Chapter Text
It was a somewhat startling realization one cold morning when Edge reached the conclusion that he didn’t have any friends.
In the Underground, friends were a liability. He had alliances and acquaintances, but friendship was a guaranteed one-way ticket to getting stabbed in the back. He has his brother, and that was the only monster he could trust. It was how they managed to survive.
But he wasn’t in the Underground anymore. For a while now, he’d kept the same mindset, being a mobster wasn’t exactly a friendly enterprise after all. But Red was mafia too, and yet he’d cultivated quite the social circle. His brother was always the more easygoing of them. That laid-back attitude seemed to welcome monsters and humans alike. Edge wasn’t like his brother. He was uptight. He demanded perfection. And he never let his guard down.
...He was also remarkably lonely.
Perhaps that was why Red had invited Edge to play in his band. The elder skeleton brother had gathered together some monsters to play together casually in their basement, and had needled Edge incessantly about joining.
“WHAT IS THE POINT? IT ISN’T AS IF WE COULD PROFIT OFF OF WHATEVER RACKET YOU CALL MUSIC.” Edge grumbled irritably. He only grew more dour as Red blew a loud, low-pitched ‘WHAAAAAAA’ from his trombone right in Edge’s face.
“it ain’t about money, it’s about cutting loose and jammin’ with the boys.” Edge raised a brow bone dubiously, glancing back at the assembled bandmates; A golden dragon tuning her large ornate double bass, a smaller skeleton with pitch-black bones trying (and failing) to juggle his drum sticks, not helped by a small bird-like monster intent on bonking her tambourine against his skull, and another exhausted-looking skeleton who’d just arrived, still in his nursing scrubs and readying his trumpet. A most motley and disorganized crew Edge had ever seen. “metaphorical boys, you know what i mean.” Red corrected himself with a lazy wave of his hand, “look, i know you’re allergic ta fun, but your sax is sittin’ in the attic collectin’ dust. who knows, maybe you’ll impress someone with your playin’. sax is the sexiest instrument.” Red winked and shot Edge some finger guns.
With a deep sigh, Edge rolled his eyelights and conceded. “FINE.” he spat the word, “I SUPPOSE I CAN INDULGE IN YOUR LITTLE HOBBY.”
“heh, i promise it’ll be a good time.” Red grinned, and for once it didn’t seem forced.
Red had been right, it was fun to play together. Music was a universal language all of them spoke, though perhaps not always the most fluently. But when everything did manage to click, it was a wonderful escape. They mostly played jazz covers of popular tunes, but there was always a section where everyone, as Red so aptly put it, ‘let loose’; Each band member would improvise, building off one another, mimicking runs or melodies but with their own personal flair. Edge loved making music, but could not say the same about making acquaintances with his fellow instrumentalists. He didn’t think he could consider any of the fellow band members “friends” exactly, especially considering the black skeleton and his little feathered friend were part of a rival family. But even if they hadn’t been, Edge wasn’t exactly tempted to get to know any of them later.
“Did you guys wanna grab some ice cream?” The bird/dragon/feather duster named Ari asked when the hour had grown late, “I’ll bet we can get there before it closes if we head over now.”
“I’m lactose intolerant.” V, the black skeleton muttered, and Ari responded by fluttering over to her bag and digging through it like a secretary bird hunting a snake.
“I’d love to come.” Sora, the golden dragon answered, their tail swishing back and forth.
“I’ll pass, I’m ready to crash for the night. Maybe next time Ari?” the other skeleton replied, cleaning out the spit-valve to his trumpet.
“Yeah, I know you had a long shift Roman, thanks for coming tonight.” she’d found the bottle of lactaid pills, yeeting the small bottle at V who fumbled it.
“i’m down, you comin’ bro?” Red asked, and Edge felt eyes and eyelights alike looking up at him expectantly.
“YOU WANT TO FRATERNIZE WITH THE ENEMY?” He said, deflecting the question.
“it’s ice cream, not an orgy invite.” Red deadpanned.
“Unless you want it to be.” Ari piped, waggling her brows suggestively.
“Ew, Ari, no!” V hissed, shaking the cackling monster.
Hooligans. The whole lot of them.
“I MUST DECLINE. I HAVE...WORK TO DO. I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR SOMETHING SO FRIVOLOUS AS ICE CREAM.” Edge shouted before stomping back upstairs.
He’d let his guard down too much already. They got to see a side of him only his brother had before. They saw him swaying his hips as he played his saxophone, caught up in the music and belting out notes like he was barring his Soul. When he could drop the persona of The Great and Terrible Papyrus and instead, simply be, and get lost in a song.
