(This is part of the canon story for Underfamily. Specifically, this story takes place on the first night when Frisk moved into the skelebros house.)
CW: sensory overload, internalized ableism.
We felt like writing this after receiving a very ableist ask (of which we deleted.) We have diagnosed autism, and do not appreciate ableism being directed towards anyone, regardless of whether they are fictional. There is nothing wrong with being on the neurodivergent spectrum.
Frisk couldn't sleep. The couch creaked beneath them with every toss and turn, stiff and frigid in a way they enjoyed for sitting, but not for lying down. Their blanket was too light to give them the stimulation their autism required for proper sleep, nor the warmth they desired in a house surrounded by snow.
But, above all else, they couldn't sleep because of the noise ringing within their mind. Loud, ringing voices, which gave them a migraine.
During the day, it wasn't too hard to deal with. During daytime, there were people to listen to other than the ones inside of their brain. Puzzles to be done. Homework. Cooking. Cleaning. Activities to slip into, to fixate on and forget the world.
But at night, they were too tired to put that effort in, which led them to hear the voices louder than ever.
"Why are they staying with those stupid skeletons anyways? This place is too cold! They could have gone back to The Ruins! Bothered the lady there until she let them back in!"
A gasp could be heard, and the girl Frisk could hear speaking in their mind- Angela - yelped, as if being smacked.
"Papyrus and Sans have been nice to us! You're so ungrateful!"
Frisk made a shushing noise and covered their ears. Slowly, they felt a bubble of shame rise in their chest and lodge itself in their lungs, as they realized how stupid that was. The sound was coming from inside them - they couldn't just block it out.
"...c-can we s-stop arguing p-please? I-I think F-Frisk is t-tired..."
Frisk praised Malo internally, their soul singing a song of gratefulness. He always was the most considerate of their friends.
Or, at least...he used to be...before...
...They pulled the thin blanket closer to their chest, hands trembling. Grief bubbled inside of them, washing through them like waves. The tears that fell from their eyes were like the grief sprinkling out with each time it crashed against the shore of their soul.
"SHIT! We made them cry again!"
"You mean YOU made them cry!"
"p-please...G-Gela, Lulu...y-you aren't helping..."
Frisk desperately squeezed the blanket in their hands repeatedly, trying to use it as a stim toy. But the materiel wasn't right. It didn't squish right. It was too rough...
Frisk suddenly realized just how badly the liquids on their face felt. It was their own tears, they knew that, but it was so gross, gross, gross, gross, they needed it off now.
They tried using their hands, but the teardrops only smeared across their skin, sending a shudder down their spine. The people in their head were arguing, but they were too focused on getting rid of the disgusting tears to care.
They tried to use the blanket, but quickly realized just how much of a mistake it was. The scratchy roughness of the materiel against their face made them yelp, and they tossed the blanket off the couch, bursting to their feet.
They were shaking, their arms and legs were flapping and stomping due to overstimulation, and their face was still wet. It was all too much. They were breathing too sharply and quickly.
They needed something heavy and tight wrapped around them, and they needed it fast. But God forbid they awake and bother the wonderful skeletons who had so kindly allowed them to sleep on their couch.
So, instead of going upstairs, they were digging around the living room. Trying to find anything to help. The couch cushions? No, too big. The spare jackets Papyrus had given them earlier that day? Even all together, they just weren't as heavy as a weighted blanket.
Frisk's vision was getting blurry. They weren't getting enough air in their lungs, and were going to pass out. They shakily forced themself to sit on the floor, their entire body trembling.
Distantly, their friends ...the people in their head were screaming at them, but they couldn't make out what they were saying over their gasping for air, the ringing in their ears, and the pounding of their heartbeat.
Passing out on the floor, with jackets, blankets, and couch cushions scattered around was going to be so embarrassing to explain to the skeleton brothers in the morning.
Their vision was going black, when suddenly, they felt themself get pulled into a tight skeletal hug. The tightness of it was just right. Perfect. It made their body and mind loosen up, each second it went by.
"CAN YOU HEAR ME, SMALL HUMAN??"
The tears on their face were gently wiped off by soft gloves, which they knew belonged to Papyrus. They shakily wrapped their arms around his spine, hoping it would send him the message to not let go. His soul radiated warmth, which Frisk happily bathed in, considering how cold they were.
"I WILL TAKE THAT AS A YES!"
His gentle gloved-hands fell on both sides of their cheeks, lifting their face up towards him. Their vision was cleared enough to just barely make out his kind smile.
Guilt struck through them and twisted in their stomach as they realized their stupid freakout probably woke him up.
"...sorry..." Frisk just barely managed to whisper. It felt wrong, forcing any noise to come out of their throat, especially words. But it would have felt worse not apologizing to him. They always were such a bother...
Papyrus must have noticed how Frisk's lip quivered upon his rejection, so he quickly cleared his throat and clarified.
"BECAUSE!! YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE SORRY FOR! WHAT YOU ARE EXERIENCING IS NORMAL! VERY NORMAL!"
