Just Cause
An Undertale Fanfiction
Chapter 11: Dating WTF?!
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: Looking For a Bad Time
Chapter 2: What The Killer Gave Up
Chapter 3: A Dangerous Path
Chapter 4: Fatal Mistakes
Chapter 5: Surrendered Memories
Chapter 6: Revenge?
Chapter 7: The Person I Was
Chapter 8: Leaving Hope Behind
Chapter 9: Seeking the Source
Chapter 10: Uncertain Friendship
Chapter 11: Dating WTF?! (you are here)
Chapter 12: I Don’t Know How to Feel
Chapter 13: Mutual Protection
Chapter 14: Spear of Torment
Chapter 15: Saved by Fire
Chapter 16: Welcome to the Show
Chapter 17: Nostalgia
Chapter 18: The Only Two I Thought I Had
Chapter 1: Looking For a Bad Time
Chapter 2: What The Killer Gave Up
Chapter 3: A Dangerous Path
Chapter 4: Fatal Mistakes
Chapter 5: Surrendered Memories
Chapter 6: Revenge?
Chapter 7: The Person I Was
Chapter 8: Leaving Hope Behind
Chapter 9: Seeking the Source
Chapter 10: Uncertain Friendship
Chapter 11: Dating WTF?! (you are here)
Chapter 12: I Don’t Know How to Feel
Chapter 13: Mutual Protection
Chapter 14: Spear of Torment
Chapter 15: Saved by Fire
Chapter 16: Welcome to the Show
Chapter 17: Nostalgia
Chapter 18: The Only Two I Thought I Had
The room was dark. The people were statue-still. And as the memories of Flowey’s attack and threats filled their head, Frisk’s mind threatened to echo their surroundings.
Does Sans know Flowey?
The frozen dam of panic burst, sending a flood of thoughts rushing through them. Is Flowey pretending to be his friend? Are they on the same side? Are they working together and setting a trap? Or is Flowey an enemy Sans wants to know more about? Or… does Sans think I’M working with Flowey?
“I… heard of one,” they ventured, their words slowed by their mind’s frantic warning that they might not want him to know. It was always hard to predict how a grownup would react to them knowing things, but the reaction to lying was always bad.
“So you know all about. The echo flower.” Sans’ voice was still casual, but there was a strange weight to his words, as if this flower was profoundly – or dangerously – important.
“Echo flower? Is that what that was? I don’t actually know that much, so… could you tell me about it? If you aren’t too busy and you want to?” I hope I’m not wasting his time. And that he can tell me something helpful.
To their relief, Sans’ relaxed smile didn’t falter. “Sure. They’re all over the marsh.”
There’s more than one of them?! And they’re all over the place I have to go through next?!
If Sans noticed their panic, he didn’t overtly react. “Say something to them, and they’ll repeat it over and over.”
Oh – that’s not the same kind of flower as Flowey. I think. So why are echo flowers so important, then? “That… doesn’t sound so bad. How come you wanted to ask me about them?”
“Well, Papyrus told me something interesting the other day. Sometimes, when no one else is around, a flower appears and whispers things to him. Flattery… advice… encouragement… predictions. Weird, huh?”
“Yeah… weird…” This is bad. Flowers don’t get predictions just by echoing people. But they could get them by going back and forth in time, like me or… like Flowey.
It was hard to read Sans’ nearly immobile face, but they could have sworn he was staring at them harder than before, a cunning gleam in his huge, dark eye sockets. “Someone must be using an echo flower to play a trick on him. Keep an eye out, okay?”
His tone of mild, casual concern hadn’t changed, but Frisk couldn’t help but feel like he suspected something worse than his own mundane suggestion. Their answering nod was small and tight, and their voice echoed it as they stammered, “O… okay.”
Should I tell him about Flowey? Do I want him to know that some people can time travel?
If I tell him Flowey’s secret, will Flowey tell him mine? What will Sans do if he finds out I killed people?
Sans’ warm reply of “Thanks” felt like more than they deserved, but before Frisk could decide how much to tell him, the frozen darkness around them faded, letting light and movement back into the room.
With the casual calm of a person whose job was done, Sans hopped down from his chair, tilting backward as if to stretch his spine. “Well, that was a long break. I can’t believe I let ya pull me away from work for that long.”
But it was your idea! Fear thundered through their chest, and the sheer unfairness of his accusation left them fighting to keep a scowl off their face. You can’t get mad at me for something that was your fault!
But he could. Grownups got to do that. And if he decided to punish them for it, there might not be anything they could do about it.
Best to just set fairness aside, and placate him before anything bad happened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought you wanted to be at Grillby’s.”
“Of course I did. They have the best fries and burgers here, even if they did run out of fried snow.”
Once again, he seemed to stare at their face harder than usual, then his shoulders sagged in a pose of exaggerated relaxation. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I was just messing with you. Besides, I was still keeping an eye on you, so I’m technically doing at least part of my job.”
Right… he was supposed to watch out for humans. Is that a good thing or bad thing at this point? “Okay… I guess… as long as neither of us gets in trouble…”
“Like I said, don’t worry about it. Oh, by the way…” His grin widened slightly. “I’m flat broke. Can you foot the bill?”
“WHA-” Their heart launched itself into their throat and turned to stone, choking their voice into a strangled squeak. But I already told him I couldn’t buy anything!
What happens to people down here when they can’t pay their bills?
“It’s just ten thousand gold,” Sans added, and Frisk’s world began to fade into a dark, humming blur.
Ten thousand gold. I can never pay that back. I barely make enough money to buy enough healing items for the next fight, never mind having to pay ten thousand before I can ever buy anything for myself again! How does anyone afford to eat here?!
Are they going to send loan sharks after me? Probably LITERAL sharks, who eat people who can’t pay?!
“I…” They glanced at Grillby, expecting to see him glaring at them, but fire monster was calmly wiping a glass as if nothing was wrong. Their eyes returned to Sans, and they whispered, “I only have two gold.”
To their relief, Sans’ grin got wider. “Just kidding. Grillby, put it on my tab.”
Frisk’s eyes darted back to the bartender just in time to see him nod, and their hands trembled with unused adrenaline as they watched Sans stroll toward the door. Then he turned to face them again, and added, “By the way…”
Don’t get scared, Frisk – whatever it is, he’s probably kidding…
“I was going to say something, but I forgot.”
“Oh.” Their head was still humming and fogged, but they forced their numb, shaky voice to add, “Okay.”
And then he was gone, the door closing quietly in his wake, and they slumped against the bar as they listened to his footsteps crunch away across the snow.
He’s not going to hurt you, Frisk. Stop freaking out.
They wished they could believe it. So far, it seemed to be true.
But grownups were still grownups, and this world was still this world. It was probably just a matter of time.
In the meantime, their fries were still sitting there, and Frisk knew better than to not clean their plate. I’ll eat all the fries. I’ll thank Grillby. I’ll be good. And hopefully no one here will want to fight, and there won’t be anything more dangerous than echo flowers in the marsh.
~*~*~*~
The snow crunched softly beneath Frisk’s shoes as they reluctantly left the warmth of Grillby’s. Their stomach was tight from the two plates of lukewarm fries they had forced themselves to finish, and their mind felt even fuller as they debated whether or not to find Sans and tell him about Flowey.
One the one hand, if Flowey was interacting with Papyrus, Papyrus might be in danger.
But if the flower DID have hostile intentions toward the strange skeleton, wouldn’t he want them to stay a secret? What if Flowey found out they’d been talking about him, and got angry – at Frisk, or Papyrus, or both? Would he do something worse than whatever he was planning in the first place?
What if he attacked them, or – possibly even worse – told Sans their awful secret?
Flowey knows I killed people. I don’t think Sans knows yet, and I never want him to know.
Guilt and fear churned through their gut, and their tiny hands curled.
Sans was nice to me. He gave me his fries, and he trusted me enough to ask me to keep an eye out for something that might hurt his brother. And then I wasn’t honest with him.
I should probably tell him about Flowey, especially if there’s a chance that Flowey might be tricking Papyrus and thinking about using friendliness pellets on him.
Besides, I want to know what Flowey said to Papyrus. Especially the predictions.
I should tell Sans. But I won’t mention it to Papyrus, in case Sans wasn’t supposed to tell m-
“SO YOU CAME BACK TO HAVE A DATE WITH ME!”
The loud voice wrenched them from their thoughts, and Frisk yelped and whipped around to see Papyrus standing in front of a big, warm-looking house with Christmas lights and a pair of mailboxes whose owners could be identified without even looking at the names.
The skeleton’s face shone with friendliness, but the child stiffened nonetheless as phantom echoes of pain lanced through their legs and head.
Is he going to attack me again? I already know that he’ll hurt me to get what he wants, so what if he wants something that involves hurting me again?
Fortunately for their attempts to mask their fear, Papyrus was glancing off to the side, his gaze straying away from the human and into the realm of ambivalent, concerned contemplation. “You must be really serious about this.”
