Chapter Text
It’s a beautiful day outside,
The birds are singing,
the flowers are blooming,
And kids like you…
Are running late to work.
Why? What on earth possessed you to drive in front of city hall? You could have gone a back way and gotten to work sooner. You could have parked downtown and WALKED and gotten to work sooner.
But no. You decided to drive to work today. You decided to to take the shortest route from point A to point B.
You decided that it probably wasn’t worth the jail time to run down the protesters blocking the street. Well… the jury was still out on that one but you accept that everyone has their own opinion. You understand that some people will fight tooth and nail to try and force their opinion down your throat.
It was just a fact of the world. There would always be the fire and brimstone types that preach on street corners, there would always be the conservative types that picket in front of the planned parenthood clinics. But more recently, there were these new groups of protesters, if you could call them that. Some of their actions border on assault and vandalism.
Holding up signs that proclaim things like “Human Pride”, “Demons go back to hell”, “We put them Underground for a reason”, “Monsters stole our jobs, what next?” And well… those were just the more tasteful. These Anti-monster groups popped up overnight after the monsters were freed nearly three years ago. They died down for a time when the negotiations seemed deadlocked and monsters were stuck in a perpetual state of “not citizens,” but just last month something amazing happened.
The negotiations were over, monsters were considered honorary citizens, they could work, have homes, go to school, and be protected by the country just like everyone else. It was amazing, a huge step forward for equality for all races and species of sentient life on this little blue planet.
It may have taken two and a half years longer than it should've, but Monsters were now considered “people” by law.
Of course, ever since the protesters and the monster hate groups have come back in full force to try and fight it.
Hence why you were ten minutes late to work and in a sour mood. There must have been over fifty protesters in front of City Hall today, enough that they were blocking the street. Some of the ballsier ones had shoved pamphlets under windshield wipers.
You parked your car down the street, almost slamming the door shut and locking it. You ripped the pamphlets from your windshield and started to rip it up. You had to spend the last five miles driving with the demonized illustration of the monster king fighting an elderly bearded man in a dress staring you down and you were SO done with it. You took no small amount of joy as you sprinkled your freshly made confetti into the trashcan in front of your work. Satisfied with your moderately petite revenge, you took a deep breath.
You could do this, you made it to work and work was safe from the bigotry of the outside world. You didn’t even have to deal with bullshit customers most of the time. You were a chef. You spent most of your time in the back.
Hell, you can count on one hand how many times you’ve had to come to the front room to deal with a problem.
As calm as you could make yourself you turn and take the few steps you needed to push open the front door. Your eyes scanned the room briefly, looked like most of the tables were set and judging from the smell coffee was on.
You work in a cute, little, themed diner nestled downtown. Unless you were shown it by a local you probably wouldn’t find it. The theme? Every campy movie that aired between the years 1950 and 1990. Oh, and also Elvis. With its darker tones and edgier atmosphere, it had more the look of a bar than a diner.
Shit, the place even kept bar hours. It opened at eleven and closed at five in the morning. It might not be a bar, but it certainly catered to the nightlife. Where else was a drunk to go to get pancakes at three in the morning?
This little diner was a haven for local drunks and college students pulling all-nighters alike. Your little home away from home.
But what was home without a beautiful wife?
The doors to the kitchen swung open and lo and behold your angel appeared.
Okay, so maybe Rodney didn’t fit the storybook image of “Beautiful work wife/manager/nagging meddler” but the six foot beast of a ginger with a glorious beard would always be your platonic princess.
In your mind, you were pretty sure he would have a chuckle at your mental ramblings, but on the off chance he didn’t you’ve seen him actually throw out the more unruly drunks. He could get some distance with them if he really wanted to.
A gruff but kind voice called your name, pulling your focus back to the matter at hand.
“You're late. You're never late. Of all the days you picked to be late you pick the day Im’a have ya’ train a new hire?” Ah, Rodney’s face was starting to turn the same color as his hair. This was not a good sign.
You were in for a proper nagging if you didn’t act quickly.
“I would have left earlier if I knew I was getting someone new in back, Rod. Probably wouldn’t have mattered with all the protesters in front of City Hall, it's a mess out there.” You held your hands up in surrender.
Rodney paused, a look of worry crossing his face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his face go from being that red to this white so quickly before.
