Mutual pining at midnight you say? Why yes of course!


You always brought back at least one item for self care purposes on your shopping trips. It was important to you to take breaks and enjoy little things, especially when the silence grew overwhelming. Living alone was nice, usually. But every so often you needed a treat.

This week you had brought back a bath bomb and some wine, along with your flower seeds, basic necessities and a treat for someone special. It was a universally acknowledged fact that your lovely friend Papyrus loved to cook, but not so well known that his favourite food, of all things, was dinosaur oatmeal. The little packages to candy eggs and oats weren't anywhere to be found in the stores in your home town, so a special trip was needed if you were to acquire it. You'd seen it and thought of him, and so now it was sitting in your pantry awaiting your next market trip.

You were trying not to think too much about the boys, honestly. It was hard, when you were just the slightest bit lonely in your little farmhouse and your mind wanted to go back to the gorgeous skeletons you had been crushing on for ages. It was time for some indulgence to take your mind off them.

One lovely hot bath and a glass of rosé was the order of the day, and you relaxed with a book as the room steamed up. You were reading Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time, but the old-timey romance and the vision of Colin Firth in a billowing shirt eventually had you thinking about polite, good-mannered skeletons again. Imagine Papyrus in that shirt, or even Sans, though it would look funny on him... or both of them, falling into a perfectly-placed body of water and emerging with the fabric clinging to their bones... wow, this really was not helping you. The scene wasn't even in the book. You had really been alone for far too long, hadn't you...

When you'd finished your wine, you were a warm, wrinkled prune and the water was cool, you got out and dried off, finding it to be about midnight. Throwing on fresh PJs and wrapping your favourite fluffy robe around you, you wander into the kitchen and switch on the radio, fiddling a moment to find a station that plays slow, old music that suits your melancholy, slightly flustered mood. For a moment, you wished a bony hand would take yours and twirl you around as soft notes echo through your kitchen.

Your eyes close as you start to sway, the tantalising vision of slow-dancing in the kitchen in the arms of someone you love while old romantic jazz songs play softly on the radio making your heart swell with longing. Would you spin into a broad chest, strong arms wrapping you up and holding you close... or wrap your arms around some shoulders that are only slightly lower than yours, resting your forehead against smooth bone... both idea were equally delightful. You were left with a mortified blush as you straightened up, grabbing some milk and chocolate and flicking the kettle on, humming along as Ella Fitzgerald sung your feelings into the night.

"Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me..."


"Stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn dear
Just saying this..."

Papyrus didn't sleep much in general, but every so often he would end up watching the sun rise, despite his best efforts. Too many thoughts, too much magic, something like that... even though he worked hard in the day, some nights sleep just eluded him. He wasn't that torn up about it, he knew sleep was essential for most people but this gave him even more time to do what he needed to do! Which tonight... was thoughtfully drinking tea while he stared at the flickering flame of a candle and listened to the radio.

Alright, so sometimes he was allowed to be lazy. He liked music and he liked candles and he liked tea... and lately he liked the circles his mind ran in, picturing a sunny face with a wide smile, freckles scattered over your nose and cheeks and neck. Your sweet voice calling his name cheeefully, never failing to perk him up whenever he arrived at the markets. He loved having a friend like you- moving to a new town with new people had been good, and he had a few more friends than he had been expecting, given his history.

What a shock, to find people who liked him and accepted him, even if it was only because they grew the best produce around and he gave wonderful cooking advice. But you... you always singled the both of them out, and you gave him your undivided attention when he talked. You gave them flowers! You entertained Sans and remembered just how he liked his cider... and the few times he brought his best paintings to the market, he wasn't sure who bought them when he wasn't looking, but he was observant enough to spy the suspicious looking tarp in the back of your truck. All in all, you were lovely.

He glanced at the mug on the table that held the bright yellow flower you had given him. He had followed your instructions for keeping it alive, but it had been a while now and it was starting to droop. No matter, he had a plan for that. There was a book on the shelf that held all of the flowers you had given them over time, dried and pressed for remembrance. It was a little tradition Sans had started, unwilling to throw out their gifts, and thought he pretended to be cool, unsentimental Sans the skeleton, Papyrus knew his brother was extremely fond of you and held onto the flowers for sentimental reasons. It was quite sweet.

When he came back to the table with their book, Sans was sipping his own drink, coffee much too sweet to even rightly be called coffee anymore. Papyrus only raised a browbone as he set it down opposite his sleepy brother, opening it to a clean page and taking the daffodil out of its water to lay it across the page. Sans' joined it there a moment later, two bright flowers side by side. The book closed over them, and others placed on top to add pressure. The brother glanced up at each other with contented smiles, and Sans gave him a nod before disappearing in front of his eyes. Left alone, Papyrus sighed and sipped his tea contemplatively, imagining the brightness of your eyes as he gazed into the candlelight.

And Sans lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if you were doing the same thing as the soft notes of jazz music wafted up to his room from the kitchen.

"Sweet dreams, till sunbeams find you
Gotta keep dreaming leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
You gotta make me a promise, promise to me
You'll dream, dream a little of me..."


Ok now I will definitely get into more actual plot just let me enjoy my fluff ok