AN: this is a weird chapter so let me explain what's going on here. This chapter actually time skips backwards by just a little bit, this actually takes place sometime between chapter 3 and 4. The tldr is that Mads wasn't originally going to be in the last chapter, her scene in ch5 was a spur of the moment thing I thought would be funny. Cause I love mads and wanted to include her in the story somehow, and then I thought that I wanted to explore her and Metta's relationship a little bit in this story to kind of explain Mettaton's upbringing and how it kind of plays into the way he is right now. SO initially this chapter was going to be a missing scene oneshot, separate but connected to this fic. But then I decided against it and just shoved it in as an odd one out missing scene chapter. Also hence why it has a chapter name cause this was gonna be the name of the one shot if I posted it as that.
Life at the castle was...difficult. Not bad, not in the least bit bad, but...difficult. Mettaton couldn't quite pinpoint his exact reasonings for disliking it, it was more a combination of things, really. Perhaps it was the discomfort of sleeping in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, maybe it unnerved him to know he had someone constantly stationed outside his bedroom door, never being let true privacy. Or maybe it was just the fact he had come to expect he could be woken up at any time to respond to something that the guards had deemed needed his royal attention right this second, and absolutely couldn't wait till he woke up at his own accord. The mere knowledge preventing him from sleeping soundly.
Maybe that would be the next law he passed, "Don't wake up the king unless someone is dying. And then, first check to make sure someone important is dying.". That sounded good, straight to the point. Hm...so many things he could do now as king. So many things except be left alone in his room… That was the driving reason behind why he was spending his night at the lab, anyway. At least Alphys had always respected his space, even if he couldn't say he'd always done the same. Well, add that to the filing cabinet of regrets, labeled under "Alphys".
His order to leave the lab untouched was still in effect, and Mettaton wasn't planning on lifting that anytime soon. (perhaps another new law.) So, while it lasted, Mettaton could retreat to his old bedroom for some time to himself. Truly to himself. No guards, no concerned skeletons (Papyrus was sweet, bless him, but he could get overbearing sometimes.). Just him, his thoughts, and about 50 or so stuffed animals that he kept stacked on his bed and around the room.
He had taken the time to repair the burnt out fairy lights around hsi room, just to lighten up the place a little. It wasn't too hard to find replacement LEDs around the lab; between all the times Mettaton had asked for flashier and flashier additions to his body, or an extra kick to his costumes, or Alphys's own projects, she had collected probably the lion's share of all the LED bulbs in the Underground. And he was grateful for it, truly. The soft, subtle lighting made his room feel more cozy, soothing even. The glitz and glam of his day-to-day was exciting, sure, and he absolutely wouldn't trade it for the world. But, still, it was nice to rest his eyes now and again.
Mettaton rolled over, face first into his pillows. The length of his charging cable wound down from his neck and round and round his legs from tossing and turning, he never had been a very graceful sleeper. It was almost funny, in his waking hours he took all the precautions to make sure he came off as nothing but light on his feet and beautiful, but then again it's not like he could be conscious of what he looked like as he slept. An ambient purr rose from his chest, finally turning his face out of his pillows to prop his cheek against the plush lion he was clinging to instead. He sneezed when he tried to sigh deeply but ended up just getting a strong whiff of perfume instead. He was surprised it still smelled so strongly, considering he hadn't been in this room for months. It was...actually kind of reassuring, and calming. A living reminder of "the more things change", or something poetic like that. He was too sleepy to come up with something better right now.
Mettaton had always had trouble sleeping, he wondered if it was because he used to not be able to sleep at all. Ghosts only really pretended to sleep, after all. Alphys had said something something insomnia, something something a side effect or symptom of...well, something. He had actually never listened to closely on her psych evals of him. Sciency terms he didn't quite understand, or maybe didn't want to understand. (He probably should've listened more, maybe he wouldn't be here right now if he had.) At the very least, he had understood it was why Alphys had installed him with a forced sleep mode, to use if he so needed it. After all, he worked a very high-energy job and needed all the sleep he could get. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to use it now, since he'd been flopping back and forth on his bed, lost in thought, for some length of time. He had lost track of exactly how much time.
His systems whined to a halt as Mettaton activated it, getting comfy as his vision blurred before blacking out completely...
