It was a quiet and cool Saturday in October, and for once Mettaton wasn't spending the day with Devon. Instead, he was at the apartment of Mrs. Hawke, who was fussing over him as usual, offering lunch and cookies and chattering incessantly about her adult children.
Many people might have been put off by her mannerisms, but Mettaton had never been one to judge; he'd always thought that "stranger" people were more interesting to talk to. Besides, he had rarely met anyone as openly good-natured and kind as her (in the back of his mind, he thought only Papyrus could match up to her).
Most often, Mrs. Hawke compared Mettaton to her daughter, Natalie. The old woman was quite forgetful—Mettaton heard the same things over and over again, such as how he and Natalie had the same hair and eyes and the same kind of job, but he rarely minded. After all, he was virtually the only neighbor who'd let her carry on this way, and clearly she needed it.
Mettaton had just sat through another monologue and was about to ask for another cookie when Mrs. Hawke asked him, "So, dearie, how's your boyfriend doing? David, was that his name?"
"Devon," Mettaton corrected her patiently. "He's doing wonderfully. He's just about finished shooting another season of his soap opera and he's very excited to watch it with me."
"That's nice, dear. How's he treating you now? I do hope he's been good."
"Oh, yes, of course! He's so sweet, he buys me anything I want, and we go on lovely dates all the time… and he's always blowing up my phone with texts asking what I'm doing and telling me he loves me." Mettaton let out a giggle. "He's quite the romantic."
"I'm sure, love, I'm glad to hear it, but…" Mrs. Hawke looked up from the sandwich she was eating and gazed at him, far more serious than usual. "I meant, is he meeting your needs? A man can give you everything you want, but if he isn't giving you what you need, well, what kind of relationship is that?"
"Oh… well…" Mettaton struggled for words. "I mean… I don't need much, really. I think all I've ever really wanted in life is to be loved. And Devon certainly shows me he does."
"Hmm." Mrs. Hawke pursed her lips skeptically, but she didn't press the issue. "Well, as long as you're happy."
"I'm very happy, thank you."
"That's good to hear. Now—" Mrs. Hawke finished the last bite of her sandwich and began to clear away dishes. "You don't think he'd ever want to come around here, do you? I'd love to meet another actor. My daughter barely tells me anything about what it's like." She squinted at Mettaton. "Neither do you, come to think of it."
"Well, it's not like I've been doing much since I got back from the tour. And even before the tour I only guest-starred in Devon's show." Mettaton shrugged. "Believe me, I wish I was doing more."
Mrs. Hawke patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll get to soon."
The woman wasn't wrong, Mettaton knew; it was finally October and he was waiting with bated breath for the agency to call him back into work. While he hadn't quite hated every minute of not working, a good chunk of the time had been nearly unbearable, and to say he was only looking forward to filming and distracting himself again was an understatement.
Mrs. Hawke put the dishes in the sink and turned on the water. Almost immediately, Mettaton was at her side, helping her rinse them off and placing them in the dishwasher the way he did at home.
"Now, dearie, you're the guest, you let me—" Mrs. Hawke began to scold him.
"Nonsense. I'm helping."
The dish towel Mrs. Hawke was flicking at him was no match for his stubbornness, so the old woman quickly gave up trying to deter him. "Well… thank you, then, love. I ought to be grateful to have someone like you living so nearby."
This kind of praise—praise for something other than his acting, singing, or dancing, that is—always made Mettaton a little red in the face, a little warm and fuzzy in the heart. "It's nothing, really," he managed, adjusting a glass in the top rack of the dishwasher. "Any decent person would do it."
"Even a little kindness in a world like this is a wonderful thing, Mettaton. And you are more kind than many."
"I know plenty of people who wouldn't say that," Mettaton scoffed, thinking mostly of Undyne… though he wasn't sure that even Alphys or Blooky would call him a kind person, and Devon… "Devon was saying just the other day that I'm too high maintenance for my own good. High maintenance people can't be kind." Can they? he thought.
Mettaton couldn't see Mrs. Hawke's deep frown, but he clearly heard the disapproval in her next words. "Your own boyfriend told you you're high maintenance? That doesn't sound very loving to me."
The robot quickly backtracked. "Well—he only said that because I wanted this cat at that café downtown, but it's disabled, and he said it would be too hard to take care of, and he couldn't help me take care of it because he had to take care of me. He wasn't trying to be mean at all. He's just—very honest, is all."
