I Don't Dance, I Perform ~DanceTale!Sans x Reader

~Chapter 8~

You couldn't help but giggle as Papyrus danced around the room, happily collecting ingredients for spaghetti, leaving you to start water for boiling and collect a skillet to prepare the meat. He had put on Latin music almost immediately, making you oddly comfortable. The tune seemed vaguely familiar, but didn't rehash any bad memories. Though, the monster never really did like Latin Dance, focusing more on quick, graceful, or jagged dancing. You opened a box of bowtie noodles, the most dapper of pasta, and started heat on the skillet.

"AH! I see you already know how to prepare spaghetti!" Papyrus praised. "Our combined efforts shall produce the most divine of cuisine."

You snickered as you removed a spatula from the drawers and cut open one end of the sausage. Papyrus seemed to freeze as he watched you begin work on seasoning the meat like what you were doing was some foreign language. You hummed as you cooked, mincing garlic and brandished oregano, salt and pepper as well.

"Human! I thought you could not dance!" Papyrus mused as he looked at you.

You flushed as you glanced down at the small cha-cha you were performing as you cha-chopped away. "I'm not dancing," you insisted. "I'm performing."

"Aw, I see. Continue on then human! I shall prepare the sauce!"

"Okay Papyrus, you do that."

You rolled your eyes as you planted your happy feet firmly. I can't let myself slip up like that. You scolded yourself mentally as you dumped the prepared meat and started to brown it.

A booming cry caused you to yelp as tomato soared through the air. You glanced back as you saw Papyrus smacking a pile that may once have been a tomato. "Papyrus! What're you doing?!" You gasped as he opened a jar of sparkles, applying them liberally to the paste.

"I am creating the sauce!" He cheered.

"Why are you adding sparkles?!"

"To make the sauce sparkle of course!"

"There's not even a sauce to sparkle Papyrus! You just destroyed the subject!"

He looked down at his sludge and examined it closely before gasping. "You're right! My glitter to food ratio is totally wrong! I need more glitter!"

"No!" You cried, smacking a hand to your head. Instead of lecturing him, having a feeling he wouldn't get the message, you smiled gently. "Here, why don't I show you how we do it surface style?" You offered.

"Oh! I'll get my brother! This will be a great learning experience!" He exclaimed.

"Fine," you sighed. "Just make sure you watch me carefully."

He retrieved Sans and sat him down in a chair as he sat on a stool, Frisk following not to far behind. You raised a brow in confusion as he gave off an air of excitement. He whispered something to Sans, something somewhat intriguing due to his reaction of interest, and you shrugged. It didn't matter now.

You turned and pulled your hair back with a faded ribbon you'd kept from your first pair of ballet slippers. An almost automated voice popped into your head as you did so. You equipped the faded ribbon.

You then washed your hands and turned down the heat on the meat and noodles. Your hand reached for the radio, cranking up the tune until it filled the entire house. Collecting a knife and more materials, you set to work for sauce.

Your blade moved quickly as you sautéed, minced, crushed, mixed and simmered the sauce. You spun around the kitchen, collecting spices and tools to fix the consistency of the sauce. At the same time you balled and cooked the meatballs while seasoning them with the four bases you'd already picked out. Your hands worked as quickly as your feet did, and before the song was over, so was the pasta. You collected three plate from the cabinet and plated mounds of pasta and meatballs before pouring the cherry red sauce over them. You held all three plates in hand as you turned around, looking expectantly at the three boys.