A crash from outside awakened Mettaton with a start. Panic flaring up in him for a brief moment before it settled back down into frustration. He groaned, rolling over and squinting in the near-darkness at the clock on his bedside table. Backlit pink numbers blinked back at him "2:35am". 2 in the morning…? What the hell could be going on at 2 in the morning?! Nobody was supposed to be in here, king's orders! And it's not like there was anyone else in the building, maybe a few rats lingering in the basement. But he didn't think that would've made that loud of a noise. Mettaton rolled back over onto his back, arm slung across his eyes as he let out another, louder groan. He kicked his legs in a mini tantrum before shoving himself off the side of the bed.
He sat on the edge for a minute, rubbing at his eye, trying to wake up a bit before he stormed down the hallway and chewed out whoever had broken in. That way he'd come off more operly angry, something to be intimidated by, instead of just 'teenager who just woke up'. And also so he could untangle his charging cable from himself. The fact it was so long was both a blessing and a curse. The one thing he didn't bother to fix was his bedhead as he shoved himself to his feet fully and stormed out the room.
The rest of the lab was still mainly dark, as he had left it. Some emergency lights lit the stairway and downstairs, that he remembered being on before he went to bed. The thing he didn't remember leaving on was a light towards the end of the hallway. He sighed, exiting his room fully and closing the door behind him, more delicately than he had opened it. He made his way towards the light to yell at whoever it was that had broken in against strict order. Probably a guard, it had to have been one of the guard. Who else would've known he was here? Maybe Papyrus? He had quickly ruled out Sans, who he doubted would've cared enough to go through the effort of breaking and entering.
Frustration was turning into anger as Mettaton pondered the thought a guard had come in against his wishes. Though, it was strange that said guard had chosen to stumble around the place in the dark, surely what the crash was from. God, what was sooo incredibly important that they had to defy a strict order and only turn one light on in...in...
Mettaton's heart sank when he realized the source of the light, why on earth would they need to go into Alphys's bedroom? He had demanded, especially, that they leave her bedroom untouched. Hell he wouldn't even go in there. He picked up his speed as he continued down the hallway, trying to maintain a cool demeanor as he rehearsed a lecture in his head. Something cool, calculated, radiating icy anger. Scare them a little bit, let them know he meant business. And don't cry, whatever you do don't explode and cry. Anger bawling wasn't good for your image. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and stepped into the door frame, arms folded across his chest and glaring.
The first thing he noticed was the bed had been thrown onto it's side, undoubtedly the source of the crash. But...there was no guard in the room, not Papyrus either. Or - anyone really. ANger quickly turned to confusion, Mettaton scanning the room to figure out what exactly had happened here. Beds don't just flip over by themselves-
"Aw fuck yea that looks real nice."
Mettaton's attention was caught by a voice he didn't recognize, quickly turning his head to look towards the direction it had come from. And for a moment, he was fully convinced this was some sort of lucid dream.
There was, in fact, someone else in the room with him. Standing in front of a full length mirror to the side of the room was a girl, admiring her reflection in the cracked glass. (Mettaton's fault, actually. He had slammed into it some time ago when he was still getting used to having legs.) She wore a frilly pink dress, unnaturally pink hair tied into pigtails with oversized bells adorned her head, a pink cat tail curling on the floor this way and that. A white glove resembling a cat's paw was propped against one hip, the other rubbing her chin as she pulled various faces in the mirror. Alphys's anime girl - Mew Mew Kissy Cutie - standing in front of a full length mirror in her bedroom.
There was no way in hell this was real.
"Limbs, that's different." She muttered to herself, continuing to rub at her chin. She kicked one leg out, then the other, stamping it back down to the ground. Then she grabbed her tail, pulling it round to the front for examination. "Tail, that's real fuckin' different."
As Mettaton watched her admire herself, he couldn't help but think he didn't quite recall a Boston accent and swearing like a sailor to be in the lore of MMKC. He had never paid attention to the show that much, but this he was quite sure of.
The cat girl returned her hand to her chin, pulling back her lips to admire her teeth (Another thing Mettaton didn't remember being a part of her lore - sharp, crooked teeth.) "Hm." Was the only opinion she gave to herself about her grill, closing her mouth again. And after that she put her heels together, back straight like a tin soldier, tugging either end of her collar's bow to fix it up a bit - and yelped in surprise when her head popped off.
Alright, now Mettaton was for sure something was up here.
"Jesus fuck that's really somethin' to get used t'- AH-" the disembodied head rolled towards Mettaton's direction, and that prompted the girl to finally notice she wasn't alone in the room. Her eyes went wide in shock and her body whirled around to match it's direction, tail puffed up and standing on end. A knife, glowing red, materialized in the air, zipping to point straight at Mettaton's neck. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
Mettaton tilted his head slightly to avoid the tip of the magic knife, glaring down at the head on the floor, "I feel like that question might be more fitting of you, darling."
