so much weaker in physical strength and power, you felt an almost animal protectiveness for your partner- you wanted to sink your teeth into the woman, wanted to claw at her, wanted to throw stones and scream and mob her. “Sick, twisted bitch. I love you so much, I swear to god I…’

Gaster hesitated…and then put his arms around you, raising his head to meet your eye when you cut yourself off, breathing hard and feeling a bit embarrassed and terribly angry at the same time. “...My Dear, I…I’m Sorry. Please Don’t Be So Upset Because Of Me, I-” 

“Q'orianka Illarni needs to die.” Blue-violet power steamed off your lips this time as you spoke, illuminating his gaunt face in wavering glimmers as it dissipated into the air. “She can be killed- there has to be a way. Nothing in nature can exist forever without decaying or changing. She doesn't have a kingdom of guards watching her back every second. She doesn't have a hundred lifetimes of spells and charms and whatever defending her. She's rotting somewhere at the core of the Mountain, and she's vulnerable in a way she never was all those centuries ago. All we have to do is make it so sudden that she doesn't have the chance to react. And Frisk says no one has made any other saves but them, at least for as long as they can remember.” The young Mage had been in quiet conversation with Papyrus the entire time you'd sat with Toriel. Planning. “They said they'd know if she had. There's a reason for that. Frisk does it almost without thinking, multiple times a day, they said. If she could, she would too. To ensure all her hard work and effort doesn't get undone.” 

He blinked once, twice, his eye tracking the magic that faintly left you with your words. “...Holy Angel Above, You're Telling The Truth. Not Just That You Believe It. But It's Actually The Functional Truth, A Viable Future.” It broke your heart to hear how hoarse he was. “We Can Use That. We Can Literally Use Logical Deduction And Your Speech Combined To Narrow Down Our Next Steps, Fishing For The Best Course Of…Of Action…I…”

And then his face crumpled.

“I'm So Sorry. For All Of This, For…For Then, For Now, I…” He bent his head again, hiding from your eyes. “I'm Not A Senseless, Illogical Fool…I’m Not A Madman…” 

“I love you. You aren't any of those things.” 

His shoulders hitched as he buried his face in your neck. “Then Why Do I Blame Myself? All I Can See Are Their Faces…Accusing Me. H-Hating Me.”

You sighed hugely, hurting for him. “I… what would help you right now, love? What do you need?”

His answer was immediate. “The Truth.”

You nodded, and began to voice things that you'd pondered quietly for months. “The truth is that you are a bizarre, hyper-evolved member of your race, with probably some weird mental and emotional aspects that most Monsters don't have, things that let your memory hold centuries of information and emotion without either losing almost any clarity or edge that they might have had.” You began rocking him in place a tiny bit. “The truth is that you woke up surrounded by corpses at the human equivalent of twenty years old, literally laying on top of the Monster equivalent of your mother's dead body, holding the…the embryos of your brothers in your hands. Then you spent three years just struggling to find enough to eat to survive, to make enough magic to sustain those embryos-” you were drawing on Sans’ memories and knowledge now, filling the gaps in your awareness of their background with his “-and the second your society, of which you were immediately shoved into a leadership role simply due to what you are, reached a point of managing to survive without every second being a desperate fight to live, you started working your fucking ass off to try to help every single person in it.”

Gaster tried to pull away- you didn't let him. “The truth is that you invented the steam engine, several fields of metallurgy, and ultimately geothermic energy production, four hundred years before humans did, and you did it trapped inside a fucking Mountain with no resources, no help, nothing. Nothing else but yourself and a few other people, and those changed constantly over the years.” You squeezed him, trying to press your love into him. “No one walks away from all of that without damage. No one in the entire fucking universe would survive what you have, and come out the other side whole and unhurt. Of course you blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. Of course you have trouble forgetting the bad things, letting go of negativity- you said it yourself, every boss Monster has a set reason for existing, a specialty niche that they fill in the biology of your people. You were made to learn. A living encyclopedia, a time-resistant vault of knowledge and progress. Honest to god, it's a miracle…and a testament to how strong and stubborn and amazing you are…that you made it so long without faltering. Without the weight of it building up so…so lethally. Who could fault you for getting tired? What you learned…Gaster, it would fuck with anyone.”

Gaster was quiet for so long that you wondered if he'd fallen asleep during your quiet tirade. Then-

“Toriel And Asgore Don't Remember Almost Anything From Those Years, Or Even From A Century Or Two Ago. Big Events, Sure. But They Have To Check Their Records For Anything Less. The Same With Gerson. He's The Royal Historian, And He Keeps The Best Records, The Most Organized Writings, Of Anyone I've Ever Met. His Eye For Detail Is Incredible. But Even He Doesn't Remember Things Like I Do. They Don't Bother Him, They Don't Stay…Fresh.” His voice got even softer. ‘Please Don't Be Mad At Me For…For All Of This. I'm Sorry, For Everything That Happened Here.” 

You leaned down and kissed him gently. “I love you so much. I'm sorry for my part in all of this, that I didn't listen to my instincts and tell you despite what Sans said. Though I do truly think he only had your best interests at heart.”

“I Know He Did, I Do…I…” He hesitated, then sighed enormously, some tiny bit of tension leaving him as he sagged into your hold. “I'm Scared That You'll Think Less Of Me, Seeing Me Like This. I Don't Like Crying Like A Fucking Infant In Front Of You...The Second Time In So Many Months.” Finally, just as Toriel had hoped, you felt a slight trickling, emptying sensation in your chest- he was finally drawing magic off of you to heal himself. Thank god- it had started to itch . 

Feeling infinitely better just at that tiny improvement, you smiled. “Worried that I won't think you're manly enough if I see you tear up a few times? Don't worry, there's barely enough room inside of me for your manliness as it is.” He snorted faintly, shaking his head- it emboldened you. “Perhaps you haven't heard. The man I'm dating? Gaster, it's insane. You'd never believe it until you saw it with your own eyes, biggest one I've ever seen in my life. He's handsome, he's generous, and it took three months for him to even be able to fit all of his-” 

“Oh My God-” He rolled his eye, then grunted and clapped a hand to his skull at the motion, but you still had to smile. He was doing better at managing the darkness, the lure of apathy- something like this would have left him miserable and struggling for weeks, once. Now, you could get at least a touch of rough amusement out of him, less than two days after a life-altering event. There was a small basket of vials on the bedside table, each neatly labeled in the Queen’s beautiful handwriting. “Here. Take one of these- she said you need to sleep to recover. I’ll be here. Harvest break started today, if you remember. And I took off at the hospital.”

He scowled, taking the little glowing vial from your hand. “All This Fuss And Bother For Me…”

“Wouldn’t you do the same for me?” You fixed him with a sharp look, ensuring he actually took all of the draught. “I can be very accident prone Gaster, you should know that. You have a literal eternity of broken bones, flat tires, and weird flu germs to look forward to. Toriel says your spooky Boss Monster powers don't protect me from getting sick, the sickness just won’t kill me. And I’m a very demanding patient. Constant ginger ales and foot rubs, and don’t even think about touching my tits when you-”

He barked out a sharp, startled laugh halfway into swallowing…which led to him loudly choking on the vial of eerily-glowing medicine. Toriel’s polite knock was nearly-instant, as Gaster tried to clutch his head and hack at the same time, while you did your best not to giggle. “We’re okay! Wrong pipe, I think.”

The door opened a tiny crack- a delicate white snout appeared. “I see…listen to me, you two. Absolutely no canoodling for at least a day or two, I mean it.” Toriel’s voice was soft, and deeply amused. “I know how irresistible they are when they look so piteous and wan. Behave…and good night. I do hope you will be able to take him home in the morning, once I ensure the calcium matrix has started to reform. Make the poor man sleep…and get some yourself too. There are busy, busy days ahead.”

Feeling much like a teenager who’d gotten caught with her hand down her boyfriend’s pants, you murmured your own good night to her…and the second the door closed, Gaster let go of his head with one hand and put it up your shirt. 

“Absolutely not!”

For the first time since that horrible evening in Sans’ office, you saw him smile a real smile; strained, yet full of mischief. “What A Callous Nurse You Are…I’m Lodging A Complaint.”

---

Toriel settled into bed next to her husband, sticking her freezing toes against his warmly furred legs and grinning as he grunted.

“I do think that she is the best thing that could have ever happened to him.”

Asgore’s voice was sleepily amused. “You know Ri…there isn’t a chance that they obey your instructions.”

“Oh, I am counting on that.” She snuggled up into his strong arms as he turned to face her. “These next few weeks…I have no sight at all. The future remains bifurcated still; split at the moment that he learned the truth. It already nearly killed him- as if the lifestream is being manipulated somehow, for him to fall so perfectly on the one, single spot that could slay him, in a moment of cruel weakness. So now…either we succeed…or we fail, utterly.”

“Well…sounds like nothing’s really changed, then. Has it?”

She shook her head. “One thing has.”

“Oh?”

Toriel gazed up into her husband’s crimson eyes. “Thanks to her…he wants to win. He wants to win for her, if not himself. And I don’t think she can comprehend love like that.”

He chuckled, low in his throat. “You know…

…I almost feel bad for the old bitch.”

Notes:

The poor red mage don't even know what's coming for her....

...does she?

(Comments help author hearts go doki doki- let me know what you think! And follow me on tumblr @beewritesstuff for updates, nonsense, and fanart!)

Chapter 25: Loose Ends

For thirteen days Gaster stayed in bed, hardly able to even sit upright due to the sharp pain and sudden dizziness that would strike. 

For thirteen days he languished, drifting in and out of fitful, magically-induced sleep, waking only to eat a few bites here and there. 

For thirteen days, he dreamed ugly dreams, waking to your arms wrapped around him at night or your presence in the house during the day. Oracular dreams, perhaps; a Maegister's instincts combining with his foresight to deliver disturbing, half-remembered prophecies.

On the fourteenth day he came to sudden, jarring wakefulness, blinking rapidly. It was sometime past midnight, and he could see the dim glow of your bedside lamp as you typed out lesson plans beside him. He tried to speak, then coughed himself hoarse- the next moment, a bottle of Mountain water was in his hands. He downed it in seconds, feeling better than he had in days- your constant attention and care had soothed the wound on his Soul, and thus the wound on his head had been able to mend. 

The moment he surfaced from the bottle and cleared his throat, he turned to you.

“W…Where Is Sans?”

You frowned. “I thought he… said he was going on vacation? Somewhere down south on the coast, um…”

“He Lied.”

---

Deaf, for the moment, to his brother's sudden realization, Sans took a deep, steadying breath,  and flickered through space itself into another gap in the stone that he’d sensed, some fifty feet down and forty to his right. He hadn't lied, really. He was on vacation…technically. 

He'd put in the request and everything.

Blind teleportations weren't the safest experiment, but so far his luck had held. And the deeper he went, strangely enough, the more the Mountain seemed to help him. Silent instincts, directing him to the next empty space. Allowing him to build a map in his mind infinitely faster and more complete than any number of excavation crews could. Occasionally, early on in his explorations over those first few days, he did come across royal expeditions. The groups were always accompanied by at least three royal guards, a few members of the stonecutters guild, and as many diggers and magically-gifted tunnelers as could be found. The Crown had gotten a fantastic turn-out in response to the King's Command- thousands of Monsters flocked to the Mountain every day to be organized into exploratory groups and excavation teams. But they couldn't compare to his freedom of movement.

If he was an honest man (which he tried his best to avoid), he'd never been particularly religious, uninterested in the services of the Star Temple or any of the various spiritualities that Monsters followed. Yet it was impossible not to feel a measure of divine awe being so deep in his ancestral home. With each step, power subtly swirled and danced around him, like eddys in a stream around his Soul. He'd prowled through the angles and empty spaces of reality for the past two weeks, flickering so constantly between existence and nonexistence that he sometimes realized, with a dull buzz of concern in his belly, that he'd forgotten to fully reincorporate himself again. The bizarre half-life existence had its own benefits, though, as the man became less of a person and more of a ghost in the code- he rarely needed to eat, or sleep, or do anything that he ‘should have’. The few times he had, he'd just settled down on a particularly comfy little rock for a power nap. It was a purifying period, a time of unconscious condensing within his magic and Soul alike, as he wandered through impossibly ancient caverns and tunnels of the Mountain’s roots. A hundred made by Monster hands, yet a thousand more natural to the landmark itself. The arteries and veins of the mother Mountain. 

There was a peace to it, honestly. He knew what he was looking for, and he knew it was down here somewhere …so what was the problem? Everyone else was busy doing other things, and this was something he could do that no one else could. 

Occasionally he'd flicker back up to the surface in stages, stopping for a good, greasy burger at Grillby’s in the wee hours of the morning. Oddly, the man was always up when Sans arrived, no matter the hour, and always had a fresh bottle of ketchup and a good ruby stout waiting for him. Some bizarre aspect of Fire Elemental hospitality magic, Sans assumed, and didn't pay it any mind beyond that. They both had a job to do, right?

And so things went, for nearly two weeks. Sans meandered deeper and deeper, through wonders that might have never been seen again by Monster eyes. He stumbled across murals that were quite literally thousands of years old, depicting legends and great feats of heroism that Monsterkind had forgotten, and wandered down holy roads paved with white granite countless millennia ago that dead ended in rockfalls or long-dead portals. He practiced jokes in caverns filled with stalagmites that were ten stories tall, and made friends with the increasingly more esoteric and strange life that called the ancient wombs of the Mother Mountain home. 

On the tenth day of his excursion, he’d passed an intangible dividing line, like a current in the deep ocean, and things truly began to become wondrous. Plant-like fronds and corals grew up the walls and across the high and low ceilings, yanking their ferny branches back into protective crystalline shells as he passed, then tentatively poking the appendages back out in his wake. Serpents made of human skulls and metal spines slithered up flat-topped rocks or rested coiled on the cool stone, watching him pass with empty eye sockets. Tiny, scaled lizards with gliding wings and glowing throats trotted along curiously behind him, chattering and crowding in close when he reached down to them in greeting, always accompanied by tiny globular, sac-like creatures that floated weightlessly on puffs of spores. Sans passed these and countless other little wonders besides, more than he could ever remember or name. 

He'd never seen something so alien that felt so welcoming. The heart of the Mountain was truly a testing ground of magical potential, a place where the innate powers of creation played with new, fantastical ideas of life, and the Mother welcomed him with the same gentle acceptance as She did all Her other children.

Earlier that day, his fourteenth spent below ground in the magically stretched space of the Mountain, one odd, repeating feature made him stop dead in awe when he finally realized what he was looking at, despite the heaviness of his reason for this long exploration. Small, human-shaped alcoves carved into the rock on either side of one long, cavernous hall, both ends of which had unfortunately been blocked completely over with sediment and long-crumbled stone. Each was decorated lovingly, uncut and precious gems somehow pressed into the stone next to ancient, undisturbed pottery and what must have once been strings of beads and jewelry. They called to him gently, a shared nature so similar to his own that they could only be one thing- the origin of the Skeleton race. These had been loving burials, family members and friends, brought here in ancient times when Monsters and mankind loved each other fully. Perhaps hoping for another life, or perhaps in honor of the Mountain herself, those ancient humans had been buried here with honors…and then, one day, had woken back up. 