And you must not be really happy about this. You sound pretty unsure.
I must have really screwed up the flirting.
Still, despite the uneasy angle of his eyebrows, Papyrus seemed to decide to make the best of the situation. “I’ll have to take you someplace really special… a place I like to spend a lot of time!!!”
With that, his face brightened, and he suddenly bolted down the street. Not sure what else to do, Frisk dashed after him, scrambling to keep up with the towering skeleton’s distance-devouring stride.
Papyrus power-walked past the library, and as the building after it drew near, their already-strained stomach sank.
Are we going to Grillby’s again? I don’t think I can eat any more- why did he just turn around?
The young traveler watched in bewilderment as the skeleton spun a quick half-circle around them, and they jogged behind him as he hastened down the street… back to the place he’d just speed-walked away from.
“My house!!!” he announced proudly, then darted inside, leaving Frisk to meander dazedly in his wake.
Whether he’s planning to hurt me or not, I get the feeling this is going to be really weird.
~*~*~*~
Man. As he watched the shenanigans from his bedroom window, Sans reveled in the feeling of a genuine grin.
Whether the two of them fall for each other or not, this is gonna be hilarious.
Screw sentry duty. I have to eavesdrop on this.
~*~*~*~
Frisk had expected the inside of the house to be weirder. They weren’t quite sure WHAT kind of weirdness they’d been expecting; probably furniture made of bones, a few rows of blades and cannons on the walls, and spaghetti plastered across every available surface.
Instead, the weirdest things that immediately came into view were the sprinkle-covered rock on a table, the impractically high sink, and the fact that someone out there had thought that shade of purple belonged on walls.
Then again, there was a chance that Sans had had a hand in the house’s interior design, and they wouldn’t put it past him to choose a strange color scheme just to bother Papyrus.
“Welcome to scenic my house!” the tall skeleton announced, jolting them out of their thoughts. “Enjoy and take your time!!!”
“Okay… thanks…” The child glanced around, hoping that was what they were supposed to be doing. He wants me to enjoy it… I should find something I enjoy and compliment him for it. That should help keep him happy and calm.
A trail of sticky notes on the wall caught their eye, and they cautiously moved toward it, as if prowling like a cat could avoid drawing the attention of a person who was already staring at them. A sock lay at the end of the notes, and Frisk crouched down to take a closer look.
That sock is small – it’s probably Sans’. Papyrus did say he was starting a sock collection. But why is it still here, after Papyrus told him to pick it up? Is Sans TRYING to get in trouble?
It was probably best not to draw attention to it. Instead, they glanced around again, and this time the stairs caught their gaze.
I wonder where those go. Their bedrooms, probably.
I wonder if there are any other bedrooms up there. The thought hit them with a frigid jolt, and their stomach shrank into a small rock in their gut.
Do they have a father? Will Papyrus get in trouble with him for having me here? Or a mother?Are any skeleton monsters women, and would I be able to tell?
I think there was a difference you could see, but I don’t remember much from that chapter of my anatomy book. Or from anything that happened on the day I think I read it.
A strange, flickering light caught their attention, and with a watchful eye on Papyrus to see if he would object, they crept silently up the stairs, staring in bewilderment at the dancing, colored flames that lapped at the carpet outside the farthest door.
“What’s happening in there?” they asked, and the skeleton’s expression flattened.
“That’s Sans’s part of the house. But I prefer not to discuss his part of it. His room is… it’s like another world! A world where they don’t know how to vacuum. You’re best staying away from that strange place.”
A frown of concern stole across Frisk’s forehead, and they pointed to the light. “But what about that? The crack under the door is glowing. What if his room is on fire?”
A soft click beside them made them jump, and alarm mingled with relief as a familiar skeleton appeared with a trombone in his hand.
“Waw-waw-waaaawwwww!”
And then, as swiftly as he’d appeared, he retreated wordlessly into the strangely glowing room, pursued by Papyrus’ shout of “STOP MOCKING THE HUMAN’S CONCERN FOR YOUR LIFE WITH INCIDENTAL MUSIC!”
For a moment, Frisk stood outside Sans’ room, blinking confusedly and trying to decide what to do.
I need to at least check.
Their hand carefully grasped the doorknob and gave it a small, hesitant jiggle. The metal resisted with a stubborn rattle, the light continued to dance, and from somewhere inside Sans’ room, a faint rustling could be heard.
Is that noise fire? He isn’t screaming, and fire hurts too much not to make you scream.
Still, I want to be sure.
Leaning closer to the door, Frisk called, “Does that mean your bedroom isn’t on fire?”
The wooden barrier remained where it was, but somewhere behind it, a familiar voice burst into laughter.
Either the room isn’t burning, and it’s funny that I thought it was, or he’s gone crazy and he’s laughing while he burns.
Papyrus doesn’t look worried. Just annoyed.
I’m gonna assume his room isn’t on fire.
As they wandered back toward the stairs, they glanced at the other door. This one was more thoroughly but mundanely decorated; the plethora of signs gave no warning that the house was about to be consumed by magic rainbow flame, but they did seem to indicate a bias against gender-binary people.
No boys or girls allowed… it’s a good thing I’m neither… but wait a minute…
“Papyrus?”
“Yes, human?”
“Is that your room?”
“Indeed! You gaze upon the well-marked entrance to scenic my room!”
“But, um… I thought you were a boy. Because Sans said you were brothers.”
Papyrus’ angular face flared with indignation, sending a prickling rush of fear through the child. “Of course I am not a boy! The great Papyrus is a fully grown and responsible adult, with many important responsibilities. Like feeding Sans’ pet rock! And reminding him to read his junk mail!! Which he still never does!!!”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say you were a kid – just that you were male!”
“Ah, I see!” To their relief, he brightened instantly. “Of course a person as smart as you would realize I am far too tall and handsome to be a child.”
“Yes… of course…”
So he just doesn’t like children being in his room? At least, binary children?
Is that why Sans locked his room? Does he not like having children in his room either? Or is it because he has books like my father’s that he doesn’t want us to look at, and binary children like my brother are more likely to read books they shouldn’t?
No, that wouldn’t make sense – the monsters in the library seemed to have no problem with me reading about monsters.
“Anyway,” Papyrus’ voice drew them from their thoughts, “if you’ve finished looking around, we could go in and… do whatever people do when they date???”
“Okay…” I have no idea what to do on a date. But Papyrus doesn’t either, so maybe he won’t notice? Though, some of the stuff I saw in movies…
They nodded uncertainly, and the skeleton led the way through his door and into a strange land of flame-patterned carpet, action figures, bones in a box, books that were presumably not forbidden, an oddly-placed motor vehicle, and a computer.
The box of bones drew their attention first, and they bent over it for a closer look. Seeing their interest, Papyrus commented, “Hey, those are all the attacks I used on you. Great memories, huh?”
Somewhere in the next room, there was the soft sound of something semi-soft hitting something hard, and Frisk wondered of Sans had run into something with his slipper. Or finally set his room on fire.
Or maybe heard his brother’s comment and performed an appropriate facepalm.
Whatever it was, it did nothing to relieve the vise of anxiety that tried to crush their back and chest. He isn’t sorry at all. It doesn’t feel like yesterday to me – looking at these bones and listening to him talk, it feels like it’s going to start happening again right now.
I have to distract him. Maybe he won’t remember to attack me until after I’m gone.
“What do you do on the computer?” they asked, pointing to the inert mechanical box. “Do you draw pictures and do schoolwork and-”
No, I shouldn’t suggest that he try to guess the password for the internet. If he’s not allowed on it, I could get him in trouble.
“The internet!”
Did he read my mind?!
“I’m quite popular there.”
Sudden fascination drove the fear from Frisk’s mind, and they stepped closer to the device. “You get to go on the internet?”
“Indeed! I’m a very famous person there! In fact, I’m just a dozen away from a double digit follower count!”
“Followers?” Their eyes darted to the screen, then back to Papyrus. “You want people to follow you? What are you leading them to?”
There it was again, a noise from what they assumed was Sans’ room. This time it sounded like a half-stifled guffaw.
“To a wonderful virtual world filled with my coolness and fame!”
Frisk tried to picture what that would look like. The first image that came to mind was a lot of people watching bone attacks on skateboards, but they couldn’t help but suspect they were getting it wrong.
“Of course,” Papyrus complained, his face darkening into a glare, “fame has a steep price. A jealous online troll has besieged my online persona. Always sending me bad puns in a goofy font.”
I wonder if there’s any chance whatsoever that it isn’t Sans.
So, people can communicate with each other through the internet? And get followers and lead them to strange places?
Maybe that’s why I wasn’t allowed on it.
I wonder, though…
A sudden thought jolted through them, pulling their nervously hunched body straight, and they spun to face their host. “Papyrus?”
“Yes?”
“Can your internet communicate with the surface?”