The body's tail swished angrily, trotting towards it's lost head and scooping it off the floor. It was plopped non-gently back onto it's neck, the girl swearing under her breath as she adjusted her cat collar. "That's gonna be a pain in the ass. Hey, pretty boy, gimme a minute. Don't leave."
Mettaton shrugged, closing his eyes with the movement, he tapped his fingers against the inside of his arm as he waited. Not like he had anywhere else to be… He waited while the girl tightened up her accessory, and shifted it upwards towards the split in her neck. As he watched her, he was coming to realize there was an odd sense of familiarity to her he couldn't quite place. Not just the fact she was a larger than life version of the little figurine he had stolen from Alphys's shelf. No, there was something deeper here. The mannerisms, the odd accent, the fondness of knives, especially as magic…
"There we go." She said finally, having situated her collar to where she wanted it. She gave her attention back to Mettaton, opened her mouth to say something, and once more got distracted. This time by something on the floor, "OH SHIT, this thing comes with accessories?!"
Mettaton was disregarded again, the girl diving towards the upturned bed and scooping a cat-shaped wand off the floor. Flipping it between her fingers and grinning in delight at the way the ribbons twirled through the air. Mettaton was fully convinced he had been forgotten about.
Mettaton being forgotten about, yet another thing from her he felt was oddly familiar.
"Oh I'm gonna have some fun with this thing-"
Mettaton cleared his throat, trying to give her a subtle reminder that he was, in fact, still here. The girl took her eyes off the sparkly ribbons and looked back to him, lips curled back in a snarl. "I'm gettin' to ya'! I'm gettin' to ya'! Lord you're impatient."
She clambered over the bed, Mettaton questioning to himself why she couldn't have just gone around. Once over it, she straightened out her petticoat and turned her attention back to Mettaton. The knife disappeared, Mettaton relaxing his head back into a more natural position. But before he could get too comfy, the tip of the cat wand replaced the knife against his neck. Mettaton wanted to be angry, but instead he was just annoyed.
"Anyway - gettin' back to it. Who are you?"
"Mmhm…" Mettaton pressed his fingers against the new thing being pointed at his neck, pushing it downwards. He had no reason to be afraid of plastic kitty toys, as much as the stranger seemed to think otherwise. "And, like I've already told you; I should be asking you that. But maybe your memory of me can be jogged while you're sitting in the dungeon on a trespassing violation."
The cat girl didn't like that, ears pinning back and hissing, "TRESPASSING?! No one fuckin' lives here anymore! Who fuckin' cares if I'm in here, I ain't hurtin' no one!"
"Well, what about destroying property then?" Mettaton nodded towards the upturned bed.
"Oh now you're just makin up reasons to get me in fuckin' trouble, dick." She growled, lowering the wand to her hip.
"Then we'll go back to trespassing," Mettaton hummed, folding his arms once more. "There's signs all over the doors to stay out, you know. Ones you've ignored."
She shrugged, "Signs don't tend to apply to me."
"Oh! Is that so?" Mettaton cooed like he was talking to a small child, tilting his head to one side and pursing his lips.
"Yep." Her pupils narrowed, mocking his pose by folding her own arms.
"So are you stupid? Or just reckless?"
"Been called a little bit of both, though I more like t' think myself a rebel. A girl on her own, no rules, just right-"
"Oh my, I'm not surprised."
"And what's that supposed t'mean?"
"My, whatever you'd like it to, doll!"
"Hardeharr, very funny."
The girl moved forward, reaching up to shove her hand through Mettaton's bangs. He let her, eye idly following her movements as she brushed the hair out of the normally hidden half of his face. She examined it in silence for a moment, at the missing silicone, the blinded eye…
"...Couldn't get that fixed, huh?" She muttered, in such a soft voice, if Mettaton hadn't been there to witness it, he would have never believed it came from her.
In response, he just shrugged, "Even if she could, I don't think I would've wanted her to."
The girl backed up again, putting her hands on her hips. Mads looked up at him with a sad smile. "I knew it. I knew it was you. Man it's...it's been a while, huh?"
Mettaton was finally able to relax now that he wasn't being threatened by pointy things being pointed at his throat. He took the time to brush his hair back into his face, and while he was at it run his fingers through the rest of his hair to brush it out a little, considering up until this point he had been walking around with his hair the same as he had rolled out of bed with. "That's more your fault than mine, darling dear."
Mads shrugged, twirling her little wand idly. "Ehh, can't deny that. Not like I made much attempts to visit…" She turned her gaze to the floor, shifting her foot uncomfortably before clearing her throat. "Uh...can I get a hug?"