The Mother Mountain was endless in Her generosity.

Sometime around ‘afternoon’, per his internal napping clock, as he wandered down an enormously long, slowly sloping natural rift, something…odd chimed off his magical senses. Something discordant, compared to the silent song of the Mountain. The further down he went, the more the feeling grew.

By the time he reached the end of it, he was practically itching in his sweatshirt. The rift dead-ended into a stone wall here, much like most other natural features and old constructions had, but this one somehow felt different. Thicker…like a wall, like a cyst. A body, sequestering infection. None of the beautiful little creatures that had followed him the past few days would come close to where he was- a small crowd of them lingered far up the rift floor behind him, staring down with nervously-twitching ears or blind, scared eyes. There was no plant life either, no strange corals or ferny growths.

He smiled knowingly to himself.

---

Gaster dawdled around your house all night and day after his grim realization, weary from so much time spent in bed, and tried to focus on all of the information that had poured into his email over the past two weeks while you went out to work in your garden, getting it ready for winter. With the Mountain crisis being what it was, the university was on hiatus until further notice, and you'd taken a medical leave at the hospital out of concern for him…so the only thing he could do was sit, recover, and read.

Well, that…and worry about his brother. He knew, somehow, as surely as he knew his own name, that Sans was doing something dangerous. That he'd lied about taking a vacation, and was instead wandering far, far below the Mountain- the visions Gaster had while under Toriel's sleeping decooctions had been prophetic, he was sure of it. The thought alone was an uncomfortable one, for it told him just how close he'd been to…to…

No matter. To hell with the scarlet Mage and her sick machinations. You’d repeated it again and again over the last two weeks, whispering the words into his half-sleeping ear like a mantra against evil- it wasn't his fault. Illarni had been like a rabid dog,  slavering and fixated on him, and that was her choice. Yes, it was agonizing that she'd used him (or more specifically, his mother's refusal to sell him) as her reason to attack his people. Yes, it was almost impossible not to imagine what his life would have been like at her side; a sick, shuddering notion. But her actions, her desires, couldn’t be blamed on him. Not only was it psychologically unsound, it was illogical. 

The translated contents of the Script Catacomb that were being sent to him as fast as they were completed all seemed to focus on the ancient war. The translators were working as quickly as they could, though many of the scrolls and parchments found had also been in cipher. In the month and a half or so that had passed since the place had been uncovered, most writings found were shown to be related to the same subjects. The earliest were from pre-war archivists, the later from the first Monsters who'd awakened from the magical sleep of the imprisoning spell, and all of them were either pre-imprisonment histories and court documents, or early post-imprisonment research trying to discover the many reasons for the six great Mage’s organized attacks. 

Most of them had reached the same conclusions- the scarlet Mage Illarni had driven the attacks, but the others had, for the most part, their own reasons to assist. Only two had pushed back. The orange Mage, Dir-n of H-Shept-Ni, had tried to warn Monsterkind, using an incorruptible magical cipher in Old Chak that hadn't been translated in time- Illarni had forced him to obey in the end by using the green Mage's mind-twisting abilities, per several eye-witnesses. And of course, the nebulous blue Mage…a Soul color shared by you and his Mother. Few writings referred to her, oddly enough. Seemingly, she'd gone to ground years before the war- per transcriptions, a few elderly court members had publicly debated whether she had done so to gather her strength, or whether she had done so in cowardice to avoid Illarni and her pet armies. Starsinger’s words had obviously carried the same weight back then as they did now, maybe even more. But the hatred of the Mages had been new and fresh, with little room for understanding that one had fought back.

Sometime around seven that evening, he sat the laptop aside, sitting back to stare at the ceiling. Reading through all of it was sobering, of course, but for a far more personal reason than most of the Monsters working on the project- he, Toriel, and a few other Boss Monsters had taken so long to awaken. He'd known, conceptually and in distant, blurry memory, that the barest parts of a starving civilization had been built up around them in the Underground when Toriel had woken him from his bespelled resting place atop his mother's ashes. Asgore had woken before them both by nearly fifty years, and some Monsters had woken decades before that even. 

But it was one thing to know, and one thing to read the proof with his own two eyes- sobering, yes, yet it was an oddly hopeful experience too. How proud he was of those early Monsters- fighting starvation and magical poisoning, yet still they had fought to ensure that their words and thoughts would be preserved! Still they had tried to add to Starsinger’s last, desperate efforts, stockpiling whatever records they'd brought along next to their own newer suppositions and theories, all in the desperate hope that someday, sometime, their efforts would not be in vain. While he had spent those first decades at his old friend’s side, rebuilding their government and beginning the earliest workings that would save their people in the long-term- aquifers, artificial sunlights, dimension-stretching runes -these brave archivists had fought just as hard in their own ways, ensuring that future generations would have access to their information long after their dust returned to the stars. 

A glance out the window made him smile- you waved as you passed, pushing a wheelbarrow full of mulch around to the back yard, a streak of dirt across one cheek. It was warm for the tail-end of October, and he took a moment to enjoy the view of you in a pair of tiny, clinging shorts in the late evening sun before you disappeared around a corner and back through the gate of your high privacy fence, bouncing along to whatever music you were listening to through the device over your ears.

He was up and rooting through the fridge some fifteen minutes later, eager to find some leftover or another of yours, when he heard an odd sound at the front door. A scuff, a whispered swear…and then a key very slowly, very quietly turning.

Narrowing his eyes, he did a quick, magical scan of your property. It wasn't you; he still sensed your Soul far in the back area of your backyard. No, the Soul wasn't one he recognized at all, though its pallor and discordant hum was unpleasant- its owner certainly wasn't a happy creature. 

Well, time to nip this problem right in the bud. Gaster tiptoed over, waited for the person to finish shakily twisting the key…then threw open the door and stalked forward, making the person- a human man- scramble backwards with a yelp. He tripled backwards off your porch steps, falling into his bum for a moment in the gravel for a moment before struggling back to his feet…

Gaster nearly groaned with frustration aloud when he realized it was your brother. 

Now, he hadn't reached his position in life by being an unobservant fool. His mind offered him connecting pieces as fast as he looked for them. The driveway looked empty; Papyrus had helped you clear out your large, two-car garage sometime over the past two weeks while Gaster recovered, and both of you were now parked within. He'd kept the curtains drawn on the house, not wanting to flirt with a migraine after so long spent sleeping in your dark bedroom. And of course, you were invisible behind your tall fence.

Then there was Zeke's appearance. Greasy-haired and sallow-skinned, the man had worn dark pants, a worn-out black sweatshirt, dark shoes, and an empty backpack judging by how it hung on his back. His beat-up little sedan was parked far down the drive leading to your house- Gaster could just barely see it through the trees.

He sighed, filled with disappointment. This was, sadly and pathetically, almost certainly a burglary attempt.

“You Would Steal From Your Own Sister?” He said it quietly, staring down at the other man with his arms crossed. “After Taking Her Name Off Of Your Hospital Records? After Refusing To Go To A Rehabilitation Facility?”

Zeke overcame his surprise at Gaster's appearance and accurate accusation quickly. “What business is it of yours?” He shifted his weight to his other leg, nervous, and ran his tongue along his teeth behind his thin, closed lips. 

“Plenty,” Gaster replied, “Considering That I'd Prefer Her Belongings And Mine To Be Un-Stolen.” 

Zeke’s hands were trembling at his sides. “I…I'm here to see my sister. Where is she? And where do you get off, accusing me?”

‘God help the poor scut,’ Gaster thought to himself. ‘He's dying for another hit of whatever it is he does, you can see the desperation in his eyes.’ In answer, he only shook his head. “How Do You Know She Wants To See You? When Was The Last Time You Even Spoke To Her?” Unable to keep a bit of scorn out of his voice, for the realization had wounded you terribly, he added, “When She Tried To Call You A Few Weeks Ago, You’d Blocked Her Number.”

The other man flinched, picking at the skin around his thumbs with his other nails and not meeting Gaster’s eye for a moment. “Oh, well I'm so glad that you know all of our business. Now, just mov-” He tried to walk forward into your house, and Gaster put his arm out, blocking the doorway. “No.”

“Excuse me?” The man stared up at him with wild eyes. “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Someone Who Cares About Her Very Much.” Gaster kept his voice low, in comparison to the other’s rising tones. He very much did not want you to see this pitiful display- you'd already gone through enough lately. “Just Like You Should. She Loves You Terribly, You Know That Right? She Worries About You Every Day.” Again, the other man tried to push by him, and again, Gaster simply blocked his path.

A sad thing happened, then. Zeke started to step forward, seemingly ready to square off against Gaster…then scoffed, flapping a hand as he twisted away from him and lurched back off the porch…and Gaster could sense in his Soul, withered and pale as it was, that he meant his next words. “Yeah, great for her. Don't know why she bothers, not like I give a shit either way.” 

Despite his rising anger for the man’s callousness, Gaster tried hard to make him see reason. “You Only Have Each Other. It May Be Hard To See It Now, But Her Love Is A Precious Thing-”

“What, like she loves you?” Sneering, he waved at the Skeleton’s lanky form. “Her little pet projects, her little sick boys. Someone to take care of- what's wrong with you, then? There's always something. Always.” When Gaster didn't react to the venomous words, it only made him angrier. “She always did love the fucked up ones. Best thing I ever did was screw up my life- it's her favorite thing in the world. Playing doctor, being the oh so loving volunteer, showing everyone how much better she is than them…” He spat on the ground.

Gaster took a deep breath, biting back anger. “You’re Mocking Her For…What, Caring About Others? Wanting To Contribute Her Skills To The Medical Field? Volunteering, For God's Sake? That's What Bothers You?” In lieu of an answer, Zeke stared at him for a moment in anger, then spun on his heel and began to walk away…

A purple, glowing hand on his hood stopped him.

“Her Housekey, Please.” Gaster said it with all the reasonable politeness he could muster. “Since You Could Not Resist Its Use. You May Call Her And Ask For It Back, Though I Will Be Telling Her What You Tried Here Today.” He watched as the other man fought against the magical hand holding him for a moment, his face blank while Zeke swore at him…

…and then at the same moment that he noticed something matte black tucked into the back of the other man's pants, visible with how his sweatshirt hem had ridden up during his struggles, he heard your voice, raised in concern and worry from the far side of your garage- he hadn't heard you come out your other gate, damn it.

“Zeke?! What? What's going on, I-”

Gaster took a step off the porch, fighting to control his temper as his head started to pound again, and hissed in a voice hopefully low enough that you couldn't hear him, “You Brought A Firearm To Rob Your Fucking Sister?!” 

The human man swore at him, looking nervous now despite his earlier bravado when he'd claimed he didn't care about you. “F-fuck you! Get off of me, what the hell-”

Gaster's magical control wasn't great at that moment. He was still as weary as old wool, his head was hurting more by the second, he hated that you'd had to see this ugly display at all…and so when he saw Zeke, perhaps in a moment of instinct rather than true malice, jerk a hand toward the back of his waistband, Gaster panicked. The magical hand on Zeke's hood vanished, reappearing further down his back to try to yank the small handgun away before anything terrible happened…

…but Zeke got to it in the same moment. 

Gaster's foresight suddenly roared in his Soul- watch, careful, CATASTROPHE, SAVE HER! Faster than the blink of an eye, and despite the agony that shot through him at so great a magical working in his weakened state, he tore open a ragged rift and practically yanked an entire blaster into existence in front of you, the huge body shielding you as Zeke’s hand knocked into his magical one, sending the worn-out old gun careening through the air. 

It hit the ground and fired.

Your scream when the bullet harmlessly hit the blaster in front of you was terrible, half-fear and half-betrayal. Zeke looked stunned, horrified into a frozen silence. 

Gaster himself stumbled back, a Monster's instinctive fear of humanity roaring up inside him for a moment. He fought to master himself, his hands shaking and his belly swooping, the magical drain of summoning the blaster leaving him sickly and faint. After a few moments of silence, you spoke first, stepping out from behind the blaster- it moved with you, crouching to keep its shoulder in front of your body like an oversized guard dog. “Zeke…that's…that's our dad’s gun! Why did you…why are you here, fighting with Gaster, with a loaded gun with the safety off?!” 

Gaster, for his part, sat down hard on the steps of your porch, trying his best to stay upright. 

Your brother shook his head wildly, his eyes wide, visibly shaking. “No, no, I'd never! I didn't…I…I don't…”

“What are you doing here?! Answer me!” To Gaster’s inward, secret joy, you continued circling your brother until you and your beast were between him and your lover. Protecting him. God, it was enough to make a man feel religious. “Why did you come?!”

Zeke was stuttering, tears starting to fall down his cheeks. “I-I didn't, I didn't mean any…I didn't want to hurt anyone, I just needed-”

“You brought a gun to my HOUSE!” Your voice was rising, your fists clenched. “What the fuck do you mean, you didn't want to hurt anyone? Why else would you bring a gun, huh? A LOADED gun, no less!”

Gaster put his head in his hands; god, the pounding behind his bad eye was growing unbearable. “I Believe He Meant To Rob You. Look Where He Parked, Look What He’s Wearing. I Caught Him Trying To Let Himself In.”

Your face went as hard and cold as glacier ice, though tears began to fall down your cheeks. “I can't believe…Zeke, do you even know what we're dealing with right now? What's happening in my life, what happened to my partner? What's happening to his people, to my students, my friends?!” 

He shook his head, fidgeting but unable to escape your gaze. 

“Of course you don't. You won't talk to me, you won't answer me. And now you came here to rob me!” You pointed a finger at him. “Tell me right now that Gaster is wrong, that you didn't come here to steal from me for drug money.”

Your words were met only with shameful silence, silence that stretched for so long that the birds began singing again in the woods around your house. 

“How dare you.” Your voice was a low hiss. The blaster stepped forward, cocking the back of its head up in a gesture Gaster knew well- power began to gather in its throat. He groaned weakly as it drew magic off of him, magic he didn't have…instantly you put a hand out to its shoulder. “Stop, you're hurting him. Enough.” 

Its teeth closed with a click, but it stared up at you with something like reproach in its empty eyes.

“Zeke. You're on parole. You brought a gun to rob your own sister's house while on parole.” Your hand was trembling with anger as you held up your cellphone. “Tell me one fucking reason why I shouldn't call the police right now and have you arrested for felony armed assault. Why would you even try to shoot me?!”  

He went down to one knee- not necessarily to beg, but because it didn't seem like he could stay upright. “No, no! Fuck, I didn't, I…I…” The human man blinked rapidly, his expression terrified and…confused? “I would never, no, I don't…I didn't want to hurt you, I’d never…I fucked up once, years ago, but I-I…”

Gaster frowned, squinting. What was the shadow that he’d just seen, flickering for the barest blink of an eye as it disappeared off the pale, sickly-yellow of your brother's Soul?

You hummed in your throat. He glanced over at you- you looked pensive, suspicious even. Gaster knew you saw magic far better than he did; had you seen that little flicker, too? “Love?”

