AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12388203/chapters/29247162
Title: “Fuck the universe”
Summary: The universe has a twisted sense of humour. Sometimes it’s best just to ignore it.
Relationship: UF Papyrus/US Papyrus
Tags: fluff, confessions, cooking together (excited squeak!), cute stuff
Warnings (IMPORTANT): date-rape drugging, internalised self-loathing, threats of violence
This chapter is a bit of an emotional roller-coaster.
Word count: 7,375 (I did mention I was bad at keeping things concise)
Fell was just about to succumb to
sleep, his eyes drifting closed, when an invasive buzzing sounded, his pocket
vibrating. He groaned, shifting in the snow to reach for his phone.
Beside him, Swap stirred,
groggily glancing up through hazy eye-lights. “Ah, that’ll be our bros.
Probably should’ve told ‘em where we were going. Heh.”
Fell scowled, dusting the snow
off his pants as he rose, lifting the phone to his skull. “Red?”
“Boss? Where the fuck are ya?
Blue ‘n I just got to Muffet’s—she says ya threatened some guy then stormed
out!”
A twinge of guilt resonated
through Fell. Naturally, Red would be worried – Fell could hear the panic in
his tone. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, gathering his composure.
“Calm down, Red. I’m alright. I’m with the Ashtray, we were just…” Fell trailed
off, suddenly realising that there was no reasonable explanation for what he
and Swap were doing—none that he wanted to give, at least.
Fortunately, it seemed that Red
wasn’t too bothered by the exact nature of their activities, a sigh of relief
sounding from the other end of the phone. “Geez, Boss, ya scared me. I thought ya
might’ve lost it and…” The unspoken suggestion of Fell’s tendency to lash out
hung in the air, and Fell was bitterly reminded of his close call earlier this
evening. Thankfully, Red didn’t press the issue, and part of Fell wondered if
he was anxious that he would trigger one of Fell’s violent episodes by saying
the wrong thing. “So, uh, you gonna meet us here?”
Fell glanced down at Swap, who
was still leaning against the door, dozing lightly. He sighed. “No, I think I
should take the Ashtray home.”
For a moment, Red was silent, and
Fell feared he’d accidentally revealed something through his tone of voice.
Then a soft chuckle emitted from the phone. “Heh, since when do ya care about
Swap, Boss?”
Fell stilled, a frown creeping
across his features. “I don’t,” he said, voice tight. “But I’m not one to leave
a monster stranded in the middle of Snowdin Forest.”
Red scoffed. “Snowdin Forest?
Watcha doin’ all the way out there?”
Fell muttered a curse under his
breath, realising the hole he’d dug himself into. He scowled down at Swap, who
still had his eyes closed. “We were… walking. I needed to cool down after my—”
Fell coughed “—outburst.”
It was technically true, minus a
few small details. Thankfully, Red just gave another throaty laugh. “Heh, guess
there’s no better place ta’ cool down
than Snowdin Forest, eh, Boss?”
Fell’s grip on the phone
tightened, and he glared at nothing in particular, internally cursing himself
for handing that one to Red on a silver platter. “Is there a reason you’re
still speaking to me, brother?”
“Sorry, Boss, I snow yer too cool fer jokes like that,
but they just send chills down my spine.”
“Sans!”
“Alright, get the Ashtray home,” Red
said quickly, though there was still a trace of humour in his tone. “Blue ‘n
I’ll probably hang here for a bit. See ya later.”
“Take care of yourself, brother,”
Fell said with a sigh, before hanging up. He glanced down at Swap with disdain,
obstinately denying the fact that his soul warmed a little upon seeing the
gentle rise and fall of his chest. Still, he cleared his throat, bending down
to shake his shoulders. “Ashtray, come on, you lazybones. You can sleep at
home.”
Swap groaned slightly, shifting
under Fell’s grip. “Sure you can’t give me another five minutes, brat?”
Fell rolled his eye-lights,
shaking his head. “I don’t even have the patience for another five seconds. Get
up.”
With a little more coaxing, and a
few more begrudging grumbles from Swap, Fell managed to pull the lazier
skeleton to his feet. His soul stuttered as Swap draped an arm over his
shoulder, grinning up at him with false innocence. “Carry me?”
Fell blinked for a moment,
staring. He could feel his cheeks heating, and he bit down, trying to control
the magic readily flowing through his bones. Pushing Swap away, he muttered,
“Ugh no, asshole. You’re walking.”
Swap pouted, but the mischievous
twinkle didn’t leave his eye-lights. Without warning, he gripped Fell’s arm,
whispering, “Hold on tight, brat,” before the world was spinning around them.
Fell stumbled as they landed directly on the front porch of the Underswap
brothers’ home, taken off guard by the sudden short-cut. He immediately spun to
face Swap, fury burning in his eye-lights.
“What the f—don’t do that without warning me!”
Swap shrugged, brow bone raised
as he opened the front door. “I did warn you. I said ‘hold on tight’.”
