"Holy dustbunnies, Batman!" Sans whistled, leaning back in his chair and mocking coughing. Pink glitter and dust swirling through the air as he tried to clear it with a wave of his hand, "How long it been since you last got a tune up? Suprised ya' ain't got cobwebs and a cartoon spider in there."
The robot laid out on the workbench shrugged, kicking one leg over the other and folding his hands behind his head, briefly looking down at his opened up chestplate, the catalyst of the mess Sans was currently trying to deal with. He seemed very unconcerned with the matter, which seemed a bit out of character. Maybe he didn't care as much about the appearance of his innards as he did the appearance of his face.
"Ohh, not sure, really. Was before I took the crown, definitely."
Finally deciding his skeletal hand wasn't going to do much when faced with a dust cloud, Sans had resorted to rolling his sleeve down past his mitts and batting it through the air until he could - hypothetically - breathe again. Relaxing back into his rolling chair, Sans raised a brow towards Mettaton's direction. "An'...how long's that been? Bout 4 months, give or take, yea?"
Mettaton tapped his chin theatrically, rolling his gaze towards the roof and giving an audible hum just to add to the affect. "Suppose so. My, my, has it really been that long? How time flies."
"Boy, don't I feel that sometimes." Sans chattered, making conversation as he scooted his chair backwards to dig through a cardboard box on the ground. "One moment yer layin' down for a post afternoon snack nap, next thing you know it, it's next Tuesday. Ain't it crazy?"
Not amused, Mettaton didn't even crack a smile. "I believe that's called a coma, Sansy."
"Hey! No need t' get all technical on me. Already got enough technicalities I gotta bother with right now." Sans paused in his rummaging to lean his arm against the back of his chair, looking towards Mettaton, waiting for the reaction he oh so craved. Eyebrows waggling in an "eh? eh?" motion.
Either Mettaton once more, wasn't amused in the slightest, or the pun flew completely over his head. Because he regarded Sans with about as much emotion as the animatronic dolls he was modeled after. Which was to say; none.
Letting out a sigh, Sans returned to his rummaging. Not finding what he needed in the first box, he grunted as he had to hunch over to lift another box of miscellaneous somethings onto the table. Rolling his sleeves up once again and shoving his arm, up to the elbow, into the clutter. Suddenly Papyrus's rants about keeping his tools in designated places was really starting to make sense to him...But that took effort, Sans reasoned to himself. And he didn't want to, he also gave himself to back up his claims. So he'd stick with his broken system of trying to remember where he put things every time he needed them. Besides, he only had so many boxes down here, there wasn't a lot of places for things to hide.
"I gotta say though, kinky boots-" Ah-ha! Sans pulled away from the box triumphantly, gripping a can of compressed air in his hand. See! He knew it'd pop up eventually! "Puttin' off tune ups till you get sick? On stage no less? Can't say I can exactly judge, but ain't a good look."
The can made it's home on the workbench not occupied by sparkly robot, next to a Phillips screwdriver and some laid out blueprints. While Mettaton squinted at Sans for the nickname, he decided to let it slide. Rolling over onto his belly to get a better look at what Sans was doing, he perched his chin in his hand and folded his arm under his still opened chest. Feet were swung up over his back and kicked idly in the air.
"Well it wasn't by choice, hun. Just slipped my mind, is all. I'm a very busy man, in case you haven't noticed. I have something called the entire Underground to rule~?"
Sans scoffed, shaking his head a bit as he leaned back in his chair to unwrap the plastic from the can. He briefly looked up towards where the pulled apart robot was posing with his guts showing.
'Well that's someone's kink…' Sans thought to himself, but choose not to say it aloud. Knowing Mettaton well enough if he said anything along those lines he'd possibly trigger some spiel about how one time Mettaton slept with this guy who was really into pulling wires out of sockets and my wasn't his body a dream come true for that.
