Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7190960.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Undertale_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Mettaton/Papyrus, Undyne/Alphys, Sans/Toriel
  Character:
      Mettaton_(Undertale), Papyrus_(Undertale), Sans_(Undertale), Undyne_
      (Undertale), Alphys_(Undertale), Toriel_(Undertale), Frisk_(Undertale),
      Chara_(Undertale), Asriel_(Undertale), Gaster_(Undertale)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Alternate_Universe_-_Human, Human!tale,
      papyton, Background_Alphyne_-_Freeform, Background_Soriel_-_Freeform,
      Eventual_Smut, Slow_Burn, Dom_Mettaton, Sub_Papyrus, Dom_Papyrus, Sub
      Mettaton, Light_Dom/sub, Top_Papyrus, Bottom_Mettaton, Top_Mettaton,
      Bottom_Papyrus, Topping_from_the_Bottom, Crossdressing, Femboy_Mettaton,
      Fashion_Antics, Mettaton_being_Mettaton, Papyrus_Being_Papyrus, Papyrus
      is_a_slightly_chiller_version_of_himself_though, only_slightly, Undyne
      and_Papyrus_are_friendship_goals, Mettaton_and_Alphys_are_friendship
      goals, Pining_Papyrus, Fanboy_Papyrus, Bad_Bitch_Mettaton, Anal_Sex, Blow
      Jobs, rim_jobs, Hand_Jobs, Teenage_Drama, Slut_Mettaton, Undyne_is_going
      to_be_the_cause_of_my_death, Protective_Sans, Protective_Undyne, Alphys
      is_a_weeaboo_of_course, Sans_is_into_milfs_but_it's_okay_he's_18, Toriel
      is_said_milf, Mettaton_makes_everyone_question_their_sexuality
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-13 Updated: 2017-06-16 Chapters: 8/? Words: 22543
****** Infamous ******
by PixelPunk
Summary
     Papyrus moves to a new high school for Junior year, hoping for a
     fresh start and the chance to finally have friends. What he had not
     anticipated was falling head over heels for Metta, a crossdressing
     gay boy with a notorious reputation. Metta happens to find himself
     intrigued by Papyrus' clueless innocence, and the two find each
     other.
Notes
     Yo, welcome to shameless High School Human Papyton. I will
     occasionally post drawings to accompany certain chapters on what I
     imagine for character design and such, and updating may be sporadic.
     Regardless, I hope you like it. Enjoy!
***** Possibilities *****
“Sans.”
No response.
“Sans.”
No response.
“SANS.”
No response.
That lazy fuck. Papyrus heaved an overexaggerated sigh and slammed the door of
his closet behind him, knowing that Sans could certainly hear him, but simply
didn’t care enough to respond. He stormed down the hallway connecting the two
brothers’ bedrooms and busted through the door, not bothering to knock. Sans
was slouched in the corner, sitting on a pile of blankets and dirty clothes,
and reading some YA science fiction novel.
“Yo.”
“Did your room get dirtier, or am I just more horrified every time I see it?”
Papyrus complained, carefully maneuvering his way through the spectacular mess
and sitting on the corner of the unmade bed. He only went into Sans’ shithole
of a room when it was an emergency.
“Uh, yes.” Sans didn’t look up, but flashed his signature grin.
“What should I wear tomorrow?” Papyrus finally asked, after a long pause where
he rolled his eyes.
“Bro. Don’t you basically wear the same shit every day?”
Papyrus huffed indignantly and flipped his shaggy white-blond bangs back with
his fingers. The nerve.
“Sans! I don’t, I just, have an outfit that I like to wear a lot! You stick
with what works on you! I’m a fashionable dude and you know it, you goddamn
hoodie fucker!”
Sans looked down at the offending article of clothing, paired with his ever-
present gym shorts and slippers.
“They’re comfy, dude, you should try it.”
“The point is… I want to look cool tomorrow. It’s a fresh start! It’s my chance
to make a good first impression! I want them to like me, I want to make friends
here. And I care about how I look. Unlike you.”
Papyrus slumped and looked down at his large, white hands, clasped together on
his pajama-clad lap. Sans may not care. But Papyrus did, and he needed him for
this. He cleared his throat and finally voiced the thought that had brought him
here, in a voice so awfully, uncharacteristically quiet.
“What if I’m alone again? What if my friend quantity… remains stagnant?”
Sans closed his book and looked up at his younger brother, who was still
looking at his hands. He ruffled his already disheveled mop of curls, the same
color, if not the same texture, as his brother, and playfully threw the least
dirty sock in his pile at Papyrus. He was still himself enough to flinch away
and throw back a disgusted glare.
“Bro. They’re going to love you. You’re the coolest guy I know. And, you know
what, you should wear your favorite outfit tomorrow. Because y’know, it’s you,
and you love it. You’ll look great and everything will be great.”
Sans’s big, round eyes, one of them exactly the same dark brown as Papyrus’
eyes, and the other a vivid, striking light blue, unsettled most people upon
first impression. However, Papyrus knew better, and Sans’ unusual eyes brought
him back to earth from the clouds of anxiety that hovered around him.
“Thank you, Sans.”
In the past, between the two of them, it was Papyrus who did the comforting.
But the two brothers had an unspoken agreement not to talk about that, and this
was clearly payment for all the times that Papyrus had helped Sans.
Knowing his job was done, Sans returned to his book, and Papyrus returned to
his room, taking care to shut the door behind him. He meticulously picked up
the various outfit combinations presented on the floor and hung them up neatly
in his closet, then took out the aforementioned clothes that he knew and loved:
black skinny jeans, red lace-up boots, a worn, fitted white t-shirt with an
abstract black symbol on one side, and his treasured red scarf. He thought of
his favorite outfit as a sort of battle armor, as he felt that he could take on
anything in them.
As he got ready for bed, Papyrus had time to think about what was to come
tomorrow. As self-assured and confident as he seemed, sometimes, Papyrus truly
envied his older brother. Sans had a trait that allowed him to adapt in any
situation: the ability to simply not care. Meanwhile, while Sans did not care
enough, Papyrus cared too much, and this was what often doomed him. Ironically,
Sans’ easygoing and relaxed nature led people to gravitate towards him, and he
was naturally charismatic, despite not caring whether or not he was.
And I care too much. I try too hard. And despite that I’m the one who actually
cares whether or not I’m popular, I’m the one who’s alone.
Well, technically, since they were both starting in a new school, there was
currently a blank slate. A chance to even the score. Maybe Papyrus would make
more than one friend. Maybe he would finally be popular. Maybe he might even
get a date.
Papyrus was grateful for Sans’ encouragement, and pulled himself out of his
reverie. It wasn’t like him to wallow. Instead, he thought to himself, that
maybe things would take a turn for the better.
 
~ ~ ~
 
“Alphys, darling, help me pick out what to wear tomorrow.”
Metta was lost in the depths of his enormous, walk-in closet, rifling through
his unending collection of clothes, while Alphys was curled up on his fluffy
pink bedspread, scrolling through Tumblr on her phone. “Primadonna Girl” by
Marina and the Diamonds was playing softly in the background from Metta’s
glitter-soaked speakers.
“Even if I do help you, you’ll- you’ll just d-disregard everything I say and
pick something out yourself.”
“Hmmm. True.”
“A- and, uh, you’d have to be truly desperate to come to me for fashion
advice?”
“Also true. But, sweetheart, you could always let me give you a makeover. Come
on, the offer still stands!”
“That offer has been standing since middle school and I’m n- not about to let
it sit down anytime soon.”
“Aw. Don’t you trust my fashion expertise?”
Metta emerged from the closet, wearing nothing but a tight black t-shirt and
black silk boxer briefs, to throw a pile of clothing onto his pink rug and bat
his eyelashes at her.
“Metta! D-don’t play dumb, I couldn’t wear one of your slutty outfits even if
you paid me to do so, they obviously look good on you, is that even a question,
just- just not on me, okay?”
He laughed.
“I know, honey, I’m fucking with you. Don’t blow a circuit, Alphy.”
Teasing his best friend until she was a flustered mess was one of his favorite
activities, because it was so easy to get her riled. She grumbled
incomprehensibly and Metta pressed her further.
“Wouldn’t you want to know what it would be like to dress like one of those
anime characters you always draw half-naked?”
She tossed her phone aside and gestured wildly towards her baggy white
sweatshirt and grey sweats.
“T-that doesn’t mean, I, I mean, I would never wear that stuff in public! Fuck
off!”
Metta smirked and sat back onto the bed, crossing his bare legs and sighing.
“Regardless, it’s another year of turning heads for me. I need an outfit that
reflects that.” He got up and twirled around the room like he was waltzing with
himself.
“I think it’s another year of being trapped in high school. There’s nothing to
celebrate.”
Metta ignored her and grabbed his pink feather boa from the pile, throwing it
around his neck.
“I don’t appreciate your negativity, darling.”
She snorted. He knew she wanted so badly to tell him he looked ridiculous, but
they both knew that it would do nothing to stop him. She had long since learned
that his drama could not be contained by any means. He rifled through the pile.
“I’m thinking something that says, “I’m a bad bitch who cannot be touched.’”
Alphys’ lips twitched.
“S-setting a good first impression for the new freshman, huh?”
“I worked hard for my notoriety.”
He laid seductively on the ground, one hand under his head, the other grabbing
his leg and pulling it up to the ceiling, showcasing his flexibility. Alphys
picked up her phone again, trying not to stare at the display in front of her.
“Hmmm… I wonder how many straight boys I can convert this year.” He moaned in
an overly dramatic, breathy bedroom voice. His leg was still stretched up in
the air, with the arm that wasn't under his head wrapped around it, resting it
in the crook of his elbow. He traced his plump lips with his thumb as he spoke,
putting on a show. Alphys kept her eyes on her phone screen but blushed
slightly anyway.
“All of them, if you wear your leather pants.”
***** Anticipation *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Papyrus studied his handsome face in his rear-view mirror, his golden-brown
eyes bright with anticipation and his blond eyebrows knit together over them.
“Find your chill, Papyrus.”
“You know I have none.”
Sans grinned and hopped out of the passenger side of Papyrus’ red convertible,
slung his enormous backpack and trombone case over his shoulder, shoved his
hands into the pockets of his faded blue hoodie, and without further ado,
sauntered off through the school parking lot without a care in the world.
Papyrus had no idea how 5’4 Sans could look confident while carrying a trombone
case almost his entire size sticking out of his bag.
Papyrus swore under his breath and tried to force his face into a relaxed and
nonchalant expression. No, that wasn’t working. He needed to be himself.
Yes. This is going to work. I’m cool. I’m the coolest guy Sans knows, and he
knows a lot of people. I’ve got this.
He pulled himself out of his prized car on long legs and stretched, gazing at
the maroon brick building filling up with teenagers. He had to go find her, the
reason why he was initially excited to be here.
As soon as he confidently pushed through the glass doors, he was immediately
assaulted by a massive force with a shock of red hair. He didn’t even have time
to react before he had the absolute life squeezed out of him, possibly breaking
several ribs in the process. He was released, gasping and wheezing, when
suddenly a familiar face came into view, grinning cheekily.
“Undyne!”
“Hey, you big fucking nerd!”
Papyrus was seeing his best friend for the first time without a shitty webcam
between them, which, he quickly realized, didn’t do justice how horrifyingly
intimidating she was. She was several inches taller than 6’0 Papyrus, and
though she was lanky and thin, her exposed arms rippled with muscle, wearing a
black tank top, jeans, and combat boots. Her tanned and freckled skin was
marred with a variety of scars all over, the biggest being the huge pink gash
over her right eye. Her long scarlet hair was pulled into its usual ponytail
and her catlike yellow eyes were scrunched with excitement as she scrutinized
him.
He could only gape at her until he found his voice.
“Um, Undyne, you’re much scarier in person. How are you so tall?”
She cackled loudly and slapped him across the back, making him stumble forward
a bit before he caught himself.
“Impressed? I told you I could kick your ass, didn’t I?”
The students piling in through the doorway were watching the display as they
walked past, with a mixture of fear, admiration, and curiosity in their faces.
Papyrus noticed that though everyone gave Undyne a wide berth and appeared to
be scared shitless by her, some offered head nods and greetings, showing that
she was well-known and respected around here.
Papyrus felt much more at ease in the presence of someone as cool as Undyne.
Surely, being her friend would give him some credibility around here, right?
The two had met about a year ago on the Internet, quickly grew close, and had
been texting and Skyping ever since. And when Papyrus’s father told him that
they would be moving to Undyne’s hometown for his work, Papyrus and Undyne had
rioted, rejoicing at the chance to be friends without screens between them.
“Since we’re talking about appearances, here, Papyrus, how in the fuck are you
so pale? You’re practically glowing. Do you catch on fire in sunlight or
something?”
Papyrus giggled, his unusual laugh attracting the sidelong glances of a few
people as the two stood in the depressingly grey hallway together.
“My brother and I are both albino. The strange thing is, both of our eyes
failed to receive the memo. If you asked my dad about it, he would tell you a
lot of science things about genes and stuff.”
“Okay, that makes sense. Still, the webcam didn’t really show how white you
are.”
“The webcam also failed to capture how…” Papyrus gesticulated frantically,
searching for the right words.
“…you look like you could kill a man with your bare hands?”
Undyne gave a fake sniff and wiped away an imaginary tear.
“That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten, nerd. Now, let’s go get our
schedules.”
The pair collected their schedules from the counselor handing them out for
juniors and eagerly tore them open to compare the results.
“Alright! We have history, pre-calc, we’ll have lunch together and… you’re in
AP English? Fuhuhu, good luck with that.”
Papyrus puffed up his chest.
“I’m excellent at English! I help Sans write essays all the time!”
He sniffed.
“In exchange… ah, he helps me with science and math.” He said in an octave
lower.
“Fuhu, I’m shit at everything in school except gym and beating up douchebags!”
Undyne exclaimed cheerfully and threw her excessively long arm around Papyrus’s
shoulder.
“Undyne, B’s and C’s couldn’t possibly be qualified as ‘shit.’ You’re average.
Sans gets C’s and D’s simply because he’s too lazy to give a fuck! He’s
brilliant too, it’s such a waste.”
They had about fifteen minutes to kill before class started, so Undyne led them
to a bench that hadn’t already been occupied, with a good view of the entrance
and all the students milling around. Even if it was occupied, Papyrus doubted
that anyone would dare to not give up their seat for Undyne. He was suddenly
struck by how unspeakably glad he was that he had her friendship.
“Whatever, I only get B’s and C’s because Alphys helps me, she’s great at
school… and stuff.”
Undyne’s face softened and she got a slightly dreamy look in her eye. Papyrus’s
face lit up before Undyne realized her error and blood rushed to her cheeks.
“Oh yeah? Stuff? Like what? SMOOCHING, PERHAPS?” Papyrus practically shouted
the last part, leaning forward animatedly.
Undyne hurled her army backpack directly at Papyrus’s face, who luckily dodged
it right in time, chortling gleefully.
“Fuck off, you stupid twat. You know that me and Alphys are JUST. FRIENDS.” She
hissed venomously, her mottled face red with embarrassment and anger.
“Speaking of which, when will I get to meet her? I want to know if she’s worthy
to be the object of your affections… Nyeh heh heh…”
Undyne crossed her arms grumpily, looking like an insolent child as she slunk
down on the bench.
