A/N: Thank you all so much for 3K reads!!! I'm sure you just wanna read the chapter, so I'll finish up here. Large apology A/N is at the end.

You sat behind your camera, watching the  monitor rather than Mettaton's actual face.  He was such a larger than life person-er monster- but it especially struck you while he was performing. Even though it was for a  small audience, he put his entire heart into it. His smile could make entire crowds swoon under him, and his  voice somehow dropped deeper. You weren't complaining about any of this. It was rather entertaining and enjoyable, getting to see him transform into such an amazing performer. If he wasn't a monster, he'd probably be a star by now. Still, he had only been putting videos out there for a little under three weeks. He had begun only a few days after he came to the surface. You hadn't given up hope yet, and were urging Mettaton to stay determined.

You wondered how much longer he'd go on recording. You felt that if you didn't eat soon, you would  perish. Mettaton, of course, did not seem to be sympathizing with you in the least. He was just going on and on and on about- something. What exactly was he saying anyway? You'd tuned out for so long that you had no idea what this video was about anymore. You took out your phone and checked the time. How much longer could he go on like this, anyways?

"...See you in the next one! Toodles, lovelies!"

"FINALLY!" you sighed, mimicking his usual dramatic style.

"Is it really that bad to watch me? Come on now, beautiful, you know that I'm entertaining," he said, walking nearer to you.

"Mhmm," you once again stopped paying attention as you checked your camcorder and made sure you had gotten the footage. Once you had double checked that you didn't just waste almost an hour recording him, you slapped it closed and looked up.

"Well then, its just about six, and, unlike you, Frisk and I must eat," you told him and stood from your chair.

"Well that's wonderful! I'll whip something up for you!"

"Wait!" you were quick to intervene, "Maybe we should go out tonight for dinner? After all I have barely anything left here, I haven't been able to go to the store."

"That's fine, I'll be able to make do-"

"Really, don't go through the trouble. Please. I'd hate for you to have to cook for us. Besides, its been months since I treated myself."

You didn't actually want to spend the extra money, but you were too lazy to make a meal for yourself tonight, and you definitely did NOT want Mettaton cooking again. He first cooked for you about two weeks back, and it was a complete disaster. After scraping the sequins off of the concoction that he called a "glamburger" you didn't hesitate to take a bite. However, Mettaton must not have known that humans should not ingest certain things. Certain things being a hamburger patty filled with glitter glue.

You thanked your lucky stars that it was nontoxic, but you still became horribly ill. That was the last time that you would let someone without taste buds cook for you, or someone who bedazzles everything he touches. So, that's why you were not very eager to experience another nightmare like that one again.

Reluctantly, Mettaton agreed, so long as he came with you. You wondered why he even worried that you would leave him behind. He was like a puppy sometimes, always going wherever you went. If you were there, you had better believe he would be right there with you. You expected he just liked having a friend around to explain humanity to him.  You didn't really mind him doing it, so long as he didn't try to follow you to work again. Besides, you hardly left your home, so it was rare that he was exposed to the public. In fact, you were fairly certain that this was only the second time that he'd gone out. 

"Yeah, yeah. Of course you're coming with me. It's not like I could trust you on your own here," you jested, "Just let me snag Frisk then."

She was sitting on her bed, a math worksheet in front of her. It had only three problems from what you could tell, and she was pretty bright, so why she had such a look of consternation on her face was far beyond you. 

"Having trouble?" you asked gently, stroking through her hair again. It used to be much longer, but she had decided that she wanted it short a couple years ago, and got it cut to her chin. You had been the one to take her, not your father. You didn't think that he should bring her, due to... circumstances. 

