Chapter Text
"Whoa!"
You almost drop your wrench as you whip yourself back and upright. You were sitting on your knees, straddling the right engine of one of the charter planes the company you worked for owned.
You furrow your brow as your free hand goes to your sternum, fingertips gently applying pressure. Confusion is obvious on your face as you try to figure out what that feeling was.
It was like like a small splash of ice water just under your ribs with a fluttering sensation almost like you'd been tickled from within.
"What the fuck?" You mumble as you rub over your heart. The cold fluttering is gone and if it wasn't for the slight warmth in its place you'd have thought the sensation was imagined. You clear your throat. Maybe you should cut back on all the caffeine.
Echoing voices and footsteps brings you back to reality, though your hand doesn't move. You look across the hangar and see your boss, the company owner, Mr. Dale Cho, escorting some VIPs around.
That's right, the company had just secured new contracts with the human ambassador for monsters as well as the monster royal family. This was a big deal. Your charter plane company wasn't small or unknown by any means, but royal clientele meant more publicity and additional contracts. Christmas bonuses should be good this year.
You watch Mr. Cho show off some of the nicest small planes in the fleet. You give a small snort as you remember having to tow in and buff those jets over the last few days. Everything had to be sparkling. Your hands were still a bit sore and smelled of aero-polish.
It was a group of 5 that were getting the tour. A small child whom you assumed was the human ambassador; 2 large goat-like monsters with a regal air about them. They must be the royals. You raise a brow at the way the Queen would subtlety glare daggers at the King whenever he got too close to her.
And finally, two skeletons dressed very oddly indeed. A short one in a blue hoodie with basketball shorts and, were those pink fuzzy slippers? In a hangar? You wiggled your toes absent-mindedly in your steel-toe work boots.
Your eyes settle on the last of the party. A tall skeleton wearing what looked to be some type of brightly colored and bulky armor. A red scarf hung around his shoulders and he seemed a bit unsettled. Was he sweating? How was that possible?
A few errant beats of your heart make you tense slightly; that warm feeling ever-present. You clear your throat again and shook your head. Leaning back over the open panel on top of the engine you try to get back to work. You were paid to turn wrenches, not to gawk at celebrities. You had seen more than your fair share and these people were no different even though they were some of the few monster clients you knew of.
Mettaton was definitely the most notable monster to use the services of your company, though he owned his owned jets and rented your hangar space to store them. You'd worked a few small jobs on his jets but nothing major. His aircraft were really top of the line.
You wonder if it had been Mettaton to recommend such high-profile monsters to you. Would that be racist to assume they knew each other? Or was it speciest?
Whatever it was, you brush it away as you rub your brow on your shoulder, wiping away sweat. This warm fuzzy feeling certainly wasn't helping either.
You feel the wrench slip off the bolt as you apply too much pressure at a bad angle; your knuckles smashing against the steel engine body below you. You grunt to keep from cussing in the echoing hangar. Sitting back up you look at your knuckles. Scuffed up, no blood but it'll definitely bruise. You sigh deeply as you gather your tools. Feels like lunchtime anyway.
You slowly slide over the side of the engine and onto the maintenance stand next to it. Putting your tools away in their cut-out spots in your toolbox, you stand and flex your legs causing your knees to pop and groan from being bent for hours. Slowly descending the ladder you walk across the polished hangar floor to the employee break room.
Just shy of the door you feel the ice water shoot through your body from your chest again. A stifled gasp leaves your lips as you stop. The fluttering sensation is back and a bit stronger. Your hand comes back to your sternum as your brow furrows. Were you having a heart attack?
A flash of red movement draws your eye and you look over your shoulder. The tall skeleton stands over you with worry on his face. How could a skull be so expressive? You are close enough to see that he is indeed sweating.
You both just stand there staring at each other, seconds dragging on like minutes. The warm tickles beneath your chest unending. A shiver passes through your shoulders and you clear your throat and smile. With your best customer service voice you address the skeleton.
"Um, hello. Is there anything I can help you with?"
He looks down at you. He had to be at least 6 and a half feet to tower over you. And you were not short by any means at 5 foot 10. He opens his mouth to speak.
"You Hurt Your Hand."
You blink a few times; your grin falling.
"How did you know that?"
At that moment your boss approaches with the rest of the VIP group. His usual chipper mood and blinding smile ever present.
"Ah, I see you've met one of our mechanics. This is Rae, one of our senior avionics technicians."