“Oh ho! You want to use my computer to call home! Well, the great Papyrus is known for nothing if not his generosity, except perhaps also for his exceptional handsomeness, great taste in clothing, and imminent career in the Royal Guard. But, um…”
The hope that had taken flight in Frisk began to fade, then crashed to the ground as the skeleton’s cheerful tone dropped. “Internet signals can’t escape through the barrier.
“Though, the brilliant Dr. Alphys has theorized that communication with the surface might be possible, if a communication device with a dimensional box were to be transported to the outside world, so the signal could pass through the dimensional subspace where our items are stored!
His tone, which had risen briefly into eager enthusiasm, fell again. “Unfortunately, phones and computers don’t have powerful souls, so they can’t go through the barrier. Oh, well!”
Yet again, his mercurial spirits bounced back up. “I guess you’ll have to call home after you leave the Underground. AND you’ll be able to call ME! Which is twice as great!!!”
So I still have to escape before I can warn anyone about the killer. Damn. The human’s small body slumped. “Okay.”
Perceiving the drop in his guest’s mood, Papyrus looked thoughtful for a moment, then gestured toward the biggest, most attention-grabbing object in the room besides himself. “Hey, look at this! This is my bed!”
The car is your bed? That’s what you do with cars? But father never slept in his car, and the inside of his car didn’t look anything like this.
Before they could ask, the skeleton continued, “If I ever get to the surface, not only will I be able to signal the human internet and get even more followers, but I also plan to drive down a long highway. Wind in my hair… sun on my skin…”
His face fell, his eyes straying to the side. “Of course, that’s just a dream.” And then, just like that, his mood brightened again. “So instead, I cruise while I snooze.”
Beds that drove down highways. Flowers that talked and killed. Rocks that moved. Skeletons that tried to rub toxic-smelling beauty products and dreamed of feeling weather on body parts they didn’t have.
Nothing was not real anymore. Except for surface-reaching internet connections with which they could find a sane solution to the twisted conglomeration of shouldn’t-be-reality that was their life, like maybe calling the police.
They were still staring at the bed, and now it was Papyrus’ turn to start looking confused. “Why are you so interested in my bed? Are you tired?”
His bed… now that was an uncomfortable reminder. That’s right – we’re on a date. I remember seeing a movie where people went on a date, and then they got into a bed and started taking each other’s clothes off and petting each other. Naked. And they were kind of panting and humming.
Is Papyrus going to want to do that?
The thought made them instinctively step away from the bed, their skin crawling slightly. I don’t know why, but something about that movie made me really uncomfortable.
But maybe it’s silly to react that way. Greater Dog jumped out of its armor after I petted it, and several of the dogs panted, and lots of monsters run around naked.
Is it because somebody petted them? Is taking off your clothes what you’re supposed to do after you’re petted? If we don’t take our clothes off and pet each other, are we doing the date wrong?
I guess, if he asks, I could do it. But I really don’t want to. Doing that with a skeleton sounds hard and bumpy and uncomfortable.
Doing it with ANYONE sounds uncomfortable. If he doesn’t ask, I’m not going to bring it up.
So what SHOULD we do?
The child padded up to Papyrus, staring hesitantly up at the tall monster. They were half relieved to see that he looked as uncomfortable and uncertain as they felt; his glance had strayed away from them, and his voice was stumbling and awkward as he mumbled, “So, um… if you’ve seen everything… do you want to start the date?”
We weren’t on a date yet? Is that why he didn’t suggest petting each other? Maybe I should leave… but what if he gets upset?
I guess we could try having the date… part of me is scared, but part of me is also kind of curious about what happens on a date.
“I guess so,” they replied, trying to sound less nervous than they felt.
To their relief, Papyrus perked up, his face suddenly brightening. “Okay!!! Dating start!!! Here we are!! On our date!!”
Note to self: announce the start of dates.
“I’ve actually never done this before.”
Or maybe don’t take notes from him.
“But don’t worry!!! You can’t spell ‘prepared’ without several letters from my name!!!” His hand darted to and from his pelvis – or was that his pocket? The appendage had moved too fast to tell.
Despite having been informed that it was rude to stare at that part of people’s anatomy, Frisk couldn’t help but study the clearly too-small area from which the skeleton had just produced a book. Where was he keeping it?!
There was no time to ask; their focus was seized by the need to pay attention while Papyrus asserted that his official dating rulebook would prepare them to have a great time, forcing the question into a quiet, nagging corner in the back of their mind.
And then he told them to bring up a “dating HUD,” and as the air flickered with magical windows showing the population, day of the week, a command to “reel it in!”, ambiguous dots that symbolized crime, a dog in radar, and an egg, Frisk decided to file everything about this encounter in the category of “weird and unexplainable stuff that is apparently real in the Underground.”
At least it sounds like he feels more informed than I do. Which is to say, he’s saying “step two” like he knows what it is.
“Step two… ask them on a date.”
But… I thought we were on a date when I came into your house. And then we weren’t. And I thought the date started a few seconds ago before I brought up the HUD thing. Are you saying we still aren’t?
This is getting too weird. And I’m still worried about the naked petting thing.
“Human! I, the great Papyrus, will go on a date with you!”
He didn’t even ask. I didn’t even get an option this time. Will I not get an option later?
I don’t want to make him mad. But even if I don’t, I don’t know what he’s going to do. I have to get out of here. “Um… can we maybe… I mean… no?”
They thought they had braced themselves for any possible reaction, but Papyrus proved them wrong. Smiling from behind his dating book, he cheerfully replied, “Fortunately, it only says to ask!!! I guess that means it’s time for part three!!!”
By now, Frisk’s head was a whirlpool of disturbing possibilities, and they wondered what else he might “only have to ask” about before continuing regardless of their consent. He already beat me up three times; what else is he going to-
“Put on nice clothes to show you care!”
Oh. Okay. That sounds reasonably safe… and… crap.
I don’t have any nice clothes.
“Wait a second… wear clothing…” Papyrus’ voice briefly lowered to a tone of breathless shock, before launching back into a joyful shout. “That faded ribbon… you’re wearing clothing right now!!!”
That’s the only clothing you see?! Frisk’s panicked eyes raced downward, and they were relieved to find that everything besides the ribbon had not, in fact, magically disappeared and left them naked in Papyrus’ house.
On a day like this, they would have only been half surprised.
“Not only that… earlier today, you were also wearing clothing!”
Oh, good, it didn’t mysteriously disappear earlier, either.
“No… could it be???”
His bony cheeks turned pink, and confusion spun through Frisk’s mind before they forcefully shoved it aside. Of COURSE he can blush without blood. Skeletons can do anything down here. Even move.
“You’ve wanted to date me from the very beginning?!!”
“You mean… before we even met? Um… no, I thought you were going to capture me… and you did, so… um…”
Eyeballs suddenly bulged from his head, and Frisk jolted back a step, their own eyes widening as Papyrus loudly mused, “Despite that, you chose to wear clothing today, of all days…?”
Is that unusual? Do people down here who sometimes wear clothes have days when they don’t wear anything? Do Sans, Papyrus and Toriel have days when they just go wandering around naked? Maybe because someone petted them?
“Was your interest in me… predestined?”
Interest? But I already said no!
“N-NOOOO! Your dating power!”
My WHAT?!
The skeleton jolted as if he’d been struck, then forced a strange hybrid of smile and glare, along with a “Nyeh! Nyeh heh heh!” that started out slow, then built to a loud declaration of defiance. “Don’t think you’ve bested me yet! I, the great Papyrus, have never been beaten at dating, and I never will!”
And yet, he was beginning to sweat. And something in Frisk was starting to awaken.
It looks like I can’t get out of this date by saying no. The only way out is through.
And if winning this date is what it takes, then screw his unbeaten dating streak. I’ll beat him at dating, no matter what.
“I can easily keep up with you!!!” the skeleton insisted, and the edge of Frisk’s mouth pulled into a smile.
Let’s see you try.
…Wait. The smile fell into a frown. I don’t know how to get ahead in dating. Do I have to date him faster? Or harder? Or something? Do I have to wear more clothes?
“You see, I, too, can wear clothing!” Papyrus exclaimed, and Frisk's stare darted up and down his battle body.
But you already…
“In fact… I always wear my ‘special’ clothes underneath my regular clothes!! Just in case somebody happens to ask me on a date!!!”
Well, this should be good.
“Behold!”
I was wrong.
“Nyeh!” he crowed, proudly posing in his sneakers, shorts, “Cool Dude” crop top, and sideways baseball cap. “What do you think of my secret style?”
“Um…” Most of it isn’t that bad, but… “Are those basketballs on your shoulders?”
“Ah-ha! Very observant, human! These are, indeed, MTT-brand fashion basketballs! For only the most stylish skeletons! Never once thrown through a net! Because, not only can they not be inflated, due to having large holes to accommodate my impressive biceps, but they are for wearing! Not playing!”
“…Okay.”
“So??? What do you think?”
“It, uh… it’s… unique. I… like it?”
