Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You think it’s the jingle of the keys that alerts him that you’re home. It’s always when you start sifting through your pockets for your them that you hear Papyrus' loud footfalls rushing towards the door. You don’t bother taking them out once you find them. The door swings open and before you can say anything a large pair of skeleton hands have already grabbed you by the ribs and yanked you inside.

You giggle as Papyrus shifts to hold you in a dance lift, snuggling his face into your collar bone. You don’t know why he started doing this, going from a few nuzzles whenever you got home to a quick hug turned to a tight squeeze with him squishing his face into your cheek with an exaggerated “MWAH” to this. It’s sweet though, and you can’t help but enjoy it whenever Papyrus shows off how strong he is, picking you up like you weigh nothing at all.

“How was your day so far hun?”

“ALL THE BETTER NOW THAT YOU’RE HOME, STAR.” He says as he sets you down. “WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG ANYWAYS? YOU’RE TEN MINUTES LATER THAN USUAL.”

You check the clock on the wall of the living room, it’s seven-thirty in the morning.

“Oh, the bus was super late. Almost thought I missed it until it finally wheeled up.” You say as you begin to untie your shoes. It’s quite a moment, and while you aren’t sure what you expect him to say, something feels almost tilted in the stretched couple beats of silence.

“I THINK YOU SHOULD QUIT YOUR JOB.” It’s sudden, enough to make you pause in the process of slipping your shoes off.

“Where is this coming from?” you asked, confused.

“NIGHT SHIFT IS HORRIBLE FOR YOU! MANUEL LABOR CAN ALREADY BE TAXING AS IS, BUT YOU’RE ALSO THROWING OFF YOUR BODIES NATURAL SLEEP CYCLE.”

Shoes placed on the rack, you looked up at Papyrus. His hands are clasped together in front of him, his shoulder perfectly level as he stares down at you. He doesn’t sound mad or particularly fretful, no he’s perfectly calm. He’s been thinking about this for a while. You’ve also been working this warehouse job as long as you've known Papyrus though, so you aren’t sure why it’s suddenly a problem now.

“Trust me Papyrus, I know the risks, I’m the one who told you about them. It’s still the best paying job with benefits out the wazoo. The schedule is the worst part of it, I can handle everything about as well as I can get.”

“YOU DON’T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT MONEY,” he says, waving his hand in the air as if to bat away the thought, “SANS AND I MAKE PLENTY TO TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING.”

“And my insurance that I get through my job?”

“YOU CAN GET STATE INSURANCE, LIKE YOU HAD BEFORE. THAT ALWAYS COVERED YOU JUST FINE.”

You’ve don’t even get into the politics of how fickle state insurance can be, instead bringing up your most immediate concern. “Papyrus, I’d have to drop my therapist if I did that,” you say, crossing your arms.

You felt a pang of something through your soulbond with Papyrus. You weren’t sure what it was. Indignation? Jealousy? Mistrust? They all felt ball park but not right either. It wasn’t even targeted at you though, at least you don’t think so. But it’s still odd, Papyrus never had issues with you seeking therapy. He’d cheered you on when you finally went back after dropping it for a few years.

He mirrors you, crossing his arms as well. “YOU HAVE TO TAKE THE PATH THROUGH THAT SKETCHY PARK IN PITCH BLACK TOO! IT’S NOT SAFE, YOU’VE HEARD HOW THEY’VE SEEN PEOPLE RUNNING AROUND AT NIGHT.”

Apparently he wasn’t going to touch therapy, despite feeling some way about it. You ignored that, instead nodding to what he said. The path was indeed sketchy, but you had walked it enough you could literally walk it with your eyes closed. You didn’t use a flashlight and walked as quietly as you could, doing what you could to not draw attention to yourself if someone was wandering around. It was oddly one of the places you were most familiar with and had the easiest time keeping track of your surroundings.

“That’s just until they finish the main road. Once that’s done the bus won’t have to take the detour and I can be dropped right in front of the parking lot.”

“AND HOW LONG IS THAT GOING TO TAKE?” He’s getting more firm now, voice taking an annoyed tilt as the conversation continues.

You shrug, avoiding looking at his face. It’s been years, they’re still digging out the sides to expand the two lanes into four and you don’t know how to check how long it’s supposed to be now. “Look, I’ll see if I can switch to day shift, but it may be a while. We’re really short staffed on the nightshift so they aren’t going to be quick on moving me around.”

“I STILL THINK YOU SHOULD QUIT ALTOGETHER! NO WORKPLACE SHOULD HAVE TO HAVE SUDDEN DEATH AND DISMEMBERSHIP INSURANCE!”

You sigh, trying to pick your words carefully. You’d never be able to make him see that as a good thing, having a safety net just in case something happened. “They have that because it’s a warehouse that uses a lot of heavy machinery, all of which I’m certified to use and know how to be safe around. Besides, we had surf and turf last month for going a year without injury. The last time someone got hurt it wasn’t even the machinery, someone just tripped on their shoe laces and concussed themself on a door frame.”

“AND WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IF SOMETHING HAPPENS? IF SOMEONE IMPROPERLY WRAPS A PALLET AGAIN BUT THIS TIME INSTEAD OF BEING A LITTLE WOBBLE YOU GET SHOWERED IN BOXES OF NAILS? OR SOMEONE OVER EXTENDS AND TIPS AN AISLE ON YOU? JUST BECAUSE IT HASN’T HAPPENED YET DOESN’T MEAN IT WON’T. I’M ALWAYS WORRIED SICK WHEN YOU’RE GONE!” His hands are on your shoulders now. His voice wobbles slightly as he speaks. You look up, his face is full of concern, his grip tightening slightly as you meet his gaze.

A part of you is genuinely touched that he cares so much. You never had someone so concerned for your safety and well being before him and Sans. It felt good to finally have someone at home waiting for you to come back. Worrying and fretting about your safety and actually trying to push you to be safer instead of pushing you into whatever was easiest for them

The other part of you is still wary of this new development. Sure he was a worry wart at times, often expressing concern when you came home with a story of something slightly sketchy happening, but he always trusted you when you said you had it handled and that everyone at work was very serious about safety. You don’t know what caused the sudden change of opinion.

You take a deep breath in, closing your eyes as you do so. took both parts into consideration, contemplating what you were saying very carefully. It shouldn’t, but this conversation felt precarious.

You let your breath out slowly, opening your eyes as you do so. Your head is a little clearer as you meet Papyrus’ gaze again. “If I switch to dayshift I won’t be driving the forklifts as often, the focus will be more on packing palettes and taking stock. Then I can make sure there aren’t anymore sketchy palettes,” you try to nullify.

It doesn’t work. “I STILL JUST THINK YOU SHOULD QUIT.” He really wasn’t taking no for an answer on this.

