You Can Never Go Home

ᴜɴᴅʏɴᴇ

Sans didn't say anything as you continued to lean against him, his bony shoulders surprisingly comfortable. His usual lazy grin was absent, replaced by a look of concentrated indifference. He seemed determined to ignore your presence entirely, his eyes half-lidded in a way that suggested he was trying to focus on anything but you.

Pots and pans clanging were the only things to interrupt the silence as the tantalizing smell of spaghetti wafted into the living room. Feeling your stomach rumble and your mouth salivating, you decided it was time to get up. You carefully shifted, making sure Frisk was now lying on Sans. It was then he finally looked at you, the lingering signs of embarrassment washing from his cheekbones.

"where ya going?" he asked. You smiled warmly, heading for the kitchen, as the excitement of tasting Papyrus' cooking gave you a little spring in your step.

"Just going to see if Papyrus needs any help," you replied easily. The skeleton grinned, shaking his head knowingly.

"we both know he's just going to tell you to rest." There was a playful challenge in his voice, one that always brought a smile to your face and a warmth to your cheeks. You couldn't help but smirk, walking backward towards the kitchen, ready to prove him wrong.

"I don't know. I can be pretty stubborn," you retorted, sending him a wink. He snorted, the sound jolting Frisk, who murmured something in their sleep before settling back down.

"if you say so, bud." His white eyelights flickered, the corners of his smile twitching as if holding back a laugh. Perhaps childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him before turning on your heel. As you entered the kitchen, the rich, savory smell of spaghetti enveloped you, making your mouth water even more. Papyrus was bustling around the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm. His tall, lanky frame moved with surprising grace as he tended to various pots and pans; his signature red scarf fluttered with every movement.

"AH, FRIEND!" Papyrus exclaimed, his face lighting up with delight as he saw you. "YOU'RE JUST IN TIME TO WITNESS THE GREAT PAPYRUS'S CULINARY MASTERPIECE!" You chuckled, stepping closer to peer into a pot filled with bubbling tomato sauce.

"It smells amazing, Papyrus. Need any help?" Papyrus waved his hand dismissively, his smile never faltering.

"NONSENSE! YOU SHOULD BE RESTING." Rolling your eyes, you stepped towards him, trying to melt his resolve with your best pouting face.

"Paps, I want to help," you insisted, grabbing an apron from a nearby hook and tying it around your waist. In your determination, you failed to notice the light dusting of orange that appeared on his cheekbones as he watched you. "Besides, cooking together sounds like fun." Papyrus paused, his expression softening as he considered your words. Finally, he nodded, his grin widening

"VERY WELL! YOU MAY ASSIST ME IN PREPARING THE GARLIC BREAD. BUT BE WARNED, I HAVE HIGH STANDARDS!" With a laugh, you set to work, grabbing the loaf of bread sitting on the counter. With that, you both started cooking. Papyrus mostly focused on the noodles, sometimes leaning over to give you some help.

"YOU KNOW," Papyrus' voice broke through your thoughts, his tone cheeky. "YOU CALLED ME PAPS." Blinking, you turned to face him, your mind racing as you tried to remember.

"I did?" you asked, opening your mouth to object when you realized that you did, in fact, call him 'Paps.' Cheeks warming, you awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of your neck. "Oh yeah... I guess I did." You coughed, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his gaze. "Do you want me not to?" you wondered aloud. In less than a second, you were lifted off your feet and twirled in a circle, papyrus' laughter echoing around the kitchen.

"OF COURSE NOT! I CAN'T BELIEVE MY FRIEND HAS FINALLY CALLED ME BY A NICKNAME! I'M SO HAPPY!" He exclaimed, stopping to pull you into a tight hug. You stiffened at first, eyes wide as you fought the instinct to push him away. But slowly, you allowed yourself to relax, slumping in his arms.