I’m actually not sure how I feel about it, but I don’t want to make him mad, or have an argument over basketballs. Or fashion. Or biceps.
Wait, does he have invisible biceps? Are invisible muscles how they move?
“NO!!!”
AAAH, okay, no invisible muscles-
“A genuine compliment…!!!”
And now I feel guilty.
Papyrus was jolting again, and Frisk began to wonder if monsters’ attunement to their souls could cause them to take actual damage from dating. Is that how you win dating fights? You cause dating damage until their name turns yellow?
I’ll have to be careful not to accidentally date-kill him.
“However,” the skeleton protested, regaining his footing, “you don’t truly understand the HIDDEN POWER of this outfit!!! Therefore… what you just said is invalid!!!”
Annoyed defiance rose against the challenge in his words, and Frisk’s tiny body stood straighter. What I said isn’t invalid! …Okay, it wasn’t honest, so it probably wasn’t really valid, but… I still said it! And you still believed it! So you can’t deduct dating points or dating damage because of it unless your outfit’s power is really good!
“This date won’t escalate any further!!! Unless you find my secret!! But that won’t happen!!”
The swell of determination rose to its peak, then surged forward, guided by squinting concentration. A secret in his outfit… let’s see… people usually hide secrets in their pants. Like what body parts they have. And books. Books that shouldn’t fit in their underwear, but do.
Their finger leveled itself in the direction of his shorts, only to be rebuffed by the declaration that there was no secret to his legs – only hard work and perseverance.
Their fists clenched, their jaw set, and they squinted harder. I won’t give up. I’ll keep trying. I’ll find the secret in his outfit, even if it smells like… sickly-sweet MTT fumes… and old, rotting, gross… bananas?
They took a step closer, their nose wrinkling slightly as they searched for the source of the scent, and a small frown tugged at their brow as they pointed to what seemed to be the epicenter of the noxious cloud. “Is it your hat?”
“My hat…? MY HAT! Nyeh heh heh!”
The baseball cap levitated, and Frisk stared in utter bafflement at the neatly-wrapped present that sat on Papyrus’ head. That wasn’t there before. The hat was flush with his head. THERE WAS NOTHING THERE!
Don’t question it. Talking rocks, time traveling flowers, just don’t question ANYTHING…
“It’s a present! A present j-just for you!”
For a moment, gratitude and hope welled in Frisk’s chest. He may be dragging me on a weird date, and he smells like he turned into fruit and died, but at least he’s being nice about it.
Then the horrible realization hit, and their stomach did a somersault.
Wait… that present… it’s the source of the smell, isn’t it? Oh noooo…
“I, uh...” It’s probably rude to refuse a present just because it stinks. “Thanks.” I don’t wanna open it, I don’t wanna open it – OH NO, I opened it a bit, and it stinks even worse – AAAAH!
It was spaghetti. Of COURSE it was spaghetti, reeking of bananas that were irredeemably, possibly lethally past their “best before” date.
“Do you know what this is?” Papyrus asked eagerly, and Frisk tried to force their brain to find words amid the toxic sensory fog.
“Um...” Rotten bananas, mixed into spaghetti…
“Spaghetti! That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
Well, that was ONE of the words I was thinking, but I don’t think you’d like the rest…
“Right! But oh-so wrong! This ain’t any plain ol’ pasta! This is an artisan’s work! Silken spaghetti, finely aged in an oaken cask…”
Spaghetti made of silk and aged in a casket? EWWWW!
“Then cooked by me, master chef Papyrus! Human!!! It’s time to end this!!”
He’s going to kill me with the spaghetti.
“There’s no way this can go any further!”
Not without him killing me with the spaghetti. I… I…
The churning of their stomach was interrupted by a jolt of memory, and a new but all-too-familiar type of sickness dropped into their gut. I know what happens when you refuse to eat something someone cooked for you. I can’t afford for that to happen now. Not in a place where so many people want me dead.
I’m better off just eating it.
Frisk forced their hand to stay steady as they moved a single, hesitant bite to their mouth. The scent was overpowering, the taste reminiscent of a rotting fruity grave, and their face collapsed into a cringe of revulsion as they struggled not to throw up.
A flicker of pain shot through their stomach, and they were alarmed to realize that the bite had not only failed to heal them, but had actually cost them one of their HP.
Oh, no. It’s really happening. He really is killing me with spaghetti.
I have to stop.
To their relief, when they lifted their watering eyes to Papyrus, the skeleton showed no sign of being angered by their hesitation or maliciously pleased by their decision to fall for his second spaghetti trap. Instead, he looked flattered.
“What a passionate expression!!! You must really love my cooking! And by extension, me!!! Maybe even more than I do!!! AUGH!”
OH NO! Papyrus was jolting again, and the HUD warned that their dating power was rising to dangerous levels. Frisk hastily set the plate on the floor, then hurried toward the would-be chef. “Are you okay?”
“URRRGH! NOOOOOOOO!!!”
As their dating power shattered the limits of its bar, the magic HUD flared blindingly white. Frisk squeezed their eyes shut, and after a moment of strange, ominous silence, a trembling voice emerged from the glare.
“Human. It’s clear now. You’re madly in love with me. Everything you do. Everything you say. It’s all been for my sake.”
Whew. Frisk’s shoulders slumped with relief. He isn’t dead. Just deluded.
“Human,” the voice continued, “I want you to be happy, too. It’s time for me to express my feelings. It’s time that I told you. I, Papyrus…”
The eye-searing glare faded, leaving Papyrus standing there, having reclaimed the spaghetti and placed it back on his head.
“I… um…” His gaze shifted awkwardly, unable to meet Frisk’s eyes, then he dragged his uneasy, sweat-framed stare back to their face. “Boy, is it hot in here, or is it just me? …Oh, shoot.”
Again, his eyes strayed from Frisk, and the human was surprised to recognize the expression on his face.
Guilt.
“Human, I… I’m sorry. I don’t like you the way you like me.”
I kind of got that when you beat me within an inch of my life three times.
“Romantically, I mean.”
Oh.
Panic flared in his suddenly-bugged eyes, and he hastened to add, “I mean, I tried very hard to! I thought that because you flirted with me… that I was supposed to go on a date with you. Then, on the date, feelings would blossom forth!!! I would be able to match your passion for me!
“But alas, I, the great Papyrus… have failed. I feel just the same as before.”
Oh. The reek of old bananas faded from their mind, drowned out by the implications of his words. I was starting to think he liked me more than I liked him, but…
But he tried to. And even when he TRIED to like me, he still couldn’t. Just like when I tried to be friends with him before our fight.
Tears burned behind their eyes, and their teeth dug into the inside of their cheek, fighting to hold back the tide. Am I really that unlikable?
Is that why so many people tried to kill me? Is that why he’d rather hurt me so he could possibly get other friends than be friends with me, even if he wasn’t sure they would really like him?
The monster was still talking, and Frisk forced themselves to listen. “And instead, by dating you… I have only drawn you deeper into your intense love for me! A dark prison of passion, with no escape.”
Dark prison… that part feels right. Is there really no escape?
“How could I have done this to my dear friend…?”
Friend? A small jolt ran through Frisk, a hint of Papyrus’ friendship power breaking through the clouds and lighting up the dark. Their eyes lifted to meet his, slightly damp from lonely pain and the smell of oak-aged banana, and their mouth opened to ask if he really meant it.
“No! Wait! That’s wrong!” His voice split the air like a shotgun blast, and Frisk flinched.
Of course. He can’t be friends with me. I’m a human, and he can’t like me even if he tries. He has to capture me.
“I can’t fail at anything!!!”
He can’t let himself fail to capture me. He’s the skeleton who tries real hard.
“Human!!! I’ll help you through these trying times!!!”
“…Huh?” Their dismal train of thought derailed, and their eyes went wide.
“I’ll keep being your cool friend...”
“You will?” You mean… you’re not going to stop being friends with me and beat me up again?
“And act like this all never happened.”
“Um…” I’m not sure how to feel about that.
But if this date never happened, then I don’t have to eat the spaghetti. “Yeah. I think that would be for the best.”
“Absolutely dabsolutely! After all, you are very great. It would be tragic to lose your friendship.”
“It would?” I’m not gonna cry, I’m not gonna cry, I’m determined that I’m not… going… to…
“Of course! So please… don’t cry because I won’t kiss you. Because, I don’t even have lips. And hey, someday, you’ll find someone as great as me. …Well, no. That’s not true. But I’ll help you settle for second best!!! Nyeh heh heh heh heh!!!”
With that, he scampered out of the room, leaving Frisk standing frozen with their mouth open and a dozen unanswered questions competing for a place in their throat.
The door closed hastily behind the fleeing skeleton, only for the sound of his retreating footsteps to suddenly pause and reverse. A second later, Papyrus burst into the room like a lanky cannonball, flew across the intervening distance, and pressed a piece of paper into their hand.
