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Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Knife to Meet You

Summary:

This was a long wait... I'm sorry. Hopefully it was worth it.

Notes:

Trigger Warnings:
-Murder
-Brief violence
-Brief loss of agency
-Hallucinations (well not quite)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

     Papyrus, you, Gaster, and Red crowd into the elevator.

    “Red, why are you taking the elevator? You can just shortcut down the steps,” you question.

    “What, I can’t spend some time with the posse I’m guarding? I see you, princess. All business, no leisure,” Red teases.

    “I just figured you’d be uncomfortable,” you shrug.

    “Joke’s on you, sweetheart. I’m always uncomfortable,” he grins. “So how are rides or whatever gonna work? Because if the plan is to crowd onto Y/N’s shitty bike, I’ll go ahead and shortcut.”

    “Keep shitting on Electra and you might wake up with a wrench up your ass,” you grumble and shoot him a dirty look.

     Just the mention of riding a motorbike seems to make Gaster queasy.

    “Not to worry, Red, Wingdings! My car can fit all of you, and we’ll drive up to IKEA in style! It has a dimensional trunk for all of our large furniture needs!” Papyrus smiles, twirling the key on his finger.

    “Wow, you a lawyer or a car salesman?” Red snickers.

    “I believe you are experiencing a feeling humans and monsters call ‘jealousy’! It’s all right; I will allow you to ride shotgun!” Was that a little hint of a smirk on Papyrus’s face?

    Red snorts and rolls his eyelights. “I’ll pass. Your big bro might wanna hold your hand, though. Looks like he’s about to hurl void chunks on your windshield and we haven’t even gone all the way down the elevator yet.”

    As he mentions it, the elevator door opens, and Papyrus leads the way to his car. It’s a bright red-orange, with custom leather seats and legroom for someone of Papyrus’s height. It’s washed, waxed and polished to the nines. You’re still amazed that someone with this level of fastidiousness and attention to detail could even stand to live with someone like…. well, Sans, brothers or not.

“Well, I’m not feelin’ like shotgun, so whaddaya say, old man? Wanna get cozy?” Red grins.

“You don’t… hate me?” Gaster meets Red’s eyes. He’s starting to tear up.

“Turn your eye faucets off,” Red chuckles. “It’s just a car ride. And of course I don’t fuckin’ hate you. I barely---- oh, that prick’s still on your case?!”

“As disappointed and frustrated with Sans’s behavior as I am, I would appreciate you not call him a prick,” Papyrus waggles his finger, and starts up the car.

    Red guffaws, almost spitting out his dog tag. “Holy shit! When the creampuff cusses, you better watch the fuck out!”

    “In all seriousness, I would rather not discuss Sans right now.” Papyrus sighs, then summons a smile. “Let’s just… step away from the apartments for a while. See the sun, see the people! Make Wingdings and Y/N feel at home! Though we do need to get home before it rains in the afternoon.”

    “Hear, hear,” you grin and settle into your seat. Papyrus pulls out of the parking lot. You spot Blue painting a mural on a nearby coffee shop, while a spider similar looking to Muffet talks to him. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but he looks focused and in his element. You don’t think he saw you guys leave, and none of the guys in the car seem to have spotted Blue either.

    As you get further from the apartment building, you see cigarette smoke from the penthouse balcony, and hear faint… classical music from Mutt’s room? You’ll have to look into that later.

    Papyrus puts on some quiet talk radio, and no one protests. Red and Gaster seem comfortable enough. Gaster attempts scientific conversation, but Red seems to dodge the topic, instead talking about his brother, the Royal Guard, and human-monster relations. Papyrus is more than happy to chime in. You choose to forgo the discussion, instead just enjoying the banter, the soft summer breeze in your hair.

 

    The car pulls up to IKEA. Thankfully, the breakfast and lunch rushes are over, so the parking lot is relatively empty. Papyrus gets a spot close to the door, and your motley crew steps out. The cool A/C and bright colors hit you, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

    “I’m gonna need coffee before I embark on this shit. Who’s with me?” Red chuckles.