Fell involuntarily clenched his
fists, before taking a deep, shaky breath to control himself. “You’re—” He
swallowed, reminding himself of what had happened when he’d allowed his anger
to get the better of him earlier that night. “You’re intolerable,” he hissed.
Swap only grinned, the
ever-present humour glinting in his eye-lights. “Yet, you tolerate me.” Fell
scowled, staring at the wooden planks as he kicked his boots against them to
get the snow off. For a few moments, a charged silence hung between the two
skeletons, an unspoken question seeming to hang in the air. Eventually, Swap
cleared his throat, gaze darting away from Fell briefly. “So, do you, uh, want
to come inside?” Swap shoved his hands in his pockets, and Fell heard the quiet
clicking of his lighter. He frowned, trying to assure himself that Swap wasn’t
at risk of setting himself on fire.
“I, uh…” Fell shifted awkwardly
between his feet. On one hand, he very
much wanted to come inside. Though he was still (ineffectually) trying to
deny it, he felt reluctant to part ways with Swap… for whatever reason. On the
other hand, part of him felt that maybe parting ways with Swap would solve this
tumultuous battle going on with his emotions. He certainly wasn’t ready to
confront them.
Fell only realised he’d hesitated
too long when Swap gave a quiet laugh, drawing his gaze back up. “Well, you
seem a little conflicted.” Fell was tempted to remark that ‘conflicted’ didn’t
even begin to scratch the surface. But his eyes were drawn to Swap’s pocket,
where he withdrew the small coin he’d been flipping earlier. “How about we let
the universe decide?”
Fell almost laughed. “Seriously?
The universe?” His brow bone was
raised in incredulity. “The universe has never been particularly kind to me—and
neither has that bloody coin.”
“Heh, hasn’t been so bad…” Swap’s
hand was twisting in Fell’s scarf, his gaze seeming to dart everywhere but
Fell’s face.
Fell could feel his magic buzzing
readily through him, and eventually, he cleared his throat, unable to withstand
the tension any longer. “Fine, just flip it.”
Swap finally glanced up, giving
Fell a small smile. “Heads you stay, tails you go?” Fell nodded, swallowing as
Swap flicked the coin into the air. “Heads,” Swap said, quietly, glancing at
Fell, cautiously, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
Fell nodded stiffly, trying not
to show how relieved he felt. “Fine. Guess I’m staying,” he said, trying his
best to sound reluctant as he entered the living room.
Swap chuckled softly as he shut
the door. “Please control yourself, Fell. There’s no need to get so excited.”
Fell simply scoffed, rolling his
eye-lights as he glanced around the room with narrowed eye sockets. Dirty
dishes and clothes were scattered over the furniture, the carpet littered with
old books and missing puzzle pieces. “Ugh. Would it really kill you to keep
this place clean? Why I even come here is beyond me.”
“Hey, Blue loves cleaning when he’s
drunk. I’m doing him a favour by messing it up. He’ll thank me for it later.”
Swap grinned, earning him another eye-roll. Fell’s gaze drifted to the
bookshelf beside the TV, soul jolting as his eyes landed on a familiar title.
Striding over, he carefully
extracted the thin book from the shelf. He tried not to smile, but found it
difficult as fondness crept into his soul. “Peek-a-boo with Fluffy Bunny,” he
murmured, quietly. Much like his own copy, the book was worn from use, a few of
the pages bent.
“Uh yeah, Blue reads it to me
sometimes,” Swap mumbled. Fell glanced up to see that he was blushing slightly,
gaze on the carpet.
Fell’s soul stung a little. “Red
used to read it to me too,” he said, putting it back. He could still remember
the day he’d told Red he was too old for bedtime stories. The look on his
brother’s face still hurt to think about.
“Oh,” was all Swap said, still
not looking up. For a few seconds, it was silent between them, and Fell
suffered a brief twinge of guilt for dampening the mood. Fortunately, Swap’s
weariness didn’t seem to last, because with a decisive cough, he asked, “So, do
you, uh, want something to eat?”
Fell quickly nodded, eager for a
change of subject. “Certainly. As long as you let me cook. It’s the least I can
do after…” Fell gave a vague wave of his hand. “Preventing us from eating
earlier.” He left the fact that he wasn’t eager to eat whatever Swap would be
able to cook unspoken, though he was sure the implication wasn’t completely
lost on the other skeleton.
“Heh, we’ll have to see,” Swap
said, as if he’d read Fell’s thoughts. He flicked the coin between his fingers,
and Fell frowned dubiously at it, as if it had wronged him somehow (he still
wasn’t entirely convinced it hadn’t).
“Ashtray. We are not leaving
my—or your, for that matter—life in the hands of that piece of Gold. If I’m
going to die, it’s not going to be because of food poisoning.”
Swap only smirked, doing little
to quell the rising sense of unease in Fell’s chest. “Come on,” he said,
gesturing for Fell to follow him into the kitchen. “Let’s see what we have.”
