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Can't Save Face

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The lab doors slide open to the sound of an argument - not a bitter conflict, but what sounds like familiar bickering. You follow the voices up ‘stairs’ to find Mettaton EX posing on Alphys’ worktable. He glances up when you step off the conveyor belt.

“Darling! Can you believe that Alphys here cares more about function than form!?”

Alphys herself turns and adds wryly, “C-Can you believe he cares more about having a face than h-having limbs?”

You pause for effect before answering, “The only thing I can’t believe is that either of you are surprised.” That wins a few smiles, which you return. “What’s up?

Alphys rolls her eyes at the robot. ”Like I s-said, Mettaton apparently cares more about looks than mobility.” She twists the tool she has under his shoulderpad, as if to emphasize her point. “Even when I’m trying to make sure these arms don’t fall off.”

Mettaton pouts and tosses his head. “Alphys, sweetie, I’ve spent decades with no limbs. I can stand it a little longer-” he pointedly ignores your snickering “-but what I can’t stand is looking like this!

He sweeps back his hair to reveal the til-then-unseen right half of his face which, true to his complaints, completely lacks a cover. There’s a jarring lack of transition between the synthetic expression on one side and rotors and mechanical guts on the other - even the right eye looks different, lashless and lidded only with a metal plate.

It’s a sight to inspire pity or horror, making you especially uncomfortable realizing that you are instead quite hot under the collar.

Alphys, still buried in her work, elaborates. “I t-told you this mode was ex-experimental, remember? I salvaged the f-face from his old NEO mode b-but it wasn’t in g-great shape to begin with.”

You frown and cross your arms. “Not to argue with your priorities, but how is it easier to make arms and legs than a face? Especially considering the whining it’d save.”

“I do not ‘whine’!” Mettaton whines. The plates and motors of his revealed half work smoothly as he retorts, counterpart to the covered side. You’re snapped out of your fascinated trance by Alphys’ response.

“*Snort* Heh heh… W-Well, honestly I s-salvaged these from the NEO mode too, s-so it’s just a s-simple attachment job. B-Besides, his face is s-so expressive that it’s gonna take more work than some of this - but, yes , I’ll get to work on it right after,” she adds, seeing his pout. Kind of a shame, really.


The lab is silent for a few seconds before Alphys turns to give you a weird look. “Y-You realize you s-said that out loud, right?”


Fuck .


Your SOUL attempts to abscond straight the fuck out the door, but a pair of arms encircle your shoulders before you can make it. You don’t dare turn around as a soft voice coos in your ear, “And just what does that mean, darling?”


Your blood pressure skyrockets and sweat pours down your face. Like you could even talk right now if you wanted to.

You half-expect him to let go after a few moments of silence, but he instead he tightens the grip and drawls “Daaarling...” softly in your ear. You’re really glad you can’t see Alphys’ - or his - expression right now.

“I have no explanation that doesn’t make me sound like a creep,” you mutter. “No, scratch that -  I have no explanation, period.”

He turns you around and, when you won’t meet his eyes, cups your chin and gently but firmly forces your head up. Your face is on fire. Your whole body is on fire.

“You can’t possibly mean to say that you’d rather smooch this than this ,” his fingers flick from one half of his face to the other. His eyes bore into you, but all of you attention is on the smooth movements of his jaw. A stray spark jumps down an exposed wire and you lick your lips unthinkingly.

“You really would,” he murmurs disbelievingly. You try to shrug it off.

“What can I say? It’s not just your personality that’s electrifying.”

He groans at the terrible pun, arms loosening enough for you to take a step back. “You’ve been spending too long around that skeleton.”

“Are you really that shocked?”

“S-Speaking of shocked,” you’re gratified that Mettaton also jumps at the sounds of Alphys’ voice, “I hhh-hate to interrupt, but you could l-literally get electrocuted if you go any f-further here.”

“So fix it. Please,” Mettaton amends when she glares at him, and the part of your brain that was screeching WORTH IT quiets enough for you to realize what he means.

Alphys jabs a finger into his side, making him shiver as a panel pops out and slides away. His arms are limp enough that you can get out of her way, watching with possibly too much fascination as she fiddles with a few wires. “There, that should-” she looks up at you, and some part of your internal monologue must have shown through on your face, because she asks, “Should I t-turn this off or just d-down ?”

“Down,” you squeak in the tiniest voice possible. She nods and flicks something, then closes the panel.

“Okay! I’ll, uh, get out of y-your way.”

The doctor has barely moved a yard before Mettaton’s arms wrap around you again, yanking you close. You expect him to slam his mouth against yours, but he only rests his forehead to yours instead.

“To think,” he whispers, sounding breathless despite being both a robot and a ghost, “All that time fighting and I could have ended it with just a kiss. Well, not just a kiss, the greatest, most spark-inducing kiss in the history of monsterkind. Think of the ratings!”

You want to laugh but can barely draw in breath, eyes locked on his mouth. A gray tongue flicks over his lips, which curl into an even more devious smile. Your heart’s pounding so hard, you’re sure he can feel it pulse against his ‘skin’.

And then he finally kisses you.

Voltage plays over your lips, stinging your skin; you shudder and cling to him. The smooth softness of his synthetic mouth clash with the hard edges of his unfinished face. It feels incredible. Your mouth is slack and he wastes no time sticking his tongue into it. All you can taste is silicon and ozone, which really shouldn’t qualify as sensual , yet here you are.

Your mouth is almost numb when he pulls away, tongue still poking out past his lips. Then he dives forward, kissing your neck, your jaw, making his way down your body. The smooth-sharp-wet-electric feeling is so impossibly strange. You’re more aroused than you’ve ever been in your life.

You feel his fingers hook into your waistband, pulling your pants down effortlessly. You’re flopped over something - the worktable, the couch, you don’t know - and it’s a good thing, because your bones turn to water when he stops going down you so he can go down on you.

You have no fucking clue how his mouth is wet but it is, carrying sparks down your skin. All you can do is grip his shoulderpads and groan at the feeling of his tongue, of the hard edges of his right half just barely touching you. Static surges into your crotch, lighting up all your nerves, and you white out.

You’re still shuddering slightly when your vision returns. Mettaton is wiping his mouth and looking far too pleased with himself.