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“What is it?” Papyrus asked, peering into the plastic bowl you were currently mixing. A heavy floral scent was emanating from the bowl, with a heavy chemical smell. You sighed and put it down on the counter, turning to him. He had his arms extended, holding the old towels you had asked him to hold for you in his normally gloved hands and with a wide eyed curious expression on his features. You didn’t like him wearing his gloves when he was with you as you liked to feel his hands. Of course, you never told him he had to remove the gloves, he did it himself, and by his own choice.
You had invited your boyfriend over, as it was your scheduled date night and you didn’t want to cancel on him for this. Also, you knew Sans had come to rely on your date nights as a break from Papyrus. He loved his brother, that was not in question, but Sans needed time to himself, to deal with night terrors, visit his psychiatrist (which Papyrus didn’t know about.) as well as to just relax. Normally the two of you might watch some Mettaton movies, practice some puzzles, as it turned out Papyrus was very good at helping you to organise your work and when you were confused he could offer an abstract view on it which somehow helped. If all else failed Sans seemed to be the fountain of all knowledge, although extracting information could be hard if he didn’t want you to share it. So it paid to stay on his good side.
Plus, you knew Papyrus would enjoy seeing the results of your experiment, even if it turned out wrong. He certainly seemed mesmerised by the colourful mix in your hands.
“It’s hair dye, Paps.” You replied. The heady smell of chemicals was invading your nose, making you feel a little woozy and you wondered if Papyrus could smell it too. Apparently the companies couldn’t cover the smell of bleach. He tilted his head on one side like a bird in curiosity.
“What’s it for?” He inquired. You almost replied sarcastically for a moment before remembering exactly who you were talking to. This was the guy who thought he had ears for a large section of his life.
“It’s for changing the colour of my hair Papy.” You said, distractedly mixing the last of the mixture thoroughly. You were glad your friend who worked at a hairdressers had agreed to hook you up with some quality hair dye. You hoped the colour would be right. It was hard to tell sometimes from the mix.
“Oh. You can do that? I like your hair colour though!” He spoke mournfully, but incredulous at the concept of your ability to change the colour of your hair. He peered over your shoulder into the bowl, chin almost touching you. It was ready. You were glad you felt so comfortable around Papyrus, especially now that you were dressed in ratty old clothes in case of getting the dye on your clothes.
“Yeah you can! And so do I. It’s just nice to have a change sometimes. Trust me on that one.” You spoke reassuringly. You grabbed the brush and began to paint part of your hair with the D/C mixture. You tried to avoid getting it on your face, but it seemed to be unavoidable. The people on YouTube sure made this look a lot easier than it actually was. You were by no means an expert who dyed their hair often, although you had done it before. But you had expected it to be messy so thanks to Papyrus’ mess hating self you had prepared twice as well. He watched you struggle awkwardly with your hair curiously for about 10 minutes before putting the towels on your sofa, and prying the plastic brush out of your hand gently.
“Let me try please? You’re making such a mess.” He begged. You relinquished control of the brush to him reluctantly. After all, he couldn’t do any worse than you, as you wiped some dye from your chin. He gestured to let you sit between his legs facing the TV and watch it. You shook your head.
“Papy, this stuff is really messy and it’ll stain your clothes.” You swept your hand down your own top, indicating the few splodges already staining your old t-shirt. “I don’t want you to get your nice clothes all messed up. Give me a moment.” With that, you ran to your room and returned moments later with a huge white t-shirt you’d had for ever, and some oversized black jogging trousers.
“I’ll turn my back so you can change.” You informed him. He nodded and you turned your back on him. You heard the rustle of material a few times, and then before you could register he told you to turn back around.
He was dressed in the white t-shirt, hanging loosely from his bones, although it was slightly too small and you could see his hipbones peeking over the top of the tracksuit bottoms, done up tightly around his waist. In a pile on the sofa were his clothes, on the top was his ‘cool dude’ top. The only thing he hadn’t removed were his glasses. After arriving on the surface it had become increasingly obvious Papyrus needed glasses due to the amount of times he walked into doors and walls. A lack of pupils meant he couldn’t see well. Even Sans had pupils in his big sockets. He had struggled to identify you and Frisk as humans, he always typed in capitals and enjoyed being read to by Sans far more than reading himself even though he usually hated being dependant on his brother. You had insisted on taking him to an optometrist and getting him prescribed glasses.
Since then he hadn’t had any problems with doorframes, meaning his new house could afford to have smaller doorways. Papyrus also became even more observant, noticing small details about people’s body language. And you couldn’t deny, he looked very attractive in glasses, even if he had to tape them to the side of his head every day. One thing that didn’t happen though was ending the bedtime reading Sans did to Papyrus. You were glad, because it seemed like an important thing to Sans. Being needed seemed to be valuable to him. You wondered if it was because he had ever felt as though he was powerless to stop something…or someone.
Papyrus settled himself on the sofa, feet clicking gently across the wooden floor, boots next to his clothes. You plopped yourself between his legs, cautioning him against getting the dye on his bone. He assured you he would be careful and you focused on the TV. The movie was around halfway through. You’d seen it before, but it was one of your favourites so it was easy to get lost in the story.
