Her hair shone red now. In all his memories, her hair had been glistening brown curls that splayed out around her face. She once looked feral in her mud-stained dress and filthy hair. Her face would alight with a beautiful smile, even when she was missing her front teeth. He supposed time had to change her in some ways. She wore the kind of dresses now that she had spurned when they played. It fit her well, holding her in just the right places while letting his mind wonder about the matured body it hid. What was once curly and frizzy now sat straight and obedient in a tight bun. Her long thin fingers tapped a desk and her tilted head took the look of a berating school teacher. She wanted to be one, he remembered. She would sit him at a stump and lecture him about the world as best as a six-year-old knew. The little school building seemed full of spirit even if only a few children sat in the hall. It was her power. She took any simple place and made it so much more.

One of the children, a little boy with dirt stains in his clothes and freckles on his face, spotted him through the window. His hand shot into the air, fingers flailing and body wriggling. She floated across the floor and, upon reaching the boy, leaned in to listen. He spoke quick and pointed at the stranger in the window. She stole no glance, did not turn, instead she ruffled the blonde hair of the boy and smiled. That pure look on her face tugged at his heart. Oh, little friend, his heart cried, I've missed you.

~.~

School ended in the early afternoon. The little children filtered out of the building, each calling back "Bye Ms. Dreemur!"

She smiled and waved to her children. Though she only got to see them for a few hours a day, she loved each one. No time to waste, she thought, setting her class back in order. The board needed to be clean, the desks purged of ink as well as she could, and papers collected. Her little ones were certainly not cleanly.

The door to the school creaked open. "Penelope, did you forget your book again?" She asked, a smile blooming across her face. There was a bear, a moment, where nothing but silence hung in the air. "It's rude not to answer," she prompted. When only more silence answered her, she huffed. She turned around, back straight and stiff, lips set in a frown.

The man standing in the doorway was thin, almost inhumanly so. He slouched to avoid hitting his head on the frame. White hairs glistened off his head, but his face showed no sign of the silvered age. He was young, and she would dare to call him handsome enough. Some fine white shirt and grey trousers were his clothes, though a well-made wool coat covered his shoulders and leather shoes on his feet. He wrung a flimsy hat in his hands, his eyes flicking between her and everything else in the room. "Pardon my intrusion, ma'am, " the man said in a hoarse voice. He proceeded to mumble for a moment, low enough that she could not tell what he said but she could tell he was speaking. "Y-you are Chara Dreemur, aren't you ma'am?" He took a single step forward, allowing him to stand straight. He was much taller than her, towering over her quite like a monster.

Yet in him, she saw something familiar. She remembered two boys, one tall and lanky, the other short and fat, standing in her mother's garden. Boys with black sclerae and red irises. This man kept his face more in the shadows, making it hard to see his eyes. "Papyrus?" She asked, taking a step closer to the man. He shrunk back, ducking his head. A bright smile crossed Chara's face as she caught sight of those black and red eyes. She wrapped her arms around his tense body. There was some muscle there, she could feel it. He only looked bone thin. Just like when they were kids. She could remember sitting beside him in Mama's favorite buttercup field. He brought her books, she read with him, and they would argue about the author's intent. Such a strange but simple childhood. Sans and Frisk would run around the garden while she taught Papyrus how to draw. He did okay before, it was obvious that his father wanted his sons to sketch, but he always took the analytical side. Drawing exact images because "what's the point of exaggerating?"

Papyrus froze at her touch and stiffly shifted his arms into a facsimile of a hug. His soul thumped against his ribs. "It's...it's nice to see you too, Chara," he managed to say. She pressed her face into his wool coat. It was scratchy, but Papyrus never seemed to mind. Neither did Chara. She only let him go when she heard boots crushing gravel.

She sighed. It must be three o'clock, she thought as she looked around her childhood friend.