With no small amount of
reluctance, Fell trailed after him, deciding that—if worst came to worst—he could
just refuse to eat Swap’s cooking. As much as that might hurt his feelings—which, Fell reminded himself, he certainly didn’t care about—he wasn’t
quite ready to die. At least, not like this. He was grateful to see that the
kitchen at least, had been spared much of the disorganisation the living room
suffered. Though there were a couple of uncleaned dishes in the sink. Swap
wandered over to the pantry, scouring it, as Fell took a seat at the table.
“Huh, well…” Swap glanced around the cupboard, “it seems we don’t really have
the ingredients for much other than spaghetti.”
A small amount of relief washed
over Fell. He could work with that. “I can make spaghetti,” he said. “It’ll
do.”
Swap glanced over his shoulder, a
wily grin plastered on his face. “I can too.”
Fell scowled, crossing his arms
with a huff. “Swap, I’m serious—I will not eat your cooking. If you’re anything
like my brother—or like Papyrus—we will both die. You’re literally a
combination of the two worst cooks in our universes.”
“I’m flattered that you think I’m
anywhere near as great as Papyrus,” Swap replied, turning back to gather up the
ingredients. “But I promise you, if I win the toss, I’m not backing down.
You’re eating my food.”
Fell was genuinely starting to
panic. He thrummed his fingers on the table in an attempt to distract himself.
“Swap, I really don’t—”
With a sigh, Swap turned, dumping
the ingredients on the table. “Alright, fine, fine, I won’t force you to eat it,” he conceded,
sounding slightly downtrodden. “But… y’know—at least give it a try.”
Fell remained stiff, but sighed
with a reluctant nod. Of course, he had no intention of following up on his
half-promise. It wasn’t just his Underfell survival instincts kicking in.
“Fine. Flip the damn coin.”
Swap grinned, seeming pleased,
excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Heads you cook, tails I cook?” Fell grumbled
his agreement, scowling at the coin. Gods he hated that coin. His soul
stuttered slightly as it landed, and he waited for Swap to reveal the result, a
nauseous pit forming in his soul. “Tails,” Swap said, shooting him a grin.
Fell’s eye sockets went wide, and
he rose from his seat abruptly, pushing away from the table. “No,” he hissed, voice strained. “Flip
it again. And this time, I’m not calling until it’s in the damn air.”
Swap cocked his head, amusement
crossing his features. “What? You don’t trust me.”
“Not. In the slightest.” Fell was
almost surprised at himself, his voice lowered to a growl. Swap simply
shrugged, flipping the coin again. “Tails,” Fell half-snapped, when he was
certain the coin was high enough for it to be impossible for Swap to rig the
toss.
Fell’s soul dipped at the smile
that crossed Swap’s face as the coin landed for the second time. “Heads.”
Fell very nearly kicked his chair
over. “No fucking way. I will not stand for this!” He knew he was being
childish, but Fell was about as eager to test Swap’s cooking as he was to sleep
naked in Snowdin Forest. Maybe even less eager. At this point, he’d take the
latter if given the option.
Swap appeared to be trying very
hard to stifle his laughter, and even Fell’s irritation couldn’t dull the warm
feeling that bloomed in his soul at the sight. “Come on, Fell. It’s not as bad
as you think. I promise not to poison you.”
“Not intentionally!”
Swap sighed, shaking his head as
he surrendered to the giggles that escaped him. Taking a few (somewhat
cautious) steps towards Fell, he held up his hands, as if in surrender. “Okay,
since you’re clearly so against this, I will allow you to assist me. No backseat cooking.”
“That’s not even a thing!” Fell
snapped, though he couldn’t deny Swap’s offer brought him a small amount of solace.
“But—fine. I will facilitate the construction of this meal—and ensure that it does not kill both of
us.”
Fell flinched as Swap placed a
hand on his arm, offering him a suspiciously affable smile. “I thank you
graciously for your service, Lieutenant.” With a little grumbling, Fell allowed
himself to be guided toward the stove. Swap reached for one of the pots in the
sink, which was still filled with grungy water. Rinsing it, he placed it on the
stove, much to Fell’s disgust.
“No,” he said firmly, grasping
Swap’s wrist as he reached to turn on the stove. Swap raised his brow bone, dubiously.
“Wash. It,” Fell bit out, earning him a roll of Swap’s eye-lights.
“Who cares? I made spaghetti in
it last time. It was only like… a day ago.”
Fell had to take a moment to stop
himself from physically gagging. “No,” he
growled, with a little more fervour. “We are not eating out of that.”
Swap sighed, stepping back with
his hands raised. “Fine. You do it then. I’ll start chopping the vegetables.”
Fell gave a relieved sigh,
pouring a significant amount of dishwashing liquid into the pot before
scrubbing it with vehemence. He was trying not to think about how long it had
been since the pot had been properly washed. He glanced over his shoulder to
see Swap laying out a chopping board, before placing a couple of carrots on it.
With an irritated growl, he finished rinsing the pot, before drying his hands
and turning to Swap. “What are you doing?” he asked, exasperated.