Still refusing to get out of his chair, Sans wheeled himself over to the work bench and put his hand on Mettaton's shoulder. Forcing him back into a lying position on his back.
"Stay down, can't have ya' jostling your innards."
Mettaton pouted like a scolded child, and Sans ignored it as he started working on putting that compressed air to use on the inside of his chest.
"Well I'll say this, I ain't gonna force you to do check-ups if you don't want it, I ain't your mama. But I am gonna recommend it."
Talking was replaced by the sound of blowing air, the quiet hum of machinery, and the tik-tik-tik of Mettaton's artificial heartbeat. Sans didn't give much thought to the sudden quiet, maybe the cleaning felt good to Mettaton. Maybe he was getting ready to go into shut down mode for the actual repairs, he didn't know.
After a few minutes, Sans had to pull away and set the can aside. Wanting to find a rag to clean the dust that had been swept into manageable little piles. A glance was cast in the direction of Mettaton's face as the dusting was finished up. Mettaton's over expressive eye dulled to a darker shade of pink, avoiding eye contact with the skeleton. He was...upset? And Sans was a bit bewildered. Why the hell was he upset? He was happy and chatty not ten minutes before, the cleaning job set aside for a minute as Sans searched for some elephant in the room he wasn't getting.
Was it something he said? He was just making small talk, trying to help the guy. Give some rare useful advice, oh don't tell him the egomaniac was so sensitive he was going to get upset over being criticized on poor health practices-
"Ah!" Sans's eyelights blinked brighter for only a second, he had found that elephant. "...ah,"
Looking away from the robot superstar, Sans scratched the back of his skull. "Sorry, kid. I didn't uh, mean it like that. Was just a poor choice a'words."
"Mm." Mettaton's sullen expression didn't leave, turning his head to study a very interesting speck of peeled paint on the wall.
Ah, jeez…
"She was uh, she was my friend too, yanno…" Was this comforting? Was this how you comforted someone? "Didn't get to really, talk to her a lot before uh...yanno. Kinda lost contact, was a friend of my d-"
"Change the subject." Mettaton snapped, "Don't you have a check up to be attending to? Since you're so insistent on them."
Sans blinked, not expecting to be yelled at. "Right, my bad."
An awkward silence fell over the room, suddenly the noises of machine at work and the clicking of a faux heart weren't comforting sounds at all. Sans turned his attention back towards the little list written out on the corner of the blueprints. Titled " maintenance prep ".
"2) After cleaning, shut down and remove core. STORE IN SAFE, COMFORTABLE PLACE ."
The last part of the instructions were heavily emphasized. Written in huge text compared to the rest of the list, in all caps, and underlined three times. Damn, Sans thought, That core must be pretty darn important.
Sans had an inkling as to why, but...it wasn't really his business, now was it? Sans had his own secrets, it wasn't much his place to press into Mettaton's. Besides, didn't really care much, he was just the guy's door guard and occasional mechanic.
The skeleton leaned his elbows against the table, eyes scanning the blueprints for a designation to an off switch. He figured Mettaton wouldn't appreciate being frisked to find the thing. Or hey, maybe he would! If Sans was a handsome bachelor, which he wasn't. Sans internally laughed at thinking of himself like that even jokingly. He tapped a picture on the blueprint to lock it into his mind, and pushed himself away from the desk.
"Allright-" Sans scooted his chair up to Mettaton's side once more, a hand going under his neck to part his hair and feel up for the off switch, "Gonna shut ya' off now, nighty night princess."
His permagrin smirked a little wider at his own snide remark, but alas, his comedic genius was once more unappreciated. As in return he only received an icy pink glare.
"Tough crowd tonight," Sans shrugged, and with that the switch was flicked into the off position. Mettaton's eye blacked out, and a click indicated the lock on his core container had undone itself.
"Well that's a nifty little feature," Sans said to himself as he pulled the cover open the rest of the way, clear (and yes, glittery) coolant spilling out of the tank and onto the table. In hindsight, he probably should've been expecting that. Whatever, he'd grab a towel from upstairs later.
