Hey @hachiquius, I’m your Secret Santa for @undertalesecretsanta! I’d like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to write some Mapleblossom. Papyrus and Slim are honestly such wonderful characters, and they don’t get enough love as a pair.

I hope your holidays went well and I hope you enjoy this! I pray that I did these two justice. They’re up there with my favourite characters as well  ❤

❤

Warning for intrusive thoughts (I’m sorry, I just… I can’t seem to stop myself from writing angst. Even for something this fluffy. If you’d like to avoid them, they’re all written in strikethrough text, so they’re pretty easy to skip!)

~below the cut~

---

Papyrus cast another weary glance
in the direction of the front door, still clinging to the glimmer of hope that
it might open at any second. Despite the vibrancy of the party around him, he
felt glum. He wandered across the living room with a sigh, pushing through the
crowds. He smiled at his guests as he passed them, but if felt forced, and he
was grateful when he made it to the empty kitchen.

Alone was the last place Papyrus
wanted to be. But somehow, being alone by himself felt a lot better than being
alone in a crowded room. He pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table,
resting his chin on his crossed arms. The clock on the wall told him it was
almost midnight, and Papyrus silently prayed it would come soon. Yesterday, he
would have given anything to fast forward time to the party. Now, he only
wanted it to end.

Papyrus jumped at the feeling of
a hand on his shoulder, startled by the sudden contact. He turned quickly, then
slumped as he saw who it was. “Oh—Sans. Hello.”

His brother smiled wryly, a drink
in his hand. Papyrus hoped he hadn’t had too much. His brother wasn’t renowned
for his alcohol tolerance. “heh, sorry bro. did i scare you outta your skin?”
Papyrus frowned at the pun, but found he didn’t have the energy to scold Sans
for it. “mind if i sit with you?” Papyrus shrugged his indifference, and Sans’
forced smile faded slightly as he dropped onto the chair beside him. He was
silent for a moment, but Papyrus could tell his brother knew what was bothering
him. “any word from…?” Papyrus shook his head, and Sans nodded, still smiling. “he’ll
show. don’t you worry.”

Papyrus swallowed against the
heavy lump forming in his throat, and shook his head. “Well… he hasn’t texted
me back since this morning, so… I’m beginning to have my doubts.” He stared at
the dark wooden table, one of his fingers tracing idly over the thin cracks.
Admitting it out loud felt like a blow to the chest.

Sans said nothing, but Papyrus
could feel the pity emanating from him. Papyrus hated being pitied, but he
didn’t protest as Sans placed an arm around his shoulders. He leaned into the
touch slightly, fighting back tears. “hey, it’s alright bro,” Sans murmured as
a silent sob escaped Papyrus. “you’ve still got a lot of people here who care
about you. i know you were really looking forward to seeing him, but…”

“He needs us, Sans,” Papyrus
said, his voice quivering slightly through the uncontrollable sobs that now
wracked his chest. “He doesn’t deserve that awful place he calls his home, and…
it’s Giftmas Eve. He should be happy on a night like this. I only want him to
know that he has people who care about him.” Papyrus frowned as he heard Sans
chuckling quietly. He pulled away slightly to glare at his brother. “Sans, is this
amusing to you? Because, really brother, I’m not in the mood for—”

“ah, sorry paps,” Sans said,
shaking his head. His laughter faded, and he looked up at Papyrus, smiling
sadly. “you just—you’re a lot like him, you know.”

Papyrus gave a slight frown. He
could almost sense the impending ‘you’re practically the same person’ joke.
“How so?” he asked, sniffing. “I do believe we’re rather different, Sans.”

Sipping at his drink, Sans waved
him off. “ah, don’t worry about it. you… you really care about him, don’t you?”

Papyrus blinked, before shaking
his head. “Well—yes, of course I do, Sans! He is very great! And my friend.
And—”

Sans grinned, cocking a brow bone
in dubiety. “friend? sure you didn’t want to lure him here just so you could
catch him under the mistletoe?”

Heat rose to Papyrus’ cheekbones,
and he quickly shook his head, flustered. “D-don’t be crass, brother!” He
sighed, standing. “I’m sorry, Sans. I fear I’m… not quite in the mood for your
jests. I think I’ll just return to the party.” Soul heavy, he turned to leave.

“hey bro?” Sans called as Papyrus
reached the door. Papyrus glanced over his shoulder, almost expecting another
jape at his expense, but Sans’ smile was soft. “he cares about you too, you
know.”