You can’t help the slightly exacerbated sigh that escapes you. You just want to drop this whole conversation. “Look, I just got home, hun. I love you, and I appreciate your concern,” you try, laying it on thick in hopes to get him to let it go, “I’m just not going to commit to something like that in an instant, especially when I’m super hungry and tired from a long day.” You reach up, gently placing your hands on each side of his face, cradling his head between your hands.

He melts into it, eyes closing as he places his hand over yours. His body finally loosens from his stiff posture, focusing solely on your touch now.

“So, can I sit my sore but down on the couch so we can snuggle yet, or are we going to stand in front of the door all day?” you try.

He jolts up immediately, like a puppet springing to life. “OF COURSE! LET ME GET YOUR BREAKFAST FROM THE TABLE!”

With that he was off, a Papyrus colored blur as you finally flopped onto the couch full force. As long as you kept moving you usually didn’t feel much, but the moment you finally sat down to rest you could feel the weight of the day take hold of your body. Your shoes were cushioned enough that your feet didn’t hurt, but standing in a forklift for hours on end ment your knees and back aches at the end of the day. Your poor posture didn’t exactly help, but you took the free moment to finally relax, twisting this way and that to crack your back and release what little tension you could.

You sighed in relief as Papyrus returned from the kitchen, a lap tray of food in each hand. You shifted into a proper sitting position, letting him sit beside you and place the tray on your lap. He always hated when anyone ate on the couch because of the crumbs, but the trays made a good compromise. Especially when it meant you could lean into him and snuggle a bit when you two ate, something you were happy to do as you finally got the chance to wind down.

“You’ve gotten really good at omelets. I'm proud of you,” You praise, looking at the perfectly folded omelet on your plate. There were small flakes of vegetables, but he learned that if he minced them small enough and added a bit more cheese, it didn’t change the texture or taste enough for you to turn your nose up to it.

He beamed at the praise. “OF COURSE! NOTHING BUT MY BEST FOR THE BEST DATEMATE I COULD ASK FOR!” He came a long way from using every knife like it was clever and just turning the heat up as high as it could go so things would cook faster. Sans wasn’t much of a cook, so he didn’t have much he could teach his little brother. As much as Undyne had taught him, you had learned her methods were… unconventional to say the least. You weren’t a cook by any means either, but you could follow a recipe and chop up things, even if you were a little slow. The last couple months especially you had seen him improving quickly, taking the little tips and tricks you had given him at the start of your relationship and improving in leaps and bounds.

You smile as he turns on one of your comfort shows on the TV. You’re sure he can feel the exhaustion seeping through your soulbond. The food is good though. A glass of milk, some chopped fresh fruit, a tasty omlet and some toast. It’s a lot for you. He’s really been trying to get you to eat regularly, focusing on getting you to kick the habit of skipping meals when you feel too tired to eat.

You’ve been living with him a year now, and you still can barely wrap your head around it sometimes. Always one to throw himself into anything full force, he never skimped on a chance to take care of you. It could be a little overwhelming at times, but you got used to it as time marched on. Each instance of you being surprised by his care taken as a challenge for him to make up for lost time and love that he believed you deserved.

You’re barely half way through your food when Papyrus sets his tray on the table in front of the couch, finished with his meal. He starts to gently shift you so your back is to him. You let out a confused humm but follow along.

“Just Relax Dear, I Want To Help You Feel Good.” He says, placing his hands on your shoulders. You wouldn’t think bones could be so relaxing, but he’s gentle as he starts feeling out each muscle, gently pressing and testing for knots. You can feel warm spreading beneath his finger tips, green magic working in tandem with his ministrations to coax your muscles into unwinding. He knows by now where you hold your stress the most, paying special attention to those spots. He’s thorough, slowly making his way from the base of your skull down to where your spine turns to your tailbone, not leaving a single spot of your back untouched.

You’re so lost in the feeling, closing your eyes so you can soak up each bit of the attention, that you completely forget that you’re still supposed to be eating breakfast. It’s just him and his hands working their way down.

That is until he stops. You’re practically a puddle in his arms, leaning fully into his chest, eyes closed as you soak up the attention. Then you feel something bump gently against your lips.

“Come On, You Still Need To Finish Your Food.” Opening your eyes reveals a bite of fruit stabbed on a fork held aloft by Papyrus, his slightly hunched form almost engulfing you.

Exhaustion has long since bled into sleepiness. The gentle attention and Papyrus’ softer voice lulling you the longer you sit. Your head feels like it’s full of cotton, thoughts slowed down as your left feeling sappy and cared for. You lean forward, gently eating the slice without question. You can feel Papyrus nuzzle into the top of your head and you lean back into him, doing your best to express how you feel through your soulbond. Humans aren’t as sensitive to the soulbonds, but you’ve put in the effort to make sure yours with Papyrus was strong. He was important to you, and you wanted to make sure he knew much he meant to you in any way you could.

So you did your best through your addled mind, pushing every mushy feeling and ounce of affection and love through your soulbond as you could. He clearly got the message, as his other arm snaked around your middle to hold all the tighter.

He kept feeding you, bite after bite, easily using his one arm to break things up into small pieces and give it to you. He moved to grab the cup but you got it first, drinking the last few sips. You’d rather not risk him accidentally waterboarding you with milk, you thought with a small laugh.

Once you set down the glass he silently placed the tray beside his and then picked you up in his arms. His grip was firm and stable, you never worried he’d drop you.

“I Love You So Much,” he says as he marches up the stairs. “So Soft. Absolutely Adorable All Times Of The day.” He gently pushes open the door to your shared room. You rest your head against his chest, nodding happily. You’re tired enough you don’t want to talk much, but you both know you love him just as much.

He gently sets you down on the bed, pressing a skeleton kiss on your forehead, then turns to the dresser and starts pulling out your pajamas. He’s looking for your favorite pair, able to quickly find how organized he always is.

When he turns around, pajamas in hand, an utterly love struck expression plastered on his face, you can’t help but melt a little more. Sure, he’s been a little more clingy than usual, and the chat today was out of nowhere, but he’s just been worried like he always is. Nightmares probably. He always had a bad habit of hiding his worst feelings till they were too much for him to handle properly. You’d think more about all that and your job later, right now you were focusing on the fact that Papyrus was trying to take your shirt off.

“I can dress myself, Hun.” It’s barely a whisper, but you know he can hear you as you. You move to start undressing yourself but he takes hold of your hands before you can do much.

“But I Want To Do This For You. You Deserve So Much Love And Care.” His voice is soft, tender. More nuzzling against your neck before he’s lifting your shirt above your head. He lays you back, unbuckles your belt and unbuttons your jeans. You lean forward enough as you help shimmy out of your pants to place a kiss on the top of his skull. He laughs softly, helping you slip into your much softer pajama pants as you continue to pepper everywhere you reach with affection.

He slides your shirt over your shoulders and then carefully do up each button for you. On the last one he looks up, his gaze meeting yours. You place a kiss to his teeth, knowing that despite him not having lips he still enjoys it nonetheless. He leans in, closing his eyes as he cups your face in return. You wrap your arms around his chest.

