9 ~ Comic Sans Gaster

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Another week passed, and that turned into two. The time for the second set of phase one injections came around.

While he did know what was coming, S642 was still nervous about it. It had hurt, a lot, even with the anesthetics.

But he had seen how excited Gaster had been when they had seen that his body had accepted the Determination, and he wanted to make Gaster happy. So, he said nothing about his nervousness.

The night before, S642 once again left his bed and climbed into Gaster's lap. Gaster said nothing, only just let S642 snuggle up against him as he continued checking over the preparations.

And, aside from S642 screaming and thrashing around for a few hours before passing out, everything went well.

~o0o~

Gaster was in the break room for lunch. S642 was currently on the computer in Gaster's lab, looking at fonts. He had spent much of his free time doing so.

Somewhat not-coincidentally, Gaster had pulled a few hotdogs out of the fridge, and had one out and waiting for S642.

Eventually, S642 wandered into the room, looking pleased with himself. He sat at the table.

"Soooooo...."

Gaster glanced up at him. "Yeah?"

"I think I've found it."

"Oh?"

"Trebuchet."

Gaster just stared at him. Finally, "... No."

"You don't think so?" S642 reached for the hotdog, peeling back the foil.

"No. It's too..." Gaster gestured a moment, searching for the right words. "Upright. Proper. Formal. Granted, a Trebuchet is a sort of catapult-type thing-- a weapon-- but... You're more... casual."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Wait-" Gaster stuck out a hand, stopping just before S642 could bite into his hotdog. "Hang on a second before you eat that." He stood, and walked over to the fridge. When he returned, he was carrying a yellow bottle. He passed it to S642. "Here. Try putting this on your hotdog."

S642 accepted the bottle, but hesitated a moment. "What is mustard?"

"It's a condiment." Gaster returned to his seat. "You put it on food."

S642 looked at the bottle a moment longer before shrugging and popping the cap on the bottle. He tipped it over, dumping a generous amount of the yellow condiment onto his hotdog.

When he took a bite, he froze, expression blank.

Gaster looked a little concerned. "What? Not good?"

For a moment, S642 didn't respond. Eventually he mumbled through his mouthful, "... It's amazing."

Gaster chuckled, then just watched as S642 proceeded to scarf down the rest of the hotdog. He looked a little surprised, thought when S642 grabbed up the mustard bottle again, though. "Wait, what are you-"

S642 knocked back the bottle, taking a large swig from it's contents.

Gaster looked shocked. "That's disgusting."

"Nuh-uh." S642 responded, lowering the bottle. "'S delicious."

"No, it's really not. You can't just drink mustard."

"I'm pretty sure I can. I just did. I'm gonna do it again."

Gaster started forward with a hissed protest, but he was too late. S642 had already lifted the bottle again, and was drinking mustard.

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