Sixteen Rules

Okay, so I just put this in the endnotes on AO3, but my need for finality and tying things up compelled me to make this post on here as well. This is mostly just for my own archives and stuff, but here are all the rules!

(Below the cut. Warning: some are NSFW)


1.     
No telling our brothers

2.     
No sleeping in the same
bed

3.     
No getting attached

4.     
No soul stuff

5.     
No tying me up

6.     
No doing it in the kitchen

7.     
Don’t rewatch the tape

8.     
No coming on my face
without warning

9.     
Always reciprocate when it
comes to oral

10.    No smoking before or after sex

11.    No getting drunk before sex

12.    No sex in public

13.    No more leaving decisions to the universe

14.    No asking personal questions

15.    No keeping things to yourself

16.    No falling in love

Some of the ones towards the end were improvised because I went completely off plan and had to try and shove some in at the last minute.

I think something I like about having the rules all laid out like this, is that you can sort of see the progression of Fell and Swap’s relationship. The three golden rules are very much to avoid attachment or ‘seriousness’ in their relationship. Then there are some necessary ones (involving kinks and whatnot) that are more just ground rules. Then slowly, they start to become more personal, and the later ones (especially the last couple) are last ditch attempts at stopping their relationship from turning into something deeper.

Anyway, I’m rambling – just wanted to post this here!

Sixteen Rules – Chapter Eight

This is the final chapter, guys! But before I get into this, I just have to say a massive thank you to everyone who has supported me throughout this fic. I cannot iterate enough how much it keeps me motivated and helps me get through all the struggles of writing.

I’m glad to say I can finally tick this one of my giant list of WIPs (every-growing, rip). So, without further adieu – please enjoy the longest chapter yet! No warnings necessary (mild intrusive thoughts, maybe, but it’s quickly snuffed out. this one is very fluffy).

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12388203/chapters/29654856

Title: Rules are made to be broken

Summary: Fell knows that Swap loves him, he just needs a little more convincing before he actually believes it.

Relationship: UF Papyrus/US Papyrus (and another surprise ship!)

Tags: smut, mild angst, soul sex, FLUFF (warning: this chapter is nsfw!)

Word count: 7,426 (sorry?)


Fell couldn’t recall ever having
experienced a feeling of such ecstasy. The sound, feeling, and smell of Swap
seemed to dominate his senses, eliciting a burning in his soul, which he could
feel glowing in his ribcage. Their magic twisted together in a heated kiss,
doing next to nothing to satisfy Fell, only intensifying his desire for more.
He wrapped his arms around the back of Swap’s neck, pulling their bodies flush
together, so that he could feel every movement Swap made, every tingle of magic
that ran through his body.

Swap moaned softly, the sound
muffled by the close press of their mouths, and Fell took it as a cue to push
forward, trailing his hands down Swap’s spine. He was rewarded with a series of
shivers, Swap’s fingers gripping delicately onto the back of Fell’s shirt as
their kiss deepened. He could feel Swap’s magic, like a warm electricity
buzzing in the air, and he allowed it to envelop him, giving in to the feeling
of contentment it channelled into his soul.

Trailing his tongue over Swap’s
jaw, Fell began to nip gently at the bones of his neck, evoking a string of
short gasps from the other skeleton. He smiled against Swap’s vertebrae, breath
ghosting over the jagged bones. “Am I right in assuming you want to do this
here?” he asked, fingers hooking under the waistband of Swap’s pants.

“Heh, you know I’d fuck you
anywhere, Fell, but…” Swap paused for a moment, breath catching as Fell dipped
his fingers lower. “But—uh… I would’ve thought—being the f-fussy little brat
you are—you would’ve wanted this to be… perfect.”

Fell paused for a moment, his
hand itching to continue its exploration of Swap’s bones. But instead he
glanced up, meeting Swap’s gaze. There was no hesitance in his eyes, no hint of
reluctance or second-guessing. In fact, their golden colour seemed brighter,
and his cheekbones were flushed. Fell leaned in, cupping his jaw and kissing
him delicately, as if anything more might be enough to break the absolute
sublimity of this moment. He shook his head as he drew away, smiling. “This is
perfect. This is…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. “This is everything I
could ever ask for.”

He kissed Swap again, this time
with a greater sense of urgency, his tongue persistently exploring every inch
of his mouth. His hands began to roam over Swap’s ilium, creeping lower as
their kiss intensified. Swap hummed softly, and Fell couldn’t stop himself from
releasing a small whine of reluctance when he slowly pulled away. “Didn’t we
have a rule about fucking in the kitchen?” Swap asked, gaze flickering around
the room with a smirk.

Fell narrowed his eye sockets,
observing Swap for a moment before allowing his hands to rest on his iliac
crests. “To hell with the rules—I’m fucking you here.”

Swap grinned, eye-lights
glinting. “Really? I mean—I’m not opposed, but honestly Fell, it’s a little
unhygienic, and—”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Fell growled, fingers scraping over the smooth
bones of Swap’s hips as he switched their positions. He managed to draw a sharp
inhale from Swap as he spun them around, pinning Swap to the counter so that he
was unable to move away, completely susceptible to every ounce of attention
Fell was lavishing his bones in.

Fell could practically picture
Swap grinning above him as he dipped his head once more, releasing a sigh of
satisfaction at the feeling of Swap’s hand on the back of his skull. “Fell,
hmm…” Swap breathed heavily as Fell’s sharpened teeth caught on the bones of
his neck. “If I’d known you’d get like this… I would have—t-told you sooner…”

“Fuck, I love you,” Fell
breathed, “I love you so fucking much.” The words brought wave upon wave of blissful
relief to Fell every time he spoke them, his soul almost swelling in his chest
at the soft sweet nothings spilling from Swap’s mouth as Fell doted on every
inch of him.

“Hah, Fell… I need you… please…”
The words were spoken quietly, but there was a hint of desperation to them, a
need that Fell couldn’t deny he was feeling too. He clutched onto Swap
insistently, trying to gather enough composure to look him in the eye.

“Bedroom. T—take us there, now.”

Amusement crossed Swap’s
features, though the itching desire was still apparent beneath. “What happened
to ‘I fuck you where I like’?”

Fell rolled his eye-lights,
Swap’s teasing seeming to snap a little sense back into him. “You were right.
This is terribly unhygienic.”

Swap blinked for a moment, his
grin broadening. “Did you just say… that I was right?”

“Love does strange things to
you,” Fell said, deadpan. “Besides, this is more like lovemaking than fucking,
since we’re…”

“In love?” Swap suggested, releasing
a small laugh. The part of Fell’s mind that still found Swap irritating to no
end was telling him to chastise the lazy skeleton for his half-hearted pun, but
just hearing the confession ignited such a deep, sudden longing in his soul,
that he found himself pressing forward and enveloping Swap in an urgent kiss
instead. Swap released a small noise of surprise, which quickly devolved into a
soft sigh as Fell cupped the back of his skull, drawing him closer.

Allowing his eye sockets to fall
closed, Fell melted into the kiss, letting himself relax for a moment. In the
back of his mind, a small voice was still telling him that things weren’t
perfect. That he was still a killer, and that Swap still disapproved of that
small detail. But right now, it was very easy to ignore that voice. To let
himself believe that Swap really did love him, despite the LV that still
tarnished him.

When they parted, Swap was
smiling, and that look alone was enough for Fell. “I love you too, you know.”

Fell found it easy to return
Swap’s smile, and he shook his head. “I know. Now hurry up. I’m horny.”

Swap grinned, pulling Fell
closer, that glint of teasing in his eye-lights. “Short-cut?” Fell’s nod of
agreement was stiff, though he had to admit, he was glad Swap was asking his
permission for a change. Still, he squeezed his eyes shut as the world swirled
around them. Despite the mood, he knew he’d never grow to enjoy teleportation.
The dazed feeling was quickly wiped from his mind as Swap’s hands dropped to
his belt, making quick work of the buckle.

“No more foreplay?” Fell asked,
regarding Swap with amusement.

“Fell, these past two months have
been enough foreplay for me. Just fucking make love to me.” Fell’s cheekbones
heated in spite of himself, and he swallowed against the magic pooling in his
mouth, letting Swap guide him to the bed. He fumbled slightly with Swap’s
pants, shaking a little with nerves and anticipation. This felt different
somehow, and he couldn’t dispel the intrusive thoughts telling him that this
happiness he was feeling was as fragile as spun glass.

Somehow sensing his anxiety, Swap
tilted his chin upward, their gazes meeting. They were both silent for a
moment, but the soft smile Swap was giving him sent a soothing wave of calm
over Fell. He allowed himself to be shifted into a reclined position, Swap
situating them side-by-side. Even in the midst of the charged sexual tension,
Fell found himself enjoying the moment of stillness; the absolute tranquillity
that he was so unused to.

He felt Swap’s hand trailing down
his spine toward his pelvis, and his mouth was suddenly occupied again, Swap
pressing against him with a renewed fervour. Fell’s breath caught as Swap’s
hand brushed his cock, already hard beneath the confines of his pants. He could
feel Swap grinning as he nipped gently at Fell’s tongue, fingers curling around
the appendage, thumb rubbing smooth circles over the head. “I’d be lying if I
said I hadn’t missed this,” Swap murmured, dragging a phalange along the length
of Fell’s cock.

Fell did his best to withhold his
whimpers, but the taste of Swap’s magic, combined with the feeling of his
practiced hands working his cock, was enough to draw a few strained gasps from
him. Not wanting to be outdone, he dropped a hand beneath the waistband of
Swap’s pants without warning, finding his cock already leaking precum. The
quiet hitch of Swap’s breath as Fell gripped it tightly sent an immense amount
of satisfaction through him, and he trailed his tongue down Swap’s jaw as he
began pumping his cock. “Hmm, I agree—you always make the most delicious sounds.”
Fell’s words were rewarded with another poorly concealed moan from his
counterpart, and Fell chuckled, nuzzling into the nape of Swap’s neck, before
grazing his teeth over the sensitive vertebrae.