He needed to get out of the house. Edge normally didn’t go out besides shopping for groceries, buying food and toys to spoil Doomfanger with, and of course, work. With nowhere in mind he let his feet carry him to the only place he knew would be serving patrons at this hour. The building was completely unassuming, brick with a faded painted sign advertising a butcher shop that had long since closed down. As he opened the door to the shop an older gray-muzzled dog monster looked up from behind the counter, waving Edge through without a second glance, turning back to watching an MMT special on an ancient TV set. The shop was full of old VCRs, recording equipment, and old speakers covered in dust.
Really, Edge was surprised the used electronics store still passed as some kind of legitimate business.
Without a word, he strode past the counter and down a dim hallway, wallpaper peeling off and the carpet worn bare. He descended a flight of stairs and around a corner into a dimly lit, but well-kept bar.
Grillby’s speakeasy wasn’t exactly the most refined establishment, but it did lean more ‘classy’ than ‘dated’. Edge wasn’t a frequent proprietor, though he had been here many, many times before for business deals or social obligations. This was the only time in recent memory he’d gone by himself, for no other purpose than...
A connection. Even a brief one, with no strings and no further obligations than a night of indulgences. Someone who didn’t know his name, his connections, or his reputation. A way to satisfy the itch and nothing more.
Strolling up to the bar as if he owned the place, Edge scoped the bar to see what the selection for tonight would be. Very limited, it turned out. There was a bunny monster snoring loudly at one end, only one other monster. A skeleton monster. He was lanky, a similar build to Edge but more willowy, and softer features. He was wearing an old, well-loved orange hoodie that had patches of blue stars repairing past wounds to the cloth. His posture was atrocious, spine bent like a banana and shoulders slumped.
The first thought that popped into Edge’s mind was ‘ He is definitely not my type ’ and the second was ‘but...’ But he was cute, with orange freckles that dotted his face, and a soft grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth while he idly chewed on a straw. His eyes were heavily lidded, the same expression one might get lounging in a hot tub permanently plastered onto his skull.
“IS THIS SEAT FREE?” Edge asked, his voice steady from years of having to maintain complete composure dealing with rivals and enemy gangs.
“not anymore, pop a squat, pal.” the skeleton said, ‘pat, pat’-ing his hand on the empty stool beside him.
Edge thanked him as he eased himself down into the chair. The other skeleton had turned in his seat to get a good look in, his skull rested on his palm while he gave Edge the once-over. His expression didn’t shift, the easygoing air and soft grin not budging an inch. Edge wasn’t sure if he was impressed or insulted, considering his powerful frame and scarred skull usually never failed to garner a second look.
“i’m stretch.” he introduced himself
“EDGE.” he replied, and at that, Stretch’s grin did grow a bit wider.
“heh, that’s a fitting name. you could cut glass on those cheekbones.”
“I’VE BEEN TOLD MY ANGULAR FEATURES ARE CONSIDERED ATTRACTIVE.”
Stretch chuckled, all light and soft, and something stirred in Edge’s rib cage at the sound. “they ain’t wrong, pal.”
It seemed Edge wasn’t totally useless at navigating this encounter.
“CAN I BUY YOU ANOTHER DRINK?” he asked, gesturing to the empty glass. Stretch wasn’t looking at him, but his hand for some odd reason.
“i can’t say no to that face.” Stretch finally looked back up at him, speaking the words in so casual a manner that Edge couldn’t tell if he was flirting or joking. Damn, this skeleton was difficult to read. Except, ever so faintly, Edge saw the lights blush of orange magic coloring those beautifully freckled cheekbones.
They looked like constellations, like someone had dipped a paintbrush into the heavens and painted stars on his skull.
Edge blinked, fighting to regain control of his wayward thoughts, clearing his non-existent throat and flagging Grillby over. Gruffly, he ordered another round for Stretch, and some bourbon for himself. “JUST PUT IT ON MY TAB.” he growled, unable to restrain the bite in his tone.
“you come here often?” Stretch asked as the reserved fire elemental walked away.
“YES, FOR BUSINESS.”
“but not for pleasure.” Stretch cleverly deduced.
“NOT TYPICALLY, NO.” Edge shifted in his seat, attempting to shift the conversation under his control, “I DON’T THINK I’VE EVER SEEN YOU HERE BEFORE.”
“nah, it’s my first time.” Stretch gave him a little wink and it took all of Edge’s willpower to restrain his magic from lighting up his skull. “normally i prefer to hang around muffet’s place, but grillby’s has some more agreeable hours of operation. and besides, grillbs makes a mean milkshake. speak of the devil.”
Grilly had returned, placing a rocks glass with bourbon in front of Edge, and a milkshake complete with whipped cream and a bright red cherry.
