
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6410236.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Fandom:
      Undertale_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Sans/Papyrus
  Character:
      Papyrus_(Undertale), Sans_(Undertale), W._D._Gaster, Alphys_(Undertale),
      Undyne_(Undertale), Asgore_Dreemurr_(mentioned)
  Additional Tags:
      Underfell_AU, UF_Papyrus, UF_Sans, Child_Abuse, Parent/Child_Incest,
      Violence, Childhood_Trauma, PSTD, OCD_Behavior, Unhealthy_Coping
      Mechanisms
  Series:
      Part 2 of Underfell:_A.D._Edition
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-30 Completed: 2016-04-10 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 18654
****** Do Unto Others ******
by AngeliaDark
Summary
     Companion piece to Full Circle, in Papyrus's side of the story.
     'In this world, it's kill or be killed'. Papyrus learned that early
     in life, and applied it to everything he ever did after the lesson
     was learned. It was his basis for living, his tool of control. But
     pieces of his old life refuse to die, no matter how much he drowns
     them in hate.
Notes
     *looks at the tags* Why do I do this to my fave?
     And like Full Circle, the material is heavily inspired by the Tool
     song 'Prison Sex'. Good song, better album.
***** What Has Been Done To You *****
Papyrus had never known the meaning of the phrases 'blinding pain', 'blinding
anger' and 'blind numbness' before all three hit him all at once, and so hard
he thought he would never be able to see straight again.
It took everything he had to not scream as piercing static screeched in his
skull, honing in on the throbbing crack over his right eye socket and only
making it worse.
...no.
What made it worse...was that HE did this.
His big brother, the one good thing in this hateful, wretched world...who
always promised he would never become like the other Monsters who would hurt
them, no matter what...yelled at him, pushed him, threw him against the wall,
and then...
...and then...
Numbness.
That was what Papyrus felt now. He felt numb to it all. He was too hurt, too
angry, too full of HATE to feel anymore.
'Brother promised me...'he thought bitterly to himself as he glowered at his
brother, half-blinded by red marrow pooling in his eye socket. '...he promised
me he wouldn't be bad...he promised me we would be the good ones...me and him,
together...he lied...he LIED...HE LIED. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM.'
"I HATE YOU."
He paid the traitorous brother no heed as he grabbed the puzzle cube—the last
gift Sans gave him—and stood, walking to his bedroom with the toy clutched
tightly in his hand. The numbness was merciful in the way Sans was not as he
managed to get to his room and shut his door and lock it before passing out on
the floor.
===============================================================================
PAIN
PAIN
PAIN
PAIN
NOTHING
BUT
PAIN
Papyrus forced his hand away from his cracked skull, biting down harder into
his pillow to keep the screams of agony at bay. Like any cut or bruise, once
the initial sting wore off, the REAL pain set in, a never-ending throb that
even his sleep offered no respite from.
Unbearable times like this made him want to cry out for Sans, to beg for relief
from the pain, but THAT only made him hold onto his convictions even tighter.
'HE did this to me!' he thought, tremors of anger joining the pain shakes of
his small frame. 'I don't want him anywhere NEAR me!'
He had ignored the food and medical supplies left at his doorstep every day. He
fought through the pain and went about his day like Sans wasn't even there,
keeping his distance and refusing to acknowledge the older Skeleton's words.
'He doesn't really care. If he did care, he wouldn't have done it! HE DID THIS
TO ME.' He replayed that mantra in his mind to drone out anything Sans said to
him, to numb the other's presence in the room. He wouldn't touch what Sans
tried to give him. To acknowledge it would mean forgiveness and that was NOT
something this hot, heavy weight in his soul would allow.
Papyrus was numb to Sans's attempts at reconciliation, but he was not stupid.
Every day in that broken mirror in his room he would see the crack over his
right eye socket, notice the discoloration of his skull around the crack,
feeling his own HP drop if he did anything more strenuous than his daily
business. He didn't know how to fix broken bones, and even if he did, he didn't
have the magic reserves to do it. At some point, he knew that he would need
help.
'But NOT from HIM.'
He was tired of Sans sleeping against his door, so he took to leaving it open
most of the time, but his refusal to acknowledge Sans never waned. At least
Sans seemed to be taking the hint, but his constant presence only served as a
slow stoking to the anger that bled from his soul and into his bones, making
his injuries hurt more and giving Papyrus even more reason to despise being in
this house, always a stone's throw from the older Skeleton.
There were days he didn't even feel well enough to come out of his room; today
was one of those days. His bones were warm—too warm. His skull crack had a
constant dull throb with a dark gray complexion around the cracked area, and
the entire right side of his skull would seize with pain if he touched it. To
distract from the pain, Papyrus turned the puzzle cube in his hands, as he had
been doing for the past month since the incident occurred.
Puzzles fascinated him. They always had. He liked taking chaos and putting it
into neat, tidy order, be it with words, numbers, or shapes. Putting things
into order made him feel good inside, put his mind at ease, and provided a
distraction against this world around him.
On days when he was waiting for a new puzzle book or toy after finishing all
his others, he made up a game where anything he found would be a puzzle. In
doing so, his trial-and-error in cooking made him improve by leaps and bounds.
The house was pin-tidy and the shelves held every book neatly without anything
being crammed into place.
When even that was done and no longer amused him, he turned to people-watching
for puzzles, and found his niche. People were definitely the best kind of
puzzle. Everyone was so different, but trying to fit into their little places
down in the Underground while fighting to survive.
Not everyone in the labs were downright cruel. Some of the Monsters there would
make an effort to be less harsh with him, would sneak him small snacks when
Sans was too busy to remember, and would loudly announce when his father was
going to be around to give him a chance to look busy. In a world where it was
kill or be killed, such small kindnesses stood out, and Papyrus would often
puzzle over why EVERYONE didn't make such an effort to make things better.
NOW...he knew. Being a kind, helpful little brother all his short life didn't
stop his skull from getting cracked. Being kind and helpful didn't stop anyone
from getting killed down here. Only playing this cruel game kept them alive.
And that was the puzzle of why everyone was so cruel being solved. Of why
Monsters who had clear eyes suddenly having them turned red. It was all so
simple...so stupidly simple...
A particularly sharp throb from his eye socket made him fumble the puzzle cube
and clench his hands into it tighter, taking deep breaths until the throbbing
would ebb away. The pain spikes were getting longer and more intense, and he
wasn't foolish enough to think that it would just go away. It was getting
worse, and he was going to need help soon...
The sound of an unfamiliar voice in his home snapped him out of his pain, and
he welcomed the distraction. Stuffing the puzzle cube into his sweater pocket,
he crept out of his bedroom and peered over the landing, seeing his father down
below with Sans.
What was he doing here? He must have come after Sans not going to work for so
long, checking in on them. He shifted over to the top of the stairs, pausing
when Sans looked up and saw him. Their father turned to follow Sans's gaze, and
Papyrus saw his red eyelights shrink when he saw him...or rather, his skull
crack.
"...oh my," his father said, walking to the bottom of the stairs, holding up a
hand toward Papyrus. "Papyrus, come here and let me look at that."
Papyrus gripped the banister tightly as he made his descent, his movements weak
and shaky from how much HP the skull wound was draining from him, and finally
came to a stop when he was eye-level with his father.
Gaster raised his hand and gently touched the crack, sending a sharp jolt of
pain through Papyrus's skull. Papyrus barely concealed a flinch, his hand
clenching around the banister as he fought to not react to the pain. Gaster's
phalanges felt cool to the touch on his heated infected skull, reminding
Papyrus of just how bad it must have gotten. He saw his father frown and look
over the wounded area before reaching out and scooping him up effortlessly.
"Let's go to my lab and we'll get that looked at," Gaster said, resting his
hand on Papyrus's back. Papyrus let out a shaky sigh, feeling his strength
leave him entirely. His father, scary as he was, would take care of him now,
would take the pain away...
He tensed up when he heard Sans protest, but his father simply rebuked him,
tucking Papyrus's face into his shoulder as he walked out of the house and off
to the labs.
Papyrus faded in and out of consciousness in between spikes of pain in his
skull, managing to retain his consciousness after a long time, when the pain
was settled down to a dull throb, the hot feeling from the crack having ebbed
back a little. He let out a sigh of relief, staring up at the ceiling as he
lifted a hand and touched around his eye socket. The pain wasn't nearly as bad,
but Papyrus could still feel the thick crack that ran from his cheekbone up to
the crown of his skull.
He was going to have this forever, if his father couldn't fix it. Maybe he HAD
waited too long to get it treated. He looked over to the side, seeing his
father arranging something on a shelf, and felt a sudden shyness. He'd never
spent this much time with his father before, and never alone...how was it going
to work, living with him? He was still very good at keeping things neat and
clean...if that could work out, then—
"Oh, you're awake."
Gaster was looking at him, eyelights glowing softly in the dim lab as he
finished arranging things on the shelf. The elder Skeleton walked over, taking
Papyrus's skull in his hands and turning it to look at the crack. "I managed to
stave off the infection, but it's too late to do anything about that crack," he
said. "And what a pity. You had such a beautiful skull."
Papyrus held back a sniffle; he knew he would be scarred for life. At least his
father managed to help a little. He turned his attention over to ask about what
he was going to be doing now, but his voice caught in his throat when his
father's fingers brushed over his face gently, trailing down to his neck
vertebrae, sending a shiver down his spine. Although the touch was gentle, it
made him feel...weird. In a bad way.
"...Dad...?"
Gaster smiled, his eyelights glowing brighter. "It's a shame that Sans was the
one to do this to you, Papyrus..." he murmured, his hands shifting down to hold
Papyrus's rib cage, fingers pressing into the ribs through the shirt, making
Papyrus squirm. "I didn't think he had it in him to do this, after all that
talk about protecting you."
Papyrus felt his father's hands trail lower down to his pelvis, that harsh,
buzzing alarm of 'this isn't right' ringing in his skull. He made a move to
scoot back, but one of Gaster's hands firmly planted onto his chest, keeping
him down.
"He kept my grand prize away from me for so long," Gaster continued, his free
hand undoing Papyrus's shorts. "I wanted to be the one to see your spirit
broken." He jerked Papyrus's shorts down and dropped them onto the floor. "I
wanted to WATCH the change in your soul, WATCH your innocence be spoiled!"
Papyrus thrashed under Gaster's hold, starting to panic. What was happening?
Why was his father acting this way!? He struggled harder, then gasped when he
felt a heavy weight on his soul, dropping back hard on the examination table,
seeing a soft blue glow through his shirt where his soul was, unable to move
much anymore.
Gaster's eyelights glowed brighter, and dark red—almost black—ectoplasmic
tendrils slithering from under his lab coat and curling around Papyrus's legs,
pinning them apart. "Sans may have taken the pleasure of spoiling your
innocence, but judging from your reaction here, he hasn't spoiled THIS for me."
He gently stroked Papyrus's face. "And you'll be living with me now, so you'll
have to learn to like it since Sans isn't here to take it for you anymore."
Papyrus's soul-bound body twitched on the table, his eyelights focused on the
ceiling above him as he tried to scream but couldn't, his body going rigid when
he felt sharp pain in his pelvis before a static-like numbness spread over his
mind and body.
The ceiling spread out in his vision like a blank white void, the lines in the
ceiling reminding him of the puzzle cube in his pocket. He imagined colors in
the squares, shuffling them around until the colors matched up, and absently
wondered why the rest of his life wasn't so easy to assemble into place.
In this world, it's kill or be killed.
Sans promised to protect him, but instead he threw him against the wall and
almost shattered his skull. He could have killed him.