“F—Fell… shit…” He could feel
Swap slowly falling apart beneath him, his own movements on Fell’s cock
stuttering slightly. With a deep groan of contentment, Swap tilted Fell’s head
again, kissing him with an insatiable longing, heated enough that Fell had to
grip onto the back of Swap’s neck, as if to hold himself steady.
“F-faster—Fell, please—ah, I’m s-so close…”

Fell could feel his own climax
impending as well, and hastily quickened his pace on Swap’s cock, pumping it
with an almost salacious need to draw more of those wonderful sounds from Swap.
Whining and panting without restraint, Swap clutched desperately onto Fell,
fingers digging into his shoulder as his own movements on Fell’s cock became
faltering. “Oh—fuck,” Fell groaned, pressing his forehead against Swap’s
shoulder. “Fuck, I love you, Swap—I love you so much, please—come for me… let
me hear you.”

His face buried against Fell’s
neck, Swap cried out, releasing his magic onto Fell’s hand and staining the bed
sheets. “Ah—Fell… I love you… I l-love you…” Swap trailed off into a string of
incoherent whispers and gasps. The words alone were enough to tip Fell over the
edge, and he groaned as he came, losing himself in the delirium as he breathed
in the scent, the feeling, and the taste of Swap, his soul threatening to burst
through his ribcage as it pounded heavily.

They both lay for a few minutes,
still wrapped in each other’s arms, their combined magic smattered over their
bones. Swap’s heavy breathing sent Fell’s mind into a deep lull of euphoric
peace, and he let his eyes fall closed as he pulled Swap closer. “You’re perfect,”
he breathed. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Swap’s chest heaved slightly with
gentle laughter, and he pressed a light kiss to Fell’s neck. “I can’t vouch for
that, but… you’re almost as good at making love as you are at fucking.”

Fell huffed, giving Swap a gentle
shove, but he was struggling to hide his smile. “I’m excellent at both,” he
mumbled, and Swap grinned. They were silent for a moment, and the pleasant haze
of Fell’s mind began to clear as he gazed at the ceiling. “You know,” he
murmured, resting his hands on his still heaving chest, “if we’re going to… be
in love and all that crap—”

“You always had a knack for
pillow talk, Fell.”

“—then,” Fell continued, pointedly ignoring Swap’s jab but shooting
him a glare nonetheless, “there’s something we should do.”

Swap shuffled closer, slinging an
arm over Fell’s chest and resting his skull against his shoulder. As much as
Fell enjoyed being intimate with Swap, he couldn’t refute that this was his
favourite part. The stuff that came after. The way everything seemed so serene
around them, the closeness he felt to the other skeleton. His soul still
emitted a pale crimson glow through his shirt, and he couldn’t discern whether
it was caused by their recent activities, or just the simple fact that he felt
so safe and warm with Swap curled up against him. “You suggesting we fuck after
we make love, to balance it out?” Swap asked, breaking the peaceful silence.

“Ugh, asshole, no,” Fell grumbled, elbowing Swap in the
ribs. “And stop saying ‘make love’—you’re wearing it out.” Swap was looking all
too pleased with himself, grinning up at Fell with that teasing glint in his
eye. Fell gave a lingering sigh, shaking his head. “I think we should…” he
trailed off, swallowing heavily. There was still a small part of him that
seemed to be fighting this. Even in this moment—this perfect moment—he felt too
vulnerable. Too open and exposed.

Trust wasn’t something that came
easy to him. Letting himself feel something more than wariness, or that
protective urge that seemed to ignite any time he was around people he cared
about—was strange to him. It felt… almost wrong. Out of place. Unfamiliar.

But at the same time, it was
exhilarating. The feeling of exposure was accompanied by one of safety. The
fear of the unknown also conjured an excitement within him—an almost
intoxicating need to further explore this, to bear his soul, and just let
everything go.

“This is a very long dramatic
pause.” Swap’s amused tone broke Fell out of his reverie. He glowered down at his
irksome counterpart, who was still smirking, his hands tracing idle patterns
over Fell’s ribs. “But please, continue to hold me in suspense.”

Fell rolled his eye-lights, but
didn’t push Swap away this time. In truth, his proximity brought a sliver of
comfort in the face of something Fell still wasn’t entirely certain about. “The
rules…” he said, quietly. “I think we should…”

He still felt hesitant. In spite
of everything, he was still clinging to the rules in some way. Even though he
felt no real desire to abide by them, they provided that stability and
structure he so desperately needed. They almost allowed him to believe that
this wasn’t real. That he was still safely guarded behind his walls. And he loathed
the small part of him that still wished he was. The part of him that was still
afraid.

He almost flinched when he felt
Swap lacing their fingers together. He glanced down to find Swap looking at him
with sincerity, that small playful smirk still present. “I think we should,
too,” he said, his hands stilling where they were rested on Fell’s ribcage.
“Are you ready?”

For a moment, Fell couldn’t
speak. He hated that he still had doubts about this. That he was almost
reluctant to allow himself to feel this happiness—that deep down, he still felt
that he didn’t deserve it. But as Swap observed him patiently, squeezing Fell’s
hand slightly, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. Nodding, he said, “Yes.
Yes—let’s break the rules.”

Swap sat up, grinning. “Awesome.
I can think of one or two I’d like to smash into pieces—but, uh…” He grimaced
slightly, giving Fell a dubious look. “You do remember rule number one, right?”

Fell frowned, nodding slowly with
a scowl. “I do recall.”

“And you really want to tell
them?”

Fell closed his eyes, clutching
Swap’s hand a little more tightly. As much as he’d rather avoid this impending
conversation, in his mind he knew it would help cement this for the part of him
that still had its doubts. “Yes.” He sighed, already feeling the early signs of
regret creeping up on him. “As much as it pains me—yes, let’s tell them.”

****

“Ya owe me twenty G, Berry. Cough
up.”

Fell and Swap exchanged a look of
incredulity, before glancing back down at their brothers. Blue was looking
miffed, arms folded across his chest as he scowled at Red, who leaned back in
his chair, placing his feet on the kitchen table. But—somehow—neither of them
seemed surprised at the news Fell and Swap had just broken. “You—you knew?” Fell spluttered in bewilderment.

Red glanced at him with a shrug,
looking all too pleased with himself, gold tooth glinting as he grinned.
“C’mon, Boss. ‘Coolin’ off in Snowdin Forest’? Pfft, heatin’ up’s more like it,
am I right?” That earned him a rough smack to the back of the skull, and he
grimaced, rubbing it as Blue reluctantly handed over the coins. “’sides. I saw
the look on yer face when ya saw ‘im in the livin’ room this mornin’—ya don’
even give me that look.”

Fell frowned at his brother,
deadpan. “Considering our involvement with each other is not romantic, Red—one
would certainly hope not.”

Red was still looking
frustratingly self-satisfied, continually shooting Blue smug glances. “So, how
long’ve you two been datin’ then? Me ‘n Blue started ta notice stuff ‘bout a
month ago, but I know what yer like, Boss. Takes more than a few trips ta the
bar to get ya ta warm up.”

Fell noticed Swap sending him an
awkward glance, before clearing his throat. “Well, um, we haven’t quite been…
dating.”

To Fell’s surprise, Blue seemed
to perk up at this, turning his attention to his brother. “You weren’t dating?”
he asked, eye sockets narrowing slowly. “Then… what were you doing?” Blue was
observing Swap very astutely, and Fell frowned in suspicion.

Swap was looking flustered
however, glancing at Fell in a silent plea. But Fell was about as eager to
answer Blue’s question as Swap was, and held his silence, giving Swap a
deliberate look. Scowling, Swap turned back to his brother, mouth tugging into
a very forced looking grin. “Well. Uh, we’ve just been…”

“You were sleeping together,
weren’t you?” Blue asked, a grin on his face.

Swap spluttered, looking
scandalised. “N-no! Well… yeah. Yeah, we were. Just a little.”

“Almost on a daily basis,” Fell
murmured, earning him a shove from Swap. He noticed his brother’s face falling,
horror crossing his features. “Is there a problem, Red?”

Red shook his head, swallowing as
his cheekbones paled. Blue glanced at him, suddenly seeming very pleased with
himself. “I’ll take that back!” he declared, gathering up the coins he’d just
handed Red. “And—I believe you owe me a date!”

Beside him, Fell saw Swap startle
slightly, his eye sockets going wide as he stared at his brother. “You—you and
Red are dating?” he asked in disbelief.

Blue’s grin broadened, and he
threw an arm around a very disgruntled looking Red’s shoulders. “Not yet! But
given the outcome of our bet—we will be very soon!”

Fell couldn’t help the smile that
crept onto his face as he regarded the two shorter skeletons. Swap still looked
utterly astounded, gaze frantically darting between Red and Blue. But Fell
folded his arms, smiling at Blue. “What were the terms of your bet?”

“Red was under the impression
that you two were dating,” Blue explained, shooting Red a grin, and receiving a
glower in return. “But I knew that Papy would never be so direct—I believed
your arrangement was purely physical. And I was right!” Blue beamed. “So now
Red has to go on a date with me!”

Fell smirked, unable to deny that
he was rather impressed with the little skeleton. His gaze flickered to Swap,
who was looking a little dumbstruck, seeming unsure what to make of the
situation. “Well, technically—we are dating now,” Fell said, carefully sliding
his hand into Swap’s. The way Swap’s fingers curled—perhaps
instinctively—around his own, made his soul flutter.

“Ha! So I was right!” Red declared, grinning at Blue. Fell could hear the
uncertainty in his brother’s voice, and he clacked his teeth together with a
shake of his head.

