Chapter Text
Papyrus did not like being hurt.
Not for the usual reasons, either.
…I mean, of course it hurt and in that regard it was painful and uncomfortable but—
…
It wasn’t the worst thing ever. He could think of worse alternatives to him getting a small scratch or a bruise or even a broken bone. Much, much worse than whatever he was feeling in the moment.
It was always the look on his brother’s face that gave him the stinging in his Soul.
“What happened?” he’d asked, upon noticing the scratches and bruises on Papyrus. His eyesockets were darkened, and sad, and the younger skeleton decided not to bring up the crack in his fibula that neither of them could see under his clothes. It wasn’t that severe anyway.
“Nothing!” Papyrus responded, as easy as walking. (…Though, walking was a bit difficult now…) “I just—… Nothing.”
Sans had asked again, and again, but each time Papyrus couldn’t think of a good enough excuse, so all he managed was,
Nothing.
…Maybe he should have come up with something.
But he didn’t want the other kids to get in trouble on his behalf.
And he didn’t want Sans to be any more upset.
When his brother offered to heal the scratches and bruises for him, Papyrus didn’t complain. He simply wished he hadn’t let himself get hurt in the first place.
At least in a not so obvious manner.
At least then, Sans wouldn’t be fussing over him this much…
…
He wasn’t quite sure why Sans was worried, anyway.
Papyrus made the later mistake of forgetting about covering up his limp as he had been doing, accidentally visibly faltering on his own leg in front of his brother—but again, that shouldn’t have been a reason for him to be so concerned. In the end it barely left a scar on Papyrus’s bones.
Sans healed it up all fine. By the end of it, when he pulled him into a gentle hug, the seven year old didn’t complain then, either.
“…Hey…” the older murmured, soft atop Papyrus’s skull. “Can you… Promise me something?”
“Okay.”
“Promise me you’ll tell me whenever you’re hurting.”
That was…
…A silly promise, seven year old Papyrus thought.
Of course he’d tell him whenever he was hurting. Why would he not?
He wasn’t very good at hiding it anyhow, so Sans would know, either way.
He didn’t have to tell him how, or why he was hurting, he figured. That wasn’t part of that promise.
…
But he’d try not to get hurt if he could help it.
“Okay,” Papyrus said, again. “I promise.”
Sans held him just a bit closer.