Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming. The familiar script has been burned into Sans’ memory by now, after the hundreds of timelines where he fights that demon. It's a horrible cycle of fighting, killing, dying, and watching his friends and loved ones die to the child over and over again. Especially his brother. Watching his brother die so many times was the last straw in the cycle of resets for Sans, and the sole reason why he's standing in the corridor right now, fighting a fruitless battle against a possessed child.

He regrets not doing anything sooner.

"on days like this, kids like you,” he lowers his voice a little, adding a threatening undertone to it—not like that does anything to deter the ghost. “Should Be Burning In Hell.” Here we go.

The fight starts out easy enough, both sides having done it many times before. Sans casually dodges a swipe from the knife, sending a wave of bones towards the child.

“what? you think i’m just going to stand there and take it?” He shrugs playfully with a feigned and slightly pained grin.

Technically the child isn't the one he knows, Frisk, as they are being controlled by...something. The king and queen’s adopted human child, that had been dead and reborn into a demon-ghost has possessed the eighth human that fell into the underground and gone on a killing spree for their own amusement, as far as Sans knows. Taking over the kid’s body meant that they also got a hold of their determination.

“you can’t understand how this feels.” Sans summons his blasters, shooting them in a random array of patterns. The kid dodges the blasters with a practiced ease, having died to them dozens of times. It's easy for them now. After all, whenever they die, they'll just go back to how they were before. Which, unfortunately, means that they will stay alive until they QUIT. The effects of the aforementioned determination.

“knowing that one day, without any warning, it’s all going to end.” Sans continues with his monologue. Summoning bones in random ways, he watches with a little bit of sadistic glee at how Chara stumbles at the unfamiliar patterns. The bastard deserves it, after all.

“look, i gave up going back a long time ago.” His eye sockets go dark. “we’ll just end up back here, with no memory of it, right?”

The child takes another ferocious swipe at him and Sans dodges it with ease. Stars, he's getting tired already. You would think that going through this exact battle so many times would at least increase his stamina, at least a little.

Chara doesn’t know that Sans remembers, at least not fully. He gives little hints, but nothing more than that. They knew that he at least knows about the resets, at the very least. All his time-space shenanigans during the pacifist runs hinted at something at least.

In truth, he doesn't remember. At least not fully. Sometimes, he'll just be hit with a sense of deja-vu. Other times, the notes that he writes to himself just don't disappear when the loads happen. Over time, bit by bit, he figures out the rest. And that's why he's here right now.

The wraith ignores his offer for mercy, just like the other times and slashes with their knife. Sans barely dodges that one with one of his shortcuts, seeing that he was distracted and sent his blasters after Chara. The knife slashed a gash across one of his sleeves.

The familiar battle continues for some time.

Sans attacks.

Chara dodges.

Chara attacks.

Sans dodges.

It's a long and tiring battle that seems like it's going to go on forever. Inside the child, Sans can sense their SOUL, overpowered. Frisk is fighting weakly from inside, but is unable to get any progress. The demon’s cage holds strong.

The fight was coming to an end, and Sans let his shoulders slump with exhaustion. He turns their SOUL blue and throws them around the corridor, smashing them into windows and pillars. His movements grow slower and slower as he gets more and more spent. Sans can feel Chara’s breathing speed up with anticipation.

This is it. This is when Sans should die. Except this time, he's prepared. As he pretends to fall asleep, Chara slowly inches towards him, holding their knife out cautiously.

They strike.

Sans slides to the side and grins cheekily. This only angers them further.

“heh, did’ja really think you–” He sends up a wall of bones on their second strike, trapping their wrists together and leaving them imobile.

“hehehheh. not gonna happen, kiddo. not this time.” He turns Chara’s SOUL blue and sends them flying towards him, making them drop their knife in the process.

Keeping them still, Sans closes his eyes, focusing on the image that he's only seen once before. The void, also known as the save screen, is where Frisk and Chara are able to reset the timeline. He knows what the place looks like, although he's never been there himself and while usually he needs the precise location to be able to teleport there, he's determined to do so anyways.

Grabbing the child’s arm, he sends his magic swirling around them in bursts of blue and yellow and they disappear.

The demon rematerializes in the save screen, disoriented from the teleport and the sudden change in scenery. Looking around, they spot the floating icons that allows the other one to load and reset. They walk over, smug that Sans wasn’t able to carry out his grand plan. 

They reach over to the buttons, but was stopped by a faint glow of blue around their arm. Blue magic.

"not so fast, chara"

Sans appears behind their shoulder, startling them. His left eyelight's glowing with a mix of cyan and yellow. 

Patience and Justice.

The demon is still registering the use of their name when Sans attacks. Grabbing their SOUL, he turns it blue and sends them hurtling towards the black background of the void, far away from the buttons. He incases the icons in several layers of glowing white bones.

From their place on the ground, the demon, Chara, laughs. How funny. He really thinks he has a chance to stop them in the save screen. The inky black of the void stops him from being able to hide, and running won’t get him very far.

Oh, this is going to be fun~

Recovering, Chara dashes forwards, intending to catch Sans off guard while he's looking over at the floating buttons. To their surprise, instead of dodging, he catches their wrist as they tried to punch him, and lifts them up to avoid their kick. 

Sans, with a flick of his hand, brings out Chara’s SOUL, revealing the darkness that's covering the child's bright red heart and summons a blaster.

Charging it, he sends it to blast the SOUL. This is a risk. He doesn't know how well this poorly thought out plan will work. To his surprise, however, the dark red instinctively slides off the soul to try to form back together, revealing a glowing red cutting through the darkness. The soul vibrates lightly, just barely holding on after the damage it took but it worked. The kid is free.

Chara was sent flying as Sans tends to Frisk, sending their soul back into their body and healing them with the little amount of green magic he knows until Frisk is sitting around a terrible 2/20 HP. It isn’t great, but it's all Sans can do with the time he has. And all the skill he has.

Now back to the wraith.

Chara’s SOUL had formed a spectral body in the vague shape of a human child, which flies over and tries to grab onto Sans’s neck as soon as he looks up. 

Well, as much of a neck a skeleton can have. It's vertebrae that connects the skull to the body.

Either way, it doesn’t work because Chara's pretty much a ghost now. They scream in frustration and fly off somewhere in the void. Sans uses his blue magic to animate the child's body to press the reset button. The hand slams down on the icon and they disappear.

Sans stands up, dusts off his jacket and teleports behind Chara. They're much farther away from the buttons now. He turns the wraith blue and drags them towards him. They glare at him and struggle but his grip on them is strong. He summons another blaster. It takes a second to charge and it fired.

Chara’s expression before the beam tore them apart is torn between anger, irritation and a little bit of relief. Well, at least they're content now. Hopefully.

Now, to get out of the save screen. There isn't much to lose at this point, so Sans just ends up sending his shortcut magic anywhere he could to escape the awful, endless darkness that makes up the void .

Peter Parker is a normal student. He had friends—correction, friend. Singular friend—his name's Ned, and he's the greatest thing to happen to Peter at this horrible high school. His grades are good, his aunt May is the best aunt he could ever ask for and he is content, if not a little bored. The only annoyance in his life is the school bully (because really, every high school needs one. Otherwise, would it really be called a high school?) Flash Thompson, but he isn't much of a threat. Or anything else, really.

Peter is with Ned at his house right now to build a giant lego death star that they both had been saving up to buy. Lego is damn expensive, and the piece has 4,016 bricks and a lot of intricate instructions. But the boys are nothing but determined to finish what they had worked so hard to buy. The plan is after they finish, they would take turns displaying it in their rooms like a trophy.

“Where is….. the Darth Vader figure?” Peter asks as he looks around the carpet looking for a very specific piece of lego. Ned hands it over to him silently, still focused on the instructions.

Peter makes a triumphant hum as he places the piece in its place. “Woo!” He says with (mostly false) cheer. “We’re finished… half of the star!” 

Ned groans as he surveys the mess on the floor of Peter’s bedroom. “I should probably get going. My Lola is probably getting impatient.”

“Alright. Same time Wednesday?” 

Ned nods as he stands up, stretching after a few hours crouched on the floor. He glances at the digital clock in the corner of the room. 9:42 PM. Startled, as he realizes just how late he is, Ned rushes out of the front door calling a brief goodbye to Aunt May as he leaves. 

May turns to look at the clock as well, before looking back at Peter sitting in the mess of lego bricks and one barely finished death star. 

“Peter, you’d better start cleaning up. Remember, you have school tomorrow.” She says gently. Peter nods and frantically starts to scoop the lego into one massive bin, then shoving it into a corner. He changes and crawls into bed, pretending to fall asleep. 

Around thirty minutes after Aunt May came in and wishes him goodnight, he tiptoes out of bed and changes into his homemade costume, before slipping out his bedroom window. 

You see, Peter is only a normal kid on the surface. He has a secret: he is the vigilante known as Spider Man. He was bitten by a genetically enhanced spider at a school trip to the science center, when one of the 15 that exist escaped its container and bit him. Peter had found himself with super strength, speed, reflexes and the ability to crawl up and stick to walls. 

Most nights, and sometimes during the day too, the “Friendly Neighborhood Spider Man” can be seen swinging on homemade web shooters, scouting out the city of New York for crime to stop. 

Of course, if you attract attention, you attract both the good and the bad. One certain news reporter seems dead-set on trying to figure out Spiderman’s identity. 

One day, Spider Man is out during the day, swinging over the city in search of crime—really, it was amazing how his webs seemed to anchor onto nowhere and his body rush past the city windows like it defies gravity—when his eyes seem to play tricks on him. 

A lone figure, dressed in blue and black, had suddenly appeared on the top of the empire state building. It's like they weren’t there one second, and there the next. With no indication that they were about to just exist in that particular spot. 

Most people would willing to dismiss it as a hallucination, and Spider Man is about to do the same until he swings closer and spots a flash of blinding, bone white under the large grey hood of the jacket. 

Come to think of it, the figure is quite short. They could be no older than a high schooler.

Curious, he swings to the other side of the building and lands with barely a sound. It's quiet enough that most people wouldn’t hear it, but that mysterious person startles and turns around. Except, that isn’t the face of a human. 

It was a grinning, round, white skull.

"sup?"

Chapter Text

Sans isn’t sure how he got to the Surface, but it definitely isn’t what he was expecting. Sure, he’s been to the surface briefly in a few timelines, but the monsters had usually come out to quite a small town. That was nothing compared to the towering skyscrapers and commotion that he finds himself in after he went through the shortcut. 

Dragging up his hood to hide his skull (humans had never taken the fact that he was a skeleton well), he glances around, surveying his surroundings. There are buildings stretching up to the sky, with moving screens attached to them that are flashing bright colours. The ground is paved with roads, cars driving and honking their horns quite loudly. 

Sans looks around for a place that doesn't have much commotion and isn't surprised to find nothing. Next best place is probably somewhere high up. There is that building with that giant needle on top. He warps himself up there. 

The city seems even bigger from up here, stretching far beyond what he can see with the buildings and cranes blocking his view. 

A man appears on one of the moving billboards, loudly proclaiming what Sans presumes to be slander against a certain vigilante called “Spider Man.” A picture of him comes up on the screen.

Suddenly, Sans hears a soft thump behind him and turns around, startled. To his surprise, the aforementioned vigilante seems to have made an appearance. Wearing a bright red and blue costume that is probably just made out of a hoodie, it didn’t take much to figure out that this hero is no more than a teenager. 

He watches the boy stumble in surprise after seeing his face, using a device on his wrist to break off the string that he had swung in on. It's fair enough, Sans supposes. It isn’t everyday that humans see a walking, talking skeleton.

"sup?" He grins at the vigilante.

The vigilante gapes in blatant shock.

“W-What?” Spider Man crouches in a fighting pose, fully intending to either fight or run depending on what happened next. “What are you?”

“hey kid. don’t you know how to greet a new pal?” Sans can’t resist the opportunity. He holds out his left hand for a handshake. The kid hesitates, but cautiously brings up his hand. The unmistakable sound of a fart sounded. 

Sans bursts out laughing as Spidey just stands there in shock, torn between embarrassment and laughter. Holding up his hand to show him the cushion, Sans grins again. “the old whoopie cushion in the hand trick. it’s always funny. anyways, kiddo, what’s your name?”The question feels unfamiliar. Usually, he would be asking whether the kid was a human but considering he's here, it seems kind of obvious. Has he ever asked for the other kid's name?

The vigilante freezes, eyes presumably darting between the hand and Sans’ face, trying to figure out what the heck is going on. It was funny how easy this kid was to read, even with his face covered.

“Uhh, Peter, I guess.” He says eloquently. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s yours?”

Sans squints at him, a little suspicious. Did the kid just give him his name? What sort of illegal vigilante is he if he's just willing to give his name to anyone that asks? That news guy wouldn't be searching for Spider Man's identity for long if he keeps doing that.

“i’m sans. sans the skeleton.” His grin grows wider, not betraying his thoughts. He taps his fingers on the banister as he said it, letting the clink of bone on metal ring out. “so what’s a kid doin’ out here, fighting crime?”

 “How can you tell? My face is covered, isn’t it?” Peter pulls his mask off his head, moving away from the edge of the building. Sans just smirks.

“trade secret.”

“Okay… how did you get up here anyways, Sans? Also where did you come from?”

“c’mon kid. You’re spinning me a yarn here. How do i know you aren’t a spy -der?” He adds the last part of that word on like it's an afterthought, even though it clearly is for the joke.

Peter blinks, then runs his hands through his messy hair. “Were those puns?”

It doesn’t seem like Sans’ smile could grow wider, but it does. “yep. i had to surf the inter- web to find these jokes. appreciate them, won’tcha? they sure fly .” 

Groaning, Peter puts his head in his hands for a moment, then looks up at him. He's hiding a smile. “Can you at least tell me how you got up here?”

Sans cocks his head to the side, thinking. He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. “look this way kid.” He gestures with his head. Sans doens't usually give direct answers to questions, especially about him but he decides to humor the kid.

Peter looks over, confused. His eyes widen as he realized Sans is just standing there, leaning casually on a wall. He whips his head back around to where Sans was before, to see him standing in the same position as last time. 

Chuckling, Sans meets Peter’s eyes with his eyelights, then disappears. He reappears on the other side of the building. 

“That was so cool! So you can teleport? You have powers too? When did you get them? How did you get them?” Peter runs to Sans, pelting him with question after question causing him to hold his hands up in surrender.

“whoa, kiddo. calm down.” Peter reluctantly backs down and sat against the wall. Sans' grin grows wider the more Peter gets impatient waiting for an answer that won't come. Finally, Peter just groans and sits down. They sit like that for a moment.

Sans startles as Peter suddenly jumps up and pulls on his mask. “I know! I could take you to my house, if you have nowhere else to go. I’m guessing you don’t have anywhere to stay, do you?” He says, putting off the questioning for another time. Sans just shrugs.

"i appreciate the offer kiddo, but—"

As suddenly as he got up, Peter slid back down to the floor, slapping his hand to his forehead and interrupting Sans in the process. “You don’t have a disguise or anything, do you? People might...freak out if they see you.” 

“nope.” Sans replies, shaking his head. “how about you go home, and i’ll come over and find you once i figure something out?” He asks, resigned to the fact that he doesn't know where to go either way.

Peter brightens immediately. “That could work! See you tomorrow? My house is right over there.” He directs, pointing at a house in the middle of a block. 

“yep. see ya kiddo.” Sans gives no more warning than that as he—almost lazily—steps off the edge of the roof, falling down and out of sight. Peter rushes over to the side, expecting to see Sans falling down, presumably to his death, but he's nowhere to be seen. His hand goes back to his forehead as he remembers Sans’ teleportation. He had forgotten in his panic. Slumping down, he pauses to catch his breath.

Sans chuckles as he watches Peter panic from his place on the ground. His shortcut is still partly open, allowing him to still see what is going on. Funny.

“I will do whatever is in my power to see that Spider Man is brought to justice! He can’t keep terrorizing the poor, innocent citizens of New York any longer!” The speakers attached to the screens starts blaring as the local news come on. So this city was called New York. Good to know.

Spotting a Library—"librarby"— he walks in, and shortcuts his way to a seemingly abandoned corner that's filled with books.

Someone walks past the entrance and does a small double-take at a hooded figure that suddenly occupies the space, reading.

Sans is far too focused on the book to notice the stranger standing there staring for a moment, then shaking their head and moving on.

Hmm, skrulls. Creatures with the power to change their shape at will. It makes Sans wonder… could he do that? Change the shape of the magic that makes up his form? 

If he can, that would make living in this dimension a lot easier. If only there's one around here he could find, and try to copy their magic. It wasn’t impossible. He had done it before, back when he was first learning about his magic. Being one of the only monsters that's skilled enough to be able to use all the colors of magic on the spectrum (not that he's bragging or anything), it's quite easy to spin them around until they did what he wanted them to do. He had done a lot of experimenting once he found out, after all.

Another being able to change their shape, or rather make it appear as though they did, is Loki, norse god of mischief and trickery. Sans had once found a book of Norse mythology washed up at the dump, almost unreadable, but good enough to read to his brother as a bedtime story. He left out the violent parts though, which was admittedly, most of the book. Loki was one of Sans’ favorites from that book though, being a prankster like him albeit a much more evil one.

It's amazing how much knowledge a single building can contain. Sans has been sitting in the corner for hours now, and the library had long since closed. Fortunately for him, no one had bothered to check his corner so technically he can stay as long as he wants. Walking over to the front desk, Sans checks the schedules of the workers. They wouldn’t be coming back until 8 in the morning. Plenty of time to test his theory. 

Gathering his magic, he let it coat around him in a protective layer. Selecting a few colours–purple, cyan, orange and red, he wove them together.

Purple—Perseverance. To transform.

Cyan—Patience. To focus.

Orange—Bravery. To strengthen

Red—Determination. To will the changes into being.

The different colours each play a different role, and Sans has to choose the right mix of traits for the magic to succeed. Magic slowly began weaving together. He makes sure not to use too much red though, as that could be fatal for monsters, but he has a higher tolerance than most. He needs it to make this work, after all. 

Keeping a steady flow of magic towards the colours, he adds a little more orange, weaving in between the others like a safety net. As the magic that was building up was released, a bright flash lit up the building, sending a large pulse of magic out into the world.

Whoops. So much for laying low. If magical creatures outside of monsters did exist, at least one of them would be able to sense magical energy. Oh well, that was for Future Sans to deal with. Present Sans has enough problems right now.

Opening his eye-sockets, not realizing that he has them closed, he realizes that the spell worked. It's good enough for an experiment, as Sans now looks like a pale teen with white hair. It's decent for a first try anyways. White is a suspicious but he could make it work. Not that he has any better ideas. Hmm. Hair. It was a weird feeling.

Morning light is starting to shine through the library windows as Sans CHECKS himself. HP, DF, AT, all 1. He had used about a half of his absolutely massive magic reserves doing that spell, which doesn’t happen that often. Most of the time, only a little bit of magic is gone by the end of the day. Oh well, he still has a lot to spare, and it will replenish by tomorrow anyways.

He has some time to kill now, as Peter's likely in school. He puts his hood back on and closes his eyes, searching for Peter’s faint trace of magic with his shortcuts. Yep, he's in school. Finding a forest a few miles outside the city, he takes a shortcut there with some library books. He’ll return them later. 

Reading in the woods, listening to the birds and crickets chirp is strangely peaceful. Sans misses the feeling. Constant battling and time travel has not done much for his stress levels. But now that the danger had passed, he can just.

Relax.

It's a nice feeling.

Chapter Text

Peter's having a great day. Walking through the door to his apartment, listening to music on his earbuds, he can hear May talking to someone through the wall. She never mentioned bringing anyone over earlier. It might have something to do with the fancy car that's parked outside the building. As far as Peter knows, no one in his area has enough money to buy something that expensive. And extravagant. They wouldn’t be living here otherwise. 

Peter walks to the living room, greeting his aunt as he does so. “Hey, May.”

May looks over and smiles at him. “How was school today?” She asks. 

“Okay.” Peter takes his backpack off and sets it in the corner. “There’s this crazy car parked outside–” He looks up and sees the mysterious other person that May was talking to earlier. It was none other than Tony Stark, Head of Stark Industries and one of the most famous people in the world. He's also one of the leaders of the Avengers, saving crime as the superhero known as Iron Man. Peter does a double take between him and May, pulling off his earbuds in the process.

“What–What are you doing he–...? Hey! I-I’m Peter.” He stumbles as he tries to sort the thoughts whirling around in his head.

“Tony.” Mr Stark replies with a careless attitude, as if Peter doesn’t know who he is already. 

Peter’s eyes widen. “What are you– What are you doing here, Mr Stark?"

“It’s about time we met. You’ve read my emails right?” 

“Yeah. Yeah.” Lies. He had never stuttered more in his life. This is embarrassing, to say the least. 

“Right?” Tony's giving Peter a very interesting look, tilting his head towards May.

“Regarding the…” For the life of him, Peter can't think of anything to say, interpreting that as a “please go along with this so that I don’t embarrass myself in front of your aunt” look.

Fortunately, May comes in to save the day. Albeit, not intentionally. “You didn’t tell me about the grant.”

“The grant.” 

“The September Foundation.” Tony supplies, shooting another look in May’s direction. 

Peter sweats nervously. “Right.”

“Remember when you applied?” 

He nods. “Yeah.”

May also sends a glance at Peter, frowning a bit. “You didn’t tell me anything. What’s up with that? You keeping secrets from me now?”

Paling, Peter shakes his head. “I just–I just know how much you like surprises, so I thought I would let you know if I got in…What did I apply for again?”

Seeming to accept that answer, May sits back. Tony leans forward instead, as much as he can with the back of the couch in the way. “That’s what I’m here to hash out. “

“H-Hash out. Okay.” Peter turns and beckons Tony to follow him, the latter doing so in relief. It's clear that he wants to get out of that situation, although for what reason is unknown. He's still chewing a bite of food that May gave him for some reason. The moment that he enters Peter’s room, Tony rushes to the washroom and spits it out. He walks out with dignity, brushing invisible dust off of his suit jacket. Peter stares at him in disbelief.

Turning to look at the state of his room, Peter is startled to see someone sitting on his bed, leaning casually against the wall and looking down at their phone. They are wearing a blue hoodie over their hea… wait. He knows someone that wears that hoodie. It's unmistakable, right down to that large gash on the left sleeve. 

“Sans?” Peter blurts out. Tony turns to look at him—and the other person—closely. Sans turns to look at them as well…except he isn't Sans. Well, not Sans in the way that he's a skeleton. That person under the hood is clearly human, a very pale human with unnatural, blinding white hair. A teen. 

“ayup, ki–...” This is definitely Sans, with that deep voice. But how? Could he have figured out a way to disguise himself that quickly? Sans quickly catches himself, as calling Peter “kid” would have been a little weird considering he currently looks like a teenager. “...peter. howzit goin’?”

Peter stares in open shock for a second, before remembering that Tony was still in the room. Turning to him nervously, he introduces the two: “Mr Stark, meet Sans. Sans, Tony Stark.” 

“Hey kid.” Tony greets, still staring at the newcomer. Well, technically, they're the newcomers, but eh, semantics. 

Sans snorts when he hears what Tony called him. Monsters live a very long time, and while he wasn't that old, he's definitely much older than he looks right now. Monster years and human years are different, are they not? Alphys had been trying to figure that out for a while.

“Sans?” 

Sans is brought out of his thoughts by Peter, who snaps his fingers a good distance away from his face, not wanting to be rude. 

“heh, sorry. zoned out for a minute there.” Sans lazily leans back against the bedpost. “what did you want to talk about anyways?” 

Tony finally stops staring at Sans and looks over at Peter. “I wanted a few minutes to talk to Peter.” He tilts his head, clearly hoping that Sans will catch on. Unfortunately for him, he did not. Well he did, but he ignores it. 

Sitting back, Sans shrugs. “alright.” He does not move. Tony glances at Peter again, who also shrugs and leads Tony over to the other side of the bed. 

“What did you want to talk about, Mr Stark?” Peter asks. “I definitely didn’t sign any grant.” 

“Ah-ah.” Tony wiggles his finger like an overbearing parent. He shoots one more suspicious look at Sans, then says, “me first.”

“Quick question of the hypothetical variety.” He pulls out a phone and turned it on. Sans can vaguely make out Spidey swinging from the rooftops. “That’s you, right?”

Peter pales. He begins stuttering out an answer, but is interrupted by Sans.

“quick question of the rhetorical variety, starky. this is you, right?” He holds up his phone. It is a close up of Tony’s face inside the iron man suit. 

Tony’s eyebrows raises up to the sky as he tries to figure out how Sans got the picture. 

“Hey! Where the–?”

“someone hacked into your suit and posted it onto youtube.” Sans provides an answer. He leaves out the fact that it's him who did it. The suit is ridiculously easy to get into, somehow. His old days of working with machines is coming into use.

Tony sputters, but tries to hide it. “My suit might be the most protected piece of technology on the planet! How–?” 

Sans leaves the poor man to figure it out himself as he winks in Peter’s direction. Not that it does much to help. Peter is sweating up a storm as he waits for Tony to finish muttering to himself.

“Alright! How that happened doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.” It's amazing how quickly Tony recovers. It was almost like this happens often.

“Anyways, who else knows?” Tony asks, redirecting his attention back onto Peter.

He startled. “Uhh, no one?”

“No one? Not even your…unusually attractive aunt?”

“N-No. Wait, what?”

But Tony already moved on, ignoring both Peter and Sans and grabbing a broomstick from a corner of Peter’s room. He uses it to force open the door of the attic, and catches Peter’s suit as it drops from the ceiling. Peter jumps up and snatched it from him as it falls. Sans starts to tune out the rest of their interaction, focusing on his new phone that he definitely did not steal.

His brain suddenly registers the sound of a device going off. Tony’s hand is webbed to the door.

“Don’t tell Aunt May.”

“Alright, Spider Man.” Tony says, uncharacteristically serious.

The two share a knowing look before Tony returns to his usual attitude. He gestures with his other hand. “Get me out of this.”
Peter dashes forwards, almost tripping over his own feet in his rush to do so. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

Tony leaves through the front door, waving to May.

Sans and Peter watches him go.

“interesting man, isn’t he?” Sans asks. Peter nods slowly, still processing what had just happened. May looks over at Sans. 

“And who might this be?”

“the name’s sans. nice to meet’cha.” He holds out his hand and May shakes it. There's no whoopie cushion this time, because that would be extremely awkward.

“Nice to meet you too, Sans. I can’t help but wonder when you got here.” 

He just winked. “trade secret.” It was the same answer he gave Peter when they met yesterday. May just smiles. 

One awkward conversation later, Peter and Sans are back in Peter’s room. “so.” Sans says slowly. Peter looks over at him, wide eyed. 

“Sans. How in the world are you human now?” He watched as Sans shrugs infuriatingly. Suddenly, a bright flash fills the room, and Sans is back to his bony self. Raising his hands in a lazy imitation of jazz hands, he winks and says:

“magic.” 

Peter slaps his hand to his forehead. “Do you ever give answers that aren’t vague as hell?” 

“nope. straight answers don’t fly as well, do they?” He frowns. “you would think I would have more spider puns, literally having one as a friend.” 

Peter points to himself questioningly, but Sans shakes his head.

"another spider friend. much more literally as well. 8 limbs and all that jazz” He surrounds himself in blue light, which spreads out into the vague shape of arms, mimicking a spider. 

Peter can't stop himself from gaping, wide eyed at the display of magic. Sans smirks, and the light suddenly disappears. Suddenly, there's a ringing of a doorbell. They can hear May’s footsteps as she rushes to open the door for whoever’s on the other side. Another flash happens, and Sans looks like a human once more. May comes into the room. 

“Peter, Tony’s assistant is outside, waiting for you.” Peter rushes to his feet and runs out the door. May turns to Sans. “Peter is going to be leaving for a few days for an internship. Hanging out might have to wait.” 

Sans shrugs for the–what? Fiftieth time today? And grins. “no probs. I guess I’ll be heading home now.” Leaving through the front door, Sans sees Peter talking animatedly to the new guy, who's grumpily shoving things into a trunk. May waves at both of them from the entrance as Sans shuffles off. As soon as he turns a corner, he takes out his phone and googles Stark Industries. Large place. It's presumably where Peter's heading. Deciding to just meet them there, he takes a shortcut outside. Pulling out a book, Sans takes a seat beneath a tree and waits. 

Patience is the virtue of man, or something like that. It's funny how many things the Surface internet has to offer in terms of random inspirational quotes. 

“Hey! It’s you again! How the hell did you get here so fast?” Looking up from his book, Sans watched as Tony Stark stomped up the hill. 

“sup, iron man.” Sans thought for a moment, then grinned. “hey, did you know that iron on the periodic table has the letters fe? if you put that in front of male…?” 

A snort came from behind Sans. Someone wearing a black bodysuit, sporting short red hair walked over to Tony and punched him in the arm, as he stood there, grouching.

“C’mon Tony, that was a good one.” She pulled him closer and stage whispered: “You know I’m never going to let you forget that, right?” 

Groaning, Tony dragged a hand down his face. He looked back at Sans. “Hey, you! Answer my question.”

“Well, how did you get here so fast?” Sans was nothing if not good at deflecting. A honk sounded as the car from earlier pulled into the driveway. Tony and the other person looked over. By the time they looked back, Sans was already gone.

Chapter Text

Iron Man is flying through the air with War Machine. Both are tracking the trail of the runaway Captain America, which is leading them towards an abandoned airport. Tony can still see the last of the airport staff evacuating through cars. Captain America is running towards a grounded helicopter. He shoots an electric-disabler at the chopper, grounding it. The Captain looks up—not very surprised—as the two descend.

“Wow, it’s so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don’t you think that’s weird?” Tony snarks as he glares at the Captain, taking off his helmet. Rhodey flies in beside him and nods. 

“Definitely weird.”

Steve sighs heavily and pleads with them. “Hear me out Tony. That doctor, that psychiatrist, he’s the one behind this.” He looks extremely desperate—needing Tony to understand, but unable to find the right words.

Tony ignores him. Glancing to his right, he watches as the Black Panther leaps over a truck, fluid as a cat. He nods towards Steve. 

“Captain.” His deep voice sounds out. Steve gives a nod back. 

“Your Highness.” 

Ignoring him too, Tony plows on with what he was saying. “Anyways, Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. That was 24 hours ago.” He paces over to the other side of Rhodey.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Steve frowns. “You’re after the wrong guy.”

“Your judgement is askew. Your war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.” Tony fires back, bristling. 

Sans’ eyes widens from where he stands listening in, a few steps behind where Peter, dressed in a schnazzy new Spider Man suit, is doing the same. Killed innocent people? Using an almost invisible amount of yellow magic, he performs a CHECK on the people standing there. 

Iron Man

HP: 39

AT: 50

DF: 50

EXP: 187

LV: 2

*A genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist*

Captain America

HP: 46

AT: 75

DF: 50

EXP: 334

LV: 3

*Magically enhanced from an experiment*

Black Panther

HP: 24

AT: 68

DF: 64

EXP: 40

LV: 1

*The King of Wakanda.*

War Machine: 

HP: 20

AT: 25

DF: 35

EXP: 15

LV: 1

*Military pilot and Tony’s best friend.*

Spider Man

HP: 20

AT: 70

DF: 30

EXP: 0

LV: 1

*Bitten by a genetically enhanced spider.*

That red headed woman from earlier walked up to the men. “Steve, you know what’s about to happen. Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?” 

Black Widow

HP: 72

AT: 75

DF: 70

EXP: 613

LV: 5

*A Russian spy and assassin.*

That woman is much more dangerous than the others. Sans makes a note to watch out for her. She moves fluidly, confidently; the stride of someone that knows exactly what they are doing.

“Alright, I’ve run out of patience. Underoos!” Tony calls, bringing his hands up to his mouth. In front of Sans, Peter tenses, then whispers something to his phone that he—for some reason—has out. Turning and shoving the still-recording phone into Sans’ hands, he crouches, preparing to jump. He then turns around, shocked, whispering: 

“Hey! When did you get here?” Sans just shrugs.

On the other side of the truck they were hiding behind, Tony's starting to get a bit impatient, loudly tapping his metal covered foot against the concrete. Peter’s eyes widen.

Jumping out from behind the truck, much higher than any normal human would be able to jump, he shoots out a web that latches onto Captain America’s shield, pulling it from him. Still in midair, he fires another web that binds his hands together and lands on top of another truck in a crouched position.

“Nice job, kid. A bit late on the count there.” Tony gives a slightly proud smile.

“Thanks. Well, I could have stuck the landing a little better. It’s just–new suit. I-I mean, it’s nothing Mr Stark, it’s–it’s perfect. Thank you.” Tony interrupts before Peter can go off on a tangent. 

“Yeah, well, we don’t need to start a conversation here.” He grumbles.

“Right. Hey everyone.” Peter waves. Cap waves back.

Seeing that they're about to start arguing again, Sans relocates to a safer position—on the airport’s roof. Hiding over the edge, he looks over just in time to see Peter get kicked in the chin by a guy wearing a red suit, who definitely was not there a second ago. 

Then Sans notices the small waves of magic that comes off the suit. It's quite a complicated piece of magic mixed with technology. It's a bit haphazard, like the technology is supposed to be a prototype. Small guy turns big. Or maybe big guy turns small and then big again. Same thing. 

It's much harder to hear what’s happening from up here, but Sans doesn't particularly care anyways. 

Tony starts talking into a radio. The small dude faces that Black Widow person and she kicks him in the gut. Peter shoots a web and swings onto the roof of the airport, seeing Sans but pays him no mind, diving through a hole in the glass and kicking a guy with mechanical wings. Another person tries to punch him, but he catches it easily.

Sans feels a pulse of magic along the side of the airport, and turns to see a woman throwing cars at Tony, surrounding them in dark red magic. She then levitates herself and flies towards another flying person with a glowing yellow rock in their forehead who's using it to create a laser, blowing things up. 

Hearing Peter yell, Sans turns back just in time to see a flying device carry him off. Instinctively catching him with blue magic, he sets them both on the ground, giving Peter a thumbs up as he looks up. 

Peter’s eyes darts between him and the machine, before shaking his head and swinging away, meeting the rest of the people in the middle of a courtyard. 

Each team stands on their own side, facing each other, slowly walking towards each other, far away enough that Sans could not make out what any of them were saying. The walking gets faster and faster until they're sprinting to get to each other. The fight begins anew. 

The cat dude is fighting a guy with a metal arm. Widow ninja person is fighting Arrow Guy. The woman from earlier watches the fight in the distance. She stops someone's kick with her powers. Sans admires the complex weave of different colours spinning together. Red. Determination. Powerful stuff.

A crash sounds out in the courtyard, and a large wave of magic suddenly shoots out, wrapping around the guy with the red suit. He suddenly grows, grabbing onto Iron Man 2.0’s foot as he tries to fly away. 

“Ohh-kay. Tiny dude is big now. He’s big now.” He yells. War Machine is thrown but is caught by Spidey’s webs. Peter then shoots strings onto the big guy’s helmet, swinging around and around him like a giant pole. 

“Have you guys ever seen that movie? Empire Strikes Back?” Yelling, he swings around again, trapping Red Suit’s arms to his body. “You know that part…where they’re on the snow planet…with the walking thingies?” His voice gets progressively more loud as his swinging gets faster and faster. 

The two tin cans fly into the air, blasting Red until he falls over. His flailing limbs hit Peter off into the distance. Sans catches him with magic—again—just before he hit the ground, shortcutting his way over. 

“sup kid. you alright there?” He grins at the kid.

Disoriented, Peter staggers around, but then straightens up, nodding. He winces, rubbing his temple. The loud roar of Tony’s suit as he flies over can be heard miles away. Sans gives Peter a quick salute, then disappears. 

Reappearing closer to the fighting, he watches the chaos unfold. Magic-rock-in-the-forehead kneels next to that magic woman as she tries to catch her breath. Placing a radio next to where his ears would be, the man says something into it. He then takes aim and fires his laser at Bird Dude, who tucks into a roll, dodging the blast. The laser overshoots and hits War Machine in the chest.

The suit loses power.

He falls.

Iron man and Bird dive bombs him, trying to catch him before he hits the ground. 

They're too late.

Chapter Text

Tony can't believe what just happened.

 First of all, Captain America, one of the world’s first and best heroes, has turned into a criminal just to save his—probably insane at this point—friend that was frozen in ice and thawed out several decades in the future, who murdered King T’Chaka along with dozens of innocent people and escaped imprisonment. Cap's probably also insane at this point too on second thought. 

Secondly, the United Nations. Tony did not have the patience to deal with them. He has enough problems already, he doesn't need idiots that go on and on about the fucking greater good while splitting up the Avengers during a time of crisis.

 Well technically, the splitting up happened before the time of crisis, but might as well blame them anyways. He didn’t have anything better to do.

His internal ranting grinds to a halt as he spots Scott Lang suddenly enlarge, grabbing Rhodey by the foot as he tries to fly away. Oh, no he doesn't. 

“Give me back my Rhodey!” He yells as he flies towards the two, the sudden change in momentum nearly upsetting his balance. A certain Falcon appeared in front of him and knocks the wind out of him, slamming feet first into his chest. Pain flares throughout his body, as he falls towards the ground.

Distantly, he can hear Peter yell, “I got him!” Lang sends Rhodey flying, and Peter catches him in a web. Shooting more webs onto Lang’s helmet, he starts swinging, wrapping the behemoth. 

“Have you guys ever watched that really old movie? Empire Strikes Back? ” 

Rhodey calls to him, “jeez, Tony. How old is this guy?” 

“I don’t know. I didn’t carbon-date him. He’s on the young side, okay?” Tony grumbles. Getting back into the air, he watches as the kid swings around and around. 

“You know that part…where they’re on the snow planet? …With the walking thingies?” Peter’s voice gets progressively more loud with every spin. The webs have started to bind Scott’s legs together, causing him to be more and more unstable. Tony whistles appreciatively.

“Maybe the kid’s onto something here.” 

Rhodey’s voice comes through the radio again. “High now, Tony. Go high.” He flies towards the feet, blasting him and upsetting his balance. 

Tony understands immediately, flying towards Scott’s head. Shooting the helmet, he causes the giant to trip over his own feet. 

Scott falls with a crash, hitting Peter with his flailing arms in the process. 

Startled, Tony shoots towards where he watched Peter fall just to see him standing back up. He looks a little disoriented, as is expected when someone gets hit with a giant limb but is otherwise alright. Still, it doesn't hurt to check.

“Hey kid, you okay there?” Tony calls. Peter gives him a thumbs up, and rubbed his head. Kid must’ve been hit over the head. “Alright, you’re done. Let’s get you home now.” 

Peter just groans. He walked over to the nearest box and sat down. He then flops over and proceeds to stare at the sky. “I’m okay Mr Stark. You should focus on the escapees.” He sits up quickly. “That was awesome! And a little scary, but mostly awesome! Do you do this often?” 

Tony doesn't catch the last bit of that sentence, already flying away after hearing mentions of escapees. He makes it just in time to see Vision attempt to shoot Falcon’s thrusters. Sam tucks into a roll, just missing the laser by a few inches. 

The laser overshoots, hitting Rhodey dead on in the middle of his chest. 

It's like Tony's watching this in slow motion. 

The suit lights flicker, then shut off completely. 

Rhodey begins to fall. 

Snapping out of his shock, Tony activates his thrusters and rushes to catch him before he hits the ground. Beside him, he can see that Falcon is doing the same. Vision is frozen in shock on the ground, with Wanda Maximoff beside him, eyes wide. 

Neither of them have the time to do anything, and as Wanda reaches out her hand to try to slow the fall, it was already too late.

Rhodey hit the ground.

Or, he would have hit the ground, but at the last second, a figure glitches into existence.

A hand is raised and a blast of white shoots out, aimed directly at the ground, slowing their fall. 

Saving Rhodey's life.

A massive cloud of dust kicks up around the team.

The figure disappears before anyone could get a good look. All this had happened in a split second, faster than anyone could react. 

Falcon said it the best: “What. The. FUCK.”

The others snap out of their shock. Tony and Vision rush over to Rhodey, frantically checking to see if he's alright. FRIDAY runs a scan, but he's doing okay. It would’ve been much worse had he landed at full speed. Falcon tries to help but is blasted back by an angered Tony.

Wanda just stares in shock. The aftereffects of magic still ripples through the air, fluid and full of power. Even she, one of the most powerful magic users in the universe—who was on par with literal gods and wizards—would need to extend most of her strength just to even reach that level of power, let alone use it. And yet, that mysterious figure did it with ease. Almost like it was second nature.

Not that they used it all. The blast they extended was only a fraction of the ripples. Most of it came from the user themself, almost like an aura of sorts. Letting other people of magic know what they were dealing with, just like the aura she creates when she taps into her Chaos magic. Dark. Powerful. Immense. Capable of shaping reality.

Pure, undiluted magic.

Teleporting over to where most of the fighting was happening, Sans sits back against a tree and watched. The battle had moved to the sky, with Iron Man and War Machine fighting Bird Dude. Two figures are on the ground, the woman from earlier and that floating red guy with the rock in his forehead. A laser is shot. It missed.

It hits War Machine, causing him to fall. Iron Man and Bird Dude tries to catch him. They fail.

 Hitting the ground at that speed would be fatal, or at the very least cause life threatening injuries. As intense as the battle had been, that would be too far. Sans decides to intervene. 

War Machine is barely a second away from hitting the ground. But then again, a split second was more than enough time. He takes a shortcut, causing him to start falling down next to the hero. 

He shoots a blast from the palm of his hand, stirring up dirt and dust from the ground. Gently setting War Machine on the ground with a bit of blue magic, he then warps out before the dust can settle. A good distance away from the action, Sans listens in through a shortcut. 

“What. The. FUCK.” That was Bird Dude. An appropriate reaction.

 A shuffle of footsteps can be heard as multiple people rush over to War Machine—multiple apologies followed. But what Sans was most interested in was that magic woman’s reaction. Her expression told him that she can sense the magic he used. Whoops. Strike two for not laying low.

Her face shows a mix of awe, fear and a little bit of admiration.

She must be sensing the natural energy that monsters give off whenever they use magic. The stronger the spell, the stronger the feeling.

Oops.

Sirens wail as an ambulance drives up to where the heroes were sitting. Rhodey is loaded in and rushed off to the nearest hospital. 

Sans reaches into his pocket and pulls out Peter’s still-recording phone, which he had shoved there after he got it. Tapping the stop button, he deletes the last clip and sends it back to Peter’s bedroom.

Stars, he was really overdue for a nap. Shrugging to himself, he takes a shortcut back to the forest where he had stashed the library books, and just falls asleep on the ground, in the damp, dewy grass.

Mr Stark’s chauffeur and assistant, Happy Hogan—who in all honesty, does not look happy at all, despite his name—drives Peter home after the big fight.

That was when he realized he left his phone with Sans and has absolutely no idea where to find him. The skeleton doesn't seem to have a set place he stays at, usually popping in whenever he wants using his teleportation. That means he probably took off with Peter’s phone. 

Fortunately for him, his phone is sitting on his nightstand when he got home, safe and sound. 

Happy—hypocritically—grumpily brings Peter’s luggage in for him, despite numerous protests that he can do it himself. Honestly, it was like the man does everything in his power to not live up to his name. 

“Really? I get to keep the suit? Are you sure?” Can be heard as Peter comes in with Happy. May comes in and greets him cheerfully while also introducing herself to Happy, who looks a bit less grouchy as he introduces himself back. 

Peter sidles out the door as the two begin making small talk. He was never one for conversations, mostly because most of them are extremely boring. They were just endless streams of meaningless questions, when in reality no one actually cares all that much.

Maybe Peter can enroll Sans into his school. He certainly looks like a teenager now, and it will help ease suspicion off of him; Mr Stark looked suspicious of him when they first met.

It isn't unusual for students to come during the middle of a semester anyways.

He should probably ask Sans first. Does he have a phone number? Peter had completely forgotten to ask last time, seeing that he was extremely distracted. Oh well. He will probably come over tomorrow anyways.

Chapter Text

On the other side of the city, Sans has the exact same idea. Enroll into school, huh? Wouldn’t be the first time he had to forge some legal documents. That's how he landed so many jobs to take care of his brother in the first place. 

What’s a few more? Actually, in order to get into high school, he would need to forge an entire list of past schools, grades and extracurricular activities into a file, then create and fill out specific paperwork in order to even be able to get into the school during the middle of the year according to this Google search. 

Add a social security number, address, insurance provider and public health card to the mix, and he will finally be able to apply. And that’s assuming the school even accepts the stuff. 