Frisk kept her head down and didn't respond at first. Then, slowly, she looked up at you with her hands covering her nose. She pointed at the tissue box on her bedside stand and you handed it to her, confused. When she moved her hand away from her nose, they were covered with sticky red.  Your eyes widened, but you stayed still in your place. Never before had you handled a nosebleed, and you were in no way aware of how to staunch it. Surprisingly, Frisk seemed to have a pretty good handle on what she was doing, calmly reaching for new tissues and discarding the bloody ones. This must have happened to her before, you thought to yourself. Just discarding and grabbing, discarding and grabbing without missing a single beat. Thinking on it, she must have gotten injured many times in the underground. A nosebleed is probably nothing to her anymore.

Before long, the whole ordeal was over, and you brought her to the bathroom to clean up her face and hands. Even though you knew the answer, you asked if she was okay. And even though you would go either way, you asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner. Both were answered in the affirmative. She happily scampered downstairs, and all was forgotten.

It was pleasantly warm, so you opted to walk to a diner a few blocks away from your house. You figured that you'd might as well enjoy the last few days of the crisp autumn air before the bite of winter came with all of its brutality. Besides, afterwards you would be able to walk off all of the calories you gained on dessert. Also, Mettaton was still terrified of cars. 

You arrived at your destination hand in hand with Frisk half an hour later, Mettaton complaining about how scuffed his boots were getting and how he would have to ask Dr. Alphys to fix it for him. 

You responded by asking him to kindly shut up.

He huffed and pouted, even go so far as to stick out his bottom lip. You mentally laughed at how much of a diva he managed to be. Soon, the three of you had reached your destination.

It was a retro diner, and that was part of its charm. The booths, chairs, and table tops were a shimmery red. The walls were white aside from a strip of silver metal along the middle. You had always gained enjoyment from looking at the distorted faces the reflective metal created. The floors were the classic black and white checkered pattern that seemed to be in every diner.

The hostess standing in the front looked up and began greeting you, until she noticed Mettaton. Her sweet countenance melted and became mildly disgusted. At first you were clueless as to what had happened, but you soon remembered your traveling companion. Still, you ignored her obvious distaste, and requested seating for three.

"Ma'am, I don't think we can let that thing in," she replied with a biting inflection.

"I don't see why not. I'm a paying customer, so I have every right to bring my friend here," you responded, hoping that you were mistaken in hearing her tone.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I refuse to serve or to let anyone serve a table with one of them."

There was no mistaking what she had said then. Frisk stepped back, biting her thumb. She knew that you could be dangerous when you were angry.

And nothing made you more furious than blatant discrimination and hatred, especially against your friends and family. If looks could kill, the hostess would have been screaming for help at this moment.

Instead, you grit your teeth and said once more, "Table for three, please."

The hostess smirked cruelly. She looked you dead in the eyes and said, "No."

You were ready to reach over that counter and slap her. You stepped forward, about to do so. Your right hand was grabbed and pulled back. You assumed that Frisk had done this, with her being the pacifist that she is.

You had to stay calm, you had to stay calm. Calm. You took a deep breath and demanded to be seated again. The hostess asked why she should do that.

Scratch the slapping idea, you were going to strangle this woman. However, a press to your hand reminded you to keep your emotions in. You squeezed back, and slowly you relaxed. You waited a few heartbeats before making your next move.

"I could always just speak with the manager..." you mentioned. The hostess smirked again, but glanced behind you at Frisk. Something spurred her into action and she busied herself with retrieving menus and checking which tables were open.

As you stepped back, indignant tears pricked the back of your eyes. You took a shaky breath.

I will not cry, I am better than that, I am stronger than that.

You glanced down at your hand, which was entwined with Mettaton's. So it had been him that held you back and kept you from going psycho on that lady. You smiled slightly, you liked the feeling of his hand around your own.

Apparently feeling that the immediate danger had passed, Mettaton began to release your hand. You tightened your grip, for some reason you didn't want him to let go. It gave you comfort that he was right there, keeping you on the ground.

"Alright, just this way," the hostess said,walking off. You followed the hostess.

He didn't let go.

You looked up at his face, and whispered, "Thank you."