“When exactly did this bet take
place, brother?”

Red’s smile faded, and he shot
Fell a glare. “A month ago. Not that it’s any of yer business, Boss.”

Fell raised a brow bone in
dubiety, placing his free hand on his hip. “We were not dating a month ago,
therefore, as a completely impartial third-party judge, I declare that Blue is
the winner of this bet.”

Blue clapped his hands together
gleefully, giving Red a playful nudge. Red was looking more embarrassed than upset,
truth be told, and Fell could see hints of cherry colouring his cheekbones.
“Yer such a dick, Boss,” he grumbled, scowling at the floor.

“Oh, come now, Red. It was hardly
a fair bet in the first place.”

“Exactly!” Red cried,
exasperated. “That’s what I was trying to—”

“Twenty gold in exchange for a
date with you?” Fell tutted. “That’s hardly worth five G. What does Blue even
get out of that? It was a win-win situation for you—I can hardly say the same
for him.”

Blue stifled a small giggle as
Red fumed silently, shooting daggers at his brother. “Why you let him fuck you
is beyond me,” he said to Swap, giving him a pointed look.

Swap grinned, and Fell startled
slightly when he casually threw an arm around his shoulders. “Actually, I’m the
one who did most of the fucking.”

Fell growled, shoving Swap away.
“That’s a lie and you know it!” Swap shrugged, Fell’s outrage only seeming to
entertain him.

“I suppose you’re right. I did
tell you to go fuck yourself an awful lot.”

“Enough cursing!” Blue scolded,
pinning Swap with a scathing glare, immediately silencing his brother. But a
small smile still twitched at the corner of Swap’s mouth, and he gave Fell’s shoulders
a light squeeze. Blue turned his attention back to Red, who was looking a
little put-out, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, smiling. “Come, Red, I
believe we have a date to plan!”

Red swallowed, glancing at Fell,
who gave him a small nod of encouragement. Fell supposed it would be
hypocritical of him to judge Red for it, but his brother had never exactly been
receptive to affection—the fact that he’d even agreed to the bet with Blue
bewildered Fell. Still, he could see the fondness that crept into Red’s
expression when he looked at Blue, and couldn’t help but think that this might
actually be good for him. Red turned to Blue, and Fell could tell the smile on
his face wasn’t forced, a genuine tenderness in his eyes as he shrugged.
“Alright, Berry, but I’m warnin’ ya, my standards are through the roof.”

Fell scoffed derisively, more
than ready to refute his brother’s claim, but Blue merely snickered slightly,
shaking his head as he grinned at Red, guiding him towards the Swap brothers’
living room. “I know you do! That’s why you are going on this date with me!”

Fell watched as they left the
kitchen, Blue chatting animatedly about potential dating locations, and he
couldn’t stop the faint swell of warmth that formed in his soul. Once they were
gone, he turned to Swap, who was still looking a little aghast. “Our brothers?”
Swap said, shaking his head. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“I suppose they must have been
thinking the same thing.” Fell smirked at Swap, who rolled his eyes. “They’re
more switched on than I thought,” he admitted. “Especially Blue—that was rather
perceptive of him.” Fell gave Swap a deliberate look, Blue’s words about the
lazier skeleton’s inability to be direct prickling at the back of his mind.

“Heh, yeah. He’s way too cool.”
Swap avoided Fell’s gaze, his hands shoved in his pockets. They were both
silent for a moment, Fell’s scrutiny not wavering as he regarded Swap.

“So,” he said at last, tone
questioning, bordering on accusatory, “was asking me on an actual date instead
of asking me to fuck you ever actually on your agenda?”

Swap chuckled, blushing slightly
as he buried his hands deeper in his pockets. “Heh, uh… guess not? Didn’t
really think dating was your style.”

Fell smiled, looping an arm
around Swap’s waist and drawing him close. “Well, I can’t deny our arrangement
was rather gratifying.” Swap returned his smile, face still glowing with a
faint tint of magic. “Any more rules you’d like to break?”

Swap considered for a moment,
before a grin stretched across his features. “Oh, I can think of one.” Fell
raised a brow bone in question, and Swap leaned closer, his voice dropping.
“Number seven.”

Fell paused for a moment, trying
to recall the rule. Then it hit him, and he released a surprised laugh. “The
tape? I’d almost forgotten about that. I thought you were embarrassed about
it?”

Swap scoffed, looking
incredulous. “Embarrassed? Oh please, Fell, I know I look good in bed.”

Fell frowned, a little surprised.
“Then why—?”

Swap shrugged, making a
non-committal noise. “Eh, figured it might be a bit too… personal, y’know? The
whole point of the arrangement was for me to get you out of my system—wouldn’t
exactly help if one of us was reliving our heated passion every night.”

Fell huffed in disapproval.
“Please, I’d hardly watch it every night. Every second night, at most.” Swap
grinned, and Fell shook his head, sighing. “And maybe during the day,” he added
under his breath, just loud enough for Swap to hear.

Swap’s laughter was light, and
Fell couldn’t stop himself from cracking a small smile. “So, you game?” Swap
asked, hand resting on Fell’s iliac crest—more out of affection than teasing,
it seemed.

Fell nodded decisively, placing a
hand on his hip. “Of course I am. I do look excellent in leather.”

****

“Wow, Fell, you really do look
good in leather.” Fell blushed, curling in on himself slightly where he was
seated on the bed. Swap grinned at him, adjusting the laptop screen so that it
was facing him. “And I don’t look half bad either. Especially not with my cock
buried in your—”

“Okay, okay, enough!” Fell cried,
burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe you convinced me to do
this—this is so…”

“Perverted?” Swap suggested,
grinning as his gaze flicked back to the screen.

Fell shook his head, groaning.
“Embarrassing! Why did I even agree to make this ridiculous film with you in
the first place?”

Swap regarded him for a moment in
silence, appearing amused. Slowly, he reached a hand to cup Fell’s jaw, gently
running his thumb over the edges of his filed teeth. “I was doing you a favour,
remember?”

Fell grimaced, though the memory
was a little comical. “You were helping me get back at Mettaton,” he recalled,
his frown slowly morphing into a smirk. “It was a brilliant plan, actually.”

Swap grinned. “I am a maniacal
genius.” Fell rolled his eyes, turning back to the computer, where Swap had
slipped a hand beneath the skimpy underwear Fell was wearing. “You and
Mettaton…” Swap said slowly, sounding hesitant. Fell glanced up to see him
frowning slightly. “When you two were dating, was it…?”

Fell scoffed, shaking his head
with a small laugh. “’Dating’ is probably a very generous way of putting it—in
fact, our relationship hardly differed from my arrangement with you, just
without all the formalities. I suppose it’s a lot easier to free-reign it when
there’s no danger of actual attraction.”

Swap grinned, and Fell couldn’t
help but notice the hint of relief in the expression. “So, you ever ‘date’
anyone before him?” he asked. His gaze was fixed on the computer screen, but
the genuineness behind the question was given away by the occasional flicker of
his eyes back to Fell.

“Not in the literal sense, no,”
Fell replied. “It’s not really… done, in Underfell.”

“Guess you and I are in the same
boat, then.”

Fell gave a small snicker.
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

Swap looked at him, his outrage
betrayed by the amusement in his eyes. “What are you trying to say? That I’m
not romantic enough to date?”

“Swap. You asked me out by
proposing we fuck each other… platonically.”

Swap crossed his arms, something
awfully akin to smugness creeping into his expression. “And? It worked, didn’t
it?”

Fell rolled his eye-lights,
shoving Swap away as he tried to lean in. “Yes. I’m completely smitten.”

Swap chuckled quietly, resting
his head on Fell’s shoulder. The act was simple, yet somehow, it lit that tiny
flame of warmth in Fell’s soul that always seemed to accompany Swap’s smaller
gestures. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around Swap’s shoulders, drawing him
closer. He could feel Swap’s cool breaths against his mandible, and he let his
eyes drift closed, relaxing into the moment. “See?” Swap whispered. “I told you
I was romantic.”

Fell’s eyes snapped open, and he
frowned down at Swap, deadpan. “We’re watching our sex tape,” he commented.

“Shit, this isn’t what’s
considered romantic?” Swap sighed, dipping his head in a dramatic display of
remorse. “I’m gonna have to take another look at that advanced dating manual.”

Fell chuckled quietly, looking
away with a small shake of his head. His gaze landed on the computer screen,
and he flushed slightly. “You really destroyed me, didn’t you?” he remarked,
trying not to sound impressed by the lewd acts unfurling on the computer
screen.

Swap smirked, shifting closer to
press himself against Fell’s chest. “I did, didn’t I? Wouldn’t be opposed to a
repeat, would you?”

Fell flicked Swap’s cheekbone,
earning him muffled yelp of surprise. “I’ll consider it.” His eyes wandered
back to the computer, and—upon realising the point they’d reached in the video
(after all, he had become very familiar with it during his editing)—he turned
to Swap, leaning close with a grin. “You know, if you were hungry, you
should’ve just asked,” he murmured, gesturing towards the screen, where Swap
was biting down—very hard—on his fist.
“I would have been more than happy to let you—”

Swap’s gaze snapped up, eyes
going wide as they landed on the screen. “W-what?”

“I must admit,” Fell purred,
pressing his teeth against Swap’s cheekbone, which had slowly turned a deep
shade of gold, “you do have a very impressive bite. You should let me sample it
sometime.”

With a strained noise of
embarrassment, Swap reached forward, quickly slamming the laptop shut. Fell
grinned at him, feeling extremely satisfied at the bashful expression he’d
managed to coax onto Swap’s face. Thus far, the embarrassment at the tape had
felt awfully one-sided. “I was rather curious as to how you managed to last
longer than me…” Carefully, he lifted Swap’ hand, tracing over his fingers,
which still bore the faint lines inflicted by Swap’s attempts at quelling his
arousal during the making of their film. “Your appetite is apparently
insatiable in more ways than one.”