    “I’ve had enough caffeine for the next 48 hours, thanks to Doctor Nerd’s disturbing coffee portion sizes,” you tease.

    “I drink just as much caffeine as the average scientific or medical professional. You need to step things up, human.”

    “I think Wingdings just told you to get on his level, sunshit,” Red waggles his brow ridges at you. You stick your tongue out at him. He does it back. His tongue is pierced in two places.

    “Actually, the best energy drink is no drink at all! Military energy gum is the way to go!” Papyrus chimes. Red and Gaster stare at him in abject horror.

    “.... I always thought you were too damn energetic for it to be natural, but MEG might be a little excessive, creampuff. Even Boss doesn’t fuck with it.”

    “Nyeh heh heh, that’s because Edge has designated shifts and a somewhat predictable sleeping schedule. I haven’t slept in 72 hours!”

    “Papyrus!” you scold. “Why are you driving? Why are you awake?”

    “Because I do not trust you to drive, human. And this was important. And I… I have had difficulty sleeping in my apartment for a long time. I much prefer my office, but Sans has recently been badgering me about where I go.”

    “Why can’t you sleep, creampuff? Your bro doesn’t seem like the type to keep you up at night.”

    “That’s just the thing… he is. He’s constantly going out into the night without telling me when he’ll come back. If he isn’t doing that, he’s working loud machinery in the lab, which he refuses to soundproof on our side ‘in case something goes wrong’. And if neither of those things are occurring, Blue and Stretch are fighting, or Blue is listening to death metal in his room.”

    “Woah, that’s a lot. How come we don’t hear any of that stuff?” you reply, placing a hand on his shoulder.

    “Most of us have gotten our apartments soundproofed because of all of those things, but apparently Paps hasn’t. Wait a minute… what about you, old man? Can you still hear that shit, too? I don’t remember if Axe and Sugar ever got around to doin’ much of anything to that place other than destroying it.”

    “I can hear everything. Though compared to being physically incapable of any sleep, it’s an improvement.”

    “How’s that even work? Eventually you gotta get tired,” Red questions as you file into the food line.

    “The VOID has too much information passing through it. I couldn’t sleep. Both too much and too little was happening at once for me to be able to find rest. So much to learn, and yet… nothing. No background noises, no hum of the office fan, no snoring from my brothers… I had everything I wanted, and nothing I needed.”

    Silence settles over your group; everyone quietly orders their coffee and pastry. You choose a table near the windows. Right as you’re all about to sit, Papyrus gives Gaster a tight, long hug.

    “Oh, Papyrus…. You don’t have to force this. It’s alright. I’m a grown man.”

    Papyrus shakes his head. “I need to try harder for you… for both of you,” he sighs, letting go.

    “Since we’re on the topic of Bluehoodie Vanilla, personally? I don’t think he’s meetin’ you halfway. There’s nothing to try, at least, nothing more than what you’ve already been doing,” Red grumbles.

    “But that’s just the thing. I’ve… I’ve given up on trying to win him over. It’s despicable, but I’m so tired,” Papyrus drags his hand down his face.

    “We know, Papy. You shouldn’t have to go it alone. We’ll find a way to help you,” you sigh and rub Papyrus’s shoulder.

    Red nods.

    “I may not be of much help, considering how much anger he feels towards me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try,” you add, determined.

    Gaster pulls out a notepad and a pencil, and starts to scribble down notes.

    “That’s just the thing, actually! Sans has an avoidant personality. He keeps his feelings inside, though not very well, and he prefers to let problems solve themselves than interfere directly. That is, of course, difficult when the problem turns out to be him. Direct confrontation…. May be the answer. But it has to be done somewhat gently, by an outside source.”

You groan. “I hope you don’t mean me. I’m about as gentle as a bulldozer.”

“Well, human, you’d best begin learning. And I didn’t find you very bulldozer-like on our night at the ballroom… well, until we were rudely interrupted.”

