Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Blackberry and Edge shared a look after both of them glanced at the clock. It wasn’t like Papyrus or Blue to be late—especially not to one of their communal cooking sessions. “Five more minutes,” Edge said authoritatively, “Then we call them.”

Blackberry looked a little uneasy about that, but he nodded. They continued to pull ingredients from the pantry and line them up, preparing. Pizza was on the menu for tonight, and they’d need plenty to feed the eleven skeletons coming over to the Twistfell brother’s house this evening. Plus dessert, of course. Not that the four cooks weren’t up to the challenge, but Papyrus and Blue’s absence was starting to make Edge a little antsy.

Twist was not helping, of course. He leaned on the breakfast bar, pestering the two younger skeletons with inane questions. Finally, Edge had enough and kicked him out of the kitchen, earning a glare from Blackberry. Twist left with a chuckle and a jaunty wave, apparently unaffected by Edge’s banishment. Blackberry, however, glared at Edge. “He was being annoying and you know it,” Edge protested.

“He’s my brother,” Blackberry said sharply, “and this is my house. If you can’t be nice—“

Edge rolled his eyelights, unable to take any of his threats seriously. “Yes. And you can make food for eleven—or ten—people all by yourself, since Blue and Papyrus still haven’t—“

The front door opened and closed, and both Blackberry and Edge turned, looking past the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Papyrus was hurrying through the front door, tying an apron on over his clothing. “MY APOLOGIES! I WENT BY BLUE’S HOUSE TO PICK HIM UP, BUT I’M AFRAID HIS HEAT JUST STARTED, SO HE WON’T BE JOINING US TODAY OR THIS EVENING.” He bustled into the kitchen and surveyed the ingredients laid out on the table. “I SUPPOSE WE SHOULD START WITH THE PIZZA DOUGH?”

But both Edge and Blackberry were staring at him with confusion. “…Heat?” Blackberry finally asked, “Like a fever? Is he sick? Should we bring over some soup?”

Papyrus froze. “TWISTED-ME NEVER TALKED TO YOU ABOUT HEAT CYCLES?” There was a surprising note of irritation in his tone.

Blackberry hesitated. “Should he have?”

Papyrus closed his sockets and took a deep breath. “ONE MOMENT, PLEASE.” He walked out of the kitchen, and Blackberry immediately turned to Edge.

“Do you know what he’s talking about?” he asked.

Edge shook his head slowly, a prickle of warning running along his spine. “No. I don’t.”

“Hmmm.” Blackberry cocked his head. “Maybe…maybe it’s a Tale-verse thing?”

Edge didn’t reply immediately, watching the hall where Papyrus had disappeared. His soul was uneasy, unsettled. “Perhaps.”

Papyrus returned, pushing Twist head of him. Cash, looking amused, trailed behind them. He took a seat at one of the bar stools while Papyrus guided Twist into the kitchen and planted him in front of Blackberry. “EXPLAIN TO YOUR LITTLE BROTHER WHAT A HEAT CYCLE IS,” he ordered, arms crossed.

All eyes were on Twist—Papyrus’s expression was a mix of annoyed and disappointed, while Blackberry just looked curious. Cash, previously amused, now looked just as confused as Blackberry. Edge maintained his blank façade, not allowing either his confusion or his trepidation to slip through. “Uh, sure, sweetheart,” Twist said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Soon as ya explain it ta me.”

Papyrus blinked. “WAIT. YOU DON’T—?” He looked at the other Fell-monsters. “EDGY-ME? WEALTHY-ME? DO EITHER OF YOU…?”

Cash and Edge exchanged a look, neither of them willing to admit ignorance. Finally, though, Edge shook his head, and Cash followed suit. Papyrus looked all of them over, covering his mouth. “OH DEAR,” was all he said. Then he pulled out his cell phone and started to walk outside. “EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT,” he said over his shoulder, “I NEED TO MAKE A FEW CALLS.” The door shut behind him and all the Fell monsters looked at each other.

“…so should we still make pizza?” Blackberry asked.

Edge looked at him, then looked at the ingredients spread out on the table. “I’d rather not spend my time just standing here, but you are free to do whatever you please.” With that, he started measuring out flour and water to make the dough. Blackberry joined him after only a moment.

Edge ignored the way his soul pulsed with anxiety, fixing his attention on measuring and kneading. When Twist appeared at his elbow and asked what he could do to help, Edge immediately set him to washing dishes and wiping down the counters. Without a word of protest—and wasn’t that refreshing?—Twist obeyed, going so far as to start dusting the living room when he ran out of things to do in the kitchen. Cash just sat at the counter, playing solitaire. Papyrus only reappeared briefly to tell them that he was very sorry, but he needed to speak to the Alphys-es and the Undynes. And perhaps the kings and queens. He swore he’d be back later, though. There was something he needed to speak to all the Fell-verse monsters about when he had more information.

Blackberry waved hesitantly as he left, but Edge just focused on the dough under his hands, kneading with more force than was maybe necessary. When the dough was set aside to rise, he and Blackberry started working on dessert. His first suggestion—apple pie—elicited a strange reaction. Blackberry hesitated, eyelights fading out, but Cash raised his head and said, “no apples.”

In other circumstances, Edge might have raised a brow-bone and let it go. But his soul was twisting and churning. He was itching for a fight, for something to push back against. Cash’s commanding tone provided the perfect outlet. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Cash’s sockets narrowed. “too bad. i’m telling you—no apples.”

“And why, may I ask, is that?” he asked. His clipped tone belied the polite phrasing.

“because i said so—“

“Papy doesn’t like them,” Blackberry said, giving Cash a Look. Blackberry might look sweet and cute, but he could recognize a brewing fight when it was taking place right in front of him.

Still glaring at Cash, Edge said, “Then he doesn’t have to eat it. We’re going to have more than one dessert option—and he doesn’t even like sweets to begin with. I see no reason why—“

“you don’t need to know the reason,” Cash snapped.

Sockets narrowed, Edge took a step toward him, but Blackberry got between them, holding up his hands. “The smell makes him nauseous,” he said, looking at Edge. “This is his home too,” he said, speaking slowly, “and apple pie is very fragrant while it’s baking. It wouldn’t be fair to do that to him. Why don’t we make a fruit tart instead? Blueberries and strawberries are in season now, I think.”

Edge blinked, looking down at Blackberry. Only then did he realize how ridiculous he was being. He was allowing stress and anxiety to dictate his reactions, and he was taking it out on Cash. Not that Cash wasn’t making it easy for him. “You should have said so in the first place.”

Not looking up from the cards, Cash said pointedly, “wasn’t aware we owed you an explanation, edgelord.”

Edge took a deep breath, his hand clenching into a fist. Cash refused to meet his gaze, though he could likely feel his sins crawling on his back. Instead, he made a point of shifting through the deck of cards, searching for a king. Blackberry, again, took it upon himself to diffuse the situation. “Cash, why don’t you go to the store and get some strawberries, kiwis, and whatever berries look ripe?”

Cash didn’t look up from the cards. He laid down a king and an ace. Then resumed his search through the deck. “you can’t do it because…?”

Sighing, Blackberry said, “Because Edge and I will be cooking, and Papy can’t drive.” Edge snorted. That wasn’t quite how he would have chosen to phrase that. ‘Isn’t allowed to drive’ would have been far more accurate. “Please? Would you help?”

Cash finished laying down another pair of cards. Then he set the deck aside and stretched. “fine.” Turning his head, he shouted, “twist!” Twist poked his head out of the guest bathroom, where he’d been cleaning.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“grab your shit. we’re going to the store.”

Twist raised a brow-bone, then shrugged and stripped the latex gloves off. “Alright.” He eyed his brother and Edge, surveying them. He paused, meeting his brother’s gaze. Blackberry just grinned at him, and Twist shook his head with a sigh. “Play nice while we’re gone, yeah? An’ Edge?”

“Yes?”

“Don’ drink the tea.”

Blackberry looked offended. “Papy! I would never.”

“Jus’ in case,” he said over his shoulder, pulling a jacket on. As soon as he shut the door, Edge looked down at Blackberry, brow-bone raised.

“…what’s wrong with the tea?”

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong with the tea!” But a warm blue flush colored Blackberry’s cheekbones, belying his words. Edge sighed and shook his head, vowing to keep a closer eye on Blackberry while he was cooking. They worked companionably enough after that, though there was a lingering tension in the air that was impossible to ignore. With time, the knots in Edge’s soul started to uncoil, but they only returned, tighter than ever, when his brother arrived.

The normally laid back skeleton still seemed relaxed and at ease, but Edge knew him better than anyone else. He knew his brother’s hands—stuffed into his jacket pockets—were curled into fists, and there was nothing casual about Red’s casual perusal of the living room. He hopped up on one of the bar stools, raising a brow-bone when he saw the cards. Without a thought, he started reorganizing them, likely ensuring that Cash would be able to get pretty far into the game, but wouldn’t be able to beat it without cheating. Were it someone else, Edge might have chastised him, but in this case, he decided that there was no harm in the prank.

While his brother reorganized the deck, he surveyed the two skeletons at work in the kitchen. “where’s the pipsqueak?” he asked.

“In heat, apparently,” Edge said, eyeing his brother carefully. He hadn’t forgotten Papyrus’ surprise that Twist—the only older brother in the house—hadn’t known about heat cycles. While he didn’t think Red would withhold vital information from him, he did know that he and Red didn’t always agree on what was and was not ‘vital information’.

Red raised a brow-bone. “’s that what’s got the creampuff all wound up?”

Edge and Blackberry exchanged a look before they went back to rolling out the dough for the tart. “You know was much as we do at this point,” Blackberry said. “Are you hungry? Do you want any snacks or something to drink?”

“Don’t ask for tea, apparently,” Edge said, earning a glare from Blackberry.

“There’s nothing wrong with the tea!”

Red tugged on his collar, then asked for soda. When he was finished rearranging the deck of cards, he went over and flopped onto the couch, earning the admonishment to take his shoes off. After that, the others started to trickle in. Slim piled onto the couch with Red. Cash and Twist returned in short order, and Twist set the fresh fruit on the counter like an offering, talking excitedly about nothing. It eased a little of the tension in the room, particularly when he picked Slim up off the couch so that he could lay down, explaining, “Didn’ wanna squish ya, sweetheart,” before pulling Slim on top of him.

Red snorted and started teasing them, but Twist just flipped him off and cuddled Slim close. Slim, for his part, relaxed into the hold and started purring in minutes. Cash sat at the bar again, returning to his solitaire, though he kept a wary eye on the trio in the living room. Sans and Razz arrived together—they seemed nearly inseparable since they started dating, and that had only gotten worse when they moved in together—and Sans joined Cash at the breakfast bar, while Razz hovered in the doorway, watching both Blackberry and Edge as they worked.

He didn’t offer to help, but he watched them carefully, asking pointed questions. Edge left Razz-management to Blackberry. He and Cash both fixed on Sans—the only Tale-verse monster in the room. Edge stood at the counter and started cleaning and slicing the strawberries and kiwis. “So, short-stuff,” Edge started slowly, “do you know what’s wrong with Blue?” He kept his voice down, not wanting the other Fell monsters to focus in on them. Blackberry perked up, but he maintained his eager smile and continued to keep Razz occupied.

Sans was not a stupid monster, though. He definitely noticed Edge and Cash’s scrutiny. “uh…papyrus asked me to wait until everyone got here to start explaining things.”

Edge and Cash exchanged a look, and Cash leaned on the counter, pulling out a coin to start playing with it. “yeah?” he asked, catching Sans’ eyelight. Edge immediately looked away, keeping his gaze focused on the fruit under his hands.

“uh, yeah?”

“interesting. why’s that, do you think?” Cash asked, his tone casual, even friendly. Which should have been a red flag—Cash didn’t really do friendly unless he wanted something.

“he, uh, he said something about needing visual aids.”

The coin dropped from Cash’s fingers. “why the fuck would he need—?”

“Language!” Blackberry and Twist both said automatically.

Cash turned on the stool to glare at Twist. “you swear all the time!”

“We’re in mixed company, asshat.”

“Papy!”

“Whoops! Sorry, bro.”

Sans, however, raised a brow-bone. “…mixed-company?”

Blackberry looked up at him. “Yeah. I mean. You’re Tale-verse, right? We should at least try to clean up our language for you.”

Sans opened his mouth. Shut it. Furrowed his brows. Then finally just gave up and shrugged. “sure, kiddo. why the fuck not?”

Blackberry’s sockets went wide, and he blushed a deep blue, while Razz snickered at his discomfort. Muttering something under his breath, Blackberry finished rolling out the last pizza. He set them all in the oven to bake before starting to work on the toppings. He asked for requests, and that’s how they ended up making one with everything, another that was just cheese, a third with pepperoni and mushrooms, and the last was divided down the middle, one half loaded with vegetables and the other half layered with ham and pineapple.

By the time the pizzas were going back into the oven to melt the cheese and soften the vegetables, Papyrus had returned, dragging Rus along behind him. In other circumstances, Edge might have considered cornering his boyfriend and prying the information out of him, but Papyrus and Rus were both wheeling what appeared to be a giant blackboard into the house.

He blinked, watching them push the thing through the carpet and set it in front of the couch. How did they even…? Where did they find it? How did they get it here? Why did they need it?

Edge just took a deep breath and returned to cooking, determined to keep his hands busy. At some point, Rus came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Edge’s waist and resting his chin on Edge’s shoulder. “how’re things, precious?” he murmured against Edge’s acoustic meatus, earning a soft flush. Normally, Edge didn’t like pet names or endearments. They carried some…unpleasant memories. But whenever Rus called him ‘precious’, his soul warmed. Perhaps because he really did feel precious in Rus’ arms.

He swallowed down the sentiment, locking it away. “I’m more than a little curious about the blackboard,” he said, drying his hands on a dishtowel. “Care to share?”

Rus winced, noticing the tension in Edge’s bones. “it’s nothing bad,” he said, squeezing him. “papyrus just wanted to make sure we were able to explain things as thoroughly as possible. but i just….” He pulled back slightly to look at Edge. “you’ve really never gone into heat?”

“No. Should I have?”

Rus looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t answer, and that only caused Edge’s anxiety to ratchet higher. Was there something wrong with him? With all of them? Or maybe there was something wrong with the Tale-verse monsters? Rus noticed his sudden tension immediately. “hey, hey. it’s okay. just give papyrus a few minutes to set things up, and we’ll explain everything. promise.” He kissed Edge’s cheekbone, and Edge allowed his sockets to slide shut. He laid his hands overtop Rus’, lacing their fingers together. He allowed his breathing to sync to Rus’, and his body relaxed.

He raised Rus’ hand and kissed the knuckles. “Thank you,” he murmured, “Now get the fuck out or start washing dishes, you lazy-ass.”

Rus snickered and surprised him by picking up a sponge and starting help with the dishes. Edge dried the clean dishes when he was finished with them, unable to withhold a smile when Rus knocked his hips into Edge’s. Blackberry chastised them both when they started to get a little too enthusiastic, sounding tired. Cash, glaring at the cards spread out before him, snapped, “keep the cutesy shit to yourselves. you’re spoiling my appetite.”

Edge turned, about to snap back, but Twist appeared behind him, his grin shark-like. Winking for Edge’s benefit, he leaned down and spoke into Cash’s acoustic meatus. “Sounds like someone’s a little jealous. ‘s matter, sweetheart? Feelin’ bonely?”

Cash sputtered, “no!” Then he protested violently when Twist just picked him up and carried him over to the couch.

“Don’ worry, darlin’. We’ll fix that.” He plunked Cash down on the couch, right beside Slim, who covered his mouth to conceal his grin. He could not hide the flush of violet across his cheekbones, however. Cash’s working socket went wide, and he froze, apparently unsure what to do with himself—especially when Twist sat on his other side, sandwiching him between himself and Slim. “There now. Tha’s better, right?”

“this isn’t—i didn’t—“

But Slim laid a hand on his shoulder and asked, voice soft, “is this okay?”

Cash looked between the two of them and huffed, stiffly leaning against the back of the couch with his arms crossed. “twisted, i’m gonna smother you in your sleep.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

Papyrus, busy drawing on the other side of the board, peered around the edge. “TWISTED-ME AND WEALTHY-ME, PLEASE KEEP YOUR BEDROOM ACTIVITIES TO YOURSELVES.”

“oh, please,” Cash snapped, “as if i’d stick my dick in that.”

Red snorted. “guess we know who tops, then.”

Cash sat forward, glaring at Red, who just shot him a pair of finger-guns. Rus covered his mouth, trying to withhold his laughter. Edge sighed and look skyward, wondering how long before he’d need to rescue the runt from Cash.

Before anything could escalate further, Papyrus announced, “FINISHED! NOW, SHALL WE EAT FIRST? OR—?”

Edge, Blackberry, and Razz spoke overtop each other. “We can eat later, I want to know—“

“—prefer to know what’s going on first, if—“

“I believe this heat cycle business is more pressing than dinner, don’t you?”

The less energetic skeletons didn’t seem to care either way, though Red did mutter, “food’s gonna get cold….”

Twist stretched his legs out in front of him and threw his arm over the back of the couch. “Go on, sweetheart. Say yer piece.”

Ushering Rus out of the kitchen, Edge glanced at Twist, noting for the first time that his eyelight was sharp and hyper-focused, and despite his relaxed posture, his fingers were stiff and tense, digging into the back of the couch. Edge wasn’t the only one ill at ease, then. The revelation was oddly comforting.

Everyone tried to arrange themselves comfortably, which inevitably ended poorly. Blackberry sat on the couch’s armrest beside his brother, while Sans and Razz sat on the floor—the latter rather disgruntled about this, while the former didn’t seem to mind. Until Red propped his feet up on Sans’ head, at least. Sighing, Edge snapped at his brother, ordering him to mind himself. Rus just shook his head, amused, and guided Edge to the breakfast bar. Edge squeezed his hand in thanks—he hadn’t been looking forward to finding a place on the couch and had resigned himself to standing. They wouldn’t have the best view of the blackboard, but he could certainly see it well enough.

Papyrus surveyed them, hands folded neatly. “OKAY. AFTER SPEAKING TO SOME OF THE FELL SCIENTISTS AND RULERS, IT’S BECOME CLEAR THAT, UM, LIVING IN SUCH VIOLENT WORLDS HAS AFFECTED ALL OF YOU MORE THAN WE’D PREVIOUSLY REALIZED.” He took a deep breath and flipped the board, revealing several detailed diagrams and notes.

He started by explaining that going into heat referred to a natural part of a monster’s reproductive cycle, not entirely unlike the estrus cycle of a lot of mammalian species, though there were some very key differences. “THIS ISN’T REALLY ABOUT REPRODUCTION,” he said. Which was obvious. All parties involved in a relationship needed to infuse their magic with Intent to make a new soulling. “NOT IN THE SAME WAY, AT LEAST. IT IS ABOUT FORGING BONDS AND STABILIZING RELATIONSHIPS, THOUGH—A WAY OF PREPARING A COUPLE OR POLY DYNAMIC FOR THE POSSIBILITY OF A CHILD.”

“creampuff, can we speed this up a bit? ‘m gettin’ peckish.”

“I WANT TO BE AS THOROUGH AS POSSIBLE, CHERRY, AND THIS WILL GO MUCH FASTER WITHOUT INTERRUPTIONS.”

Razz and Sans both snickered at the chastisement. “looks like you just got schooled, cherry-pie.”

“fuck off!” Red said, kicking the back of Sans’ head. Before things could devolve any further, Twist crawled across Cash and Slim—earning a protest from Cash and muffled laughter from Slim—and scooped Red into his lap. “hey!”

“What? Jus’ gettin’ comfortable, sweetheart.”

“twist, if you don’t get your feet off my lap, you’re going to lose them,” Cash said, picking Twist’s leg up by his jeans. He grimaced when Blackberry slid off the arm of the couch and into his brother’s vacated spot, but Blackberry just smiled up at him, apparently unaffected when Cash made a point of scooting away from him.

CRACK! They all flinched and looked back to Papyrus, who smiled sweetly. “AS I WAS SAYING….” He turned back to the board, ignoring the dusty handprint left behind from where he’d slapped the chalkboard. “IT SEEMS THAT FELL MONSTERS STOPPED CYCLING SHORTLY AFTER THINGS BEGAN TO…WORSEN. UNDERGROUND.” His eyelights dipped down, over-bright and sorrowful. “TALE-VERSE MONSTER EXPERIENCED SOMETHING SIMILAR, THOUGH NOT AS SEVERE.” Edge leaned forward, gaze fixed on Papyrus and the blackboard. Even Red, Twist, and Cash grew more sober as Papyrus continued to talk.

As it turned out, none of the Fell monsters knew what ‘going into heat’ meant. Not just the Fell skeletons either. The royal scientists had to do some research on the subject before they made much headway. Older bits of Fell texts referenced monster mating cycles, but after they’d been locked underground, their cycles had faded out until they stopped entirely. Enough time had passed for the knowledge to fade into myth.

The Tale-verse monsters had never stopped cycling, though theirs had slowed significantly. Being on the surface, where everyone was safe and hope came easier, had kick-started their cycles again, and they were coming with greater frequency. It was, really, only a matter of time before the Fell monsters began to experience the same thing. Especially since they were all living in the same universe now and in relatively close proximity to one another. Right now, the Alphys-es, the Undynes, and rulers were all discussing how they should address the matter.

“Nice hist’ry lesson,” Twist said, one arm still looped around Red and feet still attached, despite Cash’s threat. “But ya still haven’t told us what a heat is, exactly.”

Papyrus sighed and looked at Sans and Rus. Edge’s anxiety spiked, but Rus squeezed his hand comfortingly. “don’t worry, edgelord,” he said, for Edge’s ears only, “everything’s fine. it’s not a big deal.”

“WELL.” Papyrus twiddled his thumbs. “ALPHYS HAD A VERY SCIENTIFIC EXPLANATION, ABOUT MAGIC FLUX AND….” He winced a little. “AND IT’S REALLY NOT THAT IMPORTANT. HERE’S WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW. GOING INTO HEAT MEANS YOU’RE GOING TO….” He hesitated for a beat too long.

“you want me to take over, pap?”

“NO! NO. I’VE GOT THIS HANDLED, BROTHER, BUT THANK YOU FOR THE OFFER.” He put his hands behind his back and straightened his spine, bouncing on his toes. “FOR ABOUT A WEEK, THOUGH THE ACTUAL LENGTH OF THE CYCLE WILL VARY FROM MONSTER TO MONSTER, YOU’LL EXPERIENCED, UH, INCREASED LIBIDO. AND….”

He looked at his feet, taking another deep breath. “AND DIFFICULTY DISMISSING YOUR SOUL. IT TYPICALLY MANIFESTS EARLY IN THE CYCLE, USUALLY ACCOMPANIED BY MANA DISCHARGE AND A MILD FEVER. YOU’LL LIKELY EXPERIENCE SOME CRAMPING, NAUSEA, WEAKNESS, AND INCREASED APPETITE. IT IS ALSO POSSIBLE—BUT RARE—TO EXPERIENCE SOME MILD DELIRIUM, BUT ALPHYS ASSURES ME THAT THIS IS STILL PERFECTLY NORMAL AND NOTHING TO BE CONCERNED ABOUT.”

Edge stared. It felt like the bottom had dropped out of his soul, like the earth had tilted under his feet. From the couch, Red squeaked. “twist! twist! you’re hurting me—“

Twist released him with a shaky apology, but his eyelight was fixed on the blackboard, sockets wide. Cash blinked and leaned against the back of the couch, shaking his head. Blackberry covered his mouth with both hands, sockets wide. Edge couldn’t see Razz from his current position, but he couldn’t imagine that he was pleased either. Slim had pulled his hood over his skull and tucked his face into the ruff, while his fingers gripped his forearm tight enough to bruise.

Rus squeezed Edge’s hand, saying, “see? not a big deal.” Edge stared at him, honestly unable to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

At the board, Papyrus looked at them, still smiling, though somewhat nervously. “DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY QUESTIONS?”

Cash just shook his head and dug his cigarettes out of his pocket. “i need a smoke.”

“WEALTHY-ME—“

The door slammed, and Papyrus winced. “ANYONE ELSE?”

All the Fell monsters started speaking at once.

Chapter Text

Papyrus held up a hand, motioning for quiet. “ONE AT A TIME, PLEASE. UM…CHERRY? WHAT’S YOUR QUESTION?”

Still sitting on Twist’s lap, Red leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “so…whaddaya do?” he asked, “when yer heat hits?” Then his cheekbones lit up, and he backtracked. “i mean. not you personally but. ya know. generally. what’re we s’pposed ta do?”

Papyrus smiled warmly. “I’M GLAD YOU ASKED, CHERRY! IT IS GENERALLY EASIEST TO MAKE ARRANGEMENTS WITH A HEAT PARTNER AHEAD OF TIME.”

Blackberry squeaked, pulling in on himself, and Twist’s head snapped up, eyelight sharp and alert. “A-a partner?” Blackberry asked. Twist set Red aside and traded spaces with Slim. He laid a protective arm over his brother and looked up at Papyrus.

“Whaddaya mean, sweetheart? Heat partner?”

Edge watched Papyrus too, though he was fairly certain he could guess the answer. “WELL….” For the first time, Papyrus’ express faltered a bit. He cleared his throat and said, “EDGY-ME, LAZY-ME, SANS, AND RASPBERRY ARE ALL FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO HAVE DATE-MATES, BUT I’M AFRAID THE REST OF US WILL NEED TO MAKE ARRANGEMENTS WITH A FRIEND.” His smile returned. “I KNOW SOME OF YOU ARE NERVOUS, AND THIS CAN SEEM…AWKWARD. OR UNCOMFORTABLE. BUT ALLOW ME TO ASSURE YOU THAT THIS IS PERFECTLY NORMAL AND NATURAL—EVEN BEAUTIFUL. WITH THE RIGHT PARTNER, IT CAN BE QUITE ENJOYABLE—“

Sans started coughing and Papyrus looked at him, brow-bone raised. “BROTHER? ARE YOU OKAY?”

Beside Edge, Rus was trying not to laugh. He glanced at Edge and winked. But Edge wasn’t amused. Not at all. Hearing Papyrus describe the process as ‘beautiful’ made his soul lurch, and seeing the Tale-verse monsters laughing and joking around was doing nothing to calm his unsteady soul. To them, it really wasn’t a big deal. It was just another facet of life. And that knowledge just caused him to curl in on himself. They wouldn’t understand his fears. They’d think he was foolish. Think he was making a big deal out of nothing. It certainly didn’t feel like ‘nothing’, though.

Twist raised his hand. “An’ what if we don’ have a partner?”

Papyrus shook his head, grinning. “TWISTED-ME, YOU ARE VERY ATTRACTIVE; YOU ARE A VERSION OF ME, AFTER ALL! I AM QUITE CERTAIN YOU WON’T HAVE ANY TROUBLE FINDING A PARTNER. IN FACT, I’M SURE SMALL—“ Slim coughed loudly, and Papyrus abruptly changed course. “—I’M SURE OF IT!” Edge idly wondered if they thought they were being subtle.

Then again, maybe they didn’t need to be subtle. Twist didn’t seem to notice the exchange. His eyelight was bright and fixed on Papyrus, staring him down. “It’s possible, though, right?” Twist asked. “Ya don’ need a partner. Right?” His arm was thrown protectively over his little brother, and he was focused and serious. More so than Edge had ever seen him outside of a fight.

Papyrus hesitated. “I SUPPOSE…. BUT SEX OR SOUL-MASSAGE—“ Edge bit down to stifle the sound that tried to escape him at that. “—OFTEN ALLEVIATES SOME OF THE LESS PLEASANT ASPECTS OF HEAT. TRYING TO GO THROUGH IT ALONE WOULD BE…VERY UNPLEASANT. AND IT’S REALLY NOT NECESSARY. IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY WORRIED ABOUT FINDING A PARTNER, ALLOW ME TO ASSURE YOU THAT MYSELF OR BLUE WOULD BE HAPPY TO ASSIST YOU OR ANYONE WITH THOSE CONCERNS.” For a moment, his gaze lingered on Red before skittering away. Coughing to clear his throat, he looked at the rest of them. “ARE THERE ANY OTHER QUESTIONS?”

Twist, again, raised a hand. “Yeah. Got one more for ya. What about our LV?”

Edge’s hand immediately tightened around Rus’ as the breath left him in a rush. He hadn’t even considered that. How could he just forget about his LV? Razz sat up taller as well, the three of them all fixing their eyelights on Papyrus.

For the first time that evening, Papyrus looked acutely uncomfortable. “WELL. WE. UM. I’M AFRAID WE DON’T KNOW, TWISTED-ME. RECORDS FROM BEFORE THE WAR DON’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT LV INTERACTING WITH A MONSTER’S HEAT CYCLE, SO…WE’RE ASSUMING THAT THERE ISN’T ANYTHING TO BE CONCERNED ABOUT. THE ROYAL SCIENTISTS ARE ALL LOOKING INTO IT. WE’LL LET YOU KNOW AS SOON AS WE HAVE MORE INFORMATION.

Twist sat against the back of the couch, posture stiff and eyelight dim. “Thanks, creampuff,” he said, voice stilted. “Helps.”

Wincing, Papyrus apparently decided to assume that was a genuine ‘thanks’ and said, “YOU’RE QUITE WELCOME. ANYONE ELSE?”

Razz asked, “When will this happen?”

“OH. UM. I’M AFRAID I DON’T KNOW THAT FOR SURE EITHER. IT’S GOING TO VARY FROM PERSON TO PERSON DEPENDING ON GENERAL HEALTH, NUTRITION, AND JUST THE NATURAL DIFFERENCES BETWEEN CYCLES. SKELETONS TYPICALLY CYCLE IN SPRING OR FALL, SO YOU SHOULD EXPECT IT SOMETIME IN THE COMING MONTHS OR MAYBE SOMETIME NEXT FALL. IT ALL DEPENDS.”

“What are the warning signs beforehand?” Edge asked.

“YOU MAY HAVE A SLIGHT FEVER THE FIRST DAY, AND YOU’LL LIKELY NOTICE SOME CRAMPING. YOU MAY ALSO FEEL MORE AMOROUS THAN USUAL. THERE ARE SOME NESTING INSTINCTS THAT MIGHT SET IN AS WELL. ONCE AGAIN, THOUGH, IT WILL VARY FROM PERSON TO PERSON.”

Edge nodded, taking that in. Very little warning, then. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like not knowing when it would hit, either. Rus just ran a soothing thumb over the back of his hand.

“ARE THERE ANY OTHER QUESTIONS? WHAT ABOUT YOU, SMALL-ME? ANY CONCERNS? NO? OKAY, THEN. ON A MORE SERIOUS NOTE, THE MONARCHS ARE WORKING WITH THE SCIENTISTS TO DRAFT UP A LETTER FOR THOSE EMPLOYED BY HUMAN AGENCIES—“ Edge barely heard him. He worked with Undyne at the embassy part-time while he went to school. He had no human employers to worry about, though he didn’t envy the others that particularly awkward conversation. “—NO ONE SHOULD LOSE THEIR JOB OVER THIS, AND IF A HUMAN EMPLOYER GIVES YOU ANY TROUBLE, PLEASE REPORT IT TO—“

While Papyrus spoke about civil rights violations, Edge’s mind whirled. A week. Laid low for an entire week—his very soul exposed for anyone to see. Furthermore, the possibility of ‘delirium’ had his soul pulsing. And the uncertainty of his LV. Would he…would he still be himself, in heat? How much would be remember? How much control would he have over his own mind and body? How—

Rus pulled him closer and asked, “what kind of pizza do you want? pap’s just about talked himself out; i’ll grab you a slice before the rest of the horde descends.” He shook his head—his soul was too unsettled to eat—but Rus raised a brow-bone. “what? you had dinner earlier?” Edge’s jaw tightened and he couldn’t help shooting a glare at Red.

“The runt needs to learn to mind his own damn business,” he muttered. Sometimes, he really wished Red had simply continued to disapprove of the relationship and leave them the fuck alone. At some point, though, he’d decided that they were too serious to ignore and started to feed Rus little tidbits. Making sure he would ‘look after’ his little brother. The fucker.

Smirking, Rus leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, fingers playing over the back of Edge’s hand. “just ‘cause he cares, precious. and i do too. what kind of pizza do you want?”

Sighing, Edge muttered, “Vegetarian. A small slice.”

Rus waggled his brow-bones as he pulled away. “coming right up.”

Recognizing that look, Edge glanced at the others—either zoned out or whispering amongst themselves as well—then hissed, “A small slice, Rus. I’m serious.” Humming, Rus walked around the counter and cut a slice that was anything but small. “Rus.”

“you don’t have to eat it all, edgelord.” Edge glanced at the others again, but now Red was watching them, and Edge could only subtly flip his boyfriend off and mouth, ‘I hate you’. Completely immune, Rus cut himself a slice of pineapple and ham pizza—the heathen—and kissed the top of his head as he sat beside him once again. Edge sighed and took the plate, looking down at the slice of pizza. At least he knew it was safe. Grumbling, he snatched up a fork and started to pick the toppings off the top, pushing them to the side.

While he dissected his pizza, Papyrus finally seemed to notice that the others were starting to drift off, absorbed in their own thoughts. “WELL, IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS OR CONCERNS, YOU CAN ALWAYS TALK TO ME OR SOMEONE AT THE EMBASSY. MY PHONE IS ALWAYS ON, AND YOU CAN CALL ME ANY TIME OF DAY OR NIGHT!”

“thanks, creampuff,” Red said, standing up to stretch. “ya did good—“

“ACTUALLY, CHERRY, I’D LIKE TO ASK YOU—“

Red flushed brilliantly and started fast-walking away. “can it wait a bit? gonna see if i can find cash an’ get ‘im up ta speed.”

“OH. UM. ALRIGHT. LATER, THEN.”

Soon, everyone was crowded into the kitchen, plating up and digging cans of soda or condiments or bottled water out of the fridge. There was talking and a low level of chatter, but no banter, no life to the conversations. All of them were absorbed in their own thoughts. Even Twist was subdued, sticking close to his brother. Papyrus tried, briefly, to get everyone interested in a board game, but he was voted down and, in the end, Sans popped a movie into the player. Edge recognized the Pixar logo, but after that, he registered almost nothing. He busied himself by cutting the pizza crust into bite-sized pieces and pushing them around his plate. He ate most of pizza, but slowly, tasting nothing but ash, the crust heavy in his mouth.

Recognizing Edge’s mood, Rus leaned over and draped an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. “you wanna take off early?” he asked.

Yes. “I should help Blackberry clean up.”

“i think he can probably manage on his own. twist and pap will be around to give him a hand anyway.”

Edge’s jaw clenched. Normally, he’d dig his heels in and insist they stay to help, but his soul was uneasy and unsettled—not helped by the fresh influx of magic still incorporating into it. “Fine,” he said, “We can go.”

Still grinning, Rus stood with a stretch. “welp. think we’re gonna head out. thanks for dinner, ‘berry.”

“O-oh!” Blackberry said, jumping up from the couch. “You’re leaving already? But—we haven’t had dessert yet!”

Tugging on his brother’s sleeve, Twist said, “Let ‘em take a plate ta go, bro.”

“That’s really not—“

“Of course, brother! Wonderful idea!” Then Blackberry darted away to prepare a plate of berry tart and brownies for them. Edge sighed. He’d tried.

Looking over at them, Twist grinned, and Edge braced himself for a lewd joke, but Twist surprised him by saying, “Do me a favor an’ make sure Cash hasn’ killed the runt, yeah?”

Edge sighed. “Killing him would require effort, and I don’t think Cash cares enough to actually try.”

“True. Runt’s pretty fast too. Not like ‘im ta miss dinner, though. Why doncha remind ‘em both we got food for ‘em, huh?”

While Blackberry returned and pressed the plate into Rus’ hands, Edge nodded and wished everyone else a good night. He thanked Papyrus for his lesson, but regretted it almost immediately. “YOU’RE WELCOME, EDGY-ME. AND NEVER FEAR—YOU’VE GOT NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. LAZY-ME WILL TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOU.” Edge’s cheekbones flushed crimson, but he kept his chin lifted.

“I’m certain you’re—“ he started, words stiff. But Rus wrapped an arm around his waist and, chin on Edge’s shoulder, nuzzled against the side of his neck. It caused all of Edge’s bones to lock into place, fighting down the urge to push him away. It was a loving gesture, he knew. Meant to be playful and teasing. He shouldn’t feel like pushing him away or running off or like he was being strangled he shouldn’t he shouldn’t he shouldn’t—

“damn right, i’ll ‘take care’ of him,” Rus purred. Sans started laughing, and Papyrus chastised him for being lewd, even as he tried to hide a smile.

For the first time in a long while, Edge felt very, very alone in his lover’s arms. But Twist and Slim and Blackberry weren’t laughing either. Their features were sober and somber and sympathetic. They understood, he realized, and just that bit of understanding allowed him to relax his shoulders and snap at Rus. “Watch it, or you’ll be ‘taking care’ of yourself for the foreseeable future.”

“aw, babe, i was kidding—“

While Rus apologized—teasingly, not realizing that Edge had, for a moment, been truly upset—the others’ well-wishes followed them out the door. Outside, the cooling air hit him just as Rus wrapped an arm around his hips. He shut his sockets briefly, grateful for the drop in temperature. He hadn’t realized how oppressive that room felt until now. Leaning into each other, the couple walked down the drive in companionable silence.

At the foot of the drive, they paused and searched for a glimpse of Cash or Red. It was Edge that first spotted the red glow of a cigarette’s cherry. He looked up at the roof, but the street was unlit, and the cigarillo only faintly illuminated Cash’s face. The rest of him was in shadow, and Edge couldn’t tell if Red was still with him. When Edge had stared longer than was polite, Cash raised the hand that held the cigarillo and his face passed into shadow. He might have been waving. He might have been telling them to piss off. Probably the latter.

Edge called out, “Where’s Red?”

“not his keeper, edgelord. in fact, i think that’s your job, isn’t it?”

Edge started to grind his teeth, but Rus squeezed his hip in warning. He pulled out his cell phone and texted Red. Thankfully, Red was still Fell enough to shoot back a quick reply. “He’s at Grillby’s, apparently.” While Edge couldn’t say he approved, he could certainly understand it. After texting Twist to tell him they were both okay, Edge flipped Cash off before turning his back and allowing Rus to escort him to his motorcycle. He ignored the sensation of being watched, ignored the awareness of an enemy at his back. Cash wasn’t an enemy. He knew that. He knew it. But he very nearly wished he was. He was keyed up and anxious. Having something to fight, something to push against would make things so much easier.

His own body was the real enemy, though, and there was no fighting that.

Shoving down his feelings, he picked up the helmet and teasingly asked, “Finally willing to let me take you for a ride?”

Rus grinned, pulling him in for a brief kiss before Edge could shove the helmet on. “edgelord, you can ride me anytime. but there’s no way in hell i’m getting on that thing with you.”

Edge snorted and secured the helmet. “Coward.”

“i only have 5 hp. what you call cowardice, i call survival instinct.”

“Fine,” he said, oddly relieved. Rus and Red and the other low-HP skeletons could be so reckless at times—he far preferred it when they were over-cautious. “See you in ten,” he said, mounting the bike.

“fifteen,” Rus scolded, “no speeding.”

For just an instant, Edge’s skeletal grin grew fierce. “What kind of guardsman do you take me for?” he teased.

Rus was less than impressed, but his grudging grin betrayed his affection. “the fell kind. drive safe, or i’m calling felldyne.”

“You and I both know she’s more likely to speed than I am.”

Rus risked touching the handgrip—very carefully, aware of how touchy Edge could get about the bike. “please?”

If he wasn’t already seated on the bike, Edge would have kissed him again. “I’ll be careful. Promise. See you at home.”

“see you, edgelord.”

He stepped back and waved one last time before disappearing into the ether. The bike revved to life and Edge took off, though he kept to his promise. The night air nipped at his bones through his heavy jacket, and he relished the sensation, treasured the freedom of the empty streets. It cleared his head and settled his soul, but as he pulled his bike into their garage, the levity of the last few minutes faded. He parked the bike and just stood in the garage for a few minutes, soul pulsing.

He was being foolish. Stupid. Ridiculous. This was a perfectly normal, natural part of life. He just. Needed to ignore his concerns. None of the Tale-verse monsters were bothered. And if they weren’t bothered, then he shouldn’t be either. He was fine. Perfectly fine. Nothing was wrong—not with him. Not with Rus or any of the others. He was—

His hands were shaking. He shut his sockets and let out a slow breath, closing his hands into fists until the shaking was unnoticeable. Mouth dry, he pushed open the door and stepped into their living room. The condo was small, but it was theirs, even if neither of them were completely unpacked yet. He set his shoes beside the door, hung up his jacket, and crossed the threshold, bare toes clicking against the wooden floors.

He could hear the water running as Rus showered upstairs, and…Edge didn’t know what to do with himself. For the first time in nearly a decade, his fingers twitched with the need for a cigarette. Swallowing, he ran a thumb over his phalange, feeling the distinct ridges where the bone had been broken and healed. Undyne had no patience for the habit and had been brutal in breaking him of it. It would be a shame to undo her hard work.

Instead of pilfering a cigarette from Rus, he stepped into the kitchen and took the clean dishes out of the cabinet. He filled the sink with warm water and started to rinse them off. The hot water seared his bones, and he focused on that, focused on the feel of the sponge between his fingers, and the slide of soap between his joints.

The stair creaked, and he turned slightly, verifying that it was Rus at his back. Already dressed for bed, the other skeleton came up behind him and draped his arms over Edge’s shoulders. He looked past Edge’s shoulder, watching his hands as he worked. For a while, neither of them spoke, then Rus said, “you’re really upset about this whole thing, aren’t you?”

Edge took a breath and set his hands on the rim of the sink, gripping it so hard he was afraid he’d dent the steel. He swallowed hard, unable to answer. Rus knew, though. He understood. Nuzzling into Edge’s cervical vertebrae, he wrapped his arms around Edge’s chest, holding him tight. “i promise, it’s really not a big deal.” It felt like bands were closing around his soul. “pap made it sound really clinical, but it’s not like that.”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat—which should have been impossible skeletons didn’t even have throats—Edge asked, “What is it like, then? Why don’t you explain to me?”

Rus hummed quietly as he considered. “it’s….” He ran his hands up Edge’s ribcage, fingers meeting on his sternum. “you feel hot and sore. a little like being sick only…not. there’s…there’s this moment when you know things’ll either get real nice or real bad, real fast. soon as someone puts their hands on you, though, the scales tip and you feel incredible. like you can’t get enough of them. like you’ll fall apart at the slightest touch. it’s good, precious. real good.” He kissed the back of Edge’s neck. “i’m, uh, i’m actually looking forward to it,” he confessed.

It felt like his soul was in free-fall. “You’re—?” He choked, but Rus hugged him close, a low, rumbling purr vibrating his bones.

“yeah. i am. i know you’ll look after me when my heat hits. i trust you to take care of me and…i hope you trust me to look after you too.”

Edge didn’t want to be looked after. He didn’t want to have his defenses stripped away and his very soul laid bare. Not even with Rus. “I trust you,” he said, and while the words weren’t a lie, they weren’t the whole truth either. He trusted Rus, but he didn’t like being forced to rely on him. How many years, training in the guard? Mastering his magic? His mind? His body? Underground, he’d been famed for his nearly supernatural control. Biology be damned—shouldn’t he be allowed a say in this? Shouldn’t he have the choice?

Throat tight, he nonetheless leaned into Rus, allowing him to hold him up. Rus just held him, still purring faintly. The gentle swaying he affected was soothing, and Edge’s sockets soon slipped closed, their breathing synced. “come upstairs, precious,” Rus said against the side of his skull.

“Let me finish this first.” Rus, thankfully, didn’t point out that he was rinsing off perfectly clean dishes. But he stayed, arms looped around Edge’s ribs or hips. His mouth rarely left Edge’s neck, his collarbone, or his scapula. His fingers ran in soothing fingers over Edge’s hipbones and lightly scratched between his ribs. They talked and teased and…it helped. By the time Edge was finished with the dishes, he was more than happy to sweep his boyfriend off his feet and carry him upstairs, teasingly chastising him for his wandering hands.

They stripped down, and Rus laid him on the bed. Their lovemaking was unhurried and gentle. After, Rus pulled him close and nuzzled into him. “love you, precious.”

The words were still hard to say. It still felt like he was exposing a weak spot. Still felt like the world would snatch Rus away from him, simply because he wanted this so much, because his love ran so deep. So he raised Rus’ hand to his mouth and kissed the metatarsals, squeezing tight. Hoping to convey the intensity of his feelings, even if he couldn’t verbalize them. “You too.”

Rus hummed happily and settled against him, asleep in minutes. Edge laced their fingers together, trying to enjoy the afterglow. However, now that his mind was no longer occupied with the gentle touches and playful teasing, he soon found himself once more thinking about his looming heat. The tight knot settled in his soul once more, and he curled closer, trying to take comfort from his lover’s presence, his reassurances. But he kept circling back to Papyrus’ clinical recitation of the symptoms, back to Twist’s concerns about LV, back to Rus’ soft confession that he was actually looking forward to it. So now Edge had to worry about disappointing him in addition to everything else.

Needless to say, he didn’t sleep much that night.

Chapter Text

Sans and Razz left soon after Edge and Rus. Razz was oddly quiet, but Twist knew better than to try to crack that particular nut. Better to leave him to Sans, if he wanted to keep all his extremities. Red and Cash never returned, so that just left Slim and Papyrus. Normally Twist would be happy to host them—Slim was always welcome, and Papyrus could be quick-witted and clever when he wanted to be—but he was hyper-aware of the figure hunched at his side.

Blackberry wasn’t watching the movie. He put up a good front while he was up and about, serving dessert and making sure his guests were looked after, but as soon as his hands were free, his body went tense and his starry eyelights grew distant and unfocused. Twist very much wanted the others to leave so he could look after his little bro. Thankfully, the movie was just about over. Slim was ready to go—and stars, how was he taking all this anyway? Twist would have to worry about him later, though; the people under his protection came first, then he could start worrying about everyone else—but Papyrus was looking at them, and Twist didn’t like the glimmer in his eyelights.

“I HOPE I ANSWERED ALL YOUR QUESTIONS, TWISTED-ME.”

“Yep. Sure did.” Papyrus opened his mouth, and Twist pretended not to notice, barreling forward. “Hey, Slim? Think ya could help Pretty-me haul this thing out ‘a our livin’ room?” He jerked a thumb at the blackboard, smirking when Papyrus blinked and flushed at being called ‘pretty’. Good. The creampuff would be easier to manage if he was flustered and off-balance.

“sure,” Slim said, popping a sucker into his mouth.

Twist grinned, knuckling the top of his little brother’s head. “Thanks fer coming. Always nice ta host movie night, right bro?” Blackberry shoved his hand away, glaring at him. He smiled at the others, though.

“Yes, we’re always happy to have you. Take some brownies before you go, too. There are plenty. Oh! Slim, do you need more—?” Slim shook his head. “Okay. Let me know if you need a refill.”

Papyrus looked between them. “I SUPPOSE IT IS GETTING RATHER LATE, ISN’T IT? WELL, WE’LL GET OUT OF YOUR HAIR, THEN. SLEEP WELL!”

Twist’s expression grew briefly brittle at the mention of sleep—lying alone in bed tonight was going to be an absolute nightmare dear stars—but he forced the thought away. “You too, darlin’. Night!” Slim took Papyrus’ hand and laid another hand on the blackboard. They teleported to the embassy, and Twist let out a sigh of relief. He turned to his brother, but Blackberry was already starting to gather up plates and forks and cups. “Bro, ya need any help with—“

“Nope!” he said, cheerfully. “I’ve got it handled, brother.”

He scurried into the kitchen, and Twist leaned on the counter, watching his brother fill the sink with hot water and soap. He eyed the dishwasher, but Blackberry took up a pair of rubber gloves and started to wash them by hand, scrubbing forcefully at the plates. “Ya sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“I could help ya load up the dishwasher.”

Blackberry continued to scrub at the same plate. “I’ve got it handled, Papy. Besides, these need to be pre-washed.”

He nodded once. “I could help ya dry—“

“Why don’t you go find Cash? I don’t think he’s eaten yet. What kind of pizza does he like? We’ve got a few slices of ham and pineapple, but I’m not sure he’s—“

Twist scrubbed a hand over his face while Blackberry babbled. “Sans.” He fell silent, clutching the plate too tightly. “C’mon, bro. We gotta talk about this. Whaddaya wanna do when yer heat hits?”

Blackberry dropped the plate back into the water and marched over to the pantry. “I think you need tea.”

Twist sighed. “Bro—“

“You were obviously upset by the…the revelations. This. This evening. We both know how agitated you can get when you’re upset. So. Tea. It is clearly—“

Coming up behind him, Twist held the cabinet closed and looked down at his brother. Blackberry was shaking, his starry eyelights wavering. “We can’t just ignore this, darlin’,” Twist said softly, “The creampuff’s right. We need ta plan ahead. So? Whaddaya wanna—“ He cut himself off when Blackberry started crying. He flinched, worried that he’d pushed too far, too soon. “Aw, shit. ‘m sorry, bro.” He knelt down and folded his arms around his brother. “Didn’ mean ta upset ya.” Blackberry buried his face in Twist’s chest, sniffing as tears started to roll down his cheekbones. Twist ran a hand up and down his spine and scratched along his coronal suture, murmuring soothingly—at least, he hoped it was soothing.

Obviously, they weren’t going to get anywhere tonight. He scooped Blackberry up and carried him out of the kitchen. He started to struggle immediately. “The dishes!”

“Think I can manage on my own, yeah? Hell, might even get Patches ta help.”

Blackberry snorted. “Bet you can’t,” he said, voice still thick from crying.

Smirking, Twist pulled back to look his brother in the socket. “Yeah? What’re the stakes?”

Eyelights gleaming, Blackberry said, “If you can’t, then you have to do the dishes for a week.”

Twist nodded. “An’ if I do convince ‘im, then ya gotta use the healthy recipes book I got fer ya.”

“For a week?!” Blackberry asked, and Twist nodded, smug. “Papy,” he whined, “That food is so tasteless and boring.”

“Little less butter ain’t gonna kill ya, bro.”

Blackberry groaned. “Fine, but you have to do the vacuuming too.”

“Sounds fair,” Twist said, chuckling. Down the hall, he shouldered open Blackberry’s door and set him down. “Change yer clothes. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Blackberry sniffed, cheekbones still damp. He dug through his drawers to find a pair of comfortable pajamas, and Twist left him to it. Downstairs, he put the kettle on the stove. While he waited for the water to boil, he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and one of the small bags of loose-leaf tea Blackberry kept in the pantry. Not his special tea—the kind that tasted like dirt and left him muzzy and heavy-limbed, reserved for those moments he couldn’t be trusted to manage his LV on his own. Blackberry only needed something to help him relax. The chamomile and lavender tea would serve, he thought, measuring it out into an infuser. A little honey to sweeten it wouldn’t hurt either.

The kettle whistled and he poured the water into the mug, stirring it so the honey would dissolve. Mug in one hand, he paused at the shelf to select a book, then made his way back up to his little brother’s room. He knocked, and Blackberry said he was decent. The room smelled of lavender, Blackberry’s carpals shining with oil. He was tucked into bed, the stars in his sockets starting to relax into simple circles. Twist scrubbed the top of his head, smirking when Blackberry protested. He set the mug on the bedside table, then settled on the floor beside the bed, back against the mattress. “Ya ‘member where we left off, right?”

Blackberry nodded. It had been awhile since they’d needed to perform this particular ritual, but Twist found the page without comment and started reading. He tried to keep his voice steady and mellow, though he fumbled over a few of the more complex words. He and Blackberry shared an interest in chemistry, even if he was more interested in the things that went ‘boom’ while Blackberry was more interested in toxicology. His vocabulary hadn’t quite caught up with his interests yet, but he was making the effort.

Blackberry listened quietly, sipping his tea and occasionally commenting on a passage. Then, unexpectedly, he asked, “What’re you gonna do, Papy? When….”

Twist shut his sockets and shut the book, marking the page. If he wasn’t certain it’d drive him completely crazy, he’d lock himself in a closet when his heat hit. What if he hurt someone? What if he lost control of himself? What if his LV started acting up? Would he still be himself, during heat? Or would this be the thing that finally made him lose it completely? “Ya heard the creampuff, didn’ ya? I ain’t gonna have any trouble findin’ a partner, bro.”

Blackberry made a disapproving sound. “…are you going to sleep with Cash?”

Rubbing at the space between his brow-bones, Twist flinched. “Uh…. Dunno why you’d think that.”

“I’m not stupid, Papy. I see the way he leers at you.”

He exhaled hard. “Sans….”

“He’s going to take advantage of this. He’s going to take advantage of you.” More quietly, he said, “And you’re going to let him. You always do.”

Twist rested his forehead in his hands. “Sans…it ain’t…it ain’t like that.”

“You let her—“

He took a sharp breath, his soul knotting in a mix of rage and pain. “I think tha’s more’n enough fer tanight, little bro.” He stood up, taking the empty mug from his brother’s hands. “Think yer settled ‘nough ta sleep?”

Blackberry caught his hand. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t let him hurt you like that. Please, Papy. Please.”

Laying a hand on top of Blackberry’s head, Twist leaned down to look him in the socket. “Sans. I told ya b’fore. It…it ain’t always a bad thing. Sex—“ Blackberry jerked away, disturbed at just the mention. Twist closed his sockets, not sure how to talk to his brother when he wasn’t willing to listen. “It c’n be a good thing. If two people—er more; who the fuck am I ta judge?—wan’ each other like that, then it c’n be good. Real good. Cash ain’t…Cash ain’t like Muffet, okay? He ain’t exactly a saint—an’ le’s be honest, neither’m I. But he ain’t a rapist, right? You got that?”

Blackberry wasn’t listening. He was hunched in on himself and staring at the far wall. “Promise me you won’t let him hurt you,” he said again, totally blocking out everything Twist had just said.

Twist sighed. “Fine. Promise I won’ let ‘im hurt me.” He caught Blackberry’s chin and forced him to meet his gaze. “But jus’ remember tha’ you an’ I got two diff’rent definitions ‘a ‘hurt’. Now you gotta promise me ya ain’t gonna poison ‘im if he pisses ya off.”

Blackberry bristled. “If you won’t protect yourself—“

“Sans,” he said, voice firm. Blackberry huffed and looked away.

“Fine. I promise I won’t poison him.”

“Good.”

He stood up straight, looking down at his brother’s hunched form. He had no idea what to say, no idea how to help. “G’night, bro,” he said, rubbing a thumb over Blackberry’s forehead to smooth it out. “Sleep well, yeah?”

“You too.” Blackberry hunkered down, drawing the blankets up protectively.

Outside his room, Twist leaned against the shut door and rubbed his forehead. His soul ached. Blackberry had trouble just talking or thinking about sex in a normal context—having something like heat thrown at him was too much. He’d never wanted or asked for any of this and no matter that he claimed no one had touched him like that while he’d been kept as a sweet-piece, Twist had his doubts. Anger knotted in Twist’s soul. His brother should not be forced to suffer either pain or what felt too much like rape for his comfort. It seemed so unfair.

His mouth quirked in a bitter smile. When had life ever been ‘fair’, though, right?

Swallowing hard, he went downstairs to finish washing the dishes. He didn’t bother trying to convince Cash to help. He’d be happy to do the dishes for a week or more—Blackberry took on all the household chores with a kind of possessive zeal that just didn’t seem healthy. Twist wanted to help, but Blackberry wouldn’t always permit it. This seemed like a good way to force his hand.

When he finished, he dried his hands and went to go find Cash. He wasn’t in his room, wasn’t in the backyard. Not out front either. With a sigh, Twist marched out to the hall and pulled down the stairs to the attic. He’d refitted it to serve as a third bedroom—his own. Boxes and shelves were haphazardly scattered around the room in a chaotic jumble. He kept telling himself he’d eventually finish unpacking, but he kept getting distracted. He knew where everything was anyway—well, mostly—so it wasn’t exactly high on his list of priorities.

Walking over to the attic window, he pried it open and pulled out the screen. Hooking his hands over the eave, he swung up onto the roof, grateful that skeletons didn’t actually weigh all that much. As he’d thought, Cash was sitting on the roof, smoking. Twist navigated the tiles carefully before plopping down beside the other monster. Cash didn’t even glance at him, but his jaw tightened in irritation.

“Heya, sweetheart,” Twist said, laying down so he could look up at the sky. “Nice night fer stargazin’, yeah?”

“fuck off.”

“Wha’s that? Ya don’ know how ta find the North Star? Here, lemme help. Ya jus’—“

Cash groaned. “what do you want, twist?”

“Wanted ta make sure Red got ya all caught up. Creampuff had some valu’ble facts ta share after ya left.”

“he did. now go away.”

“Hmm? But it’s such a nice night out. Maybe I wanna enjoy the stars, darlin’—ya can’t kick me off my own roof, now can ya?”

“you don’t think so? bend over.”

Twist guffawed, delighted. “Nice one, darlin’.” Cash just grunted…but one corner of his mouth was slightly upturned. And everyone thought the grumpy-bones didn’t have a sense of humor. Settling against the roof, Twist directed his gaze upward, trying to ignore the growing urge to reach into his own pocket and draw out the cigarettes he kept on hand. Instead, he took a coin between his fingers and practiced palming it and playing it over his fingers. “So,” he began slowly, “what’re yer plans?”

“for what?”

“Fer yer heat.”

Cash snorted, taking a long drag on his cigarillo. “why? you offering to help?”

The coin fumbled but he caught it, hiding it up his sleeve. “You askin’?” he countered, ignoring the mix of panic and desire that flared up.

Grinding his teeth, Cash looked resolutely ahead. “if i was?”

Twist looked up at the constellations, tracing them with his gaze. He worked the coin out of his sleeve and practiced palming it, allowing the edges to bite into his metatarsals. Could he help him, when Cash went into heat? Would he be able to stand it, fucking someone that might not be fully aware, that wouldn’t necessarily want him when their mind was clear? Alternatively, could he refuse, knowing that Cash didn’t trust easily, knowing that he’d be leaving him to a week of pain otherwise?

Closing his hand tight around the coin—he didn’t need a cigarette; he didn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t he was trying to quit damn it—Twist said, “If ya asked, I’d say yes.”

Cash exhaled, smoke curling from his mouth and nasal aperture. “i’ll keep that in mind. in case i decide to ask.”

Twist laughed, something in his chest loosening. “Sounds good, darlin’.”

“…you talked to slim yet?”

“Next on my list,” Twist said, again bouncing the coin over his fingers.

For the first time, Cash turned to glare at him, his expression annoyed and accusatory. “he should have been first.”

Slowly, Twist turned to eye him, closing his hand around the coin. Flexing his fingers, he made it disappear into his sleeve once more, then he sat up and leaned into him, socket-to-socket. “I ain’t the only one with a phone, darlin’. Yer so worried, you should call ‘im yerself.” Cash didn’t reply, just glared at him. They didn’t move for a few heartbeats, then Twist pulled away, confident he’d made his point. Cash eyed his cigarillo. It was almost spent. After taking one last drag, he ground it out against the tile. “You gonna head in?”

Cash glanced at him one more time. “yeah. why?”

“Hopin’ I might catch a ride with ya. Yer shortcuts’re faster’n mine.”

Cash nodded. “yeah. guess it’s a pretty long drop from up here.”

Twist waved him off. “I go in through the attic window. Still a bitch, though.”

“bet it is,” Cash said, nodding. Then with a deliberate look, he teleported away, leaving Twist alone on the roof. Twist shook his head, chuckling to himself. He leaned back against the tiles and sighed, looking up at the stars. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate them, a moment to appreciate actually being here, on the surface, free and clear. Whatever new challenges being on the surface might’ve brought, he would always be grateful for that, at least.

He dug a hand into his pocket, reaching for his phone. Just as he was pulling up his contact list, however, it rang. Brow-bone raised, he brought it to his acoustic meatus and said, “Mort’s Mortuary. You stab ‘em, we slab ‘em. How c’n I help ya?”

Red cackled on the other end of the line. “heya, twisted!” he said, too-cheerful. Drunk, Twist thought. “jus’ callin’ ta check in on ya.”

Twist raised a brow-bone, shutting his sockets so he could see Red’s surroundings more clearly. Poor lighting, a rough mix of monsters and men. A topless bunny monster gyrated on a stage near the back of the room, paper money tucked into her G-string. Twist took a moment to admire a few of her moves—stars above, who knew bunnies could even bend that way—then opened his sockets, finding that the sight of stars was less distracting. “’m doin’ jus’ fine, sweetheart. How ‘bout you? Yer bro said ya were at Grillby’s.”

“heh. yeah.” That certainly didn’t look like Grillby’s. “might ‘a mislead ‘im a bit. ‘m at a grillby’s.” Twist allowed himself to chuckle, even as his sockets narrowed. “wan’ed sumthin’ ta keep me little more, uh, occupied. ya know?”

“Oh, yeah. I c’n see that, sweetheart. Turn yer head a bit, huh? There ya go. No reason ya should be the only one ta get a show.”

There was brief silence as Red processed that, then he chuckled. “ah, man. you too? i ferget you an’ boss’re the same, sumtimes.” His head was swaying from side to side subtly. Very drunk, then. Twist’s jaw went tight and he sat up.

“Yeah, sweetheart. We’re two peas in a pod,” he said, barely paying attention to whatever nonsense was pouring out of his mouth. He was about to ask Red where he was, exactly, when the other monster interrupted.

“bet this whole thing’s got ya wound up, huh?” Red asked, and Twist’s bones locked up.

“What makes ya say that, darlin’?” He shut his sockets, starting to get a headache from the split vision, but watching Red’s vision sway subtly was much, much worse.

“peas in a pod, right?” Red murmured, almost as if he was talking more to himself than to Twist. “boss’s gotta be freakin’ ‘bout this whole thing. know ‘e is. but he’s got the ashtray ta look after ‘im. but you an’ slim an’ cash ain’t got a tale-verse bonefriend ta look after ya. ain’t got an’ older bro neither. i worry ‘bout you guys,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Aw, darlin’. Tha’s sweet.” Even if Twist would really rather he minded his own damn business. At least, drunk, he was more honest about his concern. Sober, he never would have admitted to anything. “I’m doin’ jus’ fine. Figure I c’n find someone ta keep me company fer a week, yeah? My face ain’t that bad, is it?”

Red laughed distantly, like he was distracted. “i got a bad feelin’ ‘bout this,” Red said, “boss ain’t gonna take it well. don’ wanna bother ‘im, though. he don’ need his big bro checkin’ in on ‘im like we were still babybones, right?”

It seemed like a genuine question, so Twist said, “No. No, he ain’t gonna thank ya fer stickin’ yer nose where it ain’t wanted, tha’s fer sure.”

“yeah…. i know. i know but…fuck….” He scrubbed a hand over his face and spun on the barstool to lay his head down on the bar. “you an’ ‘im go runnin’, right? will ya…will ya keep an eye on ‘im? make sure he’s, ya know, doin’ okay? eatin’ right? not scrubbing ‘is hands raw ‘er nuthin’.”

“Sure, darlin’. I can do that.”

“an’ yer…if ya ever need ta talk, ya know i’m here fer ya, right? honorary big brother.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I know, and…same ‘ere. Honorary big bro, if ya need one.”

Red snickered. “twisted, yer three years younger’n me.”

“Yeah? Still bigger’n you, ain’t I?” Red laughed and sat up, getting a good look at the green fire monster behind the bar: Boris, the Grillby from Twist’s own universe. Good. Boris might not know Red personally, but he sure as fuck knew Twist well enough to make damn sure that nothing happened to a skeleton monster in his bar. “Hey, sweetheart? Can ya gimme a minute? Gotta check on sumthin’.”

“sure,” Red slurred, motioning to Boris for another bottle of mustard…and something a bit stronger too.

“Good. I’ll call ya right back. Jus’ a minute.” Red nodded and Twist hung up to make a quick call to Papyrus. “Heya, darlin’. Sorry if I woke ya.” All his lights were on, so that seemed unlikely, but Papyrus was the type to appreciate politeness, especially in unusual situations.

“DON’T BE SILLY, TWISTED-ME! IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT; MY DESIGNATED NAP ISN’T SCHEDULED UNTIL TUESDAY. MAY I ASK WHY YOU’RE ON THE ROOF? DO YOU NEED HELP GETTING DOWN?”

“Nah, ‘m fine. Callin’ ‘bout Red, matter ‘a fact. He’s, uh, too drunk ta teleport. Was hopin’ ya’d be willin’ ta pick ‘im up at the bar.”

Papyrus was silent for a few seconds as he dug a notebook out of his bedside drawer. He shifted to hold the phone against his shoulder and he raised a hand to write. “WHERE?”

Twist gave him the address. “Say ‘hi’ ta Boris while yer there, yeah?”

“CERTAINLY. AND…THANK YOU.”

“Anytime, darlin’. Oh and, uh….” He took a deep breath and steeled himself. “Think you an’ Blue’d be willin’ ta…ta talk ta my bro? ‘bout ev’rythin’? He’s, uh…he’s takin’ it pretty hard.” If anyone could get Blackberry to relax, it was Blue and Papyrus.

He could very nearly hear Papyrus smiling on the other end of the line, so pleased to be of assistance. “OF COURSE! I WOULD BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO, AND I’M CERTAIN BLUE WOULD AS WELL. WE’LL SET SOMETHING UP ONCE HIS HEAT IS FINISHED.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. ‘preciate it.”

He hung up and stared at his phone for a few seconds, mind reeling, then he called Red back. They chatted for a while, about nothing in particular. Twist’s job at the auto shop. Edge’s classes. Red’s new apartment. Blackberry’s application to culinary school. They talked until Papyrus showed up, his smile freezing when he saw the strippers. Whoops—looks like Twist forgot to mention that. Red stopped talking as soon as he saw Papyrus, making a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Then, as Papyrus caught sight of him, he choked out, “gottagonowbroi’llcallyabacklater.”

“Sure thing, darlin’. Get home safe, yeah?”

“yeahyeahbye!”

The phone clicked off and Twist tucked it back into his pocket. He looked back up at the stars, wondering if he should try to call Slim. It was getting late by now, and Slim wasn’t like Papyrus or Edge or Twist. He actually needed his sleep, though he struggled with insomnia. If Twist woke him…. Well. Twist didn’t need that on his head.

Stretching, he carefully picked his way across the roof. He crouched down and gripped the edge of the roof, then slowly lowered himself down. The attic window was open in front of him—a small mercy; he’d half-expected Cash to lock him out entirely—and he swung his legs, hooking an ankle around the sill. This was the hard part. Taking a deep breath, he locked both legs around the sill and let go of the eave. For a breathless moment, it felt like he was falling, then he caught the sill in his hands and pulled himself up and through the window.

Safely inside, he grinned to himself, feeling his soul pulse and pound in his chest, and allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. Gripping his cervical vertebrae—not thinking about shattered skulls and broken necks—he replaced the screen, but left the window open. The attic was stuffy and over-warm; a little fresh air would certainly be appreciated. He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and flopped down onto the bare mattress. As always, his gaze briefly caught on the ankle monitor strapped around his tibia and fibia—a condition of his release from the detention center. He shut his sockets and pushed those thoughts away. Not a period in his life he’d like to revisit right now.

One more thing to do, then he could sleep.

He dialed a familiar number and brought the phone to his ear. It rang twice before going silent. His vision doubled, and he was again looking at the same strip club. Red and Papyrus were nowhere in sight, though, which was good. Red was probably too drunk to put two and two together, but Twist didn’t need him getting too curious. “Heya, Grillbz,” he said, and Boris froze. He dropped his gaze to the bar and laid a hand in his field of vision. “Wanted ta thank ya fer lookin’ after my friends,” he said, “’s real nice ‘a ya.”

Boris shaped his hand into the ‘ok’ symbol. Twist scratched along his mandible, still smiling. Hoping Boris could hear the expression in his voice. “Actually, I think I wanna call in a favor.” Boris blinked rapidly, and Twist chuckled. “Any time one ‘a my friends drops in, you gimme a call, yeah?”

Boris’ hand tapped his index finger on the bar once for ‘yes’. “Thanks, sweetheart. Means a lot. An’…I don’ think I need ta remind ya what’ll happen if ya don’ take real good care of ‘em, do I?” Boris glanced at his other hand and its two missing fingers. He looked back to the bar and his undamaged hand. He tapped twice for ‘no’. “Great! Ya always did have a good mem’ry, sweetheart. Makes life so much easier, doesn’ it?” He tapped on the bar once. “Welp. Have a good night, darlin’. Hope business ’s runnin’ smooth fer ya. Lemme know if ya need anythin’, yeah? ‘m always willin’ ta help a friend.”

Boris waved his hand, a quick, short snap of motion, and Twist hung up, drumming his fingers on his thighbone. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to corral his thoughts. For now, he’d done everything he could. He shut his sockets and tried to settle in to sleep.

He still needed to call Slim. Make sure he was doing okay.

He took a breath and tried to burrow into the mattress. In the morning. When he knew Slim was awake, he’d call. He exhaled slowly, pulling a thin sheet over his body. He took a slow, deep breath and tried to relax his bones.

…what was it like, going into heat?

His sockets snapped open. He really, really didn’t want to think about that right now. Rolling his shoulders, he laid flat on his back and took another slow, deep breath. He focused on the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. Focused on the subtle flutter of his soul. Focused on—

—was it like spider cider the same sudden heat and need irrepressible irresistible—

—Focused on the way his bones pressed into the mattress. Focused on—

—that same sense of wanting without wanting until you didn’t even care who it was anymore just as long as there was a warm body and a hot—

He opened his sockets and sat up. Well. Sleep was not happening tonight, it seemed. He pulled the cord to turn on the light—a bare bulb in the center of the ceiling—and dug through one of the boxes until he found a set of knitting needles and yarn. He shut off the light and—cautiously—climbed down the stairs, listening for any movement. Nothing. Blackberry and Cash were likely sleeping soundly. Taking care to be quiet, he made himself comfortable on the couch, turning on Netflix and picking a show at random, the volume down so low he could hardly hear anything. Once he was settled, he picked up the yarn and started knitting, keeping his hands and mind occupied well into the early morning hours.

He was a Papyrus, after all. How much sleep did he really need, anyway?

Chapter Text

Edge woke before the sun rose the next morning, as always. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to Rus’ soft breathing. Sometime during the night, he’d had pulled away from Rus, leaving about a foot of space between them now. He thought, briefly, of scooting over and folding his arms around his lover, but he didn’t want to disturb him.

Instead, he slipped out from under the covers and got into his running gear. He sent quick text to Twist—Get your ass up—and headed downstairs. After briefly stretching, he grabbed his keys and a bottle of water, then headed out the door. It wasn’t yet light out, but it wasn’t quite dark either. The air was damp and cool, the streets hazed with fog. Edge shivered, but only pushed himself to run faster, aware that he’d warm up in time.

The condos ended, giving way to a large tract of new construction. They’d be apartments, Papyrus had said. The embassy owned this area—earning the small community the nickname ‘Monstertown’—and they were in a hurry to build places for the monsters still stuck in the detention centers and refugee camps to live. Edge had been lucky. His position in the guard had gotten him out of the center early, despite his LV, and his connections had made it easy to find a relatively nice place soon after his release. Many monsters hadn’t been quite so lucky, but they were all working hard to change that.

The embassy was going to be a mess, he realized abruptly. Papyrus had told the Fell-verse skeletons all about going into heat, but they’d have to break the news to the rest of the population too. And what about the LV-ridden monsters still in the centers? What if one of them went into heat while they were still incarcerated? Or the monsters in the refugee camps? What if—?

He pushed himself to run faster, jogging down a narrow footpath that snaked alongside a drainage ditch. Trash littered the path, and the cement-lined ditch was tagged with various symbols and signs. Some he recognized from his time in Hotland, and he filed that information away for later. He’d have to bring it up to Undyne. Human bias had enough fuel already—they did not need actual gang activity to stoke that particular fire.

The path opened onto a cul-de-sac, and Twist waved at him from his front porch before jogging over to join him. Though Edge braced himself, Twist didn’t bring up the events of last night. As always, he was talkative, but rather than being annoyed by Twist’s running commentary, Edge was relieved. His own mind was less than hospitable at the moment, and the cheerful but inane chatter gave him something else to focus on.

They ran hard that day, each of them pushing the other to go just a little further, just a little faster. It was exhilarating, and Edge got caught up in the competition—his grin was fierce, almost aggressive and his shit-talk was biting and acerbic. By the time they’d looped back around to Edge’s condo, both of them were soaked with sweat, and Edge’s joints felt loose, even a little shaky. He wanted coffee and a shower—not in that order—and to sit down for breakfast with his boyfriend.

Exchanging a look with Twist, a genuine smile touched his mouth briefly—there and gone before a person could blink—and the certainty that today would be a good day rooted in his soul. He patted Twist on the back companionably, cheerfully telling him to fuck off when he teased Edge about waking his lover for a morning quickie.

Inside, he toed off his shoes and started the coffee maker. Stripping out of his sweaty shirt, he climbed the stairs, but hesitated in the bathroom door. He glanced back at Rus, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, pale bones stark against the black sheets. For a few moments, he indulged himself and allowed his mouth to turn upward in a gentle smile, soul thrumming in contentment. Rus shifted in his sleep, and Edge wiped the smile off his face, ducking into the bathroom to take his shower. Moments later, the shower curtain pulled back and Rus—naked—slipped in behind him. “need me to wash your back, edgelord?”

He chuckled, the sound warm and rich. “You get mine, I’ll get yours?”

“oh, i’ll get yours, all right,” Rus said, caging him in against the shower wall. They kissed under the spray of water, and Edge allowed his hands to settle on Rus’ hips, distal phalanges digging into his iliac crests. He sighed into the kiss, but pushed Rus back before he could get too adventurous.

“We’re wasting water,” he said throatily, and Rus sighed, forehead pressing into Edge’s collar-bone.

“ugh. fine. guess we’ll just have to fuck in the kitchen, then.”

Turning around, Edge started soaping his chest and pelvis. “I’ve already told you at least five times—we are not screwing around in the kitchen. It’s unsanitary.”

“aw, c’mon, precious,” he said, hands around Edge’s waist as he nibbled on his cervical vertebrae. “we can always clean it afterwards.”

“By ‘we’, I assume you’re referring to me?”

Still nuzzled against him, Rus replied, “what can i say? you’re better at it than i am.”

“Hmph. Well. That’s easily solved—you just need to practice.” Rus started to protest, but Edge pushed the washcloth into his hands. “Do a good job, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Rus purred. “with pleasure.”

He lathered the washcloth and scrubbed along Edge’s ribs and spine, his scapulae and iliac crests. Edge pressed his hands against the wall and shut his sockets, allowing himself to relax into Rus’ touch. The water warmed his bones and steam filled his thoracic cavity. His bones went loose and limp, and he smiled slightly. Then Rus tweaked the tip of his coccyx, earning a shriek. Wary of the slick tiles underfoot, Edge nonetheless wrestled his lover under the spray and gave him a brusque scrubbing, trying not to smile while Rus laughed.

They dried off and Edge pulled Rus from the bed when he tried to crawl back between the sheets, reminding him that it was Sunday and the bedclothes needed to be changed. Rus whined, but Edge convinced him to get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast, though he was sure the smell of coffee did more to convince him than anything Edge said or did. Shaking his head, Edge finished getting dressed, then stripped the sheets off the bed and put on a fresh set, carrying the dirty laundry downstairs to start a load. While in the garage, he pulled the clean clothes from the dryer and carried them back into the living room.

Laundry basket on his hip, he dumped the clean clothes on top of Rus as he passed by. “Start folding. I’ll make breakfast.”

Rus blinked, shaking his head. “why do they need to be folded, anyway? we’re just going to wear them—“

“I am not wearing wrinkled shirts, you heathen. Fold what needs to be folded; hang up the rest.”

Despite his protests, Rus nonetheless started folding. “hey, you wanna put on a movie?” he asked, and Edge shook his head, digging a carton of eggs out of the fridge. Sunday was his day off, but he still had chores to do and a midterm to study for and— He straightened and turned to answer, but the denial caught in his throat when he saw the hopeful expression on his lover’s face. It would be nice, he thought, to spend some quality time with Rus as well. Chores could wait, and it was a calculus midterm—he could work on practice problems while they watched the movie.

“I don’t see why not,” he said airily, pulling out a frying pan. “Pick whatever you like.”

Rus’ brilliant smile was more than enough to convince him that he’d made the right choice. Even knowing Rus was bound to pick an old B-movie—likely hoping to get Edge riled up enough to properly roast the shitty production quality and even shittier writing—Edge didn’t mind.

Breakfast was a simple affair—scrambled eggs and toast. He plated the food while Rus started the movie and brought it over on a tray, alongside a pair of mugs. Cream and honey in Rus’ coffee. Nothing in Edge’s. Rus set the basket of clothes aside, and they sat down on the couch to eat together. Edge leaned against him, brow-bone upraised as he watched the scientists on-screen engineer what appeared to be a giant ant. Soon to be unleashed on an unsuspecting township, no doubt. “Where do you even find these movies?” he asked, morbidly fascinated despite himself.

“dollar store, mostly,” Rus said around a mouthful of egg.

Edge nodded slowly, head slightly cocked as the first scientist was decapitated by the ant. Or, rather, as a papier-mâché facsimile of his head was pushed off his shoulders while he tucked his real head ‘inconspicuously’ into his coat. “I see,” Edge said, playing with his food. “Is that where they sell the special effects as well?”

When they were finished eating and the laundry was folded, Edge eyed the dirty plates and the clean clothes. He should wash the former and put away the latter. He should also go get his calculus book and work on some practice problems. And put the sheets in the dryer—

Rus looped his arms around Edge, hauling him up against his chest. He leaned back, using the arm rest as a support, and stretched his long legs out in front of him, hooking one ankle over Edge’s shin. “later, edgelord.”

Feeling the rise and fall of Rus’ ribcage, Edge leaned into him, allowing his skull to fall back against his collarbone. “I have things I should be doing.”

Rus pressed a kiss to his temple. “watch the movie, precious. everything else can wait for an hour or two.”

Edge closed his sockets and sighed, projecting /peace/safety/warmth/security/. “Later,” he agreed, lacing his fingers with Rus’.

On-screen, the giant ant escaped the lab and headed toward the town, amidst the screams of the scientists. In the kitchen, though, Edge’s phone started ringing. Rus tightened his grip. “Rus—“

“let it ring,” he said, holding him close. “it’s sunday morning. whatever it is, it can wait.” Edge considered that, then smoothed a thumb over the back of Rus’ hand. He settled more comfortably against him, and let the phone ring. After the fourth ring, it went silent, and Rus nuzzled against his cervical vertebrae, purring.

The phone started ringing again, and this time, Edge huffed and pulled out of his grip. “no!” he said, “edge….”

Edge batted his hand away. “It must be important. If not, then I’ll tell them to fuck off and we can go back to watching this travesty of a movie.”

“ugh. fine. since you’re up, can you refill my coffee?”

Shaking his head, Edge answered the phone and immediately pulled it away. He straightened his spine, mentally preparing himself as he listened to Undyne—his Undyne—scream. “Gutter-rat! Where the fuck are you?”

Braced for the assault on his senses, he brought the phone to his acoustic meatus, his ‘phone vision’ granting him a glimpse through Undyne’s eye. “Today’s my day off,” he reminded her, grabbing the coffee pot to top off Rus’ mug. On the other end of the line, the embassy was bustling and busy. Papyrus and Razz were already there, which meant Edge had to join them. He certainly wasn’t going to allow Razz to upstage him.

“We’re putting brochures together and passing information out to the community leaders. Not to mention the center just dropped off another busload of detainees. We’re trying to find housing for them, but we could definitely use an extra set of hands.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Ten,” she challenged.

He nodded and hung up, looking at his phone to avoid looking at Rus. Nonetheless, he heard him stand and felt his arms wrap around his waist. “see you for lunch?” Edge didn’t reply, thinking of the chaos he’s glimpsed. “dinner, then?”

“Dinner,” he agreed. Turning in Rus’ hold, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He suppressed the twinge of guilt he felt, seeing Rus’ disappointed smile. He caught his cheeks between his hands and leaned in for a kiss, slow and sweet, if not wholly chaste. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Rus smiled innocently—and tweaked Edge’s coccyx again. “don’t worry about that, precious. just be home for dinner, and i’ll be happy.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, and he wondered what he’d done to deserve a monster like Rus. “Promise,” he said, before kissing him again.

“you keep that up,” Rus said when they pulled away, “and i’m gonna have to call felldyne and let her know i’ve got you all tied up for the day.”

Edge snorted, pushing him away. “Go watch your movie.”

“see ya, edgelord. drive safe.”

“I will,” he said, grabbing his keys and motorcycle jacket.

“i love you!” Rus called as he slipped into the garage.

“You too,” he replied, then swiftly shut the door behind him.

He drove past the condos and out of the neighborhoods, out to the main thoroughfare. The houses gave way to shops and businesses and restaurants, and the quiet streets grew bustling and busy. Humans wandered in this part of Monstertown, here to sample monster food, to see the man made of fire spin sugar with his bare hands, to watch spider-silk gowns being woven by groups of sapient spiders. They were here to ogle and to gawk, but as long as they weren’t causing trouble, that was fine. In fact, as Papyrus liked to point out, it was an opportunity to earn good will and share their culture with the humans.

Nevertheless, sometimes, it felt a bit too much like living in a zoo without bars, in Edge’s opinion.

The embassy was located at a T-intersection, where the main road met the road that lead into downtown Ebott. It was originally an old schoolhouse, painted brick red and topped with a small steeple for the school bell. It really wasn’t adequate for their needs. The main room wasn’t large enough for the meetings they occasionally called, and there was only a single, small back room to serve as storage, as well as a couple offices and a small parking lot to the rear of the buidling. For now, though, they made it work. Paying for property, construction, and lawyers’ fees was far more important at the moment. Remodeling could come later.

He coasted to a stop at the curb, eyeing the tables out front as he parked. Papyrus and Blue insisted on setting up information booths on the weekends, where volunteers could pass out pamphlets and field questions on monster culture, history, and traditions. Most of the volunteers were Tale-verse, but they’d long since decided that it was important to have at least one Fell-verse monster on hand, in case things got rough. Not that the Tale-verse monsters weren’t capable fighters in a pinch, but they didn’t always recognize a threat when it was staring them in the face.

Edge often served as an unofficial guard for the other embassy employees; not all the humans were respectfully curious, after all. Some came to bait and bully. Officially, though, the multiple Royal Guards had been disbanded. Human authorities had made it abundantly clear that they would not be allowed to maintain any kind of independent military force, nor would they be permitted to maintain their own governing body. The authorities had also been sure to emphasize just how fortunate they were to be permitted any kind of territory at all.

Never mind that the area around Mt. Ebott had been Monster territory centuries ago, before they were forced out of their homes and imprisoned under a fucking mountain.

He straightened his spine and marched up the walk, ignoring the stares he received from gawking humans. As soon as he walked into the embassy’s main room, he went still and stiff, put off by the loud chatter and the crowd of monsters, most of them Fell. It became immediately obvious why Undyne had called him here.

She spotted him from across the room and waved him over. He shouldered his way through the crowd, subtly projecting /menace/ to urge the other monsters to part for him. They clasped wrists in greeting, and she clapped him on the shoulder, her heavy metal hand clanging against the bone. Not for the first time, he was grateful for the protective padding of his motorcycle jacket. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago,” she said, her grin shark-like.

“You only called me twenty minutes ago.”

“Details!” she said, waving him off. “Look we’ve got a fresh batch of detainees to get settled and this lot—“ She jerked a thumb at the gathered Fell-monsters. “—needs to learn about the birds and the bees. We’re trying to sort them into types, so the scientists can explain things better, but—“

“They aren’t exactly cooperative, are they?”

She grinned sharply. “Not exactly.”

He sighed. “Where do you want me?”

“Put your lungs to work, gutter-rat—get these assholes sorted out, and keep ‘em in line.”

“I’m a skeleton; I don’t have—“

“Yeah. But you’re the best drill sergeant I’ve got. Or are you going soft on me?”

He rolled his eyelights but took a deep breath. Then he called out, “LINE UP BY TYPE RIGHT FUCKING NOW! ELEMENTALS IN THE SOUTHEAST CORNER. MAMMALS IN THE NORTHEAST. GARDEN-TYPE MONSTERS IN THE SOUTHWEST CORNER. MOVE IT! THAT’S RIGHT NOW, EVERYONE. YOU! YES, YOU! SOUTHEAST CORNER—NOW! AQUATIC MONSTERS IN THE NORTHWEST CORNER. REPTILES IN THE MIDDLE. EVERYONE ELSE? GET THE FUCK OUT AND COME BACK IN AN HOUR.”

While he shouted, the other former guardsmen rushed forward to usher everyone to their designated spots. There was some token resistance at first, but soon, everyone was grudgingly migrating to their designated areas. “Is that sufficient?” he asked Undyne, and she laughed raucously, clapping him on the back.

“Nice job, gutter-rat. Think you can keep things under control?” He gave her a baleful look, and she snickered. “Right. Then I’m gonna head out and help the less-cool versions of me sort out our detainees.”

He nodded sharply and started patrolling the room, making certain that everyone was well aware of his presence and well knew that he wouldn’t stand for any nonsense. Monsters gathered around the scientists in groups, listening as they described the particulars of their species’ life cycle. Edge paid special attention to the two Tale-verse scientists, afraid their Fell-verse audience might turn on them.

Unfortunately, as he walked the room, he caught snippets of the scientists’ talks.

“—heightened arousal, increased appetite, cramping—“

He’d managed to avoid thinking about his own upcoming heat since this morning, but now the worries came flooding back. Underground, this kind of weakness—this vulnerability—would have been immediately taken advantage of. It seemed hard to believe that the surface was truly that different.

“—m-mild fever—“

He’d seen monsters drugged with Spider Cider and auctioned off to the highest bidder. He’d seen monsters made mindless with the drug, begging and pleading for someone—anyone—to take them. In the guard, he’d seen victims locked into temporary cells to wait out the drug, had heard their screaming, their begging firsthand.

“—unmated pairs would do best to find a temporary partner to share their heat—“

He’d felt it, too. Felt the haze and heat as the cider took effect, warming his bones and forcing his magic to manifest. He knew what it was to both love and hate the person on top of him.

He never wanted his moments with Rus to feel like that, never wanted to associate Rus with his rapist Muffet.

“—y-your souls w-will manifest on the f-first day. This is p-perfectly normal—“

And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? He hated what his LV, what his world had done to his soul. Hated the calcified lump that seemed to sit heavy in his chest. Rus had tried to talk to him about soul bonding on more than one occasion, but he’d avoided the conversation, unwilling to confess he wasn’t even sure he was physically capable of forming a soul bond with anyone. Let alone express the fear that Rus’ soul would somehow be polluted by contact with his.

“—m-may not e-experience heat d-due to age, illness, injury, o-or malnourishment.”

He froze, listening to Swapdyne—who had earned the nickname ‘Doc’—address the gathered elementals. She described how important magic levels were to a monster’s heat cycle, especially amongst those that didn’t have a physical body like the mammals and other animalistic monsters. “N-now that we’re all in a s-safer, m-more secure environment, our bodies and s-souls are preparing to r-reproduce, s-so if you d-don’t have magic to s-spare for a new s-soulling, you l-likely won’t g-go into heat. Intent is required to c-create a new s-soul,” she reminded them, pushing her glasses up, “but this is y-your body’s way of s-stabilizing and s-solidifying your current relationships or a w-way of attracting p-potential mates.”

She started talking about relationships and baby guppies at that point, so he tuned out and moved on. He had no desire for any babybones—now or in the future—and wasn’t worried about any ‘accidents’ of that nature. But his mind had caught on her mention of malnourishment. Caught and held. No, he told himself, circling the room again. No. What he was contemplating was completely and utterly insane. He’d put his past behind him. Overcome his demons. He was better than that.

Still, as he continued to patrol the room, and as the first batch of monsters was rotated out for a new batch, his mind continually returned to the idea, like a scab he couldn’t resist picking at.

Chapter Text

One of the Fell monsters was starting to get agitated, so Edge caught him by the shoulder and dragged him outside to cool off. The monster—a Final Froggit—tore away from him and started hopping around the parking lot as soon as they were outside. Edge just watched passively. He well understood the Froggit’s feelings, and he didn’t object to getting a little fresh air himself.

His gaze was drawn across the parking lot where his Undyne and her Twistfell and Tale-verse counterparts were busy checking in a fresh batch of monsters from the detention center. He didn’t interact much with the other Undynes, which was fortunate. Calling his Undyne ‘Hook’, as her counterparts did, still felt jarring and unnatural, and calling her Tale-verse counterpart ‘Undyne’ even more so. He had no particular attachment to the Twistfell Judge, at least, so calling her ‘Scales’ was not particularly onerous.

“—issued trackers,” Scales said, her voice carrying across the parking lot. She looked out at the gathered monsters, regarding them all with her humorless stare. “They’ll monitor your location and magic usage. If any of your step out of line, we’ll be able to find you and take you out. Understand?”

There was a chorus of nods, and Edge felt a brief surge of gratitude. Despite his LV, he’d only been detained for a month in the Center. His tracker had been removed after three. Being a guardsman with a good track record had definitely benefited him—not to mention the support of his Tale-verse lover and the letters of recommendation from Papyrus, already working as an ambassador. As far as he knew, this was likely the last group to be released from the Centers. For the time being, at least.

Monsters that had shown worrying signs while incarcerated or monsters with particularly high LV had been deemed too dangerous for integration. The humans were still trying to figure out what to do with these monsters—as of now, it seemed like they’d be sent back Underground. A fate that seemed, somehow, much crueler than mere imprisonment.

Twist could easily have been among them. His tracker was still active, and he’d been detained for six months before being released. But for Papyrus’ intercession, he might not have been allowed even that much. He was the very last of the skeletons to be freed, and he’d been on his best behavior ever since. Well. Relatively.

The crowd shuffled as Scales finished her speech, allowing Undyne Hook to take her place. Edge froze in place, his soul stuttering as he caught a glimpse of black carapace. The Spider monster turned, and he forced his breathing to settle and slow. It was a Muffet. Not his, though. His Muffet had been released a few months ago, and she’d quietly disappeared from his life. She’d registered with the proper authorities and applied for relocation. As far as he knew—and he made it his business to know, given their history—she was a law-abiding citizen of a small desert town southeast of Ebott.

He didn’t know which Muffet this was. Not one of the Tale-verse Muffets, of course—they had no LV and hadn’t been detained in one of the Centers. That left Slim’s and Twist’s Muffets. He hadn’t been keeping track of either of them. Honestly, he thought they’d been released early on. Surely, none of them could have been as bad as his. In any case, it was disconcerting to see this one here.

“Hey!” the Froggit said, hopping to get his attention. “I’m ready to go back in now.”

Edge tore his gaze away from the Muffet. “Are you?” he asked, looking the Froggit up and down. He did seem markedly calmer. He wasn’t as jittery, and he even looked a little embarrassed at his earlier behavior. With a short, sharp nod, Edge ushered him back inside, glancing over his shoulder once. The crowd had shifted, though, and he couldn’t see Muffet anymore. He decided to put her out of his mind, though he vowed to ask Hook about her later.

Unfortunately, going back inside, he was only assaulted anew by the talk of monster heats. He braced himself and tried to focus on the monsters he was meant to be watching, making sure that none of them got too agitated. It was hard to ignore the snippets of conversation, though, and harder still to ignore the way his soul pulsed and squeezed in response. He closed a hand around his wrist, locking his arms behind his back, and surveyed the crowd of Fell monsters. He had a job to do. He would focus on it. No matter how the talk of exposed souls made his own soul sink.

Finally, the scientists’ talks started to wind to a close, and they instructed the groups of monsters to reach out to their own families and monster types to deliver the news. Any questions they had could be submitted to the embassy. Apparently, they’d be running a new column in the weekly newsletter, where an available Tale-verse monster would be answering any questions about their coming heats or just life on the surface in general. This last had to have been a suggestion from a well-meaning but, ultimately, uninformed Tale-verse monster. Edge could see his own skepticism reflected in the other Fell monsters’ eyes.

“W-we want t-to make this as p-painless as possible,” the Undertale Alphys said, but the Fell monsters were already starting to disperse, talking amongst themselves. She hesitated—she obviously had more to say, but with a wince, she fell silent and let them go. The Underswap Undyne—Edge tried to remember what her nickname was, but he was having trouble with it—patted her on the back supportively. She said something to her, but the door opened behind him, and the warriors swooped in to take their respective girlfriends to lunch.

Hook caught him around the neck and, after knuckling the top of his head despite his very vocal protests, hauled him over to the computer screen Spike—their Alphys—had been using to communicate. Her extreme agoraphobia made it very difficult for her to venture out, so she’d been conducting her talk from the safety of her lab. Hook, one arm still looped over Edge’s neck, propped her free arm on her hip and eyed her girlfriend. “You got food in that cave of yours, babe?” Spike held up a cup of noodles, earning a loud groan from Hook. “I mean real food.”

“This is real food,” Spike grumbled, “It’s got….” She turned the cup and studied the nutrition facts. “All the sodium you could ever want, dehydrated vegetables, hydrolyzed corn protein—you’re always on my ass to eat more protein, right?—and whatever the fuck TBHQ is. See? It’s at least 80% real food.”

Hook glared. “Don’t eat that crap! There should be some leftover spaghetti in the refrigerator.”

Edge raised a brow-bone, very familiar with Hook’s attempts at spaghetti. “Early in the relationship for a murder attempt, isn’t it?”

Spike snickered, and Hook adjusted her grip to clap a hand over his mouth. “Shut it, gutter-rat. No one asked you.” She returned her attention to her girlfriend, saying, “C’mon, babe. You’ll eat something real, right?”

Spike huffed, tossing the noodles over her shoulder. They landed with a solid plunk, and she wandered off screen. “Alright, alright. Geeze. I’ll see what I’ve got.”

“Thanks, babe!” Undyne yelled, then turned off the computer. For several seconds, her dopey smile was reflected in the computer’s blank screen. “She’s the best, right?”

Struggling to free his mouth, Edge managed to say, “She’s certainly something.”

His less-than-impressed tone earned him another noogie, then she hauled him out of the room and announced that they were going to get something to eat. With anyone else, he’d have refused—his soul was positively sick, anxious with the looming threat of his heat, and the uncertainty brought on by seeing a Muffet he knew nothing about—but Hook wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not when it came to food. She knew his history, and she wasn’t about to let him backslide. So, with a sigh, he allowed her to drag him out to a nearby café, run by a Tale-verse Vegetoid and their family.

At the counter, she ordered beer for herself and sriracha for him—without asking. He rolled his eyelights, but accepted the drink graciously enough. They took their drinks and sat at a corner booth to wait for their food. At least their server knew how to properly serve a condiment—on the rocks and with a twist of lime. Even after these many years, Grillby still served it in the bottle. What a disgrace. Then again, Red and Sans hadn’t exactly made an effort to set him straight.

Watching the cook, Edge traced patterns in the condensation collecting on the glass, thinking. Hook noticed. Waving a hand in front of his face to catch his attention, she asked, “What’s eating you? You look grumpier than usual.”

He snorted and took a sip, grimacing at the initial burn. “And your resting bitch face seems to be getting worse with each passing year. What’s your point?”

She laughed, fangs flashing. “Don’t make me embarrass you in public, gutter-rat. Cut the shit—what’s up?”

He was not ready to divulge the truth, so he redirected her. “What do you know about the Muffet they released today?”

Understanding—and a there-and-gone flash of fury—flickered over her features. “She’s Twist-verse. Similar record to the one we’ve got. Scales gave her a talking to. Didn’t say anything about giving Trouble a head’s up, though.” As if they didn’t have enough names and nicknames to remember, Hook insisted on assigning all the Papyrus-es her own nicknames. Twist, naturally, was ‘Trouble’. Edge nodded, absently drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “You know anything about her?”

He shook his head. “No. Twist has always been rather quiet about his past. I don’t know what kind of history they have, if any.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Hook shifted so the Vegetoid could set down their plates. Cauliflower rice and vegetable curry for him, and seaweed salad for her. They thanked their server, and Hook idly coiled the tines of her fork through the stringy seaweed. He stirred his spoon through the curry, trying to ignore the way his soul clenched at the strong smell. “You want me to pay him a visit?” she asked, taking a big bite.

He shook his head. “No. I’ll see him tomorrow for our run. I’ll tell him then.” It seemed like most Papyrus-es had some kind of relationship with their ‘verse’s Muffet, but things were always slightly off in the Twist-verse—notably and obviously different in unpredicable ways. It was very possible that Twist didn’t have any kind of relationship with his Muffet, but Edge would rather warn him, just in case. “What name did she register with?”

“Tarantella Tuffet.”

“Cute,” he said dryly. He eyed the curry again, lifting a spoonful up to take a tentative bite. The flavor was strong. Pervasive. Under normal circumstances, he’d probably enjoy it. As it was, though, his soul hitched and he stuck his spoon back in the curry, stirring it idly.

“Is that all that’s bugging you, squirt?”

He didn’t freeze. He deliberately cocked a brow-bone and took a drink. “Why do you ask?”

Her gaze dropped to his curry before she met his eyelight. “Call it a hunch.”

He scowled, annoyed at her sharp eye. “I’ve been talking,” he said sharply, “and I’m not a heathen that talks with her mouth full.” He said the last emphatically, but that only caused her to stick her tongue out at him—and the wad of half-chewed seaweed she’d been eating. He glared at her. “You’re the former Captain of the Guard,” he snapped, “Grow. Up.”

“You first. Eat your veggies, squirt, or I’ll tell your boyfriend you need a spanking.”

His cheekbones flared a brilliant red, and he flipped her off, but he dug into the curry without protest. She would absolutely follow through on that threat, and Edge did not need her giving Rus any brilliant ideas.

His soul roiled as the fresh magic incorporated into it, sitting like a heavy lump in his soul. (“Malnourished monsters—“) No. No. He swallowed another spoonful, ignoring the way it seemed to coat his mouth, his tongue. He shut down the inner voice, reminding himself that the very idea was completely insane…even as he mentally calculated his magic input and output for the day. He’d gone for a run, but of course, that didn’t really require much magic. And he’d had a pretty substantial breakfast. A skeleton of his size and general fitness would need—

No. He wasn’t doing this. He wasn’t. He stabbed at the curry, jamming the spoon into his mouth almost vengefully. He swallowed the lump of food, ignoring the heat that spread through him as his soul converted it to magic. Nausea rose up, but he pushed it down. It was psychological, not physical. He was fine. He was fine. And he needed to eat to maintain his health.

Even if being healthy meant going into heat once a year. Even if it meant unwillingly exposing his ugly, calcified, scarred soul and—

His throat closed, and he idly stirred the curry. He needed a moment. Just a moment. That’s all. Then he could take another spoonful. He looked up at Hook, weighing his odds. He hadn’t been able to bring it up with Rus, but she was his oldest and most trusted friend. If he could confide in anyone…. “Captain?”

She turned her head, looking him over. “Yeah?”

“How did you take it? When you heard about...?” He gestured loosely, but she raised a brow in reply, forcing him to say, “Your heat.”

Raising her chin, she took a thoughtful bite of her salad, considering his question. “Wasn’t sure how to feel at first,” she admitted, and he nodded stiffly. “It’s not the kind of thing you ever expect, you know? But….” Her grin turned wolfish, predatory. “I’m not exactly gonna say no to a week off work to fuck my girl, you know?” His soul dropped, but her expression was conspiratorial. He was meant to smile and agree and say he felt the same. It’s what she expected of him.

So he did.

Even as his soul sank, heavy and sick, he forced himself to smirk and say, “There are certainly worse ways to spend a week.” The words tasted of ash and dust, and he thought he might vomit.

Hook nodded, pleased, and started talking about Spike’s tight, hot—“Undyne!” he hissed, even though he felt like someone had hollowed him out inside. “That is more information than I will ever need to know about your sex life.”

“Fair enough,” she said around another mouthful of seaweed, “We’ll talk about yours instead—“

“We will do no such thing.” He was almost relieved. Their banter was familiar. Comforting. And it gave him something else to focus on. Something else to think about.

“—what’s it like, anyway? Getting Tale-verse tail?”

He put his head in his hands, cheekbones lit with magic. “I don’t even know where to begin chastising you. For the pun? The question itself?”

“Aw, c’mon, gutter-rat! I’m just curious. You guys can form whatever you want, right? So, how’s that usually go? You an ass guy or—“ Her shark-like smile broadened. “—do you go for the pussy? You ever thought about scissoring? I can give you some tips if you—“

He squawked, embarrassed and indignant. “That is none of your business!”

“Hey, you said—“

“I said nothing to invite this line of inquiry!”

Even as they bantered, Edge picked delicately at his food, moving it around rather than truly eating it. If he tried to take another bite, he’d make himself ill. He assuaged any concerns Hook might have by raising his hand and asking for a to go box, though he had no intention of eating it later. They walked back to the embassy, bickering good-naturedly.

All the while, Edge felt like he was talking from behind a wall of glass. Insulated. Isolated. Alone.

-

It was easy to rationalize, really. Very easy.

Rus came up behind him as he chopped vegetables. He leaned into him, resting his chin on Edge’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around Edge’s waist. “heya, precious. good to have you back,” he said, nuzzling against his cervical vertebrae.

Edge allowed himself a small smile, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. He turned his head, and they kissed—light and sweet. Soft. “I was only gone for a few hours—“

Rus silenced him with another kiss. “most of your ‘day off’, you mean?”

Edge winced. “Once things settle down,” he said, “I should be able to convince them to let me have an extra day in repayment.”

Rus nodded, watching his hands. “what’re you making?”

“Soup,” he said, “Minestrone, to be specific.” Rus grunted in affirmation, still clinging to him. Ordinarily, Edge might have teased him about being so clingy and restricting Edge’s movements, but the contact felt nice after the day he’d had. He found himself leaning back against Rus, a soft purr building in his chest. “Once I get everything into the pot, we’ll leave it to simmer. If you want to pick out a movie….” He knew he was just asking for Rus to pick out something awful—he did not now, nor would he ever understand the declaration that a movie could be ‘so bad, it’s good’—but sitting with his lover on the couch sounded…nice.

Rus seemed rather delighted by the prospect too. He quickly pecked Edge on the cheek before teleporting out to the living room—earning an exasperated chastisement from Edge—and starting to root through his collection of terrible movies. While he searched, Edge finished preparing the soup, giving it a brisk stir and a satisfied nod before he lowered the heat and left the soup to simmer.

He just needed time. That’s all. Time to adjust. Time to adapt.

Seeing him in the doorway, Rus jammed a disk into the player before scrambling onto the couch. Edge raised a brow-bone, only for Rus to grin up at him and say, “saved you a seat, edgelord,” while gesturing to his lap. Edge shook his head, gritting his teeth to keep himself from smiling.

“I imagine you think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Rus just smiled. “nah. just desperate.”

That did startle a laugh out of him, quickly silenced. Carefully—mindful, always, of how delicate Rus was—he sat primly between Rus’ thighs and leaned back against his chest. When Rus wrapped his arms around him, he caught one hand and laced their fingers together. Turning his head, he eyed the scrolling credits. In black and white. Of course. “What monstrosity have you chosen for us tonight?” he asked, starting to project / security / safety / warmth / love / very subtly.

Purring quietly, Rus nuzzled into his vertebrae before saying, “ ‘night of the lepus’.”

“…Lepus? What in the world is—?” Then he saw a bunny cross the screen. “…tell me you’re joking.”

Rus shook with laughter. “nope.”

“Bunnies? Are you—fucking bunnies?”

“yep.”

Edge shook his head, stunned. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Even the bunnies in my universe aren’t especially threatening.” He sneered in disgust at the humans on screen. Being mauled by bunnies. “This is a travesty.”

Rus only laughed harder, cuddling him closer. “edgelord. i love you.”

“Fabulous. I fail to see what that has to do with how absurd this movie’s basic premise is. How does one even come up with such a ridiculous idea? This is—this is pure nonsense!” The more worked up he got, the more delighted Rus seemed, so he played into his bemusement and played up his annoyance—pleased to please his lover, even if he didn’t really understand what or why he was so amused.

He wasn’t going to do it forever. Only for a little while. Only until he was ready.

When the soup was ready, they both ate. And if Edge’s bowl wasn’t as full as Rus’, well he was unlikely to notice. Unlikely, too, to see that Edge’s bowl was mostly broth.

He’d done this before. He could do it again. But he’d be more careful. More cautious. He’d keep ahead of it, this time. Stay in control. He wasn’t just falling into it out of spite and fear. He was making a conscious, deliberate decision. That made all the difference, surely. He just needed time. And, maybe, to feel like he had some control over his own body. It was fine. This was fine. He wasn’t going to let things get out of hand this time. He was sure of it.

He finished his soup, allowing Rus to let him put off getting up to wash their dishes. Instead, they stayed cuddled on the couch, watching what had to be one of the worst movies in existence.

He had tomorrow completely planned out. He’d get up early and run an extra couple of miles before he met up with Twist for their usual run. He could get away with claiming Twist had brought him a smoothie or something for breakfast—and if Rus wasn’t convinced, he could claim to be late and grab something ‘to go’. They didn’t usually eat lunch together, so he could likely skip it entirely, if he felt it necessary. They always had dinner together, and that he wouldn’t skip. It would be too suspicious.

Yes. Yes. His plan was solid. He had everything in hand.

Unfortunate that he entirely forgot to warn Twist that his Muffet was out and free.

