Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alphys needed to get a bigger couch.  Or a guest room, or, or something.  Or maybe she just needed to learn how to make her doors phase-proof.  (She was sure she’d made the electronic lock impossible to hack, so Mettaton must have retained some of his ghost abilities, no matter how much he played ignorant.) 

Anyway.  It wasn’t like she minded her friends crashing in her living room.  But the small skeleton monster flopped on Mettaton’s chest was definitely not one she’d seen before.  

And, well, there were only so many possibilities for where an unfamiliar skeleton child could’ve come from.  The thought was both incredibly awkward, and sort of validating?  She’d written plenty of Papyton fanfiction, but she’d never imagined that the two of them would… well!  

“M-Mettaton?”  She shook one of his shoulder plates before remembering that she’d have to unplug his charging cable.  

He bolted upright when she did so.  

“Alphys?” He rubbed his eyes and stretched luxuriously, not acknowledging the child lying on him at all.  “What is it, darling? You know how I feel about my charging cycle being interrupted.”

“Um.  W-well, I was just coming downstairs for some two AM ramen—th-that’s not important, though—anyway! I just?  Wondered if you knew, um, that there’s a kid on you?”

Mettaton looked down at his lap, where the tiny skeleton had slid down without waking.  He didn’t look surprised, though he did suddenly appear uncomfortable.

“Well.  Welly well well.”  He cleared his throat.  “Can’t this wait until morning?”

“N-not if you’re going to keep living on my couch!” She had to put her foot down somewhere!  “I don’t have anything ch-childproofed!  What if they get into my lab and hurt themself?  Besides, shouldn’t you be sleeping with Papyrus if you…”

Her face heated.  Mettaton looked confused for a moment before her words sunk in.

“Oh.  You.  Ha ha.  Alphys, darling, you have the wrong idea.”  He forced a grin.

“Then surely you can explain why you’re sleeping with a skeleton child that clearly feels comfortable with you?”

The child let out a soft snore.  Alphys couldn’t tell how old they were—they didn’t look like a baby, but then again, she was no expert on the skeleton life cycle.  Especially if one of the parents happened to be a ghost-slash-robot.  They were wearing an MTT-Brand striped sweater, at least, so they definitely weren’t just a small skeleton like Sans.

Oh my gosh.  SANS.  Alphys’s eyes went wide.

“If Papyrus isn’t the other father, th-then is it—?”

A look of horror crossed Mettaton’s face.

“It’s not Sans.  Ew.”

“Oh thank goodness.” She let out a sigh of relief.  Besides, she was pretty sure Sans had a thing for Toriel.

“This whole situation is… complicated, darling.” Mettaton looked away.  “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.  I didn’t know that they would be staying with me, or I would have booked a room at the resort.”

Alphys never understood why Mettaton didn’t stay at his resort anyway.  But she usually appreciated the company, so she never asked.  She liked to think that maybe he just liked to hang out with her, like they used to back when they were both just giant losers.

“Okay,” she relented.  “I know more than anyone about secrets.  I won’t force you to talk about it if you’re not ready.”  

She stared down at the little skeleton, who was still sleeping peacefully.  They certainly didn’t share Papyrus’s insomnia—assuming he really was the other father.  Alphys still couldn’t think of any other sensible explanation.

Mettaton gratefully took her hand and kissed the top of her knuckles.

“You’re the best of the best, Alphys.” 

She was supposed to add a but afterwards, but Mettaton still looked exhausted.  She’d get better answers out of him in the morning.

Failing that, she could always talk to the little skeleton themself.

“Yeah, yeah, save the flattery for your fans.  Or your boyfriend.”

She couldn’t help smirking when he blushed.

“Ha ha… yes. Of course.”

She picked up his charging cord, but before plugging it in, she looked back over her shoulder.

“Um, I forgot to ask,” she said. “What’s their name?”

“Their—their name?”  Mettaton’s eyes were as blank as a crashing copy of Windows Vista.

“They do have a name, right?” Her brow furrowed.  “Skeletons are named after their fonts, aren’t they?”

“Yes! Um, typically.  You see, my… child… is not an ordinary skeleton, in the traditional sense…”

Alphys closed her eyes and waved a hand.  “Okay, okay.  I don’t need to know how they were created, thanks.”

Mettaton chuckled.  “Please, darling.  I wouldn’t share anything vulgar.  I was just going to say that as they have Blook heritage, they will get to choose their own name, when they are ready.  Which they most definitely are not.  So please do not ask them or anyone else about it.”

“R-right.”  Ghosts could be touchy about names; she should have seen that coming.  At least she now knew for sure that the skeleton child was his.  “Well, um, goodnight then?  And? Let me know if they need anything??”

“Of course, beautiful.  Thank you.” 

The statement was less flowery than usual, but she could feel the weight behind it.  She smiled back and plugged in his cable.

As he powered down, she went back upstairs to her room.  Who needed ramen when she had a new Papyton fanfic to draft?

Chapter Text

Chara woke up to the smell of burning spaghetti.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not telling them I’m Chara.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Especially Papyrus,” Chara said with a snicker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Text

Mettaton adjusted his yellow tie with one hand, his other holding the glittering bouquet of spaghetti. With Stabstablook’s help, he’d managed to weave the noodles into flower-like shapes before dousing them in pink sauce.  Papyrus couldn’t possibly refuse such a perfect gift.  

He wasn’t hesitating.  He was just… making sure everything was perfect.  His tie was straight, his spaghetti was sparkling, and his hair was oiled.  When he caught his reflection in the door’s window, his grin was flawless.

He had nothing to worry about.  Alphys believed in him.  Stabstablook believed in him.  And of course, he believed in his own fabulousness, too.

His knuckles had barely touched the door when it flung open.

“Oh!” Papyrus jumped back before he could crash into Mettaton.  He blinked, looked back towards the house, and then blinked again.  “Mettaton!  Am I part of today’s news?  I would have worn my battle body if I’d known!”

Currently he was wearing nothing but a red-and-gold bathrobe, loosely fastened around his waist.  Mettaton’s internal fans were deafening.  When was Alphys going to fix that?

“No, you’re perfect, gorgeous!” Mettaton hoped his laugh covered the whirring sound of his machinery.  “Shyren is taking care of the news for me today.  I had, ah, a more engaging engagement to attend to.”

“Engagement?” Papyrus frowned.  “You’re… engaged?”

Mettaton’s grin froze in place.  

“I, ah… of course!  Why wouldn’t a handsome robot like moi be engaged?”

Why was he still talking?  Hadn’t Alphys installed a kill switch somewhere on his body?  He should power down until his brain-to-mouth circuits rebooted.

“Congratulations!”  Papyrus’s grin looked tense, though Mettaton might have been projecting.  “Who is the lucky monster?  Or human!  I didn’t know you were dating anyone, let alone what kind of person they are… but they must be great, if you like them.”

“They are very great,” he said to buy time.  

He could still salvage this.  He was engaged to his fans, to the spotlight, to glamour itself.  With his impeccable command of language, he could spin his words so he didn’t look like an utter fool.

“The lucky monster is you!” he blurted.  (Like an utter fool.)

Papyrus stared.  His jaw hung so slack, Mettaton thought it might fall off.

Well, if no one was going to mercifully close the curtain on him, he’d better finish the show.

“My darling Papyrus,” he knelt on one knee and offered up the bouquet with shaking hands. “Would you do me the incredible honor of being my husband?”

Papyrus blinked.  Mettaton noticed that one bony eyelid closed a nanosecond before the other.

“...What.”  Papyrus’s intonation was so flat, Mettaton barely recognized it.

He cleared his throat, his faux confidence draining by the second.  “I said, would you do me the incredible honor of being my husband?”

“Ah.  Hmm.”  Papyrus squinted and scratched his chin.  “I know I am a dating expert, but even I can’t skip the essential chapters between friendship and fianceship.”  His expression softened into something like pity.  “I’m sorry if my actions have drawn you into a dark web of passion. It isn't your fault, but I cannot accept your proposal.  I hope you will still be satisfied with our friendship!”

Ah.  It turned out Mettaton did have a kill switch.  It just happened to be those few words.

“O-of course.”  Mettaton straightened up.  He felt inside his suit, opened a hatch on his chest, and tucked the spaghetti bouquet away. Thank goodness Stabstablook hadn’t been here to see that pathetic performance.

“I knew you would understand!  You’re such a gentleman!”  Papyrus flashed a relieved grin.  “I'd love to talk more about our not-engagement, but I can't be late for work."

"Work?" Mettaton echoed dumbly. What kind of job had Papyrus leaving the house at three in the afternoon, dressed in a bathrobe?

"At the University!" Papyrus beamed. "In addition to being Ebott University's monster-human liaison, I am now also the campus' top anatomical model!"

He struck a pose with his gloved hands on his hips. 

“Well. They certainly have taste.” Mettaton stared appreciatively.

“They do!”  Papyrus agreed, taking his keys from his bathrobe pocket and spinning them around one finger.  “I bet you would love the students!  The art and design students especially—hey!  I know!  Why don’t you come with me?  I’m sure they’d love to meet you, too!”

“What?”  Mettaton blinked.

“Come to work with me!  It will be fun, and I can make up for rejecting your eloquent proposal!”

Papyrus grabbed his hand before he could say no.  Not that he would have, of course.  

As he took the passenger seat in Papyrus’s red sports car, his fans whirred louder than the revving engine.  The wind in his hair cooled him off, at least.  After a few sharp turns, he finally remembered the underlying point of this endeavor.

Stabstablook.  How was he going to pass them off as his child now?  Papyrus didn’t love him.  He’d never pretend to be the other father, and Alphys would ask questions, and Stabstablook would hate him for failing to protect their secret— 

“Mettaton?”  Papyrus’s voice snapped him out of his spiral.

“Yes, darling?” he answered with dimmed enthusiasm.

Papyrus’s gaze stayed focused on the road.

“Why did you propose to me today?”

Oh.  Well.  Welly well well.

“I mean, I know I am great,” Papyrus went on quickly, “and I certainly consider us friends!  But I never expected your passions to overtake you so… suddenly?”

“Overwhelming passion is a slight flaw of mine,” he admitted, face heating.  Blast it.  Even the crisp air couldn’t keep him cool now.  “In this case, however… there is more to it.”

Being honest with Alphys about this would be terrifying.  If anyone would put together Stabstablook’s past identities, it would be her. Papyrus was clever too, but he didn’t have the same puzzle pieces that she did. If Mettaton told him part of the truth… and if his acting skills didn’t completely fail him this time…

“Would you be willing to endure an explanation? It’s a long story.”

“And it’s a short drive!” Papyrus skirted into a parking spot between a large pickup truck and an even larger SUV.  “However, it is still a long walk from here to the art building!”

Papyrus leapt over his own door, only to sprint around the outside and open Mettaton’s with a flourish.  He fought to keep a ghostly blush from his cheeks.  If he didn’t know better, this would almost feel like a date.

But he did know better.  He could be professional, even when faced with Papyrus’s endearing Papyrus-ness.

“I’m ready!” Papyrus said as they began to climb the hill to the campus.  “How does this story go?”

Mettaton cleared his throat.

“Well.  It started long ago, when I had an… adopted family member, of sorts.”  Yes, that was vague enough.  If Mettaton could omit enough details, he would hardly have to lie.

Not that he couldn’t lie.  He was an actor; lying was his bread and butter! Well, at least his bread.  His legs were his butter.  ...Where had he been going with this, again?

“I didn’t know you had any family,” Papyrus said curiously, while stepping over a loose rock in the path.  This commute didn’t have nearly enough sidewalks; Mettaton was going to chip the coating on his boots.  “Did Alphys build them, too?”

“No, no.  Alphys doesn’t, aha, actually know about them.  Or, she didn’t. Until today.” He sighed.  

The art building was in sight, but Papyrus wasn’t exaggerating the long walk.  It seemed like he intended to take them on a shortcut through the campus’s gardens.

“They have been gone for a long time, and for personal reasons, they would prefer not to be connected with their old identity.”

Papyrus nodded.  “They need a privacy!  I can understand that.  But, er, how is this related to your proposal?”

“I’m getting there, darling.  You see, my c—family member, they are actually… part skeleton.” 

Mettaton bit his lip and looked up at Papyrus, who had stopped in front of a flowerbed of daffodils.  His expression was as blank as a permanently-grinning skull could be.

“What do they look like?”

Mettaton’s brow furrowed.  What an odd first question.

“Um, they are rather small—perhaps your brother’s size? Their skull is a bit rounder, though, and they have quite a bit more fashion sense.”

“Do they have any cracks or scars?”

“Not that I know of.” Mettaton hadn’t had the chance to inspect them properly yet. Last night had been a blur of speeding to the mountain and back; he'd barely learned how Stabstablook had become a skeleton at all. “Are scars and cracks common for skeleton monsters? Should I be worried?”

“No, you would have noticed.” Papyrus’s shoulders slumped a little, but he quickly straightened back to his full height.  “Well!  They sound like quite the handsome monster!  I would love to meet them!”

Mettaton laughed awkwardly.

“Fabulous, because—well—Alphys thinks you’re their father.”

He winced, but Papyrus just laughed.

“She should know better than that!  I would never neglect to have a baby shower to announce my hypothetical child!”

“You’re hilarious, darling, but this is serious.”  Mettaton clutched at his arm desperately for a moment, before trying to look less, well, desperate.  “I can’t tell her—or anyone—the truth.  My family member has strictly forbidden it.  But if I can’t give everyone an explanation…”

“You can’t lose your family.”  Papyrus’s browbone softened in sympathy.  “You know you could have asked for my help without a proposal.  I don’t need to be bribed to help a friend.”

Mettaton blinked, trying not to get lost in Papyrus’s deep eyesockets.

“I thought it would be easier,” he admitted quietly.  “Alphys believes I’m the other father.  Due to some, miscommunications, I doubt she will believe anything else.”

“Well, you are lucky that the Great Papyrus is not just a handsome model!” When he struck a pose this time, the end of his bathrobe billowed dramatically.  “I am also a talented actor!”

“You are?”

“Of course!  I pretend not to understand my brother’s jokes all the time!  He hates it!!!”  Papyrus beamed.  “Pretending to father your mysterious family-member-slash-child will be slightly more challenging, but it’s nothing I can’t handle!”

“Really?”  Mettaton’s mouth formed an o in surprise.  “You’ll do it?  You’ll be my pretend husband?”

“Er, almost!  I can be your pretend bonefriend!”  A bead of sweat glistened on his skull, though it may have just been from the heat as they continued their hike.  “I do not think a secret marriage would inspire confidence in our friends and family.  Not that an out-of-wedlock child is particularly responsible, either, but I will take this hit to my sterling reputation for my dear friend!”

Oh dear.  Now that Papyrus mentioned it, there were sure to be plenty of questions and concerns—from Papyrus’s brother most of all.  But the fact that Papyrus was still willing to try…

“Thank you, darling.” Mettaton hugged Papyrus, his tubelike arms wrapping around the skeleton several times over.  “How can I ever repay you?” 

“Well,” Papyrus checked his phone once Mettaton released him, “you could help me get to work on time?  I would hate to ruin my perfect track record!”

“I think I can arrange that, my darling bonefriend.”  Mettaton winked.  

Despite the jokingly exaggerated tone, a soft blush stained Papyrus’s cheekbones. Mettaton hoped he got to see that again throughout this endeavor they’d landed themselves in.

In the meantime, though, Mettaton scooped Papyrus in his arms and took off through the garden, heedless to the chips and dents his boots accumulated.

Chapter Text

“Now, darling, if Alphys is home, just let me take the lead,” Mettaton said while approaching Alphys’s doorstep. “The babybones will follow along. They want to pull this show off, too.”

Papyrus nodded.  They’d already practiced their lovebird act on the art students, and it had gone over fantastically.  Mettaton had even swooned when Papyrus took off his bathrobe.  If Mettaton could pull off such realistic fainting, Papyrus trusted him to sell their relationship to Alphys.

And if he couldn’t, pretending to blow a fuse would probably let him dodge questions just as effectively.

“And, ah, the babybones can be—well, they’re wonderful, don’t get me wrong! But, they, ah…”

“Don’t worry, Mettaton!  The Great Papyrus is excellent with children of all ages, shapes, and consistencies!”

“Con—?” Mettaton blinked, then waved his hands nervously.  “They’re fully corporeal!  Just like any normal skeleton!”

“Bone consistency.” Papyrus nodded in understanding. “Just one of my many areas of expertise.”

Mettaton’s brow furrowed.

“Have you, actually, met a skeleton child before? Ever?”

“Of course!  I was one!” Papyrus beamed, but Mettaton didn’t seem reassured by the joke.

Papyrus wouldn’t break Mettaton’s heart with the truth: that his brother and father were the only other skeletons he’d ever known. All of the others had turned to dust long before he was born. It wasn’t like the Underground had an abundance of human remains to reanimate.

So how had a skeleton child appeared, unrelated to him or Sans…?

No, Papyrus couldn’t dwell on that.  It would be horribly rude to interrogate the monster who was to be his pretend-child!  Especially when Mettaton said they were so sensitive about their past!

After all, Papyrus knew a thing or two about starting over from scratch.

Mettaton fiddled with the electronic lock for a moment, and then Alphys’s sliding doors opened.

“—and Kaira should have stayed dead, obviously.” The tiny skeleton rolled their eyelights.  They were sitting upside-down on Alphys’s couch, their legs kicking up and down rhythmically.  

Papyrus couldn't pick out their font. It seemed to shift with each letter, like he remembered his and Sans's doing as babybones. Exactly how young was Mettaton's mysterious family member?

“W-what? Did you forget the entire point of the show??” Alphys burst while waving the TV remote around haphazardly. The cartoon started and paused again as she accidentally pressed buttons. “Mew Mew and Rikki and Kaira are supposed to be together forever!  They have an unbreakable bond!!”

“What, ‘cause she kissed both of them? How do you know they didn’t just like her because they had to?”

“B-because that’s the whole theme of the show, choosing to love and forgive even when someone doesn’t deserve it! If you kill off Kaira and let Mew Mew and Rikki just stay together—”

“Who said anything about them staying together? They were terrible for each other.  Mew Mew was better off on her own.”

Alphys screeched. In the distance, a neighbor’s dog started barking.

“You understand now, darling?” Mettaton asked through a strained grin.

Papyrus hardly thought that arguing over Mew Mew’s love life made the babybones a problem child. Though he was curious how they knew Mew Mew. Had the skeleton child been hanging out under Papyrus’s tall sink, too?

His eyesockets widened at the thought.  What if Papyrus was their father, somehow? He had no idea how many human skeletons might be buried here on the surface. If his perfect control of his magic had slipped for even a moment…

“Oh, hey Dad.” The skeleton grinned at Mettaton, still upside-down.  “How’d your proposal go?”

Alphys dropped the remote with another screech.  Papyrus’s lack of ears were ringing.

“Y-you—!?”

“Sh-sh-shhhh!” Mettaton’s slinky-like arms shot out to cover her mouth.  “You’re going to blow my auditory processors if you shout again.”

Alphys pried his hands away.  

“You proposed?”  Her voice was thankfully a few decibels quieter this time.

Mettaton shot the tiny skeleton a glare.  They just winked at him.

Papyrus’s own eyes narrowed.  Had Sans accidentally created a child?

