Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Whoa-ho-ho,” you said as you approached the Halloween display just outside of the costume shop at the strip-mall, “That looks cool.”

You were shopping for a costume, though you were mostly going out to admire the decorations and play around with the masks, maybe take some pictures to send to your friends online. Some stores gave out free candy when it was close to the end of the month, too, and you were hoping to snag some of that before you went home, if not just heading to Muffet's to secure some of her Halloween-themed sale items. She wasn't far from the strip mall, maybe only a ten- or fifteen-minute walk down the street.

The display in question was a rather well-crafted graveyard scene, set up just outside the door to the costume shop, clustered up close to the wall and cordoned off with some fake police tape. The center piece was a decidedly-modern looking skeleton, almost excessively tall and wearing ripped jeans and a purple hoodie over a band t-shirt that was ripped to expose parts of its ribs and spine. It looked like it had just crawled up out of one of the graves, but was standing almost casually, completely motionless with its hands in its pockets. As you approached, the eye sockets lit up with purple lights, and the skull turned mechanically in your direction, still looking vacantly off into the distance– no doubt the work of the motion sensors. Its jaw dropped open and out from between its sharp, jagged teeth poured a plume of purple smoke, drifting up into the sky to be carried off on a stray autumn breeze.

“Oh, nice!” you laughed, coming closer to inspect it as the head faced forward again, the lights in its eyes blinking out.

There didn't seem to be a visible price tag, from what you could tell. You tugged up the sleeves of its hoodie to see if it was looped around either wrist, even checked around its feet to see if it had fallen, but with no luck. You let out a disappointed hum, thinking that it probably wasn't for sale, and when you stepped back to observe it again, the motion sensor seemed to detect you once more– the head turned slightly to the left, its sockets lit up purple, and its jaw dropped open. Another plume of smoke drifted out in a swirling cloud, and you huffed when you caught a whiff. It smelled sweet– kind of like blueberry.

“Man, this thing is cool,” you muttered dejectedly as you craned your head back to inspect it. It was much taller than you, probably something you would need help carrying back to your car. Which wasn't even here, either. You had walked to the shop, today. You probably couldn't even lift it on your own, and you didn't want to try– with your luck, you'd probably knock it over and break it.

“How much is it?” you mumbled to nobody, as if an employee would somehow hear you and materialize outside to let you know. You chuckled at yourself, rubbing at your neck as the skeleton righted itself again, head turning to face forward, eye lights flickering out, and, “I probably couldn't afford it, anyway...” you muttered.

The decoration suddenly chuckled, making you jump.

“Yeah, prob'ly not,” it said, eye sockets flickering to life abruptly, and you leapt back with a yelp as it leaned down towards you, teeth curving up in a wide skeletal grin.

“OH, jeez!!” you yelled, and the skeleton– a skeleton monster– dissolved into huffing, quiet laughter, actually stumbling backward and sliding down the wall behind them to sit among the tombstones on the sidewalk. Little puffs of residual smoke drifted up from their jaw as they hunched in on their self, laughing while you collected yourself. “You!! Oh my God,” you chuckled, reaching up to cover your grin. This was probably the first time you'd seen a monster pull a stunt like this. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Nyeh heh, yeah,” they said through their laughter, grinning up at you, “You reacted better than this lady I got earlier, though. Fuckin' jumped outta her skin and tried to hit me,” they snickered, then winked up at you, going on in a sly tone, “Sorry t'disappoint.” You huffed out a laugh as they reached up with both arms, clawed phalanges wiggling once. “Feel like helpin' me up? Since I'm so impressive?”

You scoffed, face heating slightly, but your polite nature kicked in and you grabbed their hands, pulling with all your might to help them back into a standing position. They looked absolutely delighted for a moment, but the expression melted away quickly as they chuckled, taking their hands back and tucking them away in their pockets.

“Nyeh heh heh, thanks,” they said, sharp teeth curving into a smirk.

“No problem,” you said, angling away as if to leave, “Have you been doing this all day?” Their sockets turned suddenly shifty, lights dodging from one side to the other.

“Nyeh heh, a skeleton never reveals his secrets,” he said mysteriously, and you snorted, grinning up at him.

“Is that a thing people say?” you chortled playfully, and his sockets crinkled slightly in amusement, one hand coming up out of his pocket with a blue joint in hand. You raised your brows, but didn't say anything, just glancing around to see if anybody was nearby to notice. Nobody was outside the strip mall right now, but there were some people out in the parking lot who might see him– from this distance, they'd probably just think he was smoking a cigarette, though.

Still, if an employee came out and saw him....

“S'a thing I said,” he was saying, letting out a chuckle as he lifted the joint to his teeth, “Y'know, just now.”

“You're gonna get in trouble,” you replied through a snicker. He looked amused again, shaking his skull.

“Nobody's said anything yet,” he said, pausing to glance to the side, then back at you, “Today,” he tacked on, chuckling. “Think I'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me...” and he took a very deep inhale from the joint, somehow holding the smoke inside his jaw, despite the wide gaps on the sides.

“How do you do that?” you asked through a laugh, but he was already going back to his default pose again, tucking the joint away (it was still lit??) as he returned his hands to his pockets, gaze going vacant as the lights in his sockets flickered out. He gave a mighty shrug, and then was still.

You stood there for a moment, as if he might still answer you, but then his skull tilted down and he darted a hand out of his pocket, waving you away with a shooing motion. You snickered, moving away a few steps.

“Oh, right, right,” you grinned at him, watching as he put his hand back in his pocket, skull straightening up again. You thought his teeth might have twitched, but he kept a good poker face, and you waved. “Okay, well, good luck. Happy Halloween.”

You got no response as you wandered into the store, but you were still grinning, the encounter having left you in a good mood.

He was still there when you left the costume shop (though he didn't try to prank you twice), and he was still there an hour later, when you came back by after stopping off at Muffet's. You had your costume in one bag, and a box of doughnuts in the other, cradled against your hip as you crossed the parking lot and paused next to him, chuckling. He was standing differently this time, clawed hand raised as if he were holding a skull, the classic Hamlet pose. His skull was turned upward and two steady, thin streams of smoke were filtering out from the sides of his jaw in constant, wispy lines which were stolen away immediately by the wind. You were actually a little surprised (and maybe impressed) that nobody had told him to leave yet.

“Still at it, huh?” you asked, and he didn't respond, but you hadn't really expected him to.

You laughed, opening the box and pulling out one of the doughnuts inside– a chocolate one with light purple icing and spider sprinkles– then reached up to place it in his extended hand. His teeth definitely twitched upward, but he still didn't say anything, seeming dedicated to his craft.

“Here ya go,” you said, smiling, “You earned it.”

You hesitated before leaving, glancing to the side before reaching into your bag for the receipt to your costume and ripping off a strip. You pulled a pen out of your pocket, then set the piece of paper on the doughnut box and scribbled out your name and number. Before you could chicken out, you reached out and stuck it in his pocket, patting it for good measure.

“Um, text me some time if you wanna hang out, or something,” you said, face heating slightly as your nerves started to catch up to you. You took a step back, glancing away as you started to retreat. “Have fun, alright?”

And you left quickly, not glancing back to see if he threw the note away or ate the doughnut. You weren't expecting to hear from him, and if you didn't, you'd be embarrassed if you ever saw him again, but hey– it didn't hurt to try, right? He seemed really cool, and you wanted to get to know him, if you could.

As you were reading on your laptop that night, you got a text from an unknown number, the bright screen lighting up your dimly-lit room.

Unknown
so does a friendship with you come with more free donuts?

You snickered, tacking out a response quickly.

(123)456-7890
I dunno, does a friendship with you come with free magic weed?

Unknown
lol
maybe

You laughed, and another text came only seconds later, as you were leaning back against your pillows.

Unknown
name's papyrus, by the way
was nice to scare you

Chapter Text

The cool autumn air whispered through the trees nearby as you climbed the cemetery fence, carefully lowering your bag of equipment down into the damp grass, then (with just as much care, if not more) lowering yourself. It was pitch dark out, the only light coming from the street lamps near the main building and the mausoleum, which was a good distance away from where you were, in a dark, lonely corner near some old gravestones and surrounded by trees. Even the nearby street was dark, a quiet side-street separated from the old neighborhood with an aging brick wall, coated in chipped white paint and creepers.

You crouched down next to your bag when you landed, surveying the area. The security would be near the mausoleum, most likely, or inside one of the main buildings. They did patrol at night, but you had been casing this place for weeks, had been saving your money to buy the equipment for months, and now you were finally ready...

...to catch some real evidence of the paranormal!

You rooted around in your bag when you had assessed that the coast was clear, pulling out your handheld, night vision camera and switching it on to record. You flicked the switch for night vision and then pointed it towards the mausoleum, tone grave as you began speaking.

“Alright, guys, here we are,” you addressed the camera, picking up the thread you'd started earlier before leaving your house as you pulled out the EMF detector from your bag, then shouldered it. “Ebott Grand Cemetery. This place is full of restless spirits, so we're sure to see something...” you trailed off, intending to speak again when you were a little further out among the graves. You kept filming in case you caught anything, straightening up and switching on the EMF detector, then showing it to the camera as an afterthought.

“This is our EMF detector,” you said as you walked slowly between gravestones, “It picks up on electromagnetic fields. Indoors, this can tell you if there's electromagnetic interference causing paranormal phenomena, which comes from your electronic devices, and can also come from your fuse box, anywhere electricity is really active... But out here, away from that interference, it should tell us about the presence of ghosts.”

You pulled it out of the shot, surveying the nearby gravestones with a serious gaze. Some of them were old and chipped the farther back you ventured, long forgotten by loved ones who had either passed away, or had lost the will to visit. You kept glancing over your shoulder, still within the line of sight of the mausoleum– you wouldn't feel comfortable until you were out in the darker areas of the graveyard, far from the foot patrol of the security guards.

“This should be far enough,” you murmured when you turned around one of the bends in the path, which took you behind the treeline of some undeveloped area in the cemetery. There was a smaller mausoleum here, an old marble building that had an open archway for an entrance, cremated remains lining the walls inside.

“Alright,” you said as you approached the building. You told any listening spirits your first name before continuing, “I'm here to capture evidence of paranormal phenomena on camera. If there are any spirits present who would like to communicate, could you please interact with this EMF detector in my hand, or give us some other sign of your presence?”

You waited, but were met with silence. Slowly, you wandered into the building, keeping quiet as you filmed the graves. There were two intersecting hallways in here, all leading to an exit that would take you back to the path through the graveyard. You came to the middle of the intersection, turning slowly in place to film each exit in silence, then held the EMF detector up in front of the camera. None of the lights were on, indicating there was no interference, and you were hoping someone would speak to you by lighting it up.

“I'll ask again,” you said, but you cut yourself off when you heard a distant, low rattling. You hesitated, trying to pinpoint the direction of the noise– it almost sounded like a steady growl that was rising and falling, but it was much dryer, and it echoed off of the walls around you like bones clattering gently together. “Do you hear that?” you asked the camera in a hushed voice, walking cautiously towards one of the doors. “It's like a low... almost like a growl... I hope the camera's picking this up,” you went on in a soft voice, the hair on the back of your neck standing up as you came closer towards the door, a sudden cool breeze blowing in from outside. You chuckled.

“I've got goosebumps, guys, look,” you said, quickly pulling up your sleeve and showing the camera your arm. There were indeed goosebumps rising on your skin, but whether or not they would be visible on film was another story. You gave an involuntary shiver, suddenly feeling like you were being watched as you hovered in the archway leading further into the cemetery. “Feels like there's eyes on me,” you went on quietly. The rattling was louder now, as if something were growling repeatedly at you, perhaps agitated by your presence.

“Is that you?” you asked the open expanse of graves before you. There was an open grave not too far away, and you felt an ominous energy coming from the gaping, dark maw of earth. “Look at that,” you whispered, zooming in on the open grave, “It's creeping me out... Think the growling's coming from over there...”

You drew closer, careful to step between the graves. Your scalp prickled as you drew closer, your nerves ramping up with your heartbeat, which was thudding in your ears, blood rushing fast in your veins. You paused near the dark grave, taking a steadying breath. The rattling was much louder here, now undeniably coming from the hole, or at least very close to it.

“Hello?” you asked, raising your voice slightly and holding out the EMF detector again. “Are you a spirit who wants to communicate? Can you interact with this device I've got in my hand? Just make the light turn on for me?”

The light remained off, the rattling continued. You drew closer to the edge, peering down with heightened anxiety. Your breath slightly unsteady and your heart pounding hard, you tilted the camera down, using the night vision to look into the dark pit.

Laying at the bottom was what looked like a skeleton, limbs splayed out, eye sockets seemingly sealed shut.

You screamed, stumbling back from the hole and tripping over the path, dropping your camera in the grass– the rattling stopped immediately and the white skull of the skeleton peered up over the edge as you hit the ground, twin white lights staring at you as they climbed out swiftly.

“hu– whu– what happened–” they were saying groggily, and as the adrenaline drained out of you, panic set in, because–

This wasn't a ghost, this was a monster, and–

You had just screamed loudly enough for security to hear you.

“Shit!” you hissed, snatching up your camera as you glanced back towards the main building, then back towards the skeleton monster, who was blinking their large sockets at you as they finished climbing out of the open grave. Their face looked eerie in the darkness, lit only by the dim glow coming from the lights floating in their sockets, deep gouges beneath them lit in sharp contrast.

“uh–”

“What are you doing out here?” you hissed, glancing behind you again and seeing multiple lights bobbing in the distance through the trees. “Aaah!” you let out a high-pitched, quiet yell as you scrambled to get down and then, realizing that no, just flattening yourself against the grass would not camouflage you, you panicked again, standing quickly. “Shit!” you whirled accusingly on the skeleton again, who was still watching you, expression unreadable in the dark. “You're not supposed to be here!!”

“heheheheh, what? what about you?” they asked, voice a deep, smooth baritone. You huffed, glancing behind you, then back.

“I'm! Doing an investigation!” you said, face heating as you yanked your bag off of your back and pulled it open to shove your camera and EMF detector inside. “And you!! Scared me, so! Now I'm screwed!” They chuckled.

“better hide, i guess,” they said, tone highly amused as they shrugged, and you glanced around sharply as the sound of footsteps drew closer, slapping fast across the path in your direction.

“Uh– right– yes–” you scrambled to hide behind the only raised surface nearby– the mound of dirt next to the grave. You flattened yourself against it, laying back on the earth, and you heard the skeleton shuffle behind you, probably finding a hiding place of their own.

Fuck! Was this actually stupid?? Should you have jumped in the grave instead or headed for the trees? Maybe you should just–

“Hey, there he is! Sans!” yelled one of the voices from behind the dirt pile, and you reached up to cover your mouth, eyes wide, pulse racing.

“Sans!” cried another, more out of breath than the first, “You hear that fuckin' scream?? You know what–”

“oh, yeah,” the skeleton– Sans?– said, tone almost bashful as he seemed to shuffle in place. “that was me.”

There was... a long silence.

“What?” asked a new voice, one of the other guards that had come out to check.

“yeah,” Sans said again, without a hint of humor. “stubbed my toe.”

There was a longer silence.

“O-oh,” said the second voice, tone mildly dubious. Light flared over the mound of dirt, and you attempted to sink into the earth, hair digging into the earth pile behind you. “Yeah?”

“yep,” he said. The other guards seemed to shuffle.

“Okay, well... be more careful? Next time?” came the first voice, tone wavering with what might have been amusement. Another guard seemed to snort, and Sans started chuckling.

“yeah, next time i'll just have to put my best foot forward,” he said, earning a chuckle from one of the guards. You heard one set of footsteps start to move away, accompanied by a snort.

“Fuck, I'm heading back,” the voice said, sighing, and another one laughed, “Wear something besides slippers...”

“Nearly gave me a heart attack,” one guard chortled, “You could've radioed in.”

“heh, yeah,” Sans said, “guess i forgot.”

“Snrk– alright. Shit,” the footsteps started migrating away, “You almost done out here, or what?”

“yeah, i'll head back in soon,” Sans replied, “s'almost shift change, right?”

The guards gave him an affirmative, and then they exchanged goodbyes. You distinctly heard one of them mutter an amused, “thought it was a fuckin' ghost,” as they left, and then their chatter died down into the background.

You waited a few beats, then peaked up from behind the mound abruptly. Sans was already facing you, and he made a dry sound like someone snorting.

“You work here??” was what you blurted out, reaching up to brush dirt out of your hair as you stood up. He started chuckling, pulling out a flashlight to better illuminate the area. You could see the blue of his hoodie, now, and he pulled one side open with a wink, revealing a beige, collared button-up and a name tag that you couldn't read from this distance.

“heh. yep,” he was saying, and you pursed your lips, fiddling with your hands in front of you.

“Ah. I see,” you said anxiously, and he snickered, “And you covered for me?”

“eh, you seem nice,” he said with a shrug, pointing the flashlight down, “an' i'm gonna be honest. i don't really care about catching trespassers.”

“O-oh,” you said, caught off guard slightly. “Well– thank you.” He chuckled.

“don't mention it, s'no problem. i mean, so long as you're not causin' trouble,” he said, waving the flashlight vaguely towards you, and you glanced away, rubbing at the back of your neck nervously.

“N– I'm not!” you said, looking back towards him. His sockets seemed to flatten out at the bottom, his wide grin still stuck in place. “I– was looking for... uh, ghosts....”

He started chuckling again, raising a hand to half-cover his mouth as his shoulders rose and fell with mirth, and he shook his skull.

“They're–! This place is totally haunted!” you sputtered defensively, “So–”

“look–” he interrupted, then paused to laugh a little more, reaching up to scratch at his cheekbone with one finger and closing one of his eyes. “how 'bout i get you outta here. i know a shortcut to the street.”

You frowned, glancing to the side.

“Uh– yeah, okay, I mean, if I have to? I was still kinda...” you glanced back at him and he hummed, eye lights darting to the open grave, then back to you.

“your investigation,” he said.

“Yeah, uh–” you began, and he cut you off with a raised hand and another chuckle.