Papyrus and Red both look away, ashamed.

“Anyways, just… show Sans that kindness that you were so willing to show myself, and the others here whom we had forgotten. I believe in you,” Gaster finishes. He takes your hand for emphasis.

    Upon hearing that phrase, Papyrus seems a million miles away.

    “Come on, Paps. Let’s get this party started,” Red nudges him. You put your dishes away and walk off.

    “The first thing every home needs is its center: the couch! So let’s go that way!” Papyrus smiles, a thrilled gleam in his eyelights. Gaster selects a long, black leather couch with a chaise attached. You pale at the price, but Gaster and the others seem to shrug it off. Are they rich? Was it the gold exchange when everyone arrived onto the surface?

    “Wingdings, at least get it in white!” Papyrus begs.

    “White will be more difficult to keep clean,” Gaster counters.

    “Black is going to make your home look like an office!” Paps adds.

    “My home is an office. Black it is.”

    Papyrus sighs, but he knows he’s beaten.

    Gaster selects a long, black and white striped rug, and a light hardwood coffee table. He insists on getting mugs online, but selects minimalistic glassware and silverware. Papyrus insists on him getting a spice rack and at least decent cooking supplies.

   “I don’t know how much you remember from me raising you, Papyrus, but it’s a wonder that my cooking wasn’t what took me away from you both. It’s like watching a car accident in slow motion.”

   “Maybe you can come to my cooking classes!” Papyrus chimes. Each time you wonder if it’s possible for him to look more excited, he blows your expectations away. He’s practically bouncing on his heels. Red is walking alongside you. His face continually shifts from small smiles at Papyrus and Gaster, to looks of longing out the window, or at you. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to say to him, so you impulsively take his hand while you walk. He startles a little, but grabs yours tightly back.

   While Papyrus and Gaster banter over shower curtains, you find a room set and sit on the bed next to Red. No one seems too interested in this display, so you get a little privacy. The walls are deep coffee, and the room has a warm tone to it. A salt lamp is up on a bookshelf, and there seems to be a portable piano in one of the corners. You pull out your phone and take some pictures of the setup.

   “What are you up to now, princess?” Red chuckles.

    “Thinking…. Mutt’s room could really use some TLC. Their whole apartment, really. Maybe a surprise renovation would make the brothers feel a little better about stuff.”

   “I dunno, sweetheart. It’s a lovely idea and all, but won’t Mutt just fuck up his room again?”  

    “Well, his room right now barely feels worth maintaining. It’s kind of hard to foster hope in a space like the one he’s living in,” you sigh. “I just want to help in any way I can, and since I’ll be making a salary again---”

    “Don’t worry about it,” Red stops you.

    You look up at him. He won’t meet your eyes.

    “What do you mean?” you ask.

    “.... Sparkby might try to stiff you. You won’t be makin’ much. Not enough for what you want to do. I’ll cover it, as long as you help me pick the stuff out. I don’t know him too well, and I barely managed to decorate my own room.”

    Your mouth’s wide open at his generosity.

    “You can’t be serious, Red.”

    “I’m a skeleton. I’m dead serious," he winks, then shrugs. "‘S not like I use my money for anything. I just collect on my patents and---”

    “You’re an inventor?” You ask, more amazed with your flatmates by the moment.

    “Eh, nothin’ any of the others couldn’t do. Simple anti-human defense mechanisms, if we fall into another war. They’re designed to be effective without taking a single human life. Involves a lot of gravity magic. It’s really not that interestin’. Since then, I haven’t really been inspired to make… well, much of anything at all. I made the stuff I did so that Boss and the rest of the Guard could have secure headquarters throughout the city without being accused of starting any sorta arms race. My stuff protects a lot of the royal houses too.”

    “Red, that’s so cool!” You insist, despite his flushing. “I saw a lot of your work in my old job, then. I gotta say, it’s really damn effective.”

    Red watches you, curiosity on his face.

    “What was your old job?”

