Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chara woke up to the smell of burning spaghetti.

For a second they were afraid that Mettaton had left them with Papyrus after all.  That’s what Alphys had wanted, right?  Chara had pretended to be asleep when she woke Mettaton, but they’d heard the whole conversation.  Alphys didn’t want to deal with a kid in her house.  

Chara couldn’t blame her.  They’d never been the… easiest kid, anyway.

She hadn’t kicked them out, though.  They were lying on the same lumpy blue couch they and Mettaton had passed out on.  So either Papyrus had come over early, or…

“Damnation, I knew that wasn’t enough glitter.”

Mettaton was in the kitchen, burning the spaghetti himself.  Huh.

Chara tried to climb off of the couch, but their fragile soul still had trouble coordinating their bony legs.  They fell in a heap on the carpet.

“Sta—I mean, babybones?”  Mettaton’s head quickly poked out of the kitchen.  “Are you al… oh dear.”

He rushed over and scooped them up in his arms.  That would’ve been fine if his hands and apron weren’t covered in sparkly tomato sauce.

Chara tried to stick out their tongue, then remembered they no longer had one.

“I’m fine.” They tried to wriggle out of his arms. “I’m not gonna die again just from falling over.”

“Of course, darling.” He set them gently back on the couch.  “How are you feeling?”

They rolled their eyelights.  At least they could still do that.

“You know you’re not really my dad, right?”

Mettaton blinked.  Chara heard his internal fans whir, which was as close as the robot could get to blushing.

“You heard all that, didn’t you.  You always were too nosy for your own good, cousin.”

Chara smirked. It was hard to do without lips, but they never shied away from a challenge. 

“And you always exaggerate.  I don’t even have a nose.”

Mettaton laughed.  It sounded a little different than when he’d been a ghost.  Though the new sound felt foreign, it would have been weirder if it was the same.

They’d both changed since Chara had been adopted into the Blook family.  But just like the last time they’d woken from death, he was there to give Chara something to hold on to.

“If I didn’t know better, I would have assumed you were Papyrus’s child, too,” Mettaton said.  “You have his sense of humor.” 

“I’ve been around a lot longer than him.” Chara crossed their arms.  “If anything, he has my sense of humor.”

“Fair enough, little cousin.”  He stuck out his tongue.  No fair.  “So, ah.  Since you already know what Alphys said… have you considered what you want to tell the others?”

“I’m not telling them I’m Chara.”  

They’d picked a new name the first time they “died,” throwing away the name their human parents had inflicted on them.  They’d become Chara Dreemurr.  Then when they died for real, the Blook family had given them a new purpose, kept them from fading away with apathy.  They’d become Stabstablook, to the envy of their cousin Maddy.  

They hadn’t chosen a new name while traveling inside Frisk.  They hadn’t needed to since Frisk had never asked.  Maybe they would’ve been Nobody, just for the pun.  It didn’t matter now; they’d traded in that opportunity when they’d stayed behind at their grave, keeping silent vigil with Flowey until he inevitably grew bored and disappeared.

How long ago had that been?  Long enough to dream of another lifetime, of a strange goopy skeleton and a human body that wasn’t their own.  “Kris” was a name that didn’t belong to them, that would be better off without their accidental interference.

They’d lived too many lifetimes to go back.  Chara and all those other names were dead.  The skeleton that had been pulled out of their grave was… someone else.

“I’ll pick out a new name eventually,” they mumbled. “Good job keeping Alphys from asking, by the way.”

“I wasn’t lying.  We both know how important names are.”  He brushed his hands off on his apron.  (Chara noticed that it said OH YES! over a picture of Mettaton’s box form in a chef hat.  Classy.)  “I won’t tell anyone who you are, but we have to tell them something.” 

“I thought we already did.” Chara flicked glitter off of their shirt, even though the spaghetti stains made it unsalvageable.  “As far as Alphys knows, I am the biological child of you and Papyrus.”

Mettaton’s internal fans were deafening, and Chara couldn’t help flashing a toothy grin.  Alphys was the best.  They couldn’t have come up with a better (or more entertaining) excuse if they’d tried.

“There is only one tiny problem with that.” Mettaton winced.  “I haven’t, ah, actually gone out with Papyrus.  Yet, of course!  I’m sure that if I showed up at his house… with a bouquet of rose-shaped spaghetti… he would surely swoon into my arms!”

“Great.  Sounds like you’ve got it covered.” Chara flopped back on the couch, already tired from all of this talking.  It took more energy to be chatty now that they had to move a physical mouth.

Mettaton’s fists balled in frustration, but then he relaxed and stood up straighter.

“I do!  Everything will be covered in moi!”

“Especially Papyrus,” Chara said with a snicker.

That was how they found out that robots could blush.  Or maybe he was just so flustered that his ghostly abilities made it possible.

“If you were on my show, you’d be censored for a comment like that,” he hissed.

“Good thing we’re not on your show.” Chara winked.  They hadn’t realized how much they’d missed things like having a face.  Maybe Frisk would’ve laughed at Chara’s puns every once in a while if they’d had facial expressions to pair with them.

“Hmph.  Then I’ll… wash your mouth out with soap!”  He smirked smugly.  “That’s what human parents do, isn’t it?”

“...No?”  Chara hoped their voice didn’t sound too suspicious.  It was nice but strange, having a real voice again.  It echoed inside their skull and came out somewhat distorted. Was that effect what produced the “fonts” skeletons had? If so, they still didn’t know enough to identify their own.

“Anyway.” Their gaze flickered to the kitchen, which was half-hidden behind Mettaton’s head. “Your spaghetti’s burning, Dad.”

Mettaton’s eyes widened, though Chara couldn’t be sure if it was from the sarcastic title, or from him finally noticing the smoke billowing through the doorway.

“Papyrus says that adds flavor!” he insisted while running back to the kitchen, his apron trailing like a cape behind him.

Chara didn’t know if skeletons could taste.  Judging by the culinary choices they’d seen Sans and Papyrus ingest while inside Frisk, they didn’t think so.

If they could, Chara figured they were in for a worse time than having their mouth washed with soap.