Papyrus's shed didn't have heat, of course. Nor blankets, nor anything more accommodating than wooden beams and floor planks. Sleeping on tough surfaces wasn't a challenge (she'd taken perches in caves and trees before, as dragons were wont), but she really detested the cold—it was one more thing she wasn't going to miss about Snowdin.
She sat in a corner, rubbing warmth into her knees and elbows and wondering whether she'd be able to find her cloak again, after Grillby's coat rack was used for a makeshift lance (Papyrus looked almost knightly with it, if only the scene were less ridiculous than a skeleton in a bar brawl.) Between corralling cats, punching dogs and getting arrested by the town fish, it had been a long day, and right now her warm, worn cloak was sorely missed.
Dogamy, Doggo, Lesser Dog and Greater Dog made a miserable pile in the next corner. Dogamy was passed-out, tongue rolled out onto the floor and leaving a growing puddle of drool. Doggo had taken a slice of his shirt and wrapped it around his eyes for a bandage. He sat against a support beam and growled under his breath over the lack of "smokes and a phone call," whatever that meant in the context of imprisonment. Sans was using Lesser Dog's chain mail for a pillow, although it more looked like he had tripped backwards over the hung-over canine and decided not to get up again.
Papyrus oscillated between sulking and pacing, his rubber galoshes bound to carve a rut out of the floorboards. When not gazing longingly at the door (as if Undyne were going to change her mind and barge in at any moment, gushing with forgiveness), he was spending his jail time glaring at Sans. His scolding looks might've been effective if Sans were even watching him back, rather than laying insensate on the floor.
The younger brother's anger towards Sans was, of course, fully justified—yet if the succubus saw Malk again, she was going to let her knuckles have a good, hard talk with his face.
"I can't believe," she said, raising her voice to compete with Doggo's grousing. "That stupid, candy-headed douche-nozzle brought one of those mother-fucking cats into a bar filled with god damn ass-drunk dogs."
Greater Dog lolled his fat head in her direction and blinked, beady eyes not focused enough to look threatening. Doggo gave a snort of contempt.
If her comment didn't ameliorate Papyrus's foul mood, it at least shifted the blame. He quit staring daggers at Sans and tested the door again. The handle rattled, to no avail. "CURSES. IF I EVER GET OUT OF THIS SHED, I'M GOING TO PUT THE LOCK ON THE INSIDE, SO THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN AGAIN!"
With no comments on that proposal, the shed filled with more uneasy silence. She closed her senses and slipped into herself, striving for some form of sleep in this oversized doghouse, but her meditation was broken when Sans emitted a long, plaintive noise.
I was close to INNER PEACE, cocksucker, her mind railed back, and she joined Papyrus's team in the glare-a-thon. Gauging by the dim pangs across their link, Sans was nursing an aching belly and stinging ribs at the same time. He rolled onto his side, hugging himself. "ohhhhhhh man, running. fuck running. fuck everything to do with running. i'm never running again."
"SANS, LANGUAGE!"
Sans winced, but it was hard to tell whether he was struck by the rebuke or wallowing in his own suffering. "ow. fuck. nope. don't care." ...Well, that answered that.
Papyrus's teeth clacked into a deeper frown, but he didn't press further. She looked at Sans again and—Yeah, I wouldn't put a lot of stress on that human soul you stole, you freak, came unbidden into her head, acrid enough to make her recoil from her own thoughts.
Sans jerked forward, almost sitting up as his eye beads nailed her with another particular, inscrutable look. There was a burble of something really dark across their link, a cocktail of distress and anger, but then a second later it was snuffed under a blanket of drowsiness and dull pain. He grunted and dropped his head to the floor.
