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“Does it hurt?”
Papyrus’s brow bone sunk to a furrow as he thought about the question. It was a particularly hard thing to answer, all things considered. And something he should have expected upon revealing to his good friend- and definitely not crush- what lay under his gloves.
Mettaton had taken it rather well, he thought. Just a concerned look, a small pout formed across his perfect lips, and that question. Most didn’t have such a tame reaction, which was one of the reasons Papyrus kept his hands strictly covered at all times. They were an enigma, something to be unsettled at.
His hands were thin and long, elegantly built. Sans used to say that they were built to play the piano, though he preferred to use them to rewire and re-panel. All and all, the appendages should have been lovely, but certainly nothing to gawk at.
But then there were the holes.
They were awful, ugly things carved into the center of his palms. Each was perfectly circular, the insides charred a thick, choking black. Small cracks had accumulated along them over the years, the result of wear and tear.
Papyrus hated them. They were the kind of thing that scratched at the back of one’s mind, tearing loose dreadful not-memories that didn’t exist but also did. Faint feelings and flashes of a life he was certain he never lived, and of a name he never bore. It was rather untasteful, and something he did not like to experience.
So the gloves stayed on.
“Papyrus?”
The question tore the skeleton away from his thoughts and back up to his friend’s face, still morphed into concern. Right! It was rude not to answer people when they ask you a question….
“Well…. no.” Papyrus finally decided on, following another brief moment of silence. “…..I can’t really feel anything in them.”
Mettaton’s eyes widened for a split second, before his face settled back into a sympathetic grimace. It made Papyrus’s soul twist a little. He shouldn’t be worrying the man so much- it was awfully rude-
“So this-“ The robot again intruded Papyrus’s thoughts with a rumbled out inquiry. He had taken one of the skeleton’s hands in his own. “-You can’t feel this?”
“It’s complicated….” Papyrus responded, because it was. Looking upon his own hands held gently and carefully within Mettaton’s, it was like looking at a picture. He was certain the robot’s gloves were silky and soft, that his grip was strong but so gentle, that he was so gingerly careful and delicate. But the actual feeling of such things was simply lost on him.
“I remember what having my hand held feels like.” He continued. It seemed obvious, now that he had said it. But there was going back now. “Seeing you hold it like that- it brings back small twinges. So I??? Almost trick myself into feeling it???”
“I’m sorry- that makes no sense-“ Papyrus concluded, a small laugh slipping between his teeth, and a pink hue coloring his face.
Mettaton interrupted yet again, this time with a gentle hand upon the skeleton’s cheekbone. Now that, THAT Papyrus could certainly feel, and it was more amazing than anything he could have daydreamed about. He found himself leaning into the touch, absorbing every second of glorious contact. God, if only he could do THAT every day-
But that was just wishful thinking.
“It makes perfect sense, Darling.” Mettaton responded gently, a smile gliding across his beautiful, perfect, so very kissable lips. Before Papyrus could say another word, the hand against his cheek had disappeared and glided back down to his hand. He could still feel the warmth of it one his face, and found himself wishing it would hold him again.
“From now on, I’ll let you know when I touch your hand, so you can look at it.” Mettaton promised, a light blue glowing across his own checks. “Is that okay?”
Papyrus found a grin slipping across his own teeth, soul doing a little happy dance at the prospect of Mettaton’s gentle touch, even if it was somewhere he couldn’t truly feel it.
“Of course.”