“...Gaster, it was red. You saw that, right? There was magic on him, and it was red.” You took a deep breath, staring at your brother with your head cocked and sensing rather than seeing your partner's agreement to your words. “Zeke…I want to ask you a few questions. And so help me god, no matter how weird you think they are, you'd better fucking be as honest as you've ever been in your life. Because it's gonna decide whether I call your parole officer and tell them you had an unlicensed firearm.”

He nodded pathetically from his seat in your gravel driveway, snot running down his face.

“Are you high? Are you on something?”

“No! Not since-since, uh…Monday! Not since Monday!” ‘Three days ago,’ Gaster thought to himself. ‘No wonder the poor fucker is so desperate.’

“Did you come here to steal from me?”

His lower lip crumpled- his voice broke on a sob. “...y-yeah, I did. Fuck, fuck… I’m so fucked up birdie, I’m fucked, I- ”

Gaster watched you clench your fists behind your back at what was obviously some old childhood nickname. “Stop. That doesn't help right now. Look at me- Zeke look at me.” He did, his head jerking back almost instinctively at the sight of the blaster. 

“Did you mean to bring a gun? Were you planning on hurting me?” He shook his head frantically, and kept shaking it as you asked, “Did you bring it just in case you got caught? Or in case someone tried to jump you on the way to the pawn shop? Is there someone out there you're afraid of?”

“No!” The man was fully crying now. “I never carry anything more than a knife! I don't even remember picking it up! I don't even own bullets for it, I just keep it at my friend’s place, in a box of stuff, of-of memories! I don't know why I have it!”

Gaster, with a shocking moment of clarity that pierced through the pain in his head and the exhaustion in his Soul, caught your eye and realized exactly what you were getting at. His belly dropped out.

“There's No Way…” he whispered. It was completely illogical. Completely. The man before you both was known as an uncontrolled addict, with a penchant for getting into fights. He'd even beaten you once, for god's sake. 

And yet. 

The connection between the two of you was so new, so young and simple…but it was also, undeniably, a love-bond between a Maegister and his chosen mate. A blue-souled truth-speaker, recently elevated to an Eternal yourself. 

And that gave your words power. 

“My brother loves me,” you murmured, staring down at Zeke. The man was so miserable that he only nodded, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands like a boy. “My brother is sick, and an addict. He hurt me once because of it. But he isn't a killer. He's not a violent man. He doesn't like hurting people.”

“I-I don't…I don't.” 

Gaster groaned. “God Fucking Damn It.” He knew what you were getting at. Worse, every word you'd spoken so far rang against his power with intrinsic, magical truth- he nodded wearily when you glanced over at him again, confirming your unspoken question.

“She did something to my brother.” You held his eye, waiting for him to trawl your words for accuracy. He did, and nodded again. “She wants me hurt or dead, wants you distracted, after her other plan didn't work.” Another nod. “ She can influence our world, now…or maybe she always could, and was saving up her strength for when it would matter.” 

“The Phrasing Of The Second Reverberates Truer Than The First,” he whispered. This, combined with his dreams about Sans… fuck him. He didn't need this right now.

“She knows we're getting close.” 

“...She Does.”

“And…” You rubbed the blaster’s head absentmindedly as it booted its nose up under your hand for a moment before turning away to do blaster-things. “And if you were just a normal Monster, I'd be dead. But you're not…and so you can match her. She tried, but she couldn't pull one over on you. You can sense her interference, and can fight back.”

He thought back to that horrible time in the D-Lab.

“...It's So Obvious, Now That I Think About It From A Different Angle; The Capture Protocol Never Should Have Been Able To Reach So Far Up, Through So Many Floors And So Much Stone And Shielding.” He pressed his palms to his temples, squeezing to try to counter the migraine. “It Never Should Have Had The Strength To Radiate So Far…Unless…”

“Unless something helped it,” you finished, coming close to stroke your hands over his head. “She's trying to hurt you. Directly, or by hurting me. I wonder if you were ever even really supposed to get that notification about a manuscript translation being finished.”

“It Did Conveniently Ensure I Would Be Alone, Horrified…And I Fell Perfectly On The Worst Possible Place, The Spot Most Guaranteed To Kill Me.” He tapped his raw right temple gingerly, where the bone was powdery and weak; the same spot that had first hit the magma, nearly seven years ago, now freshly reinjured.

Then both of you turned sharply, distracted from your discussion, when Zeke made a tiny noise of terror in his throat. The blaster had slinked its way up to him and now was crouched some three feet away, peering at the man with its head on its ‘paws’.

Surprising even himself, Gaster had to drop his head to hide a little grin as, after a moment's hesitation, Zeke showed his blood relation to you more surely than a DNA test- he reached a trembling hand out and patted the thing's nose.

And then, spoken with the tiniest hint of sibling-ly accusation and jealousy through a veil of misery, snot, and tears, “Did…did…did they give you a dragon?” 

---

You were so damned grateful for your man. Your kind, stern, loyal man, who'd tried his best to mitigate Zeke’s sudden ‘visit’, and who now sat at your kitchen table across from your errant brother, talking wearily on the phone while Zeke practically inhaled a large bowl of baked pasta. He was fascinated by the Monster, doing his best not to be obvious in his staring. 

And Gaster, bless him, had suggested something before you'd even so much as opened your mouth, once the three of you were back in your house, your father's gun locked away in your basement safe.

He'd suggested magically-assisted rehab. Something you didn't even know existed.

When he hung up, he fixed a glowing eye on Zeke. “I Will Not Lie And Claim That They Do It Out Of Charity- The Place Is Very Much For Profit.” It was obvious that, as was his nature, your partner had quietly researched and gathered information about the subject, waiting for an opportunity to arise that he could bring it up. Though you were willing to bet that none of you could have ever guessed just how that opportunity would come to pass. “Monsters With Natural Skills In The Areas Of Healing Figure Out New Niches Every Day, And Charge A Premium For The Application Of Those Talents. But Their Results, And The Comfort Of Their Patients, Cannot Be Denied.” He turned his laptop to face Zeke, whose already-ogling eyes practically fell out of his head at the esoteric looking piece of technology. He missed his mouth with a huge bite completely, leaving a smear of sauce across his cheek and hardly even noticing it. “Look At This Facility And See What You Think. The Offer Is A Singular One- I Won't Beg You To Save Your Own Life. But If You Want Your Best And Most Comfortable Chance, This Is It. Near-Miracles Can Be Worked With Magic. And There Are…Agreements That Can Be Reached With Law Enforcement.”

Hastily scrubbing his hands and face on a paper towel, your brother reached out and gingerly slid the laptop toward himself, cocking his head for a moment at the completely flat keyboard and the floating letters above it. Then, shaking himself out of it, he began looking through the website Gaster had pulled up. 

For your part, you stood off to the side and played with your Glories, letting their soft piping and the feather-gentle touch of them landing on your fingertips over and over soothe you. God, what a gift it was, to have a partner that you could rely on to handle a thing without your interference. You trusted him completely, trusted that he'd have looked at every angle of the issue before even offering his idea to Zeke. 

For a few minutes, everything was quiet as Zeke scrolled through the pages- watching over his shoulder, you saw that the facility truly was of the highest quality, the kind of place that wealthy, wealthy human celebrities might attend. Built at the base of the west face of the Mountain, it had natural hot springs to complement a full health spa, a large lake-side swimming area, nature trails, an enormous library, a full interventional medicine suite…and those were just the mundane, human options. The pages of magical support treatments and detox services were so long that it took Zeke five or six minutes just to scroll over them briefly. 

“Their Sponsorship Does Not End At Check Out. Since An Addict Is Always An Addict, They Offer Perpetual Support Services To Their Patients. Everything From Daily Counseling If Needed, To Weekly Group Events, Career Placement, And Housing And Quality Of Life Planning.”

Zeke sat back and said nothing for a long time, running his hands through his hair again and again…then smiled shakily at Gaster. “Thanks. I really appreciate it, um…I can tell you put a lot of thought into this. But there's no way I can afford-”

“I'm Not Asking You To Pay, I'm Asking You To Go.” Your partner took a deep breath. “Go, And Cease This Horrible, Ongoing Grief That You Cause The Woman I Love.” 

When Zeke said nothing, Gaster sat forward. “I Am Over Six Hundred Years Old, Boy. Trust Me When I Tell You- Be Grateful For The Family You Have. I Went Nearly A Century Without Speaking To My Brother, Once. One Hundred Years Of Loneliness And Anger…For What? Nothing. Absolutely Nothing. What Seemed So Serious Then, Such A Vital Thing For Me To Defend And Criticize Over, Is Now Laughably Stupid And Petty- I Despise That l Lost So Much Time With Him For So Stupid A Reason.”

To his credit, Zeke didn't get angry, or react with...anything, really, at least not for a long few moments. Just stared at the table, his knee bouncing underneath. 

Gaster delivered his final verdict. “Agree, And I Will Make The Call Right Now. They'll Be Expecting You Within The Hour. You're Free To Keep Whatever Belongings There That You Choose To, Though They Will Be Searched Quickly And Magically For Paraphernalia. You'll Have All The Funds To Get What You Need, A Crown Bank Card And Account Information Is Awaiting You There. Your Purchases Will Be Managed By The Facility For The First Month Or Two Of Treatment, But Only To Ensure That You Aren't Backsliding. After That, It's Yours. No Strings, No Stipulations. I Hope You Will Use It For Housing And Career Training.”

“I…what?! That's insane, why would you even…that's so much money, you can't-” Zeke was trying Gaster's patience, though it came from a good place. 

Your man bristled. “I Can't? Oh I Assure You, I Can And Will Do Whatever I Wish With My Income. If You Choose To Waste It, That's Your Prerogative- I Have Already Paid, And The Sum Is Not Refundable. And I Could Give A Cave Rat's Ass About Repayment. My Accounts Will Continue Accruing Compound Interest Long After You're Old And Gray.”

You had to smile at that. “How long did you plan this, love?” As always, he instantly perked up at your voice. “When did you set this up?”

“Over A Month Ago, When You Cried After The Hospital Called. I Nebulously Knew My Path Would Cross With His At Some Point In The Future, I Just Didn't Know When Or How.”

Zeke was scrolling through the website again, fiddling with his napkin. “...I…”

Both of you waited. It hurt to see him so thin, so frail- your brother had always been naturally well-built, carrying a bit of muscle on his lean figure. But now, with sunken eyes and arms so thin you could wrap your fingers around his forearm…

“I'll go,” he whispered, staring at the floor. “I'll…I'll try. I'll try my best there.” Then he glanced up at Gaster. “I've seen, um, Monster-people on the news, uh-”

“Just ‘Monsters’ Is Fine. Not ‘Monster People’.”

“-okay, got it. I've seen M-Monsters on the news, and of course when I'm in town, um…it's kind of cool. Sorry, that's weird to say. I should go, I guess.” He stood up too quickly, knocking into the table. “Before I lose my…my motivation.”

Gaster nodded. “I Have Heard That The Withdrawal Process Is Often Physically The Worst Part For Humans. Tell Them Immediately On Arrival, They Will Assist.” He pointed to a page he'd just clicked to, titled, ‘Trying to quit? Magic can help!’ “I Cannot Promise A Complete Lack Of Discomfort, But You Won't Be Shaking On The Floor And Vomiting On Yourself. Be Strong.”

All three of you glanced over when your front door creaked open further, interrupting your man- a bony snout took great, deep sniffs of the inside of your home through fleshless nostrils. Gaster sighed deeply. “I Don't Have The Strength To Get Rid Of The Thing. I Suppose We Are Stuck With It For A While.”

The room was silent for a few moments, until-

“So, um…thank you. Like, really thank you. I…I hope I can make a better impression, the next time you see me.” Zeke was staring down at his lap, though he kept glancing yearningly toward the blaster. “I'm…really sorry. For everything.”

Gaster sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Apologize Through Actions, Not Words.” Then he softened a bit, seeing your brother wince. “We All Must Live Through Our Own Constant Mistakes. I Recently Made One, Out Of Grief And Fear, That Quite Literally Nearly Killed Me, While Lying To Your Sister In The Process. I Barely Survived, Am Currently Barely Surviving, Through Her Interference And Care.” He offered a wry, but sincere smile. “We Fools Must Help Each Other Where We Can, Yes?” 

“She always helps people,” he whispered. “Always fixes things. She's better than me.” 

Rather than argue, Gaster only nodded in agreement. “My Youngest Brother Radiates Hospitality And Sincerity Like A Miasma, Earning The Trust Of Everyone He Meets. My Other Effortlessly Navigates People And Relationships, Making Friends Everywhere He Goes, While Matching Me In Intelligence And Skill. Where Does That Leave Me?” He shrugged. “Trying My Best.” 

Your brother laughed softly, running his hand under his eyes for a second. “Yeah…yeah. I get that.” Then he looked up at you. “I don't…feel good, birdie.” The words made him sound so much younger.

You felt yourself tear up. “I know. I know you don't. I…didn't know he was even finding this place, but I promise…if Monsters run it, they'll help you. They're really kind people, Zeke. They'll help.” 

He stood. “What are you gonna do now? What have you been…up to?”

“Oh, you know. I started teaching again. Hospital stuff, too. And uh…we're saving Gaster’s people from an…evil wizard, kind of.”

It was entertaining to talk to someone who only had distant knowledge of Monsters and magic- Zeke accepted this more easily than you'd have thought possible, since he had no background on the subject either way and had only heard the fantastical news that circulated around Ebott over the past years. He'd probably believe absolutely anything that you told him about magic. “Oh…uh..well, be careful with that. Wizards are probably really tricky and sneaky.”

“She is.” You pointed to Gaster, who nodded tiredly. “He's been working on undoing her ugly magic for centuries, now.”

He began rooting through the bottom of his almost-empty bookbag, resurfacing with a crumpled box of cigarettes. “Maybe you have to find her staff or something.” His voice, though weak and full of discomfort, was lightly teasing, his expression closer to the brother you remembered than you'd seen in years. “Wizards should have a staff, or an orb, right? Or else they're not very good at it. And you have a dragon, don't those eat wizards?”

---

Sans stared down from his position, a hundred and fifty feet high on an otherwise absolutely inaccessible ledge, and swallowed hard in horror. Red mist, like a dense fog of fresh blood, concealed the entire bottom of the absolutely enormous, quarter mile across and bowl-shaped cavern he was in…and that was an answer all on its own. It was impossible to guess how deep it was- the walls sloped so gently, yet were so immensely wide and far apart, that he couldn't even make a guess based on that. He was far, far under the Mountain by then, far deeper than the deepest Core magma pump rigs and the geothermic flows they tapped into. Impossibly deep, to the point that the space had to be quasi-magical in nature, partially real but partially ultra-dimensional. That deep under the Mountain, the rules of reality blurred…and he could feel, as surely as he could feel his own face, that a source of magic so great and vast that it felt silent lay at the bottom of the enormous basin crater. He just couldn't make it out through the thick, bloody-fog covering it. But he didn't have to see, didn't need any visibility at all. He knew what was down there making that mist, knew as surely as any Monster would. Perhaps as surely as any human would. 