She didn't know why she even had that thought. She didn't particularly care how or why Sans got that mutilated thing passing off for his soul. Maybe he scavenged it from some human whom had fallen underground and bashed their head on the rocks. Maybe he straight-up slew a man for it (she had difficulty picturing this, since it required some level of effort.) Maybe it was self-defense, or maybe it was forced on him—maybe the shady man had something to do with it (which might explain the connection between the two.) She certainly had no reason to care about the fate of some pathetic human she never met.
It occurred to her that she might just be upset at the way he lied and concealed it more than anything. Well, she supposed he never technically lied, since she never technically asked, but... Hell, why take the time and care to warn her about her half-human soul after what he had done? Wasn't he a damn hypocrite? Monsters didn't make any sense.
'ow, there goes another one.' She was about to ask 'Another what?' but then held her tongue, ears catching the silence enveloping the room. Sans had only said that across their link, likely unintentionally. It was a little interesting and a little disturbing, how clearly their thoughts were transmitting, now. Still wondering what he meant, she drew her fingers across her breastbone, focused on the thrumming ache they shared and tried to imagine what caused it—the taste of coppery cyan in the dark, like their last night together, like ripping sutures out of a still-beating heart, like... oh.
That was exactly it.
She looked at one brother, and then the other, and realized something Sans had probably thought about a thousand times, while Papyrus never once. Papyrus is going to out-live him by a long shot... hundreds of years, even. Golems just went on and on, nigh-indefinitely, but that sketchy, delicate thing that Sans carried... There went another stitch, and she was left a little more hollow—she didn't like these shared feelings.
She decided to tune out their link from now on.
Papyrus started pacing again, gladly distracting her. At length he stopped, drew a breath long enough to inflate into a determined stance, and started hammering on the door with his fist. "CAPTAIN UNDYNE! PLEASE HEAR ME OUT! CAAAAAAPTAIN!"
The dog pile writhed and whined in unison, the skeleton's shrill tone torture to so many sensitive ears. "Christ," Doggo snarled, and she had half a mind to ask what kind of swear that was supposed to be, but the other half was getting a sickening headache.
"papyrus, please," Sans entreated. "what are you doing?"
"I HAVE TO SPEAK WITH CAPTAIN UNDYNE! SURELY SHE CAN BE REASONED WITH AFTER A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP, DON'T YOU THINK?"
"it's three a.m. nobody's had a good night's sleep, and undyne's probably at her house."
"OH." Papyrus only considered the latter. "DO YOU THINK IF I YELL LOUD ENOUGH, SHE'LL HEAR ME FROM HERE?"
Greater Dog and Dogamy yelped at the thought, and Doggo snapped, "No, you psychopath."
Sans waited a beat before saying, "...maybe, if the echo flowers catch it."
"Shut your fuck up," the succubus cut him down. "No more yelling, for shit's sake."
Papyrus wilted into the last empty corner, defeated. He looked at the succubus with an apologetic slant. "I'M SORRY TO SAY THIS, FORTUNE-TELLER, BUT I THINK YOU'RE GETTING COAL AGAIN THIS YEAR." He looked back at his brother and resumed glowering. "...I THINK WE ALL ARE, ACTUALLY."
"...sorry," Sans uttered, finally taking a shred of the blame.
Papyrus sighed harshly through his entire face. "YOU SHOULD BE. THIS HORRIBLE SITUATION IS ALL YOUR FAULT, BROTHER! THOSE POOR CATS, THESE POOR DOGS, THAT POOR BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENT..." His voice started wobbling, and—What the fuck, is this skeleton crying? "...M-MY ILLUSTRIOUS CAREER IN THE ROYAL GUARD, ALL SQUASHED BEFORE IT EVEN BEGAN! UNDYNE WILL NEVER LET ME JOIN NOW, FOR EVER AND EVER." He drew up his kneecaps and buried his face in his arms with a loud, disjointed sob.
She gawked at the emotional outburst, while Sans just looked astonished. After a minute of nothing but waterworks in Papyrus's corner, she tested a glance at the older brother and found only a muddled expression, aimed dead at the ceiling. He then sighed as well, closed his eyes and did what he did best: went to sleep.