“Oh, and if you ever need to reach me, here’s my phone number. You can call me any time! Platonically. Well, gotta go! Nyeh heh heh!”
And then he absconded for real, and Frisk was left alone in his room, their mind reeling from the emotional roller coaster on which they’d just been dragged.
That was the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me, even on a day like this. And for a few moments there, I thought he was going to start hurting me again.
But… he didn’t. Even though I’m human, and even though he can’t like me romantically… whatever that means… and even though he thinks capturing me means getting his dream… he still wants to be friends.
Warmth swelled in their chest, gathering in small pools of fire behind their tired eyes. I think… we might actually be friends this time. No more beatings and capturing. At least, not from him.
If I can just avoid getting him to cook for me again, I think I’ll be okay.
Does Sans know Flowey?
The frozen dam of panic burst, sending a flood of thoughts rushing through them. Is Flowey pretending to be his friend? Are they on the same side? Are they working together and setting a trap? Or is Flowey an enemy Sans wants to know more about? Or… does Sans think I’M working with Flowey?
“I… heard of one,” they ventured, their words slowed by their mind’s frantic warning that they might not want him to know. It was always hard to predict how a grownup would react to them knowing things, but the reaction to lying was always bad.
“So you know all about. The echo flower.” Sans’ voice was still casual, but there was a strange weight to his words, as if this flower was profoundly – or dangerously – important.
“Echo flower? Is that what that was? I don’t actually know that much, so… could you tell me about it? If you aren’t too busy and you want to?” I hope I’m not wasting his time. And that he can tell me something helpful.
To their relief, Sans’ relaxed smile didn’t falter. “Sure. They’re all over the marsh.”
There’s more than one of them?! And they’re all over the place I have to go through next?!
If Sans noticed their panic, he didn’t overtly react. “Say something to them, and they’ll repeat it over and over.”
Oh – that’s not the same kind of flower as Flowey. I think. So why are echo flowers so important, then? “That… doesn’t sound so bad. How come you wanted to ask me about them?”
“Well, Papyrus told me something interesting the other day. Sometimes, when no one else is around, a flower appears and whispers things to him. Flattery… advice… encouragement… predictions. Weird, huh?”
“Yeah… weird…” This is bad. Flowers don’t get predictions just by echoing people. But they could get them by going back and forth in time, like me or… like Flowey.
It was hard to read Sans’ nearly immobile face, but they could have sworn he was staring at them harder than before, a cunning gleam in his huge, dark eye sockets. “Someone must be using an echo flower to play a trick on him. Keep an eye out, okay?”
His tone of mild, casual concern hadn’t changed, but Frisk couldn’t help but feel like he suspected something worse than his own mundane suggestion. Their answering nod was small and tight, and their voice echoed it as they stammered, “O… okay.”
Should I tell him about Flowey? Do I want him to know that some people can time travel?
If I tell him Flowey’s secret, will Flowey tell him mine? What will Sans do if he finds out I killed people?
Sans’ warm reply of “Thanks” felt like more than they deserved, but before Frisk could decide how much to tell him, the frozen darkness around them faded, letting light and movement back into the room.
With the casual calm of a person whose job was done, Sans hopped down from his chair, tilting backward as if to stretch his spine. “Well, that was a long break. I can’t believe I let ya pull me away from work for that long.”
But it was your idea! Fear thundered through their chest, and the sheer unfairness of his accusation left them fighting to keep a scowl off their face. You can’t get mad at me for something that was your fault!
But he could. Grownups got to do that. And if he decided to punish them for it, there might not be anything they could do about it.
Best to just set fairness aside, and placate him before anything bad happened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought you wanted to be at Grillby’s.”
“Of course I did. They have the best fries and burgers here, even if they did run out of fried snow.”
Once again, he seemed to stare at their face harder than usual, then his shoulders sagged in a pose of exaggerated relaxation. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I was just messing with you. Besides, I was still keeping an eye on you, so I’m technically doing at least part of my job.”
Right… he was supposed to watch out for humans. Is that a good thing or bad thing at this point? “Okay… I guess… as long as neither of us gets in trouble…”
“Like I said, don’t worry about it. Oh, by the way…” His grin widened slightly. “I’m flat broke. Can you foot the bill?”
“WHA-” Their heart launched itself into their throat and turned to stone, choking their voice into a strangled squeak. But I already told him I couldn’t buy anything!
What happens to people down here when they can’t pay their bills?
“It’s just ten thousand gold,” Sans added, and Frisk’s world began to fade into a dark, humming blur.
Ten thousand gold. I can never pay that back. I barely make enough money to buy enough healing items for the next fight, never mind having to pay ten thousand before I can ever buy anything for myself again! How does anyone afford to eat here?!
Are they going to send loan sharks after me? Probably LITERAL sharks, who eat people who can’t pay?!
“I…” They glanced at Grillby, expecting to see him glaring at them, but fire monster was calmly wiping a glass as if nothing was wrong. Their eyes returned to Sans, and they whispered, “I only have two gold.”
To their relief, Sans’ grin got wider. “Just kidding. Grillby, put it on my tab.”
Frisk’s eyes darted back to the bartender just in time to see him nod, and their hands trembled with unused adrenaline as they watched Sans stroll toward the door. Then he turned to face them again, and added, “By the way…”
Don’t get scared, Frisk – whatever it is, he’s probably kidding…
“I was going to say something, but I forgot.”
“Oh.” Their head was still humming and fogged, but they forced their numb, shaky voice to add, “Okay.”
And then he was gone, the door closing quietly in his wake, and they slumped against the bar as they listened to his footsteps crunch away across the snow.
He’s not going to hurt you, Frisk. Stop freaking out.
They wished they could believe it. So far, it seemed to be true.
But grownups were still grownups, and this world was still this world. It was probably just a matter of time.
In the meantime, their fries were still sitting there, and Frisk knew better than to not clean their plate. I’ll eat all the fries. I’ll thank Grillby. I’ll be good. And hopefully no one here will want to fight, and there won’t be anything more dangerous than echo flowers in the marsh.
~*~*~*~
The snow crunched softly beneath Frisk’s shoes as they reluctantly left the warmth of Grillby’s. Their stomach was tight from the two plates of lukewarm fries they had forced themselves to finish, and their mind felt even fuller as they debated whether or not to find Sans and tell him about Flowey.
One the one hand, if Flowey was interacting with Papyrus, Papyrus might be in danger.
But if the flower DID have hostile intentions toward the strange skeleton, wouldn’t he want them to stay a secret? What if Flowey found out they’d been talking about him, and got angry – at Frisk, or Papyrus, or both? Would he do something worse than whatever he was planning in the first place?
What if he attacked them, or – possibly even worse – told Sans their awful secret?
Flowey knows I killed people. I don’t think Sans knows yet, and I never want him to know.
Guilt and fear churned through their gut, and their tiny hands curled.
Sans was nice to me. He gave me his fries, and he trusted me enough to ask me to keep an eye out for something that might hurt his brother. And then I wasn’t honest with him.
I should probably tell him about Flowey, especially if there’s a chance that Flowey might be tricking Papyrus and thinking about using friendliness pellets on him.
Besides, I want to know what Flowey said to Papyrus. Especially the predictions.
I should tell Sans. But I won’t mention it to Papyrus, in case Sans wasn’t supposed to tell m-
“SO YOU CAME BACK TO HAVE A DATE WITH ME!”
The loud voice wrenched them from their thoughts, and Frisk yelped and whipped around to see Papyrus standing in front of a big, warm-looking house with Christmas lights and a pair of mailboxes whose owners could be identified without even looking at the names.
The skeleton’s face shone with friendliness, but the child stiffened nonetheless as phantom echoes of pain lanced through their legs and head.
Is he going to attack me again? I already know that he’ll hurt me to get what he wants, so what if he wants something that involves hurting me again?
Fortunately for their attempts to mask their fear, Papyrus was glancing off to the side, his gaze straying away from the human and into the realm of ambivalent, concerned contemplation. “You must be really serious about this.”
And you must not be really happy about this. You sound pretty unsure.
I must have really screwed up the flirting.
Still, despite the uneasy angle of his eyebrows, Papyrus seemed to decide to make the best of the situation. “I’ll have to take you someplace really special… a place I like to spend a lot of time!!!”
With that, his face brightened, and he suddenly bolted down the street. Not sure what else to do, Frisk dashed after him, scrambling to keep up with the towering skeleton’s distance-devouring stride.
Papyrus power-walked past the library, and as the building after it drew near, their already-strained stomach sank.
Are we going to Grillby’s again? I don’t think I can eat any more- why did he just turn around?
The young traveler watched in bewilderment as the skeleton spun a quick half-circle around them, and they jogged behind him as he hastened down the street… back to the place he’d just speed-walked away from.
“My house!!!” he announced proudly, then darted inside, leaving Frisk to meander dazedly in his wake.
Whether he’s planning to hurt me or not, I get the feeling this is going to be really weird.