Chapter Text

Twist sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he surveyed the kitchen. Cookies, cupcakes, chocolate croissants, éclairs, macaroons, dainties, donuts, and—of course—Blackberry’s famous cinnamon skulls, in every shape, size, color, and flavor imaginable covered every flat surface. Apparently ‘Berry hadn’t been sleeping well either. Behind him, Cash walked into the kitchen and froze. He too paused to study the wealth of baked goods. Underwhelmed, he grunted and made for the coffee machine without a word. He eyed it with disdain, but poured himself a cup anyway—Twist always started it before heading out on his run with Edge, knowing Cash wasn’t wholly functional before his first cup.

Cash took a long drink, apparently immune to the heat of the coffee. As he refilled the nearly empty mug, he finally said, “thought you needed a permit to open a bakery.” He considered the array of donuts, then grabbed one and took a tentative bite. His sockets widened, and he took another bite.

Cringing, Twist looked away, nearly able to taste the cloying sweetness and the grease. “’Berry bakes when he’s upset.” He could probably take some of the sweets to work with him. Hungry mechanics and customers would be happy to pick at the selection. But there were just so many, even that likely wouldn’t be enough. “Wanna help me deliver some ‘a these?”

Cash took a sip of coffee and another bite of donut. “nope.”

Lacking both a car and the ability to teleport, Twist would have a rather hard time delivering them on his own. “Alright, sweetheart. Fair ‘nough.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and started dialing. While it rang, he asked, “Ya got plans fer taday? Goin’ anywhere?”

Cash raised a brow-bone. “no.”

“Great!” Cash’s brow-bones furrowed, and he opened his mouth, about to say something, but Twist turned away. His phone vision had kicked in, revealing the bare walls and cluttered floor of Slim’s apartment, and Twist spoke before Slim could get a word out. “Heya, darlin’! Did I wake ya?” It looked like Slim was still in bed—and bare to the waist. Twist caught sight of his exposed ribs and swallowed hard, shifting his focus to Cash and the kitchen and trying to ignore his second sight.

“no,” Slim lied, rubbing the sleep from his sockets.

“Yeah? Well, I was wonderin’ if ya’d be willin’ ta come over an’ help me out. Got a bunch ‘a baked goods ‘ere. Heh. ‘Berry’s been busy. Wan’ed ta spread the love, you know? Cash can’t eat ‘em all.” Cash flipped him off for that, grabbing another donut before leaving the kitchen to flop onto the couch. Twist shook his head, still grinning in amusement. “So? Ya wanna help? You c’n have first pick if ya do.”

“i’m in.”

“Thanks a bunch, sweetheart. Yer a doll.”

He hung up and flopped onto the couch beside Cash, shifting to rest his feet on Cash’s legs. They were quickly and forcibly removed, but Twist grinned, gaze still on his phone. He sent a group text out to the other skeletons and to Hook—who he still owed for having his back in the Center—asking if they wanted any baked goods. Blue was still out of commission, but Papyrus lived with him and was happy to reply for him. Edge replied with an emphatic no, but Rus messaged him in private, asking if there were any cinnamon skulls. Razz didn’t reply at all, but Sans seemed to take special delight in ordering his boyfriend’s favorite sweets. Razz wouldn’t spoil himself, so Sans was happy to do it for him. Red, of course, wanted a bit of everything. Slim appeared while he was still fielding texts, not even bothering to knock. Cash perked up immediately, though he didn’t say anything.

Perfect.

Twist jumped up and slung an arm over Slim’s shoulders, steering him into the kitchen. “Heya, darlin’. How’re you this fine mornin’, huh? Holdin’ up okay?” Slim smiled, punching him companionably in the chest, and Twist planted a hand on top of his skull and scrubbed his fingers over his coronal suture. “Now what was that fer, huh? Here I am, peacefully offerin’ perfectly good goodies, an’ I get hit fer it?”

Cash watched them closely, eyelights keen and sharp. As soon as Slim looked over at him, though, he was suddenly engrossed in his phone. Smirking, Slim asked, “perfectly good? you sure of that?”

“Welp, Cash’s had two so far, an’ he ain’t dead yet.” Cash froze, mug halfway to his mouth. He turned slowly, glaring at Twist. Twist just winked. “So, sweetheart? How’re ya feelin’? These safe ta deliver?”

Cash’s jaw popped. Then he leaned back against the couch cushions and flipped him off again. “if this is how i die, i’m taking as many of you with me as possible. deliver them.”

“Fair ‘nough. So, sweetheart—pick yer poison,” he said the last to Slim, earning a snicker from him and a growl from Cash. He grabbed a plastic tray for Slim to load up, and whenever Slim started to reach for the smaller or poorly formed treats, Twist slapped his hand away and picked out the best, until Slim finally started taking the best for himself. Nodding approvingly, Twist left him to it and started plating trays for the others. When Slim was finished, Twist grinned at him and said, “Why doncha keep an eyelight on patient zero—“

“twist, i swear on the stars, i will haunt your ass.”

“—an’ I’ll finish up here.”

Slim nodded and snatched up a chocolate croissant before slipping past him. Twist smiled, watching covertly as he approached Cash. He didn’t quite freeze when Slim came to stand in front of him, but his movements were definitely stiff and stilted compared to his normally casual demeanor. He scooted over, clearly inviting Slim to sit, even if he didn’t say anything. His cheekbone was faintly flushed, though he’d deny it if anyone pointed it out. Slim sat beside him and knocked their shoulders together by way of greeting. Cash just grunted, feigning disinterest.

Left to their own devices, the pair of them would probably continue to coexist in awkward silence—Slim was quiet at the best of times, and Cash wasn’t used to speaking in anything other than insults. Luckily for the both of them, Twist was more than happy to break the tension.

He took a deep breath and broke into a loud, slightly off-key rendition of ‘Never Been to Spain’. Irritation crossed Cash’s features, and he took the uneaten remains of his donut and lobbed it at Twist’s head. Laughing, Twist batted it out of the air, snickering. “’s matter, darling? Not a fan ‘a the classics?” The empty coffee mug arched through the air in answer, and Twist caught it readily, still grinning.

“try pink floyd,” Slim suggested, and Twist snickered, familiar with the song he referenced.

“Or maybe sumthin’ by the Man in Black?”

Slim ducked his head and covered his mouth, hiding a grin. Cash just glared at Twist. Though he seemed willing to forgive Slim for his teasing, his irritation only grew when Twist started in on ‘Ain’t no Grave’. Irritated and out of ammunition, Cash turned to Slim and demanded, “you’re really okay listening to this butchery? i thought you liked music.”

Slim shrugged, glancing back at Twist. “i’ve heard worse,” he said, rather charitably.

Twist paused in the middle of boxing a bunch of donuts. “Sweetheart, ’m hurt,” he protested, “Wounded. Killed by faint praise.”

Shaking with silent laughter, Slim ducked his head, but Cash heaved a sigh. “if only.” He was trying not to smile, though, Twist could tell—and he’d count that as a victory. The tension had bled out of the others’ shoulders too and that was definitely a good sign. He dropped the off-key singing and settled for humming, fluidly shifting through a mental playlist with no regard to chorus, refrain, or genre. Cash and Slim still weren’t really talking, but their silence seemed companionable, rather than awkward. Slim would occasionally nudge Cash to show him something on his phone, earning an amused half-smile.

At last, the final package was wrapped up. Twist stood up straight and surveyed his work, nodding in satisfaction. He washed the icing off his fingers and asked, “Ya ready, sweetheart?” Slim nodded and stretched, extracting himself from the couch.

“see you later, then?” he said, looking at Cash as Twist handed him several bags.

Cash was tense again, and he wasn’t looking at either of them. “i’ll be around.” Slim hesitated, obviously not wholly satisfied with that answer. Twist draped himself over the back of the couch to embrace Cash, earning a growl and a couple fingers in his left socket for his trouble.

“Later, sweetheart,” he said, ignoring the scratch of Cash’s fingers against the interior of his socket. “Sure ya don’ wanna come with us? There’s room in the car.”

“very.”

“Yer loss.” He drew away, fingers tight around Cash’s keys so they wouldn’t make a sound as he pulled them from his pocket. He took the bags from Slim and passed him Cash’s car keys. “Yer drivin’,” he said with a wink.

They managed to reach the door before Cash realized what had happened. Then he was on his feet, and Twist shoved Slim out the door, telling him to run. Doubled over laughing, Slim tried to run for the car door, but Cash teleported in front of it, his arms crossed and his eyelight out. The effect was somewhat ruined when Slim crashed into him, and his eyelight flared bright in surprise. To keep from falling, they wrapped their arms around each other, steadying themselves.

Twist paused, a pleased smile touching his mouth. Cash was looking down at Slim, and Slim was looking up at him. Twist couldn’t see Slim’s expression, but for the moment, Cash’s features were clear of his customary apathetic irritation. His socket was wide, the eyelight bright, and his cheekbone was flushed. Half of his face remained stiff and still, though, and after a moment, the undamaged half shifted to match it. He looked away from Slim, and over to Twist, the irritation genuine now, not just a front. He was still holding onto Slim, though, his arms wrapped protectively around his ribcage.

“you dirty thief. give me back my keys.”

“Aw, sweetheart. C’mon. Neither ‘a us got cars. Yer really gonna make poor Slim teleport all over town ta drop these off?” That was a bit of an exaggeration. They all lived in and around Monstertown, within five miles of each other. Hardly ‘all over town’.

“why can’t everyone come pick it up themselves?” he demanded, “why do you two need to drop anything off for them?”

Twist walked around him, and Slim used the clicker to pop the trunk, smiling cheekily when Cash dropped his skull to glare at him. Twist loaded the boxed pastries into the back and shut the trunk. He draped an arm around Cash’s shoulders, earning a growl. “’S nice, sweetheart. ‘S a nice thing ta do. Tha’s why.”

Cash huffed, unbent. “give me my keys. i’m not letting either of you drive my car.”

Slim looked at Twist, wavering. Sighing, Twist shrugged. “Sorry, darlin’. Guess we’re hoofin’ it.”

Sighing, Slim passed the keys to Cash, who snatched them up. He eyed them both, then unlocked the doors, slipping into the driver’s seat. When neither of them moved, he rolled down the window and demanded, “are we doing this or not?”

They scrambled over each other, running for the car. Twist called shotgun, but Cash refused to unlock the door for him until he agreed to sit in the back. In front, Slim immediately hooked his phone up to the radio and started playing something fast and hard, the bass strong enough to vibrate their bones. Twist grinned and rolled down his window to lean out of it—but pulled his head in when Cash started to roll it back up. He activated the child locks after that, leaving Twist to futilely punch the window controls. “Glad ya decided ta join us, sweetheart.”

“go fuck yourself.”

“Love you too, Patches.” He leaned forward, head between the two front seats. He winked at Slim and said, “Ain’t he sweet? Can’t hardly keep from blushin’ with ‘im around.”

Slim, smiling, looked to Cash and said, quite earnestly, “he’s always been nice to me.”

The engine revved and a hot purple flush graced Cash’s cheekbone. Smiling slyly, Twist reached around the back of Slim’s seat for a fist-bump. Cash just cleared his throat. “well? where are we going?”

Twist cocked his head, considering. “Red’s apartment first.” Cash nodded sharply and pulled out of the driveway, driving faster than was really reasonable in a residential area, but Twist wasn’t about to criticize. Soon enough, they pulled up to an apartment complex, and Cash pulled in to the spot marked with Red’s number. He got out with a disgruntled huff, crossing his arms and following Twist and Slim up the walk. They took the stairs to the second floor and knocked briskly on his door. From the other side, Red asked who it was. There was really only one appropriate answer.

“Stripper gram!”

Cash facepalmed while Slim snickered. The lock clicked open, though, and Red surveyed the trio. “stripper gram, huh? then why am i so disappointed?”

“ ‘Cause we ain’t started strippin’ yet.”

Red shook his head, amused, and held out a hand to accept the box Slim offered. “thanks, but i think i’ll jus’ take the cookies.” He hefted it, peeking inside. His eyelights settled on Twist and he asked, “so, i guess this means ‘berry’s takin’ things pretty hard?”

Twist’s smile went still and stiff. He crossed his arms and shrugged, scuffing one foot against Red’s porch. “Yeah. ‘m meetin’ up with ‘im an’ Pap an’ Blue ta talk in a few days.” Papyrus had said Blue should be over his heat by Saturday, so they’d agreed to meet at Cerulean’s that night. Twist wasn’t precisely looking forward to it, but ‘Berry had only been getting worse and worse as the week wore on, culminating in last night’s baking spree. He rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll, uh, figure sumthin’ out. Pap an’ Blue c’n help ‘im out.”

Red nodded, his own eyelights dim. “yeah. tha’s…tha’s good.” He cleared his throat and looked away, then scratched under his mandible, trying for casual as he asked, “you, uh, you heard from boss lately?”

“Yeah—we’ve been goin’ runnin’, same as usual.”

“an’ he’s…he’s doin’ okay?”

Twist lifted his chin, thinking. “Far as I c’n tell,” he said honestly. Edge was always reserved, always tightly wound and tight lipped. He hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. “Rus’s got ‘im, sweetheart. They’ll take care ‘a each other.”

Red nodded, though Twist could tell he hadn’t eased his mind entirely. “good. yeah. i know.” He cleared his throat, then focused on Cash and Slim.

Sensing his concern, Twist looped an arm over Cash’s shoulders and knuckled the top of his skull, ignoring his protests. “Don’ worry ‘bout grumpy bones ‘ere. I’ll look after ‘im.” Cash growled and elbowed him, knocking a few HP points off. “Aw, c’mon now. That ain’t very nice.”

Cash just glared at him and dusted himself off, clearly disgruntled. Red was grinning at their antics, though. His shoulders weren’t strung quite as taut anymore, and that was good. Then he looked to Slim and asked, “what about you, bro? you got someone…?”

Slim hesitated, and Cash went very still under Twist’s arm. Slim looked away from all of them, dipping his hand into a pocket to retrieve a sucker. He unwrapped it with clumsy fingers, shaking his head as he did. “well.” Red coughed, arms crossed. He looked uncomfortable and unhappy. “ya got my number if ya need it, yeah?”

Sticking the sucker in his mouth, Slim nodded, then said, “same.” They bumped fists companionably, and Twist could feel the tension in Cash’s shoulders. He squeezed them, but Cash just threw his arm off and stomped down the steps.

“you two coming or not?”

Twist shrugged for Red’s benefit. “Looks like we gotta be goin’. Later, sweetheart!”

Red waved them off, and they trailed Cash back to the car. Only for Cash to toss his keys to Slim and say, “just remembered. i’ve got an appointment to get to. don’t crash it and don’t let the idiot drive.” Then he took a shortcut and disappeared.

Trying for cheerful, Twist shoved his hands in his pockets and sidled up beside Slim, knocking their shoulders together. “So, we’re takin’ it fer joyride after all this, right? I c’n call in sick, it’ll be—“

Slim was looking at the keys, shoulders hunched. Twist sighed, silently cursing Cash’s prickly personality. He looped an arm over Slim’s shoulders and pulled him in, resting his chin on top of Slim’s skull. “Sorry, darlin’. If ya gimme the keys, I c’n handle the rest. Promise not ta get pulled over or ta crash it.” Slim shook his head, but he didn’t move. “Ya wanna talk ‘bout it?”

He shook his head again, turning his skull into Twist’s chest. He sighed, sockets shut, then he pulled away and wordlessly got into the car. Twist planted a hand on the hood and slid across it to the other side, scrambling to his feet after he tumbled to the ground. It earned him a smile from Slim, though, so it was worth it. He dusted himself off and slipped into the front seat, pushing it back so his legs would have more room. Slim was a little shorter than Cash, so he had to readjust the mirrors. As he did, he asked, “so…about that joyride?”

Twist grinned.

Chapter Text

Sans opened the door and smiled at the two tall skeletons on his doorstep. He leaned against the doorframe and greeted them both with fist bumps. “heya, girlscouts—what’s this? selling cookies already?”

Twist grinned. “Sure, thing, darlin’. If you’ve got the dough, we’ve got the doughnuts.”

Slim handed him a pastry box, looking past his shoulder. He tugged on his sleeve, fingers slipping inside to rub his ulna. “where’s…?” Slim fell silent, and Sans tried not to let his face freeze into a rictus. Underground, Slim and Razz’s relationship had been strained to say the least. They were on the surface now, but Slim still had trouble addressing his brother by name rather than title. Sans tried not to let it bother him, tried to tell himself that they were getting better, but really, it was best if he didn’t think about them at all.

“he’s back in the bedroom. you wanna talk to him?” Slim flinched a little and looked away. Sans’ soul ached. “how about i tell him you stopped by? wished him well?” Shoulders dropping, Slim nodded in relief.

“yeah. thanks.”

Twist tipped an imaginary hat, then linked arms with Slim and said, “Enjoy the cookies, darlin’. Make sure Razz gets a taste, huh?”

“don’t worry—i’ll look after him.” With that, he shut the door and opened the box, grinning when he saw the various treats inside. Razz was gonna be so pissed—he hated having sweets in the house, since he tended to over-indulge his sweet-tooth. “babe?” he called, heading back to the bedroom with the box. He paused in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. “brought you something.”

Miserable, Razz looked up from the nest he’d made of the blankets. “You didn’t tell them, did you?” he demanded, his eyelights unfocused and hazed.

Smirking, Sans sauntered over and set the box on the bedside table. He slid into the nest, wrapping his arms around Razz. Despite himself, the smaller skeleton exhaled shakily and snuggled into him, his bones trembling. “of course not, sweets.” Razz groaned burying his face in Sans’ cervical vertebrae nonetheless.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled.

“but you’re so sweet; what else am i supposed to call you?” He snickered at his own joke, grinning when Razz pulled back just enough to glare at him. His eyelights were dilated, nearly filling his sockets. Sweat beaded on his bones, and his soul was heavy and bright in his chest, shining a beautiful shade of violet. Sans’ magic gathered in his mouth, enticed by the sight.

Seeing his expression, Razz’s eyelights dilated further and his soul pulsed, clear fluid leaking from it and dripping down his spine. In contrast to his obvious need, Razz pulled away from Sans and wrapped himself in the blankets, shivering violently. “Go ‘way,” he mumbled, “I’m sick. I don’t want you to catch it.”

“razz, i told you…you’re not sick. you’re in heat.”

“No.” Razz shuddered. “I’m not.”

Sans sighed. “okay, look…you’re definitely in heat. and i can help you feel better if you just—“ Sans reached for him, but Razz pulled into a tight ball, still shivering.

“Go. Away.”

“it’s my bed too, babe. my house. don’t know where you think i’m gonna go.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“nope. took the week off because my bonehead of a bonefriend is in heat and in need of—“

“I swear if you finish that, I’m going to—“ Razz groaned and curled in on himself, a soft whine escaping him.

Sans scooted closer, reaching out to rub Razz’s back. “cramps?” he asked.

“I’m not in heat!” Razz snarled, then curled tighter and shuddered as another cramp wracked him. Sans sighed and pulled away, sitting up. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to figure out what to do. So far, he’d only managed to upset Razz further—and that was only going to make everything worse.

So, with a sigh, he held up a placating hand. “okay, okay. fine. you’re not in heat. but you need to eat, right? looks like you’re losing magic, so you need to replenish it. and it just so happens that i’ve got some nice fresh donuts for you.”

“I hate donuts.”

Sans rolled his eyelights. “uh-huh. yeah. that’s why they always disappear when i buy them.” He pulled the box over and opened it. Razz peered out from his blanket cowl, eyelights glittering. “but, you know, i’m happy to eat these all by myself.” He studied the selection of sweets, keeping an eyelight on Razz. When he went into heat, he always craved sweet and salty foods, and it felt like he was always hungry. He was banking on Razz being similar enough to himself that he’d feel the same.

It seemed to be working, too. Razz watched with keen, eager eyelights as Sans pulled a donut from the box. Maple and bacon flavor, it looked like. He didn’t even manage to take a bite before Razz scooted over and studied the box. “Maybe just one….”

Sans shrugged, as if he didn’t care. Razz could get prickly about the weirdest things. Getting too excited or acting worried would put him off. Better to pretend he just didn’t care one way or another. He pushed the box closer, and Razz surveyed the contents. He chose a chocolate croissant, nibbling on the corner delicately. His blanket slipped a bit, revealing one flushed collarbone. He’d stripped off all his clothes while they slept, and despite his insistence that he was just sick, he hadn’t pulled them back on yet. It gave Sans an idea.

He finished off the donut, licking his fingers—and ignoring Razz’s disgusted expression. Rolling his shoulders, he tugged off his shirt, letting his bones go limp and relaxed as he reclined on the bed. Still picking at the croissant, Razz’s gaze fixed on him. He tilted his head back and started to rub at his lowest rib, moaning lightly. Razz squeaked, scrambling away from him. “What are you doing?!” he demanded.

“what? told you, sweets, it’s my bedroom too. unless you want me to go rub one out on the couch.”

“What? No! But—“ He shivered, watching Sans’ hand as he continued to stroke over his ribcage. He trailed the other down his spine, fingering the sensitive inner vertebrae. Razz swallowed hard. “Do you have to do that right now?”

“is it bugging you?”

“Yes.” His eyelights fixed on Sans’ hands, the half-eaten croissant forgotten for the moment.

“you sure? ‘cause it looks like you see something you like~.”

Razz’s sockets narrowed. “I’m sick, you pervert. And all you can think about is…” He swallowed again, his soul visibly pulsing. He bent, rubbing his sternum as if it pained him. “…stars,” he whined, “what’s wrong with me?”

He sounded so pathetic that Sans felt guilty for trying to manipulate him a moment before. He pulled his hand out of his ribcage and sat up, reaching for him. “razz, look. no, really—look at me. you’re not sick, okay? you’re in heat.” He shook his head, but Sans caught his skull in his hands. “it’s okay. it is. there’s nothing wrong with you. this is normal.”

Razz looked up at him, his sockets wide and frightened. “What if I don’t want this to be normal?” he asked, voice choked. “I never wanted this. I never asked for it. I never—it’s not supposed to be like this. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not to me. It’s not…it’s not fair.”

Sans closed his sockets and reached out to him, pulling him in for a hug. Again, Razz melted against him, nuzzling into his cervical vertebrae. “i’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say. He rubbed Razz’s back, holding him tightly. “but i’m here for you, okay? i know what it’s like. i’ve been in heat a few times myself. i know it sucks. i know it hurts…but i’m here to help.”

Razz’s arms squeezed him, tight enough it was almost painful. “I don’t want this,” he said again, voice cracking.

Sans’ soul ached. “i know, sweets. i know. whatever you need, though, i’m here for you. even if all you want is tea and cookies or whatever.” He winced. He knew it would be better for Razz if they were intimate—even just soul massage could help with the cramps—but he wasn’t going to push him for that, even if it was in his own best interest. “just remember; you’ve still got a choice here, huh? you don’t have to do anything. you still get a say.”

Razz shivered and snuggled closer. “…Can we? Just…just act like I’m sick? Please. I don’t…I don’t want to be in heat.”

“sure.” He kissed the top of his head. “you want soup? it’s supposed to be good for a cold.”

“And suffer through that canned monstrosity you call food? No.”

Sans snorted. “i was thinking about take-out, but—“

“…from that Vietnamese place?”

Sans pet along his coronal suture. “sure, why not?”

Razz nodded. “Later.” He snuggled into Sans, bones starting to relax. He felt hot, likely running a fever. Hitching him up against his chest, Sans settled back against the pillows, still petting Razz’s spine. Razz shuddered. Spent mana spilled from his soul, dripping onto Sans’ sternum, hot and viscous. Razz’s sockets went wide and his features flushed. He started to pull away, completely mortified. “Oh, stars,” he moaned, burrowing back into his blanket nest. “This is disgusting. Just…just get out. Leave me alone.”

Sans tried to peel the blanket back. “c’mon, sweets. it’s not that bad. it’s just a bit of magic discharge. same thing happens when we’re fucking. it’s not a big deal—“

“It’s a big deal to me!”

Sighing, Sans sat back on his heels, rubbing the back of his neck. He just…he didn’t know what to do. Physical contact would help, even if they weren’t intimate. Soul sex would be best, of course, but complete isolation was only going to make Razz more miserable. “razz….”

“Just…go away, Sans.”

Sans flinched. “…i’m here to help—“

“I don’t want your help! I just want it to stop.”

Leaving felt wrong. Staying felt worse. “right. well.” Slowly, he drew away and climbed off the bed. His hands hung at his sides, limp and useless. “i’ll call in the order at lunch. pastries’re on the bedside table. call me if you need me. i’ll…be in the living room. watching netflix. or something.”

Razz didn’t say anything, and the lump under the covers just shivered in response.

His joints were swollen and achy, and he felt cold, even though he knew he had to be burning up. Sweat beaded on his bones, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get his soul to dispel. To his distress, it continued to leak steadily, the sticky magic gumming up his spine and ribs. It was disgusting. He was disgusting.

Another cramp rolled through him, and Razz shuddered, the pain causing him to curl in on himself. This was a special kind of hell, he decided. A special kind of hell that absolutely no one deserved. He felt like crying, but refused to allow himself that luxury. He was the Maleficent Razz! He would not cry over something like this, wouldn’t allow his own body to subdue him.

Nevertheless, the temptation lingered. Certainly, he’d faced worse—Swapfell was not an especially forgiving universe—but he’d always been able to do something about it. It was only a week, he reminded himself. A week at most, and then he’d be back to his maleficent self.

He winced. He’d have to take time off from the embassy. Despite ordering Sans not to tell anyone, they’d know. Or, at least, they’d guess. Out for a week? Just after his cross-universal counterpart had his own heat? Of course they’d guess. And that, somehow, was just as bad as the cramps rolling through his soul and the constant, steady drip of magic down his spine.

He lay amongst the sheets, growing increasingly uncomfortable and unhappy. The sheets seemed damp and sticky, from a combination of spent magic and sweat. And they stank. He stank. The smell of magic was thick and cloying—a sickening combination of musky and sweet that only made him feel all the worse. Hunger clawed at his soul, and he finally gave in, snatching a donut from the pastry box and hating himself for it.

He was supposed to be above this sort of thing…but he had to admit the donut was good. Perfectly cooked. The dough was light and fluffy, and just sweet enough. The frosting was nearly too sweet, but in this mood, his body decided it was actually perfect and, in fact, he needed another.

He wasn’t going to eat it. He wasn’t. He absolutely wasn’t.

…it wouldn’t really hurt, would it? He was losing a lot of magic because of the discharge from his soul. It was fine to indulge a little, right?

Groaning in frustration, he flopped onto his front and raked his claws over his skull. He hated everything about this whole thing. This was completely miserable and...he wanted Sans. Cuddling up to him earlier had been the only thing that made him feel remotely okay since this whole thing started. He squeezed his sockets shut. But he was disgusting right now and completely out of control. Sans wouldn’t want him clinging to him like that. Sans had to know he was gross and disgusting—he was just being nice. He was Tale-verse; they did that, stars knew why.

Again, he wanted to cry, the frustration simply too much for him. Instead, he shut his sockets and exhaled slowly—then shuddered when another cramp made his body clench.

The door creaked open. “heya, sweets. it’s lunch time. got chicken pho from the vietnamese place down the way.”

Sans’ presence made something inside of him clench—not a cramp, but close. He pulled the blankets more tightly around himself. He didn’t want Sans to see him like this. He always wanted to be his best for his…. Well. For Sans. Swallowing, he asked, “Can you bring me a bowl?”

“sure.” The door clicked shut and Razz sat up, trying to arrange himself so he could eat with at least a little dignity. As soon as he was arranged to his satisfaction, Sans slipped through the doorway, carrying a bowl of soup.

Magic pooled in Razz’s mouth. He suddenly didn’t care much about the food, though he’d been starving mere minutes ago. Sans had put his shirt back on, and he was wearing that ratty hoodie again, but looking at him only made the fever thrumming through his bones grew stronger. He shivered, swallowing down the magic that flooded his mouth. He crossed his legs, feeling magic start to pool in his pelvis as well. He didn’t need this right now. He was gross and disgusting—how could Sans possibly want to be near him, let alone want him like that?

So he tried his best to swallow down the magic and ignore the press of Sans’ femur against his hip when he sat beside him on the bed. He took the bowl of soup and sipped the broth, shivering again. Sans leaned against him, and Razz went stiff under his hand, the magic in his pelvis starting to thicken and congeal. He tugged the blanket around himself more tightly, hoping Sans wouldn’t notice the glow.

“how’re you feeling?” Razz grumbled something unintelligible. Sans nodded and slipped an arm around him. Even through the blanket, Razz’s bones grew even hotter wherever he touched. “not great, huh? it, uh…it’s not so bad if you’re with someone, you know?” Razz knew. He was hyper-aware of every touch to his fevered bones, of Sans’ breathing. Shame again made him curl in on himself. He reeked of sweat and spent magic; there was no way Sans hadn’t noticed.

“…I wouldn’t ask that of you,” he finally said, taking another sip of the broth.

“what?”

Razz lowered the bowl. “I’m—“ Another cramp rolled through him, and he groaned, clutching at his sternum.

“razz?”

He shook his head. “It’s—it’s fine. But…I’m not at my best right now. I don’t expect you to stay for this.”

Sans went very, very still beside him. “you think…you think i’m just going to leave you? in the middle of your heat?”

Razz raised a brow-bone. He could count on one hand the number of times that Sans had ever sounded angry, so he was rather shocked to hear the suppressed rage in his voice. “Why would you want to stay? I’m—stars, I’m leaking magic all over the place and I’m sweaty and gross—why would you stay?”

“because i love you and i can help you feel better!”

“How could you possible help?”

Sans’ hand slipped under the blanket and into his ribcage. Razz froze, and his fingers curled around his soul. “like this,” he said, thumbing the crease.

Oh. Oh stars….

Razz clutched at his hand, scrambling to put the soup on the bedside table. The fire in his joints jumped higher, magic flooding the nodes along his whole body. Bone by bone, node by node, his body went limp, until he was pressed flush against Sans, chin on his shoulder. “S-sans….”

Those clever fingers paused. “do you want me to stop?”

“No, stars, no—please. Keep doing that.”

“feels good?”

Razz shut his sockets and nodded, shivering. “Yeah. Feels…really good.” Sans nuzzled against him, and Razz whined, wrapping his arms around him. “What is this?” he asked, panic starting to creep back in. “What’s happening to me?”

“shhh. it’s okay. you’re in heat. it can either be really good or really bad. it’s your choice, sweets. you want me to keep doing this? making you feel good? or do you want to curl up and mope?”

Razz was still enough himself to glare. “I wasn’t moping—“

Sans kissed his cheekbone. “nah, i know you weren’t.” He kissed the edge of his mandible, and Razz whimpered. “but you don’t have to spend the week feeling miserable.” Razz tilted his head back and Sans kissed down his cervical vertebrae. “you can let me take care of you.” He carefully tugged Razz’s soul free and gave it a gentle kiss as well. Affection, adoration, love, and care flooded his soul. “make you feel good.” A pale blue tongue swiped up his soul from base to peak. Razz cried out, the sensation so intense his vision went black.

“sound good, sweets?”

Helpless, he nodded and relaxed into Sans’ embrace, all thoughts of self-disgust forgotten.

Chapter Text

“Papy…this really isn’t necessary.”

Twist held back a sigh and urged his brother forward, fingers itching for a cigarette. He pushed down the craving—he hadn’t had a cigarette in nearly a month now; he wasn’t going to break that streak because Berry was being difficult. “I already told ‘em we were comin’. Ya don’ wann stand ‘em up, do ya?”

“No….” Berry scuffed his feet on the sidewalk, arms crossed. It was past seven, so human tourists were pretty thin on the ground and the shops were starting to close up. A few monsters still walked the streets, though, and Twist waved to them, smiling and nodding as they passed.

When the sidewalk cleared, his smile dropped and he said, “Ya gotta talk ta someone, bro. If ya don’ wanna talk ta me, tha’s fine. But ya gotta talk ta someone, yeah?”

Blackberry huffed and listlessly kicked an empty can. “Don’ wanna talk ta anyone,” he muttered, some of his old accent starting to slip into his speech. Twist flinched and bent down to scoop up the can, tossing it in the next recycling bin they passed. He had nothing to say to that, so he just fiddled with the gold coin in his pocket, rolling it between his fingers as they walked in silence. Up ahead, Cerulean’s loomed, the lettering glowing the same soft blue as the bar’s owner and namesake.

As soon as he made it topside, Underswap’s Grillby took the name Cerulean and went about remaking himself, taking pains to mend his somewhat sullied reputation. Always a savvy businessman, he’d ditched the less savory aspects of his old business and dumped his seedier regulars—there were uglier, harder places for such monsters to congregate in now anyway. If he wanted to remain competitive, then he had to attract a new clientele. Thus, Cerulean’s had been born.

The cool cobalt, teal, and cerulean paints, fabrics, glass, and light fixtures gave the place its own character, and the showy tricks employed by his bartenders often drew a crowd. The bar had few regulars, but it was never empty. Essentially, it was the kind of place that the other skeletons wouldn’t be caught dead it, so it was perfect for their meeting. Twist had made it clear to both Papyrus and Blue that anything they discussed tonight was to remain private. Berry was already torn up about the whole ordeal—they didn’t need to complicate things by involving everyone.

The music playing inside the bar was low-key and soothing, but Twist’s shoulders remained tense and stiff as they stepped inside. He squeezed Berry’s shoulder, but he didn’t react to the gesture. Behind the bar, a blue fire elemental—his fingers flashing with rings of molten gold and one ear flashing with a diamond stud—waved as they came in. Spotting the others, Twist pushed his brother to go sit with them, promising, “I’ll get our drinks.”

Berry didn’t reply, just trudged across the room like a condemned man. Watching him go made Twist’s soul ache. He pushed his apprehension down, though, and put on a smile as he walked over to the bar. He leaned on the counter and C walked over to him, one brow raised. “Ya got horseradish?” he asked.

If C thought it was an unusual request, he didn’t let on. “Sure thing, sugar. How do you want that now?”

Twist spine tingled and his smile became roguish, more flirtatious. He’d always had a thing for fire elementals. “On the rocks’d be fine. Little vodka won’ hurt.” He winked and C leaned closer.

“You sure I can’t talk you into something sweeter?” He propped his cheek on his hand. “It’s my specialty.”

He shook his head mournfully. “Not this time, sweetheart. Ain’t got much of a sweet tooth, but I jus’ might let ya talk me inta sumthin’ I c’n regret later. Another night.”

C giggled. “Oh, I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.” He smirked, looking Twist up and down. “Maybe a hand as well.”

Twist laughed hard. “Lookin’ forward to it, darlin’. Now….” He glanced back at the booth, where his brother, Papyrus, and Blue were all talking softly. He swallowed hard. Berry was pulled in on himself and shaking his head, not looking at either Blue or Papyrus. Twist’s smile never wavered, though. “Put sumthin’ sweet an’ spicy in glass too, if ya can. Fer my bro. ‘e needs a little liquid courage, I think.”

C followed his gaze to the booth. “I think I’ve got just the thing for it. I’ll be over in a moment.” He slid a tumbler of vodka and horseradish over, and Twist took it, nodding his thanks. He wove through the tables, trying not to jostle the other patrons.

As soon as he took a seat at the booth, Berry turned to glare at him. “Do you have to flirt with everyone?”

Twist ignored the looks Papyrus and Blue were exchanging and fought back a wince. “Aw, c’mon, bro. It was just a bit ‘a fun. Nuthin’ serious.” Berry huffed, and his expression made it clear that he was Very Disappointed and that They Would Be Discussing This Later. Twist really hated that look. He turned away and took a drink, not sure if it was the vodka or the horseradish burning the back of his throat. He shouldn’t have started anything with C. He really shouldn’t have. He was trying to get Berry to relax, not incite him further. “Sorry, bro,” he said softly, reaching out to scrub the top of his skull. Berry batted his hand away, but his features did lose the pinched, unhappy expression he’d been sporting.

…until C swung by and dropped off a tall red drink, sporting one of those little umbrellas. Hip cocked, he surveyed the group. “And how are you boys doing this evening?”

Berry glared, but thankfully, Blue took over. He tended bar for C some nights, and they had a long history; he knew how to politely indicate that they needed a little privacy, and C took the hint. He left the drink for Berry, and nodded politely to each of them, smiling at Twist as he left. Without thinking, Twist turned to watch him go.

Berry sighed, and Twist flinched, slouching a little in his seat. He looked to Blue and Papyrus and said, “Uh…maybe I should let the three ‘a you talk, huh?” He was only going to make things worse. Nothing he’d been able to say or do so far had eased any of Berry’s discomfort. In fact, he’d only managed to make it worse.

Papyrus shook his head, taking Twist’s hand. “NO, NO! TWISTED-ME, YOU SHOULD STAY!” Blue and Papyrus shared a look, and Twist realized he may have miscalculated. “WE’D LIKE TO TALK TO YOU AS WELL.”

His hand tightened around his drink, the other curling in his lap. “Ya really don’ gotta do that,” he said, clearing his throat so it didn’t come out in a squeak. “I got ev’rything covered.”

Blue and Papyrus exchanged another look, and Twist knew he’d miscalculated. “Please, Twist? Stay?”

He itched for a cigarette and was instantly grateful that he wasn’t allowed to smoke in here. “Sure thing,” he said, forcing a smile. “If ya wan’ me here, guess I’ll stick ‘round.” They beamed at him, and he took a long drink, savoring the burn of the horseradish and the alcohol.

Papyrus leaned forward, smiling at both of them. He focused on Berry, though, and Twist’s couldn’t help but feel a touch of relief at that; he might have the chance to think of an escape plan in the meantime. “SO, BLACKBERRY…IT SEEMS LIKE YOU’RE A LITTLE NERVOUS ABOUT GOING INTO HEAT.”

Berry went still and stiff beside Twist. He tried to climb over his brother so he could escape, but Twist caught him around the shoulders and held him down. Leaning down, he squeezed Berry’s shoulders and said, “Hey, little bro, c’mon. They’re here to help. Ya gotta talk ‘bout this. It’s gonna happen—“

“I don’t want it to happen!” He sounded so scared and desperate that Twist couldn’t help but wince. He ran a hand down Berry’s back, not sure how else he could comfort him.

“Neither do I,” he confessed, throat tight.

Berry blinked and drew back, as if the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “But you—you’re always flirting and-and you aren’t exactly picky about your—“ His mouth curled with disgust as he spat out, “—‘partners’.”

“That’s different.” He sighed, trying not to look at Blue and Papyrus. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. With anyone. But if he had to have it with Berry, he’d have preferred not to have an audience.

“How?”

He ran a hand over his skull, raking his claws over his coronal suture. “Because I c’n say ‘no’.”

Both Tale-verse monsters sat up straight and exchanged another look. “Wait—“

“TWISTED-ME—“

But Berry drowned them both out. “Can you?”

Twist pulled away from him, sockets wide. He swallowed. Then, taking a deep breath, he pasted on a smile. “Heh. Maybe not—never tried it b’fore.”

Berry shook his head and turned away, disgusted with him. Papyrus coughed, waving to get their attention. “I THINK THERE’S BEEN A MISUNDERSTANDING HERE.”

Twist raised a brow-bone. He thought he’d understood things very well; his brother thought he was a whore. Which, really, wasn’t news, but it still hurt. He just kept smiling, though. “Nah, creampuff. No misunderstandin’. ‘M readin’ Berry loud an’ clear.”

“NO, I MEAN—“

C came by again, surprising all of them when he left a green-tinted drink in front of Twist, a slice of green apple hanging off the rim of the martini glass. “From the lady,” C said, gesturing to the bar. Just as Twist turned to the bar, the scent of apples assaulted him and his soul heaved. He jerked away from the drink like it had stung him, and the woman—the Spider smiled at him, raising a clawed hand and teasingly waving hello.

Magic rushed through his mana lines, pounding in his skull as he stood. His breathing slowed and deepened, and it felt like the world slowed down around him. His head spun, and his body felt too light—like he’d float away if he wasn’t careful. Automatically, he caught Berry’s shoulder and hauled him upright, shoving him into Papyrus’ arms. Daring to look away from the Spider only briefly, he said, “Go home, Sans. Take ‘em with ya. Now.”

“Papy? What’s—?” Berry tried to see around him, but Twist shifted to block his view.

“No arguin’,” he said, voice hard and sharp. “No debate. Jus’ go. Now.” He pulled away from them and shouldered his way through the crowd. The ankle monitor vibrated against his tibia in warning, sensing the fluctuation in his magic levels. No magic, he reminded himself. Not unless he wanted to bring down the police and the mages. No doubt a similar monitor graced her thin ankle, so they were at least on equal footing in that regard.

Her gaze never left him as he approached, her smile growing broader and sharper with every step. A green drink identical to the one she’d sent over to him sat in front of her, and she nibbled delicately at the slice of apple. “Hello, dearie,” she said when he came to stand in front of her. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

He hadn’t been fully sure of his own intentions until that moment. “Think we know each other pretty well, darlin’.” He pulled a barstool out and sat beside her, leaning on the bar and grinning broadly.

She laughed and laid a possessive hand on his arm. He had to repress a full-body shudder. Memories like shards of glass threatened to rise up, but he pushed them down. He couldn’t afford to lose focus here. Her fingers curled around his ulna, her claws pricking the bone. “Oh, Papyrus, you always were so amusing. I mean your surface name. What do I call you here?”

His jaw popped, but his smile stayed in place. His mind raced, running through multiple scenarios—trying to decide how telling her his name could hurt him. Instinct urged him to deny her anything she asked, simply because she asked for it. “You first, sweetheart.”

The claws scraped his ulna as her thumb rubbed over the bone. Rancid magic rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back. She hummed low in her throat. “I always did like it when you called me ‘boss’? Why don’t we stick to that?”

“Sweetheart, you haven’t been my boss fer more’n half a decade.”

Her fingers tightened and his soul beat hard, magic pulsing through his mana lines. “Easily remedied. So? What do you say, dearie?” She leaned forward, catching his chin between her fingers. “Why don’t we start fresh? Forgive and forget.”

He smiled. “I got a better idea, darlin’. Why don’ you take a long walk off a short pier?”

“Is that any way to speak to an old friend?”

“Friend?” He laughed and shifted his skull to highlight the scarring on the side of his face. “Sweetheart, if this is how ya treat yer friends, I’d sure hate ta see what ya do ta yer enemies.”

“Oh, that’s very simple, dearie—I always gave them to you.”

He swallowed hard. His sins were crawling on his back. “Yeah. Ya did, didn’t ya?” He pulled away from her, yanking his arm free. He Checked her and whistled when he saw her LV. “Looks like ya’ve had ta start doin’ yer own dirty work since I been gone, huh? Hope ya didn’ break a nail, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrowed, then her gaze shifted to something over his shoulder and she smirked. Shit. He reached out an arm and caught Berry around the waist, standing up and pulling his little brother against his chest in one smooth motion. Berry growled in frustration, trying to break free of his brother’s hold. “Papy, let me go! Let me—!”

He slapped a hand over Berry’s mouth and stared down at Muffet. She smirked and sipped her drink. “We done here?” he asked.

“I’m just getting started. You and I have unfinished business, Papyrus.”

Berry thrashed in his arms and he tightened his grip, unwilling to let him rush headlong at the Spider. He wanted nothing to do with her, wanted to forget the history they shared. But there were many things he wanted and knew he could never have. “Shoulda killed ya ages ago an’ been done with it.”

Her smile was sweet. “And I should have crushed your skulls when the two of your showed up on my doorstep, starved and desperate.”

“Sure woulda saved us all some pain,” he snapped, hefting Berry onto his shoulder as he turned to go.

“Papy, let me go! Let me—please, Papy, just let me—you know I can take her!” He scratched at Twist’s arm and kicked his ribcage, struggling to free himself. Twist barely felt it. His gaze caught on the door as Papyrus and Blue burst into the bar, out of breath after jogging to catch up to Berry. Time to go—he did not need to involve the sweeter skeletons in this business.

“We aren’t takin’ anyone, Sans. We’re leaving. Now.”

“This isn’t finished, dearie.”

He spun to glare at her. “Yeah? What’re ya gonna do, huh? I know you got some pretty new jewelry ‘round yer ankle, same as I do. ‘Less ya wanna bring the mages down on us, I think we’re done here.”

“I’M SO SORRY, TWISTED-ME. WE TRIED TO HOLD HIM.” Twist cursed silently. He’d taken too long. Muffet’s features lit up, and every bone in his body tensed. Again, he could hear magic rushing through his skull. Everything slowed, and he caught every detail. The way the corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled. Papyrus’ soft breathing beside him. His brother going limp on his shoulder as he too realized what had happened. “OH! HELLO, MISS! I’M THE GREAT PAPYRUS—IT’S LOVELY TO MEET YOU.”

She giggled. “My surface name is Tarantella, since Muffet was already taken. You may call me Ella, though.” She leaned forward and whispered to Twist, like a conspirator, “I did forget how pretty you were before that bit of unfortunate business.” Turning back to Papyrus, she offered a hand and, fluttering her eyes flirtatiously, said, “Perhaps we could get coffee some time—“

Twist dropped one shoulder to let Berry down, shoving him into Blue. He brought his other arm around to grab the side of Muffet’s head and slam it against the bar. He pressed against her, using his whole body to hold her down as he leaned down to hiss, “Stay away from me an’ my people.” He ground her cheek into the bar as he spoke, emphasizing each word. “You un’erstand me?”

She smiled, giggling to herself. Golden magic flooded his damaged socket, dripping down his face and dripping onto the bar. With her free hand, she caught his mandible and pulled him close. “Better than you do.”

His brow-bones furrowed, then he realized the light had changed. Alternating flashes of blue and red came in through the front window, and all the Tale-verse monsters had either scattered or ducked under the tables—Blue and Papyrus, busy restraining Berry, were the only ones that hadn’t taken cover. “Shit,” he muttered, realizing all at once what this must look like. Twist was much bigger than Muffet, and his LV was higher, if only a little. He also looked Fell—from the scars on his face to the scuffed shit kickers he wore—while she managed to look like she’d stepped out of a Tale-verse—dolled up in pink and purple, her makeup perfect, and her features unmarred. Without performing a Check, the ankle monitor would be the only thing to reveal her more sinister nature.

Stepping away from her, he raised his hands high above his head. “Jus’ a misunderstandin’, officers,” he said, speaking clearly as he backed away.

“Then you won’t have any problem getting on your knees and putting your hands behind your head,” a feminine voice said. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees and put his hands on his head. Callused fingers tugged on his wrists, and he winced as the monster-grade cuffs snapped around each wrist. He caught movement out of the corner of his socket and he turned his head, only to see C crouched under a nearby table. His phone was in his hand, and his fingers shook as he put it away. His gaze never left Twist, fear causing his blue flames to grow pale and sickly-looking.

Twist shut his sockets, wincing as he was hauled to his feet with his hands behind his back.

Chapter Text

Edge fell easily into a routine. He carefully calculated out how much magic he generally expended in a day and how much a skeleton of his size required for subsistence. From those numbers, he was able to estimate how much he could safely cut out of his diet—carefully maintaining that delicate balance between too much and too little. He didn’t want to go into heat—not yet, not now, but later yes; this wasn’t permanent this was only temporary, really—but he didn’t want to collapse in the middle of class either, and he didn’t want to stop any of his normal activities.

So he’d get up early and run for a few extra miles before swinging by Twist’s house to join him for the rest of their run. He ate breakfast before Rus got up, halving his normal portion. But Rus couldn’t suspect anything if there were dirty dishes in the sink, even if he did complain that he missed eating breakfast with him. He’d just waved off his complaints and packed his lunch like always—a simple salad and leftovers from the night before, usually. He never ate the leftovers, but Rus didn’t need to know that. It hurt the part of him that had grown up without, the part that knew other people still had to go without, but he’d generally toss the leftovers at lunch. He ate the salad, though he set the dressing aside.

Dinner was harder. Soup was easy enough—he could fill his bowl primarily with broth without Rus noticing. Anything more substantial was difficult, but he had his tricks. Smashing down the mashed potatoes so the mound didn’t look as tall. Cutting up the meat and pushing it around his plate. Stirring the vegetables around and pushing them off to the side. And actually eating was important, too. Not everything. Never everything, but enough that it wasn’t alarming to see leftovers on his plate. Rus knew his history, which made everything more difficult. So far, though, he’d only pushed him once, and Edge was able to claim that he’d had a hard day, and Rus hadn’t pursued the matter further.

By his calculations, he was doing well, but Saturday would complicate things further. He’d be spending the day with Rus—to make up for skipping out on him last Sunday—and Rus would be watching him. He’d have to deviate from his careful calculations. He’d run the extra few miles before meeting up with Twist, and he could feel the familiar pull on his soul as he climbed the stairs to take a shower. The strain felt good; it soothed his anxiety and quieted the voice that insisted he was going to go into heat if he didn’t stick exactly to his regimented schedule.

One day. He could give Rus one day, and so long as he didn’t overindulge, it wouldn’t set him back very far at all.

He ducked under the spray of hot water and reiterated that to himself, silencing the niggling voice at the back of his mind. The water washed away the red-tinted sweat beading on his bones and steam filled his thoracic cavity. It felt good, the water hot enough it nearly hurt. He’d be fine. He could enjoy a day out with his boyfriend.

Shutting off the water, he stepped out of the tub and dried off, running the soft terrycloth between his bones. When he was dry enough to know he wouldn’t drip on the carpet, he wrapped a towel around his hips and stepped out into the bedroom. The lump under the covers stirred, and he couldn’t keep the soft smile from his face. “Good morning, lazybones.”

Rus groaned, peeking out from under the covers. “hhng…come back to bed. it’s too early to be up yet.”

“It’s eight thirty.”

“see? way too early. ‘m not complaining about the view, though.”

Edge rolled his eyelights and unceremoniously dropped the towel to start getting dressed. Rus whistled, and Edge flipped him off for it. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready to join me.”

“…that’s not a metaphor for oral, is it?”

Shaking his head, Edge walked over to the bed and kissed Rus, cupping the side of his face. His soul swelled, growing warm and light. He pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. “No, dearest. It’s a metaphor for cleaning the house so we can go out later. And if you help, then we’ll have more time for our date. It’s up to you, of course,” he said, his voice overly saccharine.

Rus grinned. “so what you’re saying is, i can stay here and sleep in?”

Edge patted his cheekbone. “Try it. See what happens.”

They kissed again, and Rus allowed Edge to haul him to his feet. He yawned and scooped a dirty tank top out of the hamper to pull on. Edge looked skyward, pained, but he didn’t protest. Rus could wear dirty clothes to clean the house if he liked. But he’d certainly be changing his clothes before they went out. Edge would make sure of that.

Still half-asleep, Rus went to start the laundry, while Edge put away anything that had found its way out of its proper place during the week. Rus vacuumed, and Edge did everything else, and within a couple hours, their small condo met Edge’s strident standards. He shoved Rus under the showerhead, insisting he get clean before they head out. “where’re we going, anyway?” Rus asked, raising his voice to be heard over the water. Edge was out in the bedroom, searching through Rus’ clothing for something appropriate.

“You’ll see,” he called back. He pulled a pair of black jeans from the dresser and an orange flannel shirt from the closet. Smirking, he also pulled a rust-colored jacket from Rus’ absurd collection. ‘Absurd’ because of the ridiculous number of orange hoodies and because of the various patterns and decals they bore. This one boasted black arms and a pair of fox ears on the hood. It seemed appropriate for the occasion.

Rus emerged and eyed the outfit on the bed. “you picking my clothes for me now, edgelord?”

“Only because I can’t trust you not to dig something out of the hamper. You’re free to wear whatever you like—just as long as it’s clean. I thought I’d remove the temptation.”

Pulling on the pants—without making some kind of innuendo, miraculously—Rus eyed him contemplatively. “so we aren’t going anywhere too fancy,” he observed, “or you’d have made me wear a suit.”

Edge leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “As if you would. Considering how much you seem to enjoy it when I wear a suit, I thought you’d be more willing to return the favor.”

Smirking, Rus pulled on the jacket. “ah, c’mon, precious. don’t pretend you don’t think i’m a stone-cold fox.” To punctuate the pun, he pulled the hood up and winked.

Rolling his eyelights, Edge tugged on the hood, temporarily blinding Rus. “Never mind. Our date is cancelled. Go back to bed.”

Laughing, Rus wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in, nuzzling the side of his face. “spending a day in bed with you doesn’t sound like much of a punishment.”

Groaning to hide his own begrudging amusement, Edge slipped his arms around Rus’ waist and ribcage. “I’m sure I could think of something,” he said. They kissed, and Rus pulled back, the corners of his sockets crinkled in a genuine smile.

For a moment, Edge’s soul swelled, aching. He cupped the side of Rus’ face. There were so many things he wanted to say in that moment. That he was so grateful for Rus. That he loved him so much it made his chest hurt. That he was so terrified of losing him or hurting him or disappointing him or—

Instead, he gave him another kiss, this one soft and brief. He stroked his thumb over Rus’ mandible, then he pulled away and cleared his throat. “Come on. We don’t want to get stuck in lunchtime traffic.”

“you could tell me where we’re going and i could teleport there—“

“No.” Rus hadn’t been there anyway, and Edge wanted to keep it a surprise.

Since Rus still refused to get on the back of Edge’s motorcycle, they took the car. As they drove, Rus pointed out various places of interest around Ebott, hoping to guess their destination by pure chance. Edge just kept saying ‘no’, until Rus finally said, “the zoo?”

“No.”

“…edgelord, we’re pulling into the parking lot.”

Edge parked and pulled the key out of the ignition, looking over at his lover. “My apologies; being with you, I’m so accustomed to saying ‘no’ that I temporarily forgot how to say ‘yes’.”

Rus bounced in his seat, his sockets wide. “aw, man—i’ve been wanting to come here for months! i thought you weren’t interested?”

Edge coughed, cheekbones alight. “I was…misinformed. As to the nature of the zoo here.”

Blinking, Rus looked at him, one brow-bone raised. “what did you think it was?”

His cheekbones brightened further. “It’s not important. The important thing is—they’re very highly regarded and, by all accounts, their animals are treated very well. And you’ve been wanting to go.” He really didn’t want to talk to his Tale-verse boyfriend about being forced to tour Asgore’s ‘menagerie’ when they were still Underground. It wasn’t really a memory he wanted to revisit, and certainly not one he wanted to burden Rus with.

That answer didn’t look like it was going to satisfy Rus, so Edge stepped out of the car and walked around to his side, opening his door for him—signaling an end to the conversation. Rus probably didn’t like it, but when Edge offered his hand, Rus took it and allowed the subject to drop. He laced their fingers together, squeezing. Edge kept his control hand free, though, and he couldn’t suppress the urge to keep an eye out as they crossed the parking lot. Rus chuckled. “you’re not on duty, edgelord. relax.”

Edge offered a tight nod, but he was keenly aware that they weren’t in Monstertown anymore. If they got into a bad spot, Rus could likely teleport them out, but that didn’t mean he was willing to drop his guard. “Just…stay close.”

Rus shook his head, fondly exasperated. Edge didn’t say anything, keenly aware of the differences between them. Rus had likely never had to stand between an angry crowd and a hated king, had likely never felt the spark of muted hatred in the air, or seen how quickly violence could erupt from a previously peaceable crowd. And Edge was grateful for that. So, so grateful. Angel willing, Rus would never experience those things. Edge, on the other hand, could never forget them, so he watched their surroundings keenly.

He took note of the group of teenagers passing a water bottle between them—smuggled alcohol, no doubt—and the security guard that eyed him and Rus as they passed through the gate. He watched the mothers and fathers that caught their breath when Edge and Rus passed them, saw the way they pulled their children close. He noticed the staring of the children and the way others—adults, adolescents, college kids—would whisper to each other as they passed.

Rus didn’t see it. He didn’t notice. Or, if he noticed, he was doing a wonderful impression of blissful ignorance. He took a map from the ticket-booth attendant and studied it as they passed the gate, pointing to various exhibits and babbling excitedly about the wildlife on display. It brought a small smile to Edge’s mouth, despite his lingering unease. “Where do you want to start?” he asked, still watching the passersby. Stars above, were they really the only monsters here?

“they have a big cat exhibit—why don’t we start there?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Edge eyed the map, then glanced at the signs. Rus kept hold of his hand, and Edge led the way, navigating around the milling humans. Again, he ignored the stares and the muffled exclamations. When they reached the entrance to the big cat area, though, Rus made an excited sound and darted forward, dragging Edge along. It was startling, but Edge couldn’t hold back a small smile. It was rare to see his boyfriend this excited about anything, and he was delighted to be there to witness it.

Rus ran from enclosure to enclosure, leaning on the railing and searching the well-designed habitats for the animals. A desert enclosure housed a sleeping sandcat, only the tuft of an ear visible from his burrow. The caracals were housed as a mated pair, and on seeing them curled together, Rus dug his phone out of his pocket to take pictures. Edge rolled his eyelights, but he was smiling. “Are you documenting our date for your followers?”

He paused, no doubt in the middle of picking the right filter. “no!” He hastily shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Edge snorted, guiding him to the next enclosure. If they weren’t in public, he’d have kissed him on the cheek. “Go ahead.”

His smile grew slowly. “really?”

Loftily, Edge said, “So long as I’m not in any of the pictures, you can post whatever you like.” Even if Edge didn’t understand it—and even if aspects of it made him nervous—he tried to be supportive. It made Rus happy, and as Papyrus had pointed out, Rus’ social media presence did more to normalize the presence of monsters on the surface than they might expect.

Giddy now that he had permission to live tweet their date, Rus pulled his phone back out and started posting immediately. He took copious pictures of the clouded leopard and the tiger on display, trying to find the perfect angle of each. Edge just shook his head, smiling even as he kept an eye on the humans around them. Rus snickered when they reached the manul cat’s enclosure, though, asking, “hey. what’s your bro’s twitter handle?” Edge raised a brow-bone. “right, never mind. i’ll find him.”

“Why do you need it?” Edge asked, baffled.

“because…” Rus held the phone up to take a picture, snickering to himself. “i need to tag him in this.” Edge almost asked ‘why’ again, then he took a look at the cat. He grit his jaw, trying not to laugh. “you see it, don’t you?”

“Shut. Up.”

“but you do—?”

“Yes,” he hissed, “I see it.”

They looked at each other, and Rus wiggled his brow-bones. At that, Edge finally had to admit defeat and gave in to the urge to laugh. From the heavy fur coat, to the cat’s snaggled tooth and mean expression, it looked exactly like Red. Edge couldn’t have said so himself, but now that Rus had pointed it out, he couldn’t unsee it, and he couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up.

As he finally got control of himself, he saw Rus peering at him from behind his phone. “you should laugh more often, precious. suits you.” He turned his phone around, displaying the picture he’d just taken of Edge. Between the easy smile and the crinkled sockets, he barely recognized himself.

Clearing his throat, he looked away, a warm red blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Yes. Well. I hope you know better than to post that.”

Rus’ arm slipped around his waist, landing on his ilium. He rubbed the crest with the pad of his thumb, smoothing down any feathers he may have ruffled. “don’t worry. that one’s just for me.” Before he could lean in for a kiss, Edge looked away, again keenly aware of their surroundings. “we’re not underground,” Rus murmured. “what are you afraid of?”

He shook his head. Now was not the time for this conversation. “Later.”

“i’m holding you to that. c’mon. let’s find a food cart—it’s way past noon, and I’m starving.”

An objection rose up, but he pushed down the urge. He'd already decided he could afford to ignore his careful calculations for one day. It was fine. He’d be fine.

So he allowed Rus to pick out a food cart and purchase some street tacos for them. He tried to ignore how heavy the magic felt as it incorporated into his soul, tried to ignore the pair of humans staring at them across the courtyard and whispering to themselves. Both got much harder when one of the humans called out, “Hey! Monsters! Yeah, you two—“

The other human was grabbing at the first, shaking her head and saying, “Trev, don’t,” but she was obviously laughing as she said it.

“—how does that work, anyway? The whole eating thing? Doesn’t it just pass right through you?”

Passing humans glanced over and looked away, studiously ignoring the pair. “Oh my god!” the second human said, looking at the skeletons nervously as she tugged her companion away. “I cannot believe you actually said that!”

“What?” he asked, staring at them and grinning even as she dragged him along. “I’m just curious! You can’t tell me you’re not curious. I mean look at them! They’re skeletons! How does that even—?”

She successfully tugged him out of earshot, but Edge was suddenly all too aware of the people staring at them. His spine was stiff and his shoulders thrown back, and he found himself scanning the crowd the way he used to Underground. Even Rus—who tried to find the joke in everything, who seemed oblivious to the danger of simply being different—was a bit put out after that. Nevertheless, he doggedly ate his tacos, waving cheerfully at anyone who stared at them for too long.

“are you going to eat yours?”

Edge looked at the taco and back at his boyfriend. He didn’t want it. He hadn’t wanted it to begin with. He wanted to refuse it. Wanted to say he wasn’t hungry, but he knew that Rus’ smile would go stiff and his eyelights would contract. He’d be upset, and today was supposed to be a good day. “Yes,” he said. “Let’s find somewhere quieter, though.”

Rus beamed, pleased by his answer. He wrapped an arm around Edge’s hip and led him away, searching for somewhere not as heavily trafficked. Edge forced himself to eat, managing to get it down in bits and pieces, picking off a piece of tortilla or a few strands of cabbage at a time. No matter what he ate, he could only taste ash, and as it incorporated into his soul, it seemed to sit there, heavy and hot.

They continued on to view the other habitats, and all the while, Edge was aware of that hot, heavy lump. And no amount of logic Edge tried to apply could convince him that it wasn’t the first sign of heat. He pushed down the fear, repressed the mounting anxiety, but Rus could definitely tell that something was wrong. “you want to go home?” he asked, catching his hand as they stood in front of the crocodile exhibit.

“No,” he said, exhaling hard.

“…those kids upset you that much?”

“No.” He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to say that those hooligans were not children. They were more than old enough to know better.

“look, edgelord, if you’re not having fun—“

He squeezed Rus’ hand and he took a deep breath. “I’m enjoying being with you.”

Rus eyed the crocs. “you sure?”

“About being with you? There are some days I question it, but I can’t say I regret it on the whole.”

Rus cracked a smile. “not really what i meant.”

Edge took a quick look around, making sure no one was watching them, before he planted a careful kiss on Rus’ cheekbone. “Enjoy yourself. Being around so many humans has me…” He winced, then forced himself to say, “on edge. But since I have no intention of going back Underground any time soon, that’s just something I’ll have to get used to.”

Rus was too busy snickering at the pun. “you sure? ‘cause if we go home, then i could be on—“

“There are children,” he hissed, blushing. “Come on, then. I’m sure your Twitter followers will be very disappointed if you don’t post a picture of this scaly beast.”

Rus nodded, raising the phone to take a picture. Then he grinned and asked, “hey, edgelord? does hook have a twitter?”

“I think so.” He furrowed his brow-bones. “Why?”

He turned the phone around to show his picture of the mud-covered croc. “’cause these are some great nudes of her girlfriend, and i want to tag her in them.”

Edge choked.

Rus dragged him all over the zoo after that, stopping at various food carts throughout the day when he got peckish. For once, Edge was grateful that his boyfriend favored junk food; it gave him a good excuse to pass when Rus asked if he wanted churros or ice cream or something of that nature. He wouldn’t be able to skip dinner later that night, but he might be able to get away with ordering a salad.

They stayed past sunset to watch the bats emerge from their roost, listening to the zookeeper as they talked about the bats’ habitat and habits to a crowd of watching humans. It was late by the time they left, and Edge drove toward Monstertown. He’d considered finding a human establishment to finish their date, but after spending the entire day surrounded by them, coming back to their corner of the city would be a welcome relief.

Rus lounged in the seat beside him, watching the lights flash by. He was smiling softly, and his bones were loose and relaxed. Tired, Edge thought, but in a good way. Without thinking about it, Edge took one hand off the wheel and reached for Rus’ hand, holding it loosely. “What do your followers think of our date?” he asked.

Rus chuckled. “they’re impressed so far, but what they really want to know is where we’re going for dinner.”

Edge shook his head, smirking. “How do they feel about Napstaton’s new place?”

“hmmm…not sure. a little high-brow isn’t it? unless you are taking me home and forcing me to change into a suit.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I meant the burger place he just opened—with the cat?”

“oh, yeah. hmmm…that’d be okay.”

“Is there someplace you’d rather go?” Rus didn’t answer, and Edge dared a quick glance at him. “Rus?”

He was fiddling with the zipper of his jacket, looking down at his scuffed converse. “i, uh…would you be willing to try muffet’s café? you don’t have to! i’m…i’m really okay with ntt’s, but…muffet’s a friend, you know? i know you have a history with yours, but i think you two would be friends if you….” He winced. “you know what? never mind. let’s go to ntt’s, huh?”

Edge drove in silence for a while. “We can go to Muffet’s,” he finally said. “If that’s what you want.”

Rus winced again. “no. i mean—i don’t want to push you. being out today was…pretty big, right? it was a lot. maybe another day. but….”

Edge wanted to protest, wanted to say that he could handle it, but his soul was already in knots and he could already feel a deep ache building in his shoulders. Still, he’d planned this date for Rus. He’d give him the world, if he could, but on the surface, Edge felt like he was always coming up against roadblocks—their finances, the humans’ racism, and worst of all, his own limitations. It seemed like he should at least be able to control the latter. Before he could insist that they go to Muffet’s, though, his phone rang. “Would you get that for me?”

Nodding, Rus pulled his phone out of the holder and held it up to his acoustic meatus. “hello?” For Edge’s benefit, he said, “oh, heya, hook! did you see my—wait what? what?”

“Rus?” Picking up on the panic in Rus’ voice, Edge stole a glance at him, resisting the urge to snatch the phone from him. With his phone vision, that would have been disastrous.

“yeah, okay, we’ll be there soon. okay. yeah. yeah, i’ll tell him. thanks, hook.” He hung up the phone and gripped the front of his hoodie. “looks like our date’s been cut short. twist got into some trouble at c’s.”

Edge immediately changed routes. “At Cerulean’s? What the fuck was he even doing there?” It was hardly Twist’s style. He was far more likely to join Red at Grillby’s, or to drag Edge, Cash, Rus, and Slim over to some equally sordid establishment.

“i don’t know,” Rus said, his voice strained, “but the cops are there already. pap’s doing some fast talking, but hook wants someone there to back him up. she’s across town, apparently, or she’d do it herself.”

“What’s Papyrus—?” He sighed heavily. “Never mind. Anything else I should know?”

Rus eyed the phone in his hands. “…his muffet’s involved.”

Edge’s soul went cold, his mana lines prickling uncomfortably. He swore violently and vehemently, tearing his hand from Rus’ grip to slam it against the console—earning a wince from Rus. “I knew—!” His throat closed, and he swore again, pressing the gas pedal toward the floor. Fuck the speed limit; this was an emergency. “She came in last Sunday. I forgot to warn him. I—fuck.”

“hey, you couldn’t have known—“ Edge glared at him, and Rus held up his hands. “right, fine. we’ll think about this like rational people later.”

“When we get there, you teleport home.” He took the off-ramp for Monstertown, heading toward Cerulean’s. Rus opened his mouth, but Edge shook his head. “This isn’t up for debate. I—“ He swallowed hard. “Rus, I need you to go home. Do you understand me? If she’s anything like—“ Memories rose up and he forced them back, forced them down, even when it felt like he was handling glass bare-boned. “—like my Muffet, I don’t want her to so much as see you.”

Rus was quiet, but as they pulled into Cerulean’s parking lot amidst the flashing of red and blue police lights, he said, “okay, precious. i get it. good luck.”

Edge leaned across the seat and kissed him hard. “Thank you,” he said against his mouth. “Lock the doors. Be safe.”

“call me before you head home. keep me updated.”

“Of course.” Another kiss, and then Rus was gone. Some of the tension uncoiled from Edge’s soul. Rus, at least, was safe. Then, after taking a slow, steadying breath, he stepped out of the car and stood to his full height, pulling his embassy ID out as he did so. He surveyed the scene, holding back a wince when he saw Twist seated against the club’s brick façade, his hands handcuffed behind his back. He was speaking to two officers. Two more officers were speaking to the Spider, the two groups separated by at least twenty feet. She was not handcuffed, Edge noticed immediately, cursing internally.

Papyrus, Blue, and Blackberry were being held back by a fifth officer, which really made him wonder just how many police officers they thought they’d need for this call. Approaching the fifth officer—who looked visibly pained to see yet another skeleton monster—Edge held up his ID. “Good evening, officer,” he said, being careful to remain calm and pleasant. “May I ask what’s going on here?”

Chapter Text

The officer looked Edge up and down, visibly tensing when she saw the scars. “I’m gonna have to ask you to stay right there, sir,” she said, holding up a hand. “This is a police matter.”

He obediently stopped, but he didn’t put his ID away. “I’m here as a representative of the embassy—“ Papyrus made a sound, and Edge added, “A sober one.” Papyrus winced, but didn’t protest that. So they had been out drinking together. "What happened?"

“You can request a police report when we’re finished here,” she said firmly. “It’ll be available in a few days.”

His jaw ticked. He looked away, tucking his card into his pocket. “Listen,” he said, lowering his head and his voice so she had to lean in to hear him. “I understand that you’re just doing your job. Believe me—I was part of the royal guard for years. I respect what you’re doing here, and I don’t want to interfere with that.” He took a breath and caught her eye. “But I also need to keep the peace in my community. Monstertown is small. We all know each other or know of each other. Having two Fell-verse monsters arrested outside a Tale-verse establishment is going to—“

“Fell-verse?”

Internally, he cursed. He never would have thought he’d find himself wishing for a mage, but when the alternative was ignorance, he found that he would have preferred dealing with one of the magic wielders. “Yes,” he confirmed, “They’re both Fell—they’re from the same Underground, actually—“

She studied him through narrowed eyes. “Stay here.” Backing away, she spoke quietly into her radio. One of the officers speaking to the Muffet—what was her nickname again?—looked over, his radio crackling. He marched over, arms crossed. The two officers spoke quietly, glancing at Edge and the others. Then they both joined the four skeletons, the male officer studying them through hard eyes.

“What do you know about these two?”

Edge raised a brow-bone, unprepared for this line of questioning—and unprepared for Blackberry to press against his side, sharp claws digging into his arm. “They’re both from the same Underground,” he said again, “but I’m afraid I don’t know much about their relationship.” Shaking his hand free, he clapped a hand on Blackberry’s shoulder and pushed him forward. “This is his brother. He should know something.”

Betrayed, Blackberry tore away from him. The two officers focused on the small skeleton, though, waiting for him to speak. He just lifted his chin and glared at them. Surprised, Papyrus put a hand on his shoulder. “BLACKBERRY? WHY DON’T YOU TELL THE NICE OFFICERS WHAT’S GOING ON?”

He glared at Papyrus too. “Ain’t got nuthin’ ta say,” he said, his accent slipping back into his speech. The officers exchanged a look, and the male officers shook his head, ready to return to Muffet and continue taking down her side of the story.

“ ‘Berry,” Edge said, stooping a little to catch his eyelight. “If you know something that could help keep your brother from being sent back to the detention center, then now is the time to share it.” Blackberry wilted a little and his gaze slipped to the ground. He looked really young in that moment, and Edge remembered that both he and Twist had grown up in the Hotland ghettos, just like him and Red. “This isn’t Hotland,” Edge murmured, and Blackberry jolted, looking up at him with wide sockets. “They don’t serve Asgore—and they can’t be bribed or bought. They’re doing their best to keep the peace here, but they need more information.”

He held back his own reservations—that the law these officers served could be nearly as unjust as a Fell ruler, that they themselves could be swayed by their own prejudices, that everyone had a price—and searched Blackberry’s face. On his other side, Papyrus planted a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Blue was anxiously watching the other officers as they questioned both Twist and Muffet, his whole body taut.

Slowly, Blackberry exhaled and shut his sockets. Not looking at the officers, he said, “She was our…guardian fer a few years.” He opened his sockets, mouth starting to twist into a sneer. “She-she hurt 'im.” He touched his face, tracing a path that reflected the spiderwebbing cracks across Twist’s cheekbone. “A lot. She’s not a good person.” The officers dutifully waited for Blackberry to say more, but he just hunched in on himself. “Please. Can we just go home now?”

They looked at each other. “You four are free to go at any time,” the woman said.

“What about—“

She held up her hand. “We’re still taking your brother’s statement. But it looks like the victim—“ Blackberry grumbled something under his breath, deep blue magic flushing his cheekbones. “—isn’t going to press charges.” She glanced at the male officer. “Given the circumstances, I don’t think we’ll be making any arrests tonight. But I suggest—“ Her tone made it clear that this wasn’t a mere suggestion. “—that all of you keep clear of Miss Tuffet in the future. Especially your brother. Is that clear?”

Darkly, Blackberry said, “I’d cut off an arm if it would keep her from bothering us.”

The two Tale-verse monsters struggled not to react to that, but the police officers were not reassured. “Do you think you can do that?” she asked more forcefully, as if she hadn’t heard what Blackberry just said. “Keep him away from her?”

It looked like Blackberry had something on just the wrong side of disrespectful to say, so Edge squeezed his shoulder and said, “Yes. We can keep them apart.”

She relaxed a little. “Good. You folks seem decent for monsters.” Blue quietly stepped on Papyrus’ foot when he jolted at her phrasing. “I really don’t want to arrest anyone—or call the mages out to bind their magic.” Edge repressed a shiver. He was forever grateful that Papyrus and the other Tale-verse monsters had managed to talk the humans out of that particular course of action. “But that means you—and your friend—need to stay out of trouble and keep your tempers. Okay?”

She waited expectantly, so they all nodded. She shut her notebook and looked back at Edge. “That police report will be available in a few days for the embassy’s records. If you want to wait here for your friend, that’s fine, but you need to keep back.” Her radio crackled again and she listened to it, responding in short, clipped sentences. When it went silent, she looked at the other officer again. “Sounds like I’m needed elsewhere. You got this handled?”

“Yeah, I think we’ve got it.”

She nodded and took her leave. Not long afterward, one of the other officers released Tuffet. When she started down the sidewalk past the four skeletons, the male officer got between her and them, raising a hand when she started to say something to them. “Ma’am, I think it’d be best for you to go home now.”

“Oh, of course!” she said, and Edge shuddered, hearing the sound of her voice. She sounded so much like his own Muffet it was unnerving. “I just wanted to apologize for ruining their little boys’ night—I had no idea Papyrus would react like that! Such a shame. LOVE can do the strangest things to the gentlest of monsters, ahuhuhu~.”

Blackberry started to lunge, but Edge caught him and crushed him against his side, holding him back. “Don’t,” he hissed, squeezing him. “It’s what she wants.” Nevertheless, her laugh made his mana lines run cold, and his own soul was hammering hard. Still, Blackberry didn’t fight him, though he was nearly vibrating with a mix of rage and fear.

The officer urged her on, and she left, her hips swaying purposefully as she walked home. Edge exhaled hard and didn’t protest when Blackberry slipped his arms around him, turning Edge’s restraining hold into a tight hug. He ran his fingers down Blackberry’s skull, scratching his coronal suture. On instinct, he reached for the collar around Blackberry's neck—only to remember that he didn't have one. Under the neckerchief, his cervical vertebrae had been worn smooth. Politely, Edge pulled his hand back and pretended he hadn't noticed. They all had their secrets, and he wasn't going to pry. 

All four of them watched the three remaining police officers converge on Twist. He was still seated against the wall, his hands still cuffed behind his back. They were too far away to hear anything, but Edge could see the tight smile on Twist’s face as the officers spoke to him. Covertly, Blue got out his cell phone and started recording. Edge didn’t ask why. There was something very unnerving about the scene, and Edge’s instincts insisted that things were about to take a turn for the worse. To his surprise and relief, though, one of the officers caught Twist by the shoulder and hauled him upright. He spoke as he undid the cuffs, and Twist immediately rubbed his carpals, massaging the fragile bones. He was nodding in response to the officer's words, giving every semblance of agreement. His smile even managed to look friendly. Relieved, Blue put the phone away.

When they finally gave him permission to leave, Twist wiped the spent magic from his face and shoved his hands in his pockets before joining the four skeletons, grinning when he saw Edge. “Aw, heya, edgelord! Little birdie tell ya ta look in on us? Or, heh, a little fishie?”

Edge was suddenly very glad for the officers' presence, otherwise he might have given in to temptation and punched Twist in the face. “I’ll be taking you two home,” he said crisply, letting Blackberry go so he could cling to his brother. “I assume you two can find your own way?” he asked Papyrus and Blue.

They hesitated, looking at each other. Blue stepped forward, reaching for Blackberry. “We, um. We’ll talk later, right?”

Edge wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but Blackberry managed to huddle even closer to Twist. He didn’t say anything, and Twist winced, placing a protective hand on top of his brother’s skull. “’nother time, baby-blue.” He nodded to Papyrus. “I’ll, uh…I’ll call ya later. You two get home safe now, right?”

“We’ll be fine,” Blue said, “I didn’t drink, so I’m good to drive.” He hesitated, searching the Fell-verse skeletons’ features for answers. “You guys will be okay, though. Right?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Don’ worry ‘bout us, yeah?”

Edge’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t interrupt. Better to get the Tale-verse skeletons out of here and on their way. “I’ll look after them,” he said, “Go home, pipsqueak.” He turned his head, watching Ella Tuffet's retreating form disappear into the darkness. “Lock your doors when you get there.”

“We always do,” he said, and they turned to leave.

Two more of the officers got into their patrol car and pulled away, but the remaining pair lingered, keeping an eye on the three skeletons. It was making Edge’s bones itch. “Come with me,” he ordered, starting toward his car.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, edgelord. We walked. We c’n—“

Edge spun on his toes and stepped into Twist’s personal space, so close he had to tilt his chin up to meet his sockets. “Twist. Get in the car.”

Some unnamed emotion crossed Twist’s features. His eyelight twitched to the side, noting the pair of officers still on the scene. He kept smiling, but Edge could see the tightness in his jaw and the magic flickering behind his cracked socket. As Edge suspected, then—he was still riding the crest of his LV, fighting to keep hold of himself. “Sure thing, sweetheart. After you.”

He urged his little brother forward, following along behind him. Blackberry looked almost lost, but Twist gently pushed him on, guiding him to the car. Edge waited for Blackberry to climb into the backseat before he sat in the front. Twist lingered outside the passenger door, his gaze distant and fixed on something Edge couldn’t see. Until Edge honked the horn. Then he shook his head, more fresh magic slipping down his cheek from between the cracks in his socket; it looked nothing like tears.

He wiped the magic away and slid into the front seat, immediately starting to drum his hands on the dashboard to whatever rhythm he heard in his head. His foot tapped restlessly to a different rhythm entirely. Edge allowed it. He just made sure both of them were buckled in, then pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. The drumming continued as Edge asked, “Would you care to explain yourself?”

“Nope!” His voice was forcibly cheerful, but Edge could hear the strain in it.

“You lost control!” The drumming stopped, but his foot still bounced restlessly. “You’re fucking lucky the police came. Luckier still they let you go. What if you’d killed her, Twist? Where would you be then?” Twist didn’t say anything. His gaze was fixed outside the passenger side window, on the darkened shops they passed. “Are you listening to me?”

“Nope,” he said again, but this time his voice was flat and bitter. Edge swore, but Twist just turned in his seat to look at Blackberry. “How’re you holdin’ up, little bro? Doin’ okay?”

“Twist—“

“You should have let me kill her, Papy.”

“Stars on fire,” Edge muttered, “You two are going to be the death of me.” Louder, he said, “No one is killing anyone! We aren’t Underground anymore.” He pulled into their driveway, careful not to crowd Cash’s car. None of them got out.

“She’s not going to stop,” Blackberry said tonelessly. “She left us alone in Snowdin because it was too cold for her to chase us down. She’s not going to stop. Now that she can reach us, she’s not going to stop. She’s not going to—“ His breath hitched and Edge turned in his seat. Blackberry was folded over himself, and heavy blue tears tracked down the sides of his face. “She’s not going to stop!”

Twist unbuckled his seatbelt and reached back, squeezing his brother’s shoulder. “Hey. C’mon, ‘Berry. None ‘a that. We’ll be fine. We c’n—“

“No!” His sockets were wide and magic flickered deep inside his skull and between his fingers. “No. We have to. We have to stop her. We have to-to—I don’t know, but we have to do something!”

Twist’s gaze dropped, and he shook his head. “Nah, sweetheart. Ain’t gotta do nuthin’. C’mon. Let’s head inside, yeah? Ya wan’ hot chocolate? Think I c’n manage that much without burnin’ down the house.”

He slipped outside and Blackberry followed on his heels. “Papy, take this seriously! We have to do something or she’s going to—“ A low whine caught in his throat and his hands clenched.

Edge followed behind them, locking the car. “Shhhh,” Edge hushed him, catching hold of Blackberry. When it looked like he was going to protest, Edge pointed to the other houses on the street. “Wait until we get inside.”

His breath hitched, but he nodded. One hand on his shoulder, Edge guided him up the walk, following behind Twist. When the door shut securely behind them, Twist stretched and said, “How ‘bout you, edgelord? Ya wan’ hot chocolate?”

His soul revolted at the very idea. “From you? I think not.”

Twist cracked a grin. “Suit yerself.” Shrugging, he stepped around the counter and started pulling milk from the fridge and chocolate chips from the pantry. Without measuring, he poured both together into a pot and set it on the burner. “Spicy er sweet?” he asked his brother, not looking up.

“Papy, we need to talk about this. What are we going to do about her?”

“…maybe both,” Twist said to himself as he fetched both sugar and chili powder. “Sweet an’ spicy—“

“Papyrus.”

Twist winced and froze, his hands hooked around the edge of the counter. He exhaled slowly. “Told ya, sweetheart. We don’ gotta do nuthin’. ‘s a waitin’ game. Her LV’s nearly high as mine. Jus’ gotta wait it out, an’ the problem’ll take care ‘a itself. We keep our heads down and we don’ say ‘boo’ ta nobody an’ it’ll go away.” He exhaled hard, releasing the counter. He looked at the chili powder and at the sugar like he didn’t really know what to do with either, then dumped a measure of each into the pot.

Blackberry, however, looked like someone had punched him in the gut as he realized the implication of Twist’s words. His sockets had gone wide and his breathing was too fast. “How.” He sniffed, wiping more tears away. “How could you say that? It’s not. It’s not true—“ Edge reached out to him, but Blackberry flinched away, his gaze never leaving Twist’s frame.

Twist looked up, and he gripped the counter so hard the mana drained from his knuckles, leaving the bone pallid and devoid of color. “Yeah, Sans. It is. Jus’ be grateful it means she won’ be our problem fer too much longer. Jus’ gotta wait ‘til she loses it. Shouldn’t be too long, knowin’ her. Soon as things start goin' wrong, she'll lash out. Find someone ta blame fer her troubles.” Edge swallowed hard and tried to keep his breathing level. "Then they'll either pick her up and throw 'er back inta the center or she'll lose it completely. Fall ta 'er LV. Either way, she won' be our problem no more." Cocking his head, Twist narrowed his sockets and tilted the pot this way and that, searching its depths for something he couldn’t seem to see.

“No!”

Twist ignored him. Brushing the tears away, Blackberry marched into the kitchen and started digging around in the pantry. “Hey! Hey, what’re you doin'? What're you lookin' for?”

“My herbs. I’m sure there’s something here that I could use to—“ Twist hauled him up and dragged him out of the kitchen. Blackberry immediately started fighting him, kicking and squirming. “Put me down! ’m not gonna let her—! She’s already—! I won’—can’t—!” Too upset to be coherent, Blackberry’s words jumbled and mixed together and more tears gathered in his sockets, even as he pushed at his brother’s hands and tried to pry his fingers away.

“Twist—“ Edge reached for him, concerned, but Twist glared at him.

“Trust me ta handle my own brother, huh? I ain’t gonna hurt ‘im an’ I ain’t as stupid as all ‘a you seem ta think I am,” he snapped. Edge lowered his hands, but he kept close. In the living room, Twist sat Blackberry down on the couch and knelt in front of him, his single eyelight blazing bright. “Enough,” he said, leaning close. “That’s enough, Sans. Ya hear me? Stop it. Ya ain’t gonna do nuthin—“

“I’m not going to let her hurt you again!”

Twist’s smile was anything but amused. “Yeah? Then you’ll leave her the fuck alone, ya got me?” Blackberry tried to get up, but Twist caught his arms and forced him to stay down. “Listen ta me. Right now. Lookit me and listen.” Blackberry looked up and Twist held his eyelights. “I kept yer hands clean—on the surface, if not deep down.” Blackberry started to fight again, but Twist shook him lightly. “No, damn it. Listen ta me. I kept yer hands clean. Ya ain’t got any LOVE. Yer free up here. No tracker on yer leg.” He swallowed. “No timer tickin’ down. Yer free, Sans. Tha’s my gift ta you. The one thing I didn’t manage ta fuck up. An’ you ain’t gonna throw that in my face jus’ ta chase down a fuckin’ Spider that ain’t gonna last long up here anyway. She’ll lose it or she’ll fuck up and break one ‘a the humans’ rules. Don’ matter which; I don’t give a shit. The only thing I do give a shit ‘bout is seein’ you here on the Surface, livin’ happy an’ free. Ya got me?”

Blackberry shook his head, unable to wipe the tears away, unable to catch his breath. “I never asked ya. Never asked. Never. Not fer that.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know ya didn’.” He exhaled hard and pulled Blackberry close, hugging him tight. “Promise me ya won’ do anythin’ stupid. Ya won’ try ta poison Muffet. Won’ track ‘er down. Promise me you’ll leave her 'lone.”

Burying his face in Twist’s chest, Blackberry mumbled a miserable, “I promise.”

The tension bled out of Twist’s frame. “Good. Then let’s—“ The pot on the stove boiled over with a harsh hissing sound. Twist shut his sockets and sighed, looking skyward. “How ‘bout I make tea instead?” Blackberry nodded, looking sick. “Lavender an’ chamomile?” Another nod.

As he passed, he glanced at Edge and said, “You wan’ tea too? Or have ya seen ‘nough ‘a the sideshow fer tanight?”

Glancing at Blackberry, Edge lowered his voice and followed Twist into the kitchen. “Twist, listen.” Twist turned off the burner and looked at the dark mess in the pot with a sigh. “I need to make sure you’re not going to do anything you may regret later.”

He laughed, the sound short and sharp. “Why stop now?”

Edge crowded close, catching his wrist. “I mean it.”

Twist turned, and Edge swallowed, seeing the misery in his sockets, even as he continued to grin. His LV had finally settled, and Edge well knew the kind of hollow ache it left behind. “Look, edgelord, I ain’t gonna go lookin’ fer trouble.” His gaze shifted to his brother. He lowered his voice. “But I wouldn’t be s’prised if trouble went outta its way ta find me. C’s ain’t exactly her kind ‘a place.”

Edge’s sockets went wide. “You think she followed you?”

Twist shrugged. “I think she’s got a small army ‘a spiders that c’n go pretty much anywhere they please without bein’ seen.” Edge gripped the counter, his soul coiling tight. Twist's gaze flicked to his brother once again. “Will ya…?” His jaw twitched. “Will ya look in on ‘im? When I’m gone?”

“You know I will.” They’d already had this conversation. They both knew Twist’s LV was eventually going to get to him. It was really just a matter of when and how. “One thing, though.” Twist raised a brow-bone, and Edge leaned close. “If you dare use this as an excuse to go out fighting, I’ll find a fleshy monster to piss on your dust. You understand me?”

He laughed, pulling away from Edge to put the kettle on the burner. “Sure thing, edgelord. I think we understand each other.” He eyed the clock. “Why don’t you head home now? ‘m sure yer bonefriend’s waitin’ up fer ya.”

Edge looked at Blackberry. “You have everything in hand?”

Twist snorted. “Never. But all the fires’re put out fer now. Go home, sweetheart.”

“Fine. Call me if anything changes.” Twist waved him off and started preparing the tea.

As he passed the couch, Edge squeezed Blackberry’s shoulder. Blackberry patted his hand in gratitude but didn’t otherwise react. Edge crossed the living room, pausing when he reached the hallway—Cash stood just inside, his arms crossed and his features unreadable. Edge narrowed his sockets, but Cash just stepped out of the hall and flopped onto the couch beside Blackberry. No way to know if he'd been eavesdropping or for how long, but Cash wasn't his problem, so Edge let it go without a word. 

Edge left the small house and its occupants behind, but his mind was still preoccupied as he drove back to the condo he shared with Rus. Twist’s words kept echoing back at him—about trouble finding him, and about Ella Tuffet’s small army of spiders. All the way home, his soul wound tighter and tighter, until a phantom ache settled in his chest. It felt like he was being strangled. As soon as he pulled into the garage, he dug his phone out and checked the registry.

Monsters were, by law, required to register their address with the local mage’s guild. Their names and type were withheld, but their LV and their address were both public information. In Monstertown and around Ebott, the information couldn’t really be used to track down an individual monster simply because there were so many. But the Muffet from his Underground had moved South as soon as they emerged onto the Surface. He pulled up the website and confirmed that a monster of 14 LV was still living on the outskirts of that small desert town.

He exhaled hard and leaned against the back of the driver's seat, covering his sockets with one hand as he exhaled shakily. He clenched his hands; they felt shaky and weak, but a glance at them revealed they were as steady and stable as they'd ever been. His soul still pulsed with anxiety, but checking the registry had helped. He ignored the niggling reminder that all she had to do was move without updating the registry. The consequences for doing something like that were dire, particularly for Fell monsters; she might hate him, but her sense of self-preservation was surely stronger than her desire to torture him further.

He stayed in the car until he could breathe normally, until his hands didn't feel like they were shaking. He didn't want to burden Rus with this. He could handle it on his own. Exhaling slowly, he shored up his defenses and made his way inside, announcing himself as he hung up his jacket. 

Rus was waiting for him at the kitchen table, a few boxes of takeout in front of him. “everything okay?” he asked, standing to greet Edge with a kiss. 

“Yes,” Edge said automatically as he pulled away. Then he sighed. “No. It’s—“ His fingers curled and he swore softly. “Sit down.” They both sat at the table, and Rus took his hand, rubbing his thumb across the metacarpals. Taking a deep breath, he told him everything—or, at least, everything he knew. “Your brother might have more information. He was at C’s when it happened.”

“yeah, he texted me. told me not to worry about him.”

Edge nodded, looking at the takeout boxes. “You ate?” he asked hopefully. 

“i was waiting for you to get home.” His soul dropped, and he looked away. Rus pulled him closer. “edge.”

He shook his head, allowing his head to drop. “I can’t.” Checking on the location of his Muffet had helped, but his soul was still tightly wound. It churned and roiled, and just the smell of food was making him ill. He couldn't even fake it right now. Maybe tomorrow morning, but not right now. 

“it’s okay, precious,” Rus said, scooting his chair over so he could pull him into his side. “you’ve been doing really good since we got to the surface.” Edge’s soul dropped, tightening further as he thought of the last week. His calculations. His regimented schedule. His careful, calculated efforts to deceive his lover. Rus just continued to hold him close, rocking slightly. Edge felt cold in his arms. “why don’t we call it a day, huh?”

“Aren’t you going to eat—?” The very idea that Rus might forgo food because of him was appalling and more than a little alarming.

“i’ll eat while you shower.”

Edge, relaxing a little, nodded and stood up, squeezing Rus’ hand before he went upstairs. The warm water eased his bones a little, but it did nothing to soothe his soul, and he was happy to find Rus waiting for him in bed. He crawled in beside him and settled close, resting with his head on Rus’ chest. He shut his sockets, listening to the rush of mana through his mana lines and the dim pulsing of his soul. Rus wasn’t especially good at projecting, but the faintest trace of / comfort / safety / love / emanated from him.

“i love you.”

Sockets shut, Edge nodded, one hand resting over his ribcage. “You too,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

Cash sat beside Blackberry on the couch, ignoring the glare the smaller monster shot him. He was too busy watching Twist without making it obvious he was watching him. Dried magic crusted his cheekbone and his cracked socket. Cash raised a brow-bone, daring a quick glance at Blackberry. It was obvious he’d been crying—his cheekbones were stained and his features were still flushed.

He hadn’t heard much, only what Twist had practically shouted at his brother. (“—you ain’t gonna throw that in my face jus’ ta chase down a fuckin’ Spider—“) Cash tried to remember the last time he’d heard Twist raise his voice in anger, but he came up blank. Something had happened. Something was wrong.

He swallowed, jawbone ticking. This wasn’t his problem. He didn’t even like the Twistfell brothers—

(Standing in the cold, empty Judgement Hall. Surrounded by nothing but dust and bad memories. A hand on his shoulder. Turning, his eyelight blazing…only to be met with a smile. “Heya, Patches! Been lookin’ all over fer ya. Whatcha doin’ down ‘ere, huh? C’mon—why don’ ya come home with me, yeah?” An arm slung over his shoulders, guiding him away. Not resisting. Not caring enough to bother trying to fight him off.)

—so why was his soul so agitated? He pulled out one of his cigarillos, but before he could light it, Blackberry snapped, “If you’re going to smoke, then do it outside.”

He nearly smiled, his soul loosening a little. “gladly.”

Out on the porch, he lit his cigarillo, watching the empty street as he leaned against the wall. He shut his sockets, imagining Twist and Blackberry talking about him, imagining Blackberry reminding Twist that Cash was originally only supposed to stay with them for a few days. Days had morphed into weeks and months. Soon enough, they had to get tired of him. They had to kick him out. Remind him he wasn’t welcome. Remind him he wasn’t wanted.

And then he could go back to not caring. About them. About himself. About anything.

The front door opened and Twist stepped out on the porch. Rather than joining Cash at the wall, he sat on the steps and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He turned it over in his hands, the cellophane crinkling. Then he broke the seal and pulled out his lighter. The smell of cheap tobacco made Cash wrinkle his nasal ridge.

“i thought you quit.”

Twist stretched out his legs and tilted his head back, breathing out a long stream of smoke. “Yeah. Quit b’fore. Prob’ly quit again, too. Jus’ can’t get it ta stick. Not fer long. ‘Sides, if I was serious ‘bout it, I wouldn’t keep a pack on hand ‘just in case’, right?” He looked at the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. “Ain’t a good time fer it, anyhow.”

Cash studied him. “no?”

Twist sighed. His foot bounced in agitation. “Nah. Not now. Whatever. ‘s fine. Ain’t like—“ He shut his sockets and huffed. “Got bigger things’n smokin’ ta worry ‘bout, right?” He laughed, low and bitter. “Pretty sure I only ever bothered tryin’ ‘cause it made my bro happy.”

Cash grunted. “that’s a stupid reason.”

Twist just smiled at him. “Aw, darlin’, didn’ anyone tell ya? Stupid reasons‘re the only ones I got.”

Something in Cash’s soul twisted. He felt it every time Twist called himself stupid or said something about his LV. He never knew how to respond, never knew what to say. So he just looked out over the street and changed the subject. “you gonna tell me what happened? or is that another one of your secrets?”

Twist laughed. “Secrets? Aw, sweetheart. I ain’t got any secrets.”

Cash called his bluff. “yeah? then what happened to your eye, asshole?”

Twist blinked. “My eye?” Then he smiled. “Aw, darlin’—‘m a skeleton. Ain’t got no eyes; never did.” He winked, lighting another cigarette. Cash rolled his eyelight while Twist took a long drag. “Ya wanna know what happened tanight? Ran inta an old ‘friend’.” Cash could hear the air quotes in that phrase, could see it in the way Twist pulled in on himself. He drew one leg toward his chest and rested his arm on his knee, eyelight sharp as he scanned the street. Only now did Cash realize Twist hadn’t just come out here to smoke; he was keeping watch. “She an’ I got a hist’ry. Long one.” He scratched his shattered socket, grimacing as dried magic flaked off the bone.

“she’s a spider?”

“Yeah. The Muffet from my universe.” Twist paused, looking up at him. “Didja have a Muffet?”

Cash shrugged. “probably. she and i weren’t close.”

“Yeah? In’erestin’…. Think yer the only Papyrus that ain’t got some kind ‘a hist’ry with his Muffet.”

Cash just grunted and looked away. “so? what’d yours do?”

Twist took a long drag on his cigarette, smoke slipping out from the gaps between his skull and jaw. “Tanight? Made a pass at Paps. Got me riled up. If the police hadn’t shown….” Smoke curled from his nasal aperture as he studied the cigarette. “Thought it’d be tanight. Thought I’d lose it there. With her.” He shut his sockets and shook his head.

When he looked up at Cash again, there was something open and vulnerable in his expression. It made Cash’s soul pulse, and his whole body went taut. “I don’ wanna lose it ‘cause ‘a her, Patches. Don’ wan’ her ta be the thing that finally pushes me over.” He swallowed hard, his breathing ragged. “She already—she—“ He shut his sockets, shaking his head. Magic leaked from between the cracks in his shattered socket like molten gold. He brushed it away, taking a deep breath. “Fuck,” he muttered. More emphatically, he said, “Shit. Life jus’…jus’ ain’t fair, is it?” He stared out over the empty street, his shoulders tense. “Finally made it ta the surface. Outta the detention center. An’…here she is. Like she was jus’ waitin’ fer me ta get settled. Seems like I can’t ever get ahead ‘a things. Can’t ever quite make it outta the hole I dug fer myself when I was too young ta know what I was doin’.”

He laughed again, sounding anything but amused. Smiling wryly, he looked up at Cash and said, “Heh. Sorry, sweetheart. I ain’t good comp’ny right now. You headin’ in soon?”

Cash followed Twist’s gaze down to his cigarillo, realizing the cherry had burnt down nearly to his fingers. He threw it down and stamped it out, grinding the butt under his heel. “no.” He pulled away from the wall and sat on the steps beside Twist, arms crossed. “one of those nights,” he said, stealing a look at Twist. “can’t sleep. you know how it is.”

Twist nodded, still scanning the street. “Yeah. I know how it is.”

For a few minutes, he was quiet, and Cash shifted. The silence was uncomfortable, but Cash didn’t know how to break it. He had no idea how to reply to everything Twist had said. He was probably supposed say something comforting, right? But any words of reassurance he might have offered seemed hollow and trite. So he just kept his silence and stared out into the darkness, fingers restlessly playing over the double-headed coin he kept on hand.

Snuffing out his cigarette, Twist studied the butt, then pulled out a third. “Y’know…maybe you oughtta call up Slim? See if he’s having a sleepless night too. You two could—“

“fuck off.”

“I was gonna suggest cards, but you two c’n do whate’er ya like, darlin’.”

Cash glared at him, hoping he could feel his sins crawling on his back. “stop it. stop playing matchmaker. mind your own damn business.”

Foot still bouncing, Twist only spared him a brief glance. He shrugged. “Jus’ a suggestion. Seems like you two could—“

“i said stop.”

Twist gave the street a thorough look, then he turned his attention to Cash, his good eyelight flaring. “Look ‘ere, darlin’. I know ya like ‘im. And I know he likes you. He’s too shy ta make a move and yer too fuckin’ proud ta bend fer ‘im.” Twist stabbed a finger at his chest, making Cash sit up straight. “Why the fuck’re you so determined ta be unhappy, huh? Ya got—ya got a fuckin’ chance ta have a life up here; why don’ ya take advan’age ‘a that? Why’re ya always tryna sabotage yerself?”

Cash’s sockets narrowed, and he leaned in, holding Twist’s gaze. “yeah? where the fuck do you get off? as if you don’t do the same thing.”

“What the fuck’re you talkin’ about? I—“

“slim.” Twist swallowed and broke eye contact. “you two flirt with each other every chance you get. don’t even try to tell me you don’t want him. i can see it—he can see it. and between the two of us, i think we both know who’d make him happier in the long run.”

Twist shut his sockets and sighed, running his claws over his coronal suture. “Darlin’, I ain’t got a ‘long run’, yeah?”

Cash shook his head. “oh, fuck off. you’re fine. you’re—“

Twist turned and hooked a finger around the collar of his jacket and pulled him close. Close enough that Cash could feel the heat pouring off of him, could smell the sweetness of spent magic. “You got cotton stuffed in your earholes? Didja hear me earlier? I almost lost it tanight.” He held up his thumb and forefinger and pinched them nearly together. “Came this close. It’s like…like standin’ on the edge of a cliff—you c’n stand there an’ wait fer it ta crumble underneath ya, er you c’n step straight off…but ya can’t back away.” He let go of Cash and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Not gonna pull nobody else inta that. Not my bro. Not Slim.”

Then Twist turned and gave him a look that hit him like a punch to the soul. “Not you.”

Soul pulsing, the back of his neck prickling, Cash had to turn away, fingers curling limply. His soul felt too heavy and too light all at once. “twist—“

But Twist was standing and stretching. “’m gonna walk ‘round the house. Make sure we ain’t got spiders in our eaves.” He looked at Cash and grinned. The expression didn’t meet his sockets. “Like I said, I ain’t good comp’ny tanight. Why doncha give Slim a call, huh?”

Cash couldn’t think of what to say, so he just watched Twist walk away, searching for signs of spiders and spiderlings. Soul still sitting strangely in his chest, Cash stood up and stuffed his hands in his pockets before heading inside. The house was dark and quiet and—

(Standing in the Hall. Tasting dust on the air. Waiting for Them. Waiting. Waiting and waiting.)

(But nobody came.)

—and Cash didn’t bother to turn on any lights. He walked down the hall to Blackberry’s room and pushed the door open. The smaller monster sat up immediately, one hand raised and magic glimmering in his sockets. “Who—“ He blinked, lowering his control hand. “Oh. It’s you. What do you want?”

“tell me about the muffet from your universe.”

Blackberry stared at him, sockets narrowed. “Why?”

Cash crossed his arms. “because it’s midnight and your brother is circling the house, searching for spiders.”

The blankets bunched in his hands, and Blackberry pulled them to his chest. “Turn on the light.” For a moment, Cash held still. Then he reached out and flipped the light switch on. “I don’t know everything,” Blackberry said, looking up at him. “Papy hid a lot from me when we were with her, and after we got separated….” He looked away, his fists clenched so tight the magic had drained from his knucklebones. “I just know she hurt him. Bad. He didn’t like tight spaces after we found each other again. Or apples.”

Cash’s brow-bones rose. He knew about Twist’s strong reaction to apples, but he hadn’t known that his Muffet was the cause of the aversion. “she’s here now? on the surface?”

Blackberry nodded, pulling in on himself. He drew his knees to his chest and rested his fists on top, still gripping the blankets like a lifeline. “She found us.”

“what name is she using?”

Blackberry looked up at him, his eyelights glinting. “What are you planning?”

Cash shrugged. “haven’t decided yet.”

He nodded, climbing out of bed. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Chapter Text

It was still dark outside when Edge woke up. Rus slept peacefully beside him, one arm thrown haphazardly over his head. Edge shut his sockets, listening to him snore softly and to the gentle hum of his soul. Then, an instant before his alarm went off, Edge grabbed his phone and silenced it.

Though it was tempting to remain beside his lover—this was early, even for him—Edge crept from their bed, taking care to stay silent. He pulled a loose tank top and a pair of joggers from the dresser and got dressed in the dark. Downstairs, he pulled on a pair of socks and grabbed a sweatshirt from the hall closet, checking the time. Twist wouldn’t be expecting him for at least another half hour, assuming Twist intended to join him after last night’s events.

Edge shook his head, resisting the urge to check on Muffet’s location—surely she hadn’t relocated in the last few hours. That would be completely absurd.

He finished tying his shoes with almost vengeful force, set his stopwatch, and set out. He had enough time to run a few extra miles before he got to Twist’s house, and he took advantage of that. Cutting through the greenspace, he skirted along the edges of Monstertown. Automatically, he scanned the streets for graffiti and other signs of vandalism. Not all Fell monsters were adapting to Surface life with grace, and more than once, he’d seen gang signs or human-phobic slurs spray-painted on these streets and byways. So far, it seemed like it was just disgruntled monsters blowing off steam, but he always reported these signs to the Royals, so they could get a Washua out there to clean it up. The graffiti humans left was always more concerning. These he reported to the police and the local mage’s guild…not that they ever seemed to do anything about it.

He was panting by the time he reached Spinnerette’s. Rus’ Muffet was already at work, judging by the smell of baking bread. His soul contracted, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten last night, but he only shook his head and continued on. He fell into the rhythm of it, listening to his own breathing and the sound of his feet hitting the pavement. As he reached the embassy, though, he had pause and put his hand out, using the side of the building to support himself. He couldn’t catch his breath, and his chest ached. He checked his time, sneering in disgust. He was slow today—he’d have to shave a whole mile off his planned route if he wanted to meet Twist in time.

Shutting his sockets, he took a few deep breaths, steeling himself. When he finally caught his breath, he took off again, cutting through alleyways and running down side streets. By the time he made it to Twist’s cul-de-sac, his soul was screaming again. He was a few minutes early, and in vain, he hoped that Twist might still be getting dressed for their run so he could catch his breath again. Unfortunately for Edge, Twist was sitting on the stoop, dressed and waiting.

Nonetheless, Edge slowed, studying him. Twist’s arms rested on his knees, and his expression was hard, almost grim. A cigarette dangled loosely from his fingers, though he stubbed it out as Edge jogged up the drive. It joined a small pile of burnt up butts as Twist stood, stretching. “C’mon, darlin’. Le’s get goin’—“

Edge tilted his head. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Nope,” Twist said with forced cheer, his grin sharp. “C’mon, sweetheart. Wan’ a hard run taday.” He rolled his shoulders. “Need it. Bad.” Before Edge could reply, Twist took off down their usual route, knocking his shoulder into Edge as he ran past. “C’mon, edgelord—shake the glue off ‘a yer feet! Le’s move!”

Growling softly, Edge turned to follow him. He caught up quickly—Twist was running at an easy jog—but as soon as he did, Twist gave him an almost feral look. “Yer slow taday, aincha?” he said, eyelight glinting maliciously. “Wha’s the matter, darlin’? Ain’t warmed up enough yet?”