And quickly before he can react, you shift your weight back, pulling back and up as much as you can as you roll. Papyrus is pulled with, as intended, and you end up wrapping your legs around him for good measure. He’s on the other side of the bed now with you clinging to him like a koala now. He’s far from upset from this development though, laughing as he pulls you in. You can feel his chest expand before he lets out a large sigh. You let out a large yawn in response and tuck your head into the crook of his neck. You’re warm and comfortable, and that last move was the last of the energy you wanted to expend for the rest of the day.

You mutter a good night, barely able to make out the words as you finally let yourself fall asleep. You know he’ll tuck you in, keeping you warm and cared for in your sleep.

Chapter Text

You tried to switch shifts. Insisted that your family was having issues and you couldn’t maintain the night shift schedule anymore. The hiring manager had said before that if you needed a schedule change they’d work with you to help suit your needs. It should be a simple thing, just work out what’s already scheduled then hop to dayside to help out. It wasn’t a complicated process.

Turns out, no matter what you say, they prioritize their needs over yours. You’re the one person on the night shift that is certified to use all the machines, other than the managers. Sure, you don’t have a lot of experience on them, but with how few people are on night shift as is, you're invaluable enough that they’re dragging their feet to actually do anything.

“It’ll be easier after the spring rush is over!” they say.

In four months.

All the while, in the week you’ve been fighting and clawing this battle, pulling and needling at any higher ups in the warehouse you could speak too, Papyrus has been pushing you to just quit. You bring up how you need to go to bed, he starts complaining about your schedule. When you wake up, he tries to convince you to stay home. You remind him you still have work and he presses you to just not show up anymore. Hell, what about when you don’t have work because it’s one of your two nights off? Wouldn’t it be so nice if every day was like this? You should just quit and drop your job!

You’ve been trying to keep him in the loop of what’s going on and how you’re listening to him but it’s not enough. If they aren’t listening to you, they’re clearly horrible bosses who don’t value your time and safety. Obviously, you should just quit because of this.

It’s enough to make you dread coming home.

You know once you hop off the bus and walk up the door you'll have to deal with your hot and cold boyfriend again. One moment the most doting and caring person you had ever known, the next dredging up the same argument and making you exhausted all over again.

It’s enough you’ve been pushing off going to bed just to dely the inevitable conversation that would start up. You hadn’t been getting a whole lot of sleep in the first place, but you’ve been steadily dwindling from six hours a night to three. Add on that you got saddled with the one machine that has faulty sensors, screaming at you for nearly running into things that don’t exist every twenty seconds, and you’ve got the mother of all migraines.

You can’t stop your leg from bouncing, knowing what it’ll look like when you get home. How you’ll have to put on a smile and sit down and eat breakfast like you’re perfectly okay. The thought of eating alone makes you sick. If you even breathe a word of how taxing everything has been on you it’ll be the same thing all over again, compounding the problem even more. You can’t hide it either, your soulbond is going to be an open window for him to see everything you feel.

You don’t know if you can handle going home right now.

And apparently the bus driver is telepathic, because instead of stopping, they blow right past you.

It takes a moment to process that it even happened. Enough to finally break the scenario that’s playing on loop in your mind. Did they just not see you? Or did they just not care enough to do their job and pick you up? What were you supposed to do now? You could walk home or wait an hour for the next bus. You’d be fine with walking, you’ve had to do it a few times. Your knees have been aching more the last few weeks though. It might be your knee caps loosening again, the tendons getting over worked and struggling to prevent them from shifting too much. Not only would walking that far just hurt, but you were trying to let them rest if you could.

Either way, you’re going to be late. There isn’t any way you can wiggle out of it.

You lean back on the bus stop. Your back aches, your head is pounding, and now you have an even worse fight slowly cooking in the background to come home to. You almost want to cry.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine. Fine. Fine.

Papyrus wins. You aren’t happy about it, but you can’t take it anymore. You’re burning yourself out fighting it on both sides and if it continues any longer you're going to have a melt down.

You pull your phone out, dialing your boss’ number. You aren’t paying much attention to the call, just feeding him some bullshit about how your family situation that had you trying to switch shifts turned into a full blown crisis. You can’t make it to work anymore, just clear your locker of your stuff. You don’t care enough to grab the water bottle and old snacks.

You hang up, doing your best to breathe, trying to relax. That should be a huge weight off your shoulders now, the root of all the issues and stress finally torn out without ceremony. You should feel better. You sort of do but…

It almost feels uneven. Like if you loaded up a massive plate with everything that was awful, instead of carefully removing things piece by piece someone just cleaved off the largest chunk and left you scrambling to balance it properly in one hand. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes. A muddled mess of frustration and anguish rolling through you in waves.

You should be fine now! You fixed it! You did what you were supposed to… Why are you crying?

The sun is starting to rise. It’s been rising earlier each day with spring approaching. It’s pretty, as sunset in the most mundane places often are, but your head is pounding too much to properly enjoy it. Wiping your eyes you do what you can to will yourself to be calm again. You need to call Papyrus, the news of you quitting should be enough to get him off your back for the day and give you some space. You just need to not be a blubbering mess first.

It takes a minute or too, but eventually you’re some form of stable again. You can feel your chest aching, all the emotions churning just under the surface, but you’ve calmed yourself enough that you mostly feel tired.

You dail Papyrus. It doesn’t even get past the first ring before he picks up.

“HELLO? I’M FAR FROM UPSET AT BEING ABLE TO TALK TO MY INCREDIBLE DATE MATE BEFORE THEY GET HOME, BUT YOU USUALLY DON’T CALL. IS SOMETHING WRONG?”

“I’m at the bus stop, Paps. It blew past me so I need a ride.”

“THAT’S SUCH BULLSHIT.” he scoffs, “THESE UNRELIABLE BUSES ARE EXACTLY WHY I-”

“I quit my job,” You cut in. You expect an immediate response but all you get is dead air. You can practically see the ‘Papyrus.exe has stopped working’ pop up. “When the bus blew past I took the chance to call my boss and let him know I couldn’t do it anymore,” you continue, giving him time to put his words together. “Fully quit too. Not doing the two weeks thing. It’s just not really worth all this.”

“I… THIS! THIS IS THE BEST NEWS I COULD HAVE ASKED FOR! THIS A CALLS FOR A CELEBRATION!” You can hear the excitement in his voice. It would be heart warming in any other situation.

“No, this calls for a ride home and a nap.”

You can hear him walking around now, the faint jingling of keys as he gathers his things to leave the house.

“WHAT? NO! YOU’VE BEEN SPENDING TOO MUCH TIME WITH MY LAZY BONES BROTHER. YOU NEED TO RESET YOUR SLEEP IMMEDIATELY! YOU’VE GOT TO STAY UP TILL EIGHT AT LEAST.”