“cheers, pal.” Stretch said as he lifted his glass, and Edge lifted his, a muted ‘clink’ of glass ringing in the nearly empty bar, “to pleasure.”
Well, this was not how he saw this night going.
Stretch was a sugar fiend. The milkshake was quickly consumed, and Edge offered him a second one. And then a third.
“WHERE ARE YOU PUTTING ALL OF THOSE?” Edge questioned as the other skeleton began sipping the fourth milkshake. Stretch was surrounded by straw wrappers, having chewed the plastic straws until they were mangled after each drink.
“secret pocket dimension. i can show you later if you want.” Stretch rested his hand on Edge’s thigh, giving him a light squeeze, “i’d love to show you some gratitude for sweetening me up.”
Stretch had become increasingly touchy and flirtatious as the night had worn on. Edge was doing a poor job of hiding just how flustered he was, but at that comment he smirked, sharp teeth cutting a sharp smile.
“OH? WHY DON’T YOU SHOW ME NOW. HM?” Edge dipped a phalange into the whipped cream of the milkshake, smearing a bit on his teeth. Stretch’s eyes lit, and he straightened up to meet Edge’s taller height. There wasn’t any hesitation, Stretch cupping his cheek and leaning in for an eager kiss. Edge felt a delicious thrill of Stretch’s tongue lathe over his teeth before delving into his mouth. Sweet whipped cream mixed with the sweetness of honey and bitter orange rind to form a flavor Edge couldn’t get enough of. He placed a hand on the back of Stretch’s skull, tugging him closer and rolling his tongue into Stretch’s mouth, licking and caressing every square inch he could reach. There was something else there, the scent of alcohol on Stretch’s breath-
The sound of a crackling and hissing fire combined with the clattering of a small plastic tray hitting the bartop brought Edge straight back to reality. He pulled away from Stretch, turning to see a very annoyed Grillby, his purple flames turning blue at the tips.
“... ... ...Get a room.”
Edge grumbled, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the appropriate amount of gold. Glancing over the receipt he saw a much higher bill than expected.
“ THAT MUCH FOR A MILKSHAKE?” Edge balked, “ARE YOU TRYING TO RIP ME OFF?”
Grillby silently pointed to the receipt, tapping next to the line item, “Boozy Milkshake (Salted Caramel)”. Edge glanced back at Stretch whose face was completely flushed, a sloppy grin adorning his face. No wonder he’d started getting more handsy, he was drunk! And Edge had been the one to liquor him up.
He groaned, cursing at himself for going through with this stupid plan.
Edge dumped a small pile of gold onto the plastic tray, growling at Grillby; “DON’T SPEAK A WORD OF THIS TO SANS.” With that he got up, helping the drunken Stretch to his feet and guiding them away from the bar and back up the stairs.
“you gonna take me back to your place?” Stretch asked, a giggle chasing his words.
“NO. YOURS. WHERE DO YOU LIVE?”
“tsk, so forward. you’re not supposed to give away where you live on a first date. especially to a sugar daddy.” he purred, wrapping his arm around Edge’s waist.
“THIS ISN’T A DATE AND I’M NOT YOUR DADDY!”
“not yet.”
“STRETCH! WHERE. DO. YOU. LIVE?”
“the flower shop, daddy. ”
“YOU LIVE IN A FLOWER SHOP?” Edge barked, entirely unamused.
Stretch pouted, having failed to get the response he wanted. He was far more expressive when he’d had a couple (or five) drinks in him. “above the flower shop. it’s not too far from here, c’mon, I know a shortcut.” Stretch suddenly tugged Edge close, arms circling around his torso in a close embrace.
Edge’s eye sockets went wide realizing what was about to happen, “STRETCH, NO! DON’T-”
Before he could finish the sentence, Edge felt himself tumbling and falling through darkness. The teleport had all the grace of a car diving off a cliff, and for a moment Edge was concerned that he’d be falling for the rest of eternity. Fortunately, that didn’t happen, but unfortunately, he found himself crashing down onto some bushes, back-first, and Stretch re-entering existence a moment later by landing right on top of Edge. He groaned, tasting bile and a terrible headache coming on.
“sorry,” Stretch grumbled, looking much worse for wear, a tinge of green creeping up his cheeks.
“OH STARS...” Edge scrambled out of the bush with Stretch in his arms, turning the other skeleton to face away from him just in time to avoid a vomited stream of orange magic. Stretch retched into the foliage as Edge rubbed back and forth along his spine.
“heh, so much for a first date, huh?” Stretch laughed miserably once the contents of his figurative stomach were emptied, “oh shit, I got some on your sleeve. fuck, that looks like an expensive shirt, sorry.”
