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Picking up strays

Chapter Text

Sans riffles through his pockets as he heads to Grillby's, checking to see if he has even 1g to give to the elemental. Grillby wouldn't really fault him for not having money, he knows everything Sans makes goes to Papyrus and bills, and even a couple of charities when he scrounges up enough, but Sans still feels a bit bad everytime he eats there for free. Even a single gold would help in making him not feel like a freeloader. It would seem as though he was not in luck, the little he had had been given away to some human beggar who looked sickly and all that was left in his pockets is his phone and a half melted piece of hard candy. He looks at the flavoring, grimacing at the words declaring it to be black licorice, and shoves it back in his pocket to be forgotten till a later date. He then begins to study the ground as he walks, hoping that someone had dropped some money, even human currency (which is apparently dropped frequently if the stories some of his customers tell are true) would be better than nothing, though not worth much on this side of the city.


A thump from the alley beside him distracts his treasure hunting. Sans looks over, straightening up when he sees another skeleton monster that looks suspiciously like him slumped over, holding himself up on the wall with what looks to be some serious effort. Sans looks around for anyone to help him out with the guy only to find the road as abandoned as just five minutes ago. Why did he always go walking when there was absolutely no one?


“Hey.” Sans calls to the monster in the alley, “Ya doin’ alright?”


His doppelganger looks up quickly, his red eyelights wavering for a few seconds before focusing on Sans. They were still slightly fuzzy, so he probably wasn't doing so good on magic right now. The expression crossing his face suggests that he heard the question and seems to think it's a stupid one. Sans can't help but to agree.


“Okay, um. Let's get ya to a hospital.” Sans says, smiling as he slowly moves forward.


“No…” The guy mutters in a nicely deep and gruff voice, “No hospitals.”


“But-” He starts to protest, cutting himself off when the guy lurches forward and starts falling to the ground. In less than half a second Sans is grabbing him by the waist and hefting the guy up with a quiet ‘alley-oop’.


“I don't even have yer name.” He grumbles as his magic starts to swirl around him, getting ready for a shortcut. He has half a mind to drag his doppelgangers unconscious ass to a hospital anyway, but… Fells tend to not be accepted in most hospitals because of their violent tendencies, and the ones that would accept him would have him caged like an animal within moments of even stepping past the doors. Not to mention that any hospital in a Fell area couldn't be trusted to actually care for a monster, he's read the reports, hell, he's even been to a few and had them shut down for malpractice and straight up patient abuse and death from the careless hands of the doctors. He couldn't do that to the guy.


Stepping out of the shortcut, Sans allows his knees to buckle. He falls onto his bed and releases his guest. This was just great. What was he planning to do with the guy? Fells tend to be unruly at the best of times and murderous at the worst. If this Fell wakes up and decides that he's in a bad mood… he'll cross that bridge when the guy wakes up. With him being unconscious Sans can see if he has any injuries, treat them, then just let the guy walk out with maybe a candy or two. Yeah, that way there'll be no confrontation. Papyrus wasn't scheduled to come back from his trip to Italy for another two weeks, Sans can wait for this guy to wake up. It's not like he has anything better to do right now.


Shuffling off his bed, he quickly walks over to his closet and pulls out a medkit from under piles of clothes. Opening the kit, he looks through it to see if he needs to go out and get more supply. He closes it up again and tosses it onto his nightstand, glad to find a lot of bandages and healing gel left; asking for more is one favor that Sans doesn't want from Grillby.


Grabbing his blanket, Sans tosses it onto the floor, doing the same with his pillows, he didn't want any blood or too much dust getting on them. The sheets will have to stay if only to slightly protect his bed from anything this guy might shed. Now with his bedding out of the way and safe, he begins to undress the other skeleton starting with his well used and dirty sneakers. After taking off his yellow, maybe once white socks, Sans reaches for the guys jacket, he struggles getting the limp body out of the piece of clothing. Once it's finally off, Sans tosses the puffy jacket to the side, giving it a slight glare for his trouble as it goes and hits the ground with a thwump. With that off he can already see the Fell better. The red wool shirt made the blood blend in, but without the overly huge jacket the blood soaking the shirt is now easily noticeable from the darker patches, and the lumps that were hidden are now easily seen, indicating a few broken ribs.


“Shit.” Sans whispers, hunting through the medkit for a pair of scissors to cut the shirt off with. The guy surely wouldn't like it but Sans couldn't risk him dusting in his bed while he's struggling to pull the piece of clothing off him. Cutting up the middle, Sans pulls the shirt pieces to the side and looks at the other's ribs. He turns away and gags, trying not to puke as the image plays in his mind. His ribs had so many cracks, one was even missing and it didn't look fresh. Blood is still leaking slowly down his bones, pumping through the breakings with each soul beat in an imitation of a human heart.


Taking a calming breath, Sans shortcuts his way into the kitchen. He opens the cabinets, hunting around for a big bowl and fills it up with water, grabbing a few rags before taking his new cargo and short cutting back to his room. Dipping one of the rags into the bowl, Sans looks over the Fell monster again. Hopefully he'll look better with the blood cleaned up. He sets to work, resigning himself to hours of cleaning blood from this guy's bones and resetting a few while trying not to puke at the sound and feel of bone scraping on bone. His own bones shudder as another rib snaps back into place with a sickening crack, his soul rolling in his chest, creating this nauseous feeling. He clenches his jaw tightly as he's hit with another round of nausea, pulling his hands back and taking a deep breath to calm down. It would do no good to accidently dust the guy just because Sans is squeamish.


With the guys ribs cleaned and looking at least somewhat straight, Sans grabs the bandages, looking at them as he tries to decide on how he's going to wrap them around the unconscious skeletons ribs. A groan exits his mouth as Sans's mind comes up with a solution. He stumbles over to his closet, legs numb from about an hour of sitting on them. Ruffling through his clothes, he pulls out an old shirt and jogging pants covered in various stains, quickly putting them on. Sans then goes back to the bed, settling on his knees by the guys head. He hooks his hands under the guys arms and carefully pulls him toward Sans, watching each rib so as to make sure they don't get jumbled out of place again.


With the Fell monster positioned in a way that'll make it easier for Sans to wrap the bandages around his ribs, he reaches out for the needed medical supplies. A grunt of irritation forces itself out of him as he finds the bandages just out of his reach. What happened to all his smarts? He evaluates high end buildings and decides whether to shut them down or not, so why can't he remember to keep the stupid bandages close enough to use?


Slowly, he shuffles over on his bed, moving close enough to grab the bandages. Snatching them off the nightstand, Sans then reaches for the healing gel. Pulling it to him and opening the lid, Sans dips his fingers in and begins rubbing the gel onto the Fell's ribs. After getting a sufficient amount of green goop over them, he wraps the ribs in the bandages. He can already see the healing gel working quickly, hear it too. While the sound isn't as bad as pushing ribs back in place, it was still one that makes Sans hurry in his wrapping. With that now done, Sans carefully and slowly slides out from under the monster, gently lowering him down onto the bed. He grabs the healing gel again, slicking up any cut he sees before wrapping them to heal.


By the time he finishes, his look-alike instead now resembles a mummy more than a skeleton. A quiet snicker leaves his mouth as he runs his hands down his face, massaging the stress out as well as he could before pulling them away and noticing the blood and gel still gooped on his phalanges and between his joints. It is disgusting and uncomfortable and he can't believe that he forgot this stuff was there.


“Should’a worn gloves.” He mutters as he shuffles his way out of his room and to the bathroom to clean up, confident that there was nothing left for him to do.


Taking a glance at the mirror, Sans grimaces at the red and green smeared across his forehead and nasal bump. No doubt it was all caked on his lids too. With an over exaggerated sigh, Sans pulls the dirty shirt over his head and tries his best to wipe off as much muck and grime from his hands as he can, tossing the shirt into the trash can because like hell he's going to try salvaging that old thing. The jogging pants don't have much blood on them and it's not like he wears them out anyways, so he leaves those to soak in the sink with water and soap to later be tossed into the washer.


Turning the shower head on, Sans steps into the shower, shivering as the cold water hits his bones. He turns his face to the stream of water, letting the slowly warming liquid wash away the blood and gel on its own for a few minutes. He scrubs his hands across his face to help get rid of any lingering blood and gel before picking up a halloween themed wash rag and squirting on some body wash (lemon scented). He scrubs at his face and hands with the cloth, making sure to get between the joints of his hands. Hands and face now free of gag inducing liquids, he moves on to the rest of his body. Clean and smelling of lemons, Sans just stands under the pounding pressure, letting the water beat on his back. He stays there, trying not to think about his day but ultimately failing.