“Ugh, I don’t know, she has lunch with us. If you say anything weird to her, I
won’t hesitate to throw an entire table at you!”
“Of course not! Subtly is one of my greatest strengths.” He was simply
overjoyed at the prospect of another potential friend, if how often Undyne
talked about her was any indication of her character.
Her face was still pulled into an embarrassed grimace, but she quickly sat up
and changed the subject.
“It’s not fair. You don’t have any crushes that I could make fun of you for. I
mean, right?”
Papyrus sighed and looked at his feet.
“Even if I didn’t just move hundreds of miles away from everyone I’ve ever
known, I’ve never had any luck, romantically. I’ve had a few crushes, but they
are always unrequited, and I’ve never… I’ve never dated anyone. I’ve never even
kissed anyone.”
Undyne looked sympathetically at her friend, his tall, broad-shouldered frame
slouched in defeat.
“Aw, dude, cheer up! You’re a good-looking guy, probably, maybe you’ll meet
someone new here.” She said, punching his arm.
“…Or, at least, I think you are, but, uh, you know that’s hard for me to
gauge?” She added unhelpfully.
Papyrus mussed his shaggy white locks thoughtfully.
“You’re not attracted to shoes either, but that doesn’t mean you cannot tell if
a pair looks good. For example, I’m fairly certain I’m not attracted to
females, but I know that Alphys would be quite lucky to have you.” He said,
looking innocently at his friend that he so admired.
Undyne was speechless for a moment, before grabbing Papyrus roughly and pulling
him into an affectionate noogie. Papyrus laughed before quickly taking out his
phone to gauge the damage to his hair, running his fingers through the mess
until it looked acceptable again.
“Papyrus, you’re a good person. The only problem is that I wear the same shoes
every day and I actually can’t tell if a pair looks good. Nice analogy,
though.”
Papyrus looked at her maroon combat boots, which were beat up, covered in mud,
and had many questionable holes and stains.
“You’ve got a point there.”
“Whatever, you know, Papyrus, any dude would be lucky to have your cinnamon
roll-ass, too. Now that you’ve got a new dating pool going, who knows what
could happen?” She said, opening her phone to absent-mindedly check Twitter.
“Yes, I suppose…” Papyrus glanced around him, over to the entrance and the
glass doors, only to completely freeze and lose whatever thought he been trying
to formulate.
The double doors were pushed open by two hands, and a pair of feet, walking
with purpose, moved elegantly through them. The soft clacking sound of high
heels permeated the entrance hall, and attached to them, was, without a shred
of doubt, the hottest boy Papyrus had ever seen in his life.
Pink high heeled lace-up booties… impossible legs swathed in black leather, so
tight it looked like it had been painted on… a loose pink crop top… a black
leather choker with a heart center…
Those legs. Those impossible legs. They were so long… the shapely calves curved
into even shapelier thighs, round and thick, and those hips, they were
impossibly wide, curving into his narrow, exposed waist… widening at his chest,
widening more at his broad shoulders… long, toned arms, elegant, long-fingered
hands, with hot pink nail polish on. He was a symphony of curves.
That face. The face of a sultry angel in devil’s clothing. Heart shaped,
curving into his smooth yet angular jawline… Sinfully full, pink lips, with
just a hint of a smirk playing on the edges… Smooth, flawless skin, like creamy
satin… straight, round nose. Gorgeous hair, the kind that simply doesn’t happen
in real life, and yet here he was, with shimmering, silky, jet-black locks that
almost touched his shoulders but not quite, wavy, perfectly styled, with his
long sideswept bangs falling over his left eye. And oh, oh, his eyes… the one
eye that was exposed was dark, twinkling, and full of promise. Lined in
flawless black winged eyeliner, lightly smoky eyeshadow, and thick eyelashes,
with an arching brow above it.
The beautiful boy sashayed into the entrance hall, his six-inch platform heels
carrying him effortlessly. He carried himself with his shoulders back, head
thrown up, and his impossible hips swaying, effeminate and confident, as if
daring anyone to challenge him, paired with a mischievous yet knowing
expression. The way he walked was downright hypnotizing.
The beautiful boy stopped and leaned against the drab brick wall, pulling his
phone out of his pink messenger bag, which he then dropped next to him and
pulled up one of his impossible legs to prop against the wall. He busied
himself with his phone, but at the same time, he looked as if he was posing for
a photo shoot, simply begging to be looked at. He seemed to say, without words,
I’m gracing you with my presence, so go ahead and look, but you can’t touch.
Papyrus was lost. He only came to from his mesmerized staring when the
completely forgotten Undyne punched him in the shoulder, hard. The bruising
pain forced him to shake his head and tear his eyes away from the gorgeous
specimen across the room, freeing himself from the spell. He looked around and
noticed that almost every student was staring, transfixed, at the boy, too.
They looked confused, jealous, conflicted, shocked, knowing, smug, but the one
thing that they all couldn’t escape was an inexplicable admiration in their
eyes. When he looked specifically at the guys in the room, interestingly
enough, Papyrus noted that older boys seemed uncomfortable and skittish all of
a sudden, while younger boys stared hungrily without abandon.
Papyrus turned, slightly punch-drunk, to Undyne, who looked extremely annoyed
with the events currently unfolding.
“Who…Who is that?” Papyrus murmured desperately, his eyes helplessly trailing
back over to the picturesque scene not fifty feet in front of him.
Undyne scrunched her nose in disgust, yet, begrudgingly looked over to the boy
in question. She turned back to Papyrus and grabbed his face, forcing him to
look at her and not him.
“Papyrus. Don’t.”
“What?”
“Just don’t. Don’t even think about it. That… over there, is nothing but
trouble. I’m saying this because I care about you. Just… don’t. Kapiche?” She
said in a low, urgent voice.
The bell rang. Undyne unceremoniously grabbed her bag, gave Papyrus another
stern look, and left him with another “Don’t” by means of a goodbye. Papyrus
looked back at the wall where he was leaning, only to find that he was gone.
Papyrus was left alone on the bench, wistful, dazed, and hopelessly confused.
Chapter End Notes
     For anyone curious, here are links to what I imagined for Metta's
     outfit in this chapter. And I'm sure you can all figure out who Sans
     and Papyrus's dad is in this fic.
     http://www.maykool.com/fuchsia-lace-up-platform-high-heel-booties-
     022278.html
     http://www.aliexpress.com/item-img/Black-PU-faux-leather-cloth-
     mosaic-women-s-skinny-pants-pencil-pants-trousers-tight-leather-
     pants/1046737162.html
     http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=32726231
     https://www.etsy.com/listing/234853037/sale-heart-faux-leather-
     chokers-tumblr?ref=market
***** Once Upon A Time *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Papyrus couldn’t help it. The beautiful boy was lurking in the back of his head
all through first period… second period… third period… fourth. He smiled at
everyone, cheerfully participated in the cheesy icebreaker games that teachers
forced upon him, and worked diligently in organizing all the syllabus handouts
in his color-coded binders, and yet, the day that he had been focused on for so
long was jumbled by that unexpected encounter.
He wondered what Undyne had meant by that warning. How could a person that
attractive be nothing but trouble? He would have to wait until lunch to ask
her.
After fourth period, he trekked with his fellow classmates down to the
cafeteria, where Undyne was waiting for him, holding a crumpled paper sack. He
raised his own red insulated lunchbox in greeting, once again feeling immensely
relieved he had her to guide him through these unknown territories.
“Come on, dude, Alphys got us a table.” She said before Papyrus could say
anything. She powerwalked through the crowd, which parted like the Red sea
around her. As Papyrus followed closely, he noticed more interested glances
from the people around him, probably wondering what the new guy did to gain the
friendship of such a respected figure, and therefore extending that
hospitality. The thought thrilled him right to his core.
On the far right side of the room was the table in question, occupied only by a
short, chubby girl with tousled shoulder-length golden hair and chunky glasses.
She looked nervous, shifting anxiously in her seat.
“Yo, Alphys!” called out Undyne.
She looked up and straightened her back, smiling happily in blatant relief.
“Undyne! Hi!” responded Alphys in a sweet, girlish voice.
Undyne bounded over to the table, leaving Papyrus in her wake, and slammed her
things unceremoniously across from Alphys. Papyrus followed and sat next to
her, taking in the girl he had heard so much about.
Upon closer inspection, she was everything Papyrus had imagined from Undyne’s
descriptions, in a less glorified way. She had a cute, round face, making her
look younger than she actually was, her round blue eyes blinking anxiously from
behind those thick horn-rimmed glasses. She was wearing a simple white button-
down with the sleeves rolled up, and her nails were chewed and messily painted
yellow. Her lunchbox was adorned with a colorful depiction of an anime
schoolgirl with cat ears, and when she smiled nervously at Undyne again, he
noticed she had a small gap between her front two teeth.
Undyne was right, she was adorable.
Papyrus eagerly extended a hand across the table for her to shake, bright-eyed
and earnest.
“You must be Alphys! I’m Papyrus, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”
She seemed surprised by the gesture, but shook his hand weakly anyway.
“Yes, that’s me, hehe… L-Likewise, of course! Undyne told me about you, too.
Um, I, I like your scarf.” She said, her words lilting as if it were a
question. Regardless, Papyrus beamed at the praise.
“Hey, Alphy, yeah, so this is Papyrus, a.k.a. CoolSkeleton95, he just moved
here let’s all be friends et cetera et cetera. Did you see the newest episodes
of Sailor Moon Crystal???” Undyne cut in, slamming her hands down on the table
and making it shake.
Quicker than Papyrus could have believed possible, Alphys immediately gasped
and her whole face lit up with excitement, shedding her nervous disposition in
the blink of an eye and leaning across the table.
“Oh. My. God, yes!”
Suddenly, the two launched into an intense discussion, their voices colliding
and growing louder, dissolving and moving from one anime to another as Papyrus
sat by, dumbfounded. He didn’t understand a single word they were saying, as
phrases like “dubbed version,” “tsundere trope,” and “crunchyroll premium” met
his ears. Undyne was usually cheerful and boisterous, but the animated way she
was talking and the affectionate look in her eyes was new. It was like the two
girls had forgotten Papyrus was there, as he took out his neatly packed
Tupperware full of spaghetti and a granola bar.
The two had moved on to chatting about something called “Steven Universe” when
it was Papyrus’s turn to interrupt, trying to regain some attention.
“Hey, Undyne, I didn’t know you liked nerdy stuff like cartoons.”
His carrying voice broke their bubble, and Alphys snorted, giggling into her
hands. Undyne shoved him almost completely off of the bench.
“They’re not cartoons, you ignorant shit, it’s called anime, and it’s ART.” She
pulled a Red Bull out of her bag, popped the tab, and chugged the entire thing
down in twenty seconds while Papyrus watched dubiously and Alphys watched
fondly. She belched, crushed the can in her fist, then tossed it into a trash
can twenty feet away, making the shot. The two laughed and offered her high
fives, and a boy at a nearby table shouted “Nice shot, Kobe!”
“U-Uh, Undyne, technically, Steven Universe actually is a cartoon, not an
anime.” Alphys corrected her, spreading Nutella on some weird white balls she
had in her lunch box that Papyrus didn't recognize.
“Oh. Well, whatever, I guess that makes me a nerd. You got a problem with that,
punk?” Undyne exclaimed, pulling Papyrus into a headlock and giving him yet
another friendship noogie.
“Ack, Undyne, please stop doing that.”
“NEVER!”
“By the way, Alphys, what are you eating?” Papyrus asked curiously while fixing
his hair again.
“Oh, it’s Nutella on mochi cakes. It’s might s-seem weird, but I swear it
tastes good.”
“What’s a mochi cake?”
“They’re Japanese and made of rice, right Alphy?” interjected Undyne before
Alphys could answer him.
“Uh, yeah, basically.”
“Fuhu, I love being right.”
Undyne tore into an enormous sandwich filled with multiple unknown ingredients,
and Papyrus decided he didn’t want to even ask when a french fry fell out.
Alphys seemed completely accustomed to this as she sipped at a can of orange
Fanta.
Papyrus suddenly remembered the thing that had been bugging him all morning,
that he had been waiting to ask Undyne about. How could he have forgotten?
“Oh my god, Undyne, I totally forgot to ask you! What the heck was the deal
with that boy we saw this morning? Why did you tell me to forget about him?”
Undyne’s expression turned sour around her bite of food. She rolled her eyes
and swallowed noisily, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, then crossed
her arms. She threw a loaded look at Alphys, for some reason.
“Al, he’s talking about Metta.”
Alphys’s expression changed to what could only be described as, “Oh shit, not
this again.”
“Oh no.”
“Yup. Papyrus caught a glance before school today.”
Papyrus was more confused than ever and growing impatient with their offhand
remarks.
Metta… Metta was his name.
“You guys, I’m lost. Can somebody please explain what's going on?”
Undyne and Alphys exchanged looks. Alphys nervously drank her soda and didn’t
speak.
“Come on, Alphy, he’s your friend! You tell him!”
“I’m t-tired of explaining it, can you do it? Please?”
Undyne scrutinized her, before finally softening in Alphys’s pleading eyes and
turning to face Papyrus.
“Alright. So, uh, yeah. That guy. His name’s Metta. He’s Alphys’s best friend.
And, huh, I gotta say, I’m surprised you could tell he’s a guy, ‘cause most
people don’t.”
Papyrus sat, processing this, before it clicked.
“He’s YOUR BEST FRIEND?” he cried excitedly at Alphys, who looked like she had
been expecting this reaction. Before he could launch into grilling her, Undyne
snapped in front of his eyes.
“Save it, punk, let me finish first. So, yeah, that’s Metta. Weird name, but I
can’t exactly criticize him for that considering my own’s probably weirder.”
Papyrus leaned forward, resting his face in his hands, looking like an eager
schoolboy learning his favorite subject.
“He’s basically famous around here. Everybody at the school knows who he is,
and he makes sure every new kid every year knows who he is, too. The thing is,
you saw how he looks. He doesn’t give a fuck about what people think, as long
as they’re thinking about him.”
Undyne seemed to be struggling with her words, trying to figure out how to
explain this.
“I’ll say the elephant in the room: he crossdresses, right? He’s a fashion diva
and all that shit. He’s, like, the gayest person you’ll ever meet. He’s not
just gay, he’s THE gay. The queen.”
“His closet is the size of a small bedroom.” Alphys added helpfully.
“And, so, the thing is. Obviously, he’s hot, and he knows it. And he, well, a
lot of people think he’s a girl when they first see him. A hot girl. And even
when there are people smart enough to see his flat chest and adam’s apple and
put two and two together, they sometimes think he’s a transgender girl or
something, when he’s not. He’s a boy, just a boy who likes girly things.
Regardless, almost every new boy that comes here, whether that be a freshman,
or just a transfer student, falls in love. And by “fall in love,” I mean their
dicks fall in love.”
Alphys snorted again, dissolving into a giggling fit.
“And, Metta, he makes a game out of it. He gets off on toying with them. He
never actively pretends he’s a girl, but he lets them think it for a while. The
jig is always up when he finally talks. He sounds like fucking Dr.
Frankenfurter from Rocky Horror. Then, he sits back and watches the dudes’
whole reality crumble around them.”
"And, when they actually do know he's a guy, he's still just as hot. He's
responsible for so many guys coming out of the closet, since this is a pretty
accepting school for all that jazz. He just... He flirts with everyone.