In this world, it's kill or be killed.
Gaster promised to help him, but he was just hurting him more, making that hot
fire melt his soul like lava, filling his bones with hate and filth.
In this world, it's kill or be killed.
Everyone was going to keep hurting him. Nobody was good in this world. They
were just going to keep hurting him, keep using him, try to kill him.
In this world, it's kill or be killed.
.
.
.
…...he was just going to have to kill them FIRST.
Papyrus's soul flared violently, a fire sparking to life in his right eye
socket as he wrenched himself free of the binding blue magic, calling his magic
forth to form a bone in his hand and ram it into Gaster's chest. He didn't even
give the older Skeleton time to react before jerking it out and jamming it back
in.
"I HATE YOU!" he screamed, stabbing into Gaster's rib cage over and over again,
shattering ribs with several hits. "I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU
I HATE YOU DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIEDIE DIE DIE!"
The larger body under him began to dissolve but he didn't stop stabbing, not
until he was hitting the floor instead of bones. When it finally stuck that
there was nothing but dust within the clothes, he dropped the splintered bone
in his hand, letting it dissolve on the floor, and screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
The incessant screaming and odd fluctuations in magic drew a Guard and some
scientists to the room, the Guard breaking down the door and staring at the
sight of a half-naked Skeleton child standing over dust-covered lab clothing
that anyone could identify as Dr. Gaster's, screaming his head off with twin
trails of red-black tears streaming down his cheekbones.
One of the scientists, Gaster's former assistant before Sans was brought in,
knew about the now-deceased Skeleton's incestuous activities with the older of
the two brothers, and had only feared the worst when she saw Gaster walk in
with Papyrus before locking himself in his lab. Now she knew her fears were
justified, and could only feel pity for the screaming child and righteous
satisfaction of the abusive molester's death.
She nudged her way past Alphys and slipped off her lab coat, gently putting it
around Papyrus's shoulders, not even surprised when the boy jerked away and
dove under the examination table, his eyelights blazing in the dark shadowed
spot. She glowered down at the pile of dust-covered clothes before turning to
the Guard. "Get someone in here to clean up the mess," she said. "And tell King
Asgore that we need a new Head Royal Scientist."
"We've already got one," Alphys put in, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at
this turn of luck for her. "No need to notify next-of-kin, considering he—"
"Alphys, until the paperwork clears, shut up," the scientist snapped. Although
Alphys WAS next in line, her colleague was still a senior scientist and a more
powerful Monster, so Alphys narrowed her eyes and said nothing. The scientist
glowered at the others staring. "The rest of you, back off! He doesn't need an
audience!"
The other scientists muttered and slunk off elsewhere, leaving the scientist
alone with Papyrus, who had yet to stop glaring from under the table. She
sighed, sitting back in a chair to keep watch until something could be figured
out.
Under the table, Papyrus pressed as far back as he could against the wall, his
hand shaking as he formed another bone construct into it. He wasn't going to
trust this woman, no matter how nice she might have been in the past. He made
that mistake before. Never again. Not. Ever. Again.
===============================================================================
His body was shaking two hours later from the effort it took to stay conscious.
Even though the scientist had fallen asleep, he wasn't going to do the same. He
wasn't stupid. He had dissolved the bone construct to reserve his energy, and
was instead playing with his puzzle cube, just to keep his mind focused on
staying awake.
Through his puzzle play, he couldn't help but think what was going to happen to
him now. He wouldn't go back to Sans; he REFUSED. And his father was dead now,
so that was out. There were no orphanages in the Underground as far as he knew,
and if there were, he was positive no one was kind enough to actually take care
of children instead of torture or kill them. It left his options very limited
for his ten-year-old self.
He clicked the cube into place, staring at the perfectly-matched colored sides
for several moments before turning it in his hands and clicking the pieces
randomly to start over again. Before he was even three clicks in, the door
opened and the heavy footfalls he had come to know as a Guardsman's stepped
into the room.
"That's Dr. Gaster, alright," the loud rumbling voice said as he stepped over
near the table, barely two feet from Papyrus. "And who's the one that did it?"
"His own son, if you can believe it," Alphys's voice said from the door.
"Sans?"
"Guess again."
Several seconds of silence.
"Right. So where is the brat?"
"Hiding under that examination table."
Papyrus tucked himself back further, his bones rattling softly with a growl
that rumbled from down in his chest. The commotion must have roused the other
scientist because he heard her voice next.
"Guardsman, he's just a child!" she said, a hint of pleading in her voice. "And
his actions weren't at all unjustified, considering what that BEAST did to
him—"
"I'm not here to arrest the brat," the Guardsman snapped, pushing her away.
"I've known Dr. Gaster for years, and he's not an easy Monster to take down.
The old bastard could've probably become a Guardsman himself if he had the mind
to. But if some little brat was able to do this, you can bet your ass the
Captain would want THAT kind of potential trained up. I'm here to take him to
the Capitol for training."
There were several more moments of stunned silence; Guard training was a deadly
rigorous volunteer service with very little scouting done, but where there WAS
scouting, it was rare and earned.
The silence was broken by the sound of shifting coming from under the table,
the Guard and two scientists turning to see Papyrus crawl out from under his
hiding place. Barely coming up to the Guard's abdomen and swallowed by the
scientist's coat, he hardly looked the part of someone who had just slain a
powerful Skeleton Monster, but the menacing crack in his skull paired with the
blazing eyelights in his tired eye sockets made up for his petite stature.
"...you're taking me away from here?" Papyrus asked, though the dead tone made
it sound more like a statement. "...I don't have to stay here?"
"No," the Guardsman replied. "You're going to the Capitol. If you're able to
display even half of what was explained to me concerning Dr. Gaster's death,
then you may live to graduate from training, and who knows? Maybe you'll be a
Ranked Guardsman. Or maybe you'll die in the first week and spare everyone the
tax expenses."
Papyrus's hand clenched around the puzzle cube before trailing his eyelights up
to the Guard's, keeping firm eye contact the likes of which were almost never
seen on a child, even the broken ones. "...I'm not going to die," Papyrus
stated back.
The Guardsman gave a curt nod. "Then grab whatever you can carry, runt," he
said impatiently. "We haven't got all day." He turned to leave, Alphys jumping
out of his way.
Papyrus followed, pausing briefly to bend down and pick up the dusty red scarf
his father always wore and draped it around his shoulders like a morbid trophy,
sending the scientist a cold look of 'I'm grateful but don't expect a thank-
you' before trailing after the Guardsman.
Alphys and the other scientist watched Papyrus leave before sharing a quick
look, both having experienced the cold chill crawling over their backs at just
how much that small child resembled his cruel, deadly father, and for a split
second, could see a vision of what kind of Monster he could become.
***** What Had Been Done to Me *****
It was a jarring experience, even for Papyrus's expectations, in seeing the
Capitol for the first time. Unlike the Hotlands, this place was heavily
populated nearly to the point of overcrowding, making Papyrus feel more than a
little claustrophobic. Still, he kept his eyes forward and hand clenched around
the puzzle cube in his pocket, following the Guardsman in charge of his
reassignment dutifully.
The walk was not very far; he was only taking Papyrus as far as the large
check-in station for Guards, since such a largely-populated area required a
good handful of Guards to look over. At the check-in station, he led Papyrus
back into the building, showing him to a Rabbit Monster.
"I've got one for training," he stated, stepping aside to show Papyrus's small
form. The Rabbit Monster looked down—really, looked DOWN, the boy was so
small—and frowned.
"...A Skeleton Monster?" he said dubiously. "...they're rare, aren't they? And
I'm willing to bet he's one of Dr. Gaster's kin. I'd hate to know what HE would
have to say about that."
"Nothing, considering the bastard's dead," the Guardsman retorted. "I scouted
him, Pete, he killed the Doc. I THINK he's good to go."
The Rabbit Monster's eyes widened, glancing back down at Papyrus, seeing the
small Skeleton glower back at him. "...scouted, you say?" he asked. "...alright
then. I'm pretty sure Rex will appreciate having someone with some actual EXP
rather than some brat who just wants perks." He rummaged around for paperwork.
"...you even know how to read, kid?"
"I helped with Royal Scientist-level lab equations," Papyrus replied. "Don't
insult me." He grabbed the paperwork and a pen off the desk, sitting down on
the floor to fill it out.
"...kid might actually make it through orientation," Pete muttered. "But he'll
need a real attitude adjustment to avoid getting his skull knocked off his
shoulders."
"Easier to adjust when they're young," the Guard replied. "I'm getting back to
the Hotlands. You make sure he gets to training." That said, he turned and
headed off.
Pete sighed, putting in a call that he was escorting someone to training, then
looked back over the desk and tensed when he saw Papyrus peering over the edge,
holding up his paperwork.
"I'm done," Papyrus said, putting it down before walking over to a chair and
sitting down, taking out his puzzle cube and fiddling with it. Pete sighed and
looked down at the paperwork, skimming over a few key details.
Name, Papyrus...Age, 10...Species, Skeleton...Former Occupation, supervised
charge of a Royal Scientist physicist... Pete inwardly snorted; the kid had
guts, he'd give him that. He filled in a few notes of his own to the paperwork,
stamped the last one, then put it onto the table.
"This one you give directly to the Captain yourself," he said, getting
Papyrus's attention. Papyrus gave the barest hint of a curt nod before reaching
out and grabbing it, tucking it into his pocket before playing with his puzzle
cube again. Pete's ear twitched slightly, his jaw tight for a few moments
before sighing. "Keep eye contact with him," he said lowly, seeing Papyrus's
hands pause. "Breaking eye contact is a sign of submission. Don't submit."
He watched as Papyrus's phalanges flexed into the cube for a moment before
continuing with their play in clicking the pieces into place. Pete shook his
head, filing off the paperwork, and purposely putting the kid's in the front
for the Captain to look through first.
===============================================================================
The training area was a loud, fast-paced nightmare of senior Guards screaming
orders and abuse at trainees, clashing fights in combat training, and the
occasional brawl between two Monsters for some reason or the other.
Papyrus surveyed everything, immediately sorting out the Monsters into slots in
his mind. It was easy just by looking which Monsters were in charge; they were
better trained in combat, had their heads higher and backs straighter, and
their actions were more fluid and controlled.
The ones that had been here for awhile didn't quite have the same rod-spine
pride as the trainers, but they definitely had more skill and were being
shouted at much less than the newcomers.
Immediately, Papyrus honed in on those like him; the brand-new batch of
trainees. And immediately, he despised them. Cruel snarling smirks, haughty
expressions, and gleams in their red eyes that surveyed smaller Monsters like
meals to chew up and spit out...these were the worst types of Monsters that
Papyrus had experience with.
These were the types of Monster his father was.
Out of the pickings was one Monster Papyrus honed in on, merely for the fact
that they were almost as small as he was, and didn't look much older. He
couldn't tell if they were a girl or a boy like him, not that it mattered. He'd
never seen a Water Monster before, but he was sure from their fins that they
were. Their red hair-like caudal filaments were hacked short and a grimy cloth
bandage covered their left eye, and Papyrus took an educated guess that it was
missing.
Despite being small and almost frail-looking, they had a razor-sharp spark in
their remaining eye and a stony expression on their face; if Papyrus didn't
intimately know what his own face looked like, he would swear that it was like
looking into a mirror.
Introductions and orientation was less to be desired; they were screamed at,
degraded, and then told to run. Just RUN.
So run they did.