Edge knew when he was being baited, and on another morning, in other circumstances, he’d have told Twist to fuck off and get himself under control. Today, even though he knew Twist was deliberately trying to provoke him, even though he could see Twist’s LV was riding him, he couldn’t stop himself from glaring at the bigger monster and pushing himself to go faster. Proving to himself and anyone watching that he was fine still in control, still keeping ahead of himself. Everything was fine, and he had it all in hand.

He pulled ahead. Twist responded to the challenge with a low-pitched laugh. “Tha’s more like it!” And then they were racing. Their footfalls echoed in the pre-dawn gloom, and Edge’s breathing sounded loud in his own skull. Twist glanced at him, his grin sharp and his eyelight still glinting. “That all ya got, edgelord?”

His chest ached and his soul burned, but he snarled and pushed himself to go faster. Fast enough to wind Twist. Fast enough to get him to shut up. It worked. Soon, both of them were breathing hard, and the feral light was starting to bleed from Twist’s eyelight. He turned his head to the side and spat out a thick wad of congealed magic. Normally, Edge would chastise him for that kind of behavior, but he couldn’t catch his breath. His soul burned and ached, beating too fast and too hard in his chest. He pushed past that feeling. Pushed until it felt like his soul would burst. Only then did he hold up his hand and slow to a stop.

Edge bent at the waist, his hands on his knees and his head hanging down. His soul burned as he tried to pull fresh air into his thoracic cavity, and his knees felt shaky and weak. Twist stood beside him, one hand lifted. “Hey, are ya okay, sweetheart?” He rested a careful hand on Edge’s shoulder, flinching back when Edge threw him off. “’S…’s not like ya ta need a break.”

“Fuck.” Edge panted between each word. “Off.” Congealed magic gathered in his mouth, thick and sticky, making it even harder to breathe. “I’m.” He swallowed it back and gasped. “Fine.”

“Ya sure? Ya don’ look ‘fine’, sweetheart. C’mon, why don’ we walk the rest ‘a the—“

With a snarl, Edge took off at a run, ignoring the ache in his chest and the stitch in his side, ignoring the way his soul seemed to burn. Twist followed, but he hung back just a step or two behind, noticeably allowing Edge to set their pace. Angry—at Twist, at himself, at everything—Edge only pushed himself even harder when he noticed that. He was fine! More than fine! He was just fucking peachy, and Twist needed to mind his own damn business anyway!

They circled back around toward Twist’s house, and a traitorous part of him was grateful that this hellish run was almost over. As they entered the cul-de-sac, though, Twist skidded to a halt and muttered a soft, “Aw, hell.”

Edge slowed but didn’t stop, until he followed Twist’s gaze. Then he froze immediately. Slim and Red were sitting on Twist’s front porch. The former sat with his long legs extended and one earbud stuck in his acoustic meatus. He was either smoking or eating a sucker and watching Red, who stood on the last flagstone, talking animatedly.

“Fuckin’—“ Twist huffed in irritation, sockets narrowed. The sun was only just starting to peek over the horizon, and Slim and Red’s seemingly casual demeanor didn’t fool them. Very few forces Underground or Above could pull the lazybones from their beds at this hour. Worry was one of them. Twist glared at him. “This yer fault? You text yer bro ‘bout las’ night?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Edge said, but he barely heard himself. He was too busy realizing that he had to get away and fast—Red knew him too well. One look at him, and he’d know think that something was wrong—even if Edge had everything well in hand and didn’t need big brother to come swooping in and mucking around in his business—and Edge did not need him to be asking the kind of questions he’d be asking. “I think I’ll—“ He was still panting softly, still trying to catch his breath. “—leave you here.” He turned away, gesturing to the gathered monsters. “Good luck with that.”

Twist jolted. “Aw, c’mon, that ain’t fair—! Red’s yer bro, ain’t ‘e? Aincha gonna say ‘hi’ at least?”

“No; I’m giving him up—“ His breathing was finally starting to even out. A little. “—for adoption. He’s your brother now.”

“Tha’s not how adoption werks—!” Twist huffed as Edge jogged past, leaving him to the metaphorical wolves. “Coward!”

Edge just threw up a one-fingered salute in farewell, slowing to a walk as soon as he was out of view. Alone now, he could admit that he’d pushed himself too far. His joints felt loose, and his legs were shaky. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday—his soul was likely low on magic, drawing from his reserves just to keep his bones in place. A miscalculation. A stupid one, but easily corrected.

By the time he got back to the condo, the sun was fully up—even if few people were awake to appreciate it—and he was lightheaded. He paused in the garage, taking a moment to get himself together before he stepped inside. Rus likely wasn’t awake yet, but Edge didn’t want to risk being seen like this right now. The dizziness only grew worse, and he leaned on the doorframe to toe off his running shoes. He didn’t bother putting them away, just stumbled inside and grabbed a banana from the bowl of fruit on the counter. He sat heavily at the kitchen table, and now that he’d taken the weight off it, his leg shook violently. He had to grip his femur just above the knee to steady it.

The banana was probably the sweetest thing he’d ever eaten. It seemed to melt in his mouth, and he nearly shivered at the taste—stars, it was delicious. His soul sucked down the fresh magic hungrily, and a warm wave spread through his mana lines. Nothing in his life had ever tasted as good. It was gone too soon.

He eyed the bowl. He wanted another one. Badly. Or an apple. A peach. Anything. He shouldn’t, though. Not if he wanted to stick to the strict regiment he’d set up for himself. Then again, the shaking and lightheadedness were a problem. He shut his sockets, drumming his fingers on the table as he reviewed his plans for the day and how many calories he could safely eat. Finally, he decided that he’d wait fifteen minutes to see if his symptoms went away. If they didn’t, then he’d allow himself another banana. Satisfied with that decision, he checked the time—

“babe?”

Edge froze, and his soul flipped before it started hammering hard. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? He wasn’t doing anything wrong—he had no reason to feel as if he’d been caught. Swallowing, he schooled his features and turned, furrowing his brow-bones when he saw Rus. He was still in his pajamas, and his sockets were still bleary with sleep. “You’re up early. Is everything alright?” Rus walked over and cupped Edge’s face in his hands, searching his features. “…Rus?”

His sockets were creased in concern. “twist called.” Edge’s sockets narrowed. That hypocritical bastard. “he said you weren’t looking so hot.” Rus’ mouth quirked. “i mean, you’re always smokin’, precious, but…you don’t look like yourself. are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine—“

Rus eyed his shoes, lying haphazardly by the door. The kind of obvious tripping hazard Edge would not normally permit. Edge flushed, but Rus pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “do you feel hot? twist said—“

Edge pulled back, pushing away from the table and standing. “Twist is an idiot,” he said caustically. “And he didn’t exactly look great this morning either.” Under his breath, he muttered about Twist’s hypocrisy and apparent inability to mind his own damn business. As he did, he threw the banana peel in the garbage. Then, under Rus’ watchful gaze, he bent to pick up his shoes. “I just over did it a bit during our run, that’s—“

A wave of vertigo caused him to lean into the wall, using it to steady himself. Rus was there in an instant, taking the shoes from him and—despite his protests—dropping them back onto the floor. He teleported them both upstairs, guiding Edge down onto the bed. “so. ‘fine’, huh?” Rus asked. He was smiling, but there was real concern behind his grin.

Edge looked away, his jaw tight. “Perhaps I’m not…wholly myself right now.”

“you think?” Rus shook his head, hands on his hips. “don’t look so upset, precious. it happens to the best of us. c’mon—let’s get you out of those sweaty clothes.” He helped Edge peel off his shirt, but then he paused, studying him.

“What?”

“do you think…you think you might be going into heat?”

It was like an ice-cold hand reached out to close over his soul at the suggestion. He worked to control his breathing and to keep his features blank. “What—“ He cleared his throat, hoping Rus hadn’t noticed the quiver in his voice. “What makes you say that?”

“well, early signs of heat are a lot like signs of a cold. weakness, nausea, fever. vertigo and lightheadedness too.” He reached out to feel Edge’s forehead again, and Edge worked not to flinch from his touch. “you don’t feel hot, but…heat’s a little different for everyone, and the first one is always a little unpredictable. what are your other symptoms?”

Edge jerked away from him, shaking his head. “I’m not in heat!”

“are you sure?” The concern was still there, but now there was something playful in Rus’ expression too. Almost teasing. “it’s not like you to get sick.”

Every word he spoke only made Edge’s anxiety worse. His breath was frozen in his thoracic cavity, and he could hear his pulse echoing in his skull. “I’m not—“ A shiver of revulsion and panic wracked him, but now he was staring at his bare ribcage, wondering if it might not be true. His soul hadn’t manifested, but how long did that take, anyway? His lightheadedness had returned, and it felt like he was starting to drift.

Rus took his hand and knelt in front of him. “hey—hey, edge? breathe, huh? c’mon, precious. it’s okay. look at me. look. come on.” Edge allowed him to turn his head, and he inhaled sharply at the reminder to breathe. The lightheadedness faded a little, but he still felt like he was about to float away. “it’s okay,” Rus said, smiling with a kind of earnestness that was both endearing and alienating at the same time. “i know you’re a little nervous, but don’t worry. whether you’re going into heat or you’re just sick, i’m here. we’ll tackle it together, okay?” Rus squeezed his hands. “i’ll take care of you, precious. don’t worry. i’m here.”

Edge just felt numb and nauseous—and the reminder that nausea was an early sign of heat did not help. “I—“ His voice was choked, nearly a squeak. Rus leaned forward, one knee resting on the edge of the bed. He pressed his forehead against Edge’s, shutting his sockets and cupping the sides of Edge’s face. With a shudder, Edge clung to him, gripping his hips and leaning into the embrace. Gentle fingers ran down his coronal suture and came to rest at the base of his skull. Edge shut his sockets with a sigh that was nearly a sob.

“easy, precious. i got you. i’m here.”

Edge nodded, his fingers flexing on Rus’ hipbones. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then pulled back a little. “I’m sorry—“

“nothing to be sorry about.” Rus kissed his forehead. He pulled back and looked down at him, his expression almost unbearably gentle and kind. “why don’t i run a bath for you? i know you probably want to get cleaned up. then we can just lay down and relax for a while, okay? if you’re getting sick, the rest will be good for you. and if you’re not….” His smile was teasing. Surely, he meant it to be reassuring, but it only made Edge feel isolated and alone in his fear. “…then i think i’m more than qualified to look after you.”

Edge swallowed thickly. “I can do it. Run a bath, I mean.”

“why don’t you just settle down and rest for a bit? if you are getting sick—“

“I’m not an invalid!” Edge snapped, then winced at the expression on Rus’ face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…. I mean.” He exhaled shakily, covering his sockets. “I’m sorry. But…can I have a moment? I’ll…I’ll call you if I need help.”

Rus’ features softened. “it’s okay. i was nervous too, my first time. i get it. but you’re going to be just fine, okay? i’ll look after you—i promise.”

Soul still heavy, Edge just nodded, standing on shaky legs. In the bathroom, he shut the door behind him and turned the water on high. For a moment, he watched the water rise, replaying his conversation with Rus in his head. He glanced at the door, fingers twitching. Swallowing hard, he reached out and turned the lock.

Turning to the sink, he used the counter to support himself and exhaled slowly, forcing his soul to manifest. The mirror reflected his image, and he flinched away, hating the sight before him; a hard, stony soul locked behind scarred ribs. He swallowed, reaching under his ribcage to pull it free. A monster’s soul was meant to be soft and sensitive, but he couldn’t feel the touch, couldn’t feel anything through the thick, calcified outer layer. It glowed only dimly and sat like a rock in his palm.

He’d never allowed Rus to see this part of himself. It hurt too much, revealing to his Tale-verse lover just how Fell he truly was. He wanted to choose when and how Rus first saw his soul. He was not going to allow a biological process he had absolutely no say in to take that choice from him.

So he held his soul over the sink and shut his sockets, focusing his intent. He kept his mouth shut, gritting his teeth when a sharp stab of pain shot through him. He grunted, hoping the running water would cover the sound. When he opened his sockets, a warm red light now emanated from his hardened soul, specifically from the crack he’d opened in its surface. He checked the door again, and listened for a moment, afraid Rus would knock or try the door and find it locked. Afraid he’d simply teleport inside. He heard nothing but the sound of running water, so he returned his attention to his soul.

Again, gritting his teeth, braced for the pain, he dragged a claw down the crack in his soul’s surface. Something tore, and he had to swallow down a groan, leaning on his elbows as his knees buckled. Raw magic dripped from his soul and into the sink, forming a small puddle of red. His skull spun, but a strange sort of euphoria surged through him, causing his bones to relax.

He wasn’t going into heat. Not until he decided he was ready.

With no gag reflex, purging excess magic was a somewhat challenging prospect, but souls healed quickly, and as long as he was careful, it wouldn’t do any lasting damage. When the mana in his soul had clotted around the small tear, he put his soul back in place and de-manifested it. The loose feeling had returned to his limbs, but that tide of euphoria hadn’t faded yet. He still had control of himself, of his body. He’d suffer feeling loose-limbed and unsteady for that. It was an acceptable sacrifice.

Before climbing into the tub, he rinsed the sink out completely and unlocked the door, using the sink to support his shaky legs as he undressed. He washed quickly, the hot water making his head spin. Out in the bedroom, Rus had kindly laid out a pair of boxers and a clean undershirt for him—his preferred sleepwear. Less kindly, he’d chosen the ridiculous pair of boxers he’d been given last Gyftmas as a joke; a pair of skeletal hands was stamped across the rear, and the front was better left unconsidered.

“I thought I burnt these,” he said, holding them between two fingers as if he thought they were dirty. (They were, just not in the literal sense.)

Rus came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Edge’s ribcage and resting his chin on his shoulder. “heh. nah. i switched ‘em out at the last minute. how are you feeling?”

Edge leaned into him, allowing Rus to support some of his weight. “Tired.”

Rus chuckled. “you must be sick if you’re willing to admit that. should i call an ambulance?”

Mouth quirked upward just slightly, Edge shook his head. “No, but you should go get me a different pair of underwear.”

“no problem, babe, you want the lace ones? crotchless? i can pop over to the store real quick if you—“

Edge laughed softly, turning in his embrace to kiss him gently. They pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you,” Edge murmured, holding on to him. “For being patient with me. I know I behaved poorly.”

Rus walked him toward the bed, pushing him down. “you can make it up to me by resting. and i don’t care what kind of emergency goes down at the embassy—someone else can take care of it today, alright?”

“Deal.” Normally, Edge would balk at that, but he had to admit that sleep sounded wonderful. While he pulled on the inoffensive undershirt, Rus got him a more acceptable pair of boxers. Soon enough, they were both wrapped up under the covers and around each other. “I’m going to get you sick,” Edge murmured in sudden realization, already starting to drift off.

“don’t worry about that,” Rus reassured him, petting along his skull and cervical vertebrae. “just rest. you’ll feel better after a good nap—i always do.”

Edge thought he had a response to that, but his sockets were shut and Rus’ hands felt so nice…and the bed was soft and…the sheets smelled clean and….

He slept.

Chapter Text

Twist sighed, eyeing the pair of skeletons waiting on his porch. “Damn it,” he said under his breath, rubbing the space between his brow-bones. He’d only just gotten his LV settled—he was not up to this right now. Simply asking them to leave wasn’t an option, so he rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and shook a cigarette out of the pack. Drawing the smoke into his thoracic cavity, he mentally braced himself and started forward, adopting his customary loose-limbed, ambling gait.

Smoke leaking from the sides of his jaw, he walked up behind Red and leaned his forearm on his head. Normally, Red would elbow him in the ribcage for that, but this time, he just scrubbed the top of his skull and ducked out from under him. His grin was friendly, but it didn’t reach his sockets. “heya, bro. ‘sup?”

Twist’s jaw twitched. So that was the game, huh? He smiled, cocking his head to the side. “Not much. Wha’ brings the two ‘a ya ta my doorstep ‘fore the sun’s up, huh?”

Red’s skeletal grin didn’t waver, but Twist could feel himself being weighed and judged. “oh, ya know. jus’ thought we’d stop by ta say ‘hey’—“ While he talked, Slim came to stand behind him and silenced him by planting his hands on Red’s shoulders. Red shot him a confused look, but Slim was focused exclusively on Twist.

The weight of Red’s judging eyelights was nothing compared to the worry and concern in Slim’s. Twist’s cheekbones grew hot, as if he’d been caught with more than his hand in the cookie jar. He swallowed but didn’t look away, instead forcing a smile as he took another long drag on his cigarette. “Well ‘heya’, then. Ya come all the way ‘ere jus’ fer that?”

Slim’s hands tightened on Red’s shoulders, but Red’s smile remained fixed and rigid. “mighta heard ya were havin’ a spider problem. any truth ta that?”

The smoke in Twist’s thoracic cavity burned. He curled his hand closed, the tips of his claws pricking his metacarpals. He rolled his head and swept past them, deciding it was time to cut this conversation short. “hey!” Red scrambled to catch up to him, shaking Slim off. “so it’s true—?”

Twist sighed, his hand on the doorknob. He looked skyward, before turning to glare at them. “If it is? So what? The fuck ‘er you two gonna do ‘bout it? Go home, mind yer own problems, yeah? I know ya don’ need ta be borrowin’ mine.”

Red started to answer, but Twist stepped inside and locked the door behind him. He only made it two steps into the room before Slim teleported directly in front of him. He swore, but Slim touched the back of his hand, looking up at him plaintively. He didn’t say anything, but Twist could feel the warmth and the concern pouring off him.

“Ah, damn it, darlin’.” Sighing, he pulled Slim in and looped an arm over his shoulders. Slim responded by embracing him fully, and Twist buried his face in Slim’s neck, the ruff of his jacket ticking his nasal aperture. “’m fine, sweetheart,” he said, speaking directly into Slim’s acoustic meatus. Slim squeezed him tight, his grip surprisingly strong. “Promise ya; ‘m fine. She ain’t gonna make it up ‘ere. Not fer long. Lady like her don’ know how ta follow the rules. She’s gonna find ‘erself back Un’erground soon ‘nough. Don’ worry ‘bout it, darlin’. An’ don’ worry ‘bout me. I c’n take care ‘a myself.”

“ya sure ‘bout that?”

Twist sighed, pulling away from Slim to glare down at Red. “Ya know, ‘m gettin’ real tired ‘a the teleportin’ trick.” Before Red could respond, Twist called down the hall. “Bro! Hey, bro—we got guests.” He speared Red and Slim with a look. “You two wanna come bargin’ in, stirrin’ things up, then you c’n stay fer breakfast. Bro!”

Red and Slim looked at each other, obviously confused. Berry appeared at the end of the hall, still in his pajamas. “Brother, what…?” He stopped, staring at the two of them with wide sockets.

Smirking, Twist clapped one hand on each of their shoulders and pushed them forward, like an offering. “We got guests!” he said, grinning forcibly. “Found ‘em on the doorstep after my run. Looks like they ain’t had breakfast yet.”

Hands on his hips, Berry glared at him. “Brother, you know you’re supposed to let me know when we have people coming over! I have no idea what I have in the fridge and the pantry still needs to be restocked after last week.” Realizing he was being rude, Berry’s sockets widened again and he took their hands, leading them away from Twist and into the small dining room. “Not that you aren’t both welcome! I’m very happy to have you here! I’m just not sure what to make for breakfast….”

“They c’n teleport ta the store if ya need anything.” Twist caught Red’s eyelight and winked.

“Papy! Don’t be absurd! They’re guests. You will be going to the store if we require anything.”

“Whatever ya wan’, little bro.”

Berry nodded his satisfaction and started to survey the pantry shelves. “You’d better wake Cash too; it’s rude of him not to come out and say hello to our guests.”

“Sure thing!” He started down the hallway, whistling quietly. He opened Cash’s door without knocking and slipped inside. He shut it quietly, but Cash sat up anyway, magic already cupped in his hand. Twist just winked at him. “Sorry ta wake ya, darlin’. Go back ta sleep. I’m jus’ gonna be sneakin’ out the back.”

Still muzzy from sleep, Cash watched him walk over to the window and shimmy it open. “twist. what the fuck?”

“Jus’ gonna be a sec’nd, sweetheart. Then I’ll be outta yer hair.” He hunched down and awkwardly clambered out and into the backyard, turning to give Cash a mocking salute when his feet were safely on the ground. Cash just stared at him, good socket squinting. “Little bro’s makin’ breakfast if ya wanna join in.”

With that, Twist tucked his hands into his pockets and went out the side gate, texting Rus once he reached the street. There was absolutely no reason he should be the only one that had to deal with concerned loved ones this morning, and Edge deserved it after abandoning him to Red and Slim. Just as he started to tuck it back into his pocket, the phone began to ring, the strains of Pink Floyd’s ‘Money’ signaling that it was Cash calling.

Twist briefly considered ignoring it, but just before it stopped ringing, he picked up. “Tex’s Taxidermy! You snuff ‘em, we stuff ‘em. How c’n I help ya?” He kept his voice cheerful and upbeat, even as his soul burned in his chest.

“twist, what the fuck?”

It was always strange, seeing things through Cash’s eyelight. Half the world came in crisp and clear. The other was completely dark, casting a strange shadow across his doubled vision. He shut his sockets and shook his head, trying—fruitlessly—to clear it. “Wha’s wrong, darlin’? I already use that one on ya? I got ‘nother one, if ya wan’—“

Cash turned his head, and Twist could see his brother’s concerned expression. Slim looked absolutely heartbroken, and Red looked pissed. Twist swallowed, tamping down the rising tide of guilt. “are you going to explain why you climbed out my window? or at least explain what the fuck you think you’re doing?”

Twist’s fingers twitched, itching for another cigarette. “’s a crime ta get some fresh air, now?”

Cash didn’t say anything, unimpressed.

Sighing, Twist scratched along his mandible. “Ain’t gonna be babysat by a pair ‘a monsters with less ‘an 5 HP between ‘em,” he said, momentarily dropping his cheery tone. “’specially when my LV’s all riled up. Safer fer them—fer everybody—if I step outside fer a bit. Get some air. Enjoy yer breakfast, yeah?”

Cash looked very deliberately at Berry, who reached for the phone. The look on his face caused Twist’s soul to plummet. “your brother wants to talk to you.”

“Tell ‘im I’ll see ‘im later.”

“tell him yourself, you fucking coward.”

Twist hung up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He could feel his sins crawling on his back. /Don’t give me that do goody-good bullshit/, the phone wailed again. And again. And again. Finally, it fell silent. Throat tight, he pulled out another cigarette and lit it, tasting smoke and tobacco. He walked without purpose or intent, just allowing his feet to carry him forward until he found himself in a small public park.

He sat at a bench and cradled his skull in his hands. How did it come to this? They’d reached the Surface. The Angel had come and freed them from their Underground prison. Things were supposed to be good up here. And they were. They had been. Mostly. Even if his LV hung over him, an ever-present threat he had no means of fighting, he’d otherwise been happy and content. Happier than he’d been in a long, long time. He dropped his hands from his skull and leaned his elbows on his knees, fingers intertwined.

His phone vibrated against his hip, chirping but not ringing. A text, then. With a sigh, he dug it out, deciding that he was just going to turn the damn thing off. Then he saw the message on screen, and his marrow ran cold.

What a lovely home you have, dearie.

He could hear mana rushing through his skull, pulsing in time with the hammering of his soul. His ankle monitor vibrated against his shin in warning, and he shut his sockets, trying to settle his magic. His phone chirped again, and his hand clenched around it. His ribcage felt tight. Strained. He opened his sockets.

I just adore the window treatments. (: Your brother must have done the decorating. I know it wasn’t you.

He could very nearly hear her laughter. He opened the messenger app, his clawed fingers fumbling over the touchscreen. His hands were shaking. how’d u get this number?

A trio of dots appeared at the bottom of the screen as she typed out her response.

(: That would be telling~

The trio of dots reappeared before a new message came through.

You ought to be more cautious, dearie. Jogging can be a very dangerous hobby. Especially so early in the morning.

His cheekbone felt wet. He reached up and found magic leaking from his damaged socket. He hurriedly wiped it away, gold magic smearing across his hoodie’s sleeve. Taking a deep breath, he stood and started to pace in front of the park bench. It was tempting to let himself believe she was just trying to mess with him, but he’d have to be both blind and a good deal dumber than he actually was to miss the veiled threats in her messages.

She knew where he lived, and she knew his schedule. He’d already guessed that she was following him, but this just confirmed it. Which meant she probably knew where he worked and when Berry was alone in the house. She had his fucking phone number. That wasn’t publicly available information. It wasn’t something she could have found out just by following him either, which meant she’d managed to buy it off someone.

He ground the heel of his hand against his shattered cheekbone, smearing more mana on his sleeve. Soul pounding, he called her number. It only rang once before she picked up.

“Hello, Papyrus. Or should I call you ‘Twist’, ahuhuhu~?”

He swallowed, blinking rapidly to try to clear his vision. Looking at the world through eight eyes was more than merely disorienting—he could barely tell up from down, and he was swiftly growing nauseous. Swallowing back bile, he squeezed his sockets shut and found his voice. “Don’ worry, sweetheart. Ya won’ have ta call me anything, ‘cause this is the last time we’re gonna talk. Yer gonna tell me what the fuck ya wan’, an’ then yer gonna leave me an’ my brother—an’ the rest ‘a my friends an’ fam’ly—alone. Ya got it? So what the fuck do ya wan’? Gold? Money? A favor? Jus’ name yer price, darlin’. ‘m all ears.” He wondered if she could hear the tremor in his voice, or if he was just imagining it.

“Ahuhuhu~. You know me so well, dearie. I do love my gold….” Her clawed fingers swam into focus as she studied them. He furrowed his brows. Her claws were broken and ragged, worn down to the nail bed, and the pearlescent pink polish was old and chipped. She lifted her head and his soul roiled, his nausea reawakening.

“How much?” he rasped, trying to fight back a migraine.

She tsked softly. “Oh, dearie. You underestimate your debt. Between the cost of caring for you and your brother, the cost of your complete incompetence, and the cost of reparations…I’m afraid you can’t afford to pay it off.”

Despite his mounting illness, he laughed, though there was no humor in it. “’Reparations’? That what yer callin’ it? Tell me, sweetheart, exac’ly how much did it cost ya? Havin’ yer favorite toy run off ta Snowdin, where ya couldn’t get to ‘im? Bet that really boiled yer blood, huh? Bet it was fuckin’ humiliatin’—“

“Shut. Up.”

Tasting blood ichor, he smiled. “Nah, darlin’. I dont think I will. I ain’t yer fuckin’ toy no more, sweetheart. An’ this game yer playin’ ain’t gonna end well fer ya. I ain’t the same scared little kid that showed up on yer doorstep. Ain’t even the same monster that slipped yer leash.” Certainly not the same one that she’d repeatedly tortured and abused. “Yer walkin’ on dang’rous ground, but ‘m a nice guy so ‘m gonna give ya the chance ta tell me what ya wan’, an’ then we c’n both go our sep’rate ways, smiles all around. Whaddaya say?”

She sighed. “Empty threats, Papyrus? I expected better. We both know you don’t have the balls to kill me. Besides, you can’t even access your magic. You’re helpless.”

He could almost make sense of what he was looking at now, and he wasn’t surprised to see blue skies and green grass. Was she watching him right now? “Darlin’, think we both know I don’ need my magic ta kill, an’ I think we both know my LV’s higher’n yours now. Don’ go bitin’ off more’n you c’n chew, yeah?” She didn’t say anything. “Well, it’s been fun, sweetheart, but I gotta go. See ya ‘round—or, if yer as smart as ya think ya are, I won’t.”

He hung up and stared down at his phone for a few moments before shutting it off entirely. It had caused him more than enough grief for today. Shoving it back into his pocket, he took a deep breath and started off at a brisk walk, determined to lose anyone that might be watching. He crossed the park and started toward the human side of the city, before darting down a back alley. He took a running start and vaulted the fence that split the alleyway. On the other side, he immediately doubled back, heading toward downtown. A few more of his ‘shortcuts’, and he was in the middle of Monstertown, earning stares from the sightseeing humans that populated the main thoroughfare.

He should just kill her.

The thought echoed through his skull, punctuating every step and every beat of his soul. Even if she did name her price, he couldn’t trust her to hold to any deal they made. Killing her really was the only way to keep Berry and Cash and the others safe. It was the only option left. It would be easy too. So. Easy. She wasn’t exactly hiding from him, was she? All he had to do was find her and wrap his hands around her neck bash her head into a wall slip a blade between the plates of her exoskeleton just fuck it all and use his magic if he was quick enough it wouldn’t matter she’d be dead and they’d be free and—

The ankle monitor buzzed and he blinked, looking around to re-orient himself. He didn’t remember walking this way. His cheekbone was wet again, and there was a human child pointing at him and babbling to—her? his? their?—parent. He smiled at them, but he must not have gotten it right. The parent took their child and hurried them along, their pale features drained of blood.

Golden magic beaded from the cracks in his broken socket, streaming down his face and dripping from his chin. The ankle monitor pulsed again, and he shut his sockets, wiping more magic from his face. He couldn’t kill her, he reminded himself. If he killed her, he’d finally lose it. She was worth more than enough EXP—it would tip him over, up his LV to 18, and that would be it for him. He’d be well and truly gone.

But, of course, so would she.

He covered his sockets, trying to get control of himself. Magic ran hot through his mana lines, and his soul felt tight and constricted. His leg was bouncing, and he couldn’t keep his fingers from picking at his clothing or his shattered socket. He needed to do something. His whole being itched with it. But he couldn’t go home. Couldn’t trust himself around Cash or Slim or Red or Berry. Not now. Not like this. So he couldn’t lose himself in a project, and he couldn’t hit Edge up for a sparring match. And with Muffet—or ‘Ella’ or whatever the fuck she was calling herself—around, he couldn’t afford to take any of his special tea and lose himself until his LV finally settled.

A semi-hysterical laugh bubbled up, but he covered his mouth, holding it back. Well, there was always door number three, right?

Grillby Boris kept late hours, and he didn’t seem happy to be roused by Twist pounding on his door mid-morning. But he didn’t slam the door in Twist’s face and that was probably a good sign, right? “Heya, sweetheart. ‘m lookin’ ta blow off some steam. Ya up fer it?”

Boris eyed him, noting the gleam in his eyelight and the fresh magic crusted around his broken socket. A slow smile spread across his face, and he stepped aside, sweeping his arm wide in invitation. Twist swallowed and stepped through the doorway, preparing himself. As soon as the door clicked shut, Boris tore at his hoodie, nearly ripping it from his body. His mouth was hot and unforgiving, and his tongue seared Twist’s inner jaw, scalding his magic when it manifested.

It hurt. Boris’ hands around his wrists, bruising. Burning. He wasn’t gentle when he took him either, driving into Twist with punishing force. His cock seared his inner walls, driving the breath from his thoracic cavity. Twist didn’t complain, instead goading him into harder, harsher treatment. “That all ya got fer me?” He bit and scratched and earned more bruises, more scorch-marks. It hurt, but this wasn’t about pleasure. The rough treatment brought him back to the moment, and it drove away his unwanted thoughts.

That was really all Twist wanted from the encounter, all he expected.

When they were both spent, Twist lit a cigarette off Boris’ chest, winking when the fire elemental glared at him. “Thanks, sweetheart. Jus’ what I needed.” Boris scowled at his cheery attitude and his cheeky smile. “Sleep well, darlin’. I’ll show myself out.”

He stood, naked. He didn’t bother to wipe the spent magic from his pelvis, and he ignored the marks on his ribs, the bruises on his hips, only frowning when he saw the scorch marks around his cervical vertebrae and his wrists. “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart—ain’t I told ya not ta mark me up where anybody c’n see it?”

Uncaring, Boris shrugged, lounging against the piled pillows. Twist rolled his eyelight. He probably had a scarf or something in his inventory, and his hoodie sleeves were long enough to cover the marks on his— A sharp snap drew his attention, and he turned back to Boris. “What? Ya wanna go ‘gain? Didn’t think ya had it in ya, darlin’,” he said, knowing that Boris was most certainly not up for another round.

Boris’ scowl deepened, but he shook off his annoyance. Leaning forward, he held up his hands and started signing. ‘You have a spider problem.’

Twist’s teasing grin grew frigid. “Now whaddaya know ‘bout that?”

Boris dismissed the question with a flick of his fingers. ‘I can help you with that.’

“Oh, yeah? Outta the kindness ‘a yer heart? Tha’s real sweet, darlin’, but I—“

The words his hands formed caused Twist’s soul to stutter. ‘Spend your heat with me, and I’ll take care of your spider.’ Boris smirked, revealing the teal fire at the core of his green-hued body.

Twist swallowed, then cleared his throat and started picking up his clothes. He reached for something snarky to say, something teasing. Anything that might hide how badly the offer had rattled him, but his mouth was bone-dry and the burn marks across his wrists and neck were starting to sting. He couldn’t think of anything more coherent than, “I’ll think about it.”

‘Do.’

He pulled his hoodie on and headed out. He checked the street, looking for any sign of Muffet—or anyone that looked like they were paying him any undue interest. She’d never been fond of getting her hands dirty, and she’d never had any trouble convincing other people to do it for her. He had no reason to assume things had changed now that they were on the Surface. Not seeing anything suspicious, he started down the street, wandering. His LV was finally settled, his mind was his own once again, and if he turned on his phone, he’d probably be greeted with more than few missed calls and sternly worded voice messages, but he wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet.

He had some thinking to do.

Chapter Text

“thanks, muffet. really appreciate it.” Muffet—or Spinnerette, as she was called now—eyed him suspiciously, holding out a hand. “uh, i’m kinda in a hurry. do you mind putting it on my—“

She pointed at what had to be a new sign, posted very prominently on the register. ‘Absolutely no tabs. All services must be paid for up front.’ Despite himself, Rus cracked a smile. “so i guess that means you met slim and sans, huh?”

Her mouthparts twitched as she tried not to return the grin. Her hands flashed in a pidgin mix of Underswap Hands and the local sign language they used in this part of the Surface. ‘I have.’ She took his money with one set of hands, while the other sets continued to sign rapidly. Spinnerette had always been a bit of a fast-talker. ‘How’s your boytoy?’

Rus frowned a little, pulling the bag of soup, scones, and tea closer to his chest. Edge would hate being referred to like that, but he knew Spinnerette didn’t mean anything by it. “he’s, uh, he’s not feeling so hot right now.” He nodded toward the soup. “i figured your cooking would do him more good than mine.” She shook her head, smiling as she remembered some of his attempts at cooking.

Two sets of her hands moved independently of each other, resulting in two disconnected sentences layered together. ‘You could do with a little practice. When do I get to meet him?’

Rus ignored one sentence to answer the other. “soon. probably. you know how it is—it seems like everyone’s so busy, now that we’re on the surface.”

‘It better be ‘soon’, or I might start to think you’re hiding him from me. Are you worried I’ll disapprove? Or are you worried he’ll disapprove?”

Rus winced a little. “it’s not that. you’ll love him when you meet him. look, i need to get back—we’ll have to catch up later. thanks again for the soup!”

Again, her sentences ran together. ‘Of course, dearie—anytime. Remember to bring your boytoy by when he’s feeling better.’

He waved at her before teleporting back to the house, aware that it might be a while before Edge would be ready to meet Spinnerette. In the kitchen, Rus ladled out a bowl of chicken noodle soup and poured both a glass of orange juice and a cup of Spinnerette’s tea. Edge had been in bed all morning, and it was time to see if he could be coaxed into eating. His soul hadn’t manifested and he seemed more interested in sleep than in sex, which meant he probably was getting sick and the extra mana would be good for him.

Rus knocked gently on the bedroom door before he entered, so Edge wouldn’t startle. He stirred, sitting up when he noticed the tray. “What is that?”

“uh, we’ve got soup and tea and orange juice. i can make toast too, if you want, or we’ve got scones downstairs.” He set the tray on the bedside table, sitting on the edge of the bed. “how’re you feeling now? did the nap help?”

Edge kept eyeing the tray with something like suspicion. “Where did you get this?” he asked, poking the bowl. “You didn’t make it, did you?”

Rus snickered. “no. i want you to get better, not worse. i went to a place downtown, edgelord. it’s entirely edible—cross my heart.” He made a show of drawing an ‘X’ just beneath his left collarbone.  

Telling Edge he got it from a Muffet—any Muffet—seemed like a bad idea. Maybe Edge picked up on that omission, because he scrutinized the soup’s contents, as if he didn’t fully trust it. “Hmph. We’re skeletons—we don’t have hearts. In any case, I’m not hungry.”

“babe, c’mon.” Edge looked up at him, and Rus reached out, cupping his cheekbone. “i know you don’t feel good, but you need the extra mana if you want to get better. just have a little? for me?”

Edge eyed the soup and the orange juice. “…You said you’d make toast?”

Rus smiled, shoulders relaxing a little. “sure thing, precious. i can make toast for you. i’ll be right back.” He scratched along Edge’s coronal suture, then got up to head downstairs. Optimistically, he toasted four slices of bread, cutting them in half and buttering them before he went back upstairs. To his surprise, when he returned with the small tower of toast triangles, Edge had managed to eat half the bowl of soup and most of the orange juice. He smiled, seeing that. “see? you were hungrier than you thought.”

Tiredly, Edge nodded, dipping a piece of toast in the remaining broth and swirling it around the bowl. He nibbled at it, but it looked like whatever enthusiasm he’d had for the food had died. “so, you didn’t answer me earlier—are you feeling better?” Edge nodded noncommittally, and Rus braced himself. “that’s good. so, uh…is there…is there anything you want to, um…to talk about?”

Edge slowly turned to look at him. “Not in particular, no. Why?” His brow-bone cocked as he asked.

Rus looked away, wishing Edge would let him smoke inside. How did he bring this up? Edge was obviously upset, but ‘things that upset him’ was probably right at the top of his list of things that he didn’t want to talk about. Rus sighed and reached for his hand. He caught his gaze and held it. “you nearly had a panic attack earlier. you maybe want to talk to me about that?”

Edge’s cheekbones flushed red, and he pulled his hand away, sitting stiff and still. “It was nothing. Just nerves, like you said.” His tone was sharp and crisp, almost cutting.

“edge—“

“It was nothing, Rus. Let it go.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone made it clear he wouldn’t discuss the matter further.

Rus didn’t know what to do. Would he incite another panic attack if he pushed further? Or would that only push Edge away? He didn’t want to do either, and he definitely didn’t want to start an argument while Edge was sick. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and forced a smile. “okay, babe. if you’re sure.” Edge’s shoulders relaxed, and this time, he didn’t pull away when Rus leaned in to kiss his temple. “i’ll let you rest, then. you’ll let me know if you need something?”

“Of course.”

“and…you know you can always talk to me, right? about anything.”

Edge’s jaw twitched, and he audibly exhaled. Not quite a sigh, but enough to show that the question irritated him. “Yes. I know.”

Rus stood, not really sure what to do with himself. He took the tray downstairs, but left the tea and toast. Mechanically, he washed the dishes and ate, though the soup had cooled considerably. Not wanting to disturb Edge while he was resting, he busied himself by lying on the couch and flipping through the book of jokes and riddles he’d pilfered from the Librarby before it closed down. He memorized page after page, practicing the jokes’ delivery as he went. He knew they weren’t funny, but watching Edge or Blue sputter and sigh when he delivered a particularly unfunny punchline—or, better, PUNchline—was more entertaining than a whole librarby of joke books.

All the while, he tried his best not to think about his boyfriend. About the way he sat on the edge of the bed, eyelights unfocused and breath frozen in his thoracic cavity. Tried not to think of how tightly Edge had gripped his hips, or the soft tremors that rattled his bones as Rus tried to talk him down.

The words swam on the page. He blinked rapidly to clear his sockets and exhaled slowly. Now how did this one go? Throat tight, he reached out and tapped lightly against the coffee table. Knock, knock.

“Who’s there?”

Rus jumped, looking up as Edge came down the stairs. “i thought you were asleep!”

“‘I thought you were asleep’ who?” Unable to think of a witty reply, Rus just blinked at him. “You might need to workshop that one,” Edge said, sitting on the other side of the couch, “I’m afraid I don’t get the punchline.”

“babe, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Edge lifted his chin. “I am more than well enough to watch a movie with my boyfriend!”

Rus couldn’t hold back his smile, the corners of his sockets crinkling at Edge’s lofty tone and attitude. Whatever else might be going on, Edge was still the edgy bonefriend he knew and loved. He just wasn’t ready to talk yet, and Rus would have to respect that. So he swallowed down his worry and kept his words light. “alright, but only if you promise to relax.” Just as he said ‘relax’, he tugged Edge down into a prone position, lying mostly in Rus’ lap. Before he could protest, Rus pulled a quilt off the back of the couch and tucked it around him. “there! nice and cozy.”

Even as he allowed Rus to fuss over him, Edge huffed. “I will not be infantilized.”

“aw, c’mon, babe; let me baby you just a little bit?” Rus winked, and Edge gave a long-suffering sigh. Nevertheless, he didn’t protest when Rus scratched along his coronal suture. “how’s that feel?”

Sockets shut, Edge settled into a more comfortable position, bones relaxing and softening. “’S nice….” Rus smiled, even as his soul squeezed uncomfortably. He just wished Edge didn’t have to be sick in order to settle down and let Rus take care of him.

“you wanted to watch a movie?” Edge nodded, sockets still shut. “okay, precious. i’ve got just the thing.” He turned on the tv and brought up the menu, clicking through his saved lists until he found one of the old Westerns he knew Edge enjoyed. As the cheesy music swelled, Edge’s sockets briefly cracked open, and he offered one of those small, private smiles he saved for Rus alone.

“Thank you.”

Rus smiled, scratching that spot at the rear of his mandible. Edge’s sockets closed on a happy sigh. “anytime, precious.”

With Edge resting against him, content and relaxed, Rus’ concerns started to fade. Edge said he was fine, right? So maybe he really was fine, despite any evidence to the contrary. Maybe he just needed a little space to work things out for himself. Maybe Rus would only make it worse if he tried to meddle. Clinging to that, Rus got Edge to eat another bowl of soup after the movie, then they both headed up to the bedroom for the night. He was certain that things would be brighter in the morning.

But, when Monday morning rolled around, Rus blinked awake before the sun had risen and found himself alone in their bed. “edge?” There was no answer. Tugging the comforter around himself, he stood up and wiped the sleep from his sockets. He padded downstairs, stopping at the foot of the staircase when he found Edge sitting at the table in his joggers and sweatshirt. “edge?”

He looked up. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

Rus shook his head, confused. “are you going out?” His voice was still scratchy from sleep.

Edge raised a brow-bone. “Yes? I’m going running. Like I do every morning.”

Re-adjusting the comforter, Rus took a step toward him. “babe, you were sick yesterday. you should still be in bed.”

“I feel much better today,” Edge said, pulling on his socks, “I’ll be back in about an hour. Please, go back to bed. You won’t even know I’m gone.”

“if you’re not careful, you’re gonna run yourself ragged.” Edge glared at him for the punny language, but Rus’ smile was weak and worried. “c’mon, precious. i’m glad you’re feeling better, but you know this is a bad idea. right?”

Edge just looked down at his feet and began tying his shoes with unnecessary force. “I know no such thing.”

Rus stared at him, uncomprehending. He didn’t know what to say or do. Edge was infamously stubborn, and the best way to get him to do something was to tell him not to do it. Or hope it was his idea in the first place. Normally, Rus found that quality charming and, on occasion, funny, but not when Edge was doing something like this. “edge, c’mon, just take one day off. you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Edge scoffed and stood. “Don’t be absurd. Just go back to bed—“

“stop saying that!” Rus’ frantic cry surprised them both. Edge blinked and stared at him, while Rus’ soul hammered hard. “please. i’m…i’m worried. you’ve…you haven’t been yourself for the last few days.” He swallowed, trying to find the words he needed. “i don’t know if you were getting sick and trying to hide it or if there’s something else going on, but i’m officially worried now. i need…i need you to talk to me. please.”

While he spoke, Edge’s gaze slipped away, fixed somewhere just past Rus’ shoulder. Breathing hard after his outburst, Rus reached for him, but he flinched away. It made Rus’ soul ache. His fingers closed around nothing, and he withdrew his reaching hand. “is this…is this about your heat?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Edge slipped past him without speaking, his whole body taut. “edge—edge, stop! please! just-just talk to me!”

Hand around the doorknob, Edge visibly fought with himself. His shoulders were hiked up nearly to his mandible, and every bone in his body was tense. Then he shut his sockets and his head bowed forward, something like defeat causing his shoulders to sag. He leaned against the door, allowing it to support him. “i can’t.” Edge’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. He cleared it, forcing some of his customary strength back into his words. “I need time,” he finally said, still not looking at him. “I can’t talk about it. Not yet.”

Rus’ soul squeezed, but he had to know: “just with me? would you be more comfortable talking with red? or-or someone?” The idea was unpleasant, but Rus wasn’t going to let something as petty as jealousy keep Edge from getting whatever help he needed.

Edge winced again, still leaning against the door. “You’re not the problem,” he said, voice hoarse. “If I was going to talk about this with anyone, it would be you.”

There was something raw in his voice, something that made Rus’ soul ache. “is there something i can do?” Edge shook his head. “you know i love you, right? no matter what.”

Edge flinched, but he nodded. “I know.” He swallowed and took a breath, his fingerbones rattling against the doorknob. “I don’t…I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Relief bubbled up like laughter, sudden and inappropriate. “you? disappoint—me? babe, i don’t know if you’ve noticed but my standards are not that—“ The joke died in his mouth when he saw Edge’s whole body shudder and contract. It looked like he’d just been struck. Rus’ mouth went dry. He didn’t know what to say. “you won’t disappoint me. stars, babe, i can’t even imagine—“ Edge only winced again, leaving Rus floundering. “i’m here,” he finally said, though the words felt limp and lame. “whatever you need. i’m here.”

Edge still wouldn’t look at him. “Right now, I need to go on my run. Excuse me.” The door swung open and clicked shut behind him with uncomfortable finality.

Rus’ knees went weak and he sat down heavily, running his hands over his skull. He’d always known Edge to be a steady, stable presence in his life. He’d thought of him as a rock, something solid to cling to when everything else seemed so fragile and changeable. It was hard to see that stolid demeanor shaken—especially by something he considered to be both normal and natural. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help. His attempts at comfort seemed paltry, even insulting in retrospect, but Edge wouldn’t talk to him. How could he help if Edge wouldn’t let him?

Underground, Rus had learned what it was to be helpless. He’d first learned it in the Labs, at his many hands. The lesson had been reinforced when they escaped, and he watched as guardians, teachers, and friends Fell Down. Knowing that there was nothing he could do to help, that their only hope lay in the hands of a mythical Angel, he’d grown used to it, had learned to embrace it, believing that there was no use in trying when nothing he did ever accomplished anything. Somehow, he thought the Surface would be different. Yet that sense of helplessness was welling up again.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, wiping a stray tear from his cheekbone. He just needed to focus, to think. Edge said he couldn’t help, but surely that wasn’t true. Surely there was something he could do. Anything.

Then he remembered. Sans. Sans and Razz. In many ways, their relationship was a parallel to Rus and Edge’s. Razz was just as Fell as Edge, minus a few LV. And he’d just gone through his own heat, if the rumor mill was to be believed. The idea of Razz and Edge sitting down for a heart-to-heart was laughable, but maybe Sans could help Rus. Maybe he had some advice, and at this point, Rus was more than willing to take it.

He went and found his phone. It was too early for a call, but Sans slept too soundly to be disturbed by a text. In keeping with their relationship, he sent two emojis—a tin can and a talking head. (Can we talk?) There was no reason to alarm him by writing out the request in full, no reason to let him know that there was anything wrong. Not yet. Rus had no intention of revealing more than he absolutely had to. His proud edgelord would be humiliated if anyone had any idea he was struggling, and Rus would never betray him like that.

Text sent, there was nothing left to do but wait. For Edge to get home. For Sans to reply. The feelings of helplessness started to coil around him again, and he reached for the joke book. Mouth dry, he found his place and reached out, knocking on the coffee table. Knock, knock.

“who’s there?”

N o b o d y

Chapter Text

Twist still wasn’t home.

Blackberry checked the clock again, then eyed the rapidly cooling food he’d laid out for dinner. Red and Slim were sitting on the couch playing video games. Blackberry might have resented them for playing around while his brother was still missing, but they’d spent the whole morning with their feet on the ground, teleporting between Twist’s various haunts until sweat had beaded on their features and their fingers shook with overexertion. Even now, their normal banter was subdued, and Slim kept checking the door whenever he heard the slightest sound.

Blackberry had tried to send them home after they’d all concluded that, if Twist didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be found, but they’d insisted on staying until he returned. For everything they’d done, Blackberry could at least feed them. He checked the clock again. If his brother wasn’t home soon, though, he’d have to find a place for both of them to sleep too. He cleared his throat. “Dinner’s ready.”

Red glanced at the food. Ever since Red had moved into his own apartment, he’d fallen on any homecooked meals offered to him with a ravenous enthusiasm that made Blackberry worry he wasn’t properly feeding himself now that he was living alone. He and Twist had started finding any excuse to invite him over, then insisting he stay for dinner. Now, though, Red just went back to their game. “we c’n wait fer yer bro.” Grimly, Slim nodded his agreement.

Their concern warmed him, but he shook his head. “It’s already starting to get cold. Please. Eat.” They looked at each other. “I’ll save him a plate. Besides…” Blackberry took a deep breath, trying to hide the shaking in his voice. “…we have no idea when he’s going to be back. So, please; help yourselves.”

Slim flinched, and Red slung a heavy arm over his shoulders. “right. thanks, ‘berry. looks great.”

Blackberry nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment, absent-minded though it was. “I’ll get Cash.”

As they stood, stretching stiff bones, Blackberry dried his hands on a kitchen towel, twisting the fabric between his fingers. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck and spine; the kitchen was hot, and as he stepped onto the front porch, the cool evening air set his bones prickling. Cash sat at the bottom of the steps, a full ashtray at his side.

Blackberry closed the door behind him. Cash barely glanced back before dismissing him. “Any sign of him?”

Cash didn’t reply, just lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. Blackberry’s hands clenched around the towel, wanting nothing more than to throw it at the back of Cash’s head. He hadn’t bothered to help them look for Twist. When they came back from their search, they’d found him just as they’d left him—lying on the couch, playing around on his phone. Anger rose like bile, but he swallowed it back, his soul aching.

(“I’ll tell you everything I know.”)

Whatever hope he’d had that Cash might actually repay the debt he owed his brother had been quashed, and he felt foolish for ever thinking he would. Cash wasn’t the type to pay his debts without encouragement, and Twist…. In another time, with a different monster, Twist would have taken what he was owed if it wasn’t offered up in a timely fashion. Blackberry was glad they no longer lived in that time and place, grateful his brother no longer had to rely on violence to keep them safe. Nevertheless, he sometimes wished that Twist wasn’t so soft on people that so obviously didn’t deserve his Mercy.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“not hungry.”

Anger burned through him, his claws pricking through the towel. “Then find somewhere else to lurk.”

Only now did Cash look back at him. “what?”

Blackberry glared. The magic coursing through his mana lines felt hot, like liquid fire. “You could have caught him this morning. Before he left. He went through your room, out your window. If anything happened to him, if he’s done anything—” He swallowed hard, trying not to think of Muffet, trying not to think of Twist’s cryptic references to his unstable LV. “It’ll be on your head,” he finished, voice soft.

Cash stared at him, his features inscrutable. Then he took a drag on his cigarillo before snuffing it out. “fine. what’s one more?” He stood, adjusting his coat.

Blackberry wanted to wipe the uncaring expression off his face, wanted to hurt him, to shake him, to demand to know why he didn’t give a shit about anything. Instead, as Cash stepped past him, he said, “I want you out of our house.”

He paused for only a moment, then shrugged. Still uncaring. “gladly. i’ll be happy to get away from your twist-verse drama.”

The door shut behind him, and Blackberry raised his hands to his face, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He wanted to scream or cry or—something. Agitated magic burned through his mana lines, and his soul roiled with nausea. He allowed his limbs to go loose, and he flopped to the floor, burying his head in his hands. He hated crying, and he struggled to control himself, but that only caused his soul to knot further. He sucked in a ragged breath, half hiccup and half gasp. His cheekbones felt hot and flushed already, and he could feel the tears gathering behind his sockets. He wrapped his arms around his abdominal cavity, the hiccuping getting worse as he struggled not to start sobbing.

“Bro? Wha’s wrong?”

He looked up and gasped. “Papy?”

Before Twist could answer, Blackberry flung himself into his arms, trusting his brother to catch him. He grunted when Blackberry’s weight hit him but he held fast. “Hey, hey,” he said in what was obviously intended to be a soothing tone. “Shh. Everythin’s fine. ‘S okay. Don’ cry, yeah? Everythin’s jus’ fine.”

Blackberry couldn’t hold himself together any longer. Wrenching sobs wracked him, and his hiccups had grown into heaving gasps. Twist sat them both down on the steps and held him close, murmuring soothingly while Blackberry broke down. Slowly, his breathing started to even out again, until the steady rhythm was only broken by the occasional shuddering gasp. Twist wiped the tears from his sockets and cheekbones, studying his features. “Feel better?” He nodded numbly, starting to shiver. “Did sumthin’ happen? Are ya okay?”

He shoved his brother’s arm off his shoulders and stood, glaring down at him. “Did something—? You—” Another shuddering gasp broke up his words. “—you just disappeared! I was worried.”

Twist stared up at him, blinking. “I tol’ja—my LV was actin’ up. I couldn’ stick ‘round ‘ere, ‘specially with Cash an’ Slim an’ Red ‘round.”

“You could have stayed here and had your tea! Why would you just—?” He stared at his brother plaintively, feeling helpless. “I thought….”

“What?”

Blackberry shook his head. He couldn’t make himself say the words. “You can’t jus’ disappear like tha’,” he said, hating the way his accent started to slip into his speech. “Not when she’s….”

Understanding caused Twist’s sockets to go wide. “Aw, bro—” He reached for him, pulling him into a hug. Blackberry fought him half-heartedly, still angry, but eventually settled against his brother’s side. “’M okay, sweetheart. Promise. I ain’t gonna let her get us.” He rested his head on top of Blackberry’s skull, sighing softly. “Spent ‘nough time in her web already, yeah? Ain’t lettin’ her trap us again.”

“You can’t just leave like that….” Blackberry hiccupped, still feeling like he might vomit. His cheekbones and ribcage felt flushed too, nearly feverish.

“’M sorry, bro. I didn’ think….” Twist sighed, readjusting his hold on Blackberry. More to himself than to his little brother, he murmured, “Tha’s the problem, ain’t it? Didn’ think. Never do.”

Blackberry punched him—lightly—in the ribcage, earning a startled umph. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

He shook his head, just burrowing closer. Then he furrowed his brow-bones. “Papy, what’s this?”

He reached for Twist’s wrist, pulling back his hoodie sleeve. A big, ugly burn encircled his wrist like a manacle. Flinching, Twist drew his arm back and tugged the sleeve down, not looking at him. “Don’ worry ‘bout it, bro. ‘S nuthin’.”

But Blackberry had seen those marks before. He stared at his brother, his soul sinking. “We’re on the Surface now,” he said, clutching at Twist’s jacket. “You don’t have to do that anymore!”

Twist’s brow-bones furrowed. He looked to his brother. “Whaddaya mean I don’ hafta—” His sockets went wide. He glanced at the door, confirming that they were still alone, then leaned close and dropped his voice. “Sans, didya think….” He took a breath. “Didya think I w’s screwin’ around with Boris fer ‘is protection?”

“Why else would you let him do that to you?”

Twist sat back, releasing his hold on Blackberry’s shoulder. He sighed and rubbed at the spot between his brow-bones, looking eerily like Edge in that moment. Then he lowered his hand and speared Blackberry with a meaningful look. “Alright, darlin’. We gotta have a talk. Shoulda had it ages ago, but I didn’t think….” He shook his head, looking off into the distance.

“…Papy?”

“Right. Le’s…le’s talk ‘bout this, yeah?” Twist scratched the back of his neck, his voice still pitched low. “I didn’t have any arrangement with Boris. Not fer that. When I first got ta Snowdin, we hashed out terf, made a few business agreements.” Twist glanced at him, his eyelight glittering. “So we’re clear, I didn’ come ta the bargainin’ table on my knees neither. I’d already made a name fer myself, an’ Boris ‘s a smart monster. He took me up on my offer, an’ we made nice.”

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “He tested me once. Broke our bargain.” Twist exhale slowly, folding two of his fingers down. The same fingers Boris was missing. “He learned real fast that I’m the kinda guy ya wan’ as yer friend, not yer enemy. If anyone needed pr’tection, it was him, not me.” He looked back to Blackberry. “Ya un’erstand now?”

“No.” Blackberry shook his head, standing up to back away from his brother, from what he was saying. “I know you two—” He gestured loosely, unable to say the words.

Twist was not as inhibited. “Fucked? Yeah, we did. That wasn’t business, bro.”

“But—why? If it wasn’t to keep us safe…?”

Sighing, Twist ran a hand down his face. “I dunno, Sans.” He sounded tired. Exhausted. Like the weight of the world had crashed down on him all at once. “’Cause it felt good? ‘Cause he was attractive an’ available? Maybe jus’ ‘cause I felt like it? Hey, no! C’mon.” Twist wrestled Blackberry’s hands away from his acoustic meati. “Stop tha’. I know ya don’ like hearin’ this, but ya gotta understand that sex ain’t a bad thing. Or, at least, it don’ gotta be.”

“He hurt you! He burned you! I can see the marks—why are you defending him?”

“’Cause I asked ‘im to, Sans!”

Blackberry jerked back, pushing Twist’s hands away. “You asked—? Stars above, Papyrus! Why would you ask him to hurt you?”

“Alright, tha’s gettin’ a bit personal. ‘Sides, yer missin’ the point—”

“Did you ask her to hurt you too?”

Twist flinched away, as if he’d been slapped. “How—how c’n ya ask me that? I. Of course I didn’t— Fer fuck’s sake, Sans.” He looked away, running a hand down his face. “Muffet forced me. Tha’s totally different.”

“Well, I don’t really see the difference!” Blackberry’s voice was pitched high, his breathing rapid and uneven. “Why do you let people do this to you? Why do you always let them use you like this?”

“Tha’s enough, Sans!”

But Blackberry’s mind was racing, his soul hammering. “Is this why you wouldn’t leave her? Because you managed to convince yourself you wanted her to—?”

Twist looked completely gutted; his sockets were wide and his jaw was slack. He stared at Blackberry, breathing in short, hitching gasps. “Is tha’…? Is that really whatcha think ‘a me?” Twist shook his head, swallowing thickly. Only then did Blackberry realize that, if his LV didn’t prevent it, his big brother would likely be crying.

“Wait—”

Twist shook his head. “Don’.” He took a breath and shut his sockets. When he opened them again, his features were stiff and cold, and his smile was a rigid rictus. “Think ‘m done with this conversation, sweetheart.” Blackberry had seen that expression countless times, but it had never been directed at him.

“Papy, wait. I didn’t mean—”

“Said I w’s done talkin’.” He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets. True to his word, he didn’t say anything, even when Blackberry ran up the stairs after him. He flung the door open, then froze, seeing the others. “Fuckin’ hell. None ‘a ya got nuthin’ better ta do than wait ‘round fer me all day?”

Red pushed away from the table but didn’t stand, surveying Twist carefully. “heh. guess not. where the fuck were you?”

“Showin’ yer bro a good time. Why, ya wanna turn?”

“Papy!” Blackberry blushed deeply, appalled at the lewd joke. Twist didn’t normally say things like that—at least, Blackberry had never heard him say things like that before.

Red, however, just laughed. “yeah? hafta mention tha’ ta rus next time ya see ‘im. see how ‘e takes it.”

Twist flipped him off, but the sharpness in his smile started to fade when Slim stood and asked, “are you okay?” Red caught his jacket sleeve, holding him back. He was still watching Twist carefully, red eyelights glittering.

It was hard to tell if it was Red’s caution or Slim’s worry that caused Twist to sigh and look away. “Yeah, yeah. ‘M fine, darlin’.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “‘S like I tol’ Cash this mornin’; my LV’s been actin’ up. Had ta get it outta my system.” He looked back at the three of them. “Didn’ think you guys’d wait around fer me, though.”

From the couch, Cash snorted. “i wasn’t waiting for you, asshole.”

An easy grin crossed Twist’s face and he leaned over the back of the couch to knuckle the top of Cash’s skull, earning some angry sputtering and a swat to the face. “Yeah? Ya always were the sensible one, darlin’. Saw all those messages ya left on my phone, though. Don’ pretend ya didn’ miss me.” He straightened, grin widening at Cash’s lopsided flush. His smile stiffened as soon as his sockets fell on Blackberry, though. Blackberry’s soul tightened, seeing his brother’s walls go back up and knowing he was the cause. He looked away, feeling ashamed and out of place. His nausea was only worsening, and his bones were still flushed from crying.

While Slim shook free of Red’s hold, Blackberry skirted around them. Twist had made it clear he didn’t want to talk, and he wasn’t above using the others’ presence to stave off unwelcome questions. Blackberry wasn’t going to stick around and listen to them laugh and joke, knowing that he’d hurt his brother—even if he hadn’t intended to, even if he wasn’t sure how. He slipped out of the room, ignoring the feeling of his sins crawling on his back. He thought it must be Cash giving him that look, but he didn’t turn around to confirm his suspicions.

It wasn’t Papy. He wouldn’t look at him like that. No matter how badly he’d hurt him, he wouldn’t look at him like that. Right?

In his room, he crossed his arms over his abdominal cavity, unable to determine if he was actually getting sick, or if he was just that upset. His whole body felt hot and uncomfortable, and his soul felt like it was in full rebellion. He sockets stung, but he knuckled the feeling away; he’d cried enough tonight. Swallowing thickly, he stripped out of his dirty, sweaty clothes and pulled on a fresh pair of pajamas. He felt no cleaner, but he couldn’t convince himself to cross the hall to take a shower.

He crawled under the covers, the argument with Twist replaying in his head the whole time. Twist couldn’t want what he claimed to want. He couldn’t. Not after everything Muffet had done to him. So why had he gone to Boris? Was he lying? Did they actually have a deal, and he was too ashamed to admit to it? Then why had he gone back, now that they were on the Surface? Did Boris have something on him? He couldn’t be telling the truth. He couldn’t actually want that. He couldn’t. Maybe he thought he was telling the truth, but he just didn’t know what was best for him. He was letting yet another person take advantage of him, yet another person tell him what he wanted. His poor brother was so strong in some ways, but so vulnerable in others.

Blackberry shivered and curled in on himself. He kicked the blankets off and stifled a whimper as the cool air hit him. In any case, he wasn’t in any condition to help Twist now. He was definitely coming down with something. At least his nausea was starting to fade, now that he was laying down. He rubbed at his sternum, squeezing his sockets shut.

A soft knock broke him out of his misery. “Who is it?”

“Who d’ya think?”

Blackberry sat up, tugging the blanket around himself. “Papy?”

“C’n I come in?”

He smoothed a hand over the blanket, a fine tremor running through his bones. “I thought you didn’ wanna talk.”

Silence. Then the door creaked, as if Twist was leaning against it on the other side. “Red an’ Slim said ya ain’t had dinner yet. Ain’t like ya ta skip meals, darlin’. Wan’ed ta check on ya. C’n I come in?”

He pulled in on himself, re-arranging the blanket. “Yes.”

The opened and Twist slipped inside. “Look, I know our, uh, ‘talk’ got ya a little upset, but skippin’ meals ain’t gonna help with ‘at. Ya wanna eat in here? I c’n bring ya a plate.”

He shook his head, feeling more miserable by the minute. “’m not hungry.”

Twist crossed his arms, brow-bones furrowed. He surveyed Blackberry, taking a good look at him. “Shit, bro. Ya ain’t lookin’ too good.” He stepped away from the door and pressed the back of his hand to Blackberry’s forehead. “Yer hot, darlin’. How d’ya feel?”

Blackberry shrugged listlessly. “Sick.” He adjusted the blanket again. “Nauseous. Thought I was just worried about you…but it’s getting worse.”

Frowning sympathetically, Twist nodded. “Welp, looks like yer comin’ down with sumthin’, sweetheart. Ya wan’ some tea? Maybe some toast? Think ya could keep tha’ down?”

Tea did sound good, and toast didn’t sound too objectionable. “Maybe.”

Gruff but affectionate, Twist knuckled the top of his skull. “Right, then. Be back in a sec.”

He started out the door, but Blackberry had to ask, “Papy? Are you mad at me?”

Twist froze, then looked down at the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Nah, bro. I ain’t…I ain’t mad. Ya hurt my feelings is all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know ya are, darlin’. ‘S okay. I know ya didn’ mean ta.”

He swallowed and asked, voice soft, “…did you really ask him to do that to you?”

Twist’s shoulders sagged and the air left him all at once. His features looked tired and careworn. “Don’ ask questions ya ain’t gonna like the answer to, Sans. Not ‘less yer ready ta hear ‘em.” He looked away again, inhaling deeply as he forced a grin. “Now, ‘m gonna go fetch tha’ tea an’ toast, yeah? Holler if ya need anythin’.” As he slipped out the door, his smile was firmly in place. Sweaty, nauseous, and miserable, Blackberry hunched in on himself, not sure how this day could get any worse.

His soul manifested with a soft pop.

Chapter Text

“So, what are your heat plans?” Blue asked.

Papyrus tried not to wince. Instead, he focused very intently on the pancake he was doggedly trying not to burn. “OH. UM. THE USUAL.” He poked at the pancake with his spatula, trying to determine if it was ready for flipping. Pancakes were not traditionally a dinner food, but he was working on improving his cooking, and Blue said pancakes were a good place to start.

“The usual.”

“MMH-HMM.” He gestured vaguely with the spatula. “THE USUAL.” Surely it was ready for flipping now.

“So, you haven’t asked Red if he’d be willing to stay with you?”

Papyrus fumbled the flip, causing the pancake to land half on the side of the pan. He eyed it. “THAT ONE IS YOURS.” He poked it, dissatisfied with the anemic color. Maybe he needed to turn up the heat…?

Blue rolled his eyelights. “I don’t get what you’re nervous about.”

“I AM NOT NERVOUS! THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOES NOT GET NERVOUS ABOUT THESE THINGS! A LESSER MONSTER MAY FEAR BEING REJECTED OR MISREADING SIGNALS OR-OR BEING SEEN AS CHILDISH OR UNDESIRABLE BUT—“ He poked at the pancake again. “I AM NOT A LESSER MONSTER. I AM A GREATER MONSTER. IN FACT—I AM THE GREATER PAPYRUS. YES, INDEED. AND I AM DEFINITELY. NOT. NERVOUS.”

He glanced at Blue, who cocked a brow-bone. Papyrus sighed. “ALL RIGHT. MAYBE I AM…A LITTLE NERVOUS. I JUST DON’T WANT TO GIVE HIM THE WRONG IMPRESSION.”

“Why don’t you just talk to him?”

Papyrus sighed. “I’VE TRIED. HE KEEPS AVOIDING ME. I’M BEGINNING TO THINK HE KNOWS WHAT I WANT TO TALK TO HIM ABOUT, AND HE DOESN’T WANT TO HAVE TO TELL ME ‘NO’.”

Blue winced. “Aw, geeze, Pap. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“NO, NO. ITS FINE. I’LL JUST…” He sighed. “I USED TO STAY WITH UNDYNE BUT NOW THAT SHE AND ALPHYS ARE TOGETHER, THAT SEEMS AWKWARD.”

Blue nodded. “Yeah, I can see how that would be weird. Alphys probably wouldn’t mind, but….”

Papyrus winced. “IT CERTAINLY COMPLICATES THINGS.”

“I mean, I’d see you through it. You don’t really have to ask anyone. I don’t mind.”

He smiled. “THANK YOU, BLUE. THAT’S VERY—“ Smoke curled around them, and the alarm gave off a warning beep. “FIDDLESTICKS.” Blue covered his mouth to hide his grin. “I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY; I TOLD YOU, THAT’S YOUR PANCAKE.”

“You’re getting better, at least.”

Papyrus sighed, dumping the pancake—burnt black on one side and a soft cream on the other—onto a plate and handed it to Blue, who poked at the batter oozing from the sides. “DO NOT PATRONIZE ME,” he said, nasal ridge lifted haughtily. “EVERYONE KNOWS THE FIRST PANCAKE IN THE BATCH DOESN’T COME OUT RIGHT.”

“I just want to know how you managed to both burn and undercook it.”

“OH, HUSH. IT’S NOT THAT—“ His phone started to ring before he could retort. He cast Blue a look to signify their banter was not finished, then he dug the phone out of his pocket. He nearly dropped it when he saw the caller ID. “IT’S HIM!”

“Him? Who ‘him’?”

“BLUE!! WHO DO YOU THINK?!”

“Oh, right. Well?”

“WHAT DO I DO?”

“Papyrus!”

“RIGHT, RIGHT.” Papyrus took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then he put on a bright smile. “HELLO, CHERRY—“

His cheer died as soon as he made sense of his doubled vision. “h-heya, pap.”

Papyrus turned off the burner. “YOU’RE AT TWISTED-ME’S HOME?”

“uh. yeah. i…” Through Red’s sockets, Papyrus could see Twist standing outside Blackberry’s bedroom door. His socket was leaking gold magic, and his hands were curled into fists. Papyrus couldn’t tell if he was guarding the door or fighting down a panic attack. Or both. “i…didn’ know who ta call. berry’s…berry’s heat hit…an’…everyone’s kinda freakin’ out over here.” He passed Cash and Slim as he left the hallway to pace the living room. “normally i’d give boss a ring but….” He eyed Twist. “i think tha’ might make things worse. i, uh…i don’ know what ta do, creampuff.” His voice cracked a little as he spoke.

“I’LL BE THERE SHORTLY.”

“Papyrus?”

He turned to Blue. “BLACKBERRY IS IN HEAT.”

Blue’s sockets went wide just as Red asked, “yeah? can…can i come getcha? so ya get here faster?”

Papyrus nodded. “YES. OF COURSE.”

With a faint pop of displaced air, Red appeared. For a moment, Papyrus saw himself through Red’s sockets. Thankfully, Red hung up the phone very quickly, allowing Papyrus to blink away his disorientation. (And ignore his dissatisfaction with the brief view of himself.)

“thanks, pap. i didn’ know—“ He went silent when he saw Blue, pulling himself out of his uncertain posture. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and tucked his face into the ruff of his hood. “twist’s buggin’ out. figured you could help.” He shrugged, as if he didn’t much care one way or the other. Papyrus reached for him, but Red pulled away. Papyrus’ soul ached a little at the rejection.

Nevertheless, he forced a smile and said with feigned confidence, “IT’S OKAY, CHERRY! THE GREAT PAPYUS IS MORE THAN HAPPY TO PROVIDE ASSISTANCE.” He struck a dramatic pose, but it only earned him a weak smile.

“yeah.”

“Do you want me to come too?” Blue asked, already pulling on his jacket.

Red’s sockets widened, and he shot Papyrus a panicked look. He’d never understood the Fell monsters’ resistance to help of any sort, but Papyrus would respect it…for now. He was simply glad Red had sought him out at all. “WHY DON’T YOU FINISH WITH DINNER? THIS MIGHT TAKE SOME TIME.”

Blue hesitated, one arm in his coat. “You’ll call me if I can help.

“ABSOLUTELY!”

“Okay….” Blue obediently turned the heat back on. “I’ll have food ready when you get back, then.”

Red cleared his throat. “ya ready?”

He nodded. “LET’S G—“

“—O.” He blinked, shaking his head to reorient himself after the shortcut. Red had brought them to the Twistfell brothers’ living room. Cash was standing in the mouth of the hall, gripping Slim’s forearm. His spine was uncharacteristically straight and stiff, and sparks of mana gathered at his fingertips. Slim had stepped into the hall, free arm curled against his chest. His sockets were wide and his fingers kept flexing. Like he wanted to do something but didn’t know what.

Both of them had their eyelights fixed on Twist. He’d shifted since Red’s disappearance. Now he had his forehead pressed to Blackberry’s door, sockets shut. Gold magic dripped from his jawbone. His shoulders were bowed, and one hand hung limp at his sides. The other was pressed to the door.

Red cleared his throat so Slim and Cash weren’t startled by their sudden appearance. Turning, Slim’s shoulders immediately relaxed in relief. He pulled free of Cash’s grip to take Papyrus’ free hand, holding tight. He couldn’t seem to speak, but his eyelights were pleading. He glanced back at Twist, squeezing Papyrus’ hand as he did.

Cash just leveled a glare at both Red and Papyrus, weighing them both with his eyelights. Papyrus could feel his sins crawling on his back.

Shaking that off, he conjured up a reassuring smile for Slim. “HELLO, SMALL-ME. DON’T FRET—I AM HERE TO HELP!”

“No. Ya ain’t.”

His voice had caught Twist’s attention. He lurched away from the door, swaying slightly. Then, he cracked his neck, and any trace of pain or anxiety slipped away. His shoulders squared, and his good eyelight flared bright. Fresh mana burbled from the other socket, dripping down his cheekbone in a thin sheet of gold. “Yer not touchin’ ‘im,” he rasped, wiping the mana away. It dripped from his fingers, fizzling into smoke when it hit the ground. His accent thickened, becoming even more difficult to understand.

Papyrus’ smile faltered, and he stepped in front of Slim, putting the low-HP monsters behind him. He swallowed and forced the radiance back into his grin. “HELLO, TWISTED-ME! I UNDERSTAND THIS IS STRESSFUL—“

Twist jabbed his fingers at Papyrus, causing mana to spray from the tips of his phalanges. “No. Ya don’. Now, fuck off. ‘M handlin’ this.”

Papyrus blinked, glancing at the door. “ERM…BLACKBERRY IS IN HEAT, CORRECT? I’M NOT CERTAIN YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE TO HANDLE THIS PARTICULAR PROBLEM.”

Twist reeled back. For a moment, his anxiety and discomfort returned—his shoulders bowed inward, and he dragged his claws down his skull. “Not. Not like that. Fuck—not ever like that.”

Papyrus took a step forward, hands raised to show he meant no harm. “I KNOW! I KNOW THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU MEANT. BUT THAT’S WHY I’M HERE; TO HELP. WHY DON’T YOU GO SIT WITH SMALL-ME AND WEALTHY-ME AND I CAN—“

Twist lunged at him, and—Papyrus was suddenly back in the living room, Red’s hand tight around the back of his shirt. “twist, what the fuck!?”

“Fuck off!” he snarled, “I ain’t lettin’ ya in. Don’ care what ya say. Don’ care if ya think yer helpin’. Ya don’ know. Yer jus’ gonna make it worse. Go home, sweetheart, ‘fore I have ta do sumthin’ I’ll regret.”

“hey!” Red stepped around Papyrus to glare at Twist. “he’s jus’ here ta help, jackass!” Papyrus hurriedly pulled Red back, before he could antagonize Twist further.

“Don’ need his kind ‘a help. Don’ wan’ it. Take ‘im home, Red.”

“he knows wha’s goin’ on! he knows how ta—“

“Yeah? Then he c’n help ya when yer heat hits, can’t he?” Red went, well, red and sputtered, unable to find the words to reply. Twist nodded to himself. “Yeah. Tha’s what I thought. This ain’t yer business. Stay outta it.”

Papyrus took a deep breath and gently pushed Red behind him. “I WILL HELP CHERRY WITH ANYTHING HE MAY NEED HELP WITH—“ Red made a strange, strangled sound. “—BUT RIGHT NOW, I’M WORRIED ABOUT BLACKBERRY. HE NEEDS HELP.”

“Not yer kind ‘a help,” Twist snapped, “Ya think yer helpin’, but ya ain’t.”

“TWISTED-ME, I’M NOT GOING TO HURT HIM—“

Twist snorted. “Ya don’ think ya are. But you don’ know what yer doin’. He don’ wan’ that. Not from you. Not from anyone. Heat ‘r not, he don’ wan’ that.”

Papyrus blinked, mind spinning. “OH DEAR. YOU THINK….”

Twist shook his head, and some of the aggression bled out of his posture. His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand over the top of his skull. “I know yer jus’ tryna help. Know ya think yer doin’ right by ‘im.” He scoffed a little. “An’ I know ya think…. Fuck, I know Sans an’ Rus. Know how they are. I know ya think I’m the same. Know ya think ‘m jus’ tryna protect ‘im from sumthin’ he don’ need protectin’ from. But it ain’t like tha’. Ya don’ know ‘im like I do. Ya don’ know….”

He speared Papyrus with a look. “He don’ wan’ this. He don’ even wanna think ‘bout sex. Thinks it’s…dirty. Thinks it ain’t ever good. Thinks there’s only ever someone bein’ hurt an’ someone doin’ the hurtin’.” He shook his head. “Prob’ly my fault. Ain’t exac’ly a good role model.” He exhaled shakily. “But tha’ don’ matter now. Only thing tha’ matters is makin’ sure no one takes advan’age of ‘im while he’s like this. Even if they mean well. Even if they think they’re givin’ ‘im what he needs.”

He straightened again. “So go home, yeah? Leave us ‘lone. We’ll manage. Always do.”

Papyrus’ soul ached. “TWISTED-ME….” He swallowed, hands fluttering anxiously. “I WOULD NEVER HURT BLACKBERRY—AND THAT INCLUDES DOING ANYTHING HE DOESN’T, UM, CONSENT TO.”

Twist squared his shoulders. “He ain’t in any condition ta be consentin’ ta nuthin’.”

“I’M NOT—THAT IS….” He dragged a hand down the front of his skull. “Oh dear.” He braced himself and said, “I HAVE NO INTENTION OF-OF HAVING RELATIONS WITH BLACKBERRY. I ONLY WANT TO HELP HIM.”

“He’s in heat. What the fuck’re ya gonna do ‘bout that if yer not tryna fuck ‘im? Ya got a way ‘a stoppin’ it in yer back pocket? Gotta cure?”

“NOW YOU’RE JUST BEING RIDICULOUS. IT’S A NORMAL, HEALTHY PART OF LIFE. IT DOESN’T HAVE A ‘CURE’.”

“Then you got no business here, do ya?” Twist took a step forward, glaring at him. “I been askin’ nice, but now ‘m startin’ ta lose my patience. Get outta here. Take them with ya.” He gestured to the other skeletons. “Ain’t nuthin’ you c’n do fer ‘im, an’ yer startin’ ta really piss me off.”

Red’s hand tightened on the back of his shirt, and Papyrus felt him tugging on it, as if to pull him back. He motioned for him to stop, never taking his eyelights off Twist. It felt like there was a lump in his throat, and strange, vague memories swam in his mind’s eye. He touched his cervical vertebrae, under his scarf, pushing away the memory of pain. He swallowed and took a step forward. “TWISTED-ME…. THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO DEAL WITH HEAT. I MYSELF—“

He tried not to look at Red. “I myself prefer to-to remain celibate during my own heat.” His hands fluttered. He clasped them, trying not to rock on his feet. “There’s no shame in it!” Despite his words, he couldn’t bear to look at Twist as he said it, and his cheekbones felt hot. “S-some monsters just prefer not to for, erm, various reasons. And-and that’s fine. But it is inadvisable to go through your heat without a partner—someone you trust to look after you and not….” His hands clenched. “Not take advantage.”

He took a breath and soldiered on, unwilling to let his discomfort linger. “DURING HEAT, IT’S EASY TO FORGET THINGS LIKE EATING AND DRINKING. AND, OF COURSE, THERE’S THE POTENTIAL THAT YOU MAY EXPERIENCE HALLUCINATIONS OR-OR SOME OTHER COMPLICATION, THOUGH THAT’S VERY RARE.” He waved the latter possibility away, not wanting to alarm Twist further. “THE POINT IS—YOU NEED SOMEONE YOU TRUST TO LOOK AFTER YOU, AND…” He looked up at Twist. “MOST MONSTERS PREFER NOT TO BE AROUND FAMILY MEMBERS DURING THEIR HEAT, REGARDLESS OF HOW THEY CHOOSE TO SPEND IT. FOR OBVIOUS REASONS, I SHOULD THINK.”

Twist’s features were set and stony, though fresh mana still gleamed from between the cracks in his cheekbone. He scratched along his jaw, causing dried mana to flake away. The way he studied Papyrus caused his lumbar spine to prickle with unease. Papyrus was used to being the subject of a Judge’s gaze—Sans and Red could strip a monster down to the marrow with just their eyelights—but this was different. Worse. He’d always thought of Twist as a friend, but Twist wasn’t looking at him like a friend right now. He looked at him as if he were evaluating a threat. An enemy.

It made Papyrus wonder if they’d ever truly been friends at all.

He swallowed down his hurt and waited. Finally, Twist seemed to come to a decision. He raised his hand and crooked two fingers. “C’mere, darlin’.”

Red’s hand tightened on his shirt. “creampuff, i don’ think—“

“IT’S ALL RIGHT, CHERRY.” He extricated himself carefully and stepped forward, smiling as he did. “TWISTED-ME KNOWS I WOULD NEVER—“

A skeletal hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the wall. Papyrus gasped, striking so hard he bounced off the wall and into Twist. Unruffled, Twist caught him easily and shoved him back into the wall, holding him there with his body. Just as Papyrus began to recover from the whiplash, Twist wrapped a clawed hand around his jaw and forced his skull back. Again, he struck the wall, hard enough to jar his teeth and rattle his skull.

Distantly, he heard several voices raised in protest, but Twist snapped something at them and they quieted. Then, just as Papyrus’ vision came back into focus, Twist loomed close. His hand was tight on his jaw, the pressure nearly bruising. He lifted his chin and forced Papyrus to hold his gaze. Papyrus’ breath was unsteady, and he clutched at Twist’s hand and hoodie, trying to anchor himself.

(“—YOUR LIFE IS GOING DOWN A DANGEROUS PATH—“)

No.

Twist shook him, less forcefully now. “You lis’enin’?” Papyrus nodded. “Good. Ain’t gonna repeat myself.” He squeezed Papyrus’ jaw until a whimper escaped him. “You fuck ‘im? You hurt ‘im? You do anythin’ he don’ wan’?” He waited a beat. “I’ll kill you. An’ I’ll make yer brother watch.” He gave him another little shake. “Got me?”

Papyrus stared at him, the monster he’d considered his friend. His soul ached. He relaxed against the wall and stopped clutching at Twist’s hoodie. He met Twist’s sockets, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice as he said, “I’m sorry you feel threats are necessary. I thought you knew me better than that. But, I promise—“ He forced a smile past the lump in his throat. “—I WILL MAKE SURE HE’S TAKEN CARE OF, AND I WILL RESPECT HIS BOUNDARIES. DOES THAT SATISFY YOU?”

Twist flinched and his gaze slid to the side. His grip loosened, and he pulled back from the wall—and Papyrus. He ran a hand down his skull and swallowed visibly. “No. But it’ll do.” He visibly steeled himself and gestured to the door. “Go on, then. Talk to ‘im. Ain’t jus’ me ya gotta convince.”

Papyrus hesitated, but only briefly—then he reached out to squeeze Twist’s shoulder, offering a comforting smile. “He’ll be okay,” he said, still smiling. “You don’t need to worry.”

Twist looked from him to the hand on his shoulder. He reached up, as if to lay his hand over Papyrus’. Then he flinched and pulled away instead. Fresh magic bubbled from his shattered socket, dripping down his face like tears. “Don’. I just—“ He stared at the spot where he’d held Papyrus against the wall and swore. More magic flowed. “Shit. Shit. I—“

He shook his head and backed away, folding in on himself as he reached the wall. “Jus’…talk to ‘im, sweetheart. If he’ll trust anyone ta help ‘im….” He exhaled hard, shaking his head as he swore under his breath again.

He sank to the floor, holding his skull in his hands. Papyrus looked down the hall at Slim, who was already hurrying forward despite Red’s protests. Cash lingered behind them, toying with his coin.

Papyrus nodded at Slim, confident he could handle Twist, before slipping into Blackberry’s room. The lights were off, but he could see a faint glow coming from under the closet door. He settled beside it and knocked softly. “KNOCK, KNOCK.”

“Go ‘way.” Blackberry’s voice was thick with tears.

“I THINK ‘WHO’S THERE?’ IS HOW THIS JOKE IS SUPPOSED TO GO, BUT SANS IS THE COMIC, NOT ME.” Blackberry didn’t reply. Papyrus fiddled with the strands at the end of his scarf. He didn’t know where to start, but he couldn’t leave Blackberry to suffer alone.

“I’m not going to…with you,” Blackberry said abruptly, just as the silence was becoming uncomfortable.  “Not with anyone. You’d have to f-force me and—“

“NO ONE WILL BE DOING ANYTHING OF THE SORT,” Papyrus said, trying not to let his horror strangle him. “I’M QUITE CERTAIN TWISTED-ME WOULD…BE VERY UPSET WITH ANYONE THAT TRIED. THE OTHER-ME’S AND THE OTHER-YOU’S WOULDN’T BE ANY MORE LIKELY TO ALLOW IT EITHER. NOR WOULD I, FOR THAT MATTER.”

He thought he understood that the Fell monsters had been through terrible things. He thought he understood what they’d seen. What they’d done. But times like this made him realize how little he really knew.

“Then why are you here?”

He picked at the stitches in his scarf. “THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO DEAL WITH HEAT.”

“You’re not touching my soul either!”

Papyrus winced. “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT.” He exhaled slowly. “BLACKBERRY? I…” He dropped his voice. “I don’t like to be intimate during my heat either.”

Blackberry waited a beat. “So, why are here then?” Suspicion was clear in his voice. “To convince me it’s for my own good? To-to tell me I’ll like it if I just give it a try?” He sniffed. “To say it’s not that bad and I should j-just—?”

“No! No—you misunderstand.” Papyrus ran a hand down his face. “Goodness, I’m not explaining this right.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “It’s…it’s perfectly alright not to do anything at all during your heat. Some monsters, myself included, prefer to abstain.” He winced. “It’s not…common. Most monsters prefer to use—erm, intimacy to lessen their discomfort. And…pain.” He winced, knowing just how bad untended heat could get. “But there are those who prefer to wait for someone special. And…” He tugged on the loosened threads. “And those who don’t enjoy the loss of control.” He cleared his throat, pitching his voice to carry. “Of course, there are those who simply aren’t interested to begin with. Those who find the whole thing rather…”

“Disgusting.”

“I was going to say ‘undesirable’, but that works too. The point is…you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You can’t control what your body is doing or how it makes you feel but…you can make your own decision. And-and anyone who tells you differently, anyone who says you’re being immature or-or foolish or—!” He took a steadying breath, hands clenched tight. “Well. They’re wrong. Nothing and no one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I promise.”

Among the skeletons, both Fell and Tale, a promise held weight. Blackberry was silent for a time, considering his words. Papyrus settled in, his back to the wall. He hoped, desperately, that his message was clear this time. Having Fell-verse monsters misunderstand his good intentions was beginning to hurt his feelings.

Finally, Blackberry said, “You don’t…either?”

Papyrus nearly sobbed in relief. “No! Not during my heat.”

“What do you do, then?” he asked, voice hoarse. “It hurts….” The last he said in a whisper. Papyrus flinched, wishing he could hug the smaller monster. But, even if the door wasn’t between them, he wasn’t sure Blackberry would welcome the contact anyway. Not now. He pulled his legs to his chest and hugged them instead.

“I usually spend it with Undyne. I know she doesn’t expect anything—wouldn’t want anything—and I feel safe with her.” He hesitated, briefly reminded of his own anxieties. “We mostly watch movies. Or anime. It’s…” He’d nearly put a hole in his scarf at this point. “I WILL NOT LIE TO YOU, BLACKBERRY. IT HURTS. IT’S UNPLEASANT AND YOU FEEL SICK AND YOU’LL BE BOTH NAUSEOUS AND HUNGRY AT THE SAME TIME. IT ISN’T FUN. IT IS…easier. Other ways. But….” His phalange poked through the yarn. “…intimacy isn’t something anyone should be forced into. You can handle this however you prefer. You can stay with Blue and me and we can watch movies. Or I can stay here and we can read. Or…you can stay in your closet and I’ll make sure you have tea and food and occasionally take a shower. Or we can call whoever you trust to see you through this! I won’t be offended if you want someone else to be with you right now. But you shouldn’t be alone for this. Heat isn’t normally dangerous, but…. It’s best to have someone you trust looking out for you.”

Through the door, Blackberry sniffed. For a while, he was quiet, then voice small, he asked, “what if i try to do something to you?” Papyrus’ sockets went wide. “it’s…” Behind the door, Blackberry inhaled sharply, clearly trying to hold back tears. “it’s making me want to do things i don’t want to do. what if i do something…bad.”

Papyrus turned to the door, “Berry? Listen to me; it’s not like that. You’re not going to hurt anyone.” He laid his hand against the wood, as if he could reach Blackberry through it. “Heat doesn’t turn you into something you’re not. There are people that use heat to take advantage of others or to excuse their own bad behavior. But that’s a choice they’ve made. Their heat didn’t force them to do something they didn’t already want to do.”

He swallowed hard. “I know this is all very unpleasant and I know you’re feeling things you don’t want to feel, but you’re still you. That hasn’t changed. And I know you’re not that kind of monster.”

He waited. Beyond the door, Blackberry sniffled again. “…we can just watch movies?”

Papyrus nodded, relieved. “ABSOLUTELY! ANY MOVIE YOU LIKE.”

“Even scary ones? Papy doesn’t like horror movies, so I don’t usually watch them when he’s around.”

“YOU CAN PICK WHATEVER MOVIE YOU LIKE. BLUE LOVES SCARY MOVIES, AND—NOW, DON’T TELL ANYONE; I HAVE A REPUTATION TO PROTECT—I QUITE LIKE THEM TOO.”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” His voice was still thick, but there was a trace of interest in it now. And the expected skepticism.

“HMMM…THAT’S HARD TO SAY. HAVE YOU SEEN PAN’S LABYRINTH? I REALLY ENJOYED THAT ONE.”

“I did too. But that’s not really a horror movie.”

“I’M QUITE WILLING TO DEBATE THAT POINT.”

Blackberry giggled. “I like Last House on the Left. The original, not the remake.”

“IF WE’RE DISCUSSING OLDER HORROR, THEN I FIND TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE STRANGELY COMPELLING.” He blushed, then rushed to say, “IT’S NOT AS VIOLENT AS THE NAME SUGGESTS! THERE’S HARDLY ANY GORE AT ALL. IT’S REALLY MORE OF AN ART FILM.”

“I’ve never seen that one.” There was something wistful in his voice.

“I HAVE IT. IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN WATCHING IT.”

Blackberry was quiet. Papyrus held his breath, hardly daring to hope. Then, softly, from behind the door—

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

(“i need you to talk to me. please.”)

The last conversation he’d had with Rus replayed over and over in his skull, every word a lash across his soul. They all but drowned out the beat of his feet hitting the ground, the way his breath rasped in his ribcage.

It sounded so easy. (“just talk to me!”) But how?

How did he explain the knot of anxiety that twisted his soul when the word ‘heat’ was so much as mentioned? How did he explain that this didn’t feel like a normal biological function to him? That it felt like it was being forced upon him? And how did he explain all of that to someone that viewed it as something beautiful?

How did he verbalize that he would rather starve himself than submit to such a thing?

Rus would think he needed to be committed for his own safety. Or, worse, dismiss his feelings as foolish or misguided. Edge could almost hear the little disbelieving laugh any attempt to explain would net him. He could see the patronizing smile. He could hear the platitudes that were meant to be reassuring, but only made him feel isolated.

He wasn’t being fair. Rus wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. But Edge’s soul would break if Rus ever looked at him like that, spoke to him like that. He couldn’t bring himself to take the chance, no matter how slight.

So he pushed himself onward, despite the subtle tremble in his limbs, the lightheadedness, the ache in his soul.

He only slowed to a stop when he reached Twist’s house. Unease crawled through him. He surveyed the area, looking for the source. Twist wasn’t outside waiting for him. Lights were on all over the house, though Blackberry and Cash should have been sleeping.

Something was wrong.

Braced for the worst, he climbed the steps and knocked on the door. He waited, then knocked more firmly. “Twist?” He raised a brow-bone when Slim opened the door instead. “What happened?”

Slim glanced behind him before ducking outside. He tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie. “‘berry’s in heat.”

His soul skipped a beat. “What?!”

Slim stared at the ground, idly scuffing the toe of his shoe over the wooden slats. “last night. papyrus came over to get him, but….” He looked over his shoulder at the door. “twist isn’t doing well. he’s…upset.”

Edge swore. A monster with Twist’s LV was never just ‘upset’. “Why didn’t anyone call me?”

Slim raised one shoulder in a shrug. “red didn’t think you would help.”

Edge’s eyelights flared bright as he inhaled sharply. “Let me get this straight. He thought it would be better for three low-HP monsters—three monsters that would dust after one hit—to watch him instead?”

Slim flinched. “he brought papyrus—“

“Oh, well, that’s so much better! Why not bring all the Tale-verse monsters? I’m sure that couldn’t end badly at all.”

Slim didn’t just wince—he cringed, as if actively pained by Edge’s words. Edge huffed, pinching his nasal ridge. Slim wasn’t at fault here. And Edge wasn’t helping by being snarky. “I will ‘correct’ him later,” he said carefully, “Where’s Twist?”

No longer speaking—which was certainly Edge’s fault—Slim stepped aside and pointed to the closed door. Edge eyed it, then reach out to lay a hand on Slim’s shoulder. “You should go. Just in case.”

With shocking ferocity, Slim swept the hand away and glared. He swallowed, and for a moment, it looked like he might try to give Edge a piece of his mind. Then the moment passed. He turned his glare elsewhere, digging a sucker from his pocket. ‘don’t make it worse,’ he signed, eyelights on the ground.

Edge cocked a brow-bone at him, but he shook off his surprise at the outburst quickly. If he’d been here all night, Slim had every right to be upset—especially after the undeserved dressing-down. “I’m sorry,” Edge said, gentling his tone. “I’m here to help.”

Slim shot him a look, and the distrust in his eyelights made it clear he wouldn’t forgive so easily. He leaned against the bannister, making it very clear he had no intention of leaving, though he seemed willing to keep his distance.

Shaking his head to clear it, Edge pushed the door open and stepped inside. It was not difficult to find Twist; he sat on the floor of the living room amidst the wreckage of various household appliances. Currently, he held a microwave between his knees, and it looked like he was trying to pry the case off with a screwdriver. Cash and Red sat on the couch nearby, watching cautiously. They, at least, seemed more aware of the danger than Slim.

Edge caught his brother’s eyelight and jerked his thumb at the door, silently ordering him out. Just to annoy him, Red made a show of stretching and scratching at his jawbone, moving toward the door as slowly as possible. Edge mentally counted to five, then dismissed him from his thoughts. He needed to keep his focus on Twist.

Dodging pieces of hardened plastic and bits of metal, he came to stand in front of him. “What are you doing?”

“Takin’ the micr’wave apart.”

“…I can see that. Why?”

“Sumthin’ ta do with my hands tha’ don’ involve hurtin’ people.”

“Then by all means—please continue.”

Twist gave him a mocking little salute and continued unimpeded. Edge studied him, taking in the spent mana crusted around his socket, the hunch of his shoulders, the mechanical way he pried the casing free.

Edge glanced at Cash and signed, ‘How long has this been going on?’

He knew Cash could speak in Hands—they all could—but he just held Edge’s gaze for a beat, then leaned his skull against the back of the couch and shut his sockets. Briefly, Edge considered calling Red back in—he was likely on the porch with Slim, reassuring his unofficially-adopted brother—but he decided his question didn’t merit that. Twist was clearly past the most dangerous part. Edge only had to guide him through the aftershocks and the come-down.

He settled beside him. Twist’s phalanges trembled subtly as he worked, but he didn’t otherwise react to Edge’s presence.

“So? What set it off?”

Twist jammed the head of the screwdriver between two metal plates, forcing them apart. “‘Berry. Went inta heat. Little guy started ta panic an’ I….” He gestured loosely with the screwdriver. “Reacted.”

Edge nodded, trying to swallow down his own rising panic and skirt the topic entirely. “You wanted to protect him.”

Twist scoffed, bending his head to jab at the circuits. “Yeah. Did a real good job ‘a that. Pap comes ta help ‘im out, an’ I threw ‘im inta a fuckin’ wall an’ threatened ta kill ‘im.” Edge didn’t reply. Twist continued to stab the machine until he couldn’t bear the silence. “Got nuthin’ ta say ta that?”

“What would you have me say? You obviously know that was wrong, and you seem to be doing a good job of beating yourself up over it. I believe you’re well-mannered enough to know you owe him an apology at the very least.”

Twist gave the screwdriver a particularly violent tug. It bent under his hand, and he froze, staring at it. Then, with a growl, he shoved the microwave off his lap and stood, looking down at the mess of gears and wires at his feet. “An apology? Tha’s—tha’s it?” He looked down at Edge with fury in his eyelight. “Didja hear me? I shoved Papyrus—Papyrus!— into a fuckin’ wall! Put my arm ta his neck an’ told ‘im I’d kill ‘im if he did anythin’ ta my bro. He was jus’ here ta help! Wasn’ tryna get anythin’ over on us. Wasn’ tryna leverage the situation. No blackmail. No threat. Nuthin’. Jus’ an honest offer ‘a help an’ I—“

He toed the pile of parts before him, shoulders slumping as his fury crumbled into shame. “I don’ b’long up here. All ‘a ya know it, but none ‘a ya wants ta say it.” He swallowed. “They kep’ some ‘a the more dang’rous monsters un’erground. Tha’s where I belong. ‘M only up here ‘cause Pap pulled strings an’ yer Undyne vouched fer me. Shouldn’ ‘a been brought up here ta begin with. Woulda been better fer everyone if—“

Edge was standing, prepared to offer whatever comfort he could, when Cash spoke.

“shut. up.”

Edge froze; he hadn’t realized Cash was even listening to them. But his eyelight blazed, and his hands were drawn into tight fists. Following Edge’s gaze, he seemed to come back to himself and forced them open. Rage banked, he stood, eyeing Twist. “you think blackberry’d be happier if you were stuck underground?” He threw the words down like a gauntlet.

Twist replied in kind. “He’d sure as fuck be better off if he didn’ have me ‘round ta fuck up ‘is fresh start. He’s a fell monster with no LV—he’s got nuthin’ but me keepin’ ‘im back.”

“yeah. it’s not like he has any fell-verse baggage of his own to deal with. that’s definitely not the reason he barricaded himself in his bedroom as soon as his heat hit.”

Edge’s hands tightened and his soul twisted at the word, but neither Twist nor Cash noticed his anxiety.

“I didn’ say that! Just that he’d be better off without me ‘round makin’ it worse! Remindin’ ‘im of what we were.” He exhaled hard, rubbing at his face. Flecks of mana flaked away like specks of gold. “What we are.”

Cash swore under his breath, then came to stand right in front of Twist. Edge straightened. “Cash.” He reached for him, intent on keeping some space between Twist and the low HP monster, but Cash shook him off.

He stepped even closer, until there was only a hand’s breadth between them. “look me in the socket and tell me blackberry’d be better off.” Twist’s jaw popped, but he didn’t turn his head to face Cash. “look me in the fucking socket and tell me any of us would be.”

Twist took a shaky breath, still not looking at him. “You’d be safer,” he finally said. “You an’ Slim both—“

Magic flared in Cash’s hands. “fuck you. you know exactly where i’d be without you, asshole.”

That got his attention. “Someone else woulda—“

But Cash was already turning away, storming from the room. The door slammed, and Twist exhaled, hand covering his sockets like he couldn’t bear to see the world right now. He took a deep breath, then sighed before lowering his hand. He turned to Edge. “Alright. They’re all gone. Le’ me have it, darlin’. Know I c’n trust ya ta be honest, even if it hurts.”

The words hit him like a slap. Twist couldn’t know about his fight talk with Rus. (“you know i love you, right?”) He couldn’t know what Edge was hiding from his lover.

Yet Edge could feel his sins crawling on his back, though no one was Judging him.

He looked away. “If you deserve to be sent back Underground, then I can think of many more that deserve the same. Myself included.”

Twist shut his sockets, head hanging low. “I hurt ‘im, darlin’. Pretty sure I knocked some HP off. He was jus’ tryna help.”

Edge reached out, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll apologize, and he’ll forgive you—“

“Don’ d’serve ta be fergiven.”

Edge shook his shoulder, firm but gentle. “Enough. Now you’re just wallowing. Go take a shower. Wash your face. I’ll make breakfast, and you’ll feel better. Understand?”

“Sweetheart, how’d ya manage ta make that sound like a threat?”

Edge sniffed. “It is.”

That caused him to crack a smile. Edge nodded to himself, then pushed him toward the bathroom. “‘M goin’! Sheesh!”

When he heard the water start, Edge allowed himself to sigh and rub the spot between his brow-bones. He ignored the tight coil of anxiety knotting his soul, set aside the guilt and shame weighing him down, and simply turned toward the kitchen to survey the ingredients available to him. Twist preferred healthier options, so he pulled a bell pepper, mushrooms, and eggs from the fridge and set them on the counter.

“heya, boss.”

Edge spun on his toes, magic crackling in his hand before he registered his brother’s presence, “Stars on fire, runt. Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Red eyed the mana at his fingertips and cocked a brow-bone. “feelin’ a little jumpy, boss?”

He huffed before turning back to the cutting board. Mentally, he checked in with himself, making sure he wasn’t telegraphing any of his distress. “I didn’t get my morning run in. Excuse me for being a little on edge.”

Red grunted and hopped up onto the counter beside him. Edge could feel the Judge’s gaze on him, so he took a more defensible position. “What the fuck were you thinking, inviting Papyrus here when Twist was in the middle of a fit?”

He’d chosen his target and his weapon well. Red flinched and looked down at his hands. “ya don’ gotta tell me it was stupid. i know. i jus’…i didn’ know what ta do.”

“You should have called me!”

“wasn’ jus’ twisted i was worried about.” Edge’s throat tightened, sure he’d been found out, but Red continued, “blackberry was freakin’ out too. twist’s his big bro. knew he wasn’ gonna calm down ‘til his little bro was looked after. and you weren’t gonna be much help with that, were ya?”

Edge grunted, unwilling to concede the point, but aware that Red wasn’t necessarily wrong about that either.

He should have expected what Red said next, but somehow it surprised him. “…yer okay, right?” He ran a hand over his skull and ducked his head, apparently regretting the naked concern in his words. He cleared his throat and tried again. “i jus’ mean…seems like we don’ see each other as much up here. tha’s all. was wonderin’ how things ‘er goin’.”

Edge nearly choked on all the words he couldn’t say. He swallowed them down and managed to say, “I’m fine.” He looked down at his hands, mechanically chopping the vegetables. “Hook’s been keeping me busy at the embassy.” Not a lie. Not really.

“oh. okay. tha’s…good.”

He paused, looking at Red. “What about you? How are you adjusting?”

“oh—great. ‘m…doin’ great.” He played with the cuffs of his jacket.

Edge’s gaze sharpened, and he forced Red’s head up so he could search his face. “Are you?” Red sputtered, trying to free himself.

“hey, what the fuck’s with the interrogation?”

Edge just tightened his grip. “Sans, look at me.” After a beat, Red stopped fighting him and met his eyelights.

“i pass mustard, boss? er do i gotta ketchup ta ya?”

Edge ignored the punny language—it was a cheap attempt to distract him, and he wasn’t going to take the bait—and he held Red’s skull between his hands, seeing the strain around his brother’s sockets for the first time.

A new dose of guilt hit him. He’d been so wrapped up in his own worries, his own panic, he hadn’t even considered that Red was suffering too. Uncharacteristically gentle, he released his brother and gestured at the table. “Sit. You may as well join us. I’m making food for Twist.” He rolled his eyelights. “With Blackberry…indisposed…I can’t trust he won’t just eat some carrot sticks and call it breakfast.”

Red made a face. “ugh. he would, wouldn’ he?”

“Dunno what yer problem is—carrots ‘re a perfec’ly good breakfast food.”

Edge looked back at him and sighed. “They are not—and get some clothes on!”

“I got a towel!”

“A towel is not clothing—go get dressed!”

Twist waved him off, returning to the hall to pull down the ladder to the attic. And, likely, flashing anyone watching through the front window. Edge shook his head, while Red snickered.

He finished chopping the vegetables and began to crack eggs into a bowl. He hesitated after he’d cracked six, knowing Red would be watching. He couldn’t skip this meal. He could make it up later, though. Perhaps he could talk Undyne into going on a run with him at lunch, since he’d been forced to cut it short this morning. Or he could go in the evening. Perhaps he could talk Rus into having a nice salad for dinner—something light. He could say his soul was a little uneasy from his illness, and he didn’t want anything heavy, but he’d have to navigate that conversation carefully—Rus could take it the wrong way and force him to rest.

“Whatcha makin’, darlin’?”

He shook his head, coming back to the present. “Mushroom and bell pepper omelettes.”

“Really?” His grin was far too broad for something so simple, but then again, Blackberry and Cash likely favored sweeter fare. He probably resorted to carrot sticks more often than Edge would prefer.

He waved him off with the spatula. “Go sit. You’ll make me burn something.”

Twist turned away from him, more agreeable now that his LV was starting to settle. He paused beside Red, reaching for him before he seemed to think better of it and let his hand hang at his side. “Heya, sweetheart. S’rry ‘bout las’ night. Ya did good, bringin’ Pap. I…I didn’t handle myself well. ‘M real sorry ‘bout that, darlin’.”

Red shot him a glare. “not me ya need ta apologize to.”

Twist shook his head and sighed, sitting beside him. “It is. Owe you an’ Slim an’ Cash a ‘sorry’. Owe Pap…more’n that. He’s…he’s doin’ us a favor, an’ I…I….” He ran a hand down his face. “I fucked up. Fucked up real good.”

“yeah. ya did.”

Edge glanced back at them, rolling his eyelights when he saw Red Judging Twist. “Enough, runt. He apologized, and he’s going to fix it. You’re just rubbing salt in the wound now.”