Despite the burning magic on his
cheekbones, Swap released a stifled snort of laughter, trying to turn away.
“You obviously have no idea how good you actually look in leather,” he said,
failing to yank his hand out of Fell’s grasp. “And I couldn’t exactly finish
before you—we were on camera!”

“Hmm…” Fell hummed as he nipped
at the thin bones of Swap’s fingers. “Was I really that good?”

“Oh, shut up, you know you were,”
Swap chided. He glanced at Fell, a dubious smirk turning the corners of his
mouth. “How did you even notice that anyway?” Leaning in, he pressed his teeth
to Fell’s cheekbone, murmuring, “Exactly how many times did you watch the tape
during your ‘editing process’, Fell?”

Fell blushed profusely, letting
Swap’s hand drop as the other skeleton chuckled. “No comment,” he said,
stiffly, nudging Swap away with his elbow. But Swap quickly shuffled back, wrapping
his arms around Fell’s ribcage and nuzzling against the nape of his neck.

“Well, I quite enjoyed breaking
that rule—any others on your mind?”

“Well, I certainly won’t be
asking you to break rule number nine,” Fell said, unable to hide his sneer as
he regarded Swap.

Swap rolled his eyes, grinning.
“Hm. If I recall, I was the victim
of—” he gave a small cough “—a lack of oral reciprocation when it came to that
one.”

“And I paid you back for that…
small oversight,” Fell said tightly. “Thoroughly.”

“I don’t suppose I can get you to
budge on rule number ten?” Swap looked hopeful, and Fell almost felt sorry for
him. Almost.

“Absolutely not,” he said
resolutely. “I may be in love with you, but under no circumstances does that
mean I’m putting up with that filthy habit of yours.”

“…don’t even have lungs…” Swap
muttered under his breath, scowling as he picked at a loose thread on the bed
sheets. “Alright, what other rules do you wanna break, then? I guess the three
‘golden rules’ are already out the window, so that just leaves…”

“I want to break number four,”
Fell interrupted, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. He found himself
struggling to meet Swap’s gaze, almost ashamed of himself.

“The one about… soul stuff.” It
wasn’t a question, and Fell could hear the sudden shift in Swap’s tone. They
were both silent for a few moments, the mood seeming to grow heavier. Even for
a Tale verse monster, Fell knew anything involving the soul was particularly
intimate—even more so when the participants were close to each other.

No one had ever seen Fell’s soul,
not even his brother. And a month ago, the idea of revealing his soul to
another monster would never even have occurred to him. He’d mostly thrown the
rule into the mix as an afterthought—when rules had been so easy to toss
around. But now… it felt like a step he had to take. Something he needed to do
in order to overcome his doubts and anxieties.

Swap rested a hand on his arm,
looking him in the eye without a hint of his usual teasing or humour. “Fell,
are you sure? I know that it’s… I mean—Blue’s the only one who’s ever seen
mine, I—”

“We don’t have to do this,” Fell
said quickly, but Swap immediately shook his head.

“No—no, I want to… I really want
to.” He fell silent, looking contemplative. One of his hands, still tracing the
pattern of Fell’s ribs, inched towards his sternum, resting there for a moment.
“I know you’re not exactly the type to—heh—bear your soul.” Fell rolled his
eyes-lights, but ignored the joke. “I just… I want you to be certain.”

Fell didn’t speak for a moment,
observing Swap in silence. Gradually, his hand crept to the centre of Swap’s
ribcage, where his soul would appear if he conjured it. In the quiet, stillness
of the room, he could almost feel its warmth, the peacefully charged magic
flowing through Swap’s bones. Taking a long, decisive breath, he nodded,
fingers curling into a fist where they were rested on Swap’s sternum. “I’m
certain.” Fell warmed at the flicker of relief in Swap’s eyes—he wanted this
too. The thought sent an easy wave of calm over him, and he leaned back on the
bed, relaxing as Swap shuffled closer, hand never leaving Fell’s chest.

Pressing a soft, but lingering
kiss to Fell’s teeth, Swap whispered, “I love you, Fell.” Closing his eyes,
Fell allowed the words to sink in. It all still felt so surreal—like at any
moment the harmony within him would devolve back into chaos. “Relax,” Swap
breathed, moving to straddle Fell’s hips, his mouth trailing down Fell’s jaw.
Fell did his best to oblige, allowing his arms to go limp at his sides, trying
to ease the ever-present tension in his bones. He felt vulnerable—unprepared
for an impending attack, even though he knew
it wouldn’t come. Letting go wasn’t a luxury living in Underfell permitted,
and the feeling was strange. Fell was completely at Swap’s mercy.

He flinched at the sudden feeling
of Swap’s fingers on his ribs. “Don’t open your eyes,” Swap whispered, but he
halted his hands nonetheless. Fell was rigid for a moment, the tension
returning to his limbs. “Is this okay?” Swap had begun to trace gentle circles
over Fell’s sternum, the movements slow but deliberate. Fell nodded wordlessly,
forcing himself to focus on nothing but the feeling of Swap’s fingers, the
comforting aura the touches emanated. He gradually began to calm down, even
when Swap’s fingers trailed lower, dipping beneath his shirt, where Fell had
yet to conjure his soul.

“Are you sure you still want
this?” Swap asked, his mouth close to Fell’s, his soft breaths shifting the still
air. Fell opened his eyes, meeting Swap’s golden ones, which were filled with
unfaltering trust. Fell swallowed, nodding firmly in an attempt to crush the
doubts still swirling within him. Swap held his gaze for a second longer,
before dropping his hand to where the red glow of Fell’s soul shone through his
shirt.

Fell could sense the proximity of
Swap’s fingers, stirring the air around the crimson organ. Swap slowly lifted
Fell’s shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it, before returning to
his ribcage, fingers tracing over the scarred bones as he reached his soul. His
fingers brushed the edge of it—the touch so light Fell almost didn’t register
it. But still, the contact was too much, and he flinched violently, grasping
Swap’s wrist and yanking it away from his chest. “N-no,” he gasped, his hand shaking slightly where he held Swap in
a steel grip. “I—I can’t.”  Fell was too afraid to meet Swap’s
eyes—afraid of what his alternate’s expression might convey. Was he angry?
Hurt? Was he going to ignore Fell’s wishes and touch his soul anyway?

A gentle hand came to rest under
Fell’s chin, slowly tilting his skull upward so that he was forced to look at
Swap. “It’s okay,” Swap murmured, leaning forward to press his teeth lightly to
Fell’s forehead. Fell remained motionless, his soul still hovering in his
ribcage, the glow pale and uncertain. But Swap’s hands were nowhere near it, and
Fell was able to relax—just a little. Sitting up, Swap pulled his hoodie over
his head, revealing his pale bones. Fell’s breath almost stuttered at the
sight. The thin, fragile appearance of Swap’s ribs had always escaped his
notice, but right now, he looked as delicate as porcelain, ready to shatter
before Fell’s eyes.

Still, Swap made no move to hide
himself, or flinch away when Fell reached up, pressing his fingers to the
centre of Swap’s ribcage, where the faint glow of his soul radiated. His breath
caught as the golden organ came into sight, burning like a small flame in the
dark room. “You can take it,” Swap said, hand coming to rest over Fell’s,
guiding him towards his soul. Fell glanced up, eyes going wide with hesitance.

“Swap, I—I don’t know if I
should…”

“It’s alright.” Swap’s touch was
gentle, his movements slow as he trailed Fell’s hand downward, pausing just
before the rougher skeleton’s sharp fingers reached his soul. Fell’s own soul
pulsed, mesmerised by the sheer radiance of Swap’s. Deliberately prolonging his
movements, Fell carefully enclosed it, hearing Swap’s breathing falter slightly
as he did so. He looked up, and Swap gave him a steady nod. Slowly withdrawing
his hand, Fell cradled the golden soul.

Fell could feel his own soul
flickering wildly, as if trying to escape his ribcage, but he was too
enthralled by the delicate object in his hand to give it much notice. Swap’s
soul was a lot like his bones—smooth, pale, and fragile-looking, like stained
glass. He could see the deep golden magic swirling beneath the surface, charged
with vehement compassion, and Fell’s soul strained to connect with it.

He almost jumped when Swap’s
fingertips brushed his ribs, breaking him out of his trance. Swap was looking
down at him patiently, though Fell could see the tell-tale signs of yearning
beginning to ignite in his eyes. He noticed Swap’s gaze flickering down to his crimson
soul, an unspoken question in the gesture. Fell took a deep breath, before
nodding slowly. The brush of Swap’s fingers against his soul sent a shiver
through Fell, and he held his breath as Swap gently withdrew it from his chest.
Cupping it delicately in his hand, Swap met Fell’s gaze, as if checking for any
reluctance.

But Fell wasn’t looking at Swap.
His gaze was fixed on his own blood red soul. It was so different from
Swap’s—in more ways than just the colour. Where the surface of Swap’s soul was
smooth and clear, Fell’s was hard and coarse, like roughly cut stone. There
were thin cracks across it, and the light it emitted was dim—almost pitiful—in
comparison to the pure splendour of Swap’s. Tears prickled at Fell’s eye
sockets, and he looked away, disgusted. “Fell…” Swap’s fingers traced the edge
of his jaw, trying to turn his head.

