Colors | Chara x Papyrus

Chapter Nine: Be Intimate with Me

- - -

     Chara rouses from her slumber, unsure of how late it is, but also without a care. There's warmth around her, and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat in her ears. She releases a contented hum, snuggling into the mellowness of the form beneath her.
     There's a grunt, she ignores it, maybe it was herself? Someone clears their throat (multiple times) and Chara wants to return one out of petty spite.
    It's not bright when she opens her eyes. There's a faint, orange tint to everything, conveying the evening.
Clearly, she was at ease, relaxing and trying to be lulled by her own will with added support, so what was so important that she had to be woken up?
     Something shifts her, and she has half a mind (the half that's not asleep) to kick whoever that was.
     "What?" She near growls, attempting to regain consciousness despite a hazy mind and vision.
     They grumble something, and Chara lets it fly overhead, not appreciating their tone, and instead tries to sit up with restrictions. Something is around her, not with a strong grip, but a secure one. Chara wants to keep it there, so she lies back down, the images before her gradually growing clearer.
     "Can you move?" She now sees a short skeleton say.
     Oh. It's just Sans. No one else would be so worked up over seeing her at peace. Chara can recognize that voice anywhere, too, especially when he's upset. Though, that's not what he normally sounds like when angry.
     "No." She just wants to fall back into whatever she was in. "Leave me alone, bonehead."
     That's when something tickles her nose, akin to a strand of incredibly soft hair. She should've known the situation when the air familiarly smelled of cinnamon, and the fabric against her neck was none other than the same of her favorite sweater.
     "Are you pissed that I'm up against your girlfriend? Get over yourself comedian." Chara notices him stiffen, despite the lack of light. She waves her hand dismissively, but it's awkward due to Frisk's hand being intertwined with it.
     She cringes. Sans probably didn't want to see them being so intimate, but it's not like Papyrus was here. Heck, he'd probably like that even less.
     He has yet to let her in, after their one sided conversation, he hasn't said much to her. Any interaction they've had has been brief and confusing. It's the same look every time. One she doesn't understand. Hatred? Understanding? Nothing? Everything?
Chara doesn't get it and is unsure if she even wants to understand Sans' weird antics. Heck, this is one of the first times he's even spoken to her since then! Is this what she gets? A revert back to the same treatment?
"If you just came to aggravate me, then you can leave now."
"I wasn't—" Sans pauses, "I just wanted to—" then falters, "can I—" and eventually gives up. "Never mind."
As he begins to shuffle away Chara darts up. That tone, that look, even that self-resistance. She knows it, she's lived it, and she's conquered it. Now, he will too.
Papyrus has always told her to use her words, but this was not one of those times. With Frisk slowly waking up with furrowed brows from the sudden lack of warmth, Chara grabs Sans by the hoodie and pulls him down to the couch in an awkward heap.
It's weird, it's really weird.
Chara has never been this close to Sans before, or at least, not in this way. He's unbelievably still against her, like he's in permanent shock.
Now that Chara has returned to her, Frisk is out once more, oblivious to the circumstances, something Chara would love to be right now.
It's an agonizing couple of minutes. She can't doze off. Sans is oddly cold, maybe frozen. It's a lot more strange than it should be. He's known to always be lazing about, asleep on the couch or any surface for that matter. Chara's aware that he's a skeleton, a big bag of bones. It's stupid to expect him to be warm and squishy, but somehow she had.
"You're cold." She feels life come back to Sans at the sound of her. It's not long before he responds.
"I'm not exactly warm-blooded," he says, sounding surprisingly sleepy. The comedic edge to his voice is faint.
"Hmm." They linger awake in the silence, Chara glancing aimlessly about the room. "Is this what you wanted?"
     An even longer silence is waited through. Chara almost assumes he dozed off, startled when he speaks.
"Could've done without the slamming into the couch."
"Sorry." Chara adjusts her position in Frisk's arms. "But not really."
"You sure?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"This is weird."
"I know."
"Feels.. wrong."
Chara can't help but ask, "why?"
They return to stillness, the only sounds are distant and likely being made outdoors, muffled and unidentifiable. She can't even tell if he's breathing, all she feels is gentle breath from Frisk, blowing on minimal strands of her hair. Chara wants to ask again, pressure him, speed him up, but she supposes she owes him this.
"I still don't forgive you." His voice is low, dark but not frightening.
"I don't expect you to. I didn't even expect Frisk to. Who knows, maybe she still hasn't, but I wouldn't know." Chara hushes herself, not wanting Frisk to hear even a word of that. She's sure Frisk preserved some form of friendship for her, but forgiveness can be a lot to ask for.
"I can't see you," Sans suddenly says, earning a look of puzzlement from Chara that she now knows he can't see. "Wha—"
"I can't read you. I don't know if you're lying through your teeth to lower my guard, or if you're genuine."
"Harsh."
"I know, but I can't apologize."
"Fair." It is, because the Sans from a month ago would be inclined to throw her sorry self from the couch the second he saw her even a foot near Frisk. Maybe that recurring look did mean something. Something like: "I'm trying."

