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The Lovebird and the Pun-King	By : Otaku_Girl Category: +S through Z > UnderTale Views: 1066 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Undertale and I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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The sun is shining, birds are singing, and you can hear the faint laughter of children playing in the distance.
“Fuck my life.” You whimper, rolling yourself further into your blanket burrito. For several long, blissful minutes, you lay in your bed, the past disastrous evening still hazy. You had some weird dream about a skeleton in a diaper, right? That turned into a nightmare pretty quick when that other guy … “Why me?”
You can feel the mortification burning in the pit of your stomach. How could you have messed things up so badly, in such a short space of time? “They must think I’m a complete monsterphobe. Why else would someone do…” Your mind flashes back to the horrible warmth, and the cold, electric press against your throat “...that, when someone just puts a hand on their shoulder?”
Pulling on an old tee and sweats, you yank your hair into a messy bun. There is no way you are leaving the house today; you can’t take the chance of running into either of the brothers, not so soon. Shuffling into the kitchen, you stare blankly at the contents of your fridge. Just the thought of food make you feel sick.
“Poor Papyrus. I must have made him feel terrible. I wish I could make it up to him.” Your go-to apology has always been baking. Somehow, you don’t think giving homemade treats another shot will go any better the second time around. “Maybe it really would be best for everyone if I just…”
Just what? Leave? Where would I go? All of my money’s tied up in this place. I’m already behind on utilities, and it’s not exactly a seller’s market at the moment. I can’t even afford to repair my car right now. How the heck am I supposed to afford moving?
You make your way to the couch, flipping the TV on absentmindedly as you go. The latest series of Love Island flares to life. Ever since Mettaton had begun hosting, the show has become a heck of a lot more interesting. It seems as though half of the contestants would rather try to woo the beautiful robot than follow the script set out by the producers.
“Worthless. That’s what you are. A drain on everyone you meet. You should just do everyone a favour and kill yourself.”
Maybe… maybe your ex was right? He had always been ‘the normal one’ in your relationship. Doesn’t it make more sense that you are the one causing all the problems? What if he has been right all along?
“I should have listened to him.” You feel your nails biting into the soft flesh of your wrist, trying to drag you back to the moment and away from your darker thoughts. “It’s not too late. I could still…”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
“HELLO? HUMAN? ARE YOU IN THERE?”
You hiss, dragging your nails away from your wrist. Small rivets of blood ooze sluggishly from the torn skin. That can’t be…
“IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I MUST SPEAK WITH YOU. IF... IF YOU ARE IN THERE? HELLO?”
Oh god, he sounds so chipper and sad at the same time. How is he doing that? I can’t ignore that; it’s like kicking a metaphorical puppy.
You stand, making a move towards the door. As you approach, you can see his shadow looming over the frosted glass pane above your front door. What if Sans finds out? He seemed pretty serious…
Would Papyrus approaching you still count? You aren’t sure if you want to risk it.
“[Y/N]? DID I… DO SOMETHING WRONG? I THOUGHT WE COULD HAVE FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI TO SOLIDIFY OUR SPECIAL NEW RELATIONSHIP. BUT, I SEE I HAVE OVERSTEPPED MYSELF. I WILL LEAVE. I… will not bother you again. I am sorry.”
Before you realise, you find yourself blinking in the mid-morning sunlight. You couldn’t stand to hear the defeated tone coming from Papyrus. He seems far too innocent to be sounding like that. I don’t want to hurt him, not if… not if I can help it.
“P-please don’t apologise!” You had forgotten just how tall Papyrus really is. You lean back, straining to look up at his face. He looks so forlorn, and… hopeful? “I’m the one who should be apologising. I… am so, so sorry. About everything.” You cringe, looking down. Apologies have always brought back unpleasant memories for you.
“EVERYTHING?” Papyrus repeats, browbone furrowing.
How does he do that? You couldn’t help but think. “Yes.”
“OH.” He looks down. “EVEN… THE FRIENDSHIP COOKIES?” You follow his gaze. There in his hands sits your now empty tupperwear. “I FOUND THIS BY THE GATE, WITH A BROKEN BIRD BENEATH IT. I THOUGHT YOU BROUGHT THIS WITH YOU YESTERDAY?” He holds it out to you uncertainly.
“Ah-no, I mean, yes. Yes, I brought it with me. It was…” You force yourself to stop. Counting to five, you take a deep, steadying breath. Just calm down. Don’t even think about what could happen. Just stay calm, and explain. “I saw the decorations on my way home last night, and I thought it would be nice and-and neighbourly, to bring you a house warming present.”