“alright, look. i work another shift tomorrow,” he said, and you perked up, clasping your hands in front of you, “how 'bout i get you out of here for now, then you come back around six tomorrow an' meet me at the gate. i'll get you permission to do your investigation.”

“What– really?” you asked with a grin, “You can do that??” He seemed amused again, sockets lifting at the bottom.

“yeah, sure,” he said, “could use somebody to liven this place up, anyway.” You snorted, and he winked again, shrugging. “i certainly ain't doin' the job.”

“Ha, oh God,” you said, grinning and chuckling in spite of yourself. “Those were good.” He seemed delighted by your reaction, waving the flashlight to the side as an indication for you to follow him.

“heh, thanks,” he said as you fell in step behind him, moving to quickly catch up. “just don't tell anybody about my break time, yeah?” You grinned suddenly, snickering.

“Oh, is that what this is?” you asked playfully, “You don't want me to tell on you?”

“exactly,” he deadpanned, and you chuckled, shrugging.

“Yeah, sure, you have my word,” you said through a laugh, and then, “Why were you sleeping in a grave, anyway?” you asked, because it seemed kind of morbid, especially since he was a skeleton.

Then again... he was also already working in a graveyard, wasn't he?

Well.

“was takin' a dirt nap,” he said, prompting another chuckle from you, “sure you already heard, but the name's sans, by the way. sans the skeleton.” He held a hand out for you to shake, and you reached out, smiling as you introduced yourself in turn.

You didn't notice right away when the scenery suddenly changed, the graveyard turning into a dark street next to the crumbling brick wall you'd followed along on your way in.

You did notice when the whoopee cushion affixed to his palm went off, however, making you bark out a startled laugh.

And you could tell that the two of you were going to get along just fine.

Chapter Text

You were going to a haunted house this year.

It was something you'd never really done before, not since you were very little, at least, and that hadn't exactly been a real haunted house, but one made for children. You barely even remembered it, the only memories you have coming from old pictures your parents had taken of you standing with them outside of the attraction, then another of you crying next to some kind of clown. You'd never gone to one as a teenager, and you'd never had anyone to go with as an adult.

This year, though, you decided you were going to just go for it, with or without a group of friends. You didn't want to let another year pass you by without finally experiencing what this was like, and the Halloween season would be over in a few weeks, taking the haunted houses with it. You reassured yourself that you would be fine alone, and that it would be fun!

Standing in line, however, and getting closer and closer to the front, your courage was beginning to dwindle. The ambiance itself was starting to make you nervous, but it was the sounds of screams coming from inside that really got to you– The other groups who were going in, joking and laughing at the door, then yelling and screaming once they got inside. Your grip on reality was sometimes tenuous at best, but right now you were really starting to get a creeping feeling of unease that wouldn't go away. This was supposed to be fun– and they were all probably having fun!

Still. You were beginning to wonder if you shouldn't just get in your car and drive home. You could always just binge creepy stories instead, if you really wanted to scare yourself. The last time you'd done that, you'd had to sleep with the lights on for over a week.

When you arrived, you'd noticed that there were a lot of monsters here– haunted houses must have been popular with them for some reason, possibly because they liked to laugh at the things humans thought were scary. Every monster who had come out of Mt. Ebott a few years back looked pretty terrifying, after all, and they were definitely scarier than anything in this haunted house– all spikes and sharp teeth and glowing red eyes. You wouldn't be surprised if there were monsters working here seasonally. It was probably easy money for them.

You were waiting in line behind a group of said monsters, all clearly friends and joking around with each other, pointing out how cheesy the decorations were this year, making comments about previous visits to other haunted houses.

“GOD, humans really are obsessed with blood, aren't they?” one of them was saying in a rough voice– it was a tall fish-like monster covered in teal scales that glinted in the low light, and a nightmarish smile full of uneven, pointed teeth. They had bright red hair that was done up in a bun, and were wearing a simple, black outfit with a bright red jacket. “It gets me every year– they think it's so scary...” Their single working eye narrowed in amusement, their red slit of a pupil flickering from the yellow dinosaur beside them to the tall skeleton nearby.

“It's certainly in-interesting,” the dinosaur piped up. They were almost three feet shorter than the fish monster, by the looks of it, and they were wearing a thick, cozy-looking sweater over fitted leggings. A thick yellow tail swayed behind them as they inspected the decorations critically. “How they always use g-gore to scare people... but, I suppose if I had v-vital bodily fluids, I'd be scared too if they were all– all over the f-floor.” They cut their eyes at one of the displays in a window, full of severed heads and sharp instruments, snickering, “B-but, it's so un-unrealistic.”

“Oh, GOD,” the fish monster guffawed for some reason, “You would say that!!”

“W-well, it is!” the dinosaur chortled as the human next to the door ushered them closer. You advanced with the rest of the line as they continued to chatter ahead of you.

“AREN'T YOU TWO TIRED OF DOING THIS EVERY YEAR??” the skeleton said in a loud, raspy voice full of incredulity as the man motioned for them to stop, signaling that they were next in a few minutes. He was about as tall as the fish monster, wearing a spiky jacket and black pants that were tucked into a pair of heavy-looking boots. When he turned his skull to address them you caught sight of his face for the first time, noting his sharp teeth and the jagged scar that split right through one of his eye sockets, ending in a thin sliver somewhere about mid-way down his cheekbone. Two red orbs were floating in his eye sockets, glowing in the dark like embers. They flickered to you suddenly, catching you in the act of staring, and you lowered your gaze immediately, suddenly embarrassed.

“HA! Are you kidding??” the fish monster was shouting, reaching over to punch the skeleton on the arm– it sounded like it was hard enough to hurt, but you didn't dare look up again when they scoffed, seemingly unaffected. “It's hilarious!! You had fun last year!”

“YES, WELL,” he huffed derisively, “IT WAS STILL NEW LAST YEAR. EVERY PLACE WE HAVE GONE TO HAS BARELY CHANGED AT ALL.”

“Th-that's true.” the dinosaur said, “The first year was the b-best.”

“Well, yeah,” the fish monster scoffed, “Course it was, but it's not any less great now! I mean, lookit this guy! They're new!!” You glanced up to see that the fish monster was pointing to the human beside the door, who looked mildly confused, and since the skeleton was facing forward again, you deemed it safe to look around.

“THEY ARE NEW,” the skeleton allowed thoughtfully, turning their skull to look towards the human, who glanced away uncomfortably. “BUT THEY AREN'T A DECORATION, ARE THEY.”

The fish monster narrowed their gaze, humming, and the human suddenly pressed their finger to their earpiece, mumbling something to theirself.

“Alright, you're up,” they said abruptly, eyes glossing over the group, and you must have been standing a little too close, because their gaze flickered to you as well, and they went on to say, “Group of four?” as they opened the door.

“Four?” the fish monster asked, their tone mildly amused, and then their gaze settled on you. Their expression suddenly brightened, and they glanced behind you swiftly, assessing the situation for a moment before their grin sharpened, “What, you alone?? You tryin' to sneak into our group, or something??”

“U-uh– n–” you stammered, backing up and smiling anxiously, but they burst out laughing.

“Yeah, they can come in with us!! Right??” they shot a glance towards their companions, and so did you. The skeleton was looking impassive, and the dinosaur looked about as amused as Undyne.

“I-I don't mind!” they said, glancing up to the skeleton, “P-papyrus?”

“Um, actually...” you mumbled, barely loud enough to be heard over the music playing in the background, and the skeleton scoffed, crossing their arms.

“I DON'T CARE,” they said, “COME ALONG IF YOU WANT,” and they turned back towards the human who was still holding open the door.

“Look, the last group is finishing up,” they were saying, motioning for you all to go in, “So if you're all together–”

“Yeah! You scared, or what??” the fish monster exclaimed, gesturing for you to follow them. You hesitated a second, but the dinosaur seemed excited at the idea of having you with them, too (probably because they could tell how anxious you were). You quickly followed them inside with trepidation, steeling your nerves.

“Have fun,” the human said before closing the door behind you.

It was dark inside, covered in fake spiderwebs and spiders, with electric candles lighting the area dimly. It looked almost like an old, abandoned home, most of the doors boarded shut, the windows covered with large pieces of plywood and painted over-- broken furniture laid scattered around, and the only exit seemed to be a dark hallway across the room.

“Uh– sorry,” you were saying as they lead you along slowly, “I wasn't– I wasn't trying to–”

“HA, it's fine!” the fish monster said brightly, grinning ferociously down at you, “It'll be fun to watch you flip out!! Frisk won't go with us anymore, so it's been a while since I saw a human lose it over a plastic zombie, or whatever!!”

“Haha...” you laughed nervously, meandering along behind them. The fish monster snickered as you came upon the narrow hallway. From here you could see that it was lined with thin, wispy curtains, swaying slightly. You could kind of feel the breeze, but you couldn't see the fans. Undyne stuck out their hand as your group paused before the hall. You took it hesitantly and shook it, noting the rough texture of their scales.

“The name's Undyne, I'm the cool girl,” they said, then gestured to the other two, who had paused at the beginning of the hall, “That's my girlfriend Alphys, she's the nerdy, hacker chick. And this is Papyrus--”

“CAN YOU STOP DOING THIS.”

“He's the tough guy of the group,” she went on, ignoring him and taking her hand back. You chuckled.

“Nice to meet you,” you mumbled, then introduced yourself. Undyne grinned.

“Yeah, I know!” she said. Papyrus huffed.

“ARE WE DONE? THIS IS OUR LAST STOP, AND I HAD PLANS FOR LATER.” he said haughtily, drawing himself up slightly. Undyne's gaze narrowed as she grabbed Alphys' hand and forged ahead.

“Yeah, sure you do!!” Undyne said, laughing and walking fearlessly into the dark hallway with Alphys, who was giggling.

“I DO!!” Papyrus exclaimed defensively, then glanced at you before marching into the hall, but not before gesturing for you to follow. You did, trotting along after him and sticking close, despite the fact that he was a stranger.

When the first scare got you, Undyne and Alphys were a few paces ahead, snickering at the hanging wisps of cloth along the sides of the hall. A hand reached out as if to grab you, accompanied by a loud yell that made Undyne and Alphys whirl around excitedly, and sent you screaming and hopping to the side, clutching on to the nearest person for protection–

That person just happened to be Papyrus.

“AUGH,” he squawked, tensing in surprise, but not pulling away, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??”

“Sorry!” you squeaked, while Undyne guffawed with laughter next to Alphys, who tittered along, eyes crinkled with amusement. You quickly let go of him and he huffed out a growl, straightening his jacket and marching on without a word.

You scurried after him, telling yourself that you wouldn't do that again. You were still very tense, though, the darkness feeling almost solid, creeping around you as your group moved through the narrow hallway, and you jumped at every bang and wail, goosebumps rising on your neck. It didn't seem to matter that Undyne and Alphys were laughing and making fun of everything, didn't matter that Papyrus was remaining stoic and almost irritably unimpressed. You were getting more and more anxious, and when you rounded the corner and reached the end of the hallway, you ended up clinging to him again, gripping his hand and shrinking into his side with a yelp when a shadowed figure leapt out from behind the sheets, wailing loudly.

“OH, GO AWAY!” Papyrus yelled at them, steering you along into the next room with an irritable scoff, “AND YOU–” he tugged his arm out of your grip for the second time, “THIS PLACE IS NOT SCARY!”

“Y– I know–” you said quickly, embarrassed as Undyne and Alphys had another laugh at your expense. You were beginning to wish you had just skipped the trip out here, maybe pretended to get a call in line and bail before you even thought about doing something like this. He huffed, regarding you with an irate expression for a moment before he hurried on, ushering Alphys and Undyne forward.

“AND YOU TWO–” he began, but you tuned him out, trying to focus on keeping up with the group, throwing anxious glances over your shoulder every couple seconds. You managed to calm down as you wandered through the next room, only jumping a handful of times and managing to not grab onto Papyrus, who was still near enough to cling to. It didn't last very long, however, as you entered the next part of the house.

You screamed, lunging for Papyrus and grabbing onto his jacket, to his apparent dismay. He let out a wail of disapproval, settling a gloved hand on your shoulder.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS??” he exclaimed, and you glanced up at him. A light red blush had dusted across his features, his scowl deepening as he gestured wildly to the one who had jumpscared you– an actor in a cartoonishly grotesque clown mask who was covered in blood and wielding a chainsaw who was tied to the wall, the chain wrapped around their torso long enough to make it seem like they could get to you, but short enough that they had to stop just short of chainsaw-range. “I'M SCARIER THAN THIS HEATHEN!!”

“Not scary enough, looks like,” Undyne snickered snidely from a few steps away, a wide, shit-eating grin splitting her features. Alphys snorted next to her, attempting to muffle her laughter in her girlfriend's jacket.

“I'M SCARIER THAN EVERYTHING IN THIS PLACE!!” Papyrus yelled defensively in her direction, his blush deepening. His claws seemed to grip your shoulder reflexively, and you quickly pulled away. Papyrus hardly seemed to notice, simply removing his hand from your shoulder and clenching it into a fist at his side as he rounded on Undyne, the clown chainsawing the air menacingly behind him. “I WAS ONE OF THE MOST FEARED MONSTERS IN THE UNDERGROUND!!”

“Ain't in the underground anymore,” Undyne taunted gleefully, twirling away when he growled at her.

“Y-yeah,” Alphys chimed in, leering from Undyne's side when she stopped, though positioned so she was almost half-hidden behind her, “You don't s-scare anybody now.”

“I SCARE YOU,” Papyrus snapped, tone livid, and Undyne's grin suddenly sharpened dangerously, her smile appearing more manic. The air crackled with a sudden hostile intent, and you took a small step back. Even the clown seemed to be watching awkwardly, still swiping at the air, but more feebly, and he kept glancing around in an almost nervous fashion, as if looking for guidance.

“But you don't scare me,” Undyne said, her voice low and dangerous, dripping with an unspoken threat. You started to sweat, clearing your throat quietly.

“Um– hey–” all eyes were suddenly on you, and you held your hands in front of you in a placating manner, taking another step back. “We, uh– we should probably... keep moving?” you said, more of a tentative suggestion than anything. Undyne stared at you for a moment, and then her expression suddenly broke. She started laughing again, shaking her head and steering Alphys– who looked decidedly nervous, but was putting up a flimsy front of being amused– along through the room.

“Yeah, listen to your new datemate, Papyrus,” she sniped, and Papyrus let out a frustrated yell, stamping his foot in an almost petulant display.

“THEY ARE NOT MY DATEMATE!” he screeched, whirling on the clown, who immediately dropped their chainsaw, putting their hands up in surrender. “THEY ARE JUST SOME- RANDOM HUMAN!!” He turned on you next, glaring down at you, yet appearing flustered. You blinked owlishly up at him, your own expression probably mirroring your tension. “YOU– YOU'RE A STRANGER!!” he yelled, and you found yourself nodding quickly.

“Yep! That– that's true–” he made a frustrated noise, then grabbed you by the arm, though not particularly roughly. You yelped anyway, mostly in surprise, and he started dragging you along.

“LET'S GO!!” he shouted. You trotted along beside him as he attempted to catch up with Undyne and Alphys, throwing one quick glance over your shoulder at the clown, who was reaching up under their mask to rub at the back of their neck, looking a little lost.

He guided you through the rest of the haunted house, following closely along behind Undyne and Alphys, who continued to giggle and make fun of the different rooms. There wasn't much left, maybe five more minutes at most, and it was a little easier to ignore the scares when you were being pulled along by an angry skeleton monster who kept scowling at the actors. When the four of you burst out through the back door, Undyne let out a victorious shout, Alphys mimicking her with a more subdued cry of her own, then dissolving into giggles. It was almost surprising to see monsters being so carefree– normally they just scowled at everyone and kept to themselves. The almost-fight back in the clown room was more what you would have expected from them, but then, you hadn't spent much time around monsters by themselves, had you?

Maybe they were always like this, and humans just never saw it, too focused on how scary they appeared.

“UGH. FINALLY.” Papyrus let go of you as the two of you stepped out into the dark yard, grumbling to himself. There was a nearby human with a headset who was trying to congratulate your group as you passed, but they were largely ignored, except by you, who smiled back at them and thanked them for the experience. They said something into their headset then, as the four of you walked out towards the parking lot, probably notifying the other human at the front entrance that your group was finished.

“Ha! Man!” Undyne exclaimed, stretching as the three of them came to a stop in the parking lot. You hovered around nearby, unsure if you should just leave now or wait to say goodbye– none of them seemed concerned with your presence anymore, Alphys grinning up at Undyne, Papyrus studiously not looking in anyone's direction, but apparently sulking and staring off at the opposite end of the lot, hands on his hips. “That was great, right?? I could go for some food!”

“Y-yeah, I could eat. Papyrus?” Alphys asked, glancing up at him. He scoffed, still not looking at either of them, and she narrowed her eyes almost playfully. “W-what, too busy for us? Your plans are th-that important, huh?” Undyne snorted, and Papyrus let out a frustrated harrumph, hunching his shoulders and crossing his arms.

“WELL!” he snapped, scoffing, “YES! THEY ARE! ...BUT! I CAN... PUSH THEM BACK!!” Undyne was struggling to hold in her laughter, Alphys openly snickering next to her while Papyrus growled. “WHATEVER!! I'M HUNGRY, THAT'S ALL!”

“Haha, okay,” Undyne said, chuckling and twitching her car keys out of her pocket, tossing them into the air and catching them on one finger, then twirling them around. “Then let's go!! I wanna eat at that human place with the shitty monster food! The one that hates us!!”

“UGH, GOD,” Papyus muttered in exasperation as she took a few backward steps into the parking lot, presumably in the direction of her car. “PLEASE, NO.”

She barked out a single laugh at that, spinning on her heal to face forward– and then they were all walking away from you.

You hesitated, face burning– you should have just left as soon as the four of you got out, should have just assumed that you didn't need to say goodbye. You took a step backwards and were about to retreat when Papyrus glanced back at you, then paused and scowled.

“WELL??” he asked sharply, and you blinked at him, caught like a deer in headlights.

