#hold her hand directly? nope. he's gotta slide his hand down her entire forearm and draw her in close

[pearlcaddy]

anthony lockwood + the hand slide

[tyranttortoise]

Happy Birthday, Whisper!

Heeeeeyyy, today is @with-a-whisper‘s birthday, and I love her. <3   So enjoy a quick drabble.  Most of it’s under a cut.  I know mobile’s kinda been wonky with those lately.

Swapfell Papyrus / Reader ( SFW )

"hey darlin'.  what'll it be tonight?  another rum and coke, hold the rum?"

You can't help but grin as you slide onto the bar seat of you new favorite restaurant and prop your arms on the bar.  You had stumbled across this place by accident one day, when you were lost on the monster side of the city and ducked inside to both get your bearings and satisfy your growling stomach.  

You never expected it to be run entirely by skeleton monsters.

It had been an interesting evening, with enough excitement to bring you back on a weekly basis.  Of course, besides the entertainment that came from their strong personalities both clashing yet somehow seamlessly working together, one skeleton in particular had caught your eye.

Rus.

"Not tonight," you smugly claim and pull out your ID between two fingers.  Leaning over the bar in excitement, you inform him, "It's my birthday."

He plucks the ID from your fingers and studies it for a moment -- giving you a chance to study him.  He wore a crisp, black dress shirt and slacks, though the top button of his shirt has been left undone and his sleeves are rolled to expose his forearms..  Both his suspenders and his loose tie are a dark orange, the same color as the bright embers glowing within his eyesockets.  

His eyes flick up from your ID just in time to catch you staring, and his lazy smirk quirks up.  "finally old enough by human standards to see my magic at work.  congrats on another year of livin'."  He hand the plastic card back to you, and you quirk a brow.  That's a strange way to put it.

"Is that the monster way of saying happy birthday?"

"it is where i'm from," he replies simply, already in the process of gathering supplies behind the bar.  "ok, i'm gonna go easy on ya the first drink, see what you like."

"I can handle whatever you can dish out," you reply in challenge, which causes him to chuckle.

"sure, but it's no fun if you're sloppy drunk off the first one."

You watch him mix the drink, his fingers deftly moving.  He's wearing fingerless gloves, but from what you've been able to tell, the palms have a special grip to them to give him better grip on the glasses.  It allowed him to do his tricks with ease; he tosses a bottle behind his back with one hand, and then catches it with the other, all without ever taking his eyes off the task at hand.  

"Show-off," you mutter fondly, and he winks.

"whatever gets me tips."

On more than one occasion, you've come in to find money stuffed into the waistband of his pants or down the collar of his shirt.  You didn't realize so many people would be attracted to a skeleton monster, but he draws quite the crowd -- especially on ladies' night.  

As he directs that killer, carefree grin your way, slides the glass toward you, and leans in close over the bar, you realize that you're lopped right in there with them with wanting to jump his literal bones.  A warm flush creeps to your cheeks before you've even had a single sip.  

"it's a magic mojito."

"What's in it?" you question, picking up the glass and giving it a quick sniff.  It's minty in a subtle kind of way. Upon closer inspection, you also realize that the drink is faintly glowing; at first, you had thought it was just a trick of the low lighting at the bar.

"rum, syrup, mint, lime, and sea tea.  give it a sip."

Sea tea?  You've never heard of it, so maybe that explains the glow.  Holding his gaze, you lift the glass and take a long sip.  You can't taste the alcohol, but if you had to describe the drink, it would be cool and refreshing.  

"It's not what I expected," you admit as you lower the glass.  "But it's tasty."

"not much alcohol in that one, but don't worry, we're just gettin' started."  He smirks, turning to grab another bottle and then reach beneath the bar for more supplies.  You sip on your drink, enjoying the taste.

He mixes two liquids together, pours them into another canister, and then tosses it into the air.  It doesn't fall, instead levitating with a soft blue glow around it, turning end-over-end while he waves his finger in a lazy circle.  Your eyes light up at the display; you've seen him use magic plenty since you've started coming here and watching him work, but it never ceases to impress you.  

With a cocky smirk, he snaps his fingers and the shaker cracks open over the glass.  The concoction inside is a swirl of blue and green.  "murky waters," he clarifies as he pushes the drink in front of you.  As an afterthought, he garnishes it with a little umbrella that doesn't quite go with the glass but makes you laugh.  

You've finished your mojito, so you exchange your empty glass for the new one. "Yeah, because drinking murky water is really appealing," you quip before you take a sip. Something pops into your mouth from the drink and your eyes widen in surprise.  Your teeth sink into it, and you realize that it seems to be a blueberry with quite the strong taste.