You don’t even hide the groan that escapes you. “But I’m bone tired ‘Pyrus,” you whine. You bite back a smile at the incredulous noise Papyrus makes. He may have a point though, you really have been spending too much time with Sans if that was your go too. “I got like two hours of sleep last night. I’m running on nothing but fumes. Think I might just keel over if I don’t get at least a little shut eye.”

He hums, “I STILL DON’T LIKE THE IDEA OF YOU POTENTIALLY NAPPING THE WHOLE DAY AWAY.” You can hear the sound of his car starting up. You’re pretty sure you’re on speaker now.

“What if…” You’re trying to think of something that might let him budge a little, but you’re practically thinking through clay at this point, “what if Sans acts as nap supervisor? He’s got the most experience between the three of us of course.”

He scoffs at that, “SANS WOULD ONLY ENCOURAGE YOU TO NAP LONGER!” It’s something you're counting on actually. You might be able to squeeze a little more time out of Papyrus if it’s two against one.

“What if you supervise his supervision? We chill on the couch, Sans making sure I’m napping as hard as I possibly can, and you’re there to make sure we don’t sleep longer than like, an hour.”

“AN HOUR IS FAR TOO LONG!”

“Huuun,” you whine again, hoping he might fold if you throw in enough theatrics. “It feels like someone is stabbing at my eyes with an ice pick. I really need sleep right now, especially if I have to stay up for another twelve hours.”

You hear a grumble over the phone, but he doesn’t bother responding. He must have been speeding because you can see his cherry red car pulling up. You stand of course, ready to finally go hime, but have to fumble to grab the bus stop post to keep yourself from falling over. Your while vision flashes white, the back of your head blossoming with warmth as you loose all feeling of where up and down are.

“-OU OKAY?” Papyrus says, his voice fading in with everything else. He couldn’t shortcut like his brother, but considering he had somehow already crossed the street he clearly didn’t need to.

“Ya, just stood up too fast.” you reassure, “Happens sometimes, you know that. Just want to get home.”

“WELL THAT IS WHAT I’M HERE FOR, SWEET TART! Now, Let's Get You Home.” The last part is softer, more tender as he wraps an arm around you and guides you back to the car.

You lean into him, burying your face into his side a bit. “And my hour-long nap?”

He huffs loudly as he opens the car door. “I GUESS I’LL ALLOW IT. DON’T WANT MY DATEMATE ‘KEELING OVER’ AFTER ALL.”

You let out a small “yay” as he rounds the car and enters the drivers side and starts driving again. The way home is quiet. You’re curled up in your car seat, and while it’s close, you manage to fight off sleep long enough to make it home.

Unbuckling your seatbelt and opening the car door turns out to be easy, but actually leaving the car proves to be too difficult a task in your current state as you stumble out of the car. Papyrus catches you with ease of course, holding one hand in his and using the other to brace against your back so you don’t fall.

“I’m alright. I didn’t break a leg or anything.”

“I’M NOT GOING TO RISK YOU FALLING AND HURTING YOURSELF IF YOUR SO TIRED YOU CAN BARELY STAND.” His words are harsh but laced with concern. Guilt is crawling its way through your bond with him. He knows this isn’t normal. You struggle with self care plenty but he knows that you don’t burn yourself out like this for no reason.

You unlock the door before Papyrus can. His focus is solely on you, helping you take off your shoes and making sure you get to the couch.

“I’m not made of glass hun. I can still function on my own right now. I’m just a little tired.”

“I THINK IT’S MORE THAN THAT. AND I THINK YOU NEED TO EAT SOMETHING BEFORE YOU NAP.”

You go to respond but he’s already darted off before you can stop him. You can hear him fussing with the cupboards, grabbing things to make breakfast.

“I uh… Don’t think I’m up to eating honestly. Nauseous enough that I’m pretty sure it would just come back up.” You call out.

All the noise stops, and for a moment the house is completely silent.

“YOU CAN’T JUST KEEP SKIPPING MEALS LIKE THIS.”

You sigh, unable to stop the bit of shame that wells up. “I know, and I’m not trying to. I’m just too overtired to keep things down right now. Let me get a bit of rest and then I can try and eat something, promise.”

He huffs. He’s been doing that a lot lately. When did he start getting so irritable? “WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO EAT SOME TOAST? WE HAVE GINGER ALE FOR THIS KIND OF THING AS WELL.”

You think for a moment. You really don’t want to eat, but your stomach does ache. You had spent your lunch sleeping so you haven’t eaten anything all night. “All right, I can try some toast.” you concede.

You don’t pay much attention to what Papyrus is doing, instead finding a comfortable position on your back that doesn’t put pressure on any aching joints.

“So, is Sans being my snuggle buddy?” You ask as Papyrus brings a can of ginger ale to you. He doesn’t even let you open it, pulling the tab for you before handing it over. “It’s his day off so chances are we won’t see him till eleven at the earliest and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it that long.”

“I COULD ALWAY HOLD YOU INSTEAD. BE THERE TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T TWIST YOURSELF INTO A PRETZEL IN YOUR SLEEP.”

“You struggle to sit still for too long though. I don’t want to trap you for an hour where you can’t even fidget much without worrying about waking me up.”

Papyrus pauses, avoiding looking at you for a moment. Something passes in his expression, the same expression he always has when he’s mulling over a difficult puzzle or problem and mumbling to himself trying to solve it. You aren’t sure what the problem is. If Papyrus is too fidgety and Sans is already asleep, then what’s wrong with you just sleeping on your own.

You open your mouth to bring that point up but are interrupted by the toaster. Papyrus instantly whisks himself back into the kitchen. It’s less than a minute before he’s back, toast prepared just the way you like it.

“YOU EAT WHILE I ROUSE SANS. I DON’T IMAGINE HE’LL CARE MUCH.”

You eat your toast in peace, barely able to make out the sound of voices. The first few bites are the hardest, but once they pass the nausea fades into pure hunger. You drink to help fill your stomach. You already committed to the nap before anything more. You aren’t keeping yourself up any longer, especially if Sans is getting woken up for this.

You nearly choke on your last bite of toast as Papyrus marches back into the living room with Sans in his hold. He’s completely limp, held straight out by his armpits like Simba. Sans had actually got ready for bed for once, or as much as he ever does. He’s just in a plain white t-shirt and the pair white boxers with cartoon hearts you had gotten him as a gyftmas present. He’s wearing socks as well, but one is practically hanging on for dear life, not even on enough to go past his heel.

“You alive Sans?”

He gives a soft groan in response, clearly not ready to be welcomed into the waking world. Papyrus brings him over, laying him on top of you like a blanket.

“That’s all right. It’s nap time for me anyway so all you gotta do is join me.”

He lets out a large yawn at that, stretching his arms and legs, allowing you to get a rare look at his canines. They’re joints never make an audible sound, but you can feel the small tingly burst of magic in the air as his back shoulder pops. It’s gone in an instant as he relaxes, wrapping his arms around your middle and shifting to get in a comfortable position, head tucked into your neck.

