Archive of Our Own ^beta

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         Alphys squirmed under your deadpan gaze. An impressive feat considering the massive pile of white fluff napping in her arms. A massive pile of white fluff that was supposedly your best friend’s brother.
         “That’s…”
         “Sans.” she confirmed. “There was an… accident in the lab. I can’t care for him and make an antidote. And with Papyrus out of town-”
         “You need someone to watch him.” You finished, pinching the bridge of your nose.
         While you adored your best friend, his brother, Sans, or Comic as he preferred to be called, had seemed to make it his personal mission to find new and inventive ways to harass you. Papyrus claimed it was how he showed affection. You just thought he got a kick out of making your life difficult.
         You returned your attention to the Maine Coon that was apparently the bane of your existence. “And just how aware is he?”
         Alphys snorted, “Well, he knocked three beakers off the counter, somehow climbed into the microwave to take a nap, and spent a solid hour tormenting our secretary, so I'd say he’s just Sans in a cat body.”
         You chuckled at her dry tone and felt a moment of kinship pass between you and the dinosaur-like monster. “Sounds about right.”
         You turned to take the massive house cat, only to find a pair of vibrant blue eyes already staring at you. Comic’s tail swished lazily as he blinked up at you. You gave him your most unimpressed expression and said, “You’re taking the couch. You pull anything and I’m dunking you in the tub and letting you air dry.”
          Somehow, despite his new feline features, Comic managed to portray the most blatant look of smug amusement you’d ever seen. He jumped down from his lab partner’s embrace and stretched lazily, yawning wide. You sighed as he purred and started rubbing himself against your legs. You just so happened to be wearing black pants.

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           You thought you had been prepared to care for Comic. You’d braced yourself for pranks. You’d anticipated all manner of catty shenanigans. Alphys had left you with several cans of boneless tuna and about fifteen of those lint roller things in preparation for the shedding storm that was likely to emerge.

         You had not expected, however, for Comic to be absolutely. freaking. adorable.

         The minute he had stopped shedding all over your work pants, the fluffy terror had scampered onto your couch and fallen straight back to sleep. After changing, and calling your work to explain the situation (thank the stars they believed you) you spent the next six minutes trying to come to terms with the sudden need to bury your face in the large bundle of cloudy white fluff that was purring loud enough to be mistaken for a motorboat.

         Resisting the urge, you instead snapped a few blackmail pictures and sent them to Papyrus before deciding to get started on something to eat before it got too late. You already had salmon in the oven to be the first half of your dinner. You pulled out some eggs and started the process of hard boiling them. 

        While you waited for your food to cool, you carefully heated up Comic’s tuna in the microwave, wincing every time the fat popped loudly. That was going to be absolute misery to clean. 

         Once the fatty fish was done cooking, you turned around only to almost jump out of your skin. Comic sat innocently on your dinner table, licking his chops and staring at you with the biggest blue eyes you’d ever seen. 

         Half of your salmon was gone.

         You took back everything you had thought about him being cute. He was evil incarnate.

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You glared at your tv, willfully ignoring the pitiful wet mop sitting forlornly by your heater. Comic gave a theatrical shiver to pair with his most pitiful mew. You refused to feel even the slightest bit of sympathy for the food thief. 

He was fine. It wasn’t like he was a real cat. With lots of fur. That could catch colds.

You paused your movie and groaned, tilting your head back to glare curses at the ceiling. “Fine.”

You marched back into the bathroom, careful not to step on the still slick puddles Comic had left behind when he’d bolted from the tub after his impromptu cold dunk. Rustling through your drawers, you found your hair dryer and went to find the ragged butt-munch of a skeleton turned cat. 

“Next time I won't be so nice.” You hissed at him, plugging in the hair dryer. You grimaced when Comic rubbed his still damp face against your hand, purring in thanks. You refused to believe he had learned his lesson. He hadn’t stopped harassing you after you teamed up with Papyrus to dunk an entire bucket of glitter on him. You doubted a little water would dissuade him.

At least you had photos of both. To look back on whenever the urge to strangle the fiend grew too strong to ignore.

The hair dryer worked quickly, and you could only be grateful that Comic didn’t seem to have any snarls in his fur yet. You needed to get him a brush if he was going to stay like that much longer.

You used your hands to rake through his coat as best you could, and while you weren’t sure if it was effective, he certainly enjoyed the ‘petting’ he received.