"One can be honest and still be kind, Mettaton. I wonder…" Mrs. Hawke trailed off, seemingly lost in her own thoughts for a moment. "Well, I'll trust your judgment. But don't be blinded by your adoration of Devon. I'm sure he's a nice man, but he's just as capable of making mistakes as anyone else."
"Oh, yeah, definitely."
Of course Mrs. Hawke's choice of words brought back the memory of the incident. A chill settled over Mettaton, and for a moment he struggled to maintain his composure.
Once he was sure he could do so, he stood abruptly. "Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Hawke, but I have to go now."
"Oh! Yes, of course, dear." The elderly woman didn't seem fazed by Mettaton's sudden need for departure. "Here, take some cookies home with you for Alice and—and, er—what's the other one's name?"
"Napstablook. And it's Alphys." Mettaton took the cookies and fought the urge to sigh; they still hadn't finished all the cookies Mrs. Hawke had sent them last time.
Mettaton said his goodbyes and went home, feeling rather full physically. Emotionally, however—he could still feel the strange emptiness that overcame him whenever he was reminded of the incident. For an instant, his faith in Devon was shaken. Mrs. Hawke was right; the man was capable of mistakes—that Mettaton knew for sure. What he wasn't sure about was whether Devon would make the same mistake again.
But—the man had promised him, hadn't he? Promised it wouldn't happen again. Of course, promises could be broken—but that was something Mettaton was prone to doing, and Devon, as responsible and caring as he was, must be better than him.
Mrs. Hawke meant well, Mettaton decided, but she just didn't understand his relationship with Devon. I'll just have to change that, he thought to himself. And he knew just how he was going to do it.
Later that evening, Mettaton called Mrs. Hawke and asked her when it would be a good day to have both himself and Devon over. The woman became quite excited and said that they could come for supper in two days, then began listing the things she would need to get for the meal. Mettaton tried to tell her he could something over, but she wouldn't hear of it. Finally, after about twenty minutes, Mrs. Hawke said goodbye, and Mettaton was able to hang up.
Now for the truly hard part. Mettaton had to phone Devon and tell him of these new plans.
As expected, Devon protested at first. "I was going to go over to the casino with the guys that night! Why didn't you check with me before going and making plans like that? You know I don't like that."
"She's a lovely person, Dev. And she cooks really well! Come on, just this once?" begged Mettaton.
Devon caved eventually. "Fine. But it better be worth my while."
Mettaton promised it would be.
Two days later, Mettaton and Devon were waiting in front of Mrs. Hawke's door. Mettaton was a little nervous about how Devon would behave, but he seemed in a fairly decent mood. Mettaton breathed a tiny sigh of relief when Mrs. Hawke opened the door and Devon put on his winning smile.
"Welcome, welcome! So nice to meet Mettaton's partner." Mrs. Hawke shook Devon's hand fervently, much to the man's surprise. "He's looked much happier since he began dating you, it's so nice to see him smile."
If there was any uncertainty in Devon's mind, it immediately disappeared, and his usual swagger returned. "Yes, well, I am rather good at getting smiles out of people. Especially him." With that, he caught Mettaton around the waist and dipped him low, planting kisses all over his cheek and neck.
"Dev, stop! We have company!" Mettaton laughed, trying and failing to push Devon back.
But Devon kept at it until Mrs. Hawke cleared her throat, a smile plastered across her face. Devon and Mettaton straightened, both a little red in the face, though for different reasons; Devon wasn't ashamed of the display in the slightest.
"I've almost got dinner ready, I just need to take one of the dishes off the stove." Mrs. Hawke beamed at them. "You two go ahead and sit down."
Mettaton did not sit down immediately, however, following his neighbor into the kitchen to make sure he couldn't help with anything.
Mrs. Hawke had prepared a more elaborate dinner than Mettaton had expected. When he smelled fresh risotto cooking on the stove, his mouth dropped open in surprise. From what he understood, risotto was a rather difficult dish to make at home, as it had to be constantly watched to ensure it would get the right consistency. But it certainly looked as though the old woman had succeeded. Gazing into the dish, Mettaton could pick out bits of zucchini, squash, asparagus, snap peas, and lemon slices mixed with rice and vegetable broth. He glanced at the cookbook next to the stove and saw the name of the dish: "Summer Lemon-Vegetable Risotto." The picture in the book looked delicious, and the real thing even more so. Mettaton couldn't wait to try it.
