Heading back to his room, Papyrus sat on the corner of his race car bed and started to undress himself. Folding his clementine coloured pajamas, he stood up and placed the now-neatly folded clothes where he sat. Walking over to his closet, he opened the doors.
He pushed what little clothes he had to the left, carefully taking out his spectacular battle body. Beaming at it, he put it on, no wrinkles allowed.
He still remembered when he and Sans had made it. Papyrus smiled fondly at the memory.
Heading to their bathroom, Papyrus decided to check on Sans again. The door creaked slightly when he opened it, but it did not disturb Sans's sleep in the slightest. Sans continued snoring and mumbling incoherent nonsense.
Closing the door again, Papyrus stepped into the bathroom.
"Doo doo doo doooo dooo doo doo doo..." Papyrus hummed a little tune while brushing his teeth.
After doing basic hygiene, he stretched for a bit, then looked and posed in front of the bathroom mirror.
He was in a very cheerful mood today. Papyrus had a feeling that today was going to go perfectly.
With a huge smile on his face, even bigger than the usual one, he bounded downstairs to the kitchen to create his masterpeice- spaghetti.
Now, after Undyne's cooking lessons, Sans always gave him a couple of tips on how to cook spaghetti 'properly', as he said. Not wanting to ingnore the other's advice and be a bad friend or brother, he decided to combine the two recipies together.
First, he washed some tomatoes, then cleanly diced them into itty-bitty cubes on the cutting board with a knife. After that, he did the same, finely chopping multiple herbs and tossing all of the ingredients together.
Then, he curled his boney hand into a fist, raised it above his hand, and brought it smashing down onto the poor vegetables. It created a nice warm pulp, ready to be ladled onto the spaghetti.
The spaghetti.
He forgot to make the spaghetti.
'OH NO NO NO! THIS WON'T DO! THIS WON'T DO AT ALL!'
Papyrus ran across their small kitchen, grabbed two handfuls of the finest spaghetti he could find, threw them into the pot that was (somehow) always on the stove, then filled it with hot water. Cranking up the heat, he used his soft glove to wipe of some of the pale orange ecto-sweat on his bone-brow. Then, he sprinkled a little salt in the boiling water.
Following Undyne's recipie, he turned up the stove's heat even further. Small blue flames flickered on the stove's surface. Good.
"NYEH HEH HEH! SANS WILL SURELY LIKE THIS WONDERFUL SPAGHETTI!"
Papyrus stirred the still-raw pasta slowly with a big wooden spoon. The meal was really coming together.
With a few crashes and mini fires, the spaghetti was finally completed.
Finally, Sans stirred from his heavenly slumber from all the ungodly sounds.
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GAHHHHHHHH I'M SO SO SOOOOOOO SORRY FOR DA WAIT!!!!!
YOU ARE READING
Tired
FanfictionThis was my first story. Sans, after a round of particularly draining RESETS, wants to get to the root of the problem. And so, he asks. He gets an answer, but things start to jumble and blend into an incomprehensible mixture of worlds and theories...
