Author's Note 

 After almost 5 months on hiatus, WTSM is back! And just in time for Christmas/the holiday season! This is a gift from me, to all of you. It took me a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to get this thing done... and almost a month of hard work. Writer's block is a hard thing to deal with, lemme tell you. I was originally planning to update on the 8th. XD

But anyway! Here you all go! Thank you all for waiting so patiently. It may be a little bit rough (all that time off made me a bit rusty), but I hope it meets all of your expectations! 

Oh! One thing before I start, though. If you haven't already, I highly suggest you take a look at the oneshot booklet. (You can find that in my other works, obviously.)  There are a lot of chapters in there that I wrote myself, and they're basically chapters of WTSM that I just didn't add in here to conserve its length. If you haven't seen them already, you're missing... eh... a good 100 pages or so of story. While you probably don't HAVE to read it, it'll probably be referenced from here on out. (And who in their right mind would say no to extra Sans fluff?!) 

Now. Without any further ado...

~Sans' Perspective~

So. This is really happening.

I'm lying on my bed, numbly staring up at the ceiling. For the last few hours, thoughts had been chasing themselves through my head one after the other like rabid dogs. It's been a month. I've been dating the girl of my dreams for a whole month now. It... I'm still unsure how to feel about it. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's great! I love her so, so much, and I've been happier this last month than I've ever been. But at the same time... I know it's not gonna last. There's no way that this relationship can last much longer. Something's gonna happen. I know it is. It's just a matter of when. In this world, there's no such thing as a "happy ending." I've been through enough resets, and lived in more than enough timelines to know that.

I'm not allowed to be happy.

But... I'm not just going to throw this away.

(Y/N) deserves more than that.

Even if it's just for her... I'm going to try.

I sigh, my gaze unfocused as I continue to numbly stare up at the white-washed ceiling. It's... been a long time since I last thought about my situation. She's so distracting—it's been a while since I seriously thought about the resets, or thought about the fate of our future. Now though, something's coming that makes it impossible to ignore.

Our first date.

(Y/N) met with the rust bucket the other day about that... uh... "proposition" he offered her. The whole "sing at the resort and I'll pay for your date" thing.

I sigh explosively, my grip tightening around my phone. Its glowing screen casts a ghostly white light into the room around me, making my surroundings seem just as unreal as this situation. I bring the phone up again, dangling it in front of my face as I reread the messages for the umpteenth time.

Me: So, how'd the meeting go? It's over, right? (1 week ago)

BC (Buttercup): Yup. It's all over. Thank goodness. That guy... *Sigh*

Me: Hard, huh?

BC: Well... yeah, I guess. I mean, we struck a deal, and everything's worked out now, but geez. I had to wait a whole hour to actually start talking about it—he wouldn't shut up about how I'd boost his ratings. -_-

Me: Heh. That sounds like MTT, alright.

BC: And then he started talking about what I'd wear, whether or not I was okay with TV coverage... it's a mess. *Sigh.*

Me: So you... rejected his offer?

BC: ...

Me: C'mon, Buttercup. The suspense is killing me.

BC: It's a secret~

Me: Noooooooo!

BC: XD

Me: I wanna know! We've been dating for almost a month, and we haven't even gone on a date yet. Should I start planning something, or are we gonna let the rust bucket have his way?

BC: Okay, okay. I'll tell you—

Me: Thx!

BC: —IF you promise to play guitar for me sometime.

Me: ...Buttercup? C'mon. Don't do this to me.

BC: Promise~

Me: Buttercup...

BC: You were really good, and I really liked it! I wanna hear you play again. :3

Me: I wasn't that good...

BC: You were! But anyway. Promise, or I'll just have MTT spring it on you. He seems to have something planned, but I don't know what...

Me: Planned? Welp, that answers my question. He wouldn't be planning something if you didn't agree. Thanks, Buttercup~

BC: ...DARN IT!

Me: lol

BC: Saaaaans...

Me: If you really want me to play for you... I will. Eventually.

BC: Eventually? What does that mean, huh? *Puffs out cheeks.*

Me: It means exactly what you think it means. :3

BC: *Groans.* Alright, fiiiiine~

Me: *Chuckles.*

BC: So, anyway. Yes, I agreed. I'm gonna sing at the MTT resort in exchange for our date.

Me: I'm still not sure it's a good idea, but... alright.

BC: We also came up with a date. And before you can make it into a pun: NO NOT THE FRUIT. THE TIME/DAY THINGY.

Me: lol

BC: *Squirms*

Me: *Clears throat.* Date?

BC: Oh, y-yeah. Right. It's gonna be about a week from now. So uh... I dunno. Just be prepared.

Me: Prepared?

BC: ...Yeeeees???

Me: ???

BC: I dunno. It seems like a big deal, I guess? Aren't these kinds of things a big deal?

Me: Uh... you tell me, Buttercup.

BC: Sans, you know I don't have experience in this kinda thing.

Me: And... I do?

BC: Uh... maybe? Don't you?

Me: Well-uh... I've never actually dated anyone, but-uh I do have experience... in other areas...

BC: *Raises an eyebrow.*

Me: Nothing. Nothing at all.

BC: Sans~!

Me: C-crap. Where's the delete button?!

BC: Sans, does this have something to do with Bun-Bun~?

Me: Yes. I mean NO. I mean...

Me: NIGHT! GO TO SLEEP!

BC: It's only 6, Sansy~

Me: BYE!

BC: Alright, alright. Night, Sans. XD

BC: (We're gonna talk about this later, y'know!)

I chuckle a little at the last lines, but worry quickly hangs over me again. (Y/N) and the rust bucket agreed that we'd have our date a week after the meeting. It's... been a week. That means the date's tomorrow. Or... no, that's not right. I glance over at the clock I'd plugged in near the bed, and am not really surprised to see that its blue digital numbers are heralding the morning hours.

Today. It's today.

I take a moment to let that fact sink in, trying my best not to sigh. I had a whole week to get ready for this thing, but predictably, I've done absolutely nothing. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was tryin' my best to forget it was happening. I don't have any idea what I'm supposed to do. I know the resort's pretty fancy—am I supposed to be dressed up for this thing? When are we gonna meet? How's the whole singing thing gonna work? What is (Y/N) expecting outta this? I groan and roll over, frantically going through her old texts.

There's gotta be some kind of hint in here somewhere. Did she say anything about the date after that? I... don't think so.

All of our other texts are about normal things. I was so uncomfortable about the whole "date" idea that I never asked questions. It's just... too daunting. Me and (Y/N)? On a date?

What am I gonna do?!

I scroll back further, trying to find something, anything, that gives me a clue to what she wants from me. I don't wanna ask. I'm her boyfriend—aren't I supposed to just know this stuff? Isn't that how it works?

Suddenly, rapid footsteps sound in the hallway. My eyesockets widen at the sound, and I'm quick to turn my phone off and toss it onto the floor. Once I see that it's landed safely amid the socks, I'm quick to go completely still, and screw my eyesockets shut. I barely have time to steady my breathing before the door to my room bursts open, an excited "Nyeh heh heh" accompanying the flood of light from the hallway.

"BROTHER!" Paps exclaims, hurrying over to my bed. "GET UP, LAZY BONES! THERE'S NO TIME FOR SLEEPING IN TODAY!"

I make an exaggerated groan and crack my eyesockets open, pretending that he's just woken me up.

"Wha...? Bro?" I ask groggily. "What is it?"

Paps beams down at me, eyesockets sparkling with a... strangely unidentifiable emotion.

"TODAY IS A VERY IMPORTANT DAY, BROTHER!"

"Is it?" I ask, trying to hide a smile. "Why?"

Paps' smile fades, to be replaced by a look of disbelief.

"BROTHER! YOU HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN, HAVE YOU?!"

"Forgotten what?" I ask, playing along.

"YOUR DATE, YOU LAZY BONES! YOUR FIRST DATE WITH (Y/N)!" he exclaims, looking somewhat annoyed. "HOW COULD YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN SUCH AN IMPORTANT—"

"Relax, bro," I say, chuckling as I sit up. "I didn't forget. I was just messing with 'ya."

Paps blinks, and then lets out a long sigh, burying his face in one of his gloves.

"NOW ISN'T THE TIME FOR YOUR JAPES, SANS," he groans. "YOU DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME! YOU HAVE TO GET READY!"

The smile that had sneaked its way onto my face from teasing Paps disappears like mist in the sunshine, and I have to try my hardest not to let my stress show.

"Get ready?" I ask, trying to sound mischievous. "Why do I need to get ready? It's nothin' special, is it?"

"NOTHING SPECIAL?!" he screeches, throwing his hands into the air. He's so tall that he ends up hitting the ceiling, and winces at the contact. Then he sighs, facepalms again, and gives me the most serious look he can muster.

"This is really important, Sans," he says, voice lowered to a normal volume. "It's your first date! With (Y/N)! I know that you're a lazybones, but you need to make sure that it goes well!"

I agree with him completely—I'd just spent the entire night worrying over it, hadn't I? But I can't let Paps know that. As far as he's concerned, I never worry about anything. Heh. He'd be shocked if he suddenly learned that I worry about everything. So instead of panicking (which is what I want to do), I push my anxiety down again, and give Paps the biggest smile I can manage.

"You're right, Paps," I say cheerfully. "You have somethin' in mind?"

Maybe I can use this to my advantage. Paps' advice probably won't be very helpful, but it'll at least distract me from the disaster that I can sense looming on the horizon.

"YES, ACTUALLY!" he exclaims. He beams at me, and strikes a proud pose. "I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAPPEN TO BE AN EXPERT ON DATING!"

"Oh really?" I ask, grinning. "An expert, huh?"

"OF COURSE! I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED ONE DATE, AND I HAVE MEMORIEZED THAT DATING GUIDE THAT YOU GAVE ME!"

"Oh..."

I cringe, and try to resist the urge to go bury my face in a blanket. A few months ago, I found a strategy guide for one of those dating games in the dump. What're they called? Bishojo games? Whatever. The point is, I thought I'd give it to Paps as a joke, and tell him it was a dating guidebook.

...I underestimated how gullible my bro can be. He bought it hook, line, and sinker. Didn't even consider the idea that it was for a game. And so, whenever he needs advice on romance or relationships... that book is his go-to.

It was cute for a while, but... I think my little joke's about to backfire.

Right on cue, Papyrus pulls the book out from its place tucked beneath his scarf, and begins to frantically flip through its pages. Just looking at the cover is making me nauseous.

"Kiss Kiss Love Love: the Ultimate Game Guide," I read numbly. Wonderful. My love life is about to be turned into a game.