But Fell obstinately kept his
gaze averted, the sight of his soul giving rise to overwhelming revulsion.
“Don’t—” he managed to choke, shaking his head, “it—it’s hideous.” Fell could
still feel Swap’s own soul in his hand, pulsing gently. He tightened his grip
on it slightly—but still remained gentle, afraid of shattering the delicate
organ—bringing it to his chest. “I—I don’t deserve—”

Fell gasped, gaze shooting back
up to Swap to see his counterpart pressing his thumb against the rough surface
of Fell’s soul. It wasn’t hard enough to be painful, but Fell could feel it so deeply, he felt ready to
collapse. “Swap, gah—”

“Don’t you dare, Fell,” Swap
said, tone dropping low. “Don’t you dare tell me that you don’t deserve
love—that you don’t deserve to feel happy.” Fell couldn’t hold Swap’s gaze, and
tried to turn his head away, only to be stopped as Swap’s hand cupped his
cheek. His golden eyes were almost blazing as brightly as his soul, and they
were full of sincere determination. “I love you—damn it, Fell, I need you to
believe that.” Swap closed his eyes, bringing Fell’s soul to his teeth, and
pressing a light kiss to its surface. “I’ll make
you believe me if I have to.”

Fell was quivering—whether from
the crushing shame at seeing his own soul, or at the unmarred devotion in Swap’s
voice, he couldn’t quite tell. A startled gasp escaped him as Swap ran his
tongue over the scarlet soul, the feeling somehow both overwhelming and
intangible. More than anything, the act possessed something so astoundingly
benevolent—the intention completely pure and unburdened by doubt or disgust.
Fell whimpered, a thin crack appearing down the centre of his hardened soul. He
could feel Swap’s breaths against the surface of it, warm and comforting—safe.

Swap traced a single phalange
down the crack, and Fell shuddered, his toes curling and his fingers tightening
around Swap’s soul, which shone in his hand. Swap leaned in then, pressing his
teeth against Fell’s, fingers still running smoothly down his soul. Fell failed
to stifle a sob, even as Swap’s tongue swept a delicate trail across his teeth,
lavishing Fell in adoration. When Swap withdrew, Fell tensed at the sight of
his soul. The crack had deepened, revealing the magic beneath the hardened
surface. It was bright, untainted, churning zealously as Swap dipped a finger into
the fracture.

The moment he came into contact
with the translucent crimson magic, Fell crumbled. Releasing a choked cry, he
succumbed to the utter euphoria of Swap’s touch, charged with a love so
intense, Fell feared his soul might shatter. “That’s it, Fell,” Swap breathed,
pressing their bodies together, wrapping his arms around Fell as he pressed
past the thick, hard outer layer of Fell’s soul. “Don’t hold back, don’t shut
me out anymore—I’m here.”

Fell clutched onto Swap as he
allowed the glorious bliss to consume him, drowning out everything but the
close touch of Swap’s body against his own. He’d never felt so naked and
vulnerable, utterly exposed and defenceless—yet completely at ease, as if all
his troubles had evaporated, leaving only this warm safety, untarnished by any
doubts or worries.

For the first time in what may
have been a lifetime, Fell didn’t feel alone.

****

Long after Swap had drifted off
to sleep, Fell lay awake. And for once, it wasn’t because of nightmares, or the
constant feeling of threat looming over him, or those intrusive thoughts,
ticking away in his mind. In fact, he felt completely at peace. His arms
tightened slightly around Swap, and his still-glowing soul warmed a little more
as Swap unconsciously pressed closer to him. He could feel the gentle rise and
fall of Swap’s chest, the soft sound of his breaths, the scent of his magic,
still lingering in the air.

It wasn’t perfect, but by the
stars, Fell couldn’t imagine anything better.

Sixteen Rules – Chapter Seven

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12388203/chapters/29459757

Title: “Rule number sixteen”

Summary: Confessions are made, and we reach our final rule.

Relationship: UF Papyrus/US Papyrus

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, confessions

Warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, anxiety, mention of drugging, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Another emotional roller coaster (especially for Fell Papy, poor baby)

Word Count: 6,811 (I’ve given up on cutting down words)


“Heya Boss? Can I come in?”

“Whether or not you do is
entirely up to you, Red,” Fell said, without looking up from his book. Red
released a weary sigh as he strolled over, and despite his preoccupation, Fell
noticed the troubled expression on his face.

“Bro, do you, uh… mind if I sit?”

Fell’s gaze briefly flickered to
his brother. It wasn’t often that Red dropped the title he normally used for
Fell, and the deviation unsettled him slightly. Still, he gave no indication of
his concern, giving a cursory wave of his hand. “I don’t see why not.” He
turned back to his book, tapping his pencil on the page as he scanned the
sudoku grid. While he’d completed most of these puzzles many times, doing them
again helped settle him.

Red sat down, the bed shifting
slightly under his weight, and frowned at Fell over the top of the page. It
wasn’t difficult to guess what he must be thinking. Likely the same thing he’d
been thinking all week. Fell hadn’t missed the anxious glances Red had given
him when he thought he wasn’t looking, or the fact that he’d checked Fell’s
stats at least twenty times since last week’s incident. Fell had been doing his
best to ignore it, locking his bedroom door and studying his advanced puzzle
making books, or sorting his figurines into the new battle formations he’d been
learning about. He’d been trying to convince Undyne to extend his training
time, but his request had been met with little more than poorly veiled concern
from the fish monster. Fell wondered if Red had been talking to her.

He only realised he’d briefly
dissociated when Red gave his shoulder a gentle shove. “C’mon, Boss, scooch
over.” Fell blinked at his brother for a moment, before obliging, Red shuffling
along the bed to lie beside him. They lay in silence for a few moments, Fell’s
mind ticking anxiously as he waited for his brother to breach the dreaded topic
that he knew had been warring on Red’s mind the entire week. “So… Swap came by
earlier. Again.”

Oh. Not exactly what Fell had
been expecting, but still a conversation he’d rather avoid. He sighed, putting
his book down. “Did he?” His tone conveyed disinterest, but in truth, the news
sent a silent ache through his soul.

“Yup. Wanted to see ya.”

“And?”

“And I sent ‘im away,” Red said,
with a shrug. “Told ‘im ya didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Hm.” It was times like these
that Fell really appreciated his brother. Red was accustomed to Fell’s moodiness,
and knew when to give him his space. Still, a small part of Fell sometimes
wished his brother wasn’t so good at taking hints. But he knew he only had
himself to blame for Red’s wariness when it came to his ‘bad days’ (or weeks).

“I’ve been feelin’ better,” Red
said, glancing at Fell, who was still staring deliberately away from him.
“Think I might be ready to head back to work tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” Fell gave his brother a
quick, cursory glance—a check he always did out of habit to make sure his
brother wasn’t lying for the sake of appearing more durable than he was. He was
relieved to see that this time, Red was telling the truth. His bones had lost
the yellowish tinge they’d adopted after he’d been drugged, and his eye-lights
were brighter. Fell gave a stiff nod, turning away to pick up his book once
again. “Well. Good. I dare say allowing you to laze around the house was not my
first preference, but it appears to have improved your health. No more
headaches?”

“Nope. Back to bein’ a regular
old bonehead.”

Fell rolled his eye-lights. “And
the nausea?”

“Gone.”

“Exhaustion?”

“Heh, well you know me, Boss. ‘m
always bone-tired, but—ouch!”

“Hmm, you appear to have regained
the ability to feel pain too, which is a good sign,” Fell said, as Red rubbed
the back of his skull, scowling.

“Anyone ever told ya that yer
kind of a dick, Boss?”

Fell remained nonchalant,
returning to his sudoku. “Constantly. I’ve grown accustomed to it. It’s easy to
tune out.”

Red grumbled something inaudible,
which Fell ignored, opting to focus on his puzzle instead. He could feel Red’s
eyes on him as he scanned the page, his brother choosing to remain silent for
the moment as he scrutinised him. With a sigh, Fell turned to face the wall,
his back to Red so that he could concentrate on the numbers in front of him.
This particular puzzle was one he hadn’t done before—and he was finding it
especially challenging.

He scowled at the sound of a cap
being popped, catching sight of Red taking a large gulp of mustard out of the
corner of his socket. With a lingering sigh, he said, “Brother. I assume your
temporary illness has not erased the rules about eating in my room from your
mind.”

Red made a non-committal noise in
response, and continued to drink the foul yellow condiment. “Eh, figured it’d
give me somethin’ to do—since yer not talkin’ to me.”

“I am talking to you, brother,”
Fell said dryly, obstinately refusing to turn around. “This is what talking
sounds like.”

Red chuckled, but continued to
defy Fell, taking another sip of mustard. “Heh. Yer funny, Boss.” Fell allowed
the seconds to tick by, trying to tune out the sound of Red’s incessant
gulping. He frowned at the page in front of him, pencil tapping on the corner
of the book as he attempted to solve the puzzle before him. But somehow, Red’s drinking
only seemed to grow louder as time went on, until Fell was ready to snap his
pencil in two.

Spinning around, he growled,
“What exactly is it that you want, Red?”

Red languidly allowed his gaze to
travel to his brother’s face, seeming unperturbed, his brow bone raised. “Dunno
whatcha talkin’ about, Boss. ‘m just lyin’ here with my mustard.”

Fell could tell that his brother
was trying to get under his skin—metaphorically—and he pinched his nasal bridge
between to fingers with a frustrated sigh. “Brother. If you wish to consume
that vile substance then by all means, do so—outside of my room.”

After a moment’s pause,
eye-lights fixed on Fell, Red gave a shrug, shifting off the bed. “If ya say
so, Boss—don’t let me get in yer way.” He glanced at the page Fell was holding,
before reaching out a finger to tap on one of the grids. “Yer missin’ a three
in yer second column there, Boss.” Fell frowned at the page, ready to snap at
Red not to interfere—until he realised he was correct. Scowling, he erased his
scribbles, and Red gave an easy grin, before sidling over to the door. “Well.
See ya later then, Boss.”

