Turn Me On [Mettaton X Reader]

Eighteen.

"(Y/N)... (Y/N) wake up, today's the big day, mon petit ami." Mettaton gently shook your shoulder, breaking you out of a dream that you forgot upon opening your eyes.

Slowly you forced yourself to sit up, "Please don't speak French." You mumbled.

Mettaton laughed, still lying flat on the bed. "But now's the last chance I'm going to get to call you that!"

You twisted around slightly so that you could make eye contact with him. "That doesn't matter. Your pronunciation is terrible."

Mettaton laughed again, but in your half-asleep state you could barely join him, only managing a smirk.

"Do you want to get up now or...?"

"May as well, mon petit dejuner."

"Please stop."

"Mon grand dejuner."

"I want a divorce and we aren't even married yet."

Mettaton pouted, and sat up. He had a little bit of a bedhead, but since he doesn't actually sleep it was still pretty much in place. Knowing him, though, he'd beg to differ. "You know you love me."

"That I do Met, that I do." You said, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek before leaving the bed. Mettaton left too, trying to assess the damage to his hair with one of his gloved hands.

"I'll go get a shower, then I'll drop you off at the base of Mount Ebott and I'll go to my parents."

"Sounds good." Mettaton headed down the stairs as you went into the bathroom. You felt strangely calm, which was far from what you'd imagine you'd feel on your wedding day. You didn't even feel excited, just oddly accepting that you were signing up to spend the rest of your life with a robot.

~~~~~

Why was Mettaton so nervous?

His mind kept wandering back to the discussion that him and Alphys had had the night before, and every time it did he seemed to get more and more anxious.

He wanted to run away.

What was it Shyren had called it again - cold feet? That was what Mettaton was experiencing, but years of crappy acting gigs and shows which didn't go quite to plan had prepared him to stay through anything and everything life had to throw at him.

Alphys had covered two things in that conversation. One of them was indeed gifts, the other one he didn't want you to find out about.

The gifts Alphys had suggested were nerve-wracking enough. He really needed to talk to you about them. But the other thing...

Mettaton didn't want to waste his time thinking about it. It wasn't important. He had spent his whole life working towards and doing that one thing, so what did it matter if he continued to do so? And besides, he'd get to live up on the surface.

Why was it so hard to keep it up now? Wasn't a life on the surface what he had always wanted?

In that moment, Mettaton wasn't too sure.

But as he heard you turn off the shower, he forced himself to put back on his usual friendly smile, and try to stop the panic that was edging its way throughout his body.

It didn't work, but he didn't let it show.

He spent the last few minutes before you came down the stairs going through a mental checklist.

The dress - already at Alphys'. Check.
Venue set up. Check.
Registrar hired. Check.
Paperwork filled out. Check.

"Ready?"