Was it smart to bring this unknown monster into his home? What if this now makes him a target? Would this Fell monster appreciate his kindness, or take advantage of him and then try to kill him? Would Papyrus be coming home to a war on their front lawn, or a pile of dust in his living room? Never knowing that his brother had tried to do good and paid the ultimate price?


He turns the water off and steps out of the shower. It was getting cold, anyways. Unfortunately, his thoughts don't circle down the drain and away from him like the water does. Now all he can think about is his younger brother finding his dust. The horrified look on his face, the desperation as he calls out for Sans only to be met with silence. The crushing truth that would bring him to his knees. He'll live on, because Paps is cool like that, might even start acting like himself and he'll always be willing to lend a hand, but he will never be the same.


With a short sob, Sans hugs his towel close to his chest, trying to shake his thoughts off as he gets back to drying his bones. He's not dead yet. Papyrus won't come back to his dust. Sans isn't much of a fighter but he can run. He has shortcuts on his side. Sure, they might have to kiss the house and all of their belongings goodbye, but Paps won't be coming back to an empty house of dust. He keeps telling himself that he won't die as he ties the towel to his waist and walks out of the bathroom. He enters his room, watching the still passed out monster as he digs around for some clean clothing. He decides that today might as well be laundry day too, and shortcuts into the laundry room, shoving a load of clothes into the wash alongside his old sweat pants. Back in his room, Sans grabs one of the few shirts left (a pure black one that had been hanging up) and some jeans that look fairly new. Taking one last look at his guest, he shortcuts into the living room and quickly puts on his clothes. The towel is placed on the back of the couch to be dealt with later.


Spotting his phone halfway lodged in the couch cushions, Sans plucks it up and checks it for any new messages. Just one from Papyrus that greatly details his day, bringing a smile to Sans's face. His eye then catches the time, his phone basically glaring out at him that it's now 10:13 at night and his bones remind him that he has yet to eat, softly rattling in protest. With a groan of exasperation, Sans tosses his phone on the coffee table and flopped down on the couch, too tired to deal with making food or shortcutting to Grillby's. He instead pulls a bottle of ketchup from his inventory, halfway empty and non-virgin, and downs the rest. There, that should suffice until the morning.


Slinging his arm over his eyes, Sans lays there, waiting for the heat and dizziness to wash over him and help drag him down to sleep. It didn't take long for his restless magic to absorb the alcohol into his SOUL and disperse it throughout his body, his mind being drowned under its soothing effects. His breathing evens out and his consciousness slowly succumbs to sleep.

Chapter Text

Red never expected to open his eyes again. His day had been such bullshit from the earlier than usual rising to him winding up alone in an alley, resulting in a major beat down. When he was finally able to shake the guys off long enough to take a shortcut, he couldn't think worth a damn and simply choose to wind up far away. How far, you may ask? He couldn't tell you. He does remember seeing a monster, a Light one with no scars and such eye catching clothes…


Fucking Hell… he's in the Light part of town, isn't he? Is this what a hospital ceiling looks like? Red's inclined to say no, no it is not. From what he's heard, everything is white and sterile smelling, which would make sense, even hospitals in his part of town keep everything at least somewhat clean from what little he's seen, but it was never safe to even look over there so he couldn't ever get a good look. Besides, Lights can't be stupid enough to allow a Fell free roam of a fucking hospital full of easy exp., that's just asking for trouble.


Turning his head takes a considerable amount of effort. His skull flops over to the side, giving him a view of an unfamiliar room. Clothes lay about the ground, scattered in a way that looks random but Red feels like actually has a system. A trash tornado spins in a corner, big enough to carry cups and food wrappings along with a few clothing items. He could honestly say he was impressed, his own tornadoes are small and only carry lint for the couple of days they live. Maybe he could ask for a few tips before killing whoever owns it.


Red takes a deep breath, trying to gather himself before moving, but the sudden movement of just that one action brings the pain from the back of his mind to the forefront. He chokes on the breath as it leaves his body, sending him into a coughing fit that brings only more mind numbing pain. His body curls into a ball, hands grabbing at his chest. Why did skeleton monsters need to breathe? It's so stupid and fucking sucks. He rubs his head into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as another coughing fit takes over. Once that's done, he stays lying on his side, trying to push the pain back down. It takes more than a few minutes, maybe even an hour, but he's finally able to move.


Slowly, he reaches an arm out and looks at it, studying his bones that were currently wrapped in some high end bandages. Green goop could be seen crusted around the edges, giving away the healing gel slathered across his whole body. No wonder he feels icky with all this shit crusting on him.


Taking another moment to mentally prepare himself, Red heaves his body into a sitting position. He stays there, groaning, as every nerve ending he so obviously does not have lights up in objection. After he's taken note of all his bodies complaints, he carefully maneuvers his way to the edge of the bed. His legs slide across the mattress, his feet tapping onto the ground and sending even more complaints to his mind.


At this point he stopped and asked himself if maybe he should just go back to laying down, consequences be damned. Then the glowering face of Boss enters his mind and he's suddenly reminded that no, he cannot just go back to laying down, because the consequences will not be nice. Boss will, without a doubt, track Red down and tear into his ass in a not fun way if he found his older brother just laying around in some persons house. Bad enough he already got his ass beat on the streets for being a moron. He was just so used to having Boss around that he didn't stop and think.


With that little pep talk out of the way, Red pushes himself to a stand. He grins, a moment of self satisfaction coursing through his body has him already moving to take a step, which is when he finds himself moving towards the ground in an unplanned way, his body crumpling like a sub too far underwater. He barely stops another tooth from being knocked out of his skull as he hits the ground hard. Pain races up his spine and he blinks his eyes open. At least these clothes somewhat cushioned his fall.


With a curse, Red pushes himself onto all fours, crawling toward the door. Undignified, yes, but he couldn't care less at this moment. He figures that if no one came in already from all the ruckus he was making, then there was no one here to see him do the pub crawl. Or to open the surprisingly unlocked door when he gets there.


Peering out, Red sees a pretty boring hallway that he seems to be at the end of. There is another door directly ahead of him, opened to show a clean bathroom. Not Boss level clean, but definitely better than this shitshow of a bedroom he's leaning out of. A little way down, right by the stairs, is another door, this one closed and with that yellow police tape Red likes to gift his brother draped across it. The carpet is shagg, which is nice and cozy for if he winds up taking a face plant.


The gruff skeleton shuffles his way into the hallway, using the door handle to pull himself up. Alright, he cannot fall again. Putting his weight on the wall, Red slowly edges his way down the hall, only stopping once he's reached the other room. Turning the knob, he finds it locked, which only serves to pique his curiosity. However, now is not the time for wandering. Red tests his leg strength, deciding that yeah, he could try again. Pushing off the door, he takes a wobbly step forward. He can feel the grimace on his face, but ain't anyone here to judge him for it. He takes another two steps then grabs onto the railing, once again supporting his weight. Looking down, he sees no one in the living room. no one sitting on the couch watching TV, or playing with the pet rock, or even reading that mighty fine joke book sitting there. Man, Red is so taking that with him when he goes home. More to the point, ain't anybody here watching him; a Fell in this light's house. What kind of dumbass is this guy? Or girl, Red couldn't care less, they were dust soon no matter the gender. Red is, after all, an equal opportunistic killer.


He slips around the bannestar to the first step, taking it nice and slow as he goes down. When he reaches the bottom, he tries to walk to the couch, having to resort to crawling half way. Finally making it to the couch, Red hauls himself up onto the cushions and rests there, looking around and noting what he couldn't see before. A door under the stairs is closed, there's an entrance to a small dining room that undoubtedly leads to a kitchen. The TV remote is up by the TV instead of in between the couch seats like Red would have guessed based off of the junky feeling. Ya know what, if the remote isn't under a cushion, then what the hell is? Digging around for a few seconds has him pulling up some gold coins. Fucking jack-pot, baby.


Going to stash them in his pockets, Red is made completely aware that he is without clothing of any kind. He simply blinks down at the rags covering him very poorly. His grin sharpens as he thinks of the ways he's going to skin this perve. They better not have been touchy while he was unconscious because he'll get touchy right back, only they won't be happy about it.


Putting those plans on the back burner, Red's eyelights glance over to the door under the stairs. Well, he's alone, who could blame him from wanting to explore his captors home?




