Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The place just outside the Ruins is a stretch of silent snowfall. Pine tress were tall and seemed full of life. Maybe what was inside them gave that illusion. A wooden sentry station leans near the path, half-covered in snow, looking more like an abandoned snack stand. There was a hot dog wrapper fluttering beside it, probably from Sans.

Its peaceful. Too peaceful. A perfect place to greet someone, like a lazy skeleton with too much knowledge and not enough sleep.

The first thing Sans heard were the footsteps.

Soft, hesitant, definitely not monster footsteps.

He leaned against the side of his mostly useless sentry, squinting through the trees as a small figure emerged from the shadow of the Ruins. A child. Human. Striped shirt, weirdly calm expression, which was weird.

As they finally approached, Sans spoke.

„heya.“ Silence. Sans looked at them, then spoke again.

„you're a human?“ The child nodded and said yes, finally giving a reaction. Their voice was small and clear, like they didn't mind talking. But at the same time not saying too much.

„cool, cool.“ Sans said, nodding slowly. „so, you come here often, or is this just a one-time fall-through-a-magic-hole kinda thingy?“ Sans asked, snorting at his own joke.

The human replied by explaining that they tripped over some roots, that's how they fell.

„you tripped on a root? man, nature really woodn't leave you alone huh?“ He let out a short laugh again.

The child didn't smile, but there was a glint in their eye like they got it.

Sans sighed, muttering something under his breath before looking up at the human again.

„so, what's your name, kid?“ The human looked at him for a few seconds before replying.

„frisk huh.. weird name.“ Sans said the last part to himself.

They just started at eachother for a few seconds. Sans sighed and rolled his eyes, even though his eye sockets were empty?

„so, i kinda have to capture you and stuff, but i don't want to, you know? Now my brother Papyrus, he'll try very hard, but he won't get too far if you get me.“

Sans was a bit weirded out by their lack of reaction, he shrugged it off and spoke again. „he tried to act like he could hurt someone, but in reality, he wouldn't even hurt a fly. He'd write it a formal letter to leave politely.“

He laughed shortly again, but Frisk gave no reaction, Sans looked away awkwardly, clearing his.. throat?

The human met Papyrus, and they did some puzzles. As Sans and his brother were waiting for the human at the color tile puzzle.

The dimly grey tiles are laid out as usual. Papyrus stands beside the control panel, full of enthusiasm. Sans leans lazily against the wall, hands in his pocket, his usual expression tighter than usual.

But suddenly, everything blinks. Time warps.

The human had died to some monster, and respawned.

„TODAY I WAS WITH UNDYNE AND WE WERE COOKING SPAGHETTI-„

„-and then you burned down her kitchen. You already told me that.“

Papyrus looked confused, looking down at his brother.

„I DIDN'T TELL YOU THAT, IT ONLY HAPPENED THIS MORNING.“ Papyrus spoke, a little worried about his brother.

„huh? bro, you already told me about that, like ten minutes ago.“ Sans said, feeling a weird sense of dread in his chest.

„ARE YOU ALRIGHT, SANS? YOU'RE ACTING DIFFERENT.“ His brother asked, feeling a little worried, but more weirded out than anything.

Sans stayed quiet for a few seconds, deciding not to worry his brother.

„yea, im fine, i guess it was a lucky guess, huh?“ He said, trying to act normal.

„WOWIE, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE SO GOOD AT GUESSING!!“ Papyrus said, already forgetting about Sans predicting what he meant to say.

„well.. with how often you and undyne burn down her kitchen, you two oughta open a restaurant. Call it 'flambe-bros'“ Sans said, letting out a short laugh at his own pun.

„SANS THAT'S NOT EVEN A REAL NAME!“ Payprus said, already annoyed with the joke. Now Sans was sure that he forgot about what happen.

„sure it is. Just gotta turn up the heat on your marketing.“

„SANS YOU'RE RUINING THE MOOD-“

They both stopped talking as they saw the human enter. Papyrus was explaining the puzzle, Sans just started at them, the feeling of tighteness not going away. Frisk noticed that, awkwardly looking away.

He looks at his brother, really looks, like he's trying to remember the way he stands, the way he talks, just in case next time it's different. Frisk shifts slightly. Still not speaking. Still not reacting. Their face unreadable. But Sans watches closely. He's always watching now. Or perhaps thinking of another bad pun.

Snowdin feels like a storybook, full of cheery people and peaceful energy. Snow never stops falling, but its soft, gentle, like a song. The air smells faintly of cinnamon and snow dust, and everything glows with that quiet, soft light that makes you feel like you're walking through someones memory. Despites its charm, theres a stillness to Snowdin. You might pass Grillbys, warm light flickering through frosted glass, and see Sans souched down at the bar with a ketchup bottle in hand. Or you might see Papyrus marching down the street, chasing his dream by befriending a human.

While the human was in Snowdin, Sans was lazying around in his bedroom. For him, it was nicely decorated, a mattress on the floor, a lamp, a tornado of socks and some other trash. After a while of just laying there, he heard Papyrus enter the house, along with the human.

„AHEM, IF YOU'RE FINISHED LOOKING AROUND, WE CAN GO TO MY ROOM AND START THE DATE!“ Papyrus said, full of energy. Sans was overhearing their conversations and thought to himself. Maybe the human wasn't all that bad after all. He heard Papyrus laugh, while the human stayed mostly quiet.

Sans doesnt smile, not really.

A ticking noise grows louder, the dog-themed alarm clock on his desk buzzes once, then twice, then many times more.

Sans groaned and finally got up. „guess its that time again“ he muttered to himself. He walks ove to grab his jacket, his bones creaking like old wood.

By the time Sans got downstairs, Frisk already left and Papyrus was making dinner, that is, spaghetti. He wanted to see if he could leave the house unnoticed, but failed miserabely.

„BROTHER, YOU'RE LEAVING ALREADY?“ Papyrus asked, wearing his pink apron with a pot of spaghetti in one hand.

„yep. Work calls.“ He said, putting on his pink slippers.

„YOUR 'JOB' RIGHT. STANDING AROUND DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!“ Papyrus said, going back to the stove, where the top of it was already burned.

„bro, i do stuff at my job. i blink, sometimes twice.“ Sans left the house feeling proud of his pun, while Papyrus was already steaming out of his ears.

Sans was at his station close to the waterfalls. Papyrus was wrong, he wasn't standing and doing nothing, he was sitting and doing nothing. Big difference. The air suddenly felt colder and Sans felt a bit uneasy, then he found out why. Frisk was walking by and then went over to him.

„heya, frisk, what brings you here?“ Sans asked, looking at the human, hiding his confusion.

Frisk said that they're trying to get to Asgore where the barrier was.

Sans noticed that the human looked weirded out that he worked here too.

„what, you never saw someone with two jobs? someone has to pay the bills. they say hard work builds character.. too bad im just bare bones.“ Sans said, snorting as his own joke, but still getting no reaction out of the human.

He sighed and spoke again. „i would invite you to grillbys, but Papyrus is making dinner.“ He said, shrugging it off.

They said their goodbyes and Sans stayed at his station, looking over as the Monster Kid followed them.

The suddenly, Sans blinked and saw Monster kid at the same spot, like he hasn't moved a muscle. His bones froze as he saw Frisk walk by him, just like they did a moment ago.

It happened again. He knew it this time.

Same quiet. Same mist. Same creaking bridge.

„heya, kid.“

He doesn't stare long. He just smiles. Same as before.

„kinda peaceful, huh?“ Frisk says nothing. But their gaze lingers, heavier this time. Perhaps they noticed that Sans had a different dialog. Wasn't it supposed to stay the same?

„careful up ahead, many monsters. wouldn't wanna fall for the same mistake twice, huh?“ He says it like a joke, but theres no punchline.

Frisk walks away again, just like the last time.

The mist rolls by. The silence settles in again. And Sans waits.

And waits.

The walk home was quiet, but not in a lonely way, Sans liked the quiet. Snow crunching beneath his pink slippers, the kind of sound that fade s quickly. Pines rise tall on either side of the path, heavy with powder. The air sparkles with that weird kind of Snowdin magic, where the cold feels familiar instead of cruel.

His house awaits at the end of the trail. He could hear Papyrus before he could even enter.

Sans steps inside, closing the door with a soft creak. He felt warm almost immediately. The living room smelled faintly of burnt pasta and hope.

Papyrus is in the kitchen, wearing a „KISS THE COOK“ apron over his costume, holding the wooden spoon like a weapon.

„i'm home.“ Sans said, already sounding like he's ready for bed.

Papyrus turns dramatically, spoon raised.

„SANS, YOURE HOME!!! AND JUST IN TIME TO TASTE MY LATEST CREATION: SPAGHETTI: THE REVENGE!“

„hm, is that the sequel to 'spaghetti:the apology'?“ Sans said, already seeing the steam coming out of his brothers nonexistant ears.

„I'M NOT GONNA LET YOUR JOKES RUIN MY MOOD TONIGHT!“ Papyrus proudly held out a plate with that can only be described as 'expremly courageous food'. The noodles are stiff. The sauce is.. bubbling in an unnaturay way.

„I ADDED KETCHUP CAUSE YOU LOVE KETCHUP!!“

„i like ketchuo bro. but that looks like it likes me back.“ Sans said, laughing shortly at his pun, although he was the only one laughing. Weird.

They sit at the wobbly kitchen table. Sans doesn't eat, he tried. Nontheless, he pokes the spaghetti with a fork. It jiggles weirdly. He grins anyway.

Papyrus launches into a rambling monolouge about puzzle theory, spaghetti texture science, and his ongoing rivalry with the trashcan racoon behind Grillby's. Sans just listens, tossing in the occasional groan-worthy pun.

„you've really noodled out the science, huh? guess that makes you a pastalogist.“

„I PREFER SPAGHETTI-NEER. NYAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!!“

For a moment, its just laughter, and bad food, and the kind of comfort that only brothers can make feel like home.

Chapter Text

The familiar warmth of Grillby's bar greets Sans as he pushed open the door, the bell above it jingling softly. It's quiet tonight. A few regulars are scattered around, nursing their drinks in silence, but there's no loud chatter. Just Grillby crackling behind the bar and the occasional click of glasses.

Sans makes his way over to his usual spot at the bar, slouching onto the stool with an almost mechanical motion. He leans back, hands stuffed into his jacket, eyes half lidded as he looks around the bar. Something feels off tonight. Maybe its the way the shadows stretch long against the walls or how Grillby seemes to flicker a little slower than usual. Maybe its just the weight of knowing things will reset again. And again.

He looks over at the empty table where Alphys normally sits when she's here. Its odd. Last time he saw her, she seemed a bit.. distracted. Maybe she's working late, or maybe she's just avoiding the bar. He's learned to give her space when she needs it.

Grillby notices him, and the familiar warmth of his air flickers slightly in acknowledgment. Sans smiles lazily at the flame, but doesn't say much. There's a silent understanding between them. Grillby pushed a bottle of ketchup towards Sans, already putting it on his huge tab.

Sans sighs softly, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he mindlessly scrolls through it. After a while, he was about to put his phone back into his pocket when it rings. The caller ID flashes: „Dr. Alphys“. Grillby crackles on the side.

„heya, doc. figured you might call.“

„S-Sans! Uh- h-hi! I... I didn't think you'd answer this quickly... I-I mean I'm glad you did.....“ There was a pause which felt like a minute long.

„A-anyway.. do you have a second..?“

„got a million of 'em, whats up?“ Sans leans back in his stool, free hand curling around the bottle of ketchup more for something to hold than anything else.

„I-I've just been in the lab, and I can't focus. I've been double-checking my data, and.. I don't know, something's wrong..“ Alphys said, her voice as nervous as usual.

„wrong how?“ Sans asking, feeling a heavy weight on his bones.

„I.... I can't explain it!! My logs keep showing little inconsistencies, like time gaps and memory errors in places there shouldn't be any. I thought it was just a corrupted code at first, but even manually, some of my recordings dont match up-„

„alphys, calm down will you? its probably nothing.“ Sans said, taking a sip of his ketchup while Grillby kept crackling.

„could be stress. you've been pushing yourself pretty hard.“ He said, Grillby was still crackling.

She paused, breath shaky on the line.

„I-I don't know whats happening. And.... I don't know how to fix it...“

Sans closes his eyes briefly, his grin barely holding. He wants to tell her what was happening, but that's not something he's ready to share.

He lowered his head a little, shoulders curling inward, as if he could retreat deeper into himself.

„if somethin' was really wrong... you'd still be the first to figure it out. you're sharp like that.“

There's a pause. A quiet understanding, just like he had with Grillby.. Who was still crackling.

„Thanks, Sans.. I.. I needed to hear that. E-even if it doesn't make sense.“ Alphys said, feeling a tiny weight drop off of her shoulders.

„in my opinion, i'd take a break from working. nothing's stopping ya, you know?“ Sans said while still at the bar, drinking his ketchup. And Grillby.. Well.. Still crackling.

„H-hahh.... I guess you're right..huh..“ Alphys spoke, her voice quieter, the same as Grillby's crackling. „Right. Thanks, Sans. R-really. Good night.“

„night, doc.“

The line goes dead. He shuts the phone and slides it back into his pocket, then sluches against the counter in silence.

Grillby gives him a flicker of acknowledgment from behind the bar. No words, just the slow nod of someone who knows there's more going on beneath the surface than anyone would even tell.

Sans doesn't touch the ketchup anymore. He just stares at the bottle, perhaps his ketchup addiction was becoming a problem, or he was thinking of another bad pun.

Moon-washed mist covers the whole Waterfall. A jagged trail of scorched footprints, super heated by Undyne's spear-swings, leads away from the shallows where she lives.

At the very end of that trail, Undyne kneels on one knee.

Armor dented, scales slightly cracked, breath coming in ragged, angry bursts. One hand hand keeps her upright, the other is clenched so tight the knuckels glow white.

Sans appears with the hush of a snowfall, stepping out from behind a pillar of luminous crystals. No shortcut jingle, just soft footsteps.

„heya, captain.“ Sans said, so quiet it was almost like he was talking to himself.

Undyne doesn't turn. Her shoulders twitch at the sound, the spear that was in her hand a moment ago fizzles away.

„Don't 'captain' me right now, Sans. I had them. I-“ As she rises, her knees buckle. Sans' left hand flicker towards a few inches, ready to catch her, but he lets it drop when she steadies herself.

„looks like the kid gave you the slip. or maybe you slipped on all that determenation you spilled.“

Undyne snorts a laugh that sounds kind of genuine even. You'd hardly believe it, but some people actually find his funs punny.

„You're a real comedian.“ She said, wiping a trickle of glowing aqua blood from her cheek. „I got reckless. Though I could have finished them with my sheer power of determination.“ She said proudly.

A long, damp silence. Distant droplets fall from stalactites overhead.

„you fought hard, they noticed.“ Sans said, not sure how to comfort a defeated royal guard.

„Noticed enough to run. Next time they wont be able to escape.“

Sans' gaze drifts to the river's slow current, sweeping away the lonely mist. Next time might be tomorrow, or it might never come.

„look on the bright side, you got the river a free sauna treatment.“

Undyne huffs, half laugh, half exhausted groan. Then, at last, she turns to face him again. Her eye glows faintly in the blue crystal light.

„Sans, be straight with me. Do you think I'm not strong enough?“

The question hangs like frost in the air. Sans' grin doesnt waver, but it hollows out.

„strenght is complicated, but i know one thing.“ He raises a hand, summoning a single, tiny flame of magic, bright enough for Undyne to see.

„you've got more fight in a flicker than most monsters get in a lifetime. today just... wasn't the strongest punchline you wanted.“

The flame huffs out. Undyne exhales, shoulders easing by a fraction.

„Then I'll write a better one. And when they come back-„

„-put the period at the end of their sen-spear-tence.“

Her eyes roll so hard the lantern-light wobbles, but the grin that follows is pure, re-fired with determenation. Sans tips an invisible hat.

He turns to leave, stuffing his hands back into his pocket. Then he quickly added.

„hey Undyne, papyrus will come over soon. try and teach him to make something edible, huh?“ Sans said, his grin wide as ever. In the distance, a silent sound of Grillby still crackling was present within the mist.

The front door creaks open on a breath of cold air, scattering a few stray snowflakes across the welcome mat shaped like a bone. Sans steps inside, shrugging off his hood. The little house hums with furnace heat and smells faintly of scorched marinara, evidence of Papyrus' latest 'culinary achievement'.

Across the living room, Papyrus bursts in from the kitchen, still wearing his 'KISS THE CHEF' Apron over his costume. Bits of flour fleck the red scarf around his neck.

„SANS!!! YOU'RE BACK! UNDYNE SAYS MY SPECIAL 'LAVA-LASAGNA' IS ALMOST WEAPON GRADE! JUST A FEW MORE TRIES, AND I'LL ACHIEVE PASTA PERFECTION!!!!“

„heh, sounds smokin' bro. undyne could probably forge armor with that sauce.“

Papyrus beams. His energy fills every corner of the small room.

„SHE CALLED ME RESILLIANT AND SPICY! I BELIEVE THAT IS THE HIGHEST COMPLIMENT A WARRIOR CAN RECIEVE!“

„defenitely in the top three.“ Then he blinks, and Payprus is gone. It happen again.

Payprus came bursting out of the kitchen and sees Sans.

„SANS, WHEN DID YOU COME BACK? I DIDN'T HEAR YOU AT ALL!!“ Papyrus said, wearing the exact same apron.

„i-“ Before Sans could even say anytning, Papyrus interrupts him.

„WOWIE, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE SO SNEAKY, BROTHER! YOU MUST TEACH ME!!“ Payprus said, beaming with excitement. Sans felt the same exact dread wash over him. Sans takes off his jacked and hangs it on a clothing hanger near the entrance.

„BY THE WAY, I SAVED YOU SOME DINNER, ITS IN THE FRIDGE IF YOU WANT-„

„no, i'm okay. I'll skip today.“ Sans said quietly, already heading up the stairs. He wanted some alone time to process what was all happening. Was he gonna repeat this yet again?

„BROTHER, ARE YOU ALRIGHT? I THOUGHT YOU LOVED MY COOKING..!“ Papyrus said, looking over at Sans as he lowers his spatula.

„i'm not that hungry, just tired. you know me.“ Sans forced a smile and went up the stairs, leaving Papyrus confused.

As Sans entered his bedroom, he laid down on his mattress, not knowing what to do anymore. He felt lost, like it was all a game to the human. His life was relatively normal. Beside his past. He looked at the handplate on his hand.

'WDG – 1S' It read.

He still didn't know what that meant. And if frisk keeps respawning or resetting, how will he ever find out?

He only wanted Papyrus to be happy, caring more about him rather than himself.

Quickly, he fell asleep.

A couple hours later, the dog shaped alarm on the floor next to him woofs once, it was midnight already. Sans' grin flickers slightly.

„welp, hot-dog o'clock. gotta work.“ He said to himself.

He went downstairs to see Papyrus still awake.

„A TRUE WORKER, EVEN IN THE DEPTHS OF THE VOLCANIC REGIONS! YOU MAKE ME PROUD, BROTHER!“ Papyrus said, getting up from their wobbly couch to see Sans more clearly.

„yea, yea. try not to burn the house down with your magma-roni while i'm gone.“ He slips into his jacket and was ready to leave the house, when Papyrus spoke.

„SANS, IF ANYTHING WAS WRONG, YOU'D TELL ME, RIGHT?“ Papyrus said, genuinely worried. He kept his hands close to himself. He was worried about his brother, knowing he care more about him then himself.

„of course i would, bro. there's no secrets between us, remember?“ Sans said, not wanting to worry his brother. He wanted him to be happy. That's all he wanted. Only that.

Sans left quickly after that, and teleported to his station at Hotland when he got closer. He was just sitting there for a while, eating the hotdogs. Then. Frisk came, his bones clattered a bit, but he kept his composure.

„heya, kid. want a hotdog?“ He asked, smiling like his usual self. „its only 25G“

Frisk nodded and before they could get the hotdog, Sans spoke up again.