Everything with a pulse."
“He-His goal every year, is to, um, basically try to turn as many straight guys
gay as he can.” Said Alphys, picking apart a melted mass of gummy worms from
her lunch.
“Yeah. And, Alphys has been best friends with him since, what, fifth grade?”
“Sixth, he was in seventh.”
“Right. And I’ve been best friends with Alphys since freshman year. And,
y’know, I’ve seen him do it over and over, just from a secondhand perspective.
Every one of the many people that approach him, whether they think he's a girl
or not, meet the same fate. She knows him better than I do, I’m only in close
proximity ‘cause of Alphy.”
Alphys coughed and finally took over.
“What she’s-What she’s trying to say is that, um, I love Metta, of course, he’s
my best friend. B-But, in the nicest way possible, I’m-I’m only saying this
because I know him so well and he uses the term like a badge of honor, he’s a,
he’s a slut. He loves being all sexual and stuff. He breaks hearts every chance
he gets. He’s a good person, p-please don’t get me wrong. And I’m not trying to
say that having, having lots of s-sex is a bad thing or anything that would be
ignorant of me to say. But, as great he is to me and his friends and family,
he’s ruthless with his, uh, suitors, he uses them to boost his ego then tosses
them away. He loves the attention, and the fame, and the reputation he has.
He’s gorgeous, he knows it, he loves it, and he wants everyone to know that.”
Undyne nodded gravely and turned back to Papyrus.
“So, yeah, I should have expected him to catch your attention, I mean, hell, he
catches literally everyone’s. But, I beg you, dude, don’t fall for his little
shtick. You’re so sweet and innocent, he’ll eat you up and tear you apart.”
Said Undyne, grabbing his shoulder.
“B-But, be friends with him, maybe! Because, he really is nice once you get
past all that.” Alphys piped in, smiling at him and offering him a gummy worm.
Papyrus, through the whole speech, had been sitting quietly and listening
intently, absorbing all the new information. He shook his head at the offer and
took a bite of his handmade spaghetti. Finally, he spoke.
“Wow. Metta is really… something.” He said thoughtfully, some of the
troubledness he had been feeling slipping into his voice.
However, he only felt a little bit troubled, and it was soon gone, replaced
with a lighter, stronger feeling. He knew that he should be completely put off
of that beautiful boy now, but he wasn’t. He didn’t give up that easily.
Something unrecognizable was burning deep in his gut, and he felt, more than
troubled, optimistic as always. Papyrus wanted to know this boy. He was certain
that there was more good in him than the others thought, and he was going to be
the one to bring it out of him. Who could be better suited for the job?
“I want to get to know him. Metta. He’s so beautiful, surely he’s just as
beautiful on the inside! And people can always change!” Papyrus declared
boldly.
Undyne looked almost horrified at his reaction, while Alphys looked somewhat
pleasantly surprised.
“Papyrus. No. Don’t do this to yourself, your cinnamon roll-ass deserves
better, he’s just going to treat you like trash.” Said Undyne, exasperated
again.
His grin didn’t budge.
“Well, I’m going to treat him like treasure, and maybe he’ll like me more than
he liked all those previous boys. Maybe all he needs is someone who understands
him!”
Alphys was looking warmly at him.
“Undyne was right about you, y-you’re too pure for this world. I think you
should go for it.”
Undyne stared at her, dumbfounded.
“What???”
“I’m Metta’s best friend, I know him, and I think th-that you might be good for
him. You don’t only care about his body, and you knew immediately, that, that
he’s a he. You’re unique, Papyrus. You should, you should try, at least.”
Papyrus was beaming again at her affirmation, his white cheeks glowing pink
with happiness.
“Thank you for your blessing, Alphys! I promise, I won’t let you down!”
Undyne looked incredulous.
“What the fuck?"
She breathed deeply through her nose, fire in her eyes.
"Fine. Okay. I swear to god. If that bitch hurts you...”
Her voice dropped. Papyrus and Alphys instinctively leaned away from her
murderous expression.
"I'm going to cut his glittery pink dick off with every knife I have."
At that moment, if looks could kill, her face would have committed genocide.
Chapter End Notes
     A little backstory about our favorite beautiful boy. Hold your
     judgments, though, because we'll learn more and more as time goes on,
     since of course Papyrus can't be swayed that easily. Next chapter
     will be Metta's POV, I'll switch around at random throughout this
     fic.
***** Pure As Snow *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
It was another year of turning heads.
Metta sashayed down the halls, positively glowing from the feeling of
everyone’s eyes on him. It was the same old routine in all of his classes: he’d
enter fashionably late, just before the bell rang, and graciously drink in the
stares of classmates and teachers that hadn’t gotten used to him yet, whether
those stares be admiring, judgmental, or confused.
He was charming and influential, and every teacher he ever had adored him. It
sometimes took a while to coax them if they judged him by his cover too much,
but eventually his articulate speech and suave charisma would always win their
favor. The first step was always the first impression, which he had delivered
to his first four classes. Of course, he cast that very same first impression
to his classmates. He was polite and sociable, engaging in friendly small talk
and witty exchanges when the times called for it, but for the most part, he
kept them at arm’s length.
He wanted them to think about him, to admire him, to want to be around him, but
he didn’t want to be obtainable. It was less special if he simply extended his
presence to everyone too much.
And, oh, it was just as hilarious as always watching the few freshmen boys’
faces drain of color when they heard him referred to as “he” in class.
He stopped to lean against a locker in the junior locker bay to text Alphys
before he needed to get to his fifth period class.
How did your romantic candlelit lunch with Undyne go?
Fuck you
I love you too, darling.
Well it was great as usual she had a new friend that just moved here he seems
really nice
Before he could reply, a tentative female voice made him look up.
“Um, hey, I just wanted to say that I really like your necklace.” Said a small,
mousy freshman girl.
He smiled mysteriously and instinctively fingered the black leather.
“Why, thank you.”
Metta watched her, amused, as she started a little at his voice, but apparently
she wasn’t finished.
“Actually, I really like your whole outfit, it’s so cute. Where’d you get it?”
He was happy to oblige her, and launched into a description of where he had
bought his ensemble to his admiring fan, who thanked him when he was done and
scurried off to her group of friends who were watching the ordeal curiously.
Metta winked at them, pleased that his popularity was already extending to the
new freshmen. He had always found that, in his case, being popular with girls
was almost laughably easy. Too bad it was never girls that he was interested
in.
He strode off to his class, not particularly looking forward to Chemistry, but
he knew the class wouldn’t be hard, as he had Alphys to help him.
As per usual, he managed to walk in right as the bell rang, and threw a
dazzling smile at the teacher at the front of the room, a grumpy-looking old
woman who appraised him with her eyebrows raised. On the whiteboard, it said in
a messy scrawl, “Pick where you want to sit for the rest of the semester. I
don’t like seating charts.”
His eyes swept the room, searching for a suitable place to sit. There was a
seat by a geeky-looking Indian girl who was adamantly looking away from him,
and one by… he saw a tall boy, pale as sheet with hair to match, who was
sitting alone, with all his supplies neatly organized around him, and staring
almost bug-eyed at him. When Metta caught his eye, he looked like he was about
to pass out.
Oho, he’s adorable. This could be fun.
And with that, Metta smiled coyly at him and sat himself down at his table. The
cute boy straightened his spine and grinned back, apparently unable to stop
staring. When Metta refused to avert his gaze and simply looked back with
hooded eyelids and his patented seduction face, he fidgeted nervously and
started to re-arrange his pencils.
That left Metta free to check him out as he pleased.
He really was good-looking, and his unusual coloring only added a unique charm.
He had a handsome face, touched with just a hint of boyish innocence, with a
strong jaw, long nose, and bright eyes the color of chocolate and honey, and
his white hair was just the right balance between messy and styled. Metta
stretched back in his chair to look him up and down entirely, not bothering to
be subtle. He had a perfect, fit body, with broad shoulders, strong, toned
arms, and a narrow waist, which, most importantly, he seemed to dress well. Red
boots, dark skinny jeans, white t-shirt, soft red scarf. Good color
coordination. Metta appreciated this, it was so rare to find a boy with a good
fashion sense, let alone an attractive one that was clearly intoxicated by
Metta’s presence.
He imagined taking off that snug t-shirt and running his hands along a chest
that was sure to be just as toned as his arms, and abs that matched.
But, he was getting ahead of himself.
The teacher had yet to start the class, and was still busying herself with
various papers and handouts, and a general chatter filled the room. Metta was
wondering what his strategy for this boy should be when the boy in question
apparently regained the bravery to meet Metta’s smoldering gaze and held out
one large hand.
“Uh, h-hello, my name is Papyrus, Papyrus Snow, if we’re going to be lab
partners I just- figured that we should introduce ourselves?”
Shit, that kind of adorably awkward had to be illegal in most countries.
Metta let a bemused smile hang on his lips and raised his manicured hand to
shake his, humoring him. Papyrus’s hand was a bit sweaty, which made Metta
trill internally at how nervous he was making him.
This was going to be good.
“Hello, Papyrus Snow. You can call me Metta. Metta Valentino.” He simpered a
little, playing it up for the best possible reaction.
However, Papyrus didn’t start, look disgusted, or even look surprised at his
voice reveal. His face just looked even more admiring, which, frankly, almost
didn’t look possible before.
“Wow, you have such a cool voice!” he said enthusiastically, leaning forward
towards Metta.
Interesting. So, Papyrus was never one of those who thought that Metta was a
female. His blatant reverence of him was entirely free of delusion.
Of the many games that Metta played, this was his favorite one.
Papyrus might just be a bigger source of entertainment that he originally
thought.
“Why, thank you. I happen to receive that compliment quite a lot.” Metta said,
purposefully aloof.
“It’s true! You sound like… like… I don’t know. Somebody with a super-cool,
deep and smooth voice.”
Watching Papyrus fumble for words was simply too adorable to offer assistance.
He thought for a moment then lit up again.
“Oh! I know! You sound like that one guy from Rocky Horror Picture Show. By the
way, I think I met your friend Alphys today at lunch. She mentioned you, um,
once or twice.” Papyrus grinned, nervously happy.
“Really, hm?” Metta responded, somewhat vague. He wondered for a moment what
Alphys had said about him, before deciding that if it was anything other than
complimentary, then Papyrus wouldn’t be acting like this. Alphys didn’t approve
of his escapades most of the time, and sometimes she would warn boys before he
got to them. It didn’t really matter since more would always come. However, he
was glad she held off on this one.
The teacher interrupted his musings by calling the class’s attention to her and
starting to talk, no doubt about the syllabus and introducing herself and other
unimportant things. Metta had already tuned her out in favor of inspecting his
perfect nails. At a sidelong glance, he noticed that Papyrus was sitting up
straight with his arms crossed on his desk, attentively listening and focused.
How cute.
Metta hoped that, in addition to worshipping him, Papyrus would also be a
diligent student so that Metta could have it even easier in this class. A loyal
admirer and a cheat sheet all in one, so that he didn’t have to go to Alphys
for help.
The teacher droned on and on, and Metta moved on to distracting himself by
thinking of exactly what he should wear tomorrow to keep Papyrus’s, and
everyone else’s, attention on him.
Finally, she stopped talking and started to hand out the syllabuses, and the
room filled with chatter once more. Papyrus turned his attention back to Metta,
who purposefully stretched forward from his chair and leaned his head on one
hand, letting his shirt expose more of his lithe body and putting his ass on a
better display. He maintained a blasé expression at the same time as he peered
at him. Papyrus helplessly looked him up and down and swallowed, trying to be
nonchalant but failing miserably.
“So, um, Metta, right? Is that your real name?” he said, trying very hard to
keep a conversation going. Metta blinked slowly at him.
“Oh, no, it isn’t. It’s my little nickname that I chose to go by. Although,
honey, ‘Papyrus’ isn’t exactly a very typical name, either, now is it?” Metta
practically purred. Keeping it mysterious, and firing back with teasing to
elevate the tension. Metta found himself impressed by his own artfully crafted
flirting technique (not a rare occurrence.)
Papyrus looked over the moon at the casual pet name Metta dropped.
“I know, right? Weird names are something that you and I have in common, I
guess!” He looked happy to have drawn that conclusion.
“Will you ever tell me what your real name is?” Papyrus added hopefully.
“Hmmm… Maybe someday, honey.” As if Papyrus was ever going to stick around that
long. But he had to keep him on his toes and interested. Papyrus looked just as
eager at the prospect of “someday” as Metta expected.
Metta straightened up and turned to thank the teacher, Mrs. Something-or-other,
when she reached their table and gave them their handouts, and Papyrus followed
suit, overly polite and cheery. He peeked over at Metta while he wrote his name
on it.
“You have very nice handwriting.” Papyrus noted, not beating around the bush. A
quality Metta quite liked. Clearly, this boy didn't have much of a filter.
“Thank you, darling.”
Papyrus beamed once again at the term of endearment. It was cute that he didn’t
seem at all perturbed by Metta’s pet names, as some people did. He was cute.
“So.” Metta stretched out once more and arched his brow.
“You’re new here, hmmm? What do you think so far?” Metta left the open-ended
question hanging tangibly in the air, letting his free hand trace over his
leather-clad thigh. Papyrus tugged at his scarf and had to tear his eyes from
Metta’s legs to make eye contact.
Oh, this is just too easy.
“It’s…. It’s great! I love it here! Everyone is so nice and I’m making so many
new friends!” He was still struggling adamantly to not ogle Metta’s body in
favor of looking at his face, as if he was trying to be gentlemanly.
My God, this boy was the human equivalent of vanilla ice cream with rainbow
sprinkles. How could a teenage boy this pure even exist?
“Oh? Well, I’m glad you like what you see here.” Metta amped it up with the
obvious innuendo, resisting the urge to laugh at Papyrus’s blushing face.
“I’m sure you’ll love it even more once you become… acquainted well enough,
darling.” He was in no way talking about the school anymore.
Papyrus fidgeted but still looked just as blissful. Apparently, the double
meaning in Metta’s words were somewhat lost on him.
“Yes! I hope so. I want to get to know everyone in my grade, and I think it’s
going to be a great year. I already feel like I’m off to a fantastic start!”
Papyrus looked directly at Metta and smiled innocently, completely sincere and
earnest. Metta saw his eyes, scrunched with his grin, warm and inviting.
Something unfamiliar twitched deep within him.
Suddenly, the bell rang, startling Metta a bit. The fifty minute period had
gone much faster than he thought it would.
“Ah! I’ll see you around, Metta! It was amazing to get to meet you!” Papyrus
said brightly and stood up. Somehow, all his things were already packed away
neatly in his bag and slung over his shoulder.
And with that, Papyrus raised a hand in a happy farewell, and was out of the
room before Metta could even respond, or any of the other students could even
finish packing up.
Well. That was… certainly something.
He gathered himself up with dignity and poise, and was the last to leave the
room.
He dimly remembered that it was lunchtime for him. He did what he always did
when he didn’t have the same lunch period as Alphys: headed for the drama room.
He sighed blissfully as he pushed open the door to his familiar sanctuary,
secluded deep in the art wing.
“Hello, darlings!”
“Metta! Hey!”
“What’s up?”
“Hi, Metta.”
The few people lounging around in the room greeted him warmly, and he glowed at
the comforting familiarity of it all.
“Lovely to see you all again. It’s been a long summer.”