Why are humans be so complicated? To get a job in the Underground, all Sans had needed was a resume. That's it. Simple. ...Not that he didn't forge that either.

Good thing that public schools are government paid, otherwise Sans would need either a guardian or parent figure that has a history of income. And the income, obviously.

Sighing, he sits down and starts typing. Ahh, politics. 

Not his strong suit. 

He wishes politics bear is here. They will probably know what to do. Maybe. That's debatable, actually.

RING! RING! The alarm clock sounds. Peter wakes up with a start. Right, he has school today. Yesterday, he was unlucky enough to get thrown into walls and stuff during that intense battle. 

Come to think of it, he doesn't remember if Mr Stark actually told him why the Avengers were fighting each other. If he didn’t tell him, then he probably doesn’t need to stick his nose into their business, he supposes. 

Speaking of which, Peter is still incredibly sore from the fight; he considers calling off school today but ultimately decides that he will just deal with it. It would seem suspicious that he wants to stay home immediately after he gets back from his “internship” with Tony Stark.

Groaning, he rolls out of bed and changes out of his pajamas. After brushing his teeth and eating breakfast, Peter picks up his backpack and starts walking towards school. He hums quietly to himself, unaware of the person that sidles up to him from the shadows.

“sup?” 

Peter yelps and jumps back. He looks up from his place on the ground to see the grinning face of Sans, his hands casually shoved in his pockets.

“Sans! Do you ever not do that?” Peter’s voice rises two octaves before the end of the sentence. He's still jumpy from the battle and had nearly punched Sans. The person (skeleton?) just shrugged, smile growing wider. 

Peter recovers quickly and gets into pace with Sans, who is lazily walking towards the school. He waved a piece of paper around. “so, i got into your school, in case you were wondering why i’m here. i figured it would lesson the chances of everyone being suspicious of me.” 

Peter just gapes, having thought the exact same thing—minus the pun—but had gotten stuck on the how part of that plan. Seemed like Sans had figured it out—in record time, too. 

He doesn’t ever seem to sleep, always getting things done during the time Peter goes home for the night.

The two round a corner and the high school appeared. People are streaming into the building by the dozens, all chatting happily (and loudly). A group of children run past them, screaming as they chased each other. Sans visibly winces, although he tries to hide it.

He walks quickly towards the school, leaving Peter to stumble and try to catch up. 

Inside, Sans had put his signature grin back on. Peter looks on, concerned, but Sans waves him off. 

“where’s the office? i gotta give them the paper thingie.” 

Peter doesn't respond for a few seconds, distracted with trying to find Ned. He needs to introduce him to Sans. He also cringed at the thought of the—most likely—extremely awkward conversations that would follow. Oh god, conversations.

Realizing that Sans was patiently waiting, he turns towards him.

Turning back around to scan the doors, he points towards the closest one. “There. You have to give the paper to the lady in the back. She will do the paperwork and stuff.” He flashes an apologetic smile. “I have to get to class now. See you later, Sans!” 

Sans waves. “cya.” He walks towards the doors and opens them. Peter rushes off to class, having been distracted on the way here. He is nearly late. 

Dashing into the algebra classroom, he slides into a desk next to Ned, who waves at him as he comes in. The teacher in the front pushes up her glasses disapprovingly, but Peter pays her no mind, already turning to pull out his unfinished homework, scribbling down some answers and slipping it onto his teacher’s desk while her back was turned. He breathes a sigh of relief, having forgotten about it because of the whole ‘Tony Stark’ thing.

Today is just a worksheet day, which means that they don't have to listen to the teacher, instead just practicing and doing their own thing. As long as they aren't too loud, the teacher didn’t really care what they do, as long as their work got done. 

About a few minutes after class started, Sans shuffles in. Walking towards the teacher’s desk, he gives her a piece of paper. She reads it and nods, exchanging a few words with him. 

With that finished, Sans walks towards Peter. The rest of the class ignores him. A few stop and watch him go, but shrugs him off and continue with their work. Students come and go regularly throughout the year. It isn't new to have someone randomly pop up.

“heya.” He sits at a desk beside Peter, coincidentally the only empty seat left in the classroom. 

“Hi.” Peter replies, aggressively scribbling something on one of the questions. The lead breaks. He slaps his hand to his forehead and reaches for a sharpener. In his irritation at being back in school, he pressed his pencil down much harder than what was needed. Ned hands one to him. “Thanks,” Peter mutters. He looks up. 

“Ohh, right. Ned, this is Sans. I met him during the internship.” Ned nods sagely, and Sans waves. The class continues. Sans gets a worksheet and he starts writing.

Peter takes a look at Sans a few minutes later and sees him sitting back in his chair, almost finished, with the neatest handwriting Peter had ever seen. It looks almost like his namesake. Sans. Comic Sans to be exact, except a bit smaller and more even, he thinks. 

Peter doesn't know what he had expected from someone named after a typeface. He decides not to comment on it. 

“hey, ned. what’s a snake’s favorite subject?” 

Ned stares at Sans as he attempts to break the tension. 

“History?” Ned stretches the ‘s’ to mimic a snake’s hiss. It's the first time he's talked since Sans had arrived.

His grin grows wider. “nope. math. cause it’s an adder. ” 

Peter can't keep himself from snorting. Ned looks torn between laughter and irritation at the pun. Someone across the room snickers.

Sans somehow made the air in the room more awkward than it already was, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he seems more amused at the whole situation than anything. 

Just then, the bell rings. 

Next class was History. Boring as always. Flash Thompson threw a paper airplane around and nearly took someone’s eye out. It was confiscated soon after, and he was sent to the principal’s office. Peter yawns.

Lunch. Ned and Sans starts to get along, conversing about random things as Peter tries not to fall asleep. His back is killing him. Cafeteria food is as bland as always, and that one girl sitting in the corner of another table is staring at them. As always. 

Ned and Sans’ conversation moves on to a different topic.

“Have you heard about the Avengers?”

Sans shrugs casually. “sure. magic heroes saving the world and everything.”

Ned brightens. “Who’s your favorite?” He bites off a piece of his bread. Sans hums thoughtfully.

“well, i’ve never paid much attention to them.” Sans pokes a sad looking fry with a fork curiously. “hey, wouldn’t it be funny if iron man’s suit wasn’t made of iron? it could be carbon fiber or something and no one else would know. would be a bit iron ic, right?” He shrugs to himself and pops the fry into his mouth, chewing slowly. His expression slowly crinkles into a grimace.

Peter can sympathize. How can skeletons even eat? Sans would probably just tell him "magic" if he asks. 

Peter checks the time. 5 more minutes left. He hasn't even started eating yet.

Chemistry. Peter never realized how tired he is from fighting until he has to sit down. And focus. At school. For 7 hours straight.

 As soon as he got to the classroom he leads the other two to the back of the classroom and puts his head down on the desk. 

Ned looks on—or at least Peter thinks he did—in sympathy and slides his page of notes over. “Here.” He whispers.

“Thanks,” Peter mutters. He pulls it over and starts copying it onto the worksheet that the teacher had handed out a few minutes ago, head still on the desk. Beside him, Peter can still hear Sans’ furious pencil scribbling. 

A literal few seconds later, another paper slides over to him. 

It's Sans’ work. Almost type like handwriting and everything. Finished. In 10 minutes flat. 

Peter shoots up from the desk and stares at the worksheet. It's completely done, front to back, page to page. He even adds unnecessary details and corrected a question that was worded wrong. “What? How!?” He exclaims—a little too loudly; all signs of exhaustion gone.

Most of the class turns to look at him. Even the teacher stops helping a student to stare. 

Peter’s face flushes red and he shrinks down on his seat. Turning to Sans, he jabs his finger onto the paper and hisses, “class started 10 minutes ago! How are you already done? The rest of the class are barely a quarter way through this thing!” 

Leaning closer, he whispers softly, “I doubt being a magical skeleton from another dimension would make this any easier for you either.” 

Sans just shrugs cheekily, but then his eyes flicks a little to the right and they widen, just a smidge. Peter turned to see Ned staring at them. Or, more specifically, Sans. 

Sans, whose eyes just turn back to the class to see them back to doing their own thing, leans back in his chair, shrugging again. He closes his eyes and put his hands behind his head.

Ned nudged Peter. “Why’re you talking about dimensions? You suddenly interested in quantum physics or something?” 

Peter, who is panicking internally, says—or basically squeaks, “yep.” 

Ned just snorts. “Of course, the science nerd and the top of the class would suddenly be interested in one of the most complicated and hard sciences in the world. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” 

Breathing a sigh of relief (subtly), Peter relaxes a bit. “I just found out about it a few days ago, so...y’know.” He draws out the o sound to stall a bit, mind whirling as he tries to figure out an excuse. Luckily for him, Ned turns back to the worksheet. Peter looks to Sans, smiling apologetically. 

He points to the finished worksheet. “Can I borrow that?” He doesn't wait for Sans to answer, however, and just slides the worksheet towards himself. 

Although Peter doesn't see it, Sans just shrugs for the third time that period and leans his chair back on two legs until it's leaning impossibly far. He doesn't fall though, which is fascinating to Ned, who turns to stare at him again, although for a different reason this time.

The bell rings again.

Spanish was the last period of the day. Sans seems especially interested in this subject, which is interesting in of itself. The Spanish teacher tasks Peter and Ned to catch him up on the language, as he has never been in a Spanish class before and knew nothing. Fortunately for them (and probably Sans too), he is extremely good at it.

It's almost like he had taken Spanish lessons before by the end of the class. He and Peter were having full on conversations in that language—albeit a pretty basic conversation—by that time. None of them did any work, but the teacher let them do it for homework instead as all of them were distracted teaching Sans. 

Internally, Peter breathes a sigh, even if Ned groans. Sans just seems neutral about the whole thing. Homework is easy.

As the group is walking through the hall, they encounter Flash Thompson backing someone up against the wall. He is mocking the poor boy, who's desperately trying to get something back from Flash, who is holding the mysterious object in his fist raised above his head. 

Beside him, Peter can see Sans clench his hands, although he looks completely unbothered otherwise, with that perpetual grin on his face. He takes a step forwards, and as Peter moves to do the same, Flash has the boy’s shoulder in his other hand and slams him against the wall. 

The glasses the boy was wearing clatter to the floor as the bully draws his arm back, hand clenched into a fist.

Peter freezes in shock. Flash had always been mean, and constantly made fun of people when the teachers weren't watching. But he, in the three years since he had come to the school, has never raised a hand against anyone before. 

The other boy seems to have realized that too, having been the target of most of the bullying this year. He curls in closer to himself. 

Looking back, Peter curses himself for not doing anything. He was the one that had the super reflexes and stuff from that spider. And yet, Sans is the one that saved that poor boy from—most likely—a concussion. 

He moves so fast he might as well have teleported, grabbing Flash’s elbow with one hand and stopping him from moving. Sans grins, and his eyes go dark.  

He forces Flash to lower his arm. “so you’re a bully, huh?” 

Flash gapes, too surprised to say anything.

Sans leans in a bit and says with a dangerous undertone in his voice, “let me give you some advice. stop." He pushes Flash away from the kid and helps him up. The kid stutters out a thanks and runs off, trembling. 

Straightening, Sans stalks off to the front doors of the school and turns a corner, walking out of sight. By the time Peter and Ned caught up, he's already gone.

Peter completely forgot that Sans is magic. Whoops. He had probably literally teleported. Funny how if things seem normal, you forget about the abnormal things.

Chapter Text

Reappearing on the other side of the school, Sans leans against the wall and draws a breath. It isn't like skeletons even needed to breathe, but they can, and it helped. A little.

Seeing the school and the children running around was enough to get Sans to remember the Underground. The nostalgia of the days he spent bringing his brother to school, years ago, comes flooding back after just a few seconds. 

A painful reminder of the life—the reality —that he might never experience again. 

The fact that he might never see Papyrus again. 

It's like losing him again in a way, except more emotional. Raw. Even when Chara had killed Papyrus over and over again, the resets had made Sans numb. 

No longer caring, unable to do anything more to stop it; slightly comforted in the fact that the world can reset and Pap would be alive again. He was never permanently gone. Just. Temporarily. 

Even knowing that Papyrus would die again and again didn’t stop the burst of joy of seeing him after a reset. 

This is the first time that it sunk in. This world won't reset, unless that power exists outside of his universe. And even then, resetting here won't bring Papyrus back. Or, rather, bring Sans back. 

That bully just tops off Sans’ emotional baggage. Papyrus was constantly bullied throughout his earlier years of school. Maybe it was his positivity, or his naivety, or the fact that he and Sans were the only skeletons in the school, but the other monster kids never seemed to like him.

Sans would constantly be walking down the hallways of his school just to turn the corner and see the other kids harassing Paps. The amount of fights that he had to break up was more than he bothered to count. 

Taking another deep breath, Sans pushes himself off the wall that he was leaning against, warping back to the library that he's becoming extremely familiar with and takes another book off the shelves. 

He had always loved going to the dump back in the Underground and finding books that were—hopefully—legible after being tossed into a rushing river. Water did not do good things to ink. 

Sans had always loved learning new things, and this is one thing that never changed when he got older. And the Surface has so much information to choose from. He can spend the rest of his life living in libraries and never get bored. Until he runs out of books to read, of course.

In the three days that he has spent in this dimension (has it only been three days? It feels much longer than that.), he has read most of the books in his corner of the library. 

Skeletons technically don't need to sleep either; although most of them liked to, Sans would abuse that ability constantly, not giving his mind a chance to rest and constantly gathering information from the books or computers in the Underground. 

It isn't like going to the Surface would change that much. There's just a lot more information. It's like heaven for someone like Sans. (get it? Heaven? He's on the Surface? Nevermind. Jokes are a lot less funny when you explain them.)

(Although, it's definitely less funny if they don't get it either.)

He was amazed to see that most of the subjects in human school were extremely similar to the things he learned in the Underground. The only things that were new were Spanish—Sans had never learned a new language before, he was pleased to see that it comes decently easy to him, as most of the learning comes from memorizing—and biology, as most of the things in the Underground were just made of magic.

It's probably time to head to school again, Sans thinks as he checks the time. Yup. 

7:58. Classes start at 8:00. Closing his eyes, he traces the path to the school with a shortcut, scouting ahead so that he doesn’t teleport in someone's line of vision. Or worse, inside someone. Sans personally hasn't done that before, but he’s teleported inside a chair once while he was still learning, and it wasn’t fun.

Finally locating the classroom in the mess of hallways, he steps out of the library into a corner in a moment when no one was looking. Walking through the door, he gives a small wave to Peter and Ned, who are furiously scribbling on sheets of paper. 

Again. 

Sans wonders which class’ homework they forgot this time. It was amazing that they can even hand it in on time—much less get good grades.

The bell rings just as he slides into a seat beside the two boys, who still haven't noticed him. Peter startles at hearing the bell and grabs his and Ned’s homework, sprinting to the front of the class to drop them off at the teacher’s desk. 

Sans pulls out a pen and starts spinning it absentmindedly, bored. The teacher is late. Again. Aren't teachers supposed to be here before the bell? 

Peter suddenly points at the pen, staring in wonder. “Whoa.. how do you do that?” Sans blinks, having zoned out a bit. He stops spinning the pen and holds it up in question.

At that moment though, the teacher walks in—finally. She claps her hands to get the class’ attention and says something that was probably important, but Sans is back to zoning out, tapping the pen on the desk. 

He had forgotten how boring school was, having not been to one since graduating a few years ago. By the fact that both Peter and Ned light up after hearing the news, it's probably important. 

A student comes up to the front of the class and starts speaking as well, and looking at Peter's expression, it's obvious that he likes her.

Sans has never understood the appeal. He’d always had to take care of his brother, and didn’t have time to deal with someone else in his life. Maybe he was just too lazy to have a relationship. Just look at how Toriel and Asgore turned out.

The student finishes up, takes a little bow, and goes back to her seat. Sans doesn't miss the way Peter’s eyes follow her. 

Peter’s quick reflexes catches the pen as Sans accidentally drops it. Taking it back with a nod of thanks, he shoves it into his bag and follows Peter as he went to their next class. The previous one has been cut short because of everything going on.

To be very honest, Sans did not pay attention to any of the classes as he has already learned most of the subjects before. The school day has been more like mindless walking, sitting and waiting. For 7 hours straight. 

Lunchtime came around. Peter and Ned has to go to academic decathlon practice. Well, Ned's going to practice. Peter's going to inform the leaders that he's going to quit. His excuse is that “Mr Stark needs me here. I can’t go to Washington.”

Sans thinks that's just a load of crap.

Just because Peter's helping Iron Man doesn’t mean that he should just throw his school life away. If Peter was busy when Tony needed him, well that's his problem. 

Personally, Sans thinks that bringing a child into battle is extremely irresponsible of Tony. No child should be faced with the responsibility of protecting the earth. They need to learn to grow up, have fun, and should get eased into the hard stuff. Not just shoved into hard—and dangerous—situations. Just because Peter got bit by a spider, doesn’t mean he should throw his childhood away. That doesn't mean that Sans approves of helicoptering, but whatever.

Just because some people are labeled as “heroes,” doesn’t mean that they can get away with anything they want. That includes child endangerment. Normally the blame would go to the legal guardian, but since Peter’s aunt May was blatantly lied to, she doesn’t know. Therefore, the next closest thing to a guardian that Peter had was Tony. But since he's a—so called—hero, that is overlooked.

Following Peter and Ned to a classroom, he spots the girl that was staring at them yesterday during lunch. It seems like the other girl, the one that presented during homeroom today, is the leader. The bully from earlier is sitting in a corner, reading a magazine instead of contributing. His eyes widen at seeing Sans, and immediately busies himself with the pages of his pamphlet.

The girl that Peter likes comes over and gave him a piece of paper. Peter refuses to take it. “I-I’m so sorry Liz, but–” 

Sans interrupts before he can finish. “heya. you still open to having new members? i’d like to join.” Liz’s eyes widen as she sees him for the first time. Meanwhile, Peter just stands there, sweating nervously. 

Liz then brightens and smiles. “Of course! I’ll get you a uniform and everything. I’ll just have to tell the supervisor that you will be joining us for the trip next week. Assuming that you are coming, obviously.” 

Sans grins and nods. Internally, he curses himself for committing to this so quickly. All he wants to do was—well, nothing, really. He’d rather not be so involved in things, but oh well. Too late to turn back now.

He turns to Peter, who just stares at him. Sans is pretty sure these past 4 or so days were the most he’d been stared at in his whole life. Which was saying a lot.

Smiling slyly at Peter, he jokingly wiggles his finger at him. “no quitting responsibility.” 

Stars above, he's such a hypocrite. The iron-y of this situation is hilarious.

"tibia honest, not going to washington would be letting your team down, wouldn’t it?” He shuffles over to the desks at the back of the classroom, dragging Peter by the sleeve. Liz walks over and places a cheap looking buzzer in front of them. She then goes to the whiteboard in front of the class and claps her hands. 

“Alright, we have a new member joining us today.” She gestures over at Sans. “This is Sans–.” Shooting a glare to her right, she taps her foot impatiently. “Flash. Get to your desk.”

The bully in question rolls his eyes and trudges over to the desk closest to him, flopping lazily on the chair. 

Also rolling her eyes, Liz reaches down behind the desk and grabbed a notebook, flipping it open. “Okay, some warm up questions before we get to the hard stuff. What are…communicable diseases?” 

A buzzer sounded to Sans’ left. Someone raises their hand. It was that other girl from yesterday. Liz nods at her. 

“MJ?” 

“Infectious diseases.” She looks—and sounds extremely bored. As if she does not want to be here at all. Sans can see her eyes darting around the classroom, analyzing. She looks towards some other students, before turning her eyes to Sans. Had she been worse at hiding her expressions, she would have looked startled seeing that Sans is also watching her.

Of course Sans just turns his eyes (or eyelights, in his case) subtly towards the whiteboard, pretending to squint at the words that Liz is writing. 

He can still see the girl furrow her eyebrows slightly from the corner of his vision, look at him, and turn back to the front of the room.

Liz asks a few more questions around the room, questions that Sans knew the answer to but was just too lazy to say anything.

“Alright, what are photons?” She looked pointedly at Sans, who at this time still hadn’t answered any questions. 

He took the hint and pressed the buzzer. It's clearly very cheap quality since it takes him three tries to press it enough that it would make a sound. 

Liz smiled apologetically and waited.

“stable subatomic particle” Sans answers. Luckily for him, science was something he's very familiar with. Besides biology and other stuff, considering.

The only sources of information came from a mostly intact human biology book, which was where the monsters found out just how little humans know about SOULs.

Liz frowns at that answer, glancing over to the teacher sitting at the side of the classroom, who nods. 

"those little positive charge thingies you find in a nucleus." Sans adds helpfully.

He forgot that he's in a high school, with students that are not used to hearing the scientific terminology used in labs and such. Welp. 

At least the teachers know. That's good enough.

“What was the source of carbon in gunpowder?” 

Buzz. “Honey.” MJ answers—almost instantly.

“Area of a circle?” 

Sans reaches over and pushes his finger—hard –onto the buzzer. It sounds at the exact same time as MJ’s buzzer. Liz flicks her eyes between the two of them, before shrugging. “Let’s give Sans a chance.” 

Grinning, he leans back into his chair. “pi r squared,” he says casually. 

Liz puts her finger on an area on the page. “Alright, what replaced honey as a source of carbon for gunpowder?”

Peter pressed the buzzer quickly. “Charcoal made from firewood.” 

The questions go on, and on, and on, until the bell finally signals the end of lunch. A lot of the things that were asked were things that Sans didn’t know until only a few days ago, when he combed the library for interesting—and random—historical facts and such. Fortunately for Sans, he reads quickly and can remember a lot.

The bully—Flash, Sans remembers—bumps roughly into Sans as they walk out of the class. “What’s with the name, shorty? Your parents didn’t love you enough to give you an actual one?” 

On his other side, Peter balls his hands into fists but Sans just grins and lazily shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“nah,” he replies. “they were typographers. scribes, font designers. anything to do with writing and typing. they thought it was unique, ‘cause boring names are just not their type , y’know?” He winked. “they were just that bold. the name is very well-rounded,you know?" 

To be very honest, Sans has absolutely no memories of his parents. It's debatable whether the two even had them in the first place. Not like there were other skeletons around that he could've asked. Besides...no. Best not to think about it.

With every pun, Sans can almost feel Flash’s anger rise. He was about to say more, but Peter takes a swipe at his jacket sleeve, trying to grab it. Sans dodges it with ease, but takes the hint, starting off towards their next class, leaving behind a gaping Flash. Ned follows behind them, trying not to laugh.

As they sit down at their desks, Ned and Peter finally loses it, almost falling off their chairs in laughter. “Did you see his face?” Peter exclaims quietly. “That was amazing!”

“I did, and it was.” Ned confirms ecstatically. Sans just sits and watches as they continue laughing until the teacher walked in and gives them a death glare.

That gets the two boys to stop and sit up, trying—and failing—to look slightly more put together. The teacher just sighs.

The rest of the day passed without a hitch, if you exclude the multiple times Flash sees them and glares, which usually directs other people’s attention onto the trio as well. Sans just ignores it, 'cause he's extremely used to being in the center of attention. He can still see Peter’s irritation at the fact grow throughout the afternoon.

Finally, the bell that signals the end of class rings, and Sans takes the distraction as an opportunity to teleport out when no one's looking. The look on Ned’s face is priceless when he turns around to find no one behind him. 

Chapter Text

Almost a week has passed since Sans had ended up in this world. Almost a week of just mindless school days and nothing interesting happening. 

Well, that surprising calm has to come to an end sometime. And when that moment came, he couldn't really say that he was surprised. 

One day, (or should he say, night,) Sans is back combing the library again. He's probably read at least most of the books in the building by now. It's a great way to spend a night when everyone else was asleep. It isn't like anyone—or anything—can stop him from entering the building at night. He's huddled on a beanbag, hood on his head.

It's currently around the middle of the night, and he's absorbed into a book about particle physics—if the Underground had this much information, they would’ve progressed so much faster in getting out—

Well, it doesn’t matter now, he supposes. Unless he could find a way back home, it really doesn't matter what he knows right now. 

Anyways, there's a bright flash that lights up the dark library from outside and Sans rushes to the window to see that it had come from a bank that's close by. Peter—as Spider Man—is being levitated in the air by someone holding some sort of gun and wearing a mask that vaguely resembles one of those Avengers. Captain America, he thinks. The guy with the murderer friend from that airport.

There's three other ones that are holding bags and devices taking money from a hole in the wall.

That’s…not good. Peter is slammed into the wall, then is picked up again and thrown around, banging into different walls. 

Sans steps through a shortcut to the corner of the bank, ready to help if anything went wrong. But, it looks like Spidey was taking care of it as by the time Sans peeks around the corner, “Captain America” has gotten a desk to the face, and Peter is crouched on the ground.

Standing up, he dusts his hands off. “Alright guys, let’s wrap this up. It’s a school night.” He snarks. Launching off the ground, he roundhouse kicks “Thor” into a wall.

Yeah, it seems like he's doing alright. What Sans is more focused on is “Iron Man,” holding up the device that's probably the one that had cut the hole in the thick metal of the vault. He aims it at Peter but before he can press the trigger, Peter dives towards him, tackling him and making him drop the device.

He uses two fingers to remove the guy’s mask while he is immobile to reveal… not Tony Stark. Who could've guessed.

Frowning, (or at least Sans thinks he is) he drops the mask on the floor and kicked it away. “So, how do jerks like you get tech like this?” He questions.

Just then, Sans spots movement behind Peter, who was too busy to notice the robber wearing a green mask pick up the device and fire it up. 

He watches as the device gathers magic of almost the whole spectrum of different colours and condenses it into a bright beam.

Seeing the glow, Peter leaps out of the way, dragging the other guy with him. The beam of energy arcs towards a small store on the other side of the street, with the magic in the beam vibrating with destructive energy. 

The light illuminates a man standing at the window, terrified but having no time to escape.

Well, Sans can't just let the man die. That would be bad. For the man and probably for Peter’s mental health. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets and teleported in front of the beam. Right as it looks like it was about to hit him, he raises a hand and easily deflects it into the sky. It explodes into a glowing cloud, hundreds of feet in the air. 

The impact blows dust into the air and causes his hoodie to flutter through the air, like in the anime that Alphys likes to watch. 

Huh. He wonders how she was doing. Probably alright, now that Chara’s gone. He knows that she still has some things to get off her chest.

Oh, right. 

He's still standing in the middle of the street. The man and the four robbers, plus Peter in the back, are staring at him, open mouthed with shock. He glitches out soundlessly. 

Peter recovers from the shock the quickest, sprinting over to the store to check on the owner, who was still staring. They converse for a bit, and a cat leaps up to the window to comfort its owner. The four robbers escape, unnoticed by everyone except Sans, who's too wrapped up in his memories to do anything about it. 

The store owner and Peter finish their conversation. Peter shoots his webs out, latching onto a building and swinging away. 

Dim light shines through the windows as the sun begins to rise. 

Peter must be at school by now, Sans thinks. It should be about time. A quick look through the window tells him otherwise. 

He decides to wait for Peter in his room, as it wouldn’t take that long for Peter to get home either way. 

He stands up, takes a deep breath and steps out of the library to the middle of Peter’s room, looking around for him. Instead of Peter, he fins Ned as he turned around, sitting on Peter’s bed holding a sphere that seemed to be made of tiny little bricks. 

Holding Ned’s confused stare, Sans slowly reaches up and pulled off his hood. He just grins awkwardly. “sup?”Ah, the classic response to awkward situations.

“Sans?” Ned’s jaw drops. “You’re magic.” 

The skeleton in question just gives a grin (that looked much more like a grimace) and says, “what? you’ve never seen someone walk through thin air before?”

“No.” Ned deadpans, still in shock, but alright enough to quip. 

The one time. The one time Sans doesn't check his location before teleporting, he gives himself away immediately . 

  Walking over to a wall and sliding down to sit on the floor, Sans opens his mouth to try to smooth things out, or say something funny to distract Ned from the original point, looking out the window as if that was going to save him. 

It did actually, sliding open miraculously and diverting Ned’s attention.

Peter (still dressed as Spider Man) crawls onto the ceiling and drops down, heaving a huge breath and pulling down his mask. He turns around to see Ned, gaping once more. 

Wow, Sans is seeing the inside of people’s mouths much more than he thought he ever would. 

The weird, hollow sphere Ned was holding slips from his grasp and plummets towards the floor.

Sans catches the sphere with blue magic instinctively and levitates it towards himself, floating it above a held out hand. (He doesn't actually need his hand to do this, it was just cool looking.)

Looking back up, Sans sees that the gazes of the two boys are now turned to him instead. Both are fixated on the levitating sphere, which is still being held up by his magic.

He blinks.

Sans sends the sphere floating gently to the ground, using a minuscule amount of magic to prevent it from rolling.

“What else can you do?” Peter demands, shifting between one foot and another. Sans just grins and shrugs.

 Ned had turned his attention back on Peter, who is still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, holding his mask. He had started sweating nervously, waiting for Ned to finally acknowledge him.

“You’re Spider Man. From Youtube.” Ned says in wonder. His eyes keep flicking between the mask and Peter’s wrist, where he's wearing his web shooters. Sans is forgotten in the corner of the room, which is great for him.

Peter immediately shakes his head. “No…No I’m not.” He says in a pathetic attempt to lie in Ned's face. He throws his mask into the closet and walks over.

Ned shakes his head as well. “You were on the ceiling.”

Pressing the black spider logo on the middle of his chest, Peter’s suit expands and falls down around him. He grabs some black sweatpants and puts them on in a hurry.

“No I was not.” He shoves his head in the closet to look for a shirt.

While the conversation is happening, Sans just sinks lower into the ground and pulles his hood back over his head, watching the interaction.

Apparently giving up on his search for a shirt, Peter turns back to Ned. “Ned, what are you doing in my room?” 

“May let me in. You said we were gonna finish the Death Star.” 

“You can’t just bust into my room!” 

The door opened slowly, and May peeks her head in the room. “Soo, the turkey meatloaf is a disaster. Let’s go out for dinner. Thai?” She walks in, wiping her hands with a towel. “Ned, you want Thai?” She asks.

Peter shakes his head. “No, no. He’s…got a thing.”

Nodding frantically, Ned stands up from the bed. “Yup. I’ve got a thing. A thing I need to do. Right now.” Peter pushes Ned out the door while trying to look like he isn't up to anything suspicious and May walks backwards to let them through. Peter runs back inside and scoops up the pile of fabric, throwing it in the closet before May can see and bends over to look for a shirt to put on.

Sans turns his head towards the door to see May watching him curiously. “...Sans? How on earth–” She just sighs and shook her head. “Do you want dinner?” 

Standing and dusting himself off, Sans leans against the wall. “nah, it’s alright. can’t interrupt a bit of family larb, am i right?” May snorted.

Just then, Peter finishes his struggle to find—and put on—a shirt, sprinting out of the room. Sans just shrugs to himself and follows behind as May goes to hang her towel up in the kitchen.

“well, i’ll be heading off.” He waves as he opens the front door. May peeks around the door to wave at him as he shuts the front door, immediately stepping through a shortcut back to the library. 

Well, to a different library on the other side of the city. Sans is finally getting options.

The door to the facility opens as a worker is welding pieces of metal together. Four men dressed in black and carrying masks stumbles in through the dark. The welder takes his mask off and unplugs the ventilation machine as they find their way to the desk and drop off their masks and bags on the ground.

“You got the shit?” He mutters, still packing away his welding materials. One of the other men picks up the piece he was building and inspects it. 

“Not all of it. That annoying vigilante tried to stop us. Some other weirdo came as well and prevented me from blasting that shopkeeper idiot into pieces,” is the reply he gets back. 

That piques his interest. “Weirdo?” The only answer he gets is a grunt. 

One of the other men decides to speak up. “Yeah. Mason got the blaster gun…thing after Spidey knocked Brice to the ground. Tried to shoot him, but missed. The beam would’ve hit that supermarket across from the bank, but someone suddenly appeared in front of the beam.” 

“It was like he teleported!” Someone else calls. 

The man nods. “He might as well have, ‘cause he got in front of the beam and just…deflected it. Hands in his pockets, hood up, looking down, just deflects the fucking energy beam straight up into the sky. Doesn't even get a scratch on ‘im, as far as I can tell.” 

WIth the last of the welding equipment put away, the worker finally turns the rest of his attention on the four men, who are all standing in different corners of the room doing their own thing. “Did you see what he looked like?” The new person is an enigma. Magic? Probably. 

It wouldn’t surprise him if he's one of the aliens that made the equipment that he and his men had salvaged from the wreckage. 

Almost all of the aforementioned men shake their heads except one. Mason. 

The man in question stands up from his crouched position from the ground, dusting his clothes off. “All I saw was a blue hood. White hair. Short. Toomes, he’s probably no more than a teen. A teen that did that.” He gestures to a monitor, where a man is sitting, hacking into a security camera.
Toomes watches as the beam fires, slowed down by the video, and is suddenly deflected in a perfect 90 degree angle and exploding several hundred feet in the air. 

Of course, the video is glitchy—no one bothers to make security cameras high definition—but Toomes can gather enough of what was going on. 

The video has looped 5 times by then, but that's besides the point.

The other four men gathers around Toomes as he finally tears his gaze from the fascinating video. 

“What now, boss?” One of them asks, nervously shifting on his feet. 

Toomes swivels his gaze to look at his, mouth set in a grim line. “We continue what we're doing. That person is a mystery, on top of the rest of the mysteries in this facility.” He spreads his arms. “We’ll focus on one thing at a time, and if that problem surfaces again?”

A dark grin spreads on his face. Toomes’ gaze locks on a large mechanical device in the back, shrouded in shadow. 

“I’ll make sure it never does again."

“Do you lay eggs?”

Peter’s eyes nearly bug out of his head as he whips around to stare at Ned, who is staring at the wreckage of the bank. It's the next morning, and after making Ned swear to never tell anyone about his…hobby, they start walking to school. 

“What? No.” Peter answers incredulously.

On his other side, Sans is muffling his laughter in the puffy sleeve of his jacket as Ned just looks at Peter with the most deadpan, serious face he's ever made. 

It's quite an impressive straight face, actually.

Unfortunately for Ned, Peter doesn't stop to appreciate the effort it probably took to maintain that face as he just laughed awkwardly.

“if you did, that would be quite the eggs-perience.” Sans remarks.
Peter whips around to see that Sans had suddenly appeared behind him, giving him a glare. “Not you too!”

He just shrugs nonchalantly. “what did you eggs -pect? that question just cracked me up.” 

“Hey, I gotta eggs -plore new ideas, y’know?” Ned chimes in after a second of thinking. 

Sans just grins and winks at Peter. “ eggs -actly.” He gives him finger guns.

Groaning, Peter just starts walking faster, getting ahead of the two as he thought. Then he snorts and turns around, smiling. “I’m annoyed, but I still have to appreciate the eggs -cellent puns.”

They round the corner and the school comes into view.

Yay. More school. And by the look on Ned’s face, it looks like he's going to have to endure more questions as it goes on. 

Fun.

Chapter Text

There's a chemistry lecture going on, and the students have to take notes while watching an experiment. Of course, Ned is not paying attention—normally Peter wouldn’t either, but he needs a way to dodge the constant questions that are being thrown at him every few minutes. And they aren't even reasonable questions either. 

“Can you spit venom?” Ned whispers in his ear. 

Peter heaves a sigh, already stressed from yesterday’s events. “No.” 

Ned just rolls his chair over to Sans, who's tapping his fingers on the desk in beat to the music that someone is playing a few desks away. They make an odd clinking noise, as if his nails are made of ceramic instead of whatever nails usually are made of.

“Can you teleport objects?” 

He just grins and shrugs. “i don’t know. can i?” 

Ned shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you?”

“of course i can’t. or maybe i can. who knows?” Smiling cheekily, Sans turns to his notes and writes something down.

Peter turns his full attention onto the experiment, where the teacher is talking about organic and inorganic mercury. There's so much information about this one element, it seems almost impossible to remember all of this by the time the test comes around. 

He groans and puts his head on the desk. Behind him, he can hear Ned asking Sans questions and having all of them deflected in one way or another. Hearing Ned’s chair rolling back towards their desk, Peter quickly looks up to the teacher in an attempt to ignore the question. 

Ned isn't deterred, poking him in the arm. “Can you summon an army of spiders?” He asks in a low voice. 

Peter just sighs. “No, Ned.” He bends down to take some more notes, arm cramping.

“Organic mercury is extremely soluble and can soak through skin and gloves…” The teacher drones on.

This is so exciting! Ned has always loved the Avengers, and superheroes in general growing up. And finding out that his best friend's one as well is amazing! 

He's so curious about what Peter could do. Is it anything like Iron Man? Thor? Scarlet Witch? He can't stop himself from asking questions. 

And there's Sans. The enigma that just shows up a week ago, that turns out to be magic as well. Ned had always thought there was something strange about him, and being around him just feels a bit… off, but not in the way that really bothers him. 

Just strange things like going through worksheets and tests like he’s done them before–or at least can remember everything the teacher says, how he seems like he's everywhere at once, appearing and disappearing randomly; even today, in class, how his fingers sound like glass tapping on a surface. 

Well, that last one still can't be explained through what he knows so far; neither can the first point, actually. Even though a lot of what Sans did can be explained through magic, so much still can't. 

Not like he's much help, either. How can someone just be so good at deflecting questions? 

Like for instance: the question he asked last class. Sans just gives an aggravating answer and shrugs it off. 

It's extremely annoying, and Sans knows it. Ned had seen that cheeky smirk he gave as he turned around. That was why he goes back to bothering Peter. At least he isn't the one that's annoyed then.

…On second thought, that's probably what Sans wanted in the first place. 

It isn't like it's working anyways. At least Peter's giving him answers, even if his questions keep getting more and more outlandish.  

The history teacher finally walks in (he was late again) and puts a presentation up on the screen. “Okay. Class, we are going to learn about the Sokovia Accords. They were put into place…” 

Ned immediately takes advantage of the distraction to tap his fingers on Peter’s desk. “How far can you shoot your webs?” 

Peter grunts, irritated and turns to face Ned. “It’s unknown. Now shut up.” Gripping the pencil so hard that Ned thinks it should at least have a crack by now, much less break in half, Peter squints at the board, where there is a picture of the fight that took place a few days ago, according to the teacher.

He looks a bit taken aback, before shaking his head and scribbling things on a notebook. 

Realizing with a start that Spider Man was among the heroes that were charging at each other, Ned’s mind fills with more questions. He taps Peter on the arm again, but is pushed away with a scowl. 

He just carries on anyway. “If I were you, I would just stand on the edge of the building and shoot it as far as I could–”

“Shut up, Ned.” Peter’s voice rises in volume, and some of the other kids in the class turns to look at them. Sans snickers at Peter’s predicament, having been listening along instead of doing his notes like he's supposed to.

In the front of the classroom, the teacher’s eyes land on the trio and he clicks his tongue in disapproval, causing Peter and Ned to straighten up in their chairs, trying to look like they were paying attention. 

Sniffing haughtily, the teacher turns back to the board, ignoring the students as he writes on it with a marker. 

So anyways…

“Hey, Peter–”

“No." 

It's currently after an extremely funny school day, and Sans has decided to accompany Peter and Ned back to Peter’s house. 

As soon as the three leave the school, the girl that leads the academic decathlon, Liz, walks up to Peter (and specifically Peter.) 

“Hey, Peter.” She blushes subtly and brushed her hair behind her ear. Peter’s eyes widen, and he smiles nervously. “I’m holding a party later tonight. Would you be able to come?” 

“C-Come? Of course I can.” His face turns pink in embarrassment (or something else), as he wipes his hands on his pants. 

They exchange a few more words as Sans and Ned just stands in the back awkwardly. 

Then, as the conversation drags on, Sans takes initiative—for once—and salutes to Ned playfully. One more check to make sure the two aren't looking and he steps through a shortcut to the front of Peter’s house, sitting down and waiting. 

A few minutes later, he hears the two boys talking loudly down the street. Smirking to himself, he takes the two boys through a shortcut right as they step off the pathway and drops them in a patch of grass, where they trip and fall. 

“WHA–” Peter yells from his spot from the ground, trying to push a flailing Ned from above him as Sans just watches and laughs at their predicament. Finally escaping from the pile of limbs, Peter’s eyes find Sans and he glares. He's smiling though.

Ned huffs from his place on the ground. “Was that you?” 

Sans grins. “no, it was peter.” He watched as Ned’s eyes widen and he looks towards Peter for confirmation, who just rolls his eyes and points back to Sans. 

He teleports behind Ned as he turns to look back at where he previously was just to find nothing. Whipping back around, his eyes lock back on Sans, who waves cheekily. 

“hey, look over there.” He pointed towards the house. When Ned—and Peter—turns towards it, he warps into their line of sight. Ned turns back around. 

Just to find Sans standing there. 

Peter snorts. “I think I’m going to go to that party. With Liz. Sans, Ned, you coming?”

“Of course I’m coming! If anyone has a chance to be with the hot senior girl, it’s you.” Ned says excitedly. 

Meanwhile, Sans just shakes his head. “nah. you guys have fun. i’ll be here.” 

Peter shrugs carelessly, while Ned looks back towards him, frowning. “Why not? It’ll be fun. You might even find a girl as well.” 

“nope.” 

Ned’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but then just shrugs as well. 

Ah, love. Sans had never understood the point. 

“nothing could ever go wrong at a party, can it?”

He feels like he was jinxing it the moment he said those words. Peter probably thought the same, judging by the way he frowns. 

“Of course not.” Ned agrees.

Chapter Text

Peter and Ned are sitting in May’s car as she drives them to the house party they were invited to. May's happily chattering about whatever she can think of as the two boys awkwardly sit in the back, staring out the windows.
“So, house party! Wow, I remember these. Haven’t been to one in a while.” She says, turning onto a side road. 

Every passing minute, Peter regrets accepting the invitation more and more and gets more jealous of Sans, who's probably chilling somewhere nice, and stress free, and without random people talking Every. Goddamn. Second. 

Just a nice thought. 

Beside him, Ned is vibrating. From excitement or stress, Peter can't tell. Maybe it's both. Maybe it's none. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea.” He blurts out suddenly, fidgeting with his seatbelt. Both May and Ned turns to stare at him, although May has to turn her head back on the road almost immediately. 

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we should just go home. This was a mistake.” Peter mumbles.

May just laughs. “Oh, Peter, I know. It’s been really hard to fit in with all the changes your body is going through, isn’t it?” 

He just snorts awkwardly at the random life advice. May addresses Ned, stage whispering: “He’s been stressed lately.”

Ned nods fervently. “What helps with stress is going to a party.” He grins. “Let’s go to the party.” 

Is it just him, or is the car getting hotter? It feels like his spider sense (as he calls it) is going off, but that can’t be right. It hadn't been helpful for months. A cold trickle of sweat goes down his collar, but he elects to ignore it. Nothing’s gonna go wrong at the party. It's just a party. He's underage for drinking anyways. Not like anyone’s going to get drunk. 

Clearly, Ned isn't having the same thoughts, rushing out of the car the moment it stops at the house. He waits for Peter, who takes a little longer to get out of the car due to the sudden wave of—he doesn't know what it is, actually. 

Ned doesn't seem to feel that anything's wrong. In fact, he looks pretty excited. For what exactly, Peter doens't know. 

Finally, he opens the door and steps outside. The feeling of dread—is it dread?—is stronger than ever. 

“Come on Peter, you’ll be fine. It’s going to be fine.” Ned calls encouragingly from the porch of the house. Peter just nods, smiling. He runs up to join Ned and waves goodbye to May, who drives off, leaving the two of them standing there awkwardly. 

Ned rings the doorbell. 

A few seconds later, the door opens and Liz’s beaming face can be seen. “Peter! Ned! Hi! Come in.” Stepping aside to let them come through, she looks towards the back of the house where there is yelling coming from the backyard. 

Grimacing, she gestures towards a door in the back and hurried off to another room. Ned turns to stare at Peter, who's watching in horror as a glass shatters against the backyard window. 

“This might be a mistake.” He acknowledges. Maniacal laughter can be heard through the thin glass as a couple of people surrounds each other, holding various, interesting items. 

Peter turns back towards Ned. “I told you!” He exclaims in a hushed tone. Before Ned can respond though, footsteps sound from behind them and a door opens. 

“Can’t believe you guys are at this lame party.” 

The two boys turn around to see MJ standing behind them, methodically spreading jam on a piece of toast. She finishes with the jam and takes a bite, still staring at them with a bored expression.