Swap regarded him with a puzzled
expression, brow bone arched. “Uh… chopping the vegetables? What does it look
like I’m doing, idiot?”
Fell shook his head, grinding his
teeth together. “Peel them first.”
Swap laughed, before seeing the
expression on Fell’s face. “Wait—you’re serious?”
“Of course I am! Where is your
peeler?”
Swap shrugged, glancing around.
“One of the drawers, probably. Along with the rest of the useless stuff. Come
on, Fell, this is a waste of time.”
Fell shook his head, scavenging
the drawers until he found the small tool. “The food I eat must be of adequate quality—unpeeled
vegetables do not make for an adequate meal.” He nudged Swap away from the
chopping board, and began peeling the carrots. “Just—boil some water in the
kettle.”
Swap scowled, appearing less than
pleased at being side-lined in his own cooking. “Hm. Fine. Just remember who
won the toss, asshole.”
“Just trying to keep you alive,”
Fell muttered as he peeled. They worked in silence for the next few minutes,
Fell giving Swap a few menial tasks to do while he chopped the vegetables.
Eventually however, after a little nagging on Swap’s part, he conceded to let
his counterpart return to the vegetables (but not without close supervision).
Fell poured a small sprinkling of olive oil into a pan, before setting the
sauce to simmer with a few cloves of garlic. He leaned against the counter for
a moment, taking a deep breath. Okay, he seemed to have a handle on this.
He frowned as he suddenly noticed
Swap sprinkling something pale and blue over the chopped vegetables. “What—what are you doing?” he exclaimed with a
gasp, rushing over to pull Swap away.
Swap yanked out of Fell’s grip,
looking irritated. “Adding flavour, you asshole. Let me make my own damn meal.”
Fell gaped at the small blue
shreds of… he couldn’t quite figure out what they were. “What is this?” he
asked, examining the tub containing the odd ingredient.
“Uh… Echo Flower petals,” Swap
said, shrugging. “Blue and I wanted to experiment.”
Fell blinked. He’d seen the Echo
Flowers around Underswap and Undertale a few times. The whispering had
unsettled him at first, but over time he’d become used to it. But, not once had
he considered eating them. “H-how do
they taste?” he asked, giving the small pieces of flower a distrustful look.
“Well, if they tasted bad I
wouldn’t be adding them, would I, brat?”
Fell grumbled, placing the tub
back on the counter. The more sensible (Underfell) part of his mind was
screaming at him that it was a terrible idea to trust this addition. Yes, he
was (almost one hundred percent) certain that Swap wouldn’t attempt to poison
him, but even so… he couldn’t shake his instinctual feeling of doubt. But, as
he glanced up to see the look on Swap’s face—a strange mixture of irritation
and hurt—he couldn’t help but give in to the guilty lump in his chest. “Add it
once the vegetables are simmering,” he said, quietly. “The flavour will blend
in better that way.”
The way Swap’s face lit up was
almost instantaneous, and Fell’s soul clenched a little. He forced himself to
turn away, busying himself with adding the boiling water to the pot as he
turned the stove on. The remainder of the cooking procedure ran with surprising
smoothness, and Fell allowed himself (albeit hesitantly) to take a back foot in
the process, only giving pointers where necessary. He was a little taken aback
to realise that Swap actually seemed to know what he was doing—for the most
part. Fell was still reeling over the fact that he’d almost cooked the pasta in
an unwashed pot. “Since when do you cook?” he asked, as Swap added the
finishing touches to the sauce and vegetables. Fell had resigned himself to
taking a seat, certain that—should the kitchen set alight—he should be able to
get up on time to escape.
To his surprise, Swap looked
embarrassed, glancing away to focus on the pan, but failing to hide the pale
blush on his cheek bones. “Uh… Blue’s been teaching me,” he mumbled, adding a
sprinkle of salt to the pan.
Fell raised his brow bone. “Since
when?” He hadn’t realised Swap cared. He knew that his own brother would be
anything but eager to take cooking lessons from him; Fell had long ago accepted
that all responsibilities involving household chores would fall to him.
“’Bout a month ago,” Swap said,
shrugging. Fell was about to ask why, when Swap turned, hastily adding, “Food’s
ready.”
Fell held his gaze for a moment,
sensing there was something more to Swap’s eagerness to change topic, but he
decided to let it go, helping set the table. When they sat down to eat, Fell
waited a few moments for Swap to take the first bite. It was less because of
his mistrust of Swap’s cooking, and more because of the naturally ingrained
survival instinct, ever-present in his mind. After deciding that he didn’t have
anything to worry about, Fell hesitantly took a small bite, pausing for a
moment to allow the flavour to sink in. He swallowed, glancing up to find Swap
watching him intently. “H-how is it?” he asked, sounding apprehensive.
Fell gave a slow nod of his head
as he chewed his second mouthful. “It’s… good.” He cleared his throat, before
taking a third bite. “Very good. Colour me impressed, Ashtray.”