“Deserve it,” Twist muttered, tracing patterns on the tabletop. “Deserve more’n jus’ a dirty look….”

Red’s mouth twitched, then his pose relaxed as he relented. “yeah. but boss’s inta all tha’ mercy shit. so’s pap.” Red patted him on the shoulder. “an’ i ain’t exac’ly in a position ta judge ya. guess yer off the hook.”

Twist’s subdued smile showed he appreciated the words, but his posture didn’t change. “Nah. I owe ‘im, an’ I pay my debts.”

It was a very Fell-verse way of looking at it, and Edge knew Papyrus wouldn’t view it that way. He didn’t correct him, though, knowing Twist would be more at ease doing something to make amends, rather than merely begging for forgiveness.

Twist flicked a hand to clear the air. “So? What about you, darlin’? Gonna take ‘im up on ‘is offer?” His smile was teasing now, even if his jaw was still tight.

Red eyed him, suspicious. “what offer?”

Twist winked, his grin growing broader. “Didn’ he say sumthin’ like—“

Red’s cheekbones brightened as mana flushed his features, and his hands flailed as he scrambled to silence Twist. Twist just batted them away, snickering. “—sumthin’ like—heh—he’d help ya out with—‘anythin’ Cherry may need’? Heard tha’ right, didn’ I?”

“shut up! he didn’ mean it like that! he didn’ know what he was sayin’!”

“Ya sure ‘bout tha’, sweetheart? Think he knew ‘xactly what he was offerin’.”

“he didn’t!”

Edge sighed loudly, gaze lifted to the Stars as if seeking mercy. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but—what the fuck are you two talking about?”

Twist grinned, while Red’s sockets went wide. He lunged at Twist, trying to cover his mouth or shut his jaw, but Twist just twisted out of his grip and said, “Pap said he’d help Red through ‘is heat. If Red was askin’.”

“tha’s not what he said!”

“Darlin’, ya need ta get yer earholes checked. He said it loud an’ clear.”

“he didn’ mean it like that!”

The talk of heats caused Edge’s soul to skip, but he shook it off, latching onto Red’s embarrassment as a distraction. He smirked and eyed him, saying, “No, that’s definitely what he meant.”

Red’s blush grew brighter. “fuck off—you weren’ even here!”

Edge sniffed, examining his claws. “I know Papyrus. And I know you two have been dancing around each other for ages. He definitely knew what he was offering.”

Red covered his sockets, laying his head down on the table while Twist and Edge shared an amused look. Twist gently patted his back. “Aw, sweetheart. Don’ know what yer torn up about; sounds like yer in fer a good time.”

Red cringed, then sighed, lifting his head only enough to eye them both. He folded his arms in front of him, resting his chin on one hand. “ain’t exac’ly how i wanted this ta go,” he grumbled. “feels like he’s jus’ offering ‘cause he….” He fell silent, looking into the distance.

“Sans, look at me.” He looked up, and Edge held his gaze. “He’s not just offering out of pity or because he feels he has to. He likes you.” Now it was Edge’s turn to look away. He cleared his throat and said with forced calm, “Tale-verse monsters don’t seem to view this the same way we do. It is not a…a weakness for them. Or a problem. It’s an…opportunity for building trust.” One Edge was failing badly.

Red blinked. “fuckin’ fantastic. how the fuck didja manage ta make this even worse?”

“It’s a gift.” He turned back to the stove, flipping the first omelette onto a plate. “Twist.” He held it out, but Red teleported to his side to snatch it first.

“there. debt ta me paid in full,” he said as he returned to the table, holding out his hand. Amused, Twist took his hand and scrubbed the other over his skull, which Red tried to duck away from.

“Thanks, sweetheart. S’nice yer so easy ta please.” He waited for Red to take a bite before adding, “‘ll be sure ta pass that on ta Pap. Start paying down my debt, ya know?”

Red choked.

Edge just shook his head, smiling faintly while he started the next omelette.

“alright, smartass,” Red said when he’d recovered his breath, “when the fuck’re ya gonna grow a set an’ ask slim an’ cash fer help?”

If he was hoping to embarrass Twist—a doubly difficult task—his words didn’t hit their mark. “Can’t tell if ya think high ‘a my stamina, er low ‘a their’s if ya think I’d need’em both ta lend a hand. Don’ matter, though, ‘cause I ain’t askin’ either.”

“don’ be an idiot—“

“Hey, ain’t no call fer tha’. I jus’…can’t risk losin’ control ‘a myself ‘round ‘em.” Red fell silent at that, looking troubled. “Hey. S’alright, sweetheart. ‘Tween the two ‘a us, least Cash ‘n Slim’re gonna be taken care of, even if I’d rather one ‘a them had the guts ta ask the other.”

“What are you going to do, then?” Edge found himself asking. His soul was beating too hard and too fast, but strangely, the anxious knot had loosened a little. Just knowing they were troubled too seemed to help. For the first time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

Twist gave a half-hearted shrug. “Dunno. Can’t handle being tied down ‘er locked up.” Edge nodded, remembering how poorly Twist had handled the detention center. “Drug myself outta my mind, maybe?”

“fer a week?”

Twist laughed, but there was a sharp edge to it. “Well. There’s always option number two.” He twitched his fingers, summoning a coin to toy with. “Boris made me an offer.”

Edge straightened. “An…offer.” He cocked his head, wary.

Twist’s grin was cruel. The coin glinted as he rolled it over his knuckles. “Yeah. Tol’ me he’d take care ‘a my spider problem…if I spent my heat with ‘im.”

A chill went down Edge’s spine. Red, too, straightened, sockets wide. “ya told ‘im ta fuck off, right?”

Twist shrugged, watching the coin as he practiced palming it. “Told ‘im I’d think on it.”

“Stars above, Twist, you cannot be serious.”

Another shrug. “‘S temptin’. Solve two ‘a my problems in one go. ‘Sides, if I lose it in the middle ‘a things….” Grim, he spread his hands and cocked a brow-bone, the coin gone. “Well. Boris always did like ta play with fire. He knows the risks.”

“Do you?” Edge snapped. “You’ll be completely defenseless. What if he takes things too far? He’ll have access to your very soul! He’ll be able to—“ He bit down on words that had nothing to do with Twist and Boris. Instead, he swallowed and said, “You’d trust your soul itself to a man who would use it as a bargaining chip?”

Twist was silent for a beat, and his hands closed tight. “Ain’t stupid, sweetheart. We’re allies, but we ain’t friends. He ain’t offerin’ fer my benefit. I know what he wants. An’ I know why he wants it.” He opened his hand, and the coin dropped to the table. He pushed it over the wooden surface. “‘S jus’ a question ‘a how badly I wan’ Muffet gone. Might be worth it, in the end.”

Red swore, grabbing Twist’s hand—coin and all—and holding it tight. “hey! we’re right here, jackass. you don’ gotta go makin’ deals with tha’ creep ta get rid ‘a her.”

“Tha’s sweet, darlin’, but I don’ wan’ none ‘a ya gettin’ yer hands dirty fer me.” He grinned suddenly. All the darkness cleared from his brow, and he opened his other hand to display the coin. “Don’ worry, sweetheart. I got everythin’ in hand.”

Reaching across the table, Edge snatched the coin from him. “Enough magic tricks; this is serious.” He pointed at Twist. “You cannot take Boris’ offer. And we—“ He glared at Red. “—are not assassins. This isn’t the Underground. We cannot simply kill our problems; we have to face them. So? What are you going to do?”

“Don’ worry, sweetheart. ‘S my mess. Ain’t gonna drag anyone else inta it.” Edge glared at him, but Twist merely pointed at the stove. “Food’s burnin’.”

Swearing under his breath, Edge turned back to the pan, only to realize one side of the omelette was badly burned. He flipped it onto a plate and snapped, “Here,” as he slid it across the table to Twist.

If he’d hoped to annoy him, he missed his mark. Twist just grinned. “Thanks, darlin’.” He dug in without complaint. Red and Edge exchanged a look. Edge gave a subtle nod, and Red stood, stretching. “welp. this’s been great.” He rolled his eyelights. “but i got things ta see. people ta do.”

“S’long as Pap’s one ‘a them,” Twist said with a wink.

If he wasn’t so irritated with him, Edge might have been able to appreciate Twist’s ability to make his brother blush like that. With a stuttered insult, Red teleported away, grabbing the rest of his unfinished omelette at the last second. “…ya think he’s doin’ okay on ‘is own? Keeps showin’ up here, lookin’ ta be fed. ‘M worried ‘bout ‘im.”

Edge thrust a finger at him. “Do not try to distract me. Give me a straight fucking answer, Twist—what are your plans? What are you going to do?”

Twist’s brow-bones lifted. “I look like a guy with a plan? Sweetheart, ‘m glad ya think—“

Edge slammed his palm on the table. “Enough.” His voice was deadly quiet. “Are you going to take Boris’ offer?”

Twist held his gaze. “An’ what bus’ness is it ‘a yers?”

“Because I—and everyone else—give a shit about you. And I don’t want to watch you get yourself killed. Or worse.”

Twist eyed him for a bit, then nodded to himself. He leaned his chair back, away from the table. “Must be nice, yeah? Havin’ a partner. Tale-verse one at that. You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout this shit, do ya? Savor that, sweetheart, an’ quit lookin’ ta borrow worries fr’m me.”

His words cut cleanly through Edge’s soul, so precisely designed to strike at his insecurities that if Edge didn’t know better, he’d have assumed it was deliberate. Either way, it had its intended effect; he was too stunned to formulate a reply. He could only stand by mutely as Twist stood, rolling his neck to pop his vertebrae.

To soften his words, Twist laid a hand on his shoulder. “Aw, darlin’—I’ll be fine. Been through worse. Both ‘a us have, I’d bet. Gonna take care ‘a this, I promise. Jus’ don’ want none ‘a ya gettin’ down in the mud with me. Life up here’s good fer you. Ya got everythin’ ta lose an’ nuthin’ ta gain by gettin’ involved.” His grin grew broad. Mischievous. “Do me a favor, yeah? Have a good time, heh, ‘buildin’ trust’ with Rus, okay?” He winked, and it felt like the bottom dropped out of Edge’s soul.

Twist didn’t notice. He squeezed Edge’s shoulder and grabbed his plate. Only a few burnt crumbs remained. “Thanks fer breakfast, darlin’. Fer everythin’, really.” He set the plate in the sink, glancing at Edge over his shoulder. “Sorry ta be rude, but I gotta get ta work or I’ll be late.” He gestured to the bowl of uncooked eggs. “Yer more’n welcome ta stay an’ finish eatin’, jus’ lock up b’hind ya.”

Edge nodded numbly as Twist walked out the door, whistling as he went. When the door shut behind him and Edge could be sure he was alone, he sank to the floor and buried his head in his hands.

At least he wouldn’t have to choke down breakfast.

Chapter Text

Sans finally texted back around nine. Edge had since come and gone, telling Rus he’d gotten hung up at the Twistfell brothers’ house. Blackberry had apparently gone into heat, and Twist needed help managing his LV. If possible, Edge had been even more tightly wound up when he arrived than when he left, and Rus couldn’t bring himself to try to continue their discussion. It wasn’t the right time—he could only make things worse.

So he’d given him a hug and a kiss, a smile and a joke, and told him to have a good day at work.

The relief in Edge’s eyelights caused his soul to ache. So when he got Sans’ text, Rus skipped the back-and-forth and called him instead.

“‘lo?” Sans asked, “‘sup, rus?”

“you, uh, you got some time to spare, bud? i…i need to talk to you about something.”

Silence on the other end signaled Sans’ surprise. “uh, yeah. sure. i…i’ll meet you at spinner’s. we can have coffee. gimme half an hour, okay?”

“thanks. see you soon.”

They hung up, and Rus clutched the phone to his chest, his soul in knots. He sent a prayer to the stars that Sans could help him, then sat on the couch to wait. He turned on the tv for background noise, then turned it off when everything felt too loud. He ran his hands over his skull. He tried to read, but the words jumbled in his head, forming nonsense sentences he forgot as soon as he reached the next.

Finally, after the longest half hour of his life, he teleported to Spinnerette’s and slunk inside. Spinnerette waved at him as he did, and he pointed to a booth in question. She nodded and he sat, again left to wait for Sans. She sent a spider to supply him with coffee, cream, and sugar, which he accepted gratefully. A generous portion of sugar went into the mug, but an equally generous portion ended up on the table. This wasn’t quite so much an accident as it was an excuse to do something with his hands. He drew patterns in the sugar, tracing the tip of his phalange through it. He’d crafted a complex geometric design by the time Sans finally appeared.

He sat across from him and a spider delivered more coffee, chittering when she saw the spilled sugar. “i’ll clean it up,” Rus told her, knowing he’d get an earful—metaphorically—from Spinnerette if he didn’t.

Sans grinned at him, waiting for the spider to leave before teasing, “sweet picture. a rus original?”

Rus’ grin was weak. “oh, yeah. you know me. always trying to….” He fumbled, looking for a joke or a pun, but coming up dry. “…sweeten things?”

Sans’ brow-bone rose. “right.” He cleared his throat and poured creamer into his coffee. “so, what’s up?”

Rus wiped the picture clear. “heard it through the grapevine that razz already had his heat. is that true?”

Sans sat back. “hey, uh, that’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

Rus winced. “i don’t need details, it’s just….” He ran a hand over his skull. This was the tricky part. Edge would never forgive him if Rus aired his dirty laundry publicly, but in order to help him, Rus needed to divulge something.

So he reframed the problem. “i’m, uh. nervous.”

Sans’ brow-bone shot up even higher, then he raised his hands as if to ward him off. “whoa. look, if you haven’t started cycling yet, you need to talk to a doctor or something—“

“what? are you—? don’t be ridiculous, of course i have!” He took a breath, glancing around before lowering his voice. “i’m worried about seeing edge through his.”

Sans stared at him. “you’re joking, right? i figured you’d be excited. edge seems like he’d be a little cold behind closed doors.” He grinned. “this will definitely warm him up.”

Rus realized belatedly that he may have miscalculated. “okay, first? edge is not cold—go fuck yourself.” Sans snickered. “second? i’ve never—“ He looked around, then leaned in close. “i’m not exactly the kind of guy people ask for help with this stuff.” Not really a lie. Spinnerette, his previously preferred heat partner, hadn’t had any trouble looking after him, but she’d declined his offer to return the favor. Unspoken between them was the understanding that she wanted someone more responsible to take care of her. Looking back, Rus couldn’t exactly blame her for that. “and it’s edge’s first heat. i want to make sure he has a good time, you know?”

Sans nodded, as if he understood, but he just flicked his fingers dismissively. “eh, i think you’re getting worked up over nothing. just gotta let nature take its course, and it’ll all come out fine.”

Rus’ mouth went dry. “right. yeah.” He stirred his coffee. “so razz took it well?”

Sans’ smile was lascivious. “gave and took it well.”

That was not what he meant, but Rus forced a chuckle anyway. “heh. great. hope…uh, hope edge handles things just as well.” He glanced at Sans, wondering if there was a way to crack that jovial veneer.

His soul swelled when Sans grew abruptly serious. He checked the booth to either side, and crooked a finger to motion Rus closer. “what?” He tried to keep his desperation hidden. “something happened?”

“well. you see….” Sans looked away from him. “if he’s not handling it well, you just gotta show him.”

“show him?” Rus’ mind was spinning.

“yeah. y’know. show him what you like.” Rus stared at him,  confused. Until Sans cracked a grin. “just show him how to polish your tools, man. how to wax your car. how you take your coffee—“

“okay, i think i get it.”

“wait, wait. i got more. show him how to bake your bread. how to mix your drink.”

For probably the first time in his life, Rus wondered if this was how his brother felt when Blue tried to have a serious conversation with him. “stars, those are bad. they don’t even make sense.”

“sure they do! everything’s an innuendo if you say it right.”

Rus rolled his eyelights and settled against the back of the booth. His fingers itched for a cigarette; he spooned more sugar into his coffee instead. “and edge knows how to…drive my car just fine, thanks.”

Sans grinned. “see? now you get it.”

Rus just huffed. “so razz didn’t have any problems?”

Sans waved a dismissive hand. “i mean…razz is a little high strung. he wasn’t happy about the whole thing. but some food and a little teasing mellowed him out.” The way he waggled his brow-bones demonstrated what kind of teasing he meant. “like i said—you just let things happen naturally, you’ll be fine.”

Somehow, Rus didn’t think Edge would be calmed so easily. “right. well. thanks for talking with me.” He swept the sugar from the table into his mug and drained it in one go. “i should probably get going, though. see you around.”

He paid for their coffee at the counter, and made sure to tell Spinnerette that Sans was not on his tab—voice raised so Sans could hear. It earned him a good-natured wink and a wave.

Then he teleported to the park.

It was in a nice part of the city, on the human side of town. He’d discovered it a while back, and liked to come here to think. He’d found a semi-isolated hilltop, away from the path and the playground and the dog park, where an unwary human was unlikely to stumble upon him. And he was just as unlikely to run into anyone he knew. It was quiet and peaceful, and he could look up at the sky and feel the grass under his hands and know this wasn’t some elaborate dream. It was real. He was here. And it wasn’t going away.

He laid down and pillowed his hands behind his skull. Wispy clouds were strung across the sky like cotton candy, and the sun warmed everything it touched. An observer would have thought he looked relaxed, but his soul was in turmoil. Somehow, his talk with Sans made him feel worse, not better. And now…now he had no idea how to proceed.

Razz would be of no help. Blue and Papyrus had their hands full with Blackberry. And all the other skeletons were Fell-verse. Spinnerette would probably help, but she was basically his ex—it didn’t seem right to ask. Besides, she didn’t know Edge. She wouldn’t understand. He could try to ask Hook, but she wouldn’t fall for any attempt at obfuscation—she’d bull right past him to ask Edge what his problem was. And she wouldn’t be gentle about it either. While there were times that approach was needed, Rus thought that might just push Edge further away right now.

So he stared at the clouds and tried to figure out how he could show Edge it wasn’t going to be as bad as he feared. Or how to draw him out so they could actually discuss it without upsetting him.

That would be easier if he could understand why Edge was so upset to begin with, of course. But that knowledge evaded him. He’d always kind of enjoyed going into heat. A week off from any responsibilities to fuck and cuddle with someone he cared about? What wasn’t to like about that? Sure, it was messy, but otherwise…? Then again, Edge had been upset just taking a day off while he was sick. A whole week probably seemed outrageous to him. And there was more to it than that. Rus knew that much.

He sighed and rolled over onto his stomach, picking strands of grass and clover. He just needed Edge to talk to him. He was sure they could tackle this together, if they just talked. He almost wished he there was a way to trigger heat deliberately, so Edge could pencil it in on the calendar and—

He paused. Well. They couldn’t do that, but there was something they could do. Edge liked to plan things out in advance. He kept a calendar for both of them posted on the wall. He wrote lists of chores that needed doing, supplies to buy, and even books to read and movies to see. He planned their meals week by week, based on what he found at the Farmer’s market each Saturday. They couldn’t schedule their heats, but they could at least plan how to handle them in advance.

He stood up, allowing himself to be hopeful. This would help. He knew it. Getting Edge to settle down enough to make the plan might be a challenge, but surely handing him that little bit of control would make things easier.

Rus had some planning of his own to do. Not his strong suit, unfortunately, but for Edge, he’d try his best.

The sun was warm on his bones, and he stripped his hoodie off, knotting it around his waist as he stood. He still wasn’t quite used to the way the weather changed up here; Underground, “weather” had only changed by location. Spring mornings on the Surface always started out cold, but they grew warmer as the day went on. He raised his bare arms high, shutting his sockets so he could appreciate that warmth more fully.

He smiled a little. He could do this. They could do this.

With that mantra playing through his mind, he teleported to a local drug store—closer to Monstertown, where his appearance wouldn’t be noted. He grabbed a basket and went down the aisle. Two notebooks—red and orange—went into the basket. He paused, not sure what else Edge would want. He rubbed the back of his neck, then shrugged and grabbed a set of highlighters, some colored pens, and sticky tabs in various colors. Smirking, he grabbed a set of smiley-face stickers too, just because it would annoy Edge in the best way.

Pleased with himself, he started for the cashier—then abruptly decided he wanted snacks too. Edge was always in charge of the grocery list, so they had plenty of the healthy snacks he preferred, but only a little junk food for Rus. He grabbed a couple flavors of ice cream, as well as pretzels and popcorn. He debated with himself over candybars—making sure to grab black licorice for Edge, because he liked the stuff for whatever reason—before ultimately deciding on a variety bag and tossing it in the cart too. They had sriracha and honey at home already, but extra couldn’t hurt.

Edge was going to roll his eyelights at the excess, but maybe they could make a little private party out of the whole thing. Maybe they could even role-play a little—like a practice run of sorts. The idea of Edge nested in their blankets had Rus’ soul warming—

And that stopped him cold. “shit.”

He nearly abandoned the cart then and there, but if his suspicions proved true, then he’d want the snacks sooner rather than later. Thankfully, the line wasn’t long, and home was just a shortcut away. The ice cream went in the freezer, but everything else was unceremoniously dumped on the counter.

In the bathroom, he clutched the edges of the counter and looked at himself in the mirror. “please, please not now. this would be really bad timing,” he said to the world at large, as if he could put it off with a protest. Bracing himself, he pulled his shirt off and summoned his soul. It gleamed in the low light of the bathroom, shining like a star. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, hoping he was wrong. He took a deep breath, crossed his fingers, and tried to dismiss his soul.

It resisted him, sluggish and stubborn.

He swore again, hands flat against the counter. “c’mon,” he muttered, “not yet.” He tried one more time, and while he did successfully dismiss his soul, it didn’t go readily. As much as he might like to deny it, he could recognize the early signs of heat—the warmth flushing his bones, the craving for junk food. And his fantasy about Edge.

He rubbed his forehead. He needed to call Edge. Rus didn’t need him yet, but he didn’t want to spring this on him either. It would be better to call him now so they could at least discuss everything before Rus became…distracted.

He threw a robe on and sat on the bed, already dialing. “c’mon, precious. pick up.” It rang and rang, then went to voicemail. He tried again; no answer. This time, he called the embassy. A monster he didn’t know said he wasn’t available.

“Did you try his cell phone?”

“yes!” He flinched, realizing his tone was harsher than intended. “can you just…tell him to call me back? it’s important.” Rus stood, starting to pace.

“Of course,” she said in a blandly pleasant voice that meant she couldn’t give a shit about him or his problems and probably wouldn’t tell Edge anything.

“thanks,” he muttered. He tried Edge’s number one more time, and when he still didn’t answer—okay, seriously, what the fuck was he even doing?—Rus decided it was time to call in backup.

He called Hook.

He could hear her grin, stretched wide as she said, “Heya, sweetpiece. What’s up?”

“is edge with you?”

“Nah. He went to go talk to Scales.” That at least explained why he wasn’t answering his phone. Scales apparently had a strict ‘no cell phones’ policy in her office, to Papyrus’ annoyance. “You need help with something?”

“uh, yeah. you could say that.” He twisted the tie of his robe. “can you tell him I need to talk to him? it’s important.”

“How important?”

Rus shut his sockets, hand on his brow. “uh…pretty important. and kinda time sensitive.”

“Hmph. I’ll get him, then.”

“thanks.” He hesitated, then just before she hung up, added, “would you…just send him home? if you can? it’d be better to talk to him in person.”

Hook was silent for a beat. “…anything you want to tell me, sweetpiece?”

“uh. no?”

She grunted. Then, voice firm, she said, “I’ll get him to you. Gift wrapped, if necessary.”

He smiled tiredly. “no gift wrapping; it’d take too long.”

“Understood. He’ll be there in ten.”

Rus did not point out that it took at least twenty minutes to get to the embassy. “thanks, hook.”

“Any time. Oh, and—good luck. Sounds like you need it.”

He laughed sourly. “thanks.” He was starting to feel nauseous. “i think i will.” He rubbed the spot over his sternum, begging his soul to hold off just a bit longer. He flopped backwards onto the bed.

Stars above, couldn’t he have had one more day? Just one?

“fuck you,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. Knowing that nothing was listening. And if there was a higher power looking down on him…

…well it certainly had a sick sense of humor.

Chapter Text

Cash stormed out of the house, furious at Twist, at himself. Just furious in general. Red and Slim turned to look at him. “cash?” Cash swept past them both, walking toward his car without a word. As soon as he got in the driver’s seat, Slim appeared in the passenger’s seat with a soft pop. “what happened?”

“he’s an idiot!” His hands clenched tight around the steering wheel. Slim cocked a brow bone, but Cash didn’t elaborate. Instead, he just jammed the keys in the ignition. He shot a glare at Slim. “well?”

“well what?”

“tell me i’m an asshole. tell me i’m a selfish bastard. tell me twist deserves better than that.” He waited, eyelight flaring and breathing tight.

Slim just buckled his seatbelt. “where are we going?”

Cash swore and hit the steering wheel with the butt of his hand. With a screech of tires, he peeled out of the driveway. He got on the highway as soon as possible, not sure where he was headed except ‘away’. He pressed the pedal to the floor, weaving between and around the other cars on the road. It was reckless, but he couldn’t bring himself to care until he spotted a cop car up ahead. A traffic stop was the last thing he needed right now. Reluctantly, he slowed to a more reasonable speed, though it felt like the car was now crawling down the highway. He set the cruise control and stayed off the gas after that. His hands still clutched the wheel so tight the mana had been drawn out of his knucklebones.

All the while, Slim sat quietly in his seat, playing on his cell phone, sucker in his mouth. Cash rolled down the window and lit a cigarillo, leaning back in his seat as the nicotine hit his system. They sat in silence for a while, until Slim asked, “you mind music?”

Cash shook his head tightly, and Slim jacked his phone into the AUX. Dark Side of the Moon started to play, and Slim leaned back, shutting his sockets. Cash glanced at him before turning his attention back to the road. They drove for a while, just listening to the swell of the music. If the music was meant to calm him down, it failed at that. When ‘Money’ started playing, Cash was reminded all over again how unbearable Twist was. Him and his stupid custom ringtones and his stupid puns and—

“he’s an asshole,” Cash finally said, “and an idiot.”

“twist?”

He nodded sharply. “he said—“ His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “it doesn’t matter. he’s a jackass.”

Slim shrugged. “seems like his lv was talking, if you’re this upset about it.”

“i’m not—“ He bit down on what would have been the most absurd lie he’d ever told. “it wasn’t the lv. he’s just an idiot,” he bit out.

“okay.”

Cash pushed the pedal to the floor, speeding around a little Volkswagen beetle. “that’s it? ‘okay’? you’re not going to defend him?”

Slim shrugged. “i mean…it’s twist. i don’t think he’s an idiot, but he can be frustrating.”

“more like infuriating.” Cash raised his middle finger at the beetle, viciously satisfied by the outrage on the driver’s face.

Slim watched this in silence. After a while, he said, “it’s hard to know how to help him. twist, i mean. especially when he runs out of the house and disappears for a whole day.”

Cash grunted in agreement. “asshole. can’t even reply to a fucking text.”

“or when he just…shuts down. pretends everything is fine.” He fiddled idly with his phone.

“jackass. like we can’t see it’s not fucking fine.” He glared at another driver as he passed them.

“yeah. or when he says things about himself. about his lv.”

Cash’s hands tightened. “that motherfucker.”

“yeah,” Slim drawled, “that motherfucker.” Cash looked at him, surprised by the fondness in his tone, only to be caught by his rueful smile.

That expression cut Cash to the quick. He realized he’d said too much—far too much—and now there was a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard. His good socket burned with unshed tears, and he started looking for an exit. Any exit. He needed to get off the road. Now.

He swallowed hard as he pulled onto a surface street and pulled over, idling at the mouth of an alleyway. He stared straight ahead, trying to get his emotions back under control. The music had mellowed and softened, a wordless instrumental track that hit strange spikes of distracting discordance. He wanted to shut it off, wanted to tell Slim to get out; he was done playing taxi.

It would be easier than accepting the fondness in Slim’s smile. Easier than admitting he wasn’t really angry with Twist.

He was worried. Frantic.

Yet he found himself unable to take the easy path, the path he’d always traveled. Because it was Slim beside him. Pushing Twist away was easy, because Twist always came back. Cash knew that. Depended on it. But Slim….

Slim just might believe him, if Cash said he didn’t want him there.

So he shut off the car and turned down the music, until it was nothing more than a subtle whisper. He exhaled slowly. “you want to hear what he said?”

Slim nodded.

“he said we’d be better off if they’d kept him underground.”

Slim winced, looking away. His fingers drummed restlessly in time to the strains of ‘Brain Damage’ now thrumming through the speakers. “you’re right. he is an idiot.”

Cash squeezed his socket shut and clenched his hand, wanting to scream and yell and—

Cry. He covered his socket as the first tear slipped past his control. He swore, but Slim just glanced his way and passed him a tissue.

Cash snatched it from him, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge the tears or the kindness of the gesture.

“he’s not going back,” Slim said. His voice was soft but firm.

“he can fucking try.”

Slim snickered. Then, after a moment, he added more seriously, “we’re not losing him to his lv either.” Cash didn’t miss the way he’d said that, didn’t miss the plural. Or the implication of ownership. Slim could have meant it in a general sense—could have meant their skeleton family or the world at large. But in the intimacy of the car, Cash knew exactly what he meant by ‘we’.

“how’s that?” He flicked his lighter, focusing on the flame because it was easier than looking at Slim. “he’s so fucking determined to fall, how—?” His throat closed up.

Slim folded his hand over Cash’s and the flame went out. “he’s stronger than he thinks he is.” Slim squeezed his hand before pulling back. “and he’s not as alone as he thinks he is either.” Slim held his gaze for a moment before his eyelights darted away. He sat back in his seat, tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie. “he’ll be okay.”

Cash shut his socket and leaned back. The music shifted as another song began. The lyrics caught at him, making his soul ache. He grit his teeth as the music swelled and crested, then went silent. It was, apparently, the final track.

Cash took a breath, ignoring the way it shuddered as he inhaled. He swallowed, pulling another cigarillo from the case as the silence lingered. He didn’t light it, just toyed with it. “you’re the only person i know who listens to music like that.”

“like what?”

“by album. everyone else just uses shuffle.”

Slim shrugged, tugging more firmly on his sleeve. “older…older albums are meant to be listened to like that,” he said, voice soft. “they’re meant to tell a story. this one—“ His hands fluttered and his voice picked up. “this one in particular. when it was originally released on a record, each side was essentially a full, continuous song. no breaks. it just blends.” He wasn’t looking at Cash, but he was becoming more animated as he spoke, his words picking up speed and his hands miming—not signing—as they did. “the first side—it all starts with a heartbeat. then it blends into—“ He seemed to realize how fast he was talking and about what. He fell silent and signed, ‘sorry.’

One of these days, Cash was going to have words with whoever made Slim ashamed to speak of the things he loved.

He waved away the apology. “‘s fine. didn’t know that. it’s interesting.” Slim glanced at him but didn’t resume his speech. “you have another one?”

Slim blinked, then bent his head over his phone, searching his collection. Cash eyed Slim’s hand, remembering what it felt like to have it covering his own. He looked away, trying to swallow down the sentimentality. It meant nothing. He had no reason to wish it had, or to wish Slim would—

‘Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap’ came blasting through the speakers. Cash jumped, and Slim gave him a cheeky smile. He huffed. “funny.”

“you want to get something to eat?”

Cash blinked, then rolled his eyelight. “you have a place in mind?”

Slim nodded. “yeah. head this way. we’re not far from the wharf. i know a spot with the best fish and chips.”

“it’s not even ten yet.”

Slim shrugged, grinning a little. “great! we’ll miss the lunch hour rush.”

Cash shook his head, trying not to smile as he took them to the wharf. And trying not to laugh outright when the third track on the album clicked on. Slim snickered silently beside him, covering his mouth to hide his broad grin. Cash just shook his head, unable to repress a lopsided grin. “real funny,” he said again, though his feigned annoyance was an obvious ruse.

They parked in a small lot by the water. Slim grinned as he stepped out, stretching dramatically and taking a deep, performative breath. “smell that?”

“what? fish?”

“the ocean.”

Cash stuffed his hands into his pockets. “yeah. smells like fish,” he said gruffly. Slim shook his head and walked alongside him, still smiling.

“have you been out this way?”

Cash shook his head. “no reason to.”

Slim knocked his shoulder into Cash. “you need a reason to go see the ocean?”

Cash had no response to that. They walked in silence for a while. Overhead, gulls called, and the waves crashed beside them. It was breezy here, closer to the water, and the ocean smell was more prominent. Cash privately had to admit it was a nice, fresh scent—not quite fishy, despite the salty tang.

“wait,” Slim said suddenly, tugging him into a shop. “here first.”

Cash raised a brow-bone but understood when he realized it was a candy shop, specializing in salt water taffy. Large barrels of the stuff lined the floor, each full to the brim with a different flavor. It smelled sweet inside, almost too sweet. Slim waved at the cashier, then he grabbed three paper bags, giving one to Cash and keeping the other two.

Bemused, Cash followed behind him as he started walking down the aisle. Slim paused in front of certain barrels to grab a handful of candy for one bag or the other, bypassing others entirely.

“why do you need two bags?” he finally asked. His own remained empty.

“one’s for twist.”

“he doesn’t like candy.”

Slim shrugged. “he likes the fruity flavored ones.” Cash grunted at that. Slim paused beside the bin labeled ‘green apple’, glancing back at Cash. “he doesn’t like apple, though.”

“no. he doesn’t.”

Slim tugged on the end of his sleeve. “…there’s more to it than just a personal preference, isn’t there?”

Cash looked away, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Blackberry. He gave a short nod. Slim eyed him. He swallowed, then started down the aisle again. Both of them were quiet for a while, sunk in their own thoughts. Finally, Slim asked, “did he say anything? about…her? what he’s going to do?”

Cash’s fingers itched for a cigarillo, but they were indoors. He settled on a coin instead. “nothing.” He huffed, not sure what else to say. Blackberry had given him information, but nothing useful. And Twist…. He huffed, hunching his shoulders and grabbing a handful of candy out of a random bin. “just that he didn’t want any help.” He stuffed the candy in the bag, angry at Twist all over again.

Slim watched him. “didn’t know you liked blue razzberry that much.”

Cash blinked. Then he looked up at Slim, who smiled hesitantly back at him. It nearly froze Cash in place. This kind of soft-edged banter wasn’t something he knew how to engage in. He knew how to snap at people, how to insult them, how to push them away—except Twist, who laughed at his insults like they were jokes, who treated his snappish replies like any other kind of banter. Slim was inviting him to participate in something sweeter, kinder.

And he didn’t know how.

He looked away, hunching his shoulders. “never had this stuff before. it’s all made of the same thing; doesn’t it taste the same?”

Slim stepped up alongside him, smiling. “here—let’s get you a variety of flavors, so you can see which ones you like for next time.” He took Cash’s hand and brought him back to the front of the shop. His soul stuttered, though the contact didn’t last nearly long enough.

Slim grabbed candy from various bins, dropping it in Cash’s bag as he went. He skipped some, pointing out other flavors they were similar to. When they reached the register, the old woman at the counter smiled. She signed but she spoke aloud as well, saying, “Good morning. I see you brought a friend with you this time.”

Cash didn’t recognize her signs—or the signs Slim used in reply. “‘morning. this is cash.” A faint purple flushed Slim’s cheekbones. He cleared his throat. “he’s never had taffy before.”

She beamed, revealing a few missing teeth. “Well! It’s nice to meet you, Cash. I hope you enjoy.”

He had no idea how to reply to that. He settled on a sharp nod and a soft, “thanks.”

Smiling, Slim put his candy on the scale to pay, but Cash shooed him away from the register and added his bag to the scale.

“you don’t have to—“

In Hands, Cash said, ‘my treat.’

Slim looked away, the blush growing brighter, but he didn’t offer any further protest. Cash finished paying, and the old woman waved at them as they left. “Enjoy your date, boys!”

Cash’s head snapped around to stare at her. Slim took his hand and tugged Cash out the door.

Once they were outside, Slim’s mouth worked but no sound came out. He pulled his hand free. They fluttered, then shaped a jumble of words. ‘sorry. she’s very friendly and she practices ASL with me—i didn’t think she’d assume—‘ His hands flexed for a beat, wordless. ‘i—sorry. if you’re uncomfortable…we…. we can go home.’

Cash watched his hands shape the words. He watched the mix of emotions twist across Slim’s face. He touched the back of his metacarpals, where Slim’s fingers had rested a moment before.

He swallowed, and he took a leap.

“i don’t want to go home.” His soul beat hard. “but if this was a date…” Slim’s head jerked up, sockets wide and eyelights bright. “…i’d want to hold your hand.” Slim stared at him. Cash looked away, shutting his socket. “not that i expect—“

The rush of words stopped when he felt a hand curl around his.

He looked at Slim, who smiled back at him. His free hand fluttered, then he said, voice soft, “i want that too.”

Cash eyed their clasped hands, then flexed his fingers to lace them together. “alright then. where to next?”

Slim smiled at him and led on.

Cash felt oddly lightheaded. Light bodied. Like he’d simply float away if Slim didn’t keep him tethered. This didn’t seem real. He kept expecting to wake up or for Slim to crack a joke and ask if Cash really thought he could ever—

But Slim kept flashing him these small, secret smiles, and his hand was warm and solid in his grip. They didn’t let go until they reached the fish and chips stand. They placed their order at the walk up window, and Cash grabbed a bottle of malt vinegar to go with the food.

They ate sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean, passing the bottle of vinegar between them—taking occasional sips like they were sneaking liquor. It burned like liquor and agitated their magic like liquor never could. And Slim’s mischievous grin as he took a swig, coughing and laughing by turns, sent Cash’s skull spinning and his soul pounding.

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.

After, they just walked along the wharf, still passing the bottle back and forth, fingertips brushing. They didn’t speak much, but it was a comfortable silence, filled by the rhythmic crash of the waves and the rush of the wind, sharp and cold off the water. It carried with it the distinct smell of brine and seaweed. Cash was grateful for it, though; the sun was over-warm, and he’d have been hot without it.

They watched boats depart from the dock, snickering over some of the more ridiculous names. Slim passed him various pieces of taffy, announcing their flavor as he did. It was sweet, with no trace of salt Cash could detect. And Slim was right—for the most part, the flavors differed wildly. Cinnamon roll—the taffy itself swirled to resemble its namesake—turned out to be a favorite. Blue razzberry was decidedly not.

Slim laughed while Cash took a long swig of vinegar to get the taste out of his mouth—the harsh acidity was not quite an improvement, but it was preferable nonetheless.

“huh,” Slim said, eyeing a piece of the blue candy. “twist likes them,” he said in leu of an apology.

“twist drinks horseradish,” Cash snapped in reply.

Slim smirked, eyelights sparkling with amusement. He held out another piece. “wanna try watermelon? it’s his favorite.”

Cash eyed it with suspicion. “pass.”

Slim’s eyelights sparkled with mischief, and he tucked the candy back into the bag rather than eat it himself, leading Cash to assume he’d just dodged a bullet. Overhead, seagulls circled, their calls like laughter.

“you come out here a lot?” Cash asked.

Slim, sucking on a piece of taffy—probably cinnamon roll, and certainly not watermelon or blue razzberry—nodded. With his hands, he said, ‘my therapist’s office is over there.’ He pointed. ‘sometimes i come out here after. just to think. watch the water. that kind of thing.’

Cash was quiet for a while. “does it help?”

He swallowed down the candy. “thinking?”

“therapy.”

Slim’s hands stuttered. He looked out at the horizon. “i…” His hands took over. ‘i think so. it took awhile to find someone but…yeah. i think it helps.’

Cash grunted, gaze turned toward the water. He leaned against the railing, watching the waves roll in. Slim stood alongside him, facing the other way. His hands flexed. “do you think…?” Cash eyed him. Slim looked down to peel a fresh piece of taffy. Buying himself a moment before he had to finish. Sucking on the candy, he asked, ‘think it could help twist?’

Cash looked back out at the water. He lit a cigarillo, aware he too was just buying time before he had to answer. “no idea. might. but…there’s no way to lower his lv. and the medicine he does use…”

‘Medicine’ was too generous. It was poison. A paralytic strong enough to knock him down after an 8 oz dose of what they called his tea. It was just a treatment the Twistfell brothers had cobbled together while they were Underground. Something to keep Twist contained when he didn’t think he could control himself.

It was a short term solution to a long-term problem. Twist had implied the long-term solution was just a higher dose of the same, but Cash didn’t want to think about that. That was no solution at all, even if Twist had resigned himself to it.

“…isn’t,” he finished.

Slim stood solemnly beside him, both of them silent for a while. Neither knew what to say in the face of a problem no one knew how to solve. If it could be solved.

“we should bring him,” Slim said finally, voice soft. “next time.”

Cash’s throat felt tight again. He took a deep drag off his cigarillo and felt it burn all the way down his spine. The heat lingered in his bones as he let the smoke trail from his mouth and nasal ridge. “yeah. next time.”

He nearly pitched the spent butt into the ocean, but Slim’s presence stopped him. Slim loved this place. Cash couldn’t spoil it, even in a small way. So, he took Slim’s hand and found a waste bin. They emptied the bottle of malt vinegar, each taking a sip of what remained, and then that too went in the bin. The warmth of the vinegar lingered, and he released Slim’s hand to wrap an arm around his waist instead.

Slim surprised him by not just leaning in, but turning into his chest. They were both of near equal height, Slim just a hair smaller. Cash’s soul sped up, and his other hand landed on Slim’s hip.

Slim’s hands pressed to his chest, hot as branding irons. Surely, surely, Slim could feel his soul’s wild hammering under his fingers. A flush swept over the good side of Cash’s face. The dead side remained cool and unfeeling, never so noticeable as it was at that moment. “slim….”

His soul lurched as Slim brought their mouths together. Cash’s magic rushed to respond, as implacable as the ocean beside them. He could taste the lingering acidity of the vinegar, the sweetness of the candy, and something purely Slim beside.

Someone groaned. Impossible to tell who. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nothing did. Slim was with him. Slim was kissing him. They were here and this was good and everything felt so wonderfully right for once in his miserable fucking life—

His soul manifested.

Cash’s socket went wide. All the pleasure of a moment before swirled into panic.

Slim clutched at him, sockets wide and eyelights panicked. His fingers shaped nonsense, a pidgin mix of Hands and something else. “we have to leave,” Cash said, searching the dock to see if anyone had noticed them, if anyone had seen. “i’m—my soul—“

Slim nodded frantically, pressing Cash’s hand to his own chest. Through his mounting panic, it took Cash a moment to understand.

Slim. Slim’s soul had manifested too. They were in heat. Both of them. At the same time.

That was the last straw. A fierce, illogical protectiveness reared up and he wrapped his arms around Slim, hugging him close.

They needed to get away.

They needed to be somewhere safe.

Those were the only two thoughts in his head as he took an undirected shortcut, aiming only for safety.

Chapter Text

As soon as Edge arrived at the embassy, Undyne Hook could tell he needed to let off some steam. To anyone else, his tense posture probably looked no different from the way he always carried himself, but she could see the little differences few others would pick up on. The way he surveyed the room when he walked in. The way his jaw twitched when one of the humans employed there cornered him and tried their hand at small talk.

So she brought two fingers to her mouth and whistled to catch his attention. He glanced her way before excusing himself to join her.

She grinned as he approached. “Heya, gutter-rat. So?”

“‘So?’ what?”

“So what’s got you looking so sour? Thought dating the sweet-piece would improve your mood a little….”

He glared. “He’s not a sweet-piece. Stop calling him that.”

“Oh, yeah? How’re you gonna stop me?”

He ground his teeth. Her grin widened; he was definitely having a rough morning. “I’m going to ask you very politely not to,” he bit out, “and you’re going to respect that as my friend—“

She waved him off with her good hand, while swinging her prosthetic over his shoulders and pulling him close. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we go out back and settle this like monsters?”

He eyed a soft-looking Whimsun wandering past. “I assume you mean like Fell monsters.”

“Nah,” she said, shaking his shoulder. “Unless some bloodshed’ll get you to relax, I think we can probably just shove each other around a bit. Nothing serious.”

Edge huffed, allowing her to steer him towards the basketball ball courts out back. “…a little bloodshed wouldn’t be unwelcome,” he muttered.

She grinned.

-

“Cripes, gutter-rat. You’re really off your game today—what gives?”

They stood a few feet apart, circling slowly. She gripped a spear staff in hand, and he wielded a long-bone to meet her strikes. “I am not off my—!” She swung at his knees, and he hop-stepped to avoid the staff, apparently forgetting to protect his face from the other end. He swore, and she laughed, darting away before the clumsy swipe he aimed at her shoulder could connect.

“Like hell you’re not!” She ducked the swing of his bone club, darting forward to get inside his guard. His struck at her ribs, aiming to drive her back. She blocked, and their weapons met with a satisfying clack.

They resumed their slow circling. “What’s got you so distracted?” she asked, watching him carefully.

He went right, but as she raised her staff to meet him, he darted left and stuck her thigh rather solidly. She swore, but spun to keep her eye on him, blocking the series of blows he aimed at her abdomen, neck, and groin. “Mean and distracted,” she corrected.

“You hit me in the face!”

“Wanted to see if I could widen that crack—“ She jabbed the end of her staff at his side, and he leapt back. This time, he was prepared for the following strike at his face and blocked it, glaring. She smirked. “—in your skull. Call it scientific curiosity.”

He huffed. “You have the curiosity of a toad. And the viciousness of a snake.”

“Compliments can’t save you now, gutter-rat.” He snorted and blocked her next few blows. She swept her leg out, aiming to catch him off guard. He dodged back, and brought his club around, aiming to strike her ribs. Their weapons met with another clack.

She loved that sound.

She pressed her staff into his club, and he pushed against her to keep her from forcing him back. “So? What happened?”

“You want to—“ His breathing was hard. Irregular. “—discuss this now?”

“Would you rather discuss your footwork? Because it sucks. You’re dragging today.”

His sockets narrowed, but he didn’t deny it.

He dismissed the club, and she stumbled. “Fuck—!” He stepped into her and dropped his elbow on her shoulder blade, her momentum carrying her into the strike.

She dismissed her staff and wrapped her arm around his spine, using their momentum and her weight to knock him off his feet. It brought them both to the ground. He cushioned her fall—barely—but he landed hard on his back. Had he been a fleshy monster, it would have knocked the breath from his lungs. As a skeleton, he recovered quickly.

He turned his head, jaw brushing her shoulder, and she snapped, “Don’t you dare bite me!”

His jaw clicked and a flush colored his cheekbones. “I wasn’t—“

“You were!” She pressed a hand to his sternum and forced him down, driving a knee into his pelvis to hold him there—and ignoring his yelp of discomfort. “I know you; the dirty tricks start to come out when you’re cornered.”

“I wasn’t going to bite you during a sparring match!” He glared up at her.

She smirked. “Like hell you weren’t.”

“Fine! I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not.” He shifted, trying to get out from under her, but she didn’t move. “Hook. Let me up.”

“Nope. You still haven’t told me what’s on your mind. And it has to be pretty serious if you can’t even hold your own in a sparring match with me.”

His sockets narrowed, and he dug his thumb into her thigh, where his club had already left a bruise. She hissed, shifting to lessen his grip. He took advantage immediately, rolling her onto her back and gripping her just above the elbows to hold her down. “Keep talking shit and we’ll see just how well I can ‘hold my own.’”

She snorted, rubbing her thigh. “You’re only proving my point. You play dirty when you get desperate. So? What’s got you feeling trapped?”

Something flickered in his eyelights, and he looked out toward the embassy. She struck fast, jabbing him in the ribcage with her prosthetic as soon as his grip loosened, then leveraging him onto his back. She leaned one arm across his chest, while her good hand caught and pinned his wrists above his head. He glared up at her, flexing his arms to test her grip. “Right. I’m the one playing dirty,” he snapped.

She grinned, unapologetic. “Looked like you were going to pull a runner on me. And we’re not done talking.”

He huffed, again testing her grip. She squeezed until he winced, and he stopped struggling. “You’re unbearable. I hope you know that.”

“Not the information I’m looking for, but good try.”

“Stars on fire! It’s just….” He huffed. His eyelights darted to the side. His fingers twitched. “It’s just Twist.”

She raised a brow. “Something happen?”

His jaw tightened, and he turned his head, looking away from her. “His brother went into heat last night.” Her stomach flipped at the word. “Set off his LV. I spent the morning with him, calming him down.”

Her mouth felt dry. She cursed herself for asking because this was the very last thing she felt like talking about. But Edge was watching her from the corner of his socket. Waiting. So she forced a grin and cocked a brow, asking, “Over that?” She whistled. “Man, some of you skeletons have the weirdest hang-ups.”

He shut his sockets briefly, and his hands flexed again. She tightened her grip, not ready to free him just yet. “I doubt Twist was overcome by his sense of decency,” he said wryly, earning an amused snort from her.

“You think there’s more going on?”

He gave a clipped nod. “You know what happened at C’s?” She nodded. “Twist said something this morning. He was being rather cryptic, but…. He’s riding the edge, and I think his Muffet may be pushing him closer and closer to it. I’m afraid he may make some choices he’ll regret if he doesn’t get some help.”

She gave another low whistle. “Well, shit. Sounds like Trouble’s living up to his name—”

“You’re literally the only one that calls him that.”

“And I’m right, aren’t I? He’s trouble.” She smirked. “The fun kind, but still.” The knot of anxiety she’d been ignoring unspooled a little as they changed topics, now discussing something she felt equipped to deal with. “Well?” she asked, “What are you laying around here for? C’mon.” She hopped to her feet—causing Edge to swear, since she’d used him as her springboard. To make up for it, she held her prosthetic out to him. “Let’s see what we can do.”

He glared at her prosthetic, batting it away as he stood upright. “He said he didn’t want help.”

“When has that ever stopped you?”

His mouth twitched, his smirk subtle. “I didn’t say it was going to stop me. I just thought you might want to know he’s not going to thank us for interfering.”

She clapped him on the back and steered him toward the embassy. “That’s alright. I’m used to thankless jobs.” She grinned. “I trained you, didn’t I?” He elbowed her in the ribs for that, and she wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his head down so she could knuckle his skull. “See? Thankless.”

“Hook!” He shoved at her hand, glaring, while she just laughed at his umbrage.

Until he wrapped his leg around hers, tripping them both. He wrested free as she fell and darted away, putting a ‘safe’ distance between them.

From the door, a too-familiar voice asked, “She picking on you, edgelord?”

Hook propped herself up to better eye her counterpart. “I’m not picking on him,” she said, at the same time Edge sniffed and said, “We were sparring.”

Undyne looked between the two of them, gaze lingering on Edge’s face. “Sparring, huh? That how you got the shiner?”

He raised a hand to his cheekbone, where a bruise was developing. “Perhaps. Is there a problem, ambassador?” he asked. Hook stood, dusting herself off. She came to stand beside Edge, both of them eyeing Undyne.

She leaned against the wall of the embassy, one elbow casually blocking the entrance. “Nah. Just checking in on you guys.” She eyed the bank of windows that faced the basketball court they’d been using as a sparring arena. “Looked like things were getting a little rough out there. You two okay?”

Hook lifted her chin. “We’re Fell-verse. Rough’s what we do.”

Undyne cocked a brow. “Still. Doesn’t mean you need to hurt each other.”

Hook bristled, but Edge stepped forward. Behind his back, he signed, ‘steady’ where only she could see. She grit her teeth but backed down, trusting him to take the lead. It was a system that had gotten them through more than one ‘party’ in the Capital with their heads still attached. Despite all expectations, the gutter-rat had quickly become the more diplomatic of the pair. “Your concern is appreciated, but we’re fine,” he said. “Perhaps a few bruises. Nothing more serious than that.”

Crossing her arms, Undyne looked out at the basketball courts. “I’ll put in an order for some mats, at least. No reason you two need to duke it out on the concrete if you have to let off some steam.”

“That would be appreciated, ambassador,” Edge said with a little nod. “Is there anything we can help you with?”

Undyne gave Hook a thoughtful glance, then she clasped her hands behind her head. “I’m just getting some fresh air. Don’t mind me.” Hook glared; she didn’t believe that for a moment.

“Excellent,” Edge said, rocking on his heels a bit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—I’m going to go find Scales. I believe she might have some information I’m looking for.” He deliberately turned and gave Hook a crisp salute. “Captain.”

She had an idea of what kind of information he was hoping to get from Scales. “Keep me updated, Lieutenant. Let me know if I can give you a hand.”

He eyed her prosthetic. “I didn’t think you can spare another, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

She grinned, shark-like—even more amused by the expression on Undyne’s face when she heard the off-color joke. “I’m sure Spike can find an extra for me. Somewhere.”

That earned a laugh from him, sharp and short. “I’m sure she can.” He gave Undyne another nod as he passed. “Ambassador.”

She returned the nod and let him go, but once the door shut behind him, she turned her gaze on Hook. “I think that’s the nicest way anyone’s ever told me to mind my own business,” she said.

Hook shook her head. “Nah. That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever told you to fuck off.”

Undyne snorted, apparently unfazed. She eyed the door for a moment, her expression thoughtful. Finally, she said, “You know…you’re not Underground anymore. You don’t have to be so hard on him.”

Hook’s spine stiffened, expression chilling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Hard on him?” She laughed. “You think that was being hard on him? You’re kidding, right? We were just fucking around out there—barely even sparring. He needed to let off some steam, and I let him.”

“I’m just saying you can afford to go easy on him every once in a while—”

Hook laughed again. “Go easy? On Papyrus? My Papyrus? Look, I don’t say shit about the way you treat your Papyrus—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hook crossed her arms, cocking a brow. “Let’s just say my Papyrus wouldn’t thank me for going easy on him. I’d be surprised if yours appreciates it either.”

Undyne went very still, mouth thinning. “Yeah, well, I don’t think he’d want me to hit him in the face during a sparring match either.”

“He gives as good as he gets. And if I even tried to ‘go easy’ on him, he’d take the other hand on principle.” She held up her prosthetic to illustrate. “So get down from your high horse and back the fuck off. We’re fine.”

Undyne exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Look. This isn’t how I wanted this conversation to go. I just wanted to ask if you two were okay. Maybe I’m just Tale-verse but where I come from, stress like that comes from somewhere.” She eyed the door. “Maybe you’ve only got one hand to lend, but I’ve got two—understand?”

Hook crossed her arms again, considering. “Trouble’s got a spider problem. The gutter-rat—” Undyne’s mouth thinned again at the nickname, and Hook smiled viciously. “—is going to see what he can dig up on her. See how deep the problem goes. That’s all.” She shrugged expansively. “Looks like a Fell-verse problem to me. Might get a bit too rough for you.” Undyne straightened and her jaw twitched, hands curling into fists. Hook grinned, seeing that. “What? Thinking about giving me and my lieutenant matching bruises? Isn’t that beneath you, Tale-verse?”

Undyne eyed the basketball courts. “I’m thinking we might need to have a ‘sparring’ match of our own.”

“Name your time and place. I’ll even take off my prosthetic to keep things fair.”

“Oh, that is it—”

Hook’s phone rang, and she held up a finger, grin going wider when Undyne growled. “Heya, sweet-piece. What’s up?”

“is edge with you?”

“Nah. He went to go talk to Scales. You need help with something?”

“uh, yeah. you could say that. can you tell him I need to talk to him? it’s important.”

Hook paused, smile dimming as she detected the distress in his voice. “How important?”

“uh…pretty important. and kinda time sensitive.”

“What’s going on?” Undyne asked, but Hook waved her off.

“Hmph. I’ll get him then,” she said.

“thanks.” She moved toward the door, but he added, “would you…just send him home? if you can? it’d be better to talk to him in person.” He sounded small and scared.

Her hackles went up immediately. She speared Undyne with a look—not antagonistic, now, but alarmed. “…anything you want to tell me, sweet-piece?” Undyne drew closer, head tilted as she listened to Rus’ response.

“uh. no?”

Hook’s mouth settled into a grim line. “I’ll get him to you. Gift wrapped, if necessary.”

“no gift wrapping; it’d take too long.” Even his banter sounded tired.

“Understood. He’ll be there in ten.”

“thanks, hook.”

“Any time. Oh, and—good luck. Sounds like you need it.”

His laughter was sour and strained. “thanks. i think i will.”

She and Undyne shared a look. Whatever their differences, they were allies in this. “Any idea what that was about?”

“Not a clue,” Hook said, pocketing her phone. “C’mon. Let’s get Edge. Tell him Rus needs him.”

Undyne fell into step behind her as they walked back into the embassy. At this time of the morning, things were just starting to pick up, but with Papyrus’ absence, it was noticeably quieter than usual. Hook didn’t bother knocking on Scales’ door, preferring to barge in instead. “Hey, Rus called—” She went silent, taking in the scene before her. Scales looked the same as she always did, but Edge was furious. Not vocally. Not in a way Scales or Undyne would see, but it was writ in every tensed vertebra and curling phalange.

“Ah. Captain. I’m so glad you’re here.” The polite, genial tone caused the scales on the back of her neck to prickle. “Judge, would you mind relaying to the ambassador and the captain what you just told me?”

Scales sighed. “Edge—I’m busy. I don’t have time for this. And do you two not know how to knock?”

He smiled. It was the kind of smile that made the back of Hook’s teeth itch. “Please, Judge. Indulge me.”

Scales looked skyward and closed whatever ledger she’d been working on. “Fine, but after this, I’m not discussing it again—got that?”

“We will respect your wishes, of course,” he said, glancing at Hook and Undyne. His gaze caught hers, and Hook nearly summoned a spear, ready to do battle with whatever had him so riled up.

Shaking her head, Scales leaned both arms on the desk, hands clasped. “Listen. I know this isn’t what any of you want to hear, but I’m just being straight with you; you’re wasting your time, getting involved with Muffet and P—with Ella and Twist. They’re both high LV monsters, with an extensive history of violence—against each other and anyone who tried to challenge them.” She shrugged. “They just aren’t the kind of people that can transition into polite society. I’m sorry. I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s just the way it is.”

“So, we should just…” He gestured loosely, still wearing that terrifying grin. “Leave them to themselves?”

“That’s my opinion, yes.”

“And if she causes him to fall?”

“Edge…he’s going to fall anyway. So is she. It’s just a matter of time. And pressure. They aren’t made to last up here. Peace isn’t for people like them.”

Hook had heard enough. She understood why Edge had been so wound up now. She touched his elbow, and he tilted his head to give her another Look. “I got it from here.” He took a breath, about to say something, but she added, “Rus called. He needs you. He didn’t say why, but he did say it was urgent. We’ll handle this.”

The fury drained from him all at once, replaced by panic. His sockets went wide and his eyelights dimmed. “He—” Remembering himself, Edge glanced at Scales, and his impervious mask was back in place in an instant. “Thank you, Captain. We’ll speak later.” He slipped past them both, moving fast.

Undyne shut the door behind him, then twisted the lock. Hook crossed her arms, looking down at Scales. Undyne came to stand beside her, one hand on her hip. Scales looked at both of them and sighed, slouching in her chair. “Oh, c’mon—what is this? Are you two trying to intimidate me?”

“No,” Undyne said.

“Not yet,” Hook added.

Scales leaned back in her chair, rubbing the spot between her eyes. “I don’t understand why you two are even involved here. I get Edge—everyone knows the skeletons are all up in each other’s business—but this doesn’t affect either of you. He’s not even a part of your universes.”

Undyne shook her head. “Yeah, he is. We’ll all in the same universe now. Tale, Fell, Swap, or Twist ‘verse—doesn’t matter anymore.”

Hook just snorted. “Who gives a shit where he came from? He’s here now, and he’s always good for a night on the town. I don’t need more than that.”

Scales looked skyward, swearing under her breath. “Look, I don’t have time for this. I’m meeting with our civil rights attorneys in half an hour, and I have to have these documents prepared. Can you two just—”

Undyne stepped forward, slapping her hand on the desk. “No. You’re going to listen, because this is important. You were the Judge in your Underground, weren’t you?” She didn’t wait for Scales to nod before barreling on. “Well, up here, you’re not. You don’t get to decide who is or isn’t worthy of peace.”

“I’m not deciding that; it’s just a fact. He can’t make it up here—”

“Why?” Hook asked, “Because of his LV? You ever Check me, Judge? Because he’s only one bracket higher than I am. You think I won’t make it up here either?”

“I didn’t say that!” Scales sighed, running a hand down her face. She swore quietly, then looked up at them again. “Listen,” she said, “we can do more good for more people by helping those that actually want to get better. Twist and Ella? They don’t. They haven’t changed at all. They have no desire to change. At this point, I don’t even think they’re capable of it. So, yeah, if they want to needle each other until one or the other snaps, then fine. They’d be doing the rest of us a favor.” Under her breath, she added, “Probably the first good thing either of them has ever done.”

Undyne’s hands curled into fists. “You.” She took a deep breath. “Heartless. Hag.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—we’re name calling now?” Scales asked, looking between them.

“You should be glad that’s all we’re doing,” Hook snapped.

“I can’t believe you’re willing to write off your own people,” Undyne said. “I can’t believe there’s any version of me that would be so callous.”

Scales stood, leaning across the desk with her good eye narrowed. “Alright, that’s it; I’m not going to sit here and be dressed down by the likes of you. You’re Tale-verse. What’s the worst thing you had to deal with in your universe? Because I can guarantee it’s nothing close to the worst thing I’ve seen. When you’ve dealt with the shit I’ve had to deal with, when you’ve had to scrape your friends’ dust off the streets and bring it home to their families in a fucking jar, then we can talk!”

“Yeah?” Hook asked. “You want to talk to me, then? ‘Cause I bet we could swap horror stories all day.”

Scales looked her way, then she nodded slowly. “Yeah. You’re right. We probably could. And if I gave you every horror story I have about Twist, you wouldn’t want to help him either.”

“Oh? You think?” She raised her prosthetic. “You wanna know how I lost my hand?”

Scales rolled her eye, leaning back. “I don’t have time for—!”

“Edge.” Undyne and Scales both stared at her. “Little fucker was working for our version of Muffet. He was a mean little gutter-rat back then. No more than 15 or 16. Fought like a demon, though, especially when he got cornered.” She smiled a little. “He bit me. Right here—” She pointed to where her wrist would have been. “—and his intent was sharp enough my hand went to dust in mouth. He got away that day. But he wasn’t always that lucky. You know what I did when I finally caught him?”

Scales just stared at her, eye wide. It was Undyne who asked, “What?”

“Gave him a home. A job. A boss who wouldn’t—” She took a breath and exhaled slowly. “Who wouldn’t hurt him. You’ve met Edge. You see the kind of monster he grew up to be. You wanna tell me I wasted my time by helping him?”

Scales sighed, then looked away. For a moment, she stared at the wall, gaze focused on nothing. Then she straightened her spine and folded her hands behind her back before looking back at them. “It doesn’t matter—”

“Like hell—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Scales continued, raising her voice. “There’s nothing to be done for either of them now. Maybe I could have done something when Twist was younger. But now…? There’s nothing. So, both of you—out of my office. This conversation is over.” She stood firm and implacable.

Undyne looked her over, shaking her head. “You—” She sneered, then spun on her heel and walked out—too disgusted with her counterpart to dress her down.

Hook leaned forward, hand and prosthetic planted on the desk. She looked Scales in the eye, then spat on the ledger she’d been working on. She wiped her mouth as she straightened.

Scales stared at her, mouth curled in disgust. “You’re a disgrace to the guard,” she said as Hook turned to walk away.

“Like I give a shit.” She slammed the door behind her, then shared a look with Undyne. She slung her good arm over the back of her neck to clamp a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed it. “Alright, Tale-verse. Where do we go from here?”

Undyne glanced at her, fury still simmering in her eye. “First? We’re going outside. Let off some steam. Assuming you’re up to it.”

Hook’s grin was sharp, sharkish. “I’m always up to it.”

Undyne gave a quick nod, then she returned the sharkish grin. “Great. ‘Cause after that, we’ve got some human laws to dig through, and that’s always a huge pain in the ass.”

Hook groaned. “Trouble better appreciate this, or he’s going to have a fish problem as well as a spider problem.”

“…Trouble? Shit. That’s perfect. Why’s everyone call him Twist? That’s way better.”

“That’s what I said!”

Together, they walked out toward the basketball courts, each summoning a staff. They’d barely exchanged opening salvos when Hook got another call. This time, from Edge. “Heya, gutter-rat—your sweet-piece okay?” There was a lingering silence on the other end. She straightened. “Lieutenant—“

She heard a soft click as he swallowed. “Everything is fine.” A lie. She could hear it in his voice, in the way he inhaled before speaking. Anyone else would have missed it, but she knew what he sounded like just before wading into a fight that was about to turn nasty. “I’m just…I’m going to be out for a week. Rus’ heat just hit. I need to be here with him.”

His words didn’t mesh with his tone. He should have been smirking or self-satisfied. Smug.

And yet….

Hook’s stomach dropped as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Her hand flexed around the staff. She tried to force a grin. Tried to say, ‘Nice.’ Or something pithy and teasing. Something to make him squawk in outrage. But her stomach felt like an open pit and the teasing words were like ash in her mouth. Instead, she turned away from Undyne, who looked on with brows lifted, and lowered her voice. “…you’re okay, right?” She started to pace, unable to keep still for this.

Silence on the other end. Then—“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it sounds like you’re getting ready for battle when you should be getting ready to fuck your bonefriend.”

Another long inhale from him. “I’ll see you in a week, Captain.”

She shut her eye. Fuck. He wasn’t okay. She could hear it in his voice, but it was too late to help. She’d known something was wrong, but he’d distracted her with Twist. She wished she’d pushed harder today. Wished she hadn’t bullshitted him the first time they’d talked about heat.

Now, she could only hope the sweet-piece didn’t make it worse. “Good luck, Lieutenant. Call if you need help.”

“Oh? Going to bring your strap, Captain?”

That surprised a laugh out of her. Then again, gallows humor was what he did best. “Think Spike might object to that. But I can drop off groceries and shit.”

He grunted in acknowledgement. “Appreciated.” Then the line went dead.

“Fuck.”

Undyne, currently leaning on her staff, asked, “Everything okay?”

Hook shook her head, staring at her phone. “Yes. No.” She huffed, scrubbing a hand over her face. She thought of their sparring match. His footwork. His breathing. His pace. “Shit.”

“Damn?” Undyne suggested.

“That too.” She pulled up Rus’ contact information and started typing out a message. “Rus is in heat,” she finally said.

Undyne’s grin stretched wide, mirth in her eye. “Edgelord should be pleased about—“ Hook eyed her, and the mirth faded. “Oh. Shit.”

Hook nodded, still looking at her phone. “Yeah. Shit.”

The silence stretched between them as Hook finished typing. Undyne watched her keenly. When Hook sent the text, she asked, “You think he’s just nervous, or—?”

Hook stuffed the phone back into her pocket and grabbed her staff, settling into a ready stance. “No idea. Are we doing this?”

Undyne eyed her, then sighed. “Yeah, but…you know you can talk to me, if you—“

Hook didn’t let her finish, charging forward with her staff at the ready. Undyne met her strike easily, but the clack of their attacks meeting was not so satisfying now. All she could think of as they fought was her match with Edge. All the little clues she’d picked up on but hadn’t understood.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Twist stood at the back of the bus, holding the pole for balance. A child sat a few rows up, turned backwards in their seat so they could stare at him with wide eyes. They’d probably never seen a living skeleton before. Repressing a mischievous grin, Twist subtly palmed a pair of gold coins, one in each hand, then rolled up his sleeves. He glanced at the kid, and they ducked behind the seat, hiding. But they couldn’t resist peering at him from the side.

Twist clutched the pole with one hand, then shook the other, and the coin ‘appeared’ between his fingers, seemingly from nowhere. The kid’s eyes went wide, and Twist rolled the coin over his knuckles. It caught the light, glinting like it was lit with magic. He turned his hand and closed his fist tight around the coin, palming it. He shook his fist once, twice, three times, then opened his hand. The coin didn’t fall from his fingers. Instead, he released the pole with his other hand and flicked his wrist to reveal the coin anew, after it had ‘magically’ transferred from one hand to the other. He heard the kid gasp and allowed himself a small smile. His fingers fluttered, and he palmed the coin once more.

Their mother heard their gasp as well. Seeing where their attention was focused, she quietly scolded them for staring. They shifted in their seat, now facing front, though they kept turning their head to steal glances at him. His smile faded, and he pocketed the coins for real.

He was close enough now to walk, so he tugged the line to signal the driver. At the next stop, he jumped out of the rear exit so he didn’t have to walk by the other passengers. The kid waved at him from the window as he went past, and he offered them a little salute in return. They tugged on their mother’s sleeve, and he could see them babbling excitedly. He didn’t linger, didn’t wait to see the disapproval or suspicion in the mother’s gaze—not that he would blame her for it. He was from a Fell ‘verse. He understood very well that strangers could be dangerous.  

Of course, his greatest injuries had always been inflicted by the people that knew him best.

The shop was just a few blocks from the bus stop, and he whistled as he walked. There was a rhythm to Surface life, just as there was a rhythm Underground, and Twist had always been a friendly skeleton. Or good at pretending to be one. He waved at the familiar faces he passed and called out greetings to a few. Most people offered him a nod or a casual wave in turn, but a handful smiled and greeted him by name.

As he arrived at the shop, he leaned on the counter, grinning at Mel. “Heya! How’s it goin’ this morning’?” He held back his usual ‘sweethearts’ and ‘darlings’, as Mel preferred.

They eyed him across the counter. “You’re late.” The bar pierced through their brow gave them a somewhat menacing appearance, not at all lessened by the muscling along their arms or the breadth of their shoulders. Twist knew better, though. They talked tough and they looked tough, but it was mostly camouflage. If Mel were a monster, they’d be Tale-verse through and through.

“Sorry. Rough night. An’ a rough mornin’. Not too late, am I?”

They relented a little, looking him over. “Everything okay?”

“Nuthin’ ya need ta worry ‘bout. Pers’nal shit. Don’ worry—I left it at home.” He winked, but the furrow between Mel’s brows remained.

“If you need to take a day—“

He waved off their concern. “Frankly, I’d rather be here, ‘way from it. Yer concern’s ‘ppreciated, though.”

They nodded, writing something down. “If you say so. The mustang’s here—bay four.” He grinned, and Mel’s mouth lost that hard edge. “You ready to look her over?”

“Hell yeah. Lemme suit up, ‘kay?”

He vaulted over the counter—ignoring Mel’s protest—and walked into the back to pull on a pair of coveralls. Tucking a rag into his pocket, he went to take a look at the mustang. He whistled when he saw the heap, running a hand over the side. “Damn, sweetheart—who fucked you up?”

“You talking to me or the car?” a voice asked behind him.

He turned, grinning at Jack. “The car. Don’ think you’d tell me who fucked you up.”

She snorted, arms crossed over her chest. Faded tattoos stretched over her forearms, the ink starting to blur. Her graying hair was cropped close to her scalp, and the glasses she wore did nothing to dimmish her intimidating aura. Jack didn’t need any of Mel’s camouflage; too many years as a conscripted war mage had left their mark. “Some idiot with more money than sense gave it to his son. The girlfriend had more sense than either of them, and she bought it off him cheap—after he thrashed it. Smart girl ditched the boy and kept the car.”

“Real smart,” Twist agreed. “Tell me I get ta work on her—she’s got good bones under the rust an’ the shitty paint.”

Jack came up alongside him, arms still crossed. “Better. I’m letting you take the lead on this, kid.”

Twist froze, staring at her with wide sockets. “Fer real?”

“Yeah. Think you can handle it?”

His grin grew broad. “‘Course I can. When d’ya need her?”

Jack waved him off. “No rush. Girl’s making payments on the repairs while she goes to college. You can treat it like a project car.”

“I do something ta earn this? Er do I owe ya?”

She gave him a strange look. “You work hard, and you do your job well. I’m more than happy to throw something fun your way, when I can.” Her mouth quirked a little as she eyed the shop, something wistful in her gaze. “If we could survive on restoration work alone….” She shook her head, as if clearing away a fantasy. “In the meantime, there’s a Subaru just pulled up that needs an oil change.” She huffed. “But don’t worry about that—Robbie’s got it.”

“Sounds good, chief.” He gave her a mock salute and turned his gaze back on the mustang, running an appreciative hand down the side. “I’ll give this lady a look and let you know what she needs.” She raised a hand in acknowledgment and walked away.

He grew increasingly involved in his work over the next few hours. It absorbed him completely and eased the lingering tension he’d been carrying. Blackberry had seemed disappointed when Twist announced he’d taken the job with Jack. Sometimes, he still pushed, asking if Twist wanted to take some classes at the local college or “explore other options”, whatever that meant. He seemed to think that Twist was settling, that he could do better.

He didn’t understand that Twist loved his job. Loved working with his hands. Loved that he only had to wipe oil off them, not dust. Loved taking things apart and putting them back together. Loved that he could put them back together. And this? Taking something that had fallen into disrepair by neglect or abuse and making it beautiful again?

He lived for that. No reason to consider why that might be.

No, he wasn’t settling for anything. He’d been proud of himself for the first time in years when he earned his first certificate in the detention center—a program Jack had spearheaded, with embassy support—and he’d been delighted when she offered him an apprenticeship in her shop when he got out. Besides, who else but a retired war mage would be comfortable having someone like him—someone with his LV, his history—working for them? No, Twist wasn’t settling—he was lucky. Damned lucky. More so because he actually liked to do the things she asked of him.

He swore quietly, pulling what was obviously a rat’s nest from inside the engine. He sighed and started checking wires more fastidiously.

“Hey, Twist?” Mel called.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look away from the engine block.

“Someone’s here for you.”

He furrowed his brow-bones. “Someone here fer…?” He shook his head and ducked out from under the hood. None of the others had mentioned they needed any work done. Blackberry would be the only one to drop by for lunch, but he certainly wouldn’t be doing that right now. “Anyone I know?” He wiped his hands on a rag as he crossed the garage.

Mel shrugged. “She just said she knows you from Underground.”

Twist nodded, smiling a little. While he’d definitely been feared rather than loved Underground, he’d maintained a reputation for keeping his word and dealing fairly. On the Surface, with allies thin on the ground, most Fell monsters would sooner seek someone they knew—if only by reputation—before seeking help from someone they didn’t. This wouldn’t be the first time a monster arrived at the shop asking for him, claiming to know him without really knowing him.

He stuffed the rag back in his pocket, satisfied his hands were clean enough, then followed Mel out to the front. “Heya, sweetheart, what c’n I—?”

The words froze in his mouth, and his soul started to beat hard and fast.

“Hello, dearie.”

He grabbed Mel’s arm, keeping them from approaching the Spider grinning at him from behind the counter. “Ow! Twist, what are you—?”

He pushed them behind his back, stepping in front of them like a shield. “Sorry, darlin’,” he said. It felt like his skull was detached from his body, like it was going to drift away at any moment. “Go on back ta yer office. I got this.” They rubbed their arm where he’d grabbed them, looking between Twist and Ella with narrowed eyes. “Go on,” Twist said again, and they reluctantly obeyed. He shut the door behind them.

His gaze fixed on Ella, and he stalked toward her. He leaned his elbow on the counter, lowering his skull so he could hold her gaze. “Ya know, darlin’, there ain’t much good I got ta say ‘bout you, but I wouldn’ ever ‘a said you were stupid. This here? This’s stupid.”

She touched a manicured hand to her chest. “Oh, my—is that how you speak to customers, dearie? I thought I taught you better than that. But then…I suppose it was your brother that worked the counter, wasn’t it?”

 “You don’ talk ‘bout my brother. Ever. Got me?”

She leaned against the counter, eyes wide and innocent. “Why no, dearie. I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She drew circles on the countertop with her foreclaw, the gesture almost flirtatious. “Did I do something to upset you?” Her mouth quirked in a soft smile. Still, he could see her fangs.

Magic dripped from his bad socket, trailing down his cheekbone and sliding along his mandible. “Ya know what ya did.”

“Oh, dearie. Your poor face.” She may as well have slapped him. Her hand cradling his newly cracked and broken skull, fingers pressing into the matrix of magic just barely holding him together. The smell of apples and spilt mana and the taste of—

She reached for him. He caught her wrist before she could act out the memory.

“Don’.” He swallowed, nearly shaking as he fought with himself not to snap her wrist. “Don’ you ever fuckin’ touch me.” His throat was tight, and his words came out in a growl.

“Twist.”

His mana lines went cold and his eyelight contracted. Ella widened her eyes in feigned surprise. “Oh!” she said, turning to the human in the doorway. “Please—I was just hoping to catch up with an old friend. I didn’t mean to offend!”

He let her go and backed away. “Jack,” he rasped, afraid to take his eyelight off Ella. “This ain’t…this ain’t what it looks like.”

Ella cradled her arm to her chest, and lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just wanted to see you. To apologize—“

He clenched his hands to hold himself back. “You ain’t ever apologized fer a thing in yer life. Yer tellin’ me ya started jus’ now?”

Ella raised a hand to her chest, as if wounded by his words. “Papyrus, how can you be so cruel?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Who was it taught me ta be cruel, huh?” He took a step forward. The tracker around his ankle buzzed, warning him his magic was too agitated, but he didn’t need magic for this. A wrench would do. Or he could put his bare hands around her throat and—

Something caught his soul. Not the comforting familiarity of blue magic. Something harsher, but still leashed—a rough touch, trying to be gentle.

“Twist. Enough.”

He didn’t look away from Ella. “Spiders’re territorial, Jack. She’ll retaliate, if ya in’erfere.” He touched his sternum., where her magic gripped his soul. “Can’t say I ‘preciate it neither.”

Ella smirked, eyes glittering, but she schooled her features when Jack spoke again, remembering their audience. “Mz…?”

“Ella’s fine, dearie.”

“Ella, then. If you’re in need of a body shop, Mel can give you a recommendation. Otherwise, I think it’s time you left.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to cause a disturbance. Goodbye, Papyrus. I’ll try again another day.” She waggled her fingers as she walked out the door.

He’d have lunged for her if not for the magic gripping his soul. He turned on Jack, furious with her for holding him back, only to catch sight of Mel, standing in her shadow.

Mel was no war mage. Their eyes were wide and frightened. A red welt in the shape of his skeletal hand wrapped their arm, forewarning of the bruise to come.

His soul roiled and he pressed a hand to his mouth, ready to vomit. “Shit,” he whispered, looking between them and the door. “Shit.” If Jack’s magic didn’t have such a tight hold on him, he’d have run for it.

“Twist,” Jack said, still standing protectively in front of Mel, “are you okay?”

He shook his head, trying not to laugh. Not because he thought it was funny, but because his LV wouldn’t allow him to cry. “Yer askin’—? I ain’t the one with bruises.”

Mel noticed the direction of his gaze and tucked their arm behind their back. “Who was that?” they asked, stepping out of Jack’s shadow. Or trying. Jack blocked them, still eyeing Twist warily.

Twist took a shuddering breath, looking at the door. “Lots ‘a things.” His voice was weak. He cleared it, and tried again. “She w’s…” Stars, what did he say? His boss? True enough, but it didn’t quite capture how his life had revolved around her every whim and shift in mood. His caretaker? He’d gone to work for her before he was out of stripes, but their relationship had shifted as he’d grown into adulthood. His ex? Even the insinuation that they’d been engaged in something as wholesome as dating made him want to retch.

He swallowed, looking between them as he tried to find the words. Mana dripped from his jawbone to the front of his coveralls. He wiped at it, but only managed to smear it. “Shit,” he finally said, “Sorry. Didn’ mean ta bring this ta yer door.” He dug his claws into his coronal suture. “Fuck! When she called me…shoulda known. Shoulda known she’d come here….” His claws dug in deeper and he breathed in the pain. “I’ll take care ‘a it. She ain’t after any ‘a you. She shouldn’ bother ya if i….”

His voice faded out as he realized that he had to leave if he didn’t want to drag them into his mess. His breathing shuddered. Not just for a day or two either. He’d have to cut ties until Ella was gone for good.

It felt like his soul was being flayed. She’d taken so much from him. Now this too?

“Twist.” He looked up, and Jack held his gaze. “Put your hand down.”

“Huh?”

“Your hand. Put it down.” Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from his skull, fresh mana on his fingertips. Jack nodded. “Good. Okay, I think you should go home.” He strangled the soft whine that threatened to escape him. He knew that was for the best, even if it wasn’t what he wanted. Raising a brow, Jack added, “Just for today.” She eyed the door, where Ella had gone. “You’re upset, and I think you need some time to calm down. We’ll sort this out when you’re in the headspace for it. I’m going to give the embassy a call and tell them what happened.”

His sockets squeezed shut, but he didn’t protest, forcing himself to nod instead. Undy—Scales would be happy to take her call. Happy to have a reason to send him back Underground. But, of course, he knew that was the right thing to do, didn’t he? He’d said so himself just this morning, and since then, he’d lost control again. He was slipping. It was time, whether he was ready or not. He could trust Scales to do what needed to be done, at least. Hell, it would be almost nice to have someone else make the decision for him.

Just because it was right didn’t mean it wasn’t hard, though. He opened his sockets and took a deep breath. “Right. Sounds good, chief. I’ll…I’ll grab my stuff.”

“Mel, would you mind dropping him off at his house? I’m not sure public transportation is a good idea right now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. No problem,” they said. Twist couldn’t even lift his gaze to look at them. He could feel his sins crawling on his back—he’d never needed a Judge’s eye on him for that.

“thanks,” he said, voice small. “sorry i…yer arm. didn’ mean ta. wasn’ thinkin’ straight. but…that ain’t no excuse fer it.”

Mel waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. You live out in Monstertown, right?” He nodded. “Cool. Jack, we have anything in need of a test drive?”

Jack shook her head. “Nah. Take your personal. You haven’t had lunch yet, right? There’s this great place out by the embassy….”

Twist slipped past them as they talked, going into the back to pull off the coveralls and to grab his backpack. He gave the mustang a long look. A lump caught in his throat. Sorry, girl, he almost said, Someone else’ll look after ya.

Robbie straightened, wiping the oil off her hands. “Twist? You okay, man?”

He forced a smile, though it felt weak. “Uh, yeah. Jus’…goin’ home early taday. Not feelin’ so hot.”

She nodded slowly. “Right. Well, hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks.” He waved, feeling as if his soul had been hollowed out. He returned to the counter, where Mel waited for him with keys in hand.

“You ready?” they asked. He nodded and they grinned. “Cool. Let’s head out then.” They grabbed a folder with taped sides off the counter and tucked it under their arm before leading him out behind the shop. Their car was a sensible little thing. Nothing flashy or eye-catching, except for a couple decals on the bumper. Inside, they passed the folder to him and pulled out of the lot.

Their fingers drummed on the steering wheel as they drove, the radio turned down low. Twist looked out the window, wondering when Scales would call him in. She’d let him say goodbye to his brother, wouldn’t she? He thought she would. She wasn’t a cruel Judge. So, probably not until after Blackberry’s heat was—

“Uh, Twist?”

He cleared his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“So…that folder….” Their fingers continued to drum on the wheel. “That’s for you. It’s…it’s something that might help you out.” He cocked a brow-bone, peering inside. Domestic Abuse Hotline was written at the top of the first brochure he saw. “Look,” Mel continued, “Maybe I’m reading things wrong, but that woman….” They shook their head. “She reminded me of my ex.” They swallowed. “She was really controlling. Sometimes…violent.” His gaze shifted to the bruises forming on their arm, and his soul clenched again. “I eventually left—which was hard enough—but she.…” Their throat flexed as they swallowed. “She wasn’t ready to let me go.”

They took a long breath. They kept their attention on the road, but they shot him a quick look. “I guess what I’m saying is…you’re not the only one that’s had stuff like this happen to them.” Their mouth quirked in a rueful smile. “There’s not as many resources for people like us—masc-presenting people, I mean—but…they’re there. They can help. I just…I just wanted you to know you’re not alone, okay?”

His throat was tight as his gaze lingered on their arm. Why did he always hurt the people who were just trying their best to help him? “Thanks,” he said, voice rough. “‘Ppreciate it.” He waited a beat. “Do ya jus’ carry this stuff ‘round with ya?” He held up the folder.

They smiled a little. It wasn’t a happy smile. “Yeah. I do. I’m involved with some of those groups. Helping people that were in the same situation I was in. Part of that is reaching out when I think someone needs a hand.”

He nodded, looking down at the folder but not opening it. Thankfully, the next street took them into Monstertown, and Mel needed directions after that. Easier to tell them where to turn than to talk about Ella, or the folder, or why it wouldn’t help him.

“This’s me,” he said, pointing to the house. Cash’s car wasn’t in the driveway, so he’d probably have the house to himself for a little while at least. He wasn’t sure if he was glad of that or if he’d have liked the distraction.

“See you tomorrow!” Mel said, waving as he walked up the drive. He waved goodbye, though he doubted he’d be back at work.

Inside, he stood in the doorway, not sure what to do with himself. The detritus of his last LV attack still littered the floor. He should clean that up, at least. And get a new microwave. If he was going back Underground, he should try to finish off some of the projects he’d started around the house too. Above-ground planters for Berry. Replacing the faucet in Cash’s bathroom. Maybe sorting his stuff so Berry wouldn’t have to deal with that when he was gone.

His soul sat heavy in his chest. Despite himself, despite the long list of things he should do, he couldn’t bring himself to start on any of them. Instead, he let his hoodie and his backpack slip to the floor. He added, ‘pick up his shit’ to the list and pulled the ladder down so he could get up to his room. He didn’t want to be in the living room when Cash came home, or he’d have flopped onto the couch instead.

His room was dark and cluttered. The attic window didn’t let in much light, and he still hadn’t unpacked completely. He never would, now. He toed off his boots and flopped backwards onto the mattress, letting the folder drop to the ground without another look. The ceiling beams were exposed and unfinished. He’d had plans to sand them down and stain them. Give the room a rustic feel—accentuate the charm and character, without denying what it was.

No point now. It could just be a storage room. Berry and Cash might appreciate the extra space. He swallowed, clutching his wrist in one hand. He traced his finger over his carpals, staring up at the ceiling.

What if…?

What if Scales sent him back, but didn’t do anything about Ella?

His hand squeezed, grinding the carpals together. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. But if she did….

He couldn’t leave them here like flies in her web. His fingers flexed. He could try to bargain with Boris, but if Scales was going to send him off, he didn’t have anything to bargain with. Or….

His hand tightened. He didn’t have to go back. He didn’t have to let Scales or his LV dictate his destiny. He could settle this himself. Berry and Cash and Slim and everyone would be safe. Safe from her. Safe from him. They’d hate him for it, but maybe that would be better too. Easier. Cleaner.

His claws dug into the cartilage between his carpals. It wouldn’t be hard. The opposite, in fact. His socket felt damp as fresh mana bled between the cracks.

He’d need information. She knew how to find him, but now, he’d need to find her. Maybe he could find the bastard that sold his info to her and see what they knew; she couldn’t have found his phone number just by following him. He swallowed.

He could do it. He should do it. He was responsible for bringing Ella into their lives in the first place. And she was at least partly responsible for his LV. It would be an appropriate end for both of them.

He sat up to clear the mana from his socket and to calm his breathing. He could. He should. He had to—

Something heavy and flailing and stinking of vinegar dropped on top of him.

Chapter Text

Edge looked down at his phone, mouth dry. His initial panic on getting Rus’ message had since transformed into something subtler and more insidious: dread. It permeated his very soul, twisting it, and weighed down his limbs, anchoring him in place. He didn’t want to return to the bedroom, didn’t want to resume their discussion, though they hadn’t really even started it.

“edge?”

Rus stood in the doorway, his robe open over his ribcage. His soul hadn’t manifested. Yet.

Edge swallowed and tucked his phone away. “Do you need anything? Water? Ice? Tea—?”

“just you.”

The words, said with a small smile meant to reassure, only caused his soul to drop, doubling his dread. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t know how. Rus needed more—better—than what Edge could provide. But Edge would give him all he had, and when his best proved insufficient….

Well. He was braced for that. He lifted his chin and followed Rus into the bedroom. Without thinking about it, Edge closed the blinds and pulled the drapes shut, blocking out any prying eyes. Rus sat on the bed, watching him. He touched the space beside him. “why don’t you come sit next to me? i want to talk before i start getting…distracted.” Rus’ phone, on the nightstand, buzzed. But neither of them so much as glanced at it.

Edge’s soul lurched, but he nodded. “Of course.” Rus took his hand as soon as he sat down, lacing their fingers together.

“okay.” Rus looked down at their hands. “sorry. i know you’re nervous—“ Edge bit down on an instinctive denial. “—and…i wanted to try to have this discussion before…you know. but, uh…” He smiled ruefully. “you see how that turned out. looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

“Is there any other?”

Rus snorted and squeezed his hand. “at least it’s never boring.”

Edge swallowed, throat tight. “I think I’ve had quite enough excitement, thanks.”

“yeah. i think so too.” Rus swept his thumb over the back of his hand, nodding. “okay, here’s the thing—if you aren’t ready for this, then i can…call up a friend or something—”

His hand tightened around Rus’. “A friend?” Despite his nerves, the thought of someone else staying with Rus during his heat was infinitely worse.

“easy, precious. not like that. ‘dyne would probably let me stay on her couch. there would be no canoodling.” He said this with a smirk, echoing his brother’s and Papyrus’ speech patterns. “she’d just be there to make sure i didn’t dehydrate or something.” Edge didn’t look at him, instead staring at the wall with uncomfortable intensity. “it’s…i’m trying to say it’s okay if you’re not ready for this. we can—“

Edge’s grip tightened. “I’m not letting anyone else near you right now,” he growled.

Rus blinked, then snorted. “o-kay—“

“I’m serious! Your soul is—it’s going to be out! For anyone to see or to grab or—“

“edge, no one’s going to grab my soul.” He took Edge’s other hand, causing him to turn and face Rus. “‘dyne—or doc, whatever—wouldn’t do anything to me. neither would any other friend i asked.” He smiled a little. “it’s not like i would ask just anyone to help with this.”

Still, Edge didn’t loosen his grip. Rus might trust them, but Edge didn’t. “I’m not leaving you,” he said, voice firm despite his misgivings.

Rus sighed. “okay, i’m going to pretend that sentiment wasn’t motived by your massive trust issues—” Edge’s jaw twitched. “—and move on. so, let’s start with something easy. here’s what i need from you while i’m in heat; make sure i drink water, stick me under a shower head to clean me off occasionally, and stay close.” He smiled a little. “cuddling is preferred, but if you want a little space, putting your hand here—” He touched the top of his head. “—here—” He touched his chest, over his sternum. “—or here—” He touched his jaw. “—should help a lot.”

Edge blinked. “I was led to believe that this would be more…involved.”

Rus smirked. “it can be. i’d like it to be, but we’ll get to that in a second. that list? that’s the stuff i need. it’s…it’s non-negotiable. if any of that is going to be too much, then…sorry, but i have to call up doc.” He squeezed Edge’s hands. “which is fine. i wouldn’t hold it against you—”

His sockets narrowed. “I think I can manage cuddling with my boyfriend for a week.”

Rus’ mouth quirked, and Edge could hear the laughter in his voice as he said, “good. glad to hear it.” The laughter faded and his smile lost some of the humor. “and if that’s all we do…that’s okay. especially for the first time.”

Edge’s soul squeezed. “But what would you want? If I….” Were better? Less broken? “…if I could give you more than just the bare minimum.”

“hey.” Rus caught his face between his hands, forcing Edge to look at him. “that would be enough. i don’t want you to think it’s not or to think i need more or-or anything like that. just being here with me? that’s enough. that’s all I really need from you. Anything more is just a bonus.”

Edge’s sockets shut and he laid his hand overtop Rus’, pulling it away from his face. He folded his hands around it, aware of the heat building in Rus’ bones. “And if I want to do more than that…?”

Rus smiled a little. “everything we normally do would be on the table for me. you’ll have to give me a clear ‘stop’ if you don’t want me to do something or even if you need me to slow down.” His smile turned rueful. “i’m not…i wouldn’t ever want to hurt you, but i won’t be able to pick up on body language like i usually would, so be clear if i cross a line. okay?”

“I…. Yes. I can do that.”                                           

Rus looked down at their hands. “i…” A flush of orange colored his cheekbones. “there is something else.” He swallowed and touched his sternum. “we haven’t done any…soul-play before. but it’s something i really enjoy, especially during heat—“

“You’ve allowed someone else to handle your soul?”

“you haven’t?” Edge shook his head, and Rus’ eyelights dilated. He swallowed and nodded his head. “oh. okay. well.” He swallowed again. “that’s…just fine.” He squeezed Edge’s hand. “so. um. i…i don’t expect you to reciprocate, but…would you want to handle mine?”

Edge’s mouth was dry. “I….” He didn’t know how to answer. “What would I do with it?”

The flush over Rus’ cheekbones darkened and spread. “i…would. help. with that. but, uh, maybe…since you’re not sure…i…” He cleared his throat, freeing one hand to rub his sternum. “i won’t hand it off to you. you can take it if you want it, but i won’t…. i won’t give it to you unless you ask for it.” He cleared his throat. “do you think you would mind….” His fingers flexed. “would you mind if i…touched it myself? while you watched?”

Edge blinked. “If that’s something you would enjoy. I…don’t think that will be a problem for me.”

Rus’ eyelights darted away. “but do you think you would enjoy it too? watching?”

“Rus, I’ve never even thought about soul-play before.” Not as a source of pleasure, at least. A threat? Most definitely. A power play? Of course. But as an act of love or affection? Never. “I…I have no idea what I’d like.” If anything. “I see no harm in watching you, so I’m willing to…experiment with that.” He took a breath. “And I would like to see what you enjoy, so if I do decide to…participate, I’ll have some idea what to do with it.”

Rus’ eyelights flared bright, and his fingers clenched closed, tucked to his chest. “shit,” he muttered, shoulders curling inward.

“Rus?!”

“‘m find. don’t worry. just…hard to have this conversation right now.”

“Oh.” Edge’s hands lifted, but he hesitated to touch him. “Are you in pain? Is there something I can do?”

Rus snorted, straightening. He caught Edge’s hand and turned it over, so he could kiss his wrist. Mana was beginning to gather at the nodes along his joints and the back of his neck. His bones were hot against Edge’s. Feverish. “no pain,” he murmured, lifting his gaze to catch Edge’s eyelights, “but if you need to leave, now’s the time to do it. ‘dyne will—“

“I told you, I’m not leaving you.” He settled his hand on Rus’ knee, the gesture both comforting…and possessive. Rus’ back bowed a little, and he slid Edge’s hand along his jaw. His breath ghosted over Edge’s wrist, so hot it nearly burned. Edge curled his fingers, trailing the backs of his claws over Rus’ cheekbone.

“good.”

With that, Rus pulled him forward, into an embrace. He scented along Edge’s neck, arms wrapped around his waist. A small shudder rocked him, and he buried his face in Edge’s throat. “sorry,” he murmured, “i’m officially ‘distracted’.”

Edge was stiff in his arms. “Your soul…?” His own soul was beating hard, and he could hear the rush of mana through his skull.

“not yet. soon, though. you okay so far?”

“Me?” Edge had to bite down on an unhappy laugh. “I should be asking you that.”

Rus pulled back a little, just enough to catch and hold Edge’s eyelight. “i’m not the one tense enough to support a bridge.” His hands settled around Edge’s hips, squeezing. “you really don’t have to do this, precious.”

“You keep saying that. Do you…” His soul ached. “Would you rather spend it with someone else?”

Rus snorted. “stars, no. you know what i want?” He nosed along Edge’s jaw, and the tips of his phalanges slipped under Edge’s shirt to touch the top of his hip bones. Edge’s cervical spine prickled. “i want you to stay with me. i want you relaxed and content and ready to let me show you a good time.” He planted a kiss on the underside of Edge’s jaw, while Edge’s hands splayed over his chest, fingers curling. Rus’ bones, now limned with orange mana, were hot through the fabric of his robe. “i want you to hold my soul in your hands and see for yourself how much i love you.” His soul dipped, and the prickling spread all the way down to his lumbar spine. “i want you, precious. you and everything you’re willing to give me.”

Rus pulled back. His fingers retreated, settling respectfully on the outside of Edge’s clothes. “but more importantly? i don’t want to hurt you. not for anything. i know this…this isn’t something you asked for or expected. maybe….” He swallowed, smiling sadly. “maybe this just isn’t something you’ll ever want. and that’s okay, edge. i respect you. i love you. and that means respecting your boundaries, even if mine aren’t the same.” He tilted his head forward, pressing their foreheads together. One hand landed on the nape of Edge’s neck while the other cradled his jaw, holding him without trapping him.

“i’m going to be fine, edgelord. it’s not my first rodeo.” Rus’ thumb traced a line down Edge’s cheekbone, where tears would fall if his LV allowed for them. “you’re the one i’m worried about. so, if you need to leave—“

“Shut up.” Edge’s voice was little more than a whispered rasp. His hands slid around Rus’ back, He hooked his elbows, gripping Rus’ shoulders with the opposite hands. He held so tight their bones creaked. “i love you.” It was the first time he’d said it—naked and unaltered by affectionate insult. “i don’t know how to do any of this, but—“

“we’ll figure it out together, edgelord. don’t worry.”

Edge’s chest shuddered. ‘Worry’ was just about all he did. Even now, a thousand little whispers and what-ifs wound his soul into knots. But he didn’t let go. They clung together, foreheads pressed and arms folded around each other. “I’m not leaving,” he said again.

“i’m glad,” Rus said. Heat spread across his chest, and a warm orange glow shone bright from behind his rib-bones.

His soul.

Edge’s breath hitched, but Rus just dipped his skull to rest his chin on Edge’s shoulder. “‘s okay, precious. i’m still with you. it’s still me. i’ve got you.”

Steadying his breathing, Edge asked, “What do you need?” This would be easier if he could do something.

“right now? just this. i’ll make a nest for you in a bit.”

“A. Nest.” For—him?

Rus nodded on a sigh, melting into Edge. A soft purr started in his chest. “i’ll show you. you’ll like it. promise. it’s gonna be good.”

Edge took a deep breath, folding around Rus as he exhaled. He tucked his face into Rus’ neck, mirroring his pose. “Okay,” he said, “I trust you.”

Rus’ purring grew louder.

-

The ‘nest’ proved to be more important than Rus let on. It was, apparently, where they’d be spending most of the week while Rus was in heat, and it was composed of nearly every soft surface in the house. Bedsheets, quilts, blankets, pillows, old hoodies, and one of Edge’s scarves—all of it was piled on the bed and arranged to Rus’ satisfaction. If he could have worked the couch cushions into it, he probably would have used them as well.

And, while Rus allowed him to help, it quickly became obvious that Edge was not privy to whatever standards Rus was using to construct the nest. Edge would slot a pillow into place, and Rus would immediately “fix” it. He didn’t seem annoyed, though—to the contrary, he didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing it. So, Edge quickly gave up on that and decided his energies would be better spent elsewhere.

Rus had already mentioned dehydration would be a concern, so he gathered some water bottles and a few sports drinks, knowing Rus would be more inclined to drink something sugary. He boiled water as well, putting it in an insulated carafe for later use.

“can you bring snacks?” Rus called down from the bedroom.

“Of course!”

He stacked the drinks, tea bags, and mugs on a tray, then added pretzels and trail mix and apples to the pile. Remembering Rus’ sweet-tooth, he added a handful of candy as well. He surveyed the kitchen, wondering if there was anything else Rus might want.

“are you coming?”

“Just a minute!”

He went over to the bookshelf and got a deck of cards, the book he was currently reading, and a few of Rus’ magazines. With a glance at the stairs, he knelt down and fished under the bookcase to grab the bodice-ripper Rus was in the middle of too.

“edge!”

“I’m coming! Just grabbing some reading material.”

Rus met him at the top of the stairs, and Edge faltered for a moment. He’d taken off his robe and put on sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Every bone was flushed faintly with mana, and the nodes at his joints glimmered. The vibrant orange soul floating behind the cage of his ribs is what caught Edge’s attention, though. Mana slicked its surface, like a mirror glazed cake. It was bright and vibrant. Undimmed. Unscarred. Beautiful.

Inviting.

Rus caught the direction of his gaze, and a slow smile spread across his face. His hips tilted just so, and he hooked his thumb through the waistband of his sweatpants. “see something you like?”

Edge flushed and forced himself to look away, swallowing back the magic that had started to collect in his mouth. He held the tray in front of him like a shield. “Here. Snacks.”

Rus blinked and the grin transformed, losing its lasciviousness. “aw, babe, you’re the best.” He snatched the tray from him and darted back into the bedroom. Edge shook his head, smiling faintly as he followed him inside.

The bed had been fully transformed into a nest now. Chaotic, but undeniably cozy looking. Edge stood at the foot of the nest, trying to figure out how to climb in without disturbing Rus’ work. A hand settled on his lower back. He turned and Rus smiled at him, holding out a pair of pajama bottoms. “wanna change into something more comfortable, edgelord?”

Rolling his eyelights, Edge snatched the pants from him. “I’m not putting on a show for you.” Nevertheless, he unbuckled his belt and drew down the zipper.

“didn’t ask you to.” But Rus’ gaze was on his sacrum. He nudged the waistband down, and his pants fell to the ground, belt buckle jingling. Rus swore softly, backing up to give Edge space to slip on the pajama bottoms. As soon as he was covered, Rus’ hands were on his hips again, his face buried in the space between Edge’s neck and shoulder. “damn…have i ever told you how good you smell?”

What.

Edge coughed. “Not. Not that I can recall.”

“i should,” he murmured, inhaling deeply. His chest was pressed against Edge’s back, and Edge could feel the heat pouring off him. “’cause you do. smell really, really good.”

“I….” Stars, what did one even say to that? “Thank…you?”

He felt Rus smile against his cervical vertebrae. “sorry. heat-brain.”

“So, normally I stink?”

Rus laughed, wrapping his arms around him. “never. usually i’m just too polite to tell you how delicious you smell.”

“Delicious?” Edge snorted. “Are you planning on eating me?”

Rus’ arms tightened around him. A low, deep thrumming started in his chest, and Edge was reminded of the innuendo in his words. Rus mouthed at his cervical vertebrae, planting open-mouthed kisses along his neck. With effort, he pulled back, putting distance between them. “tempting, but i’ll wait for a clearer invitation for, heh, ‘dessert.”

Some of the tension Edge didn’t realize he’d been carrying drained from his bones as Rus retreated. “I didn’t mean to tease—“

Rus squeezed his hipbones. “you’re not. a stray wind would tease right now.” He exhaled shakily, and Edge turned in his grip. Rus’ sockets were squeezed shut and his mouth was drawn tight.

“You’re hurt.”

Rus cracked his sockets open. “it’s not….” He winced. “i’m fine. just…uncomfortable.” He looked past Edge’s shoulder to the bed. “will you lay down with me?”

Edge nodded but made no move to climb into the nest. “You first.”

Still looking pained, Rus clambered into the bedding, but Edge didn’t join him immediately. He shut the bedroom door, feeling more secure with it closed. Pausing at the end of the bed, he looked at Rus curled amidst the blankets. “…edge?”

He swallowed, then started to climb in beside him. “I’m just…thinking.” He knelt in front of Rus, taking his hand. “You laid out your needs and your limitations before this started. And you said you wanted to respect my boundaries…but I haven’t made those clear, have I?”

Rus flinched, trying to pull his hand back, but Edge held tight. “sorry,” he whispered, “i…i didn’t mean to cross a line—”

“You didn’t. You haven’t.” He clasped Rus’ hand between both of his, spearing him with a look. “But I think we would both be more at ease if we knew what to expect of each other, don’t you?” Rus’ eyelights darted from his face to their clasped hands. He nodded. “Good. Unless I specifically ask you to, I don’t want you to kiss me—on the mouth or elsewhere. I want to be close to you, but…I’m not ready for more than that. Not yet. Is that fair?”

Rus nodded slowly. “i can do that.”

“Good. Because it’s far too easy to get carried away when you start that.”

“…does that mean i’m a good kisser?”

Edge pushed him down amidst the blankets. “It means you’re difficult to say no to.”

Rus snorted. “you say ‘no’ to me all the time!”

“Mm-hmm. I have an immense amount of will-power.”

He cracked a smile. “you say ‘will-power’; i say ‘stubborn’.”

“There’s a difference?” He looked down at Rus, keeping one hand on his ribcage. Directly over his soul. Despite what he’d said earlier, he could imagine touching it now. Everything about it, from the gloss of its surface to the faint sweet smell of Rus’ magic was temptation itself. But the plush, unscarred surface also made Edge all too aware of the claws that capped his phalanges. He’d never forgive himself if he was the one to mark Rus’ sweet, shining soul.

So he kept his hand safely on the outside of Rus’ ribcage. He pushed down his lingering anxieties and focused on the affection and the love he felt for the monster below him, slowly amplifying and projecting them. Rus groaned. His skull lolled back, and he gripped Edge’s wrist. “edge.” He said his name like a prayer.

“Shhh.” Edge parred back the lingering feelings of desire, not wanting to tease. Comfort. Safety. Affection. Love. He suffused his aura with these feelings. As a low-HP monster, Rus was already vulnerable to such projections, but with his soul out and unguarded, he had no defense against them.

Rus began to purr, so loudly his bones rattled with it. His sockets shut, and he relaxed into the nest. His hold on Edge’s wrist was light, now—merely touching, not gripping. Edge settled on top of him, sitting across his thighs. He brought his other hand to Rus’ chest, then slid his palms over his ribcage. Rus’ hand fell away, only to settle on Edge’s knee instead. Edge brought mana to his fingertips, infusing it with the Intent to soothe and relax.

With his LV, his experience, it was easy to forget that his magic did not have to harm, even if he could not heal.

He brought his hands to Rus’ wrists first, rolling the bones between his fingers. He pushed soothing mana on the agitated nodes, now hot and swollen as Rus’ heat deepened. Rus groaned, fingers curling and back arching.

Edge paused. “Is that good? Or—?”