Peter does a double take, gaze flicking between Ned and the newcomer. “Wha– You’re also here!” 

She just shrugs. “Am I?” 

Taking advantage of their confusion, MJ slides open the front door and promptly leaves, taking the butter knife with her.

“Yo! Penis Parker!” The door to the backyard opens and Flash Thompson bounds in, wrapping his arm around Peter. “Got any girls yet? Oh wait. You’re a neeeerrrddd." He laughs as Peter's face turns pink. 

Liz finally walks in, having witnessed the interaction at the doorway. “Flash, get off him.”

The bully in question bows down jokingly at her. “Of course, Your Wonderous Majesty. I’ll do whatever you say. Not." Chuckling, he proceeds to do what Liz said, slamming the door in the process.

Liz just sighs. “I’m sorry Peter. Maybe inviting him was a bad idea.” Opening the door again, she walks through and turns a corner, disappearing. 

Another wave of dread comes and goes and Peter finally decides to do something about it. He weaves through the crowd of people to find Ned, finally seeing him at the snack table. 

“I need to go” He whispers after dragging him away from the crowd. 

Ned’s eyes widens in confusion. “What? Why?” But Peter doesn't bother with an explanation, running and leaping over the short fence that outlined the yard, yelling, “See you at school tomorrow!” before disappearing from Ned’s line of sight. 

Taking a deep breath, he activates the suit that he wears underneath his clothes, looking for some action. To Peter’s dismay, Liz lives in the suburbs, where it's extremely flat and boring. There's no tall buildings or poles to swing from, besides a few trees that are placed too sparingly to be of any use. The Brooklyn Bridge is a few miles away though, and is probably the best place to go to scout out the area. His spider sense is directing him towards the city, so that's probably be his best bet. 

Unfortunately, he's going to have to run most of the way, which will take a while. Along the way, he uses some of the larger trees to swing off of and gain some momentum, which is for his amusement more than for anything useful. 

Finally, finally, the bridge swings into view. Peter takes immediate advantage of this to shoot both his webs at the towering suspension bridge and slingshots his way to the top. 

Of course, that's also not necessary. It's fun though, and he needed that after running for around half an hour. He can probably list other excuses for being childish if he had more time, but his senses are directing him to the other side of the bridge.

By the time he swings over, a van had exploded in a colorful explosion and pieces of metal fly through the air.

“Now, this was crafted from a reclaimed sub-Ultron arm straight from Slovokia. Here, you try.” A man proclaims, swinging the thing wildly in the air.

Beside him was another guy, who slumps. “Man, I wanted something low-key. Why are you trying to upsell me, man?” 

Behind them, Peter silently crawls up the side of the bridge, eavesdropping. 

“Okay, okay, okay. I got what you need, alright?” A hand reaches over to the back of a van, pulling out various items. “I got tons of great stuff here.” The doors on the back opens fully, revealing piles and piles of alien tech. 

Peter’s eyes widen as he looks over at the metal and he crawls closer to see it better. Another man opens the door of the van and steps. out, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. 

The two men from earlier start to talk again but Peter is distracted by his phone, which suddenly vibrates in his pocket. 

Ring!

Everyone immediately goes on guard and the man holding the device points it at the buyer. “What the hell was that?” He barks, finger on the trigger. 

Stalking closer, the other man jabs his finger in the buyer’s chest. “Did you set us up?” 

He tenses. “Hey, hey man.” He consoles, to no avail.

Peter decides to take action, leaping from his position on the side of the bridge and flipping in front of the men, putting his hands in the air. “Hey!” 

The person that's not holding anything suddenly pulls out a pistol from his pocket and points it at him, as does the man holding the device. The buyer is forgotten, and he starts inching towards another car that's parked in the back. 

“Hey, come on. You gonna shoot it at someone, shoot it at me.” Peter crouches down, preparing to jump the moment the beam goes off. Recognizing it as the one that nearly destroyed the grocery shop, he tenses. 

One of them smirks. “All right.” The finger on the trigger twitches, getting ready to press it. Before he can, however, Peter shoots a web and flings the gun out of his hand. 

Now disarmed, the man shrinks back, hiding behind as the other man steps forwards and punches him with a gauntlet from the back of the van. 

Peter is slammed into the side of the bridge, cracking the stone—and probably some bones in the process. He hears a crack, but his adrenaline is high and he doesn't feel a thing. Leaping to his feet, he sees—to his dismay—that the three men have already left, cars flinging dust into the air as they drive off. 

The fight had driven all rational thought from Peter’s head and he quickly shoots a web onto the open van door, getting dragged along and holding on with all his might. 

A flying trash can hits him in the face. 

“What? Ahhh!” Was all he can get out before another bin comes flying towards him. He ducks. The bin slams into his leg instead, and he nearly lets go of the web. Shooting another one to help his grip, he grits his teeth and holds on. 

Unfortunately, that doens't last very long as there is a bright flash of light and suddenly the van door comes off, leaving Peter flying in the air. He lands in a bush with a thump.

“God dammit.” He groans and pushes himself off the ground. Surprisingly, nothing's broken, only a few bruises here and there. “Guess I’m gonna have to take a shortcut.” As Sans would call it, anyways. Although his version is a little bit less “normal” than Peter’s. 

Taking a running start, he jumps over the metal fence that's surrounding a house and sprints across a yard, where two men are playing ping pong.

He puts his hands to his mouth and calls, “Hey guys! Good game. Have fun.” He leaps over the other fence, leaving the two men staring in disbelief. The ball bounces pathetically off the edge of the table. 

A dog bounds towards Peter as he runs across the next yard. He scopps up a ball from the ground and throws it to the other side of the yard. “Sorry! Can’t play right now. Fetch!” He yells.

Vaulting over the next fence and spotting several trees surrounding the next few yards, Peter shoots his webs out and starts swinging over the houses. Several people stop what they were doing to stare at him in surprise. 

He pays them no mind though, having seen the back end of the wrecked van turning around the corner. Swinging around, he shoots a web towards a tall house. He misses, misjudging the distance that he had to shoot and falling straight into another bush. 

A couple of children run over to him as Peter slowly sits up, groaning and putting a hand to his forehead. He does not know what to do as one of them creeps up on him and poked him with a branch. “Hello? Mr. Curious Man? Are you okay?” 

Eyes widening under his mask, he holds up both of his hands in surrender as she pokes him again. “I’m–” He winced as the stick stabs one of his many bruises. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Please stop poking me.” 

The other girl seems to understand first and pulls her friend away from him. “Sorry.” She steps back, letting Peter stand up and dust himself off. 

“So, uhh.” He rubs the back of his neck with his wrist. “Nice to meet you. I gotta go now.”

Reaching behind him, he shoots a web towards the nearest tree, startling one of the children and causing her to jump backwards, straight into the other girl, both tumbling to the ground in a heap.

Their (dad? Guardian?) comes running at the sound, but before Peter has to deal with that, he jumps up and swings back out of the yard he had landed in, landing on the road with a thump. “Now where the heck is that van?” He mutters to himself, looking around thoughtfully. 

A screech runs out throughout the neighborhood and the aforementioned van suddenly makes a sharp turn onto the road as people run to get out of the way. Several people are screaming, and the contents inside the van are being thrown around, causing loud banging noises. 

And it's heading straight for Peter.

Chapter Text

He jumps. Leaping over the van right before it's about to hit him, Peter turns around in midair, shooting his webs at the back of the van and hanging on for dear life as it—unsuccessfully—tries to shake him off, swerving from side to side. It honestly felt like his arms are about to be ripped off.

The van starts to shake from the strain (and the fact that it was nearly destroyed by now) and starts slowing down, allowing Peter easy access to the top of the vehicle. 

“Ha! Got yo–” His cheerful exclamation is cut off as someone grabs him from behind. “Hey! Wait!” 

Desperately scrabbling for purchase as he's lifted from his feet, Peter hears the mechanical whirr from behind him too late and he is launched into the sky. 

He stares in shock. “Whoa. Hey, what the hell?” He yells, pounding his fists onto the person's metal armour in a sudden burst of anger.

The person inside the mechanical suit has a claw-like grip on his arms and Peter tries to wrestle himself free, to no avail; he's getting carried higher and higher until it's getting hard to breathe.

Suddenly, the mechanical spider logo thing on his suit begins to beep frantically and a parachute unfolds from a hidden compartment. The sudden momentum loss causes the flying bird guy to drop him and he starts to fall towards the ground. 

Unfortunately for Peter, instead of the parachute working like it's probably intended to, it's destroyed when it deploys at that awkward angle. Which means there's nothing stopping Peter as he plunged to the ground. 

“Aaaaaahhh!” 

He's not falling anymore, he abruptly realizes. There's something under him that catches him, slowing his fall. 

The second thing he realizes was that his eyes are closed, and when he opens them, he catches sight of sharp metal edges. 

Thinking he's back in the bird dude’s arms, Peter starts to struggle, causing the hands holding him to tighten in an effort to keep him still.

“Whoa kid. Whoa. It’s me. Tony. Stop struggling.” A voice echoes from inside the suit. Peter’s eyes—both real and the ones on his suit—widen as he processes the words. 

He turns to look at his saviour more closely. “Mr Stark?”

“Yes kid, yes.” Tony sighs and lands on the ground with a thump, closing his thrusters with a click. Gently placing Peter on the ground—who jumps up immediately to brush his suit off, he activates the thrusters again, hovering a few feet in the air. 

What he achieved doing that unnecessary action, no one knows. 

“Mr Stark! There’s a giant bird dude with metal floaty thingies trying to sell illegal stuff! I found his…uhh…henchmen trying to sell it to a guy. And he blew up a truck! And then the bird dude just swooped down like a monster and grabbed me, flew up like a thousand feet and dropped me. Actually, how did you find me anyways? Did you put a tracker in my suit?”

“I put everything in your suit. Like that parachute.” 

“The one that didn’t work?” Peter looks at him questionably.

The only response Peter gets to that question is silence. It seems like the man was too prideful to admit that— yes— his wonderful and amazing invention failed. 

“Anyways, what were you thinking? Going after that thing could’ve been dangerous!” 

Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes—that would have been extremely rude, even if he deserves it a little. “They were obviously doing bad things, I gotta stop them.”

The billionaire crosses his arms, making a loud clanking noise and floats higher in the air. “Stop them, huh? You gotta chill a little, there are people that handle those sorts of things.”

“Like the Avengers?” 

A pause. Then: “No, no no. That’s a little outside their pay grade.”

Yanking down his mask, Peter tosses it to the side. He's still out of breath; both from the adrenaline of the fight and the following conversation. “Anyway—”

“then what is?” 

A deep voice comes from his right, and he jumped. Mr Stark doesn't react, however. 

Looking around, Peter comes face to face with Sans, who definitely wasn’t there a few seconds ago. He's rewarded with a cheeky wave and a grin.

“hey pete.” Pete? “howzit goin’?” 

"Sans?"

“and the tin can!” He gives Mr Stark finger guns as the other two only stare in confusion. “you never answered my question, btw.”

Silence. Never, since Peter had known Mr Stark—not that it had been very long, had anyone spoken to the man so casually. Also– btw? Who says that? 

By the time he's processed what happened, Mr Stark had flown closer to the two of them; almost touching the ground. 

“Hey kid, what are you doing here? And– how are you here?” 

Peter looks around. They're on a beach next to the lake. And there's a thick forest behind them. So obviously, he had teleported. But Mr Stark doesn't know that he can do that, so—uh. This is a bit awkward. 

“Anyways, Mr Stark?” Electing to ignore the growing tension between Sans and the billionaire, he just plows on with what he was originally saying. “If the Avengers aren’t going to stop the bad guys, who will?” 

Heaving a sigh, Mr Stark slaps his palm to his forehead. “Well, obviously not you! You’re just a couple of teenagers!”

“actually, just one teenager.” Sans corrects out of nowhere. 

“What do you mean– one ? There’s two of you here!”

There's no answer. The man lifts his head to find that Sans had disappeared. “What the—”

Unable to stop himself, Peter snorts. Then he bursts out laughing as Mr Stark just stands there, very confused. 

“What?” He looks around again, even flying towards the forest to see if Sans is just hiding there. Finding no one, he flies back towards Peter, who had stopped laughing at that point. “Nevermind. Look, forget the flying vulture guy. Stay closer to the ground. Be the…’friendly neighborhood Spider Man’ you keep talking about.” 

“Why? I was doing fine—ish.” Peter’s sentence trails off as he realizes just how much worse the situation would've been if Mr Stark wasn’t there to help. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here. I was fine.” 

“Oh, I’m not here.” The suit’s helmet opens to reveal no one inside. It's literally just a piece of machinery. Mr Stark’s voice still echoes out from the inside. 

“Thank god this place has WiFi. Also, what was that? Your…friend I assume? Just appeared out of nowhere”

Peter scrambles to think of an answer in the split second he's given. 

“...uhh,” is all he can come up with. 

He can tell Mr Stark isn't pleased, even if he isn't really there. “Elaborate.” 

Shifting, he just gives a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, he does that a lot.” 

God, he can just see Mr Stark’s disappointed expression wherever he is right now. 

“Y-you know how people like doing things like sneaking behind other people and scaring them? Or…or you know. Other things? Sans..” A bead of sweat rolls down his neck as he looks down towards his feet. “Yeah, Sans. He does..does that. Yep.”

They look at each other for what feels like eternity. Finally, he decides to do something, right as the helmet closes itself. 

“Mr Stark?” He asks nervously, twisting his fingers together. 

“Tony Stark Is No Longer Connected.” 

An automated voice comes out of the helmet as the thrusters rev and the empty suit boosts away, leaving a large cloud of dirt and dust behind. 

Peter sighs.

“That could have gone better.” He mumbles to himself

He swings away, using the bridge as an anchor and sliding his mask back on his face. It wouldn’t be great if someone sees his face while he was "spider manning." As Ned would say.

The evening wind is nice. Not too cold, not too warm. A great way to ease the stress that always comes with talking with Mr Stark. Or any adult besides May.

Peter makes the mistake of closing his eyes to enjoy it. The only thing he gets in return for this is a wall to the face.

Swinging full speed into a wall—with his eyes closed, might he add—is not a great feeling. There's an audible screech as he comically slides off from his position on the conveniently smooth wall, collapsing into a heap on the floor.

Peter groans. There's definitely some bruising that was going to form later, and the next week is gonna be hell. That's probably what he gets for doing what he did.

As he's contemplating his life, he rolls onto his back, arms splayed out, and a glowing piece of machinery catches his eye. It looks a lot like the contraptions that were in the back of that van.

Upon closer inspection, Peter can see tire marks near the entrance of the building he had slammed into. So the van probably came here, turned the corner too quickly or something, and dropped this. 

The only intact thing in the device is some kind of purple, round thing that has an interesting design on it. It's the thing that's glowing, illuminating the entire corner when Peter goes to pick it up.

“Whoa.” It's the closest thing to evidence that Peter could probably find. Deciding to keep it, he shoves into his pants pocket and puts on his shirt. It's probably better to walk the rest of the way home, considering how close he is to his house.

His phone rings. Ned’s extremely close up picture of his face shows up as his wallpaper when he opens his phone, just to see the aforementioned person calling him. 

He answers it. “Hey Ned.” 

“Can I be the person in the chair?” The question comes immediately. Peter doesn't even have time to answer before Ned just plows ahead. “Like the guy that has all the cool computers and stuff, and helps the hero find bad guys, and..and other very important stuff? I don’t know, but can I?”

Well, he doesn't know what to do with the glowy thing anyways. Ned might as well keep it for him.

He cracks a smile. “Sure, why not?”

Ned’s eyes visibly light up before the call abruptly cuts off. Peter sighs and quickly searches through the pile of scrap metal before starting the walk back to his house. May's probably worried by now. He wishes that he can tell her about him being—you know— Spider Man.  

He doesn't want to put her in danger though. Everyone knows that the moment the hero of the story’s family finds out about their thing, they immediately get targeted by the bad guys. 

In the movies, anyway. It might as well apply to real life though. At least, Peter doesn't want to risk it.

Suddenly, the phone rings again. It's Ned. Again.

“Hey Peter?” 

“Yeah?” 

Ned's still at the party for some reason, but there are flashing lights and a stage behind him as he looks into the camera. “Just so you know, you might not want to come back to the party.” 

He holds the phone up to the stage, where Flash Thompson is standing with a microphone in hand. 

“When I say Penis, you say Parker!" He yells into the crowd of people. "Penis!"

“Parker!” The crowd yells back.

“Penis!”

“Parker!”

Peter just stares. The chanting grew louder and Ned shouts something to the camera, but it's drowned out by the sound of cheering.

The call cuts off just as abruptly as it had come.

Chapter Text

“huh,” Sans says as he turns the glowing object over in the middle of class—shop class, to be specific. And the teacher doesn't seem to care what the students are doing, as long as they're doing something. So both Peter and Ned seems to have decided this is the perfect place to bring a mysterious object to have a look at. 

He turns the piece of metal over again. 

There's still pieces screwed together, and it looks like it was slammed into a wall after being dropped to the floor at high speeds and torn off from some sort of blaster gun thing. Just a hunch. 

(He'd CHECKED it the moment he got it.)

There's something…otherworldly about the core of the object. And hearing what Peter has to say about aliens, that isn't really surprising. 

“So.” Peter mutters awkwardly. Ned shifts beside him as he says, “what is it?” 

They're probably expecting an actual answer. Unfortunately for them, Sans doesn't have one. “i dunno.” 

“Great.” Peter sighs. “I guess we better take the thing apart.” 

Ned looks towards Peter. “Where did you even find this thing?” He asks, picking said thing up and inspecting it. “Was it after—you know what?” 

“You mean the party thing?” He lowers his voice, glancing towards the other students. They had chosen an inconspicuous spot in the back, away from all the other students. 

It still doesn't stop the other two from being extremely quiet, even though they're well out of earshot of the other students. 

“probably.” 

“Should we get a hammer or something?” There isn't any point for Ned to ask, as he already has one in his hand. “Or a screwdriver?” He holds one up. “Does it even have screws?”

“Uhh. Screws.” Peter grabs the device. “There’s a few, but maybe a bigger hammer will get the bits off.” 

“do we have access to that handy looking saw over there?” Sans takes a screwdriver and tries his best to get the unnecessarily tight screws off the glowy thing. Too bad his hands are still basically bone. He can't get any traction on the handle. 

After struggling for a few seconds, Peter takes pity on him and grabbed the device. Ned just gives him a weird look, but then turns towards the saw thoughtfully. 

“I could ask the teacher if we can use it.” 

“alright.” 

Although Peter had better success than Sans did, he still can't get the screw off. It's extremely tight on there.

A large thump comes from the other end of the table, where Ned carries the heavy saw over, breathing heavily. “you okay, ned?” 

“You could have just asked for help, y’know.” Peter adds from where he's nursing his hand from what's basically rope burn. He notices Sans watching, and throws the screwdriver to the other side of the room dramatically.

“Screw the driver. Ned, you know how to use this thing?” 

Ned frowns. “Nope.” Immediately after saying that, he fires it up and grabbed the metal. “I can try.” 

While Ned is fiddling with the device, Sans goes to work on something that would soundproof the area. 

Gathering an almost-invisible layer of blue magic, he sends it surrounding their table. Adding a bit of orange to “convince” people not to come over, and maybe a little green to shield them when something inevitably went wrong, he sits back to watch the action. 

Funny how he can use that color for everything except its intended purpose: healing. Ironic, considering that most other monsters know at least how to heal small wounds. His brother was one of the best; if monsters couldn’t go to specialized healers, they would come to him. And he would always help, any time of the day, no matter what he was doing. 

Papyrus was the definition of compassion.

A yelp comes from the table, and Sans turns just to see a piece of metal fly towards his face. He dodged it, but is becoming increasingly concerned the longer the saw moves. 

A loud clang comes from behind him; the piece of metal that he had dodged a moment before has bounced off of the shield he had created and comes flying straight back towards Sans. 

Instead of dodging it this time, he just grabs it with some blue magic and drops it on the ground. The loud whirr of the saw slowly comes to a stop.

“What the—?” That was Ned, who's staring at the saw with a horrified expression. “It just—it just stopped!” 

Curling a finger, Sans slides the saw over with magic (he doesn't trust his grip to drag the thing over), surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder to check for people watching. 

Seeing no one, he turns his attention to the broken machine. The two boys had somehow friction welded the saw blade to the screw. That's extremely impressive actually, but the blade is pretty much useless now.

So either this ordinary saw is powerful enough to weld the two metals in that short time, or the mysterious alien metal has amazingly high friction or a high melting point. Maybe both. The saw is much more powerful than the ones that he's familiar with anyways, back in the Underground. 

“welp. things got really heated up, didn’t it?” He grins. “really stoked about the coming conversation with mr shop class over there.”

Ned glances at the teacher, frowning. “What are we going to tell him? We broke the probably really expensive saw?”

What's the best way to explain this? “you basically glued the things together. with friction. friction welding. i don’t know if the teacher knows what that is.” 

Peter groans and flops back in his seat, taking his goggles off. “Great.” 

“I’ll just tell him.” Ned offers, standing up and dusting himself off. Which is good, considering no one else wants to. He walks over but is immediately stopped, walking straight into an invisible wall, which is the shield that Sans had put up.

Ned tries again, and is able to get through. He shoots Sans a suspicious look, but says nothing, going up to the teacher who's falling asleep in the corner of the room.

He's left staring at Peter, who's giving the air a confused look. He cautiously puts his hand out, feeling for the “wall” that was up a second ago. Finding nothing, he stands up and goes to put his equipment away. 

Sans figures it's safe enough to drop the rest of the magic and does just that, grabbing the screwdriver and unscrewing the second screw with a little—a lot—of help from his magic. Not much he can do about the first one though. That's pretty stuck to the device now. They’d have to get a plasma cutter or something to get that off.

Although, that would be fun to try. The underground never had such fancy technology.

“He said that he was waiting for an excuse to get rid of that old thing.” Ned announces, stomping back to their table, Peter following right behind him.

“Sans, what was that?” He demands quietly. Sans just grins. 

“what makes you think that was me?” He takes great enjoyment out of the way Peter sighs and slumped down on the table. 

Beside him, Ned does pretty much the same thing. “Who else could it have been? What other things can you do?” 

“nothing” 

"Nothing?"

“nope.” 

“What do you mean, nope?!"

“i mean what i mean.”

Stars, this is funny. Both of the boys are gaping at him like a buncha goldfish, yet Sans is having the time of his life.

“i mean,” he continues. “why would I ever shield you from the truth?”

None of them catches that subtle pun. Shame. 

The bell rings, and Sans couldn’t tell if he's disappointed or relieved. The teacher, who at this point hasn't done any teaching, stands up and clapped his hands. “Okay class, I want to see your projects done in about three more lessons. You can go now.” 

Too bad for him most of the class is already out the door by the end of the first sentence. Sans, Peter and Ned are only still there because they have to figure out what to do with the saw.

Finally, Sans just brute-forces the saw and the glowy thing apart with blue magic.

He hands the device to Peter and walks out the classroom. He's halfway down the hall when he hears Peter yell: “Sans! Hang on! Wait up!”
He stops and leans against a locker leisurely, grinning as they catch up to him, Ned out of breath and Peter looking like he hadn't just run half a mile down the extremely long hallway. Must be a “bitten by a mutant insect” thing. 

“alright. where're we goin’?” Sans asks, but Peter is distracted by the faint, echoing footsteps that suddenly appear. 

“Oh no.” 

A door opened. Peter reacts quickly, pushing them into an empty classroom and locking the door behind them. Ned looks at him with wide eyes. 

“Hey, those are the guys that tried to kill me.” Peter hisses.

"What?" Ned whispers frantically. 

“hey, they’re coming closer.” Sans flicks his finger and blinds roll down to cover the window on the door. Voices can be heard coming through.

“High schools creep me out.” A gruff voice mutters. 

An agreeing hum comes from the other guy. “They’ve got this smell." He complains.

“We gotta get out of here.” Ned whispers, but Peter shakes his head. 

“I gotta follow them.”

Chapter Text

"No!" Ned exclaims in a hushed voice, reaching over to grab Peter’s arm as he moves to the door. 

“Why not?” 

Ned sighs. “Peter–” 

The door swings shut, as Peter had slipped out in that moment of distraction. Sans pats him on the arm as he reaches out uselessly. 

“don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye s–” Is that a grimace? It was so sudden, and Ned didn't pay enough attention. “...eye out, alright?” 

Ignoring it, he just sits down with a huff. “How?” 

Sans just gives an annoying conspiratorial wink and sits down on the other side of the desk. 

Suddenly, there's a knock on the glass of the door, and it opens. Ned turns around, startled, and a man sticks his head through the door. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing.” He forces himself to relax.

The man continues staring. “Oh.” 

“your turn.” Sans randomly speaks up. It takes most of Ned’s self control not to blurt out something stupid, like “What do you mean, my turn?”

He turns around to see Sans, holding a chess piece and tapping it in a casual—and slightly bored—manner. A chess board has appeared on the desk between the two, and set up in a way that suggests that they have been playing for a while. 

Taking a closer look, he notices that—currently—he's on the losing side. A suspicious glance at Sans tells him that he knows that too, based on how he's smirking. 

“are you going to move?” Sans’ eyes slide subtly over to the man still at the door, who's starting to look impatient. 

“Yeah. Just—you know—figuring stuff out.” Ned takes his knight and moves it to a random square. God, he hadn’t played chess in years. Sans narrows his eyes and moves it a square to the left. 

“you meant to put it there, right? horsie here can only move in an ‘L’ shape, ya know.” He slides a finger across the correct squares as a demonstration. 

Ned forces an awkward chuckle and nods. The man at the door huffs. “Playing chess?” 

“yup.” 

The door slides shut. Sans leisurely places a piece on a square and cocks his head towards the door. Taking the hint, Ned takes what he remembers about this game and moves a piece. The act goes on for a while, with him making random moves, and Sans just moving pieces wherever the heck he wants.

Finally, quiet, but still prominent footsteps echoed down the halls, towards the exit of the building. Ned glances towards the door, then to Sans, who has a distant look on his face. 

He then grins, and without warning, the chess set disappears. 

“bad guys, huh? you wanna follow them too?” 

Ned considers that. Not for long though, as one look at the empty and boring room around him solidifies his decision almost immediately. “Okay.” 

Before that last syllable even finishes coming out of his mouth, he suddenly finds himself standing in another classroom. The change in scenery is incredibly disorienting, and Ned wobbles on his feet. 

“whoa, steady there bucko.” Sans reaches out and stabilizes him, still grinning with a hint of mischief in his eyes. 

“Can you not do that?” He demands, now leaning onto a wall. 

“not do what?”  

“You know what—nevermind. Where are those people?” 

"dunno.” 

A second passes. Sans points towards the school exit. “over there.” 

Footsteps start to get louder as two voices bickers with each other outside the door. “How is that ‘dunno’?” 

Sans just shrugs. He opens the door, and it makes a loud screech, causing the voices to stop and Ned to cringe. “whoops.” 

“What was that?” That question comes from the man from earlier, and they can hear him running towards them. 

And suddenly, the voices stop. The footsteps stop. Ned is back in the classroom, although he half expects it this time and doesn't fall immediately. 

The door bursts open and Peter almost leaps into the room. “I got them!”

“Got what?” Ned asks, glad for the distraction from his suddenly racing heart. A phone is shoved in his face. On it is a map with a quickly moving dot. 

He understands immediately. “A tracker?” Peter nods so quickly that Ned was convinced for a second that his head is going to fall off.

“sweet.” Sans remarks, staring at the dot with an odd intensity. It's already at the edge of the city. 

“Wow.” Ned breathes as he stares at the device Peter held. It's projecting a map on a hologram, and the tracker is represented by a small, blinking dot. “They’re on Staten Island.” 

“Yep.” 

Later, the three of them are working on the lego death star, which Sans had teleported into the bedroom from Ned’s house. Well, the other two are building the thing. Sans is just sitting on the bed, watching the hologram like a snake watching its prey. 

He can't shortcut to anywhere that he doesn't know or can't figure out exactly where it is. With the lego thingie, Ned had given him specific directions to his house and where the star was. 

With this dot however, all he needs to do was trace the path it took with his magic and it leads right to them. Currently, the two men are arguing with someone over a voice call while driving well over the current speed limit. 

What they're saying was probably important, but Sans doesn't have the mental capacity to register anything at the moment.

He's abruptly pulled out of his spying with Peter’s voice. He blinks and turns towards him.

“did you say somethin’?” 

In the very far distance, the faint sounds of sirens can be heard. He cuts off the shortcut connection to focus his attention on Peter. 

“Where are they?” 

Having not paid attention to the location names at all, he just wordlessly gives him the hologram projector contraption. “What’s this—oh. They stopped.” 

“Where?” Ned asks as he basically runs towards the bed. 

“Looks like—” He stops, and squints at the glowing projection. “Maryland?” 

“That’s like. 500 miles away.” 

“Yeah. How are going to—” 

Both of the boys suddenly turn to Sans, who smirks. “well, why didn’t you say so?” 

A heartbeat passes. The boys tensed, expecting to be suddenly transported to the evil lair thing that the bad guys supposedly thrived in. 

Peter frowns. “Wait wha–AAAAAH!” 

He screams as he's suddenly teleported to the top of a large building, falling on his butt. Ned, on the other hand, is doing alright. 

“Hey, I might be getting used to this.” He hasn't fallen at all, smiling ecstatically at the new environment around him.

Sans immediately grins and moves to snap his fingers (completely for show.) Ned’s eyes widen and he puts his hands in the air. “No no no no no. I did not mean for you to test that. No.” 

“but what if i did?” Sans asks mischievously. 

"No!"

He snaps. The world changes back to Peter’s bedroom, and Ned stumbles. 

“Hey. At least you gave some warning this time.” He mutters, leaning against the wall. 

This should be the time Peter would chime in with some complaint or joke. But there's nothing. 

The door opens before either of them can process that revelation. 

May walks in with a large basket full of laundry. “Hey boys! Where’s Peter?” She asks, looking around the small bedroom. 

“Uhhh—” 

“washroom” Sans quickly says. Ned breathes a quiet sigh of relief, and May nods. 

“Alright. Tell him that his laundry is here, okay?” She walks out, shutting the door behind her. 

Sans quickly teleports Peter back to the room, dumping him in the pile of laundry that May had put down. “sorry friend. forgot you existed there.” 

“Wow.” Peter stands up, dusting himself off and grinning shakily. “Such good friends I have. Not like I almost fell off a building or anything.” 

He does look a bit. It makes Sans wonder why he didn’t just ‘spider man’ out of it. 

“that situation would’ve really unfolded there, huh?” He grins right back at him. Ned slaps a palm to his face. “lotta things sewing on but not like you would dye from falling, spider man."

Peter points a finger accusingly at him, but he's smiling. “First of all, I didn’t have my web shooters with me. Second, those were the worst puns I've ever heard in my life.”

Ned snorts from his position on the other side of the room.

“Third–” He stops. “...I don’t have a third point. Still!” 

“i would make more, but i’ve run out of material."

It only takes a moment for Ned to come up with his own pun. “Old habits dye hard, don’t they?” 

“exactly!”Sans points at him dramatically

A snort, and Peter starts laughing, flopping onto the bed and holding his stomach.  

Ned starts to laugh too, leaning back against the wall as if that's going to help. 

Peter’s phone rings, blaringly loud and cutting off the laughter. He rushes over to pick it up, reading the words on the screen. “It’s Happy. Shh.” 

Setting it to speaker mode, he puts it up against the bed. “Hello?” 

“Peter.” Happy’s grouchy and disappointed voice echoes from the speaker. The person in question visibly gulps, as if he's in an action movie. “Got a blip on my phone here. You left Queens for a…a few seconds? To Maryland?” 

Peter laughs nervously. “I dunno. The tracker might’ve malfunctioned or something.”

“No no no. Tony’s tech doesn’t just malfunction. What happened?” 

“Look.” He sighs, and clasps his hands together, even if Happy can't see it. “The tracker said that I traveled several hundred miles in seconds. What do you think happened?” 

Silence. An almost silent sigh comes from the phone. “Well, what happened?” 

“I dunno. Nothing?” 

Click. The call ends. The screen turns black. 

“...welp.” 

“Welp,” Ned echoes. 

“Pfft.” Peter snickers, and—just like before—falls to the bed laughing. “HAHAh–did you hear that? He just–HahahHAHAHA–ended–” A pained wheeze comes from him as he gasps for breath. “...call. What was that? It was just—”

“Dude.” Ned walks over and pokes him as he bursts into another round of laughter. “Chill. I don’t want you to literally die of laughter. That would be bad.” 

“Yeah. Ow, my stomach.”

“killer joke.” Sans mentions offhandedly.

The door bursts open again, and May runs in like someone's getting murdered. “What. Is going on?

“...nothing”

Chapter Text

Sans closes his eye sockets, sending his consciousness over to where the bad guys were hiding—and winces at the loud yelling that comes through from the other end. The four—maybe five—men are fighting in the back of a stereotypical warehouse. 

There's shelves stacked to the sky, a roof at least two stories above a regular one, long corridors and clean, white walls. It looks like a storage warehouse, full of those kinds of wooden bases wrapped in opaque plastic. 

The only exit he can see from this angle is a massive mechanical door, made of some kind of metal. 

Crash!

One of the men throws down the device he's carrying hard, and it shatters against the smooth concrete floor. 

“THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?” The man who's—presumably—in charge steps forward and grabs the front of the other guy’s shirt, lifting him off the ground. The other man struggles, but ultimately can't overpower the strength he has.

His face slowly turns blue the longer he hangs there, unmoving. The angry one continues. “That could’a sold for around a thousand dollars! What were you thinking, destroying it like that?” He angrily gestures with his other hand while the other two men stand in an anxious silence. 

The other man is finally dropped, where he falls to his knees, clutching his stomach and heaving for breath. 

“I should have taught you a lesson a while ago; BEFORE you blew that van up and dragged that idiot spider man across half of New York!”  He yells, and looks over to another man, polishing a piece of metal. “You. Give me that.” 

“This?” The man asks, pointing to a gun on the table. 

He nods, and the man tosses it over. “See if you want to destroy more stuff after THIS!” 

A bright beam of light shoots out of the device, so quick that Sans almost misses it coming out. The man is vaporized in seconds. No one moves: all eyes are trained on the pile of ashes that's the only proof that the man was standing there barely a second ago. 

Finally, the guy holding the gun slowly turns towards the table, then to the man holding the steel. 

“...I thought this was the anti-gravity gun?” He asks slowly, punctuating every syllable like an elementary school teacher explaining pronunciation to a 5 year old.

The other man blinks. “...No? That one is.” He gestures to another, much bulkier gun leaning upright against the wall.

Sans also blinks, copying the man a second later, and tears his gaze from the shortcut towards Peter and Ned. They're both furiously scribbling on the worksheet that was given to them a few minutes ago by the teacher. 

He glances at his copy for the first time this class. The questions are all ones that he's seen before, just basic math and geometry. He’s already learnt this last time he went to school in the Underground. 

Sans is somewhat of a prodigy. Those aren't his words. He can still remember— vividly —his teachers whispering about him behind his back, being watched every minute of every test to make sure he wasn’t cheating, the hateful looks he got from every other student when he received his grades, etcetera. 

Pfft. Look at him now. In a whole other dimension. He’s achieved what the monsters of the Underground had dreamed of for years. Entirely by accident. Even he couldn't even have dreamed of going so far.

Besides, if everything is going to plan, Frisk should've freed the monsters by now. They will be living happy lives up on the surface, with nothing else to worry about. No time jumps, no resets, no random genocides. Happy. 

A sudden, quiet sound comes from beside him, where Peter's sitting. It sounds like…popping bubbles. 

He looks down to see an overflowing, foaming beaker inside an open drawer, and a hand holding a stick with stringy stuff hanging off of it. Following the hand with his eyes leads him to Peter, who's staring at the glass ecstatically

A click of heels comes from the front, and Peter quickly slams the drawer shut and pretends to focus on the worksheet. The teacher walks by and poked curiously at a drop of the white stuff he accidentally spilled, raising an eyebrow at Peter as her finger sticks to the table.

One good yank gets her finger off the table, and she inspects it, testing it for leftover residue. There's none, however, and Sans is beginning to have suspicions on what that strange fluid is. 

The teacher's looking at Peter. “Please clean this…substance off the table by the end of the class, Mr Parker.” 

Peter nods furiously, with a suspicious smile on his face. The moment the teacher walks off, Peter scrambles to grab a paper towel and scrub the drop off the table. 

“ANYWAYS,” Peter says loudly, “you know the academic decathlon trip is coming up, right?” 

“yup.”

“What about it?” Ned asks, glancing at the clock. He starts shoving his things into his backpack in preparation for the bell to ring. Both Peter and Sans start to do the same. 

Peter lowers his voice. “I searched it up. Its super close to the bad guy base. I could use that as an excuse to go take a look, instead of just randomly disappearing from my room, Sans.” 

“whaaaat. You mean you didn’t want to go to maryland the moment you found out? i can’t believe you.” 

“Not immediately!” The answer comes out as a hiss. He pauses. “Literally.” 

“Mr Parker.” The teacher's footsteps grow louder once again as she stalks back towards them. “I emailed your science teacher, and she told me that your class never worked with anything white or sticky. Can you please explain what this..liquid is?” 

Sans can visibly see sweat trickle down Peter’s neck as he nervously rubs the back of it with his wrist. Under the heavy scrutinization of the teacher, he struggles to think of an answer that doesn't give away what he was actually doing. 

Must Sans do everything? In the short time he’s even known Peter, it was like he can switch between being smart and dumb almost instantly. Ask him to solve this complicated math question, he would do it in 10 seconds. Tell him to talk his way out of a situation? It's like his brain shuts off. 

He needs something white. And sticky. And whaddya know, there's something right there.

Holding his hand out in the air, as if he's holding something in his palm, he looks around to make sure no one's watching. He’s seen a bottle of glue on the other side of the room, and after looking around some more, he creates a shortcut and grabs it out of—seemingly—thin air. 

He drops the bottle surreptitiously on the edge of the table, making it seem like it had toppled over on its own. A thump sounds, and the lid of the bottle comes off, spilling the contents all over the floor. 

The teacher whirls around, and jumps to avoid getting the glue on her shoes. The moment she turns around, Peter heaves a quiet sigh of relief and mouths ‘ thank you ’ to Sans, who gives him finger guns. 

“Whoops.” Ned fills in, poking the liquid with the end of his pencil.

“Oh yeah! That’s where the drop came from. Riiiight.” Catching on quickly, Peter leaps to his feet and takes a towel. “I’ll clean this up.” 

“Thank you, Mr Parker. Do finish that worksheet as well.” 

He nods fervently, bending down to wipe up the large amount of glue that spilled when no one did anything to stop it.

She walks away, and the moment she gets out of earshot, Sans grins. A second later, the glue Peter's wiping—and the towel he's holding—disappears. Bit unfortunate for a certain someone else who may or may not be dealing with it right now. 

On the other side of the school, a janitor is scratching his head at a spilled glue bottle, half soaked up in a paper towel. Which is interesting; this is the bathroom. How did glue get in here?

“Ned.” Peter slams his hands down on his desk dramatically. It's completely unnecessary, but he wants Ned’s attention. “We should hack my suit.” 

“What do you mean?” Ned asks nervously.
Peter gestures with one hand while holding a cup with the other. “You know, my suit.” 

Ned sighs. “I know . Why though?” 

“There’s a tracker in the suit. If I want to take down the bad guys, Happy can’t know.” 

Ned sits on Peter's bed, staring at Peter very seriously, as if he had just suggested committing a crime. Which, this probably is a crime. “So you’re lying to Iron Man now?” 

Under the gaze of his friend, Peter winces. “No, not like that. It’s just—he can’t know. Actually maybe I am. Omission probably. It’s fine.” 

“What’s fine about this? You’re going to hack into the gift that one of the most important people in the world gave you? Without telling him?” 

“But think about the bad guys! He’s not going to do anything, and if I try, he will stop me! I need to stop them. I want to prove that I’m capable of doing things.” 

They hold the stare for a few seconds before Ned deflates. Both mentally and physically. He flops backwards onto the bed. “Okay. Do what you want. If he finds out, it’s not my problem.” 

“Great!” Peter’s energy is immediately back to full, and he sprints to get his suit from its massive charging station in his closet. Really, it's a wonder that Aunt May hasn't found it yet. “Open your laptop. I need it.” 

If only Sans is here. He had left after school ended, saying “i have things to do”  without elaborating. He then stepped behind a tree and promptly vanished.

Who knows where the hell he went. 

Ned groans, putting his hands over his eyes. “Fineeee.” 

Chapter Text

Two days later. Peter envisions his life as one of the time skips from Spongebob, because it has been two days since he had last seen any sign of Sans. He had tried calling—after a day of trying to get his number. No answer.

He's starting to get worried, but at the same time—he knows what that man–boy–skeleton…person is capable of. Also, he can teleport. There's basically nothing anyone can do to keep him anywhere if they try. 

He hopes. 

It isn't like he knows what exactly Sans could do. He knows more than Ned, and that’s about it. 

The two are standing on the bus to go to the academic decathlon in Washington, D.C. Students mill about outside of the vehicle, and they watch as the chaperone tries to calm everyone down. 

Once everyone's settled and the bus starts moving, Liz, the captain of the decathlon team, stands up with a handful of flash cards. “Let’s get some last minute practice in before we get there guys.” She calls, and the bus went silent. 

She shuffles the cards and pulls one out, while another student distributes a couple of bells to ring. 

“Thanks.” Peter says to his classmate as he is handed his buzzer. Abe, his name is. 

Abe smiles. “You’re welcome.” He sits back down.

“Alright. First topic….”

“Shmancy.” That's Ned’s first remark upon seeing the hotel they're going to be staying at for the night. The competition is tomorrow, and everyone's on edge. 

Everyone except for that one girl. MJ, Peter thinks her name is. 

The chaperone/teacher dude claps. “Everyone, get to your rooms. Lights out at 8:30.” 

“ WHAT!?” Flash thunders, storming down the hallway in anger. He was probably planning to party all night or something.

They're currently on a bed. Lights were supposed to be out over an hour ago, but no one wanted to sleep so the chaperone just gave up. Ned has his computer out, and is looking through the suit while Peter's refilling his web fluid. 

“Peter?” Ned asks, staring at his screen intensely. 

He pokes his head over the bed. “What?” Ned doesn't answer for a few seconds, still scrolling through the lines of code.
“It says here…that you’re on the ‘training wheels protocol.’”

“What?” Peter says again, rushing over to have a look at Ned’s screen. There it is. Training wheels protocol. “It’s blocking something.” He notices.

Ned nods. “Yeah. Says here that it disables a lot of the suit's features.” 

“Turn it off.” 

Now it's Ned’s turn to stare. “Turn it off? Without telling Iron Man? Are you insane?” 

Instead of arguing, Peter just pouts like a child. “If you’re not going to help me, I’ll just do it myself anyways.” It isn't like Ned's the only one that knows how to code. 

Ned heaves a long sigh. “Whatever you say. It's not my fault if he rats you out.” He mutters, typing away at the computer. “Again.” He says in a lower voice. Peter huffs.

He stands on the balcony of his hotel room. The teacher had come over to yell at them for not turning the lights off, but lights off doesn’t mean sleep. At least not to Peter. Lights off means lights off. Lights off does not mean going to bed. That’s ridiculous. 

Unfortunately, Ned didn't—and wouldn’t—listen to his brilliant reasoning and went to bed anyway. He can still hear him snoring from here.

Peter, on the other hand, is going to go scout out the city for potential bad guy trucks and stuff. Maybe bust some deals. He pulls on his mask with a determined frown. 

The rest of his suit is under his hoodie, whose hood he pulls on the moment he jumps out of the safety of the balcony railings and lands in a tree.

Man, a whole new city to explore. More bad guys to catch. More ways to prove himself to Iron Man, and maybe even join the Avengers! What a dream.

“Hello Peter.” An automated voice comes from the mask the moment he lands. Peter startles, looking around frantically to locate the mysterious voice. “What?” 

“Congratulations For Completing The Rigorous And Difficult Training Wheels Protocol, Peter Parker” 

He blinks, and the eyes in front of his suit whir as it does the same. “Oh. Uh. Thanks.” 

“You Are Welcome, Peter.” The voice answers. “Where Are You Going Today?”

A pause as Peter thinks about the question. Deciding to test the AI out, he just says:

“I’m looking for some bad guys. They have alien weapons and they make them…somewhere near here. Can you find them?”

“Affirmative. Opening Automatic Recordings.” 