“IT WAS.” Edge sighed, “YOU LIVE IN THIS BUILDING?” he tilted his skull towards the older brick building, a closed flower shop on the first floor and what appeared to be apartments on the second.
“yeah, you can just shove me back into this bush and pretend we never met, that’d be great.” Stretch groaned.
“I’M QUITE SURE YOU’VE INSULTED THE BUSH ENOUGH, I WON’T ASSAULT IT A SECOND TIME.” Edge bent down to pick up Stretch, who startled as he was lifted off the ground. “I NEED TO WASH MY SHIRT BEFORE THE STAIN SETS, SO IF YOU WOULD KINDLY SHOW ME THE WAY INSIDE.”
Stretch blinked in utter confusion before relenting and directing Edge to the back door that led up to the second floor apartments. Not breaking stride, Edge carried his cargo to the darkened bedroom and laid Stretch down on his bed. There was only a weakly mumbled objection, especially when Edge started removing Stretch’s shoes, but the mobster paid the ha;f-hearted arguments no mind.
“HOLD THIS IN CASE THERE’S A ROUND TWO.” Edge said as he pushed a waste bin into Stretch’s hands, “I’LL BE RIGHT BACK.”
Edge plucked open the buttons on his dress shirt and quickly shucked the article of clothing off as he entered the kitchen. Thankfully there weren’t too many dishes left in the sink so he could rinse the vomit off his shirt. By the time Edge had everything cleaned off, his shirt was nearly totally saturated. He sighed and searched around for some clean glasses, and instead found a hoard of novelty plastic cups one got at an amusement park. Whatever, it would do. He filled the oversized cup with water before returning to Stretch.
Stretch was looking at him with boggled eyes, or rather, looking at his shirtless torso.
“WHERE IS YOUR DRYER?” he asked, holding the cup out to Stretch. The other skeleton was zoned out for a good five seconds before his brain seemed to boot back up and he readily accepted the cup so quickly he almost spilled the water.
“we don’t have one, just the clothes line out back.” Stretch answered after a few gulps.
Edge resisted the urge to smash his face against the wall. Great, now he was stuck here unless he wanted to go home wearing a soaking wet shirt. Despite his drunkenness, Stretch caught on quickly.
“iI don’t mind sharing my bed.” Stretch scooted over to make room for Edge.
“I DON’T WANT TO GET PUKED ON, THANK YOU.”
“i’m feeling loads better, i won’t toss my cookies twice. i’m sure having you here will make everything better too.” Stretch said with a seductive look.
“I AM NOT HAVING SEX WITH YOU WHILE YOU’RE DRUNK.”
“aw, you really are a sweetheart. but i’ll bet you make a really good big spoon.”
“I’M SLEEPING ON YOUR COUCH.” Edge grumped, entirely done with this whole situation.
“no, wait-” Stretch grabbed Edge’s wrist just as he’d turned to leave. Edge aimed a red glare down at him. In the dim lighting, Stretch’s freckles and faintly glowing eyelights looked like distant stars. “look, the couch has a spring sticking out. i’m just fucking with you--well, not in that sense--i mean, i’d like too, but i’m wasted and you probably think i’m a loser, but i’ll cut through the bullshit and say i’d like you to sleep here with me.” Stretch rambled on before coming to the abrupt end, “just stay with me.”
The mask was off. Stretch’s easygoing, joking facade had crumbled and something vulnerable was laid bare.
“...OKAY.” Edge relented after a time. He couldn’t explain what made him stay with this strange skeleton. “OKAY, I’LL STAY.”
“thanks.” Stretch whispered, letting go of Edge’s wrist so he could kick his own shoes off and climb into bed. Stretch attempted to give the larger skeleton some more room, but Edge grabbed at him, tugging Stretch against his chest.
“FOR THE RECORD, I AM THE FUCKING BEST BIG SPOON.”
Stretch woke up to the feeling of having his skull pounded in by several baseball bats. He didn’t really drink that often, he had other drugs of choice, but for some reason he’d gotten fucking sloshed last night. Something to do with that weird bar...
...The tall, sexy guy from last night! The one who looked straight out of a fashion magazine and had cheekbones that could cut glass.
“Edge!” Stretch groaned, attempting to stumble out of bed, and nearly faceplanting onto the floor. Clawing himself back onto the bed, he noticed that it was empty. No sexy hunk to be seen.
He’d fucked it up. As usual. Edge had been looking to score and instead, he had to babysit a drunk buffoon who puked in the lilac bush. He had to be taken care of, just as he always did, he was so fucking stupid--
Before he could get into a proper bout of self-flagellation, he noticed a note on his bedside table, along with some more water and a couple of painkillers.
It was a phone number.