Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You had dreams in life. Real, achievable ones that you worked hard for. You went to college for art, worked your ass off in school to graduate with honors, majored in painting and minored in art education. You were a patient person. (Okay, that was a lie. You weren’t patient but you were tolerant with waiting. So… maybe a perserverent person.) You applied to every school in the state to be a teacher, and no dice. 

It started out small, getting an intern job at some random celebrity’s agency. You designed profile photos and Twitter banners while working as a waitress, occasionally drafting ideas for their media to your managers. It was fun at first, even if the money wasn’t great. You quickly moved up in ranks until you were the celebrity’s personal assistant. Until then, you hadn’t even met her. Adaline.

Her persona was regal, elegant, and pure. Her white hair and yellow-amber eyes made her a very recognizable model. Adeline promoted many makeup brands and clothing lines, but you’d seen her on a couple perfume ads as well. She wasn’t a celebrity you’d see much talk about if you didn’t directly follow her and what she did. In her interviews she seemed kind and grateful.

It wasn’t until you became her assistant that you got a true taste of how much of a bitch she was.

It started with the coffee. You always wrote down her coffee order and just handed it to the cashier to avoid any error, but Adaline always had a problem. Whether you ‘forgot’ the cake pop she definitely didn’t ask you for, or the coffee was too hot, too cold, not enough sugar, too much sugar-

-

“I’m really sorry, Ms. Adaline. They didn’t have soy milk, but they said skim was a very close option.”

Adaline wrinkled her nose in disgust, “Why didn’t you just go to another Starbucks?!”

“...I did. I went to three.”

She threw her hands up, rolling her brown eyes, “You made me wait that long and you didn’t even bring me the right coffee?!”

…..don’t be violent. Don’t get violent. You need this job. You need this job.

“UGH. Whatever!”

She drank the whole thing anyway.

-

You began to tune her out after the first two weeks of apologizing for your ‘mistakes.’ 

You were tasked with making sure she knew her schedule each day, which Adaline demanded be read to her while her makeup was being done to save time. That part honestly didn’t bother you, it was smart and respectable, but the way she talked to her makeup team truly irked you. She had to do her own mascara, then complained when it wasn’t even (it looked fine), she had to pick every color, then freaked out when they didn’t look well together, and she talked shit the entire time about how she could do so much better, then expected you to agree with her.

The level of entitlement was insane to you. You genuinely couldn’t comprehend it. Well, not until you found out she was one hell of a nepo-baby. Her dad had about as much reach as Elon Musk and her mom had her fingers in Vogue and many other high-demand brands. You wouldn’t consider yourself poor by any means, but being middle class and being the 1% was a big gap.

You were required to wear her lipstick, but had to buy the $100 set with your own money. You honestly almost quit your job then and there, but apparently you had the patience of a saint and stayed for another two years. At least your clothing matched the dress-code.

- 

“Oh, honey. All of my assistants, even you, have to wear my lip kits.”

You blushed, embarrassed, “Oh, yes, of course, Ms. Adaline.” 

She’d stopped in the middle of a full tangent to call you out on it. Apparently one of her ‘snake’ friends wore the same very popular dress as her within the same week and had the audacity to post it on instagram and maybe get extra likes. Also, Adaline’s ex, Adam, commented a whole three fire emojis under it, and Adaline was having an absolute mental breakdown over it. No one told you being a personal assistant also meant being a pocket therapist. Go figure.

You’d brought her the correct kombucha, opened it for her, and canceled everything on her schedule for her since she refused to shoot her reality show that day because of the totally serious definitely personal spite against one of the other actors.

“I brought her up from nothing. She was nothing without me. You know I got her onto this show? That’s right. Me. And she has the audacity to do this to me.”

You watched her face scrunch weirdly due to the amount of botox shoved into it and forced your expression into something resembling sympathetic, “That’s… horrible, Ms. Adaline.”

She took a sip of kombucha and jutted her lip out, “I KNOW ! I begged the executive producer to let her on and this is how she repays me?! Go- Go on my account and comment snake emojis on her post. At least ten of them. Like, three times. She’ll know.”

You clenched your jaw and nodded, honestly not caring about the backlash Adaline would probably get for it. If anything, you were trying not to laugh. 

Adaline fixed her hair for the five-hundredth time and pouted, “I’m going to have the executive kill off her character.”

“Mhm…” You nodded a little, mid-commenting little snake emojis on Adaline’s ex friend’s most recent post. Which was an hour ago. Honestly, the friend looked cute in the dress, you could see why Adaline was jealous. 

She went on an even longer rant, which diverged into Adaline cutting the girl’s wig up and sprinkling the loose strands around the set, which almost had you pissing yourself with how hard it was not to laugh. 

“Oh. You’re not wearing my lipstick still.”

You mentally groaned. You hadn’t even left yet!

-

It was genuine hell for a long time. You dealt with the same petty bullshit, stacks of paperwork, constant complaints, and having to treat Adaline like a genuine princess until she finally got bored of you. You weren’t fired, but shifted to a different celebrity. Claude.

And so the cycle continued. 

The same petty bullshit. The same stacks of paperwork. The same complaining over shit you wish you could have the luxury of complaining about. The same stupid questions and babying and pampering. The only difference was that the new celebrity made consistent sexual remarks about you. HR didn’t care in the slightest until you got it on camera and threatened to sue. Did you have the money to sue? Of course not. But you could always go to the public for it and get the guy canceled, so you were ‘let go’ with a large bonus and a non-disclosure agreement. 

You were still a good employee, and an unfortunately good sport about the whole thing, so HR pulled some strings to land you a job in the capital. The capital of New Ebott, that is. 

You never had a problem with monsters. You found them delightful, actually. Every monster you served at the restaurant tipped well and gave you no problems. Even if the food was wrong or there was a mistake, they just told you straight up without any condescension and you’d fix it. You hadn’t worked with or for monsters until this job, though.

You were honestly tempted to pray that this new job would work out. Hopefully this ‘Papyrus’ guy wasn’t too bad off camera. 

Papyrus was mostly joking when he offered to be the mascot of monster kind. It made much more sense for Frisk, Undyne or even Asgore to be the face of their kingdom. Sure, Frisk was the ambassador, and Undyne was on Asgore’s protection detail, and Asgore was… well.. the king, but surely there was someone that would’ve better suited the role.

…

Mettaton said no. He preferred being his own celebrity. 

So… this was Papyrus’ job now! Don’t get him wrong in the slightest, he was elated to be a celebrity! He’d make so many friends and he’d be SO popular and Sans would finally stop worrying about him!

This was a good thing!

And he loved it for a solid year! He worked directly with Mettaton, Alphys, and the human to make sure he was representing the monster population in the best light. It was fun! A lot of rides in fancy cars and planes, getting to see beaches and big cities with his friends! 

It wasn’t until a little while after monster’s rights were confirmed that things started going a little down-hill. Once they were confirmed as American citizens, they were expected to follow American law and American expectations. Which wasn’t bad! It was very good that they were given rights! He very much liked those! But! Because of that, Papyrus’s job got a little more complicated. 

The moment it was legal, he was suddenly being asked to form hundreds of brand deals that he didn’t really understand the importance of, and his friends were exactly zero help.

-

“What? PAPERWORK?? Just PUNCH it!”

“THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS.”

“Oh YEAH?! I’LL SHOW YOU HOW IT WORKS!”

“DO NOT NOOGIE THE SKELETON!”

-

“Oh darling, they just want to see your handsome bones everywhere! They love you! Do them all.”

“...METTATON THERE ARE HUNDREDS OF THEM. THIS ONE’S FOR A HAIR CARE PRODUCT.”

“…Maybe not all then, darling.”

-

Thankfully, his brother was there to help! Sans was lazy, but tended to have good advice! 

“…maybe you should hire an assistant. or a man- ager. you could pay them to figure it out for ya, paps.”

“THAT SOUNDS AWFULLY LAZY, SANS.”

His brother snickered, “hire a human. they’re going to know how it works a bit more than a bag-of-bones, bro.”

“…MAYBE. WOULDN’T THAT MAKE ME LAZY?”

Sans hummed, looking up from where he was scrolling on his phone, “…nah. you’re the one working yourself down to the bone.”

“SHUT UP, BROTHER.”

-

Papyrus hired a manager. She was blunt and no-nonsense and Papyrus had to work his tailbone off for three full months to get on her good side. She was very good at her job though! They worked together easily in deciding which brand deals to go for, and Papyrus would occasionally ask King Fluffybuns for input.

It was complicated and frankly exhausting after six months. He still loved his job, and kept to positivity, but there were times that it genuinely got to him. 

Papyrus could deal with racism. Genuinely! They were just confused and had yet to meet such a great skeleton such as himself! The only issue was finding humans willing to work with him! 

He wasn’t hiring anyone directly to his ‘company’ just yet, but when he went in for photo shoots, he was often stranded. He was seen as rude if he went on his phone to check the schedule, rude if he asked for the time because he didn’t want to go on his phone, rude when he asked why everyone else was catered with clearly friendship-filled sandwiches, and rude when he asked why he was invited if the photographer was racist and wouldn’t take the photos.

Papyrus was a patient monster! He could understand mistakes and miscommunication easily, but when it happened for every single outing, he found himself with a clenched jaw and a worried brother.

It wasn’t even that he truly minded the wait, just that it wasted his manager’s time and the time of other agencies that might actually accept him. It was becoming quickly clear that a lot of the brands, like the hair-care one, didn’t even look at what type of monster he was, or.. genuinely anything about him before sending an offer. His manager, always blunt, told him that they frankly just wanted to say they were willing to work with a monster so more monsters would shop there and they’d get support from monster-lovers. A lot of the time, they apparently didn’t even tell the makeup and PR teams that he was a monster, just that a ‘ new upcoming celebrity is coming to promote our product!’ which is why he faced so much surprise and disdain in a lot of meets.

He tried his best to convince them to feel safer and more accepting of him and monster-kind, but it didn’t always work. He would never stop trying though! He believed in them! 

His manager had enough and hired his own team after one brand made him wait for a meeting at an office for 6 hours before telling him to leave because their own teams weren’t willing to deal with the ‘intricacies’ of taking a monster’s photo, though. 

And suddenly, Papyrus had his own photographer and assistant! After another year, he had his own office building, a full photography team, a media advisor, his manager, his manager’s many assistants, a makeup artist, and his own personal assistant. He had watched the numbers slowly climb in the beginning, elated when his two followers (curse that troll) jumped to twenty, then twenty thousand, but after a while it had snuck up on him. Six million followers. And that was just on Instagram! Across all platforms, Papyrus had garnered six- teen million followers. He was showered in fan-mail and cute drawings from excited kids and teens hoping for a more accepting future.

With such a large team, he was able to get a lot more done, and he was suddenly making enough money to pay his employees far above the truly abysmal minimum wage as well as treat his friends and fully support his brother (if Sans would let him. Apparently his brother isn’t that lazy, which is a lie. They’re on the surface and the sock is still there.). It was hard work, but it was fun again. At least, for a little while.

His makeup artist quit for a dream job, which he would never look down upon them for, but instead of hiring a new one, his manager decided to lump in makeup as a responsibility for his personal assistant if he needed anything. It had a good pay upgrade, so his assistant didn’t mind at all.

She was a nice girl at first, all smiles and sharp makeup and fake glasses. Papyrus almost never needed makeup, since he was a skeleton, but during an ad campaign where they wanted a fun ‘day of the dead’ look, he quickly discovered that he was allergic to face-paint. Thankfully it was nothing serious, just a light rash and a burning sensation, but it wasn’t pleasant. 

She didn’t last long. Apparently her fake glasses were one of those fancy cameras and she was trying to get evidence for an anti-monster expose that a highly racist company was paying her handsomely for. Sans had called it out after visiting the office to have lunch with his brother. Papyrus had offered to let her stay.

-

“MS. MANAGER, I TRULY DON’T THINK THAT FIRING HER IS NECESSARY! I BELIEVE THAT EVERYONE CAN CHANGE AND DESERVES SECOND CHANCES! IF SHE CAN JUST-”

Sans looked away, unwilling to tell Papyrus he was wrong or chip away at Papyrus’ forgiving nature. It was part of his little brother and he loved him for it. His manager pinched her nose bridge and sighed, “Papyrus, I know you feel that way. And that’s great , truly. There needs to be more people in this world like you, believe me. But she doesn’t… care. If you let her stay, even if you take the glasses, she’s just going to get more risky because she knows she can get away with it. She’s racist, Papyrus. She’s not doing it because she needs the money, we both know you paid her far more than just a living wage. She’s doing this out of hatred. Sometimes it’s not worth it to keep that around you.”

Papyrus clenched his jaw, “...ARE YOU SURE? I REALLY…” He remembered the way she had almost snarled at his brother when Sans had asked why her glasses had a camera. She was mean and vicious and… hateful. 

Sans frowned, “..i’m sorry buddy. i guess she’s just bad to the bone .”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.”

Sans snickered with a lightly guilty expression, “it was handed to me, paps, i had to.”

-

Horrible puns aside, life moved on. His second assistant, this one with several background checks being performed before hire, was a sweet guy. At first. He stuck around for about 3 months before he exploded on Papyrus for asking a question about how humans work. It was an innocent question too, just about why humans preferred some foods over others so heavily. Apparently, the man had enough of his questions. Papyrus tried to fight for him to stay, same as his previous assistant, but his manager convinced him. 

-

“I know you’re upset about this Papyrus, but think of it as an opportunity to give someone else a chance to work here. Someone who will really love it and appreciate you. Someone who really needs the job.”

“...OKAY, HUMAN.”

“You’ve got to stop calling me that. If you want to be professional, feel free to call me Ms. Manager again, but I've got a name Papyrus. We’ve been working together for over two years.”

Papyrus blushed, “APOLOGIES, BRENDA.”

“Thank you.”

-

The next assistant was another woman. She was a little older than his last assistants and seemed to have to no-nonsense attitude that Ms. Brenda had. She lasted six months before calling him monster scum and quitting. He didn’t even argue after that one.

A younger girl stayed around for two weeks. Not only did she ignore his allergy to face paint twice but she quit after she found out she wouldn’t see Mettaton, who she was an actual fan of. 

A man who put rat poison in Papyrus’ catering. It was only Papyrus’ extreme sense of smell from being a monster that saved him from a very miserable time. The guy was only there for a month. 

-

Ms. Brenda was at the point where she was offering to take on being his personal assistant as well as her other responsibilities. Papyrus told her no because her previous words stuck with him.

“MS. BRENDA, I’M SURE THERE IS SOMEONE WHO WOULD APPRECIATE THIS JOB! JUST AS YOU SAID, THIS IS AN OPPORTUNITY FOR SOMEONE NEW!”

She grimaced, “...That was before someone tried to kill you, Papyrus.”

Papyrus smiled and shook his head, “PESTICIDES WOULD NOT HAVE KILLED ME, MS. MANAGER! I AM FAR TOO GREAT FOR THAT!”

Brenda stared at him for a moment, calculating, before she cracked a smile, “..Of course, Papyrus. But it still would have made you sick, which means a loss of time, no?”

He hummed, tapping his chin, “I SUPPOSE YOU ARE CORRECT! BUT MY SENSE OF SMELL IS A LOT BETTER THAN A HUMANS! I PROMISE YOU, THERE WAS NO THREAT!”

“...If you say so, Papyrus. I’ll find another assistant for you.”

-

You were handed to Brenda on a silver platter from the HR of the biggest celebrities around. You had an incredible background in the field. No write ups, rarely late, both jobs prior let you go with no negative feedback and high praise for your work ethic. Brenda genuinely had no idea how you hadn’t been snatched up before, but after multiple background checks, you seemed to fit the role just fine. Hell, you were recommended for it. After working for Claude and Adaline, there was no conceivable way you were under-qualified.

Papyrus smiled when he got the email from Ms. Brenda confirmed his new assistant was officially selected and invited for an interview. Papyrus believed in everyone, of course, but he couldn’t help secretly hoping this one wasn’t racist. He was really tired Sans worrying over him all the time! He’s the great Papyrus! 

He’s sure this new assistant will be just fine.

Chapter Text

You were not just fine. 

You figured since the office building was a thirty minute drive that you should get ready early and leave super early to make sure you wouldn’t get stuck in traffic. You got there a full thirty minutes before your appointment.

Being early wasn’t a bad thing, but you knew it would look bad if you went on your phone in the lobby, so you quietly chatted with the lady at the front desk to pass the time. She was quite the cheery girl, around your age and wearing bright, colorful clothing that matched her custom Yeti cup. It was silver and blue and had the little dogs from BLUEY on it and the name ‘Gracie’ in bold letters.

The two of you hit it off easily, and it wasn’t long until another woman strode into the room, dressed in a pencil skirt and a professional blouse. She called your name, so you waved a quick goodbye to Gracie, who smiled and offered a soft “Good luck!!” in return as you walked to the woman and showed her your ID.

She looked vaguely impressed for some reason, but motioned for you to follow her down a hallway. You did so without complaint, hoping to god you looked alright for the interview. The woman, who’s name tag you caught to be Mrs. Thibodeaux, showed you to an elevator and slipped inside with you. 

“My name’s Roxanne Thibodeaux, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m the lead of the art department, so they wanted me to bring you in, despite the fact that you’ll be working under Ms. Brenda and Papyrus himself for the most part!”

You immediately smiled, glad she wasn’t super uptight or anything. “Oh! It’s- the pleasure’s all mine!” You introduced yourself and shook her hand, “I’m very excited to be working with you!”

She grinned, “You’ve already made a great impression, on me at least. I used to be an art teacher, and kids on their phones always irked me a little. I always wished they’d just talk to each other more! Anyway, you hit it off with Gracie, which is awesome! She’s really nice to everyone, but usually gets a little shy at the idea of actually making friends.”

Thank god you didn’t go on your phone. 

Thibodeaux sighed and smiled, “Anyway, are you excited? Nervous?”

You laughed softly, “A bit of both. My previous work experiences weren’t great, and I’ve never worked at a monster owned company before, so this is all very new to me!”

She hummed, “That’s understandable!” You barely caught it, but you saw something serious flash in her eyes for a moment, “You had monster co-workers?”

Your smile turned a little nervous, feeling as if the interview had already begun, “Kind of? They worked in catering, really, which- I uh, wasn’t supposed to talk to catering- but. Yeah. I was a waitress and served monsters before my assistant job?”

She paused, but nodded a little, “I get it.” The elevator dinged and she smiled, “This is your stop! Good luck!”

You clenched your jaw but forced a smile and nod. “Thank you!”

You got this. You so got this. You’ve worked for Adaline and Claude. This Papyrus couldn’t be that bad. No way.

Please.

You took a deep breath and walked through the doors. The office was very nice, all mahogany wood and organized to a T. Sitting at the desk was a middle aged woman that simply had to be Ms. Brenda, and standing next to her was the infamous Papyrus.

Your first thought was ‘holy shit, he is tall,’ and your second was ‘this man is kind of adorable?’

Papyrus waved at you with a big smile, “HELLO HUMAN! YOU MUST BE..” He looked down at Ms. Brenda’s computer screen and appeared to read your name off it. 

You smiled, “Yup! That’s uh, that’s me!” You stepped forward and offered your hand for him to shake. 

He paused but gently shook your hand with a bright grin. The contact made you shiver a little. Damn, this guy was infectiously happy. How the hell hasn’t he been able to keep an assistant? You offered your hand to Ms. Brenda next, who gave it a firm shake before gesturing at the chair next to you, “Please, dear, take a seat.”

You nodded and sat down, Papyrus sitting down in a roll-y chair next to Ms. Brenda. “IT’S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU! AS YOU PROBABLY KNOW, I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I’M VERY EXCITED TO HAVE YOU HERE!”

You fought down blush. Woah, okay. Way to make a girl feel special. What a freaking cutie. “Thank you. Ah, I’m really excited to be here!”

Brenda smiled, “Perfect. Alright, jumping right into it. I’ve read your resume, and I’ve got to say, it’s great. Would you say you’re confident in makeup artistry?”

You blinked, “It’s not all that different from painting, so.. yes, ma’am.”

She waved you off, “Oh, no need for all that, I’m not that old. The email should have made you aware of Papyrus’ paint allergy?”

You nodded, “I don’t use face paint, so that’s not an issue for me at all.”

“Perfect. May I ask why?”

You shrugged, “I had an allergic reaction to it as a kid and I’m not willing to find out if it stuck around. My makeup experience is mainly on myself for fun, or on my friends for school formals and Halloween and stuff. Nothing crazy.”

Brenda hummed, “That’ll work. I looked at some of your paintings on social media and your color work is great for our brand, so we’re not too concerned about your skill there.” 

Pride lit up in your chest, warming your heart. Damn right you were skilled. “Thank you.”

She smiled, “You worked with Adaline, yes?”

You fought a grimace and nodded, “Yes.”

“And what was your experience there?”

You paused, trying to remember if your NDA covered your workings under Adaline as well as him. “I’m sorry, I signed an NDA and I’m not sure what I’m allowed to share.”

Brenda looked genuinely surprised, “An NDA? No wonder I can’t find anything on you. Okay, that’s fine.”

Papyrus piped up, “APOLOGIES, WHAT’S AN NDA?”

You perked up, “Oh, it stands for Non-Disclosure-Agreement. It basically means I can’t talk about what happened or anything specific about working there.” 

Papyrus paused for a moment, but nodded with a smile that felt just a little more genuine than the others, “THANK YOU.”

You nodded and smiled back, “No problem.”

Brenda glanced between the two of you and the computer screen, “Well, being honest, you were hired the moment I saw that resume. The interview was more for the papers and to meet you personality wise, which you did just fine with. Your yearly salary, you said you were fine with your previous wage… but that’s far lower than we pay employees in this position.”

You blinked, “Really? I was making seventy thousand a year.”

She grimaced, “Yes, but we pay six figures.”

You barely stopped yourself from choking. Holy shit, that was a lot of money. “Oh.”

She gave you a small smile, “Yes. Is that acceptable for you?”

It startled a laugh out of you, “Oh, more than.”

She chuckled, “How many hours can you work a week?”

You waved her off, “As many as needed! I do request a day or two off a week, though? On days where Papyrus isn’t doing anything, obviously.” You paused, turning to him, “You take break days, right?”

Papyrus chuckled, “YES, MS. BRENDA IS FORCING ME TO.”

You laughed, “Breaks are important, even for someone as great as yourself.”

A pretty orange-pink color lit up his cheekbones. “Y-YES, OF COURSE.” 

Brenda smirked, “I like you.”

You grinned, “I like you too!”

The human had arrived a full half hour early to the interview. Papyrus admired it. “WHY DON’T WE JUST START IT NOW? WE’RE NOT DOING ANYTHING.”

Brenda hummed, “True, but I’d like to see what she does while waiting.”

Papyrus shrugged, “IS THIS THE PHONE THING AGAIN? I DON’T MIND THEM BEING ON THEIR PHONE. NOTHING’S GOING ON.”

Brenda shrugged, “Oh, I don’t mind either, but Roxy really wants to see if they’ll try to talk to anyone or read a magazine instead or something.”

Pap rolled his eyes but smiled good naturedly, “THAT’S FINE THEN.”

Brenda checked the camera’s again, sending a text to Mrs. Thibodeaux that the new assistant was there and was in fact talking to the receptionist. Once it was close to the allotted time, Roxanne went to fetch them. Gracie sent a message hyping her up, saying she was kind and funny, which was exactly what Brenda was hoping for.

 Papyrus hummed, looking at the messages over Brenda’s shoulder, “SHE SEEMS NICE.”

Brennd grimaced, “Yes, to humans.”

He side-eyed her, “OH, GIVE HER A CHANCE.”

She chuckled, “She’s almost here.”

Not a moment later, she walked through the doors. She looked around the office with light wonder before their gaze fell on Papyrus and Brenda. She blinked, staring up at him for a moment, in what looked like shock.

Papyrus took a deep breath to calm his nerves before taking on a big smile, “HELLO HUMAN! YOU MUST BE..” He looked down at Ms. Brenda’s computer screen and read her name off it. 

She smiled, “Yup! That’s uh, that’s me!” and stepped forward, offering her hand for him to shake. 

He paused. Usually humans weren’t all that excited to touch monsters, so he wasn’t exactly expecting them to go for him at all, let alone first, but grinned and gently shook their hand. He swore his soul warmed at first contact, and fought a shiver. Odd. They offered their hand to Ms. Brenda next, who gave it a firm shake before gesturing at the chair next to them, “Please, dear, take a seat.”

She nodded and sat down, Papyrus sitting down in a roll-y chair next to Ms. Brenda. He felt his soul squeezed nervously before he mentally steeled himself. He was the greatest! “IT’S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU! AS YOU PROBABLY KNOW, I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I’M VERY EXCITED TO HAVE YOU HERE!”

A soft pink color slowly took to their cheeks. “Thank you. Ah, I’m really excited to be here!”

Brenda smiled, “Perfect. Alright, jumping right into it. I’ve read your resume, and I’ve got to say, it’s great. Would you say you’re confident in makeup artistry?”

She blinked, “It’s not all that different from painting, so.. yes, ma’am.”

Brenda waved them off, “Oh, no need for all that, I’m not that old. The email should have made you aware of Papyrus’ paint allergy?” He blushed a little, not expecting Brenda to be so direct.

She nodded a little, “I don’t use face paint, so that’s not an issue for me at all.”

“Perfect. May I ask why?” 

Her face went a little pink and she shrugged, “I had an allergic reaction to it as a kid and I’m not willing to find out if it stuck around. My makeup experience is mainly on myself for fun, or on my friends for school formals and Halloween and stuff. Nothing crazy.”

Papyrus blinked. Oh. That was cool. He hadn’t even thought of someone sharing the allergy.

Brenda hummed, “That’ll work. I looked at some of your paintings on social media and your color work is great for our brand, so we’re not too concerned about your skill there.” 

“Thank you.”

She smiled, “You worked with Adaline, yes?”

She got a weird expression on her face, but nodded, “Yes.”

Brenda clocked it and glanced at Papyrus to see if he had too. He did. “And what was your experience there?”

They paused for a moment, “I’m sorry, I signed an NDA and I’m not sure what I’m allowed to share.”

Brenda looked genuinely surprised, but was mentally cursing herself. Of course they signed an NDA. “An NDA? No wonder I can’t find anything on you. Okay, that’s fine.”

Papyrus hesitated. His last assistants absolutely fucking despised the amount of questions he asked. Well, he doubted they would get too pissed off over one. Anyway, it would most likely be Brenda answering anyway. He piped up, “APOLOGIES, WHAT’S AN NDA?”

She immediately sat up straighter and smiled, tucking her hair out of her face, “Oh, it stands for Non-Disclosure-Agreement. It basically means I can’t talk about what happened or anything specific about working there.” 

Papyrus.. Was not expecting her to answer. At all, let alone kindly and clearly. Huh. He grinned, “THANK YOU.”

She nodded and smiled back, “No problem.”

Brenda glanced between them and Papyrus and the computer screen, “Well, being honest, you were hired the moment I saw that resume. The interview was more for the papers and to meet you personality wise, which you did just fine with. Your yearly salary, you said you were fine with your previous wage… but that’s far lower than we pay employees in this position.”

They blinked, “Really? I was making seventy thousand a year.” 

Oh, that. That was barely enough to survive on! Papyrus paid much more than that.

Brenda grimaced, “Yes, but we pay six figures.”

She coughed, “Oh.”

His manager gave her a small smile, “Yes. Is that acceptable for you?”

It startled a small laugh out of them, “Oh, more than.”

She chuckled, “How many hours can you work a week?”

They waved lightly, “As many as needed! I do request a day or two off a week, though? On days where Papyrus isn’t doing anything, obviously.” Then they paused, turning to Papyrus, “You take break days, right?”

He chuckled, “YES, MS. BRENDA IS FORCING ME TO.”

They laughed softly, “Breaks are important, even for someone as great as yourself.”

Papyrus felt his face go hot. Okay, assistant. Way to make a monster feel special! “Y-YES, OF COURSE.” 

Brenda smirked, “I like you.”

They grinned, “I like you too!”

Oh stars, Papyrus hoped she liked him too.

Chapter Text

It was your first day on the job and while the majority of you was waiting for the other foot to drop, you decided you liked Papyrus.

So far.

You’ve been burned before by Adaline and him . You couldn’t force yourself to trust that easily anymore. Hell, you were honestly terrified. You knew in your heart that this was your last try in this industry. All you had to do was last a year here and you’d have repaid your student loans. That’s all you needed. Then you could go back to selling paintings and applying for teaching jobs. Your sister had begged you to join her homeschooling group ages ago.

You wondered if you were still welcomed in that.

You made it to work on time as always, a small energy drink in hand. Coffee always seems to make you more tired, unfortunately. You told Gracie hi at the entrance, offering her a Jolly Rancher from the stock-pile you kept in your purse. You’ve kept candy on you since highschool once you made a friend with low blood sugar. You liked putting a smile on people’s faces anyway.

Gracie took one and you made your way up the elevator with the fancy key-card you received. You hummed softly to the elevator music, bobbing your head a little to the distinctly Mettaton track. You knew damn well his hit ‘Death By Glamor’ would be stuck in your head for the rest of the day. 

You walked down the hall of the top floor, finding the door with ‘Papyrus Personal Assistant’ and your name on a little plaque. You’d been delighted to learn you had your own office. You set your bag down and took a deep breath before grabbing your tiny notebook and your favorite pen and waking your way to Papyrus’ room.

It was a fancy mix between a dressing room and an office, plus a large chase that Papyrus could probably fit on to take a nap if needed. Or for Mettaton to lounge over and eat grapes. Gracie told you he did that once.

You knocked on the door lightly, and smiled at the very tall skeleton who opened the door. “Good morning! Coffee run?”

Papyrus blinked, “I DON’T DRINK COFFEE! AND I’M PRETTY SURE THAT’S NOT YOUR JOB, NEW ASSISTANT! DID YOU HAVE TO FETCH COFFEE ORDERS AT YOU PREVIOUS ASSISTANT GIG?”

You nodded a little, confused, “I thought that was an everyone thing.”

Papyrus quirked a.. brow? He’s a skeleton. How is that physically possible? “WELL, NO MATTER, I DON’T DRINK IT ANYWAY! THANK YOU THOUGH! ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR FIRST DAY?”

You responded to your own question with ‘probably magic,’ and moved on. “I think so! I was given your schedule on my way in. Do you have a specific time you like to read it? Or do you prefer we go down the list as the day goes on?”

Papyrus paused for a moment, then smiled, “FIRST THING IS FINE WITH ME!” He waved you into the room and you immediately followed, hesitantly shutting the door behind you.

You smiled nervously to yourself. You got this. “Alright then. First on your list is breakfast with.. Sans and Queen Toriel at 9:30,” you swallowed. Holy shit, Papyrus had friends in very high places. If he turned out to be a dick your career was fucked in any field. Queen Toriel was huge on the school board. You didn’t know who Sans was, but it was probably another high ranking official you just hadn’t heard about. You shook your head a little to clear it and moved down the list, “You have about an hour of down time to get ready and/or relax, then you have a six hour long charity event with St. Jude starting at 11:40 and ending at 6pm. Oh, do you prefer military time?”

Papyrus blinked before chuckling, “THE UH, TWELVE HOUR CLOCK WORKS FINE WITH ME. THANK YOU!”

You smiled a little brighter, “‘s my job, sir.”

He blanched, “OH, NO, THAT’S REALLY NOT NECESSARY! I AM FAR TOO YOUNG TO BE ADDRESSED AS SIR, HUMAN!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, “Apologies.”

He chuckled, “YOU ARE VERY FORMAL!”

“Professionalism is expected, no?”

Papyrus turned to rifle through a rack of hangers, selecting a nice pair of black pants but hesitating on which shirt. He hummed, “EXPECTED, SURE, BUT IT’S SURPRISINGLY RARE! DON’T WORRY, HUMAN! JUST PAPYRUS IS FINE.”

You nod immediately, then realize he’s turned around and didn’t see that, “Ah- Yes si-Of course.” You barely caught yourself, offering nothing but a nervous grin at the hopefully playful eyebrow raise you got from him.

“YOU DO ALL THE ARTSY STUFF, YES? CAN YOU HELP ME PICK AN OUTFIT FOR THE CHARITY EVENT?”

Oh. Okay! You loved fashion! “Well, anything will match with the black pants, so that’s a good start! Are there a pair of shoes you’re for sure wearing?”

Papyrus hummed, “I NORMALLY WEAR MY RED BOOTS, BUT I WASN’T SURE IF IT WOULD BE APPROPRIATE.”

You looked at the schedule again, “…Do you know if there will be children at the event or not? St. Jude is a children’s hospital.”

Papyrus nodded, “IT’S ADULTS ONLY BUT IT’S LIVE STREAMED.”

You snapped your fingers, “Got it! In that case, it probably best ..not to stand out too much? I can definitely see some people thinking you’re trying to take attention away from the cause of the event, you know? Your presence will already be a big hit, so a more simple outfit should be good. Do you have black boots or dress shoes instead?”

He stared at you for a moment. You got nervous again quickly, “Of course, I’m not your media advisor so it’s obviously not up to me or anything I just-“

Papyrus blinked and shook his head, “IT’S ALRIGHT! YOU’RE RIGHT, HUMAN!” He smiled softly and walked over to a shoe rack, wiggling a pair of black dress shoes at you. “WHAT NEXT?”

You blushed, “Oh, uh, is it going to be cold or..”

“I AM A SKELETON, TEMPERATURE DOESN’T BOTHER ME! ALSO IT’S AUGUST!”

You mentally groaned. Stop fucking this up, idiot! “R-Right! Well, charity events are usually ‘creative black tie’ I think? So maybe pair a.. light blue button down with a black blazer or vest? And either a black tie or a dark blue one?”

Papyrus tilted his head a little, hesitating, “…WHAT IS ‘CREATIVE BLACK TIE?’ And, uhm, just curious, but why blue?”

You paused, trying to think how to explain it, “It’s like… very formal, but you can have a little fun with it. Different colors other than black and white, you know? As for the color, there’s plenty of options you could go with. Red or yellow would look nice, that’s an analogous color scheme.” You realized after speaking, that Papyrus probably didn’t know what that meant. “Uh, an analogous color scheme is when the colors are touching in the rainbow, like red, orange, yellow or blue, purple, and red. Anyway, that would look fine, plus St. Jude’s logo is red, you would match, but I think blue would also be good because your magic is orange and blue is the complimentary color to orange.” 

You realized you’d been rambling and blinked. “Sorry. I… get a little excited when it comes to art stuff.” You’re wasting his time, more like.

He gives you a devastatingly kind smile, “DON’T APOLOGIZE, HUMAN! I WOULDN’T HAVE ASKED IF I DIDN’T WANT TO KNOW! BLUE IS MY FAVORITE COLOR, IT’S WHY I WAS CURIOUS.”

You blush a little harder and glance off, “Ah, okay.”

He chuckled, “I LIKE YOUR IDEAS, ANYWAY! I DO HAVE TO GET READY FOR THAT MEETING, THOUGH I DO VERY MUCH LIKE THE IDEA OF A BLUE SUIT. THANK YOU!”

You nodded a little, willing your blush to fade before leaving him to get ready. You made your way back to your office, just down the hall from Papyrus’ dressing room, and nabbed a sticky note. 

Favorite color: Blue

Doesn’t drink coffee

Really likes the red boots

Surprisingly patient, you yapper

You set the multicolored papers on the side of your filing cabinet before copying the same notes into your phone’s notes app. 

It was something started when working with Adaline. She expected you to remember every minute detail about her, which sucked, but got you to remember shit real quick. That came with making strategies. Ie: notes.

You’d just set down your phone when you heard a knock. You glanced up from your desk to see a much shorter skeleton leaning in the open doorway, knuckles resting against the frame. You immediately stood straight, “Oh. Hi!”

You skirted your desk, pocketing your phone on the way before offering your hand to the skeleton.

They raised a brow before taking it. You immediately felt something odd in their hand, like a balloon, then they squeezed. Nothing happened, so you just shook their hand as normal and told them your name. “I’m Mr. Papyrus’ new assistant, can I help you at all?”

They blinked, glancing down at their hand before stuffing it into the pocket of their hoodie. “i’m sans, sans the skeleton. paps is my little brother. and you don’t have to call him mr , kid,” He laughed softly, “relax.”

You blushed, looking away, “Ah, sorry.” You glanced at your clipboard, “..You have a breakfast meeting with your brother and the queen at nine-thirty.”

Sans blinked, “...you know you’re coming with us right?”

You blanched, “I’m what? ”

—-

It was the human’s first day! Papyrus decided he liked them already, even if Brenda told him to be wary.

He couldn’t help it! Their smile was so sweet, they just couldn’t be evil. Granted he said similar shit about the others. He liked them though! 

So far!

They were thankfully very punctual, since Brenda was surely watching them like a hawk. And arrived at his room not long after making it to the building. Papyrus found himself smiling the second he heard the knock on his door making his way over and opening it.

They smiled back, one that was far more genuine than he normally received, “Good morning! Coffee run?”

He blinked. Wait, coffee run? That was very beneath their station. Not in a rude way, of course, just that his assistant had far more important things to do than running to the Starbucks three miles down. That’s what Doordash was for! Not that he liked coffee to begin with. “I DON’T DRINK COFFEE! AND I’M PRETTY SURE THAT’S NOT YOUR JOB, NEW ASSISTANT! DID YOU HAVE TO FETCH COFFEE ORDERS AT YOU PREVIOUS ASSISTANT GIG?”

They nodded a little, looking confused, “I thought that was an everyone thing.”

He raised a brow. It.. It might be a human thing? “WELL, NO MATTER, I DON’T DRINK IT ANYWAY! THANK YOU THOUGH! ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR FIRST DAY?”

“I think so! I was given your schedule on my way in. Do you have a specific time you like to read it? Or do you prefer we go down the list as the day goes on?”

Oh. That was sweet. Normally his assistants didn’t really care about preferences of his.

 “FIRST THING IS FINE WITH ME!” He waved them into the room and unlike his previous assistants, didn’t hesitate, quietly shutting the door behind them.

They smiled softly at their clipboard “Alright then. First on your list is breakfast with.. Sans and Queen Toriel at 9:30,” They paused before shaking their head a little. It kind of reminded Papyrus of the dog he had underground. Cute. “You have about an hour of down time to get ready and/or relax, then you have a six hour long charity event with St. Jude starting at 11:40 and ending at 6pm. Oh, do you prefer military time?”

Papyrus blinked. Wow, they were very serious about the preference thing! He chuckled, “THE UH, TWELVE HOUR CLOCK WORKS FINE WITH ME. THANK YOU!”

They smiled a little brighter, “‘s my job, sir.”

He blanched, “OH, NO, THAT’S REALLY NOT NECESSARY! I AM FAR TOO YOUNG TO BE ADDRESSED AS SIR, HUMAN!” Too young, genuinely yes. But honestly? They were really just far too pretty to be going around calling him sir. Maybe he was a bad boss, actually. 

They laughed softly, “Apologies.”

He chuckled, “YOU ARE VERY FORMAL!” Very polite. He kind of liked it, but more in the way that he felt like they respected him. He liked being able to tell people they could relax in formalities, not the other way around.

“Professionalism is expected, no?”

Papyrus turned to rifle through a rack of hangers, selecting a nice pair of black pants but hesitating on which shirt. He hummed, “EXPECTED, SURE, BUT IT’S SURPRISINGLY RARE! DON’T WORRY, HUMAN! JUST PAPYRUS IS FINE.”

He never understood the hard-ass human formality system. His name works just as well as anyone elses.

“Ah- Yes si-Of course.” He heard they slip and fought a laugh, raising a playful brow in their direction before giving up on finding a shirt. He didn’t really know what he was doing in the fashion department. He found that out the hard way. From one of his past assistants, actually! 

Oh, wait, he had an art major right next to him. This was literally their job. He really needed to get better at asking people for help.

“YOU DO ALL THE ARTSY STUFF, YES? CAN YOU HELP ME PICK AN OUTFIT FOR THE CHARITY EVENT?”

They perked up immediately, “Well, anything will match with the black pants, so that’s a good start! Are there a pair of shoes you’re for sure wearing?”

He hummed, “I NORMALLY WEAR MY RED BOOTS, BUT I WASN’T SURE IF IT WOULD BE APPROPRIATE.” More like they definitely weren’t appropriate. He never got to wear those boots anymore.

They glanced at the schedule again, “…Do you know if there will be children at the event or not? St. Jude is a children’s hospital.”

He nodded, “IT’S ADULTS ONLY BUT IT’S LIVE STREAMED.” He would have much rathered getting to meet the kids his presence was raising money for, but unfortunately that wasn’t how it worked. Apparently. Sometimes he kind of hated being famous.

They snapped your fingers, “Got it! In that case, it probably best ..not to stand out too much? I can definitely see some people thinking you’re trying to take attention away from the cause of the event, you know? Your presence will already be a big hit, so a more simple outfit should be good. Do you have black boots or dress shoes instead?”

Oh, wow. He’s pretty sure that’s the first time he’s had an assistant not use an opportunity to fuck him over. Huh. He stared at them for a moment. 

He watched them get nervous for a moment, before he realized his lack of response was causing it. “Of course, I’m not your media advisor so it’s obviously not up to me or anything I just-“

Papyrus blinked and shook his head, “IT’S ALRIGHT! YOU’RE RIGHT, HUMAN!” He smiled softly and walked over to a shoe rack, wiggling a pair of black dress shoes at them. “WHAT NEXT?”

Their face went a little red, “Oh, uh, is it going to be cold or..”

He grinned, finding the concern both funny and adorable. Humans. “I AM A SKELETON, TEMPERATURE DOESN’T BOTHER ME! ALSO IT’S AUGUST!”

“R-Right! Well, charity events are usually ‘creative black tie’ I think? So maybe pair a.. light blue button down with a black blazer or vest? And either a black tie or a dark blue one?”

Pause. What was that, exactly? He’d never heard those words in that order before, hello. Well, he was used to being confused about new terms, actually, but he had to know why they went with blue.

He tilted his head a little, hesitating, “…WHAT IS ‘CREATIVE BLACK TIE?’ And, uhm, just curious, but why blue?”

They paused for a moment, before launching into a very detailed explanation, “It’s like… very formal, but you can have a little fun with it. Different colors other than black and white, you know? As for the color, there’s plenty of options you could go with. Red or yellow would look nice, that’s an analogous color scheme.” They paused again, apparently realizing he definitely didn’t know what that phrase meant either, “Uh, an analogous color scheme is when the colors are touching in the rainbow, like red, orange, yellow or blue, purple, and red. Anyway, that would look fine, plus St. Jude’s logo is red, you would match, but I think blue would also be good because your magic is orange and blue is the complimentary color to orange.” 

They blinked. “Sorry. I… get a little excited when it comes to art stuff.” 