"Tch," she scoffed. It actually wasn't a terrible idea. She relaxed and tried to meditate some more.
The next she blinked, it was dawn. At some point in her dozing, that little white runt of a dog had infiltrated the shed and settled in to gnaw on Sans's shin-bone. The rest of the dogs were moaning in their sleep, probably in the opening throes of hangovers.
She stood, stretched, and prodded her mark with her clawed toes. "Hey buttwipe, you're turning into a chew toy."
Sans's groggy voice drifted up to her. "hnn... do i still smell like cat?"
"Probably," she said. The entire shed smelled like over-ripe armor buried under a brewery and a metric ton of dog, so she wasn't about to discern a feline's musk through the rabble.
"cool." He didn't budge. The succubus shrugged and turned away, letting the mutt have its way with him.
She checked on Papyrus, but the way he stayed curled into his own corner discouraged prying. Never seen a full set of bones mope like that before, she thought. A follow-up thought almost birthed a spoken, 'stop being a huge pussy,' but a rogue memory painfully close to having a life's dream crushed in a single night held her back.
You'll never be a Peacekeeper, and he'll never be a royal guard. ...She left him alone.
That was the last quiet moment she got before the door to the shed flew open like buckshot, hitting the wall so hard that splinters shot from the hinges. Everyone—bones and plate-mail and all—clattered awake in time to witness Undyne standing in the threshold.
"Captain!"
"Captain...!"
"Cap!"
"Arf!" The dog squad barked into rank.
"Good morning, chumps!" she bellowed, her gnarled grin bearing down on the group a little too maliciously for morning cheer. "I hope you degenerates got some good sleep, because I sure did!"
Lesser Dog dragged his rump into the far corner and started retching.
Behind the succubus, Papyrus rose to feeble attention. "C-CAPTAIN UNDYNE, PLEASE, I CAN EXPLAIN ABOUT LAST NIGHT-"
"Shut up! I said I didn't want to hear it! I don't know, and I don't care! You know what's about to happen, though?" She leaned into the succubus's face and sneered, "The lot'a you are gonna work your butts off!"
"Work? I don't work for you people!" the succubus cried.
Undyne snorted out a laugh. "Hah, you do now! It's called community service, and not a single one'a you whelps are gonna rest until every fencepost, storefront and trash bin you messed up is fixed up and paid off!"
The succubus's face screwed up with the hardest, most outrageous objection she could muster, yet before the litany of swear words spilled out, Undyne stepped into Papyrus's personal space. "And Papyrus! Since your goddamn brother can't be trusted with a toothpick anymore, much less a hammer and nail, he's gonna stay under arrest until you-"
"i'll do it."
Everyone in the room shifted to look at Sans, who looked remarkably composed for someone with a small dog's jaws fixed to his ankle.
"Hmph." Undyne crossed her arms under a fang-filled smirk. "You volunteering? This a joke, funny man?"
Sans buried his hands in his pockets and met her molten yellow gaze. "nope. papyrus didn't bring those cats in, i did. he came to grillby's to stop me, but it was too late. i'll do whatever job you got lined up for him, if you'll take this off his record."
Papyrus's whole expression drew a blank. "SANS..."
Undyne cocked her head (her neck made an unnerving crackle) and sharpened a needling look at the stumpy skeleton. Then she shook with laughter. "Heh! Why the hell not? I'll buy this one!" She stooped to lour over Sans, which was enough to scare away the little white dog. It abandoned Sans's leg and skittered out the door. "If you start slackin', though, I'm gonna be all over your ass like white on rice, you feel me?"
"ok."
"And you're gonna set the Boarstons' picket fence nice and straight, like it was before!"
"ok."
"And it's gonna need a white-wash, too! That means white—none of those wacky damn colors Papyrus used on the last sign he painted!"
"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FESTI-"
"You're supposed to shut up!" she shut down Papyrus yet again.