Not all drama kids spent their lunch in the room, but a good amount did. It was
the perfect place for loitering thanks to the squishy couches scattered across
the room and a teacher who truly did not give a fuck. For example, the teacher
wasn’t even here this time.
He dropped his bag and headed straight for his favorite couch in the room,
where a pale, sallow boy with dark under-eye circles and shaggy hair dyed
periwinkle and white sat, saving him a seat.
“Hey, Metta.”
“Blooky, you really know how to treat me right.” Metta crooned as he plopped
himself onto the purple velvet couch, leaned back, and stretched his legs
across his cousin’s lap. Metta had long given up on trying to get him to wear
anything except torn jeans, battered sneakers, and alternative shirts. His
stained white pullover and acid-wash jeans today were no exception. Metta had
eventually come to grudgingly respect his signature look, and how his clothes
always seemed to reflect his personality perfectly.
He didn’t even flinch when Metta invaded his personal space, looking into the
distance.
“I still don’t get why you call me that.”
“It’s adorable. I couldn’t think of a way to make ‘Nathan’ into a cute
nickname, so your last name, which is much cuter, had to do. Simple.”
“Other people have started calling me ‘Blooky’ now.”
“You’re welcome, darling.”
“Whatever. I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
Metta ruffled his tangled, damaged hair lovingly, noticing the dark roots
starting to show from underneath the harsh dye. Nathan let him do as he
pleased.
“How has your day been?”
“Fine, I guess.”
Metta nodded at Nathans response and searched his pitch-black, hooded eyes,
making sure his dark circles weren’t any darker than usual. Satisfied by his
examination, he leaned back again to leave him be.
Nathan, accustomed to his cousin’s antics, pulled the chunky black headphones
he always wore around his neck up onto his ears, undoubtedly listening to more
underground indie-electro-swing-glitch- whatever. Metta never could keep up
with his taste in music, it was too confusing.
Usually, he would forcibly join himself into the room’s conversation by now,
catching up with his fellow drama students he’d known for years and
entertaining them with his charisma. But, today, he found himself contemplating
the previous hour.
Papyrus.
There was something so incredibly endearing about that boy, and Metta was
looking forward to pinpointing what exactly that was.
Metta found himself thinking about him, and the way his smile reached his eyes
so perfectly. He could hardly wait to get his hands on him…
Stop it. You’re getting ahead of yourself again.
He certainly was. It was a little unsettling how he kept doing that.
He chastised himself for letting himself think about some boy too much and rose
off the couch to join in the room’s conversation.
Metta had never allowed anyone to get under his skin like that, and he wasn’t
about to start.
Chapter End Notes
     If you're wondering why Metta's perspective is written in a somewhat
     cold and mechanical way, (pun intended), that is intentional, as
     we'll see the most development from our favorite pretty boy in this
     story. Also, because it came up in this chapter, here are all the
     last names of the characters, along with their meanings/origins.
     Sans and Papyrus Snow - Snowdin. Obviously. Not only that, but it is
     also a play on how the brothers are both albino.
     Metta Valentino - Metta's nationality is half french, half latino,
     which is where "Valentino" comes from. I think the meaning behind
     "Valentine" is pretty clear.
     Undyne Bywaters - By water. As in, she lives in waterfall. It's an
     Irish last name, and Undyne is of Irish descent in this fic, being a
     ginger.
     Alphys Determan - Determan-ation. Also, it's a German last name for
     the blond-haired, blue eyed cutie.
     Nathan Blook - A cute name for our cute ghost. Closest I could get to
     accuracy while still being realistic to the "human" thing.
     More will come up later, but I'll keep those under wraps for now.
     Hope you enjoyed!
***** Reflection *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
For the rest of the day, Papyrus was over the moon.
He talked to Metta. He had a conversation with Metta. The most beautiful boy in
the world talked to him, and he was nice! Metta was friendly! Papyrus knew that
Metta had more to give than just incredible good looks, and he just knew that
he was going to uncover all of it. He just knew it.
When the final bell rang, signifying the end of his beginning, he nearly bolted
out the door and to his car. He wasn’t eager for it to end, but he was eager to
tell Sans all about it. He noticed, with a strong bolt of pride, that many
students did a double take at his car, or stopped for a moment to admire it.
Nothing made him happier than seeing all his hard work pay off.
He slipped on his black Ray-Ban sunglasses and waited patiently for Sans,
glowing with contentment. Finally, he saw Sans’ short, stout frame meandering
through the crowd, chatting casually with a few people around him. Completely
at ease and confident, as usual. He raised his hand in greeting when he saw
Papyrus sitting in the driver’s seat of the car.
“Whaddup, Paps?” he said, settling in the passenger seat and throwing his bag
and trombone case into the back. Papyrus winced slightly on reflex at Sans’
flippant treatment of his precious car. He started the car and waited for the
parking lot to clear out so they could leave.
“Hello. Please don’t throw your things, you could scratch the upholstery!”
“Chill, bro. I would never hurt your most prized possession. On purpose. How
would I get to school then?” Sans teased, but all the same, he respectfully
took his feet off of the dash.
“How was your day?” Papyrus asked, eager for Sans to ask the same question so
he could divulge.
“Aw, it was great. Band was fun, met a lot of cool peeps. I put a whoopee
cushion on this kid Chara’s chair, and then her sister almost peed herself
laughing. We’re all buds now.” Sans’ phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his
hoodie pocket to check it.
“Hey, speaking of which, can you give them a ride home? Apparently their mom
can’t pick ‘em up for another half hour.”
Papyrus was speechless.
“Yes, they can ride along, but, Sans, you already have started your stupid
pranks? On the first day of school? And they liked it?”
Sans just laughed.
“It was a riot. You don’t know what band is like, everyone is tight. It’s like
a weird family.”
They were quiet for a moment, then Sans spoke up again.
“Anyways, how’d your day go?”
Papyrus lit up, having forgotten what he had been so excited to talk about
before.
“Oh my god, Sans, it was awesome! I finally got to see Undyne, and she’s SO
cool, she’s going to be such a great best friend, and I met her girlfriend
Alphys, and I love all my teachers and everyone probably thinks I’m great!”
He leaned in.
“But, most importantly, I met the most gorgeous guy on the face of the planet!”
Sans smiled at his little brother’s boundless enthusiasm.
“Oh yeah? What was he like?”
“His name’s Metta and he looks like a fucking supermodel, and he’s going to be
my chemistry partner! He was super friendly to me, too, he even sat by me!
Voluntarily! I’ve seen movies, there’s no way that this won’t end up in an epic
romance. Metta and Papyrus, the most popular, beautiful power couple that this
school has ever seen! I can’t wait!”
As Papyrus was seemingly lost in his fantasy, a look of recognition dawned on
Sans’ face.
“Oh, yeah, Metta, I saw him today, he’s the guy wearing girl’s clothes, right?”
he grinned and ruffled his curls.
“Yes. He’s so pretty, right, Sans?”
“Hah, yeah, whatever, I don’t judge. Man, you really go big or go home, huh?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Papyrus huffed.
“Nothing, bro. You know how to pick ‘em. He’s totally a babe. I mean, I’m
straight and I'd still smash.”
Papyrus reeled and turned slightly red. “Sans!”
“What? It’s true. An ass that unreal doesn’t matter if it’s attached to a guy
or a gal, yo. Anyways, yeah, go for it, bro. He’ll fall for your charms in no
time.” said Sans, scanning the campus for his friends.
Despite the vulgarity, Papyrus secretly glowed at his approval.
“Yeah! Yeah, he will!”
“Yo, there they are. Hey, guys! Over here!”
Papyrus turned to see three kids approaching his car, all three looking
surprisingly different from one another, yet all three wearing the same striped
shirt in a different color. They all looked almost too young to be in high
school.
“Hello, everyone!” Papyrus greeted them as they piled into the backseat
carefully. He appreciated their caution. Sans must have warned them to heed the
car’s value.
“Alright, Paps, so this is Chara…”
Sans pointed at the girl with pale, flushed skin, messy, shoulder-length
reddish brown hair with bangs, and legs covered in scrapes, wearing a green
striped shirt. She smiled deviously and leaned back on her hands.
“…That’s Frisk…”
He gestured toward the Asian girl with tanned, golden skin, dark brown hair in
almost the same haircut as Chara, a bandage on her cheek, wearing a purple
striped shirt. She had a perfect pokerface, but looked curiously around and
waved nonetheless.
“…And that’s Asriel.”
He nodded at the innocent-looking boy with soft blond hair and big blue eyes,
wearing a blue striped shirt. He offered a tentative smile and folded his hands
on his lap carefully.
“And this is Papyrus, guys.”
“Wow, so you’re all siblings? You look so different from each other.”
Chara leaned forward and spoke up.
“Yeah, me and Frisk are adopted. I was from Russia, Frisk from China, back when
we were babies.”
“Oh, neat!”
Papyrus backed out and started cautiously maneuvering through the other teenage
drivers in the parking lot. He tried to continue with the small talk, always
eager for new opportunities to make friends.
“What grade are you guys in?”
“They’re all freshman, hehe.” Sans chuckled as he leaned back in his seat. “How
else would they be as short as I am?”
“I’m even shorter, but I’m hoping a growth spurt hits soon?” said Asriel. He
had a soft, high-pitched voice, paired with his slight frame, which indicated
he had definitely not gone through puberty yet.
“Yeah, our Dad is huge, there’s no way you’ll stay shrimpy forever.” Chara
said. She seemed a bit rougher around the edges than the other two, and Papyrus
could tell she was one of those kids who got into a lot of trouble. Meanwhile,
Frisk had yet to speak, and was just watching the exchange.
“Did Sans really introduce himself by pranking you?”
Frisk finally cracked a smile.
“Yeah, it was a riot. Your brother is hilarious. The teacher hates him
already.” said Frisk matter-of-factly.
“Aw, I thought I made a great first impression.”
“Well, everybody except the teacher loves you.” said Asriel.
Sans turned to Papyrus and pointed in Chara’s vicinity.
“She threw her drumsticks at me, but I dodged them.”
“I almost threw my drum before Asriel stopped me.” said Chara, snorting in
reminiscence as if that was a totally normal thing to do.
“Good times, man.”
Papyrus shook his head in disbelief. How Sans managed to pick up friends with
the way he acted, he had no idea.
“So, where to?”
Frisk gave him a brief set of directions, their house was only five minutes
away from the school. The wind tousled all of their hair as he took off,
turning on the radio to an alternative rock station. He turned down the volume
slightly so that they could still hear each other talk.
“What instruments do you guys play, other than drums?” Papyrus tried not to
convey that he truly didn’t know anything about band.
“I play saxophone. Asriel plays flute.” said Frisk. She spoke quite frankly, it
almost didn’t match up with how very young she looked. Sans immediately jerked
up and grabbed Papyrus's shoulder.
“Oh yeah, Paps, that reminds me! Dude, remind me to have Frisk show you
something sometime, you won’t regret it. It’s a sight to behold.”
Frisk doubled over laughing in the back seat, leaving Papyrus confused.
“Frisk put on sunglasses and played ‘Careless Whisper’ when the teacher left
the room.” explained a smiling Asriel.
“Oh my god, I had never seen something so majestic in my entire life. It was
incredible.” said Sans, extending a high five to Frisk, who returned it
spectacularly.
“All of this… in one day? The very first day of school? You sound like old
friends talking about their college glory days!” exclaimed Papyrus
incredulously.
“Ah, you had to be there, bro.” Sans said simply.
Papyrus doubted he would ever understand band kid culture. Or perhaps it was
his brother and the people he tended to attract that remained a mystery?
No, it was just band.
Papyrus pulled into the neighborhood Frisk had directed him to, scanning the
streets.
“Which house is yours?”
“It’s that one, the one with the willow tree.” Asriel pointed at a stone ranch
house that looked more like a woodland cottage, with a garden bursting with
yellow flowers.
“You have such a pretty home!” said Papyrus in wonder. It did seem kind of
small for a family with three teenagers, though…
“Ah, thank you!” said Asriel, the picture of manners.
The three kids got out of the car. Chara ran up the driveway and through the
door after only a “See ya, Sans” while Asriel thanked Papyrus profusely for the
ride, and Frisk nodded her agreement. They waved goodbye to Sans as Papyrus
pulled away and began driving home.
“What an… interesting… assortment of kids you befriended. They seem nice,
though!” commented Papyrus, always trying to see the best in everyone. Frisk
and Asriel really did seem like kind people, but he wasn’t quite so sure about
Chara… Nah, she was nice, too, she probably was just an emotional cactus or
something.
“Yeah, dude. It’s kind of funny how different they all are. Chara’s kind of an
asshole, but in a funny way, Frisk is super stoic and doesn’t talk much, but
when she does talk or do something, it’s totally gold, and Asriel’s, like, a
sensitive, polite little bunny or something.”
“It still astounds me how well you got to know them after just an hour???”
“Band takes up two class periods. And, like I said, Band is fam. That’s the
rule.”
“It’s also nice that you’re friends with freshman. Good for you, Sans.” Papyrus
patted his head with one hand.
“You know me. I don’t care what age anyone is as long as they’re cool.”
There was a comfortable pause.
“So, Paps, tell me more about your day.”
Papyrus beamed with excitement and launched into a detailed account of his day,
which inevitably centered around the fateful meeting with his newest object of
infatuation, Metta.
“…And he has really nice nails, and he was wearing eyeliner that was absolutely
perfect, and his hair is gorgeous…”
Sans listened patiently, smiling at the metaphorical stars in his eyes. He cut
through the long-winded reenactment of Metta’s conversation to ask a question.
“Paps. Do you think you’ll be happier here?”
“Of course I will. I’m always happy. And, now, I have friends and a future
boyfriend.”
Papyrus thought for a moment.
“Will you?”
“I’m happy when you are, bro.”
Papyrus nodded, and they drove home in a familiar harmony.
Surely, surely, he knew that such an amazing first day had to mean an amazing
year. He thought about Metta: gorgeous, unbelievably beautiful Metta. The
things that Undyne said about him may as well have been fuel to the fire, as
now all he wanted was to know him beyond the reputation he held. He wanted
uncover all of his beauty. Papyrus knew he was going to be right about him. He
just knew.
Chapter End Notes
     We finally meet the trio you've been waiting for. You can infer how I
     chose what instruments they play in band: the saxophone for Frisk,
     being smooth and romantic. She jokingly flirts with everyone. The
     flute for Asriel, as he's soft-spoken and delicate. Percussion for
     Chara because she's angry. Also, I chose to make Chara and Frisk
     female, because I thought it would fit better in the story, and it
     makes their family dynamic a lot funnier.
     P.S. I will be posting a link with my own character designs in the
     next update.
     P.P.S. You'll learn what car Paps has someday.
***** Faith And Companionship *****
Chapter Notes
     I finally got off my fucking ass and drew character designs for
     Papyrus and Metta! Check them out: http://
     labyrinthofbadchoices.tumblr.com/post/148754817633/sketches-of-
     character-designs-for-papyrus-and
     And if you are interested in general Undertale sin, you should follow
     my blog if you're interested. I'll probably draw character designs
     for other characters with later chapters, so stay tuned.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
My place or yours?
mine and please dont go through the window this time i mean its not like you
need to be secretive my parents worship the ground you walk on
I know. It’s just hilarious to make you mad
-_-
Metta sat, legs crossed, on one of the many stone benches littered across the
campus, waiting for his ride, wearing a pair of pink aviators. He skillfully
pretended to be completely absorbed in his phone while secretly scoping out the
wandering students. A pang of pride hit him every time someone stared, did a
double take, or nudged their friend and pointed at him. It was always near
impossible to ever tell if the looks were of admiration or scorn, but it didn’t
matter to him. It never had. All press is good press, after all.