The sensation of Papyrus applying the dye to your hair was relaxing, gentle precise strokes from his bones and the brush. He’d logically divided your hair to apply the dye in the most effective way, avoiding smearing it on too thickly in any place. You closed your eyes to the sensation.
After a little while you realised you’d almost dosed off. You also realised that Papyrus was singing softly, and the movie had finished about 20 minutes ago. He was a good singer, and you didn’t want to interrupt him so you merely listened to the words until you realised you knew the song.
“Oh, her eyes, her eyes make the stars look like they're not shining
Her hair, her hair falls perfectly without her trying
She's so beautiful
And I tell her every day.”
His voice was softer than his regular speaking voice. It washed over you in a refreshing manner. You had never heard him sing before. You could imagine Sans being shy about something like singing but not Papyrus.
Bruno Mars? You couldn’t say you’d ever picked Papy as being a Bruno Mars fan but still. You weren’t one to judge. You smiled faintly and began to sing the next verse quietly.
“Yeah, I know, I know when I compliment him, he won't believe me
And it's so, it's so sad to think that he don't see what I see
But every time he asks me do I look okay?
I say.”
You knew you weren’t the best singer in the world by any means, but you liked singing and you were good enough that you were only slightly embarrassed by joining in.
He fell silent as you sang, and you were worried he wouldn’t resume and you had scared him off but as you began the chorus, his voice rose to accompany yours.
“When I see your face
There's not a thing that I would change
'Cause you're amazing
Just the way you are.”
Simultaneously you fell silent. You sat in awkward silence for a moment before you snorted in embarrassment. Apparently that was all that was needed as Papyrus burst out laughing alongside you, his high pitched laughs mixing with yours in a pleasant manner. The two of you laughed until you started to gasp for breath.
You opened your eyes and carefully looked up to so your boyfriend grinning widely, eyes closed in delight. You turned around, shuffling on your knees on the hard wooden floor to face him and pressed a soft kiss to his teeth. Then you went to draw back only to find Papyrus’ hands on your shoulders keeping you against him. He pressed his teeth more firmly against your mouth. His tongue traced the curve of your mouth, smoothing over your bottom lip, and outlining your cupid’s bow, before asking gently for entrance, which you granted with a sigh. His hands slowly migrated south to rest on your hips, your own hands coming to roost on his femurs.
Reluctantly you pulled back. A trail of bright orange saliva connected your mouths. Papyrus’ florescent orange tongue emerged and broke it with a quick flick of the magical appendage. You studied him, noticing he had managed to emerge from the debacle completely dye free. There wasn’t a speck on his hands or skull. You marvelled at the fact, before using Papyrus’ legs to leaver yourself up onto your feet, your legs going numb from the pressure of sitting on them. Papyrus helped you by placing his hands around your waist and lifting, although with too much enthusiasm as he swept you off your feet. Once he apologetically lowered you back to the ground, you steadied yourself on his shoulder.
“Thanks Paps. Come on, I’ve got to go wash this off. Bring the towels would you?” You asked, heading for the bathroom. He grabbed the towels from their seat on the sofa. He followed you to the bathroom, where you knelt on the uncomfortable floor and hung your head over the side of the bath, reaching for the shower head which Papyrus handed you, able to unhook it far easier than you were able to due to his extended reach. He didn’t know what much of the bathroom was for, but he knew he liked to help you where possible.
You flipped it on, the warm water streaming from the small holes. You held it over your head, coloured water streaming from your head in rivulets. You waited until the water ran a little clearer. Then you reached for the shampoo, massaging the pleasantly scented liquid into your scalp. D/C soap bubbles ran from your head and pooled near the drain.
Eventually the soap turned back to the classic white it was supposed to be and you rinsed the last of it from your hair.
Wringing out the strands, you waved behind you for the towel which was placed swiftly in your hand by Papyrus.
“Thanks Papy.” You mumbled, wrapping the towel around your hair, and sitting up. You ran a small amount of water to get rid of the dye in the bottom of the tub. You then opened a window in the steamy room. The two of you left the room, and you exited to your bedroom to dry your hair, whilst Papyrus went to set up the next film.
You grabbed the hair dryer, blowing the hot air through the silky strands. You carefully brushed it, styling it like you would normally. Glancing in the mirror you grinned. You certainly liked it. But would Papyrus?
When you walked in his face fell as observed your new hair colour and then lit up in delight. He swept you into an excited hug.
“It looks so nice Y/N!” He yelped. You smiled widely.
“Thanks Papy. It means the world hearing you say that.”
“Naturally! I am the great Papyrus after all!” You laughed at his dorky statement.
“You certainly are sweetie.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek which lit up like a fairy light.
He sighed gently in happiness and flopped down on the sofa, arms wrapped around you. You snuggled into his chest comfortably. He smelt like the hair dye.
“Hey Papyrus?”
“Yes Y/N?”
“Just so you know, I’d dye for you.” You commented.
“Thank you Y/N! I would do the same for you! Although I certainly hope such dramatic circumstances are never called-wait. Was that a pun?” He asked.
You offered him a sheepish grin.
“Argh! You have been around my brother too much lately! Clearly you need to spend more time with me!”
“Mm. Sounds good to me Papy.”
And the two of you spent the rest of the day exchanging compliments, cuddles and kisses. But you knew one thing was true. You really would die for your skeleton.