You could tell he heard because his lips parted into a small smile. He held your hand tighter and replied in an equally soft tone, "Anything for you, darling."

It was odd how soft his hand was, even though it would appear to be made of metal, like the rest of him. You wondered what else on him was soft. His legs maybe? No, they were far too inhuman. Perhaps his face? That was likely, how else could he make such delicately exaggerated expressions-

You realized your thoughts and silenced your wandering mind. This was just going to happen every time you touched him, wasn't it.  This scientific curiosity was frankly quite creepy. You reminded yourself that if someone was thinking those same thoughts about you, obtaining a restraining order would be the first thing you did.

The hostess set the booth that the three of you had arrived at. Frisk claimed the spot next to you, and Mettaton sat across. You were sorry to lose the gentle feeling of his hand. Drink orders were taken and the small table was left alone. Frisk colored her menu happily, bouncing in her seat. You had to stop her from doing this after receiving some rather dirty looks from the couple behind you.

Some small talk of no importance was exchanged. Mundane, everyday things that never really seemed to change. You didn't mind that at all. As long as Frisk was with you, all was right with the world.

Your drinks came, you and Frisk ordered dinner.  That came out just as quick and you hungrily devoured it. It made you slightly uncomfortable that Mettaton wasn't eating anything. You were about to offer him a few fries, but quickly caught yourself.

Crisis averted, you thought to yourself. It would have been extremely embarrassing if you had asked him.

Frisk announced that she had to use the restroom and sauntered away before you could stop her.

"Does that girl ever not need to pee?" you mumbled to yourself. Mettaton chuckled at you.

"Anyway, Glitterbot, if you don't mind my asking, why did you do that earlier?"

"I don't recall that you protested, darling," he smirked.

"I know I didn't. I actually didn't mind. Just curious to know the reasoning," you responded, taking a bite of your (F/F).

"Maybe I just wanted to comfort a friend," he smiled, "I was certain that you would attempt murder if you weren't stopped."

You nodded and wiped your mouth. For some reason his answer upset you. 'Just wanted to comfort a friend.' Wait, no. Why should it? That was all you were. It was a perfectly good answer. Nothing about it should be upsetting.

"Why didn't you want me to let go?" he asked, placing his chin on his hands as he looked you dead in the eyes.

Why had you wanted him to do it? You were not quite sure yourself. It didn't make sense, now that you thought back to it.

"Maybe I just needed a friend to comfort me," you offered, aiming the answer more to yourself. He kept smiling in silence, but his look told you that he wasn't believing it.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the situation, you took another large bite. You wished that he would stop looking at you like that. It made you uncomfortable. This whole dinner was making you uncomfortable. You took a sip of (F/D) and swallowed in silence.

He chuckled and removed his glove before reaching to your face and gently wiping the corner of your mouth. You tensed at first, but then you unknowingly leaned into his touch.

You became aware of your actions and jolted your head.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should've asked if you were okay with that," he told you, pulling his hand away and leaning back.

"No, I mean yes,  I mean, gah, it's fine," your mouth had apparently lost the will to speak sentences.

He smiled and put the glove back on his hand. Damn, there was something wrong with you today. You seemed to be  forgetting how to function like a normal human. Normal people never hold their friend's hand- especially if that friend is a male. Normal people don't stutter over every word and change the wording of their sentences three times. Nothing about you was normal right now, you realized. The most normal thing that you could do right now was eat. Just bring the food from the plate  to your mouth. Chew, chew, chew, now swallow.

He was still looking. It was putting too much pressure on you, this constant staring. You just wanted to peacefully exist, without the pressure of doing so perfectly.

Once again, he reached out. Unsure of why, you looked him in the eye and raised your brows (or single eyebrow if you are talented enough to do so). He stopped halfway and withdrew, shaking his head slightly. The ghost of his fingers remained on the corner of your mouth.