Fell didn’t miss the small smile
that Swap tried to hide by glancing away and shovelling another forkful into
his mouth. It coaxed a smile out of Fell himself, who had similar success in
hiding it. The conversation between them was absent for a few minutes, though
Fell found he didn’t mind. It was comfortable, and he was too enraptured by the
interesting flavour the Echo Flower added to the meal. After a time however,
Swap quietly said, “So… how are you feeling?”
Fell’s gaze snapped up, and he
narrowed his eye sockets. Swap had stopped eating in favour of surveying Fell
scrupulously, as if waiting for him to snap. Fell hated that look. He saw it
enough on his brother—especially recently. “I’m fine,” he said, stiffly. “And I
told you before—I don’t want to discuss my… behaviour from earlier.”
“And I’m not asking you to,” Swap
said, a considerable amount of collectedness injected into his tone. “I’m just
asking if you’re doing okay.”
Fell grumbled his disapproval of
Swap’s inquisitiveness, staring at his plate, appetite suddenly gone. “I’m…”
Under the table, Fell clenched his fist where it was rested on his femur, swallowing.
“I’ll be okay,” he said, hearing the strain in his own voice. “It takes time,
usually, for my magic to calm down.” While Fell was finding it more and more
difficult to deny the effect Swap had on his magic, part of his agitation could
irrefutably be boiled down to his LV. It was becoming increasingly taxing to go
without using his magic without snapping every now and then—the incident at
Muffet’s had hardly done him any favours when it came to keeping it reigned in.
“I know,” Swap said, quietly. “And—I
also know that… saying that LV is just a number is making something complex way
too simple, but…” Swap paused, sighing. “Well, when it comes to you, it
basically is—just a number, that is. You… You’re a good person, Fell. At
least—you try to be. And that’s what’s important. That’s what I l—” Swap
quickly broke off, clearing his throat. “Is there—can—can I help in any way?” he
stuttered, seeming hesitant to breach the question. “I mean—only if you want me
to; I don’t want to overstep—”
Fell shook his head, smiling.
“You have been helping me, actually. Our… arrangement has given me a bit of an
outlet, to put it bluntly.” A small part of Fell couldn’t help but wonder if
his sanity had been hinging on Swap this entire time.
Swap looked taken aback, blinking
for a moment. “O-oh.” His cheek bones had taken on a pale orange tint, and he
glanced away, nodding. “Okay.” Seeming unsure of himself, he rose from his
seat, quickly gathering up his and Fell’s plates, dropping them into the sink
along with the other dishes from dinner. He turned back to Fell, who noted that
his face was now a deeper shade of golden-orange than he could ever recall
seeing it. “Well, um, considering… what happened earlier… do you maybe want
to…” Swap was looking very flustered all of a sudden, and Fell frowned, finding
it strangely uncanny of the normally laid-back monster. Swap’s gaze flicked to
the kitchen door, before he quietly muttered, “We could, um, go upstairs and…”
Swap’s meaning finally registered
with Fell, and his soul flipped. “Oh,” was all he seemed capable of saying.
“Well, I—”
“It’s fine if you don’t want to,”
Swap added, quickly. “I mean, it’s no different from all the other times—I
just… never realised I was actually helping you… heh.” Swap was still looking
apprehensive, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his eyes seeming to focus
anywhere but Fell’s face.
But Fell couldn’t help the
traitorous thought that told him that—no, this was different from all the other times. It felt different, in any
case. So different. And he couldn’t understand it. Normally, things were so
easy with Swap. They met up, teased each other a bit, then fucked. And… that
was it. But now… this offer seemed to carry a significantly deeper meaning. It
felt like… a step forward, an admission to something with greater consequences,
more weight.
Fell found himself struggling to
answer. His words seemed caught, his ribcage constricting around his soul.
“Swap, I—I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”
But Swap was already shaking his
head, a small smile on his face. “I know I don’t. But I… I want to.”
Fell nodded stiffly, mumbling,
“Right,” before delving back into his battling thoughts. He knew how this must
look. Swap probably thought his hesitance was reluctance—but in truth, it was
anything but that. More than
anything, Fell wanted to go upstairs with Swap. To further… whatever this was.
Whatever it might lead to. He couldn’t seem to control his racing soul, or the
churning magic that couldn’t seem to decide how to direct itself.
“Hey, Fell, we don’t have to do
this, if you don’t want to.”
“I do want to,” Fell said hurriedly, before quickly snapping his mouth
shut. “I—I mean, I don’t know. I don’t…”
As Fell trailed off, staring at
the table, Swap walked over to him slowly, placing a gentle hand on his
shoulder. “You know, this is probably a terrible idea, but…” Fell glanced up in
time to see Swap extracting the coin from his pocket. “Flip on it?”
Fell couldn’t stop the surprised
laugh that escaped him. “You want to leave this decision to the universe?” He
stood, shaking his head, still laughing shakily. “Fine, what the hell.”
Swap smirked, though there was an
element of anxious energy behind the look, his eye-lights flickering dimly.