Finally, the familiar black car he had been waiting for came into view, the
purr of its engine lost among the cheaper cars in the parking lot. More stares,
mainly from boys, at the $200,000 car looking out of place in a high school
parking lot. He stood up, straightened his back, and strutted, hips swaying,
hyperaware of the eyes on him as he approached the Aston Martin DB9, internally
gloating at the symbol of status he was going to give off by being the one to
ride in it.
It was almost worth him crashing his own car a few weeks ago.
Metta slid gracefully into the lux leather passenger seat and gave one last
sweeping look over the sea of gaping faces, before taking off his sunglasses
and greeting the driver.
“Hello, mother.”
“Metta. How was your day, honey?”
“Fabulous, but that’s nothing new. Although, being chauffeured really puts the
cherry on top, I must say.”
The beautiful Latina woman behind the steering wheel smiled and laughed at her
son, yet never took her dark eyes off the road. Metta knew she was now all too
aware of the perils of teen driving.
“If you want to have a car like this, you’d better start working, dear.”
It was a conversation that they’d had countless times before.
“I know, mom. I’m going to be a star, and I’ll be damned if anything will get
in my way.”
Once they were free of the parking lot, she reached over and squeezed Metta’s
hand, rich tan skin meeting golden peach, both with perfect manicures. She gave
him her signature look: equal parts stern and loving. Her dark, espresso
colored eyes were identical to his, except, he noticed the beginnings of crow’s
feet playing around the edges for the first time.
“As long as you know the struggles that career path will take, I know you can
do it. As long as you never let your spark, your ambition and determination,
die out.”
He nodded.
“Never.”
“That’s my son. By the way, sweetheart, I was wondering what you think of this
dress? Is it too plain? I was thinking of wearing it on the flight to Dubai
with your father.”
Metta examined the black wrap dress draped across her curvy figure, simple yet
elegant. This was a tradition between the two of them. Ever since he started
getting into fashion, him and his mother started bonding over shopping,
critiques of each other’s outfits, and even helping each other pick out clothes
sometimes. Even though Metta typically went for an eye-catching, feminine, and
daring style, and his mother preferred classy, sophisticated and demure, they
both knew and agreed on what looked good.
“I think it looks beautiful on you. You should pair it with gold jewelry, and
maybe those red suede wedges.”
“Hmmm, that’s a nice thought, but I prefer to be more comfortable when I’m
flying, I’m going to wear flats.”
She ran a hand over her long, ink-black hair, waving over one shoulder, and
shot a pointed look at Metta’s pink booties.
“I don’t know how you do it, dear. I guess wearing six-inch heels constantly is
a luxury of someone who doesn’t work on their feet.”
“What can I say? I love to be tall.”
“I’m always concerned you’re going to cause permanent damage in your feet-”
“Mother. No need to get into medical mode, I’m perfectly aware. Since you’ve
told me hundreds of times.”
“What good is having a surgeon for a mom if she can’t keep you healthy?” she
said teasingly, pulling into the garage with utmost care next to his dads more-
practical silver Lexus.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Instead of thanking me, promise you won’t crash again.”
Metta huffed as held the door open for her. They crossed the threshold into the
sleek, elegant kitchen, Metta pulling off his shoes as they walked.
“Of course I won’t.”
“Well, you are your father’s child.”
Right on cue, Metta’s dad’s tall, slim frame appeared, toting an enormous
suitcase, face flushed and hair tousled. He had a light complexion, with green
eyes and brown hair, and stubble shading his strong jaw. While Metta got his
eyes, hips, and hair color from his mother, he got his skin, face, and
unreasonably deep voice from his father. All in all, he was the lovechild of
two former models, and therefore was blessed with all of their best traits.
“Gossiping about me, Francesca?” he said, smiling and dropping the handle,
resulting in an astounding thud. She laughed airily and leaned on her tiptoes
to kiss him.
“You wish. Oliver, will you come help me with my bags?”
Metta leaned against the granite countertop, holding his boots in one hand.
“I thought you two weren’t leaving until tomorrow?”
Francesca looked at Oliver, who held up his hands in defense.
“You were supposed to text him.”
He looked sheepish and ruffled his already-disheveled crew cut.
“I apologize, Metta, something came up and we had to reschedule to today. I was
supposed to text you, but I’ve been in a bit of a disarray.”
“It’s alright. How will I pick up my car from the mechanic?”
“I’ve arranged for Gloria to give you a ride.” said Oliver, as Francesca
disappeared up the grand spiral staircase, presumably to retrieve her luggage.
“Ah, thank you.”
Gloria was their housekeeper, a middle-aged black woman who had been working
for the family since Metta was born. While she didn’t come too often, since the
family kept the house clean most of the time, Metta enjoyed her company and the
dry humor she always provided.
“Now, I know we’ve told you this, and I know you won’t forget, but I’m going to
repeat it anyways just to give myself some peace of mind.” said Oliver. He was
normally quite composed and professional, but he always became a bit stressed
out whenever he had to go on business trips. Metta knew from experience that
stress and anxiety was something to embrace, rather than avoid, for a better
performance.
“Your mother and I trust you, no question. You’ve always been mature beyond
your years, and you’ve always been responsible enough to take care of the house
while we’re gone. And we’re grateful for that, believe me. We were always
concerned when we had you that you’d grow up to be spoiled and entitled, due to
our… privilege, but you’ve proved us wrong. We’re very proud of you for that.”
He patted Metta’s shoulder in an affectionate manner, and Metta smiled. His
parents’ approval meant a lot to him, and he was always happy when they praised
their only son for his hard work.
“Six months may seem like an eternity to you, but you can handle this.”
“On the contrary. To me, it seems like the blink of an eye.” Metta said
casually.
“Oh? That’s a good way to think of it…” mumbled Oliver breathlessly, hoisting
the massive suitcase onto the counter. He had to catch his breath for a moment.
“And remember, you know the rules, even though you’ve never really needed them.
You can have as many people over as you want, as long as you clean up afterward
and don’t let it affect your grades. You can drink anything from the alcohol
cabinet in moderation, as long as you’re responsible about it. Save any mail
that looks important. Your mother’s car is off-limits, but if for any reason
you need to use mine, that’s fine. And make sure to lock all the doors and turn
on the security alarm when you go out or go to bed.”
He paused in the middle of his monologue.
“What am I forgetting? Oh, yes, one more thing.”
He unzipped the mongo suitcase laying on the counter and pulled out two
carefully folded ties. Metta peeked inside, to find it packed meticulously and
tightly, like Tetris. Both of his parents had long since mastered the art of
cramming months' worth of clothes into small spaces.
“Which tie goes better with this suit: red, or blue?” he said, face dead
serious.
Metta couldn’t contain his snort, even though he hadn’t expected anything less
from him. It wasn’t only his mother who respected his fashion sense: he had
been providing helpful hints to both his parents since puberty. And they were
fantastic models. Metta always glowed with satisfaction whenever he saw the
glamorous, beautiful power couple wearing his ensembles. Nobody ever seemed to
believe that they actually had a child, until they saw Metta, who was the
spitting image of both and encapsulated every bit of their elegance.
“Red always pairs well with black and white. I would go with that one.”
“Thanks.” He looked relieved and skillfully tied it underneath the white collar
of his suit.
Francesca sashayed into the room, somehow managing to be graceful while toting
two suitcases, a duffel bag, and her purse all at the same time. She was far
stronger than she looked, the petite woman of 5’4.
“Ready to go, dear? The driver has been waiting for a bit. I double checked our
room and the bathroom to make sure we didn’t forget anything, but if need be,
Metta can just mail it to us, or we can buy another.”
“Oh, fuck! I was supposed to come help you-”
Francesca cut him off by laughing.
“It’s okay, honey, I’ve got it. You were reminding Metta of the rules, right?”
“Yep.” said Metta.
“Great. We’ll call and Skype you regularly, so we can all keep posted on
everything. Call us anytime, okay?” she said, carefully dropping her bags to
the floor. She wrapped her short arms around Metta’s shoulders and hugged him
fiercely. Metta squeezed her back and rested his cheek on her head for a
minute, smelling the familiar sweetness of her perfume. She was the first to
pull away, and Oliver pulled him into a strong hug next, patting his back.
Without heels, Metta was still a bit shorter…
“We love you.” said Oliver.
“More than anything. Don’t forget, we’re proud of you for being able to do
this, okay?” said Francesca, holding Metta’s hand.
“I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. I won’t let you down. Have a good trip, you
two.” said Metta. He decided to politely not notice the wet sheen in his
father’s eyes. This was the longest they had ever been away, after all.
However, he had no qualms about whether or not he could handle it.
Francesca gathered up her bags once more and headed for the front door, Oliver
following with his. Metta stood in the doorway watching as they loaded their
things into the trunk of the cab and got in, side by side. As the car started
and pulled out of the long driveway, his parents rolled the window down and
waved their goodbyes. Metta returned the gesture, and watched the cab disappear
down the street, feeling a strange mixture of acceptance, loss and
anticipation.
And just like that, he was alone. He had the entire house to himself for half a
year. The thought made him absolutely giddy, and there was no one there to
judge him for being undignified. He slid down the entrance hall in his socks
and hopped onto the banister of the staircase, sitting with his legs crossed
and pulling out his phone.
Change of plans. My parents left today instead of tomorrow, the house is mine
Come over here let’s party
really? okay i’m coming just a sec
What would be the best way to celebrate this newfound freedom? He wandered into
the kitchen, and a fabulous idea popped into his head.
Want me to make us dinner?
um yes is that even a question
After carrying his shoes upstairs and stowing them safely into his closet, he
shimmied out of his leather pants and put on a pair of soft, torn denim shorts,
then slid down the banister without falling and killing himself. Years of
practice and fantastic balance. He was in the kitchen, pulling ingredients out
of the fridge, when he heard the front door open.
“Alphys!” he whooped, bounding over, picking her up, and swinging her around in
a circle, ignoring her cries of protest. He set her down and beamed, refusing
to let her disgruntled expression dull his sparkle.
“A-A simple hello would have sufficed…” Alphys said, her messy yellow hair in
an even messier state. She slipped off her blue Keds and sat them carefully
next to the door.
“You’re in a good mood, h-huh?” she said, eyeing Metta’s bright eyes and skimpy
clothing.
“Infectious, isn’t it, darling? How could I not be when I have been granted
with such luxurious freedom and a kingdom all to myself?” He said, throwing his
arm out theatrically.
She tried to hold back a giggle at his triumphant expression and failed
spectacularly. Metta knew he could always spread his moods to Alphys, for
better or for worse.
“Theatrics aside, y-yeah, it’s p-pretty cool. Your parents k-kind of scare me.
Not that they aren’t, um, nice!” she pondered, allowing Metta to tug her to the
kitchen.
“Intimidating, aren’t they? A quality I admire.” Metta said as he opened the
alcohol cabinet, contemplating the refined selection with a finger on his chin.
“You get it from them.”
“Why do you think I admire it?” he said, shooting her a suggestive look over
his shoulder with one eyebrow raised. She coughed and turned her attention to
what he was doing.
“Um, w-what are you going to make?”
“First, darling, we must have a toast, to my parents deciding to spend six
months in Dubai.” He picked an ornate bottle of red wine out of the cabinet and
presented it to Alphys, alongside the two glasses he had prepared earlier.
“You know I don’t d-drink.”
“Of course. Just checking. Let me know if you ever change your mind.” He said,
procuring a bottle of sparkling grape juice in the other hand. After using the
electric bottle opener for both corks, he artfully poured both glasses, a
bottle in each hand. He slid the juice to Alphys and raised his own.
“To business trips.” He murmured, clinking his glass to Alphys’ and taking a
sip. He loved wine: the rich, aromatic flavor, the decadence of sipping from an
expensive glass, the image of sophistication. Metta didn’t really care for
getting drunk too often, or other alcohol, for that matter. It was really the
taste and principle that he appreciated.
He noticed Alphys looking at his glass thoughtfully.
“Can I… try? J-Just a sip?”
“Certainly.” He said, amused, as he handed her the glass and she took a tiny
mouthful. She smacked her lips, rather childishly, then scrunched her nose.
“It’s…kind of good? B-But not really. Blegh, that’s a gross aftertaste. I’ll s-
stick to sugary drinks for kids.” She said, and gave the glass back. Metta
threw his head back and laughed, before starting to pull more ingredients out
onto the island.
“What are you gonna make?” Alphys said, drinking gulps of her grape juice and
watching her friend twirl across the hardwood floor.
“I haven’t decided yet. How about Italian, Carissima?” he said, rolling the R
and batting his eyelashes.
“Wh-what does that even mean? Do you speak Spanish, French, and Italian now, t-
too?” protested Alphys.
“No need to be jealous of my raw intellectual talent, Alphy, I only know a bit
of Italian, I’m learning it. It means dearest, as in dearest friend.” Gloated
Metta, setting the spices down.
She crossed her arms, and Metta could distinctively hear her mumble “It’s not
fucking fair” under her breath.
“How does vongole bianco sound? I know you love seafood.” Metta cut off her
resentful tirade. She instantly lit up.
“Y-yeah! Sounds good!”
He bounded across the room to plug his phone into the surround-sound speaker in
the kitchen, and the sound of Lana Del Rey filled the room. He got to work:
chopping red peppers, boiling pasta, simmering clams. Alphys leaned against one
hand to watch him work his magic. As with everything in his life, Metta made
cooking into a performance. As he cooked, he sang, his deep, rich voice
intertwining with Lana’s sweet tones. He moved in time with the music, letting
it flow through his body like water. Metta lost himself in the ingredients and
the melody. He forgot Alphys was there, and she marveled at how her best friend
always managed to look like a moving work of art, no matter what he was doing.
How did he dance like that? How was he so graceful? How did he seem to always
know what he was doing, in every stage of his life?
Metta arranged the two steaming plates perfectly, finishing with a sprig of
parsley on both. When he looked up, he saw Alphys staring, apparently
entranced.
“Looks good, right?”
“I love you, Metta.”
He brushed aside the bangs that always covered his right eye, revealing his
entire face for once, and winked at Alphys.
“Don’t let Undyne hear you. You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
He pushed the dish in front of her and sat next to her at the bar, bringing his
wine with him. He kept his bangs to the side of his face so that he could eat
more comfortably.
“Itadakimasu!” she crowed, before digging in so enthusiastically Metta feared
she might choke.
“Jesus Christ, you are such a fucking weeaboo. How is it?” he said, watching
for signs of asphyxiation.
“Incredible.” She swallowed hard, stars in her eyes.
“Just like everything you always make.”
“Good.” He said fondly. He rested his head on one hand and started eating much
more slowly and politely than his friend. She was right, as always, his cooking
was restaurant-quality. The pasta, garlic, pepper and clams paired perfectly
with his wine. Alphys wiped her mouth with the back of her hand noisily, before
seeing Metta’s mildly judgmental stare and using the napkin he had laid out
next to her.
“S-Speaking of Undyne, I wanted to tell you about her new f-friend, like I was
talking about earlier today?”