“I just thought the babybones should be living in a stable home!” Mettaton said, retracting his arms and wrapping one around Papyrus. “Not that we aren’t capable of maintaining a loving and responsible relationship without marriage—”

“You proposed and you didn’t even tell me!” Alphys stomped up and shook Mettaton by the shoulders, which was pretty impressive, considering she was only half his height. He didn’t let go of Papyrus, so his rattling bones joined the cacophony of Alphys’s shouts.

“You have an affair and father a secret child, fine! I’m sure you have your reasons! But you can’t just not tell your best friend when you’re proposing!! How am I supposed to get it on video?? Your ocular cameras aren’t backed up to the Cloud, you know!  If you blow a fuse when Papyrus says yes, I can’t get that data back!!!”

Mettaton straightened up to his full height. 

“Alphys.” 

She dangled from his sharp shoulder pads for a few seconds, before dropping the three feet to the floor.  An embarrassed blush colored her cheeks, though she didn’t look as uncomfortable as Mettaton.

“Papyrus didn’t say yes.” The robot kept his voice neutral, but Papyrus could still feel his arm tense up.

Alphys gaped at Papyrus.

“You… but, you’re…”

Papyrus had thought he was ready to act. He didn’t realize how much harder it would feel with the weight of Mettaton’s (feigned) and Alphys’s (genuine) heartbreak.

Well. He’d already thought he broke Mettaton’s heart once today. He could do it again.

“I love Mettaton, truly.” Papyrus’s voice was soft as the blush on his cheeks. Hopefully Alphys wouldn’t be able to tell if it was from infatuation or nervousness.  “And I love our child! Who I definitely knew about prior to today! I simply…”

Papyrus tried not to be distracted by Mettaton’s wide-eyed panic.  Mettaton had asked him to play this role, so he trusted him, obviously!  Papyrus was supposed to follow his lead, but Mettaton wasn’t particularly giving him much to go off of.

He could do this. He could do this.

For his wonderful friend Mettaton. For the skeleton who had no one else to care for them.

“I simply… wanted to wait!” Papyrus forced a grin. “Like you said, Doctor Alphys, an excellent proposal should be recorded, shouldn’t it? Mettaton was simply overcome with emotion today. It happens when you are a faced with a particularly handsome skeleton!”

Mettaton smiled and nodded quickly.

“Exactly! That. I’m sorry, Alphys, I wasn’t thinking. But I will be sure to tell you next time.”

Alphys took a deep breath and let it out while smoothing her rumpled t-shirt.

“Well. Good. And… congrats? On being not-engaged?? I guess???”

“Thank you, Doctor!” Papyrus’s grin relaxed a little.  That had actually worked!!

“P-please, Papyrus, just Alphys is fine.” She grinned back and held out her hand, as if she was meeting him for the first time.

Papyrus shook it firmly.  Maybe this wasn’t their first meeting, but it was the first time with Papyrus as Mettaton’s bonefriend! Alphys was practically Mettaton’s family, so Papyrus would be sure to be on his best behavior.

“Thanks for not killing each other,” the skeleton child finally called from the couch. They were sitting right-side up now, their hands digging in a bowl of popcorn.  Papyrus was pretty sure that hadn’t been there before.

“My skeletiny!” Mettaton let go of him, rushing over to the child. “You didn’t give Aunt Alphys too much trouble, did you?”

“She’s the one giving me trouble.” Their browbone furrowed. “She thinks the first Mew Mew Kissy Cutie is better than the second one.”

“La-la-la I’m not listening!” Alphys pressed her hands to the sides of her head. “If you need me, I’ll be in my lab, avoiding your kid’s slander!”

Well, that was slightly less dramatic than having Mettaton fake a blown fuse. Slightly.

“Phew.” Mettaton sunk down onto the couch once she was gone.  He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, even though he didn’t sweat. “What did you think of our performance, darling? Did we knock ‘em dead?”

“Eh. Needed another rehearsal.” The skeleton threw a handful of popcorn in their mouth. “Three out of five stars.” 

Papyrus put his fists on his hips, wishing he had his scarf to billow behind him. While he could still use blue magic on his bathrobe, it lacked the sense of presentation.

“I think for not having a rehearsal at all, we did excellent!”

The other skeleton gaped at him. A few chewed pieces of popcorn spilled out of their jaw.

“You didn’t practice? What were you guys doing this whole time?”

“We were at work!” Papyrus replied. “My work. Mettaton gave autographs to all the art students.  It was very generous of him.”

The skeleton looked like they were trying to snort. They were young if they didn’t know that wouldn’t work. After failing, they settled for a dismissive “tch.”

“That’s nothing compared to what he asked you to do.”

Mettaton bit his lip. “I know.”

Papyrus scratched the back of his neck.  He couldn’t say it was nothing, because being a parent was certainly a great responsibility! One he, maybe, wasn’t entirely prepared for. But that wouldn’t stop him from trying his best!

“I understand what I’ve agreed to,” he settled on saying.

He sat down on the coffee table, where he could face the child eyesocket to eyesocket.

“I don’t know where you came from.  All I know is that you are Mettaton’s family, and you don’t want to be separated from him.” He placed a gloved hand on the skeleton’s patella. “If you’ll have me to be your family, too, I would be honored.”

The child blinked up at him, their eyelights glowing brightly.  They didn’t hold his gaze for long, though.

“...Yeah, sure.” They shrugged, stuffing their face with popcorn again. “Tha’s why you’re here, righ’?”

It wasn’t the most enthusiastic response, but Papyrus hadn’t expected it to be. He’d hardly been thrilled when his own dad had first introduced himself.

“In that case, I vow to be the best mom I can possibly be!” He beamed.

“Cool. Sweet.” The skeleton’s voice lacked any inflection. “A dad and a mom. I really lucked out, huh?”

“It took a lot more work than luck, darling.” Mettaton wrapped an arm around them, and they gave him a flat glare.

“You used a lot of luck if you didn’t even roleplay your lie to Alphys. We’re going to have to work on that. I’m not going to have you guys ruining this for me.”

Papyrus shared a look with Mettaton.

“I suppose a little practice wouldn’t hurt.” Papyrus smiled sheepishly. “Not that you need it!”

“I understand, beautiful. My performance was… subpar.” He sighed. “I apologize. I must be out of practice after working on music instead of film for so long.”

“Well lucky for you, I happen to be a master roleplayer.”  The child grinned, mischief glinting in their eyelights. Where had they learned how to roleplay? They couldn’t have been around long enough to have much experience… unless they remembered— 

No. Papyrus couldn’t go down that road again. Skeletons were skeletons. Humans were humans. They had different souls. Scientifically speaking, memories couldn’t carry over from one to the other.

“Oh, is that so?” Mettaton smirked, drawing Papyrus out of his thoughts.  “Come on, then. Show your parents how it’s done.”

The skeleton rubbed their hands together.

“Alright.  You’ll be you, and I’ll be…”

Chapter Text

“NGAHHHH!”  Chara suplexed Mettaton—or pretended to, anyway.  Maybe if Papyrus could teach them some blue magic, they’d actually be able to suplex him.  That would be cool as heck. 

“That’s the part where you’d explode,” they told him.

Mettaton sighed from his spot beneath them on the couch. 

“Yes, I gathered that.”

“You’re very good at playing Undyne,” Papyrus said.  “Especially considering, you’ve never met her?”

Chara stiffened, their arms still tangled with their cousin’s.

“I told you I’m good at roleplaying.  Now, give Dad some feedback.  Where did he go wrong?”

“I stood within suplexing distance,” Mettaton muttered.

“He didn’t face her head-on!” Papyrus answered.  “You have to be very direct with Undyne.  If you want her to believe you’re serious about dating me, you need to pretend to be honest!  No hiding your feelings within your robotic heart!” 

Papyrus grinned and knocked on Mettaton’s glass middle, where his heart-shaped power core gently floated.

“Yeah.” Chara grinned. They couldn’t make this irony up if they tried. “You heard Mom. No hiding your feelings.”

Mettaton gave them a flat glare.

“I’m going to ground you.”

“Wow, you found time to read a parenting book. What are you going to ground me from, video games? Playing with my friends? Going to the movies?”

Chara didn’t have video games, or friends, or movies. The closest they’d come was starting an episode of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie (One) with Alphys this afternoon. They hadn’t even gotten through the first fifteen minutes before they’d started arguing.

“I—” Mettaton’s mouth shut as he realized he didn’t have anything to leverage.

“We should all go to the movies!” Papyrus grinned. “That sounds like a great family bonding activity!”

That made Mettaton perk back up.  Chara could hear his fans whirring.

“That’s a wonderful idea, darling! Imagine! The three of us, in a real human movie theater, eating buttery human popcorn—”

“Not too much butter though! I won’t stand for excessive grease!”

“Ah—alright, then. Salty human popcorn. And we’ll share a soda large enough to drown in.”

Chara’s browbone furrowed. “Can you even eat human food?”

“We can all eat human food, if I treat it with my special cooking magic!” Papyrus had already pulled out his phone, and was scrolling through what looked like a movie theater schedule. “What time do you have band practice, Mettaton?”

Chara snapped their fingers, which didn’t work so well with just bones. It sounded more like they were clicking a pair of castanets.

“No one goes to any movies until Dad can convince me Undyne won’t kill him.”

Mettaton pouted. “I feel like I’m the one being grounded.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Mom has to explain this to Sans next.”

Sweat beaded on Papyrus’s skull.

“I am sure that will proceed with no bumps, hiccups, or issues of any kind!” he replied in a voice that was either utterly sincere, or completely sarcastic. Despite their time inside Frisk, Chara didn’t know him well enough to tell.

“At least your brother is less likely to grind you up and use you for spare parts.” Mettaton shuddered.

“Hey. You’re going to be fine,” Chara said. “Just do what Mom said. Tell Undyne you really love Papyrus. No excuses.”

“Yeah! It’s no different than any of your movies, right?” Papyrus patted Mettaton's knee encouragingly. 

Mettaton let out his most dramatic sigh.  It reminded Chara of his performances in the Blook Family Yearning Circle.  Did he still do anything similar, now that he was fully corporeal?

“Very well.  I will not let you down, darl—”

Suddenly the glass of Alphys’s front doors shattered.

“ALPHYS HOLY FU—uh.” Undyne’s foot still hovered in the air where she’d kicked in the glass.  “Papyrus?  Mettaton?? Kid???  You’re still here????”

“Fuh” was right. Mettaton was nowhere near ready.  

Chara flashed their most comforting grimace.  “Alright, Dad. It’s showtime.”

XXX

Mettaton prayed to every god and goddess he knew of, human and monster alike, as he stood in front of Papyrus’s best friend.

“Hello, Undyne.” His voice was stiff, and the hand he held out was even more so.  “What are you doing here on this fine Friday?”

“It’s Tuesday,” she deadpanned, her single eye squinting.  “What are you doing here?”

“Alphys called you, didn’t she?” Stabstablook spoke up from the couch. Mettaton mentally said yet another prayer that they wouldn’t bring up his disastrous proposal attempt again. “I’m guessing that’s why you kicked down the door, and why you don’t look that surprised to see me.”

Right. Of course. What else would Alphys have been doing in her lab but gossiping with her girlfriend?

“A Royal Guard is never surprised!” Undyne puffed out her chest.

“I thought we didn’t have a Royal Guard anymore,” Papyrus pointed out. “Unless you started a new one?  Can I join??”

“W-whatever! Once a Royal Guard, always a Royal Guard!!” She brushed past Mettaton, shaking glass shards off of her sweat pants. “Now—why the HECK did no one tell me that you have a kid!?”

Papyrus’s grin was strained. Sweat dripped from his perfect skull. As much as Mettaton wanted to avoid this confrontation, he couldn’t let Papyrus take the fall for him.

“We were just preparing to tell you,” Mettaton said carefully. It wasn’t even a lie.

That was a pity. Sometimes lies were easier to tell than the truth.

“Can I speak with you privately?” he asked, batting his eyelashes in the most entrancing way possible.

Unfortunately, Undyne was a lesbian. She was impervious to his masculine wiles.

“What are you gonna tell me that your boyfriend can’t hear?”

He fought down his ghostly flush. Undyne wouldn’t know that there was anything unnatural about it, but he didn’t want Stabstablook to see.

“Don’t worry, Mettaton! I will be so quiet, it will be like I’m not even here at all!” Papyrus flashed him a thumbs-up.

“Same.” Stabstablook grinned. “Perfectly quiet.  No one will hear anything but you.  Just the way you like it.”

Mettaton pierced his “child” with his fiercest glare.  Maybe grounding was currently untenable, but he would find some way to get back at them. Like leaving them to clean the snail pens, or having Maddy beat their high score at Super Smashing Fighters.

Maddy. Why hadn’t Stabstablook gone to her? She had never abandoned them… as far as Mettaton knew. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t much anymore.

“Well?” Undyne put her hands on her hips. “Are you gonna start talking?” 

“Of course. I would never keep my audience waiting.” He winked, but considering his laser eye was hidden before his bangs, it looked like a normal blink. “Papyrus and I have been dating for… some time now.”

Exactly five hours and fifty-six minutes. Not that he was counting. And not that it counted, since it was all a facade, anyway.

“Cool. Why do you have a kid.”

Undyne’s inflectionless voice was somehow scarier than when she was shouting.  Mettaton gulped.

“Well. You see.” He cleared his throat, then forced his most sensual smirk. “When a monster and a monster love each other very much…”

Undyne’s eye widened. “SH-SHUT UP! I DON’T WANT TO KNOW!!”

Mettaton heard bones rattling behind him. Probably Stabstablook doing their best not to burst out cackling.

“So you—you and Papyrus—Alphys wasn’t exaggerating.” For some reason, Undyne looked sad. “You really like him? For real?”

Mettaton couldn’t sweat. He wished he could; his internal fans were not keeping him nearly cool enough.  The thought of confessing in front of Papyrus was mortifying, despite the fact that he’d already proposed and couldn’t possibly embarrass himself any further.

Well. He shouldn’t underestimate himself.

“Of course I do,” he finally managed to say. “I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“Not everyone likes him enough to have his freaking kid.” Undyne bared her teeth threateningly. “If you’re not every bit as committed to him as he is to you…”

“I am!” he insisted, despite the trail of broken familial relationships he had left behind. He fought back a wince. “If anything, I’m more committed! It was my idea to have a child in the first place!”

Undyne blinked. “You’re kidding. Aren’t you like, “married to your fans” or whatever? You don’t just have a kid without—”

“Thank you for your input, Undyne!” Papyrus stepped between them before she could really lay into him. “In case you have forgotten, our child is here, and you wouldn’t want to make them feel unwelcome. Right?”

 Mettaton held in a sigh of relief. Papyrus was his savior.

“Th-that’s not what I meant!” Undyne told papyrus through gritted teeth. “It’s just, having a kid is a big responsibility. You have to care about them no matter what. Do you really think the overgrown—er, your boyfriend, is ready for that?”

“Well.” Papyrus stepped back, twining his fingers with Mettaton’s. The fabric of his glove was soft, warm, and more distracting than Mettaton was prepared for.  “I think that it’s worth trusting the people you love. Don’t you?”

Undyne opened her mouth, then closed it again. She couldn’t argue without implying a lack of trust in her friend.  Clever.

“Yeah. Sure.” Her teeth were clenched so hard, Mettaton could hear them grating. “Now Papyrus, are you gonna introduce me to your kid??”

“Of course, my very best friend who I would never want to keep secrets from!”

While Papyrus ran back to the couch, Undyne leaned in close to Mettaton. 

“You break his heart, and I’ll break you into a thousand fancy parts. And then break those parts into tinier parts.”

Mettaton nodded quickly. “Understood.”

“Great!” She grinned, showing off a row of knifelike teeth. 

Papyrus cleared his throat.

“This is my babybones!” He gestured to Stabstablook with both arms, as if presenting a new model on the runway. 

Maybe Mettaton was biased, but his cousin could be a model in their adorable little MTT-Brand striped sweater.  The colors were pink and black, so they matched him perfectly.

“Hi,” Stabstablook said quietly. 

Undyne crouched in front of them. Mettaton might not like her, but he’d been her neighbor long enough to trust her. She wouldn’t hurt a child, no matter how much of an idiot their “dad” was.

“Uh. You look pretty big, for a babybones,” she said.

Stabstablook frowned. 

“You know a lot of skeleton kids?” they asked.

“Fair enough.” She chuckled and held out a hand. “My name’s Undyne. You can call me Aunt Undyne, if you want. What’s yours?”

“I don’t have a name yet.” They shook her hand with the air of royalty greeting a foreign dignitary. Stabstablook always had been able to turn on a certain kind of poise when they so desired. “I use they/them pronouns, though.”

“No name?” Undyne glared up at Mettaton sharply. “You had a kid and didn’t even bother to name them??”

“Of course not!” Papyrus huffed. “Many skeletons choose their own names, once they have settled on a font.”

“Oh. Uh, sorry, then.”

“You’re forgiven,” Stabstablook said. “And for the record, I think my Mom and Dad are doing a great job.”

They reached up with their right hand to hold Mettaton’s, and their left reached for Papyrus’s on the couch.  Papyrus smiled at him over the top of Chara’s head before turning his attention back to their “child.”

“Thank you, babybones,” Papyrus said softly.

A tingle of warmth shot through Mettaton’s circuits. Maybe Chara was just that good at acting, but in that moment…

Well, he felt like he’d been forgiven, too.

Chapter Text

“Well,” Papyrus said to himself while adjusting the rear view mirror. “Today has certainly been an adventure!”

The mirror didn’t respond. He didn’t expect it to, of course. The fragmented visions of Dad couldn’t be summoned on demand. 

It didn’t stop Papyrus from addressing him as if he could hear, though.

“A Mom. I’m going to be a mom. You’re—you’re a grandpa.” He forced a grin, watching tears well up in his eyesockets. It was a natural reaction, nothing to be embarrassed about. He was sure that Dad would have cried at the news, too.

…He was pretty sure, anyway. Sometimes, it was difficult to remember what his father was like at all. But Papyrus was certain that Dad had loved him. Just as he was certain he would come to love this new babybones.

“I wish I knew how you did it,” he admitted, gloved hands clutching the steering wheel. “You must have been a great father, for Sans and I to turn out so great! And you did it all on your own. At least I’ll have Mettaton with me.”

Mettaton wasn’t here at the moment, having taken the child with him to band practice. Papyrus’s cheekbones still pinkened at the memory of Mettaton’s proposal, and he had to turn away from the mirror. 

Of course, Mettaton’s actions had all been for the skeletiny. It was desperation that had fueled him, not love. Not love for Papyrus, anyway—clearly his love for the child was strong enough to prompt this delicate series of japes. It was adorable. Mettaton was going to be a devoted dad, Papyrus was sure of it. Even if he was a robot, and had never had a parental example before…

“We will just have to train extra hard to make up for that! Nyeh heh!”

They could do it. And they would! In fact, Papyrus knew exactly where to start his mom training!

“Talk to you again soon, Dad. Next time I’ll be sure to tell you all about Mettaton and the skeletiny!” 

He reset his rearview mirror, shifted his car into gear, and pulled out of Alphys’s driveway. 

