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Entry tags:
Nighty Night
Title: Nighty Night
Fandom: Undertale
Character(s): Sans, Frisk, Papyrus
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 500
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Frisk is tired, and tired people can say funny things.
Notes: By request!
Frisk’s tired. Sans sees it in the droop of their eyelids, hears it in the yawns they try to stifle every few minutes. It’s not even subtle anymore. They need to go to bed before they pass out on the couch.
Their sofa is more comfortable than the one in Sans’ old house, but still not as good as an actual bed, which Frisk has.
He looks over to his brother, on the other side of the couch. Papyrus is not going to be of much help here. Papyrus does sleep, but he needs much less of it than humans do, and he hasn’t yet been convinced that Frisk can’t just run on four hours of sleep like he can. The best Sans has been able to do is get him to lower the volume when Frisk is already asleep. That’s a lot, for Papyrus.
So it’s up to him.
“Kid,” he says, nudging Frisk in the shoulder. They blink at him a few times. “Time to hit the sack.”
“I’m not tired,” they say, yawning again as soon as they finish the last word.
“And I’ve got a personal line of hair products to sell you. C’mon, you’re half asleep already.” Sans nudges them again.
Frisk frowns, nearly a pout. “But, big bro…”
“No buts, ki...d...” Sans trails off.
Papyrus chooses this moment to exclaim, too loudly for this late at night, “If Sans is ‘big bro’ then, obviously, I must be your brother too! That’s how that works! Right?”
“Did I say that? Okay,” Frisk says, after a moment. “You’re big bro too.”
Papyrus frowns. “But I don’t want to be number two, I want to be number one!”
Frisk chuckles. “You’re tied.”
“Technically I met them first, so I should get number one,” says Sans.
“Tied,” Frisk repeats, shooting Sans an extremely weak glare. “No arguments.”
Sans holds his hands up. “No arguments. Right, Papyrus?”
“No arguments,” says Papyrus, a bit more reluctantly. “But this means we can go do brother things, right? We’ll create puzzles together! I have a set of spikes just waiting to be installed-”
“How about you do all that cool stuff in the morning?” asks Sans, nodding his head towards Frisk, who keeps jerking themself awake. “You don’t want to be making puzzles when you’re about to pass out. It’s not safe.”
“Of course not! Safety is always my number one concern when it comes to deadly spikes,” Papyrus says, offended. He looks to Frisk, and his expression softens. “But you do seem particularly tired. Never worry, for I, your magnificent older brother, will carry you to your bed!”
Frisk makes a few token protests, but it’s futile: Papyrus lifts them up and carries them away toward their own room. Sans relaxes a little more on the couch, relieved.
Frisk’s too big for him to carry now without the help of turning them blue, anyway. And it seems like a waste to use his magic just to give someone a bedtime.
Fandom: Undertale
Character(s): Sans, Frisk, Papyrus
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 500
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: Frisk is tired, and tired people can say funny things.
Notes: By request!
Frisk’s tired. Sans sees it in the droop of their eyelids, hears it in the yawns they try to stifle every few minutes. It’s not even subtle anymore. They need to go to bed before they pass out on the couch.
Their sofa is more comfortable than the one in Sans’ old house, but still not as good as an actual bed, which Frisk has.
He looks over to his brother, on the other side of the couch. Papyrus is not going to be of much help here. Papyrus does sleep, but he needs much less of it than humans do, and he hasn’t yet been convinced that Frisk can’t just run on four hours of sleep like he can. The best Sans has been able to do is get him to lower the volume when Frisk is already asleep. That’s a lot, for Papyrus.
So it’s up to him.
“Kid,” he says, nudging Frisk in the shoulder. They blink at him a few times. “Time to hit the sack.”
“I’m not tired,” they say, yawning again as soon as they finish the last word.
“And I’ve got a personal line of hair products to sell you. C’mon, you’re half asleep already.” Sans nudges them again.
Frisk frowns, nearly a pout. “But, big bro…”
“No buts, ki...d...” Sans trails off.
Papyrus chooses this moment to exclaim, too loudly for this late at night, “If Sans is ‘big bro’ then, obviously, I must be your brother too! That’s how that works! Right?”
“Did I say that? Okay,” Frisk says, after a moment. “You’re big bro too.”
Papyrus frowns. “But I don’t want to be number two, I want to be number one!”
Frisk chuckles. “You’re tied.”
“Technically I met them first, so I should get number one,” says Sans.
“Tied,” Frisk repeats, shooting Sans an extremely weak glare. “No arguments.”
Sans holds his hands up. “No arguments. Right, Papyrus?”
“No arguments,” says Papyrus, a bit more reluctantly. “But this means we can go do brother things, right? We’ll create puzzles together! I have a set of spikes just waiting to be installed-”
“How about you do all that cool stuff in the morning?” asks Sans, nodding his head towards Frisk, who keeps jerking themself awake. “You don’t want to be making puzzles when you’re about to pass out. It’s not safe.”
“Of course not! Safety is always my number one concern when it comes to deadly spikes,” Papyrus says, offended. He looks to Frisk, and his expression softens. “But you do seem particularly tired. Never worry, for I, your magnificent older brother, will carry you to your bed!”
Frisk makes a few token protests, but it’s futile: Papyrus lifts them up and carries them away toward their own room. Sans relaxes a little more on the couch, relieved.
Frisk’s too big for him to carry now without the help of turning them blue, anyway. And it seems like a waste to use his magic just to give someone a bedtime.