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Something bright was shining on Mettaton’s face. Barely awake and disgruntled by whatever it was, the robot gave a small groan, turned his face into his pillow, and pulled the covers more tightly around his shoulders.
That position wasn’t the most comfortable, though, so he turned back to the light and squinted. The sun was shining through a small space between the curtains, a line of brightness cutting direct across his eyes. Mettaton considered getting up to more thoroughly close the curtains, but he was so nice and toasty in this spot that he decided against it.
After a few more seconds, he realized he didn’t recognize these curtains.
He looked at the bedside table. That clock wasn’t familiar, either. Nor was the lamp. The clock looked like some kind of generic hotel clock, but the lamp was of a high quality—not as high quality as the ones he kept in his own home, but it was definitely indicative of the type of hotel he liked to stay in.
He must be out on tour, then. Silly of him to forget. But then, he always tended to be a bit disoriented in the mornings. Especially at—he glanced at the clock again—not even seven.
Mettaton disentangled himself from the covers and rubbed his eye. His hand came back covered in mascara and eyeshadow. Did I really forget to take my makeup off last night? Ugh.
His gaze fell upon the floor next to his bed, where a flouncy white dress lay as if it had been removed quickly. Not much farther away lay pieces of a black tuxedo. On a table set against the far wall sat a small red rose.
He knew those things meant something, but… God, he was so stupid in the mornings.
It wasn’t until he heard something shift next to him and looked over that he finally put the pieces together.
He’d gotten married yesterday.
Wide awake now, Mettaton stared at the skeletal body that faced away from him. Papyrus, his boyfriend—no, his husband now. Mettaton was a married man. It was something no one, least of all him, had ever really expected.
He’d always been a free spirit. He had never really been interested in relationships, thinking they would just tie him down. Then he’d met Papyrus, and it had felt like the entire trajectory of his life had changed in an instant.
Papyrus didn’t tie him down. If anything, Mettaton felt freer than ever, knowing the glory of love. Of course he was complete by himself, but Papyrus complemented him, supported him in a way no one else ever had.
Still, tying the knot had been a difficult decision for Mettaton to make, but the second he was standing before that altar with Papyrus, he knew it had been the right one. Their love had always been public, but this was different. Even as they stood in front of a hundred people at their wedding, Mettaton had had eyes only for Papyrus. At the same time that he was making his commitment known to the world, he felt everything had been just for the man who was lying next to him now.
Papyrus made a noise and turned over, now facing toward Mettaton. A great smile spread across the robot’s face as he took in Papyrus’s features—the slightly yellowed white of his skull, the prominent brow bones, those adorable little canine teeth… Mettaton had to put a hand to his mouth and contain himself; it was all too much.
Sighing happily, he lay back down and reached out to trace Papyrus’s facial features, starting when the skeleton’s eyes flew open. That was right, Papyrus was a light sleeper…
But he didn’t at all seem unhappy that Mettaton had woken him. That skeleton’s smile grew into a real one, and he hunched his shoulders. “Hi,” he said, almost shyly.
“Hi,” Mettaton replied, breathless.
The two lay there, one of them occasionally making an audible giggle or breath, until Mettaton finally said, “So… yesterday.”
Papyrus’s smile turned into a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now. I think it’s a bit late for that.”
“That’s not what meant!” Mettaton laughed. Then he sighed again. “I just can’t believe everything that happened.”
“Me either,” Papyrus admitted. He reached out and ran a hand through Mettaton’s bangs, revealing the eye that was still unfinished after all this time. His fingers brushed over Mettaton’s temple, his cheek… “…you didn’t take off your makeup last night.”
“Yes, I realized that.”
Papyrus grinned. “You look like you have a black eye.”
“Why, you little—” Mettaton pursed his lips. “For that, you get no kisses this morning.”
Papyrus’s eye sockets widened. “What? B-But—you know I can’t survive without them!”
“Should have thought of that before you made that little comment.” Mettaton turned to face away from Papyrus, unable to otherwise hide his smile.
“But, Mettaton! I—I’m sorry! I’ll never say anything like that again!”
“Hmm.” Mettaton turned back on his back, using every acting skill he had to pretend he was considering Papyrus’s apology. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die!”
“You know I’m going to hold you to that,” Mettaton joked.
“Please, Mettaton, kiss me, or I will die.”
“You are so dramatic.” Mettaton turned back on his side and pecked Papyrus’s nasal bone. “There.”
“Wh—I—That’s it?!”
Mettaton burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, love, you’re just so much fun to tease!” He laughed harder as Papyrus put on an absolutely pitiful look. “Oh, come here, you.”
Mettaton proceeded to bathe Papyrus in a shower of kisses—first all over his face, then pulling the covers down to his husband’s hips and getting his neck, shoulders, and chest. Papyrus was laughing uncontrollably as Mettaton’s lips traveled over his rib cage. “You’re—tickling—me!” he gasped out.
“Good.” Mettaton didn’t stop for a second other than to say that word.
After a few minutes of that, when he got the feeling Papyrus was going to pass out if he laughed anymore, Mettaton finally ended the shower and nestled his face in Papyrus’s chest. He felt Papyrus’s arms come up around him, the fingers of one hand tangling themselves in his silky hair, the thumb of his other hand stroking his side. All was quiet for a good while; Mettaton even felt himself falling back asleep.
“Mettaton?”
Mettaton’s eye flew open. “Yes, sweet?”
“I love you.”
Mettaton brought his hand up to Papyrus’s shoulder and squeezed. “I love you, too.”
Nothing more was said for a while. Neither of them felt the need to break their silence; all they needed was to listen to the cackle of seagulls and the waves of the ocean outside as they reveled in their new connection to each other.
In that moment, Mettaton wanted for nothing.