For a second he thought that was all they were going to eat; then he went out to the dining table and noticed it was set with crispy chicken thighs, creamy white beans, a spinach apple salad, steamed broccoli, and garlic bread. My god, she really went all out, Mettaton thought. He didn't know how three people were supposed to eat all that between them. Then again, he was feeling a bit famished…
Mrs. Hawke set the risotto on the table and took her place. "I hope you all don't mind if I say grace first?"
Devon, who had started reaching for something, pulled his hand back and bowed his head, his expression unreadable.
Mrs. Hawke's grace was short but sweet. "Dear Lord, thank you for the opportunity to have Mettaton and his boyfriend Devon over for supper and for the chance to get to know each other. Please bless this food we are about to eat, and may we all sleep well tonight when we return home. Amen."
Mettaton murmured an "amen" after Mrs. Hawke ended her prayer, but Devon said nothing; he simply reached for the food again.
The meal was just as delicious as Mettaton expected. It was so good, in fact, that he had seconds.
While they ate, Mrs. Hawke asked Devon how work was, and the man proceeded to talk about himself for almost twenty minutes, pausing only a few seconds between sentences to take bites of food.
Eventually Mrs. Hawke managed to get another question in. "What did you and Mettaton do today, Daniel? Mettaton's made it sound as though you spend a lot of time together."
"It's Devon, and we do. Almost every waking moment. I can't stand to be without him." Devon leaned an elbow on the table and brushed Mettaton's bangs back with his other hand. "It's unfortunate I couldn't convince the studio to let him back in to work earlier. Then we'd really be together all the time. Oh, well, any day now."
"Acting work sounds fascinating. You know, my daughter Natalie—"
"Oh, it is fascinating. I've had lots of interviews talking about how I came from nothing and rose to the top of it all," Devon continued. "Well—not nothing, I guess. I was born into a pretty rich family. Went to private school, had to compete with a lot of guys for the top spots in theater. It wasn't easy. A lot of those guys had real skills. Not as good as me at the end of the day, though. But yeah. Fascinating. Sorry, you were saying something?"
"Ah—yes. My daughter Natalie is an actress over in Australia. She's quite popular over there—"
"What's her full name?"
"Natalie Hawke. She's married but still uses her maiden name for the stage."
"Never heard of her." Devon shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't hear much about anyone who isn't world-famous. Rather a shame. For a lot of people, their talent just isn't recognized." He stretched back in his chair. "Lucky for me, mine is. And lucky for Mettaton, too," he added. "He'd never have gotten world-famous if it weren't for me. Well, maybe he would have, but it would've taken a lot longer."
"Oh, really, Mettaton? Is that true?" Mrs. Hawke turned her attention to the robot.
"Well—yes, I think so," Mettaton admitted. "He managed to get me a part on his show when no one else would hire me. The episode I appeared in got a lot more ratings than usual, and the whole show's gotten even more popular since then. They suspect it was because of me."
"I've been trying to get him a permanent role in the show," Devon butted in. "My show, that is. Acting and spending time with Mettaton would be a real dream come true."
"Oh, I didn't know that…" Mettaton turned to Devon. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'll have time… I've got my own show to worry about."
"You can be in more than one thing at once," Devon waved him off. "Besides, you like working, don't you? It'll be perfect for you."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Well, just don't go overworking yourself again, love," Mrs. Hawke said. "Isn't that the reason they stopped you from working in the first place?"
"Yeah," Mettaton sighed. "But I'm not going to let Alphys pull that sh—crap again."
Devon nodded. "That was really out of line. But, hey." He shrugged. "It means we've spent a lot more time together."
"Yeah." Mettaton smiled. Then he reached for a third portion of some of the food on the table.
Devon stopped him. "Come on, you're gonna make yourself sick," he said. "Besides, you should watch your weight," he added quietly so Mrs. Hawke couldn't quite catch it.
Mettaton gave Devon a strange look, but decided to confront him about the remark later, as he didn't want to start a squabble in front of their host. To placate his boyfriend, he didn't take any more food, though he looked longingly at what was left of the risotto.
Mrs. Hawke noticed and scooped some onto his plate. "Have as much as you want, dearie. It'll take me weeks to finish these leftovers at this rate."
Mettaton happily dug into the risotto while Devon looked away disapprovingly.