“PRESENT?” Is that… are the red glowing lights in his eyesockets turning into stars?
“I tend to make too many cookies when I’m baking anyway, and with Valentine's day coming up and all, I thought it would be, ah, sweet, to bring along a few homemade treats?” You trail off.
“YOU MEAN, YOU MADE THESE? JUST FOR US?” Papyrus asks, looking at you with literal stars in his eyes. You squirm in place.
“Ah...yes?” You confirm hesitantly, peeking up at him through loose strands of your hair.
“AND THAT… WASN’T A BAKING PUN YOU WERE MAKING THEN, WAS IT?” His tone takes on a stern edge. You shake your head. “WOWIE! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MADE THEM, JUST FOR US! THANK YOU, SMALL HUMAN! I WILL TREASURE THIS AND SHARE IT WITH SANS LATER.” Grinning, Papyrus cradles the sad, broken cookie in his hand.
“D-didn’t you say you’d found that one on the floor, P-Payrus?” You ask.
“I DID INDEED. I BELIEVE THE LAST BATCH OF TRICK-OR-TREATERS MUST HAVE EATEN THEM WHEN I RAN OUT OF NICECREAMS. I WILL HAVE TO RESTOCK AGAIN TO ALLOW THE FESTIVITIES TO CONTINUE.”
“You can’t eat that if it’s been on the ground. It could make you sick!” You scold the tall skeleton without thinking. You feel yourself stiffening. What if Papyrus doesn’t like being told what to do? What if… what if Sans hears you talking to his brother like that? Would that make him mad?
“BUT YOU MADE IT FOR ME! IT’S MINE!” He cradles the broken cookie, holding it away as though you might snatch it from him.
You aren’t quite sure what to do. Is Papyrus really worried you will take it back from him? That would just be mean. “I did make it for you. I didn’t mean I was going to take it away, or… or that I regret making it for you. I just meant, it might not still be edible. I…” What the heck am I doing? Don’t say it, don’t say it. Do not goddamned say it.
“Would you like to come in? I could make you a fresh batch as an apology? Or… or we could make a couple of batches together? If you’d like?” You offer, voice barely above a whisper.
“THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULD LOVE TO MAKE FRIENDSHIP BISCUITS WITH YOU, HUMAN! I AM SURE THEY CANNOT COMPARE TO MY FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI, BUT IT WOULD BE A MOST WONDROUS EXPERIENCE TO ADD A NEW RECIPE TO MY CULINARY REPERTOIRE. THAT WOULD BE MOST KIND OF YOU. MOST KIND!”
“Eep!” You can feel your feet leaving the ground, as Papyrus wraps his arms around you in a hug. Your arms hang limply by your sides. It has been so long since someone touched you without it hurting in some way, you… aren’t quite sure what to do.
“LEAD THE WAY! THE MORNING IS ALMOST OVER, AND CULINARY MASTERPIECES WAIT FOR NO SKELETON!”
What have I gotten myself into?
The two of you stand side by side. Your head barely comes up to his sternum, making quite the comical picture for any casual observers. Poor thing, having to stoop to just get inside. You have already had a few incidents where the tall skeleton monster’s over-enthusiasm has resulted in bumped heads and broken light fixtures, bringing a shower of paint chips and plaster down with him.
“Are you sure I can’t get you a bandaid for that, P-Papyrus? I think I’ve only got some Hello Kitty ones at the moment, but I wouldn’t want you to get an infection…” Can monsters even get infections from small grazes like humans do?
“THAT WOULD BE MOST WONDERFUL, IF IT WOULD NOT BE TOO MUCH TROUBLE?”
You smile, excusing yourself to go and grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. Just play it cool. Sans might not even notice when his brother comes home with a GIANT FLUORESCENT PINK KITTY PLASTER ON HIS FOREHEAD. He’s going to kill me.
You motion for Papyrus to sit on the barstool by your kitchen counter as you wipe his skull with a disinfectant wipe. “Hello Kitty or Pom Pom Purin?” You hold up his two options, before placing the bright yellow puppy plaster on his grazed head.
“I...AM MOST SORRY, HUMAN, FOR WHAT HAPPENED.” You continue putting away the first aid kit, waving him off with a smile.
“Don’t be silly! I should be the one apologising; I’m just sorry you got hurt. Hopefully, it isn’t too painful. I think I’ve still got a couple of painkillers if it’s feeling sore? Though I’m not sure of the dosage for someone of your… er, height.” Or how safe it is for monsters to take human medicine.
“THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEAN. I WANT TO APOLOGISE ON BEHALF OF MY BROTHER. FOR ALL THAT HE IS A NO-GOOD LAZYBONES, HE… HAS A GOOD HEART. WE HAVE NOT ALWAYS HAD THE BEST EXPERIENCE WITH HUMANS. HE TENDS TO ASSUME THE WORST.” Papyrus looks down, pushing his red glove covered fingers together. “THE NEIGHBOURHOOD WE LIVED IN PRIOR TO THIS WAS NOT AS... NICE AS THIS ONE APPEARS TO BE. HE IS PROTECTIVE OF ME - NOT THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS NEED HIS PROTECTION, OF COURSE, BUT-”
You lay a hand on his ulna. Offering him a gentle smile, you interrupt. “You don’t need to explain, Papyrus. He’s your brother. He obviously cares greatly about you. I don’t blame him for assuming the worst when it comes to us humans; as a species, we haven’t exactly got a great track record when it comes to, eh, being humane.” You reach up to brush your hair back nervously. You see his eyes lingering on your neck.
Oh god. I didn’t check to see if there are any marks. What if he can see them? What if…
“NYEHEHE. YOU AND MY BROTHER ARE SO ALIKE! NEITHER OF YOU GIVES YOURSELVES ENOUGH CREDIT. I THINK HUMANS ARE PRETTY GREAT!” Reaching out a hand, he seemed to hesitate a moment, before patting you on the head.
You feel the start of a genuine smile curving on your lips. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Paps, but from the ones I’ve met, I think monsters are pretty darn great. Present company included.” Your smile widens as a faint, orange blush glows across Papyrus’s cheeks.
He’s just so damned cute! How could anyone ever be mean to him? “Ah... where were we?” You draw his attention back to the waiting dough. “Do you want to pick out which shapes you’d like to make? I’ve got quite a few different ones to choose from.”
“OH, WOWIE! THAT’S A LOT OF SMALL METAL SHAPES!”
You laugh, as Papyrus pokes through your draw of cookie cutters. “It’s easier to have cutters for most shapes; making them freehand can take a lot more time and patience than I’ve usually got to spare, unless it’s a special occasion.”
You split the dough into two equal balls as Papyrus carefully sets about the task of finding The Perfect Cookie Shape. Your eye catches on one cutter in particular, making your stomach twist uncomfortably.
“THIS ONE WILL BE PERFECT!” You breathe a sigh of relief.
Oh thank you dear sweet fluffy kittens; I thought for a moment that might have been racist. Speciest? Skeleton-ist?
Of course Papyrus had found your Halloween collection of cookie cutters - complete with matching skull and bone shapes. “Tibia honest, I’d forgotten I had left that one in there.” You smile up at him.
“OH, THIS IS SO MUCH FUN! NEXT TIME YOU WILL HAVE TO COME OVER TO OUR PLACE, AND I WILL MAKE YOU MY SPECIAL FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI. I CANNOT SHARE MY EXACT RECIPE - THAT IS RESERVED FOR BEST FRIENDS, YOU UNDERSTAND - BUT PERHAPS ONE DAY, WE SHALL BE CLOSE ENOUGH THAT I WILL CONSIDER IT.”
Too. Many. Warm. Fuzzy. FEELS! “I-I would love that, Papyrus. Thank you.” You turn your back on the tall monster, an idea for your own dough quickly forming in your mind.
“Just up the stairs, second door on the left - you can’t miss it.” You usher Papyrus up towards your bathroom. Somehow he had managed to singe his trademark scarf, get dough stuck between his radius and ulna, and managed to make not one but two bags of flour explode everywhere. It now coated every surface like a thick, white layer of dust.
You were quick to wave away his offer to help clean up. “I’ll deal with this mess. You just go and freshen up. I need to keep an eye on the cookies anyway.”
Humming to yourself, you dump the cutters and mixing bowls in the sink. “Now, where did I leave that knife?” You search amongst the mounds of flour. “It’s going to take forever to clean up this mess.” You sneeze, a puff of white flour setting you off.
“w h a t d i d i s a y.”
Just as you reach for the missing knife, a flash of blue catches the corner of your eye. Flour falls around you in a dusty haze, as the blue glow pins you by the neck once more. You can feel it at your wrist this time as well, forcing you to drop the knife. It clatters to the floor in a shower of powder.
“n o... n o n o n o no .” His eyes are glowing again, burning brightly. He’s staring at the flour as though it is the most horrific sight he has ever seen. “ w h a t h a v e y o u d o n e.”
