#minding his own (unwashed hairy) business

[atdhpgirl]

When you want to be alone but one of your besties won't let you:

[vex-bittys]

Imagine the Possum-bilities: An Underfell Story (part 1)

Note: This story is based on this artwork commissioned by @melodyrider.

Red went dumpster diving for leftovers, but instead he found a friend. Good thing his brother is so open-minded and accepting, otherwise things could go hilariously wrong!

Doom and Gloom

"WHAT," squawked Edge, jabbing one long phalanx at the narrow white face poking out of Red’s jacket, “IS THAT?” Unblinking beady black eyes met glowing red eyelights. A tiny pink nose, bristling with whiskers, twitched.

“it’s mine is what it is,” said Red with a cooler-than-thou attitude. The creature added a hiss of agreement. Red and his jacket passenger brushed past Edge and walked into the house. Doomfanger, Edge’s large white cat, eyed both of them skeptically from her palatial cat tree.

“YOU CAN’T BRING THAT THING INTO OUR HOUSE,” protested Edge. Ignoring him, Red bent down and unzipped his jacket. His passenger waddled out onto the floor, long hairless tail raised as if it owned the place. Doomfanger and Edge emitted nearly identical huffs of indignation.

“you have Doomfanger,” Red pointed out. “and now I have-” Red paused for only a fraction of second to contemplate “- Gloomfanger.” Gloomfanger chirped in a very un-gloomy manner, much to Red's delight. 

While his brother sputtered his outrage from the front door, Red crouched, fishing what had once been a piece of gourmet burger from Grillby's out of his pocket. Unlike a fine cheese or wine, the meat did not age well in its lint-lined improvised cellar.  Red tossed the morsel to Gloomfanger, who gobbled it down happily.

"SANS! SANS, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?" Red was, in fact, far too fascinated by Gloomfanger's precious little hand paws to do anything more than half listen to his brother's tirade, but he could tell that proverbial steam must be shooting out of Edge's ear canals. "YOU CAN'T JUST BRING THAT… THAT THING INTO OUR HOUSE!"

In addition to the perceived ear steam, Red could hear his brother's characteristic foot stomping behind him. He ignored Edge’s antics, choosing to focus on Gloomfanger's needle-sharp teeth as the hairy creature open-mouth chewed more pocket offerings, and threw his answer over his shoulder in an officious voice. "he's an opossum, Boss. and his name's Gloomfanger."

“WHERE DID YOU EVEN FIND SOMETHING LIKE THAT?” Edge gestured at Gloomfanger. The possum, not overly fond of the conversation’s tone or the wild gesturing, scurried under the couch to hide. Curious and equally done with the drama, Doomfanger followed.

“in the dumpster behind Grillby’s,” explained Red as if it should be obvious that one found pets by dumpster diving.

“WHY, EXACTLY, WERE YOU IN THE DUMPSTER BEHIND GRILLBY’S?”

“the second i walked in, Grillby was all like ‘pay your tab’ and ‘stop butt scooting across the floor’ like he owns the place.”

“HE DOES OWN THE PLACE.”

“yeah, well, he also throws out perfectly good leftovers as soon as monsters stop eating ‘em! i didn’t want to deal with Grillbs, so i headed out back for some chow. when i looked in the dumpster, i saw Gloomy laying on a plate of fries that were still warm! i thought he was dead, and he smelled terrible…”

“SO YOU DECIDED TO RESUSCITATE IT?” Edge interrupted incredulously. 

“what? no. i picked him up to move him so i could get the fries, and he resuscitated himself! he climbed right into my jacket and made himself at home, so i snagged the fries and we shared them.”

Edge just sighed, at a complete loss for words. His disgusting brother deserved an equally disreputable and unkempt pet to share his garbage-eating tendencies with. Gloomfanger would feel right at home in Red’s disaster of a bedroom. Speaking (or rather thinking) of Gloomfanger…

“where’d Gloomfanger go?”

“IS YOUR DISGUSTING TRASH BEAST UNDER THE SOFA WITH MY DARLING DOOMFANGER?”

Eyelights bulging, Edge leapt onto the coffee table, grabbed the couch with both hands and upturned it, flinging it into the back wall of their living room. Doomfanger and Gloomfanger blinked up at him, then Doomfanger resumed grooming the possum’s round, hairless ears and purring. The possum made a grumbling sound that resembled the purr in the same way that the possum itself resembled the primped and preened Doomfanger.

Edge narrowed his sockets at Gloomfanger. “I’M WATCHING YOU,” he warned, using two slender phalanges to point to his sockets then to Gloomfanger. Gloomfanger regarded him coolly and burped.