Still…he had to check. Preparing the most immediate, powerful teleportation that he could muster, he flicked a single, fist-sized stone down into that seemingly endless pool of scarlet miasma. 

The reaction was immediate. 

The misleadingly calm, gently swirling fog solidified in less than the blink of an eye into countless spikes like huge needles made of blood, lashing out not only at where he heard the rock distantly land, but up in an arch following the path it had taken. They slammed into the wall below his ledge, climbing faster than he could imagine, piercing deeply into the stone in an explosion of noise and thrashing magic so violent that the room shook. In a second, they'd left a trail of destruction thirty feet wide and nearly two-hundred feet tall, from the now-visible floor up to the shallow ledge he'd been on just a breath before. 

Watching from his new, hidden vantage point on the opposite side of the cavern, Sans shivered. Battle magic didn't usually have a feeling. It was worked power, a tool. The Soul was what carried feeling and motivation. Yet this magic…it somehow was a Soul at the same time. It was a directed will incarnate, with all the emotion and malevolence that one could imagine, completely foreign and disgusting to Monster magic. And as it thrashed wildly, seeking up the wall another thirty or so feet above the ledge and spreading acidic tendrils across the ceiling for a moment before giving up its search and retreating sulkily, Sans saw it. 

Saw her. 

He sucked in a silent breath, closing his eyes for just a moment. Despite all this time of travel and wandering, despite two weeks to prepare himself…the sight still left him nearly shaking. And he hadn't even seen much really, for the fog still lingered thinly as her insane, hysterical magic lashed out, and had closed back again quickly. But it was undeniable. At the far-distant bottom of this huge basin room- what was obviously, impossibly, an enormous, ancient meteoric impact crater -a beautiful substance some thirty feet across had glowed with a soft, golden-white light…the core of the Mountain, the heart of the Mother…the source of all magic, beautiful and kind…

And draped over top of it had been a humanoid form. Blotting out the light like an ink stain, pulsing and writhing with it, sprawled out like a dead body. Like a pustule, like a disease, like a tumor. A spindly arm had been outstretched, clutching a long staff or weapon of some kind, something that pierced the magical heart below it.

…

Sans disappeared. 

---

Once Zeke had left, getting into his car and driving straight toward the rehab center rather than stop anywhere else for his belongings, you came back in from your slightly tearful hug on the porch to find your poor man slumped face down onto the kitchen table. For a dreadful moment, you thought something terrible had happened…then he groaned weakly, raising his hands above his head. “My dear, I'm sorry. Could you please bring me every single damn medicine that Toriel gave me? Hell, some human ones while you're at it. All of the drugs, bring me every drug.”

You shook your head, grinning even as you worried for him. “That was an awful lot of talking after two weeks of sign. Come on love, into bed. And then I'll give you a damned horse tranquilizer if I can find one.”

“Delightful, I always aspired to horsey-ness. Noble creatures…” He let you put your shoulder under his arm, helping him easily to his feet. Honestly, you could probably carry the man, but he'd never allow it. His phrasing made you giggle softly as he limped into the bedroom at your side- he was so adept with Monster sign, so able to make little jokes and puns with how rapidly he could spell out words or come up with new, expressive little signs.

He sighed with weariness as he collapsed down into bed, his ageless face looking lined . “I…hope I didn't step on any familial toes, there. I was…angrier than I wanted to be, and didn't feel like giving him much of an option.” He looked up at you, his eyes nearly level with yours despite sitting before you on the duvet. “I have hated seeing your stress and pain from him, all these months.”

You shook your head. “No, love. He'd have never listened to me. And…Gaster, that was the most generous thing I've ever seen in my life. Please let me pay you back at least some of it, I can't imagine the cost if you did a lump sum-”

A flash of genuine hurt in his eyes, quickly concealed, cut you off for a moment. Confused, you took his face in your hands.

“…love, I don't want to upset you. I just feel bad for how much I know it had to be.”

He looked away from you for a moment, then back again, his fingers twitching for a moment- you realized it was, perhaps, the signed version of a person humming or saying ‘um’, searching for the right words. God, sometimes he was just so fucking cute…or sweet…or precious, or something.

Ugh. It was all of them at once. You loved him so damn much.

“It was…quite a bit. But it seems rather silly to mess with repayment if someday we were to…nevermind, of course do what you would feel most comfortable doing.” He flashed you a pained smile. “Drugs, please. I've been such a good destrier.”

You began handing him the tiny, beautifully made corked vials one at a time, then added in four over-the-counter pain pills just for good measure…and realized as he took the last ones what he'd stopped himself from saying. God, you couldn't help it- an enormous smile spread across your face, one that he instantly noticed despite you ducking away to rinse the little vials out, looking curious. 

You finished rinsing the little things and stayed to wash your face and nails of dirt, staring at yourself in the mirror. The ultraviolet flare of his magic in your eyes was noticeable now, shifting the irises from their usual shade to a definite purplish undertone. In time, he'd told you, they would fully turn to match his power. 

You'd known the man for almost exactly six months, now. Had been together for nearly five. In Monster terms, it was an incredibly long time to date someone without any concrete promise or agreement of a future together. Of course, he had given you the most binding, esoteric promise possible- a drop of his own Soul, slowing time for you to match him. But he'd still been raised by normal Monster standards and culture…would perhaps be, very quietly and privately, imagining a life together. Marriage. Shared finances. 

He'd been quite literally using your love and care for him over these past two weeks to heal, letting your worry become a magical bandage to help his Soul so his body would follow. Why not give him something more?

You called out to him from the bathroom, through the open door. “Honey? Want to know something interesting?” 

A soft, buzzing click of his fingertips told you he was listening.

“I got resized at the jewelry store the other day, my ring size went down a half size. I used to wear a size eight and a half, now it's almost a perfect eight. Who knew those things could change?” He stayed quiet as you undressed the rest of the way, changing into a spare t-shirt and shorts that had been floating around on the bathroom floor and shaking out your hair. When you reemerged, you found that he'd gotten into bed proper, sitting back against a mound of pillows with the blanket pulled up over his legs, and staring at you with the youngest, most open expression on his face that you'd ever seen- the man knew a hint when he heard one.

You smiled at him, stopping to slide your little earrings out and put them away. “You're right, by the way. It…it would be stupid to worry about paying you back when…well.” The thought made your belly flutter, made you look away from him for a second lest you do something silly like scream or jump on his effortlessly handsome, sweet, generous self. “Would you guess that I truly haven't thought about the idea in years? Genuinely years, decades. I…never had someone to consider it with.” You were still dancing around the word, around the idea, but the light in his face told you he understood anyway. 

He raised his hands. “I tell you now; the men in your past were impatient fools. I know you've said that they got frustrated with how busy you were, that you were focused on starting your career, on your passions, and they often claimed that you were too busy for them. But you are focused on your career and passions now, and still I have never felt neglected.” He reached for you, watching as you crossed the room and slid into his arms, laying half in his lap. Once there, he pressed his lips to your hair and held you close. His whisper, when it came, was thick with emotion. “They Don't Know The Treasure They Lost.”

In answer, you raised a hand and slid it up his shirt, through his ribcage, to cradle his Soul gently. As always, it pressed itself close to your skin, like it wanted to be as near to you as possible. Such a delicate thing to hold; such trust, letting you do this. He was, quite literally, letting you take his life into your hands. “I love you so much. Thank you for taking care of my family. Thank you for helping me so often, without me even having to ask you to.” 

“I Always Will.” 

Notes:

GO FIX YOURSELF, ZEKE. THE WORLD IS ENDING.

(Comments help author hearts go doki doki- let me know what you think! And follow me on tumblr @beewritesstuff for updates, nonsense, and fanart!)

Chapter 26: Necessary Distractions

Less than a week later, the afternoon of Samhain Eve, Gaster got a call he'd been dreading .

Sans was back. And before he’d passed out in a near comatose sleep, he'd given news to their Majesties that apparently every person important to the Crown needed to hear, immediately. Gaster knew his brother would give him the real rundown once he'd spent enough time recovering, and that any Crown-sponsored damn meeting was just going to be a pit of unhappiness. Nothing like a hot, crowded room of miserable people to receive bad news in, right?

Gaster had been in the middle of kissing you senseless during a lazy afternoon, laying back and enjoying your gentle grinding atop him, when the call came.

“-in two hours! King Asgore is calling an emergency meeting at the University, and-”

He rolled his eyes, shivering as you found a particularly good angle atop him. He heard the man out, then muttered, “...Christ, Fine.” When the Crown assistant hung up, he spent a moment staring at the phone…or perhaps longer than a moment, for you took it gently from his hand and turned the screen off, the heat in your eyes replaced, for the moment, with concern and affection.  

“Go to this silly meeting…and then we'll go for dinner,” you whispered in his ear, leaning down to press a sweet little kiss to his cheek. “I'm excited to know where you picked.”

Gaster was excited too…though not just to spend the evening with you, for all that he loved that as well. No, he was excited because a tiny velvet-lined box was burning a hole in his pocket, and he'd been carrying it every second for the past six days since he'd bought it, and he truly didn't know how to find the right time to give it to you. He'd worn the color off one of the corners by rubbing it constantly with his thumb, for the stars sake! The Monster tradition was a little different- an exchange, rather than just the man giving something to the woman, but he didn't mind. He couldn't expect you to know every single little cultural Monster thing. Hell, he'd spent hours over the last few days reading and watching all sorts of human nonsense about proposals, and for his life couldn't figure out a time special enough or important enough to give it to you. Would you want it to happen surrounded by friends? Would you want it to be a private moment? Would you want it to be something loud and exuberant? Or would you want something quiet and joyful?

Thinking nebulously hopeful thoughts late the night before, he'd reserved a table at a newly opened restaurant in Waterfall for dinner- a joint venture between a human and his Monster husband that promised to be absolutely beautiful. Better, the seating was designed to be private and comfortable, with curtains of vines between each table. Gaster had called in several favors to get a reservation sooner than six months out.

You smooched him again, louder. “Well?”

“Alright,” he murmured. “Deal.”

“I'll strive to be as distracting as possible.” You winked at him, sliding from his grasp. “Since you don't think anything truly important will be discussed there, you'll have my help to make the meeting go by faster.”

He covered his face with a pillow and held up his hands. “It's not that I don't think it will be important…I just know I'll get a better explanation from my brother himself, rather than one shaped to a goal or purpose, or abbreviated to avoid a panic. I hate incomplete information.” 

“I know, love. Struggle through it, go out to dinner with me, and then we'll see if multiple days of sleep is enough for the stinker to give us the real rundown. I'm sure Doctor Alphys will wanna be there too, at least. Last I heard from Jess, she and her wife are breaking speed records to get back into town in time.”

-

After being ushered toward a conference room, Gaster kissed you and got a tight hug in reply before, smiling in self-satisfaction, you sauntered off toward your office to entertain yourself for the next few hours. He watched you go with suspicion in his eyes- he could tell you were up to something -then turned to join the huge room of people.

After twenty minutes or so of greetings, and assuring every person who came up to him that he was doing better and was grateful for their well wishes, he already wanted to leave. It's not that he didn't sincerely appreciate the worry of so many people there…but he hoped he knew himself well enough by now to freely admit that he just wasn't the social type. Asgore noticed his discomfort with the situation soon after and saved him by calling him over, silently showing him some preliminary sketches and copied phone photos of what Sans had seen on his excursion. Never was Gaster so grateful for his ancient King as he was then- the man didn't fuss, didn't flutter and fluff. He simply made a space of quiet and focus for Gaster to find his balance again in. 

Finally, he turned to look up at the other Maegister. “Thank you. For all of your help, for everything that night and…everything before and after.”  Asgore’s only answer was a firm, steadying grip on his shoulder, and a searching look as his scarlet gaze flickered over Gaster's head and neck. In the magical lamp light of the university, Gaster knew that the chalky, damaged spot on his temple was terribly visible, and Asgore frowned when he saw it.

“My wife…”

Gaster raised his hands both in mollification and to cut off the man's worried question. “Has done everything she could for me. I'm sure she's told you- both myself and my partner agree that certain extraneous forces ensured that this injury would be excruciating in its damage. I truly don't know how long this will take to fully heal, but… it could have been so much worse.”

Asgore sighed hugely, turning away for a moment, and Gaster realized with shock that there were shallow tears in the other man's eyes. Tears, quickly blinked away. Not sure what else to do to comfort this great protector and provider, he gripped his King's wrist in his own slim hand, and enjoyed the weight of the other man's paw on his shoulder for a moment. “We Survive, We Move Forward. Just As We Always Have.” He said it so softly that not even the inevitable listening spells plastered across the walls of this room could have picked up his words.

Asgore nodded, looking terribly weary. “...just as we always have.”

Crown assistants began announcing some of the minor and greater nobility that arrived at the meeting then, and the two men turned from their moment of camaraderie to face these allies and enemies within the court. Gaster moved away from Asgore with a bow, not wanting it to seem like the King was particularly favoring him at this important meeting. There were drinks in one corner of the room; he wandered over to those, pouring himself a generous serving of heavily sweetened golden tea. 

Then, a bit overwhelmed by trying to consider every moment of what was to come, and not really thinking twice about anything else, Gaster stuck his hand in the pocket of his jacket…and found something soft and fabricky in the right one? He pulled it out curiously, then immediately stuffed his hand back in and prayed no one had seen it happen- a quick glance around told him he was probably safe…

Safe from anyone seeing your tiny, lacy little red thong strung between his fingers. 

He blew out a laugh, staring up at the ceiling for a moment to hide his sudden grin- well god damn, he couldn't deny the effectiveness of your ‘help’. He was now thoroughly distracted.

Moments later, a raised voice drew his attention- Asgore's steward was calling the meeting to order.

The King began reading off a long page of notes, his deep voice serious- Sans’ description of what was under the Mountain was sobering at best. It was one thing to know the bitch was somewhere down there, and another to know. Another to be sure, as they were now.

Truly, the entire thing was a blind situation- it would be nearly impossible to test Illarni, or at least what remained of her, ahead of time. Impossible to trial any ideas or strategies against her. Gaster was trying to stay calm, leaning his chin in one palm and drumming his fingertips on the table while thinking about possible unmanned excursions- perhaps using human tech? -when his phone buzzed in his lap. He glanced down, unlocking the screen with one hand as he reached for a sip of tea with the other…then nearly snort-coughed it back out again. 

When you'd worn that demure, cute little powder blue button-up top and knee length brown skirt out of the house, he hadn't thought twice about it, except to have a nebulous caveman moment of ‘unga bunga lady pretty’. What he hadn't realized was that under it, you'd worn the strappiest, most complicated, delicious-looking lingerie bra he'd ever seen…and the picture you'd sent him just now was gorgeous. You, sitting back in your big leather office chair, smiling up at the camera with your shirt off, your hard little nipples poking cutely through the thin fabric of the barely-there cups…

Moments later, a second came- you'd taken it off completely and were nude from the waist up, cupping one breast and winking for the photo.

“-possibility, do you think?” 

Gaster surfaced from his phone like a teenaged boy caught looking at porn, stuffing it between his thighs and staring wide-eyed at the Dabbint who had just addressed him.