"AHA! YOU HAVE ALREADY ASKED HER ON THE DATE, RIGHT?" he asks, eyes sparkling.

"Yup," I say half-heartedly. "What now, oh dating expert?"

"THE ANSWER IS OBVIOUS!" he exclaims.

"It is—"

Without warning, Paps leans over and scoops me up with one hand, and snaps the book shut with the other.

"H-hey! Paps! What're you—"

"WHENEVER YOU GO ON A DATE, YOU MUST GET YOUR PARTNER A GIFT! EVERYONE KNOWS THAT!"

Paps stows me under his arm and hurries down the stairs, his excitement putting a larger-than-usual spring into his step.

"Paps! Paps, I can't leave the house like this!" I exclaim frantically. I've been wearing the same clothes for the last coupla days. The last thing I want is to run into (Y/N) looking like this—in a stained T-shirt and sweatpants, with dark rings under my eyesockets.

"NONSENSE, BROTHER! YOU LOOK FINE!"

"B-but—"

"TO THE DEPARTMENT STORE!"

"Paps!"

He completely ignores my protests, and instead kicks the door open. I sigh, resigning myself to my fate.

I mean, it's not such a bad thing, is it? I meant to get her something anyway. This won't be so bad, doin' it with Paps.

"Ah, the monster of the hour~" a voice purrs.

The moment that abrasive, robotic voice registers... I get an awful sinking feeling in my gut. When I look up, my fears are confirmed. An excessively showy, bright pink bucket of bolts is standing right outside my door, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Frisk is at his heels as he struts over towards us, and when he strikes an obnoxiously cocky pose, Frisk giggles and does the same.

"BROTHER, METTATON AND FRISK ARE COMING ALONG TO HELP! METTATON TOLD ME THAT YOU ARE IN DESPERATE NEED OF PROPER ATTIRE," Paps says happily. "AND QUITE FRANKLY, I AGREE. SO... TO THE DEPARTMENT STORE!"

"My treat," Mettaton purrs, winking at me.

...This is gonna be a long day.

"But first, we have to stop by the Bureau of Stars~"

"The... what?"

~Meanwhile~

~Your Perspective~

Ah, sleep. What a wonderful thing. You're completely knocked out, your chest rising and falling as you enjoy your first peaceful, dreamless sleep in a long time. Or rather... you were. Something woke you up. Something large and soft is on your shoulder, gently shaking you back and forth.

"My child, it is time to wake up."

You groan and turn over to face the voice, trying desperately to stifle your annoyance. Why did she have to wake you up?

"What time is it?" you ask groggily, cracking your eyes open. You squint in the direction of the clock on your nightstand, but instead find your line of sight blocked by a familiar purple dress.

"It is around seven in the morning, my child," Toriel says, chuckling gently. "And as I said, it is best that you wake up—you have some visitors."

You groan again, and pull your blanket over your head. Visitors be damned. You stayed up past midnight working on one of your pet projects, and are now so exhausted that you feel like a giant brick. Toriel chuckles again, and carefully peels back the blankets.

"It seems important," she says firmly. "You had best go meet them."

You give a resigned sigh, and slowly sit up, rubbing tiredly at your eyes.

"Fine..." you mutter.

Toriel turns away and heads towards the bedroom door. She hesitates before she leaves, and takes a moment to give you a bright smile.

"You have something important planned today, do you not?" she asks knowingly.

Something important? Do I...?

You stare blankly in Toriel's direction as you mull it over, your still-groggy brain trying desperately to wake itself up. Toriel gives you an amused smile as you continue to stare in her direction, and eventually rolls her eyes and decides to help you. (Why is it so hard to think in the mornings?!)
"Your date, my child. You have a date today."

With those words, your mind snaps to attention. Funny how just the mention of a date clears out the morning fog.

"Our date!" you exclaim. "How could I have forgotten something like that?!"

You hurriedly scramble to get out of bed, limbs flailing as your excitement pushes you into overdrive. Unfortunately for you, all you manage to accomplish is getting yourself tangled in blankets. You trip as you try to stand up, and land on the floor with a humiliating thump. You can hear Toriel trying to fight back giggles as you free yourself from your mutinous covers, and you give her a playfully angry look as she turns to leave the room.

"I will tell your friends that you will be out shortly," she says, voice still holding hints of her laughter.

"Thanks Toriel," you say. You watch the door swing shut, and then...

You can't help yourself. You shriek a little bit and do a strange kind of two step across the floor, unable to contain your excitement. A date. You have a date with Sans. I mean, sure. You guys have been a couple for a month now. But a date is just so... official. You can't help but have high hopes for it. What if this is the start of something greater for you? Oh, and the idea of seeing Sans all dressed up...

It's giving you those giddy feel-good shivers that we all crave.

Before you can even so much as look at your dresser, you cross over to a calendar that you'd taped up by your bed. Sure enough, today's date has been enthusiastically circled in bright blue pen. You squeal again and suddenly find yourself jumping up and down. Embarrassed at your own enthusiasm, you take a deep breath, and make an effort to calm down. When your giddiness levels have lowered to an acceptable level, you take a deep breath, and get dressed.

***

A few minutes later, you emerge from your room in your normal attire... but with an unusual spring to your step.

Only a few hours left~ you think, smiling idiotically. As nice as it is to smile, you fight to keep a straight face when you enter the living room. The last thing you want is to have a certain little sister tease you about it.

Wait. Come to think of it... where's Frisk? I don't see her.

Apart from Toriel, the room is completely empty.

"Hey Toriel—where's Frisk?" you ask, turning to your adoptive mother.

"Oh, she went out," Toriel says dismissively. You blink, confused. Toriel seems so nonchalant about it—it's strange, especially when she's so careful to keep track of where your little sister is.

"Where to?" you ask.

"I do not know, exactly."

You stare at the motherly monster for a moment, somewhat taken aback by her new uncaring attitude. When you see the corners of her mouth twitch, though, you begin to realize that there's something going on that you can't see.

"Oh yeah?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "She just walked off, huh?"

"No, she was... kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" you ask incredulously. You know she's joking—she's trying really hard to hide a smile—but it's so unlike her to joke about something so serious. Something majorly clandestine must be going on if she's trying so hard to distract you.

"Oh yes," she says sagely, eyes sparkling. "She was swept away by a particularly loud royal guardsman and his accomplice; a mechanical celebrity."

Oho. I see. Papyrus and Mettaton, huh? Yup. Something's definitely going on. And if my guess is right... then this probably has something to do with...

"Lemme guess," you say, smiling. "The captive is going to help prepare for a certain date, isn't she?"

Toriel smiles, but doesn't answer your question. Instead, she stands from her seat by the fire, and hurries over to you. She spins you towards the basement, and gently pushes you in that direction.

"H-hey!" you exclaim, surprised. "Wha—"

"You should not keep your visitors waiting," she says, chuckling as she cuts you off.

"But—"

"Go on," she says, nudging you towards the stairs again.

You resist for a little bit longer, but then give in and head towards the stairs.

"Fine," you sigh, trying (and failing) to hide a smile. "See you later, Toriel."

"Goodbye, my child. Have fun!"

You head into the basement, footsteps echoing against the purple stone beneath your feet. Normally, such a sound would be ominous—the kind of echo that you expect from creepy basements in horror movies. After living here for so long, though, you've grown used to it. In fact, you've come to like it. Each one of those echo-y footsteps is a step closer to Sans, after all.

...I'm stalling.

Indeed. Your thoughts had been a distractor, keeping you from pushing open the great door before you. But... why? You're not nervous or anything. You've been thinking about today for weeks—there's no way you'd be nervous. And even if it is a date, it's a date with Sans. You couldn't possibly be nervous about meeting up with Sans, after everything you've been through together. ...Right?

...I'm still stalling, you tell yourself. Come on. There's no reason to be so anxious. Let's just go! The date's not until tonight, anyway.

You hesitate for a few minutes longer, and then nod firmly and force the whole of your bodyweight against the door. At first, it doesn't budge. But then it slowly begins to move out of place, coaxed by the enormous effort that you pour into it. A cool wind streams into the room, tossing your clothes this way and that and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

Wait. Visitors? Who'd be visiting me? I don't think it's Sans, so...?

You're a little late to be curious. It isn't long until your visitors come into view—two monsters. One that's bright yellow, and the other that's a cool shade of blue.

"Th-there y-you a-are, (Y/N)!" a certain yellow dinosaur stutters. "W-we've b-been w-waiting f-for a-almost an h-hour! Wh-what t-took you s-so long?!"

"Yeah punk," her fishy girlfriend adds. "We come all this way, and you leave us out in the snow? What's the big idea?!"

You're so shocked by their appearances that you're not entirely sure what to say. Alphys is bundled up like she's in the middle of the Artic, layer after layer of coats making her look like a walking ball of cloth. At least three scarves are wrapped around her neck, and paired with a hat, gloves, and boots, you can barely see any of her scales. Her glasses are fogged over as well, obscuring part of her face, and making it hard to tell what she's thinking.

Next to her, Undyne is dressed much more normally, in a pair of jeans and a heavy jacket. That's not what sticks out to you, though. She's wearing bright red boots and gloves—a combination that's somehow reminiscent of Papyrus. She's wearing a red scarf, too...

Huh. Maybe she borrowed them?

Whatever the case, neither of them look accustomed to snow. Undyne seems uncomfortable, but compared to Alphys, she seems downright warm. The scientist looks completely miserable, sniffing enormously and wrapping her arms around herself. She's trembling so hard that you can almost imagine that the ground itself is shaking beneath her feet, and seeing her teeth chattering like that... You suddenly feel a little bit guilty about your dawdling, and you awkwardly shuffle your feet as you think of something to say.

"I'm sorry I took so long," you say apologetically, "but uh... couldn't you have waited inside? It's a lot warmer in there."

The two of them fall silent, looking at you incredulously.

"WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?!" Undyne roars suddenly, startling you. "Then Alphie wouldn't be so damn cold!"

"U-Undyne, i-it's a-alright," she stutters, words even more incoherent than usual. "I-I'm f-fine..."

"You're cold blooded, Alphys! You think waterfall is cold," Undyne protests, pulling Alphys close. "Here, let me warm you up."

Alphys' scales look a little bit more pink at the gesture, and she manages a smile through her still-chattering teeth.

"U-Undyne... Y-You're c-cold b-blooded t-too, y-you k-know..."

Undyne goes stiff, and then laughs awkwardly.

"But I'm still warmer than you are, right? Is that a thing in science?"

"W-Well n-no. B-but y-you s-seem m-more a-adapted, s-so..."