Mettaton had finally finished up with his hair, raising a brow in suprise at her request. "You? Hug? My, my, I didn't take you as the type."
"Oh, shut up! Maybe I changed my mind!" She grunted, tapping her wand against the ground and huffing. "So do you want it or not?"
Mettaton smirked, sticking his tongue out between his teeth. Mads gave him a confused look, "Why're you lookin me like th- AY-"
Before she could change her mind, or further protest, he had pulled her in against his chest. Arms looping around her more times than necessary and squeezing her tight. She let out a disgruntled meowing noise, stiffening in his grasp and kicking to try and free herself. But, after a minute, she reluctantly gave in, thunking her head against his shoulder pad with a huff. To which Mettaton only took as motivation to cuddle her harder, smushing his chin on top of her head and purring.
It was an uncomfortably long time Mettaton stood there with her, swaying slightly on his heels. "...I missed you."
Aaand that was the dealbreaker, "Hey hey, I didn't say get sappy with me." Mads started up her wiggling again to try and escape his grasp. This time, though, he relented, uncoiling his arms and letting her drop the small distance to the floor.
She stumbled, arms flailing to try and catch her balance. She managed to catch herself by grabbing onto a set of drawers, glaring down at her feet. Therein she found the root of her issue - of course, this was a doll. A doll meant to wear heeled shoes, meaning her own ankles were permanently pointed into a tiptoed position on kitty paw feet to accommodate.
"Oh you gotta be kiddin' me…" She growled, ears pinning back. She tried to pin her heels lower to the floor to get a better balance. Well, trying and failing.
By this point, Mettaton thought he had a pretty good idea of what had happened here, from the clearly doll-like body to the upturned bed. Though….something in him found it hard to be mad at it, and he wondered if Alphys would've felt the same. Sure, the initial shock of having what must've surely been a rare collectable stolen in such a strange fashion probably would've upset her at first. But, how different was it from his own body? Despite the fact his was custom built? Actually, he kind of wondered if Alphys had studied the doll to some extent while planning his own body's joints and features.
He went to push the bed back upright, making the covers and fluffing the pillows while Mads continued to stomp around behind him. He had to hold his tongue to avoid pointing out she had been balancing just fine before. MEttaton sighed, turning to her once he had finished fixing the bed.
"Oh, stop it. You're going to break it. You can have some of my shoes if it bothers you so much, I don't really use them anyway."
Mads stopped mid-step, one leg held out straight in front of her, balancing perfectly on one foot with no sign of toppling over. Which, again, made Mettaton scream inside his head at her ridiculousness.
"GREAT!" She suddenly shouted, causing Mettaton to flinch. She didn't wait up as she marched towards the door and out into the hall, already making her way towards the bright pink door in the hallway before Mettaton could even begin to follow her. "I was raiding your room while you were conked out, I actually saw somethin' I liked."
Mettaton sat on his knees as he sorted through the pile of shoes on the floor of his closet, trying to match together pairs, decipher which heels were the correct height for Mads, and sorting them accordingly. He had never stopped to realize how much of a mess his personal closet really was. At the studio his costumes were always carefully sorted and stored based on occasion. Dresses and suits for formal events in one section, various eccentric costumes for stage performances in another, there was a portion specifically dedicated to accessories, and so on and so forth. Of course, at the studio he had paid staff members who's sole duty was to take care of his clothing. Here at the lab, it was all up to him. And it really was a testament to how disorganized he truly was without the help of paid employees.
Half his clothes weren't even hung up, legwear and various items too heavy or awkwardly shaped for clothes hangers fallen to the floor. There was a sleek black dress still in drycleaning plastics shoved to the very end of a rack, he could only recall wearing it once. His shoes were in a huge pile on the closet floor, not given much care how they landed or how hard it was to find them again. He didn't remember buying a large majority of these. To be fair, though, he didn't go into this closet that much. A lot of these were clothes he bought while he was still using BETA, in excited preparation for EX. Hell, he even picked up a pink sweater that was very clearly square-shaped. Maybe he could repurpose it into sleepwear or something. Also - hence the unnecessarily large collection of shoes he could even wear. The signature pink stilettos were a permanent fixture to his body, Alphys having told him she had planned to give him an alternative set of legs with regular feet if he ever wanted to change it up a little.
But that had never gotten finished, and he didn't entirely trust Sans to take up the torch on that project.