Mettaton's core shone as vibrant as a pink as it had before he was turned off, and it looked purple as it was wrapped up cozy in blue magic and lifted into the air. Comfortable place...hm...Sans looked around his small workroom for anything that might be considered "comfortable". Would the Primadonna really notice if he just, set it on a table or something? I mean, come on, it's not like he'd ever find out. He was dead asleep right n-
"SANS!"
Said skeleton jumped with a small gasp, the blue encasing Mettaton's core flickering out as he lost concentration. Sans was quick to snatch it out of the air as it began to fall, wheezing a sigh of relief when it didn't smash to the floor. Goddamn, as if he needed accidental regicide on his plate. Welp, he'd take that as a sign from God, and decided to set the heart down next to the blueprints.
"Pap," Sans laughed, turning to face the newcomer he'd been so loudly interuppted by. "Ya gotta warn me."
"I did warn you! I called you! Ten times, in fact!"
Sans blinked at that, looking over to where his cellphone sat. He reached out to scoop it up, and tapped his thumb against the screen to turn it on.
'10 missed calls from 'bro'.'
"...Huh." Sans put it back down, not sure how he didn't hear that go off. "Eh, sorry, Papy. But, I mean, can ya' blame me? After all-" He shrugged and winked one of his eyelights. "Ain't like I got ears."
Papyrus narrowed his eyes and set his jaw, that one wasn't even a pun. Or very funny, it was really just a statement of fact more than anything. He expected better. But, in lieu of criticizing Sans's poor joke, Papyrus instead marched past him and placed his hands on the occupied workbench. Leaning over Mettaton's prone body and scrutinizing the exposed wiring. Sans let him get an eyeful, he trusted Papyrus. Tech-savvy his little brother may not be, smart enough to not mess with complex electronics he was.
"See somethin' that interests ya'?" Sans asked, trying to fill the silence with ambient conversation as he scanned the blueprints once again to figure out where he should start on this. He figured Mettaton's "stomach" tank would make the most logical sense, what with the reason of him being in here in the first place. Honestly, Sans found it kind of amusing Mettaton had such a thing in the first place. Monster food was magic, after all. The only reason for him having to have such an organ was if Alphys had predicted he would be addicted to eating things you weren't supposed to.
Once he had a grasp on what he was doing, Sans turned back to his workbench. Leaning his cheek into his palm as he waited for his brother to finish up looking at whatever it was he was examining so closely.
Finally, Papyrus seemed to have had his fill, backing up from the bench and placing his hands on his hips. More extended silence followed until Papyrus finally concluded his response, "I didn't realize robots could throw up, is all."
"Don' think he did either, to be honest with'cha." Sans replied, moving his chair back up once Papyrus had moved. Like one might gut a deer, Sans wiggled his fingers under the topmost circuitry to shove his hand up into Mettaton's chest cavity, feeling around for the organ in question. "Yanno, you'd think he'd gotten enough hangovers in his life. I've seen 'im chug down vodka like a guy who hasn' seen water in a month-"
He cut himself off as he felt the piece he had been searching for, grunting as he had to fumble around a bit more to locate the nut locking it into place. Now that he thought about it, it probably would've been much easier to dissect him from the top to get this. Well, too late now, he thought as he pulled back with the piece in hand. It looked to be a repurposed gas tank, painted pink (because of course), and covered in a glittery pastel pink goo that also served to make a new stain on his shirt that had been white many moons ago.
He put the tank down on the table, and wiped the remainder of the fluids off on his shirt. Ah well, not like this thing wasn't stained to hell and back anyway.
"Is...that his-?"
"Oil, or some sorta coolant." Sans answered Papyrus's question before he finished.
Well that put Papyrus's concerns to rest, here he had been thinking it was robot blood, and Sans had cut some sort of artery. "Oil? That looks nothing like oil."
