Chapter Text
Up until recently, Mettaton has been certain of one thing: he doesn’t want kids.
Maybe want isn’t quite right. To be honest, they’ve never really been a factor; he didn’t enjoy being one, he never had any younger siblings, and his cousins are around his age. And it’s not as if he’s had many dealings with them over the course of his career. Even of his youngest fans are teenagers, and his encounters with them have only ever taken the form of brief meet and greets and the occasional photo op. Nothing to write home about, certainly.
So perhaps it’s only natural for him to be somewhat surprised by how fond he’s become of children since he started seeing Tenna.
His boyfriend is essentially the personification of family friendly entertainment. TV Time is strictly an all-ages affair, and even his network’s other ventures have largely stuck to that demographic, with a few exceptions in the form of the odd late night programme (and even they’re still quite tame). Kids aren’t uncommon on the set, whether they be actors or gameshow contestants or focus group members, and Tenna delights in taking care of them as much as he can. He certainly treats them better than any of the adults he employs (although he’s slowly improving on that front).
And then there’s Kris.
Mettaton doesn’t know Kris, of course – he’s never even met them – but they’re near and dear to his boyfriend’s heart, being his best friend’s kid. He’d mentioned them and their older brother a few times early on in their relationship, and their friends had often featured in those stories, but Susie and Ralsei were officially inducted into the family when they all started working at Tenna’s studio over the summer.
Tenna talks about them all the time, whether it’s to share something silly Kris did backstage, or how Ralsei helped him figure out the arcane secrets of his work computer (“did you know you can actually change the picture that shows up when you start it? That’s clever stuff!”), or some brilliant new story idea Susie came up with. He often stays late at the studio just to keep an eye on them, and when he’s not doing that he’s up all night fretting about them instead.
It would be annoying if it wasn’t so sweet.
All that to say, Mettaton isn’t particularly shocked when Tenna calls him saying he’s offered to look after one of them for the night.
He’s just turning the key in the door to Tenna’s suburban fortress when his phone demands his attention with an unrelenting buzz. He rolls his eyes, kicks the door open and throws down his bags before digging it out of his shorts pocket, cursing Alphys for only giving him a measly two hands. Why didn’t he get her to install another pair? It would certainly make things a lot more convenient.
Then again, he’d probably need to go out and get a whole new wardrobe. So maybe not that convenient.
He manages to catch it on the last ring, swiping a perfectly manicured finger across the screen and tapping the speakerphone so he can take off his shoes in peace.
“Hello, darling,” he purrs, swanning into the living room and setting his phone down on the coffee table as he sits down to unbuckle his boots, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Metty! How was the recording?” Mettaton can practically hear Tenna’s tail wagging halfway across the city. A smile spreads across his face.
“Oh, it was perfect, of course. But I’m never anything else.” He laughs, pulling off one boot and starting on the next. “How are you?”
“I’m good! I’m good, yeah, I wanted to…” He goes quiet, and for a moment Mettaton can only hear the crackle of the line and the soft fuzzing of a CRT screen held a little too close to an old flip phone.
“To…?” He prompts, kicking off his other shoe and flopping onto the cushions.
“Ah, sorry! I was just thinking. Um… do you remember me talking about one of the kids who works here, Susie? I don’t know if I’ve told you about her?”
“Once or twice,” Mettaton says drily. Truly, he’s lost track of the number of times Tenna’s called him up during work hours to talk about how wonderful she is. “If you weren’t a robot I’d assume she was your daughter.”
“I don’t know about that…”
Mettaton scoffs. “Darling, the way you go on, you’re about a month away from filing adoption papers.”
“Sorry…”
“No, no, it’s very cute.” He pads out of the living room and back to the hall to pick through his abandoned overnight bags. “Is she all right?”
“Well… no, not really.” Tenna sighs. “But I’m hoping I can help. That… we can help. Do you remember a while back when I had to cancel our date ‘cause she needed looking after?”
“Oh, yes. Although we still managed to have a good time afterwards, if I recall.” He smirks. Tenna squeaks.