XXX

Toriel lived in a small log cabin near the monster school. She had built it with her own hands (plus a little help from Sans and Papyrus, and Alphys for the electrical wiring). Thanks to the expert craftsmanship, the house felt as much like home as Papyrus’s own. It helped that the houses were directly next to each other, and that at any given time, both cabins were equally likely to contain Sans.

Papyrus knocked on Toriel’s door. For once, he sincerely hoped that Sans was at their own home, or even at Grillby’s.

“Come in!” Toriel called from inside.

She’d told him multiple times that he didn’t need to knock, but he would never drop the polite habit. There was no telling if one day he would walk in on Toriel and Sans doing something disgusting. Like sloppily throwing those pre-packaged pizza lunches at each others’ faces.

Luckily, the home was pizza sauce-free. Unluckily, Sans was sitting between Frisk and Toriel on the living room rug. His usual hoodie was draped over the back of the couch, leaving him in a white tank top.

“Hey, bro,” Sans said. “Maybe you can convince these funnybones that their bright idea ain’t gonna work.”

Papyrus joined them on the floor, momentarily distracted by whatever japes were currently occurring. Frisk had something pressed to Sans’s humerus. Toriel was holding a damp rag.

Papyrus’s head tilted. “Are they attempting to give you a bath?” 

Sans made a choking noise. Frisk’s hands covered their silent laughter, dropping whatever they’d been holding. It wasn’t a bar of soap or a sponge like Papyrus had first assumed. It looked like… a picture? A sticker, maybe?

“Frisk wants to give Sans a temporary tattoo,” Toriel said through a chuckle. “It seems as though that might require skin, but they are determined.”

“Why don’t you try it on me?” Papyrus signed while speaking, even though Frisk was wearing their hearing aid, and they were uncannily skilled at reading skeleton “lips.” “Perhaps Sans’s periosteum is just as slippery as he is!”

“Heh. I’m sure that’s it.” Sans was already on the couch, despite having been on the rug a blink before. Proving Papyrus’s point, as always.

“Fine,” Frisk rolled their eyes while signing. “You don’t get the knife one though. That one was just for Sans. Or for Mom.”

Papyrus nodded. He thought that swords or chainsaws were cooler than knives anyway, but he wouldn’t fight Frisk on that issue.

Frisk dug through their pile of temporary tattoos. In the meantime, Papyrus tried to prepare his question for Toriel. Sans was dozing on the couch, so now was as good of a time as ever.

Papyrus cleared his throat, but then Frisk beamed and shoved a temporary tattoo towards him. His skull blanched when he saw that the image was.

“M-mettaton?” he stammered. 

It was a tiny picture of Mettaton’s face. His tongue was sticking out, and for some reason, his bangs were parted on the wrong side.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, composing his voice. He’d kept his cool when Mettaton had proposed. He wouldn’t let his tiny friend rattle his bones now.

“Mettaton gave the children goody bags on their field trip to his news station,” Toriel answered in both voice and sign. “They had a wonderful time. I had to tell him he couldn’t send them home with flamethrowers, however.”

“Why not? Children love flames!”

“They do.” Toriel laughed. “Parents are slightly less fond of them, I believe.”

“No one is too old or parental to love flames!” he insisted. “I still have as much enthusiasm for pyrotechnics as I did before meeting my child!”

The wet PFFFTTT of a spit-take sounded behind him. A few disgusting drops landed on his skull, even though Sans was practically on the other side of the room.

“Hey, c’mon,” Sans said. “You gotta save those jokes for when I don’t have a mouthful of root beer.”

“You did that on purpose.” Papyrus dried his skull with the hem of his red crop top. At times like this, he missed his Battle Body, with its highly root beer-absorbent cape.

“Maybe.” Sans winked. His grin was strained, though, in a way that only his brother could notice. “You, uh, sounded like you said that by accident, though.”

Papyrus’s cheekbones warmed. He hadn’t planned to bring up the skeletiny like this. Preferably, Sans would have been asleep while he asked Toriel for advice privately… but that wouldn’t be a permanent solution. Just like Undyne, Sans would have to know the truth eventually. Or at least, what was passing as the truth for the foreseeable future.

Before he could decide how to answer, Frisk tugged on his arm.

“I have a cousin???” they signed, a hopeful grin on their face. Toriel’s expression beside them was… indescribable.

“Um.” Papyrus cleared his throat. “Yes? I mean, if you consider me to be your uncle, despite the fact that my brother and your mom have yet to officially announce—”

“Bro.” Sans appeared directly in front of him, kneeling in the pile of temporary tattoos. His hands gripped Papyrus’s upper arms.

“I don’t think that Frisk can apply that tattoo with your hands in the way, Sans,” he said.

His brother’s eyesocket twitched.

“Huh. Is this how you feel every time I dodge your questions with puns and stuff?”

Papyrus couldn’t help cracking a grin.

“I was answering Frisk’s question. You are the only one dodging! Everyone knows that you are Toriel are—”

“Dude just tell me if you're joking about the kid.”

Papyrus blinked. He’d never heard Sans speak so loudly before. His breath smelled like root beer. 

If anyone would see through Papyrus’s lies, it would be his brother. Papyrus would have to word this carefully.

“It would be rather rude to play with Frisk’s feelings like that.”

Frisk fist-pumped, and then their hands flew through signs almost faster than Papyrus could read. “You have to tell me all about them! What do they look like? Are they a skeleton like you? What’s their name? Where do skeleton babies come from?”

Toriel reached around Sans to put a hand on their shoulder. “Frisk, that’s—”

“It’s alright, Toriel!” Papyrus said. He was actually rather relieved that Frisk asked. It was much easier to talk to them about this than to address Sans directly. “They have every right to be excited! This is exciting, and not at all terrifying!”

Toriel’s mouth opened, then closed again.

“I’m not terrified, or anything,” Sans said quickly, his eyelights brightening a bit. “You’re gonna be a great parent. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Sans!!! That is like, the most overbaked pun ever!! I thought you would put in a little more effort to celebrate my newfound Momhood!!!”

“Hey, cut me some slack here.” Sans rubbed the back of his neck. “I never thought you would adopt a kid without telling me.”

He looked so small and dejected, like a kicked puppy. Or maybe a curled-up snail.

“Oh, I see why you're upset now.” Papyrus started to sweat. “I would never do that!”

“Huh? But then—”

“If I made the choice to adopt a child, and went through the legal system to do so, I would obviously let you know as soon as the decision was made! You would deserve to know that I would be taking a child into our house and raising them on my own!” 

“Oh okay whew.” Sans grinned in relief. Frisk flicked him on the humerus, reminding him to sign too. “So, uh. Did you just now decide to adopt a child? Because, uh, that’s great! Just kinda unexpected ‘cause I didn't know you wanted a kid yet, but… uh, good for you, I guess?”

Oh. Hmm. Was this worse? This was worse, probably. Papyrus grimaced, steeling himself to explain.

“Have you heard of—do you—” He frowned, hmming again. “Okay. I’m not sure if you know this, but sometimes… babies come from places… that are…. Not adoption…”

He wasn’t technically lying! The skeletiny wasn’t adopted, legally. Though lying would be the least of his worries if he had to give his brother a dissertation on skeleton reproduction.

“Papyrus.” Toriel’s eyes were wide. “Did you kidnap a child?”

“Well, uh, we technically kidnapped Frisk,” Sans reminded her. Frisk flashed them both a thumbs-up.

“Right, yes.” Toriel grimaced. 

“It turned out fine,” Frisk signed, shrugging. “No big deal.”

“Regardless… we can help with this child’s situation, but you should bring them here immediately.”

“Yeah, if their parents suck—I mean, you wouldn’t have stolen them if their parents didn’t suck, right?”

“Or if they ran away,” Toriel added. “We need to make sure that they are safe.”

“Er, actually—” Papyrus tried to interrupt, but Sans and Toriel kept going.

“Toriel still has all the paperwork from adopting Frisk—I can just pop over to her office—”

“And I can prepare a room and guard the house.” Toriel’s palms sparked with flames. “No ill-intentioned biological parents will pass me.”

“You don’t need to fight the biological parents!!” Papyrus finally shouted. “The biological parents are trying their best!!!” 

Still not technically a lie! Maybe! Hopefully!!

Toriel squeezed his shoulder. “I am sure that the child does not want you to worry, but if they have run away from home, there must be something wrong. Parents can make terrible mistakes—”

He pushed her hand away, trying his best not to scream.

“You two aren’t listening! It’s me!” He threw his arms in the air. “I am the biological parent!!!”

His shout echoed between the living room walls. Frisk adjusted their hearing aid.

“You’re.” Sans blinked. “What.”

Papyrus was still dripping sweat onto Toriel’s rug. Was that why she was staring at him with such a dumbfounded expression?

“I—er, I did not mean… I have no intention of fighting you, Papyrus.” She extinguished the flames in her hands. “I am sure that you are trying your best…”

“Skeletons can’t have kids,” Sans suddenly said, in such a confident deadpan that Papyrus was momentarily caught off guard.

“Sans. Brother.” Papyrus tried not to sigh. He knew that Sans didn’t remember Dad quite as well as he did, but that was no excuse not to have checked out a library book, or something. “Where do you think we came from?”

“No. Nope.” Sans shut his eyes. “Not having this conversation. Not doing it.”

Toriel giggled a little behind her paw, despite looking just as awkward.

“I didn’t ask to have this conversation!” Papyrus huffed. “Just know that skeletons can have children, and they will!”

Frisk tapped Papyrus’s patella. “I want to have this conversation.”

“No you don’t,” Sans and Toriel responded in sync.

“Maybe later,” Papyrus tried to sign discreetly, but Frisk wasn’t deterred.

“Don’t you need a mom and a dad to have a kid?” they asked. “You’re the mom. So who’s the dad? Do I have another uncle??”

“Well you see, actually—” Papyrus started, despite Sans’s obvious discomfort. It was just biology. If Sans wasn’t going to read a book, then unfortunately, Papyrus was probably the only one equipped to pass on this information. “There are multiple ways that skeletons can reproduce. By burying a rib in the earth, a single parent can grow a new biological child. There is also the process of reanimating, er… human skeletons. But only ones that aren’t being used!”

Frisk nodded, not seeming offended by the new knowledge. Whew.

“Well that’s a relief,” Sans said under his breath. “Thought I was gonna have to deal with a brother-in-law on top of a baby nibling.”

Papyrus grinned tightly.

“Of course there is also the two-monster process of creating a child. Which is. Erm. So Mettaton and I—”

Sans’s skull hit the hardwood with a loud thunk.

“Oh my g—stop being so dramatic!!!” Papyrus said. “This is hard enough without you pretending to faint like some—like some goat from those meme videos you’re always watching!!”

Frisk fell over too, but in their case, it seemed to be from cackling silently. They held their stomach as if the laughter threatened to make them throw up.

Papyrus didn’t know what kind of reaction he’d expected. He’d hoped there would be less pretend fainting involved, but honestly, he was just lucky that Sans hadn’t pulled out a book of baby puns.

…Actually, no. He’d never admit it, but a few puns would be rather nice about now.

“Of course I would have told you as soon as I knew we were expecting but, they were kind of a surprise?” he rambled as the panic set in. “And Mettaton didn't want to make a big announcement because he's always in the spotlight, and he didn't want his kid to be a giant media scandal because we’re not even engaged yet! And I would have told you but I’ve just been so busy taking care of the skeletiny while Mettaton is working and you know they have to be my biggest priority as a mom and—”

“Papyrus,” Sans interrupted, still lying on the floor. “You’re doing great at, uh, mom-ing or whatever. This is, uh, this is a me thing, okay? I just. I’m gonna need the next few… hours? Years? Uh, just gimme some time.”

“Of course,” Papyrus said quickly, relief flooding over him. 

He wasn’t a bad mom. He wasn’t a bad sibling. He—he hadn’t even actually created a child! It was a little uncanny how easy it was to forget that once he started talking. He’d even realized several important worries that he’d been suppressing, such as—

“Oh no!!” He gripped the sides of his skull. “What if the media thinks they’re a mistake?? Mettaton and I aren’t even public yet and the presses are brutal and I don’t want our child to google themself in the future only for all of the results to be tabloids calling them a bastard—oh my goodness I’m so sorry Frisk I didn’t mean to say that word in front of you—”

Toriel buried her face in her paws. “Papyrus, please—”

“How am I supposed to even raise a child when I am already failing to censor myself?? Toriel!!” He knelt at her feet, hands clasped in a show of both repentance and desperation. “Your child is very well-adjusted and has a healthy appreciation for deadly spikes!  Please, teach me how to become a mom worthy of my skeletiny!!!”

“You think I’m well-adjusted?” Frisk grinned.

“Of course! How could you not be, with such a wonderful group of parents??”

“That is sweet of you, Papyrus,” Toriel said, lifting Papyrus back up with one paw. “However… I have made my own share of mistakes, you know.”

Papyrus blinked up at her, eyesockets damp.

“Did the tabloids call you an irresponsible slut? Not—not that that’s happened yet! Or that promiscuity is a bad thing, I am not slutshaming anyone, I just know that others might and I don’t want this to be a shadow over my child’s future—”

“Bro.” Sans tugged on Papyrus’s arm from where he still lay on the floor. “Mettaton owns the news, doesn’t he?”

“Well, he runs the monster news network, but—”

“No one’s gonna call you a—a slut.” Sans’s skull turned blue as he cringed.

Frisk let out a pfhfhfhfhf of a laugh. “Slut.”

“My child, where did you even learn that sign?”

“Maddy.” They grinned.

“Of course.” Toriel sighed and shook her head. “I suppose that is not technically a swear…”

“It’s not??” Frisk looked disappointed.

“Regardless!” She clapped. “I will do my best to help you, Papyrus. So, ah, is your child an infant, or…? I’m afraid I am not entirely familiar with the skeleton life cycle, myself.”

“Er. Hmm. Well.” Papyrus scratched the back of his skull. He wasn’t actually sure how old the skeletiny was, himself. “It’s somewhat complicated? Let’s assume they’re Frisk’s age. Just for convenience!”

Toriel’s eyes widened. “They are…? Papyrus, how long have you had this child?”

Papyrus started to sweat again. 

“Can I phone a friend?”

“Oh man. It’s that bad, huh.” Sans let out a mirthless laugh.

“Sans! I thought we agreed not to slutshame me!!”

“I didn’t.” Frisk grinned. “Slut.”

“Frisk!!!” Papyrus dropped his skull into his palms. Frisk tugged on his hands until he looked up again.

“Uncle Papyrus.” Frisk’s face was more serious now. “I’m just messing with you. You’re the best uncle ever, and you’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Y-you really think so?” he asked.

“Yeah!” They smiled again. “You’re gonna raise me the coolest cousin ever. I can’t wait to meet them!”

“One step at a time, kiddo.” Sans was suddenly standing, his hand on Frisk’s shoulder. “Why don’t we give your uncle and mom some time to talk, huh? Let’s go… I dunno, get some ice cream or something.”

“Why don’t we go tell Maddy?” Frisk hopped up and down.

“Please don’t.” Papyrus cringed. If Maddy and Asgore found out before he could tell Mettaton, he wasn’t sure what would happen. Probably more slutshaming of one form or another.

“Let’s not.” Sans took their hand. “C’mon. I know a shortcut.”

“Wait!” Frisk tugged free, then pressed the Mettaton-shaped temporary tattoo into Papyrus’s hand. “Keep it.”

Papyrus wasn’t sure if he could even wear the tattoo—or the proper method for applying it—but he held it close to his chest and smiled anyway.

Then Frisk and Sans walked back towards the bedrooms. Sans must have been desperate to escape, because he left his hoodie on the couch. Papyrus stood and brushed his hand over it.

He’ll adjust, Papyrus told himself. His brother loved Frisk. His sense of humor was childish enough to get along with any kid. It must only be the suddenness of it all that had him so… like this.

But that was what Papyrus had signed up for. He didn’t regret it. His reputation, however carefully crafted, was meaningless compared to the wellbeing of a new skeleton.

“I am sorry,” Toriel said after a moment of silence. “I hope we did not worry you with our reactions. My child is right. You have the heart to be a wonderful mother, no matter how your child came to be.”

The praise warmed Papyrus down from his skull to his metatarsals.

“That means a lot, coming from you.” He smiled. 

He could do this. He could and he would do this. He had his friends and his family by his side, and they believed in him. Despite him giving them every reason not to.

“I am still not sure exactly what advice to give, but how about we discuss it over tea?”

“That would be wonderful!”

Yes. Everything was going to be perfectly fine!

Chapter Text

“Skeletiny. Baby. Darling.” Mettaton tapped Stabstablook’s skull with the tip of his boot. “Please tell me you aren’t dying.”

From their spot splatted facedown on the hotel’s ballroom floor, Stabstablook gave him a thumbs-up. He let out a breath of relief. 

“Wonderful. You do know that you can die, right?” He realized that they might not know. Had they comprehended the gravity of being corporeal when they’d chosen their form? 

Had they even chosen their form? As much as Mettaton adored one skeleton in particular—well, two skeletons now, he supposed—he never would have picked one for his own body. But Stabstablook wasn’t him. They’d always had a taste for the macabre. 

“I’ve died more times than you’ve been alive,” Stabstablook muttered. “Go do your band stuff. I’m trying to sleep.”

Mettaton pouted, but before he could reply, Shyren floated over.

“I finished setting up the equipment,” she said quietly. “Um… does your friend need any help?”

“‘M fine,” Stabstablook said. “Family tradition.”

“Usually that’s done face-up,” Mettaton muttered.

“Are you sure?” Shyren asked. “You can have a pillow, or a blanket. There’s plenty of rooms in the hotel… and um, I’m guessing you’re a guest…?”

Maybe Mettaton should have started explaining when he’d carried Stabstablook into the ballroom, but he didn’t want to perform this act twice. When was Blooky going to arrive?

“Mettaton’s my dad,” Stabstablook deadpanned. 

Ugh. So they were doing this now anyway.

“O-oh!” Shyren’s illicium perked up, and she smiled at Mettaton. “Congratulations?”

“Thank you, darling.” Mettaton smiled tiredly.

“So, um…” Shyren bit her lip. “I’ll be right back.”

She swam through the air as quickly as if she’d been shot from a cannon. Wonderful. He hadn’t expected Shyren of all monsters to gossip, but—

“Here.” Shyren was already back at Stabstablook’s side, propping a pink pillow under their face. “Oh. Um. Can you breathe? …Do you need to breathe?”

“‘S perfect.” Their voice was muffled by the pillow. “Thanks, Shyren.”

“Oh! You know my name?” 

Tiny zzz’s were already floating above Stabstablook’s head. She gave them a soft look before glaring at Mettaton. His insides squirmed.

He was supposed to be the one getting his child pillows and smiling at them as they slept. Stabstablook wasn’t actually his child, of course, but that wouldn’t stop Shyren from silently judging him.

He sighed. Better a silent judgment than a vocal one, he supposed. He’d had all of the interrogations he could endure for one day.

Speaking of interrogations…

He sat down on the edge of the ballroom stage and pulled his phone from his chest compartment.

How did your brother take the news? he texted Papyrus while waiting for Blooky to arrive.

The typing dots showed up immediately.

It went!!!

Mettaton winced.

Oh dear. That bad? he typed back.

Bad?? Why is everyone assuming the worst??
It’s not like I have stolen a child!!

…Did they think you
He backspaced out of that message before trying again.
Thank you, darling. I know this can’t be easy for you.

