#tdahm progress

[ibeta]

TDAHM - His Musician's Newest Hit [Draft]

(Warning: no musical experience whatsoever, I know nothing about it. This is the explanation for why The Dancer and His Musician is titled like that. Soon, Red will learn to dance. And because some time ago, before dating Bun, this piece happened.)

Muses were monsters that were recipients of another musicians’ music. When a musician was playing music and thinking of the monster that inspired that song, it would start playing the same music in that target monster’s SOUL. If a musician concentrated hard enough, they’d be able to do a duet with their Muse’s soul Music. And, if the musician and Muse were courting, the music wouldn’t be one-sided. It would be a full duet with each monster sharing music.

In another world, it would be fine and perfect, but Red’s world was a disaster, with everyone out for blood, and they weren’t spared from each other.

A Muse would have been a liability, so it was out of question to compose for someone or have someone else be an inspiration. In fact, as a rule, monster musicians had to compose for themselves, not anyone else…

Unless, of course, they were strong monsters, and it was a courtship song.

So, when the worlds had merged, he hadn’t expected anything at all. It was common sense to not compose for other monsters – and this held on, until that time Red had been in a practice room with Edge, and soft, hesitant music poured out of his SOUL.

It wasn’t a song full of hate. It was the kind of music a monster would play while they were learning a new instrument. A monster that had just started, and yet it had seemed like they at least knew how the keys sounded.

And of course, it was a stardamned piano. Of all the instruments, it had to be the one instrument he used the least. Pianos were too bulky to carry, especially since he liked grand pianos more. To him, it had a better projection than the other piano types. Red would have even preferred a trombone, or even a viola, to a piano.

Red unknowingly made a face, so Edge started laughing at him.

“IT’S DEFINITELY NOT SOMEONE FROM OUR UNIVERSE,” Edge said after a few chuckles, “THE MUSICIAN’S MOST LIKELY A DANCER!” And that was probably why the piano sounded like a clumsy dance on keys.

Red covered his face in embarrassment as the stumbling piano music tapered off, hoping the dancer would give up playing for him. He didn’t think he’d be able to look intimidating while his SOUL sputtered out that kind of music in public. It was humiliating to think that he’d be basically walking around like a recording full of awkward notes.

So, of course Red’s wishes hadn’t come true. The dancer had kept playing for him, an hour a day, a different instrument after each other.

At least they kept a steady schedule.

–

Red stared blankly at the wall of the practice room as his SOUL continued his musician’s latest hit, the ninth time of cello practice, but –

The notes were clear, the harmony flowed, and with the cello, there were other instruments playing. He could hear more string instruments and some percussion in the background, and even a fucking magic-made vocal choir had piped up in intervals.

An orchestra was playing out of his SOUL like it was a normal thing to hear from a Muse. The dancer with the clumsy piano had unburied a boss monster-like music talent from whatever graveyard they’d dug it up and started displaying it around Red’s SOUL like gold medals and crystal trophies.

Red could admit to himself that Muses did not get this kind of Music at all.

From a normal musician, a Muse would only have a single instrument to play. Since most musicians couldn’t play multiple musical instruments all at once, only talents could handle two or three – if they were using magic to play – but they would need… so many years of practice. That type of concentration needed a lot of patience and determination.

His musician had been practicing for a few months now, and then they decided that a god should descend in Red’s SOUL while he was talking to his brother at the Music Hall.

Every monster in the Music Hall heard the beginnings of the cello and his orchestra because the dancer changed their stardamned schedule one hour earlier. They saw his SOUL trying to glow through his black vest and saw the way his SOUL had transitioned through colours, from a deep blue of integrity to a light blue of patience to a terrifying yellow that denoted justice. From there, it slowly became orange with bravery, and then even more slowly red for determination.

It stayed red, and the music stayed deep and sharp and passionate, and Red had realized the colours meant the transitions in the emotions of the dancer – his musician. Red hastily walked away with his brother to enter an empty practice room, face flushed in embarrassment and trying not to panic at the realization that he exposed himself as a Muse of a musical talent.

“OH MY GOD.”

Edge was sweating magic off his skull, and Red was no better, since his eyelights had been blown wide open when the cello had started a beautiful entrance, and he’d lost his damn mind trying to mentally keep up when even more instruments came in to accompany that stardamned cello.

Red covered his face with his hands, bringing his ear closer to the music playing from his SOUL. It kept going, like it was never-ending. It was such a beautiful piece. Passionate, sharp, and deep, almost desperate and stars, it sounded so cool and hot, like it wanted to consume him. It was as if a dark creature took a cello and started playing it like it was inviting a whole cult to fall for it. A trap for everyone, but it was as if all would be so willing.

What the hell was his musician thinking?

“HOW THE HELL ARE THEY GETTING THAT GOOD?” Edge asked. His voice was trembling, like he was nervous. Red looked up at him and saw Edge sitting on the couch in the room, hands clasped under his chin like he was praying for an answer to a question Red didn’t know.

“where the hell did they find an orchestra?” Red retorted weakly, trying not to melt into the Music.

It sounded – he didn’t know how it sounded anymore, but they haven’t stopped playing, and it’s been several minutes of ongoing Music. Beautiful, passionate, and deep Music – his musician seemed to have a lot of magic and a lot of talent in controlling it. How they kept up in rhythm with the rest of the instruments, Red didn’t know. All he knew was, if the musician kept this up, Red might become a hot mess whenever they played.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN?” Edge looked at him like he was stupid. Red felt it, because half his mind had already been consumed by the Music, and half was still trying to stay clear of it. “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS—NEVERMIND! DON’T YOU THINK IT’S ODD THAT THEY’VE BEEN PRACTICING THIS SHORT OF A TIME AND THEN SKIPPED AHEAD TO BECOME THE WHOLE DAMNED ORCHESTRA?”