“i’m good with that.” he mumbles, his voice drenched with sleep.

You hadn’t even noticed Payus had left until he was covering the two of you with a blanket and tucking a pillow underneath your head. It’s comfortable and warm. Sans is already dozing off, his snoring soft enough to almost sound like a purr that gently rumbles through his ribcage. You’re ready to finally throw in the towel and get some rest, eyes drifting shut.

You force them open as Papyrus walks away, leaving a weird emotional cocktail in his wake. Sans clearly gets it as well, doing nearly the same thing as you, his head lifted and eyelights focused solely on his brother busying himself in the kitchen. Not only was Sans a monster, always a little more sensitive to souls than you ever would be, but his bond with Papyrus was much stronger and older than yours. He likely is having a much easier time sifting through the weird mix of frustration, guilt, and jealousy than you are.

Beneath all that though, you can feel something else. If it weren’t for your experience with soulbonds with Papyrus, you would have probably confused it with your own emotions. As much as you are worried though, you know the small trickle of anxiety isn’t coming from you, but Sans.

“He okay?” You whisper. It's not like anything you’ve gotten from Papyrus before and you’re not sure the cause. You’ve snuggled plenty of times with Sans without issue. He was always happy when his two favorite people were spending time together.

Sans doesn’t respond, focus still locked on Papyrus. It only makes you worry more. Sans took damn near anything in stride with a calm smile and a joke. Right now though, his face was completely void of emotion, body tense in your arms.

“You okay?” you try. Shifting slightly to both get more comfortable and hoping it’ll jostle him enough to get a response.

“ya. i’m fine.” He looks at you for a moment, and you can feel that undercurrent from his shift. You know you have a thick bags under your eyes and you’re been too tired to properly shower and brush your hair. You feel scraggly and gross, you can only imagine how you look in his eyes.

“i’m sure paps will be fine too,” he says, forcing himself to relax and tuck himself back in. “i’m sure whatever is happening he’s got handled one way or another.”

On the outside he looks calm and relaxed, but the worry never fades from him. It feels like you’re missing something massive but are just too damn blind to see it.

You glance at Papyrus, making eye contact with him for a brief moment before he looks away. Everyone knows something is wrong, everyone can feel it clear as day.

“hey, try not to fret too much right now. nothing we can do about it. Just try and get some sleep.”

Chapter Text

“GAH!”

You’re never been one to yell. You hate being loud, preferring to let Papyrus be loud enough for the two of you. You do have exceptions though, times when you can’t help but yell.

Like when you wake up to the feeling of being rapidly pinned to the ceiling.

“PAPYRUS! Why the FUCK did you do that?!” You’re barely awake to realize what’s going on, but you’re awake enough to feel anger roll quickly through your veins. It’s enough to keep you alert, ready to snap at the source of your frustration as you uselessly push against the ceiling.

Papyrus at least has the decency to look guilty, slowly lowering you back to the couch. “You Weren’t Waking Up. No Matter What I Tried You Weren’t Responding. I Had To Do Something.”

You open your mouth, ready to say something but stop. You rarely hear Papyrus' voice so small. He’s hunched slightly as he fidgets with his hands. Guilt and fear radiates off of him in waves. You don’t like this.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before you speak again. You’re shaking, the adrenaline from such a wake up call and bang of anger lingering.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” You say through another deep breath. You can feel your body cooling as you calm, leaving you feeling cold. You look around the room to reorient yourself properly. Sans is standing off to the side, eyelights pin pricks and his usual smile flat. You really scared them huh?

“Why did you pin me to the ceiling? I’m trying to understand what happened.” You need to be calm, you need to be clear in your communication.

“The Hour Was Up. I Tried Talking. I Removed Sans. I Shook You! Nothing Worked. I Lifted Your Arm And You Were Completely Limp!” He’s pulling at his fingers still, but his posture is much straighter now that you aren’t visibly fuming. “Sans Even Tried But He Couldn’t Rouse You Either. He Checked And Your HP Was Lower Than Normal. I Thought Surely You Couldn’t Sleep Through Me Hoisting You Into The Air!”

You take another breath, slowly piecing things together. Monsters dusted when they died but humans go limp. Maybe he thought you were dying in your sleep? He was worried about you and you yelled at him for it.

“I thought you could only check in an encounter? Did I sleep through an entire encounter?” You were still missing something. You couldn’t miss it. You can’t just jump to conclusions and yell when you’re upset. You can’t be that kind of person.

“for most monsters, ya. i’m a little different though. get a lot more information out of it too.” Sans pipes in, demeanor relaxed now.

You sit straight on the couch, doing your best to lower your shoulders to try and force yourself to look relaxed. “Then… By low do you mean my max was low or… ?”
Alphy’s gave you a run down of monster stats and souls once. HP stood for HoPe. With hope being one of the major elements of a monster’s soul, if their HP reached zero, they couldn’t produce any more determination. They’d fall comatose, their body slowly using up what little was left before turning to dust. Had Papyrus thought you fell down?

“max was fine. just took some damage at some point. you fall at work or something?”

“Not that I can remember. How long does it take for HP to heal?” They’re both staring out at you, worried. How could you be so mean?

“IT'S UNCOMMON BUT STRESS CAN AFFECT YOUR HP AS WELL. WITH HOW LITTLE YOU’VE BEEN EATING AND SLEEPING YOUR SOUL WAS LIKELY AS STRAINED AS YOUR BODY WHEN YOU GOT OFF WORK.” Papyrus explains, “BUT WHY WEREN’T YOU WAKING UP?”

Your rude awakening plays again in your head, now with the added context of what happened before. Papyrus trying to wake you, gentle at first to frantic. Panicking and unsure of what to do and what is even happening. Doing something extreme to make sure you were okay only to get screamed at for the trouble.

You had screamed too, not just yelled. Your throat hurts, scratchy as it always is when you get that loud. You learned how to project from your chest in highschool for presentations and still did around the warehouse so you could be heard. You hadn’t done that though, you had screamed from your throat, at an already shaken Papyrus.

“I…” You feel your stomach role with guilt, having to swallow to avoid gagging. “When I get super stressed or sick-”

*

You can’t stop it, you gag. You hunch over, trying to cover your mouth to stop the sound. You can’t do this right now. You have to be okay to have this conversation. You can’t just-

Another gag rips its way through your body and you’re already rushing to the bathroom. Your saliva is thin and hot in your mouth. You can’t stop it. You’re on the floor, head over the toilet, familiar enough to know there wasn’t any point fighting it now. Your stomach is emptied. What little scraps of toast and soda you had before your nap reappearing to mock you. Despite having nothing left in your stomach, you can’t stop. You can only lean to the side as you dry heave. It’s hard to breathe.

*

You glance at the bathroom door as Papyrus enters. He’s quick to kneel down beside you. His hands rub up and down your back, green magic flowing from his fingertips to try and soothe the best he can.