"That's cause it ain't." Sans finally had gotten his hand clean, "Least it ain't oil oil. Some kinda glitter goop alternative. I gotta say, that's some damn hard dedication to an aesthetic."
Unfortunately, Mettaton wouldn't be too happy to learn Sans didn't have designer glitter oil on hand. He'd have to settle for the icky black stuff like a regular ol' superstar robot. How would he cope? The tragedy.
And now that screwdriver came in handy, Sans undoing the screws holding the two halves of the tank together as he opened it up. This time his disgust was very much real as he recoiled at the strong stench that wafted out of it. The very, very, very strong scent of unprocessed alcohol mixed with the sour smell of glue...somehow he preferred the glittery dustbunnies. The tank was filled up with what looked like a concoction of one-half parts glitter glue, and one-half parts 80% proof vodka. No wonder he got sick, Sans was feeling a little ill himself just looking at it. This time Sans's coughing was for real as he dumped the mixed drink from Lisa Frank hell into a trashcan, slamming the lid shut to block out the smell and not wasting any time getting to work scrubbing it out more thoroughly.
"Well, guess my hangover theory was right." Sans continued to cough as he rubbed a rag covered in cleaner on the insides of the tank to make sure all the barely processed glue-ka was gone. He set both halves, upturned, aside to dry out, and kicked the dirty rag to the floor for it to be lost and forgotten about until he needed it later.
Somewhere during this time, Papyrus had taken a seat in a spare chair after moving one of Sans's many boxes off of it and onto the ground. But not before giving it a judgmental look, chairs weren't exactly meant for box storage after all. He pushed his hands into his knees, watching Sans work with curiosity. If not for the pink glitter staining his clothes instead of the trademark black-brown oil, he almost fit the picture perfect stereotype of a mechanic at work.
"That's strange…" Papyrus muttered offhandedly, more to himself than anything.
While the tank was drying, Sans double checked some other vitals. First the batteries, make sure they weren't cracked or leaking. Good news, they weren't. Then the wires hooking them in, he noticed one was slightly frayed. Shoot, he knew he had a roll of electrical tape around here...somewhere.
"What's strange, Pap? Can ya' hand me that box?" Sans rolled back towards where he had found the compressed air, maybe he'd seen it in there earlier? Damnit, he couldn't remember now.
Papyrus obliged, taking the box he had just moved and gently setting it down within Sans's reach. "The fact Mettaton had a hangover is strange. I haven't seen him drink all that much!"
Mumbling a quick thanks, Sans searched through the new box. "Mmhm, well, ya' ain't with him 24/7, Papy. You don't know what he gets up to in his free time, eh?" A soft snort shook Sans's shoulders, and he shook his head a little. "Yanno, probably for the best ya' don't. Guy gets up to some weird things."
Papyrus was compelled to protest in Mettaton's defense. Surely they couldn't be that bad! Sans had his fair share of odd habits, too! For example - the habit of grumbling and swearing to himself over lost items instead of just keeping things in designated spaces as Papyrus had suggested for the umpteenth time by now. Instead of protesting, though, Papyrus's eyes glanced towards a filing cabinet stacked in the corner of the room, probably filled with anything but important documents. Taking a step away from the workbench, he plucked a roll of black tape off the top of it, presenting it to Sans wordlessly.
"Huh- oh! Ayyy! Thanks, Pap!" Sans dropped the box he was holding with a great clatter, snatching up the offered tape roll before going back to hover over Mettaton's body. He ripped a chunk off with his teeth and got to work wrapping up that frayed wire.
"Not a problem. You know, Sans, now that I think about it! I do remember a conversation I had with Mettaton the other day." Papyrus continued as if the conversation hadn't been cut off at all. He sat back down in the chair to watch his brother work. It was quite fascinating to him!