• • •

The warmth is different when she opens her eyes, immediately shutting them upon exposure to brightness that clearly belonged to the daytime.
There's no cinnamon lingering in the air, or the softness of another body. In fact, it seems to have been switched to roughness and the distinct smell of salted fries.
The realization that there's only one skeleton both observations can be applied to nearly makes Chara force herself from the couch.
Well, she would've if she could.
The second she's close to tumbling off the edge of the couch like a tire over a plush cliff, that warmth from before increases and no part of her is in expected pain.
Chara opens her eyes to find herself enveloped in cerulean with the room upside down.
     There's a moment when a certain hall overtakes her mind. Golden and beautiful, a ruse lit up by gaudy mosaic windows. Its yellow hue left Frisk in awe whenever she arrived, and Chara ignored its royal ambiance. All she could recall was how awfully it had hurt when her head was slammed into one of the Greek pillars.
     The memory makes Chara shudder, and it's no mistake that what's climbing her throat is bile.
     She has to take a deep breath. It's different now. The light is warm and not cold. It holds her in safety, not resent. Chara hovers for minutes, until she's gradually brought back to the couch.
     She catches a glimpse of Sans' sleeping face before she's dropped back into what she assumes to be her original position. Chara is nearly against him, the tip of her nose seldom caressed by a mere fraction of his hoodie.
     This makes sense, she internally decides. They're not quite there yet. There's a level of closeness that's far out of reach, but Chara's more than okay with this. Though she wants Sans to forgive and forget, Chara also needs time to desire true companionship with the sleeping skeleton beside her.
     Like before, she'll be met with unpleasant reminders from the past, where what was once gold was stained with red, and shivering hands were disgraced with thick dust. He must reminisce of those times as well, keeping him away from her, strengthening distrust and vile hatred that had been building up for goodness knows how long.
     Chara releases a sigh that she didn't know she had been holding in, and at its intensity, Sans stirs and his irregular eyelids rise. He blinks, once, twice, then finally notices Chara next to him, who is alarmed by his awakening but keeps her expression soft.
     He gives her that look again, not disdain or abhorrence, but something that Chara can smile at in return, small, redesigning her features in calm thanks.
     I'm trying, they both say.

• • •
Author's Note

Whaaat? No Papyrus? What kind of Papara story is this!
I figured her describing how Papyrus makes her feel in the beginning was enough to know where her heart was headed. Today, however, was time for development, a development that was caused by the one who wasn't even present.
Sans and Chara will get there in time, maybe not even by the end of this fanfic, but it'll end with them in a good place, still distanced by events of the past, but not because they loathe each other to the bone (hahahah I'm funny)

Also...
SORRY THIS IS LATE I HAD SOL TESTING THIS WEEK AND I WAS STRESSED AND ALL THAT STUFF YOU KNOW HOW IT IS

See you sometime next week! Byeee!