“Metty!” His speakers sputter.
“Sorry!” Mettaton says, in a tone that suggests that he isn’t sorry at all. “So how can we help, exactly?”
“Well, she usually hangs around Tori’s house as much as she can, but that isn’t always an option, so I asked her if she’d be comfortable staying at mine. She… I dunno exactly what it is, but she really hates going home.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yeah. We probably need to work out something else eventually, but I figured this would be a decent stopgap, y’know? She was really happy about it. So…”
“Well, you certainly have the room,” Mettaton admits, glancing around the cavernous hall. “When?”
“Well, whenever she wants, really, but… she did ask if she could come over tonight. And I said yes,” he adds a little nervously. “If… it’s alright with you?”
Mettaton mulls it over. He had been planning on a relaxed evening, just the two of them and the bottle of coolant he brought. Maybe a bit of a toussle in the sheets, if they’re in the mood (and they’re always in the mood). But his lover sounds so earnest, so genuine.
Tenna loves these kids.
And with how much he’s heard about them, he can’t deny he’s got a soft spot for them too.
“Of course, my darling.”
“Wonderful! You’ll love her, I promise, she’s a fantastic kid.” Mettaton smiles at the fondness in his voice. “Ooh, actually, that reminds me! Could you do me a favour?”
“Anything for you, Mr. Tenna.” The CRT’s gulp is audible even down the line.
“W-Well! Umm… do you think you could grab those sheets out of the dryer once they’re done? I’ll make up one of the rooms for Susie tonight when I get back.”
“Oh no, dear, I’ll take care of it.”
The words are out of his speakers before he even really has a chance to think about them. Since when did he offer to do someone else’s housework? He doesn’t even do his own.
Tenna seems equally confused.
“Huh? No, you don’t have to, I’m the one who–”
“It’s quite all right. The last thing you need after a long day at work is more chores. Besides, I’d only be sitting around looking pretty.”
“Well, you’re very good at that!”
Mettaton preens. “You little charmer!” Tenna giggles.
“All right, I got some work to be getting on with here, so I’ll see you later, ok? But please, don’t go to any trouble! I’ll sort the room when I get back.” Mettaton rolls his eyes.
“Tenna–”
“Promise?”
He hums. “I… promise I won’t go to any trouble?”
“Good.”
Mettaton grins. Too easy.
“Ok, ok, Mike’s calling me, I gotta go! Goodbye, I love you, I love you!” Tenna makes his usual silly kissy noises down the phone and Mettaton snorts.
How did he ever manage to find such an adorably goofy man?
“I love you too, my darling.”
“Bye-bye!”
Beep.
He slips his phone in his pocket, standing to survey the state of the house. His overnight bags are still where he left them in an untidy pile by the door, his outdoor clothes and shoes are scattered about the carpet, and the washing Tenna requested is still tumbling around in the machine. Not to mention making up the room (and that annoyance is entirely self-inflicted).
Why did he volunteer for that, exactly? Kids are so much more his partner’s wheelhouse. Mettaton hates doing chores even at the best of times; that’s why he hired a cleaner to deal with his own place. Nothing about him has ever been paternal, or particularly nurturing, or even that patient. But Tenna loves Susie, and Mettaton loves Tenna, and he’s in his thirties now. All their friends are settled, so maybe it’s about time to…
He slaps a hand to his forehead, almost mortified at the thought. Where on earth is this coming from? Is his motherboard damaged? Did a wire come loose? Since when did he live his life to the whims of a biological clock?
…Do robots even have a biological clock?
Ugh. This is all too much.
The actual clock on the wall catches his eye, hands pointed warningly in his direction (four o’clock, roughly). Two hours until his boyfriend gets home with their new charge in tow.
Maybe he should just get on with it.
-
Two hours later, the house is damn near spotless, Susie’s bedroom looks like something out of a catalogue and Mettaton is exhausted. He’s barely had a chance to change into his lounge clothes (pink bedshorts and an old T-shirt of Tenna’s that absolutely swamps him) and collapse onto the sofa with the latest issue of Vague magazine when the front door crashes open.