Guilt gnaws through everything as you slump against Papyrus. You’re panting, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m alright.” You try to reassure him, but your voice comes out hollow and scratchy. “This usually happens when I get stressed. Give me a minute and I’ll be fine.”

“I THINK THIS IS MORE THAN STRESS.” Papyrus is holding you tight to him, you can see Sans in the doorway, worrying the fabric of his shirt and unsure how to help.

“No it’s not,” you push, “When I get stressed out, especially if I’m not sleeping, I get super nauseous. I just sleep harder when I’m that exhausted.” Your stomach certainly feels a lot better, and while your body is still sore your migraine is nothing but a dull ache now. Much more manageable than before.

As you slowly wind down a chill runs over your skin. Goosebumps rise across your arms and legs. A shiver running up your spine. It’s probably because you’re on the bathroom floor, but you suddenly feel cold all over.

“YOU’RE GETTING CHILLS! YOU’RE SICK. YOU’RE GETTING BACK ON THAT COUCH SO I CAN TAKE CARE OF YOU!”

You want to argue, to fight Papyrus that you just get cold sometimes, especially after having emptied your stomach. That you’ve experienced this exact thing more times than you can count and it’s nothing you can’t handle. You can’t bring yourself to do it though. You’ve already caused him so much grief and you still feel exhausted.

“I’M SORRY.” Papyrus says as he picks you up. “I HAVEN’T BEEN THE GREATEST DATE MATE LATELY. I… I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT SOMETHING LIKE THIS COULD HAPPEN.”

“Papyrus…” you almost reassure him, saying that he didn’t do anything wrong and there was nothing he could have done, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Saying he didn’t do anything wrong wouldn’t just be saying you forgave him, but that all the stress he caused was okay. You want to move past it, pretend it never happened but… You can’t do that yet.

“I’ll be okay. I bounce back fast,” You say instead. “Plus, without my job now, I’ll have plenty of time to recover.”

“you quit your job?” Sans pipes up, following you two back to the living room.

“Ya, not really worth this kind of headache you know? Good thing too, don’t think I could have made it through another day.” You can only imagine frantically clawing to try and get out of a harness, desperately trying to unclip yourself from a machine so you could run across the warehouse for the bathroom. Bullet dodged.

“When I’m feeling a bit better I’m planning on hunting for another job.” Papyrus is actively swaddling you in a blanket, giving you a good view of his expression turning sour.

“YOU’RE ALREADY THINKING OF MORE WORK?” It almost sounds like he’s scolding you. It looks like it too, his hand on his hips as he stares down in disbelief.

“What? You want me to laze about? I thought Sans was rubbing off on me too much?” You tease.

“THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID! I THINK YOU SHOULD FOCUS ON RESTING BEFORE RUSHING OFF TO WORK YOURSELF TO DEATH AGAIN.”

You think for a moment. You know that’s not what causes this. He had to know it wasn’t work alone. You really hope he does. You don’t feel like bringing that up and risking a whole fight. You just want to go back to bed.

“So… Does that mean I get to nap more? You’re mostly supposed to sleep it off if you're sick.” You smile a little, hoping you might be able to use his insistence against him.

Papyrus’ eyes narrow, “I SUPPOSE IF IT’S FOR RECOVERY I’LL ALLOW IT.”

You give a tired “Yay” in response. Twice in one day you get Papyrus to agree to nap time. You should get lottery tickets at this rate.

“Okay then. Sansy, come back here. You’re back on snuggle buddy duty,” You make grabby hands for him. You know full well he would find some excuse to brush you off if he didn’t want to. You’d let him of course, not wanting to pressure him into forced affection. Thankfully, Sans doesn’t seem against it at all, giving a small laugh at your antics. He goes to take a step forward, before being snatched up by his brother.

“UNFORTUNATELY, I CANNOT ALLOW ANY MORE SLACKING OFF FROM MY BROTHER AS I NEED HIM TO HELP WITH A GROCERY TRIP!” Papyrus exclaims before leaping into the kitchen.

There’s chatter for a moment, spoken in hushed enough voices you can’t understand it, then silence. You don’t understand why now was the time to do groceries, especially since Papyrus just said he was going to take care of you. Taking a moment to untangle yourself, you stand and make your way to the kitchen to investigate.

A lone sock sits in the middle of the kitchen. You can’t help but imagine Sans walking around the store in boxers, sock on one foot with the other bare to clack against the laminate. You have no clue what Papyrus has planned, but they are not shopping.

Other than the sock you notice breakfast had been made. Of course it had, for when you were supposed to wake up. It was oatmeal, the ones with dinosaur eggs that Papyrus liked so much. He typically only ate it when he was feeling down and needed to be cheered up. Once he found out you ate it all the time as a kid he was happy to share. The nostalgia of it had a firm hold on you.

As odd as things have been, he’s still your Papyrus doing everything he can to make everyone happy.

Unfortunately it’s all cold now, having been left to sit for who knows how long. Still, your stomach rumbles and as much as you dislike the texture, you aren’t one to let food go to waste.

It takes you a while to force it down. The taste is perfectly fine, a comforting brown sugar flavor even when cold, but it’s difficult to get past the feeling of congealed oats. Yet, with how long it had taken, neither skeleton had returned. The clock on the wall reads about nine-thirty.

There’s nothing you can do about it. You could try to call or text to figure it out, but both of them could dance around questions like ballet dancers on a stage. If they didn’t want to share, you wouldn’t be getting anything out of them.

So, instead of worrying about it, you set your empty bowl on the table and wrap yourself back up in the blankets. The silence makes it difficult, but eventually sleep finds you.

---

You wake up much nicer this time. You’re propped up slightly, laying on your back between a set boney arms and legs. There’s a weight on your stomach, with the occasional sound of typing. A very familiar skull is resting on your head, taking a moment to nuzzle into your hair before typing away again.

“Afternoon, Sweet Tart.” Papyrus murmurs.

“How’d you know I was awake?” You grumble, opening your eyes.

He moves to press his teeth against your neck, “You Always Twitch When You’re Falling In And Out Of Sleep.” There’s something in his tone you haven’t heard before. A layer of fondness that seems sharper than normal.

“What, you watch me sleep often?” You joke.

“You Always Fall Asleep First.”

You aren’t sure how to respond. Instead you wiggle and squirm, trying to free your arms. He only tuts at this.

“Nope. You’re Going To Stay Trapped. Don’t Need My Little Date Mate Making Themself Sicker Because They’re Too Stubborn To Rest.”

“But I was resting. I’ve been sleeping for like…” you check the clock, “Seven hours! I just want to stretch a little.”

“Then Stretch In Your Cocoon.” He says with a nuzzle before returning to his work. It’s been almost five years since monsters arrived on the surface and over time small celebrations have developed for each changing of the season. You can vaguely remember there being talk of the spring festival being held. Considering the small bits of text you skim talk about flowers blooming you guess Papyrus was going to do a speech at the start of the festival. Important work for the ambassador of monsters.