No task is too great for the Great Papyrus!!
Especially when it comes to a fellow skeleton in need!!!
Besides actually Frisk is really excited!
So excited in fact that they might have
Told Mew Mew and Asgore already.
Possibly.

Mettaton blinked down at the rapid-fire string of texts.

Who the heck is Mew Mew

Asgore’s girlfriend who sometimes lives under our sink :)
She scares away the dog that is always stealing my attacks, so she is a friend in my book!
And in my house.

Mettaton bit his lip, holding in a laugh. How was Papyrus so cute, even when he wasn’t trying?

He started to type up a reply when another message popped up on his screen.

hi mtt um so!!!

Oh dear. A message from Alphys that started like that couldn’t be good.

i dont know if u were planning 2 sleep over again
but
undyne is sleeping over
and. idk if she can handle u right now???
not that she hates you or anything!!!!
shes just going through some stuff
oh no i probably shouldnt have told u that
forget i said anything

The last three messages deleted as soon as Mettaton read them. Well, at least Alphys wasn’t making things up to make him feel better.

dont worry darling
undynes opinon of me is the least of my worries tbh

are u mad i told her??
omg youre mad i told her
im sorry i was just so excited i wasnt thinking straight

please you never think straight ;)
i mean it though. everything is fine
i have sleeping arrangements already anyway

oh good!!!! (^///^)٩(^ᴗ^)۶

It would be better if it was true, but hopefully it would be soon.

May I also be a friend in your house? ;) he sent to Papyrus.

Of course!! You are already my friend!!! :D

Wondeful! The skeletiny and I will be there after band practice. See you soon love ^^

He hugged his phone to his chest, kicking his feet off the edge of the stage. 

“oh no… mettaton is already here… i’m so late… you must be so inconvenienced… sorry” 

“You’re actually one minute early,” Shyren said.

“oh” Blooky looked back and forth. “then why is mettaton already dancing”

Mettaton leapt down from the stage, sticking the landing stiffly.

“I wasn’t dancing! I was just warming up!” He rolled his arms in their sockets. “Keeping the joints loose and limber!”

“oh… i guess i wouldn’t know about that…”

“Nevermind that, darling.” Mettaton grinned, angling his arm as if to wrap it around Blooky’s metaphorical shoulders. “The gang’s all here, so let’s get started! I’m absolutely dying to hear more of that demo you sent.”

“aww… thanks mettaton…” Blooky smiled a little. “But I don’t know if you noticed… it’s okay if you didn’t… there’s someone sleeping on the floor… over there”

They looked towards Stabstablook. Right.

“They’re Mettaton’s kid,” Shyren explained. Her expression was just flat enough to not quite be a glare.

“oh”

Blooky looked back and forth again. Mettaton almost wished he were still incorporeal, so that he could vanish into the floor.

“Papyrus is the father,” he blurted, as if that would make anything better. “Other father, I mean! Mom is the title he prefers, actually—”

“Papyrus?” Blooky’s eyes widened a fraction. “Oh…”

“Why? Is something wrong with that?” Mettaton wrung his hands together behind his back. 

It shouldn’t matter if Blooky judged him. Blooky didn’t even know he was their cousin. But they were still friends, and bandmates, and almost-roommates if you counted the fact that Mettaton had given them a room at the hotel. 

“oh no… this is awkward…” Blooky shrunk back. “i thought Papyrus would have told me…”

Mettaton was flooded with anxiety at Blooky’s reaction. Clearly, there was something going on that he hadn’t taken into account.

Oh no. Were Blooky and Papyrus together? Wait, that was ridiculous. Blooky never kept secrets, and also wasn't interested in dating.

“he brought the new college students yesterday… for the snail-raising internship” Blooky explained. “he told me all about his new puzzle in the student center… but nothing about a kid... i guess i thought we were better friends…”

Oh. Oh. Mettaton had forgotten that Blooky sometimes worked with Papyrus. Mostly because Mettaton lost most brain function whenever Papyrus was around.

“Oh my.” He bit his lip. “I’m, ah, so sorry to break the news so suddenly.”

He made a mental note to tell Papyrus to apologize to Blooky. Papyrus was much better at apologies, anyway.

Wait a second. Why was Blooky so surprised that Papyrus hadn’t said anything? Wasn’t Mettaton their friend too?

“it’s ok… at least you told me…” Blooky smiled a little. “Congrats…”

Mettaton smiled back. He could hardly stay upset with his cousin.

“So, um, are we going to do band practice, or…?” Shyren asked.

“Oh!” Mettaton clapped his hands. “Yes! Don’t worry, my child can sleep through anything.”

Probably. Being newly corporeal took a lot out of a ghost. He’d slept through all of Alphys’s chainsawing and blowtorching when she’d repaired his EX body.

Shyren didn’t move to get her microphone. Blooky looked between her and Mettaton.

 “oh… we’re at an impasse… this is awkward” 

“Do you think we should play loud music while Mettaton’s kid is sleeping, Blooky?” 

“oh… i don’t know much about sleeping…” They shuddered in and out of sight briefly. “what if… we threw a blanket over them…?”

“I’ll handle that,” Mettaton said quickly, “because I am a wonderful parent who would not want my darling, skinless child to be cold.”

As he dashed away from the awkward situation, he heard Blooky ask Shyren if that had been sarcasm.

XXX

Mettaton had several new texts after band practice. At least five of them were Papyrus asking if he should cook dinner, and if so, which type of pasta was the skeletiny’s favorite.

Dinner with Papyrus. And then, afterwards, spending the night in Papyrus’s house. His circuits nearly overheated just thinking about it.

“see you next week, mettaton…” Blooky said. “or sooner… if you’re around the hotel…”

Mettaton winced. “Actually… I, ah, won’t be living at the hotel for the near future.”

“oh. okay”

“The skeletiny and I are going to stay with Papyrus, since it’s very important for a child to be around both parents, you know. And apparently Frisk is excited to meet them, so it will be good for them to have another friend their age. Not at all because I don’t want to live near you, darling.”

“i wasn’t thinking that…”

“In fact, if you still want to bask in my presence, you could move with us!” His grin was so tight, he might have cracked a rivet. Why was he still talking??

“Did Papyrus say that?” Stabstablook asked, making Mettaton jump. When had they woken up? “Also, why is there a tablecloth on me.”

“It’s a blanket!” Mettaton said, wrapping the tablecloth tighter around Stabstablook’s shoulders. “We didn’t want you to get cold. Or loud.”

Stabstablook’s empty eyesockets blinked up at him. “...Whatever. Are we leaving?”

“Soon! Very soon. I was just asking Blooky if they wanted to come with us. I’m sure Papyrus wouldn’t mind.”

“well… actually… i don’t really want to move…” Napstablook said quietly. “i’m close to the snail farm here… and the pool is nice… relaxing…”

Mettaton blinked. But why was he so surprised? Of course Blooky had their own life. The snail garden on the resort’s roof was their pride and joy, right alongside the band. It was just… strange, realizing that Blooky cared more about being close to the snails than to him.

“Oh. Well. Alright.” Mettaton nodded. “I’ll—I’ll see you next week, then.”

“see you… and your kid, if they come back…” They smiled at Stabstablook. “sorry i didn’t say hi… you were sleeping… i didn’t want to be rude…”

“You weren’t rude,” Stabstablook said quickly. “I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m—um, I don’t have a name yet. It doesn’t matter. You’re, um, ‘Napperhog,’ right?”

Mettaton’s brow furrowed. Napperhog? Really?

“heh heh… you really are Papyrus’s kid…” They were practically beaming, as far as ghost expressions went. “it’s napstablook… or blooky, if that’s easier…”

“Nice to meet you, Blooky.” Stabstablook gave a stiff-yet-polite bow, and the tablecloth dragged on the floor.

“nice to meet you too…”

Mettaton grinned as he carried Stabstablook outside. Finally, they had aced that pop quiz. Blooky didn’t suspect a thing.

XXX

“Blooky definitely suspects something,” Stabstablook said when they were in the back of the car. Their suitcases—full of Mettaton’s things and a few gift shop items for Stabstablook—were a wall in the seat between them.

“Nonsense, darling.” Mettaton crossed his legs and took a long sip from his MTT-Brand Sparkle Smoothie™. “We couldn’t have been more fabulous actors.”

If anything, Blooky suspected Mettaton was a terrible father. Unfortunately, that was a very believable lie.

“If you say so.” Stabstablook sipped from their own smoothie. Sure, they were probably about to be treated to a five-star meal at Papyrus’s home, but it was better for his image if Blooky and Shyren saw him purchase food for them. “They’re going to be the most difficult to convince long-term. They’ve known us longer than anyone.”

“Please. I’ve been corporeal going on two years now, and Blooky has never even hinted at knowing my identity.”

It had been… a little disappointing, in a strange way. He hadn’t wanted to be found, of course, but if anyone was going to… 

Blooky did know him better than anyone. Blooky didn’t know him at all. How could they, when they were content to stay incorporeal? When they were content to stay in one place, never changing, never reaching for something higher and higher?

“Maybe they were too polite,” Stabstablook said under their breath. “I thought once, while I was… ugh. It’s complicated.”

Mettaton’s brow furrowed. Stabstablook had remained at Blook Acres when he had first left.

“Did they tell you something I don’t know?” he asked.

Stabstablook shook their head. “It’s nothing.”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re certainly going to suspect something if your acting is this unconvincing.”

“It is nothing.” They scowled. “You would know that if you’d bothered to keep in contact at all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You found my number, didn’t you?” 

He was the only one they’d contacted. They didn’t have room to judge.

Stabstablook crossed their annoying baby arms over their seatbelt. “That was dumb luck.”

They had never explained how they’d found his number—the one connected directly to the speaker in his EX body. He only gave that number out for emergencies, and… well, that one time on his show’s final episode underground. The viewer call-in special basically counted as an emergency.

It had been an emergency when Stabstablook called, too. Their sob-shaken voice had him dashing back to the mountain as quickly as his rocket-boosted boots could carry him.

The car rolled to a stop, and Mettaton’s head snapped towards the window. They were at Papyrus’s cabin already. He’d been so busy thinking about his cousins, he’d entirely forgotten to compose himself for tonight’s performance. 

Stabstablook unbuckled their seatbelt and passed the driver a fifty dollar bill.

“Sorry my dad doesn’t drive,” they said.

“Where did you get that?” Mettaton’s eyes widened. That was way more money than the ten-minute drive had cost.

“Pickpocketed you.” Stabstablook smirked. “The tip is for keeping their mouth shut.”

The driver nodded in understanding, and Mettaton’s processors froze. Of course, it would be all too easy for an eavesdropping driver to spread celebrity gossip. Even if Mettaton’s celebrity status was only local here on the surface. Regardless, he’d have to be more careful in the future.

“Come on, Dad.” Stabstablook tugged their luggage out of the car. “Let’s finish ruining Mom’s day.”

XXX

“Wow.” Stabstablook stared down at their empty plate. An artful arrangement of alfredo had been there minutes before they’d inhaled it. “That didn’t suck??”

“I’m glad that you think so!” Papyrus smiled as he took their plate, but Mettaton could see the confused tilt to his browbones. “Did someone tell you that it would?”

“Wh—no!” Mettaton waved his hands quickly. A glob of alfredo sauce flung from his fork and splatted against the wall. Oops. “Everyone adores your cooking, darling!”

At least, they did now. Mettaton hadn’t been close enough to Papyrus in the past to endure his early pasta blunders.

Of course, Stabstablook hadn’t, either. 

Papyrus puffed out his chest, his apron billowing in a nonexistent breeze. “Of course they do, nyeh heh! My cooking skills have been aged like silken spaghetti in an oaken cask... which I now know is not the most effective way to prepare spaghetti.”

In one graceful swoop, he dunked the plate in the soapy sink water and flicked it into the dishwasher. Mettaton did his best not to swoon. How could someone make doing the dishes look so attractive?

“It wasn’t you. Really. It’s just, uh, I didn’t think I liked pasta,” Stabstablook said. 

Mettaton let out a sigh of relief. There was only so much damage control he could attempt in one day.

Papyrus finished cleaning up the kitchen with incredible speed. Mettaton felt a little dizzy just watching him.

“Well! I think that was a highly successful family bonding dinner!” Papyrus clapped his gloved hands together. “Do you two need a ride home? Or is someone coming to pick you up?”

Mettaton’s processors screeched to a halt. Oh no. This was just like the proposal all again. He didn't have the strength to endure two rejections in one day. He just wanted a nap, preferably while being the little spoon to Papyrus.

Stabstablook let out a choked laugh. “You didn’t ask him.”

“I did!” he protested. “We were texting while you were asleep. He said yes.”

“Said yes to what?” Papyrus’s browbone furrowed. “I, um. I said we could be friends? Is that what you mean?”

Mettaton dropped his face in his hands. Friendzoned twice in one day, too. Maybe he should just pack his things and go back to the hotel. Even if it would be a nightmare to explain to Blooky…

“He told everyone that we were living here,” Stabstablook said. “I hoped he wasn’t dumb enough to invite himself over, but…”

“This was all for you, in case you forgot.” Mettaton glared through his fingers. Maybe he’d been a bit too eager to have Papyrus as his co-star in this play, but he hadn’t asked to run today’s gauntlet of mortification. 

Stabstablook tensed, their eyelights flickering in uncertain counterpoint to their deadpan voice.

“Oh, like I’m the first one to hide from our family. You would’ve expected the same help from me.” 

“I wouldn’t have humilated you constantly in the process!” 

Papyrus cleared his throat. “Mettaton, Skeletiny…”

Stabstablook’s jaw clacked shut. They slumped down in their chair, cowed as if Papyrus really were their mom.

“I’m sure everyone’s just tired from the long day. Let’s not take it out on each other!” he said brightly, though a bead of sweat dripped from his skull. “There’s plenty of room in Casa Papyrus for both of you. Especially since Sans is…”

“Sans is what?” Stabstablook sat back up. “He’s okay, right?”

“He’s fine!” Papyrus assured them. “He just, um. He wasn’t quite prepared to be an amazing uncle! It may take him a while to collect himself. So he won’t be here tonight. Or for the foreseeable future.”

Mettaton’s eye widened. Sans had taken their faux relationship worse than Undyne? Mettaton hadn’t expected the shorter brother to care. But then again, Mettaton had only known him as a comedian at the resort. That wasn’t exactly a personal relationship.

“Oh,” Mettaton said finally. Stabstablook had unhelpfully sunk back under the table. 

“It’s alright!” Papyrus forced a grin. “Really. Sans was—he was probably looking for an excuse to spend more nights at Toriel’s, anyway.”

Stabstablook made some kind of choked noise, and Mettaton winced. Right. Toriel was their other other mom. Mettaton didn’t want to be there when they found out about Asgore dating this “Mew Mew” character.

“Of course, neither of you will be using his room,” Papyrus went on. “You would most likely walk into some kind of space-time prank, and if not, you’d be crushed under the smell of his dirty sock collection.” 

“I don’t need a bed. I can sleep on the floor. Or outside. Or anywhere,” Stabstablok said quickly, still under the table. Did they think they could still phase through the floor?

“Nonsense!!” 

Papyrus ducked under the table himself. Mettaton left his seat to crouch with them, and was surprised to find Stabstablook’s sockets slightly damp.

He bit his lip. Stabstablook was just tired. It wasn’t his fault. They’d known what he was like, and they’d still chosen him out of all their cousins to confide in.

“You are my child,” Papyrus said, squeezing Stabstablook’s hands comfortingly. Within Papyrus’s gloves, their bones looked more fragile and thin than ever. “I would never send you out in the dark without even a bed of deadly spikes for shelter! You can use my room for tonight.”

Stabstablook’s eyesockets widened. Their eyelights still wavered.

“You don’t have to do that just because you feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry at all.” Papyrus smiled. “And you shouldn’t, either. You’ll feel right at home with all of my skeleton decor!”

“But… then where are you and Dad going to sleep?” 

Mettaton tried not to hold his breath for Papyrus’s answer. After all the trouble Mettaton had caused, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was sent to sleep in the woods.

“On my couch, of course!”

Mettaton’s gaze flickered to the living room’s lumpy green couch. It wasn’t exactly romantic… but it was narrow enough to encourage spooning.

“Of course,” Mettaton echoed. “Don’t worry one bit, babybones.”

They finally cracked a little smile. “Alright. I’ll do my best.”

Papyrus leapt up so quickly, Mettaton was pretty sure he clipped through the table. He pulled Stabstablook up after him. Mettaton awkwardly scrambled to his feet unassisted.

“Great!” Papyrus beamed. “Then let me show you to your home away from home!”

XXX

The couch involved no spooning.

Papyrus’s head rested on a bone-shaped pillow at the opposite end of the couch, leaving his bare feet inches from Mettaton’s face. His charging cord kept getting tangled between the two blankets and Papyrus’s tibias. Everything smelled more like ancient upholstery than like The Moon™, Papyrus’s favorite cologne. 

He hoped Stabstablook was sleeping better than he was. They’d been surprisingly excited to take the race car bed for a metaphorical test drive.

He folded his hands over his middle, staring up at the wooden ceiling. Somehow a blue stain had gotten on one of the boards. There were no glow-in-the-dark stars like in his hotel room. Even the air felt unfamiliar, wild and cold like the woods outside.

Had he made a horrible mistake? Should he have told the truth—or at least made up a different lie? There was no other story he could picture Alphys believing. If only he’d made it back to his hotel last night, instead of collapsing on her couch. He’d only intended a quick power nap to recover from the artificial adrenaline and very real emotional whirlwind.

Stabstablook was alive. They hadn’t dissolved like he’d assumed for the past two years. He hadn’t killed them.

Still, that was a pretty low bar. Their bickering was an easy routine too fall into, but he needed to do better. They were family. The only family who still recognized him. The only family who still needed him. And when he’d first scooped their tiny, skeletal form in his arms, he’d promised that he wouldn’t fail them again.

“Well!” Papyrus suddenly threw off his blanket. “That was a great twenty-seven minutes!”

Mettaton rubbed his eye. A great… did he say minutes?

Wait. Mettaton remembered the day they met, when Papyrus had camped out in front of Undyne’s house in Waterfall. Mettaton had assumed it was just nerves that kept the skeleton awake.

Well. Considering today’s events, that might still be the case.

Mettaton sat up blearily. Papyrus was folding his blanket, placing it on the coffeetable, searching for his keys. He was a rattling white blur across the living room.

“Is there a reason for the rush, darling?” Mettaton tried not to pout. Surely he hadn’t made Papyrus uncomfortable, had he? He’d kept his arms and legs to himself, despite any temptations.

“Yes!” Papyrus called from the front door. “I can’t let my child and pretend-boyfriend go bedless again! I am headed to my cool shed. That’s like a tool shed, but cooler!”

“You’re… shed.” He rubbed his forehead. He didn’t have enough energy to make sense of the words.

“Your shed. As in my shed. Not as in ‘I am a shed.’”

Mettaton squeezed his eyes shut. He really didn’t have enough energy for this. He wouldn’t truly recover until he entered RAM sleep, during which his processors would perform maintenance and rapidly absorb charge.

“If you would like, I’d appreciate your help,” Papyrus said. “Your chainsaw skills would cut the construction times in half!”

Cut…?

“You’re building beds?”