Metta noticed the hesitant note in her voice.
“Papyrus. I met him today, he’s in my Chemistry class.” He said sweetly, adding
inflection on “chemistry” that wasn’t missed by Alphys.
“Y-Yeah? What… did you think of him?” she said, taking a swig of her grape
juice and watching Metta carefully.
“What a cutie that boy is. I think I may have to play with him for a while.”
Metta said, his voice low and sultry. He took a sip of his wine and stared down
Alphys over the rim of the glass. Metta could see right through her. She was
obviously hoping that Papyrus, the fresh meat of the new year, would finally
invoke a different reaction in him other than how he always regarded boys: as
toys.
How foolish she was. Metta could tell that Papyrus was cute, innocent, but that
would surely only make him that much easier to manipulate.
Alphys slumped, defeated, but looking like she expected nothing less.
“Y’know, uh, that might have some c-consequences. Undyne, well, she, um, t-
threatened, if you hurt Papyrus’s feelings, that she would, a-and I quote, ‘Rip
your glittery pink dick off.’”
Metta laughed, not in the least bit surprised.
“Ha ha ha, wow, she always comes up with the most creative threats. Next to me,
of course. She doesn’t worry me.”
Alphys slurped up a noodle in an alarmed manner.
“Wh-what, do you think you could take her in a fight? S-Seriously?” she said,
incredulous.
“Easily.” Said Metta simply, poking at the stray noodles and clam shells on his
plate.
“Uh, how? You’ve seen- you’ve seen her fight, right? You’ve seen what she’s
done to all those dudes who think they can beat her, right!?”
“It’s simple. Undyne relies mostly on strength, strategy, and experience. She
has no grace or agility. I could outmaneuver her, or outsmart her.”
Alphys scoffed.
“You haven’t seen anything. You only saw her beat up two morons in the parking
lot once. She’s fast. She knows every pressure point and weakness in the human
body. She has a goddamn knife collection. She’s going into the military.
There’s no way you could beat her! I know you’re strong, too, but you probably
fight like its ballet or something.” She protested, eager to defend her crush’s
fighting cred.
“Well. I guess it won’t be long until we see who’s right here, hmmm?” he said,
smiling sweetly as he brought his plate to the sink, throwing away the excess
and putting it into the dishwasher. Alphys hoped with every fiber of her being
that it never came to that, because she knew her two best friends, and she knew
that neither would hold anything back.
“Alphys, darling, speaking of Undyne, are you ever going to tell her that
you’re in sweet, passionate love with her? The way you describe how she beats
the shit out of people is like you’re describing sex.” Metta sang, sitting on
the counter next to her. He knew how to shut her up when he wanted to.
“Oh…my…god… I hate you s-so much.”
Chapter End Notes
     Somebody please help Alphys she suffers constantly
     Side note, Metta had to get all that sass, class, and ass somewhere,
     right? Cue the milf and the dilf.
***** The Simple Things *****
Chapter Notes
     I bet you thought I was dead, didn't you?
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Papyrus drummed his fingers, anxious and staccato, against the linoleum table,
smiling at a few of his classmates as they filed in. He was beginning to
recognize faces, if not names. However, he was confident that he would be able
to know both by the end of the year. He picked up his phone and discreetly
checked his reflection in the black screen, straightening his scarf, tugging at
his hair. There was nothing he could do about his already slightly-flushed
cheeks, but he was certain that they only added a bit of color he needed. He
was wearing the most stylish black button-down he owned, paired with jeans, red
converse, and his scarf, of course. Not trying too hard, but nice enough to
impress him, he hoped. He rolled his sleeves down, then rolled them back up,
careful to do it perfectly neat.
Metta was almost late yesterday, so he’ll probably be late again.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Papyrus knew it was probably a bad idea to
be smitten so soon, but his perpetual optimism refused to let that come into
questioning. He didn’t have any experience with courting somebody. However, he
had seen plenty of movies and read plenty of books, so he knew how to proceed.
Probably.
Of course I know what I’m doing. Why wouldn’t I? Just because my crushes have
never worked out before… It has to eventually, right?
The bell rang, and Metta swept through the door, looking like he stepped
straight out of a Tumblr blog, and Papyrus felt like he was seeing him for the
first time all over again. He felt like his outfit was so sexy, it couldn’t
possibly be real. Or legal. Wasn’t there a dress code for this kind of thing???
He was wearing black high-heeled combat boots, black sheer thigh-high socks
with lacy little bows at the top, (Bows! What the fuck!) a pink miniskirt, and
a pink, studded leather jacket, sleeves rolled up. Papyrus suddenly felt
intensely sweaty, and when he looked around, he wasn’t the only one staring.
Hands off, I already called dibs!
Metta’s dark chocolate eyes drilled into his, almost black with intensity.
Papyrus swallowed, hard, noticing that Metta’s bubblegum-pink lipstick matched
his skirt. God, he was so fucked.
Metta confidently sat beside him, leaning back and crossing his legs, before
throwing a look of pure sex and a smile to match in Papyrus’s direction. He
felt encouraged, and tried to smile back as best as he could, before loosening
his scarf and taking a gulp of his water bottle to try to combat the heat
spreading across his face.
The teacher was taking attendance and a dull chatter was still afoot in the
room. Papyrus started spinning his pen and tried to capture Metta’s attention
again.
“Hi. I like your outfit!”
“Hello, Papy. Thank you.” He drawled, inspecting his still-perfect nails.
Papyrus leaned towards him, stars in his eyes. A nickname, just for him!
“Papy! No one’s ever called me that! Except my brother, he calls me Pap
sometimes, but that’s not as cool as Papy, for sure. I love it.”
Metta looked amused by something. Before he could say anything, the teacher cut
through the babble.
“Alright, now that we got all the introductory crap out of the way yesterday,
we’re going to start with a basic review of the stuff you learned in, I dunno,
around eighth grade? I lose track. Anyway, just- fill out this worksheet. Use
your friends, figure it out. Just as a refresher or something.”
And just like that, the room dispersed and the chatter was back as she walked
around, handing out the papers.
“Hmmm, She must utterly despise her job.” Said Metta, fluffing his hair and
smirking at Papyrus. He giggled.
“I don’t know, teaching has to be hard career. She probably just needs a
vacation.”
Metta looked pensive for a moment, taking two worksheets from the frazzled
teacher and passing one to Papyrus.
“Perhaps. You’re one of those people who always sees the good in others, aren’t
you?” he murmured, gazing at him, tracing one elegant finger along the hem of
his skirt, on the short stretch of exposed thigh before his socks began…
Papyrus cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck, smiling with
glee at what he was sure was a subtle compliment. This was going well!
“That’s me! Thank you!”
Metta smirked a little, taking out a pink glitter pen from his bookbag and
writing his name on the paper. Papyrus followed suit, having completely
forgotten about the work they were supposed to be doing.
“I can tell.” Metta rested the tip of his pen on the swell of his lower lip,
then turned and looked Papyrus dead in the eye.
“How cute.”
The blush that was previously dormant sprung back to life with fervor, coloring
Papyrus’s face a spectacular red as he quickly looked down at his own lap,
unable to hold the intensity of Metta’s gaze. He felt a flower blossom in his
stomach, his pleased smile stretching from ear to ear. Metta called him cute.
Metta thought he was cute. He could’ve died right then. He vaguely heard a soft
laugh coming from Metta’s direction.
“Now, honey, how much do you remember of this?” Metta said, artfully changing
the subject before Papyrus could respond. He tried to compose himself, eager to
match Metta’s flirting.
“Uh, this will be easy! I know what I’m doing!” he said, skimming the paper and
hoping he wasn’t wrong.
“Oh? Great. Let’s start, shall we?”
They sat in a comfortable, yet loaded silence for a moment as they wrote. At
first, it was easy, but ten questions in, Papyrus was squirming in his seat. He
couldn’t just look it up on his phone with Metta sitting next to him. He
couldn’t remember this, and Metta needed to think he was smart! What if he
just-
“Catalysts.”
“W-what?”
“Catalysts are what speeds up a chemical reaction. For number eleven.” Metta
looked up from his paper and spun the pen around his fingers, a sweet smile
playing around the edges of his lips.
“I! I knew that!”
“Of course you did, sweetheart.”
Papyrus fidgeted, trying to play it cool and blatantly failing. Metta reached
over and tapped his pen against Papyrus’s paper nonchalantly. They made eye
contact, and Papyrus swore his face was on fire. Metta’s eyes were almost
black- almost, but not quite, they were the color of espresso, and they were
just as rich, and just as enticing.
“Come on, now, I can’t seem to figure out twelve. What do you think?” he said,
his voice cascading like honey into tea. Papyrus scrambled to break free of his
spell and read the question out loud.
“What’s the difference between a cation and an anion…? Uh, yes, one of them is
positive and one is negative, easy!”
Metta, thank God, did not comment on how Papyrus failed to mention which was
which, but simply smiled indulgently and wrote it down. Papyrus got the sense
that he was humoring him just a bit, and the thought made him giddy and also a
tiny bit ashamed, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Because Metta was
flirting back, and this could definitely work, and there was no way in hell
Papyrus was going to screw this one up.
Papyrus looked around the room once more. Everyone else was looking up all the
answers on their phones and talking freely to each other without a care in the
world. It was seemingly only him and Metta who were trying to impress each
other like this.
They finished the paper together, eventually. Papyrus sweated and tried his
best to come up with the answers, and when he couldn’t, he gave his best guess,
and Metta just gave a half-smile and wrote, and offered pieces of information
and flirtatious jibes, which Papyrus didn’t know how to receive all that well
yet and so he just blushed and giggled and rubbed at the back of his neck. It
was like they were in their own little bubble. Metta made him feel as though he
was the only boy in the room. Metta also made him feel as though Metta was the
only boy in the room. And when they finished, Metta brushed a bubblegum
fingernail against a bubblegum lower lip, batted his eyelashes, and reached
over to grab Papyrus’s paper, brushing his hand against his. Papyrus flinched a
bit at the contact, but was left confused and wanting more. Metta stood up,
tapped the worksheets against the table, and sashayed down the aisle to turn
their papers in. The hem of his skirt bounced from side to side over the swell
of the greatest ass to ever grace its presence on humankind. The leather pants
had certainly done it justice yesterday. Papyrus said a silent apology to every
dead relative he was dishonoring, as well as his mother and probably the Pope.
He composed himself before anybody noticed (he hoped), he didn’t want anybody
to think he was disrespectful or a pervert or anything. Papyrus was a
gentleman. Metta was making this difficult, it almost seemed like he was
pointing his ass at his eyes. Papyrus watched him lean against the teacher’s
desk to sharpen a pencil that seemingly had come from nowhere. He watched him
say something superfluous to her and she laughed, evidently charmed. This guy
was a fucking magician or something, and Papyrus wanted to know how he did it
so easily when he had struggled to be liked for the greater part of his entire
life. Well, at least it was starting to work now!
There were other people still working. Metta sat back down and pulled out a
glittery pink-and-gold phone. Papyrus tried to subtly watch him without looking
too creepy. He needed to keep the conversation going.
“So… you’re friends with Alphys, right? She seems really nice.” He said,
casually, like a casual dude having a casual chat. So casual.
“Mhmm.”
“I’m friends with Undyne, she introduced us. We’ve been friends online for a
long time, but we only just got to meet in person! How did you meet Alphys?
Have you been friends for long?”
Metta’s eyes flicked up to his, expression unreadable. There was a slight pause
before he spoke.
“We became friends in middle school. An unlikely duo, but inseparable
nonetheless.” Metta seemed to be somewhere else when he spoke.
Papyrus thought about a few of the things Alphys had said about him.
“No, I agree! Unlikely duos are great when it comes to friendship. It’s nice to
have things in common, though.” Papyrus said, trying to find another question
he could ask.
“So, uh, what do you like to do? Hobbies, I mean.” He said, congratulating
himself on that perfect segway.
Metta’s expression remained blasé.
“A better question, darling, would be what I don’t do. Theatre, fashion, dance,
singing, cooking, you name it.”
“Wow! Neat! I love cooking too! I also like music, and dancing, and working
out, and, uh, a lot of other things that I don’t remember but I’m probably
great at them. You know.”
Metta didn’t move, or make any indication he was listening at all. Papyrus
fidgeted.
Should I ask him for his number? Or should I wait and actually ask him on a
date first?
“H-hey, Metta, could I-”
“Alright, since you’re all done with your reviews, we need to get moving onto
the first unit.”
Papyrus jumped a foot at the interruption, snapping to attention. He glanced
over at Metta, who still looked bored, although there was a hint of a smile at
his lips.
Perhaps this is a sign? Yes, I should take things a bit slower. I want to get
to know him more first.
He somehow wondered if he could be that patient, then dismissed that thought.
He would wait as long as possible if it meant he would win Metta’s heart.
He tried, he really did, to focus on the lesson, but he kept getting distracted
by Metta tapping a pen against his lip or brushing his hair behind his ear.
Science just wasn’t his thing, but he did need a good grade if he wanted to get
into a good college. His strategy was to never fall behind and pay attention in
class, but he hadn’t foreseen having a devastatingly attractive femboy as his
partner, either. He wondered what Metta was thinking, and by another glance, he
could see him texting with his phone behind his bag on the table. Papyrus was
beginning to admire how he could really get away with anything; not that he
actually wanted to break the rules or anything. But, if one is to break the
rules, they should do it in style, he guessed.
After however-many minutes of seemingly ignoring him, the bell was about to
ring, and Metta, who picked up his bag and tucked his phone inside his jacket,
stood up, brushing one high-heeled foot up Papyrus’s leg as he did so, so
lightly and subtly that it could have been an accident. Papyrus started,
looking at Metta, who smirked and turned away. Papyrus felt feverish again. He
was no idiot, that wasn’t an accident, that was flirting!
Fuck yes!
Papyrus was imbibed with determination. He knew that Metta liked him, surely he
did. Papyrus was going to sweep him off of his well-dressed feet in no time.
The bell rang, and Papyrus walked down the hall with a little extra puff in his
chest.
~ ~ ~
Papyrus’s eyes swept over the junior locker bay, finding no sign of the
towering ginger menace. Just when he was going to text her again, his body was
slammed with a gargantuan force and knocked almost onto the ground. After a
moment of panic, he realized that it was Undyne, who had tackle-hugged him from
behind and was now laughing maniacally with her arms around his neck.
“Fuhuhuhu, did I scare you?”
“Fucking- Of course you did!” spluttered Papyrus, wrenching himself free and
turning to face his grinning friend.
“I am really not used to you using wrestling techniques as a greeting.” He
said.
“You can’t spell ‘companionship’ without ‘pain!’” She said cheerfully, grabbing
his dropped backpack off the ground and tossing it to him.
“How many times have you used that line?”
She jerked her head noncommittally. Papyrus estimated that meant a lot.
“Anyway, are you ready to go?” he said, straightening his clothes.
“Yeah. I’m excited to see this jacked-up car you’ve got!”
His chest swelled with pride, walking with a spring in his step.
“So.” She began neutrally. “Metta, huh? How’s that shit working out?”
“I’ll have you know that he’s quite amiable to me. We flirted the entire class
period!” said Papyrus, happy at the direction this conversation was going.
Undyne seemed to be struggling internally.
“Papyrus, dude, you gotta stop this. I’ve seen this happen a million times
before, it’s only going to end badly for you.” She finally blurted out.