Papyrus was bewildered for a
moment, blinking. “H-he—well, yes! I know that! O-of course…” He trailed off,
turning to hide his blush. “I should get back…”

“he’ll come.” Papyrus glanced
back up. Sans’ eyes no longer held any of their light-hearted amusement, a
strange fierceness to his expression. “trust me on this, paps. if he cares
about you as much as you care about him…” Shaking his head, Sans gave a soft
laugh. “eh, what do i know?” He lifted his glass, the humour returning to his tone.
“’m just an old drunk.”

Papyrus shook his head, wrapping
his arms around himself. He wasn’t one to admit to needing help, but sometimes,
his brother’s comfort was much appreciated. His soul had warmed just a little
at the words, and he managed to produce a small smile. “Thank you, Sans… m-merry
Giftmas.”

Sans nodded, an alleviating sense
of understanding in his eyes. “merry giftmas, bro.”

****

Slim hesitated as he reached the
door, his hand trembling a little as he raised it to knock. There was a chill
breeze outside, and small flakes of snow had begun to fall. Slim didn’t mind
the cold so much—owing to his lack of skin—but he still felt grim, his soul seeming
to weigh too much. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to convince his brother
to attend Papyrus and Sans’ party. Razz was stubborn, refusing to abandon his
errands and paperwork, even for just a night. Errands? What an excuse! It’s your fault he didn’t come.

When his brother had declined the
invitation, Slim had felt dejected. Now he just felt empty. Lonely. A part of
him had hoped that the festive season might bring out the softer side of his
brother that he so seldom revealed to others—even to Slim himself. Perhaps it
was nerves, but Slim almost wished he hadn’t come. You shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have come.

He still wasn’t entirely sure why
he had bothered coming. He knew
Papyrus had likely only invited him to be polite—he wasn’t exactly much fun at
parties. No one wants you here. Still,
the thought of seeing the enthusiastic skeleton brought a little light to the dim
thoughts churning in Slim’s mind. Papyrus was always nice to him. And even if
he was just being polite, Slim liked people who were nice to him. Papyrus
especially…

He quickly gathered his resolve,
lifting his fist and knocking before his sudden confidence could wear off. He
could hear the sound of loud chatter and laughter from inside, the beat of
music playing in the background. Slim wondered if Edge and Red had come. He
knew they were closer with their Tale verse counterparts than he and Razz were,
but he also had a first-hand understanding of how difficult it could be coming
to a world so different from your own.

The mere idea of mingling with
the guests at this party almost frightened Slim. Social encounters had never
quite been his forte—even in his own world, where things made sense to him.
Perhaps he could try and stick close to Papyrus for most of the night. Clinginess isn’t a desirable trait. Don’t
be bothersome. Or perhaps he should just keep to himself. How disrespectful. At least attempt to interact.
He didn’t know many of Papyrus’ friends. Perhaps if Edge and Red were here,
he could… Typical. A whole world
of soft-hearted Tale verse monsters and you choose the only two Fell ones. You
truly are damaged. Anxiety suddenly gripped Slim’s soul, and his
thoughts became scrambled and panicked. You
shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have—

Slim turned away from the door,
hands clenched into fists where they were shoved in his pockets. He pushed down
the flicker of guilt as his fingers brushed the small, wrapped box he’d almost
forgotten about. Well. It didn’t matter now. He would have hated it anyway.

Just as he reached the porch
steps, he heard the door opening behind him. He spun, and his soul fluttered in
his chest as his gaze landed on Papyrus, who was standing in the doorway. A
broad smile crossed his face. “SLIM!” he cried, rushing forward and pulling Slim
into a crushing hug.

Slim immediately went rigid, the
sudden contact sending both excitement and shock through him. Papyrus neither
seemed to notice nor care though, keeping his arms tightly locked around Slim—perhaps
for just a few seconds too long. When he drew away, he was beaming, his
cheekbones bright and flushed. “You’re here!” Slim smiled weakly and nodded,
pushing away the thought of his brief escape attempt. “This is truly a
wonderful turn of events!” Papyrus declared, and Slim chuckled quietly, pressing
the back of his hand over his mouth. It was difficult not to respond in kind to
Papyrus’ unbridled jubilance. It’s not
genuine.

They both stood in silence for a
moment, Slim’s fingers fumbling over the small box in his pocket. He suddenly
felt nervous again. He could feel the pace of his soul quickening in his ribcage,
and he swallowed. Papyrus doesn’t really
want you here. He’s only being cordial because he’s too polite to ask you to
leave. He was probably hoping you wouldn’t show up. He’s probably disappointed
that you did. You’re far too rough around the edges. Far too damaged. Someone as remarkable as
Papyrus deserves so much better. Just make an excuse and leave. Leave. Leave
now. Leave—

“You… look, um… very nice
t-tonight.” Papyrus’ words broke Slim from his reverie, and he blinked,
glancing down at his ratty hoodie and faded jeans. Well. They were his best pair
of jeans (or rather, his cleanest pair).