Placing the 5g he managed to scrounge up on the counter, Sans takes only the bag and small bottle of ketchup offered to him, waving off the choice of a meal. He didn't need to eat today. Today, he needs to think. He heads over to a corner booth to do so, slightly hidden in the shadows and situated so he's able to watch the crowd. The ketchup bottle is brought to his teeth and he downs a big gulp.


This Fell monster has been in his house for three days now. Three days of undressing and redressing his wounds. Three days of looking at those scared bones. Three days watching his doors and windows with little rest as paranoia seeps into his mind. He was barely able to make himself eat a bag of chips during this time, only having left the house now out of necessity. He ran out of ketchup, both virgin and non, so now he's on a supply run. One would think that with his high paying job, Sans could make enough money to eat, but one would be wrong. Well, to be fair, they would be right but wrong in the sense that everything that doesn't go to the house goes to Papyrus. Yes, Sans makes a lot of money, no, he doesn't use much of it on himself. Besides, Papyrus was always the cook out of the two of them.


A rowdy voice pulls Sans from his musing. He looks up, focusing on the monsters before him. The dog pack had come in, yipping and yapping as they talk about their day in dog language. If Sans focused on the words being said, then he could understand, but he wasn't in the mood to find out about the doggi's day and their undying love for each other, or Doggo's problem reigning in the teens, he didn't even feel like watching Lesser lose to himself at poker or petting Greater as he sits there like a good boy waiting for his food.


Watching them for a few more moments, Sans concludes that they aren't going to bother him as they quickly make their way over to the other side of the bar and order their kibble. He himself gets back to nursing his drink, glancing down at the bag holding a week's worth of ketchup and firmly telling himself that he will not drink them all here. He has to get home and check on his guest. A guest that he would not in a million years predicted to have.


Finishing off his bottle, Sans grabs the bag and takes a shortcut to the outside of the bar, appearing at the back entrance. He didn't feel like running into anyone who would get him talking but at the same time, he isn't stupid enough to show up freshly drunk where an active Fell may be. Fluffing up his thin jacket, he begins walking. His eyelights remain focused on the sidewalk, taking in anything he'll need to dodge from his peripherals.


His mind wanders back to the stranger sleeping in his bed, which he might have nicknamed Felly. He was concerned. The guy had been sleeping for three days, not even flinching when Sans had accidentally hit him. Sans just thanked his lucky stars that he's too weak to even leave a bruise. Thinking about it still gives him a twinge of guilt. His injuries were getting better though, if not as quickly as Sans would like. He was even able to unwrap the dudes head before leaving.


Sans slows to a stop, looking up at his house. He got here sooner than he expected. The setting sun reflects off the windows, making his house look alive with a fiery warmth, which has actually happened too many times to count. He digs into his pockets, pulling out his ring of keys and picking out the one to his house. He pushes it into the lock and twists it with a click. The door swings open easily and he enters his house. Nothing seems out of order as he shuffles his way through the door. He closes and locks it behind himself, walking to the kitchen to put away his bottles.


After putting the groceries in the fridge, Sans turns and walks to the couch. He grabs the remote, turning the TV on to the science channel. He'll want to sit down and listen to something once he's done checking on Felly. A shortcut has him standing in the middle of his room. A quick look at his bed and his soul stops. Felly wasn't in bed. Looking around, he doesn't see the fell anywhere in the room. It would be wishful thinking to say he wasn't anywhere in the house, the front door was locked and Sans has yet to check on the back door, though it looked like it was also locked when he was in the kitchen.


Edging his way to the door, Sans puts his head against it, listening for any movement. Not hearing anything over the TV, he curses himself. He just had to think ahead, didn't he? This was so stupid, what did he expect by bringing in a Fell? For life to be easy? What a joke that he played on himself. Opening the door slowly, he looks down the hallway. Seeing no one, he tiptoes into the bathroom. Swinging the mirror open, Sans searches through the bottom shelf of bottles for  his sleeping pills. He never liked taking them and only ever used them when Papyrus was around to hear him. He tips a couple pills in his hand, enough to knock out even Papyrus for a few hours, and slips them into his pocket. Placing everything back in its spot, Sans makes his way down the hall, peering over the banister as he goes to watch for movement. he makes it downstairs without incident, watching the laundry room door, as that can be the only place he's hiding in. Too bad it doesn't have a lock.


Once in the kitchen, Sans hurries to grab a cup and fill it with water. Taking a moment, he sees the hook still on the back door, telling him that Felly did not leave. He takes the butcher knife from the knife block, relieved to find all knives there (not that the Fell couldn't use magic, it was just one less thing to worry about). Using the knife, he expertly chops the pills into tiny bits, crushing them further down into powder with the flat of the blade. He puts the cup at the edge of the counter, swiping the powder into the water and mixing it. Using the sleeve of his jacket, he wipes up the leftover powder off the counter top and the blade, placing the knife back in its holder. He digs through a drawer for the kool aid packs they keep for when Frisk visits.


Once the kool aid is mixed in Sans takes a moment to just breathe. His hands grip the counter, mind racing on how he could possibly get Felly to drink this stuff. Fells weren't trusting, they couldn't be with where they live, so even though Sans has done nothing but help, he could very well end up dead with one wrong step.


In the process of leaning his head back, his eyelights catch sight of a set of jars. A set of four pottery jars that Asgore gave Sans as a giftmas present a few years back when the skeleton first moved out on his own. In three of them is the typical flower, sugar, and salt that every household has, but in the largest is healing powder to be mixed in with drinks and food that Papyrus insisted on getting. If he puts in about a scoop and makes a bit of a mess in the process… Felly just might be willing to take a drink. After that, Sans can drop him off in a park or something. Okay, he hasn't thought that far ahead, but he doesn't really want to deal with an awake Fell monster.


Sliding the jar his way, Sans pops open the lid and grabs the spoon inside. He scoops up the green, sparkly substance and dumps it in the gel, watching as the magic activates enough to mix itself in, leaving Sans standing there with slightly purple but mostly red, sparkling, drugged kool aid. The spoon is set down on the counter with a clink. He doesn't bother trying to clean things up. Taking a deep breath, because this could go oh, so horribly wrong, Sans turns to walk toward the laundry room.


He winds up jumping a bit and taking a startled step back, clutching the glass cup to his chest like a lifeline. In the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame is a clothed Felly grinning at him with sharp teeth and bright red eyes. How could he not notice someone sneaking up behind him? More importantly, how long was the Fell monster there, and how much did he see?

Chapter Text

Getting to the laundry room wasn't that big of a deal for Red. He could feel the strength returning to his bones the longer he moved and was awake. Must have been out for longer than a few hours to get to this point, which doesn't come as a surprise to the skeleton. That beat down was one of the worst he's gotten in a while, he's surprised he hasn't lost another rib, though that bit is probably in thanks to whatever stupidass Light monster decided to pick him up and bring him here. He's heard of these guys, has even seen a few on his side of town in cages, preaching about friendship and forgiveness. All before a Fell gets their hands on them, of course.


Opening the laundry door, Red immediately spots his jacket, almost sparkly clean and hung up all neat like. The last time he saw the thing that clean was when he first got it years ago. Ah, memories… It had taken him hours of working mud into it without damaging the fur or fabric so that he didn't shine like a reflector in any dark alleyways. It takes away his ability to hide and surprise attack any unsuspecting monsters. Unhooking his jacket, Red gives it a sniff. The scent of lavender rises into his nostrils. He guesses the jacket could stay like this for now, not that there was any mud to work with here in this clean house, just normal dust.


Red slings the jacket over his bones, zipping it up. He's never been happier that the thing is two sizes too large and reaches him mid-thigh, it makes things a little less awkward for him. He debates for a moment about whether he should take off the bandages or leave them on, deciding to just leave them alone till he has clothes to better cover him and maybe when he's able to take a shower. Stars, there are few things he wouldn't do right now for a shower. Maybe he'll take one before he leaves.


The opening of a door distracts him. He listens as it shuts, he hears some clinking in what he is best guessing to be the kitchen, the TV being turned on just a few minutes later. It seems the moronic Light is now home. Red tries to listen over the sound of the TV (did this guy put it on the science channel?), but can't make out much over its chatter. This Light moves surprisingly quiet. Putting his hand on the handle after a few moments of quiet, Red gets ready to peak out and see what's going on but a very light creaking from the stairs above his head stops him. If his senses weren't cranked to ten on the daily, he wouldn't have ever noticed. Though, he doesn't understand how they got up there without him noticing because they are now going down, and they seem to be going down cautiously. Noticed a little fellow missing, now did they?