Red laughed hysterically.

The orchestra was playing in his SOUL. Red had a close encounter with it in the Music Hall and then in the practice room. By now, he was done being surprised by the clumsy dancer. Red knew he had a magical musician with high music talent playing for him. Someone who could play like this couldn’t be anyone simple – they must have a background that could allow them to have that many instruments in such a short time.

“where’s the nearest orchestra?” Red straddled the stool and slumped over the backrest, groaning. If he knew where the nearest orchestra was, maybe they’d find the musician and politely ask them to keep it down a little. Red was starting to feel things he shouldn’t feel while in public. Or in front of his brother. “shit, i can’t think.”

“LET ME CHECK –” Edge started typing on the monster phone “– IT’S IN THE UNDERGROUND, INSIDE THE CASTLE, BUT THAT’S TOO SECURE FOR BORROWING, SO IT MIGHT BE… NO, IT’S MOST CERTAINLY IN THE UNDERGROUND DANCE HALL. THIS MEANS IT’S HIGHLY LIKELY THEY’RE A DANCER, BUT… IT SAYS HERE THAT THEIR ORCHESTRA ROOM IS A VIP ONLY ACCESS – SO, WHOEVER IT IS, THEY MIGHT BE HIGH UP THE LADDER!”

And they chose Red, of all people, to be their Muse? What the hell did he ever do to deserve… such… good Music? Because, holy shit, he was seeing colours everywhere.

“‘ey, do i look like a strobe light?” he mumbled, “because ya look like an attack waitin’ to happen.” What the hell did he even try to say? It made no sense at all.

Edge threw him a disgusted look. “TRY NOT TO SINK INTO THE MUSIC,” he sniffed delicately, “THIS ROOM IS UNDER MY NAME! I DON’T WANT YOU TO THROW UP ANY MAGIC IN HERE.”

“ya sure ‘m not a disco ball?”

“YOU’RE A LAVA LAMP,” Edge humoured him. “YOU’RE SHIFTING SLOWLY IN COLOURS, BUT IT STAYS ON LIGHT BLUE, YELLOW, AND RED MORE OFTEN. I SEE ORANGE, BUT IT SEEMS LIKE IT’S ONLY USED FOR TRANSITION TO RED. THERE ARE MORE COLOURS, BUT I CAN’T TELL ANYMORE, SINCE IT SEEMS LIKE THEY’RE ABOUT TO BE DONE PLAYING.”

Red desperately hoped it was about to be done and desperately hoped that it continued. “right. uh. so, can ya check outside fer things? they saw me come in here, and i don’ wanna go out there with the curious assholes that can dust me.”

“UGH, FINE!” Edge stood up abruptly, and then he paused and frowned at him. “I’M SERIOUS ABOUT THE MUSIC. MONSTER DANCERS SEEM TO HAVE A WAY TO LET YOU FEEL THEIR EMOTIONS WHILE THEY’RE DANCING, SO TAKE NOTE OF THAT. THEY SEEM TO HAVE A WAY OF MAKING YOU… DANCE IN THEIR WAY OF MAGIC? ANYWAY, DON’T SINK!”

Red watched him leave the room, and then he turned away to stare at the wall to sink into the Music. They were about to finish anyway, right?

Some ten more minutes later, the Music faded away. Red got up and stumbled out of the practice room. Edge was waiting for him, looking exhausted and annoyed.

“TOOK YOUR TIME?” his brother hissed. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO SINK INTO THE MUSIC!”

Red threw him a glare. “yeah, well, i learned something new,” he huffed. “they like me enough to play this long and exhaust their magic. they passed out, or they stopped or something.”

Edge’s sockets bulged open, and his jaw dropped. “WHO THE FUCK CAN PLAY THAT LONG?!” he demanded.

Red had no clue. He only now knew that dancers might have the talent to keep going even after exhaustion.

He had felt the emotions that Edge had told him, tendrils of the dancer-musician’s exhaustion slipping into him, and then suddenly boosted with energy whenever Red’s SOUL turned orange. Whenever the musician turned him light blue, it was as if they were keeping their pace steady, like it was… anticipating the next section of the Music. When he turned dark blue, it was with the cello singing deeply at him, and yellow included the whole other parts of the orchestra and vocals. There was green, and that part of the Music had softness in it, but it passed quickly. Purple barely existed, but it was there, like a bear trap. As for the red colour… it tasted like they were trying to convey so many emotions all at once.

There was no doubt that the musician might have a tiny crush on him.

“SO THEY TURNED INTO A DAMNED ORCHESTRA FOR YOU,” Edge told him, “AND YOU THINK IT MIGHT BE A TINY CRUSH? ARE YOU AN IDIOT?!”

Red scowled. “it’s what they felt.”

A tiny crush because Red could feel their confusion, their disbelief, and nervousness. As if the musician couldn’t believe they liked him at all. It wasn’t denial. It was… a surprise? They’ve only discovered it, and it seemed like that was why they played for so long – because they were trying to figure out their feelings.

-

The next day, Red fell asleep to a soothing lullaby coming from his SOUL, played with a single harp. Red had a short dream of being a starsdamned forest princess with animals flocking to him before Edge had to nudge him awake in the practice room. After all, they still had to go home for stupid music practice at home.