~*~*~*~
Man. As he watched the shenanigans from his bedroom window, Sans reveled in the feeling of a genuine grin.
Whether the two of them fall for each other or not, this is gonna be hilarious.
Screw sentry duty. I have to eavesdrop on this.
~*~*~*~
Frisk had expected the inside of the house to be weirder. They weren’t quite sure WHAT kind of weirdness they’d been expecting; probably furniture made of bones, a few rows of blades and cannons on the walls, and spaghetti plastered across every available surface.
Instead, the weirdest things that immediately came into view were the sprinkle-covered rock on a table, the impractically high sink, and the fact that someone out there had thought that shade of purple belonged on walls.
Then again, there was a chance that Sans had had a hand in the house’s interior design, and they wouldn’t put it past him to choose a strange color scheme just to bother Papyrus.
“Welcome to scenic my house!” the tall skeleton announced, jolting them out of their thoughts. “Enjoy and take your time!!!”
“Okay… thanks…” The child glanced around, hoping that was what they were supposed to be doing. He wants me to enjoy it… I should find something I enjoy and compliment him for it. That should help keep him happy and calm.
A trail of sticky notes on the wall caught their eye, and they cautiously moved toward it, as if prowling like a cat could avoid drawing the attention of a person who was already staring at them. A sock lay at the end of the notes, and Frisk crouched down to take a closer look.
That sock is small – it’s probably Sans’. Papyrus did say he was starting a sock collection. But why is it still here, after Papyrus told him to pick it up? Is Sans TRYING to get in trouble?
It was probably best not to draw attention to it. Instead, they glanced around again, and this time the stairs caught their gaze.
I wonder where those go. Their bedrooms, probably.
I wonder if there are any other bedrooms up there. The thought hit them with a frigid jolt, and their stomach shrank into a small rock in their gut.
Do they have a father? Will Papyrus get in trouble with him for having me here? Or a mother?Are any skeleton monsters women, and would I be able to tell?
I think there was a difference you could see, but I don’t remember much from that chapter of my anatomy book. Or from anything that happened on the day I think I read it.
A strange, flickering light caught their attention, and with a watchful eye on Papyrus to see if he would object, they crept silently up the stairs, staring in bewilderment at the dancing, colored flames that lapped at the carpet outside the farthest door.
“What’s happening in there?” they asked, and the skeleton’s expression flattened.
“That’s Sans’s part of the house. But I prefer not to discuss his part of it. His room is… it’s like another world! A world where they don’t know how to vacuum. You’re best staying away from that strange place.”
A frown of concern stole across Frisk’s forehead, and they pointed to the light. “But what about that? The crack under the door is glowing. What if his room is on fire?”
A soft click beside them made them jump, and alarm mingled with relief as a familiar skeleton appeared with a trombone in his hand.
“Waw-waw-waaaawwwww!”
And then, as swiftly as he’d appeared, he retreated wordlessly into the strangely glowing room, pursued by Papyrus’ shout of “STOP MOCKING THE HUMAN’S CONCERN FOR YOUR LIFE WITH INCIDENTAL MUSIC!”
For a moment, Frisk stood outside Sans’ room, blinking confusedly and trying to decide what to do.
I need to at least check.
Their hand carefully grasped the doorknob and gave it a small, hesitant jiggle. The metal resisted with a stubborn rattle, the light continued to dance, and from somewhere inside Sans’ room, a faint rustling could be heard.
Is that noise fire? He isn’t screaming, and fire hurts too much not to make you scream.
Still, I want to be sure.
Leaning closer to the door, Frisk called, “Does that mean your bedroom isn’t on fire?”
The wooden barrier remained where it was, but somewhere behind it, a familiar voice burst into laughter.
Either the room isn’t burning, and it’s funny that I thought it was, or he’s gone crazy and he’s laughing while he burns.
Papyrus doesn’t look worried. Just annoyed.
I’m gonna assume his room isn’t on fire.
As they wandered back toward the stairs, they glanced at the other door. This one was more thoroughly but mundanely decorated; the plethora of signs gave no warning that the house was about to be consumed by magic rainbow flame, but they did seem to indicate a bias against gender-binary people.
No boys or girls allowed… it’s a good thing I’m neither… but wait a minute…
“Papyrus?”
“Yes, human?”
“Is that your room?”
“Indeed! You gaze upon the well-marked entrance to scenic my room!”
“But, um… I thought you were a boy. Because Sans said you were brothers.”
Papyrus’ angular face flared with indignation, sending a prickling rush of fear through the child. “Of course I am not a boy! The great Papyrus is a fully grown and responsible adult, with many important responsibilities. Like feeding Sans’ pet rock! And reminding him to read his junk mail!! Which he still never does!!!”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say you were a kid – just that you were male!”
“Ah, I see!” To their relief, he brightened instantly. “Of course a person as smart as you would realize I am far too tall and handsome to be a child.”
“Yes… of course…”
So he just doesn’t like children being in his room? At least, binary children?
Is that why Sans locked his room? Does he not like having children in his room either? Or is it because he has books like my father’s that he doesn’t want us to look at, and binary children like my brother are more likely to read books they shouldn’t?
No, that wouldn’t make sense – the monsters in the library seemed to have no problem with me reading about monsters.
“Anyway,” Papyrus’ voice drew them from their thoughts, “if you’ve finished looking around, we could go in and… do whatever people do when they date???”
“Okay…” I have no idea what to do on a date. But Papyrus doesn’t either, so maybe he won’t notice? Though, some of the stuff I saw in movies…
They nodded uncertainly, and the skeleton led the way through his door and into a strange land of flame-patterned carpet, action figures, bones in a box, books that were presumably not forbidden, an oddly-placed motor vehicle, and a computer.
The box of bones drew their attention first, and they bent over it for a closer look. Seeing their interest, Papyrus commented, “Hey, those are all the attacks I used on you. Great memories, huh?”
Somewhere in the next room, there was the soft sound of something semi-soft hitting something hard, and Frisk wondered of Sans had run into something with his slipper. Or finally set his room on fire.
Or maybe heard his brother’s comment and performed an appropriate facepalm.
Whatever it was, it did nothing to relieve the vise of anxiety that tried to crush their back and chest. He isn’t sorry at all. It doesn’t feel like yesterday to me – looking at these bones and listening to him talk, it feels like it’s going to start happening again right now.
I have to distract him. Maybe he won’t remember to attack me until after I’m gone.
“What do you do on the computer?” they asked, pointing to the inert mechanical box. “Do you draw pictures and do schoolwork and-”
No, I shouldn’t suggest that he try to guess the password for the internet. If he’s not allowed on it, I could get him in trouble.
“The internet!”
Did he read my mind?!
“I’m quite popular there.”
Sudden fascination drove the fear from Frisk’s mind, and they stepped closer to the device. “You get to go on the internet?”
“Indeed! I’m a very famous person there! In fact, I’m just a dozen away from a double digit follower count!”
“Followers?” Their eyes darted to the screen, then back to Papyrus. “You want people to follow you? What are you leading them to?”
There it was again, a noise from what they assumed was Sans’ room. This time it sounded like a half-stifled guffaw.
“To a wonderful virtual world filled with my coolness and fame!”
Frisk tried to picture what that would look like. The first image that came to mind was a lot of people watching bone attacks on skateboards, but they couldn’t help but suspect they were getting it wrong.
“Of course,” Papyrus complained, his face darkening into a glare, “fame has a steep price. A jealous online troll has besieged my online persona. Always sending me bad puns in a goofy font.”
I wonder if there’s any chance whatsoever that it isn’t Sans.
So, people can communicate with each other through the internet? And get followers and lead them to strange places?
Maybe that’s why I wasn’t allowed on it.
I wonder, though…
A sudden thought jolted through them, pulling their nervously hunched body straight, and they spun to face their host. “Papyrus?”
“Yes?”
“Can your internet communicate with the surface?”
“Oh ho! You want to use my computer to call home! Well, the great Papyrus is known for nothing if not his generosity, except perhaps also for his exceptional handsomeness, great taste in clothing, and imminent career in the Royal Guard. But, um…”
The hope that had taken flight in Frisk began to fade, then crashed to the ground as the skeleton’s cheerful tone dropped. “Internet signals can’t escape through the barrier.
“Though, the brilliant Dr. Alphys has theorized that communication with the surface might be possible, if a communication device with a dimensional box were to be transported to the outside world, so the signal could pass through the dimensional subspace where our items are stored!
His tone, which had risen briefly into eager enthusiasm, fell again. “Unfortunately, phones and computers don’t have powerful souls, so they can’t go through the barrier. Oh, well!”
Yet again, his mercurial spirits bounced back up. “I guess you’ll have to call home after you leave the Underground. AND you’ll be able to call ME! Which is twice as great!!!”
So I still have to escape before I can warn anyone about the killer. Damn. The human’s small body slumped. “Okay.”