“Automatic…what? I’ve been recording?” 

“This Suit Records All The Action That It Detects.” 

Well, that doesn't seem that bad. “Cool.” He wonders what Iron Man has seen. The cool action scenes? Or is the suit recording everything? He should probably check next time he gets the chance.

Leaping from the tree, he loops a web on a lamppost, launching himself off the ground. “Have you found them yet?” He questions the suit.

“Starting Facial Recognition.” The bot answers. It has a distinctly female tone to it. 

“Whoa.” Peter breathes as holograms are brought up in his vision, and freeze frames of the bad guys appear. The image zooms in and a loading bar that reads “Recognizing Faces” appears. 

“Jackson Brice.” The AI intones, and several portraits of one of the men that was selling weapons materialize. “Herman Schultz.” The second man from that night pops up. A loading circle appears, and a recording of the guy in the flying suit pops up on the left.

“Unable to identify.” 

Peter blinks. “Oh. That’s okay. We got a few leads; are you able to track them?” The amount of new things this suit can suddenly do is overwhelming. He can probably make breakfast just by thinking about it next.

Actually, Mr Stark did say he put everything in this suit…

“Unknown Hardware Detected.” The automated voice snaps him back to reality. Realizing he’d been sitting on a roof for a while, Peter runs to the edge and jumped. He had done this action almost every day for 6 months, but it's never not going to be fun to sail off a tall building. It's almost like flying—scratch that. It's better than flying. 

Flying isn’t a rapid, exhilarating free fall that makes you feel free. Flying isn’t going to make your heart pump a thousand miles per hour and hype you up like a child going to a birthday party. Only free fall can do that, and the feeling of swinging at a hundred miles per hour around everything is something that flying just cannot replicate. 

“Peter?” “Peter.” For the second time that minute, the AI snaps him out of his imaginary trance, and he blinks; just to see the ground rushing up towards his face. 

In his daydreaming about falling, he had forgotten that he was, in fact, falling. “Wha—AAAHH!” He yells. 

“Deploying Emergency Parachute.” The voice has a much quicker—and more useful—reaction than Peter can have ever come up with. 

“Whoa!” His arms suddenly whip up behind him, and a butt-ton of webs deploy almost instantly, creating a large parachute that helps soften the landing a lot. 

The moment he finds steady footing on the ground, the webs are sucked back up into the shooters. “Wow.” Peter breathes, holding up his wrists to inspect. “Reusable webs.” 

Usually, his webs just dissipate after an hour or so. He specifically makes them this way to prevent annoying long strings everywhere he swings, where it's hard to reach and clean off. 

A blinking light appears on a map, heading almost straight towards Peter. Looking up, he watches as a large vehicle zooms past, tires screeching as it aggressively turns a corner, metal crashing inside as it nearly tips over from the force of the turn. 

He jumps up, startled. “ That’s the truck?” 

“Yes, Peter.” 

He sighs, then bursts off the ground in a sprint as he chases down the speeding truck. Going that fast isn't great for using webs, as Peter can barely bring his arms up to use them with how fast he's going. 

The webs shriek as they deploy out of his gadgets anyway, and locks onto the back of the truck, nearly tripping him as the speed he's going suddenly nearly doubles. 

On the other hand, the truck slows down with the force that Peter's pulling, and startled shouting fills the air as one of the windows roll down. A gun shaped device pokes out of the window and shoots. The force of the recoil single-handedly pulls the truck forwards, and Peter uses that newfound momentum to launch himself off the ground and dodge the blast. 

“Whoa. What the heck was that?” For once, the suit does not have an answer. What it does have though, is a heck of a lot of other things. 

“Would You Like Me To Pull Up The Web Menu?” 

Sitting on the relatively safe roof of the truck, Peter just shrugs and says, “why not?”

A mechanical whirr sounds as a holographic menu slides open like a blooming flower, revealing almost a hundred different web options. Peter’s eyes nearly buldge out of his head. 

“What the fu—” Aunt May would not be proud of him for saying that, but luckily, the truck he forgot he's currently sitting on suddenly crosses a speed bump, throwing him into the air because he isn't holding on. “I’m sorry May!” He yells, flailing all of his limbs around trying to right himself in order to shoot another web back onto the truck. 

The driver, sensing that he's no longer hanging on, tries his hardest to speed off while he's still in the air. Unluckily for him, Peter’s webs are faster. “HAH! I GOT YOU NOW.” Peter yells ecstatically. 

He leaps back onto the truck, running down the length of the carry on—as in the massive load that was tied to the back of the truck—and crashing through the window on the back, staring at the driver. “You!” He calls, pointing this finger heroically—at least he likes to think—at the man. 

He hears a faint shuffle behind him, and the sound of something being picked up. “Hello?” Moving to turn, Peter is surprised to find himself face-to-face with a frying pan.

Chapter Text

Okay. Sans had left because he had sensed a large amount of magic somewhere near China. So he left to check it out. (Emphasis on the check. ) He had not decided to get himself captured—although not unwillingly, for three days, waiting for someone called the “Ancient One” to question him for trespassing.

Before he had been—very rudely, might he add—cuffed and shipped off to this place called “Kamar-Taj” in Tibet, he had happened upon some sort of fight. He'd only gotten a glimpse of the chaos (entire buildings getting flipped upside down, portals, fractals in the fabric of reality; crazy stuff, to be honest.), before he got snuck up on and “caught” in handcuffs. The only reason he's still there right now was because he's curious about what the heck was going on earlier. 

The door slams open. There's bars separating the door area with the “cell,” although it can hardly be called that. It's just a room. It doesn't look like they plan to keep anyone here for very long.

Someone stomps in, holding a large whip and scowling. He holds it up and it condenses with a bright flash of light, shrinking into a foot long pole. The dude has a clean shaven head, chocolate colored skin, and is wearing long robes with a belt in which he tucks the pole into. It fits snug against his side. 

“Well what do we have here?” He asks imperiously, striding up to the flimsy cell bars and placing his hands on his hips. “How did a teenager— white teenager, find his way into Tibet? And conveniently be able to see through the illusion?” 

Illusion?

"is that rhetorical?” 

Robe Dude’s frown deepens. “No.” So humor isn’t so common here, it seems. A shame.

Sans leans back against the wall, pretending to think while putting his hand on his chin. “well, i was just strolling through this place—you called it tibet, right?—when i turned the corner and happened to see this thing. and; i dunno, it looked a lot like a building being flipped upside down." The frown gets deeper, which is already more than Sans thinks was possible. 

“so, uh, like any other random teenager in the middle of nowhere,” he puts a lot of emphasis on the teenager part of the sentence. “i was very, let’s say, surprised, when i saw that, like anyone would be.” He pushes himself away from the wall, walking slowly towards the front. “could you explain that, maybe?” 

“What do you mean!?” The guy has pretty bad anger issues or something, because he immediately starts yelling. Sans puts his hands up in surrender. 

“whoa. calm down bud. no need to gravitate towards violence. what’d i do?” 

“You didn’t answer any of my questions! What do you mean, ‘what’d I do?’” In the middle of the sentence, the door swings open again, revealing a person wearing a long yellow robe and their face shadowed by a large hood. 

“Calm, Mordo. I’ll take it from here.” That voice is calm, in control, and strangely soothing. The man backs down immediately. 

“Fine.” His face softens a bit. “Be careful. Who knows what that…person can do.” 

One can only presume this is the Ancient One. They chuckle, saying: “I doubt this was all but a misunderstanding. You may go, I can take care of it.” 

With one last suspicious look cast towards Sans, Mordo sweeps out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The Ancient one raises two hands, in a careful position, and starts making circles with the one in the front. Power slowly wafts off of the odd, two finger ring that was on their hand, and a swirling portal appears. 

They stick their hand through and pulls a chair out, placing themself on it with the grace of a monarch. Posture straight, hands delicately on their lap. Those hands lift to take the hood off, revealing…a lady. Or at least, they look like one, but with their head shaved clean, pale skin and smile lines on the corner of their eyes, they look pretty androgynous. 

Either way, it doesn't matter that much. Lotta monsters don't align with one gender or another. They smile, leaning over. “I’m the Ancient One. A pleasure.” 

“yeah. of course.” Sans replies, although he doesn't pay as much attention to her as the ring on her fingers. Magic courses through the piece of metal, going in and out as fluidly as water flowing through a river. 

“I just have a few questions about what you just saw, then we can escort you out of here. It was wrong for Mordo to put you in here like that, and I apologize.” They bow their head. 

Sans stiffens at the sudden apology. “oh, um. thanks, i guess. it’s alright.” 

“It was wrong.” Sans nods. 

“How did you get here? You didn’t seem to know where this place was when i saw you earlier.” Straight to the point. That's nice.

Sans thinks for a bit. “i dunno. i kinda just happened around here. it was…sudden.” 

“Sudden how?” The Ancient One narrows their eyes. The deflection isn’t going to work, apparently.

“i dunno.” He grins nervously. 

He can practically feel the empathy coming off of this person. Strangely, although it's usually quite hard to tell, they shine with specifically empathy, not sympathy. Many people don’t usually think there’s a difference, but there was, and it usually says something about that person. They remind him of Papyrus. Or maybe everything's just reminding him of Papyrus these days.

They seem almost—motherly in a way, motherly in the way a leader could feel. They're important—that's obvious. They frown, and move to get up. 

“I have no more questions, and you’re free to go. Do you have a place of residence?” They ask him, looking at him intently.

Sans shakes his head mutely. It doesn't seem like the right time for jokes, even if this entire situation is fake. 

“Don’t worry, I can arrange something easily.” With that said, the Ancient One stands to the side of the room and repeated the strange movements again, creating another portal. Sans watched as swirls of magic slowly flew off of the strange ring and attached themselves to the forming portal. The Ancient One steps through, beckoning him to follow.

Sans whistles as he steps out of his shortcut. (Don’t ask him how, considering he still technically doesn't have lips.) It's amazing how much he can accomplish by doing nothing. He has a sweet new suite in a random hotel in the middle of nowhere and a reason to hang around Kamar-Taj with an excuse that he wants to “learn” magic when he gets “older.” 

He looks around. Shortcutting with a person instead of a destination in mind is trippy sometimes, because he never knows where he's going to end up. Fortunately for him, he recognizes the place. 

If he just walks around this corner…yep. There's that pile of ashes that used to be a man. Looking closer, he can still see some shattered glass from that device the other man had thrown. So it was that warehouse that Peter's in right now. 

“Grenade Web.” An automated voice sounds throughout the empty warehouse. “Grenade web!?” A much more familiar voice follows. A peek around a shelf confirms: yes, that is Peter with his suit on, running around tossing different webs at the massive door. 

“Grenade web!” Peter echoes himself, throwing a (whaddya know,) grenade shaped web at the door, watching with joy as it explodes into different strings.

Laughing to himself, he throws another. And another. “What else can this suit do?”

"you know what else it can do?" Sans calls, deepening his voice. Peter yelps and spins around. He teleports behind Peter line of sight as he turns. 

“it can summon me.” 

“WHAT THE–”

“hi.” 

“SANS!” Turning around again, Peter jumps back and the eyes on his suit widen. Suddenly, a red flash goes across the aforementioned eyes. “Unauthorized Being Detected. Would You Like Me To Remove Them Peter?” 

“Wait! I know him, it’s fine. No no no no no.” 

“Okay Peter.” The smooth, controlled voice is a sharp contrast to the quick and brash voice that Peter has. During this entire reaction, Sans just stands there, observing calmly with a entertained grin on his face. To be fair, it's amusing.

“What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you for three days!”

“doing things.” >

“What things?”

Sans' smile grows wider. “stuff.”

Peter groans. “Do you always have to do this?” 

“maybe.” 

Peter sighs, defeated. “Alright. Karen, did you record this?” 

Something inside the suit whirrs, just slightly. “No Peter. I Only Record When You Want Me To.”

A sigh of relief. “Good.” 

“that an ai?” Sans asks, moving closer to take a look. He CHECKS it to find tiny traces of magic in between the metal. The CHECK calls it “nanotechnology.” 

Stars. He wonders if Peter even knows. A thought occurs to him. It see s like a similar thought came to Peter as well, as he rushes up to Sans excitedly. “Wait! You can get me out of here! I have to warn Ned about the glowy core thing. It could explode if it’s exposed to different waves and stuff!” 

“that sounds not good.” Sans acknowledges. “where do you want to go?” 

He waits as Peter thinks. “Well, I probably missed the decathlon, so they would probably go to the Washington monument next.” 

The monument, huh? Fortunately, Sans knows where that is. He snaps, purely for show. “done.” 

The scenery changed. In the moment it takes for Peter to re-adjust himself, a scream tears through the air.

Chapter Text

“Hold on Ned! I’m coming!” Peter yells as he rushes to web his way to the top. Sans, on the other hand, is content to do—yup you guessed it—absolutely nothing. Peter can probably handle it. 

He plops himself down on the damp bit of grass the two teleported on and watches the show. Spidey is halfway up the giant spike thingy by the time he looks up, and ascending quickly. A chopping sound draws his attention away from the monument and he turns his eyes (eyelights—whatever,) to see a giant metal thingie floating its way towards the top of the spike. 

It has a massive propeller on the top, and on the side of the long tail hanging on the back. One of the doors is open, and someone is hanging out on the side with a vicious grip on the handlebar on the wall, with the other hand holding some kind of horn. 

The officer-looking person opens their mouth. “This is the D.C. Metro Police. Identify yourself.” His voice booms through the horn, and Peter turns around in surprise. 

He shouts something back, but Sans can't make out the words. He takes a shortcut closer to the action, right on top of the other flying machine, where some other people are holding an absolutely massive camera. 

A lady dressed in some fancy dress stands right in front, holding some sort of microphone. “-police are investigating the presence of a mysterious person in a suit—hey! What was that?” She questions as Sans drops onto the roof. 

The entire helicopter dips a little, which is an achievement considering how light Sans is. People on the inside scramble to take a look at what's bothering them, and Sans rushes to cloak himself with some cyan magic, which basically renders him invisible as long as he doesn't move. 

“It’s nothing, ma’am.” One of the camera crew says as he climbs up to the top—with no safety equipment, might Sans add. A bit precarious, and an interesting life choice. That guy probably doesn't have Iron Man on standby if something goes wrong.
The man climbs back down; the woman with the mic turns back to the action. There's a now window broken, and smoke is rising out from the tip of the spike.

“Anyways, the mysterious man—” Sans tunes her out. Peter has managed to evade the police and had slipped inside the top of the building. He sighs. It was no use trying to see what's going on. He doesn't even know what the inside of that building looks like, much less any good hiding spots. 

Dejectedly, Sans drops his cloaking magic with a faint whoosh and teleports back to where he had started and waits. 

And waits.

And waits.

Eventually, he dozes off. 

Sans? Sans! Sans! A faint sensation of shaking overcomes him as he sleeps. Wait. Peter? Sans has his eyes open and is standing in a second. 

He relaxes when he realizes where he is. 

“Sans!” The boy in question whisper-shouts as he moves to shake him again. 

At least, where Sans used to be. Hand stopped mid movement, realization flashes in the boy’s eyes and he looks up to where Sans had teleported. “Sans!”

“heya. did you save the peeps?”

Peter bounces excitedly, words coming out of him like a bullet train driving off the tracks. “Yeah! It was so cool too! I held the entire elevator—with the class in it—up with my webs. Ned’s explody core thing went through the metal detectors and Karen said it was explosive, so it exploded, and the elevator they were on fell. It was so hard to lift up too, but then Liz looked at me like I was the greatest, and—” He stops suddenly, looking down while his neck flushed bright red. 

“That’s good.” 

Peter looks up again. “Yeah.” He says, his whole demeanor changing at the mention of Liz. 

He looks a bit like a lost puppy, though Sans doesn't mention it. 

“Peter! Sans!” The two see Ned running towards them, the rest of the decathlon team following behind. “Where have you been? MJ won the entire tournament!”

“Yeah. Without you.” Flash butts in, smirking. 

Sans grinned, and he sidles up to Flash, who frowns at him menacingly. Too bad for him, it doesn't work. “y’know, i would’ve helped, but all my good answers argon, if you know what i mean.”

He gives the bully a second to think. “Hey wait—”

Sans’ smile grew wider. “my jokes are out of this world, don’cha think? don’t take this comet -y too sirius -ly though. i want to say more, but the words were at the tip of my tung-sten, which is sodium funny, isn’t it?”

Flash just stands there, mouth open and watching Sans numbly; either processing his hilarious jokes or in shock. Either way, it's funny, and he can see the rest of the team, who are catching up to Ned, start giggling. 

Even the chaperone’s mouth is twitching a little. 

“whaaaat. are my jokes too basic for you? ‘cause i see no reaction. maybe i should use them a bit more periodically, would that make you feel better?”

“NO!” Finally, Flash explodes. It felt like he's letting it build up inside him. The self restraint has to break some time. It just takes the right puns—or, should he say, the right amount of puns. “What is it with you and these stupid puns? Where do you even find them? Is this why you didn’t come to the tournament, because you’re too much of a loser to do anything else? Anything else ‽ ”

Luckily, Sans has pretty thick skin. Still, the loser bit hits him. He's careful not to let it show on his face, but the petty insult brings back memories that he hadn’t thought about in at least a week. I mean, come on. Give him a break, wontcha?

“You didn’t answer a single question, Flash.” A girl in the back calls, while her giggling friends whisper together. Flash’s face does that interesting thing where it twists into multiple different expressions in the span of a few seconds, before finally settling on irritation and causing him to stomp to the back of the class and sulk. 

“welp.” Sans says, shoving his hands into his pockets and tilting his head towards Peter. Half of the class still seems like they're processing what just happened, which—come to think about it—happens a lot around him. 

He can't have imagined why for a second. Jerking a thumb behind him, he jokingly says, “guy can’t take a joke, can he?” 

Peter simultaneously snorts and scoffs at the same time, resulting in an...interesting noise. “That wasn’t a joke, that was like a million.” 

“Less than a million.” Ned chimes in. The chaperone looks between the three with an innocent air. 

“But a lot.” Peter retorts. 

“Sure.” 

“ya want more? I got more.” 

"No." Comes the hurried reply. 

Sans grins. He misses playful banter; it’s been a while since he could. Last time was with Undyne over the correct way to toast bread, he remembers. 

She had tried to use a toaster that had washed up in the river—clearly, it had stopped working a while ago. Sans just thought the easiest way was to just flame it with magic. And being the hotheaded fish lady that she is, Alphys was immediately brought over to see if she could work her magic. Literally. Instead of asking her to actually fix it, Undyne had just told her to blast it with her lightning.

The (soon-to-be) couple had argued for a few minutes before Alphys had finally relented, unable to talk sense through to her and with a rare, sudden burst of confidence, just ended up blasting the thing. 

Whether or not that was to actually attempt to fix it, or to just prove a point, well, it didn’t magically get fixed, either way. (Heh, magically. See what he did there?)

Anyone could probably guess what happened next. KABOOM! Metal scraps flying everywhere! Apologies flying everywhere! Alphys nearly having a panic attack after Undyne got the tiniest nick in her ear fin thingies! More apologies! Sans eating a hot dog while chaos ensued around him! 

You get the idea. Fun times. 

The poor chaperone is trying to bring order to the rowdy group of kids, furiously clapping his hands as if they are actually going to listen. Peter and Ned sit on the side, one sipping a juice box and the latter digging through his backpack. 

Ned, with a slightly guilty smile, produces the glowy thing—as in, the shell of the glowy thing, as the glass holding the glowy bit had shattered. “It exploded right after I went through the metal detector,” Ned explains to Peter, who's writing notes on a notebook, occasionally glancing at the hidden web shooters on his wrists as if they're going to do something when he isn't paying attention.

Sans, with a relaxed grin and hands—once again—in his pockets, sidles up to them. “Wassup?” 

“Sans!” Peter greets. “Karen said that the glowy thingie is called a ‘Chitauri Energy Core.' Dunno what that means, but sounds alienish.” 

Ned looks up from studying the exploded core. “Karen?”

“Yeah! The AI–” he lowers his voice after a quick glance around, “on my suit.” 

“Ohh.” Ned nods, and sits back. 

The chaperone, finally giving up on his fight with order, puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles so loud, the hair around his face ripples like its in wind. “FINALLY!” He shouts. 

“We. Are. Leaving. Get on the bus and pack your stuff. We go home tomorrow.” Chatter resumes slowly as the chaperone, fingers rubbing his temples, storms onto the bus.

Chapter Text

A huff comes from the front of the bus. The chaperone of this trip has been pouting like a child ever since they had come on the bus. It seems that the students had pulled his last nerve. Anyhow, the rest of the students are doing whatever they want. Liz and her friends are on their phones near the front, while most of the boys (not including Flash) are at the back. 

It's rather boring, and after several hours of driving, Peter is so bored that he feels like he's going to die. 

“I am going to dieee.” Ned moans, echoing Peter’s earlier thoughts. 

“what? the heat gettin’ to ya?” Sans teases. He's sitting at the window seat, back leaning against the wall, directly in the sun with a hoodie on.

Peter groans. “Are you not hot at all?” 

“i am, to a certain degree. ”

He groans again. Sans is always making jokes, honestly if he's in a horrible situation, the jokes will still come. Where's he even coming up with these? It's just an endless stream of puns. 

“you know,” Sans continues, casually studying his nails (or lack thereof), “if there was a dog here, it would be called a hot dog.” Or a chili dog if it was cold, Peter silently finishes the joke. As if Sans knows exactly what he was thinking, he grins knowingly and taps his head with a finger. 

The chaperone claps. “Okay, children.” He muttered something much less kind under his breath. “We are going to arrive in twenty minutes. Get ready to get off.” 

“Finally!” Ned quietly cheers, and both Peter and Sans share that sentiment. Wanting to get off already, Peter bounces in his seat. 

Sans chuckles in his abnormally low voice. Peter had heard it go lower before, just a day earlier when he scared him in the warehouse. “settle down. still twenty minutes, remember? Or is your brain a little baked? ”

“No, no,” Peter says. “I’m just really bored. Who knew that sitting on a school bus would be boring? Not me, that’s who.” A snort comes from Ned’s general direction, but—as a glance over to him confirmed—Ned's trying to hide it, covering his mouth with a hand. 

“So what did you expect?” He asks, lowering that hand and looking towards Peter, who lifted his own hand to his face in pretend thought. 

“Hmm, I dunno. What’s the opposite of boring?” 

Ned shrugs with a grin. 

The bus suddenly stops, then hurtles off the road with a terrifying screech. Several students scream as their luggage in the top racks began falling down.

As the bus tips, Peter sees the cause of the sudden accident: a blur of a truck speeding off into the distance. Behind it, a white car follows at a close pace, looking like a white streak against the gray road.

“WHAT IS THAT!” A girl screams as a round object rolls off the back of the truck. Peter’s eyes widened as he took it in. It looked a lot like…a certain glowy object. 

“It’s going to explode!” He yells as his spider sense kicks in—for once—and causes him to dive and roll over to the ball, throwing it as far as he can. Which is pretty far; the thing sails over a river to the hill on the other side. 

KABOOM! A massive cloud of dust and other various materials explodes in the air. The shockwave that followed pushes the already tilting bus the rest of the way to the ground. Peter hits his head on the ground as he staggers his way back into the bus, falling on the floor. 

“Peter!” Ned yells as he struggles to get around the tipped bus, having to crawl through piles of dropped luggage and tipped chairs. 

“EVERYONE STAY CALM. WE WILL FIGURE THIS OUT.” Chaperone dude bellows over the sound of students not using their inside voices. Which makes sense, cause they’re outside. Chaperone (yes, that’s his name now) paces around frantically, muttering just loud enough for everyone to hear him, “and by ‘figure this out’ I mean call 911.” 

Cue aggressive typing on the dude’s phone. 

“I can’t believe you almost got run over!” Peter’s aunt May hurries around him, fussing over him like a mom. Which she basically is to him. Around them, many parents are doing the same thing, while the school’s principal is working on reporting the pictures that were taken to the police. 

“I can’t believe we almost got run over!” The poor, agitated chaperone is pacing around the bus, typing into his phone. Ned is being hassled by his lola to go home. It's chaos. 

On the bright side, they won the award, right?

More like everyone else won the award. Peter was busy doing what? Doing nothing. He clenches his hands so hard that they start shaking, but he's too busy thinking. Mr. Stark doesn’t think the bird-dude is a problem? If he just does the job instead, maybe he'll start taking Peter more seriously, right? 

Right. He has to figure out a plan. Find the dudes, and…fight them. Defeat them! 

“Peter?” May taps him on the hand as she asks, “you wanna go home? Sans, I can give you a lift if you want”

“ok. thanks.” 

Peter blinks. “Oh–well, yeah. Lead the way!” He grins and salutes playfully, causing May to giggle at his attempts to march. 

“Of course, soldier.” She salutes back and walks off with her nose in the air. Peter snorts, and runs up to the car as May's getting in. Sans strolls in behind him.

May looks at Peter when he gets in worriedly. “Peter. If you’re worried about the cars, the absolute monsters” Sans winces at that word for some reason, “that would threaten the lives of children of all people. The police will take care of them. Don’t worry.” 

“Yeah.” Peter halfheartedly agrees with her. Of course the police won't. They don’t ever do anything. It has to be him.

She pulls up to their house thirty minutes later, parking as neatly as ever, and steps out. Peter and Sans follows, and as Sans walks up towards them, he suddenly stops, as if remembering something. “it’s okay ms parker. i can find my own way… home. thanks, by the way. ” 

“Of course.” May smiles. 

Sans grins back and ambles off, slipping off the moment May turns away. 

He'd said “home” really weirdly, which makes sense considering his situation. Where does he go off to at night then? Peter has the impression that magical skeletons don’t really need sleep, but maybe he's wrong. Did he have a place? A hotel suite, maybe? 

Well, it really wasn’t that important. Sans does Sans things.

May looks over her shoulder back at Peter. “You should go to sleep early. You've had a long couple of days, didn’t you? I heard about the attack on the Washington Monument. And that your class was on the elevator. No one got hurt, right?” She frowns. “You were saved by Spider-Man, if I heard correctly. Doesn’t he usually operate in New York? What was he doing in Washington?”

Peter stiffens. Of course May will be the one to notice. No one else had, including news centers. He should’ve known that May's smarter than the media. God dammit. 

“Well,” May continues while Peter's lost in his thoughts, “bad people can pop up anywhere. Maybe he just got a…tip, or something, about that terrorist.” 

Terrorist…explosions. That Chitauri energy core; Ned! People think that was a terrorist attack? That would explain why May knew about the incident so soon after it happened. The news is usually much slower with these kinds of things. 

“Anyhow, I’m glad you’re safe.” May had put her things down by that time, and she turns to give Peter a warm smile. 

Peter finally manages an answer, “I’m glad too.” May chuckles, and gently pushes Peter towards the stairs. 

“Go get some sleep.” 

“Okay.”

Another smile; Peter's left with a warm, fuzzy feeling as he slowly traipses upstairs.

Chapter Text

“Come on, come on! They’ve gotta be here somewhere!” Peter frantically whispers to his suit. It's nearly sunrise, and he had spent the last few days pacing around the city during the night, searching for the bad guys to no avail. Usually, when he has to take out the bad guys, he has a tip or something that would lead him in the right direction. This time, nada. Nothing. He's starting to get impatient. 

“Would You Like Me To Do Another Scan Peter?” The suit replies to his suffering irritatingly calmly. 

“Yes! Please!” 

“Commencing Scan Number 81.” A graph pops up in his suit, with waves pulsing out to as far as the end of the city. Peter doesn't know what he expected, but as usual, nothing happened. He sighs in defeat. 

And yet, suddenly: “Illegal Devices Detected.” A flickering dot appears on the map. Peter nearly whoops with excitement, but simmers down as he's right next to his house, hiding. Obviously, he doesn't want May to hear him. 

“Where is it?” He mutters as he swings out of the neighbourhood. 

The suit whirs softly. The map zooms in to reveal a port on the east end of the city. Information appears below. It looks like the supplier has a car parked on a ferry, scheduled to take off in the morning. Peter has to be quick. 

Bracing himself, he unwinds a lot of web and flings himself off the ground with all of his strength, flying over the entirety of New York. Now, where's the port…there! A decently sized orange ferry with dozens of cars parked inside just sit there like it's basically waiting to get raided by a bunch of criminals. Perfect. 

He had planned to leap down from the roof, maybe land in a cool pose and get the people to surrender. It would’ve been so cool!

Instead, he jumps down, lands awkwardly on a wire that he does not see, flipped around it twice and lands on the floor of the ferry with a thump. Thankfully, no one was there to witness his tragic failure. Which is nice. 

Hmm, so all the cars look the same. None of them screams “bad guy” just by looking at it. Damn, he was hoping for a sign that said “Bad Guy Here!”, preferably with a bunch of flashy colours so that he would know where to look. 

“Karen?” Peter asks wearily, the name having been the only thing he’d said to her in three days straight. 

Thankfully, his suit is not programmed to be impatient, or annoyed, for that matter. “Yes Peter?” Karen responds immediately. 

“Can you do another scan? Around this ferry?” 

“Of Course Peter.” 

He sighs. “Thanks.” 

The suit pings, but instead of the usual green, the map marker is blue. Of course, Peter doesn't notice, swinging immediately towards the direction of the marker. It's on the opposite edge of the ferry, near the bow. He jumps down, landing in a crouched position waiting for a fight. Instead though…

“Sans!?” Peter squeaks, leaping away from the skeleton. 

The skeleton in question grins, gives him finger guns and winks, all at the same time. “sup?” 

“How are you—okay.” Peter stops himself, knowing full well that Sans isn't going to answer him. “Was that scan marker you?” 

“yep.” 

“Can you change it back now?” 

Sans grins and a quiet ping! sounds. “you should really check your map more often.” Peter checks—and sure enough, it's back to green, and in a different area, back where he first started. His mouth falls open. 

“You dragged me all the way here just to tell me that where I needed to be was where I started?” 

“yup.” 

Peter groans, and leaps up, leaving Sans in the dirt. When he swings all the way back to the other side, guess who's standing there? Sans. 

Not like Peter's even surprised at this point. 

“heya. again. why'd you leave me in the dirt? i was gonna offer you a shortcut, but if you insist on taking the long way, hey, i'm not going to stop you. the car you’re lookin for is over there. it’s white. i’ll just be here.” He points, gives two thumbs up, then plops on the ground. 

Peter scans the parking lot, noting at least three white cars in the vicinity of where Sans is even pointing. He's just going to have to scout them all out, since Karen’s map isn’t that detailed.

Car number one…nothing. Car number two has a bunch of mechanical tools inside, but since none of them are glowing purple, Peter moves on. Of course it's the last one. A man leans on the back of the car, smoking a cigarette. 

He looks up as Peter lands, face impassive, and grunts, throwing his smoke on the ground and putting it out with his boot. “So you’re that Spider Man that threw the boss into a frenzy. Can’t say you look that impressive.” 

“So what?” Peter shoots back. “Aren’t you going to try to stop me then?” 

The man snorts. “‘Try.’ Such confidence. The answer is no. Why would I bother?” 

“Why?” Peter asks in confusion. Shouldn’t the grunts help their boss? Or did he just get the wrong person entirely? The man did mention “boss” so he must have the right person. He takes a deep breath. “Never mind. You need to stand down. Those weapons are dangerous.” 

“Damn right they’re dangerous.” A voice snarks into his ear, then laughs as Peter whirls around in a panic. They're nowhere to be seen, but a device had dropped as a gust of wind swirls through the parking lot. It beeps rapidly, glowing brighter as time goes on. He hears a shuffle behind him again, and he turned to find that the weapons dealer had disappeared, and Sans had walked up behind him, studying the device with a mild interest. 

“Sans! How do I stop this thing?” Peter whispers anxiously, but Sans only shrugs. 

“dunno. i think it’s going to explode.” 

That's very helpful. Peter decides the best way to stop the thing is to web it up. At least, when it eventually explodes, it won't go everywhere. He'd experimented with the different webs earlier, and there's one that absorbs and releases energy. This seems like a decent time to test it out in real time. He swings out his arm, and as he presses the release trigger on his web shooter, he hears a whoosh behind him. 

Reacting too late, Peter feels strong arms grab onto him and lifts him into the air, and as he cries out, he sees a flash of metal bowl Sans over. “Sans!” He yells, struggling against his attacker. 

He doens't have time to check if Sans is even still alive after being shredded with that thing before being pulled away, web still attached to the beeping device. “No!” He cries desperately, trying to cut the web and drop it in the ocean. Whenever he tries, however, the man will notice and swerve, causing him to have to grab on to avoid being dropped in himself. 

As he's lifted higher and higher in the air, the beeping from the device gets louder. He twists around, hoping to get a better look at his attacker when the giant metal thing from earlier snaps the wire. Peter watches desperately as the metal wings attached to the man’s back flings the device straight back towards the ship. 

With a strangled yell, Peter breaks free from the man’s grip and flings himself back towards the ship, before turning around midair and shooting a web at the man. The web sticks onto the tip of his left wing and Peter wastes no time yanking down as hard as he could, simultaneously boosting himself up and jerking him out of control. 

All this happens in a fraction of a second, and he still has time to adjust his trajectory to land neatly on the ship right as the device crashes onto the deck. Sans limped towards Peter. 

“ten seconds.” He warns. Peter reacts with a start. Desperately, he runs over and covers the thing with his webs, despite knowing for a fact it would be of no use. And sure enough, the beeping got louder and louder until…

Fwoosh! A shockwave releases as the weapon emits a massive laser, knocking Peter over and cutting through layers and layers of the ferry. 

Through the daze of hitting his head on the ground, Peter thinks wow! Thats a big knife. A glowy knife. It cuts so smoothly. And then he realizes. It cuts so smoothly! Right through the entirety of the ship! That's bad! 

He tries to stop it; it takes three tries to web it without it getting cut off, but there isn't much he can do, and before he knew it, the entire ship is cleaved in half, slowly falling apart. Frantically, Peter dashes around, using most of his web fluid he had in store to try to keep this ship together. 

He holds the two halves of the ship’s weight with both hands. It was like the world’s heaviest hercules hold, and Peter was left holding on with all his might, desperately hoping he wouldn’t just slip and fall. The ship is so heavy, it feels like Peter's arms are being simultaneously ripped apart. The pain is almost too much to bear, and his suit starts ripping at the seams.

Peter makes it about…four seconds before the weight of the ship eases off and he can breathe again. The entire ship is glowing blue, and shuddering as it slowly, inch by inch, pulls back together.

Chapter Text

Sans grits his teeth, sweat bead forming on his forehead in his strain to keep this stupid ship together. On a normal day, he could’ve done this no problem. A few tons of metal floating on water, sliced in half and threatening to collapse? He might’ve broken a sweat. And he isn't saying that in a boastful way, either. 

Now though? He’s always had abysmally terrible physical defense and health compared to other monsters. A price to pay for the abnormally massive amount of magical strength he has, he'd always thought. He'd never really thought much of it before, but now he finds himself cursing his frailness, as that one hit from the flying guy’s wings has drained him considerably. He also curses himself for not paying enough attention in the first place. 

Sans drops to his knees, arm shaking as he slowly closes his hand into a fist, causing the two halves of the ship to creak together along with it. As his hand shakes, the ship shudders and creaks; he knows he can't keep this up much longer. His ribs throb horribly, and at least one is badly sliced up. Healing himself will take much more energy than he can expend right now. 

Suddenly, the weight of the ship lifts, just a bit, as thumps sound from each side of the hull. Sans feels the parts of the ship slowly move back together, and checks the new devices out using this handy thing called "magic." (Insert jazz hands here.) They look like little thrusters, but they did much more work than anyone can imagine. About 14 of the little contraptions had stuck themselves to the hull and is pushing it back into one piece. 

His job done, Sans collapses onto the floor. Peter lands in a crouch behind him worriedly, but then glances up with a gasp. 

Sans also slowly raises his head—honestly, if you insert a door creaking sound as he did this, it will fit perfectly. A perfect opportunity missed. 

Anyways, he sees—you guessed it—Iron Man. Flyin’ through the air like he owns the place, then touching down as gracefully as a swan—if a swan is decked head to toe in metal. 

The suit opens by itself, and the dude himself steps out of the flying husk, looking pristine as ever. “Peter!” He cups his hands over his face to yell, walking towards the two with large, confident strides. In no time, he's made it over to the middle of the ship, near the large crack. 

“What did I tell you about going after the vulture dude!?” The closer Tony Stark gets, the faster he goes until he's basically running over, tie and tailcoat flying. “You could’ve died, kid!” His eyes widens as he sees Sans on his side behind Peter, skidding into a stop. “Kids.” He corrects himself. “Still! What the hell Peter! You dragged an innocent kid into danger? You already had enough going for you, you really had to stick him in the crossfire! Look at him, what’s wrong with him?”

"he’s right here y’know.” Sans mutters—mostly to himself—as he sits up from his side position on the floor. He's still slightly grumpy that he even got hit in the first place. Just look at his perfect record of not getting hit during a fight. Gone. 

Tony is staring at him. “Kid, why are you on the floor? The ferry was glowing blue earlier. Like a giant glowstick. I don’t think ships are supposed to do that.” He strokes his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Got any secret abilities that I should know about?” 

Peter leans in, mouth open as if about to say something, then seems to decide against it, jumping back. Seconds ticked past as Sans debates saying something. 

Tony raises an eyebrow. Taps his foot against the wooden deck. Checks his watch in a massive, exaggerated gesture. Taps his foot again. 

So it has been maybe fifteen seconds. This man is impatient.

…fine then. Maybe if he knows something, then he'd stop asking so many questions. 

Sans shrugs, which took much more energy than he thought it would. “yup.” He says as cheerfully as he can manage.

Tony waits some more. Sans doesn't elaborate. 

“Well what is it?” Tony questions irritably. Sans snaps his fingers and points towards a crumb of the deck that had fallen—completely for show, although his hand shakes as he does so. (Is crumb the right description?)

A horrible sounding shink! sounds as he snapped, and he winces. Blue light surrounds the piece of debris and it floats in the air. 

Tony’s eyebrows raises again—both this time—as he steps closer and inspects the chunk. He waves his hand under it, as if expecting to cut off the connection or something. Whatever. He can think what he wants. 

Sans just wants to teleport out and heal up, but with this dude here he can’t really do anything. Even with that issue, he puts some green magic against the cut inconspicuously and it started healing. Barely. 

He feels something prod the floaty bit of deck that he had honestly forgotten about, and sees Tony grab the thing and let go, to find it still floating. Sans drops the blue magic and the thingie falls to the deck with a clunk. “So anyways.” Peter says, dropping down from wherever he was hanging.

“so.” Sans echoes. “imma just leave now, if that’s okay with you. cya.” 

“Hey wait!” Tony called as Sans strides down to the dock, pain clouding every step but hiding it pretty well, if he does say so himself. “I have questions!” 

Sans doesn't answer. As soon as he turns out of sight, he opens a shortcut to the conveniently placed apartment that he basically got for free for existing in the right place. It had been a while since he had visited. 

There's always a big pull of magic here. He had heard from that person, the ancient whatchamacallit, that there was a sorcerer place thingie there. Might as well check it out. 

He strolls the city, until he found this rickety old door that had a bunch of magic emanating from it. He knocks. 

Just his luck, the dude that was interrogating him in the prison cell pokes his head out, scowled, and slams the door in Sans’ face. Too bad for him there's another way in, for him at least. He pops out around the corner right as the guy is probably about to turn. Frowny face does indeed turn, then stops dead in his tracks as he sees Sans casually leaning against the wall. “How?” He demands, reaching for his staff. It shakes open, glowing a soft orangey-red. “What are you!?” 

“whoa, chill. just took a shortcut.” Sans consoles, raising his hands up in surrender. Frowny—as his nickname suggests—frowns deeper. Not that he had stopped frowning since he's seen Sans. He does not put the staff away. 

He grunts and turns to march down the hallway, beckoning Sans to follow him. He does, and Frowny leads him to a big door at the end. “Do what you want. Not my business to know.” 

Sans grins and salutes as he opens the door and slips inside. Despite saying that it isn't his business to know, Frowny follows him to the courtyard anyway. Sans plops down on a bench and watches the people do various levels of orange magic sigil things. They're all doing the same fancy moves, but some of their fancy magic are faded, or incomplete, or sparking. There are clearly some people that are experienced, and they make their orange magic thingies nice and bright; full of magic. 

Even without experience, Sans can sense some nice magic energy within some of the failing ones, some even more powerful than the experienced ones. Especially one at the end. He's the only dude with absolutely no glowy orange things coming out of his hands, but his magic aura—not that he wants to sound like those crappy old fortune tellers but he doesn't have another word for it—is stronger than them all. 

CHECK

Dr. Stephen Strange

HP: 120

AT: 178

DF: 78

EXP: 0

LV: 0

*been in a major accident; here to heal his broken hands”

Sans frowns. The AT is extremely good for someone with 0 exp at all, but his defense stats are only a little bit higher than normal. Weird. Normally, elevated stats go together. Evens them out. 

The guy is sweating, probably concentrating hard, but nothing's happening. The instructor frowns as he walks past and stops to talk to him. Frowny 2.0’s expression darkens as the conversation goes on, and aggressively does the movements again to no avail. 

The instructor appears to sigh, puts his hand on his forehead in defeat, and leaves. Wonderful. 

Anyway, he’s been here watching the people do the exact same thing for the better part of an hour, and he’s bored. Sans stands up, shoots another look at the students, and leaves, taking a tactical shortcut as he wraps around a massive pillar to avoid anyone seeing.

An hour of getting lost in the massive area later, Sans shuffles through some slightly more impressive looking doors than usual to find himself in an expansive library. Rows and rows of shelves line the walls, each filled with shelves thick books, some the size of his hand stretched completely out. It's impressive, to say the least. At the back of the room had a bunch of display cases with items lying inside, and in the center is a single pedestal with some kind of circular container on it. Random—probably not random but Sans is just gonna call it random—runes or some kind of unfamiliar language or inscriptions lines the edges, leading all the way to the floor. 

Wow. Books. Wonderful. Sans walks through the massive room until he finds the tiniest nook he can hide in for the night, ‘cause sitting in a place full of cool books sounds much better than sitting in a dingy apartment, no matter how nice that person was to give(lend?) it to him. 

Some hours later, he wakes up with a start. Somehow, he had dozed off without realizing, but he's alerted to the soft shuffle of feet that comes from the entrance of the library. He rushes to cloak himself in some magic, to help turn eyes away from his little cranny, as he's pretty well hidden already. 

Confident in his magic work, he dares to poke his head out to take a look at whoever's here at this hour. It's that Strange character (see what he did there?), softly padding his way to the very back of the library that's marked—of which is basically a cliché at this point—”Restricted Section.” 

Honestly the amount of main characters in media that get in trouble for going in these very obvious places like this is hard to count. 

A few minutes later, Strange shuffles back into this room, heading straight for the podium in the middle of the room. He places his hands on it, concentrating, but his back is turned to Sans. Whatever he's doing, it seems to unlock the sphere on top and it slides open with a quiet grinding noise. 

Strange reaches in with both hands, gently lifting something that clatters like it's on a chain. Whatever it is, it starts glowing green as he holds it, light pulsing gently and spreading throughout the dark library.

Chapter Text

Sans watches carefully as Strange slowly puts the necklace on, holding it gingerly with one hand as if it's going to explode. Which isn't out of the question, considering how much Sans knows about the magic here. 

Something about that necklace though…

Whatever it is, Sans had a feeling it isn't good. The gentle, pulsing ancient feeling magic coming off of it feels…familiar, in a way. Like a word forgotten at the tip of a tongue, the memory is there, but not. Which is frustrating, considering that it can tell him valuable information on what that thing is. 

A gasp brings his gaze to a nearby table, where Strange had migrated with his fancy new necklace. What's he so surprised at, you ask? 

An apple. Just a normal apple. Problem was, Sans is pretty sure he'd seen that desk earlier, with an apple core on it, no flesh to be seen. 

Strange has his arms out with green magic circles floating around his hands, and as he slowly turns the hand in front, the apple shrinks, as if going back in time, reverting to its previous position as an apple core. 

Sans feels that strange tug on his soul again. Like a sense of wrongness. Looking back in his memories, he realizes where he knows that feeling from. His sentry station, back in the underground, moments before that child appears. 

Turning back time. Dangerous magic. 

He knows from experience that this kind of magic is powerful, and it can warp the users drastically. Just look at what had happened to a certain human child.

Sans needs to make sure that won't happen to this world too. 