They continue to go back and forth, playfully bickering with one another. You find it cute, and so are content to listen to them for a while. Soon, though, you mind begins to wander again.

If the cold really bothers Alphys so much... what is she doing here?

You decide to wait for their conversation to abate before you ask them, but when they continue to talk as if you don't exist, getting more and more intimate with each other... You decide to step in. As cute as they are, you don't need to witness a make-out session.

"So, uh..." you start awkwardly, cutting into their conversation, "what're you guys doing here, anyway?"

"Oh, right!" Undyne says, giving you an unnervingly wide grin. "We're here to help you!"

"Help me?" you ask. You're suddenly getting a really, really bad feeling about this. From all the stories you've heard, Undyne's help is something of a double edged sword. You'd be lucky to get out unscathed. "U-uh... what kind of help do you mean, exactly?"

Alphys seems to want to answer, but her teeth are chattering so hard that she can hardly string two words together. Even so, though, you swear that she's giving you a grin worthy of an OTP ship...

"What, haven't you guessed yet?" Undyne asks, mirroring Alphys' grin. "You have a pretty fancy date tonight, right?"

"Yeah?" you ask, somewhat confused. "What about it?"

"And do you have a dress?"

"A dress? Well, no. But... why do I need one?" you ask, cocking your head. "It's just Sans. I guess I assumed that it wouldn't be... y'know..."

"Oh. My. God!" Undyne exclaims, teeth bared in her disbelief. "ALPHYS, ARE YOU HEARING THIS?!"

"U-Unbelievable," she pipes in, chuckling.

"You're going to the fanciest restaurant in the whole damn UNDERGROUND," Undyne continues, waving her hands erratically, "and you don't even have a DRESS?!"

"D-don't f-forget th-that sh-she'll b-be o-on l-live T-TV," Alphys adds.

"AND YOU'RE GOING TO BE SINGING ON LIVE. FREAKING. TV!" Undyne roars. She tosses her head back and rakes her fingers through her hair, the perfect picture of overbearing worry. "HOW CAN YOU NOT HAVE A DRESS?!"

"W-well," you mutter, pulling anxiously at your shirt. "I-I just didn't think it'd be necessary, and I don't really like dresses anyway, so—"

"Alphys, this is worse than I thought," Undyne exclaims, turning to her girlfriend. "It's a good thing we came! This chick is completely hopeless."

"Hey!" you exclaim. "I know I'm not all that fashion forward, but I wouldn't call myself hopeless—"

Before you can so much as finish your statement, Undyne scoops you up in Papyrus fashion, stowing you under her arm. You squeak in surprise, and try your hardest to keep your face from turning into a cherry.

"H-hey! Put me down!"

"Alphys, we need to get to the department store ASAP! You already called up Mettaton's designer, right?"

"Y-yeah. M-Mettaton t-told h-her w-we w-were c-coming. Sh-she's e-expecting u-us."

"THEN WHAT'RE WE WAITING FOR?! LET'S GO GET THIS GIRL A DRESS!"

Undyne scoops up Alphys in her other arm and spins around, then takes off at a dead sprint. Your eyes widen as the snowy scenery around you blurs, Undyne's wide strides making her move fast enough to ditch your stomach far, far behind you. Your jittery feeling eventually gets so bad that you have to screw your eyes shut in order to keep from getting nauseous.

How in the world can she run so fast?! you ask yourself. I guess those muscles really are good for more than just punching things—OH! Oh, no.

A sudden floating feeling makes your stomach lurch, and you almost retch as Undyne lands hard on the ground.

"N-Nice j-job w-with th-that l-log, U-Undyne," Alphys chirps, happy to praise her girlfriend over apparently clearing a fallen tree.

"Thanks Alphie~" Undyne purrs, not even breathing hard. "I've been thinking about trying to clear Snowdin Gorge—what d'you think? Only weenies use the bridge."

You heart stops at her words. Did you hear her right? She wants to jump over that huge fissure in front of Snowdin? While holding you?!

Nu-uh. Not happening.

You work up the courage to open your mouth, fighting down bile in order to speak your mind.

"NO!" you exclaim. The moment the word leaves your mouth, you groan and close your eyes again, trying to control the swarm of butterflies gathering in your stomach.

"Aww," Undyne sighs. "No? Fine, guess I'll have to try it a different day."

You really shouldn't do it at all...

You don't say that, though, and instead go silent as the journey continues. You bite down hard when you feel Undyne's feet leave the ground again, and have to use all of your concentration to keep from barfing when she lands again.

"Ha! Take that, BOULDER!"

"G-good j-job U-Undyne!"

"Thanks, Alphie~"

This is gonna be a long day...

~Several Minutes of Insane Parkour Later~

Undyne eventually stops running, and gently sets you and Alphys down. You're still too discombobulated to do much of anything, though, so you end up swaying and then falling pathetically to the cobblestone street beneath you. You stay there for a while as you wait for your dizziness to abate. When you eventually regain your head, you breathe a shaky sigh and manage to get to your feet.

"Undyne..." you manage, still a little nauseous, "never do that again. Please."

She doesn't reply, instead giving you a hearty laugh in return. You glance over at her, and find that she is busily stripping her winter wear. Alphys is doing the same, a pile of coats accumulating by her feet. You can understand why—even though you've only been in Hotlands for a few minutes, your jacket is already badly sticking to you. You slide it off and tie it around your waste, grateful that you decided not to wear a long sleeve shirt this morning. Having taken off her own coat, Undyne sighs explosively, and wipes away sweat gathering on her forehead.

"Why does it have to be so freakin' hot here?!" she exclaims. "If I were in my armor, I'd be frying right now."

"There's a reason they're called the Hotlands, Undyne," Alphys says, her stutter disappearing with the weather change. "And I know it's hot, but you should be grateful, too—this is the hub for all of our geothermal energy. Without the magma deposit, we wouldn't—"

"Yeah, yeah. We wouldn't have electricity and we'd all be miserable. I know," Undyne says, sounding playfully sarcastic. "But let's forget about that sciencey stuff! We're here on a mission!"

"R-right!" Alphys exclaims. She turns to you and smiles, a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

"I-I still don't think this is necessary," you mutter, slowly backing up. "I have a nice pair of jeans, and this... this blouse I can wear! Yeah!"

"That's not gonna cut it, nerd," Undyne says, grinning at you.

"Y-yeah! Besides, we're already here!" Alphys says. "Th-there's no backing out now!"

"U-uh..."

Before you can get away, Alphys hurries forward and takes one of your arms, while Undyne does the same on your other side. You gasp in surprise and weakly struggle in their grips, testing their resolve. When neither budges, you sigh and go slack in their grip, resolving yourself to a day of clothes shopping. Your two friends giggle when you give in, and both give you bright grins.

"Aww, cheer up," Alphys says, trying her hardest to sound sympathetic. "It's just a dress. Besides—it's already p-paid for and everything! A-and I think you'll like it once we're done."

"If you say so," you sigh half-heartedly.

Then you shake your head gently and look around. You seem to be in the Underground's capital—you're in the middle of a cobblestone street, grey brick buildings rising on either side of you. It reminds you a little of downtown Ebott City, or maybe London when it's raining—dark and dreary. The occasional light post helps to abate the darkness, but not much can be done for the wet streets, or the tightness of the alley.

"Uh... I thought we were going to the department store," you note, giving Alphys an uncertain glance.

"What?! No way!" Undyne exclaims, answering for her. "Mettaton is paying for this thing, remember? We're gonna milk it for all its worth."

"W-what?"

Your head is still spinning. You're so confused that it's not even funny. Why are they doing this, exactly? I mean... couldn't they have just told you that you needed a dress? They didn't need to take you out themselves... And why are you here, of all places? This place doesn't exactly look very inviting—you doubt that you'll actually find anything worthwhile here. You don't see a single shop on this street.

"Uh... where are we going, again?" you ask.

"Spiffet's Boutique," Undyne says, roughly leading you down the street.

"A boutique?!" you exclaim, dread coursing through you. "Guys, seriously! This is just a date!"

"N-not exactly," Alphys reminds you. "Y-you're going to be s-staring on M-Mettaton's show, remember?"

"You're gonna be on national TV," Undyne adds.

You sigh again, and hang your head.

"Don't remind me," you mutter. You still haven't quite gotten over your stage fright. Every time you go up to perform at Grillby's, your fingers end up shaking so hard that you have to concentrate really hard to hit the right keys. When you sing, it's even worse—your voice gets shaky. If you have issues like that in front of a small crowd of twenty or thirty, how are you supposed to go on national TV?! Just the thought of it is making you queasy...

"You'll do great," Alphys says sympathetically, rubbing your arm. "Don't worry about it. Let's just focus on the dress for right now, alright?"

"...Okay," you murmur. Compared to the looming performance, getting a dress is nothing big. A dress is just an article of clothing. Nothing to get worked up about, right? You shake your head, and straighten from your slouched position.

"So... Spiffet's Boutique," you say uncertainly. "Sounds fancy."

"Y-yeah!" Alphys exclaims enthusiastically. "Spiffet is Mettaton's personal designer—she makes all of his costumes. Sh-she'll make an unbelievable dress for you."

"Mettaton's personal designer...?" you murmur, a little dazed. They're bringing you to a fashionista?

Oh... Oh, this isn't gonna end well.

The two girls don't seem to hear the uncertainty in your voice, because they giggle and usher your forward, practically running as they turn a corner. The light suddenly increases as you turn onto the new street, and you're forced to squint as your eyes work to adjust. When you can see, you take a look at the light's source. In the middle of the otherwise boring street, there's a small shop. Neon orange light spills from various 'open' and 'welcome' signs placed around the storefront, and it mixes with the warm yellow of the street display to create an effect not unlike a beacon in the otherwise dark street.

As your friends force you closer, you take a quick glance at the street display. There are several outfits placed strategically on manikins, and for some inexplicable reason, you feel like you've seen some of them before. You squint at the ridiculously glittery, rhinestone-studded suits and apparel, trying to pinpoint why they're so familiar. It's then that you see the signs accompanying each outfit. "Mettaton glamour Suit, as seen in episode 5 of 'Cooking with a Killer Robot!'" "Mettaton original Bluebell Dress, as seen in the play 'Oh My Love!'" "Original Mettaton Faux-Mink Scarf!"

...They're going to make me into a giant Barbie doll.

Before the dread you're feeling can manifest itself into a desperate attempt to run away, the ringing of a bell sounds as the three of you enter the shop. You barely have time to step into the room before a monster emerges from a room in the back, a predator-like smile on their neon orange face. You try to avoid eye contact, though. You want to postpone this torture for as long as possible.