Papyrus had managed to catch a nap waiting for transport to take him to this
place, but it was still an agonizing experience, considering the fact that he
was still recovering from an infection and hadn't properly rested
after...everything else. But he ran. He ran with harder conviction than he had
when he swore off acknowledging Sans. He ran with harder conviction than it
took to kill his own father. He kept his legs moving, dodging the attempts
another trainee made at tripping him up, and getting back up from the times he
couldn't dodge.
By the time the whistle was blown and he felt close to letting his soul
extinguish and die, there were nine out of twenty-six trainees left standing,
including himself and the Water Monster, who looked like she would stick her
head in a toilet if she had to in order to recuperate from the ordeal.
"Only nine," a loud, graveling voice spoke, and everyone turned in tandem to
see a huge Reptile Monster stalking up, wearing the style of armor reserved
only for the Captain of the Royal Guard. The trainers all stood at attention,
and Papyrus had the mind to do the same, fighting—yet failing—to make his legs
stop shaking. The Captain strolled around the running area, surveying who was
standing and who had collapsed; another Monster who HAD been standing fell to
her knees whilst he was doing so.
There was only a sharp 'whoosh' and a wet slicing sound before the Monster's
head was separated from her body, the Captain holding a large battle axe in his
hand.
"Weakness will NOT be tolerated here!" he said loud enough for everyone to
hear. "If you cannot stand after THIS, you cannot stand in true battle! You
cannot stand on the field! AND YOU WILL NOT STAND IN MY PRESENCE." He turned to
the remaining Monsters, and seemed to pay attention to the two smallest ones
with genuine intrigue that the children were still standing when others were
not.
"Those who are standing, find a Monster who fell and kill them."
There were murmurs of shock from the remaining Monsters, who seemed to be in
some state of shock that they had to do so, or that this is what would have
happened had they NOT driven themselves to still go. The pause of surprise was
broken when the young Water Monster let out a piercing shriek and bolted out of
the standing crowd and up to a fallen Monster, forming a small spear made of
magic into their hand and stabbing the Monster right through the soul, dusting
him immediately.
Not wanting to be outdone by a mere kid, the others ran to the fallen, some of
which were still conscious and tried to get away to no avail.
Papyrus could feel his soul flickering in his rib cage, begging for rest and
recuperation, but his mind swiftly silenced the plea. He could sense the
Captain's critical eyes in the back of his skull, and knew what this lesson was
truly about.
'In this world, it's kill or be killed.'
Forcing his magic forth despite the protest of his own stretched limits, he
focused all of his power on the last unslain Monster on the ground and summoned
a bone to just out from the ground and right through his head just as the Water
Monster was running up to take him as their third kill. The Monster dusted
before they could stab him through, and they looked up at Papyrus, glowering.
Papyrus didn't deign to return the glower, instead swaying where he stood as he
fought like mad to retain consciousness, keeping his guard up. If he had to,
he'd protect himself from their attack too.
'In this world, it's kill or be killed.'
===============================================================================
Training proved to be just as trying as the orientation.
It wasn't just endless physical training and being shouted at; it was also
classroom work on combat strategy, government law, peacekeeping, and history
that mostly referred to the big war between humans and Monsters.
But there WAS physical training.
And it WAS hell.
Every day, Papyrus was pushed to his limits until he was ready to collapse, and
on some days he did. But since he passed orientation day, collapses were
forgiven if you could get back into training the next day. And go back he did.
Even on days when he had cracked bones and every bit of spare magic went to
healing them like his healing training was taught; it was trying, considering
that a Skeleton's entire being WAS bones and therefore required a different
form of magic to heal, but he made due quickly, thanks to his lessons in magic
training.
Magic training was worse than physical training. Some Monsters were unable to
form solid weapons with their magic, but they could still utilize them in
different ways, and utilization was put to the grinder three times a week. It
quickly became obvious that Papyrus was able to do more with his magic than
simply create bones; he became aware that he had an unusually precise level of
control over his magic, down to minute attacks and details. He could stop his
magic mid-attack, resume on a dime, and dissolve everything on command.
He wasn't entirely unique in this concept; over his time here, he had gained a
rival in the Water Monster from his first day. They were strong, almost
fathomless in energy and magic, and the spear they had created became as much
of a staple of their magic as Papyrus's bones.
Papyrus found that even though he had absolutely no desire to form any kind of
bond in this kill-or-be-killed world, having a rival drove him further than he
would have done on his own. Apparently it was a mutual sentiment, because the
director in training bunked them together.
Roommates seemed like a bad idea, but it was a training in self-control and
cooperation. Fighting between roommates was forbidden, and if was decreed that
if you killed your roommate for ANY reason other than self-defense, you'd die
with them. It was a silent truce he and the Water Monster had; in eight months,
they hadn't even so much as given out their names to each other. But as long as
they kept to themselves in their bunk house, they could beat the shit out of
each other in training later.
Papyrus didn't mind this arrangement in the last; his roommate was just another
puzzle, albeit with a few missing pieces. The Water Monster was as secretive as
he was, as silent as he was, but it was still an all-too-familiar aura about
them. They drove to be strong, they kept an almost physical barrier of space
between themself and others, and the air of suspicion never waned even around
him.
A scar over their eye. A closed-off personality to everyone. A dislike of
physical contact. He could only guess they had been through something like he
had, and that alone made him at very least respect that boundary. He was not
there to antagonize; he was there for HIMSELF. He'd graduate from training,
graduate from apprenticeship job-shadowing, and be a true Royal Guardsman, all
for him, and nobody else.
===============================================================================
It was almost a year into his training here, when a scratch in his mental
routine gave him pause and let him know that something was wrong.
Every evening after dinner was dismissal for an hour of 'personal upkeep'
before lights out and/or night rounds; if you were falling behind in government
law class, needed extra physical or magic training, or simply wished to devote
your time to meditation or, on the rare occasion, writing home to family, then
that was the time to do it.
And every evening, Papyrus used personal upkeep to practice honing his magic
control to perfection for forty-five minutes and use the remaining fifteen
before lights out to play with his puzzle cube as a way of winding down for the
evening. On this rare night, neither him or his roommate had night rounds, and
they always came in thirty minutes before lights out to do one-fingered body
planks for that entire time before bed.
It was twenty minutes before lights out, and they were not here.
They were not hurt, and Papyrus saw them in the dining hall; that revelation
kept Papyrus from concentrating on his bones, the wheels clanking in his mind
as he internally pondered over where they were.
Another aspect of his magic that was somewhat useless in the short-run, was
that if he knew the aura of a Monster's soul well, he was able to feel out for
that very soul to a respectable degree of distance. It was a useless talent
here, considering there was no need to track anyone down, and he only spent
long lengths of time with his roommate, but in THIS instance, that aspect of
his magic was giving him an instinctive push to use it.
He trekked out of his room and back to the dining hall, going through second-
hand steps that he had witnessed in his past year. His roommate always went to
the well shed for water after dinner, and that was west of the dorm rooms. He
followed that path, and felt a faint thrum of familiar magic in the air,
signaling that he got them on his track.
As he walked toward the well shed, there was an odd thrum to this magic;
something desperate, panicked, and almost...fearful. Three things he could
never have thought to associate the Water Monster with. The thrumming made an
echo in his own soul, something familiar...
...very uncomfortably, scarily familiar.
He broke into a run, his soul pounding in his rib cage as he made it to the
well house and yanked the door open—
The pale blue form of his roommate was sprawled out on the floor of the well
house, arms pinned down by two older Monsters, a third holding a stuffed cloth
into their mouth while a fourth had their legs pinned to their chest, his body
rocking hard against their smaller form—
Papyrus saw nothing but red.
He heard nothing but beastlike screaming in his skull.
He felt nothing but HATE.
An explosion of raging magic burst from his soul as he summoned bones from
every possible angle and pierced all four larger Monsters through. That attack
did nothing for him as he constructed a bone into his hand and began beating
and stabbing what wasn't dust, screaming his head off as the air began to choke
up with dust.
The screaming brought forth the Captain and two trainers, who ran to the well
house and only gave pause when the fiery glare of Skeleton eyelights pinned on
them, bone constructs reforming mid-air above and around him, poised to attack.
The small Skeleton's stance was wide and bracing, his hand clenching around a
splintered bone construct with enough force to almost snap it, rib cage heaving
with snarling breath.
Behind him was his roommate, naked and bleeding from torn gills, her remaining
eye's pupil slit to almost hair-thin, hands clenching around a newly-formed
spear that was nowhere near as strong as it should be, magically.
Considering her state of undress, the Skeleton's offensive/defensive stance,
and the ruined, dusty clothing of four larger Monsters, it took only moments
for the Captain to guess what had transpired. His jaw tightened, not stupid
enough to think he would get a foot further into that well house without losing
SOMETHING to those bones, and kept eye contact with Papyrus as he stepped out
of the well house and closed the door behind him in a silent dismissal of the
event.
Papyrus's hand trembled violently as he dropped the construct, the others
vanishing in the air behind him. The initial trigger to his own trauma was
fading, and he was remembering that this WASN'T then. Those WEREN'T his father.
HE wasn't the victim. He quietly turned around, his roommate baring sharp teeth
at him, and he no longer wondered about their gender, since it was on display
so horrifically.
Seeing that her clothing had been torn completely, he almost mechanically took
off his jacket and silently held it out to her. There was no inner thought of
not caring about her. There was only a mutual understanding. This was a
covering of shame; a way to blanket the fact that it had happened, and a silent
conveying of the fact that what happened in here would stay in here. There was
nothing more he could do for her at this point.
She eyed the coat for several long moments before snatching it and putting it
on, buttoning it up all the way, the article of clothing barely covering what
it needed to, but still getting some of the job done as she took a few moments
to mentally steady herself before walking out of the well house with him.
There was no thank-you.
Papyrus didn't want one.
All they both wanted was to go to bed.
And so they did.
***** As They Do To You *****
Chapter Notes
     This was going to be two different chapters, but I cut some nonsense
     out and made it one; I don't want it too much longer than Full
     Circle, tbh.
She told him her name was Undyne.
There had been no prompting or requesting, but Papyrus got no sleep that night
as Undyne quietly talked from her side of the room for hours. He learned that
it had been her and her mother and her cousin for a long time in Waterfall. Her
cousin made a profit of using their shared species rarity to sell her and her
mother out to the worst kind of Monsters that wanted to sully something rare
and innocent.
For the most part, her mother took the brunt of everything and Undyne was
forced to watch. Still, her soul remained untarnished, as her mother somehow
managed to comfort her after every ordeal.
And then a particularly nasty Monster had tied her mother up and forced her to
watch as he mercilessly raped Undyne, thumbing her eye out to make her scream
louder as he did so. Undyne's mother somehow tore out of her bindings and
attempted to bite the Monster to death with her sharp teeth, only to be dusted
from a broken neck. And THAT was when Undyne's soul broke.
Undyne killed the Monster, killed her cousin, and attempted to kill a Guard who
had been called to the scene. She had been scouted into the Guard and that was
that.
She finished her sordid tale with a warning that if he spoke of it, she'd kill
him and to hell with the consequences of her own life before she turned over
and went to sleep.
Papyrus said nothing, but was unable to sleep for the rest of the night. The
similarities of their personal histories were too strong for him to just
ignore, and he felt a strong pulse of empathy in his soul that even his most
hateful thoughts could not quell down, and he knew it would be damn near
impossible to make it go away.
He had a rivalry with Undyne, but it did nothing to change the fact that he had
SAVED her. He had DEFENDED her. He had AVENGED her by killing her assailants,
and the fact that she spoke to him for the first time in nearly a year to tell
her story told him that she felt the same empathy he did.