Perceiving the drop in his guest’s mood, Papyrus looked thoughtful for a moment, then gestured toward the biggest, most attention-grabbing object in the room besides himself. “Hey, look at this! This is my bed!”
The car is your bed? That’s what you do with cars? But father never slept in his car, and the inside of his car didn’t look anything like this.
Before they could ask, the skeleton continued, “If I ever get to the surface, not only will I be able to signal the human internet and get even more followers, but I also plan to drive down a long highway. Wind in my hair… sun on my skin…”
His face fell, his eyes straying to the side. “Of course, that’s just a dream.” And then, just like that, his mood brightened again. “So instead, I cruise while I snooze.”
Beds that drove down highways. Flowers that talked and killed. Rocks that moved. Skeletons that tried to rub toxic-smelling beauty products and dreamed of feeling weather on body parts they didn’t have.
Nothing was not real anymore. Except for surface-reaching internet connections with which they could find a sane solution to the twisted conglomeration of shouldn’t-be-reality that was their life, like maybe calling the police.
They were still staring at the bed, and now it was Papyrus’ turn to start looking confused. “Why are you so interested in my bed? Are you tired?”
His bed… now that was an uncomfortable reminder. That’s right – we’re on a date. I remember seeing a movie where people went on a date, and then they got into a bed and started taking each other’s clothes off and petting each other. Naked. And they were kind of panting and humming.
Is Papyrus going to want to do that?
The thought made them instinctively step away from the bed, their skin crawling slightly. I don’t know why, but something about that movie made me really uncomfortable.
But maybe it’s silly to react that way. Greater Dog jumped out of its armor after I petted it, and several of the dogs panted, and lots of monsters run around naked.
Is it because somebody petted them? Is taking off your clothes what you’re supposed to do after you’re petted? If we don’t take our clothes off and pet each other, are we doing the date wrong?
I guess, if he asks, I could do it. But I really don’t want to. Doing that with a skeleton sounds hard and bumpy and uncomfortable.
Doing it with ANYONE sounds uncomfortable. If he doesn’t ask, I’m not going to bring it up.
So what SHOULD we do?
The child padded up to Papyrus, staring hesitantly up at the tall monster. They were half relieved to see that he looked as uncomfortable and uncertain as they felt; his glance had strayed away from them, and his voice was stumbling and awkward as he mumbled, “So, um… if you’ve seen everything… do you want to start the date?”
We weren’t on a date yet? Is that why he didn’t suggest petting each other? Maybe I should leave… but what if he gets upset?
I guess we could try having the date… part of me is scared, but part of me is also kind of curious about what happens on a date.
“I guess so,” they replied, trying to sound less nervous than they felt.
To their relief, Papyrus perked up, his face suddenly brightening. “Okay!!! Dating start!!! Here we are!! On our date!!”
Note to self: announce the start of dates.
“I’ve actually never done this before.”
Or maybe don’t take notes from him.
“But don’t worry!!! You can’t spell ‘prepared’ without several letters from my name!!!” His hand darted to and from his pelvis – or was that his pocket? The appendage had moved too fast to tell.
Despite having been informed that it was rude to stare at that part of people’s anatomy, Frisk couldn’t help but study the clearly too-small area from which the skeleton had just produced a book. Where was he keeping it?!
There was no time to ask; their focus was seized by the need to pay attention while Papyrus asserted that his official dating rulebook would prepare them to have a great time, forcing the question into a quiet, nagging corner in the back of their mind.
And then he told them to bring up a “dating HUD,” and as the air flickered with magical windows showing the population, day of the week, a command to “reel it in!”, ambiguous dots that symbolized crime, a dog in radar, and an egg, Frisk decided to file everything about this encounter in the category of “weird and unexplainable stuff that is apparently real in the Underground.”
At least it sounds like he feels more informed than I do. Which is to say, he’s saying “step two” like he knows what it is.
“Step two… ask them on a date.”
But… I thought we were on a date when I came into your house. And then we weren’t. And I thought the date started a few seconds ago before I brought up the HUD thing. Are you saying we still aren’t?
This is getting too weird. And I’m still worried about the naked petting thing.
“Human! I, the great Papyrus, will go on a date with you!”
He didn’t even ask. I didn’t even get an option this time. Will I not get an option later?
I don’t want to make him mad. But even if I don’t, I don’t know what he’s going to do. I have to get out of here. “Um… can we maybe… I mean… no?”
They thought they had braced themselves for any possible reaction, but Papyrus proved them wrong. Smiling from behind his dating book, he cheerfully replied, “Fortunately, it only says to ask!!! I guess that means it’s time for part three!!!”
By now, Frisk’s head was a whirlpool of disturbing possibilities, and they wondered what else he might “only have to ask” about before continuing regardless of their consent. He already beat me up three times; what else is he going to-
“Put on nice clothes to show you care!”
Oh. Okay. That sounds reasonably safe… and… crap.
I don’t have any nice clothes.
“Wait a second… wear clothing…” Papyrus’ voice briefly lowered to a tone of breathless shock, before launching back into a joyful shout. “That faded ribbon… you’re wearing clothing right now!!!”
That’s the only clothing you see?! Frisk’s panicked eyes raced downward, and they were relieved to find that everything besides the ribbon had not, in fact, magically disappeared and left them naked in Papyrus’ house.
On a day like this, they would have only been half surprised.
“Not only that… earlier today, you were also wearing clothing!”
Oh, good, it didn’t mysteriously disappear earlier, either.
“No… could it be???”
His bony cheeks turned pink, and confusion spun through Frisk’s mind before they forcefully shoved it aside. Of COURSE he can blush without blood. Skeletons can do anything down here. Even move.
“You’ve wanted to date me from the very beginning?!!”
“You mean… before we even met? Um… no, I thought you were going to capture me… and you did, so… um…”
Eyeballs suddenly bulged from his head, and Frisk jolted back a step, their own eyes widening as Papyrus loudly mused, “Despite that, you chose to wear clothing today, of all days…?”
Is that unusual? Do people down here who sometimes wear clothes have days when they don’t wear anything? Do Sans, Papyrus and Toriel have days when they just go wandering around naked? Maybe because someone petted them?
“Was your interest in me… predestined?”
Interest? But I already said no!
“N-NOOOO! Your dating power!”
My WHAT?!
The skeleton jolted as if he’d been struck, then forced a strange hybrid of smile and glare, along with a “Nyeh! Nyeh heh heh!” that started out slow, then built to a loud declaration of defiance. “Don’t think you’ve bested me yet! I, the great Papyrus, have never been beaten at dating, and I never will!”
And yet, he was beginning to sweat. And something in Frisk was starting to awaken.
It looks like I can’t get out of this date by saying no. The only way out is through.
And if winning this date is what it takes, then screw his unbeaten dating streak. I’ll beat him at dating, no matter what.
“I can easily keep up with you!!!” the skeleton insisted, and the edge of Frisk’s mouth pulled into a smile.
Let’s see you try.
…Wait. The smile fell into a frown. I don’t know how to get ahead in dating. Do I have to date him faster? Or harder? Or something? Do I have to wear more clothes?
“You see, I, too, can wear clothing!” Papyrus exclaimed, and Frisk's stare darted up and down his battle body.
But you already…
“In fact… I always wear my ‘special’ clothes underneath my regular clothes!! Just in case somebody happens to ask me on a date!!!”
Well, this should be good.
“Behold!”
I was wrong.
“Nyeh!” he crowed, proudly posing in his sneakers, shorts, “Cool Dude” crop top, and sideways baseball cap. “What do you think of my secret style?”
“Um…” Most of it isn’t that bad, but… “Are those basketballs on your shoulders?”
“Ah-ha! Very observant, human! These are, indeed, MTT-brand fashion basketballs! For only the most stylish skeletons! Never once thrown through a net! Because, not only can they not be inflated, due to having large holes to accommodate my impressive biceps, but they are for wearing! Not playing!”
“…Okay.”
“So??? What do you think?”
“It, uh… it’s… unique. I… like it?”
I’m actually not sure how I feel about it, but I don’t want to make him mad, or have an argument over basketballs. Or fashion. Or biceps.
Wait, does he have invisible biceps? Are invisible muscles how they move?
“NO!!!”
AAAH, okay, no invisible muscles-
“A genuine compliment…!!!”
And now I feel guilty.
Papyrus was jolting again, and Frisk began to wonder if monsters’ attunement to their souls could cause them to take actual damage from dating. Is that how you win dating fights? You cause dating damage until their name turns yellow?
I’ll have to be careful not to accidentally date-kill him.
“However,” the skeleton protested, regaining his footing, “you don’t truly understand the HIDDEN POWER of this outfit!!! Therefore… what you just said is invalid!!!”
Annoyed defiance rose against the challenge in his words, and Frisk’s tiny body stood straighter. What I said isn’t invalid! …Okay, it wasn’t honest, so it probably wasn’t really valid, but… I still said it! And you still believed it! So you can’t deduct dating points or dating damage because of it unless your outfit’s power is really good!