Instead, you take a quick glance around the shop. It's... surprisingly empty, for a clothing store. In fact, it's practically bare. The warm peach tile underfoot is spotless, and the only furniture resting on top of it is one set of shelves (those are lined with accessories and things like feathers or rhinestones), and a single rack of dresses and suits. No matter where you look, there's nothing else. It seems the dummies in the street display are the only ones that ever come in here...

"Welcome~" a voice purrs. You heave a huge sigh, and then turn your head to look at the brightly colored monster that you'd been avoiding. The moment you look at them, though, you instantly regret it. Your knees go weak, and you would have collapsed had your two friends not been determined to keep you upright.

"Something wrong, deary~?" the monster asks, giving you a wry smile.

"U-uh... N-no, n-not at all..." you mutter, trying to keep from trembling.

"Lying now, are we? My goodness. Ton ton sure knows how to pick them, doesn't he, Alphie? Hue hue hue~" the monster continues, four of her six, pure black eyes sliding shut as she laughs. "No need to be so contrived, deary~ I am well aware that my appearance tends to alarm the faint of heart. It's bad for business... but I tend to find it useful when I need to intimidate my debtors~"

You swallow hard, and manage a nod.

"Now, let's try that again. Something wrong, deary~?"

"Y-you're... Y-you're a... Sp-sp-sp-sp—"

The monster sighs and gives you a playful smirk, her slender fangs gleaming in the light.

"A spider, yes. Don't tell me you have arachnophobia—that would make this arrangement a little bit difficult for both of us."

You take a deep breath, and eventually manage to steady your shaking limbs, and focus in on the spider lady. She's... holy cow. You aren't usually scared of spiders. You're iffy about them—you'll kill one if it comes close, but they don't scare scare you. But seeing... seeing her, a giant, bright orange, intelligent spider... you're terrified. And it's not just her six arms, or her six eyes, or her fangs. It's the way she dresses, too, and the way she carries herself. Her outfit is simple and functional, but stylish—a dress with matching boots. Her jet black hair is pulled into a perfect bun, not a hair out of place. The look is completed with a pair of rimless glasses over her first set of eyes. If you had to explain it to someone... you'd call her a sexy spider secretary crossed with a famous model. It's... intimidating.

"Hue hue hue~ I know I'm stunning, but there's no need to stare, deary~"

You give a start, completely unaware that you'd been gawking at her. You blink rapidly and shake your head, your cheeks flushing red in embarrassment.

"S-sorry," you stammer. "No, I'm not arachnophobic. J-just a little... unnerved."

"Don't worry too much about it, nerd," Undyne says, beaming at you. "You shoulda seen me when I first met her. Scared my socks off."

"Wh-what are you talking about, Undyne? You almost attacked her," Alphys says, cringing.

"Well... she startled me," Undyne says sheepishly. "Sorry about that, by the way, Spiffet. And about nearly wrecking your store that one time."

"Oh, it's all in the past, Undyne," she says, waving it off with one of six hands. "And as nice as it is to see you two again, I have a very busy schedule today. I have a gentleman coming in later for a suit fitting, and then there's Mettaton's next costume... shall we get down to business?"

"Y-yes, of course," Alphys says.

She and Undyne release you from their grasps, and then nudge you in Spiffet's direction. You glance back at them, and are mildly reassured by their encouraging smiles. Then you take an uneasy step towards Spiffet, trying not to look as scared as you feel.

"So... what do I do, exactly?" you ask nervously. "I mean... are there a few dresses I pick from, or...?"

Spiffet stares at you for a moment, her black eyes seeming to stare into your soul. Then she throws her head back, laughter peeling from her.

"Oho! Oh no, no, no, deary. You don't come to Spiffet's boutique to get a premade, factory dress," she says eventually, wiping away tears from her six eyes. "Each of my creations is a work of art—I make to order."

"Oh," you say lamely, trying to keep up. "So... I guess you have to take my measurements?"

You don't like the idea of her putting her hands on you, but if Alphys and Undyne insist on this crazy dress scheme...

"No, deary. That would take such an unbearably long time," she says, turning away. She walks towards the back, heading for the only door in the entire room. When she notices that you aren't following, she gives you a wry smile, and beckons to you. "Well, are you coming?"

You jump a little, and give your friends one last uncertain look before you follow the spider into the depths of her lair. She holds the wooden door open for you, and gives you an unsettlingly gleeful smile as you pass her by. You shiver a little and then turn your attention to the new room. It's fairly large, and seems to be set up as some kind of office. There's a desk to one side, and there are various craft supplies scattered across it. There seems to be more in a storage container to the right of it as well. A few dummies are lined up against the back wall, but each of them are completely bare. So far, nothing too unusual.

As you walk into the room, though, you notice that your feet are sticking to the ground slightly. When you look down, you notice that the tiled floors are covered in some kind of strange white fibers. They're arranged to look like mats, and are just sticky enough to make walking feel funny. You cast a quick glance around the room, and notice that similar mats line the bare walls, and the... ceiling?

That's... uh... weird.

The door behind you swings shut with a click, leaving you alone in the room with Spiffet the spider lady. You shiver subconsciously, and turn to face her. You don't feel comfortable enough to keep standing with your back to her, and she seems to recognize that. She chuckles quietly to herself and crosses over to the desk, getting out various supplies and setting them on its surface.

"So, um... how does this work, exactly?" you ask, trying to sound calmer than you feel. "Should I be doing something, or...?"

"Ah, yes. I'll need you to get undressed, please," Spiffet says, not so much as glancing over her shoulder.

"Oh... um... okay," you say, cringing.

You don't like getting undressed in front of other people. Back when you used to play sports, you were that one person that preferred to use the bathroom stalls than change in an open locker room. But you don't see how you can try on dresses fully clothed, so... you strip. The air is cold against your bare limbs, and you're unbearably self-conscious about both your body, and your choice of underwear. Why do you never choose matching colors?

When Spiffet's done getting out supplies, she tears a large piece of paper off a roll, and smooths it against the wall. The sticky mats hold it in place, giving her an impromptu whiteboard. She twirls two pencils in two of her hands, and glances over at you. She smiles at the sight of your nerve-racked form, and gives you a once-over. Then she turns to her paper, and draws a rough outline of your body. Unfortunately, it's fairly accurate. Your face is burning as you survey her sketch, eyes settling on all the aspects of yourself that you hate.

"Do you have any idea what you want the dress to look like?" Spiffet asks eventually, turning back to you. Her voice tears you away from the self-evaluation that you'd been doing, and you squeeze your arm, trying to refocus.

"Um... no, not really," you admit. "I'm not really good with these things."

"Clearly," Spiffet says. "But do you have any preferences? Short skirt, long skirt, flared skirt, straps, strapless...?"

You blink as she fires off all of the terms, the words swirling dizzyingly around your head.

"U-uh..." you mutter, "I don't know."

Spiffet looks at you incredulously, a look of disbelief in her eyes.

"Really? Nothing? No preferences?"

"You're the fashion expert," you say, looking away. "I'll just go with whatever you decide."

Spiffet continues to stare at you, though her expression has shifted slightly. Where she had seemed disgusted with your ignorance before, she now seems to be a little bit... prideful? She seems happy that you're leaving everything up to her. She gives you a large grin, her fangs once again gleaming in the light. She rubs one pair of her hands together eagerly, and turns to her outline of you.

"Ooooh~ This is going to be fun~" she purrs. "Let's see. Your assets are here and here, so if I want to highlight that..."

You watch as she starts to madly move her pencils across the paper, sketching out what is (apparently) going to be your dress for this date. She notices you looking, and subtly moves to block your view. Every time you try to look around her, she shifts in order to be in front of you again.

"What's your soul color?" she asks suddenly, glancing over her shoulder. You jump slightly at the sudden sound of her voice.

"Oh, uh... blue. Sky blue," you say. "Why?"

"Well," she starts, turning back to her work, "a dress matches a person best if it reflects their soul."

"Oh," you say simply. You rub your arm and look away, discomfort slowly building. You're not sure why, but you really don't like this.

"There we go," she says eventually. You turn to look at her, just in time for her to step away from her drawing. "What do you think? Does that look like something you'd wear?"

...Hell yes.

Even in a sketch, you find yourself falling in love with her creation. Though you're not adept enough to really understand the ins and outs of the design, there's just something about it that makes it hard to tear your eyes away. The dress is long skirted and has one strap, with an empress waist. Beyond that, you don't know how to describe it. It kind of looks like something you've seen in a movie before—that one about Greek mythology. There's something very... Greek about it, actually. Maybe it's the way the skirt falls in perfectly folded ribbons, or the dress's relative simplicity.

The comparison to a Greek dress ends there, though. Instead of being white, the sketch has been colored several shades of blue. It's darkest at the top—a midnight blue—and the shades gradually get lighter the further down the dress you go, eventually fading to white. There's a slit on the dress' side (apparently to show off your legs), and the sash around its middle is drawn to show an intricate design of rhinestones.

You stare at it for almost a minute straight, trying to wrap your mind around it. When Spiffet gives you a knowing smile, though, you manage to shake yourself out of your stupor.

"Yes! Yes, that looks great," you say, cheeks growing warm again. She chuckles, and nods to herself.

"Of course, a sketch won't do it justice," she says, ambling over to you. "The real thing is going to have a few... additions."

You're about to ask her what she means, but the words die in your throat as she gently takes you by your shoulders, and turns you around. She scrutinizes every inch of you, and only lets go when she's seen everything. Then she nods to herself again, and walks over to the nearest wall.

"Let's get to work, then," she says. You wait for her to do something—to pull a dress of some hidden shelf. But instead... she walks up the wall. Like... she literally... Your eyes widen as she starts across the ceiling, treating it like any other floor. She stops directly overhead, and settles into a sitting position. She laughs at your bugging eyes, and gives you a small wave.

"It's easier to focus from up here," she says in way of explanation. "Shall we get started?"

"U-uh... sure?" you ask uneasily. She laughs and gives you a somewhat predatory smile, and then claps her hands together.

Before you know what's happening, an army of small black spiders suddenly appears from between the fibers on the floor and walls, and swarm towards you. You bite back a screech and throw your hands up, ready to protect yourself from your sudden assailants. You screw your eyes shut, and wait for them to start biting.

***

When they don't, you crack one eye open. Shock courses through you, and you open the other. The spiders... are taking your measurements? Several of them are holding a measuring tape, and are moving it this way and that as they gather data about you. There are even a few hanging from the ceiling in order to get your height. You blink, and look up at Spiffet, who is—rather predictably—laughing at you.