Leaning against the door, Red patiently waits. He listens closely for any sounds over that stupid TV, barely hearing the clinking of glass. What's this Light doing? Awe, they making him a drink? Probably going to drug him to make dealing with him easier, it's what he would do if he was trying to keep an unwanted alive for whatever dumbass reason instead of, ya know, locking them in the basement like a reasonable captor. Lights are so fucking stupid. Red's probably their first, he's touched, though clearly they need some lessons. Maybe he'll give some pointers. First, he'll show them the true meaning of quiet as he sneaks up behind them, then he'll show them just what drugs can do by forcing them to drink whatever concoction they've made. Oh, the terror in their eyes as they wonder what he'll do when they sleep will be great. He can already feel his LOVE itching beneath his skin just thinking about it. His claws wrapping around their throat to better make sure they swallow. The complete power of being in control of another person's life.


He opens the door slow enough that it doesn't make any noise. Digging his claws out of the wood that he had absentmindedly ripped into. He slips through, not bothering to risk making noise by shutting the door behind him. His skeletal feet make not one sound as he walks across the carpeted floor. Not that he had to be all that careful with the frantic tink tink tink of metal against glass. He passes the couch and TV quickly (Bill Nye, this Light's got taste), reaching the doorway to the kitchen. Peering out, Red stops for a second, his soul slowing in surprise. What are the odds that not only would a Light bring him to their house like a moron, but they would be a cute, fuckable little skeleton? Especially one that seems to be his tinier, weaker, blue-er doppelganger.


His double pulls a spoon from a cup full of purplish liquid. What was that supposed to be? It was glittering, for crying out loud! Man, cute he may be, but bright he apparently is not. What moron would drink such altered liquid from a stranger? Leaning against the door frame, Red waits for the few seconds it takes for the light to turn and spot him, grinning as his double jumps back and clutches onto the cup like a lifeline.


"Well, hey there, sweetheart." Red rumbles out, watching as the other skeleton frantically looks around. The backdoor behind his double was locked, so if the guy went for it, those few precious seconds would be wasted trying to unlock it and Red would definitely be able to get his hands on him.


Pushing off the frame, Red swaggers up to the skeleton. He slowly takes the drink from the frozen monsters hands and places it all neat like on the counter. His other hand finds a home on the lights shoulder, feeling as the smaller jumps at the contact. He uses his thumb to lightly and slowly trace shapes and symbols on the others collar bone, liking how uncomfortable he's looking.


"So, buddy…" Red begins, grin sharpening. He focuses his eyelights, making them flare brighter in their unstable red coloring.


"It's not poisoned." The light interrupts him, blurting out what Red was actually just about to address. He's unimpressed with this new 'fact' he's given and his double sees that if the increased panic in his face is anything to go by.


Not even bothering for pleasantries any more, Red uses his grip on the others shoulder, forcefully turning him to look at the glass. Both his hands move to the smaller skeletons waist and he pushes with his body weight. His head rests in the junction between shoulder and neck.


"If it's not poisoned, then you drink it." Red whispers into the side of his doubles skull.




Sans can barely hear over the rushing in his head. His hands lay flat on the counter as Felly's words echo in his mind. 'If it's not poisoned, then you drink it.' He can feel the hands gripping his waist till it hurts, the hot breath of the other on the side of his head, the counter digging into his hips as he's pushed from behind. He can't even short it without bringing Felly along. The only thing he has left is his words.


"I made it for you." Sans begins, trying to keep his voice steady but not quite managing it. Fells don't like it when you show fear, they won't listen to you because you're a weakling who's only worth the exp. they can get out killing you. Sans is trying to show he's not dangerous and that he's worth more than exp. (no one would get much out him with one everything anyways, so he's usually safe-ish after a Fell's checked him, but Felly hasn't checked him once so he doesn't know that Sans is useless dead).


"That jar over there," He guesstures with his head, nodding over to the still open and out of place jar holding the sparkly healing powder, "holds medicine designed for deep healing. It will help strengthen bone and fill cracks so they become more full and less likely to break."


His own bones are still so easy to break, but that isn't the medicines fault, he can barely see the scars that were once there because of it. No, the brittleness lies in his one HoPe. Sparkly medicine can't fix that.


Felly chuckles, the vibrations echoing in Sans own bones from his close the other is. He shivers as chills run along his body, know that a chuckling Fell, even one behind bars or almost dead, is never a good sign for anyone, least of all a small monster such as him.


"If that's the case, then it won't hurt for you to drink this cup and simply make me another."


Sans's mind is racing, but at the same time its stuck looping those words over and over again. That was the only bluff he had and Felly called him out on it, easily pointing out the one thing he was hoping he wouldn't see, or would have the decency to over look like most monsters. Who was he kidding? Fells aren't most monsters, they don't have decency for themselves, least of all others. Sans should know, he's been around them while trying to make the place better. They're never polite to him, they never touch him because of the guards, but they're never polite.


All Sans can do know is stall, for what, he doesn't know, but he does know that he cannot drink that drugged kool aid. He opens his mouth and tries one more time.




Barely getting out that one syllable, Sans suddenly finds his head slammed on the counter beside the drink. He gets an instant headache. His body jerks for a moment, a whimper just making it past his throat. Felly had moved quickly, his left hand now circled around Sans neck, holding him down as the rougher skeleton looms over him.


"Maybe I didn't make myself clear." He speaks slow and precise, enunciating each word carefully like Sans is stupid, which he probably is. "You drink what you made, or I will force you to drink it and then I'll break the cup against your skull and grind the glass into your joints till you're either begging for my mercy or you're dead. Have I made myself clear?"


Breathing heavily, Sans gives a quick nod of his head. He winces as Felly pushes down on him more. His body twitched again, knees almost giving out and forcing him to reposition his feet, planting them more firmly on the ground. His hands temporarily scramble across the counter, finally holding onto the edge.


"I want," Felly begins, whispering to Sans as he leans down, "to hear your confirmation that you understand my orders. Or do I need to dumb things down for you? Because I can do that, maybe I'll even give you an example."


Felly holds his free hand in front of Sans's face, his claws heading toward the eye sockets in an extremely menacing way. Sans didn't know what Felly plans on doing to his sockets, but it's nothing good if the strong intent pouring off the others skeletons magic was anything to go by.


"I understand!" Sans says, almost yelling as he tries to move away from Felly's hand but going nowhere. "I understand. I get it. You're speaking crystal clear. I'll drink it."


"Good boy. Was that so hard?"


Felly releases his grip on Sans, boxing him in immediately after and watching. Sans slowly rises, not liking the feeling of being imprisoned that's rolling around in his chest. Dread wells up in his soul as a shaking hand grabs the cup. Even if he takes one sip (somehow he doubts Felly will let him get away with that), the pills will still kick in enough to make him extremely drowsy and he'll be fighting the urge to fall into a light nap. He's sure that when the fell realises that he did in fact drug the drink Sans won't be safe from his rage, not that Sans thought he was safe from any sort of rage right now but Felly does seem to be in a surprisingly calm mood.


Taking a calming breath, Sans picks up the cup and puts it to his lips. Felly moves behind him, causing the shorter skeleton to stiffen in fear. One clawed hand is placed back on the back of Sans's neck and another gingerly tips the cup, forcing Sans to drink all of it. This was going to end in disaster with how many sleeping pills Sans put in, thank the stars monsters couldn't overdose on medicine, though maybe that would be preferable to a fell… Hell, who is he trying to kid? Of course dying painlessly in his sleep would be better and more preferred than whatever a fell would do. There wasn't any doubt to that.


Finally finished with the cup, Felly was nice enough to put it down for Sans, who was standing there barely breathing and unable to see anything because his lights were out from sheer terror. He was pulled back into Felly's chest, being brought into a false hug that trapped him and had tears finally falling down Sans face. Sans was more focused on the claws gripping him tight. This was it, he was going to die. Papyrus will walk through that door, coming home happy and full of new cooking knowledge that he'll be wanting to put into practice, and he'll see Sans's pile of dust. The one thing Sans didn't want to happen is happening.


"So," Felly rumbles out, "What did you spike the cup with?"


It takes a few tries for Sans to make any sounds, his magic rolling about and making it hard to speak. Felly remains patient, rocking the two side-to-side in mock comfort that doesn't mask the hurtful intent he can feel on the other, only serving to make Sans break down further. Sans always noticed how Fells were surrounded by the intent to hurt as a warning, most of them weren't even aware that they were doing it, but he's never been this close before, never this intimate. The only person Sans really ever touches is his brother. With a shaky voice, Sans answers.