“’s good,” Rus slurred, cracking open his sockets. “really. really good.”

Edge’s brow-bone arched. “Too good?”

Rus’ mouth pulled upward in a wry smile, but he shut his sockets and gave a faint head shake. “no. maybe if you weren’t projecting, but it’s not like that. not right now.”

Edge nodded and resumed the massage. His fingers skated up Rus’ forearms, sliding between the ulna and radius, before cupping his elbows. He pressed his thumb into the inner joint, while working the bones with his fingers. Rus sighed, toes curling. “Do these nodes hurt?”

“they’re just…sensitive. feels good when you touch them like that. they ache a little, when you’re not touching me.” Nodding, Edge gave the joints a final squeeze, before moving up to his humerus. “gonna tickle my funny bone?” Rus asked. Edge sighed and ignored him—focused, instead, on massaging the bone. “do you get it? ‘cause it’s—”

“Humorous. Yes, Rus. I get it.”

He snickered, apparently more amused by Edge’s deadpan reply than the ‘joke’ itself. A small smile pulled at Edge’s mouth, and he couldn’t resist taking Rus’ hand and kissing the palm. Rus inhaled, and Edge looked at him, brow-bone quirked. He smoothed his thumb over the spot he’d just kissed, before releasing Rus’ hand. “What? You’re not going to cry ‘no fair’?”

Rus smoothed his hand over Edge’s knee. “you can kiss me anytime, anywhere, precious. but if you kiss me on the mouth, i’m going to assume that’s an invitation to kiss you back.”

Edge nodded, working his way up Rus’ humerus again. “That’s a fair assumption.” He held Rus’ gaze, hands going still. “I’ll remember that.” Rus shut his sockets, tilting his head back as Edge pushed his arms up, exposing the node positioned just under his shoulder. He pressed his thumb into the node while he worked Rus’ shoulder joint with his fingers. All the while, he projected safety, comfort, care, and love.

 Rus’ purring briefly stuttered, but came back louder only a moment later. “fuck, that feels so nice.” He looked at Edge, eyelights bright. “i’ve….” He laughed a little. “sorry. this is a weird thing to say. but.” He looked up at the ceiling, apparently finding that easier. “i don’t think anyone has ever touched me like this before. especially not during heat. it’s….” He shuddered a little, squeezing his sockets shut. “it’s really good.”

Edge tilted his head down, touching his mouth to Rus’ sternum. Directly over his soul. Beads of mana had gathered on the surface, and a haze of spent magic clouded Rus’ chest cavity as the beads evaporated. Edge smoothed one hand over Rus’ chest, as if he could touch his soul by proxy. “I’m glad this is…enough. For now.”

“no, edge, it’s—” Rus sat up half-way, leaning on his elbows. “it’s not just ‘enough’. it’s…it’s good. really good. it’s better than…than what i thought i wanted.”

Edge’s throat felt tight again, and his soul warmed. He swallowed past the knot and pushed Rus back into the bedding. “I’m glad, but we’re not done yet.”

Fingertips flushed with magic, Edge drew them down from Rus’ shoulders and trailed them across his chest. His projections had grown stronger, now infused with relief and gratitude and all the things he was having trouble putting into words. At Rus’ sternum, he dragged a knuckle up each side, pressing into each sternocostal joint. At the peak of the sternum, he traced the broad manubrium, putting pressure where it joined the clavicles. The haze of spent mana had grown thicker, and Edge could smell the cotton-candy sweetness of Rus’ mana.

Magic gathered in his mouth at the thought of licking the mana from the surface of Rus’ soul.

The unbidden, mostly unwanted thought caused him to freeze. He stopped projecting while he tried to get his feelings back in order. “edge?”

He cleared his throat and shook the thought away. Moving his hands over Rus’ clavicles, he resumed his projections. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.” Before Rus could push for more information, he settled one hand on his cervical vertebrae. He put no pressure in his grip, only allowed the weight of his hand to be felt. Rus shuddered, and his hands—still pushed up past his skull—flexed. Edge ran his thumb up and down the column of Rus’ throat, while his fingers curled into the back of his vertebrae. Rus’ head tilted back, giving him better access.

"Stars, you’re beautiful.”

Normally, Rus would try to redirect such compliments with humor, but now, he just took a shuddering breath. Edge brought his other hand to his neck, tracing up the sides of Rus’ throat. He cupped his mandible between his hands. His fingers pressed into the spot where his skull joined his body, and his thumbs traced over his jaw. Rus’ hands came down, landing on Edge’s knees. Rus squeezed the joints as he took a deep breath, shuddering. “edge.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“Almost done.”

Rus nodded, and Edge pressed his thumbs into the nodes tucked into the rear of his jaw. He finished by cupping Rus’ face between his hands and kissing his forehead. Rus shuddered again, and Edge saw there were tears trailing from his sockets. He blinked. “Rus? Did I—?”

Rus’ arms snaked around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “i love you,” he whispered, “i love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Easier, now, to say those words. “Come here.” He guided them both down into the nest, trying to arrange them into a somewhat comfortable position. Rus’ head was tucked against his shoulder, and their legs were a tangle. Rus’ arms were tight around his chest, and Edge could feel the heat in his bones, the heat emanating from his soul. He ran a soothing hand down Rus’ spine, and projected softly.

Safety. Comfort. Affection.

Love.

Chapter Text

For a moment, Twist couldn’t parse the flailing jumble of bone and cloth that landed on top of him. Then, someone said, “twist!” and he was able to make sense of the details. Slim’s face was burrowed into Cash’s chest, hands clenched tight around the loose fabric of his jacket. Cash was holding onto Slim like his life—their lives—depended on it, one hand cupping the back of his skull and the other wrapped around his waist. His features were set and stony, like he’d murder anyone that so much as looked at them for too long. “what are you doing here?” Cash snapped.

Twist blinked. “ ’S my room, sweetheart.”

Something in Cash’s features shifted, but before Twist could try to make sense of his reaction, Slim’s head popped up. He reached out, snatching hold of Twist’s arm. Cash’s face went carefully blank, and he loosened his grip on Slim, apparently ready for him to crawl out of his embrace and into Twist’s. Instead, Slim used his hold on Twist’s arm to pull him in and join the pair in their embrace. Slim still straddled Cash’s hips, one hand gripping Cash’s jacket like a lifeline; the other arm wrapped around Twist’s ribcage, drawing him close enough to press his forehead to Twist’s clavicle.

Twist and Cash exchanged a look. Then Cash tightened his hold on Slim’s waist once more, while Twist wrapped one arm around Slim. The other settled around Cash’s shoulders, holding him loosely. It earned him a subtle shiver that Twist wasn’t sure how to read.

“Alright,” he said, surveying both of them, “What happened? An’ why d’ya smell like ya fell in a vat ‘a vinegar?” A light flush colored the good side of Cash’s face, while Slim whimpered quietly and gripped him tighter. Twist raised a brow-bone. “Patches?” Cash swallowed, throat clicking as he looked away. Twist looked down at Slim. “Darlin’?”

Slim took a shaky breath, then he grabbed Twist’s hand and raised it to his chest. He slipped it under his jacket, until there was only a thin layer of cotton between Twist’s hand and Slim’s ribcage. Twist could feel the heat pouring off his bones, and the aura of need radiating from his soul. He inhaled sharply as he drew his hand away. “Yer—? An’—Patches? You—?” Cash looked away, but Twist could see the mana gathering at his joints, making the sensitive nodes glow bright. He shared a look with Slim, who confirmed his suspicions with a nod. “Oh. Okay. Okay.” Not sure what else to do, he pulled them in closer, hugging them tight. “’s gonna be alright, yeah? We’ll make sure you two’re taken care of.”

He hadn’t really considered the effect a hug like that might have on a monster in heat.

Slim burrowed in close, arm slipping around Twist’s waist as he pressed his cheek to Twist’s chest. A shudder racked Cash, rippling down his bones in a wave. A muted, “fuck,” escaped him, and another shiver rattled his bones. Twist instinctively released him, but Cash’s hand shot out, grabbing hold of his hoodie and keeping him in place. He didn’t burrow in, though. Instead, he pinned Twist with a look, eyelight blazing bright. He tugged hard on Twist’s jacket, until Twist’s hand settled firmly on the back of his neck. Cash shuddered again, the mana at his nodes glimmering. His socket slid shut, and he arched the back of his neck into the touch, fingers still clenched tight around Twist’s hoodie.

Twist swallowed, schooling his features into a cheerful mask even as his soul started to beat hard and fast. He was not prepared for this. Even after Papyrus’ talk, he’d assumed that heat was just about sex. But the way Slim burrowed into his side, the way Cash pressed into his hand—those things weren’t sexual. Not exclusively, at least. There was more going on here, and the / need / need / NEED / pouring off of them projected more than just sexual desire. His own soul fluttered, wanting to fill that need in whatever way he could, but his body was paralyzed.

He. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He wanted them both so badly but—

He had every reason to expect he’d be sent back Underground soon—or worse. Not to mention the long shadow Muffet cast over his life. It wouldn’t be fair to drag them down with him. He should take a step back, facilitate the relationship budding between the two monsters he loved dearly, and step aside. It would be best for them and best for him. It would already break his heart to let them go; he feared it would shatter if he allowed himself to draw any closer, no matter how much he wanted to.

He shut his sockets, holding both of them tight for just another moment, allowing himself a small indulgence.

Then he pulled back and said, “Right. Okay. I’m guessin’ ya wanna stay tagether, right? Right, right—‘course ya do.” He smiled faintly at the indignant look they’d shot him, as if separating hadn’t even crossed their minds. “Ya wan’ me ta call someone fer ya? Yer gonna need someone with their head on straight to look out fer ya.”

Cash lifted his head just enough to blink blearily at Twist. “what the fuck are you talking about?” he asked.

“you,” Slim said into the fabric of Twist’s jacket, still clinging tightly.

Twist hesitated. Did he trust himself with even that much? Stars, his face was still caked with dried mana from this morning. He’d had to fight down his LV twice in less than twenty four hours—was it even safe, to keep them here?

He scratched at his cracked socket. “Said someone with their head on straight, sweetheart. Think ‘m disqualified.” He smiled weakly, trying to turn it into a joke, but no one was laughing. Slim just shook his head, his grip tightening. Cash’s socket narrowed and his mouth twisted into a sneer. Twist cleared his throat. “Red…Red’d take good care ‘a ya. Both ‘a ya. You two c’n hole up tagether, an’ he’ll—he’ll make sure ya get water an’ food an’…an’ whatever else ya need.”

Cash’s expression didn’t change, and Slim didn’t withdraw. “please,” Slim said, his voice barely audible. He freed one hand to shape the word. ‘please.’

“I…darlin’, I can’t. I—“ His throat was tight. Every ounce of good sense he possessed insisted he refuse, but…he couldn’t say no to Slim. Besides, Slim might trust Red, but Cash certainly didn’t.  And he couldn’t deny his own selfish need to be close to them, to take care of them as best he could, even if he suspected that he’d only be hurting them in the long run. Selfish it may be, but he simply didn’t have the strength or the willpower to protest further.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t try to maintain some distance and preserve his heart as much as possible. “Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll be yer minder. Make sure yer both getting’ food an’ water. Stayin’ clean.” Until Scales hauled him away, at least. “But if…if I gotta, ‘m callin’ in help, ya un’erstand?”

Cash gave a clipped nod. “fine.”

“Right. So. First order ‘a business? Shower. You two reek. Still haven’t told me what the fuck ya did.”

Slim looked up at him, grinning. “we got fish and chips. down by the docks.” Twist cocked his head, still not understanding. Then Slim added, “cash got a bottle of malt vinegar to go.”

He snorted. “Right. An’ everyone gives me shit fer the horseradish. Welp. C’mon. Ya ain’t staying in my bed, smellin’ like that.” He hauled them both upright, ushering them to the drop-down ladder. “While you two get cleaned up, I’ll get the room set up fer ya—”

Slim seemed happy enough to let him guide him downstairs, but Cash resisted. “i wasn’t aiming for your bedroom on purpose. i have my own room. we can stay there.”

“Yeah? What were ya aimin’ for then, darlin’?”

Cash’s mouth snapped shut, and his jaw popped. Twist raised a brow-bone, waiting, but Cash just turned on his heel and started down the ladder. With a sigh, Twist rubbed the back of his neck before hopping down behind them—ignoring the ladder entirely. “Look, sweetheart, I’d rather have ya upstairs, if it’s all the same ta you.” Both Slim and Cash eyed him then. He sighed, then slung an arm over each of their shoulders as he led them to the bathroom. “Ella’s been skulking ‘round. Attic’s the best place fer ya—‘s more defensible than any other room in the house. Only got one window—on the second floor, no less—and the ladder’s easy ‘nough ta block off if ya need ta barricade yerself inside.”

They were Fell, but nevertheless, both paused to stare at him. He sighed. “Look, I‘m prob’ly bein‘ ridiculous. Still, I’d rather have ya upstairs, where I know yer safe, than down ‘ere. Okay? Ya don’ need ta worry ‘bout me—I’ll make up the couch. Sleep there.” Where he could watch the door. “Now—how ‘bout that shower, yeah?”

Cash hesitated at the bathroom door, until Slim smiled at him and offered his hand. Twist touched his knuckle to his nasal aperture, hiding a grin as Cash took Slim’s hand and allowed him to guide him inside. Slim’s gaze lingered briefly on Twist, the invitation in his eyelights nearly palpable. Before he could say or sign anything, Twist swatted Cash on the butt, pushing him into Slim, and shut the door on them both. “Have fun!” he called over Cash’s indignant yelling.

His throat was tight, but he smiled to himself. He didn’t know what had happened at the wharf, but something had changed between Cash and Slim—for the better. It was a relief to see them together, even if it made his soul ache. Perhaps in another time and place, the three of them could have….

He shook the thought away, determined to be happy for them. And determined to make sure their first heat was a good one. Which meant he had to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do with the two of them.

The next step was obvious; he needed to call Papyrus, but it was hard to feel good about asking for help, considering what he’d done. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, running his thumb over the buttons but hesitating to press them. He could call Blue instead, but he didn’t doubt that they two of them had talked; Blue would be less likely to help him than Papyrus would, at this point. Finally, with a sigh, he dialed.

His obligation to Cash and Slim outweighed any shame he felt.

Papyrus picked up on the second ring. “HELLO, TWISTED-ME! IF YOU’RE CALLING ABOUT YOUR BROTHER, I CAN ASSURE YOU HE IS BEING WELL TAKEN CARE OF.”

Twist ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I bet he is. Ain’t no one I trust with ‘im more’n you an’ Blue.”

“REALLY? THAT WASN’T THE IMPRESSION I GOT LAST NIGHT.”

Twist winced, though he definitely deserved that. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘bout that…” He shut his sockets, grateful Papyrus had the foresight to go to the kitchen—out of view of his brother—while Twist talked. He was worried about Blackberry, but he really didn’t want to see him like that. “…’m sorry, sweetheart. You were tryna help, an’ I was bein’ an ass.” He winced again. “Worse’n that. An’…heh. Here I am, askin’ ya fer help again.” His claws dug into the back of his neck, pinching the vertebrae. He almost wished Papyrus would tell him to fuck off and ask someone else.

“OH! WHAT DO YOU NEED HELP WITH?”

Of course he wouldn’t. Twist smiled ruefully, shame and gratitude an uneasy mix. “Stars, Pap. We don’ deserve ya. Anyone ever tell ya that?”

“YOUR FLATTERY IS NOTED AND APPRECIATED, TWISTED-ME. BUT YOU STILL HAVEN’T TOLD ME WHAT YOU NEED.”

“Slim ‘n Cash jus’ went inta heat. They asked me ta look after ‘em, but I, uh…I don’ know what ta do with ‘em.”

Papyrus was quiet for a beat. “TWISTED-ME…YOU…YOU KNOW—“ He cleared his throat and dropped his voice, ducking into a kitchen alcove. “You know what sex is, right?”

Twist blinked, then covered his laughter up by coughing. “I, uh. Yeah, sweetheart, ‘m familiar with the concept. I jus’—“

“I imagine it might be more complex with more than two people, but I’m sure it’s manageable. Do you need a diagram? I’m sure I can find one….”

“Don’—don’ go lookin’ on my behalf, darlin’.” His voice trembled as he tried not to laugh. “Don’ tell ‘Berry, but I, uh…I might know what to do with more’n one partner at a time.” He scratched the underside of his jaw. “That, uh, that ain’t the problem. I don’ know how ta make sure they’re comf’rtable. Ya know. When they aren’t gettin’, uh…in’imate.”

“OH, I SEE! OF COURSE—I SHOULD HAVE REALIZED THAT MIGHT BE A CAUSE FOR CONCERN. MAKE SURE THEY HAVE NESTING MATERIAL—“

“Darlin’, do me a favor an’ explain it to me like I’m stupid, yeah? ‘Cause I don’ know what that means.”

“YOU’RE NOT STUPID, TWISTED-ME! JUST IGNORANT!”

Twist, again, covered his laughter with a cough. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, guess I am, huh?”

“DON’T WORRY! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS HERE TO EDUCATE YOU.”

“‘M glad ‘a that, darlin’. An’ they are too.” He walked the living room, pacing in front of the couch as Papyrus told him everything he would need and everything he should expect. It took some of the pressure off, but his soul was still jittery. “Thanks, sweetheart. I ‘preciate it. ‘Specially after las’ night. Ya didn’ have ta help me—“

“OF COURSE I DID!”

Twist winced. “Yer a good friend, Pap. Sorry I wasn’ much’ve a friend las’ night.”

Papyrus was quiet for a moment. “…so we are? Friends?”

“‘Course! I mean—‘less ya don’ wanna be no more. Wouldn’ blame ya fer that. Is there, uh…there any way I c’n make it up ta ya?”

“DON’T BE SILLY, TWISTED-ME. THAT’S ENTIRELY UNNECESSARY! THE APOLOGY IS MORE THAN ENOUGH.”

Twist scratched his coronal suture. This kind of easy forgiveness didn’t feel right. It made his chest ache. “Right. Ya know how ta find me if ya need a hand with anythin’.”

“WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, TWISTED-ME, I THINK YOUR HANDS ARE GOING TO BE QUITE FULL ALREADY! EVEN WITH YOUR EXPERIENCE, FOUR PEOPLE SEEMS LIKE A BIT MUCH, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Twist choked. “Yeah, yeah—think that might be more’n I c’n handle,” he said, chuckling. “‘Specially if yer one‘ve ‘em, sweetheart. Think I might have some trouble keepin’ up.”

“OH, I DON’T DOUBT YOUR STAMINA. BUT I’M NOT SURE HOW I’D FEEL ABOUT SHARING. I THINK I PREFER TO HAVE MY PARTNER’S UNDIVIDED ATTENTION.”

“Fair ‘nough.” His grin widened. “I know Red’d be more’n willin’ ta give ya tha’, darlin’.” Papyrus went silent on the other end, and Twist straightened, suddenly worried his teasing had crossed a line. “Pap? Shit. Did I—aw, fuck. ‘M sorry, darlin’. Sumthin’ happen b’tween you two?”

Papyrus sighed. “NO! NO, NOTHING LIKE….” His hand came up, pinching his brow ridge. “THAT’S THE PROBLEM, REALLY. I…I’D LIKE TO TALK TO HIM, BUT I THINK HE MIGHT BE AVOIDING ME.”

Twist sighed. “Ain’t you he’s avoidin’, sweetheart. Fuckin’ coward.”

“TWISTED-ME! WHILE I APPRECIATE THE SUPPORT, THE NAME-CALLING IS UNNECESSARY!”

“Hn.” Twist wasn’t so sure about that. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. “Hey, uh, darlin’? Got an idea. Ya willin’ ta run an err’nd fer me? Promise it’ll be worth yer while. An’ you c’n take Cash’s car fer a joy ride.”

Papyrus politely listened to Twist’s plan, pacing the kitchen as he did. “YOU THINK THAT WILL WORK? HE COULD JUST TELEPORT AWAY.”

“Sweetheart, I c’n get ‘im to ya. ‘S up ta you ta make ‘im stay. Don’ think it’ll be any trouble—battle’s already half-won. Jus’ don’ let him give ya any bullshit, yeah?”

He could practically hear Papyrus roll his eyelights. “I’M NOT ENTIRELY SURE HOW I CAN STOP HIM, BUT YOUR POINT IS TAKEN.”

“Good! Okay, I’ll get things set up. You jus’ wait.”

Papyrus bobbed his head. “OKAY. OH—ERM. THANK YOU, TWISTED-ME. I-I APPRECIATE YOUR HELP WITH THIS.”

Twist snorted. “Darlin’, I called you fer help. Least I could do was return the favor. Good luck, now—not that you’ll need it.”

“I HOPE YOU’RE RIGHT.”

“Look, I may know jack-all ‘bout heat, but this? I got this, darlin’. You’ll be fine.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Twist didn’t call Red immediately. Instead, he gathered up good nesting materials—thankfully, they had a plentiful stash of warm, soft blankets he could raid—and piled them on the bed in his room. He changed the sheets and the pillowcases but didn’t otherwise try to make the bed; Papyrus had said Cash and Slim would probably want to do that themselves. He snuck into Cash’s room as well, grabbing his pillows and the quilt off his bed. To finish his preparations, he stashed bottled water, trail mix, fresh oranges, a couple chocolate bars, and a bag of chisps within arm’s reach of the bed. He’d take care of their meals, of course, but he had no doubt they’d need snacks in between.

He vaulted downstairs and threw a sheet and a blanket on the couch, ignoring how lonely it looked after the abundance of the attic. He passed by the bathroom to check on them, but the shower was still running. He smirked, realizing they’d probably gotten distracted and needed a little more time to clean off.

So he had just enough time for that phone call. Grinning, he dialed Red’s number, leaning against the kitchen counter as he listened to it ring. “ ‘lo?” Through Red’s sockets, he saw a rather messy studio apartment, the tv screen frozen on a video game’s pause menu.

Twist grinned. “Heya, sweetheart! Need a favor.”

“’m busy.”

“Doin’ what? Cleanin’ house?”

Red swore. “you an’ boss an’ yer fuckin’ phone vision—whaddaya want, twisted? ‘m in the middle of a boss fight.”

“Well….” He dragged the word out, rolling it around his mouth. “I got Cash ‘n Slim here. Both’ve ‘em are in heat—”

The controller fell from Red’s hands as he stood. “shit. shit. fuck. okay. um—”

“Easy, darlin’. I got ‘em.”

“you what?”

“I’m takin’ care’ve ‘em. Or, uh, they’re takin’ care ‘a each other, an’ I’m making sure nobody loses an eye ‘er nuthin’.”

Red snorted. “uh-huh. sure. yer jus’ playin’ safety monitor?”

“Fuck off,” Twist said cheerfully, “They’re happy ‘nough with each other. Don’ need me fuckin’ that up fer ‘em—”

“that what they said? or is that jus’ what yer tellin’ yerself?”

Twist’s jaw popped. He swallowed and decided to ignore that. “The point is, I need a favor. Got my hands full here—”

“sounds like they aren’t full enough, if ya ask me.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t, so shut the fuck up.” Red snickered while Twist swore under his breath. “Anyway, I can’t leave right now. The long an’ the short ‘a it is Cash an’ Slim were out at the docks tagether, an’ when their heat hit, they took a shortcut home, so Cash’s car is still parked out there. Pap’s agreed ta bring it back here fer me, but I need ya ta shortcut ‘im out ta the wharf.”

Red was silent on the other end of the line. Then—“you sonovabitch.”

“Wha’s the matter, darlin’? Got a problem with Pap all’ve a sudden?”

Red exhaled hard. “i don’ need you playin’ matchmaker, asshole.”

“Tha’s good ta hear, sweetheart, but I still need someone ta take Pap out ta the docks, an’ yer the only monster fer the job.”

“blue can—”

“Nah. While Pap’s out, Blue’s gonna be lookin’ after my bro. I got Slim ‘n Cash. Edge’s at work. An’ Razz ain’t any help ta anyone ‘cept Sans. Leaves you, darlin’.”

“leaves me, rus, an’ sans, ya mean.”

Twist snorted. “Sweetheart, I don’ know why yer bein’ stubborn ‘bout this. Jus’ take Pap out ta the docks ta pick up the fuckin’ car. You got sumthin’ better ta do?”

Red’s sockets turned toward the tv and the pause menu. “no. but….” He stood and, looking at the ground, started to pace in front of the couch. The empty bags of chisps and take out boxes he kicked aside made Twist’s hands itch. “can’t ya jus’ ask sans?”

Twist decided it was time to play dirty. “You know…Paps said you were avoidin’ ‘im. ‘M startin’ ta think he’s got reason ta feel tha’ way.”

Red swore, kicking an empty box of Chinese food. “ ‘m not avoiding him. i jus’…i need more time.”

“Time fer what, sweetheart?”

“jus’—time. time ta figure shit out.” He sighed. “it wasn’ s’pposed ta mean nuthin’. wasn’ s’pposed ta go any fruther’n jus’…teasin’. flirtin’. i didn’t really mean ta….” He exhaled slowly, staring at the wall.

“Darlin’, I don’ think anyone starts feelin’ tha’ way on purpose. It jus’…happens.”

From the way he moved his head, it was obvious Red was nodding. “yeah. i guess. ‘s jus’…now, things’re startin’ ta change. this heat shit, ‘s kickstarted it. means we…we gotta decide if things’re gonna stay the same, or….” He was staring at his feet again, one hand toying with his jacket’s zipper.

Twist scratched his jaw. “Well. Is that wha’ ya wan’? Fer things ta change?”

Red’s sockets squeezed shut. “no. yes. i—i wan’ more, but…what if it doesn’ work out? what if i fuck it up? or he finds someone better? or—?”

“Hey now, darlin’, think yer gettin’ ahead ‘a yerself. ‘Sides, yer talkin’ ta the wrong Papyrus, here. How ‘bout ya start by talkin’ to ‘im? You two’ll figure it out tagether. But givin’ ‘im the runaround ain’t fair ta either ‘a ya.”

“fuck. yeah. i know.” He sighed. “ya know…yer pretty good at this big brother shit.”

Twist snorted. “Think my bro might disagree with ya, but I’ll take the compliment. Tolja—‘m here fer ya, darlin’. Honorary big bro, whenever ya need one.”

“yeah, i remember. too bad you won’t take yer own advice. cash an’ slim—”

“Welp, you know where the docks are!” Twist said cheerfully—and loudly. “Talk ta ya later, darlin’. Luck with Pap.” He promptly hung up and turned his phone off before Red could try to say anything else. That did remind him that it was probably best to check in on Cash and Slim, though. They’d been in the shower for quite a while at this point.

He ambled down the hall, trying not to think about whatever might have kept them occupied for so long.  Holding the door frame in one hand, he knocked firmly on the bathroom door. “Hey, you two doin' okay in there? Room’s ready whenever you are.”

There was no answer. Twist frowned and knocked again. “Cash? Slim?”

Again, no answer. Twist’s soul went cold. Had they slipped? Hurt themselves? Hurt each other? Papyrus had said delirium was rare, but not impossible—

He pushed the door open, and the first shock of relief was quickly washed away by the sight before him. “Oh. Shit,” he whispered.

Cash had Slim up against the shower wall, one hand pinning his wrist the tile. Water sluiced over their bones, hot enough to cloud the mirrors. The mana nodes at each of their joints glimmered, flush with excess magic.

But what caught and held his attention were their souls. Cash’s soul hovered at the center of his chest, shining bright and rich. Mana and water beaded along its surface, dripping with need.

Slim’s soul was gripped in Cash’s hand, and Cash laved at it like a man starved. Violet magic dripped down his hand and slicked his jaw, too viscous for the water to wash away. Twist’s knees went weak, and he gripped the doorframe to steady himself. His own soul beat hard, mana rushing to his skull.

Any other sexual act probably wouldn’t have phased him, but the sight of their souls—unscarred, unguarded—had him nearly undone. He shut his sockets and shook his head to clear it. “Sorry,” he blurted out, about to close the door, but Cash’s gaze was on him now, pinning him in place. His soul beat once. Twice.

Cash held Slim’s soul out like an offering, and Twist swallowed.

He shook his head and backed away. “Can’t. I can’t. I gotta—” Sweat collected on the lower curve of his spine. The air in the bathroom was hot, humid, and smelled faintly sweet. Any trace of vinegar had been cleanly washed away. He retreated from that warmth, seeking the safety—sanity—of the hallway, where the air felt cool and clear and he wasn’t afraid of doing something incredibly stupid. Like stealing a taste of Slim’s soul.

But it wouldn’t truly be stolen. Slim’s eyelights were on him too. His mouth opened, but no words formed. Instead, he raised his free hand and signed, ‘Please.’

“I—“

Cash’s socket narrowed. “you said you’d be here to look after us. are you breaking your word already?”

“You don’—ya don’ need me fer this, sweetheart. Ya got…”

Cash whipped around, cradling Slim’s soul against his chest as he stepped out of the tub and stalked toward Twist. “look me in the eye,” he said, raising Slim’s soul between them, “and tell me we don’t need you.”

Twist’s soul hammered against his ribcage, and he could hear the mana rushing through his skull. Water dripped down Cash’s bones, forming little puddles under his feet. Behind the cage of rib-bones, his soul trembled and wept, big beads of purple mana rolling down the soft, plush sides. It begged to be touched and tasted. Twist raised his hand, wanting, even though he knew he shouldn’t. It would break his heart to leave them when the time came—and it was coming soon. But he couldn’t refuse the subtle, unconscious projections of / need / need / want / need / NEED / pouring off of Cash.

One more heartbreak wouldn’t be so hard to bear, would it?

The tension drained from his shoulders as he cupped his fingers around Slim’s soul, enclosing it between his hand and Cash’s. Leaning down, he kissed Cash slowly, and Slim, still under the water, groaned as he pressed his thumb into the crease of his soul. “Alright, darlin’,” he said against Cash’s jaw, “I’m here. Whaddaya need?”

Cash hooked his fingers through Twist’s belt and dragged him into the bathroom, Slim’s soul still cradled between them.

Chapter Text

Blackberry was a mess.

It felt like his soul had been hollowed out and a hot coal placed at its center. Mana dripped like magma from its heart, burning his bones down to the marrow. He couldn’t dismiss it and, worse, his ectobody threatened to manifest as well—a symptom absolutely no one had warned him about. He curled around his core, trying to hold himself together and trying not to make a mess on Papyrus and Blue’s couch.

Some horror movie or another played on the tv, but he’d lost the plot long ago. Blue sat near him, but as promised, didn’t touch, and Papyrus loomed nearby. He seemed incapable of sitting for any length of time and was currently rearranging the books on his shelf. Again.

Blackberry wanted nothing more than to haul Papyrus back onto the couch and pull them both close. His soul seemed to reach for them, pulling toward them like a magnet. He could sense every step Papyrus took, every move Blue made, and it made his soul burn hotter. Every moment Papyrus wasn’t settled beside him on the couch, every time Blue adjusted his position to maintain that careful distance between them, it felt like a personal rejection and his soul burned hotter still.

He knew that wasn’t true, knew that he’d asked them to keep their distance. Despite the growing ache in his soul, he was glad they kept their promise and stayed away. Because he knew his soul wouldn’t be satisfied with just their presence or their touch. His stupid, traitorous soul would need more. The simple need for companionship would twist and reshape itself into something else, something awful. Any indulgence—even the yearning for something sweet, for something soft—felt like it could cause his soul to betray him fully.

So he denied himself completely.

A particularly intense wave of heat caused him to groan and curl into an even tighter ball. Blue paused the movie. “Blackberry, are you sure you don’t want some blankets? Making a nest—“

“I’m not making anything!” he snapped, little claws pricking the towel he’d insisted they lay out on the couch.

Blue glanced back at Papyrus. “Okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but you might be more comfortable if you—“

“Nothing is going to make me comfortable with this,” he moaned. He shut his sockets, so he didn’t have to see them exchange a look. He’d gotten very tired of them giving each other knowing looks.

“Okay,” Blue said. “If you change your mind, just let us know.”

Blackberry didn’t think anything would change his mind. He didn’t want blankets. He didn’t want anyone to touch him. He didn’t want to summon his ectobody or give in to the persistent craving for something sweet. He didn’t want to do anything that might make things easier or make him more comfortable. He didn’t want this, wanted no part of it, and any concession to his soul’s desires felt too much like encouragement. And a further step down a path he had no desire to travel.

So he stayed curled into a ball, shivering at the press of too-cool air against his bones.

Before Blue could get the movie playing again, Papyrus’ phone started to ring. “OH. ITS TWISTED-ME. I’LL TAKE IT IN THE KITCHEN.”

Blackberry could at least be grateful for that bit of consideration. Beside him, Blue sat staring at the remote, toying with the buttons. “We’re supposed to be taking care of you. You can’t be comfortable like that. Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”

He resisted the urge to snap at him. Blue was trying his best, and Blackberry wasn’t being a very gracious guest. “…there really isn’t any kind of medication to stop this?”

“No. It’s part of your soul’s core being. Mana blockers might work for a fleshy monster, but only temporarily, and we’re skeletons—we’d fall to pieces if we tried. There’s nothing.”

“There has to be something,” he said, hands clenched so he didn’t claw at his ribcage. “On the black market, maybe?” He wracked his brain, trying to think of something that could put him down for a week without killing him or getting him hopelessly addicted.

Blue made a strange, strangled sound. “I’m not—stars above, I’m not supplying you with illegal drugs!”

“Then what good are you?” His brother would. But he’d have to know what kind and what dosage. And he’d need a new minder.

“I—that’s hardly fair. You won’t let us help you—“

“I don’t want your kind of ‘help’!”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t—“ Blue made an exasperated sound. “I wasn’t offering that kind of help! I just asked if you wanted a blanket—stars!” He threw himself against the back of the couch, arms crossed.

Blackberry desperately wanted to crawl across the couch and rest his head in his lap, wanted to curl around him like a cat and just be close. His soul cramped again, as if punishing him for resisting. He clenched his fists, biting back a pained moan. As the cramp faded, he became aware of the silence stretching between them. Then a burst of inspiration struck. “Cold medicine.”

“What?”

“Cold medicine. It’s not illegal, and it would probably be safe to use until this is over. The nighttime formulation would probably knock me out—“

“What?” Blue stared at him with comically wide sockets before running a hand down his face. “Can’t you just give the blanket nest a try? It will help, and it would be safer than drugging yourself unconscious.”

Blackberry struggled to his feet, swaying from side to side as his did. His soul roiled, and his perpetual wooziness threatened to blossom into nausea. “I’m calling Papy. This isn’t working. I’m asking him to take me home, and-and we’ll figure something out. I can’t stay here.” They were too tempting and Papyrus didn’t seem any more likely to get him cold medicine. Papy would, though, if Blackberry needed it.

“I’M AFRAID THAT’S NOT AN OPTION.”

Stumbling slightly, Blackberry turned to face him. “What? Why? Did something happen? Is he okay? Did Ella—?” He put a hand out, catching himself on the arm of the couch as the world tilted. Bile rose in the back of his throat, but he managed to swallow it back, choking.

Papyrus stepped into the room and reached out to steady him. Blackberry tried to jerk away, but it only caused him to stumble. “EVERYTHING IS FINE,” he said, backing away from Blackberry as he remembered himself. “CASH AND SLIM WENT INTO HEAT AND TWIST IS GOING TO MIND THEM. BUT YOU CAN UNDERSTAND WHY YOU PROBABLY DON’T WANT TO INTERRUPT THEM RIGHT NOW.”

Blackberry froze, though he couldn’t stop his bones from rattling. “He—what?”

“ITS OKAY. IF YOU REALLY DON’T WANT TO STAY HERE, WE’LL FIND—“

Blackberry jerked away from him, stumbling. “No. They can’t—“ Mana soaked his shirt, causing it to stick to his bones. The smell of cinnamon was thick in his nasal cavity, threatening to choke him again. He shook his head, and another wave of vertigo brought him to the floor, his legs simply folding under him. “He can’t,” he said again, looking up at Papyrus. “We have to stop them.”

Papyrus and Blue shared another look, then Papyrus was kneeling next to him. “‘BERRY, I’D LIKE TO TAKE YOUR TEMPERATURE. I’M CONCERNED THAT YOU’RE OVERHEATING.”

The world still seemed uneasy on its axis, but he felt steadier sitting down. Papyrus pressed a hand to his forehead, and Blackberry inhaled sharply. His hand felt cool and comforting. He wanted to lean in, but knew he shouldn’t, though he couldn’t quite remember why. Before he could fully commit one way of the other, his body decided for him. Mana flooded his mouth, and he gagged, leaning away to retch.

“OH, DEAR.”

“sorry,” he mumbled. “I c’n clean it up.” A shudder wracked him, and he realized, “Oh. She’s going to be so mad. I haven’t even started the dough yet.”

Cool hands scooped him up—one under his knees, the other supporting his neck—and cradled him against a bony chest. “DON’T WORRY ABOUT THAT. LET’S JUST GET YOU TO THE BATHROOM, OKAY?”

(“Nah, bro. Don’ worry ‘bout that. Yer too sick ta work taday. Le’s jus’ getcha ta the bathroom, yeah?”)

“She’ll be mad,” he moaned into his brother’s chest.

“NO ONE IS GOING TO BE MAD AT YOU. EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE JUST FINE.”

(“I’ll talk ta her, sweetheart. It’ll be fine. I’ll take care ‘a it. Just worry ‘bout getting’ better.”)

Papy set him down in the bathroom, near the toilet. “DO YOU STILL FEEL SICK?”

Miserable, he nodded, opening the lid so he could retch again. A cool hand rubbed his back, running up and down his spine and across his ribcage in soothing circles. Subtle projections of / peace / care / affection / comfort / emanated from the figure at his side. (“‘S okay, little bro. Let it out. You’ll feel better afterwards.”)

He wiped the spoilt mana from his mouth and leaned against his brother. “Don’ tell her,” he said, “I c’n work the counter. ‘S fine. ‘M fine.” He tried to stand, but Papy held him in place.

“JUST STAY HERE.” He continued to rub his back, and the nausea started to fade as his soul settled. Sans’ sockets slid shut, and he pressed his skull into Papy’s shoulder, taking comfort in his brother’s presence even though he knew he couldn’t stay like this. Muffet would only get angrier the longer he took to begin work.

“Everythin’ll be fine, Sans. I’ll take care ‘a her. Tolja. Jus’ stay here.”

The circles stopped as Papy instead draped his arm over Sans’ shoulders, tucking him protectively into his side. Sans only wished he could trust the sense of safety that enveloped him. “She’s gonna hurtcha. I don’ wan’ ya ta get hurt ‘cause ‘a me.”

“No one’s gonna get hurt, bro. It’ll be fine. Jus’ lemme—“

“You always say that.”

“Say what, darlin’?”

“That yer fine, even when yer not. She hurts you. I know she does. Even if she don’t leave marks where I c’n see all the time. I c’n tell. ‘M not stupid.”

Papy ran a hand over Sans’ coronal suture, and he pressed into the contact. It felt like the fever was being siphoned away wherever he touched, leaving a cool trail in his wake. “No one thinks yer stupid, darlin’. ‘M sayin’ it fer me much as I’m sayin’ it fer you.”

Sans’ sockets cracked open. “How’m I s’ppossed ta know ya really are okay, then? Yer always lyin’ ‘bout her. How do I know yer not lyin’ ‘bout them too? How do I know ya really want….” He trailed off as he remembered. “Oh. You’re not Papy, are you?”

“NO. I’M NOT YOUR BROTHER, BUT I AM YOUR FRIEND. HIS TOO.”

“Oh.” He looked up, but still, he could only see his brother’s face. Not as he was now, but how he looked before. “D’ya know…he used ta look exactly like you when we were younger. Exactly.” He leaned against the skeleton that was not his brother. “She used ta say he was pretty. All the time. Told ‘im he was lucky he was so pretty.” He shivered. “Didn’ seem lucky ta me.”

The hand on his back stuttered in its soothing circles. It resumed after a beat. “This was your Muffet?” he asked, voice soft.

Blackberry nodded. “Yeah. She’s here, now. On the Surface.” He paused, remembering. “You saw her, didn’t you?”

The skeleton—Papyrus, but not his Papyrus—nodded. “I did. She…seemed nice. At the time.”

“Uh-huh. That’s how she gets ya. Pretends to be nice, pretends to care. For a while, she is. Ya love her, fer what she’s doin’ for you an’ your brother. First time’s not so bad. She ‘pologizes. Says it won’ happen again…s’long as ya do what she says. You believe her—she was so nice before, an’ it’s not like you have any other options anyway. So ya make excuses for her. You tell yourself she won’t hurt him if you’re good. If you do exactly what she says. But s’not about that. ‘S just about her. And if she wants to hurt him, she’ll find a reason for it. She always does.” He looped his arms over his knees. “By the time you realize how bad it really is, you’re in her web, and you don’t even know how to get out anymore.”

He looked up at Papyrus, who was now frozen in place. “Stay away from her, okay? She’ll want to break you too, the same way she broke Papy.”

Papyrus stared down at him. “I…see. No—“ He cleared his throat. “No one is going to be breaking anyone. Not up here. You’re safe now. We won’t let her hurt you or—“

He shook his head, leaning against Papyrus’ side. “You don’t get it. She never hurt me. Never even touched me. It was always Papy.” He pressed closer, feeling the marrow-deep burning leech away wherever they touched. “I don’t understand. If he could protect me…then why didn’t he protect himself?”

Papyrus’ arm lowered over his shoulders. Blackberry tilted his head back, to get more contact along his neck. “I…I’m afraid I couldn’t really say. That seems like something you’ll have to ask Twisted-Me. When you’re feeling better, that is.”

He blinked. “I don’t think I’m in heat,” he said, “I think I’m just sick. ‘Cause yer touchin’ me an’ it feels nice, but I still don’t want anything else from you.”

“You are most definitely in heat—I don’t know of any illness that would cause your soul to manifest. But it’s not surprising that you’re not feeling particularly amorous. Maybe you just don’t feel that way about other people.”

“…so, it’s not going to get worse if I let you touch me? I’m not going to start feeling…that?”

“I…I wish I could give you a definitive answer, but I can’t. You might or you might not. I don’t know. But whatever you end up feeling, you just need to know that you’re safe here. No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Though…I might have to insist you take some blankets. I think you started to overheat because we weren’t properly tending to you.”

He drew his knees closer. “I don’t want to feel that way. Ever. About anyone.”

Papyrus rested a hand on top of his skull, and Blackberry couldn’t repress a relieved sigh. “You know that those feelings aren’t bad, right?”

“…they’re not good,” he said.

“But they’re not bad,” Papyrus insisted carefully, “There’s nothing wrong with feeling those things. They don’t make you a bad person and they don’t make you do bad things.”

“They make you want to do bad things. They make you think it’s okay when someone does something bad to you.”

“That’s…that’s not true. You know that’s not true. Don’t you?”

He sniffed. “I know I’ve only ever seen people get hurt.”

“…What about Edgy-Me and Lazy-Me?”

Blackberry didn’t reply at first. The truth was, he hadn’t ever really thought about their home life. “Maybe they don’t want to do that either. You don’t know.”

Papyrus sighed, scooping him up again. “Undyne and Alphys.”

“Which ones?”

“Any of them.”

He shrugged, unwilling to engage with that line of thinking. “I don’t know them well enough.”

Papyrus set him down amidst a froth of blankets that had appeared on the couch in the time they’d been gone. Papyrus himself knelt in front of the couch, one hand still cupping the back of Blackberry’s neck. “Okay. Sans and Razz.”

“Razz is definitely hurting Sans. I’m shocked you’ve allowed it to continue for so long.”

Papyrus ran a hand down his face, sighing. “I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START WITH THAT SENTIMENT. AND I DON’T THINK WE’RE GOING TO GET ANYWHERE TODAY, SO WHY DON’T WE TALK ABOUT YOUR HEAT PLAN GOING FORWARD. WE CAN’T LET YOU OVERHEAT AGAIN, WHICH MEANS WE NEED TO MAKE SURE YOUR NEEDS ARE BEING MET. SO—WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

He curled in on himself again, pulling away from him. The blistering heat immediately began to build along his spine. “I don’t want—“

“BERRY, PLEASE. WHAT DO YOU WANT? IF IT’S SOMETHING YOU WANT BUT FEEL YOU CAN’T HAVE OR SHOULDN’T DO, THEN WE’LL WORK AROUND THAT AND FIND A SUBSTITUTE. BUT WE NEED TO KNOW WHAT YOU WANT.”

Blackberry trembled in the nest of blankets, tugging at them. “Nothing.” He curled in on himself and added, “I don’t want this.”

Papyrus sighed, something sad in his eyelights. “ALRIGHT. I UNDERSTAND. WE’LL JUST HAVE TO MAKE SURE YOU HAVE WHAT YOU NEED, THEN.”

He grabbed Papyrus’ hand when he went to stand up, soul hammering as his fear reignited. “What does that—? What do you mean?”

Papyrus leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, strong projections of / COMFORT / CARE / PROTECTION / emanating from his soul. “WELL. MORE PILLOWS TO START,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet his eyelights. “FRESH CLOTHING IF YOU’RE READY FOR IT. FOOD. SOMETHING SWEET, MAYBE—AH, YES, I CAN SEE IT IN YOUR EYELIGHTS!” The corners of his sockets crinkled as he straightened, but the sadness in his smile didn’t fade. “SMALL TOUCHES. LIKE THIS.” He squeezed his hand. “OR A HUG. WE WILL BE RESPECTFUL, BUT WE CAN’T LET YOUR SOUL OVERHEAT. DOES ANY OF THAT CROSS A LINE FOR YOU? DOES ANY OF IT SOUND BAD?”

“…will you stop when I say so?”

“YES. WE’LL STOP IF YOU NEED US TO STOP. SAY ‘SNOWPOFF’ AND WE’LL KNOW IT’S TOO MUCH—CAN YOU DO THAT?”

“Why not just ‘stop’?”

Papyrus crossed his arms, one hand propped under his chin. His voice softened as he said, “You weren’t with us for a little while there. You were somewhere else. If you say ‘snowpoff’, we’ll know you’re with us, and we need to stop.”

Blackberry nodded, understanding. He rubbed his humerus, faintly embarrassed though he couldn’t say why. “And if I’m not ‘with you’?”

“If you’re that far gone, we need to bring you back however we can. Sex will never be the solution to that,” he said before Blackberry could start to panic. “But we might have to hold you. Do you understand? Are you okay with that?”

“…no sex. No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

“Even if I tell you I want it?”

“Even then.”

Slowly, Blackberry nodded. “Okay.”

Papyrus offered him a beaming smile. “EXCELLENT! BLUE?”

Blue immediately appeared from wherever he’d been eavesdropping, arms full of pillows. “Thank the stars,” he murmured, “I didn’t think I could take that for much longer. Do you have any idea how hard it was to see you like that and not do anything to help?” He piled the pillows around Blackberry, then met his sockets. “Can I sit in your nest with you?”

For whatever reason, the question made his soul twinge. He bowed forward, one hand pressed to his chest, the other flailing. Blue caught it and held steady. Blackberry found himself gripping his hand like a lifeline as he waited for the deepening cramp to pass. “Okay,“ he rasped, “but—"

“No funny business. I know. We won’t.” He settled amongst the blankets beside him, holding his arms out to telegraph his intention to hug him. Carefully, checking with Blackberry at each step, he folded his arms around him and set his chin on Blackberry’s shoulder, his hold tight and secure. “Thank you for trusting us to help you. We won’t let you down.”

The ache in his soul eased and something loosened in his chest, like a blossom opening. A shock of panic made him tense as he waited for unwanted feelings to emerge, but his desires didn’t change. He relaxed into the hug, allowing himself to hold Blue in turn. The searing heat in his marrow mellowed to mere warmth, and the last vestiges of the cramp faded away. “Stars above,” Blue said, still holding him, “how did you manage to go without touching anyone for most of a day? You had to be miserable. C’mon, now.” He pulled back, but didn’t fully release him, still resting a hand on the back of his neck. “Let’s get your nest sorted out.”

He started to fluff the pillows and rearrange the blankets, and as he did, Blackberry realized that they were all wrong. He started to tug them into place, and Papyrus sighed in relief, watching them. “WELL, I HAVE AN ERRAND TO RUN. I’LL BRING BACK DONUTS…?” He eyed Blackberry as he said this.

Too distracted to notice the obvious fishing, Blackberry said, “And cinnamon rolls?”

A full smile broke across his face. “AND CINNAMON ROLLS. IF YOU WANT ANYTHING ELSE, JUST GIVE ME A CALL.” He held his hand out, waiting for Blackberry’s nod before he ran his hand down his coronal suture, gently scratching. Blackberry shut his eyes and allowed himself to savor the contact. And, for the moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

For a while, they simply lay curled together. Rus rested with his head on Edge’s chest, one arm laid loosely over his waist, while Edge folded his arm over Rus’ back to keep him there. Normally, Edge would have become restless after only a short time, but his magic levels were low, and he needed the rest after projecting so much. He’d been briefly concerned that Rus might notice something was wrong—there wasn’t; nothing was wrong, this was exactly what he wanted but Rus wouldn’t understand that, wouldn’t get it, so it was best if he just didn’t notice to begin with—but Edge was starting to suspect that Rus wouldn’t notice if a tornado went through their house right now, so long as their nest stayed intact.

Which…on the one hand, some deep, instinctual part of him was delighted at the show of trust, pleased that Rus knew he’d be safe and taken care of so long as Edge was with him. Another part of him was terrified, because he did not want to experience the same level of obliviousness. Not because he didn’t trust Rus to do the same for him. He did. Truly, he did. But….

His soul pulsed anxiously, and he tried to put the idea of his own impending heat out of his mind. He couldn’t think about that right now. Rus needed his attention, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted by his own anxieties. He ran his claws down Rus’ skull, scratching at his coronal suture. Rus’ smile broadened, and he leaned into the contact, sighing in contentment.

A small smile touched Edge’s mouth. He nearly forgot himself and stole a kiss, but he remembered the agreement he’d made and stopped just short. Instead, he caught Rus’ hand and kissed his palm before folding his phalanges over Rus’. Rus blinked up at him. “sorry. this is probably boring for you.”

Edge snorted. “I like boring. In fact, I prefer it. Besides—” He reached for his book, then smirked and grabbed the other. He quirked a brow-bone, holding it so Rus could see the rather lurid cover. “I brought reading material.”

With a squeak, Rus lunged for the book and tucked it protectively against his chest. “where did you get that?”

“Under the bookshelf. Why? Was I not supposed to find that?” Rus’ sockets went wide, and Edge smirked. "I’ll take that as a no.” He shrugged, still smirking. “I don’t know why you wanted to keep your book under the shelf rather than on it, but it wasn’t hurting anything, so—”

“how long have you—? when did you—?”

“I think the first one was…something about pirates?” He waved his hand dismissively. “There was a pirate on the cover, at least.”

“stars, edge—that’s what i was reading when we first moved in! you didn’t…? why didn’t you say anything?”

“I told you, I didn’t see the harm in it. Though I’m still not entirely sure why you wanted to keep…” He tilted his head so he could read the title. “The Lord’s Mistress hidden.” He quirked a brow-bone.

Rus splayed his hand so the title—and cover, which featured a pair of humans in regency era garb in a rather compromising position—was no longer wholly visible. “you know why!” he squeaked. “this is—stars, i can’t believe you knew this whole time.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t notice. I vacuum every week—including under the bookshelf. You really thought I wouldn’t find it?”

“who cleans under a bookshelf!?”

“Everyone.” He reached for the book, tugging on it playfully. “We could read some of it now, if—”

“absolutely fucking not.” Edge snorted and Rus finally seemed to notice his amusement. “stars, you are such an asshole. i can’t believe you didn’t say anything. for months.” He laid back down, settling on top of Edge more fully. “i’m going to have to find a new hiding spot now.”

He chuckled, running his hand down the back of Rus’ neck and lightly scratching along the vertebrae. “Why?” Rus tilted his head to give Edge better access. “You could just keep it on the bedside table. I don’t know why you’re hiding it in the first place.” He mumbled something into Edge’s chest, and Edge lifted his hand. “What was that?”

“i said it’s embarrassing.”

Edge shook his head and resumed petting along Rus’ neck and upper back. “I don’t see how, but if it makes you feel better, I can pretend I never saw it.”

“stars, that might actually be worse.”

“Really, though, why are you embarrassed? Your taste in movies is just as bad.”

“yeah, but i like those ironically. these are…different. i know they’re trashy. but i just—"

Edge’s hand stilled. “Rus. Teasing aside, you don’t have to justify anything. You’re entitled to read whatever you want to read. But…” His smirk returned. “…you should know you don’t have to hide your porn from me.”

“oh, for—i can’t even—you are such a dick.” Rus complained, burying his face in Edge’s chest. Edge just chuckled, scratching along his coronal suture. Rus huffed, but he was smiling. “i can’t believe you. you held onto that. for months. just…waiting for the right time to tease me about it.” His smile stretched wider, and he shook his head. “and you decided to spring it on me. in the middle of my heat.” He snorted, laughter causing his chest to hitch. “i’d be furious if that wasn’t so fucking funny.” His phalanges curled, and he pressed his face into Edge’s ribcage, still laughing.

Edge’s smirk mellowed into a smile as he curled one arm over Rus’ back, keeping him close. He kissed the top of his head, earning another round of hitching laughter from Rus. “What?”

He shook his head. “nothing. just—stars, you have no idea how badly i want to kiss you right now.”

Edge considered him, weighing his own mental state and magic levels. After a beat, he asked, “How badly?”

A full-body shudder rattled Rus’ bones, and the mana nodes at his wrists and throat pulsed with a fresh flood of magic. “edge…” His voice was sibilant. Prayerful. “don’t tease right now. i don’t think i can handle it.”

“I’m not teasing.” He ran his hand down the side of Rus’ face, making sure to press his fingers into the mana node at the rear of his jaw. Rus groaned, pressing into his hand. “How badly do you want to kiss me?”

A soft whine escaped him. “i…” He swallowed, fresh mana flushing his jawbone and painting it a soft orange. “stars, i can’t even—i can’t put it into words. i’d love to talk dirty for you, edgelord, but i don’t think i can right now. i want you so bad i can’t think of anything past your hands on me, your mouth on mine.” Still lying prone atop him, Rus’ hips flexed, as if seeking friction. His head bowed and his fingers curled, gripping Edge’s ribs like he was clinging to a cliff-face. “i want you like i want to keep breathing,” he finally said.

Edge’s hand trailed down his spine, coming to rest on the curve of his lumbar. “That’s…a lot,” he finally murmured, earning more snorting laughter from Rus.

“sorry. told you i can’t really do dirty talk right now. i’m a bit too scattered.”

Or a bit too honest, in Edge’s opinion. He sat up, and Rus shifted to stay atop him, head on his shoulder and arms looped around his back. Edge pulled him close and held him tight. His soul ached, though he couldn’t have said precisely why. It was as if he could feel Rus’ soul—glimmering like a jewel behind his ribs—reaching for his, and his own soul was trying to reach back.

He kissed the side of Rus’ skull, just above the temple. Rus tried to pull away, but Edge kept hold of him. “don’t—edge, i’m serious. don’t tease. please.” He cupped Rus’ cheek, keeping his skull in place so he could plant another kiss at the rear of his jaw, just over the mana node. “edge.” His voice cracked, and Edge turned his head to kiss him full on the mouth.

It was like a dam burst. Rus’ hands cupped his face, and his thighbones gripped his hips. His tongue had already manifested, not merely coaxing but demanding Edge open for him. Mana dripped from his soul, and it fell like hot wax onto Edge’s sternum. Edge gasped, and Rus pressed into him. He tasted faintly of cigarettes and burnt sugar, and the sweet scent of spent mana lingered in Edge’s nasal aperture. Under his hands, Rus’ bones burned.

Rus smoothed his hands down Edge’s face and neck, moving to kiss the underside of his jaw. “please,” he said against his mandible, “please tell me that was permission. please tell me this is okay.”

His soul was pounding with an uneasy mix of surprise and anxiety and need, but Edge nodded nonetheless. “Yes. It’s okay, Rus. This is okay.”

“oh, thank fuck.” Rus paused, his hands on Edge’s collarbones. He looked up at him, sockets half-closed. “now we just need to get past ‘okay’, and make it to ‘good’.”

Before Edge could even ask what that was supposed to mean, Rus was kissing down the column of his neck, fingers working between his ribs. He scented him, then rasped his teeth over Edge’s vertebrae, sucking hard to bring mana to the bone’s surface. Edge couldn’t hold back a surprised yelp, hands tightening on Rus’ hips. Rus chuckled, kissing the new ‘hickey’ gently. “wanna mark you up,” he murmured against Edge’s neck, “don’t want you to ever doubt how much i want you.” He pressed his teeth to Edge’s collarbone. “need you.” He nipped the bone, running his tongue along the underside. “love you.”

Edge cupped the back of his skull, holding him there. “Do it.” Rus bit down, and he inhaled sharply, gently running his claws down Rus’ spine. The mana nodes that ran its length flared brighter in response. Edge wanted to urge him to bite harder, to make it permanent, but he knew that would be too much, and Rus would regret adding to his scars, even if Edge did not.

When Rus pulled back, Edge cupped his face to kiss him again. It was like kissing a wildfire—hot and overwhelming and inescapable. Rus’ hands gripped the bottom of his ribcage, squeezing the floating ribs. Edge groaned into his mouth, and Rus seemed to drink it in, thighbones gripping him. His own mana nodes began to light up. “wanna taste you.” Rus’ breath was hot against his jawbone.

“I think you are,” Edge said, but Rus was already pulling back. He gripped the waistband of Edge’s sweats, pulling them down, but he left them in a tangle around his ankles. Edge reached to try to pull them off fully, but Rus grabbed his thighs and pulled until he was lying prone. Before Edge could recover, Rus was kissing him again, hovering overtop him with his hands planted on either side of his skull. His knees settled between Edge’s legs, holding them open for him.

“okay?” he asked when he pulled back.

“A little aggressive,” he said, trying to calm his soul’s racing, “but okay.”

Rus snickered, head bowing forward to press against Edge’s sternum. “fuck, i love you. so much. you have no idea what you’re doing to me.” Rus’ thumb touched the mark on his throat and his phalanges found the bite on his collarbone. “gonna show you,” he said, kissing first one mark, then the other. “want you just as desperate as i am, edgelord.”

His soul pulsed at the promise—threat?—but his hand found Rus’ sacrum, slipping down the back of his sweatpants to finger the foramina. Rus’ whole body bowed, and he cried out, burying his face in Edge’s chest as his hips rose to meet the touch. “I don’t think you can manage that, but I look forward to watching you try.”

Orange eyelights speared him, and for just a moment, he could feel his sins crawling on his back. “oh, you are way too coherent right now,” he said, slapping Edge’s hand away so he could crawl down his body. “when i’m done with you, precious, my name’s gonna be the only thing you remember how to say.”

“I very much do—” Rus hiked his hips up and tongued his pubic bone. “—UBT that!” Rus looked down at him, features framed by Edge’s thighs, and there was equal parts promise and threat in his eyelights. Breathing unsteady, Edge swore softly, and the corners of Rus’ sockets crinkled in amusement. Edge flexed his leg, testing Rus’ hold, but Rus slipped his thumbs through the obturator foramen at the base of his pelvis, giving him more control. And ensuring that Edge couldn’t break his hold without breaking his thumbs as well. “That…” He took a breath, squirming as Rus rubbed the inner arch of the foramen. “That is a dirty trick.” His voice was unsteady, breathless.

“my favorite kind. still okay?”

Edge gave it a moment of thought, then grabbed a pillow from behind his head, shoving it under his spine so it wasn’t cricked at such a bad angle. It was fine for the moment but would have grown uncomfortable after a while, and Rus’ eyelights promised ‘a while’. “Okay. Continue.”

Edge could feel him smile against his pubic bone, and he threw an arm over his sockets, shutting them tight as Rus tongued the opening of his pubic symphysis. Mana drained from his soul to flood his nodes, until his bones were shining almost as brightly as Rus’. Unformed magic swirled in the cradle of his pelvis, just waiting for enough stimulation or enough Intent to form. Edge couldn’t decide if it was better or worse to keep his sockets shut; now all he had to focus on was the rush of mana through his skull and the slide of Rus’ tongue over bone and cartilage. He exhaled slowly, breath shuddering in his thoracic cavity as he tried to maintain control of his magic.

Rus tsked. “always fighting me,” he murmured against his upper thigh, kissing it. “stars, edge, i just want to watch you fall apart. is that so much to ask?”

Sockets still covered, Edge chuckled. “I’d say so, yes.” Rus mouthed at the upper femur, nipping. “Harder,” he said and braced for the bite.

Rus kissed it instead. “no. not this time. i know you, precious.” He lowered Edge’s hips, and Edge moved his arm, tilting his skull to meet his gaze. His soul pulsed as he saw the depth of love and understanding in Rus’ eyelights. “you don’t enjoy the pain; you’re using it to give yourself something to focus on, something to distract from the pleasure. which—fine. normally, i’ll play that game with you, but i’m not kidding. i want to watch you come undone this time. okay?”

Edge stared at him, sockets wide. His soul thrummed nervously and his breathing came fast and hard. Before he could even register that Rus was asking for permission, the urge to fight, to struggle welled up out of long habit. Something must have shown in his face because Rus lowered his hips and released him, running soothing hands up and down Edge’s thighs. “too much?”

“A little.” His chest felt tight.

“you trust me, don’t you?”

“It’s not about that. It’s—” How to explain what Rus was asking of him? How to explain the layers and layers of armor he’d already set aside for him? How to explain the difficulty of removing this last piece? “Too much. For now.”

“got it.” Rus smoothed his thumbs over Edge’s thighbones. “still in the mood?”

He thought about it, and his eyelights fell to Rus’ soul, still dripping in his chest. “Yes, but—” Rus was already lifting his hips back up. Despite himself, Edge had to smile at his eagerness, amplified as it was by his heat. “—but why don’t you show me how you like to touch yourself instead?”

“you know how i—” He followed Edge’s gaze. “oh.” Lowering Edge’s hips, he touched his sternum, and Edge gave a little nod.

“Show me what you like, Rus.”

His whole body shuddered. “yeah? yeah. okay. okay. just, let me—” He rearranged their positions, so he was straddling Edge’s hips, and the pillow was tucked behind Edge’s head. “comfortable?”

“I thought maybe you’d be the one lying down for this.”

“oh, no. you’re not getting off that easy—rather, you’re not getting up until i get you off at least once. then we can switch.”

Edge shook his head, amused. He laid his hands overtop Rus’ thighbones, smoothing his phalanges over them. “We’ll see.” He let his gaze drift to Rus’ soul. “Show me.”

“you’ve really never done this before?”

Brow-bone quirked, Edge asked, “Who would I have done it with? Hook’s just about the only Fell monster I’d trust with it, and we certainly don’t have that kind of relationship.” He swallowed and added, “Besides, my LV has…changed it.” He eyed Rus’ soul. “Mine doesn’t look like yours anymore.”

“what’s it look like?”

“Rough. Callused. Hard. Like a stone.”

Rus’ sockets widened. “oh. i didn’t….” He cleared his throat. “i didn’t think about the lv. how it might change things.”

Edge shrugged. “It is what it is. But…” He swallowed. “I’m afraid that I might not be able to reciprocate, even if I want to. You understand?”

Rus ran a hand over his cheekbone before giving him another kiss, chaste and sweet. “yeah. i understand. it’s okay, precious. love you and whatever you’re able and willing to give.” Edge returned the kiss, deepening it as he ran a hand over Rus’ sternum, stopping only to hook his claws over his collarbone. Rus shuddered, skull bowing forward to press their foreheads together. They lingered like that, and when Rus eventually pulled back, he had his soul in hand.

He brought it up between them, giving Edge a good look at its warm, shining surface. It was slick with orange magic, and the smell of burnt sugar and cotton candy grew stronger. Meeting Edge’s eyelights, Rus gave it a long, slow lick, from base to tip. Rus made a soft, breathy sound at the back of his throat, spine flexing as his pelvis rocked into Edge.

Edge swallowed hard, the magic in his pelvic cavity beginning to swirl and condense, beading like dew on his pubic bone. “What’s it feel like?” he heard himself ask, voice thick.

Rus’ sockets were shut. One hand gripped Edge’s ribcage to steady himself, fingers hooked between the bones. The other cupped his soul. “good,” he murmured, “feels real good.”

Edge bit his tongue to keep himself from laughing. “I see.” He rocked his hips again, and Edge glanced down, noting the warm glow of magic visible through the fabric of his pants. He tugged at the waistband. “You should have taken these off.”

Rus shook his head. “not yet. don’t wanna form anything ‘til i can watch you cum.” He popped his thumb into his mouth, getting it slick with mana.

Edge’s breathing was picking up again, and the urge to move, to grab Rus by the hips and grind into him was becoming distracting. “You seem oddly focused on getting me to—” fall apart “—cum, considering you’re the one in heat.”

“’s how it works,” he said, using his thumb to rub the base of his soul, where the twin curves met. His head tilted back as he gasped a little, his hold on Edge’s ribcage tightening. He swallowed, stilling his thumb as he cracked his sockets open to look down at Edge. “it’s about connection. if you had your soul out right now….” He shuddered, squeezing his own hard enough to dimple the plush surface. “stars, it’s probably for the best you don’t.”

“Why’s that?”

Rus winced. “accidental soul bonds’ve happened. and stars, i can already feel my soul reaching out for yours, and yours hasn’t even manifested.” His hips shuddered and Edge gripped his thighs, pressing up, into the friction. “we’d have to be careful, and i don’t think i can manage careful right now.”

Despite himself, Edge didn’t think he could manage careful either. He could feel it too—even unmanifested, even sitting like a stone behind his ribs, he could feel his soul reaching for the connection. He ran his hands from the top of Rus’ thighs to his knees, squeezing to try to anchor himself. “Stars, that’s terrifying.” But he didn’t sound terrified. His gaze was fixed on Rus’ soul, on watching the mana drip down its sides and down Rus’ hands. A bead of mana hung off the first knuckle of his smallest finger, threatening to fall. Edge wanted nothing so badly as to grab his hand and taste it.

Seeing the direction of his gaze, Rus grinned and licked the bead away. A little growl escaped Edge and he started to sit up, as if jealous. “oh, i think you like this,” Rus said, smirking. “i think you like this a lot.”

“Rus.” He tightened his grip on his thighs, though he couldn’t be sure what he was asking for.

Rus brought his soul to his mouth again, tonguing the crease. A soft sound escaped Edge’s throat, and Rus smirked as he pulled his soul away. “you wanna try?” Edge lifted his hand, reaching, but he hesitated, seeing the sharp claws and the cracked bones. He curled his fingers and drew back, planting his hand back on Rus’ thigh. Rus tilted his head, brow-bones drawing together. “edgelord?”

He swallowed. “Not yet. What if—” He took a steadying breath. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“you won’t. but why don’t we try something, if that’s what you’re worried about?” Edge nodded, eyelights still fixed on Rus’ soul. “keep your hands on my thighs. i’m going to hold it, while you taste. okay?”

“Yes.”

Rus smiled, murmuring, “good”, as he brought his soul to Edge’s mouth. His own soul was beating so hard, Edge felt almost dizzy with it. His first lick was tentative, and he inhaled, feeling the shock of raw mana in his mouth. Bolder now, he ran his tongue over his soul, making sure to lick between Rus’ fingers. Atop him, Rus shuddered. “oh, fuck. oh, stars. that is. oh. oh.”

Edge grabbed his wrist when Rus tried to pull away, and a squeak escaped him as Edge slipped his tongue between its crests. Rus’ free hand was no longer on Edge’s ribcage. Instead, he’d slapped it over his own mouth, as if he could silence himself. His hips rocked, and Edge gripped one side, grinding up into him. He folded his other hand over Rus’, so he could hold his soul without touching it directly. That way, he was able to bring it closer to his mouth, able to suck on the tip, using mana to cushion his teeth. Rus sobbed, thighs squeezing Edge’s hips as they ground against each other.

Another deep, delving swipe of his tongue into the crease caused Rus to keen. His soul pulsed, and more mana dripped down the sides, pouring over both their hands and landing on Edge’s chest, burning. It smeared over his jaw, his teeth, but Edge lapped at it, even while Rus shook atop him. He only stopped when Rus’ free hand pushed at his jaw, shoving him away. “too much!”

While Rus recovered, staring at him with startled sockets, Edge brought his hand to his mouth and licked the mana away, holding his gaze. He sat up and Rus put his soul back in his chest. Edge palmed him through his sweatpants, feeling the thick cock that had manifested. “So much for watching me cum first.”

Still breathless, Rus managed to say, “worried you’re not gonna get yours, precious?”

He snorted, pushing Rus down into the nest. “With you? Never.” He pulled Rus’ pants down and kicked his own legs free, tossing their clothes to the floor.

“not gonna pick those up? fold ‘em, maybe? put ‘em in the—” Edge kissed him silent, running his hands down his ribcage before hiking Rus’ thighs up and folding them toward his chest. It left his cock perfectly exposed, standing tall between them. He eyed it speculatively, and Rus started to kick. “no. no—don’t you fucking dare. i want inside you and if you so much as breathe on that, i’m going to lose it.”

Edge snorted as he dipped his fingers to his own pubic symphysis. “Not going to last long inside me, then, are you?” He ran his fingers over the cartilage, spreading a mix of their magic over his bones, breath hitching. He shuddered, and his soul pulsed, mana spreading and pooling in his pubic cavity as his pussy formed. “Stars, I don’t think you’ll need to, though.”

Rus, eyelights previously riveted to Edge’s fingers, now looked up to meet his gaze. “you’re close?” He nodded, moving to settle with his knees on either side of Rus’ hips. He sank down, teasing his folds along the tip of Rus’ cock. Rus groaned, face screwed up as if he was in pain. “edge, please—no more. i can’t take it.”

Edge’s own breathing was broken, unsteady. “No more.” He said it like a promise. “Hold still.” He lined them up and sank onto Rus’ cock. His walls stretched to accommodate him, the mana pliant and ready after so much build up. They both groaned as Rus hilted inside him, and for a moment, Edge shut his sockets, enjoying the heat and the fullness of it.

A pair of mana slicked fingers found his mound and began to rub little circles into his clitoris. Edge jumped, rocking on Rus’ cock. “Fuck!” He gripped Rus’ ribcage to steady himself, glaring, and Rus smirked back at him, fingers still circling.

“told you, precious. you’ll get yours.”

“Stars, why does that sound like a threat?” he asked, beginning a slow, gentle rhythm.

“because you have—” Rus stifled a moan. “—an overactive threat assessment system.”

Edge snorted. That was something of an understatement. He flexed his thighs and hips, trying to—“Oh, fuck.”

“found it?” Rus smirked. Edge nodded, beginning to ride him in earnest. “yeah, babe. just like that. take it. take what you need. fuck, you look so good right now.” Edge felt a flush spread across his cheekbones.

“Shut. Up. I thought—” A little shock ran through him, prelude to an orgasm. “—you were too scattered for dirty talk.”

“’s not dirty talk. just the truth.”

“Next time, I’m gagging you,” he said, squeezing his cunt as he slammed home, bones clattering. Rus swore, and his cock briefly seemed to swell inside him before hot mana painted his walls. The heat of it trigged his looming orgasm, and Edge bit his hand to keep silent, despite Rus’ distant protests. His fingers kept circling, pushing him higher and further.

Only when the pleasure started to fade and the edges of his vision started to go dark did Edge realize he’d miscalculated. He was barely able to roll off of Rus, landing beside him in the nest just before everything went black.

Chapter Text

They drew him into the shower, barely giving him the chance to strip out of his clothes. At first, everything was a blur of steam and vaporized mana. The scent of them filled his thoracic cavity, subtly sweet and heady, and the projections of / want / want / NEED / hit him like a truck. His own soul seemed suddenly heavy in his chest, responding to their projections with soothing reassurances of / HErE / hERe / HERE /. 

Slim gasped as Twist dipped his head and caught his mouth in a kiss. "Whaddaya wan', sweetheart?"

Slim's hands fluttered, but instead of using them to speak, he caught Twist's hips and pulled him flush to his body. Behind him, Cash draped himself over Slim’s shoulders, nosing along his cervical vertebrae. Slim lifted his chin, one hand shaping the word, “please”, then—

Cash bit down, hard enough to draw mana. Slim moaned, body twitching, but his hand frantically signed, “yes yes yes yes” so Twist didn’t interfere. He just kissed him again, still carefully cupping Slim’s soul in his hand. Slim surged against him, desire obvious as his hands clutched at Twist’s ribcage. Claws scratched at the sensitive undersides, and he moaned into Slim’s mouth.

“Fuck tha’s good, sweetheart.” Slim leaned into him, squirming as Cash trailed his hands down his spine, nipping at the occasional transverse process as he knelt behind him. Twist looked over Slim’s shoulder and caught his eyelight. “Gonna show ‘im a good time, darlin’?”

Cash flipped him off—insulted he even felt the need to ask, apparently—before sucking Slim’s tailbone into his mouth, hands gripping his sacrum. Slim yelped, but Twist steadied him, holding him in place while Cash very nearly attacked his tailbone and sacrum. Twist couldn’t see much from over Slim’s shoulder, but by the way Slim clutched at his ribs and buried his face in Twist’s chest, he knew he enjoyed whatever Cash was doing with his tongue.

“Like tha’?” he asked. “Know ya do, sweetheart. Lookatcha.” He tilted Slim’s chin up so he could see his eyelights, dilated by pleasure. He traced his thumb over Slim’s cheek. “We’re gonna have fun with ya, ain’t we?” His voice was a low purr, unintentionally sultry. “Can’t wait ta have ya upstairs. See ya spread out in my bed. Who d’ya wan’ ta fuck ya first, love?” Slim shuddered, and Twist smirked, seeing that he’d formed his cock. “Or maybe ya wanna be ridden, yeah?” Slim nodded frantically, hips juddering as Cash teased the head of his cock with a mana-slick thumb. “Oh, I’d like that, darlin’. Love ta have ya under me.”

Still mouthing at his sacrum and tailbone, Cash began a slow, teasing handjob. From the expression on Slim’s face, and his gutted exhalations, it had to be torture; just enough pressure to stimulate, but not enough to reach completion. And when his hips twitched forward, seeking friction, Cash chuckled and pulled away, denying him.

Slim whined, signing, “please please please,” and Twist kissed him as he did, cupping the back of his neck. Warm water poured over them, cascading over Twist’s shoulders and down his spine. He held Slim’s soul in his other hand, tucking it against his chest. Licking a stripe over Slim’s sacrum, Cash thumbed the head of his cock and resumed the lazy, teasing pump of his hand. Twist tried to mimic his timing, rubbing his thumb over the peak of Slim’s soul every time Cash’s hand closed over the head of his cock.

Slim choked, pressing his skull into Twist’s neck as if seeking comfort. Fresh mana dripped from Slim’s soul, and this time, when Cash teased his thumb over the slit, Twist tongued the crease, earning a high-pitched whine from Slim. “Fuck, ya taste good,” he groaned, mana starting to gather at his pubic symphysis. “Hey—I know ya ain’t a talker,” he said, recovering himself, “but I bet that tongue ‘a yers is good as gold, yeah? Maybe tha’s how I’ll have ya first—ride yer face b’fore I ride yer cock. How’s that sound?”

Slim nodded but gasped out, “cash?”

Twist smirked. “Don’ worry, sweetheart. Ain’t leavin’ ‘im out. I’ll let ‘im—”

“let me?” Cash growled, hand closing around the base of Slim’s cock. “you’ll let me?”

Twist smirked while Slim snickered. “What’s the matter, darlin’? You wanna run this show?”

Cash stood, glaring at him as he looped his arms around Slim’s waist. Slim hissed as Cash’s hand closed around his cock again, pumping slowly. His back arched, and Cash’s free hand snaked out, closing around his neck. Twist paused, looking them over. Slim tilted his head back, surrendering to Cash’s care. His mana nodes had grown even brighter, and his soul wept in Twist’s hand.

Seeing that, Twist’s shoulders relaxed and he said, “Fuck you two look good like that.” He cupped Slim’s cheek, eyeing Cash. “Think yer gonna hafta wait fer me ta ride ya, sweetheart. Think Cash’s gonna finish ya right here.”

Slim shook his head, sockets going wide. His hand fluttered, saying, “inside.”

Twist smirked and kissed him. “Later, love,” he said against his mouth. “We got time. Wanna watch ya come like this, yeah. Wanna see ya fall apart fer ‘im.”

Slim’s breathing was rough now. “please,” he signed again.

Twist took his hand in his, kissing his knuckles, his fingertips. “Yer perfect, sweetheart. Fuckin’ perfect like this.” Slim’s sockets squeezed shut. He shook his head, denying the words. Twist and Cash shared a look, and Twist grinned, bringing Slim’s soul to his mouth again. Cash’s pace increased, pumping him in earnest now. Twist blew a stream of air across his soul’s surface, then closed his mouth around it, sucking the tip while he fingered the valley between the two crests. Cash bit him again, thumbing the head of his cock as he did.

Slim didn’t make a sound, but his whole body jerked. Ropes of mana painted Twist’s ribcage, while yet more mana flooded his mouth—too much to swallow. He pulled Slim’s soul away, coughing. Seeing that, an embarrassed flush spread across Slim’s cheekbones. “s-sorry,” he whispered.

Twist cocked a brow-bone and deliberately licked the spent mana from his thumb. “Fer what, darlin’?” He held out his hand, looking past him at Cash. “Wanna taste?”

Cash leaned forward, taking two of Twist’s fingers into mouth. Heat coiled low in his abdominal cavity as he sucked them clean. “’s good,” Cash rasped, slurring a little. His eyelight was blown wide, and mana lit his joints. It swirled around his pubic cavity, glimmering.

“Real good,” Twist purred, washing his hand and ribs clean. “C’mon, then. Water’s gettin’ cold, an’ you two’re clean ‘nough. Le’s getcha upstairs, sweetheart.” He tucked Slim’s soul back into his chest cavity and walked him out of the shower. He offered a hand to Cash as well, but he just glared at it. Shrugging, Twist grabbed a towel and started to dry Slim off, only to jump when Cash came up behind him and dropped a towel over his head, blinding him.

Slim snickered, leaning into Twist, while Twist tried to shove the towel away from his sockets. “What’re ya—?”

“obvious, isn’t it?” Cash asked, arms tight around him as he ran the towel over Twist’s bones. “i’m drying you off, twisted.”

Slim crowded close, grinning up at him with mischief in his smile, while Cash took undue care drying him off. Twist’s soul started beating faster, heavy and hot in his chest. “Ya don’ gotta—” He cleared his throat. “I c’n do tha’, darlin’.”

Cash just shot him a glare, palming his sacrum through the towel. He tweaked his tailbone when Twist inhaled sharply. “am i hurting you?” Cash asked, thumb sliding alongside the bone.

“No. ‘s not that. Ya jus’—” He huffed. “Jus’ wasn’ expectin’ it, is all.”

Cash paused briefly when he reached the lingering marks Boris had left the day before, but he didn’t comment. He just rubbed the towel over them, as if to wipe them away, and continued to dry him off—occasionally tweaking a rib or sliding his phalanges over a sensitive stretch of bone. The touches were infrequent enough that Twist couldn’t help but twitch or hiss each time he did it. Cash didn’t say anything, but Twist could sense his smirk. His soul jolted, too, and with every lingering touch, he could feel his mana nodes warming.

A hot tongue slid over his upper thigh, inches from his pubic bone. He swore, body jolting, and this time Cash chuckled. “Fuckin’ hell,” he grumbled. “Aren’t ya—fuck—” He could feel Cash’s breath on his sacrum. Slim grinned up at him, purring as he smoothed his hands over Twist’s ribs. Stars, the steam was making it hard to breathe, hard to think. “How is it ya got the wherewithal fer teasin’, huh? Thought ya—” He bit down on a string of swears when Cash’s fingers ghosted over his pubic bone. “—thought ya’d wanna go straight ta the main event.”

Standing, Cash folded around him, arms tight across his chest as he nosed at his scapula and spine. “why rush?” Twist swallowed when he heard Cash scent him, his exhale like a growl. “you’re mine for at least the next seven days.” His soul dropped. They’d been dancing around each other for so long, the naked declaration felt more intimate than even the little touches that had come before.

And it was a stark reminder of how little time they truly had.

Twist swallowed, then turned in Cash’s hold and hoisted him up, holding him against the door. Cash started, but recovered quickly, wrapping his legs around Twist’s hips. Twist caught his mouth, kissing deeply as he pinned him to the door. His breath shuddered in his thoracic cavity when Slim came up behind him, hands on his sacrum and mouth teasing over his thoracic vertebrae.

He couldn’t have them for forever, couldn’t try to make a life with them. But he could have them here and now. If that’s all he would be allowed, he was going to take whatever they offered, and he wouldn’t hold anything back.

Cash must have sensed the sudden desperation in Twist’s kiss, because he signed something to Slim, and then the world shifted around them. Twist stumbled, disoriented, but before he could fall or—worse—drop Cash, Slim caught his hips and steadied him. “Bed?”

“here.”

Twist turned, throwing Cash onto the fresh sheets. Cash scrambled to sit up, looking back at him, eyelight heated and mana nodes glowing bright. Twist surged forward, straddling his hips and pushing Cash into the mattress. Stars, he seemed small under him, the difference in their height and breadth suddenly magnified. Twist wanted him—his soul ached for him, for both of them—but first, he had to know: “What’re yer rules, sweetheart?”

Cash blinked at him. “wha—rules?”

“Yeah. Things I ain’t allowed ta do t’ya.” Cash’s brow-bone crept up, and Twist rested his hand on Cash’s ribcage, holding him in place. “Know Slim don’ mind pain with ‘is pleasure—” He glanced at Slim, satisfied when he offered a subtle nod in confirmation. “—but what about you?”

For a beat, Cash didn’t answer, looking between the two of them as if he suspected a trick or a game. Then he swallowed. “a little is fine. but i’d rather be on the other end of it.”

Twist nodded. “Right. D’ya always gotta be in charge, or do I get a turn?”

A hot flush spread across Cash’s ribcage and over his good cheekbone. Behind his ribs, his soul gave a hard thump, pulsing with fresh need. Mana dripped from it, painting his spine and ribs. He swallowed, and Twist felt his bones tense between his thighs. “not always,” he finally said, voice hoarse, “but—i don’t…”

When he didn’t finish, Twist prodded him to continue. “Go on, darlin’. Ain’t gonna judge ya. What don’ ya like?”

“i don’t like being on the bottom.”

He looked at the way they were positioned. “Physically? Or d’ya mean—” He mimed the act with his hands, and Cash scowled while Slim snickered, flopping onto the bed beside them.

“i mean i don’t want your dick inside me,” he snapped, only sparing Slim a quick glance. As if he wasn’t quite ready to let Twist out of his sight.

Teasing, Twist asked, “Jus’ mine?”

Cash glared at him. “i give. i don’t take. from anyone.”

“Alright, alright. Think we c’n work with that.” He shared a look with Slim, who cuddled close, smoothing a hand over Cash’s sternum. He steadied under his hand, relaxing when they didn’t push his boundaries. “Anythin’ else? Oral okay, er is tha’ too much like takin’?”

“oral’s fine—pussy or cock.”

“An’ what about this?” He laid his hand flat over Cash’s sternum, directly over his soul. Twist thought he could feel the heat of it, could feel it stretching toward him. “Tha’ off limits, or…?”

Cash’s breathing hitched. He looked from Twist to Slim, panic and desire at war on his face. “i—”

“you don’t have to,” Slim murmured, huddled against his ribs. His hand came to rest overtop Twist’s, and his sockets slid half-closed. “think you want to, though.”

His throat clicked as he swallowed. “i’ve never….”

“Me neither.”

 Cash refocused on him, his interest narrowing. “what about you?”

“My rules, ya mean? ‘M flexible—ain’t picky about parts. Er position. An’ I like takin’ charge—or takin’ orders.” He shrugged. “Flexible. Jus’ don’ hold me down. Tell me where ta keep my hands, an’ I’ll keep ‘em there. An’ don’ call me—” He swallowed. “Don’ call me pretty, yeah?” They wouldn’t—he wasn’t, not anymore—but he didn’t think he could handle it if they did.

They both nodded, and if they thought the latter was an odd request, they didn’t comment. “and…your soul?” Slim asked.

He snorted. “I c’n bring it out, but uh…ya ain’t gonna wanna play with it.”

“why not?”

He straightened. “Easier ta show ya.” It was embarrassingly easy to summon, prompted as he was by their projections of want, need, and desire. And his own soul’s yearning in response.

Which made the hard, thorny lump that appeared in his chest all the more disappointing. He pulled it out to let them see the hard carapace around the exterior, and the knotted barbs curling from it. “Ain’t really made fer soulplay no more,” he said, shrugging as if that didn’t bother him. “Be like tryna fuck a rock.”

Slim reached out anyway, palm up and open to receive it. Twist hesitated. Seeing that, Slim drew his hand back. “sorry. i thought—”

Twist shook his head. “Nah, darlin’; ain’t that.” He cleared his throat, eyeing the barbed lump with trepidation. “You c’n hold it, but uh…be careful, yeah? These bits ‘r sharp.” He held it out, and Slim gingerly took it from his hand, deftly avoiding the sharp spines.

Cash sat up, taking his weight on his elbows for a better view. Slim rubbed his thumb over it, in a spot free of thorns. “can you feel that?”

Self-conscious now, Twist started to squirm. “Not really. Jus’—pressure, is all. Know yer touchin’ it, but tha’s ‘bout it.” Slim brought it to his mouth, and Twist sat up straight. “Darlin’, don’—yer gonna hurt yerself.”

Ignoring him, Slim kissed that same spot. Twist still couldn’t feel it, but watching him touch his hardened, twisted soul like it was something precious, like it was worthy of the same love and care their softer, sweeter souls deserved left Twist reeling. Fresh mana dripped from the shattered side of his skull, running down his cheekbone and dripping from his jaw. “Sweetheart….” His voice was a hoarse rasp.

Eyeing him, Slim started to tuck Twist’s soul into his own chest cavity as if it belonged there. Twist reached for him, making a wordless sound of protest. Still holding his soul, Slim paused. “do you want it back?”

“I don’…” His gaze fell to Slim’s soul, still resting behind his ribcage. “Yer soul. If mine touches it, it’ll catch on the barbs. Hurtcha, darlin’. An’ I don’ wanna do that.”

“you already know i don’t mind a little pain.” He shrugged and signed, “or a lot.”

Twist shook his head. “Not like this, sweetheart. Bitin’, scratchin’, spankin’—tha’s all fine with me. I can do tha’ fer ya. But I can’t….” He took a shuddering breath. “Not that. Never that.”

Slim paused, thumb still pressing against that thornless spot, rubbing at it like a worry stone. “then why don’t we trade?”

“Trade?”

Smiling softly, he nodded. “yeah. i keep yours. cash keeps mine. and you keep his.”

His hips flexed as he readjusted his position, feeling fresh mana start to pool in the cradle of his pelvis. “Tha’s….” He swallowed. “Wouldn’ mind tha’. How ‘bout you, Patches?”

Cash blinked, so mesmerized by the sight of Twist’s soul behind Slim’s ribcage that he forgot to be annoyed by the nickname. “i.” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “yeah. yeah, we can. we can do that.”

Smiling, Slim released Twist’s soul and took his own in hand, holding it out to Cash. He stared at it for a long moment, then swallowed hard and cupped it carefully in his hand. He kissed it, as Slim had done before taking Twist’s soul, and brought it to his chest cavity. His fingers ghosted over his own soul, but he didn’t pull it out.

“Ya don’ gotta,” Twist said gently when he hesitated for a beat too long. “I know—”

Cash glared at him, hand closing tight around his soul a moment later. “you don’t know shit,” he snapped, shoving his soul into Twist’s hands. It seared his metacarpals, and fresh mana seeped from it, dripping between his fingers. For the first time, Twist started to wonder if heat could be contagious, stunned by the wave of want that rolled through him all at once. Fingers trembling, he brought Cash’s soul to his mouth, kissing it as the others had done, but he took it a step further. He laved at it, sucking mana from the surface as it welled up. Cash swore, hips tensing beneath him, and Twist’s joints began to glow bright, mana condensing on his pubic symphysis.

“Got anymore rules, sweetheart?” he asked, tucking Cash’s soul into his chest as he rocked his hips. “Things I should know? ‘Cause I think ‘m jus’ bout ready ta take ya fer a ride, but—”

Cash gripped his hips tight. “then shut the fuck up and do it already.” His hips thrust up, their pubic bones grinding together, both slick with fresh mana. Cash swore, fingers tight enough to leave bruises on his hipbones. “i’m tired of your talking.”

Twist grinned. “D’ya mind, darlin’?” he asked Slim. “With some prep, I could prob’ly take ya both at once—” Cash started a soft litany of swears upon hearing that, and he threw an arm over his sockets as if to block them out. Twist’s smile widened. “—but Patches ain’t had his yet, an’ I don’ think he’s got the patience fer it now.”  

Slim’s sockets crinkled. “maybe later,” he said, and Cash groaned.

Smirking, Twist reached between them to rub Cash’s pubic symphysis. A choked sound escaped him before Cash slapped a hand over his jaw. “Could take ‘is mouth,” Twist offered, “Looks like he wouldn’t mind somethin’ ta muffle the sounds he’s makin’.”

“i don’t mind watching. for now.”

Twist grinned. “Well, if yer watchin’, then we better put on a good show, yeah?”

“stars, you two are going to kill me,” Cash muttered.

“’S matter, sweetheart? Don’ like dirty talk?”

Glaring, he snapped, “not if you’re too busy talking to do anything!”

“Oh, ‘m sorry, darlin’. Feelin’ neglected? I c’n fix that.” He shifted his hips back, until it was easy to lean down and kiss along Cash’s femur. He mouthed at the bone, then sucked until a flush of mana bloomed across the surface. Cash’s hips arched, but Twist kept a firm grip on his thighs, licking at the bruised bone.

Shoving his femurs apart, he nipped at the pubic bone and licked the inside of the foramen, tightening his hold on Cash’s thighs when he started to squirm. The scent of his magic grew stronger, thick and rich in the air. Beads of purple mana formed on his pubic symphysis, dripping down the arch as magic rippled in his pelvic cavity.

Cash’s ribcage rose and fell rapidly, his breathing hard. He swore quietly, until Slim leaned in to kiss him. Twist relaxed his grip a little, watching them. Stars, they really were beautiful together. His soul ached, wanting more of them—more time with them. Just wanting. As if sensing that, Slim’s hand dipped into his chest cavity and toyed with the sharp spines that lined the crest of his soul.

Twist shuddered, feeling—something. A tingling pressure that wasn’t quite pleasure, wasn’t quite pain. It sent a shock of need straight through him, though, and his genitals formed all at once: a plush pussy between his thighs and a heavy cock at the apex. He rutted against nothing, seeking friction. But Cash’s magic remained stubbornly unformed.

While Slim pulled away from the kiss, eyelights glimmering with mischief, Twist decided that he was done teasing. He licked away the mana beading on Cash’s pubic symphysis, tasting salt and sweat and something uniquely Cash. Cash’s foot curled over his shoulders, heel driving into his scapula. Twist smirked but didn’t relent. Still sucking at his pubic symphysis, he dragged a finger down the inside of Cash’s sacrum, claw catching on the foramina. Cash howled, glaring down at him, eyelight blown wide. Holding his gaze, Twist said, “You wanna shut me up so badly, why don’ ya give me sumthin’ else ta do with my mouth, yeah?”

The words alone were enough for Cash’s cock to manifest, the construct already hard. “That’ll do, love.” Twist winked as a purple flush spread across the good half of Cash’s face. He scowled, but before he could say anything, Twist gripped the base of his cock and licked the head.

“fuck—!” Cash’s hips rocked, and Twist smirked. His bones were hot under his hand, and faintly flushed with magic. Using mana to cushion his teeth, Twist took him fully into his mouth and sucked hard—only for Cash to buck into his mouth, driving the head against a spot at the back of his throat. Twist pulled off, laughing and coughing at the same time. He glanced at Cash, ready to tease him for it, but Cash’s free hand was clutching at the blankets like he thought he was going to fall off the bed if he didn’t have a good grip, and his socket was wide, the eyelight dilated.

He'd tease him about it later, then. A different sort of teasing was needed now.

Twist resettled his position, adjusting so he had a better grip on Cash’s hips. He pushed them down, holding him steady, and tried again. This time he was prepared for the sudden thrust and held him securely against the mattress as he swallowed around his length. Cash whined, digging his heel into Twist’s back as Twist started to bob his head. Twist looked up toward him, pausing his rhythm just long enough to catch Cash’s eyelight. Gaze caught, he reached into his own chest and tweaked Cash’s soul.

The sound he made went straight to Twist’s cock. He bypassed it as he sat up, though, reaching instead for his pussy. Already wet, he was able to slide two fingers inside with ease.

He dragged his gaze over them, committing the sight to memory. The glow of mana at each node, the faint flush across Cash’s sternum and collarbones. Slim’s soul, weeping prettily behind the cage of Cash’s ribs. Slim beside him, gripping one hand and bending toward him, ready to share a kiss or a murmured word. Twist’s soul hung heavy in his ribcage, dull and unlit, but Slim’s nimble fingers ran over its surface with reverence it didn’t deserve. Twist swallowed hard.

 If this was all he’d be allowed, then he’d hoard every detail like a treasure.

“Ya look good like tha’,” he told them, working on sliding another finger in. His other hand gripped Cash’s soul, pressing his thumb into the pliant surface. Mana dripped down his hand, trailing in a line down his arm. He could feel it painting his spine and sacrum too, saw the affect it had on Cash and Slim, saw how their gazes caught and held on him. He grinned. “See somethin’ ya wan’, darlin’?”

When Cash started to sit up, Twist crawled forward to hold him in place. “Don’ worry, love. I’ll come ta you.”

Slim signed, “cum for him, too?”

“Dunno.” He settled over Cash’s hips, giving him a considering look as he  gripped his cock. “Think ya c’n get me there, Patches?”

Cash sputtered. “why would you—? of course i—” He grabbed Twist’s cock, his grip just on the right side of pleasure and pain. “you summoned your dick. of course i can make you cum, jackass.”

Sinking slowly onto his length, Twist moaned, feeling his walls stretch around him. “But ya wouldn’t be as—” He exhaled, rocking his hips as he hit a sweet spot. “—confident if I jus’ had my pussy? You a minute man, darlin’?” His grin widened when Cash growled, sitting up to grab him by his hips. Slim eased into place behind Cash, shoulders shaking with muted laughter.

“i’m not a—” He growled again, glaring at Twist. “fucking show you,” he muttered under his breath, pulling him down hard. The air left Twist’s thoracic cavity all at once, his cunt twitching around Cash’s length.

His head bowed forward as he moaned, arms looped over Cash’s shoulders. “Oh, tha’s good, sweetheart. Fuckin’ perfect fit, love.” He adjusted his hips, clenching down. “Fuck, tha’s nice.”

Cash had lost his glare, breath hitching. His claws scratched at Twist’s hipbones when he clenched down, and a little whine escaped him. “fuck,” he said, voice hoarse. Slim looped his arms around his waist from behind, resting his chin on Cash’s shoulder. Twist ran a thumb over his cheekbone, fingers following the curve of his jaw. Exhaling, Slim leaned into his hand, kissing his palm.

When Twist pulled away to adjust his hold on Cash, Slim kissed along Cash’s cervical vertebrae, nibbling at the transverse processes. “fuck,” he said again. He squeezed his sockets shut, his ribcage hitching. Twist flexed his legs, readying himself. Cash’s hands clutched at him, scrabbling over his rib bones. “wait. wait. i gotta—”

“Ain’t gotta do nuthin’, love. Jus’ enjoy the ride.”

Another sound escaped him, something between a whimper and a moan, as Twist rose up on his haunches and dropped back into his lap. His rhythm was unsteady at first, but he found it soon enough. “There we go,” he said, and Cash made a sound like he’d been gutted, ragged and needy. Twist’s hand rested on his ribcage, gripping the bone to keep his balance. The other slipped inside to toy with Slim’s soul.

Behind Cash, Slim curled around him, toes flexing as Twist thumbed the crease. His hand shot out, signing, “more yes more more yes yes yes.”

“Greedy,” Twist said, but rolled Slim’s soul into his hand, flexing his fingers over its surface. Mana spirted from the tip, spraying the inside of Cash’s ribs and spine. The heat of it made Cash shout, rocking up to meet Twist’s downward thrust. “Feel good?” he asked them, his voice teasing.

Cash buried his face in Twist’s neck, clutching at his ribcage. “you know it—fuck—feels good,” he tried to snap, but his voice was hoarse and each exhalation ended with a little whine. “stars, i can’t—i want—”

Still rolling his fingers over Slim’s soul, still rocking into Cash, he asked, “Whaddaya wan’, sweetheart? Jus’ name it an’ it’s yours.”

Cash gasped, chest hitching. For a moment, Twist saw tears in Cash’s sockets, but then he reburied his face in Twist’s throat, and his grip turned sharp. “you,” he growled, “i want you.” Sudden heat rolled through Cash’s soul, and Twist was struck by the pang of / NEED / that emanated from it. Claws scraped at his ribs, and Twist choked on a gasp, clenching around Cash. A hand closed over his cock, and he cried out as Slim started to pump.

“Shit, sweetheart, tha’s—fuck, yes. Jus’ like that. Jus’ like—” He readjusted himself, pace quickened. Cash buried his teeth in Twist’s collarbone, bruising it, and he yelped again, chanting “yes yes yes”. An echo of Slim’s silent litany. “Ya with me?” he asked, so close he could feel his channel pulsing. “Ya with me, darlin’? ‘Cause I’m—”

Cash screamed, raking his claws down Twist’s back as he came. Hot mana flooded his cunt, but Twist rode him through his orgasm, and it dripped from between his femurs, painting Cash’s pelvis. Slim’s teasing hand tightened over him, his strokes growing firmer and faster. Twist groaned as he came, and gold mana mingled with the two shades of purple already painting their bones.

For a while, they stayed like that, bones intertwined and bodies folded around each other. Twist knew he needed to get up, to get them wiped down before the mana turned tacky, needed to push water and food on them before they tried for another round. But he couldn’t bring himself to let go, sockets stinging as Cash’s admission echoed through him.

Want you too, darlin’. Both ‘a ya. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, but his soul ached for them. He could feel it reaching, as if love alone could overcome the hardened exterior and the twisted knot of thorns that lined it.

Maybe, if that was the only barrier to overcome, it could have.

Chapter Text

“did, uh, did twist say where cash’s parked?” Red asked, walking alongside Papyrus.

“HM. NO. HE DID NOT.”

Red grunted, unimpressed. “right. ‘course not. that’d make this easy.”

Papyrus’ hands fluttered, then he looked up at the sky and out over the water before turning his dazzling smile on Red. “AT LEAST IT’S A NICE DAY OUT! CLEAR SKIES—AND JUST LOOK AT THE OCEAN!” He propped his hands on his hips and made a show of breathing deeply of the ocean air.

Red grunted, scuffing his shoes over the dirty sidewalk. “too windy fer clouds,” he said, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. “too bad it don’ carry away the smell ‘a fish.”

Papyrus went quiet beside him as he allowed his arms to hang limp. They walked in silence for a few steps, then he cleared his throat. “I APPRECIATE YOUR HELP, CHERRY. BUT YOU DON’T HAVE TO STAY IF YOU DON’T WANT TO. I’M SURE I CAN FIND WEALTHY-ME’S CAR ON MY OWN. THANK YOU FOR THE RIDE OUT HERE, THOUGH.”

Red paused, looking up at Papyrus and seeing now the strain around his smile. “i—” He thought about Boss and Twist, considered what both of them had told him, and realized he was being an ass. “nah,” he said, toeing the sidewalk. “jus’ thought ya might be cold is all. wind’s gotta cut right through ya.” He nodded toward Papyrus’ thin t-shirt and his short-shorts. “d’ya….” He swallowed. “ya wanna borrow my jacket?”

Papyrus’ expression cleared, those subtle signs of strain disappearing. Red’s soul gave a strange, stuttering beat in response. “THANK YOU, BUT I’M QUITE COMFORTABLE—THIS IS NOTHING COMPARED TO SNOWDIN. I APPRECIATE THE OFFER, THOUGH.” Red’s soul warmed, and he felt his cheekbones growing hot under Papyrus’ pleased expression.

He looked away, only daring quick glances at his companion. “alright. if, uh, if ya change yer mind, jus’ lemme know, okay?”

They kept walking, checking the visitors’ lots as they passed—Cash would never have parked on the street. The silence was more comfortable now, though Red was anxious to fill it, even if he wasn’t sure what to say. Papyrus liked jokes and word-play as much as any skeleton, but he had high standards for both—and he was Tale-verse too, so most of Red’s jokes wouldn’t be appreciated. They saw each other too often for small talk to be a good option, and Papyrus was too much like Boss to be engaged by pointless social niceties anyway.

Which left meaningful conversation as the only viable option, and he couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than that. So he continued to kick rocks and mentally run through—and reject—various conversation starters. Until Papyrus asked, “WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT TARANTELLA?”

He tripped but recovered quickly. “uh, kinda fast, ain’t it? lottsa footwork—”

Papyrus gave him a disappointed look. “CHERRY.”

Red hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “not thinkin’ ‘a takin’ up dancin’, huh?”

Sighing, Papyrus said, “NO. I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE DANCE.” He mercifully left the ‘as you very well know’ unsaid.

Red glanced at him, trying to decide how much to tell him and how much to hold back. There were things the Fell-verse monsters didn’t discuss in polite company, and Papyrus was extremely polite. “uh, not much. twist ain’t really said anythin’ ‘bout her—”

“AH, YES. AND I’M SURE YOU WERE EXTREMELY RESPECTFUL OF HIS BOUNDARIES AND DIDN’T TRY TO TALK UP THE TWIST-VERSE MONSTERS FOR INFORMATION.” Red stopped and stared up at Papyrus, who just looked back at him with his constant smile. “AND I’M DOUBLY SURE YOU WEREN’T GOING TO SHARE YOUR FINDINGS WITH EDGY-ME AND SMALL-ME.” Again, he left the ‘and say nothing to the rest of us’ mercifully unspoken.

Red swore softly and started walking again. “ta be fair, i ain’t had much time fer diggin’,” he grumbled. “only jus’ found out she made it ta the surface. an’ there ain’t too many twist-verse monsters tha’ wanna talk—‘bout either of ‘em.” Not a few of them simply blanched and walked away before he could even ask a question. Everyone knew the skeletons stuck together, and apparently, that was enough for most Twist-verse monsters to steer clear of him. Some of the Snowdin monsters were more willing, but they went quiet and pale as soon as he mentioned Ella. “was gonna head ta boris’ place tanight. see if some booze’d loosen ‘em up.” Papyrus was quiet beside him, and Red looked his way, suddenly suspicious. “so? wha’d you bring ta show an’ tell?”

The faint flush that spread across Papyrus’ cheekbones and the way he straightened his spine, head held stiff, assured Red that he’d guessed correctly. Papyrus cleared his throat, and Red had the unique experience of getting to watch someone else decide how much information to share and how much to hold back. He understood, now, why Papyrus found it so annoying. “I THINK THEY USED TO WORK FOR HER,” he finally said, speaking with greater care than usual. “AND I DON’T THINK IT WAS A PLEASANT EXPERIENCE.”

Red snorted. He and Boss had a similar history with their Muffet. ‘Unpleasant’ was something of an understatement. “yeah. tha’s about what I know too.”

After a little while, Papyrus lowered his voice and added, “She found him at Cerulean’s. We were meeting there to talk about ‘Berry’s heat plan, and she interrupted us.”

Red nodded. He knew that. He also knew there had to be more going on if Twist was considering bartering with Boris to get rid of her. Not that he was going to tell Papyrus that. “ya think she followed ‘im there?”

Papyrus exhaled slowly. “I’m…I’m not sure. Maybe.” He paused, looking out over the water. “I think we should bring this to the embassy. It might turn out to be nothing, but it’s upsetting both Twist and Blackberry. We need to make sure they feel safe up here.”

Red froze. “ya don’ think they’d jus’ send twist an’ ella both back underground if we tell ‘em there’s a problem?”

Blinking, Papyrus looked down at him. He shook his head. “NO! OF COURSE—OF COURSE NOT! WHY WOULD THEY—?” He swallowed, chest hitching as he watched the waves crash against the pier. “They wouldn’t.”

“‘s twist’s life, creampuff. we can’t fuck around with it.”

Papyrus took a slow, deep inhale. “IF SHE IS HARASSING HIM, THEN WHAT ELSE CAN WE DO?” Red stayed silent, knowing Papyrus wouldn’t appreciate his—very Fell-verse—answer. Looking at him, Papyrus sighed. “Not that.”

Red just shrugged, scuffing the pavement again. “then what?”

After a beat, he said, “Why don’t we talk to Undyne? She’ll know what to do.”

Red wished he shared Papyrus’ optimism, but he reluctantly nodded. “alright. ‘least she won’ send ‘im back without askin’ a few questions first. an’ she knows how ta keep her mouth shut too.”

“EXCELLENT!” He hesitated a moment. “WOULD YOU COME WITH ME? TO TALK TO HER.”

“uh. yeah. sure. if ya think it’d help.”

Papyrus beamed at him. “THANK YOU, CHERRY.” Then he fished Cash’s keys out of his pocket and pressed a button. About a block away, a car alarm started blaring. “FOUND IT!” Papyrus said, pivoting toward the sound.

Red opened his mouth, shut it, then started snickering. Papyrus smiled at him from over his shoulder, the corners of his sockets crinkling. Struck by that grin, Red’s soul gave a hard thump, and he found himself saying, “hey, uh—pap?” before he could stop himself.

“YES?”