“Yes! I thought I was quite clear about that.” Papyrus’s voice was clipped. Mettaton hadn’t noticed that at first.

“Darling, I can afford plenty of beds tomorrow.” He flopped back down, rolling onto his face. “Go back to sleep.”

“I told you. I already had twenty-seven minutes. I won’t hold your longer charging cycle against you, but I can’t just lie here while responsibilities are waiting.”

The responsibilities could lie a little longer. Unless Papyrus was truly that determined not to share a bed—or a couch—with him.

“Fine,” Mettaton grumbled into his pillow. “Enjoy your construction project.”

“I will! I’ll enjoy it enough for both of us!!”

The door slammed a little louder than necessary.

Chapter Text

Alphys kicked off her slippers and flicked off the main light, leaving only the bedside lamp on. She flopped back onto her bed, though she was still much too excited by the events of the day to think about actual sleep.

Just relaxing in bed was nice though. Her beautiful, sexy, and strong girlfriend was already sprawled on top of the pink blankets. Alphys was still wearing headphones, so she felt rather than heard when Undyne sighed in acknowledgement of her presence, blindly tapping Alphys’s forehead with her knuckles.

Today was perfect. She got to spend the day—and now the night—with her sexy girlfriend. Her third-favorite ship was canon. Heck, she was even a grandmother, technically speaking! Even if her grandchild had some unhinged opinions about Mew Mew Kissy Cutie… hopefully they'd grow out of it.

"Do you think a seven hour video essay would fix Mettaton's kid's bad opinions?" Alphys asked idly, pulling off her headphones and shoving them into a messy bedside drawer. She didn't know any MMCK video essays that were that long, but she’d been planning to fix that for a while.

"Huh? Yeah, I guess." 

Undyne sounded distracted, though she was only staring at the ceiling. Alphys bit her lip. Had their anime marathon not cheered her girlfriend up as much as she'd thought?

"Hey." Alphys rolled onto her stomach and scooched closer to Undyne. "Um. Do y-you want me to shut up about anime for a bit? We could, um. Make out? Or something??"

To her surprise, Undyne winced. Alphys backed away a few inches, reflexively giving her space and trying to push away the coldness that she always felt when Undyne was hurt.

"Babe. I love you so so much," Undyne said, in a tone that had a but dangling at the end.

"I l-love you, too." Alphys sat up against the headboard.

Whatever Undyne was worried about, it probably wasn't her fault. It usually wasn't. 

She was still getting used to reminding herself that.

"Ugh!" 

Undyne smacked her own face, clawing at the edge of her hairline. Messy red strands fell over her eye. She pulled them taut and started strumming them like guitar strings. The lamplight haloed her head in shades of pink and gold.

"Why do I still suck at this??" She glared at the hair strands as if they had the answer. 

"Suck at what?" Alphys's head tilted. "You're great at, like, everything.” 

Undyne shrugged, still just as tense as before, even as Alphys tried to give her space.

“Gosh, even your little noises right now. They're so cute and perfect and make me want to kiss you."

Undyne blushed. She probably hadn't noticed the little chirping clicks that came from the back of her throat.

"I don't…” Undyne shuddered. “I don’t really feel like kissing right now," she finally managed to get out, through another chorus of clicks.

Alphys smiled in relief. 

"Oh. Is that all?" 

Undyne nodded, then tensed again and feebly shook her head to say no.

Alphys knew that her girlfriend didn't like to be touched sometimes. It had caused confusion early in their relationship, but Undyne had gotten good at telling Alphys when she wasn't in the mood.

Usually. 

Usually Undyne wouldn't wait so long to admit it.

Undyne took a deep breath.

"Also I don't want to get married right now. Or have kids.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and her voice sounded more frail than Alphys had heard in a long time. “And I might not want to do either of those things? Ever? And I'm so confident about it. And not at all panicking. I’m so good at boundaries! and I trust you!" Her voice cracked slightly with emotion as she dug her claws into the blankets.

Alphys heard the faint sound of threads ripping. She buried her fingers in the folds of her nightgown to stop herself from reaching out and touching her girlfriend, because it would only startle her right now. She watched as Undyne’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths, as Undyne swallowed painfully, as her ear fins shuddered weakly. 

"Please don't hate me?” Undyne finished, finally making eye contact that was clearly difficult for her and giving an awkward toothy approximation of a smile.

Alphys wanted to cradle Undyne's face in her hands and gently nuzzle her nonexistent nose, but that wasn’t a good idea if Undyne was feeling touch averse. Instead she threw a blanket on top of Undyne’s head.

“Of course I don't hate you, babe.”

“Your robot-son-guy hates me,” Undyne grumbled, trying to untangle her limbs from the blanket. 

“Mettaton doesn’t hate you.” Alphys tapped Undyne’s ankle gently, figuring that would be the safest place to give a reassuring touch. “He’s just rude all of the time. It’s different.”

“I’m rude all of the time,” Undyne said.

“Yeah but you’re sexy. So it’s okay when you do it.” Alphys said, with an exaggerated wink.

She didn’t think before saying it. They flirted like that all the time. Normally, a comment like that would make Undyne blush, or at least a smile, but this time, something like rage flashed in her eyes.

“I don’t even—!” Undyne stopped herself mid yell, and took a few forced breaths. “Sorry. I’m not mad at you. It’s me. I just. Ugh.” 

She flopped back down, and the exhaustion in her voice was palpable. “I hate being vulnerable. It sucks.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“No,” Undyne said, sounding much more frustrated with herself than Alphys was.

“Air fist bump of affection?” Alphys offered.

Undyne made a sound that was almost a laugh, and raised a fist in Alphys’s general direction.

“Bump.” Alphys said, pantomiming a fist bump, though their hands were at least a foot apart. “Emotional support.”

“Thanks.” Undyne smiled genuinely, though there was still something exhausted in her eyes, and in the way her shoulders drooped. Normally she’d be sitting up with perfect posture to show off the insane height advantage she had. “Love you.”

Alphys made a tiny heart with her fingers, and Undyne copied the gesture.

It felt familiar again. Even if Undyne was clearly going through it, it was still them. They’d been dating for over two years. They could handle this.

“You feeling a little better now?” Alphys asked, tentatively.

Undyne shrugged, and some of the fear crept back into her eyes, but she didn’t look as overwhelmed as before.

“It’s okay. Sometimes you just have those days,” Alphys said, nervously wrapping her tail around her waist. “It feels gross but like, I’m here if you need anything. Or if you want some alone time. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s getting worse,” Undyne mumbled, so quietly that Alphys wasn’t quite sure if she was meant to hear it.

“What was that?”

“It’s…” Undyne rolled back over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow and grumbling something imperceptible before she raised herself up on her strong arms and spoke to the pillow. “I’m getting worse.”

Alphys wasn’t quite sure how to react to that. On the one hand, she had no idea what Undyne was talking about. On the other, she was all-too familiar with that tone of voice. She heard it in her head all the time.

Undyne closed her eyes again, and Alphys tried not to stare too hard at the way her girlfriend’s biceps flexed under her weight, or the way that her sweaty nightshirt clung to her muscular back. She mentally bonked herself on the head for being horny when her girlfriend was having a breakdown.

“Do you want to elaborate on that?” she finally asked, softly. “You don’t have to. I love you no matter what.” 

It still felt weird being the one to comfort others, but she hoped she was getting better. Stars, she hated feeling useless when Undyne was like this.

Undyne stared down at the bed beneath her, digging her claws in deeper.

“Hate emotions,” she grumbled, through gritted teeth. “I’m going to break your bed.”

“Kinky,” Alphys said, before she could stop herself. 

She gasped in horror and threw a hand over her snout. “I’m so sorry! That was a reflex! I’m so stupid, I didn’t mean—”

Undyne started shaking, and it took Alphys a horrifying moment of terror before she realized that Undyne was cackling. 

“Go to,” Undyne wheezed, clutching her chest as she rolled over. “Go to horny lizard jail.”

“Noooo,” Alphys moaned dramatically, “don’t send me away to that wretched place!”

Undyne’s hands were shaky, probably from a combination of the tense emotions of the night and her intense laughter, but she eventually managed to open the bedside table and pull out a monopoly card. The card said “go to jail,” but had the words “horny lizard” written on it in a pink glitter pen. 

“Too late,” Undyne said, handing her the card with a smirk. “Goodbye forever. It was nice knowing you.”

Alphys clutched her heart in mock distress, before smiling mischievously.

“Oh no, I’ve been defeated. Unless…” she reached into her nightgown pocket, and produced an Uno Reverse card.

“Looks like you’ll be going to horny lizard jail,” she said, triumphantly.

Undyne doubled over in uncontrollable laughter, barely managing to get out, “How long have you been carrying that with you?” 

Alphys got ahold of herself first and tried to keep her voice even.

“Since that Monopoly night when I first got sent to horny lizard jail,” she said. “Had to be prepared.”

“You are so weird. I love you so much.”

“Uno reverse,” Alphys said, provoking an actual blush and another round of genuine laughter. It felt so soothing to hear.

They ended up laying on opposite sides of the bed in content silence for a while, occasionally slipping back into bursts of giggles. They had a lot to talk about, but it would probably be best for Undyne if they saved it for the morning. She definitely seemed like she needed rest. And Alphys could feel herself melting into the fluffy sheets.

“Do you want me to turn off the light?” Alphys finally asked.

Undyne hummed a yes, and Alphys clicked the lamp off.

Ten seconds later, Undyne whimpered, kicked off the blankets, and sat up. 

“Babe, are you awake?” she asked desperately.

“It’s been ten seconds since we last spoke, so yeah.”

“Cool. Great. Um, so…”

Alphys turned the light back on, to see Undyne sitting cross-legged and nervously wringing her hands together. The clicking noises in her throat had resumed full force.

“Do you want to have kids?” Undyne asked, a little accusatory. 

Alphys was still blinking in the light, and it took her a second to get her brain working again.

“Not really?” she said. “Being a mom sounds kind of like a nightmare, honestly. I don’t think I should be in charge of children under any circumstances. I’d probably screw them up immediately. I have way too many issues to be trusted with that kind of thing. I’m barely even learning how to take care of myself.”

“Oh, thank God.” Undyne let out a sigh of relief. “Me too. I was worried I was the only one. You seemed like you really wanted babies or whatever… and I’m…” She screamed into her hands. “You know?”

“You’re definitely not alone.” Alphys frowned. “Also, what even made you think I want babies?”

Undyne shrugged. “You seemed so excited about… the kid.” Her voice wavered in a way that Alphys couldn’t quite read. “Plus, we’re like, almost thirty. I think you’re like, supposed to want kids at this point.”

“Plenty of people don’t want to have kids,” Alphys said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah but—Asgore and freaking Maddy definitely want more kids, which is still super weird. And Toriel and Sans have custody of Frisk most of the time. And… even Papyrus wants—and has—a kid, apparently.”

“I guess?” Alphys thought back to the events of the day. Was that the thing that had caused Undyne so much stress?

“Does it seem weird to you?” Undyne asked, her claws tapping her knees through the blanket. “Like, I’m trying not to judge him, because he doesn’t need that, and it’s his life, but like? He really didn’t seem like the type to just freaking have a kid? He always plans obsessively, and, I don’t know? I figured he would have at least told me he wanted to have a kid? And like, he’s entitled to privacy or whatever but like? It’s kind of gross that he kept this from me? And then expected me to be totally cool with it and not have questions?”

It was Alphys’s turn to shrug. 

“I don’t really know Papyrus well, but I’d definitely expect this kind of thing from Mettaton. He’s just like that.”

“Do you think…” Undyne raised a hand to the back of her neck. “I don’t want to be terrible and judgemental to my friends, but… did you get the sense that they’re not telling us everything?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Undyne nodded. She shuddered slightly, rubbing sweat off her arms, and found the remote to turn the fan on.

“Can I…” She turned toward Alphys, looking guilty. “Can I say something that might be a little bit awful and accusatory towards Mettaton?”

“Go ahead.” She was sure it wouldn’t be anything she hadn’t thought before.

“I think…” Undyne chirped anxiously. “I really want to trust that Papyrus would make good decisions and look out for himself, and, maybe I’m being stupid and putting more faith in our friendship than I really should, but—” She growled slightly, ear fins perking up. “I saw him yesterday! I had lunch with him! And I don’t… I can’t believe…”

“Yeah?” Alphys prompted, gently nudging Undyne’s feet with her own.

“Stars, this is gonna sound really bad.”

“Just say it.” Alphys said, with a laugh. “You’ve got me all intrigued now. I gotta know the gossip.”

“I don’t think Papyrus knew about this kid before today,” Undyne said in one breath.

“Oh.” 

The room was silent, except for the slight humming of the fan.

“See, I told you it was terrible, and I’m probably wrong, I just don’t want my friends to be more functional adults than me and I—”

“No. No no no. The thing is. That would actually… That would check out,” Alphys said. “Mettaton would absolutely… ”

She flopped down onto her back in thought.

Mettaton had run away from his family before. Mettaton was terrified of being found out. Mettaton periodically disappeared. Mettaton had told her that he was afraid of commitment. 

“Oh my Stars. You’re definitely right.”

“So, Papyrus seemed really caught off guard by all of this to you too?” 

“I don’t really know him well enough to read him, but—Mettaton is exactly the type of person to have a kid and just not tell anyone, even the other father of his child, because he’s allergic to being vulnerable.”

“I knew I wasn’t crazy.” Undyne punched the mattress. “So like, you think Mettaton hid this and has been raising this kid on his own? Or he sent them off to some fancy boarding school, or something?”

“And something happened last night and he had to take more responsibility so he panicked and decided to spring the news on Papyrus?”

“And Papyrus would be freaking out but he’d try his best to act like this was a normal healthy relationship for the sake of Mettaton’s image because of course he would.”

Alphys tapped her claws on her thighs a little too excitedly. 

“Sorry, I should probably be worried for your friend, but like…” She made jazz hands. “The drama of it all is very entertaining.”

Undyne snorted. “At least it’s them and not us, I guess. Thanks for not springing a secret child on me.”

“You’re welcome. I’m so thoughtful.”

“You are.”

They both stared at the ceiling in thought for a while longer.

“We should do something, though, right?” Undyne said. “It’s not our responsibility to fix their relationship, but—”

“I at least want to study them. Need to know what’s happening. For science, or whatever.”

Undyne nodded seriously. 

“I don’t want to spy on Papyrus, but like. What if he needs my help? I have a responsibility as his best friend to be there for him.”

“Being suspicious of your friends is okay when they are living an actual soap opera,” Alphys said. 

“Lit.” Undyne rolled over, once again scooting close to her girlfriend. “So… What’s our gameplan?”

“Double date?” Alphys offered. “It’s a pretty normal way to hang out. We can see how they interact and get some more data. And maybe get some actual answers?”

“You’re a genius,” Undyne said, and was interrupted by a yawn. “Love your amazing nerd brain.”

“Awww,” Alphys blushed. “Thanks. I try.”

She flicked off the lamp for a second time.

“We can call them and invite them on a date in the morning,” Alphys said decisively. “For now, it’s sleepytimes.”

“Mmhm, sleepys time,” Undyne mumbled, rolling over so she could stick a leg out from under the blankets. “Love you babe. Thanks for all of this.”

“Love you too, and anytime.”

Even if they didn’t end up snuggling, she could hear Undyne’s deep breaths, and feel her shifting slightly as she dreamt. It was one of the most comfortable and relaxing nights of sleep that Alphys had had in a long time.

Chapter Text

The racecar bed was pretty comfortable. Chara hadn’t known what to expect, and considering… everything about Papyrus, they wouldn’t have been surprised if the bed was like, actually just a sheet on top of an array of deadly spikes, or something. Which would have been kind of awesome, admittedly, but less conducive to burying the events of the previous day in a thick layer of unconsciousness.

When they woke, birds were chirping. A beam of sunlight was filtering through the window to glare directly on their eyesockets.

And Frisk was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the foot of the bed, staring directly at them.

Chara jumped, but they were tangled in the sheets, so all that ended up happening was they flopped back onto the pillow.

“What are you doing here?” they demanded before their brain (or whatever the skeleton equivalent was) could catch up to them.

Frisk’s head tilted. They looked a little less certain, their bright grin fading just slightly.

“Is that any way to greet a new cousin?” they still signed with resolve.

Luckily, Chara’s lack of a nose meant their surprised snrrrk of laughter was pretty much silent. 

Great, they’ve started imitating Sans. Bad enough that Asriel—Flowey—used to do that…

Chara pushed those thoughts out of mind. They didn’t need a stomach to feel nauseous, apparently. 

“Who are you,” Chara deadpanned, because playing dumb was how they should’ve started in the first place.

“My name’s Frisk. Frisk the human.” They held out a hand after signing, and Chara had no doubt that a hidden buzzer would appear if they decided to shake it.

“Cool. I don’t have a name,” Chara said, ignoring the bait. 

Frisk frowned. Maybe Chara should’ve fallen for it, just to sell the I-have-definitely-never-met-you-and-have-no-idea-who-you-are of it all.

Unfortunately, Frisk would probably be the most difficult to fool. Chara had assumed that would be Blooky, but that was before they’d known Frisk was still in the picture. Chara hadn’t known if they would have places to go when they returned to the surface. Chara had been gone, laid to rest in the flowers their mother had tended, by then.

Perhaps they should have roleplayed a scenario of their own yesterday. But it was too late now.

“No name. That’s kind of cool.” Frisk grinned again. “When were you born? How were you born? Sans and Papyrus wouldn’t tell me.”

“Tch. You can’t just ask someone how they were born.” Chara rolled their eyes. 

Frisk always was too nosy for their own good. It wasn’t like Chara would want to explain the fabricated tale or the truth of how they’d come into re-existence. 

“Why don’t you answer something instead?” Chara asked. “If you’re my cousin, who are your parents?”

Frisk rocked side to side slightly as they answered.

“Toriel and Asgore. But Mom might as well be married to Sans, so that makes you my cousin on the skeleton side.”

Ah. At least Sans hadn’t completely taken over as Frisk’s dad. Asgore… he must be happy to have a kid again. 

Chara was happy for him. Really.

“You haven’t met them yet, but you’ll love them,” Frisk promised. “Mom is super fluffy and gives the best hugs and is kind of scary sometimes. And Dad was only ever scary one time and now he’s usually just squishy and gross, but like, in a good way. Especially when he’s with Mew Mew.”

“Mew Mew? D—As—the King of Monsters likes anime??” Chara caught themself twice. 

The thought of arguing with their old Dad over whether Mew Mew Kissy Cutie one or two was better broke them just a little bit. Asgore would definitely like One, because he was a huge sap like that. And because that one had snail ice cream in it.

“Huh? No, he likes—wait, you know about anime? You’re a baby, right?” 

“I am not.” Chara crossed their arms. 

They couldn’t tell if Frisk meant that anime was for babies (like Papyrus believed), or if they meant that Chara should be too new to existence to know what anime was. Maybe it was just a trick to make them give up their age, since they’d dodged the question earlier. 

“Are too. Baby baby baby who won’t even tell me how old they are.” 

Was Frisk always this annoying? Chara couldn’t remember. 

Either way, things were different now. Chara had their own hands and arms. And, conveniently, they had a pillow behind them.

They grabbed it and hit Frisk across the face with a dull whump. 