“Metty! We’re home!” Tenna calls out cheerfully. Mettaton would just love to groan dramatically and sink into the cushions, but Tenna’s spirits seem far too high for that. And besides, what kind of a first impression would that be?
So instead he affixes a genuine (if a little wan) smile to his face and calls out:
“In here, my darling!”
He’s barely gotten the words out when the lounge door bursts open to reveal his lovely big CRT in all his glory, dressed in his full stage suit (or almost the full stage suit – the banana shoes are missing, seemingly relegated to the shoe rack). Tenna beams at him, bounding across the room in a mere three strides and bending down to smother him in kisses. Mettaton squeals in delight.
“How was your day?”
“Marvellous, dear. Even better now you’re here.” He tenderly cups Tenna’s casing, thumb caressing the ridges around his screen. His boyfriend giggles.
“It’s good to be home, that’s for sure.” He’s opening his mouth to say something else when he’s interrupted by a creak from the hall. Tenna straightens up with a smile, arms thrown wide as he goes to greet their guest in the doorway.
“Susie! Welcome to Casa de Tenna!”
The girl in question is completely invisible behind the considerable bulk of a fifteen foot CRT, so Mettaton elects to get up instead, setting down his magazine on the coffee table and gliding over to Tenna’s side.
“Hello!” He says with a warm smile as he slips one arm around his lover’s waist (or his thighs, at least - he can’t quite reach). “I’m Mettaton.”
The girl standing before him looks uncharacteristically nervous (at least, from what he’s been told). She’s quite tall, probably only a few inches shorter than him, but she seems to shrink back into her threadbare jacket as he approaches, hands slipping into the patched pockets of old jeans, shaggy hair falling over yellow eyes that shy away from his own. She doesn’t smile back, doesn’t say a word. She just nods stiffly, hands held rigidly by her sides like a soldier’s.
Not quite the reaction he was hoping for.
But Mettaton is a professional. He knows how to keep things moving.
“Susie, I take it? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He considers a handshake, but she looks so freaked out that he decides it would probably be a bad idea, and goes for a friendly little wave instead as he continues. “Tenna’s told me such wonderful things.” He pats his boyfriend’s hand. Tenna smiles, though it seems a little tight.
“Um… hi, I…” Susie bites her lip, revealing a set of rather vicious fangs, though with all the hesitating they look quite cute (just like Tenna, Mettaton muses).“Yeah, that’s me, I… I guess.”
“Delightful.” There’s an awkward pause. “Well, let’s not all stand around like lemons,” he says quickly. “We’re only letting the cold in!”
“Sorry,” Susie mumbles, and it’s so meek that Mettaton could just about punch himself. Really? Have some tact, for goodness sake.
But that would only make things worse, so instead he flashes her another grin and gestures to the staircase.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, darling. Now, shall we have a look at your room?”
Tenna’s antennae jump up with a cartoonish boing.
“Wait, no, Metty, you didn’t–”
“I didn’t go to any trouble, and that’s all I promised,” Mettaton replies sweetly. “Besides, I had plenty of time today. It’s the least I could do.”
He very deliberately does not mention the war he waged with Tenna’s vacuum cleaner, or the misadventures he had in trying to tidy the ensuite while ensuring his circuits remained dry, if only for the smile on Tenna’s screen.
That’s why he did it, he realises.
“Oh, you little sweetheart, you!” Tenna squeals, picking Mettaton up and whirling him around. Susie has to duck so she isn’t clocked in the face by one of Mettaton’s dangling slippers, but she seems quite used to her boss’s eccentricities by now.
“Yes, yes, I’m absolutely perfect, I know.” He pats Tenna’s screen, giving Susie an apologetic look. “Now, can we go upstairs? You’ve both had a long day, I’m sure.”
“Yes, yes, sorry!” He puts him down at once, gesturing for Susie to follow. She trots up the stairs behind him. From the hall, Mettaton relishes their gasps as they take in the sight of the room.