"Oh yea? Somethin' interesting?" There we go, that should prevent Mettaton from losing charge faster than he already did. What next? Hmm...maybe cleaning out his mouth would be the smart decision. Sans wouldn't be surprised if that gunk in his tank that got spit back up was corrosive somehow. He put his thumb on the robot's chin, propping his mouth open and glancing inside...
...He decided to just mention to Mettaton he should brush his fangs when he woke up. He really didn't want to clean glitter vomit off of vampire robot teeth. Mettaton was a fully grown robot man, he could clean himself. Sans was a mechanic, not a babysitter.
"Well, I probably would've been much more enthralled with the conversation if I could contribute more. It was about alcohol, which I don't know much about. But you mentioning it reminded me of it!" Papyrus, chipper as ever, continued to explain.
Sans paused for a second, moving his hand away and letting Mettaton's mouth shut on it's own again. A nagging concern began to brew at the back of his mind, and he nervously rapped his fingers against Mettaton's glass belly. "Oh...really, huh? He uh-" Sans coughed, noticing his own nervous tick and moving his hand into his pocket instead. "Ain't been- pressuring ya' into that stuff, has he?"
The scrape of bone against bone was audible as Papyrus set his jaw again, teeth grinding together loudly. "Sans! You underestimate my ability to resist peer pressure! And, furthermore, it's very rude to insinuate Mettaton is that type of person! Shame on you!"
Sans released the tension in his frame with a mock sigh, pressing a hand against his forehead. "Right- right. I just...don't want ya' goin near that stuff, alrigh'? Stuff's poison."
"So you've said many times, Sans." As exasperated as Papyrus felt after being told that for, exactly, and yes he'd counted, the three-hundreth and fourty-seventh time; he let his tone betray his emotions and remain upbeat. "Now, do you want to hear about my conversation with Mettaton or not?"
"Sure, sure." Sans muttered, only seeming half interested. But really only because he was back to being focused. He debated plugging Mettaton into a laptop and running a diagnostic check as he screwed the tank back together. But...then he'd have to find his laptop, and he'd already found the root of the sickness problem anyway. Plus he hadn't been given a copy of Mettaton's internal programming, and he wasn't entirely sure if he could get a fully-sentient, highly-advanced robot a virus check with McAfee. It just seemed like a hassle of an extra step.
"Well, he was talking about wine! And he did mention alcohol being one of his favorite flavors - but not wine." Papyrus paused briefly, "So, I guess he does drink that much! He must if it's his favorite!"
Oh, was that all? Sans had to shake his head, would've smiled to himself if not for - uh, well, you know. That's what you get for being paranoid, Sans. "Tha's true, Pap. Tha's true."
"Though, I have been trying to talk to Mettaton about healthier habits. He doesn't seem to take care of himself very well!" Papyrus mused aloud, rubbing his hand against his chin, "Perhaps I can talk to him about it! That way he doesn't get sick again?"
Mettaton? Being irresponsible with his health? Who'd'a thunk! Of course Sans didn't voice that aloud, that kind of comment would've crushed Papyrus's feelings. Instead, his chair squeaked as he leaned back in it, one elbow resting against the armrest as he looked in Papyrus's direction. "Listen, Pap. Word'a wisdom from your big bro. Y' can't help someone who don't wanna be helped. And Mettaton? He don't want no help." A snort, "You'd be better off tryin' to teach a cat to swim."
"I've found some cats to be very good at swimming!"
"Was a joke, Papy." Jeez, he was not having a good day in the jokes department. What was that? The third or forth one that had fallen flat?
"Even so! If cats can swim, then Mettaton can learn healthier habits! It's important! Especially for someone as important as him, he has to set an example for the rest of the Underground now!" Papyrus refused to give up on Mettaton so easily. The thought of dropping it before he even started went against near everything he believed in.
A scoff, and Sans didn't reply further than that. Papyrus's shoulders fell, the dismissal upsetting him but...he kept that to himself. Very rarely could he get Sans to see his point of view. He supposed now wouldn't be much different.