It was a candid acknowledgment, and nothing that needed hugs or words of
sympathy for. It was simply something that was there, and Papyrus felt that he
could live with it. There were no empty promises to break, no real trust to
betray, and so they couldn't get hurt by the other with the information.
But the empathy WAS something that could be a tool for the other's downfall,
and had to be carefully monitored, lest he let his guard down even the
slightest bit. He wouldn't end up hurt like he had with—
"I didn't think he had it in him to do this, after all that talk about
protecting you."
"And you'll be living with me now, so you'll have to learn to like it since
Sans isn't here to take it for you anymore."
…..empathy.
Empathy absolutely SUCKED.
===============================================================================
The years in training passed, and the silent truce and rivalry he and Undyne
had never wavered, and never changed, even if they had.
Being the two youngest trainees, their growth and development was a jarring
sight to witness to the others. Undyne didn't bother hiding her gender anymore,
nor did she flaunt it. Although what had transpired in the well house never
left those who witnessed it, anyone coming anywhere near Undyne with less-than-
pure intentions outside of combat training would suddenly feel their sins
crawling on their backs, and the sight of a Skeleton Monster with a right eye
socket filled with hellfire magic would send them on their way.
After a few years, Undyne's skeletal shadow wasn't even needed; the Water
Monster grew up, bulked up, and became strong enough to the point where hand-
to-hand combat with her was a guaranteed loss of a limb, if not a death
sentence. The double-edged sword to that strength was a distaste of wanting to
touch anyone, and so everyone made sure to not piss her off to the point to
where she HAD to. Her combat methods were brutal and violent with no finesse to
speak of, but her one-hit kills were more than enough to make up for it, making
her a trainer favorite in their class.
More jarring than her growth was Papyrus's. For the first couple of years
Undyne had him beat in growth, but once he turned thirteen, he began outgrowing
his clothing within months and by his fourteenth year he was a full head taller
than Undyne and almost as tall as the adults. His petite bone structure
thickened and filled out with the physical training and soldier's diet he was
put on, and cracks in his bones became much fewer and far-between.
Provided, of course, someone was able to land a hit on him. Despite his size,
he was easily the fastest trainee, sometimes able to move in bursts of speed
that were so sudden it was almost like he could short-range teleport. His
fighting style was best described as 'elegant', with precise strikes made with
the least amount of energy, which served well into reserving magic and strength
for long battles.
As far as his magic attacks went, he had everyone beat no contest at control
over his own magic, as well as creativity in how many ways he could kill a
Monster with bones. For subduing only, he showed a unique mastery in blue
magic, something no other Monster had, not even Undyne, who was the resident
master of green magic. He honed it to the point where with proper
concentration, he could control a Monster's movements by a blue hold on the
soul.
He didn't focus much on that aspect; who had time to concentrate on one
particular thing when he could more than easily subdue them and then put a bone
through their head? That particular talent was put to the backburner for later.
Six months into his fourteenth year, he was out in the sparring field with his
class waiting for pair-offs when the head trainer walked out and called for
attention.
"This week begins the first step of your future!" he barked, pacing in front of
the line of trainees. "Starting today, you will be graded weekly based on
skill, demeanor, and work ethic to be given your ranks!"
Papyrus and the other trainees started at this revelation; rank gradings
shouldn't be happening for at least another six or so months, so why now? The
trainer had the answer.
"Captain Rex will be selecting a protege from this class to train himself in
preparation for his future retirement. The trainee who, at the end of their
training and shadowing period, attains Rank One, will be his apprentice." He
gave the trainees a bloodthirsty smirk. "This only happens once every few
decades or so, so congratulations on making it to this momentous occasion. Let
the bloodbath begin."
===============================================================================
By the end of the day, they had already lost a Monster in their class, but he
was not mourned. One less Monster meant one less in the competition pool, but
nothing was easier for those who remained.
Nobody slept well the next few nights, Undyne and Papyrus included; Papyrus,
for the most part, because Undyne kept a small light flickering as she did
something in a small mirror that irritated Papyrus enough to call her out on
it.
"Just WHAT is so important that you have to risk us getting our asses kicked
for being up past lights out?!" he demanded. Undyne scoffed, lowering the
mirror, showing that she was holding a small file in her hand.
"We're not just being judged on skill alone, punk," she replied, baring her
teeth at him, and Papyrus saw that they were sharper than he remembered them
being that morning. "If you can't intimidate on sight, you can't command
respect." She gave him a once-over. "Personally, unless you plan on getting any
taller or thicker, you honestly look like a stiff wind can knock your bony ass
over, and nobody's gonna be intimidated by THAT." She raised the mirror and
began filing at her teeth again.
Papyrus scowled, shoving his head under his pillow to block out the light, but
sleep did not come any easier. He stared at dark nothingness long after Undyne
finished her work and put her light out to go to sleep.
===============================================================================
The next day was a partial-free day, meaning the trainees were not REQUIRED to
do anything until their personal evaluation tests. Regardless of the fact, most
used that time to scope out the trainees that were called up for demonstrations
of skill and knowledge (and intimidation factor, not that it was either a
secret or explicitly spoken).
Trainees were called up at random in pairs to square off against one another.
They were graded on the fight and depending on their grade would declare them
either ready for shadowing, held back for more training, or given the option to
quit entirely and be allowed to go home—or anywhere—without repercussion. The
last option was most favorable to those with lower grades; once you joined
Guard training, you either graduated, died trying, or stuck it out for the exit
visa.
Undyne was one of the first trainees to be called up and squared off against a
Dog Monster. The two were equal in savagery of their respective fighting
styles, the Dog Monster had more speed to dodge Undyne's physical attacks, but
it was Undyne's superior talent in magic that won her the fight. Extra points
were added, the trainees who paid audience knew, when she bared her teeth and
let out a mockery doglike howl to solidify her victory.
Insult to injury—a Guard fan favorite.
The day wore on and trainees came and went from surveying and enjoying their
rare day off, but one remained, never moving from his spot for any battle.
Papyrus kept his profile low, which was exceedingly difficult given his height;
his ever-present dusty red scarf wrapped around his neck, tucking his chin down
into the cloth as he made himself scarce, his hands nonstop busy with his
puzzle cube that, despite the years of being handled, functioned as perfectly
as always.
Scramble, click into place, rinse and repeat.
It did not go unnoticed, but the other trainees wisely chose to not acknowledge
it. The LAST time someone had attempted to take either the scarf or the puzzle
from Papyrus, it had not ended well. Papyrus would leave both items in his dorm
if told to by a trainer, but at one point he was playing with his puzzle and a
trainee had snatched it out of his hands and loudly laughed at what an infant
Papyrus was, playing with toys. It was that day that Papyrus proved that being
entirely bones mattered nothing when a pissed-off Skeleton was repeatedly
punching you in the face. At the end of the ordeal, only Undyne could wrestle
him away from the Monster before the trainers could get involved, and nobody
touched the puzzle again.
"Papyrus versus Kerin! Front and center!"
Papyrus's hands paused on his puzzle for a beat before he put it into his
pocket, walking out to the sparring center, facing off against a larger
Monster, and coincidentally the very Monster who tried to take his puzzle from
him two years ago.
Of the same species as the Captain and filling out to be just as brutal, Kerin
was more of a force to be reckoned with now that he was older and stronger—and
wiser, if getting four teeth broken by a Skeleton punch was anything to testify
with—and he had a bone to pick with Papyrus now that they were allowed to
actually spar together, no bars held.
Kerin's slitted pupils constricted even further as Papyrus faced him in the
ring, baring his teeth at the Skeleton. "When I'm finished beating you into the
ground," he hissed, flexing his claws, "I'm going to crush that stupid puzzle
and make you eat the pieces, you little freak."
Papyrus said nothing, but his right eye socket began glowing with a brighter
intensity than his left eyelight, bones materializing in a patterned formation
behind him. He wasn't outdoing Kerin in battle so easily; boisterous as the
Reptile Monster was, he was still proficient in his own brand of magic—altering
his Attack and Defense to either land a devastating killing blow, or harden his
skin to near-impenetrable levels. However, either skill required a wide opening
to use, and Papyrus was more than proficient in subtlety.
Kerin bolted forward, swinging his weapon of choice—a warhammer—in Papyrus's
direction. Papyrus dodged, using his bones to knock the hammer off-kilter and
sweep Kerin's leg out from under him. Kerin swung the hammer back and used it
as leverage to kick Papyrus away, swinging the hammer in an arc to shatter
Papyrus's bones.
Papyrus righted himself, his right eyelight blazing as he summoned bones to jut
up from the ground and formed several more in the air to strike at Kerin at the
same time. Kerin swung his hammer to shatter some, dodged others, and simply
took the hit of what remained to rush Papyrus, his eyes glowing a more intense
red, signaling his descent into bloodlust.
Sparing his own energy, Papyrus took instead to dodging Kerin's increasingly
fast-placed blows, looking for an opening to strike; with Monsters in
bloodlust, it was difficult to do. Their reason went AWOL, but their natural
magic awareness rose and so did their unpredictability. Using a physical attack
was most effective in bloodlust-striken Monsters.
He found an opening and struck, using a summoned bone in his hand to stab into
Kerin's arm. Kerin roared, dropping his hammer and using his free arm to punch
Papyrus in the side of the head. Papyrus's eyelight blazed brighter, twisting
the bone in Kerin's arm and lurching upward, burying his teeth into Kerin's
neck and tearing out a chunk of flesh.
Kerin dropped like a stone, HP draining rapidly as he thrashed around, blood
spurting everywhere. The trainers made the call for the match to end seeing how
low Kerin's HP was getting, and declared Papyrus the winner, calling for the
healing instructor to stop Kerin's blood flow.
Before the healer could hurry over, a red glow appeared over Kerin's body, his
soul pulsing in his chest as his body levitated off the ground. Papyrus's right
eyelight made a fire-like blaze in his eye socket, his hand raising in tandem
with Kerin's body. For a long moment, nothing happened, and then the whole
arena heard the echoing sound of dozens of bones snapping as all of Kerin's
limbs twisted a complete 360 and his spine was snapped in half, his body
dusting before it hit the ground.
There was silence in the arena before Papyrus turned to go back to the
sidelines, and the reviewing trainers and trainees alike were greeted to the
sight of Papyrus's bloodstained mouth, his teeth filed to razor-sharp points,
illuminated by the hellfire glow in his scarred right eye socket.
===============================================================================
Papyrus stuffed the last of his few belongings into his bag before slinging it
over his shoulder and heading to the gate, being joined by only five others
from the class, Undyne included. Out of their class, only six were deemed
prepared enough to begin their shadowing, and after the--literally--killer
display in the sparring ring, nobody was surprised that Papyrus was one of
them.
Undyne commented that even she wasn't sure if it was Papyrus's soul-
manipulation killing blow or the sight of his sharp bloodstained teeth that got
him his passing grade, but either way if it was the latter, he owed her partial
credit for the idea.
"AND you owe me a new file," she groused, leaning against the wall of the gate.
"Your stupid bony teeth wore it down."
"Consider it payback for keeping me up all night filing your teeth," he
replied, taking out his puzzle cube. "You know I need complete darkness to
sleep."
Undyne rolled her eye. "You're such a wimp, bonehead, how will you EVER get
into the Royal Guard if you can't sleep without total darkness? You need to be
able to adapt to ANYTHING."
"And so I shall," Papyrus said, clicking the puzzle into perfection before
scrambling the blocks again. "By adapting to no sleep until there is total
darkness."
