Who: Sans and Mettaton
Where: The Anime Room
When: 7/18
Rating: G-PG for fluff and two complete disasters, will warn for anything else.
Summary: Zombie events suck and Sans owes Mettaton a bag of off-brand chocolates. Sometimes you just gotta chill.
The Story:

You'd think Sans would be used to zombie events by now. They're always the same, no matter what flavor of zombies it happens to be--harrowing, hollowing, emotionally devastating. He got off mostly scot-free this time, since all the previous zombies he's met have been pretty damn keen on trying to gnaw his bones. But it's never really the zombies themselves, honestly--it's everyone else. Everything else.

Once the event is over, he takes a good twelve or so hours to sleep and not think about Wirt, or about talking zombies, or about anything.

And when he wakes up, the first thing that occurs to him, for some reason, is that he should go see Mettaton.

It's been weird lately, and not really in a bad way, but none of them have really talked about it since the snowstorm. The three of them did plenty talking that night anyway, and in some senses, maybe it just doesn't need to be said out loud. He can feel it either way when he looks for it, a thread as thin as spider silk wrapped around his soul, leading out in two directions. It's weird. It's weird, by any stretch of the imagination.

Papyrus is one thing, but he's not used to such a concrete connection, solid proof that someone actually cares about him. It's the sort of thing he can't deny, not even with all the self-loathing at his disposal, because it's right there.

So it shouldn't be that out of the ordinary, wanting to go see Mettaton, maybe talk to him. And yet he still finds himself looking for an excuse, because--you need an excuse. You can't just show up and impose yourself on someone's space without some kind of reason. Which is ridiculous, because he's never had a problem doing that to Papyrus or to Alphys. He's always been the sort to just sort of flop down in someone's general vicinity and be content with that--not bothering them, not in the way, just sort of there.

And he knows exactly why it feels different with Mettaton, but that's part of that solid proof thing that he's still trying not to look at too closely. Even if it's as solid as the rest of it.

Thankfully, an excuse is readily available. More than an excuse, an actual reason, sort of. Mettaton can probably use some nice downtime after that event too, right? Nothing like candy and a goofy movie, and maybe some alcohol, to lighten the mood.

So he shows up at Mettaton's door in the evening with a copy of Short Circuit, an off-brand bag of chocolate Hugs, and a bottle of whiskey in a paper bag. Just in case the weirdness gets weirder.

He knocks.

"hey metta, you in? i finally got that back-pay for ya."