“th-thank you,” he muttered,
feeling uncertain of himself. Before he could lose his nerve, he hurriedly withdrew
the box from his pocket and thrust it into Papyrus’ hands.

Papyrus looked a little startled
for a moment, pale orange blush still lingering on his cheeks. But as he met
Slim’s gaze, a smile quickly spread across his face. “Is this a gift… for me?”
he asked, voice abnormally quiet. Slim nodded, his own smile tugging at the
corners of his mouth. He rolled his shoulders, shrinking a little into his hood.
He could feel the beginnings of a blush rising to his cheekbones. Hide it. You’ll look like an idiot if he notices.
Ecstatic, Papyrus quickly removed the wrappings, peeking beneath the lid of the
small box.

Slim couldn’t help but glance
away. He hates it. But Papyrus’
joy immediately became apparent as glee coloured his features in the shape of a
broad grin. Slim looked up as Papyrus extracted the small red toy car from its
box, eye-lights going bright. “Slim, it’s—exquisite!”

Slim couldn’t suppress his
sheepish grin, and he averted his eyes. “sorry…” he murmured, softly.

“Sorry? Slim—there is no need to
apologise! This gift is—”

“the garbage dump didn’t have any
in your size.”

Slim dared a glance up and
watched as Papyrus’ expression morphed from confusion, to suspicion, and finally,
into downright disgust. He hates it.
He hates it. He hates you. But
despite his outrage, it was difficult not to notice the small smile Papyrus
appeared to be trying very hard to hide. “Slim,” Papyrus started, a strain to
his voice. “My dear friend—as great as you are, I am afraid I cannot tolerate
such lazy jokes. You know very well that they drive me up the wall.”

Slim blinked, but before he could
open his mouth to react to what he was certain had been a pun, Papyrus’ arms
were around him again. “Thank you for the gift. I shall cherish it with true
fondness.”

Slim was stunned for a moment,
freezing. He felt unsure of himself again, a cold trickle of doubt emerging in
his soul. That voice inside his head whispered to him again. He doesn’t mean it.

But… surely such a pure display
of compassion couldn’t be false? When Papyrus hugged him, it felt… It felt a
little like sitting in front of a warm fire. Or drinking a nice hot mug of
Muffet’s secret hot chocolate recipe. Or falling asleep to the sound of gently
pattering snow on the roof. Slim wasn’t sure such a feeling could be faked.

Drawing on every ounce of his
courage, he returned Papyrus’ hug, resting his head on the exuberant skeleton’s
shoulder. A pleasant warmth settled in his chest, easing his misgivings—just slightly.
He closed his eyes, and revelled in the feeling of Papyrus’ arms. It wasn’t
often that Slim was allowed to feel at peace. To relax and indulge in the
sweeter things in life. Like chocolate. And singing while he cooked. And
hugging Papyrus. They were all things he wanted to get used to. You don’t deserve them.

“Are you happy, Slim?” Papyrus
asked. His voice was soft, and his proximity sent a small shiver of tranquillity
through Slim. The question was strange, Slim thought. It was so direct. Unveiled.
Papyrus wasn’t trying to trick him. This wasn’t a game. There was no deceit,
only pure honesty. Papyrus genuinely wanted to know.

Lie.

Slim wouldn’t lie to Papyrus. He
owed him the truth. “not always.” The admission somehow seemed to marginally
alleviate the burden of Slim’s soul. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he
felt Papyrus’ arms tightening around him.

“And now?”

“now, i’m happy.” The words came
easily, and they didn’t feel like a lie.

Papyrus was silent for a time,
but his arms still enclosed Slim, the intent behind the embrace pure and
unmarred. Slim could hear his soft breathing, and the sound of the gentle wind
accompanying it. Eventually, Papyrus sighed deeply, and Slim felt him nodding. “Good.
Then I won’t let go.”

Slim suddenly realised he was
crying, and for a brief second, he startled, going tense. His tears stained
Papyrus’ scarf, and he sucked in a sharp breath, an apology already forming in
his mouth.

But then he felt a faint glimmer
of magic emanating from Papyrus; almost intangible projections of kindness,
warmth, care. Slim couldn’t tell if they were involuntary, but he felt
something unknot itself in his chest. He closed his eyes, and pressed himself
into the nape of Papyrus’ neck. “merry giftmas,” he whispered, not bothering to
hold his tears back. They were the good kind of tears. Perhaps not happy ones,
but good nonetheless.

The surge of energetic magic that
flowed through Papyrus was almost immediate—too powerful not to notice. There
was only one emotion present in it, and the feeling of it was almost enough to
make Slim’s soul glow. Love.

He cares about you, said
the voice, and it’s real.