Oh, they were so nervous! He wasn’t.. Scary was he? He hoped not, they were already his favorite assistant by a long shot, literally just because they answered his damn questions without being a bitch about it. He smiled fondly at them, “DON’T APOLOGIZE, HUMAN! I WOULDN’T HAVE ASKED IF I DIDN’T WANT TO KNOW! BLUE IS MY FAVORITE COLOR, IT’S WHY I WAS CURIOUS.”

Their face went red again and they glanced away, “Ah, okay.”

He chuckled, “I LIKE YOUR IDEAS, ANYWAY! I DO HAVE TO GET READY FOR THAT MEETING, THOUGH I DO VERY MUCH LIKE THE IDEA OF A BLUE SUIT. THANK YOU!”

They nodded immediately and made their way out of his dressing room. He hummed softly, tugging a light blue button up off the rack and pressing it to his chest before looking in the mirror.

Huh.

It did make his magic appear brighter. He looked good. The human really did know what they were talking about.

Awe. He liked them.

Chapter Text

“ What? ”

Sans snickered, “messing with ya, kid. you’ll probably meet the queen eventually, but not on your first day. that’s a bone -ified way to scare you off.”

You sighed in relief, before pausing and shooting him a concerned glance. “Or an assassination attempt. That would be a serious security risk.”

Sans blinked, which. Weird. Monsters are so cool. “…uhhh.. you don’t.. plan on that, do you?”

You blanched, jolting into action and waving your hands, “ NO?! I didn’t- I was just-”

Sans laughed at you, putting more weight against the door before pushing off, “relax, kid.”

You blushed a little, “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this.. High strung?”

Sans grinned, “i hope not, kid. papyrus is pretty energetic.”

You smiled nervously, “I like high energy, for the most part. Also, not a kid.”

He rolled his eyes, “i read your resume and you’re younger than paps. you’re both kids to me.”

Oh. You didn’t know you were younger. Granted, you assumed , but it was interesting to hear it confirmed. “Oh, I didn’t know that,” you shrugged a little, before glancing at the clock. “...You’re going to be late to your meeting. It’s nine-seveteen.”

Sans raised a brow, “you didn’t google anything about him before taking the job?”

You blushed, “..I kind of assumed most information would be wrong. That’s how it was with my last.. Uh.. employment.”

Sans blinked, “...huh.”

“...You’re seriously going to be late to your meeting, the castle is a twenty minute drive.” You twisted your wrist at your side to subtly point at the clock.

Sans snorted, “nah. i know a shortcut.”

You blinked, about to ask where because you love shortcuts, when he just. Disappeared.

“........What the fuck?” You mumbled to yourself, staring at the space he vanished from before turning and procuring a new sticky note.

Sans is Papyrus’ older brother

Sans is a fucking menace?? help??

Papyrus is older than you

No calling him Mr. Papyrus

Or sir, actually

Sans is a magician? What the hell

—-

Papyrus threw a thin orange sweater over his white t-shirt and slipped on a pair of blue jeans for his ‘meeting’ with Sans and Toriel.  It was really just breakfast, but Brenda liked to make it sound more formal. Apparently having weekly-to-monthly ‘meetings’ with the queen of monsterkind was a very good look.

He still had to force himself not to mentally refer to her as Mrs. Fluffybuns. 

Sans teleported into the room, just behind Papyrus who didn’t react because he was far and wide used to Sans’ antics. He silently gestured at his outfit, to which Sans shrugged and gave him a thumbs up.

Papyrus snickered, “I SHOULD BE ASKING MY ASSISTANT ADVICE, HUH? HAVE YOU MET THEM?”

Sans immediately grinned, “oh yeah. gave her a little heart attack. she’ll be fine.”

Papyrus groaned, “LEAVE HER ALONE, SANS, I ACTUALLY LIKE THIS ONE.”

Sans rolled his eyelights, “you liked the one that tried to kill you.”

Papyrus blushed, “FOOD POISONING WOULD NOT KILL ME, AND I LIKED HIM ENOUGH TO WORK WITH ME. I LIKE HER AS A PERSON. SO FAR.”

Sans hummed placatingly and nodded sagely, “of course, bro.”

Papyrus scoffed with a smile, “WHAT’D YOU EVEN TELL HER?”

He snickered, “just that she was joining us for the meeting. i just wanted to see if she was a threat to the queen.”

Papyrus raised a brow, “AND?”

Sans sighed dramatically, stretching a little, “she’s not. she keeps little sticky notes on her desk about you.”

Papyrus paused, real heat rising to his cheekbones, “WAIT, REALLY? WHAT DO THEY SAY?”

Sans snickered, “nothing crazy, chill, bro. just that your favorite color was blue, you like your red boots, you don’t like coffee, and that you’re patient. she probably writes stuff like that down to remember better. she worked a job like this before.”

Papyrus didn’t even comprehend the rest of what Sans was saying after he heard what she’d written. “...THAT’S.. SO SWEET, WHAT? SHE REALLY WROTE THAT DOWN? REALLY ?”

Sans hesitated, realizing that this meant something to his little brother and not wanting to dash his feelings. Sans loved his brother, and he knew exactly who his brother was. He was stubborn and believed in people he shouldn’t, but Sans could never bring himself to tell Papyrus.. No. He couldn’t. No matter what happened to either of them, Papyrus would always know that Sans had his full trust and belief in him. “..yeah, bro. she did. called herself a yapper on the she called you patient in.”

Papyrus laughed, “I LIKE THAT SHE TALKS A LOT! SHE DOESN’T DO IT IN A WAY THAT WASTES TIME OR ANYTHING! I FIND IT INCREDIBLY INTERESTING! DID I TELL YOU SHE ANSWERS MY QUESTIONS? ALL OF THEM?”

Sans caught a wry grin, “that’s great, paps. should be expected, though.”

Papyrus grinned, “NO, I UNDERSTAND WHY ASKING UNRELATED QUESTIONS CAN PISS OFF AN ASSISTANT! THEIR JOB ISN’T TO INFORM ME, AND I’M PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF USING THE INTERNET. I JUST LIKE HEARING IT FROM A HUMAN! ESPECIALLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHAT SHE’S TALKING ABOUT AND.. I DON’T KNOW. I LIKE HER THOUGH.”

Sans chuckled, “yeah, yeah. i think i like her, too. i walked into her office and the first thing she asked was if she could help me with anything, and when i introduced myself she made sure i knew about the meeting. she’s very- uh, on it.”

Papyrus grinned, nudging Sans lightly, “SHE’S KEEPING YOU ON TASK ? AN ANGEL, TRULY. NOW COME ON, WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE.”

—---

Sans had teleported them to the restaurant and found Toriel quickly. Greetings were exchanged, and they ordered their food quickly. Papyrus happily smiled and waved at any fan that pointed him out, to which they excitedly waved back. 

Toriel chuckled softly at the antics. “I hear you got a new assistant, my child?”

Papyrus grinned and nodded, “I DID! TODAY’S HER FIRST DAY.”

Toriel blinked, “..Don’t you have that charity ball today? For her first day?”

Papyrus shrugged, “I ASKED IF WE SHOULD’VE WAITED, SINCE I DIDN’T REALLY NEED AN ASSISTANT, BUT BRENDA WANTED TO THROW HER INTO THE DEEP END TO MAKE SURE SHE COULD HANDLE IT.”

The queen frowned, “..That’s.. Awfully harsh?”

Papyrus shrugged again, looking away, “UNFORTUNATELY. I DON’T REALLY LIKE IT EITHER, BUT EVEN IF SHE DOES FREEZE UP OR SOMETHING, THERE’S NO REAL HARM DONE. I WOULD NEVER FIRE SOMEONE FOR SOMETHING LIKE THAT! I LIKE TO THINK OF BRENDA’S CALL AS A TEACHING OPPORTUNITY..? WE’LL KNOW WHERE SHE STANDS IN TERMS OF MANAGEMENT, AND HELP HER GROW FROM THERE.”

Toriel hummed for a moment, taking in his logic before seeming satisfied, “..I suppose that makes sense.”

Sans stared at Papyrus for a moment, silently wondering how the hell he grew up so fast, before tracing the edge of his plate lightly and piping up, “i met her a little while ago. not bad. probably the nicest we’ve gotten, though.”

Toriel smiled, “Well, that’s good! I hope she does well.”

—

You were NOT doing well. It was your first day and you were rushing with the production team to get everything planned out. You had to call their limo driver to make sure he was ready and available for pick up and drop off to the event and back. You were made aware you were responsible for Papyrus’ makeup (which. okay?) and that you would be with him the entire event.

Which. 

You didn’t understand, since you were never invited to the actual event by your employer before, but it meant you got to wear a pretty dress so you were very cool with it! They made you try on over ten different dresses before finally settling on a blue one that would match Papyrus’ suit. It was pretty, not too revealing, and you felt good in it. You could move easily enough to still do whatever job required of you there, so you weren’t complaining. You packed your purse early, storing six granola bars in one of the hidden pockets because lord knows you wouldn’t be able to afford shit at a concession stand run there, if they even had one. 

You put the dress on a hanger and left it hung on the curtain rod in your office for later before getting back to work. Well. Really you were introducing yourself to everyone. You were a new face, and you wanted to make sure if there was a problem that you could assist with, they knew who you were and what you could do to help.

It didn’t take long for Papyrus’ early brunch to wrap up, meanwhile you were still running back and forth to assist media and catering. You didn’t have anything to do until he got back, so after you’d introduced yourself to everyone you could, you started helping catering bring food to everyone on the upper floors. They thanked you with smiles for the extra hands before dispersing for their break.

You’d made it to the hallway between you and Papyrus’ rooms when you ran straight into a wall when turning a corner. You let out an “Oof-” and stepped back, but didn’t fall or hurt anything.

You glanced up to see what- er, who- you hit, and found Papyrus smiling sheepishly down at you. “SORRY! I DIDN’T SEE YOU THERE.”

You laughed lightly, “That’s fine! I was rushing, it’s my fault.”

He paused and tilted his head, “RUSHING? I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON BREAK?”

You blinked. Holy shit you forgot you got breaks. Adaline must’ve fucked with your brain or something. “..Uh.. I hadn’t realized your meeting was my break. I was helping catering deliver food and setting up your ride to and from the event. Er, our ride, I guess? I was told I’d be joining you there?”

Papyrus raised a brow but nodded, “YOU WILL BE, DON’T WORRY. THOUGH, WHY WERE YOU HELPING CATERING?”

You grinned nervously, “Uh, I was introducing myself to everyone that wasn’t busy, and they mentioned one of their people hadn’t come in today, so I offered to help them carry the food to save a trip.. since I wasn’t doing anything.”

Papyrus stared for a moment before.. fondly(?) shaking his head, “YOU NEED TO TAKE BREAKS, HUMAN! COME, I’M TECHNICALLY ON BREAK NOW, YOU CAN JOIN ME.”

You blinked but nodded, following him to his dressing room, where he motioned for you to sit on the couch while he took a seat at the vanity. You smiled at the broadway-esc lights wrapping around the mirror. “Oh, I was told I’ll be doing your make-up!”

Papyrus blinked, “OH, REALLY? I DIDN’T THINK I’D BE GETTING ANY FOR THIS.”

You shrugged, “I didn’t either, to be honest. Something about your tie and shirt collar not covering something?” It was really loud in the room when Brenda mentioned it, and while you tried your best to understand her, she was being a bit vague.

Papyrus nodded, “OH! I HAVE A SCAR ON MY NECK. THAT’S WHAT SHE WANTS MAKEUP FOR.”

You perked up, “Oh! Okay. Is it raised? How big is it? Is it sensitive?”

Papyrus’ cheekbones went a little peach-y before he cleared his throat, “IT DOESN’T HURT OR ANYTHING! IT’S OLD. DON’T WORRY ABOUT SIZE, IT’S JUST A LITTLE LINE. YOU CAN LOOK IF YOU’D LIKE?”

You smiled, “If that’s okay with you?” Papyrus snickered and lifted his chin. You walked closer to see the scar, noting the placement and size. “It doesn’t look like it dips at all, so this should be easy.” You nodded to yourself before pulling away, “How long does it take for a rash to flare up when face paint was used?”

Papyrus blinked. “..THE RASH WOULD TAKE THIRTY MINUTES TO FULLY FORM, BUT I NOTICED THE REACTION ITSELF WITHIN TEN.” He glanced off, “..WHY?”

You blushed a little, “Oh, for uh- I just wanted to know so that-” You took a deep breath and restarted, knowing that if you kept trying to build on your sentence you would just work yourself up. “Do you want to test my products on your arm now before using them there just in case you have a reaction? I’d hate to use it on your neck right before we leave just for it to start reacting then.”

Papyrus paused, staring at you for a minute before relaxing, “THAT SOUNDS PERFECT, HUMAN!”

You grinned, “Okay! Let me go get my bag from my office, I’ll be right back!”

—-

Papyrus watched as she left, still mentally reeling. He was already surprised by Sans not immediately having a problem with her like he did the others, but.

One: Human . Please take a break. On one hand, he loves her energy. Loves that it matches his, especially. He didn’t really take breaks, always responding to emails and whatnot, but he also wasn’t paid by the hour. She was, and she deserved to get paid for her work. 

Two: Introducing herself to people was actually great, he wasn’t complaining about that in the slightest. Because he ran through assistants so much, most of his staff wouldn’t know what they looked like or their name, even if he sent their information in a company email.

Three: Helping catering was sweet, and he hadn’t even thought of testing makeup elsewhere before applying it to visible or more sensitive areas. That would’ve saved him a lot of itchy face and neck. 

..Wait, no, bad Papyrus. This is literally bare minimum. Stop being traumatized. 

She knocked lightly on the door, and he snapped out of his thoughts, “COME IN.” 

Why she bothered knocking when she was just in the room was lost on him, but he appreciated the thought. She smiled and waved a little makeup bag for him to see. It was checkerboarded what he could guess to be her ‘house color’ and had the Hogwarts insignia on the front with a matching keychain attached to the zipper. She set it on the vanity and immediately unzipped it, digging for a moment before pulling out a white bottle with a silver cap.

She handed it to him and went back to digging around her back, allowing him to look at the label and ingredients. “...SUNSET MAKEUP?”

She glanced up and smiled, “It’s a human brand of foundation created for halloween clown, or- really any makeup look that would imply changing your skin color. I’ve heard that some monster’s use it for daily wear since most human makeup brands don’t make foundations or concealers for monster skin tones. Lasts all day, water proof, and shouldn’t cause a reaction, but we’ll find out!” 

Papyrus hummed, popping the cap off to look at the pump. It was perfectly clean and the bottle was heavy. “HAVE YOU EVER USED IT?”

His assistant pulled out another bottle, same brand but clearish-pink and half empty, as well as a very soft looking brush. “Not white, but I have used their blue shade for a Halloween costume! It worked awesome . You have to use oil-based cleansers to remove it, even running my arm under the sink and scrubbing wouldn’t make it budge.”

Papyrus blinked, “THAT’S IMPRESSIVE! WHAT’S THE CLEAR BOTTLE?”

She perked up and handed it to him, “This is primer. You put this on first to make sure what you apply stays. It basically just makes you a little sticky. We don’t have to use it if you’d rather not, the foundation will hold just fine on it’s own.”

Do not get emotional because she’s giving you a choice. This is her job, Papyrus. Get it together. “AH- I’D RATHER NOT BE STICKY.”

She laughed softly, “Gotcha. Did you want to put it on your arm yourself, or would you rather I do it?”

He blinked, “I DON’T REALLY KNOW HOW IT WORKS, SO I’D RATHER YOU TAKE IT.”

She smiled and nodded, taking the brush, “I’ve got you.”

His soul fluttered in his chest. How bad was he to want to believe her?

Chapter Text

She did a half pump of the foundation on a small, plastic lid, dipping her brush into it, before gently taking his forearm and dabbing the product on his radius. The brush was soft, and the foundation was cold, the sensation almost enough to make him shiver if not for the fact that he’d locked down all movement so as to not startle her. 

This was only her second time making contact with him- or potentially any monster- and Papyrus wanted so badly for her to like him. It matched the color of his bones perfectly, blending seamlessly to the point that it was only the air chilling the still-wet area allowing him to distinguish where product was applied.  

“GOOD QUALITY, FOR SURE! HOW MUCH DID IT COST YOU?”

His assistant leaned back, setting the makeup back into her little bag, “I think.. Ten or fifteen? I bought it back in June,” She laughed softly, taking  out her phone and tapping on it until she smiled, “Fifteen not counting shipping.”

He nodded a little, mentally taking note to ask Brenda to reimburse her. “A GOOD DEAL, I ASSUME?”

She smiled and nodded, “I like it, even if I don’t use it often. I’m honestly glad I'll finally give it purpose, working here!”

Oh. She was incredibly sweet. 

He laughed softly, “I DO HOPE IT WORKS.”

She gained a slightly nervous smile, “Haha, me too.”

—-

It wasn’t like you felt your job here was depending on it, or anything. Digging in your makeup bag again, a gift from you sister when you were fifteen, you pulled out your favorite two eyeshadow palettes. One was rainbow, and one was rainbow and glitter . You turned to Papyrus, “Do you- Uh- You said it takes ten minutes?”

He perked up, nodding  “TEN FOR ME TO FEEL IT, THIRTY FOR THE RASH TO APPEAR.”

You hesitated, “Would you mind if I did my makeup while we waited? I realized what I have on doesn’t really match my dress..”

He sat straight, “OF COURSE! THIS IS YOUR BREAK. ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE NOT HUNGRY OR ANYTHING?”

You couldn’t help but snicker, “That’s my job, I fear.” He was.. Surprisingly sweet. Your first day was going well ! 

Papyrus shook his head good-naturedly, “YOU’RE NOT WORKING RIGHT NOW .”

You shrugged, “Can I use your fancy vanity?” 

Papyrus snorted, “GO AHEAD. I’LL PUT SOMETHING ON TV, IF THAT’S ALRIGHT?”

You smiled, “You’re the boss.” Wait- TV? You looked around the room again, noticing a large flat-screen in the corner. Huh.

—-

Papyrus blushed a little at the name, “R-RIGHT.” He flipped through channels but found nothing of interest, so he switched to Disney+. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for, “The Nightmare Before Christmas.” 

She glanced at the screen and smiled, “I love that movie.”

Papyrus grinned, “I GOT COMPARED TO JACK SKELLINGTON ENOUGH TO WATCH IT, SIMPLY TO SEE WHAT THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT. HE’S DEVILISHLY HANDSOME, SO I DON’T MIND!”

She laughed lightly, turning back to the mirror and using his fingertips to apply swatches of blue to her eyelids with practiced ease. “Remember how I said I used the blue foundation for Halloween? I dressed as Sally.”

Papyrus imagined her with blue skin and red hair before smiling, “REMINDS ME OF UNDYNE!”

His assistant was mid-running something along her eyelashes, before turning back to him, “...She’s captain of the royal guard, no?”

Papyrus nodded, “SHE BODYGUARDS THE KING AND QUEEN AS WELL, THOUGH THEY DON’T PARTICULARLY NEED IT- WHAT IS THAT?”

She paused, lifting her hand to gesture to the wand, “This? It’s mascara. It’s just to make your- er, a hum, no- uh. It’s to make eyelashes look darker. And longer, depending on the kind you use. I actually have one that’s blue, but it’s the wrong shade..”

Papyrus struggled not to laugh at her fumble, letting it go quietly, “DOES IT HURT?”

She shook her head, “Only if I poke myself in the eye or pull at my lashes.”

He nodded a little, “OH, OKAY!”

She smiled and turned to the mirror, quickly giving herself little eyeliner wings, something he knew from Alphys’ anime, before getting up to sit with him on the couch and watch the movie. 

Papyrus’ soul fluttered with the closeness and he mentally glared at it. He had no idea why his soul was acting the fool with her! She was literally just being a kind person. She was doing her job. He’d grown up from his time in the underground. He understood social nuances better-

(Or was he just masking better?)

-and he knew he was being dumb.  

He took a deep breath and relaxed, pointedly ignoring that her perfume smelled heavenly, keeping his attention firmly on the TV. Thirty minutes passed without him even noticing, startling at an alarm on her phone going off. 

—-

You quickly shut off your alarm. After receiving the schedule, you’d set an alarm for an hour before each timestamp. It was officially time to get ready for the charity ball! You were nervous, but figured it couldn’t go too bad. 

At least not worse than the time he … Claude tried to talk you into.. Literally anything. You’d take a ball and fancy dresses over that any day! Also, since Papyrus was so tall, you got to wear heels ! You could never wear heels around Adaline or Claude because it would make you taller than them, which drove you insane because as long as they were comfortable, the added height was incredibly satisfying. Not to mention your mother being a photographer. You got used to heels quick as a kid.

You blinked, realizing times had shot passed, “Is your arm okay? It’s been thirty minutes, it would’ve caused a rash by now, right?”

Papyrus, who you’d startled with your alarm, oops, smiled, “AH, YES! IT SEEMS YOUR FANCY HUMAN MAKEUP WORKS!”

You couldn’t help but grin- Yay! You get to keep your job! “Awesome! I’ll apply it then leave you to get ready, does that work for you?”

…It was kind of a test, though you would never admit that. Would he flirt? Imply you should get ready together ? While you were genuinely comforted with the fact that he was a skeleton and probably didn’t have the same reproductive systems as a human- you do feel bad for thinking about that- you needed to know where he stood. 

You weren’t willing to put yourself in that position again. You’d drop everything and become a teacher if you had to. A small, quiet part of you wondered if your Grandmother would still be willing to offer you the spare bedroom back in your hometown. LA, Los Angeles, was far and wide different from LA, Louisiana, and you missed home a lot of the time. 

Maybe you’d go home for Christmas. 

“THAT’S FINE! DO YOU NEED THE LIGHT FROM THE MIRROR?”

His voice snapped you back to reality. Woah. You did not get lost in thought like that often and you did not like it.

Feeling heat rise to your face, you quickly nodded, hopping off the couch and grabbing the makeup needed out of your bag again, setting it gently in front the mirror while Papyrus made his way to you, sitting in the almost-too-small vanity chair. You forced a smile to your face and waved the decently sized bottle a little before applying one pump of the product directly to your brush. You figured that since it was a straight line and blending wasn’t needed, you could forgo applying it to a flat surface first, especially since if you put it out your hand it wouldn't come off without an oil based cleanser. 

Papyrus tilted his head back without a word, so you leaned over his very long legs to brush the product over the long, thin scar. It looked.. Little. But you knew by placement that it was probably terrifying to get. You hoped it hadn’t hurt much. 

You had a similar scar, but you found out the hard way that you just had a high pain tolerance. Ouch.

He shivered lightly at the first stroke and you smiled apologetically, “Sorry, I know it’s pretty cold.”  You saw him open his mouth a little, then shut it. You paused for a second, letting him decide if he was going to respond, before quickly finishing the coverup in a few more strokes. It was fast and simple. You could do this for him, everyday if he pleased.

You backed away and he looked at the coverage in the mirror, “WOWIE!” You had to fight a snort at that. You’d literally never heard someone say that in real life before. “THIS LOOKED GREAT, HUMAN!”

You gave a polite nod, “It’s simple, but thank you! I’ll uh… be in my office.”

Papyrus smiled at you, something that you were quickly realizing was his normal which was very different to what you were used to, and rose from the chair as you grabbed your bag and took your leave. 

You were so caught up in thought, and so startled out of them that you hadn’t even realized he’d passed your test. 

…huh. Good guy.

—- 

Likes Nightmare before Christmas

Friends with Undyne (captain of royal guard) (that’s so cool???)

Can feel cold on his bones, but it doesn’t bother him much 

—-

You touched up your makeup in your office before smiling at your reflection. Awe. You looked good. You didn’t want to waste time, knowing the convention center was a good 30 minute drive, so you quickly threw your dress on. You genuinely thanked God you were able to zip it without help because wow that would be embarrassing on your first day. You shifted around to make sure you wouldn’t be flashing anyone if you moved too much, before sitting to slip on the heels the production crew gave you. They wanted you in at least two inch heels, which you snickered at and asked if that had six inches. They were comically relieved, since apparently Papyrus looked scary if he stood publicly next to a too-short assistant? Which? Was kind of weird to you but you didn’t ask.

Anyway! You got some pretty blue heels out of it! 

You checked your purse again, making sure you had both of your cards, your ID and driver's License, your ID as Papyrus’ assistant, and all the snacks you could possibly need, throwing in two more granola bars and a couple bags of fruit snacks. You already had some Jolly Ranchers. You took a deep breath, checking yourself in your phone’s camera, then smiled. 

“Okay.”

“Wait- shit - Hair!”

—-

It didn’t take long for Papyrus to get dressed, quickly unlacing his shoes and placing them in the rack before slipping out of his jeans. He nearly waited to take off his shirt, almost deciding to put his pants on first, before an image of Winnie the Pooh flashed in his skull. He scowled, but struggled not to laugh at himself as he quickly pulled his sweater over his head before unbuttoning his shirt. 

He wasn’t really shy walking around his room naked- no, he wasn’t shy at all, actually- sighing at the pleasant sensation of the A/C blowing softly against his bones.

Papyrus crossed the room the three long steps, before reaching where his clothes for the ball were neatly hung. He put the pants on first, simply out of spite to the yellow bear, before carefully slipping on the powder blue button down, buttoning it up and tucking it neatly into his black slacks. 

He tugged on the blazer, feeling a tad odd in so many layers (as always), then grabbed the tie. He stared at it for a moment before just hanging it around the back of his neck and moving put on his shoes. He laced them quickly and walked out of his room, staring at his chest and hand as he struggled to correctly tie his tie. 

He wasn’t watching where he was going in the slightest and almost immediately bumped into something. His hand shot out to stabilize-

His assistant. Oops.

—-

You startled, looking up from your purse as you bump into a “ wall” again. You had to stop doing that, what the fuck.

Papyrus blushed, lifting his hand from your shoulder and stepping back, “SORRY! I WASN’T LOOKING WHERE I WAS GOING. ER. AGAIN.”

You laughed softly, “It’s fine, it’s fine! Neither was I.” You looked at him well, taking in the soft blue suit. It was fitted in a way that suggested he had a smaller waist despite being a skeleton, the blue perfectly contrasted his magic, and the shoes looked nice! “You look great!”

He perked up, “THANK YOU! THE GREAT- UH- I STRIVE TO BE GREAT ALWAYS!”

You silently ponder why he switched his sentence, but decided not to push. You were his assistant, not his friend.

… not yet at least. Hopefully. 

…You wanted to be friends with him, dammit. This was your teacher’s pet shit coming to bite you in the ass all over again. You always wanted to be friends with your teachers and now you want to be friends with your boss. Look where that got you with Claude and Adaline.

“YOU’RE QUITE STUNNING YOURSELF, HUMAN!”

You blush, “Oh- thank you. I’ve never been to anything like this before. Just high school dances, really.”

Papyrus laughed, “I HAD NEVER EXPERIENCED ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE ARRIVING TO THE SURFACE! I’VE BEEN TO A COUPLE DANCES LIKE THESE, BUT THERE IS A SURPRISING LACK OF DANCING AND MORE ODD LOOKS THAN ANYTHING.”

You frown, “I hope that’s changed after you’ve been a celebrity for so long?”

He sighed but his smile didn’t drop as he led you downstairs to where the limo was surely waiting. “YOU WOULD BE SURPRISED, HUMAN!”

Chapter Text

You were careful down the stairs, clutching your purse protectively at your side. Papyrus, the gentlemen, assisted you down the bottom step. You smiled lightly, taking his hand and stepping down. 

It was a quick walk to the exit, Gracie giving you a thumbs up from the front desk as you passed. You grinned and waved bye before slipping out the door behind Papyrus. You stood off to the side, letting the photographer take a photo of Papyrus next to the limo, the driver opened the door for him.

It was enough to make you feel incredibly out of place. Adaline and Claude were fancy as hell at all times, and in your head, of course you knew they were pampered like this, but you were never included .

The driver and photographer motioned for you to follow him, so you did, slipping into the limo and sitting comfortably to yourself. This actually.. wasn’t your first time in a limo. Your grandfather was pretty rich when you were younger, but lost a lot of wealth due to a couple hurricanes destroying property. Before that, he’d picked you up in a limo to go to a hotel.

Oh, and your mom had gotten one for your tenth birthday for a 20 minute ride with ten girls, only two of which spoke to you anymore. 

You looked around at the pretty LEDs lining the ceiling, and a small table with a large hole in the middle, lined with waterproof plastic and filled with ice cubes, bottled water, and a wine bottle.

Papyrus hunched in his seat as the car took off, careful not to numb his head in the low ceiling while clearly struggling to get his tie to work.

You were a little nervous to offer help. 

Once, Claude had used your offer to get you close before attempting to grab you, and another time, Adaline had taken the question offensively. 

—

“As if I need help! I’m perfectly fine!”

—

You had to do her tie anyway, though she bitched at you the entire time. 

After another thirty seconds of watching the poor skeleton struggle, you offer, “Do- Do you want help?”

Not need. Don’t imply he needs help. That’ll only piss- er. Well. Maybe Papyrus was a little different.

Papyrus perked immediately, “YOU KNOW HOW TO TIE ONE? NORMALLY I CAN DO IT FINE WITH A MIRROR, BUT I AM UNFORTUNATELY LACKING AT THE MOMENT.”

You grin, relaxing a little, “Yeah.” 

Papyrus smiled and gave you the ends. You sit up and quickly tie it, being careful not to smudge the makeup. (You were so curious about the scar. You so wanted to know how he got it, but you knew it wasn’t your place to ask, nor would it be polite. You’d only just met the guy!) You left it a little looser for him to tighten how he pleased, unsure if you could strangle a skeleton but being unwilling to try.

You pulled away to give him space, sitting politely across from him.

Papyrus tilted his head a little, and you nervously explained, “I figured you’d want to stretch your legs out? Since the uh… The- you know.”

—-

Oh. And here he thought he’d made her uncomfortable, while she was concerned over his comfort. He smiled reassuringly, “I’M QUITE USED TO IT, I ASSURE YOU.”

She gained a light grimace, “You… shouldn’t have to be.”

Papyrus felt his soul pang a little, “….PERHAPS NOT, BUT IT’S ALRIGHT!” Simply to aleve her worries, he let his legs stretch across the seats. 

She smiled a little, so he let it go, deftly adjusting his tie to rest comfortably against his throat, “THANK YOU.”

She nodded a little, “Of course.”

—-

It was a solid thirty minute drive to the convention center. The building was downright grand , gorgeous architecture making up a simply beautiful building. You smiled out the window adjusting your purse to make your exit quick and smooth. 

Papyrus carefully folded his legs again as the limo rolled to a slow stop outside the building. You hesitated seeing bright lights and flashing cameras, but Papyrus lightly tapped your shoulder, offering a reassuring smile, “YOU DON’T NEED TO WORRY! I’M SURE THEY’LL LOVE YOU, HUMAN!”

—-

Her brow furrowed a little bit, “….Thank you, Papyrus.”

He frowned a little as you continued to stare at the crowd with a nearly fearful look, “DO YOU NOT.. WANT FAME? OR TO BE SEEN HERE?”

She blinked, turning to him, “It’s not that exactly- I’m just-“ She huffed lightly, looking at her nails before lightly picking at the skin of her cuticles, “I’m… camera shy.”

Papyrus softened, a smile growing on his face. That was a much easier fix than one of his assistants literally just not wanting to be seen with a monster.

“IS THERE ANY WAY I CAN HELP”

Her face went pink, “Oh, it’s really nothing-“

Papyrus immediately shook his head. He would’ve perhaps been a little upset if she just wanted to ‘preserve her reputation’ or something, but if she was just a little nervous about being talked about online, he could totally give her a pep talk, or have her dropped off at the back entrance instead!

“IT’S IMPORTANT TO YOU, SO IT’S IMPORTANT TO ME! WE’RE A TEAM NOW!”

——

Your makeup looks too good to cry. You force yourself to nod a little, “I’ll be okay, I swear.”

Papyrus offered a hand, “HOW ABOUT THIS? I’LL GO FIRST, AND YOU CAN STAND BEHIND ME UNTIL YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE ENOUGH TO WALK SIDE BY SIDE!”

It’s not enough. You know in your heart that this is a bad idea. You worked with the media a lot, sure, but you made sure your face, nor your name never appeared online. You moved to California for a reason.

They could not find you.

“That sounds great.”

You always had been perservierent.

—-

Papyrus walked with smooth confidence, smiling and waving at the cameras while subtly shielding the woman behind him. He didn’t know why she was ‘camera shy’ but she was kind to him, so he would return that kindness best he could.

Maybe this way, she’d stick around. 

Maybe he’d actually have a teammate.

—- 

You did your best to keep your eyes down or on Papyrus. You’d be fine. 

You’re fine.

You’re only with the most popular , well known monster in the world while trying to stay hidden.

Maybe your makeup, the way your hair was done, the fancy dress, and the change in height would save you. Maybe he was racist enough to stay off the monster news.

You took a deep breath and walked just behind and to the left of Papyrus, keeping your purse between you out of a probably irrational fear of it being grabbed by paparazzi. He glanced back at you and smiled, and you made your way into the gala.

The child in you was replaying an audio bite from season one of My Little Pony: ‘The grand galloping gala!!’

You shook your head lightly, smiling to yourself as you imagined what child you would think about how your life turned out.

…probably surprised you survived past sixteen. Or twelve. Or at all.

“I HAVE TO MINGLE, HUMAN! WOULD YOU LIKE TO TAG ALONG OR WAIT SOMEWHERE?”

You blinked out of your thoughts, “It’s up to you si- Papyrus. Where would I be more useful?”

—-

He didn’t want to be alone with these people. And he didn’t want to leave her alone! The statistics of how often human women are victimized, especially in her age range, is terrifying! “WITH ME!”

She flashed him a smile and nodded, “Of course. Is there anyone you need me to keep an eye out for? A friend?”

Papyrus chuckled, “METTATON-“ A older gentleman flashed Papyrus an odd look, and he immediately lowered his voice, “Mettaton couldn’t make it unfortunately, but there is a human that usually comes here who’s.. a little…” His skull went a little orange, “Unsavory, in terms of comments.”

——

You blinked. You didn’t think Papyrus was capable of being cynical in the slightest but you didn’t fuck with whoever this guy was. “Oh. If he’s bad enough for you to say something, I definitely don’t want to be around him.”

He looked sheepish, “I’m sure he’s great inside! But he’s not the kindest to monsters, and I wouldn’t want him to be jealous of you because you work for me!”

You huffed a soft laugh as you followed Papyrus deeper into the room, giving the old man who gave Papyrus a look a decent glare just to see his face turn red before he was lost in the crowd. You liked that Papyrus was loud.

(It took attention off of you.)

Papyrus was stopped by a couple people, who he chatted happily with. It was odd to see how upbeat and exciting he was, even with killjoys and windbags. He was the exact same on camera as he was in person.

(Except the couple times he went quiet around you. And how silent his dressing room was when he was alone. Adaline and Claude were always yapping to someone, if not themselves.)

After a little while, a young woman was especially touchy with him. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and it occurred to you that this was probably what Papyrus meant when he wanted you near so you were quick to tap his shoulder and make up an urgent email he needed to be briefed on.

He shot you an appreciative look and bid the women farewell before leading you away. You reached a table with a water dispenser, but decided against it. You hadn’t arrived early enough to be sure it wasn’t spiked in some way, nor was there security standing nearby. Papyrus let out a near-comical “WHEW!” 

You laughed softly, “Does that happen to you often?”

He sighed, leaning on the wall, “YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE.”

 You grinned, “Papyrus the chick magnet? ”

He coughed, tapping his fist on his sternum, before laughing. It sounded a lot different than the laugh you normally heard from him. The guests here always got some variation of “Nyeh-Heh-Heh,” which was genuinely hilarious and incredibly contagious, but this laugh was from the chest and a little deeper than his normal speaking tone.

“ PLEASE DO NOT TELL MY BROTHER THAT, I WILL LITERALLY NEVER HEAR THE END OF IT.”

You grinned, holding out your pinky, “Your secret is safe with me.”

He looked at your hand, giggles fading, “WHAT- Er, What does that mean?”

—-

He hadn’t even realized he’d lost control of his volume. Being touched by random people was surprisingly common, but usually his assistants didn’t intervene in any way. Granted, it wasn’t their job, they were assistants, not bodyguards, but he was highly appreciative of the effort. 

Not to mention she made him laugh .

Like. Really laugh. Not the theatrical laugh he normally gave, even when he did find something funny.

His real “HAHAHAHA” laugh that was reserved for Sans and childhood memories.

What she said wasn’t even that funny! It just caught him majorly off guard.

Whatever. (Haha)

He stared at her outstretched little finger as she smiled up at him, “Oh- uh- It’s a pinky promise. It’s something you, or, mainly little girls, I guess, learn pretty young. It’s… childish, maybe, but when you pinky promise you’re really not supposed to break it. I’ve never broken a pinky promise. But it’s also kind of playful?”

Oh. This was a human tradition (Specifically human girls?) that she was sharing with him.

Of course, this probably wasn’t anything to her, something that was so basic to her in her culture or childhood that she hadn’t even realized he wouldn’t know what it was… but. It was something special to him. To have it shared. 

To be seen as ‘human’ even for just a moment.

He smiled, “OKAY! What do I do?”

She grinned, offering her pinky closer, “You just wrap your pink around mine and squeeze.”

—-

He was incredibly cautious, gently wrapping his long, bone pinky around yours, before squeezing. The touch lingered for a moment, before he pulled away, straightening. He smiled sweetly, before looking off. His expression fell with whatever he saw.

You followed his gaze to see-

Claude.

You grimaced, turning your head back to Papyrus. “Is that the uh… the guy you don’t like?”

Papyrus blushed, “I- Well I wouldn’t say-“ You raised a brow and he caved, “Okay fine, but-“

You glanced back and- oh he was coming over. Okay, act natural-

“Hey, dustmite! How’ve you been! I see you got my gift.”

You stiffened. ‘Dustmite’ or ‘Dusty’ was a commonly used monster slur. It was made right around when monsters surfaced, but it wasn’t usually tolerated, especially at events like this one.

—-

Papyrus didn’t react to the slur, he’d gotten it often, especially from this human. But the ‘gift’ thing threw him off. “GIFT?”

Claude rolled his eyes, annoyedly drawling his assistant’s name. She stiffened, “The NDA-“

Claude rudely waved her off, “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine-“

Papyrus spaced out whatever else Claude said. The NDA, ‘gift,’ her recognizing him.

Brenda mentioning not being able to find her before, being offered on a ‘silver platter.’

His assistant was the ‘gift.’

—-

You took a step back, slipping just a little bit behind Papyrus. Of all things, you didn’t think Claude would break the NDA of all things, but at the very least you shouldn’t be in trouble. In all honesty, you hadn’t even noticed his ‘gift’ comment, far more conserved about him calling Papyrus a slur, but Papyrus didn’t even flinch.

You took a deep breath, ignoring the bragging and far too familiar small talk for a moment and starting to plan an excuse to get the fuck away from him, when Claude just… left.

You supposed your lack of reaction was enough to bore him.

—-

Papyrus had never been a glare- r, but he lit Claude up with a small orange flare in his right eye, subconsciously copying what he’d seen his brother do to scare people off when they were kids until Claude grew either bored or uncomfortable and walked off. 

He immediately dismissed his magic, and turned to his assistant, who was… entirely unphased. Maybe a little pissed off?

“ARE.. ARE YOU OKAY?”

She blinked, “Are you? He called you a slur.”

Papyrus also blinked, “HE CALLED YOU A GIFT??”

She stared at him for a moment before smiling a little, “…I guess we’re both used to bullshit.”

He stared back, then snickered, “…I GUESS WE ARE.”

—-

The night went on without many other issues. A couple rude people, but nothing horrible. You were able to dodge Adaline’s sight by subtly slipping behind Papyrus, which he snickered about for a solid five minutes after the fact.

About four hours into the gala, Papyrus was staring at the water table, brows furrowed. You perked up, “Did you want water? I could go get it for you.”

Papyrus smiled softly, “Oh, no, I’m just a tad confused. We were told there would be catering or a concession stand, but I have seen neither. All I ate today was brunch, so I’m not looking forward to waiting three hours to eat.”

He laughed sheepishly, then froze, “WAIT. Did you eat at all? You barely took your break!”

You blinked, “Uhhh.. now that I think about it, no. I kind of forgot about that.”

He blanched, “ARE YOU OKAY? DI-Dizzy?”

You laughed softly, “I’m fine! I do that pretty often. It’s why- oh!” You whipped to the side, digging out two granola bars from your purse and offering one to Papyrus. “It’s annoying that they went back on their word about the concessions, but I carry granola bars and fruit snacks in case I or someone else forgets to eat.”

—-

He stared at her bright grin for a second before slowly taking the granola bar. “THANK YOU.”

She nodded, “Do you like fruit snacks? I have a couple bags of those too!”

He couldn’t help but smile fondly at her, “That sounds great.”

She immediately dug a pouch out of her bag and gave it to him “Of course!”

Papyrus took it, looking at the little design on the bag before bowing lightly to her, “THANK YOU.” 

—- 

After his thanks, he said your name. 

Funnily enough, you’d quickly gotten used to ‘human.’

…You found you liked your name coming from his voice.

The gala ended without any fanfare. The limo dropped you two back at the office, both of you hastily changing in your office and his dressing room respectively.

You were relieved to get out of your heels, dropping the dress and putting it on the hanger before quickly changing into the clothes you came in. It felt much later than six, and you were fully prepared to sleep the moment you got home, waving Papyrus goodbye as you both clocked out, Papyrus taking off in his red convertible while you slipped into your Kia. 

You took a deep breath, squeezing the steering wheel for… comfort? Release? Something. You felt better after. You checked your blind spots and moved your stick shift into drive before taking off home.

Talk about a successful first day!

Hopefully you weren’t noticed.

Chapter Text

The next day at work was much more calm. You smiled and waved at Gracie as you entered the building, an energy drink in hand. You normally didn’t splurge, but your social battery was still drained from the night before, so you let yourself not suffer for once.

You had found a pretty blazer-suit-skirt combo in your closet that you’d definitely stolen from your mom when you were a teenager, but it somehow still fit so you were wearing it! You felt a bit like Elle Woods, but who didn’t love Legally Blonde? 

You made it to your office without issue, taking the elevator and tapping your foot to the music inside. Mettatton was stuck in your head again, and you hummed it for the duration of your walk to your office.

You plopped into your desk with a smile, snatching a couple sticky notes and scribbling down some things you noticed the previous night.

White foundation works! (No reaction)

Has a small scar on neck

Knows Claude???

CLAUDE CALLS HIM SLURS??

Claude called me a gift, Papyrus got mad? Sweetie pie??? Please be more worried about the slurs tho >:0

Looked great in blue! Use it more if possible (use primary color palette?)

figure out if he looks better in silver or gold soon!! some signature jewelry could be cool 

FIND A WAY FOR HIM TO WEAR THE DAMN BOOTS 

Likes fruit snacks :D

Satisfied, you drop your pen back into the cup where you stored most of your stationary and slap the sticky notes on the side of your filing cabinet before logging into your computer and desperately searching your name, praying nothing comes up.