“This… is all for me?” He hears her murmur, and a grin spreads across his face. Unable to play it cool for long, he dashes up the stairs to join them, eager to bask in the praise.
He certainly receives that in spades from Tenna, who pauses in his admiring of the tastefully scattered throw pillows on the artfully made up bed (with three blankets and a mattress topper, no less, it’s like sleeping on a cloud) to turn his spotlight of a screen in his direction.
“Oh Metty, you star!” He squeals. He looks like he’s about to grab hold of him again, but Mettaton shushes him softly, gesturing towards Susie.
She’s wandering around the suite in a daze, drifting from the bathroom cabinet stocked with luxury face masks and travel-sized bottles of expensive shampoo, to the polished oak wardrobe stuffed with fluffy robes and slippers, to the bedside table full of earplugs and sleep masks. Mettaton picks them up from the hotels he stays at while he’s on tour, and he’s watched enough guest room restocking videos on Instablam to know how to set up his visitors in style.
Despite all the effort, however, Susie still doesn’t crack a smile.
“Um… Thanks…” She mumbles instead, dropping her backpack by the bed, dirty shoes scuffing the spotless carpet. Mettaton winces.
“Do you… like it?” He asks, as though her feelings on the matter aren’t obvious by now. Her only reply is an uncertain nod.
“Yeah, you uh… you sure did a lot.”
“Mhm?” A small, ugly part of him wants to keep going, really lay on the passive-aggression (seriously, what kind of a response is that?), but before he can indulge himself Tenna takes him by the hand, laughing a little uncomfortably.
“We’ll leave you to get settled in, alright? And I’ll put in that Four Gals order for you.” He smiles down at Susie, patting her on the shoulder. She barely seems to register it. “Come find us whenever you want, ok? We’ll just be downstairs.”
And with that, Mettaton finds himself being ushered out of the room, unexpectedly deflated.
-
“Does she even like it?!”
They’re in Tenna’s room, well after Susie’s had dinner (burgers and fries from Four Gals, which she wolfed down in silence) and excused herself to her room. Mettaton stands in front of the mirror, brush in hand, debating how best to tackle the tangles in his usually flawless mane. Tenna watches him from the bed, one thumb still marking his place in the book he was reading, though that effort has long since been abandoned in favour of watching Mettaton stomp around the vanity.
“Of course she does,” he replies. “It’s just a lot for her to take in, that’s all.”
“I know, but…” Mettaton elects to just pick a spot and starts tugging the brush through it with gritted teeth. “I was hoping for more of a–” he pulls at a particularly matted clump “–reaction, I suppose.”
“Metty, please don’t think Susie’s ungrateful. It’s just very overwhelming. How would you feel if you’d spent your whole life living in misery only to be given all of this?” His hand sweeps across the room and the finery within. “I don’t think her parents have much, and their ‘love’ sure isn’t making up for it.”
“Yeah…” He tugs again, but the brush doesn’t budge. Tenna carries on.
“She’ll warm up to you eventually, I know it.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” The brush snags one too many times and Mettaton loses it. He tears the horrid thing out of his hair entirely, hurling it down on the bed. Tenna frowns.
“Do you want me to do that?”
“No!”
“Come on, let me.”
Mettaton scowls. “How do you know what I want?”
“Because,” Tenna begins, setting down his book and pulling him onto his lap, soft despite the snapping, “the Metty I know would never turn down a pampering.”
Mettaton relents as the bigger robot starts stroking his hair. A little reluctant, he passes Tenna the brush.
“...You’re not wrong,” he mumbles eventually, face flushing with embarrassment. Tenna chuckles, and Mettaton takes a moment to enjoy how his circuits rumble beneath him as he starts to brush out his ends.
“So what’s the matter, hmm? I didn’t think impressing Susie would be so important to you.”
“I didn’t think so either,” he admits, leaning his head into Tenna’s hands, enjoying the way his big claws itch his scalp. “I suppose… she’s very important to you, and you’re very important to me, and I just…” He bites his lip.
“You just…?” Tenna prompts gently, working the brush through until his hair starts to cooperate, falling in its usual soft black waves. Mettaton sighs.