“Hey!” A loud voice barks from the entrance of the library. “What are you doing? ” The mysterious person stomps closer. Suddenly, the footsteps stops. “Is that the Eye of Agamotto?” He asked, surprise written all over his tone.

“Is that what this thing is called?” Strange answers wryly, without even turning around. The mysterious person grunts and steps closer. 

“Only the most powerful artifact in this entire damn place.” The man mutters. “How are you using it? You’ve only been here a few days—you can barely use the sling ring for gods’ sake!” 

Strange huffs. “Eidetic memory. Was how I earned my several phDs in under four years.” He adds proudly (or arrogantly, take your pick.) The apple continues to change from a core to a whole throughout this whole conversation. 

“Eidetic memory—even with that, you need practice and skill to do stuff like this! You—you can’t just remember how to do it and do it perfectly!” 

Strange finally looks up, one eyebrow raised judgmentally as the apple withers under the magic necklace. The other man visibly deflates. “You know what?” He grumbles. “If you blow yourself up, it’s not my problem.” He starts walking off to a back room.

Strange watches him go off. “Well aren’t you just cheery?” He calls. 

The door shuts. 

Strange sighs and shakes his head, but when he turns, Sans can see him smiling. 

Now what is a sling ring?

Sans gets his answer when he steps out onto the courtyard. The people are wearing weird looking rings that goes around two fingers instead of one. Just like a certain “Ancient One” when they had first met. 

As the coach demonstrates the ring’s abilities, Sans feels a ripple in the fabric of reality as a glowing, spinning portal appears, floating in midair. 

Strange chooses this moment to walk outside as Sans is distracted. He barrels straight into Sans, knocking him on the ground. The man stumbles back, then straightens himself out, eyeing Sans up and down as he does so. “I wasn’t aware children were allowed in this place.” He muses, almost to himself. 

“heya.” Sans says, grinning. He dusts himself off and stands up. “shouldn’t you be lookin’ where you’re going?” 

Surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting Sans to actually say anything, Strange nods. “I was a bit…distracted,” he replies stiffly, and holds out a hand. “I’m Dr. Strange.” 

“sans.” 

“My apologies for earlier, but I have to get going.” Dr. Strange shakes Sans’ outstretched hand with his shaky own and marches to the courtyard, where he goes to go talk to the coach. What a Strange man.

Heh. 

Strange doesn't know what to make of that kid that he had walked into. Several hours after that interaction, he still finds himself thinking about him. 

First of all, his hair is white. In all his years of working in hospitals, he has never heard of someone with natural born white hair. The kid couldn’t have dyed it, because there were no roots showing at all. Also, his eyebrows were white too. No one bothers dyeing their eyebrows. He doesn't really know how this logic works but—it's not dyed, he's sure of it.

Second, although it was hard to explain, there's just something off about that kid. He should know—he’s worked in the medical field for most of his life. He can tell when there’s something wrong with a person. Usually. Unfortunately, he has no clue if there is even anything wrong.  

The kid is just weird. Not that there's anything bad about that—or maybe there is? God, he’s driving himself crazy thinking about this. 

Still—what kind of name is Sans?

He sighs and rubs his temple with a finger. It's no use getting a headache over this. Strange picks up his books and walks out of the library, head held high.

“—pages—” 

He screeches to a halt. Quickly, he puts his books down and tiptoes up to the door he had just passed. Voices murmur inside, and he recognizes Mondo, the angry guy with the staff that he has run into several times.

There's another higher voice that he was talking to, but Strange doesn't recognize it. 

“Yes, but that boy.” Mondo insists. “What does he have to do with this?” 

“I sense something with him. He has potential.”

“Stop it with this ‘potential’ crap! You’ve said this kind of thing with so many people—with–with him and now some random kid? You can’t be finding potential in every single random person you come across!” 

A sigh. “Mordo, you know what happened. We need potential right now.”

“Yeah, but—” Strange hears Mordo grumble, then slam his hands on a table. “Whatever. I’ll go find him.” 

The door flies open and Strange has to stumble back to avoid being hit. Mordo turns around. “ You. ” He scowls and Strange braces himself for…whatever. A lecture or something. Instead, Mordo just grabs his sleeve and whips him into the room. 

“Guess who!” He yells as he storms off. 

“Stephen.” Strange turns around to find the Ancient One watching him with a small smile on their face. A knowing smile. “Please, take a seat.” 

“Uh.” Strange points back outside. “My books—” 

“No need.” The Ancient One waves a hand to the direction of the hallway and the books fly into his arms. 

Strange nods his thanks and places the books down on the table beside the chair, then sits down himself. The Ancient One says nothing, just places their hands on their lap and waits. 

A few minutes later, Strange hears footsteps slowly growing louder. 

“come on. why are you being so down in the dumps? weather outside get to ya?” 

Strange glances out the window. It's sunny. 

“you seem like a stormy kind of guy anyways.” The voice continues. He hears Mordo grumble as he opens the door. 

“Not worth my energy.” He mutters. The kid he had met earlier today strolls in, hands in his pockets and looking like he has no care in the world. 

“sup?” 

“Sans.” The Ancient One greets. “Have you two met?” 

Sans offers Strange a salute. “a day ago. kinda ran into each other—literally.” He plops down on a chair. “although you" he points at Strange, "were doing most of the ‘running into.’” 

Strange doesn't smile back. “What are we here for?” 

“Oh, I just wanted you two to get acquainted with each other.” The Ancient One rises and walks to the door, their smile turning wry. “I just have a feeling this was the right thing to do.” 

Both of them stares at the Ancient One as they walks out, closing the door firmly behind them.

“What the hell?” Strange demands. “What—are they prophetic or something?”

“well, since we’ve already been ‘acquainted,’ ima just leave ya here, okay?” Sans hops off his chair and with a grin, he winks and swings into what looks like a closet. Strange rushes to follow him, but when he turned the corner, Sans is gone. 

What is this kid?

Chapter Text

Metal clinks against each other as Tony’s latest suit opens, giving him an easy path to get out. His mind whirls as he walks into his home. Opening the door, he's greeted by the sight of his—wife? girlfriend? should've been married a really long time ago but didn't because he was too busy saving the world and stuff?—curled up on the couch—or should he say, one of the couches—reading. 

“We have a problem.” He announces. 

Pepper looks up with a wry smile on her face. “A ‘problem—’” she puts this in air quotes “—problem, or an actual problem? Cause the last time—” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t need to remind me.” Tony grumbles. “So there’s this kid—”

Pepper’s eyes light up. “Oh, Peter! You told me about him last week! How’s he doing?” 

“Well, yes. He’s doing…alright.” He stops in his tracks. “Do you really think I’m that forgetful?” 

“Remember that time when you left the burner on for days and when we came back from that trip—” 

“Alright I get it!” Tony interrupts, rubbing his forehead to clear the sudden headache that's forming. Man, do kids take a lot of energy to handle, with the Parker situation and all. And with another one popping up out of nowhere…

“There’s another kid,” he begins, silently daring Pepper to interrupt him again. She doesn't, but it's clear with the mirth in her eyes that it's extremely tempting. “White hair, blue hoodie, magic, you know.” 

“I’ve heard reports from New York that there was an accident involving someone saving a man and a store,” Pepper says thoughtfully. “The savior was thought to be wearing blue.” She leans forwards. “Magic, huh? What can he do?” 

“That thing Wanda does. Telekinesis or something. Doesn’t look like it’s very strong, or developed, but then again he was just thrown against a wall so that doesn’t account for much.” Pepper gasps at this, placing her hand against her mouth. “Kinda just appeared one day,” Tony continues, “and by that I mean I haven’t seen him before. Not like I know all his friends or something.” 

He sits down with a huff on the couch, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the coffee table. “Jarvis, what data do we have on…?” He frowns. “What was his name? Sans.” 

“Of Course.” Jarvis replies.

A hologram appears, floating above the table in front of them. On it is…basically nothing. There are two pictures, taken maybe a few minutes apart from each other. One when Tony was pulling the boat back together, and the other when Sans was doing magic stuff. That's it. 

“Impressive.” Pepper deadpans.

“Still working on it.” Tony mutters. 

Pepper hums thoughtfully. “Maybe we can contact Wanda about this. Let’s just hope she doesn’t hold a grudge.”

“So.” Peter watches Sans carefully after he returned from…wherever the hell he had gone. It's been a day, and he still isn't sure the skeleton is back to full health. Because usually when you nearly get sliced in half by giant metal wings, you usually aren’t up and walking within a day. (He's exaggerating, of course. Maybe.) 

“i’m fine, peter. doing great.” Sans gives him a wide grin from his position on Peter’s carpet. “one could say i’m—” 

“Yeah. I get it.” Peter interrupts before the jokes came. 

“well. if you want to ruin the mood.” Sans shrugs and leans against the wall. “better make sure the rest of you doesn’t crumble the same way.” 

Peter groans—but then the rest of his head catches on with the joke. “Wait, what do you mean by that?” 

Sans shrugs. “just sayin’, a building is much more useful intact than in ruins.” He doesn't elaborate further. 

Strange. 

“i mean, its like blaming a tornado for an earthquake’s destruction. it’s not its fault, if you get what i mean.” Sans adds. 

Double strange. What's he talking about? It seems like it has a bit more meaning than him just saying random things for the sake of punning some more.

The door rings before Peter is able to give this more thought. “That would be Ned.” He says, rushing to the door. 

“Hey.” The door opens to reveal the grinning face of Ned, holding a backpack. “Is Sans coming with us?” He adds as he steps through the door, spotting Sans lurking in the background. 

“If he wants to.” Peter turns to find Sans standing right behind him. “You wanna come to the mall with us?” 

“We’re looking for certain parts that we may or may not pay for.” Ned mentions slyly.

Peter smacks him. “Ned! That’s not what we’re doing!” 

“What? We do need parts for your project thing.” 

“Yes, but we should probably pay for them.” Peter turns to put his shoes on. “Probably.” He hops outside, yanking his other shoe haphazardly on his foot. Sans follows him, watching with amusement as Peter nearly trips from his undone shoelace. Ned rolls his eyes as Peter trips a second time, and forges on ahead. Sans eyes the shoes, then shrugged, seemingly to himself, although the undone shoelaces quickly do themselves up. 

“Thanks.” Peter says as he sprints to catch up with the two. 

“can’t have you trippin’ over any clams. you might pull a mussel," Sans remarks idly. Peter grins at the stupid joke. 

“We’re here.” Ned announces as they turn a corner, the massive skyscraper of a mall looming before them. “Where do you usually go first, Peter?” 

Peter points. “There’s a thrift store at the corner over there.” He had used to always go there to look for spare parts. The store has a nice collection of scrap metal, which was nice for when he's too broke to get actual good parts—which is most of the time. 

“thrift store, huh?” Sans looks at the building with interest. “like a dump, but people pay to get stuff?” 

“Pretty much.” Ned agrees. “Why?” 

Sans grins, but he looks nostalgic. “my friend loved finding parts for her machines at a dump. we first met when i was charging her for taking things—as a joke.” 

“Did she pay?” Peter asks. What a strange place to meet new friends, a dump. 

“of course not.” 

Ned snorts. “Should’ve expected that answer.” 

Sans nods. There's a strange look in his eyes, as if he's looking somewhere distant. He blinks and the look is gone. Peter decides not to pry. 

He starts walking. “Should we go in?” 

“Way ahead of you.” Ned jogs to catch up. When they turn the corner, they found Sans standing there, holding the door open. 

“after you,” he said. Peter gives him a goofy salute as he strides in. The two immediately heads to the back of the store, where all the good stuff (and by that, he means the metal stuff) is. Ned is immediately drawn to the computer parts, while Peter has something a bit more delicate in mind. In a small drawer is a pile of circuit boards, obviously ripped from old pc’s and tech and donated here.  

They don’t usually work that well, but Peter has a knack for figuring them out. 

“would ya look at that.” Sans observes from where he stands near a pile of instruments. He gently lifts a dented, silver trombone.

“You play the trombone?” Ned asks curiously from where he pokes his head around the shelves. 

Sans grins and shrugs. “somethin’ like that.” He lifts the trombone to his mouth. 

BLAP! 

The instrument clearly is in bad shape. Either that, or Sans just doesn't know how to play the thing. Come to think of it, does the glamour thing that Sans just randomly magically did tangible? Cause if it isn't, how can he play the thing with no lips? 

Sans has a funny smile as he looks at the busted trombone, and lifts it up for the other two to see. “a weapon of brass destruction, huh?” For effect, he plays it again. The loud, out of tune sound echoes around the room noisily. 

Peter leaves Sans to do whatever he's going to do to go pay. He picks up a set of wires on his way to the front desk and slaps his prizes and a bunch of money on the desk. The unimpressed clerk at the checkout picks up the wad of cash and starts counting, slowly. 

Tapping his feet as he impatiently waits for the cashier to finish, Peter suddenly sees a flash of silver. Sans emerges, with Ned following close behind, holding the trombone. Except, where the slide of the thing was dented so hard that the airway was basically closed off, was back to pristine and clean. Peter can only assume it was Sans doing some magic stuff to fix it. 

“hey, it doesn’t sound too bad now.” Sans hefts the thing with one hand. He plays a series of completely random notes and shrugs. “stay tuned for more amazing music, coming right this way.” He takes a short bow, then drops the trombone on a nearby shelf with a wide, amused smile. 

The two buying people pay for their items and the three of them steps out into the massive, bustling mall. 

“Where should we go now?” Peter asks, casually toying with his new wires. Ned glances up at some signs as they pass. 

“What about the food court?” 

Peter laughs. “You’re always hungry! I was thinking more along the lines of more parts.”

“well,” Sans grins and stepped forwards. “i could go for some food right now.” 

“Yeah! Listen to Sans!” Ned exclaims and starts walking towards where the sign directed them. 

Peter laughed again, and runs to catch up with Ned.

Chapter Text

It has been several hours since the trip to the mall, and the three of them are at Peter’s house playing monopoly. Ned is winning…maybe. Sans isn’t paying much attention, as since the trip to the mall, he couldn’t stop thinking about the Underground. His old life. He’s been in this world for weeks now, and there is an undeniable feeling of homesickness. 

He misses Papyrus. The monsters of Snowdin; Grillby; Alphys; he had tried to use his shortcuts to see if he could at least look at what the Underground was like now, but it was no use. His magic keeps hitting a wall, and whatever he tries to do, it won't go through. 

He hopes they are happy at least, without him. 

“Tennessee! Hah! Ned, hand it over.” Peter cheers, holding out a hand expectantly. Ned grumbles, then fishes out some bills and slaps it in Peter’s waiting grasp. Peter, flashing a triumphant grin, rolls his dice and moves into a square. “Your turn Sans.” 

Sans puts on a lax grin and picks up the dice. The dice clacks against the hard wooden board and he moves his piece accordingly. “i’ll buy this,” he says, absentmindedly dropping some money into the growing pile in the middle. 

Suddenly, there is a quiet buzzing of a phone, and Peter glances up quickly. “Sans, can you grab that?” 

Sans shrugs and flicks a finger, causing the phone to fly towards Peter. 

He catches it deftly and leaves the room to take the call. Which leaves Ned and Sans staring awkwardly at each other, unable to continue the game without Peter. 

“So.” Ned says, fiddling with a hotel piece. “Uh—I hope you don’t mind me asking—magic, huh?” 

“not much of a question.” Sans answers. He grins, bemused, leaning back against the bed-post. “if you want answers, you better use your im- magic -nation. do i have to spell it out for you?” 

Ned gives him an eye roll as he goes to set his hotel back on the board. “I didn’t know what else to ask.” 

“yup. magic.” Sans does jazz hands. 

The door slams open as Peter runs in excitedly. “I just got a tip that there’s gonna be an illegal sale in a few hours. We should go check it out.” 

Ned frowns. “An illegal sale? That could be anything. There’s no guarantee that the vulture dude is gonna be there.” 

“a tip? who’s giving you tips?” Sans asks at nearly the exact same time. They stare at each other, then both turn their gazes up to Peter, who suddenly looks very uncomfortable. 

“A tip,” he echoes what Sans had said a few seconds ago. “A tip, from…I don’t know, actually. They just had my number, and told me that there was a weapons sale on the east side of Queens in 4 hours.” 

He raises his phone up to squint at the number. 

“well, no harm in checking it out, i guess. unless you aren’t buying what they said?” Sans raises his head to look at the phone. He opens his hand, palm facing upwards and Peter’s phone appears, dropping down into Sans’ grasp. 

Do his fingers even work on the screen? Sure, they might work with the phone that he…borrowed, but that was because he had tweaked it. Making a phone respond to a magical signature instead of a finger was surprisingly easy after he’s seen Alphys do it so many times, but he had never actually thought to test whether it works or not before. He had just opened the thing up and fiddled with the circuit boards until it worked. 

He taps the screen curiously, and sure enough, nothing happens. The glamour just isn’t physical enough it seems. Turning the phone around, Sans, without looking up, asks, “do you mind if i…?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he summons a tiny, sharpened bone and pries the two halves of the phone apart. He hears a tiny, surprised squeak from either Ned or Peter as he basically rips the thing in half. Setting one half of the phone on the ground, he moves a few of the wires, basically doing the exact same thing that he did to his phone. To finish it off, he merges some of his magic within the screen.

Placing the top half of the phone back on, Sans sends a swirl of green magic to fix it back up without having to do it manually and turns it on. 

“What did you just do?” Peter demands, finally moving from his spot at the door to see if his phone still works. Sans swipes to the contacts list, to the last called number, memorizing it quickly before handing the phone back to Peter. 

“let’s just say you won’t have to worry about wifi anymore.” Sans watches as Peter gapes at the screen, obviously surprised at what he sees. 

He types in a few things, then blinks as the results load in less than a second. “It was that easy!? ” Ned exclaims, grabbing the phone for himself to test it. 

Sans grinned. “sometimes the simplest things are the solutions to the most complicated problems. you don’t got many contacts though. got no body to talk to?” 

“You could say that.” Peter mutters, snorting a bit at the pun; or really it’s just an inside joke since Ned didn’t know about the whole skeleton thing.

May chose this time to walk in to inform them that Ned has to leave. 

Ned jumps up from where he was sitting at the bed, calling out a goodbye before heading out. 

“guess i’ll leave too.” Sans offers a salute before stepping backwards, watching as Peter cries “Hey wait!” as an attempt to—at least he assumes so—get him to explain the phone. However, the moment his foot touches the ground, Sans watches as the scenery abruptly changes. The cool evening breeze hits him as he plops himself down right where he stood, at the edge of a cliff looking off into the distance.

The sun is setting, casting a bright glow over the valley beneath him. Sunlight sparkles as it bounces off the reflective surfaces of the water in a lake, surrounded by tall trees and framed by a far reaching mountain range. It’s nice, but Sans has some business to attend to. 

…Which, being as lazy as he is, is a rare thing to say. 

He dials in the number, and sets it on speaker mode on the ground as he leans backwards, landing on his back. Looking up at the sky as the sun finally made its way into the ground—metaphorically, of course, as he’s quickly learned that the earth rotating is what causes sunsets—is an incredible experience. 

Having spent all his life underground—besides those short times he’s been on the surface before the child inevitably reset again— the real stars are quite a sight to see. 

Right now, he can barely make out constellations from where the night sky is the darkest. 

“Hello?” An irritated voice came from the phone. 

“heya.” Sans answers, sitting up and picking the phone up from the ground. “you’re the one that gave spidey some directions, right?” 

“Who are you?” The voice demands. 

Sans chuckles. “straight to the point, huh? chill, buddy. i just want to know how you got this number.” 

“Well I just want to know how you got this number.” The voice retorts. “Answer my question. Who are you?” 

Sans pauses for a second. He recognizes this voice, but from where? From school, maybe. He grins, although the caller can’t see him. “i’m…an accomplice, you could say. a friend.”

The caller is silent for a few moments. “A friend.” They don’t sound like they believe him. “Of P—” He hears them stumble over their words. “I mean Spider Man.” 

“right.” Sans smirks. “so, i’ve answered your question. wanna trade answers? you gotta answer mine now.” 

“I’m what you said. An accomplice. How I got this number? Through…less than legal means.” 

He decides to ignore that last part and raises a brow. “really? I’m under the impression that spidey here doesn’t even know who you are.” 

“And I don’t plan on him knowing anyways.” The voice grumbles. 

A pause. “i won’t tell him.” 

He has the impression that the mysterious person is regarding him suspiciously. “Really.” 

It isn’t a question. 

Sans shrugs. “why not? leave it a mystery. as far as I know spidey trusts you anyways. i keep herring about this mysterious ‘information broker.’” 

He can hear the faintest sigh coming from the speaker, then something thumps on the other side. “MJ.” The person—MJ apparently, mutters. 

“nice to meet’cha. the name’s sans.” His grin widens. 

“Sans.” MJ muses. “I know that name…” They don’t elaborate on that thought. 

He reaches for the phone. “welp, nice chat. gotta go.” 

The voice hums thoughtfully. “Bye, I guess.” 

The call ends.

Now that the sun has set below the horizon, the stars are a lot easier to make out. Sans can see Cygnus slowly soaring by. There’s Ursa Major—connected to the Big Dipper; Ursa Minor trailing close behind as they circle around the North Star. He watches as Sagittarius aims its bow at Scorpius; as Cassipeia looks on the world with a haughty gaze; as Orion hunts Lepus, the rabbit. 

Behind Orion, two dogs playfully circle their master. Canis major and Canis minor, they’re called—in english: Greater dog and Lesser dog. What a strange coincidence, and a nice reminder of his old life in the Underground. 

He doesn’t know why, but seeing those two dogs is comforting. Something…familiar, even when the rest of the world is not. And even when the world is changing—as far as he knew—stars do not. They stay where they belong until it's time for them to go. 

…

He’s just rambling at this point. 

Welp. Sans stands up and dusts himself off. It’s time for him to go now.

Somewhere, on the other side of the world, someone else is also looking at the stars. She traces the shapes with her finger as the sun slowly rises, bathing the world in a brilliant light.

Chapter Text

The only thing you remember is pain. When you finally come to, the scent of golden flowers overwhelms you. You lay there for a moment, eyes closed, hoping to clear your strangely throbbing head. 

…How do you know the flowers are golden? 

You open their eyes. You fell down the mountain, didn’t you? You can see the massive hole above them, sunlight shining down onto your bed of flowers. 

You were right. The flowers are a beautiful, shining yellow. Strangely, you know for a fact that these are important. And that they taste good. 

You are tempted to give them a try, but ultimately decide against it. 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you wince as your body aches horribly. It's a wonder that you had even survived the fall in the first place. Looking around, you see that you’re in a cavern, and there’s a door at one side. 

Seeing no other way to go, you start towards it. 

Frisk?

Suddenly you stop. There’s a voice inside your head. You answer hesitantly. Hello?

Frisk! The voice exclaims. It’s Chara!

Suddenly, you remember something. A rusty—but still sharp—knife slashing down with the intent to kill. 

A flash of red. A scarf, torn and tattered, fluttering in the cold, white snow.

Dust.  

Death. 

You shake their head, trying to clear it. Where did those memories come from? 

Who are you? You demand, furiously racking your brain for any inkling of a memory. The name is familiar, but you can’t seem to place it. 

A heavy sigh sounds in your head. I can’t believe you forgot. The voice—Chara complains. Why didn’t I? They muse, seemingly to themselves. Does the name ‘Sans’ mean anything to you?

Sans…

A flash of a headache appears as you try to remember. 

Ugh, whatever. Chara goes silent. You decide to ignore this for now and march on. On the other side of the doorway, it’s dark. In the center of the room sits a patch of grass with a single flower growing on it. 

Suddenly, it moves. A face forms in the center, turning into a demonic looking smile. “Hey there, best friend!” It calls with a bright, chipper voice that does not fit the expression it's making.

“Flowey?” You ask before freezing. Where did that name come from? 

“So you do remember.” The flower observes with an evil grin. You slowly shake your head. No, you don’t remember, but at the same time, you do.

Its expression drops. Without another word, it buries into the ground and disappears. 

You continue on, mind whirling at what that strange creature was talking about. Do you know it? Before you can continue that train of thought, another creature comes through the door, stopping when it sees you in surprise. 

It looks like a…bipedal goat. Wearing a purple dress. Its face crinkles into what you can only assume is a smile. “My child. You’ve fallen down, have you not?” 

You nod as it—she walks toward you. “My name is Toriel, caretaker of the ruins.” She introduces herself. Strangely, Toriel's presence puts you at ease. “Come, child, and I will guide you through the catacombs.” 

You smile back and follow along happily. The goat monster guides you through the door, revealing a hallway made of purple brick. You listen as Toriel explains her way through the various puzzles, giving you gentle praise as you successfully do each one. You learn how to resolve battles. You walk with her, hand in hand as she guides you through a spike trap. You chase her through a long hallway, only to find her hiding behind a pillar.

She leaves you, telling you to be a good child and to stay put, to wait. She gives you your very own phone, which you tuck into your inventory fondly, and she promises to come back for you. So you wait. …For about 5 minutes.

You leave. Traversing the ruins alone is much different than when you had a guide. You find a bowl of candy with the sign “take one” hung on it. You take two to be mischievous.

Solving the puzzles as if you’ve done them many, many times before, despite not knowing how, you stumble across the ruins until you find a quaint house hiding amongst the bricks. 

Toriel, surprised that you came so quickly, leads you inside. 

You touch a SAVE. 

You are filled with DETERMINATION. 

…

The memories hit you like a ton of bricks. You suddenly remember everything. Sans, how could you have forgotten about Sans? You remember your runs, your saves, your pacifism, your genocides.

How you’ve saved everyone, how you’ve killed everyone, it feels surreal. 

You fall to your knees and sob.  

Hey wait! A surprisingly panicked Chara suddenly makes themselves known. Wait! No! Don’t cry! It was my fault, you hear me? You did nothing wrong. 

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode with grief. How could you have let them kill so many people? Deaf to Chara’s pleas, you curl up on the ground, nightmare-inducing memories flashing through your head. Papyrus, how could you have done that to him…?

“My child!” Toriel’s horrified gasp comes from the door as you cry. She gathers you up in your arms and comforts you while Chara is in hysterics. 

Stop! They demand. Stop crying right now! You’re embarrassing yourself!

As if out of spite, you just cry harder. Squeezing your eyes shut with hands on your ears, you shut the world out. You push Chara’s distress further back into your mind and sob until you eventually drift off into sleep.

You wake up in a haze. Nothing feels real anymore, you slowly realize. Everything is numb and you feel like you’re watching your body move from a screen. 

Derealization, you think this is called. You’ve read this in a book once. It’s a trauma response, right? 

The haze fades as you register what’s actually going on. Chara’s the one in control. You’ve been shoved into the backseat, as they once were.

Oh, good. You’re awake. Comes Chara’s dry remark. It takes you a few tries to form words properly. 

What happened? You ask nervously. 

You hear Chara snort out loud. They’re sitting on a bed in that room that you’ve always slept in while in Home. DT happened, that’s what. Seems like you finally had enough to remember what was going on. While you were being a crybaby, Mo—Toriel brought you here to sleep. 

That sounds about right. May I have control back now, please? You ask warily and immediately feel the shift back. You curl and uncurl your hands, which tremble slightly.

There’s a slice of butterscotch pie on the floor, or what you like to call it, ButtsPie. You tuck it in your inventory for later and dare to venture out the door. Walking the familiar route to the living room, you see Toriel in her overstuffed chair, reading. 

You shuffle in, and Toriel’s head goes up at the sound of your feet. “My child! Are you feeling alright, dear?” 

You shake your head. Toriel’s gaze softens and she doesn’t press you for what’s bothering you, to which you are grateful. 

After enduring the battle with Toriel after you ask to leave the ruins, you open the door with a creak and shiver at the change in temperature. You pad down the long path to Snowdin, silently hoping that Sans will be here. 

You pass the branch. It doesn't break; doesn’t move or make a sound. You hear no footsteps as you approach Papyrus’ gate. There’s no ominous voice telling you to turn around. You pass through the sentry station without interruption, and is taken aback at the absence of the conveniently shaped lamp. Checking the back of the sentry station, you take one of the ketchup packages and tuck it in your pocket.

Can you hurry up? Chara complains.

No. You reply as you vehemently shake your head. A sigh echoes from the back of your mind. 

You save, take the piece of snowman with you at its request, check the dimensional box and put on the gloves you find inside. 

You’re determined to find Papyrus, as you need to explain everything. He deserves to know. 

Stumbling across where the electricity maze should be, you find it deactivated. All the puzzles are deactivated, and Sans’ lazy crossword isn’t even on the ground. 

Easier for us, Chara says. You ignore them.

Finally, you come across the bridge. You aren’t even surprised anymore to find no traps. You feel resigned as you walk across, gaze directed at the ground. 

This is how you walk into town, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts. Suddenly, you stop, having walked straight into someone. 

“HUMAN.” 

You look up sadly. Papyrus stands before you, gaze somber. You don’t recall having ever seen him this sad. Neither of you move. No one wants to breach the topic first. 

Finally, Papyrus stirs, kneeling down in front of you. 

“HUMAN.” He says again, voice quiet. “Where is Sans?” 

“Gone.” You tell him. It takes incredible self restraint not to burst out in tears, right there and then. 

You can tell Papyrus hesitates before cautiously asking something you’ve never expected him to say. “The resets?” 

WHAT? How does that numbskull know?

Your head whips up to stare at him, startled. A bit of the skeleton’s signature grin has come back onto his face as he brings his other hand from behind his back. You see a big stack of paper, one of which falls from the top into the snow. You snatch it before it gets damaged from water. 

Papyrus is not dumb! You scold Chara as you dust the snow off the paper.

Scanning the sheet, you see notes written neatly in Sans’ namesake font, although it gets more rushed as it goes down. ‘everything stops.’ It reads. ‘the data has been jumping around recently. it’s never stopped before. i have a bad feeling about this.’ 

You flip the page over. ‘deja-vu. that’s what it’s called, right? a sense that this has already happened? why does what's happening feel familiar?’ Further down, the script turns messy. ‘why does no one remember? why don’t i remember?’

At the bottom of the page has underlined words. Two of them. ‘Don’t Forget.’ You stare at those two words for a long time. 

“I FOUND THESE AT THE LAB IN THE BACK.” Papyrus stands up, dusting the snow off his bones. “WE SHOULD GO INSIDE, HUMAN. THIS FREEZING TEMPERATURE IS NOT GOOD FOR YOU.” 

You smile dully. Despite everything, Papyrus is still Papyrus. The caring, loving skeleton, always looking out for others. Even after what you’ve done, all the atrocities you committed—that he definitely knows by now from the notes—he still cares. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, before taking his outstretched hand and letting him lead you, even if you know the way already. 

Papyrus starts talking as you move your way over to his house. “I'VE ALWAYS HAD NIGHTMARES ABOUT THE…MURDERY YOU. BUT EVEN THEN, I BELIEVED IN YOU. AND LOOK AT YOU NOW! YOUR NOT DOING THE VIOLENCE ANYMORE, RIGHT?” He brightens a bit as he goes to open his door. “EVEN THOUGH I USUALLY DISAPPROVE OF GIVING UP, I'M GLAD YOU CHOSE TO DO SO, HUMAN!”

It’s so hard to not cry. You stifle your sob on your sleeve as Papyrus turns. “YOU MAY SLEEP ON THE COUCH IF YOU WISH, BUT YOU ALSO HAVE TO OPTION OF MY GREAT RACECAR BED, IF YOU EVER NEED TO DRIVE AWAY YOUR TROUBLES. NYEH HEH HEH!” 

You snicker at the pun. Sometimes, you forget that the skeleton is also an enjoyer of puns. The only reason he gets mad at Sans for them is because of his overly facetious attitude. Sans had always done it for the reactions anyway.

You wipe away the traitorous tears as they well up in your eyes with a sniff. “I’m so sorry, Papyrus.” Moving to sit on the couch, you see Papyrus do the same. 

“I UNDERSTAND. DO YOU WANT TO TALK? IT USUALLY HELPS.” He offers, smile growing as you nod gratefully. You take the notes that he gives you and skim a few of them. They range from what looks like diary entries to scientific calculations that make your head feel loopy after reading them. Setting them on the table, you take a deep breath. 

Papyrus holds out his hands and a tupperware container flies into them. Your eyes widen. You had completely forgotten that, like Sans’ teleporting, Papyrus also has a questionably “breaks the rules of the universe” ability. Having only seen it after your usual battle with him, you lean closer, curious. Papyrus just leaves the container on the table. “IF YOU EVER GET HUNGRY, HUMAN, PLEASE DELVE INTO MY MASTERFUL SPAGHETTI, WHICH WILL BE SURE TO LIFT YOUR SPIRITS!” 

Ew. Is the only comment that comes from Chara. You pick up one of the oldest sheets of paper, flipping it over. As always, those two same words are printed at the bottom. “I’ll tell you everything, Papyrus.” 

EVERYTHING? Chara demands. 

Yes. You tell them solemnly. You can tell they want to protest, but surprisingly keep it to themselves. Silently, you say that you are still mad for what they did and they simmer down guiltily. 

“Where do you want to start?” You ask after another breath. 

Papyrus hesitates for a second before saying, “The beginning.” 

Okay. You tell him about when you first fell down. You tell him how you had started hearing the voice in your head, and how it tried to get you to start killing. Your first run, you had gotten all the monsters to the surface. You were happy, for a while, before the voice comes back. It forces a reload, and take delight in killing every single monster you come across. You kill the entire underground. 

You reload each area, each save, over and over again, killing the monsters under the control of the voice. Even so, with how much determination you have, you fight back. The two of you have never gotten past Sans. He kills you over and over again, until you all stop counting. 

So, in spite of said determination, the demon resets. It is curious to see what happens if it picks off certain people at a time, each load. The first time is small, and a Snowdrake is the only unfortunate victim. Of course, because of how small the town of Snowdin is, and how observant a certain royal guard enthusiast is, his absence is noticed instantly. Panic ensues. 

Reload. This time, the royal guards are the only ones to go. You watch miserably as Undyne slowly sinks into despair. You never want to see her so hopeless again, but of course, the voice isn’t done.

Reload. Toriel is next. Undyne takes up the throne.

Reload. Papyrus dies. You start to lose hope. If he is the one to go, who knows what lengths the demon will go to see what happens? You blame yourself for not doing anything.

Reload. Sans is the only one left. He does nothing. You suspect that he knows and has given up. Seeing his desolate state, you are filled with DETERMINATION. Too bad it does nothing. The demon’s grip on you is strong, but you vow not to give up. Not to end up like Sans, and to find a way to save your friends. Although, can you even call yourself their friend anymore…?

Reload. Genocide. Sans acts outside of the usual script. You end up in the void and are knocked unconscious. 

You force Chara into the front seat to make them tell Papyrus—along with you, considering you were knocked out during this—about the events that happened in the void. They recount how Sans had taken creative liberties to get them out of you; how he brought your body back into this timeline and how he had disappeared himself. 

“I half expected Sans to just come back here, but he’s gone now.” Chara says, gaze down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. They are too scared to look Papyrus in the eye-sockets and you understand them completely. “Took me a while to figure out how to get out too, but here I am now. I know I don’t deserve any sympathy but—” They stop themselves. Barely hiding a tremor in their voice, they continue. “I’m a monster. The human version of it. And that isn’t the worst thing to call me but I can’t think of anything else. I’m the worst. I committed so many sins that God will have to make a specially terrible hell for me. And I don’t think that would be enough to condone what I have done either.” 

They sniffle. “I spent a lot of the time in that void.” Chara admits. “Thinking about what I did. I mean, I did spend most of the time trying to get out, but the thinking part happened anyway.” 

Papyrus looks like he wants to cry too. He suddenly jumps up. “THAT'S ENOUGH SADNESS FOR NOW, I THINK! ANY MORE AND I WILL NOT BE OKAY. SO!” He turns and grins at you, back in the front seat of the body.

“LET'S FOCUS ON THE THINGS WE CAN FIX. LIKE GETTING MY BROTHER BACK!” He marches up the stairs, heading straight towards Sans’ room. 

You hear a sniff at the back of your mind. But, what if we can’t get him back? Chara asks tearfully. 

You consider this. Let’s…hope we can. You conclude. As you walk up the stairs, you add, for Papyrus’ sake, if not anything else. Chara is silent, but they send a sense of foreboding down your…mental bond thing. You shiver and run to catch up to Papyrus, who is waiting impatiently by the door. 

“I HAVE TO WARN YOU.” He, well, warns. “MY BROTHER'S ROOM IS VERY MESSY. I'VE BEEN TELLING HIM TO CLEAN UP BUT HE IS EXTREMELY LAZY. AND, HE DOESN'T, OBVIOUSLY.” 

You only half listen to his warning, noting the fact that the strange fire under the door has disappeared. The door creaks as the skeleton pushes it open, to find…basically nothing. There’s a pile of random garbage in a corner, a mattress in the corner and a singular sock, presumably the pair to the one downstairs. 

Papyrus marches straight to the nightstand somewhere near the mattress on the floor, fishing out a key. He then throws open the door on the wall to reveal the balcony and leaps down from it. You follow him, but hesitate at the railings. 

What, does he really expect us to follow him? You raise an eyebrow at the offending skeleton. Chara continues. Because the answer’s yes!  

You yelp as they seize control of your body and dive off the balcony. You hear a surprised “NYEH!?” as Papyrus hurries to catch you before you land face first in the snow. Instead, you land face first in his arms. 

He rights you on your feet, looking at you with a slightly dumbfounded expression. “HUMAN! I WAS ABOUT TO GRACIOUSLY WHEN I SAW YOU BRAVELY JUMP OFF YOURSELF! FRET NOT, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL ALWAYS CATCH YOU, EVEN IF IT'S IN ENTIRELY UNECESSARY SITUATIONS.” He adds, with a side eye directed at you. 

Awh, Chara pouts. And I had it too. You giggle at the former demon, and Papyrus starts grinning more as a result. He marches towards the hidden door at the back and leaves you having to run to catch up with his long strides. 

Opening the door, you are excited to find…nothing once again. Well, not nothing, but not much either. A very small room, with a thing draped in a tarp and a blueprint on the counter. Not much at all, unless the thing under the cloth can prove useful. Before you can lift it up and see what’s under it though, you startle as you hear loud pounding at the front of the house. 

Papyrus scoops you up and seemingly runs up the air, back into Sans’ room and sprints down the stairs, a second too late. 

“NGAAAAH!” A yell penetrates the air. Both you and Papyrus slump with relief. It’s just Undyne. 

Oh. It’s Undyne. 

The door blows off the doorframe in one big slam, and the fish monster flies in, landing on the floor hard enough to crack it. “Papyrus!” She roars. “Why aren’t you at your station?”

“UNDYNE!” Papyrus squeaks as she lifts him up over her head. “PLEASE DON'T SUPLEX THE SKELETON!” 

She crows with laughter and dangles him by the ankles. “Tell me or I’ll do it!” She threatens, bobbing him up and down for good measure. 

“OW.” Papyrus says blandly. “UNDYNE, THIS IS THE MOST SERIOUS MATTER, AND I CAN'T TELL YOU IF YOU'RE—HOLDING ME LIKE THIS—” His sentence is cut off as Undyne yeets him onto the couch. “OOF.” He mumbles. 

She leaps onto the arm of the couch, hands placed on her hips heroically. “Tell me!” She demands, and waits impatiently as Papyrus takes his time to stand up. With one last stretch, his vertebrae snaps back into position and he dusts himself off. 

“Undyne.” He looks serious, and Undyne is probably surprised. No doubt the skeleton has never looked this serious before. “Sans is missing.” 

Silence.

They stand there for a few seconds before the silence is broken by Undyne scratching the back of her neck nervously. 

“Uh. Who’s Sans?”

Shit.

Chapter Text

Sans is tempted to hit his head on the table. 

But, given that he’s—unfortunately—back in school, and slamming your skull against the table would turn some eyes, he refrains. 

The source of this trouble, you ask? The fact that he finally remembers who MJ is. How did he even forget in the first place? The decathlon team, she was smarter than most of the idiots there—ahem—Flash, and during lunch and class, where she would not stop staring at the three of them. 

Clearly, she’s very observant. Sans will not say that Peter has done a great job of hiding his spidey thing, but it’s certainly enough to fool most of the students. And by most, he means definitely not that kid. She’s a suspicious one. 

“Sans!” Peter jabs him on the shoulder with his pencil. “Can you pay attention so that we don’t blow up?” He hisses, and Sans turns a startled gaze on the beakers in front of him. 

He looks at the instruction sheet for the experiment. “isn’t that the whole point?” Wincing, he rubs the place the pencil struck him. Why does that hurt so much?

Ned looks just a bit concerned as he reads his page. “Why are schools allowed to make us just throw alkali metals into water with no safety equipment or anything? Is that even legal?”

Ah, alkali metals. Extremely reactive metals that usually do combustion inducing things when in contact with water. Really, the amount of things the school can get away with. “At least we don’t have caesium.” Peter mumbles, gingerly picking up his piece of lithium. “Oh well, I guess. Explosions are kind of fun. This one shouldn’t be that bad.” 

Ned stops him before he can just toss the thing in the dish. “Sans, remember that weird shield thing I walked in when we were doing stuff with the core? Can you maybe…?” He finishes the rest of that sentence with a vague gesture. Sans understands what he means, thankfully. 

Calling his magic, he sends some green and cyan over to shield them should anything go horribly wrong. Invisible to the naked eye, of course. Ned visibly relaxes as Sans nods at him to continue. He’s pretty sure humans can still go through the thing. At least, he can still go through, but it should be enough to stop any stray bits of glass and burning metal that might fly their way.

Peter, with a slight warning, drops the piece of lithium in the dish and they watch as it pathetically fizzles around the surface of the water, burning brightly. 

“Didn’t break the glass? Check.” Ned mutters to himself as he writes his observations down. “Did it start a fire? Can you call it that? I guess you can.” He scribbles something else down while Peter is busy preparing the next element. 

He turns. “Potassium.” Waving it around precariously close to the glasses of water, he waits for Ned to finish up before dumping the metal in. Immediately, the water erupts like a geyser, spraying onto Sans’ conveniently placed shield and leaking off, forming a kind of water-sphere. 

“that’s very explode-y” Sans notes. Thank the stars that they’re at the back of the classroom, where nobody can see the shield. 

“Yeah.” Peter agrees. He plucks the still-burning metal out of the water with tongs. “Maybe I put too big of a piece in there.” 

Ned frowns, pausing his writing to have a look at the case of metals. “Do we even have to do rubidium, or can we just pretend we did and guess what the effects are?” Peter grins and mimes an explosion with his hands. 

“nah. the bell’s gonna ring in a bit anyway.” Sans says, moving to pack up the equipment, using a sweep of his hands to magic the water back in the dish. The other two hardly react anymore when Sans uses his magic, when in the beginning they would stare and gape at any interesting things he did. 

Ned still looks startled, just a bit, whenever he does something slightly more cool looking.

The three file out the door behind the other students. It’s lunchtime. 

Sans, back in the underground, had found many stories complaining about school lunches and how bad they were. He didn’t believe them, back then, because his school always had great food. It’s hard to go wrong with monster food. Papyrus is really the only one that struggles, and in addition, Undyne, considering she was the one that “taught” him, if you can call it that.

Suffice to say, the stories underestimated just how bad this stuff is. They somehow made fries taste bad. Grillbz would be disappointed, but he’s not here, so Sans has to be disappointed for him.

He doesn’t even bother getting it anymore and just finds a table for the group when the other two get theirs. A tray clatters down, with Peter sliding in the seat opposite of him, clearly trying not to make a face. 

Man, if only Sans had bothered learning how to cook. He wouldn’t be suffering right now. What he would give to have another meal at Grillby’s…

Well, it’s good that skeletons don’t have to eat. Not that they can eat stuff that isn't magic anyways. It goes right through them. Literally. Making already-cooked food magic barely requires skill though. Just shove some magic in there and boom. Monster food, along with the healing properties and such. Too bad it does nothing for the taste. 

He looks up, bored, to find that MJ had taken a table near them. She was staring at them, as usual. Welp, if she wants something to stare at…

He stands up, dusting himself off, and walks off vaguely in the direction of the nearest hallway. He feels MJ’s eyes on his back as he turns the corner. Immediately, he takes a shortcut to the hallway on the opposite end of the cafeteria and strolls up to her silently. 

She had shifted to observing Peter and Ned, who look like they were about to start a food fight, currently trying to shove fries in each other’s faces. Sans snorts quietly, watching their antics, and as MJ whirls around at the sound, he slides onto the bench opposite her. 