"okay," Sans repeated, with sudden force that tempered the whole room. Their fishy warden met the dark, cross look framing his skeletal smile, and hesitated. The succubus didn't need to be reading any link to get the message: stop disrespecting my brother.
Undyne stood back, hands on her hips, and then... grinned. Her countenance lit up with a sort of proud mirth that would mystify the succubus forever. "Haha, right! That's perfect." She turned to Papyrus and clapped him on the shoulder. "Okay buddy, you're off the hook! Keep up the good job! The rest of you scrubs get to work. Heh!"
And then Undyne marched away into the cold morning.
"...that lady's one tough customer, huh?" Sans remarked.
"She's a bitch all right," the succubus said.
"takes one to know one, succubutt?"
"Fuckin' blow me, bonehead. Let's get out of this toilet."
"Don't need ta be told twice. Been holdin' it in all mornin'," Doggo grumbled as he shuffled his way towards the exit. Lesser and Greater Dog plodded after him, and then Dogamy, who paused to pass a quick, "Sorry 'bout that, pal," to Papyrus.
Papyrus watched the dogs leave before gathering enough of his wits to speak. "SANS, YOU... OFFERED TO WORK! FOR ME!"
Sans looked away with a rolling shrug. "eh. no big."
Papyrus's mien shifted from overjoyed to conflicted. "YOU DON'T EVEN OFFER TO WASH OUR DISHES!" A wispy smile cracked through. "BUT... YOU STOOD UP FOR ME, IN FRONT OF THE CAPTAIN!"
"don't make a big deal out o-aff!" Sans was scooped into a crushing hug. The succubus barely side-stepped in time to avoid it.
"I SUPPOSE IN LIGHT OF THIS, I, THE GREAT AND MAGNANIMOUS PAPYRUS, SHALL HAVE TO FORGIVE YOU, BROTHER! I HOPE YOU FEEL HONORED!"
"need air to breathe, bro," Sans croaked into his shoulder.
"OH, RIGHT." Papyrus put him down. "WELL, THAT'S SETTLED. LET US GO HOME, WHERE I WILL COOK HONORARY PANCAKES! YOU ARE ALLOWED TO HAVE SOME AS WELL, FORTUNE-TELLER."
"Fuckin' great," she said dryly, although she couldn't refuse some breakfast. Jail was rather tiring.
Just outside the shed was another surprise, and he snagged Sans by the collar the minute he set foot out the door.
"Oh, shit," the succubus hissed as she backed away from Grillby. A weird instinct set her bodily between the fire elemental and Papyrus, as if to shield the latter, though if she stopped to question herself it wouldn't make any sense (if anything, bones could retard flames much more handily than her bare skin and bikini.)
Sans, however, was left to fend for himself. He struggled like a caught trout and then shrugged haplessly, suspended two feet off the ground. "eheh, hey, old buddy, about those damages..."
Grillby, monster of few words that he was, didn't say anything. His sharp dress, void expression, steady flame and steely posture were at that moment—somehow—more terrifying than all of Undyne's thundering. He merely watched Sans sweat in his grip.
Several terse seconds passed, and once the succubus realized Sans was not planning to finish his sentence, she rolled her eyes and fished out the purse tied to her belt. "For fuck's sake...!" She dropped the purse into Grillby's open hand, not even bothering to count the coins. "Here you go. Just drop the poor bastard, already."
Grillby tilted a slight look at the purse, shifted its weight with his thumb, and then nodded. He gently set Sans on his feet and turned to the succubus. '...Thanks.' He strolled away.
"huh," Sans said, tossing her a queer look. "that was all your savings, wasn't it?"
She shrugged it off. "It's just fuckin' money. Can't take it with me, anyway."
"oh. well, thanks anyway." Sans huffed in relief and wiped his brow. "ho boy, that was intense. i ain't seen grillbz that pissed off since he sacked me."