Snorting, Red started up the stairs to prepare a spot in his aforementioned disaster of a room for his new pet to sleep. He stopped halfway up to call for Gloomfanger. “my bro’s watchin’ you,” he reminded the possum in a stage whisper, “so don’t go knockin’ her up or anything.”

The garbage-gobbling pair darted the rest of the way up the stairs with Edge’s outraged screeches chasing behind them.

Red spent the next hour sifting through piles of unwashed clothing, sorting them into new configurations until he had some passably clean blankets, sheets, and a few towels crammed haphazardly into his closet as a private nesting place for Gloomfanger. Gloomy climbed onto the pile, stomped it down to a serviceable height, and chirped in satisfaction. Red watched proudly as the possum pulled itself into a possum-loaf shape- yet another rough-around-the-edges mimicry of one of Doomfanger’s common behaviors.

As he crawled into bed (a mattress on the floor with a nest similar to Gloomfanger’s strewn across it), Red smiled to himself. His brother had Doomfanger, and now he had a pet too. Red didn’t dislike the spoiled feline, but he sometimes resented her, which was much different than being jealous of her, at least in his mind. Before Doomy arrived on their doorstep in the middle of a blizzard one night, it had just been him and his bro, two skeleton brothers against the dangerous world.

From babybones to stripes, Red had been a protective older brother, making sure that Edge never lacked anything despite the struggles that they both faced. Edge grew into a powerful and capable adult monster, but he still leaned on his big brother when he needed someone to confide in. Red cherished his position in Edge’s life. Very few monsters in their universe could boast having any sort of close bond with another monster… and then the little white ball of fluff showed up like a snow poff sprung to life and changed things.

If he were being completely honest and not at all in denial, Red would admit that he now needed Edge much more than his brother needed him. Instead, he half-heartedly blamed Doomfanger for replacing him. Edge would stroke her silky fur whenever he felt upset or pressured by his position in the Royal Guard. Edge also gave her an abundance of his doting, doting that had once exclusively fallen onto Red. Red shared all of these hidden thoughts (and a few of his favorite jokes) with his new companion, Gloomfanger. 

Now Red wouldn’t rely on Edge as much, just the same way that Edge no longer relied on him. It served his brother right, in his opinion.

Meanwhile, Edge busied himself tidying up the living room. The coffee table drooped a bit, but the couch had survived its assault remarkably well. While her owner righted the furniture he had displaced, Doomfanger made an admirable bound back onto her cat tree throne to oversee the work from an appropriately lofty elevation.

Edge brushed himself off to remove the nonexistent dirt of a job well done and surveyed the living room. His eyelights came to rest on Doomfanger, and he found himself comparing her to Red’s unsightly new pet. Doomfanger oozed grace and majesty. The pure white feline was perfectly groomed, perfectly regal, and perfectly ferocious, just like a certain tall, dark, and handsome skeleton. Gloomfanger reeked, looked perpetually much worse for wear, and probably had no idea what the word grooming even meant. The gears in Edge’s mind turned, and a deep meaning floated around just past the reach of clear conscious thought.

Edge ignored the potential epiphany. He went into the kitchen and dug around under the sink until he found an old bowl of Doomfanger’s, a simple shiny metal dish that Edge had quickly replaced with something more elegant for his pampered cat. It would do nicely for what he had in mind though. 

Red stumbled tiredly into the kitchen the next morning, scratching his tailbone and squinting against the bright light. Gloomfanger waddled contentedly at his heels making a variety of grunting sounds that proved to be indiscernible from Red’s own. Red pulled up short when he saw the gleaming metal dish next to Doomfanger’s… full to the brim with the same expensive food that Edge gave his beloved pet. Gloomfanger bumped into the back of Red’s legs and gave an irritated squeak.

“what’s with the extra food there, Boss?” Edge ignored Red’s use of his babybones nickname, a name Red only used to annoy him or disguise those pesky affectionate emotions.

“IT’S NOTHING,” Edge snapped, using a very similar tactic to distract his brother from the act of kindness and acceptance. “I JUST DON’T WANT THAT DIRTY ANIMAL STEALING ANY OF DOOMFANGER’S FOOD IS ALL.”

“riiiiiiiight.”

Gloomfanger’s nose twitched, and the possum shuffled forward to investigate the gourmet chow. Doomfanger stepped up to her dish, and together, the two animals began to eat. Edge and Red both took seats at their kitchen table. Soon two creatures that embodied class sat side-by-side with two unsavory but lovable creatures to dine in companionable silence.

Instead of widening the rift between the skeleton brothers, Gloomfanger’s presence laid the foundation for a bridge to be built over it.

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