He sighed, setting back on his heels and folding his hands in his lap. He glanced over to where Mads had been excitingly trying on every pair he offered to her. If a pair didn't fit, or she didn't like the style, it was quickly ripped off and tossed somewhere through the room, not a care in the world given to where it landed or what it hit on the journey over. Right now, she was trying to fit into a pair of white velvet boots, the fabric styled so it was loose around the ankles and having pink pompom balls dangling on strings. She leaned back and admired them once they were on her feet, kicking her heels against the floor, entranced by the way the pompoms bounced along with her.
"Well, I think that's all of them." Mettaton said, rolling his hips to sit on his ass, arm flopped against his knees as he watched her. He glanced around the room to where all the thrown shoes had landed, making a note of what he had to clean up later. He pouted a little when he noticed one had kicked a plushie down from it's shelf. He pushed himself off the floor to right what had been wronged, telling himself he'd clean up the rest of the mess later. It wasn't like he was trying to impress anyone, after all.
"Too bad only a few of 'em fit." Mads said, sitting on her knees and gathering the small 'like' pile she had made closer to her, shoving them into one shoebox. "...Still firm I can't have the stripper boots?"
"Very firm." Mettaton snapped, not turning away from his task. He scooped the little toy off the floor and put it back in its place. Fixing it's tiny ears and giving it a pat on the head.
"Damn." Mads huffed, plopping her rear back on the floor and stretching her legs out in front of her. She leaned back on her hands, watching Mettaton for a minute before looking more around the room. At the pink star-shaped fairy lights, the canopy bed, the little plush dolls Mettaton was so concerned over. "Haven't changed at all, have ya'?"
Mettaton hummed in response, "Well, I would say I've changed a lot."
"Nah." Mads shook her head, and stopping once she felt the broken joint jiggle too much for comfort. "I mean, sure ya' got a new look and a new name. But you're still the same kid I knew. It's kinda fuckin' impressive ya' managed to make almost the exact same bedroom twice-"
"Three times." Mettaton corrected, satisfied with his shelf reorganizing. He moved towards the gilded liquor cabinet on the opposing wall." When you left I moved out of upstairs, actually I moved into your house.
She shrugged, "Eh, can't be mad at that. Ain't like I was plannin' on comin' back."
"You made that very clear…" Mettaton popped the lock on the cabinet, sliding open the glass door. He pursed his lips at the contents of it, shifting some of the taller bottles around as he searched for something in specific. "Blooky cried for weeks, you know."
A grunt, Mads cast her gaze to the floor. "Yea I...kind of figured. Always a crybaby." Her ears perked up, and she grinned in Mettaton's direction. "So how much did you cry then, ya big sap?"
Mettaton didn't respond.
"Thought so," Mads snorted, his silence was answer enough. "You were always such a baby too.I think you took too much after 'em." She went quiet for a while, "Hey, uh, how've they been anyway?"
Mettaton paused, fingers tapping against the glass of the cabinet door, "Wouldn't know, I haven't seen them in a while."
"Yea? Me...me neither…" The tip of her tail twitched uncomfortably as the silence stretched into minutes, only broken by the clinking of glass as Mettaton continued his searching the cabinet. "...We're kind of terrible people, aren't we?"
"Maybe you." Mettaton huffed, having finally made his selection. He set aside a bottle and picked up two wine glasses from the inside rock. "At least I didn't leave with a screaming fit."
Mads' ears pinned down as low as they could, "Wow, you really haven't changed."
"Oh hush, I'm giving you shoes." Mettaton slid the door shut on the cabinet, settling down on the floor across from Mads. He sat down between them in the shag carpet, a fat glass bottle, filled with something pink and sparkly. He handed one of the wine glasses out to Mads, a wordless offering.
Mads tilted her head, giving a playful grin, "Am I encouragin' underage drinking? Hold old are y' now?"
Mettaton rolled his eyes, "Oh, please. I've been drinking since I was 14 and you know that, and now you're concerned?"
"Doesn't answer my question."
Mettaton sighed deeply, putting his hand over his face and grumbling out at a barely audible level, "...19."
Mads whistled, curling her tail around to her lap. "Damn, 19! And how long you been that?"
"A few...few years…" Mettaton didn't like talking about his age. He had always been slightly embarrassed about the fact he would never reach legal drinking age in ghost years.
Mads gave a loud cackle, finally taking the offered glass from him. "Aww! So you're forever baby!"
Mettaton's eye narrowed, giving her an unimpressed look. "Do you want booze or not?"
"Oh you big wuss. Fine, fine. I'll shut it." She settled down, holding the glass between her legs as she watched Mettaton struggle with the cork of the bottle. It wasn't full to the top, she noticed, but not by much.