“heya.” He greets, grinning at her shocked expression before she schools it into something more disinterested. It’s unnervingly similar to what Sans does. “remember me?” He asks slyly. 

“You.” She stares at him. “I think I do. Mysterious caller?” 

His grin grows wider. “i just want to know what you want with spidey.” Watching her expression, although it doesn’t change much, there are subtle hints. She’s definitely suspicious, and a little wary of him, which makes sense, considering she probably just watched him leave and suddenly appear behind her with no warning. 

She hums in thought. “I guess, I don't want him to die?” She sounds like she doesn’t know the answer herself. 

“why though?” Sans presses on, tilting his head curiously. “lotta effort for a person you don’t really know.” 

This is where the suspicion starts to set in. MJ’s eyes narrow, and she retorts, “why do you want to know?” 

Deeply mistrustful. Sans notes. Logical, too. “is it wrong to ask for a friend?” He counters, to which MJ turns to take another glance at Peter, who’s being told off by a teacher for the food throwing. Her lips quirk slightly, as if she wants to laugh but is stopping herself.

“I guess not.” She says doubtfully, although doubtful for what, Sans doesn’t know. “I don’t really know why I’m helping him.” MJ admits. “Just seems like I should.” She stands up suddenly, wordlessly walking off to return the lunch tray.

Conversation over, apparently. Sans just shrugs to himself and ambles over to Peter and Ned. 

“Do not do this again, you hear me?” The teacher points aggressively at the two, fries littered all over the ground. “And clean this up!” He storms off down the hallway, trailing behind the other students as they leave. 

Peter grins sheepishly at Sans. “Hey.”

“wow.” Sans says, delicately stepping in-between the fries to get to the table. “it looks like something exploded.” He quickly checks the hallway and spots the teacher glaring at the two boys. “you might wanna clean this up. that teacher’s got his fries on you.” One more glance; the teacher’s gone. With a lazy wave of his hand, all the fries fly back on the tray. 

They’re the only ones left in the lunch hall, and everyone’s probably on their way to their classes by now. He wishes that he can take a shortcut, but there’s too many eyes everywhere. 

So off he goes, walking to his next class, Peter and Ned trailing him like lost puppies.

“heya.” 

MJ bites back a shriek as a deep voice comes from behind her. Unfortunately, she knows this idiot. “Sans.” She mutters, not bothering to look up from her phone. She hears Sans chuckle, then there's a shuffle and what she can see of his feet appear in her field of view. 

From in front of her, when he was clearly behind her a few seconds ago. It takes her a few moments to notice, but when she does, she finally looks up. “How—?”

She sees Sans’ massive grin right in front of her. 

“hey. not even a hello? that’s no way to treat your new pal.” He says jokingly, waggling a finger at her. MJ narrows her eyes. 

“I’m not your pal.” She grumbles, shoving her phone in her bag and standing up, fully intending to walk away from this conversation like she did earlier, during lunch. 

She takes one step before she is stopped by what Sans says next. “i was wondering whether you would like to team up.” 

Team up, huh? What exactly is he offering? Her eyes narrow some more as she turns around to stare at the boy. Sans is incredibly hard to read, unlike certain other people, who’s intentions she can usually discern through their expressions and body language. 

Sans acts like an open book, completely laid back and lazy with a playful and carefree attitude, but she’s spent enough time observing him (it’s not stalking, shut up) to know that he isn’t what he makes himself to be. 

Not like he’s mysterious, though, more like he sometimes does things that makes MJ want to question the entire universe, or want to lock him in a room and interrogate him until he gives up all his secrets. 

She realizes with a start that, like how she’s currently analyzing him, he’s also watching her just as carefully. As soon as her eyes flick back up to his, Sans grins. “earth to mj. i haven’t even told you what this whole thing is and here you are already daydreaming about how great it’s going to be.” 

“I wasn’t daydreaming. Maybe you’re too in over your head to realize that.” MJ snaps, agitated. Sans’ eyebrows raise a fraction. 

“no need to get violent so quickly. jeez, you really can’t take a joke, huh?” He questions, although he’s still grinning. He thinks for a moment before saying, "team up, i mean, doesn’t actually mean petes has to know if you don’t want to. it could be just you and me, helping ol’ spidey whenever he’s in a pickle. which—happens a lot now that i think about it. you seem to know a lot about the vulture dude, and i’m just wondering if it’d be easier without all this secrecy.” 

Now that she thinks about it, yes, it would be much easier. But at the same time, she prefers to be anonymous, as that would prevent ties between her and Parker. 

“Give me some time to decide.” She says eventually, readjusting her backpack and walking briskly down the sidewalk to the train station without saying goodbye. 

Playful, snarky, likes to tease people until they want to explode. God, what has she gotten into? People like him drive her crazy.

Peter’s on a mission. Today is going to be the day the Vulture guy goes down. Sneaking around alleyways while also finding nothing of use is definitely part of that plan. 

With only his suit for information on where the enemies are, this plan is going great. 

…is what he would say if he actually had a plan. Or if it’s actually going great or not.

There! He sees purple light in the distance, shooting like lasers into the rapidly darkening sky. That has to be it.  

Excitedly, he pulls his mask on, refills his web shooters, and swings out to bust the deal as quickly as he possibly can. Unfortunately for him, a bright red suit against a very illuminating sunset means that he basically has a target on his back. Doubly unfortunate for him, the bad guys had seen the target. As in, him.

One of the men hurls something into the sky. It looks like a little cylinder, with caps on both ends and a blinking light. It explodes with light, and had Peter had worse reflexes, he knows for a fact that he would’ve been blinded for several minutes, and probably shot out of the sky. Still, even if he dodged the worst of it, he still has to blink the spots from his eyes. 

A flashbang. 

Following close behind are shots from a pistol, narrowly missing him as he barely dodges them. He swings around wildly to avoid being an easy target, eyes narrowly watching for an opening. The guy has got to run out of ammo sometime, right? 

The bullets stop. As the man is reaching for another weapon from the truck, Peter finds his chance, diving onto the dude and knocking him out cold, head slamming against the concrete. He barely has time to wince, because ow, that must’ve hurt a lot, when the other guy charges him. 

And by charge, he means literally as the guy sprints towards him with lightning buzzing out of his devices, strapped to his wrists, and tackles him. The electricity, when it touches him, feels and acts like a freaking taser, rendering him nearly immobile as he tries to dive out of the way. 

God, it hurts. The pain steals his breath away, and he heaves as his lungs just suddenly decide that they’re going to quit or something. Even worse, the electricity seems to have disabled his suit, meaning he’s on his own. 

Something rumbles as he lies on the ground, desperately trying to breathe, when the wind is knocked out of him again as at least several hundred pounds of concrete falls onto him, leaving only his head not crushed.

“Hmph.” The guy snorts as he stands over him, grinning sadistically. “That should teach you to stop intruding in our business. Leave crime-stopping to the professionals, won’t you? Kid?” He taunts as Peter squirms under the crushing weight of stone. 

He leaves, and Peter can hear him cackling as he lifts the unconscious body of his partner and drives off.

Minutes pass. “Hello?” Peter calls out. “Hello? Anyone there?” No one responds. He tries and fails to lift the concrete. “Karen?” He whispers, but as to be expected, no response. Peter starts to panic a little, trying desperately to get out. 

The guy was right, he realizes. A professional wouldn’t have gotten in this situation. A professional would have done the right thing, and apprehended the criminals successfully. A professional would’ve been a better person to protect the civilians. 

He’s a terrible hero. Completely useless when it comes down to it. A child. Someone who needs help just to do anything correctly, someone that exists only to get the credit for someone else’s hard work. He failed Mr Stark. 

He sniffs. A tear leaks down his cheek as he wallows in self pity, lying there for god knows how long. Eventually, panic leads to desperation as he yells for someone, anyone to help him. 

But nobody came. 

What was it that Sans had said? He hadn’t had time to puzzle it out before Ned had come before. 

“better make sure the rest of you doesn’t crumble the same way.” 

“it's like blaming a tornado for an earthquake’s destruction. it’s not its fault.”

Not its fault…

What’s this about crumbling? His skill? His sanity, which is slowly going downhill the longer he’s stuck here? 

He’s only half sure Sans had said that only for the pun now. It means something, he just knows it.  

But what is it?

Chapter Text

It’s hours later and he finally gets it. He laughs mirthlessly, and honestly it's just a pity laugh at himself at this point. What, is Sans prophetic now too? 

Ruin? Crumble? Earthquake? 

What’s he getting at, exactly, with the rock jokes conveniently timed a day before he gets stuck under a rock? God, he wishes Sans is here right now. Telekinesis seems pretty dang handy right now. He starts giggling, the stress finally starting to get to him. Almost like he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

Wow, Sans is really rubbing off on him.

Tears of laughter start rolling off his cheeks, and he can’t even wipe them away considering his situation. 

He really shouldn’t have taken this whole ‘weapons sale’ thing for granite. Just look where it’s gotten him. And it’s all his fault. 

The giggling gets almost hysterical, and he gasps for air as his lungs can’t inflate enough under the slab of concrete. 

Eventually, the giggling gives way to coughing, and he finally calms himself down a few more minutes. 

Oh god, he’s going to die here, isn’t he? He’s basically at the edge of the city, on a random alleyway looking off into the river. If the weapons dealers were confident enough to do illegal things here without being found—besides him, of course—then no one’s going to find him. 

And, he had help. Help in the form of Karen, who’s broken. Why is Mr Stark’s tech so breakable, anyways? 

He really can’t do anything without help, can he? What a pathetic superhero he is. 

Trying to lift the concrete again, although his attempts start getting more and more pathetic. Instead of desperation, there’s only resignation as the concrete continues to not move. 

The concrete moves. 

It’s hours later and Sans hasn’t seen Peter since school, despite him saying that they could meet up at his house later. He’s starting to get concerned. 

After wandering around the neighbourhood for a good half hour, he’s started to branch out to other parts of the city to see if he can find him beating up some weapons dealers or something. In hindsight, he’s starting to realize that he’s never seen or felt Peter’s soul before, so scanning the city for that is out of the question.

So the next best option, searching on foot. Peter has a faint aura of magic that Sans can barely detect if he’s paying close enough attention, which he’s doing now. He keeps his senses on the lookout as he walks briskly down a shady street. 

He’s not been attacked by some random drug addict yet, but it can’t hurt to be careful. Taking a glance around, he takes a shortcut onto a nearby roof to scan for Peter. 

…No sign of him over here. Better keep looking. 

A sudden, powerful gust of wind suddenly bowls into him, nearly knocking him over. What the hell…? He can swear he hears motors, but there is nothing there. 

A nearby traffic cone suddenly flies into the air. There’s a faint sound of a plane, and although it's probably invisible, it should be pretty easy to track considering how low it's flying. A few seconds later, another object flies in the air. 

He shortcuts his way over, only to see a massive slab of concrete just laying there on the ground. There are faint signs of a scuffle that had happened here, judging by the amount of shredded cloth and shattered metal lying on the ground. 

Stopping on the edge of a roof ledge overlooking the area, he keeps his hands in his pockets as he gathers his magic and lets it swirl around the thing. There’s no one here, so he doesn’t bother moving his hands to control his blue magic. 

The stone creaks as he slowly lifts the thing off of whatever’s underneath, only to find a body on the ground. That’s strange. What a weird place to hide a body. He squints, unable to make out any distinct features from where he is. 

He grabs it, fully expecting to have his magic lock around the body like an inanimate object, when there’s a telltale PING! of his magic grabbing onto a soul. It flies out of the person’s chest, the soul’s vessel following close behind as he lifts the unfortunate person up. 

Only to find…

“pete?” Sans asks, startled as his face comes into view. The boy’s eyes widen as his eyes nearly cross trying to look at the glowing blue soul in front of him. 

Sans quickly sets him on his feet, releasing his hold on the soul. It stays floating outside of his body, and will stay that way until Sans dismisses it, reverting quickly back to its original colour. 

Peter squints as the soul shines brightly. Orange.

Bravery. 

Makes sense, considering what the kid does for a living. Well, not for a living, considering he doesn't get paid. Speaking of which…

Peter yelps as he moves, and the floating soul moves with him. “What is this thing?” He asks, trying to grab it. It’s just out of his reach though, and as he leans forward to swipe at it, the soul moves accordingly. 

“your soul.” Sans answers absentmindedly, peering over the edge. 

Peter just looks more agitated. “My soul?! What’s it doing outside of my body?” A pause. “Wait, souls actually exist?” 

Sans represses the urge to sigh. Heavily. Do humans really know so little about their own bodies? “i pulled it out when i pulled you out from under that rock.” He says, finally turning his attention onto the little floating heart. He pulls his hand out and crooks a finger. 

PING! Goes the soul once again as it turns blue and Peter lifts into the air. “Whoa!” He squawks as he is suddenly weightless once more. Sans drops the magic and Peter lands on his feet with a thump. “That is so cool! Why is it orange?” 

Sans grins. “orange means bravery. really fits you, soul -dn’t it?” 

Peter’s expression drops in an instant. “That barely even works.” He grumbles. “Why are you even here?” 

“aww, not even a thank you for the rock thing?” Sans teases. Actually, why was Peter under a rock in the first place? 

Peter tilts his head. “Oh yeah. Thank you. I thought I was going to die. So.” He gives Sans a grateful smile, then pulls his mask back on. “I got some bad guys to chase.” He crouches, preparing to jump off, when he suddenly stops and cocks his head towards Sans. “You…wanna come with?” 

Sans shifts on his feet. “well, it’s kinda hard to find you after you go swinging in the middle of nowhere.” Peter blinks at him—and Sans knows that because the suit blinks too—when realization strikes him. 

“Oh. Right.” 

Sans shrugs. “i wonder if…” He muses, then summons his magic and creates a small bone, of which he hands to Peter. “if you need me, just break that and i’ll know where you are. never tried this over a long distance, but,” he shrugs again. “worth a try. you might be feeling too bone- ly otherwise.” 

“Yes, I’m sure that will be the reason.” Peter deadpans. Still, he takes the bone and shoves it in a compartment on his wrist. “Thanks though, I’ll probably see you later.” 

“see ya, kiddo.” 

“Kid—?” Peter blurts out, before realizing, again. If he didn’t have the mask on, he would probably be smiling sheepishly at Sans, but he just hops off the ledge without another word. 

Sans chuckles as he watches Spidey swing off. 

Wow, he’s overdue for a break. Searching for a kid under a rock is hard work, and hard work should’ve been for slacking off instead of actually doing it. Gotta take his legally required break, after all. 

Toomes grimaces at his workers as they prepare for their heist. Damn that Spider Man, forcing him to move his operations forward so quickly. They need more time, more supplies, more people—!

At least the devices seem to be in working order. He walks past a table, picking up a pistol and inspecting it. 

They need to get this done while the idiotic vigilante is still stuck under that rock, as the grunt told him anyways. No doubt he wouldn’t be under there for long, but he needs to take that opportunity as it is. 

“We’re leaving!” He barks into the warehouse as he heads straight for the back. “Make you get everything on the list, and I mean everything, because if you don't, we are going to fail.”

There is panicked shuffling as the workers start running around like lab rats, checking everything they have. Toomes strolls towards his wingsuit in the back and starts strapping it on. 

Once everything is in place, he starts the machine. He is suddenly weightless, the engines revving as they furiously beat to keep him in the air.

“The plane is heading for the beach outside of the city.” One of his men shouts over the noise of the engines at him. 

Toomes grins. “Perfect.” He starts to lift into the air, observing his men as they start up their trucks. He checks his wristband, and the tracker they had planted onto the supply ship days before starts blinking. The ship is close.

He uses the wristband to control his mechanical wings and soars away, chasing the cloaked ship as it flies across New York city. 

The loud highways gradually fade away as Toomes ascends to chase the ship. He watches as his men’s trucks drive onto the beach and he signals them to move onto the next stage of the plan. It’s going well so far, they don’t seem suspicious enough to make the ship turn around. 

As it swoops low over the beach, two of his men fire grapples that lock onto the ship and pull themselves up silently, and one of them attaches a device that the group have been working on for months. 

The contraption splits into four, forming a neat rectangle between them, and the rectangle area turns purple and intangible, almost like a portal into the belly of the plane. He watches his men climb through, and a few minutes later, a massive box drops through the opening. That’s his cue. 

He swoops down and catches the box, underestimating how heavy it would be. As soon as he catches it, he dips down at least two feet and wobbles, but he manages to stabilize himself and starts flying towards the beach, to drop this package off and wait for the next one.

Surprisingly, nothing bad happens as he is doing this. 

…To be fair, it's the second time he flies back with another crate of Chitauri cores that everything goes wrong. 

He had been too busy making sure nothing was damaged during his second pick up to notice the fact that the entire first crate seems to have exploded. The beach is combusting, with fire so bright that he has to blink spots away from his eyes after only a few seconds of looking at it in shock. 

Fuck. He wasn’t aware that these things are flammable above everything else. He flies over the beach, looking for a safe spot to land when he’s suddenly knocked off balance. 

A panicked glance at his right wing tells him that the Spider brat is here, hanging off a wing. Toomes swears under his breath and swerves, rolling in the air until the vigilante is unable to hold on and falls onto the beach. 

He speeds over Spider Man, hoping to get away from him as quickly as possible with his treasure when the brat flings out his arms and webs shoot out, attaching quickly onto his crate, and yanks. 

The wind is knocked out of him as he’s pulled to the ground. He crashes onto the beach, winded. A sharp spike of pain goes through him as he falls face first into the ground.

My rib is broken, he thinks through the haze of pain. 

He lies there for a few moments to gather his thoughts when he feels a tug on his precious cargo. No! All his hard work, and some spandex wearing idiot is not going to take it away from him!

Toomes forcefully re-activates his wings, and the engines sputter as he slowly lifts off the ground. The Spider Man yelps as he is lifted along with cargo, but one good kick to the head and he’s off. 

He watches the vigilante fall to the ground triumphantly. A blow that hard to the head definitely means he’s knocked out. Hovering next to him, he sets the crate carefully on the ground. 

Not taking any chances, he decides to just hover beside it instead of landing, in case he needs to take off again. He sends a message to his cronies, telling them to leave, that they got what they needed. 

He feels Spider Man stir, and kicks him in the side with his boot. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He growls, keeping a close eye on him as he calls for backup.

The vigilante groans, slowly lifting a hand to press against his side. This movement causes Toomes to nudge him with his toe again, but he really doesn’t think the brat’s going to try anything. Not like this. 

Snap! The sound startles him out of his focus. He glances down to see…some white thing. So the vigilante had prepared a backup plan. Too bad it’s broken. 

He laughs. “Did you really think that would work?” He mocks.

Spider Man mumbles something. Toomes leans in closer. “What did you say?” The brat laughs weakly. 

“That is such an overused cliché.” He says louder, giggling, and Toomes frowns. How old is this kid?

“Let me say this again, then.” He threatens, jabbing his finger down at the vigilante’s chest. "Did you really think that would work?”

“yes.” 

Suddenly, he’s on the ground. He takes a moment to process how he got there, when someone leans over him with a bright grin. “heya.” 

"You.” Toomes bellows, struggling to get off the ground. Each time he tries, however, he just finds himself back in the same position he was in a second ago, back on the ground. 

“me.” The mysterious boy agrees. Toomes takes a particularly fast swipe at him and he hops back, grin looking a bit strained. “careful there, buddy. wouldn't wanna hurt someone, now do you?”

Suddenly, his arms are locked onto the ground, wisps of blue light curling around them, and no matter how much he struggles, he can’t move. “How are you doing this?”

The boy’s grin grows wider. “magic.” 

“What.” The child has already turned his attention to Spider Man, completely ignoring him. 

Toomes strains his head to be able to see the two with the rest of him stuck on the ground. The newcomer’s back is turned to him.

“told ya i’d come.” He says, presumably grinning at the vigilante as well.

Spider Man nods. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

“whaddya wanna do with this guy?” The kid asks, turning his attention back onto Toomes, and he does not like how he’s being stared down by children. 

He strains against his invisible bonds. “Let me go and we can find out.” He hisses. The white-haired boy snorts and steps back, raising his hands like a gesture of surrender.

Spider Man steps forwards instead, raising his hand in a familiar position. A long string of white shoots out of the contraption on his wrist, attaching to one of his hands. Doing the same to the other one, the vigilante nods at the other child, and Toomes feels the invisible bonds drop. 

Immediately, he lashes out. The webs may be nigh unbreakable, but they do nothing to stop Toomes from lunging towards the annoying brat, tackling him. 

The two roll down the beach, heading straight towards the water, when they are stopped by a pair of legs. Toomes holds Spider Man down as he looks up to see the boy, standing over him again. 

…Wasn’t he just at the top of the hill?

He glares at the boy, who just chuckles darkly. “just gonna give you a warning, old man.” He says casually, shoving his hands in the pockets of his blue hoodie. “you’re gonna have a bad time if you keep goin’ on like this.” 

Spider Man grunts, then flings Toomes off of him, heavy wingsuit and all. “It’s okay. I’ve—” His sentence is interrupted when he lunges out of the way of Toomes’ next attack, shooting webs in rapid succession to bind his hands together. “—got this.” 

Toomes snarls. He flings himself off the ground, wings shuddering as he breaks free from the bonds and speeds over to his precious cargo. Unbeknownst to him, some of the cores had started sparking as he hefts it up and starts to fly as quickly as his suit will let him. 

He’s this close to the nearest parked truck when his box is nearly ripped from him again. Glaring down to the vigilante as he desperately holds on with his webs, Toomes is pulled closer against his will. 

“No!” He roars as some of the energy cores fall from the crate and explode against the beach. Not noticing the double-take Spider Man makes as the flames triple in height, he yanks with all his might. The webs slip off and he flies higher, hoping to get out of the shooting range. 

Spider Man sprints and jumps over the flames. Toomes curses. He was hoping that the fire would be enough to stop him, but no. More webs latch onto his box, and the fight basically turns into a tug of war. 

Machine versus man. They both hold on for what feels like an eternity. 

Then: “Stop!” Comes a cry from the vigilante. “Don’t do this!” 

“What makes you think you are enough to stop me?” Toomes yells back down, arms shaking from the strain of the fight. “I have backup coming in a few minutes, and your friend won’t even help you! You are alone!” 

“And I can do this alone! I told him that I can handle it and I will!” Spider Man retorts, shooting another web onto the crate. “Please, just let go! It’s going to explode!” 

Toomes laughs at the pathetic argument. “Of the two of us, who do you think knows more about these cores? Me!” 

“You don’t know that! I can see it!” The vigilante pleads with him, heels digging into the soft sand. “Look at them! They’re sparking, and your first crate has already exploded!” 

Toomes, too absorbed in his mission, ignores him and continues to fight against the webs. In one twist, the edges of his wing catch onto the webs and they shred. He laughs in triumph and shoots up into the sky. Then, his newfound momentum suddenly stops. 

That goddamn Spider Man! Why does he always have to ruin everything Toomes had worked so hard to build!? Granted, what he built is illegal, but that logic doesn’t stop him from being frustrated, having all this at his fingertips and getting it torn away. 

“It’s going to explode!” Spider Man screams, running and leaping for the crate, much faster and higher than any normal human could ever achieve.

Is the crate…vibrating? In the second Toomes leans in to check, webs tear the box away from his grasp. He makes a wild grab at it, but his gathered momentum tugs him away. And just in time, too.

FWOOSH! 

A massive cloud of fire and smoke erupts from the box of cores, sending a shockwave that blows back everything on the beach, including Toomes. 

He cries out in pain and shock as he watches the explosion, his suit being ripped away from him and his skin blistering under the heat. Toomes slams into the earth once again.

Chapter Text

Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth. Doing that sends a wave of pain through his entire body.

It really did explode then, huh?

His skin’s blistering under the heat of the explosion and his head throbs from where he had hit it as he fell. Weakly raising his hand, he grimaces at the sight of blackened, bubbling skin that coats his arm. His suit is ripped and he’s cut in multiple different places from his fall. 

Strangely, his burns don’t seem to bother him as much as his bruises. Third degree burns, he thinks blearily. They stop hurting because the nerves are damaged to the point that you stop feeling. 

He thinks he can see a hint of bone on his leg. Dropping his head back down as he can’t muster the energy to keep it up any more, he looks at the ironically peaceful night sky. 

Sans suddenly appears, standing above him, and Peter can’t even muster enough energy to be surprised. His everlasting grin twitches a little as he eyes the exposed bone. “hey, kid. bones are my thing, not yours.” He jokes. 

Peter coughs as he tries to laugh. “Well.” He rasps, leaning over to hack the smoke out of his lungs. “I usually would like to keep it that way.” 

“but you had no choice.” Sans notes. His eyes assess Peter’s entire body, to his shaking hands, to his burned legs, to the bruises on multiple parts of his body that’s exposed.

Peter agrees. “Yep.” 

Sans makes a lazy gesture, as if he’s grabbing something from thin air. A hotdog falls into his hands. He stares at the hotdog for a second, and something visibly flashes in his eyes. He hands it over before Peter has time to take a closer look. “here, kid. eat up, it’ll help.” 

“A hotdog will help?” 

Sans shrugs. “i mean, if you don’t want it…” He starts to pull his arm away slowly. Tantalizingly slowly. 

“No, no, no. Gimmie that.” Peter says, weakly grabbing at it. Sans quickly hands it over with a grin, and Peter takes a big bite out of the hot dog. 

The food does something strange. It still tastes like a hot dog, seasonings and everything, but where food is supposed to go down your throat when you swallow it, this one just…dissolves. And by dissolves, he doesn’t mean just dissolves into thin air, but he can feel the tingles travel down his entire body. It’s hard to explain. 

He shivers. It’s a weird feeling. What feels weirder, though, is the feeling of skin stitching itself back up. Peter raises an arm in wonder as the blackened skin quickly reverts back to its original color, and his wound fills back up with fresh, healthy flesh. 

“Wow.” He breathes, before quickly finishing the hot dog. The magic prickles as it quickly finishes its work, not even leaving a scar. He presses a hand gingerly to the side of his leg, where there was once bone, feeling for bruises that aren’t there. “What is this stuff?” 

Sans grins, but relief shines in his eyes. “mons—magic food. good stuff, huh?”

“Yeah.” Peter rubs his forehead. He takes a deep breath. "Really good stuff.” All the smoke is cleared from his lungs as well. Wow, a singular hotdog could put the entire medical industry out of business. “What’s in that thing?”

“magic.” 

“I couldn’t have guessed.” Peter deadpans as he stands up, fully rejuvenated. “But wow.” 

“that’s certainly a word for it.” Sans says as he strolls up to the bird-man, who is knocked out. “might wanna tie this guy up.” He notes with a casual tone that definitely is not suited for the situation.

Peter sprints over and ties the guy’s arms and legs together with webs. He then rips a piece of cardboard out from one of the fallen boxes, pulling a pen out of a compartment on his wrist, writing in large letters: “Bad guy here. Arrest him.” 

Underneath, he draws a giant arrow. He drags the guy to lean upright onto a wall, then sticks the sign beside him with webs. The guy—thankfully—isn’t burned as badly as Peter was, considering his proximity to the explosion. 

Peter stumbles across the battlefield, stomping out any fires still burning as he goes. Sans follows at a relaxed pace, hands back in his pockets. 

They get to one of the walls surrounding the beach and Peter quickly climbs up, sitting down on the other side and leaning against it with a heavy sigh, eyes trained on the ground. Shuffling over, Sans plops down beside him.

It’s really dark now; the sun had set again during the battle. Peter looks at Sans, head tilted up and eyes tracing the stars above. 

It’s peaceful here, just the two of them. 

A few minutes later, there’s a distant sound of stomping feet, and Sans’ eyes slowly move towards the wall. The rest of him doesn’t follow, but a moment later, he shifts. 

In a blink, he’s standing in front of Peter. “need a hand?” He offers, grinning. Peter nods wearily. 

Sans’ grin grows, and he detaches his arm, holding it out in front of him. 

Peter yelps and stumbles back. Sans laughs as Peter scoots back until his back is against the wall again. “Sans, what the hell!?” 

“thought you needed a hand.” The detached arm wiggles, and Peter bites back a shriek. 

“Not literally!” Peter says, panicked at the sight of the limb, which has changed back to looking like a skeleton arm now that it’s not attached to the glamour thing. 

Sans shrugs. “should’a been more specific then,” he teases, before reattaching the limb with a pop. He holds the same hand out, now fully reattached, and Peter grabs onto it gratefully. He stumbles to his feet, dusting himself off. 

He points at Sans with a shaky hand. “I should’ve known your limbs could come off.”

“well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound as funny.” Sans says, shrugging, hands in his pockets. “they arrested the bird-guy, by the way. thought we should move before they find us too.” 

“Good idea.” Peter agrees. He suddenly has a thought. Bringing a hand to his chest, he gently presses the black spider logo that is attached to his suit. A hologram appears in front of him with giant red letters: BATTERY DEAD.

“Ohhh, my god.” Peter puts his head in his hands. “I forgot to charge my suit! It didn’t end up breaking!” 

He hears the sound of laughter and turns to see Sans snickering into his sleeve. “Sans! This isn’t funny! You know how many problems this suit could have solved for me!”

Sans’ amused expression turns a little bit sad. “but you didn’t need it in the end.” He points out, and Peter grumpily agrees. “might not wanna depend on ol’ starky in case his tech isn’t reliable when you need it. you gotta know how to take care of situations on your own. can’t depend on some random famous billionaire all the time. who knows, let’s say he doesn’t teach you anything about…guns. and when you’re on the battlefield, your limited knowledge just goes in one ear and out the other. literally.” 

Peter’s expression drops under his mask. “You really set up that entire monologue for that pun.” 

Sans shrugs and grins. “you know me. my track record is off the rails lately. gotta roll back on track.” Peter just sighs. He climbs up the wall to peek over the edge, seeing that the bird man is indeed gone. 

“Come on!” He hisses. “We gotta get back before May finds out I'm gone.” He turns and leaps over a building, pausing to look down at Sans, who’s looking at him with a wistful expression. 

“—just like pap.” Peter thinks Sans mutters, before the skeleton shakes his head and grins up at him. “i’ll just follow ya.” He says. Peter nods and darts down the alleyway, swinging past rows of apartments and office buildings. He swings past giant billboards, and several times, he sees flashes of white looking down at him from rooftops.

Teleportation must be really handy. Well, duh. Obviously. 

A few minutes later, he’s home, silently opening the window to his bedroom. Sans appears inside, swiftly shutting the door before, maybe, May just walks in and sees him.

What a thoughtful guy. Something really bad really could’ve happened there.

He ducks inside, shuts the window and tiptoes to his closet, quickly getting changed. 

Footsteps quickly pitter patter down the hall, approaching his room. “Peter? You okay in there?” He hears Aunt May call. 

“All good!” He says back, pulling his shirt on and walking out into the room. He sees May’s head peeking through the door.

“Peter! Glad you decided to wake up earlier today! Maybe you’re finally turning into a morning person.” She teases, to which Peter vehemently shakes his head.

“No, no. That’s not gonna happen.” He says cheerfully, and May shakes her head and laughs. 

She opens the door a little more, frowning a bit as she looks at Peter. “Is that…dirt on your face?”

Peter laughs nervously, rubbing the side of his nose as he tries to think of an excuse. “I…was repotting the plant.” He gestures out the window, where there’s a planter hanging off the side.

May’s eyes narrow slightly. “With your hands?”  

“…Yes.”

They look at each other for a few seconds longer before May just smiles, clearly not believing him, and walks back out.

“heh. spider plant.” 

Peter hears Sans say from outside the now-open window. “Huh?” He asks, turning around to see the skeleton perched on the branch of the tree outside. 

Sans gestures to the sad, drooping plant in the box. “the plant. it’s called a spider plant. an interesting coincidence.” 

Peter laughs, slightly embarrassed as he looks at the dying leaves. “Yeah. I bought it a few months ago because I thought it was funny.”

Sans stands up, sending a jolt of fear running through Peter as he carelessly walks across the branch. The thinnest part somehow doesn’t break, only bends a little as Sans hops inside the room. 

“lookin’ a lot more like a web than a spider at the moment.” He notes, prodding a leaf with the tip of his finger. Interestingly, when he touches it, the leaf immediately seems a little less sad. Is Peter hallucinating? Probably.

“I’m not good with plants.” Peter offers as a wimpy excuse for the damage. Sans chuckles, placing his hand in the dirt. Peter tilts his head as his plant slowly starts to perk up, leaves straightening out and turning a slightly brighter shade of green.

It stops after a few seconds, with another few seconds of Sans staring at the plant before he shifts, standing up and dusting his hand off on his pants. “that’s bout as much as I can help it. whether it actually survives is up to you, i guess.”

Peter fingers the leaves. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Sans’ expression drops a little. “some things.” He says. “not much anyone could do about that, bud- dy.” 

“About what?” Peter questions, curious to learn more about Sans. He can count the amount of things he knows about the distant skeleton’s life with one hand. And by one hand, he means one finger. One thing. The fact that he’s from a different dimension or something. No details, no other explanation. Nothing. 

And even that, he had just assumed, as Sans had never told him outright.

“nothing you gotta worry about, kid. leaf this alone, alright?” Sans grins up at him, but his hands are clenched. Peter frowns back. 

“No. Clearly, there’s something wrong.” He says, warily watching as Sans’ eyes go dark. “I know, I’m a hypocrite for saying this, but you gotta tell someone sometime.” 

Peter is starting to be honestly scared of Sans, with how grim his expression is turning. “I—I mea—I mean, wouldn’t you just feel…” He flounders around for something different to say. “…Wouldn’t you feel better? Maybe?” 

Sans’ expression softens a little, but his gaze is hard. Peter finds the courage to put his hand on the skeleton’s shoulder, unflinching as he shys away from the touch. “Tell me.” He says firmly. “Please.” He pleads.

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Sans deflates, tugging his shoulder out from beneath Peter’s hand. “jeez, kid. when did you get so demanding?” He shoots Peter a grin, dropping into a cross-legged position on the floor.

He sighs, dropping his head in his hand. Peter cautiously sits down next to him. “can’t promise you’ll understand anything about this, kid. i don’t understand it much either.” 

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Peter says flippantly. He—as he finds out later—was very wrong.

Sans definitely keeps the details short and vague, and there’s definitely a lot that he doesn’t say, but Peter’s head is spinning so much by the end of it that he’s almost grateful that there aren’t so many details. 

Such things like: a talking flower, monsters, magic barriers, children, murdery children, time travel—!

“Like a video game?” Peter interrupts when Sans gets to that part. Sans has an amused grin on his face as he cocks his head. 

“video game?” He echoes. “what’s that?”

“You don’t know what a video game is?” Peter is on his feet in a second. “It’s like–”

Sans laughs as Peter runs around trying to find an example. “calm down kid. just messin’ with ya.”

"Sans!” Peter groans as he skids to a stop and flops face down on the bed, nearly banging his head on the wall. He hears more laughing coming from Sans. “Why do you do this to me?” He whines.

“pfft.” Sans leans back against the bedpost. “you are so easy to mess with.” 

“I know.” Peter grumbles into the pillow. “I don’t even know what’s real anymore. A talking flower?” 

“had a face and everything.” Sans confirms. “pain in the bud.”

A hand shoots up from where Peter lay, pointing directly at where Sans is sitting. “That might be your worst one yet.” 

Sans chuckles. “yeah. they’re getting stale, aren't they? gonna have to cook up some new ones.” 

Peter groans again, slapping a hand to his forehead, where there is an increasingly red spot on it with the amount of times he’s done this exact action. “God dammit, Sans.”

Chapter Text

“Sir.” His AI, FRIDAY, speaks up from the hidden speakers that Tony had placed everywhere. 

“Not right now, Friday.” He grumbles without even looking up from his work. He pulls up a few holograms that are running diagnostics on his latest suit. Mark 50, or Mark “L” in roman numerals—which if Tony had stopped to think about it for a second, is an incredibly unfortunate name for what it is. 

“This Is Urgent, Sir.” The voice persists. Tony, in typical fashion, ignores it. He mutters to himself as he tests the tech. This is his first time using nano-technology on a full body suit, which in the past he’s only used to retract his helmet. 

He slams his fist down on a holographic screen on the table, watching with pride as the prototype suit retracts into the arc reactor in his chest. “The Spider Suit Has Been Damaged.” The AI tries, finally getting a reaction from the billionaire. 

Tony tears his eyes from his screen. “What?” 

“The Spider Suit Has Been Damaged.” It repeats, before bringing up a model of the kid’s suit. He quickly scans the area for damage, concern deflating when he only finds minor scratches. Course his suit wouldn’t be that ruined.

“What—this isn’t urgent—” He stops in his tracks, eyes tracing lines of information. “…What has the kid been doing?” 

The suit’s apparently been offline for two days. Two days of not being able to protect the kid from that bird man. Two days of not knowing what he’s been up to. “Friday, where’s the kid now?” 

“The Spider Suit Is Charging In His Apartment.” The AI answers. “I Haven’t Been Able To Monitor Anything While It Was Down. Also,” FRIDAY adds, “I Had Called It Urgent Because It Might Have Gotten Your Attention Faster.”

"Thanks. Really. Gonna have to change that.” Tony grumbles, slightly regretting giving the AI a personality. Originally, it was because he hadn’t wanted to listen to a robot voice for the rest of his life. Beep boop and all that jazz. He had done the same thing with JARVIS. “Get Happy to call the kid.” He orders, raising his voice slightly. 

“Of Course.”

“And tell him to bring the kid here.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Tony sighs. He should’ve expected the kid to go off and do something stupid like this. He can only assume the so-called “Vulture’s” capture by the New York police yesterday was the kid’s doing. 

Because, he admits to himself, even the kid is more capable than any law enforcements out there.

The news hides the incompetence, as usual. Tony can’t really do much about that though, but he busies himself preparing something…special. 

“They Are On Their Way.” FRIDAY informs Tony around an hour later. He nods and walks briskly to an elevator, which quickly brings him to the lobby of the building. Just in time too—Happy and the kid were just walking through the front doors, the latter looking around the expansive building in wonder. 

Tony turns the corner and the kid notices him, flashing him a very guilty smile. Happy nudges him forwards, and Peter stumbles as he nervously approaches Tony. 

“Heyyy, Mr Stark.” He leans against a wall innocently, a stark contrast from his demeanor a second ago. Tony eyes him with suspicion. 

“Kid.” He greets with a nod, looking at Peter intensely. 

The kid squints at him, equally suspicious. “You’re not mad?” 

“Oh, I’m very mad.” The kid deflates at those words. “But.” Tony adds with a glare. “You did good, kid.” He wraps an arm around the kid—who’s sporting a very confused expression—leading him further into the building, telling Happy to not follow them. 

They walk in tense silence until they come to a seemingly blank wall, engraved with the Avengers logo. Tony stops, hands on the kid’s shoulders, and turns him around until they both face it. He stands there for a second, contemplating how to say what he wants to say. 

“Kid.” He begins. “You…disobeyed my orders.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “But,” he then adds. “ Clearly, that was a good thing. Just this once though. My words gave you just enough motivation to do what’s right.” 

The kid opens his mouth—presumably to argue, but Tony carries on, unable to see past his own ego. “I’ve got about…50–60 reporters and fans coming to this big meeting on the other side of that wall.” He gestures animatedly towards said wall. “All waiting for a big announcement. A very big announcement, one that will change a lot about this…place. And how it’s run.” 

Peter’s expression changes to one of wonder. No doubt this kid’s already got this figured out. He knows what’s coming. The kid is smart.

“So.” Tony stalks up to the wall. “What could be a better announcement than me,” he gestures unnecessarily to himself, “introducing you,” pointing at Peter, “as the newest member of the Avengers?” 

He places his hand on the engraved logo, then stepping back with a dramatic sweep as the wall reveals itself to be a door, which slides open silently to reveal another spider suit, this time with nice gold plating accents and black in the design.

Tony had expected the kid to agree immediately, maybe gush about how great the suit is for a while, before bringing the kid onto the stage, where his announcement would be met with a lot of applause and praise. 

Instead, Peter immediately steps back, shaking his head vigorously. “I—” He says breathlessly, despite not having done anything physical since he’d been here. “I can’t accept that, Mr Stark.” 

Tony raises an eyebrow, caught off guard—which does not happen often, he could assure anyone who asks. “What.” 

“I’m just the ‘friendly neighborhood Spider Man—you know?” The kid backs up another step. “I’d like to…stay on the ground for a while. You know?” He repeats.

“Well.” Tony switches tracks quickly, surprised to have this wondrous offer declined in his face. “Course you can, kid. ‘Stay on the ground;’ that’s a good analogy. Might have to use that myself sometime.”

“So.” Peter shifts on his feet. “This was a test, right? You’re not actually planning on having me in the team, right?” He looks…hopeful.

“Yep. Just a test. You did well, kid.” Tony leans casually on the wall, arms crossed. “One more thing before you go. That other kid, the one that seems to follow you around. Everywhere. Is he here? I’d like a word.”

The kid gives him a nervous smile. “Sans? Uh—yeah. Yeah, he’s…” He hesitates. “Around. Here. Yes. Do you want me to call him?”

“Thank you.” Tony checks his watch for Pepper’s texts. He had promised to bring the kid around a few minutes ago and she’s getting worried. 

Change of plans, he types. Distract them, will you? 

“heya.” 

Tony jumps, arms windmilling as he tries to regain his balance. “Where did you come from?” He nearly yelps, trying to regain his composure. 

In front of him stands the pale boy from the ferry, and the beach. Dressed haphazardly in an extremely oversized hoodie and black shorts, and wearing…pink slippers? Was he wearing them when Tony had met him before? He’d honestly been too absorbed in other things to pay attention to the boy before, but now, looking at him, he looks much…weirder than he thought. 

Not that weird is bad— he’s fought together with the Hulk, for god’s sake. There’s something…unnatural about the boy, though. Maybe Tony’s just been spending far too much time around supernatural creatures and such. 

The kid shrugs. “around.” He tells Tony helpfully. “whaddya want to talk about?” 

Well, Tony had wanted the few minutes that it usually takes for someone to get here to actually think of something to ask. Sure, he’s curious, but there are so many things to be curious about that it’s hard to figure out where to start. 

Thankfully, a ding sounds from a wall beside him, and elevator doors slide open with a clunk. 

“—just phase into rooms without warning! Or permission!” 

“The elevator doors are open.” 

Two voices overlap each other as heads turn towards the elevator. Ah, Wanda and Vision. New temporary residents here at the Avengers HQ after the…incident with Captain America and the winter soldier. 

Vision gently pushes Wanda out as the doors slide shut. A second later, he floats through the doors, having turned incorporeal and translucent. “Oh.” The robot says, surprised to see the three of them standing there as his body fades back into full opacity. “Are we interrupting?” 

Every day, Sans finds himself questioning the dimension he’s in right now. Every day, something new and unexplainable seems to pop up right in front of him, and he doesn’t have enough time to understand it before the next big thing arrives. Today, already, is interesting enough, but now he’s at the Avengers—what a funny name—headquarters, face-to-face with the magic person and Floaty Red Dude from that one fight a few weeks back. 

He watches in fascination as the red guy seems to just phase through the doors of the exceptionally fancy elevator, turning translucent and glowy. The magic wielder had stood up, brushing her clothes off with her hands and turned her gaze on the group.

More specifically—Sans. Eyes narrowed, she’s clearly trying to figure out why he feels familiar to her, and to no avail; judging by her expression. 

He grins and waves at her innocently, to which she takes a step back before smiling awkwardly in return. 

“Yes.” Tony calls in answer to the red guy’s question. “We are in the middle of something extremely important, so if you could just leave, that would be wonderful.”

“That would be no problem.” Red says tonelessly, floating over to the other person, the magic user, gently tugging her arm. She pushes him off, also incredibly gently, then walks up to the group with a narrow gaze directed at Stark. 

“What are you doing here with two children, Tony?” She asks, to which Stark narrows his eyes. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He responds snidely. 

“Uh.” Peter jumps in before something bad would happen, which is smart, considering that it’s been maybe a few seconds and the woman already looks like she wants to punch Stark in his smug face. Sans would’ve paid to see that, but considering G is not an accepted form of currency here—or anywhere, in this universe—he won’t be able to. 

That wayward thought spurs another: does his inventory work here? And if it does, would it still have his stuff? Technically Alphys—who’s the one that invented this sort of magic—calls it a “dimensional box” but that’s several too many syllables for someone to say—and hear—on a daily basis, so he calls it an inventory. Yes, like a video game.

He’s about the reach out and test it, but then he hears:

“Is he the magic kid you told me about?” 