Your prayers are thankfully returned as you get nothing but old lawyers and congressmen that share either your first or last name.

You take a deep breath, halfway through typing something else when a sharp knock rang against your door. You immediately perked up, shutting the tab and calling out, “It’s open!”

There was a moment's pause before Papyrus himself opened the door, peeking inside and smiling before fully entering. “GOOD MORNING, HUMAN!”

You smiled back, “Good morning!”

He pulled out his phone and moved to show you something. A twitter feed?

…

You were fucking trending.

“MYSTERY GIRL??”

“#PAPYRUS’DATE?”

“#bluebeauty”

Your heart dropped in your chest, but Papyrus seemed ecstatic. “THEY LOVE YOU!! YOU’RE VERY POPULAR!” He grinned and lightly tapped the screen to bring attention to a frankly gorgeous photo of you on the red carpet with the caption:

Who is she??? #bluebeauty

Shit.

…At least they liked you.

—-

Papyrus was so happy to wake up to his assistant’s popularity! He knew they were a little camera shy, but it seemed like they were just nervous about being liked online! Which was totally understandable! But when he showed her…

Sans had always been the most perceptive monster Papyrus had ever known, but even he could tell that she wasn’t exactly.. happy. Oddly enough, Papyrus’ soul squeezed. The discomfort and wave of fear could only be explained as him being scared of her disliking him. He wasn’t sure why else he’d experience such a strong emotion.

He watched her face go from happy to mildly horrified in about three seconds flat. “…HUMAN?”

She shook her head almost frantically, again reminding him of the dog underground, and offered a weak smile. “Sorry! This is.. really cool! I never thought people would like me like this, let alone call me something like..” She looked at the phone and giggled lightly, “…The blue beauty? I’m flattered.”

He stared for a moment, unsure whether or not to let it go. 

…

He lets it go. The last thing he wants to do is be the reason she’s scared. “..YOU SHOULD BE! YOU DESERVE IT!” There wasn’t much else he could say, other than the very private comment that she shouldn’t be all that surprised since she was a beauty.

But.

She’s his employee.

Bad Papyrus.

But he could still think she was beautiful. Soft, shiny hair, perfect curves, her dress barely hiding love handles that he so badly wanted his hands on-

DUDE.

YOUR EMPLOYEE.

ALSO- QUITE OUT OF CHARACTER?

Papyrus blushed, blinking and putting his phone away. He wasn’t sure where these… uh. Thoughts. We’re coming from, but! He was better than that!

His assistant- ASSISTANT. EMPLOYEE. RELAX PAPYURS.- raised a brow, a side smile quirking her lip, showing off the most adorable dimple.

SHIT.

“DID YOU HAVE FUN?”

She smiled and nodded, “I did! Thank you for inviting me!”

He puffed his chest on instinct, stroking a pose, “OF COURSE! IT WAS MY PLEASURE!”

It was completely worth it to see her soften, a genuine grin crossing her face. 

It made his soul race.

…WHAT IS GOING ON.

——-

Papyrus was adorable to you. You giggled softly at his pose before taking a sip of your drink and putting your previous thoughts out of your mind. They were calling you the ‘Blue Beauty’ which meant they couldn’t find your name.

Which means you looked different enough.

You smiled at your boss, tucking a strand of dyed hair behind your ear and pulling up his schedule on your computer. It was pretty bare- bones (haha. Wait, is that offensive?), so you simply read it out to him again.

“Okay, you have a photo shoot at nine, a late lunch with Sans at two, a meeting with Ms. Brenda at three, and a meeting with.. King Asgore at five-thirty.”

Damn. Papyrus was the mascot of Monster Kind, yeah, but he sure had friends in very high places.

He flashed you a grin, “QUITE THE EASY DAY COMPARED TO LAST NIGHT!”

You nodded, quietly relieved. “Am I accompanying you with anything today?”

Papyrus nodded, “THE PHOTOSHOOT FOR SURE! AFTER THAT YOU’RE PRETTY MUCH FREE TO HELP OUT WHEREVER OR RELAX!

That was still crazy to you, how simply low maintenance Papyrus is. You were on your feet all day with Claude and Adaline and they were nowhere near as important, just famous off pretty privilege. Papyrus was actually making a difference.

The website updated, and you watched as the meeting with the king disappeared, rescheduled for two weeks later. “…Uh… nevermind on that last meeting. It’s been rescheduled.”

Papyrus blinked and looked at the screen, “HUH. OKAY! WELL, I HOPE YOU HAVE EATEN, OR PLAN ON EATING A PROPER BREAKFAST BEFORE THE SHOOT, BECAUSE I FEAR WE’LL BE THERE A WHILE.”

You raised a brow, “Wait, the five hours between is actually just for the shoot? The standard for something like this is one to six hours, sure, but it’s just you, and just wardrobe changes. You don’t have hair for style changes and it doesn’t list anything for makeup… so..?”

You blanched. Your job was to listen and help, not question, “Uh. Sorry.”

Papyrus shook his head, smiling, “NO, YOU’RE RIGHT, DEAR HUMAN! BEING A MONSTER MEANS IT TAKES A LITTLE LONGER.” Despite desperately wanting to ask why, you let it go.”YOU’LL UNDERSTAND WHEN WE GET THERE!”

You nodded and grabbed your small spiral notebook and jotted down the needed details in quick script. You had to learn cursive when you were young, but it worked out well for you with Adaline and Claude. Not to mention it made taking notes quicker. 

You took another sip of your drink, before realizing Papyrus was staring. You sat up straighter, unsure what to say, when he seemed to notice. “OH, APOLOGIES HUMAN! I WAS READING THE CAN.”

Oh!

You hand it to him, “It’s the only thing that actually gives me energy. It also tastes really good.”

He nodded and handed it back to you, “I’LL HAVE TO TRY IT SOME TIME!”

You smile and nod, and Papyrus leaves the room.

——-

Hell.

She was continuously making his soul flutter.

This photoshoot needed to go as fast as possible so he could ask Sans what the fuck was wrong with him. Well. Not wrong, exactly. Sans had long drilled it into his head that his feelings could never be considered wrong.  

Stars, his brother was the best. And he needed wisdom, validation, and reassurance real bad.

It didn’t take him long to get ready for the shoot. Jeans and a simple tee-shirt. The brand running the shoot wanted use of their own photography team, and he felt it would come off as incredibly rude to refuse their request.

He took a deep breath, handing his head back for a moment and pinching his nose bridge between gloved fingers to relieve his headache. 

Papyrus really, really wanted this to go well. 

He’d responded to the original email a month prior. A big brand. Wanted about… six outfits? For a human, no makeup and no hair changes would mean a very short shoot, but Papyrus was well aware of bigger brands disdain for his species, and he was seriously dreading hearing it. Papyrus would be.. kind of embarrassed..? If they caused problems in front of his assistant?

He knew that was ridiculous and that they simply needed time to acclimate to his greatness, but.

Ah, hell. 

Papyrus really wanted her to like him.

Sixteen million followers was incredible and all, but… all he’d ever wanted was a friend.

—-----

You plop into the back of Papyrus’ black Mercedes Benz, him joining you on the other side. 

“Do you want a reminder on the expectations of the shoot?”

Papyrus leaned back as to not hit his head, lightly tapping the shoulder of the driver’s seat as a que to go once you’d both strapped in your seat belts. He smiled at you and nodded, “SURE!”

You pulled out your little notebook and cleared your throat, “Okay, so you’ll be modeling five outfits for their future fall line. All turtlenecks and high collar shirts, so no makeup required, unless you wanted it, of course.”

He nodded a little, scratching absentmindedly at the line across his throat. “SOUND ABOUT RIGHT! I’M NOT WORRIED ABOUT MAKEUP, DON’T FRET.”

You chuckled softly and moved on, “It says catering provided, and you won’t be sharing the time block with anyone else, so you should get a lot of good pictures or it should go by a lot faster than five hours.”

Adaline’s shoots took forever, but she had makeup and hair changes between each look. Papyrus definitely didn’t have that issue, so things should go by quickly!

You missed the weakness of his smile as he nodded, “HOPEFULLY!”

—-

Fuck this place.

You and your boss had stood around for two hours waiting for ‘complications’ to be fixed. It wasn’t until you’d asked a manager who hadn’t seen you walk in with Papyrus that you learned why. 

The photographer didn’t know they were taking pictures of a monster, let alone a skeleton, and was freaking out. 

You were mad as hell.  

One email to Brenda later, and you were given a screenshot of the scathing email she’d shot to the brand. Good. 

There was catering, but the small girl who was handing out cut sandwiches kept a wide berth around Papyrus and you suddenly understood. This is why Papyrus hated photoshoots. It was a god damn race issue.

You walked up to her, mostly understanding that she was probably just started by the very tall monster but was disgusted to hear that she wasn’t supposed to give him a sandwich. You’d taken one, appetite dashed, and stalked back to your boss, who was sitting quietly by the entrance. 

Quiet.

You weren’t confrontational. You’d never been confrontational.

…At least, not for yourself. Others were an entirely different story and you were mad as hell.

You sat next to him and sighed, handing him a sandwich. “I get what you meant now. I’m sorry.”

Papyrus blinked and sat up, hesitantly taking the sandwich from you, “..IT- It’s not your fault! This is.. Normal, unfortunately. I apologize for wasting your time.”

You shook your head frantically, “No! No, don’t, this is totally their issue!”

He smiled softly, tearing a piece off one triangle of sandwich and popping it into his mouth. “My point exactly.”

You blinked, silent for a moment before realizing he totally tricked you. “...I’ve been japed.”

—--

The disbelieving, almost awed delivery had Papyrus cracking up again, just like the night before. He muffled his laugh in the crook of his elbow until he calmed, sitting straighter and handing her the untouched half of the sandwich. She smiled, but shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t eat meals that I don't cook myself or watch someone else cook.”

Oh! Was that why she hadn’t eaten what catering had brought in the day prior? Huh. 

He brought his hand back out of her space, placing the half on top of the other, “..Can I ask why?”

She blinked, “...Food poisoning. It’s- excuse my language- an absolute bitch to recover from.”

He huffed a soft laugh, “Fair enough! I’ve had an assistant put rat poison in my catering once. If monsters didn’t have an incredible sense of smell, I wouldn’t have had a good time!”

She went a little pale, “Fucking what??”

Papyrus choked on another real laugh at her expression, “I WAS FINE!”

“ That’s actually deranged??”

“A BIT!”

—---

Three hours in, you’d had enough. You lightly patted Papyrus’ shoulder and told him you were handling this. 

Adaline loved bitching, but hated actually doing shit about what needed to be done, so you were often sent in her place to correct people. It had happened a couple times, a fellow assistant starting problems in the workplace, a photographer yelling at their light crew too much, a caterer that dropped every single thing they touched -

Most of them actually had good reasons to be corrected, so you’d grown pretty good at it, especially since it was one of the few times you agreed with Adaline.

Marching to the manager who was stalling so hard, you laid into her hard.

At first, you were going to assess the situation and try to compromise to get it over with, since you were a nice person, but the first thing out of her mouth was:

“I don’t understand why they want a Dustmite in pictures in the first place. Why do you even care?”

—----

A quiet, heated conversation later, and suddenly, Papyrus was all set to take the pictures. 

He’d watched his assistant grow more and more pissed off at his mistreatment (which made his soul feel funny again) before her hand reached out and patted his shoulder. 

“I’ll handle this.”

His soul did an actual flip, he swears. She looked like she could handle a lot of things when she was mad. ( Shut up you pervert-)

He watched her walk to the woman in charge, her anger masked with a polite, searching expression until it fell as Papyrus just barely heard the utterance of ‘dustmite’ from the woman’s lips.

So! Here he was, being handed an outfit and given access to a small dressing booth. As he finished slipping on his turtleneck, he got a notification for an email from Brenda. 

“Subject: Photoshoot 8/XX/2X

Papyrus, 

Your assistant is officially within my good graces.”

Papyrus pouted, replying;

“WHAT THE HELL. IT TOOK ME THREE MONTHS.”

“I like when a woman takes charge.”

“THIS IS SEXIST.”

“I regret teaching you big words sometimes.”

“WHAT THE HECK. IT’S SIX LETTERS. MY NAME IS SEVEN.”

“L.”

“WHAT????”

—----

You waited patiently as Papyrus went through each outfit until you were out of the building in an hour. 

In the backseat of his Benz he offered you a soft smile, “..THANK YOU.”

You grin, “Of course. It’s my job.”

He huffs a small laugh and pats your shoulder, “IT’S NOT. BUT THANK YOU FOR STANDING UP FOR ME.”

You can’t help but soften, “..We’re a team, remember?”

—---

His soul burns in his chest as he stares at her, “..YES.”

Fuck. 

He needs to talk to Sans.

Chapter Text

Papyrus finally got to wear his boots out, slipping them over a pair of skinny jeans and tossing a loose, red and black graphic tee over his head. It was a Gyftmas present from Undyne with a cool, edgy looking skeleton riding a motorcycle with fire around his head. He thumbed through the accessories he’d collected over the years for a frayed, pierced black hat. 

Being well over six feet and being one of the only two skeletons in known existence meant that a hat wouldn’t do much to hide his identity, but it would do fine to block first-glance recognition.

Granted, his late lunch with Sans was short-cutting to a random McDonalds and going back home to eat it, but Papyrus still liked to look nice! And he’d been stopped at McDonalds before. Reaching through a to-go window to sign something bruised his ribs. Hard pass.

He’d barely made it out of his dressing room before he bumped into someone, this time his brother instead of the very pretty human girl he just hired as his assistant that he needed to stop thinking about in any way that wasn’t professional or friendship shaped. Sans stumbled a little, laughing lightly before grabbing Papyrus’ hand and short cutting-

Home?

Papyrus looked around only to see 3 bags of Waffle House sitting on the table. He snickered and rolled his eyes, but plopped into a chair. “I’M NOT SURE IF THIS IS MORE OR LESS LAZY, BUT THANK YOU.”

Sans sat next to him, “wanted more time with you. plus, you order the same thing every time .”

Papyrus breezed right past the vulnerable admission because he didn’t want to cry, thank you, and tossed his hands up, “THEY HAVE INCREDIBLE HASH BROWNS AND WHO DOESN’T LIKE WAFFLES.”

Sans snickered and dragged the bags closer, sliding two to Papyrus and one to himself. Papyrus didn’t hesitate to pull the food out, but paused before starting any conversation. Sans noticed the nervousness pulsing within their soul-bond and raised a brow, “...you alright?”

He looked at the food for a moment before– “I FEEL ODD.”

Sans blinked, “...odd how? when did this start?”

Papyrus rested his cheek on his palm, elbow on the tabletop. He let the soft leather of his gloves against his face ground him for a moment before admitting, “SINCE WE HIRED..” He kind of loved saying your name. It rolled perfectly off his tongue and made his soul flutter happily with every utterance. Normally he just called humans… well. ‘Human,’ but. Not her. 

Which was weird.

Sans clocked it immediately. “oh, yeah?”

The younger groaned into his hand, “I FEEL LIKE A TEENAGER AGAIN. WHICH IS WEIRD BECAUSE MONSTERS DON’T TYPICALLY EXHIBIT A HORMONE OR ATTITUDE CHANGE GROWING UP. BUT. I FEEL IT, I SWEAR.”

Sans blinked before he started chuckling, “don’t tell me you have a crush on her, bro.”

He blushed heavily, sputtering, “THAT WOULD BE HIGHLY UNPROFESSIONAL! AND ALSO QUITE TOXIC AS OUR RELATIONSHIP IS WORK RELATED AND I DIRECTLY CONTROL HER INCOME AND IMMEDIATE FUTURE IN TERMS OF CAREER! ALSO I AM OLDER THAN HER! SO! THERE’S ABSOLUTELY ZERO REASON FOR ME TO BE FEELING FEELINGS!”

The older choked on a laugh, “fuck, dude, you’ve got it bad. ”

Papyrus damn near blue-screened, mouth opening and closing as he fought for a response, “I- UH- NUH UH!”

Sans snickered helplessly, “you’ve got a crush on your ass-istant! bad papyrus. your last one tried to kill you and you want her in- what- two days of knowing her? what’s going on with you?”

Papyrus didn’t even defend the rat poison guy, his soul- oddly- aching. He floundered, “I- NO, I CAN’T! AND I KNOW THAT! BUT FOR SOME REASON BUT SOUL ACHES AND FLUTTERS ALL THE TIME NOW AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON WITH ME OR WHY I’M HAVING THESE THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS AND-”

Sans sat up, humor gone. “your soul? what about your soul?”

Papyrus glared at him, but it felt more like a pout, “OH NOW YOU DON’T THINK IT’S FUNNY-”

Sans grabbed Papyrus’ free hand at the wrist, sliding down to hold his hand, “paps, i’m serious. what’s going on with your soul?”

Papyrus felt it through their bond, that Sans was concerned and relented at an anxiety-ridden pulse. “I DON’T KNOW! JUST, AFTER MEETING HER EVERYTHING SHE SAYS AND DOES IS.. ATTRACTIVE? I’VE NEVER EVEN FOUND A PERSON ATTRACTIVE BEFORE! LET ALONE A HUMAN!”

Sans stared at him for a moment before, “...summon your soul.”

Papyrus’ sockets widened, but he trusted his brother with his life, so he did. He froze when he saw a second bond, half formed, next to his bond with his brother. “...WHAT…?”

“...shit.”

Sans had meant to have this talk with Papyrus years ago, but they got to the surface, and life got busy before he’d gotten the chance.

Okay, that was an excuse. He thought he had more time to explain it, or hoped that Undyne would instead. But. Evidently not and now Papyrus was neck deep in something he didn’t understand that Sans should have told him about over a decade ago. 

Soul bonds were intimate, with monsters. Sans and Papyrus are brothers, so the moment Papyrus was born, a trust bond was snapped into place. Of course, it was different among everyone, for example, siblings who didn’t want siblings, etc., but Sans loved Papyrus on first sight so-

Brother bond.

Or, officially, Trust Bond, but monsters commonly called them Brother and Sister bonds because of how many siblings show them, and the human phrases that correlated, like ‘brothers in arms, brothers in combat, humans occasionally calling each other brothers or sisters with no blood relation…’

There were three types of bonds. Trust, Parental, and Love. 

Parental was exactly what it sounded like, though children with bad parents often broke those bonds, just like how brother bonds had exceptions. Love bonds on the other hand…

“SO… WHAT ARE YOU SAYING EXACTLY?”

Sans took a deep breath, “okay. so.. love bonds aren’t the same as the others. with.. with monsters, at least. love bonds, you’re born with. you can’t see or feel it until you meet your.. your bonded, though. you have to touch hands.”

Papyrus gaped quietly, “...WHAT?”

Sans covered his face with his spare hand, wrapped securely in a cotton glove, “...she’s your.. once you touch your love bond appears and you can start kind of.. feeling their emotions? that’s what i heard at least.”

Papyrus balked, “WAIT IS THIS WHY HUMANS SHAKE HANDS WHEN THEY MEET?”

Sans froze, “..no, they can’t sense their souls like we can, that’s just customary- you shook her hand?”

Papyrus thought for a moment before nodding, “WELL, YES, BUT I WAS WEARING MY-” He stopped, staring at the table as he recalled the encounter. Tapping idly at Brenda’s wooden desk, feeling the texture of the roller chair, ripping his gloves off earlier that evening because the texture was bothering him, “I WASN’T WEARING MY GLOVES.”

Sans clenched his teeth and huffed, “..so..”

Papyrus fiddled nervously with his hands, “...SO?”

Sans slumped in his chair, tapping the plastic container top that kept his food warm on the table, “...she’s your soulmate. basically.”

Papyrus stared silently at him, “....WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK-”

—-----

You stretched in your office chair, overviewing some emails from brands who wanted to work with Papyrus, doing some research on them before sorting the emails to forward to Brenda for further consultation. Your adrenaline was oddly high that afternoon, so you put your energy drink away so as to not over hype yourself.

You look around the room, a little bored, before your eyes land on something black in the corner. You squint at it, unsure of what it was until it moved, skittering towards you.

That was definitely a spider, then.

—------

Papyrus and Sans talked for a solid hour about what the hell Papyrus was supposed to do about accidentally employing his fucking soulmate, when he felt what he now recognized as her side of the bond light up with fear.

He stood immediately, grabbing Sans’ arm, “SHE’S SCARED-”

Sans didn’t hesitate, shortcutting them both straight into Papyrus’ dressing room. When he saw nothing amiss there, Papyrus made his way to her office across the hall in a few quick strides. He knocked loudly on the door before opening it, and he was greeting with the unfortunately hilarious sight of his assistant- soulmate?- perched on her desk chair.

Gracie, who was standing on the other side of the room, had flattened herself against the farthest wall, looking equally terrified, “Just kill it!!”

His assistant shook her head, before frantically shoving her roll-y chair away from her desk in order to get away from-

Oh.

Her voice went high in the back of her throat, hands covering her face as she half-laughed half-squealed at the spider getting closer, “No it-they’re a monster! I’ve been to Muffet’s it’s just-”

Papyrus laughed, walking over and scooping up the large, black and purple spider, “WORRY NOT! YOU’RE CORRECT! THIS IS ONE OF MUFFET’S!”

She still scurried away, “I’m aware-!”

Sans chuckled softly from behind Papyrus, leaning on the door, “so.. why are you scared?”

—---

You whined in your hands, “I think spiders are cool and all but like- far away from me-”

Gracie laughed breathlessly, “I’s called arachnophobia.”

You nodded a little, still looking away from the fucking huge spider in Papyrus’ hand, “A phobia is a severe, irrational fear to something in this case spiders which are classified as arachnids so it’s called arachnophobia which we both happen to have-”

—--------

Papyrus couldn’t help but laugh. One of his genuine ones that she kept dragging out of him. Even in genuine panic, she took the time to explain something to him. Maybe this whole soulmate thing wasn’t exactly as ridiculous as he originally thought it to be. 

He handed the spider to Sans who nodded and teleported out, presumably to return them to Muffet, before walking to his assistant, hand closed. He wanted to offer her a fist bump for being mostly brave about the spider (mainly for not killing them, despite her obvious fear- was she a justice soul, maybe? she had defended him rather soundly at the photoshoot and gala!) but she stared warily at his hand.

“...W-What?”

He raised a brow, “IS THIS NOT A HUMAN TRADITION? FIST BUMP?”

She stared skeptically at him, “....Yeah.. but what’s in  your hand?”

Papyrus tilted his head, “WHAT? NOTHING?” He opened his hand to show her its empty-ness, confused as to why she was concerned.

A quiet, nervous part of him wondered if she’d been hurt by a fist before, but it was washed away when she relaxed and smiled, “ Sorry! I just- As someone with brothers? A closed hand offered, no matter what’s inside, is suchhhh a red flag,” She laughed and it made Papyrus’ soul race . He didn’t even notice how Gracie quietly slipped out, giggling behind her hand. 

“HOW SO?”

She chuckled, looking as if to be reminiscing, “My brother would offer me his hand and there would be a dead cicada inside. Or a roach. Or a june bug. Literally anything that I didn’t want to touch? He was trying to make me.”

Papyrus thought fondly on his childhood with Sans, “I SEE. DON’T WORRY! I WILL NOT BE ENGAGING IN ANY BUG RELATED TRICKERY! I ONCE GOT A FLY IN MY SKULL WHILE DRIVING AND WHOO, THAT WAS AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE-”

Papyrus changed the subject subtly, noticing how soft, bittersweet grief bled through the bond. He softened. He didn’t know she had any siblings, or a brother.

From the way she spoke, and felt, he had a feeling she didn’t anymore.

—-------

With the spider debacle out of the way, Papyrus waved goodbye as he left for his meeting with Brenda after the two of you talked for- shit , two hours??

You wasted his time, for sure.

With a sigh, you turn back to your computer, the screen of which long gone back due to inactivity. You saw your reflection in it and slumped in your chair for a moment, before sitting straight and wigging your mouse to turn your computer back on. You quickly typed in your password, your nails still done in bright blues, pinks, and yellows for summer, before you navigated to Google.

You where always a fast type-r, and it didn’t take long to insert the name into the search bar. Of course it was easy. It was yours .

Pressing enter gave you immediate results, the lightning internet speed the Core offered when monsters surfaced gave you no time to back or and close the tab, or to sit anxiously in wait. 

And there you were.

The old you at least, pronounced dead at eighteen. 

A shame really. 

Your mother surely could’ve come up with something more creative than a car crash.

Chapter Text

You blinked at the email as you popped open our car door. 

“Subject: Fair 08/XX/2X

Good afternoon, dear,

Sorry to notify you of this after your shift, but there’s been a change of plans to tomorrow’s schedule, and I wanted to let you know early so you would have the opportunity to dress appropriately.

There’s a small charity fair that Papyrus is to attend tomorrow, and we’d like you to accompany him.

Wear something comfortable and I do hope you like rides, because Papyrus does! I’m far from old, but I’m not young enough to enjoy forced whiplash anymore.”

You giggle to yourself, stepping out of your car and bumping the door closed with your hip before locking it. You shoot back a quick reply as you close your garage door and make your way upstairs into your apartment. 

“Thank you for letting me know! Also I love rides, call me young, spritely and a smidge suicidal.”

“Glad to hear it, I knew I liked you. This is the first monster friendly fair being held. The last fair he went to didn’t allow him on any rides that lift you off the ground in case he slipped through the rails, but took advantage of that and barely let him on anything.

He wasn’t even allowed to take the Ferris Wheel, which is ridiculous. 

I hope you can give him the optimal fair experience! Also, it’s hot, and I’m doubtful his shirt will cover his scar, so please bring that white foundation of yours. (Genius idea by the way! Having an actual artist in this position is proving to be incredibly helpful!)”

You smile to yourself, hanging your keys on the wall and toeing your shoes off the second you walk through the door before picking them up to place them into your closet. 

You beelined to your bedroom, typing your response with one hand. 

“Thank you so much! You’re so kind, Ms. Brenda. I like you too!

That absolutely is ridiculous. I promise you, I will engage in verbal warfare if anyone disrespects him. Papyrus is the sweetest, and he will ride anything he wants. (As long as it’s safe of  course! And doesn’t make me go upside down, I will throw up and cry.)”

You love your job.

You drop your phone on your bed, and put your shoes back on the rack with the rest of them. You pad around your room, immediately changing from your business casual outfit to a thin hoodie and shorts before moving to the bathroom to quickly remove your makeup with a wipe.

You collapse on your bed and sigh nabbing your phone and putting your favorite YouTuber on. You groan and get up as you realize you haven’t eaten and drag yourself into the kitchen to microwave your favorite ramen.

You eat it within five minutes.

You fall asleep in thirty minutes and only suffer from sleep paralysis once!

How pleasant.

You wake up early, kind of elated to be going to the fair again. You hadn’t gone since you were a teenager! You were pretty sure a fair in California would be far different than any you’d been to in Louisiana, but you couldn’t imagine you wouldn’t figure it out.

You raid your closet and decide to wear all one color so you’d be less likely to be noticed… plus red. You love wearing red.

You just like the color. A lot.

(You loved red because it was the color of life to you. Fuck the green of plants or the blue of the sea, red was your life color. No matter who you were, no matter who hurt you or who you hurt, no matter what you valued in life, good person or bad, all humans bleed red. You were never one to be squeamish around blood.)

You slipped on black, flared pants and your solid black doc martens, figuring the platform would be appreciated by Papyrus. He had to have neck pain with how much he had to look down to look at people. Tall bastard (Affectionate).

Stop being affectionate. You weirdo.

You find an old Hot-Topic tank top and pull it over your head, searching your closet for a thin jacket and grinning when you find your mom’s old Coco Chanel jacket from the early 2000’s and pulling it on. You grab a black and silver bow to watch the jacket and put your hair up into a ponytail, pulling some face-framing pieces of hair down from it and smiling in the mirror. You kind of looked like a spy or something.

You hummed the theme song of KC Undercover while you did your makeup, clipping on silver and red earrings and applying red eyeshadow on your lower lid for a pop that would match your red lipstick. 

You forgo rings out of fear of losing them, but slip your lucky bracelet onto your wrist. 

You grab the brush, setting powder, setting spray, and the white foundation and slip it into your purse, before leaving your house, clipping your keys to your belt loop.

You sigh happily at the sight of your car in the garage. A red Kia K5, GT-Line. Of course, part of you dearly missed your old car but considering you were still hiding your identity and a Corvette was quite noticeable, your Kia would do.

You’re kidding, you still fucking love your new car. It was the reason your apartment wasn’t the best. You paid a lot for your it.

(You needed to be able to feel free. A sports car was the next best bet, save faking your death.)

(…again.)

You blast Sheryl Crow and Rascal Flatts on your way to work, unable to tamp down on your grin. 

Maybe you were an adrenaline junkie or something. But who didn’t love a drive?

You park in your spot and walk to Papyrus’ building. You wave to Gracie on your way up, tossing her a candy before stepping into the elevator. You sing quietly, attempting to rid yourself or the song stuck in your head, “Living my life of red alert-“

You realize you’ve forgotten the lyrics and simply hum the melody as you walk to your office, dropping your purse on your desk and grabbing a sticky note to scribble down Papyrus’ history with fairs before checking the schedule.

…The fair was literally the only thing there. Oh, and Sans was going with you.

Cool.

You love your job, actually.

You rise from your desk and grab the foundation, brush, and setting powder. It’s a short walk to Papyrus’ room, but the two of you are apparently allergic to sight and personal space and you find yourself running into a ‘wall’ again.

You laugh, stumbling into the wall to support yourself. Looking up at him, you grin, “We need to get you a bell or something.”

——-

Oh, he’d do a lot of things to get her to look at him like that again. 

He smiles and leans down to pat her shoulder, “APOLOGIES!” 

She laughed, waving him off, “Don’t worry about it, chick magnet. Are you excited for the fair? I’ve got the foundation for you if your shirt doesn’t cover your scar.”

Papyrus tries his hardest not to find her words endearing. He knows she’s just doing her job. But.

It’s…

It’s different now, even if she doesn’t know it. She’s… destined for him. 

(Not exactly.)

(….well… kind of exactly. He doesn’t care. He kind of just wants her.)

“I’M VERY EXCITED! ALSO, THANK YOU, MY SHIRT DOES NOT COVER IT! AND I AM NOT A CHICK MAGNET.”

She snickered, patting his arm, “You keep telling yourself that.”

Papyrus does not tingle when she touches him, and does not blush or feel feelings at all as he leads her back to his room.

He was already wearing his red gloves, but was debating whether or not he should wear his boots. 

It was almost as if she’d read his mind with how fast she clocked Papyrus’ longing stare at the boots in the corner. “Wear the boots! It’s a fair, wear what you’re comfortable in!”

He did not melt at her remembering that he missed wearing them. Nuh uh. (She probably could feel it through the soul bond, which is odd but so satisfying to him.)

Papyrus raises a playful brow, “YOU’RE WEARING ALL BLACK. IN AUGUST.”

She pouted, her lower lip- painted in his favorite shade of red- jutting out, “I’m your agent-assistant-whatever. I’ve gotta look professional.” She smiled, “Plus, I feel like a spy, and these are my favorite shoes, so you’ve gotta wear yours.”

She playfully clicked her heels together, bringing his attention to her black platform… shoes? “MY BODYGUARD, ARE WE?” He teased, then let his curiosity win, “WHAT SHOES ARE THOSE?”

She lit up, “Oh! These are Doc Martens. It’s a brand that was originally made for the average worker- you know, post men, police, factory, etcetera- but they’re pretty fashionable now and pretty comfortable once you break them in. Which takes forever by the way.” She bounced on her toes and Papyrus made sure to keep his eyes on her shoes and not her chest because he’s a gentleman. “But I really love the height it gives, to be honest! And they’re weighted so I feel fancy.”

Papyrus snorted, “VALID REASONS! I’LL HAVE TO SEE ABOUT GETTING A PAIR!” He tries to ignore the fact that she’s fucking gorgeous and her outfit brings attention to every curve and it doesn’t help him in the slightest that she’s exactly his type. In looks alone it makes sense that he’d want her. A shame she wouldn’t feel the same about him.

She poked him, smiling, “Oh, like you need to be taller.” She looked at his boots and tilted her head, “Though you would rock heeled boots.”

Don’t blush. She’s doing her job.

Bad Papyrus.

He chuckled and waved her off, plopping into the vanity chair, “YOU WIN, I’LL WEAR THE BOOTS.”

She gave him a big thumbs up and set the white bottle of foundation, brush, and a little white circle-thing on the vanity next to him. “This is setting powder. I am unaware if skeletons, or monsters in general, sweat, but either way we’ll be outside for a long time. If you don’t want it it’s totally fine, the foundation will still hold either way!”

Awe, he loved that she always gave him options. “I’LL TRY IT!”

She nodded and smiled, “You got it, boss,” pumping foundation onto the brush and getting closer. 

He tilts his head back for easy access and wills himself not to shiver again when she touches him. 

This soulmate shit was going to be a problem.

——

By the time you and Papyrus are ready, it’s nearly time to leave. He hesitates hard, eyes flicking between the shoes he’s wearing and his boots. You tilt your head and he blushes, looking away, “SORRY! I JUST- MY- ER. I’VE BEEN MADE AWARE THAT MY FEET LOOK WEIRD TO HUMANS.”

You pause, “Oh, I’ll step out.” You move to do exactly that, but can’t help stopping at the door to say, “…And whoever told you that doesn’t sound like a nice person. If you have a boundary, that’s perfectly understandable, but if you’re worried I’m going to find you weird or something, you don’t have to worry about that.”

You walk about without looking at him, not wanting to know his reaction and praying you didn’t go too far.

——-

Papyrus has always wanted friends. 

Soulmates can be platonic, right?

He decides that even if she never sees him in a romantic light, he’s never letting her go. 

——-

Brenda is frazzled when you find her in the hall, frantically typing and scrolling on her phone. You rest a hesitant hand on her shoulder, “Is everything okay?”

Brenda groans, “Everything’s fine, Papyrus’ Chauffeur just can’t come get him.”

You blink, “I can drive?”

She paused, “Well.. I mean, I guess Papyrus can too… I... Yeah. One of you can drive there and back.”

You offer her a thumbs up as you feel Papyrus walk up behind you. “WHAT’S GOING ON?”

Brenda shrugged, “Your driver’s not here… so one of you can drive if that’s okay?”

Papyrus blinked, then grinned, “I DON’T CARE WHO DRIVES, BUT CAN WE TAKE MY CAR?”

Brenda sighed heavily but smiled, waving him off, “Fine. But no speeding.”

He salutes her playfully, and you laugh softly. “What kind of car?”

Papyrus smiles in a way you find incredibly familiar. Oh. This is a man who loves his car. Twin. “I’LL SHOW YOU.”

———

It was around when he was first made mascot. 

Monsters were finally allowed to get a drivers license! He was one of the first monsters to get one, taking the class and driving non-stop for a week straight to get his credit hours before going to the nearest car dealership.

Every car was nice, sure, but he found himself unsatisfied.

He looked online for a while, wanting a red convertible for sure. He needed to be able to sit straight up, and he just wanted a red car. His favorite color was blue, but red was a very close second. 

Papyrus went all the way down to New Orleans with Sans and Undyne to check out a nice, brand new Mustang, when he saw it.

A used, but extremely well kept and cared for, bright red corvette.

Papyrus didn’t really care about name brands. He didn’t. It was a red convertible, but it wasn’t what he went there for.

It was like the car was calling to him, and he asked the dealer to take it for a spin. 

The man laughed and nodded, saying the car was half price because someone died in it, and Papyrus, as a skeleton, would fit right in.

He saw Sans and Undyne bristle but dragged them away. Papyrus was used to it.

Slipping into the driver's seat, he felt it. It was a 2016 Chevrolet Corvette Z06, and it wasn’t new, but damn did the last owner love this car. 

He could see it in the small indents in the steering wheel, the same ones that perfectly fit his hands. Popping open the glove box, he found a red bow with an embroidered white letter on it. 

Ah, this was a human woman’s car. He wonder’s quietly if she’s the one who passed in the car, and how. 

It’s not until the man walks away that Sans hood in the passenger seat, murmuring, “the guy wasn’t trying to lie, he really thinks someone died in here, but i can feel it. no one died in this car.”

Papyrus raised a brow, looking around at the seats and airbags, “…I’d have to agree! This car is far too put together to have been in an accident, and I’ve heard human blood stains horribly!”

Sans shrugged. “do you like it?”

Papyrus sat in the car, gripping the wheel and feeling the soft leather seat on his back, “I DO.”

Sans grinned, “well… it is half off.”

Undyne, who he hadn’t even noticed got into the car, piped up from the back seat, leaning over the center console, “And it’s a fucking CORVETTE dude!”

He felt something telling him to say yes, and he listened, “I’LL TAKE IT!”

——

You feel your heart drop to your stomach as you see Papyrus’ car. 

Suddenly, you get flashbacks to your teenage years. Whipping your brand new car around New Orleans, street racing for extra cash, getting the high score in every racing game at every arcade.

It was all practice for work, but fuck you loved driving, and you loved your old car.

Papyrus hopped into the driver seat like it was made for him, and you hated that you couldn’t even say anything without potentially blowing your cover.

That was your car.

But hell, wasn’t this a small world. You would’ve never thought you would see your boss driving it. You could not fucking wait to ride in your Corvette again.

Chapter Text

Good thing you were an incredible actor.

Actress.

Whatever.

Your high school theatre days were good for something after all! The trick is using the truth, even if it was only partial. “I love your car.”

Of course you did. It used to be yours. 

Papyrus beams at you, and Sans appears in the backseat out of thin air. Your brow furrows and your jaw drops a little but you don’t ask because you have a sneaking suspicion that Sans would not tell. Papyrus rolls his eyes at Sans and pats your shoulder, “THANK YOU! WOULD YOU MIND IF I DRIVED?”

You smiled and nudged him, “Papyrus, this is a Corvette. No one’s going to be mad at you for wanting to drive your own car.”

Papyrus’ cheeks lit orange and he cleared his non-existent throat- something that would confuse you for an unfortunately long time- and nodded, “Y-YES, WELL-” He laughed softly, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat, “SOME PEOPLE ARE.. UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MONSTER DRIVERS.”

You frown, “They’re dicks. I promise you that I was a monster driver when I was a teenager. You ever heard of street racing?”

Papyrus slipped into the front seat and looked at you as if you’d said Christmas came four months early, “NO! PLEASE ENLIGHTEN ME!”

Sans raised a brow in the backseat, “are you gonna be a bad influence, kid?”

You snicker, “Nuh uh, I’m an angel. A saint even.”

Sans snorted, “ya’know, for some reason, i doubt that.”

You pout but launch into an explanation on street racing as Papyrus starts the car. You enjoy the familiar rumble of her engine before you click your seatbelt into place. Papyrus grins at you before revving it. “NICE, RIGHT?”

You grin back, “Great.”

You’re over halfway to the fair when you notice it. You’d been quietly listening to Sans and Papyrus’ banter for the past twenty minutes when you saw a red bow hanging from the bottom of the rearview mirror. 

Well, you’d noticed the bow, but didn’t say anything. If Papyrus had a girlfriend or something, it wasn’t your business. 

(..even if you oddly hated the idea of him having a girlfriend. weird.)

It wasn’t until Papyrus had made a particularly sharp turn, which he immediately apologized for, that you saw the embroidered letter on the bow. 

“SORRY!”

You wave him off immediately, staring at the bow, “No, no, that wasn’t your fault, they weren’t supposed to go.”

He gets onto the freeway and cruises along, glancing at you in the corner of his eye. He must notice your focus on the bow, because he reaches up to tap it. “IT WAS IN THE CAR WHEN I GOT IT. I ASSUME IT BELONGED TO THE PREVIOUS OWNER. IT WAS VERY CLEAR THAT THEY LOVED THIS CAR, AND THE BOW MATCHED THE COLORS IN HERE, SO I KEPT IT! I THINK SHE WOULD’VE APPRECIATED IT, WHEREVER SHE IS.”

You huff a small laugh and delicately thumb the white thread. “Yeah, I bet she would’ve.”

Actually, you know she would’ve. It was your fucking bow. That was your initial.

And you’re god-damned flattered.  

—---

Brenda was kind of known for being a strict hard-ass with.. everything. But! She was still a person! 

And who didn’t love a little matchmaking?

She really and truly cared for Papyrus, and she knew he really liked this new girl. And so did she! Brenda really did like the new assistant. 

But she was also heavily invested with her job, and her job was to keep Papyrus popular, among other things.

And what was more delicious than a little.. Love? Papyrus falling for his assistant would paint him in a bad light, and that was already happening. But if she fell first..

Well, either they could be a power couple, because the new girl was gorgeous and already popular from a single outing… or Brenda could save Papyrus’ ass by promoting the narrative that he was tempted and seduced by her. He was viewed as quite innocent.

It always works with human men. She couldn’t imagine monsters being all that different.

So.. the fair. Less of a ‘Papyrus outing’ for paparazzi, and more of a date. Hopefully they would.. Bond.. or something? Brenda doesn’t know much about love. Her ex husband shattered whatever belief she’d had a long time ago. 

—---

The fair’s parking was completely packed, even for it being a relatively small fair.

Papyrus has to park two full blocks away, but Sans is the only one who complains. You struggle a little bit to keep up with Papyrus’ long legs, but you were raised to be a fast walker, so it didn’t take too much energy. You could see a Ferris Wheel in the distance, hear thrilled screams, and smell the funnel cakes. You wonder if the lemonade here is good.

Papyrus is damn near vibrating with excitement and you laugh softly, padding closer to ask him, “What ride are you the most excited for?”

Papyrus grins brightly as the three of you turn the corner, finally able to see the small plethora of rides. That being a whole seven. Brenda wasn’t kidding when she said small fair. Two of the rides were clearly for small children and as much as you would love to see if you would fit your ass in the tiny car-carnival or the “dragon” “roller coaster” that just went around in circles, you figured Papyrus had more exciting tastes. You were proven correct when Papyrus pointed excitedly to the X-Men ride. Wolverine stared menacingly at you from the spray painted board, periodically blocked by the row of screaming children as the machine swung them in a circle.

Oh. 

Lovely. 

You fucking hate that ride. 

You grin brightly, “Cool! Let's go, then!” 

—--

There was no way she would have noticed, far too focused on his brother to see Sans’ expression shift before resting back into his neutral smile. 

Huh. 

Sans had seen it, the little flash of fear in her eyes. She didn’t want to go on it, but she would. For Papyrus. 

Ah, maybe she wasn’t all bad after all.

—-

After purchasing all-day-ride wristbands for you and Papyrus, Sans opting to buy a couple tickets instead since he didn’t see himself going on many, Papyrus beelined to the X-Men ride. You followed close behind, taking a deep breath. 