“Can I at least have something to do? I’m already bored.”

He leans back, giving you the chance to properly look at him. His smile is warm and full of mirth, “What, Is Showering Your Incredible Date Mate Not Enough?”

You laugh at the audacity, “How am I supposed to do that if I can hardly move, Bone Boy?”

You roll, making his computer shift with you. He catches it with ease of course, setting it closed on the coffee table to focus on you.

“You Certainly Seem To Be Feeling Better,” He muses as you finally free your arms, using them to pull yourself over him.

“I told you I would be fine.” You press a kiss to his mouth before he can respond and he melts into it. When you try to pull away he only tugs you back, a hand gently pressing on the back of your head to keep you in place. You don’t mind it, you missed being able to be affectionate with him without some argument hanging over your head.

Considering when you do pull back Papyrus has hearts in his eye sockets you can’t be the only one.

“Stop looking at me with those big ol’ eyes,” You tease with a laugh. You knew he could form eyelights if he wanted too. You didn’t know they could be different shapes.

“Hmm?”

“Your eyelights? Did you not even realize?”

Surprise blooms across his face before he looks away, quickly blinking to erase any trace of eyelights. A peach blush spreads across his face. “I Must Have Gotten Lost In The Moment.”

“Aw hun… You look so cute. All star struck. Heart struck?”

“Don’t Call It That,” he groans. You giggle at him, peppering kisses on the side of his face.

“What, are you embarrassed?”

He scoffs, leaning in to rest his forehead on yours, “I Could Never Be Embarrassed About Loving You.”

And now you're the one feeling heart struck.

“You are so sappy. Going to make me all sticky at this rate.”

His grin turns down right devilish, “ You Know I Always Clean Up The Mess I Make.”

You pull back from him, flustered more than you’d admit, “Dirty skeleton!” you say, slapping him lightly on the chest. “Gross!”

He laughs, warm and full. You can’t help but laugh with him. “I'm Far From The Dirty One Here. You’re The One Who Went There.”

“Whatever.” You say, flopping back against him. You’re back to being wrapped in his arms but you’re far from complaining. With some rest you feel like an actual person with enough energy to have such soft moments.

You are pretty hungry though. You’ve barely eaten a thing.

“What are you thinking about for dinner? It’s about time now, isn’t it?”

He taps a finger on his chin, mock thinking for a moment. “I Could Have You, Couldn’t I? You’re Certainly Sweet Enough.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I mean actual food you goof. I’m hungry. Cold oatmeal ain’t gonna cut it.”

“I Still Can’t Believe You Ate That.”

“I was hungry and didn’t feel like making food! Now, help me figure something for dinner or I’m turning you into bone broth!”

He laughs at you again, but you can’t even hide the smile on your face to pretend to be grumpy about it.

“All Right, All Right. Let Me Up And I’ll Get You Dinner.”

You shift off him the best you can with your lower half still cocooned. It’s still enough to let him slip away. You finish shimmying yourself out of the blanket, expecting him to be a while making dinner. Of course, once you’re settled in to scroll on your phone he returns with food.

“That was fast.”

“I ALREADY MADE DINNER. GAZPACHO SOUP. IT’S ALREADY SERVED COLD SO IT WOULD BE READY WHEN YOU WOKE UP. NO NEED TO REHEAT IT.”

“You’re so smart.”

“I KNOW.” He beams, setting a tray on your lap.

“So, how did your ‘grocery trip’ go?” You ask, taking a bite as he sits down.

“CONSIDERING YOU’RE EATING THE FRUITS OF OUR LABOR, I’D SAY VERY GOOD!”

“Even with Sans in his boxers?” You prod.

Papyrus squints his eyes, pointedly avoiding your gaze “YES.”

You look at him for a moment, obviously suspicious.

“WHAT IF I TOOK YOU TO THE MALL?”

You blink at the sudden redirect. “What? Why?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE FINALLY FREE DURING THE HOURS IT’S OPEN,” he explains, “IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE YOU COULD GO OUT FOR A WHOLE DAY WITHOUT WORRYING ABOUT YOUR SCHEDULE.”

“I… Ya, it has. That sounds really nice. When are you wanting to go?”

“TOMORROW OF COURSE.”

“I slept for most of the day. I’m probably going to be up all night. Might not be a good idea for me to immediately jump to staying up for twenty-four hours.”

His disappointment is palpable, but he relents. “HOW ABOUT TUESDAY THEN? THAT WOULD GIVE YOU THREE DAYS TO ADJUST.”

You nod, “And it’ll be in the middle of a school day so it won’t be as busy. I’m good with that.”

“THEN IT’S A DATE!”

Chapter Text

You had fully expected to be awake all night. Of course as the midnight hours started to crawl by, Papyrus insisted you at least try to sleep a little bit more. Much to your surprise, and his delight, you managed to nod off again around one in the morning.

You woke up some time past eight to an otherwise empty bed. It’s not unusual, Papyrus was always one to wake up way too early. He always insisted that he was a morning person despite waking up to his alarm each morning with the most miserable sounding groans you have ever heard.

After slipping into some casual clothes you make your way downstairs, surprised to see the living room a mess of cloth and sewing supplies. Papyrus stands in the middle of the room, back to you as he gazes into a full length mirror. He’s got a yard of cloth draped over each shoulder, one pastel pink the other baby blue. He’s otherwise just in his boxers, giving you ample view of his bare back and legs.

“What’s all this for?”

Papyrus jumps at your words, to engrossed in whatever thoughts he was having to hear your approach. He turns, and you can feel your heart melt a little as his whole face lights up.

“SWEET TART! YOU’RE FINALLY AWAKE!” He bounds over you, navigating the mess on the floor with ease so he can scoop you up in an ecstatic hug that easily turns into a twirl. “I WAS SO WORRIED YOU WOULD BE SLEEPING ALL DAY AGAIN! I’VE ALREADY MISSED YOUR ADORABLE FACE YESTERDAY!”

“Didn’t you snuggle me for hours on end? You got to see me plenty,” you tease.

“OH, BUT I LOVE SEEING YOU WALKING AND TALKING. MAKING ALL THE CUTE LITTLE EXPRESSIONS AND SAYING ALL THE SWEET THINGS YOU DO.” You can’t help but smile as he nuzzles into the side of your face. Delight and excitement radiate off him like sunshine, warming you up from the inside out. If he was any more like a golden retriever, you know his tail bone would be wagging.

“Okay, okay. I love you too, you softie. Now, what’s with the cotton candy colors you’ve got draped over your shoulders?”

He groans, dramatically throwing his head back with the noise, “I WAS WONDERING WHY IT LOOKS SO FAMILIAR! I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT YOUR FLOSSED FAIRIES.”

He knows that’s not what it’s called so you don’t bother correcting him, instead rubbing the cloth between your fingertips. You are no expert when it comes to fabrics, so you can’t label what it is exactly. Soft yet stiff beneath your fingertips. Solid flannel maybe?