“This date won’t escalate any further!!! Unless you find my secret!! But that won’t happen!!”
The swell of determination rose to its peak, then surged forward, guided by squinting concentration. A secret in his outfit… let’s see… people usually hide secrets in their pants. Like what body parts they have. And books. Books that shouldn’t fit in their underwear, but do.
Their finger leveled itself in the direction of his shorts, only to be rebuffed by the declaration that there was no secret to his legs – only hard work and perseverance.
Their fists clenched, their jaw set, and they squinted harder. I won’t give up. I’ll keep trying. I’ll find the secret in his outfit, even if it smells like… sickly-sweet MTT fumes… and old, rotting, gross… bananas?
They took a step closer, their nose wrinkling slightly as they searched for the source of the scent, and a small frown tugged at their brow as they pointed to what seemed to be the epicenter of the noxious cloud. “Is it your hat?”
“My hat…? MY HAT! Nyeh heh heh!”
The baseball cap levitated, and Frisk stared in utter bafflement at the neatly-wrapped present that sat on Papyrus’ head. That wasn’t there before. The hat was flush with his head. THERE WAS NOTHING THERE!
Don’t question it. Talking rocks, time traveling flowers, just don’t question ANYTHING…
“It’s a present! A present j-just for you!”
For a moment, gratitude and hope welled in Frisk’s chest. He may be dragging me on a weird date, and he smells like he turned into fruit and died, but at least he’s being nice about it.
Then the horrible realization hit, and their stomach did a somersault.
Wait… that present… it’s the source of the smell, isn’t it? Oh noooo…
“I, uh...” It’s probably rude to refuse a present just because it stinks. “Thanks.” I don’t wanna open it, I don’t wanna open it – OH NO, I opened it a bit, and it stinks even worse – AAAAH!
It was spaghetti. Of COURSE it was spaghetti, reeking of bananas that were irredeemably, possibly lethally past their “best before” date.
“Do you know what this is?” Papyrus asked eagerly, and Frisk tried to force their brain to find words amid the toxic sensory fog.
“Um...” Rotten bananas, mixed into spaghetti…
“Spaghetti! That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
Well, that was ONE of the words I was thinking, but I don’t think you’d like the rest…
“Right! But oh-so wrong! This ain’t any plain ol’ pasta! This is an artisan’s work! Silken spaghetti, finely aged in an oaken cask…”
Spaghetti made of silk and aged in a casket? EWWWW!
“Then cooked by me, master chef Papyrus! Human!!! It’s time to end this!!”
He’s going to kill me with the spaghetti.
“There’s no way this can go any further!”
Not without him killing me with the spaghetti. I… I…
The churning of their stomach was interrupted by a jolt of memory, and a new but all-too-familiar type of sickness dropped into their gut. I know what happens when you refuse to eat something someone cooked for you. I can’t afford for that to happen now. Not in a place where so many people want me dead.
I’m better off just eating it.
Frisk forced their hand to stay steady as they moved a single, hesitant bite to their mouth. The scent was overpowering, the taste reminiscent of a rotting fruity grave, and their face collapsed into a cringe of revulsion as they struggled not to throw up.
A flicker of pain shot through their stomach, and they were alarmed to realize that the bite had not only failed to heal them, but had actually cost them one of their HP.
Oh, no. It’s really happening. He really is killing me with spaghetti.
I have to stop.
To their relief, when they lifted their watering eyes to Papyrus, the skeleton showed no sign of being angered by their hesitation or maliciously pleased by their decision to fall for his second spaghetti trap. Instead, he looked flattered.
“What a passionate expression!!! You must really love my cooking! And by extension, me!!! Maybe even more than I do!!! AUGH!”
OH NO! Papyrus was jolting again, and the HUD warned that their dating power was rising to dangerous levels. Frisk hastily set the plate on the floor, then hurried toward the would-be chef. “Are you okay?”
“URRRGH! NOOOOOOOO!!!”
As their dating power shattered the limits of its bar, the magic HUD flared blindingly white. Frisk squeezed their eyes shut, and after a moment of strange, ominous silence, a trembling voice emerged from the glare.
“Human. It’s clear now. You’re madly in love with me. Everything you do. Everything you say. It’s all been for my sake.”
Whew. Frisk’s shoulders slumped with relief. He isn’t dead. Just deluded.
“Human,” the voice continued, “I want you to be happy, too. It’s time for me to express my feelings. It’s time that I told you. I, Papyrus…”
The eye-searing glare faded, leaving Papyrus standing there, having reclaimed the spaghetti and placed it back on his head.
“I… um…” His gaze shifted awkwardly, unable to meet Frisk’s eyes, then he dragged his uneasy, sweat-framed stare back to their face. “Boy, is it hot in here, or is it just me? …Oh, shoot.”
Again, his eyes strayed from Frisk, and the human was surprised to recognize the expression on his face.
Guilt.
“Human, I… I’m sorry. I don’t like you the way you like me.”
I kind of got that when you beat me within an inch of my life three times.
“Romantically, I mean.”
Oh.
Panic flared in his suddenly-bugged eyes, and he hastened to add, “I mean, I tried very hard to! I thought that because you flirted with me… that I was supposed to go on a date with you. Then, on the date, feelings would blossom forth!!! I would be able to match your passion for me!
“But alas, I, the great Papyrus… have failed. I feel just the same as before.”
Oh. The reek of old bananas faded from their mind, drowned out by the implications of his words. I was starting to think he liked me more than I liked him, but…
But he tried to. And even when he TRIED to like me, he still couldn’t. Just like when I tried to be friends with him before our fight.
Tears burned behind their eyes, and their teeth dug into the inside of their cheek, fighting to hold back the tide. Am I really that unlikable?
Is that why so many people tried to kill me? Is that why he’d rather hurt me so he could possibly get other friends than be friends with me, even if he wasn’t sure they would really like him?
The monster was still talking, and Frisk forced themselves to listen. “And instead, by dating you… I have only drawn you deeper into your intense love for me! A dark prison of passion, with no escape.”
Dark prison… that part feels right. Is there really no escape?
“How could I have done this to my dear friend…?”
Friend? A small jolt ran through Frisk, a hint of Papyrus’ friendship power breaking through the clouds and lighting up the dark. Their eyes lifted to meet his, slightly damp from lonely pain and the smell of oak-aged banana, and their mouth opened to ask if he really meant it.
“No! Wait! That’s wrong!” His voice split the air like a shotgun blast, and Frisk flinched.
Of course. He can’t be friends with me. I’m a human, and he can’t like me even if he tries. He has to capture me.
“I can’t fail at anything!!!”
He can’t let himself fail to capture me. He’s the skeleton who tries real hard.
“Human!!! I’ll help you through these trying times!!!”
“…Huh?” Their dismal train of thought derailed, and their eyes went wide.
“I’ll keep being your cool friend...”
“You will?” You mean… you’re not going to stop being friends with me and beat me up again?
“And act like this all never happened.”
“Um…” I’m not sure how to feel about that.
But if this date never happened, then I don’t have to eat the spaghetti. “Yeah. I think that would be for the best.”
“Absolutely dabsolutely! After all, you are very great. It would be tragic to lose your friendship.”
“It would?” I’m not gonna cry, I’m not gonna cry, I’m determined that I’m not… going… to…
“Of course! So please… don’t cry because I won’t kiss you. Because, I don’t even have lips. And hey, someday, you’ll find someone as great as me. …Well, no. That’s not true. But I’ll help you settle for second best!!! Nyeh heh heh heh heh!!!”
With that, he scampered out of the room, leaving Frisk standing frozen with their mouth open and a dozen unanswered questions competing for a place in their throat.
The door closed hastily behind the fleeing skeleton, only for the sound of his retreating footsteps to suddenly pause and reverse. A second later, Papyrus burst into the room like a lanky cannonball, flew across the intervening distance, and pressed a piece of paper into their hand.
“Oh, and if you ever need to reach me, here’s my phone number. You can call me any time! Platonically. Well, gotta go! Nyeh heh heh!”
And then he absconded for real, and Frisk was left alone in his room, their mind reeling from the emotional roller coaster on which they’d just been dragged.
That was the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me, even on a day like this. And for a few moments there, I thought he was going to start hurting me again.
But… he didn’t. Even though I’m human, and even though he can’t like me romantically… whatever that means… and even though he thinks capturing me means getting his dream… he still wants to be friends.
Warmth swelled in their chest, gathering in small pools of fire behind their tired eyes. I think… we might actually be friends this time. No more beatings and capturing. At least, not from him.
If I can just avoid getting him to cook for me again, I think I’ll be okay.
Author's note:
The date with Papyrus was one of my favorite parts of the game. I cackled all the way through it, and it was actually the point where I decided I was definitely going to finish the game.
Sadly, Frisk is far too traumatized and paranoid to enjoy it as much as I did. But at least they finally made a friend!
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