"You're such a smartass," Undyne muttered. "I only pity whoever decides to pick
YOU for shadowing."
"And I pity the one who picks YOU, if they're fans of sleep," Papyrus replied,
clicking the pieces quietly, glancing up when the gate opened and several
Guards walked in and looked over the newly-graduated trainees.
"Holy shit," Undyne muttered, her eye narrowing at the group, honing in on a
large Lion Monster. "That's Leon, the Royal Executioner. See what happens when
you steal my file?"
"Let it go, Undyne."
The newly-graduated trainees felt into silence as the head trainer stepped up
and began reading off where the trainees would be shadowing.
"Undyne, you will be shadowing Lieutenant Sabra in the Waterfall District," he
intoned, waiting for Undyne to grab her bag and walk up to a lizard-like
Reptile Monster with smooth, snakelike skin and a no-nonsense air about her.
"...Papyrus, you will be shadowing Executioner Leon in the Capitol."
A hush fell over the group as Papyrus put his cube away and walked up to the
imposing Lion Monster, giving the executioner a stiff salute before standing to
the side and waiting for the other four trainees to be sorted out.
There was no fancy speech for the graduated, only a dismissal as the gate was
closed. Undyne and Papyrus simply gave each other a curt nod before following
their respective superiors off in different directions.
Leon said nothing as he walked with Papyrus back toward the Capitol and into a
darker area that was less populated and almost debilitated, coming out into a
cobblestone clearing that held a large platform in the middle that was stained
with blood and dust residue.
"This is where you will be working for the next few years," Leon spoke at last,
his voice deceptively soft for his size and grizzled appearance. "There is no
shortage of lawbreakers in the Capitol, nor is there a shortage of stupidity.
Every first of the month, we have a public execution to remind everyone that
their lives are fleeting...that nobody is above the law. Sometimes even a
Guardsman become one of the executed."
He slipped a piece of paper out of a pocket, unfolding it and reading it aloud.
"'Papyrus shows proficiency in commanding respect and maintaining a sense of
social justice while not hesitating to weed out the criminal activity and
deliver a killing blow'." He glanced down at Papyrus. "Be honest. When you
delivered punishment, did it fit the crime?"
Papyrus didn't even hesitate. "Yes," he replied. "It did."
Leon gave a curt nod. "Very well then. We begin tomorrow, and see if you really
are Guardsman material."
===============================================================================
Time passes so quickly when one is occupied entirely by work, even more so when
one is so good at their job they're commissioned by another department to do
some work on the side.
Either way, Papyrus got paid.
He had been asked to reorganize the census records of the Underground as they
came in; the Head of Census hired him for his attention to detail and talent
for putting chaos into perfect order almost effortlessly.
Still, the organization took longer than it should have, since—like always—the
census for Snowdin was late.
It was difficult enough to get into Snowdin, even more difficult to get those
lowlifes to cooperate with anything government-oriented, let alone a simple
census record that should have taken only hours instead of days to complete.
Papyrus was already in a bad mood when it was late—he had already missed the
Sunday executions—and the delivery Monster who finally dropped the census files
off almost got a bone through the skull; lucky for the Monster, she was fast
and used to getting things thrown at her from irate workers.
Despite his irritation that this was taking so long, Papyrus refused to rush
his work, filing away the census with the same care he did the other districts.
It was that attention and dedication that gave him pause when he picked up the
next sheet in the pile and the name of the Snowdin citizen stood out like one
of Mettaton's gaudy neon signs.
SANS
Papyrus stared at the name, unaware that his hand was shaking until he heard
the paper rattling, and forced himself to lay it on the desk, taking a heavy
intake of air to settle his soul before looking back down on it.
NAME  SANS
SPECIES   SKELETON
AGE   24
OCCUPATION   SENTRY
STATUS   ALIVE
Papyrus enclosed one hand around the other, resting his chin on them, staring
at the paper intently. If the name alone was a coincidence, the species filing
was not. As far as Skeletons went, he and Sans were all that were left after he
killed Gaster, and he had put his brother into the back of his mind for the
longest time.
And now, here he was in bold print—living in Snowdin as a sentry. How far he
had fallen, from being a Royal Scientist to one of the most common of careers
in the worst part of the Underground. Papyrus might have laughed if he had
found this funny.
But he felt no humor. He didn't know what he felt. It wasn't the burning hatred
he felt the last time he saw him, nor was it complete apathy.
Strange.
After staring at the paper, Papyrus filed it away and finished the work,
writing down the census report, locking the file cabinet, and walking out,
remaining contemplatively silent all the way back to his apartment.
===============================================================================
"You're serious about this."
Papyrus's expression was one of complete seriousness as he stirred his lemon
slice in his cup of tea, keeping eye contact with Captain Rex from across the
table. He was at his final reviewing in an audience with the Captain himself,
enjoying the civil atmosphere that was so hard to come by in the Guard.
"I am, Captain Rex," he replied, pausing to sip his tea. It wasn't often that
someone was able to genuinely surprise the Captain, but he was pleased to find
that he apparently could. "I believe I can make a bigger contribution to the
Guard with this decision...make things run that much more smoothly for those in
our extended chapters." He took another sip. "Not to mention it would do my
mind wonders to have order where there is chaos. After waiting four extra days
to finish the census project...well...I cannot stand to leave a mess where I
know there is one."
Rex drummed his clawtips on his desktop, his expression contemplative. "You
were my first choice for Rank One, you know this, yes?"
"I had an inkling."
"And you're certain of this."
"I am."
Rex sighed, sitting back in his chair and picking up his own teacup. "Very well
then," he said, draining the cup and picking up a pen, putting down a marker
into Papyrus's file before stamping it with a golden seal that was kept under
lock and key for this business only.
"Welcome to the Royal Guard, Rank Two Guardsman Papyrus."
***** As You Want Done To Yourself *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Snowdin was worse than he had been expecting.
The laziness of the sentries, the disarray of the posts and buildings, the
scent of dust and blood in the air...oh, he had a LOT of work to do.
Papyrus was standing with the rest of the Guard while everyone waited for the
sentries to assemble, which took much longer than what it should have. He kept
a timer; it took twenty-four minutes for all of the sentries to assemble.
Unbelievable.
During his waiting he silently scanned the area for Sans, and it was only when
he saw bare tibia and fibula under long shorts that he finally honed in on one
of the smallest of the Monsters assembled that was bundled up in a large, ratty
coat.
…...so that was Sans. How...underwhelming. He hadn't grown an inch, it seemed.
Papyrus didn't expect Sans to be so small after ten years...so fragile-looking.
He broke out of his musings when the Captain called him forth and went through
the short formality of announcing his position before being left to his own
devices. Glancing over quickly, he saw that Sans apparently attempted to make
himself more discrete and inwardly scoffed at the childish behavior. If Sans
wanted to be ignored, then fine. Other things commanded his attention.
Like that pack of Monsters who attempted to usurp his authority. A quick bone
impaling and dispatching of their leader, and he thought he made himself pretty
damn clear who was in charge here. Dog Monsters especially were simple enough
to command respect from; whoever was the alpha was the boss, and he would be
having the Dogs in line singing a cadence by the end of the week.
He dismissed the sentries and turned to make his way to his housing unit,
pausing when he heard a voice say his name.
"PAPYRUS!"
He stood still for a beat, his fingers twitching before he forced them to
still, and turned around. Sans stood before him, hood down and red eyelights
glowing up at him. Gods, there had to be at least two and a half feet of height
difference between them, he was so small, so...
….weak.
He could see Sans's hands shaking from nerves, and didn't even have to wonder
why; this was the first time they were face-to-face in ten years, and the last
time they actually SPOKE was when Sans had thrown him into a wall and scarred
his skull, and Papyrus's last words to him were 'I hate you'.
"...Pap...bro..." Sans murmured, a spark of hope in his eyelights. That spark
heated something in Papyrus—anger. Sans DARED to hope for something good after
everything?! His own eyelights flickered with barely-concealed rage as he threw
his arm out and backhanded Sans into the snow.
He stared down at the pitiful little lump of weakness, sneering at the moisture
that collected in Sans's eye sockets as the smaller Skeleton raised a shaking
hand to press to his bruised cheekbone. "I believe I already told you how you
should address me, Sentry Sans," he said, his voice like cold steel, as hard as
his resolve to not let his emotions spoil anything for whomever might be
watching. "You would do well to remember it."
Sans lowered his gaze down to the snow, hands clenching slightly.
"...yes...Boss..." he murmured, a definite brimming of tears coming to the rims
of his eye sockets. Papyrus stared down at him, feeling a sense
of...satisfaction in his soul, hearing Sans call him that.
"That's right," he said, his eyelights gleaming. "That's what I am. That's ALL
I am, do you understand me?" He reached into his pocket, enclosing his hand
around his puzzle cube and took it out before dropping it in front of Sans; and
for the first time, he didn't feel naked without it. He didn't need it
anymore...not when he had the cause of his compulsive puzzling under his boot
to command.
"That's all I'll ever be to you."
He turned on heel and walked to his lodgings, his soul practically glowing in
his rib cage at how...oh, what was this? Was this GIDDINESS? Having the source
of his rage as HIS to command, to keep in HIS order of things? It was a good
feeling, he thought to himself as he unlocked the door to his new home.
A very good feeling.
===============================================================================
The house was a complete wreck, not that he expected anything less. Guards
posted here scarcely lasted two weeks at a time, and squatters often broke in
to stay for a spell. Papyrus took one look around and immediately got to work
with cleaning, knowing that he would not be sleeping a wink until it was in
proper order.
He opened the door to the basement, frowning when he heard an odd, hoarse
growling sound from down the short staircase, raising his hand and creating a
wisp of magic to see inside. Half-laying at the foot of the stairs was a large
emaciated beast that Papyrus almost mistook as a Monster, until he realized he
was unable to see its soul right away.
A dog beast down here was unprecedented, but not unheard of. Beasts from the
Surface sometimes fell down and those that survived roamed around the
Underground; more often than naught, they were captured and sometimes eaten.
Some Monster must have found this beast and kept it down for a lean winter
meal.
Papyrus walked down the stairs, making the light a little brighter to look the
beast over; it was heavily emaciated and looked like it had been beaten some
time ago. Its growls were weak, but the gleam in its eyes was hard and
determined to live. To survive another day despite being left down in a
basement to possibly starve to death.
"Today is your lucky day then, beast," Papyrus said, emitting a dominant aura
from his soul. "If you have any modicum of intellect, you will know that I am
your only buffer between life and death. Do you want to live?" The beast made
no noise, its ears flattening and head lowering submissively. "Good dog."
Papyrus dispelled the wisp of light and picked the beast up, noting how
lightweight it was despite its size, and carried it upstairs.
"I've heard stories of loyal dog beasts assisting humans in battle," he said
almost conversationally as he set the beast down on the floor. "They know who
their enemy is, but more importantly, they know who their master is. Obey me,
recover, and I will let you devour the Monster who locked you down there as a
reward."
The dog's ears perked slightly, and Papyrus smirked before fetching some water
for the beast. An attack beast for himself...yes, this was turning out to be
quite a strategic career move indeed.
===============================================================================
If Papyrus didn't have his dog beast to distract him from the complete disorder
that was Snowdin, he was sure he would be killing citizens left and right.
Most infuriatingly of all, was Sans.
It didn't take long for Papyrus to find out that Sans was the town drunk and a
general laughing stock because of his emotional outbursts. Apparently, some of
the Snowdin citizens thought that Papyrus might be the same way because more
than a few attempted to undermine, question, or usurp his authority; one drunk
sentry even came out of nowhere with a punch to the face while spouting off
about 'another prissy pissbaby Skeleton' to deal with.