As much as he’d love to be honest, he knows better than to mention the notion of having children in front of Tenna. He always gets far too excited.
“I don’t know,” he lies. “Perhaps I’m just not used to her yet.”
“And she’s not used to you.” Tenna pauses in his brushing, resting the bottom ridge of his casing on top of his head. “But it’ll get better, I’m sure of it. She’s a great kid. And you’ll be great with her.” He presses a kiss to his forehead and resumes, fingers running lovingly through his hair.
“I hope so.”
-
It’s past two and Mettaton’s still not having any luck with his recharge cycle.
Usually, he’d blame this on Tenna. He’s an old machine, prone to glitches, and it’s not uncommon for his screen to burst into life in the middle of the night, practically blinding Mettaton with its searchlight-eque beam, or for the clunking and whirring of his internal mechanisms to wake him up whenever Tenna adjusts his position.
But this time Mettaton has no one to blame but himself. Tenna is sleeping peacefully, screen off, mechanical sounds kept to a minimum as he spoons him, hugging Mettaton to his chest like a teddy bear. The picture of a perfect bedmate.
Mettaton scowls. He’s plugged in, wrapped up in a big cosy bed with what is possibly the softest, sweetest, cuddliest giant robot in the world after some seriously indulgent pampering, and yet he’s still wide awake, processor ticking away as he worries and worries.
It really isn’t like him to be so anxious, especially not these days. His latest album is topping the charts, his upcoming tour is already sold out, and now that he’s opened up about his former identity, he has no skeletons (or ghosts) left in the closet. He should be sleeping like a baby right now.
But he can’t help but think about the little girl sleeping a few rooms down. About how utterly unimpressed she seemed with the room, with him. It’s ridiculous, it’s pathetic. He’s never cared about what anyone thinks of him, let alone some random child.
But Susie isn’t just some random child. She means the world to Tenna.
Mettaton sighs in defeat, untangling his limbs from his boyfriend’s own and shuffling along the vast expanse of mattress until he reaches the edge. Tenna whines in his sleep, reaching across the empty space, missing him even in the depths of his recharge cycle. He looks so dejected that Mettaton rolls his eyes, leans back over and slots his pillow into the spot where he used to be. Tenna curls around it at once, tail thumping against the mattress.
He’s such a dear old thing.
His lover placated, Mettaton slips on his silk robe and slippers, padding across the room and slowly turning the doorknob. The rest of the house is totally black and honestly freezing despite the heat of the day, but neither of those are a problem for a robot like him, and so he ventures out boldly, his palm stroking the bannister as he descends the stairs.
He’s not sure what he’s looking for, exactly. If he were any other kind of monster he’d be hankering for a snack, but robots have no such inclinations, nor does Tenna’s fridge have the options. A glass of coolant, maybe? Though he’s not really in the mood.
Perhaps it’s just air he’s after, then. He crosses the hall and wanders towards the back of the house, through the disused dining room and into the even less-used kitchen.
Moonlight from the french doors pools over the tile floor like running water, illuminating the blue-glazed ceramic with a soft glow, cold but beautiful. The garden beyond is tempting in its darkness, a pitch-dark world of possibility at night rather than the somewhat standard lawn and bushes of the day, and he finds himself drawn towards it, braced against the approaching chill of a late summer storm.
Wait a moment. Why on earth is it so cold?
He gets his answer a moment later when the wind howls around the house, blowing the french doors wide as the sky darkens. Though they appeared shut at first glance, as he approaches he can see one of them was only pushed to, the key still in the lock.
And out there, in the great beyond of Tenna’s oft-neglected garden, is a figure.
His terror lasts about as long as it takes for a cloud to pass over the moon and for the garden to be bathed in cool light once more. It’s no burglar, of course, just Susie, staring up at the stars with those big yellow eyes, shivering in threadbare basketball shorts and a too-thin T-shirt.
“You’ll catch your death out there, you know.”