"Either you're servin' me crap booze in a Gucci belt or ya' really, really love me." She pointed out.
"Neither," Mettaton retorted, "I just forgot I had this. I get so many bottles as fan gifts it's hard to keep up with sometimes. But, I have been told this is one of my better bottles, very rare."
"So you do love me," Mads purred, tail lifting off the ground and swishing through the air. (she was leaning into the cat thing rather quickly, Mettaton noticed. Briefly he wondered what else she had been closeting for all these years).
"Well of course I do, dear." Mettaton had finally gotten the cork out, setting it to the side and filling up his glass. The glitter swirling around the surface in a whirlpool, "I figured this occasion was worth breaking out the good labels over. Finding each other again, your new body. It's all very exciting, isn't it?"
Mads shrugged, snatching the bottle from him once he was done and pouring herself a glass. For a moment Mettaton worried he hadn't thought this through, fully expecting glittery pink drink to come pouring out the seam in the kitty doll's neck. But, monster food's magic properties held up even to unfused ghosts. Or...monster alcohol, as it were. She took a long swig without problem, and balanced the glass between her fingers, swirling it around to stir up the glitter. Pretty, probably didn't add to the drink in any way once so ever, but petty.
"You're lyin' to me," she said, giving him a knowing look, "Couple hours ago you were throwin' a tantrum at me, wanting me to get out so you could get back to your brooding. What's got ya' changing your mind so sudden?"
Mettaton wouldn't admit it word for word, she was right. He had an ulterior motive here, and the alcohol was to serve as a social lubricant. It just so happened he could also disguise it as a celebratory gesture by pulling out something expensive and showing off a little bit.
"I'm playing pretend," He said simply, staring at his glass to avoid eye contact. He didn't elaborate, feeling he didn't mean to. And he was right, because Mads knew exactly what he meant.
"Alright, I'll play me, you'll play the whiny brat." Mads snickered, "How's that sound, kiddo?"
He cringed at the nickname, but knew if he voiced his dislike of the name she'd just go out of her way to keep calling him that.
"So," Mads began, setting her glass to the side, putting her hands on her knees and leaning forward. "Why don't we start with why you were sitting alone in the dark? No adoring fans to cuddle up with?"
Mettaton took a sip from his own glass, still avoiding eye contact. He was much more delicate with his sipping than Mads' mad chug, taking his sweet time with it. Not because he was savoring it, but because he was stalling for time as he thought of a way to answer. "Would you believe I wanted to be alone for once? As much as I love the attention, it's stifling sometimes."
Mads gasped, her face shifting into the anime look the doll had had before she possessed it and made it her own. A paw came up over her mouth, and her voice came out in a squeaky tone, "You? Wanting to be alone? Who are you and what have ya' done with my cousin!"
"Suprising, I know." Mettaton hummed into the rim of his cup, "Castle life...not as glamorous as I was expecting it to be.
Another faux gasp, this one even more high pitched and patronixing than the last, "Reallly?! You're tellin' me ruling kingdoms ain't all royal balls, pretty crowns, finding prince charming?!"
Mettaton glared at her, "You don't have to be so cruel about it."
She dropped the act, face returning to normal. But not without a mean giggle, "Oh, alrigh', alrigh', I'll quit the shit." She picked up her glass again, lapping at her drink like...well, like a cat. (Again, she was really leaning into the cat thing.) She scrunched up her whiskers as it burned her throat, ending up coughing and pulling back, wiping her face in her sleeve. "Ugh - I thought that'd go over better."
"Almost like it's alcohol, strong alcohol. I don't drink anything below 40%." It was Mettaton's turn to smirk, "But, no, you're right. I did think this would be more like the movies. Less...stressful, less people demanding my time and attention."
He tapped the side of his glass, leaning into his hand. "Gosh, that's another thing I never expected to be thinking. Not wanting people to demand my attention. But, goodness, darling, the things these people ask of me...it's like they think I'm a miracle worker instead of a ruler."
He picked the bottle back up, refilling his glass to the brim and taking another sip. The booze was loosening his lips, and words came tumbling out before he could give much thought to them. "And they'll show up unannounced all the time, no matter what I'm doing. If I turn them away, they'll make some remark about "Well Asgore never would!". So I've had to stop turning them away, but that just means I now have to be prepared to be so rudely interrupted anytime, anywhere…"
"That's rough buddy," Mads refilled her glass as well. "Ya' can't just tell 'em you're busy? Ain't cha still runnin' your show?" Another swig, "Wouldn't know, don't get to watch it."