It wasn’t so much the height itself, it was the movement of the ride that freaked you out. Your stomach dropped to your ass every time it swung you down as a teen, and now as a woman in your twenties, you weren’t sure how well you would be able to take it. 

Papyrus was near-bouncing on his feet as the two of you waited in line, Sans dodging the bullet by claiming he was hungry. Lucky bastard. Papyrus was too nice to call him on bullshit and too kind to stop his brother from potentially eating. 

You were only in line for about five minutes before you were being told to strap into your seats. You grab your lucky-number fourteen out of the twenty seats available, Papyrus taking the seat to your right. 

You take a deep breath and stare at your feet as you wait for the ride to start.

—--

It’s until he looks at her sitting next to him that he sees it.

Oh.

She doesn’t like this ride.

Papyrus is hesitant, not wanting to push a boundary any further than he already has by putting her on a machine that was clearly freaking her out, but took her hand. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

She smiles nervously at him, kicking her feet back and forth, “I’m fine, this one just always makes my stomach drop because it feels like falling.”

He blinked, “YOU HAVE A FEAR OF HEIGHTS?”

She giggled, “More of falling from them.”

Papyrus laughed softly, squeezing her hand, “I’M SORRY! YOU CAN HOLD MY HAND UNTIL IT ENDS!”

She tensed as it started, shutting her eyes tight and bowing her head, gipping his hand tight, “Don’t be sorry I didn’t say anything-”

Papyrus could feel her fear through the bond, but he could also see her smile every time they didn’t die on the downswing. She didn’t scream, didn’t make a single noise, until about three-fourths into the ride when she finally opened her eyes, kicking her feet in the air and smiling. “Okay, now it’s not so bad.”

Papyrus, who’d been far more focused on her than the ride, snapped back to attention, letting out a startled shout on the downswing. She laughed, squeezing his hand again as he caught his own dose of fear until the ride slowed to a stop. 

As much as she relaxed at the end, she was quick to get off.

Papyrus snickered and followed after her, “SEE! THAT WASN’T SO BAD!”

She laughed and nudged him, “Yeah, after my body stopped telling me I was dying.”

He giggled and nudged her back, letting her lead him to a… boat? “WHAT’S THIS ONE?”

She grinned, “Advanced swinging.”

Papyrus only had a chance to raise a brow before the ride started, the two of them slotting into line. 

Oh. That looked kind of terrifying. “YOU GO BACKWARDS??”

She laughed, “Only a little! It’s just like swinging!”

Papyrus floundered, but it was mostly playful. “WE DON’T HAVE ‘SWINGING’ UNDERGROUND!”

She blinked then grinned, “Then you’ll get the full experience here!”

Papyrus shook his head in mock defeat, but happily boarded after her. She took the red row in the middle, probably to make it easier on him, and he sat right next to her, clicking the bar down once they were settled. He smiled softly at the protective gravity magic holding him down. Alphys and Sans had experimented on blue magic in efforts to use it for safety measures like this one, and it was so incredible to see his brother’s hard work being put to use.

Sans liked to pretend he was lazy, but he was by far the smartest monster Papyrus had ever met. He hoped Sans would ride at least one of the rides with them! Papyrus wants Sans to be proud of himself. He deserves it!

He was so lost in thought that he hadn’t realized the ride started. It went forward, then back, pretty gently. Which. Okay this was pleasant.

He smiled at her and nudged her arm, “THIS ISN’T BAD AT ALL! SWINGING YOU SAID?”

She nodded happily, “The breeze is so nice, and it feels very secure.”

Papyrus nodded, but quickly felt his soul squeeze a little when it swung back a little higher than before, the forward swing give him butterflies and-

Oh, it really felt like he was going to flip upside down or something when he went backwards. He hoped she didn’t mind hand-holding when he was the one kind of freaking out because he latched on and held tight, but kept his eyes open, watching the world blur back and forth.

It was kind of scary, but she was laughing and going “wee” next to him, and it ripped Papyrus right out of his fear. Fuck, she was adorable.

She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him, “Advanced swinging!!”

He laughed and nodded, squeezing back. 

She lifted her feet and whooped on the way down and he copied her, only to immediately put his feet on the ground and curl a little because- “aaAAHH-”

His assistant cackled, interlacing their fingers tight and pulling him closer, “You’re fine!!”

Papyrus nodded and grinned as the ride slowed, quick to get off pulling her along with him. 

—--

You giggle helplessly, unable to remember the last time you’d had this much fun. Hell, you were only twenty-four but you don’t think you’d felt this young in a while. You follow Papyrus who was ushering you to the ferris wheel, suddenly curious, “Hey, Papyrus, how old are you?”

He glances back and smiles, “TWENTY FIVE! I HAVE BEEN MADE AWARE THAT IT IS NOT APPROPRIATE TO ASK A HUMAN WOMAN HER AGE BUT IF YOU WERE WILLING TO HAPPEN TO TELL ME THAT WOULD BE VERY INTERESTING!”

You snort, “Wasn’t it on my resume?”

Papyrus fake gasps, holding a hand to his chest, “AS IF I WOULD SNOOP IN YOUR PERSONAL INFORMATION!”

You hold back a laugh, “I’m twenty-four. When Sans said I was younger than you, I think I figured it would be more than just a year.”

Papyrus shakes his head, “SANS IS DRAMATIC.” 

The teenager running the ride, waves the two of you forward, and gesturing towards the purple carriage emptied in front of you. You let Papyrus duck in first, and your heart squeezes when you see his expression go briefly panicked as the carriage swings with his weight. You immediately climb to the other side, balancing it out and minimizing movement. 

He sits uncharacteristically still, staring down at his red boot and holding the bar in the middle for dear life. You gently cup his hands in your own, crossing your ankles around him to lock him in place, hopefully making him feel more secure.

You hesitate before, “..I like your boots. They suit you.”

Papyrus looks up at you, gaining a shaky smile, “THANK YOU.”

The carriage stops with the two of you at the top of the wheel, letting someone else board. Papyrus tenses, gasping softly and holding your hand, “IS SOMETHING WRONG?”

You shake your head, “No, just letting them switch passengers. You’re alright, Papyrus.”

He huffs a weak laugh and nudges the back of your hand, “YOU CAN CALL ME PAPS IF YOU’D LIKE.”

You smile and squeeze his hand, “Alright, Paps.”

Papyrus blushed a little, but suddenly relaxed after glancing down. You follow his gaze and see Sans. Awe. He trusts his brother, then. “DO YOU HAVE A NICKNAME?”

You shrug a little, “Not.. a shortened version of my name, no, but I had a lot of nicknames growing up?”

Papyrus blinked and smiled and oh- those were puppy eyes. Awe, what the fuck. “Uh… Viper was one. I used to wear a lot of green. And I was very fast. Falcon, also because I was fast… Um… Oh, Firefly was kinda cute.”

You’d gotten that one from setting a bar on fire and getting out before it exploded because the dumbass had firecrackers in the back. You never got caught for that. Oops.

—--

His smile grew a little sad, but he forced it right back into happiness. Papyrus was glad she had a lot of friends. He just kind of wishes he could too.

“FIREFLY? THAT’S A BUG, NO?”

She smiled and nodded, “Fireflies- well, my family always called them lightning bugs- are little beetles that glow.”

Papyrus’ eyes widened, “WAIT, REALLY? ARE THEY RARE?”

She shakes her head, “Nope! Actually, in California, July through August is prime-time to see them. If you go maybe an hour north of here, they’re really common.”

“HUH.” He paused for a moment, “...YOU LIKE ANSWERING QUESTIONS, DON’T YOU?”

She immediately nods, “Yeah! You can ask me anything!”

Papyrus pushes the fact that her smile is soul stopping down and away. “I WAS JUST CURIOUS WHY! MY PREVIOUS ASSISTANTS WOULD GET QUIET AGGRAVATED WITH QUESTIONING!”

She frowns, but he can feel through the bond that it’s not directed at him, “Oh, I just.. I wanted to be a teacher. It’s what I went to school for, at least. I like teaching, but I don’t think it was ever in the cards for me.”

Papyrus grows… sad. It pains him a little to offer, but fuck does he want her happy. “I’M SURE I COULD CONVINCE TORIEL TO HOOK YOU A TEACHING GIG IN HER SCHOOL!”

She smiles sweetly at him, and Papyrus doesn’t need to see fireflies when she brightens him like that. 

Shit, he’s being sappy. He should get Sans to hit him over the head with a bone. Or the damn dating manual! Stupid thing never mentioned how intense soulmates would be!

“Oh, no, I love my job! Working with you is amazing!”

He silently huffs a relieved breath, “I’M GLAD! I WOULD MISS YOU IF YOU LEFT!”

He misses the way she softens at his words, but he feels a soft, sad, wave wash over the bond. He doesn’t get a chance to question her before the ride stops. She slips out the carriage and offers him a hand, which he gently takes as the carriage sways.

They walk back down to meet with Sans. 

“you kids have fun?”

—--

You raise a brow, “How old are you again?”

Sans snorted, “don'cha know it’s rude to ask a monster their age?”

“Mmmm.. Papyrus didn’t mind and I trust his judgement more than yours.”

Sans’ rib’s stutter, like he was trying to hide a laugh at an inside joke, “fair enough. ‘m thirty four.”

You pretend to gasp, raising a hand to your forehead as if feeling faint, “I’m in the presence of an old person!”

Sans deadpanned, “fuck off, i am not old.”

You offer nothing but a shit eating grin and the information that, “You’re a full decade older than me.”

Sans rolls his eye lights, “i’m not old.”

You see your opening. “Oh, so you’ll do one of the rides with us.”

Sans snickers, “dream big, kid.”

Papyrus, apparently on the same page, chimed in, “YOU REALLY SHOULD! CONSIDERING ITS A VARIATION OF YOUR MAGIC THAT’S LETTING MONSTERS RIDE!”

You gape, “Wait, the blue magic thing, that was from you?”

Sans blushes badly, “...i just wanted paps to be able to go on the damn rides.”

Suddenly you respect this man. Not enough to let him get out of this though, “Oh, well, you’ve got to test your work.”

Sans narrows his eye lights at you while you smile innocently as him, batting your eyes for effect. Papyrus steps closer and hits Sans with full force puppy eyes and Sans struggles before sighing. “fine.”

Papyrus cheers and drags Sans to the boat ride, you happily run after them. The line is non-existent and you take the same seat as before, Papyrus sitting next to you with Sans on his other side.

—--

The ride starts without much fanfare, but it quickly gets to the point where everyone around them is shouting. It’s oddly fun to Sans. He didn’t think he’d like anything like this, but he’d go on every mechanical deathtrap in the word for Papyrus. Speaking of Papyrus.

Sans looks up at his brother to make sure he was having fun, and pauses at the sight. His assistant’s thrown her hands in the air and has somehow rallied everyone on the ride to go “Weee!” on every swing.

Papyrus leans back in his seat, watching her with blown out eye lights.

In that moment, with the sounds of children and adults screaming and mechanical noises as a background, Sans watches Papyrus fall in love with her. 

Chapter Text

Sans enjoys the rest of the ride for the most part. He’s the one who designed the gravity magic bands, and he would’ve never let Papyrus near the human death trap if he wasn’t completely certain it was safe, but fuck it was weird to see his little brother all grown up. It felt like yesterday when Sans was teaching Papyrus to walk, and now he’s found his soulmate.

Weird.

Sad.

Happy, though.

He pushed the happy part through the bond. He was proud of Papyrus in everything the skeleton had ever done, and this wasn’t different, even if it was kind of hard for Sans to come to terms with it.

—————-

You allow Papyrus to help you off the ride, laughing softly and teasing him for being a gentleman. 

“A GENTLE-MONSTER!”

You snicker while you walk over the lemonade stand. Thankfully, the line has just ended, so you were able to quickly get yourself a large. Ten dollars for a lemonade is a little ridiculous but you’re at a fair so you kind of expect it. You take a sip and grin.

“IS IT GOOD? I’VE NEVER HAD LEMONADE!”

You turn to him, baffled, “Oh, it’s great, but how have you never had lemonade before??”

Papyrus shrugs a little, “THERE WEREN’T LEMONDS UNDERGROUND! I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT LEMONS, NOR LEMONADE WAS FOR A WHILE!”

You pause, “…Fair enough.”

Sans casual smile turns into a grin, “ fair?”

Papyrus smacks the back of his head and doesn’t entertain him, “SHUT UP, SANS.”

You snort and offer your drink to Papyrus, “Do you want to try it?”

He hesitates for a moment before carefully taking it from you, popping the lid off and taking a sip from the side of the cup. You almost offer the straw, when you remember again that he’s your boss, stop being weird, and skeletons probably can’t suck straws considering they don’t have lips.

Well. That made things… easy?

Papyrus brightens a little after the first sip, “THIS IS GREAT!” He hands the cup back to you and immediately buys his own as you pop the cap back on. It’s only then that you realize you’re still in line and there’s a couple people behind the three of you looking aggravated.

Oops.

Papyrus gets his drink and the three of you exit to line, Sans opting not to get one. You first figure he just didn’t think he’d like lemonade, but it’s quickly rectified when you see him sneak Papyrus’ cup everytime the taller skeleton wasn’t looking. You hold back snickers, especially when Sans winks and holds a find over his mouth as if shushing you.

You say nothing but offer Papyrus your drink when his cup goes empty mysteriously fast.

————

Papyrus’ chest feels like it’s bursting. He’d never experienced anything like it. His soul felt like it was squeezing itself with the amount of affection he harbored for the two. Sans had occasionally slipped happy feelings through the bond, something Papyrus knew he was doing on purpose since Sans had near perfect control over what he let Papyrus see from his side, and Papyrus was pretty much drowning the bond with happiness in return. It was nice to see Sans relax a little.

She isn’t making it all that easy on Papyrus either. The entire day, she’d unknowingly radiated joy, and Papyrus felt like his cheekbones were going to hurt by the time he got home with how happy he was. 

——————

The three of them shared a nacho plate with lukewarm cheese, then a funnel cake that was unfortunately messy considering neither skeleton was allowed to show ecto in public.

Of course they had their tongue’s summoned, eating would be incredibly unpleasant otherwise, but they had to be careful to hide it. Even Papyrus’ assistants weren’t allowed to know, simply to protect Papyrus. If it leaked that Papyrus could summon an ecto tongue, people would start to wonder if he could form other parts. There were already mountains of porn drawn of him, he didn’t need to confirm it. 

Even if it was Sans seen with a tongue, people could easily assume that since they were brothers and the same sub-species of monster, they worked the same.

They’d be correct, of course, but Papyrus’ fans didn’t need to know that.

They wiped their hands with cheap napkins best they could before Papyrus’ assistant pulled two alcohol wipes out of her bag and handed it to them. 

—————

Papyrus and Sans blinked, “and you just have alcohol wipes on you… why?”

You snicker, “I get nauseous sometimes, and the smell helps.”

Papyrus rips open the little paper bag and hesitantly sniffs the folded wipe, before he immediately reels back, coughing, “THAT’S VILE!”

You choke on a laugh, “Wait- Wh-What??” 

Sans hesitates before leaning a little closer to smell it as well, before he also coughs, quickly turning away, “holy shit-“

Papyrus quickly uses the wipe to clean his hands, then Sans’ hands, even as the older tried to writhe away, before tossing it into a nearby trashcan. “VILE. YOU SMELL THAT TO NOT BE SICK??”

You laugh helplessly as you take the unopened  alcohol wipe back from Sans, “Yes? It’s common among nurses and doctors as well. I didn’t think..”

You continue to giggle as Papyrus gives you a scandalized look, then softens, “IT’S NOT  THAT IT SMELLS BAD, JUST.. INCREDIBLY STRONG.”

Sans nods, hand moving to cover his nose before he realizes that said hand is covered in the smell, and he jerks his head down into his hoodie. “it burns, more like.”

You laugh and shake your head, “Sorry! I didn’t know monsters had a stronger sense of smell! Hold on-“

You pull a small tin of solid perfume and offer it to them, “It smells like peach rings.”

Sans gives you a vaguely distrusting look, but Papyrus accepts the tin and takes a small, hesitant sniff before smiling, “OH! THIS ONE IS PLEASANT.” 

Sans leaned closer, and immediately shakes his head, “…that smells like straight chemicals.”

Papyrus rolls his eyelights, “NO, THAT'S THE ALCOHOL WIPE YOU NUMBSKULL. THIS ONE SMELLS LIKE CANDY.”

Sans just shakes his head again and stuffs his hands in his pockets, “all you, bro.”

You snicker at them before Papyrus turns back to you, “HOW DOES IT WORK?” 

You smile a little, laughter finally fading and leaving you with a small ache in your core and cheeks, before taking the tin and scraping off a bit of the white-ish, wax-like substance, before rubbing it into your pulse points.

—————

Papyrus blinks. Oh. It smells like you. Or, a part of you. He can tell that you use a different scent in your shampoo and body wash, and that you use a different spray perfume, but the sweet, peach scent that he occasionally picks up is from the little tin.

Maybe that’s why he really likes it, when Sans doesn’t.

He follows her direction, only just putting it on his hands to block out the smell of alcohol.  She laughs, and maybe he should pretend to be offended, but stars he loves her laugh. He’d have to thank Brenda for sending them to the fair.

Of course he knew she was attempting to set them up. He was optimistic, not naive. Papyrus would talk to her about it eventually, it was truly quite unprofessional, even if he was enjoying himself. He wouldn’t let Brenda’s small schemes manipulate you.

—---------

The sun fell slowly from the sky as they continued to check out the fair, mainly just going on the same two rides until Papyrus and his assistant were tired of it. Sans was mostly captured by the sunset. 

He never thought he’d get here. 

Sans nudges Papyrus with the time, letting him know that his assistant’s shift is almost over. He had a feeling she would be too nice to say anything. Papyrus nods thankfully and immediately blows it.

“YOUR SHIFT IS ALMOST OVER! I WOULD HATE TO KEEP YOU TOO LATE, ARE YOU READY TO LEAVE?”

Sans can’t help but snort. He would’ve been a little more subtle about it, but she seems to appreciate the honesty and gives Papyrus a smile sweet enough for Sans to understand the attraction at least a little. She’s not his type though, considering his type is men. 

(Even if he was not-so-touch -and-go with Grillby and keeps his gloves on at all times. He didn’t want to know.)

Papyrus leads them through the surprisingly dense crowd and back into the thankfully-non busy street. The sun had almost entirely dipped behind the horizon, streaking the sky with orange and purple as they walked down the block in search of Papyrus’ car. The pass near a run-down looking area, tents lining the street, but they don’t need to cross the street, so Sans isn’t too worried. The car’s in sight when a young man yells out behind them.

“Hey!”

Papyrus moves to turn, but his assistant immediately grabs him, tugging him faster towards the car. “Sorry.” Her expression is pinched and Sans checks her. She means it. “Just- Listen, if they don’t say your name, they aren’t talking to you. He’s trying to rob us.”

Sans gives Papyrus a little nod and they walk faster to the car, quickly hopping inside. 

Sans doesn’t mention the small spark of recognition in her eyes at the voice fading behind them. 

—————-

Papyrus offers her a smile, unoffended. He could feel the small spark of fear through the bond, so he wasn’t going to feel upset about her quick reaction. Not to mention she was.. probably right. The guy was wearing a ski mask.

Oops.

He snickers quietly to himself as he locks the doors and pulls out of the space and into the street, careful not to hit another car. For one, he doesn’t want to deal with the legal hurdles monsters go through when even accused of a crime, and two…

Well, obviously he doesn’t want to mess up the paint job. He really likes his car.

He taps lightly at the radio system, handing his assistant his phone, “WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY MUSIC?”

She blanches, “Uhhhh, sure! What did.. What did you want me to play?” She gingerly takes the phone out of his hand, not touching anything. 

Papyrus smiles, “ANYTHING IS FINE! THE PASSWORD IS ONE, NINE, ONE, ONE, FOUR, ONE, NINE!”

She offers a nervous smile back, tapping it in as he listed the numbers.

—————-

You privately commit the password to memory, just in case. Nineteen, eleven, four, nineteen. You immediately navigate to his music app, and struggle to work Spotify until you can pull up Glass Animals. It starts playing Gooey, which isn’t your favorite song by them but it’s pretty damn good and a fine first impression of the band.

You set his phone carefully in the cup holder between you and he smiles at the first soft, warbled chimes flowing from the speaker system you happen to know to have been upwards of ten thousand. You like music. 

Papyrus taps along, “YOU LIKE GLASS ANIMALS?”

You light up, “Oh, I love Glass Animals. They’re my favorite band.”

Papyrus beams, “IT’S MY FAVORITE BAND, TOO! I FOUND THEM THROUGH HEAT WAVES WHEN THAT SONG GOT SUPER POPULAR!”

You smile knowingly, glancing down at your class ring. It was shaped like a crown in your own memorial for Technoblade. You still wore his Merch around your house. “Yeah, I feel you! That’s a good one. I really like How To Be A Human Being, but Your Love and Tangerine on the Dreamland album are really good, too.”

——————

Papyrus grips the steering wheel excitedly, a bright grin making his cheeks ache a little. Glass Animals really was his favorite band, but most humans assumed monsters would only like monster music. Which! He does like monster music! But! He likes other stuff too! It especially cool to him, because his love for the band isn’t public, so he knows she’s not faking it for brownie points!

Yay! Honesty!

He laughs sheepishly, “I ACTUALLY NEVER LISTENED TO THEIR OTHER ALBUMS! I FOUND DREAMLAND AND PRETTY MUCH LISTENED TO THAT ON REPEAT!”

She snickers, “That’s totally fair. I think you should check it out, but the vibes are very different in the other albums.”

Papyrus taps the steering wheel, thinking, “I THINK I’VE HEARD THE FIRST HALF OF THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE IN PASSING, BUT I THINK I WILL LISTEN! IF THE QUALITY IS ANYTHING LIKE DREAMLAND I’LL ENJOY IT!”

He cherishes her grin as he pulls into the office parking lot. He silently, then not so silently admires her car, a Kia K5, cherry red. “YOUR CAR’S REALLY NICE!”

She smiles brightly at him as she hops out the front seat, “Thank you!! I’ll see you at work tomorrow!”

Papyrus waves happily at her, making sure she gets into her car safely and pulls away before he drives off towards home. There’s partial silence, the stripped back version of Heat Waves filling the car. Papyrus glances into the rear view mirror and makes eye contact with Sans. “ARE YOU OKAY, BROTHER?”

Sans leans into the center console, patting Papyrus’ shoulder. “a-okay, bud. ‘m happy for you.”

Papyrus grips the steering wheel and can’t help a bittersweet smile, “THANK YOU, BROTHER.”

—————-

Sans notices the shift, of course he does, and bumps his skull into Papyrus’ free arm, “it’ll work out. ’ can already tell she’s sweet on you.”

Papyrus pulls into their driveway and slumps in his seat, “SHE’S DOING HER JOB, SANS.”

Sans pats Papyrus’ back again, “…yeah but she’s your soulmate. it’ll work out, paps. you’re too cool for it not to.” He offers Papyrus a weak smiling, already knowing Papyrus was going to call him out.

“AND YOU KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT SOULMATES? IS THAT WHY YOUR KEEP YOUR GLOVES ON WHEN CANOODLING WITH YOUR FLAME-FRIEND?”

Sans winces. “…yeah, i deserve that. but.. you.. you don’t have to be like me, paps. you’re.. good.”

Papyrus turns to Sans and drags him into a firm hug. Sans doesn’t fight it. “YOU ARE NOT BROKEN, BROTHER.”

Chapter Text

Sans slumped into his usual barstool, tracing the polished woodgrain of the bartop with his gloved pointer finger. It’s not another thirty seconds before Grillby is silently sliding a glass of red.. Something. Bloody Mary? Something about him serving straight ketchup making humans uncomfortable?

(Well, Grillby had mentioned it off handedly once, and Sans started ordering whatever else had tomato on the menu. Apparently Bloody Mary’s were pretty common. The last thing he wanted was for Grillby to catch any- heheh- heat for his drink of choice.)

Bloody Marys didn’t get him drunk, and they weren’t really his thing, but. Eh.

He really only went to Grillby’s to see Grillby. So.

Grillby had his fancy waterproof gloves on, and tapped Sans between his eyes, voice incredibly soft as he murmured, “...Okay?”

Sans forces a smile and takes a sip of his drink, made perfectly but not at all to his tastes (who likes horseradish in their drink??), before tapping his fist against Grillby’s. It almost mocks their current situation, and Sans almost winces at the thought. 

Grillby has always been lenient with Sans’ bullshit, and doesn’t comment, but holds Sans’ hand tenderly as Sans nods, “all good, hot stuff.”

—--------------------------

Papyrus stretches, letting his spine pop and relieving about six clicks of tension. He cracks his fingers, wrist, and neck before getting up from the couch and clicking the Tv off. He loved Mettaton, but he had things to do!

Not really! But the thought of doing nothing allll day just because of legally mandated breaks! He didn’t even sleep, there was no reason to be forced to miss two days of work every week! Not to mention his hour break once a day!

He sighs loudly, and moves to make himself lunch before deciding to go into town instead. He was fucking exhausted with the smell of spaghetti and that was literally the only thing he knew how to make. He was finally pretty good at it, but he was more than aware that cooking was not his calling. He found the motions fun, especially with Undyne, but. Being exceptionally poor Underground and only being able to afford tomato and noodles for most meals was more than enough to take the joy out of that particular dish. One could only be so creative with two (or occasionally three or four if he was with Undyne) ingredients.

Not to mention, Sans wasn’t home, and he didn’t want to cook alone. 

Papyrus grabs his keys and hops into his corvette, clicking his seatbelt and adjusting his mirrors before taking off. He passes by Grillby’s to make sure Sans’ little moped was in the parking lot before actually  looking for a lunch place, not noticing the cherry red Kia pulled into the grass of what looked like a hunting range.

—-------------

You fix the sound proof headphones and protective glasses on your head before squaring your shoulders again and firing at your target. 

You hit bullseye, once, twice, three times before putting the safety back on and putting the gun down. It wasn’t exactly what you were used to firing, but a G19 wasn’t exactly hard to handle. It was surprisingly easy, but maybe that was just because you’d learned to shoot when you were a preteen. 

You take the gear off and stretch, squinting at the sweet burn in the small of your back before a small pop relieves the tension.

Your ‘instructor’ stares unabashedly at your tits, but you don’t have the energy to tell him off. Maybe if he’s attracted to you he’ll make the process of renewing your CCW go faster for you. 

He coughs, looking at the target and nodded, “You uh.. Yeah, you passed. You’re very.. You’re a very good shot. Good form.” You fight the urge you laugh at him. He nods again and inspects your gun before putting it back in the case for you, “So.. You already did your eight hour class?”

You nod. It was annoying as shit but you’d gotten it done the week before you’d gotten your new job. You don’t really trust people out here. ‘Merica. 

He takes a deep breath and nods, “Uhh.. Yeah. Then you’re good! You can uh.. You can pay the fee here if you want or you can go to the..”

You sigh, “I’ll do it now. Don’t worry about it.”

He takes you to the counter and does his thing. You register your G19 but don’t mention your other firearms. It wouldn’t be smart of you to let them run the serial number, considering they belonged to a dead girl.

—--------------------

Sans rested his head in his arms, half-heartedly fighting sleep.

He barely registers Grillby’s warm, gloved hand resting on the back of his skull, fingertips dipping to touch the back of Sans’ neck. It was quiet for a moment, but Grillby lifts his hand and shuffles away as someone steps into the bar. Sans feels them enter, and looks up. 

—--------------------

You blink, surprised to see Sans at the small bar on the edge of the capital. Well, you were in the middle of the monster district, so you supposed you couldn’t be too shocked.

He looked equally thrown off by your presence, but waves you over to sit at the bar with him, so of course you comply. You hop on the stool and wave happily at the bartender, who waves back and comes to take your order. You know you’re driving, so you order a shirley temple with extra cherries.

The bartender, who you guess is Grillby considering the bar’s name, nods and walks off. You turn to Sans, and raise a brow at the Bloody Mary next to him, “Hi. Hungover?”

He blinks, “..no??”

You blush, “Oh. Sorry, Bloody Marys are usually used as a hangover reliever. It’s kind of like drinking a Prairie Oyster. You really only see it for breakfast, you know?”

Sans hums, looking unoffended, “ah. monster’s don’t really get hangovers. this is just a substitute since grillbz gets weird looks when i drink ketchup.”

You turn your head slowly, unable to take the shock on your face. Nor the disgust. Apparently it's the reaction Sans wanted, because he cracks up though your question, “And.. why are we drinking ketchup??”

We listen and we don’t judge. 

…

No, you judge. What the hell.

Sans snickers breathlessly, “it started off just the mess with people. became an acquired taste.”

Your nose scrunches, “...I understand.. Ish.?” His snickers continue and takes another sip. You can’t help but tilt your head, “Actually, I didn’t even know people served Bloody Marys after breakfast.”

Sans smiles, shrugging casually, “‘s brunch.”

—-----------------

She deadpans, “It’s two.”

Sans has to fight down a snort. If watching her and Papyrus interact at the fair wasn’t enough to sell it to him, this was. It was striking, how much she reminded him of Papyrus.

Grillby comes back with her Shirly Temple, a god awful amount of cherries stacked on top, and it sends Sans into another laughing fit with how delighted she looks. Grillby, seeing Sans up and talking to someone, lit up a little, handing her the drink and staying near. 

Papyrus’ assistant happily munches on her bright red cocktail cherries, letting Sans make every pun he can think of until she’s shaking her head disapprovingly at him, “That was terrible.”

Sans raises a brow, “or maybe you just can’t handle the heat.”

The bartender huffs in a way that clearly tells her Sans has done this a thousand times, and she snickers, “What’s the saying.. Out of the frying pan and into the fire?”

Sans blushes a little, glancing to Grillby who’s gone a little pink. Oh, Sans is into the fire alright. Sans is so lucky she’s Papyrus’ soulmate and probably won’t use anything she learns here against them.  “something like that.”

—-----------

1. Oh.

That’s adorable.

It takes you about five minutes into that conversation to realize Sans and Grillby were… together? Pining, at least. 

Aweee….!!!!

You check your watch after you spend another twenty to thirty minutes chatting with your boss's brother and his boyfriend (You are so bad at minding your damn business. It’s the teacher's pet in you.) before you realize you need to leave now if you want to make it to your nail appointment on time. Your nails were always done red, usually either a sparkly chrome or a neon red with whatever designs you were feeling, normally in black or gold.

This time was no different. But you knew you wanted something sharp. Stiletto nails, maybe? Not too long, you needed to be able to grab your gun quickly and precisely to protect yourself if anything happened. Eh. You’d figure it out.

Grillby tries to let your drink be on the house, especially since it was non alcoholic, but you pay in full plus and 50% tip because you had a genuinely pleasant time and him being a fire monster meant no men came to hit on you!

Not to mention, you know money could be hard on non famous monsters!

(And that the more loyal and more generous you were with your bartender, the more protected you would be there. You were pretty good at protecting your drink, but it wasn’t something you liked to risk. It wasn’t in a person's best interest to let someone who’s kind and generous to them be hurt. It’s hard to find ‘good’ people, though that word may not apply to you.)

Grillby’s thankful (He seems like a nice guy. You see yourself being a regular here.), and Sans waves you bye as you exit.

Cuties. 

You privately wonder if they’re.. Ah shit, what did monster’s call them? Soulmates?

Awe. You wished you had that. 

Sigh. 

 You get your nails done and move on.

—-----------------------

Later in the evening, after Sans had already texted Papyrus he’d be spending the night at Grillby’s place, Sans found himself stripped of his jacket and pulled under Grillby’s thick duvet. Why a fire-monster needed blankets was lost on Sans, but Grillby seemed to find them comforting, so Sans wouldn’t mention it.

Grillby is gentle as always, running a hand over Sans’ shoulders and curling into his side. Sans turns to let Grillby spoon him, a shy attempt to hide his face. It was for naught, considering Grillby had already clocked his change in demeanor recently.

Grillby hums softly, tracing Sans’ ribs through the baggy white t-shirt Sans always wears. Grillby doesn’t have his gloves on, but Sans trusts him enough to not think he’s going to try anything crazy like ripping Sans’ glove off or something.

Sans grew up desperately wanting a soulmate, someone who would fix him. He never found them. Once he suddenly got custody of Papyrus, he didn’t have time to look anymore. He didn’t mean to not teach Papyrus about soulmates.. But he wasn’t all that upset that he didn’t let Papyrus spend his childhood searching for someone who wasn’t there. 

“...You… Okay..?”

Sans blinks, shifting a still gloved hand to pat Grillby’s arm. Which was.. Oddly, a little muscular? Heh. Hot. “..m alright. why?”

Grillby hums, pressing his face into the back of his neck, nuzzling the spot where his skull and spine connected, “Just….. rare.. that… you spend Papyrus’.. day off… with me.”

Sans tenses, “shit.”

Grillby lifts himself up with the arm around Sans, unintentionally boxing him on the mattress, “Do you need to go? I can give you a ride?”

Sans looked at him and relaxed, “.. nah. i already texted him, and if i go back now he’ll think something happened. he doesn’t believe me when i say i’m fine anymore.”

Grillby laid back down, tugging Sans closer to his chest, “...For good reason.”

Sans scoffed but couldn’t deny it, turning over to rest his head on Grillby’s chest. Grillby twists to accept him comfortably into his arms. “yeah yeah…”

Grillby hums again, nuzzling into his temple, “So.. what’s going on?” Sans hesitates, but Grillby has always been far more perceptive that people often thought. He was a bartender, after all, not to mention extremely quiet around those he didn’t know well. He’s kind of one of those introverts that need to be adopted. Just a smidge. “Does it have something to do with.. Miss cherry?”

Sans face scrunches in confusion, before it sparks with realization, a soft laugh escaping his teeth, “cherry? she’s papyrus’ new assistant.”

Grillby lets out a soft, “Ohh.” Before tilting his head, “I thought you said the new one was kind? She seemed so today, even without tipping me.”

Sans shook his head, “no, she’s great. that’s… kind of the problem? not exactly.”

Grillby raised a brow, something that literally only Sans could tell he was doing, he knew it, “..And you mean.. What exactly?”

Sans sighs, hiding his face in the crook of Grillby’s neck, “...she’s paps’ soulmate.”

Grillby blinks, thinking of Sans’ genuine terror of figuring out whether or not he and the smaller are soulmates. Grillby didn’t exactly get it, he would love Sans full heartedly no matter if they were soulmates or not. But. If it made Sans feel better to not know (which also did not make sense to Grillby) he’d let it slide. “Ah.”

Sans huffs softly, “she doesn’t know, and paps is already...”

Grillby holds Sans tighter, “You’re sure?”

Sans nods, “he.. he already wants her, and i’m scared she’s going to break his soul. humans don’t understand soulmates.”

Grillby takes a deep breath, and doesn’t call Sans out despite desperately wanting to. “I’d say you should give her and your brother a chance. He’s old enough to think for himself, and smart enough to not let himself get hurt too badly.”

Sans sighs, “i know. i’m… i’m terrified they do work out and he moves on from me. paps has got everything he’s ever dreamed of now. he doesn’t need me anymore.”

“If you think that boy has anything other than love in his soul for you, you’re even more of a numb-skull than I thought.”

The skeleton huffs a soft laugh, but it’s weak. “...you’re right. sorry.”

Grillby presses a kiss to Sans’ skull, “Don’t apologize, dear. I am here for you.”

Sans doesn’t mention that it’s not Grillby’s job to do that, doesn’t mention his guilt for playing chicken with Grillby’s literal soul, and doesn’t take off his gloves.

But he knows himself. He’s a patient monster, but he’s always cared about justice.

He’ll take the gloves off eventually.

Chapter Text

Work is.. Incredible to say the least. You accompany Papyrus to another seven photoshoots after your day off, most times with his own team. Only one of the photoshoots required makeup, which you were super nervous-excited for. 

Papyrus wasn’t concerned about your lack of experience in makeup on bone, sitting cross legged in his vanity chair and smiling at you like you were worth something, even if it was just to be worth something in relation to him as a part of his company. You swallow your nerves and smile back, digging around in your bag for the right eyeliners and shadow palette. Papyrus glances at the makeup bag before looking back to you, “WHAT COLORS ARE YOU THINKING?”

You hum, pondering the question, “Well, they’re dressing you beach-y stuff, so that’s a lot of pastels, but it is sunset themed so… I was wondering if you would trust me on this?”

Papyrus sits up and grins, “OF COURSE!! YOU’RE THE EXPERT!!”

˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Papyrus could barely hold back a laugh. Him? Him?? Not trusting his soulmate? Ridiculous!

The past three weeks with her as his assistant had been amazing! Even without his own crew for photos, she’d made sure he was treated fairly and made very sure they didn’t waste his time, especially not because of something racist! It was an actual breath of fresh air, which was amusing because he did not need to breathe,  but it also meant he got to spend more time with his assistant since she often spent her breaks by his side! 

It wasn’t every day, since she did have paperwork she needed to do on occasion, but most days he found her at his side and stars did it make him feel complete. 

So…

Of course he trusted her. 

She laughs softly, and Papyrus feels himself melt a little bit, “You got it, boss.”

He hopes she doesn’t notice his blush. 

₊˚⊹♡

You’re delighted at the sweet orange dusting his cheekbones, grabbing the white foundation and your favorite brush to use on him, already stained with the white product. He was so helpful, lighting up his face to show you where to apply blush! You pump a bead onto the brush and gently tilt his head up to swipe the soft bristles across their thin line darkening his cervical vertebrae. Papyrus shivers a little, surely from the cold of the product on his surprisingly warm bones. You’re not sure why you imagined Papyrus’ bones to be cool, but the sun-baked-wood warmth of his occasional, accidental touch was pleasant in comparison.

He always had freakishly cold hands, and you were always freezing around him. 

You finish the coverup, keeping Papyrus’ chin tilted up so you could pat setting powder on top, knowing that the shoot was near water and wanting to make sure it would stay put. You turn back to your bag and pull off the pink-ish orange blush that you’d bought specifically for Papyrus. 

“Ta-da! I think this will be really pretty- oh. Do you mind if it’s a smidge feminine? It’s not going to make you look like a girl or anything, I don’t think, but I can can tone anything down-”

Papyrus shakes his head, “IT’S FOR PICTURES! AND I’VE NEVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT BOLD! AND GREAT! I TRUST YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING!”

You blush, but nod, dabbing your blush brush into the compact before gently dusting it onto his cheek bones. It stuck surprisingly well, which you were relieved about since you knew Papyrus was against the sticky-ness of the primer, so you got to work. You gave his cheeks an orange tint that would only get prettier if his magic lit the area up, brushing some on his nose bridge and a little further down from his cheek bones to give the appearance of full-ish cheeks, which using a blue-silver tinted highlighter to sharpen Papyrus’ pretty cheekbones. You use the pad of your finger to apply it, careful not to knick him with your long nails as you dab it into the tip of the ridge of his nose. 

You’re already liking how the look’s coming out, but it’s time for your favorite part and now you’re really excited. You love eye makeup, and Papyrus’ socket shape was really.. Pretty? Dainty almost? You don’t know but you like it. 

You grab your palette that is filled with gorgeous oranges and reds, plus one glittery blue-teal that looks to be the perfect contrast. You grab a small eye-shadow brush and begin applying the bright colors to form a subtle wing, blending it subtly into the blush coating his cheeks before gently taking off the extra product by simply running the pads of your fingers where you wanted it lightened. You didn’t mind your hands being orange if Papyrus liked it! 

Once you were happy with the reds and oranges you used a sunshine yellow to brighten his upper lid, then you very carefully applied the bright teal onto the inner corners. You don’t squeal with how pretty he looks but it’s close. You desperately missed having friends to do this with! 

Your final touch was coating a faux-freckle tool with the glittery, blue teal shade and dabbed it gently on his cheeks.

Grinning, you pull back, staring at your work. Papyrus looked like the sun, or sunset at least, personified. “Okay, Uh, actually ‘Ta-Da!’ this time.”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Papyrus feels heat rise to his face as he stares at her, much more focused on the pride and happiness radiating from her end of the bond exactly what she was saying, but he snaps out of it quickly. Her soft hands on his face were genuinely heavenly and he had to take a deep breath to shake off the sweet tingles to focus on his reflection in the vanity mirror. 

“WOWI- WOW.” He blinked, a little disbelieving. It was... really good. His last actual makeup session resulted in too-pink cheeks and straight construction orange smeared over his eye sockets, and he was at the point where he was starting to think makeup in general just wasn’t his thing, but.

No, this looked pretty!

Papyrus saw himself as a lot of things, but pretty had never been one of them! It wasn’t something he’d wear daily in any way, but for a sunset themed photoshoot, he felt she’d done perfectly.

“I LOVE IT!”

He delights in seeing her face go pink, “You’re sure? I can change it if there’s anything you don’t like-”

He shakes his head and grins, “I’M SURE!”

She sighs in relief and he feels it through the bond, “Awesome. You look great!”

Papyrus grins, ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks, “THANK YOU!”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The photoshoot went well, especially since it was his own crew manning it! The sunset theme, you discover, is part of a multi-monster project to show monsters enjoying the surface to advertise their anniversary. The captain of the royal guard, Undyne, had gotten some cool action shots of her in the water nearby, and it was pleasant meeting her in passing, as well as seeing Papyrus have friends!

Papyrus laughed as she ran her knuckles over the top of his skull, “DON’T NOOGIE THE SKELETON!”

Her laugh sounded straight out of an anime and she did not listen to the skeleton. “How have you BEEN, you NERD!?”

You can’t help but smile as Papyrus playfully attempts to push her off, the tall fish woman simply leaning on him to avoid it. You appreciate that they’re both careful not to smudge his makeup.

Papyrus grins brightly, “I’VE BEEN GREAT! HOW ARE YOU?”

She groans loudly and collapses into him, “It’s SO BORING! All I’m doing is PAPERWORK because of the festivaaaall!” 

He stumbles under her weight before simply letting her fall into the sand with a ‘thump.’ She lets out a sharp cackle while he laughs at her, his classic, “NYEH-HEH-HEH!” echoing across the mostly empty beach. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE EXCITED FOR THE FESTIVAL!”

She drags herself up from the sand and grins, “I AM! But preparing is BORING.”

Papyrus simply shakes his head, “IS ALPHYS ALSO BUSY?”

Undyne nods, her perfect red hair whipping around with the movement, “There’s a lot of power needed to light the area or something!? So she’s having to work to make sure the power doesn’t SHORT! Which is funny because SHE’S short!”

Your boss simply snickers, “I DON’T HAVE MUCH TO DO OTHER THAN THE PHOTOSHOOTS!”

Undyne pouts, then glances at you, “Oh! HEY! Who’s this?”

Papyrus’s skull lights up orange, “OH! THIS IS MY ASSISTANT! I MENTIONED HER TO YOU I’M SURE!”