Perhaps not the friendliest greeting he could’ve offered, but his processors aren’t exactly running at full power. The girl jumps a mile, mane standing on end as she whips around with a guilty look.
“I… I was just…” She stammers. A pang of guilt sparks his circuits.
“I’m only teasing,” he says, a little more gently this time. He steps out through the french doors and onto the lawn, ignoring how the dew soaks into his slippers in favour of giving her a friendly smile instead. “Can’t sleep either?”
“I guess not.” She bites her lip, clawed hands nervously twisting together. He wants to ask another question, but then he remembers Tenna’s point about not overwhelming the poor girl and stops himself, letting the sounds of the night fill the gap instead.
When he actually makes himself listen for a change, it occurs to him just how peaceful it all is. The wind whips around them playfully, occasionally biting at their fingers. The big oak in the back rustles chidingly in response, like a parent scolding a rambunctious child. And somewhere in the distance, far more pronounced than in the city, a bird sings sweetly, a spirited soloist in the otherwise subdued chorus of the night.
“I think that’s a nightingale,” Susie says suddenly. Even she seems surprised by her words; one hand goes to her mouth, embarrassed, and even in the dark Mettaton can see her purple cheeks flushing pink.
“How lovely,” he replies, doing his best to reassure her. “I didn’t take you for an ornithologist.”
“A what?”
“A bird expert.”
“Oh. Uh… I’m not, I guess, but, uh, Ralsei really likes ‘em, and sometimes we go on walks, so…”
“Really?”
“Yea,h it’s… kinda lame, honestly, but…”
“I don’t think it’s lame,” he says kindly. “I think that sounds wonderful.” He pauses. “Tenna likes birds, you know.”
“Does he?”
“Oh yes. He’s dragged me to the zoo a few times to look at the aviary.” He smiles at the memory. “Not that I mind.”
“That’s… that’s cute.”
“It is.”
They lapse into silence once more, albeit a slightly more comfortable one. The cold is beginning to seep into his carbon-fibre frame, but Susie shows no interest in moving, and so Mettaton remains steadfast, gazing up at the stars.
“It’s nice,” Susie begins. Mettaton glances over, head tilted, and notices one of her claws is wearing a fresh hole in the hem of her T-shirt. “The room, I mean. It’s just new is all.”
“Is that why you couldn’t sleep?”
“Yeah. I dunno, I… I’ve only ever slept at Kris’s, and mine, so… it just feels kinda… weird.”
“I can understand that. I rarely sleep well in new places.” He hesitates, then gives her a gentle pat on the shoulder. She jumps, but doesn’t push him away. “I’m sorry if I was a bit much earlier. This must be quite overwhelming.”
“No, no, it’s ok, I wasn’t…” Susie’s shoulders slump. “You were nice. I should’ve been… better.”
“It’s fine, Susie.” A few hours ago that would’ve been a lie, but standing here under the light of a mild summer moon, faced with a girl who’s so unsure, he knows it’s the truth. “You were just getting used to things, that’s all.”
“Thanks.” She smiles slightly. “I always make a pretty lousy first impression.”
“Oh, my dear, that’s nothing. Why, the first time I met Tenna he thought I hated him.”
“Huh?” She looks up, nervousness immediately replaced with incredulity. “How did he figure that?!”
“I didn’t help myself much, believe me.” They both shiver as a particularly powerful gust blows through their thin clothes. “How about we go inside and I’ll tell you about it? I’m freezing my casing off here.”
“Yeah!” Susie grins. “I dunno why I came out. It’s too damn cold.”
“Ah, no, it’s all right,” Mettaton finds himself replying, holding the door open for her. “Sometimes we just need a break.” He glances around the kitchen and his eyes fall on one of the cupboards. They don’t have much food, but he knows Tenna always keeps a few things around for the rare occasions when Kris and Asriel visit.
“Can I get you some cocoa?” He’s a little worried she’ll refuse, or say it’s childish, or just march back up to bed without another word, but of course she doesn’t. Susie’s face lights up like the sun, and it blasts all those cares away.
If this is parenting, then maybe he can get behind it after all.