“Heads you stay… tails you go?” Fell nodded stiffly, hands twisting together as
he watched Swap flip the coin into the air. The seconds seemed to tick by
agonisingly as Swap turned his hand to reveal the outcome. Fell’s soul gave a
stutter of disappointment. “Tails…” Swap’s voice was barely a whisper, and Fell
ached at the look on his face, certain it mirrored his own.
They stood in silence for a few
moments, and while Fell couldn’t be certain, he was sure Swap’s thoughts were
similar to his own. His doppelgänger’s hands shook slightly as they held the
coin, and Fell swallowed, his magic almost burning
through his bones.
This shouldn’t be so complicated.
It should be easy. Simple.
Straightforward. The way Fell liked things to be. He liked having structure. A
set of rules to follow. And right now, the rules were telling him to walk away.
To listen to the universe—to leave.
But everything about staying felt
so right. So confusing, and complicated, and messy—the way Fell hated things to
be. But… it felt good. His soul seemed to light up in his chest at the
prospect. The thought of being with Swap just a moment longer sent a blaze of
excitement through him that felt too strong to ignore.
It was all too much. And Fell
couldn’t bear the anticipation a moment longer. Unable to withstand the
overwhelming urge for another second, Fell gripped onto Swap’s shoulders,
pulling him close. “Fuck the universe,” he growled, before pressing their
mouths together in a deep kiss. It felt every bit as right as he could have
hoped.
****
“Hey.” Fell glanced up in time to
catch the coin as Swap flicked it to him. “I have a new rule.”
Fell glanced at the small piece
of metal for a moment, turning it over in his hand before looking up at Swap. “Do
you now?”
“Yup. Rule number thirteen—no
more leaving it to the universe to decide what we do. That stupid coin is going
to cause us more grief than it’s worth. Fuck the universe.”
Fell chuckled quietly, nodding as
he shoved the coin in his pocket. “Wholeheartedly—fuck the universe.” He
shifted under the bed’s covers, so that his chest was pressed to Swap’s back,
silently relishing in the way they seemed to fit together so perfectly –
although perhaps it was the bliss of his post-orgasmic haze. “Honestly, nothing
says ‘fuck you’ to the universe like—well, fucking.”
The soft vibrations of Swap’s
laughter resonated through Fell’s chest, which practically glowed as Swap
shifted to press himself closer. “I believe you just made a pun, Fell.”
Fell scowled against the back of
Swap’s neck. “I most certainly did not. And if you bring it up again, you can
be sure this will be the last time we ever have sex.”
Fell knew it was an empty threat
if ever he’d made one, but Swap played along nonetheless, mimicking zipping his
mouth closed. “Consider these lips sealed.”
Fell was tempted to mention that
Swap didn’t actually have lips, but if growing up with Red had taught him
anything—it was that any comment relating to a skeleton’s biology was a trap
leading to some grand joke.
So, silence lingered between them
for a moment—a nice silence. A comfortable one. Fell subconsciously rested his
head on Swap’s shoulder, allowing his breath to tickle his counterpart’s cheek
bone. He almost flinched when Swap finally spoke, his voice low and already
sounding heavy with drowsiness. “It really does pay off not to listen to the
universe…”
Fell was more than inclined to
agree. His magic felt alive—and in the best way possible. He wasn’t buzzing
with anger or apprehension; he didn’t feel ready to snap. He felt… safe.
Content. At ease. It was as if the weight of his doubts had been lifted,
leaving only a glimmer of uncertainty.
That glimmer was still there,
though. This was new territory for him—he’d never felt… this particular emotion
in his life (at least, not at this magnitude), and the unknown frightened him. He
was sort of grateful for the elaborate set of rules they’d constructed; they
brought some sense of stability to this. Something to fall back on, should
things go awry. Fell knew it wasn’t completely reasonable—that if anything, he
should be discarding the rules and confessing to everything—but that part of
him that liked things to be simple, straightforward, and structured, was still
clinging onto those rules.
He breathed in the slowly fading
scent of Swap’s magic, still sweet in the air, and his soul squeezed. This felt
good. It felt right. And entirely too unreal, to think that the universe was
allowing him this moment—this completely untainted moment of happiness. He
swallowed against the tears that prickled at the back of his sockets, unwilling
to allow his own fragility to ruin this. He needed to retain his durability if
he was going to get through this without messing it up. He couldn’t allow
himself to crumble—not now, when he was so close to attaining… something good. Something
so good. Something better than
anything he’d ever dared to hope for.
(A small, cruel voice in his head
was whispering to him that he didn’t deserve this. After all, what had the
Great and Terrible Papyrus ever done to earn something so good? His LV alone
was enough to exempt him from ever deserving any peace of mind—any clarity in
his soul. The things he’d done, be it in the name of survival or not, could not
be forgiven this easily. The universe was playing a twisted trick on him—any
moment, and this would all be snatched away.)