Undyne bounds up to you and grabs your hand, shaking it quickly. You grip her hand firmly, remembering how your father taught you that handshakes can reflect on one’s personality. “Hi!” 

You tell her your name and she lights up, “Oh YEAH!! YOU’RE the nerd Paps is always talking about!”

You raise a brow at Papyrus, who blushes, “YOU’RE MY FAVORITE ASSISTANT!”

“I’m your only assistant?”

“I MEANT OF ALL OF THE ASSISTANTS I’VE HAD!”

“Didn’t one of them try to poison you?”

Undyne snorts, “Bar’s LOW, Paps!”

The skeleton blushes again, “I WAS NOT POISONED AND EVEN IF I HAD EATEN IT I WOULD’VE BEEN FINE! AND! NOT ALL OF US CAN SUPLEX OUR PROBLEMS!”

You snicker, “Is that a common occurrence?”

Papyrus nods exasperatingly, and Undyne lights up, “YEAH! It’s AWESOME, I LOVE my job!”

You simply listen to them talk, taking a picture of the sunset in the meantime while you wait for the photography team to get ready for the next round of photos. You’re… minorly jealous of Undyne. Her hair is gorgeous, she matches Papyrus’ energy perfectly, and she got to be touchy and playful and totally just friendly with him and you didn’t.

Or! Maybe you shouldn’t think like that!? 

He’s your boss, what the hell?

જ⁀➴

Papyrus feels the spark of jealousy through the bond before it’s immediately shoved down and away.

He blinks, curiously glancing at his soulmate, only to notice nothing on her features. Huh. She was good at hiding her feelings.

Not from him though! He kind of had the ultimate cheat code! 

He asked a couple more questions about Alphys until he finally just asked her for an update on when the wedding was when neither woman got the hint.

He felt a flash of relief that was quickly squashed down, and could barely stop himself from snickering, basking in the warm feeling of her… wanting him. Even if just wanting his attention.

    ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

The next couple days were pretty chaotic in terms of preparing for the event, a festival with the King of Monsters, Asgore Dreemur, giving a speech on peace. You’d never been to a fully monster run festival before, so you were pretty curious what the difference was between it and a human run one.  

Papyrus takes you along with him for a meeting with the king and queen, which stresses you out so bad you buy a classy jumpsuit just for the occasion. 

Papyrus fully pauses when he sees you in it, and you’re worried it’s too much, or not enough, when he smiles softly at you, taking your hand, “YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL!”

You blush and redirect, “You look quite handsome yourself.” He does. Papyrus is suited up again, and while it's more simple than the three-piece he wore to the gala, it feels much more like him.  

Papyrus’ cheeks flash orange, and you swear your heart warms for some reason, “THANK YOU!”

You poke his arm and grin, “We’re gonna be late.”

Papyrus snickers, “Don’t worry, Sans is coming with us! Are you willing to try teleportation?”

Your jaw drops, “ Am I??” 

Papyrus laughs and takes your hand as you step into the elevator to meet Sans on the first floor.

₊˚⊹☆

Sans smiles as casually as ever, but he genuinely is happy despite the festival’s stress. Working with Alphys to make sure there’s no power shortage and privately working with Asgore in terms of security, he’s got his plate full, not to mention putting in a word for Grillby to get some business as the meet.

And on top of that, watching over Papyrus. 

Not that Papyrus needed to be coddled or chaperoned, he was a very mature monster, but he was also Sans’ little brother and his only living family. 

Papyrus’ soulmate had mostly made her way to his good side. She hadn’t done anything wrong to not be on his good side or anything, he was just very picky on who made it there, but stars, she barely had to try with how sweet she was on Papyrus. 

They weren’t together yet, but it was clear they were a team. He noticed that bigger agencies started to respect Papyrus’ time more that she was around, and that Papyrus was actually using his breaks, even if just to talk to her.

It was nice to see Papyrus able to be himself around someone other than Sans. 

And Sans was highly amused to read her sticky notes to Papyrus again.

—---

Sans is Papyrus’ older brother

Sans is a fucking menace?? help??

Papyrus is older than you

No calling him Mr. Papyrus

Or sir, actually

Sans is a magician? What the hell

Likes Nightmare before Christmas

Friends with Undyne (captain of royal guard) (that’s so cool???)

Can feel cold on his bones, but it doesn’t bother him much 

White foundation works! (No reaction)

Has a small scar on neck

Knows Claude???

CLAUDE CALLS HIM SLURS??

Claude called me a gift, Papyrus got mad? Sweetie pie??? Please be more worried about the slurs tho >:0

Looked great in blue! Use it more if possible (use primary color palette?)

figure out if he looks better in silver or gold soon!! some signature jewelry could be cool 

FIND A WAY FOR HIM TO WEAR THE DAMN BOOTS 

Likes fruit snacks :D

—----

Sans nearly cried laughing at the menace and magician comments and found himself smiling at the little doodles scrawled across the paper. He did have to ask Papyrus about some human calling him slurs, but Papyrus was far more focused on the fact that she called him a sweetie pie, laying on his chest on the couch, kicking his feet and giggling behind a gloved hand. Sans was quietly happy, and Papyrus was not so quietly delighted that she cared so much about his wants.

Sans is already giggling at the idea of her face when he teleports her to the meeting.  She looks decently excited, so he doesn’t hesitate to take one of her manicured hands, a red chrome, incredibly sharp, as well as one of Papyrus’ hands and open a door through the void. 

She gasps and looks around for the split second she’s within the darkness, Papyrus gently placing his freehand on her shoulder, before they’re outside the castle. She looks vaguely dizzy and she reaches into her small ‘Juicy’ cross body bag and pulls out one of the small alcohol pads she’d shown at the fair. She steps away to open it, taking a deep breath before using it to clean her phone screen and her watch face. She immediately tosses it after, flashing them a thumbs up before allowing them to lead her into the castle. 

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Teleporting was cool as hell, but that vertigo after almost took you the fuck out. You had to step back for a second to let your nausea fade, and when that didn’t help, you caved to smell the alcohol wipe, which quickly cut through the feeling. Neither skeleton looks at you oddly, which you’re grateful for, smiling patiently until you’re okay enough to follow them into the castle. 

It’s a decently long walk, and you’re ID’d twice. Once by a dog who appeared to be almost entirely blind to anything but motion- you bounced on your feet the entire interaction so he could see you, and you miss Sans and Papyrus’ appraising looks- and once by a pair of guards in full armor, though you can see bunny ears on one of them. 

At one point you see Undyne speaking to another guard, and when she notices your little group, she grins brightly and waves at Papyrus and Sans before resuming her conversation with the guard. 

You’re mainly relieved your fake ID works. 

Papyrus doesn’t take his hand off your shoulder, which you hardly notice at first, but find strangely comforting once you do. You used to hate when Claude, or even Adaline, would touch you at all, even innocently, but Papyrus.. Felt different.

Right, even.

Odd.

You end up in the throne room, Queen Toriel in her six-foot tall glory is being served by King Asgore, who’s only a couple inches taller. You blink and subtly retreat closer to Papyrus’ side. You find comfort in the way his hand slides from your shoulder to your back, blocking the royal’s view of the touch while still grounding you. You flash him a smile, and his eye lights go a little.. Fuzzy? You don’t get a chance to ponder the shift as the monarchy notices the group’s presence.

Your guard drops quickly as Queen Toriel greets the skeletons by name and immediately launches into a pun war with Sans, while Asgore greets you and Papyrus with something as hilariously casual as “Howdy!”

You feel incredibly out of place, though you feel a little better when another monster enters the room with more tea and tiny tea cakes. She’s tall, though shorter than the Queen by a few inches, and appears to be blind. A dog monster, pure white, with a large axe strapped to her back.

She looks badass as hell and you kind of want to paint her.

You feel a small kinship with her, both of you being quiet assistants, though she seems much more confident in her position than you are, even with working under Papyrus for the past month.

Sans and Asgore eventually begin a quiet, serious conversation about security that the rest of you listen in on. It’s then that you and Papyrus learn that both of you are expected to be on stage with Asgore. Off to the side, but still within view. Mettaton was supposed to join but he was switched to performing on a different stage on the other side of the festival. 

You were mildly concerned about your identity being revealed, but figured that if your #BlueBeauty debut hadn’t revealed you instantly, this wouldn’t either. Plus, it was a festival, you’d probably be wearing decently unrecognizable makeup. 

Papyrus was delighted and immediately accepted, though there was a small hushed discussion of Sans being nervous about being nowhere near the stage and Papyrus, since his.. ‘Judge’ abilities(?) where needed at the entrance, but Queen Toriel’s assistant, Dogaressa, quietly confirmed that she would also be on stage and on high alert for any threats.

You’re a little curious how it worked, but figured her hearing or sense of smell was just really good. Papyrus patted Sans’ shoulder with a smile, “I CAN PROTECT MYSELF! PLUS! IT’S A PEACE RALLY! WHO’S GOING TO WANT TO PROTEST AGAINST PEACE?”

You maintain your silence, but you could list a couple names. 

You resist the urge to itch at the ink staining the skin of your hip. 

You’d moved on from that life. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You accompany Papyrus to an interview, a popular news channel wanting to have its first monster speaker. You’re a little nervous about it, since monsters had been on the surface for around three years at this point and they’re only just inviting a monster guest star, but Papyrus and Brenda are okay with it, and you get to stay off camera, so you don’t complain. 

It starts off.. Okay. They pretty much only asked basic questions that they genuinely could’ve just googled like:

“What’s a soul look like?” “AN UPSIDE DOWN CARTOON HEART! VALENTINE'S DAY IS QUITE ODD FOR US!”

“How does intent work with monsters?” “WE’RE MORE SUSCEPTIBLE TO INTENT, BUT IT’S NOT ALL THAT DIFFERENT TO HUMANS! IF SOMEONE INTENDS TO HURT SOMEONE WITH A PUNCH, IT’LL HURT BECAUSE THEY PROBABLY PUT MORE FORCE BEHIND IT! IT WORKS THE SAME WAY WITH US!” 

“So you can’t die unless someone intends it?” “NO, WE CAN DIE! CAVE-INS WERE QUITE DEADLY UNDERGROUND! AND WE HAVE NATURAL LIFESPANS!”

You’re minorly upset they didn’t ask anything about soulmates since it was incredibly hard to research online with how much human media there was about the idea of soulmates. 

You notice some odd looks towards you and Papyrus by other staff members, which supremely pisses you off even if you refuse to show it, but you let it go to keep your full attention on Papyrus.

You cringe when the catering brings in chili hotdogs and subtly begin recording on your phone. They offer one to Papyrus, and he’s forced to refuse on camera. You’re glad you started recording, having a feeling they would cut out his polite refusal with the well-known reasoning that most monsters are vegetarian, with the few substitutions being seafood products like shellfish though few monsters were able to afford the delicacy Underground. 

They attempt to portray his refusal as rude, thinly veiling accusations with jokes about how human food ‘wasn’t good enough’ for monsters. You shut it down immediately by quietly offering Papyrus a granola bar from your purse. When he accepts it- you know you were just barely in frame as you rose to hand it to him- and eats the well known human brand bar on camera, the hosts reluctantly end their ‘jest.’ You immediately send the video to Brenda, who says she’ll handle it. Stars, you love that woman. Papyrus deserved good things.

༺☆༻

There’s very little left to do before the festival, and the day arrives without a hitch. You lean back into the vanity chair as you finish your makeup, professional while still holding a pop of color you loved. You’re excited to do something similar on Papyrus, even if he just requested you to paint little red stars on his cheeks. You’re still incredibly careful with your sharp nails, freshly filled from your appointment a week prior, not wanting to scratch him.

Papyrus smiles up at you as you finish the last star, waving off your apologies as you had to rest your hand on his face to get the stars perfect, before grinning at his reflection in the mirror, “IT LOOKS GREAT! YOU NEVER FAIL TO IMPRESS!”

You blush, but can’t tamp down the pride in your smile, “Thanks, boss.”

You convince him to wear the red boots, though the rest of his outfit is vaguely formal since he would be on TV as the speech would be filmed. You’re wearing something similar, a red jumpsuit paired with a summer jacket to avoid sunburn. 

You, Papyrus, and Sans take Papyrus’ car to the festival, Papyrus delighted to drive again while giving you aux control. 

You played generally upbeat music to combat the awful traffic until the three of you finally arrived. Papyrus got VIP parking, which was heaven sent, and you were officially at the festival! Sans has to dip off almost immediately to help Undyne with security at the front gate, but you and Papyrus were given free passes to enjoy anything in the park. 

It was odd to see Papyrus’ face posted everywhere, especially with your work painted across it. Papyrus just nudges you and tells you you did a great job, because apparently he wants to kill you with praise. 

You avoid the Ferris wheel, not wanting to make Papyrus nervous about the height, but you find out Papyrus loves high speed roller coasters as long as they don’t go backwards! You like them as long as they don’t go upside down!

(It reminded you too much of the crash. The car flipping, the deafening sound of crunched metal as the roof of your father’s truck caving in towards you, being stuck upside down, dizzy-nausiated-scared- for.. You don’t know how long, until the jaws of life ripped you from the seat. You were wearing your seatbelt. It wasn’t enough.)

You can’t stop your sharp nails from tentatively itch the small scars littering the back of your arms through your sleeves from the shattered glass of the window.

You don’t question Papyrus’ dislike of going backwards or heights, and he doesn’t question your fear of going upside down or spinning. 

You just smile at each other.

You’re more than content to hold his hand in effort to not get lost in the huge crowd, monsters and humans mingling, cheering, and screaming on fast- safe, due to Sans’ care- rides. 

The energy is incredible, and you’re happy to be there, letting Papyrus drag you around on any ride he wanted, though he noticeably avoided the ones you didn’t like. You weren’t sure how he knew, since you didn’t mention it, but he did and you appreciated it nonetheless. The two of you run into King Asgore at a food stall and make pleasant conversions. Dogaressa shows you a picture in her wallet of her husband and their three pups, which you immediately gush over. The monster, as badass as ever, simply grins at you.

“You are a good human.”

You pause and look at her, “S-Sorry?”

She smiles and tilts her head a little, “Not that all humans can’t be good. You are just especially good.”

You take her comment to heart. All you’ve ever wanted was to be good.

She tells you about soulmates when you cautiously ask if she and her husband were bonded, admitting you didn’t know much about it and struggled to find information that came from monster intell instead of human speculation. She seemed appreciative, and Papyrus and Asgore were deep into a discussion about flowers, which made you giggle a little, so she didn’t mind telling you.

“All monsters, and humans too, are born with a soulmate..! It’s a partial love bond that you share with someone in the world, but you can’t sense it until you hold their hand for the first time..! It’s why some monsters wear gloves, and why we were confused that you weren’t aware of soulmates, since you humans shake hands so often…!”

You blink, “Wait, wait- humans have them too?”

Dogaressa tilts her head, “Of course. Haven’t you noticed-”

Papyrus startles next to you and you immediately scan the area, but come up empty in terms of threats. Papyrus laughs sheepishly, “SORRY! I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO BRING SANS A LUNCH! WOULD YOU ACCOMPANY ME? GRILLBY’S IS FAR TOO MUCH OF A GREASE TRAP TO TRAVERSE ALONE!”

You’re still a little concerned but wave Dogaressa bye and bow to Asgore, who flusters and waves you off, before following Papyrus to the small booth a familiar fire monster was manning.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🕯⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Papyrus feels bad for startling her. He wasn’t sure what instincts she, or potentially all humans, had to be immediately on guard when he jumped, but Dogaressa nearly told her.

And he was genuinely concerned Sans wouldn’t eat if he didn’t bring him food. 

His assistant follows close to him, not appearing- or feeling- offended about the interruption in the slightest, to his relief. Grillby notices them and perks up, waving. Papyrus sighs, playfully exasperated as he asks for Sans’ usual. Grillby chuckles and nods before turning to her, “...a Shirley temple.., for Ms. cherry..?”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍒ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You blush and laugh, but nod, pulling some cash out of your purse before Papyrus fully body blocks you, not letting you pay for your own drink. It’s awfully playful, and you can’t even find embarrassment in your boss buying you a non-alcoholic drink with how bright his smile is. Grillby laughs softly and nods to Papyrus before turning to the portable grill behind him to make Sans’ food. You elbow Papyrus in the ribs and drop some cash in the tip jar as he tries to gently push you away.

You get your drink- extra cherries- and walk with Papyrus to the front gate, snickering  between sipping as Papyrus complains about grease and Sans’ being bent on healthiness. 

Sans looks incredibly serious as you walk up from the side, watching as he scans ID’s and checks each person to enter before handing them an entrance wristband. He visibly softens when he sees his brother, smiling casually and waving the two of you over. Papyrus hands the bag of food to Sans, who places it on the ticket counter, and happily reciprocates Sans’ fist bump.

The two of you wave Sans bye,  making your way to the stage since it was nearly time for the speech. Many large camera crews were set up to film, and multiple news stations were there with microphones and reporters, which was odd to you since King Asgore never said he was answering any questions.

Papyrus, ever the gentle-monster, helps you up the stairs to the stage. It’s smaller than you thought it would be, and you’re much less ‘on the side’ than expected, but Papyrus puts himself between you and the middle so you are out of focus. You take a deep breath to steel your nerves as Dogaressa and King Asgore arrive on stage. 

“Howdy, everyone! Welcome to the third anniversary of our surfacing!”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, and the joy is infectious. You smile, clasping your hand in front of you. King Asgore’s speech is long, but empowering, and the cheers are…

Half way through the speech you stop paying attention feeling something was wrong. At first you look for him in the crowd, but don’t see any faces you recognize. The nearby speakers and the crowd below you is incredibly overstimulating, but you feel like your head’s in a fishbowl with how everything goes dull in your mild, untimely panic. 

You scan the nearby buildings, forcing your breaths to steady when you just barely see it. Across the street with a perfect view to the stage, is a spark of light in an open window, something reflecting off the sun setting behind you, the orange light reminding you fleetingly of Papyrus’ magic when you see the light barely shift, and you know.

You’re able to shout, “SNIPER!” at the top of your lungs a split second before the shot fires, a loud bang echoing through the festival. It only takes you that split second to drag Papyrus behind you and to the ground, at the same moment his hand shoots out to raise a thick row of bones in front of the king. In the same moment, Dogaressa body slams the king out of the way.

In the next moment, the bullet blasts through the wall of bones and into Dogaressa’s chest. Her expression doesn’t even shift when you hear the sickening sound of, what you later learn was, her soul shattering on impact. You scramble back, keeping Papyrus on the ground, and your right side protected, watching with wide eyes as she turns to dust. 

Your breath shudders as police swarm the area protecting the king. You see Sans in the crowd, more emotion on his face that you’d even seen.

Fear.

Everything had happened so fast. The crowd's cheers had turned to screams, monsters and humans alike scattering, sprinting to the parking lot.

You take a steading breath and push past your fear. You persevere. 

You turn to Papyrus, who is staring at Dogaressa’s dust with wide sockets, the stars on his face smudged with frightened tears. You don’t cry, not yet. You look back to the window and the sniper is gone. Dragging yourself to your feet, you keep Papyrus behind you, overcome with the absolute need to protect him. You know it’s not your job. You don’t care. You point out the snipe-point to a nearby cop, who shakes your hand and tells you to go home. 

You nod firmly, turning back to Papyrus again. He’s looking at you now, shell shocked and afraid. You stumble to him, blocking him from the camera’s behind you, no doubt still rolling, and hug him tight. “I know you’re scared, but we need to go.”

He nods, but he’s shaking, hugging you tight. He calls your name, and it hurts your heart to cut him off, “Papyrus, I need you to trust me. Please.”

💥╾━╤デ╦︻

Of course he trusts you.

He lets his body run on autopilot, allowing you to drag him to his feet, pulling him away from the scene. From the monster he spoke to not twenty minutes ago. From the dust on the ground. 

He’s trembling horribly, and he knows he’ll be wholly unable to drive, but he trusts her, and he trusts that she knows what to do. He’s out of it, but he knows she put him first. She was paying attention. She saw it before anyone, and didn’t second guess herself. She was right.

Papyrus trusted her to be right here too. 

She’s holding his hand tight, but her sharp nails do not nick him. Even when she had pulled him to the ground, her hands on his ribs to keep him out of the shot, she did not hurt him. The sharp tips resting against his sternum felt nothing but safe. She keeps one hand in his, tight as humanly possible, and one on her hip.

Even now, as terrified as he is, out of it and sprinting with his soulmate at his side from a murder in broad daylight, no idea where his brother is and no idea if his friends were safe, or even alive, he knows he’s safe with her by his side. 

🛡⚔🛡

You hear it, faintly in the distance. Someone yelling Papyrus’ name. You barely recognize it as Sans, with how different he sounds. You glance back into the crowd, not stopping for fear of being trampled, but enough to make eye contact with Sans. He looks panicked to say the very least and the tall fire monster at his side is holding Sans’ hand tight. You can hardly read Grillby’s expressions at all, let alone from a hundred feet away. You shout back, “Car!” before tugging Papyrus in the direction of VIP parking. Thankfully the legitimate stampede thins on that path, and you make it to the car. You’ve never been happier to see your corvette.

You nudge Papyrus to lean against the car door, concerned for his heaving ribs and pin pricked eye lights. He slides to his knees and you can almost taste his panic. You kneel at his side and hug him tight, forcing yourself to take even breaths. A grounding exercise doesn’t feel like it would work all that well in this scenario, so you don’t bother trying, simply holding the skeleton. “We’re safe, Paps, I’ve got you,” You take a deep breath and tuck his head into the crook of your neck. It hurts your heart, or maybe your soul to feel his tears against your skin. “Sans is okay, he’s on his way here now. We’re safe, sweetheart.”

Neither of you move for a while, Papyrus’ bony fingers finsting the back of your outfit as you keep holding him. 

You wonder if this is the first time he’s seen someone die. 

It’s certainly the first time you’ve seen a monster dust. 

You hear Sans again, shouting both Papyrus’ and your name. You don’t let go of Papyrus, but shift up enough to not be screaming in his ear canal when you call out, “Over here!”

Sans skirts around the car to find you, looking fully out of breath.

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Sans would never be able to explain the relief. Papyrus was okay. Even Papyrus’ soulmate was okay. She shifts a little, to let Sans see the younger skeleton, and Papyrus looks to his brother with terrified eyelights, their bond drowning in fear and grief. Sans stumbles forward, hugging Papyrus close and forcing himself to breathe. “hey, bud.” Nothing can portray how much he means it when he says, “i’m so glad you’re okay. i love you.”

Papyrus doesn’t speak, but Sans can feel love pour into the bond, a response he’s okay with. He taps his teeth against Papyrus’ forehead before turning to her. He’d heard the shot and teleported as close as he physically could to the stage, unable to get closer due to the amount of people occupying the space. He saw her initial reaction was the same as his would’ve been.

Save Papyrus. 

He drags her into a hug, and he can tell that it’s only the genuine surprise that makes her hesitate a moment before hugging back. 

“thank you.”

Sans knows unfortunately little about this woman, but he knows she’s honest when she whispers, “Always. Always.”

Chapter Text

Papyrus stays in her arms for a long moment. The danger is over. Her shift is long over. She can go home.

She doesn’t move, holding him close, her nails gently pressing against his back. She smells the same, faint peach rings from her little perfume tin, vanilla and jasmine. Floral and fruity, but somehow giving off the feel of professional luxury. It didn’t really fit her personality, as far as he knew, but it did smell like her: As in it smelt almost confusingly safe. Though he could feel her pounding heartbeat with his arms squeezing tight around her, she did not express fear. He could barely even sense it through the bond.

She took deep breaths and hugged him tighter, and he shuddered as he felt the ghost of her breath and soft, albeit chapped and bitten, lips brushing against his neck as she pulled him closer.

Papyrus knows it’s accidental, but can’t help the way his soul flutters, shifting to rest his teeth against her nape. He slowly forces his sockets open to check on his brother, who’s on his knees next to them. Sans’ expression is soft, reaching his hand out to clasp Papyrus’ hand against her back. Papyrus doesn’t hesitate to squeeze it gently, still unable to speak. 

Another moment passes, warm and safe, and it genuinely hurts to pull away, but Papyrus simply knows she won’t let him go until he pulls back and he wants them to be home and safe as soon as possible. 

He begins to pull back, and she shifts to let him, cupping his cheeks gently to brush his tears away. “Are you alright?”

Papyrus nods, but cannot find his voice. 

She nods to herself and shifts her weight to get up, offering him a hand. He takes it, relieved she’s not making him speak. “I can drive..? If that’s okay?”

Papyrus nods immediately, and she ushers him into the backseat, surprising Sans when she nudges him to join Papyrus. Sans blinks and she lowers her voice against the sound of panic around them, “He needs you.”

｡°⚠︎°｡

Sans swallows any and all emotion in that moment, forcing himself to nod before sliding into the back seat. He’d made sure Grillby got to his car safely on his way to Papyrus, so Sans genuinely didn’t have too much to worry about. Everyone he loved was safe.

And he suddenly owed a lot to this girl. Granted, he knew she was Papyrus’ soulmate, and her actions were generally expected, but she didn’t. For all she knows, Papyrus is just a sweetheart of an employer, or hopefully, a friend. 

And she put her life on the line for him.

Sans would do anything in his power to repay that, even if the shot wasn’t aimed at Papyrus. Her intent was there, and it was strong.

Papyrus clicks his seatbelt into place, hesitating only a moment before pulling Sans into a hug. It was sweet and warm, and Sans realizes that Papyrus has never seen someone die before. 

(not in this timeline, at least.)

It breaks Sans’ heart.

“i’m so sorry, paps.”

⋆ ｡˚ 🌧 ˚｡⋆

She had a family. She had three kids. A husband.

She wasn’t even King Asgore’ guard. She was Toriels, but Undyne and Dogaressa had switched out. You couldn’t help but feel relieved that they had. You weren’t sure you could’ve talked Papyrus down from anything if he’d watched his best friend get assasinated.

You take a deep breath and squeeze the familiar groves upon the leather steering wheel, deepened with Papyrus’ use of your car. It feels like home, and you’re careful as you back out of the parking spot, checking your blind spots over and over until you are safely out of the VIP parking lot.

You felt a little better to drive on main roads, even if it’s terrifying to know any of the cars around you could house the sniper who no doubt escaped considering the spotlight helicopter above your head.

It reminds you of home. It hurts to think about.

You’re fine. It’s not chasing you this time.

The car ride is completely silent, but you find it minorly distasteful to play music at the moment. Pulling up to the office is a relief, simply because you’re worried and sparing glances in the rear view mirror doesn’t help the need to make Papyrus feel better.

You… you don’t know why you feel that way. You would’ve tackled anyone off that stage, but you surely wouldn’t have put yourself between Claude or Adaline and a sniper. You don’t think you would’ve held them afterwards, either.

….

You don’t care. Not about them. You care about Papyrus. If it’s kind of odd how attached you are, and vaguely out of character, whatever. The concern for his well-being is there and strong and your gut’s never been wrong before.

You park next to your car and hum softly, grabbing your purse resting on the passenger seat and digging through it. The red stars you’d painted on Papyrus’ face had smeared across his skull, and you happened to see a paparazzi crew at the front of the building. 

Pulling out your makeup wipes and twisting to face the skeletons behind you, your brows knit. Papyrus looks to be almost in shock, and you’d guess he’s overstimulated to the point of being nonverbal. Been there. You hop out the car and come to Papyrus’ side. 

Sans looks vaguely surprised, but you don’t have time or care to question it when Papyrus is turning to hug you again. You calm, gently rubbing his back. “Hey. Can I get those stars off you? Paparazzi’s at the main door. Do you need anything inside the building?”

Papyrus looks overwhelmed immediately by your questions, and you slow down, “Sorry- Ah- these are makeup wipes. They’re unscented.” 

You’d bought them just for him after the fair but hadn’t had a chance to use them. Even the sunset makeup required an oil based cleanser, so your water based wipes wouldn’t have helped.

“Can I get the stars off you?”

He nods twice, still looking pretty out of it, so you keep your touch gentle, supporting his skull with your non-dominant hand on his jaw, and using your knuckles to gently wipe the red pigment from his face. He keeps his eyes shut the entire time, one of his hands holding tight to your forearm, though you don’t feel restrained.

When his face is clean, you almost startle with how bad you want to-

-`♡´-

Papyrus hugs her close, relishing in warmth and safety of having his soulmate in his arms. She doesn’t let him go, or push him away, but she probably should.

He was attached to her. Very much so.

Hiding this soulmate thing was going to be a lot more difficult than he thought.

…

Dogamy would never hold his soulmate again. Papyrus’ soul aches at the thought, but he can barely process the loss and grief. Dogaressa and her family lived in Snowdin. They’d wanted pups for years and now their pups would be too young to remember her. 

It hurt. He holds his soulmate close and hopes to the stars that he will not know that pain. 

He’s never wished for anything so selfish before.

⫘⫘⫘

Papyrus pulls away and you breathe through the oddly perceived loss. “Is there anything you guys need from the building?”

Sans and Papyrus both shake their heads, and you nod. “Good. Do you guys need a ride home? I can get an Uber back here for my car?”

Sans pats your shoulder, “i’ll shortcut us back, don’t worry.”

You nod, squeezing Papyrus’ hand one more time before slipping out of the car. 

Your drive home is nerve wracking.

Okay.

Recap.

You watched someone die today. A monster woman with a family. Dogaressa was loyal.

So were you. You put your life on the line for Papyrus today.

And.

And?

You kind of wanted to kiss him? 

———-

“All Monster Establishments Closed After Assasination Attempt on King Asgore at Peace Festival”

—----

You get off for a week, but it doesn’t feel good.

You buy a large canvas at the store, rummaging through your old paints and… starting. It had been a long time since you’d done a traditional painting just because you wanted to and not because you had an assignment due. You could feel it in your heart though.

You wouldn’t be able to cope through this without doing something. 

You search her name online, and you’re bombarded with photos of her last moments. You frantically scroll until you find a surprisingly regal photo of her on the Capital Ebott Website under the section showing Royal Guard members. You find pictures of Undyne and Dogaressa’s husband, Dogamy, as well. You vaguely recognize most of the monsters on the list, but Dogaressa is the only one you’re truly concerned for.

You zoom in on the photo, grab a pencil, and draw.

Thirty minutes later, your sketch is completed. Her eyes look alive, despite their vaguely blind haze.

You tone your canvas and get to work.

It takes you your entire week off to complete, but it’s entirely worth it. Papyrus or Brenda had given you paid time off and you had nothing else to do.

You look online and find small facts about monsters to enhance it; like adding small, blue crystals in the background, a symbol of hope Underground. You paint buttercups into the foreground, not knowing the exact reasoning of their popularity Underground, but remembering that you’d seen the golden flowers all over the castle during your visit. 

When it’s finished, when it’s too realistic to look at without grief, you find a frame for it. Something regal. 

You sign the painting with your new name on the back of the canvas, and scribble-sign on the front, very small in the bottom right corner once you realize it looks a little empty. 

You stare at it until it hurts, unable to find any problems, before going to sleep.

You see her in your dreams just before they slip into nightmares.

…

You walk into work, your heels clicking quietly on the tile. It echoes with how little people are in the lobby. The painting is heavy, and the wire you’re using as a handle is slowly cutting into your hand, but you can’t find it in you to care. You poured every emotion you have into the painting and now… you need time.

Gracie looks up from her desk, offering you a soft look. “...I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

You offer her a nod, “I’m alright. Nothing broken or bruised, at least.”

Gracie grimaces, “I saw the.. I saw it live. I saw you and Papyrus go down and-”

You put the painting down and take her hand. “I pulled him down. I swear to you, I’m- we’re okay.”

Gracie squeezes your hand before pulling you into a hug over her desk. You happily accept, patting her back. “You saw her..”

You nod, “...Yeah. Is uh… Is Paps-Papyrus here?”

She looks around, “Yes. The King and Queen are, too. Upstairs.”

You wince, but can’t help but feel glad that you can just ask them how you can give Dogamy the portrait of his wife. 

You wave Gracie bye and grab the painting, making your way to the elevator. You’re startled to see Mrs. Thibedoux in the hall, waiting for you. You hadn’t seen her since your first day, but she smiles and greets you like an old friend. You shake her hand and smile back as she joins you in the elevator.

You silently show her the painting, and she gushes over it, “Oh, dear, that’s incredible! Do you plan on giving it to..?”

You nod, “The monarchs are here, right?”

She looks up, “Yes.. They’re meeting with Brenda and Papyrus right now.”

You hum, shifting your grip on the wire, “I’ll wait in my office and maybe catch them before they leave..? Or is that.. Bad?”

She blinks, “Uh… no? They’re quite relaxed for royals.”

You shrug, and the elevator dings. You wave her bye with your freehand, but you barely make it to your office door when Papyrus himself appears from Brenda’s office. He sees you and visibly relaxes, “GOOD MORNING! ARE YOU BU-“

He blinks. “WHAT IS THAT?”

You tilt your head before the wire digging into your palm reminds you, “Oh, uh- good morning! Uh, it’s a painting.”

You twist your wrist to show him and he stops in his tracks. “OH. IT’S… IT’S BEAUTIFUL, I..”

He looks away and you get it. “It.. I kind of hate it. Hurts to look at.”

His lights stay on the floor as he nods. “YOUR TALENT IS INCREDIBLE, IT… SHE LOOKS..”

“Alive?”

Your brow furrows. He glanced up at you and nods. “YES.”

You tilt the painting to your side again, blocking the portrait from view as you approach him. You’re… hesitant, not exactly sure where you stand with him, but the second you’re in reach, Papyrus hugs you tight.

“I… I DIDN’T…” he huffs. “I didn’t get to thank you.”

You blink, “Thank me?”

He squeezed you a little, “I panicked. Froze. You got me out.”

You.. you soften. Oh. “Paps.. Your reaction was nothing but valid. It was scary and.. you tried. I saw your attack. It blocked the path.”

Papyrus flinched, “IT WASN’T ENOUGH. She still died.”

You rub his back gently with your free hand. “You tried. You didn’t freeze when it mattered. You trusted me.”

He melts a little, “Of course I trust you.”

You don’t let emotion… do. No emotion. Bad. “Plus, it probably slowed the bullet enough to allow her to get Asgore fully out of the way.”

Papyrus hummed weakly, “BUT SHE’S STILL GONE.”

You nod a little, “She made her choice. She was brave. She’ll be remembered for it. You tried. The intent was there.”

Papyrus hesitated… but nodded. “…I wanted to thank you for pulling me down. You… I watched the tape.”

You had too. Mainly to see if you would be recognizable since you were sure he would see the news. You were pretty sure you were good. “They weren’t aiming for you, I.. I didn’t do much.”

Papyrus nuzzled you a little, and you’re too emotionally drained to think about it. “THE INTENT WAS THERE.”

Chapter Text

Papyrus just barely curbs the urge to press a kiss to her temple as he pulls away, gently squeezing her upper arm. She smiles, but it’s watery. He feels it though the half formed bond that she’s sad. 

She’s upset and he doesn’t know how to help without crossing lines.  He doesn’t know where the boundaries are that will ruin what he does have, and he’s honestly petrified at the thought of making her more upset, so he simply steps in line with her, gently steering her towards Brenda’s office. “I HOPE YOU’RE NOT TOO BUSY! THE KING AND QUEEN WANT TO SPEAK WITH YOU!”

Her face goes a little pink, but she doesn’t seem too put out by it, “Oh, uh, I wanted to see if they could find a way to get the painting to Dogamy, so.. Sure?”

Papyrus paused, “OH! Dogamy is also here.”

He feels her soul sink.

—-------

Shit.

As much as you wanted to give the painting to him, you kind of wanted someone else to just in case he hated it or it was too much or-

You take a deep breath. It’s not like you can just hide the painting somewhere, so. You’re committed now! You only want to strangle yourself a little bit! You let Papyrus steer you towards the office, finding his hands a comforting weight on your shoulders. He opens the door for you, which you would normally comment on, since it was your job to do assistant stuff, but when your eyes laid on the monster standing at Brenda’s desk your words died.

Dogamy was a little taller than you’d imagined, a small tuft of fur at the bottom of his chin and dark circles around his eyes made him look a little scruffy, but you could tell it was him. He was holding himself incredibly well for having just lost his wife and soulmate, but you had experience with A) ignoring it until you can’t anymore then shutting down, and B) forcing yourself to get through it because other people relied on you, so you doubt his straight face was from lack of love towards his late wife.

You suddenly recall the three kids. 

Yeah. Too many people needed him to have his shift together for him to process anything. That wasn’t even counting the royal shit he had to do.

You twist your wrist to keep the painting from showing. It wasn’t the time yet.

You startle when you hear a soft, “Hello, my child,” to your left, turning to see the queen herself sitting in one of Brenda’s visitor chairs, holding a cup of tea, “Oh! I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

You shake your head and bow to her, as well as Asgore behind her, before responding, “You’re fine! I wasn’t uh- I’m a little out of it, right now?”

Her eyes soften, and she reaches to take your free hand in her paws after setting her cup of tea down on a coaster. “I believe we all are, dear.”

Asgore rises to his feet, lumbering carefully closer before bowing his head to you. You’re so focused on the large monster approaching, that you don’t notice Papyrus’ right hand slip from your shoulder to your waist as he shifts to make space for the royals in the small office.

The king  gently shook your hand after the queen released it, squeezing it in fluffy fingers before simply holding it, “I would like you formally thank you, young one. Your attention to detail saved my life, as well as the potential lives of others.”

You know.

You know you should smile, accept his thanks, and be on your merry way, but it’s wrong.

You shift to stand straighter, “With.. WIth all due respect, your highness,” You don’t pay attention to his clear embarrassment as you use his title, “Dogaressa saved you, not me. I.. I shouldn’t be the one praised here.”

You startle again when you notice movement to your right. You’d almost forgotten Dogamy was here. He looks visibly appreciative, and his voice is soft when he speaks, “She wouldn’t have gotten to him in time. You called it before the shot went out, and she trusted your judgement.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you force out, “And it.. It killed her.”

Dogamy silently studied your face, “...You blame yourself.”

Your jaw clenches, but you find comfort in the way Papyrus, though silent, pulls you just a little closer into his side, his hand on your hip. You let your gaze fall to  the floor before the dog monster hums, crossing his arms. Your gaze snaps to his, and he smiles, “I knew when I married her that she was loyal to the end. And I knew that this was a possibility. You allowed her to make that choice.”

You almost choke, “..what choice?”

Dogamy’s eyes go a little far away, and your heart hurts. “Whether our children live without a mother, or live without peace. Because with our king assassinated, monsters and humans would be at war again. There is no question.”

It takes a moment, but you get it. She wasn’t just protecting the king. She was protecting monsterkind; And most importantly, her family.

You understand.

It still hurts.

You swallow it for later and twist your wrist to swing the painting around, letting the pain from the wire ground you for a moment before paying attention again. You just miss Papyrus’ startled expression when you scan the room. Brenda looked like she was about to say something, but paused with her mouth open in a soft ‘o’. Toriel and Asgore still go, a surprised expression on both of their faces. You realize belatedly that they probably didn’t know you’re a painter.

(You wish that’s all you were sometimes. It had been your first dream, after all.)

Dogamy doesn’t say anything for a long moment, silent as he stares, so you fill the silence, “I uhm, I wanted to do.. Something. So. I painted her, uh, for you. I hope.. It’s okay?”

God, you sounded ridiculous. You were normally so good with your words, but bullshiting with humor didn’t exactly seem appropriate, and you were too thrown off your game to do anything but snap back into your professional mode. “I hope it’s to your standards,” You try again, focusing on the wire and keeping your breathing even, “I attempted to-”

You’re startled when Dogamy hugs you, but allow it. “Thank you. I.. I cannot… I cannot express the meaning of this. Thank you.”

Oh. He liked it.

You did.. You did good. You can let go now.

You’re almost reluctant to, but you don’t hesitate in handing Dogamy the painting, subtly brushing your black sleeve over the wire just in case. Dogamy accepts it with grace, holding the sides of the frame and staring at it before bowing his head a little to you and thanking you again.

You flush and flash him a smile, “I- I wanted to. It was a pleasure. She’s.. Beautiful.”

You did the right thing.

You did all you could. 

You shouldn’t be digging your nails into your palms, why would you do that? You’re not being punished.

You did good, gold star.

You space out as Brenda and the royals talk about having a public, and private, memorial for Dogaressa. Dogamy occasionally piped up with input on arrangements, like wanting the painting to be shown there, mentioning her favorite color and scents, things their kids would like…

And you feel like you’re underwater, a little. You hear them, and you're aware they’re speaking words you know, but you simply can’t bring yourself to comprehend them. Everything is fuzzy and you realize you’re not breathing after Papyrus squeezed your shoulder, radiating alarm.

Haha, you forgot he was there. He feels so right by your side that you hadn’t noticed.

You wonder if that’s kind of what soulmates feel like.

Oh. You still aren’t breathing. 

You take in a slow inhale, fighting the panic in your lungs to breathe, and making sure your catch up isn’t noticeable. You dig your nails in deeper, attempting to ground yourself best you can in a room of royals, a grieving husband and father, and your bosses, but the spark of pain does little.

Oh.

Oh.

You’re having an anxiety attack.

Cool.

You haven’t had one of those in months! Wow! You did not miss it!

You swallow it back best you can, bringing your attention forward—

The lights are too bright.

It’s enough to tip you over until Papyrus shifts again, in front of you, speaking. It’s loud, but it doesn’t bother you. Feels right. You don’t get much chance to look at their faces or try to understand what Paps just said before he’s gently ushering you out of the room, leading you near silently to his dressing room.

You trust him blindly and follow without hesitation, relieved to find the lights off. He gently steers you towards the couch and gently taps your shoulders until you sit. Papyrus plops down next to you, an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

And you stay like that, in silence.

Hell, you’re wasting his time. Your nails, sharp for this purpose, sink into your palms. You need to get up. You will not be a burden in your workplace like you were back home. 

Papyrus says something, maybe your name, but you don’t really hear it.  It’s not until he’s gently unfurling your hands that you realize he’s talking to you. He frowns at the bruises dotting your palm, looking almost frightened by the torn line slacking through the middle, bruised to shit.

You barely register the pain, but Papyrus seems to. He slipped off his gloves but hesitated a moment. He cups your cheek, brings your attention to his face, and you kind of just want him to keep touching you. You squint, and he says your name, but you can’t seem to get your brain to work enough to say his back.

You nod a little. He looks relieved and rambles about something for a while. You still can’t seem to make yourself understand English, but your voice unlocks just enough to mumble, “I trust you,” to him.

Papyrus looks startled for a moment, before gently taking your hands into his own.

———— 

Papyrus doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Well- He knows how to heal humans, and he knows she’s upset, but-

He’s never seen her upset before. Felt it, on occasion, sure, but. This was different. She shut down like he did, only she was physically hurting herself in an attempt to bring herself out of it instead of just letting him help her. He took a deep breath and his hands lit up green and surrounded her palm in warmth and the smell of tangerine and brown sugar. Papyrus can barely take notice of his magic shining in her eyes, let alone take delight from it. 