Being that Papyrus was already in a foul mood, he went straight from 'heavy
mangling with a warning' to 'public execution', and made attendance MANDITORY.
If he was going to cement his authority in this place, he was going to do it
right.
During his shadowing years with Leon, the Executioner had taught him a great
many things, including the creed 'there's nothing that says an execution must
be quick and painless'. In fact, Leon preferred a method that would make it
sink in that breaking authority links in the chain of command when he was
performing his executions. He put Papyrus's precise control of magic to good
use, teaching him how to tear a Monster down piece by piece, HP by HP; how to
keep them in a constant limbo of alive and dusting until the very end.
Leon was the pragmatic sort that did not 'enjoy' his work, per se, but rather
saw it as a necessary lawful evil that must be committed to maintain order.
Papyrus found himself in that exact lane, only, unlike Leon, he DID enjoy it to
a degree. It was the same thrill he got when using his lesser-utilized ability
to control a Monster through their soul; being in complete command of life and
limb. Execution day every first of the month became something to look forward
to, especially on the day when Leon gave him complete carte blanch to do
whatever he wanted.
Papyrus recalled that day vividly, as he set with his first Snowdin public
execution; dispatching that whimpering mutt on his first day here truly didn't
count. THIS counted. Working with an audience as he began with the fingers and
worked his way in, tearing off claws, peeling back skin, snapping bones,
letting the condemned scream until he couldn't scream anymore.
It went on for three hours, and then he finally allowed the Monster to die.
From the looks the townspeople had on their faces, he was sure he had gotten
his point across, and made a mental note to build an execution platform in the
near future; a visual reminder always worked better than a mental one.
The laws he set out were quite simple; no public fighting, and no unauthorized
killing. Authorized fights were to come to him for approval, and approve he
did. Quarrels were settled and order was maintained.
But of course...Sans had to be in the middle of discourse.
Papyrus was walking back to his home with some food to give to his dog beast
when a loud crashing of a window made him look up in time to see Sans diving
toward the ground. By reflex, he threw out his hand and stopped the descent
with a hold on Sans's soul, rushing over to survey the situation.
Sans was out cold with several tears to his jacket, and Papyrus could smell
alcohol on his breath. He growled, ready to dust the bastard from annoyance
alone, when he looked up and saw a set of eyes peeking down from the broken
window.
Papyrus's eyelights blazed, throwing up his hand and creating a bar of bones
over the window before bolting into the building and up the stairs, catching
one Monster on his way down en route and pinning him to the stairwell wall with
a bone through the shoulder, then burst into the tiny one-room apartment and
saw two more Monsters trying to wrench the bones off of the one window of the
place.
It took no effort to subdue them and drag all three out, seeing two off-duty
sentries hurry over to check the matter. Papyrus glanced over at Sans, who was
still passed out on the snow.
"Get him to the jailhouse," he commanded. "And I have already surveyed his
condition; I had BEST see the same condition when I stop by later." The
sentries gave him shaky nods and hurried off with Sans as Papyrus glowered at
the three would-be assassins. "I believe I made myself PERFECTLY. CLEAR. When I
said that unauthorized killing was now illegal," he hissed, his eyelights
glowing furiously. "Premeditated attempted murder is punishable by death."
He ignored their pleading and dragged them to the town center, getting to work
on their executions immediately.
===============================================================================
Papyrus was certain his new law about public drunkenness wasn't winning him any
more favor, but he didn't care. He had already voiced his distaste to his
brother, who seemed shamed enough to keep his head down and work a little
harder to not be a complete embarrassment.
Still, Papyrus kept a closer eye out for Sans after the elder Skeleton's
community service was over, and things did not get better.
Sans didn't return to his apartment, even though Monsters didn't go anywhere
NEAR it; instead, Papyrus would spot Sans's hunched form through the windows of
Grillby's bar, though he would shrewdly see that no more than one drink was
ever in Sans's hand. Good; it seemed that Sans was capable of intelligent
decisions.
…..not so much later, when Papyrus's mole within Grillby's bar told him that
Sans was renting out a closet in the bar to live in, and that several Monsters
were scoping out the empty apartment waiting for a chance to get Sans alone
again.
Oh, this would not do, not at all.
It was absolutely ridiculous; Papyrus may have been barely out of baby bones-
age when Sans flipped his shit, but he still remembered the power Sans held;
the ability to lift another Monster's soul and infuse ordinary objects with
magic wasn't something many adolescent Monsters could do, considering Sans
hadn't even hit magical maturity yet. Sans should be MORE than able to protect
himself, inebriated or not.
So why, then, was Sans the weak-willed laughingstock of this backwater town?
Papyrus scowled as he made his way to Grillby's after learning about Sans's
living situation; it seemed that with every step forward he made in this
hellhole, Sans was DETERMINED to drag it two steps back. He stalked into the
bar, grabbed Sans, and dragged him out, making a mental note to keep closer
tabs on Grillby; he REALLY didn't like the way the Fire Monster looked at him
sometimes.
He had seen a drink with Sans's meal, and pushed the smaller Skeleton slightly
to test his balance; all was fine, and Papyrus could even see a spark of
defiance in his eyelights as he glowered up at him, hand clenching by his side.
The motion gave Papyrus a small twitch in the back of his mind, recalling
ANOTHER time when the Skeleton before him had that spark and preparedness to
strike out. He smothered it back and grabbed the back of Sans's shirt, pulling
him in the direction of his newly-finished house.
It wasn't homey by any standards; his downstairs was bare save for one chair
and a set of brands and pokers on the hearthstone, as well as a wall lined with
an assortment of weapons. On the floor in front of the fireplace was his dog
beast, who raised its head and growled when they walked in. Papyrus silenced it
with a look and dragged Sans to his equally-bare kitchen, shoving him back into
a chair before turning to rummage through his drawers.
"It's unavoidable to keep the fact that we are brothers out of question," he
said lowly, his voice full of distaste at the notion. "And that means
everything that YOU do reflects on ME." He glanced over at Sans, who stiffened
in the chair. "I will NOT have a drunk for a brother, I will NOT have a
vagabond for a brother..." He despised how small and WEAK the elder Skeleton
looked, sitting there like a child. "...and I WILL NOT HAVE A WEAK LITTLE
PISSANT FOR A BROTHER."
He grabbed a large file from the drawer, turning around to face Sans. "It's all
about image, Sans," he said, turning the file in his hand. "So let's SHARPEN
that image."
Sans visibly sweated, leaning back in the chair. "...w...what...?" he said,
staring at the file in Papyrus's hands. "...what are you gonna do with—" He
yelped when Papyrus grabbed his skull and jerked it back.
"Open your mouth," Papyrus commanded, then growled when Sans's eyelights
constricted, jaw going tight. "I SAID OPEN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, SANS, BEFORE I
OPEN IT FOR YOU."
Sans let out a pathetic whimper and slowly lowered his jaw, and Papyrus wasted
no time in honing in on a tooth and filing. Sans let out a strangled cry of
pain and made a move to jerk away, but Papyrus clamped his hand around his
skull tightly. "Unless you want me to get a bar gag, you'll STAY STILL," he
growled, resuming his filing.
It took hours to do, when Papyrus had to pause several times to smack Sans into
silence and let the smaller Skeleton spit out blood and saliva. When it was
over, Sans looked close to passing out, but Papyrus was having nothing of it.
"Your shift starts in a half-hour," he said, washing his file off in the sink,
giving Sans a sideways glance and seeing the look of agonized incredulousness
on his face. "Rinse out your mouth and get to your post. I will not excuse a
tardiness when I KNOW you're able to make it in time."
Not a moment after Sans left the house, Papyrus dropped the file in the sink
and stared at it, his hands clenching tightly into the counter.
What the fuck did he just DO!?
He intended to bring Sans over and negotiate a living situation; as soon as
Sans was in his house and looking so PATHETIC...
...he wanted the smaller Skeleton to SUFFER.
To SUFFER for being so weak.
To SUFFER for being so easy to maneuver.
To SUFFER for making Papyrus give a damn.
Papyrus pushed back from the sink and stalked upstairs, past his own
bedroom—and the only real luxury he afforded himself—and to the spare room,
back when Guards came in pairs until the Royal Guard decided not to keep
wasting Guardsmen on this place. It was completely barren, and Papyrus
originally had no use for it.
Well, now he did.
Goddamn it.
===============================================================================
It seemed like a blink of an eye later, and Papyrus was looking at the spare
bedroom which now had a mattress with a pillow and blanket, and a closet with a
couple of brand-new outfits inside, and again he wondered 'What the fuck did I
just do?'.
All he could think about was Sans living in a closet, of Sans wearing
threadbare, dirty torn clothing, and like Sans being previously small and weak-
looking, and his incessant need to put chaos into order took control and
remedied the problems. It was a nuisance that only got worse since he gave his
puzzle back to Sans.
The pissant fool probably threw it away by now, and Papyrus was going to be
hard-pressed to find a new one.
Still, he waited until Sans's shift ended, checking the clock every so often as
he waited for Sans to come, knowing he'd be going to Grillby's first. He
practically had to threaten the Fire Monster to relay the message to Sans
without delay, but whatever got the job done. Sans arrived twenty minutes after
shift change, and Papyrus could see he was close to passing out from the pain
and exhaustion, which only sparked his ire. Even in a town who took the creed
of the Underground closest to heart, he would think that Sans would be more
used to staying awake to watch his own back.
He commented on Sans's laziness and informed him of the new living
arrangement...and was met with silence. He turned and saw Sans with an odd
expression on his face...one that almost looked disturbed and...
...ungrateful.
A flash of rage burst from his soul; how DARE Sans react with ungratefulness!?
HOW FUCKING DARE HE!? "Is that ungratefulness I see on your face Sans?" he
snapped, stalking over and grabbing Sans by the front of his shirt. "I replace
those HIDEOUS excuses of clothing with something more SUITABLE!" He slammed
Sans into the wall. "I even take steps to insure that you will not EMBARRASS
yourself in this filthy excuse of a domicile, and you repay me with with
UNGRATEFULNESS!?"
Sans sputtered out, "I...I AM grateful! REALLY, Papyrus I AM—!"
Papyrus saw red at the sound of his name coming from Sans's mouth, slamming
Sans into the wall again. "WHAT did I say about how you should address me!?" he
snapped, slamming Sans into the wall again before letting him drop. Sans sat
slumped on the floor, a shaking, tearful mess. "Look at me," he hissed,
clenching his fists tightly, letting out a growl when Sans did not. "I SAID
LOOK AT ME!"
The sight of tears in Sans's eye sockets filled Papyrus with disgust, and the
urge to just...HURT something...intensified. He turned on heel and walked over
to his wall of weapons, taking down a short whip and cracking it before turning
back to Sans.
"I think you need some TRAINING, Sans, to remind you of how your betters should
be addressed."
===============================================================================
It seemed that with proper encouragement, Sans truly WAS capable of being
trained for the better.
Sans was dressed in better clothing which, paired with his newly-healed
sharpened teeth, did wonders for his image. The elder Skeleton took more care
into his upkeep, keeping his bones and clothes clean and even kept his teeth
sharpened.
With Papyrus's micro-management, Sans was running on a clockwork schedule, not
sleeping in or staying up too late when it was unneeded, and was never late for
work, or for any errand Papyrus had him working on.