"Are you sure you aren't afraid of spiders~?" she asks, smirking. You puff your cheeks out and cross your arms, pointedly looking away. She laughs again, and gives you a curious look. "I'm actually rather surprised. My sister met a human once. She told me that they were fearless—not even Muffet's pet cupcake could dissuade the human from their path. But I suppose all humans aren't the same~"

"Wait... what? Human?" you ask, glancing up at her. "Your sister met my sister?"

"I suppose," she says nonchalantly. "Muffet runs a bakery over in the Hotlands—if the human wanted to get to the castle, she would have had to pass through. And my sister never passes up a customer."

Frisk never mentioned meeting a giant spider. You can't help but wonder why. You think about it for a few moments... and then it hits you. If you had been so scared of Spiffet, you probably would've freaked if you'd learned your sister had fought with a giant spider woman.

Frisk was smart not to say anything.

"Speaking of which, would you like to buy anything from the spider bake sale? All proceeds go to real spiders," Spiffet says. Two spiders scurry in front of you, each holding a sign. "They have spider donuts, and spider cider—made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."

...of spiders?

"Uh... no thanks," you say, politely waving them away. "I don't have any gold on me."

The spiders seem discouraged as they amble away, heads down. You kinda feel bad about it, but what you said was true—you don't actually have any gold on you.

Wait. If I don't have any gold on me... then how am I gonna pay for all this?!

You're about to go into full-out panic mode. How could you have been so careless?! A custom made dress is going to be expensive. Even if you had gold on you, you doubt you'd be able to afford it. You're about to bring it up to Spiffet, and profusely apologize for you lack of foresight... but it seems she already knew what you were thinking.

"Don't worry, deary. It's all already paid for," she says, peering down at you. "Mettaton has some very, very deep pockets~"

"Oh. Well... okay," you say uncertainly. You don't like taking favors from people. Not from Sans, not from Grillby, and definitely not from Mettaton. But you guess you're going to be singing for him anyway... would that count as compensation? You don't know if the service is as good as the cost... but you let it slide. You don't really like the robot that much—you don't feel too bad about letting him spend some of his vast fortune at you.

"Then let's get started," she says, grinning. "I'm going to need you to stand as still as you can, on that spot directly beneath you."

You look down, and are mildly surprised to see that you're standing in the dead center of a bright orange circle in the woven mats. It... looks disturbingly similar to a bullseye. You shake the thought off, and glance back up at the monster above you.

"Good. I'm going to start from the top down, so I need you to hold your hands directly out to your sides," she says.

"Uh... okay?" you ask, bewildered. You do as she asks, even though it makes you feel really stupid. You look like you're some kind of bird wanna be—or maybe a lunatic about to jump off a building in their underwear. It's not long before your arms start to hurt, your muscles protesting against the strain you're putting them under.

"Perfect," Spiffet purrs. "Now... this may take a while, but I'll work as quickly as I can."

At this point, you're really curious what that entails. What kind of designer stands you on a bullseye and asks you to go spread-eagle? And you don't see any sign of a sewing machine, or even a needle...

Then, you see a spray of neon orange, spark-like concentrations of energy. They drift down from above, dissipating in the air as quickly as embers on a misty night.

Magic? you wonder.

Curious, you glance above you. You have to resist your urge to gasp when you see what's happening above you. You can barely even see Spiffet anymore. Your view is blocked by thousands upon thousands of silk-like fibers—they're flying every which way, spurred on by sparks of orange magic. The fibers seem to be coming from Spiffet's outstretched palms, and they do the craziest cat's cradle you've ever seen before eventually spiraling down through the air towards you.

You watch in a mix of awe and terror as the first few fibers circle around you and then close in, changing colors as they lay themselves gingerly against your skin. You shudder at the feel of them. They aren't sticky, like the floors—they're actually extremely soft—but there's something about having thousands of spider webs on you that inevitably sends a shiver up your spine.

You try your best to stay still, but you still find yourself squirming as the fibers wrap around you. It's... unnatural. And creepy. It's like you're one of those flies in a nature documentary—being wrapped up as dinner for the hungry female spider...

"Wh-what is this stuff?" you ask, forcing that image to the back of your mind.

"Hue hue hue~ It's spider silk, deary," Spiffet says, "Softest and most durable material you'll find anywhere."

The fibers are somehow seamlessly weaving themselves together, turning into a patch of cloth on your right shoulder. As you watch, it slowly becomes longer, the midnight blue fabric growing down around your shoulder, and then start to spread across your chest. Slowly, your fear begins to die. The fabric is... beautiful. The color is rich and vibrant, and it sparkles in the light—like someone had brushed a fine silvery powder over it.

"Woah..." you breathe.

Now that you're not so scared, the process itself intrigues you. Spiffet isn't just making a dress for you—she's literally weaving a dress around you, using silk that she herself produces.

This is... actually pretty cool.

You have a bunch of questions you could ask her about it. How does she make the silk? How does she weave it? How is it getting its color? But before you can ask any one of those questions, a loud knock sounds on the door.

"H-hey, (Y/N)," Alphys says, voice muffled. "H-how's it going?"

"Good," you call, managing a smile.

"G-good!" she echoes, "S-so, um... w-we need to talk about what we're going to do next."

"Next?" you ask. "What d'you mean? We're just getting the dress, right?"

"N-not exactly," Alphys says. "There's... Oh, how do I put this? You know how in some human c-cultures, a couple exchanges rings when they're dating? N-not like a wedding ring, just a... a-a dating kind of thing"

"I think I've seen that in a coupla anime," you say. "And some couples do that in my country, but not many. Why, do monsters do that?"

"W-well, n-not exactly..." Alphys says, sounding harried. "Our tradition is a bit more complex..."

"What's complex about it, Alphie?" Undyne says, butting in. "You give your partner your family star. Nothing complex about that."

"Well, maybe not for a monster," Alphys says, "but for someone who doesn't understand the meaning behind it, it warrants a little more explanation."

"Family star?" you ask, bewildered. "What?"

"Well, you know that the stars on the ceiling of the Underground are actually crystals, right?" Alphys asks. "Y-you may have noticed that they sparkle, just like r-real stars. There's a reason for that. See, for every s-star on the ceiling, there's also a matching crystal in Waterfall."

"You mean those gems that stick out of the ground and walls and stuff?" you ask.

"Yeah, those. And they're n-not gems, they're crystals. Drain crystals, if you want to get technical."

"Drain crystals?" you ask.

"Yeah. For every s-star on the ceiling, there's a matching drain crystal in Waterfall. Whenever a monster comes into contact with a drain crystal, it takes some of their magic energy, and causes its partner star crystal to experience a power surge," Alphys explains. Now that she's in full-out nerd mode, her stutter has disappeared. "That's what causes the stars on the ceiling to twinkle—a monster coming into contact with its matching drain crystal."

"That's pretty cool," you say. "But... what does that have to do with couples and traditions?"

"I was just about to get to that. See, the crystals aren't actually rocks—they're a special magical solid that's bioluminescent. So, unlike rocks, they can divide to create more..." she starts. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. When the monsters were first trapped Underground, the King tried to raise the morale of his subjects by allowing one member of each family to pick out a star crystal on the Underground's ceiling. That family member's partner would own its accompanying drain crystal. It was symbolic of our strong ties, and was meant to encourage those first few monsters by reminding them that they still had each other."

"The first sharing of crystals later became a tradition. Whenever a monster wants to begin dating another, they give their partner their star crystal. It's a sign of devotion, and is only reserved for serious relationships," Alphys continues. "They usually mount it on something—a ring, or a bracelet... things like that. Then they'll wear its accompanying drain crystal. Because the two are linked, and feed off of magic, the couple will always know if their partner is safe—it'll boost the partners' sensitivity to each others' souls, too. They'll be able to sense when the other is near, and if one of them is in trouble, the crystals' glow changes to reflect the differences in magic usage. It's rather romantic, actually."

"Wait. So... basically, it's like exchanging rings, but with more history and magic involved?" you ask, trying to clarify. Alphys chuckles, and you can almost see her nodding.

"Yeah, basically."

"Huh," you mutter. Then something hits you. "Did you and Undyne exchange stars?"

"Of course we did, punk!" Undyne exclaims. "I wouldn't want any other monster to get her hands on my Alphie. She's got my star crystal on this really cute ring I got her."

"And I set Undyne's drain crystal into an armlet that fits under her armor."

"You're always so thoughtful, Alphie~"

You chuckle as you hear Alphys squeal, most likely because Undyne's kissed her. But then, you think of another question.

"Wait... so then what happened to Alphys' crystals?" you ask.

"O-oh yeah," Alphys says breathlessly. "Since the crystals divide so rapidly, there's enough for a set per person—that leads to a lot of extras. There are so many, actually, that we have an entire bureau to keep track of everything. Mine were probably deregistered, so they'll be given to someone else when they get old enough. They run in families, though, so... yeah. They may just take them down. They can't pass it on to anyone, and if they divide, I have no kids or siblings to give them to...."

"...You don't have any family, Alphys?" you ask, voice hushed.

"Well... no. B-but that's a long story," she says quickly. Then she changes the subject, obviously trying to keep you from prying too deep. "A-anyway, like I was saying... Sans may end up giving you a star crystal on this date of yours. And if he does, you're going to have to get him something to put his drain crystal in."

"So... I basically have to buy him a ring?"

"Or something else. It doesn't have to be a ring."

"Wait, wait. Hold on for a sec. Sans is going to give me his star? Are you sure? I mean... that sounds like a big deal, and it's only been a month..."

"Have you seen the way he looks at you?" Undyne asks, a laugh to her voice. "He's smitten. If he doesn't give it to you, he'll never give it to anyone."

"But... I dunno. This sounds like it's moving really fast..."

"It's not like you're getting married, or anything," Undyne says roughly. "There's a whole 'nother ceremony for that; this just means that you're serious. Think of it like... like you're letting him know that you might marry him. That you're not just a fling. That's all."

"Well, not all all. It's a b-big deal."

"Yeah, but it's not, like... binding. You don't wanna scare her."

"That's why I c-compared it to the humans' ring tradition..."

You let them bicker for a while, just long enough to take note of Spiffet's progress. The dress is down to your waist, now. Your arms are shaking from holding them up for so long, but... you think it's going to be worth it. Even unfinished, it looks... well, beautiful.

"(Y/N)? You still listening?"

"What? Uh... I kinda spaced out," you admit, directing your attention back to Alphys. "What were you saying?"

"I was asking you what kind of accessory you want to get for Sans. They should be at the bureau right now, and Papyrus is going to bring over the drain crystal the moment that they get it out of waterfall. You should probably think about what you want to get him."