His mouth was bone-dry, but his hands felt damp. He swallowed. “d’ya wanna…?” His soul beat fast now. “drink? c-coffee or-or a—i dunno, whatever ya wan’. sumtime. with-with me.” He immediately wished he could claw the words back, especially when Papyrus just stared at him blankly. “uh, ya know what? neve’mind. yer busy, yeah? s’okay—i know the embassy’s gotcha runnin’ ragged. so, uh, jus’-jus’ ferget i said anythin’.”

His expression fell. “O-OH. UM. ALRIGHT. THAT’S…THAT’S TOO BAD. BECAUSE I THOUGHT MAYBE YOU WERE ASKING ME OUT FOR COFFEE. AND I WOULD HAVE LIKED THAT VERY MUCH, BUT I UNDERSTAND IF—”

“wait. wait—ya wanna? with me?”

“IF YOU’RE ASKING.”

Red took a breath to steady himself. “yeah. yeah, ‘m askin’.”

Papyrus smiled softly. “WELL, THEN. THAT WOULD BE LOVELY.” As he turned toward the car, he added, “IT’S PROBABLY BEST TO MEET FOR COFFEE BEFORE ASKING SOMEONE TO BE YOUR HEAT PARTNER, ANYWAY.”

Red tripped over his own feet, nearly face-planting at Papyrus’ words. “uh—w-wha’d ya say?”

“HMM? OH, DO YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT NOW, OR WAIT FOR OUR COFFEE DATE?”

Heat rose to his cheekbones. He tried to clarify, realized he wasn’t really sure what he actually meant to say and only managed a feeble, “so it’s? ‘s a date?”

Papyrus cocked his head. “OH—ERM. I GUESS I JUST ASSUMED….” He took a deep breath, then turned to fully face Red. “I WOULD LIKE IT TO BE A DATE. BUT—” He swallowed. “—but only if you want it to be too.” He fiddled with his scarf, fingers picking at the yarn, though he doggedly tried to maintain his posture and smile despite his nerves.

Red was suddenly irrationally angry with himself for giving Papyrus any reason to feel like he might be rejected. He swallowed and drew on the courage that had enabled him to survive in a world of kill or be killed. “yeah. yeah, i’d, uh…i’d like it ta be. a date, i mean.”

His bravery was rewarded with a broad, beaming smile. “GREAT!” Only after they got into the car and pulled away from the lot did Papyrus say, “YOU NEVER ANSWERED MY QUESTION, YOU KNOW.”

Red’s soul was hammering with a mix of elation and anxiousness. It took him a moment to register what Papyrus had said. “which one?”

“YOU DIDN’T TELL ME WHETHER YOU WANTED TO TALK ABOUT OUR HEAT PLANS AT COFFEE, OR IF YOU WANTED TO DO IT NOW.”

Red opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “i.” He couldn’t quite manage more than that.

Papyrus glanced at him, and his mouth softened a little. “Maybe we should do it now,” he suggested gently. Red looked out the window, wishing that the law of inertia didn’t apply to teleportation. Unfortunately, if he attempted a shortcut now, his body would continue speeding along at thirty miles per hour with no way to safely stop.

As if Papyrus could read his mind, the car began to pick up speed as he turned onto the freeway. Red settled back in his seat, fiddling with the seatbelt. Despite making the suggestion, Papyrus didn’t say anything either, both of them sitting in silence as he skillfully weaved through traffic. Red swallowed, realizing that Papyrus was giving him the chance to agree—or to change the subject. But that flash of nervousness he’d displayed was too recent in Red’s mind for him to take the easy way out.

He liked Papyrus. More than liked him, maybe—or was quickly on his way down that road. And despite all logic, Papyrus seemed to like him back. Red could hardly believe that the world could be so kind, but he knew that the feelings between them were still new and fragile. And even if he came from a softer world, Papyrus had his own wounds. If Red kept pushing him away, kept avoiding him, then Papyrus would eventually read it as rejection rather than cowardice. And whatever chance he had—whatever chance they had could be lost.

So, Red swallowed and took a deep breath. “right,” he said, voice scratchy, “whaddaya wanna talk ‘bout?”

Papyrus’ shoulders loosened, and his smile returned in full force. “WELL, I WAS WONDERING WHAT YOUR HEAT PLANS WERE.”

Despite being prepared for the question, it still caused his soul to twist. “i, uh. i guess i hadn’ thought ‘bout it much.”

Papyrus glanced at him, brow-bones furrowed. He started to say something, shook his head, and then went quiet for a bit. After a few beats, he finally said, “It’s okay to be nervous, you know. Everyone is their first time. But, um, it’s much better to have a plan laid out in advance—”

Red snorted. “what’s there ta plan, huh? ‘s jus’ fuckin’. been fucked an’ been fucked over plen’y ‘a times—ain’t like this’ll be much diff’rent.” Besides, with stats like his, it wasn’t as if having his soul on display made him all that much more vulnerable. Not physically, at least.

Papyrus glanced at him, fingers drumming on the steering wheel when he refocused on the road. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” he said, “but it’s really more about emotional intimacy than it is about—” Red sank down in his seat, only just resisting the urge to cover his acoustic meati. Still, Papyrus must have picked up on his discomfort because he grew quiet again. Only a soft, “oh” escaped him.

They passed several cars in silence, and Red leaned forward to jab at the radio, silently cursing himself. Finally, Papyrus said, “I’m beginning to think we didn’t do a good job of explaining things at the start.”

Red shook his head with a sigh, sitting back when he found a station playing ‘Gangster’s Paradise’. “nah,” he said, “ya ‘xplained it fine. ‘s why everyone’s so freaked out.”

“Everyone?”

Red glanced at him and huffed. “boss’s such a control freak there’s no way he ain’t losin’ it a little—but he’s got rus, at least.” And he definitely wouldn’t want his older brother poking his nasal ridge into it, even if he was upset. “ya know how ‘berry’s takin’ it. an’ twist’s half-sure his lv’s gonna make ‘im too unpredictable ta get help fr’m any ‘a us. cash an’ razz’re so repressed, who fuckin’ knows what they’re even thinkin’. but razz ‘least had sans.”

He snorted. “think slim’s the only one who didn’ seem too panicked.” But Slim was comfortable being vulnerable with the people he cared about—he’d been sub to his Muffet’s domme for years. Red wasn’t even surprised he’d ended up bedding down with Cash and Twist for the week; if anyone could get those two to dislodge their skulls from their pelvises, it was Slim.

“And you?”

Red went very still. “what about me?” he asked gruffly.

“You went through everyone else, but you haven’t said a word about yourself. How are you taking it?”

He looked out the window. “tol’ja,” he said, “been fucked b’fore. ain’t a big deal.”

They drove in silence for a bit. “Well, I’m rather nervous myself.”

Red glanced at him. “ya are?”

“Oh, yes.” He nodded, keeping his gaze on the road. “Things are different now. Everything’s changed—for the better, of course! But….” He sighed. “I’m not really sure what to do for my heat this year. Undyne is in a relationship, and I don’t want to step on Alphys’ toes. And…” He sighed. “There’s an expectation most monsters have, when you ask them to mind you during your heat. I’m…I don’t think there’s anyone I’d be ready to be sexually intimate with, but….” He glanced at Red. “There’s someone I would like to spend that time with.”

Red swallowed. “yer askin’…?”

“If you’d be willing. I-I know it’s a lot to ask, especially since—well, I’m afraid it won’t be…what you’re expecting. So, it’s okay to say no—I…I still want to go to coffee with you. I completely understand if you don’t—”

“i’ll do it.” He swallowed. “i’ll mind ya.”

“—want to look after me without getting anything out of it yourself—”

“creampuff, i said yes.”

“You—? You will?”

“yeah. said i’d look after ya.”

“Oh. Okay. Um. We can…we can go over details when we get coffee, then.”

“an’….” Red swallowed. “…wouldja do the same fer me?”

Papyrus hesitated, and Red’s soul squeezed. “I would—I will! But…you may not want me to.” He kept his gaze fixed on the road, and Red wondered if this was easier for him, not having to look at Red while he talked. “I like you, Cherry. And-and I want to-to pursue those feelings. But I move…slowly. Which means that—while I would be happy to see you through your heat—I’m not comfortable….”

“jumpin’ my bones?”

Papyrus gave him a look and a sigh but didn’t take the bait. “Not yet,” he said crisply. “I’m interested in you. I want to go to coffee—and maybe start dating after that. Regardless of those plans, though, I understand if you’d rather ask someone else to be your heat partner.”

Red stared at him. “…ya won’…?”

“You should be comfortable during your heat. For most monsters, that means physical intimacy. I don’t….” He huffed. “I can’t provide that right now, so I understand if you’d prefer to ask someone who can.” The car slowed and stopped, and Papyrus turned to meet his gaze.

Red swallowed. “ain’t many monsters i’d trust with my soul. yer one of ‘em. we don’ gotta fuck, but…if yer willin’, yer the one i’d wan’ with me fer this.”

“Are you sure? Even though I can’t….” His cheekbones flushed a soft orange. “That’s okay?”

“yeah. s’okay. know you’ll, uh…” He felt his face grow hot. “take care ‘a me.”

Papyrus reached out and laid a hand on the back of Red’s neck, holding his gaze. “That I can do,” he said, his words like a promise. His hand was hot on Red’s cervical vertebrae, and he felt himself instinctively lifting his chin to allow him better access. Papyrus’ thumb swept over his jawbone, heat trailing in its wake. Then he cleared his throat, the spell broken as he pulled away. “ERM. I SUPPOSE WE SHOULD HEAD INSIDE.” Red blinked, belatedly remembering why they were at the embassy.

“right. yeah. le’s, uh…le’s go.”

Inside, there was no sign of Undyne or Hook. Neither of them were comfortable behind a desk, so Red raised a brow-bone when the attendant at the front desk said they were both in Hook’s office. The brow-bone crept higher when they saw the door was closed.

Undeterred, Papyrus knocked briskly and asked, “UNDYNE? ARE YOU—”

The door was yanked open, and they were both dragged inside. Red blinked, looking around. Ordinarily, Hook’s office seemed comfortably sized, but the presence of two fish monsters, one oversized skeleton, one ‘fun-sized’ skeleton, and two humans made it feel rather cramped. He focused on the humans immediately, the back of his neck prickling when he sensed DETERMINATION bleeding off one of them. A war mage. And not a baby war mage like the kid—full grown, this one, and fully trained. He Checked her immediately, wondering how much LOVE she’d gained.

“Easy,” Hook said, watching his eyelight flare. “She’s retired. She’s also Twist’s boss.”

The mage eyed him and Papyrus. “You’re…relatives?”

“’s complicated,” Red said, while Papyrus said, “OH, NO. WE’RE NOT RELATED—JUST FRIENDS.”

She nodded. “Good. Maybe you can help with something.”

Red reached out, squeezing Papyrus’ arm before he could promise to help her however he could. “what kinda help d’ya need?” he asked cautiously, glancing between Hook and the mage.

She crossed her arms, revealing an elaborate sleeve of tattoos. “A lady came to visit the shop today. A Spider monster.” Papyrus straightened, but Red squeezed his hand hard, hoping he’d stay quiet. Still, the mage looked them over, nodding to herself. “You know her.” It wasn’t a question.

Papyrus looked down at Red, obviously picking up on his unease. Undyne cleared her throat. “Why don’t you tell them what you told us,” she said to the humans.

Their story wasn’t especially alarming in isolation, but it had obviously put the two humans ill at ease. “So,”  the mage said, “She tracked him down on Saturday and again today. And we know they’ve got a history.  It can’t just be a coincidence.”

Papyrus looked to Red, trying to communicate using only his brow-bones. Red squeezed his hand again, willing him to stay quiet. Lifting his chin, he eyed the war mage. “an’ if there’s a problem? whaddaya gonna do ‘bout it?”

The mage looked between them, then she seemed to realize what Red was worried about. “Listen, kid—” He bristled, though the mage didn’t seem to notice. “—this isn’t our first rodeo. We’ve had to close ranks around our own before. And we know that some people are good at manipulating appearances. Twist needs friends right now—people willing to back him up if this gets taken to the courts.”

“…So—” Red glared at Papyrus, but it didn’t deter him. “—you don’t want to send him back?”

The mage’s mouth hardened. “No one in this room wants to see him sent back. That’s why he needs allies.”

Hook nodded. “Yeah, especially since Scales won’t vouch for him if it comes to that.”

“BUT SHE’S HIS ‘VERSE’S JUDGE! SHE MUST KNOW WHAT KIND OF MONSTER HE IS.”

Undyne cleared her throat and refused to meet Pap’s hopeful eyelights. “She, uh…she seems to think he’s a different kind of monster than we do.” She looked to Red. “Having another Judge vouch for him might help, though.”

“he’ll have three, fer what it’s worth. but, uh…we’re obviously pretty biased. dunno how much help it’ll be.”

“That’s fine,” the other human said. “Having people willing to stand with him is going to be a huge help no matter how he wants to proceed.”

The mage nodded. “Getting ahead of things before this Ella person has a chance to spin it is a good first step. You have my witness statement from this morning?”

Undyne nodded. “Right here.” She tapped her phone then eyed Papyrus. “Actually…do you have a minute, Pap? We’ve got the police report from Saturday, but I’d like to get your take on what happened, since they didn’t bother to get your statement.”

“OH—OF COURSE.”

Undyne ushered him out of the room, asking, “What’d you come down here for anyway? I thought you had the week off….” The door shut, but Red could still faintly hear his voice through the wood.

“You’ll keep us informed?” the mage asked, looking at Hook.

“Yeah. And if anything happens at the shop—”

“You’ll be my first call. C’mon, Mel. Lunch break’s almost over, and I still want to take you to that bakery.”

The door shut behind them, and Red eyed Hook. “…you trust ‘em?”

“The humans?” Hook eyed the door, then gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Much as I trust anyone, at least.”

“even the mage?”

“Especially the mage. She’s the one who helped us set up some of the rehabilitation programs for monsters with high LV. Besides, without her, I don’t think they’d have let Trouble up top. She’s serious about helping at least.”

Red grunted, not ready to be convinced but unwilling to argue. “right. welp, ya know how ta find me—”

“Wait.”

Red eyed her, brow-bone cocked. But Hook looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. She scratched at the place her prosthetic joined flesh, running her claw over the seam. “You, uh…you talked to your bro lately?”

Red’s soul gave an odd pulse. “this mornin’. why?”

She exhaled through her nose, looking out the window. “He seem okay to you?”

“the fuck’s tha’ s’pposed ta mean?”

Her good eye narrowed. “Calm down. It’s just a question.”

He snorted. “like hell it is. what happened?”

Looking skyward, she muttered something under her breath and finally said, “Look, he just seemed a little off, alright?” Glaring at her, Red started to dig out his cell phone. “What are you doing?”

“callin’ ‘im.”

She snorted. “He’s a little busy right now.” When Red just glared at her, she added, “Rus’ in heat, asshole.”

Red nearly dropped his phone. “what?”

Hook looked him up and down, nodding to herself. “You too, huh?”

“whaddaya mean by tha’?” He tried to keep his voice gruff, but it cracked at the end, revealing his anxiety.

“Means you look about as freaked out as he did.” She looked away again, arms crossed. “He really seemed okay this morning?”

Red stared at her, then mentally reviewed the morning. “yeah. think so.” But he hadn’t been looking too close, and Boss could be hard to read. “he didn’ seem okay ta you?”

She shrugged. “…I don’t know. I just—” Her mouth thinned and her brows knit close. “It’s probably nothing. He’s just upset about this whole heat business. This shit with Twist and Ella probably isn’t helping either.”

“yeah. right.”

They were quiet for a few beats, then she said, “I texted Rus. Just in case.”

Red snorted, trying to remind himself that he liked Rus, trusted him with his own life. But it was much harder to trust him with his little brother’s. “…yer gonna look in on him once stretch’s heat’s over, right?”

She looked offended at the question. “Of course I am! Cripes. It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Despite himself, Red felt his soul ease a fraction. “good. b’tween the three ‘a us, we c’n prob’ly keep ‘im outta trouble.”

She nodded, though he noticed her normal bravado was entirely absent. “Right. Unless you got anything else, get the fuck outta here—I’ve got paperwork, and the gutter-rat isn’t here to do it for me.”

He shook his head, flipping her off as he went. And trying to shake away the creeping sense of dread she’d left him with.

Chapter Text

Edge landed heavily in the nest beside Rus. His soul felt like it was beating too hard, too fast, and he couldn’t hear anything over the rush of mana through his skull. He felt a hand grip his shoulder, but it seemed distant. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, but a wave of vertigo forced him to stillness. He lay in the nest, waiting regain control of his body.

The nest shifted and a hand touched his face. Rus. He said something, his words dim over the shoom-shoom-shoom of mana pulsing in his acoustic meati. Still blind, he fumbled for Rus’ hand, his soul easing a fraction when he felt a warm hand close around his. The darkness started to retreat, but he couldn’t immediately make sense of what he was seeing. It was like being upside down or underwater—nothing seemed right. He blinked a few times, forcing his eyelights to focus on the face above him.

“—okay? edge? edge?!”

“I’m—” He swallowed, trying to wave him off, though his joints felt loose and uncoordinated. “I’m fine. Just…dizzy.”

He started to sit up, despite a fresh wave of vertigo, but Rus pushed him back into the blanket nest and began rearranging the pillows. “cripes, don’t do that!”

Scowling, Edge tried to shove the blankets away, but he could feel a subtle tremor in his arms. “Stop fussing. I’m fine.”

Rus stared down at him, sockets wide and eyelights overbright. “like hell you are. i’m good, but i’m not ‘make my partner pass out’ good.” He pulled back, and Edge felt a Check roll through him. He tried not to flinch under the scrutiny. “stars, your eyelights are barely lit—what happened?”

The desperation in his voice caused Edge to grow placid, letting Rus prop a pillow behind his head and tuck a blanket around him. “I’m fine,” he said again, more calmly now. “I just….” His throat clicked as he swallowed. “I must not be fully recovered from my illness.” It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either—not exactly.

If he’d hoped to calm him, his words did the opposite. Rus’ sockets went wide and his breath caught. “oh, stars. you—” He swore under his breath. “i completely forgot. you should have told me you weren’t feeling—” He stopped, corrected himself. “no. i should have remembered. stars, edge. i’m so sorry. i was so worried about everything else, i wasn’t even thinking about that.”

Edge shook his head. “Rus, it’s fine. You’re—” His gaze dropped to his exposed soul, and he took a breath. “—indisposed right now. And preoccupied. Besides, I’m supposed to be looking after you. You even told me you wouldn’t be able to pick up on certain signals, so don’t beat yourself up about this. I was feeling fine.” He used his chin to point to the tray he’d brought. “An orange and some water, and I’ll be fine.”

Rus swallowed hard, his eyelights overbright. “you’re sure you’re okay? no dizziness? nausea?”

“No. That illness must have cut into my mana reserves more than I thought, that’s all.” Rus gave him an odd look, and Edge’s soul pulsed anxiously—was that not a normal thing to worry about after an illness? He cleared his throat, saying carefully, “Rus, I was feeling good. Until I wasn’t. It’s unreasonable to think you could have known better than I did myself.”

After a moment, Rus nodded, apparently willing to let himself be convinced. “okay. but we’re taking it easy from here on out!” He turned to the tray to fetch food, and Edge couldn’t help but smirk.

“Not even if I ask you to play doctor?” He shifted a foot out from under the blanket to tease it over Rus’ thighbone.

Rus inhaled slowly, shifting away from his foot and pushing the orange into his hand. “trust me, precious, if i thought a little dose of vitamin d would do the trick, i’d be happy to provide.” Edge made a face at the vulgar joke. “but i think what you really need is rest. okay?”

Edge huffed, peeling the fruit. “You’re terrible at role-play.”

Rus settled overtop him, resting his head in Edge’s lap and folding his arms around his hips. “well, i think fainting in the middle of sex might be a bit much for role-play.”

“I didn’t faint. I just grayed out. There’s a difference.”

“not from where i’m sitting. laying. whatever.” He burrowed close, scenting his hip and thigh through the blanket. “stars, edge. do you want to call a doctor or something? doc could—”

“No.” His soul felt like it was encased in ice. “I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.”

“you’re sure?”

“Yes,” he said, trying not to hiss. “Some food and rest is all I need.”

Rus nodded, a soft purr building in his chest as he rested his cheekbone on Edge’s thigh. “you know, it is past lunchtime—i’m getting pretty hungry myself. why don’t i get us some sandwiches or something while you rest?”

He frowned. “You don’t need to do that. Give me a minute, and I can make us something.”

Rus tilted his skull so he could meet Edge’s eyelight. “c’mon. i can manage a sandwich. and we just decided you need to rest.”

Edge sighed, looking down at him. “Are you going to put something weird in it again?”

“hey, there’s nothing weird about pickles and peanut butter. it’s a classic combo—”

“Okay, no. I will make lunch.” He started to stand, but Rus just clung tighter to his hips. He sighed. “Rus.”

“let me do this for you?” His voice was small and soft. Edge paused, hesitating a moment before he rested his hand on Rus’s skull. His purring grew louder as Edge ran his fingers over the back of his neck, scratching at his cervical vertebrae. His sockets slipped shut and he nuzzled close, cat-like.

“Rus…?”

He exhaled, turning his face toward Edge’s thigh and nuzzling into him. “i wanted this to be good for you too,” he murmured, arms tight around his hips. “i know you’re nervous about yours—” Edge’s soul skipped a beat. “—and i wanted you to see that this didn’t have to be a bad thing. that it could be nice. good, even.”

Edge swallowed. “I’m sorry for disrupting your plans,” he said, voice soft.

Rus snorted, looking up at him. “you’re sick, edgelord—that’s not something to apologize for. you didn’t do it on purpose.” His soul clenched, and he looked away. “besides, maybe it’s for the best. how else am i supposed to keep you in bed for a week, huh?” He started chuckling then, and Edge raised a brow-bone.

“What?”

“nothing, just—if i have to trigger a heat to get you to rest when you’re sick, i’m going to develop some weird kinks.”

Edge huffed and rolled his sockets, but he continued to lightly scratch Rus’ cervical vertebrae. “Weirder than that time you called me—?”

A bright flush spread over his features and he buried his face in the blankets. “youpromisedwewouldn’ttalkaboutthat.”

Edge snorted, a fond smile tugging at his mouth. “That I did.” They were quiet for a few moments, simply enjoying each other’s company despite the tense situation. Edge’s soul warmed. “What are you going to put on the sandwiches, then? Tell me everything, please. I don’t like surprises in my food.” That was a gross understatement.

Rus looked up at him. “well…i hear ham and peanut butter is—”

“Rus.”

He grinned. “ham, cheese, mayo, lettuce. that sound good to you, edgelord?”

“…Exactly what kind of cheese?” He wasn’t sure why that was funny, but it made Rus laugh all the same. And Edge couldn’t be upset about that. After Rus finished describing his sandwich-making plans—in enough detail that Edge knew he was being teased for being so finicky—Edge nodded and finished eating the orange. “Alright, you can make the food. If—” He held up a finger. “—you promise not to improvise or otherwise deviate from what you’ve said.”

Rus shifted onto his hands and knees to kiss the tip of his upraised finger, grinning as he did. “promise,” he said, lowering his head to kiss the side of his hand and then his wrist and then—He shook his skull, swearing softly. “sorry. heat-brain. i’ll be back with food.” He pulled away from the bed, grabbing his phone as he went.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands.” He didn’t respond to that as he left the room, so Edge sat up, projecting his voice so it would carry out the door. “Rus, don’t forget—”

“hands! i heard!”

Edge flopped backward into the nest with a sigh. Only then did he become aware of the slight stickiness of spent mana on his hands and pelvis. He made a face, shifting out of the nest so he could get cleaned up. As he stood, he paused, feeling slightly lightheaded as he rose. He shook it off and entered the bathroom. Hot water would only make his lightheadedness worse, so he opted for cold when he turned the water on.

He swore at himself as he stepped under the spray, shuddering when the icy water hit him. How could he have miscalculated so badly? He was lucky Rus was the only one around to see—what if he’d greyed out in public? Or around Hook or the runt? He pressed his forehead to the wall, mentally reviewing his energy expended and energy consumed. He’d thought he wouldn’t need as much now since he wasn’t relying on his magic as heavily. But he was older, now—taller and broader. And his body had become accustomed to getting regular meals.

His sockets shut, bones starting to tremble as the cold sank into his marrow. He used to have such tight control over his body, his magic, but he’d grown complacent. Comfortable. And that was the real problem, wasn’t it? Papyrus had practically said as much at the beginning.

He grit his teeth, willing his bones to stillness despite the chill spreading through him. His sockets opened and he began to briskly clean himself.

He had to be more careful. He couldn’t let anyone else see those hints of weakness. His calculations were right, but his body hadn’t adjusted yet. It was rebelling, that’s all. He’d quelled it before. He could do it again.

It was the enemy here. He couldn’t forget that.

He shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, drying himself off as he fought not to shiver. The cold water had helped with the lightheadedness at least—his legs no longer felt weak at the knees. In the bedroom, he slipped his sweats back on before climbing into the nest of blankets. The moment he was settled, Rus appeared in the door, a plate of sandwiches in hand. Edge expected a quip or a comment, but he just stood in the doorway, looking at him.

Edge raised a brow-bone. “Are you waiting for an invitation?”

Rus’ smiled, but it was limp around the edges. “heh. yeah, uh…” He too seemed to be searching for a joke, but he just finished with another, “yeah” before sitting on the edge of the mattress.

Edge stared at him. His shoulders bowed inward, and he looked between the wall and the food and the floor, as if he couldn’t quite find what he was searching for. Edge shift closer, reaching out to catch him by the shoulder. “Rus? Are you okay?”

He nodded. “yeah. fine. just—” He looked at Edge, catching his eyelights. “you’d tell me, right? if something was wrong?”

Edge raised a brow-bone. “…Is there something you’d like to talk about? That’s a rather odd—”

He held up his phone, and Edge froze, reading the latest message from Hook.

Make sure he’s eating.

His sockets went wide. “edge, why would she text me that?” He swallowed, and his gaze darted toward the door. Then Rus said, “edge,” and he knew that running wasn’t an option.

“I don’t….” The lie was like dust in his mouth. He couldn’t finish it. Instead, he shook his head. “I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse. Scratchy.

Rus took a breath. “you’re not sick, are you?”

He looked away. “…No.”

Rus’ exhalation was shuddering and unsteady. He pushed the plate of food into his hand. “we’ll talk about this after you eat.” Edge stared at the food, his soul knotted and anxious.

“I.” His throat felt tight. The thought of trying to chew, to swallow—it seemed impossible. He put the plate down. “I’d rather talk first.”

Rus shook his head. “i’m gonna need a minute, okay?” He sniffed, and Edge realized he was on the verge of tears. “i—stars.” He rubbed at his sockets. “fuck, edge—why would you…?” He exhaled slowly, trying to keep control of himself.

Hesitant, Edge reached for him, tucking him into his side. For a moment, Rus was stiff and still against him, then Edge felt his soul pulse with need and he melted into his side.

Idly, Edge wondered if he’d have pushed him away, if he’d had stormed out or left if he wasn’t in heat—and his anxiety spiked all over again. Rus was upset with him, but his heat forced him to seek comfort, even from the person who’d upset him in the first place.

Despite the guilt and anxiety the thought inspired, he still pulled Rus closer. He was a comfortable weight in his arms, solid and warm and real. His fingers crooked over Edge’s rib-bones, holding him tight, and he pressed his forehead to Edge’s clavicle, clinging. Edge folded over him, chin on his shoulder, arms around his ribcage, hands crossed over his spine. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He didn’t know what else to say, couldn’t fully verbalize what exactly he was sorry for. It was all he had to offer. “I’m so sorry."

Rus’ breath hitched and his hand slipped around him, holding tight. “it stops now,” he said, voice thick. “you’re not—this ends now, edge.” He didn’t respond at first, and Rus pulled back—still holding him, but now catching his eyelights too. “i’m not going to watch you starve yourself.” His voice broke as he said it.

“I’m not—” He shook his head. “I’m not starving myself.” That would be ridiculous.

“well that’s what it looks like from here!”

“I’m just…just buying time. That’s all. This isn’t meant to be forever. Just until….” He trailed off, not sure how to finish that thought.

Rus’ grip on him turned hard, desperate. “until when? until you—what? have to be hospitalized? because I’m this close to calling emergency services—”

“No!” He dropped his grip on Rus, instead wrapping a hard hand around his own thigh. “I don’t need—this isn’t an emergency! It’s fine! Everything is fine.” He swallowed. “I have everything under control.” His traitor body, his ugly soul.

A hand settled overtop his, gently peeling his hand away from his thigh. The bone was already flushed red with magic, his mana working to heal the bruises he’d left behind. Rus ran a thumb over them. Edge felt the tingle of healing magic, though it had no affect on him, blocked by the LV.

“precious,” he murmured, and Edge felt sick. That wasn’t a name meant for arguments. “why do you hurt yourself like this?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

Rus raised his hand toward his mouth, and Edge curled his fingers into a fist, struggling not to pull away. He didn’t deserve such a soft touch. Not now.

Rus just raised his eyelights, holding his gaze. “i love you.”

Edge felt choked. “you t—” He had been brave, earlier. He could be brave again. “I love you too.”

“good.” Rus looked back down at his hand, folding his fingers over Edge’s closed fist. Holding him, but not forcing him. “how would you react, if you discovered i hadn’t been eating for—?” He swallowed, breath hitching as he realized he didn’t know how long. “let’s say weeks,” he said, voice rough, “how would that make you feel?”

It felt like something was sitting on his chest. He could barely breathe. “It’s different,” he finally choked out.

Rus shook his head, pressing on. “would you feel good about that?”

“It’s different,” he said again, voice stronger. “You don’t—”

“i don’t what, edge? i don’t—what? why would you do this? why would you…?” He stared at him with glimmering eyelights, like he didn’t even recognize the monster across from him. “why?” he whispered.

“I’m sorry.” Edge couldn’t hold his gaze, couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t even look at their clasped hands. “I didn’t want to hurt you. You weren’t supposed to find out.”

“clearly.”

He winced, the word like a whip crack between them. Rus sighed. “sorry, sorry.” He dropped Edge’s hand to run his own over his skull. “this isn’t about me. i’m not trying to make it about me. i’m obviously hurt—i’m upset that you kept this from me, that you didn’t—” He shook his head. “but right now, i just want you to be okay. so let’s figure out how to get you some help, okay?”

Edge jerked away, climbing out of the nest. “No. This stays between us. I don’t need help. I am fine.”

“no you’re not! edge, you stopped eating. you let your mana reserves fall so low you fainted. that’s not okay! it’s not ‘fine’. and there’s nothing wrong with needing help! they have clinics for this type of thing, group thera—"

“I WILL NOT BE THE PUNCHLINE TO A BAD JOKE!” he snapped, regretting it when Rus flinched from him, bewildered. He took a few shuddering inhalations and bit out, “A skeleton? With an eating disorder?” He shook his head. “No. I refuse.”

Rus gaped at him, and Edge watched him flounder. Then the understanding crept in and he fell silent. After a beat, he said, “there are other options. something online. video calling, maybe. either way, your pride isn’t more important than your life.”

"I’m not dying. Don’t exaggerate.”

“and if i fainted on you during sex, you’d brush that off just as easily?”

His jaw worked, but no sound came out. Finally, he said, “It’s different.”

“it’s not.” He sounded resigned rather than argumentative. “it’s really not. but fine. we’ll keep it between us—for now. if you tell me why and let me at least try to fix it.” It was a fair request, but it still set his soul pounding. “edge, please. i just want to help. that’s all.”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Alright.” He settled on the edge of the mattress, and Rus sidled up beside him, draping a blanket over them both. Edge fiddled with the quilt’s border, fingering the satin-soft binding. “It was the only way I could think of,” he said softly. “I just—I wasn’t ready. I’m still not….” He cleared his throat. “It was just to buy some time, that’s all. To put it off until I was ready for it.”

“ready for what?” Edge looked at him, and understanding transformed his features. “your heat. you did this because—because of that?”

Edge shut his sockets and looked away, braced for Rus to brush off his concerns or to laugh at him. “Yes,” was all he said.

“stars. i knew you were nervous, but…i had no idea you were this upset about it.” His arm reached out, snagging Edge around the waist and pulling him close. “you didn’t say anything. i thought….” He tucked Edge into his side, folding around him protectively. “stars, edgelord, why didn’t you say anything?” A tear tinged orange with mana slipped down his cheekbone and landed on Edge’s hand.

“I just needed time,” Edge said, voice hoarse. “I thought I could—I thought I could hold it off. Just until I was ready. And…you were excited. It’s something you were looking forward to sharing. I didn’t want to-to…disappoint you. Or worry you.”

Rus made a harsh, unpleasant sound—tears and bitter laughter mixing. He didn’t pull away, though, only held him tighter. “well, mission failed. i’m definitely worried.” He swore under his breath.

“…Disappointed too?”

“no. stars.” He cleared his throat, pulling back just enough to look him in the socket. “i’m angry that i didn’t notice what you were doing to yourself. i’m upset that you weren’t comfortable talking to me about this. i’m—i’m fucking terrified that you think starving yourself to the point your normal bodily functions stop isn’t a big deal. i’m confused and scared and-and upset, but i’m not disappointed. stars, i’m not….” He sighed. “i was looking forward to spending time with you. bonding with you. that’s what heat is about. but not if you feel like you’re being forced into it.”

Edge seized on that. “But that’s how it works, isn’t it? I don’t get to choose. Not when it happens. Not even if it happens. It just happens, and I don’t have any control over it. I don’t get a say. My body just decides for me.” He could feel his soul start to beat harder and faster. “you really don’t find that frightening?”

“not even a little bit.” He kissed him on the forehead. “but i understand that you do. so, we’re going to tackle this together, alright?” He took a breath. “think of it like…prepping for a storm. we know it’s coming, even if we don’t know when. so, we plan it out, okay? like those emergency drills you came up with.”

Responding to the teasing note in his voice, Edge sniffed and said, “If there is ever a fire or a flood, you are going to be very grateful for my emergency preparedness drills.” It was a long-standing joke between them, and even now, it earned him a little laugh and a sad smile.

“yeah. yeah, i am. so we just do the same for your heat, okay? would that help?”

After a moment, Edge nodded. Reframing his heat like a natural disaster he could plan for and accommodate did help, but…. “It’s not going to be like this,” he said, gesturing to the nest.

Rus snorted. “you mean i’m not allowed to have a mental health crisis in the middle of your heat?”

Edge rolled his eyelights. “You’re not, but that’s not what I meant. I mean I won’t be able to do any of this.” He gestured to their surroundings. “The nest. The cuddling. The sex. I don’t know that I can do any of that for you.”

“hey, edge—look at me.” He cupped his cheekbones, holding his gaze. “your heat isn’t for me, okay? it’s not for anyone. it’s just a thing that happens. there’s no expectations. you’re just going to do whatever makes you comfortable. nothing more. nothing less, either.” Edge nodded because he had to, but Rus must have sensed his reservations. “what are you thinking?”

He swallowed. “It’s not that easy.”

Rus offered a rueful smile. “hey, getting hit by a tornado isn’t easy either, no matter how many times you run your drills. but we’ll push through, and i guarantee there’ll be less destruction.”

“What if—?”

He cut himself off, and when he didn’t add anything, Rus prompted, “what if what?”

“…My LV. What if…?” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“you won’t hurt me. you know you won’t hurt me. you’ll still be you, precious, just like i’m still me.”

“You don’t have any LV.”

Rus cupped his cheekbone. “then we plan for that too. you want me to handcuff you to the bed for the first day?” he teased, “just to make sure you behave?”

He shuddered, unnerved by the idea of being bound while his soul was so exposed. Even if Rus was the only one around to see. And yet…. “That would be for the best,” he said. “You’d be safe that way.”

“woah, woah. okay. no. i was kidding. stars, edge.” He pulled away, running his hands down his face. He took a breath, then turned to face him. “alright, new deal—we will plan this out, figure out exactly how you want to handle this. we’ll have contingency plans and back-up plans and-and whatever you need to feel prepared. but you have to promise me that you won’t agree to something that’s going to upset you or make things worse for you. is that fair?”

“I won’t put you at risk.”

“yeah and being upset and agitated won’t make me any safer—that’s just as likely to aggravate your LV as it is to keep you contained.”

Edge looked away, realizing he was right. “We have to do something to make sure it’s safe for you to be around me.”

“yeah. we’ll figure it out. promise. but i don’t think either of us is at our best right now. why don’t we table this for a bit? take a rest. cuddle for a while.” He pulled the plate over. “eat something.” The words were weighted with layers of meaning.

Edge eyed a sandwich. He poked it. “…There’s no peanut butter in this, is there?”

“cross my heart.” He drew an X over his ribcage, above his soul.

Edge picked it up, trying not to calculate how much mana he’d get from it, how much he’d need to expend to burn it off. Trying, especially, not to think of ways to fool Rus into thinking he was eating and everything was fine. Unless Edge wanted to hurt him further, this had to end now.

He pulled off a piece of bread and started to chew.

Chapter Text

When Cash fell asleep in his arms, Twist reluctantly pulled away and lay him in the nest. He ran the backs of his fingers over Cash’s cheek, brushing away dried mana. He tried—carefully—not to think about what Cash had just said, though his throat was tight and his soul heavy.

Slim’s arms settled around his waist, and he rested his chin on Twist’s shoulder. His bones were hot against his spine. Twist reached back, cupping the side of his face. “Heya, darlin’.” Slim nuzzled into his hand. “You okay? Need sumthin’?” The teasing note was obvious in his voice. From the heat pouring off of him, Twist had to assume he was ready for round two, and he was grateful for that. Twist could lose himself in the pleasure and physicality of fucking, shake off the melancholy Cash’s words had left him with.

But Slim shook his head, draping himself over Twist’s back. “just you,” he said, purring softly.

Twist’s mouth went dry. He swallowed. “Well, ya got me,” he said, trying for comforting but the reassurance sounded hollow to his own ears. Before Slim could react to it, he cleared his throat. “Like ta clean up, though.” He looked down at his chest, as if perturbed by the mana drying on his bones. “Startin’ ta itch.”

“you’ll come back?”

“’Course.”

With obvious reluctance, Slim released him, but not before planting a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck, setting Twist’s soul hammering. He scratched at his scarred socket, hiding the fresh trickle of mana seeping from between the cracks. He disentangled himself from the sheets, trying not to trip on his way out of the room—or let Slim catch on to his distress.

Downstairs, he pulled the bathroom door shut behind him, leaning against it as he tried to steady his breathing. He squeezed his sockets shut and clenched his fist closed, using the heel of his hand to wipe the fresh mana from his cheek.

Distantly, his soul ached, reaching for something it couldn’t have. Mourning a future that could never be.

Anger welled up, and his fists tightened until his claws pricked his metacarpals. He had no right to feel this way. No right at all. He was lucky to have even a week with them, lucky to have made it this far. He’d seen the sun now and the stars. He’d made it to the Surface, seen his little brother and his friends start their new lives. He’d even been allowed to pretend—for a while—that this was a new beginning for himself too.

He had to stop pretending, though. With every bit of EXP he’d gained, every bit of L.O.V.E., he’d known he was trading his future for his present. He’d made this bargain with himself, knowingly and willingly. But now that the piper had come to take his due, Twist thought it was unfair? Did he really think he deserved more than what he’d already been given?

No. No, he didn’t. So he wiped the mana from his face and took a long, deep breath, forcing his hands open. One week. He could have them for one week—no more. No less. And he wasn’t going to spoil it for himself by dwelling on a future they couldn’t have together or wasting time on self-pity. No, he was going to put on a happy face, and treasure every stolen second.

He took a slow, deep breath and pushed away from the door. He leaned over the sink to wash his face, only straightening when the water ran clear once more. Just as he took a washcloth and began scrubbing the dried mana from his ribcage, he felt pressure around his distant soul. He furrowed his brow-bones, rubbing at his sternum. Cash’s soul still pulsed behind his ribs, heat and need radiating from it. The need felt strange, though—the desperation less sexual and more frantic.

Twist winced—Cash must have woken up and realized Twist still had his soul. He reached into his chest and brushed his fingers over it, trying to project reassurance. He was rewarded with immediate, painful pressure on his own soul. Teeth clenched, he leaned against the counter, hissing as the pain peaked. He swore, discarding the washcloth as he stumbled out of the bathroom.

He had to lean against the wall for a moment, feeling another surge of pain and pressure. Swearing again—at himself, at Cash—he tried to climb up the ladder, though he had to stop after a couple rungs. “Tha’s enough!” he rasped, “’M tryna climb back up.”

The pain faded, but the pressure lingered. He hurried up the ladder, in case Cash decided to use his soul as a stress ball again. “Whaddaya doin’—”

Blue magic struck him, but with his soul in Cash’s hands, it had nothing to catch and dissipated harmlessly against his sternum. He blinked, looking down at his chest, before raising his gaze to the nest and meeting Cash’s eyelight. He was kneeling amidst the blankets, nearly vibrating with fury. He pointed to the nest. “get. in.”

Twist raised his hands, standing slowly. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’ think ya’d be upset. Got yer soul right—”

“get in the fucking bed, twist.”

Twist looked to Slim, wondering if he understood what was going on, but he looked just as confused as Twist felt—and seemed almost as upset as Cash. “Alright, I’m comin’.” He moved slowly, though that only seemed to make Cash more irritated. As soon as he was in reach, Cash grabbed him and pulled him close, one hand still closed tight around his soul. He buried his face in the crook of Twist’s throat, scenting him.

The nape of his neck prickled. “Uh, darlin’…?”

Cash bit him—hard.

Twist choked on an exhale, hands scrabbling over Cash’s ribs and hipbones. Cash swept his tongue over the bite mark, and Twist squeezed his hips, mana flooding his mouth. Pulling back just enough to catch his eyelight, Cash gripped the nape of his neck—claws digging into his vertebrae—and snarled, “you left.”

He blinked. “Was only gone fer a minute. Jus’—”

Cash snarled again, shoving him down into the nest. He straddled his hips, one hand on his sternum, the other holding his soul aloft—and squeezing. A pained gasp escaped him, and he clawed at Cash’s arm, before remembering the kind of damage he could do if he was careless. He forced his hands flat against the mattress instead, squirming as Cash’s grip grew ever tighter around his soul. Slim’s hands fluttered as he looked helplessly between them. Twist lifted one hand just enough to sign, “It’s okay.”

Slim settled, but Cash leaned close, until they were nasal ridge to nasal ridge. “you left,” he snarled. His good socket was narrowed, his eyelight flared and angry. “while I was sleeping! you were just fucking gone.”

Twist blinked, still not understanding. Then, when he loosened his grip on his soul, Twist realized Cash’s breathing was ragged and his thighs trembled faintly as they gripped his ribcage. “you don’t just fucking disappear,” he snapped, squeezing his soul for emphasis. “you don’t get to just leave like that, asshole.” Twist swallowed, schooling his features; he knew Cash wouldn’t react well if he detected pity in his face.

It was easy, sometimes, to forget the magnitude of Cash’s loss. To forget his whole universe had fallen to dust—and he alone remained as both witness and survivor. He made it easy by snapping at anyone who tried to get close, by putting up walls and pretending he didn’t want or need anyone to want or need him in turn. Even Twist forgot, sometimes, and he’d been the one who found him in the destroyed remains of his Judgement Hall, the only other skeleton to walk the dust-limned roads of his all but abandoned universe.

Impossible to forget now, with him looking down at Twist like he’d lost hold of a life raft and only just found it again.

So, Twist rubbed his hands up and down Cash’s thighs, gently projecting / seCUriTy / SaFETy / HOME /. “Alright, sweetheart. I got it. Won’ leave without tellin’ ya where ‘m goin’, okay?” At least for now, while Cash was gripped by his heat and clearly not fully in his right mind.

Unsatisfied, Cash glared at him, and his hand tightened around Twist’s soul. Twist inhaled sharply, but he kept up the steady, soothing projections. Something snapped, and the pain lifted all at once. He blinked, trying to understand the sudden surge of euphoria coursing through him. It felt like his soul was singing.

From behind Cash, Slim gasped and grabbed at Cash’s hand, pulling Twist’s soul free of his grip. Twist didn’t understand until he saw the line of gold mana trailing down Cash’s arm. Cash saw it too, and his sockets went wide, the anger disappearing all at once.

Twist tightened his hold on Cash’s thighs, holding him in place. “Hey, hey. ‘S alright.” Slim looked at him, sockets creased in concern. “’M fine, sweetheart.” He rubbed his thumbs over Cash’s thighbones. “B’tween my LV an’ his KR, if he’d ‘a meant ta hurt me, I’d be hurtin’.” Cash stiffened, as if that thought had only just occurred to him.

“it’s cracked,” Slim said, cradling Twist’s soul to his chest.

“Only on the outside,” he said, looking at the crack in his soul’s surface. He could see why Slim looked so panicked; mana dripped from it like Cash had opened a fresh wound. But Twist only felt a vague sense of relief—like a persistent itch had finally been scratched. “It don’ hurt, sweetheart. ‘S okay. Really.”

“really?” Slim signed. He studied his soul uncertainly.

“Really. It’s okay, darlin’. Promise.”

Slim’s shoulders eased, but Cash seemed frozen in place, his gaze distant. Twist slipped a hand inside his own ribcage, upping his projections as he took hold of Cash’s soul. He shuddered and tried to get up, but Twist kept hold of his thigh. “Easy, sweetheart. Easy. It’s fine. Yer fine. Everythin’s fine.”

“your soul—”

Twist snorted. “It’s prob’ly in better shape now ‘n it was b’fore.” Cash stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Really. Bring it here, sweetheart,” he told Slim. “Let’s get a better look at it, yeah?”

With a glance at Cash, Slim obeyed. He settled beside them, holding Twist’s soul between his cupped hands like it was something precious and fragile. The split in the outer surface ran from tip to crease, and fresh mana welled along the edges. Warm golden light spilled from the cracked surface, and Twist traced a finger around the edges. “See?” he said, “Jus’ broke through the crap on the outside. Inside’s fine.” Many of the thorns and barbs were broken too, and Twist worried briefly about Cash’s hand, wondering if any had managed to bruise or puncture the bone.

Cautiously, Cash touched the tip of his phalange to the newly exposed surface of Twist’s soul. A shudder rolled through him; he swore, toes curling. “twist?” Slim asked.

“’S fine,” he rasped, “Jus’—sensitive is all.”

He realized he’d made a mistake when Cash and Slim shared a look. “sensitive, huh?” Cash asked, pressing more firmly.

Twist gasped, grabbing his arm. His sockets were wide, his eyelight bright. “Fuck.” He took a breath, trying to calm his magic. The mana nodes at each joint were warming already. “Yeah, ‘s sensitive, so quit it—‘less yer already ready fer another round.” He looked him over, half in threat and half in interest.

Cash looked to Slim, smirking. “you want him?”

Twist scowled. “Yer sure willin’ ta pass me around, fer a guy that couldn’t wait ta get me back in ‘is bed—” He choked on his words as Cash rolled his thumb over the soft surface of his soul. He clutched at the bedding, not trusting himself to take hold of Cash. “Fuck!”

“go on, then,” Cash said to Slim, as if Twist was his to offer. “take him for a ride, love.”

His soul pulsed, fresh mana bubbling over Cash’s hand. He swore again, while Cash rolled to the side. Twist sat up, glaring at him—ready to prove that he wasn’t a monster to be so casually dismissed—but then Slim was nibbling on his cervical vertebrae, and Cash was teasing his thumb under the calcified layers of his soul, touching him in ways he’d never been touched before. He planted a hand on the mattress and bowed forward, teeth grit to hold in a groan or a growl or something more animalistic still. When Cash eased up, Twist glared at him. “Yer playin’ with fire, doin’ that,” he rasped. Cash looked completely unconcerned, and Twist lost track of him when Slim tilted his skull up for a deep, lingering kiss.

Cash massaged his soul through it, apparently unwilling to be left out. His touch was lighter, though, less overwhelming. Still, it left Twist feeling desperate for more—more of Slim, more of Cash, more of them on him, in him, around him. He broke the kiss, trying to catch his breath. “Shit. If this is what heat’s like, I don’ know how ya stand it, sweetheart.”

Slim shrugged. “easy,” he said against Twist’s mouth. He kissed the corner, then traced a path down his jaw. “we have you,” he said, then bit the other side of his neck, opposite the mark Cash had already left. At the same moment, Cash teased his tongue over his soul.

Twist’s eyelight rolled back, mana rushing through his skull.

Without thinking about the consequences, without worrying about their HP or his LV, he put Slim on his back, shoving him into the nest and holding him there. A low sound vibrated his sternum—not a growl, not a purr, but something in between—and Slim grinned, lifting his hands up above his head. Taking the hint, Twist gripped both wrists in one hand and shifted his weight over Slim’s hips, holding him down. “You two’re gonna kill me,” he said, looking between them.

Then, shaking his head, he focused his attention on Slim, on his gentle smile and his easy show of submission. Swallowing, he leaned down to kiss him. Slim opened for him readily, allowing Twist to guide the kiss. Without pulling back, he pressed Slim’s hand inside his ribcage, where Cash’s soul still rested. Pulling back, he kissed the hinge of his jaw, over the mana node that rested there. Then he murmured in his acoustic meatus, “Le’s make sure Patches don’ feel left out, yeah?”

He felt Slim smirk against his mandible and heard Cash gasp as Slim squeezed.

-

Later, after they’d fallen into a spent tangle of limbs, Twist rested against the edge of the nest, one of Cash’s legs thrown over his, while Slim curled between. Twist couldn’t silence the low, persistent purr vibrating his chest, nor did he try. They were warm and content, and the outside world seemed very far away.

Twist knew it couldn’t last, but that only made the moment of peace more precious. He turned over onto his side, ignoring Cash’s ominous growl. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart. ‘M right here.”

“good,” was all Cash said, shifting so he could grab hold of his forearm.

Twist grinned. “Maybe you oughta be in the middle, darlin’. So ya c’n keep track ‘a both ‘s us.”

He said it teasingly, but Cash sat up, nudging Slim aside so he could take his place between them. Slim’s grin stretched wide as he resettled himself, spooning Cash from behind. Cash hooked his claws through Twist’s ribs, obviously not trusting him to stay put. Twist’s purring only grew louder in response, and Slim hummed happily, the vibrations likely soothing to his soul.

At some point, their souls had been shuffled around again—Slim now had Cash’s, Cash had Twist’s, and Twist had Slim’s. Twist reached into his chest and cupped it loosely, projecting / pEaCE / WarmTh / SAFEty /. Slim sighed again and settled even deeper into the nest, purring faintly. Cash huffed, as if annoyed by the projections, but he only burrowed closer, folding his arm over Twist’s chest.

Twist shut his sockets, basking in the warmth and comfort of the nest. His purring grew louder.

They dozed. Outside, the warm gold of late afternoon slowly faded to the cool dusk of early evening. Cash growled when Twist hauled himself upright, leaning out of the nest. “Jus’ turnin’ on a light,” he said. “You two hungry? ‘S getting’ late.”

They looked at each other. Slim shrugged, but Cash studied him, considering. “i could eat,” he said, before pushing Slim’s legs wide and kneeling between them. Snickering, Slim obediently summoned his pussy.

Shaking his head, Twist snorted. “I meant sumthin’ a little more substantial’n that.”

“you’re just jealous i thought of it first,” Cash said, supporting himself on his elbows while he slipped a pillow under Slim’s hips so they’d be at a more comfortable height.

“Nah. I like savin’ dessert fer last.” Slim gestured to him, making it very clear that he wouldn’t mind having his mouth occupied while Cash ate him out. “Tha’s sweet, darlin’, but I’m gonna order us some food. Chinese okay?”

Slim nodded, but Cash was otherwise occupied. He called and rattled off his order, familiar enough with their tastes to know what they’d like. The restaurant didn’t deliver, but Twist wanted to check in with Red anyway. He sent a text, and Red agreed to deliver for them.

As soon as he put the phone away, Slim gestured him over. Grinning, Twist slipped a hand into his own ribcage to stimulate Slim’s soul. Between the soul stimulation and Cash’s cunning tongue, they brought him to a peak before Red arrived. At the sound of the doorbell, Twist kissed Slim and said, “Be back soon, sweetheart.”

Cash caught his arm as he stepped out of the nest. “five minutes,” he said.

Shaking his head, Twist pulled on sweatpants and a shirt. “Alright, darlin’. Shouldn’ take more’n that anyway.” He leaned in and kissed him. “'Sides, ya got collateral,” he said, touching Cash’s sternum. “Ain’t goin’ too far without this, yeah?”

Cash cupped his soul, thumb pressing into the exposed gold. “try it and see what happens.”

Twist snorted, scrubbing a playful hand over Cash’s skull. “Five minutes,” he said, “No playin’ around with it b’fore then, alright? Ain’t in’erested in givin’ Red a show.”

Cash nodded, but his socket was narrowed and suspicious, like he expected Twist to run off at any moment. Giving Twist a knowing grin, Slim cupped Cash’s cheek and brought him in for a kiss, dipping one hand between them to stimulate Cash’s pubic symphysis. Twist gave Slim a mocking salute in thanks, then jumped to the ground floor, confident that Slim could keep Cash occupied.

Red rang the doorbell again. “I’m comin’,” he called, opening the door.

Red smirked. “heh. been sayin’ that a lot t’day?” He scratched under his jaw. “with marks like that, ya can’t tell me yer jus’ playin’ referee.”

Twist touched one of the bite marks on his neck. “Ah, well.” He shrugged. “Ya know ‘m always willin’ ta lend a hand fer a friend in need.” He winked, while Red snorted. “What about you? Didja talk ta Papyrus?” Red shot him a glare, but Twist only grinned back at him. “Went well for ya, then?”

Rolling his eyelights, Red said, “yeah, yeah. we’re gettin’ coffee next week. proud ‘a yerself?”

Twist reaching out to knuckle the top of his skull, earning surprised sputtering from Red. “Nah—proud ‘a you, though!”

Red shoved his arm away, straightening his jacket with a glare. Then his eyelights darted to the ladder. “an’…them?”

He grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “They’re doin’ jus’ fine. Think they might even go fer coffee after this is all finished.”

“just them?” Red eyed him.

Twist cleared his throat, forcing back the sudden tightness. “Jus’ them.” He reached for the bag of takeout. “Thanks fer this, darlin’. Whadda I owe ya?”

Red put his hand on the door and put his foot on the frame. “how ‘bout an explanation?” Twist raised a brow-bone. “me an’ the creampuff stopped by the embassy taday. yer boss was there. said ella dropped by the shop.”

Twist sighed. “She said that, huh?”

Red nodded. “yeah.” He tugged on his collar. “said you might need people ta vouch fer ya.” Twist didn’t respond. “if, uh, if this went further’n it already has.”

He shook his head, rubbing his forehead. “Ya don’ gotta worry ‘bout that, sweetheart. It ain’t goin’ no further’n this.”

Red’s sockets narrowed. “ya didn’ go ta boris—”

He waved him off. “I didn’ go ta Boris.” He wouldn’t need to, in the end. Scales would send them both back Underground when she caught wind of this. Or, if she tried to send him back alone, then he’d make sure Ella wouldn’t be a problem for his friends and family before he left. Either way, it was taken care of.

Red must have seen something in his face to put him on edge, because his grip on the door tightened. “hey, it ain’t jus’ you an’ yer bro now,” he said, “ya got allies. hook an’ ‘dyne an’ yer people at the shop. an’ us. we got yer back.”

Twist snorted. “Yeah, darlin’ I know.” More people to disappoint. More people to hurt when he finally lost it. More people for Ella to target.

“so yer not gonna do nuthin’ stupid, right?”

He forced a grin. “C’mon, now. Lemme have my fun, yeah?”

“i’m serious, twist. hook an’ ‘dyne are stickin’ their necks out ta make sure scales don’ send ya back. an’ yer boss says they’ve had ta deal with people like ella b’fore—”

He laughed, the sound ugly and mean. “Hope not, sweetheart. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone else.” Red’s features paled, and Twist winced. “Sorry. I get what yer sayin’, an’….” He swallowed, scratching the underside of his jaw. “An’ ya don’ gotta worry, alright? I wanna stay up ‘ere much as anyone else. I wouldn’ throw that away jus’ ta get back at her.” Too bad his LV made it impossible to stay. Even if Scales didn’t force him back Underground, he couldn’t stay here. Not knowing the kind of harm he could do. He was out of time. He cleared his throat. “Now, if ya don’ mind—I got a pair ‘a skeletons ta feed, an’ they ain’t exac’ly patient right now.”

Red studied him, then nodded. He withdrew his hand and his foot, straightening his jacket as he did. “good. an’ you’ll tell boris ta fuck off?”

“Don’ need to, darlin’.” He wouldn’t be here long enough to go into heat anyway. “He won’—”

“who the fuck is boris?”

Apparently, his five minutes were up. “Heya, sweetheart.”

A hand wrapped around his waist, the other around his neck. Droplets of sweat appeared on Red’s forehead. Twist winked to let him know everything was fine. He reached back, cupping the side of Cash’s skull.

“get. out.”

To Red’s credit, he looked to Twist, signing, “you okay?” Cash, using Twist’s body to shield himself from view, wouldn’t see.

Twist lifted his chin, giving Cash better access in answer. “See ya in a few days, sweetheart.”

“i, uh. i c’n bring food—”

“no,” Cash said, “you won’t.” He kicked the door closed, then shoved Twist into the wood. “who the fuck is boris?”

“Jus’ a friend.” Twist didn’t fight it when Cash traced a finger over his neck, then dug at his sweatshirt to finger the marks around his wrist.

“these are his?”

Twist sighed, leaning into the door. “Darlin’, ya ain’t got a right ta be jealous s’long as its my soul ya got b’hind yer ribcage.”

Cash paused, then pushed away from Twist. “i’m not jealous.”

Twist rolled his head until his cervical vertebrae popped. “Well, then, ya got no reason ta worry, now do ya?”

Twist turned to face him, rubbing the back of his battered neck bones. Cash just glared. “you.” He hissed, and for a moment, Twist expected him to spit on the floor between them. But Cash was from the Capitol; even Underground, he’d have been too well-mannered for that. “it’s not fucking boris i’m worried about.”

Twist sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door. “I got Ella handled, sweetheart—”

Cash growled, storming up to him. “it’s you, twist.” He pressed a finger into his sternum. “you’re the one i’m worried about.”

Chapter Text

They ate in uncomfortable silence. Rather, Rus ate, but when he checked Edge’s plate, he seemed to be deconstructing his sandwich, rather than eating it—pulling the meat and lettuce free, tearing the bread into smaller and smaller pieces. Rus’ soul felt frozen. His throat was tight, and his sockets stung. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. Staring wouldn’t help.

By the time Rus was finished, Edge wasn’t even halfway done. Swallowing, he bumped his shoulder into Edge’s and asked, “remember when we first met?”

Edge snorted, tearing a piece of crust in half. “Do I remember calling you an inferior copy and storming out of the room? Yes, Rus, I remember that.” He sounded tired, even past the sarcasm.

Rus smirked, leaning into him. His throat was still tight and tense, but his soul eased a fraction at the contact. “to be fair, i spent most of the afternoon taking cheap shots at you first.”

Edge sighed, glancing at him. “That you did.” He eyed the piece of crust and actually ate it this time. Rus ran his hand over Edge’s spine, resting his forehead on his scapula. His soul hummed, pleased by the scent and proximity of his mate, even though the circumstances were less than ideal. “That was such a disaster,” Edge muttered, “How in the world did we ever get past that?” It was technically a question, but his tone made it obvious he didn’t expect an answer.

Rus kissed his scapula, thumb stroking over his lumbar vertebrae. “you don’t know?”

Edge turned his head, looking back at him. He opened his mouth, then shut it. His gaze grew distant. “…No,” he said after a few moments, “I really don’t. One day you were needling me about my LV, and it seemed like you were trying to get into my pants the next.”

Rus grinned. “and you let me.”

Edge snorted. “I thought maybe you’d leave me alone if I satisfied your curiosity.”

Chuckling, Rus nuzzled at his neck. “satisfied? stars, precious, that just left me wanting more.” He shook his head, reminding himself of Edge’s current state; now was not the time to start winding himself up. “but you know what changed, don’t you?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“it was the cat.”

“…Excuse me?”

“you know the annoying cat? from my ‘verse? you and red were over—for a potluck or something, i think. and that cat was getting into everything. it—”

“He,” Edge corrected absently. Rus grinned.

“he kept knocking the silverware off the table, jumping on the counters, getting into the food. i thought blue was going to blow a fuse.”

Edge snorted. “If I recall, you and Sans were taking bets on it.”

He laughed. “yeah, and i woulda won too, but…then you swooped in and said you’d handle it. i, uh, i wasn’t sure what you meant at the time.” He ducked his head, ashamed of the assumptions he’d made. He cleared his throat. “so i followed you when you took him out of the house. and i saw you sit down with him and give him treats. saw how you had him purring in minutes. that’s when i knew there was more to you than your lv.”

Edge was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Only you would re-evaluate your Judgement based on the way someone handled a pussy.”

Rus choked on his laughter, wrapping his arms around Edge’s waist. “stars, i love you.”

Edge looked at him from over his shoulder. “That was for you and you only. If I hear you tell anyone that I made such a vulgar joke….”

“who’d believe me, anyway?”

They kissed, the contact soft and sweet, devoid of heat—despite the thrumming warmth in Rus’ mana lines. He wanted, but more than that, he needed to know Edge was okay. He broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together instead. He clutched at Edge’s ribcage, clinging so hard he could feel Edge’s mana pulsing through the marrow. And Edge…Edge welcomed him beautifully. His posture was loose and relaxed, his body willing and warm. But his soul—

Stars, Rus’ soul ached, yearning to make that final connection. He could sense Edge’s soul behind his ribcage, still unmanifested. Part of him couldn’t help but read that as a rejection of him and all he had to offer. He knew that wasn’t true—Edge’s physical reception was evidence enough of that—but he clung tighter regardless, some part of him terrified that Edge’s warm reception would cool, and he’d turn away completely.

“Rus?”

He made a soft sound at the back of his throat in response. A wordless inquiry.

Edge ran his thumb over his temple. “Can you tell me how it feels?”

“how it…?”

“Being in heat.”

“oh.” He considered that, pulling back from the embrace. “it depends on your partner, really.” Edge’s skull tilted and his brow-bone lifted. “remember how i went through all the things i would need from you?” He nodded. “well, i’d be in pretty bad shape right about now if you weren’t willing to do any of that for me.”

He picked at a piece of bread. “What’s it like, when it’s bad?”

Rus paused. “i…why don’t i tell you what it’s like when it’s good?”

“No. I mean—” He grimaced. “I want to know that too, but I need to know what the worst case scenario is.”

Rus studied him, not sure that this was a good idea. He eyed his plate. “finish eating first.” He expected Edge to argue with him about that, but he just gave a short nod and actually began eating, not just picking at, his food. While he did, Rus tried to figure out what to say and how to say it. He didn’t want to spook Edge any further, but if he held anything back, he might do something stupid—like try to go it alone.

So, when Edge finished, Rus pushed him into the nest, pulling the blankets and pillows into place. Edge watched him, eyelights following his hands as he rearranged the nest around him. “What are you thinking right now?”

Rus paused, eyeing him. “what do you mean?”

“It’s unusual for you to fuss like this. I want to know what you’re thinking about while you do it.”

“i…” Rus hadn’t really realized he was doing anything out of character. More slowly, he tugged at the blankets. “i’m thinking that i want you to be comfortable,” he said carefully.

Edge studied him. “What else?”

Rus blinked. “okay, i’m not sure what you’re getting at here.”

Pulling a hand free of the blankets, Edge cupped his cheekbone, thumb smoothing over his mandible. Rus’ sockets slipped closed, and he leaned into the contact. “I need to know what you’re thinking.” ‘Need’, not ‘want’ Rus noticed. “How much of this is you and how much is….”

Rus’ sockets popped opened. “it’s all me.” Edge shook his head. He didn’t say anything, just leaned back against the pillows, arms folded. “it is,” Rus said. He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “alright—it’s like this, okay? i’m still me. i’m not doing anything i don’t want to do. i’m just….” He huffed. “it’s like…karaoke night, right? maybe i don’t sing anything at the start of the night, but after i have a few shots, i’m up there singing ‘don’t stop believing’. the alcohol might make it easier to get up there, and it makes it more fun, but that’s all me on stage. it’s something i wanted to do and i’m having fun doing it. i just needed a little help to get there, you know?”

“It’s not just you, though,” Edge said, “If it was just you, you wouldn’t need the alcohol.” He swallowed as some of the mana drained from his cheekbones. “And I won’t fuck you when you’re impaired. You know that.”

shit. That definitely wasn’t what he’d meant to imply. “okay, never mind. bad example. just let me—” He rubbed at his sockets. “stars, edge, do we have to do this right now? i’m—” He took a deep breath. “you want to know what i’m thinking? this is what I’m thinking; i feel warm and comfortable and safe. i want to curl up in my nest with the man that i love, and i want him to feel warm and comfortable and safe too. that’s what i want, and that is all me—heat or no heat. i’m not impaired. i’m just…maybe i’m more willing to show it than i normally am, that’s all. okay?”

Edge’s posture relaxed a little. “I…I’m sorry.” He opened his arms and Rus took that as invitation. He draped himself over Edge, skull pressed to his chest so he could feel the hum of mana through his mana lines and smell the familiar scent of soap and bones. He curled closer, sighing as the tension drained out of his body. Tentatively, Edge rested a hand on the back of his neck, then ran it down his spine—petting him in much the same way he’d soothed the annoying cat more than a year ago now. “I can wait,” Edge said, “if you don’t want to talk about it while you’re…indisposed.”

Rus snorted. “i don’t mind talking about it, but i need you to understand that i want this.” He squeezed his ribs, just enough to show what he meant. “i’d want this—want you—even if i wasn’t in heat.”

Edge’s hand rested loosely on the back of his skull. “And if I were someone else…?”

Rus sighed, lifting himself up on his elbows, just enough to look Edge in the eyelight. “it depends. i’ve spent my heat with—”

“I do not need specifics,” Edge said in a rush, spots of color appearing high on his cheekbones.

“—people i’ve been attracted to, and we had a good time, if you know what i mean. i’ve also spent it with people i was just friendly with and didn’t find attractive. that was fine, but we didn’t fuck and….” He stopped.

“And?”

“it’s not as good, that’s all. but it wasn’t bad.” Stars, he did not need Edge forcing himself out of his comfort zone to try to make this good for him.

But another concern had Edge’s attention now. “Have you had a bad experience?”

Rus winced and looked away. “i….”

Edge sat up, his grip on him suddenly fierce. He was projecting subtly, and Rus tried to shake it off, but his soul basked in the waves of / safety / security / PROTECTION / rolling off him. “it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” he murmured, settling into Edge’s lap with his skull on Edge’s shoulder and their sternums pressed together. “first time sucked. that’s all. i didn’t have a partner and i didn’t even really know what i wanted. blue was still a kid, so he didn’t understand why i didn’t want him around.” He sighed, nuzzling into Edge’s throat as the projections poured over him. A soft purr started in his chest. “i spent the first day holed up in my room. hurt like hell—felt like my bones were melting. and my soul….” He shuddered. Silently, he vowed that it would never be like that for Edge.

“What did you do?”

“blue eventually got so freaked out he called Tori.”

Edge blinked, then pulled back to stare at him. “You would have been little better than a child yourself! She—”

“no, no. no. it wasn’t like that. she just…sat with me. taught me how to make a nest. made tea. held my hand and scratched my skull. she helped me when i needed it. it was nice. she was nice.”

Edge was silent for several beats, then his grip tightened, and he pulled Rus close. “And when you were old enough, she asked you to be her Judge.”

His purring ceased. “no. i mean—yes, but…it wasn’t like that. she asked because of my kr. because i was the only monster underground who couldn’t gain lv—who had an advantage against monsters with lv. and she helped me because i was a scared kid, and she wasn’t just going to let me suffer. look, i know your king wasn’t a good guy—” Edge snorted at the understatement. “—but tori’s not like that. she did what she did because it was the right thing to do, not because she wanted to put me in her debt or something.”

Edge didn’t contradict him, but his grip didn’t loosen and his projections only grew stronger. Reluctantly, Rus pulled back so he could catch his eyelight. His features were tight and tense, his jawbone set. “edge….” He cupped his cheekbone, running his thumb over it. “we’re on the surface now. this isn’t underfell. you don’t need to be so suspicious. tori isn’t like that. most people aren’t like that. not here. not now.” Edge shook his head, pulling away to lean back against the pillows. His hands settled on the bottoms of Rus’ ribcage, holding him in place. His gaze was distant, and he absently ran his thumbs up and down Rus’ ribs. “edge?”

He shook his head again, gaze still distant. After a while, he said, “I don’t think you know how fragile this all seems to me.”

“what do you mean?”

Edge looked up at him, hands firm on his ribs. “You don’t ever feel like this could all just…crumble? That the humans could decide to send us back Underground? Or that the Fell monsters could decide to start living by Kill or Be Killed again? Or that you might wake up one day and all of this was-was just a dream and you’re still…?” He squeezed Rus’ ribs, as if to reassure himself of his solidity. “Doesn’t any of that frighten you?”

“sometimes,” Rus said. “i have dreams like that. but then i wake up and you’re there beside me and…i’m okay again. they’re just nightmares.” He’d had worse, Underground. Since coming to the Surface, his nightmares had grown less frequent and less dire.

But Edge shook his head. “I’m not taking about nightmares.” He set his jaw, seeming to come to a decision. “Do you know, on my runs, I always check the graffiti, to see if any of the Fell-verse gangs are operating again.” Rus blinked. “Or to see if the humans are becoming more hostile. And when we go out, I always watch the crowds to see if anyone is too interested in us, if they seem like they might….”

“edge.”

Gaze distant, as if he hadn’t heard, Edge continued, “If I think about it too much, I get upset when you’re out on your own, because I know you don’t do those things. You don’t even seem to worry about your social media presence, the information you give away, the way people could use that information to hurt you.”

Rus’ sockets widened. He really didn’t know what to say to that. “i…i could post less, if you…?”

Edge caught his socket, meeting his gaze. “That’s not…. No. You may not worry over these things, but you aren’t unsafe, either. If you were, I’d talk to you about it.” He shook his head, gaze inward. “No, you’re not the problem here. I know that.”

Rus looked down at him, stunned. The scar that split his socket seemed suddenly like an open wound, and the little cracks that littered his bones—old wounds Edge insisted didn’t hurt any longer—seemed so numerous. “you never said anything.”

He shrugged, looking unbearably young for a moment. “This is supposed to be your happy ending. You made it to the Surface. You shouldn’t have to deal with my Fell-verse bullshit.”

Rus held his face in his hands, cupping his cheekbones. “it’s not an ending,” he said, “it’s a beginning—our beginning. not just mine.” He took a breath, forcing back tears. “stars, precious, if this is what you’re thinking about all the time, it’s no wonder that the idea of going into heat freaks you out.” He leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead, then pulled him into a hug.

Slowly, as if unsure, Edge’s arms folded around him, returning the embrace. “it’s okay, you know,” Rus murmured, “to feel like this. everything up here is totally new and different. all the rules have changed.” He grinned, pulling back just enough to catch his eyelight. “it’s been an adjustment for me too—i had to learn to keep the door locked!” Edge snorted and buried his face in Rus’ chest, likely remembering their first real argument after moving in together. Rus allowed himself a smile, then kissed him on the temple. “we’re in this together now. your problems are my problems too. so, don’t hide these things from me anymore.”

Edge took a shuddering breath, face still buried in his chest. He nodded, and Rus felt his soul unclench. “Okay. No more secrets.”

“promise?”

“Promise.”

“good.” Rus rolled into the nest, taking Edge with him. They settled on their sides, facing each other. Rus ran his hand over Edge’s ribcage, fingers lingering on some of the more prominent cracks.

“Is that all?” Edge asked after a moment, “It just hurts?”

It took Rus a moment to understand what Edge meant, and when he did, he hesitated. no more secrets. Finally, he said, “at first, yeah. your bones ache and your soul cramps real bad. you feel hot and uncomfortable. but, uh, it starts to get worse over time. when you’re alone….” He swallowed, curling closer to Edge until their thighs touched and their floating ribs brushed against each other. “your mind starts playing tricks on you,” he said, “you feel…disgusting. vile. you can feel your sins crawling on your back, and you know that that’s why you’re alone. because no one could possibly want someone as disgusting as you. you feel so sure of it, so sure that your soul starts to ache, like it might split in half at any moment. and you just want to curl up and die.” He finished in a whisper, his arms tight around Edge.

Edge folded over him, holding him close to remind him that he wasn’t alone. And someone did want him, very much. Again, he felt his soul reaching out for Edge’s, aching just a little when it didn’t manifest in response. Rus squeezed him tight, wanting more and knowing that now was not the time. This was enough. It had to be.

“Is it like that for everyone?”

“i don’t know. that’s what it was like for me, that first time. until tori got there, at least.”

“And after?”

He sighed, nuzzling into Edge’s ribs. “the pain faded first,” he said, “it was almost immediate. soon as she touched me, my bones stopped aching. it took longer for my soul to stop hurting, though, and even longer to stop feeling like she was just taking pity on me, that i didn’t deserve her kindness.” He cleared his throat, tucking his face against Edge’s cervical vertebrae. “can i tell you what it’s like when it’s good now?”

“Is that the worst it can get?”

“that’s the worst i’ve had.”

“I need to know how bad it can get, Rus. Please.”

Rus sighed but didn’t pull away. “i don’t know. i guess i’ve heard of monsters having to be hospitalized for untreated heat. usually they’ve got something wrong with their soul, though, something that keeps it from releasing magic.” Edge went still beside him, and Rus propped himself on one elbow to get a better look at him. “edge?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s…it’s fine.”

Rus’ soul ached. He cupped Edge’s cheekbone, thumb brushing the bottom of his scar. “breaking your promise already, precious?” His words struck true; Edge flinched. Still, he said nothing, and he wouldn’t meet Rus’ eyelights when he tried to catch his gaze. “c’mon, edgelord. you can tell me. we’re tackling this thing together, remember? i need to know what we’re working with.”

Edge’s hand clenched closed, but he gave an abbreviated nod. “I….” He cleared his throat. “My soul. The LV.” He finally caught Rus’ eyelight, allowing him to see the fear in his sockets. “It could….” He seemed unable to verbalize his fears, but Rus understood.

He stroked a hand over Edge’s cheekbone, his temple. “okay. that’s our worst case scenario then. so, let’s figure out how to deal with it.”

Slowly, Edge nodded. “Yes. Alright. That’s—” He cleared his throat again. “That’s a good place to start.”

“we could set up a doctor’s appointment for you. if they take a look at your soul, they might be able to say what kind of complications the lv could cause.”

Edge held himself stiff and still. “I don’t want anyone else looking at my soul.”

“i know.” He took Edge’s hand in his, still propped up on the opposite elbow. “but it would be better to know, wouldn’t it? instead of waiting to see if it’s going to be a problem.”

Edge sighed, sockets shut as his bones relaxed. He didn’t look relieved, though, just resigned. “I know.”

Rus kissed his cheekbone, moving in to throw an arm over his ribcage and to draw his fingers down the back of Edge’s neck. “so that’s step one. once my heat’s over, we get you an appointment with a doctor.” Edge nodded, obviously unhappy but unwilling to fight when he knew Rus was right. Rus kissed him again, murmuring, “i’m proud of you, you know.”

He snorted. “For what? Having a panic attack when I’m supposed to be—”

Rus silenced him with another kiss. “no,” he said firmly, “for talking to me about this. for letting me help you.”

Edge’s chest hitched again. “If Hook hadn’t texted you….”

The words hung between them like a condemnation. Rus sighed. “still, i’m proud of you. you could have walked out the door—”

“I wouldn’t have left you while you were in heat!”

Rus grinned; he sounded so affronted. “i know. but you could have. or you could have doubled down and kept up the lie.” He rested his hand on one spinous process, fingering the protrusion of bone. “there’s a lot of things you could have done, but you decided to talk to me about it instead. that’s not an easy thing to do, so…i’m proud of you.”

Edge shook his head and rolled onto his other side, turning away from him. “It’s getting late,” he said, “and I’m tired. Can we finish this tomorrow?”

Throat tight, Rus pressed against his back, looping his arm over his ribcage. “sure,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “whenever you’re ready.”

Edge folded his hand around Rus’, drawing it up to his mouth to plant a kiss at the center of his palm. “Sooner than that,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “But thank you. For being patient with me.”

He kissed the back of his neck, settling more comfortably into the nest as his soul unclenched, reassured by the contact. “always.”

Chapter Text

“it’s you, twist. you’re the one i’m worried about.”

Cash’s chest felt tight, like he couldn’t catch his breath, and his finders trembled. He wanted—badly—to grab Twist and shake him. More than that, he wanted to shove him into the nest and keep him there until he understood. Until he stopped acting like such a fucking idiot.

Instead, he kept his finger pressed to his sternum and glared up at him. Infuriatingly, Twist just offered him a sad smile. “Well, I don’ know what yer worried about, but ya ain’t gotta. ‘M okay, sweetheart. Now why don’ we get you two fed, huh?”

Twist started to move away from the wall, but Cash flattened his hand against his sternum, pinning him in place. He growled. “no.” His soul, distantly caged behind Slim’s rib-bones, felt hot and achy—sick, even.

Twist’s brow-bone crept up. “No? If ya ain’t hungry—”

“shut. up.” Cash was breathing hard, struggling to control himself. Seeing Twist so nonplussed, so indifferent was only making it harder to keep himself in check. “shut up for five fucking seconds and listen.”

The brow-bone crept higher. “’M listenin’, darlin’.”

Cash’s hand clenched closed, and he stepped close—so close he was nearly standing on Twist’s toes. His bones were shaky, jittery. “this,” he said, “this is what I’m fucking worried about. you turn yourself inside out looking after us—worrying about us—but the moment anyone tries to help you or says they’re fucking worried about you, you brush it off or change the subject.”

“’Cause there ain’t nuthin’ ta be worried ‘bout. C’mon, sweetheart, let’s—” He tried to pull away from the wall again, but Cash shoved him back, glaring. Twist quieted, not quite able to meet his gaze.

“don’t. don’t fucking lie to me, asshole.” He inhaled shakily. “do you have any idea what it was like? calling you and getting nothing but your stupid voicemail? teleporting all over town and not finding you anywhere?”

Twist blinked. “Wait, is this about yesterday? Sweetheart, I tolja—”

“i said shut up. and listen.” He pressed on his sternum for emphasis—so hard he wondered if Slim could feel the pressure on his soul. “you disappear like that, after saying cryptic shit all the time? after saying shit about your lv? about your fucking spider? do you have any idea what that’s like?” he snarled, “i thought we were looking for your dust, jackass.”

“Darlin’….” Twist reached for him, but Cash swatted his arm away.

He was trembling now, and his soul felt like it was burning. “you said we’d be better off without you!” He took a few breaths to steady himself. “and here you are, doing the same shit with red. using us to distract him, all while i can feel your fucking soul screaming.” He swallowed hard, glaring at him. “i’ve had enough of your shit. something is wrong, and i’m not going to just sit back and fucking ignore it. not anymore.”

It would have been better—easier—if Twist had gotten angry with him for that. Cash was ready for him to snap and snarl. He was ready for him to shove him back, to push him away. He was even ready for him to try—once more—to put him off with a joke or a bald-faced lie.

He was not prepared for the deep sadness in Twist’s sockets, or the way he leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Darlin’,” he tried again, “I keep sayin’ everythin’s fine ‘cause there ain’t nuthin’ fer any ‘a ya ta do. No use worryin’ ‘bout things ya can’t fix, yeah?”

“bullshit. i heard what red said. we can handle the fucking spider. and we’re not just going to let your judge send you back underground. you belong up here. with us.”

“Patches.” Cash realized that he was crying and took a shuddering breath, rubbing the tears from his socket with the heels of his hand and pretending he’d somehow gotten dust in his eyelight. “Don’ do this, love. Don’ make it harder. We got—we c’n have this. This week’s ours. ‘S somethin’, yeah? An’ I ain’t—ain’t gonna ruin it by worryin’ over shit tha’s already been decided. Don’ wan’ ya ta worry over it neither. Wan’ ya ta be happy, darlin’. Is that really such a bad thing?”

“no. no, damn it. i won’t—”

Twist settled one hand on Cash’s shoulder. “Darlin’, I’ve had three LV attacks in two days.”

“two. it was only—”

“Three. Had ‘nother one this mornin’. At work, when Ella came callin’.” His throat clicked as he swallowed. “’S time, sweetheart. Shouldn’ even be ‘ere with ya. ‘S dang’rous. But I couldn’….” He shook his head. “Couldn’ say no.” Cash’s soul felt like it was beating too hard, and Twist’s soul seemed like it was breaking. He cupped it, dipping his thumb into the crack that split its surface. Twist inhaled shakily. “So, don’ make this harder fer me. Please. It’s how things’ve gotta be. Know that. You do too. So, please—”

“you bastard,” Cash growled, before pulling him down into a kiss. It wasn’t a nice kiss—he nipped at Twist’s tongue, dug his claws into his hip, his soul. “fuck you,” he snarled against his mouth, “how fucking dare you. how dare you—” He silenced himself, too furious to finish, and kissed him again, just as fiercely as before.

Twist dropped the bag of takeout and tucked his hands under Cash’s pelvis, picking him up. He settled his thighs on either side of Twist’s hips, gripping him tight. “Sorry, darlin’,” Twist said against the side of his skull. “I know. I know. ‘M sorry.”

Cash buried his face in Twist’s neck, unable to stem the tide of tears. He shoved Twist’s shoulder. “you bastard,” he rasped again, voice cracking. He was limp in Twist’s arms now, the fight draining from him like a punctured balloon. “you—you dragged me up here. you fucking insist i find something worth believing in again and then—this? you soulless fucking bastard.”

He felt the crushing weight of that empty, dust-lined hall once more. Like a shadow he could never quite crawl out from under. With a sudden surge of rage, he dug his teeth deep into Twist’s collarbone and sunk his claws deep into his soul. Twist swore, unsteady on his feet until he could turn and pin Cash to the wall, panting. Cash pulled back, licking a long stripe over his collarbone and cervical vertebrae. Mana and marrow dripped from his fangs, his claws. “you don’t get to abandon me now, asshole,” he growled, still clutching at Twist’s soul.

“Ya think I’d leave if I had a choice?” he rasped, leaning his forehead against the wall. His whole body pressed into Cash’s—pelvis to pelvis, rib to rib. Cash could feel Slim’s soul reaching from behind Twist’s sternum, crying out with worry and neglect. Cash took hold of it too, holding tight enough to bruise bone. As if remembering their third, Twist’s hand curled around Cash’s, cupping Slim’s soul so, so delicately. “Ya think I’d leave either ‘a ya, ‘less I had ta?”

Twist took a breath, chest shuddering as mana leaked from his cracked socket. “A week, love. I c’n give ya that. But it’s all I’ve got now. No more, sweetheart. Game’s over. Story’s done. ‘Least fer me.” He swallowed, pulling back a little to catch his eyelight. Inside his chest, he felt Twist’s soul aching, reaching for him as if their souls could embrace. “But if tha’s all I got left ta spend, ‘m happy ta spend it on ya. Both ‘a ya.”

Cash swore, grabbing the nape of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. He teleported, not caring that the sudden loss of support caused Twist to stumble. They both fell into the nest, only barely missing Slim, who eyed them anxiously, hands fluttering. He couldn’t have heard what they said, but he had Cash’s soul behind his ribs—he must feel it aching.

And Twist could surely feel Slim’s soul churning too. “Oh, darlin’….” He reached for him, and Slim surged forward, pressing Twist’s hand to his cheekbone. “’S alright, love. Everythin’s fine. Jus’—”

“don’t fucking lie to him,” Cash snapped, straddling Twist’s hips. To Slim, he said, “he says he’s giving up. going back underground.”

Twist glared at him. “That ain’t what I said.”

“close enough.”

Twist shook his head and caught Slim’s eyelight. “It’s my LV, sweetheart. Knew I couldn’t stay up here ferever. After this week, ‘m going back. Have to. Can’t risk stayin’ longer’n that. Ain’t worth it. Not if I….” He looked between the two of them, and Cash snarled.

“fucking martyr. he wasn’t even going to tell us. won’t even let us—"

“Didn’t see any reason ta upset ya,” he said, “Won’t change things. ‘Sides, I wan’ed this ta be good, yeah?”

“it is,” Slim said, “it has been. we can still—" He went silent, sockets wide.

Twist smiled. “Yeah. Tha’s right. Nuthin’s changed, love. Not fer me. Ya know now, is all.” The smile turned rakish. “So show me a good time b’fore I go, yeah? An’ I’ll give ya sumthin’ ta remember.”

“bastard,” Cash hissed again, pushing Twist’s shirt up over his head. He balled it up in his hands, looking down at him. His bones were broad and strong and beautiful, despite Twist’s insistence that they not call him pretty. Cash’s soul ached to see him laid out before him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. It couldn’t end like this.

But Cash knew, more than anyone, that the world wasn’t good or right or fair. Expecting otherwise only led to disappointment.   

“asshole,” he rasped one more time, voice choked. Then he leaned down to kiss him, fast and fierce and grasping. His soul burned in Slim’s chest. Grief was a sharp, sucking hole at his core, and his soul ached to fill it, reaching for Twist, for Slim. “turn over. i’ll give you something to fucking remember.”

Twist grinned against his mouth, settling his hands on his hips. “Yeah? Careful ya don’ make promises yer cock can’t keep.”

With a snarl, Cash flipped him onto his front. “you and your fucking mouth!” Twist snickered, unrepentant, which only fueled Cash’s frustration. “slim—shut him up.”

For a moment, Slim hesitated, but Twist patted the pillow in front of him, still grinning. “Yeah, sweetheart, c’mere—gimme sumthin’ better ta do with my mouth.” Slowly, looking between Twist and Cash, Slim settled into place in front of Twist. He was draped in a blanket but wore nothing else. Shameless, he spread his legs for Twist. “C’n I have yer cock, darlin’? Or d’ya mind?”

Relaxing a little, Slim smiled and put a hand on Twist’s skull. “i don’t mind.”

“make him work for it,” Cash said, tugging Twist’s pants off his hips.

Slim glanced at him, then looked to Twist, scratching along his coronal suture. “you’ll….” He switched to Hands. “you’ll tell us, if you need to stop? if it’s—” He glanced at Cash, who only scowled back at him, ignoring the implicit accusation, “—too much?”

“Don’ worry, darlin’. I’ll tell ya. ‘Sides—I like it rough.” He shifted his hips, pushing his pelvis into Cash’s hands. In response, Cash smacked a hand over his sacrum and ilium, causing Twist to jerk. “Fuck,” he swore, crushing the sheets between his fingers.

Slim stilled. “hey, don’t just spring that kind of thing on him.”

“he said he likes it rough.”

“’S fine,” Twist said, face buried in the blankets. “I don’ mind. Like it, even.”

“that doesn’t….” He switched to Hands again. “i like it rough too—that doesn’t mean i’m always ready for it or that i always want it. you have to ask, cash. even if he does have a safeword—which he doesn’t.” His signs were steady and firm, his movements sharp for emphasis.

“Sweetheart, it’s fine. It’s sweet tha’ yer worried but—”

“no,” he said, in Hands and aloud. “it’s not fine. twist, you need to know it’s okay to set boundaries—even….” He swallowed, obviously choked up. “especially if you can’t stay with us. this isn’t just about us. i—we—” He gave Cash a Look. “—want this to be good for you too. so, we need to ask before introducing things like impact play. even if it is just spanking.”

Twist and Cash looked at him with wide sockets, then Twist grinned. “’Jus’ spankin’, huh? We too vanilla fer ya, darlin’?”

Slim flushed, his cheekbones purple. “not the point.”

“I know, love. Had ta tease ya, is all. But, uh….” He sat up, looking back at Cash. “Rough’d be nice. Get everyone outta their heads—includin’ me. So, spankin’s fine. Belt’d be fine too, but no other tools fer now. Scratchin’, bitin’—tha’s okay. Leave yer marks, both ‘a ya. Wanna feel this t’morrow. Wanna look in the mirror an’ see what we did tagether, alright?”

Slim nodded. “okay. that’s good. and you’ll tell us if you start to feel uncomfortable? or if you need to stop?”

“Yeah, darlin’. Promise.” He resettled with his head down. Cash started to say something impatient, but Slim caught his socket and signed where Twist couldn’t see.

“i know you’re upset, but you wouldn’t treat me like that. you can’t treat him like that either.”

Cash went still. He wanted to deny it, but he very well knew that he’d said and done things to Twist that he wouldn’t ever say or do to Slim. Because no matter what he did, Twist always came back to him with a grin and a joke, his presence constant and reassuring.

not anymore.

He swallowed, the gnawing grief threatening to overwhelm him again. His soul burned—not with need or desire. Rather, it burned like a house fire. Destructive. Devastating. His soul ached, but the urge to lash out, to punish Twist—for what?—faded under Slim’s steady gaze.

“Patches? Ya fallin’ asleep back there?”

He shut his sockets and shook his head. He swallowed, cleared his throat. “you said a belt would be okay?”

Twist grinned at him. “Yeah—if yer willin’, that is.”

Cash nodded. “gimme a minute.” He teleported to his room and returned with a leather belt in hand, not allowing himself to think past the present moment. Slim eyed him with something like disapproval, and Cash felt his sins crawling on his back. “sit up,” he told Twist, handing him the belt as he settled into the nest. “this okay?”

He watched Twist fold it in half, gripping the ends to test the middle against his palm. Even with only a little effort, it made a satisfying crack when it hit his metacarpals. “Yeah, seems fine ta me. That all?”

Cash glanced at Slim. “i think it’ll be better than my hand—i’ll have more control, and it would be more comfortable for both of us.” The impact of bone on bone could become very unpleasant, very quickly.

“An’ it makes a nice sound when it hits.”

Slim relaxed a little. “it does.” He took hold of the belt, studying it as well before giving it back to Cash with a quick nod of approval.

More confident now that Slim wasn’t looking at him so suspiciously, Cash straightened. “yeah. so—how do you like it?”

“Ain’t picky, sweetheart.”

“no.” He shook his head, twisting the belt between his hands. “slim’s right.” He caught Twist’s eyelight. “this is for you too. so—how do you want it? quick and stinging? slow and hard? or do you mostly want the noise?”

“…I think slow an’ hard,” Twist said after considering. “Wanna feel it in my marrow.”

“i can do that. and you want us to bite you? scratch you?” Twist nodded, and Cash noticed that his eyelight was starting to dilate. Inside his chest, he felt Twist’s soul warming.

Slim scooted closer. “are we punishing you for something?” he prompted, and Twist shook his head, smirking.

“Nah. ‘S ‘cause I’m yers an’ you c’n do whatever ya wan’ with me. Tha’s why.”

The words sent a jolt through Cash’s soul, and his own eyelight dilated. “ours, huh?” he asked. “is that why we’re marking you up too? so everyone who sees it knows who you belong to?”

Sockets shut, Twist inhaled sharply and nodded. “Yeah. Everyone’d see an’ know.”

Slim reached out, touching his throat—and Twist lifted his chin to give him access. “if we had a collar…?” he prompted.

Twist shuddered. “No,” he said, voice thick. “Too much baggage, but….” He swallowed, eyeing them. “Wouldn’ mind bein’ threatened with one. If I don’ please ya. If I don’ mind my place.”

“wouldn’t mind,” Cash said, “or want?”

“Want.” His voice was rough and raspy now.

“and…after?” Slim asked, hand on Twist’s thigh. “how do we look after you when we’re done?”

Twist shook his head. “Ya don’ gotta—”

Cash growled. “you think we won’t take care of what’s ours?”

Twist shuddered again, swearing under his breath. “Alright, alright. Ain’t picky, but I like ta be held. An’….” He swallowed. “Havin’ one ‘a ya holdin’ onto my soul h’s been nice.”

Slim and Cash exchanged a look. “good. did i miss anything?” he asked Slim.

Slim shrugged, but signed, “i can’t think of anything else.”

He looked back to Twist. “then get on your knees and put your head down. we’re going to show you a good time.”

Twist nodded and got into position while Slim arranged himself near his head, still draped in his blanket. Twist touched his foot. “Gonna give me sumthin’? Or do I gotta work fer it?”

Planting a hand on his skull, Slim offered a placid smile and shook his head. “not now. later, maybe.” He caught Cash’s eyelight, making it obvious that he’d decided to monitor things rather than participate directly.

Looking back on his behavior throughout the day, Cash couldn’t say he didn’t deserve the warning. He tossed his sweats aside, then smoothed a hand over Twist’s pelvis, trying to remember if he’d ever actually done anything to repay the kindness Twist had shown him. Or had he spent their limited time together pushing Twist away, trying to save himself from pain and grief?

Was it ironic that his soul still felt like it was breaking after all that wasted effort, or just another of life’s many cruelties?

He slapped the folded side of the belt against his own thigh, testing it. Twist swore at the sound of leather striking bone, while Cash inhaled deeply through his nasal aperture. The pain unfolded slowly—like a fine wine left to breathe—and within moments, the initial sting faded to a humming ache. It left a lingering warmth in his femur and made his soul drip with fresh mana.

perfect.

Twist twitched when Cash put a hand on his ilium, thumbing the crest. He pet along the bone, claw occasionally catching on his sacral foramina. pretty, he thought, but didn’t say. “do you want a warning? or should i surprise you?”

Twist folded his arms in front of him and buried his face in the space they formed. “Surprise me,” he said, voice muffled. Nodding, Cash dipped his fingers into the joint where femur met pelvis, massaging the cartilage. He let his hand wander and ran his thumb up and down Twist’s inner thigh, barely brushing Twist’s pubic symphysis when he reached the apex. Twist’s breathing grew unsteady, heavier than usual. “So, ya got a thing fer—”

Cash cracked the belt across his sacrum, and Twist gasped, back bowing as he swore into the pillow of his arms. Cash ran a gentle hand over the spot he’d struck, noting the blush of gold already rushing to the bone. “how’s that?” he asked. “too hard? too soft?”

“Fuck,” was all Twist said, toes and fingers curling. Cash stopped his ministrations until he added, “’S good, alright? It’s—right. Exac’ly right.” He resumed his petting, pressing a thumb into his foramina until Twist moaned. Cash’s soul felt hot, and mana gathered along his pubic symphysis, beading on the cartilage. ours, his soul seemed to hum, reaching again.

Why was it easier to be gentle with Twist when he had space to be rough as well?

He thumbed Twist’s coccyx, and his hips twitched. He didn’t move from his position, though, holding himself beautifully. Cash paused, eyeing him. He’d said they couldn’t call him pretty, but he hadn’t placed any other limitations on dirty talk. And thinking of what he’d asked for—how he’d emphasized pleasing them…. On a hunch, Cash planted a possessive hand on Twist’s sacrum and said, “you’re doing so good, twisted.” A full-body shudder rocked him, and Twist swore again, hips juddering. Smirking, Cash shared a look with Slim. “so good,” he said again, pressing the heel of his palm into his hip joint. “isn’t he, love?”

Slim nodded, smiling as he stroked Twist’s skull and cheekbone. “he is. very good.”

Twist shuddered again. “Fuck. Ya can’t jus’—ya can’t jus’ say shit like that.”

“why not?” Cash asked, pumping his tailbone slowly.

“’Cause….” Twist huffed. “Ya jus’ can’t, alright?”

Cash struck him across the backs of his thighbones, the leather cracking pleasantly. Twist moaned as he rocked forward, fingers digging into the sheets. Cash ran careful fingers over the flushed bone, teasing along his pubic symphysis until it grew slick with mana. “so i can’t tell you how good you look like this?” He struck him again, this time across his sacrum and illia, and Twist gasped. “or how much i love seeing the way you twitch and squirm under my hand?”

“Stars have mercy,” Twist groaned into the sheets. “Yer killin’ me.”

Cash rubbed his knuckle over his pubic symphysis, making Twist jerk under him. He drew small circles in the mana that beaded on the cartilage, until Twist’s hips twitched into his hand, searching for stimulation. Smirking, he cracked the belt across his thighs again, and Twist cried out, hands fisting the blankets.

Slim caught his eyelight, signing, “that’s enough. don’t push him.” He nodded, dropping the belt and pressing his hands to Twist’s inner thighs, forcing them wide. Cash pressed into the v they formed, allowing Twist to feel the heat pouring off him. Steadying his hips, he ground against him, mana pooling in his abdominal cavity. It left his bones feeling hot, and his soul seemed to be reaching for something just outside its grasp.

Gripping Twist’s spine and grinding against his coccyx was good but it wasn’t enough. He needed—

“give me something to play with, twisted.” Twist just nodded, head still buried in his arms. His cock and cunt both manifested, and Cash groaned. Without willing it to, his own cock manifested as well. He slid the head over Twist’s folds, while the back of his neck prickled pleasantly. The spot on his thigh where he’d struck himself seemed to pulse in time with the rush of mana through his bones, and his soul grew hotter, knowing that Twist was likely feeling the same pulse across his femurs and sacrum.

“so generous of you,” Slim said, petting Twist’s skull. “to give him options.”

“I aim ta please,” Twist said, trying for glib, but he was too breathless for it to sound genuine.

“you do, don’t you?” Cash said, more to himself than to Twist.

“Huh?” But Cash chose that moment to thrust his hips forward, angling himself so the head of his cock rubbed against the base of Twist’s. Twist groaned, back arching when Cash reached between them to wrap a hand around their cocks. “Oh fuck, oh—shit,” Twist gasped, thrusting into Cash’s hand.

Planting a hand on Twist’s hip, Cash started a slow rhythm, teasing his cock over Twist’s folds and brushing against the base of his cock. Never giving him quite enough stimulation. Twist tried to angle himself so Cash’s cock would slip into his cunt, or so his hand would close over the head, but Cash resisted his attempts, maintaining that teasing glide.

Twist’s hands clenched in the blankets, and his head bowed as a strangled whine caught in his throat. “Cash. Darlin’. Please.” Cash slowed, resting with their cocks pressed together—insomuch as the angle would allow—and his hand closed tight around both. Not moving.

Twist whimpered.

“please what?”

“Fuck me er ride me er—sumthin’. Please, I can’t—”

Cash leaned forward to murmur against the crook of his neck, “i love the way you beg.” Then he bit down, and Twist howled. He arched into Cash’s hold, hips juddering, and Cash rode him through it, denying him the friction he sought.

Twist groaned. “Slim. Sweetheart. Can ya—c’n ya make ‘im…?”

Slim made soft, sympathetic sounds, but he only curled a hand around Twist’s face. “sorry. you know how he is—cash does whatever he wants.”

Pulling back to lave at the marks he’d left, Cash rasped, “i’d give you the world if you asked for it.” Slim just gave a soft, placid smile, eyelights gleaming—as if to say he already knew that. To Twist, he said, “you too, but you’re too proud to ask,” then sucked hard at his cervical vertebrae, leaving a gold-limned welt on the bone.  

When he released him Twist gasped out, “What—? The fuck’re ya talkin’ 'bout? ‘M literally beggin’ ya here!”

But not for the right thing.

Swearing at Twist for being too fucking tall, Cash straightened, catching hold of his hips. He wanted to hold him by the back of his neck and press him into the mattress, wanted to pound into him—but Twist had said he didn’t want to be held down, and Cash wasn’t sure if that would count. So he gripped his hips and teased the head of his cock over his cunt. “tell me what you want.”

“I toldja—wan’ ya ta fuck me!”

“no,” Cash said, angling his cock so one good thrust would bring him home. “what do you really want?”

“I—what?” Twist looked back at him, sockets wide.

Cash palmed his coccyx, grinding the heel of his hand into his tailbone. “would you stay, if you could?”

“Wha—? Yes! Of—of fucking course I would! I tolja tha’. Tolja I wouldn’ leave if I didn’—” Slim cupped his cheekbones, and Twist looked to him, mana falling in a sheet from his cracked socket. “But I can’t. Can’t risk it. Can’t—can’t hurtcha. Can’t hurt either ‘a ya. I’ll die b’fore I let tha’ happen.”

“good,” Cash said, thrusting home. The air left Twist’s thoracic cavity in a rush, as if Cash had forced it from him. “tired of your lies,” he said, finding a punishing rhythm.

It had to hurt, at least a little—Twist hadn’t been prepped, not for this round—but Twist’s soft litany of thanks and praise made it clear he was enjoying himself regardless. Cash caught him around the chest and drew him up, wrapping a hand around his collarbone. “did you hear me? no more of your stars-damned lies,” he snarled, “no more holding back to save our feelings. you’ve held our souls in your hands, jackass. you’re ours now, and you don’t get to just fucking disappear back underground.” He took hold of Twist’s cock, squeezing. “do you hear me? we’re not letting you go. not without a fight.”

Twist’s sockets were wide, his eyelight blow. He didn’t seem able to catch his breath, and his hand clutched at nothing. “Ya can’t,” he gasped, “There’s nuthin’ left ta fight.”

Slim slid forward, settling his hands on Twist’s rib-bones. Cash made use of the extra support, thrusting harder, sternum flush to Twist’s spine. The borrowed soul caged behind his ribs seemed to reach for them, and his own soul roused to reach back.

Meanwhile, Slim kissed the fresh mana from Twist’s cheek, nipping at his jaw. “you know we still have to try,” Slim murmured.

“But—”

“you want to stay?” Slim asked.

Mana still dripping from his face, Twist nodded, sockets squeezed shut as if in pain. “More’n anything. Stars I do. I wanna—but I can’t.”

“we’ll see about that,” Cash said, just as Slim said, “then we’ll figure it out.”

Twist cried out, and his soul pressed tight to Cash’s sternum, threads of mana reaching between his ribs and threading through the bone. The heat of it only spurred the fire in his own bones, and he thrust hard, raking his claws over Twist’s illia as he came.

Ribbons of purple mana burst from his soul, reaching for Twist’s. Slim’s soul quivered in Twist’s chest, then mana flowed from it like a drop of dye in clear water, before shaping itself into seeking tendrils of mana. Ribbons of purple and threads of gold wound around it, and he groaned when the first thread burrowed deep. “stars,” he breathed, clutching at Twist’s ribs. The nodes at his joints flared bright.

Twist was limp in their hold, but he moaned when two shades of purple mana met his soul, delving past the cracked outer carapace and into the soft core. “Ah!” He seemed beyond words, able only to whine as his soul was flooded.

Cash wasn’t sure what was happening—to them or to him—until the first thin thread of gold and a filament of purple touched his soul. Then he gasped, bowing over Twist’s limp body. A low, gutteral sound escaped him and he panted, open-mouth, staring up at the ceiling as he was flooded with feelings not his own.

Chapter Text

Edge opened his sockets, shaking his skull to clear it of sleep. “Rus?” he asked, “What’re you doing?”

It was pitch-dark in the room, lit only by the orange glow of Rus’ magic. He looked up from between Edge’s legs, tongue summoned and chin glistening with spent mana. “what’s it look like i’m doing?” he asked, pressing Edge’s legs further apart. “i’m showing you a good time.” He lowered his head once more.

Edge blinked up at the ceiling. “Wait.” Something wasn’t right. He tried to sit up, but his body felt unbearably heavy, like something was holding him down. “Something’s….” He squeezed his sockets shut, but the muzziness and strangeness lingered. “Rus, something’s wrong.”

“shhhh,” Rus said, petting his thighbones, “you’re fine, edgelord. i’m gonna take good care of you.”

His soul lit his ribcage from within, casting strange shadows on the wall. They looked like the bars of a cage. “No,” Edge said, while Rus straightened. “I feel—this doesn’t feel right.”

Rus crawled forward, settling his weight on Edge’s hips. “you’re just nervous,” he said, pressing Edge’s forearms into the mattress, “but i promise I’ll look after you. don’t you trust me?”

Edge stared up at him, feeling heavy and helpless and wrong. Red mana painted the lower half of Rus’ face. In the low light, it looked like blood. “Stop,” he heard himself say, “Please. Give me a minute. I don’t—I don’t feel well.”

“of course you don’t,” he said, reaching into Edge’s ribcage and plucking his soul from his body, “you’re in heat.”

Edge stared at the hard lump of rock Rus had in hand. He hadn’t summoned his soul, hadn’t felt it manifest. “No—no, I’m—” This wasn’t right. This wasn’t—was it? He shook his head, but it felt strange—like his skull had detached from the rest of his body, ready to drift away on an errant breeze. “Let me up,” he said firmly.

Rus instead planted a hand on his chest, holding him down. “just relax and let me look after you.” He brought Edge’s soul to his mouth. Edge tried to stop him—tried to pull away, to grab his hand—but the air itself seemed to resist his efforts.

“Don’t!” he finally gasped, but Rus laved at his soul anyway. Black ichor bled from it, staining his tongue and spreading over his jaw. “Stop!”

“what’s wrong?” he asked, while more ichor dripped down his hand. It crawled up his humerus and across his ribcage, blackening his pure white bones while Edge watched in mute horror.

“don’t you want this?” Rus’ voice shifted as he spoke, pitching higher. The ichor cloaked him, dimming the warm glow of his soul’s light until only the gleam of his eyelights remained. “You want this,” he said, in a voice not his own. Rus’ sockets shut, and when he opened them, his eyelights had been replaced by four pairs of deep purple eyes.

“You want this, dearie,” she said, holding his soul aloft.

“No!” He reached for his soul, but his arm was heavy as stone and pulling himself upright took monumental effort. He felt slow and heavy, like he was dragging himself through sand. He reached, reached—reached for his soul, trying to cross the insurmountable distance of mere inches. Her smile stretched wide, amused by his struggles.