„how 'bout this. since we know each other, i can made a discount for you. how does 30G sound?“ He said, laughing shortly at his price management.

The human lookes confused for a second, but still took it. Then they asked for another one.

„sorry kid, i think i'm outta hot dogs. want a hot cat instead?“ He asked, grinning like usual.

They took it, then they asked for another, than another, Sans just stacked them on their head. After about thirty head dogs, he spoke up.

„heya, now, i can't reach that high. like, twenty-nine head dogs is fine, but thirty? that's just pushing limits.“ He said, trying to joke, only to ease himself.

He stayed at his station as Frisk moved around, the head dogs falling on the ground. When they left, Sans looked petrefied, all of his hard work, on the ground... He went over to the mess and kneeled, a single tear falling from his eyes socket. He knew then, that human was evil. He picked up the sausages, they looked unusable, covered in hot dust.

He blinked again, and the head dogs were gone. He hated this, he knew what was happening and he couldn't do anything about it.

When the human came yet again, they asked for a hot dog, then a hot cat, but when they asked for more, Sans paused.

„sorry, kid. i don't have any left, some guards were passing by and bought the rest.“ He spoke, shrugging his shoulders. Frisk looked confused, but Sans just kept smiling. The dialog changed again.

The human left and he let out the heaviest sigh ever. He's done enough work, he should probably go home.

Chapter Text

Grillby was crackling.
Dr. Alphys invited Sans over to watch anime with her. She took a couple days off of being a royal scinetist, of course, Asgore understood.
He was walking on the path towards her house. Usually, he'd see Tsundere plane by now. But, it wasn't here.
It was hot in here. Well, the place was called Hotland for a reason, he thought to himself. Even so, he was still wearing his jacket, his pink slippers quieting down his footsteps.
A soft fwip of shortcut magic, and Sans pops into existance in front of her lab.
Before he could even knock, Alphys opened the door and saw him, she immediately got more nervous.
„H-hi.. Sans!! I didnt expect you so.. soon.. I just turned on Mew Mew Kissie Cutie season 2 – Directors cut..!!“ She said, wearing her normal clothes. A polka dot short-sleeved shirt and black sweatpants. She moved away and let him inside.
„you didn't, huh? weird that you opened the door before i knocked.“ He said, looking around the lap. It was cleaner the usual, guess she had more time on her hand now.
„H-hahh.. you caught me.. I-I guess..“ She flushed brighter than the lava outside, then gestured to a couch she dragged in between server racks. A family-sized pack of 'Noodle puffs' and two bottles of Quark-Cola on the coffee table.
As Sans drops in between cushions, a door at the back creaks open. LEDs sweep the room like papparazzi flashes.
„Alphys, darling! The projector's calibrated and – Ah! Bones-boy! Didn't know you'd swing by for premiere night!“ He strikes a glitter pose, sequins on his buttons that reflected from the blue monitor screen.
„couldn't resist the rating boosts. anyway, i figured you might need my shine power.“ Sans said, looking as Mettaton was making more model poses.
„Please, I shine plenty! But an audiance of two is drastically intimate. Why don't we make it iconic.“
Alphys fidgeted a little, clutching a plushie of the anime's cat protagonist.
„M-Mettaton just installed a surround system! I-It should feel like we're inside the show!
„as long as the inside's not the filler episode, i'm good.“
The lights dim, holographic petals drift from ceiling emitters, Mettadon's flourished. Opening theme, a hyper-cute, bubblegum J-pop track. Alphys plops beside Sans, vibrating with fangirl energy. Mettadon lounges across a sparkle-studded chair, commentary mic already in hand.
Mettaton fires his opinions whenever a trope lands.
„Darling, that attack has no budget.“
„Costume change? I do those hourly!“
Sans chuckles. For a moment the loops feels distant. Just friends, junk food, and girlish heroes.
Mid-episode, power flickers, a molten tremor rattles the vents. Lava bubbles burst somewhere deep in Hotland. Alphys startles.
„J-just a pressure spike! H-happens all the time!“
„no problem. we're just in hot water.“
Mettaton laughs politely. „Oh, your puns!“ Then cranks up the volume.
They watched three episodes straight. Empty noodle wrappers piled up. Quark-Cola already empty.
Whe the end credits of episode three roll, Alphys wipes a teary eye.
„I-I forgot how emotional this was.. Even though.. It's the same every time.“
Sans' smile fades at her statement. But he masks it, sinking deeper in between the couch cushions.
„cheers to a happy ending.“ He thought if he was gonna get his happy ending.
Mettadon glides forward, pearls and sparkle reflecting from the screen.
„How about a selfie to remember this?“
His phone snaps a photo. Alphys beaming, Sans half-smirking, Mettaton Throwing peace signs. The flash freezes the moment, one timeline's proof that they were happy.
Outside, the lava keeps rolling. Inside, for a flicker, Sans lets himself believe this scene might stick, animation etched on film that the reset won't destroy.

After a couple of hours, Sans was at his home, sleeping, when his dog-shaped alarm woofed. He got up after a couple of minutes, seeing the same note from Papyrus that he got yestarday.
„GOOD MORNING BROTHER, I AM CURRENTLY AT UNDYNE'S PLACE AS WE ARE MAKING 'SPAGHETTI: THE REVENGE JUNIOR. DON'T SLEEP FOR TOO LONG, PLEASE! PASTA IS IN THE FRIDGE!“
Damn it, he didn't know what was worse. Frisk dying and respawning, reseting time again, or him having to eat Papyrus' pasta again.
He laid on the bed for half an hour more, when he got a call from Alphys. He knew she would ask him to watch the anime, and he was planning to refuse. But then, he rememebered the selfie.
Maybe it wasn't deleted?
Maybe he could have some sort of proof.
He answered the call.
„morning, alphys.“ Sans said, his voice a little deeper since he has been sleeping till now.
„O-oh, did i wake you up, Sans? I-I'm sorry..“ Alphys said on the other line. It was already 11am.
„nope, been awake for a while now.“ He said, still lying on the bed. He sighed and looked at his ceiling, not knowing what to think anymore.
There was silence on the other end. It felt like it lasted a whole minute.
„I-I was just wondering.. Would you want to come over later and watch.. Uh.. Mew Mew Kissie Cutie season 2 – Directors cut..!“ She said, her voice shaking a little.
„alphys, i'm not a kitten, i'm all in for that.“
Her snorting, awkward joy makes something twist in this boney chest. It's not sadness. Not exactly. More like, nostalgia for a moment that hasn't even passed.
He forces a smirt back up as Alphys wheezes at the other end of the line.
But even if things reset again, he would try to find comfort in it.
„relax, doc. if you go down, i'll just reset the vibe.“ He chuckles again, because it's what he does. Because if he didn't, he might start screaming instead.
When he got to Hotland again, the air felt off. It was hot, of course, but it felf suffocating. He went over to Alphys' doors again and it was all the same.
She opened before he could knock. Mettaton gave them a real show and made comments on the anime.
At the end, it was selfie time again. They all did the same pose, at least Sans tried to.
„hey, sparkly-bot, can i see the selfie?“ Sans asked, reaching his arm our for Mettaton's phone. He wanted to see if the selfie from yestarday, that is, today, was still there.
„Oh of course, Sans! But just you know, I'm the best at taking photos!!“ He said, posing dramatically as he flung his phone in the air. Sans panicked a little and barely cough it with his boney, thin fingers.
He looked at the gallery and saw the selfie from a couple minutes ago. Then he swiped and saw the photo from yestarday. It was the same.
Except Sans wasn't there.
It was only Alphys and Mettaton.
Sans felt defeated and sighed, giving Mettaton his phone back.

The cold bites a little sharper when Sans left Hotland. The vents and machines of Alphys' lab hum farther and farther away with each lazy step he takes. Not that he's in a hurry.
He keeps his head down, shoulders hunched over. Snow crunched under him, soft and familiar. The shortcut magic itches in his bones, tugging at him to just blink home, but he ignores it tonight. He needs to walk. He needs the stretch of empty space to shake the leftover noise of the lab out of his skull. What he couldn't stretch out was Grillby's crackling in the distance.
By the time he steps out to the front door of his house, Papyrus' silhouette is already moving behind the frosted windows, busy doing.... well, whatever it is Papyrus does at 1AM on a Tuesday that keeps him energized like a coffee tornado. It's like this every Tueasday.
Sans lets himself in. The smell of scorched spaghetty already in the air. He takes off his jacket and puts it on the hanger. Underneath, he was wearing a short sleeved shirt, his boney arms finally breathing a little.
„SANS!! I WAS ABOUT TO ALERT THE ROYAL GUARD! I THOUGHT YOU WERE ABDUCTED! OR EVEN WORSE, IGNORING MY SPAGHETTI!“ Payprus says, wearing his 'KISS THE CHEF' apron yet again. Was that his only one?
„i thought i told you where i was. just got caught up watchin' a cinematic cat-astrophe.“
Papyrus blinks, utterly confused by the pun, as usual, but shrugs and bounces back into the kitchen, clanking dishes and singing the word 'SPAGHETTI' to the tune of a theme song only he knew.
Sans just watched him for a second. Papyrus threw himself into every day like it's brand new. Because for him, it is.
„AND NOW.. A PINCH OF SALT! FOR FLAVOUR! NYEH HEHE HEH HEH!“
Sand slouched deeper into the couch, grinning lazily.
„careful, bro. if you season it anymore, it'll be concidered a weapon.“
Papyrus sticks his head around the corner, eyes narrowing dramatically. Sans sniffles exaggeratedly.
„I ADDED THE SECRET INGREDIENT, SANS! FLAVOR!“
„yea... smells like you seasoned it with my tears.“
Papyrus beams, missing the sarcasm. Sans slowly slides off the couch, walking over to the kitchen to peer inside the pot. It looks like the spaghetti is trying to escape, but it was too stiff to move. He swore he heard the pasta whisper 'help me...'.
„it looks salty enough to start an arguemnt online, with your.. two friends.“
„NONSENSE! THIS WILL BE THE GREATEST DINNER IN HISTORY!“ Payprus points dramatically at the bubbling mess.
„yea, history's first meal to be legally declared as inedible.“ Sans smirked as Papyrus gasps, offended.
„SANS, YOU TAKE THAT BACK, BROTHER!“ Sand leans against the doorway, fake-serious.
„ok, ok. not inedible, more like... the dead sea, served hot.“
„I REFUSE TO HEAR YOUR TERRIBLE OPINION, NOPE, NOPE, NOPE!“ Papyrus says, covering his nonexistant ears.
„come on, papyrus. the noodles look like crime victims, and they didn't survive.“
Papyrus lets out a mortal scream and storms back into the kitchen. From inside, there's frantic clanging. Sans stays leaned casually against the doorframe, calling after him.
„bro, i was just joking-“ Before he could finish his sentance, a plate sails out from the kitchen. Sans ducks under it, a bead of sweat forming on his skull.
For once, he doesn't shoot back another pun. He scratches the back of his skull and speaks.
„sorry, papyrus. guess i pushed your buttons a little too hard, huh.“
From inside the kitchen, Papyrus is silent for a moment. Then, a heavy sigh.
„ITS FINE, SANS. I AM USED TO YOUR INFURIATING WAYS.“ Sans chuckles softly, but it's warmer this time.
„for what its worth, the spaghetti smells... survivable.“ A beat. Then a loud, frustated groan from Papyrus.
„THAT WAS ALMOST A COMPLIMENT..“
Sans just shrugs, flopping back onto the couch with a lazy wave. „love you too, bro.“
Papyrus grumbled something under his breath, still hidden in the kitchen.
Sans stretched lazily across the couch, then tilted his head towards the doorway.
„how about we eat together? you did put a lot of work into it after all.“
There was a long pause, a spoon clattered somewhere inside. Finally, Papyrus poked his head out from the kitchen, suspicious.
„YOU'D... EAT IT? EVEN AFTER ALL THE MOCKERY..?“ Sans gave a small shrug and a crooked grin.
„well, it ain't every day i get to experience a culinary adventure and a near-death experience at the same time.“
Papyrus straightened up, puffing out his chest proudly.
„VERY WELL!! IF YOU ARE BRAVE ENOUGH TO EAT MY MASTERPIECE, THEN I SHALL JOIN YOU!“ He disappears back into the kitchen, clanking around with renewed energy.
Sans dragged himself up off the couch with an exaggerated groan and wantered over to the wobbly kitchen table. He grabbed two mismached bowls from the cabinet, one slightly cracked, and one too small, for him, and placed them down with a clatter.
Soon enough, Papyrus returned, carrying a pot that sloshed omniously with every step.
Sans sat down, resting his chin in his hand as Papyrus proudly laded out two terrifyingly streaming heaps of spaghetti.
„TOGETHER, WE DINE AS KINGS!!“
Sans stared at the jiggling mound in his bowl. „yea.. kings of regret.“
Papyrus didn't even flinch. He just raised his fork high, and Sans, grinning despide himself, clicked his own fork against it in a 'toast'.
„to bravery and.. emergency stomach pumps.“ Which was ironic cause they didn't have stomachs. And, the food monsters eat would immediately turn into energy. But Sans doubted this would give him any energy.
Together, they took their first bites. Sans already bracing himself for a long night.

The next day, Sans was at Grillbys after a long and hard day of work. He blinked three times that day. It was hard.
Grillby wiped the counter with a practised, endless rhythm, cloth dragging in slow, steady circles.
Sans leaned against the bar, chin resting lazily in his palm, watching him work.
The place was half empty. Soft music clacked from the ancient jukebox, just like Grillby's flames were crackling. The smell of firewood and grease hung thick in the air.
Sans swirled his ketchup bottle absently.
„y'know.... you're probably the best listener in town, grillby.“
The fire monster paused, his flames crackled a little brighter, but he didn't say anything, he never does.
Sans chuckled under his breath, hollow.
„heh, guess it's easy when you don't gotta say anything back.“ He tapped the counter lightly with his fingers.
„i was just thinking, do you ever get that feelin'.. like you're stuck in a rerun you can't turn off?“
Grillby continued polishing the same spot, his expression unreadable behind the wavering glow of crackling fire.
Sans weighed his next words, unsure in himself.
„like.... no matter how much you try to change, you end up right back here. same chair, same bottle, same old lousy jokes.“ He tossed the ketchup bottle in the air, catching it without looking.
„i guess its kinda funny... in a cosmic, existential horror kinda way.. huh..“
The light above him flickered once. Grillby didn't react.
Sans sighed, rubbing the back of his skull. He couldn't think of any puns.
„hm, figured you wouldn't laugh.“
For a long moment, the bar was quiet. The soft click of glasses. The hiss of the fryer. The slow beat of the jukebox, and Grillby's crackling.
And then.
It hit.
The world tilted.
The bottle slipped from Sans' fingers, falling in slow motion. The color drained from the room. The jukebox warped into a low, drawn out drone. The flames on Grillby's head stopped... crackling..
Sans barely moved. He just closed his eyes, not surpired. Not anymore.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back at the front of the bar. The door swung open with a jingle. The place was the same. Grillby wiping that one part of the counter, making the same perfect circle.
Sans stood there for a moment.
„figures.“
Grillby glanced at him, tilting his head slightly in greeting. Just as he always did. Just as he always would.
Sans pulled himself onto the same barstool, slouched forward and forced a grin.
„heya, flamey. guess we're doin' this again, huh?“
Grillby said nothing. The cloth circled the same clean spot. And the world spun on.

Chapter Text

The rules were simple.

At least, they would've been, if there were any rules to begin with.

Sans kicked his feet up on the counter at Grillby's, twirling a bent straw between his fingers like it was some kind of grand prize. In his mind, he'd invented a new goal.

Leave a mark before the human dies again.

Nothing serious. Just dumb stunts and ketchup stains in borrowed time.

He scratched a crooked smile onto a coaster with a butter knife.

He swapped the salt and pepper on the condiment table. He stacked a pyramid of shot glasses. Left ketchup stains onto little fabrics.

Each time, he let himself believe, just a little, that maybe. Maybe, something would survive.

Across the bar, Grillby gave him a look, or as much as a literal crackling flame could give, that probably meant 'are you serious?'. Sans just grinned wider.

„what can i say, Grillby. i'm just tryin' to ketchup with destiny.“ The flame monster said nothing, polishing glasses like he wasn't standing on the crumbling edge of reality with Sans.

That was the thing about games. You either won, or you lost.

Grillby wiped the same spot on the counter for the fifth time, patient as ever. Sans leaned back farther in his chair, balancing on two legs with causal laziness. His eyelids drooped, but the smile stayed. It always did.

He could only do stupid, annoying things to keep himself sane.

He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a handful of toothpicks, flicking them onto the counter one by one, arranging them into a lopsided little skeleton.

„look at that, flames. my son.“

Grillby didn't laugh, just nodding his head at his son, acknowledging his presence in the bar. But he didn't laugh, he didn't have to. Sans chuckled at his own joke anyway, like he could outrun the silence gnawing at the edges of the world.

He tapped the little skeleton, that is, his son, one and only, Sans Junior. He made it dance on the counter.

Just a stupid game. Just a stupid, stupid-

The world warped.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. One blink, that's all it took.

One lazy blink.

When Sans opened his eyes again, the toothpicks were gone. The counter was clean. His chair was cold.

Grillby stood at his usual spot, looking up as Sans pushed open the door like he had just arrived.

Again.

Sans stood frozen for a second too long. The doorway framed him like a punchline he hadn't written yet.

The flame gave him a polite nod of greeting, like none of it had happened.

„guess i lost another round.“ He shuffled to his seat, the familiar creak of wood under his light weight, he was all bones anyway. It sounded exactly the same as last time.

And the time before.

And the time before that.

Another game he couldn't win, nor did he know how to win.

He looked at the counter and rested his head in his hands. Totally defeated and utterly crushed, but not only cause of the resets.

„....my son...“

Grillby polished a glass, silent and still crackling.

At the end he gave up from the game cause he was lazy.

The door creaked open with familiar, rusty groan.

Home sweet home.

Sans shuffled inside, kicking off his pink slipperd at the entrance. The scent of burned pasta clung in the air. Either Papyrus had been experimenting again, or the stove was finally planning its revenge.

„SANS, YOU'RE BACK!! GUESS WHAT! I IMPROVED MY SPAGHETTI RECIPE BY EXACTLY.. 7.54 PERCENT!“

Did Papyrus only cook when he's at home. Was that all?

Sans just snorted, hanging his jacket lazily on the hanger.

„wow, paps... movin' up in the world. at this rate, you'll start making edible food by... uh.. 2045.“

„I KNOW, I AM SO AMAZING! AND SO ARE YOU!“ Papyrus beamed, oblivious to the joke.

Sans wandered into the kitchen, where a pot bubbled menacingly on the stove. Papyrus hovered over it, wielding a wooden spoon like a sword.

„TONIGHT, WE FEAST, BROTHER!“

Sans eyed the suspiciously lumpy sauce, the noodles floating at odd angles like drowned worms. He fought back a grimace, keeping his relaxed, lazy smile.

„i'm gonna save you one day, i promise.“ Sans said to the pasta.

Papyrus shot him an exaggerated glare but quickly busied himself with putting the.... spaghetti.. in two mismatched bowls. Sans accepted his without complaint, slumping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

„SANS! YOU DIDN'T EVEN TASTE IT YET!“

Sans lazily twirled a single limp noodle around his fork.

„don't worry, i will. but i can already tell it's going to be amazing, bro.“ Sans said, winking at his brother.

„WOWIE!! YOU THINK SO???? THEN YOU MUST EAT IT ALL!!“ Papyrus beamed with excitement, glad that his brother thought it looked amazing.

Sans almost choked on air. He should have been more careful with his words. But now, he had to accept defeat. He didn't want his brother to be sad again.

He only wanted him to be happy.

Sans looked over at Papyrus and spoke.

„y'know.. you don't have to wear gloves at home. it's just me after all.“ He said quietly, not knowing if he was suppost to say that. He looked over at his own handplate and sighed.

„I-I KNOW, BUT I LIKE MY GLOVES, SO THERE'S NO NEED!“ Papyrus muttered, trying to act as if he was okay with what happened. Even though.. They both didn't know anything about their past.