Her eyes are wide with wonder as she watches her skin mend, not leaving a scar. She looks up at him, eyes still bright, and he gets the nickname, ‘Firefly’ now. 

Papyrus holds her hands a little tighter while they stare at each other. He tries to smile, but her brow furrows and she looks away. He lets her stare at the ground for a moment, still holding her hands in fear of her sharp nails digging into soft skin again. It was… odd to him. Her nails were so careful on him, her hands nothing but gentle when brushing over his bones, yet she didn’t hesitate in the slightest to cut into her own skin with them.

He allows her silence, shifting to wrap an arm around her back and shoulders before reclaiming her hands in his. She was out of it, he could tell, but that was okay. If she could save him from a terrorist attack, he could save her from herself.

Papyrus startles when she shudders a little, pulling her closer against his side. She doesn’t protest, but takes back one of her hands, covering her mouth and letting her chin rest on the heel of her palm with her elbow propped up on her knee. Her hair falls in front of her face, but Papyrus can feel her grief through the bond. He doesn’t hesitate to shift, facing her and pulling her to lean against his chest. He doesn’t know where boundaries lie, but he figures that running his fingers carefully through her loose hair was safe. He was gentle, and it wasn’t long until he realized he was mindless weaving small braids into her hair, a skill he’d gained underground when helping the guard build bridges and traps. He hadn’t completed a puzzle, let alone made one in years, but the motion is familiar. As always, his soulmate, despite being entirely unknowing of it, made him feel like he was coming home. 

It was staggering. 

He didn’t know it— anything– could feel like this. The dating manual was clearly a piece of shit, and Sans was ridiculous to not see if he had this with Grillby already. 

He already..

He’d never wanted anything so badly before. 

He’d go back underground, if she’d follow.

They sit in near-perfect silence for a long time, and he doesn’t stop her from checking her phone before she looks up at him. She wipes under her eyes again, her mascara surprisingly unbothered and her eyeliner smudging a little onto her knuckles, but not across her face. Her eyes are a little red, and he can’t help the guilt rush through him when he realizes he’s surprisingly still very attracted to her at the moment. She was… beautiful. 

It didn’t mean he couldn’t go his whole life without seeing her cry again though. His soul hurt for her and wanted nothing other than to just hold her and tell her everything will be okay.

So he does. 

He gently wipes a small smudge of eyeliner from her temple, brushing her hair out of her face and smiling, “...IT’S GOING TO GET BETTER. I PROMISE.”

She laughs weakly, and his soul flutters when she leans her cheek into his hand, a small smile growing on her face, “I trust you.”

Chapter Text

Papyrus gently brushed the tears from her cheeks, brow pinched. “WHAT.. WHAT WE WENT THROUGH, AND WHAT WE SAW WAS… TRAUMATIC, IN THE LEAST. WE WERE BOTH ON STAGE AND WE BOTH GOT FRONT ROW SEATS TO HER DEATH. I KNOW.. I KNOW YOU ARE PROBABLY TIRED OF BEING CODDLED BY EVERYONE. SANS AND THE OTHERS HAVE BEEN ON MY TAILBONE SINCE THE FESTIVAL, AND THOUGH I APPRECIATE IT, TRUELY, THE TRUTH IS NEEDED.”

She pauses, “I uh, I completely understand. It gets… tiring. To be.. Uh, coddled.”

The skeleton pauses, immediately realizing he has said the wrong thing. He gently takes her hand, “DID… DID I SAY SOMETHING? I’M SORRY.”

Her hair, fallen entirely from her updo, whips around her head like a halo with how fast she shakes her head, “No! No, I just- Uh. I don’t have any family or friends in this area.”

Something about the way the end of her sentence doesn’t sound tacked on, but feels it, has Papyrus feeling that she may not have family at all. His soul aches for her, his hands shaking for a moment as he’s smacked in the face with how lucky he is to have a support system like Sans. Like his friends.

 “...YOU HAVEN’T HAD…. ANYONE TO TALK TO….HAVE YOU?”

A little red, she looks away, “Ah, it’s not really a big deal. I uh.. I didn’t get hurt, you didn’t get hurt, and I uhm.. Yeah. I don’t really have anything to talk about?”

Papyrus is momentarily… angry. Which. Wow, hi! That didn’t happen often! If you could go back in the box of things he chooses not to think about, like taxes and his father- bad memories, that would be great!  

He takes a second to breathe before gently brushing her hair out of her face. “I DON’T MEAN TO OVER STEP, BUT I FEAR THIS IS SOMETHING YOU NEED TO HEAR! I DON’T KNOW WHO TOLD YOU THAT YOUR FEELING WERE INVALID IF YOU WEREN’T HURT ‘ENOUGH’ BUT THEY WERE INCREDIBLY WRONG! AND WHILE YOU ARE CLEARLY VERY GREAT AND CAPABLE OF KNOWING THAT, SOMETIMES WE NEED A REMINDER THAT WE DON’T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE STRONG! AND I WILL GENUINELY CRY IF YOU FEEL YOU CANNOT EXPRESS THOSE FEELINGS!”

She blinks, but doesn’t say anything or feel upset, so Papyrus takes it as permission to continue. “YOU DID NOT SHAME ME, OR MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I WAS OVERREACTING WHEN IT HAPPENED, AND WHEN IT MATTERED FOR ME TO BE PRESENT, YOU WERE THERE FOR THE BOTH OF US. SO! I! AS YOUR FRIEND! WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO SPEAK- OR THINK!- LOWLY OF YOURSELF FOR EXPERIENCING EMOTION! YOU HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO FEEL UPSET! AND I’M VERY SORRY FOR ASSUMING THAT YOU HAD ALREADY PROCESSED IT! I AM VERY AWARE THAT I’M VERY LUCKY TO HAVE A SUPPORT SYSTEM LIKE MY BROTHER AND MY FRIENDS! AND YOU DESERVE A SUPPORT SYSTEM AS WELL!”

Her eyes go glassy, and Papyrus momentarily panics, not sure what to do before he starts panic braiding her hair again. “IF YOU DO NOT CURRENTLY HAVE ONE, PLEASE, ALLOW ME TO SHOULDER SOME OF THE WEIGHT. I HAVE A LOT OF PEOPLE, MY DEAR, AND WHILE I WON’T SAY I’VE FULLY PROCESSED WHAT HAPPENED, I CAN SAY THAT YOU WEREN’T ALONE. AND YOU STILL ARE NOT ALONE.” His soulmate’s tears fall, and he’s quick to brush them away, doing a larger braid near her temple once his hands were no longer busy, making sure that one was especially pretty since it was quite visible. “PLEASE, ALLOW ME TO BE HERE FOR YOU, LIKE YOU WERE FOR ME. WE’RE A TEAM, REMEMBER?”

She sniffed a little and nodded, staring at her lap before hesitantly leaning forward to hug him. Papyrus’ soul immediately blossoms with warmth, and he holds her close, careful to keep his hands on her back and shoulders. The last thing he wants is for her to think he’s copping a feel, stars no. 

But he can’t help but notice how soft she is. Not just her hair and skin, she was just.. Perfect. He (thankfully) does not experience any inappropriate thoughts, too caught on the need to comfort her to focus on the way he can feel the ridges of her spine, or how the incredibly soft, delicate skin of her neck feels against his cervical vertebrae, or how the curve of her waist, and the dip of her hip, felt under his fingertips earlier, but he’s sure it’ll haunt his dreams.

Pleasantly, of course!

He ignores the heat coating his cheekbones and begins braiding, and unbraiding her hair again. “I hope you don’t mind me touching your hair. Normally I would never touch someone without consent, which is so odd to me that it’s not a common human mindset, but I kind of panicked!”

Papyrus is treated to a small laugh as she pats his back gently, “I don’t.. I don’t mind at all. No one’s played with my hair in… probably twenty years..?”

Papyrus pouts, “Well, that’s no fun. Your hair is so soft and pretty! I can’t imagine why not!”

She snickers but doesn’t respond.

—-------------

You look silently at your hand from behind Papyrus’ back. He’d… healed it. You hadn’t even asked. You didn’t even know he’d noticed you’d sliced your hand. Or when your nails dug in. 

But. 

He was paying attention to you, clearly. 

And.

Oh, you know that it’s dangerous. You know you should want him to ignore you, in interest of keeping your identity. 

…

But.

How long have you needed to hear that? How long had it been since it was okay to feel something without it being compared to someone else's pain? How long has it been since someone was on your side?

Not.. Not the side you were on, but your side.

Telling you it was okay.  

You don’t choke on your words, but it’s close. “..We’re friends?”

Papyrus’ arms tighten around you for a moment, before he nods against you, “Of course!”

You knew then that you didn’t deserve Papyrus. Not in a thousand lifetimes could you deserve him. But you’d always been selfish. If he is offering himself to you, he is yours.

—-----------------

Papyrus never knew soulmates could feel like this. 

He’d never wanted something so badly in his life.

—------------------

A week later, you stand at the castle again. 

As always, you're at Papyrus’ side. He’s not wearing his gloves again, and you’re privately delighted by the wonder in holding his hand. It feels alive, of course, but so odd and so cool. You wonder if he’ll let you paint him someday, or if you’re super lucky, he might let you study his hands! He catches you staring at them a couple times, which makes your face flush hot with embarrassment, but he doesn’t seem to take offense. He smiles sweetly at you and squeezes your hand a little tighter before relaxing it at bringing his attention back to the purpose of your visit.

Which.

You suck at your job, because you are actively trying to ignore it. 

The royal guard sets up the large room beautifully, streamers and lights and crystals are hung from the ceiling. Oddly, there is a large jar of snow on the main table. Your painting is propped up in the center of the table, just behind the urn holding Dogaressa’s dust. You keep your eyes down, unable to look at her painting and see her likeness in the three small children running around, carrying chairs to other royal guard members and laughing.

You notice Papyrus’ eyelights are soft as he watches them. 

Quietly, he tells you their names, how Toriel was at their birth, and that they were one of the first monsters in the present day to be born on the surface. You ask about the snow.

He softens further, squeezing your hand, “It’s Monster tradition to spread our dust over our home, or somewhere they wanted to be laid. Sometimes it’s spread over items and distributed to family and friends, sometimes it’s a mix of both. The snow is from where we’re from Underground.”

You recall the name immediately, “Snowdin, right?”

He nods, “She was stationed there for a long time after the Queen retreated to the ruins, not that I knew, of course.”

You tilted your head, “What do you mean?”

Papyrus blinks, smiling, “Well, I’m not that old! Toriel had moved to the ruins three hundred years ago! Dogerassa was her handmaiden and main guard prior to that, and stayed in Snowdin since it was very near to the ruins, and a.. A good place to have a family.”

There’s.. There’s a lot there. “..How.. How old is Queen Toriel?”

Papyrus just smiles, “No clue! Probably about thirteen hundred, though! She looks very good for her age, doesn’t she?”

You blink, and let out an exasperated laugh, “Yeah, not a day over six hundred- how long do monsters live?!”

Papyrus stares at you a moment before cracking up, “RIGHT. HUMANS ONLY LIVE TO AROUND A HUNDRED?”

—------

He ignores the spike of fear in his soul. There hasn’t been a monster-human soulmate bond made public in a very long time. He wasn’t sure what would happen when he outlived her. It.. It wasn’t exactly something he wanted to think about. At all. 

“Papyrus, a hundred is if we are lucky. Very lucky.”  

He doesn’t wince. Not at all!

He clears his non-existent throat and forces a smile, “WELL, MONSTERS HAVE A VARIETY IF LIFE SPANS! IT DEPENDS ON YOUR- ER, OUR– SUBSPECIES! LIKE.. WHIMSUMS USUALLY LIVE ABOUT FIFTEEN TO THIRTY YEARS, BUT BOSS MONSTERS LIKE TORIEL AND ASGORE WOULD LIVE TO ABOUT FIVE THOUSAND!”

She stares at him a moment, “And.. you and Sans?”

He smiles softly, “I’M ACTUALLY NOT SURE. WE’RE THE LAST OF OUR KIND, AND.. NEITHER OF US-” He realizes his volume and immediately lowers his voice, “Neither of us were close to our parents. So! Sans expects that we’d live anywhere between three hundred.. And three thousand!”

It’s not the most useful scale, but it’s enough to know she’d die long before him. 

And.

No. He needs to talk to Sans about it. If there's a will, there's a way!

And there is no way his soulmate would die so young! A hundred, truly, ridiculous! He’s sure Toriel or Asgore had some old magic thing to prolong a life!

But!

That is for later discussion!

Y’know, when she’s actually his and not his assistant.

… if. If she’s ever his. 

He takes a breath.

She blinks, “That’s.. A long time. How.. How long was Dogaressa..?”

Papyrus hummed, “Dog monsters usually live between seven hundred to fifteen hundred. She was quite healthy, so I can imagine she would’ve reached over a thousand… given the chance.”

They both wince a little, and she squeezes his hand, “...I’m sorry about your parents.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t fret! Sans raised me perfectly well! I had an incredibly happy childhood!”

He’s surprised when warmth floods the soulbond. Her smile is a little sad. “That’s.. Really sweet. My brother raised me, too.”

He’d suspected before, but he knows now. “I’m.. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Papyrus, for… well not for once, but it was quite rare, is at a loss for words. He genuinely can’t imagine not having Sans. Not having anyone. Losing Sans would break him, and he’s suddenly dumbfounded with how much resilience humans have. Or maybe just his human. (Stop saying that. She’s not yours.)

It makes him wonder about her soul color. 

Determination, maybe? Bravery? She was brave as hell at the festival. He could definitely see her being Justice, considering how hard she fights for him. She was Kind as hell, Patient with him… Maybe not the most honest considering she hid her emotions often, but he wasn’t sure if that really counted against having an Integrity soul. Perseverance… Maybe? 

Her wave of sadness through the bond crashes through his thoughts, and his arm is around her before he can even think, “Sorry! Sorry, I.. I’m not sure what to say. I can’t imagine..”

She smiles at him and laughs it off, which. Hurts him. A little. “It’s okay! It was a long time ago.”

Papyrus’ brow pinches. “...I don’t think I would’ve ever recovered. You’re much stronger than me, darling.”

—-------------

You smile softly. “I didn’t think I would either. But I did. And you’re very strong! And great!” You hip check him to lighten the mood and he laughs softly, nodding.

“OF COURSE!”

You catch the pet name. 

…You kind of like it. The slightly-southern charm of it reminds you of home.

—------

The celebration of life is beautiful. You see hundreds of monsters and the occasional human alike, sharing candy and food, not to mention toys for the littles. It was kind of like a birthday party.

You mention as such to Papyrus, who smiles and nods, “QUITE SIMILAR! ONLY MONSTERS ONLY CELEBRATE MILESTONE BIRTHDAYS AFTER THEY GET A CERTAIN AGE! APPARENTLY ONE GETS TIRED OF CAKE!”

You laugh, “I’m guessing you’re not that old yet?”

Papyrus grins, “ STARS, NO! NT WHEN THERE'S SO MANY FLAVORS TO TRY!”

“You know, you can have cake when it’s not your birthday too?”

“BUT THEN IT’S NOT SPECIAL!”

—-----------

As the ceremony dies down, Dogaressa’s immediate family, consisting of Dogamy, the three pups, and a very, very large monster that kind of looked like a bunch of dogs in once dog body stood at the table. Dogamy took the urn from the table, which when questioned, Papyrus quietly corrects the term to ‘Star Jar’, and opens it. 

He dips his paw inside, pulling back with his thumb pad covered in a silvery, glitter. You adjust yourself in your seat, surprised. You supposed you should have guessed monster dust would look magical, but. Huh. 

Dogamy silently approaches his children, and one by one swipes a line of dust over their foreheads, then over the center over their chests. He does the same to the very large monster. 

King Asgore, who stood in full military and royal regalia, quietly shuffled to the soldier, accepting the Star Jar from his paws before doing the same ritual to Dogamy. 

Dogamy cries silently as the glittery substance is brushed over the fur above his muzzle and over his heart.

You don’t understand, you know it means something, and tears build in your eyes. 

Asgore does the same to Toriel, who then takes it and repeats it to him in turn.

You don’t understand.

But it’s beautiful.

You don’t ask until the funeral has practically ended, the precious items laid across the table put away as the press are allowed entry. 

Papyrus’ expression is soft, just as it had been the entire afternoon. “It’s something done for close family and friends. It represents their presence always remaining in mind and soul. It’s called rememorialization, but most monsters just say Remem.”

You lean back in your seat, “...It’s beautiful.”

Papyrus pauses a moment, before you catch his smile out of the corner of your eye. His left hand continues to fiddle with his white suit coat, a color choice you found interesting, and squeezes your hand for a moment with his right, “Thank you.”

—--------

Papyrus holds her hand as long as he’s allowed before he’s forced to let her go so she can accept her award. Dogamy holds the painting near the podium Asgore, then Toriel makes speeches at. Peace speeches, appreciation and mourning for the life lost. Papyrus finds it a little hard to pay attention with the amount of anxiety radiating off his soulmate’s form, so he squeezes her hand tight until her name is called. 

The camera tracks her as she walks to the stage, but Papyrus is watching her hands, hoping he doesn’t see her nails sink into her palms again. His worries are not at all nullified when her shaking hands clasp behind her back as Asgore pins a small Green heart, then an Orange one, to her dress.

Asgore tells the audience about her Bravery in the face of danger, and her willingness to other’s lives before her own, and her Kindness to monsterkind in the face of loss. She’s not expected to make a speech, but the news crew urges her too. She says nothing but-

“I didn’t do it for an award. And I wish I could’ve done more. All I can say is that Monsterkind has done and shown nothing but good since the moment the barrier broke. I believe humans should repay that in kind. No lives need- needed to be lost in this. Especially not a mother’s.”

And Papyrus is proud.

That’s his soulmate, and he’s proud to be hers.

Or. At least someday! Hopefully!

—---------

Brenda stares silently at her laptop as the news plays live. Held hands and an incredible impromptu speech.

Twitter is trending already, having found the ‘Blue Beauty’s name. 

Most were excited, of course. And it made great publicity.

But there were just enough people concerned, angered, and/or disgusted by the idea of a human-monster relationship. 

“Hmm.”

Brenda would have to play her cards carefully. She liked ‘Blue Beauty,’ of course. Just bold enough and protective enough of Papyrus to land on her good side, just sweet enough on him to get in Sans’ good graces. Pretty enough to be eye candy next to the skeleton. 

But she cared too much for Papyrus to let a girl tank his reputation. 

Oh, yes. 

She’d have to play very carefully from now on.

Chapter Text

Wrinkled fingers, nails painted a simple red, paused the news stream. Her grandchildren had long set up Youtube on her TV and she found it oh, so convenient to be able to pause FOX when she needed to tend to one of the little rascals, read something, call someone, or in this case, confirm her eyes were not deceiving her.

The large windows were, as usual, unshielded by blinds or curtains, for she loved the natural light, but the TV was her only source in the early night. She had stopped in her nightly gathering of strewn toys and tossed couch cushions, using a mini-vacuum to clean the spilled Cheez-it’s from the couch. She collapsed wordlessly in her large loveseat, tapping gently at her remote. 

She didn’t wear glasses, but oh, she felt she needed them now. 

The woman, who looked decently young for seventy, is deaf to the harsh words the news castor spits, ignoring the grating voice to focus in on the face of the beautiful young woman on the screen.

A woman she happened to bear striking resemblance to. 

Though her beautiful hair was dyed and cut, Adelle recognized those eyes-nose-jawline, anywhere.

Her granddaughter was always incredibly intelligent. A silver tongue, a quiet voice, a sweet smile, and a kind, optimistic view on the world. While they did not always share the same values, Adelle loved her granddaughter far more than politics, and respected her mind. She’d never been given the chance to further her education, a mother at sixteen, but her middle grandchild, she was gifted. 

And she was in danger.

She slumps in her loveseat, frowning softly, her brows pinching with rightful concern.

“Oh, dear. What have you done?”

Chapter Text

Work with Papyrus, though you hadn’t noticed at first, had shifted. No longer were you attending photoshoots with him, but meetings, and his schedule was filled non stop until you had to send a scathing email to Asgore of all people to give Papyrus a fucking break.

You and Asgore, while you would’ve never thought you’d have royal ties, were tight. After.. Sort-of saving his life, and your speech, and being a decorated civilian under Monster standards, Asgore seemed to start considering you as one of his subjects. Which was odd. But, he treated his subjects, all of Monsterkind, as family, and god did you need that. 

So! You are now friends-adjacent with the king. Of Monsters. How odd.

You also think you’re friends with Undyne? She waves vigorously at you everytime you pass her, but you haven't had a chance to talk.

You’d received a sheepish email back in apology, and Papyrus finally got a day off for the first time in two weeks. You hadn’t even been able to talk to him! The entire time was spent frantically chasing him around with his schedule, Ghost energy, and a dream while he tried to make due with being forced to go to meetings thirty minutes away from each other, with only a fifteen minute gap between.

Sans had saved him there, with you meeting him later with your car, since the corvette was recognizable to his brand by now, to bring him back to the office for a twenty minute lunch (including the drive time) before he had another meeting. 

You’d been kept unfortunately in the dark, unallowed entry to said meetings, and Papyrus looked so frazzled and exhausted that you didn’t want to ask. 

But the news was frightening. 

Riemann, a very famous photographer, and the first photographer Papyrus had ever worked with, had been shot and killed through the window of his complex. Another, human, influencer who supported monster rights was also assassinated, causing outrage among both parties’ fans. 

Monsters were being blamed for all three incidents. 

FOX news in particular, who already harbored dislike for monsterkind, was quick to perpetuate the motion. They called Papyrus in for another interview, and fought to keep you from joining him, but Papyrus shut it down. 

“ALL OF YOU HAVE YOUR ASSISTANTS PRESENT IN THE ROOM, I’D LIKE TO HAVE MINE AS WELL! SHE’S AN INCREDIBLE ASSET TO ME AND I WILL NOT SHUT HER OUT WITHOUT REASON.”

It kind of made your heart warm. 

The interview had you hot, and not in a good way. You were almost dizzy with how fucking mad you were, and you were very close to either chucking a granola bar at the hosts head, or doxxing him on Twitter. Again, you recorded everything.

You swore your nails, while lacking paint or tips and sitting at their natural- bitten- length, would tear your skin open if you dug them in any harder, if you had to listen to them drill your friend anymore. 

“So it’s true that intent is what kills monsters?” “PARTIALLY, YES? WE CAN BE KILLED BY OTHER-”

“Then that sniper had to be a monster. Otherwise, since humans don’t have intent to magic or whatever bullets-” 

Papyrus startled, “NO! IT IS STILL UNSURE IF IT WAS HUMAN OR MONSTER, BUT IT ISN’T CONFIRMED!”

“There was no bullet found.”

“POLICE ARE STILL SEARCHING THE GROUNDS-”

“But you agree that it was probably a monster?”

“NO! HOW DOES THIS PERTAIN TO THE ORIGINAL TOPIC?!”

Your teeth ache, and watching Papyrus nervously rub his hands together, then cradle his jaw wasn’t helping. The caster sighed, “Cut to ad break for now.”

You notice the cameras are still rolling and have to fight down your annoyance. Catering brings lunch, human and meat heavy again, though Papyrus is happy with the granola bar you’d brought for him, and your anger grows. You hastily write to both Asgore and Brenda to shut their connection to Fox the fuck down, and Brenda is quick with her approval. 

They announce they’re back on air as everyone in the cast, save Papyrus, receives bottled water. Papyrus glances at you, with your spare bottle in hand (you’d brought it just in case shit like this happened), and smiles softly, gesturing at it. “Can I have-”

You take the hint immediately, stepping up on the stage just out of the camera’s view, to hand it to him. He reaches to grab it so you can stay out of sight, and the host looks both baffled and giddy. “You couldn’t get water yourself?”

Papyrus immediately stills, looking puzzled, “ALL OF YOU JUST HAD CATERING BRING YOU… WHAT?”

The host snickers, “Oh, nothing! I just found it odd that your assistant is forced to do such-”

Papyrus straightens, “MY ASSISTANT ISN’T FORCED TO DO ANYTHING!” He plasters a bright smile that the world may see as real and sweet, but you can see and feel it how it is. He’s.. pissed. You fight a laugh. Huh. He was kind of... hot? 

The man waves him off, “Yes, yes, sure. It just paints a picture! I seems monsters see humans as below them-”

Papyrus opens the bottle, and the crack of the top coming off makes the caser jump. Papyrus just raises a brow and sips it once before responding, “OF COURSE NOT! I DON’T BELIEVE ANYONE IS BELOW ANYONE, IN A METAPHORICAL, OR FIGURATIVE SENSE! I CARE VERY MUCH FOR ALL OF MY STAFF, ESPECIALLY MY ASSISTANT. SHE’S MY FRIEND AND I PAY HER VERY WELL TO WORK FOR ME!”

“So you admit you have to pay her to be friends with you?”

Papyrus startles, “OF COURSE NOT-”

Papyrus had always been one to redirect hatred and anger, never taking it to heart- err, soul– and moving on. You catch an uncharacteristic flash of hurt cross over his face, and you’re done.

The man interrupts Papyrus again, going to a tangent of false facts about ‘so many’ humans dying in protest of monsters, compared to no monster bodies being found, which was ridiculous because monster’s don’t have bodies and you genuinely cannot handle it.

You click the main camera, which you happen to be standing next to, off. “That’s enough. We did not come here to be subjected to your hatred and ignorance. You asked Papyrus to speak from a Monster’s perspective on the current situation in Monster-Human Relations, and you immediately strayed from the topic and began harassment. This is the second time you’ve neglected his presence in terms of catering, and the second time you have shamed him for simply being a Monster. This is not baseball, and there will not be a third.”

Papyrus stares silently at you for a moment before rising from his seat and making his way off stage. You offer him a hand to help him down the harsh drop off so he wouldn’t have to go backstage for the stairs, and he takes it gratefully. 

He follows you silently out of the building, a hand resting on your upper back. 

In the parking lot, your car is easy to locate, and he slumps in the passenger seat, “...THANK YOU.”

You nod to him, clicking your seat belt from the driver’s side, “Of course.”

He straightens, looking surprisingly serious, “NO, REALLY. THANK YOU. NO ONE’S TOLD YOU WHAT GOING ON, AND I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO INFORM YOU EITHER, BUT YOU’VE BEEN FIGHTING FOR ME SINCE DAY ONE, AND I NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I TRULY APPRECIATE IT. THAT I APPRECIATE YOU.”

You nearly startle, gently taking his hand over the center console, “..Of course. We’re friends. And we’re a team. I understand that-”

Papyrus shakes his head, bringing his knees to his chest. Despite his long legs and thin frame, Papyrus looks… small in the position. “YOU.. YOU DON’T. I’M SORRY. I WANTED TO TELL YOU THE MOMENT I KNEW, AND I DON’T CARE IF I’LL GET IN TROUBLE FOR TELLING YOU NOW BECAUSE I THINK IT’S RIDICULOUS TO KEEP SUCH A SECRET FROM YOU OF ALL PEOPLE-”

You blanche, waving your hands, “I don’t want you to get in trouble! I mean, obviously I wouldn’t tell but-”

He clasps your hands gently on his own, “I KNOW. YOU’VE DONE NOTHING BUT PROTECT ME, AND IT’S UNFAIR TO BOTH OF US TO KEEP THIS FROM YOU. I TRUST YOU. I DON’T CARE IF THEY DON’T. THEY SHOULD.”

You swallow, then relax, “..Okay. What’s going on?”

Papyrus softens a little, leaning on the seat and letting his legs slip down. “MY JOB… MY PURPOSE HAS CHANGED. IN THE PAST IT WAS… WELL, FUN. I WAS MEANT TO BE AN EXAMPLE THAT MONSTERS WERE QUITE SIMILAR TO HUMANS! THAT WE ENJOYED SIMILAR THINGS, AND COULD BE INCREDIBLE FRIENDS! AND THAT MONSTERS ARE HAPPIER ON THE SURFACE! I WAS…. I was supposed to be a testament, and a proof that Monsters deserve human rights. Now, I need to prove that we deserve to be alive.” He looks away, “And I know you didn’t sign up for that.”

You lean forward, tapping your shoulder against his. “...Can I tell you a secret?”

He glances back to you, his eyelights a little brighter, “..OF COURSE.”

“I didn’t sign up.. At all? I got this job as an apology for how shitty Claude was.”

Papyrus blinks, then snickers weakly, “THEN YOU REALLY DON’T DESERVE TO BE CAUGHT IN THIS MESS. WHAT DID HE DO?”

You grin, “Okay, this may be breaking my NDA a little-” Papyrus bursts into laughter, waving playfully at you (I THINK I BROKE ONE AS WELL), “but uh. He kept flirting with me. Badly.”

Papyrus scoffs, looking almost offended, “AS IF THAT MAN COULD EVER DESERVE YOU. IF HE CANNOT COME UP WITH AN INSULT BETTER THAN ‘DUST MITE’ IN THE TWO YEARS I’VE HAD THE DISPLEASURE OF COMING INTO HIS PRESENCE, I DOUBT HIS WORDS COULD SWAY OR WOO A WOMAN. ESPECIALLY NOT YOU.”

You can’t help but blush, laughing and leaning against him, “You know, I think that’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say!” 

Papyrus’ skull lights up into an embarrassed pinkish-orange, and you fall into giggles again, “But thank you. The flirting wasn’t the uh.. The problem though. He was sexually harassing me, I guess. It got bad enough that I complained but….”

—-----

She quietly tells him how HR didn’t care, but Papyrus stills at the term ‘sexual harassment.’ 

“FORGIVE ME, DEAR, BUT CAN WE GO BACK? HE DID.. WHAT?”

She blinks, “Oh. Do you know what that term means?”

He does. But he wants to be very sure before he goes what humans call, ‘ape shit.’ “YES, BUT I WOULD LIKE YOU TO EXPLAIN IT IN TERMS OF YOUR EXPERIENCE.”

She doesn’t seem put off, still leaning into his side, ever… affectionate with him, “Oh it wasn’t… It wasn’t too serious. Just odd comments, questions. I just got uncomfortable sometimes..?”

Papyrus deems her comfort incredibly important. “IF YOU DON’T MIND… CAN YOU..? WHAT DID HE SAY? ASK?”

She shrugs, “Just… weird stuff? Like if I’d sit on his lap, or some… uh… weird comments about my body. Or questions about my sex life and my body.”

Papyrus nods, “...THAT’S SICK.”

More like it’s making him sick.

She grins wryly, “It’s alright. I uh… I’m kind of used to it. A lot of women have to be. It’s how we’re raised, you know?”

“I ABSOLUTELY DON'T KNOW, AND THAT SOUND’S DERANGED TO ME. YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE TO BE ‘USED’ TO A MAN'S LUSTFUL COMMENT TOWARDS YOU, ESPECIALLY NOT IF YOU TOLD HIM TO STOP. HUMAN GENDER CUSTOMS ARE NOT AT ALL LIKE MONSTER KINDS.”

He hates to be harsh, and he’s terrified to come across that way, but the skeleton is genuinely shell shocked. What the actual fuck. “AND YOU SAID THERE WAS MORE?”

She blinked again, “Oh.. Uh. Yeah, sorry-” 

“PLEASE DO NOT APOLOGIZE. I’M SORRY. I’M A LITTLE… OUT OF IT, AT THE MOMENT.”

And he is. He’s genuinely dizzy with–

Oh. He’s pissed because she was hurt, and she’s pissed from earlier. They’re both upset and the strength is making him dizzy. He forces himself to calm down, “SORRY.”

She shakes her head, digging in her back and offering him another granola bar. He takes it, thanking her quietly, “Don’t… You shouldn’t apologize either. What just happened to you is comparable to a hate crime. You’re allowed to be upset, Papyrus.”

He laughs weakly, taking a bite of the granola. “I’M MORE PISSED ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU. PLEASE, CONTINUE.”

She winces, smiling, “You’re about to be more pissed.”

He snorts a laugh and gestures for her to keep going as he eats. “Okay, so, HR didn’t care because I didn’t have proof that wasn’t their cameras that they have access to, so they just deleted the footage and told me to go fuck myself, which. Which Claude would’ve loved , specifically on camera-” Papyrus genuinely chokes, swallowing hard and taking a sip of water, “- but it kept going for months until I caught him groping me on my phone’s camera, perfect shot, and threatened to sue.”

Papyrus stiffens, “WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO GROPE SOMEONE?”

She tilted her head, “It basically means to grab and like… fondle someone without their consent?”

Cold, sick fear races down his spine, “I HAVEN’T MADE YOU FEEL THAT WAY, HAVE I?”

She blinks, smiling, “What? Of course not. He would fully grab my ass or my tits in broad daylight. You holding my hand or having a hand on my shoulder or side is- That’s comforting. Or, I find it comforting. You’ve never made me feel uncomfortable, Paps.”

He sighs softly, slumping against her in relief, “ALAS, I WOULD DUST ON THE SPOT BEFORE MAKING YOU FEEL SUCH A WAY!”

—-------

You snicker at his dramatics, swatting at his ribs, “Shut.” You smile, but it falls, “I made this about me. Are you okay? What happened in there-”

Papyrus smiles, waving you off, “A WELCOME DISTRACTION DEAR. I DEFINITELY DON’T WANT TO THROTTLE CLAUDE…. AT ALL.” His smile is innocent as can be, and you fall into snickers, “BUT SERIOUSLY, I’M JUST FINE. YOU HANDLED IT VERY WELL. AND YOU HANDLED YOUR PREVIOUS SITUATION VERY WELL. I’M SORRY IT HAD TO GO TO SUCH EXTREMES FOR YOU TO GET ANY REPAYMENT. I AM… I AM GLAD TO HAVE YOU ON MY TEAM INSTEAD THOUGH. I’M JUST SORRY THAT EXPECTATIONS AND THE TIME SPENT HAS… CHANGED.”

You shake your head, “Don’t apologize. I’m… I’m really happy to be here. And whatever’s changed, I’m still here for you. We’re a team.”

Papyrus, slips an arm around your shoulders and hugs you gently, leaning his cheek against yours. “Thank you. Please… Please know that I am here for you as well. You are much more than just my assistant, dear. You’ve quickly become my best friend.”

You could cry. 

You smile instead. “You’re my best friend too.”

—-------------------

A small alligator floats lazily on the surface of the water, silently eying the frogs sharing the aquarium tank. 

A sharp tap on the glass alerts it to some raw meat being tossed into the water, and the frogs live another day.

A scoff rings out from above, “Did you see the monster fucker on the news?”

The man feeding the alligator paused, unhappy with the term, “...Yeah. Not my part of business though. I like to stay out of politics. “

“She’s fucking up my business though.”

He scoffs, flicking the last bit of meat in the tank before clicking the aquarium lid back on. “I don’t see how.”

“She’s talking peace n’ shit, and I'm a hitman. Fuck do you mean?”

Chapter Text

You grin, large bag in hand as you lightly kick open the door to Papyrus’ dressing room, singing along to Barbie’s “Life In The DreamHouse” jingle. 

Papyrus peaks an eye light at you from where he’s laying on the couch, and you nudge the door closed with your foot. “Good morning! I just got out of a meeting!”

Papyrus sits up, unable to tamp down his smile, “YOUR MEETING ENDED THIRTY MINUTES AGO.”

You blush, swinging your arms behind your back. “I! Had a side quest!”

You hear Papyrus snicker at your word choice, quietly repeating it as you set the bag down before plopping on the floor below him. He shifts to lay on his side, watching you with a smile, “YOU’RE CHEER-Y! DID YOU HAVE COFFEE?”

You shake your head and cross your legs, “Nope!”

The skeleton nods sagely, “YOU’VE BEEN LISTENING TO MUSIC ALL DAY.”

“You know me too well.” You don’t even try to fight your grin. It felt so good to be known. “Now what’s up with you? You never rest when I tell you to!”

Papyrus slumps dramatically back into the couch, “I HAVE A MEETING, AND OUTING WITH THE PRESIDENT. IT’S A YEARLY THING.”

You blink, “I know! Is that bad?”

Papyrus shakes his head, and you lean on the couch near him to see his expression, “NO, OF COURSE NOT… JUST THE PREP! I HAVE TO BE FITTED- OR, THEY HAVE MOST OF MY MEASUREMENTS ALREADY, ACTUALLY- FOR A NEW SUIT AND I DIDN’T PARTICULARLY LIKE THE LAST ONE!”

“You didn’t like them?” You tilt your head, poking his cheek lightly until he couldn’t help but smile, “What was wrong?”

He sits up, swinging his legs over and slipping to join you on the floor, “I DON’T GET TO PICK ANYTHING ABOUT THE SUIT, AND I HAVE TO WEAR SAID SUIT MANY TIMES AROUND THE YEAR! I GOT TO PICK MY FIRST ONE, THE BLUE SUIT YOU SAW, BUT THE ONE AFTER WAS QUESTIONABLE!”

You straighten, genuinely confused, “Papyrus, your assistants were supposed to let you decide. You were supposed to pick.”

He pauses, looking at you, “…SERIOUSLY?”

You nod, “Seriously.”

“…SO I WORE ORANGE VELVET FOR NOTHING?”

“Oh, that’s fucking ridiculous.”

—————

Papyrus groans, dragging his hand over his face, “TELL ME ABOUT IT! THE TEXTURE-“ He shivers at the thought, “IT WAS HIGHLY UNPLEASANT!”

She nods vigorously, “I hate velvet textures too. Are you texture sensitive?”

He perks a little, “WHAT’S THAT?”

She gestures lightly at his clothes, “It’s basically when certain textures bother you. I can’t eat certain foods because of it and I won’t use certain art supplies because of it.”

Papyrus sits up immediately, “WAIT THAT’S NORMAL? LIKE… OTHER PEOPLE FEEL LIKE THAT?”

She tilted her head a little, “..Of course? It’s a very common sign of autism actually. It applies to sound and sight too. That's why I keep the lights in my office off. It’s not exactly normal, but it’s not uncommon, or weird. It's just something we have to deal with.”

Papyrus stares at her, silently taken aback by her acceptance. This was… simple, for her. It just happened. It didn’t make her insufferable or annoying. It was just something she acknowledged, and moved on from. “..BUT IT’S NORMAL TO YOU?”

She nodded, “My cousin’s autistic, and it runs pretty heavy in my family, I think? My dad’s side was a little more accepting of it… at least with the men, but when it came to me, it was treated as a bad thing. But it’s… not. It’s not a good thing either, but it’s not like I’m broken. I just have different limits.”

Papyrus’ brow furrowed, “Your existence should not be viewed as lesser due to your gender.”

She paused, before quietly sitting next to him, “I’m not entirely sure it was because I’m a girl. It was more that perfection was expected of me.”

“THAT’S… That’s not fair. Your parents should have supported you without conditions. Like Sans did.”

She smiled a little, “You know, Sans is growing on me. I’m really glad you had someone like him looking out for you growing up.”

Papyrus notices her change of topic and goes with it, fiddling with his fingers, “NOT JUST GROWING UP. HE STILL LOOKS OUT FOR ME.”

“Even better.” She offers him a soft smile, and his soul flutters pathetically against the back of his sternum. “You have at least two people looking out for you now.”

Papyrus softens, tapping his gloved hand against the back of hers, his voice at normal volume, but gentle with fondness, “A TEAM. THANK YOU, DEAR.” 

She grins, “Speaking of! Or not really, but I do need to let you see this- You will be deciding your suit this year! Just like you should’ve last year! That assistant can go fuck themselves for putting you in velvet actually.”

He snorts, “DREADFUL CHOICE OF CLOTHING, REALLY!”

Under her breath she scoffs, “ Choice-” and Papyrus realizes she’s angry he was denied it in the first place. Huh. 

She leans down and drags the plastic bag up, waving it ‘temptingly,’ “Anyway! I got the fabric samples offered, so you can look and feel them without having to guess if you like it or not!”

Papyrus is once again struck by her kindness. He’s so lucky to have such a thoughtful soulmate. “...THANK YOU.”

Her smile is bright and his soul warms. He can feel her affection through the bond, and he feels peace. His soulmate likes him. Even if it’s platonic and she has no idea she’s his soulmate, it means something to him. She harbors some level of fondness for him, enough to protect and support him.

He knows he will do the same for her when the time comes.

—-------------------

Sans taps lightly at the bartop with a gloved hand, leaning on his other palm. Grillby is quietly cleaning the tables behind him after closing. The door is locked, and they’re alone. 

Grillby hums quietly, lifting the chairs to the normal tables up in order to mop the floors later. “....You’re awfully quiet, Sans.”

Sans glances up from the bartop to look at Grillby, who’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he lifts the wooden chairs to rest on the tabletops. “sorry. just bone tired.” 

The skeleton offers weak finger guns, but Grillby can see the exhaustion in his frame. He abandons the chairs, approaching the smaller in a few long strides. “You used that one already, dear.”

Sans blushes, looking away as Grillby sidles next to him sliding an arm around Sans’ shoulders and leaning against the bar. “oops. guess i’m kind of a numb-skull.”

Grillby shakes his head, leaning to nuzzle Sans’ temple, the fire monster version of a kiss. Skeletons, quite obviously, share the same tradition. Sans tilts his head into the pressure, relaxing a little into the monster’s offered warmth, “You’re incredibly smart, Sans. The most intelligent monster I’ve ever met, certainly.”

Sans thinks of Gaster for a moment before huffing, “nah. just-”

Grillby pokes him in the ribs, “If you say something self deprecating, then ‘no bones about it’ I will burn you.”

Sans snickers, “you know me too well.” Far too well. It’s enough to make him think about the gloves.

Grillby nuzzles, then kisses his cheek, “Of course.”

The skeleton shifts to accept his touch, resting his head on Grillby’s shoulder. “i’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Grillby knows immediately what this is about, “If you are not ready, I will not pressure you. You’re still very young, Sans. We have much time together, if you so wish. We can take this slow.”

Sans presses his brow to the monster’s throat, “i just… paps-”

Grillby squeezes him tighter, “Papyrus’ soulmate doesn’t know.”

He shakes his head, “not that. i just… he’s only twenty five.”

Grillby chuckled, “And so is she. You are what, thirty four? You’re allowed to take your time. And Papyrus initiated the bond accidentally.”

Sans groans, “i know. and i really am sorry.”

The fire monster sighs, pressing a kiss to his cheek again, “There is no reason to feel guilt, my love. I would wait centuries for you. And even if we’re not soulmates, I wouldn’t care. As long as you’ll have me, I am yours.”

—-----------

Papyrus slipped his gloves off to feel the small squares of fabric, rubbing them gently between his phalanges while his assistant held other squares to his face and squinting. They slowly build three piles, one that’s an absolute no- bad texture or ugly color-, one that’s okay, and one that he really likes. 

Papyrus learns his assistant likes pinstripes, and he giggles helplessly at her expression as he tells her that only monster children wear stripes.  