Jerry Ruens (he insisted his name was pronounced runs not ruins, but no one cared) had the reputation of being the vilest person in Noueville. He stank of sweat no matter the time of day, and his hands were always moist to the touch. Which he loved. He would run his hand over merchandise and produce, leaving everything with the faint smell of refuse. It could not be helped. His profession of sifting through trash allowed him to find "treasures" that were easy sells to unwitting folk outside their quaint town. It had made him wealthy Noueville, though not popular. To Chara's dismay, he set his beady eyes on her after her elder brother Kris left for the war front.

Now, like every day, he came up the path strutting like a peacock wearing his suit coat and shiny shoes. The smell alone could have warned her. He smiled at her, revealing tobacco stained and cracked teeth. "Goooood afternoon, Miss Chara!" He waved a hand. The smell intensified. Papyrus made no attempt to use his disdain, covering his nose and hacking into the collar of his coat. "I see the children are gone. I've always said you had a gift with them. It's a real shame," he eyed her dress, more specifically where her bodice met her skirt, "you have none of your own yet." Chara held in a shudder. Jerry licked his lip before looking at Papyrus and pausing. He looked the thin man up and down before saying, "Who's the beanpole?"

Something flashed in Papyrus's eyes. It happened so quickly that Chara thought she might have imagined it. after all, there was nothing that could have caused his eyes to turn orange. He did not offer his hand, his smile, or his friendly voice. Only his name and a sneer. "Dr. Papyrus Snowdin. And you are?"

"Jerry Ruens, the pleasure is yours," the ingrate took no notice of his rival's cool demeanor, instead choosing to jabber on, "Doctor, huh? Wasted your life if you ask me. Why I must be the richest man in town and I ain't no doctor. No sir, just a genius, " he tapped his head while winking at Chara who let a small amount of cringe out. "No sir no sir, never had an education and never gonna need one. Just gotta find people dumber than me."

"A true struggle, I'm sure," Papyrus interjected, quiet enough that Jerry did not hear him but Chara certainly did. She snickered, which Jerry acknowledged as his own greatness. The smelly creature took a breath to continue speaking, and Papyrus jumped at the chance. "Ms. Dreemur, I've been meaning to ask if you're available for a checkup this week. Your sister too, if she's available. I know Sans would be happy to see her. Do you remember the old manor?"

Jerry's face twisted into a scowl. "Now wait just a minute, Doc-"

Chara smiled as she sighed. "Yes, oh it was gorgeous! With the pines around the yard."

"Hey, what am I, chop-"

"I purchased it a few days ago. A little office in town, too. You can come to either, just call my secretary and let her know where you'll be."

"Slow down pal-"

"What if Frisk and I came for dinner? Say, tomorrow?"

Papyrus smiled. "Absolutely. Sans would be -"

"That's perfect!" Jerry said, stepping between the pair. "So, you'll be free tonight? Muffet's got an open table for the two of us." He reached out to touch her hand. She quickly occupied it behind her back fiddling with a line of ribbon that had unexplainably become uncomfortable.

She almost screamed when Papyrus touched his shoulder. Jerry drew back quickly and moved away from the doctor, rubbing his sweaty hand against the spot. "I've been meaning to ask, Mr. Ruens, when was your last medical exam?" Something had changed in his demeanor. Papyrus had a warm, welcoming smile across his gaunt face and his black-red eyes glinted in the sunlight. "I'd be happy to see the most important man in town at my office. Why don't we walk over?" He faced Chara once more and gave a deep bow. Red covered her cheeks as the memory of a young boy bowing and saying until we meet again, fair princess filled her mind. She curtsied, spreading her skirt as best as she could and stifling a giggle. As the two set off down the trail, Jerry walking a considerable length ahead of Papyrus, Chara turned back to the schoolroom and set about organizing it once more. She found it harder to focus this time, with Papyrus's smile drifting in and out of her thoughts.

~.~

He heard the rumors the next day. People talked about it in his waiting room, asked him about it in examination, stopped him in the street to ask if he knew the vilest man in town had left. They said, "Jerry moved, found a different town to disgust."

"Good riddance!" The townsfolk cried. "Maybe his stench will wear away soon."

