for @insomniaticfrenchtoast who wanted something spoopy
Papyrus is as popular as any sentient skeleton could be at a grade-school Halloween party. He’s truly in his element as the center of attention, and the kids clustered around him gaze up at him with awed and adoring eyes.
Most of the people here are people you know – your classmates and their parents, teachers and staff – and that makes it easier to breathe in this crowded cafeteria.
To one side of Papyrus’ loud gaggle is Sans, and you make a beeline for him.
“hey, kiddo,” he says by way of greeting, then tugs playfully at the felt stem on the hat of your costume. “why didn’t the jack o’ lantern cross the road?” You tilt your head, and his glowing penlight eyes gleam. “they didn’t have the guts.”
You giggle silently and make sure he’s watching (he always is) when you sign, ’Orange you out of pumpkin jokes yet?’
He looks delighted. “me? out of jokes? you must be out of your gourd.”
Your brothers still aren’t a hundred percent on the hows and whys of this holiday – admittedly, it’s fair to say that the whole thing might seem a little strange from an objective standpoint – but they’re happy to indulge you anyway. The three of you spent hours in a nearby Party City, laughing at and delighting in the costumes and toys and seasonal candies, and Papyrus ended up bodily carrying Sans away from the assortment of novelty prank kits he found. If you had a voice, you think it’d be hoarse with laughter.
But Sans is the most agreeable person you’ve ever met, even at his most difficult. He’s content to be buoyed along by his brother’s enthusiasm and his friends’ shenanigans, and that makes it hard sometimes for you to figure out if he’s genuinely having a good time.
‘You’re having fun, right?’ you ask him earnestly. He huffs a laugh and drapes an arm around your shoulders. He’s impossibly soft for a skeleton, and his magic curls comfortably around your heart like a sated cat.
“there’s nowhere else i’d rather be, punkin,” he tells you without a hint of irony. It seems like an odd sentiment, since he’s sitting amidst bright balloons and streamers and skull-shaped confetti, cheesy decorations geared more towards eight-year-olds than however-many-year-old monster scientists – but since his brother is here, along with Toriel and Alphys and Undyne and you, you actually believe him.
“heh.” He pokes your cheek fondly. “you jack o’ lanterns are all the same. your smiles really light up the room.”