“Wait! That’s actually so smart! Monster age differently so-”

Papyrus grins and nods, “WE WEAR STRIPES AS CHILDREN TO MAKE IT CLEAR WHO IS A CHILD AND WHO IS FULLY MATURE.”

She waved her hands, “Wait- Okay- So you all age differently, how do you guys determine maturity?”

Papyrus waves his hand in a so-so motion, “IT DEPENDS ON THE SUBSPECIES! SKELETONS DON’T REALLY HAVE A TELL, SO WE WENT WITH THE HUMAN’S EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD THING! ONLY SANS WOULD NEVER KICK ME OUT! HUMANS ARE KIND OF CRAZY WITH THAT!”

She takes no offense, “It’s not all humans, it’s actually an American thing! I got kicked out at fifteen, but my Mimi took me in until my mom took me back.”

Papyrus finds that his soulmate is very good at dropping batshit insane lore and moving on as if her pain did and does not matter. He didn’t like how much it reminded him of Sans. Now Papyrus has two idiots soul bonded. Papyrus cannot comprehend how either of them can view their feeling and pain as unimportant. Can’t they see how important they are to him?

Papyrus does not know what he can say without setting himself on a tangent on how she deserves more, so he settles for: “I’M GROWING A DISLIKE FOR YOUR MOTHER, I FEAR.” 

She laughs, covering her mouth, “You’re not the first. I love her though.”

Papyrus nods, “OF COURSE YOU DO. WE ARE ALIKE IN BEING TOO FORGIVING AND KIND TO THOSE THAT BRING US HARM.”

Her face goes a little red, and she picks at a light pink square of fabric, 50% cotton and 50% wool, one of her favorites of the bunch, “I guess that makes us the doormat squad?”

Papyrus snickers, nudging her arm, “OF COURSE NOT. WE PROTECT EACH OTHER FINE, WE ONLY STRUGGLE WITH PROTECTING OURSELVES. THAT JUST MAKES US A TEAM AGAIN.”

She looks up, studying him for a moment, then smiles, “I’m pretty alright with that.”

Papyrus knows he’ll be alright with anything that makes her happy.


Fuck. He’s so down-bad. Sans is going to tease him forever.

Whatever. He can tease Sans for slow-burning himself with Grillby. They met when they were Nineteen and… however old Grillby is, and Sans still hadn’t taken the gloves off, the little menace.

She tosses their four favorite swatches, “Why don’t you do multiple? One suit a year is kind of bullshit.”

—----------

Papyrus blinks blankly at you for a moment as if recalling at he is not just famous, but rich as fuck. “...OH. YOU’RE RIGHT! I’M JUST USED TO ONLY HAVING ONE OUTFIT, SO HAVING SO MUCH CLOTHES… ODD? I GUESS?”

You straighten, brow furrowing a little, and you dislike how well Papyrus reads your emotions. Well, not really, but he can just sense your concern, you swear. And he uses that to change the subject away from his problems. “You only had one outfit?”

Papyrus blushes orange-pink, “WE WERE UH. We were quite poor Underground. BUT WE’RE VERY WELL OFF NOW!”

You pause for a moment, then nod, “Okay. I bet it’s really weird to get used to.”

The skeleton smiles softly, “YES. BUT! I DO LIKE THE IDEA OF MULTIPLE SUITS! ONE FOR EACH SEASON, NO? WEATHER ON THE SURFACE IS ODD.”

Oh! That was a good idea! “Well, the pink one and the purple one are fifty-percent wool, so they’re a little thicker, but the pink isn’t exactly a winter or fall color. That doesn’t exactly matter, though, it’s more if you like it.”

He nods, scratching lightly at the fabric, “I’M QUITE USED TO THE COLD, AND SKELETONS DON’T REALLY GET HOT, SO THAT NOT MUCH OF ANY ISSUE FOR ME! I DO LIKE THESE FOUR THOUGH!”

The four he’d picked were red, pink, blue, and purple, which surprised you. “Hey, why purple? Not that it would look bad or anything.”

He pauses for a moment, then smiles, “IT JUST REMINDS ME OF SOMETHING. ANYWAY, AREN’T ORANGE AND PURPLE HALLOWEEN COLORS?”

You hum, nodding, “It is almost October. Do you have an idea for a costume?”

Papyrus lights up, grinning, “I WOULD LIKE TO BE A SUGAR SKULL AGAIN! I DID IT ON MY FIRST YEAR ON THE SURFACE AND IT WAS VERY FUN!! AND I KNOW YOU’LL DO INCREDIBLE WITH THE MAKE UP!”

You can’t help but grin. You kind of would love painting the sugar skull patterns on him. “What did you do last year?”

He rolls his eye lights, “I DIDN’T GET TO DRESS UP! MY THEN ASSISTANT DECIDED TO NOT TELL ME WHAT COSTUME I WOULD BE RECEIVING, AND TRIED TO GET ME TO DRESS AS A MAGE SPECIFICALLY.”

You blink, recalling the many years you’d dressed as a witch for Halloween. Cute, easy, reusable, and sexy. Your perfect costume, really. “What’s… sorry, I feel like I’m missing something.”

Papyrus’ brows furrow a little in confusion, before he snorts, “AH. I FORGET IT’S NOT COMMON INFORMATION. YOUR GOVERNMENT TRIES TO KEEP IT ON THE DOWN-LOW, BUT MONSTERS ARE NOT FORBIDDEN FROM TELLING ANYONE WHO ASKS! MAGES SEALED MONSTERS UNDERGROUND.”

You sit for a moment, confused as hell, before it clicks, “That bitch tried to dress you as your captors??”

The skeleton somehow snorts, leaning back on the couch, “YOU KNOW, SANS SAID THE SAME THING.”

You nudge him, “We’re right. Fuck them. I’ll paint you as a sugar skull.”

—---------------------

Carolyn taps her fingernails against her glass, staring at the news broadcast. The FOX newscaster was interviewing a monster of all things, but she was surprised to find she recognized it. It wasn’t until they brought the feed after the funeral that she realized where she recognized him from. That feed had haunted her dreams.

How could she? 

All Carolyn did for that girl, helping her fake her death for fucks sake, just for her to turn and broadcast herself on world television with monsters.

…

Her daughter had always been creative. 

She regrets it daily the fact that she talked her out of being a teacher. Maybe then, she wouldn’t be in this mess.

—-------------------------

Grillby sat on the roof with his lover, staring up at the stars. Sans smiles, squinting and pointing to small star clusters and huge, overarching constellations stretched over their heads.

Grillby finds the stars remind him of Sans’ eyelights. He finds them quite breathtaking.

Sans leans against Grillby’s chest to point out another shape, and Grillby cannot help slipping an arm around the smaller to keep him close. He doesn’t notice Sans has taken his gloves off, the skeleton smiling softly but not daring to touch, yet.

He doesn’t notice the dust in the alley below them.

Chapter Text

Heels click harshly against the floor, your stride matching the beat of the song stuck in your head. The aggressiveness fits your mood quite well, with how pissed you are. 

Fox actually aired the interview. Not only did they air it, but they edited it, making Papyrus look flat out monster-phobic towards himself at worst and generally unintelligent at best. The email you’d sent to their supervisors, as well as their shareholders, could’ve had an amber alert attached. 

You were thankful that the King and Brenda did their jobs in terms of damage control, using your recording as proof of edits as well as the host’s general disrespect. 

You drink your Celcius like a shot, glad you’d found another energy drink brand that worked for you. You liked them fine, but didn’t care for this flavor. 

Sigh.

…

Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking this on an empty stomach. 

You could shoot something. 

You don’t.

You slump into your desk with a huff, pulling up twitter to check the damage. 

You can breathe a little easier when you see ‘foxisoverparty’ trending, as silly as the hashtag was.

Blinking at the screen, you find someone is following you.

Your account, you felt at least, was pretty secret, but you had a feeling your one and only follower was able to guess pretty easily.

@CoolSkeleton95 is following you

There’s only one skeleton you know that is both cool and was born in 1995. You can’t help but snicker, following him back.

—--------------------

Papyrus sits up from where he’s laying on his dressing room couch. He stares at his phone, silently glaring at it for a moment before sighing and opening it. He wasn’t in a great mood after the absolute… 

He huffs again.

He will not be negative when he can already feel how pissed his soulmate is across the hall. His soul does flutter a little at the feeling.

Papyrus tries not to pout as he scrolls through thousands of notifications on his main account, some supportive, some he has to block, some already blocked because of slur-use, before silently logging out of Twitter.

As he is on the menu, he sees a notification from his private account. The one that he just follows Sans, Undyne, and Grillby’s accounts on. Oh, and his soulmate.

@Cherr96omb followed you back

He snickers softly. 

SUBTLE, DEAREST. VERY SUBTLE.

Speaking of subtleness, Brenda’s voice is not. At all. Papyrus sits up, blankly staring at the wall where their rooms connect. 

“This is entirely unprofessional, disrespectful, and monster phobic. I hope you know that the king and queen have been informed, and you will be lucky if the government does not shut this shit down.”

Hooooly shit.

Papyrus leaps to his feet, opening and closing his door as quietly as possible before scurrying to his assistant's office, a wild grin on his face.

———————-

It’s the first time you’ve ever been put into a good mood via Twitter, so you close out the app so as to not ruin it. It’s only been a little over three weeks since the funeral, and you’re not sure you’ve fully processed it, let alone had the energy to see people posting about it.

And you.

The masses had your false name now. Which. Was kind of scary. You really and truly did not need to be found now of all times.

A knock at your door keeps you from scratching the tattoo again.

“Come in!”

A gloved hand opens the door, Papyrus peeking in. 

You can’t help but smile, “Why are we lurking?”

He puts a finger to his teeth, silently shushing you, before whispering loudly, “BRENDA IS ON THE PHONE WITH FOX!”

You listen, and faintly hear his manager yelling three rooms down. You snicker and get up, “Are we being nosey?”

Papyrus tilts his head, “I DO NOT HAVE A NOSE! BUT SURE!”

You grab your drink, skirting your desk to meet him at the door. He takes your hand like the gentleman he is, and the two of you giggle like children, pressing your ears and his lack-there-of to the door to hear her better.

Brenda argues more, short pauses between bursts in which she’s probably letting whoever she’s screaming at speak, before she tears right back into them.

Papyrus leans against the door, chest heaving with silent laughter at the creative insults his manager has come up with, and you’re privately delighted to see him laugh.

He’s…. Kind of adorable?

Oh.

Oh. 

Fuck.

No.

You are not doing this.

You take a deep breath, leaning against the door and ignoring it. You barely notice the phone call ending, before the door is flung open.

Papyrus’ reflexes are insane, and he somehow catches you, tugging you effortlessly upright against his side and flashing his manager a blinding smile. “MS BRENDA! HOW IS YOUR DAY?”

You’re playing it cool? He’s playing it cool. Very cool. You’re still reeling about how easily he lifted your weight. 

Play it cool.

Brenda raises a brow at the two of you, her curly hair pulled into a tight bun. “What did you need?”

Papyrus visibly blanks and you realize this man doesn’t like lying, or isn’t very good at lying on the spot.

You don’t laugh. Nuh uh.

“I just wanted to check in with you about the schedule and see when you thought we should have our lunch break?”

Brenda seems to snap out of her aggravation, “Oh. Of course, dear.” She waves the two of you inside, checks the schedule and hums, “Probably take your lunch around two.”

You nod and subtly drag Papyrus out of the room, hiding a smile behind your hair. You’re so glad you left it down today. 

The moment you get out the door, Papyrus shuts it and you both break into laughter. 

He leans back against the wall and snickers helplessly, “YOU ARE A BAD INFLUENCE, CHERRY-BOMB.”

You swat at his arm gently, blushing, “That was your idea! And I don’t want to hear it from Cool Skeleton Ninety-Five!”

He laughs softly, covering his mouth while you grin and shake your head. You pull out your phone to check the time and roll your eyes, “We’re going to be late to your meeting with ABC.”

Papyrus sighs and straightens, “WE SHOULD GET TO THAT, I SUPPOSE.”

You nudge him in the ribs and he jolts away, laughing, “ALRIGHT!!”

You gasp playfully, “Papyrus are you ticklish?”

His sockets go wide but his grin is delighted, “NO! NOT AT ALL!”

You take a step towards him and he darts into the dressing room. 

You can hear him laughing behind the wall. You walk back to your office, chuckling at the idea of ticklish skeletons. Monsters are so cool.

—------------------------------

The ABC news interview went fine. Papyrus was visibly nervous walking in, but seemed to relax after holding your hand for a while, which.

Papyrus really needs to stop being adorable. Bad. 

And you need to stop being attracted to your boss you fucking weirdo.

You playfullying swing your connected hands between your sides, to watch Papyrus smile through his nerves, and you can’t help but soften. It.. it kind of makes sense that you’d crush on him. Everyone crushes on him. He’s famous! 

You’ll be gentle with yourself at least. You know you’ve had a lot of shit happen to you, and one of those traumas was most likely the cause of this. The need for validation of someone important to you, older than you, and an authority member? He’s your boss, but he doesn’t really act like it, so probably not that last one. Not to mention you were the same age and he’s technically ‘younger’ than you in the sense that he would live to three hundred. Monsters are so cool. 

Eh. You take a deep breath and accept it. At least you’d never have to worry about rejection, since there was no fucking way your were asking your boss out. And he’s a.. A really good friend. So. You don’t want to ruin that.

Hard pass. 

The meeting goes well, and he’s officially scheduled for an interview in the coming week. They’re explicit that he’ll be catered to with monster food, and apologize on behalf of the other new station’s rudeness. 

Something about them disgracing the craft. 

“Really, it’s insane!” 

You don’t really care, you’re just glad Papyrus will be taken care of.

Papyrus nods along, “IT HAPPENS! YOU HAVE NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE! MY ASSISTANT HERE HANDLED IT BEAUTIFULLY.”

The host blinked, turning her attention to you, “Oh! You must be the elusive Blue Beauty! You really are gorgeous, darling. Would you join him in the interview?”

You blush badly, “Is.. I’m not sure that would be appropriate. We’ll discuss it with our manager and the King.”

She waves you off gently, “How old are you?”

Papyrus responds a little faster than you, and your blush deepens, “TWENTY FOUR!”

“Twenty five?”

He startles, turning to you, looking nearly devastated, “WE MISSED YOUR BIRTHDAY?”

You laugh softly, “I don’t really celebrate it.”

He pouts, “NEITHER DOES SANS, BUT I CAN ATLEAST GET HIM A CAKE!! AND NEW SOCKS!!”

You snort. Cake and new socks sounds like the exact kind of gift Sans would want. “It’s fine!”

The host giggles at the interaction, “Oh, your two are adorable. I’ll see you both soon! I do have another meeting though.”

You nod curtly and Papyrus follows close behind as you exit her office, “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF CAKE?”

You laugh, “Papyrus, you’re not buying me a cake.”

“YOU’RE RIGHT! I’M MAKING YOU A CAKE. NOW WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE OR I’M STALKING YOUR SOCIALS.”

The mental image of Papyrus hunched over his phone, scouring though your non-existent socials is so fucking funny but you don’t break, “Papyrus I don’t have my favorite color posted, you’re not going to find anything.”

He groans loudly and leans on you, making you stumble with a snicker, “THEN I WILL MAKE EVERY TYPE OF CAKE. DON’T TEST ME, I WILL.”

… 

Yeah.

You believe him. 

With a playfully defeated sigh, you tell him your favorite cake flavor, and he whoops with victory jostling you in a hug. 

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

—--------------------

Papyrus is so soft on her. Sigh.

He is tired, though.

 He’s not usually one to need, or even want, to sleep, but he’s exhausted. Walking around and talking to people normally replenished his energy, but he only feels more overstimulated after the meeting, instinctively holding his assistants hand as they walk out. She squeezes his hand gently as if sensing the slight change in mood, looking up to him as they leave the building, “You okay?”

He smiles weakly, “JUST FINE. ONLY A LITTLE TIRED, CHERRY.”

She snorts, but doesn’t seem offended. “Is that my nickname now?” He nods immediately, and she laughs, offering him her nearly full energy drink, “I have this if you’d like it? It’s fine, but I don’t like that particular flavor.”

He blinks, not sure how food and drink sharing works in human culture, “ARE YOU SURE?”

She nods, “Of course!”

She doesn’t seem to be flirting with him like the action suggests in monster culture, so Papyrus lets out a playful, “NYEH-HEH-HEH, OF COURSE, SHE SAYS.” to tease her.

Cherry immediately tries to tickle him again in response and he shrieks, dodging her fingers and darting to the car as she wheezes behind him.

He drinks the Celscius quietly while she drives his car, watching her hands just in case. Papyrus had learned the hard way in childhood that he’s extremely ticklish, because it was the way Sans would get him to laugh at his jokes when he fakes a straight face. 

He also happens to know that he usually swings on people who tickle him, Undyne for example, though Cherry and Sans get a pass.

Mostly.

Papyrus will wrestle her if needed. Giggling the whole time, but still.

He leans against the seat, “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?”

She laughs softly, but her eyes don’t leave the road. “Are you interrogating me right now?”

He grins brightly, “YES!”

Cherry smirks, “And.. why are you interrogating me?”

Papyrus pouts playfully, “BECAUSE I MISSED YOUR BIRTHDAY AND TWENTY FIVE IS  A MILESTONE BIRTHDAY!”

She blinks, glancing at him, “A milestone birthday? Humans have something similar, I think?”

Papyrus nods, excited that he actually knows what she’s talking about, “HUMANS HAVE SWEET SIXTEENS, YES! MONSTERS CELEBRATE MILESTONES ACCORDING TO THEIR LIFESPANS. WE DON’T KNOW OURS, BUT TWENTY FIVE IS THE AGE MOST MONSTERS ARE FULLY DEVELOPED, SO THAT’S WHAT ME AND SANS WENT WITH!”

She hums, “So like our eighteen? Or is it more similar to our twenty fifth?”

Papyrus gasps, brows furrowing, “TWENTY FIVE IS A MILESTONE FOR HUMANS?!”

Cherry laughs, shaking her head, “No! Well, it’s not celebrated as one, but a discovery was made popular recently that humans’ brains fully develop at twenty five. We’re considered mature around eighteen.”

Papyrus thinks for a moment, considering, “I THINK OUR TWENTY FIVE’S ARE THE SAME THEN, YES. I STOPPED GETTING TALLER AT EIGHTEEN. IS THAT HOW IT WORKS FOR HUMANS?”

She stops at a red light and nods, “Women stop growing sooner on average, but just about, yeah.”

He tilts his head, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

“Oh, human women mature faster than men. That’s just how the human body works,” She shrugs lightly, glancing up to the red light to check on it again before smiling, “I stopped getting taller around sixteen.”

Papyrus blinks, “THAT IS SO ODD.”

She laughs, “No, you guys are the odd ones! Animals work like that too!”

Papyrus shakes his head, “I’M TRYING TO FIGURE OUT IF THAT MAKES YOU TECHNICALLY OLDER THAN ME OR NOT.”

She almost startles, “I was wondering the exact same thing earlier!”

Papyrus chuckles softly, looking out the window and trying not to blush. It was a common soulmate thing, but the confirmation of the connection was enough to make his soul flutter. “WHAT A.. COINCIDENCE, HAHA!”

She snorts, “You’re older than me in years, but I may have matured first, depending.”

Papyrus hums, now genuinely curious, “MOST LIKELY! BY MONSTER STANDARDS I WAS FULLY, WELL,.. MATURE BY AROUND SEVENTEEN OR EIGHTEEN. THOUGH SKELETON HAVE VERY FEW TELLS IN TERMS OF SEXUAL MATURITY.” Well. The ability to form ecto-genitalia was a pretty obvious tell, but he wasn’t going to check with his brother in the house. And he wasn’t lying about the very-few-tells part, considering ecto formation and a slight change in magic were the only tells. 

She blinks, before snickering, “Did you get a boner, Papyrus?”

He deadpans. She’s right of course, but the pun. Bad soulmate. You don’t get to be funny. “YOU DID NOT JUST MAKE A PUN.”

She grins as he hides his reluctant smile behind his gloved hand, “My apologies.” She doesn’t sound all that sorry. “I was ‘sexually mature,’ as you say-” He cannot help but snort, realizing he’s teaching and receiving sex education to and from his assistant and soulmate, “-when I was eleven.”

—----------------------

You were already on the verge of losing it just hearing Papyrus say the word sex, but his face after you told him when you first got your period was enough. You cackle at his vague horror, turning into the office parking lot as he mentally comes to terms with the information he’s just received.


“WHAT?!”

—----------------------

Papyrus bombards you with questions, and you’re delighted to teach him about periods and puberty just to see his hopelessly scandalized expressions, pissing yourself laughing all the while. 

You follow him to his dressing room, thanking catering for their delivery of Subway. He takes a large bite of his meatball sub- Monster food ‘water sausages’ replacing the meat- before shooting you a curious look, “WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE?? CAN YOU FEEL- ACTUALLY NO THAT’S GROSS.”

You almost choke on your food, “I get like, cramps? Sometimes? That’s all.”

“IT HURTS YOU?!”

You laugh so hard you wheeze again, clutching your stomach and bending over. 

—----------------------

After both of you have finished your food, Papyrus begins to look at his clothing rack for an outfit. “I HAVE A MEETING WITH METTATON IN ABOUT THREE HOURS, AS YOU KNOW! HE TOLD ME TO WEAR SOMETHING COLORFUL, CAN YOU HELP ME?”

You shift to your feet, “You’re wearing the boots, for sure… Let’s find something that matches it.”

You feel something flutter in your chest saying it, faint and distant, but the soft look on Papyrus' face erases the thought from your head. You smile back at him before turning back to the clothes, “Jeans, maybe? You have those cute ones with the stars, right? With a blue- no not blue, sorry, you’re going to look like an American flag-” He laughs behind you, leaning over your shoulder to point out a white turtleneck tank top.

You nod approvingly, “Pair it with a colorful jacket and we’re back in business.”

He hums, rubbing the shirt between two fingers, “I THINK I HAVE ONE IN THE CLOSET OVER THERE?”

You nod, walking into the closet and silently looking at the selection of jackets, actually delighted to see he had one of Game Theory’s FNAF Lettermans, “Hey, Paps, you know Five Nights at Freddy’s?!”

“YEAH! OH! DID YOU FIND THE JACKET?! THAT ONE’S ONE OF MY FAVORITES!”

You nod to yourself, feeling the weight and texture of the jacket for a moment, “Yeah, it’s nice!” You turn to the door, about to grab it and leave, when you bump Papyrus. Holy shit, you hadn’t even heard him walk over. 

You stumble and he catches you, but he loses his balance in the process, a foot slipping back to stabilize both of you. He quickly reaches behind him to slam the door shut just before his back lands firmly against it, with you propped against his chest. 

His skull is glowing bright orange, sockets wide and eyelights reduced to pinpricks, “SORRY!! I’M SORRY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

You blush, realize you’re half pinning him to the door with your arms braced around his ribs, and back up, “Sorry!! I’m fine! Are you??”

He nods, his magic the only light in the room now that the door is closed. He blushes a little harder, “I’M SO SORRY! I DON’T MEAN TO KEEP DOING THAT!”

You laugh softly, “It’s fine! Did I hurt you?”

Papyrus shakes his head immediately, “I’M PERFECTLY ALRIGHT!” He squeezes your hand gently, before shaking his head to clear it. He turns and tries to open the door… but it doesn’t budge.

You stare wide eyed as he tries again, and again, before slamming his shoulder against it. 

“WELL. THAT’S… UNFORTUNATE.”

You swallow, brows furrowed, “Uh… yeah.”

It sure is, considering you’re claustrophobic as shit. 

—---------------------------

Papyrus feels her fear spike, and immediately turns to face her. “CHERRY? ARE YOU- WHAT’S WRONG?”

She slinks into the back corner, sliding down the wall and curling up, “The.. The doors’ stuck?”

He frowns, trying it again, “P-PRETTY STUCK, YES. ARE YOU OKAY?”

She hesitates, then shakes her head, “Sorry. I’m… I’m a little uh… claustrophobic. It’s..”

Papyrus abandons the door to sit next to her, a hand resting on her back, “Yes?”

She leans into him a little, and his soul flutters traitorously at the touch, “It’s the fear of small spaces. But it’s uh.. It is not so much the small space that bothers me, but the fact that I can’t uhm.. Move? But I don’t remember the ph-phobia for that.”

He frowns, “Would me putting my arm around you make it better or worse?”

She stares at the floor for a moment, “..I don’t know.”

Papyrus hesitates before gently sliding his hand across her shoulders, rubbing her back but not keeping her down. She sighs softly, “Sorry. It’s really… It’s not that bad. I’m just… It just freaks me out a little.”

He cannot help but scoot closer and nuzzle into the top of her head, “Don’t apologize, dear. There’s- There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.”

She laughs weakly, but seems calmed by the action, “I’m being dramatic.”

Papyrus freezes. 

He could not count the amount of times he’s been told he was being dramatic for his actions, or extra, or too much. Sans was the only person who’d ever understood him. And her. 

He resumes rubbing her back, “You’re not being dramatic.”

—---------------------------

You could tell Papyrus had a history with that word with the way he paused. You normally didn’t like the thought of being touched, you didn’t exactly grow up with daily hugs from your parents, and friends were conditioned not to touch you with how frequently you flinched away from it, skin crawling, but Papyrus… 

It felt right. Good even. Tingles and warmth bloomed from every place his hand touched, sparking at the base of your neck and trailing down your spine. 

His words were something your old friends told you often, but some part of you felt different as it came from him. 

You allow him to nuzzle the top of your head again, something you assume is common for monsters since he’d done it a few times, and breathe.

Papyrus sits with you just like that for a long moment, rubbing your back before he slips his red gloves off to braid your hair. You can’t help your curiosity, and questions distract from the tingles pouring from each minute touch, “Is the braiding a.. A monster thing, or a you thing?”

He smiles, gently brushing baby hairs at your nape to join the rest of your hair, “It’s a me thing. Monsters do like making puzzles and traps though, which is where I learned it.”

You can’t help the small smile creeping onto your face, “You made puzzles and traps?”

He nods, laughing softly, “I was very good at it! Though a lot of monsters didn’t seem to think so.”

You lean into his touch a little, “I’m sure they were awesome. You should show me sometime.”

Papyrus hums, and you feel it just as much as you hear it. “I’d love to.”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment as you text Brends asking for help. 

He finishes the braid, gently pulls your hair free, then begins to braid it again. 

Brenda is at the door quickly, “Are you two alright?”

Papyrus nods, then realizes she cannot see him, blushes and swats at you for snickering at him, before calling out, “WE’RE OKAY!”

You’re still laughing as you respond, “Just fine!”

Brenda sighs in relief, trying to open the door and failing, “I think the locks jammed? I’ll go get maintenance.”

“Okay!”

You hear her leave and lean against Papyrus again. He hums contently, his fingers already in your hair again. 

 There’s another moment of silence before Papyrus begins to speak, “You know, someone once called me dramatic because of my dislike of heights. And going backwards.”

Your brow furrows, “What a dick. That’s not dramatic.”

Papyrus chuckles softly, “I’ve found there is usually reasoning behind more fears, even if you humans call them irrational.”

You tilt your head, confused, waiting for him to continue.

He huffs and focuses on your hair again, “I was fifteen at the time. I stayed friends with him for a long time. I still am, actually, though I don’t see him often. I.. I wasn’t a very good friend. I’m very bad with names. I called him Flowery instead of Flowey for years.”

You snicker, “I once mixed up two of my friends' names for three months.”

Papyrus chuckles, leaning into your shoulder, “He was a flower monster, with incredible use of vines. He.. He convinced me to climb to the top of one of the LEDs in Snowdin forest, which was… very high. To the roof of the Underground, high, you know?” 

You don’t, but you nod, assuming it was pretty high considering there were bird monsters and a bunch of other monsters that fly.

He hums softly, “He pushed me off.” You tense, turning to Papyrus. He has a far away look in his eyelights. “I fell backwards.”

“...What the actual fuck was wrong with him?”

Papyrus laughs, shutting his eyes, “He was trying to help me, in his own way. I was struggling to use blue magic on myself at the time. He figured I would catch myself in time, and it would solve my fear of heights. He was right about the first one, I did catch myself, but it was terrifying.”

You turn, pulling him into a hug, “It sounds terrifying. You’re not dramatic for that.”

He smiles softly, hugging you back. “Do you have a reason?”

You know what he’s asking. And for once..? You actually want to talk about it.

You nod a little, sitting up on your knees, “I was sixteen or so, I think. My Dad wanted me to drive a shipment of.. Uh. Well, it was seafood. Boat sacks are a hundred pounds each, and I had at least twenty in the back of his truck. I actually delivered it fine, but on my way home uh… I was used to the extra weight, I guess? I made a turn a little too short after it had rained, and the truck flipped. I couldn’t reach my phone, and I was on a back road, so they didn’t find me for a.. A little while. I was upside down for three hours. And I uh… I couldn’t move at all.”

—------------------

Papyrus stares at her silently, before tugging her back into his arms, “You’re incredibly strong, my dear. 

She leans into him, and for a moment their collarbones touch, and their souls are close enough to resonate. Thick, cool waves of calm wash over them, and Papyrus smiles into her hair. 

He loves her. 

He hums softly, “I’m glad you survived. Incredibly glad, actually.”

She laughs softly against him, “Thanks. You too.”

Papyrus thinks for a moment, “Would you like to make the cake with me?”

Chery sits up, blinking, “Are you asking me to make my own birthday cake?”

He snorts before breaking out into laughter and she stares at him in mock offence. He can feel that she doesn’t mean it. 

His giggles don’t die and she sighs dramatically, “I guess! But only if I can lick the bowl.”

Papyrus snickers, gently smoothing her hair out of her face, “Whatever you’d like, dear.”

He loves her.

Chapter Text

Mettaton kicks his feet back and forth, laying on his stomach in his own dressing room across town. He can’t help but grin, watching Papyrus get flustered over his totally innocent questioning. “So, she’s your soulmate? And your personal assistant?”

Papyrus flops onto the couch, “YES, METTATON. IN ALL FAIRNESS, I WAS UNAWARE SOULMATES EXISTED WHEN I HIRED HER, LET ALONE THAT SHE WAS MINE.”

Mettaton waves his hand at him, grinning. “You sly dog.”

Papyrus’ skull lights up orange and he groans, hiding further into the throw pillow he snatches from the corner of the couch. “LEAVE ME ALONE.”

The robot just giggles, kicking his feet again, “So, why exactly were you late to our ‘meeting’?”

Mettaton wiggles his eyebrows and Papyrus shoves his face into the pillow, “…WE GOT STUCK IN MY CLOSET.”

Mettaton laughs until he short circuits, and Papyrus really debates not plugging the bastard back in.

Ten minutes later, Papyrus sits crisscross in front of the robot as he boots back up, attempting to appear unamused. Mettaton wakes up, still giggling, before pointing at Papyrus, “YOU’RE in an ANIME!”

Papyrus debates pulling the plug. A shame he’s a good friend, really. “NO, THE DOOR JUST JAMMED BECAUSE I SLAMMED IT TOO HARD!”

Mettaton lights up, “Why’d you slam it?! Why were you in the closet-“

Papyrus very gently kicks him, “SHE WAS GRABBING A JACKET FOR ME, I STARTLED HER, AND SHE FELL…. ON ME. I JUST-“ He has to talk louder to be heard over Mettaton’s laughter, “I SLAMMED THE DOOR SO WE WOULDN’T FALL ON THE GROUND!”

Mettaton just continues to giggle, “That’s even MORE anime!! I can’t WAIT to tell Alphys-“

Papyrus immediately tackles him, “ABSOLUTELY NOT, YOU HEATHEN! BECAUSE THEN SHE WILL TELL UNDYNE! IF SHE FINDS OUT I WILL NEVER LIVE IT DOWN-“

—————————-

Mettaton told Alphys.

Undyne squeezes him around the ribs until they creak with the force and he pushes her off. Papyrus pouts best he can as a skeleton, wheezing, but Undyne has been his friend for far too long for puppy eyes to work on her. 

Sans is his only hope, but he immediately looks away, grinning, “did it to yourself, paps.”

Undyne shakes him, then launches a first to knuckle the top of his skull, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FOUND YOUR SOULMATE?!”

Papyrus cries out, “DON’T NOOGIE THE SKELETON!”

She grins viciously, “I’M NOOGIE-ING THE SKELETON!!! FOR NOT TELLING ME!! HE FOUND HIS SOULMATE!!”

When she gets her energy out, Papyrus slumps to the floor, covering his skull, “I DIDN’T KNOW AT FIRST!!”

Undyne throws her hands up, “I can’t believe you let me MEET HER! AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!”

Papyrus blushes badly, “SHE DOESN’T KNOW YET! AND I DON'T WANT HER TO KNOW YET!”

Undyne immediately stops her majority playful tantrum to stare at him, “Wait, what? She doesn’t KNOW!?” She takes in a deep breath, clearly about to ramble about something, before she sits next to him, “You don’t want her to?”

Papyrus shrugs a little, “WELL… SHE’S MY EMPLOYEE. AND HUMANS DON'T VIEW SOULMATES IN THE SAME WAY WE DO. HER LAST BOSS… HE ISN’T A GOOD PERSON, And he tried to force himself on her and I don’t want her to feel like the same thing is happening again. SHE’S AN INCREDIBLE FRIEND AND I DON’T WANT TO LOOSE HER. Not to mention the state of the kingdom, Undyne.”

Undyne flinches, brows furrowing, “But, she’s your soulmate!”

Sans returns from the kitchen, three bottles of water in hand. He sets them on the coffee table before sitting on Papyrus’ other side. “…i can understand the employee part, paps. and… it’s really sweet that you’re trying to look out for her like that. you just don’t want her to feel like she’s gotta please you to get paid, as her boss, right?”

Papyrus nods, a weight lifting from his shoulders that Sans understands. Undyne frowns, “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. BUT! What the heck does the kingdom have to do with it?!”

Papyrus blinks, glancing at her, “UNDYNE THERE WAS AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON THE KING IN BROAD DAYLIGHT AT A PEACE RALLY. NOT TO MENTION THE AMOUNT OF SYMPATHIZERS BEING TAKEN OUT, AND THE FACT THAT MONSTERS HAVE BEEN GOING MISSING. I’M AN OPTIMIST, SURE, BUT WE ALL KNOW THOSE MONSTERS AREN’T-” He sighs, composing himself, “SHE’S IN DANGER, BEING PUBLIC NEAR ME. SHE WAS ON STAGE WHEN DOGARESSA DIED.”

Undyne straightens, “I know that Papyrus. She’s the one that called the shot. She saved Asgore’s life. So I don’t get why you’re worried.”

Papyrus hands gesture wildly, “I DON’T WANT HER TO BE CALLING SHOTS, UNDYNE, I WANT HER SAFE! AND I WAS INSANELY LUCKY TO KEEP HER NEAR ME AFTER THAT, AND EVEN LUCKIER THAT SHE’S STAYING AROUND KNOWING MY JOB JUST GOT A LOT HARDER. I AM NOT A SYMBOL OF MONSTERS AND HUMANS DESERVING THE SURFACE EQUALLY, I AM A SYMBOL AGAINST GENOCIDE.”

Sans stares at his little brother in stunned silence. His brother has never been childish or unintelligent, but the simple undressing of his role in what could be an incoming war was… distressing to say the least.

Undyne puffs her chest, “She’s your SOULMATE, PAPS! She’s literally BUILT to handle this with you! And if she’s got the guts to trust herself on that sniper call, then the guts to TACKLE YOU, she’s gonna be FINE!”

Papyrus flinched at the memory, “UNDYNE WHAT IF WE GO UNDERGROUND? WHAT IF THERE IS A WAR? SHE- I’M NOT GOING TO FORCE HER TO MAKE A DECISION LIKE THAT.”

Sans gently slides an arm around Papyrus’ shoulders, “you’re not going to. but… she does deserve to know. she deserves the choice, paps.”

Papyrus slumps, curling up, “...I’LL TELL HER SOON. JUST. SHE’S COMING OVER TOMORROW SO WE CAN MAKE CAKE. I MISSED HER BIRTHDAY. I JUST WANT TOMORROW TO BE NORMAL, JUST IN CASE… YOU KNOW.”

Sans frowns, tugging his little brother into a hug, “...okay, kid.” He nuzzles a skeleton kiss into the top of Papyrus’ skull. Undyne looks frustrated, but Sans shakes his head at her, gesturing to let his brother handle it. 

She doesn’t like it, but listens.

—--------------------

You hastily tug your hair into a style that probably won’t get into the cake batter, being sure you don’t wear anything crazy that may get messy or be too revealing. You’re kind of going on a date. With your boss.

Of course, he doesn’t see it this way, because he’s an absolute sweetheart who you’ve somehow hoodwinked into believing that you’re worth celebrating. But. Ahah. He’s far too good for you.

The outfit you chose isn’t anything crazy, a simple matching jumpsuit with a tank top and matching jewelry and comfortable sneakers. You’re tempted to wear your doc martens but decide against it in fear of scratching up his floors. 

…

You’re going to his house. Privately, you wonder how monster homes look in comparison to human ones. You doubt there’s much difference, but, if there are any, what is it? 

Different sized appliances, for sure, right? Art? Fabrics? 

How much is culture versus necessity? 

You throw your hood over your head, rubbing your arms in the brisk October air. It got much colder up north than what you were used to back in southern Louisiana. You had wanted to drive but Papyrus had offered to pick you up, and fuck you loved that car, so you agreed. Of course, you weren’t an idiot, and you told him a completely different address in case either of you are followed, but now you’re freezing your ass off walking six blocks away. 

Sigh. 

You rub your arms gently, checking your message from Papyrus saying he was on his way. He was sweet enough to give you his ETA as well, letting you know you had twenty minutes. Granted, that was ten minutes ago. Thankfully, you’re a fast walker, and find yourself on the corner of the street you told Papyrus you lived on. Exactly on time, you see your– no– Papyrus’ red corvette turning the corner across from you. 

He rolls up slowly, hopping out the car after putting it in park. He looks only a smidge frantic, but mostly concerned, “WHY ARE YOU WAITING OUT IN THE COLD? I WOULD’VE TEXTED YOU I WAS HERE, CHERRY!”

You laugh softly, rubbing your arms, “I’m fine!! I was just excited!” 

His face lights up with magic, but he still gently ushers you into the passenger seat, opening the door for you and everything, “I’M GLAD TO HEAR IT!” 

Papyrus is back in the driver's seat after a few long strides, ducking his head under the frame before shutting the door. He reaches towards the A/C, turning the heater on and turning your seat warmer on medium. You can’t help but feel flattered by the level of… just.. 

He just cares.  

He cares.  

You click your seatbelt on, hoping he thinks the red on your cheeks is from the cold. “Thanks, Paps.”

He immediately softens at the nickname, flashing you a sweet smile, “OF COURSE! ARE- WELL, YOU ALREADY SAID YOU WERE EXCITED. ARE YOU READY?”

You grin, “To make cake? Heck yeah.”

Papyrus bounces happily in his seat, starting the car and taking off towards his home, “I’VE ACTUALLY NEVER MADE A CAKE BEFORE SO! YOU WILL HAVE TO GUIDE ME!”

“You’ve never made a cake?” 

He immediately nods, chuckling, “SANS DOES NOT TRUST ME ALONE IN THE KITCHEN. EXCEPT TO MAKE SPAGHETTI. I DON’T THINK ANYONE CAN MESS UP SPAGHETTI, THOUGH.”

You snort, “I’m allergic to tomatoes and my mom kept forgetting about it. I trust your spaghetti’s good though.”

He looks baffled, “HOW DOES A MOTHER FORGET HER CHILD’S ALLERGIES?”

—---------------

Cherry’s mom would never not confuse Papyrus. Just. 

How.  

His soulmate just laughs, waving her hands, “Well, I wasn’t that allergic, and I don’t think I’m allergic at all anymore! It was just a rash!”

So she had a reaction to it. Allergies and the like baffled Papyrus, the fact that the human body will literally kill itself if a human happens to eat the wrong, though perfectly edible, food.  Humans are so weird. 

He frowns, “STILL!”

—-------------------

You can’t help but snicker at his offence to your mother’s parenting. You love her, sure, but she wasn’t perfect. “You’re talking about the woman who didn’t know my favorite color, despite it being her favorite color too. I once won a state award and she skipped my award ceremony to garden.”  

You laugh to yourself, but can still feel the hurt in that moment. You called and she didn’t answer. 

Whatever. 

Papyrus looks cross, but he’s so fucking cute that you don’t even think about how scared you’d normally be in a car with a pissed off man. “RIDICULOUS. WHAT IN THE JEVIL WAS WRONG WITH THAT WOMAN?”

You snort, wheezing quietly next to him, mouthing ‘jevil’ to yourself, “Is.. Is that a monster thing? That’s got to be a monster thing.”

He smiles, “YES, BUT I HAVE FORGOTTEN IT’S ORIGIN.” 

You shrug, knowing you’d forgotten a lot of the nuances in your own culture over the years. It happens. “Valid.”

You stare out the window for most of the drive, privately memorizing the path to and from his home. Just in case.

Papyrus seems content to talk for most of the drive, rambling about random stuff he’d done or learned recently, or some experiences underground.

It was almost domestic. 

Pulling up to Papyrus’ house surprises you. It’s not much more than a thirty minute walk from your place. You move to hop out of the car, and Papyrus rushes to your side to help you out. You startle, then laugh as he offers you a hand. “Very princely, Sir Papyrus.”

He grins, “A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR AT LAST!”

It’s a condo, quite similar to yours back in Louisiana, decorated in Christmas lights either two months early or ten months late. It’s so Papyrus and Sans that you grin. You even catch a pirate skull and crossbones flag in the upstairs window as you walk in. Papyrus holds the door open for you, and waves his arms around, “WELCOME TO SCENIC MY HOUSE! SANS ISN’T HOME RIGHT NOW, BUT HE MAY COME BACK IN AN HOUR OR SO!”

You smile and nod, looking around, “It looks great!” 

You weren’t even lying, his home was much cozier and was less flashy than what you were expecting. There was an incredibly comfortable looking couch marking the border between the kitchen and the living room, a small island on the edge of the kitchen on the left, and a large flat screen TV on the right wall. There’s a door all the way to the right, covered in caution tape, with a sign spelling ‘PAPYRUS’ in all caps. 

It makes you smile. 

There’s an upstairs, but it’s hard to see how many doors there are with the banister in the way. 

Papyrus gives you his best jazz hands to lead you towards the kitchen, and you can’t help but grin. It’s nice. Brand new appliances, spotless floors, wood plated walls… Very homey. Very Papyrus. 

There's a big box of cake mix on the counter top, your favorite flavor. 

You didn’t have to remind him. The bar is low but it means something to you. Your fucking dad doesn’t know your favorite cake flavor. He bought your little brother a cookie cake and had you share. Your brother’s birthday was in October and yours was in September.

Also you were Seventeen and your brother was Nine.  