„ok, ok, fine. let's just eat, huh?“ Sans said, trying to change the subject.

They both sat on the wobbly couch and watched TV as Sans was.. trying to eat the pasta. He downed every bite without chewing, knowing he was in for a sleepless night. But he wanted Papyrus to be happy, so he downed it all.

He let himself believe that maybe tonight wouldn't end with the world rewinding into knots again.

Maybe. But deep down, he knew better.

Sans made his way down the winding path to Undyne's house, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched over as always. The air was filled with mist in Waterfall, like it always has been.

He knocked lazily against the dented doorframe.

A loud clatter echoed from inside, something falling over. And then, Undyne's voice, rough and imaptient.

„Yeah, yeah!! Come in, unless you're a spy!“

Sans pushed open the door with a lazy shoulder bump. The place looked chaotic, cluttered, and somehow still feeling more alive than most houses.

Undyne stood in the middle of the kitchen area, juggling two mugs and a battered tea kettle like she was training for combat.

„Sans!“ She barked, grinning. He was wearing shorts and a tanktop. Her figure was slim, it was the perfect secret attack cause no one would know how strong she was.

„Was wondering when you'd show your bony ass.“

He gave a causal wave, eyeing the wreckage of a broken chair in the corner.

„had to fight off three snails and one temmie cat asking if i'd pay off her collage. barely made it.“

Undyne laughed, sharp and honest. She slammed a mug down on the table.

„Pick your drink of choise. Got.. snail juice.. well, nevermind that.. Also got soda, weird energy drinks Alphys left here.. or, uh, tea. If you wanna be boring.“

„i think i'll play it safe this time, how about some golden tea?“

Undyne snorted and turned back to the kettle, muttering something about 'cowards and their weak drinks.'.

Sans shuffled over the table, sliding a chair before sitting it in.

She poured the tea, the water hissing angrily in the cracked kettle. The scent of flowers barely covered the smell of her burnt kitchen and sweaty socks.

Sans accepted the mug, but was too afraid to drink it cause it was quite literally on fire. He just held the mug, looking as Undnye already took a sip.

„Well it ain't that hot, bone ass! Just drink it!“ She said, looking at him as if she was planning his murder.

„...right..“ Sans took a sip and couldn't feel his body, or he felt too much. He wasn't sure.

They sipped in silence for a bit, the kettle rattling everytime the house creaked. Finally, Undyne grumbled into her mug.

„So. The human and your brother. Huh.“

Sans set his cup down, tapping the table with one lazy boney ass finger.

„yep. bone buddies. pasta pals. fork-and-spoon federation.“

Unydne choked slightly on her tea, maybe cause it was on fire, or she found his words funny. She slammed her fists on the table, Sans' tea falling onto the floor and the wood caught on fire.

„It's weird! Papyrus... just accepts them! He thinks everyone is just.. nice deep down or something..!“

Sans look at the fire on the wooden floor. It didn't make sense. The tea was almost fully made of water, why was there fire.. He decided to just shrug at her words, a bead of sweat forming on his skull.

„p-paps' heart is big, it probably has its own zip code.“

Undyne lets out a groan of frustration, completely ignoring the fire. She sighed and leaned her head on her fists.

„I don't trust it. Something about that human.. It's like looking into a mirror, but the reflection has shark teeth.“

Sans tilted his head nervous. He looked at the fire slowly spreading over the wooden floor, but Undyne still seems to ignore it.

„i guess it has a biting personality.“

Undyne threw a sugar package at him, but it hit his face and fell into the fire, dissolving immediately. Now he was wondering what was in that tea.

She stared at her tea for a long time before she decided to speak again.

„I don't know.. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm too harsh. Maybe I'm seeing things that aren't here.“

Sans' smile flickered. Things that aren't here, huh. He thought about all the resets, all the friends lost and regained. He thought about the memories only he was cursed to carry. And he still didn't know why, which was the most annoying part.

„look, you're not wrong to worry to much. i mean, it is my brother that's in question. i worry about him too, and i dont like the human that much too.“  He said softly, but inside, he was still panicking about the fire that was literally next to them.

Undyne frowned at Sans, but he did have a point. She was always so uptight and she was always thinking about something.

„I still can't believe I lost a fight to that measly excuse of a human.“ She scoffed, taking a big gulp of the scorching tea. Sans could see the fire peering over her cup.

„well that's not your fault.“ Sans said, thinking of his next words.

„how about... umm.. you don't have to lose against that fire on the ground..“ Sans gulped, pointing to the slowly spreading fire.

Undyne jumped from her seat and her eyes widened.

„Sans! Why didn't you tell me, you bone ass!“ She cursed at him.

Undyne quickly went to get a bowl of water, while Sans was wondering how it was his fault. She kinda did knock over the glass, and she didn't even notice the fire..?

Undyne quickly threw the water onto the fire and cursed everyone she knew under her breath.

„My tea wan't even that hot, Sans!!“ She yelled at him again, and he just stayed quiet, knowing better than to anger her more.

At the end, he decided to leave for his own good. When he was already quite far away, he could still hear Undyne complaining and cursing him out, just like he could still hear Grillby crackling.

He decided to teleport home with his shortcut magic. He didn't have the energy to walk. He already had a second near-death experience in only that one week.

When he finally spotted Snowdin's border, the cold mist rolling along the ground like a lazy river. He let out a slow breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

The cold hit him, but he barely felt it. Skeletons and hypothermia, not exactly a classic duo.

Soon his house came into view, comforting in its shabbiness.

Papyrus had insisted on painting the door orange once, calling it 'EXREMELY INVITING!“

Now it just looked like someone had lost a bet.

Sans walked up the porch, already out of breath. This was too much of a workout. He peered inside from the window and inside, he saw Papyrus. Probably trying to perfect another spaghetti recipe, or maybe plotting his plan against the trash racoon behind Grillby's.

Sans paused with his hand on the doorknob. For a second, he just stood there. Letting the night wrap around him, letting himself feel just bone-deep exhaustion. Funny, huh.

The door creaked open before he even tried to get in.

Papyrus' head popped out, wearing the same apron yet again and a massive smile.

„SANS!! YOU'RE BACK! I WAS BEGINNING TO WORRY YOU'D BEEN ABDUCTED BY A VERY PERSISTANT FOOD CRITIC!!“

„why do you always think i'm abducted?“ Sans looked at him weirdly.

Papyrus ignored his question and let Sans come in.

Warmth, real warmth, not Hotland's sweaty ass air, filled out from the house. The smell of slightly burnt spaghetti hit Sans in the face like a welcome slap.

He ducked inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. The cold night stayed outside.

For now.

Dinner was a chaotic symphony of clanking pots, enthusiastic yelling, and at least one emergency involving a broomstick and a stubborn fire alarm. But somehow, Sans survived it.

Papyrus practically beamed with pride as he served two gigantic plates of spaghetti, one slightly less burnt than the other, which he proudly declared as 'PREMIUM EDITION'.

Sans twirled a fork lazily through the noodle, trying his best not to grimace.

„looks like you really noodled it out, bro.“

Papyrus groaned so loudly it rattled the windows.

„SANS, YOUR PUNS ARE A CRIME AGAINST COOKING!!“

Sans just winked and stuffed a huge bite of pasta into his mouth, swallowing it without chewing. He fought with his body, begging it to act normal.

After dinner, Papyrus buzzed around cleaning the kitchen, singing some terrible, off-key song of the royal guard anthem. While Sans, true to his from, flopped onto the battered, wobbly couch and melted into the cushions like a snowman left out on the sun.

He meant to just close his sockets for a minute. Just a quick recharge.

But the second his skull hit the armrest, the weight of the day, the days stacked behind him, crashed down on him all at once.

His bones felt so heavy, too heavy to move, too heavy to care. And without realizing it, he was completely out.

The first thing Sans heard was shouting. The second thing he heard was his own joints cracking as someone shook him.

„SANS!! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, YOU LAZYBONES!!“

Sans groaned, half-buried under a blanket, one slipper still dangling off his foot. His mind was stuck somewhere between dreamland and reality, and reality felt weird.

Through the fog, he heard Papyrus shouting something else.

„..PAPYRUS, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!“

Sans' brain, half functioning, picked it up wrong. He cracked an eye open, blinked slowly at the ceiling, and muttered. „mmh.. paypal?“

Papyrus paused mid-shake.

„WHAT?!“ He screeched.

Sans yawned so wide it looked like he might unhinge his skull.

„you said your name's paypal, right?“ he mumbled „makes sense.. you do a lotta transactions.. mostly in spaghetti.“

Papyrus' jaw dropped open, he was utterly offended.

„I-I AM NOT PAYPAL! I AM PAPYRUS!!!“ He stomped his foot so hard the floor rattled.

„THOUGH.. HMM.. 'THE MAGNIFICENT PAYPAL' DOES SOUND QUIET OFFICIAL..“ He thought to himself and looked away for a second.

„could start chargin' people.. five dollars a joke.. twenty dollars to make me stop.“ Sans snickered, rubbing his eye sockets lazily.

Papyrus threw his hands in the air.

„THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!!“

„ehh... seems like fair market value.“ He muttered, still only half awake.

He tried to sit up and nearly fell off the couch. Papyrus caught him, hands firm but awkward.

Sans blinked at him, finally seeing how frantic his brother looked. The deep frown, dark rings under his eyes, the way he hovered too close like he was scared.

„you okay, bro?“ Sans asked quietly.

„I'M FINE!“ He sniffled „BUT YOU! YOU'VE BEEN ASLEEP FOR SIXTEEN HOURS!! I COUNTED! EVEN SET A TIMER!! AND I POKED YOU TWICE!!“

„guess i really.. crashed my operating system.“ Sans chuckled weakly.

He waited for a groan. None came.

Papyrus just looked at him with that same worried face. The one that Sans hated, because he could see how much he mattered in it. How much it would hurt when everything inevitably resets again.

Sans dragged himself upright with a grunt.

„i'm good, paps. promise.“

Papyrus hesitated.

„..OKAY!“ He said eventually. „BUT YOU'RE EATING BREAKFAST!! I MADE IT SPECIAL!“

„hm.. paypal-approved pancakes?“ Sans added.

Papyrus did groan at that, finally, and stomped toward the kitchen.

Sans sat there for a minute longer, letting the sunlight slant across the room. He could smell burnt syrup. He could hear Papyrus banging around too many pots for no good reason.

It was so normal it hurt.

He dragged a hand down his skull.

He didn't want to repeat this again. He didn't want Papyrus to be sad again. Now he only hoped the human would stop dying.

Sans shook his head and forced a grin back onto his face.

He had today.

He had this moment. And right now, that was enough.

He pushed himself off the couch, shuffling toward the kitchen.

„smells like smething exploded in here.“ He said, ducking as a pancake flew through the air at him.

„STOP INSULTING MY COOKING AND SIT DOWN!!“ Papyrus ordered.

Sans chuckled and plopped into a chair.

„sure thing, paypal.“

Papyrus made a strangled noise, grabbing a plate and agressively putting pancakes onto it.

Sans picked up his fork, still grinning lazily. But inside, he knew this wouldn't last.

He stared down at the plate Papyrus slammed in front of him.

The pancakes were.. generous. That was one word for it. Stacked at a dangerously leaning angle, slathered in something that looked like syrup but shimmered suspiciously, and decorated with a few strips of bacon that had clearly been shapen into a smiley face, at least that's what it looked like. One of them was slightly on fire.

Sans poked the stack gingerly.

„....they fightin' back, bro?“

Papyrus planted his hands on his hips proudly.

„THEY ARE INFUSED WITH DETERMINATION!! AND VANILLA EXTRACT!“

Sans gave the plate a long, slow stare. „it looks like its fighting to stay alive, paps..“

„STOP BEING SUCH A SKEPTIC! EAT!!!“

With a dramatic sigh, Sans picked up his fork and took a bite.

The pancaked squeaked.

Literally.

„SOOO??“ Papyrus leaned in eagerly, eyes wide.

Sans ferced himself to chew, trying to stay serious.

„i feel bad for the pancakes..“ He said, sounding genuine.

„OH YOU'RE IMPOSSIBLE TO PLEASE!“ Papyrus groaned so hard it shook the table.

Sans snickered, going in for another bite, partly cause he was hungry, partly because he knew it would make Papyrus beam like a lighthouse if he finished the plate.

And he was right. Papyrus nearly vibrated with joy as Sans worked through the leaning tower of chaos pancakes.

Halfway though, the kitchen phone, a clunky, old-fashioned thing hanging on the wall, started ringing.

„THE PHONE!!“ He cried, as if it were a bomb about to go off. „I MUST ANSWER IT!!“

He sprinted to the phone, slipping slightly on a syrup patch, grabbed the reciever, and barked. „HELLO!! THIS IS PAPYRUS, THE GREAT PAPYRUS! HOW MAY I BE OF SERVICE??“

There was a laughing noise on the other line.

Sans chuckled around another mouthful of pancakes. He looked down at the pleading pancakes, feeling guilty for even taking a bite. He swore he could hear them pleading for mercy.

Mercy, huh. That was something Frisk wasn't so keen of.

There was a raspy, frustrated voice on the other line, Sans could hear it from where he was sitting.

„Papyrus.“ Undyne voice crackled through the phone, just like Grillby was crackling.

„Tell Sans to get his lazy ass and come spar with me sometimes. He's gonna turn into a pile of expired ketchup packets if he keeps sleeping through his life!!“

Papyrus squinted suspiciously at the phone.

„..HE'S CURRENTLY ENGAGED IN AN INTENSE BATTLE WITH A STACK OF PANCAKES!“

More crackling, just like Grillby.

„Good. Tell him if he doesn't stop skipping out on life, I'm gonna come over there and kick his lazy spine into next Tuesday!“

Papyrus turned to glance dramatically over his shoulder at Sans, who gave a lazy little wave with his fork.

„I BELIEVE HE ACCEPTS YOUR VIOLENT INVITATION!!“

There was a beat of silence. Then, Undyne's voice softened slightly.

„...You guys are alright, right? Nothin' weird?“

Papyrus blinked.

„WE ARE PERFECTLY FINE! SANS ONLY SLEPT FOR SIXTEEN HOURS STRAIGHT! WHICH IS AN IMPROVEMENT! HE ONCE SLEPT FOR TWO DAYS STRAIGHT!!“

From his chair, Sans mumbled around a mouthful of syrupy, pleading pancakes. „world record, bro.“

„SEE?? WORLD RECORD!! WE'RE DOING BETTER THAN EVER!“ Papyrus beamed proudly into the phone.

Undyne gave a short, rough laugh, but there was something heavy behind it.

„Yea, okay. Stay sharp, boneheads.“

„CONSIDER US SHARPENED!“ Papyrus saluted hard enough that he nearly hit the kitchen cabinet.

The line went dead, and Papyrus put the reciever down like he'd just finished a battle. He turned, puffing up proudly.

„UNDYNE WANTS US TO REMAIN VIGILANT! WHICH I ALREADY AM!! I SPOTTED A DUST BUNNY IN THE HALLWAY THIS MORNING!“

Sans grinned, swallowing another pancake, they were neverending. He started to feel worried about his stomach and the crying pancakes.

„yea? did you win?“

Papyrus scowled, arms crossed. „THE BUNNY RETREATED.. THIS TIME.“

Sans chuckled slowly, but the laugh didn't quite reach his eyes.

Undyne's tone still echoed at the back of his mind.

She was starting to notice the craks, even if she didn't know what they were. Nobody did, not even Papyrus, who was full of syrup and optimism. Only Sans knew.

He shoved the throught away and took another bite of the half-burned pancake.

Chapter Text

The living room buzzed with the faint sound of Papyrus clanking dishes in the kitchen, humming some song. Sans was on the couch, half asleep, one sock missing. He started blankly at the ceiling fan that turned just a little too slow.

The itch at the back of his mind wouldn't go away.

He sighed, dragged himself up, and dialed Alphys.

Ring.... Ring....

Click.

„H-Hello? Sans..?“ Alphys squeaked, her voice cracking with static.

„yo, doc.“ Sans said, voice casual but tight underneath. „just checkin' in. how's Frisk?“

There was a long pause.  A rustling sound.

„They... uhh... Sans, they're about to reach Asgore.“

His blood, not that he really had blood, froze.

„yeah?“ he said, voice still light, but his bones locked up.

„Y-yeah! They're almost there!“ Alphys said. „I was just checking their signal and theyre close to the Judgement Hall. They'll be in the Throne Room any second!“

The living room seemed to tilt around Sans. Alphys obviously didn't know what the human was planning.

He forced out a slow breath, smiling like it didn't hurt.

„hm. kid's really got some.. drive, huh.“

„Y-yeah.“ Alphys laughed awkwardly. „I'm sure they'll just... talk it out! You know.. Like always! Mercy and all that stuff, r-right?“

Sans closed his eyes for a second. He knew better. He knew exactly what was about to happen.

„thanks, alphys.“ He said suddenly, cutting her off. „gotta go.“

Before she could respond, he ended the call.

In a single blur of movement, faster than he usually bothered, Sans teleported out of the house.

The air screamed cold around him as he reappeared at the core doors of New Home, the familiar halls stretchhing out like pale, dusty veins. His footsteps were silent against the cracked stone floors. Everything around him was gold and white, but he didn't see red.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, trying to stop the shiver running through them.

Frisk was gonna do it. He knew it this time. He could feel it.

The golden hallway stretched endlessly ahead, the Judgement Hall, bathed in that soft, painful light.

For a second, he thought abour just running away. About pretending none of this was happening.

About going back to the couch and sinking into another sixteen hour nap.

But instead, he set his jaw. A useless gesture for a skeleton, and he kept walking forward.

As he neared the centre of the hall, he felt it. A faint ripple through time itself. A wrongness. Something had already changed.

And this time, he wasn't sure even he could laugh it off.

The golden light of the Judgement Hall painted Sans' bones a muted, sickly yellow.

He stood there, hands in pockets, slouched lazily. The same as always.

But inside, every nerve was drawn tight like a tripwire.

The door at the far end creaked open. Frisk stepped in.

Tiny and determinated, like Sans wasn't the same height.

Their eyes were dull and cold under the weight of their choices.

Sans' sockets narrowed slightly, but he forced a smile.

„heya.“ He said casually, like this was just another bad Monday.

The human stopped a few feet away, staring up at him without a word.

Sans let the silence drag.

He needed to know what kind of person they were today.

He pulled something out of his inner pocket. It was.. Ice cream..?

„gosh, you came earlier than i thought. i didn't have time to finish my ice cream.“ He said, looking at he human's confused expression.

„give me a minute, will you?“

He started licking the ice cream, both of them didn't move. A stupid, silly song started playing in the background, almost like someone was farting? But it was on beat.

Sans was still licking his ice cream, like it was neverending. They stared at eachothers eyes quietly as the music went on.

After exactly a minute, Frisk blinked and the ice cream was gone.

„you've been busy, huh?“ Sans spoke up, the farting song slowly fading away.

Frisk didn't answer. Just stood there.

Sans sighed, not out of exhaustion this time, but from something deeper.

„look. i get it. you gotta do what you have to, huh? survival of the fittest, right?“ His smile faltered for a split second. Even though he wasn't so fit himself.

„but lemme lay it out for you.“

He began his monolouge. The same speech.

About LOVE, Level Of Violence.

How EXP twisted your soul.

He watched Frisk's face carefully as he spoke. Nothing.

No flicker of regret. No gulit. Just... blank determination.

Maybe a glimmer of something sad way back there. Or maybe he just imagined it.

„take it from me kid.“ He said after a long pause, voice a little rougher. „you're gonna have a bad time.“

He didn't say it to scare them. He didn't even say it because he was angry anymore.

He said it because he knew.

No matter what Frisk thought they were doing, whether they though they could fix things, or undo mistakes, or just reach the barrier and forget about it.

It never ended clean.

Sans shifted slightly, pulling one hand out of his pocket. He gave them a tired shrug.

„welp. guess its up to you. that's all.“

Before he stepped aside, he spoke again.