“What’s wrong with that? It’s a cute combo. I’m sure it’d look good in whatever you’re making.” You muse.

“I’M NOT GOING FOR CUTE CARNIVAL STAND ATTENDANT!” He says indignantly, setting you down on the couch so he can switch out the colors.

You sprawl, propping your head on your palm as you watch him sift through all the other samples he has laid out.“Then what’s your aim? And what’s the occasion?”

“WELL, FOR OUR FIRST DATE NOW THAT YOU DON’T HAVE THAT SHITTY JOB ANYMORE, I THOUGHT I SHOULD MAKE IT SPECIAL!”

“It’ll already be special, you’ll be there.” The comment towards your work still needles at your brain a little, but you’d rather eat hot tar than risk commenting on it.

He pauses, gazing at you fondly a moment before continuing, “I SHALL DRESS AS THE LOCAL HEAT THROB I AM. EVERYONE WILL FALL FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS ONLY TO BE TRAGICALLY HEARTBROKEN TO FIND I AM TAKEN BY THE ONLY PERSON WHO COULD EVER MEET MY IMPOSSIBLY HIGH STANDARDS!”

“And who would that be?” You ask, smirking.

Papyrus gasps as if the question was of great offence, turning to you with his hands on his hip with a mock scolding expression, “YOU, OBVIOUSLY. DO YOU SEE ANY OTHER INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE HUMANS WALKING AROUND RIGHT NOW?”

You can only grin, the compliment one you’ve heard many a time but still giving you a little ego boost.

“NOW, STOP BEING SILLY AND HELP ME FIGURE OUT AN ACCENT COLOR. PINK WILL BE PERFECT TO SHOW THAT I AM PLAYFUL YET TENDER, BUT WHAT ELSE?”

You hum, thinking, “White goes with everything, doesn’t it?”

He picks up a yard of white, holding them out in front of his chest in the mirror. You’re more than happy to take the chance to ogle your handsome boyfriend as he goes on about how incredible and brilliant your suggestion was. You never thought you’d be attracted to bone, yet as you admire his broad shoulders and ribs you can’t deny you are. He may not have an ass, but seeing his boxers hang loose enough to reveal the top of his hip bones certainly made up for it.

Of course, now that you’ve been up for a while you can feel the start of what will no doubt turn to gnawing hunger within the hour. You hadn’t eaten much yesterday and everything had been light so you could keep it down.

“How do you feel about me making breakfast burritos?”

“OH, YOU DON’T HAVE TO COOK, I CAN MAKE YOU SOMETHING.”

He’s already untangling the cloth mock up but you jump from the couch, pulling him down by the collar bone to stop him.

“Nope! I want to make something tasty for me and my favorite boyfriend of all time. You keep doing what you’re doing.” You say, planting a kiss on his forehead.

You move to make way to the kitchen only for him to let out a needy whine, pulling your hand to his chest. Giggling, you take a step back towards him.

“Oh, poor Papyrus. Mr. Pitiful over here, so needy today. Just misses me too much to let me leave the room.”

He huffs, but doesn’t deny it as he pulls you against him.

“I’ve missed you too hun,” you say, kissing him softly. It’s not wholly a lie, but not wholly the truth either. You feel a million times better now that you’re rested, but a part of you already dreads the change in routine. Things had been comfortable the way they were, even if they caused scheduling challenges. It only grew unbearable recently, and there’s still a small part that cringes whenever you think about it.

Pushing that twinge of discomfort aside, you focus on gently pushing Papyrus off of you. He grumples, but concedes when you insist that you’re hungry. All of that unpleasantness was in the past now. No more posturing Papyrus and no more angry outburst from you. Hopefully no more emotional aftershocks left to grit your teeth through. Just a nice care free couple days and then a fun date with Papyrus to the mall.

You take your sweet time cooking, enjoying the process itself plenty and letting the scent of sausage and the sound of sizzling wake your stomach up. You even go the extra mile and warm the tortillas in the microwave.

With two plates in hand you return to the living room. Papyrus is quick to hide a sketch book from your sight, making you snicker. While you’ve been able to get a sneak peek of the colors of his new outfit, it appears the actual design is going to be a surprise.

“Is Sans working today?” You ask, unable to remember his odd hit or miss schedule. “Don’t want him left out of breakfast if he’s still snoozing.”

“OH, DON’T WORRY ABOUT HIM. HE’S GOING TO BE RATHER BUSY THE NEXT FEW DAYS.” Papyrus waves off as he starts shifting things around for you to be able to eat without ruining his work.

“Busy? With what?”

“HE GOT A GIG OUT OF TOWN. TURNS OUT, OVER A THOUSAND PEOPLE WANT TO PAY ACTUAL MONEY JUST TO HEAR THE LAZIEST COMEDY ROUTINE KNOWN TO BOTH MAN AND MONSTER.” Papyrus says casually, as if he was just talking about the weather.

“A thousand?! When did this start up? No way something like this was just sprung on him.”

Sans didn’t do the comedy routines often, but a monster doing the occasional show was enough to gather a small but loyal following. It was a side gig, but he really did love making people laugh. Usually you’d hear something about it though, especially for his biggest gig yet.

“HE DIDN’T TELL YOU? OF COURSE HE COULDN’T BE BOTHERED TO SPREAD THE WORD PROPERLY.”

You know that’s not right. Even if Sans hadn’t said anything, Papyrus would have been ranting and raving about his brother being popular enough to draw in so many people.

“So how long has he been forgetting to share the news?” You prod.

“OH IT’S… BEEN IN THE WORKS A WHILE. NOT ENTIRELY SURE HOW LONG. I’M SURE HE’LL HAVE PLENTY TO SAY ABOUT IT WHEN HE GETS BACK.” Papyrus says dismissively as he eats.

And then he pauses, looking at you with the smallest tilt of his head.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT, TREAT? YOU’VE HARDLY TOUCHED YOUR FOOD.”

“Ya, ya. Sorry, just zoning out a little.” You don’t bother coming up with a better excuse than that. You know Papyrus can sense your unease bleeding through to him. Some lingering feeling that something is off, maybe even some worry about Sans.

You take your phone out, shooting Sans a quick good morning text with a small message asking how wherever he’s staying is. He’s apparently going to be ‘out of town’ for a few days. It only makes you wonder just how far out he really is.

Despite him not having eyelights, you know Papyrus was looking at you from the corner of his sockets when you put your phone face down on the table. He doesn’t say anything about it, and neither do you.

“CAN I MEASURE YOU?” He says instead, swiftly moving on when there’s something he doesn’t want to talk about, like he always does.

“What for?” You let him, finally continuing to eat as you finish speaking.

“IF I’M GOING TO BE DRESSED TO IMPRESS, IT’S ONLY NATURAL FOR US TO TO MATCH. TO BE THE BEST POWER COUPLE THE MALL HAS EVER SEEN!”

“Sure, hun. You can measure me once we finish eating.”