It couldn't even be considered favoritism, letting Sans stay with him. For all
of his improvement, Sans was still a major work in progress, and Papyrus could
only shudder to think what sort of conditioning living a decade in this place
had done for Sans's unsavory bad habits. Ten years was a lot of junk to clear
out of the gears before Sans would be a properly-functioning member of society,
and Papyrus was more than willing for the challenge.
…..but why?
Papyrus often laid awake at night, staring up at the black void of the ceiling
as he thought about it. Sans should not be worth the effort. The elder brother
was weak, both in will and in mind; it was easier to train a dog beast than it
was to train that wreck of a Monster into the most basic of functions, to obey
the simplest of orders without fucking up in SOME way.
And yet, Papyrus kept at it. Kept trying to improve Sans, to make him stronger,
to keep him on his toes, to make sure what happened at his old apartment never
happened again.
All in spite of the fact that Sans had, deliberately and with full intention,
broken Papyrus's spirit, trust, and capacity to love...truly, had broken
Papyrus's heart.
Papyrus strove to shove such thoughts out of his mind as he made his rounds
around Snowdin on Sans's day off, making sure everything was running smoothly,
just for some sense of order in the chaos that was his mind at the moment. He
passed by Grillby's, and paused. He could feel Sans's soul echo, though not IN
Grillby's bar...but rather back behind it.
He silently walked around behind the bar, and began hearing sounds; none that
he was unfamiliar with, and brought red back to his vision that he fought to
quell down as he peered through a gap in the fence.
There, bent over a garbage can, was his older brother, sobbing and moaning
incoherently as the Fire Monster thrust into him from behind.
It took every ounce of Papyrus's control to not completely lose it, unwilling
to watch, but unable to look away as Sans's incoherent blubbering began to take
form into words.
"I'm sorry, Papyrus."
"I'm the worst fucking brother."
"I hate myself."
"I'm sorry, Papyrus."
"I did this to him."
"I let him get hurt."
"I'm sorry, Papyrus."
"I can't do anything right."
"I hate myself."
"I deserve this."
"I deserve to die."
"I'm sorry, Papyrus."
"I'm sorry, Papyrus."
"Papyrus."
"Papyrus."
"PAPYRUS!"
Papyrus was back in his house before he was even aware of it, blinking hard and
seeing his dog beast staring at him almost in confusion as to why he was there
so early in the day. Papyrus numbly walked down to the basement, stared at the
stone wall for a good few minutes, then let out a scream as he violently
punched it, creating a cracked dent in the stone.
"GOD-FUCKING-DAMN IT!" he screamed, punching the wall again. "YOU FUCKING PIECE
OF SHIT!" Again. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!?" Again. "HOW DARE YOU!?" Again. "HOW
DARE YOU TOUCH WHAT IS MINE, YOU FLAME-RIDDEN PIECE OF SHIT!?"
Again.
"HOW DARE YOU LET HIM TOUCH YOU!?"
Again.
"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU SAY MY NAME!?"
Again.
"HOW DARE YOU!?"
Again.
And silence.
Papyrus stared at the cracked stone wall before putting his hand over his face,
hysterical laughter rattling his rib cage as he fought to smother it down. The
laughter turned into something between a groan and a growl as he leaned against
the wall, his soul pulsing violently in his chest and pooling a hot mess of
magic into his pelvis.
In the past ten years, adolescence included, Papyrus had never had the notion
for sex. Ever. His father—may his bones be charring in Hell—had ruined that for
him. He had not looked at another person with the inkling, let alone touched
anyone.
But this.
The sight of his older brother, brokenly sobbing and calling his baby brother's
name, was doing it for him.
What should have been a pleasurable sensation, one created from a desire to
mate, was only growing ugly, making his magic turn from blood-red to nearly
black, the magic shifting around almost desperately, taking form into something
that once haunted his nightmares for years, but now took the form of his
desire.
It wasn't the desire to mate.
It was the desire to TAKE.
To OWN.
To conquer and make Sans HIS and HIS ALONE.
And to make him enjoy every.
Fucking.
Moment.
Chapter End Notes
     Gonna have a short wrap-up chapter after this one.
***** Which Comes Back To You *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
It was no longer something he even bothered to deny if asked (though no one
really had the grit to ask him anyway).
He cared.
He cared more than he should, in WAYS he shouldn't, about Sans.
It was...healing, at first, the beginning of their new relationship. A way that
put his mind back into proper working order, like his puzzle cube used to, only
he was putting the greatest chaos in his life into the order he wanted.
Subservient.
Obedient.
HIS.
He hadn't lied when he told Sans he was going to break him and make him ENJOY
it. He wanted Sans to be torn apart and remade in a way Papyrus would approve
of. For the entire night and well into the morning, Papyrus indulged himself in
every new, practically virginal, whim, letting his instincts and magic do most
of the guidance, but by gods if they weren't on point.
By the end of it all, Sans was nearly unconscious and still squirming for more
and Papyrus was exhausted, but full of a new form of power, and one he wanted
to express in every way possible.
And express he did.
Incorporating his passion for inflicting pain into his new sex life was
mutually beneficial, since Sans seemed to be a craver of punishment, submitting
himself to every whim Papyrus had to explore. Papyrus knew of Sans's 1 HP and
worked his way around it, but it seemed nothing he did upset that precious
balance, and Sans knew it. So the elder brother opened himself willingly to
Papyrus's infliction of pain with such...
Trust.
Papyrus had that revelation after a not-so-casual conversation with Grillby,
who, as it turned out, had some form of actual affection for the elder Skeleton
brother and asked Papyrus if he would 'let the little dog off the leash and let
him come over for a drink sometime'.
How the conversation had gone from extending Grillby's alcohol permit to Sans
was beyond Papyrus's comprehension, but then Grillby made a passing comment
about not having to worry about Sans getting into unsavory behavior because
"You know, you could stand to trust him as much as he trusts you."
Trust.
Papyrus HATED that word. It was a word that was as broken as every promise that
had ever been made to him, and it hadn't ever crossed his mind that Sans
TRUSTED him with anything, let alone his own life.
But he looked at it from every side; Sans trusted Papyrus to pull back before
permanent damage was done. Sans trusted Papyrus to keep him out of trouble.
Sans trusted Papyrus with his soul every time it was bared during their
lustmaking, to not shatter it in his grip and instead use it to punish and
pleasure him.
Papyrus was no fool. He saw the way Sans would look at him when he wasn't
cowering under Papyrus's fists. It was a look of WANT. Of DESIRE. Of the same
emotion he once had when they were both young—love.
That disgusting emotion that had only caused Papyrus pain and agony when it was
ripped away and betrayed. LOVE served him much better in life than love did.
For Sans to allow himself to indulge in that agony made him the biggest
masochist in the Underground, knowing that Papyrus would never...
…reciprocate.
Love him back.
Papyrus spent hours of his personal downtime in his home, absently petting his
dog beast's head as he stared into the fireplace and pondered over the enigma
that was his brother when the door opened and Sans walked in. The scent of
blood and marrow reached him, and he turned around to see Sans holding a hand
to his bleeding mouth, his bones scraped and bruised and clothes ratted up.
A protective instinct surged in Papyrus as he jumped up from his chair and
hurried over, any demands of who did what, and in what way should they die
stopping halfway out his mouth when he saw the almost...satisfied look on
Sans's face. "What the hell happened?" he demanded, clenching his hands.
Sans wiped his mouth, and Papyrus saw that Sans was missing his upper-left
canine tooth. "Got jumped by Rufus," he said, chuckling softly. "Sonofabitch
got drunk thought I'd be an easy kill. Punched me a few times, kicked my tooth
out..." He groped around for a cloth to stave off the bleeding. "Bein' the
RESPONSIBLE sentry, I beat his ass down and threw him in the jailhouse for
public drunkenness and unauthorized fighting." He abandoned his search for a
clean cloth and instead took a folded piece of paperwork from his pocket.
"Here's the report. Sorry if there's blood on it."
Papyrus just listened to Sans speak, hearing a bite and confidence he'd never
heard in his brother's voice before and seeing the gleam of pride in his
eyelights. Sans had stood up for himself and taken down another Monster on his
own and followed the laws Papyrus set out to do so, something Papyrus hadn't
seen in his experience, or heard of from Sans's ten years here.
Sans turned to look up at Papyrus, the bright gleam in his eyes dimming
slightly, his expression going from satisfied to almost...it was like Sans's
whole face was screaming 'did I do good, Boss? Are you proud? I'm not weak, I'm
not useless!'
Papyrus recognized that look.
It was the look he remembered having when he was a baby bones, holding up a new
puzzle or math page to Sans, asking for approval.
Papyrus stood there in silence before taking Sans by the arm and pulling him
into the kitchen, wetting a cloth and wiping off Sans's dirty skull. "I just
bought that jacket and already it's managed to get torn and filthy," he said
stiffly, feeling Sans's skull flinch under his hands. "...you may decide his
manner of execution first thing tomorrow."
Sans said nothing, letting Papyrus wash his skull off. Papyrus dabbed around
the missing tooth, feeling his jaw tighten. Sans was a full-grown adult
Skeleton, and teeth didn't grow back easily, even with magic. And with Sans at
1 HP, he was sure it was gone forever.
'That piece of shit Monster broke him,' he hissed in his mind as he finished
cleaning the blood from Sans's face. 'I'll pull every tooth out of his goddamn
head, empty out his eye sockets, and stuff the teeth in their place—!'
"'m sorry, Boss."
Sans's voice snapped Papyrus out of his thoughts, looking down and seeing
Sans's confident posture from just five minutes ago shrink down, eyelights
dimming and downcast. "'m sorry...he got a cheap shot on me, an' I didn't
respond fast enough...'m fuckin' useless, fuckin' weak useless GARBAGE—"
He cut off with a sharp gasp when Papyrus's teeth clanked to his. Pain in his
mandible be damned, Sans instantly went into submissive mode, his jaw going lax
and his body relaxing to allow Papyrus to mold and move him like a puppet to
his will.
So trustingly.
Papyrus pushed Sans away, gripping his hand into the counter, not even looking
at Sans to know that the elder brother was confused as to why Papyrus would
start something and then end it so quickly. "...B...Boss..."
"Get out."
"...Boss—"
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, SANS!"
Papyrus didn't look up, hearing Sans sprint out of the kitchen and out of the
house. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eye sockets, but still couldn't
get that LOOK out of his head...that look of desperation of approval, of pride,
of love, of TRUST...
Sans trusted him to take care of him.
But more importantly, Sans still loved him.
Papyrus staggered out of the kitchen, finding himself in Sans's bare bedroom,
looking around silently. It was in the same condition he had left it in when he
first made it up; a mattress with just a single sheet and pillow, a closet
without a door with clothes lovingly hanging up, tidy as a pin as Papyrus liked
it. Nothing out of place...
….except for a thick crack in the wood paneling in the closet wall.
Papyrus frowned, having never noticed anything like that during his weekly
inspections to make sure Sans wasn't delving back into slob behavior. He knelt
down and ran his hand over the crack, pushing on the paneling and finding that
it slid to the side; a secret nook in the closet, then. It had obviously been
here since the house was built, for safekeeping of documents or the such.
Inside the crevice was a cardboard box that Papyrus fished out and quietly
opened, taking miscellaneous items out.
A large bottle of Grillby's top-shelf liquor, still unopened, was the first
thing on top and Papyrus let that one slide. For now. Under the bottle was a
stack of miscellaneous papers, and when he pulled them out to look he saw that
they were all papers HE had worked on when he was a child, tidy handwriting and
equations and all, even his name signed at the bottom like some sort of self-
imposed stamp of approval.