"you never know what's lurkin' in murky waters," Rus comments with an amused chuckle, watching your expression carefully.  "in this case, it was a vodka-infused blueberry.  that one's got echoflower wine and crabapple beer, mixed with sours."

You could definitely taste the alcohol in this one.  Well, you did tell him to bring it on and step up his game.  "Now you're just trying to get me drunk," you teasingly accuse, while he just grins and shrugs a shoulder.

"just doin' my job, darlin'."

"How long have you been bartending?" you ask, while you sip this drink at a slower pace than the mojito.  You hadn't eaten much today, so your head is already starting to feel pleasantly buzzed.  

"not long.  jus' since m'lord wanted to open this place up."  You quirk a brow at the term m'lord.  You've met the owner of the establishment; he's a short skeleton with a loud mouth and an eye for perfectionism.  

"A relative, right?" you ask for clarification.  From what the friendliest of the waiters, Papyrus, told you, their skeleton crew consisted entirely of family.

"my bro, yeah," Rus nods.  

"And you hadn't bartended before that?"  You're surprised; he's a natural.

"nope.  completely self-taught.  guess it helps that i used to spend a lot of time at a bar.  heh, only then i was watchin' a spider monster sling drinks.  talk about a sleight of hand--she had six."

You'd like to see that, as much as the idea of a giant spider monster kinda-sorta creeps you out.  "Do they still bartend?"

"nah, not here.  they're a baker, i think.  it's not far from here actually, so if you ever see muffet's bakery, head inside.  though... maybe don't mention the bartending thing."  Before you can press him as to why you shouldn't, he leans in on the bar again, and you find yourself leaning forward.  Your second drink is half-gone, and you're feeling pretty damn good right about now.  Why, you're not even embarrassed to be looking him directly in the eyes.  His smirk widens, and your gaze drops to the eye-catching gold fang.  Somehow, that glimmer of gold just makes him seem more appealing.

"I like your gold tooth," you blurt suddenly, catching him by surprise.

Woah, are you drunk?  You're grinning like you're well on your way.  You face feels hot, but you're not completely mortified.

Rus nudges your glass closer to your hand.  "i'll make you all the cocktails ya want if you keep the flattery comin'.  but i'm about to go on a smoke break before m'lord does his rounds.  wanna come?"

One-on-one time with him without a bar between the two of you?  He doesn't have to ask you twice.  Nodding, you knock back the last of your drink and step off the barstool.  The world lurches slightly, and your face tingles a little; alcohol always seems to catch up with people when they first stand up, you've heard.  Rus gestures for you to follow him through the back, which leads through the kitchen, where an chef in a blue uniform is excitedly making entrees.  Another skeleton, about the same build as Rus but clad in an orange chef's jacket.  They both seem surprised to see you walking through with Rus--especially since you've snagged the crook of his elbow in your hand as he guides you through.

"RUS!  YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BRING CUSTOMERS THROUGH HERE!" the one in blue admonishes, though there's no real scold to his tone.  

"sorry, it's a birthday tour.  i've been mixin' birthday drinks, so i'm gonna take a smoke break real quick.  didn't want my little human to get lonely."  

The chef gasps.  "IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY?!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HUMAN!  WELL, SINCE IT'S A SPECIAL DAY, I CAN MAKE AN EXCEPTION!!"  

"Thanks!" you call back with a wave; Rus hasn't stopped moving through, so by the time you turn back around, he's guiding you out the back door and into the alley between buildings.  The air is chilly, so you find yourself pressing against his side for warmth.  Thankfully, he doesn't move away.  Instead, he just guides you to the wall and leans against it, fishing a cigarette and lighter from his pockets.

"I think you're the one that wanted the company," you tease, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt to warm them.

He lights the tip of his cigarette and it burns a dim purple.  It must be magic, you realize; you've never seen any other cigarette like it.  "caught me.  i gotta admit, it's been nice havin' you come around so much.  gives me somethin' to look forward to."  

He's got a lop-sided smirk with smoke curling between his fangs that makes your heart race.  You're not sure if he's just teasing you or not, but you take it as encouragement to rest your cheek on his shoulder while you watch the cigarette burn between his sharp teeth.  It doesn't smell like normal smoke, either; it has an undercurrent of spice, which is pleasant in the crisp air.

"Do you smoke a lot?" you wonder aloud.

Papyrus glances over at you, the cigarette dangling from his teeth.  He shrugs, though his expression morphs into a sharp-toothed smirk.  "nah, that's you.  smokin' hot."

You watch as smoke curls from between his teeth as he speaks, coming out in little tiny wisps.  The designs it creates are mesmerizing.