Papyrus listened to each person, engaged in their questions if he could, but he had more important things to do. The local grocer lacked the exact ingredients he wanted, but he could make do. A box of spaghetti, fresh tomatoes and carrots, some onion, garlic and other spices, and a loaf of freshly baked bread. Sans had promised to make the bread, but Papyrus knew his brother. He bought the bread anyway.

As he walked home, the people of Noueville called out "Good afternoon, Dr. Snowdin!" "How do you do, Dr. Snowdin?" "A fine day to you, Dr. Snowdin." The name was still strange to him, but he adapted quickly to hearing Snowdin over Gaster. The fact that Chara had not corrected him the day before surprised him. Was ten years long enough to forget that name? He shrugged, adjusting his grip on the bags. If it distanced him from the animal that was Dr. W. D. Gaster, then it was worth it.

Gaster Manor, or Snowdin Manor now, was the last house on Under Trail before the woods swallowed it up. The roof over the west wing needed repairing, and the windows desperately needed replacing. But it seemed that Sans had been hard at work. The drab and dusty curtains had been replaced with bright blue ones and the outside had a fresh white coat of paint. Bushes that had once been overgrown now sat in nicely trimmed rows, some being cut into various monstrosities.

The front room also had undergone a transformation. Not one Papyrus approved of at all. What was once a human body laid mangled on the floor, deep rich red staining the carpet around it. The walls bore blood splatter in wicked glee. He could almost hear the laughter of his brother and the screams of the victim. A faint smell of rubbish lingered in the air.

"SANS."

Papyrus cringed at his own yelling. Yelling is distasteful, Papyrus. Do keep that in mind. Even dead, the good doctor had the nerve to chatter in his ear.

Sans popped into the room, his skull shaking, and a wide grin plastered to his mandible. "OH MY GOSH, PAPYRUS! I WASN'T EXPECTING YOU HOME SO SOON! ARE THEY HERE?! ARETHEYHEREARETHEYHEREARETHEYARETHEY!?" His body rattled with every excited tremor.

Papyrus felt his magic falter and groaned. "If they were, they'd be screaming at the sight of you, brother. Do fix that." He walked past his now still brother, placing the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. He retrieved a pot and filled it with water. It was set and boiling when Sans crept into the kitchen. Papyrus inspected the skin that had grown over his baby brother and found it satisfactory. Sans's disguise matched Papyrus in tone, light skin and white hair with the strange eyes, though the littler brother had a more boyish charm to his chubbier cheeks and wider eyes. He stood almost as tall as Papyrus, with a broader chest and thicker arms. He appeared more a common worker where the elder brother took pride in his more dignified form. Still, he had been wearing his soul out all day. Chara and Frisk would be coming soon, he could not risk his magic failing with them in the house. His soul collected the magic and allowed Papyrus's bones to feel the cool air of the manor. Sans shivered and switched back, leaving two skeletons in the kitchen.

Sans eyed the doorway where the entry laid. "I CLEANED UP, BRO. NO ONE WOULD KNOW ANYTHING HAPPENED."

"How did he escape in the first place?"

"IT WASN'T MY FAULT."

"It never is." Papyrus meant that. He put his hand on his brother's shoulder and looked into his sockets. The warm orange glow of his own encouraged Sans to ignite his brilliant blue glow. "Don't worry, I'll figure out a better way to secure your friends." Turning from his brother, Papyrus poured the pasta into the pot. "The house looks good, bro. Nicely done."

Sans laughed and clapped his hands. "BUT OF COURSE, THE MAGNIFICIENT SANS IS ONLY THE FINEST DECORATOR IN THE WHOLE WORLD! MWEHEHE!"

"Go set the table. They'll be here soon."

And when you get here, my lovely Chara, you'll have a dinner you'll never forget.

Okay, like my description says, this is a gift to one of my favorite creators on Tumblr (and since it's dying I wanted to give this to them ASAP) Semisolidmind. A big supporter of Frans and Papara, their art is one of my favorite things to see. And so I thought I'd show them what they encouraged.

I love you all, take it easy, and peace