    You stiffen.

    “Last time we fought, you said workin’ for Sparkby wasn’t your first rodeo. So what was?”

    Your hands grip the comforter beneath you.

    “Look, I won’t tell any---- I won’t tell anyone who doesn’t matter. But we gotta know this shit. We’re in charge of protecting ya now. And if…. If your life is gonna be in my hands, I wanna----” He stops.

    “Want to what, Red?”

    “It’s corny as shit. I’m not sayin’ it,” he huffs.

    “Please?” you ask.

    He sucks in a deep breath. His ribcage expands under his jacket.

    “If your life is gonna be in my hands, I wanna hold you tight as I can. I need to know this shit, so I won’t let you fall again.”

    “....Red?” you ask, confused. Where’s this coming from?

    “Look, Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve been so damn distant. I’ve been thinkin’ a lot. Boss and I both have. We let you down. I let you down.”

    “Red, it’s fine. We’re moving past it,” you sigh, touching his thigh.

    “It’s not!” He growls, pushing your hand away. “I broke your fuckin’ trust! And even though I don’t know much about your life before all this, I know how hard it is to live in a world where trust is a rare treasure, a liability. I wanna make it up to you with everything I’ve got, princess. I don’t deserve you touchin’ me, or holding my hand, when I’ve done nothing but make your life worse.”

    You take a couple of minutes to think, before formulating your response

    “I mean---- maybe you did… throw a lot of things out of order. I lost my second job, which I was gonna have to rely on. I lost my apartment and I can’t spend as much time with Muffet as I’d like. I lost Agatha, and some of the other members of the spider family.”

    *You’re not helping.

    I’m trying, Chara!

    “Anyway… I still gained a lot. I used to be a bodyguard for some pretty unsavoury clients, mostly human. Things went south and I had to uproot my life to here. Until I met you guys, I didn’t have any friends in the city other than my landlord’s family. Even after living here for a year, I didn’t have anyone to talk to other than my mom or them when I was upset or scared. I was in an unhappy situation all around. Other than my kids, sometimes I wasn't sure if…. I should wake up the next day.”

    “Princess….”

    “Then you, and Sparkby, and your brother came along, and you set all my frustrations free. I met Gaster, and had to keep him a secret, then we had that fight and---- well, it’s really hard, but it’s given me a purpose. I wanna understand magic, and I want to help you.”

    Tears are pouring down Red’s face. He quickly wipes them away with his sleeve. You’re crying too, and you pull his arm gently from his face.

    “Don’t l-look…” he sniffles.

    You smile at him. “Alright. Eyes shut. Promise.” You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him as tightly as you can. Thankfully, Gaster and Papyrus are wrapped up in what they’re doing, so you get a moment to rest.

    His clothes feel like they haven’t been washed in a while, but it’s not too bad. You bury your face into his neck, and he hides his in yours. There’s a gentle scent of cherry blossoms from him… is that normal? You’d never really noticed it before, and you’d been in close proximity before.

    After a while, he takes another breath and lets you go. “Alright, Y/N. That’s enough feelings for the day. Don’t think I can take much more.”

    “Hehehe, me either,” you grin. “Let’s go get caught up.”

 

    “Ah, you’ve returned,” Gaster smiles. “Did you two go looking for something for Edge?”

    “We were actually just wandering. Sorry,” you apologize.

    “There’s nothing to be sorry about, human! Wingdings and I are actually almost done! We’re arguing over ‘chandelier’ or ‘no chandelier’.”

    “There’s literally no point to having a chandelier in the apartment. There is ample light from the windows, and regular light fixtures are easier to clean. Chandeliers are tacky and unnecessary.”

    “Why don’t we just check the lighting section? If we’re lucky, we can find a modern, efficient chandelier that will be easy to keep clean.”

    “Ey, look at this one. Kind of looks like molecular structures,” Red points up.

    Gaster looks impressed. “Hm, it’s the one for nicotine. I wonder if they meant to do that.”