„just don't die, i don't want to repeat this again, yea?“

Frisk stared at him for a long heartbeat. That wasn't part of his script?

Sans closed his eyes and teleported home. He knew what was going to happen.

He thought about stopping the human. He thought about stepping forward and throwing everything he had at them.

But. He didn't. Not yet. Not this time.

He didn't like doing things the hard way.

The king was dead.

The underground was different.

Colder. Quieter. Wrong.

Sans felt it the moment he stepped back into Snowdin. Word traveled fast when it was bad news.

He was almost at the house when Papyrus burst out the door, scarf flapping wildly behind him.

„SANS, SANS!!“ Papyrus called, his voice cracking halfway.

Sans barely managed to catch him before Papyrus practically tackled him.

„IT'S.. IT'S TRUE, ISN'T IT?!“ Papyrus' voice tremledd in a way Sans hadn't heard since they were little. „THE KING.. HE'S..!!“

Sans didn't answer right away. Just kept his hands lightly on Papyrus' shoulders, steadying him.

Finally, he gave a tiny nod.

Papyrus' hands curled into fists at his sides.

„WHO WOULD DO THIS?!“ He demanded.

His voice broke again, and he looked down, almost ashamed of how upset he was.

Sans didn't have the heart do tell him the truth. They hugged for a while and then Undyne called.

She was curing everyone out and she sounded real pissed. Undyne also knew who did it, but she also didn't tell Papyrus.

Alphys called later.

Sans picked up on the third ring, slouched on the couch back home while Papyrus tried to distract himself in the kitchen by making another batch of spaghetti.

„Sans.. Is it.. I-Is it true..?“ Alphys' voice cracked with static.

„yup.“ Sans said softly.

He heard a sniffle on the other end.

„I... I thought I was helping them.. I thought they just wanted to go home..“ Her voice broke down into a sob. „I-I didn't know!!!“

Sans closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing the bridge of his nose. „wasn't your fault, alphys.“ He muttered.

„But it was!!“ She wailed. „I-I opened the doors, Sans! I trusted them!! I-„ Her voive dissolved into messy crying.

Sans stayed on the line, letting her cry, offering nothing but quiet breathing anf a low, tired voice when she needed it.

When Alphys finally ran out of tears, she whispered „I'm sorry..“ like it could change anything.

Sans just mumbled, „yeah. me too.“ And hung up gently.

It was late at night, Papyrus was sleeping and Sans was at the kitchen table, debating if he should call Frisk. Just to leave a message.

Ring.. Ring..

„hello? is anyone there..? well, doesn't matter, i'll just leave a message.“

There was a long pause.

„you've made a snowman really happy. but i guess i should say something else too.“

He was quiet for a second.

„soo.. ever since you left, its been kind of grim. the queen returned, but cause of her policy for humans, Undyne took over as the empress of the underground and the queen returned to the ruins.“

He looked up at the starry sky, it was 2AM. Then he continued.

„there's not much to say after that. you died a lot though, which was frustating.“ He said, forcing a smile, even though the human couldn't see it through the phone.

„if you have any good left in you, don't come back. you're not welcome.“ He said, hanging up the phone.

A couple weeks later, everything was slowly returning to normal. Everyone was starting to adapt to this new life.

Undyne was a great leader, she made the royal guard even bigger. She even gave Papyrus a position.

It was a lazy, grey afternoon when Papyrus came bursting through the door.

Sans, half-asleep on the couch, cracked open one bleary eye just in time to see his brother trip over the welcome mat in excitement.

„SANS!!“ Papyrus yelled, voice vibrating with energy.

„SANS!! YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENED!“

Sans yawned, stretching lazily. „lemme guess.“ He mumbled.

„you finally beat that racoon at grillby's in arm-wrestling?“

Papyrus rolled his eyes dramatically. „WELL.. NOT YET. BUT THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER!!“

„you made edible spaghetti?“ Sans snickered.

„NO!! BETTER THAN THAT!“ Papyrus actually started bouncing in place, fists clenched in exctitement,

„JUST LISTEN. I GOT INTO THE ROYAL GUARD!!!“ Papyrus shouted.

For a second, the whole house stayed still. Sans stared. Papyrus beamed.

„....what's your position..?“ Sans asked, actually shocked, but glad.

„SHE TOLD ME I HAVE THE MOST IMPORTANT POSITION. I HAVE TO STAND AND LOOK CUTE. WHICH I CAN ALREADY DO, SO I'M BASCIALLY A NATURAL!!“

Papyrus looked like he was about to explose with pride.

„hope you're ready for a lot of paperwork and standing.. i mean a lot of standing..“ Sans teased.

„STANDING IS ONE OF MY SPECIALTIES!!“ Papyrus declared, hands on his hips proudly.

Sans laughed, a low, warm sound he hadn't made in weeks.

He got up, stretching until his spine cracked, and he headed towards the kitchen.

„c'mon, paps. a royal guard needs a royal breakfast, right?“

Papyrus gasped. „YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME BREAKFAST?!“

Sand wiggled his fingers omnously. „the spookiest, laziest brekfast you've ever seen.“

Papyrus beamed like the sun.

They ended up burning the toast, the eggs stuck to the pan, the bacon someohow became a rock?

None of it mattered, because they were laughing.

Laughing so hard Papyrus dropped a pan on his foot.

Laughing so hard Sans leaned against his brother to stay upright.

It was almost like nothing happened.

After they finally gave up of the food and just shared a bowl of cereal, Papyrus looked over at him.

„SANS.“ He said, voice unusually soft. „DO YOU THINK.. THINGS WILL BE OKAY?“

Sans paused, spoon halfway to his mouth.

He saw the hope in his brother's eyes. The desperate belief that things could still get better.

Sans had the smallest, saddest smile.

„yeah, paps.“ he said. „i think... if you're out there guardin' stuff, things will be just fine.“

Papyrus' grin returned, blindingly bright.

Sans leaned back in his chair, watching him rattle off plans for building „THE COOLEST GAURD POST IN HISTORY.“ and how he was going to „GUARD THE UNDERGROUNF SO WELL, EVEN DUST WOULDN'T SNEAK BY!“

And deep down, in the heavy corners of his chest, Sans let himself hope too.

Even if he still wasn't sure. Even if he knew better.

Still.

Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

Chapter Text

The cold air nipped at Sans' exposed bones, but he barely noticed.

He was slouched lazily against his station, a battered wooden shack next to the towering stone pillars at the edge of the Ruins' door, scarfing down a questionable hotdog while a battered ketchup bottle wedged in between the snow beside him.

The bottle let out a sad, wet splurt every time he squeezed it, adding a generous splash of red onto the bun. He didn't even bother using a plate. Or a napkin.

Standards? What were those?

He stared at the treeline, waiting. For what? He wasn't so sure himself.

He squeezed more ketchup onto the hotdog until it overflowed onto his sleeve. Sans just stared at it, then took a massive bite.

The snow was falling heavier now, flakes piling on the trees like thick frosting. The wind rattled the bare branches above, a lonely sound in the otherwise empty woods.

And then, a flicker of movement.

There, at the edge of the forest trail, a small figure appeared, wearing a shirt too big, and shoes not fit fot this kind of snow.

A human.

The human.

The moment Sans laid eyes on them, it hit him like a train.

A deep, dizzying rush of familiarity, like he'd been standing right here before, waiting for this exact moment.

He swallowed the too large bite of hot dog with difficulty, thumping his chest once with his fist.

„heh.. either i'm gettin' really good at predicting the future, or you and i are stuck in some kind of.. spicy deja vu, kid.“

The human blinked at him, confused but smiling nervously.

They muttered something about feeling like they'd met him before too, that he seemed really familiar, like an old memory you couldn't quite place.

Of course they knew him, they were the player after all.

Sans chuckled, wiping ketchup off his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

„guess you could say we're.. ketchupin' on old times.“

The human chuckled just a little. A warm bright sound that melted a little of the chill around them.

They stepped closer, brushing snow off their shoulders, and told Sans about their trip through the Ruins. The puzzles, the monsters, the talking rock.

„talking rocks, huh? man, if stones start spilling the tea, i'm outta my job.“

The human giggled a little, covering their mouth his their little hands.

Sans leaned casually against the wall of his shack, letting the conversation flow naturally despite the weight pressing against his soul. Every sentance they spoke sounded like an echo of something he'd already heard, the same small worries, the same awkward introductions.

It made his spine itch in a way no hotdog could fix.

Still, he smiled lazily and pointed down the snowy path.

„anyway, kid. i know someone who's been dyin' to meet you.“

The human tilted their head, curious.

Sans winked.

„my brother's been dreaming of seeing a real human for ages. he's practising his 'HUMAN CAPTURING' techniques and stuff. real high-lever stuff. gonna involve, uhh... nets, i think. and maybe spaghetti. real advanced tactics, i dunno.“

The human smiled and agreed.

„c'mon, i'll take you to him. he isn't dangerous, even when he tries to be.“

Sans straightened up, brushing off snow from his jacket.

Together, they started walking down the trail, their feet crunching the snow in rhythm.

Sans shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, a small lazy smile still on his face. But underneath the jokes and the ketchup stains, his mind was racing.

Something was wrong. Something had always been wrong.

He didn't know how many more times he could pretend everything was fine.

But at the same time, he thought he was going insane. He only met the human, Frisk, that is. But he was never sure.

For now, he'd just walk the snowy road with the kid. And maybe, just maybe, everything would be fine.

The snowy path twisted and turned through the forest, powdered in fresh coat of white. Sans followed along, his usual grin in place, while Papyrus marched ahead with gleaming enthusiasm.

„NYEH HEH HEH! HUMAN!! YOU ARE APPROACHING THE NEXT PUZZLE! PREPARE YOURSELF FOR A TEST OF BRAINS AND... SPAGHETTI!!!“ Papyrus struck a dramatic pose, nearly slipping on an icy patch.

Sans snorted quietly behind him.

Frisk just giggled, the soft sound warm in this cold air.

Sans watched them, something tightening deep in his chest, a feeling he couldn't name yet. But it made his soul ache.

They got to the color tile puzzle, they waited for the human there.

Sans leaned lazily against the walls, hands deep in his pockets.

Papyrus was still talking, about puzzle ethics, trap safety standards, and the importance of presentation. Then he turned to Sans, beaming.

„ISN'T THE HUMAN JUST.. SO NICE, BROTHER?!“ Papyrus said, practically vibrating with excitement. „I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE IT! I THOUGHT HUMANS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE TERRIBLE MONSTERS!!“

Sans chuckled under his breath.

„yeah, kid's got more kindness than ketchup in my fridge... and thats saing something.“

Papyrus gave a hearly smile and turned back to encourage Frisk.

Sans stayed quiet for a moment, watching them.

The human smiled so easily. So genuinely. Their laughter echoed in the cold, fragile air.

He wanted to badly to believe this could last.

They moved onto another puzzle, the „SNOW PAPYRUS AND SANS“ statues puzzle. Papyrus chatted hapilly at Sans' side, talking about puzzle design, new spaghetti recipes, and how Undyne would surely accept him into the Royal Guard after this.

Sans nodded along, throwing in a lazy comment or a pun when he could.

And while they were waiting for the human, it happened.

Frisk died, and respawned.

It wasn't dramatic

It wasn't loud.

Sans' smile cracked.

Somewhere, deep inside his skull, alarms were blaring, screaming at him that this was so wrong.

The world around him dimmed. Papyrus' voice became a distant, muffled noise.

And then. Flash. Reset.

They were back.

Standing at the snowball puzzle. Fresh tracks in snow. No footprint ahead.

Papyrus launched right back into his earlier speech. Words identical.

„ISN'T THE HUMAN JUST... SO NICE, BROTHER?!“

Sans staggered slightly, catching himself against a rock.

The exact same words, the exact same laugh from Papyrus, the same scene, the same cold, the same heavy feeling in his chest.

But now, now he remembered. All of it.

He rememebered the human. He remembered the silence. The way the world itself had blinked, like a light going out.

And now it was happening again.

Sans laughed weakly, trying to hide the shaking in his voice.

„hah.. yea, bro.. a real heart-melter.“

Papyrus glanced at him, the way he sometimes did when Sans was unusually quiet.

„..BROTHER?“

Sans flinched almost imperceptibly at the sound.

Papyrus quieted down and spoke again, tilting his head in concern.

„YOU'RE.. ACTING STRANGE.“ His voice was unsure, soften than usual. „I MEAN.. STRANGER THAN USUAL..“

Sans swallowed thickly, hiding the twist in his gut.

„nah.“ He said easily, waving a hand. „just.. got a lil' chill from the snow, bro. no big deal. maybe i need a scarf half as cool as yours.“

Papyrus narrowed his eyes, not buying it. „SANS, YOU LOVE THE COLD. YOU ONCE SLEPT IN THE FREEZER FOR A WEEK BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO LAZY TO LEAVE!!“

Sans snickered, but it was weak, brittle. „heh.. guess i'm just... snowverwhelmed today.“

Papyrus gave him a look so sharp, Sans almost passed out.

He could feel his brother's sincerity, the rare, raw worry behind that loud, goofy exterior.

Sans quickly bumped his shoulder into Papyrus' hip, cause he was about that tall.

„c'mon, bro. don't get your bones in a twist. i'm fine.. just.. thinking about dinner plans. maybe spaghetti..? with a side of.. more spaghetti.“

Papyrus gasped, the topic instantly derailing his worry like Sans knew it would.

„MORE SPAGHETTI?! BROTHER, I AM ALWAYS PLANNING FOR THAT! IN FACT, I HAVE A NEW RECIPE INVOLVING THREE DIFFERENT KINDS OF TOMATO SAUCE!!“

Sans chuckled a little, already afraid about his next stomachache, but he was also just scared.

As Papyrus launched unto an enthusiastic monolouge about sauce viscosity and optimal noodle elasticity, Sans let the sound wash over him.

His mind, though, was far away.

He remembered too much, the reset slamming into him like a train.

And yet here he is, pretending and smiling.

Because if Papyrus knew the truth, if Papyrus knew how broken everything really was-

He'd never smile again. Sans couldn't let that happen.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. Maybe he could fake it a little longer. Just long enough for his brother to stay happy.

The kitchen smelled like burnt hope and stubborn love.

Papyrus slurped another tangled mass of spaghetti and launched into a detalied plan about building a „PUZZLE OBSTACLE COURSE THAT ALSO TEACHES TABLE MANNERS!“

„ok.“ Sans barely touched his food. He gave a few snickers when Papyrus paused for a reaction, just enough to seem normal.

But Papyrus noticed, he always noticed. Well, sometimes.

After a few minutes, Ppayrus set down his fork with an exaggerated clink and crossed his arms.

„YOU'RE BEING QUIETER THAN USUAL, SANS.“ He said, narrowing his eyes dramatically.

„AND THAT IS SAYING SOMETHING, SINCE YOU ARE USUALLY AS QUIET AS A ... AS A NINJA! A NINJA MADE OF MARSHMALLOWS!!“

Sans forced a chuckle, twirling a fork in the spaghetti mess. „heh.. guess i'm just pasta my bedtime.“

Normally, that would have gotten a groan, maybe a dramatic swoon about how terrible the pun was.

But tonight, Papyrus didn't fight back.

Instead, he frowned. A rare, serious frown that looked strange on his usually sunny face.

In the distance, Grillby was crackling. Louder than ever.

„SANS.“ He said, his voice dipping lower, softer, almost afraid to ask. „ARE YOU ALRIGHT, BROTHER..? IS SOMETHING WRONG?“

Sans' grin faltered for half a second, barely a twitch, but he quickly masked it, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

„nah, bro, just.. tired, y'know? stayin' up late. thinking about... hotdogs.. and ketchup??“

Papyrus didn't laugh, he kept staring.

Sans turned his gaze towards the widnow, pretending to admire the dark snowy night outside. He could feel Papyrus' concern like a heavy sweater he couldn't take off.

The silence dragged.

Papyrus cleared his throat, a loud, awkward sound, and shoved a plate of slightly-less-burnt spaghetti towards his brother.

„EAT, SANS.“ He insisted, trying to sound firm but ending up somewhere between a worried parent and a hopeful friend. „YOU NEED ENERGY TO BE YOUR BEST BONELY SELF!!“

Sans smiled thinly, picking up his fork and pretending to dig in. He could do this.

After dinner, Sans plopped back onto the couch, letting his bones melt into the cushions. Papyrus clattered around the kitchen, humming off-key and loudly narrating how he was „CLEANING LIKE A TRUE ROYAL GUARD!“

The loud noise was comforting. Familiar. Almost enough to drown out the buzzing under Sans' skin. God he wanted ketchup. His biggest problem was the fact that there was no ketchup in the house. God. He wanted ketchup...

What also broke him was the thought of his son, Sans Junior.

„my son...“ Sans muttered, quietly enough so Papyrus wouldn't hear him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the house sounds lull him.

Papyrus' humming, the scrape of dishes, the low hum of the heater.

Safe and normal.

„SANS?“

Sans cracked his eyes opened.

Papyrus was standing there with a blanket, looking absurdly serious.

„YOU.. YOU FELL ASLEEP AT DINNER, YOU KNOW.“ He said, sounding almost scolding. „YOU DIDN'T EAT MUCH.. I.. I THINK YOU SHOULD GO TO BED.“

Sans chuckled dryly.

„heh.. whaddya mean? i am in bed. couch-bed.“

Papyrus frowned deeper. It was that serious Papyrus face again, rare and kind of unsettling.

„..IF YOU'RE SAD, YOU CAN TALK TO ME.“ Papyrus blurted, almost in a rush. „I AM GREAT AT CHEERING PEOPLE UP!! I COULD EVEN START CHARGING FOR IT!“

Sans chuckled again, but this time it cracked around the edges.

„nah, bro.. you're already priceless.“

Papyrus beamed a little, but the worry never quite left his eyes.

He tossed the blanket over Sans, tucking it in awkwardly around his knees as if he was a little child.

„GOOD NIGHT, SANS!“ Papyrus said, lingering a bit around the couch.

Papyrus turned off the lights, leaving only the faint glow of the heater and the moonlight spilling through the window.

Sans listened to Papyrus' footsteps climbing the stairs.

Listened to the creak of his door closing, listening to the house settling.

And then, he started at the ceiling for a long time. The memories itched at the back of his skull. New and old and impossibly wrong. Piling up until he couldn't tell where one timeline ended and where one began.

The couch groaned as he shifted, pulling the blanket tighter.

He was so tired. Tired in a way that even ketchup couldn't fix. Tired down to the marrow of his bones.

Tomorrow, Frisk would come through again. Maybe they'd be kind. Maybe they'd kill. Maybe the whole thing would start over before they could reach the next puzzle.

He didn't know. He just knew it would happen.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The next morning came slower than usual.

Sans dragged himself off the couch around noon, still tangled in the blanket Papyrus had put over him. His bones ached in that strange way they did after resets. Not pain, exactly, but a heaviness, like he was carrying it all by himself.

Papyrus had already left, judging by the note stuck to the fridge: „I AM HANGING OUT WITH UNDYNE!! I'LL BRING BACK SPAGHETTI: THE REVENGE!!“

Oh damn, Sans rememebered that pasta which actually took his energy for itself.

Next to the note, there was a badly-drawn smiley face. At least Papyrus was still Papyrus.

Sans poured himself a cup of coffee, barely warm, and slumped into the nearset chair.

The buzzing of his phone pulled him out of his fog.

A text message.

Alphys: „heyyyyyy sanss! r u free today?? come over if you want, i got some NEW ANIME we can watch! :3“

Another buzz.

Alphys: „i also fixed mettadon! so he won't start singing if you dont want him too! ;-;“

Sans stared at the message for a second longer than necessary. Then, with a lazy stretch, he texted back.

„on my way.“

The road to Alphys' lab was baked in that weird hotland heat that always made his bones feel extra breakable. He shuffled along the rocks, hands deep in his pockets.

When he reached the lab, the sliding door wheezed open with its usual beep-boop greeting.

Inside, Alphys was wearing a tshirt and sweatpants, a DVD case clutched in her hands.

