The living room was chaos.

Blueprints were everywhere. Furniture pushed to the walls. Papyrus stood in the middle, wearing a construction hat (for fashion, not function), holding a color palette in one hand and a measuring tape in the other. You were next to him, sleeves rolled up, holding a notebook where you were sketching ideas for a puzzle-themed hallway.

—"WE MUST HAVE AT LEAST THREE SECRET SWITCHES AND A SPAGHETTI NOOK. NON-NEGOTIABLE."

You smiled and nodded. This was your life now. Engaged to the most dramatic skeleton in the Underground—and loving every minute of it.

Sans blinked from the doorway, ketchup bottle in hand, staring at the mess that used to be his living space.

—"uh. did a tornado of ambition hit the house or…?"

Papyrus turned, absolutely beaming.

—"SANS! JUST IN TIME TO GIVE YOUR OPINION. DO YOU THINK THE WALL SHOULD BE SKELETON-WHITE OR BONE-CREAM?"

Sans blinked again.

—"what’s the difference?"

—"EXACTLY."

He looked at you, then the notebook, then the engagement ring on your finger that was very much not subtle.

—"hold up."

You paused, mid-note.

Sans pointed lazily at your hand.A

—"is that...?"

Papyrus lit up like a Christmas tree.

—"YES, DEAREST BROTHER! I PROPOSED!"

Silence.

Sans slowly turned his head toward his brother.

—"you what?"

—"A GRAND GESTURE UNDER THE NORTHERN LUMINESCENCE OF THE SNOWDIN SKY! I RECITED THREE POEMS, TWO PUZZLES, AND A PERSONALIZED VOW OF LOVE!"

Sans squinted.

—"and you didn’t think to mention this before you gutted the living room?"

Papyrus gasped.

—"I WAS GOING TO! BUT THEN I GOT DISTRACTED BY THE POSSIBILITY OF A PUZZLE-THEMED MASTER BATHROOM."