Underneath the papers was a child's striped sweater that Papyrus instantly
recognized as his own, and the one he vividly recalled wearing the day Sans
scarred his skull; there was even a stain of marrow around the collar. He
pulled it out to look at it, pausing when something dropped out from being
wrapped up in the sweater.
His puzzle cube.
Papyrus stared at the cube for the longest time, his mind shifting around like
the rows of colored blocks that remained unsolved like the puzzle on the floor
in front of him. Sans had kept the puzzle.
Sans kept all of this...old math sheets, his sweater...even old puzzle books
that remained untouched at the bottom of the box, things that Sans must have
taken from their old home back in the Hotlands and kept for ten years.
Reminders of him. Reminders of Papyrus, like someone would keep after the
owners of the items had dusted...
...and it occurred to him that Sans must have thought Papyrus was dead for
those ten years. Guard training was a bloodbath that even teenage or adult
trainees barely stood a chance of surviving; for a ten-year-old newly-injured
Skeleton Monster with no previous survival training...
Even if Papyrus had died in training, there was no way for Sans to receive the
dust that would have been left, so all he had was...this. A box of puzzle
books, work sheets, and a personal item that still smelled of Hotland air, of
childhood and happier times before it all fell apart; a reminder, a constant
punishment that Sans losing his brother was HIS fault...
Papyrus put the items back into the box and returned it to the hidden nook,
walking out of Sans's room and closing the door before leaning against it,
feeling the weight of a thousand sleepless nights, of every happy childhood
memory and that one night that tore it all to pieces push down on his body and
weigh down his soul with something he had forgotten for a decade.
Care.
He CARED about Sans.
He CARED whether or not Sans was hurt.
He CARED about never going so far with Sans that he couldn't be put back
together after.
He spent ten years throwing away any scrap of affection he once had for Sans,
only to start piling it up again, being the one to take care of his brother
instead of the other way around; being the one to hurt his brother instead of
the other way around.
But Sans endured, begged, clung, and crawled back for more because...
…..because...he'd spent ten years thinking that dead brothers can't touch him.
Papyrus stalked down the stairs, grabbing the door and jerking it open to go
find Sans—
Only for Sans to tip backwards with an utter lack of grace, having been leaning
against the door that whole time like a pet waiting for its master to let it
back in. Sans blinked, staring upside-down up at Papyrus, his cheekbones
turning red. "I...I didn't mean to...I...I'm sorry, Boss, I—"
"Sit up."
Sans sat up on command, scrambling to his feet, his posture curled up on
itself, and for once, Papyrus hated it. He had seen Sans—the REAL Sans—stand
upright with pride and satisfaction of being able to endure a beating and rise
up to protect himself; he had heard the bark Sans had to his bite, a spark of
the brother that had scarred him shining through, but this time with intent to
project his rage toward others while showing his little brother that he was
okay, he was strong, he wasn't going to let anything hurt him or Papyrus...
Papyrus grabbed Sans's jacket and dragged him inside, shutting the door,
locking it, giving his dog beast a hand signal to keep watch over the door, and
then picked his small brother up, carrying him upstairs toward his own bedroom.
Sans was silent this whole time, his body an odd mix of stiffness at the
unfamiliar gesture and lax at the instinctive submissiveness that had been
beaten and fucked into him for several months now. Papyrus walked into his
bedroom, shutting the door behind him, and dropped Sans onto his bed, his
eyelights glowing in the dark room. Sans made a move to take off his clothes,
but Papyrus smacked his hands away and pinned him back on the bed, looming over
him.
"Did you enjoy it?"
Sans frowned at the odd question, an anxious sweat breaking out on his skull.
"...I...don't understand..." he replied softly, flinching when Papyrus let out
a growl.
"Did. You. Enjoy. It," Papyrus repeated, the hand splayed next to Sans's head
clenching the duvet slightly. "Did you enjoy surviving a beating from another
Monster? Did you enjoy getting up and showing him who the superior breed is?
DID YOU ENJOY BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF HIM?"
Sans's cheekbones gained a slight flush as he squirmed under Papyrus's sharp
gaze. "...yes," he replied softly.
"What?"
"...yes."
"DID YOU ENJOY IT?"
"YES! I FUCKING ENJOYED IT! HE'S BEEN A FUCKING PRICK SINCE I GOT HERE, AND I
FUCKING LOVED PUNCHING HIS SMUG FACE!" Sans shouted, that biting spark
returning to his eyelights for a few brief moments before dimming and
constricting. "...'m sorry, Boss, I didn't—"
"You did," Papyrus growled, reaching down and jerking Sans's shorts open,
pulling them off and throwing them to the floor. "You MEANT to shout because
you MEANT what you SAID." He took Sans's jaw in his hand, forcing Sans to look
at him. "You are my toy, Sans," he practically purred. "You are my toy, my pet,
my body to fuck...and you are my brother."
Sans's mess of perplexed emotions was interrupted by Papyrus's tendrils of
magic curling around his legs, doing more squeezing and massaging rather than
pinning down, though. The hand around his jaw tightened.
"Do you understand, Sans?" Papyrus continued, his eyelights going sharp. "You
are MY toy." His free hand wrapped around Sans's spine, making the smaller
Skeleton let out a yelp of shock and pleasure. "MY pet." He squeezed and
relaxed his hand fluidly, watching Sans's flush grow deeper. "MINE to fuck,
MINE to inflict pain on, MY BROTHER." He growled, pressing his teeth to Sans's,
forming a tongue that slithered into the gap of Sans's missing tooth for a
moment before pulling back, taking note of Sans's desperate leaning inward to
keep it going, and pushed him back down again.
"That MEANS, Sans, that I will be very, VERY displeased if I see you EVER
yielding to another Monster."
Sans arched off the bed with a loud moan when the tendrils curled around his
constructed cock, squeezing at the same pace as the hand around his spine.
"FUCK—B-BOSS—PAPYRUS—!"
Papyrus bit over Sans's jaw, reaching down and tugging his pants open. "Who do
you belong to?" he demanded, biting down on Sans's clavicle. Sans arched his
chest to Papyrus's mouth, hissing.
"You—SHIT—" he swore with Papyrus bit down harder, cracking the bone.
"I want a NAME, Sans!" he growled, biting down again.
"Pa—Papyrus...!" Sans yelped, reaching up to blindly grope for Papyrus's
shoulders, only to have both wrists pinned over his head by Papyrus's free hand
as the other squeezed and stroked Sans's spine. "PAPYRUS—!"
Papyrus stilled his hand, his tendrils slowly vanishing from around Sans's
body, making the smaller Skeleton's eyelights sharpen slightly with a returning
lucidity. His bones trembled, soul pulsing in his rib cage from being close to
orgasm only to have it stalled. "...B...Papyrus...?"
"Beg for me, Sans," Papyrus growled, his razor-sharp teeth grazing the side of
Sans's skull, eliciting a violent shudder down Sans's spine that Papyrus could
feel in his hand. "Beg for me and mean it. Say you're MINE, and mean it. Say
you want this and MEAN IT..." His hand unclenched from Sans's spine, making the
smaller Skeleton almost wail at the loss of contact.
"...or, if you don't want it, or don't mean it, say nothing," Papyrus
continued, his voice oddly void of its normal authoritative tone and sounding
much younger than it normally did. "I have already broken you, Sans. I have
already made you moan and beg like a common whore, all while giving you no out
and no choice but to make you beg for me to give you release."
He sat up, his eyelights as faraway as his voice, sitting on the edge of his
bed and staring blankly into the darkness of his room, giving off the eerily
unresponsive, disassociative vibe he had the month after his skull scarring.
"If you don't want this...there's your out." He vaguely gestured for his
bedroom door. "If you don't want this, I will never touch you again. I
promise."
There was nothing but a screaming silence in the room for the longest time
before Papyrus heard Sans sit up. There was a beat of more silence, and then
Papyrus felt a pair of arms curl around his shoulders, and felt a skull press
against the back of his scapula.
"...I want you to fuck me," Sans said, his voice muffled by Papyrus's shirt. "I
want you to fuck me. I want you to hurt me." His hands clenched tightly. "I
want you to pin me down and choke me and bruise me. I want you to scar me like
I scarred you...because...be...god fucking DAMN it, Papyrus..." He let out a
muffled sob. "Only you can do this shit and MAKE ME LOVE YOU FOR IT...! SO
PLEASE!" His phalanges clawed at Papyrus's shirt. "PLEASE, BOSS! FUCK ME! HURT
ME! USE ME, BOSS, PLEASE—!"
And Papyrus obliged.
===============================================================================
It wasn't a change that was explicitly spoken, but they both knew it was there.
The dynamic of their relationship changed. There were signals now, of whether
or not Sans was in the mood; for the most part he WAS, but Sans still had bad
days triggered by seemingly nothing, where his narcolepsy and mood flared and
he had no other duty but to get to work on time and get home.
It was a tentative trust; Papyrus TRUSTED Sans not to abuse the signal for 'I
need the standard fare day', and Sans never did.
They had a safeword now, for when Sans absolutely couldn't psychologically or
physically handle something Papyrus wanted. It too was rarely used, and usually
coincided with one of Sans's bad days, where touches from behind and tendrils
of magic were too much to bear as horrible flashbacks to his own ruined
childhood flared.
In those days, Papyrus found himself empathizing completely; seeing a small
form having a panic attack over touch or magic appendages would be enough to
dissipate his own mood, and instead the evening would be spent in almost
domestic peace and silence.
In those nights, Sans would curl up on his mattress in his own room with his
day clothes still on and his hood pulled over his head in an attempt to muffle
the screams from the nightmares he was sure to have. Papyrus would lie awake in
his own bed, hearing the screaming, and being unable to do anything about it
without making it worse. His dog beast posted outside of Sans's room as the one
shred of security Sans had would have to do on those nights.
But nights where there were no signals, no panic attacks, no triggers, no
safewords...those were nights to live for. They would begin after dinner with a
gleam of good-anxious anticipation in Sans's eyelights and end with Sans
sobbing and shaking and Papyrus thoroughly satisfied. He would undo any
restraints—if there were any—from Sans, heal over the wounds with his magic,
and just lay with him until the trembling stopped and the smaller Skeleton
weakly dragged himself over to Papyrus's side of the bed and curled up into his
younger brother's side, his frame relaxed within the safe crook of Papyrus's
arm.
Papyrus was done with broken promises and misguided trust; and there was
nothing but bare truth between him and Sans. There were days when Sans would
call Papyrus every insult in the book—sadist, megalomaniac, dirty brother-
raper—and Papyrus would take the insults and return the favor with beatings and
insults of his own—weakling, masochistic freak, soul-crusher—and there would be
no apologies for it.
It was a mutual understanding, and if they could trust to take what the other
slung their way, then yes, Sans could curl into Papyrus's side and trust to
have a good night's sleep, just as Papyrus could trust Sans to be the only
Monster in the Underground who wouldn't put a weapon through his soul whilst he
slept in turn.
It was sick.
It was cruel.
It was wrong.
But at the end of the day, when he had someone who could do to him what he did
to them and still sleep within soul's reach of them, there was nothing more
right in his life he could depend on.
THE END
Chapter End Notes
     This is over now, but since I have a compulsive need to wrap my fics
     up into perfect packages, I'm going to be putting up a three-part
     story detailing an ending to this Underfell universe with special
     guest stars Frisk, Flowey, and all the others you've come to know and
     fear. I'm thinking it might be called 'How They Fell', or something
     along those lines, so if you're interested, keep an eye out for it!
     Thank you for reading this and so much love for your comments and
     encouragements!
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