Fell watched with uncertainty as
Red reached for the doorknob, a lump seeming to form in his chest. Just as he
was about to leave, Fell called out. “Red, wait.” Red turned, brow bone raised.

“Somethin’ eatin’ ya, Boss?”

Fell quickly shook his head,
glancing at the carpet, trying to swallow against the lump, which seemed to have
risen to his throat. “I—no, I just…” His mind frantically scrambled for a
topic, and he hurriedly cleared his throat, looking up at his brother. “What
did, uh—what did Swap want?”

Red’s expression was unreadable
as he observed Fell, mustard bottle between his teeth. After what felt like an
eternity, he shrugged. “Just wanted to check in, make sure ya were alright.”

Fell nodded, looking away quickly
lest his expression give something away. “Oh.” He wasn’t sure whether to feel
thrilled that Swap cared enough to have come by—or disappointed that he hadn’t
pushed Red harder to let him inside. The lump seemed to grow heavier, and Fell
only realised his grip on the book had tightened when his clawed fingers
created small tears in the page. Stiffly, he placed it on the nightstand,
leaning back against his headboard. “What did you tell him?” he asked, quietly.

Once again, Red’s gaze seemed to
bear more weight than he was letting on, his deep scarlet eye-lights piercing
through Fell as if he could see right into his mind. The silence seemed to
linger for a moment too long before Red finally gave an indifferent wave of his
hand. “Told ‘im ya were good. Just like always, right Boss?”

Fell forced himself to meet his
brother’s gaze, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Red had that look in his
eye—the look he got when he knew that there were cracks in Fell’s walls. The
walls that he was normally so good at keeping rigid and sturdy, blocking out
everything he didn’t wish to confront. And Fell knew Red was right. He could feel
himself shaking slightly, the lump in his chest and throat seeming to constrict
around his soul. He could feel the tears prickling the back of his eye sockets,
and he bit down harshly to stop them.

Fell seldom experienced this
feeling. This utter vulnerability that seemed to leave him in shreds. Shreds
that were very difficult to knit back together. He flinched at the feeling of
Red’s hand on his arm, looking up to find his brother gazing down at him
patiently. The look in his eyes strayed nowhere near pity, for which Fell was
grateful. He hated being pitied. “Y’know Boss…” Red began, sitting back down on
the bed beside Fell. “Yer allowed to be happy.”

This seemed to strike something
within Fell, because the next breath he took sounded shaky and strained—even to
his own ears. He stared directly ahead, trying to stop the quivering of his
hands. Haltingly, he shook his head, a wry smile making its way onto his
features. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Red.”

Red sighed, his frown deepening.
“Boss, listen…” He shifted closer, and Fell could feel his gaze boring into
him. “I understand—believe me, I do. Growin’ up in this shithole—it’ll mess
with ya. Especially you, Boss. Ya care so much about things—no matter what it
is; trainin’ to be a guardsman, yer puzzles, cookin’, takin’ care of yer lazy
big bro—it all matters to ya, a lot. And I know what this place does to that
passion…” Out of the corner of his eye socket, Fell could see how troubled Red
looked now, picking at his gold tooth. It was something Fell would normally
scold him for, but even such a simple act seemed undoable at this point, a cold
ache in his chest. His knuckles tightened into a fist, and he closed his eyes
slowly to try and alleviate some of the tension in his bones.

“It twists it,” Red went on,
voice taking on a grave tone. “It turns it into somethin’ dark. It channels it
all towards one thing… survival.” Red was silent again, taking a gulp of
mustard.

Fell sighed, shaking his head. “I
know where you’re going with this, brother. And I’ve heard it before—hell, I’m
sure you’ve heard it before too. You
think we are the way we are because we have
to be. To survive. I get it. You think I’m—”

Red gave a dry laugh, shaking his
head, and Fell finally glanced up. Red was grinning, but it was nowhere near
genuine, the soberness of the expression betrayed by the way the corners of his
mouth twisted downward. “C’mon, Boss, it’s me. I’ve seen ya at yer worst. I
know not everythin’ ye’ve done has been fer the right reasons—same goes fer me,
but… but that’s not my point.” Red’s grin faded, turning into something pained.
“This world… it takes things like love and compassion—and it crushes ‘em.
Forces ya to hide ‘em under layers and layers of anger and hostility.”

Fell grit his teeth against the
almost overwhelming impulse to snap. “Thank you, Red. For pointing out the
obvious. I’m an asshole. I get it.”

“Boss—yer not listenin’ to me.
I’m tellin’ ya that yer the opposite. Yer
kind, and yer good—ya just keep it hidden. ‘Cause this shithole makes it seem
like a bad thing.”

Fell swallowed, squeezing his
eyes shut. Swap’s voice rang through his head, as clear as if he were standing
right there. ‘You’re a good person,
Fell.’
He could feel tears threatening to fall, and he bit them back,
scowling. “Damn it, Red. Why are you even telling me this? What does it
matter?”

“Because, Boss,” Red was sounding
less and less collected, his voice shaking slightly, “because I need ya to know
that bein’ a good person ain’t a bad thing. Bein’ kind and carin’ about shit doesn’t make ya weak. Love—the real kind, not the
bullshit number that ya seem to think defines ya—it ain’t a weakness, Boss.
It’s a strength. Don’t keep it buried. You can let yourself be happy—even if
it’s just for a day, an hour—a damn minute,
Boss. Please.”

Fell stared directly ahead,
unsure if he’d be able to hold it together if he looked at his brother. His
fists were clutched around the covers of his bed, and he could feel himself quivering.
A heaviness seemed to weigh on his soul—a sick, churning feeling that only
seemed to grow worse the longer he remained silent. The thoughts he’d been
trying so hard to repress this past week all seemed to be resurfacing,
threatening to breach the surface and shatter every ounce of his composure.

He almost flinched when Red spoke
again, his voice low and exhausted. “I get that it’s hard fer ya, Boss. I know
what it’s like. I understand that it’s hard to deal with—”

“No, you don’t.” Fell’s voice had
dropped to a growl, and he almost couldn’t believe the words had come out of
his own mouth. He finally looked up, pushing down the pain in his chest, and
pinning his brother with a firm stare. “You don’t
know what it’s like, Red. None of you do. None of you have LOVE—none of you
will ever understand.” Fell could
feel the LV inside his soul now, twisting it like a searing cold fire.

Red shook his head, and Fell
could see the defeated look in his eyes. It sent a twinge of guilt through him,
quashing some of the frigid anger his LV had induced. “Yer right, Boss. I—I’m
sorry…” The guilty feeling grew, and Fell turned away again, hiding the angry
tears pooling in his eye sockets.

“No—no, don’t be,” he
half-choked, his words seeming stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry, Red, I—”

“Hey—hey, it’s alright.” Red
carefully placed a hand on Fell’s shoulder, moving slowly in a way Fell was
certain was deliberate. “How ‘bout we head downstairs, grab somethin’ to eat?
That sound good?” Fell could only nod, not trusting himself to speak. Red
offered him a half-smile as he strode towards the door, and Fell slowly climbed
off the bed, following his brother to the stairs.

His soul was still pulsing with
undirected magic, his entire body seeming to buzz nervously with it. He could
feel the magic involuntarily flowing outward from his soul, channelling into
his fingertips, as if anticipating a fight. Fell clenched his fists, trying to
quash it with every ounce of control he had. Closing his eyes, he took three
deep breaths, counting backwards from ten before he opened them again. He only realised
he’d come to a stop at the top of the stairs, when Red’s voice broke through
his reverie. “You okay, Boss?” Red was watching him from the foot of the steps,
chewing on the tip of his bottle of mustard. His eyes darted away from Fell for
a moment, lingering on something in the living room, and that guilty prickle
reignited in Fell’s chest.

He nodded quickly, following Red
down the stairs. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice tight. Red offered him a weak
smile, and Fell forced himself to look away. He hated seeing Red worried,
especially when he was the source of that worry. Fell glanced around the living
room when he reached the bottom of the stairs, and immediately froze.

Swap was sitting on sofa. The
moment Fell entered the room, he looked up, immediately rising from his seat.
“Fell—”

“What. Is he doing here?” Fell hissed through his teeth. Red grinned
sheepishly, picking at his gold tooth as he glanced between Swap and Fell.

“Sorry Boss,” he mumbled. “You
Papyrus assholes are stubborn. Couldn’t get ‘im to leave.”

Fell barely glanced at Red, his
gaze fixed on Swap. Inside, his soul was fluttering—whether it was with
excitement or anxiety, Fell couldn’t quite discern. Swap was shifting uncomfortably,
his hands shoved in his pockets, and his gaze somehow unwavering as he watched
Fell uneasily. “What are you doing here?” Fell asked, his tone harsh. “I don’t
want you here.”

Fell’s words made Swap visibly
flinch, but he shook his head. “Fell, I just wanted to see you—to make sure
you’re—”

“I don’t want you here,” Fell
reiterated, his voice lowered to a growl. Swap grimaced, his gaze never leaving
Fell’s face. Fell scowled and turned away to stare at the carpet, the
blistering flames of his LV seeming to reignite.

For a few charged moments,
silence rang between them, Fell doggedly avoiding Swap’s gaze. He could feel
those golden eye-lights on him. But unlike Red’s, which had been full of hard
scrutiny, Swap’s were soft, tender—almost warm. They weren’t piercing, or
calculating. They were safe. They made Fell feel…

Fell blinked, realising he was
staring directly at Swap, who looked somber as he regarded him. Muttering a
silent curse, he returned to glaring at the carpet, this time trying to wipe
Swap from his mind completely. He heard Red give an awkward cough. “Well… I’m
gonna head to Grillby’s. You two, uh, have fun.” Red glanced at Fell, a small
frown on his features. “Try not to kill ‘im, Boss,” he whispered, leaning in.
Fell grumbled a half-hearted response, eyes still lowered in contempt for the
other two skeletons in the room.