Frisk cackled silently, not even flinching. Then they leapt off the bed, diving for Papyrus’s box of bone attacks. 

“Oh, now that’s fair,” Chara said sarcastically.

Frisk grabbed a bone with one hand and signed with the other.

“Of course it’s fair. You’ve got bones too.”

They lobbed a bone at Chara, who whacked it out of the air with their pillow. 

“Is that any way to greet a new cousin?” Chara mimicked them, before remembering that Fighting was pretty much how Frisk reacted to meeting any new monster. Whether they’d wanted to or not.

Frisk didn’t answer, because both of their hands were now rapidly flinging bones. They didn’t have control over bullet patterns like a real monster would, though, so Chara wasn’t worried at all. 

Chara grinned, letting themself enjoy the impromptu brawl. After all, who else but Frisk would Fight a baby?

“Charging up Pillow Vortex!” Chara announced before leaping from the bed—

And accidentally knocking over a quarter of Papyrus’s action figures with their seven-hundred-twenty degree swing.

“Oops.” They winced at the clatter. Hopefully none of the figures were broken.

A series of thumps ascended outside the door, and Frisk raced to scoop up as many bones as they could. Chara flung the pillow back at the bed, folding their arms behind their back innocently.

The door flung open. To Chara’s surprise, it wasn’t Papyrus.

“Mew Mew!” Frisk dropped the bones again to sign with delight.

Mew—oh.

That Mew Mew.

Maddy. Stabstablook’s cousin.

“Hi, Freak!” Maddy grinned back. 

Water welled in Chara’s eyesockets. Maddy was—she’d done it. Her tail lashed with enthusiasm. Her limbs moved naturally, despite their puppet joints, as she skipped to scoop up Frisk in her arms.

Maddy—Mew Mew—was corporeal. Did Mettaton know?

“And hi, new freak!” Mew Mew shifted Frisk onto one shoulder, tossing Chara up onto the other. “I heard you’re gonna live here too, mew~! Well, under the sink is already taken! Taken! TAKEN!!”

“I don’t think they want to live under the sink,” Frisk told her, giggling.

“Actually, that would be cool,” Chara said. Then they wouldn’t be in Papyrus's way, too. 

“You’d get eaten by the dog,” Frisk signed. 

“Oh.” Maybe not cool, then.

“I won’t be leaving my babybones to the teeth of that wicked canine!” Papyrus announced, finally appearing in the doorway. “Also, Maddy! The sign says no girls allowed.”

He pointed to the sign in question, which hung on his open door. 

No girls allowed! No boys allowed! Papyrus allowed.

“Fine. Fine! FINE!!” She carried Chara and Frisk one step outside of the room, looking pleased with herself. 

“Thank you!” Papyrus nodded in approval.

“You’re welcome, mew~! And you’re welcome for stopping these two weirdos before they broke all your toys!”

“My—?” 

Chara flinched as Papyrus bolted into the room, but for some reason, he relaxed upon seeing the mess.

“Oh. Worry not, cartoon feline who lives under my sink! There is a reason they are called ‘action figures.’ It would be a misnomer if action took them out of action!” 

Frisk snorted at that. Chara would’ve snorted if they’d been human, or otherwise had a nose. 

“I… should probably have you pick those up, though? At least, I think that is what a responsible mom would do…”

Chara hopped down from Mew Mew’s shoulder, picking up the fallen figures faster than Papyrus could say “WOWIE!!”

“My skeletiny is already so well behaved!” he said proudly. 

It was the least Chara could do. They were a little jealous that Frisk got to ride up on Mew Mew’s shoulders alone now, though.

Not that Chara deserved to be up there with them. Mew Mew must have thought Stabstablook was dead, after their sudden disappearance—when they’d become trapped in Frisk’s body during their first encounter, all the way back in the RUINS. The thought of telling her, of letting her know her cousin had been so close all along, made Chara’s ribcage feel tight.

Frisk deserved her. Frisk had been able to help her come close to corporeality, and apparently they had eventually succeeded. 

Chara trailed down the stairs behind the three of them, barely hearing the talk of breakfast and new beds. 

“Woah. WOAH!” Mew Mew—no, Maddy, Frisk and Papyrus had still called her both—caught Chara’s hand as they stumbled on the last step. “You’re corporeal, bucko! That means you have to pay attention to your feet! Or else you’ll smash your face against the ground and knock out all your teeth. Which hurts.”

“She’s speaking from experience,” Frisk signed discreetly behind Maddy’s head. 

Chara didn’t doubt that. They wished they’d been here to see it.

Mettaton was still charging on the couch, eyes closed, when they passed through the living room to the dining table. Did he know Maddy was here? She was still so much herself; surely he’d recognized her. Had she recognized him? But, if she had, then wouldn’t she have said something…?

Breakfast wasn’t any kind of pasta, to Chara’s surprise. It was pancakes. Pancakes in the shape of each of their faces, which was… actually kind of sweet. Though they were all piled together for anyone to take, Chara only took the ones with their own skeleton grin on them. It would feel too weird to eat Maddy or Frisk. 

Frisk must not have had the same qualms, because they took one of each type of pancake.

“Did you have a good cruise in snoozeville, babybones?” Papyrus asked them over his own stack of syrupy Papyrus and Mettaton faces. 

“It was quite pleasant. Thank you.” 

Maddy gave them a weird look. 

“You’re too polite to be Metta-dumb’s kid,” she said through a mouthful of pancakes in the shape of her face. 

“Um… thank you?” Chara didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t give them away.

Maddy just laughed.

“Ha! See, the freak agrees with me!” She pointed at them while staring at Papyrus. “You should let me and Asgore take them home and love and cherish them. We’d teach them how to be SO polite and how to love their family and not run away and hide forever and break the non-existent hearts of everyone who ever cared about them.”

Chara’s eyelights fizzled out. At least, that was what they thought was happening, because they didn’t close their eyesockets, but everything went fuzzy and dark for a moment. 

She knew. She knew they’d left her, she knew and she was heartbroken and—she still wanted them back?

Their pancakes felt stuck in their throat. Too much syrup.

“Maddy…?” They blinked up at her. 

She wasn’t looking at them, though. She had turned her head three-hundred-sixty degrees to glare at Mettaton.

Oh. Oh. She knew… the other secret. Mettaton’s secret.

She didn’t want Chara to turn out like him.

They laughed quietly, a hollow clacking of bones. They were already more like Mettaton than she could know.

“Wowie. That was, um, quite a passionate suggestion!” Papyrus clapped, syrup sticking his gloves together slightly.  “But, I will have to decline, because, um, the skeletiny is my child. And. They are already polite. And I already care about them.”

“You’ll just have to share,” Frisk signed before patting Maddy on the shoulder.

“Ugh. I already have to share you. What does it take to get my own baby I can love and cherish around here??”

“You should ask Papyrus. Since he definitely already figured it out.” Frisk grinned and laced their fingers on the table, staring at Papyrus with rapt attention.

Papyrus’s skull began to sweat.

“There will be no sexual education until after breakfast! And lunch! And dinner! And… many more meals after that, probably!!” 

Chara snickered, before Maddy’s words from before finally clicked.

“Wait, Asgore?” they almost choked. “You want to have babies with—”

They gagged. They couldn’t even say it. It was too weird, their cousin and their dad, and their dad and anyone who wasn’t their mom, except that would be too weird too now…

“I do! And I will!!” Maddy banged the butt of her fork against the table, making a loud enough noise to finally wake Mettaton from his charging cycle.

“I do…” he sighed dreamily before snorting back into full consciousness. “Wha? Where am—oh.”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, both normal and laser. As soon as he processed Maddy, he scowled.

“Hello, Mew Mew.”

“Hey, Mettatdumb! Horrible morning to you, mew~”

“She’s trying to kidnap your baby,” Frisk signed, because they were a rude little demon who just had to egg on the drama in Chara’s family.

“I’d like to see her try. Hussy.” Mettaton stood up and unplugged himself.

“Mettaton! Not in front of the children,” Papyrus stage whispered.

“Only that one is a baby,” Frisk signed, pointing to Chara. “I can say hussy.”

Chara didn’t bother arguing with that, or asking where Frisk had learned the sign for the word. They were distracted enough by the ice entering their bones.

Apparently the animosity Maddy felt for Mettaton was mutual. They’d always gotten into arguments on the farm, but… they were family. If this was how they reacted to knowing the other was hiding their true identity, that they’d run and never fully come back…

Well. Chara would just have to hide so well, she would never find out. There… wasn’t another option.

(Not one that wouldn’t tear Chara’s bones apart, anyway.)

Chapter Text

They got through breakfast without anyone dying, which was probably the most that Papyrus could hope for, all things considered. Well, he had also hoped that Mettaton wouldn’t wake up until Mew Mew had already left to go… wherever she went when she wasn’t under the sink. Maybe she went to run her casino that she’d set up directly across from Mettaton’s hotel. Maybe she went to smooch Asgore in his flower gardens on the other side of town. It wasn’t any of Papyrus’s business, except now Mettaton apparently also lived here, and those two…

Well. He loved flames and deadly spikes, but their seething glares were something even more dangerous. Especially to young children! No babybones should have to deal with so much turmoil in their home!

Maybe Papyrus should finally kick Maddy out from under the sink. But she was so effective at keeping that rotten canine away, or at least contained. Papyrus had only had his bones gnawed and/or stolen twice since she’d moved in two years ago! That was only once per year!!

No, he couldn’t kick out Maddy. He would just have to adapt his wonderful monster-human liaison powers into monster-monster liaison powers! If anyone was fit for the task, it was the Great Papyrus!

The Great Papyrus sometimes wished—secretly, shamefully—that he didn’t have to be so great.

Fortunately, Mew Mew whisked off to wherever after breakfast, leaving behind a big, syrupy smooch on Frisk’s forehead. Then Toriel arrived to pick Frisk up for school, and it was just Papyrus and the babybones and Mettaton again.

(No Sans this morning. He convinced himself not to be worried about that. It wasn’t like Sans was particularly present on normal mornings, after all!)

"Well! That was… breakfast!” Papyrus said, since he wasn’t sure he could call it ‘nice’ or ‘fun.’ He dunked their dishes in the sink, hovering a few feet in the air in order to reach its height. “Would you like to see your new bedroom, babybones?”

“Bedroom?” the child and Mettaton asked in unison.

“Of course! That’s the only room in which to put a bed!!”

Papyrus took both of their hands (still feeling a tingle of electricity at Mettaton’s, despite his background annoyance with the man) and pulled them up the stairs. 

“Am I getting Sans’s room after all?” the skeletiny asked. 

“And risk you being swept away in a tornado of trash? I would never be so irresponsible! No, your room is brand new and properly outfitted with everything a skeleton child could need… that I remember,” Papyrus admitted. It had been some time since he’d been a skeletiny himself, after all. “I hope you like it!”

The new room was at the end of the hall, where the balcony used to be. Papyrus had constructed the walls and roof last night after putting together the beds. 

“I didn’t hear you building anything last night…” the child said dubiously.

“Yes, yes, I turned off the sound effects. It would have ruined the surprise otherwise!” Papyrus twisted the doorknob with a flourish and pushed the door open. 

The skeletiny’s sockets went wide as they stepped into their new living space. Papyrus laced his fingers together, trying to keep them from tapping with nervousness as they inspected the room.

There was a bed, of course. It was brown and made of wood, with a gray comforter and sheets. Fairly generic, all things considered, but Papyrus didn’t know the babybones’ preferences yet. Best to go simple and safe and let them decorate with more detail later. 

A rug, a bookshelf (full of picture books and educational tomes unpacked from storage), a nightstand with a lamp (the lava lamp Sans had gotten Papyrus as a joke, for how much he hated Hotland), a skull-and-crossbones flag (the new skeleton needed a mark of familial love and pride!), and a standing mirror (which had just felt right, for some reason) completed the room. The babybones stood in the middle of it all, contemplating each item with wonder.

“It’s a little drab, isn’t it?” Mettaton asked. So quick to judge his work, when he hadn’t even found the secret spike panel yet! 

The skeletiny whacked his arm.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Mom.” He couldn’t tell if they meant it, or if they were just being polite. 

“I-I didn’t know what you’d like, so I left it a little plain.” He grinned, trying to draw back some of his natural confidence. “But don’t worry! There will be plenty of time to add pizazz! …So long as it is not by adding pizzas. In fact, I think I should instate a ‘ground rule.’ No eating food upstairs. And especially no throwing food.”

“Very well.” They nodded politely.

Papyrus squinted a little. They were almost too well behaved. Or maybe he was just too used to dealing with Sans.

“Oh dear. Would you look at the time.” Mettaton winced, looking at his wrist. An analogue clock popped out of a panel there. “I’m so sorry, beauties, but I must be off to the news station. You’ll behave for Mom while I’m gone, won’t you, skeletiny?”

Papyrus’s eyes widened again. He had to—? But of course he did. Mettaton had a very important job, just like Papyrus. Luckily, the Anatomy class didn’t need him today—they’d moved on to muscles and organs—and the Figure Drawing class wasn’t scheduled for Wednesdays. He didn’t have any urgent responsibilities until tomorrow. 

Mettaton didn’t know that, though. He could have asked first.

“I don’t think I’m the one you should worry about.” The child shot Mettaton a look that might have been a glare. 

“I will behave myself as well!” Papyrus promised. 

“He shouldn’t be worried about you, either,” the child muttered. They were probably irritated at being blown off and left with someone who was still practically a stranger to them.

As much as Papyrus didn’t want to be a stranger, and the best way to become less strange was to spend time together, it did feel, well… rude.

Mettaton was rude. There was no reasoning around it.

“Fabulous! I will see you this afternoon, then! Toodles!” Mettaton blew Papyrus a kiss (complete with a visible floating heart) before blasting off down the hall with his rocket boots.

Papyrus cupped his cheekbone with a sigh. What he wouldn’t give for a kiss from Mettaton under better, less annoying circumstances…

“Sorry about him.” The skeletiny sighed too. “I assure you, I am capable of taking care of myself for any duration of time. I will not interfere with any duties you have to attend to.”

“ Nonsense! As your mom, you are my most important duty.” Papyrus put his hands on his hips. He’d worn his battle body today—he needed the extra confidence boost it gave—and his scarf flared behind him dramatically. 

“Tch. There’s no one around, you know. You don’t have to pretend.” The babybones hopped up on the edge of their bed. Their bare feet swung several inches above the floor. 

Papyrus glanced towards the mirror. Maybe he hadn’t just brought it in because it “felt right.” 

Dad… if you’re there, I could use some fatherly support. Or grandfatherly support. Any kind of support would be appreciated, really.

There might have been a flicker of darkness in the glass. It might have just been his imagination.

“Babybones… I know this must all be very sudden for you.” Papyrus took a step closer to them, but didn’t sit. He wouldn’t want to spook them. “A new home… a new family… well, it’s a lot!”

They shrugged.

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Or the second,” they murmured. 

Papyrus’s head tilted. Was that… an invitation to talk about it?

“What is it they say? ‘Third time’s the charm’?” He forced a grin. 

“I think we’re past three, too.” They sighed, flopping back on the comforter with their arms spread wide.

"Ah… if I could ask… how old are you, exactly?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. And everyone else too. Ugh.” 

Papyrus grimaced. 

“We should probably decide what to tell them. It doesn’t have to be the truth! But. It will be difficult to convince them I am an attentive mother if I don’t know the age of my own child.”

“Ughhhh. Yeah, you’re right.” The skeletiny sat up and looked at him. “You’re the skeleton expert. How old do I look like I am?”

"Ah. Well! That. Does depend. On how you were born.” Papyrus tapped his fingertips together.

Skeletons animated from human remains would often begin life around the age of the deceased person. It could be rather jarring, he’d read, for skeletons animated from human adults. Luckily, he and Sans had both begun life as children around the age of nine or so. This skeletiny looked similar in size and build, so if they had been born directly from another skeleton monster, that would mean they had experienced life as a monster for around nine years. That seemed an unrealistic guess—surely Papyrus would have somehow come across another skeleton in all that time! Besides, they were Mettaton’s family, and Mettaton himself was only created around three years ago. 

How did the babybones come to call Mettaton family? Papyrus assumed it was by adoption in some way, but he couldn’t even begin to guess the details.

“Everyone keeps asking me that, too. Or, well, just Frisk, I guess.” They gave another dramatic sigh. “Do most monsters remember being born?”

“I am not sure about ‘most monsters’... however, I do. Remember, that is.” His gaze darted to the mirror again. 

“You do??”

“You don’t?”

“No, I… I do.” They admitted, looking away. 

They folded their arms, tangling the stripes of their sweater—red and blue today. One of Sans’s old shirts Papyrus had preserved for sentimental reasons. With their squatter, rounder form, they looked so much like he had as a child. Not that Sans had truly gotten much time to be a child…

Once Dad had… disappeared, Sans had basically raised Papyrus. Now Papyrus had the chance to pay that love forward. 

He hoped he would do half as good of a job as his brother had.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” they mumbled.

Papyrus nodded. He’d expected that.

"It might be nice. Not to remember,” he said quietly, finally deciding to sit on the bed—though keeping a respectful distance between them. “There’s nothing. And then suddenly, you’re Something. At least human babies get to gurgle and cry! They get a whole year of not making sense before anyone expects anything from them!”

The skeletiny chuckled at that.

“Human babies are lucky, huh? I think it would be pretty tough to not be able to talk again, though.”

"Again?” He tried not to sound too eager. It was just—right there, under his non-existent nose! Answers about skeletons, and if they were like him, and if they remembered and if he might have been—

It wouldn’t matter, he reminded himself forcefully. He was the Great Papyrus. Whatever he’d been—if he’d been anything, or anyone!—was long gone and buried.

“Uh.” The babybones grunted. “Again, because… it’s complicated.”

"You don’t have to—” 

“Actually, I think I do.” They sighed. “Like it or not, I can’t pull this off without you. And Mettaton already knows, and he’s way more of a blabbermouth than you are. So, uh…”

Papyrus tried to quiet his bones from rattling.

“...I’m a ghost.” They made a jazz hands motion, rattling their own metacarpals. 

“Like Napperhog?” he asked, getting Napstablook’s name wrong on purpose. It was a nickname now that they’d become friends. 

The babybones burst out a laugh.

“Yeah. Like Napperhog.” They smiled. “Only, I possessed a skeleton. Not—not an alive one, like you,” they assured him quickly. “A dead one. Uh. A human one. I think. It was an accident, I don’t really even know—yeah.”

Their jaw snapped shut. Papyrus tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his ribcage.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” The babybones—babyghost?—nodded.

So that was why they could still remember things. They probably weren’t even a baby at all. They didn’t sound like they were older than Papyrus, but he’d never been great at judging ages. It had taken over a day for him to learn that Frisk was a child, embarrassingly. He’d thought the stripes on their sweater were just to make them appear less intimidating!

“Well… you’re right. That is complicated! But I already claimed you as my family, so there will be no taking backs!”

The child looked up at him, their eyelights brightening a little.

“Thanks… Mom.” They smiled. “Sorry I’m not a real skeleton, though. I mean…” They waved at the skull-and-crossbones flag, “you must have been excited to meet another one. Right?”

“Nyeh heh. Was it that obvious?” He tugged at his scarf. 

“I don’t know. Maybe you always try this hard to make a good impression.”

