Paps froze. Red knew well that he didn’t make promises, but he wasn’t leaving him any options here. Paps couldn’t very well say ‘no’. He sighed. “alright, kid. i promise i won’t do anything that risks your or edge’s safety. how’s that?”
Red considered, then nodded. “that’ll do.” He turned away and started back toward the spare room. “don’t think i won’t hold ya to that,” he warned, then disappeared into the spare room to go back to sleep. Or continue his vigil. Paps wasn’t really sure which.
In either case, the smaller skeleton had left him somewhat disturbed. Paps’ hand slipped into his pocket to play with his lighter. He took a step and teleported out back to his customary smoking spot. He wanted, badly, to deny Red’s concerns, but just recalling Edge’s…performance earlier in the evening had his jaw and pelvis growing hot with repressed magic. He had no idea how to even describe what Edge had been doing—it certainly wasn’t any kind of flirting he was familiar with. It had been too aggressive for that.
But, damn, had it been hot.
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, allowing inhaled smoke to swirl around the interior of his ribcage. It licked at the magic holding his bones together and caused his soul to spark with pleasure-pain. The memory of red eyelights mere inches from his own, the inviting scent of pepper and bones surrounding him…. Paps exhaled, smoke curling from his jaw and eye sockets. No, he couldn’t deny that he wanted Edge.
(Edge looming over him and smirking, one hand on his cervical vertebrae and the other wrapped around his wrists. Holding him down. Keeping him captive. Projecting /Security/Stability/Control/Strength/. “Now, purr for me, Swapshit.”)
Another drag on his cigarette. damn it. His pelvis warmed further, but he forced the magic down. He couldn’t deny the current of anger that accompanied his attraction. The anger wasn’t directed at Edge, though, but at himself. How could he find that arrogant ass attractive? He was a complete dick. Sure, Paps may have been wrong about him being an abusive asshat, but he was still an asshat.
Even if he obviously loved his brother dearly, no matter how poorly he showed it. Even if he was cute when he blushed. Even if his stupid fucking story about the stupid fucking racecar box was both endearing and heartbreaking.
None of that mattered. Regardless of Red’s concerns, Paps had no intention of acting on his attraction. He’d spent so long hating the other skeleton for something he didn’t do, hating the ugliness and bitterness he saw in Edge.… Realizing that the scarred skeleton wasn’t who he’d always assumed him to be was throwing Paps off kilter. Worse, he realized that he’d been using Edge as a kind of measuring stick, figuring that they were both shitty brothers but rationalizing to himself that at least he wasn’t as bad as Edge.
Now, he was still using Edge as a measuring stick, but Paps was coming up short. And all the hatred that he’d had for Edge was being redirected at himself. After all, if the edgelord looked good in comparison, then what kind of a fuckup was he?
Edge might be a jackass, but at least he tried. When was the last time Paps had actually put any effort into anything? He remembered how appalled Edge had looked when Paps said that Blue was used to picking up after him. Why did Blue put up with him, anyway? Blue deserved better. A lot better. Paps wished he could be more like Rus, but it just wasn’t in him.
Somehow, Rus managed to look around himself, see what could be, and tirelessly work toward that goal. Blue was the same. Even Edge possessed some of that drive, though he was probably driven more by spite and stubbornness than the sweeter skeletons’ endless positivity. Paps just didn’t have the energy or the optimism. Why build something up, spend all that time and effort, only to watch it get torn down? How did they manage to get knocked down time and time again, just to pick themselves up, brush themselves off, and carry on just as cheerfully as before? Rus and Blue, at least. Edge didn’t really do cheerful.