“U-uh–” you stammered, and he huffed, rolling his eyes almost impatiently. Undyne and Alphys had made it to Undyne's vehicle– a big pickup truck with a shiny black paint job– and were waiting next to it, Undyne leaning against the driver's side with her arms crossed, an almost gleeful expression directed at Papyrus.

“ARE YOU COMING OR NOT?” he demanded impatiently, and you froze, heart thumping. You really hadn't expected an invite.

“Um–” you glanced at Undyne, who sent you a thumbs up, then at Alphys, who was waving from the other side of the truck. “Yeah... sure,” you said, sending him a small smile, “I'll– follow you in my car?” He huffed, turning on his heel to stalk away.

“THEN LET'S GET GOING, ALREADY!” he yelled. Undyne guffawed.

“Oh my God, you're blushing, you dweeb!!” she yelled, sounding absolutely delighted, and he growled a warning, but it only made her laugh harder. You quickly trotted after him as Undyne climbed into the driver's seat, Alphys in the passenger side.

“SHUT UP!” he screeched in her general direction, and it made you grin nervously in spite of yourself as Undyne leaned down to tell you where they were headed, in case you lost them on the road.

You had a feeling this was going to be an interesting night.

Chapter Text

Lanks was washing his hands in the kitchen, his tall, spidery frame hunched over the sink in front of the window, water hot enough to burn a human rushing out of the tap as he scrubbed his hands. Papyrus had made him a few pairs of gloves, because none were long enough to fit over his elongated phalanges, but his last pair was off right now, stained from his work in the garden. The tips had worn down, had been fraying for weeks, but he hadn't wanted to bother Papyrus to fix them, and his own lanky fingers were not coordinated enough to hold a needle.

Not that he could hold a needle, even if he had the coordination to sew. Because when he had picked one up, that third night he and his brother had spent in their new home, he had seen the bright red of a human's blood, the black thread hastily sewn to close a gash too deep to be fixed with stitches and gauze alone. He had heard the wailing, the constant wailing, felt his own body seize with fear, and the needle slipped right through his shaking phalanges, his breath coming in uneven puffs as he forced himself to remain calm, clattered through the house to scramble outside, stand in the open air and just–

Exist.

Papyrus had done the sewing for him, after that.

Papyrus had made him all of his clothes, his old ones too old and worn to really be called clothing at all. They were more like rags, clinging to warped bones, a thin frame stretched to irregular proportions. His skull always brushed the ceiling back home, always brushed the roof of Grillby's, and so he had grown accustomed to slouching, hunching over at all times. Even when he was in the open caverns of the Underground, he still felt so claustrophobic, so cramped in the darkened space.

He didn't have to hunch over here, the ceilings tall enough to accommodate him, tall enough so that Papyrus, who was still a few feet shorter than Lanks himself, would not have to hunch, either. Lanks still did, though, unable to shake the habit even after nearly a year of living in a universe where everyone was free, where everything had gone right, and everyone was happy, where he could do whatever he wanted. Lanks had taken to gardening almost all the time, spending as much time outdoors as he could, but when his gloves had worn thin enough to fray open, dirt creeping in and clogging the holes, clogging the spaces between his bones–

He had to come inside and wash them. His hands were dirty, and he needed to wash them.

He'd been standing in front of the sink for over an hour.

“PAPYRUS!” Papyrus shouted as he entered their home, a boisterous greeting that was soon followed up by the skeleton himself, sashaying into the room with a flourish that was completely lost on Lanks, who did not turn to greet him. He was wearing a thick sweater and some fitted black jeans, his gloves and scarf a deep indigo. Unfazed by Lanks' silence, he went on, “AH YES, THERE YOU ARE! ARE YOU BUSY?”

Lanks was quiet for a moment, watching the water flow over his bare bones.

“Not particularly,” he said eventually, and Papyrus hummed.

“THEN– WOULD YOU LIKE TO PERHAPS ACCOMPANY ME ON A SHOPPING TRIP?” Papyrus continued, boots thumping against the tile as he crossed the kitchen and came to stand next to Lanks, pausing and seeming to watch as he continuously ran his bones under the tap.

“No,” Lanks said after a moment, “I would... rather not go...” His elongated phalanges sat under the scalding hot water, long rinsed of the soap he'd lathered them with, but still feeling unclean, as if dirt still clung to them, as if rusted viscera still coated them, running the water red, staining the basin of the sink–

Papyrus reached out and shut the water off, the sudden absence of sound making the water droplets seem so much louder as they dripped into the basin from his long, dangling fingers.

“WHY NOT?” he prompted, as if he really didn't know the reason, and Lanks lifted one wet hand absently to trace at his crooked, jagged teeth, sharpened to needle-points and criss-crossing over one another like some nightmarish maw.

“I... upset people,” is what he said, after a quiet moment had passed.

“WELL... IT IS TRUE THAT YOUR... TEETH. SITUATION. IS A WORK IN PROGRESS...” Papyrus began, and Lanks pressed his phalanges hard against them, scraping over the dry surface and leaving tiny trails of water behind. “YOU SHOULD NOT LET IT STOP YOU FROM ENJOYING LIFE HERE ON THE SURFACE.... UNDYNE HAS INCREDIBLY SHARP TEETH AS WELL, BUT SHE GETS ALONG JUST FINE!”

It wasn't really the same, and both of them knew it. Lanks continued to trace at his ruined smile until Papyrus reached up and captured his hand in his own gloved one, bringing it down to hold on top of the counter. Lanks tilted his skull down to stare at their joined hands, deep indigo fabric contrasting against the white of his bones, and he could see the outlines of faded, rusty stains, set into the bone even though he had washed his hands over and over, even though he had washed his hands every time. They were still dirty. His hands were still dirty–

Papyrus covered the top of his bare hand with his other gloved one, leaning down to enter his line of sight, a wide smile curving at his teeth, concern creasing his brow.

“PLEASE? I THINK YOU WILL HAVE FUN, AND WE WON'T BE GONE FOR VERY LONG,” he said, squeezing Lanks' hand reassuringly. Lanks stared at him for a moment, uncertain, then looked back into the basin, at the drops of water still sliding down the sides. “THERE WON'T BE THAT MANY PEOPLE THERE, EITHER,” Papyrus added, “IT IS STILL EARLY, SO MANY PEOPLE WILL BE WAITING UNTIL LATER IN THE SEASON....”

“Where are we going?” Lanks asked cautiously, and Papyrus beamed up at him, making his soul thrum gently in his bones, like a beast being roused from its slumber.

“ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME, THEN?” he asked excitedly, and Lanks huffed out a tiny sigh through his nasal cavity, the corners of his mouth quirking up as far as his teeth would allow.

“Yes, I... suppose.” Papyrus looked absolutely delighted at those words, squeezing his hand once more before pulling him along to the kitchen door.

“THEN LET US GET OUT OF HERE! ONWARD!!” he grinned over his shoulder at Lanks, whose mood was beginning to brighten up in spite of himself, “TO THE PUMPKIN PATCH!!”

“IT IS A HUMAN TRADITION,” Papyrus was explaining as they arrived at the field of pumpkins. Sure enough, there were not many humans around, only about a handful traveling together through the pumpkin patch, and already carrying a particularly large one. “FOR THE HOLIDAY KNOWN AS HALLOWEEN!”

“What's Halloween?” he asked absently, once again tracing his teeth in a slow, idle motion as he looked out over the pumpkin patch. Papyrus unbuckled his seat belt, then reached over and unbuckled Lanks' belt as well.

“YOU KNOW ALL OF THOSE OFFENSIVE DECORATIONS THE HUMANS PUT OUT AROUND THIS TIME OF YEAR?” Papyrus asked cheerfully, and Lanks glanced over at him. He didn't, but he nodded anyway. “THAT IS FOR HALLOWEEN! A HUMAN HOLIDAY WHERE HUMANS DRESS UP LIKE US AND HARASS STRANGERS FOR CANDY!”

“O-oh,” Lanks said, watching as Papyrus grinned before climbing out of his side of the car. Lanks climbed out as well, drawing his arms in close and holding his elbows as he stood to his full height. He could already tell that he and Papyrus had attracted the humans' attention– one of the small ones had started to cry. “Why?” he asked quietly, as Papyrus came around to his side of the car, then steered him off towards the far end of the pumpkin patch. He followed along pliantly, sockets directed resolutely at the earth beneath his boots, his chin sinking into the woolen scarf Papyrus had knitted for him.

“WELL, I THINK THE CANDY HAS A LOT TO DO WITH IT,” Papyrus went on, looping their arms together and leading him along through the lines of pumpkins, seeming to inspect them with a critical eye. “BUT I BELIEVE IT DEVELOPED AS A HUMAN TRADITION THAT GREW INTO A GENERAL FASCINATION WITH MONSTERS. MANY OF THEM DID NOT BELIEVE WE WERE REAL, YOU SEE, EVEN MONTHS AFTER WE HAD BEEN LIVING ON THE SURFACE. A LOT OF HUMANS BELIEVED US A HOAX, PERHAPS BECAUSE WE SEEMED TOO INCREDIBLE TO BE TRUE!”

Lanks gave a weak laugh, and Papyrus let go of him to lean down and lift a large, lumpy, and rather flat pumpkin with ease, humming thoughtfully.

“SANS WANTS THIS ONE,” he said resolutely, tucking it under his arm and balancing it against his spine.

“What for?” Lanks asked casually as Papyrus continued on. He followed behind him slowly, looking around at the field, then up at the cloudy sky. The air was nice and crisp out here, the breeze felt nice against his skull. Papyrus had given him a spare pair of overly-large mittens that had been in the glove box of his car. They were still a little small on him, but they were comfortable, soft, and he was grateful for them besides. He had promised to sew Lanks another pair of gloves later that night, but said that Lanks could wear these in the meantime.

“I'M SURE YOU HAVE SEEN SOME OF THE DECORATIONS, ALREADY,” Papyrus began. Lanks hadn't– he hadn't strayed farther than the backyard in weeks, not after the incident at the supermarket, when that woman had outright screamed, coming face to face with him when walking around the corner.

He'd heard that scream for weeks, had consequently heard their scream again as well, already haunted by it for years. They wailed, when they got sick, and they wouldn't stop, just wailing all the time, wailing every day–

“BUT WE'LL BE CARVING THEM, OF COURSE,” Papyrus chirped, and the word rang like a sharp chime in Papyrus' skull, made his soul clench in his bones, made him feel suddenly frozen in the chilly field.

“Wow, Papyrus, fuck!!” she had yelled, rushing up to him. He was kneeling in the throne room, surrounded by dead flowers, all dry and wilted from neglect, and the human was laying in front of him, barely conscious, on the brink of death. “You really carved this one up! Haha, holy shit!” She had leaned over them, appraising them, and then she went very still and quiet. A sudden, hungry glint shone in her eye when he looked up.

“They are... dying,” he said quietly, voice wavering. He didn't like what he saw behind the look in her wide, manic eye, “I tried to... but... their soul... I thought....”

“Papyrus,” Undyne said solemnly, kneeling down in front of him. He flinched and glanced up cautiously, taken aback by the pride in her expression, by the sudden grateful energy directed towards him. “You did good,” she went on emphatically, “This is... really good. I was wrong, alright? Thank you.”

Papyrus thought he should have felt good, in that moment, but it all felt wrong. She was looking at him like he'd given her the best gift she'd ever received, yet it filled him with a sudden, ugly feeling, and he couldn't meet her eye any longer.

“I need you to do something else for me,” she went on seriously, settling a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “I need your help, alright?” He couldn't look at her, a heavy weight that felt something like dread settling in his soul as he gazed down at the mangled human beneath them, struggling to even gasp tiny breaths of air. “From now on...”

Another hand settled on his opposite shoulder, and Lanks' head snapped up– Papyrus was standing before him, looking concerned, directing a strained smile up at him.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT? YOU STOPPED FOLLOWING ME...” he was saying, and Lanks' mind swam in circles for a moment before the words registered. He forced a grim nod. The concern in Papyrus' expression was starting to make him feel guilty, so he glanced down at the pumpkins instead.

“Yes,” he said, somehow out of breath, his frame tense and unyielding,“I'm fine.”

By the time they were done, Papyrus had selected an altogether excessive amount of pumpkins, in Lanks' opinion. There were almost eight pumpkins crammed into what space was available in the back seat, and three pumpkins balanced on Lanks' lap. He was hunched over uncomfortably against the small pile, holding them securely in front of him.

“Why did you... get so many?” He asked with mild distaste when they were outside of the car, him balancing about five pumpkins in a pile between his arms, Papyrus with a whopping six, two in each hand, then two more fitted between his elbows and his spine.

“I HAVE MY REASONS!” Papyrus crowed, hefting his stack of pumpkins precariously through the doorway. Lanks ducked under the door frame anxiously, following him into the kitchen with trepidation as Papyrus began laying them out along the wall next to the doorway, placing his six down, and then holding his hands out to take Lanks' pumpkins from him. “ALSO, I NEEDED ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE,” he tacked on with a smile as he took pumpkin after pumpkin from Lanks, stacking them along the wall with the others, and, “WHICH IS, INCIDENTALLY, THE LARGER PART OF MY REASONS,” he concluded with a chuckle.

“Oh,” Lanks said quietly. Papyrus left a pumpkin in his grip, taking the second-to-last pumpkin for himself, then gesturing for Lanks to follow him to the kitchen table. He did, setting his pumpkin down across from Papyrus', then watching as he crossed to the drawer by the sink, tension coiling in his bones. He was not familiar with this human tradition, but he was no fool– he had felt how tough the outside of these pumpkins were, knew that the only way to carve into them would be to use some sharp, hard instrument. He could already feel the anxiety coiling in him, and then Papyrus was turning around, holding his arm up almost triumphantly, brandishing two large, metal–

...Spoons.

Two long, sturdy spoons were in one of his hands, almost the size of a ladle each, but with flattened scoops. In his other hand were two extraordinarily large pairs of rubber gloves. He crossed the kitchen again, holding one of the spoons out to Lanks, who took it hesitantly.

“ALL OF THE KNIVES ARE–” Papyrus glanced to the side, eye sockets squinting slightly as he observed the table, brows creasing for a moment before his expression cleared and he beamed up at Lanks. “–IN THE SHOP! SO WE HAVE TO USE SPOONS.”

“I... see,” Lanks said, a sudden gratefulness blooming in his chest as Papyrus came back to the table, sliding his pumpkin closer to Lanks', then sidling up beside him. He handed him one of the pairs of rubber gloves, which Lanks swapped Papyrus' mittens out for, and then pulled the other pair on over his own.

“HERE, I HAVE EXPERIENCE WITH THIS TRADITION!” he exclaimed knowingly as he tugged at the end of the yellow glove, then holding his spoon so the scooping end was facing the top of the pumpkin. “WATCH HOW I DO THIS–” and he sunk the spoon end easily through the skin of the pumpkin.

The sound made dread curdle in Lanks' bones, and he watched with a detached sort of focus as Papyrus easily sunk the spoon in again and again, circling the stem before setting the utensil aside, then grasping the stem of the vegetable and pulling upward. It came loose easily, carved in a shape that reminded Lanks of a rounded cloud, and Papyrus set it aside on the table, dangling, stringy insides and all.

“NOW YOU–” he hesitated when he saw Lanks' blank expression, almost hyper-focused on the freed piece of pumpkin. Papyrus placed a hand on Lanks arm, drawing his gaze. “JUST LIKE ME, ALRIGHT? YOU CAN DO IT.”

He stared for a long moment, and then slowly turned to gaze down at his pumpkin, lifting his spoon the same way he had seen Papyrus do it. His vision blurred slightly, everything falling out of focus, but he sunk the spoon down into the orange flesh anyway–

He cut into pliant flesh with a grimace, the cold body before him dead, devoid of a soul, and he shook as he worked, stripping flesh from–

His teeth turned sharply down at the corners as he entered a sort of detached, fugue state, mechanically carving around the stem like Papyrus had. He reached out when he was finished, yanking the stem out of the hole with a bit more force than was necessary. He held it for a moment, and then moved his arm to the side and dropped it– it bounced against the table top and rolled, falling to the ground with a slap.

It was bone, underneath, and inside them was a skeleton, inside them was a skeleton, inside them was a–

“A-ALRIGHT!” Papyrus exclaimed, clapping his hands and quickly stooping down to collect the stem, setting it aside on the table. “WE WILL NEED THAT FOR– LATER. SEE? YOU DID IT, IT'S– FUN, RIGHT?”

Lanks didn't answer for a long moment, gazing down into the dark cavern of the pumpkin.

“It's... fine,” he said.

“HMM-HMM!” Papyrus hummed nervously, then reached for his spoon again, “THIS NEXT PART– JUST WATCH ME, AND– WE NEED TO EMPTY OUT THE– SEEDS AND SUCH. SO WE CAN PUT A CANDLE INSIDE AFTER WE CARVE IT!”

“Alright,” he said quietly, watching as Papyrus reached into the pumpkin with his spoon, using his other hand to help scoop the insides onto the cool, metal utensil, then pulling them out and placing them in a heap on the bare table top. Lanks watched the pile, grimacing, and Papyrus chuckled.

“IT IS MESSY WORK, BUT THE RESULT IS ACTUALLY VERY NICE!” he exclaimed, though his voice wavered slightly with uncertainty.

Lanks looked down at his own pumpkin for a moment, reached in with the spoon and mimicked Papyrus in movement. He pressed his long fingers into the gooey insides, attempting to scoop them onto the spoon, but he–

There was blood everywhere when Sans walked in, sucked in a breath when he saw what Papyrus was doing in the kitchen–

He wrenched his hands out of the pumpkin, spoon clattering to the floor–

“She–” Papyrus gasped out, Sans' single red eye light staring at him, both eye sockets wide and gaping as he took in the scene before him, and, “Sh-she needed– she needed my help–” Papyrus' bones rattled violently as he stumbled over an explanation–

The pumpkin rolled towards the edge, but Papyrus caught it before it could fall, setting it back up straight as Lanks stumbled backward, then whirling around as Lanks violently yanked off his gloves, and they were dirty, his hands were dirty–

“Papyrus,” Sans breathed out, soft shock in his voice, sadness in his gaze as he stared at the human laying broken, a mess of viscera and muscle, a mess of mutilated flesh, and it made the weight of Papyrus' actions crawl over his bones like hundreds of biting ants–

“PAPYRUS!” Papyrus yelled, stepping forward and grasping Lanks' face in his hands, holding him steady and forcing him to look down into his sockets. His phalanges were bare, his gloves discarded on the floor with Lanks', whose breaths were coming hard and fast, both through his open teeth and his nasal cavity. Papyrus held his face tightly, expression strained as he stared into his sockets, thumbs tracing his cheekbones, “IT'S– YOU'RE FINE. IT'S JUST– A PUMPKIN.”