Oh.

You suddenly feel a lot of pressure. This... this whole "crystal" thing is basically a physical representation of your love for each other. The last thing you want to do is mess it up. You go silent, the gears in your head turning on max.

A ring? No, he's a skeleton. That'd just fall off his finger. A necklace? Eh... that's kinda feminine. I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that... but I don't think it'd suit him. Alphys gave Undyne an armlet... but I can't imagine that'd be comfortable. What about a bracelet?

You think about it for a minute. You could get him something soft, like one of those woven things that people at tourist traps sell... somehow put a crystal on that. You can see him wearing something like that. It wouldn't hurt his fragile bones, and it'd fit snuggly. But at the same time... you feel like that's too average for such an important gift. You continue to think about it, humming thoughtfully to yourself as the threads of spider silk wrap themselves around your thighs.

And then... it hits you. Sans is always asking you what time it is. It's something that you constantly tease him about—he's come to expect your "time to get a watch" joke. If you were to get him a watch with a leather strap... it would be comfortable like a woven bracelet, it would be nice enough to give as a gift like that, and it would also have the added bonus of serving a function; telling time. All in one package.

"I think I know what I want to get him," you call.

"That's great!" Undyne's voice booms.

"Then we'll head o-over to the department store as soon as you're done in there," Alphys adds. "I can't wait to see what you p-pick out~ The OTP is finally becoming reality! Oh, I'm so excited!"

"...What?"

~Meanwhile, at the Bureau of Stars~

~Sans' Perspective~

"What're we here for, again?" I ask, somewhat annoyed as I look around the tiny little room we're in. For such an "important" government office, it seems pretty unimpressive. Small, grey, and understaffed. There's a line of people stretching from the desk to the door, and it's not moving. There seems to be so much paperwork involved with... with whatever this is that we might as well be standing still. We've already been here for half an hour, and only two people have left.

"We're here to get you your star and drain crystals," Mettaton says curtly.

"My... what?" I ask, grimacing. "What in the world are you talking about, rust bucket?"

Mettaton sighs, drawing a hand across his stupidly perfect face. He glares at me, and clicks his tongue.

"I'm the one that's paying for this little date of yours, Sans. I would suggest that you be a little bit nicer to me," he says. His tone is cheerful, but I can tell that he's talking to me through gritted teeth. "And please, don't play dumb. You already seem ignorant as it is."

I chuckle, my fingers twitching from their place in my pockets. I really, really want to blast this guy in the face right now.

"Buddy, did you just call me stupid?" I ask, smiling hiking up a few inches. "I may not look it, but I could probably beat your sorry ass at any test you throw at me—"

"No, I called you ignorant," he says, cutting me off. "There's a difference."

I grunt a quiet insult under my breath, and then try to regain my composure. Paps and the Kid are both here, and they're quietly talking among themselves off to one side. I don't think they're paying us much attention, but I don't wanna have them overhear anything unpleasant, regardless.

"Now. Back to your question. We're here to get your star. Do you have a problem with that?" he asks me, smirking.

"Yes, I have a problem," I growl. "What the hell are you talking about? Stars? Drain crystals?"

Mettaton turns to look at me, his ridiculous pink feather scarf thingy fluttering as he moves. He gives me a look, eyebrows low over his eyes.

"Are you being serious right now?" he asks me, putting his hands on his hips. "You really don't know? About the whole give-the-girl-you-like-your-family-star tradition?"

"No," I spit, exasperated. "You're just making this up, aren't you? This is all just a gag? Oh, I know. This is for your show, isn't it? Alright. Where are the cameras?"

Mettaton blinks, and gives me a strange look. I think... he's... shocked? That's odd. If he'd set everything up, you'd think he'd have seen that coming.

"Sans... you really don't know," he says incredulously. "I can't believe that you... No, I'm not making it up. Ask anyone here—it's a tradition as old as the Underground. How can you not have heard of it? Didn't your parents pass down a crystal to you?"

"I dunno about crystals," I growl, "but you can keep your oversized metal nose outta my personal life."

"Sans, seriously—I'm just trying to help you!" he exclaims. "Stop being so aggressive, and just listen to me for a moment, will you?"

I huff in frustration and pointedly look away, still quietly seething. He says something to me, but I blatantly ignore him, instead walking over to a stack of magazines that someone had meticulously organized. I pick up the topmost one and take a look at it.

'Everything you need to know about finding your star,' I read. I glower it at, bone brows lowering. What is this, an infographic?

Despite how hard I've been trying to brush the rust bucket off, something about his tone a coupla minutes ago keeps getting to me. Why did he seem so surprised when I didn't recognize that tradition thingy? Was he being serious? Is there really something I don't know? Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I crack the magazine open, and skim through it.

Woah. He was serious, I realize eventually. Every monster has a star registered to them, which they give to their partner? Why haven't I heard of this before?! Seems like a big deal...

I sigh quietly and snap the infographic shut, tossing it back on top of the pile. Then I trudge back over to Mettaton, who's watching me with an intolerably smug look on his face.

"Do you believe me now?" he asks, smirking. I grumble in response, and glance over at Paps and the kid. They're playing tic-tack-toe in the corner, and Frisk seems to be winning every single time. "Sans. Sans. Sans!"

"What?!" I snap, turning back towards the pink-studded popstar.

"Don't you want to give (Y/N) your star?" he asks, voice suddenly quiet. "If you don't, we can just leave..."

"N0!" I exclaim. Then I blink, and rapidly shake my head. "I-I mean yes. Yes, I want to give it to her, no, I don't want to leave. She means everything to me—if doin' this'll make her happy, I'll do it."

"Good," Mettaton says, "but you should realize that it's not just for her benefit. You don't seem to have realized the significance of what you're about to do."

"I'm giving her a really cool present, I guess," I say, shrugging.

"No, that's not it," he corrects, putting his hands on his hips. "A star is something that runs in families. By giving yours to her, you're telling her that you're willing to consider her as an addition to your family. It's a pledge of devotion, one that's reserved for couples that are serious."

"A pledge of devotion?" I repeat, voice dropping.

"Yeah. It's a big deal. You're giving her something of yourself that's irreplaceable—like a physical stand-in for your soul," Mettaton explains. "Oh! Actually, that's the perfect example. Consider giving her a crystal the same as telling her that your soul belongs to her."

"She's had my soul for a long time now," I murmur.

"Then it's high time you give her a crystal," Mettaton says. "Now, come on. It looks like it's our turn."

I glance up, and sure enough, we're suddenly standing at the front of the line.

"Next," a monster calls. I start to get nervous as we walk up to the front desk, beads of sweat forming against my skull. A deer-like monster is sitting at a computer, hooves posed over specially designed keys. As I approach, he glances over at me, and sighs as he starts on whatever process we have to go through. "Name?"

Mettaton glances at me, and gives me a go-on gesture.

"Uh... Sans," I say.

"Sans what?"

"Uh... Sans?" I say again, tone inquisitive.

"What's your last name?" the deer asks tiredly, giving me an annoyed look.

"I... don't have one?"

"Look man," he says, peering at me over his glasses. "I've been sitting here, asking the same questions for over four hours. Please, don't do this to me."

I bristle a little at his tone—I'm in a bad mood, and this guy's attitude isn't helping.

"My name is Sans. Just Sans," I say, careful to keep my tone neutral. "Or, if you wanna get technical, Sans the skeleton, I guess."

The worker sighs dramatically, and turns to his computer.

"Dude. Really. I don't have time for this. Do you know your family name? A parent? Sibling? Anything I can work with?" he asks, rapidly typing something out.

"Well... my brother's name is Papyrus..." I mutter, shuffling awkwardly.

"And his last name?"

"Just Papyrus."

"DID SOMEONE CALL FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS?!"

"No, Papy dear," Mettaton calls quickly, shooing him away. "You go back to Frisk, alright?"

"OKAY! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL UNDOUBTEDLY WIN THIS NEXT MATCH OF TIC-TACK-TOE!"

Before I can tell Mettaton off for his subtly affectionate treatment of my brother, he turns to me, and gives me a quick once-over.

"You're not kidding, are you? You don't know your last name?"

"Nope," I say as simply as possible. I give Mettaton a wide smile and a shrug, trying desperately to hide the anger surging underneath.

Mettaton continues to look at me for a moment, and then he whips out a cellphone, quickly giving it a few swipes and putting it to his ear.

"Alphys! Alphys, we have a problem. No, that's not it. No, we don't have them. Just hold on a second, and I'll explain! He doesn't know his last name. Well, you said that you were the first one to find him, so I figured—Nothing? Come on, you don't know anything?" he asks incredulously. "What about his parents? Do you know anything about them? Just a name, maybe?"

Mettaton falls silent, and listens intently for a few minutes.

"Well... okay. Even if it's just a hunch, that's something, I suppose. The last royal scientist? Who was the last royal scientist?"

At his words, my heart stops. What's this I'm hearing? Alphys knows something about my parents? The last royal scientist...

Pictures suddenly flash through my mind, images of white tile and white labcoats and glass containers. I... There's this voice. It's garbled and indistinct, like a speaker placed underwater. I'm sent reeling by the force of the sudden flashback, and have to grab onto the desk to steady myself before I fall over.

"Woah!" the worker exclaims, giving me a worried look. "You alright, man?"

"Fine," I say tightly. I quickly straighten myself, and cast this latest series of vague flashbacks to the deepest recesses of my psyche. No use thinking about them.

Mettaton also gives me a worried look, but just as quickly looks away as he continues his conversation with Alphys.

"What do you mean, you don't know? Weren't you their apprentice? ...Whoever they were? ... You don't remember?!" Mettaton exclaims, throwing a hand up. "Well, thanks. That doesn't really help us, does it?!"

Out of the corner of my eyesocket, I see something. The worker that'd been serving us has a strange expression on his face. It takes a moment for me to register what it is, but when I do, it makes my marrow turn cold. Fear.

"H-hey, dude, lookit this," he mutters. He turns the computer around, and gestures shakily to its rapidly flickering screen. My eyesockets widen as I stare at it, watching as strange symbols appear and glitch sporadically across the screen. "It's gone completely nuts! Maybe I should try resetting it..."

The monster reaches out for the power button. Before he can come close to it, though, the screen flashes white, and then settles. I stare at it for a moment, trying to understand what I'm seeing. It looks like pictures and serial numbers of two blue crystals—one attached to the ceiling, and one protruding from the side of a river in Waterfall. Information about the crystals' dimensions and things are listed beneath the pictures, and at the top, there's a space for a family name. That space, however, is still glitching. And even when it eventually settles, no name appears to claim the crystals. Instead, there's a single line of strange symbols.