Mettaton pouted, putting a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "You don't watch my show?"
"Ay! Gimme a break! I've been livin' in the dump 'till now! Not like we got five star cable connection over there!" Mads snapped, "So yes or no, are you?"
"Well of course!" Mettaton leaned backwards against the foot of his bed. "Being king is only my part time, entertaining will always be my top priority. My life's work, or "prime directive" as I've led the people to believe."
Mads nearly spit out her drink at the unexpected robot lingo, "Prime directive? Christ, you feel some sort of fuckin' drone?"
"Well, I have been presenting that I'm completely artificial. It's the cover story Alphys wanted me to use, to impress Asgore, you see." Mettaton drug his hand down his face, "It's a...very long story to how I got here, I'll spare you the details, love."
"I can kinda infer, don't sweat it." Mads shrugged, "I think…" she paused, "Ya' lookin for legit advice or do ya' just want a bitching buddy?"
Mettaton had to actually think on that for a moment, "I'm curious to hear what kind of advice you of all people have to give."
"Well, if you're gonna have an attitude about it then never fucking mind," Mads growled, "Ya' wanna go back to bitching?"
"No, I'm being genuine." Mettaton folded his hands under his chin, "You've never been the type to offer advice. No offense, darling, but you tend to blow up at problems rather than solving them."
"Guilty as charged." Another long drink, and another glass refilled. "But, no, seriously. I think that's where you're goin' wrong. Seein' yourself as entertainer first, king second - that's why people are lookin' at ya' and goin', "Jesus fuck, what an idiot. I can't trust this bitch to run this place. I gotta pester 'im all the time to make sure he knows what he's doin'." Seemed like the drink was starting to take hold of her, "Does that - does that make sense?"
"I think it does…" Actually, the drink was starting to take hold of him as well. He stared down at his glass, enraptured by his reflection on the glittering surface. "Ohh...dear...but if I do my show less often, won't that give people less reason to like me? If-if I'm not providing the thing they know and love me for, won't that just make them all mad?"
Mads rolled her eyes, "Kid, I don't think they're gonna up and stop carin' about ya just cause your'e doin' less than 50 shows a week. Just air some reruns, no one will care. Ya' got a lot on your plate now, if they don't get that, that's their problem." She reached out and gently punched him in the shoulder, "And hey, they raise problem, I'll bet 'em up for ya'."
"Guess so…" Mettaton had folded himself up into a ball, hugging his knees with one arm, the other still holding his drink. He was quiet for a long while, not even responding to the small joking (or, likely not joking, considering who it came from.). He stared at his glass, mapping the way the liquid distorted his reflection. The swirling of the brightly colored vodka almost made him look like someone else, some thing else. If he stared just long enough - it almost looked like something horrific. Or...maybe that was just his intoxicated mind talking.
"Wh..what about you, then?" Mettaton's voice slurred slightly as he lifted his head away from the glass, propping his chin on his knees to look at Mads. "What've you been up to? M'much more intrigued by your life, consid...considering yours isn' plastered for all monsterkind t'see…"
"Hm? Me?" Mads stretched her arms, folding them behind her head. "Eh, nothin' too excitin'. Hang out in the dump a lot, my ol' body got fucked up by that human kid that came through." She grunted, "Sure yer familiar."
"Quite…" Mettaton mumbled, "Sssoo, tha's why you were in here?"
"Well duh . I don't break into places just for kicks." Mads huffed, finishing off the rest of her glass before shoving it into the middle. "Anyways, I tap out. Don't feel like falling into lava on my way back."
Safety rails around Hotland...maybe that could be a project. One that made it look like he was doing something. "You're...you're leavin' ssso soon?"
Mads pushed herself up to her feet, gathering up her shoebox and cradling it against her hip. "Metta, it's been 4 hours. It ain't a "so soon". That ain't even countin' the time I was here while you were out."
"Oh…" Mettaton's voice came out smaller than he had meant it to. Now that he no longer needed to share, he discarded his wine glass, picking up what remained of the bottle instead and wrapping his lips around the mouth of it.
Mads frowned, watching him in his little ball of misery. To her, she thought this was all just an act. "Jesus, if you want me to stay the night, just say so. Don't gotta act so dramatic about i-"
"I'm scared, Maddie."
At that, Mads shut her trap real quick. A hiccup come from somewhere in Mettaton's chest, visible eye welling up with tears. Mads was suddenly very, very uncomfortable, ears pinning flat to either side of her head and giving him a worried look. "Aw c-come on kid. Don't cry on me now. Come on."