Lanks' sockets widened and he took a huge step back, chest tightening, breaths shortening, sudden information clicking into place in time with his teeth clacking shut.

He knew.

He knew.

Lanks stumbled backward and hit the wall, and Papyrus approached with caution as Lanks shrunk inward, almost cowering as he slid down to sit on the stack of pumpkins and shaking, his bones rattling badly. He couldn't breath, he couldn't think, and Papyrus settled his hands on his shoulders, the gentle touch making him jump–

“IT'S ALRIGHT,” Papyrus was saying softly, sliding his hands down Lanks' arms and taking his hands. “WE DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS.”

“I'm– sorry,” he said quietly, gasping for even the tiniest breath, “I-I'm– I didn't–”

“IT'S ALRIGHT,” Papyrus said again, leaning forward and wrapping Lanks in his arms, squeezing him tightly against his sternum. It made Lanks feel small, made Lanks feel safe, made Lanks feel like–

Papyrus.

He rattled and sobbed into Papyrus' shirt, clenched his bare, stained fingers in the fabric and turned his skull to hide it against his scarf. Papyrus held him securely, shushing him and speaking soft words of comfort into the quiet kitchen.

“I'M SORRY,” Papyrus said a few hours later, approaching Lanks on the sofa with a hot mug of cocoa. Lanks was wrapped in a large blanket, sinking back into the soft cushions and staring blankly at the carpet, sockets half-lidded as if he were tired.

He didn't reply, but took the cocoa when Papyrus offered it. It smelled nice, and it was warm against his bones, almost scalding hot through the mittens Papyrus had put back on his hands.

“I THOUGHT– I THOUGHT MAYBE... IF WE...” he trailed off, seating himself next to Lanks and sitting so he was angled towards the other, knee brushing against Lanks' covered one. “I DIDN'T MEAN– I WASN'T SURE–”

“It's alright,” Lanks said quietly, bringing the cocoa up to his face so it was all he could smell, so the steam would obscure his vision.

“I DIDN'T KNOW,” Papyrus murmured, clasping his now-gloved hands in front of him, “I WASN'T– I THOUGHT, PERHAPS– BUT I WASN'T SURE... I THOUGHT YOUR AVERSION TO KNIVES AND OTHER SHARP INSTRUMENTS WAS–” he hesitated, glancing away, and then he sighed quietly. “I THOUGHT... THIS WOULD BE FUN.”

“Sorry,” Lanks murmured into his cocoa, pressing the rim of his mug directly under his nasal cavity. Papyrus made an uncomfortable noise, huffing.

“YOU DIDN'T–” he paused again, glancing away, “IT'S OKAY. YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG.”

Lanks was quiet for a moment. The only sound was the tick of the clock on the far wall.

“Do you think I'm terrible?” he eventually mumbled into the silence, gripping his mug tightly to his chin. Papyrus let out a quiet, surprised sort of caw.

“WHAT? OF COURSE NOT!” he exclaimed. Lanks stared into his mug.

“I've done... terrible things,” he went on. “I... didn't have to... but....”

“I THINK–” Papyrus sucked in a breath, his skull turning to the side. “I THINK YOU DID WHAT WAS NEEDED. I NEVER THOUGHT– EVEN WHEN I SUSPECTED SOMETHING, I NEVER IMAGINED YOU WANTED TO DO ANY OF IT, OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T....”

Lanks didn't reply, and Papyrus gripped his hands together, threading and unthreading his fingers repeatedly.

“I THINK YOU ARE VERY BRAVE,” he went on, “AND– STRONG. I CAN'T IMAGINE– I WON'T. I DON'T KNOW IF I COULD DO WHAT YOU HAD TO.”

“You could,” Lanks responded quietly, with conviction. Papyrus made an uncomfortable sound, and Lanks understood. He didn't like it, either. “You have, already. It... wasn't really you, but–”

“NO, I– I KNOW,” he said. He paused a moment, then went on a little more quietly, “I LIKE TO PRETEND THAT I DON'T.”

“I know,” Lanks said, finally taking a sip of the rich, chocolate drink. “So do I.”

Silence settled over the room again, and Lanks lowered his drink, frowning down at his hands as he leaned forward to set it on the table.

“I... don't want to go back,” he said eventually, gripping the blanket with both hands, “I know Sans has– both of them have... talked about it. The possibility of... sending us back.”

“THAT WILL NOT HAPPEN,” Papyrus said firmly, and it made Lanks feel warm again.

“I don't want to, even if I could...” he said quietly, like he were admitting a secret, and he sagged in his seat, “Does that make me a coward?”

“NO,” Papyrus said emphatically, reaching out and resting his hand on Lanks' knee, “IT DOESN'T.”

“But I was the only one... I was the one who....” He made a strangled noise in the back of his jaw, reaching up to trace his mittened phalanges over his teeth roughly, the yarn snagging against his sharp teeth. “We only needed a few more souls... and they relied on me. If I could– If it were–”

“YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN C–” he cut himself off, words seeming to stick in his teeth before he huffed out a breath through his nasal cavity, “YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN... DO WHAT YOU DID. THEY... UNDYNE IS SUCH A STRONG MONSTER. SHE WILL LEAD THEM OUT OF THE UNDERGROUND, I HAVE NO DOUBT IN MY MIND. THEY MAY MISS YOU, BUT– THEY WILL BE FINE WITHOUT YOU.”

Lanks was quiet, but he could feel magic stinging and fizzing around his sockets again. He took a sharp, rattling breath, then leaned over towards Papyrus, who immediately took the invitation and wrapped him in his arms. Lanks shivered, pulling the blanket closer around him and tucking his skull in under Papyrus' jaw, pressing his face into his scarf.

“YOU LIVE HERE, NOW,” Papyrus was saying, running one hand up and down over Lanks' spine, pressing the other against his ribs and squeezing him closer. “THEY'LL BE ALRIGHT. ALL OF THEM WILL GET OUT OF THERE. YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO BACK.”

Lanks sobbed into Papyrus' scarf, reaching up and wrapping his arms around him, clinging on almost desperately.

“YOU NEVER HAVE TO GO BACK,” Papyrus was saying quietly, rocking him slightly in a comforting, repetitive motion. “NEVER.”

They stayed like for a long time, until the light began to fade, until Papyrus eventually coaxed Lanks to stand. Lanks kept the blanket wrapped around him, one hand holding it in place, the other snaking out to take Papyrus' as he was guided into the kitchen, where a jack-o-lantern was flickering on the table.

“I ONLY ENDED UP CARVING ONE,” he said, “AND I WASN'T SURE WHAT TO MAKE IT... BUT I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT LIKE THIS ONE.”

It was a crescent moon on a star-speckled sky, the candle wavering inside and making the stars appear to twinkle. Lanks approached it slowly, not removing his hand from Papyrus'. He hummed.

“You were right,” he said quietly, turning to smile at Papyrus, who was beaming right back. “The result is... very nice.”

Chapter Text

A brittle wind blew through the fall festival as the sun crept closer towards the horizon, evening sweeping through Ebott and casting the world in an orange light. You were sitting at your face painting booth, sprawled out on a stool and leaning against your folding table, where you had an open binder of face paint designs set up, as well as your paints, a box of hand mirrors, a little box of painted rocks to sell, and a big bowl of free candy that was pretty picked-over and almost empty, now that the day was coming to a close. It was all monster candy now, the bowl of human candy having long been emptied out and cleared away.

Most people were packing up, but you weren't quite ready to call it, yet-- there were still stragglers wandering by, picking over what was left after the main crowds had blown through, and while you were doubting any of them would stop by your booth, you were kind of hoping that a certain pair of skeletons might come by. You'd invited them to come out yesterday, letting them know about your booth and the festival at large-- you'd also promised to paint their faces for free, if they did drop by. Maybe they were too busy, though. You hadn't seen them yet.

You let your gaze wander to the sky, half obscured by the canopy you'd set up over your booth, and began watching the clouds as they crept by. Halloween was only a few weeks away, now, and then winter would be right around the corner. You could already almost feel it in the breeze, smell it on the crisp air, and it made you shiver slightly, hunching into your hoodie.

“OH! THERE THEY ARE!” came an exclamation from your right, and you perked up immediately-- you'd recognize that voice, anywhere. You turned to look, and sure enough, Sans the skeleton was pointing in your direction, wearing a very large, comfy-looking sweater and a beanie, his brother Papyrus not far behind, a relaxed grin on his features, a white hoodie with red sleeves and a red hood decorating his frame. Across the front, it read “SPAGHETT' ABOUT IT” in large, red letters. “HUMAN!” Sans was shouting as you stood up from your stool with a grin, then rushing over, Papyrus ambling along behind. “WE MADE IT!”

“Hey!” you chirped as they drew near, coming around to stand on the inside of your booth. “You guys are just in time for the festival to end,” you went on with a laugh, “Where you been?”

“WELL, I WAS BUSY WITH WORK!” Sans exclaimed, adjusting his cyan bandanna with his matching, fingerless gloves, “I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE BEANPOLE HERE WAS UP TO!”

“Nyeh heh, ouch,” Papyrus said as he ambled up to the both of you, winking, “I was workin' on somethin', promise.” Sans chuckled, and Papyrus walked past you to claim your stool. You turned to lean back against the table so you could see the both of them, grinning.

“WELL, CONSIDERING HE WORKS AT THE PACE OF A SNAIL,” Sans began playfully, sockets flattening at the bottom, star-shaped eye lights glancing towards his brother, “IT'S NO WONDER HE COULDN'T COME BY SOONER.”

“Oh, even I felt that one,” you said with a chuckle, and Papyrus snickered next to you.

“Well, anyway, I seem to remember,” he mumbled, turning to pick through the box of painted rocks with one hand, his other snaking into the candy bowl to steal a few pieces and pocket them nonchalantly, “that we were promised a free face paintin' if we made it out here.”

“Yeah, that's still on the table!” you exclaimed brightly, turning to beam at Sans as well, who blushed lightly, chortling. Papyrus snickered, leaning back to lounge against the table.

“So's the paint,” he said, earning a light laugh from you.

“Who wants to go first?” you asked, glancing between the two of them. Papyrus hummed, eyes drifting back to the box of rocks.

“Sans can go first,” he said, “If he wants to.” You glanced at Sans, who was beaming.

“YES, I'D LOVE TO!” he said, then moved around you to hop onto the stool while you quickly moved to fetch your paints. “AFTER ALL, WHAT BETTER PLACE TO START THAN THE MAGNIFICENT VISAGE OF SANS, THE MIGHTY SKELETON??”

Papyrus suddenly leaned over the table, frame visibly shaking as he attempted not to laugh. One hand was gripped into a fist as he bowed his head, tiny puffs of air escaping through his nasal cavity. You grinned, laying out your paints and snatching up the art book from behind Sans, dipping into his space and missing his face flaring up again as he turned away, huffing gently.

“You're totally right,” you said jokingly, chortling as you flipped open the book, “Here, you can look through, and--”

“N-NOT NECESSARY!” he exclaimed, drawing your attention back to him. He seemed to collect himself as he adjusted his bandanna, turning to grin at you. “WHY DON'T YOU JUST-- SURPRISE ME! I ALWAYS LIKE SURPRISES.”

“Ooh, yeah?” you asked brightly, glancing back down at the book thoughtfully with a hum. You set it aside, then inspected his skull critically, leaning in and putting one hand to your chin. He leaned back a tiny bit, a little bead of sweat budding at his brow under your scrutiny, his face lighting up blue, and it made you feel a little giddy. You smiled, glancing to the side shyly, then leaned back again. “I think I got an idea.” Papyrus huffed.

“Y'think you have an idea,” he corrected you, sending over a grin. You snorted.

“Yeah, I got one, too,” you replied. Sans snickered next to you, and you lifted your orange face paint, piling a healthy amount onto your palette, then picking up the brush to lean in again, trying to ignore how flustered Sans clearly was.

“So, what's the word, by the way,” you began, starting to paint the outline of a pumpkin over his face. “Can I paint over your teeth?”

“I DON'T SEE WHY NOT,” Sans was saying, eye lights resolutely not looking at you. “IT'S NOT LIKE WE CAN GET SICK FROM EATING A LITTLE PAINT.”

“I dunno, Undyne got pretty sick of it after she ate it for a week,” Papyrus quipped, then turned around to mime drum sticks while Sans tried not to look like he thought the joke was funny. “Ba-dum-tss.” You laughed, and Sans huffed out a sigh.

“I SAID A LITTLE PAINT,” he said as you began filling in orange around his sockets, prompting him to close them. You smiled, moving to then carefully outline his teeth. “SHE HAD AN EXCESSIVE AMOUNT.”

“Wait, she really ate it for a week?” you asked incredulously, grinning at Papyrus with raised brows. “Isn't she supposed to be smart??”

“Just 'cause she's a scientist doesn't mean she's not a huge dumbass sometimes,” Papyrus said, snickering.

“Oof!” you said, chortling and turning your attention back to Sans, beginning to fill in all of the white spaces on his skull with orange. “Did you say that to her?”

“Nyeh heh yeah,” he said through a laugh, shoulders shaking as he leaned back against the table, eye sockets crinkling in amusement. You barked out a short laugh, finishing up the orange part by painting two teeth on either side of his wide grin orange, one on the top, the other on the bottom to look like the classic jack-o'-lantern smile. “She wanted t'see what would happen. Figured it wouldn't kill her, since it's organic, or whatever, but she was pukin' for a couple days.”

“Oh-ho no,” you said through a chuckle, and Sans' head twitched, like he wanted to shake it, but remembered you were still painting him. You switching to a darker orange and started painting in the details of the pumpkin.

“DON'T FEEL TOO BAD FOR HER,” Sans said, closed sockets twitching, “SHE WAS WARNED MULTIPLE TIMES THAT HER MONSTER BODY WOULD NOT ONLY REJECT THE ORGANIC MATTER, BUT WOULD ALSO REACT BADLY TO THE COMPOUNDS WITHIN. SHE LITERALLY JUST WANTED TO SEE HOW LONG SHE COULD GET AWAY WITH IT,” he huffed again while you snickered, pooling some green and black paint out on the palette, “ALPHYS WAS FURIOUS.”

“I can imagine,” you said with a wry smile. You'd only met Alphys once so far, but she was certainly an intense monster. You cleaned your brush, then moved on to black paint, painted his teeth in with the black, careful not to smudge the orange edges. Then, you finished up by reaching up to nudge his beanie back and paint the stem on his forehead. “Alright, you're done!” you said brightly, and Sans perked up, opening his sockets.

“AM I?” he glanced around, as if for a mirror, “WHAT IS IT? I WANT TO SEE!”

“Lookin gourd,” Papyrus said, and you winced, snickering helplessly as you moved to fetch a small mirror from the bin next to your paints.

“Papyrus, no,” you chuckled, handing over the mirror to Sans, who looked pleasantly confused and took the mirror quickly.

“Yeah, that one sucked,” Papyrus said with a grin, glancing to the side, and Sans let out a pleased exclamation.

“OH! IT'S GREAT!” He inspected it from a few angles, beaming. “I LOOK LIKE A JACK-O'-LANTERN!”

“Yup! Thought it would look cute,” you said nonchalantly, quickly moving to adjust your paints and wipe down what was left on your palette while you pretended not to notice how flustered he suddenly was, reaching up as if to put a hand to his face, then lowering it and fidgeting in place. He hopped down from the stool, chuckling nervously.

“YES! WELL, IT DOES! THANK YOU VERY MUCH!” he said, setting the mirror down and seizing his brother, then shoving him towards the stool. Papyrus snickered, seating himself. “NOW IT'S PAPYRUS' TURN.”

“Yeah, paint me like your french fries, or whatever,” he said, and you snorted, almost dropping your paints as you let out a surprised laugh.

“P-Papyrus--” you said through your mirth, “that's not-- how you say that--”

“I know how to say that, human,” he said with faux-exasperation, huffing, and you shook your head, snickering as you turned to face him.

“Shut up,” you chortled, gaze flickering to Sans, who was admiring the rocks and still looking a little fidgety. “You need the book, or do you like surprises, too?”

“I said french fries, didn't I?” he asked, winking, and you reached out to shove him lightly, grinning brightly.

“No! That's not Halloween!” you protested, “I don't even know how I'd do that!” He scoffed, but then hummed, pretending to think for a moment and stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

“Alright, I got it,” he said, smiling at you, “Surprise me.” You chuckled, putting your weight on one leg and placing a hand on your chin as you inspected him, humming thoughtfully.

“Alright,” you said slowly, wagging one finger in the air like you'd seen other artists do when they had an idea, “I think I've got it. Your essence.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, watching as you turned and began mixing some light green paint with yellow and white on the palette.

“IF YOU AREN'T ABOUT TO PAINT A HUGE MACARONI ON HIS FACE, I DON'T THINK YOU'VE GOT THE RIGHT ESSENCE,” Sans quipped, seeming to have recovered finally, and you laughed, shaking your head as Papyrus shot him a dry look, still smiling.

“Can't believe this,” he said as you held your brush up expectantly. He turned back to face you, closing his sockets. “My own brother, forgettin' about my love of cheese.”

“MACARONI AND CHEESE, THEN,” Sans said, while you outlined a large, upside-down tear drop shape on Papyrus' skull. “I'M SO SORRY I FORGOT THAT THAT IS ALL YOU KNOW HOW TO COOK.” Papyrus' shoulders were shaking. He cracked one socket open, smirking at you.

“This comin' from the guy who wouldn't eat in t'save his life,” he muttered, and Sans scoffed loudly, putting his hands on his hips.