    “Who’s gonna know?” You ask.

    “Half the apartment building,” Gaster quips, smiling.

    “True. You’re all a bunch of fucking nerds. Let’s try something else.”

    “How about these?” Papyrus points to a set of bubble chandeliers.

    “I’ll hit my head on those. And so will you. Think practically, Papyrus,” Gaster sighs. He doesn’t look all that tired, though.

    You take a moment to think.

    “What if we just make you one ourselves? It’s the best way to fit all your criteria.”

    “You could do that?” Papyrus asks, eyelights glowing excitedly.

    “I mean.... I used to be an art student. My depression kind of crushed those dreams, though. I can make you a lamp, though. The design classes I took were my favorite, besides fashion.”

    “Y/N, that’s amazing!” Papyrus exclaims.

    “Don’t get too excited. There’s reasons I flunked out of school. Also, I’ve got no studio space.”

    Papyrus frowns for a minute. “Well, I know Blue needs a space to work on his endeavors as well. We can just make one, if you need it!”

    “Wh-- Papy! That’s really not necessary! I’ll just rent a space from downtown.”

    “Come on, Y/N,” Red nudges you. “There’s no way the idea doesn’t appeal to ya. Your own studio? Well, kinda. Also… it’ll give ya a better space to… you know,” he mutters.

    Damn it. He’s right.

    “But… that’s gonna be super expensive, and I can’t pay you back for it, and---”

    “Human, this is something I’d been meaning to do for a while anyways. And the only payback I need is seeing you doing things that make you smile,” Papyrus cuts you off.

    You feel like you’re about to cry all over again.

   “Worry not, human! I will not let you down as a host again. Anything you need, just ask, and I’ll do my best!” Papyrus adds, giving you a hug.

    “Thank you,” you whisper.

    “Always,” he responds, and lets you go. “Well, Red, have you selected something nice for your brother yet?”

    “Shit! Ummmm…  casual dinnerware. Boss keeps bitching ‘bout having to use the porcelain.”

    Papyrus rushes to the dinnerware section and passes Red a full set of minimalist, slate-colored plates, dishes and mugs. “Are these alright?”

    “Yeah, these are…. Pretty great, actually. You know his taste better than I do,” Red grins.

    Papyrus takes a bow. "Well, let us hurry and make our purchase. After all, we do not want to get caught in the rain!"

    Despite his admonishment to beat the storm home, it takes you a couple more hours to get all of the furniture to Papyrus’s car, and you order pizza to fuel the extensive amount of setup that you have to do. The beer steins are recycled, much to Gaster’s dismay, but he admits that it’s for the best.

 

    A chill heralding rain gushes through the shattered glass of an abandoned warehouse across the road, blistering into the face of yet another hooded skeleton watching from the windows. The gust carries his hood with it, revealing his face as he curses to snatch it back. His red and green eyelights narrow in annoyance as he returned his gaze through the window, watching the family drive away with a manic grin.

    -They looked happy, didn’t they, Sans?- Another hooded figure lingers behind the Sans. Its ghostly breath rushes down the Sans’s shoulder---- or was it the wind? Sans summons his bone knife and rips into the air behind him.

    “You know I fucking hate it when you hover like that,” The Sans grits his teeth, keeping the smile on his face. Five extra eyelights focus on his companion, but the spectral skeleton is unfazed.

    -You can’t have it both ways, Sans. Either I ‘don’t exist’, or I’m invading your personal space.-

    The Sans’s eyelids squint like an angry cat. It’s the only part of his face that gives anything away. For the spectre, it’s enough. The Sans huffs, and his gaze returns to the now empty parking spot.

    -It’s rather difficult for me to do anything other than hover, when you refuse to let the rest of me manifest,- the ghostly skeleton answers, with a cross of his arms.

    It’s bold today , the Sans notes uneasily.“You’ve gotten awful talkative lately, ‘bro’. But you’ve got nothin’ real to say, so why should I listen?” he turns to face his spectre and jeers.