Your cockeyed grin is back as you nod and smile warmly at everyone. They all return the gesture. Your boss continues.
"Rae here has some of the best fix rates around. No job too big or too small for our maintenance techs to fix it fast and the right way on the first go. Just don't get in-between her and her lunch or you'll loose a hand, haha!"
Ever the salesman Mr. Cho's boisterous laughter is echoed by the King. Your smirk doesn't drop but you cringe internally. He genuinely means what he says but being complimented always made you feel uncomfortable.
"Yes sir. Heart of gold and a stomach of cast iron." You give a half-hearted chuckle. "I was actually on my way to grab lunch as a matter of fact." You point a thumb towards the break room door behind you.
"Well, we won't keep you." He turns back to his tour group. "Shall I show you the private hangars we have should you prefer to store your own personal aircraft with us?"
The group returns to shop talk and banter as you mentally thank your boss for the way out. You were about to turn around when you notice the tall skeleton still staring at you. Had he been doing that this whole time?
"Um," You stammer, "It was a pleasure meeting you Mr..." your customer service voice back on.
He looked at you like you bewilder and terrify him. "Papyrus." He said.
"Well, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day Mr. Papyrus." You say earnestly.
"Please, Just Papyrus. And The Pleasure Is All Mine Miss Rae."
Before you can comprehend what was happening, he reaches out and takes your hand in his gloves one to shake it, and as soon as the contact was made you feel the rush of ice, and your heart seems to thump rapidly out of rhythm beneath your breast.
You both let go and look at your hands, then back at each other. Papyrus is sweating more and the warm fuzzies are back, spreading to your cheeks in a deep blush. Papyrus tries to speak.
"I,...Uh,...Neh." He stammers. You cut him off.
"I'm sorry, but I have to go. See you around Papyrus." And with a quick nod, you dash through the break room door and walk briskly past your coworkers Chuck and Bob who are sitting around a table enjoying pizza. They watch you disappear into the back room where the lockers and restrooms are. Both men then turn to look at each other and shrug, returning their full attention to the monster football game on the screen.
As you reach your locker, you open it and grab for your personal first aid kit, taking two Tylenol. You pop them in your mouth and take a swig from you water bottle that is also in your locker.
You pull your phone from your pocket as you go to sit at the table with your lunchbox, typing 'heart attack symptoms' in the search bar.
You try not to think about the strange skeleton as the warmth in your chest ebbs, but somehow you just can't get his name out of your mind.
While convincing yourself that you are not going to die soon accord to Dr. Google, you mentally scoff at yourself. What are you, 12? Since when have you ever not been able to get a man's name out of your head? Not only was he associated with what maybe one of your highest paying clients, he isn't even your type. This day just keeps getting weirder.
Your coworkers begin to cheer loudly at the game as you think for a moment that you can hear yelling out in the hagar. You open your lunchbox. Not your problem now, you're off the clock.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Papyrus stood staring at the door you had rushed through. The fluttering of his soul still strong in his chest even as the feel of magic surging through his fingertips was disappearing.
The group had begun to wander along on their tour as he stood rooted to the spot. Save for one figure in blue who stayed with him.
"Ya alright bro?" Sans asked with a touch of concern in his baritone voice. "I've never seen ya so quiet for so long. You were fine til we walked in the hangar"
Papyrus spun around quick as a flash.
"SANS!!!!!!!" He screamed into his brother's face. Sweat poured from his skull and his bones clicked together as he shook.
"Ah, there ya are."
"SANS! THAT HUMAN,....RAE, SHE MADE ME FEEL ... THINGS!!"
"What d'ya mean bro? Did she say somethin mean to ya?" The shorter skeleton asked. His sockets narrowed subtly as he asked his last question.
"NO, FUNNY IN A GOOD WAY, BUT IT WAS SO...STRANGE. I'VE NEVER FELT WHAT I'M FEEL BEFORE! IT WAS LIKE MY SOUL WAS TRYING TO FLY RIGHT OUT OF MY CHEST!" Papyrus clutched both his gloved hands to his chest.
"Whoa, whoa. Slow down, buddy. What are ya tryin to say?" Sans brought his hands out of his pocket to put them up in an attempt to calm his towering brother.
"SANS, I,...I THINK I JUST MET MY SOULMATE!!!!" His cheekbones flushed a brilliant orange hue.
It was Sans' turn to start sweating now.
"Hoo boy"