“IF WE WERE MEANT TO COOK FOR OURSELVES, WE WOULDN'T HAVE GRILLBY, NOW WOULD WE??” he shot back primly, and Papyrus laughed, sending you a long-suffering look before he closed his sockets again.

“If it makes either of you feel any better, I can only cook eggs,” you said jokingly, filling in all of the white parts inside the outline with yellow-green paint.

“NONSENSE, I'VE SEEN YOU COOK RAMEN,” Sans said, making you snicker some more before he went on, suddenly brightening up, “GRILLBY'S FOOD STAND IS IN THE PARK TONIGHT! WE SHOULD ALL GO THERE TO WATCH THE FIREWORKS!”

“Oh yeah, those'll be starting soon, right?” you asked, perking up a little as you cleaned the brush, then switched to black paint, humming, “I need to clean up shop before I can leave.”

“WE'LL HELP!” Sans exclaimed, and you glanced over to send a quick smile his way, then looked back at Papyrus.

“Yeah?” you asked, carefully painting two large, alien eyes over Papyrus' closed sockets. “Both of you?” Papyrus huffed out a quiet laugh, grinning a little wider.

“Yeah, for sure,” he said in a monotone, “'Course I'll help.” Sans scoffed.

“WELL, I'LL HELP, AT LEAST,” he said pridefully. You grinned as you finished up the eyes, dabbing a little white on your palette and cleaning your brush to add in some highlights.

“Thank you, Sans,” you said, voice lilting up slightly as you finished up Papyrus' face paint. He huffed out a laugh through his nasal cavity as you pulled away, setting your paints aside.

“IT'S! NO PROBLEM!” Sans was exclaiming, as Papyrus opened his sockets, and you snatched up another mirror from the box.

“You're all set!” you said brightly, handing the mirror over, and he took it, inspecting his reflection with an amused huff.

“Sorry,” he said, drawing himself up primly, “My essence is a gray alien... but you were close.” You laughed lightly as he handed the mirror back with a grin.

“So sorry,” you replied sarcastically, sighing as you set the mirror back down.

“It looks nice,” he said with a chuckle, and Sans hummed.

“IT LOOKS FANTASTIC!” he said, as if correcting his brother, then his eye lights seemed to shine a little brighter. “OH! YOU SHOULD LET US PAINT YOUR FACE, NOW!” You blinked, grinning.

“Hehe, what?” you asked, “You wanna do that?” He nodded, and Papyrus stood up from the stool.

“SO WE CAN TAKE A PICTURE!” he chirped, reaching into his pocket and tugging out a digital camera from seemingly nowhere, as if that were a normal thing to be able to do. You supposed it was, though, since every monster kept overly-large items just hanging around on their person, as if they had a secret, pocket dimension with them at all times. For all you knew, they probably did. “PAPYRUS?” he asked, and Papyrus raised his brows at him, moving around him to inspect the box of rocks again.

“M'not really the artsy type,” he said, grinning mischievously as he plucked a pumpkin rock from the pile. Sans huffed.

“WELL, I-- I'M NOT REALLY AN ARTIST, EITHER,” he said, glancing anywhere but at you, and you laughed.

“It's alright,” you said, beginning to clean the palette again with one of the spare rags, “I don't need my face painted--”

“NO, BUT! WE SHOULD ALL MATCH!” he insisted. You thought you could see the ends of a cyan blush near the orange edges of his face paint. “WE CAN SHOW OFF TO GRILLBY, AND-- TAKE A PICTURE TOGETHER!” You smiled, a vague warmth blooming in your chest, and you hummed.

“Well, I can-- paint my own face,” you began, but Sans huffed, reaching for the paintbrush.

“NO, I-- I'LL DO IT,” he said, holding the paintbrush aloft and huffing. “SINCE MY NO GOOD BROTHER CAN'T BE BOTHERED!” You perked up a little in spite of yourself, giggling and sitting down on the stool while Papyrus scoffed.

“I write, Sans, I don't paint,” he said with a haughty air, rummaging around in the candy dish again.

“HE'S ONLY LIKE THIS BECAUSE I MADE HIM START OUT WITH FINGER PAINTS,” Sans confided with a huff, reaching out for your paints, like he already knew what he was going to do. “THEY WERE TOO HARD, HE SAID, YET HE WOULD SIT AROUND READING THE THESAURUS FOR FUN--”

“Words are fun,” Papyrus interrupted defensively with a sharp glance in Sans' direction, and you snorted as Sans prepared the palette, putting a few dabs of black paint in a small puddle, then reaching for a tube of white.

“Learning is fundamental, Sans,” you drawled, and he sighed, rolling his eye lights fondly, the corners of his grin quirking up.

“YES, BUT SO IS ART,” he said, glancing swiftly at you, and then away. “HERE, CLOSE YOUR EYES, AND I WILL GET STARTED.”

You did, and he began painting an outline around your face, like he had seen and felt you do. He seemed a little shaky, but was careful as he painted around your eyes. Papyrus snickered next to you.

“Oh my God, Sans, really?” he said, and Sans shushed him, covering the rest of your face with paint carefully.

“What?” you asked through a chuckle, as Sans wet the paintbrush with more paint, then set to work again, “What is it?”

“DON'T TELL THEM!” Sans snapped before Papyrus could speak, and he huffed out a breath through his nasal cavity. You heard him steal some more candy.

He was rather quiet while he worked, and you couldn't think of much to say, so you stayed quiet too, keeping your eyes shut as he painted some details here and there, cursing quietly when he made a mistake. It made you grin fondly, amused by the amount of work he was putting in.

“S'lookin good,” Papyrus commented when Sans paused to clean the brush, “but I guess it's hard to mess up your own--”

“SHUSH!!” Sans snapped, then painted something on your nose with a few careful strokes, moving on to paint around your eyes. “I NEED CONCENTRATION!”

“Nyeh heh, okay, whatever,” Papyrus replied with a chuckle, rifling around through the rocks.

“You guys can just take some of those, you know,” you said, “I have way too many, anyway.”

“Score,” Papyrus said, and you immediately heard rocks clinking together. You imagined him taking out handfuls and pocketing them, and it made you snort as Sans pulled back a final time.

“Not all of them!” you exclaimed, and Papyrus snickered in response. A few rocks fell back into the box.

“WELL, I'M FINISHED,” Sans said, and you opened your eyes, smiling. He was grinning at you, looking mildly proud of himself as he held up a mirror, and your gaze flickered down. You let out a pleased gasp, then a giggle.

He had painted a skull over your features, taking care to add in shading and little details, especially with the teeth around your lips. You took the mirror from him, admiring his work, and he seemed to shuffle in place almost nervously.

“It looks so cool!” you said, beaming up at him. He chuckled, flustered, and, “Now I get what you meant. We match,” you said through a laugh. Papyrus huffed out a violent, coughing laugh behind you, and Sans shot him a look, fiddling with his bandanna, his grin widening.

“HEHEHEH, YES!” he said, looking delighted, if not flustered. “NOW WE SHOULD TAKE THE PICTURE! SO WE CAN GET EVERYTHING CLEANED UP BEFORE THE FIREWORKS!”

“Yeah, alright,” you said, chuckling and standing up. Sans hopped over to you brightly, and Papyrus joined you by your other side. You were about to ask who should hold the camera when it was suddenly surrounded by blue magic, levitating into the air in front of the three of you. “Oh!” you exclaimed, as Sans reached out, clicking a button and then stepping back.

“ALRIGHT!” he said, sidling up to you, “ON THREE!”

You chuckled, reaching out and putting your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. You flung an arm around Papyrus as well, tugging him down to your level, and he huffed out a chuckle, stepping closer.

“S-SAY CHEESE! OR SOMETHING!” Sans exclaimed nervously, and you beamed at the camera, looping your arm around his neck.

“Cheese, or something!” both you and Papyrus exclaimed together, making you laugh as the camera flashed.

Chapter Text

You let out a gusty sigh, leaning against the hay that was cushioning your back, the vibrations of the tractor almost lulling you to sleep. Sitting next to you on one side was Papyrus, hunched over and looking comically cramped in the cart behind the large tractor, which was pulling the three of you along to the apple orchard. He was wearing a large, knitted sweater with a matching scarf and mittens– you had been learning to knit for a while, and you had spent a lot of time practicing by knitting both of the brothers accessories and pieces of clothing. Sans was also wearing the sweater you'd made him. It had been a bit of a challenge for you, making a sweater big enough to fit over his broad frame, and it had taken you a long time to finish both of them, but you'd finally managed it and given them as Gyftmas presents last year.

He also had on the beanie he had requested, pulled down over the large gash over his left socket, a gaping hole into the deep black of his skull. He said it felt more secure, wearing something over it. Said he was less worried about things falling in– especially any stray, dead leaves.

He was perched next to you, sprawled out and lazing back against the hay in the same fashion you were, eye sockets listing as he gazed up at the cloudy sky, his single red eye dimming slightly as he seemed to drift closer towards sleep. He looked like he might actually fall asleep, and while this was highly relaxing, you had no doubt that by the time he actually managed to drift off, the three of you will have arrived already, and so you leaned over with a grin, nudging into his side playfully as the cart bumped along over the dirt road.

“mmn?” he made a sleepy sound, barely audible over the loud roar of the tractor, his single, large eye light dilating slightly and flickering towards you. His grin widened a little, the corners lifting as he tilted his skull in your direction.

You chuckled, the sound lost on the breeze, drowned out by the rumble of the tractor's engine, and you tilted your head forward in lieu of speaking, towards the apple orchard that was growing ever-closer. He said something quietly, voice a gentle rumble that was swallowed up by all the noise. His red eye flickered towards the field of trees, and then he settled back into the hay, stubbornly closing his sockets again. It made you snort, and you glanced up at Papyrus, as if for some backup, but paused.

He was watching the orchard, expression a little distant as he ran his mittened hand over his teeth repeatedly. He had been to many dentist visits in the last year, his teeth having been filed down and shaped, now flattened and blunt, as they were supposed to be. They were still very crooked, despite his braces, in a way that many humans still found unsettling.

They found he and his brother unsettling for a slew of other reasons too, but that went for most monsters in general, and Papyrus was always the most self-conscious about his teeth. Perhaps because, as he had confided to you one night after Sans had fallen asleep, they hadn't always been like that.

“Sharp and dangerous, in need of repair,” he had murmured all those nights ago, gloved phalanges slowly tracing over his still-sharpened teeth. The light from the kitchen made the windows seem pitch black, dark portals into an endless void, and the kitchen was reflected in them like a mirror image, the two of you facing one another at the kitchen table, each nursing a mug of warm cocoa. “I didn't used to be like this...”

You'd held his hand, then, and you reached out now to grasp his mittened phalanges, smiling up at him when he glanced in your direction, expression softening slightly. Even hunched over like this, he was still so much taller than you, bones warped and distorted from their old form.

He didn't bother saying anything, knowing his voice would be overpowered by the tractor, but bent down to bump his skull against the crown of your head, making you giggle.

There were baskets laid out for people to use, and the three of you took one after you had climbed down out of the cart, Papyrus stepping down with ease, Sans carried under his arm like an overly-large sack of potatoes, then set on his feet carefully. You weren't sure if he was really awake, but then Sans had cracked open his working socket, chuckling, and took your outstretched hand as you led both of them over to retrieve your baskets.

“heh. wow,” Sans was saying as the three of you entered the orchard, wandering down one of the lines of trees. “how are you supposed to do this?” he asked, glancing down at you with a mischievous expression. You cut your eyes at him, chuckling.

“What do you mean?” you asked suspiciously.

“well, s'just...” he trailed off, raising his hand to scratch idly at his cheekbone with one finger, one of his sockets slipping shut. “with your, you know... situation.” You narrowed your eyes playfully up at him.

“What situation, Sans??” you asked, as if daring him to continue.

He was quiet for a moment, glancing away like he was in deep concentration. Then, his gaze flickering back to you, he tugged his hand out of yours to bring it down on top of your head, humming thoughtfully.

“I'm average height, Sans!” you yelled, batting it away with a laugh as you danced away from him towards Papyrus, who glanced down with a grin. “You're not that much taller than me!” It's true he was taller than you, but only by a little more than a foot– Papyrus was the giant here, measuring in around nine feet. He could reach the tops of the trees with ease, as he was displaying right now, reaching up with one long, lanky arm to pluck an apple from one of the topmost branches.

“i dunno,” Sans chuckled, coming over to stand next to you and looking up into the tree. He reached up and plucked one of the apples, inspecting it before dropping it in his basket. “y'can sit on my shoulders if you want.” You snorted.

“Please, if I'm sitting on anybody's shoulders, it'll be Papyrus',” you said with a chuckle, jabbing a thumb towards the taller skeleton, “He's so tall, I could probably see the whole orchard!” Sans' expression crinkled with amusement, and he glanced up at his brother, who huffed out a laugh.

“Then you would be faced with the opposite problem,” Papyrus said quietly in a rather knowing tone, as he plucked a few more apples from the branches. “You would be too tall to reach the apples.”

“I can reach the apples!!” you squawked with amused indignation, reaching up to do just that with ease, then putting the apple in your basket and glancing between the brothers. Papyrus looked amused, but Sans sighed next to you.

“so sad,” he said, earning a playful glare from you, “denial is so sad.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, following Papyrus to another tree, “Focus on picking apples, Sans. We need lots of apples. That is your sole purpose, today, so I can make like... cider and stuff.”

“Yes, exactly!” Papyrus crowed, then he seemed to hesitate, shifting uncomfortably. When he spoke again, he had lowered his voice. “I... thought it would be nice to get some apples for Toriel, too. Since she started... baking, again.” you smiled up at him, leaning against his side and drawing his gaze to you. His expression seemed to melt, and he smiled, reaching down to tentatively offer his hand. You took it immediately, and he exhaled through his nasal cavity.

“She'll be happy,” you said, glancing over towards Sans. His expression had turned decidedly soft as he inspected an apple he had plucked down from the tree nearby. He hummed.

“never got to try her baking,” he mumbled, grin seeming to falter for a second before he put the apple in his basked, gaze downcast. You let your basket slip to your elbow, then reached backward to him, too, offering him your hand. He took it with a huff, smile quirking up further when he glanced at you.

“she slipped something under the door, once,” he said quietly, huffing out a chuckle and squeezing your hand. Papyrus was using his free hand to collect more apples, the basket hanging from his wrist so he could hold on to you. “a recipe for pie. said she didn't wanna... say it out loud, in case anybody overheard. recipe thieves, y'know. big problem in snowdin,” he suddenly giggled, glancing to the side, then back at you. “said t'keep it secret, hide it somewhere nobody else'd see it...”

“And so he put it on the refrigerator!” Papyrus said. Sans giggled again, and you chuckled.

“you didn't even know what it was,” Sans said, closing one socket. His brother huffed, putting an apple in his basket and then placing his hand on his hip, turning to fix Sans with a stern expression.

“Yes, I did. It was clearly a sheet of paper with writing on it,” Papyrus said. You snickered, and he grinned down at you. He chuckled quietly, like he wasn't quite used to it. “I, however, was a–” his expression seemed to crack, and he glanced away. His voice was... different, when he continued. “Chef...” he trailed off uncomfortably, turning his skull away and tugging you along through the trees. Your brows creased with concern. “Not... a baker.”

The words sounded forced, like he were pushing the air through his teeth. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, but he didn't look down at you, simply wandering along. When you looked back at Sans, he seemed mildly disturbed, a tired sort of sadness pulling at his sockets. You gripped his hand a little tighter too, and he chuckled, his gaze seeming to clear as it found yours. He lifted his free hand, basket falling to hook around his elbow, and scratched at his cheekbone, glancing to the side.

“was a long time ago now, anyway,” he rumbled quietly, shuffling along at the rear of your group, the three of you linked together like a daisy chain. “before the... core.” Before the core shut down. You sent him an encouraging look, and he chuckled, eye light dancing to the side. “point is, i still got it... if tori's baking again, i figure maybe... dunno. maybe she could use a refresher. maybe we can go over there later n'... drop off these apples an'... bake, for a while.”

“That sounds like fun,” you said with a smile, as Papyrus began to slow down, “I think she'd really like that.”

“yeah?” he said, huffing out a quiet laugh through his nasal cavity.

“I'd like that, too,” you went on. Papyrus hummed, and you glanced up at him, noting the slight strain behind his smile. “What do you think?”

“I think... perhaps...” he glanced away nervously, slowing to a stop and plucking an apple out of the nearby tree with one mittened hand. “I may... take a rain check....”

“aw, papyrus,” Sans said, “you can just hang out. taste the pies when they're done.”

“Yeah!” you said, tugging him a little closer and leaning against his side again. “We won't be baking the whole time! I'll come out and sit with you when I get bored.” His sockets creased as he gazed down at you, and he looked away, humming fondly.

“n' i'll come out an' sleep when i get bored,” Sans said mischievously. You glanced back, chuckling.

“We can't just show up to Toriel's house with a shit ton of apples and then make her bake a bunch of pies for us,” you said through a laugh. Sans huffed a breath of air through his nasal cavity, shoulders shaking with amusement.

“i mean, we prolly could,” he said, sockets flattening at the bottom as he glanced to the side. Papyrus scoffed.

“I would never!” he said, raising his voice slightly. Sans chuckled.

“heh, nah, i think she'd like it, though,” he said, “she– used to say the– uh...” he exhaled sharply through his nasal cavity, “she just likes... havin' company...” he trailed off. He took his hand back finally and winked at you, then turned to start collecting apples again. “likes noise in the house... told me she always keeps the tv on.”

“Well... still...” Papyrus had lowered his voice again, reaching up to slowly select an apple from the top of the tree. “Maybe I could... help out....”

“I'll help, too!” you said brightly, beaming up at him. He chuckled, a light blue dusting his cheekbones when he looked at you again.

“yeah, i'll help too,” Sans chimed in, voice wavering with amusement. Papyrus scoffed at him, flush fading as he scowled at his brother.

“Yes, I'm sure you'll help eat everything,” he chided playfully, and you snickered, leaning away from him. He took his hand back gently, chuckling. “But, I... suppose that's what pie is for....” Sans snickered, expression scrunching up fondly.