-

The next week, after several solo instruments, it was another orchestra playing in his soul. Edge had gone silent and stopped training on a double bass, sitting on the couch.

But the music was… different. It was something that was slow and yet curious, and it had soothing vocals and a bunch of xylophones and marimbas and a flute—Red’s sockets widened. He nearly dropped his bow on the ground as he stood up from the stool in the practice room.

“WHAT NOW!” Edge barked at him, but Red thought it was only through reflex since Red had seen him glancing at him several times when the Music started playing. Red knew Edge was starting to become a fan of his musician.

The climax of the Music hit its peak, and then it gently faded with the humming vocals. It clicked in Red’s skull.

“uh, i think they jus’ accepted that they liked me,” Red explained to his brother, who was staring at him. “but the feelings tha’ came with it felt like… they weren’ supposed to like me, like i wasn’ part of their plans. like… uh… it’s forbidden? but then they became curious, so it also felt like they kinda wanna to be my friend, like they want to try –” to earn trust, Red realized. The Music had been a story about forbidden friendships, but his musician wanted his trust too.

“SO THEY FINALLY ACKNOWLEDGE THEY LIKE YOU?” His brother furrowed his browridge. “JUST NOW?”

Red rolled his eyelights. “like trying to be friends with a monster that’s dusted other monsters.”

Edge’s face relaxed. “THAT’S RIGHT, THIS IS A DANCER WE’RE TALKING ABOUT,” his brother agreed. “SO, THEY’RE TRYING TO BRIDGE THE GAP BETWEEN YOU IN FRIENDSHIP, THEN THEY’LL TAKE YOU OUT FOR DATES AFTER?”

“it’s a crush!” Red couldn’t stop the flush on his face fast enough. His musician had been clear about the crush. It was impossible to be anything more than that. “they’re like… testing their own water, not me.”

“YOUR MUSICIAN IS MUSING,” Edge said in a dry tone, “ABOUT FRIENDSHIPS AND CRUSHES, BUT IT WON’T SUDDENLY EVOLVE INTO DATES FROM THERE?”

Red got out of the room in a hurry to bury his head in a sandpit, but he found none.

—

[Notes]

The italics have disappeared, but it's an excerpt anyway, so... it's fine? ;^;

Sans isn't here, but it is kustard. Sans practiced all the instruments because Red made a joke that it would be funny if some musician challenged him without knowing a dancer could play something. Sans could play the trombone anyway, so he might as well do the rest.

Red still thinks that Sans' trombone skills are mediocre. Sans hasn’t played the trombone in his presence ever since that day he got roasted.

Red then thinks he's ruined his best friend's trombone-ing from being too much of a music critic and still feels guilty for ruining music for Sans.

Sans... Sans is desperately trying to practice musical instruments to wow his best buddy, and then realizes he's doing so much just for a best friend, and oh no, he has a crush. Sans continues anyway, since he thinks whatever he makes is absolute garbage and that Red would judge him for having bad music skills.

Sans thinks his music is basic. After all, Edge mentioned that Red had mastered most intruments in the orchestra and exemplary control over instruments.

(Sans takes this as: Red, practicing every instrument in the orchestra all at the same time. Red is not doing this, Sans is an absolute bonehead. He's doing too much out of anxiety because Red hadn’t liked his trombone sass.)

The thing is, while Red likes orchestra music, it's not the only music he likes or plays. He likes fast and sharp music when he's angry. He likes upbeat and uneven music when he feels playful, and... yeah, the music he plays changes with his emotions. He's an emotional skeleton.

Sans can dance a lot of styles. He's also an emotional skeleton. His dance type depends on his mood and soul.

'Freestyle' dancers in this world hold almost all dances under that word instead of just the hip-hop dancing type. It means they're unbound by limitations a specialized dancer may have. They're free in their style.

It's a pun. I'm not sorry.

[ibeta]

The Dancer and His Musician 7 - Grillby’s Part

has too much attention to dialogue in Grillby’s. I have an urge to axe it and rewash. Maybe make a cut and just write it in some cut collection?

It's getting too long, so I'll share why I want to axe it.

Excerpt of the first part of the unedited draft below.

———

Red

* i’m picking you up for grillby’s

Sans’ magic rushed through his skull as he ducked his head. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe Red wouldn’t be able to draw out his emotions as much as usual. Maybe Sans wouldn’t reveal his love for him, and maybe Red won’t notice. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Hell, there was no way to be ready unless he took a step forward. He had to move.

Sans typed in his response, shrugging off his lab coat and entering the closet to hang it with the rest of the dirty coats.

Sans

* i’ll be near that crooked tree.

Sans hesitated to add more, but he couldn’t help it. Red had done something for him, something he hadn’t expected at all. Sans’ hands were free to type up nonsense to his best friend, to commemorate Red’s absurd way of helping him out.

Sans

* you’re lucky you didn’t get caught.

* next time you visit, let me know so i can let you in

* i can’t always expect you to clone the perfect footage.

It wouldn’t work much as a warning, but he hoped Red would tell him if he planned on visiting.

A moment passed, so Sans stepped into a shortcut by the crooked tree that he knew stood away from security cameras, hands pocketed in his jacket to hide his clenched hands.

He waited for only a few seconds before seeing Red’s form emerge beside the tree, walking closer to him.