"Sacked?" Her em-reading interpreted that in two very different, awkward directions.
"UGH, DON'T REMIND ME," Papyrus stepped up to explain. "SANS HAD A JOB AT THAT PUB, ONCE."
She raised an eyebrow, genuinely amused. "No shit? Doing what?"
"malk's job, basically. i was supposed to wait tables and translate for grillby." He finished that thought with a string of wistful chuckles.
Papyrus cut into his reverie. "IT WASN'T THAT FUNNY, SANS! YOU DIDN'T TAKE THAT JOB SERIOUSLY AT ALL!"
"well yeah, i only did it so i could slack off and get-"
Papyrus clapped his hands over his ears like someone bracing for a mortar to drop. "OH MY GOD, NO-"
"...fired!"
"UUUUUUGH, I'M GOING HOME!" Papyrus announced, and stomped the twenty feet down the road from the shed to his house.
"Never quit your day job," she said. "So are we gettin' food or what?"
"YES!" Papyrus threw back en route to the mailbox. "BUT BEFORE WE GO INSIDE, I HAVE TO CHECK THE MAIL! I MISSED IT YESTERDAY, AND IT COULD BE VERY IMPORTANT!"
"sure thing, bro."
The succubus leaned towards Sans to whisper, "Does he get actual mail?"
"he doesn't even get fake mail. there was once a mollask in there, though."
"What the hell?"
"yeah, paps was so happy. he finally got his first piece of snail mail."
The inflection and crude grin told her it was a joke, and that was all she needed to know. "...Christ," she tested her new swear word. She had another thought, and lowered a sly look. "Let's get real. Are you seriously going to fix and paint those people's fences?"
Sans snickered. "what do you think?"
She gave it only a moment's thought. "...I think you're going to pay Trent to do it."
"pay him? wow, that's an idea."
"Tch, scoundrel."
"I GOT ONE!"
The two blinked at Papyrus, duly surprised. "huh?"
Papyrus bounced back towards them, flapping a short envelope like a lame wing. "A MAIL! IT'S A PERFECT LETTER, RIGHT IN MY BOX, ONLY WORTHY OF BEING READ BY THE GREAT PAPYRUS! WHAT AN AMAZING DAY THIS HAS BEEN ALREADY!" He flipped the envelope over in his hands and read the front. "SEE, IT SAYS..." His eye sockets squeezed in consternation. "'SUCC...U-BUS'? THAT'S NOT HOW MY NAME IS SPELLED!"
"What the fuck?" she belted out, and grabbed the letter. "This is for me?"
"THAT'S NOT HOW YOU SPELL FORTUNE-TELLER, EITHER!"
"succubus is her name, bro."
"WHAT? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE EVER TELL ME?"
"i did...?" Sans offered fecklessly. "we went over that, like, the first night she was here?"
"OH. I SUPPOSE IT DIDN'T SOUND AS GLAMOROUS AS FORTUNE-TELLER, SO I DISCARDED THAT INFORMATION. YOU MUST ADMIT MY VERSION OF HER NAME IS MUCH COOLER!"
"sure is."
As they were quibbling, she ripped open the envelope and unfolded its contents. It contained two short lines of text on a plain sheet of paper. The letter was stripped of any other traits or personality—even the script was machine-typed.
"Uh," she said, remembering her innate problem with letters. "Somebody read this to me?"
Sans took it from her. He blinked once, flipped the paper around to inspect the back, and then said, "huh. no return address or name or signature or anything. just a message."
"Well what is it, dipshit?"
Sans looked up at her. His smile faded a notch. "report in. it's ready."
Papyrus reared back, bemused. "WHAT'S READY? IS IT BREAKFAST? I HAVEN'T EVEN COOKED YET..." He thumbed his chin, considering that, and then burst out, "THIS NOTE CAN READ THE FUTURE, TOO? FORTUNE-TELLER, YOU'RE REALLY GOOD!"