“Er…We…We Have To Consider Every Possibility Equally Right Now, Rather Than Rush Into Any Decisions,” he answered after a moment of careful staring up at the ceiling, as if he was taking the question very seriously. The other Monster nodded soberly, worry in his huge eyes, his whiskers twitching anxiously. “As careful and correct as ever, Doctor Gaster. I agree.” He turned back to face Asgore. “I’m wondering if we should wait…”

Gaster tuned his words back out again. God help him, it was impossible to focus- he'd never done this before. Honestly, for most of his life it hadn't been a possibility. Monsters hadn't invented mobile phones much sooner than humans, maybe by twenty or thirty years, and got the idea to put cameras in them from human junk that washed up in the Underground. The idea, the notion, that he now had racy, dirty pictures of you saved in his pocket, that you could send more at any moment… Stars above. 

After a few more minutes of discussion, a representative of a coalition of the conservative nobles asked if it would be possible to call for volunteers, to get close and observe the Mage in what would almost certainly be a suicidal attempt to gather whatever information they could…the Gander was apparently not well liked, and was immediately met by escalating anger as he and some others argued back and forth. They grew louder and louder, the sound straining Gaster's already tremulous grasp on a headache-free existence. Something happened then that touched him- the moment he raised a hand to massage around his bad eye, he saw his King's gaze flick toward him. Seconds later, a paw the size of a serving platter slapped down on the table, silencing every arguing voice. 

“I'll remind everybody…since it's been a long couple of weeks…” Asgore peered around the room, fixing each person there with a stern expression “-that everyone is scared, everyone is nervous…and some honored folks are doing us a real favor by even being present, recent events being what they were. Let's take a break, and come back ready to talk things out like sensible folks. But no, Festrie, I'll not send folks down to die to Illarni just so we can get a few hints.”

A few of the yellers glanced at Gaster then looked down, shamefaced. The circumstances of his injury and recovery were secret and would remain that way, but everyone knew that one of the last Boss Monsters still living was recovering from a recent and near fatal accident. The Gander was the first to stand from the table, striding out to the large balcony attached to the room away from the eyes of everyone else. Gaster sat back in his seat and closed his eye against the light…and then his phone buzzed again. Scooting in a bit closer to the table and shifting one leg to make room for his slowly hardening cock- he liked this game you were playing, it was hot as hell -Gaster peaked down at the screen.

Some weeks ago, you'd finished decorating your little office at the University to your own liking. Part of those decorations had been a beautiful, full length wood framed mirror- a lovely antique that Gaster had found for you at a local market. It was even more lovely framing your entirely nude reflection save for a pair of tall heels. You had taken your hair down, and were standing half turned before the mirror so the entire curve of your legs and hips leading up to your delightfully grippable little ass were perfectly lit by the warm lamps of your office, the peak of one breast showing as you turned at the waist and took the photo over your shoulder. 

‘You're a filthy brat, and I'm going to get caught with my dick out at this damn useless meeting,’ he typed out quickly, before flipping his phone over and glancing up at a Gecko who'd come to see him. He knew the man vaguely…

“Keot Pearlbite, If I Remember?” He smiled tiredly at the other Monster, who was plainly flabbergasted that the Doctor Gaster knew of him. “You'll Be Joining Us As An Adjunct In Spring."

The Gecko bobbed an excited nod combined with a bow. “Yes sir! And I cannot tell you how excited I am!” He was wringing his little toes so hard, Gaster was afraid they'd pop off. “I just…I'd heard you were hurt, and I wanted to be sure you were okay! I'm sorry if I'm prying, I know you like to keep to yourself sir, but…well…”

Gaster raised a hand, flattered, and also a little bemused- once, even eight or nine months ago, he'd have snapped the man's nose off for presuming to worry about him. Now? 

“Calm Yourself, Pearlbite. I'll Survive. But…Thank You.” He sighed. “It Was Not A Happy Few Weeks.”

“We all were worried,” the other answered quietly, his eyes darting to look anywhere but at the Skeleton's face. “All of us. I'm…I'm glad you're doing well.” Before Gaster could even think of an answer, he scuttled away.

Crown assistants appeared a few moments later with food, laying everything out on long tables that lined one side of the room. Gaster stood with a groan after taking an extra moment to make sure there was no glow coming from his pants, figuring he should get something to eat so that he had more than six vials of medicine in his metaphorical belly. His want for you smoldered in his Soul like a banked fireplace, a wonderful distraction from the darker fears and worries that this meeting inevitably was bringing to light…what better way to add to his distraction than a snack?

He'd found a few tidbits that tempted him, including some particularly tasty little candied mushrooms, and was enjoying the view from one of the tall windows that surrounded the conference room…when his phone buzzed again.

Hiding a filthy grin behind his plate, he took a step closer to the window and slid it from his pocket, eager to see what you'd come up with now…

Bent over your desk! A picture of you, again taken over your shoulder in that damned mirror, of your naked form bent over your desk! The heels made you a good three or four inches taller, making it so you had to lean down onto the wood, and the position hid nothing between your legs. Even in the magical lamplight, your pussy looked flushed, wet - how the hell you'd caught that in a photo, he'd never know. Smiling so politely at the Crystalsprite who'd just come up beside him, he excused himself for a moment with a nebulous claim of pain in his head. 

The second he was out of that conference room with the doors shut behind him, he wheeled in the hallway and found the nearest bathroom, slammed the door closed, locked it, and called you. 

You answered on the very first ring…as if you'd been waiting for it.

“Mmmm…oh hi, love…b-busy with your so very important meeting?”

Stars above, he knew that tone of voice, knew the breathiness behind your words. Trying very hard to sound gruff and stern, he shoved his pants down and took himself in hand. “And Just What Do You Think You're Doing? What's Gotten Into You? ”

“Into me? Nothing yet…wanna c-come find out what I’m doing?” Was he imagining that he could hear the sound of you playing with yourself? Was the phone's microphone good enough to pick up those delicious, tempting, wet little noises? 

“Coldlight Above Girl, I…I Shouldn't Until This Damned Meeting Is Over…” He started jerking himself off quickly and lightly, more of a tease than to make himself finish right away. 

“Mmhmm, the meeting that Sans will give you a way better version of tomorrow…” A pause- Gaster could only imagine what you were doing. “You know, I think my office is almost right above where your meeting room is, just two floors up… so close…” Close to him physically, or close to an orgasm, he couldn't tell- maybe both. He groaned out a soft laugh. “Don't You Dare Without Me. Without My Cock Inside You.”

“What, so I'm just supposed to…oh god, baby …so I'm just supposed to stay like this? Right on the edge? Ever since this morning with you, when you got that stupid call?”

How did any man ever survive you before? Gaster caught his reflection in the mirror- he was grinning like sin, his own dick in his hand as he braced himself on the sink, his phone sitting on the little shelf in front of him- and for the first time in years, thought it was a rather good looking sight. “I'll Know,” he purred, letting his voice drop lower. It didn't have the same effect it once did, at least not his own ears, but he heard your soft cry all the same- you were wound as tight as he'd ever known you to be, by the situation and the scandalousness, and  he couldn't help egging you on. “I'll Know If You Cum, And I'll Take It Out On That Sweet Little Ass Of Yours That You're So Insistent On Showing Me.”

You giggled breathily. “Mmmmm, you should do that anyway…big tough Monster, don't you know the legends? Brutalizing us weak little human women…carrying us away to faeryland…” 

He laughed, his head hanging, his willpower fraying. “I…I Should Stay, Though I Doubt Anything Useful Will Actually Be Discussed Here…”

“Please come fuck me-” Christ, as the humans said, you were irresistible. “Gaster please, oh please, I want you so badly...”

He forced himself to let go of his strainingly hard cock, his motivation to stay at the meeting snapping like old string. Was it irresponsible? He couldn't give a shit, he was too busy imagining the impossibly tight squeeze of your pussy around him. There was little he could contribute anyway- his usefulness would come when they actually began concrete planning. “Face That Damn Mirror, Bend Over Your Desk, And Stay Like That. I'll Let Myself In.”

“Fuck, okay, yes-” 

---

Oh, it was perfect. A little word of gossip on your way up to your office with one of the Crown administrators that you'd gotten close to had confirmed what you'd suspected- the meeting was a political one, not one for actual planning. Asgore just needed his royals and leaders to understand the seriousness of the situation.

But Gaster already knew how serious it was…so why leave the man to be all anxious and miserable and alone in a room of nasty politicians, when he could be there with you? Giggling to yourself with mischief and horniness, your chin on your crossed arms and your ass in the air, using your toes to push your desk chair further out of the way so that your naked upper half was perfectly framed in the mirror as you bent over your desk…you gasped in shock when, suddenly, every light in your office went out at once. More surprisingly, it seemed like every light in the hallway went out too, for not so much as a glimmer came through the stained glass window at its center.

Then the door’s lock undid itself and swiftly opened…and closed again a moment later. You could hear nothing , the room was silent, save for the music you’d had playing softly from a speaker on the other side of the space. It was thrilling, almost a little scary- you started to push yourself up off the desk to try to look and see if Gaster (or at least his eyelight) was visible-

There was a soft, quick noise of something fabric moving before you on the desk…and then a hand took you by the hair and shoved your head back down again, pinning you back in the position you'd been in moments before. Your cheek impacted some piece of clothing that smelled like Gaster, like his rich cologne, and you gasped at the force behind his grip. The man wasn't being gentle at all! He was pulling your hair so hard it stung, making you moan softly without even meaning to…the moan jumped into a soft cry as a hand impacted your ass hard , a sharp slap that immediately turned into a filthy, shameless grope from behind, his fingers dipping artlessly into your clenching sex for a moment before squeezing and fondling your soft lips in appreciation. Still he hadn't said a word. Still he hadn't made a noise, save for a sharp intake of breath at how soaking wet you were.

“Gas- ah!” He did it again, harder , this time leaving a streak of your own wetness across your other cheek. The sting of it lingered, hot and delicious, made so much more thrilling by how he immediately played with you again, practically tickling your swollen, hot clit for a moment before sliding his fingertips back to glide teasingly over your clenching entrance.

He held you there by the hair and did it three more times, a long pause in between each hard slap as he groped you to his Souls content while you twisted and writhed under his attentions. Fuck, fuck, you'd thought you'd been turned on before? You felt delirious with it now, literally whimpering for his cock, for him to fuck you, for anything . You'd never seen the man like this, never known he'd had it in him, and it was so impossibly fucking hot. 

“You Must Not Look At Goblin Men,” he murmured at last in that deep, rasping, cracking voice of his, “You Must Not Buy Their Fruits…” It felt like a goblin man was behind you, or perhaps some wicked old faery prince out of legend…and that's what he was, wasn't he? You'd swallowed his pomegranate seeds; oh yes you certainly had, over and over and over again…

When you heard the slow, teasing sound of a zipper sliding down, tears rose in your eyes without any preamble, you were that desperate. “Oh god, please yes, please-”

He lined himself up, pressing just the head of his cock into you, forcing you open in that delicious, bullying way of his…and then stopped. You could feel his hand moving, heard his soft, low groan- god damn him, the man was jerking himself off into your body! Sobbing out a desperate moan, you slapped a hand down on your desk, twisting despite his firm grip on your hair to glare at him over your shoulder- you couldn't hardly see him, save for the tiny fairylight of his eye and the eerie glow of his Soul through his shirt, but you knew he could see you. 

Another slap to your ass, making you gasp sharply and drop your head to his sweater atop the desk again- the head of his cock inside you made your eyes roll back, giving your body something huge to clench down on, to flutter around. “Please-” you whispered, arching your back and practically writhing with need, the sting in your scalp and the burn on your cheek combining into something so hot and potent that you felt you might combust….

One of your lamps came on again at the exact moment that Gaster took you by the hip with his other hand, yanked your head up by the hair so you were facing your own reflection, and thrust himself to the root inside you. You'd gotten used to his size, over time- usually it only took a few thrusts for him to work himself in deep now. But he'd never done this before, never used his own strength to simply force himself into you in one impossibly hard thrust…and the light coming on, and his grip in your hair arching your head up, forced you to see your own face contort with pain and pleasure alike as you cried his name. 

The man looked like a demon behind you, like something out of a dark fantasy- he’d yanked his shirt open, and his magic was glowing completely out of control, literally dripping in ultraviolet lines between his ribs as his Soul sparked and churned in his chest. He was grinning like a demon too, not at all worried that you'd just practically screamed the University founder's name in the most obviously sexual, burning way possible. And he wouldn't let you go, wouldn't let you rock forward to escape him at all- his grip on your hip was as iron as his grip in your hair, making you cry and squirm and fight against the huge, hot intrusion inside your pussy. 

“It's too big, it's too-” God you sounded pathetic in the hottest way, a whine more than words- he leaned down and ran his tongue up your spine, licking at the sweat that was already misting your skin there, and hissed as your pitiful begging called that first, delicious little orgasm out of his body. Feeling his cock swell so deeply inside you, feeling it jump and pulse after such a bullying entrance…you went limp in his grip, your eyes rolling back, looking as pornographically fucked as you'd ever seen yourself. Groaning in vicious satisfaction, Gaster pulled out of you entirely, then thrust himself to the base again, laughing darkly at the wet sound of his own cum squirting out of your body around his cock. He did that a few more times, watching your face in the mirror, his eyes narrowing each time he forced himself back in again and your expression crumpled. Then he let go of your hair, pressing his huge hand to your head for a second to soothe your deliciously-aching scalp, before reaching under you to grab you by one breast, and began fucking you madly. 

It would have been mortifying if you’d had the presence of mind to be embarrassed- the noises he was pulling out of you were ungodly. You'd bought these heels specifically in the hope that they'd make you tall enough to do something like this, and the purchase was paying off in dividends- you were the perfect height for him to fuck, though your knees were going weak with sensation. That didn't seem to bother him at all- he dropped his hand from your tit to your hip to match his other and literally held you up like that, your toes brushing the floor as he groaned and growled behind you. 

You'd edged yourself for minutes before he'd arrived, and everything he'd done up until that moment had only driven you higher and higher- the strength of the orgasm you felt coming on was almost frightening. You caught his eye in the mirror, your mouth open and panting as your head rested on your arms. “Oh, oh god…god, god, I …-!!!”

He shook his head. “Come On-” and for all that he'd slapped you around deliciously and made a big show of how tough he was, he sounded as desperate as you felt. “Come On, Let Me Feel It- Cum On My Cock, Pretty Girl, Fuck!”

Your vision went white. Your ears roared like you were fainting- maybe you were, god, you didn't know. Pleasure like you'd never known ripped through you, an indescribable wave of desperation and completion down to your toes and up to your jaw. There were tears on your cheeks- Gaster bent and bit you hard enough on the shoulder blade that you knew he broke skin, could feel the shallow pop and the grinding pain of one incisor, and it only added to the richness of the sensation. 