Sans met Red’s searching gaze and nearly stumbled when his best friend reached out for him. He ignored his fluttering soul, because taking note of it would break the illusion of his emotional stability.

“yer ready?” Red gripped his arm, drawing him close. Sans suppressed the magic that threatened to light up his skull.

“no, you’re red-y,” he quipped, forcing out a grin.

Red barked out a sharp laugh, eye sockets half-lidded. He looked so adorable that it made Sans’ stupid soul pulse with love.

“of course i am,” Red smugly delivered, “just for that, yer gonna make some knock-knock jokes if ya eat the burg piece by piece.”

“heh, you’re in for a ride.” Sans winked, hoping to cover up his nerves with his usual humour. “gotta say, my knock-knock jokes are a total knock-out. you won’t red-gret it.”

Red grinned sharply at him. “better make it good. puns can only last so long, bud,” he warned.

Sans shrugged and then knocked a hand on the trunk of the crooked tree.

“knock, knock.”

“who’s there?”

Okay, so he hadn’t thought that far yet. “not.”

“not who?”

“not you,” Sans widened his eye sockets, “it’s me.” It wasn’t the best of his repertoire, but it was enough to be a joke when Red laughed.

The tension in the air seemed to loosen. Sans saw the grin on Red’s face and figured it was a bad joke worthy of laughter. His soul relaxed under the sound, wishing he could keep on going. He wanted to hear Red laughing at his bad jokes, wanted to lean close to share the worst ones he’d heard at the Surface.

But… heh. He should avoid getting too comfortable if he wanted to move on.

“that was the most horrible one you’ve made.” Red smirked at him. “worst than the puns,” his best friend added.

Of course, Red preferred knock-knock jokes to puns. Just the thought of it made Sans smile, because he had enough practice with Tori to bring down all the doors in the castle. If Red wanted knock-knock jokes, then Sans would knock him out with them.

Still, he had to defend himself. “you’re not allowed to get tired of my puns. best friends aren’t allowed to dislike puns.”

“best friends can drop yer bones in the dump if ya pun too much.” But Red smiled at him, so Sans knew he was joking.

Seeing that smile brought an ache in his soul, a soft flutter that died as he suppressed it. Stars, Sans wanted to hug him so badly, it wasn’t funny – nothing about his feelings seemed funny anymore. In the past, he could follow through the urge, hugging his best friend without a care. Platonically, of course. He would laugh to himself, thinking of ways to bother Red with silly problems.

But when he’d discovered his feelings, it just made him be more affectionate – Red hadn’t exactly stopped him. Red just hugged him back, because that’s what friends did when another friend wanted a hug.

He couldn’t drop his guard down. He can’t, he just can’t, because one wrong move could destroy his and Red’s relationship. He knew enough monsters to see the same pattern happen, the probability of friendship was so low that he balked at the idea of making a mistake. Not to mention, Red was already taken. He had Bun as his partner and Sans wasn’t about to ruin it for him. Confessing at this point would be unreasonable when he’d already seen physical evidence that Red had some close encounters with Bun.

Sans avoided looking at Red’s black vest and the red dress-shirt he’d given him. Bun’s fur would be on it, he guessed, too afraid to confirm it. He would make a face if he looked and Red would strip his expressions bare. Red would know and it would destroy Sans.

Sans stopped his train of thought when Red curled a hand around his other arm.

“hmm…” The hum was familiar enough to make Sans sweat magic.

“h-hey, i’m good, red.”

Red checked him anyway. Okay, so Sans still hadn’t gained back some of his HP, but at least he still had more than a single point. Right? And, he had ideas to get them back.

Red sighed and leaned his skull close. “yer dealin’ with it?” Red’s voice rumbled low, almost a whisper.

Sans avoided his gaze and nodded, magic flushed on his skull. “yep. i…” Sans looked up and met red eyelights, soul thrumming under his ribcage when he saw the concern in them. “i have a plan.” He hoped the anguish in his voice didn’t sound obvious.

In fact, he was eager enough to follow through it. So desperate that would do anything… everything. He wanted to keep Red. Stars, anything to keep Red.

“good.”

Sans relaxed his tense bones, holding steady. Practice, he remembered. He needed to practice. His only plan to move on from Red involved going back to dancing, even if his dance song sounded like a sad mess. Shyren’s was a good place to find someone – stars, anyone at all. Anyone, please, anyone so he could stop feeling like his soul was about to burst with Red so close enough to hug and kiss—

“so, grillby’s?” he breathed out, quick to derail his thoughts. Red continued to look at him, observing him. No doubt he was hyperaware of every move he made, tracking every motion with the eyes of a Judge. Sans managed to keep his face clear.

Red blinked slowly, and then smirked. “yeah. my treat, remember?”

Then, Red dragged him into a shortcut.

Sans wasn’t surprised to find himself clutching onto Red’s vest, with Red laughing loudly, and him panicking over the sudden move.

“do you always have to do that?” he griped, trying to calm his fluttering soul. The darkness had seemed darker – but he didn’t find anything wrong. Thankfully. He gave a weak glare at the handsome skeleton before him. “can't we have a code word for when you do that? let’s call it a pickle. like, you’ll tell me we’re in a pickle and i'll know to grab onto you—”

“yer hysterical,” Red teased, poking him at the rib. Sans choked on an abated laugh. “shoulda expected this from me. you know how i work, sweetheart.”

Sans didn’t find it funny anymore when his face flushed with magic. He pulled away from Red, pocketing his hands, and seeing that they weren’t that far from Grillby’s. “it’s because you always send us off like a rocket,” Sans shot back, stepping away from the trees.