DATA MISSING (In Wingdings)

...What?

I can't tear my eyes off of them, those symbols. There's just... something about them. I feel like... I know them? Or I recognize them, at least. It's like my mind is reaching out for information that isn't there—like it knows that it should be able to read it, but is unable to.

But that's crazy. How could I forget a language if I didn't even know I could read it in the first place? If it even is a language... it looks like just a bunch of doodles.

The last time I saw symbols like these, it was on those blueprints in the basement...

"Woah... this is weird," the monster says, scrutinizing the screen. "I've never seen these two before, and I'm the one that had to reorganize all the files this year..."

I continue to stare at the screen, my gaze this time fixating on the pictures. I don't know why... but there's something about those crystals that just... feels right. For whatever reason, my soul is twisting at the sight of them. It's not sadness, exactly... but something more bittersweet. There's some part of me that realizes that these crystals were given to me by someone I've forgotten, yet at the same time, I'm grateful to them for the opportunity that they've given me.

If I give that to her... I'm getting serious.

Something about the thought excites me. I can almost picture it... a life with her. Living in the same house, always having her by my side... This would be the first step on the long road to that. But as always, that stupid, stupid fear is there, too.

Everything is so fragile. If the breeze blows on this house of cards, everything'll come crashing down...

"Yo, dude. You alright?" the monster asks, waving his hand in front of my face. "You seem kinda... down all of a sudden. What's up?"

"It's nothing," I say gruffly, shaking my head. "I just thought that those crystals looked familiar, that's all."

"Do they?" he asks, grinning. "Well, that's good! I don't think they're owned by anyone—if you think they look right, I don't have any problems givin' them to you. After all the weird stuff that's happened since you got here, I kinda feel like it was maybe meant to be, you know?"

Meant to be, huh? Who knows, maybe we are. How I ended up with someone as amazing as her, though, I'll never understand.

"So, whaddya say?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah, I'll take 'em," I say, zoning back in. "Uh... how do I go about doing that?"

"Paperwork, my friend. Paperwork," he says, sliding a clipboard to me from across the desk. "Paperwork which I'm gonna have to file, by the way. It's not fun, lemme tell you."

I pick up the ominous clipboard, and play with the pen for a few moments as I study the information I'm going to have to give out. A wry smile crosses my face as I look over it, and I irritably click the pen and start filling out what I can.

First name: Sans.

Last name: N/A.

Date of Birth: who knows.

Inherited Star From: hell if i know.

Star Serial Number: WDG17-091505-1

Drain Crystal Serial Number: WDG17-091505-2

Star Recipient: (F/N) (L/N)

Drain Crystal Recipient: me

Place of Residence: the really christmassy house, snowdin.

For all that effort, I only know the answers to half of the question they're asking me. I chuckle to myself, somewhat amused by the irony of it all. If I knew any less, I wouldn't have an identity at all. Despite that, I slide the clipboard back over to the worker, who gives me a friendly smile, and inserts the paperwork into some kind of machine.

"That should do it," he says. "You know, I'm sorry about my attitude earlier. It took me an hour to get the guy before you situated—for whatever reason, he felt the need to argue with everything I said, and it got me into a really foul mood. But I just want'cha to know that I'm happy for you. It's something I can only imagine, you know? Having someone special enough to give a star."

He sighs and whimsically plays with his cheek, a faraway look in his eyes.

"There's this really cute guy I know that lives down the street. The idea of giving him a star someday is just—" He cuts himself off, and gives me a nervous chuckle. "You get the picture. Anyway! I'll send someone to get these collected for you. You're probably gonna want to get them cut, right? The jeweler next door is an expert at that. We can deliver them directly to him, if you want."

I turn to Mettaton, wanting to see what he thinks. Knowing him, he's probably got some grand scheme in mind. I stare at him, waiting for him to say something along the lines of 'oh no, darling. That's much too passé for my tastes—we're going to take it to blankity-blank jeweler and make it fabulous.' But instead, he just gives me an uncaring wave. He's still talking on the phone, but it seems to be someone else.

"Yes, that's fine. Just make sure that all of our camera monsters will be there. This is going to be huge—the debut of a star," he says. "Yes. Yes, make it as glamorous as possible. Party cannons? Well, I suppose... just make sure they make a bang, darling."

I don't like the sound of that.

I sigh and turn back to the monster, and give him the all clear for the store next door.

"Great! I'll send for the crystals now, then. Give it half an hour, and they'll arrive next door," he says, winking at me. "Aaand... that's it! Have a nice day! Hope it goes well."

He grins one last time and waves me away, before loudly calling out 'next' to the next person in line. I blink and turn away, a receipt of kind in hand. I'm still not entirely sure how this's gonna work... but I guess it's happening regardless.

The moment I leave the counter, the kid comes running over to me, a huge grin on her face. She bounces on her toes excitedly, and pulls at my sleeve.

"Woah there, kid. What's got into 'ya all of a sudden?" I ask, chuckling a little. "You got somewhere to be, or something?"

"You've gotta get something for Sis, right? Let's go! The jeweler's right next door," she signs, tugging me towards the door.

"Wha? Oh yeah. You know about this whole crystal thing, kid?" I ask.

"Yeah! Ton-Ton told me all about it. Oh, it's gonna be so romantic~" she signs, grinning. "I know just what you should do with the crystal, and—"

"Woah there, kid," I say firmly, taking her hand off my sleeve. "I know you're excited, but this's for me to do, alright? I need to be the one making the decisions."

The kid gives me an incredulous look, her hand falling limply to her side. For a terrible second, I think I've upset her. Then she breaks into a huge grin, and claps her hands together.

"Oh my gosh. Dunkle's not being lazy for once!" she exclaims. "He's serious! He's so in love~ He wants to make it perfect~"

"Shut up, kid," I growl playfully, gently shoving her away. She just giggles and holds the door open for me, her eyes sparkling.

"You didn't deny it~" she signs once I'm out.

"C'mere, you!" I exclaim, pretending to try to reach out and grab her. She giggles and nimbly dodges my half-hearted attack, twirling away into the cobblestone streets. From behind me, I can hear the door open and close again.

"BROTHER! I HEARD YOU'RE GETTING (Y/N) A STAR!" Paps exclaims, bounding over to me. "THAT WOULD MAKE THE PERFECT GIFT! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU WITH COMING UP WITH IT!"

I chuckle and rub the back of my skull, giving Mettaton a subtle side glance.

"Yup. It was totally my idea," I say, trying to sound convincing.

"I'M SURE IT WAS!" he says. Then he strikes a pose and points at the store next door. "NOW! TO FINISH THE TASK YOU HAVE SO VALIANTLY SET FOR US! TO THE JEWLER!"

I chuckle as Frisk and Paps race for the store, its entrance bell sounding almost violently as they fling the door open. I amble after them, the door closing behind them long before I get there. Mettaton follows behind me, still talking to whatever manager on his phone. I let him pass me by, and watch as the door closes behind him as he enters the store. The crystals aren't going to get here for half an hour. And now that they aren't watching me...

I go into a nearby alley, and take out my phone. Moments later, I'm dialing (Y/N). All this talk about commitment and romance's really made me want to talk to her. Anticipation swells through me as the phone rings once, then twice... three times... It doesn't look like she's going to pick up. I sigh, and move to take the phone away from my auditory meatus.

"Hey Sans!" a familiar voice exclaims. "What's up?"

"Heya Buttercup," I say, smiling to myself as I lean against the wall. "It looks like you were right—the rust bucket had plans for me."

"Oh yeah?" she asks coyly, voice amused. I get the idea she knows more than she's letting on. "What kind of plans~?"

"It's a secret," I say, slouching. The sound of her voice is just so... relaxing. All the tension from earlier is melting away.

"Aww~ C'mon Sansy~"

A shiver runs down my spine at the nickname, and I find myself spluttering pathetically into the phone.

"S-Sansy?!" I stammer.

"What, you don't like it? I'm trying to come up with a nickname for you, but 'Sans' is kinda hard to work with, you know? 'Sansy' is all I could come up with."

"N-no, I don't mind," I say hoarsely, cheekbones burning. I make a few more strange noises, and then grasp for a new subject. "U-uh... what're you up to?"

"It's a secret~" she says playfully, mimicking me. I chuckle and instinctively stick my tongue out at her... only to remember that she can't actually see me. I quickly glance around me, hoping no one saw. Luckily, there's no one else in the alley.

"So..." I say eventually. "Tonight's date night."

"Yup," she affirms, amused.

"We're gonna actually... go on a date. And stuff."

"Stuff?" she asks, laughing. "I hope you're not thinking about what I think you're thinking about~"

"Wh-what?! N-no. No, I didn't mean—" I mutter. I make some embarrassingly squeaky noises, and hurriedly put my hood up. "I-I mean, unless you want to...?"

Explosive laughter sounds from the other side of the phone, which makes me retreat deeper into the protective cowl of my hood.

"One step at a time, Sansy," she eventually gasps, still breathless from laughing. She seems like she's about to say something else, but another voice interrupts. It's strangely quivery, and sends an involuntary shudder speeding through me. "Wait... you're gonna do what?! Uh... okay? I guess? Gotta go, Sans. I'm at the mercy of a giant spider. Bye~"

"Wait, what—"

The phone goes dead before I can finish. I stare at the screen, bewildered.

Giant spider? What, is she having tea with Muffet or something?

I shrug it off, and slip my phone back into my pocket. Then I head back onto the main street, and into the store.

***

The guy at the front desk said that the crystals would get here in half an hour. That's not that long... but for some reason, I'm so antsy that it seems like forever. I've spent the last ten or twenty minutes trying to figure out what to get her. What does she even like? I don't really see her wear jewelry that often. And then, the jeweler started talking about crystal shapes and cuts... I groan, staring at the chart that he'd given me. It has a lot of common shapes on it, and it's meant to help me decide easier.

...It's not helping.

"OOOH, SANS, LOOK AT THIS ONE! ISN'T IT PRETTY?" Papyrus asks, holding up a golden anklet. "IT'S SO SHINY!"

"Yeah, bro," I say, looking up. "But uh... I dunno if she'd want an anklet. And we don't even know what the crystal looks like yet..."

"OKAY... WHAT ABOUT THIS ONE?"

"I... I dunno, bro," I mutter, running a tired hand across my temple. I told the kid that I wanted to be the one making decisions... so why is it giving me such a headache?