He yanked your chair over sloppily with magic and collapsed back into it while pulling you with him, his thighs shaking and his hips jumping as he began to cum. The position was insane , so deep and filthy that you cried out again and again- you were completely sprawled open on his lap, your legs spread wide over his spread knees, his cock a glowing rod inside you… and you could see all of it in that damned, blessed mirror. Could see his face as he swung between desperately climbing the next peaks of his pleasure and the slack-jawed satisfaction and release as he fell down the other side, again and again. Could see that you were soaked down to your knees, that his pants were ruined. That your hair was a fucked snarl, your mascara running in streaks- that he'd literally torn his shirt open in impatience to be nearer to you…

He pulled your head down and back until you were resting it in the crook of his neck, scooted down a little in the chair so that you were tilted back, cushioned fully against his body, and whispered, “…God, I Could Again…Are You Okay? Can I-Can I Keep Going?”

You nodded, practically delirious. “Please-” your voice was wrecked, raw. “Please, give it to me…”

“So Greedy...” He began thrusting up slowly into you, and both of you watched as his seed dripped out of your pussy to the floor- like this, it looked like an impossible stretch. Like there was no way he could possibly stuff himself inside you…and yet he did, again and again. “So Fucking Greedy For It…Don't I Give You Enough?”

In lieu of an answer, you only moaned softly, sucking little kisses into his jaw as you raised your shaking arms and wrapped them up around his neck. God, you almost wished you had a picture- posed like that, the two of you were the hottest, most blatantly filthy, most sexual thing you'd ever seen. You, completely spread out bare and open atop him, his hands coming up to play with your nipples. Him, huge and imposing behind you, fucking up slowly into your body and groaning softly with every breath, his pants around one ankle. 

“I Love You So Much,” he murmured, his breath trembling. “You Made Today So Much Easier, Wonderful Little Minx…You Make Everything So Much Easier To Manage, So Much Lighter…My Whole Life, Happier With You In It…”

You closed your eyes, lost in the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his voice in your ear. Honestly, you weren't sure if you'd come again from this- your body was exhausted in the hottest way possible. But it was sinfully gorgeous to watch, and the feeling of him stretching you over and over, thrusting home over and over, was lovely either way. You felt so sensitive that just the touch of his huge, warm hands on your breasts was amazing. He started to stroke your nipples in time with his cock, pulling them softly between his fingertips as he bottomed out inside you, then letting them pop free of his grip again as he rocked back out.

Oh…oh you were going to come again. If he kept that up, you absolutely were.

“That feels so good…” you murmured, pulling one arm from where it was draped around his neck to cup the side of his face with your hand, smiling as you watched him press his cheek to you instantly. “Honey, that feels so good. I…oh god, I don't know what came over me today, I wanted you so badly, I… ah!” 

He took a deep breath. “Marry Me,” he whispered, his eyes closed, his expression open and sweet. “Let This Be The Rest Of Our Lives.”

Oh. 

You blinked, stunned for a moment- you'd expected it soon, but…

He opened his eye and caught your gaze in the reflection, then used one hand to cover your Soul. You hadn't realized until that moment that it had been glowing through your chest, pulsing in time with your heart- sometimes it did that, if given enough magic. Through it all, his hips never stopped, his other hand never stopped…and the pleasure took on something so much sweeter, so much more loving, than you'd thought possible. You'd have never thought that a marriage proposal during sex could be so romantic, so sweet and hot and wonderful before…but you'd have never believed that a man in the throes of passion was being authentic and sincere before.

Not until this one.

“I Had…Fuck, God, I Had Such A Plan For This…” He was slowly speeding inside you, his mouth open and panting against the side of your head. “I…I Wanted It To Be…Better, I Don't… Fuck , Marry Me, Stay With Me. Forever And A Day.”

“Of course I will,” you murmured, smiling and climbing higher and higher. His roughness before had felt amazing, but this right now was so incredibly sweet and hot and thrilling. “Shut up, of course I will. Of course I want to marry you…”

His breath caught at your reply, his legs jumping beneath you. “I…Ah, Fuck…I'm Close…”

“Come on,” You reached down and began playing with yourself fast, rubbing quick circles on your clit, “With me, let me feel you finish inside me while I cum…”

He dropped his head to press his temple to your stinging shoulder, and there were no more words between the two of you. When you came to a shaking, moaning end in his arms, he followed you over…and it took a long, long time for Gaster to finish, then. Long enough that your thighs began to cramp, being spread so wide for so long- he remedied that by simply sweeping your legs to one side, cradling you in his arms like a delightfully perverse princess carry- how often did the hero have his cock still stuffed in the princess? The thought made you giggle, and the shake of your body made Gaster mutter something under his breath and tremble for a second…

After a few minutes of resting there together, you realized something. “Oh no… honey, how the hell are we ever gonna get out of this building without anyone seeing? Look at us…”

Gaster glanced up at the mirror, at the way his shirt was hanging buttonless, at the way his pants on the floor were splattered with glowing purple cum , at the way you looked like sin itself in his arms…and started to giggle madly. That set you off, and soon the two of you were stumbling around like happy, grinning idiots- Gaster to try and find his sweater, and you to hunt for clothing that you'd tossed aimlessly around the room earlier, and try to somewhat fix your hair and makeup.

The grossed-out face he made when he had to reclaim his ‘magic’ from where it had dripped down on his pants was hysterical- you were sitting on the edge of your desk and wiping stray glowing droplets from your legs, and nearly fell over laughing at his expression. You had no idea why that bothered him, but when he rolled his eyes and flicked a tissue at you, it just made you laugh all the harder til there were tears in your eyes… so finally he just gave up and pulled you half-dressed back into his lap, relaxing back on your chair with a happy sigh.

“You Know…That Isn't At All How I Planned The Proposal, For It's Worth. I Had Very Romantic Ideas In Mind.” His Soul thrummed under your shoulder in time with your heartbeat, completely in tune and in sync with you. You turned your head up and pressed a simple little kiss to his cheek as he continued grousing. “Now It Will Seem All Contrived And Mundane If I Ask You Again…Damn Your Tempting, Lovely Little Self.”

Grinning again, you shook your head. “Oh yes, because what could be the more binding promise? A lovely little ring on my finger…or the magic inside my Soul making me immortal thanks to my amazingly handsome and perfect fiancé?”

He snickered, just as he always did when you gave him a silly compliment…and then he grinned enormously, mouthing ‘fiancé’ to himself. “Oh…Oh Fuck It. Here.” He kept one arm and hand around your trembling thighs, and reached with his other toward the floor, where his sweater had fallen off the desk- he'd given up putting it back on over his torn shirt, at least for the time being. It wiggled, bouncing and leaping across the floor like it was alive for a moment, and then a little box slipped out of the pocket and flew up into his beckoning fingers.

Smiling, with tears in your eyes, you held up a hand. “Hold on one second, before you open that.” He watched with curiosity as you staggered off his lap, kicking off your heels halfway across the room in lieu of the pair of emergency flats you kept in the corner, then grabbed your purse off the couch. Returning to him, you checked for stray fluids , then sat back down on the desk between his legs. Of course, he had to lean forward and hug you for a second, pressing his face to your chest and nuzzling there.

“Wait, love- look.” You pushed him back with a finger on his chest. “See, I kinda figured you'd get something for me soon…and I wanted to be prepared, cause I know Monsters do it a little differently…”

God, the look on his face was a rare gift as you pulled a little jewelry box out of your purse- complete surprise, turning to pure excitement and happiness. You took the ring from the box and put it in his palm gently, tacitly ignoring how his hand trembled. “It's bespelled to fit your finger if you want to wear it that way, and I know you work with a lot of electricity, so I made sure it wasn't conductive…”

He opened his fingers, cocking his head at the deceptively simple little band…and then his eye got wide.

Adamantium was an inherently magical metal, impossible to find on the surface, and the ring had cost you a fortune. But the benefits of it were endless, especially for him. It was hyper-resistant to damage and completely insulated; electricity simply couldn't flow through adamantium. More importantly…it was timeless. Adamantium never faded, never corroded or scratched. In a thousand years, the ring would look exactly the same as it did now. A simple jet-black band, inlaid with tiny sapphires. On the inner surface, a simple engraving of the Monster rune for, ‘Forever’. Gaster blinked…and slid it on his right hand, on the third finger, like Monsters wore them. 

Then he motioned toward the little jewelry box you were still holding. “Open That,” He murmured, his expression unreadable. You did…and had to laugh softly.

An adamantium ring, delicate and beautiful, the black metal shimmering with a single, beautiful diamond. 

“Great minds think alike…” you murmured, taking it from its box. Something on the sides caught your eye- a silvery shimmer, tiny and detailed…you held it up, then stared at Gaster, shaking your head. “Wait…you didn't.” He smiled, proud of himself. “She Would Have Wanted Me To, I Assure You. Origami Helped In The Cutting And Setting Of It- She Is The Last Talismanseri Amongst Our People.”

As fine and delicate as anything you'd ever seen, two tiny curved fronds of what were obviously the bottom miniscule curls of a silvery, metal feather were pressed into the sides of the ring. 

Putting it on, you suddenly had to lean forward and hide your face in his chest, scrambling into his lap and letting out a tiny scream of excitement as you hugged him tight. “Oh my god, oh my god…we're engaged.” 

He squeezed you so hard back that it took your breath away. 

-

Dinner was delicious and beautiful- Gaster almost regretted not paying attention to a second of it. He'd sneaked you out a back exit of the University, using the same trick of his Maegister-self that he'd used to put a taboo on the hallway outside of your office (keeping nosy listeners away as he'd fucked you silly). After a quick stop at home to change, he'd driven you over to the restaurant at Waterfall, the two of you giggling like happy idiots every time your rings clicked together when you held hands.

And all through the meal, a wonderful, coursed event with a variety of fusion surface and Underground dishes, he'd only been able to stare at you. His fiancé. Promised, ordained. Something he'd have never thought in a million years was in the stars for him. You told him about your day and joked about this and that, and all he could do was prop his weary head in his hand, and admire the blue glimmer of the Waterfall lights against your features- he was too awestruck for anything else.

Sans texted sometime over dessert. 

‘it ain't that serious, but if ya wanna hear about it, im makin brunch tomorrow’

You glanced at his phone midway into a bite of sorbet, and shrugged. “How much worse could it be than ‘immortal psycho wants to kill everybody and probably can’? At least we get a quiche and a mimosa out of it.”

“Pre-Apocalyptic Mimosas. How Lovely.”

Notes:

These adorable little perverts, I swear.

Next, we get to learn what Sans knows...and everything he doesn't.

(Comments help author hearts go doki doki- let me know what you think! And follow me on tumblr @beewritesstuff for updates, nonsense, and fanart!)

Chapter 27: Hieros Gamos

It was good that Papyrus had insisted on buying a large house on the surface, one with a good sized kitchen and a dining room that sat ten- with the three Skeletons, you, and the young mage, Frisk, as well as Alphys, Eddie, Poppy, and two of Gerson the Historian's people all there, things were getting crowded. Frisk was a quiet teen, with absolutely beautiful auburn hair and blood-red eyes, and they shyly sat next to you the moment you arrived. 

“Humor them, if you don't mind,” Eddie whispered. “They don't get much human time these days.”

You nodded, but after a few minutes, realized there was no humoring needed. They were perfectly pleasant to spend time around, polite and sharp. 

After Sans finished his long explanation of what he'd seen under the Mountain and propped his head in his hands with exhaustion, nobody said a word. Finally, Alphys broke the silence with a single, terse, “Fuck,” as she peeled the skin off a grape. 

“Yeah.” You were holding the loop for Frisk as they practiced a complicated friendship bracelet pattern, both of you sitting at the kitchen table next to Sans- everyone else had settled into the open, connected living room. “I couldn't agree more.”

Papyrus yawned hugely, flipping pancakes at the stove. “SO WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? WHAT DOES IT TELL US?”

Again, silence, as everyone looked at each other or stared at the floor. Of course the subject would be painful for them all, of course they would be scared to even consider it. But still…

Finally, you couldn't stand the silence any longer.

“It tells us that she can be killed.” You said it quietly,  and everyone turned to look at you, except Gaster, who'd vanished onto the kitchen floor the moment Papyrus had told him their dishwasher had stopped working. “It's the only explanation, right? She's vulnerable, somehow, despite apparently being tapped into an infinite well of power or whatever. Why else would she have such a virulent, hostile reaction to something as assumedly common as a piece of rock falling? She's camped out in an impact crater, for god's sake- rocks are gonna fall.” 

Sans nodded,. “great minds think alike- all i could imagine was a damn toddler, screaming her lungs out and throwing toys around. it was completely uncontrolled- a huge burst of power, sure, but no more brains than you can blow out your nose. all determination, but no intention behind it. never felt anything like it.”

Gaster, now shoulder-deep in the plumbing, winced. “Do You Think There's Even The Slightest Chance That She Detected You? Don't Be Brave For Us- Be Honest.”

“i wouldn't bother putting on a show for you all- no, i really don't think so. i tested it, it…it's hard to explain what it's like down there. i could do more with my magic, things i can't up here. i tested her, sent out feelers, pretend teleports- i don't have a better description than that, so don't ask -and she didn't react to any of them. only to physical stimuli. a rock, a bit of sand, a huge fuckin’ cave spider that got sacrificed to make it seem like that was what knocked things down on her…sorry, little guy. those things made her go ballistic, over and over. but not me. not magic, at least not ambient magic. academic magic? dunno, wasn't willing to test it.”

“She knows we're getting closer to her…or, she can sense that something is happening to her story that never happened before, and maybe it's making her go crazy.” Frisk's fingers flew as they thought aloud,  “Her power is…different from mine. It's quiet, really quiet. I never even noticed it, all these years, until Doctor Gaster got hurt- I felt it then, but only because she had to step in in a really big and dramatic way. She doesn't prefer that. She prefers being sneaky. She's been doing little things…but I don't know if she knows exactly what she's doing, if that makes sense. I don't think she's changing what happens to get a different result, I think she's willing a different result into being real, and the universe follows the most likely path to it. Or at least leaning the odds toward that different result.”

“Working backwards in a choose-your-own-adventure book,” you murmured, crumbling a scone between your fingertips once Frisk took their bracelet away. “She doesn't know what gets that ending until she sees it, but she can still try to find the ending…jesus christ. What can we even do against that?”

Frisk nodded, looking troubled. “Yeah. I…I don't know if I can go against her. She's so quiet with it, like…she's really good. I don't know how to predict or stop something that only exists after it's been done. Something that happens and then works its way backwards to, like, justify the thing that happened. I only sense it when I update my saves. I can tell something changed from the previous one…barely.”

Flipping pancakes, uncharacteristically quiet until that moment, Papyrus half turned to face the teen. “YOU HUMANS AND YOUR WEIRD MAGIC THAT MAKES NO SENSE…WHAT IF YOU SAVED A ‘GOOD’ COPY? A SEPARATE SAVE, ONE THAT YOU, HMMMM, PUT A FIREWALL ON, AND CAN GET PHISHING ALERTS FOR? CAN YOU DO THAT?”

Sans watched with interest as Gaster stilled, ducking back out of the dishwasher to blink at his youngest brother, and then at Frisk, cocking his head. “...Huh.”