“what?” Red quickly followed him, “the sweetheart doesn’t like space anymore? dude, yer breaking my heart.”

Sans threw him a look. “hate to burst your bubble, but you don’t have a heart.” He paused, and then dropped the truly baddest of bad news. “you’re a skeleton, red.”

His reply brought out the chuckling he planned for.

(Sans needed to break Red out of his habit of nicknames, but how would he even bring it up?)

They entered Grillby’s, which was surprisingly empty of the perpetual presence of Bun. Red must have chosen a day when she wasn’t here, or she was dancing in a club at the Dance Hall in the Underground.

Or, she might be on the Surface.

Sans hid a grimace at the thought.

What if… something happened to her? Red would be devastated, right? He seemed like a guy who would give it his all into something he loved. Edge liked to boast about him when Red wasn’t within hearing range – mentioning that when Red trained, he trained hard. It must’ve been a music thing Sans didn’t know about, because Edge had been telling him about how Red was multitasking with music, using all his soul to perfect something.

Sans barely understood the music jokes, but he had been studying classical music for Red – for the stupid gift he’d been planning to give him. The music gift he trashed, but there was still… something else.

Another gift, for another time.

Grillby greeted them when the shuffled over to the bar counter.

“just our regular, but…” Sans thought about it. “hold on the extra burger.”

“hey, no need to hold back,” Red protested, “it’s my treat, remember?”

Sans shrugged, looking at Grillby, who already started working on their orders, before turning back to Red and winking. “i… uh, really don’t have the guts to eat two.”

Red frowned at him. “what…” he trailed off, then shook his head. Sans figured he might have pieced the clues together. “yeah, fine. next one’s mine again if you keep ordering singles.”

Sans smiled weakly, and then they headed off to the booth at the corner, far away from Grillby.

The fire monster would just drop it off, Red muttered at him.

While they waited for their food, an awkward silence descended upon them. Red kept staring at him, and Sans knew he was too obviously distracted by something else. So, he started talking about the lab, about Beanie’s obvious pity for his short height, about Alphys, who’d been surprised that he finished his work early.

He talked enough that Grillby finally brought their food over. The steaming burger looked amazing, greasy and delicious. Red stared at it like he wanted to devour everything, including the table.

Sans kept a tight hold onto his burger, fearing a sudden sharp-teethed skeleton might have ideas to go for thirds.

“alph’s gonna expect things from me,” he groaned into his burger, sucking out the magic instead of biting and chewing and swallowing. The warm kindness and comfort soothed his aching soul, distracting him from Red’s second juicy burger. “she saw your work, but she thought it was all me.”

“it’ll be fine. at least she’s gonna be too nervous to ask for a new project,” Red hummed, narrowing his eye sockets as he bit into his burger. Sans saw him drain the magic in an instant and started sweating. Red only did that if he had other important things bothering him. “and, hey, yer gonna have to face it. yer kinda advanced, sweetheart, but you keep on letting them tag behind yer ass like little chicks.”

Sans slumped in his seat, trying to keep his cool. Between his hands, his burger drooled out grease on the plate below it. “the reports aren’t supposed to be used this way,” he explained, gently placing the burger at the less greasy side of his plate. “alphys was supposed to be the one doing the biology stuff, and i wanted to do the physics stuff.”

“physics is easy for ya,” Red told him, bluntly. Sans separated his burger into pieces on his plate. “y’gotta learn a bit more about other material science, bud.”

“nope. i already got enough grease on my plate.” Practicing dancing for one.

“it’s not just grease on yer plate.” Red shrugged at him. “got some tomato juice in it too.”

Sans groaned. Right. He eyed the burger on his plate and sighed. He had other things to do, and it wasn’t just dancing, music, or doing science. Some of his ‘other things to do’ involved settling down disputes, offering his insight to some important people, and figuring out ways to conserve a lot of energy with less work.

Of course, he lazed around for those things and he placed them far down the list of his things to do. It wasn’t his current issue, which was… well… finding someone else to tack on his feelings.

Someone who isn’t his best friend, who looked at him with a smug grin and worried eyelights.

“i'd like to say i’m kidding,” Sans mumbled, “but i'm really not.” Red didn’t even know half of it.

He needed to move on from Red. He needed to find scraps of hope from somewhere. Sans wanted to keep Red. He just had to dance his specialty and figure out which monster could keep up.

“it'll be fine once you find yer rhythm.” Red offered him a grin. Sans smiled at the joke, moving his burger around.

Red shoved the remainder of his first burger into his mouth. Sans watched as he went for the second burger in an instant, quickly draining the magic from it. A cold chill went down his spine as he thought of why Red would rush through good food. His best friend could possibly… pay too much attention to him tonight.

“so what are you up to?” Sans asked, swiftly absorbing the magic from his burger pieces and making it disappear from his plate.

“right… oh, right.” Red wiped off the grease from his hands with the napkin from the table. He reached into his pocket. “you can have this,” Red offered, sliding over a familiar card.

Sans picked it up and opened it. “oh.” Outdated rules stared at him in the face, mocking him. “this is, uh, really old for an invitation card.”

Red peered over. “what, really? is there a difference?”

There were obsolete rules written on the card.

“yeah. lots of the stuff here… it might be outdated.” Sans flipped the card over, eye sockets narrowed at the old stylised club sign. “shyren’s… well, the dance halls that have clubs and dance shops have new rules. we’ve updated it almost three years ago, when the musicians came over.”