But for now, Fell ignored that
voice. He ignored every worry warring in his mind, and allowed himself to enjoy
the silence, broken only by Swap’s deep breathing. Almost on instinct, he
wrapped his arms a little tighter around Swap, pulled him a little closer,
buried his face a little deeper into the crook of his neck—just in case the
universe decided to try and seize this from him.
****
For the second time that night,
Fell was awoken from his half-conscious doze by the rude buzzing of his phone.
He glanced down to see Red’s number, and with a groan (and considerable reluctance), he drew away from Swap, climbing out of
the bed and creeping out of the room before answering. “Red, what in the name
of—this is the second time you’ve
interrupted me tonight!” he hissed, keeping his voice low lest he awake Swap.
“What is this—”
“F-Fell, this is Blue. I—something’s
happened to Red.”
And just like that, everything
seemed to crumble. Every shred of stability, of repose, of contentment—was
wiped away. It was as if Fell had been struck, his soul feeling so tight in his
chest, he was certain he must be suffocating. The less reasonable part of his
mind told him that this was somehow his fault;
that he’d somehow angered the universe by allowing himself that single moment
of happiness. His hand clenched around the phone, and he strained to get his
words out. “Blue. What happened?”
“I—I don’t know. He was fine—and
then I turned around, and…” Blue trailed off, voice cracking. “F-Fell, I think
you should get over here. I—I don’t know if—”
“I’m on my way,” Fell said,
already at the front door. As the cold Snowdin air hit him, the warm afterglow
of Swap’s presence seemed to extinguish from his soul, leaving nothing but the
harsh cold he knew he deserved.
****
When Fell reached Muffet’s, Blue
was already waiting for him outside. He was feebly supporting Red, whose arm
was draped over his shoulders, his entire body slumped forward. “What happened?” Fell demanded, hardly
focused enough to keep his tone anything but brusque as he rushed towards them,
grabbing a hold of Red to keep him upright.
“I don’t know,” Blue admitted,
worry creasing his brow bone as he allowed Fell to examine Red. A brief
inspection told him that his brother wasn’t completely unconscious, his eye
sockets heavily lidded, but the dim flicker of his red eye-lights still
visible. He was groaning slightly, a trail of drool running down his chin.
Fell’s first instinct was to check for injuries, but a cursory once-over didn’t
reveal any. A quick check of Red’s stats showed no damage to his HP either,
which brought a great amount of relief.
Fell looked back up at his
brother’s counterpart from where he was crouched in the snow, and he could feel
the uncomfortable return of rage-fuelled magic swirling in his scarred eye
socket. “Blue, you need to run me through everything
that happened since you set foot in the bar—everything.”
The stars in Blue’s eye-lights
had all but flickered out, his features stricken with panic. With a deep breath
and a shaky nod, he dove into a quick run-down of his and Red’s activities for
that evening. Nothing seemed amiss, until he reached the part where they’d
ordered drinks. Fell narrowed his eye sockets, regarding Blue intently. “He…
didn’t drink anything?”
“Not much—only half a glass at
most. I was talking to someone and—and when I turned around, he was…” Blue
swallowed, shakily wiping away the tears pooling in his eye sockets. “F-Fell,
is he going to be okay…?”
But Fell was barely paying
attention, his mind reeling. A slow, sickening realisation dawned on him, and
his hands unconsciously clenched into fists as he rose from the ground. “Blue.
Take Red home—your home, I don’t want him in Underfell in this state. Get him
to bed. He’ll be fine.”
Blue opened his mouth, seeming
briefly lost for words. “H-he will? Fell, what—”
“Now, Blue,” Fell snapped,
causing Blue to flinch slightly. “Get him away from here. I trust you to take
care of him. Don’t—” Fell hesitated, trying to take a deep, stabilising breath
“—don’t come back here tonight.”
For a second, Blue remained
frozen, and Fell feared he’d have to reiterate for a third time. But then, as
if a switch had flicked in his mind, Blue seemed to spring into action, nodding
with a new sense of determination. He pulled himself up straight, lifting Red
into his arms with strength uncharacteristic of a Sans. “I’ll take care of him,
Fell. I promise.” He held Fell’s gaze for a moment, as if trying to discern
what his plans were. But he seemed to think better of it, giving one final nod,
before hurrying off towards his home.
The moment he was gone, Fell was
turning, eye-lights ablaze with wrathful magic. He pushed open the door to the
bar, storming inside with a deliberate sense of purpose. It was a lot emptier
than it had been earlier, many patrons likely having gone home for the night.
But Fell spotted who he was looking for almost immediately.
The Astigmatism he’d encountered
earlier that night sat at the bar, slouched slightly as if trying to remain
inconspicuous. Fell ignored the curious gazes he received as he marched
forward, every ounce of his remaining self-control channelled towards not
dusting the creature right here and now. It didn’t stop him from handling the
monster with more than necessary roughness. As he reached the bar, he took a
firm grip of the creature’s arm, yanking it off the stool. It gave a yelp of
surprise, a look of horror crossing its face as it turned to see him. “You’re
coming with me,” Fell hissed, feeling the flames of his magic curling from his
scarred eye socket. The monster opened its mouth in protest, but Fell leaned
forward, lowering his voice to a growl. “Any resistance, and I’ll dust you
right here. Consequences be damned.”