His fingertips brushed the edge of his soul, and the world snapped back into place. Edge found himself sitting upright amongst the rumpled nest, arm outstretched toward nothing. His soul beat fast and hard—and safely behind his ribs, still unmanifested. Sweat beaded along his lumbar spine as he searched the room, finding nothing amiss. Rus still slept peacefully beside him, undisturbed by Edge’s nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, Edge ran his hands over the back of his neck and skull, bowing forward. His body trembled from spent adrenaline, and he felt chilled from the sweat collecting on his bones. He took another steadying breath, trying to banish the last echoes of the dream. But the shadowed corners of the room seemed suddenly menacing, as if anything—anyone—could be hiding there in the darkness. He squeezed his sockets shut, claws clenching tight around the sweat-damp sheets.  

Behind him, Rus whimpered, and Edge turned, soul jumping. In sleep, Rus’ brow-bones had furrowed, and he reached blindly into the warm indent Edge had left behind. Edge swallowed, looking at him. He couldn’t help but fixate on how vulnerable he seemed. Rus’ mana nodes were lit up like a neon invitation, and his soul shone like ripe fruit behind his ribs, ready to be plucked and consumed.

He wanted to get up, to check the doors and windows. He wanted to sit with his back to the door and a bone club in hand, ready for anyone or anything that might threaten them. Rus, still asleep, shifted into the indent, nosing the blankets. With another whine, he reached out, still searching.

Edge took a steadying breath.

Rus needed him. Not as a protector, but as a companion, and Edge was feeling less and less qualified for the task. He swallowed and tried to remember what Rus said he would need. A touch on the head or chest, he’d said, but closer was better. With a last glance at the dark corners, Edge laid back down, facing Rus. His searching hand found him, and Rus sighed in his sleep, tucking himself against Edge. His skull was bent, leaning his forehead against Edge’s shoulder and exposing the nape of his neck.

It looked bare and vulnerable. The nodes that lit his cervical vertebrae glimmered brightly, swollen with mana. Edge planted a possessive hand there, wishing briefly to feel leather under his fingers. But a collar would offer no protection on the Surface, so Edge hadn’t asked or offered. Rus sighed again, melting into him.

Though Rus’ whimpering quieted, it didn’t feel as if he’d done enough. His bones still burned hot, and Edge could feel the need projecting from his soul. A need Edge didn’t know how to fulfill.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I should have let you go to someone else.” At that moment, he wasn’t entirely sure if he was only referring to being Rus’ heat partner, or if he was speaking more broadly. “I don’t know how to do this.” The last he said nearly inaudibly.

Rus just curled closer. They were sternum to sternum, and Edge could feel Rus’ soul pressing itself against his ribcage. Mana wept from it, hot and slick, and / NEED / projected from it—demand and invitation both. Edge started projecting softly, pushing back feelings of peace and safety and protection. His projections—typically solid and strong—were wavering and weak, dimmed by his own sense of uncertainty.

Regardless, Rus started to purr in his sleep. Apparently, even Edge’s weak attempts at comfort and companionship were enough. For the moment. He swallowed hard and shut his sockets, wishing he could offer more, wishing he could fulfill that powerful sense of / NEED / that still projected from Rus’ soul. Rus had said that this—just this—would be enough, though, so Edge tried to relax into the embrace. Sleep felt impossible, but maybe if he—

Something slid over his ribcage.

Edge froze. He hoped it was simply his imagination or a lingering effect of the dream, but the sensation of something teasing over his sternum returned a moment later. His spine prickled; it felt like he’d walked into a spiderweb, or like a spider an insect had found its way into their nest. Trying not to wake Rus, he eased away, searching the sheets. He froze again, not understanding what he was seeing.

Thin strands of orange mana had erupted from Rus’ soul and were now threading themselves through his ribcage, wriggling and waving in his chest cavity as if they were searching for something. As he watched, a handful found Edge’s ribcage and wrapped around the bone. Apparently sensing his presence, more teasing tendrils slipped between his ribs to prod at empty chest cavity.

His mind went blank. His bones prickled, and cold sweat broke out along his spine. He gripped Rus’ humerus and shook him. “Rus. Rus. Wake up. Something—” Stars, he didn’t even know how to articulate this. Were those filaments part of Rus’ soul? Was it another creature—some sort of mana parasite? Was this normal?! “Rus!”

Shaking his skull, Rus mumbled incoherently, then yawned. “edge? wha’s—”

Then he too saw the gleaming threads, and his sockets went wide. A soft sound escaped him. Before Edge could say a word, he took a shortcut. The threads wrapping Edge’s ribcage went to dust the moment he disappeared. “Rus!”

The bathroom door slammed shut and Edge scrambled out of the nest. Unsurprisingly, when he tried the door, he found it locked. Voice soft and faintly echoing—sounding almost as if he was speaking from a great distance and not simply on the other side of the door—Rus said, “it’s okay! everything’s—fine.”

It was the least reassuring thing Edge had ever heard him say. “What’s going on? Are you hurt? What was that?”

“nothing!” His voice pitched upward, almost squeaking. “it’s nothing. just…go back to bed. i’ll be out in a minute.”

Edge leaned against the door, trying the knob again. “That wasn’t nothing. Your soul—” He huffed. “I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t nothing. Tell me what happened.”

“really, it’s nothing—”

“Rus. I will break down this door if I have to. What’s happening?” He didn’t answer. Edge shut his sockets, leaning against the door. His soul was beating hard and fast, and he kept seeing those fine tendrils turn to dust on his ribs. He took a breath and started counting. “One. Two. Th—”

The door cracked open, and Rus peered out at him. “you’re gonna get us in trouble with the landlord,” he said, trying to joke despite the visible strain around his sockets.

Edge huffed. “It’s owned by the embassy, and I think you can sweet-talk your queen if the need arises. Now—” Before he could ask, Rus bent forward, a pained groan escaping him. Edge reached for him, but he pulled the door to his chest, using it like a shield.

“i’m fine,” he croaked, and Edge wanted nothing more than to rip the door off its hinges.

“You are visibly and audibly in pain!” He heard the door creak, and he heard Rus breathing heavily on the other side. His soul ached. “Please. Let me help you.”

“can’t,” he said. It sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. “i need to get my soul under control, and i can’t do that while you’re so close.”

Edge froze. “Those threads,” he murmured, “they were part of you.”

Rus made a strained noise. “can i have a minute? please?”

Shutting his sockets, Edge reminded himself that Rus had been patient with him yesterday—patient and kind and respectful. Edge needed to afford him the same courtesy now. He exhaled slowly and let his hand hang limply at his side. “I’m going to go downstairs and make tea. Is there anything else you want?”

“can i have ice cream?” His voice was soft and strained. Edge wished he could hold him.

“You can have whatever you want.”

“will you have some too?”

Edge flinched, but said, “I’ll bring two spoons.”

Downstairs, he forced himself to dawdle, giving Rus more time alone. He wiped down the counters. He checked the doors and windows, making sure they were locked. He took out his phone and verified that his Muffet was still registered in that small desert town. He boiled water and waited for the tea to steep. He dressed the ice cream with whipped cream and chocolate sauce and a scoop of nuts. All the while, he thought of those reaching tendrils and saw them turn to dust again and again.

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he gathered the tea and ice cream onto a tray and returned to their bedroom. Rus had since crawled back into to their nest, but he was now wearing a loose t-shirt and he sat with his knees pulled close to his chest. The thin fabric hid little; Edge could see the glow of his soul through it, and it was already wet with spent mana, clinging to his ribs.

“Are you alright?” he asked, setting the tray on their bedside table.

Rus nodded. “you brought ice cream?”

He passed it over, but hesitated before climbing into the nest himself. Instead, he sat on the edge of the mattress, watching him. Rus stirred the ice cream without eating. “Rus,” he asked, “what happened?”

He flinched, stabbing at the ice cream. “i…” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and jabbed at his food again, before jamming a big scoop into his mouth. He said something, but Edge couldn’t understand him around the half-melted ice cream.

“What?”

He sighed, letting the spoon clatter against the side of the bowl. “my soul tried to—to bond with yours.” A faint flush of orange graced his features.

Edge stared at him. “What?!”

Rus gestured with his spoon. “i know! it’s—i’ve never had that happen before!” He winced again, listlessly jabbing his ice cream. “i don’t know what happened.”

Edge took a moment, trying to order his thoughts. “I.” He swallowed. “Is that—is that normal?”

“no!” He scraped the melting ice cream into a mound, his cheekbones glowing in the low light. “i mean—i don’t know.” The tip of the spoon tapped against the bottom of the bowl.

Edge shook his head, trying to clear it. Trying to make sense of anything. “You said an accidental soul-bond was possible,” he prompted, remembering their earlier soul-play.

“yeah, but—” He looked up, growing quiet as he met Edge’s eyelights. He swallowed and held the bowl out. “do you want any?” Not even remotely. Still, Edge took the spoon and bowl in hand. Rus watched him, fingers drumming on the bunched blankets while Edge scraped melting ice cream and chocolate sauce onto the spoon. He didn’t say anything until Edge took a small bite. “what do you know about soul-bonds?”

Edge looked away, trying not to dwell on the sickly-sweet taste lingering in his mouth. Rus had tried to have this conversation with him before, but he’d always managed to avoid it. “They’re more myth than fact where I come from.” Thankfully, Rus accepted the bowl when he passed it back. He smoothed a hand over the blanket. “I…” He debated with himself, trying to decide how much to reveal and how to say it. “There’s…stories. But the practice was seen as…overly sentimental. And dangerous. A bond-mate would have been seen as a weakness, not a strength. You may as well paint a target on their back.”

“oh.” His voice was soft. He sounded almost hurt.

Edge looked to him. “How were they regarded in your ‘verse?”

“just…part of life, i guess? you date, you bond, you have kids.” He shrugged. “not everyone. some monsters don’t date or don’t bond or they don’t have kids. some don’t do any of it at all.” He looked away. “there at the end, fewer and fewer monsters were bothering with any of it. it was starting to seem…pointless.”

Edge nodded. He understood that. “But it was never taboo.”

Rus snorted. “no. it’s—stars, it’s more wholesome than missionary.”

“Then why are you embarrassed?”

Rus’ cheekbones lit up and he looked away, chuckling. “nothin’ gets past you, huh?” Edge frowned, not liking the hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

“Rus—”

“it’s just—it’s—” He huffed. “coming out of heat with a soul-bond? it’s fine for a cheesy romance book, but that would be humiliating in reality.” Seeing Edge’s expression, he explained, “it’d be like waking up married after a night out in vegas.” Rus smiled a little; he’d always seemed amused that human movies and tv shows could serve as a shared cultural touchstone when the differences in their own cultures were too vast to bridge.

“I see,” Edge said, nodding to himself. His brow-bones furrowed. “You’re sure you’re alright? Those strands turned to dust when you teleported away, and if they’re part of your soul….”

Rus flinched, poking his ice cream again. “i mean…i’m okay, but yeah, it…it hurt.” Edge straightened and reached for him, but Rus just offered a rueful smile. “relax, precious. it wasn’t that bad. trying to get my soul to settle afterward was way worse.”

“How so?”

“just…heat-brain, you know? wait, of course you don’t.” He sighed and said, “okay. you know how your lv acts up sometimes? and you know that what you’re feeling isn’t rational, but you feel it anyway?” Edge nodded slowly.

“well…not completing the soul-bond felt a lot like…well, like you didn’t want me anymore.” Edge’s sockets widened and his mouth fell open, but he was too stunned to know how to reply. Rus held up a hand, staving off his concern. “i know that’s not true. i know it doesn’t make any sense. hell, i’m the one that teleported away! but, uh…convincing my soul of that was…not working.”

Edge crawled into the nest proper, sitting beside him. He tucked Rus into his side, wrapping one arm around his waist. “Why didn’t you let me help you?”

He shrugged, taking another bite of ice cream. “there wasn’t anything you could have done—and having you that close without completing the bond was just making it worse. it was like a weird rejection feedback loop.” He exhaled shakily and settled into Edge’s side. “leaving was the only thing you could have done to help…except completing the bond, i guess.”

Edge didn’t know what to say to that, and Rus seemed disinterested in elaborating further. Instead, he scraped more of the ice cream onto a spoon and held it up in obvious offering. Though the very idea made Edge’s soul roil, he couldn’t imagine denying Rus anything after what he’d just said. So, he leaned forward and allowed Rus to feed him the spoonful. After, he lifted a hand to wipe a smear of ice cream from his chin, but Rus stopped him, tilting his skull to lave at the spot himself.

“You did that on purpose,” Edge grumbled.

“maybe.” His eyelights gleamed as he started to trail kisses down his vertebrae. “hey, since we’re both awake...."

Clearing his throat, Edge pushed him away gently. “Rus,” he said, looking him over, “why did that happen at all? You said it’s possible but not—not normal. Is….” He steeled himself. “Is something wrong?”

Rus gave him an odd look. “whaddaya mean?”

Edge took a steadying breath. “Am I…?” He swallowed. “Are your needs being met? Is there something—something I should be doing?”

Rus blinked, then he started snickering. “yeah, babe—i need you to let me go down on you, stat. it’s the only way my soul will behave.”

Edge huffed. “I’m being serious! If there’s something I should be doing more of or less of or—or something—you need to tell me so I can….” He took another sharp breath. “You need to tell me so I can take care of you.”

Rus ducked his head, shaking his skull. His smile seemed rueful, self-deprecating. A bright blush spread over his cheekbones. “stars,” he murmured, “this isn’t how i wanted to have this conversation.” He cleared his throat and set the mostly empty bowl to the side, then readjusted to sit across from Edge rather than beside him. He took Edge’s hands in his, and Edge felt his soul drop, not sure what Rus was going to say. “edge, it’s not because of anything you did or didn’t do. i just…haven’t spent my heat with anyone i wanted to bond with before.”

Edge’s mind went blank. “You….”

Slowly, Rus nodded, only daring to glance at him as he said, “yeah. i mean, we’ve been together for about a year now, and…and i’ve been thinking that…we might want to start…to start talking about. bonding. maybe.”

Edge stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. “I. Wait—you’ve been thinking about this?”

“well. yeah.” He shrugged. “that’s where we’re headed, right? i mean, i don’t want to do it right now—i mean, i do but that’s just the heat talking.” He shook his head, then said firmly, “edge, when i think about the future, i really can’t imagine myself with anyone but you. i…yeah. i want to bond with you, but…i want to do it the right way.” He shrugged. “i was thinking, once everything settled down, we could…maybe start planning the ceremony.”

“Ceremony?”

“yeah—you know, the soul-bonding ceremony. with the canopy and the candles and….” He trailed off, seeing Edge’s blank look. “oh, wow, this…this really isn’t a thing where you’re from, is it?”

Edge swallowed and shook his head. “It really isn’t.”

“oh. okay. well.” He fell silent for a beat. “so…you didn’t really think about it? before now, i mean?”

“No—not. Not at all.” Except to wonder if such a thing would even be possible for a monster like him.

“oh.” Then he said, “huh,” like he didn’t know how to proceed.  

Edge didn’t either. Eventually, Edge said, “Why don’t we go back to sleep? We can talk about this later.”

“yeah,” Rus said, “later. when the sun’s up, maybe? or when my soul isn’t trying to coax yours into a bond?” He smiled, like he was joking, but Edge was having trouble finding the source of his humor.

Later, once they’d rearranged themselves for sleeping, he asked, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“hmm-mmm,” Rus confirmed, head resting on Edge’s ribcage. He was purring softly, bones loose and relaxed despite the heat radiating from them. Edge had one arm wrapped loosely around his spine, holding him close. The other was thrown over his skull, resting on the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, mind circling. The room was silent but for the sound of their quiet breathing.

After a while, he asked, “What if…what if I can’t…form a soul bond?”

But Rus’ sockets were already shut, and his breathing had evened out. Edge felt a brief stab of envy at his ability to fall back to sleep so easily. He swallowed, trying not to let his thoughts chase him down paths he had no desire to travel. He deliberately turned away from thoughts of his hardened soul or Rus’ disappointed eyelights, but in their place, something worse clawed its way to the surface.

Did he even want to be bound soul-to-soul?

His throat tightened. A soul-bond was the highest form of intimacy. He’d be able to feel Rus’ emotions—and Rus would feel his. So much of himself would be laid bare. Did he want Rus to know how the LV itched at the back of his mind? Or how his anxiety spiked whenever they held hands in public? Did he want Rus to know about the revulsion that flickered through him when they shared food?

Would Rus still love him, if he knew those things?

A pit of pure dread yawned open at the very core of his soul. He’d told Rus that their life on the Surface felt fragile to him, like he was just waiting for something to break the peace they’d made for themselves. Never before had that fragility seemed so immediate, as if he could feel the first cracks forming beneath his feet.

Chapter Text

Twist gasped, back bowing as his soul bloomed. Slim pressed against him, keening, and Twist gathered him up, not wholly sure where his body ended and Slim’s began. Cash’s arms merged with his hipbones, his hands melded into Slim’s sacrum—pulling them both impossibly close.

~

“who’re ya?” the other skeleton asked, looking him up and down.

Papyrus grinned. “No one impor’nant, darlin’.” It would be difficult to explain, and once he got the machine working, he had no intention of coming back here. It had been stupid, fucking around with machinery he didn’t understand. But then, Papyrus was known more for his foolhardiness than his intelligence. “Be outta yer hair soon ‘nough.” He winked at the joke, but the other skeleton’s sockets just narrowed in response. Papyrus paused. “Maybe tha’ one went over yer head,” he said, rubbing the top of his—hairless—skull. “’S funny ‘cause we don’—”

The shorter skeleton stepped closer, invading his space. He glared up at Papyrus, teeth bared. “ma’be i wasn’ fucking clear. who the fuck ‘r you? the un’ergroun’ ain’t tha’ big, an’ the only skelet’ns ‘round ‘r me an’ the Judge.”

Papyrus couldn’t help but grin; between his slim build, shorter stature, and shit stats, it was a bit like watching a kitten puff up to fend off a lion. Chuckling, he twitched his fingers and allowed a coin to dance across his knuckles. “Tha’ right? Well, maybe ya oughta Check me, darlin’. B’fore ya go bitin’ off more’n you c’n chew, yeah?”

He felt the Check roll through him, saw the other skeleton register his stats. His LV. His name. His sockets went wide. “what the fuck,” he muttered, so dumbstruck the expletive sounded reverent rather than appalled. “how—where—who—?”

Papyrus closed his hand around the coin and leaned in close. “Tolja, sweetheart—no one impor’nant. No one worth rememberin’. I’m jus’ pickin’ up some parts, then I’ll be on my way—back ta my own Un’erground. An’ you won’t ever hafta see me ‘gain. Sound good?”

The dim, dark purple eyelights searched his. “whaddaya need?”

He grinned. “Fer you ta drop tha’ fake fuckin’ accent. Ya sound like a kid playin’ gutter-rat. Yer fr’m the Capital, ain’t ya? Own it, darlin’.” He looked around the maze of streets. “Now where’s yer dump?”

He swallowed, and Papyrus watched him make his mental calculations. “i’ll take you there,” he said, in his own accent this time, “for a price.”

Smirking, Papyrus twisted his wrist and allowed the coin to slide up between his fingers.

~

Their bones burned hot, the marrow seeded with fire. Mana thickened the air, rich enough to taste. Twist folded around Slim, their souls grasping each other through their ribcages.

~

"SURPRISE!”

Twist froze in the doorway, staring at the gathered gaggle of skeleton, fish, and lizard monsters. It took him a moment to register what was happening, and only a fraction of a second more to realize he needed to smile for his little brother. “Hey! Wha’s all this?” he asked, looking down at ‘Berry.

“It’s a surprise party!” his brother said.

“WE WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU FELT WELCOME NOW THAT YOU’VE BEEN RELEASED FROM THE DETENTION CENTER,” said a skeleton that looked disturbingly like himself before Muffet had—

“And we thought it would be a good way for you to meet everyone,” said a skeleton that looked almost identical to his brother, but with dulled claws and blunt teeth.

The three of them grinned at him, all sunny smiles and warmth, and he forced himself to return their bright grins. “Ah, bro….” He pulled his brother close and noogied the top of his skull, ignoring his laughing protests. “Ya didn’ hafta do tha’.”

He really, really wished he hadn’t. Twist wanted nothing more than to wash the last vestiges of the detention center off his bones and maybe lie down in the grass and watch the clouds go by. Instead, he allowed the three sunny skeletons to lead him around the room, introducing him to monsters he’d never seen before and giving him the chance to reconnect with the monsters he’d met in the detention center.

It was dizzying, especially since the house they’d been assigned wasn’t especially large. The living room felt crowded and close and loud and—

“’m gonna go outside fer a smoke,” he told his brother. “Be back in a sec.”

“I thought you quit!”

“Last one—promise!”

‘Berry rolled his eyelights, knowing just how much that promise was worth. “Okay, but hurry up—Edge is gonna pass out cake soon.”

Free now, Twist escaped through the back door, pressing his spine to the wood as it clicked closed. He sighed, looking up at the blue, blue sky—and his smile broadened when he caught sight of a purple-clad skeleton. “Cash!” he said, grinning, “There ya are!”

He threw his arm around the other skeleton, pulling him in for a hug at the same moment he realized that this wasn’t Cash. He was about the right height, but his magic was the wrong shade of purple. One of his canines had been replaced with gold, and while his socket was subtly cracked, both his eyelights were lit and his hesitant smile spread evenly across his face.

He was also wearing a collar.

“Sorry,” Twist said, stepping back and spreading his hands to show he meant no harm. “Didn’ mean—thought ya were someone else, sweetheart.”

The other skeleton ducked his head, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at Twist head-on for more than a moment. “you were gonna hug cash?” he asked, speaking all in lowercase. “i can’t really imagine him allowing that.” Amusement made his eyelights glimmer.

Twist felt desire ripple through his soul, immediately drawn by that glimmer. “Heh. Yeah, he ain’t really the huggin’ type, is he? Don’t think he minds havin’ an excuse ta swear at me, though.” The other skeleton gave him an odd look but didn’t comment. Twist cleared his throat and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, running his thumb over the cellophane. “You smoke?”

He shook his head. “quit.”

 Twist sighed. “Yeah. Me too.” Regret tinged his words. He stuffed the pack back into his pocket, sidling up to the other monster. His eyelight wandered a little, taking in the other monster’s slim frame. It occurred to him, all at once, that it had been a while since he’d last had intimate company. He grinned, wondering if the other might be interested. “Ya weren’t inside while I was bein’ in’roduced ta everyone—wha’s yer name, darlin’?”

His eyelights glimmered again, and he held out his hand. “papyrus,” he said.

Twist laughed, short and sharp. “Yeah? What a coincidence—me too!”

His smile widened. “really? wow. small world, huh?”

It was stupid and silly and exactly the kind of lighthearted exchange that Twist needed. He looked up at the sky. “Bigger now, though.” The other Papyrus followed his gaze and nodded. “You been up here free an’ clear fer a while?” Another nod. “Maybe ya wouldn’ mind showin’ me 'round?” The other monster blinked in apparent surprise, then looked to him with wide sockets. Twist offered him his most disarming grin. “If ya got time, that is.”

He swallowed, the easy smile of moments ago gone. His hands fluttered, and he glanced nervously toward the door.

Realizing he’d miscalculated, Twist stepped away and flicked his hand, as if he could brush the words away. “Ah, don’ worry darlin’. I understand—yer busy.” He smiled to show there were no hard feelings. “Well, I better head back in, b’fore my bro comes ta fetch me.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned his back, whistling. Before he reached the door, though, he heard a soft, scratchy voice say, “slim.”

He paused and turned, raising a brow-bone. “Darlin’?”

His hands fluttered again, and then shaped the words, “my nickname. it’s slim.”

Twist’s smile broadened. Speaking and signing at once, he said, “Slim, huh? Call me Twist. ‘S nice ta meetcha.”

Slim nodded and swallowed, glancing at the door again before he added, “i’d like. i’d like that. showing you around. if—” His hands stuttered. “if you still want to.”

“’Course I do, darlin’!” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Ya wan’ cake? Heard Edge was gonna be servin’ it soon.” A thin line grew between Slim’s brow-bones, and he wrapped one hand around his wrist. He seemed conflicted. Remembering the noise and chaos of the living room, Twist thought he understood. “I c’n bring it out ta ya.” Slim’s shoulders relaxed immediately, and Twist grinned. “Alright, sweetheart. Be back in a minute, then. With cake.”

As promised, he returned minutes later with two paper plates. When he stepped out onto the grass, though, he froze. Cash had appeared from—somewhere—and now sat on the grass beside Slim, both of them looking up at the sky and the clouds scudding past. Cash’s hands were extended behind him, elbows locked to support his weight. Only a handspan separated them, and one of Cash’s hands rested just behind Slim’s back—as if he’d wanted to tuck it around his waist but thought better of it.

Twist paused, unsure of himself. Then Cash turned his head, looking at Slim instead of the sky, and Twist’s soul jerked, no longer unsure. Mentally, he revised his plans. “There ya are!” he said, flopping to the ground beside Cash. When Cash reared back, ready to lash out at him, Twist held the two plates up in his own defense. “Be nice now, darlin’. Brought ya cake, didn’ I?”

Sneering, Cash nevertheless snatched up the offered slice. Twist offered the other to Slim with a smile, deliberately leaning into Cash as he did. It earned him a grumble, but he didn’t miss the way Cash’s eyelight roved over him, checking for injuries. As he settled back onto his hands, Twist said, “Slim here’s offered ta show me ‘round. Ain’t that nice?”

Cash froze. “you—” He swallowed, then jabbed at his cake. “yeah. have fun.”

Slim glanced at him, and Twist wondered if they’d been dancing around each other the whole time he’d been gone or if this was a more recent development. In either case, he said, “You should come with us. If Slim don’ mind, that is.”

Slim blinked, but said, “no—i…i’d like it. if you came too.” He offered Cash a tentative smile.

Cash froze again, until Twist knocked his shoulder against him. Then he whipped around to glare at him. “Ya know what they say, don’ ya? Two’s company, three’s—”

“a crowd?” he snapped.

Twist grinned. “Nah. If two’s company, three’s a party, sweetheart. So? You comin’, or what?”  

~

Someone swore aloud, voice low and raspy, and Twist couldn’t have said who it was or if they’d spoken as one.

~

Papyrus tried to forget about the Other Place. Tried not to name it or its occupants.

But it was a hard thing, to forget a whole other world. Harder still to forget the warped echo of himself. The hunched of his shoulders, like he was already braced for an oncoming strike, and the subtle sneer that twisted his mouth, like he was ready to return it blow for blow. So, Papyrus approached his brother with a business plan. He soothed his fears, assuaged his doubts, and then gathered a sample of their product before slipping back into the Other Place.

It was harder to find his Other self than he’d hoped. Snowdin and the Capital belonged to the Judge—Papyrus couldn’t think of him as Sans, couldn’t imagine such a monster shared anything in common with his brother, even something as petty as a name—and so his double kept well clear of both. Still, that left a lot of ground to cover in Waterfall and Hotland.

He finally traced him to a back alley in Hotland, where he seemed to be running a game of baccarat. Papyrus settled in to wait, leaning against the wall. His Other self caught his eyelight briefly, then turned back to the cards, obviously intent on ignoring him. Papyrus smirked, watching the player lose. Again. And again. And again.

His Other self’s hands were as fast as his own, it seemed. Maybe even faster. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the stats to back such a risky game. Just as the player lost their last hand, they flipped the sheet of cardboard his Other self had been using as a makeshift table. “I’ve had enough of your cheating!” the monster said, turning on him. “Give me back my gold, or—”

Twist cleared his throat and stepped away from the wall. “Or what, darlin’?”

The other monster whipped around, staring at him. They blinked dully, and Papyrus saw how wide their pupils were blown. It wasn’t LV affecting their judgement, then. “There’s two of you?” they asked, blinking.

Papyrus snickered. “Close ‘nough, sweetheart. Now, why don’ ya run on home, yeah? Think ya’ve lost 'nough fer the day. Don’ need ta be losin’ anythin’ more precious ta ya than some G.”

The monster looked from him to his Other self, then grumbled a half-hearted, “Fuck this,” before stumbling past him and out of the alleyway. Papyrus watched him go, shaking his head. As soon as he was gone, he turned to speak to his Other—only to find him ducking past a heap of scrap to make his way to the other end of the alley.

“Hey, wait up!”

“fuck off—you said i didn’t have to see you ever again.”

Papyrus jogged to catch up—easy when his legs were notably longer than the Other’s. “Well, yeah, but…”

He snorted. “but nothing. i don’t need you here fucking up my grift.”

Papyrus laughed. “Sweetheart, if ya ain’t careful, more’n yer grift’s gonna get fucked up, an’ ya don’ need my help fer that. Ya know ya gotta let ‘em win sometimes, right? No one’s gonna play with ya no more if ya get a reputation fer fleecing yer clientele. Tha’s if ya don’ get yer ass handed to ya first—an’ no offense but I don’ think ya got the stats ta take the kind ‘a beating yer askin’ for.”

His Other self glared at him, then—

Disappeared.

Papyrus blinked. “What the…?” He whirled around, but his Other self was well and truly gone.

From above, a voice said, “i’m more than just my stats, asshole.” Papyrus looked up, stunned to see his Other self on the roof of the building, glaring down at him. “go back where you came from, and leave me the fuck alone.” Papyrus’ features broke out into a broad grin.

“How’d ya do that?” he asked, “Can ya teach me?”

He rolled his eyelights and turned away from the edge of the roof, walking out of sight. Papyrus studied the wall, then leapt—grabbing hold of a boarded up window’s ledge and hauling himself up. “Got a proposition for ya!” he yelled, hoping to catch his Other self’s interest. He had little leverage for leaping now, but if he grabbed hold of that drainpipe….

“i’m not a whore,” came the vicious reply, “even if i was, you couldn’t afford me.”

Dangling from the pipe, Papyrus dug his toes into the brickwork, scrambling for purchase. “Not tha’ kind ‘a proposition, sweetheart. ’S business.” The screws anchoring the drainpipe groaned, and Papyrus swore under his breath. Quickly, he shimmied up the pipe. Just as metal started to crumple, he reached out and caught the very lip of the building’s roof, dangling by his fingertips.

A foot landed beside his fingers, and Papyrus looked up at his double, holding his eyelight. “what kind of business?”

Papyrus grinned.

~

He pulled Slim close and closer still, while Cash in turn pulled him against his chest with crushing force.

~

The bar Slim took them to was dark and intimate—and quiet. An old fashioned jukebox dominated the corner, record spinning as it played. Twist froze for a minute, seeing a Spider monster behind the bar, but she was tall and statuesque, features dominated by her chelicerae. They shared a species—hell, for all he knew, they could even share a name—but really, she looked nothing like the woman that had—

Slim went straight to her. Twist could see his elbows flex but couldn’t see his hands, so he had no idea what he said to her. He saw the way she turned and surveyed them both, though, saw her chelicerae flex. She nodded, then, and lowered her hands to respond where Twist and Cash couldn’t see.

Interesting.

When they finished their conversation, Slim led them to a booth tucked against the far wall. Twist eyed the canopy that draped overtop the booth and saw that it could be closed for additional privacy. Even more interesting. He grinned, gesturing for Slim to sit first. The booth was designed to sit six, wrapping entirely around the small table at its center. And enabling him and Cash to sit on either side of Slim.

Settled comfortably, Twist eyed the dark wood that encircled them. “Nice place, darlin’. Real nice.”

A glass was set down in front of him, and the barkeep signed, “I’m glad you think so.” Simultaneously, another set of hands signed, “Here are you drinks.”

Twist’s soul jumped at her sudden appearance, but up close, she looked even less like— She dressed conservatively, for one. Black lace rose all the way up her throat, and the hem of her dress swept the floor. There was no hint of softness in her, no feigned kindness in her features. When she looked to Slim, though, her shoulders eased, and her chelicerae twitched. “I’m here if you need me,” she signed, still looking at Slim.

His fingers crept up to hook the collar at his throat. “thanks, chantelle.” He said the name like he was still adjusting to it.

She nodded and left them to themselves, but not before eyeing Cash and Twist one last time. Twist smirked a little. “Sweetheart, didja bring us ta yer ex’s bar?”

A blush flooded Slim’s cheekbones, and he ducked his head. “She’s a friend,” he signed.

Twist just shook his head, clapping him on the back. “Wha’d ya order for us anyway?” he asked, eyeing the drink.

“just cider,” he signed, “it’s her specialty.”

Twist froze, hand outstretched toward the glass. “Ah. Sorry, darlin’.” He pushed it toward Slim. “‘m allergic ta apples.” Cash looked at him, catching the lie. He said nothing, though. “Ya wan’ mine?”

The color in Slim’s cheekbones darkened. “s-sorry,” he said, then stood. “i should have asked. let me get you something else. what do you—what do you like?”

Twist smiled. “Don’ worry ‘bout it, sweetheart. But if ya insist, sumthin’ cheap an’ bitter’ll do jus’ fine.” Slim nodded and disappeared. Twist jolted, then shook his head, grinning at Cash. “So, you ain’t the only one ‘at knows the trick, huh?”

Cash just glared back at him. “what are you doing?” he hissed.

Twist blinked, then sighed. “Yer gonna have ta be more specific, darlin’. Ain’t doin’ all tha’ much right now.”

His eyelight flared. “it’s obvious you want him, so just—” He gestured with his hand. “get it over with. i don’t know why i have to sit here and watch you flirt.”

Twist snorted, reaching automatically for his pack of cigarettes before remembering that he probably wouldn’t be allowed to smoke in here. And, of course, he’d quit. “Well, darlin’, maybe I’m hopin’ ya might learn a thing ‘er two, yeah?”

Cash’s brow-bones furrowed. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means ya catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, sweetheart. Sure, I may wan’ ‘im, but I ain’t the only one ‘at does, an’ I don’ play fer keeps. So, I ain’t gonna do nuthin’ but flirt—if ya wanna call it that.” He shrugged. “’least fer now. If ya keep draggin’ yer feet, I jus’ might change my mind.”

Color darkened one of Cash’s cheekbones as mana flooded the line. “i’m not—i don’t—”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” Twist winked at him, pulling a coin from his pocket to roll over his fingers. “Jus’ don’ take too long. He might start ta think ya ain’t in’erested.”

Cash’s mouth fell open, and he started to reply, but Slim reappeared in that moment, a tall drink in hand. “gin and tonic okay?” he asked, setting it in front of Twist.

Twist grinned. “’s perfect, sweethaert.” He shot Cash a meaningful look as Slim sat down between them.

~

Twist’s ribcage was tight, so compressed by their embrace he couldn’t breathe. Instead of panic, gratitude swam through his soul, and he felt it refracted back to him, filtered through layers of confusion and desperation and determination and / GRATITUDE / / GRATITUDE / / GRATITUDE / / NEED /

~

Papyrus counted out the G, nodding to himself while his Other stood before him, arms crossed. “it’s all there,” he grumbled.

“Then ya won’ mind me countin’.”

His Other self sighed, but Papyrus noted the tension in his shoulders. And, of course, the count was off. Not by much, but he was definitely short. Papyrus paused, eyeing his counterpart. He refused to return the look, glaring at the wall.

Papyrus hummed softly, thinking. His Other self was testing boundaries, seeing if he could skim a little off the top without Papyrus catching him. He wouldn’t be the first. Papyrus could admit he looked like the muscle of the operation, not the brains. To an extent he’d even agree—his formal education was certainly lacking. But he’d learned his math the hard way, and he wouldn’t forget that lesson anytime soon.

His Other needed a lesson too, it seemed.

Papyrus nodded to himself, sticking the G in his inventory and pulling out a carefully wrapped package. His Other reached for it, and Papyrus grabbed his wrist. “what the fuck?” He tried to yank his hand free, but Papyrus’ grip was firm.

He knew what he needed to do.

The first time he’d miscalculated, Muffet had been merciful because of his age and inexperience; she only broken his hand. She’d made it clear he’d lose it next time. He’d had to teach Grillby the same lesson when they first started working together. The missing fingers gave his signs a distinct lisp, but he’d never tried to short Papyrus again.

Papyrus knew what he needed to do.

He pressed down hard on the mana node embedded in his Other’s wrist, forcing his hand open. “what the fuck?!” he asked again, panic creeping into his voice.

Papyrus knew. He did.

Allowing the package to drop to the ground, he used his free hand to grip his Other’s fingers. He swallowed. His Other’s HP was so low, he’d need to be careful and strip the Intent from his actions.

“what are you doing?!” he demanded, still trying and failing to free himself.

Then Papyrus made a mistake. He glanced up and met his Other’s eyelight. The edge was hazed with fear, the socket wide. His free hand flailed as he tried to pull away, but Papyrus had hold of his control hand—he couldn’t access his magic. His breathing was tight and shallow as he tried to tamp down his fear.

Stars, he looked young in that moment. In over his head, playing in waters deep enough to drown him. For a moment, Papyrus wondered if he’d looked at Muffet with the same fear-hazed expression before she’d snapped his fingers one by one.  

Papyrus swallowed. He knew what he needed to do, but instead he offered a grin and shifted his grip, pressing their palms together.  “Heh. Lookit that—my hands’re bigger’n yours.”

His Other stared at him, dumbfounded. “what?” Then a moment later—“of course they’re bigger; you’re half a foot taller!”

“Ya know what tha’ means, doncha?”

Papyrus laughed as his dumbfounded look transformed into one of outrage. “no it—! what are you—? give me back my hand!” This time, Papyrus allowed him to pull his hand free, still chuckling. “asshole,” he muttered.

Papyrus just offered him a wink and toed the package toward him. “Same time next week, Cash?”

The Other, arm still tucked protectively against his chest stared at him. “cash?”

“Yeah. Gotta call ya sumthin’, an’ it’s as good a’ name as any, right?” He turned to walk away, adding over his shoulder, “’sides—ya owe me, an’ I wouldn’ wan’ either ‘a us ta ferget it.” He could feel the Other’s eyelight boring into him as he walked away, the sensation like sins crawling on his back.

Of course Sans noticed. "He shorted you!” he said as he set the last G on the table.

Papyrus sighed, leaning against the wall. “Not by much—gave us 35% ‘stead ‘a 40.”

“Papyrus!” He crossed his arms and stomped his foot. “You’re too soft with him. If he starts thinking he can walk all over you….”

“Ya wan’ I should break ‘is hand, boss?”

Sans flinched—not from the threat, but from the honorific. His eyelights went liquid with hurt. “Papy….”

Papyrus winced. “Sorry, bro. Tha’ wasn’t—” He sighed. “Shouldn’ ‘a called ya that. Yer jus’ tellin’ me what I already know.” He pulled his jacket off, hanging it on the back of a kitchen chair. “But he ain’t from our Un’erground—showin’ ‘im Mercy ain’t gonna ripple out. No one but us an’ him’ll ever know, an’ our reputation won’t take a hit. ‘Sides….” He shrugged, thinking of his Other’s threadbare hoodie, his worn-out shoes. “Think he needs the G more’n us.”

Sans eyed him skeptically, then sighed. “Just…don’t let him take advantage of you, okay? You’re too nice, sometimes.”

The LV weighing down his soul made him feel otherwise. “I won’, darlin’. Promise.”

Sans snorted, knowing the worth of such a promise.

~

Tension coiled through their souls. Twist kept waiting for it to release, but instead, it ratcheted higher and higher, building toward something he couldn’t name. His mouth fell open, and he heard someone—all of them?—cry out.

~

Twist paused in the doorway, watching Slim. His earbuds were planted firmly in his acoustic meati, the music turned up so loud that Twist could hear it echoing through his skull. He smirked a little, watching Slim sway to the music. His hands shaped the lyrics, each movement in time with the beat.

He cleared his throat, but Slim didn’t respond. Smiling, Twist knocked on the wall—loudly. Slim jumped and spun on his toes, control hand raised and magic sparking between his fingers. Twist raised his hands to show he meant no harm. Slim’s shoulders dropped, and he exhaled hard. “you startled me,” he signed.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Door was open, an’ ya weren’t answerin’ the bell.” He eyed the kitchen. “Said ya needed help with sumthin’, yeah?”

“oh—right.” He carefully wrapped his earbuds, stashing them in his pocket. “you—” His hands fluttered. “—you’re good with your hands, right?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Might say that. D’pends on what ya wan’ ‘em for.”

“it’s—” Aloud and with his hands, he said, “outside.” Twist followed him down to the apartment complex’s community garden. It wasn’t much of a garden yet, but Twist could see the bones of it coming into shape. “your brother said you made the raised garden bed in the backyard. i was wondering…” He swallowed, dropping his gaze. With his hands, he signed, “do you think you could…?” His hand faltered and he flinched. He shook his head. “never—never mind. i shouldn’t have…. you’re busy. we’ll just—”

Twist scratched along his jaw, ignoring the last string of signs. “How bigg’re ya thinkin’?”

Slim’s hands stilled. “you—?” When Twist turned an interested eyelight on him, he swallowed and smiled hesitantly. He dragged his foot through the earth, outlining their plans. It was a rather ambitious project.

Twist scratched the back of his neck. “I c’n do it, but uh…d’ya know how yer gonna fill ‘em?”

A shy smile tugged at Slim’s mouth. “earth elemental in B3 volunteered.”

Twist barked a laugh. “Alright, now we’re talkin’! C’n get expensive if ya ain’t got a connection. Next thing—ya got gophers ‘round here? Wanna put in a mesh bottom if ya do.”

As they chatted, Twist kept noticing Slim’s signs—smooth and elegant, expertly shaped. Before they parted, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning close and saying, “Ya know, ‘m not the only one who’s good with his hands.”

Slim’s brow-bones drew down in confusion. Twist caught one of his hands in a gentle grip. “Like the way ya sing, darlin’,” he said, smiling flirtatiously, “Think ya could teach me?”

A bright flush spread across Slim’s cheekbones. He turned his face into the ruff of his hood, hiding his features. “thanks,” he mumbled. He shook out his hands and signed, “nothing to teach.”

Twist pulled away to give him space, not sure if he’d overstepped or if Slim was just embarrassed at the attention. “Well, I c’n come by next week an’ get started here, if ya like?” Still hiding his face in his hood, Slim nodded. “See ya later then, sweetheart—”

Slim caught his hand before he could go. “are you—?” He swallowed, then signed, “busy? tonight?”

Twist grinned. “Yeah—’m dragging Cash ta the movies later. Ya wanna come?”

Slim hesitated. “i don’t want to intrude.”

Twist shook his head. “Nah, darlin’. Ain’t an intrusion if yer invited, yeah? ‘Sides—always more fun with you around. See ya ‘round six?”

He smiled hesitantly, then nodded. “okay. if you’re sure.”

“Very sure.”

After he left Slim, he called Cash. “Heya, darlin’. Wanna see a movie tanight?”

~

Finally, the tension snapped, and they shuddered in relief. Their breathing was rough and ragged, and they clung to each other for support.

~

“Ya got a place we c’n go? Somewhere safe?”

Cash eyed him. “what for?”

“My bro’s got a new product he’s testin’. Wanna know if you c’n move it.”

His eyelight glittered. “yeah. i got a place.” He grabbed Papyrus’ elbow and teleported. For a moment, everything was pitch dark, and only the faint smell of wet stone hinted at their location. Papyrus lifted a hand to summon a mana construct, casting a warm golden glow over the empty cavern.

An old cot was pressed against the far wall, away from a shallow pool of standing water on the other side. Burnt out candles were glued to the floor by pooled wax, and a damp stack of beat up books was tucked under the cot.

Cash sat on the cot, pulling off his jacket as he did. He looked smaller without it, dressed in only a thin grey undershirt and loose pants. “what do you have?” he asked.

Papyrus pulled a baggie from his pocket and held it out. “Here.”

Cash eyed the gumdrops skeptically. “do i look like a candystore?”

Papyrus snorted. “’S a little stronger’n that, sweetheart.” His Other eyed him. “Not tha’ strong. Jus’ THC.”

He took one but didn’t eat it, still eyeing Papyrus. With a grin, Papyrus made a show of taking it. He hadn’t planned to hang around that long, but he understood his counterpart’s reluctance. “Takes a while to kick in,” he said, settling on the floor across from the cot. Hope ya don’ mind a little comp’ny.”

Cash shrugged, then popped the gummy in his mouth. Papyrus allowed his skull to rest against the far wall, sockets shut. “So how’d a kid fr’m the Capital end up slummin’ in Hotland?”

“none of your business.”

Papyrus snorted, cracking a socket open. “No need ta get offended—‘m jus’ curious. Spent plen’y ‘a time in hidey holes like this myself. Jus’ figured someone like you’d have a higher stand’rd ‘a livin’.”

“well you figured wrong,” Cash spat.

Silence fell between them, and Twist reached into his pocket for a coin. “Wanna see a magic trick?”

He stared. “we’re monsters,” he reminded him. “we do magic all the time.”

“Diff’rent sort ‘a magic, sweetheart.” He brought the coin out and rolled it over his knuckles. He made a show of closing his hand over it, then turned his palm over and uncurled his fingers. The coin was gone.

Cash gave an unimpressed snort, but his eyelight stayed fixed on Papyrus’ hand. “you think i’m impressed with party tricks?”

Papyrus laughed. “Thought a guy like you might see the use in ‘em,” he said, still chuckling. He reached forward, pretending to conjure a coin from the air. “Quick hands’re good fer a lot a things.”

“like picking pockets?” he asked, eyelight still following his fingers.

“Yeah, that too,” he said, winking when that earned him an exasperated look. “Got a tongue ‘a gold, too,” he teased.  Cash’s cheekbone flared purple as Papyrus allowed his tongue—gold, as promised—to settle into place. “’S a handy skillset,” he said, allowing coins to rain from his fingers. Cash’s eyelight caught and held on the growing mound. “Good fer getting’ outta some pretty tight spots.” He smirked. “Or into ‘em.”

Cash’s expression—a mix of shock and sneering disgust—made Papyrus guffaw. He wiped an imagined tear from his socket. “But I guess you ain’t the type fer sweet-talk, huh?”

Cash glared, but his eyelight was starting to go hazy at the edges.  “no,” he said, his voice a little hazy too. “i’m not.”

“So, if pretty words don’ do it for ya, what does?” He blinked, swallowing as he realized the drug was starting to affect him as well. The interest in his voice was a little too honest, too blatant.

Cash reached for the pile of coins, plucking one from from the top. “never met a problem a little g couldn’t solve,” he muttered. Papyrus swallowed. The bitterness in his voice said more than words alone.

Then he brought the coin closer to his good eyelight and huffed. “this is chocolate,” he said, glaring at Papyrus.

“Brought ‘nough ta share, though.” Papyrus peeled away the foil and popped a piece in his mouth. “Have as many as ya wan’, darlin’.”

Cash threw the chocolate coin at his head, earning more snickering laughter. Still, he was enough of a gutter-rat to eat the next coin he took. As the minutes passed, Papyrus shut his sockets—the world was starting to go soft around the edges, and he wanted to luxuriate in the feeling.

He heard Cash shift, heard him settle in front of him. He kept his sockets shut, wanting to know what his Other self might do.

For just a moment, he felt a puff of air on his cheekbone, his jaw, and then—

Cash’s teeth touched his in a delicate kiss. Papyrus inhaled sharply, sockets going wide. Cash pulled back, their eyelights locked. Papyrus raised his hand, wanting to cup Cash’s cheekbone, to pull him closer.

Then the reality of the situation struck him. Cash was high. He was high. More than that, Papyrus was all too aware of the unspoken power dynamics. Whatever had driven Cash from the Capital, it had left him with few resources and fewer friends. He had some tricks up his sleeve, but he wasn’t quite street savvy yet, either.

In other words, he was vulnerable right now, and Papyrus was all too aware of the power he currently held. Worse was the possibility that Cash thought this was something Papyrus expected of him—he’d been flirting, hadn’t he?  Had even implied that Cash was in his debt. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption to make.

And, of course, there was that little voice in his head that hissed at him not to think with his dick, and not to let himself be taken advantage of either. Cash wasn’t without his tricks, after all.

In short—neither of them could trust each other.

So Papyrus gently pressed him back. “Sorry, sweetheart. Think I might ‘a given you the wrong impression—I’d rather keep business an’ pleasure separate, yeah?” That was a lie—he fucked Grillby all the time, but he trusted himself to keep Grillbz at arm’s length. He couldn’t say the same for Cash.

Flushed, Cash jerked away from him, and for a moment, Papyrus wondered if the kiss had actually been genuine. No mind games, no strategy. Just pure desire. His fingers curled, prepared to pull him back, but he closed his hand into a fist and forced himself to look away. “Sorry, darlin’—”

Cash tossed something at him. Papyrus caught it, and realized with a start that it was his phone.

“you’re not the only one with quick hands, jackass.”

Cash had managed to pick his pocket. Papyrus laughed, marveling at it. “Guess I oughta keep my guard up ‘round you,” he said, “Been a long time since someone rolled me like that. Good job, darlin’—I didn’ feel a thing.” He winked when Cash shot him a look.

He stopped himself from suggesting Cash let him train up his tongue as well.

~

Panting, trembling, they nonetheless started to pull away from each other. Their eyelights roved over their bones, their souls, searching for any sign of injury.

~

They were at Grillby’s tonight, still waiting for Cash to show, when Twist decided to ask the question that had been bothering him.

“So…wha’s with the collar, darlin’?”

Slim paused with his drink halfway to his mouth. “oh. um.” He touched it, the gesture almost protective. “they didn’t do that in your ‘verse?”

Twist took a sip of his drink, savoring the liquor’s burn. “They did.” Slim eyed him, waiting for him to elaborate. Twist sighed, fingers itching for a cigarette. “Meant someone owned ya.”

Slim nodded. “i guess it means the same for us,” he said, fingering the tag.

Twist felt his spine stiffen. “Yer okay with that? Bein’ owned?”

 Slim shrugged. Lifting his hands, he signed, “if being owned means having someone to watch my back, someone who cares enough to look for me if i go missing, then no—i don’t mind.” He caught Twist’s eyelight, but only briefly. “i see it bothers you, though.”

Twist looked away, feeling himself flush. “Ain’t judgin’,” he said, realizing he’d lied only after he said it. He flinched, took another drink and said, “Sorry. In my experience, bein’ owned don’ mean bein’ cared for. Ya sure tha’—” He used his pinky to point to the collar. “—means the same ta them that it means ta you?”

Slim answered with a small smile. “i am.”

Twist made a soft, considering sound, but didn’t comment further. He could feel Slim’s gaze on him as he sipped his whiskey. “I got sumthin’ on my face?” he asked, wincing when he realized that—though he’d aimed for playful—the words didn’t come out quite right.

Slim didn’t seem to mind. “you’re the older brother, right?”

Twist cocked a brow-bone. “Yeah. Why?”

“nothing. just—” He switched to Hands. “you aren’t what i was expecting, after meeting blackberry.”

Twist snorted, smile caught in the corner of his mouth. “Tha’ right? What were ya expectin’, sweetheart?”

“i don’t know. someone—” He switched again. “—more like me, i guess?”

“Like you an’ Rus, ya mean?” Twist had noticed the pattern. How the other four ‘verses were like mirrors of each other. How his own Underground was a twisted funhouse version of each by turns. It’s how they’d come up with his name, after all.

“and like cash.”

Twist paused with his drink halfway to his mouth. “Oh. He ain’t—” He stopped, not sure what Cash had kept hidden, what he wanted revealed.

But Slim pressed him. “’ain’t’ what?”

Twist grinned a little, amused at how foreign the word seemed in Slim’s mouth. How natural in his own. Then he sighed. “He ain’t older, darlin’. He’s the younger brother.” It couldn’t be that much of a secret, he rationalized.

Slim’s sockets widened. “but he—”

The bar door swung open, and Cash slipped inside, shaking the rain off his jacket—and earning a glare from Grillby as he did. They both fell silent and shared a look, before Twist raised a hand to call him over. “Been waitin’ for ya, darlin’.”

Cash snorted and settled beside Slim. “he wasn’t showing you his magic tricks, was he?” he asked Slim.

Slim tilted his head in confusion, while Twist brightened, digging into his pocket for a coin.

~

They looked at each other, bones still trembling. Cash was the first to speak.

~

Papyrus paused, pulling a handkerchief from his inventory to tie around his mouth and nasal aperture. Dust was so thick on the air he could taste it. He swallowed, throat dry as he started down the abandoned streets of Hotland. The silence was absolute, broken only by his footsteps.

At first, he thought there must be survivors somewhere—tucked away where human eyes wouldn’t see. But there was no one. Nothing. Only dust.

His soul felt like it had been hollowed out. How? And—why? His Underground had been freed. Other Undergrounds he hadn’t even known existed had appeared alongside his on the Surface. He’d known that something was wrong when he didn’t find Cash in the crowd, but he hadn’t expected something like this.

Papyrus swallowed, digging into his pocket for his phone. With shaky fingers, he dialed and held the phone to his cheek as it rang.

Please, stars. Please.

He gasped in relief when he heard the ringing cut off early. His vision doubled, and for just a moment, he saw a long hallway, lined in dust and broken glass. “Cash?!”

The line went dead and his double vision receded. Papyrus swallowed. At least he knew where to go.

This wasn’t his Underground; he didn’t have any secret byways or shortcuts. Still, he made his way to the Judgement Hall in record time. The door to the Hall was closed when he arrived. He shouldered it open, braced for an attack, but the air was still, smelling of ozone and spent magic. There’d been a fight here. A brutal one, by the look of it.

Cash sat huddled at the other end of the Hall. His knees were pulled to his chest and his head was folded over his knees. Papyrus’ soul thudded hard, seeing him. “C-“ He swallowed, mouth dry from dust. “Cash?” he croaked, pulling down the handkerchief.

Cash lifted his head. He’d lost his eyepatch at some point, and his empty, unlit socket gaped, the bone unnaturally frozen by palsy. He dropped his head back onto his knees, dismissing him.

Papyrus took a step forward, shards of colored glass crunching underfoot. “Darlin’?”

“go. away.”

He paused, then shook his head—sure he must have misheard. “C’mon, sweetheart. ‘M here ta take ya up top. The kid—”

A full-body shudder rolled through Cash. He shook his head as his breathing grew ragged. “no,” he said, voice rough, “it’s not over. it’s not over yet. can’t be. they’re—” He took a deep, shuddering gasp. “they’re coming back. they’ll be back and—and i’ll be here. so they can finish what they started.”

Papyrus went silent, not understanding. “Darlin’,” he said, gentling his voice, “C’mon now. Come with me. Our barrier’s broke. Others’ too. Everyone’s waitin’—” He swallowed, crouching in front of Cash. “—jus’ waitin’ fer you, now.”

Cash lifted his head again, and Papyrus could see the purple tears running from his good socket. “what?” He shook his head. “i don’t—what?” His eyelight flared. “you made it to the Surface?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. My Un’erground. Bunch ‘a others, too. Come with me, an’ you c’n meet—”

His skull turned, frantically searching the Hall—for what, Papyrus didn’t know. “you made it,” he said, “you—?! so why…?” His mouth hardened, his eyelight flaring bright. His gaze snapped back and fixed on Papyrus. “why you, and not us?”

Papyrus shook his head. “I don’ know darlin’. I’m sorry. But if ya—”

With a ping Cash caught his soul with blue magic and shoved him back. Papyrus stumbled, but found his footing when Cash released his hold. “get out.”

“Sweetheart—”

“GET OUT!” He was shaking. “enjoy the surface.” He lowered his head again, bones still rattling.

Papyrus stood still and silent, his shoulders slumped. He shut his sockets but shook his head. Lifting his control hand, he summoned his own magic. “No,” he said, at the same time he caught hold of Cash’s soul and drew him upright. “Remember, darlin’. Ya owe me.” Cash’s skull jerked up to look at him. “Think I didn’ notice ya skimmin’ off the top? Ya owe me, an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya go ‘til yer debt’s been paid. ‘ll give ya a choice, though.” He twitched his fingers and dragged Cash across the dusty floor. “Ya c’n come on yer own two feet, or I c’n carry ya outta here. Which’s it gonna be?”

Cash spat in his face. Papyrus just chuckled. He unknotted the handkerchief and used it to wipe the sputum away. “If tha’s how ya wan’ it, tha’s fine by me.” He stepped close, tilting Cash’s chin up to catch his eyelight. More gently, he said, “C’mon, darlin’. Doncha wanna see the stars?”

Cash held his gaze as a fresh tear slipped down his cheekbone. He shut his sockets, and Papyrus loosened his hold, allowing Cash to turn his skull. For a moment, he seemed to nuzzle into Papyrus’ hand—then his teeth clamped down hard on his wrist. Swearing, Papyrus tore his hand away, losing his grip on Cash’s soul in the process. He cradled his arm against his chest as mana and marrow welled from the wound.

Cash shouldered past him, wiping his cheekbone on his sleeve. He paused at the door, looking back at him. “well?” he asked, “are you coming or not?”

Grinning despite the wound on his wrist, Papyrus nodded. “Right behind ya, darlin’.”

~

“what the fuck was that?!”

Chapter Text

They separated slowly, as if any sudden movement could cause pain. Each searched the others’ eyelights, looking for answers.

Slim swallowed, sitting back on his heels as he looked from Twist to Cash. His soul still felt hot, but there was a growing lassitude spreading through it. He wanted nothing more than to settle deep into their shared nest and bask in the warmth and safety of it.

And that was frightening, because something had just happened. Something serious and strange, and Slim knew he needed to be more worried about it. But he simply…wasn’t. Everything felt good and right with world, so when Twist said, “Food. There’s, uh. Food. Downstairs. Why don’ we eat sumthin’ b’fore tryin’ ta sort this out, yeah?” Slim just nodded agreeably. They dressed in a haze, and Twist insisted each skeleton keep his own soul in his chest. “Jus’ fer now,” he said when Slim protested.  

Downstairs, Twist scooped the bag of takeout off the floor where he’d dropped it. “Fam’ly-style work fer everyone?”

Cash nodded, but to Slim’s embarrassment, he found himself purring at the suggestion. Twist paused, hearing that. Slim saw him swallow, then he put a hand low on Slim’s lumbar spine, steering him toward the table.  “Alright.” He swallowed again, and Slim swore he could feel Twist’s anxiety—as if he was projecting, but of course, he wouldn’t be projecting anxiety of all things.

Even that realization couldn’t punch through the contentment warming his soul. Purring still, Slim just leaned into him and kissed him. When Twist pulled away, Slim followed, kissing and nuzzling his clavicles and sternum when he couldn’t reach his mouth. “everything’s fine,” he said, feeling Twist’s fear spike again. “you worry too much.”

Twist looped his arms delicately around Slim’s shoulders, holding him steady as if afraid he’d wander off if left to his own devices. “No ‘ffense, darlin’, but I think ‘m worried the right amount. Cash, how’re ya feelin’? Think Slim might…might not be entirely with us right now.”

Slim chose to ignore that, instead turning his attention to Cash—who was being uncharacteristically quiet. His eyelight was blown, and Slim could feel his contentment. Slim smiled placidly at him, purring again, but Cash shook his skull and looked away, fist clenched. “i’m fine,” he snapped.

“Not feelin’ a weird an’ sudden sense ‘a peace an’ love?”

Cash’s skull jerked around to stare hard at Twist, while Slim just snickered. “how—?”

Taking a breath, Twist guided Slim into a chair. “’cause I c’n feel it, darlin’. Tha’s why’m worried.”

 Slim pillowed his head on his arms, sockets half-lidded. He watched as Cash started to sit across from him, then changed his mind and sat beside him instead. Under the table, Slim hooked his ankle around Cash’s, sighing at the contact. Twist set the takeout boxes on the table, disappearing briefly to grab silverware and plates. He didn’t sit down to eat with them, though. Instead, he started pacing, brow-bones furrowed.

They watched him for a minute. Then Slim said, “you’re not eating?”

“I’ll eat in a minute. Jus’ lemme—”

Cash used his foot to shove the chair opposite them away from the table, and into Twist’s path. He stumbled but didn’t fall, turning on them. “Wha' the hell?!”

“sit. down.” Cash held Twist’s eyelight.

With a sigh, Twist pulled the chair straight and sat. “Happy?”

Slim pushed a fork and a carton of food toward him. Twist sighed again, looking between them. He ran a hand over his coronal suture, scratching. “Right. Listen—”

“you said we’d eat first,” Slim observed.

“Yeah, I did. Tha’s why I got you two settled—but I need ta figure out what ta do with ya now!”

Slim just pushed the carton closer. “it’ll get cold.”

“It’s already cold! Look, jus’ lemme—”

“twist, just eat the fucking food,” Cash said around a mouthful of noodles.

Before he could protest again, Slim said, “you’ll feel better if you do.”

Twist looked between them and sighed, reaching across the table to steal one of the dumplings. Instead of eating it, though, he began pulling it apart. “Don’ s’ppose either ‘a ya know what happened, do ya?”

Cash shook his head, but Slim hesitated. “you don’t think….” They looked at him, and despite the contentment still thrumming through his soul, Slim fumbled his words. Taking a breath, he signed, “it couldn’t be a soul-bond, right?”

Cash waved him off. “that’s a myth.”

Twist’s brow-bones furrowed, and he shoved the ragged dumpling into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Finally, he said, “Think ya might be onto sumthin’, sweetheart.”

Cash glared at him. “it’s a myth,” he said again.

Twist shook his head. “No, it ain’t.” He was solemn and serious, but his anxiety had obviously settled now that they had a plausible answer. “Makes sense, too. C’n feel the two ‘a ya, here—” He tapped his sternum, over his soul. “—an’ I don’ know what else it could be. Question is, whadda we do ‘bout it, now?”

“nothing, because that’s ridiculous!” Cash snapped. Slim and Twist studied him, both of them sharing a quick glance. Under the frustration, they could sense his rising fear.

Gently, Twist said, “Nah, sweetheart. Ain’t a myth.” He swallowed, and Slim felt his LV stir. “Knew a place. Specialized in….” He lowered his head, running his hands over his skull. “In matchin’ a monster with their ‘perfect mate’.” He shuddered. “Had a stable ‘a sweetpieces, an’ they claimed they could force a bond.”

Cash’s cheekbone was pallid, and Slim had trouble swallowing. “that’s just rumor, not proof.”

Twist laughed and offered a cruel smile. “Yeah? How ‘bout this? They, uh, wen’ outta bus’ness ‘cause even the king wouldn’ cross some lines. Set the dogs on ‘em.” He snorted and patted himself for a cigarette—sighing when he realized he was still mostly naked and missing the pack. “Anyway, ya wan’ rumor—rumor is, it didn’t work the way they advertised. Turned strong monsters weak—made ‘em slaves ta the ‘pieces they were bound to. An’ tha’s the real reason the king cracked down on it. Couldn’ abide any weakness in ‘is monsters.” He searched the room. “Fuck I need a cig—”

Cash disappeared, then reappeared with a pack. He shook a cigarillo into his hand before shoving the pack at Twist. Sitting heavily, he took a long drag before asking, “how, then? you can’t soul-bond by accident!”

Twist snorted, smoke curling from his mouth. “Wouldn’ call that an accident, darlin’.”

Cash glared. “oh, so you intended to tie your soul to ours?”

Twist took a drag, shaking his head. “No. But I felt yer souls’ cryin’ out, an’ I answered.” Leveling a look at them, he said, “There’s a diff’rence b’tween an accident and jus’ not givin’ a damn ‘bout the consequences. Maybe I didn’t know what was gonna happen, but I wasn’ gonna leave ya hangin’ like that, souls screamin’.”

Cash quieted, and Slim felt his soul warm at Twist’s words, his contentment returning. Twist looked between them, absently tapping the ash from his cigarette. “But you two…don’ think ya had much choice in all this, didja? Yer heat—”

“no,” Slim said, placid and sure, “i chose too. i wanted you—both of you. and i was going to accept whatever you offered.”

Cash swallowed and stood, but he didn’t move after that. He just stood there, paralyzed. Slim could feel the confusion of emotions tumbling through him—fear and uncertainty, but also a bone-deep satisfaction and fulfillment, his possessive streak mellowed to something more contentedly secure. He didn’t say anything, but Slim could feel him grappling with his own decisions, his own role in their current situation.

Finally, sitting back down, he agreed, “it wouldn’t have happened if we weren’t in heat, but that’s not why it happened.” Hands on the table, he looked between them. “so? what do we do about it?”

“Could try ta break it—”

“no!” Slim’s soul leapt at the suggestion. They both looked at him, sockets wide. Slim swallowed, but said again, “no.” A beat later, he added, “please.” His throat closed around all the things he couldn’t say.

Before he could lift his hands to plead his case, Twist just nodded and said, “Alright. We don’ break it—you okay with tha’, Patches?”

Cash was still looking at Slim. “yeah. i’m okay with that.”

 “Right, then.” He scratched along his jaw. “So.” He stopped, apparently unsure what to say. None of them spoke, but Slim could feel their emotions through the bond, like an echo of his own.

“…it feels right,” he said after the silence stretched too long. “don’t you think?”

Slowly, Twist nodded, though his gaze was fixed on the burning cigarillo between his fingers, watching the smoke curl upward. He looked thoughtful and self-assured, but Slim could feel his apprehension. Cash didn’t react at all, but he radiated satisfaction and disbelief—as if he thought he’d gotten away with something.

Briefly, Slim wondered what they sensed from him.

Then Twist cleared his throat. “We can’t tell anyone ‘bout this.”

Cash glared at him. “why? ashamed of us?” His words were biting, but they could feel the fear behind them.

Twist just rolled his eyelight. “Fuck off—I ain’t ashamed ‘a shit.” Slim smiled a little, settling back into the contented warmth of the bond. “’m worried, though. If ‘berry finds out….”

Cash snorted. “yeah? what’s the pipsqueak gonna do?”

Twist eyed him. “Darlin’, he’s Fell—same as you, same as me. Don’ f’rget that.” He twisted the cigarillo between his fingers before bringing it to his mouth to take a drag. “There’re ways ta kill a monster without raisin’ yer LV, ya know.”

Cash and Slim fell silent, sensing Twist’s seriousness. Exhaling smoke, Twist continued, “Anyway—if we’re doin’ this, we can’t jus’ drop it on ‘im. He’ll be pissed, an’ he’ll retaliate—an’ ya won’ ever see it comin’. Got me?”

 Slim and Cash shared a look, then nodded. Softly, Slim said, “i…i’d rather not tell razz either. at least, not yet.” He tried not to flinch, imagining the look of disgust on his brother’s face. It wasn’t fair—Razz had been working hard to mend their relationship. The worst he’d likely do now was raise a brow-bone. Still, Slim couldn’t shake the instinctive wince.

Cash laughed bitterly. “at least we don’t have to worry about mine.” Twist flinched, but Slim jolted at the mention of the brother Cash never acknowledged. Before anyone could react, he added, “so how do we handle this, then? we can’t keep this a secret forever.”

Twist didn’t say anything. Cash stilled beside him, and even without the bond, Slim would have felt the icy fury radiating from him. “you son of a bitch. you still think we’re going to let you go. after all that. you think—” He took a shuddering breath, as if he was too angry to keep speaking.

“Darlin’….”

Cash pointed at him. “don’t you fucking ‘darlin’ me. what part of this don’t you understand? we’re not letting you go.”

Twist sighed, running a hand down his face. “Ya say that like I wanna leave, but that ain’t it. Tolja—I’d stay, if I could. But my LV ain’t goin’ away, an’ this—” He twirled his hand, gesturing to encompass everything that had happened between them. “—don’ change that. Hell, might even make me more dangerous fer ya."

Cash’s jaw popped, but before he could speak, Slim held up a hand. “promise us something, then.”

“Whaddaya wan’, sweetheart?”

Slim swallowed and exhaled slowly. “promise us you’ll try. you let us help with—” He fumbled a bit but held onto his words. “—with your spider problem. and we look for solutions to the lv problem. heading back underground is a last resort, and we start treating it like that instead of an inevitability.”

Cash looked at him, nodding, but Twist just eyed the cigarillo pinched between his fingers, cherry burning. “twist.” Cash’s voice was a low growl. He looked and sounded angry, but his soul bled desperation.

Head bowed, sockets shut, Twist just asked, “What if I hurt ya? Either ‘a ya? Ain’t—ain’t like we got a big margin fer error, here. All I gotta do is fuck up once, an’ one ‘a you—hell, both ‘a you could be dust. I can’t risk that. Ain’t right, ain’t fair—”

“since when has life ever been fair?” Cash asked. “to any of us. and stop treating us like we’re helpless little sweetpieces. you said it yourself—we’re fell, same as you. we didn’t survive our ‘verses by hiding in a corner and waiting for someone bigger and stronger to come along and protect us. you know what hotland in my ‘verse was like; you know the kind of shit i had to deal with. and slim—”

“i backed my brother in every fight. took most of his kills so his lv wouldn’t get too high.” Until he was forced to stop, at least.

Cash nodded, and Twist was at least looking at them, now. “see? so quit your martyr routine, stop treating us like victims, and let us fucking help you.”

Twist’s eyelight flicked from Cash to Slim. He took a final drag on his cigarillo before stubbing it out. “Alright.” He nodded a little. “I promise—both ‘a ya.” He offered a wan smile. “Ain’t convinced this’ll have a happy endin’, but…” He swallowed. “’m willin’ ta try.”

Cash relaxed into his chair and gave a stiff nod. “good.” He jabbed a fork into his noodles and resumed eating, apparently satisfied that everything was settled.

Slim looked back at Twist. “so, what’s the plan for handling blackberry? cash’s right—we can’t keep this a secret forever.”

Twist poked listlessly at the box of fried rice. “Gotta talk to ‘im. He ain’t gonna like tha’ I spent yer heat with ya—”

“it’s none of his business,” Cash grumbled.

“I know! I know.” Twist sighed, running a hand down the back of his neck. “Maybe…maybe we start slow, yeah? Let ‘im think we’re dating? Least we c’n get ‘im used ta the idea b’fore we….”

“announce our soulbond?”

Slim started laughing, and both turned to look at him. “nothing, just—stars, we did this all backwards, didn’t we?”

Twist smiled a little. “We don’ have ta do it like this, darlin’. Could do this the ‘right’ way, yeah? Start with datin’ b’fore we jump headfirst inta the rest ‘a this. There’s gotta be a way ta break the bond.”

Slim was more prepared for it now, so he didn’t react to the sudden queasiness the suggestion inspired. Instead, he shook his head firmly. “i want to keep it. we can try breaking it if this doesn’t work out, but…i want to try. with the bond.”

Twist looked to Cash. “Sweetheart?”

“you heard the man,” he said, dismissing the question.

“Yeah, an’ now ‘m askin’ you—do you wan’ this? Really?”

Cash paused to glare at Twist. “you’re fishing,” he accused.

Twist sighed. “I’m not. I just—I need ta know yer doin’ this ‘cause ya wan’ to, not ‘cause we jus’…fell inta it.” Cash didn’t reply, and Twist sighed again. “Darlin’, you been tellin’ me ta leave ya ‘lone since the moment we met. Ya can’t blame me fer thinkin’ maybe yer jus’ doin’ this ‘cause ya think ya gotta.”

 “as if you haven’t spent every minute sending me mixed signals,” he snapped. “the constant flirting—until i make a move, and then suddenly i’ve misunderstood things.”

Slim froze, looking between them. He rarely felt like an outsider with them, but he could suddenly sense their shared history—the weight of it. Twist softened, nodding as he looked away. “Right,” he said, scratching that spot at the back of his jaw. “Tha’s fair. I’ll go first, then. I wanna give this a try, too. An’—fer the record, ya didn’ misunderstand.”

Cash’s skull jerked. “what? then why—?”

“’cause, darlin’. Didn’ wan’ ya ta come ta me ‘cause ya felt obligated. Like ya owed it to me. Wan’ed you ta wan’ me, same as I wan’ed you. ‘sides, we couldn’t trust each other back then. Wasn’ the right time.”

Cash swallowed, his throat so dry they heard a soft click as he did. “right.” He nodded, looking away. “then…i think we understand each other. we all want this.” He swallowed again, and Slim smiled a little, reaching for his hand. Cash’s fingers squeezed tight around his own. “and we’re going to give it a try. right?” They all nodded, and Cash exhaled. “good. now can i eat my noodles?”

Twist laughed, reaching for the takeout box. “If ya share.”

Cash immediately pulled the box close and twisted his body, guarding the food. “get your own.”

“Aw, c’mon, darlin’—” Slim hooked a finger around the lip of the container and pulled it away from Cash, pushing it toward Twist with a wink. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He scooped a small pile onto his plate, then pushed the box back toward Cash. “Think by now you’d know it’s more fun if ya share.”

Cash froze with his fork poised over the box. All of them felt the rush of heat that flooded the bond, and Slim’s soul contracted, fresh mana dripping from the crease. Cash glared at Twist. “eat your food, then i’ll show you exactly how well i can share.”

Slim swallowed as both of them eyed him. Twist smiled slowly. “Yeah?” To Slim he asked, “Think yer up fer it, darlin’?”

His mana lines pulsed, and he nodded vigorously.

Later, curled between the two, Slim stared up at the ceiling. He was pleasantly sore, marked by bruises and bite marks. His soul hummed in his chest, answering Twist’s near-constant purr, and the pulse of satisfied greed emanating from Cash.

He shut his sockets. It seemed impossible that he’d find himself here, like this, with them. So fucking happy it seemed like his soul could simply drift away.

And yet…here he was. Here they were.

He curled onto his side, looping an arm over Twist’s hips. He roused briefly, then curled closer, nasal aperture buried in Slim’s throat. Slim smiled at the contact, petting along his spine—and quietly pitied the monster that would try to take him from them. Ella really had no idea what she’d reap, planting such seeds.

Twist nuzzled closer, and Slim felt an embarrassing twinge of need flicker through him. His soul felt tense and tight, just on the verge of cramping. He shut his sockets and tried to force his soul to relax. Both Twist and Cash had just fallen asleep, and they’d been more than thorough in their attentions. Not to mention all they’d done earlier in the day! He shouldn’t need more than that.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the tightness in his soul blossom into pain. On instinct, he pulled Twist close, scenting him. It eased the ache, but Twist stirred in his arms, sockets flickering open. “darlin’?” he slurred, “you okay?”

“fine,” he said, again stroking Twist’s spine. He was—or at least, he should be.

“’fine’, huh?” Twist shifted slightly, so he could survey him. “Ya know, lyin’s gonna be a lot harder, now ‘at I c’n tell yer words don’ match yer feelings, sweetheart.”

Slim winced. “heat’s keeping me awake. that’s all.”

Twist—too tired for real enthusiasm—nonetheless snaked a hand between them, fingers skating over his pubic bone. “Need help with ‘at?” His voice—low and throaty—sent a ripple of want down Slim’s spine, and the careful brush of his fingers ignited the mana pulsing through his marrow.

Still—“y-you’re tired. you were asleep—”

Twist snickered, rearranging their positions. “’s alright, sweetheart. ‘s what ‘m here for, yeah?”

Slim’s magic started to manifest, condensing around his pubic bone. His pussy was still sore, but his cock formed readily, already aching for attention. Twist smirked and settled between his thighs. “wait.”

Twist paused. “Wha’s wrong, darlin’?”

“i-i can tell you’re not….” He swallowed. “you’re tired. and you don’t really want….”

“Ah.” Twist sat back on his heels, looking down at him. “Ya mean I ain’t in the mood? Tha’s it?”

Slim nodded, and Twist smiled at him, the expression warm. “Well, sweetheart, if it bothers ya, then we don’ gotta. Yer right—an’ I don’ think I’d be up ta anythin’ too advent’rous right now.” He winked, still smiling. “But I think I c’n make this quick. An’ then we c’n both go back ta sleep. Sound okay ta you?”

Slim could sense the truth in his words. Twist was tired, and he would probably rather be sleeping. Nevertheless, he was willing, and under that, he was concerned. Still….

“you don’t…you don’t mind? it’s not too much?”

Twist chuckled softly, running a warm hand over his thigh—and igniting the marrow wherever he touched. Slim gripped the bedsheets, trying not to react, but Twist just smirked. Even when he wasn’t in it for his own pleasure, he played dirty. “Nah, sweetheart. Don’ mind. An’ yer not too much—neither ‘a ya. Tolja I’d look after ya, an’ tha’s what ‘m gonna do. Now, ya ready?”

Slim swallowed and nodded, shutting his sockets as Twist took him in his mouth. Slim pressed a hand over his teeth, not wanting to rouse Cash. Large hands locked around his thighs, holding him in place while Twist bobbed his head. Slim’s hips twitched, but Twist’s grip was solid. It was good but it wasn’t enough—Slim needed more pressure, more depth. This was almost teasing.

A soft whine escaped him, and Twist slowed his pace, teasing in truth. On instinct, Slim reached for his skull, but the moment he touched him, Twist pulled off with a soft pop. “Hands ta yerself, sweetheart. I’m drivin’.”

The command sent a jolt through his soul, and his mana lines pulsed with want. Twist caught his eyelight, smirking. Still holding his gaze, he licked a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, tracing it from base to tip. When he tongued the slit, Slim gasped, arching.

Twist chuckled, murmuring, “Gotta do this again later. When I c’n take my time with ya. Look so nice like that, flushed fer me. Leakin’ fr’m here.” He tongued him again, and Slim whined, foot flexing until the bones began to cramp. “Ever tried soundin’, sweetheart? Think ya might like it.”

The image the suggestion evoked—himself bound, his lovers holding him, torturing him in the sweetest way—made his hips buck, and fresh mana wept from the head of his cock. As his arousal crested, Twist wrapped a heavy hand around the base and pumped, thumbing the head. Another whine escaped him as his pleasure began to build. “Tha’s it, darlin’. Tha’s it.” He closed his mouth around the tip, hand still flexing over the base. He hummed, hot mana closing like a vice over his cock, and Slim peaked, spilling into his mouth.

Twist sat up, purple mana streaked over his jaw. He swallowed and Slim pulled him down for a kiss—not giving him the chance to wipe his face. A low growl vibrated Slim’s throat, the taste of himself in Twist’s mouth quelling the heat more than the orgasm had.

Twist pulled back just enough to ask, “Better?” Still recovering his breath, Slim nodded. “Think ya c’n sleep now?” He nodded again, and Twist rewarded him with another kiss. “Alright, darlin’. If it starts botherin’ ya ‘gain, then you wake me up, yeah?”

“but—”

“Sweetheart, I’m here ta look after ya, an’ yer gonna let me do that, understand?”

Slim smiled as a softer sort of warmth spread through his soul. “alright.”

“Good man.” Twist kissed him again, then settled against his side once more.

Slim shut his sockets, the heat in his soul mellowed now to contented warmth. A soft thrumming started in his chest, not quite drowned out by the louder purr Twist answered with. Slim smiled, again wondering how he could be so lucky.

As he turned to wrap his arms around Cash—and to allow Twist to spoon him from behind—the tag on his collar jingled quietly. He paused, suddenly aware of the weight on his throat and the layers of meaning it signified.

The first thought that bubbled up was the hope that Twist and Cash could replace the old, worn collar with their own. The next was the realization that it wouldn’t be right to ask. Twist had made it clear his experiences with Fell-verse collaring culture were not positive ones. Slim couldn’t ask him to take part in it. Besides, they weren’t Underground anymore. It didn’t mean the same thing as it had.

His soul ached a little with the thought. He liked having a physical reminder that he was loved and would be looked after, liked being so publicly claimed. He would miss that, he realized. Then he realized something else.

“Darlin’?” Twist murmured. “You okay?”

“y-yes. just…” He swallowed, tugging on the leather. “there’s one person i have to tell, as soon as my heat’s over. she’ll want to talk to you too. both of you.”

“’kay?” Half asleep, he sounded confused but mostly unconcerned. Then he asked, “’she?’” and Slim winced.

“chantelle.”

For the second time that night, Slim felt Twist’s LV spike. Slim stilled. Earlier, it had mellowed quickly, giving him little time to sit with the sensation. Now, though, he felt it boiling through the bond, like a tea kettle left on the hob. He swallowed, not sure what to do.

Twist sat up, and Slim turned to look up at him, still tugging on his collar. “Ya never told me,” he said, mana dripping from his cracked socket. It looked like molten gold in the dim light. “Never said who had….” He exhaled slowly, deliberately.

Slim didn’t know what to say to that. He cringed, pulling in on himself. Shame roiled through him. Of course he should have said. He should have known—

Twist pulled back, shaking his skull. He covered his cracked socket, as if to stem the flow of mana. “Don’ do tha’,” he rasped, “Ya ain’t got shit ta feel guilty ‘bout.” He exhaled slowly, and Slim could feel him wrestling with the LV, trying to bring the boil down to a simmer. “I’m, uh, gonna go downstairs. Make some tea. I’ll see ya in the mornin’.”

He pulled himself from the bed as if it pained him, then jumped to the living room from the attic access. Slim watched him go, mute.

The bed felt cold without him, but Slim didn’t dare try to call him back.

Chapter Text

Rus woke slowly, feeling warm and safe in their nest. His soul clenched, and he reached for Edge, only to find himself alone in the bed.

He jolted upright. “edge?!”

The bathroom door was open, the bedroom was empty, and there was no sign of Edge anywhere.

For a terrible moment, everything froze in place. Rus could feel his soul beating, could hear mana rushing through his skull. Louder, he called, “EDGE?!”

Distantly, he heard Edge reply, “Rus? I’m—”

He teleported, reappearing in the kitchen below. “—in the kitchen?” His arms were already wrapped around Edge’s waist, his face already buried in his throat, sternum pressed to Edge’s spine. He felt Edge swallow. “Are you alright?” He took a deep breath, inhaling Edge’s scent and nodded against the nape of his neck. “Are you sure? You sounded upset.”

He took another breath, tightening his grip on Edge’s hips. “yeah. just. you were gone.”

Edge was quiet for a moment, then his hand settled over Rus’. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you,” he said slowly. “Did you think…?”

Rus took another deep breath. “not really thinking about much of anything right now, precious. except that i need you, and i need you close.”

Edge started flipping the pancakes, each about the size of a silver dollar. “I’m sorry. I didn’t….” He exhaled and fell silent. Rus could feel how tense and stiff he’d become.

“…are you okay?” he asked. Edge snorted. He started to say something, then cut himself off, shifting the eggs off the heat. “edge?”

He huffed, and when he spoke, Rus could hear the disdain in his voice. “You are in heat. You’re vulnerable—physically and emotionally. And yet somehow it’s fallen to you to take care of me. I—” He swallowed and turned his skull to catch Rus’ eyelight. “I’m sorry. Since your heat started, I’ve been thoughtless. Inattentive. Too focused on my own…concerns to properly tend to you.”

Before Rus could respond, Edge kissed him—chaste and gentle, but earnest. “Can we start over? Let me give this another try?”

“edge, you haven’t—.” He took a breath, trying to order his thoughts. “this is new for you. new and…and scary.” As hard as it may have been for Rus to predict that, to understand it, he knew it now. “you’re doing your best! and it’s not like i did much to help you adjust.” Edge looked away from him, but Rus pressed a finger to his jaw, urging him to meet his gaze once more. “listen, we both could have handled this whole thing better,” he said, when Edge finally looked at him. “we’ll do better going forward. i’ll try to explain things more, and you’ll tell me if you’re upset about something.”

Edge’s throat clicked softly as he swallowed. “Alright. So, when you say you need me close…?”

“in arm’s reach is best. but i’ll be okay for short periods on my own—just, uh, let me know before you go?”

Edge nodded. “I can do that. I’m sorry I didn’t think to do it this morning.”

Rus settled with his chin on Edge’s shoulder. “don’t worry about it.” He started purring softly. “breakfast smells good,” he said while Edge scooped the silver-dollar pancakes into a bowl. “you know those are my favorite, right?”

Edge snorted, and Rus could see the subtle quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Really? What a coincidence—they’re my boyfriend’s favorite too. But, of course, he likes them drenched in honey, with nuts and banana slices on top. I don’t suppose…?” He was already reaching for the honey.

Rus buried his face in Edge’s neck, holding him tight and close. “stars, i love you.” His soul was hot, not yet aching but—he could feel it reaching. His hips flexed and he mouthed at Edge’s spinous process. “you know the only thing i’d rather have for breakfast…?” He smirked, sure that Edge was scowling at him—even as he blushed.

“Regardless of your condition, we are not copulating in the kitchen.”

He snorted. “’copulating’,” he mimicked. “c’mon, edgelord. just a taste?”

Now he could see the flush of mana crawling up the back of his neck, and had to resist the urge to kiss along the heated bone. “I repeat—we are not fucking in the kitchen!”

“who said anything about fucking?”

Edge snorted. “Tongue-fucking is still fucking. Now, if you’re so insistent—” Here, Edge reached back and palmed Rus’ tailbone through his sweats. “—maybe we can discuss this after breakfast.”

Rus exhaled slowly, fresh heat flooding his mana lines. “promise?” he asked.

Edge snorted. “You need a—? Yes, yes, fine. I promise.” He rolled his eyelights.

The heat settled to mere warmth, his soul soothed. “and…you’ll eat with me?”

Edge quieted. Before Rus could prompt him again, he said simply, “Yes,” and started loading food and a carafe of coffee onto the tray.

Upstairs, Rus ushered Edge into the nest, and tension he hadn’t been aware of bled from his bones when he saw Edge settled safely amidst the blankets. “have i told you i love you?” he asked, catching Edge’s ankle as he knelt at the foot of the bed. He pressed a kiss to the joint, gripping Edge’s metatarsals.

Edge snorted, looking at him. He was resting against the pillows, tray safely set to the side. “Yes. In fact, you’ve been rather insistently demonstrating the fact. Now, would you—”

“yeah, but saying it’s important too,” he said, nuzzling the joint. He pressed another kiss to the arch of his foot. “i love you,” he said, kissing the tarsals, then trailing up the fibia. “i love you.” He pressed a kiss to the side of his kneecap. “i love you.” He caught Edge’s eyelights. “i love you.”

Edge didn’t seem to be breathing. Then he swallowed and reached for him. Rus allowed himself to be pulled in for a kiss, then they rested with their foreheads pressed together. “I…” He heard the soft click as Edge swallowed again. “I love you too. I’m…I’m sorry I don’t say it more often.”

A low purr rumbled through his chest. “you don’t have to. it’s nice to hear, but i know you have other ways of saying it.”

Gentle claws scratched his skull, his coronal suture. “And that’s enough for you?”

Rus sighed, settling overtop Edge, with his face buried in his throat. “mhh-hmm,” he murmured. His soul was warm and heavy, and he felt warm and heavy in turn. “could stay like this all day.”

Still scratching lightly along his coronal suture, Edge said, “Your eggs will get cold. Pancakes too.”

Rus nipped lightly at his cervical vertebrae. “and…after?”

Edge snorted. “I made my promise—do you think I’ll break it?”

“hmmm…no.” He grinned, then sat up and reached for the bowl of miniature pancakes.

“I brought a fork—” Edge sighed, while Rus used one of the mini-cakes to scoop nuts and honey and a banana slice into the perfect bite of food. He held the food out in offering. Edge eyed it, then him. “You’re not serious.”

“please?”

“I said I’d eat with you—I didn’t say I’d let you feed me like a child. Give me the fork, since you’re not using it.”

Rus took a bite of food, hoping to hide the stab of pain that pierced his soul. He reached for the fork, trying to remind himself—and his soul—that Edge was allowed to have boundaries. The rejection denial wouldn’t normally have bothered him, but after last night’s upset, his heat-adled soul was still sensitive to such things. No matter how reasonable.

“here.” He offered the fork and held out the bowl, so Edge could stab his own tiny pancake. Seeing him eat eased his soul a little—(Make sure he’s eating.)—and eating himself did the same. Some primitive part of him couldn’t help but purr at the pancakes, viewing them as an offering from his mate.

Stars, he was even more heat-adled than usual.

After they finished, Rus surveyed Edge with a different kind of hunger. “so…your promise?”

Edge reached out to him, and if his gaze was not so heated nor so hungry, he was at least interested. “We went through worst case scenarios yesterday,” he said softly, cupping Rus’ jaw. “Care to show me what a best case scenario would be?”

Rus’ eyelights dilated, and mana flooded his mouth. He swallowed, mana lines thrumming with every pulse of his soul. Still—“you’re up for that?”

Edge raised a brow-bone. “So long as we keep the acrobatics to a minimum, I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

“…your mana levels…?”

“Are fine.” Oh, Rus dearly wanted to believe that, but his skepticism must have shown in his face, because Edge rolled his eyelights and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. “Really,” he emphasized, pulling back to plant a kiss over the node at the rear of his jaw. Rus’ sockets shut, a shudder rolling through him at Edge’s touch. Warm breath ghosted over his mandible, and then—in his acoustic meatus—Edge said, “Show me, love.”

He needed no further encouragement and rolled Edge under him. Or—tried. Instead, he found himself pinned to the bed while Edge straddled his hips. “i thought i was showing you,” he said, looking at their entwined hands.

“You are. You’re going to demonstrate how I might expect to react during my own heat.” If he stumbled over the last word, Rus didn’t notice.

He did notice the strength in Edge’s grip, though, and understood he wouldn’t be flipping their positions unless Edge wanted them flipped. “i thought i could show you how good it feels by making you feel good.”

"I’m quite sure this will be just as pleasant for me.” He shifted his grip, freeing one hand to begin trailing it down Rus’ sternum. Then he paused. “Unless you don’t want to continue, that is.”

“no!” Edge raised a brow-bone, and Rus forced himself to relax into the mattress. This wasn’t truly what he wanted, but it was clearly as close as Edge would allow for the moment. “keep going. just…don’t tease me. i don’t think i can take it right now.”

Edge’s features softened, and he leaned down to kiss him. Rus surged into him, returning the kiss with a ferocity Edge obviously hadn’t expected. When he pulled back, his eyelights had dilated and he was breathing hard. Still, he didn’t break his hold, and he took a moment to settle himself before saying, “I won’t tease. I promise.”

Rus shut his sockets, toes curling as Edge’s fingers skated over his bones to hook his waistband and pull his sweats down around his knees. He yelped when Edge’s thumb pressed to the warm cartilage of his pubic symphysis, mana already slicking the way. Edge finally released his wrists, so he could pull Rus’ sweats off completely and spread his legs wide. Rus’ hands curled over Edge’s head as he began tonguing his pubic bone. As promised, Edge didn’t tease, but began mouthing at his magic-slicked bones in earnest.

Rus’ soul beat hard and fast in his chest. Embarrassingly, he could already feel his magic condensing, shaping itself into a cock. He clutched at Edge’s head, his shoulder, needing more even as his mana lines pulsed hotter and hotter. He could hear himself panting, could hear the little whines he couldn’t quite hold back.

Looking down, he briefly caught Edge’s eyelight, saw his smirk before he gripped the base of his cock and took him into his mouth.

Rus cried out in earnest, already close. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and his soul glowed hot behind his ribs, ripe and ready to be plucked. He wanted Edge to reach in and take it, wanted to feel his tongue on the crease, feel his claws tease the peak. He knew it was a bad idea, knew they’d already decided that more soul-play would be a mistake. Still, it stung that Edge could ignore his soul’s pleading so easily.

Swallowing hard, Rus cried out, “stop! i need—inside.” He was panting, caught in a strange state of panic and need. “please.”

Edge straightened, and his smirk faded. “Rus? Are you—you’re crying!”

Rus surged forward, wrapping his arms around Edge’s ribcage and burying his face in his neck once more. Better. This was better—somehow, he’d felt too distant before, even with his face buried in Rus’ pubic bone. Still, Rus needed more. “please. inside. i need—”

“Okay. I need a minute. Let me—”

“can i? please?”

Edge hesitated for a beat, then nodded. “Whatever you need.”

Rus reached between them, one arm still wrapped around Edge’s spine, his face still buried in his neck. “love you,” he said, “love you so much.”

“I know. I love you too.” His claws curled around the nape of Rus’ neck, stroking the bone with careful fingers. The mana node there grew hot under his ministrations.

“want you,” Rus said, fingers playing over Edge’s pubic bone, “wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” The claws resting on the back of his neck stilled.

“…That’s why your soul was reaching for mine.” Rus nodded, still pressed against him.

Edge felt stiff in his arms, and his pubic bone was dry as sand. Rus knew, all at once, that he’d said too much. “i can wait,” he said, “know you’re not there yet, but i can wait. however long you need. it’s okay. it’s okay.” His voice was breathy, and his soul ached.

Edge’s grip on him tightened, and he folded over him, returning the embrace. “I love you,” he said, “We’ll talk about this later. For now….” Gently, he pulled Rus’ fingers away from his pubic bone and wrapped his hand around Rus’ cock. “Would you mind if I finished you off like this? I…my magic isn’t reacting well right now.”

It would be dishonest to say he wasn’t hurt. Desire burned through his body, making him feel almost panicked with need. Knowing that Edge wasn’t even aroused heightened the lingering sense of rejection, even as he tried to remind himself that that wasn’t true. Edge loved him. Wanted him. Even if he wasn’t in the mood this very second. Even if he wouldn’t allow Rus to pleasure him. Even if he seemed afraid when Rus talked about the future. Even if Rus didn’t notice he’d been starving himself— Even then, even now. Edge loved him. He knew that.

But knowing it didn’t stop the sting of rejection.

Still, heat-adled as he was, he well knew that Edge hadn’t done anything wrong. So he just said, “yeah—that’s…that’s fine.”

His orgasm was quick and unspectacular—a relief rather than true pleasure. After a few moments, Edge started to pull away, and Rus gripped him tight. “stay. please. just…stay with me.”

“I’m just getting a washcloth to clean us up. I’ll be back in—”

Rus’ grip tightened. “please.” His soul hammered in his chest, aching. “please stay.”

Edge cocked his head, but he nodded. “Alright. I’ll stay. I’m here.”

Rus’ soul eased a fraction, but the ache lingered still. 

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the best week of his life, but after that first awful night, it wasn’t the worst either. Papyrus was always close at hand, making sure he had food and water and whatever sweet treat his soul craved. He dug out a stash of horror movies—new and old and many that Blackberry hadn’t seen before—and when all of them grew tired of gore and screaming, he’d read to them or put on an anime borrowed from Undyne.

Blue, though—Blue surprised him. If Papyrus was determined to keep Blackberry fed and to occupy his mind, then Blue was just as determined to ensure his comfort. He rarely strayed from Blackberry’s side. Instead, he sat with Blackberry’s skull in his lap, gently scratching at his coronal suture, or he pulled Blackberry against his side, an arm around his shoulders or his waist. Blackberry didn’t want more, but he didn’t want Blue to stop either.

Once, while Papyrus was out getting food, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What do you get out of this?”

Blue paused the movie to look down at him, hand going still. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you helping me? What do you get out of it?”

Blue’s brow-bone crept up, then he sighed. “I forget you’re Fell-verse, sometimes,” he said, and started scratching his coronal suture again. “I get to spend time with you,” he said after a beat of silence. “I get to watch movies with my friends.”

“And that’s enough?”

Blue looked down at him, something sad in his eyelights. “You don’t think that’s enough? Do you think it’s so hard to look after you that we need something more?”

Blackberry flushed. “It’s—it’s a lot, though, isn’t it? You guys took a week off work for this. I’m—” He was suddenly aware of the spent mana soaking through his shirt, the sweat collecting at the curve of his spine . “—I’m covered in sweat and mana. You don’t want to spend time with me right now, when I’m like this. It’s gross. I’m disgusting.”

Blue stared at him, sockets wide. “You really—” He took a deep breath, then shifted—pulling Blackberry into his arms, and resting his chin on his shoulder. Blackberry made a sound in his throat, half in surprise, half in protest, but Blue clung to him, despite the sticky mana being transferred to his shirt.

Despite himself, Blackberry didn’t pull away. He couldn’t quite resist leaning into Blue’s warmth. His soul hummed happily, pulsing with satisfaction, even as shame suffused his bones.

Before his shame could overwhelm him, Blue said, “’Berry, I like spending time with my friends. And I like making them feel better when they’re…sick or just not feeling well. That’s enough for me.” He squeezed him briefly, the extra pressure making his soul sing. “For the record, you’re not disgusting,” he said, “It’s just mana. The same residue gets left behind if you let an attack dissipate without using it. It’s not a big deal. But if you want a shower and a change of clothes, just let me know. Okay?”

Dumbfounded, he found himself nodding while tears rolled down his cheekbones. Why was he crying? “okay,” he whispered.

It was easier, after that. And as the week passed, his shame lessened day by day. He found himself resting with his head on Blue’s chest, listening to the humming thrum of mana through his lines. He eased into Blue’s touch as he ran a soothing hand up and down his spine. Papyrus was always near to hand, but he only smiled to see them curled together, and didn’t seem interested in interfering. Blackberry was grateful for that too—Blue’s soft touches were enough to leave him pliant and purring; he wasn’t sure what state he’d be in if both of them were so attentive.

Then, Sunday morning, he woke to find his soul had finally dematerialized. He froze in the quiet of the early morning hours. Blue curled around him from behind, heavy and warm and—comforting. Even without his soul’s insistent demands, Blackberry found himself reluctant to pull away. He felt a quick flash of regret—of loss—before he buried the feeling. His heat was over. This needed to stop now.

He slipped out of Blue’s grasp and stood, feeling oddly off balance. Before he could try to sort out his feelings, Papyrus stirred. “DO YOU NEED SOMETHING?” he ‘whispered’, voice still a touch too loud.

“I—” He glanced at Blue, then tugged at his shirt. “Just a shower. I think. I think it’s over.” He looked to Papyrus for—confirmation? approval? He wasn’t sure, feeling vaguely lost.

Papyrus beamed at him. “THAT WASN’T SO BAD, RIGHT?”

Slowly, Blackberry shook his head. “No. It was…” He struggled not to look at Blue. “It was fine,” he said, clearing his throat.

It wasn’t his first shower of the week, but it was the first time in days he actually felt clean afterwards. He pulled on a fresh shirt, and he realized all at once that he’d been borrowing clothes from Blue the whole week. A shamed flush colored his cheekbones. Mana didn’t stain, but it was humiliating to realize he had been getting someone else’s clothes dirty all week.

Still flushed, he bundled the clothes he’d been wearing into the towel and stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind him. He could smell bacon and waffles as he made his way down the hall.

He paused in the kitchen doorway, watching Blue. He stood on a stool beside Papyrus, guiding him through the waffle-making process. Blackberry swallowed, not sure what to say. Finally, he gathered himself to ask, “Um—where’s your washer?” He held up the bundle of clothes. “I-I can clean these up before I go. Or I can—”

Blue waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. You can put them in the hamper; I’ll throw them in with the next load. Are you feeling better?”

“I—yeah. Thank you. For.” He squeezed the bundle in his arms tight to his chest. “For helping me.”

Blue and Papyrus beamed at him. “OF COURSE! IT’S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR.”

Blue nodded. “Exactly. You want one waffle or two? Your mana stores are probably a little low after all that.”

“Two, please.”

“COMING RIGHT UP!”

While they dished him up, Blackberry put the bundle of dirty clothes in the hamper. He started to take the nest of blankets and pillows apart, but Papyrus stopped him. “OH, LEAVE THE CLEAN ONES. I THINK YOU’LL BE STAYING WITH US FOR ANOTHER NIGHT OR TWO.”

Blackberry paused. “What? Why?”

Blue paused in the doorway, balancing three plates in his arms. “Well, Slim and Cash started their heat the day after you did, and Twist will need to look after them until they’re done. Might be tomorrow, but it could go a little longer—everyone’s different.”

His soul dropped. “Wait. I thought—that was real?”

Papyrus took a plate from Blue. “HMM? OH, YES. IT WAS—WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”

“To stop them! They can’t just—they can’t do that!” His soul was beating fast now.

Blue and Papyrus stared at him. Clearing his throat, Papyrus set the plate down and tried to steer Blackberry toward the dining room table. “’BERRY, I’M SURE TWISTED-ME IS TAKING GOOD CARE OF BOTH SMALL-ME AND WEALTHY-ME—”

He jerked out of Papyrus’ hold. “They’re not the ones I’m worried about!”

Blue and Papyrus exchanged another look. He was getting tired of watching them do that. “Twist is fine. Papyrus talked to him—right?”

Papyrus nodded. “YES! HE’S FINE—MORE THAN FINE, IN FACT. I DON’T THINK YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. WHY DON’T YOU SIT DOWN AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS OVER BREAKFAST?”

Blue nodded. “Yeah, you’ll feel better after you eat. I always feel weird the morning after my heat ends, but eating something helps.”

“THIS ISN’T ABOUT ME!” Blackberry yelled, startling them both. “THIS IS ABOUT HIM—AND, AND THEM!” His breathing was rough and unsteady, and his socket burned with unshed tears. “You don’t know him like I do! He’ll let them do whatever they want! They’ll hurt him and he’ll let them and he’ll even say it’s what he wants but—” His breathing hitched, and he choked on a sob. “He can’t! He’s lying. He always lies. He can’t want that. He can’t.”

Papyrus folded him into a hug, and Blackberry found himself sobbing uncontrollably. Papyrus just held him and allowed him to cry, murmuring reassurances periodically. Blue hung back, but offered him water and tissues as they eased him into a chair. They pulled their chairs to either side of him, and Papyrus rubbed his hand over his upper back as Blackberry’s sobs eased to hitching breaths.

“’Berry,” Papyrus began, “what—exactly—do you think Cash and Slim are going to do to Twist?”

 “You know,” he said, voice thick.

“No,” Blue said, “We really don’t. Because it sounds like you’re accusing them of—well.” They exchanged yet another look. “I think you need to be clear with us; what is it you think they’re going to do?”

Blackberry’s expression twisted and he snarled, “They’re going to fuck him!”

“All right…” Papyrus said slowly. “And you think that they’ll do that even if Twist says he doesn’t want to?”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants!” Blackberry snapped.

Blue pulled away like he’d been slapped. “Yes it does.”

“BLUE—” Papyrus tried, but Blue spoke over him.

“It matters,” he said, looking between the two of them. “I’ve gotten enough of this from P—from my Papy to know that it matters. If Twist says he wants to screw around with Cash or Slim—or Cash and Slim or-or whoever—! Then that’s his business. You don’t get to decide who he is or isn’t allowed to be with.”

Blackberry shook his head while Blue spoke, clutching the edge of the table. “You don’t know him. You don’t get it. He can’t—”

“I know enough! It’s not your business, and if it upsets you so much, then stay out of it. They’re adults. They can do whatever they want—”

“HE DOESN’T WANT THAT! AFTER EVERYTHING SHE DID TO HIM, HOW COULD HE POSSIBLY WANT THAT?!” Blackberry shoved away from the table, breathing hard. “It’s not possible. He’s lying about it. And they’re going to take advantage of him—just like everyone else.”

They blinked, and Papyrus swallowed. “Your Muffet, you mean? Ella? You said she…she broke him. This…this is part of that?”

He sniffed, knowing he shouldn’t say more—knowing he’d already revealed too much. He simply nodded. “She hurt him. And now he let’s anyone who gives him the smallest bit of attention do the same. She turned him into a whore—”

They both reacted to the word, Blue by coming to his feet and Papyrus by gasping, “BLACKBERRY!”

“It’s the truth!” he protested.

“THAT—THAT IS A COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE THING TO SAY! ABOUT ANYONE, LET ALONE YOUR OWN BROTHER,” Papyrus said.

He lifted his chin. “Tell me he’s not, then. Tell me—”

“HE’S NOT!” they said, nearly in unison.

“Stars,” Blue said, “it’s not a crime to like sex. And it certainly doesn’t give you the right to call him—” He huffed. “Whatever they’re doing—or not doing—is none of your business!”

Blackberry shook his head. “You’re not listening—”

Papyrus touched his shoulder, turning him away from Blue. “WE’RE LISTENING, ‘BERRY. YOU’RE JUST NOT MAKING SENSE. IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO PROTECT YOUR BROTHER BUT—”

“He doesn’t need protecting!” Blue said, arms crossed.

Papyrus sighed. “BLUE, WHY DON’T YOU LET ME TALK TO ‘BERRY FOR A BIT? ALONE.”

Blue glared at him. “No—he needs to hear this. Don’t pretend that Sans isn’t just as bad as Rus, either. They think because they’re older—because we’re younger—that they have any right to tell us what we can or can’t do with our bodies! It’s not right! And now he’s doing the same thing to Twist—not to mention what he’s accusing Slim and Cash of! It’s not right!”

Blackberry turned to him, trying to make them understand. “This is different!”

“How? How is it different?”

“Because—” His mouth worked but no sound emerged as he tried to find the right combination of words to convince them, “Because you know what a normal relationship looks like!” he finally said, “He doesn’t! He doesn’t even know what he really wants out of a relationship!”

He expected Blue to soften, to admit that of course Twist couldn’t know what a healthy, happy relationship was. But Blue just stared him down. “Maybe they aren’t looking for a relationship. Maybe they just want to have some fun while they’re in heat.”

“BLUE—”

“That’s even worse!” he said, and Blue’s sockets narrowed.

“Why? What’s so wrong with that?”

“BLUE, I REALLY THINK YOU SHOULD LET ME HANDLE THIS.”

“No, I want to know why he thinks Slim and Cash are rapists, why he thinks his brother’s a whore for having a good time with some friends. Well?”

He felt off balance again, not understanding why Blue—who had been so kind to him when he was at his most vulnerable—was looking at him with murder in his eyelights. “I just want him to be happy,” he said finally, voice cracking, “I want him to be safe.”

Blue’s expression softened, but his voice was firm as he said, “Then leave them alone. Cash and Slim aren’t going to hurt him, and Twist is more than capable of making his own decisions.”

“Then why does he keep making the wrong ones?!” A dam burst inside him, and everything came pouring out.

“He brought us to her doorstep! He let her abuse him—over and over. She sold me—” He choked on a sob. “—and he-he didn’t stop it.” He took a deep, hitching breath. “He let her into our lives, let her hurt him, let her tear us apart, and he’s letting her do it again now!” He looked between them. “How am I supposed to believe him? How am I supposed to trust his judgement? Would you?” He looked between the two of them, searching their expressions.  