Oh. Right, he kinda did tell Stark about the whole “magic” thing. And now all eyes are on him. “Yes.” Stark answers with a wry smile. “It’s been hard to get any answers out of him, so I thought it would be easier to coax answers out with another magic…person. And here you are, Wanda, conveniently.” 

“he’s right here, you know.” Sans says, knowingly echoing the words that he had said on the ferry. The man has a habit of talking about people as if they aren’t right beside him. 

“Yes, yes.” Stark waves him off. “Do the magic thing. The levitate thing. Blue thing.” He waves a hand in a gesture similar to magicians when they are about to present a trick. 

“what magic?” He asks innocently with a grin. 

Stark fixes him with a Look™️ and Sans is suddenly reminded of Papyrus doing the exact same expression when he had tried to talk his way out of recalibrating a puzzle. Definitely not impressed. 

“but.” He adds with a dramatic finger point. “what if what i do is purely physics, that we do not yet understand?” 

Stark gives him an epic eye roll. “And what if my suit was made of dirt? We’d all be dead— I would be dead first. Just do it, kid.” 

“jeez, so uptight. you should really pocus on the smaller things, maybe you’d be happier.” 

“Kid, don’t test my patience.” Stark warns. 

Sans winks. “you sure know how to lift the tension, don't you?” And with that, he flicks a finger up, magic swirling as he tries to figure out what to lift. Stark? No, that would mean he has to draw out his soul, which will definitely spur more questions that he does not want to deal with. 

Not many random objects around here either. 

“Kid.” Stark warns again. 

Rolling his eyes, Sans points towards the nearest object to them: a potted tree several yards away. Did he mention how empty this place is? 

It starts glowing blue, then lifts quickly off the ground. Sans rotates his hand, and the plant accelerates to fly towards them. He brings it to a quick and controlled stop right as it’s about to hit Stark, snickering as the billionaire is unable to control himself and jumps away violently. 

Peter’s—who at this point Sans had forgotten is even still here—eyes finally light up with realization and he giggles at the earlier pun. 

“Such control.” Wanda breathes, reaching out a hand that glows bright with her own magic, dark red in colour. Sans feels the slightly untamed magic surround his, and he quickly relinquishes his control of the plant to her. 

“Where did you get this magic?” However aloof Wanda had acted before, it’s suddenly gone as she starts asking questions for her own curiosity, instead of just humoring a certain impatient businessman. 

Sans shrugs carelessly. “born with it. perhaps.” A sly look slowly enters his expression as he takes this opportunity to mess with her. “one could say i was born from it, if you really think about it.” 

“That simultaneously answers the question and doesn’t.” Peter notes, having slid closer to listen—he’s probably also curious, knowing for a fact Sans did not tell him everything earlier, you know, cause he didn’t—extremely used to Sans’ not-answers at this point.

The witch hums in agreement. “And what does that mean?” She questions—really it sounds more like a demand disguised as a question. 

“things.” Honestly, does everyone in this universe have to be so serious? He’s just trying to have a little fun. “stuff and things. magic. where did yours come from?”

“Same as yours did.” Wanda answers simply.

The pot is finally set down with a thump. 

“Is anyone gonna return this to where it originally is?” Stark demands, to which Sans shrugs. 

“maybe if you ask nicely.” He gives Stark a side-eye as he lifts the pot again and sends it back to the other room, pretending to set it down but then immediately lifting it again, spinning it lazily. He watches the billionaire’s face grow stormy the more Sans teases the idea of just dropping the plant where it belongs. 

Stark finally clears his throat after a few long seconds. “…Please, return it.” 

Sans eyes him for a second longer, then shrugs to himself and sends the pot back, gently placing it on the floor. 

Wanda laughs. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you be polite, Tony.” She teases, all earlier tension forgotten in light of the new development. 

“Hey.” Tony snaps. “I’ve had other things on my mind; being polite wasn’t exactly at the top of my list of priorities.” 

“So grumpy.” 

“So.” Peter pipes up, having just been watching the interactions from the side of the room. “Why is Sans here again?” 

Stark straightens. “We’ve gotten sidetracked.” 

“you don’t say.” Sans deadpans, to which Tony glares at him. 

“I haven’t introduced myself.” Wanda steps forwards, a smile on her face. “My name is Wanda.” 

“sans.” He says with a casual air, seeing the miffed expression Stark is sporting from being ignored. “hi.”

Tony checks his watch, to which his eyebrows raise slightly. “We’re out of time. Happy can drive the two of you home, and Wanda and Vision—” Ah, Sans finally has a name to put to the face. “—can go do whatever you’re going to do.” 

“Wow.” Wanda mutters. “So sympathetic to the fact that you just wasted our time.” She shoots a pointed look to Stark, who doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. 

“Shoo.” Is all he says, already turning towards the elevator. Wanda sniffs in displeasure. 

She takes Vision’s hand. “Let’s go. Nice to meet you, Sans.” 

“same to you.” He says with a relaxed grin. Sans and Peter trail the two slowly as both groups head towards the main door, where Happy is standing, holding the door open like a butler. Wanda gives him a nod as she passes, and Happy turns to greet the two others. 

Grumpily, of course. Who would Happy be without living up to his namesake? 

“Get in the car, kid. Kids." He corrects himself, then goes through the doors, beckoning the two to follow, which they do. Sans takes another glance at the building, still taken back by the sheer size of the place. He can swear the place is bigger than the entirety of Snowdin combined.

It's impressive, to say the least.

Chapter Text

Sans stifles a yawn as he sits, back leaning against the wall in Peter’s room, watching him add finishing touches to the giant ball. What did they call it—lego? 

He’s aimlessly flipping a pencil between his fingers, dropping it every so often when he can’t find enough grip to hang on. Several sheets of paper sit in front of him, on the floor: the homework he has yet to finish. 

Sans had gone from actually filling out the sheets of paper dutifully and to the best of his ability to putting the bare minimum effort into his work in only a few weeks, once he realized how pointless this entire thing is. School, that is. 

What dunderhead was the one that had decided teaching kids involved them filling out worksheet after worksheet, usually after watching a questionably entertaining or informative video, he thinks, bemused. No wonder everyone hates school here. 

The school in the Underground was a little like that as well, but one of them…

“Hah!” He hears Ned shout as something audibly gets knocked over. 

“Ned!” Peter complains. “I just finished that part!” There’s a mad scramble to pick up whatever pieces had clattered on the floor, one of them sliding to a stop right in front of where Sans is sitting. 

This makes him finally look up at the two—is it rude to describe them as nincompoops? ‘Cause where he’s standing right now, that honestly seems like the only accurate description—who's suddenly engaged in a fake battle with two little figurines. 

“does anyone want this back, or can i keep it?” Sans calls over the yells of the two boys (“I’ve got you now, Vader!”) with absolutely no intention of keeping the funny looking brick. 

The commotion stops. Peter quickly snatches the piece out of Sans’ pathetic grip and places it smack dab on the top of the sphere. “I’ve been wondering where that went!” 

He just stares at them. “you’ve been wondering?” Sans asks incredulously. Had they not been goofing off the entire time—the few seconds—the piece had skittered its way over to him? Where in his brain had he had the space to wonder? 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yes, Sans. I do do that sometimes.” 

“Two ‘do’s’ right next to each other.” Ned muses. “Is that—I dunno, legal in a sentence?” 

“It is if i say it is.” Peter retorts, and Sans snorts. 

“not sure if it works like that. usually it takes a bit more doing than that.” He says the word in mock disgust, shaking his head.

Ned smirks “That’s how you keep saving so many people, isn’t it Peter? You just say it is, and it happens, right?” 

“Sure.” Peter nods sagely. “That’s exactly what I do, every single time I do something good. Just say how it’s going to happen and change the outcome.” 

Sans winces almost imperceptibly; the wording of that sentence hits a little too close to home. Fortunately, none of the others notice, too busy bantering with each other.

The two boys turn their attention back to the sphere, and Sans back to his work (however reluctantly.) He writes another two short sentences or two before his eyes snag on one of the worksheet questions. “who's ultron?” He asks no one in particular, but both of the boys hear him and look over, one with an expression of shock and the other…excited? 

“Ultron!” Peter says (you guessed it, the excited one is Peter,) “yeah, he was horrible.” 

Sans cocks his head at his tone, which does not fit the words whatsoever. “and…that was a good thing?” 

“No.” Ned cuts in. “Peter, why do you sound excited about that?”

“He was just so cool! I watched him on the news when he was…” Peter stops, suddenly realizing what exactly he’s calling cool. “…destroying…that city.” 

“you sound concerningly excited about a mass- acre.” Sans notes with a hint of amusement. 

“It was cooler when the Avengers went and stopped him,” mutters Peter, who suddenly looks like he’s rethinking his life choices. Ned laughs as he reaches past him to grab a piece of lego, placing it delicately inside one of the levels of the oddly intricate ball. 

“Anyways,” Peter says loudly, effectively changing the topic, however obviously. “Ultron—haven’t you been listening in class? The teacher’s been over this thing already—was a robot that Mr Stark built to…promote peace or whatever. His old AI made the mistake of showing him Twitter or something and he decided that the next stage of evolution is to wipe out humans and replace them with metal aliens.” 

“wow.” Sans is impressed, to say the least. “this twitter thing is that bad?” 

Ned snorts, obviously amused at the whole thing. And bemused, although those words generally sound very similar. “You have no idea. How do you not know about Ultron, anyways? He was all over the news a few years ago.” 

Maybe because he wasn’t here a few years ago, considering it’s only been a short month or so since he had dropped by. Sans hadn’t actually really paid attention to the dates and such since then. There was a…rather unfortunate series of events: the battle between a bunch of random people and the bird man—nicknamed the “Vulture” apparently, from what he’s seen on the news—Tony Stark, to name a few. 

Sans just gives a shrug. “i’m not very up-to- date with this kinda stuff.” Now, that is actually true. The amount of things he knows about this world is disappointingly little; usually he likes keeping on top of things, especially if it’s new to him. “don’t usually do this romance thing, myself.” He adds, for the pun.

“That much is true. Both of em.” Peter snorts, then goes to tack another piece onto their project. “The Death Star is almost finished, though.” 

“Should we get something else after we’re done?” Ned asks, to which Peter hums in thought. 

“Lego’s really expensive though. How long did we save up for this? Several months?” 

“Three,” informs Ned, who’s turned his attention back onto the piece. He doesn’t get a chance to even pick up another brick, however, as the moment he reaches out, Peter suddenly scrambles to his feet, a look of apprehension clearly on his face. 

“what is it?” Sans asks mildly. But Peter doesn’t answer; he reaches over to his phone, which Ned hands to him obligingly, and he puts the news on, leaning it upright against a table leg, sitting down again with a huff. 

“—building has collapsed on Mr Delmar, owner of Delmar’s Deli-Grocery, has sent people fearing for the next natural disaster that might happen anytime. These unexpected earthquakes has sent many into a panic—” 

“I thought I felt something…bad.” Peter grumbles to himself. “It’s just an earthquake.” 

“the name sounds familiar.” Sans remarks as he watches the screen intently. An image of the store appears right where the news-person was standing; it’s a quaint looking shop, red roofed and sporting big white letters that spell out the name of the store. A cat sits on the shelf, staring reproachfully at what’s presumably the camera.

He squints, but since he lacks actual, physical eyes, this action does not help him in the slightest. Instead, he just brings his hand to the screen and zooms the image in with a pinch of his fingers. Vaguely, in the very back of the shop, he can see the pixelated figure of a person, who he assumes is Mr Delmar. The man and the shop also seem extremely familiar…

“peter.” He says suddenly. “wasn’t this the shop that that…weapon nearly destroyed?”

Peter’s eyes light up, figuratively of course, while Ned smirks. “You’re doing it too.” He notes, a little facetious considering what the other two are focused on.

“doing what?” Sans can’t help but ask. 

“The two-words-right-next-to-each-other thing. You said ‘that that.’” Ned’s smirk grows wider.

Sans takes a moment to remember what he had just said. “i did do that, didn’t i?” He says, grinning.

“Is it illegal now that Peter isn’t the one that said it?” The other boy jokes, which brings an interesting thought to Sans. 

He turns to Peter, head cocked curiously. “how’d you know about the ‘something bad happening thing,’ pete?”

“Uhh.” The boy in question deflates a bit, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. Does he look…sheepish? “…You know when that spider bit me? It did more than just…give me strength and whatever. Whenever—and this is just a guess, by the way—whenever danger is near, or happens close by…this is the farthest distance it has done yet…”

“you get alerted?” Sans butts in as Peter trails off. “like an alarm clock?”

“It feels…tingly. I’ve been calling it the ‘tingle’ in my head.” Peter mutters, looking slightly embarrassed. Ah, so that explains the sheepish expression. The stupid nickname. 

Sans grins. “sounds like you’re always wound-up.” He remarks, attempting to diffuse the tension. It works; judging by the way Ned snickers into his sleeve; Peter follows suit and doesn’t even try to hide his laughter.

Then, he stops. Very slowly and deliberately, Peter picks his way through the lego on the ground to push the curtains open. Night is falling, and as Ned and Sans rush over to see what’s going on, light flashes and the unmistakable sound of gunfire goes off, loud even when the window’s closed. 

Peter wastes no time, opening the window after struggling with the lock for a second, then diving out gracefully and swinging away using the tree planted right next to the house. 

The other two stare for a second, then Sans slowly turns his head towards Ned, who’s still gaping open-mouthed at the string of web that’s hanging from the branch. 

“well, he seemed a bit alarmed. whaddya think he’s getting up to now?” 

Peter busts through the window later as Sans and Ned are playing cards, breathing heavily. 

“wassup?” Sans asks after placing a card down on the floor. Ned also looks over. Peter’s wearing his spider suit, which he was probably wearing under his regular clothes

“Mr Delmar. Again.” Peter groans and plops himself down on the floor. “He was getting assaulted by some criminals.” 

“Dude really can’t catch a break, can he?” Ned remarks, slapping a card on the ground.

“Bit unfortunate, really.” Peter agrees, pulling his mask off with a sigh. “Who’s winning?” 

“Sans.” 

“Oh.” 

Sans places a row of cards on the ground, and Ned sighs. “I give up.” 

“sweet.” He says and the cards pack themselves away, surrounded in blue light. Sans yawns and flops down on his back while Ned pulls out his computer. “in this world, catastrophes seem to just happen so much. i bet the avengers can’t catch a break either, can they?” 

Ned seems to be focusing on Sans much more than he was a second ago. “What do you mean, ‘in this world?’” 

“in the world.” Sans corrects himself. 

“The news usually has a field day whenever something bad happens.” Peter jumps in before Ned could get too suspicious. “I bet they’re just hoping for another thing to talk about, those idiots.”

“newscasters could technically count as politicians.” Sans notes. “that explains a lot.” 

“Yeah.” Peter yawns. 

At this point, May comes marching into the room to demand that Peter sleep because it’s late. The two leave pretty quickly after that.

Chapter Text

I’ve never asked, you tell the ghost in your head, and it seems like they know what’s coming judging by the way they tense up. Heh, judging. That’s usually Sans’ job. And it’s not really that funny. Why are you nice now? 

You’d been so distracted by the whole “Sans” thing that you’ve kind of just accepted the fact that the murdery demon thing is okay now. But now, after having explained the situation to Undyne—with a lot of head scratching and repeating questions—and currently on the way to find Alphys in her lab (Undyne hadn’t questioned why you knew who she was,) and the fact that the way to Hotland isn’t exactly quick, you suddenly have a lot of time for interrogation.

I told you! Chara says, agitated. I—

‘—spent a lot of time in the void—’ yeah, I know. But how? You interrupt. 

I…don’t know. You frown, and Chara quickly continues. I mean, I was still on the ‘I wanna see what happens when I do this with absolutely no regard for anyone’s feelings’ thing when Sans did… that, and then he left. Somehow. And also somehow—I thought about it again and I was like ‘what the hell am I doing?’ 

So you actually don’t know? Your silent conversation is suddenly interrupted by Undyne, who suddenly sticks her arm out to stop your momentum. You hadn’t realized that you nearly walked straight into the river.

“Weird.” She says, bending down to look at the water and dipping a finger in it. “The river person is usually here.” The fish monster sounds a lot more…subdued than you’re usually used to. 

“WELL, THE RIVER PERSON USUALLY PATROLS THEIR STATIONS AT SNOWDIN AND HOTLAND AS WELL.” Papyrus walks up to the riverfront, peering into its depths for…some reason. “I GUESS WE HAVE TO WALK TO HOTLAND INSTEAD.” 

“I’d usually agree, but we are kind of on a time limit here.” Undyne huffs and kicks a rock angrily into the water, where it falls with a pathetic splash. “Of all the days…” She growls. 

“…Are we, though?” You offer timidly. “I don’t think there’s any time limit. So far, the only thing that has been affected by Sans’ disappearance were your memories of him.” 

Undyne scowls. “The faster we find him, the faster we fix this! Duh!” 

“THERE’S NO USE STANDING HERE THEN!” 

“That…is true.” Undyne grudgingly admits. “Come on, then!” She turns and starts jogging down the path. Papyrus quickly follows, leaving you—curse your short legs—to hurriedly sprint to catch up. Seeing your struggles, Papyrus backtracks and scoops you up easily, quickly catching up to Undyne.

“UNDYNE! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” He calls as Undyne starts veering off the path. 

“A shortcut!” She bellows back, not stopping. “We have all those goddamn puzzles set up on the main road—this way is much—AAUGH!” You hear muffled cursing and a loud thump as she disappears through the tall grass. “SANS!”

“DID YOU FIND MY BROTHER ALREADY? WOWIE, THAT WAS FAST!” 

“NO!” Undyne howls. “He trapped this place!"

You hop off Papyrus’ arms and carefully walk over to the pit that Undyne had fallen in. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes. Fine.” She grumbles, then leaps out of the pit in one graceful move. “I assume it was Sans, considering the very obvious ‘sans wuz here’ written on the bottom of the pit. Was he a prankster?” 

You look down the hole, and upon seeing the words, giggle. Then Undyne’s words sink in. She still talks like Sans is a complete stranger, although they’ve been talking about him long enough that even the most forgetful would remember at least an inkling of who he was. Is, you correct yourself. So either the memories are buried deeper than this, or they’re just. 

Gone. 

Papyrus scoops you up again and jumps over the pit easily, landing on the other side. You look down at the pit, at Sans’ badly painted face smiling up at you. If he was forgotten, and you assume that his name has been taken off of any records too, how are his traps still here? 

In the house, too—that lone sock was still on the floor, as well as the sticky notes. You hadn’t paid much attention to the writing, but you can only assume all of Sans’ messages are gone. 

It reminds you of a time before, during another “run,” as you call it. A “neutral run,” as Chara calls it. There was this odd monster…

Speaking of which, Chara has been strangely silent. The other two are very much not. As they walk down the path, (Undyne treading very carefully through grass longer than half an inch,) Papyrus talking about whatever seems to come to his mind and Undyne begrudgingly listening, having nothing else to do.

They arrive in Hotland—surprisingly quickly, considering how long and winding your usual path is—right at the entrance of the lab. You note that there’s still a save point there. 

Undyne suddenly stops in her tracks. Is she…blushing? 

I forgot she likes Alphys! Chara speaks up gleefully, and suddenly. Oh, this will be so funny. 

You cringe. Whenever Undyne and Alphys have met in the past, it’s always been so awkward, mostly because you were third-wheeling the entire time the two lovebirds get to know each other. On the other hand, playing matchmaker was fun, and the end result was very worth it. Chara snickers, and it takes all your willpower not to follow their lead at Undyne’s expression.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP?” Papyrus asks, confusedly glancing between the fish monster and you trying to hold in a massive grin. 

“Nothing.” You manage. There’s a knot growing in your chest with the effort to Not. Laugh. Stop it! You demand, which only makes the ghost laugh more. You think your ribs are going to crack from the effort. 

Papyrus gives you his infamous side eye. “…IF YOU’RE SURE, HUMAN.” 

You nod frantically, desperately trying not to catch Undyne’s eye. If you do—well, you’re determined, but your willpower will break some way or another. And you really don’t want to offend the fish monster that you technically just met. 

Gesturing to Papyrus to hurry up and open the door, you heave a gusty breath. Thankfully, the urge to laugh goes with it and you walk up to the now-open door. 

“DR ALPHYS?” You hear the skeleton call. “ARE YOU HERE? WE HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT THAT WE NEED YOUR HELP ON! ALSO I NEVER THANKED YOU FOR THAT PUZZLE, SO THANK YOU!” 

A crash and a high pitched squeak sounds from the floor above, and another domino effect-sounding group of things that are probably smashing onto the floor comes from the room above—Alphys’ room, you remember from previous runs.

“S-sorry!” A high, reedy voice calls from atop the weird escalator thing. “I’ll be with you in—” Another crash. “—In a m-minute!”

You look at Undyne. Her blue skin is slowly turning into a shade of red, and she is staring hard at the wall opposite to you, avoiding eye-contact. 

Another moving ramp activates, and footsteps pitter-patter down it until they suddenly stop. You turn to see the yellow dinosaur stop in her tracks, eyes wide. “O-oh!” Her already high voice goes up another octave as she sees who’s standing there. 

Chara snickers as Alphys blushes. At least there’s no roleplay this time. They remark. Although I don’t think she looks very presentable. 

Indeed, Alphys looks like she just woke up and hadn’t slept for days at the same time. Her glasses are askew, as if she had put them on in a hurry and she’s still in her nightclothes. “U-Un-Undyne! A-and Papyrus! And—” She stops mid sentence and stares at you, wary but excited. “A-are you…?”
“Hi.” You say. “We need your help.” 

“M-me? Of course! What c-can I do for you?” 

Papyrus steps forwards. “WE ARE LOOKING FOR MY BROTHER. I WAS WONDERING IF YOU KNEW WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?” His expression is hopeful. 

“You have a brother?” Alphys squints at him blearily. The skeleton’s face drops—as much as his bony face is able to, and Alphys’ eyes widen in alarm. “N-no! I-I mean—I didn’t mean to be rude, but…” She trails off as Papyrus forces a smile.

“IT’S OKAY. IT WOULD SEEM THAT HE’S GONE THROUGH…SOME SPACE-Y TIME-Y…THING, AND NOW HE’S GONE. AND NO ONE REMEMBERS HIM EXCEPT,” he looks at you. “THE HUMAN CHILD. AND ME.” He adds if it’s an afterthought. 

“Oh.” Alphys suddenly seems a lot more awake. “‘S-space-y time-y’ thing? W-what does that mean, exactly?”

You nod, then you curse yourself for nodding at a non-yes-or-no question. “A void.” You offer. And you really don’t know how else to explain it. “Do you have…notes or something from the previous royal scientist…?”

“T-the previous Royal Scientist?” Alphys squeaks. “I-I don’t e-even know who—wait. Do you know who the previous Royal Scientist is?”

You shake your head. “But, does it seem like things are…missing…or gone? Like there should be more but there isn’t?” 

“Y-yes, actually. The CORE…I-I don’t know who built that, there are books and m-machines here that are not credited to-to anyone, and…” Alphys trails off, thinking furiously. “Are you saying the previous Royal Scientist is–is just gone? Erased from all the records? How?” 

You shake your head. This entire thing is just one big guess, made off a single hunch you had from a previous run. There was this weird bird, that seemed like it was just…melted into the ground; stuck there, unable to move. It was greyscale too, and bent over kind of weirdly as if its back was broken. That wasn’t really important to you at the time.

What was important was what it had said. 

I understand why ASGORE waited so long to hire a new Royal Scientist. 

It had talked without moving its beak, with simultaneously wavering yet smooth, controlled tones as if it was reading off a script that it had never read before. 

The previous one…Dr Gaster.

The CORE, the only source of power that the monsters use in the entire underground. Asgore was alive before they were sealed down here…the CORE had to have been built after…but by who? This “Gaster?” Surely, Asgore would’ve known who built it and told Alphys…but he didn’t. 

His brilliance was irreplaceable. 

You had theories before, but had never really thought about it for this long. Now you find yourself digging up old, old memories that you may as well have forgotten about.

However, his life…was cut short. 

Could the same thing that happened to this mysterious doctor…have happened to Sans? Did this Royal Scientist also have had a run in with the Void, or the Save Screen? Maybe both…maybe something entirely different?

One day, his experiments went wrong, and…

Well, I needn’t gossip.

The bird at that point had fallen silent, and it had taken a lot of pushing to get them to continue. After that, it had moved, and made direct eye contact with you and you’d felt your heart; your SOUL, was just empty. Hollow. 

After all…

It’s rude to talk about someone who’s listening. 

Every attempt to get the bird to say more just resulted in them repeating that last sentence over and over again until you decided to just leave the matter alone and left. Later, you came back to find them gone.

“SANS USED TO WORK SOMEWHERE AROUND HERE, BACK WHEN WE WERE LITTLE. HE HAS A BUNCH OF SCIENCE-Y THINGS IN HIS BASEMENT.” Papyrus takes out the key from a pocket…somewhere. “WE WERE HOPING YOU CAN FIGURE OUT WHAT THAT MACHINE IS THAT’S IN THERE.” He opens his hand and the key disappears. How?

Alphys looks doubtful, but she nods anyway. “I-I can try. No guarantees.” 

“Another thing.” You say. “The DT extractor? You said that you didn’t design it.” 

“I said that? W-when? I-I don’t remember having talked to you…a-actually you do look a little familiar.” You frown. Usually the scientist had a camera tracking you, but the tv against the wall isn't on at all. “D-do I know you…?” Alphys asks, fidgeting with her tail nervously. 

“You might’ve.” You mutter. 

Alphys glances at the elevator. “H-how do you know about the DT extractor? You’re right, I didn’t d-design it. The blueprints were lying in one of the r-rooms. A-and there was this s-strange handwriting, a-almost like a different language…” 

“DIFFERENT LANGUAGE?” Papyrus, who was previously barely paying attention to the conversation—wondering what’s wrong with Undyne, most likely—now shifts his full attention onto you and the Royal Scientist. 

Alphys looks up at the unreasonably tall skeleton. “L-like—more like pictures than l-letters. It was messy, too. The letters are so complicated, but whoever writes them needs to write them quickly. I-It seems…really inconvenient, actually.” 

“I’VE SEEN IT USED IN THE BASEMENT ONCE.” Papyrus looks very intrigued. “WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS TEXT?” 

Alphys flushes and you know she’s thinking about the other lab. The True Lab, Chara says stubbornly. 

…The True Lab. You correct yourself. Chara lets out a satisfied hum. 

The lizard scientist glances at the bathroom—well that’s what she had called it the first time. Papyrus notices, and also looks over at what is very obviously an elevator.

“IS THERE MORE OF THE LAB THAN THIS?” Papyrus walks over. “I ALWAYS WONDERED—”

“No!” Alphys stumbles as she runs to intercept him. “I—you can’t—!” 

“It’s okay.” You feel the need to step in. “They’ll understand.” 

Alphys looks at you with wide, terrified eyes, and you feel bad for even thinking that she would be okay with this. “W-wha—h-how do you k-know…?” She stammers. 

You look at her seriously. “The Amalgamates; you call them that, right? I know about them—” Alphys’ wide eyes are filling with tears and she claps a hand over her mouth, making you feel terrible about what you just said, “—and I know that you didn’t mean it.” You soften your voice, but Alphys is shrinking back, eyes darting to find the nearest exits. “But we need to see the lab; maybe we could find answers.” 

“They’re going to hate me.” The scientist whispers, stumbling backwards. 

Papyrus, bless his kind heart, immediately backs away from the elevator. “WE DON’T HAVE TO DO IT NOW, IF YOU DON’T WANT. I DON’T WANT YOU TO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE.” 

“N-no, no, you’re looking for your brother, r-right?” Alphys sniffles. “S-Sans? I-If I c-can help, then I s-should.”

“Please.” You say. You know you’re being kind of pushy, but you can’t help it. You’re determined to figure this out. 

Alphys sighs. “A-alright.” She looks dejected as she leads them towards the elevator, which slides open. “C-come on in.” 

Papyrus looks apprehensive, but steps forwards anyways. And then he stops and looks around. “WHERE’S UNDYNE?”

Yes—where’d she go?!  

You—from where you were studying the buttons—turn around in a panic. Papyrus is right—Undyne is no longer blushing silently in a corner. You turn and pad around to where you know the lab opens out to the rest of Hotland to take a look, but the fish monster is nowhere to be seen. Papyrus is similarly checking where the three of you had come from. He turns, looks at you and shakes his head.

“SHE’S NOT HERE…” He says. “HEY!” He calls out to the rest of the Underground. “UNDYNE! YOU CAN’T JUST DISAPPEAR LIKE THAT; THAT’S SANS’ JOB, YOU SILLY GOOSE!” 

“O-oh no.” Alphys mumbles from directly behind you. You jump. That dinosaur can be quiet when she wants to be, damn. Chara sounds equally startled. Normally, she’s knocking over everything in her path. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

“I-I think I know where she went.”

Suddenly, as if on cue—and if you guessed who’s going to show up correctly, maybe it is on cue—the floor rumbles menacingly. Then, the entire building shakes as a large chunk of the wall blows out of its usual place, and lights lower from the ceiling

Smoke billows out of the hole as two figures appear from within the cloud. 

“Oh, yes, darlings!” A metallic voice rings out from the hole. 

Chara groans so loudly and suddenly that you nearly jump a foot in the air. 

Why does it have to be him? 

Chapter Text

The last few weeks have been the most peaceful since Sans had come into this dimension. It’s actually been so peaceful that he’s starting to get suspicious. Unless a small miracle has happened and no other tragedies are going to occur (which, in a land of gods and aliens and technology, should be effectively impossible) the universe seems to be playing a practical joke on them. Like a calm before the storm kinda thing. He has a feeling that something big is about to happen. 

However, Sans had learned long ago not to listen to his gut. And as a skeleton, meaning he has no literal gut to speak of, not trusting figurative guts seems like a good idea. 

School has been…alright. He gets the most enjoyment out of lunchtime, ‘cause that’s where MJ is. She’s been trying to spy on them a little more discreetly—not that it fools Sans. You can’t discreetly spy on a master of discreet spying. 

He flicks his eyes over to MJ’s table, which is on the other side of the room. She pretends to be focused on her food, but the moment Sans looks away, he can feel her gaze on him. 

Smirking to himself, he makes a pantomime of a huge yawn, then watches as MJ does too—unable to stop herself in time. He grins at her cheekily to which he gets a scowl back. 

Peter and Ned rush in from one of the hallways, the latter excitedly clutching a piece of paper. “Sans!” Peter calls as he slides in beside him. “I got news!” 

“really? you bought ice cream?” 

Peter opens his mouth—no doubt to spew some exciting things—when he processes the words. “…What?”

Sans grins. “heard you had a scoop.” 

“…Really?”

“I could go for some ice cream.” Ned adds unhelpfully. Peter shoots him a look, then sets the paper on the table and smooths out a wrinkle from where he was gripping it so hard. He points at it dramatically and looks over at Sans, who has made no effort to try to read the paper from his leaned back position on the bench. 

“looks like paper.” He observes. 

“There’s a school trip coming up.” Ned explains in an effort to save Peter from more suffering. “To some museum of art or something.” 

Peter sighs. “You make it sound boring.” 

Ned looks extremely surprised, as if that fact is obvious—which it is. “It is boring. It’s a museum.” 

“i wasn’t under the impression that you like art.” Sans finally reaches over and takes the paper, giving it a half-hearted glance before setting it back on the table. 

Peter looks like he wants to sigh again. “It means, we don’t have to do any school.”

“hmm.” Sans says. He doesn’t elaborate.

“Is that all you have to say?” Peter demands indignantly.

“pretty much.” 

“Wow.”

And so ends that conversation. The bell rings, as if on cue, and the rest of the day continues; just like any other day.

  The three of them decide to have a “nice stroll around town,” as Peter puts it, after school ended, when in reality the only reason Peter’s doing this is because he wants to check out places that he’s unfamiliar with to “be able to solve crime better.” 

Very eloquent, that kid is. 

So here they are, strolling about town, currently in the area he has deduced as being called “Middle-of-absolutely-nowhere Street” in the “Somewhere-in-the-country Neighborhood.”

In short: he has absolutely no idea where they are. It’s a very fancy place however; full of massive stone carved buildings that were supposedly built at least two centuries ago. And apparently that’s several generations for humans. 

Impressive considering the shortest lived monster still lives about 70-80 years (and by that he means Moldsmals,) and that most monsters have long lifespans. The fact that humans could populate and die so quickly is baffling to him. 

He studies the architecture. Some of the designs—interestingly enough—seem to correlate with a lot of the buildings in New Home. There’s the same stone pillars; the arches with capstones; the similar looking windows, although the Underground ones are a lot simpler. 

There’s this one slightly more impressive building he sees right as they turn the corner. There’s a very large set of double doors and a very fancy looking brass panel sitting right next to it. 

What’s more interesting is the magic hanging in the air around the place. 

It feels…like the Underground. 

He hadn’t realized how much he misses the feeling of a magical place until now. “Sans?” Peter calls from behind him. “What are you doing?”

He turns to look at the other two. “look at this place.” He says. “creepy, imposing, yada yada. we should go in.” 

The other two hesitate, but—probably cursing their incessant curiosity—they agree, just as Sans had hoped. They walk up to the door with Peter grumbling, “if we get arrested for trespassing, I’ll blame you, Sans.”

“and if we get arrested, i can just shortcut us out.” Sans agrees. 

Ned reaches for the door. “You better. And erase the criminal record while you’re at it.” He pushes it open and it does so incredibly silently. Behind it is a massive, fancy schmancy staircase leading up to several more floors. There are polished wood walls and flooring, incredibly noisy but still elegant wallpaper, ornamental lights—in short, fancier than Asgore’s palace could ever dream to be. 

Peter stares in awe. Then his expression turns worried. “What if we just broke into the richest person’s house in the city or something? We’d be screwed.”

“And you would be still,” a voice comes from one of the story balconies. “If i didn’t recognize one of your group.”

 And cue master of dramatic entrances: the source of the voice leaps off of either the fourth or fifth floor balcony, cloak flapping, and free falls, feet first, all the way down, coming to a controlled float and landing straight in front of them.

Sans recognizes him immediately.

“heya, stranger things.” Sans says with a grin. “nice cape.”

Indeed, it seems like the man’s wardrobe had gotten an upgrade since the last time Sans had seen him…what, months ago? He’s lost track. When before he had been wearing some kind of trainee uniform—albeit extremely tattered—he’s now wearing fancy blue robes made of a thick, expensive-looking fabric, paired with a contrasting magic crimson cape and a schmancy magic necklace.

“Stranger Things?” Peter asks incredulously, inching away from the man nervously.

Dr. Strange pinches his nose irritably. “I’ll have you know my name is definitely not ‘Stranger Things,’ thank you very much.”

“i pride myself on ruining dramatic entrances.” Sans quips. Strange sniffs in displeasure, smoothing a hand over his robe.

Ned looks back and forth at the two. “Who’re you? And how do you know Sans?”

Strange looks at him in surprise, as if he had forgotten that Ned was standing there. “My name is Dr. Stephen Strange.” He introduces himself needlessly formally. “I met Sans in this… place on the other side of this goddamn planet. What and how he’s here now is something I do not know.”

“How—” Peter starts to ask, before stopping and seemingly realizing an important piece of information. 13 letters: teleportation. “—nevermind. Hi, I’m Peter. This is Ned. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The rest of the introductions are ones that Sans completely ignores as he’s immediately distracted by a pulse of magic that feels suspiciously similar to his own from upstairs. He sends his magic senses upwards to find three doorways/portals at the back of the building. The grumpy man from the library seems to have traveled from…somewhere else to here using these seemingly magic portals. 

He does a tiny CHECK on them and notes the spiraling network of pathways that these doors seem to be able to travel, and the fact that they feel a lot like his shortcuts.

“Stephen!” He hears the man call, then cuts off the connection to watch Strange glance up at the staircase. 

“Wong?” He answers irritably, then he runs up the stairs, taking them three at the time and seemingly forgetting that he has a cloak that lets him fly.

Sans smirks at the other two. “wanna see what’s going on?” Without waiting for an answer, he opens a shortcut and discreetly teleports behind one of the cases in a corner of the room. On the other side, Strange and that other man—Wong, Strange had called him—are arguing about…something.

“We can’t risk the safety of the Sanctum over a warning!” Strange argues. He is staring Wong down, but the other man isn’t backing off. 

“If we stay here, there may not be an Earth left to defend!” Wong insists. 

Strange scoffs. “He can’t be that powerful. I see no reason to send me, the only defender of the New York Sanctum, into a death sentence over a single warning.” 

“He’s going after the infinity stones.”

“I—” Strange stops. “What.”

“You see? That’s—”

“You couldn’t have started with that?! How many does he have right now?”

“One.” Wong hesitates. “Maybe two if he manages to get the Tesseract.” 

Strange sighs. “Fine.” He throws up his hands. “Fine. Just get me to save the world again, why don’t you.”

Infinity stones? Sans doesn't claim to know Strange very well, but with the few glimpses he’s had of the man’s personality, anything to stop him in his tracks this quickly sounds really, really bad.

“Alright.” Strange grumbles. “Where’s Banner now?”

“I can go get him.”

“You do that.” And with that, Wong steps through the middle portal and hurries off. Strange whips around—cloak flapping dramatically as he does so—and glares straight at Sans, who apparently isn’t doing a very good job staying hidden. “You. How did you get in here; I locked the door!”

Sans glances back at the heavy-looking wooden door. “you did? i didn’t notice.”

Strange points at the door with an irritated sigh and the keyhole spins with an odd-sounding crunch. Then he raises an eyebrow as it swings open to reveal Peter and Ned crouched behind it. Peter looks at Strange with a sheepish expression, then looks at the keyhole. “Um.” He says. “The keyhole ate my pick.”

Strange looks up at the ceiling as if contemplating his life choices, then flicks a finger. The used-to-be-functional-as-a-lockpick flies out of the keyhole and drops onto the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“We were following Sans after he…left.” Ned stands up and dusts his clothes off. “Uh. Sorry.”

“What did you hear?” Strange demands indignantly. 

Sans smirks at the two sheepish-looking boys. “locks like they’ve already had their pick of information.” He remarks, leaning casually against a pillar that’s wider than he’s tall. Which isn’t very tall, now that he made that comparison. “lotta doors have already been opened for them. you might as well tell us the rest…eh?”

Strange grumbles and glances at the door as if Wong’s just going to walk in and save him. “Wong’s going to kill me if I put a couple of children in danger. This is dangerous stuff, you know.” He warns.

“But—Mr— Dr Strange?” Peter’s eyes are alight with the sound of adventure. “I could help! I’m—”

“—Spider Man, yes I know.” Strange grumbles irritably. (“How—?” Peter asks, shocked.) “That does not excuse the fact that you are children. Speaking of which—” He takes another look at the portal. “You should go now,” said Strange abruptly. He ushers them out of the room. 

“Wha—?” Ned asks. “We just offered to help and you’re just kicking us out?”

“Yes, yes.” Strange says impatiently. “I’m sure you could help.” (He says, with the air of a liar.) “Unfortunately, I am not in the business of endangering kids; I’m sure you’ll understand. Now go.”

“But—” 

Strange waves a hand and with a sudden shift and the feeling of the floor moving under their feet, they find themselves disoriented and back at the entrance. “Ugh.” Peter stumbles and grabs onto a wall for support. Next to him, Ned gags. “That feels nothing like your teleporting, Sa—” He suddenly claps his hand over his mouth, but the damage has been done. 

The sorcerer rounds on Sans. “You can teleport?” He demands.

Sans winces. “ah, jeez. i wouldn’t put it like that, exactly…” 

“So that’s how you got into the room. I was sure my lock could’ve held you out; or at least I would’ve heard you open it…” Strange muses. “I’d ask you how, but I doubt you’re gonna give me a straight answer, even if you answer.”

“finally, someone understands the gravity of the situation.” Sans steals a glance at Peter, who looks embarrassed. He grins at the two. “straight answers don’t fly well with me.”

Footsteps pound from the foot above and Strange sighs. “Ah, I forgot about him. You three, get out of the Sanctum.” He orders. The sorcerer's visage blurs and he disappears. 

“I really screwed this.” Peter apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“no biggie.” Sans grins at him. “the only loss here is the pranking opportunities, but considering i can still get you, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Ned slumps against the wall, still holding his stomach. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I really prefer your teleportation over that guy’s.”

Sans laughs. “you’re really warming up to me.” He teases.

Chapter Text

Despite Strange’s multiple warnings, they decide to stay for a while longer to see what exactly is going on. A third person was introduced into the mix: a grey-haired man wrapped in a simple robe and sporting a worried expression. There’s something inherently… green about him—that being the best Sans can describe it, but he ultimately shoves that thought away for later. 

He and Peter are both crouched on a conveniently placed ceiling beam right above the portal doors (Ned had to go home because his Lola was getting worried so Sans took joy in teleporting him back home without warning) watching three grown men argue. 

Strange hadn’t noticed them yet, too busy talking to the man. “Are you sure he’s coming to earth next?”

“Where else could he go? There are two stones on one planet; of course he’d be here!” The man says, agitated. 

“And two more somewhere else in the universe.”

Wong snorts. “The location of the soul stone is completely unknown; I doubt even his sources are that good.”

“And for the other one?” Strange presses, to which Wong shakes his head. 

“My sources aren’t that good either. I have no idea.”

“The point is,” the other man interrupts impatiently. “You need to contact the rest of the Avengers.”

Strange raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying that we aren’t capable of stopping this ourselves?”

“I’m saying, he is not to be underestimated! He took out Thor, Loki and the Hulk while in possession of only one stone. He’ll have at least two by now! Think of what could happen if you fail to protect the Time stone, and if he gets his hands on the other one.”

“Fine.” Strange grumbles. He does his swirly hand motions and a portal forms. The three step through and it disappears. 

Peter looks over at Sans. “Do you know anything about—what did he call it…infinity stones?”

“never heard of em.”

“Well. That’s great.”

Sans shrugs. “what do you say we follow them?”

He’s fairly sure he can track where that portal had led just moments before. Those things leave a faint trace of magic every time they appear; it’s fair to assume that happens on the other end as well. He has experience tracking magic through different areas, although if they had traveled anywhere farther than the size of the Underground, he may have a harder time doing so. 

“…How? They stepped through a literal portal,” asks Peter, squinting at the spot the portal had been as if it would reappear. Sans shrugs again with a grin, pointing down at that exact spot. 

“magic.” He says as if this entire thing is a joke that he’s repeated many, many times before. Which he has. Minus the part about it being a joke. 

“Of course.” Peter sighs. He looks at Sans expectantly, tensing up, clearly bracing for a sudden change in surroundings. So much for scaring him with a sudden teleport. 

Sans reaches out with his magic down to the portal location and finds a single…tether, connecting this place with another. He wraps his magic around it and opens a shortcut with it.

Peter stumbles as they appear directly in front of the headquarters that they had been in just weeks before. Luckily, the group seem to have just entered the building, their backs turned on them from what Sans can see through the glass doors. 

He grabs Peter’s arm and creates another shortcut, this one leading inside the main lobby. Contrary to previous…mishaps, he’s pretty good at staying hidden when he wants to. This time he makes sure to have extra precautions since Strange had found him out so quickly the first time. 

The three of them seem to be waiting for someone. Soon, Stark steps out of the elevator with a confused expression. They talk for a bit, then Wong does some magical…stuff and Sans sees images of the infinity stones. 

They look…not that impressive, to be honest. 6 little rocks of different colours: red, purple, blue, green, orange, yellow; they look like the tacky little decorations that would sell at thrift store.

The way they talk about them though…definitely not something to underestimate. 

“Each stone pertains to one aspect of the universe.” Wong says; the magic-hologram images of stones spinning slowly in a circle above him. “The Reality stone—” The red rock flies over in front of Stark. “—the Mind stone—” Yellow. “—Space—” Blue. “—Soul—” Orange. “—Power—” Purple. 

“—And Time.” He finishes, and gestures to Strange, letting the final stone, the green one, come to rest in his hand. “We have two of these on Earth. Two, on a single planet. Which means this will be where he strikes next.”

Stark grunts, clearly irritated from Wong skirting around having to say the name. “Who?”

“Thanos.” Strange says gravely. 

“Hmm.” Stark frowns. “And you say he’s from space? Is this in any relation to those Chitauri aliens that attacked a few years ago?”

“The Masters of the Mystic Arts weren’t involved in that incident.” Wong informs. “Our philosophy says that we protect Earth from magical and spiritual forces. The others deal with the physical threats.”

“Then why step in now?”

“This counts as both.” He says simply.  

Stark sighs heavily and looks over to the other man, who’s crouched in a corner, looking nauseous. “Banner?”