“oh yeah?” he asked through a chuckle, “you sure? i heard pies were for throwin'. guess i should–”

“Sans,” Papyrus warned, voice raising just slightly in a scolding tone, and you giggled, shoulders shaking slightly. Rather than seeming chastened, Sans looked delighted, chuckling along with you as the three of you began meandering along, still alone among the apple trees.

“hey, come on, paps, i'm sensing some negative peelings here,” he said with a wink, and you snorted, caught off guard in spite of yourself. Papyrus' teeth twitched, but he huffed, automatically taking on the role of the straight man.

“Sans!” he barked, almost sounding irritable, and Sans looked even more excited, chuckling and turning to pluck an apple off the tree next to him.

“come on... we can get to the bottom of this,” he said diplomatically, holding the apple between two phalanges, dangling it by the stem, “where could those feelings be stemming from?”

“Atrocious,” Papyrus said with distaste, scoffing through a grin, and Sans snickered, but fell quiet. The air had taken on a more comfortable tone, as the three of you wandered along slowly, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees around you.

“This is nice,” you said into the open air, picking a large, very red apple from a tree as you passed and inspecting it for a moment, humming. “Hey... can you guys guess what I'm thinking?” you asked with a hint of mischief in your tone, pausing to grin at them. The two of them stopped as well, Papyrus sending you a quizzically amused look, Sans humming thoughtfully.

“thinkin' about takin' a huge bite outta that?” he asked, red eye light flickering to the apple in your hand. You snickered.

“No,” you intoned. Papyrus made a speculative sound, tapping his chin with his mittened phalanges.

“Perhaps you are thinking... that that apple would be perfect to save for an edible fruit arrangement?” he asked, and you snorted, glancing up at him with amusement.

“Heehee, what? No,” you said, voice lilting up playfully. Sans huffed out an amused breath.

“alright,” he said, “what'cha thinkin'?” You grinned slyly at him, chortling.

“I was thinking that... you two are really the apple of my eye,” you said, winking at Sans, then glancing up at Papyrus expectantly. Rather than look irate, he seemed almost touched, beaming down at you. Sans chuckled, a cyan blush dusting his cheekbones when you glanced over again, and you felt your own face heating slightly as you grinned nervously.

“heheheh... dunno if that phrase works like that,” Sans said, glancing to the side. He sidled up to you, reaching out anyway, and you took his hand, smiling. Papyrus huffed, moving closer and brushing against your side, leaning down to bump his teeth against your head.

“But the feeling is mutual,” he said gently into your hair, and a sweet warmth bloomed in your chest.

Papyrus can't cut the apples.

He tries as hard as he can, but even though they're using butter knives, the second the dull blade pierces through the skin of the apple, he's a shaky mess, the instrument clattering to the floor. Toriel is right there to comfort him, and the human is right behind her, entering the kitchen slowly at first to see what fell, and then quickly when they see the state Papyrus is in. Sans hovers in the doorway, a tired feeling weighing him down as he takes in the scene; the exiled queen comforting his brother, the human on his other side, held in a one-armed embrace and saying quiet, comforting words.

Sans doesn't hate anyone.

He didn't hate anyone before, and he doesn't hate anyone now, not for what happened in the Underground, not for anything that has happened since. He doesn't hate Frisk for ruining what they had and taking what little hope the monsters had with them when they left. He doesn't hate Toriel for not being stronger and staying in the throne, doesn't hate Undyne for the things she did as Queen, and he certainly doesn't hate Papyrus– he can't hate Papyrus, he could never hate Papyrus.

But after everything, the events of the famine have left him with an ugly, heavy feeling that clings to his bones all the time. And when he shuffles into the kitchen, that same feeling follows him, gets heavier when he sees the knife on the ground, dull and gleaming silver; clean and unassuming.

He adds himself to the comfort pile, gets welcomed with open arms, and when he presses his forehead against his brother's side and gets enveloped by the embrace of not one, but three other people, that feeling fades.

If only for a while.

Chapter Text

It was getting a little late, and you had been wandering around the park looking for leaves to add to your recently-established leaf collection all day, now, but you weren't ready to leave yet. You collection was safely tucked away in your backpack, a large binder full of plastic sleeves and other leaves, as well as a rather thick encyclopedia to press them with, and a few sheets of parchment paper. You had been collecting different colored leaves all week, now that the trees had finished changing color, the bright, fiery palette of fall decorating the tree tops like a forest set on fire.

You had relatively-high standards when it came to the leaves in your collection– even coloring was important, as well as a stem free of breakage or bumps. The blade itself had to be free of cracks and holes, no rips or tears, and if a bug had chewed away at the edges or laid eggs on it, it was an immediate rejection. You had found some real gems today, one of which was a maple leaf in perfect condition with an even, two-toned coloration, split down the middle of the blade with red and yellow. You had preserved it between parchment paper immediately, tucked it away in the encyclopedia to be pressed with the others.

Wind ruffled through your hair as you walked along the path, taking in the sights. Fall was such a beautiful season, one of your absolute favorites. You took a deep inhale to appreciate the crispness of the autumn air, then exhaled slowly, smiling at the cloudy sky. This was such a perfect day to be out walking around, and the perfect time of year to collect leaves.

A bright red leaf fluttered onto the path in your peripheral vision, drawing your eye. It was a tulip leaf– something you'd seen before online, but not something you had in your collection– and it looked to be in perfect condition. The coloring was nice and even, the stem was long and unmarred. It was a perfect leaf, and in that brief moment of zeroing in on it, you decided that you needed it to add to your collection.

You started walking a little faster, intent on snatching it up before the breeze carried it away, but too late. It paused on the dirt path for only a moment, the swiftly fluttered away, carried off by the cool autumn wind. You cursed, then took off after it, the wind picking up as if to mock you, the leaf dodging ahead of you, constantly just out of your grasp. It was as if nature itself were teasing you, dangling the leaf in front of your face before pulling it away with the tug of a string, cackling quietly from just around the corner as you stumbled and rushed to keep up. It blew along towards the brush, and you were sure it would get caught on a branch or something as you followed it off of the path. You grinned excitedly when it did just that, catching onto a bush and fluttering against the branches. Then, just as you got close, the wind changed direction, and it was off again.

“Oh, come on–” you muttered sharply, turning on your heel to trot along after it. You were so single-mindedly focused on catching it that you didn't notice the skeleton monster marching along on the path towards you until the leaf slapped flat against their black, cropped shirt, peeking out from inside his thick leather jacket, and you stopped short, retracting your hand as he drew back as well.

“EXCUSE YOU,” he was saying, but you were watching the leaf still as it flipped around against his shirt, almost as if it were fighting the wind, then twirled around and shot directly up into their rib cage.

“Oh!” you exclaimed as he huffed irritably, skeletal hands that were gloved in black reaching up inside of his shirt to seize it, tutting as he attempted to sidestep you.

“HOW ANNOYING,” he was grumbling, and you dared to step into his path again, one hand raised to stop him as he felt around inside his shirt for the offending leaf. He made a derisive sound, pausing, and you glanced up for the first time as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Um, sorry, please be–” you paused, mildly startled as you took in his appearance. He was scowling down at you, expression almost livid, the effect enhanced by the violently-red lights floating within their sockets, but that wasn't what made you pause. You knew most monsters were scarred, but the long, jagged crack that sliced right through one of his eye sockets, petering off over his cheekbone, was still a little jarring to see, especially since it seemed to go all the way through the bone of his skull, rather than just being a surface-injury. His shark-like teeth were turned sharply downward as he glowered at you, expression somewhere between outraged and offended as you blocked his path. “–u-uh, careful,” you stammered, voice dying as you glanced away nervously, moving to stand directly in front of him and clasping your hands. “Um–”

“BE CAREFUL??” he remarked snidely, rolling his eye lights as he seemed to finally catch the leaf. He pulled it out of his spine-baring shirt, revealing that it had been crumpled it in his clawed phalanges. Your eyes widened and you sucked in a soft, silent breath as you looked at the ruined tulip leaf, stomach dropping as he scoffed, dropping it to fall slowly to your feet. “IT IS A LEAF,” he said coldly, moving to march around you, his heavy boots thumping against the dirt path.

“WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, NEXT TIME,” he muttered, almost as an afterthought, and you didn't respond, bending down to inspect the crumpled leaf, flattening it out against the ground as you frowned, expression pinching with distress.

It was fine... it was really fine, it was just a leaf. Just because you hadn't seen a tulip tree, just because you weren't sure where it came from, that didn't mean you couldn't find it. Besides, you hadn't even managed to catch it, so it's not like you were really losing anything, was it? It was just a leaf. It didn't matter if you lost this one, there were plenty more... somewhere.

Still....

You smoothed it out a little more, as if you could somehow salvage it, but it was completely ruined. The cracks in the blade were bleeding with clear fluid, there was a tear on one of the apexes, and the stem was bent and wouldn't straighten out again. You sighed, lifting it anyway as you slowly stood back up, holding it aloft between your hands, fingers closed gently over the blade.

“WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT ABOUT A LEAF??” his voice barked from right behind you, startling you into jumping and whirling around, fingers curling reflexively into the leaf and tearing it further as you gasped. He was scowling down at you, arms crossed tightly across his chest, but a light red flush was dusted across his cheekbones, and he glanced away, expression darkening further when you looked up at him.

“Oh– you scared me,” you mumbled instead of answering his question, anxiety rattling you slightly and making your mind go blank. You glanced down at the leaf a little forlornly, inspecting the new damage, and he huffed, as if impatient.

“YES, I'M TERRIFYING,” he grumbled dismissively, and you looked up in time to see him roll his eye lights. He glared at you again, and you frowned, clutching the leaf almost protectively– as if there was any more that could be done to it. “NOW WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH IF I DESTROYED A LEAF? WAS IT YOURS?”

“Uh– well, I–” you glanced away, then down at the leaf, gently pulling it flat it between your hands. “Kind of, yeah. I was trying to get it for my leaf collection.”

“LEAF COLLECTION,” he echoed flatly. He looked very unimpressed when you glanced up again, but then his expression seemed to clear, flush darkening slightly. “OH– THAT IS. LIKE A BUTTERFLY COLLECTION, BUT WITH LEAVES INSTEAD OF DISGUSTING INSECTS, YES?”

“Um. Yeah,” you said, reaching up to rub at the back of your neck, “I mean, it's like a collection of anything, but. With leaves, instead,” you went on, forcing a chuckle. He huffed again, seeming to hunch forward and cross his arms a little more tightly, expression souring. “I, uh... have it with me, if you want to see?”

“YOU HAVE YOUR ENTIRE COLLECTION ON YOUR PERSON?” he asked, tone mildly incredulous, gaze flickering to the bag on your back. You nodded, taking one strap off and then letting the bag slide down to your elbow, moving to unzip it quickly. “I DIDN'T SAY I WANTED TO SEE IT!” he exclaimed suddenly, and you paused, then zipped your bag back up with chagrin.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you mumbled, not looking at him as you shouldered your bag again, “I thought–”

“I DIDN'T SAY I DIDN'T WANT TO SEE IT, EITHER!” he interrupted you, tone seemingly frustrated. You blinked up at him, frowning perplexedly, and he groaned, gesturing impatiently with one hand. “JUST– GO AHEAD AND SHOW ME YOUR COLLECTION, ALREADY, I DON'T CARE! YOU HAVE ALREADY TAKEN UP THIS MUCH OF MY TIME, I MIGHT AS WELL SEE WHAT ALL THE FUSS IS ABOUT.”

“...Sure,” you muttered, letting the bag fall to your elbow again, unzipping it once more. You tugged the binder out with one hand, then set your still open bag in the dirt, to the skeleton's apparent disapproval. He narrowed his sockets at the bag, expression crinkling slightly, and you held out your binder for him to take. He snatched it from you, flipping it open to inspect it.

You were suddenly nervous– each leaf was labeled and there was information written on unlined flash cards below them, as well as colorful, paper backgrounds behind each one. You had never shown anyone your binder before, and the experience was actually a little nerve-wracking. What if he didn't like it??

“Uh, it's– not done,” you said quickly, as if in your own defense. His gaze flickered up to you briefly before settling back on the binder as he turned the pages slowly, eye lights seeming to rake over each one. “And– I only started this year in the spring, so it's– uh, it's really just a hobby, I'm not... really as dedicated as some people are with their collections, and... um... I mean, I am, but...” you trailed off, face heating self consciously as he continued to inspect your collection. You almost wanted to reach out and snatch it away from him, change your mind about this and run away to find the tulip tree your ruined leaf had come from. You ran the leaf between your fingers self-consciously as you watched him look through the binder, his silence somehow deafening.

“YOU PUT... A LOT OF WORK INTO THIS,” he said finally, and unless you were imagining things, some very pallid, red beads of sweat were forming along his brow.

“Uh, yeah,” you said quietly, tone almost exhausted from all the stress you were feeling. “I really like it... a lot more than I thought I would, actually.” you tacked on with a chuckle, and he glanced towards you almost nervously, then huffed, snapping the binder shut and handing it back to you.

“WELL– I HAVE NEVER UNDERSTOOD THE URGE TO ACTIVELY COLLECT ANYTHING,” he said as you bent down to pick up your backpack, sliding your binder back in as you listened, then zipping the bag up to shoulder it once again. He narrowed his sockets, glancing to the side, “AN... ACQUAINTANCE OF MINE HAS A RATHER EXTENSIVE BUTTERFLY COLLECTION THAT SHE IS MILDLY OBSESSED WITH MAINTAINING,” his expression seemed to scrunch up with distaste, “BUT SHE HAS ALSO TAKEN TO COLLECTING MOTHS, AND THEN CICADA SHELLS AND... APHIDS, SHE CALLED THEM. RECENTLY, SHE HAS TAKEN A LIKING TO PRAYING MANTISES, AS WELL....”

“Uh, that sounds like a lot of work,” you commented with a chuckle, now holding your leaf with both hands again. He glanced at you with a sharp nod.

“I SUPPOSE COLLECTING LEAVES IS... A MORE SANITARY HOBBY,” he said, gaze drifting up towards the trees, “AND... I UNDERSTAND THAT IF I WERE TO HAVE DESTROYED ONE OF HER... SAMPLES... SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN UNDERSTANDABLY UPSET. ESPECIALLY SINCE SHE, TOO, PUTS A LOT OF EFFORT INTO HER COLLECTION....”

He trailed off, glancing surreptitiously at you and then away again, and you blinked. Was he... trying to apologize to you? For crushing your tulip leaf?

“Oh,” you said quietly, grinning sympathetically up at him. He glanced down again and another light red flush colored his cheekbones. He crossed his arms with a huff, glancing to the side. “Yeah... but, uh, maybe she'd understand. Especially if, you know, you didn't know... it was part of her collection? Or that she even had a collection, to begin with.” He made a disgruntled noise, seeming to grind his sharp teeth. “I bet she'd forgive you.”

“WELL! WHATEVER!” he blustered, “IT'S NOT AS IF I WOULD NEED HER FORGIVENESS! OR ANYONE'S FORGIVENESS, FOR THAT MATTER!” He stomped once, a surprisingly petulant thing for a monster of his size and appearance to do, and you couldn't help but chuckle, glancing away. “WHAT??” he snapped, and you held up your hands in a placating gesture, smiling indulgently.

“Nothing, nothing, it's fine,” you said, reaching up to scratch at your scalp. “Well, anyway... I don't wanna hold you up any longer. Sorry for stopping you, um,” you held up the crumpled leaf, finding his gaze again with a wry grin. “I need to go track down this leaf's tree... So, unless you've seen a tulip tree, and you wanna point me in the right direction...?” you trailed off and he stared at you a moment, then looked at the leaf critically.

“YOU NEED THIS LEAF FOR YOUR COLLECTION,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah, I mean. I guess I don't need it, but I really want it,” you replied with a chortle, flapping it gently, “I haven't actually seen a tulip tree around, so this was kind of a lucky find.”

“I HAVE SEEN A TREE WITH LEAVES LIKE THAT,” he said, frowning and tapping his foot. “SINCE YOU NEED IT FOR YOUR COLLECTION, PERHAPS I COULD TAKE YOU TO IT.” You brightened up suddenly, beaming at him, and he huffed, appearing flustered as he hunched in on himself again, flush darkening.

“What, seriously?? That would be great!” you exclaimed, as he grumbled incoherently to himself, “Yes, absolutely!! Lead the way!” He turned sharply on the spot and marched off along the path at a brisk pace, forcing you to jog to keep up, laughing.

“I AM ONLY DOING THIS BECAUSE I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO!” he snapped irritably, closing his gloved hands into fists and swinging them at his sides. “AND NOT FOR ANY OTHER REASON!”

You stifled a chuckle as you rushed to keep up, then struck your hand out towards him when you drew level with him, grinning. He glared at the appendage, flush darkening a little more as you introduced yourself, then he grumbled, huffing some air out through his nasal cavity and seizing your hand.

“I AM THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS!!” he announced, shaking your hand aggressively and seeming to slow down slightly, as if he had noticed how difficult it was for you to keep up. You smiled as he took back his hand quickly, now marching at a much more reasonable pace.

“It's nice to meet you,” you said. He glanced sharply away, muttering something incoherent as the two of you walked on, the crisp wind still blustering around you in chilly bursts.

Chapter Text

“Whoooooaaahh!!” you exclaimed, beaming drunkenly. “We match!!”

You were at your friend's Halloween party, and you were currently nursing your fifth-- or was it your sixth?-- vodka-lemonade, delightedly tipsy and heading towards full-fledged, singing-on-the-dining-room-table-blasted when you spotted the other skeleton at the party.

Granted, your costume was a little more on the skimpy side-- you hadn't exactly been comfortable wearing it at first, but being drunk out of your mind helped your confidence, and the occasional compliments you'd received didn't hurt, either. So what if you had a little extra chub? So what if your figure wasn't exactly the most feminine? You were rocking these skeleton thigh-highs, the ruffled mini-skirt, the low-cut top with a spine and rib design on it. The costume also came with a pair of elbow-length skeleton gloves (which you really liked), a plastic mask of a skull, and for some reason a little cape, which you were of course wearing, because it was actually kind of cute. Also, the cape covered the backless opening of the top, which was already sleeveless. The whole ensemble was decidedly breezy, but hell if you weren't loving it right now, five-- or six-- deep and really vibing on the music choice, tonight.

