53. "Is that my food?! You ate my food?!"

Feat. Underfell bros

"WHERE IS MY LASAGNA?!"

A furious roar boomed through the house, causing Sans to stop chewing his mouthful abruptly and jump in fear. After a long day of checking on the traps set for any fallen humans - as if they would catch anything... - the smaller skeleton had become ravenous, and the lasagna in the fridge looked so delectable.

It didn't occur to him until just now that Papyrus was most definitely saving it for his own lunch.

"U-Uhh..." Sans stammered after swallowing his mouthful, as well as a thick lump stuck in his throat. "D-Dunno, Boss..."

Loud boots thumping louder and closer made Sans' bones grow hollow in dread. Before he was able to hide the casserole Papyrus slammed into his room, and the first think his sockets laid on was the lasagna.

And good God, did he look livid.

"Is that my food?! You ate my food?!" Papyrus exclaimed in fury. He approached Sans quickly and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, lifting him up and causing him to drop and spill the remaining lasagna. "Ohhh... You're in for it now, Sans..."

"W-Wait, wait, I can explain!" Sans stammered, desperately grabbing hold of his brother's wrists as he lightly kicked out his legs in the air. His own squeak interrupted his plea as he felt something pointy poke his ribs, and his squirming intensified. "N-No! Boss!"

"If I recall, you really don't like being tickled much, do you?" With an evil chuckle, Papyrus began skittering his pointed fingers across his brother's ribs and spine.

Sans squeaked and giggled hysterically as his struggling became more desperate. He tried swatting at Papyrus' hand, but whenever he let go of the hand holding onto his shirt he'd feel tight pressure around his neck. Thus, he ended up going back and forth between swinging his hand around and grasping onto the crimson wrist. "AHAHAHAHA! NO, PLEHEHEHEASE! I-I'M SOHOHOHORRY!"

"Cut a deal with me and I just might let you go," the taller skeleton growled with a deep, raspy chuckle. He slid his hand under Sans' shirt and scratched away at his ribs, traveling up and down the cage, and making his brother squeal.

"EHEHEHAHAHAHA! A-ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! AHAHAHA! I-I'LL GET GRIHIHILLBY TO MAKE ANOHOHOTHER BATCH FOR YA! STAHAHAHAP!"

"Try again, Sans. This is your problem to fix, not Grillby's." The torturous, wiggling fingers crept up Sans' ribs and scratched and traced under his arm.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THEHEHERE!" Sans wailed, pinning his arm to his side and struggling to hold on to Papyrus' wrist. At this point, tears were beading at his sockets as he cackled and kicked out his legs fruitlessly. "OKAY OKAY OKAY! AHAHAHA! I'LL MAKE ANOTHER BAHAHAHATCH! J-JUST PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!"

Papyrus narrowed his sockets for a few moments, then decided the offer was adequate. He stopped tickling and dropped his brother on the bed. "Alright, you have twenty-four hours to make me a new dish. And if it's not at least as good as what I make, then you'll be having to expect more tickling."

Sans gulped nervously and rubbed at his tingling ribs and underarm as his brother stormed out of his room.