Confusion rushed through Frisk like heavy winds. What about flipping out over blankets and ones-own-tears was by any means "normal?" Nobody they knew had ever done that. Just them. They are the weirdo.
Papyrus and Frisk stared at one another, eye-to-eyesocket. Papyrus smiled at them, with an expression of such strong empathy and respect that Frisk had never experienced before, even from their well-meaning parents back home.
"Do you think he's also...yknow..."
"You don't have to talk about it like its some forbidden curse, dumbass! Just say 'autistic'! The pause makes you sound bad!"
"Well, geez, I'm sorry!"
"...p-please stop yelling...y-youre going to t-trigger Frisk again..."
Frisk couldn't help that their eyes went wide. It...made sense. It made so much sense, that they almost wanted to cry again. They ignored the people in their mind, as they continued to argue amongst themselves.
They focused on their own thoughts. Thoughts of Papyrus.
His interest with the Royal Guard was a special interest. His repeated foot-stomp when agitated was a stim. His struggle making friends...his struggle with social cues...the way he took things too literally, or too metaphorically, just as they did...
Was it possible that its true...?
They wanted to ask Papyrus, but without words, was unsure how. So they did the only thing that made sense to them; they pointed at their head with one hand, pointed at his head with the other, and clasped both hands together, as if asking "are our minds the same?"
Recollection and understanding flashed through Papyrus's expression, and his smile grew wider.
"WHY, YES! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, THINK AS YOU THINK! HOW LUCKY WE ARE, TO BE SO SIMILAR!"
That was all the confirmation Frisk needed. They felt tears building in their eyes once again, and hugged him as tight as they possibly could, wrapping their small arms and legs around his spine, as if he were a lifeline. Two of the people in their head - probably Lucielle and Malo - quietly aww'd at Frisk's actions.
Someone was like them. Someone understood. And the best part was, this someone was cool! Not some freak or weirdo, as they always thought of themself to be. He was nice, and gentle, and awesome.
Everything they always wanted to be.
"AH! I SEE THAT YOU ARE OVERWHELMED!! CERTAINLY, IT IS FROM THE JOY OF BEING SO SIMILAR TO SOMEONE AS GREAT AS MYSELF!"
Frisk nodded, giggling and sniffles as they pressed into the warmth of his soul and the comfortable stiffness of his smooth bones. He wiped every tear that fell from their eyes before it could bother them, and gratefulness and appreciation seeped within their soul.
"NOW!! I MUST SAY, YOU SHOULD HAVE INFORMED ME THAT THE COUCH WAS NOT UP TO YOUR STANDARDS! MY LAZYBONES BROTHER MAY SLEEP THERE, BUT THAT IS NO PLACE FOR SOMEONE WITH HIGH STANDARDS SUCH AS YOU AND I!"
Frisk laughed. It was amusing to know that the "standards" Papyrus spoke of were sensory-related and autistic quirks. It gave them emotions they couldn't properly describe, even in thought. The closest word to it they could think of was "validating."
To know someone thought of their symptoms as respectable enough to be described as "high standards"...it gave them a sense of euphoria they knew they'd never be able to compare to anything else.
"LAUGH AS YOU WILL, BUT I TAKE MY GUESTS QUITE SERIOUSLY!...AND YOU ARE A GUEST FOREVER!...OR AS LONG AS YOU SO DESIRE. SO I WISH FOR THE MOST COMFORTABLE OF STAYS, FOR YOUR EXTENDED TIME WITH ME!"
Papyrus blushed, looking away shyly, before stammering on.
"S-SO! I OFFER YOU...A STAY IN MY BED! WITH ME!...ONLY IF YOU THINK IT IS UP TO YOUR STANDARDS, OF COURSE."
Frisk's heart and soul felt as though they leaped in joy. Cuddling with him? In bed? With those big, definitely heavy, soft-looking blankets they had noticed (and craved) during their tour of the house?
It was the best offer he could ever have made. The people inside of them were chatting excitedly; seemed they agreed, too.
They enthusiastically nodded. They nodded so hard, they felt as though their head would fall off. Papyrus grinned, eyes sparkling with joy, a light blush covering his cheeks.
"NYEH HEH HEH! I KNEW YOU WOULD AGREE! EXCELLENT MINDS TRULY DO THINK ALIKE! NOW! LET US GO AND DREAM OF GREATNESS TOGETHER!"
He stood up, scooping them into his arms as if they were a princess. They squeeled and laughed as he skipped towards the stairs with them, seemingly forgetting about the mess they had made in the living room.
Frisk closed their eyes and allowed themself to tune out the world, listening only to Papyrus's soulbeat and the trousling of bones as he made his way to his room. He carefully set them in his bed - it was as soft and warm as they had imagined - and scooted his way under the blankets with them, prepared for sleep.
The voices in their head had finally decided to be quiet. Perhaps the people inside decided it was time for some sleep for them as well.
Frisk would sleep soundly and warmly, from then on. But, above all else, they would sleep cuddled with their newfound hero and idol. With their newfound brother.
And thats all that mattered to them.
