Summary: Geno does not approve.

Death Manor had many rooms. Most were barren, devoid of even the most basic furnishings, decorations, and amenities; Only five received any use out of the numerous empty spaces: Reaper and Geno's bedroom, their son's bedroom, the kitchen, and a living room. The final fifth room was different than the others. It served as the elder death god's private space, somewhere he could visit between family time and work.

The room was no bigger than a pantry or a walk-in closet, and its walls featured black wallpaper and elaborate silver candle sconces. Flames flickered along the wicks of the white candles placed on them. Their heat slowly melted away the wax, filling the air with the sweet scents of cinnamon rolls and cupcakes. (Reaper would neither confirm nor deny tasting them.)

In the warm yellow-orange light's glow, positioned in the far back of the room, laid a dark wooden pedestal adorned by polished coin-shaped metals and glittering jewels. A thick ring-like object covered in green and white fuzz sat atop a silken pillow in the very center of the platform.

Reaper gazed upon it with adoration etched on his face as he pulled a few new shiny trinkets out of his inventory, prepared to add them to the display. The door creaked open behind him before he could place them, causing him to startle and lose his grip on the items.

They gave a clink-clink as they dropped to the floor while the raven-winged skeleton turned around.

Geno stood beyond the doorway, a scowl set on his skull. He wore several foreboding articles in addition to his usual garb: a dust mask (which was currently pulled down), an apron with pockets (each occupied by some form of cleaning supplies), and plastic gloves.

"You are not worshiping a doughnut." The Aftertale Sans said firmly.

Reaper gasped, "How could anyone not want to worship such a perfect-"

His husband slipped past him and approached the pedestal, sneering at it.

"It's stars only knows how old, and there's mold all over it!" Geno declared, wrinkling his nasal cavity in disgust at the sickly-colored fluffy substance sprawling onto the pillow. He gingerly lifted the doughnut, displacing a few coins/gems, and held it at arm's length to the best of his ability in the small space- certainly none too thrilled about the thought of getting it too close to himself. "Either you're throwing it out, or I am."

"But Geno!" Reaper whined, drawing out his lover's name. His non-existent eyelights darted between the bloody glitch and the moldy pastry, phalanges twitching at his side, hesitant to snatch it from his husband's hands.

Geno stared at him, unfazed and unamused.

The death god's wings drooped, matching the pitiful, pleading expression he aimed at the other.

The Aftertale Sans rolled his eyelights. "If that look worked in me, I would have let you purchase that landfill in Underfell."

He huffed before turning and slipping out of the room- taking Reaper's illustrious doughnut with him.

"Farewell, my beautiful." The raven-winged skeleton murmured, tears gathering in his eye sockets as he watched it get taken further and further away.

They slowly slid down his cheeks when the crackling roar of a Gaster Blaster firing sounded in the distance.

His husband must have known he planned on digging through the trash for it later.