“HUMAN!” Papyrus shouts as he dashes into your kitchen, boots skidding across the tiles as he narrowly avoids crashing into your pantry door.
You look up from where you were carefully rolling out dough for a pizza. You’d hoped giving Papyrus and his brother free rein of your house would distract and dissuade him from coming in to help you cook. On the plus side, it’s been working, because you haven’t had to spend the evening putting out grease fires and being force-fed overcooked pasta noodles. However, judging by the thick film paper in his hand and the scandalized expression on his face, it seems that your plan has still managed to backfire on you.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were keeping lewd pictures of hot skeletons?!” Papyrus makes a face that is strangely reminiscent of a pout in spite of his complete lack of lips. “I could have posed for you!”
Sans, who you know was not in the kitchen two seconds ago, chuckles from where he’s seated comfortably at the dining table. “Lemme’ see.”
Papyrus walks toward the table and hands over a full-body image of a skeleton on a sheet of x-ray film.
“Give me that!” you snatch the image away, the thick film of the image emitting a warped whooshing sound.
“So,” Sans digs his hands back into his pockets, “Who’s the hottie? Can you introduce us?”
“No need. You already know them,” you grumble as you bury the image in a pile of newspapers. You make a mental note to return the lewd skeleton picture to the filing cabinet where it belongs once you no longer have company.
“What?!” Papyrus jumps in. “No way! That bone structure is almost as handsome as mine! With my impeccable memory, there’s no way I, The Great Papyrus, could forget someone like that!”
“Yeah, well, it’s me,” you say as you throw the pile of newspapers on the floor of your pantry and shut the door. “And I know I told you to feel free to look around but it’s still considered super rude to snoop through somebody’s medical records.”
“WHAAAAAAAAT?! That’s you?!” Papyrus’ eyes—or whatever the heck they are—bug out of his sockets. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were a sexy skeleton all this time?!”
Sans, meanwhile, looks at you thoughtfully, his elbow resting on the table and his chin in his hand. “You know, now that I take a good look at you, you do have very lovely cheekbones.”
You feel your cheeks heat at the compliment. “T-thank you,” you stammer.
“And such shapely hips,” he leers, white pinpricks of light in his eyes glowing.
Your embarrassed smile immediately shifts into a hardened scowl.
“All this time,” Papyrus continues, “I thought you were a human, but you were actually a super hot skeleton.” He eyes you suspiciously. “What other secrets are you hiding? Next you’re going to say you can make spaghetti.”
“Well, I can make spaghetti, but it’s not really a secr—”
“OH NOOOOO!!!! You’re my ideal partner!”
You ignore his outburst. “And I’m no more a skeleton than any other human being. All people have skeletal structures and, therefore, all people have skeletons beneath their skin and muscles. I’m pretty sure monsters do too. Except, you know,” you shrug, “Slime monsters and stuff.”
“I never knew… How many other people do I know that are also secretly super attractive skeletons?”
“Probably at least seven,” Sans eggs him on.
“That’s most of my friends! I think.” Papyrus pulls off one of his oven mitts and mumbles out loud as he begins counting on his fingers. “Yes! That’s probably most of them. For me to have so many good-looking friends… Does that mean I’m popular now?”
Papyrus turns to you with such a hopeful, earnest expression that it makes your heart ache. You look to Sans for help but that does you absolutely no good because he just keeps grinning at you in a very unhelpful manner. You turn back to Papyrus.
“Yes?” you finally answer.
The tall skeleton’s eye sockets light up. Somehow. Magic, probably.
“I’m popular! I have to go tell Undyne right away! She might have no idea that she could be almost as beautiful as me.”
Both you and Sans watch wordlessly as Papyrus gallantly jumps through your window. Thankfully, it’s on the first floor, so he shouldn’t sustain any damage from the fall. Not-so-thankfully, the window was closed, so shards of glass go flying everywhere.
You heave a deep sigh as you head back to the pantry to grab a dustpan and brush.
“So…” The white lights of Sans’ pseudo pupils shift toward you. “Who says beauty’s only skin deep?”
“Shut the hell up, Sans.”