Frisk did nearly the same thing, staring back at Gaster. Then, hesitantly, they said, “...I can make the SAVE. I've never tried to make more than one before, but it shouldn't be impossible. But…I don't know how to ‘filter’ it that way, or how to make it separate or protected from the other.”

“I Could Perhaps Help With That Part. It Would Be The Inverse Of Predictive Magic- Improvident Reactivity, Programmed To Sustain And Monitor The Current, Exact Path And Report Extrinsic Influences Versus Inherent Changes Due To Personal Choice…But How To Filter Exclusivity For Only Her Touch? How Do We Isolate Antithetical Events Before The End Sequeli Are Selected?”

“and doesn't that mean we risk taking out all of our opportunities for chance, or, i dunno, ‘good luck’? too much over-focus on the quantum conceptual stability, and we’d lock ourselves down to one ‘branch’, and hope to god it’s the right one.” The idea of it visibly bothered Sans, in a nebulous, leashed-dog kind of way. “i’m not sure that's better.”

You groaned and put your head in your hands, making Frisk grin a little despite their trepidation. “This is too theoretical for me. It's like talking in magic circles- I’m useless for any of it. The subject is way too far out of my wheelhouse of study. I'm still reeling from how you all explained this little troublemaker's magic to me, it’s just…unimaginable.”

“SAME FOR ME.” Papyrus sat a large platter of pancakes down on the table, then went back for syrup and butter. “MY MAGIC ISN'T GOOD FOR ALL OF THIS BRAINIAC NERD STUFF. I NEED SOMETHING CONCRETE TO WORK ON. IF I COULD GET MY HANDS ON HER, I COULD- YOU KNOW -MAKE HER FEEL ALL SORTS OF WAYS ABOUT HERSELF.  BUT I'M NO HELP UNTIL THEN.”

Everyone was quiet for a few moments, thinking unsure thoughts and watching the quiche steam…until Gaster wrenched to attentiveness again so quickly that he almost hit his head on the interior rim of the dishwasher. He swore, ducking low, and Sans made a ‘shooing’ motion with his hands. “share your thoughts with the class, and get out of there before you kill yourself. stars in the freakin’ sky, no sense of ‘taking it easy’...”

His brother ignored him, his gaze focused on you and Papyrus. “No, Wait…Papyrus, You're A Genius. That's Exactly What We Need.” 

“YES, THANK YOU. AN OBVIOUS ASSUMPTION-”

“No, Dipshit- Listen.” He gestured toward you as everyone else grinned at the exchange. “She And I Are Discovering More And More Aspects Of Non-Mage Intrinsic Magics Amongst Humans, At Least Of Her Soul Spectrum, Every Day.” Briefly, and while occasionally glazing over parts that were probably a bit too emotional or personal for the prickly eldest brother to want to share, he explained the strange seeking the two of you had done for the crop experiments, and his further hypothetical thought that they could use you almost as a ‘reality radar’. 

“By Nature, She Detects Truths, Intrinsic Truths. The ‘True Right Path’ Toward A Result Or Accomplishment, The Path Lined With Integrity.” He gestured toward Papyrus. “Under Your Influence…I Wonder How Much That Could Be Heightened. If That Could Be The ‘Firewall’ Frisk Suggested.”

Papyrus fixed his eye on you. “HMMMMM…THAT COULD BE FUN.”

“...Oh lord...”

-

The next week was a whirlwind of activity, one where you got to see your man shine with brilliance. Here was the genius inventor, the cutting-edge miracle worker and systems engineer, rather than the exhausted, haggard catastrophe-fixer; it was a beautiful thing to see. In two days- once you'd agreed to the experiment -Gaster had selected a few of his closest, most trusted employees to help. It ended up being Alphys, Poppy, Eddie,  a small team of others, and two specific Monsters you'd never seen before that he expressly asked for by name. They all moved their base of operations into the surface rec center where Papyrus's birthday had been, and where Gaster and Sans had secondary office space for the administrative aspects of their work. Thanks to magic, the interior of the building was practically renovated faster than the county could sign the lease paper. The entire second day, while construction happened around everyone, Gaster oversaw the total purification of the space, performed by hooded and veiled priest-warriors of the Star Temple. It would make the resident Monsters deeply uncomfortable, Doctor Alphys told you as the two of you watched at a distance from the strange, twinkling figures while they stood silent and still at the center of the largest room. 

“All p-places have a m-magical essence, a signature.” She tapped her beautiful, silver claws quietly on the tabletop before her, gazing out of the shielded observation room. It was the only space, once the priests finished, where standard magics would continue functioning as usual. “They're d-deleting this one. The r-r-remnants of every s-spell ever c-cast here, gone. The s-s-signature of every M-Monster or human, erased. As n-new as if it w-was a new p-piece of land from the big b-b-bang.”

“Is that bad? Will it make people sick?”

“No, it's g-good in a lot of ways. It's d-d-done in, like, lesser s-scale occasionally even in our l-labs, or in the p-p-palaces. Too much mmm-magic sitting around everywhere st-starts to rot. But this is g-gonna be like the S-S-Star T-Temple itself, completely d-devoid of any extraneous influence. It f-feels…w-weird. Like…if you were w-walking on a b-bunch of dried l-leaves, and suddenly t-they just stopped cr-crunching. It wouldn't hurt…b-but you'd be mmm-missing s-something that you'd expect to b-be there, right? It's l-like that.”

“Huh.” Something occurred to you then. “Wait, I see magic sometimes…is it gonna bother me, I wonder?”

“Mmm-maybe. But n-not for l-long. It's g-gonna be absolutely saturated with you, F-F-Frisk, Papyrus, G-Gaster, and Zip-” She pointed out the lightning sprite relaxing at the far end of the room, one of a pair of sisters “-soon. Sh-she and Zing are G-Gaster's favorite Enhancers; M-Monsters that make other M-Monsters stronger.”

You bit your lip for a moment, unsure of exactly where you stood with this woman, who was somewhere between an acquaintance, a coworker, and a friend. “So…Doctor Alphys, I have to be honest. Conceptually, I still don't at all understand what we're doing here. No one has really had the time to point it out to me, which I'm not mad about- I know everyone is pulling unimaginable favors to get this done, and it's only because of the urgency and the nature of the emergency that it's happening so fast. But…please, do you have any idea what I'm going to be doing here? Like actually, functionally doing?”

“Frisk makes a tangible save,” she gave up on verbosity, switching to sign, “With Gaster imbuing it with a…oh, sort of like a consciousness, kind of? Not an artificial intelligence, but a limited awareness, an in-built prescience, like his. Then, Papyrus empowers you- thats's his thing, kinda -and you give it, um…” Alphys waved her hands for a moment, searching for the words. “You give it truth, you invert Gaster's power- predicting the present, not the future. You decide, magically, ‘The real world is the one that the Red Mage doesn't fuck around with’ and then you convince the spell that it should believe that too, and then we use it as a way to hunt for disparities and stop them before she can make them happen. You’re making a weapon, a reality minesweeper and a gun at the same time. Or, well, you're programming the weapon.”

That made you wince. “Happy to be of service, I guess.”

---

An ageless priestess, one who hadn’t taken the starsilence vow, sipped politely on the cup of tea that had been brought for her as she bargained with Gaster for the Temple’s help in what he thought might be the most heightened, powerful, and experimental magical working that had been performed in a thousand years, save for maybe his own resurrection. Her assistant, a young novice with glittering blue and purple scales- a Pseudodragon, an incredibly rare type of Monster -readied herself with writing materials and, rather anachronistically compared to the robes and sacred prayer beads she wore, a tablet with a keyboard attached.

Her tea finished and formalities met, and with Gaster promising a truly eyewatering sum from the Royal Treasury as a donation, the Rosesprite sat back in her chair. “Fine. We move forward. First, of course, is the matter of archetypes for this working. Which would the human respond best to?” The woman pulled her hands out of her sleeves and splayed out a series of ten illustrated cards, the thinly carved and dyed wood flipping gracefully over her three fingered, vine-like appendages. “The moonlit Priestess, perhaps? Or maybe she looks to authority, and would prefer a Sage? Does she yearn for her mother, or for family? If so, the Matriarch may serve her best, or Patriarch if she preferred the father…”

Gaster thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I Don't Think Any Of Those Fit, Celestial One.” He didn't often go to the Temple, and found the woman and the strange feeling of her subtle power unnerving…and was trying his best not to show it. “She's Intelligent And Independent, The Leader Of Her Small Family. She Doesn't Often Disappear Into Daydream, Or Nostalgia For Her Past Or Her Childhood. She Is A Strong, Positive Woman.”

“What does she like, then? What strikes her fancy, or captures her imagination? What books does she read, movies does she watch?”

Her line of questioning went on, but Gaster was too distracted to hear it- his eye was drawn to the last card of the thirteen Archetypes that the temple could summon for this type of high magic. It was half-tucked under the one beside it- The Seer -and glimmered in beautiful dark pigments. On its painted surface, he saw the glitter of scales and the curve of a horn.

“This One,” he murmured, cutting her off without meaning to. The priestess cocked her head, a tiny smile curving her lips for a moment. She wasn't used to being so easily interrupted- what a novel experience! He tapped a white fingertip on the thin wood, sliding it out to reveal a card named, ‘The Wyrm ’. “In Honor Of Ancestor Rainbow, Who Died Fighting To Defend Reason. And In Honor Of Her Own Preferences, And Her Fascination With The Lore And Image Of The Ancient Ones.” ‘And,’ he added silently , ‘Because her doped up sibling might have had a moment of mad insight. Dragons eating wizards, indeed.’ Who could afford to ignore any divine providence or assistance? From the mouths of madmen, after all.

“A difficult archetype to embody in ritual, my good Doctor.” Her voice was ever so slightly teasing, but Gaster didn't even notice it. His focus was on his power- yes, this card was the right choice. Of each of the thirteen he considered, this archetype alone rang with potential, a quiet chime of opportunity. “Difficult both in mind, and in body. We do not often bother to do so, except at the holiday pageants and in divine comedies, and even then only shallowly. The movements, the subtleties-”

“...I could do it.”

Both of them turned to look at the young Pseudodragon, whose scales were blushing violet as she stared at the table, not meeting either older Monster's eye. “I-I could, um…I've completed my novice’s courses. I just haven't had my vigil…and it's not unheard of for an adept to do an embodiment!”

The Rosesprite stared at her for a moment, tapping a plush, thorned lip with a ‘fingertip’. “And this is something you would feel confident in doing, Lutiic? There can be no hesitance in the Wyrm, no uncertainty in one's self or actions. They are a proud, haughty constellation. They do not, cannot, doubt their own actions or words.”

The young woman- Lutiic, apparently -nodded. “My dad…” Then she looked up at Gaster, for some reason. As if she was trying to convince him. “My dad is on one of the excavating crews, following the new pathways that Mister Sans found for us. I'm so scared that he'll find… her …before we're prepared.” Resolve came into her eyes. “I'll do anything to help him. Even if it means doing magic on a human.”

“I Believe You.” He wasn't sure what to say to this young woman, who should have been looking to her mistress for approval but looked to him instead. He also didn't want to risk offending the priestess. “I Truly Do.”

“Ah…then fate decides for us, with all the stars in their courses.” The Rosesprite gave her young assistant a wry look. “You have more preparatory work to do than you will for your Mastertry trial- it will seem trivial to you, after this. Perhaps your Adept years will have to be accelerated- no one touches such a constellation and remains unchanged. You may not recognize yourself when all is done. And you cannot allow old grievances or bigotries to influence you. The Wyrm sees all other beings as lesser than itself, not just humanity. You will scoff at your own body, will turn your nose up at your own Soul and dust, forever lesser than the thing you once touched.”

Novice Lutiic gulped…but still, she nodded. “I…I understand. I know embodiment is…altering.”

“Indeed.” The priestess turned back to Gaster. “Then once again, us old fogeys are put in the hands of the youthful, to pray that the world does not change too severely around us.” Then she snorted out a laugh at the perturbation on his face. “Honored Doctor Gaster, you appear as though you are afraid I will eat you. I assure you, marrow does not hold too much temptation for these withered roots. Speak candidly with me. Am I so difficult to look at?”

Her words made him smile, a little. “No, Revered Speaker. Of Course Not. Ah…I Do Not Often Cross Paths With The Temple, You Could Say. I've Never Found Myself The Type Of Man To Feel Drawn To Service, With All Due Respect To You And Yours. I Suppose I Am…Theologically Unsettled, In A Way.”

“Child, do you think the Stars become offended if we give offerings to them or not?” There was amusement in every line of her emerald-green and fawn face. “Do you think that the lifeclouds at their hearts would refuse to burn without our rituals? That they would cease in the creation of life and matter without our hymns?”

He shook his head, momentarily taken aback at being called ‘child' by a woman doubtless centuries younger than him.

“Just so.” She stood suddenly. “Each of us is drawn to live below their courses as we see fit, and they continue in the jobs they were given by Heaven no matter if we natter at them or not. It is for our good, not theirs, that we give them honor…and worship for one man is empty words for another. Still, the sky keeps turning, no matter which man prays.”

Lutiic half tripped over her robe to follow her mistress as, with a deep bow to him, the priestess left without another word…and Gaster truly didn't know what to make of the whole thing. By the time it even occurred to him that he should stand, and bow, and perhaps walk the two women out, the door to his office was already swinging closed behind them. 

---

Zing was showing you pictures of her niece, a blue-tinged little fluff of ball lightning wrapped in fuzzy yellow blankets and cooing at the camera, when a feminine voice came from behind you. 

“Human? Come here.”

Cocking a brow, you turned, about to say something lightly sarcastic- perhaps the speaker would prefer to call you ‘hominid’ instead, for further accuracy? The words died in your mouth, however, when a new Monster woman, some six and half feet tall, wearing the robes of the Star Temple, her face somehow made of tightly curled and overlapping blush-red petals and surrounded by a halo of greenery and thorns, beckoned to you. “Here, to me. Let me look at you.” The graceful gesture of her hand, concealed in a deceptively simple robe of a deep blue-black, drew your eye to the long opening of her draping sleeve, making you step closer as you tried to get a better look. You could have sworn that tiny lights glittered in its shadowy depths, as if they were tremendously bright…but at an impossible distance within…

Gentle, firm fingers gripped your chin. Instinctively you tried to pull away, and found that you couldn't- those fingertips were rapidly growing, wrapping up and around your jaw, under your ears. The sense of confinement made you clench your teeth. “Defiance in the eyes-” Her gaze dropped to your chest, and you watched as a thin, green layer, like the delicate outside skin of a seed, flicked over her solid black eyes. “-and strength in the Soul. Hmmm.” 

“Please take your hand off me.” You said it with cold politeness- regardless of who this woman might be, and it was obvious she spoke with authority, you wouldn't let any stranger touch you the way she was. Those long, thin fingers had already grown to meet at the base of your skull, and you swore you could feel the tips gently prodding along there, questing through your hairline, like creeper vines testing the mortar between bricks for weak spots. 