"Sleeping pills."


"Sleeping pills, huh? Well that ain't so bad, now is it? If I were you, I would have slipped some nightshade or arsenic into my guest's drink. Guess it's a good thing you didn't do that."


Releasing Sans for a second, Felly turns him around and pushes him toward the living room. Sans doesn't resist, already feeling the effects start to pull him under. He would rather have his skull smack against the soft carpet of his living room than the ceramic of his kitchen tiles, though he wasn't expecting that much kindness from a fell he tried to drug. They make it all the way to the couch and Sans is pushed down in a sitting position. Felly stands over him, watching as he's slowly pulled under into a deep sleep. Maybe he'll be merciful and kill him in his sleep.          


The last thought that goes through Sans's mind before the darkness drags him down is 'I'm so sorry, Paps.'

Chapter Text

Red traces his claws along the lights cheek bones. His own bones were slightly grey compared to the pureness of the other skeletons' body. He can see the blue that lightly flushes his double's joints, much different than the harsh glare of his own red magic. It seemed so innocent in its coloring and intensity (or lack thereof), so much different from the red of rage and war. He doesn't know what he's doing right now. He doesn't understand this urge he has to not hurt the little skeleton. For some reason, he wanted to keep that peaceful look on his face just as badly as he wants to cause all his terror. His L.O.V.E. was battling with something, and Red didn't know what it was.


Stepping away from his double (Red has really got to find out his name…), he grabs the remote and looks at it for a few moments, taking time to read all the labels. This thing has a lot of useless looking buttons on it, you would think they would try to make things less confusing as time and technology goes by, not more. He quickly finds the button he wants and turns up the volume. Little Blue over there was too out of it to wake up from some noise and hopefully the neighbors can't hear anything Red gets up to with Bill Nye still playing.


Going to the kitchen, Red opens all the cabinet doors and rummages through them. He finds pots and pan and some other shit Boss would be delighted to have that he isn't bothering to put a name too right now. He does, however, shove some things in his inventory. Could you blame a guy? It was going to be Boss's birthday and giftmas soon, not many people practised the holiday in Red's part of town but the skeletal brothers were not like the many. Besides, Boss has to put up with Red's shit basically 24/7, he deserves a little extra. Plus he needs something to help him cool down when Red gets back because Boss will not be happy that his older brother disappeared for however long Red has been gone. Another thing he needs to find out.


The fridge had bottles of ketchup (how disgusting, mustard is obviously superior), a bag of chisps and some leftover spaghetti in a medium container. Obviously the guy doesn't have much to eat, which sucks because Red is finally noticing just how starving he really is. Healing takes a lot out of a person, and with him having been down for what must have been a few days, he hasn't eaten in a while. Not to mention those bastards interrupted his lunch and he had to leave before he could get breakfast.


Suddenly feeling a little light headed, Red leans against the door. How the fuck does this bastard not have food? Seriously, they have less food than his house during a shortage. Swiping the leftovers and the bag of chisps, Red tosses the spaghetti into the microwave and quickly devours the chisps. That should keep him from passing out long enough for the spaghetti to heat up enough to eat. Taking a bottle of ketchup out of the fridge, Red reads the label.


Ketchup (obviously).

From Grillby's (they got one too?)

Alcoholic (huh, nice)

30 proof (not bad, not bad)

100 percent magic (lucky)


Popping the lid off the bottle, Red takes a sip. He looks at it again, studying it as he tries to decide whether it would be a good idea to suffer through the taste for some alcohol to numb the pain. Beep Beep Beep, goes the microwave, interrupting his train of thought. Giving himself a shrug, he opens up the microwave and pulls out the container. Looking back at the bottle, Red reasons that spaghetti already has ketchup in it, just, chunky. He upends the bottle itno the container, ruffles through drawers for a fork and uses that to scramble the spaghetti around, mixing it up into a sorta soupy substance. Boss would probably have a stroke if he ever saw this shit but Red didn't care right now, he was in too much pain from injuries that were almost healed and the hunger gnawing at his bones to care about stuff like that. What Boss doesn't know can't hurt him, not when it comes to this anyway.


Not even bothering to go and sit, Red scarfs down the spiked spaghetti. He didn't even taste it as he just shoved it in his mouth and swallowed. Soon he was licking the container clean, leaving streaks of his red magic behind on the container, not that you could tell from the stains of ketchup and spaghetti sauce. With a sigh of content, Red tosses the used dishes in the sink. 


Looking once more through the kitchen and finding nothing exciting (kool aid packets, what the the fuck are those?), Red moves on to the living room. The first thing that catches his eye immediately leaving the kitchen is a little side table between the kitchen entrance way and the front door. On this nice looking dark oak table sits a book next to a rock. The rock sat on a plate and had sprinkles scattered about, at a quick glance, Red counts 17 birthday sprinkles. He's quick to move on from the inanimate rock to the joke book sitting there.


'101 Jokes you should know'. Giving a chuckle at imagining all the great jokes in this thing, Red opens it up. A slight shift in magic has him tensing before he realises he's now looking at the cover for quantum physics, sporting the title; '101 Quantum Physics facts you should know'. Looking at the other cover in his claws Red gives a huff of a laugh. No fucking way did this guy make this  book. It's so seamless too. He keeps turning the covers for a few minutes, disbelief and amusement coursing through him. When he finally shuts the book, he could tell quite some time has passed. Backing up, he catches the rock in his peripherals, something was up with it… after a few seconds of studying it, Red notes that it now has 16 birthday sprinkles around it.


"Okay, then." He says, clapping his hands and turning on his heel to leave. He did not want to be around a rock he couldn't tell was sentient or not. Taking one step, he quickly turns around and snatches the book off the table, shoving it in his inventory. He needed to find pants or something soon since his jackets inventory is getting full.


He does a quick rummage of the couch, looking under it and finding a few stray mothballs. He lifts the cushions, scooting Little Blue down to the other side so he can check under the last one. He finds nothing else there. The TV was, well, a TV, and its stand only held a few picture frames of Little Blue and some soft looking Boss, a blueray player, and a couple of gaming consoles with a shelf dedicated to movies and games. He snags a few of the interesting playstation games for his own at home, and with that, his inventory is full. He might be able to fit a pebble. With that done, the only thing left down here is the laundry room.


Opening the laundry room door, Red quickly spots a pair of shorts. Checking the pockets, he notes that the space in them wasn't that impressive. This guy has a quantum physics joke book, but not a good sized inventory. The priorities of the fucking blessed. Makes him sick how they never think about the shit that they should.


Jerking the shorts up, Red storms out of the laundry room and glares at Little Blue. Lucky little ass gets to live all cousy in his fucking two story house with his unboarded windows and fancy tech. It pisses him off how safe these guys get to feel, how protected they are in day to day life. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. Where was his safety? Where was his brothers protection? Why did the Fells end up disgraced and spit upon for something they couldn't control? For something the lights made them into? They were the fucking saviours of the monster race and they were pushed aside, swept up into the ghettos and woods and left to fucking rot because they were 'volatile', 'unstable', 'violent'.


Grabbing the front of the lights hoodie, Red pulls him up to his height, shaking him and demanding an answer.


"It's not fucking fair!" He yells, "Why are you so special? What fucking makes it okay for you to exhist but not me? Huh?!? Is it the fucking scars? I can give you some fucking scars, Bitch!"


Red pushes the light into the back of the couch, holding Little Blue's head still with his right hand and pushing the tips of his claws into the smooth skull. Reds left hand is hooked into a pristine socket and he yanks upward. The bones gives easier than Red was expecting, long, thin cracks tracking up the right side of his doubles face, mirror his own. Red stops, staring at it. It brought him so much satisfaction to hurt a light, to give in to what his L.O.V.E. wants, but at the same time, guilt curled up in his gut. Red backs up a bit, leaving Little Blue to lay there, red blood seeping out of the new wounds. The guy hadn't even flinched.


Taking a breath, Red shoves down the guilt and the itch to do more damage. The happy child laughter coming from the TV was annoying him. He can't be here right now, not near Little Blue. Not near any Light Monster. He heads up the stairs, bypassing the locked room and entering the bathroom. He flips the light switch up and stares into the medicine cabinet as the lights turn on instantly. It was obviously tampered with, bottles knocked over and crooked. The bottle on the counter held the sleeping pills his double downed, the lid still off. Looked like a good chunk of the pills were still in there, probably wasn't used all that often. None of these seem to be used all that often. Red stuffs them all in his pockets, these things will go for a lot on the streets.