Sigh. 

Papyrus pulls you from your thoughts as he begins grabbing the ingredients listed on the box. You don’t know where anything is, so you mostly just stand awkwardly in the middle of his kitchen while he flits around you. You realize yet again that you’re in his house.

Home.

You take a deep breath, and brighten. He wants you here. 

“I DON’T THINK I’VE EVER TRIED THIS FLAVOR OF CAKE!”

He’s holding up the box curiously, twisting it this way and that with a smile, “I’M EXCITED.”

You laugh softly, “Same. I haven’t had a birthday cake– or a cake at all– made for me since I was like… seven.”

He pats your back, “WE CHANGE THAT TODAY! EVEN IF YOU ARE HELPING ME. IT STILL COUNTS.” 

You snicker, nodding, “It counts.” 

It probably wouldn’t. But he cares and it’s enough.

You pick up the box to set the oven to the right time, and Papyrus pauses behind you, “WHAT’S THAT?”

You point at the words on the box and are surprised when Papyrus blushes, reading it a couple times before nodding, “PREHEAT? OKAY!”

You count it as a little odd, but hesitate on whether or not to push. Papyrus looks genuinely embarrassed for some reason, so you say nothing, simply setting the oven to the 400 degrees it recommends. Papyrus gathered all the ingredients on the counter for you, smiling sheepishly before clearing his throat, “THE WORDS ON THE BOX ARE VERY SMALL AND DIFFICULT FOR A EVEN A GREAT SKELETON SUCH AS MYSELF TO READ! BUT! THE PICTURES ARE FINE!”

Oh. You nod and smile, “Yeah, good job. Do you have like… medium bowl?”

He immediately scours cabinets far over your head, kind of making you wish you’d worn heels, but he kind of makes you feel precious when he skirts around you to reach into a cabinet above you, resting a hand on your shoulder for balance. 

You snicker, “I could’ve moved?”

Papyrus laughs, fetching a bowl and closing the cabinet door, “NO NEED!”

—----------------

Normally humans pity him when he mentions stuff like that. That he struggles reading. How… elementary! It’s not his fault, he knows that, and he knows how to read perfectly fine! It’s just that the little letters get mixed up sometimes and he gets confused! He’s almost surprised she doesn’t comment before realizing that this is his soulmate. 

He struggles to breathe a moment as he finds the bowl, not even thinking to just let her shift out the way.  

He settles back next to the ingredients, setting the bowl down gently since it’s glass. She smiles, and reads the box with a speed Papyrus wishes he could, before taking an egg and confidently crackling it on the side of the bowl, carefully letting the inside fall before stacking the egg shell together. She hands him the second egg, and he’s so careful to follow her exact movements, not wanting to accidentally splatter her in egg like Undyne’s methods would’ve. Papyrus relaxes a little once he does it right, letting the egg yolk and whites slip soundlessly into the bowl. 

“WELL. THERE’S-” He laughs, fully feeling the awkwardness of the silence, “THERE’S STEP ONE.”

Blessedly, Cherry laughs as well, “Do you want to play music? Once we put the cake in the oven, it’s going to take a while.”

Papyrus hums, nodding seriously, “GOOD IDEA! WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY?”

She hesitates, “Uh… Oh, hey. Do monsters have like… Sorry. I don’t know how else to word this, like. C-Cultural music? Or like..” She hums, crossing her arms, “Humans in different areas, even if we’re the same race and nationality, have vastly different cultures? Where I’m from has a couple types of music, originating from there. I’m asking if monsters have that.”

Papyrus stares at her a moment before bursting into laughter. He’s pretty sure this is the most nervous he’s ever seen her. “YES, MY DEAR, MONSTERS HAVE MUSIC. OTHER THAN METTATON, THAT IS.” 

He hands her the large bottle of Canola Oil that she silently pours into a measuring cup before dumping it into the mixing bowl. “WE HAVE SOUL AND SETTING SONGS.”

She looks at him with something akin to awe, “What is it? What’s the difference?”

He smiles, kind of giddy about sharing something so close in his soul with his soulmate.  “WELL, YOU’D HEAR A SOUL SONG– ANYONES, EVEN MINE– WHEN YOU ENTER AN ENCOUNTER WITH A MONSTER. IT’S A BEAT AND MELODY IN TUNE WITH A MONSTER’S SOUL, SO THEIR EMOTIONS AND SENSE OF SELF IN THE MOMENT CAN AFFECT THEIR SONG! I’VE ONLY HAD ONE SONG MY ENTIRE LIFE, BUT SOME MONSTERS HAVE HAD MULTIPLE! LIKE METTATON, ACTUALLY!”

Cherry uses sink water to fill the measuring cup again, dunking it into the bowl, “That is so cool, Papyrus,” Her eyes are bright and her soul is radiating wonder and he loves her. “Can… Can I hear yours? Is that? A thing?”

Papyrus snickers softly, “I WOULD LOVE TO, BUT I’M AFRAID IT’S STILL ILLEGAL FOR A MONSTER TO ENGAGE AN ENCOUNTER WITH A HUMAN!”

—--------------

If only you could tell him how okay you are with illegal activity. A shame. You search silently for something to mix your wet ingredients with and Papyrus flushes, “I’M AFRAID UNDYNE BROKE MY LAST MIX.. THINGY-”

“Whisk?”

“-THAT. WOULD A SPOON WORK?”

She smiles, “Can I get a fork?”

He nods, grabbing one from the cutlery drawer, “OF COURSE!”

You take it and tilt the bowl so nothing spills and you quickly whisk everything together, “Can you open the mix bag? Oh, and slowly pour it into the bowl. While I mix.” You flash him a smile, distracted by the information you’ve been offered. 

Papyrus nods, grinning and following your directions smoothly, “SETTING SONGS ARE A LITTLE DIFFERENT. IT’S HARD TO EXPLAIN, SINCE HUMANS AREN’T SO INTUNED WITH THEIR SOULS, BUT WE CAN BASICALLY SENSE MUSIC COMING FROM CERTAIN AREAS AND ROOMS. YOUR OFFICE SOUNDS VERY FAMILIAR, AND YOUR CAR ACTUALLY HAS THE SAME SONG AS MINE!”

You blink then grin, “Is that rare? Wait, that's.. That’s so cool. Do I have a sound?”

Papyrus laughs, emptying out the bag of mix and throwing it away while you continue to stir,  “MOST HUMANS DO NOT, THOUGH I’D HAVE TO ENTER AN ENCOUNTER WITH YOU TO KNOW!”

Sigh. Curse your false identity, you like illegal shit. 

He pulls a cake pan from under the stove as you finish mixing the batter, and you nearly pour it in before, “Wait, shit, we need to oil it first.” You set the bowl down, and turn to Papyrus, “Do you have cooking spray?”

He hesitates, looking a little confused, before, “OH, I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! YES, ONE MOMENT,” He leaves your side to dig in a cabinet above and to the right of the stove, before pulling out a large yellow spray bottle. He sprays it lightly, but when you still him it needs more so the cake won’t stick to the pan, he sprays the absolute shit out of it, making you laugh. 

You use a paper towel to spread it evenly and rid the access, before allowing Papyrus to pour it in the pan. The oven had long finished preheating, so he simply opened it and placed the cake pan on the rack. Papyrus didn’t seem to hold an inch of fear of being burned and it kind of made you a teensy bit nervous, but okay. 

—-----------------

She looks startled when he turns around, and Papyrus straightens, “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

She nods immediately, “Yeah! Yeah, sorry, just. Can you get burned?”

Papyrus blinks, “NO? WELL, YES, BUT BONES DON’T BURN AT SUCH LOW TEMPERATURES! IT WOULD TAKE AROUND SIX HUNDRED DEGREES AT LEAST BEFORE A MARK IS LEFT. WERE YOU WORRIED FOR ME?”

Cherry blushes a little but nods, “That’s… Four hundred degrees isn’t a low temperature for humans. If our body temperature alone gets over one-oh-five our cells literally start disintegrating and we start dissolving from the inside.”

SO THAT’S HORRIFYING. 

He nods curtly, “SO I WILL NOT BE ALLOWING YOU NEAR THE STOVE.”

She snickers, setting a timer on her phone before switching apps and tapping at the screen, her nails sounding a satisfying click with every tap. He cannot help but smile.

Papyrus quite likes her nails. 

She starts playing something distinctly southern, something upbeat and almost rustic. The melody was bright and it reminded him vaguely of a movie he’d watched a while back. He watches her smile grow as she sets her phone on the counter, taking his gloved hands in her own.

Papyrus is gentle in holding her hands, because she’s precious and he can’t imagine hurting her, even accidentally. She leads him, silently showing the steps to what appears to be a line dance, though she clearly alters it to be able to be followed with them facing each other, Papyrus nearly effortlessly mirroring her movements despite never having heard the song before, let alone knowing the dance. Two steps to the right, then left. She taps the toe of one foot towards him twice, then taps behind twice. A step forward, a step back. She gently tugs his arm to turn him when the lyrics kick in.

I said roll with me, ride with me

I said roll with me, ride with me

I said roll with me, ride with me

I said roll with me, ride with me

His soul feels almost tight and he’s smiling so hard it hurts as he allows her to tug him along, letting the melody and beat guide his steps once he no longer has to watch her feet to follow along. Two steps right, two steps left, two toe steps back, two steps front. A long-ish step back, a stutter step forward. Turn. Repeat. 

I ain't much on casanova, me and romeo ain't never been friends

No longer needing to watch her feet, his lights flick to her face. And she’s glowing. 

But can't you see how much I really love ya?

Papyrus will wonder later if she’d played this song on purpose, but in the moment he’s far more focused on the truth behind it as he twirls her around instead of turning.

I wanna say it to ya time and time again

Cherry grins brightly, letting him with a soft laugh. 

Casanova (rider rider rider) 

Casanova (rider rider rider)

Oh. He… He really loves her. He spins her again to distract from the star struck expression he’s sure is on his face. Casanova. Hah. 

Oohhhhh, Casanova (rider rider rider)

Papyrus falls back into the not-line dance with her, unable to tamp down the almost feral glee in his smile. Cherry is smiling just as hard, and the connection is there and pure and his. For this precious moment, she is his. 

Said do we love it? (we love it)

YES. STARS, YES.

Said do we need it? (we need it)

… He wants. Is that enough?

—--------------

Said do we love it? (we love it) Said do we need it? (we need it)

Said do we love it? (we love it) Said do we need it? (we need it)

Said do we love it? (we love it) Said do we need it? (we need it)

When Sans came home a little earlier than he told Papyrus he would be, he was not expecting his little brother to be dancing with his soulmate in the kitchen. It’s so fucking sweet he ducks back behind the upstairs loft banister so to not disturb. It doesn’t matter, of course, the two are far too caught in each other to notice their accidental spectator. 

I said roll with me, ride with me

I said roll with me, ride with me

Sans’ smile is unbearably soft as he watches the pair dance, barely choking down a laugh when Papyrus ducks down to nearly half his height to allow her to twirl him.

I said roll with me, ride with me

I said roll with me, ride with me

Ah. He likes this girl. He trusted her before, to protect Papyrus. To sacrifice for his brother. It’s a lot to ask and expect someone to die for someone. Sans has always felt it was more to ask someone to live for someone. 

I ain't much on casanova, me and romeo ain't never been friends

His soul aches a little, his smile shifting from soft to downright fond. Cherry. heheh. alright, kid. 

But can't you see how much I really love ya?

It’s clear enough that she would live for Papyrus. She’s at least making him happy. It’s all Sans can ask for- dream for- in a partner for his little brother. 

A soulmate.

I wanna say it to ya time and time again

He teleports back to Grillby’s, slipping his gloves off and stuffing them in his pockets. 

—----------------

Papyrus swears he feels his soul pulse on beat, still holding onto Cherry’s hands.

Casanova (rider rider rider)

He wants this. 

Casanova (rider rider rider)

But is this innocent happiness worth inserting her into a war?

Casanova (rider rider rider)

…

Oohhhhh, Casanova (rider rider rider)

He supposes he’ll at least let her choose.

—-----------------

The song eases out, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. You know for a fact that Casanova is only four and a half minutes long, but the moment felt much longer. And too short. 

You can’t remember the last time you danced with someone. 

You can’t even recall what possessed you to drag Papyrus- Your boss– into learning a line dance, but he looks so happy that you don’t care. You just want to do it again. 

…

Yeah. 

You have a crush. 

Mais merde. 

—--------------------

You’re able to teach Papyrus the Cupid shuffle, giggling all the while as he initially struggles, then deadpans once the lyrics kick in and literally tell him where to go, as well at the two step– both versions– to Haterz. 

It kind of feels like home. 

Except you feel much more wanted here. 

You just finished teaching him Footloose, which had both of you tripping up as you struggled to remember exactly how it went, filling the house with laughter and your soft scuffs of your shoes on tile, when the oven beeps. 

Papyrus gently bats you away from the oven before he pulls the cake out, using an oven mitt despite the fact that he was already wearing gloves and told you he didn’t need to worry about the temperature. 

It’s so simple. 

It’s so simple and it’s really nothing but it makes everything feel real. 

Papyrus listened to you. Actually, no, he didn’t just listen. You hadn’t told him it made you nervous. He just. He was just paying attention to you. He saw it made you nervous.

It’s enough.

The bar is so low you’re smacking your ankles on it like a razor scooter but he’s listening to you and caring about you and dancing with you and it’s enough. 

He places the cake on the stove to cool, before turning back to you, “IT’LL BE A WHILE BEFORE IT’S OKAY TO ICE!”

You nod, leaning against the counter with a smile. He glances at the cake, then you, “WHEN WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY, BY THE WAY?”

You pause, then cough, “Uh… The twenty-first?”

Papyrus stands straight, suddenly tense, “OF SEPTEMBER?”

You don’t wince. You don’t care about your birthday. It doesn’t matter.

(You’re such a liar.)

“Uh. Yeah?”

Normally you loved that you could say you were literally born on the twenty first night of September (Let’s groove tonight, right?) but Papyrus was definitely not thinking of a song.

—--------------

International Day of Peace. 

Her birthday was on the International Day of Peace. 

‘Wow Papyrus, how do you know that?’ OH, YOU KNOW, NOTHING BIG. 

There just happened to be a festival. 

A peace festival. 

That they happened to get shot at during. 

…

Papyrus hates it. He hates it but he knows he can’t do this. He can’t. Won’t. Not yet, at least. 

He cannot pressure her in any way. He….

He can’t do this to her. 

“THE FESTIVAL WAS ON YOUR BIRTHDAY?”

Chapter Text

You startle a little, kind of hoping he wouldn’t remember the day, “Just a bit? I mean, I was born pretty early in the morning so-“

Papyrus waves frantically, “NOT THE POINT! I ALMOST GOT YOU SHOT ON YOUR BIRTHDAY???”

You almost laugh, because Papyrus is hilarious when he’s theatrically upset over unimportant things, then you pause, processing what he said. He? Papyrus didn’t do anything wrong. He was blaming himself. He was blaming himself?? You straighten, making firm eye contact. “Papyrus, the festival wasn’t your fault.”

He tenses, and you can barely hear the distressed keen building in his throat, but fuck does the noise do something to you. One, you never want to hear him genuinely distressed again in your life because it feels like you just watched someone kick a golden retriever puppy, and two, a traitorous sadistic part of you desperately wants to hear him keen again. Just. Under you. And in an entirely different context.

Bad you.

——————

Papyrus is concerned and generally upset with this newfound knowledge, but even he is not so great to be able to keep the heat from rising to his face when he feels her end of the bond fight itself with conflicting feelings of concern and want.  

HHHHH?? 

He pushes the feeling down, certain he’s misunderstood, and when he refocuses, he can only feel worry-concern-guilt radiating off her.

HAHAHHH. HE MUST’VE IMAGINED IT.

Wait, guilt?

Papyrus has no idea what she could possibly feel guilty about, but her lack of safety at the festival was his fault. 

He frowns, stepping closer, “I… I KNOW THAT. BUT YOU’RE MY RESPONSIBILITY? YOU… YOU’RE MY-“ Papyrus chokes down the word he so desperately wants to say. “— MY BEST FRIEND, CHERRY. BUT YOU’RE ALSO MY EMPLOYEE OR ASSISTANT OR WHATEVER AND IT’S MY JOB TO KEEP YOU SAFE. AND I FAILED.”

She blinks up at him, “I’m your best friend?”

Papyrus pauses, opening his mouth and shutting it a few times as he loses every attempt at speech to the feeling of ‘YES??? ARE YOU SERIOUS??’

“THAT?? IS NOT THE POINT? BUT YES?”

She shakes her head, refocusing, “Oh! Sorry! It’s just,” Cherry smiles and offers him her raised fist, “you’re my best friend, too. Is that weird?”

Papyrus wants to be much more than best friends, but that’s neither here nor there. “I! I don’t know, actually! Does it feel weird to you?”

——————

You shrug, internally prideful that you were able to switch the subject without talking about yourself. Papyrus is… so sweet to care about you, but holy shit, none of that was his fault. Besides, you’ve worked much more dangerous jobs. This is practically childsplay. Your Barbie’s had more intense crime schemes than whatever fils de putain was going around killing monsters and sympathizers. 

But now he’s got you talking about feelings, which is debatably worse. You shift to sit on the floor with your legs crossed, genuinely thinking about your answer because Papyrus deserves your honestly wherever you can spare it.

You wouldn’t say it’s.. not weird, but you don’t dislike the dynamic you have. You watch as he joins you on the floor, still far taller than you until he curls in on himself to match your size a little better. It makes you giggle, and you tap his upper arm with your fist since he hadn’t noticed your fist-bump beforehand, “Well, I don’t mind a little weird, as long as it’s you.”

—————————

Papyrus pretends she didn’t just kiss a brick and throw it at him, willing his soul to settle as he gently pats her shoulder, “WELL. THANK YOU! IT’S TO BE EXPECTED, I’M VERY GREAT AND POPULAR,“ She snickers and he almost wishes he wasn’t so in love with her so that all of this would be easier, “BUT I ALSO ENJOY YOUR WEIRDNESS!”

PAPYRUS ‘I enjoy your weirdness’ GASTER, EVERYONE. 

He mentally begs himself to shut up.

She doesn’t seem to see the statement as odd, just smiling at him and shrugging, “I mean, we are a team.”

————————

You watch him soften, spine tingling pleasingly when he rests a hand on your back. Huh. You don’t normally like being touched. He slides the hand up to squeeze your shoulder gently before seeming to deflate. “WE ARE A TEAM. BUT IN BEING A TEAM, WE PROTECT EACH OTHER. NOT JUST YOU PROTECTING ME. AND MY BROTHER HAS ME MORE THAN TRAINED IN BEING ABLE TO TELL WHEN YOU’RE TRYING TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT. NICE TRY, THOUGH!”

You can’t help but laugh. This is such a serious moment, you know that, but Papyrus is fucking perfect and you can’t believe this is real. “Fair enough. Sorry. I just don’t want you to think I'm upset with you over it. What happened at the festival– me working for you– It wasn’t your fault, and I’m actively choosing to work with you after the fact. If I was scared and wanted to leave, I would’ve.”

He leans against the cabinets and rests his cheek against his free hand. “DON’T APOLOGIZE. I KNOW YOU ARE NOT UPSET, MY DEAR, AND THAT’S NOT WHERE MY CONCERN IS COMING FROM. I… I APOLOGIZE. I AM WORRIED FOR YOUR SAFETY NEAR ME BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU VERY MUCH, AND MONSTER SYMPATHIZERS ARE BEING ASSASINATED. IF MY PHOTOGRAPHER FROM TWO YEARS AGO WAS TARGETED, I AM TERRIFIED WITH HOW FAR UP THEIR LIST YOU MAY BE.”

You blink. That was… a good point. You hadn’t really wanted to be famous. At all. And now you’re incredibly well known in relation to Papyrus. Your name, while fake, is out there. Your face is out there, and you certainly haven't touched the idea of plastic surgery. You don’t find cosmetic changes horrible or anything, but the idea of a knife and needles near your face gives you the heebie-jeebies. Hard pass. 

All in all, you are more than a target. You know that. 

It’s the reason you ran from Louisiana. You’ve been a target your whole life. 

You breathe and let your traitorous heart win by leaning against his side. The warm comfort that immediately blankets you is almost overwhelming, and Papyrus’ ribs still for a moment as he squeezes your shoulder again, bringing you closer. “I DON’T MEAN TO SCARE YOU.”

You smile against your shoulder, looking at the floor. “I’m not scared.” 

You’re not lying either. Papyrus makes you feel safe. Complete, even. 

It occurs to you that he’s not wearing his gloves anymore. 

..

Perhaps this is what soulmates feel like. 

You don’t laugh, shoving the thought away before you allow yourself to dwell on fairy tales. You don’t deserve a soulmate, let alone Papyrus. You reach up to squeeze the hand resting on your shoulder, smiling, “And don’t apologize. I know what I’ve gotten myself into.”

You do, for the most part. But you need a backup plan. 

…

You need to call your dad.

—------------------------

They sit quietly until her alarm goes off again, letting them know it was okay to ice the cake without the frosting melting. Papyrus leverages himself up with a hand on the counter before helping her up as well. Her hands are warm and soft, and the tips of her nails tickle the palm of his hand lightly as he pulls her up. 

hE ducks into the fridge to retrieve the icing. Papyrus didn’t know which one she’d like, so he’d googled which one went best with the type of cake she’d picked and bought it. The way she perks up at the container in his hand reassures him that he selected correctly.

He hands her the circular container, and she searches his drawers for a butter knife, finding it almost immediately with a confidence he knows means she was paying attention earlier. She hands him one too, and they snicker at each other while they ice the cake. It’s incredibly messy, and probably the ugliest cake Papyrus and Cherry have both ever seen, but they had fun making it.

Cherry is mid slicing through the cake to serve both of them a slice, when the living room TV, which had been on silent, running old Mettaton episodes, blared an alarm. Papyrus startles, but not as much as Cherry does. The sweet smile on her face and the playfulness lacing her frame and posture drained in an instant. She was standing straight, shoulders back, with a hand hovering over her hip. Papyrus sees something in her eyes that reminds him of Undyne and Asgore. Something of a history. Experience. 

Papyrus takes maybe two seconds to understand that she doesn’t like alarms, and that she takes them very seriously. He gently places a hand on her middle back, and she immediately relaxes, snapping out of it. “Sorry. I thought that was your house alarm or something.”

Papyrus frowns, shaking his head, “NO, OUR HOUSE ALARM IS MUCH LOUDER, DON’T WORRY, DEAR. ARE YOU OKAY?”

She bites her lip and nods, looking conflicted as she allows her shoulders to drop, “Yeah. Just, uh. You know.”

He does not know, but he’s aware that if he doesn’t stop staring at her lips it’s going to be very obvious how much he wants to kiss her, so he straightens and moves to the living room to read the alert off the tv. “BLUE ALERT. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? I’VE NEVER SEEN ONE BEFORE.”

She frowns, having followed him in front of the couch. “It’s a shooting, I think? Police involved. Probably still ongoing if there's an alert.”

He scans the screen until he finds the location and-

“THAT’S YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD, ISN’T IT?”

Now, he wasn’t so much of a jerk to comment on the lack of safety of her neighborhood when he picked her up, though he fears his concern bled through when he asked her why the hell she was waiting outside when he arrived, shivering like she’d been out there for a while. 

He heard about drive bys in that area frequently. LA is not all Hollywood movies and Broadway shows. He’s more than aware of the dangers that come with living in the city. But of fucking course she’s at his house while her neighborhood is getting shot up. It’s got to be a soulmate thing. Papyrus believes in coincidences, sure, but.

Papyrus’ jaw clenches, and he turns to her, trying to gauge her expression because the bond is eerily quiet.

—---------------------------

You shove down all emotion. Your fucking luck.

Granted, it’s not your actual neighborhood, so it could be worse, but you can’t just… tell Papyrus you don’t actually live there??? You’d feel bad! 

You almost laugh because of how stupid this is, but you notice Papyrus is genuinely worried and sober up quickly. You twist to wave it off, blushing, “It’s uh… It’s not a big deal. I’ll just have to get a hotel.”

It obviously does little to alleviate Papyrus’ worry, as he gestures weakly at the screen, “THIS IS NOT NORMAL!?”

You shrug a little, “Well, i'm not going to go home obviously, but unless you and your brother are okay with me-”

Papyrus immediately nods, “WE ARE OKAY WITH YOU CRASHING ON THE COUCH, CHERRY. I WOULD NEVER FORGIVE MYSELF IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO YOU.”

You pause for a moment because you cannot believe you and Papyrus are finishing each other’s sentences at this point, and you were kidding. You did not think he would offer. “Oh, Paps, I don’t want to intrude-”

Papyrus shakes his head immediately, “NOT INTRUDING! I AM OFFERING! I OFFERED FIRST! AND SANS CAN SLEEP AT HIS BOYFRIEND’S IF HE HAS A PROBLEM! WHICH I’M PRETTY SURE HE IS ALREADY DOING! BECAUSE I HEARD HIM GET BACK AND THEN GO IN HIS ROOM AND IMMEDIATELY LEAVE AGAIN!”

—----------------------

He’s being a little extra, maybe a little pushy, but he’s fucking worried and if theres a chance she’ll feel comfortable enough to spend the night here where he can keep her safe, it’s worth it. Cherry laughs. She offers him a sweet smile and his soul beats against his ribs. 

She relents, raising her hand in surrender, “Alright, Paps. I’ll steal your couch.”

He balks, “YOU TAKE MY BED, I’LL TAKE THE COUCH.”

She deadpans, but he can feel that it’s playful, “Papyrus, I would pay money to see you try and fit fully onto that couch.”

Papyrus was expecting something along the lines of, ‘no I could never,’ or ‘no, I agreed to the couch, it’s fine,’ thanks. It’s so unserious that it rips a laugh from his chest, something she seems to achieve often, the menace. 

He pouts, “I DON’T SLEEP! I CAN DO SOME CHORES IN HERE, WHILE YOU TAKE MY ROOM! BESIDES, I DON’T WANT TO DISTURB YOU WITH MY LATE NIGHT DISHES AND LAUNDRY!”

She blinks up at him, “You do your house chores at night instead of sleeping?”

Papyrus smiles, “YES! IT SAVES MUCH TIME. I AM TOLERANT OF MOST PEOPLES WANT FOR VERY VERY LONG NAPS THOUGH! EVEN IF I FIND SLEEPING FOR THAT LONG WEIRD!”

Cherry tilts her head, “Wait, monsters and sleep must work differently than how humans need sleep. If we don’t sleep for so long, we go insane, then die because our brains start eating themselves– so if you don’t sleep at all then–”

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

His horror must show on his face, because she takes one look at him and falls apart with laughter, “Sorry! Sorry!”

He shakes his head to get the image out of his mind, before giggling, “YES, SLEEP WORKS DIFFERENTLY. I’M STARTING TO THINK YOU ENJOY FREAKING ME OUT WITH YOUR HUMAN WEIRDNESS.”

She laughs again, covering her mouth, “I don’t mean to! Swear!”

He calms after a moment and begins to explain, “IT’S QUITE SIMPLE! THERE IS MAGIC EVERYWHERE, INCLUDING IN THE AIR AND IN OBJECTS, ETC. SLEEPING ALLOWS OUT BODY TO ‘RESET,’ IN WHICH WE BORROW MAGIC FROM OUR SURROUNDINGS TO RESTORE OUR HP AND MANA LEVELS . ONLY, I HAVE A SHIT-TON OF MAGIC– OR MANA–, AND I HAVEN’T LOST ANY HEALTH POINTS! SO SLEEP IS UNNECESSARY FOR ME UNLESS I GET HURT OR I NEED TO RELAX! WHICH IS RARE!” 

She looks far more taken aback by her newfound knowledge of magic than she was about finding out her house got shot at, but Papyrus knows Sans compartmentalizes a lot, so he assumes she’s doing the same. It stresses him out.

“That’s really, really cool.”

He smiles, “YES! AND THE MORE A MONSTER RESIDES IN AN AREA, THE MORE MAGIC IS DRAW THERE, AND ACCUMULATES. SANS IS ACTUALLY WORKING ON A THEORY ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW, SINCE WE’RE SEEING IT HAPPEN IN REAL TIME ON THE SURFACE!”

She blinks, “Okay, you and your brother are literally the coolest people I’ve met in my entire life.”

Papyrus can’t help but preen under the praise, taking advantage of her wonder and, “SO YOU’LL TAKE THE BED THEN? YOU’LL GET TO SEE THE COOLEST-MONSTER-EVER-TINY-TRADEMARK-THINGY’S ROOM!”

It makes her giggle enough to agree, and he takes it as a win. 

He would’ve shown her his room anyway, but Papyrus is so happy she cares. Because he cares. So, so fucking much.

…

Maybe she can handle this. Maybe he can tell her. 

..Next time. Once she can get home safe. Not when she’s stuck with him. 

He loves her too much to scare her like that.

Chapter Text

You and Papyrus eat the cake. It’s surprisingly good considering neither of you are really bakers, but this is a moment where the thought of the matter really counts for you. He made you a fucking cake. A cake. 

Asked you what flavor you wanted and threatened to stalk your non-existent socials for it, even. Just to get to know you. 

You’d been thinking about it. A lot. Especially now, as you’re sitting next to him on the couch, watching a sci-fi movie your dad showed you back when you still lived with him. Before the wreck, certainly. There’s a decent amount of space between you and Papyrus, nothing Hail Mary prude-ish, but respectful. It’s very clear he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. 

He's a good friend. 

It doesn’t stop you from being able to tell he wants more than you being comfortable and friendly. He wants you.  

It’s striking how it doesn’t scare you. You’re in a man's house, no vehicle of your own to leave. There is a violent shooting not twenty minutes away, a short walk from your real home. You’re stuck here for at least the night. That would normally terrify you.

He’s your boss. 

He’s... You’re financially reliant on his like for you.

…

At least, that’s what it would be. That would be your concern. But… You’re really not. You have a lot of money squirreled away in various bank accounts, hidden under floor boards, split between CashApp cards and Venmo accounts. You don’t need this job. You need an excuse for why you have so much fucking money. 

You can't get away with the excuse of being young and pretty too much longer. You used to hate how men would objectify you. You still do, of course, but you can see the usefulness in it. Men tend to see a pretty face and underestimate you. 

Papyrus didn’t.

You’re not sure what he sees. You know you’re pretty, you feel very confident with yourself, but Papyrus is surrounded by supermodels and fit royal guards and you haven’t done cardio since highschool. Besides like… walking. You’re not ugly, but you’re not perfect either. Not that it’s a bad thing, you like you, but you certainly didn’t expect anyone else to like you. Unless they were a little desperate. Or only staring at your tits instead of your love handles and small scars. 

Papyrus has seen you.. Daily. For months. Seen you break down more than once. 

And when he was scared, when he needed… when he needed someone, he looked to you. He didn’t expect you to run away. He trusted you to have his back. And he had yours. 

A team, he’d said. 

And he wanted you.

That’s another perk of the young and pretty thing, especially when you were an underweight teenager running around Bourbon Street wearing crop tops. It made it criminally easy to tell when men were attracted to you. You didn’t think it would transfer with monster men, but you can see the way Papyrus looks at you. 

You noticed that he calls you ‘dear,’ and ‘ his dear.’ 

You know he wants you. 

You just can’t figure out why.

…

Or if you can afford to let him.

—------------------

Papyrus was worried she’d feel unsafe near him. He was wrong, and so happy he was wrong, clearly, as she was curled comfortably next to him. They weren’t touching, but he could feel her warmth. 

He wants her. But he knows better than to ask her here, at the very least. Maybe… Maybe next time. 

It’s much later into the night, after he’s re-ushered her to take the bed, that he shows her around his bedroom. She grins at the race car bed immediately, nudging him, “That’s cool as fuck.”

Papyrus preens, “SANS BUILT IT FOR ME UNDERGROUND. WE BROUGHT IT BACK UP AFTER THE MOVE.”

Cherry almost pouts, smiling still, “That’s so sweet, what? I didn’t know Sans did woodwork?”

He laughs softly, “HE DIDN’T. OR… WELL. EVERYONE UNDERGROUND HAD TO GET VERY D.I.Y AS HUMANS SAY! I WOULDN’T SAY I’M A WOOD WORKER EITHER, BUT I STILL BUILT OUR SHED, THIS BOOKSHELF, AND A GATE UNDERGROUND.” He gestures lightly to the bookshelf to his right, filled with action figurines from various genres and franchises.

Cherry checks out the shelf on que, not touching anything. “Papyrus, that’s really impressive. You made a shed? From scratch?”

Papyrus smiles, “I ALSO MADE A SENTRY POST. The real challenge was making sure the snow couldn’t get inside the shed.”

She pauses from where she’s thumbing through his vinyls, “Snow. Uh, Snowdin, right? That’s where you’re from, I remember that. I know you were trapped there, but was it ever a nice place to be?”

He ignores the warm feeling in his chest that she remembers, but can’t help but feel seen. “IT WAS! I WAS BORN IN HOTLAND, I THINK, BUT I HAVE LITTLE MEMORY OF BEING THERE. MY FATHER LOST CUSTODY OF ME AND SANS WHEN I WAS…. I THINK TEN, AND WE MOVED TO SNOWDIN. I ONLY HAVE GOOD MEMORIES THERE!”

Cherry looks a little startled, but nods, “I’m.. glad. That it wasn’t bad for you.”

——————————

It occurs to you in short order that Papyrus has literally never mentioned his father before this moment, that monsters have custody battles, and that you really respect Sans.

Just babysitting your cousins was walking birth control, and while you’re sure monster children are very different to raise than human, Sans would’ve only been about twenty years old while raising Papyrus on his own in a new town. Building race car beds.

You’re going to buy that man tickets to something at the literal moment you find out something he likes. 

Papyrus doesn’t seem all that sad to be taken from his father’s care, and you guess there’s a reason he was taken in the first place. It makes you feel kind of sick to think Papyrus may have had similar experiences in childhood as you.

He didn’t deserve that.

Papyrus shrugs, “IT WASN’T HORRIBLE UNDERGROUND FOR MOST MONSTERS. WE HAD FULL LIVES AND JOBS AND HOMES! JUST NO SUN. WE WERE A COMMUNITY!” He smiles tapping at the monitor on his desk across the room. It’s a Predator and you smile because you had a similar one as a teen, your Acer still collecting dust on your bed back in LA. You didn’t want them to track your IP address.

You nod a little, “Sounds a bit like where I’m from. Did you like it here because it snows?”

Papyrus blinks. “I ACTUALLY DON’T CARE FOR SNOW! IT’S OKAY, SURE, BUT THE SNOW GETS IN MY SKULL.”

You cringe weakly at the thought of snow in your head. “Yeah. That sounds… ew.”

The skeleton laughs softly, leaning on the wall of his room, “QUITE UNPLEASANT, YES.” There's a content lull in conversation in which you try to think of how you can ask about Papyrus’ father in a way that’s both professional and friendly, before he startles, “IT’S LATE! I SHOULD BE LETTING YOU REST! TAKE MY CLOTHES IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE MORE COMFORTABLE! I DOUBT ANYTHING BUT MY SHIRTS WOULD FIT, CONSIDERING I AM VERY TALL, BUT MY SHIRTS ARE QUITE COMFORTABLE IF YOU DO NOT FIND WHAT YOU ARE WEARING AS SUITABLE SLEEPWEAR! YOU! GO TO BED! GOOD NIGHT, DEAR!”

He scurries out of the room, and you stare at the shut door for a moment before giggling to yourself, nosing around his drawers to steal a shirt, even if just to see his expression in the morning. Will he be shy? Flushed? Nervous?

Flirty?

You pick an old white one with what looks like the royal Deltarune on it. You wonder if it was the shirt he wore while in the guard, which will never not be odd to you, because you can’t see Papyrus having the capability to hurt someone. The shirt is cotton and soft to the touch, so you switch your shirt out for his, folding your own to rest on the hood of the car bed. 

Race car bed. Papyrus is so silly, you fucking love it. What a light to your life he is. 

…

Okay. Down bad, I see you.

You settle into the bed, under fresh sheets and clean blankets. You blink, curiously sniffing the top blanket. It smells vaguely of Papyrus and of the dryer sheets you remember your mom being allergic to.

You smile softly.

Everything felt so.. domestic. Even if you’re unsure if dating Papyrus would be a good idea, seeing as he’s your boss and best friend (only friend. Your other friends think you’re dead) it does feel nice to be wanted.

And that’s the thing.

He wants you.

…

You’ll call your Dad soon. 

You need to make sure you won’t get Papyrus assassinated before you can consider getting with him. It’s your job to protect him. 

You think it’s your most important job you’ve ever had.

—————————

Papyrus stays up, watching the house. He knows the neighborhood he’s in is decently safe, but if he was nervous about getting shot, he’d appreciate her looking out for him, even if there was nothing to worry about.

And he’s worried. For her.

Because he’s spent his time living in fear. And his soulmate of all people doesn't deserve that.

Papyrus does the dishes from the night before, practically sterilizing his kitchen just to do something with his hands. 

He barely realized it was morning until he glimpsed the sunrise from the living room window.

Papyrus stands and watches it for a few minutes. It never gets old.

After cleaning the living room as well, he plops on the couch for a total of seven seconds before he gets back up, deciding to make breakfast. He figures French Toast is a safe bet, considering she never mentioned any allergies relating to the ingredients, though he will warn her either way.

He finishes not long before she comes down stairs, quietly yawning and absentmindedly fixing her hair. She’s not wearing makeup, and while he likes the bright colors and glam that comes with her style of makeup, he cannot help but find her achingly beautiful.

Her lashes aren’t as dark as usual, but he finds they compliment her face well, and the light blue under her eyes make her look all that more human, with layers and biology and cells that disintegrate when they get too hot. And brains that eat themselves when they don’t get enough sleep. Humans are so odd and foreign and incredible and resilient and fragile and he wants to know all of her.

But for now, he waves gently to her, quietly offering a plate of still-hot French Toast. He knows his voice can be too loud in the mornings.

She smiles sweetly, and he notices that she’s wearing one of his older shirts, one he’d gotten as a teenager with overly lanky limbs and too-skinny bones as even with Sans giving him every meal he could, he was a little underfed.

Papyrus will never forgive his father for that. Sans is still so achingly small. Sans should’ve long reached at least shoulder height, or something. 

He refocuses his attention on Cherry, and blinks. OH.

Oh, oh no.

He should’ve literally never offered his closet. Curse his politeness! Because! Haha!

It’s too big on her, fitting her a little more like a dress or something, it just barely flashes the curve of her collar bone, which he’s seen plenty of times before, but it feels a tad different when she’s in his house, wearing his clothes, and being offered his food. And showing off bone structure.

This woman is going to fucking kill him and she doesn’t even know it.

——————————

You’re torturing this man and it’s hilarious. 

You watch as orange-pink magic rises to his cheekbones, and his expression grow vaguely panicked as his eyelights drop to… your collar? You mentally shrug, but find it flattering anyway, because while your tits look great, it feels nice to have another part of you admired.

He doesn’t look bad either, freshly showered and in incredibly casual clothing that has you feeling some type of way because you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in something other than jeans or slacks, and low rise sweats and a baggy tank top was… trying on your self-restraint.

Papyrus clears his throat, his blush getting worse as he silently offers you a plate of—

“Holy shit, Pain Perdu?”

Papyrus blinks, appearing to be startled out of his attraction, “PAIN PERDU?”

You blush. You haven’t had someone make French Toast for you in actual years, which is surely what had you switching languages. Your grandmother used to make it for you all the time, and she always called it pain perdu. You wish you could remember her voice, but you still have her spirit.

“Uh, it’s French toast. Where I’m from. It actually translates to Lost Bread, which is kind of funny, but my Granny always called it that.”

—————————-

“LOST BREAD. I LIKE THAT!”

He hadn’t realized it was called something different in different places, but it’s a small glimpse into her life before she moved here and he cherishes it. 

She smiles and accepts the plate into her hands, sitting at the counter to eat it. “It’s French. Pain Perdu, I mean. Well, Cajun French, at least. It’s pretty much only spoken in Louisiana, but it translates easily to normal French and Canadian French.”

Papyrus grins, leaning on the counter, “THAT’S REALLY COOL! UNDERGROUND, PEOPLE FROM DIFFERENT AREAS HAVE DIALECTS, BUT FEW MONSTERS LEARNED DIFFERENT LANGUAGES.”

She takes a bite out of her French Toast, chews and swallows politely with a hand over her mouth, “That’s cool! I don’t think I’ve really noticed any monsters speaking in different accents yet, other than King Asgore, but I assumed it’s because he’s royalty.”

Papyrus giggled, shaking his head, “THAT'S BECAUSE YOU MAINLY KNOW PEOPLE FROM SNOWDIN. ME, SANS, GRILLBY, DOGARESSA AND DOGAMY ALL LIVED IN SNOWDIN. UNDYNE GREW UP AND LIVED IN WATERFALL, BUT WATERFALL IS KIND OF… I GUESS HUMANS WOULD DESCRIBE IT AS RURAL? THEY HAVE A GOOD POPULATION, BUT THEY WERE PRETTY SPREAD OUT, SO THEY EITHER HAD A THICK WATERFALL ACCENT, OR TOOK ON THE ACCENT OF WHEREVER THEY LIVED CLOSEST TO! AND FLUFFYBUNS IS FROM THE CAPITAL, OR NEW HOME, BECAUSE HE'S HORRIBLE WITH NAMES, AND HAS A CAPITAL ACCENT! Theirs IS MUCH MORE NOTICEABLY DIFFERENT THAN A SNOWDIN ACCENT THAN SOMEONE FROM ANYWHERE ELSE BECAUSE OF THE DISTANCE BETWEEN AREAS.”

She sat up excitedly, “How big was the Underground for that to happen?? Usually people just in the same area code will share distinct accents, but they’re pretty similar even over state lines depending where you’re from.”

Papyrus shrugs, flexing his shoulder blades against his back, “I DON’T KNOW THE MILES, BUT I REMEMBER IT BEING LIKE A TWO OR THREE HOUR WALK FOR FRISK, THOUGH THEY TOOK THE STRAIGHTEST ROUTE.”

Cherry blinks, “That’s crazy! I don’t know why I expected it to be smaller! I guess I assumed that the government would have seen a giant cave and looked into it.”

——————————-

He’s torturing you. You’ve never been attracted to bone structure before, but Papyrus sure knew how to wear a loose tank top, and his little shrugs and the way he leans against the counter could be seen as deliberately suave if you didn’t know it was Papyrus.

Learning about the Underground is really cool though! 

Papyrus smiles weakly, “YOU’D BE SURPRISED. THE UNDERGROUND IS OPEN TO MONSTER VISITORS AND GUESTS, IF YOU'RE CURIOUS, I COULD SHOW YOU AROUND SOMETIME.”

You catch the inkling of dislike for the government, but don’t mention it, because you don’t particularly like the government either. “I’d like that.”