Happy (late) New Year, everyone! I know I made a post about this already, but thank you again for all the kindness and support! I’m really looking forward to writing more trash in 2018.

And the answer to your question, @paintyartz. This gay:

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“heya, edgelord. mind if i join you?”

Edge warily glanced up at Stretch
from where he was reclined on the sofa. He pulled himself into a sitting
position, gripping onto the couch’s arm to steady himself. “What do you want,
Ashtray?” His eyes travelled to the cigarette between Stretch’s fingers, and
his sockets narrowed in disgust. “Ugh. Put that thing out.”

Stretch’s expression conveyed
nothing beyond mild amusement, which only served to spark the irritation within
Edge. “i need a favour,” Stretch said, dropping onto the sofa beside Edge, who
regarded him with distaste. He opened his mouth to protest, but Stretch raised
his hands in mock surrender. “hey, alright—putting it out.” He smirked as he
stubbed the cigarette out on the sofa’s arm. The gesture did little to ease
Edge’s annoyance, but his anger was all but forgotten as Stretch slung an arm
over his shoulders.

Edge tried not to appear
perturbed, but he could feel heat rapidly rising to his cheekbones. Looking
away, he quickly snatched up an abandoned glass of champagne from the coffee
table, downing it without hesitation. Stretch’s arm was still around his
shoulders, and the vague questioning amusement in his features was certainly
doing Edge no assistance. “Why would I do you a favour?” Edge muttered, casting
his eyes downward and trying to will away his blush. “I… dislike you.”

The sound that came out of
Stretch’s mouth was somewhere between a scoff and a snort. When Edge looked up
though, he was grinning. “you don’t even know what it is,” he pointed out,
cocking his head. His golden eye-lights were sparkling with mischief—at least,
Edge was fairly certain it was mischief. He was struggling to focus on Stretch’s
face, swaying slightly under his arm. He must have been silent for too long,
because hints of laughter began to appear in Stretch’s eyes. “heh… how much
have you had to drink, edge?”

Snapping out of his stupor, Edge
tugged himself from Stretch’s grip. “That’s none of your damn business,
Swapshit. Now just—tell me what you want.”

Stretch looked hesitant, concern
mingling with the amusement in his expression. But slowly, his smile returned,
and he leaned in slightly to whisper, “i want you to kiss me.”

Despite the buzz of constant
chatter, it suddenly felt as if the whole room had gone silent. Edge quickly
glanced around to check that no one was watching them, before leaning in to
hiss, “You want me to what?” He
stared at Stretch, fingers clutched tightly around the empty glass he’d
forgotten to put down.

This time, Stretch really did
laugh. He rested a hand on Edge’s femur, and the glass in Edge’s hand
threatened to crack under the pressure of his grip. He hurriedly placed it on
the table before he could do it anymore damage. He was unable to discern
whether it was shock or reluctance, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to
remove Stretch’s hand. Seeming to sense this, Stretch smiled, and leaned in to
whisper, “yeah, you know—at midnight?”

“I know. But—” Edge swallowed,
scrambling for an excuse. Although… if he were to be completely honest with
himself, the idea of kissing Stretch really wasn’t utterly deplorable. Perhaps
he could do it—just for the sake of the new year. Still, a question itched
somewhere in his mind. “… why me?” he asked, softly, one of his hands tugging
idly at the drawstrings of Stretch’s hoodie. He glanced around the room at the
other monsters. His brother was enraptured in his conversation with Papyrus,
and Stretch’s brother seemed thoroughly engaged by whatever Slim was saying. He
could even see Sans and Razz shooting each other glances from across the room,
though neither seemed quite ready to approach the other yet.

Then it clicked in Edge’s head,
and he turned to look at Stretch, his soul slumping. “Oh, I’m… the only option.”
He couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his tone, and he noticed the way
Stretch’s face fell slightly as he spoke.

“oh—no. i mean, you are, but…” The
typical humour had left Stretch’s expression, and he withdrew his hand from
Edge’s femur, shaking his head. “sorry, we don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” Edge interrupted,
sharply. “I s’pose you’re my only option s’well.” His head had started spinning,
his words slurring slightly. Perhaps that last glass of champagne hadn’t been
the wisest of ideas. Still, he no longer held any qualms about kissing this
asshole, since it clearly didn’t mean anything. Best to get it over with. “How
long ‘til midnight?” he mumbled. It occurred to him that he still had his hands
twisted in Stretch’s hoodie—although perhaps it was more out of the need to
remain upright now than the need for proximity.

“five minutes.”