„S-Sans..!“ She spoke nervously. „You made it! I-I was just about to, uh, set up this new anime I found!“ She said, her voice shaky and low like always.

From the couch, Mettadon waved one elegant, mechanical hand. „Darling, you're just in time! We were about to embark on a journey of tragic love, unrealistic body proportions and overly dramatic plot twist.“

That was it. That was literally the name of the anime.

„hm. sounds kinda sunday.“

Alphys blushed furiously, pushing up her glasses.

„Y-you're gonna love it! It's.. uhh.... It's really heartfelt! And... and... the artstyle improves after the first season, I swear!!“

Mettadon leaned closer to Sans with a smirk. „Prepare yourself darling. Your soul might not make it due to sheer amount of glitters and sparkles.“

„gosh.. sounds tear-able.“

No one laughed.

Chapter Text

Undyne's house was, in a word, chaotic. Pots clanged, spices flew, and a suspicious amount of yelling was being exchanged over whether or not paprika was a real seasoning.

„Papyrus, I said a pinch, not seven handfulls!!“ Undyne shouted from behind the counter, covered in flecks of tomato sauce.

Papyrus beamed, holding a spice container like it was the Spear of Justice itself. „IF WE DO NOT SEASON IT WITH INTESITY, WE AREN'T REALLY COOKING, WE ARE JUST HEATING UP FOOD!!“

Meanwhile, Sans sat at the corner of the table, legs kicked up on the chair, swirling a mug of tea. Not ketchup. Tea. Undyne had insisted that he had a problem. The tea was her favourite, which smelled vaguely like peppermint and something that had once caught on fire.

„not bad.“ Sans muttered between sips, though he didn't know if he meant the tea or the moment.

The kitchen glowed warm with heat and loudness, full of life. Papyrus was bustling between the counter and the fridge like a hurricane in an apron, and Undyne was bellowing corrections while dodging ladles like it was a combat sport.

All while Sans just watched. And listened.

„You gonna help or just be a noodle with a mug?“ Undyne called, snapping him from his thoughts.

„i am helping, helping you finish this tea.“ Sans said, taking another sip.

Papyrus appeared beside him holding a pan upside down, there was sauce in it, and it was not moving. „SANS, TELL HER MY SAUCE IS TOO POWERFUL FOR MORTALS!“

„nah, bro.“ Sans said with a slow shake of his head. „your sauce could make time itself cry... just not in a good way..“

Undyne snorted. „He's not wrong. This smells like you tried to cook ambition and lit the pan on fire with your ego.“

Papyrus scoffed and crossed his arms. „I TAKE THAT AS A COMPLIMENT!!“

They kept at it, bickering, laughing, bumping into one another as flour dusted the air and something sizzled suspiciously behind them. Sans sat, tea now cold, but he didn't care.

Because these were the rare moments that felt real. Earned.

Even if, in the back of his mind, a cruel truth whispered: This could all reset tomorrow.

Still, for now? He'd let it be real.

„y'know.“ Sans started, grinning as Papyrus flambeed something entirely by accident. „i always knew that fire in the kitchen wasn't just methaphorical.“

Undyne threw a dish at him.

The kitchen table creaked beneath the weight of their culinary victory, if one could call it that. A steaming pile of lasagna-stew-spaghetti sat in the centar, bubbling slightly at the edges like it wasn't entirely finished cooking, or maybe it had developed sentience and was trying to escape. Perhaps it was crackling, just like Grillby.

„FEAST YOUR EYES, FRIENDS! THIS IS A DISH OF DESTINY!! A RECIPE THAT TRANSCENDS THE BOUNDARIES OF COMMON SENSE AND MEASURING SPOONS!!!!“ Papyrus presented it with pride only a true oblivious chef could muster.

Undyne, arms crossed and still dusted with flour, eyes the dish warily. „So... what was supposed to happen again?“

„I COMBINED MY THREE BEST DISHES!“ Papyrus explained, adjusting his battle spoon. „USING THE POWER OF PASSION!! AND A RATHER GENEROUS AMOUNT OF CAYENNE PEPPER!“

„ah.“ Sans said, setting down his cold mug of tea. „so that's what burned through the countertop.“

They all sat down, Sans took the seat closest to the exit. Just in case.

Undyne served herself with a groan and a shrug. „Well, I've survived worse.“ She scooped up a portion, the spoon straining under the weight, and dumped it on her plate. It made a sound that could only be described as 'sqwrch'.

Papyrus plated Sans' portion with reverence, like he was delivering an offering to a ketchup-loving god. „DON'T WORRY, BROTHER. I MADE SURE TO LEAVE OUT MOST OF THE.. UH, BONES!!“

Bones..?

„appriciated. my dentist has been givin' me the look lately.“

They all took their first bite simultaneously.

There was silence.

Papyrus chewed with eyes full of sparkling hope.

Undyne's eye twitched, the heat hitting her like a fire spell. She coughed once, violently, then slapped the table and laughed. „WOAH! That's got some kick.“

Sans stared blankly at his fork. „not bad..“ He said slowly. „has the.. texture of regret, with a strong finish of char.“

Papyrus smiled strongly. „WOWIE, YOU GUYS THINK IT'S THAT GOOD? MAYBE I SHOULD MAKE IT MORE OFTEN..“

Halfway through the meal, they discovered the bottom of the dish had turned into something similar to concrete. The flavor was.. ambitious. One side of the lasagna was undercooked and wet, the other charred and fused to the pan like a fossil.

Still, they kept eating. Kind of??

They talked and joked between foced bites. Sans shared a few groan-worthy puns about 'well-done' dinners and 'burning hope'. Undyne threw her spoon at him, perhaps to get an excuse to stop eating or because Sans was mimicking trying to give his food CPR.

Undyne shoved a spoon into her mouth, trying her best to chew. „...Okay, I can't feel my tongue.“

„THAT MEANS IT'S WORKING!!!“ Papyrus beamed, proudly stirring the remaining mystery stew with a ladle that bent slightly under the weight.

Sans chuckled from his seat, cradling a teacup far from delicately for that moment. He leaned back, feet on the corner of the table, sipping with the kind of serenity only a skeleton who's been through too much could muster. The tea was warm. Calming. It didn't help much.

Papyrus and Undyne clinked their cups again. „TO CHEF EXCELLENCE!!“ Papyrus announced.

„And to our stomachs, which may never recover.“ Undyne added.

But still, they laughed.

Genuine, loud, echoing laughter filled the room. Maybe it was the disaster of the food, or shared survival, or maybe it was only the comfort of being together, even in this state.

Eventually, they gave up trying to finish the meal.

Papyrus stood up and picked up what remained, which was a lot. „SANS, WE SHALL SAVE THE REST FOR LUNCH TOMORROW!“

Sans and Undyne looked at each other, and it was almost like she told him 'good luck'.

Sans cleared his throat and finally spoke. „i'm sure it'll be even more dangerous with time.“ He said, stretching.

Undyne leaned back in her chair, sighing. „This was terrible.“

Papyrus smiled. „THANK YOU, UNDYNE!!!“

And despite the disaster, they stayed a little longer, telling stories, sipping leftover tea. Then, slowly, Sans slid his teacup out of sight, and replaced it with something else.. something.. red. Something in a suspiciously squeezable bottle.

„Hey, HEY!“ Undyne barked. „That's my emergeny ketchup stash!!“

Sans grinned with the innocence of a cat caught mid-counter heist. „you really shouldn't keep your valuables in bold places.“

„Sans.“ Undyne warned, her eyes narrowing.

Papyrus looked at him dramatically. „COME ON, SANS!!“

Sans met their stares as he uncapped the ketchup bottle. „what can i say.“ he said, squeezing a long, splurting, loud, unbroken line into his teacup. „some like it hot.. i like it.. processed and questionably shelf-stable.“

He sipped.

Undyne looked horrified. „What is wrong with you?!“

Sans grinned. „must be a saucial disorder.“

Papyrus groaned into both of his hands. „WHY MUST YOU DEFILE EVERYTHING WHOLESOME.“

„c'mon bro. tea's nice, but ketchup? ketchup gets me.“ Sans leaned back, but his grin faltered, just for a second, They didn't see it. He quickly lifted his cup to hide his face. „you know me.“

Papyrus threw his napkin like a flag of surrender. „I REFUSE TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH THIS BEHAVIOR!“

Sans rolled his eyes and took a sip from his teacup, where now was ketchup. „you were yelling about meatballs like they were your long lost sons.“

Undyne leaned back, arms crossed, trying not to smile. „This is why you're not allowed in my kitchen unsupervised.“

Outside, the Waterfall winds howled softly, a faint sound of a music-box in the distance was heard. Grillby's crackling was also heard. But inside, the three of them sat like survivors. Papyrus' dinner survivors.

For once, even Sans let himself feel.. light.

Even if the weight of reset after reset was still curled like smoke at the edges of his mind.

The metallic air of Hotland pusles with heat. Copper pipes hissed and shuddered overhead, and the floor radiated warmth through Sans' slippers with every lazy step he took. His hot dog stand stood lopsided, plastered with a hand-drawn sign that had faded into near dust. „HOT DOGS. VERY LEGIT. DEFENITELY NOT A TRAP!!“ Of course, Papyrus wrote that, saying it was very inviting.

Sans wiped his skull with a napkin, out of sheer habit rather than need. The ketchup bottle placed loyally by his elbow, half-drained and warm. A sleepy sigh drifted from his mouth as he slouched behind the cart, sipping ketchup straight from the bottle like it owned him rent.

Then. Footsteps.

Soft. Barely there. The kind you'd only notice if you were already listening for them.

He didn't look up right away. Just tilted his head a little, leting the slow grin creep in.

„hey kid.“ He said casually, before they were even fully around the corner. „long time no see.“

Frisk appeared, quiet as ever, the bright shimmer of the Hotland air warping their silhuette until they were just a colorless outline. Their expression was familiar, neutral, but a little too composed. It was the kind of look someone wore when they already knew what was coming, and were trying to act like they didn't.

„you look like someone who could use a tube-shaped mystery meat.“ He said, pulling a hot dog from the steamer. „one hundred percent meat. ninety-nine percet sure it's food.“

Frisk held out gold.

Sans took it without looking. „what's the verdict, huh? gonna go all the way through this time, or take the same scenic route again?“

The words slipped out too quickly. He caught himself.

„i mean, y'know. scenic as in 'lava and death' scenic.“

Frisk took the hotdog, nodded. No eye contact.

Sans watched them eat for a moment.

There it was again, that strange pull in his chest. Like he stood here before. He knew he did.

He reached out for another hotdog.

The steamer hissed. Empty.

„dang. doggone.“

He rummaged through a coller behind the cart, letting the silence stretch too long. Then he resurfaced, holding a hot cat by its floppy, oddly soggy bun.

„well, if it ain't your lucky day. limited edition hot cat. slightly less barking.“

Frisk took it gently. They didn't laugh, but their eyes flicked with something like fondness, or guilt. Maybe both.

Sans leaned forward on his elbow, bottle of ketchup spinning slowly in his fingers. „y'know.“ He said quietly. „sometimes i think i've been stuck in a rerun of my own like. like i'm some side character in a show that doesn't know how to end.“

Frisk didn't respond. They never really did when it mattered.

„but hey, maybe i'm just tired, huh.“ He added with a shrug, standing upright again. „heat can do that do you. or maybe it's the ketchup withdrawl.“

It didn't make sense, cause Sans had a ketchup bottle in his hands. Frisk just shared a faint smile.

He offered it back. Forced, maybe. But real enough.

The silence had been stretching for too long.

The steam curled around their ankles in lazy, ghost-like trails. His gaze hadn't left the kid since the moment they turned back. They hadn't walked away this time. Not yet.

„what's your plan now?“

His voice cut through the heat like a knife, not a shout, not a whisper. Just low. Stead. Almost casual.

The kid flinched.

Frisk looked down at the hot cat in their hands like it might hold the answer. The foil had crumbled slightly from their grip. They glanced back at Sans.

Confused.

Worried.

Maybe a little afraid.

Sans' eye didn't glow. He wasn't cracking jokes anymore. Just leaning against the stand like it was the only thing holding him up. His grin remained, but it looked dry now. Tired.

„you're not like others.“ He started, and there was something darker under those words. „why are you here?“

He tilted his skull, studying them.

Frisk didn't move. Their eyes fixated on him.

„you doing the whole peace and love thing this time, huh?“ He nodded to himself. „that's good. real good.“

He leaned forward, folding his arms on the cart.

„but just between you and me, kiddo..“ The grin stayed. Voice softening, almost conversational. „you've had other times.“

Frisk's expression didn't shift much, but the tremble in their fingers gave them away.

Sans' smile faltered for a second, just a second.

„i mean, i get it.“ He said. „this time, it's all peace, love and puzzle-solving. guess everyone deserves a shot, right?“

There was no sarcasm in his voice. That was what made it worse.

„....don't worry, i'm not mad.“ He said, more quietly now. „you probably had your reasons, or maybe you were just curious.“

He looked away for a moment, towards the endless stretch of Hotland. Then back. „but let's get somethin' real clear, kid.“

The tone changed again. Lower.

„you don't touch my brother.“

Frisk's mouth opened, but no sound came.

„papyrus.“ Sans clarified. „my brother. you remember him, right? tall guy, wears a scarf, cooks like it's a life or death situation?

Frisk nodded quickly. Too quickly.

„good.“ He pushed off the stand slightly, standing straight for once.

That one word hit like a falling brick.

„you don't hurt him with a knife, not with a lie, not even with one of those fake smiles you hand out like candy.“

No glow in his eyes. No threathening stance. Just a quiet, heavy certainty. A weight pressing against the heat.

Frisk's eyes were unsure. Not fear exactly, but something older. Shame maybe. A kind of haunted recognition.

„he thinks the world is a good place. he wakes up every morning excited to see it again. even on the worst days.“

Sans took a deep breath. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't make a single threat.

„he tells jokes to the mailman. leaves spaghetti in the woods in case someone's hungry. he still believes, really believes, that everyone's worth saving.“

His hands were deep in his pockets. He sighed. Almost smiled.

„and you know what's the worst part?“

Frisk didn't answer.

„he's right.“

That hung between them for a while. Frisk's grip on the hot cat had gone slack.

„but you. you have as many chances as you can get, don't you?“ Sans asked, more softly now. „you get to try again. and again. and again.“

Frisk lowered their eyes. Their silence said everything.

„so, if you're planning anything this time, if you're thinking even for a second about messin' with him, you should know..“

He smiled now.

It wasn't his usual grin.

It was smaller.

Sadder.

„i won't stop you.“

Frisk blinked.

He dusted off his clean hands.

„i don't think i could. not really. but if you do it. if you lie to him, or hurt him, or break his heart..“

He looked out across Hotland, the glow of the Core painting his face in flickers of red and gold.

„...you'll have to live with that. through every run, every load. every time you die and start over.“

His eyes flicked back to Frisk.

„and maybe you can forget. maybe everyone else will. maybe he will.“

He tapped the side of his skull lightly.

 „but i won't. i can't.“

Silence.

And more silence.

„welp.“ Sans finally said, turning towards the edge of the platform. „guess we all keep movin' forward. that's how the game's played, huh?“

Frisk didn't answer. They were already turning, heading toward the elevator again. But they paused halfway, looking over their shoulder at him.

He didn't wave. Just gave a little not. A flicker of something in his eyes, bitterness, hope, exhaustion. It was impossible to tell because he didn't really have eyes.

Frisk turned away.

As they dissapeared, Sans slouched back against the side of his stand. The laughter had drained from him. His bones ached.

He looked at the elevator.

„guess it's true.“ He muttered. „no matter how many times you try, can't ketchup to the past.“

He chuckled softly, then rubbed his face, clearly embarrased even though there was no one around him.

„...jeez, that one was terrible.“

The hot vents sighed next to him.

The door creaked open and clicked shut behind Sans.

He didn't teleport today. He walked. Every footstep along the Hotland paths had been a silent echo of what weighed on his mind.

He didn't feel like doing anything.

Frisk had looked at him like they were sorry.

But a sorry didn't fix things.

He kicked off his slippers at the entrance with barely any noise, eyes sunken, the usual slouch in his spine now more pronounced. The TV buzzed in the background, tuned to some old cooking show neither of them actually liked. The house was warm, smelled like over-boiled noodles and optimism.

Papyrus wasn't in the room.

Sans slumped into the couch with a heavy sigh. The cushions hissed a little under his weight, and he stared blankly at the TV.  That alone was unusual.

From the kitchen, there was a clatter, metal meeting tile, then a proud shout.

„NYEH HEH HEH!! THIS BATCH SHALL BE MY MOST MAGNIFICENT CREATION YET... WITH A HINT OF CINNAMON!“

Footsteps. And then Papyrus, in full apron that still read 'KISS THE CHEF', peeked into the living room.

„OH, BROTHER! YOU'RE HOME!!“

Sans didn't look up. Just a small nod.

Papyrus' smile faltered. „YOU'RE LATE!! I WAS BEGGINING TO SUSPECT YOU HAD BEEN ABDUCTED, OR WORSE, FORCED TO EAT BURGERS.“

What's with Papyrus and abduction?

Still, no reply.

Papyrus stepped closer, watching him more closely. „DID THE HUMAN.. SAY SOMETHING ODD AGAIN? OR DID YOU RUN OUT OF KETCHUP? OR.. WAIT!! DID THEY ASK FOR A VEGAN OPTION!??“

Sans gave a breathy, humorless chuckle. „nah, just.. had a long one, paps.“

„YOU WALKED, DIDN'T YOU..????!!“

Sans shrugged, still not facing him.

„YOU ALWAYS TELEPORT!! IT'S YOUR THING, SANS! YOUR BRAND!“

Silence.

Papyrus, for once, didn't push. He crossed the room and sat beside him, apron flour-dusted, oven mittens still on.

„OKAY, BROTHER! REAL TALK.“ He declared, turning slightly towards him. „YOU'RE NOT SMILING. YOU'RE NOT EVEN MAKING PUNS! AND YOUR EYE SOCKETS LOOK LIKE LITTLE PITS OF DESPAIR!!“

Sans blinked slowly, as if proccesing each word with effort.

„YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING.“ Papyrus continued, lowering his voice just slighty. „BUT YOU CAN!! I'M NOT JUST A FANTASTIC COOK, I'M ALSO A FANTACTIC LISTENER!“

Sans leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

„i saw somethin'. or maybe... i remembered it.“ He muttered. „stuff i wish i could forget.“

Papyrus' brows furrowed. „LIKE THAT TIME YOU TRIED TO MICROWAVE A TACO STILL WRAPPED IN FOIL?“

„nah. worse.“

Papyrus was quiet for a second, then stood up with determination.

„WAIT HERE.“ He said.

He dissapeared into the kitchen, returning with a steaming bowl. It smelled vauely like cinnamon and regret with a hint of sorrow.

„I MADE SPAGHETTI. I THINK. YOU WILL EAT IT. AND THEN YOU WILL FEEL BETTER!! IT EVEN HAS A SECRET INGRIDIENT!!“

Sans raised a brow. „is it hope?

Papyrus grinned. „CINNAMON!“

Sans actually gave a soft huff of air through his nose. Not quiet a laugh. But close.

Papyrus set the plate down on Sans' lap and sat beside him on the couch. „EAT UP!! I TRIED A NEW TECHNIQUE. IT'S CALLED 'AGGRESSIVE WHISKING'.“

Sans picked up the fork, twirled the spaghetti. It was... dense. Possibly still alive. „looks like it fought back.“

„IT DID! BUT I WON!!“

They ate in silence for a while. Papyrus slurped happily. Sans chewed slowly, more out of obligation than hunger.

Eventually, Papyrus looked over and said. „I KNOW YOU GET... STRANGE, SOMETIMES. WHEN THE HUMAN DOES THINGS THAT YOU FIND WEIRD. EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT REALLY SURE WHAT THOSE THINGS ARE..“

Sans tensed slightly.

