nyes – non-suspicious

lovebones:

this is a rehash of bro bone and i don’t even like bro bone anymore? i wanted to do something else entirely and then i got stuck on this???

When you’re about to enter your new home for the first time, Papyrus insists on carrying you across the doorstep. “Insists”, in this case, is a polite way of saying that you were just about to take your first step inside when he flanked and tackled you like there’d been a sniper lying in wait, leaving the neighbour he’d been talking to just three seconds earlier to drop her watering can in shock.

“WE HAVE TO DO THIS PROPERLY,” he says, “IT’S BAD LUCK IF WE DON’T,” and then he does it properly, bridal style and everything. "that’s just for newlyweds,” is one of the last things your poor, unsuspecting, well-meaning neighbour hears before the door closes behind you, and you catch a glimpse of the kind of bewilderment in her face that only tends to spur you on, and you finish a sentence that would’ve stood fine on its own with “and we’ve been happily married for years.”

You haven’t been, of course. You’re brothers, and you’re inseparable, and you’re comfortable joking around like that.

Inseparable.

It must’ve been five years since you made it to the surface, now, and everyone is finally going their own ways, finding places to settle down or taking advantage of the unfathomable amount of space that’s opened up for you.

You weren’t really thinking about where you should go. You were mainly thinking about where Papyrus shouldn’t go, and you came up with a list that consisted of one entry saying “anywhere with me”. He shouldn’t feel obligated to drag you along forever, you thought. He shouldn’t let you stop him from finding independence and success. A family outside of you.

You attempted to express as much in your usual way, with feigned nonchalance and stupid jokes and ominous implications, but then, Papyrus did an unexpected, brilliant thing. He cut right through it all.

A proposal, he called it. Just to complete the wedding metaphor, you suppose. He took you to your favourite hillside, right around sunset, and he just started… talking. Maybe that shouldn’t be such a remarkable thing, but all you could do was sit there, scared half to death of whatever this was, this openness, this thoughtfulness, this thing that, for countless reasons, had never been a thing you did.

You don’t remember everything he said, but you remember how serious he sounded when he looked up at the darkening sky – “I JUST THINK WE’RE MEANT TO TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER” – and over at you – “I JUST THINK WE’RE GOOD FOR EACH OTHER” – and down at your hand – “THAT’S ALL” – before taking it in his own.

And some part of you was almost offended that he could discard the intricate framework you’d built around each other so easily, that he could simply tear down useless-but-supportive-Sans and hard-working-but-oblivious-Papyrus in favour of good-for-each-other-Sans-and-Papyrus, and as you had that train of thought, you realised something crucial.

Papyrus has grown up in all the ways you never did.

Papyrus knows himself. Papyrus wants to know himself. Papyrus knows what he wants, and Papyrus wants things at all, and he makes informed decisions based on those factors.

You concluded that you had no right to question his choices.

You agreed to stay with him.