Blue’s anger had melted into horror, and Papyrus’ expression was a frozen rictus. Finally, Papyrus took a breath and reached for him. “ALL RIGHT. UM. WELL. WE ARE—WE ARE WORKING ON THE-THE ELLA PROBLEM—”

“Did you say she sold you?”

“BLUE, PLEASE. NOT. NOT NOW. WE CAN DISCUSS THAT LATER. FOR NOW, LET’S. LET’S HAVE BREAKFAST AND-AND AGREE TO LEAVE TWIST AND THE OTHERS ALONE FOR THE TIME BEING. CAN WE DO THAT?”

“No!” Blackberry said, “You’re not—you’re still not listening! Cash isn’t any different; he takes and takes and Papy lets him get away with it! He’ll hurt him, and Papy won’t do anything to stop it.”

Papyrus took a deep breath. “WHAT IF. WHAT IF I CHECK ON THEM FOR YOU?”

Blackberry stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“I CAN GO OVER THERE AND MAKE SURE TWISTED-ME IS OKAY. WOULD THAT MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER?”

Blackberry considered that. Did he trust Papyrus to see the truth? “He’ll lie to you.”

Papyrus sighed again. “’BERRY, HOW DO YOU KNOW HE’S LYING?”

He scoffed. “Because he can’t possibly be telling the truth.”

This time, Blue reached for him. “At a certain point, you just have to trust him, you know.”

He jerked away. “No—”

“Yes.” Blue caught and held his gaze. “Even if he makes choices you wouldn’t make, when he’s talking about his own experiences, you just have to take him at his word. Maybe he is lying, but what can you do if he is? You can’t stop him, Blackberry. It’s his life. His decisions don’t have to involve you, now—you’re an adult too, and you have your own decisions to make. You need to respect his choices, though.”

Blackberry stared at him, and when he looked to Papyrus, he nodded and echoed Blue’s words. “I KNOW YOU—AND HE—HAVE BEEN THROUGH A LOT, BUT BLUE’S RIGHT. TWISTED-ME IS AN ADULT AND HE CAN MAKE HIS OWN DECISIONS. YOU CAN’T USE HIS PAST AS A JUSTIFICATION TO CONTROL HIM. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

They looked at him earnestly, studying his expression, and Blackberry realized that they wouldn’t help him. Not with this.

So he furrowed his brow-bones and looked between them. “I…I suppose you’re right,” he said, toeing the carpet. “There’s really nothing I can do, is there?”

Blue nodded, while Papyrus smiled. “Just let him know you’re there for him. That way, if he is lying, then he knows he has somewhere safe to go if he needs it. For what it’s worth, I think you’ve misjudged Slim and Cash. I think Twist is good for them, and I think Slim’s good for Twist and Cash.” Blackberry felt his soul twist at those words. His knuckles flexed, but he forced his hand to relax. “And Cash—”

“CASH HAS COME A LONG WAY. HE’S LIKE A FERAL CAT. ONCE YOU GET PAST THE CLAWS AND THE TEETH, I’M SURE HE’S VERY NICE.”

“And he wouldn’t hurt Twist the way you’re afraid of,” Blue said, giving Papyrus a look. “He’s more likely to hurt his feelings than anything else, and that’s part of life. You can’t—and shouldn’t—try to protect him from that. Right?”

“PRECISELY!”

They both looked to him expectantly, and he gave a slow, reluctant nod. “Right,” he said carefully. “I’m sure you guys know best.” He bit his tongue, silencing numerous sarcastic additions he’d like to make to that statement. They visibly relaxed and coaxed him into sitting down and eating the now-cold waffles.

After breakfast, Papyrus excused himself, saying he was going to check in on Twist and Slim and Cash. Blackberry pretended to be grateful, though after their conversation, he had little hope that Papyrus would actually be much help in this. He wouldn’t even know what to look for, wouldn’t know his brother’s tells. Still, Blackberry had accepted he would need to bide his time, so when Blue suggested they watch a movie, he readily agreed.

As they settled onto the couch, Blackberry surprised himself by instinctively leaning into Blue. He started and pulled away. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to….”

But Blue just smiled at him, his expression gentle. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. It’s not uncommon to have some lingering feelings after someone sees you through your heat. It’s why most people choose a romantic partner or a close friend—it makes things less awkward afterward.” He shrugged. “It’s okay if you want to sit a little closer—I don’t mind. And I know that’s where it stops for you, so no need to worry I’m misinterpreting things.”

Slowly, Blackberry eased back into the space beside Blue. He shut his sockets, realizing that his proximity made his soul hum happily. Blue’s warmth, his subtle scent—mixed with the scent of Blackberry’s mana—were a comfort, especially after the earlier argument. Even if he couldn’t rely on Blue’s help with Papy, he realized he wouldn’t mind deepening their friendship. Blue was easy to be around, and he’d proven himself trustworthy.

As the credits played, he said, “Thanks again. For everything.” This time, he felt no shame, only gratitude.

“It was no problem. Next year, I’ll be happy to do it again, if you like.”

Blackberry shut his sockets, trying not to flinch at the reminder that this would happen every year. At least he now knew what he was dealing with, and he had someone he could trust to see him through.

The rising scream of the opening kill made him open his sockets again. For a while, he lost himself in the movie. There was a strange comfort in it, despite the bloodshed. The killer’s motives were unknown, but it was obvious enough who his next target would be, signaled through the language of film and storytelling. The gore was graphic but absurd—the blood too dark, the screaming too loud, the torn flesh gummy and plastic looking. (He well knew what blood looked like, knew that screaming often wasn’t possible, knew that flesh did not rend so easily.)

Midway through, Blue stood and went to make popcorn, leaving the screen paused right before the knife came down on a hapless couple. Blackberry studied the scene, focused on the girls’ eyes. He thought he could see the camera and camera operator reflected in her irises, knew the gleam was a reflection of the stage lights.

Blue sat heavily beside him, popcorn balanced on his thighs. He didn’t unpause the movie, though. Instead, he said, “’Berry, can I—can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want. It’s none of my business, really—”

“What is it?”

Blue hesitated still, apparently trying to gather his thoughts. “You said…she sold you. What-what happened?”

He nearly laughed, tension draining from his bones. “Oh, that. It wasn’t—it wasn’t that big of a deal. I mean, yeah, I was scared at the time, but I think it was for the best, honestly. Prince Asriel kept me safe, and he never hurt me. Staying with him was way better than living with her. The worst part—” His throat tightened. “—was not knowing what happened to Papy. We didn’t see each other for nearly a year, and when we did find each other again….”

He swallowed. “He’d managed to get away from her, but he barely looked like himself anymore.” He touched his own cheekbone, remembering the first time he’d seen the scars. “He’d gained 4 LV since I saw him. Lost weight. And his face….” He swallowed. “It was like meeting a stranger.”

He could feel Blue’s eyelights on him. After a while, Blue said, “I’m sorry.” He put an arm over Blackberry’s shoulders, pulling him to his side. “I can’t imagine going through that. I can see why you….” He shut his sockets, shaking his head slightly.

Then, when he looked at Blackberry again, he asked. “Have you thought about talking to a therapist about any of this?”

Blackberry blinked. “What? Why? I told you—I was fine. Papy’s the one that suffered.”

It’s why he needs me to look after him, he didn’t say. He can’t look after himself, so I have to. He falls apart if I don’t. He swallowed the words back, knowing Blue would take offense, knowing he couldn’t understand.

“’Berry…she sold you into slavery.  And it sound like you’ve seen some…some really horrifying things. You can’t tell me that didn’t affect you.”

“Of course it did.” It showed him how the world worked, taught him how to navigate it. He shrugged, looking back at the movie. “But I’m fine. I don’t need therapy.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Blue said gently, “Seeing a therapist. Most of the monsters with LV had some sessions before they were let out of the centers.”

Blackberry snorted. “Yeah. Wonder how helpful that was.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked to Blue. “You’re joking, right? Those sessions were mandatory. You really think Papy—you think Edge or Razz—spilled their guts to some human?” He shook his head. “No, they said what they needed to say to get out of the detention centers. They were there to convince the humans they could be let out onto the Surface. That’s all.”

Blue was quiet for a few beats, then—slowly—he said, “I guess that’s understandable. I hope some of them consider going on their own, though, to get help. I think it would be good for them.”

Uncomfortable, Blackberry made a noncommittal sound and reached over Blue to grab the controller. “Why don’t we start the movie again?” he suggested. When Blue nodded, he hit play and settled back into his comfortable position.

Just as the killer brought the knife down and the girl began screaming, spraying too-black blood across the screen.

Chapter Text

Papyrus drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to decide how he wanted to approach this. He was tempted to call Red—for company, for support, for his insights into how Fell-verse monsters think—but eventually, he decided it might be best to handle this privately. Besides, he knew how they saw him. Innocent. Nonthreatening. The Fell monsters made allowances for him that they wouldn’t make if Red was with him. And, if he played his cards right, he could use that.

So he didn’t call.

His first stop was the embassy. Undyne seemed relieved to see him, and Hook urgently ushered him into her office. “Got an update on Trouble,” she said, sliding a folder over to him. “It’s…not great, but it could be worse.”

“Scales agreed to back off and let us handle this,” Undyne said.

Hook grunted. “So long as he keeps his nose clean.”

Papyrus smiled brightly. “WELL SEEING AS HE DOESN’T HAVE ONE, THAT SHOULDN’T BE DIFFICULT AT ALL!” Undyne groaned at the joke, while Papyrus began flipping through the folder. “ONE OF OUR LAWYERS PUT THIS TOGETHER?”

Undyne shook her head. “No. Embassy lawyers all specialize in civil rights. This is different. Jack—Twist’s boss, former war mage, you remember her?—” Papyrus nodded. “—got us in touch with an organization that specializes in domestic violence, stalking, stuff like that. Lawyer would be premature at this stage, they said, but they did tell us that we need to start documenting everything. According to them, the police aren’t going to be much help right now either—technically, she hasn’t broken any laws.”

Hook huffed. “Basically, they won’t do anything until someone gets hurt.”

“AND IF WE GET TO THAT POINT…”

“Scales says they both go back Underground, where they can sort themselves out.”

Papyrus winced, closing the thin folder. “SO…WHAT’S THE PLAN, EXACTLY?”

“We can try for a restraining order,” Undyne said, “She’ll have to keep away from him—won’t be allowed to contact him in any way, in fact. But we have to prove she’s harassing him before a judge—a human judge—will approve it.”

“Which means we need Trouble to tell us everything she’s done since she reached the Surface. So far, we just have the reports from that night at C’s, and Jack and Mel’s testimony from last week. We’ll need more to prove she’s actually harassing him, and not just running into him as she goes about her business.”

Papyrus nodded. “I’LL TALK TO HIM. HE’S BEEN A LITTLE RELUCTANT TO SHARE, BUT IF HE KNOWS THERE’S SOMETHING WE CAN DO TO HELP, MAYBE HE’LL BE MORE COOPERATIVE.”

Undyne nodded, but Hook’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. He looked to her. “SOMETHING ELSE ON YOUR MIND?” She glanced at Undyne, who gave a subtle head shake. Papyrus sighed. “IF EITHER OF YOU THINK THERE MIGHT BE A PROBLEM WITH THIS PLAN, I’D LIKE TO BE MADE AWARE BEFORE WE PURSUE IT, PLEASE.”

“Nah, Pap. There’s no problem—”

“Enforcement,” Hook said, dodging the elbow Undyne threw at her ribs. “A restraining order’s just a sheet of paper. Even if we go through all the steps to get one, there’s nothing actually stopping her from violating it.”

“If she violates it, he calls the police, and they handle it.”

“HMM. YES. BECAUSE THEY WERE SO HELPFUL THAT NIGHT AT C’S.”

He and Hook shared a look. “Exactly. And—stuff like this can escalate. Sorry, but she’s not Tale-verse. She’s Fell. Hell, she’s a former gang-leader. I’m having a real hard time imagining that she’ll obey something as flimsy as a court order. A human one at that.”

Undyne sighed, throwing up her hands. “So what do you think we should do!?”

Hook eyed her meaningfully, and Papyrus sighed again. “NO MURDER, PLEASE. THERE’S BEEN MORE THAN ENOUGH DUST SHED.” They both gaped at him, and Papyrus forced himself to smile brightly in response. Considering everything he’d just heard Blackberry say about this woman, he was having a more difficult time than usual tolerating their coddling. “WAS THAT NOT YOUR SUGGESTION? PERHAPS YOU PROPOSED KIDNAPPING INSTEAD?”

Hook started laughing and slung an arm over his shoulders. “Heh. We need to go out drinking sometime, Creampuff. Think we might have fun together. No babysitters allowed.” She said the latter while tilting her head at Undyne—and fending off another sharp elbow.

“MAYBE ONCE THIS IS ALL SETTLED.” He flipped through the folder again, as if it would reveal more to him. He sighed. “WELL. MURDER AND KIDNAPPING AREN’T ON THE TABLE—”

“Yet,” Hook muttered.

“—SO WE TAKE THE LEGAL ROUTE. SHE’S FELL, YES, BUT SHE HAS THE CHANCE AT A NEW START HERE ON THE SURFACE. SHE CAN SHED HER PAST SELF AND PURSUE A NEW LIFE! PERHAPS SHE HAS NO RESPECT FOR THE HUMAN COURTS, BUT SURELY SHE’S SELF-SERVING ENOUGH TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THAT.”

Slowly, Hook pulled away, nodding to herself. “That’s…. Actually, you may be on to something. Our Muffet—” Her mouth pulled into a sneer. “—wasn’t exactly a peach, but she’s been keeping her head down since we got here. Seems like she’s actually trying to start over.”

“GREAT! MAYBE THIS MUFFET JUST NEEDS TO BE REMINDED THAT SHE HAS SOMETHING TO LOSE, DOING THIS—AND NOTHING TO GAIN, SO FAR AS I CAN SEE. BEING ON THE RECEIVING END OF A RESTRAINING ORDER MIGHT BE A WAKE-UP CALL.” His sockets creased slyly. “IN FACT…MAYBE SOMEONE SHOULD GO TALK TO HER. CONVINCE HER OF THE ERROR OF HER WAYS.”

Undyne glared at him. “Papyrus, I swear, if you try to talk to this woman on your own—”

He sighed. “NOT ME!” He tugged at his gloves, remembering what Blackberry had said. “I’M GIVEN TO UNDERSTAND SHE HAS A TYPE, AND IT WOULD NOT BE IN MY BEST INTEREST TO CALL ATTENTION TO MYSELF.” Undyne visibly relaxed, while Hook grimaced. “I WAS HOPING ONE OF YOU MIGHT PAY HER A VISIT, ACTUALLY.”

Hook’s expression turned sharkish. “Oh, I can pay her a visit, alright.”

Undyne eyed her. “We’ll go together,” she said firmly. Under her breath, she added, “We don’t need you getting sent back Underground either.”

“EXCELLENT! SO, WE HAVE A PLAN NOW? I WILL GET MORE INFORMATION FROM TWISTED-ME—AND IMPRESS UPON HIM THE IMPORTANCE OF DOCUMENTING ANY FURTHER HARASSMENT—SO WE CAN PURSUE A RESTRAINING ORDER IF THIS CONTINUES, WHILE YOU BOTH SEE IF YOU CAN DISSUADE MISS TARANTELLA.”

They nodded in agreement. Grinning, he said, “FABULOUS!” and left before he could get swirled up in another embassy matter. That had, honestly, gone better than he expected. He whistled on his way back to the car, already deciding how best to approach Twist.

He stopped to get food first. In his experience, it was difficult to keep a monster in heat fed—due either to the complicated logistics of both monitoring them and acquiring food simultaneously, or simply because they were too distracted—so Twist would probably be grateful for the help.

Hopefully.

He didn’t bother knocking. Instead, he called. When Twist answered, Papyrus blinked at the disorienting view—a harsh shadow overlaid his vision, and he realized Twist had covered his sockets. “Sumthin’ wrong, darlin’? ‘Berry okay?”

“OH, YES. EVERYTHING IS FINE! HIS HEAT ENDED THIS MORNING, IN FACT.”

Twist was quiet for a moment. “Right. Glad ta hear tha’, sweetheart. But, uh…why’re ya on my porch? ‘M a little busy at the moment.”

Papyrus cleared his throat. “AH. WELL. SORRY ABOUT THAT.” He looked down at the pink box in his hand. “I THOUGHT YOU AND YOUR CHARGES MIGHT APPRECIATE SOME BREAKFAST.”

He heard something shift in the background, and Twist moved his arm, allowing Papyrus to see the clutter of his attic bedroom. “Well, tha’s nice ‘a ya,” he said carefully, though Papyrus could hear the confusion in his voice. “Didn’ need ta do that, though.”

“NONSENSE! IT’S A PLEASURE. YOU’LL COME DOWN AND GET THEM NOW? I’D RATHER NOT LEAVE THEM ON THE PORCH.”

A scarred hand swam into view, and he recognized the motion as Twist pinched the bridge of his nasal aperture. “Uh. Sure. Gimme a sec.”

“TAKE YOUR TIME.”

He hung up with a click, and Papyrus waited. A few minutes later, Twist opened the door, clad in only a pair of loose-fitting pajama bottoms. Immediately, Papyrus took note of the fresh bruises and bite marks that littered his bones. He was unselfconscious, though, and made no move to hide the marks.

AH. Noting their placement—his collarbone, his lowermost ribs, his neck—a few additional pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

He held up the box, displaying it but not holding it out. “MAY I COME IN?”

Twist blinked, then looked over his shoulder. “Uh. Darlin’? You, uh, ya know tha’s not a great idea right now, right?”

“I’LL ONLY BE A MOMENT.” Twist was still staring at him, confused. Papyrus cleared his throat and decided to be truthful. “THE ONLY REASON BLACKBERRY ISN’T BEATING DOWN THE DOOR IS BECAUSE I VOLUNTEERED TO CHECK ON YOU.”

Twist’s sockets widened, then he swore—more colorfully than usual. Despite himself, Papyrus was a little impressed and mentally tucked the words away for later consideration. “Alright, alright. Get in.” He swore again, under his breath. Then he winced. “Sorry, sweetheart. Know yer not fond ‘a my language sometimes.”

He shrugged, stepping past Twist. “IT’S ALRIGHT, TWISTED-ME. I UNDERSTAND YOU’RE EXPRESSING YOURSELF. I SIMPLY FEEL YOU COULD DO SO MORE CONSTRUCTIVELY.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, lemme give Cash an’ Slim a head’s up, okay?”

“OF COURSE.”

Twist nodded before scurrying up the ladder to warn Cash and Slim they had a visitor. Papyrus set the box of pastries down on the kitchen counter and sat on one of the stools to wait. Twist reappeared once he was settled, running a hand over his skull. “So?” he asked. “Whaddaya need fer me ta convince ya ta tell my little bro I’m fine?”

Papyrus waved him off. “NOTHING. I CAN SEE FOR MYSELF YOU’RE MORE THAN FINE.” He gestured to the marks on his bones. “HE HAS TROUBLE UNDERSTANDING VANILLA SEX. I CAN’T IMAGINE TRYING TO EXPLAIN THE INTRICACIES OF SADO-MASOCHISM TO HIM. NOR, FRANKLY, DO I THINK HE’S ENTITLED TO AN EXPLANATION OF HIS BROTHER’S PROCLIVITIES.” Twist stared at him, sockets wide, and Papyrus said—crisply—“NOR IS MINE. UNDERSTOOD?”

Slowly, Twist nodded. “Sure, sweetheart. I think I getcha.” He cleared his throat. “An’ if you an’ Red need a cover story sumtime….”

Papyrus smiled sweetly. “I’M ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN YOU WILL BE HAPPY TO PROVIDE.”

Twist nodded. “Glad we un’erstand each other, darlin’. That all?”

“NOT QUITE, I’M AFRAID.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I need to talk to you about Ella.”

“Ah, hell.” He turned away and started to pace, then stopped abruptly, pointing at Papyrus. “You—you are stayin’ outta this. Bad ‘nough, havin’ the Fell skeletons breathin’ down my neck. This don’ have anything ta do with you, un’erstand? Stay outta it.”

“Twisted-Me— Twist. Sit down, please.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Ain’t draggin’ ya inta this, sweetheart. Leave it. Let me an’—an’ the other You’s figure it out, yeah?” He forced a smile, apparently unaware that Papyrus could see the strain around his sockets.

Papyrus wanted to hug him, but the clenched fists at his side—and the warning zzt…zzt of his ankle monitor—made it clear that would be a mistake. So he lifted his chin, saying, “I’m not going to sit back and watch while one of my friends is threatened. Now, you can either sit down and help us to help you. Or you can cripple our efforts to keep you here, on the Surface, and to protect you from her. We’ll do our best regardless, of course, but I don’t know how effective our plan will be if you don’t cooperate.”

Twist swallowed. His breathing was sharp, and his fist squeezed tighter before he forced it to relax. Mana guttered in his scarred socket, beginning to seep between the cracks. “You have no idea what yer gettin’ in the middle of. Let it go, Creampuff. I don’ wan’ ya getting’ hurt.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Papyrus felt his soul grow hot, annoyed by the implication. That he couldn’t help. That he was too weak, too naïve—too innocent—to know anything. “I don’t want you to get hurt either,” he said, stiffly. “I know very well what she’s capable of.” Twist cocked his head, and Papyrus cleared his throat. “Your brother…may have mentioned a few things.”

Magic flared at the tips of his fingers, quickly snuffed out as his ankle monitor beeped loudly. “I’m gonna kill him,” he growled, mana flowing freely from his socket now. Papyrus stood, his soul beating faster as Twist started to pace. “The fuck does he think he’s doin’, sharin’ our business with anyone ‘at asks? Then he has the gall ta send ya here ta check on me?! Like I’m a fuckin’ child? I don’ need you—or him—checkin’ in on me, an’ I don’ need your help dealin’ with the fuckin’ Spider.” He stopped, glaring at Papyrus as he said, “Get out, ‘fore I throw ya out.”

Papyrus held his hands up, ignoring the way his soul wrenched in his chest. “Twist, please—”

“I mean it. Get. Out. Don’t make me regret invitin’ ya in—anymore’n I already do.”

Papyrus’ shoulders drooped. He wasn’t going to give up, of course. He’d need to try another approach, but a strategic retreat seemed—

“sit down. both of you.”

They froze, and Papyrus’ gaze jerked up, locking onto the two figures that stood at the base of the ladder. Slim hovered behind Cash, his body hidden by an oversized jacket, his features shadowed by the hood. He pulled in on himself, clearly embarrassed to be seen at all. But Cash….

Cash stood at his full height. He was freshly dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, his clothing still clean. Nothing could hide the gleam of mana at his joints, though, and the material of his shirt was thin enough that Papyrus could see his soul glowing through it. He swallowed and looked away. Unless invited, it was the peak of poor manners to look at a monster in heat for more than a moment or two, and certainly, neither Cash nor Slim had invited his gaze.

Still, he couldn’t help but notice the bite marks on Cash’s clavicle, his throat.

“Darlin’,” Twist rasped, clearly making an effort to keep his voice level. “Go back upstairs. I’m handlin’ this—”

“breaking your promise already, love?” The sardonic lilt of his words turned the pet name into a scornful admonition. “sit down and let the man talk, or go upstairs and work it off. i don’t care which, but i want to hear what he has to say.”

Twist exhaled slowly. He looked up at the ceiling, apparently considering if his LV was too active to remain. After a few beats, he sat. “I ain’t agreein’ ta nuthin’. Jus’ list’nin’.”

Cash snorted, coming to stand behind him. “you think i’d agree to anything without hearing the terms?” He looked to Papyrus. “start talking.”

Papyrus cleared his throat, eyelights still averted. He explained what Undyne and Hook had told him—about Scales’ verdict, about the restraining order. He didn’t mention that they planned to try talking to her first, knowing it would wind Twist up again. As it was, Cash had to silence him twice while Papyrus spoke, reminding him of a promise Papyrus wasn’t privy to.

When he was done, Cash asked, “so, what do you need from us?”

Papyrus glanced up—briefly—at the use of the word ‘us’. Then he saw the way Cash’s mana nodes lit his cervical vertebrae, and he looked away again, feeling himself flush in embarrassment.

“IF SHE’S DONE ANYTHING ELSE, THEN HE NEEDS TO TURN THE EVIDENCE OF IT OVER TO HOOK OR UNDYNE. DOCUMENTING IT WILL HELP US GET THE RESTRAINING ORDER APPROVED.”

Twist huffed. “Great. She hasn’ done shit, so you c’n—”

“you’re lying,” Slim said. He spoke softly, nearly inaudibly, but it silenced Twist nonetheless. Slim shrank back when Papyrus glanced up, surprised by his voice. Cash noticed the direction of Papyrus’ gaze and shifted to shield Slim from view, growling softly. Again, Papyrus winced and looked away, apologizing. Not before realizing it was Twist’s jacket he wore, though. And his collar was missing.

Papyrus wished he hadn’t looked. He felt sure he’d seen something he wasn’t meant to, something private.

Twist wasn’t paying attention to any of them, though. His gaze was off in the middle distance, while he tapped a coin against the formica countertop. Mana still dripped from his socket. He didn’t deny the accusation, though. Just tap tap tapped the coin against the counter.

Dressed as he was, more than the marks Cash and Slim had left on his body were visible—Papyrus could see the healed breaks in his bones, the calcified scars. It looked as if his body had been shattered and pieced back together again.

For the first time, he realized just how literally Blackberry had been speaking when he said she broke him.

He cleared his throat softly. “TWISTED-ME…I’M SORRY—”

Twist caught his eyelight, seeming to come back to himself. “Are ya?” he asked, leaning forward. His features were set and stony, his mouth hard. “What for, sweetheart?” His tone turned the innocuous words into a challenge.

Papyrus took a deep breath. “I KNOW YOU’D RATHER HANDLE THIS YOURSELF. I’M SURE, UNDERGROUND, YOU GOT USED TO THAT—LOOKING AFTER YOURSELF AND YOUR BROTHER.” Twist’s jaw popped. “I’M SURE IT’S…GALLING, NOW, TO HAVE OTHER PEOPLE INVOLVED IN YOUR BUSINESS. BUT I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND, IT’S BECAUSE WE CARE ABOUT YOU. I HOPE YOU’LL ALLOW US TO HELP YOU, BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU SENT BACK UNDERGROUND—OR OTHERWISE HARMED—BECAUSE OF HER.”

Twist looked away as he spoke, sockets slipping shut. Papyrus took care not to look directly at him or Slim, but he saw Cash’s hand tighten on Twist’s shoulder, and Slim drifted closer, hovering like a shadow. Twist tapped the coin against the counter twice more, then he laid it flat. “She texted me,” he said, voice soft, “Last week. I’ll screenshot the messages. Send ‘em to ya.” His eyelight slid back to Papyrus, and he leaned back on the stool, arm flat on the counter. “That all ya need?”

Papyrus beamed. “YES, THANK YOU! I’LL FORWARD THEM TO HOOK AND UNDYNE. AND IF SHE TRIES TO CONTACT YOU FURTHER, TELL US IMMEDIATELY! ANY EVIDENCE YOU HAVE THAT SHE’S DELIBERATELY HARASSING YOU IS VERY IMPORTANT. WE’LL NEED TO DOCUMENT IT TO BUILD OUR CASE. YOU UNDERSTAND?”

He shut his sockets, leaning back against Cash. “Sure, darlin’. Mind seein’ yerself out? Think I’m done fer now.”

“OF COURSE. I’LL TELL YOUR BROTHER—”

His sockets shot open. “You c’n tell ‘im ta keep ‘is fuckin’ mouth shut, sweetheart. An’ you…” He inhaled slowly. “You c’n ferget whatever he toldja. Got it?”

His soul ached. He wanted to argue. He wanted to insist that Twist had nothing to be ashamed of, that none of this was his fault, that she bore full responsibility for her actions. But the fury in Twist’s eyelight silenced him, and he knew, whatever he said, Twist wasn’t in a place to hear it right now. “OF COURSE, TWISTED-ME. BUT IF YOU EVER NEED TO TALK—”

Twist laughed, low and harsh. “No offense, darlin’, but if I ever need ta talk, it ain’t gonna be with you.”

The words stung, but before they could cut too deep, Slim said, “thanks for looking out, pap. you’re a good friend. we’ll take it from here, okay?”

Twist winced at the words, dropping his gaze.

“I—” He swallowed. “OF COURSE.” He stood before he could jam his foot any deeper into his mouth. “ENJOY THE PASTRIES.” With that, he made his way toward the door.

As his hand touched the knob, Twist spoke, “He’s right, ya know. Ya are—a good friend. Didn’ wan’ any ‘a this ta touch ya, darlin’. Didn’ mean ta bring trouble ta yer door. Sorry I—” He exhaled sharply. "Sorry fer sayin’ that. Ya didn’ d’serve it. Know ya were jus’ tryna help. ‘Sides—ain’t you I’m mad at anyhow.”

Papyrus shut his sockets. “IT’S OKAY, TWISTED-ME. YOUR SECRETS ARE YOUR OWN, AND YOU SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO DECIDE WHO YOU SHARE THEM WITH.” He glanced back at them, noting how Cash and Slim stood close behind him before averting his gaze once more. “I HOPE YOU HAVE SOMEONE—OR SOMEONES—YOU’RE COMFORTABLE CONFIDING IN. NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO BEAR THIS ALONE.”

With that, he stepped outside. He should go home. He needed to talk to Blackberry. Reassure him that his brother was fine, tell him about the plan to deal with Ella, tell him that the only reason Twist had agreed to work with them was because of Cash and Slim, who he’d so grievously misjudged.

He couldn’t find it in himself, though. His soul ached, and he was tired of arguing with his friends.

So he called Red.

“heya, pap. wha’s up?” His head was tilted slightly—it looked like he’d jammed the phone between his shoulder and acoustic meatus so he didn’t have to pause his game.

Papyrus shut his sockets, smiling fondly. “HELLO, CHERRY! I’VE…WELL, I’VE HAD A BIT OF A ROUGH MORNING—”

The game froze. “right. gimme names an’ addresses. i’ll fix it for ya.”

He laughed. “NOT NECESSARY! IT’S BEEN HANDLED. I WAS WONDERING IF YOU’D LIKE TO MEET ME FOR—” He eyed his watch. “—LUNCH, THOUGH.”

“lunch?”

“IF YOU’RE AVAILABLE! IT WOULD BE NICE TO GET AWAY FOR A BIT.”

The game shut off. “sure. got somewhere in mind?”

“HOW ABOUT GRILLBY’S? JUST DON’T TELL SANS. I HAVE A REPUTATION TO PROTECT, AFTER ALL.”

Red laughed, and Papyrus grinned, his soul humming. “secret’s safe with me, creampuff. see ya there.”

Chapter Text

As he had for the past several days, Edge waited for Rus to wake before moving. He stared at the ceiling as the first rays of light came in around the shuttered windows, dreading the day ahead. He’d kept count. This was the seventh day. The swelling at Rus’ mana nodes had faded, and his bones weren’t burning quite so hot. If not today, then tomorrow, Rus would no longer be in heat.

And then they’d need to have a talk.

His soul churned, and he jolted when Rus rolled over and wrapped his arms around his waist. “morning,” he murmured sleepily.

The anxiety devolved into dread. His soul ached. “Good morning. Can I go make coffee?”

Rus looked up at him, smiling. “you can do whatever you want, precious.” He pulled the collar of his shirt down to expose his ribcage. “soul’s demanifested; my heat’s over.” He snuggled closer. “that wasn’t so bad, right?”

Edge stared at the ceiling. “Right.” He swallowed. “But. It wasn’t good, was it?” Rus stilled. Edge shut his sockets, wishing he could take the words back.

Rus sat up and their eyelights met. “all things considered,” he said slowly, “i think it went okay.” He cupped Edge’s cheekbone. “i didn’t do a good job of preparing you—"

“Rus, be honest—it’s not your fault that this went so badly.”

“bad? it wasn’t—this didn’t go badly.” Edge raised a brow-bone and Rus sighed. “okay. there are things we could have done differently, but that’s not your fault either. i think we can learn from this, and do better next time!” He smiled, and his voice was warm and sweet. “you’re better prepared now. we’ll have a real heat plan in place by the time it’s your turn—” Edge’s soul lurched at the mention. “—and everything will go much smoother. okay?”

There was more Edge wanted—needed—to say, but the words were like dust in his mouth. So he nodded and agreed. “Right. Of course.” He took a deep breath. “I’d like to go on a run, if you don’t mind.” Rus opened his mouth, shut it, and looked away, his fingers curling closed. “What is it?”

“i don’t mind. it’s probably been hard for you, being cooped up for a week.” He smiled ruefully. “but…will you promise me something?” Edge tilted his head. “don’t overdo it, okay? i don’t want to keep you from something you enjoy, but…the overexercising is part of it, right?”

A shamed flush colored his cheekbones as Edge looked away. “I won’t overdo it,” he said, voice thick.

Rus caught and held his hand. “promise?”

“I promise.”

Tension drained from Rus’ shoulders, and he flopped back into the bed. “great! you have fun with that, and i will enjoy having the bed to myself again!”

Edge couldn’t quite stop himself from smiling, though he repressed it quickly. “I suppose asking you to change the sheets and take a shower is out of the question.”

Rus snuggled deeper into the nest of blankets. “the way i see it, you’re going to need a shower after your run, and it would be a waste of water for the two of us to shower separately.”

“And, of course, you wouldn’t want to dirty the clean sheets by climbing back into bed before you’ve showered,” Edge observed dryly.

“exactly! you get it. so we’ll do all that after you get back.”

Edge snorted, then leaned down to kiss him. He hesitated, then said, “I love you.” No matter how his soul ached, he was certain of that at least.

Rus’ smile stretched wide. “you too, precious. sure you don’t want to hang here with me?”

“Only if you’re prepared to shower and change the sheets.”

He burrowed into the blankets. “have fun on your run. tell twist i said ‘hi’.”

It hadn’t occurred to him to call Twist, but now that he thought about it, the distraction would be welcome. “I will.”

Twist sounded somewhat surprised when he called, but he was more than willing to meet him for a run. He hesitated, before saying, “’M a little sore, though. Might hafta go slower’n usual, if ya don’ mind.”

“Sore?”

“Yer not? Maybe ‘cause there’s two of ‘em….”

“Two of what?” Twist had been studiously staring at a blank patch of wall throughout the call, so Edge had no idea what he might be referring to.

“Ah, ya haven’t talked ta yer bro yet, then. Saw Slim ‘n Cash through their heat.”

He swore under his breath, already getting his shoes on. “We’ll go slow.” He’d promised Rus anyway. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Twist was waiting outside the house when Edge arrived. “Heya, darlin’! Long time, no see.” They clasped wrists in a quick greeting, and then they were running.

Despite Twist’s request, they ran fast enough for the first two miles that neither could comfortably speak, too out of breath for words. Twist grinned at him, and Edge realized that he was grinning too, the heaviness in his soul eased by the pounding of their feet against pavement, the rush of air over his acoustic meati, the quiet chill of the early morning. He’d missed this.

They both paused when they reached the border of Monstertown, hands on their knees as they recovered their breath. “Thought…you were…sore,” Edge said, panting.

Twist inhaled deeply, held it for a beat, and let the air out in a rush. “Was. Am. Felt good, though. Didn’ wanna stop.” They exchanged a look. “Needed tha’, sweetheart. Thanks fer callin’,” he said after their breathing had settled.

Edge nodded his understanding. “I did too.”

For a moment, they were quiet, then Twist eyed him and said, “I, uh. I got a question for ya, if ya wouldn’t mind answerin’.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Fair ‘nough.” He looked toward the human side of the city. “Lemme buy ya breakfast. We c’n walk an’ talk while we eat.”

Edge’s skull jerked at the mention of food. Had Rus told him? Or Hook? Maybe Red—he’d already mentioned he’d spoken to him. Twist’s expression was guileless, though, and he raised a brow-bone when Edge stared at him a beat too long. “Darlin’?”

Then Edge realized the offer of food was meant as a bribe, not an attempt to make sure he was fed. Twist was being polite, by Fell-verse standards; he knew better than to ask for information without offering something in return. And he was being downright generous about it, too, considering Edge hadn’t actually agreed to answer his questions.

With a flush, Edge looked away. “If you like. I reserve the right not to answer."

Twist chuckled. “Sure, darlin’. I gotcha. C’mon—know a place ‘at makes the best breakfast b’rritos.”

The ‘place’ turned out to be a street cart being manned by a diminutive man with an accent. Twist payed, while Edge tried not to let his skepticism show on his face. He must not have been successful, because Twist threw an arm over his shoulders and shook him a little. “Trust me, sweetheart. They’re the best.”

Edge just huffed, looking at the foil wrapped burrito. Before taking a bite, he dug out his phone and turned it to take a selfie. “Uh…darlin’?”

“I’m letting Rus know I’m having breakfast with you so he’s not—” worried, “—hurt later, when I don’t want to eat with him.”

Laughing, Twist drew him in, tilting his skull so he was in the picture too. The bastard was winking, presumably for Rus’ benefit. Edge sighed, texting the picture to his boyfriend. “’S sweet ‘a ya,” Twist observed.

“Fuck off.”

“No—really. Ain’t bustin’ yer chops, darlin’.” He cleared his throat, looking away as he said, “’S jus’ nice, ya know? Yer Fell, but…you c’n be soft for ‘im. Admire that about ya, sweetheart. Tha’s all I’m tryna say.”

Edge swallowed, ignoring how his soul sank at the words. For all that, he still wasn’t soft enough. “What’d you want to ask me?”

They started walking as they unwrapped their burritos. “Well….” Twist took a bite of food, apparently to give himself time to sort his thoughts. “When ya were Un’erground, ya collared yer bro, right?”

Edge raised a brow-bone. “That’s hardly a secret. In fact, I think you expressed your opinion of that rather publicly when we first met.”

Twist winced, rubbing his jaw sympathetically. “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t un’erstand, back then. Tryna un’erstand now, if yer willin’ ta talk ‘bout it.”

Edge considered him and the bribe being offered. Twist was touching on a sensitive topic—one they’d fought over in the past—but Edge still didn’t quite understand why he hadn’t simply asked. They’d been on the Surface long enough now that he shouldn’t feel the need to play these Fell-verse games with him. Unless there was more to this request than idle curiosity.

To give himself time to consider that, Edge took a bite—and froze. Twist smirked. “Good, right?”

Unwilling to admit he was right, Edge flipped him off and said around a mouthful of food, “Ask your fucking question, Twisted.”

“Heh. Tolja.” That earned him another glare. “Alright, alright.” He took a few more steps, then said, “You ever regret that? Collarin’ ‘im?”

Edge snorted. “No. Him and his mouth would have been dust if I hadn’t.”

“Right. But…he ain’t as weak as ‘is stats make ‘im look. ‘E’s got mana ta spare. An’ the KR….” He shuddered a little. “Packs a punch, darlin’. Not ta mention the teleportin’ trick.”

Edge shrugged. “Even so, it just takes one lucky hit. And you know how Fell monsters love their gambling.” He took another bite before adding, “I thought it best that he also had my public promise that any harm visited on him would be returned tenfold. To dissuade those that might otherwise wish to test their luck.” He gestured to their surroundings. “In the end—whatever the reason—he made it to the Surface. So, no, I don’t regret it.”

They ate in silence for a while, and Edge assumed they were done with the questions. Until Twist said, “So…why’s he still wearin’ it, then?” Edge stopped to look at him. “If the point was ta keep ‘im safe—ta get ‘im here—then why’s he still wearin’ it? He don’ need it up ‘ere, yeah?”

Edge didn’t reply at first. The question struck him—much like the punch Twist had thrown on their first meeting. “I…” He shrugged and started walking again. “I suppose it comforts him.”

“So it’s fer ‘im? Make ‘im feel safe?”

“You’d have to ask him that,” he said, dismissing the question and the subtle ripple it sent through his soul. Twist grew quiet, and Edge looked at him. “Twist, what’s this about?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Tolja—tryna un’erstand. When we were….” He inhaled slowly. “When we were Un’erground, my little bro…wore a collar fer a bit. Not mine.” He said it sharply, defensively. “Wasn’t meant ta keep ‘im safe, though. Tha’ was my job, an’ I never needed a collar ta do it.” The last came out in a scornful growl, and Edge raised a brow-bone at the implied insult.

Realizing what he’d said, Twist flinched. “Sorry. Jus’—in my experience, collars ‘re about ownin’ someone, not pr’tectin’ ‘em.” He looked down at the ground. “Talked ta Slim, though.” He fidgeted with the leftover foil, curling it into a ball before adding, “That…that ain’t how he sees it.”

“Why even ask me, if you’ve already asked Slim?” And why the sudden need to understand at all?

“’Cause, sweetheart—yer on the other side ‘a it.” Edge cocked a brow-bone, inviting him to elaborate.

Twist sighed and said, slowly, “Bein’ owned c’n feel like bein’ loved. ‘Least, you c’n trick yerself inta thinkin’ it is, if ya don’ know any better.” He swallowed, scratching at his scarred socket. “Know why some’ne might choose—or think they’re choosin’—ta wear one.” He looked to Edge. “But yer the one doin’ the collaring. Figured you could tell me why ya’d ask some’ne ta wear it, if it ain’t ‘bout showin’ everyone ‘at ya own ‘em.”

Edge looked away and resumed their walk. He’d finished the burrito and had thrown the foil away when they reached a trash can. He wished, for a moment, that he still had something to do with his hands.

Eventually, he said, “From the outside, that is how it appeared. Publicly, I spoke of him as one might…a pet. An obnoxious one, at that.” He lifted his chin and held Twist’s eyelight. He wasn’t ashamed of keeping himself and his brother alive. “The difference is, Red was a participant in our farce. He agreed to it, and played his role well. Had he decided he no longer wanted or needed my protection, he could have taken the collar off anytime he wanted.”

Twist studied him. “You’d ‘a let ‘im do that? Even if ya thought it was keepin’ ‘im safe?”

Edge considered, then shrugged. “It wasn’t my choice to make—it was his. Always. I won’t pretend I would have been pleased if he chose not to wear it, but no, I wouldn’t have forced the issue.”

Twist nodded, considering that for a few minutes. Then, carefully, he asked, “Ya ever…ever thought ‘a askin’ Rus ta wear one?”

Edge’s skull jerked at the suggestion. “Why would I do that?” he asked crisply. “It wouldn’t mean anything to him! And we aren’t Underground anymore, besides. Whatever meaning it would have carried is irrelevant now.”

Looking at the ground, Twist winced at every word. “Jus’…tryna un’erstand, sweetheart. Tolja.”

Edge glared. “You never did say why the sudden need to ‘understand’,” he snapped.

He didn’t know why the suggestion irritated him so much, didn’t know why his soul was suddenly hammering. He only knew that he had no intention of giving the thought any consideration. Rus was Tale, not Fell, and Edge had already dragged enough Fell-verse bullshit into his life. He didn’t need to hang his baggage around his boyfriend’s neck.

Twist glanced at him, but refused to meet his glare. “Slim,” he said slowly. “I…I, uh…didn’ know he wore ‘is Muffet’s collar.”

He swallowed, and Edge felt the anger drain away.

“Ah.”

Twist nodded and they walked in silence for a few steps. “’S impor’nt to ‘im. Even up here.” He inhaled slowly. “Knowin’ what it was, who it b’longed to….” He shook his skull. “He took it off fer me. Knew it w’s makin’ me uncomf’tble. Took it off, even though it still means a lot to ‘im.”  He toed the ground. “Thought…thought I owed it to ‘im, ta try ta see it fr’m ‘is side. An’…” He inhaled sharply. “An’ hers.”

Slowly, Edge nodded. He cleared his throat before saying, “While I can’t speak for Slim or Chantelle, my understanding is, she’s his oldest ally and closest friend. If he says the collar is about protection, I’d take him at his word.”

Twist grunted softly. “Ain’t his word I don’ trust.”

Edge swallowed; he could sympathize with that. He hesitated but decided that Twist had earned this. “She’s not—she’s not like ours.”

Twist’s skull jerked. “’Ours’?” he quoted.

“Your Ella. And—mine.” He shrugged, looking away. “I’m beginning to suspect we have a similar history.” His mouth was dry. He hoped Twist didn’t pry further, as that was all he was willing to admit.

But he was Fell, so all he said was, “Shit. ‘S yours—around?”

“No. She went south. Far from Monstertown.” And anyone that would know her. Edge wondered if she was seeking a fresh start, or fresh victims. He pushed the thought from his head. “If Chantelle owns any part of Slim, then it was freely given. I don’t think either you or I could say the same.”

“Nah. Anythin’ she had ‘a me, she took.”

Edge nodded in agreement. “And she didn’t need a collar for that.”

Twist flinched and looked away. “Right.” His voice was hoarse. “Think ya ans’ered my questions, darlin’.” He wiped his scarred socket, clearing away the mana beading on his cheekbone. They were back at the edge of Monstertown, now, looking out over the quiet streets. “Race ya back?”

Instead of answering, Edge bolted for the trail, taking an early lead. Twist swore before taking off after him.

-

When he got back to the condo, Rus surprised him with coffee and—“You actually changed the sheets?” He eyed the laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs, brow-bone lifted.

Rus grinned, inordinately pleased with himself. “i did. haven’t showered yet, though.” He waggled his brow-bones suggestively.

Edge looked at him, at the coffee—bitter and dark, with just a touch of cream, exactly the way he preferred—and said, “We…we need to talk.”

He wanted nothing more than to join Rus in the shower, to ignore the weight on his soul, but he knew he couldn’t put this off any longer. He’d waited for Rus’ heat to end, he’d had his run, had allowed himself to be be distracted for a while. It was time.

No more secrets, as he’d promised.

Rus looked at him with wide sockets. “is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No.” Yes. “We just…we need to talk. Why don’t we sit?”

He gestured to their tiny kitchen table, and Rus sat slowly, still looking at him with wide, panicked sockets. Edge settled across from him, cupping the coffee mug between his hands. He took a deep breath. “Tell me more about soul-bonds.”

“oh!” Rus’ shoulders dropped as the tension bled from his bones. The corners of his sockets crinkled as he smiled, and a small laugh escaped him. “you scared me for a minute there. i thought you were breaking up with me or something.”

Edge swallowed, his own soul seizing at the words. “I don’t want to break up,” he said. “But you mentioned, while you were in heat, that you wanted to soul-bond, eventually. Can you talk me through that?”

“uh…sure, i guess. are you asking about the ceremony, or…?”

“We can start there. What does that entail?”

“i mean…it kind of depends on the couple? some monsters like to incorporate human wedding traditions into the ceremony. some monster types have their own traditions. the main thing is the binding.”

“Is that done publicly?” He couldn’t imagine bearing his soul to a roomful of people.

“no, it’s—the couple stands under a canopy. any vows or traditions they want are done with the curtains up, but they pull them closed to do the binding.”

“And…the binding?”

“well. i mean. i’ve never seen it. i’m not exactly sure what happens.” He shrugged, apparently unbothered by this. “i figure the soul knows what it wants. must be easy enough, if it can happen accidentally, right?”

Edge’s grip on his coffee mug tightened, but he tried to keep his expression neutral. “I see.”

Rus grinned at him. “we can find out how it works, precious. i know tori and asgore used to be an item. i’m sure we could ask one of them.”

The back of his neck prickled. He tapped his claws against the side of his mug. “It’s rumored, in my ‘verse, that that’s what drove the queen mad—breaking the soul-bond.”

Rus raised a brow-bone. “…well, considering none of the other rulers had that problem after breaking their bonds, i think maybe that was a mental health issue. not a soul-bond issue.”

Edge paused, considering that. “That…seems like a fair assumption.” Certainly more than what he now realized sounded like a cruel bedtime story.

Rus studied him. “are you okay? you seem kind of upset. we don’t have to talk about this right now, you know.” He chuckled. “not like we’re setting up the canopy or anything.”

Edge’s soul gave a hard thump. “Right. I just…I’d like to know what your expectations are.”

“my expectations?” He chuckled, as if the idea itself was funny.

Edge didn’t laugh. “Yes, Rus. I want to know how you envision our future together.”

Rus blinked and leaned forward. “oh.” His expression cleared, as if it simply hadn’t occurred to him that Edge wouldn’t already know. He took a sip of his coffee, then said, “well…it’s a lot like our life now. maybe a place we own, instead of something we rent from the embassy. i like the city, though, like all the people, all the busy-ness.” He grinned a little at his made-up word.

“i could be persuaded to move into a suburb, if you really wanted. maybe we get a dog or—” His grin widened. “—a cat. we’ve talked about kids, so i know we’re on the same page there.” Edge nodded. “maybe we get married at the courthouse or something? seems like it’s got some benefits on the human side of things.”

“And we’re…bonded?”

“yeah! i’m not real pressed about the ceremony or the after party. you can go as nuts or stay as low-key as our budget and your stress-levels can afford.”

Edge’s throat felt tight. “But the bond itself. That’s important to you?”

“well…yeah. i mean, i think it would be good for us, don’t you?”

He swallowed, loosening his grip so he didn’t shatter the coffee mug. “This is new for me,” he reminded him. “The only thing I’ve ever been told about this is that it’s—” Shameful. “—a weakness. That it could put me and any potential bond-mate in danger.”

Rus’ smile was soft as he reached out to ease Edge’s hand away from the mug. “you were told the same thing about love,” he said, taking care to emphasize the lowercase pronunciation. “you know better now.”

Edge found himself nodding. Still, he said, “Tell me about—about the bond. What does it do, really?” He couldn’t trust the rumors that swirled around his ‘verse.

“it brings a couple—or triad, quad, whatever—closer. you feel what they feel.” He squeezed Edge’s hand. “even if you don’t understand why they’re feeling that way, you can sense it through the bond. puts you in a better place to help them.”

He caught Edge’s eyelight, and Edge realized exactly why Rus thought it would be ‘good for them’. He pulled away, shame coiled tight across his sternum.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe that’s what drove our queen mad. Sensing the monster she’d loved become the man he turned into….”

Rus’ sockets widened briefly. “uh, that’s a theory, i guess….” He took another sip of coffee, leaning back in his chair. “well, here i’m spilling my guts, but you haven’t told me what your expectations are, precious.” His smile was easy, teasing. “i’ll brace myself—i know you have high standards.”

He winked, looking cocky and playful and—stars, Edge couldn’t feel further from him in that moment.

“I don’t think I can soul-bond with you.”

The words spilled out of him, then lay between them in the sudden silence. Like something rancid he’d thrown on their kitchen table.

Rus cocked his head, brow-bones furrowed. Then his expression cleared. “oh—is this because of your soul? you’re worried about the layer around the outside? we were going to meet up with a doctor to ask about that anyway—we can see if bonding is going to be an issue then.”

Edge sat back in his chair, the nervous tension that had been coiled in his bones fading to numb resignation. “No. Well, yes, but—” He took a deep breath. “Rus, I love you. I love you more than I thought…more than I thought I was capable of. But…I don’t think I can do that. Not even for you.”

Rus curled his hands around his coffee. “oh.” He stared into his mug, and Edge saw him open his mouth as if to speak, before falling silent once again.

His soul stung. “I’m sorry.”

At that, Rus shook his head and tried to smile. “no. it’s—well. that’s okay. i mean, i’m not exactly ready for that either. it’s…it’s fine.”

His easy smile didn’t look so easy anymore. “Is it?” Edge asked.

“yeah. i mean—stars, we haven’t even lived together for that long. we’re not—even if you wanted to, we wouldn’t be ready for that right now. and who knows? maybe you’ll change your mind.”

Though Edge dearly wanted to leave the conversation there, he had to know—“What if I don’t? Could you be happy staying with me if I never did?”

“of course,” he said, too quickly. “i love you. i don’t need…i don’t need anything else. just that house in the ‘burbs. two-point-five pets. you know—the dream.”

“Rus.” He caught and held his eyelights. “Please. Be serious and really think about this. Is what we have now enough, or would you need to take that additional step to be happy?”

“i….” His grin grew fragile. “...i want it to be enough—” Edge saw him swallow. “i mean, i always imagined…” His breath hitched. “but i can’t imagine not being with you either.”

Edge’s gaze dropped. He found it all too easy to imagine a life without Rus. He’d grown used to preparing himself for heartbreak. It wasn’t the life he wanted for himself, but—“It wouldn’t be right to keep you, if I can’t make you happy,” he said softly.

“you do make me happy!”

“For now.”

Rus pushed away from the table and stood. “no. we’re not doing this. we’re not—we’re not breaking up because of a hypothetical, years down the line! this is—why are we even talking about this?!” He laughed a little, trying to diminish the issue. “we’re fine! we’re happy now, and that’s what matters, right?”

Edge took a long, deep breath. “Maybe. But if we’re incompatible long-term….” He caught Rus’ eyelight again. “I love you enough that I want you to be happy.” His chest hitched. “Even if it’s not with me.”

Only then did Rus begin to cry.

Chapter Text

“boss?”

Edge stood on his brother’s doorstep with a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. He felt strangely unmoored from reality, and his words seemed clumsy and distant when he asked, “May I stay here for a few days? Just until the embassy can find something more permanent.”

-

“be nice, boss.”

Papyrus huffed. “What, are you afraid I’m going to bite your new friends?”

“no! jus’.” Sans ran a hand down his face. “they’re nice.”

“You’ve said that—”

“no, i mean—they’re really, actually fer really real nice.” Papyrus raised a brow-bone. His skepticism must have shown on his face, because Sans sighed. “can ya jus’—try ta be nice back? please?”

Papyrus rolled his eyelights. “Maybe I should just stay here if you’re so concerned—”

“no!” Sans held up his hands, looking from Papyrus to the machine. “i wan’ ya ta meet ‘em.”

Papyrus eyed his brother, trying to figure out what his angle was. Sans never did anything without a secondary motive. Asking outright would net him nothing, but he might be able to figure it out if he played along. At least, for now. Besides, Sans wouldn’t do anything to intentionally endanger them—and Papyrus admitted he was curious about these other worlds his brother had stumbled into, and the strange copies that populated them.

“Fine. I will be ‘nice’. But—” He held up a finger. “I’m leaving if this is one of your pranks.”

“right, boss. made a whole extra universe jus’ ta fuck with ya.”

Papyrus snorted. “As if you wouldn’t, were you capable.”

“r’member, i’m red. an’ yer—”

“Edge,” he said on a sigh. A ridiculous name he knew his brother had chosen for the potential puns. “I’m going to regret this,” he muttered under his breath once the machine was finally ready.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when they reached the other universe, but it certainly wasn’t the blue-clad cannonball that launched itself at his brother. He didn’t think—he just reacted, shoving Sans behind him to catch the other monster by their upper arm. He knocked their feet out from under them and yanked their arm behind their back, summoning a sharpened bone construct.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, pressing the edge of the construct to the back of the other monster’s neck.

Behind him, Sans sighed deeply. “boss, meet blue.”

Under his hand, the smaller skeleton turned his head, trying to look at him. “Um. Hi?” Blue said, the uncertainty in his voice obvious.

Shit. He released his hold and banished the construct. Before he could figure out what to say, yet another skeleton asked, “that how they say ‘hello’ in your ‘verse, fuckfell?” One of his eyelights was dim, and the other flared with orange mana. A Check rolled through Papyrus, and the other skeleton’s sockets narrowed further as he read his stats.

The suspicion in his gaze set Papyrus at ease—this copy of himself, at least, wasn’t nearly as nice as Sans seemed to believe. Papyrus made a show of surveying his alternate—performing a Check of his own—then sneered. “And is that how they dress in yours? You look like a traffic cone.”

Sans sighed again, while his copy sputtered.

“See, Papy—I told you blue’s the superior color!” the smallest skeleton said. He’d recovered with admirable speed, at least.

“Hmph. It’s certainly easier on the eye.” Papyrus held out his hand. “I apologize for—earlier. You startled me. A pleasure to meet you, Blue.”

Blue grinned at him, his expression sunny and disconcertingly disarming. “Nice to meet you too, Edge! Red’s told us so much about you—”

“How unfortunate. I’ll be sure to correct whatever lies he’s told you.” Blue laughed, though Papyrus wasn’t entirely sure why.

As Blue led him away from the machine and up the stairs, he could feel his sins crawling on his back. Papyrus only spared the skeleton that shared his name a quick glance, before turning his back in dismissal.

-

Red yanked him inside, as if afraid his neighbors might see him. “the fuck happened? what’re ya doin’ here? ‘s rus okay?”

Edge shut his sockets as the breath escaped his ribcage all at once. “Nothing happened—”

“bullshit.”

-

“Can I help you with something?” Edge snapped. Rus was watching him—again, and Edge had finally lost his patience. Every time he visited, they played this game and he was sick of it.

Rus looked him over, and Edge’s sockets narrowed, sighing when he felt the Check once again. “I assure you, my LV hasn’t risen within the last few hours.”

A slow grin spread across Rus’ face. “don’t mind me, fuckfell—just checking you out.”

With that, he winked and strolled out the backdoor, presumably for a smoke. Edge watched him go, dumbstruck. Then he rolled his eyelights and brought the casserole he’d been warming into the living room.

“Thank you!” Blue said, showing him where he could set it down. “And—you took care of the cat?”

Edge nodded. “He’s outside. I gave him some tuna, so he shouldn’t bother us any more. Oh, and I think your brother’s coming down with something.”

“What? Is he okay?”

“He was flirting with me—poorly.” He crossed his arms, adding, “I think he confused me for someone he has a chance with. Do you have serving spoons somewhere?”

Blue caught his arm. “Edge, are you okay? Do you need me to talk to him? If he crossed a line….”

Edge couldn’t stop the short, sharp burst of laughter—though he stifled it quickly. “It’s fine, pipsqueak. If he thinks he can get under my skin that way, he has another thing coming. Now, serving spoons?”

Blue looked dubious. “Second drawer. And, Edge, just let me know if he’s bothering you….”

Edge snorted. “He wishes,” he said—at the exact moment Rus entered the room. Their gazes locked for an instant, then Edge brushed past, saying, “It takes a lot more than that to rattle me.”

He didn’t miss the way Rus’ smirk widened.

-

Edge laughed bitterly. “Fair enough. Would you accept, ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ instead?” He dropped the duffel on the ground and asked, “…Have you ever cleaned this place? At all? I know you have a vacuum. I made sure of that.”

“don’ distract me—what happened? ya owe me tha’ much, if yer gonna be sleepin’ on my floor.”

“Hmm, yes. I do hate to displace your cockroaches, after all. Maybe they can take the coach?”

“boss.”

-

“boss, the fuck’re ya doin’ with swapshit, huh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, not looking up from his paperwork. “Did you file your report for today? I can’t find it.”

“got it here,” he said, pretending to fish around in his pocket before pulling out his middle finger.

Edge sighed. “Would you just do your fucking paperwork for once? I’m sick and tired of filling it out for you—not least of which because imitating your sloppy handwriting makes my hand cramp.”

“make a deal with ya—i’ll do my own paperwork if ya tell me what yer doin’ with swapshit.”

Edge leaned forward, considering. “For the next month. Without me having to nag you first.”

“fer this week.”

“For the next three weeks.”

“two.”

Edge leaned his chin on his fist. “Two weeks…and you pick up your sock. Deal?”

Red eyed him, then held out his hand. “deal.”

Edge gripped his wrist and looked him in the eyelight. “I’m not doing anything. He started it—I’m just finishing it.”

“yeah? how’re ya doin’ that, exactly?”

Edge sniffed, looking back at the paperwork. “I’m calling his bluff. He’s flirting because he thinks he’s found a new way to upset me. I am proving him wrong.”

“uh-huh. an’ what if he actually wants ya, huh?”

Edge scoffed. “Why do you care? I thought you had your eyelight on the creampuff?”

Red sputtered. “i don’—tha’s not—” He huffed. “we ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me right now.”

Edge snorted, then took pity on his brother. “Either he’s trying to fuck with me—or he’s just trying to fuck me. If the former, then he’ll back off if I engage positively. If the latter, then I’m sure he’ll lose interest once I’ve satisfied his curiosity. There are no feelings involved. No one is going to get their heart broken, and you will continue to be welcome in their quaint, candy-floss universe. Satisfied?”

Red eyed him. “ya sure?”

“Quite. Now write your report, you lazy-ass. And go pick up your sock.”

-

Red looked him up and down, searching him.

“We…we’re on a break,” he finally said.

“what?”

“You heard me. Where do you keep your trash bags?”

Red followed him into the studio’s kitchenette. “but wha’s that mean? a break? a break fr’m what?”

His chest felt tight. “From each other. Trash bags?” He tried to open one of the cabinets, but Red held it closed.

“what the fuck d’ya mean? a break? why? what happened? wha’d ya do?”

-

Edge rolled out of the bed and stood to dress. Rus sat up. “uh. are you leaving? already?”

“I have places to be. We can’t all afford to laze about day and night.”

“guess you’re not the cuddling type, huh?” Edge shot him a look, but didn’t comment. “at least let me return the favor before you go.”

Edge paused, pants on but not done up. “What are you going on about?”

Rus laughed, the sound nervous and uncertain. “well. you didn’t…you didn’t come, did you?” He cleared his throat.

“Why does that matter?”

Rus’ sockets widened a bit, and his brow-bones lifted. “uh. just…polite, i guess.” He swept his gaze over Edge’s bared bones. “besides, i hate to leave a job unfinished.”

Edge snorted, buckling his belt. “I’m sure your supervisor disagrees.”

Rus watched him for a few moments, his brow-bones drawn together. He looked almost concerned. “this…wasn’t what i was expecting.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint—” Edge snapped, but Rus shook his head.

“i’m not disappointed. surprised, maybe. not disappointed.”

One hand on his hip, Edge studied him. “What, exactly, were you expecting, if you’re so surprised?”

“i dunno. just…figured you’d be the type to take what you wanted.” Edge snorted again, rolling his eyelights as he grabbed his shirt. “definitely thought you’d be a bit more…forceful.”

Edge sneered, allowing the disdain to show on his face. “I deal with enough violence as it is,” he snapped, “Why the hell would I invite it into my bed?”

Rus didn’t seem to have an answer for that. Faintly, as Edge slammed the door shut, he heard him say, “well. my bed. technically.”

There, he thought. That’s the end of that.

-

Edge huffed. “I didn’t do anything—”

“bullshit! ya musta done something; rus’s head over heels fer you! he wouldn’ kick ya out ‘less ya did sumthin’. so?”

Edge glared. “He didn’t kick me out!”

“then why the fuck’re ya here harassin’ me an’ my cockroaches?”

-

It was not the end of that. If anything, Rus seemed more persistent, though he changed tactics.

Edge trailed off in the middle of his argument about trap technique, while Blue and Papyrus quieted, looking at Rus. He was standing beside the table, obviously hovering. “Are you lost?” Edge asked, already anticipating a prank.

“no. just. thought you’d want some cinnamon bunnies.” He held up the plate like an offering.

Edge’s sockets narrowed. “Why, I wonder, would you think that?” He could feel Red in the other room, and silently vowed to strangle him later.

“just…heard you guys don’t always get luxury items like sugar and baking spices. thought it might be a treat. for you.”

Edge turned away from him. “If you really want to ‘treat’ me, then give me the raw ingredients next time. I’ll make cinnamon skulls that can satisfy even your sweet-tooth, Swapshit.”

Blue sighed and said, “Thank you, Papy. That was very nice.”

“YES, THANK YOU, LAZY-ME! THAT’S VERY CONSIDERATE.”

They looked at him expectantly, and Rus realized what they wanted. “oh! there’s more in the kitchen. if you guys want them.” He set the plate down next to Edge and teleported away.

Edge pushed the plate toward them. “Here. Now, where were we?”

But Papyrus cocked his head and said, “I DIDN’T KNOW YOU LIKED TO BAKE, EDGY-ME.”

-

“I told you, we’re on a break!”

“but ya still haven’t told me what that means!”

-

When they got home, Edge caught his brother by the collar, and twisted—just enough to put pressure on his vertebrae. “Do. Not,” he said sharply, tugging on the collar to emphasize each syllable. “Use. Swapshit. To force. Food. On. Me.” He glared, while Red winced. “Am I clear?”

“jus’ thought—”

“AM I CLEAR?”

Red winced again. “right. yeah. loud an’ clear.”

Edge released him and started up the stairs, only catching the pun when he was half-way up. He growled under his breath, but Red had already disappeared—probably off to wheedle some mustard out of Grillby.

He shook his head and went to his room. Surprisingly, his phone dinged as he flopped onto the bed.

‘what ingredients?’ the text read.

Edge stared at it for a moment, then decided ‘fuck it’ and started typing. It didn’t matter—he couldn’t trust anything Rus gave him, anyway. If he had anything nefarious—or merely mischievous—in mind then Edge could at least expose the intention.

Give him enough rope to hang himself with, as the saying went.

-

Edge took a shuddering breath and looked away from his brother. “It means,” he said slowly, “that you were right all along.”

-

“Hmmm.”

“something wrong, edgelord?”

Edge eyed him. Well, for one thing, he didn’t think Rus would actually get the ingredients. For another, everything was properly sealed, clearly untampered with. Safe. He could actually use these.

Which meant he now had a different problem. He owed Rus, and Edge refused to let him have anything to hang over his head. He needed to even the scales—now. And he certainly wasn’t going to fuck him in exchange for baking supplies. It set a bad precedent.

The answer presented itself a moment later. “Your brother’s going to be out for a while?”

“yeah. why?”

Rus was smirkingas if he knew the answer, but Edge said, “Because I need his kitchen, and I don’t want him underfoot.”

“his…kitchen?”

“I believe I promised you cinnamon skulls.” He expected to see disappointment on Rus’ face, but instead, he grinned.

“really?”

Edge rolled his eyelights and went to grab one of Blue’s aprons from the pantry. To his surprise, as he was laying out the ingredients, Rus joined him in the kitchen. “Here to supervise me?” he asked wryly. “Afraid I’ll poison you?”

Rus chuckled, angling his chair so he was facing Edge. “nah. just like watching you work, edgelord.”

Edge paused, not sure how to respond to that. His soul fluttered strangely, but he ignored it. With a sniff, he said, “If you become a distraction, I’m kicking you out.”

“of my own house?”

“Do you want cinnamon skulls or not?”

“got it—no distractions!”

Shockingly, he held true to that. He periodically asked questions about the process, but Edge eventually realized that he was mostly prompting Edge to talk about something he genuinely enjoyed. He wasn’t sure what to do with that information, and found himself grateful—but also a touch…disappointed?—when Blue returned. “Excellent timing,” he heard himself say. “These need to proof overnight, and I didn’t think your brother could be trusted with the baking instructions.”

“you’re not going to come back and have breakfast with us?” Rus asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. “in fact, why not stay the night? have a slumber party? you can sleep in my room.” He winked, and Edge again felt that strange fluttering from his soul.

Blue sighed and started to chastise his brother, but Edge cut him off. “That’s unnecessary. Blue is more than capable of following my directions—unlike you.”

“just tell me what you want, edgelord, and i’ll make it happen.”

Edge made a show of deliberately turning his back on him as he gave Blue the instructions.

-

“I shouldn’t have entertained his suit to begin with. We are…incompatible long-term. It would have been better if….”

His mouth went dry and he stopped, looking at the dirty tiles under his feet. That at least was a lie. No matter how his soul ached now, he could not say it would have been better if he hadn’t allowed himself to love Rus at all.

-

The next morning he got another text: ‘these r amazing!!! better than bunnies any day!’

Again, his soul gave that odd flutter. ‘I know,’ he sent back, smirking. And when Red asked what he was doing, he snapped, “None of your business.”

-

“how’re ya incompatible?” Red asked. “you two’re—yer perfect fer each other. everyone c’n see it. the fuck’re you talkin’ ‘bout?”

Edge shook his head. “Where are your trash bags?” he asked again, “The cockroaches may not mind the empty takeout containers, but I do.”

-

“What are you doing?” Edge asked, sitting up.

Rus sat back on his heels, but he didn’t take his hands from their place above Edge’s knees. “well,” he said, dragging out the word. “last time, you didn’t finish—” Edge raised a brow-bone, not sure why he was still so concerned about that. “—so i figured I’d make sure you got yours first this time around. that okay?”

His thumbs rubbed distracting circles into Edge’s femurs. The bone prickled and warmed where he touched it. Edge swallowed. “How, exactly, are you planning on doing that?”

Rus’ grin widened. “this my chance to talk dirty to you, edgelord?”

His soul was beating hard. He’d never…he’d never felt like this before. Sex wasn’t a new experience—sex with Rus wasn’t a new experience—but the little bubble of excitement stirring in his soul? The humming eagerness in his mana lines? The way his soul raced whenever Rus touched him?  That was new. And he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it. Sex was a bargaining chip, in his experience—not whatever this was.

He tried to push all that aside and say, “It’s your chance to explain yourself before I leave,” but his voice was breathy rather than commanding.

The corners of Rus’ sockets crinkled and his eyelights danced. Why did that make Edge’s soul flip? “alright. well, first i’m gonna slide my hands up the insides of your thighs.” He ran the backs of his fingers over Edge’s knee, the touch teasing. It was still enough to make his soul jump.

He swallowed. “And then?” He couldn’t quite decide if it was excitement or fear making the mana rush through his bones.

“might have a taste,” he mused, still rubbing circles into the sides of his joints. “kiss my way up, you know? maybe a nip or two along the way. here.” He lifted one hand, delicately touching the inside of Edge’s thigh, halfway to his pelvic bone. “maybe…here.”

He moved slowly, giving Edge every opportunity to pull away as he pressed his thumb against the innermost stretch of Edge’s femur—mere millimeters from his pubic symphysis.

Edge’s thighs twitched, pressing into Rus’ touch. Letting him spread him open. “i think you know what happens next.” Edge nodded numbly, his soul hammering. “that alright with you, edgelord?”

“I—”

Suddenly, it was too much. Rus was too close, and Edge couldn’t see the strings attached to whatever he was offering. His soul beat hard, wild with want, but if he didn’t know the price, Edge wasn’t going to accept the deal.

He rolled to the side, only his soldiers’ reflexes saving him from tumbling to the floor. “I need to go. This was a mistake.”

His hands shook as he fumbled for his clothes.

Rus sat on the bed, apparently dumbfounded. “wait. but you were—you were into it. weren’t you?”

Braced for Rus’ confusion to become anger—braced too for the sting of his KR—Edge was ready to snap at him, to remind him they didn’t even have an arrangement, that he was nothing to him, and Rus was demanding more than he’d ever earned.

Then Edge caught sight of his face, and his soul froze.

“i. i’m sorry.” Rus swallowed. “i really thought. i thought you were into it. you don’t—you don’t have to leave. i misread things. i didn’t mean to cross a line. we can—we can go downstairs. have some tea. maybe watch a movie. i’ll keep my hands to myself. i promise.”

Edge stilled, clothing bunched in his hands. Mere months ago—perhaps even weeks—he’d have scoffed and stormed out. Now, he knew Rus well enough to recognize the confusion—the fear—on his face was genuine.

He swallowed, realizing that Rus was either a master manipulator or he was exactly what he appeared to be.

“Tea,” he said eventually. “Tea would be nice.”

-

“under the sink,” Red said finally, moving his hand.

“There—was that so hard?” Edge asked, moving to retrieve a bag.

“ain’t me makin’ this hard’n it has ta be,” Red snapped.

-

The light was on when he got home. And Red was waiting for him. “yer home late. so late, it’s early—even fer you.”

Edge scoffed as he pulled off his boots. “I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”

“’s my business if yer too tired to watch yer own back, asshole.”

Edge just snorted, making his way up the stairs. “Try again,” he said, “We both know I won’t suffer the  lack of sleep.”

Behind him, Red muttered, “he better be a good fuckin’ lay.”

Edge pulled his bedroom door shut behind him. His brother would be even more furious if he knew they’d just been watching movies for the last few hours.

Lust was understandable. An annoyance, but an acceptable one. The bubbly, fluttery feeling in his soul, though? That was entirely unacceptable.

And Edge had no idea what to do about it.

-

Edge started to pick empty take out containers and bags of chisps up off the floor. “You’re disgusting,” he said after a few minutes. “How do you live like this?”

“an’ yer an emotionally constipated asshole.” Edge stopped to glare at him. “what? we ain’t trading fun facts ‘bout each other?” Edge shook his head and resumed cleaning. “yer really not gonna tell me what this’s about?”

“I already told you! And the details aren’t any of your business!”

-

Edge dragged himself home after the fight in Hotland, dust on his hands, his armor—in his mouth. Mana and marrow dripped down his spine and leg bones, pooling in his boot. Worst of all, his soul burned with fresh EXP, and the sickening euphoria of newly gained LOVE made his head spin. He itched for another monster to approach, to give him an excuse. But nobody came.

Thankfully.

He stepped into the house, glad that Red would be in one of the softer ‘verses tonight. He didn’t wholly trust himself right now.

“edgelord?”

He froze, looking up to find Rus at the top of the stairs. For an insane moment, he thought he was hallucinating. “What are you doing here?”

“your bro said you were sick. i figured i’d bring you some soup, but you weren’t in your bedroom.” Rus looked at him, taking in his hunched posture. “holy shit. you’re not sick; you’re hurt.”

“You need to leave. Now. You shouldn’t—stars above, did anyone see you come in?”

“i don’t think so. what happened to you? where are you hurt?”

“It doesn’t matter—you can’t be here. It’s not safe for you.”

“it’s not like i’m wandering around outside. i’m in your house.” Stars, it was like he didn’t even realize how dangerous the trip from the back of the house to the front could be for someone like him. “edge, c’mon—” He teleported, and Edge flinched back; he was suddenly in front of him, reaching for him.

“Don’t!” he snapped.

“i’m only trying to help. stars above, is that mana? are you—?”

A Check rolled through him, and they both froze. Rus was quiet for a beat, while Edge slowly lowered himself onto a chair. “your lv. it’s higher. when…?”

“Tonight,” he rasped. He bent forward to undo his boots, but a pained groan—quickly muffled—escaped him. When he’d caught his breath, he said, “Go home. I’ll be fine on my own.” He didn’t dare look at Rus, couldn’t stand to see the disgust in his eyelights. Even if he knew it was for the best, he was saddened to let that fluttery feeling in his soul die out. He’d entertained the pretty fantasy for long enough, though; now, he needed to be realistic.

But, instead of doing the sensible thing, Rus knelt in front of him. Surprising him, yet again. “What are you doing?”

“helping you with your boots.”

“Why?”

“’cause you were trying to take them off.” Edge had no reply to that, just watched as Rus pulled off his boots. Mana dripped from his heel, and Rus reeled back. He studied his foot but very quickly realized that wasn’t the source of the mana. “edge, where are you hurt?” he asked again.

Edge traced a line over his chest, and Rus stood, hurrying to pull off his armor. “You’re getting—there’s dust. On your hands,” Edge protested.

“i’m not real worried about that right now,” he said, pulling at the straps and buckles. Finally, his breastplate fell away, exposing the long cut across his ribs. Rus swore, pressing his hands to Edge’s ribcage. Green magic flowed from his fingers.

“Don’t bother. Past a certain LV, healing magic doesn’t work.”

 “fucking hell,” he said, looking up at Edge. “how do you—what do i do, then? a bandaid isn’t going to fix this.”

Edge shut his sockets, leaning against the back of the chair. “Time, Swapshit. Just takes time.”

He swore again. “first aid supplies, then. where are they?” Edge told him, and he disappeared. He returned a few beats later, with clean towels, hot water, and the first aid kit. To Edge’s surprise, he found himself drifting off while Rus cleaned and bandaged his wounds. He roused a few times, but the sight of orange fabric lulled him before he could panic.

“c’mon, precious,” he said, waking him once more, “got soup for you.”

Edge blinked, looking blankly at the bowl being held in front of him. “I didn’t make soup,” he said, not quite realizing how stupid the statement was in the moment.

“no, i brought it. you need more than time to heal; you’ll need mana too.” Edge stared at it, then at him. Rus scooped some onto a spoon, holding it out to him. “do you want me to make airplane noises? or are you more of a train guy?”

The teasing note—undercut by the real fear—in his voice shook Edge from his stupor. He scowled at the bowl and pushed Rus’ arm away. “I don’t need your soup,” he snapped. “I’ll get something myself. Go home, Swapshit.”

Rus didn’t move for a moment, then he ate the spoonful himself. “it’s safe, you know. i promise.” As if to reaffirm this, he took another bite. “good, too. and hot and—” He took a shuddering breath. “—would you please just eat the fucking soup? i’m—cripes alive, it looked like you were bleeding out and your flavor text just says, ‘he’s had worse’ and i can’t even unpack that right now. so. please. just. eat something. i’ll get whatever you want, if you don’t like soup, but. i can’t leave you like this, okay?”

Edge stared at him, at the tears welling in his sockets. “You’re….” He touched his cheekbone. “Why are you crying?”

Rus choked on a sob, then he took a steadying breath. “tell you what—if you eat, i’ll stop crying. alright?”

 Edge didn’t want the soup—or anything, really; his mouth was still gritty with dust. But he did want Rus to stop crying.

He ate.

-

“think it starts bein’ my bus’ness when yer lookin’ ta sleep on my floor.”

Edge dropped the bag. “Fine! I’ll ask Hook—”

Red swore and teleported in front of him. “cripes—would ya jus’ talk ta me fer a minute? ‘m tryin’ ta help you—”

“No, you’re trying to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong! Just leave it alone!” He didn’t realize he’d started shouting until Red took a step back, brow-bones raised.

He huffed and looked away. “I didn’t do anything,” he said again, “He just….”

-

Just a few minutes more. Then he’d get up. Rus was warm beneath him, and his sockets were heavy, and his soul was thrumming in satisfaction. He could feel it projecting subtly, / contentment / warmth / satisfaction / and despite himself, he allowed it. Rus was actually purring beneath him, so Edge couldn’t quite find it in himself to be ashamed.

Or to move, apparently. “I should go,” he said, but before he’d finished speaking, Rus’ hands were on his ribs, skating up and down the scarred bone.

“can i convince you to stay?”

‘No’, was the correct answer. “Hmmm…try.”

He could practically feel Rus grinning. “if you give me a bit, we can go again.”

Edge snorted. “I feel that’s more for—” He corrected himself. “That is at least as much for your benefit as mine.”

“right, right.” He drummed his fingers on Edge’s spine, thinking. “it is a benefit, though?”

“You heard me.”

Rus’ chest shuddered as he laughed quietly. “alright, then.” For some reason his purring had grown louder. “we could shower.”

“I can shower at home.”

“right, but we’ve got hot water for days. and you’ll have me as your faithful bathing attendant.”

Edge tightened his jaw, hiding his smile. “The point of a shower is to get clean, Swapshit.”

“we will! eventually. then, after we’re clean we could go downstairs and watch a movie.”

“Your movies are trash.”

“yeah, but you like to shit-talk, and i like listening to you verbally eviscerate a deserving target. so…?”

Edge sat up, despite Rus’ protests. “And what do you get out of this arrangement?” he asked.

Rus grinned at him, hands settling on his pelvic crests. “how’d you say it? this is as much for your benefit as it is for mine.”

Edge’s soul was still humming, still projecting warmth and satisfaction. “How can I refuse such a mutually beneficial arrangement?”

Rus pulled him down for a slow, exploratory kiss. Edge expected him to move lower, but instead, he pulled back and asked, “hey, have you ever thought about…maybe going on a date?”

-

“…He needs more than I know how to give.”

He could feel Red studying him. “like what?” he asked. But his tone was gentle, and when Edge glared at him, he held up his hands, placating. "boss, ‘m here for ya, alright? know we ain’t…ain’t always been nice ta each other, but ‘m always here fer you. at the end ‘a the day, yer my little brother. i wan’ ya ta be happy.”

-

“the fuck’re you wearing?”

Edge sighed, glancing at his brother’s reflection in the mirror. “The creampuff lent it to me.” He eyed his reflection, trying not to tug on the sleeves of the cream-colored sweater. “Upset I got into his pants first?” he asked, turning to see how the jeans fit.

“little loose on ya, don’t ya think?” Edge glared at him. Red just cocked a brow-bone, daring him to disagree. “why’re ya dressin’ like the creampuff anyway?”

Edge smoothed the front of the sweater. “Rus asked me to join him at NTT’s for dinner. I thought it would be appropriate to dress for the occasion.”

Red’s skull jerked. His mouth pulled into a sneer. “’rus’, huh?”

Edge caught Red’s gaze in the mirror. “Continuing to call him Swapshit seemed childish, all things considered.”

Red grunted, looking him over. “right.” He huffed, then said, “thought ya knew better’n ta shit where ya eat, boss.”

Edge turned to face him, glaring. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Red glared at him. “means we got a sweet deal goin’, but if ya keep stringin’ ‘im along, yer gonna fuck it up fer both ‘a us. they ain’t fell, numbskull—they don’ know the rules yer playin’ by. gonna fuck ‘im up when he realizes ya don’ give a shit ‘bout ‘im.”

Edge glared, hands curling into tight fists. “For the very last time, Sans—this isn’t your business, so stay out of it.”

Red took a step forward, eyelights flaring. “’s my business if ya get us kicked out ‘a their ‘verses! think i’m still gonna be welcome in their home after ya break swapshit’s heart? don’ know ‘bout you, but i like havin’ somewhere ta go other’n this shithole!”

Edge laughed, cruelly and bitterly. “How good of you, to be so concerned for your soft-hearted friends’ feelings. Is that why you’re so reluctant to proposition your creampuff? Afraid you’ll break his poor, sweet heart? Or are you just too cowardly to risk your own?”

“fuck you!” Red yelled. “yer treatin’ this like a stars-damned game! like nobody’s gonna get hurt—like it ain’t real ‘cause there’s no dust on the line! ya can’t fuckin’ play around with ‘im like that, pap! maybe they ain’t the type ta shed dust, but that don’ mean people can’t get hurt—us included. so cut the shit an’ let ‘im go ‘fore yer in too deep.”

Edge turned away from him, studying his own reflection and trying not to fidget. He could feel his sins crawling on his back, and in that moment, he knew his brother wasn’t going to let this go. He may claim his concern was purely motivated by self-interest, but Edge had seen him with the others—he cared, and deeply, even if he pretended not to.

Edge shut his sockets, wrestling with the sudden understanding that his own brother saw him as a villain in this. Knowing, too, that this was the reputation he’d cultivated. He deserved nothing less.

He exhaled slowly, then cleared his throat. “When have you ever known me to ‘play around’ with anyone?” he asked softly.

The silence settled thick between them. He could feel his brother’s gaze on him, searching for the lie.

“…yer serious?”

“Japes and jokes are your forte, not mine.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet his brother’s eyelights—even in the mirror.

Red swore under his breath. “why him, though?”

Edge snorted. “Stars alone know the answer to that.” He turned and held out his arms. “Now can I get an honest opinion on this? I want to make a good impression on our…” He took a deep breath. “…our date.”

Red sighed. “wear yer own pants, ‘less ya wan’ ‘em ta fall off while ya walk,” he said eventually, “sweater’s fine. don’ let anyone out there see ya dressed like that, though. they’d eat ya alive.”

Edge nodded in agreement. “Thank you.”

“yeah, yeah. jus’…don’ fuck this up fer us, alright?”

Edge rolled his eyelights. “Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but maybe I will, just to spite you.”

“asshole.”

“Jackass.”

They exchanged a look. “g’luck, boss,” Red said eventually, leaving Edge to change.

“I won’t need it,” he said loftily, even as his soul buzzed with nervous energy. He tugged once more on the hem of the sweater…before swearing and changing into his own clothes.

Rus knew who—what—he was, and Edge wasn’t going to pretend to be something else for him.

He tossed the clothing at Red as he left. “Go give these back to the creampuff. Maybe grow a set and invite him to bend you over while you’re there.” He shut the door on Red’s indignant stuttering, taking a deep breath of Snowdin’s icy air before he headed to the machine.

-

Edge huffed, toeing the half-filled bag of trash. “He wants someone he can soul-bond with. And I don’t know if I can be that person.”

Red stared at him. “well. fuck.” Edge hummed in agreement. “so, tha’s it then? ya jus’…split?”

Edge shook his head and started stuffing trash back into the bag. “No. We decided we should take some time apart, to figure out what we want—and don’t want—in a relationship.”

“but…ya can’t bond with ‘im. right? tha’s—” Suddenly, Red drew himself up. “he can’t force ya ta do that!”

“He didn’t force anything,” Edge said tiredly.

“bullshit—he’s tryna push ya inta this! an’ he can’t—”

“Red. Enough. He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t force the issue—if anything, I did.”

“what?”

“If that’s what he wants, he shouldn’t have to settle for someone who can’t fulfill his needs. And I…” He took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t extend myself beyond what is reasonable to meet them. It would be foolish to stay, if we truly aren’t compatible. We’ll make each other miserable if we try.”

Red stared at him. “right. okay. fine. you c’n act all mature an’ reasonable, but ya gotta look me in the eyelight, an’ tell me one thing.”

Edge ignored him. “I don’t have to do shit—”

“tell me this’s really how ya feel. tell me ya ain’t jus’ throwin’ away sumthin’ good ‘cause ya don’ think ya d’serve it or ‘cause yer scared.”

Edge huffed, stuffing more trash into the bag. “Maybe when you have the balls to take the creampuff on a date, I’ll consider discussing my relationship woes with you.”

“we’re goin’ t’morrow. havin’ coffee t’gether. gonna—” He swallowed. “—gonna talk ‘bout heat plans. seein’ ‘im through ‘is, an’ he’s seein’ me through mine.”

Edge straightened and studied his brother. “Is this a joke? Because I don’t understand the punchline.”

“not a joke, boss. ‘s the real deal.”

He wanted to be happy for his brother, wanted to celebrate this little victory. But his soul felt hollow, and knowing that his brother was moving on, moving forward made it feel as if he’d taken a big step back in his own life. “Good,” he said, hoping he sounded convincingly pleased. “It was growing tiresome, watching you two circle each other.”

“so?”

“So, what?”

“ya gonna tell me what i need ta hear?”

Edge held his eyelights for a moment, then he looked away. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times—my relationship with Rus is none of your business. Now go get the vacuum cleaner. This place isn’t fit for a pig-sty, and I am not going to be the only one cleaning it. Understood?”

Red studied him, then nodded slowly. “sure thing, boss. back in a sec.”

Chapter Text

Twist paused as he started up the walkway. Cash was still asleep—he could feel the steady peace of dreamless sleep echoing from his side of the bond—but Slim….

He shut his sockets. Slim was awake, and his side of the bond was thrumming. Twist’s ulnae prickled pleasantly. He couldn’t put a name to the sensation traveling through the bond. It lacked the intensity of an orgasm, wasn’t as electric as sexual pleasure. It was most like the first exquisite bite of a good meal, but it didn’t fade. Instead, it hummed through his soul, rising and falling and leaving his mana lines prickling.

A strange, longing ache hit him all at once, and his sockets stung with tears he couldn’t shed.

He hurried inside. “Slim?” It wasn’t panic that lifted his voice, but urgency.

The humming from Slim’s side of the bond cut off. “here,” he said, waving his hand. He pulled the earbuds from his acoustic meati. “everything okay? i—” His hands fluttered, and he signed, “i was going to make breakfast but…you already ate, right?”

Twist nodded slowly, studying him. “Yeah. Had a talk with Edge. Bought ‘im breakfast. You, uh…you doin’ okay?”

Slim cocked his head slightly. “yeah. i’m—good.” His confusion was genuine. Twist approached cautiously, still studying him.

“’Fore I came in…what were ya doin’, darlin’?”

He shrugged. “nothing?” He looked around the kitchen. “trying to find a pan ‘berry wouldn’t mind me using.”

Twist nodded, though that didn’t quite explain what he’d been feeling. Then his gaze landed on the earbuds dangling around Slim’s neck. He reached out, picking one up. “You were lis’enin’ ta music,” he said, more to himself than to Slim.

“yeah? i always—” He froze when he realized the implication of Twist’s question. “you could feel…?” A bright flush colored his cheekbones, and Twist felt the shame wash through him. Hands shaking, he signed, “sorry—i won’t—it won’t happen again—i didn’t mean to—”

Twist wanted to take his hands in his but didn’t dare silence him like that. Instead, he cupped his cheekbone. “Sweetheart, if tha’s how ya experience music, I really hope that ain’t true. I ain’t ever felt anythin’ like that. ‘S—” He shut his sockets and shook his head. “Shit. Don’ know how ta d’scribe it. If tha’s jus’ a fraction ‘a what yer feelin’….” He drew close, pressing his forehead to Slim’s. “Don’ let anyone take ‘at fr’m ya. Tha’s yours, darlin’, an’ 'm fuckin’ lucky ta get a taste ‘a it.”

The shame settled to a simmer, but Slim could surely feel the awe and admiration emanating from Twist. He pulled back and held up the earbud. “Mind sharin’?”

Slowly, Slim nodded, and they each put an earbud in their acoustic meati. He hit play, and Twist got to hear the song that inspired the feelings humming through Slim’s soul. He pulled him close, and for a while, they simply stayed like that—Slim leaning against his chest, Twist’s arms around him while the music played.

It was strange and wonderful, not just hearing the music, but feeling it too. Twist shut his sockets and relaxed into the bond, allowing more of Slim’s feelings to pour through. His breath caught, and he pulled him close, while his mana lines prickled. “This’s what ‘s always like fer ya?” he asked as the song faded.

Slim shook his skull. “only sometimes. some pieces hit harder than others. some are….” He motioned with his hand, indicating he wasn’t impressed.

Twist chuckled. “Prob’ly fer the best. Dunno how ya’d get anythin’ done, otherwise.”

Slim laughed. “it’s not—” He shook his head, still amused. “you get used to it.”

“Hope not, darlin’.”

Slim looked to him. “you’re not…?”

“Not what?”

His hands fluttered, and Twist felt the shame curling through him once again. He didn’t say anything, though—with his hands or his mouth. Instead, he shrugged. Twist studied him, then nodded to himself.

Carefully, he said, “Was talkin’ ta Edge earlier. He, uh, he w’s textin’ Rus sumthin’. Told ‘im I thought it was sweet ‘a him.” He cracked a grin, catching Slim’s eyelight. “He tol’ me ta fuck off.” Slim snorted, grinning back at him.

Twist sobered a little, looking away. “Ya know, growin’ up Fell, always tryna be harder’n meaner’n the next guy…seems like yer always hidin’ yer soft spots. Things ya care ‘bout. Things ‘at scare ya. Ya get so used ta keepin’ those things secret, when it’s actually safe ta share ‘em, ya can’t bring yerself ta do it.” He caught Slim’s eyelight. “Am I makin’ sense?”

Slim nodded slowly. Twist pointed to the earbuds once again dangling from his neck. “Thanks fer sharin’ ‘at with me, sweetheart. ‘Preciate it.” He swallowed and said, taking care to enunciate, “I appreciate you.”

Slim blushed and looked away, but Twist caught his smile, and he felt warmth emanating through the bond. He cleared his throat. “If yer still willin’, ‘m sure Patches’d ‘preciate breakfast.”

Slim nodded, and Twist directed him to the cabinet where Blackberry kept the pans. Slim wasn’t one for idle chit-chat, but he seemed to enjoy Twist’s patter nonetheless. Twist didn’t say much in particular, but he kept an eyelight on Slim’s face, hoping to catch it when he grinned at one of Twist’s jokes or puns.

Cash joined them not long after. He rolled his eyelight when Twist greeted him, saying only, “it’s too early for you to sound so fucking happy.”

That earned him a laugh and a cup of coffee, which he clung to like a lifeline. He was even less inclined toward idle chatter, but as the coffee worked its magic, he was more than happy to verbally spar with Twist.

It was their first morning without the fugue of heat to muddy things. Twist found himself eager for the next, and the next.

Then Slim asked, “your brother’s coming home today, right?” and Twist remembered that they couldn’t simply sink into the first flush of a new relationship.

He ran a hand down his face, repressing a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

Cash sipped at his coffee, eyeing Twist from over the rim. “he’s your brother,” he said, “you decide how we handle him.”

His tone was harsh, uncompromising, but anxiety bubbled from his end of the bond. He flushed when he remembered they could feel it. He tried to close them out, then started swearing when he realized he could only dim the connection, not silence it.

Twist spared him the embarrassment and pretended he hadn’t noticed—even as Slim settled at Cash’s back, with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ll handle it,” he said grimly, standing to retrieve his own mug. “Gotta r’mind ‘im ta keep our b’isness to ‘imself anyway.” He exhaled slowly, trying not to think about the secrets Blackberry had spilled, what Blue and Papyrus—two Tale-verse monsters—might know about them now.

Slim and Cash eyed him. “What?” he asked, feeling tension through the bond. “Ya said yerself—he’s mine, so I handle ‘im.”

“you’re just….” Slim faltered, looking away.

Cash clicked his fingers, and a fresh coin glinted between the bones. He spun it slowly. “we’ve just never heard you say shit about your little bro before,” he said, “even when he’s being a royal pain in the ass—”

Twist’s sockets narrowed. “Watch it.”

Cash nodded, as if that confirmed something for him, and he stilled the coin. “didn’t think you could get mad at him, frankly.”

Twist snorted. “Yer kiddin’, right? Love ‘im ta death, but—” He ran a hand down his face again. “Fuck if ‘e don’ make it hard sumtimes.” He shook his skull, looking into the depths of his coffee. “He thinks….” He winced, and his mind turned away, refusing to examine how his brother perceived him. “Don’ matter. ‘M gonna talk to ‘im. Jus’ don’—”

The front door rattled. “—not knocking to enter my own home!” came Blackberry’s voice as the door opened.

Papyrus sighed and said, deliberately raising his voice, “I JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO LET EVERYONE KNOW YOU WERE HERE! WE WOULDN’T WANT TO BE INTERRUPTING ANYTHING! CERTAINLY, WE WOULDN’T WANT TO SURPRISE ANYONE BY SUDDENLY APPEARING IN THEIR HOME VERY EARLY IN THE MORNING!”

Slim covered his mouth, hiding his smile, while Cash grimaced. “Thanks, Pap,” Twist said, waving at them from the kitchen. “Ain’t in’erruptin’ nuthin’ but breakfast.”

Blackberry froze, Papyrus and Blue just behind him. “Oh. You’ve eaten already?” He straightened. “Who cooked?!” He sounded both surprised and offended.

Twist raised a brow-bone. “Slim. Made eggs an’ toast. Ya wan’ some?”

“Oh. That’s alright then,” Blackberry said, and Twist took a slow, steady inhale to calm his irritation. “I’m glad you’re getting something home-cooked, at least. I was worried you’d had nothing but take out all week.”

“We managed,” Twist said coolly. Blackberry studied him, and Twist had to stop himself from rolling his head to the side and scratching his cervical vertebrae. Calling attention to the healing bite-marks just hidden by his hoodie would only serve to agitate his brother, and he wanted to have a productive conversation. “What about you?” he asked, “Everythin’ go okay?” He glanced at Papyrus and Blue. “Anythin’ I need ta know ‘bout?”

Blue and Papyrus looked confused, but he could sense the alarm from Slim’s side of the bond. Cash only seemed amused. “Nope! Everything was fine,” Blackberry said, and Twist nodded.

“Glad ta hear it.” Even if he was quietly furious with his brother, he’d have addressed it if Papyrus or Blue had crossed any lines. “You two’re welcome ta stay fer coffee an’ breakfast, if ya like. Ain’t fancy, but ‘s food.”

Blue seemed uncertain, but Papyrus—educated by Red—had a little more experience with Fell culture. “WE’D LOVE TO, TWISTED-ME!”

Deliberately, Twist turned to Slim. “Wouldja mind, darlin’? Know ya didn’ sign up ta cook fer five.”

Slim hesitated, glancing at Blackberry, but he could sense the intent simmering through Twist’s words. “no problem,” he signed.

Blackberry froze. “Papy, don’t be rude—he’s a guest.”

Twist shrugged. “Been ‘is home fer a week. An’ he already said he don’ mind.” Blackberry looked like he’d had his legs knocked out from under him. Twist leaned forward. “’sides, we need ta talk. Cash an’ Slim c’n host.”

Blackberry looked from him to the other Fell monsters. Slim wouldn’t let him catch his gaze, and Cash held it for a beat, before smirking. “yeah, ‘berry. happy to help,” he said.

“But—”

Twist stood to his full height and stretched. “C’mon, little bro. Le’s take a walk, yeah?”

Blackberry floundered, looking lost. Then, with one last look at Cash and Slim, he said, “Alright….”

Twist put a hand on his shoulder and guided him outside. As soon as they were on the porch, he lit up. Blackberry eyed the cigarette but correctly read that now was not the time to attempt a lecture. Twist exhaled slowly, smoke curling from the back of his jaw. He eyed the cig between his fingers. “Right. Firs’ things first—wha’d ya tell ‘em?”

“Nothing—”

Twist glared. “Don’ you dare fuckin’ lie ta me. If yer spreadin’ our b’siness around—my b’siness—then I got a right ta know what the fuck ya said!”

Blackberry looked away, toeing the ground. “I didn’t tell them anything,” he muttered. “Not really. I just said she hurt you. That’s all.”

Twist glared at him. “Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth!”

Disgusted, Twist took a drag on the cigarette and started down the steps. “Well, whatever ya said—or said without sayin’—” He gave Blackberry a meaningful look. “—it was more’n ya shoulda. That shit ain’t yours ta share, got me?”

Blackberry refused to look at him, but the set of his jaw made it clear he was angry rather than regretful or ashamed. “I had to say something, so they’d understand.”

“Un’erstand what?”

Blackberry glanced at him, then started down the steps. “I only gave them enough information so they’d know why I was upset.”

Twist sighed and they walked in silence. The anger, coiled tight and hot behind his sternum, loosened but didn’t dissipate. He took another drag. “Why don’ ya tell me what ya were upset about, yeah?”

Blackberry kicked a pebble out of their path. “…they told me you were looking after Slim and Cash for their heats.”

The anger flared, but he breathed through it. “Don’ think ya got any need ta be upset ‘bout that, sweetheart.” Blackberry muttered something under his breath. “Care ta say ‘at again?”

“I said—I wouldn’t be if I didn’t think you’d let them take advantage of you!”

Twist popped his jaw. “Darlin’, ‘m gonna say this once, an’ then yer gonna drop it. Ya un’erstand me?” Blackberry glared but didn’t interrupt. “What Cash, Slim, an’ I do b’hind closed doors ain’t yer b’siness. That clear?”

“It’s my business if they’re hurting you—”

“Alright, sweetheart. I c’n agree ta that—but you gotta accept that ya need ta wait fer me ta ask fer your help b’fore ya start stickin’ yer nose in.”

“I would if I thought you’d actually ask!”

Twist huffed and crossed his arms. “I’d ask! If I needed yer help, I’d fuckin’ ask!”

“When have you ever asked for help, unprompted, ever?!”

Twist opened his mouth. Shut it. “I’d ask,” he said again, voice clipped and short.

Blackberry shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, tha’s too damn bad—‘cause ya don’ have another option here. Cash, Slim, an’ me….” He took a deep breath. “We d’cided ta give datin’ a try. An’ yer gonna respect that.”

Blackberry stared at him. “What?”

“We’re gonna start dating.”

“They can’t—”

“No one’s askin’ fer yer permission, darlin’. Or yer input. ‘M jus’ tellin’ ya how it is.” Blackberry shook his head, but Twist ignored him. “Only thing ‘m askin’ is this—ya gonna make trouble fer us or are ya gonna r’spect my wishes?”

“You’re—this is a mistake. Have you even thought about this, or did they pressure you—?”

Twist held up a hand. “Sweetheart, ‘m stoppin’ ya there. Ya keep talkin’ like tha’, ‘an I’ll assume yer not gonna respect our decision. An’ if yer intendin’ on makin’ trouble….” He sighed. “Well, there’s cons’quences ta that. Cons’quences neither ‘a us are gonna like. So, how’s it gonna be? Can ya play nice?”

Blackberry stared at him, and Twist sighed, looking away. “I ain’t askin’ ya ta be happy ‘bout it. Jus’ askin’ ya ta keep yer opinions ta yerself. Can ya do ‘at fer me, darlin’? Please?”

Blackberry didn’t speak at first. He pressed his palms together and took a deep breath. When he finally spoke, his slow cadence made it clear he was choosing his words carefully. “I’m just. Concerned. I think you’re jumping into something without considering the risks.”

“What risks, sweetheart? Whaddaya think’s gonna happen?”

“They could hurt you—”

“Hurt me, how? Be specific, darlin’. Tell me how two monsters with less ‘an ten HP b’tween ‘em are gonna hurt me. If anyone should be worried, ‘s them.”

“Their KR could certainly hurt you! And you don’t even have access to your combat magic!”

Twist pinched the ridge of bone between his eyes. “This’s pointless. They ain’t gonna hurt me—an’ I ain’t plannin’ on hurtin’ them. You know 'em, darlin’; they’re yer friends, ain’t they? You really think so little of ‘em, ta think that?” He tried to catch Blackberry’s eyelight, but he avoided it expertly. “Gonna ask again—an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya distract me—are ya gonna keep yer opinions ta yerself? Or are we gonna have a problem?”

Blackberry swallowed, still avoiding his gaze. Finally—just as Twist’s soul was starting to sink—he said, “Promise me you’ll actually say something if they hurt you.”

Twist’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Yes. I promise—if I need help, I’ll ask fer it. Swear on my soul.”

“Fine. I won’t say anything about it, then.”

“Tha’s all I’m askin’.” Twist stubbed out the old cigarette and went to light a new one, relieved to finally have this conversation finished. Blackberry watched him with keen eyelights. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…” He shrugged. “You promised you’d quit.”

Twist shut his sockets and sighed, beginning to see the bars of the cage he’d built for himself. “Yeah,” he rumbled, stuffing the lighter back into his pocket. “Yeah, I did.” He didn’t pocket the pack, though, instead passing it to his brother. “Why don’ you hang on ta these, then, yeah?”

“If you need me to.”

He shot his brother a look. “Be a lot less temptin’ in yer pocket 'an they are in mine.”

They walked back to the house in oppressive silence. Anger still coiled behind Twist’s sternum, but so long as Blackberry kept to his side of their bargain, he knew it would fade away. They were brothers, after all, and they’d come through worse than this.

When they reached the porch, he knuckled the top of Blackberry’s skull. “You gonna be nice?” he asked, when Blackberry brushed his hand away.

“I didn’t agree to that—I said I’d keep my opinions to myself.”

Twist snorted. “Fair ‘nough. Shoulda known better—after all, I’m the one ‘at taught ya how ta strike a deal, didn’ I?”

Blackberry scowled, still irritated with him. “You got the best bargain you could have asked for—I wouldn’t have offered more.”

That actually made him laugh. “Fer a promise an’ a pack a smokes, think I did okay fer myself.” Blackberry’s scowl deepened, and Twist pointed at him, “Don’ go tryin’ those yerself, now. ‘S a hard habit ta break.”

Blackberry sputtered. “I’m not going to—of course I wouldn’t! I’m throwing them away as soon as we get inside!”

“Sure ya are, darlin’. ‘S normal ta be c’rious, though. Jus’ don’ wan’ ya ta pick up my bad habits, yeah?”

“Papy, I’m not going to start smoking! You’re being ridiculous!”

“Alright,” he said, opening the door for him, “R’member, though—ain’t like smokin’ a joint. Ya don’ hold yer breath after inhalin’, yeah? Make yerself sick, doin’ tha’.”

“Star’s sakes, Papyrus! I’m not taking up smoking!” he fumed, “These are going in the trash!”

Twist hid his grin. “Okay, okay. Jus’ rather have ya know you c’n come ta me if ya need advice, right? Even ‘bout sumthin’ like this. Ain’t gonna judge.”

 “You are infuriating!” he snapped, storming into the kitchen—past the other skeletons sitting at the dining room table and watching them with wide sockets. Slim dutifully covered his mouth to hide his amusement, while Blackberry threw open the trash bin and slammed the pack inside. He glared at his brother, silently daring him to say more.

Instead, Papyrus observed, “TWISTED-ME, I DON’T THINK YOU SHOULD BE ENCOURAGING YOUR BROTHER TO TAKE UP SMOKING.”

Blackberry made a strangled sound, while Twist held up his hands. “Hey, now, I ain’t encouragin’ it! Jus’ lettin’ ‘im know ‘m here if he’s got questions. He’s an adult—he c’n do what he likes, yeah? S’long as he ain’t hurtin’ no one….” He shrugged. “Ain’t my place ta tell ‘im otherwise.”

Blue leaned forward to look at him. “Would you mind telling Papy that?”

Twist scratched the back of his neck. “Well, sure, sweetheart—but he’s been smokin’ fer years, now. Don’ know what kind of advice he’d need fr’m me,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding the request.

Blackberry groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “I hate you,” he grumbled, but the words were toothless.

Twist took a seat beside Slim so he could lace their fingers together under the table. “Well, ‘m sorry ta hear tha’, darlin’. ‘Cause yer one ‘a my top five fav’rite brothers, easy.”

“I’m your only brother!”

“Top three, then,” he said with a wink. That earned him another wordless cry of indignation, which he ignored. “Thanks fer cookin’, sweetheart,” he told Slim. “’Preciate it.”

With one hand, he signed, “anytime.”

Blackberry eyed the scrambled eggs and toast Slim had left for him. With a sigh, he made himself a plate. “Thank you,” he said begrudgingly, sitting beside Blue. He stabbed at the eggs but didn’t seem particularly interested in eating.

Cash cleared his throat, looking at Blackberry. “when have you ever smoked a joint?” he asked derisively.

Exasperated, Blackberry rolled his eyelights. “You sold our product—you think I never sampled it?”

That got both Twist and Slim snickering, while Blue and Papyrus stared. “WAIT—”

“What product?”

Twist smirked. “Guess we never tolja how we made money Un’erground, huh?”

That started a whole new round of questions and exclamations from the two Tale-verse monsters. Twist just sipped his coffee, grinning to himself. Under the table, he squeezed Slim’s hand. Cash caught his eyelight, and Twist felt their amusement echo back to him through the bond.

He missed the quiet banter they’d shared in private, but this was good too, he decided.