    -Nothing real, Sans? You are answering back….-

    He stiffens. “That’s not the point, freak.”

    -If you’d like me to cut to my point, then how’s this? Are you really willing to rip apart that human’s entire life for a moment of happiness?-

    The Sans’s smile distorts a bit, as his eyelights scan the building. His phalanges sink into his sweater pockets. The entire jacket is riddled with holes and one of the drawstrings has been chewed down to a thread. He's drawn out of his thoughts by a growl behind him.

    “Who ya talkin’ to?”

    Why is he here?! He spins around, eyes darting with a grin to welcome the intruder.

    “Ah, sniffed out again by the K-9 unit! I was wondering when you’d show your face,” the Sans announces. He gestures to the filthy floor, so dirty that his tracks are clear in the dirt. “Do you prefer ‘sit’, or ‘down, boy’?”

    “Pass,” Mutt looks unimpressed.

    “You’re both getting awful feisty, for the weakest of the bunch,”

    “Both?....” Mutt mumbles.

     Sans leans against the broken window. Glass snags his jacket. “Not sure what you think has changed here, puppy. Matter of fact, you look even worse than when I last met you!” He snorts, but the laugh rings empty in his ribcage. “That guilt’s dissolving you like chalk in vinegar. You look ridiculous!”

    The taller skeleton shrugs, pulling a cigarette from his jacket.

    “You look rattled. Is there something on my face?” The Sans’s eyelights squirm and writhe in his skull, searching for sudden moves. He takes a step closer, then right past Mutt.

    “You know, I haven’t washed this jacket during my vacation. It still smells like your friends…  and Little Boy Blue’s, as well. How’s he doing? Working himself to the bone?”

    Mutt lights himself a cigarette, looking right through the shorter skeleton.

    Why isn’t he paying attention? The Sans scowls, but continues.

    “I miss him…. At least he got indignant. That cute little spirit of integrity rattling around in his heart is quite charming. A very nice addition to my collection… but that would mean I’d have to sweep up that worthless ashtray he drags around with him, and I frankly don’t wanna touch it.”

    “Can’t disagree with you there," Mutt grunts, then inhales. "... Though it’s funny, watching you call someone else a hedonist. Speaks to a complete lack of self-reflection.” He sighs out the last of his smoke,“You really don’t know who you are anymore, do you, Sans?”

    The Sans giggles, “Aww! You sound just like each other, really, it’s funny! But what else do I do on a year’s vacation besides self-reflection? I’m not exactly made of G.... oh, wait, I’m forgetting the gold drops from all your pals.”

    Mutt glares, truly disgusted.

    “Gold drops? She’s flat broke, you fucking rich piece of shit! That isn’t what you’re looking for, and that isn’t who you are. You’re…. something much worse…”

    It only eggs him on further, a Cheshire grin stretching his cheekbones to the limit.

    “That’s right… I know exactly who I am. Christmas Lights, the crazy skeleton, the boogeyman, lights-out, whatever flavor of the month the papers pick. Don’t really care about my latest title, or the speculation about my motives, but…" the Sans’s eyelights shrink down to pinpricks, “let me tell you something, puppy.”

    Lights is suddenly on top of Mutt, forcing cold metal tags into his phalanges.

    “Do you really think I could forget who I’ve become?” His voice is barely higher than a whisper.

    That’s when Mutt sees it.

    A glint of a golden scarf, and a faint afterimage staring vacantly into him.

    “Do you really think I could forget this ?”

    Mutt’s soul pounds in his chest; he can’t get out of the other’s hold, even if he tries.

    “If you’re here to beg for the little match girl’s life… well, you’re pretty good at it, but neither of us are gonna stop shedding dust.”

    Lights summons a bone knife and pins Mutt to the ground by the ribs, narrowly missing his soul.

    “Don’t follow me again, buddy.... Our little partnership is over.”

Notes:

I'm sorry for making you all wait for so long. Thank you to my editors @excellynt and @rnd-injustice for putting up with me.
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