“I can't take you anywhere,” you complained as you walked through your front door,your arms loaded with bags of store bought groceries.

“What do you mean, darling? I'm delightful company!” Mettaton argued as he followed you in, carrying far more than you did. You were lucky that your roommate was a robot.

As you struggled to set everything down without breaking it, you responded, “You literally offered an autograph to the cashier!”

“Well, they obviously wanted one. Did you see the way they were staring?”

“That's because you're hot pink, six foot whatever, and a mcfreaking robot,” you exclaimed, laughing slightly at his obliviousness. You opened the fridge for Frisk so she could put the milk inside as you laughed at Mettaton's shocked expression.

“Please, beautiful, you know you love me.”

You were completely certain that your heart skipped one, if not more beats. You didn't, you didn't love him, right? And that was something friends always say to each other, so he was joking. He had to be. After a second, you shot back with, “Eh, you're pushing it a bit, Glitterbot. I'd say it's more toleration than anything. I tolerate you.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Thanks. I tolerate you, too.”

“Now you're getting it,” you joked in an encouraging tone, “Now help out a bit. Earn your stay or I'll kick you and your legs out of here.”

“I was not built for this,” he grumbled, begrudgingly helping you.

“Well then, what were you…” You noticed a familiar figure that you had neglected to notice before on the sofa and trailed off.

Frisk noticed your drifting attention and followed your gaze, exclaiming, “Papa!”

Mettaton was completely forgotten, as was the task at hand, and you rushed over to your father, who was now standing and laughing about your surprise.

He lifted Frisk into the air and you approached, more confused than anything.

“Dad, what are you, why are you here?” He set Frisk down on her feet again with a beam.

“Why is Frisk here? She's been gone for so long, unless…” He trailed off, looking at you.

“No, she's only been here for a month or so,” you defended, giving him a brief hug, “Really, why are you here?” You could tell it. He wasn't there for Frisk, but now he wanted her again. He had a right to after all, he was her father. But still, you weren't ready to give her up. Not yet.

“I just wanted to surprise you. Can't I visit my,” he stopped abruptly, “Who's that?” He pointed at Mettaton, still standing apart from you.

Even without looking, you could tell that he was about to launch into his grand introduction, and struggled to force the amused grin off of your face. Your father gave you a look as Mettaton spoke. You ignored him.

When it seemed as though Mettaton was going on a little too excessively, you cut him off to say, “That's Mettaton.”

“He's our friend,” Frisk put in.

“Something seems a little off about him,” your father speculated.

“He's a,” you couldn't bring yourself to say the word. It seemed wrong. “He's from the underground.”

“I can speak for myself, darling,” Mettaton said, sounding slightly annoyed as he approached you.

“As you so helpfully demonstrated,” you quipped, ignoring his “hmph” and turning your attention back to your father. “I guess we should get you all caught up, huh?”

“As long as it's a good story,” your father grinned, seating himself once more on the couch.

_________________________________________

It was a good story. A story that Frisk had told you many times before, but good nonetheless. Mettaton joined in when he made his entrance into the plot. He winked slyly at you as he recounted his transformation into the EX form, tossing in a very helpful, “Ohh yes!”

You snorted and rolled your eyes at him, and he sent a flirtatious smile in your direction. Once again, you felt that odd longing to have that smile against you. Maybe that was just going to be a thing now, considering  what had happened between the two of you. Of course you knew what that implied, but you weren’t ready to acknowledge it. You were simply too scared, too oblivious, too busy pretending that there wasn’t anything between you.

What a web you had caught yourself in.

Mettaton, apparently, was desperate for attention, as he insisted that he and Frisk recreate the final battle they had. Your father sent you a questioning glance, and there really was nothing you could do but shrug awkwardly. If nothing else, it would be entertaining to watch this glorified pose-off. Except, you were growing increasingly uncomfortable in your seat while he casted obscene faces at you when nobody else was watching. At least, you hoped that nobody else was watching. It would be just a little too weird if your father or sister caught him doing it. You pulled your knees to your chest and laughed, burying your face into your palms as a precaution against possible blushing. Just in case.

