His senses overwhelmed him. The silken spaghetti poured into Sans' mouth, tastes and textures unfurling like vibrant flowers. It had strongly improved from Papyruses previous 'pure bland' on a plate to a dish so wonderful and yet so nostalgic it reminded Sans of everything he had held dear in the Underworld. Muffet leaned over the counter to be greeted with the sight of Sans happily shovelling food into his face. No matter how polite or self-reserved people were, Papyrus' usually had that effect on people. Sometimes the diner could become chaotic with orderings and re-orderings that the kitchen would be swamped with pasta. The only calm person in the place (occasionally infuriatingly) was the chef himself. Though recently business was slow, and he was taking a nap. This changed rapidly when Muffet casually informed him that Sans had walked in to order his signature dish. He rose up gracefully off the counter, smashing everything on it, and sauntered to the cooker. Although on the outside he looked calm and ready, he could hardly contain his excitement. Sans!? Asking for his pasta? He could scarcely believe it. Ingredients had been set out in advance due to the constant orders, and he was ready to get to work.

'A little bit o' this, and of that' he muttered to himself as he sprinkled his special ingredients in; Salt, basil, oregano and... torn up construction paper?

Slopping the bolognaise onto the dish, he called Muffet. He decided to go out into the diner as well, carefully choosing a seat which had a prime view of Sans. He sunk into the sofa, instantly relaxing. Papyrus watched Sans contentedly and sleepily, as Sans devoured the meal eagerly. The huge smile on his face made Papyrus' heart burst with joy. After a while, fatigue started enveloping him, and he lay down happily, cushioned by copious amounts of foam. Soon his eyes were drooping and-

He woke up to screaming. Chaos ran rampant through the diner, a cacophony of smashed plates and thumping boxing in his ears. Papyrus' eye flashed orange, and he bolted upright. The cosy atmosphere had been replaced with pure panic. As people all around him lost their heads, Papyrus' mind was on only one thing. Sans. He took off and pelted down the stairs, pushing aside the terrified civilians in search of his partner. He vaulted over upturned tables to his favorite green sofa, on which Sans lay, dripping with red.

'Sweet Toriel!' he cried, 'What happened!?'

Sans jolted out of unconsciousness.

'Wha-' he started, 'What did happen?'

He looked down to see his battle suit stained. He at once cried melodramatically,

'Oh, woe is me! Alas poor Sans! I knew I was too good for this world.'

Papyrus was simultaneously smiling and weeping. It was heart-wrenching, but it had to be done. With on deft movements, he tore into Sans' costume, turning it to aqua shreds.

'Pap!' Cried Sans, 'Stop!'

'I'm sorry, but I have to!'

'No, no! It was just the spaghetti!'

'...what?' Papyrus gaped.

He looked inside Sans' suit to reveal red tomato juice and fleshy chunks of meatball covering his ribcage. He stopped dead.

'Oh my Tori, Sans.'

Sans sat up suddenly, shocked.

'Surely the great Sans was not so easily defeated?' he exlaimed.

Papyrus turned to him, slackjawed.

'You really have...

made a MEAL out of this'

'PAYRUS, I COULD HAVE BEEN DYING AND YOU ARE STILL MAKING THOSE INFERNAL PUNS!' Sans shouted playfully.

'I am glad to see you alive. I almost thought you'd PASTA way!'

Sans threw back his head and laughed, slowly sinking into the sofa amidst the empty Diner.

A/N: I hope you like the way this little two-shot turned out! I found the dialogue a real pain to write, so no hard feelings if you found that or the pacing unnatural. See ya soon!