With a weakly concealed whimper,
the Astigmatism conceded, allowing itself to be dragged across the room,
stumbling to keep up. Just as it had been earlier, every set of eyes was on
Fell, but he didn’t have enough composure remaining to bring himself to care.
Every step he took was fuelled by fury, the temperament of his LV seeping into
his intent.
The Astigmatism must have been
holding back for the sake of appearances when inside the bar, because as soon
as the cold air hit them, it began writhing and screeching, trying to free
itself from Fell’s grip. But the Tale verse monster’s strength was pitiful in
comparison to Fell’s, and in mere seconds, he had it pinned to the wall, his
gloved hand choking it as he finally allowed his magic to emanate from him with
free, untamed rage. “P-please, don’t—!” The Astigmatism’s plea was cut off with
a gag as Fell tightened his hold.
“I don’t want to hear another
word from you,” Fell spat, utterly disgusted. “I don’t want to hear your
excuses, your justifications, your begging.
Everything about you repels me.”
The creature began to sob, fat tears leaking from its central eye. Fell
couldn’t even find it within himself to pity it, revulsion and fury dominating
his emotions. With a bland roll of his eye-lights, he sighed in contempt. “And
for my own sanity, do not waste my
time with your infantile weeping.”
“P-please—I… I d-didn’t—h-hurt
your friend—” The Astigmatism’s words were choked out between heavy gasps. “I
d-didn’t—”
“Oh, enough,” Fell griped,
boredom dripping from his tone. “I suppose you think what you did was
incredibly clever—wait until the intimidating monster leaves the bar, then drug
someone else. How unfortunate for you that that someone else happened to be my brother.”
Fell could feel the charge of his
LV, coursing through his bones as it powered his rage, infused into his magic.
And he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he’d snapped. He didn’t care that he’d
lost control. He didn’t care that everything felt cold and empty, the only
warmth coming from the hot, angry magic burning through him.
It was immensely satisfying
seeing the way the Astigmatism’s already large eye widened even further at
Fell’s revelation. A cruel smirk twisted its way onto his features. “That’s
right. So unlucky. Perhaps karma was working against you. Maybe next time you
should avoid spiking anyone’s drink entirely. But—oh.” Fell gave a low chuckle,
a cold sound devoid of any humour. “I suppose there won’t be a next time for
you.”
The creature’s whimpers and cries
began anew, as did its fruitless struggles against Fell’s grip. “Please—please,
I didn’t know—I didn’t know! I didn’t—” It broke off with a choked cry of agony
as Fell slammed its head against the wall, his sharp fingers tightening.
“You vile, sick piece of filth,” he snarled, magic flaring in the
air around him. “Creatures like you don’t deserve mercy. You deserve nothing. You’re worthless. Irredeemable. You don’t deserve to exist in this world.”
In times to come, Fell would
never be able to pinpoint exactly what triggered it, but in that moment, he
could almost hear Swap’s words in his head—‘You’re
a good person, Fell. At least—you try to be. And that’s what’s important.
That’s what I l—’
Fell’s soul seemed to freeze in
his chest, for the first time, unsure of how he wanted to proceed. More than
anything, he wanted to hear the end of that sentence. To hear the words that
would set everything right; cure him of this hatred. He wanted Swap to say
those words—unblemished by what he would think of Fell if he went through with
this. He wanted to allow the feeling of peace and tranquillity back in—to rid
himself of this burden of malevolence.
This desire warred with the other
part of him—the part still dominated by his LOVE. The part that had driven him
to make it his goal to destroy the creature still struggling under his grip.
The part overwhelmed by animosity—by disgust, hatred, wrath. Fell hated that
part of himself.
Hated that he couldn’t control
it.
Almost…
Marginally loosening his grip on
the monster, Fell reached into his pocket, retrieving the small coin Swap had
given to him. He only noticed that his hand was shaking when he tried to
balance it between two fingers. Levelling the creature’s gaze, Fell gave a shuddering
sigh, holding the coin up. “Since I’m feeling generous—I’ll leave your fate up
to the universe.” Fell was feeling anything but
generous, this was merely his last dash attempt at salvaging himself from
his crumbling stability—and his submission to his own LOVE. “Heads, you live.
Tails, you die.” Fell’s voice quivered slightly, the fierce determination from
moments ago lost in the conflicting battle between his two greatest impulses.
Hand still unsteady, Fell flipped
the coin into the air, the Astigmatism’s panicked gaze following it all the way
until it landed back on Fell’s palm. The skeleton glanced at it briefly,
swallowing and giving a hollow nod. “Tails it is.” He shoved the coin back in
his pocket, mind almost on automatic as he summoned an attack—a crimson bone
with its end sharpened to a needle-like point—charged with magical killing
intent. “Looks like the universe isn’t on your side.”
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