The rest of the bathroom was lackluster in product, a few cleaning supplies that Red decides to keep for the Boss but not much else. With that room done, Red enters his prison room. All the clothing on the floor was just that, clothing that had nothing special to them. The closet had even more clothes, these ones clean with only a few jackets hung up. Some boxes at the bottom of the closet, though they looked promising, only held old school works. Papyrus Aster, huh? That must be the other skeleton in the pics, because Little Blue didn't strike him as a Papyrus.


Hey, that's right, didn't light skeletons name themselves after what font they spoke? So Little Blue would be more of a Comic or Sans, there was also a hint of Serif in his words. If that book is his, then he's quite the jokester. Little Comic, huh? It has a nice ring to it. Red leaves the closet chuckling.


He pulls apart the bed, ripping it open to see if maybe there is something worth searching for. Finding nothing, he moves onto the drawers. They were all filled to the brim with some mighty fine socks. This collection definitely rivals Reds own, not that he was jealous or anything. Moving them about in all three drawers, Red finds that the bottom drawer actually has a false bottom. Getting excited, he pulls it up. Inside lays a wrought iron key, a lock pick set, and a blank photo. Not as good of a haul as he was hoping for, but it will do. Though, that picture was really throwing him off. He turns it over and slides it to the back of the drawer, wondering why the fuck it was blank. Who the hell keeps a blank picture? The lock pick set will definitely be useful, and that key could lead to something cool. He's not counting on it though.


Red pulls out the lock pick set almost as soon as he puts it up, looking more closely at it and grinning as an idea pops into his head. He quickly makes his way to the locked door, studying it for a second before choosing the correct picks and opening the door.


With one look at it, Red freezes up. Dear Stars above, what the hell was Boss's room doing in this stupid house? Obviously it wasn't really Boss's room, but it was a damn near copy. Everything was so put up and clean. It had that military feel to it and yet, it still held onto that feeling of home and being lived in. He slowly closes the door and backs away. He takes a moment to just look at the door. Gathering his courage and shaking off this weird feeling, Red opens the door and steps in. He doesn't really touch anything as he looks. There were no false bottoms, hidden doors, or a secret stash in the room, which where all things Red forced Boss to have. Red quickly left the room with relief. That was too fucking weird for him.


To be honest, Red was a little dissatisfied with this search. Nothing useful turned up. How the hell was he supposed to get back to Boss with just this shit? Going back downstairs, Red watches for a few minutes as Little Comic just breaths. It would make sense for the guy to have a phone, right? Yeah, the guy might even be carrying around Red's phone in those pockets of his. Edging closer to the sleeping skeleton, Red turns the lights head to the side, not wanting to see the injuries he caused when he needs to focus on finding a way back to Boss. He can't chance a shortcut since he doesn't know where he is, and unless he wants to be passing out again, he can't even go to far with one. The best course of action would be to contact Boss and travel at night. To contact Boss, he needs a phone.


So, he pats the other skeleton down, pulling a phone out from his jacket pocket. It was an old brick phone with a bone keychain on it and blue bedazzlement. A classic if Red's ever seen one, though a little too blue for his tastes. Switching on the phone, the screen lights up and asks for a passcode. It was a four digit number passcode, which should be easy enough, but Red didn't know much about the guy and his search didn't turn up- wait. Papyrus… could it be a variation of that?


Papy didn't turn up anything but a counter, telling Red he has two turns left before the phone shuts down. Little Comic isn't as dumb as Red thought. He was gonna fuck this up, wasn't he? Taking a moment to arrange the letters in his head a few times and thinks about nicknames that a brother would call the guy (if it doesn't involve the guys name, Red is screwed), he comes up with Rusy and gets another strike. On the last one he can try, he hesitantly puts in Paps. Each press of the button felt like he was either digging his grave to hell or building a stairway to heaven.


Before pressing enter, he sets the phone down and takes a breath. If this was wrong, then Red would have no way to contact Boss and figure out a plan. He would have to walk all the way to his house injured and smelling freshly of Light Monster. No way he could get through the light parts of town in one night on his own so he'll need to either bring the other skeleton along to guide him, or get a map and his barings. If he brings Little Comic, he can't just leave the guy at the edge of the ghettos, the other Fells will rip him apart with pleasure and he gets possessive just thinking about it. Every plan needs Boss to be there. The world doesn't work right without Boss.


He picks up the phone.

Chapter Text

Three days earlier:


Edge leans back in his chair, his hands held above his head as his spine cracks and pops. He grabs all the papers on his desk, moving them to a box labeled 'DONE'. He just finished Undyings week worth of backlog and should have enough time for an hours sleep. He admires his co-captain in her strength and want to do good, but by the stars is she infuriating to deal with. Between her and his brother, Edge feels like he has no time for rest. At least Red did his own fucking paper work, even if it does leave out a detail or two Edge has to work in.


Taking a moment to straighten his desk, Edge stands and walks out his door. He does a quick parameter check, making sure all the windows are locked and not tampered with, and that the door remains sturdy and locked. With the entire floor checked (his brother barely rolled over to look at him before going back to sleep as he lightly rattled the windows in the bedroom to check them) and secured, Edge finally relaxes enough to enter a light sleep. He lays down on his bed, facing the doorway. His eyes are barely closed when a ring enters the air. He's being called.


Looking at the i.d., Edge goes on full alert as he reads Undyings name flashing across his screen. She would only be up this early due to an emergency, and to be calling him means it's a big enough emergency to require both Captains. He answers the phone before the second ring could end.




"Alright, nerd, here's the deal. I need you at home base now! Those damn Bunnies got in and set the place on fire, as much as I love the heat, our documents are burning up -good riddance- and the prisoners are in danger of burning alive. We also have civilians trying to loot the place like the fucking assholes that they are. It is all hands on deck, even that puny brother of yours."


Undying shouts a few things away from the phone, a roar of a raging fire can be heard and then the call ends. Half way through Undying's call, Edge was already getting his things ready to put on, pulling out his armor and walking out to bang on Red's door. Edge quickly goes back to his room and puts on his armor then he heads back to Red's door and opens it none too gently. Red was up, rubbing at his eyes in his shirt, shorts and socks. That cretan slept in his next day clothes, leaving only his jacket and shoes to be put on. However, as much as Edge hated it, doing so did save time for emergencies like these because unless Red was being attacked, he takes forever to get up.


Knowing that they don't have the time for Red to get his ass in gear, Edge storms over and shoves his older brothers shoes on, tying them up so tight that they would be difficult to undo. Red was now waking up quickly, asking questions and pulling his jacket to himself.


"The fuck, Boss? What's got your knickers in a twist?"


Edge hauls Red to his feet, shoving him out of the room and to the front door. He was debating whether he should just carry Red to go faster, but then his brother would refuse to use a shortcut, which is undoubtedly faster than any running speed Edge could get them at.


"The Bunnies have bombed home base, all personnel are required to check in and help out. Even you, Red."


Edge takes but a moment to open the door and shut it behind them, locking it with his magic. Red was tugging on his jacket with a tired, begrudging look on his cracked face. He was also tapping his feet, likely trying to loosen the laces.


"Alright, alright." Red gives, rubbing his eye sockets once more and cracking his neck to help him wake up. "Can we at least stop by Grillby's and grab some grub? We'll be, like, two seconds, Boss."


Edge feels a sneer curle on his face. He hates the trash that flame monster serves, all that grease can't be good for anyone, especially since the majority of it wasn't even magic.


"You know how I feel about that place, brother. Not to mention it's a Bunny hang out and we could get jumped."


"Nah, Boss, Grillster would never allow that, not in his bar. They start shit and he just might take care of this problem for us."


"That doesn't matter, we need to get to home base now. We don't have time to stop and eat."


Red opens his mouth, looking like he wants to argue but he shuts it just as quickly. Grabbing Edge by his arm, he shortcuts them to home base. They were surrounded by chaos not even a second later. Guards were trying to tame the flames and save what little they could from the roaring inferno. Civilians were rushing in from the shadows, running off with anything they could grab. A few of them were caught by some guards but with the fire that had everyone's attention, they were soon sprung free.


Undying herself was barking orders at the monsters, yelling for civilians to clear the area and for the guards to 'Put out this fucking fire already!'. She had a bucket about five times the size of a normal one and was running back and forth from the burning building to a water hole another monster was keeping open. It was tiring work but no one was stopping any time soon.


