Work Text:
Papyrus is just about done with his usual grocery shopping, which has been more stressful than usual. Sans hasn’t come home since leaving last night. He didn’t tell Papyrus where he was going or with whom, not even when he’d be back. It’s not the first time something like this has happened, but it’s the first time that he hasn’t fallen asleep drunk on the staircase.
He’s lost in his own worry until a woman accidentally runs into him, causing him to stumble a few steps backwards.
“I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” It’s a young lady with some strands of long, black hair hanging from her bun. She’s hurriedly picking up some fallen papers, making sure to put them back in their proper order.
Papyrus shoots into action as he starts helping her pick up several documents. They look private, so he tries to ignore their contents, only glancing at the numbers at the bottom of the page.
“IT IS QUITE ALRIGHT, I WAS DISTRACTED AS WELL.” Why did he just say that? What if people start to think he’s a messy scatterbrain like his brother.
“Really? You don’t seem like the type.” She shoots him a quick look while shoving some neat stacks back into her shoulderbag.
Papyrus raises a surprised eyebrow. While he knows how tidy he usually is, how would she think so as well? “WHAT MAKES YOU SAY THAT?”
The lady stops for a moment, giving him a thoughtful look. Scanning over the folds of his jacket and all the little elements of his outfit that he’s suddenly aware of. If he knew he was going to get checked out so thoroughly he would’ve at least ironed his pants a third time. There’s an analytical glint in her eye right before she straightens her back and smiles.
“First of all, your groceries are neatly organised by type and weight in their respective bags.” She points at the two bags that are hanging over his shoulders, perfectly balanced for his trek home. “Then there’s the matter of how incredibly symmetrical the laces of your shoes are tied.”
Papyrus’ blank expression falters when she keeps pointing out small details that he always puts a lot of work into. Only someone of great standing themselves would notice the true genius of his daily life.
“And last, you’re bending down enough to help, but not so much that your jacket is dirtied by-”
Before she can answer her sentence she gets cut off by her own ringtone, a loud sort of classical piece, but unlike anything Papyrus heard before. She mutters something under her breath as she rises to her feet and picks up.
“Good afternoon. I have your documents right here, no need to worry.” He hands her the stack of papers he’s still holding and she shoves them with the rest into her bag. A warm smile spreads across her face when her dark brown eyes meet his.
Her hand covers the speaker of her phone and she whispers. “Thanks for the help. Reach out if you would like to continue our conversation.”
Papyrus gets a small card pushed onto the palm of his hand while the woman walks away in a hurry. He could swear there was some red dusted on her cheeks, but it could’ve been her red nailpolish. The sound of heels clicking against the stone tiles follows her footsteps as she walks off before he gets the chance to double check.
He pulls his grocery bags from the floor and is about to walk off when he notices the logo on the business card. It’s from a smaller law firm in the area, in fact, the same one that helped him set up his business when they just started out on the surface.
‘Shaanti Miller
Human and Monster Rights Lawyer
1-800-241-xxxx’
Shaanti… it suits her. He might send her an email when he gets home, or maybe not. There’s no real reason for him to reach out after all. The card seems fragile, being made from cardboard, so he’ll keep it safe in his inner pocket.
He’s about to resume his walk home when he spots an incredibly familiar figure. “SANS?”
***
That has to be in the top 10 worst conversations he’s had with Sans in, well, ever. He still can’t believe his brother would walk away over something so stupid as a potential datemate, but maybe it’s his own fault for not checking in as much lately. It’s just been so busy running the store. He wants it to be an always-available beacon of hope, but some specific hours just never seem to make a profit.
He hangs his coat on a hanger and something falls out.
It’s the card from Miss Miller… She was the type of observant that could be useful in case something happened to the shop. Or if his annoyingly impulsive brother decides to make a scene again. He should probably keep this somewhere safe for when he needs it.
Papyrus picks it up from the ground and takes it over to his ‘drawer of useful things’ where he places it next to his pristine pencil sharpener.
Most of him hopes to never need a lawyer, though a small part of him hopes this wasn’t the last time he meets someone as interesting as her.