Actually, maybe you were closer than you thought to singing on the dining room table. Either way.

The person you had addressed was also wearing a skeleton costume, although theirs was far more traditional, a classic black body-suit with a glow-in-the-dark skeletal structure design. He was also wearing a large, black hoodie, his hands planted firmly in the pockets. The mask was hooded, covering their entire head and neck, the eye sockets glowing vaguely from the inside with what were probably some red lights. How this dude could see through them was lost on you, but you were a little too drunk to care, right now.

“heh. kind of,” the skeleton said with a chuckle, one of the red lights blinking out for a moment. He tilted his head down, clearly giving you a once-over, and then whistled. You giggled. “yers is a lil' more, uh. interestin' than mine...” he said, trailing off, and your giggles broke off into snorting snickers.

“Yeah, I guess,” you intoned drunkenly, taking another sip through your straw, and, “I lost a bet,” you admitted with an exaggerated flourish. They let out an amused huff, leaning back against the wall and tilting their head slightly to look up at you.

“heh, oh yeah? what about?” they said conversationally, and you gestured meaninglessly with both hands while you collected your thoughts, huffing.

“We were drinkin'...” you said with a story-telling air, “spiced rum.”

They just looked at you for a moment, inclining their head as if prompting you to continue. You snorted again, pausing to take another long drink from your glass, then shrugging.

“That's it!!” you exclaimed, “Haven't you ever had spiced rum?? I was s'posed t'shotgun ten glasses, they woulda paid me fifty dollars! But if I lost, I had to wear this,” you gestured down to the outfit, then chuckled. “Or I would've owed them fifty dollars.”

“well, it would'a been a tragedy t'deprive the party'a this sight,” he said wolfishly, chuckling again. You snickered, a little flattered, your face heating slightly behind your mask. He was flirting with you, right? This was flirting??

“StooOoOOOoop,” you said, reaching out to push his shoulder gently, then folding your arm across your torso, snickering. Then, you brightened up suddenly, almost sloshing your drink as you gave a tiny hop. “Oh! Oh, hey!!”

“uh-- yeah?” he asked with a chortle, and you sidled over to him, reaching into your shirt to pull out your phone, to his apparent amusement, as he started chuckling again.

“We're the only skeletons here,” you began, and he huffed.

“saw another skeleton earli--”

“We're the only ones,” you repeated more firmly. He snickered as you held your phone up, unlocking it, and, “So let's take a selfie together!” you exclaimed brightly, grinning down at him.

He stared at you for a moment, then hummed, tilting his head slightly.

“how 'bout we take two,” he said, “one with the masks, one without.”

“Hehe, yeah, okay!” you said, bumping into his side a little playfully. You lifted your mask slightly to down the rest of your drink, then set the empty cup on a nearby surface before leaning against the wall next to him, slinging your arm over his shoulders. He seemed to tense up, but he didn't pull away, and as you opened the camera app on your phone, turning on the front-facing camera, you grinned, even though your face was hidden.

“Okay, say like...” you began, voice wavering with amusement, “I mean, both of our faces are hidden, but like... say like... cheese, okay?” He exhaled an amused breath, leaning towards you as he looked up into the camera lens.

“yeah sure,” he said, and you snapped the picture a second before he went on, “cheese--” You snorted, leaning away and taking your arm back to look at the picture, giggling. He gave a short, dry chuckle, seemingly less entertained than he was a moment ago, and you reached up to tug your mask off, beaming at him.

“Alright!” you said, oblivious to his sudden shift in mood, “You said let's take two, right?” You looped the string of the mask around your wrist, let it slip down to your elbow as you grinned down at him expectantly.

“heh. alright,” he said, reaching up to pull at the hem of his mask, “this should be good.”

He pulled it off, revealing his face, and you almost guffawed-- another skull was staring back at you, one that was much more animated than his mask. He had an admittedly-scary, shark-like grin stretching across his features, one of his large canines replaced with a golden tooth, the root surrounded by fractures. A large crack ran over his scalp, ending just over one of his brow bones, and he seemed to be scowling tiredly at you, his grin flat. His eye sockets were much larger than an average, human skeleton's, and inside were two floating red lights-- the red lights you'd noticed glowing behind his mask.

You couldn't hold in your laughter, reaching up to cover your mouth as you giggled helplessly, leaning back against the wall while he huffed, glaring at you. One side of his flat grin raised into something like a smirk, his sockets listing derisively.

“what's funny, bub?” he asked, tone carefully neutral, and you tried to muffle your snickers, flapping one hand towards him.

“You-- you're a skeleton monster,” you said through your laughter, “and you sh- you showed up dressed in a-- in that!!” His expression seemed to relax a little, though the glare stayed fixed in place. He huffed, red lights dancing to the side as his smirk dropped.

“heh. yup,” he said, and you noticed that his sharp teeth didn't budge as he spoke, remaining tightly shut. He tilted his head again as he looked up at you, “that's the joke, alright.” You laughed harder at his dry tone of voice, almost slipping down the wall and reaching over for your cup-- then you remembered it was empty and laughed even more, retracting your hand.

“Oh-- okay--” you forced yourself to calm down, taking a few breaths, “fuuuck, I want another drink.” You smiled coyly at him, sidling close again, “After we take this picture, you wanna navigate this mess of a party and get a drink with me?”

He stared for a moment, then he hummed, both sides of his flat grin quirking up for a moment as he narrowed his sockets at you, huffing out a breath.

“sure,” he said, and you beamed, then leaned down to sling your arm around his shoulders again, squeezing him into your side as you took the next picture. “cheese,” he was saying, and you snickered, pulling the phone down to show him the picture, boldly looping your arm around his neck as you navigated between the two selfies.

“heh,” he chuckled, a light red dusting across his cheekbones, presumably from your proximity. “you gotta send me those.”

“OooOOooooh,” you sang playfully, leaning away and removing your arm from him, “are you asking for my number??” He seemed decidedly amused at your tone, sockets actually lifting at the bottom, scowl fading further as he chortled.

“maybe,” he said haughtily, straightening out of his hunch and closing one eye socket, “you gonna give it to me?”

“Aaaaaaa!!” you shrieked with a sudden, flustered laugh, drawing the attention of some nearby party goers, who laughed as well, even though they had no idea what you were amused by. “What?? Oh my God!” He huffed a sharp breath out through his nasal cavity, looking even more amused as he chuckled along.

“heheh, what??” he asked, and you snorted, waving a hand in his face and shaking your head, “no, what?? th'fuck's so funny??”

“You don't know!!” you gasped out, shaking with mirth. You pushed his shoulder lightly again, giggling. “It's okay, I'll tell you when you're older.” It was his turn to burst out laughing, sending you a perplexed look.

“excuse me???” he asked, and you chuckled quietly, tucking your phone back into your shirt.

“Aanyway,” you said, swaying slightly as you leaned back against the wall. “Is this like... it's not weird for you, right?” His expression became a little guarded again, eye lights surveying you cautiously.

“heh. what'cha mean?” he asked, and you gestured to your outfit. He suddenly looked supremely amused, quirking a brow at you with an even more confused expression. You snorted.

“I mean like... skeleton costumes,” you said, face heating slightly. “Is it weird to see humans like... dress up like you, then give you... I mean, I know humans give monsters shit for like... I dunno....” His expression flattened out suddenly, looking tired and a little irritable. He huffed.

“yeah, sure, weird, let's go with that,” he muttered, cutting his sockets at you. A little amusement crept back into his expression, and he very pointedly gave you a once-over, grin turning almost wolfish. “if they were all like yours, i wouldn't mind too much...” he trailed off suggestively, and you giggled, shaking your head.

“Stooooop,” you said again, pressing a hand to your face and hamming up your reaction, pretending to be embarrassed. “You're makin' me bluuuuuush.” His irritation seemed to fade for a moment, replaced with humor as he chuckled along with you. Then he hummed, winking at you again.

“yeah. kinda bothers me,” he said, shrugging. “s'a lil' easier fer me t'lean into it. my bro hates it, but,” he glanced to the side, “s'a... human tradition thing. a human nature thing... guess i'm too lazy t'give a shit, sometimes.” You actually did blush this time, looking down and humming.

“Uh-- should I-- I could take it off, and--” His expression lit up with amusement and he glanced at you sharply, winking. Your words caught up to you, but too late--

“well, if yer offerin',” he purred, and you barked out a laugh.

“StoOOoOOooOop!!” you wailed loudly, pressing the back of one hand to your forehead in a dramatically-scandalized gesture, really channeling some southern-belle energy. He started laughing, shaking his skull, and you giggled, leaning heavily against the wall. “No, but like... uh, I didn't think about it when I picked it out... but I probably should have, so... m'sorry about... it.” He grinned wryly up at you, sockets listing slightly as he huffed. “I wouldn't-- wear it again--”

“oh, i dunno,” he purred, sidling up to you this time and slinging an arm around your waist. “i could think of a couple scenarios where it might come in handy.” You snickered, eyes crinkling when you glanced at him again, huffing.

“Oh my Gooooood,” you said, turning away from him dramatically, “How many times are you gonna make me blush?? I'm drunk, you villain~!” He actually giggled this time, the sound so odd coming out of his sharp maw that it made you giggle too, glancing back down at him mischievously. He let you go, stepping away and rolling his eye lights.

“yeah, maybe ya had enough,” he said, chortling, and you gasped.

“No!! The night just started, and I haven't sang on a single table!” you exclaimed, making him snicker, sockets lifting at the bottom.

“you need another drink to do that?” he asked jokingly, and you pushed yourself off the wall, expression determined.

“I need many drinks to do that,” you said, lifting one hand in front of you to grip into a fist, and he responded with laughter, shaking his skull.

When you woke up the next day, you had a pretty bad hangover. You were in your apartment, the room lit dimly by the light streaming in through the window behind your bed, your costume feeling uncomfortable after having been slept in all night. Your skirt had slipped off at some point and was laying on the floor, the cape hanging askew and tangled around your shoulders. With a groan, you dragged yourself into a sitting position, feeling heavy and stiff. Your phone was sitting on the side table, and you reached for it on instinct, teeth feeling gross, eyes burning with sleep.

You had a few texts, one from your friend that was sent during the party, asking where you'd gone off to. There was another from them asking if you made it home alright, and you quickly texted back with an apology and an update about your severely-hungover condition.

The next text was from earlier in the day, sent by an unknown number.

Unknown
hey it's me sans
“the only other skeleton in the room”
don't know if you remember, but you gave me your number
text me sometime. wink emoji

The message made you laugh lightly, and while the events of the night did get a little fuzzy after you met him, you definitely remembered taking a few selfies with him. You sent them to him in response, a tiny smile on your face as you tacked out another reply.

(123)456-7890
[MMS message]
[MMS message]

(123)456-7890
Yeah, I remember, lol. “wink emoji” lolol
We should hang out sometime soon when I'm not hung over and dying

His response came pretty quickly, while you were debating whether or not you were going to wear these skeleton thigh-highs for the rest of the day or not, and simultaneously contemplating a shower.

Sans
fuck yeah
if you die that'd fuck up our plans though so like
stay alive i guess

Sans
also let's not go drinking

You snickered, putting a hand to your throbbing headache and nodding as you typed out a reply one-handed.

(123)456-7890
Motion fucking seconded, lol

Chapter Text

“Alright,” you began quietly as the three of you reached the entrance to the corn maze, your group hovering a little farther away from everyone else as you waited for the go ahead to start. “You both know the secret to mazes, right?”

Sans huffed derisively from beside you, clad in a deep purple sweater with a trail of little bats across the front-- it was something you'd picked out for him, and it made you kind of happy that he had decided to wear it. He cut his sockets at you-- or at least, the one socket that was still working. His right socket had been so badly hurt some years ago (an injury he had never told you the story behind) that it barely resembled a socket anymore, more an open gash in the side of his face with splintered cracks around the edges, and empty of the bright, violet light floating inside his working socket, which was currently focused on you.

Beside him, Papyrus was leaning against the wooden fence leading up to the corn maze entrance, impassive face turned towards you, violet eye lights half-focused on your face-- which at least meant that he was listening. He was wearing his signature purple hoodie, a pull-over that was well-loved and filled with holes that you had sewn and re-sewn closed yourself. For some reason, he refused to replace it, and whenever you or Sans bought him a new pair of jeans, he filled those with holes, too. The pair he was wearing today had a large hole over his kneecap on one leg, a few smaller holes on the other.

“YES, OF COURSE WE KNOW THE SECRET TO MAZES,” Sans was saying, shark-like grin flattened out in a neutral expression.

“Oh?” you asked, crossing your arms while the organizers talked among their selves, probably getting ready to start, “What is it, then?”

“Corn... maize...” Papyrus muttered suddenly, hands twitching in his pocket, sharp teeth twitching with an almost-smile. His gaze traveled to the corn maze, and, “There's somethin' there....” he murmured. You snorted, and Sans narrowed his socket at Papyrus, humming.

“THERE IS NOT,” he snapped, “UNLESS YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT THE PRIZE AT THE END! IN WHICH CASE! YOU'RE CORRECT, THERE IS SOMETHING THERE!” He shifted his gaze to you, teeth quirking up into a haughty grin. “WHICH! IS THE SECRET OF THE MAZE, BY THE WAY.” You huffed out an amused breath, smiling at him.

“That's not a secret, though,” you chortled, eyes crinkling with amusement, “Everybody knows there's a prize at the end.”

“WELL,” he drew himself up, putting his hands on his hips-- he was wearing a pair of thick purple gloves, covering his incredibly sharp phalanges. “NOBODY KNOWS WHAT IT IS, DO THEY?”

“I mean, I guess not,” you said with a chuckle, glancing between them. You uncrossed your arms to mirror Sans' posture, putting your hands on your hips and humming knowingly. “But I was talking about something else...” you went on, trailing off mysteriously and glancing away. Papyrus huffed out a quiet chuckle from nearby and your lips quirked up into a smirk reflexively, “If you guys don't want to know, though....”

“OF COURSE I WANT TO KNOW,” Sans said with a scoff, and you snickered, “WE WANT TO WIN, DON'T WE?”

“Alright, then huddle up,” you said, gesturing for them to come closer.

Sans complied right away, looking very serious as he drew closer and leaned in, slinging an arm around your shoulder while you slung yours over his. The both of you looked to Papyrus, who was still staring off at the corn maze, one hand fiddling with something in his pocket.

“PAPYRUS!” Sans hissed urgently. You snickered again at his intensity and saw his teeth twitch, though his scowl remained fixed in place. Papyrus glanced over a little belatedly and blinked once, a quiet chuckle escaping his teeth.

“Nyeh heh... what's happening?” he asked, pushing off of the fence anyway and coming over to huddle with the both of you, throwing his arms over both yours and Sans' shoulders before slumping down. Sans scoffed, supporting his weight with a roll of his eye light.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE PAYING ATTENTION!” he said. Papyrus chortled.

“Oh, heh, nah,” he replied, eye lights dancing to the side. “Was thinkin' 'bout somethin' else.”

“OF COURSE YOU WERE,” Sans huffed, then turned back to you, “WELL, WE'RE ALL PRESENT. SORT OF.” He sent a look towards Papyrus again, and one half of Sans' sharp grin quirked up into a smirk.

“Yup, m'present, milord n'human,” he said with a hint of sarcasm, tilting his head towards you slightly, and you chuckled.

“Okay, well, I feel like I'm kind of building this up too much, now,” you said, face heating slightly at Papyrus' proximity. You cleared your throat, lowering your voice slightly. “But-- the secret to mazes is just this-- you put a hand on the left wall and just follow it the whole way through.”

“Wowie,” Papyrus said, teeth quirking up on one side, “that's a-maze-ing.”

“PAPYRUS,” Sans huffed with disapproval, sending him a narrow-eyed look, then glancing back at you. “THAT SOUNDS COUNTERPRODUCTIVE IF WE WANT TO BE THE FASTEST ONES TO THE END,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder at the corn maze. “ALSO, THERE ARE NO WALLS. JUST CORN.”

“Well, yeah, just follow the left side. The corn wall?” you said with a shrug, “Listen, everybody is just going to be walking in circles and losing their sense of direction--”

“A-maze-ing,” Papyrus interjected, “It works on two levels.”

“We just have to keep turning left,” you went on, voice wavering slightly with amusement as you forced yourself to ignore Papyrus' comment. Sans hummed, then leaned up out of the huddle, leaving you with Papyrus' arm still draped over your shoulders as he slumped his weight onto you instead of Sans. You huffed, struggling to hold him up while Sans marched a few steps away and crossed his arms, seeming to survey the maze. “You're heavy, Papyrus, please.”

“Nyeh heh yeah,” he mumbled with a laugh, leaning on you more heavily. You groaned, feigning irritation, but your face was burning.

“COULDN'T WE JUST DO THE SAME THING GOING RIGHT?” Sans asked, while you used both of your hands to hold Papyrus up, trying not to fall over as he shook with silent laughter. Sans turned around and didn't even comment on your plight, merely quirking a brow as he went on. “IT SEEMS LIKE THAT SHOULD WORK AS WELL.”

“Okay-- yes-- I think so-- but--” you huffed, glowering at Papyrus and shifting to bend forward and hold his weight with your back. With a tiny grunt, he leaned against you like you were a side table. “That's basically semantics, Sans, I feel like you're just being contrary.”

“I'M NOT BEING CONTRARY!” Sans exclaimed, as if he were offended, putting his hands on his hips and scoffing. “MAYBE YOU'RE BEING CONTRARY!”

“I swear to God,” you muttered, twisting around and pushing Papyrus with all your might to stand him up again, then dancing away quickly. He chuckled, following you over to Sans and tugging a pink joint out of his pocket, twirling it between his phalanges. Sans' working eye socket narrowed. “We can go right if you want, but everything I've seen says follow the left wall.”