"Get as many civilians away from the fire as you can and try to see if you can reclaim any stolen goods while you're at it. I want trackers on all of them." Edge shoves Red lightly towards the monsters lurking about and heads over to Undying himself. He was given a bucket as big as hers and quickly put to work. With the entire royal guard throwing buckets of water at the fire, and Red making sure any civilians stay away from their shit, they had the fire put out in an hour.


However, that did not mean their day was done. No, it had only just begun to the exasperation of everyone. The best trackers were put on the scent of the Bunnies responsible and left to track them down with a few enforcers. The likelihood of them being able to actually get to the burrowing animals is slim to none but they had to take every chance they could to bring the Bunnies to justice for their crimes. The guard's strongest monsters were tasked with going through the burned down building, moving anything that was salvageable and checking for survivors. Edge and Undying were among them, being the two strongest monsters in the guard. Undying focused on finding survivors and either sending them to hospitals or giving them mercy kills depending on how bad their injuries were. Edge, being one of the few who cared about paperwork, was to go through everything and see what had been saved and what had to be rewritten. He also had to order the lost papers in most important to last important so they could get the papers they need back quickly rather than spending time writing up a report about coffee theft when they could have been writing up a necessary report about child murder that would get the offender the death sentence. He's just thankful he had been too busy to get this weeks worth of papers done and turned in yesterday, that saves them a bit of time. A smaller group of guards that didn't fit in with the trackers (either because they couldn't track worth shit or weren't fast enough to keep up) or considered strong enough to lift things like desks and shelves from the burnt ashes, one of them was having an asthma fit because of all the ash in the air, got rounded up by Red with instructions to reclaim their stolen goods. The food wasn't to be bothered over (A lot of the guards bitched and moaned over that till Red brought Edge over to scream at them how they had more important things to find than someone's missing sandwich that they didn't even need, all the food that had been taken was luxury food for unnecessary snack times that should be taking away from their lunch break but wasn't, and that can change right the fuck now unless they wanted to get their heads out of each others asses and get to work. Not to mention that they would be getting a refill from the light side of town soon anyways, so it wasn't even a loss for them. The guards didn't argue again for any of the orders Red gave, lest he get Edge back over to do a lot more than yell) and children wouldn't be arrested even if they refused to give up anything they might have stolen for the simple matter that they didn't have any space. The adult were to be put on house arrest till the guard could get holding cells ready. Honestly, by that time their sentence would already be served and most monsters are smart enough to realize that, so Red wasn't all that concerned with this job being too difficult. There was also the point that practically everyone knows Red and, part of the guard or not, were willing to work with him because they knew he was willing to work with them on getting less harsh punishments for the little things. Seriously, no one needed to be put to fucking death because they stole a hotdog.


Barely any of the  furniture was salvageable and the few that were had seriously burn markings. Undying claimed that it just meant they were strong pieces that could withstand the heat and anything they threw at it, and that the scarring gave each surviving piece personality. Edge quietly joked that she should get a pet dresser and Undying turned him down, stating that she 'has enough bullshit to take care of'. Edge simply rolled his eyes and they both continued on with their work.


Turns out paper is flammable, who would have known? Most of the pieces they have in home base was destroyed, leaving behind scraps of themselves that gave no clue to their contents. Edge decided to scrap trying to salvage any and sat down to begin making a list of what papers they were missing and what they need to get done by tonight. One of their smarter guards with extremely good memory (one of the three humans they have hired) sat beside him to point out any that he might miss and to begin one rewriting the important reports that he knows.


About a quarter hour till the usual lunch time, Edge leaves the rest of the list to the human guard (Erick, isn't it?) and starts to write a report to be sent to the mayor of the town and the representative of the Fell side. He spent the next few hours making sure each letter to the two was perfect down to the type of paper they would be sent on, Edge felt the traditional method to be more personal and sincere to the digital ways of the present. Plus, neither the mayor nor the representative were good with electronics.


Having typed, printed, and sent the letters on their merry way, Edge finally checks his phone. Lunch had well passed by now with time edging on to 2 p.m. and his stomach (or lack thereof) was making itself known. It wasn't making any noise because it didn't actually exist, but a pinched feeling in his abdomen was making itself apparent. Heading home, Edge takes out his phone and send his brother a text.


'Check out for a second lunch, I want to know how well you're handling your task.'


He puts his phone back in his pocket, sure that Red will either text back some nonsense or already be there by the time Edge shows up. He doesn't feel a buzz of an incoming text, but that doesn't get him worried. Without a doubt, Red will be tired, he might actually be taking a nap to recharge because stars know the older skeleton doesn't have great stamina for things like work and even Edge is feeling a little tired.


Getting home, he yells up the stairs for Red to drag his ass into the kitchen in time to eat or he'll be literally dragging Red down the stairs himself after the food is cold, and starts to make some lunch lasagna with a side of green beans. In the next 45 minutes, Red still had yet to come down and eat, so Edge set himself a plate and ate his food alone, cleaning the dishes and placing them on a rack to dry when he was done. Checking his phone once more and seeing no new notifications, Edge storms up the stairs and knocks on his brothers door.


"I highly doubt you are out on the job right now because I know you, and if you are then I will be highly impressed and pleased that my hard work is finally starting to rub off on you after all these years, but again, I know you. So, brother dear, you have five seconds to open this door and appease me before I barge in there and drag you out by your collar."


Usually such words would have Red rushing out, eager for anything Edge might have planned, but today, the door remains closed. That doesn't bode well with Edge. As he mentioned earlier, he knows Red better than anyone, probably better than Red knows himself and him not answering Edge's call means something had to have happened. Still, he waits five seconds like he said he would, even if they seem to drag on to five hours.


Slamming the door open, he steps in and see nothing. Everything was left the way it had been in the morning; a couple clothes scattered about the floor that Red was going to clean this weekend, some mustard packets lying on his desk with empty ones filling up his trash can, a pile of dust bunnies and cobwebs in a corner where his latest little tornado gave out, and, most importantly, no Red passed out in his unmade bed.


It didn't seem Red was home.


Before Edge could freakout, he checks the closet (finding no Red), Edge's own room (still no Red), the laundry room downstairs (wishful thinking that he would be down here), and the basement (still as empty and blood stained as it was just this morning, those tools definitely need a cleaning before they have another 'guest' over). Having checked the entire house once more, Edge calls one of the guards that went with Red to reclaim their stolen goods.


His name is Adam and he's one of the very few people Red would consider a friend (not that he couldn't kill them if he needed to). Not only was this guard the oldest member to join, he was also in the guard the longest, having joined 37 years ago as the fourth human to be enlisted in history. The man would already be captain if he didn't turn down the offer each time it was brought up, he likes being a grunt, apparently.


"Sir?" Adam answers.


"Hello, Adam, I'm looking for Red and he's not home."


"Oh, uh, he isn't? I kinda assumed he was since he hadn't come back from lunch. He said he was going to Grillby's and would be a while. I thought he meant that he would crash back at his place for a bit before getting back to the job."


Edge sighs in frustration, of coarse Red would go to Grillbys when they just got hit by the Bunnies. He isn't as invincible as he seems to think he is. "Thank you, Adam. You best get back to work."


"Hey, Sir? Is Red okay? He's not in trouble or anything, is he?" Adam sounds worried, keeping his voice down so know one hears him. He can't have people thinking he's going soft.


"I'll keep you posted."

Chapter Text

The walk to Grillby's had people around Edge cowering. No one dared approach him even though he was distracted with thoughts of whether Red is alright, and if he is at Grillby's, how long Edge will lock him in the basement.


Grillby's was easy enough to find, being the most put together building on the entire block. Nobody dared to make a mess of Grillster's bar, knowing that he will take action and put their dust in his food. Edge despised the grease joint, but he could admit that Grillster at least kept the place clean and organized… and he makes amazing milkshakes.


Very rarely did Edge ever cross the doors into Grillby's, so he got a lot of staring as he walked by. The patrons of Grillster's were at least wise enough to not start talking till Edge left the restaurant. Those of the Bunnie clan were smirking at him, he almost stomped over there just to rip their ears off. They have caused the guard so much grief just today that it was a miracle this building hadn't been stormed (or it was because even the guard wouldn't be able to do shit to this place with Grillster standing guard, half their food supplies came from here after all).


Looking around, Edge doesn't spot Red at his usual place on a bar stool. As hated as this place is for Edge, he still needs to find his brother, the world doesn't work right without Red's bitching and moaning. So he heads up to the bar and waits patiently for Grillster to come over. The tall skeleton doesn't have to wait long for the purple flame to walk over and ask what he could get for Edge.