"Did I make a good impression?”

The babybones laughed.

“ Is that even a question? Come on.” They waved to the rest of the room. “You did all this. In one night. You’re like, Buddy the elf or something.”

“Well, I did live in Snowdin for quite some time.” He beamed. “You like Gyftmas—er, Christmas movies?”

“The funny ones.” They nodded. 

“Me too! I can’t wait to find out what else you like!!” 

“Huh? Uh. I like… yellow. Yellow’s a good color.” They nodded again, as if just now deciding on that. “And I like anime. Which isn’t for babies.”

"I never said it was!” he lied. Who had told them that? Alphys, probably.

“Heheh. Uh. What else… heh. Sorry, nobody’s asked me this in a while…”

“It’s okay! You have all the time you need to remember! Since you’re staying here for… um. Forever?” He frowned. “No, babybones eventually grow up into adultbones…”

They laughed at that, but it sounded a little hollow.

“Sorry. Again.”

He pressed a gloved fingertip to their teeth.

“There shall be no more apologizing! I, the Great Papyrus, welcome you with open arms! No matter what type of skeleton you are, we are bound by periosteum and marrow! Both of which are thicker than blood! Nyeh heh heh!!!”

That got a more genuine grin out of them. Good! They appreciated a clever bit of wordage! 

"If you are a different type of skeleton, however… hrrm. Will you end up having a font?” He rubbed his chin. “You sound like you have a proto-font, like a normal babybones… well, as normal as Sans and myself were, at least!”

“I do? I wasn’t sure either.”

“Well, there’s one way we can try to find out! And it might help us discover how old you are, too!” Papyrus sprung to his feet, quickly plucking a book from the bookshelf and opening it on the floor. 

The babybones joined him, sitting cross-legged in contrast to how he was splayed on his stomach. They leaned over the book and tried to read it upside-down.

“Is that just an index of fonts?” they asked.

“Yes! It’s an essential item in any skeleton household,” Papyrus answered, despite not knowing any other skeleton households, technically. He flipped the book around so that the skeletiny could read it more easily. “When I was young, Dad had me read aloud from this very index until my font stabilized. I’m sure if you have a font—which I truly believe you will!—you will find it in here.”

The babybones’ head tilted a little. At first Papyrus thought they were going to question his methods, but then they asked—

“You have a dad?”

“Um. Y-yes?” He coughed. 

He tried to avoid mentioning Dad most of the time, since—well, it was embarrassing not to remember the skeleton who had raised him! And then there were questions, and there was always the chance Sans would realize that Papyrus knew more than he did and feel bad, and…

Papyrus missed talking about Dad, though. Sometimes, it felt like what little he still remembered would slip right out of his skull.

“Skeletons don’t need to cough.” The skeletiny narrowed their eyesockets.

“Ahem!? Who is the skeleton expert here??” Papyrus reminded them. “If a skeleton is coughing, it is for very normal, very reasonable biological reasons! So nyeh!”

The babybones laughed at that. Thankfully, they didn’t press him. 

He did want to talk about Dad, but… not yet. It might not inspire confidence for them to know their Mom was mostly winging it, here. Toriel’s very good and useful advice aside!

“So what, I just start reading?” they asked.

“Correct! Read through the list out loud—and put your whole soul into it! You’ll know when one font feels different from the rest.”

“Out loud?” They grimaced. “Alright… if you say so.”

They cleared their throat.

“Aharoni, Arahoni Bold, Aldhabi, Andalus, Angsana New, Angsana UPC, AngsanaUPC Bold Italic, Ap… Apa, uh, Aparajita…?”

“That’s right!”

They smiled a little.

“Arabic Typesetting, Arial, Arial Bold, Arial Black, Bahnschrift…”

Papyrus smiled back, propping himself up on his elbows. He needed to watch closely, too, in case the skeletiny couldn’t identify their font by feeling alone. When a skeleton’s font began to solidify, the words would appear like a heat haze in the air. It was imperceptible to other monsters and humans, but a discerning skeleton like himself would be able to spot it easily!

“...Calibri, Calibri Light, Calisto MT, Cambria, Cambria Bold, Cambria Math, Candara, Cascadia Code, Cascadia Code SemiLight, Century Gothic, Comic Sans MS…”

Papyrus breathed a sigh of relief when no text appeared. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if there were two Comic Sanses in the family. Though there was still a very high chance the skeletiny would have a sans-serif font of some sort… but, as long as they didn’t go by the “Sans” portion of the font name, it wouldn’t be too confusing. 

“ ...DFKai-SB, DokChampa, Dotum, DotumChe, Ebrima, Ebrima Bold… Euphemia, FangSong, that sounds cool. Too bad it doesn’t actually look cool…”

“You skipped Estrangelo Edessa and EucrosiaUPC. And EucrosiaUPC Bold.”

“Those looked boring,” the skeletiny grumbled, and then their eye sockets widened. “I mean—this is very important, and I am grateful that you are taking the time to help me—”

“Nyeh heh heh! You made it farther than I did on your first try.”

“I did?” They blinked.

“Only by about seven fonts. I was very studious, I’ll have you know!” He sat up, holding a hand to his chest proudly. “My font was all the way in the P’s, and I still found it before Sans found his.”

The skeletiny stared down at the book blankly.

“What if mine starts with, like, Z…? Or if I don’t end up having a font at all, and this is all a waste of time?”

“Then at least it will be time wasted together, right?” Papyrus smiled. “I wouldn’t worry, though. I don’t know any fonts that start with Z! Except Zapf Dingbats. Which isn’t even in this book. But if you had a Dingbats font, we would already know it.”

The skeletiny scrunched their browbone. Maybe it was because they were previously a ghost, but they were far more expressive than Sans and Papyrus had been at their age. Far more expressive than Sans at his current age, too.

“Certain fonts are made up of symbols,” Papyrus explained. “They don’t translate well into speech. It can take a skeleton monster with a natural symbol font years to learn how to talk! So they usually use sign language, instead. You could understand Frisk, so I assume you are already familiar with that.”

The child nodded, looking thoughtful. Before they could voice whatever they were thinking, though, Papyrus’s phone rang. 

It was a remix of wrestling grunts and suplexing noises. He scrambled to take the phone out of his tight battle body pocket.

“Undyne! Hello!” He started to sweat. At least if she was calling him, it must mean he hadn’t completely ruined their friendship by having a secret child! Probably!!

The skeletiny perked up, probably trying to eavesdrop on whatever Undyne would say. Children were awfully nosy like that. Even the noseless ones!

They wouldn’t have to try, though. Undyne’s voice was loud enough that it was like she was always on speakerphone.

“ Hey, punk!!” Undyne said in a voice that somehow managed to feel like she was noogieing him already. “ Me and Alphys had an awesome idea!!! You’re gonna love it!!!!!”

“I am?”  

“Yeah you are! We’re going on a double date!”

“A—huh?”

“You, me, my super hot babe, and your super annoying overgrown toaster! It’ll be a blast, so I won’t take no for an answer! Fuhuhuhu!”

A double date!? Under normal circumstances, that would be a dream come true! Papyrus had long wanted to hang out with Undyne and Doctor Alphys without being a third wheel! 

But Papyrus knew quite a bit about traps. This certainly was one.

He wiped his browbone on the back of his glove.

“Um?? Would you take ‘maybe’ for an answer??” 

“Maybe if maybe means yes!”

“I-it doesn’t have to be right now,” Alphys’s voice interjected more quietly. “We were, um, planning a slumber party, but like, in the daytime? Mettaton loves those. I-it would be rude not to invite you guys! A-and, it’ll be at m-my house, so, you won’t have to worry about g-going out in public or anything…”

Papyrus winced. That was… very thoughtful. He was thoroughly trapped by social niceties! His second-greatest weakness!!

“When is it?” Papyrus asked. 

“Two weekends from now!” Undyne answered.

The skeletiny nodded. “Good. We can work with that.”

“Can we??” He whispered.

“I wanted to do it tomorrow, but Alphys is busy playing Dungeons and Dragons with Bratty and Catty and the Libarbrian…”

Why couldn’t they have invited Papyrus to that instead?

“W-we’re all busy adults!” Alphys coughed. “S-so, if you’re busy, we can pick a day that works better for you! But! We’re r-really excited!”

Papyrus wasn’t busy. He didn’t work on weekends, and usually only had plans if he made them with Undyne or Sans. Well, except now he had a child, so—

“Who is going to watch the skeletiny if Mettaton and I are both with you?” he asked. Hopefully the answer was something like Drat, we didn’t think about that, guess we’ll just have to cancel and never hang out again! 

…No, that would be worse. That would be a lot worse.

“Asgore already said he will. You’re not getting out of this that easy!” 

“...Have you checked with Mettaton?” Papyrus asked, grasping for one last excuse.

"Nah. I don’t really care if he’s busy,” Undyne said.

Truth be told, a petty part of Papyrus would like to inconvenience him a little. If only so they were on even footing in this not-relationship.

"He doesn’t have any shows scheduled that day,” Alphys said more helpfully.

“Then… okay! Since ‘no’ is not an available dialogue option!!” 

“Great! I knew you’d say yes! Fuhuhuhu!”

“Th-thanks, Papyrus…!”

The call ended shortly after that, and Papyrus flopped back on the rug, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Wow.” The skeletiny lied down beside him. “This should be fun.”

“I hope so.” He sighed.

“Chin up, Mom. I’ll make sure you’re ready before the big day.” 

That probably meant more roleplaying. Well, at least that was fun. Acting with Mettaton was quite exhilarating when there wasn’t an audience!

“Yes, I’m sure we’ll both do spectacularly!” Papyrus said, breathing back in some optimism. “But for now, we must return to today! Are you ready to continue?”

He expected them to want a longer break, but he’d underestimated their determination.

“Exactly how long did it take you to find your name?” The skeletiny sat up and dragged the textbook into their lap.

“I… don’t actually remember,” Papyrus admitted. “I’m sorry. My childhood was a bit long ago!”

And chunks of it were missing entirely, thanks to Dad’s accident. But Papyrus didn’t want to bog the babybones down with that right now.

“Hmm. Then I’d better start working if I want to beat your forgotten record.”

Papyrus laughed. Leave it to his babybones to attempt the impossible!

And impossible it was. Papyrus prepared snacks and lunch, which the skeletiny quickly scarfed down (downstairs, because Papyrus had made a rule, and he was going to be consistent about it!) in between reading aloud. Sometimes not even between; they carried the textbook with them and read the M’s and N’s through mouthfuls of popato wedges and sand witches. 

“Don’t forget to pace yourself! It’ll be difficult to feel your font if your mandible is full!”

The skeletiny swallowed and smiled sheepishly. Then they continued reading while Papyrus kept rapt attention. 

The P’s passed without incident as well. Papyrus knew better than to hope that his not-child would share his font, but it was also impossible not to wonder. 

“Sitka Heading, Sitka Small, Sitka Subheading, Sitka Text, Sylfaen, S…Symbol…? Tahoma, Times New Roman—”

They cut off abruptly. Papyrus thought he’d seen something—a few scattered letters? Not the font’s full name, however. He was probably imagining things. 

“Times New Roman?” they repeated again. “Times New Roman Bold, Times New Roman Italic, Times New Roman Bold Italic?”

Wisps of the letters appeared, but jumbled together, and more than a few missing. The tone didn’t snap into place with the clarity of a true font.

“Almost, but not quite.” Papyrus shook his head, and their expression fell.

“It felt so close…” They squeezed their sockets and fists shut. 

He patted their back gently.

“It did. But, sometimes that happens! Especially with how long you’ve been reading. There’s no shame in taking a break!”

“Fine. That would’ve been a boring font, anyway,” they sighed. “Let’s do something where I don’t have to talk. You have any good movies?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do!!”

Instead of a movie—good or otherwise—they ended up watching the news. Which Papyrus taped every morning, for normal reasons that had nothing to do with wanting to listen to Mettaton’s voice!

“He looks like he’s having a good time,” the skeletiny said quietly as Mettaton taste-tested QC’s new Butterscotch Bun on the TV. Toriel had been helping her with that recipe for a couple weeks now. 

It looked like the hard work had paid off—Mettaton announced that it was “ Absolutely fabulous! Though, have you considered adding sequins?”

“I’m sure he is.” Papyrus chuckled.

“Are you still mad at him?” 

“What? Who said I was mad?” He tapped his fingers nervously on the arm of the couch. “Your dad and I are in a perfectly happy relationship!”

“Pfft. You don’t have to play pretend around me, you know.” The babybones smiled, leaning their skull on the opposite armrest. “He’s my… family. I know he’s hard to get along with.”

How long have you known him? Papyrus wanted to ask. 

“I’m sure he’s trying his best,” he said instead. 

“ That’s the hard part. This is his best.” They sighed. “At least, I think it is.”

“Well, our best is all we can do!”

“But what about when your best isn’t good enough?” they insisted. “What about when you try and try, and you still end up hurting the people you care about?”

Papyrus sat up a little straighter. He had a feeling this wasn’t about Mettaton, now. 

“You’re not hurting anyone, babybones.” 

Their eyesockets widened.

“But—”

“No butts! We’re skeletons! We don’t have those!!”

They coughed out a laugh.

“Tailbone?” they said instead.

“Much better! We’ll make a true skeleton of you yet!!”

With that pep talk, they were ready to go back to work. Once in their room again, they picked up the textbook and continued to rattle off fonts like their life depended on it. Papyrus had to ask them to slow down and enunciate more than once.

But eventually…

“Verdana… Vijaya… Vijaya Bold… Vrinda… Webdings… Wingdings…” The skeletiny’s voice shook as the neared the end of the font index. “Yu Gothic… Yu Gothic Light, Yu Gothic Medium, Yu Gothic UI…”

Papyrus clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He’d truly expected the babybones’ font to emerge by now. Verdana had been his best last hope; the skeletiny hardly seemed like a Yu Mincho or Yu Mincho Demibold.

And they weren’t. They finished out the index with their same childish accent, the shifting of a font that refused to settle.

“I… did I miss one…?” They stared up at him desperately. 

“...Maybe?”

Papyrus practically had the book memorized—it had been a special interest as a babybones, even after he’d found his own font. He’d thought it would be fun to try learning others, like Sans sometimes could, but Papyrus’s own accent was too thick for it. 

The point being, if one font had been out of place, Papyrus should have caught it. Unless it was when he was preparing food for them and had been too distracted?

Their shoulders hunched, their skull retreating between them.

“I told you,” they murmured. “I told you I was going to let you down.”

“Nonsense!!” Papyrus leapt to his feet and started pacing. 

The one thing Toriel had stressed was most important in parenting a child was to make sure they knew they were loved. Clearly the skeletiny was already worried about being a burden, about hurting him. Which was ridiculous! Even if the babybones didn’t have a font at all, they wouldn’t let him down. But Papyrus could tell they wouldn’t believe that right now. So, he wanted to find a solution that they would believe!

He snapped his fingers, adding the sound effect manually.

“This textbook is outdated, anyway!! Come along, there are more fonts yet to be found!!!”

He tugged them up by the arm and dragged them towards his room. His computer sat at the desk in the corner, just waiting to be searched.

“Wait… how does that even work?” the babybones asked as he pulled out the chair for them. “When humans make more fonts, do skeletons end up being born with them? Or do humans make fonts after what skeletons sound like? Or something else entirely?”

“You know… I have no idea!!” 

“Dang. Oh well.” They cracked their knuckles. “So what are we doing?”

“Finding more fonts on the internet!” He grinned, resting his chin on their skull and reaching around them to type on the keyboard.

“‘Coolest fonts ever?’” the babybones read off his search query.

“What better way to find a font for the coolest babybones ever?”

“I don’t know about that…” They blushed a little, an impressive ability for a skeleton so young. “Why don’t we try looking up new fonts?”

That was probably a better plan. Unfortunately, it still gave them over a million search results.

“Great. This is even longer than a textbook.” They sighed. “I didn’t know they’d made so many since Windows 98.”

“Humans try to imitate our greatness in new ways all the time.” Papyrus squinted, scrolling down the page. “Though this does seem a little… excessive.”

“ Wait wait wait. Click on that one.” The babybones pointed at the screen, where a link read Download Weirdest New Fonts For Font Fans.

“I guess we are font fans.” Papyrus clicked on it.

The skeletiny immediately started snickering. 

“Shlop Regular?” They looked up at him, eyelights as bright as their grin. 

"A worthy attempt.” He nodded soberly, hiding his gratitude that his child would not be named Shlop. 

“Dang it,” they huffed. “I was really hoping for that one.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be searching from this particular website?” He tried to click the back button, but the babybones snatched the computer mouse.

“We gotta,” they insisted, scrolling down and laughing again. “Heavy Heap. Frisky Puppy Regular.”

“We can’t have two Frisks in the family,” Papyrus said.

“ It would be hilarious, though. No, wait, this one’s even better— Ghost Meat.”

That one looked like each letter was made out of marshmallow. Thankfully, those letters didn’t appear in the air either.

Papyrus grimaced. “These don’t even sound like real words. Are you sure you don’t want to try something more traditional? You seemed so close with Times New Roman.”

“GF Thorns, MS Paint Mouse Regular, Grooven Shine, Street Blup…”

“Are you listening at all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Gargle Ex-Rg-Bold, Ghost Theater, Green Fuz Regular—”

"Do you hear yourself? Do you really want to be named ‘Gargle,’ or ‘Green Fuz’—”

“ Well I don’t really get to pick, do I?” they huffed. “The font picks me, or whatever. Ugh. You’re probably right, this is pointle— wait.”

They broke out into a maniacal cackle at the font they had just scrolled to reveal. Papyrus felt all the marrow drain from his face.

“No.”

“Oh, yes.” Their grin was the wicked type that humans always imagined on skeletons. “Times New Bastard.”

Papyrus wanted to close his eyes. He’d known it, felt it, as soon as he’d seen the font—could it even be called a font? It was just Times New Roman, but every seventh letter was jarringly sans-serif!

The universe decided it counted. The letters hovered in the air above the skeletiny’s head as they spoke.

“The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog,” they said, testing out the feel of each letter. They continued to hover there, mocking him.

Papyrus sighed the most bone weary sigh of his entire life. Was this what Toriel had meant when she said no monster was ever truly prepared for parenthood?

He glanced towards the mirror, where a shadow flickered. He could swear Dad was laughing.

“This is it. It’s really my own font. Wow. It feels… like I’ve been trying to hit a high note, and now I can sing it easily. Is that how it felt for you?”

Papyrus tried to bury his own disappointment, his own shame. Here his skeletiny was, excited and eager to share in skeleton culture, and Papyrus was—he was doing exactly what he’d promised not to do!

“Y-yes!” He forced a grin. “Or like you’ve been shouting yourself hoarse to be heard, and now you can speak normally!”

They laughed at that. 

“You? Shouting? I can’t imagine.” The letters still floated in the air, and they reached up to poke at them. 

Of course, their finger went right through. Eventually—likely in a couple weeks or so—the visible words would disappear, leaving their font only legible in battle with a *CHECK *ACT, or to other skeletons with the synesthetic sixth sense that such syntax required. 

“You don’t have to imagine! You’ve felt it too, now!” Papyrus clapped them on the shoulder.

And then, of course, they asked the question he had been dreading.

“So… are you gonna call me Bastard now?” They grinned.

