Prompt: Post-pacifist fluff. Asgore, Alphys and Papyrus at night in the kitchen, after being woken up by a nightmare.
His nightmares are always so bright.
Sometimes, it's harsh lighting against tile walls. There's a face that he can't quite see, can't quite remember, just at the edge of his peripheral vision. There's tubes and scalpels and pain.
But Papyrus doesn't actually know what these dreams are about. Can't recall them. Only wakes up with an unsettling dread in his gut and a pounding in the back of his head.
Sometimes, it's soft light filtering through the barrier, a sun they won't ever get to see. It casts shadows through the windows, illuminates the dying flowers, and Papyrus fiddles with the crown on his skull.
But he'll wake up and remember those times are gone. He'll stare at the ceiling until he can ground himself, until he's sure he doesn't need to watch them fall anymore.
Most often, it is snow. An unending whiteness burning into his vision. The sound of shuffling footsteps on frost.
And he knows, he knows this is when he dies.
He wakes up shaking, just as the imagined knife digs into his vertebrae, the sting still there. He's grinding his teeth against the sound that threatens to come out, swallows it down so as to not wake his brother.
When he turns his head, he can see Sans in the other bed on his stomach. The sheets shift as the small skeleton moves subconsciously, but he doesn't wake up.
Papyrus sighs softly in relief.
He closes his eyes again, but there is only white, only cold. He opens them quickly and realizes sleep is out of the question for now.
Just lying in bed listening to the silence isn't very tempting either, so he gets out of bed instead, being careful to avoid making too much noise.
It's dark, but Papyrus doesn't need the light to see. He circumvents the third step on their stairs, knowing it creaks something horrible.
In the living room, he notices an odd glow illuminating the couch. The kitchen light is on.
He's not the only one still awake.
He considers going back upstairs, unwilling to disturb whoever is there, but he thinks of the nightmare and rubs a hand down his ulna. Some company might be nice right now.
Rounding the corner, it turns out to be King Asgore who is still up, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a book in front of him.
"Good evening, your highness," Papyrus says, and the large monster startles a bit. He obviously did not expect anybody else to be awake at this hour.
"Good heavens, Papyrus. It's..." Asgore glances as the clock, while Papyrus walks around the table to fetch a cup as well. "It's nearly three in the morning, what are you doing up?"
There is a lie on the tip of his proverbial tongue, but Papyrus reminds himself that they are not underground anymore. That he doesn't need to deceive anymore.
"I had a bad dream." He pours in the tea, telling by color it's the golden flower one that the king prefers. "It's stupid," he adds after a second.
"Dreams are rarely stupid," Asgore answers, closing his book with a soft thud and cradling his cup instead. Papyrus decides to take the chair opposite him.
When the skeleton notices the book, he grimaces. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your reading, your highness."
Asgore merely laughs. It's a light, warm sound. "You are not disturbing me at all, Papyrus. And I'm not a king anymore, remember."
Papyrus nods, taking another sip.
"Maybe, you would like to tell me about your dream?" Asgore asks next, but he must have visibly tensed and Asgore coughs lightly. "Or perhaps, you care to hear about what I'm reading instead? I've heard you like books."
Now it is Papyrus' turn to be surprised. "Who told you that?"
"Sans did." Asgore is smiling pleasantly, fingers tapping against the wooden surface of the table. "He seemed quite nostalgic to a time of reading you stories back-" He stops.
The king doesn't like talking about The Underground, Papyrus noticed. He doesn't sleep a lot, either. And he looks sad when he thinks nobody is looking.
"Of course. Sans reads to me every evening! Well, he used to, but..." Papyrus casts his eyes to the wall in an effort to recall the last time he's actually heard the amazing adventure of fluffy bunny. "But I think we might have neglected the habit a bit since coming to the surface."
Asgore shakes his head solemnly at the statement, even if he's smiling still. "You shouldn't. Family is very important, Papyrus."
There is something in those tender blue eyes that make the skeleton unsure of how to respond, but luckily, he doesn't have to.
"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to uh-" Alphys trails of awkwardly, fidgeting on her spot right in the kitchen doorway. "I didn't mean to uh, disturb. I'll just... go back to bed now."
"Not at all, Alphys. Do join us for a cup of tea, won't you?" Asgore quickly intervenes, before the royal scientist can even turn around.
Alphys goes as pink as the oversized Mew Mew Kissy Cutie shirt she wears as nightwear, seemingly wanting nothing more than to disappear into thin air.
But the king's kind voice is hard to refuse, and she nods, quickly shuffling her way to the counter so she doesn't have to look them in the face anymore.
"So how come you're awake?" Papyrus asks, trying not to stare at her back as she prepares a cup of tea for herself too.
"Ah, w-well, it's just..." Alphys stutters, dropping her spoon twice in the process. "Just... dreams, you know."
Her voice is almost impossibly quiet when she says the second part, but Papyrus and Asgore hear anyway. They share a glance between them and grin.
"Yes, we know," Papyrus confirms, resting his head on one hand.
Alphys puts her cup on the table and climbs the chair with some effort, face caught between a smile and an expression of nervous nausea.
Asgore clears his throat. "So, Alphys. Do you like books?"
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