"When was the last time you saw my brother?" Edge asks, not even bothering to decline the offer of food. He had better things to do than exchange pleasantries. Thankfully, Grillster understands and rarely bothers with pleasantries himself. 


Edge is informed through fire crackles and pops that Red hadn't been here all day. Only ones here were the Bunnies and some neutral monsters (humans rarely came in, knowing that monsters need at least one safe haven from everything). Edge thanked Grillster for the info and headed out. Before he could get the door open, a voice finally piped up.


"Missing something, Skeleton?" A smug looking bunny asked him. The air grew still as Edge takes his hand off the door knob.


"Maybe," The same bunny continues, "You shouldn't leave valuables alone. Who knows what could happen when they roam?"


The group around her giggles.


They did something to his brother. They will pay.


"I have a feeling," Edge begins calmly, walking his way over to the still laughing group. They think just because he's in Grillster's precious bar that he won't attack, that they're safe. They forget two things; Grillster has a soft spot for Red so Edge could probably get away with minimum damage so long as he payed for the expenses and it was to help Red, and also that Edge doesn't care about any rules now that his brother is officially missing. "that you know where my brother is."


"Oh, you would be wrong. I don't know where that little bitch is because he runs from his beatings." More giggling, "but I do know he's dead after what we did to him."


There were no more monsters left in the bar except for Edge, the Bunnies, and Grillster. Everyone else had left the moment Edge was no longer blocking the door. Grillster was standing a few feet away, watching and listening. Edge knew the flame would let him bash a chair or two into a Bunnies' back after their remarks about Red. They were still laughing, thinking they were safe. The morons.


The first Bunnie to die was simply the closest. Edge grabbed them by their ears, yanking to the sides till he ripped both of them off. Each ear turning to dust in his hands as the monster screeched in pain. He then grabbed the back of their head and slammed it so hard into the table that it crushed in his claws. It was a quick death.


Edge had enough time to grab the next Bunnie by his arm, shattering it with a quick twist. That Bunnies throat was slashed. By now, the remaining few were realizing that they weren't safe and they should move. Their progress was hindered by not only bones encircling them in, but fire as well. Seems Grillster was done hosting the problematic gang in his bar.


The next Bunnie to die was a girl who seemed to have just gotten out of stripes, Edge was going to be feeling guilty about that one. She was killed quickly, a sharp bone construct thrusted directly into her soul. Three down, two to go.


The older Bunnie guy (probably only 29, so not that old) decided to attack Edge, jumping at him with a vigorous attack pattern. Most bullets were dodged, though some of them hit. Brazened by Edge being hittable and therefore killable, the girl Bunnie to have been running her mouth jumped into the fight as well. Edge was hardly in over his head, not just everyone becomes a captain of the guard at the age 22, but with both of them working together and fighting back, it was a little difficult to kill them. The two got off plenty of good hits, cracking a rib and leaving some cuts, but Edge soon had them pierced with bones. Their deaths wasn't quick,they were left gasping for air as blood poured from their mouth and wounds. It takes a good minute before one, then the other, collapse into their own piles of dust.


The flames recede, not even leaving behind a scorch mark on the floor. Edge allowed the magic in his attacks to disperse, his bone constructs shattering into fragments before disappearing completely. A quick look around him shows that, other than a dent in the table and a few scratches on the floor (not that those were noticeable) nothing was really damaged in the fight.


Giving a nod to Grillster and leaving 50g on the table for  the flames troubles in having to clean up all the dust, Edge leaves the restaurant. There was no one outside. All the buildings seemed to be on lock down, the people inside probably cowering in their homes for safety. It wasn't Edge's problem.


His brother was dead.


Correction, a Bunnie claimed his brother was dead. A Bunnies word could not be trusted. This Bunnie also said that Red ran away. His brother might only have 6 hP, but outside a proper battle, damaging his hP was nigh impossible. They would need to hit his soul, and that would result in an instant death so he couldn't get away. It doesn't mean Red couldn't die from wounds if they were left untreated, it just meant that he was more resilient than people gave him credit for.


His brother was alive, and Edge wasn't going to stop looking for him till he was found.




Dawn of the third day has Edge back at Grillster's bar, sitting next to Red's spot and eating a salad (the only thing he'll ever take from here). He wouldn't be here if he could help it, but Undying dragged him off the streets at 4 in the night and over to Grillby's before it was even open (she had pounded on the door relentlessly until the fire elemental opened up, they almost got scorched because of the racket she was making at such an ungodly hour). She was still looming over his shoulders and making sure he ate all of the salad that had been laid out before him.


At first he protested, claiming that he had work to do and that Red was out there and needed him. Undying counter argued that Edge couldn't help Red if he died of starvation or got killed because he was distracted from lack of food and lack of rest. It was a screaming match for a good hour or so, only stopped when Grillster laid out a buffet of salads and order the two captains to sit down and eat. They were scaring away his customers. Neither of them pointed out that the bar didn't even open till nine.


So that left both Captains silently eating (Undying more picking at the lone carrot she picked up a while ago) with the flame monster polishing his glass. Three days and Edge still has yet to find evidence that Red is alive. He wouldn't give up though, not for the rest of his life. His brother was out there, and Edge will find him, come Hell or high water. Nothing would stand between Edge and Red.


However, he couldn't keep going like this. Undying was right, he was going to collapse sooner or later (most likely sooner since eating is reminding his body of all the abuse it's been suffering through these last couple of days). It seems that he would have to simply have faith in the guard to keep looking while Edge takes a break. He doesn't want to take a break, but Undying was right, he needed rest.


So that's why he finds himself walking home with Undying's strict orders to 'Go get some fucking sleep before I knock you out myself' being the last thing he hears from the bar. She was staying to enjoy a full bottle of liquor. Edge can't believe that he's leaving the fate of his brother in a drunks hands, but Undying will do everything she can (even if she doesn't like Red all that much), because they're friends. Well, as close to friends as one can get in an environment like this. It would hurt, no doubt, but Edge could definitely cut her lose if it ever came down to it. The one thing he cannot cut lose, not immediately, is his brother. Red has taken care of Edge his entire life, taking beatings for him and doing unimaginable things (from plain theft to back alley dealings that would have even the toughest of stomachs curling in on itself) just to get baby Edge a meal. There was nothing Red wouldn't do for Edge, as has been proven time and time again, the least Edge could do is not give his brother up for lost. Not yet, anyways.


Thankfully, the walk home was uneventful because Edge was so lost in his thoughts about his brother that a LumberJack could have been chopping a forest down and he wouldn't have noticed. No small part to the simple fact that there is no forest for a good half mile, and even that wouldn't be enticing to any LumberJack do to its cursed nature of disappearances and deaths. They have lost many a guard, citizen and criminal in those mountain woods.


Unlocking his door with a simply, and frankly lazy, twist of the wrist, Edge enters his home- no, his house, because it isn't a home without Red -for the first time in three days. Three long, stressful days. He has half a mind to not even check the locks but gets himself to do so anyways, Red stays lost forever with Edge dead.


Rattling each window and doubly checking every lock in the entire house, even doing a quick search of the basement, Edge concluded that the house was secure. With that comfort, he heads for bed. Changing out of his work clothes and properly putting his armor up, Edge stands staring at his bed for a good couple of minutes. Part of him (that childish part that refuses to die no matter what actions Edge witnesses or commits) hopes that when he wakes up, Red will be back and okay. A larger part (the hardened warrior part) knows that this will not be the case, that he is setting himself up for failure.


Usually when these self doubting thoughts occur and his childish side refuses to pipe down, Edge would go to Red and simply sit next to him. Red, the sweetheart of a bastard that he is, would pick up a random book (Lost Bunny finds his way home) and read out loud till Edge exclaimed how that book was for babies. It never failed to make him feel better, especially how Red would smile and indulge him 'Of course yer not a baby, Boss. Not with that dick' and Edge would glare and growl and storm out of the room into his own. Red would come knocking a few minutes later and they would spend the night relearning all their favorite things about each other.


Red isn't here to read Edge stories and be fucked through a mattress, though. And maybe, just maybe, no matter what Edge does, Red might never be here again to tell his stupid jokes and look at Edge with hearts in his sockets. Hearts that showed Edge how much he means to Red. Hearts that were- are -Edges favorite things about Red, even if he never tells them. Hearts he wished they didn't have to hide.


He finds himself in his brother's… his lover's… room, pressing his face down in Red's pillow and holding the blanket tightly to his chest.


For the first time in a long time, he also finds himself crying.


Those tears follow him into his dreams.