"Yeah, right," you snort, though that flush is back to your cheeks.  "What kind of cigarette is that?"  

"it's not like the human ones up here.  it's infused with magic," he explains. "it's not harmful like the human kind... though it's not like those hurt me, either.  i don't exactly have lungs. doesn't mean you don't take my breath away, though."  He tosses in a casual wink that has you blushing even harder and trying to bury your face in his shoulder.  He only chuckles.

"...I'd like to try it."

His eyesockets widen at your announcement, and he cranes his head to get a better look at your face. "didn't take you for a smoker."

"I'm not, but... you said it's not harmful like a human cigarette, right?  So what does it do?"

"hmm... it's just infused with magic," he claims, his index and third fingers coming up to cradle the cigarette between his teeth.  He inhales deeply, then exhales a purple cloud through his fangs.  "i dunno what kind of effect it'd have on a human.  it's mostly just energy to monsters, but this kind is a calming energy."    

"Well?  Can I try it?" you repeat your request, undaunted, and unwind one of your hands from his arm to hold it out to him.  He seems to mull it over for a moment, before he smirks and takes you hand in his, lacing your fingers together.  

"ok. but let's make it interesting... and remember to try not to swallow the smoke."  

You quirk an eyebrow as he takes in a deep inhale, then pulls the cigarette away from his teeth.  He bends down, and his hand moves from yours to cup your cheek and draw your face to his.  You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as your lips touch his teeth-- and he coaxes them apart with his fangs.  

The world spins in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

You feel him blow the smoke directly into your mouth, and you have to remind yourself not to inhale too deeply and swallow.  Instead, you hold the smoke in--which tastes strangely sweet and a little tangy, your gaze half-lidded.  

"now blow it out."

You comply, slowly forcing out a breath and watching purple smoke curl around Papyrus's features.  He smirks, still so close that you can feel the heat of his breath fanning against your face.  "well?"

You pause to assess yourself.  "I don't feel any different, but it tasted nice."

"might be the alcohol." H e shrugs a shoulder, nonplussed.  "wanna see if i taste any better?"

"Wha--"  You barely have time to process the question before he drops the cigarette and grinds it out beneath his shoe, and then moves to slide one hand into your hair and the other around your waist, pulling your body against his.  His teeth press back to your lips, which you instantly part in a surprised gasp, letting his tongue invade.  The coalesced magic that comprises it tastes like sweet, smoky barbeque sauce, and it tingles against your tongue.

Your hands come up to steady yourself, gripping onto his tie.  You've been longing for a chance to kiss him for over a month now -- but even with all the teasing and flirting that's gone on between the two of you, you never realized you'd be making out with the charismatic bartender in the back alley.

You're just drunk enough that you don't care; you're going to take advantage of the situation.  So, you kiss him back with abandon, tangling tongues and pressing your body flat against his.  You even stand on your tip-toes in an effort to get a better angle on the kiss.  

Just as you've moved, pushing him so his back hits the wall behind you in a surprisingly daring maneuver (sober you is either going to be proud of that or mortified), you hear someone clear their throat from the back door.

You jump away, guilty, but Rus's arms don't move.  He tilts his head while you hide your face in his chest.  

"could you maybe not take advantage of people in dark alleys, rus?” a low voice drawls, and you peek to spot the orange-clad chef standing there with a sucker stem bobbing between his teeth.  From his smirk, he seems more amused by the situation than scolding.  

“where’s the fun in that, stretch?”

“i hear you, but blue said to bring the human inside.  he’s got a surprise cooked up.”

Your mortification began to drain at the mention of a surprise.  You pull back, and attempt to straighten Rus’s tie to no avail.  Oh well.  He looks sexier that way.

“thanks darlin’.”  

Shit, you said that out loud.  You’ll never apologize for speaking the truth, so you just grin while he ushers you back into the door Stretch is holding open.  The other skeleton’s eyelights flick over you, and you feel like you’re being Judged, but Birthday You doesn’t give a fuck.

Inside, the blue-clad chef, turns to you with a broad grin.  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HUMAN!!”  There’s cake and puppydough ice cream on the counter.  The delirious grin that’s been on your face since Rus kissed you widens to the point that your cheeks hurt, and you thank the friendly skeleton and take a bite.  Rus grabs another spoon and helps himself, too.

He elbows you to get your attention, and when you glance up, he’s leaned over, ice cream smeared across his fangs.

“want some, darlin’?”

You elbow him lightly in the ribs and keep eating, while Blueberry exchanges a confused look with Stretch and Rus gives you a shit-eating grin.