Mettaton is sitting in a chair in the corner, still on his phone. I was expecting him to give me all kinds of design advice... but it seems my attitude earlier has led him to give me the cold shoulder. I usually wouldn't mind it (good riddance!), but I uh... kinda need his help now, as pathetic as it is. Design is one area that I'm pretty much clueless in.

The Kid is surveying the selection, her expression kept carefully neutral as she examines the necklace chains. It seems she's taking my request to heart—she hasn't given me so much as a suggestion since I entered the store. ...I'm starting to wish she would. (Y/N) is her sister, after all—Frisk probably knows exactly what to do. I watch the kid for a few more minutes, and then sigh and toss the unhelpful stone-cut chart onto the counter.

Guess it wouldn't hurt to ask her opinion.

The kid turns when she hears me saunter over, and her neutral expression is a painful reminder of the time we first met. Every time she fell down, she always kept this eerily neutral expression—as if she was reserving judgement on me and everyone around her. 'Course, whenever she was possessed by Chara, that turned into a creepy smile...

I shake the thought off, and turn to look at what the kid's been so fixated on. She seems to have been looking at necklace chains. I raise a bonebrow and turn to her, which makes the tiniest of grins appear on her face.

"You think I should get her a necklace, huh?" I ask.

"I dunno. Maybe I do, maybe I don't," she signs coyly, tilting her head up. "Wouldn't want to make a decision for you."

That barbed comment makes me cringe, and I rub the back of my skull uneasily as I fight to meet her eye.

"Look, I-uh... I need your help. I have no idea what I'm doing," I admit. "You know (Y/N) better than anyone. What would she want?"

"You want my help, do 'ya?"

"Yeah. Yes please, oh knowledgeable one."

"Hmm.... If I agree, will you promise to play Mario Kart with me tomorrow?"

I groan, and roll my irises. It's not that I don't like the game—it's just that I've played it with her so many times that it's gotten boring. Oh, and the kid's a bad loser, too. Every time I beat her, she ends up throwing her controller. I've taken to purposely losing just to satisfy her. But as much as I hate it, I really do need her help right now.

"Fine," I agree, sighing. She giggles and makes a fist bump, before turning back to the display. "Alright... let's leave the crystal for last, and start simple. Silver or gold?"

"Neither," Frisk signs. "She doesn't like the color of gold, and silver tarnishes. White gold would be better."

"White gold?" I ask skeptically. "That's a thing?"

"Yes indeed," the octopus-monster jeweler says. "You can find the white gold in this section here, right next to the platinum."

"Platinum?!" the kid exclaims, hands slapping with the force of her sudden sign. Her eyes are sparkling, and she turns to me with a huge grin on her face. "Ton-Ton's paying for this, right? We don't have to worry about price, right?"

"That's right, darling," Mettaton calls from the corner, still absorbed in his phone. "Price is no object. Go wild~"

Frisk gasps adorably and then turns back to me, eyes shining.

"Then platinum! Go for platinum!" Frisk signs enthusiastically.

"Heh, alright," I say. "Platinum it is. And just to make sure... you were looking at the necklaces, right? You don't think (Y/N) would want—I dunno—like a ring or something?"

The kid shakes her head, and then sticks her tongue out.

"Definitely not. She doesn't like rings or bracelets very much—they get in the way when she's playing piano and stuff," she signs. "A necklace is the way to go. She used to have one from our mom and dad... but she lost it when we were hiking one day. If she got something to replace it, she'd be really happy! She'd probably wear it every day."

"Alright, a necklace," I say thoughtfully, looking at the chains through the glass. "A platinum necklace."

I don't have a very good eye for this stuff, but for some reason, my eye keeps getting drawn to one chain in particular. It's a long one, and the links on it are connected in such a way that the chain twists in a barely noticeable spiral pattern. From a distance, it looks like every other necklace, but when you get close, it reflects the light and sparkles as if it were some kind of gem.

"I like this one," I murmur, staring at it. "What d'you think, Frisk?"

She scurries over, pressing her nose against the glass as she examines it.

"Oooh! Yeah, it's really pretty!" she signs, turning to beam at me.

And expensive, too, I note, wincing. 7,875 G. That's almost a month's worth of rent. Just how rich is that bucket of bolts?!

"Yeah, it's really pretty," I say uneasily.

Can I really just let him do this for me? I get the feeling this is going to come back to bite me. From what I've heard, Mettaton isn't afraid to ask for favors...

I glance over my shoulder at Mettaton, my discomfort at this situation making me more and more cautious of him. I can almost imagine him coming to our house out of the blue some day, and asking me to co-star on one of his shows in the name of paying off this "favor."

"Dunkle, Dunkle!" the kid exclaims, pulling at my sleeve. "How do you want the crystals cut? They're gonna match, right? Ooh! And what about the setting? You've still gotta pick that out, too~"

"Can't we wait for them to actually get here first?" I ask, trying to stall.

This is overwhelming.

"NO NEED, BROTHER! THEY'RE HERE!" Paps exclaims, pointing behind me.

I grimace and turn around, just and time to see the doors to the store open. A monster in a Bureau uniform waltzes into the room, a painfully artificial smile on his face as he offers a cardboard box to me.

"Are you Sans?" he asks curtly.

"Yup," I say, taking it. "Thanks, pal."

"No problem," he says. "Congratulations."

Without saying anything else, he turns, and scurries back out of the store, its bell sounding cheerfully behind him.

Before I can so much as open the box, though, I'm practically attacked by two enthusiastic missiles—one blue, and one red. Frisk rips the box right out of my hands, and I'm so dazed that I don't move to stop her. I watch as she and Paps each take one of the crystals, holding them reverently in front of their faces.

The crystals are... wow. It's like they're actually holding stars in their hands. They aren't very big—each is about the size of a gold piece—but despite their small size, they're... incredibly beautiful. The crystals are baby blue and glow softly, creating their own light. The small impurities and bubbles inside of them play off of the light, making it seem as if each crystal hosts a galaxy within them.

For reasons I don't understand, the sight of those crystals makes my soul seize. I've never seen them before, and yet I feel an inexplicable connection to them. Having them in someone else's hands feels... wrong, somehow. Even though it's just Paps and the kid, I feel as if they're trespassing on something... something extremely private. Before I can think it over, my magic instinctively flares, and I snatch the crystals out of their hands and levitate them into my own. They feel warm against my phalanges, and now that they're in my grip, I feel a lot more at ease.

"BROTHER, YOU COULD HAVE JUST ASKED," Paps says indignantly, putting his hands on his hipbones. "THAT WAS RATHER RUDE."

The kid nods in enthusiastic agreement, mimicking Paps' pose and scowling at me.

"S-sorry, guys, but I-I just..."

How do I even explain that?

"You just couldn't resist, right?" the jeweler asks, sympathetically waving a tentacle. "I'm not surprised. There's something about a person's star that's really precious and rare. It's normal to covet it."

He sighs whimsically and clasps his cheeks with two other tentacles, a faraway look in his eye.

"I remember when I was your age. I found the girl of my dreams, and the sight of the star I was going to give her practically made my soul leap out of my chest," he sighs. "She was thrilled, and I ended up marrying her half a year later."

The monster shakes his head and refocuses, chuckling as he takes in the kid and my bro's dumbfounded faces.

"Sorry, kiddos. These two crystals belong only to this fine fellow and his bound-to-be-stunning partner," he says. Then he gives me a smile and beckons me forwards, tapping the top of the display with another tentacle. "So. You've already picked out a chain. That's half the battle, right there. Next step is to decide on how to cut these beauties here. May I?"

He holds two tentacles out to me, and I uneasily place the two glowing stones into his grip. He notices my discomfort, and gives me a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, son," the elderly monster says, holding them up to inspect them. "I'll take good care of them. I have years of practice under my belt."

I take a deep breath, and nod.

"Right. Thanks," I murmur.

He turns the two crystals as he looks at them, making them sparkle in the light.

"These are very nice quality," he notes, scrutinizing him. "There are a few impurities within the stones—that's those bubbles there—but those are actually giving them a very unique look. As to how it should be cut... they're of a very irregular shape. If I were to make them into a diamond shape, I would also have to make them significantly smaller."

He points out how the uncut crystals are slightly lumpy, and how it'd be difficult to shape them normally.

"So I would suggest making them into a more... unique shape. That way, you preserve as much as the stone as you can," he suggests. "Maybe a symbol that holds meaning for the two of you? It doesn't matter how difficult it may be to cut—my magic can handle just about anything."

"A shape, huh?" I ask thoughtfully, rubbing my mandible. "Well... a heart, maybe?"

"I could do that," he confirms.

"Then, I guess—"

"MMM!" Frisk exclaims, shaking her head. "No! No, Dunkle, don't do that! That's so boring!"

I sigh, and press my palms hard against my eyesockets. I just want this whole thing to be over. Why does a date have to have so much prep involved?!

"What, you have a better idea?" I ask tiredly.

"MmmHmm~" she hums. She bounces up to the counter, and grabs one of the jeweler's business cards and a nearby pen. She sketches out a shape, and then shows it to me.

I stare at it for a moment, and for reasons I don't quite understand, a sense of unease comes over me. It's a four-pointed star, like one of those stylized things that you see a lot around Christmas time. I don't know why she chose this, of all things... but whatever it is, it's making me feel... strange.

All of a sudden, a memory surfaces. I'm in the Judgement Hall, slumped against a pillar. My breath comes in gasps, and sweat is rolling down the side of my skull. And then, in the distance... a four-pointed flash of light, and the silhouette of a person... Just as quickly as it comes, the memory disappears again. The feeling of dread that it brings doesn't go away easily, though.

"U-Uh... kid?" I ask shakily. "What... what's that s'pposed to be, huh?"

She looks at the paper for a long moment, and then turns to look up at me.

"I dunno, exactly," she admits. "I sometimes saw these things around, when I first fell down here. They were really weird. Whenever I went up to one, it made me feel better if I was hurt. It was warm... and made me feel safe. Just like Sis does! And you too, Dunkle. You make me feel safe and happy."

"I've never seen one of these things," I say uncertainly.

"I know. I don't think anyone else does. I don't even see them anymore..." she says. "They disappeared all of a sudden. But the point is, I liked them, and they gave me the courage to keep going. That's why I think it'd be a good shape—it means something good, and it's pretty, too. Don't you think?"

I stare at the design a little bit longer, trying to make up my mind.

I mean... I don't have any better ideas.

The longer I look at it, the stranger I feel. It's not bad this time, though. It's more of a... a warm fuzzy feeling. Like (Y/N) just gave me a hug from behind, and whispered something cute in my ear.

"You know what? Alright. Let's do it."