As Frisk resumed her place, you could hear the distinct whirr of a fan.

~~~~~~~~

You walked back home, the stars twinkling above you in the inky black sky. You took a deep breath, the night air had always been relaxing to you. It was only a short walk, and so you didn't mind the chill. Frisk was happily skipping along, and you regretted that ice cream you had ordered for her. She was on a serious sugar high, mumbling some song about wrong numbers to herself over and over and over and over. It was very out of character for her to act like that. As you walked side by side with Mettaton, you let your hand brush against his own. He gave no sign that he minded this action, and so you didn't stop.

There must be something wrong with you. You wanted the feeling of his hand again. That was creepy. You pretended that you had done nothing weird and folded your hands together.

Everyone's emotions had been messed up today. Frisk cried earlier, you were ready to slap a woman, and whatever  Mettaton had  been doing was going on. And for some reason, you did not mind it in the least. You liked holding his hand, you liked his touch.

Stealthily you glanced up to look at him, to see the shining black hair and his delicate expressions. His eyes darted away from you.

"What is this all about?" you questioned yourself quietly. You pressed your hands to your face and pushed them back through your hair. Everything about the last few hours confused you exceedingly. Why does the world never work with you?

You dropped your hands to your sides again. His index finger subtly curled around your own, and you wanted to pull away. Not because it made you uncomfortable. No, you wanted to pull away because you were scared of what it could mean.

It means nothing, you told yourself, nothing at all.

You presently came upon your house. Sleep would erase your thoughts. You would dream of nothing but (OTP). Unlocking the door, you ushered the other two in. He didn't let go. Why?

"Alright, it's late, so why don't you head up to shower, Frisk. You've got school tomorrow," you reminded her. She groaned, but complied nonetheless. You probably would have made her do it anyway.

"I'll head up to charge then, beautiful," Mettaton began, moving to follow her.

You nodded silently and dropped his hand. He strutted away, but something told you not to let him leave. You needed to know.

"Hey, Glitterbot, wait a second," you called him. He stopped and turned around, returning to you. He stood close to you, too close. He towered over you, and you had to crane your neck to look up at him.

"Yes? What is it?" He asked.

"I, um, I just wanted to ask you," you took a moment to gather your thoughts together, "What is it with you today? Why are you acting so strange?"

He chuckled slightly and smiled a smile that could bring any person to their knees, "What do you mean? I don't see anything so strange about how I'm acting."

Don't look him in the eye, don't-

You looked.

Crap.

He was challenging you. Challenging you to ask more. He liked seeing you like this, you could tell. You were utterly confused by him.

"Why did you hold my hand? Why did you touch my face and let me lean into you? Why won't you stop?" You demanded, hoping that you weren't sounding desperate.

"What do you want me to say? I don't quite know myself," he responded, shrugging.

You inwardly sighed. You were in no better a place than before.

"Okay then," you breathed.

"Maybe," he said, "Maybe I just wanted to comfort you. That little altercation with that woman upset you, and I didn't want my darling (Y/N) to be upset."

"Your? I'm not 'your (Y/N),'" you protested.

His?

Mettaton smiled again. He needed to stop doing these things. He reached forward and captured a strand of your hair in between his index and middle fingers. You breathed deeply, anticipating the next move.

He brushed it back behind your ear, his thumb moving over your cheek as he did so.

"Why did you do that?" you asked him.

"Because I wanted to," he replied simply. He brushed his hand over your hair again, bringing his hand down to your chin.

"Good night, my darling," he told you. He removed his touch and walked away. You could still feel the tickle of his glove.

"'Night, Mettaton."

Must be the full moon, you thought, looking out the window.

A/N: Okay so you all have every reason in this world to hate me. I haven't updated in months, and I come out with this chapter. I put a little bit of fluff in this one to try and make up for that, so I hope that it isn't moving too fast. Definitely my favorite chapter to write so far. Okay, that's all. Have a fabulous day, darlings!!!