“fuck. i shoulda gone to you first,” Red grumbled. “i thought i got good info, but… shit.” Red leaned back on his seat, rubbing the back of his head. “i figured yer bro woulda invited mine over, so i had some plans to scout the place.”

Sans pocketed the card. “there’s info desks at the hall… halls.” He paused, and tried to recall his previous visits to the dance clubs in the Hall. “actually, i’ve seen some musicians go to the dance hall. i don’t think they had any problems, but you can still check it out.”

“now i gotta figure things out again,” his best friend groaned.

“when are you going?” Sans asked as casually as possible. If Red went tonight, he would do his best to avoid him. Sans wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing Red.

Red’s shoulders sagged. “i dunno if i can, tonight. are the places different?”

Shoulders relaxing, Sans sighed. Red wasn’t able to go tonight, which meant Sans had time to pick someone from the Underground Dance Hall as a dance partner. It would take a while to get to know a person. Sans understood himself enough to know he’d need to trust his chosen monster before he could truly move on.

“the underground is a little smaller.” Sans looked away, humming. “the surface has a better view. i can’t really tell much about the differences, since… well. there are a lot of things that are introduced every month, and i haven’t been back in a while.”

Red stayed suspiciously silent. Sans suspected he’d given something away again.

“so, uh, do you want to hear about what else beanie did at work?”

Red snorted. “yer labmate? why, what’d he do? didn’t ya tell me he knocked out a whimsum by accident?”

A sigh of relief escaped Sans as he worked to distract Red. He did his best to control his reactions, dragging out some conversations to avoid linking it into awkward topics.

After talking about Beanie, Sans had to dig into his skull for a bunch of knock-knock jokes, badly delivered with horrible puns. Red nearly choked on his milkshake when Sans called him off-beat.

“ruthless,” Red wheezed. “fucking ruthless. i can’t believe ya called me off-beat!”

Sans sipped on his milkshake. “i heard you’re the one with perfect pitch, but can you dance at all?”

“not even with my three left legs and four toes, sweetheart.” Sans choked on his milkshake. Red laughed at him as he wiped off the goop from his jaw. “i’m the cripple on the dance floor nobody would want.”

“don’t dance at all, then.” Sans flushed and looked back at his empty plate. “we can’t have you tripping on the dance floor. you don’t even have an band around your clothes to help you.”

“…what’s a band for?” Sans’ grin froze on his face. Oh, boy.

It took all Sans’ restraint not to answer it literally. He didn’t know enough band jokes, and if Red got him started, then he’d be roasted alive for accidentally misusing horrible band puns.

Sans encircled his hand around the upper arm of his jacket. “like… a band of colour around your clothing. if there’s something like that on you, it means a lot of monsters will stay clear from you, especially dancers.”

“y’mean i coulda saved myself time from chatty people by just wearing my old jacket?!” Red’s expression looked exasperated.

“that’s why you didn’t get any chatty dancers around you,” Sans agreed. He remembered Red’s black jacket with the grey band around the waist. “but yours wouldn’t have worked if you had it open.”

“what’s it mean, anyway?” his best friend asked.

Sans stiffened up, shrugging. “…it makes monsters stay away,” he mentioned, “but it doesn’t work all the time. sometimes, monsters who really want to chat with you might ignore it.”

“so it’s a courtesy thing,” Red hummed, “and really chatty ones might go for ya anyway?”

“yep.”

“then, what else can i wear so they stay away?”

Sans eyed him carefully, frowning. “…do you want dancers to stay away?”

“not you,” Red waved off, “or your bro. you guys are fine.” Sans relaxed in his seat. “just the chatty ones. “

“if you go to shyren’s, you could wear a mask and a band,” Sans pointed out. Red snorted into his own milkshake. “keep yourself completely covered and don’t let anyone know it’s you. buy the generic protection mask from the mask store at the capital and it'll save you a lot of magic since it'll keep your identity protected.”

Red leaned over the table, eye sockets wide. “dude, you mean i gotta dress up so much?”

“the thing about dancers, red…” Sans lifted his hands up, when Red opened his mouth again, “we’re very dramatic. you'd think only musicians are aggressive—”

“damn fuckin’ right, they’re aggressive!” Red snapped with a shudder. Sans stared at him, mouth agape at his vehemence. “yer dancers, what the hell do they want from me, a damned musician? they put us in orchestra music rehab in our hall fer a reason. then i get chatted up by dancers like some… some kinda spectacle or something.”

Like a what? What exactly had been going on with Red and chatty dancers? Sans eyed Red, and then his clothes and did some quick thinking.

“it’s… probably…”

While Red looked amazing in the black vest and red dress-shirt, his pants were slightly tight for bigger movement. His black shoes were simple slip-on thing and… No. On a regular day, Red would have worn his jacket and loose pants and sneakers. He'd wear his gloves… Ah.

That was it.

Sans’ eye sockets widened. “right. you kind of, uh, look like you might be a dancer, with your normal clothes. you… probably get a lot of offers to dance, right?”

If Sans wasn’t hanging out around Red… did that mean he got a lot of offers? If a dancer walked with another dancer, it meant friendship or partnership, but no one would approach, because it was better to be safe than sorry.