With the tank cleaned out and put back in place, vitals double checked to make sure it wouldn't fritz out anytime soon, and everything put back where it was supposed to go, Sans was ready to call a wrap on Mettaton's impromptu medical visit. Blue magic encased the pink heart on the table again, and it was pressed back into its home within Mettaton's abdomen, automatic locks trapping it in place. The robot's pink iris whirled like a loading symbol as his systems rebooted, core container flooding with fresh coolant. A soft and cheerful chime sounded from his chest speaker, indicating it was safe to turn him back on now. Once more Sans had to admire the clever system of operations put into place. He wondered if Mettaton truly appreciated the amount of work put into his body...or if he didn't really appreciate much outside of the spotlight and glitter.
Life returned to Mettaton's features, and he blinked. Wasting no time in sitting up straight and scrutinizing his own front. He frowned at the fact his leggings were wet from Sans failing to mop up the spilled coolant, but upon brushing his pristine white gloves against his front, he found nothing else out of place.
"Gooood morning, sunshine!" Sans hummed, packing his supplies back up. After some serious internal fighting, he had decided to at least sort his "Mettaton essentials" into their own container. "Ya' sleep well?"
"As well as one put into forced stasis can," Mettaton replied, double and triple checking his gloves just to absolutely make sure there was nothing amiss. Satisfied to find he was just as spotless as when he went under, he looked up from himself, blinking wide when he noticed he had - actually pleasant - company. "Oh! Papy darling! How long have you been here, hun?"
"Whole time." Sans responded before Papyrus could, folding up the blueprints very, very neatly. And then stuffing the carefully folded up papers haphazardly into the filing cabinet. Under "d" for "don't care to sort this properly right now".
"Oh, well then!" Mettaton swung his legs over the edge of the workbench, perching his hands on either side of himself and giving Papyrus a little grin. "I don't mind! My body is quite the work of art, inside and out. Who am I to stop someone wanting to admire it~?"
"S' more like gawkin' at a mess than admiring an art piece." Sans butted in once more.
"Sans, dear love, if you haven't noticed-" Mettaton set his gaze in Sans's direction with a cold glare. "I'm not talking to you."
"Well," Papyrus finally spoke up, "I, on the other hand, agree! It is really interesting to look at! I'm very glad to see you awake and feeling okay! You scared me, and everyone else, I'm sure!"
"Not me-"
"Still not talking to you, Sansy." Mettaton snapped, not even bothering to look in his direction this time. Instead he cooed at Papyrus like one might a cute animal, endeared by his concern. "Aww~! How sweet of you! My, goodness gracious I probably did give everyone quite the scare-" He pouted painted lips, and pressed fingers against his chin. "Hmm, I should rectify that. If my dear doctor has given me a clean bill of health~?"
"Clean as it'll ever be. Free to go, hot shot." Sans waved his hand in a vague shooing gesture. "Just don't be eatin' any glitter-coated broken glass anytime soon."
The jab at his eh, "unique", eating habits went ignored as Mettaton clapped his hands together. "Wonderful!"
He unplugged the charging cable from his neck and rolled it up in a ball, stuffing it in a compartment in his hip. "Well, ciao ciao, lovelies~! See at least one of you back at the castle later. I have to schedule a news shoot ASAP."
Papyrus waved enthusiastically after Mettaton as he began to climb the stairs. THe motion going unnoticed and unreciprocated as the robot's attention was quickly consumed with his HUD, catching up on missed notifications and texting his camera crew to get ready for an "emergency" broadcast.
"Oh, wait! One more thing-" Sans called, making Mettaton pause and turn around. Something bonked off his forehead, and he grunted, quick to grab whatever had been thrown at him before it fell to the ground. "Brush your teeth, breath stinks like sugar-coated garbage."
Mettaton gave a disapproving frown to the steel wool brush in his hand.