As he depicted the moment when his battery died, he dramatically collapsed onto the couch, nearly crushing you. You were lucky that you screeched and moved over when you did, or you would be a human pancake.

“Well, darling?” He looked down at you with a hopeful grin.

You rewarded him with a small round of applause. “Absolutely fabulous, darling,” you mimicked him, dropping your voice far lower than it normally was in parody of his own. He grinned brighter and reached an arm out to pull you against his side as Frisk continued on to the point when she learned the full story of the monsters. She paused for a moment when she reached the part of the tale where she encountered King Asgore, as if deciding what to say. It was barely a moment, but you picked up on it.

It didn’t appear that anyone else noticed. Perhaps it was nothing. It probably was nothing and you were just overly suspicious. Not much longer after that, her story was over, and she bowed deeply while you, your father, and Mettaton applauded and cheered playfully. Frisk beamed as your father expressed his pride in her for what she had done. You watched them interact, not quite knowing why your heart felt heavy. Your smile dissipated, and you were suddenly somber.

She was so bright and happy and you wished that you could keep her like that forever. You never wanted to lose that innocent face, you never wanted to see her alone or scared or in danger and you just had an overwhelming need to protect her. Your father loved her just as much as you did, you knew that. He loved her and he wanted to give her everything in the world, just like you did. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even give her a fraction of that. On the other hand, you could. You were certain that Frisk would be better off with you. Even if your father begged to have her back, you couldn’t let him. You were what was best for her.

“Sweetheart?” Your head snapped back to Mettaton who was watching you concernedly as he continued, “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m good. Why?”

“No reason,” he responded, now regaining his typical expression, “I just wanted to get your attention.”

“I see.” He was close to you. Experimentally, you reached up to hold a piece of his hair, twisting it around your finger.

“Having fun?” He asked sarcastically.

“Yup,” you answered simply. You released the single lock of synthetic hair and brushed your fingers through the rest of it briefly. He grinned and rolled his eyes before quickly kissing your forehead. Heat momentarily flooded your face, and you turned back to Frisk to hide your reaction from him. Except Frisk was gaping at you. And your father was gaping at you.

You tried to become the chair.

You did not become the chair.

That was mainly because Mettaton was still refusing to let go of you and his odd robot arms were very strong, so you weren't going anywhere. The best you could do was turn away and bury, or semi-bury, your face in the cushions, laughing at yourself because oh my goodness they saw Mettaton kiss you and this just happened already this morning.

Luck really wasn't on your side today.

“So,” your father spoke up after way too long, “Can someone explain what's going on?”

You mumbled a response into the couch cushion. They couldn't hear. Of course they couldn't hear.Begrudgingly, you faced them again and uttered the excuse that fooled nobody, including yourself.

“We’re just friends.”

You didn't know why you'd thought it would work. It never worked. But they stopped asking for the moment, and busied themselves with setting up some sort of game that they wanted to play. You tried to gently shove Mettaton in order to express your frustration, but he probably couldn't feel and/or appreciate your attempt. Pity.

Frisk cemented herself on the couch, between your father and yourself, and forcing you to move dangerously close to Mettaton, almost on top of him. What did it take to get your family to respect that this was a strictly friendly relationship?

“It's way too crowded on here,” you remarked, standing and moving to the armchair, hoping that your face wasn't as flushed as it felt.

For a while, it was just like that, the four of you playing video games and talking to each other. It was an odd little family that had been formed, but a family nonetheless. You were able to ignore the fact that your father would definitely want to bring Frisk back home, and you could pretend that you weren’t feeling things that you shouldn't for a certain robot.

Long story short, it was a nice day.
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A/N: So, uh, part one of a two part Valentine's thing? Cause I'm sure I'm not the only one feeling particularly lonely today. So yeah, have two updates worth of Mettaton for the good of your soul.

Song: Far too Young to Die by Panic! At The Disco

My current P!ATD obsession. Basically, I love Panic, but I'll just randomly suddenly latch on to a particular song by them and never. Stop. Playing. It. Idk why, but hey, every Panic song is a hecking bop anyways