„I DON'T ALWAYS UNDERSTAND IT, BUT I KNOW SOMETHING'S WRONG WHEN YOU STOP TELLING PUNS.“

Sans looked down at his plate. The spaghetti twirled in pain.

Papyrus nudged him with his elbow. „SO, HOW ABOUT IT? GIVE ME ONE. JUST ONE GOOD PUN.“
Sans stayed quiet for a beat.

„told a hot dog it was adopted.“ He said slowly. „it couldn't ketchup with the truth.“

Papyrus groaned, eyes wide. „SANS! THAT WAS AWFUL!! I.. LOVE IT!!!“
„yeah.“ Sans muttered, a ghost of a grin appeared on his face. „i missed bein' awful.“

Papyrus' face lit up like the christmas tree. „THERE HE IS!! THE WORST COMEDIAN IN SNOWDIN!“

Sans gave a short chuckle. „rude.“

They finished eaating, somehow. Papyrus insisted on making tea. He bustled around the kitchen like nothing was wrong, but Sans noticed the glances, concern behind the cheer.

They sat at the table afterwards, sipping the vaguely drinkable tea.

Papyrus kept up the chatter, filling the room with nonsense and hope. Stories about a spider he saw doing pushups. And he also said he became friends with his long-sworn enemy, the trash racoon behind Grillby's.

And Sans, he didn't laugh. But he didn't stay completely quiet either.

Somewhere between the sips of lukewarm tea and the warmth of his brother's presence, the weight in his chest eased.

Not gone, but bearable.

He sat hunched in his chair at the round wooden table that was wobbling a little. A half-full mug of tea cradled between his palms. Across from him, Papyrus sat upright, legs crossed, sipping from a mug with the word 'BONE' printed on it. He had found it in a shop and called it fate.

They'd been sitting like that for a while.

„YOU'RE STILL BROODING.“ Papyrus said at last, not looking up.

Sans didn't answer. He kept his eyes on the tea, as if it might start swirling on its own and reveal some deeper truth inside.

„I KNOW THAT LOOK.“ Papyrus went on. „THAT'S YOUR 'I HAVE SOMETHING BIG ON MY MIND BUT I'M GONNA PRETEND IT'S JUST INDIGESTION'.“

Sans gave a weak huff. „well, yea. could be the tea. you didn't accidentally add dread into it, did you?“

„I CHECKED THE BOX AND THAT WASN'T AN INGREDIENT.“

Papyrus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. „YOU HAVEN'T MADE A SINGLE REAL PUN IN THREE HOURS. I'M STARTING TO THINK YOU'RE BROKEN.“

„guess i'm just... unplugged.“

Papyrus didn't laugh. His expression stayed gentle, but firm. „SERIOUSLY, SANS!! WHAT'S GOING ON?“

Sans looked away, jaw clenched. He wanted to laugh it off. He always did. He wanted to say he was just tired, or something equally lazy.

„it's just one of those days.“ He mumbled, eyes still down. „you ever get that feeling? like something's gonna go wrong. but you already know you can't stop it.“

Papyrus frowned. „DOES THIS HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE HUMAN, FRISK?“

Sans flinched, a beat of silence.

„...nah.“ He lied. „they're just... weird. but harmless.“

Papyrus watched him closely. „YOU'RE AFRAID OF SOMETHING.“

Sans shrugged.

„OR YOU'RE SAD.“

„maybe both.“

Papyrus sat up straighter, determination flaring in his eyes. „WELL THEN. GOOD THING I'M THE GREATEST BROTHER IN THE UNDERGROUND!!“

Sans blinked up at him. „you got somethin' up your sleeve?“

„MORE THAN ONE THING!“ Papyrus said dramatically. „FOR STARTERS... I AM PREPARED TO TELL YOU FIVE OF MY BEST SPAGHETTI FACTS!“

Sans groaned theatrically. „bro, please-“

„FACT ONE: SPAGHETTI ORIGINATED FROM HUMANS. BUT IF YOU COOK IT ENOUGH, IT BECOMES A BONE-AFIED MONSTER DELICACY!“

Sans tried to stay something, but he didn't even get the chance to speak.

„FACT TWO: IF YOU TWIRL SPAGHETTI TOO FAST, IT BECOMES AN UNCLEARED WEAPON.“

„okay...“

„FACT THREE: I ONCE SAW A NOODLE TWITCH. I THINK IT WAS SENTIENT.“

Sans snorted into his tea.

„FACT FOUR: I INVENTED A NEW RECIPE. IT'S CALLED SPAGHETTI A LA TEA. IT'S LIKE SPAGHETTI, BUT BOILED IN GREEN TEA INSTEAD OF WATER.“

„...that sounds illegal.“

„AND FACT FIVE.“ Papyrus said, leaning forward, his voice lowering. „NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, I'M HERE FOR YOU. EVEN IF YOU FEEL LIKE NOTHING IS RIGHT.“

Sans froze. For a second, he couldn't speak. The warmth of the room, the gentle scent of cinnamon, the crack of the radiator in the corner, it all wrapped around him like a blanket just a little to tight.

„you're a good bonehead, paps.“ He muttered.

„I KNOW!!“ Papyrus said cheerfully. Then softer. „BUT YOU DON'T SAY IT ENOUGH.“

There was a pause. Sans finally brought the mug to his mouth and took a sip.

„it's good tea.“

„WOWIE, THANK YOU! IT'S THE LEFTOVER WATER FROM THE SPAGHETTI!“ Papyrus said proudly, as if he was saving the underground with his little trick.

Sans almost spit it out, but gulped it down by sheer force. „...needs more sugar..“ He said.

„I DIDN'T KNOW YOU LIKED IT SWEET??“

„nah.“ Sans said, offering the tiniest smile. „i just wanted something to whine about.“

Papyrus laughed, a big, warm, booming sound that made the air in the room feel lighter.

For a while, they just sat there in silence. Not the bad kind. The kind that stretched between people who trusted eachother, like a bridge. The tea cooled. The snowfall outside thickened. And even thoUGH Sans still felt the weight of time pressing against his ribs, he leaned back, closed his eyes and let the warmth soak in.

It wasn't enough to fix everything.

But it helped.

Chapter Text

Snowfall had long since settled across the forest's upper layers, blanketing the path to the Ruins in a powdery hush. Not that it mattered, no weather ever really changed in this place. Everything just lingered. Like the dust on the cracked stones. Like old jokes. Like memories Sans couldn't quite scrub out of the back of his skull.

He stood where the stone met wood, the heavy double doors guarding the Ruins. Always closed. Always silent, except for her.

Sans didn't know her name, and she didn't know his.

He leaned his shoulders into the frame, a lazy half-smile on his face and a bottle of ketchup in his hand. His bones creaked a little more than usual today, but he ignored it. His foot tapped slowly against the snow-dusted floor.

Then, like a ritual he'd done a hundred times before: Knock knock.

The silence that followed was thick but short-lived.

„....Who's there?“

He grinned, barely supressing the chuckle in his voice. „olive.“

„Olive who?“

„olive you and your terrible sense of humor.“

A quiet gasp, then of laugher, warm, full, familiar. She always laughed at the worst ones. Maybe especially the worst ones.

The laughter that came from the other side was almost musical. „Ohh, that was awful! But adorable. I shall allow it.“

„geez.. rough croud.“ Sans muttered, almost mockingly. „and here i was hopin' to make a good impression.“

„Your jokes are stupid.“ She chuckled. „But they almways cheer me up.“

They always started that way. A bad joke, a warm chuckle. Two strangers seperated by time, stone and names. They never introduced themselves. That was the part of it. He didn't want to know, not yet.

„You haven't knocked in a few days.“ She started. „I was starting to think you gave up on me.“

„what, and miss your exquisite taste in wordplay? never.“ Sans said, taking a sip of his ketchup.

„Pity. I almost had piece and quiet again.“ She teased.

He smirked and settled more comfortably against the door. They always talked like this. She never asked his name. He never asked hers. They were just.. two voices at the edge of something bigger.

„You know, I am glad that Frisk is so kind. Sometimes I wish they stayed with me.“ She said, softer than before. She was leaning against the door on the other side, sitting on the cold floor.

Sans stayed quiet for a second, barely a second. He felt dread wash over him. Sure, the human was kind, but they weren't the last time.

„they're gentle with my brother. even let him win a few puzzles.“ He spoke finally, reluctance in his voice.

„Oh, the tall one you mentioned?“ She asked since Sans spoke about his brother with her quite often. She was glad he had someone to lean on.

„yeah. he's been bouncing off the walls. thinks the human is the greatest thing since pre-sliced spaghetti.“

She laughed again, warm and light. „You're good with them. I can tell.“

Sans hesitated. „..i try.“

She sighed softly, sensing that something was wrong. „You're not alone out there.“

Sans looked at the heavy doors.

She didn't know his name. Didn't know what he knew. What only he knew. But she meant it. That mattered.

There was silence for a few seconds.

„Promise me something.“

Sans looked at the doors.

„what's that?“

She took a deep breath. „I know that I already told you this, but.. If the human stumbles, help them. They're only a child at the end. I... I tried to keep them safe here, but I knew they'd want to leave.“

Sans thought of that first look the kid gave him. Wide-eyed, tired, but gentle. And too knowing.

„i'll do what i can.“ He said.

„I know.“ She said. „Even so, I believe in them.“

He forced some words back. „yeah.“ He muttered, mostly to himself. „me too. even when i shouldn't.“

She heard that and turned towards the door, even though she still wouldn't be able to see him. „Hm?“

„ah, nothin'. just thinking out loud.“ He cleared his throat. He didn't say anthing after that.

„Still, thank you, stranger.“ She spoke, soundning genuinely happy for once. „You have a good soul.“

Sans chuckled and rolled his eyes. „well, don't go telling anyone. got a reputation to uphold.“

„Your secret is safe with me.“ She teased a little.

Another small silence.

„You said that Frisk was kind.“ She spoke, her voice softening. „They made it through, right? I wouldn't want them to be hurt after all.“

Sans nodded, then realized she couldn't see it. „yeah. they're... doing good. haven't hurt a single monster.. unlike the last time.“ He said the last part so quietly, even he bearly heard it.

„That's wonderful.“ She said. And then, with a quiet breath. „I hoped.. If they ever left the ruins, that they would be kind enough to choose mercy.“

Sand didn't answer right away. His fingers curled a little on his lap as he was sitting on the snow-covered path, leaning his back against the doors.

„they are. this time.“

He regretted the last two words the second they left his mouth.

But she didn't question it. She just hummed gently. „Sometimes kindness surprises us. Sometimes.. even after everything, it finds a way.“

Sans smiled. A real one. Small, but real. „sounds like somethin' outta fortune cookie.“

Toriel chuckled softly behind the heavy, closed doors.

It was rare, Sans thought, to feel that  kind of comfort with someone he hadn't seen. Someone he didn't know the name of. And yet, this voice, this stranger beyond a door, had become the one constant that made this never-ending story slightly better.

„i'll protect 'em“ He spoke after a long pause. „if that's what you want. guess i'll do my best to keem them safe.“

„Thank you.“ She said, quiet and heartfelt. „Truly.“

And in that stillness, just for a moment, neither of them said anything. There was no need.

Just two souls on opposite sides of a wall, who somehow managed to meet in the middle.

The snow crunched quietly beneath Sans' slippers as he made his way back along the long, winding path home. The Ruins were behind him now, sealed up tight like a memory he couldn't quite shake. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and his breath fogged in the cold morning air, the sun just beginning to glow low over the distant mountaintops.

He didn't walk fast. He never did. But today, his steps dragged just a little more.

It had been a good talk. Maybe too good. And it left that strange heavy-warm ache in his chest. Like someone had handed him a freskly baked pie and told him it wasn't for him. Or that it wouldn't last.

As he rounded the bend near the Snowdin checkpoint, a much taller, scarf-fluttering figure came into view. Papyrus stood high on a packed snowbank like some bizzare, bony lighthouse. His silhuette stretched proudly against the sky, limbs moving with exaggerated purpose as he worked.

It was like a scene out of one of those cartoons Papyrus watched.

He shuffled forward, and as he got closer, the comical contrast between him and his brother became more and more obvious. Papyrus was towering, taller than Sans by what felt like a full skeleton's lenght. The tip of Sans' skull somehow reached Papyrus' hip bones, and with him stadning on snow, the difference was even more dramatic.

„wowie, bro.“ Sans said, tilting his head up so far he nearly lost his balance. „what's the weather like up there?“
Papyrus spun dramatically, pointing a gloved finger at the sky. „SANS!!! BEHOLD! I AM CONSTRUCTING A BRAND NEW PUZZLE!! THIS ONE FEATURES A DYNAMIC SNOWBALL ROLLING AND AN OBSTACLE COURSE OF MY VERY OWN DESIGN!!“

„gotta say, it's impressive.. i think.“ Sans said, craning his neck again. „from down here, it looks like a mointain, paps.“

„THAT'S BECAUSE I'M ALWAYS AT NEW HEIGHTS OF BRILLIANCE!!“

„heh, well, i'd offer to lend a hand.“ Sans added. „but i'd need a ladder, a rope, and possibly a grappling hook just to reach your scarf.“

Papyrus looked down at him, way down, and grinned. „OR I COULD JUST PICK YOU UP!“

„i'd rather not be airmailed.“

„TOO LATE!!!!“ With almost theatrical flair, Papyrus crouched and scooped Sans up under his arms like a confused toddler.

„whoa- hey!“ Sans spoke up, his stubby legs kicking. „put me down, paps! gravity and i have an understanding.“

Papyrus laughed, twirling once before setting Sans gently on an even bigger pile of snow, but he was still shorter than Papyrus.

„thanks.“ He said flatly. „always dreamed of life at avarage height.“

„ANYTIME, SHORTBONE!“

„wow. name calling? someone's been hanging out with undyne again.“

Papyrus stuck his tongue out playfully, then returned to his work. The puzzle before him was a strange mix of sliding ice tiles, random spaghetti traps, and an omnious meatball perched too perfectly in the centar.

„what's the deal with the meatball?“ Sans asked, still standing on the larger pile of snow like a gnome.

„IT IS THE LURE!“ Papyrus announced. „THE HUMAN WILL BE DRAWN TO ITS SAVORY MAJESTY, ONLY TO SLIP THROUGH THE HIDDEN SLIDE AND BE SPAGHETTI-AMBUSHED FROM ABOVE!“

Sans blinked. „....a spaghetti ambush?“

„YES.“

„that's... bold.“

„GENIUS.“

„what if they just don't like spaghetti?“

Papyrus gasped like he'd been mortally wounded. „SANS! DO NOT SAY SUCH A THING!!“

Sans grinned up at him. „just sayin'. not everyone's got your.. tall taste in food.“

„OH HAR HAR!!“

„it's not easy bein' short, you know.“ Sans said, still standing on the larger pile of snow. He's been standing for a while, that is, two minutes, and he was exhausted by the workout. „i always gotta look up at everyone, including the menu.“

„YOU COULD ALWAYS WEAR PLATFORM SHOES.“

„and what? be two inches taller?“

Papyrus groaned and covered his face with his gloved hands.

They bantered like that for a while, the puzzle half-forgotten in the snow as Papyrus pulled Sans off the pile of snow to demonstrate the meatball trajectory, and Sans countered with lazy, overly dramaric gasps every time he slipped slightly on the ice tiles.

At one point, Papyrus gestured proudly to the finished contraption, arms extended like a magician revealing his final trick.

Sans stood beside him, the top of his head barely brushing Papyrus' elbow.

„you sure you don't wanna install some stairs next time?“ Sans muttered. „for us vertically challanged folks?“

Papyrus grinned down at him. „I COULD BUILD YOU A MINIATURE VERSION!! WOWIE, SANS, YOU ARE SO SMART!!“

„yup, i'm the smart one, and you're the cool one.“ Sans smile faintly.

Papyrus blinked. „I-I AM?“

„you bet. i mean, look at me.“ Sans gestured to himself with a lazy wave. „no puzzle, no plans. just ketchup and bad attitude.“

„YOU'RE ALSO SHORT.“ Papyrus added as if it needed to be mentioned again. Then his voice softened. „BUTTTT, I LIKE YOUR ATTITUDE!!“

Sans looked away. „thanks, bro.“

Height difference or not, right now, everything felt a little more even.

Snowdin was unusally quiet for that morning.

A gentle snowfall had begun, the kind that drifted slowly and softly enough to look like confetti tossed by the clouds. Sans walked with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. Beside him, Papyrus strode like the path was a runway, scarf billowing behind him, feet hitting the snow with full force, leaving deep, enthusiastic prints next to Sans' shallow drag marks.

They walked side by side, though the contrast in height made them seem almost like a mismatched pair in a cartoon sketch.

„you ever think.“ Sans muttered, watching the snow collect on his brother's scarf. „that if you get any taller, they'd have to reclassify you as a walking flagpole?“

Papyrus didn't miss a beat. „NONSENSE, BROTHER! I'D BE CLASSIFIED AS A NATIONAL TREASURE!“

„hm, more like a national noodle.“

They passed the long wooden signboard, its planks nearly covered in frost. Footsteps crunched ahead and behind them as early as early morning traffic began to filter through the village. A few monsters shuffled past, a Snowdrake was harrasing some monsters with his jokes again. No one spoke too much. The stillness was nice.

Sans watched as Papyrus waved at a group of monsters with boundless energy, his long arms swinging like helicopter blades. They barely waved back.

„they don't get your enthusiasm, bro.“ Sans commented.

„THEY DON'T HAVE MY WORK ETHIC EITHER!!“ Papyrus beamed. „WHICH IS WHY I AM IN CHARGE OF PATROLLING!“
„uh huh, and i'm in charge of making sure the ketchup bottle in the fridge doesn't feel lonely.“

Papyrus didn't even flinch. „EXCELLENT! I ASSIGNED THAT TO YOU ON PURPOSE!“

Snow continued to fall, dusting Papyrus' shoulders and catching in Sans' hood. The taller skeleton hummed to himself, a merry tune that had no rhythm and too many thrimphant notes.

„snow's getting thicker.“ Sans said, brushing a lazy hand across a bench, dusted in white. „it's a nice time to nap in a snowbank, huh?“

„ONLY IF YOU WANT TO BE A SKELEPOPSICLE.“

„what, you worried i'll freeze my funny bones?“

„YOU'D FREEZE ALL YOUR BONES, SANS!“

They walked in silence for a while. Ahead, a group of children were attempting to build a snowdog, though it looked more like a snow potato with legs. Sans smirked at the sight, but didn't interrupt.

Near the Librarby, a few familiar faces nodded at them in passing. No words. Just gestures and polite familiarity. Sans had seen it more times than he'd liked.

He sighed, slippers leaving faint trails behind him. „funny how quiet it gets sometimes.“

„IT'S NICE!!“ Papyrus replied, enjoying the atmosphere.

They reached their house. Crooked windows glowing dimly, some curling from the chimney in the shape of question marks. The front yard still had a half-finished puzzle that Papyrus was trying to perfect. It had been already buried in snow.

They reached the porch, and before they entered, Papyrus spoke, pulling off his scarf. „SANS?“

„yeah?“

„THANK YOU FOR WALKING HOME WITH ME.“ Papyrus said before they could even enter the house.

Sans gave a small nod. „couldn't let you wander off.“

Papyrus grinned.

When they finally entered the house, it was chaotic. Sans stood just inside the door, taking it all in. Smoke coming from the kitchen doorway like it was trying to ecape, bootprints made of tomato sauce streaked across the floor, and what he really hoped was mashed banana smeared on the doorknob.

„wow.“ He muttered, shutting the door behind them. „either someone hosted a food fight with gravity turned off, or a recipe went to war.“

„IT SMELLS LIKE VICTORY!!“ Papyrus announced, sniffing dramatically. „AND PERHAPS A LITTLE LIKE... GARLIC..?.... THIS MUST BE UNDYNE!“

From the kitchen were heard many sounds. 'CLANG, BOOM, SIZZLE'.

A moment later, Undyne's voice rang out, loud and completely unapologetic. „Don't worry, guys!! I got it under control!“

„define control.“ Sans muttered.

