33 with spicyhoney (us paps/uf paps) if you dont mind

tyranttortoise:

33. I don’t care what people think.  I fell in love with you, not people.

Spicyhoney (Stretch/Edge)

They were staring again.  

Edge narrows his eyesockets, a growl emitting past his deep scowl.  The monsters finally get it in their inebriated heads that they should look away.  Stars, Edge hates being in Muffet’s.  Alcohol makes people brave.  Brave monsters think they can approach him.  

Brave monsters become stupid monsters, and it would take a fool to pick a fight with him.  Which is why he has to keep his guard up, even here–even in this vanilla timeline where everyone talks about kindness and hope.  He can’t afford to let himself grow as soft as them.  

“hey.  stop growling, will ya?”  

Someone kicks him under the table, and Edge jumps, fixing his glare on the perpetrator.  Yes, it would take a fool to test him, and the idiot in question is sitting across from him in the booth, a glass of honeymead clasped loosely in his hand.  His smile is as lazy as his demeanor, unflinching even beneath what most would call a withering stare.  

“I WILL WHEN THESE INGRATES CEASE THEIR GAWKING!” Edge shouts, clearly loud enough for the others to hear.  A warning.

It only draws more stares.  

Have these fools no sense of self-preservation?  

“why’s it matter?  they probably think you look neat.  like some kinda super villain.”

Stretch smirks, downing another long gulp of his drink.  Edge hasn’t even touched his slice of pie.  He still doesn’t look amused, so Stretch takes it a step further.

“or, ya’know… with the leather and the spikes, they probably realize you’re into some kinky shit.”

That does the trick.  Edge’s face flushes red, and he begins to indignantly sputter.  

“I–I AM NOT!”

“i can say with full confidence that you’re a liar. i mean, i’m the proof.”  

That smirk turns into a shit-eating grin, and Edge spears a bite of his pie with his fork so hard that the prongs scrape against the plate.  The grating sound is satisfying to Edge because he can see Stretch’s smile twitch.  Serves him right for calling him out–in public, no less!  

What if someone hears?  

Edge wasn’t growling anymore, at least, but he was still tense.  Stretch reaches out, and his fingertips touch Edge’s arm.  "you need to relax.  we’re here to get out of the house for a bit.“

Edge’s gaze drops to the fingers on his forearm, and then scans the room.

What if someone sees?

He pulls his arm away.  Stretch withdraws his hand and holds his gaze, his expression giving nothing away.  If there’s one thing Edge hates it’s the fact that he can’t read this version of himself, but Stretch can read Edge as well as Red can–if not better.

“what–”

But Stretch can’t even finish the sentence before Edge abruptly stands, turns on his heel, and heads out the door. There’s too many pairs of eyes on them, too many unknowns, too many openings.  They aren’t afraid of him here–not nearly enough.  They’re as foolish as the King Fool on his heels, following him out into the Snowdin cold.

Edge immediately starts for the house–for Stretch and Blueberry’s house, he reminds himself; this isn’t his world–but Stretch snags his arm.  He’s surprisingly strong for someone with such a low amount of LV.

“you’re worried about people, but i told you before.  it’s different here.”

Edge turns, but he’s always looking around, always hyperaware of his surroundings.  Stretch grips his scarf, tries to get him to focus on just him.  

“THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK, BUT IF THEY FIND OUT ABOUT US…”

His voice trails, becoming softer.  

If they found out Stretch meant anything to him, they would use that against him.  They could kill him just to hurt Edge.  Just like everyone targets Red.  

“i don’t care what people think, ya’know?  i love you, not people,” Stretch remarks, so casually, so openly, that it astounds Edge.  His eyelights finally stop flitting through shadows.  His mouth opens and closes, but for once, the captain can’t find the words. 

That wasn’t what he meant.  It doesn’t matter what they think; it matters what those people do. 

They’re standing outside of Muffet’s.  It’s dangerous–

But when Stretch tugs on the hem of his tattered scarf, Edge obliges.  He draws Stretch into his arms and holds onto him.  He’s still tense, still waiting for someone to come from the shadows and try to take everything away from him.

But he’d dust all of Snowdin if he had to for just a few more moments like this.