“No.” She sounded coldly amused. “I am Witherchant, priestess and Speaker of the Star Temple. Ah…a cobalt Soul, the foundation of Jauzah…auspicious, to hunt the carmine Hyena…hmmm…” Her eyes cleared again, and in those bug-like, solid black orbs, you saw your own reflection. Someone moved behind the priestess, but you had no thought to spare for them- something had begun tickling at the entrance to your right ear. 

“Let go of me now.” You gripped the woman's wrist, your hand firm, and raised your other hand to cover your ear. “Right now, Witherchant. You need to stop.” Almost without meaning to, you leaned into the intention of the words- a command to be obeyed, and a demand for autonomy to be respected -and an eternal something recently and newly awakened within you agreed that the intention matched the goal… and thus was…

truth

somethingpowernew

…INTEGRITY .

Surprise came over the other woman's face- she withdrew her touch so hastily that a stray rose thorn on her ‘finger’ left a tiny cut beside your eye, close to your temple. Your breath caught for just a moment, instinctive nervousness at even a superficial cut so close your eye that made your belly clench, before you inwardly shook yourself and glared at the woman. “That was not appropriate, with all due respect. A word of advice- humans don't like being touched, or held in place, without permission. An inch into my ear, and you could have deafened me permanently. Another inch, and you could have caused damage severe enough to kill, or maim at least.” 

She blinked, staring at you with such a strange expression that you almost took a step back from her…Gaster's bristling entrance into the room made her take a step back, a Maegister’s presence and command filling the air around him like tangible substances as he stepped up beside you and put an arm around your waist. For a second, none of you said anything…and then a tiny, secretive smile spread across the priestesses face. “Ah Doctor Gaster…already she speaks with your authority, demands obedience as if she shares your very nature…and isn't that interesting? Perhaps there is a secret there that you shall share with us all someday…?” She tucked her hands serenely into her robes. “In all of my lives, I have never seen such a thing…what beautiful, beautiful times we live in. Now, and only now, do I give my approval- the woman is strong, defiant, and powerful in her will. All things she shall need- the Temple will assist in this working. We shall return in seven days. There are rites to be done.” Before either of you could say anything in response, she bowed deeply, straightened, and guided the robed, hooded Monster behind her out a nearby doorway. Her fellow priests filed out instantly and silently behind her.

Watching them leave while trying, and failing, to find the right words to express your befuddlement, you finally shrugged helplessly and looked up at your man. “I…thought they were helping already?”

“The Temple Provides Zero-Dark Services To Any Monster Or Facility That Requests Them. A Way, They Believe, Of Bringing The Void Of The Stars Down To Earth.” He massaged the back of his neck, sighing. “My Goal, However, Is A Tremendous Elevation Of That; To Have One Of Their Archetypists Assist In The Working Itself, To Encourage Your Empowerment. Seemingly, We Have Earned The Speakers Approval.”

“And…what will that look like for me? I don't know, will it hurt?” You'd do it, even if the answer was yes, but you wanted to be prepared.

“Hurt? No, I Doubt It. It Will Be More…A Test Of Will, I Think.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, looking far too weary for your liking. “Papyrus Will Give You Magical, Um…Weight, I Suppose You Could Say. Magical Confidence. Then The Temple’s Chosen Priestess Will Guide You In…A Magical Visualization, Of Sorts. An Empowerment, Though An Untested One. It Hasn't Been Done With A Human In Recorded History, But I Believe You Could Look At The Seer And Her Human Companion For An Example Of A Similar Symbiotic Relationship.” He steered you toward a series of comfortable desk chairs in the room. “And Then This Is The Part I Can't Give You A Step By Step Instruction Guide For- You Will Convince The Magical Talisman That Frisk And I Make Together That It Must Despise The Workings Of The Scarlet Mage. It Must Preserve An Image Of The World, In Real Time, As It Would Look Without Her Interference. And I Leave The Interpretation Of That Up To You.” Holding your eye, Gaster lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there.“You Are The Most Important Part, The ‘Filter’ Or ‘Firewall’ In Frisk's Allegory. However You Chose To Interpret This Working, However You Decide To Direct That Final, Crucial Step…I Trust You. And It May Well Come To Pass That This Is A Fruitless Effort, That Intrinsic Human Magic Simply Cannot Be Combined With So Many Layers Of Magical Workings This Way…But I Don't Think So. I Believe You Can Do It.”

You gazed up at him, horribly nervous, but…”You’ve ‘seen’? There's a chance?”

“The Entire Idea Rings With Possibility, Yes. I Believe There's Far More Than A ‘Chance’. I Think You Are The Most Important Piece.” Sighing hugely, he let his head fall back against the chair. “Which Means For The Next Week, I Need To Gather Power Like I Haven't In Centuries, For Your Soul To Draw On And Transmute. How Exhausting.”

The disgust in his voice made you chuckle. “Is it so tiring to do?”

“To Maintain Constant Focus And Meditation For Hours On End, Over The Next Week Straight? Stars, Yes. I'm Afraid You Won't Find Much Entertainment From Me Over Those Days.”

“That's okay,” you murmured, smiling at him. “We have forever afterward.”

He blinked…then grinned boyishly. “I Suppose We Do, Don't We?”

-

On the first day of that seven day lead-up, you received countless deliveries- clothing, shoes, tea mixes, even a ring and necklace made of some shivering, stark white metal, all of it with strict instructions that you should wear nothing else than what was provided, drink nothing else than what was provided, and eat nothing else than what would be provided every day. The meals came in the form of deliveries every morning, packaged in beautiful porcelain and ceramic dishware, all of it labeled with firm instructions to break the pottery the moment you were done using it, then bury the pieces in the ground. The food was obviously laced with magic to the highest degree, and by the third morning you were seeing the outlines of magic and power in the world around you more strongly than you ever had in your life. Though you hated to destroy such beautiful works of art, it almost became cathartic to smash the dishware to pieces after every meal, in a special place you'd picked in the woods behind your home. It was the only loud noise you experienced throughout the day- you'd turned your phone and laptop off completely after sending the necessary messages to your co-workers and friends, and felt no interest in TV or any other type of media. 

Instead, you spent your days wandering the woods behind your house, or driving to the Mountain and hiking deeply onto its base to places seldom touched by others, accompanied by a little more than a backpack, a thermos of the tea provided, and a few bottles of water. By the second day you'd already fallen into a pattern of waking at dawn and feeling sleepy at dusk, returning home at sundown to heat whatever dinner had been provided for you and eat out on your back porch, watching as the air rippled like a heat mirage around your partner where he set a silent and still as a statue every day after waking. He had dragged a wooden deck chair out to the middle of your yard, under the shade of one of your trees, and spent hours in meditation there gathering power to himself. The two of you spoke little to each other during the day, but he held you tightly every night as you whispered your affection. Explanations and questions could come later, when the work was done.

The clothing they provided was interesting too - not exactly fashionable, since it was all made of completely natural materials, loose and flowing, and dyed In various shades of blues, silvers, grays, soft purples, and blacks, but lovely in its own way. None of it had a single metal fastener or button- they were all made of shell and wood, or the pieces simply tied on, as was also the case for the simple undergarments they provided. The instructions from the Star Temple said you could wear what you wished when you wished, but demanded that you keep the ring and necklace on at all times. 

As the fifth day dawned, and you slid from your bed in an odd, pensive mood, you looked down and realized that the metal had turned a deep, sapphire blue.

You had no words for the change that overcame you then, as if some subtle working enacted upon you had finally reached its zenith. You turned back, gazing at the blankets where your man still slept, exhausted by the concentration he was expending from dawn to dusk every day, and a bodiless sense of compassion filled you that was completely separate from your love for him. The feeling only grew as you wandered along a creek some mile into the woods behind your house, not feeling up to driving that day… you should have been shocked, awed even, when you looked down and realized that your bare feet were standing atop the surface of the shallow water along the edge of the babbling little brook, not in it…

But you weren't. It only filled you with simple joy. 

Perhaps someday you would look back at this time, if you remembered it, with amazement. Perhaps you would look back and wonder just what the Star Temple was changing within you to prepare you for such an enormous magical working, to wonder what they were doing to shape you into a basin wide enough to hold the power needed to challenge an ancient great mage…but that time would come. You didn't care about it. You didn't care about anything even a moment into the future. One of the pairs of sandals that the temple had given you lay forgotten somewhere back along the trail - you smiled, realizing with a distant fondness for yourself that they must have known such a thing would probably happen. They had included dozens of pairs of shoes, all of them beautiful works of leather, some closed and some open.

Oddly, you didn't feel the chill of autumn on your skin at all. The dove-gray skirt you'd picked that morning was thin and flowing, the top a sleeveless, loose shirt somewhere between a tunic and a kurta in a beautiful shade of deep evening-blue, and you felt as warm and comfortable as if it was a spring day. Even the water against the soles of your feet felt warm and comforting, as if the world itself was embracing you. And all throughout the morning, some soft, distant sound, like the faintest, faintest breaths of a woman's voice singing, came to your ear every so often. When you finally realized what direction you heard it coming from, you nearly wept- it was the Mountain, you were hearing the Mountain. You couldn't see it through the trees, and yet you could- her grandeur, her height, so unique and huge as she towered over the foothills and ridges surrounding her.

Her…

When had you started thinking of that huge, beautiful landmark as female?

Ah, well. You could worry about that later, if you needed to.

You knew you were well into Monster territory by then - you only owned the two acres of forest behind your house, the rest of it part of the lands given to the Dreemur kingdom. Perhaps that was why you felt so safe, so light- your body quite literally felt light, like moving it was effortless, even though the meals they’d been providing were huge and delicious. No austere fasting or simplicity for Monsters- no indeed! Just as easily as you'd cried in wonder, you smiled at the thought of the care being put into this for you. On that first day, you'd gone for a walk to think, to plan, to decide where you should look for inspiration or wisdom on how to shape your thoughts, and thus shape the magic that you were being entrusted with. Then the Star Temple’s magics had begun to take effect, and such worries had faded from your mind…

How silly you had been. Inspiration? Wisdom? 

Look around you, girl.

The ground beneath you was a shield, a life-giving organ ten miles deep, leading to the next layer of the planet, and then the next, and the next. The air above you was a field of protection, of preservation- the atmosphere, the magnetic fields of the Earth herself, sustaining that which was Right and True. Various times during your education, different teachers in the natural sciences had emphasized the wonder that was life in the universe, the impossibility of it in the cold, silent expanse of space. There was nowhere you could go that you weren't constantly surrounded by the most intrinsic, important act of Integrity ever done in the history of the universe itself- the planet had danced Life into existence and preserved it every moment of every passing day by holding to an impossibly beautiful, impossibly complex set of laws, coincidences, and chances. 

Of Truths.

…

What was Integrity? You stepped out onto the deeper water, staring down into its depths, at the little minnows swimming undisturbed there.

It was honesty, even when a lie would be more advantageous. 

It was wholeness, even when division would be simpler.

…

It was the preservation of that which was good and right, in the face of impossible adversity.

And so be it.

…

 

Noise in the woods behind you made you turn calmly- The King's Blessing was everywhere on the forest, and you could feel, could see, Asgore's red-gold protection like a father's hand. No harm outside of the natural order would come to anyone here. 

Gaster stepped out of a small cluster of bushes, their leaves beautiful reds and oranges in the changing seasons- he blinked, cocking his head as he stared at you for a moment, his gaze flicking down to the water then back up at your face with amazement. Wordlessly, you held your hands out to him- come, and follow me.  

Joy sang in your heart as he didn't even hesitate, stripping off his socks and shoes and walking towards you. There was no splash of water, no disturbance of its surface- when he reached you, he swept you into an embrace, shaking his head in wonder. “You're So Warm,” he murmured, running his hands down your arms. The warm sunlight of early evening glowed on his face, highlighted by violet, shimmering waves of his magic as it pulsed across his body, plainly originating from his Soul. “Is This Where You've Been Every Day?”

“Something like it.” You sounded dreamy, unfocused, though your mind was calmer, stiller, and more laser-sharp than it had ever been in your life. He ran his hands down your back again, then again…you smiled when you realized what he was feeling for. You hadn't bothered to put on a bra or underwear that morning, wanting as little between you and the world as possible. 

“I Felt You. From The House, I Felt…Something Change.” He glanced down at the water again. “Is This…Purposeful?”

“I didn't want to disturb them,” you said softly, gesturing to the little fish, “So I didn't.”

“...I See.” You could tell he wanted to ask more, wanted to learn all he could about the little miracle you had performed here all on your own…but he didn't. Instead, he took you gently by the chin, and tilted your face up so he could look into your eyes. “...Are You Happy?”

It seemed like a non-sequitur, but you knew it wasn't. If he was asking, then it was something he'd been thinking of for some time, something that was worrying him. And so you blessed him with Truth, while you had the power to do so.

“I've never been happier in my entire life than I am now, with you.” He'd never been so beautiful in your eyes as he was then; as you spoke in a way he couldn't doubt or question and shy, simple joy bloomed over his features in response. “I love you like I never thought I would love someone.” 

“And Nothing Hurts? You Aren't… Discomforted By This Process?”

You shook your head, turning to press a kiss to his fingers. “I don't think anything new is being… added …to me. I think they-” you knew he'd understand you meant the Star Temple “- are just fostering something that was already there, something that ordinary life would probably get in the way of. Or maybe it would get in the way of ordinary life- I wouldn't be able to stand being in the city right now, or even working at the hospital. It would be too…loud. Too much.”

He nodded. Then, in a rush, “This Is…Amazing, I…I Don't Want To Distract You, I-If You Need Solitude, I-”

The man was so off-balance at the sight of you that he was stuttering, his low voice rough with nerves- if you'd been in a different frame of mind, you might have wondered what about your appearance- besides the strange little magic keeping you above the water's surface -had him so off-kilter. But as it was, you considered your options, then reached up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down enough that you could kiss him. 

Gaster melted into the kiss, a loud groan leaving him that he instantly choked back, his hands going tight on your waist. Ah. You smiled against his lips, running your fingers down his chest- he was dressed for home in a rare pair of jeans and a soft sweater, and the sight of such casual clothing on him, as it always did, filled you with warm appreciation. Pulling back enough to speak, you whispered, “Have you missed me, love?”

“Christ, Yes. More Than I Have Words To Express. Gods Above, I Couldn't Focus For A Damn Second All Morning...” He took a deep breath as you boldly cupped his hardening cock through his pants. “And Then I Felt You, From All The Way Out Here…You Feel Like A Maegister, Like You Could Match Me. It Is So Fucking- Ahhh…”

You'd flipped the button on his fly loose, cutting him off. 

“I…Here?” His voice was low, scandalized, and rich with anticipation . “Now?”

In lieu of words, you stepped across the creek to a waist-high shelf of stone nearby, cradled on three sides by a tangle of briars, and beckoned to him. It was the perfect height. “Help me up?”

He prowled across the surface of the water like a lion, his eye fixed on the apex of your thighs. Your guardian lion, your great and wondrous beast out of legend, a Faery Prince in the shadow of his holy Mountain kingdom. 

Sweeping his sweater off impatiently, he tossed it atop the stone, then lifted you and sat you down on it so effortlessly that it made your breath catch, pulling you to the very edge of the ledge.

Notes:

Patience, my beloveds 🩷

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