Red glanced between them one last
time, before sighing and taking a long gulp of mustard. Shooting Swap a
deliberate look, he headed out into the snow, door closing and locking behind
him. Fell could feel the sudden spike in tension the moment his brother left,
both he and Swap seeming hesitant to break the silence. He dared a quick glance
at the other skeleton, and found his eyes still firmly pinned on him. “What
exactly is it you want?” he asked, voice thick with frustration.

“I… Fell you’ve been dodging my
calls all week, I just—”

“You just what?” Fell asked, brow
bone raised derisively. “You were getting horny and lonely? You missed having
someone to fuck?” Fell scoffed, rolling his eye-lights with a sneer. “Please.
You’re an attractive guy, Swap. I’m sure you can find someone else’s dick to
suck.”

Fell almost felt guilty upon
seeing the hurt in Swap’s eyes as he frowned, shaking his head slowly. “No. No,
that’s not it at all, I just… I wanted to know if you were okay. I… know what
happened at the bar last week,” he admitted, quietly. “I know Red was drugged,
and—well it’s not hard to guess who was responsible.”

Swap paused, observing Fell
apprehensively, who gave a dreary sigh, folding his arms. “And? Do I look hurt
to you, idiot? I’m fine.”

“You know that’s not what I
meant, asshole,” Swap murmured, voice hushed to a whisper.

Fell swallowed, feeling
uncomfortable. Doing his best not to show it, he gave Swap an audacious smirk.
“You want to know if I killed that monster, don’t you?”

“Did you?” Swap asked, quietly.

Fell was silent, his smirk
fading. It pained him to see the way Swap’s face seemed to fall slightly, his
eye-lights dimming. “It doesn’t matter,” Fell grumbled, marching past Swap
toward the kitchen. He scowled to himself as Swap hurried after him, seeming
undeterred by Fell’s less than subtle attempts to shake him off. He made his
way to the kettle, and began boiling a mug of water.

“Fell…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,”
Fell groused, irritably. He added a couple of spoonfuls of instant coffee to
his mug, and began stirring it rigorously, determined to caffeinate himself
before continuing this conversation.

“Fell, I… I need to know.”

Fell spun suddenly, pinning Swap
with his glare. Swap startled slightly, taking a step back as Fell invaded his
personal space, pressing him against the kitchen table. He no longer cared about
the hostility he was exuding, or how afraid Swap looked, eyes going wide as
Fell glowered at him. “Why do you want to know?” he snapped. “Why are you
trying to pick this apart? You know that I’m a killer. I’ve killed before—”
Fell gave a dry, humourless laugh that made Swap cringe away “—hell, I’ll
probably kill again. Why do you care about one monster? And such a piece of
shit at that.”

Swap still seemed to be trying to
lean away from Fell, though somehow, his eyes never left Fell’s face, still
projecting that unreasonable amount of warmth. Fell was doing everything in his
power to ignore the faint sense of comfort that gaze seemed to pass through
him, trying to remaining stoical and cold. “It was a Tale monster, Fell,” Swap
said at last, his voice very small. “That… doesn’t sit right with me…”

This time, Fell really did laugh,
almost in disbelief. Reluctantly, he forced himself to meet Swap’s gaze, his
own stare almost malicious in comparison to that of the other skeleton. Swap looked
uneasy, his hands shaking slightly where they were clutched onto the table.
Fell shook his head, his own cold laughter still seeming to ring in his ears.
“It doesn’t sit right with you? Are
you kidding me? Who do you think I am, Swap?”

Swap was silent for a moment,
frowning at Fell with more concern than fear—not quite what Fell was going for.
“Look, Fell, I didn’t mean—”

“You think my life is some big
tragedy?” Fell interrupted, holding Swap with a cold glare. “That I’m just a
poor, unfortunate soul who’s been forced into a bad situation? That I only kill
people because I have to—to protect
my brother or myself? That the only reason my LOVE sits at thirteen is because I’m a helpless victim who’s been forced to
adhere to a system I hate? Is that what you think?”

Swap quickly shook his head,
trying to shift away, but Fell refused to let him go, determined to drive his
point home. He pinned Swap against the table, leaning close to growl, “Well
guess what? I’m not. I’m a killer. And I always will be.”

Swap was still for a moment, gaze
unwaveringly locked on Fell’s face, almost frustratingly so. But Fell could see
the beginnings of fear etching onto his features, a sliver of doubt beneath the
uncanny warmth in his eyes. Still, he shook his head, swallowing heavily. “B-but,
you’re not. You only do it because you—”

“Because I have to?” Fell asked,
deadpan. “Because I have no other choice? There’s always a choice, Swap.
Always. And yes, sometimes that choice is difficult, but you can be sure I always
find a million ways to justify it.”

“But that’s the point, Fell. You have to justify it to yourself.” Swap
almost sounded exasperated now, much to Fell’s discontent. The gentler skeleton
had a fierce look in his eyes, pulling himself up so that he and Fell were
level. “You don’t do it because you want to—you do it because you have to.”

“Oh, do I?” Fell scoffed, shaking
his head. “You really don’t understand at all, do you? Do you really think I
gained thirteen LOVE purely from self-defence? Do you really think I killed all those monsters because I had to?” Fell shook his head, allowing a
cold smile to creep onto his face. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I did
it because I wanted to?” Fell noticed
the way Swap tried to stop himself from flinching, but the ever so slight step
back gave him away. He allowed his smile to widen, folding his arms. “Look at
you—you’re terrified. And you should be. You should stay away from me.”

Swap closed his eyes for a
moment, taking a deep breath. Fell could see the fear in his face, the slight
uncertainty beneath the stubborn determination. It pained him to see Swap like
this—nervous and unsettled—it almost made Fell yearn for his usual laid-back
attitude. But he knew—at least, he kept telling himself—that this was a good thing. That if Swap was afraid, he
would stay away from Fell. And as much as it pained him, Fell knew Swap was
better off without him. Better off without someone with Fell’s affinity to
violence and hostility. Better off without someone who was such a burden.

Slowly however, Swap’s composure
seemed to return, and he opened his eyes, fixing Fell with a hard stare. “No,”
he said, voice level. “I know what you’re trying to do, brat.” Fell flinched slightly – more at the familiarity of the
nickname than the scathing of Swap’s tone. “You’re trying to push me away—it’s
not going to work. I know you’re just trying to scare me. And yeah, you’re a
scary fucking asshole, but… I know you won’t hurt me.”

Fell’s smirk faded into a frown,
and he held Swap’s gaze, refusing to be the first to budge. But Swap was
looking at him with something more than just obstinance, his intentions deeper
than simply defying Fell. It was that softness, that warmth that somehow seemed
to calm Fell’s soul, making him feel both vulnerable and safe at the same time.
He seemed to care.

Gritting his teeth until it hurt,
Fell turned away, returning to his coffee. “I can’t force you to listen to me.
Do whatever you like. I don’t care.” Remaining silent, and ignoring Swap, he
stirred the contents of his mug, before taking a long sip without waiting for
it to cool down. He gave no indication of how it scorched his throat, or how
bitter it tasted, barely registering anything but the feeling of Swap’s eyes on
him. He kept his back turned, hoping that if he waited long enough, the other
skeleton would just leave. He jumped slightly at the feeling of a hand on his
shoulder, turning to see Swap standing far too close for his liking. Now it was
his turn to back away. “Why are you still here, asshole?” he asked, hearing how
tired he sounded.

“Fell…” Swap slowly reached for
Fell’s hand, which he yanked away, narrowing his eye sockets. Swap paused for a
moment, before continuing. “Please, tell me what happened after you left the
other night. I can’t—I can’t stop thinking about it, wondering if—”

“I don’t care what you think,”
Fell bit out, taking a long sip of his coffee. “If you have a problem with who
I am, then keep it to yourself.”

Swap shook his head, looking frustrated.
“That’s my problem—it isn’t who you
are. As much as you like to pretend it is, you’re not that person. You aren’t
your LV. You’re more than that, Fell.”

Fell grimaced, muttering
something inaudible as he shook his head. “Then why does it matter whether or
not I killed that monster? If I’m so above my actions—what does the murder of one
piece of shit matter?”

Swap observed him for a moment,
expression taut with worry. Fell never thought he’d miss the lazy smirk on
Swap’s face, but right now, he’d give anything to wipe that doubt from Swap’s
features—that hesitant, shaky cautiousness that had no place on the face of
someone who was normally so at ease. “Fell, do you remember what happened…
before you left?” Swap asked, quietly.

Fell sighed, downing the last of
his coffee and placing the mug in the sink beside him. “We fucked.”

Fell ignored the way his soul
warmed slightly when the corners of Swap’s mouth turned up. “You know it was
more than that, asshole.”

“Was it? I don’t recall.” Even
Fell could hear how unconvincing he sounded. In truth, his… intimacy with Swap
had been on his mind just as much as the incident with the Astigmatism had.
Under different circumstances, Fell might have been elated by the fact that he
and Swap had finally broken one of their cardinal rules—finally done away with
the ridiculous pretence that their arrangement didn’t mean anything. But given
the situation, he found himself instead trying very hard not to lose his mind
over the broken rule. The rules had been one thing he’d still had to cling
onto—a lifeline of sorts, something to establish some order into the chaos
battling in his mind.

He flinched as Swap’s fingers
brushed against his own, and as he looked up, he could feel his walls crumbling
around him. “Fell…” Swap was standing so close, Fell could smell the scent of
him—the scent that brought him back to that night, Swap wrapped so tightly in
his arms, when everything had been—

No, no, no—he couldn’t let himself think about that. He couldn’t… “Fell,
if… if that night meant anything—please, tell
me what happened.”