He sounds so angry. So...broken? “w h e n i a m f i n i s h e d w i t h y o u p a l, y o u ‘ r e g o n n a w i s h y o u ‘ d n e v e r -”
Why is he so close? What have I done? Calm. Calm. Just breathe. It isn’t him. Sans isn’t him. There has to be some kind of misunderstanding. It’s only flour. He can’t be this angry about a little wasted food, can he?
“... g o n n a h a v e s u c h a b a d t i m e.”
Oh god oh god oh god the knife is glowing. Why is he making the knife glow?
“Nononononono” You can’t even struggle against the blue glow; it’s holding you completely still now. It feels as though it is pressing against your chest. Is this another panic attack, or is he - is he literally stopping my...
“SANS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? PUT MY NEW FRIEND DOWN IMMEDIATELY! YOU ARE ALWAYS RUINING MY PLAYDATES!”
“...paps?”
The change is immediate. You sag, falling to the floor with a gasping, wet breath. Not a panic attack after all. You aren’t sure if this makes things better or worse, truth be told. Three sets of eyes shoot to the left, as the knife clatters to the floor.
“SANS? WHY... WHY WERE YOU MAKING [Y/N]’S PASTRY KNIFE LEVITATE? WERE YOU…” Oh Papyrus… you look between the two brothers. He shouldn’t be looking at Sans with such doubt; you know that much. The shorter skeleton may have done you no favours, but from what little you have seen - and the long, rambling tales Papyrus shared over the course of the morning - Sans really would do anything for his big-little brother.
“He was just helping me clean up. I-isn’t that right, S-Sans?” you croak from the floor,. Two sets of disbelieving eyes turn on you, as you nervously hold up one of the empty flour packets.
"...flour..."
“IS THIS TRUE, BROTHER?”
“...eh. you know me, paps. i always like to make sure i haven’t over-SWEPT my welcome.”
“I WASN’T EVEN AWARE YOU KNEW WHAT A BROOM WAS! IF THAT IS THE CASE, YOU WILL HAVE TO START ON THAT TRASH TORNADO IN YOUR BEDROOM. DON’T THINK I DIDN’T NOTICE YOU BRINGING IT WITH YOU. YOU’RE SUCH A LAZY-BONES!”
Slowly, you edge yourself away from the two brothers. Crawling backwards on your hands, shuffling along on your butt, you slip closer to the oven - and further away from both the knife and the arguing skeletons. Sans eyes flick towards you, drawing Papyrus’s attention back to you too.
“I, er… just need to check on the cookies?” You excuse yourself as you kneel up to peer through the glass oven door.
“ARE YOU SURE THE OVEN IS ON HIGH ENOUGH? IF FRIENDSHIP COOKIES ARE ANYTHING LIKE FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI, SHOULDN’T THE FLAMES OF BURNING PASSION BE VISIBLE?”
Just what kind of spaghetti does he usually cook?
“AND AS A HOLIDAY ALL ABOUT LOVE, SHOULDN’T THERE BE MORE PASSIONATE FLAMES, NOT LESS, [Y/N]?”
“Ah…” You glance back at the two of them, desperate to escape from the enclosed space. If Sans is this angry about a little spilled flour, how mad will he be when he spots the plaster on Papyrus’s head? “... not… really?”
“OH…” Papyrus looks down dejectedly.
“Valentine's day is more about sharing chocolate and flowers and small gifts with someone you care about to show them just how much you like them. It doesn’t have to involve fire or, er…” you glance at Sans nervously. “...or trick-or-treating. That’s usually just at Halloween.”
“BUT I THOUGHT - THE HOT COCOA AND SINGING...”
“Do you mean carolling? That’s usually at Christmas.”
“YOU MEAN GYFTMAS? SO MANY STRANGE TRADITIONS. THEY CANNOT BE INTERCHANGED BETWEEN HOLIDAYS?”
“Um… they aren’t usually, but… I don’t see why not?”
“EXCELLENT!” Papyrus beamed at you. “THEN I SHALL CONTINUE AS PLANNED WITH MY FRIENDSHIP COOKIE GIVING TONIGHT, UNTIL SOMEONE REMEMBERS TO RESTOCK OUR NICECREAM SUPPLY. SANS.”
Sans shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning back on his heels. “i’m getting there bro, i’m getting there. all you had to do was ask nicely .”
“IS THAT ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR AWFUL PUNS? MUST YOU DO THAT AROUND MY FRIEND, SANS? YOU WILL SCARE HER AWAY” Papyrus shakes his fist.
“she knows i’m just being humerous paps. no bones about it.” Sans grin took on a brittle edge, as he watches you open the oven. “... what are those.” He asks flatly, eyeing the rows of identical treats.