He couldn’t hide his wince well enough.

“What? Too soon?” Their smile drooped. “I’m… look, you’re not even… you didn’t give birth to me. I’m not trying to, like, slut shame you or anything.”

“You and Frisk both,” Papyrus muttered, then blinked. 

Ugh! He couldn’t even keep his impolite thoughts to himself. No wonder his child had turned out to be a Bastard!

"I am sorry, skeletiny. Truly.” He squeezed their hands, so small against his red gloves. “This is your font. Your moment. Of course I will call you whatever name you choose.”

“But you’d be happier if it wasn’t something that made you look bad.”

"It doesn’t just reflect on me! This is your name, skeletiny.” He stared directly into their eye sockets, where their eyelights seemed to skirt away. “You are not choosing it for the next day, or the next week, the next month, or even the next year. This is what others will call you forever!”

They snorted a little at that, for some reason. 

“You can pick any part of your font name, like—like Times! That’s a name no one will tease you for! Or, you don’t have to go with tradition at all! You can—”

“No. This is right.” They looked up again, and there was a fire in their sparking eyelights. “This is who I am, Mom. But, if it’s too much trouble—you can call me Bastar, for short.”

Bastar. They said it in a way that rhymed with—

GASTER.

“Bastard is fine!” Papyrus said a little too quickly. 

"Really?” The skeletiny— Bastard—squinted suspiciously.

“Of course!! That’s what you chose, and I promised I would respect it! I am a skeleton of my word, Bastard!!!”

Bastard beamed like they’d just Mettaton’s one hundredth viewer giveaway. Papyrus half expected to see confetti falling from the ceiling.

Thinking of Mettaton… how was he going to take this? Probably worse than Papyrus.

And if that thought encouraged Papyrus to smile a little wider, well, nobody had to know.

Chapter Text

Bastard poured tea for Frisk, almost making the cup overflow. It was a difficult habit to break, even though Dad—er, Asgore—might recognize it. It just felt like a waste to leave any space unfilled, to make someone pour for you more times than necessary. 

Asgore wasn’t paying too much attention right now, at least. Maddy was braiding flowers into his hair, and his eyes were closed peacefully. 

The whole day was peaceful. Flowers were blooming. The snails were snailing through the hotel’s rooftop garden. Frisk was sipping their tea, and wasn’t bombarding them with questions. Asgore and Maddy had taken to them without concern or suspicion. 

(Maybe a little bit of suspicion, on Maddy’s part. But she was too busy trying to prove she could be a better parent than Mettaton to truly question them.)

“Can you do my hair next?” Frisk signed to Maddy.

“I’d love to, mew~!” She beamed. 

Bastard leaned back on their palms, hiding a pang of longing behind their smile. One thing that sucked about being a skeleton was being bald. Not that they cared a lot about hair, but it would’ve been nice to be included.

“What about you, er, Bastard?” Asgore asked, stumbling over their name. He’d never had a problem saying Stabstablook, so it caught them a bit off guard.

“Huh?” they asked. 

“Yeah! Bastard! You want, like, a flower crown, mew~?”

They blinked before smiling brighter.

“Thank you, Mew Mew. I would love a flower crown.”

“You heard the Bastard, honeybee!” Maddy tugged on Asgore’s hair a little harder than necessary, but he just laughed.

“I guess I am the expert on crowns. Will you come here, small one?”

Bastard quickly stood up, but was slower to lower themself onto Asgore’s lap.

“Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” He smiled, white fangs poking out from under his lip.

“I know. You’re not a dog.” 

They sat down, with their back against his crossed shins. Close enough, but not too close. 

It had been so long since they’d been this near in proximity to him. The monster they once called Mr. Dad Guy. Who once poured them tea, and wore their badly-knitted sweaters, and taught them the names of every flower in the Underground.

The monster who’d killed six other children in their name.

Not that Bastard minded that as much as they should have. He’d just been trying to help everyone. Bastard would’ve done the same thing.

They just hated that they’d been the one to make him do it.

“Would you prefer gerberas, or pansies?” Asgore asked, gesturing to the flowers that grew near enough for him to pluck.

“They like yellow ones,” Frisk signed. “I’ll go pick some.”

Maddy was still working on Asgore’s hair, so nothing was keeping Frisk in place. They scampered off before Bastard could say anything.

Frisk was right. They did like yellow. Had Papyrus told them that, or had they figured it out on their own?

(And where was a certain other yellow flower? Bastard had thought he was up here somewhere. Surely Frisk wouldn’t have left him, right…?)

“What a kind child.” Asgore smiled.

“We’re doing a great job with them, mew~” She kissed the back of one of his horns with a loud, wet smooch . Then she, uh, licked him?

Gross. The kissing as much as the licking. But… they looked so happy. Bastard couldn’t remember seeing either of them like this, in any of their lifetimes.

“You flatter us, love.” He reached up and behind to cup her cheek.” I think they would be kind no matter what influences nudged them.”

Asgore was wrong about that. Bastard had been able to bring out Frisk’s worst side, when they’d both gotten bored and frustrated enough. Not that Bastard would ever tell Frisk’s overly-saccharine parents (step parents?) that.

Bastard was being kind right now, too. They weren’t gagging at the way their dad and their cousin made googly eyes at each other. (Partially because Bastard turned their back to them and tried not to see it.) They weren’t saying any number of things they knew would have Maddy foaming at the mouth. They weren’t saying any number of other things that would remind Asgore of Mom his ex-wife.

Bastard had been around a long time. They knew how to hurt. 

They didn’t quite know how to just… be. 

“And how are you doing, young one?” Asgore rested a paw on Bastard’s shoulder, making them jump. “Papyrus and Mettaton are taking good care of you, I hope?”

“Of course,” they answered, turning around a little.

Papyrus was putting his whole soul into having a babybones. Mettaton was… well, he was there, as much as he’d ever been, which was more than Bastard could expect. He’d been terrified to hear that Alphys and Undyne wanted to go on a double date, and seemed to be trying to suck up to Papyrus in anticipation of that event. The two of them slept in the same room now—though Papyrus had built Mettaton his own separate bed in it.

“That stupid rectangle,” Maddy muttered, her tail lashing. She poked a rose into Asgore’s hair with force.

“Let’s be polite to Bastard’s father, love.”

“I am being polite. I could’ve called him a stupid slut.”

Asgore choked a little. Bastard snickered.

“Well, he did have a Bastard…” they joked.

“You two…” Asgore sounded more amused than offended, though. He’d always been easier to joke with than Mom.

Bastard sat up straighter, getting an idea.

“If you really want to know how they’re doing, why don’t you go on a double date with them?” they asked.

“Hm?”

“What. What. WHAT. Why would we do that???” Maddy asked.

“Because it would be funny?” Bastard grinned at her. 

The real reason was because Mettaton and Papyrus needed practice before going out with Alphys and Undyne, who would be way more likely to notice anything suspicious about their relationship. But also because it would be funny.

“It would be funny, mew…” Maddy’s face scrunched up thoughtfully. She put the last marigold in Asgore’s hair, then moved to plop in front of Bastard. “Can you braid?”

“Huh?”

“They don’t have hair, darling,” Asgore reminded her.

“So?” she asked.

“I—yeah, I can braid.” They’d actually practiced on Asgore as a kid.

“Groovy! You can braid my hair, and I’ll braid Frisk’s hair, and my sweet spider over there can make your flower crown. Like a hair conga line, mew~”

Bastard laughed a little. 

“That sounds like fun.” Even if it also sounded like an excuse to keep Bastard from pestering them about the double date.

“It is! I love being touchable and having hair! There’s so many fun things you can do when you’re soft and fluffy, mew~”

Her hair was soft and fluffy, and only a little bit caked with dirt. She’d been rolling around with the snails when Frisk and Bastard first got here.

Frisk came back with the flowers—yellow and gold ones of every variety, including the familiar ones that once grew over Chara’s grave. Bastard pointedly did not react to that.

“Alright, brat!” Maddy said to Frisk after they deposited the flowers on Asgore’s lap. “Hair conga line, now. Mew~”

Frisk happily skipped into Mew Mew’s lap. Bastard wondered if they’d done this before. Frisk had had two whole years on the surface, with all of their family and friends. They’d probably had plenty of peaceful days like this.

Bastard wouldn’t feel jealous. They… they had more days like this ahead of them too, didn’t they? 

So long as they weren’t found out. So long as “Mom” and “Dad” could keep up their charade. 

So… a couple months? Maybe a year? How much could Bastard expect out of them? Bastard had already put so much pressure on Papyrus, and that was before they’d come out and picked the most irreverent name possible. 

(Or, well, the name had picked them. But close enough. They weren’t going to be Times; that just sounded old and pretentious, and Bastard was… well, maybe they were both of those things. Whatever.)

Anyway. They should just focus on enjoying the days they had, while they had them.

Asgore wove golden flowers around their skull, and they braided pink carnations into Maddy’s pigtails, and Maddy plaited blue forget-me-nots into Frisk’s bangs. 

For that moment, all four of them were woven together. And Bastard could maybe deal with Asgore and Maddy’s sappy romance, if it meant they could feel like home.

XXX

“We’re doing what,” Mettaton deadpanned when Bastard broke the news.

“Double date with Asgore and Maddy.” Bastard chewed on their steak (in the shape of Mettaton’s face—Dad had cooked tonight. It was sort of edible). “I didn’t think they were actually going tspano agree, but Frisk said they did.”

Frisk was staying with the two of them for the weekend. Bastard still had the cell phone they’d found Underground, and had gotten Frisk’s number for it. It made keeping tabs on everything and everyone a lot easier.

“Why.”

“Because it’ll be funny?” Bastard grinned, teeth full of half-chewed meat.

Mettaton shot them a glare that could have lit a Vegetoid on fire. Skeletons weren’t flammable, though.

“I, for one, think it’s a great idea!” Papyrus announced. “If you intend to stay here, Mettaton—which I am sure you do, for our beloved Bastard!—you need to learn to get along with Mew Mew. She’s practically part of the family! I mean, she’s here more often than Sans is, these days…”

He said that last part more quietly, and Bastard cringed. Something had happened between Sans and Papyrus, and Bastard was pretty sure it was because of them. They’d yet to meet Sans since arriving as a skeleton.

But if Papyrus and Mettaton went out with Maddy and Asgore… Bastard was almost guaranteed to stay at Toriel’s house next door. And that was most likely where Sans was.

They weren’t so much worried about meeting their “Uncle Sans” as they were about seeing Sans and Toriel act as sappy as Maddy and Asgore. Ew. Hopefully that wouldn’t be the case.

“Fine, fine.” Mettaton sighed. “For you, darling. I only hope you’re prepared for some truly uncouth behavior from that huss—puss—ah, lady.”

Bastard snickered. 

“All I ask is that we remain positive role models as parents,” Papyrus said. “No matter what you think Mew Mew may do, we do not have to stoop to her level! And, you may find she is much more pleasant than you think.”

Bastard hoped so. As funny as it would be to watch them go at it with chainsaws or bullets, they did want their cousins to get along. 

“I will be on my best behavior, Papyrus-darling,” Mettaton promised. “Our dear Bastard deserves nothing less.”

They felt the cutting edge to those words that Mettaton intended. He’d already bent over backwards for them—fake-dating Papyrus, keeping another layer of secrets—and here Bastard was asking even more of him. Mostly because they’d found it funny.

They… really weren’t the best person, were they?

“It’s a date. I won’t be there,” Bastard told him, even though they’d definitely planned to spy on the proceedings. “Don’t change yourself on my account.”

Mettaton gave them a flat look. Haven’t I already? that stare said.

Bastard cringed a little. It was too late to make things right. They needed to remember that.

They’d already gotten too comfortable here. Let themself enjoy too much. 

“That’s right, you won’t… I wonder if Miss Toriel would watch you for the evening?” Papyrus suggested exactly what Bastard had expected.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” they protested, because the last thing they needed was to inconvenience anyone else.

(And maybe they wanted to put off meeting Toriel a little longer. Sans they could deal with, but Chara’s old mom… they’d failed her more than anyone.)

“No one will be sitting on you! You’ll have a great time with whichever of our friends is free. Maybe Undyne, if Toriel is busy?”

“Undyne would be great,” Bastard said quickly. 

They’d barely gotten to meet Undyne in this form, but they couldn’t help liking her. She was awesome, she was cool, and most importantly, she hadn’t known Chara. (Even if she had known Stabstablook, just a little.)

“We’ll see, then!” Papyrus grinned and took a bite of his steak. “For now, though, let’s enjoy this lovely family dinner!”

Bastard ate their food, but couldn’t help thinking Papyrus would be happier if the dinner had been with a different family.

XXX

“ And then you add two shots of Elmer’s glue…” On the TV, Mettaton poured a thick white liquid from a large jug into his mixing bowl.

Bastard smiled a little. It seemed like living among humans on the surface hadn’t gotten their cousin to change his ways. They hoped there weren’t any human taste-testers on this show. 

They pulled the blanket tighter around their shoulders, sinking as deep as they could into the couch. They kept the TV’s volume as low as possible, not wanting to wake Mettaton or Papyrus, who were asleep (in separate beds) upstairs. Papyrus especially could show up at any moment, with his erratic sleep schedule, but Bastard had decided to take that risk. 

They couldn’t sleep, and sometimes you just needed to watch trash TV about it. 

“You don’t get enough of him at home, huh?”

Sans’s voice—coming from where he’d appeared on the couch next to them—would’ve given them a heart attack, if they’d had a heart.

“Hello, Sans,” Bastard managed to say calmly. 

They hadn’t expected to see him tonight; they had thought he was going to stay with Mom—Toriel—forever, at this rate. 

Oh well. At least they could get this over with before Toriel agreed to babysit them.

“Hey, Bastard.” He grinned, holding out his hand. “Great name, by the way.”

Bastard didn’t shake his hand. Like with Frisk, Bastard knew better.

“Thanks. Papyrus didn’t think so.” They frowned. 

Sans’s approval was hardly a balm right now. Bastard didn’t hate him—their and Frisk’s brutal defeats at his hands had been entirely deserved—but he was hardly a role model.

(Not that Bastard needed a role model to show them how to disappear.)

“Eh, don’t mind him. I got all the funny bones in the family.” He grinned. 

“So I guess you thought it was funny to make your brother think you hated him all week.”

And Bastard had thought it was all their fault. Which, well, it still was.

Sans’s grin wavered a little. He slid a little further down the couch, but his slippers still didn’t reach the floor.

“Nah, he knows better than that. Who could hate a responsible Mom like him?”

Bastard glared. 

“He’s been trying to call and text you for four days. You should have talked to him.”

“Woah. Are you the mom now?”

“If I was, I would ground you.”

“Huh. You didn’t get any of the funny bones either.” Sans regarded them curiously. “Well. I guess you got some funny looking ones. That’s almost the same thing.”

“I’m being serious.” Bastard clenched their fists. “Papyrus—Mom is worried about you, and he—he deserves better than that.”

(He deserved better than Bastard, too. But Papyrus rarely got what he deserved, in any timeline they’d lived.)

Sans went quiet for a minute. His eyesockets were closed. Had he fallen asleep?

“...Yeah.” He nodded eventually. “Yeah, he does.”

Bastard breathed out, arms relaxing. 

“I’ll leave a whoopie cushion under his pillow. A fart is worth a thousand turds,” Sans said.

Bastard didn’t snort. Even if they could, dirty jokes were beneath them. They’d already crawled out of the soil.

“Fine. I guess.” Bastard looked away. 

The episode of Mettaton’s cooking show was almost over, and they’d missed almost all of it. Maybe they’d hit rewind and try again. It had to be funnier than Sans’s attempts at humor.

“I gotta say. I didn’t expect my first meeting with my nibling to be a lecture. Papyrus’s already got you on the straight and marrow, huh?”

“You could say that.” Bastard smiled a little. 

It was nice to think they’d gotten at least one thing right. Even if it was just disappointing Sans.

“Heh. Smug Bastard.”

“Please refrain from insulting my child, Sans.” Papyrus’s voice carried from the top of the stairs, where he stood in a cap and nightgown. He held a bone attack that glowed blue at one end as if it were an old-timey candlestick. “They’re clearly being self-satisfied, not smug.”

Bastard chuckled. Their mom had the funniest bones in the family, as far as they were concerned.

“Right. The wrong s-word. My bad.” Sans tried to look casual, but Bastard was starting to get an eye (metaphorically) for skeleton body language and facial expression. His jaw was definitely tighter than before.

Papyrus finished descending the stairs and sat himself in the wide gap between Sans and Bastard.

“The only s-word you two should be concerned with is Sleep,” he announced. “Seriously! You’ve only been home for—how long have you been home for?”

“Seven minutes.”

“Seven minutes! And you’re already corrupting my skeletiny’s delicate smirkadian rhythm!”

“You mean circadian rhythm?” 

“Don’t be silly! Just because your face isn’t expressive enough to smirk is no excuse to ruin Bastard’s sleeping patterns!”

None of that made any sense, which was awesome. Bastard wished they could talk that much without saying anything. It was too easy for them to accidentally give up important secrets when they got caught rambling.

“Anyway! Of all the monsters to keep my skeletiny up past their bedtime, I did not expect my brother who is practically married to his bed!!”

Bastard smirked, because that was something they could do. 

“Yeah, Sans. What are you doing keeping me up past my bedtime?”

Sans just laughed. 

“Alright, alright. Give it a rest.” He winked, and Papyrus groaned loudly.

“That’s it! Go to your room, Sans!!” 

“Woah. You’re my mom too now?”

Papyrus made some unintelligible, vaguely affronted noises at that.

“Also, uh. Do I still have a room?” Sans asked sheepishly.

“Of course you do!! You are—this is your house too! Even if you seem to forget where you live, at times!”

Sans relaxed a little.

“Sorry, Papyrus,” he said, and he actually sounded like he meant it. “Anyway. Better get some shuteye. Did you, uh… want a bedtime story?”

“I’m sure Bastard would love one!” Papyrus squeezed their shoulder. “I would join you, but I have work to do!”

“Oh.” Sans’s smile barely fell.

“Don’t you need to fix your own smirkadian rhythm?” Bastard asked Papyrus, browbone scrunching.

Seriously. It couldn’t be healthy for him to sleep as little as he did, could it? They’d never been able to figure out how much he was exaggerating about his sleep schedule Underground, but now they were pretty sure he only got a couple hours each night at best.

“My rhythms are perfectly smirkular, thank you.” He crossed his arms, tapping his blue bone attack against his left humerus. 

"What kind of work do you have to do in the middle of the night, anyway?” Bastard pushed. 

“Nothing that you need to worry about! I can handle my many responsibilities gracefully, and without passing on stress to my growing skeletiny!”

It was a little late for that. But Bastard knew when to accept that Papyrus wouldn’t be giving up answers any time soon.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sans agreed. “He’s got the energy of a… well, more energy than a babybones. I got all the bone-weariness in the family, too.”

Bastard sighed. They weren’t sure that was true, anymore. 

Papyrus hopped off of the couch, leaving Sans to take Bastard’s hand and lead them back upstairs. Papyrus headed the opposite direction, to the kitchen. 

Don’t work yourself to death for me, Bastard thought towards their mom. You’re worth more than that.

They let Sans read them a book about a fluffy bunny until they got bored enough to fall asleep.