Fell was quivering, his hand
shaking where it was clasped in Swap’s. He tried to look away, but Swap cupped
his face gently with the palm of his hand, turning him so that their eyes met.
Fell could feel the prickling tears returning, the lump reforming in his
throat, his stability quickly dwindling. “Rule number fourteen,” he managed to
choke. “No personal questions.”

Swap smiled, a quiet laugh
escaping him as he shook his head, refusing to let Fell look away. And there
was so much damn warmth in his eyes.
So much empathy and compassion. Fell almost felt sick, his soul churning in
confusion at the relentless waves of emotion crashing over him. “Rule number
fifteen—since we’re just throwing them around now—” Swap shook his head with a
small smile “—no more keeping things to yourself. Fell…” Swap leaned forward,
pressing their foreheads together, and whispering, “let me help you. I can…”

Fell pushed him away abruptly,
Swap staggering slightly. “Don’t,” Fell
hissed, the word fuelled with venom. “I don’t want your fucking help. I don’t need it.”

Swap watched him for a moment,
something sad seeping into his expression. But it was the small smirk that
crept onto his face that seemed to break something within Fell. “I thought I
told you not to push me away, brat.
Heh.”

Fell was still for a moment, his
soul lurching at the comfort the pun seemed to bring. It spread a wrenching
warmth through him, and he clutched the kitchen counter, failing to steady his
breath as the tears began to fall. “I—I didn’t do it, okay!” he cried, voice
cracking.

Swap blinked for a moment,
frowning. “Didn’t do what?”

Fell shook his head, failing to
fight the tears trailing slowly from his eye sockets. “I didn’t—I didn’t kill
that monster. I… I couldn’t do it.” Fell choked slightly as he gasped, burying
his face in one of his shaking hands, trying to hide his tears. “I couldn’t…
I—”

Fell could picture that night now—the
way the seconds had seemed to elapse in slow motion, his entire mind and soul
consumed by confusing waves of instability and doubt—brought on by both his LOVE,
and his feelings for Swap. The excruciating battle between two overwhelming impulses;
the way his magic had shattered before him, unable to deliver that final blow.
The utter shame that had followed…

“Fell…” Swap’s hand was on his
arm, hesitant, but comforting. “Why…?”

“Because,” Fell gasped, still
clutching onto the counter, as if it might steady his emotions. “Because I—I
couldn’t go on—knowing what you’d think of me—how you’d see me if I did it… I couldn’t…” He looked up at Swap, releasing
another heavy sob at the pure empathy in Swap’s expression. “All—all I could
think about was… the look on your face if I’d… You—you would’ve hated me! You
would’ve—”

Fell broke off with a gasp as
Swap wrapped his arms around him, holding him steady as he tried to stifle his
sobs. “It’s okay, Fell,” Swap soothed, running a gentle hand down his spine.
Fell could hear the relief in Swap’s tone, and his breath hitched, the tears
starting to flow steadily. “I could never hate you, you idiot. Never.”

“It’s—it’s not,” Fell breathed.
“It’s not okay. I may as well have—the fact that you even thought there was a possibility that I might have done it—”

“But you didn’t,” Swap insisted, drawing away to hold Fell’s gaze. “You
didn’t do it, Fell. I knew you didn’t do it. I—I knew…” Swap released a shaky
breath of relief, seeming unable to stop the smile stretching across his face.

But Fell was still shaking his
head, his breaths unsteady. “Then—then why were you so persistent? Why did you
keep asking—if you knew, then why—”

“Because I needed you to say it,
Fell—because you needed to say it.
You needed to admit that you’re… that you’re more than just some dumb fucking
number.”

“I—I’m not, Swap—it’s not just
a—a number,” Fell sobbed, clutching his skull in his hands as he tried
fruitlessly to stop the tears. “I’m not—I’m still a killer. I could’ve done it.
I wanted to do it. I—”

“Then why didn’t you?” Swap
asked, regarding Fell with sincerity.

Fell was stunned. He felt
frozen—in mind and in body. He was shaking uncontrollably; unbalanced,
confused, overwhelmed. This was all too much. His mind couldn’t process what
was happening—how Swap had somehow managed to tear down his walls, leaving him
feeling weak and exposed—and somehow comfortable and protected at the same
time. Even as Swap gently pried his hands away from his face, holding them
steady, Fell shook his head, soul withering in his chest. “I—can’t,” he choked.
“Don’t Swap—please, don’t make me say it, I can’t—I can’t say it.”

Swap smiled, the expression faint
but earnest, and nodded calmly. “It’s alright, it’s okay—you don’t have to. I…
I’ll say it.” Fell bit back against the sobs wracking his chest, letting Swap
cup the back of his neck, tilting his head upward. Swap’s eyes were gentle, the
softness of his gaze allowing a small prickle of calm settle in Fell’s soul.
“Do you remember how our arrangement started?” Swap asked. “It was right here,
in this kitchen.” He laughed, quietly, shaking his head. “Hey Fell—two horny
idiots walk into a kitchen—”

“Swap, I—if you start now, I
swear, I’ll—”

Swap chuckled, shaking his head.
“Sorry. Force of habit.” He glanced around for a moment, something akin to fondness
in his eyes. “We kissed here—right here. For the first time. Do you remember?”
Fell could only nod, still struggling to hold back his tears, although now it
wasn’t so much out of pain as it was confusion—an overwhelming amount of warm
satisfaction mingling with the small part of him that was still too afraid to lay
himself bare. “Hm.” Swap looked at Fell, and it suddenly occurred to him how
close they were standing. He could feel Swap’s breaths on his face, the sweet
smell of him in the atmosphere. But Swap glanced away, looking thoughtful. “I
have a new rule,” he said, quietly.

Fell sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Swap. Enough with the d-damn rules.” His voice still shook slightly with his
lingering sobs, but there was an element of humour in it, and he struggled to
keep the small smile off his face.

Swap grinned, still appearing
contemplative as he looked up at Fell with a shake of his head. “It’s actually
an old rule—the first one I came up with.”

Fell frowned. “The first rule
was—”

“I didn’t tell you this one,”
Swap said. “It was… kind of just something I kept for myself—to stop me from
taking things too far.” He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I was such an
idiot. You know, I… I sort of proposed the whole stupid arrangement thing
because I thought it might help me get you out of my system.” Swap glanced at
Fell, shrugging. “Didn’t work.”

Fell swallowed, heat flowing
through his bones and pooling in his mouth. Swap’s proximity was stirring his
magic—and in a far more pleasant way than he’d been experiencing this past
week. He could still feel the tears drying on his cheekbones, and he reached up
to wipe them away. Swap inched ever so slightly closer, one of his hands
looping around Fell’s back, the other drawing Fell’s hand away from his cheek.
For a brief moment, Fell tensed, his mind reeling. But as Swap began to speak
again, his soft voice seemed to soothe the rigidity of Fell’s bones, relaxing
him.

“I… came up with this rule. It
was…” Swap shook his head, chuckling to himself as if there was some inside
joke Fell was missing. “You know, it’s kind of pointless making a rule you’ve
already broken.” Swap’s gaze darted to Fell’s mouth, hovering there for a
moment. Fell caught a brief glimpse of his tongue, flickering at the corner of
his teeth. “But I suppose I may as well tell you, since… since I’m so fucking
tired of keeping it to myself.”

Fell’s soul thrummed in his
chest, his own tongue already having formed in his mouth. He could feel the
heat of Swap’s magic, radiating from his body, which was pressed up against his
own. Swap’s hand was still around his waist, and he could feel his fingers
deftly tracing over his iliac crest, sending shivers down his spine. “Swap…” he
breathed.

Swap cupped his jaw, meeting his
gaze with a fierceness that suddenly seemed so out of place in contrast to his
soft touches on Fell’s bones. His eye-lights were burning with heated golden
magic, and Fell could feel his ragged breaths against his face. “Rule number
sixteen, Fell,” Swap whispered, his tone almost desperate, “don’t fall in
love.”

Fell had no composure left, no
control—and no desire to restrain himself any longer. He pressed forward,
crushing their mouths together in an earnest kiss. He immediately felt Swap’s
magic meeting his own, and allowed himself to revel in its sweetness, letting Swap
explore every inch of him; hands trailing down his spine, stroking gently over
his jaw, tongue intertwining with Fell’s own magic. It felt like a weight had
been lifted from his soul, which was burning brightly in his chest.

He grasped onto Swap’s hoodie,
pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He couldn’t get enough—he couldn’t hold
back any longer. It was as if every emotion he’d been trying to supress had
suddenly been released, channelling into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around
the back of Swap’s neck, trying to urge him forward, pull him closer—he needed more. It was euphoria. It was utter
bliss, and Fell didn’t want it to end.

But as it was with all good
things, the kiss did end. Swap broke away, gasping. His eye-lights were wild
with ecstatic magic, the gold burning deeply as he stared at Fell, panting
slightly. Fell’s hands were still clutched desperately around the back of
Swap’s neck, and every shred of magic in his body was screaming at him that
this was right. This was perfect.

Eventually, Swap seemed to gather
enough composure to give a small, shaky laugh. He tried to draw away, but Fell
held him firmly, wanting nothing more than for this moment to last forever.
“So, uh…” Swap began, hand twisting almost unconsciously in Fell’s shirt, “you
on board with the new rule?”

A smile spread across Fell’s
face, and he laughed, shaking his head. “Swap—what’s the point of a rule that
we’ve both already broken?”

Swap’s smile grew slightly, the
corner of his mouth tugging up. “Both…?” he asked hesitantly, eyes searching
Fell’s face.

Fell nodded, pressing their teeth
together again, the kiss soft and tender, spreading a deep satisfaction through
his soul. “Both,” he whispered as they broke away, resting his head on Swap’s
shoulder. “I love you.”

Sixteen Rules – Chapter Six

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8

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.”