You feel your hands trembling within your oven mitts as you carefully lift the trays out. Biting your lip, you look down at the perfectly formed bone cookies Papyrus had made. “I-”
“OH MY GOSH, HUMAN! ARE-ARE THOSE-” Papyrus crowded behind you, his voice somehow getting even louder as he peered over your shoulder.
“i’m sure your new friend didn’t mean-”
Yup, that’s definitely not his happy face. How can someone so smiley be so terrifying?
“MY MASTERPIECES ARE COMPLETE!”
Those are definitely stars in his eyes. How does that even work? You carefully nudged Papyrus’s batch of bone cookies onto the cooling rack, before turning back to pull your own out from the oven.
Sans looks between the two of you blankly. “...yours?”
You both nod.
“...as in, paps made them?” Nod. “...without er… any… extra ingredients? Or… fire?”
“REALLY, SANS! YOU MAKE ME SOUND LIKE SOME KIND OF-OF AMETURE IN THE CULINARY ARTS! HOW COULD YOU? NO COOKIES FOR YOU!”
Sliding the final tray from the oven, you carefully lift your little creations onto the spare cooling rack. Keeping an eye on the two bickering brothers, you start packing up Papyrus's bones in a large, spare tupperwear box, pulling together everything he will need to ice them at home. Stooping down to grab a second container, you slip the others in, taking care not to break them.
“Ah, I-” you freeze, as two sets of eyes fall on you. “Here’s everything you should need to ice them at home once they’ve fully cooled down later, P-Papyrus. It was really fun baking with you. Thanks again for coming over, and, ah, sorry again about…”
Papyrus takes the outstretched container. “NO NEED TO APOLOGISE, HUMAN! THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE BAKING LESSON. OH! WHAT HAVE YOU GOT THERE? DID YOUR COOKIES NOT TURN OUT AS YOU HAD HOPED?”
Your hands clench uncertainty around the smaller box. I can do this. “I, ah, I thought I’d try remaking the housewarming cookies for you again? I kind of ran out of the right colouring to do another batch of lovebirds, so I thought…” You hold them out for him to take.
“...is that…”
“SPAGHETTI?”
You glance nervously between the two again. “You said it was your favourite? They aren’t really cool enough to ice yet, but I-”
“I DID NOT SEE A SPAGHETTI CUTTER! I DID NOT REALISE THAT WAS AN OPTION!” Papyrus interrupts.
“Er, no. They don’t really, um, make those? At least I don’t think they do. I made them freehand.”
“WOWIE.”
You blush, avoiding looking at either brother. “I could show you how to make them another time if you’d like? Or-or not. It was lovely having you over. S-sorry again for… just sorry. Thank you for coming by. Ah… Bye!” You dash past Papyrus, pulling the back door closed behind you. Sliding down the chipped paintwork, you can feel your cheeks burning. You hear the sound of footsteps retreating, along with the soft click of the front door opening and closing.
Someone knocks on the door behind you. “kid? you do realise this is your house, right?” Sans calls out to you.
You groan. Why do I keep looking like such an idiot in front of him?
“can i come out? i think we need to talk.”
Please no. “Ah, I’d really rather-eek!” How the fuck did he get out here and in front of me without opening the door or making a goddamned noise?
“look pal, I think we might have got off on the wrong foot. i may have thought you had a bone to pick with paps, and i-”
“Please stop.” Your words, barely above a whisper, cut him off. “I really… I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry my coming over to welcome you to the neighbourhood was a bad idea. I’m sorry picking up that trash was wrong. I’m sorry I let your brother bump his head, and get flour all over his clothes, and come into a-a stranger's house. I’m sorry. Just please…” You stand slowly, reaching behind you to tug the door open without lifting your eyes from his bunny slippers. “Please don’t do that to me again. I’ve got your message, loud and clear. I won’t be bothering you again. I-I’ll start looking for a new place by the end of the month. I’m sorry.”
You close the door behind you with a quiet snick.
“hey, no. buddy - i think there’s been a misunderstanding. i didn’t mean…” You tense as you see his shadow creeping closer to the back door through the frosted glass, the floorboards creaking as he steps closer. “paps seems to really like you. he wanted me to give you his number before i left. just… don’t take it out on him, cause his brother can be a real bonehead.”
You take a step back, as a slip of paper is pushed under your door.
“i’m sorry kid. I… guess you probably don’t want to hear that from me right now. i’ll try an’ explain another time, when thing’s had a chance to marrow. i’ll be seein’ ya.”
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The Lovebird and the Pun-King