Too late, one hiccup turned into a fit, and he squeezed the remnants of that bottle to his chest like he was cuddling one of his numerous stuffed animals. He whined loud, tears streaming down his face as he babbled, "I-I don-don't know wh-what t-to do o-or what I'm su-supposed to do-and-and I'm trying - and I-I'm trying and, and, they hate what I do, th-they hate me-"
"They don't hate you." Mads piped up, trying to think of what she was supposed to say here. She wasn't really a feelings person. Comforting Mettaton when he was this upset had always been Napsta's department, and vice versa when Napsta was upset.
But guess who wasn't here now to pass Mettaton off to? Ugh, she knew this day would come. Never like this, but ain't that what life is? Full of surprises and uncomfortable situations. She wasn't completely heartless, and didn't want to leave the poor guy like this but - god, what was she supposed to do here?
"I'm-m going to ru-in everyth-thing and they're gonna hate m-mee, I don't want to ruin everythinnnng-" Another sob racked his chest, the bottle shoved back into his mouth and hooking his teeth around it, tilting his head back to chug what was left of it.
"Alright, so what we aren't gonna do is this." She stepped forward, wrestling the bottle out of Mettaton's hands and holding it away from him.
He stared up at her with a hurt look, all smeared makeup and glittery tears. But she wasn't following for robot puppy dog eyes, no matter how sad they were. She searched the shag carpeting for a cork, and once sealed kicked it under his bed where it wouldn't be found again. Of course she knew he had a whole cabinet full of this stuff, and he could just get up and grab another bottle but - hey, she was trying. He whimpered as he watched it roll into the darkness, as if he hadn't registered what had happened until just then.
"You've had enough, champ." Mads folded her arms across her chest as she gave him a stern look. "Don'tcha got any friends you can call over? I'unno, spend some time with them?"
While, yes, just before she had said she was fine staying the night if he just asked normally. That was before she knew she was going to be dealing with a drunk and crying Mettaton, begging her to stay in the room and keep him company until he sobbed himself into exhaustion.
More tears sprung up at the corner of his eye, hyperventilating as fingers clawed through his hair, "I DO-DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS! TH-THAT'S THE PROBLEM!"
Mads flinched, dragging her hands down her face now that it was for certain; she was stuck with a drunk metal crybaby. "Alright, alright. Quiet down. Lord above you're gonna wake the dead screamin' like that."
Mettaton quieted down to a soft whining, balling up again and hugging his knees. Mads looked around the room, now...what to do, what to do? Her eyes landed on his bed. Eh, it was a cliche, but not like she had any better ideas. She searched his bedding until she found the end of his charging cable, setting it to the side. "Why don't ya' sleep? You'll feel better in the mornin'"
Surprisingly, he went along with it without any protest. Nodding miserably, he pushed himself up to his feet, stumbling a little bit. Mads caught his arm to try and help out, but that almost pulled her to the ground as well. "YEESH, you're heavy!"
"M' metal…" He slurred, pulling his arm from her grasp as he got closer to the bed. Or...tried to anyway. It just spooled outwards as he tried to pull away, Mads having to let it go on her own accord for his hand to drop to the floor. He didn't bother trying to correct it, flopping against his bed face-first, arm still trailing beside him. The frame creaked under the sudden weight, but held. Must've been reinforced, Mads thought.
Mettaton rolled over onto his belly, finally reeling his arm back in to it's normal length if only so he could snatch the perfume-scented lion he had been sleeping with before. Curling his entire body around it and stuffing his face into it.
Mads glanced towards the cable she'd set onto the beside, picking it up again and looking between him and it, "So...do you not need this, or?"
Mettaton snatched that from her too, causing Mads to give a startled "hey!" in response. Without pulling his face out of his toy, he fumbled at the back of his neck trying to plug it in. He missed, and then he missed again. So, he tried again, he missed both times, so he-
"Ugh, give it." Mads took the cable back from him, slotting it into the back of his neck after one attempt. She tugged at it a little bit to make sure it was secure, then backed away. "Now go to sleep."
Mettaton finally pulled his face out of the stuffed toy, rolling his eye in Mads' direction, "...Will you stay?"
Well, this was gonna be her night, then. She settled herself onto the floor again, huffing as she propped her chin into her hands. "Yea, yea, I'll stay."
"Promise?"
She rolled her eyes, giving an over-exaggerated groan. "Pinkie promise swear on my mama's life - go to bed."
Satisfied with that answer, no matter how smarmy, Mettaton tangled himself in his comforter, and was out in record time.
The next time he woke up, the clock read 10am. She was gone again.
Typical.