Author Notes: Undertale is quickly destroying my life. I'm trash. This is trash. Enjoy it.
Extra Note: I didn't think about this idea until yesterday and there's going to be six chapters so there's no way i'll have it done by Christmas. I'll be uploading a chapter every day and should be done a few days after christmas.
Warning: None that i can think of.
Disclaimer: This wonderful cast of colorful characters belongs to the Undertale series. I own nothing.
Chapter 1: December 7
Mettaton always prided himself on being the best. He was the best singer, the best dancer, he'd be cold and malfunctioning before he let anyone be the best dressed in the room.
So when it came to holidays, the tradition didn't change. He was the best host and the best guest (even if people said otherwise) But what he prided himself the most on was being the best decorator. Most holidays were fun but Christmas was the best. He'd been holding Christmas parties since the year all monsters had finally reached the surface and every year the party got bigger.
It took a lot of planning and labor but it was worth it to be the best house on the block. This year was no different. It was only December 7 and his house was already tinseled and lit.
The warm light of the porch enveloped him as he sat in his chair snuggled in a thick blanket. With a nice cup of hot chocolate in hand, he started up at the milky sky. It was this time of year that reminded him of the underground. He'd never been the biggest fan of Snowdin but home was home. Around him the snow fell in thick puffy flakes collecting inch by inch. He frowned at the heavy snowfall. He'd have to shovel again in the morning.
The warm light of his home spilled out into the street before the overwhelming darkness swallowed it again. His neighbors were going to have a fit. They hated when he decorated but it didn't bother him. You could see his house from a block away with all the lights on it but then again when you're a star you have to outshine the competition. They were just made they were old and couldn't decorate anymore. The neightborhood committee had calling his house all kinds of things. "gaudy", "unnessessary", "A fire harzard." But that didn't stop him. They could all burn in the fire his house would probably cause.
In the soft glow of his house, he looked across the street. Even in all the snow falling in sheets around him, he caught the faint image of something on his neighrbor's lawn. A man sat in the middle of the snowfall playing with something. Small flickers of light bounced off the thing in his hands. Mettaton listened to the soft grunts and curses of failure as the man struggled. Leaning back in his chair, Mettaton took a sip of his hot chocolate. He knew that sound anywhere. The man was unstringing Christmas lights. He must be new. No one else on the block decorated for any holidays. Come to think of it, he remembered seeing a moving truck a little while ago. If he remembered correctly his neightbors were monsters. He'd never seen them before which was weird. The underground wasn't the biggest place. Most people knew everyone else.
Mettaton jumped as a scream of success shattered the silence around him. Hot chocolate splashed his chest frame. He cursed looking across the street. The monster was stringing the last of the lights giggling the entire time.
Seconds later, the house lit up. Mettaton dropped his cup. Not only was the house across from his lit but also it was lit better. They even had an inflatable snowman in their yard. It should have looked tacky but with the cute little decorations on the windows and doors it fit perfectly.
The monster across the street, a tall skeleton wearing a thick red scarf, did a little jig as he admired his handy work. The skeleton turned his way and they looked at each other. He waved a hand. "HI, NEIGHBOR." He screamed before running inside laughing.
Mettaton took a long second to stare at the other house. Anger boiled inside him. They came into his neighborhood and disrespected him like that. He was the star, not them. He had the best house, not them. Okay, them, but his house had to be better. Composing himself, Mettaton picked up his cup. The handle was chipped and he rubbed at the crack as he mumbled profanities. 'Hi Neighbor.' Mettaton thought. Those were fighting words. Stomping back inside his house, he drew his curtains to hid the light from across the street (And his shame). He looked around his house for more christmas lights. He needed bigger, bolder, something that shot lasers. He would not lose this battle.