He looks up. If Sans isn’t hallucinating, a part of his neck does seem to have a green tinge. “—Fine. I’m fine.” Banner mutters between clenched teeth. 

“Wha—” Strange never gets to finish his sentence, as right this moment, something thuds down into the ground, shaking the entire building. A vase wobbles and crashes in the aftermath of the shockwave. 

The group rushes outside. Peter now grabs Sans and runs after them, making no effort to stay hidden. Strange looks back, hearing their footsteps, and scowls when he sees them. 

He says nothing, however, as someone else starts talking first. 

A surprisingly calm voice, commanding and controlled. “Hear ye, hear ye.” It says. “Come and rejoice, as you are about to die at the hands of the Children of Thanos.” Two silhouettes emerge from the billows of dust: one tall and thin and the other huge, a hulking mass of armour and muscle, holding an axe-like weapon.

Banner mutters a curse under his breath and grimaces. Wong and Strange form strange-looking magic…shields? Weapons? Peter moves closer to Sans, as if to protect him. Tony just walks up and glares at the purple-grey aliens accusingly. They stare back; impassive, as if waiting for something. 

“Banner.” Stark says out of the corner of his mouth. “This would be a good time to…you know.”

“He’s not cooperating!” Banner says, panic written all over his face. Sans looks at him questioningly and Banner does a double-take, looking at him and Peter. “Wha—?

“Hand over the Time Stone, and no one will be hurt.” The thin one intones. “We—”

“I’m sorry.” Stark calls at them. “Earth doesn’t accept extraterrestrial tourists; kindly shove off!”

The thin one blinks, thrown off its rhythm. It regards Stark with disdain, then sweeps its beady eyes over the rest of their ragtag group. 

Sans also looks over. He can appreciate the alien’s point of view. One annoying man staring it down, another two holding weird glowing circles as if they’re at a circus or something (do they have circuses wherever they came from?), another man that looks like he’s about to throw up, one disguised skeleton (not that they would know that) and a teenager. 

Probably not the intimidating Earth defense they were expecting, unless they were expecting something this bad. 

The thin one has magic— that he can tell. The tall one seems more…physical, although there’s an aura of strength about him, one that reminds him of Asgore. Boss monsters. A less magic, more physical boss monster. 

They both don’t feel very…monster-ish though. At least not in the way Sans is familiar with. But then again, he’s not very familiar with space creatures, considering most of the time he was underground. 

The alien raises its hand in the air, curling its fingers slowly. From what Sans can see through his magical senses, waves of pale magic wrap themselves first around the hand, then shoot towards the wreckage. A damaged car and a chunk of concrete lift into the air in what’s probably supposed to be a threatening action. 

“Very well.” It says, looking towards its partner. “This will be over quickly.” It nods, and the big one springs into action.

Despite its size, the big one is fast. It slams into Wong, who can barely react in time, raising his shields in retaliation. “Do something!” Stark yells to seemingly no one, before sprinting towards Wong. He hits the glowy thing in his chest and his armour appears as if from thin air. Engines thrum and flames blast from the bottom of his feet and he flies over.

The thin alien advances towards Strange, eyes trained on his necklace. It throws various objects at Strange, who deflects them with his own shields. Peter yells and sprints over towards Stark, who had been thrown across to the other side of the building. 

And Sans…just stands there. None of the aliens seem to be paying any attention to him, which is completely fine with him. He observes the telekinetic alien, who’s attacks seem to just consist of tossing things at Strange. And Strange seems to be dodging just fine, flying with his cloak and dancing around the attacks with ease. 

Finally, the alien growls with frustration when Strange dodges another round of objects and takes off, lifting itself with its magic and flying after him. 

“‘do something.’” He muses to himself. “do what?” He watches as Peter dives into Stark, knocking him away from the large alien’s axe-hammer thing. “not really my style— doing things." The kid can take care of himself; he’d seen that first hand during that fight with bird-dude. That leaves Strange.

The wizard seems to be struggling against the thin one, getting pelted left to right with various things that the alien finds on the ground. He’s currently leading a chase through one of the roads, unable to do anything in retaliation because his spells take so much time to use. 

Well, the glorified rock is what they’re here to get, and Strange does look like he needs help. He supposes he can go make sure Strange doesn’t get impaled or something. Sans sighs, then dusts himself off and shortcuts out, hoping that, in the midst of the chaos around him, no one will notice.

Strange noticed. He’d been noticing a lot of things, all of which seemingly connected to Sans for some strange —pardon the pun—reason. Even in the midst of battling—read: fleeing—from this alien thing, he can see the kid out of the corner of his eye, disappearing and reappearing from building to building. Following him. 

It's hard to wrap his mind around the kid being able to teleport, even though there’s clear evidence basically getting shoved in his face. 

Of course, he has other things on his mind right now. Such as the other source of unfamiliar magic of the alien kind. The alien that’s currently hurling chunks of concrete and dented cars at him with its mind. 

He’s barely managing not to get absolutely flattened, much less having time to form a counterattack. If not for his cloak, he’d be dead by now. 

It doesn’t help that he keeps getting distracted by flashes of white and blue on the rooftops as he and his pursuer go hurtling down the street. 

 Finally, the alien gets a lucky shot in and a chunk of concrete slams into his shoulder, sending him spiraling down into the ground. Immediately, the patch of ground lifts up into the air and pipes surround him, effectively immobilizing him. 

The alien laughs, coming to a floating stop beside him. “Finally!” It gloats, reaching out to grab the Eye. 

A blur of white slaps the hand away. “sorry buddy, reality-bending rocks are 15g each. if you can’t afford it, you can’t have it. i gotta pay bills, ya know.” Suddenly, the kid just appears on the concrete, sitting with his legs swinging over the edge as if he has no care in the world, a wide grin on his face as he looks expectantly at the alien, who looks just about as confused as Strange feels. 

“well?” Sans prompts, sticking his hand out expectantly. The alien sneers at the extended hand. 

“Do not interfere, little one.” It says pompously. “Now, get out of the way, or I’ll be forced to harm you.” It flicks its hand and Strange tenses, expecting the kid to go flying in the air. He and the alien are both surprised—once again—when absolutely nothing happens. 

Sans’ grin grows wider, which somehow makes him more threatening than friendly. “what? something didn’t go according to plan?” 

He disappears in a blink. The alien narrows its eyes, glancing around for where Sans might’ve gone. And just then, Strange’s surroundings change.

Just that—it changed. No momentum, no sudden shift, no lurch in his stomach, unlike his own teleportation. It’s more like…blinking. Like closing his eyes, then opening them to a find himself in an entirely new location. 

He’s lying on the ground, cloak fluttering feebly under him. A white blur stands above him. He squints, and the blur comes into focus. “Kid.”

“heya.” Sans says, grinning. Somewhere to the left, Strange hears the alien screech in frustration. 

He rolls over and stands up, wincing at the multiple bruises along his back and his arms. “…Kid, what was that?” He demands. 

Sans appears to not have heard him, glancing distractedly back over at the street. “the magic rock is really that important, huh?” Without waiting for an answer, he strolls over to peer through two buildings. Another screech. Sans glances back at Strange with a sheepish expression, which quickly turns into amusement.

He steps aside. In a blur, the alien that was chasing him zooms past him straight into the ground, surrounded by dirt and debris—and weirdly enough, light blue light, which flickers and then disappears.

“What is the meaning of this?” The thin alien snarls, floating up into the air, hands curled. “What are you doing?” 

Sans smirks and winks directly at Strange. “someone once said, and i quote, ‘every action has an equal and opposite reaction.’ going off of that, what would happen if i tossed you,” he points up, “into the sky?”

“Foolish boy!” The alien growls. “You think i can’t just—” 

The kid flings his left hand into the air and the alien shoots up into the sky, not slowing down until it’s just a speck in the blue sky. Strange’s mouth falls open as he watches in silence.

Sans makes a gesture that looks like he’s pushing something into the ground. The alien comes shooting back down, slamming down into the ground with the force of a small rocket ship. “looks like you came back down.” He says cheekily. “really makes one see the gravity of the situation. you seem a little more down to earth now. still think you can take the rock?”

“You’re powerful, little one. I’ve made the mistake of underestimating you.” The thin one rasps, climbing out of the crater that was formed when it hit the ground. “Rest assured, it will not happen again.” It thrusts out its hands and for a second, Strange expects nothing to happen again. No such luck, however; rubble and dust explode out into a giant whirlwind, blowing into Strange’s face and forcing him to duck and cover his face.  

By the time the smoke clears, the alien is gone, escaping in the middle of the distraction. Strange coughs the smoke out of his lungs, rubbing his eyes. He looks around. The kid is gone as well. 

His cloak gives him an insistent tug back towards the main road and Strange chuckles ruefully. No matter how many questions he has about that kid, they won’t be answered—if they even will— if he just stands here and does nothing. “Thanks for your help out there.” He tells the cloak, to which it flutters happily, tugging him again. 

“Okay, okay. C’mon.” He says, walking back with long, purposeful strides.

Chapter Text

Tony grunts as he dives towards the ground, narrowly avoiding the axe-hammer thing as it slams into the ground beside him. The kid swings around, clearly trying to help but unsure how. If Tony had a chance, he would’ve told Peter to leave, to stop putting himself in unnecessary danger for his sake. 

“Sir!” He hears the kid yelp, and the kid’s webs shoot past him in a white blur and stick the alien’s hands together, giving him a moment to catch his breath. He coughs as the creature rips the webs off as easily as tearing paper. 

It lunges towards them with a roar, bringing its weapon up for another swing. Tony braces himself; he’s in no position to defend himself on the ground. With a yell, the kid barrels into the alien and knocks him back a few paces.

“Stand back!” A new voice yells, barely giving Tony any time to actually do what it said before a barrage of sharp rocks slam into the alien, making it fall back. He stumbles and looks towards where the rocks came from. 

Wong and Strange, who looks much more distracted than Tony appreciates at the moment, stand on the road grimly. Wong scowls in their direction, summoning a coil of some glowing orange rope. “What are you doing! Stop staring and help!” 

He lashes out with the rope and it grows, lengthening to more than double its original size and wrapping around the alien’s foot, tripping it so that it falls flat on its face. The kid takes advantage of this and swings around, dropping onto the alien with a thump as it tries to get up. It falls again, and Tony aims a blast at its head. 

It ducks, then rolls out of the way with much more agility than Tony had expected, given its size. Tightening its grip on its weapon, it goes in for another swing—

“Enough.” The thin one has returned. It looks haggard, drifting above the ground, its body a mess of scratches. “It seems that we won’t get the Stone here.” It brings its gaze up, where a giant ship is floating, thousands of miles in the sky.

The tall one grunts and takes advantage of the group’s distraction to swing its weapon again. But, miraculously, the kid seems to have caught the weapon, saving Tony from getting crushed again. 

Suddenly, the world turns blue, as if a spotlight has been shined on Tony and he feels himself turning weightless. “Mr Stark!” The kid throws the weapon aside, subsequently nearly throwing the alien off its feet and leaps upwards, reaching for Tony. 

They’re both floating up towards the ship at a rapid pace at this point. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the two aliens zoom upwards and disappear into the mass of machinery. Peter flails below Tony, trying to swim upwards. “When I said that being kidnapped by aliens would be cool when I was watching Extra Terrestrial, I didn’t actually mean it!” He yells, seemingly to no one. 

“Friday.” Tony mutters. “Now would be a good time to tell me that I had installed something that would stop us from being stolen by a giant ship shaped like a donut.” 

“I Can’t Say You Have, Sir.” 

“Goddammit.” He grumbles, activating his blasters. He blasts them at full strength, but only succeeds in putting more distance in between Peter and himself. They are nearing the ship by now, and with no chance of stopping. He points the thrusters upwards and their momentum slows. Peter slams into Tony. 

“Sorry! Huh—?” The kid squints downwards, then gasps, surprised. “HEY! HELP US! OVER HERE!” He yells and waves his arms. 

Tony also looks down and sees the blurs that he assumes is Wong and Strange. He doesn’t know why the kid’s yelling. If those sorcerers could do anything, they could’ve done it a long time ago. 

“The Engines Are Overheating.” FRIDAY warns.

“Curse this prototype suit.” He mutters. As the engines sputter and die out, he feels himself being yanked, as if he’s just a puppet on strings, out of the blue beam of light. Peter yelps as he follows.

Tony flies towards the ground at what might as well be the speed of sound. He’s surrounded by more blue light, although it seems like it's coming from him rather than a spotlight above.

The ground quickly rushes closer and he braces himself for a painful landing; instead, his momentum’s stopped so suddenly that his heart nearly leaps out of his chest.

He and the kid float gently down on their feet and the blue glow dissipates. Tony gawks at the two sorcerers, heart beating so fast he can feel it through every bone in his body. They return his expression; Strange seems to also be looking around suspiciously. 

“You could’ve told me that you could do that.” Tony grumbles after catching his breath and dismissing his suit back inside of his reactor. He checks it for damages, eyes narrowed as he looks at the engines. Thankfully, the problems are easily fixable; he makes a note to remove the problems on his final suit. 

“We didn’t do that.” Strange replies, squinting at the treetops. While Wong looks mostly shocked, Strange doesn’t seem as surprised as he probably would be. More…resigned, if anything. The kid also scans the area, eyes narrowed.

“Then who did?” Tony asks sharply, looking up from his screens. 

“I think—judging by the way he just left like that—that it’s not my place to tell.” Strange says delicately, finally focusing on Tony.

Peter snorts. “Knowing him, he wouldn’t tell whatsoever unless literally held at gunpoint.” He leaps down from the vantage point he’d taken up on a large tree branch with a flip. 

“Can anyone tell me how he just… did that?” Wong asks irritably. “The speed at which that was cast…”

“I think,” Tony states, ignoring the fact that they’re skirting around a name again, “that we should alert SHIELD, the Department of Damage Control and maybe that so-called government.” He frowns. “Maybe not the latter.”

“It would be good to have more numbers.” Wong agrees. He flicks his wrist and the glowing whip disappears. Strange looks over his shoulder at the damage that was caused during the battle and frowns. 

He waves a hand over the large, ancient-looking and honestly quite tacky necklace (no accounting for taste) and the inner mechanisms spin, opening to reveal a green stone. It glows, bathing the place in green and pulsating gently, somehow making the bright sunny day feel slightly ominous. 

Peter stares in wonder at the dark green light and shivers. “I don’t like it.” He declares, leaping up and perching back on that tree branch, at least 9 feet in the air. 

“Get used to it.” Strange raises his hands. Green rings encase his arms and green circles appear in front of his hands, making it look like he’s pressing against them. Turning towards the street, he slowly turns the circle in front, and almost everyone’s expressions turn to one of shock as the street seems to revert back to what it previously was. 

It’s as if someone’s adjusting a camera lens: the street blurs, then clears up, the wreckage disappearing with it. 

Tony stares, letting his suit collect data. No doubt this is some powerful stuff all right, and what they said about Thanos collecting all of them…

He starts typing a message to Happy. 

“Woah.” The kid jumps down again from the branch, landing on both feet deftly. He kicks at a spot on the ground that had previously been a hole and his foot connects with the solid ground. “Forget what I said earlier; that’s kinda cool! Hey, you think you can use that to fix my aunt’s vase? I kinda shattered it by accident a few months ago but I still have all the pieces—thought I would be able to fix it but there ended up being way too many pieces, and I didn’t have glue so I borrowed wood glue from shop class but that didn’t work—”

Strange stops him with a look. “It doesn’t work that way. So no.” He says bluntly, closing the amulet with another wave.

“Oh.” 

“There’s a jet on its way.” Tony announces. “We need to go to SHIELD; tell Fury about this…new development and gather the rest of the Avengers and whoever else is willing to help.” 

Wong sighs. “I should warn the rest of the Sanctums. Strange,” he orders. “Stay with them. You may need to inform them about the Arts.” 

Strange scowls. “‘Become Sorcerer Supreme’, they said. ‘You’ll be the leader; no one will order you around,’ they said.” He grumbles under his breath. He doesn’t disagree, however, and trudges his way over. 

“You’re the Sorcerer Supreme?” Peter asks him as he comes to a stop before them. “Congrats, man!”

Strange offers a tight smile, saying nothing and fingering his necklace. Above them, a jet circles in for a landing.

Aboard Stark’s private jet, Peter scurries around like a lab rat trying to figure out all the cool gadgets and items on board. Happy slouches in the cockpit, occasionally looking back as if something is going to happen and he’s going to miss it. 

Wong and Strange are conferring in a corner with animated hand gestures and Tony glares at them as if they’re doing something wrong.

The necklace on Strange’s chest…it has to be the same one that Sans had seen all those weeks ago. He’d watched it work on that wrecked street, feeling a familiar—yet much fainter—tug in his SOUL as the street reverts back to normal. 

Much easier to miss. Ever since he’d seen the stone, he’d wondered when it would be used again, but he had put it out of his list of problems at the moment, focusing on Peter. It’s more than possible that it was used and had escaped his senses during that time. 

“Sit down and use the goddamn seat belts!” Happy barks at the two sorcerers, who both ignore him completely. “The plane’s taking off!” 

Sans uses the distraction to slip onto the plane, taking a shortcut directly onto a seat in the back. He lays down, hands behind his head, taking up two seats with his legs up on the seat handles, waiting for anyone to notice him. 

“Oh, who am I kidding.” Happy grumbles, turning back to the controls. The plane jerks, nearly throwing Sans off his seats and causing the sorcerers to stumble into each other. Peter, who’s clinging to a wall and therefore completely fine, looks over in awe at the complicated plane controls as the plane starts speeding down the field that acts like a runway. “Taking off! If you crack your head on the back of the plane it’s no longer my problem!”

Tony rolls his eyes, then turns around, mouth open and about to say something when he stops. He stares at Sans, who grins at him. “heya, metal man.” 

Stark sighs and pinches his nose irritably. “…how did you get on the plane?”

“magic.”

“That answer is getting really oLD—” The plane jerks again, tilting 45 degrees and pressing everyone flat against the wall. Except for Tony, who trips and falls on his face, sliding all the way to the back. 

“Seatbelts!” Happy barks again. He yanks the controls and the plane shoots forwards, sending whoever hasn’t already hit the back of the plane (ie. Peter) sliding down the aisle. 

Finally, the plane levels out well above cloud level and everyone stops sticking to the wall. Tony stands up and, rubbing his head and grumbling, levels a glare at Sans. 

“Sans! I was wondering when you’d show up!” Peter bounds up from his sprawled position on the floor and sits next to Sans. “Thanks for ripping us out of that alien beam thing.” 

“no prob. if you had gone into the ship, it could’ve starr- ed up a lotta trouble, ya know?” Sans jokes, brushing the gratitude aside. “can’t have ya going splat on the ground either.” 

Peter shudders. “Please don’t put that image in my head.”

The speakers in the plane screech, causing everyone except Happy (who has headphones on) and Sans (who doesn’t have ears) to slap their hands over their ears. “We are arriving in Washington D.C. in about one hour. Please follow the protocols—actually who am I kidding, nobody’s gonna follow nothing.” Happy says over the speakers. “Please carry on doing whatever it is you are going to do and try not to get killed. Need I remind you that all the rules on planes exist because people have died not following them?” Silence. “Okay, carry on.” The speakers screech again, then fall silent. 

“One hour?” Peter asks Tony. “That's really fast. And illegal.” Sans looks out the window. Indeed, the landscape is speeding past faster than he can even comprehend. 

“What the government doesn’t know won’t hurt them, kid. Much. Word of advice: don’t follow my example.”

The kid shrugs to himself and makes himself comfortable in his seat, taking out a gadget that looks mostly like randomly connected circuit boards and starting to fiddle with them. Sans eyes it, and the rest of the devices on the plane with lazy interest. 

“This is getting old.” Strange announces not even a minute later, walking over to the back. He adjusts his two fingered ring and raises his hands, only to be stopped by a glowing whip wrapping against his arm.

“What are you doing?” Wong asks, an unimpressed look on his stern face. Strange scowls and yanks his arm away. Without answering, he circles his hands. A large blast of magic flows out of the tiny ring and Sans senses it flying towards the front of the plane. 

A second later: “Gah! What the hell is that?!” Happy yells from the cockpit. Sans looks out the window to see an absolutely massive swirling portal whizz past at the speed of sound. 

The plane decelerates so quickly that everyone gets lifted off their feet—save Sans, who’s been using a hefty amount of blue magic to keep himself from sliding the moment the plane had taken off—slamming into the back wall like a bunch of puppets. Almost comically, they slide off the wall onto the ground in crumpled heaps. 

Now that the plane isn’t going at what seems like the speed of light, Sans can see the landscape below. It had changed. Instead of the gray buildings with sharp edges that made up New York, there's a massive city spanning below them with elegant white architecture and little houses. 

The plane flies straight towards the edge of the city, towards a set of buildings that look much more like the ones before. Futuristic and shiny looking, a set of silver letters spell out the word “SHIELD” on the wall.

They circle it twice, then come in for a landing. “Okay.” The intercoms screech again and Happy’s dry voice echoes through the speakers. “It seems that our predicted one hour flight has been turned into less than 5 seconds. Thank you for flying and blah blah blah—wait, why am I even doing this? This isn’t a commercial flight, it’s a private jet. These speakers aren’t even good.” He rants from inside the cockpit, safe from the seething glare that Stark’s trying to give him. 

“Did I just see a plane fly through a massive swirling circle, or are my eyes playing tricks on me?” A deep, accented voice comes from the door, which had opened a crack without anyone noticing. 

Stark takes his attention away from the white, solid door that leads to the cockpit and sighs deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose irritably. “Let’s get this over with.” He grumbles. 

Walking over the door, he yanks it the rest of the way open to reveal a bald man wearing an eyepatch and dressed with an important looking uniform.

“Fury.” Stark greets. The man gives them a wry grin.

“Tony. A little birdie told me that you wanted to talk?”

Chapter Text

Fury leads the group inside. As Peter moves to follow, he suddenly remembers something and stops in his tracks: “Wait a second—where’s that other guy?”

Strange also stops, looks around, and directs his gaze onto Tony. “Banner? We didn’t leave him behind, did we?”
Flippantly waving a hand, Tony continues walking. “He didn’t want to come. Said something about warning the other Avengers and left.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us? We need him to tell his side of the story!” Wong accuses. “How did none of us notice?” Fury looks back towards them with an eyebrow raised. 

“We’ll be fine.” Tony says and gestures for Fury to keep moving. He does, with a slightly confused look on his face. The group turns a corner and Fury stops, placing a hand on a scanner beside a metal door, which opens with a hiss. 

Inside, the room looks exactly like one of the science tech labs that Peter has seen in comics and movies, filled with all sorts of devices, ranging from shiny silver to holographic projections. Well, half of a cool science lab, considering the devices only fill one half of the room. The other half is occupied by an entire mini-bar, with shelves full of different types of alcohol. Couches and tables sit against a wall. There is a nondescript metal door at the back, almost blending in with the wall itself. 

“Fancy place you’ve got here, Fury.” Tony tells him, inviting himself in. He beelines to the couches and sits down. Wong and Strange—with a glance at Fury, who’s just watching them silently—and follow his example, settling themselves on the bar stools. “Really shows how well you get your work done,” he says, waving a hand at the liquor. 

Fury rolls his eyes. His eye? He walks in, grumbling, “Did you really come here to criticize me or did you actually have something to tell me, Tony?” 

Peter scampers into the room and sits down on a bar stool. He peers over the counter. “Oh, cool, a soda gun!” He exclaims. Fury slides behind the counter and leans on it, staring at Tony fervently. 

Wong, Strange and Stark fill Fury in on what had happened while Peter looks curiously around the room. Sans, who at this point hadn’t said a word and is over across the room examining the different gadgets with slightly bored interest, looks over and meets Peter’s gaze. He grins and picks up a small gadget, which fits neatly in the palm of his hand. 

He moves to press a button. 

“—Wha—hey!” Fury admonishes him, storming over to yank the device out of Sans’ hand. “You can’t just walk around pressing random things! There’s government files in some of these instruments!”

“oops.” Sans’ grin seems never ending, and it doesn’t seem to want to drop in any situation. Peter has yet to see him come even close to a frown. “i doubt you would store classified info inside a laser pointer.” He points out. “defeats the point of it, really.”

Fury examines the device. Sleek, white and rounded, it looks much more like a computer mouse than any kind of laser pointer. But still, when he presses the top, a bright blue laser shoots out the front. “Alright, you win this time, kid.” He concedes. “Stop touching things that aren’t yours.”

“gotcha.” 

“Anyways,” Fury says, turning back to the group. “You say you want to check on the Tesseract? Can’t imagine why, it’s safe in the vault over there.” He gestures to the nondescript door, and Strange gives it a disbelieving look. 

“That’s the vault?” He asks incredulously. “Anyone could just walk in there and take it!”

“Believe me, this is one of the most secure government strongholds, on par with Fort Knox and all that. Nothing’s going to get in without permission.”

“Nothing human.” Tony emphasizes. 

And with that somber note, Fury opens the door to reveal…mostly a dark room. A pretty large room with pillars holding different things, shaped like a large, upside down L. Most of the pillars are empty, with a few having objects placed on them. Those pillars are lit up by spotlights above and display a variety of items, including some sort of pointy staff. 

They round a corner, and a pillar at the end of the room is encased in thick glass. Upon closer inspection, it seems to house a large, glowing, blue cube. It pulses, not unlike the time stone, with an ancient power. 

…At the same time, it looks like one of those tacky cubes that you would find in a gift shop somewhere. Peter’s just gonna take the adult’s word that this is important. 

“See?” Fury tells them, slightly irritated. “Right there.”

Peter turns his head to scan the other objects. Only one other pillar on this side of the room is lit, and as he sees what’s on it, he inhales sharply through his nose. 

It’s a trombone. More importantly, it looks the exact same as the one Sans had from that thrift store. “Why is that here?” He asks, and points. 

Fury turns his head, spotting the silver instrument. He rolls his eyes. “Just a trombone, kid. Some shopkeeper called us—very urgently, might I add—to tell us all about this ‘self mending instrument’ and basically swore up and down, on his life, his future kids and his mother that this is ‘magic.’”

A bemused chuckle comes from Sans as he sidles up to it and takes a closer look. “hey, you never know. maybe this is magic.” He pokes it with a finger, and the trombone does…absolutely nothing. Wow, Peter thinks.

Fury snorts and turns away with the air of a snotty adult that’s done playing childish games. Sans winks at Peter before addressing Fury again. “i mean, have you ever tested it?” Fury looks back at him with an eyebrow raised. “you can’t possibly believe that magic isn’t real, with them—” He points to the two sorcerers, “—and that volatile lego piece.”

The Tesseract glows, as if in response to Sans’ description of it. Peter eyes it nervously. “Are you sure it isn’t going to—I dunno, explode and kill us? Because that would be a terrible way to go.”

“as opposed to a good way to go?” Sans quips. “not sure if those exist.” At those last words, his expression shifts, ever so slightly.

“There is no telling what this can do. But, it hadn’t exploded yet, so I think we’re fine.” Fury snarks. He waves his hand over the case and the door opens, picking it up gingerly, as if he’s handling an explosive. 

Sans watches it with an interested and slightly eager expression, as opposed to his earlier interested and slightly bored one. Strange sniffs, unamused. “Are we done?”

“I was under the impression that you wanted to do more than just stare at it.” Fury tells them. 

“‘Under the impression’ and ‘being told’ are two different things.” Tony says. “Are you sure this vault can withstand the power of an infinity stone? No doubt Thanos himself will come eventually.”

Something rustles behind Fury and he turns his head, when a muffled voice comes from the wall.“The master will not have to…if we do the job for him.” Those last two words were spoken behind grunts, as if the speaker’s doing something strenuous. And sure enough, the metal walls stretch and bend. They creak and split very slowly, slowly enough that most people in the room have assumed battle positions by the time the metal cracks. 

A piece of the wall shoots out as if it was shot by a gun, nearly hitting Sans, who calmly tilts his head at the last minute, and hits the nearby wall with the force of a bullet train. 

“You!” Wong yells, forming another one of his whips. He lashes out, only to be stopped midair with a wave of the assailant’s hand. The alien that the group (save Fury) had fought earlier, steps into the room with what only could be described as a smug grin on its face. 

“You’ve done my work for me.” It says, lifting a finger towards the Tesseract, which lifts out of Fury’s hands and into its own faster than anyone can react. “I would thank you…but I think the master would like to come down and do it himself.” 

A web shoots out and connects onto the Tesseract. Four more follow, each connected to one of Peter’s fingers. He wraps his hand around the webs and pulls. 

The cube doesn’t budge. He sends five more webs with his other hand and pulls with all his strength, and to the alien’s, and everyone else’s surprise, the cube is nearly yanked back before the alien snarls and pulls it back.

Wong lashes his whip and helps them pull, when another crash comes from behind the alien and the entire back wall caves in. When the dust clears—very dramatically, might Peter add. No, this isn’t the moment, he scolds himself. And also: wow, my hands are killing me. 

Getting back on track, Peter rubs the dust of his eye with his shoulder to see the other alien that had accompanied the thin one back in New York. Silently, he groans. Why can’t the aliens just save him the trouble and go tell their “master” that they failed or something? Maybe cry a bit; beg for forgiveness, that kind of thing. 

As long as they stop bothering him. SNAP! Well, there goes his webs. He shakes the circulation back into his fingers as he watches the adults try to stop the cube from being taken. 

If Sans was here, he could’ve just magic-ed them away like nothing, as far as Peter knows anyways. 

…Wait. Peter turns his head to see the aforementioned skeleton fiddling with one of the devices. He presses a button and glowing blue strings lashes his hand to the device. Sans grins to himself, then taps the strings with his other hand, causing them to whip back into the container. He pockets the device, then stands up and makes direct eye contact with Peter, grinning innocently. 

Peter just shrugs, having forgotten Sans was even there, and turns back just in time to dodge a chunk of metal that was flying towards his face. Another chunk just so happens to land on the trombone, which is now on the floor, and completely deforms the bell of the instrument. 

“Damn it!” Fury looks, well, furious (haha, funny. Sans is really rubbing off on Peter) as he watches the aliens take off with the Tesseract helplessly. Stark is hovering a few feet in the air, staring up at the giant of a ship that the two aliens are flying towards. He pays the trombone no mind as it rolls pathetically to a stop near his feet.

“It’s too far to follow.” Strange says, dispelling his magic circles. He turns to Stark, raising his voice so that he can hear. “Wasn’t there another Stone that you wanted us to protect?” He asks, calm considering what just happened. 

“Protect?” Fury sputters. “Those things just took the Tesseract from right under our noses! You really expect to be able to keep the other one—wherever it is—from being taken too?”

“We may as well try.” Strange says solemnly. He takes a few steps back as Stark comes in for a landing.

“No point trying to get them from all the way up there. Those things caught us unaware. It won’t happen a second time.” He sneers at the ship as it makes its way up. A few seconds later, the blue atmosphere swallows it up entirely.

Thanos has maybe three stones now. Peter looks over at Sans. Compared to the adult’s reactions, the skeleton looks rather unbothered by the looming threat of the infinity stones. In fact, he looks more amused at the entire thing. 

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t helping with the Tesseract. 

Peter can’t fault him for wanting to be a bystander. He didn’t ask to be dragged into this situation. Or this universe. Even if his powers could be a game changer if he used them.

“Kid.” Stark’s looking at the two of them with a stern expression on his face. “You need to go home. Back to Queens; go fight some petty criminals and all that jazz. We’re going to go protect the stone, and when Thanos eventually shows up, it’ll be too dangerous for you.” 

“What!?” Peter asks incredulously. “Ahem —Sir. I’m not some helpless little kid. I can be useful—just give me a chance!”

“I’m not saying you’re incapable, I’m saying you’re inexperienced.” Stark says sternly, crossing his arms. “And, as Strange said so eloquently earlier: ‘I’m not in the business of endangering children.’ What am I supposed to do if you get hurt?”

“I’ll be fine.” Peter says automatically. “I can be—”

“Useful, yes, we know.” Strange interrupts impatiently. “You’ve told us— multiple times. Now go.” He waves a hand and a portal appears. On the other end, Peter can see his neighbourhood amidst the orange sparks. 

“Hey, what’s really going to happen to the kid?” Wong says. “Quit wasting time talking; we can just shove them in a vault or something.” 

“Them?” Stark questions, before noticing Sans, who’s poking around in more of the devices against the wall. “Oh, right. You’re still here. Fine, you can come, kid. But,” he adds with an urgent tone, staring at the kid grimly, “you have to listen to me, alright? No running off on your own, that’s how people get killed.”

Peter had never felt so accomplished in his life. “Yes, I won’t let you down, sir!” He tells Stark, smiling giddily. And right then, completely ruining what could've been a wholesome moment:

CLANG! The forgotten trombone rolls, just slightly, and hammers itself out. Fury stares at it with disbelief, as does everyone in the room except for a certain grinning skeleton.

Chapter Text

MJ huffs as she scrolls through her playlist on her phone. She’s been thinking about that weird kid again: Sans, what a weird name. Everything about him is weird. His bright white hair, dark eyes, his carefree demeanor, everything about him seems wrong, somehow.

And that offer to work together. She still doesn’t know what that was about, and at this point, she doesn’t think Sans knows either. Aside from a few interactions during lunchtime, he’s done nothing. Strange. 

Well, MJ thinks to herself wryly, another weird thing to add to the list.

Sans is sitting in a chair. In a giant metal flying machine. Hundreds of miles in the air, and going thousands of miles per second. And unlike that last plane he’d been in—and also the first plane he’d been in—unless he’s actually looking out the window, at the landscape blurring as the machine flies past, it’s really hard to tell that he’s actually moving. 

Peter seems enthralled at the landscape under them. His nose almost touches the window as he stares at the sweeping yellow plains and the massive jungles that cover the continent. 

Africa, he’s been told that this place is called. More specifically, they’re going to this country called “Wakanda,” which is supposed to be this “technological wonder of the Earth,” as Peter described to him. 

Apparently the country runs a monopoly on this metal called “Vibranium,” which had fallen from space in this giant meteorite thousands of years ago. The people used it to build technology years ahead of their time. 

And, instead of sharing it to the world, they hid themselves away to the point that most people didn’t even know the country existed until a fiasco a little while ago. That was about the extent of the information that Sans had been told, and now the others were on the end of this plane-thing, talking worriedly with a fierce-looking woman with a shaved head, tattoos and coffee coloured skin. 

"hey, look.” Sans observes. “those trees are flickering.” 

“What?” Peter walks over to Sans’ position and squints at the dense jungle. “I don’t see anything.” 

“see? right there.” Sans says, pointing at the massive patch of trees that were, indeed, flickering like a bad TV, turning blue and transparent once in a while. 

“...No?” 

"huh. maybe those trees just didn’t get the signal.”

The pilot, another woman, turns around to look at them before turning back to the front. “What are you talking about?” She asks, with a distinct accent that involves a lot of rolling r’s. Hey, another thing Sans can’t do, considering the fact that he doesn’t have a tongue.

"those trees.” Sans points. “they’re flickering.”

The pilot suddenly sports a worried expression and she starts tapping on a screen. “Okoye!” She calls without looking up. The other woman walks over, and the two have a short exchange in a different language. 

“You sure?” Okoye asks Sans a second later, looking at the trees and equally as worried. 

“pretty sure. also pretty sure trees aren’t supposed to do that.”

“No, they are not.” The pilot agrees. “But—”

“Are we going into those?” Peter yelps as the plane tilts forwards into a steep dive.

“—those are not trees.” 

Sans watches as the plane passes through the trees and they disappear, revealing a shining city of tall skyscrapers, all made of some sort of metal that he assumes is the vibranium that Stark was talking about. 

“Whoa,” Peter breathes as he takes in the looming buildings, then turns back to stare at what used to be just trees. It just looks like a plain sky now, although Sans can see a faint blue shimmer in the air.

“that makes sense, actually.” Sans muses to himself. Due to what technically is a lack of eyes, most holograms don’t really work on him. They tend to look scratchy and faded, enough so that it’s really easy to tell that they aren’t fake but not enough to actually prevent him from seeing what it’s supposed to be. 

“What makes sense?” 

Ah, so he’d been heard. Time to employ his tried and true deflecting method: he shrugs and grins at the pilot, who had turned back before she could see him. 

So he would have to respond verbally. “...holograms don’t work on me, really.” He settles on. The pilot’s head tilts as she works to land the plane and Sans doesn’t have to see her face to know she’s raising an eyebrow at him. 

Instead of touching down on the ground, the plane dives and levels towards the ground in one smooth motion, coming to a controlled hover about a foot above a ledge. The pilot flicks a switch and a ramp descends through the floor, touching down on the ground. 

They walk into a giant palace, shiny and metallic. The building looks more like several skyscrapers connected with long passageways that spiral out to the rest of the city, connecting most of the structures together into one giant network of train lines and flying vehicles.

So much technology here…Alphys would definitely freak out if she sees this place. 

In the lobby of the building sits a throne. A lean man reclines on it,  smiling with good humor at a younger girl who stands to the side. As soon as they enter the room, however, the man sits up straight, expression shifting to a more serious tone.

“Your Majesty.” Stark says. “I take it that you’ve been informed of the situation here?”

“I have. Your other friends have already arrived.” The man greets. “Welcome to Wakanda.” 

“We thank you for having us on such short notice, King T’Challa.” Strange says stiffly. The room is tense, though not in the assumed “this is a bad situation and we might all die” kind of way. More like…they don’t know how to act. 

The girl shifts as well, seemingly uncomfortable with the formalities. “May I go get the others, brother?”

King T’Challa waves a hand towards her and she slips out of the room. “Please, no need for such formalities.” He tells the group. “That is not our way. T’Challa is fine.” 

“Still seems pretty formal to me.” Peter leans over and mutters to Sans, who huffs a small laugh. 

“Your Majesty!” The king glances over to the side, where the voice came from and winces. “May I present your guests?” The voice has a teasing lilt to it, and T’Challa groans. 

“Shuri, please. Stop.”

And just like that, with a few teasing phrases and banter between siblings as Shuri walks through the door, the tension in the room drops. Stark greets the new people as they walk through the door, most of which Sans recognizes from a while ago. 

“What’s a couple of children doing here?” Sans hears Shuri whisper to her brother. 

“You’re barely still a child yourself.” T’Challa whispers back, distracted. And really, anyone would be distracted when at least three people are trying to talk to you at once. “Can you bring some of them to the lab and explain the procedure? I can not think right now.” 

Sans suddenly senses something behind him and turns around the same time Peter does. Peter gives the view outside the window a calculating glance before turning to Sans. 

“You feel that too?” He whispers, lifting his head to sweep the room with his gaze. 

“weird,” is the only thing Sans responds with. Peter quickly takes another glance outside and jumps back. 

“Did you see that?” 

“see what?

“There was—There was something red! Like a red blur but it was gone before I could take a closer look.” Peter squints at the window.

Sans does too, but whatever Peter had seen earlier has disappeared. He activates his magic and pulls all the souls in the surrounding area into a spectrum only he can see. Nothing, except for the multicoloured souls of the people in the room. 

Whoever, or whatever seems to have left. “...looks like a literal red herring.” He jokes, but the fact that there’s something out there makes him uneasy.

“We can’t count that out yet. We don’t know what that red thing even is.” Peter says, taking the joke a tad seriously. 

“ketchup.” Sans offers. Peter gives a disbelieving snort in response, and Sans grins at him. “excuse me if i didn’t have enough thyme to mustard up a better response. i had thought we were in a pickle there. a real jam, you could say.” 

Peter heaves a dramatic sigh. “Well, if there was anyone there, there wouldn’t be anymore. You probably killed them with your puns.” 

“that was the goal.” 

“I guess we have nothing to worry about anymore,” A grin tugs at Peter’s mouth. “All we have to do to kill that Thanos guy is to put you in front of him and let you go off.”

“sounds like a sound plan.” 

Peter takes another look around the room, which at some point during that conversation had almost emptied, save for the king, who’s deep in conversation with the two sorcerers. And his guards, who’ve been standing all around the room with very pointy looking spears.

Sans strolls towards the group. 

“—volatile,” T’Challa was saying. “It absorbs and releases energy. And while it’s mostly kinetic energy it takes in, we cannot be sure that it wouldn’t absorb any other energy.”

Wong nods. “We underst—”

“whatcha talkin’ ‘bout?” Sans butts into the conversation with a grin.

Strange sighs. “Hello, Sans. I forgot you were still here.” 

“We were just standing next to that abhorrently large window over there.” Peter pipes up, having followed Sans over to the throne. 

T’Challa smiles. “I always liked natural light better than artificial. To answer your question,” he turns to Sans. “I’m sure you’ve heard of how much vibranium is in this city. The special metal can absorb and store kinetic energy, and release it in different ways. Unfortunately, it’s a volatile metal and we aren’t sure if it can do the same with magic, as according to these two, magic is a type of energy.”

“huh. i guess you could say…” Peter elbows Sans before he could say anything else. (And by anything else, he means more puns.)

“Does it absorb and release other kinds of energy? Electric, thermal; maybe chemical?” He asks as Sans opens his mouth again, and shoots him a glare. 

T’Challa frowns. “I’m…not sure. I admit that I’m not well versed in the inner workings of vibranium, and how it can be used in technology. If you want,” he offers, “you can ask Shuri. She does work with vibranium; she’ll have answers.”

“Will she know if magic affects the metal as well?” Wong asks. 

T’Challa shrugs. “You may as well try.” He tells him. The king pushes himself off his throne and straightens his clothes. “I can direct you to the lab.”

And, true to his word, he shows them through winding hallways to a simple door. Peter pushes it open and gapes at what it revealed.

Sans peeks at the room under Peter’s elbows and gives an appreciative whistle. The place is large and circular, brightly lit from every angle. A central pillar has a winding staircase leading up to a second floor balcony thing, decorated with swirling pictures and bright colours.

The walls have screens and holograms spread throughout. Shuri is sitting on a steel table that looks disturbingly like one of those operating tables that Aphys has in the underground labs, if not more futuristic-looking like everything else in this country. She seems to be explaining something to the small crowd of people with an interactable hologram that’s emanating from a large beaded bracelet.

She looks up as they enter. “Don’t touch anything” She calls, which immediately makes Sans want to touch something. Some of these devices look interesting…

He refrains, although it’s extremely tempting. Wong leads the way to the table. “Is it possible?” He asks Shuri, who shrugs. 

“Possible? Definitely. It won’t be quick though. Or safe. No guarantees that you’re—” She points to a floating red guy that Sans distantly recalls seeing before, but doesn’t remember much else, “—going to survive the process at all.”

“Especially with a possible time limit. Thanos isn’t going to wait if he thinks this stone will be an easy grab.” A woman (who’s also very familiar but Sans doesn’t remember the specifics) with a sleek black bodysuit loaded with weapons and red hair grumbles. 

“Yes. Also that.” Shuri agrees. “I can put up a shield around the country. There’s no way anything would get in without a lot of force. But these infinity stones that you told me about probably have more than enough to shatter it easily. Although, we don’t know the effects that they are going to have on vibranium.”

“We should get started then.” Stark says, prompting an amused snort from Shuri.

“We? You know full well I’m the one doing any work. Now shoo; there’s too many people here and I need to focus.” Shuri says, ushering most of the people out of the lab. Only Banner, the red floaty guy, Peter and Sans remain. And, the only reason he and Peter’s still in the lab was mostly because Shuri hadn’t noticed them until she came back from the door.

She sighs when she sees them, but says nothing, quickly pulling up some holograms from her bracelet thing.

"so much for asking questions." Sans mutters to Peter with a grin, who's too busy trying to figure out what's going on to answer.

Shuri directs the red guy onto the operating table and places the beads on his chest.They glow, covering the operating table and Red Guy (Sans has decided that’s his name now; he’s much too lazy to run a full CHECK on him) in a blue holographic film

Chapter Text

Shuri enlarges the stone on the model’s forehead and millions of swirling lines connect the stone to the rest of the body. She stares at it for a moment, then starts delicately manipulating the lines. 

Banner asks something technical and she responds with something else wording and scientific that Sans doesn’t understand. Peter seems to have given up watching altogether and is trying to figure out the technology in the cases next to where they’re sitting.

“What do you think?” Peter asks Sans, who shrugs. 

“depends on what you want my opinion on. i’d say that human-shaped model is probably supposed to be a thing to make stuff human shaped, but who can say, really?” 

Peter grumbles, “you know what I meant.”

“do i?”

“Do you?”

Sans grins at Peter. “maybe i do, maybe i don’t. maybe my don’ts do and my do’s don’t.”