They stepped into the kitchen just in time to see Undyne elbow-deep in some unholy mixture of pasta, molten cheese and what may have once been a casserole dish. She was wearing an apron that read 'KISS THE CHEF (IF YOU DARE)' and had flour in her hair, a scorch mark on her cheek, and the brightest grin in the Underground.

„'Bout time you guys got here!“ She yelled. „You're late for lunch!“

„you say that like it's still in one piece.“ Sans added, poking the pan suspiciously. It jiggled.

„IT'S A WORK IN PROGRESS!“ Papyrus said proudly. „AND THE GREAT PAPYRUS SHALL ASSIST!“

„Great!“ Undyne cheered. „You get to handle the exploding potatoes!!“

„AH, MY SPECIALTY!“

Sans watched as they fell into the rhythm of their own chaotic cooking choreography. Papyrus whirled between drawers and cupboards like a lanky tornado, spilling flour and optimism everywhere. Undyne stabbed things with knives like she was testing if they were still alive. Ocasionally, something sizzled omniously, or the microwave beeped a tune of defeat.

Sans just pulled out a kitchen chair, the only one that wasn't wobbly, and sunk into it. His eye sockets tracked the motion, but he didn't move to join them.

Not yet.

The house smelled like burnt cheese and old friendship. Familiar. Cozy. And just a little too loud.

Weird that the human hasn't died yet and reseted the time.

Undyne was grinning again,flipping a semi-melted lasagna with a spatula that had clearly seen war. „Alphys would be SO into this.“ She said, not turning around. „She'd be taking notes and everything. Probably trying to figure out how to optimize the 'burn' without losing the crunch.“

„WE SHOULD INVITE HER NEXT TIME!!“ Papyrus said, voice muffled as he wrestled with a bag of suspiciously green rice. „WE CAN MAKE A DOUBLE BATCH OF WHATEVER THIS IS!“

„That's an amazing idea, Papyrus!“ Undyne yelled like he wasn't exactly a foot away from her.

„yeah, the only difference is that we didn't even invite you, you invited yourself.“ Sans commented.

Undyne rolled her eyes and snorted, ignoring his comment. „She's been real into watching the kid's progress. All that data. Says they're real nice.“

There was a beat.

Papyrus hummed a bright, cheerful tune as he layered something into a pan.

Sans didn't respond.

Undyne noticed. She glanced back at him, half a second too long.

„Not buying it, huh?“ She asked.

Sans stared at them. „i'm just.. letting actions speak louder than words. and.. i'm trying to prepare my stomach for this flavorless spaghetti.“

„I AM RIGHT HERE, BROTHER!“ Papyrus said, utterly offended.

„right, my bad. the spaghetti is full of flavors, like pain and sorrow.“

Undyne barked a laugh, but it didn't chase the quiet tension from the air. She turned to the stove. „I mean it, though. Alphys really thinks they're trying. They didn't even hurt anyone.“

„not like the last time.“ He muttered that to himself.

„BUT WE'LL BE CAREFUL, UNDYNE!“ Papyrus added helpfully, stepping between the cupboard and the fish monster making.. food. „THAT IS WHY WE STICK TOGETHER. IF THE HUMAN HAS CHANGED, THEY WILL HAVE FRIENDS TO GUIDE THEM. AND IF THEY HAVE NOT.. WELL!!“

He flexed dramatically, pointing a spatula toward the ceiling.

„THEN THEY'LL FACE THE FULL MIGHT OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS, CHEF AND WARRIOR!!“

Undyne saluted him with a ladle, while Sans just offered a small smile.

The rest of lunch preperation was a symphony of silliness. Pasta flung, spices misused, and at least one instance of Undyne trying to turn on the stove with a match and a blow dryer. Sans remained quiet, but his gaze softened every time Papyrus declared something ridiculous, or Undyne clackled at her own disasters.

Sans just hoped the human would keep their promise.

By the time they actually sat down to eat on the mismached chairs at a lopsided table, the 'food' was an abstract interpretation of nourishmentt. One dish was crispy to the point of fossilization. Another jiggled every time the table moved or if someone breathed too loud. The soda was purple and bubbling, with suspicious sparks.

Still, they dug in. Or at least they tried to.

Halfway through a chewy bite of something that may have once been bread, Papyrus said loudly. „YOU KNOW, THIS REMINDS ME OF OUR OLD FAMILY RECIPE!!“

„you mean the one you found written in ketchup on a napkin?“ Sans asked. He wrote down the recipe Grillby suggested him a couple days before, hoping that it would be edible. But Papyrus and Undyne still made the dish feel physial pain.

„EXACTLY. ALTHOUGH I DID ADD SOME MORE STUFF TO MAKE IT EVEN BETTER!“

They all laughed, even Sans, even just a little. His head bowed, shoulders shaking in silent chuckles. It faded quickly, but it was there.

Undyne reached for her soda. „So, what do you guys think? Lunch success?“

„DEFENITELY A WIN!“ Papyrus beamed.

„eh.“ Sans said, finally leaning back. „i give it.. six outta ten. but for company? solid ten.“

Papyrus shed a tear of happiness. „OF COURSE. YOU ARE BLESSED WITH MY PRESENCE..!!“

Undyne snorted soda out of her nose. „Yeah! Blessed!!“

After a while, the kitchen was clean.

Well, clean enough.

Papyrus had scrubbed the counter with such passion, he somehow chipped it. Undyne had attempted to mop the floor but accidentally soaked half the living room carpet. And Sans, after half-heartedly wiping a single plate, had vanished for ten minutes and returned just in time to declare the place 'immaculately acceptabe.'

Now, the three of them sat around the small table, hunched over mismached mugs filled with fragrent tea. Papyrus had brought out the 'good' teacups, which were mostly Halloween-themed mugs with chips around the rim.

A calm feeling hung over the living room, steam curling lazily into the air from the mugs. Outside, the snow had thickened against the windows, diffusing the light like the whole world was holding its breath.

Papyrus, ever oblivious to tension, sipped loudly and kicked his legs under the table.

„MMGH!! SANS, THIS IS VERY GOOD TEA! WHAT FLAVOR IS THIS??“

Sans blinked slowly, slouched deep in his chair. „dunno. grabbed it from the back of the cupboard. couldn't even read the name.“

Undyne spat out a sip mid-laugh, coughing. „Wait, you brewed some old ass tea?“

„yeah.“ Sans replied, not smiling. „thought it might fit the vibe.“

Undyne rolled her eyes. „Whatever, it tastes fine.“ She slumped forward, letting the warmth of the mug settle into her fingers. „Honestly, I needed this. After all the flour explosions and garlic fire.. I think my scales smell like burnt spices.“

Papyrus perked up. „YOU SMELL LOVELY! LIKE... LIKE MY KITCHEN EVERY DAY!“

She laughed again and clicked her cup against his. „Thanks Paps.. I guess?“

Sans was quiet, fingers loosely curled around his mug, untouched. He stared into it like it might offer him answers.

Papyrus didn't seem to notice that small detail. „I CAN'T WAIT TO INVITE FRISK OVER SOMEDAY! I THINK THEY WOULD LOVE TEA PARTIES!! WE COULD EVEN MAKE SNACKS!“

„Yeah!“ Undyne leaned in. „They're a good kid. I didn't like them at first, and they were a little weird. But they're strong. You should've seen them sparring with me the other day, kept dodging everything. I gotta respect them! Although my house is burned down.“

Sans blinked. His grip on the mug suddenly tigntened.

„so strong they can dodge fate.“ He muttered.

Neither of them heard him.

Papyrus slurped is tea and nodded enthusiastically. „I THINK THEY'RE VERY NICE!! MAYBE THE NICEST HUMAN I'VE EVER MET!“

„the only human you've ever met.“ Sans said.

Papyrus ignored that. „AND I THINK THEY'RE TRYING REALLY HARD TO BE FRIENDS WITH EVERYONE. EVEN WHEN SOME OF US WERE.. UMM.. LESS FRIENDLY AT FIRST..!!“

Unydne snorted. „You mean me?“

„YES!!“

The two burst into laugher again, easy, unburdened. They meant it. They genuinely believed in this version of the kid.

Sans, however, still hadn't sipped his tea.

He kept his head low, eye sockets half-lidded. His gaze on nothing. The light hearted conversation settled heavily in his ribs. He wasn't angry at them, not exactly. Just tired. Frustarted. Worried. They didn't know about the resets after all. How could they know.

„you guys ever stop to think.“ He finally spoke up, voice low. „that maybe things aren't aways what they look like?“

Undyne raised an eyebrow. „What do you mean?“

„like..“ He hesitated. „what if someone's just real good at pretending to be kind? so good that even you believe 'em. even they believe it.“

Papyrus frowned. „I DON'T THINK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT THE TEA ANYMORE. I DID AT FIRST...“

Undyne squinted. „You talking about the human?“

Sans didn't answer. He finally took a sip of the tea, lukewarm now, a little bitter, but that's how he liked it.

„i'm just saying.“ He said, voice softer now. „maybe we need to be careful about who we trust.“

Papyrus looked hurt for a fraction of a second. „BUT... THEY HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING BAD.“

„yet.“ Sans murmured.

Undyne leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing slightly. „You've got a gut feeling or something?“

„...maybe.“

The room fell quiet. Outside, the snow fell thick and fast, muffling the world.

Papyrus stirred his tea quietly, unusually quietly. „I KNOW YOU WORRY. YOU ALWAYS DO, BUT.. I THINK THIS TIME, IT'S OKAY TO BELIEVE IN SOMEONE.“

Sans looked at him, then away. „i dunno, i'd want to.“

„THEN START BY BELIEVING IN ME.“ Papyrus said, voice gentler now, the usual volume tempered into something more tender. „AND THEN YOU CAN TRY BELIEVING IN THEM!!“

Undyne sighed and stretched. „Well, if the kid ends up being evil, I'll just beat them up!“

Papyrus giggled. Sans offered a half-smile, one corner of his mouth tugging upward, but it didn't last.

He finsihed his tea slowly, eyes downcast. Papyrus leaned over, bumping their bony shoulders together lightly, even though he had to really lean down. Then, he gave him a hopeful grin.

„SANS, WE'LL BE OKAY. EVEN IF THINGS GET HARD. WE ALWAYS ARE!!“

Undyne looked at them from the corner of her eyes, disguisted by the brotherly love. She mimicked throwing up.

Papyrus scolded her and they got into a stupid fight. All while Sans was thinking about Papyrus' words.

„yeah.“ He said quietly. „we'll be okay.“

Chapter Text

The morning sun barely filtered through the heavy snowclouds outside casting a cold silver light through the curtains of their home. It wasn't late, but in Snowdin, the concept of time was totally ignored.

Papyrus, already bright-eyed and energetic, was halfway through dragging his oddly tall vacuum across the living room floor, humming some sort of marching tune like always. His scarf flopped dramatically with every movement, even though there was no wind indoors. The vacuum wheezed in protest as it hit a half-bulit bone sculpture Papyrus insisted was 'essential home decor'.

Sans had always insisted that he didn't vacuume for a good reason, it was too tall. Even though the length could be changed, but he rigged it to stay just perfectly at Papyrus' reach.

„YOU KNOW, SANS.“ Papyrus called, pausing to strike a heroic cleaning pose. „A TRUE MASTER OF CLEANLINESS BEGINS THEIR DAY WITH DETERMINATION AND A BUCKET!!“

From the couch, where a lump of bones and a jacket lay slouched, Sans creaked one eye open.

„i thought that was a slogan for a mop company the humans have.“ He murmured, voice tired and sleepy. „or a cult.“ He added. One slipper was nowhere to be found, and the other one was dangling off his foot.

Papyrus rolled his eyes and gave an offended gasp. „IT'S A MOTTO OF HONOR AND DISCIPLINE!! I THOUGHT OF IT MYSELF, THAT YOU VERY MUCH!!“

„ehh, close enough to sound like it came from a cult.“

Papyrus turned off the vacuum with a dramatic click.“YOU COULD BE HELPING, YOU KNOW. INSTEAD OF-„ He gestured with both hands. „-WHATEVER THIS IS!! IS THIS YOUR BONELY SLUG MODE!?“

„hey.“ Sans muttered, curling deeper into the cushions. „it's tactical napping, you know. restores 100HP or whatever. also helps me... dream up some bone-chilling puns.“

„OH YOU WISH YOU HAD 100HP, YOU BARELY HAVE ONE!!“ Papyrus rolled his eye sockets. „WELL BESIDES THAT, I HOPE YOUR DREAMS INCLUDE VACUUMING THE CEILING BECAUSE I CAN'T REACH IT AND THE COBWEBS ARE MOCKING ME SILLY!!!“

„if you can't reach it, what makes you think i could? besides, cobwebs are the least of your worries bro. that leftover spaghetti in the sink might be gaining sentience.“

That earned him a dramatic sigh and a thump of the vacuum against the wall as Papyrus stomped off towards the kitchen. „LAZY, LAZY, LAZY!!!........ OH BUT MAYBE HE'S JUST TIRED.... HE DID WORK FOR A FULL HOUR TODAY...!!“ Papyrus muttered to himself, even though Sans could obviously hear it.

He stayed behind, letting the soft hiss of silence settle back over the room. The couch sagged comfortabely around him, warmth pulling at the edges of his thoughts. He let his sockets slip closed, not intending to truly sleep, just resting his skull.

But it pulled him in anyway.

The dream began with the sound of wind. But not the kind that danced through Snowdin's trees or rattled windows in a storm. This wind was wrong, thin and sharp, like it scraped through the world, stripping it bare.

Then. Laugher.

Sans blinked.

He was standing on the path to Snowdin Town, the trees blackened, broken and ugly. The sky overhead was crimson red, bleeding into grey. Sans' pink slippers were switched with black ones instead. The air was dry, almost ash-like.

There up ahead, stood Papyrus.

Back straight, scarf fluttering in the bitter wind, the taller skeleton raised a hand in greeting. And there, Sans noticed the human.

He wanted to tell Papyrus to get back, Frisk had a knife. But he couldn't speak. He could barely breathe.

„NYEH HEH HEH!! HUMAN! I KNOW YOU'RE THERE!! I-I WONT LET YOU PASS!!!“

Sans tried to call out, but he felt around his face, and his mouth was gone. He panicked as he saw Frisk getting closer and closer towards Papyrus.

He wanted to warn him.

Don't do this.

But Papyrus just stood there, ever the optimist, the fool, the hero. The hero that was going to get himself killed.

„I BELIEVE IN YOU!“ Papyrus shouted into nothingness. „NO MATTER WHAT YOU'VE DONE, YOU CAN STILL BE BETTER!!“

The moment dragged out like a stretched silence, and Sans couldn't do anything.

Then.

A flash.

A sound like a blade spilling through bone.

Sans wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He couldn't even move.

It was too late anyway.

Papyrus stood there for half a breath longer, and then turned into dust and vainshed. The scarf drifted down like a falling flag, catching the wind.

Dust scattered on the path like snowfall.

The world snapped.

Now, sans was in the Judgement Hall. Just like he was when he was a teen, Asgore next to him.

But this time, he was alone, or was he.

The sound of shoes, or maybe the determined footsteps, echoed on the golden tiles.

Frisk.

Standing calmly, hands at their sides. Expression unredable, like always.

Sans took a shaky breath.

„you killed him.“ He said, finally able to speak. But still, he felt suffocating.

Frisk didn't move. Their face betrayed nothing. But their shadow stretched longer than it should have, creeping toward him like a stain.

„you killed everyone.“

Still, no answer.

Then came a voice. Not Frisk's. But hers.

„You let me.“

Her words echoed inside his skull. Who was she? What was going on?

He stepped back, suddenly aware that his left slipper was soaked in something warm and red.

He looked down.

The floor wasn't golden anymore, it was covered in dust and bones. Papyrus' bones. He could tell. A damaged, red scarf was wrapped around his ankle, like it was clinging to him.

„no“ He whispered. „not this, no.“

The save point shimmered in the distance, mocking.

The voice came again, softer now.

„Your brother was a fool, thinking he could save Frisk from their fate.“

The room blurred.

Dust in the air.

Sans could see blood seeping down his boney legs, but he didn't feel anything. He looked up at who was supposed to be Frisk. The knife was already bloody.

Sans fell to his knees.

Frisk turned, and vanished.

The reset came not with a bang, but with the quiet sound of one more hope dying.

The room was empty, until it wasn't. Frisk wasn't there, but Papyrus was.

„SANS, YOU LET ME.. DIE.“ Papyrus said. He wasn't really there. He was dead. But to Sans, he was the one judging right now.

„i-i didn't mean to. i wanted to warn you.“ Sans could barely speak. He felt the pain of dying, but he couldn't die. It was a dream anyway.

Silence.

„WAKE UP.“ Papyrus' voice suddeny became rushed, like he was worried.

Sans tried to ignore it, was it tricking him again?

„WAKE UP SANS!“ Papyrus stepped closer and shook Sans' shoulders.

Then, he felt it. He was in his house again.

He heard a real voice, not an echo in his dream.

„SANS, PLEASE!! WAKE UP!!“

A jolt. Something, no, someone shook him. Physically shook him. The blinding white of the dream shattered as reality shoved its way in, one panicked voice at a time.

He gasped, sharp and harsh, as if surfacing from icy water. His eyes snapped open and he sat up straight. He was tangled in a balnket, collapsed sideways on the couch, sweat chilling under his jacket.

And there was Papyrus. Alive and well.

His eyes were wide, on his knees next to the couch, his hands still on Sans' shoulders. His scarf had unraveled halfway across the living room, and his normally bright eyes looked... scared.

Really scared.

„SANS!? Oh MY GOD, SANS!!“

Papyrus was breathing fast for someone who didn't have lungs.

„I-I COULDN'T WAKE YOU UP! YOU WERE TREMBLING AND-.. AND MAKING THERE HORRIBLE NOISES!! AND I DIDN'T KNOW IF-„

„hey, paps.“ Sans rasped, voice cracked from sleep and terror. „i'm fine, see?“

He put a shaky hand on Papyrus' wrist. Just to prove he was solid and real. Alive.

„IT'S NOT OKAY!“ Papyrus snapped, louder than he meant to. His bones rattled slightly from the force of his own voice. „I THOUGHT YOU – YOU WERE – YOU WEREN'T.. YOU DIDN'T RESPOND FOR ALMOST A MINUTE!!!!“

Sans tried to smile, but it came out warped and thin. „guess i hit the snooze button a few too many times, huh?“

„THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR JOKES, SANS!!“

The room echoed in the sudden silence that followed. Sans flinched ever so slightly.

Papyrus blinked. His voice softened just a little. „...YOU REALLY SCARED ME.“

Sans looked away.

The light in the room was dull, filtered through the curtains. A clock ticked in the background. Somewhere, the radiator hissed like a distant snake.

„...sorry.“ Sans muttered. „didn't mean to.“

Papyrus sat back on his heels. He looked like he wasn't sure whether to scold him or hug him.

„DO YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT? YOU SAID MY NAME IN YOUR DREAM.“ He asked, quieter now.

Sans hesitated.

He wanted to lie. Say it was a weird dream about giant tacos chasing him down a hallway. He wanted to say he's fine. Anything light or easy. Anything that would stop Papyrus from worrying too much.

But the image was still burned into the back of his skull.

Papyrus, gone. Frisk, standing over his dust.

And Sans.. Too late to do anything.

„not really.“ He said finally. „just one of those bad dreams.“

Papyrus tilted his head. „ABOUT ME?“

„maybe.“

Papyrus was silent for a long moment. Then he stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from his apron.

„I AM MAKING TEA.“ He declared suddenly with determination. „YOU ARE GOING TO SIT AT THE TABLE AND DRINK SOMETHING WARM. AND THEN MAYBE YOU WILL FEEL BETTER.“

Sans didn't argue.

He followed slowly into the kitchen, dragging the blanket with him like a cape of exhaustion.

The house was still in its usual state of organized chaos, piles of bones stacked artfully in the sink, a mysterious part of the decor, and the tall, too tall faucet Papyrus insisted was the perfect place to hide bones. Even though there was more bones on top if it in the sink.