Well, you could name one time, but it was agreed that you never speak of that time.
“They’ve been getting pretty ballsy.” He gave you a calculating look. That was a new one. Normally you could read your work-wife like a book, but this? He looks worried, almost afraid.
You fight the urge to look behind you. He... couldn’t be afraid of you? He was a good foot taller than you and twice as wide. He could lift you one handed if he felt like it. It took you a half moment longer to realize it wasn’t you that worried him, it was your potential opinion.
“They’ll die down eventually. Monsters have every right to etch out their lives on the surface like the rest of us citizens. Honorary or otherwise.”
He seemed to relax. With a deep breath, you did too. You didn’t often share your opinions with people. Opinions always seemed to kill friendships one way or another and you preferred to stay quiet or neutral on most subjects unless pressed.
“That's good. I’m glad you feel that way. Especially since our new hire happens to be one.”
The sharp arch of your eyebrows could not properly portray your surprise. You’ve only ever seen monsters on TV. You were a few hours away from the mountain they came out of so really it was only a matter of time before you saw one in person. The remains of your sour mood drain from you as it was replaced with curiosity and a hint of excitement.
“Look, I know you like to make a game of breaking in your new underlings, but could you maybe be gentle with this one? Despite appearances, I get the feeling he’s pretty young. He was so excited when I gave him the job he got teary-eyed and picked me up in a hug.”
Your mind fritzed out for a moment at the mental image. Just how big was this monster if he could pick up Rodney?
“I know you're not one for special treatment, but he’s a big cinnamon roll and I want to protect him. Do it for me?” Oh god, damn him. Damn Rodney and those pretty green eyes and his long lashes fluttering at you. A man this big and intimidating had no right being able to pull off a pair of puppy dog eyes like this.
“Fiiiine,” You groan out, sidestepping around him. You need to get away from those eyes before you do something stupid.
“But only for you, princess,” You call back pushing through the doors to the kitchen.
At the slightly offended call of your name, you glance back to see Rodney blushing for all his worth. He was also fighting back a smile.
You shot the hairy tomato a grin before turning your focus towards the kitchen in front of you. It didn’t take you long to spot the new hire, and you could see how he easily picked up Rodney.
Standing with his back to you yapping with one of the servers was a seven-foot-tall skeleton monster who looked… oddly buff for a skeleton.
Well then.
It looks like you're doomed to a life of being towered over by swole coworkers, even if this particular coworker had no business being swol. Well… maybe just his arms and face were skeletal? It wasn’t like you could really see under his shirt and it would be rude to ask… probably.
Stupid Rodney, making you promise to be nice. You wouldn’t have worried about being “rude” otherwise.
You had always been one to speak your mind and when it came to questions you had always been one to ask first and apologize if it caused offense. This particular way of battling your own ignorance has earned you a handful of black eyes and more slaps than you care to count growing up but has always left you less ignorant and with a better understanding of the issues of the world.
You remove your jacket and swap it out for your work shirt, your back to the other people in the room.
Well, now you had Google to help you navigate the delicate intricacies of the human race but that still didn’t help with the matter at hand.
What knowledge there was about monsters on the internet was propaganda or creepypasta. Not exactly the stuff you want to take as fact.
You really hoped this… Crap, Rodney didn’t give you his name, you hope he isn’t a slapper, especially considering your first glance, you were pretty sure he could fit your head in one of his hands.
Still, you promised to be nice and that's what you do. Nice people don’t get slapped, right? Right.
Enough lollygagging. You were ready. You were going to go greet your new employee, hold back all of your invasive questions about monsters until a later date, and start his training.
Glancing at your watch before taking it off and stuffing it in your jacket pocket, you wince.
Welp, nothing like trial by fire, hopefully, the morning wasn’t too busy.
With that in mind, you head over to the skeleton and the server who has officially been slack for the last two minutes.
“Sorry to interrupt, Stacy, but I really should show my new sou chef the ropes before we get busy.” Your voice was sickly sweet and you even plastered on a fake smile. It worked better than expected. You’ve never seen someone pale so quickly.
Rodney made you promise to be nice to the new guy. Everyone else was fair game.
“Oh! Y-yes of course! Um… Well, good luck, Papyrus! I’ll talk to you later!” Excellent, you had his name now. You wouldn’t have to ask for it. Stacy stammers another apology as she leaves, dropping your name before disappearing.