He dismissed her pleas with a wave of his hand.
“I’ve made up my mind. You’re all wrong about him, I know it. He just needs a
guy who will treat him right, and that guy is me. You can’t dissuade me now.”
He said doggedly.
Undyne knew him well enough that trying to change his mind was absolutely
pointless, he was as stubborn as a mule. However, so was Undyne.
“I’m still going to bug you about it all the way, and when he stomps on you
with those slutty-ass high heels, I’ll say I told you so.” She grumbled.
Papyrus decided to ignore this sentiment, focusing on the part he wanted to
bring up.
“Speaking of high-heels, did you see what he was wearing today?” he said, voice
tinged with dreaminess. Undyne looked venomous.
“Yeah I saw it, and I wanna know how the fuck he doesn’t get dress coded
wearing a miniskirt and thigh-highs.”
Papyrus put on his stylish round sunglasses when they emerged into the balmy
August air.
“Because he looks incredible in them. Also, all the teachers adore him, how
could they not? He’s so charming!”
“What the fuck ever. He’s a smarmy bastard.” She said, digging in her bag for
her own yellow Ray-bans, held together with duct tape.
Thoughts of Metta were driven out of their minds when Undyne saw his car and
her eyebrows shot up her forehead, while Papyrus glowed with pride. She circled
it once and whistled.
“Damn, son. How the hell were you able to afford this again?”
“I worked my ass off for two years and saved every penny. Be careful when you
get in.”
“Y’know, I admire your tenacity sometimes.”
Papyrus grinned hugely, overcome with the random desire to hug her. It was
still going to take some getting used to, having a friend there for him, but he
wanted this newfound joy to last forever.
Undyne slid into the passenger seat while he started the car, pulling the
elastic out of her long ginger hair and ruffling it with her scarred hands. He
thought that she looked beautiful like that with her hair loose, softer
somehow. He made a mental note to ask why she didn’t wear her hair down more
often. She turned to him.
“If it’s so precious to you, shouldn’t you really put the hood up when you park
it? Someone could get in and fuck it up.”
He shrugged, perturbed by her pessimism.
“Who would do such a thing?”
“You’re too trusting.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.” He said, keeping careful watch of the
mostly-empty parking lot as he backed out and started driving home. Their hair
whipped around their faces, Undyne’s blowing behind her and contrasting against
the cornflower blue sky.
“You can have the aux cord since you’re the guest.” He said.
She eagerly grabbed it and plugged it in, and seconds later, Avenged Sevenfold
was playing obscenely loud. She sang roughly to every word as she leaned on the
open window.
His ears were ringing by the time he pulled into his driveway and meticulously
parked next to his father in the garage.
“Wait, where’s your brother?” she said, gathering her hair into a high ponytail
once more once they were stationary.
“He texted me and said he was getting a ride home with someone he called
‘Grillbz.’ With a ‘z.’ I have honestly no idea how he makes such weird friends
at such a rapid velocity.” he reflected.
They entered the small, neat kitchen, but the tell-tale signs of Sans’s arrival
home was present in the open cabinet doors and dishes by the sink. He dropped
his bag and hurried to clean up after him.
“Make yourself at home, and I’ll make us a snack!”
Papyrus pulled out a pan and a bottle of oil, followed by a bag of loose
popcorn kernels. No microwave popcorn around here, not when he was going to
impress his friend with his cooking expertise.
While the oil was heating up, he put dishes away, closed cabinet doors, and
frantically wiped the counters clean.
“You’re staying for dinner, right?” he asked her hopefully.
“Eh… I’m already taking a day off of my work-out schedule, might as well.”
Undyne said, texting someone Papyrus could presume to be Alphys due to her
faint smile.
“Yes!” He lit up and pumped his fist in the air.
“Don’t tell me what you’re making. The suspense is killing me.” She said
sarcastically.
“I won’t! Don’t worry, it’s going to be delicious!” he said gleefully, the
sarcasm lost on him.
He poured enough kernels into the sizzling oil to cover the bottom, then
covered it with the lid.
“Who are you texting? Alphys, perhaps?”
“Yeah.”
He wiggled across the kitchen and leaned over her shoulder to look.
“When are you going to tell her? It’s obvious that she likes you too.”
She snatched her phone away, but not before he could see the copious amounts of
kissy-heart-flower emojis that Alphys had sent her.
“Just say, in a hot voice… ‘Oh, Alphys, I need help with some…” He winked, and
said “wink” out loud for good measure. “…Chemistry…”
He was only able to dodge the fist that came hurtling at him because he had
been expecting it. And his ninja reflexes, of course. He side-stepped out of
reach, chortling, as her face turned blotchy.
“Oh my god, no!”
“Well then? When will you tell her?”
She jerked her head to the side noncommittally, flexing her forearms.
“I don’t know, man, when the time is right, okay?”
“Well, if you need any romantic advice, you know who to call.”
“Two fucking days ago you were talking about how you don’t have any experience,
and now you’re talking like Metta. Disgusting.”
A burning smell alerted them from their banter.
“Papyrus, I think your popcorn is burning.”
“What did I do wrong?” he said, panicking.
“Hell if I know? Aren’t you supposed to, like, shake it or something?”
He immediately followed her advice, shaking the pan on the stove. Minutes
later, they had a bowl of only mildly burnt popcorn.
“It’s not so bad!” said Undyne, never a picky eater. He brightened up.
He gave her a tour of the house, from the small, neat kitchen to the small,
neat living room, skipping over his dad’s room and his office. There was the
almost-hidden door to the basement, where Sans and Papyrus would hang out and
Sans would entertain friends, and then the upstairs, consisting only of a
hallway, a bathroom, and the two brothers’ rooms.
“Sans’s room is God awful. I’m not showing you that.” He said, not bothering to
lower his voice, knowing that Sans was in there and could hear him. He proudly
presented his room, the strongest imprint of his personality on the house. Of
course, he was the one who did the interior decorating in this household
anyway.
“And you called me a dork for liking anime, while you, at sixteen years old,
have a fucking racecar bedspread.” Was the first thing she said.
“I’ll have you know, Undyne, that my comforter is the coolest of the cool. I
had a racecar bed before I bought my actual car.”
“Nice action figures.” She said, making herself comfortable on his bed. They
were from various RPGs: Final Fantasy, Kingdom Hearts, Pokemon…
“Do you want to go to the basement? There’s more room to do our homework down
there.” Said Papyrus.
“Then why’d we come up here in the first place?” Undyne wondered.
He shrugged.
“I wanted to show you my room. Come on!”
They grabbed their stuff and headed down two flights of stairs, Papyrus
flicking on the lights. Their basement wasn’t huge, per say, but it was
spacious enough, finished, and full of squishy couches and a big TV with all of
their shared consoles and games. Not to mention, a fridge full of soda.
“Jesus, guys have a lot of games. Let’s play something!” Undyne immediately
attached herself to the shelf, rifling through them. Papyrus hoped she didn’t
mess up his system: they were organized by console, and then alphabetically
ordered within that.
“Undyne, I thought we were going to do homework!”
“Oh come on, one game of Super Smash Bros.” She yanked it out and tossed it at
him triumphantly.
“Ok, fine, one game.” He said.
About games later and a winning streak from Undyne, a colossal ruckus snapped
them out of their competitive reverie. Sans’s grinning face appeared at the
bottom of the stairs, followed by the trio Papyrus had met the other day:
Frisk, Asriel, and Chara, and then a third guy that Papyrus didn’t recognize.
“Mind if we crash this party?” greeted Sans in lieu of a hello.
“Sure, go ahead! Hello, everyone.” said Papyrus, straightening his spine and
smiling at the new houseguests.
“Make yourself at home, guys. Paps, you’ve met these three, and this is
Grillby, he gave me a ride earlier.” Said Sans, already draping himself over an
armchair.
“Grillby” (Papyrus swore that wasn’t his real name) was a tall, handsome black
boy, dressed smartly in a white button down and black waistcoat. He had long
black dreadlocks with a few red and orange ones mixed in, glasses, and a
matching burnt orange beanie. If Papyrus wasn’t so madly smitten with a certain
beautiful boy in heels, he would’ve thought this guy was extremely attractive.
Grillby didn’t say anything, just nodded in hello.
“Okay, I know that isn’t his real name. Why do you call him ‘Grillby?’” asked
Papyrus.
“Everyone calls him that because he always hosts these bonfires at his house
and makes some dank-ass barbeque. Nobody knows his real name, and he won’t tell
anyone either.” explained Sans. In the corner, Grillby sighed. Strong silent
type, perhaps.
Chara and Frisk were raiding the fridge, and came back to watch the TV with an
armload of root beer. Asriel was curled up like a small animal in the lone blue
beanbag chair on the floor.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot! This is Undyne, by the way. And this is Sans, that
is Frisk, Asriel, and Chara.” said Papyrus, pointing at each freshman and
admonishing himself for forgetting his manners. Undyne waved at everyone.
“Yo.”
“So you’re Papyrus’s Internet buddy? You’re way fuckin’ scarier than I
imagined.” mused Sans, cracking open a soda thrown to him by Frisk.
“Funny, he said the same thing when he saw me.” gloated Undyne, seemingly
taking that as a compliment. “You’re even shorter than Pap said you would be.”
Sans shrugged, taking it in good stride. “But I’m not short on swag.”
“I cannot believe I heard you just say that with my own two fucking ears.”
Papyrus groaned, while the freshman trio and Grillby snickered.
“Are you playing Smash? Count me in!” cut in Chara, leering and jumping over
the back of the couch and landing between Undyne and Papyrus.
“Ha, if you think you can break my streak, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Undyne sneered while tossing her a spare controller, diving headfirst back into
the competitive charade.
“Hey now, I was catching up, now I’ll just have to beat both of you!” vowed
Papyrus, leaning forward.
Frisk jumped over the couch the same way Chara did, nearly landing on her in
the process, and wiggled into a space beside Papyrus. She had gotten her hands
on the other spare controller.
“Okay, all three of you! No problem!” Papyrus said, sweating internally.
Grillby, Sans, and Asriel seemed content to sit back and watch, and watch they
did, as Papyrus and Frisk were repeatedly demolished in favor of Undyne and
Chara’s fierce rivalry that was growing more intense match after match. Both
girls were red-faced, leaning forward, the utmost concentration on their faces
as they exchanged trash talk.
“Aw, come the fuck on, that’s cheap. I lose respect for anyone that mains
Pikachu and spams down B.” said Undyne.
“You’re one to talk, Miss Meta Knight!” spat Chara.
“Stop bickering! Let’s play something else so we can be nicer to each other-”
pleaded Papyrus, dismayed at the fact that Undyne had just met this girl and
they were already showing all signs of murderous intent towards the other.
“HELL NO.” they shouted in unison.
“I have to beat her first!”
“One more match!”
In a flash, Frisk wordlessly got up and knocked both controllers out their
hands before they could react.
“You two need a break. Time for the others to clock in.” she said frankly.
Sans caught one controller tossed by Frisk, grinning.
“Grillbz, ya wanna play?” he said.
He shook his head and held up his hands in a “no, thanks” gesture. Papyrus was
starting to wonder if he ever spoke at all. Asriel perked up a bit.
“I’ll play, but I’m going to lose at whatever it is no matter what, haha.”
“Aw, have a little more faith in yourself!” said Papyrus sternly. He really
didn’t like it when people ragged on themselves. Asriel just shrugged and
smiled a little.
Frisk bounded up from the couch and plucked a game from the shelves after a
moments consideration, holding it up imploringly.
“Mario Party? That sounds fun!” Papyrus exclaimed. Chara and Undyne were
stilled glowering next to each other with their arms crossed, Chara especially
so. Undyne finally directed a cheeky grin at Frisk.
“You know, if I wasn’t so impressed you managed to catch me off guard without
losing a limb, I’d be pissed off. You’re pretty fuckin’ quick for a scrawny
fourteen-year-old.” She said slyly, apparently trying to be genuinely
complimentary. Frisk smiled in response, returning her offered fist-bump.
Papyrus put his hands on either side of his face and squeed internally in
happiness at their comradery, elated that everyone was getting along so well.
“Wario, Sans, really?” ridiculed Papyrus after picking Mario as always when
they arrived at the character choice screen.
“He’s dope as fuck and you know it.” He grinned. “Frisk, Toad? That fits, ha.
Wait, Asriel, Daisy? Really?”
Asriel shrugged. “I like flowers.”
“Of course you would pick the second-best princess. Also, her dress is ugly.”
“Yellow’s my favorite color! Save your Daisy criticism for someone who cares,
jeez.”
“I support your life decisions, Asriel.” said Frisk, without a trace of irony.
“Yeah, you be a princess if you want to be!” Papyrus encouraged.
Sans’s pale eye glinted in the dim lighting, his smile impish. “Easy for you to
say, considering you’re in love with one.”
“Huh, who is it?” Chara immediately jumped at the chance to harass somebody.
“Metta Valentino.” said Undyne before Papryus could interject, disgust evident
in her voice.
“Oh my god, really? That’s fucking hilarious!” exclaimed Chara gleefully,
exploding into giggles.
“I had a dance battle with him once.” chimed in Frisk thoughtfully. “He’s
certainly fabulous.”
“Thank you, Frisk. Yeah, he is fabulous enough to be a princess!” Papyrus was
completely unperturbed by them knowing who he liked, since the whole school was
going to know soon, anyways. Plus, it gave him an excuse to talk about Metta
more.
“Laugh all you want, Chara. I’m still going to date the shit out of him!”
declared Papyrus.
“You’re going to date him? Metta doesn’t date, he fu-”
“Are we going to start playing or what? We’ve been hovering over start for,
like, five minutes.” interrupted Sans cheerfully.
“At least somebody backs my views up.” muttered Undyne quietly.
“Yeah! I rolled a five!”
“I rolled a six.”
“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT, SANS.”
“Oh, I’m in last already? What did I say would happen, guys?”
“Sorry, Asriel, but that minigame is my specialty! Nyeh heh heh.”
“In my opinion, that candy doesn’t look appetizing at all.”
“Sans, it’s not supposed to!”
“Then what’s the point, yo?”
“Wait, when the fuck did Frisk get in first place!?”
“Hmm, about five turns ago. You guys are awfully unobservant.”
“Shit.”
“Frisk, you’re not allowed to be better at me at this minigame.”
“Okay.”
“What did I just fucking tell you?”
“Whoops.”
“It’s okay, you’re still my friend.”
“Must you land on the Bowzer space every time, Sans?”
“I do it to annoy you, dearest Assy.”
“That has to be the worst nickname I’ve ever born witness to.”
“Hey, dude, is your name Asriel because that ‘ass’ is ‘riel’?”
“Stop hitting on him, Sans, you’re making him uncomfortable.”
“Plus, I’ve made that joke at least forty times already.”
“Frisk, you’re killin’ me.”
“This game is taking way too fucking long! When can I play?”
“Wait, lemme guess, Chara, you’d play as Boo, right?”
“Hmph. Maybe.”
“What about you, Undyne? This makes for a fun character analysis.”
“If you’ve unlocked it, for sure Dry Bones. That thing’s metal as shit.”
Papyrus felt an unmistakable glow in his stomach that he recognized as
happiness, as he looked around the dim basement full of bantering teenagers
that he could call friends.
