Flipping the script(swapfell)part 1

chapter 11

Three months into their new arrangement, and Sans couldn't believe just how great it was working out for him and Papyrus.

Truthfully, it was a good bit of extra work on Sans's part; he HAD claimed full responsibility and control over Papyrus, and dear GODS, was it a mess to clean up. Even though Papyrus did as he was told and had the rest of the Guard shouldering more responsibilities to lessen the burden of his own, there was still the cleanup of backlash that proclamation caused.

Between newly-appointed jobs being done poorly and cases of outright insubordination, Papyrus was still a nervous wreck coming home, but at least he was COMING HOME so Sans could help bleed him of his trauma right away instead of letting it simmer and poison Papyrus further into that pool of depression. Sans now had much more information to work with to fix those problems, and to fix them ASAP.

Papyrus seemed to be improving a little, as far as his demeanor went. The crying spells were much fewer and Sans strove to give Papyrus as little time as possible to delve back into depressive habits. Be it giving instruction on how to more evenly disperse the workload in the Guard or keeping up their continuous game through odd play, Papyrus had little free time for dark thoughts to clog up his mind.

Things improved for Sans, too. He was loathe to leave his assertiveness back at home, so he continued to bring it with him to work, and was he ever glad he did. Undyne rarely bothered him with bullshit anymore—though she didn't let up completely, she enjoyed making EVERYONE'S lives more difficult—and the other Royal Scientists steered clear of him entirely.

His theoretical work was improving as well, and he was amassing something proper for Queen Toriel to review and approve of. And since he didn't have a share of everyone else's work to waste his time, he instead used his new mass of free time to helping Papyrus, taking proper lunch times at the garbage dump in finding new inspirational items for their play, and crafting them out to perfection in his office.

It was always fun surprising Papyrus with something new every week. Sometimes it was a new toy or a new routine for them to try; last week, he unveiled a 'uniform' of sorts to Papyrus that took the better part of the past three months to create in his spare time. It was nothing entirely fancy, but something that differed greatly from what Sans normally wore. A black cutoff leather top and shorts he crafted himself paired with spare leather boots and gloves he managed to pilfer from the Guard uniform stores still made for something jarring to see, quite the difference from his usual khakis and button-down shirts.

There was also something more satisfying about stalking around in shoes with a heel too, though Sans kept that to himself lest he be accused of height envy.

Still, he was glad Papyrus liked it, as self-indulgent as it was. Instead of amusement, Papyrus looked him over with near-worship, and seemed more eager than ever for play, all the more willing to service his Lord.

Ah, gods, that honorific that Papyrus had bestowed upon him. Call it his ego, but something just CHANGED when Papyrus called him that, the title falling from his tongue like a prayer to a god with all the respect and devoutness one would give to a deity. Truly, he FELT like a god, as much as Papyrus worshiped him.

It wasn't just in the bedroom, either. It was in the loving way Papyrus would arrange Sans's food on the plate when it was his turn to cook, how hard he strove to keep things tidy so Sans wouldn't have to keep picking up after him, in the open, trusting way he fell asleep with his head on Sans's lap while they watched TV together.

….but it was also in the way Papyrus would kneel on the floor like the lowliest servant to a king, how he'd remain perfectly steadfast and still while being used as living furniture, how he'd clean Sans's boots with his tongue and then ask what else he could do for his Lord.