Chapter Text
Your life was beyond boring.
No “irl” friends + boring job = no parties, or hangouts, or long ass calls with friends that lasts hours at a time, day wasted spent laughing at absolutely nothing but everything at the same time. The fact you lived 20 minutes away from town didn’t help, either. Your humble little 2 story cottage home was isolated at the top of a steep hill, a ways from town and quarter a mile away from an abnormally large, probably haunted creepy wooden mansion. That’s probably why the house was so cheap, a cabin surrounded by forest next to a Halloween attraction would probably scare away any other normal person. Perfect for someone like you.
Pulling into your driveway on a faithless Friday morning after a grueling night shift, you sighed. Same old routine. Wake up, eat, feed your cat, shit, go to work, go home, feed your cat, sleep. Change is one thing you wanted more than anything else in your life, but you never really made an effort to change anything at all. Change means abnormalities in your routine, and getting used to new things takes forever. Maybe someday you’ll get off your ass and stop letting yourself be miserable for no reason.
You stepped out of your car and made your way to the front door of your house, unlocking it and stepping inside. Your adorable little Turkish Angora cat Spunge greeted you at the door with a coo, rubbing his soft fur against your leg and brushing his tail against you. You smiled and reached down to pet him gently, before taking off your shoes and refilling his food and water bowl. He meowed happily and started to eat his food as you made your way upstairs to your bathroom for a much needed shower. Work was absolutely whooping your ass, and you thanked whatever spiritual being existed that you had the weekends off.
You peeled off your stinky clothes and hopped into the shower for about 20 minutes, scrubbing away the stress and sweat of today off of your body with your coffee scented soap and watching as it washed away down the drain. You stepped out (nearly killing yourself because you slipped on a mat) and started your skin and hair care routine. After you finished oiling your scalp and moisturizing your skin, you walked out of the humid bathroom and into your bedroom, fishing out an oversized t-shirt and some random boxers, along with a pink bonnet. After getting dressed, you dove into your cozy comforter and closed your eyes in order to finally catch some Z’s.
Knock knock knock!
You jolted upwards, the hard rasp of knuckles at your front door waking you up out of your sleepy daze as you let out a tiny yelp. You squinted slightly, leaning your head against the wall and listening closely to see if you could hear anybody at the front door. Honestly, you were seriously debating just ignoring it.
Of course. You could never just be comfortable and relax after a long day. The appeal of ignoring whoever was knocking on your door grew stronger as the gentle tug of sleep pulled you back down onto your pillow, and slowly shut your heavy eyes..
Knock knock knock!
Fuck. Fine, okay— you thought, groaning softly and getting up from your bed. You scrambled to find a pair of pants, not exactly wanting to answer the door wearing only boxers and a bonnet. You found a pair of fuzzy hot pink and electric blue zebra print pajama pants, debating on whether or not you should put them on (and trying to figure out when you bought them). Maybe they’d get disturbed if you answered the door dressed like a 2000’s tube of mascara and leave you alone. You chuckled quietly, tugging them up and sliding on your slippers— trekking out of your room and down the stairs to the front door.
The descent down the stairs fed your growing curiosity as you looked through the peephole of the door, wanting to see who disturbed your peace and woke you from the sleep you craved so dearly. You were caught off guard when you could only see the chest of the person— standing so tall that their head was cut from the view of the peephole.. and they looked extremely pale.
What also piqued your interest was the pretty little container they were holding. It looked like it was filled with food.
You know what? Fuck yeah, food is cool.
Preparing yourself to talk to a complete stranger, the promise of food did little to calm your nerves as you opened the door— almost flinching at the inches this man had on you. Or.. maybe not man. You had to crane your head up to look the person, or— monster in the eyes.. sockets? They were a skeleton, so they didn’t exactly have eyes. They were more like floating black holes on their face. The clash of red-orange and blue in their outfit made you feel right at home with your jarring pajama pants.
Was he wearing booty shorts? Hey, to each his own. You weren’t one to comment on other people’s sense of fashion.
“HELLO THERE, NEW NEIGHBOR!” The skeleton monster greeted you, looking down at you as they gave you a cheerful smile (could they do anything but smile? They don’t have lips—)
“MY NAME IS PAPYRUS. ME AND MY FAMILY MOVED INTO THE BEAUTIFUL HOME NEXT DOOR ABOUT ONE MONTH AGO! I WANTED TO BE COURTEOUS AND DO SOMETHING FOR THE OCCASION, AND I HEARD YOU HUMANS OFTEN DELIVER GIFTS TO NEW NEIGHBORS— SO I BROUGHT YOU SOME SPAGHETTI!” He chirped, offering you the container with gloved hands and a large close eyed smile.
You felt your face heat up slightly in embarrassment, the kind gesture unusual to you as you haven’t really gotten this kind of treatment before. He seemed so excited, and hopeful, and kind, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s actually the other way around and you were supposed to bring them something. You didn’t even know anyone moved into the house down the street! Maybe it’s because you’ve been gone all day everyday for work, or maybe you just weren’t paying enough attention.
You took the container, mouth opening and closing a couple times before you finally verbalized your thoughts.
“Thank you, Papyrus. I appreciate the gesture.” You gave him a soft smile holding the container to your side as your other hand fiddled with the chain around your neck.
“My name is [Y/N], it’s nice to meet you.” You held out your hand for him to shake, palms a little sweaty and hand a little shaky but you held strong. You didn’t even know why you were nervous, he didn’t seem harsh or judgemental at all. He seemed.. nice. Cool.
He took your hand eagerly, giving you a firm shake. Your body moved slightly with the force of his shake, the sheer strength behind his one bony arm surprising you.
“IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU TOO! I HOPE WE CAN BE GOOD FRIENDS. I BEST BE ON MY WAY NOW, IT WON’T DO ME ANY GOOD TO KEEP YOU AWAKE MUCH LONGER.” Your face suddenly felt hot again. Was it that obvious you were tired?
With an embarrassed nod, you bid the skeleton farewell— watching him as he took long strides down your driveway and down the street to his creepy wooden mansion, a smile on your face.
Eagerly, you shut the door and brought the container to your kitchen, eagerly digging around in your cupboard for a fork to try the food with— then you paused. Would it really be safe to eat food made by a stranger? Sure, he seemed nice, but you didn’t really know who he was. As your thoughts bubbled, you opened the lid of the container and froze at the enchanting aroma wafting from the glass dish.
Yeah, fuck all that— you had to try this. It was spaghetti, still steaming, with a heap of shredded Parmesan on top with two pieces of garlic bread on the side. It smelled heavily of parsley and garlic, making your stomach growl in eagerness. You could’ve cried.
Without a second to spare, you stabbed your fork into the mess of noodles and spun it around, picking up the utensil and shoving it into your mouth.
God DAMN. On some food wars shit, you were about to nut over this spaghetti. The flavor exploded in your mouth, gently encouraging you to take another bite, then another, then another— and then you were eating standing up in your kitchen like a raccoon digging through the trash. It wasn’t as good as your mother’s but damn was it close. Maybe you should’ve paused for a second to savor the food, because as quickly and suddenly as you got it, it left just as.
Now you stood in your kitchen. Full, happy, with an empty container that wasn’t yours. You stared at it, debating whether or not you wanted to lick the sauce and leftover meat out of the dish. You should probably give them the container back— it was so pretty and you’d feel guilty just taking it. Maybe you could make them something in return? Tit for tat.
Yeah, you’d return the container with food in it. Tomorrow.
Excitement bubbled in your chest.