Life was looking good for Papyrus, much, much better than he could have
imagined. He could see nothing but happiness in his future. All that was left
was to have perfect success in romancing a perfect boy, and nothing was
standing in his way, especially with newfound friends supporting him like this.
Chapter End Notes
     In all seriousness, I'd like to formally apologize for such a long
     delay. (four fucking months, to be exact.) I am a senior in high
     school in four AP classes with a part-time job and a lot of hobbies,
     so I can get really busy. However, even if this fic goes on hiatuses,
     I will never quit on it, and that's a promise.
     So have some more flirting, and more Papyrus friendships that he
     really deserves.
     In case you want a visual on Metta's outfit in this chapter:
     https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/0e/9c/93/
     0e9c930244826ba95bf24f68581bd1c2.jpg
     https://www.cosplaycostumecloset.com/image/cache/catalog/bewicked/
     BW519-900x900.jpg
     https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/21/59/0d/
     21590d117892b91e3c7e45ba49917acf.jpg
     https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/da/98/50/
     da98506c8b4da24217e9de15d1273c93.jpg
     P.S. The chemistry teacher in this fic is inspired by my own
     chemistry teacher that I had in junior year before she retired. God
     Bless you, Mrs. Bretch.
     P.P.S. I finally fixed the spacing issue in this chapter and in
     previous chapters.
***** Phenomenon *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Okay, everyone, good work! That’ll be a wrap for today.”
Metta stretched, observing the muscles in his legs flex before standing and
beginning to roll up his mat like everyone else. The room was filled with
chatter as the girls broke off into groups, laughing and groaning in equal
measure.
“Hey, Metta! We’re going to Pinkberry after this, wanna come?”
By the door was the familiar duo, Casey and Bracie, who looked nothing alike
and yet acted exactly the same, both with the worst case of “white girl voice”
Metta had ever seen. Despite the fact that Casey wasn't even white. Like most
of the girls in that particular yoga class, they idolized him.
“No thanks, darlings, I have an nail appointment in thirty minutes I must get
to.” He pouted. “I want a wine red instead of pink this time,” he said,
flashing his bubblegum nails. They nodded in sympathy.
“Bye!” they said, and many of the other girls chimed in. He smiled amiably and
waved as he pushed through the doors of the studio and left the gym.
Metta, of course, had been lying. In reality, he was picking up a reluctant
Alphys and going to the mall. He did sometimes hand out some of his precious
time to his acquaintances from yoga class, but they grated on his nerves a bit,
especially Bracie and Casey. It was an event he could manage maybe once a
month. Other acquaintances, like the ones from Pilates, Zumba, gymnastics, and
all four dance classes he took, he allowed the same allotment of his time,
although they were notably less… basic. It was interesting how different types
of girls congregated in those different hobbies. He leaned against the fuzzy
pink steering wheel cover (the rest of the car he kept classy) and texted her.
On my way!
ugh fine
He smiled to himself at her lack of enthusiasm and pulled out of the parking
lot, Art Pop playing on his sleek stereo. Fifteen minutes later, he left his
car idling in his driveway and went rifling through his closet for something to
wear, eventually pulling on black jeans, a hot pink t-shirt and black vest, and
black combat boots, no heels. Finishing off with a black choker, copious
amounts of perfume, and a hair readjustment, he strode next door and barged
through the front door without preamble, leaning against the doorframe.
“Alphys!”
“Ugh, shut up, I’m coming! J-jeez.” She came down the stairs in jeans, a yellow
Henley, and the same white converse she’d owned for three years, her unruly
hair pulled away from her face in a white plastic headband.
“I’m buying you something cute today if it’s the last thing I do, honey.” Metta
said, clicking his tongue at her plain ensemble. What was the use of having a
gay best friend if she wasn’t going to take his fashion advice, honestly?
She groaned, mumbled something venomous, and pushed past him out the door.
~ ~ ~
“Metta, those colors look almost exactly the same.”
Metta had pulled her into the first store on his list, and she was sitting like
a geeky lump on a pouf while he tried on flamboyantly colored silk button-
downs. His bangs were pulled to the side; he needed all the depth perception he
had for this.
“I thought you were supposed to be smart. This is purple, and this is indigo.
Obviously.”
“Fucking- I don’t know, j-just pick one.” The snooty attendant standing by cast
a disapproving glare at Alphys’s sinking posture.
“The night is still young, I’ll get both. And this red one, and the black.”
Metta said, ignoring her completely and talking mostly to himself.
Soon thereafter, they were in a crowded changing area in a trendy store packed
with girls their age, all ogling Metta and by proxy Alphys. Metta, as usual,
was completely impervious to the staring, while Alphys had grown used to it
long ago. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the gargantuan pile
of clothing and shoes that went over the 6-item limit. They had a well-
practiced routine: Metta tried on outfits at record speed, Alphys gave some
half-hearted feedback that usually flew in one ear and out the other as she
scrolled through Tumblr, and Metta sorted everything into “Yay” and “Nay”
piles.
He stepped through the curtain in black platform heeled boots, an A-line red
skirt, and a cropped black turtleneck sweater. Sliding the heart-shaped
sunglasses onto his face, he pouted at the mirror.
“The outfit’s cute, th- the sunglasses look ridiculous.” said Alphys, barely
looking up from her phone.
“Fashion is all about risks, honey. I can make anything work with panache.” He
said, tossing them into the “yay” pile and winking at some poor girl’s waiting
boyfriend, who looked as pale and shocked as he’d seen a ghost.
As usual, Metta tried valiantly to get Alphys to try on clothes at his
suggestion. She finally gave in at around the seventh store, and Metta
gleefully filled his arms with garments that made Alphys groan at the sight of
them.
“In you go, in you go! Show me everything. Be sure to try on the shoes, too.”
Metta shoved her into the changing room at her resistance, sitting in front of
a mirror with legs crossed.
“And Hurry it up in there!”
“I’m- huff, trying!” Her voice was strained, Metta noted with mirth. He was
just about to take pity and offer to help her into it when the curtain parted
and Alphys wobbled out in a pastel blue sundress and heels. Metta glowed with
pride- the ruching and A-line skirt flattered her curvy build perfectly and
brought out her eyes.
“Oh, darling, you look beautiful! Come here.” He circled her like a vulture,
clicking his tongue.
“Those aren’t the right shoes. Put on the white wedges for this one, go on.”
She turned back into the changing room, waddling slightly, and Metta discretely
reached over, grabbed her phone from the bench, and opened Snapchat.
“Th-there, are you happy? These are less painful, at least…”
Metta darted forward and snatched her glasses off her face, then, before she
could react, jumped backwards, took a picture of her wide-eyed and adorable in
the baby-blue dress, and sent it to “Undyne <3” in one swift motion.
“M-Metta! What the hell? Wh-what did you do?” she stammered, tripping over her
feet in her desperation. He handed her the phone, grinning easily.
“You’re welcome.” Metta watched as she presumably saw the send receipt to
Undyne, her face turning beet red.
“Oh m-my GOD, you f-fucking dick!” she wailed, taking her glasses back and
kicking off the shoes as angrily as a 5’2 uncoordinated dweeb would be capable
of.
“How the hell did you know my phone password?”
“Alphys. Honey. ‘Yaoi’ isn’t exactly top-notch security.”
Immediately, the notification noise alerted them both, and Alphys scrambled to
open Undyne’s response, which was a picture of her with a huge grin splitting
her face in half, captioned “OMG YOU LOOK SO CUTE <3 <3 <3,” Metta observed
from over Alphys’s shoulder.
“See?” he said smugly.
Her face was flushed. She marched into the changing room and emerged holding
the dress, which she thrust at the surprised attendant with an intense
expression she usually reserved for discussions of anime.
“We’ll take it.”
~ ~ ~
“But really, what’s the point in music that you can’t sing along to?”
“N-not everyone is a Broadway drama queen like you! It still s-sounds cool.”
An hour later, the two were sat at the food court eating ice cream sundaes at
the insistence of Alphys that they took a break. She was trying to explain the
appeal of K-pop and J-pop music to Metta, who appreciated the aesthetic but
didn’t like any music he couldn’t use to show off.
“I’ll admit, the boys are cute. Good makeup.” He said conversationally as he
leaned over to look at the music video she was playing on her phone.
“Yeah, it’s perfect. Just a bunch of p-pretty boys in eyeliner.” She smiled
dreamily and took a too-large bite of banana, choking a bit in the process. He
reached over and slapped her back, and she coughed and spluttered and turned
red.
“Thanks.” She grumbled sarcastically.
“Don’t mention it, darling.” He said cheerfully, sucking the chocolate of a
cherry and winking at her.
~ ~ ~
The two were standing in the dark, cramped space of the Hot Topic, both looking
severely out-of-place amongst the goth kids with green hair and septum
piercings that roamed through the shadows. Alphys, after going along with
Metta’s shopping agenda, insisted that it was only fair that they go buy a few
things she wanted. He agreed that that was reasonable, and so she led him to
the isolated corner of the mall with far more energy than she had shown in the
past two hours.
“Help me look for it, Metta!” She was standing on her very tippy-toes, craning
her neck in all of her 5’2 glory to search amongst the wall of Pop Funko
figurines while he leaned against a belt rack and looked around with a sort of
scientific, detached amusement.
“What is ‘it,’ again?” He said, straightening up.
“Peridot… she’s green, and has a triangle shaped head… I’ve been looking for
this one for months, they’re always sold out!”
“That one?” He said, pointing at one that fit the description at the very top
of the pile.
“Yes, could you grab it?”
He reached up and plucked it off the shelf, catching it in one hand and
casually tossing it to Alphys, who demonstrated a rare display of agility and
actually caught it.
“This place really has the aura of everyone’s edgy middle school phase.” He
noted in good humor.
Alphys looked up from pulling anime bracelets and buttons greedily off the
walls. “You never went through an emo phase, or me.” She paused and shuddered.
“I was s-still cringeworthy.”
“How can you say that when you haven’t changed much at all, honey?” He teased,
smiling wistfully.
* * *
Alphys sat alone on the grimy bench, trying her best to stifle the sniffs and
sobs ripping their way through her chest as hot tears streamed down her face.
Her tiny, stout torso curled in on itself as she grabbed fistfuls of her pink
sweatpants, shaking, tears splashing onto the linoleum floor. She had to be
careful, quiet, lest someone see or hear her and deplete her already-
nonexistent chance to make any friends.
Oh, who was she kidding? Everyone hated her guts already. And why wouldn’t
they? The fact that she was a freak was written all over her dweeby anime t-
shirts and Pokemon backpack, in her thick glasses and chubby physique. Her
classmates avoided her like the plague, only avoiding directly insulting her to
her face because that would require even acknowledging her existence.
She thought she heard a noise, like a foot on linoleum, echo through the
corridor, and she sat bolt upright, quickly wiping her eyes with her too-baggy
shirt. But nobody came.
Tears spilled over her cheeks. God, she wanted to end this.
“Hello there.”
“Gah!” Alphys started violently, almost falling off the bench, at the tall
figure that had materialized next to her without her even noticing. Micheal
Valentino was casually standing there, one hand on his hip, appraising her with
an unreadable expression on his handsome face.
“I didn’t intend to startle you. Were you crying?” he said, sitting next to her
on the bench without further ado or invitation, crossing one leg over the
other.
“Um, um-” she stuttered, bewildered at the sudden course of events unfolding.
Why the heck was THE Micheal Valentino here, talking to her?
Everyone knew him. He was arguably one of the most popular students in the
entire school despite the fact that many people, mostly the boys, openly hated
his guts. He was famously unabashed about flaunting his gayness, even going so
far as to wear skirts and makeup to school sometimes, to the shock and outrage
of many students and faculty. Alphys had heard about him from the whispers of
her classmates. However, he was a curious case. When it came to bullying, he
treated every slur and insult thrown at him like a dear compliment. When
someone had written “faggot” onto his locker, he had responded by decorating it
further with pink hearts and glitter. It threw his attackers completely off-
guard, making him completely legendary. He was untouchable.
And he was no fruitcake. Alphys had heard that when the same boy who wrote it
went and gave the same treatment to Micheal’s cousin’s locker, he had cornered
him after school, smiling venomously, and kicked him in the nuts so hard that
the guy had vomited. But that was just a rumor.
So why was the most well-known boy in school sitting on the bench with her,
wearing tight black jeans and pink Uggs, like it was nothing? Nothing made
sense. She hurriedly wiped the evidence off her face and scooted away from him.
“…N-no?”
He shot her a look that clearly said “why are you even bothering to lie right
now.”
“Should I introduce myself, or should I assume you already know who I am?” he
said, perfectly blasé.
“Y-y-you’re Micheal.” Alphys saw him twitch with obvious annoyance and she
flinched.
“It’s pronounced Mee-chel.”
“S-s-sorry! Um, I, d-didn’t know, everyone-”
“Pronounces it wrong, I’m aware. Nobody has an appreciation for a little ethnic
heritage.”
“D-do you… not like it? Your name…”
“Mee-chel is fine. Micheal, on the other hand… is far too ordinary. Too
common.” He leaned back against the grey cement walls. Alphys took the chance
to tentatively get a closer look at him. She had caught glimpses of him in the
halls occasionally, but him being in a grade above her, she had never been this
close to him. His shiny black hair swooped over his forehead, and she could
tell that he was wearing glitter on his eyelids, precisely the same shade of
pink that was on his too-long nails. He was tall, too, probably double her
height. She quickly glanced down again, afraid of getting caught checking him
out.
“S-so, you’re-”
“French. And Latino.” He looked over at her, one eyebrow cocked up, and she
defensively curled up tighter. “Are you going to introduce yourself, or am I
always going to be the one doing all the work in this friendship?”
“Wh- F-Friendship? S-since when were we f-friends!?”
“Since now. I just decided.”
She could do nothing for a long moment but sit there with her mouth open,
wondering when the heck her life had gotten so weird.
“I’m- I’m Alphys. Um… Um, why?”
He looked at her for a moment, his dark eyes full of… something, it was
impossible to tell what. She was flushed red, surely.
“So, Alphys, do you always sit here during lunch?” He said lightly in lieu of
an answer.
“N-no, of course not! I was just… j-just…” she scrambled, panicking, trying to
think of some possible excuse.
“You don’t have to lie. I’m trying to help you, you know.”
She flushed, embarrassed to have been so transparent.
“Th-then, why areyouhere during lunch?”
“I like changing into heels before gym. It pisses Coach Henry off to no end.”
The bell rang, making Alphys jump. Micheal stood up, brushing imaginary lint
off himself. All of a sudden, he reached down and grabbed one of Alphys’s
hands. His was cold, and she recoiled just a bit.
“Be here again tomorrow, alright? I’ll meet you.” He said, so casually, as if
he wasn’t holding hands with her, almost a total stranger.
He gave her hand a tiny squeeze, and just like that, he was off, sashaying the
whole way.
* * *
“Alphys, honey, you know I love you, but I swear to fucking Christ, if you
start wearing cat ears, I’m going to have to cut any and all ties with you.”
“Awww, but they’re kind of cute!” Alphys reluctantly put them back on the
shelf.
“What would you do without me? Hmmm… you know, this is actually kind of cute.”
He said, holding up a black and red checked skirt.
Chapter End Notes
     Wait, she isn't dead, Shia surprise
     I really have no excuse for how long this took. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
     Metta and Alphys have a friendship dynamic that I love exploring,
     especially when it's them in middle school in their more base,
     vulnerable states.
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