When Lightning Strikes

Chapter Three

 You fussed with the pictures on the bar again, dusting the glass off yet again, glancing at the clock nervously every few seconds. Paps was vacuuming the ceiling at Sans request while he made sure dinner was perfect, putting the last couple of finishing touches on it.

Truth be told... the guests were supposed to be at the apartment about an hour ago, at this point it just seemed like they weren't going to show up.

Arrogant Assholes, your soul clenched painfully. You took a deep breath, calming the emptiness inside of you.

They have no right, it hissed, anger creeping around your stomach, your guts the back of your mind. You were inclined to agree with the thought, but you liked to think the best of everyone until proved otherwise. Anxiety built up in the back of your throat, clogging up your words that you wanted to say, but what could you say in this moment? You knew that Sans was excited to have guests over for dinner, and yet, no one even showed up. No one even called. What kind of assholes...

You jerked in surprise as Papyrus hopped off of the ceiling, landing right next to you, catching the vacuum carefully with his magic. He looked at you, his brows pinched in concern. You leaned against him, leaching off the comfort he offered as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"Bastards." Sans suddenly hissed, shoulders shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"They're All Bastards!" he raised his voice, his bones rattling, "Who The Hell Promises To Show Up, And Not Even Call?! Fucking! Assholes!"

You were inclined to agree with him.

"more food f'r us then." Papyrus said, squeezing your shoulders.

"Happy Thanksgiving." Sans muttered darkly, glaring at the oven.

Your chest ached with something you haven't felt in a very long time. You weren't sure what to think of it. Then, like a birthday candle being blown out, the ache left.