Edge hummed his acknowledgement,
slumping against Stretch and letting his eyes fall closed. “’kay… wake me up in
four minutes ‘n fifty-nine seconds then.” He chuckled to himself, almost
unaware of the feeling of Stretch’s arms suddenly wrapping around him. Almost unaware. He smiled a little.

He heard Stretch sigh as he
gently pried Edge off him. “alright, edgelord, i think it’s bedtime. come on.”

Edge mumbled incoherently in
protest as Stretch hoisted him up from the sofa, half-dragging him across the
carpet—presumably in the direction of the stairs. He heard his brother’s voice
somewhere to his right. “hey stretch, where’re ya takin’ my bro?”

“i—”

“’s gonna kiss me to sleep,” Edge
mumbled, giggling. He wrapped his arms around Stretch’s ribcage, pressing his
face into the crook of his neck. “Hmm, take me to bed, Ashtray.”

Edge could vaguely hear the sound
of someone snickering, but he couldn’t tell who it was. Somewhere behind him,
Red was speaking again, only his words seemed morphed together. He sounded…
concerned. “he’ll be fine,” Edge heard Stretch murmuring beside him. “he just
needs some sleep… and maybe some painkillers when he wakes up.”

Edge wasn’t sure how much time
passed after that, but the next thing he knew he was lying on top of the covers
in Papyrus’ bedroom. He knew it was Papyrus’ room, because when he stretched
his legs out too far, his feet came into contact with the foot of the racecar
bed. He vaguely recalled being partially carried up the stairs, and the
pleasant feeling of warm arms around him. But the arms were gone now. Which wasn’t
very pleasant.

Edge tried to sit up, but his
head was spinning, and a hand pushed against his chest, forcing him to lie back
down. “Nn—Stretch?” He blinked his sockets against the darkness, catching a
glimpse of hazy golden lights.

“i’m here,” Stretch said, voice
quiet.

A flicker of relief ignited in
Edge’s chest, and he smiled to himself, humming softly. “Stay. Please.” He
reached out a hand, and a moment later, he felt a set of fingers intertwine
with his own.

“i’m not going anywhere, don’t
worry.”

Edge’s soul blossomed with
warmth, and he reached up, clutching onto Stretch’s arm. “… lie with me?” he
asked, hesitant even in the midst of his inebriation.

Stretch was silent for a time,
and Edge started to wonder if he’d forgotten to say the words out loud, when
the covers shifted. Stretch clambered onto the small bed beside him, their
hands never parting. The size of the racecar bed made for a bit of a tight fit,
but Edge didn’t mind. If anything, he was suddenly grateful for Papyrus’
strange choice of bed; Stretch was pressed right up against him. They were both
quiet for a few minutes, the loud chatter and laughter still audible from
downstairs. “Don’ you wanna join ‘em for the countdown?” Edge asked at length.
Though truthfully, the last thing he wanted right now was for Stretch to leave.

Thankfully, Stretch only released
a small laugh, shaking his head. “nah, i’d rather hang out up here with you,
edgy.”

Edge silently preened at the
nickname. It was certainly a step up from ‘Edgelord’, and the way Stretch had
spoken it made him feel… fuzzy. Though in truth, it may just have been the
champagne. “’Cause I’m the only option?” he asked, tilting his head to meet
Stretch’s gaze.

A smile spread across Stretch’s
face, and he lightly pressed his teeth to the top of Edge’s skull. “maybe. but i
think i’d still pick this over anything else. doesn’t get much better than
cuddling.”

Edge could feel his magic buzzing
excitedly, and he buried his head in Stretch’s chest to hide his smile. “Don’t
you want to… kiss me?” he asked, quietly, cheekbones burning despite himself.

He felt Stretch’s teeth graze his
cervical vertebrae suddenly, and he shuddered. His mouth hovering inches from
Edge’s, Stretch whispered, “we can save that for valentine’s day.”

A small sliver of disappointment formed
in Edge’s chest, but he couldn’t muster any true disapproval of his situation. It
did feel awfully nice having Stretch in his arms. Downstairs, he heard the
others beginning the countdown.

Ten… nine… eight…

Almost subconsciously, Edge
pressed closer to Stretch, and he felt Stretch’s arms tightening a little
around him.

Seven… six… five…

Edge breathed in the sweet scent
of honey accompanying every one of Stretch’s gentle breaths. The smell was both
heady and relaxing.

Four… three… two…

“happy new year, edge,” Stretch
whispered, resting his head against Edge’s shoulder. Edge held him close.

One.

This felt like the right way to
start the new year.