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Papyrus shuddered as harsh rain beat against the windows. He was cocooned in all the blankets on Mettaton’s bed, trying to shield himself from the howling midnight thunderstorm outside. He flinched at every flash of lightning and curled up more tightly at every crack of thunder.
Since moving to the surface, Papyrus had figured out one of his worst fears. He had never experienced a weather system so loud and overwhelmingly large in the Underground, and every sound was murder on his overly-sensitive hearing. Normally he would retreat to the basement of his house and put on his headphones until it was over, but Mettaton’s penthouse didn’t have a basement, and Papyrus hadn’t brought his headphones.
Mettaton was asleep next to him. Papyrus wanted so badly to wake him for comfort, but he didn’t want to disturb his boyfriend so late at night.
That ended up not mattering, however, since the next crash of thunder shook the entire apartment complex, scaring the robot right out of sleep mode.
He blinked, staring around confusedly until he saw Papyrus sobbing with anxiety. “Papy, dearest, what’s wrong? Is it the storm? Why didn’t you wake me up?” he demanded alarmedly, sitting up and taking the skeleton’s face in his hands.
Papyrus wiped his eyes fruitlessly. “I-I’m sorry, Metta, I just—it’s all too much and I didn’t want to bother you when you had a long day at work today and needed rest—”
“Oh, darling, please, it isn’t a bother at all to help you.” Mettaton kissed his forehead. “I’ll fix this for you somehow, baby. Hold on.”
Mettaton turned on the bedside table lamp and looked around hurriedly for a solution to the problem. He spotted his walk-in closet door. What was it Alphys had once said about fabrics and clothes? That they could help deaden noise, that was it! “Come here, honey,” he whispered soothingly as he pulled Papyrus out of the blankets. He kept his arms around his boyfriend as he led him into the closet and sat him in the corner amongst his clothing. “Stay here a minute.”
Papyrus was perplexed and frightened, but he listened. He watched as Mettaton dragged in the pillows and sheets from their bed and made some sort of nest out of them on the floor. Then the robot brought in his computer and turned on some gentle jazz music.
Papyrus crawled into the blanket nest as Mettaton shut the door tight and dimmed the lights so the room was softly illuminated.
“How is this, Papy?” Mettaton asked as he dropped down next to him.
“S’lovely,” Papyrus murmured faintly, his fear already fading away. The clothes in the closet really did help to cushion the sounds outside, and he could no longer see the cruel bolts of lightning that forewarned of torture to his eardrums.
“Would you like to watch something, or talk, or just sleep?”
“Just—just sleep, I think.”
Mettaton scooted under the blankets and pulled Papyrus flush against him, the skeleton’s head resting on his chest. Papyrus focused on the gentle hum and soothing vibration of the robot’s metal body until he could hear nor feel anything else.
“Thank you for everything, Mettaton,” he whispered.
Mettaton kissed his skull once more. “Anything for you, dearest. I’m always here for you.”