Stretch's fingers fumbled inside his surprisingly dry pocket for his brass keys. His house came into sight, the lovely, two-story cabin in the quiet town of Sunnedout. His bro should be training with Alphys in Firerise, and, as the clock had indicated, he would have a whole afternoon dedicated to himself.
The celebrations lasted longer than he had estimated, and no doubt Blue was worried sick about him. Once they reunited in their living room, he would apologize, laugh it off with him, and call it a day. That's what always happened whenever Stretch conked out at Muffet's, anyway. His bro always understood, somehow, even if he was oblivious to RESETs and the numerous Genocide Routes.
(Speaking of Blueberry, Stretch had to check up on how he was doing; he seemed a little shaken in the aftermath of their stunning victory. That was completely normal: it was his first time experiencing the somber atmosphere of a real battle.)
Frustratingly enough, the keys were buried deep into his pockets and nowhere near the peripherals of his fingers. However, his phalanges hit a small cardboard box, and he heard the little tick of plastic instead of the familiar feel of cool metal on bone and the dull click that entailed.
Of course.
He shouldn't- his brother blew the top of his head off when he caught Stretch smoking in the living room, filling the place with a large cloud of smoke and the smell of nicotine and weed, and made him swear on their lives to never smoke within a meter of the house ever again.
On the other hand, his head hurt. They partied hard until sunrise, chugging pint after pint of various drinks and cocktails, and had found himself draped ungraciously over a plush, fuchsia armchair in the early hours of the morning, a rancid puddle of lumpy vomit on the floor. He wasn't the only one to regurgitate their 'stomach' contents, though, nor was he the sole being to curse their hangover to Hell and back.
The little 'cancer sticks', as the human liked to call them, would help take off the edge from his heap of worries and the cursed thumping.
That being said, the human's fall was due tomorrow.
Sighing, he flicked the box open, popped out a cigarette and struck the metal lighter on.
The familiar rush of nicotine slid into his senses, letting his concerns shed off of him like the skin of a snake, and his tense posture relaxed into an even deeper slouch. It fed his inner addict, the feeling grabbing and sucking away greedily at the allowance its host had deprived of for so long, inhaling the sweet, sweet taste.
Oh wow, the house suddenly seemed really big. Or maybe he was just getting closer to the front porch. The cig should probably take a permanent vacation under the warm ground. With a pinch of magic, it was literally buried six feet under- sadly, the same couldn't be said about his clothes. Smoke tended to cling and stay there, only obeying harsh scrubbing and long exposure to fresheners, something the underground was definitely short on.
As he ambled even closer to the demure residence, the skeleton thought about Blueberry. Would he find the resolution hidden within him to lift a finger to protect his brother, this time? Will the human devote their soul to mass murder again? No matter what, he would meet them once more to pass judgement, as always. Whatever happened in the last timeline had to be temporarily washed from his mind to condemn the human to the right consequences.
But he remembered everything.
The red-hot fury in him when the human- the monster smiled after a Pacifist Run, mocking his inability to do anything other than let them pass. All he desired at those moments was to snap their neck in two, kill them, for them to leave. Forever. The alcohol basting his bone marrow, sending him in enough of a haze to forget almost everything.
He wandered away from those spiky thoughts and basked in the fumes' remains.
Stars, he missed that rush of adrenaline in his bones. No wonder he breezed through at least a pack every battle in the Hall; consuming the drug through its gaseous form granted him just a little more time, a little more life, a little more stamina. That being said, the drawbacks cut off some of the boons, such as his bro's complete trust in Stretch, the sweat dripping into his eye sockets, nausea, the list goes on for a bit longer before morphing into pros.
He flipped open his cell phone: 3:06 PM. Two hours left. He could do something nice for his bro during that time, like picking up his sock or vacuuming the rock; he had forbidden him from leaving the AU after all, and for good reason, too. Based on Blueberry's reaction during the battle, he probably wasn't accustomed to being surrounded by so many strangers, so the party would've definitely overwhelmed his mind. Perhaps he could even buy or scavenge for taco ingredients...
Well, that didn't really matter at the moment, because his brother was standing at the front door, arms crossed, and a cold, blank expression he thought he would never ever see on such an innocent face.
It was a cause for concern right away; Blue never missed even a minute of training, the diligent little soldier, even though he probably knew that Alphys, the captain of the Royal Guard, hesitated on his admittance to a platoon, no matter his skill level or his stubbornness to remain.
But what startled him even more was the empty tone his bro employed when stating these five words: "Brother, I am disowning you."
"Bro? Where is this coming from? Are you even allowed to-"
"Don't 'bro' me, Papyrus, I was your legal guardian and older brother, so I have every right to do this."
"But I-"
"Shut. Up. I know, technically you can, too, but you still love me, don't you? Well, I don't- I can't. This is goodbye, Papyrus. Forever, as brothers."
A snap of his fingers, and Blue was gone.
Stretch stayed there in the dusty road of Sunnedout, unmoving, and shed a tear.
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Blue popped into the mansion's dim living room, and immediately doubled over with laughter after a solid minute of silence.
"You should've seen his face!"
All of the residents went up in cheers and laughter and loud whoops of joy, clapping the team's newest addition on the back, hugging, crying because they laughed way too much, followed by Killer hoisting Blue onto his shoulders.
"Finally!" he crowed, "I'm not the rookie anymore!"
"Yeah, but you'll always be the youngest," Geno snickered, whacking him upside the head.
"But that's not fair!"
"Life's not fair, so suck it up and grow a pair, all right?" he smacked Killer again.
"Ow! Do you want me to drop Blue or something?!"
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Annnnnnnnnd cut! Next chapter: Nightmare! :D
Stay safe!!!
(October 25, 2020)
Picture: https://wallpapercave.com/w/wp4953299
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Feeling Reborn
FanfictionError, the Forced God of Destruction, had always wanted a peaceful life. Unfortunately, with his role in the Multiverse, and Fate's control over his life, that wasn't possible. After a deadly battle with Ink and practically everyone who lived in th...