“what.” Red gave him a pitiful-looking flat stare. “d’ya think i moonlight as some kinda ballet dancer on a swan lake? want me to prove ya wrong when i dance the goddamned waltz to electro swing?” Sans muffled a snicker on his jacket sleeve. Red’s eyelights rolled. “if i was a dancer, i wouldn’t have my bow and strings. my percussion ain’t gonna play itself while my twinkle toes move to salsa, nor will my electric guitar sing if i have to do breakdancing.”

Sans snorted and Red threw him an offended look.

“what’s that look for?”

“sorry, didn’t know you had an idea about dancing.” His words drew out a chuckle from Red. His best friend gave him a smug grin.

“i know some. if i gotta scout, i need to learn the moves, sweetheart. that means ya gotta help me out to keep ‘em away, even if there’s a dress code.” And then Red winked. At Sans.

Taken by surprise, Sans flushed and cleared his nonexistent throat, leaning back on his chair. His soul hummed in his ribcage, flustered. “dancers can’t know what your dance style is if you’re completely covered. this means less offers from dancers who seem to be dressed like you. a band means you… uh, have a partner that you’re going for.”

“the bands are what?”

Sans looked away, fingers absent-mindedly tracing the condensation on his glass. “means you have a dance partner, or wish to pursue a prospective dance partner,” he explained quietly, recalling the jacket he’d hidden deep in the closet in the basement. “and, the band means a lot of stuff, so it can get a bit jumbled by the meaning. but, if you want to, you can, uh, approach them. they’ll make it pretty clear if they’re not willing to be… swayed from a prospective partner.”

“but…?”

“but, in general, you might want to stay away,” he suggested, glancing at Red. “some dancers in courtship can be… uh, aggressive, when someone’s trying to interrupt them. they might try to fight you off.”

“oh…” Red’s browridge furrowed. “so it’s a courtship thing, and also not a courtship thing.”

“yep.”

“but how will i know who’s taken or not?”

Sans felt his soul clench at the thought of Red seeking someone. No. Wait, Red had… Bun. His best friend just wanted to know stuff like that.

“bands with a hollow shape aren’t taken, and the ones with a filled shape that’s a different colour from the outline are taken. a broken shape means they’ve been rejected, and a greyed out hollow means their prospective partner is taken.”

“wait—yer sayin’ prospective partner, but all i'm hearing is a lot of pining and telling everyone yer heart’s been broken.”

Carefully, Sans kept his expression blank. “i told you, us dancers can be… just as dramatic as musicians.”

“musician courtship is simpler,” Red told him, “just play music to the person ya like. then they’d tell you to fuck off or stay.”

Sweat dripped at the back of Sans’ vertebrae. “cool. maybe i'll get to see edge be serenaded in the middle of the road one day.”

“he’d gut them.” A smirk had grown on the face of his best friend. “my bro doesn’t like to be put on the spot like that.”

Did Red also… No. Ah. Sans’ mind went to places he shouldn’t visit. Desperately, Sans’ eyelights darted around the bar and then towards their plate.

“speaking of guts…” Sans gestured to their empty plates. “i'm… kinda stuffed. wanna call it a day?”

Any more talking and he’d accidentally spill his so-called guts on Red and red-gret it.

Red’s expression dropped. Instantly, Sans felt his sins crawling over his back as Red scrutinised him. “…yeah, if yer sure.”

“have to do some planning at home.”

Red visibly relaxed. “yer right,” his best friend agreed. “you… ya gotta get going, huh? better let me know if you need me.”

“sure.”

“but, wait, i forgot to tell you ‘bout something,” Red rushed to say, “about the dews.”

Sans paused, and then asked, “what is it?”

His best friend beamed like a star. “i figured out how to make red ones.”

Several seconds later, Sans forgot he was supposed to go home.

———

Notes: This isn't the end, just a part of it. I keep thinking, what if Red doesn't want to hang up their hangout bonding? So Red went ahead to make Sans forget to go home. I tried to avoid more pining Sans while they talked. I also want to add more visuals stuff later.

Got to go. I might write more on the fic later. Schedules have been weird.

* The band meanings will change. This is just a draft.

[ibeta]

progress and plans: The Dancer and His Musician

[The progress and plans] TDAHM 7 has 9k words and more coming. I don't know if I should split it or not.

They're in Grillby’s, with Red focusing on Sans. Really, intensely focused. Sans is trying to shift the topic every chance he gets.

Red gives the invitation card, and Sans tells him it's outdated. Then, he asks Red when he's going. Red tells him he's too lazy for it, so he doesn't know when, but since he figured Edge might get invited by Papyrus, he'd make sure to check it out.

Sans decides to go out that night since he thinks Red isn't going. Red decides to go out that night because he thinks he should check it out immediately. Cue separate magical masked dude transformation. Sans ends up looking ambiguous, and Red ends up looking like a serial killer.

[Bulleted list below]

Current potential paths, some unwritten:

Throwing alcohol on Bun so a wolf can take her home.

Resolving a weird misunderstanding on Bun’s part where she thinks that Red is playing hard to get, and that Edge told her that Red likes to draw it out.

Revealing that Red chose Bun so Edge would know his serial dating thing sucks so hard that he should just give up.

Making Red go to Shyren’s alone, so he can scout the place and realise that Bun was so drunk that she'd told him the outdated information for Shyren’s. (Come on, Bun, it's been almost three years.)

Sans going to Shyren’s and managing to clear the dancefloor with his presence alone (because they know his new dance moves seem to be his true power and they're intimidated by him)

Sans isn't mainly a dancer that can dance many other dances. His main draw is high charisma and seduction, but he and the rest of the world don't know it... He suspects it's something along those lines anyway.