“I can always jus'. Y'know, find the exit,” Papyrus said with a wink, looking between you and Sans mischievously. Sans hummed as if considering this, and you frowned.

“That's cheating, Papyrus,” you said, as he pulled out his lighter and lifted the joint to his teeth, sockets creasing slightly when he glanced at you. While you were looking at him, the blunt was suddenly snatched out of his hand by a purple glow, and he snickered, gaze shifting to his brother. You glanced over too, in time to see Sans tuck the joint into his pocket with a haughty expression.

“YES,” he was saying, while Papyrus pocketed his lighter, a wry grin stretched across his teeth. “THAT IS CHEATING, AND IT'S MORALLY WRONG, AND... ETCETERA,” he said, sending Papyrus a very serious look, clearly trying to silently communicate with his brother. You crossed your arms.

“Yeah, a'right.... Sure,” Papyrus said, winking once at Sans, his socket closing slowly.

“If you go and 'find the exit',” you began, lowering your voice slightly in a mocking way. Papyrus glanced down at you with an amused expression, sockets creasing slightly again, “I'll know. And I'll tell somebody when we make it out.”

“NOBODY IS CHEATING!” Sans exclaimed, tone scandalized, and you glanced over at him. He was standing with one hand pressed against his sternum in disbelief, the other held behind his back, his teeth pulled up into a smirk. “WE FOLLOW ALL HUMAN LAWS AND REGULATIONS!”

“Nyeh heh, yeah,” Papyrus chimed in, and you frowned at him. “'Sides, how ya gonna know I did it if m'super fast about it?”

“Papyrus,” you said, injecting your tone with disappointment. His grin flickered a moment. “You wouldn't. It's against the rules, and it won't be fun anymore if you just cheat for us. Come on....”

He stared at you for a moment, then glanced away, grin falling slightly.

“Yeah, alright,” he said again, tone mildly defeated. “Sure.”

“PAPYRUS!” Sans yelled, sounding slightly frustrated. You smiled up at Papyrus, whose expression softened. He chuckled.

“Nyeh heh heh, sorry, Sans,” he said, hand fiddling with something in his pocket as he glanced away again. “S'against th'rules.” Sans made a disgusted sound, then huffed, turning around to face the maze again.

“FINE,” he began, “THEN, I GUESS--” but before he could continue, one of the organizers started waving for everyone's attention, letting them know that the event would be starting soon. Your group moved forward with everyone else, and with all of the chatter of the crowd suddenly surrounding you, you could barely hear your own thoughts, let alone anything the brothers might be saying. A knot of anxiety began to tie itself around your chest, and you pursed your lips.

Reflexively, you reached for Papyrus' arm, grasping his jacket gently and staring at the ground while you waited for the noise to stop. He shifted closer after a beat, linking his arm with yours instead, and you directed a grateful smile at the dirt below your feet.

It was a little easier to breath in the maze proper, but you left your arm linked with Papyrus', even after everyone had branched off in different, random directions, forging their path through the maze. Sans was ahead of you, leading the way, and you were trailing one hand against the corn stalks along one side of the path. The three of you were alone now, after having been followed for a short while by another group, and then abandoned by them when they saw how many dead ends you were hitting. Maybe they overheard your conversation from earlier and thought you were going to cheat, after all.

“MOVING THROUGH A MAZE LIKE THIS IS POINTLESS,” Sans was muttering as the three of you meandered along, eyeing the thick walls of corn bordering either side of the path with a sneer, “I COULD GO RIGHT THROUGH THESE FLIMSY PLANT WALLS.”

“Yeah, but it's more fun this way,” you said, fingers snagging a leaf and tugging it along or a moment before letting it go to flop back into place.

“OR, IF I COULD SOMEHOW GAIN A BIRD'S EYE VIEW, I COULD SIMPLY MAP OUT OUR PATH,” Sans went on with a huff, taking the next left and disappearing from sight for a moment in his haste to be the first to finish. You and Papyrus rounded the corner after him, you speeding up slightly and urging Papyrus along.

“Yeah, well, when you suddenly sprout wings and fly, you let me know,” you commented, and Papyrus chuckled next to you. Sans scoffed.

“I SURELY WILL,” he informed you dryly. It made you smile in spite of yourself, and you let out an amused hum.

“Don't go too far ahead,” you warned him as he took the next corner, disappearing from view again. He gave a noncommittal grunt in response, and you rolled your eyes. “I mean it, Sans, we might end up losing you.”

“WE'RE ALL GOING THE SAME WAY, AREN'T WE?” he asked irritably, not slowing his pace at all. He was much farther ahead when you rounded the next corner, almost at the next fork in the path already. “I DOUBT YOU'LL LOSE ME. JUST SPEED UP A BIT, YOU WANT TO WIN, DON'T YOU?” he sniffed, then paused at the fork, glancing down the left and studying it for a moment.

“THAT'S A DEAD END,” he remarked idly, turning right instead. You grumbled, finally letting go of Papyrus' arm and sending him a grin before speeding up to catch up to Sans. In your peripheral, you caught sight of him pulling a new joint out of his pocket, and it made you smirk as you jogged along. Papyrus didn't bother keeping pace with you.

“Sans!” you called, coming up on the corner and huffing when you looked around the wall of corn. He was gone, presumably having already taken the next left, which was only a few feet away from the corner. You sighed, glancing back as you waited for Papyrus to catch up. He was indeed smoking, a purple joint between his gloved phalanges, light purple smoke floating into the air in a wispy column.

“Saaaans!!” you yelled as you turned back towards the direction he'd sped off in. There was a beat of silence, and then--

“IF I GET TO THE END BEFORE YOU TWO,” he called back from somewhere in the distance, “I'M GOING TO KEEP THE PRIZE! AND! IF IT'S MONEY! I'M SPENDING IT ALL ON GRILLBY!”

“Aw, come on!” you yelled back, frowning, “We're supposed to do this as a team!”

“AND WE WILL LOSE AS A TEAM AT THIS RATE!” His voice was farther away now, and you sighed. “YOU HAVE ALREADY GIVEN ME THE KEY TO MY VICTORY AND YOUR DEFEAT, HUMAN!” Papyrus hovered by your side, having caught up to you, and the gentle scent of blueberry frosting drifted down from his joint, wafting past you on the breeze. A little farther away now, Sans' distant voice called out to you once more.

“LATER, SUCKERS!!”

“What a dingus,” you muttered. Papyrus snickered, and when you glanced up, he looked highly amused, shaking his skull. It made you chuckle, gesturing for him to follow along as you took the right turn to follow Sans. A glance down the left told you what Sans had already confirmed-- it was a dead end.

“Sure ya don't wanna just get t'the end?” he asked after a moment, trailing along at your side as you took the next left, letting one hand brush along the stalks of corn again. “Think th'look on his face would be worth cheatin'.”

“Nah,” you said, throwing him a wan smile and then looking forward again. “Just 'cause he can't handle the idea of losing doesn't mean we need to rush.”

“Nyeh heh, alright,” he said quietly as you took another left, wandering down the path, his footsteps crunching along slowly behind you. There were two branches on the right down this part of the maze, and the end...

Was a dead end. You huffed mildly as you passed the second branching path, eyeing the left side of the path and frowning. When you turned around, just before you reached the end, intent on heading down the first left, you almost walked square into Papyrus' sternum. He had been following along rather closely, apparently, and you flushed lightly, glancing up as you took a tiny step back, chuckling nervously.

“Sorry, du--” your words stuck in your throat when you saw his expression, sockets hooded, eye lights bright and intent, staring down at you. A lazy grin stretched across his features, light purple smoke drifting up through the cracks, and he took a step towards you, drawing closer. You swallowed silently. “Um, hey,” you said in a small voice, face suddenly burning. His smile grew and he chuckled, leaning towards you.

“Hey,” he breathed, holding his joint off to the side as he dipped right down into your space. You didn't pull back, eyes wide like a dear caught in headlights, blood rushing in your ears as he drew closer, face now level with yours. He lifted his free hand and trailed sharp, gloved claws gently along the skin of your jaw, traced goosebumps down your neck.

This wasn't exactly unfamiliar territory for you with him-- he had jokingly flirted with you plenty of times in the past, gentle bumps here, ghosting touches there, flustering comments in between-- but this was different. The way he was looking at you in this moment was different, the way his touches were lingering, the way his gaze never faltered, focused intently, stoking a sudden heat somewhere inside of you.

You waited, holding your breath as he gazed at you, body tense with anticipation. But he didn't do anything, just gazed into your eyes, sockets listing further, fingers tracing patterns against your heated skin. After a moment, he chuckled again, breath ghosting out over your face. It smelled like blueberries and sugar, dried fruits and baked goods, and you took a shaky, shallow breath, leaning towards him almost reflexively, your eyelids fluttering. His grin turned almost wolfish, eye lights dimming, expanding, getting a little hazy around the edges.

“You wanna kiss me?” he murmured quietly, moving his hand to cradle the side of your face, leaning in to gently touch his forehead to yours. You nodded mutely and his whole face went soft around the edges, smile turning saccharine like honey, sockets crinkling with something undeniably fond. He bumped his forehead against yours again, lightly rolled it from side to side.

You let your eyes slip shut then, leaned in to close the short distance between you and pressed a soft kiss to his teeth, lingered sweetly as he sighed, his teeth parting slightly.

He tasted like blueberries and sugar. Dried fruits and baked goods.

You pressed another chaste kiss along the jagged line of his mouth, then another when he giggled softly, a quiet rumble building in his chest, his thumb tracing a feather-light line back and forth over your cheekbone. He must have pocketed his joint, because his other hand came up to cradle the other side of your face, to caress your skin as he nuzzled you.

You kissed him again, hidden deep in the corn maze, reached up to drape your arms around his neck, to nuzzle him back as the breeze whispered gently through the cornstalks.

The rest of the maze race would have to wait, for now.

Chapter Text

It was Halloween night, and that meant only one thing–

Well, it meant several things, actually, but one the only important thing it meant was that it was movie marathon night! Papyrus had agreed to watch scary movies with you this year, on the condition that there would be no actual scary movies in the mix. He wasn't a fan of horror, as he had told you on several other occasions, remaining averse to it even when you had tried to coax him into watching some of your favorites. It was fine, of course, but you wanted to share this tradition with him, had been wanting to since you started dating last year.

So, true to your word and more than happy to accommodate him, you had gone out and selected some of the funniest horror movies you could find, starting with a few obvious picks, then moving on to more obscure ones based on reviews you'd seen on the internet. You were sure that all of them would be too terrible to be actually scary, and so far everything had been going much better than expected. You were three movies in, and if Papyrus had been nervous in the beginning, he was certainly more relaxed now, after laughing through every movie you'd selected so far. The latest one was almost over, a disaster movie about birds who were destroying a town because of... climate change, apparently.

Papyrus was laughing into your scalp, face buried in your hair as the two of you sat cuddled up on the couch. You were sitting in his lap and squished up against his sternum, and the both of you were wrapped in a large, soft comforter like a warm cocoon, with him holding onto you like a human-sized teddy bear. There were two large bowls on the table, and both of them were almost empty by now, but they had previously been filled with a variety of chips and popcorn, respectively.

“God, that one was so bad,” you were saying through a chuckle as the credits rolled, stretching and bumping your scalp against his chin as you straightened up to switch the movie out.

“I DISAGREE,” he chortled, letting you go with a bit of reluctance and watching you stand up to eject the movie and select the next one. “I THOUGHT IT WAS QUITE CHARMING!”

“I mean, don't get me wrong,” you said jokingly, taking the disc out and looking at the other movies you had laid out– one of them was a pallet cleanser, an actual good movie to end on that still wasn't scary, and the other two were more of the same. “I still absolutely loved it, and it's one of my favorites...”

“RIGHTFULLY SO,” he said and you snickered, selecting the movie with the living gingerbread man on the cover– the one you had been a little anxious to watch, because it looked so absolutely ridiculous that you had actually been excited when you'd picked it out.

“Let's watch the gingerbread one,” you said resolutely, popping the disc into the DVD player and then bouncing back up and over to his lap. He welcomed you with open arms, wrapping you back up in your blanket burrito immediately, and you giggled as the two of you melted back into the couch, him with a pleased sort of rumble that you could feel buzz through his ribs. You wiggled around slightly, pressing against him to better cuddle, and he huffed out an amused breath.

“CUTE,” he commented, pressing his teeth to your head, and you snorted, nuzzling your head against his skull.

“You're cute,” you mumbled, then seized the remote from where it was laying next to his leg and hit play.

He squeezed you against him with another pleased hum, then planted his jaw on your shoulder as the two of you settled in for another movie, pressing his skull against the side of your face. You couldn't really reach the remaining snacks like this, but it was warm, and you weren't really all that hungry anymore, anyway.

You had expected this to be a slasher movie, but you had hoped it would be more absurd, based on the fact that the villain was a possessed gingerbread man– more like Scary Movie than an actual horror film. But, when the first death happened, you felt Papyrus flinch as the character being murdered screamed, felt him tense when blood spurted across the screen, and you frowned, turning your head to look at him. His expression appeared a little anxious, teeth pulled into a flat line, and you wiggled one arm up out of the blanket to pap him gently on the jaw. His whole expression softened as he tilted his head to look at you instead of the screen, teeth curving up into a smile.

“YES? WHAT IS IT, SWEETS, THE GINGERBREAD MAN IS TRYING TO MURDER,” he said, and you snickered, papping him softly again before pulling your hand back into your warm cocoon.

“You, um, like the movie, right?” you asked quietly, and his brows creased slightly, gaze drifting as he hummed uncertainly. “Cause we can stop watching it. Half the jokes kind of suck, anyway.”

“NO, IT'S FINE,” he said, glancing back at the screen, where characters were still screaming and being chased by the living cookie. “I AM NOW INVESTED. WHAT WILL HE DO NEXT? MURDER, MAYBE. BUT WILL HE FIND LOVE...?” You laughed, shaking your head and leaning back into his sternum.

“Probably not, Papyrus,” you answered quietly, and he barked out a soft laugh, nuzzling his skull against your cheek. “He's probably just gonna keep killing people.”

“WELL, PERHAPS,” he said with a fake sigh, resting his head against yours and squeezing you against him.

You settled in with a real sigh, contentedly melting against him. If it weren't for the horror movie playing on screen, you probably could have fallen asleep right here, all warm and comfortable in the arms of your favorite person in the world. Hell, maybe you still would, but then the night would effectively be over, because you knew Papyrus wouldn't wake you up once you were out. He'd just take you up to bed and tuck you in, all sweet and careful so he wouldn't disturb your sleep, and you didn't want the night to end just yet.

You played with his fingers under the blanket, barely focused on the movie playing in front of you, and it seemed like he was distracted as well. He nuzzled into the side of your head, bumped his teeth against your cheek, and you giggled, turning your head to plant a gentle kiss against his jaw. He tightened his arms around you, leaned forward a bit, and you knew he was far more focused on you than he was on the movie–

But a blood-curdling scream cut through the air at that moment, another victim claimed by the gingerbread man, and Papyrus became incredibly tense once more, arms turning to stone around you, teeth almost grinding together. You didn't have to look to know that there would be blood everywhere on screen, and you let out a tiny sigh, concerned gaze finding Papyrus' nervous features. You reached up and gently stroked the side of his skull, ran your thumb over his cheekbone, and his features seemed to melt.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently, and he hummed, brows coming together again as he glanced away. You could tell he was about to lie, so you cut in, “It's okay if you don't like the movie–”

“NO! I DO!” he said stubbornly, as you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. He sighed, rolling his skull from side to side, expression strained behind his smile. “WE CAN KEEP WATCHING. IT'S FINE, SWEETS, I... DO LIKE IT....”

You hummed dubiously, leaning away from him to glance back towards the bloodshed on screen with a wince.

“Well... um,” you turned back to him and curled against his chest slightly, frowning. “I don't... It's... a little scary, isn't it?”

“IS IT?” he asked, hand moving to rub your arm, “I– I DON'T THINK SO! BUT, IF YOU'RE SCARED...”

“Yeah, it's kind of scary,” you said, still stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. You smiled up at him when he leaned into your palm, glanced away shyly when he lifted his own hand to settle it over yours. “I don't really like it. There's too much blood.”

“OH! WELL!” he said, drawing himself up proudly and lowering his hand to seize the remote, “IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, WE SHOULD PROBABLY STOP WATCHING IT!” he went on, hitting stop and then ejecting it faster than it could display the title screen. You snickered, pulling away slightly to stretch, dropping your hand to his shoulder.

“Right, we should,” you said, then dipped in for a quick kiss. He huffed out a tiny sigh, pressed his forehead against yours again, and you hummed. “Thank you, Papyrus.”

“OF COURSE,” he said, wrapping his arms around you once more, discarding the remote to lay somewhere on one of the couch cushions. You draped your arms over his shoulders, sent a demure smile towards the carpet.

“Um...did you want to watch another one, or?” you asked shyly, and he hummed thoughtfully, seeming to take his time deciding. His gaze drifted back to the TV, and he considered it quietly for a moment, then looked back at you, sockets seeming to list slightly.

“WELL... YOU DID SAY THAT YOU HAD SELECTED A PALLET CLEANSER,” he said, nuzzling against your face gently. “I WOULD HATE TO SKIP IT, ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU SAID IT WAS ONE OF YOUR FAVORITES...”

“We can just... put it on,” you said, glancing to the side as your face heated, “It's a really good movie.”

He chuckled, nodding, and you leaned away to stand and switch the movie out, adjusting your hair nervously as he let you go. You put the horror movie back in its case, set it aside to collect dust until you either donated it or had a yard sale, then put A Nightmare Before Christmas into the player, stood up to immediately find your way back to his lap. He hit play absently, then wrapped the both of you back into your blanket burrito, snuggling together again.

You ended up not really paying much attention to the movie, too wrapped up in Papyrus to even watch the ending. Papyrus, however, apparently had incredible multi-tasking abilities, because he was quoting it the next morning over breakfast, and had somehow memorized most of the songs.

You sang along with him as you finished eating, giggled and leaned against his side when the two of you did the dishes together.