Good, one less thing you have to do.
“IT WAS PLEASANT TALKING TO YOU, HUMAN STACY!” Oh wow. Could this guy project. Your ears were ringing and you were standing a few feet away so not to strain your neck from looking up. This guy had a good two feet on you.
“ARE YOU THE HUMAN THAT IS TO BE TRAINING ME? I WILL FORGIVE YOU FOR BEING LATE. IT IS UNDERSTANDABLE TO BE NERVOUS TO MEET SOMEONE AS GREAT AS THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”
“Heh, yeah. Sorry, I won’t make a habit of it.” It wasn’t the truth, hell, you didn’t even know you were training today, but you didn’t really want to explain that or the protesters to this guy.
Two strong arms, wrap around you and your feet leave the ground.
Oh god, he was a hugger.
“I’M SO GLAD, HUMAN CHEF! I WAS WORRIED THAT YOU WERE A LAZYBONES LIKE MY BROTHER!” Welp, this answers one of your questions. You could distinctly feel boney ribs and shoulder blades under your arms as you hug/cling for your life back.
“Hah, well, if you put me down we can get started!” Oh god, either his excitement was catchy or your false chipper attitude was good enough to fool yourself.
Your feet met the ground and you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. It was good to be back on earth. You take a moment to straighten yourself before looking back up at the large skeleton.
He’s so excited. He looked like he was vibrating with the effort of holding back.
You had a bad feeling that you were going to have a hard time keeping this one busy.
“I AM READY WHEN YOU ARE, CHEF HUMAN.” He practically cheered before striking a pose.
You swear you felt a breeze.
“Well, then let's get started,” You offered him an honest grin in return. “It's the weekday so we shouldn’t be easy enough to do your training throughout the day.”
Oh boy, you’ve never been wrong.
“Papyrus, why are you punching the vegetables?”
“TO BEAT THEM INTO SUBMISSION!”
“Aah, well, for this recipe we need to cut them up, not crush them.”
“Pap, that griddle is on way too high!”
“UNDYNE SAYS MORE HEAT MEANS MORE PASSION!”
“Ah… Our customers prefer us to cook with a little less passion.”
“I SEE, IT MUST BE A HUMAN COOKING METHOD!”
“Is… Is that glitter?”
“YES! I NOTICED YOUR KITCHEN WAS OUT. LUCKILY I NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT SOME.”
“We have to stick to the recipe. Glitter can make some people sick.”
“LIKE AN ALLERGY?”
“Kind of?”
“Did… did you swap out that order for a plate of spaghetti?”
“YES… IT IS BY FAR A MORE SUPERIOR DISH.”
“Okay. Not going to lie, I fully agree with you on that one. But we should probably not do that again.”
Gods, stars, and anyone who was listening, you were wrong.
You can handle a kitchen by yourself--hell, you’ve done it enough times--but with Papyrus, it was like running a kitchen while babysitting a seven-foot tall toddler pumped full of caffeine.
Sure, you let that last one slide. The guy was too drunk to notice his order of pancakes was kinda noodly.
But the rest.
God, the rest had your hands searching your pockets for the cigarettes you gave up months ago.
You didn’t know who you want to smack more: Rodney for hiring this sweetheart of a monster without knowing anything about his ability or this mystical Undyne who apparently taught Papyrus everything he knew--which, as far as you were concerned, gave Papyrus negative cooking points.
Looking at the lanky monster while watching him flip an egg “gently” like you showed him, just a few hours ago you let out a sigh.
You couldn’t blame Rodney. Papyrus had a spark in him, charisma, enthusiasm, flexibility. You didn’t have to remind yourself once to be nice when Papyrus turned those sparkling sockets towards you.
This was all Undyne’s fault. You hope you never meet her face to face because you probably won’t be able to hold back the urge to hit her for teaching Papyrus so many bad kitchen habits.
The doors opened and in comes the night chef. An old man with a long beard he would stuff into a hair net. He looks like he was pulled from the backwoods and someone stuffed him in an apron.
Craig was a quiet sort and kept to himself, but he was nice enough.
His appearance meant one thing. It was time for you to go home and sleep. Well… Once you took care of something first.
“Hey, Papyrus? Before you head out, can we chat for a minute?”