Red seeing a masked dancer moving like sin to yearning music. It doesn't fit the theme, but the dancer makes it work somehow.

Red becoming smitten and curious about the dancer.

Red attempting to stop the dancer from leaving by playing him music with a violin.

Sans shows interest in the musician who came to play music for him. He listens to it and nods along and then leaves with a goodbye.

Red becomes restless and needs to see that dancer again.

Some hints that Red had a musician dedicated to him.

That musician is Sans, back then when he'd been trying to make music for Red. He doesn't know this. Red doesn't know this.

Many misunderstandings and Red being oblivious, and Sans being oblivious.

Dance rules and some weird clothing secrets.

Sans seemingly depressed and Papyrus sees Red attempting to lighten up his buddy. Papyrus calls him an amateur, picks a fight with some musicians, challenges them to a double duel, goes home and lies down on the couch, and acts sad. Sans worries over his sad brother, and Papyrus tells him that he's insecure about his double duel with the musicians. Sans may be incensed.

Papyrus asks for his help, and Sans accepts. Papyrus tells Red to get Edge so they can see what a dance with two monsters would look like in a double battle.

Red finally witnesses Sans dancing and Papyrus is leading. Edge is sweating, Red loses control of his grip and crushes a mustard bottle until it drips all over his hand.

Red realising Sans is a super awesome dancer, and Papyrus is equally as cool. Papyrus tells him the secret to keep Sans moving: mysterious dance tiles that bring out the rave from the graveyard!

Red keeps meeting the mysterious dancer, and they get close enough that the dancer reveals that they still have lingering feelings for their best friend. Red gets a little or a lot attached that he starts to not care that they haven't moved on. He wants the dancer to himself. He doesn't think he'll mind sharing because he still wants a piece even if he can't have other parts of the dancer.

The dancer helps him with dancing, and Red teaches the dancer... except, somehow, the dancer knows how to play music. And, they're pretty good at it, if a bit oblivious about their skill.

Red planning to trap Sans to a rave with his music. We have Sans purposely stepping onto a dance tile, and it attracts many monsters over. Many monsters are dancing, but Red is focusing on Sans and... yep. There it is, Sans moving like he's a magnet, and Red's soul is a piece of metal.

Red experiences a crisis. Sans is hot. His dancer is also hot. His soul is basically split between two people and he's in trouble.

Red confesses his split feelings to the dancer who might have the same experience. The dancer empathises with him, and they become closer.

They have weird ambiguous courtship signals, and they both know that there's another person out there who they love, too.

When... things get hot on a dance, and they get tangled all over, they decide to just pursue the other half. They plan to make a quad. So, Red pays attention to Sans' dance style so Red can dive in and try to grab him home, but—

It takes a sharp sense of movement for Red to realise that Sans' moves and the dancer's moves are overlapping in his head. He figures it out, but he's a sweaty, nervous mess about it, and Sans doesn't know that Red has put things together.

Sans still acts in peace while Red is trying so hard to calm down and settle the dancer's real identity the... next time they meet.

Sans unmasks for Red in the next meeting, smiling at his nervous musician and Red panics, and Sans thinks that it's because Red is still shy. Red is not shy. He's probably going to faint or going to jump him. The pose they have for this revelation is... uh. Yeah, it's in a private cabin. They were dancing together, and things might have heated up a little.

Red's unmasking involves magic smooches. When Sans realises it's him, everything suddenly makes sense, and he's jumping ahead, and they'll probably talk the next day, right?

nope.

The next day?

nope.

The next day after the next day?

nah.

They might not leave the cabin until their weird honeymoon is over. Red is relieved that his feelings aren't split between two people, Sans is relieved it was his best friend all along, and that Red wasn't straight after all.

Missing parts:

There's Sans giving Red a violin that has many skulls on it. It's magical, and the orange in it projects the sound farther.

The dancer told Red that he knew music because he was trying to woo his musician with music.

Red completely overlooks things because he thinks the dancer and Sans are not the same people because Sans can't even joke about music stuff.

Stuff like Papyrus and Edge scenes and more Red and Sans scenes.

—

[ibeta]

progress

The Dancer and His Musician 7: 6,755 words. Revising scenes so Sans and Red can share the chapter. I'm going to move a scene where Red receives video evidence of Drunk Bun and a random wolf, which includes his suddenly knowing laughter. I didn't know it, but he planned to be with Drunk Bun to go against Edge. He was serious about it because he wanted to have a good time, but the moment Bun proceeded into the trap he made, Red tossed her away. Polite about it, too. Didn't care one bit.

The Dancer and His Musician 8: 2,448 words. untouched since last time, trying to finish TDAHM 7 first. Scene contains a secret thing that Sans had done to Red, and one that both of them don't know.

The Judge of Souls 13: 3,485 words. Adding scenes where Papyrus becomes embarrassed and Sans has to drop Papyrus' training wheels. The Judge and The Mercy will officially team up in this one, so Papyrus can show off, and The Judge can act mysterious. And maybe, Papyrus can train... and realize that Sans had been training him all along to become The Mercy to The Judge.

---

currently under antibiotics, and it's making me tired. ugh

have to keep drinking it until friday. hopefully it won't be too bad.

---

(I've made at least 5 more drafts of not my main story and I blame the plot bunny. At least. I'm counting more than 5 and it scares me.)

[ibeta]

Sans sits by the abyss in Waterfall, feet dangling in the darkness. [you’re thinking exactly what’s going to happen.]