"Now who wants dessert?" Mrs. Hawke got up from the table and went to the refrigerator. "I made peanut butter pie and a fresh batch of cookies. Though I sadly burned the cookies a bit this time… the risotto was taking up quite a bit of my attention."
"That's alright. I'll just have a small slice of the pie and one cookie, please," Mettaton said.
Mrs. Hawke served him and looked over at Devon. "David?"
"Devon, and yeah, I'll have a piece. No cookies for me."
Mrs. Hawke gave him some pie and served herself as well. Mettaton took a bite of his slice, and his eyes widened. He had never considered himself a big fan of peanut butter, but the whipped filling in the pie was phenomenal. So phenomenal, in fact, that he asked for another piece.
Mrs. Hawke chuckled as she cut him one. "You can really pack it away, can't you?"
"Sorry, I just—everything's been so good tonight, I can't get enough of it! You should be on a cooking show!" Mettaton smiled. "I had a cooking show in the Underground. If only you'd been there… I think we could have made great things together."
"No reason we can't now, dearie." Mrs. Hawke beamed.
Devon watched Mettaton eat his second slice of pie. "I think we'd better get going," he said the second the robot finished it. "You gonna sleep over at my place tonight?"
"Oh, why not?" Mettaton shrugged. "Sounds good to me."
"Good." Devon smiled. He stood. "Well, thanks for the meal… uh, Mrs.…?"
"Hawke. Belinda Hawke." Mrs. Hawke came over to Devon's side of the table and shook his hand like she had earlier. "So nice to be able to talk to you."
"Now wait just a minute, we should help clean up—" Mettaton began.
"I got a thing tonight, Tonnie. I just don't have the time." Devon took Mettaton's arm and helped him stand. "Unless you don't want to stay over, we both should go now."
"It's alright, honey, it won't take me long to put everything away," Mrs. Hawke assured Mettaton as he opened his mouth to protest. "You go on, now. Don't let me make you be late."
"Thanks. I guess we'll be seeing you around." Devon gave a nod, and in a few minutes they were down in the parking lot.
"So what's your 'thing' tonight? You didn't say anything about it to me earlier," Mettaton asked as Devon pulled out of the lot, still put out from leaving without helping Mrs. Hawke.
"Casino. The guys promised they'd wait for me, but not for long."
"The casino? That's it?" Mettaton was incredulous. He looked back at the apartment complex, disappearing into the distance. "We could have helped! It only would have taken a few minutes."
Devon shrugged. "Sorry."
"And what was that comment about me watching my weight? I'm a robot. I can't gain weight—or lose it, for that matter. My body doesn't work that way."
"Come on, Tonnie. Eating that much isn't good for anyone. I've seen the way you've been eating lately. You're just gonna get sick."
First he wasn't eating enough, now he was eating too much. "I'm capable of watching my own health, you know," Mettaton grumbled.
"Are you, though?" Devon countered. "I mean, you were almost working yourself to death just a few months ago."
"Whatever."
Devon was quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry, Tonnie," he said eventually. "You know I just worry about you."
Mettaton sighed and patted Devon's hand on the wheel. "I know, Dev. Sorry for being difficult."
"It's okay. You're always forgiven."
Ω
Back at her apartment, Mrs. Hawke felt troubled.
From the moment the man had stepped into the room, she'd felt like Devon Hart wasn't at all the man Mettaton said he was. The boasting, the very public display of perfection that Mettaton hadn't entirely consented to, the way he just went on and on about himself without letting anyone else get a word in edgewise, and the way he'd left, actively protesting Mettaton's desire to help her—all of it was giving her a bad feeling.
Devon Hart reminded her very much of someone she'd dated long ago. Someone who'd started out just like that—bragging, full of himself, but still seemingly a loving man.
Someone who'd gone on to do the unspeakable.
She didn't want to jump to conclusions, though. Devon may well have been arrogant and selfish, and perhaps not the best match for Mettaton, but there was no proof he was an abuser. None yet, anyway.
She just wished there were an easier way to get Mettaton to realize that Devon wasn't worth it. Unfortunately, some people had to learn the hard way.
As Mrs. Hawke put the last of the food away and began to work on the dishes, she prayed that Mettaton would never suffer like she had.
oooooooooo
FINALLY I've finished this chapter. it's been sitting about since November because I had no idea where I wanted to go with it, but I finally had some ideas.
I do hope Mrs. Hawke has been endearing enough. I know I love her.
please leave comments! I eat them up!
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