Sans slumped into his non-wobbly chair while Papyrus clattered around the cabinet.

„I FOUND THE CINNAMON-HONEY TEA.“ Papyrus announced. „IT'S A LIMITED EDITION. FROM THAT SHOP THAT ALSO SELLS MYSTERY MARSHMELLOWS AND SCORPION JAM.“

„mm.“ Sans grunted. „five stars on yelp, i bet.“

„I DON'T KNOW WHO YELP IS BUT THEY SEEM TO HAVE GOOD TASTE.“ Papyrus said, almost quietly. He wanted to know about the dream.

He filled the kettle and turned on the stove. „YOU KNOW, YOU CAN TALK TO ME ABOUT THINGS. IF YOU EVER NEED TO. I AM NOT JUST A BONEHEAD.“

Sans glanced up, half-surprised.

Papyrus gave him a proud, gentle smile. „I MAY BE LOUD. AND SOMETIMES OVERLY ENTHUSIASTIC. BUT I AM A VERY GOOD LISTENER. I LEARNED FROM WATCHING SOAP OPERAS.“

That actually pulled a chuckle from Sans.

„heh, thanks bro.“

The kettle whistled. Papyrus poured the tea and handed him a mug with a bright cartoon smiley on it. „DRINK. YOU LOOK LIKE YOU NEED TWELVE HOURS OF SLEEP AND A BUBBLE BATH.“

„not sure i've ever taken a bubble bath in my life.“ Sans muttered, sipping the tea. „but i'll take the twelve hours. maybe even thirteen.“

They sat at the table, wobbly as ever. The silence was nice.

Papyrus reached over, resting a hand lightly on Sans' arm. „YOU'RE REALLY HERE, RIGHT?“

Sans looked at him, slightly startled.

Then he nodded. „yeah. really here.“

Papyrus gave a small nod in return. „GOOD. THEN WE HAVE TIME. TO DO STUFF. TO MAKE MORE PUZZLES. TO COOK THE BEST PASTA. TO YELL AT UNDYNE FOR EATING ALL THE PICKLES.“

Sans smirked. „and maybe.. to fix the sink?“

„NEVER.“

They both smiled. For a moment, the dream felt like it didn't even happen.

Just a dream.

Papyrus was still here.

They drank the tea in silence for a while, the kind that had been earned through years of living together, understanding eachother's rhythm. But tonight, Papyrus could feel something was off. He knew the dream was the probelm.

He didn't like it.

„...WAS IT REALLY THAT BAD?“ Papyrus asked, keeping his tone softer than usual. His booming voice trimmed down to something more careful, more tender. „YOUR DREAM, I MEAN.“

Sand didn't asnwer immediately. He swirled his tea slowly, watching the handle like it held answers.

„..yeah.“ He said finally, voice quiet and hesitant. „guess you could say it that way.“

Papyrus leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. „YOU SAID IT WAS ABOUT ME, RIGHT?“

Sans looked up at him for a split second, then away again. „told you, it's nothing.“

„YOU WERE CRYING.“

Sans flinched.

„I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU LIKE THAT BEFORE.“ Papyrus continued gently. „YOU COULDN'T EVEN WAKE UP IMMEDIATELY.“

A beat passed. Then another.

„.. you died.“ Sans' voice cracked on the last word. „in the dream, i... i couldn't move. couldn't help.“

Papyrus blinked. „OH.“

„then i was in the hall.“ Sans went on, staring at his tea. „the place where i always end up. the kid was there. standin' in front of me. the look on their face... it was like they didn't even recognise me anymore.“

Papyrus' expression fell, concern etched into every line of his face.

Sans huffed through his nose, trying to laugh it off. „wild dream, huh? just a dream anyway. shouldn't let it get to me.“

„BUT IT DID.“ Papyrus said. Not accusing, just honest.

Sans finally looked at him. Really looked. „you were gone, papyrus. in that dream, i lost you. and not 'I WENT OUT FOR SPAGHETTI INGREDIENTS' gone. i mean gone. no reset. no redo. just..“

Sans took a sip of his tea, but it did nothing to wash away the taste of those memories.

Papyrus had gone still, watching him with a narrowed eyes. Then, slowly, his head tilted.

„WAIT..“ He said, his voice careful. „WHAT DID YOU MEAN, WHEN YOU SAID.. 'NO RESET' AND 'NO REDO'?“

Sans froze.

Papyrus blinked. „IS THAT.. A JOKE I DON'T GET?“ He asked, only half-joking.

Sans gave a weak chuckle. „hm. nah, not really a joke.“

„BUT..“ Papyrus leaned more forward again, squinting at his brother. „YOU SAY THINGS LIKE THAT SOMETIMES. RESET, OR.. OR TIMELINE, OR CHECKPOINT.. I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS.. YOU KNOW, YOUR USUAL NONSENSE.“

„sounds like me.“ Sans muttered, realizing he couldn't get out of this situation.

„BUT THIS TIME.“ Papyrus said, voice firmer. „YOU SAID IT LIKE YOU MEANT IT. LIKE IT WAS REAL!“

Sans visibly stiffened.

He cursed himself quietly in his head. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Not those words. His mouth had gotten ahead of him, still tangled in dream logic and leftover fear. He should've known Papyrus would notice.

„heh.“ Sans said weakly, trying to recover. „guess my brain is still loading.“

„WHAT DID YOU MEAN, BROTHER?“ Papyrus asked again, slower this time.

Sans stayed quiet, shoulders curling in a bit more. He reached for his tea, pretending to study the steam, but his hands were shaking.

Papyrus leaned forward again. „YOU'RE NOT GOOD AT LYING TO ME, YOU KNOW.“

Sans exhaled through his nose.

„seriously, paps.“ He started. „just... ahem.. it's not important. don't overthink it.“

Papyrus shook his head. „YOU DON'T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT. NOT WITHOUT MEANING TO.“

Sans didn't meet his gaze. „..i didn't mean to.“

„THEN WAS WAS IT?“

There was a heavy pause. The kind that drew out long and slow, like the second before a snowfall breaks the silence in the woods.

Finally, Sans spoke. „it's complicated.“

„I'VE GOT TIME.“

„you'd forget anyway.“ He muttered.

Papyrus blinked. „FORGET?“

Sans blinked slowly. Damn it.

„you weren't supposed to hear that either.“ He said.

Papyrus furrowed his brows, now thoroughly confused. „SANS, WHY WOULD I FORGET?? I COULDN'T DO THAT FOR SUCH AN IMPORTANT THING!“

Sans shook his head. „didn't mean it that way.“

Papyrus stared at him, now hesitant. „IS THIS ABOUT THE HUMAN?“

That got him. Sans' jaw twitched.

„do you ever get deja vu?“

„YES, WELL, ONCE. WHEN I THOUGHT I LEFT THE SPAGHETTI ON THE STOVE, BUT IT WAS IN THE SHOWER.“

„...i didn't mean it that way, but you get the point.“ Sans sighed.

Silence.

Papyrus leaned back a little. „...I THOUGHT THEY WERE KIND.“

„they are.“ Sans said quietly. „this time.“

The words hung in the air like frost.

Papyrus' expression shifted. His voice softened. „WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?“

Sans rubbed the bridge of his nose, a tired gesture. „i didn't wanna bring this up. i really didn't.“

„WHY NOT?“

„because once you know a little, you'll start asking questions. and i can't answer most of 'em. and i sure as hell can't promise they'll matter tomorrow.“

Papyrus' voice was careful. „DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH.. TIME..? THE COMPUTER.. YOU KNOW.“

Sans gace a slow nod.

„ARE YOU SAYING.. THE HUMAN CAN.. FRISK CAN TURN BACK TIME?“

Another pause.

Sans lowered his hand, looking at his tea again. „i think they can. or.. something like it. when they die, or when they choose to, everything rewinds. but not for me. for you? it's like none of it ever happened.“ He spoke quietly, sighing under all the built up pressure.

Papyrus went very still. He looked down at his own tea, then at his quiet brother.

„AND YOU REMEMBER?“ He asked.

Sans nodded.

Papyrus opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. „..HOW MANY TIMES?“

Sans didn't answer. He didn't really need to.

The way his gaze dropped, the tiredness etched into his frame, not just from the lack of sleep. But it was enough for Papyrus to realize.

„SO IF THEY DIE.. OR.... OR RESET..“

„then this? us talking now? you won't remember. not unless they get to that goddamn star.“

„LIKE... GETTING TO A CERTAIN PLACE?“

„yeah. kind of a... checkpoint, if you will. a save.“

Papyrus was quiet for a long time, almost a minute. New record, huh?

„AND IF THEY DON'T?“

Sans looked at him, something hollow in his eyes. „then it's like none of this ever happened. you'll just go back to not knowing.“

Papyrus looked shaken, his voice thin. „THAT'S.. HORRIBLE.“

Sans gave a small, sad smile. „it's fine.“

They sat like that for a while. The warmth of the kitchen, the hum of the wind outside, none of it felt real anymore. Like it could dissolve any second if someone, somewhere, made the wrong choice.

„you know.“ He said, watching into nothingness. „i didn't want to tell you. not because i didn't trust you.“

Papyrus looked over at him, head tilted. „THEN WHY?“

Sans hesitated. The usual jokes were right there on the tip of his tongue. He could say something about time travel giving him indigestion. Or about how his head wasn't built for deep thought, only for bad puns.

But he didn't.

„cause i was scared, alright?“ Sans muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. God, he wished he didn't tell him anything. He wished he didn't go to sleep and have that nightmare. Now, he only wished he could have helped Papyrus remove that cobweb that was mocking him silly. Papyrus' words.

„not scared that you'd be mad at me or anything. just.. scared you'd stop bein' you.“

Papyrus leaned forward again. He knew this was serious for his brother cause he wasn't saying any puns.

Sans looked away again. „you've always believed in everyone. you smile even when stuff's tough, and you always think tomorrow is gonna be better then today. and i... i didn't want to be the reason you stopped.“

There was a long pause.

Papyrus stared at him, eyes wide. It was rare for Sans to talk like this. Rare for him to speak without joking. Or without that lazy shrug behind his words.

„I MEAN..“ Papyrus began, fidgeting with his scarf. „I DON'T... TOTALLY UNDERSTAND, BUT.. I THINK I GET IT A LITTLE.“

Sans finally looked up, searching his brother's face for a hint of uncertainty. „yeah.. that's better than anything. the only thing that sucks is that you'll probably forget. and i'll be too lazy to tell you.“ Sans sighed loudly, sitting up straight. „i don't think it's normal that i remember all of this. is there something wrong with me?“

Papyrus frowned, standing up abruptly from his seat.

„YOU'RE MY BROTHER!“ He said firmly. „WHATEVER YOU ARE, WHOEVER YOU ARE, I'LL STILL THINK YOU'RE COOL. I'LL STILL WANT TO EAT LUNCH WITH YOU AND TELL YOU ABOUT MY PUZZLES. AND THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS THAT YOU'RE NOT BROKEN!“

Sans stared at him, silent.

„...I DON'T GET THE TIME STUFF. I DON'T GET THE.. RESET THINGY. BUT I GET THAT YOU'RE TIRED. AND I GET THAT YOU'RE WORRIED.“ Papyrus tilted his head, still frowning, but it was almost sad. „SO MAYBE.. JUST LET ME WORRY WITH YOU. EVEN IF I DON'T UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING. EVEN IF I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU.“

Sans blinked slowly, the usual defense mechanisms nowhere to be found. He looked away, shoulder slumped, but something about the way he breathed seemed just a little lighter.

„you're too nice, you know that?“

„I TRY.“

They sat in silence for another beat. Then Sans added, a little softer.

„thanks, paps.“

Sans said it barely above a whisper, his voice hoarse around the weight he hadn't meant to share. He didn't look up. Just kept his gaze on the half-empty mug in his hands, the steam long since vanished.

Papyrus didn't respond right away. He just watched him, expression unusually gentle, his jaw, so often sharp with declarations and determination, was soft now. He was thinking.

Proccesing.

The table creaked faintly around the two of them, and the quiet tick of the clock on the wall started to feel loud.

„..DO YOU REMEMER WHEN.. UHM..“ Papyrus said after a long moment, his voice a little rougher than usual. „WHEN I WAS LITTLE – I MEAN, WHEN I WAS.. SMALLER—“

„you've never been small.“

Papyrus gave a quick snort, the kind that wanted to be a laugh but didn't quite make it.

„FINE, WHEN I WAS YOUNGER, WHEN WE'D SLEEP TOGETHER ON THAT UNCOMFORTABLE BED, AND I OFTEN HAD BAD DREAMS.“

Sans blinked, looking sideways at him.

Papyrus didn't look back. „YOU'D WAKE UP JUST ENOUGH TO MUMBLE SOMETHING STUPID, LIKE.. 'it's just the bone monster, bro. he's got no guts.'“

Sans gave a breath that might've been a laugh, or a sigh. „sounds like me.“

„I DON'T REMEMBER A LOT ABOUT OUR PAST.. BUT I KNEW I REMEMBERED THINKING YOU WERE NEVER SCARED OF BAD DREAMS.“

Sans looked down again.

„...AHEM.. I GUESS I WAS WRONG.“ Papyrus said more quietly.

There was a long pause.

Sans didn't answer, but his shoulders tensed just enough to betray how badly he wanted to.

Papyrus studied him, gaze drifting down to his slouched posture, the way his jacket looked far too big when he curled in on himself like that. Like he was trying to disappear into it.

„YOU'RE.. REALLY SMALL, YOU KNOW THAT?“ Papyrus said after a beat.

Sans gave him a look.

„PHYSICALLY, I MEAN.“

„wow. thanks, bro. that really lifts up my spirits.“

„I AM JUST SAYING.“ Papyrus stood up again abruptly. „YOU LOOKED LIKE A PLUSH TOY LEFT OUT IN THE RAIN, SAD AND WOBBLY.“

Sans blinked. „that's.... oddly specific.“

„I HAVE HAD DREAMS ABOUT THAT.“ Papyrus said with a shrug.

He stood there for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, without a warning, he stepped closer and bent over slightly, hands out like he was about to pick up something precious.

„papyrus, don't even try-“

But he didn't wait. With practised ease, he slid his hands under Sans' arms and hoisted him clean off the chair to hug him. Sans made a surprised sound, somewhere between a groan and a grunt.

He's been picked up by Papyrus enough these days.

„you serious right now?“

„I AM OFFERING PHYSICAL COMFORT.“ Papyrus declared, holding him up like a toddler who had just scarped his knees. „THIS IS THE CORRECT PROTOCOL.“

„i ain't five, paps.“

„YOU'RE ACTING LIKE YOU ARE.“

„am not.“

„ARE TWO.“

„...fair.“

Sans didn't resist though. His arms hung a little awkwardly, but eventually he sighed, head tilting to rest against Papyrus' shoulder.

„you're warm.“ He muttered.

„I AM ALWAYS WARM. IT IS BECAUSE I'M FULL OF LOVE AND COCOA!“

Sans snorted. „you're full of spaghetti.“

Papyrus gave a rare, quiet laugh. It rumbled through his chest where Sans leaned against him.

„I.. DON'T KNOW HOW TO FIX THIS.“ He admitted after a moment, voice low. „WHATEVER THIS THING IS. THESE.. LOOPS OR TIMELINE. OR WHATEVER, I CAN'T STOP IT. AND I WANT TO.“

„nah.“ Sans murmured. „you can't.“

„BUT I CAN STILL BE HERE, RIGHT NOW. IF YOU LET ME.“

Sans shut his eyes.

For a few moments, neither of them moved. Sans was still suspended in the quiet embrace of his brother's arms, head resting on that familiar boney shoulder. The weight of everything, every timeline, every mistake, it was just a little lighter.

Eventually, Papyrus exhaled like he was holding in his breath the entire time. „OKAY.“ He whispered, oddly gentle, and slowly, carefully, set Sans back down on the floor. Like he might vanish if he dropped him too quickly.

Sans gruned a little as his feet touched the carpet. „you're gonna give me height envy, bro.“

„THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE. YOU ALREADY HAVE THAT!“

„..true.“

Papyrus patted his shoulder awkwardly, then looked toward the kitchen. „I AM GOING TO MAKE MORE TEA. YOU STAY RIGHT THERE, AND DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT COLLAPSING INTO A PUDDLE OR ANYTHING!“

„no promises.“

As Papyrus clattered into the kitchen pots and cabinets started thudding like a polite earthquake. Sans wandered to the couch and sat down. He stared at the coffee table, letting the quiet of the house return in the absence of heavy thoughts.

„hey paps, the cobwebs are still up there,“ Sans said, looking up at them. It was almost as if the spider was showing him the middle finger. Damn.

„SHUT UP, SANS!“ A loud, offended voice was heard from the kitchen, Sans just smirked.

A few minutes later, Papyrus came back balancing a tray with two mugs. One was neatly steaming. The other looked slightly overfilled. Papyrus tried to make it perfect, but misjudged the ratio again.

„TEA DELIVERY!“ He announced proudly, as if they weren't drinking tea ten minutes ago.

Sans blinked at it. Woah, he was blinkng a lot today. „you trying to drown me with hospitality?“

Papyrus groaned, plopping onto the couch beside him and settling the mugs on the table. „DRINK. OR SO HELP ME, I'LL GET THE SIPPY CUP!“

Sans gave him a look. „alright, alright.“

They sat for a moment, just sipping.

The taste was warm, a little too sweet and a little to bitter. Strawberries and mushrooms, if he had to guess. Or maybe one of those random blends Alphys gave Papyrus in exchange for terrible comics.

It took Sans a while to speak again.

„..i got an idea.“

Papyrus turned to him, sipping loudly. „DO TELL!“ He was excited because Sans barely had any ideas.

Sans scratched his skull. „so, uh.. this whole memory thing. if what i said earlier was true. if this gets erased, like all the other times, well mostly. then you wouldn't remember any of this.“

„THAT'S... NOT A GOOD IDEA.“

„nah, i mean the idea's what comes next.“

Papyrus waited, slurping.

„tomorrow morning.“ Sans said slowly. „if you still remember this whole convo, this tea, the nightmare. i'm saying.. if the human makes it to the checkpoint before dying.. i want you to say a code word.“

Papyrus leaned in dramatically. „A SECRET CODE WORD???“

„yeah.“

„WHAT KIND OF WORD?“

Sans rubbed the back of his head, eyes flicking away. „...something real stupid. that way, it sticks.“

Papyrus was practically vibrating. „OH, OH, CAN I PICK IT?!“

„you can pick next time.“

„FINE. WHAT'S OUR FIRST SECRET SUPER-SPECIAL CODE????“

Sans looked serious for a second, then deadpanned. „super-amazing farts master.“

Papyrus stared.

Silence.

„.......THAT'S BRILLIANT!!“

„it's unforgettably dumb.“

„EXACTLY!“ Papyrus stood dramatically. „IN THE MORNING, IF I WAKE UP AND REMEMBER TO SAY 'SUPER-AMAZING FARTS MASTER'- THAT MEANS I REMEMBER!!“

„bingo.“

Papyrus held his hand out like he was making an oath. „I WILL GUARD THIS CODE WORD WITH MY LIFE!!“

„don't let the sauce get to your head, bro.“

They both sipped their tea in silence for a moment after that.

Even though it was a bad idea, Sans let himself think that it would last until tomorrow. He had hope in the human not to die.

The next morning crept in gently, slipping between the blinds with golden rays and warming the quiet corners of the house. Snowdin was muffed under another soft blanket of snow, and the familiar hush of the morning made it feel like the Underground was always peaceful.

Sans stirred on the couch. The blanket Papyrus had draped over him during the night had slid halflway on the floor. The tea mug from the last night before sat cold on the coffee table. His sockets cracked slowly. He looked at the time.

7:23AM. Damn it was early.

Still, his first thought was 'i remember.'

His second thought was 'but will he?'

For a long moment, he stayed still, only the ticking of the kitchen clock keeping him company. He didn't want to hope. Not yet. He didn't want to risk the disappointment of seeing Papyrus bounce in like any other morning, oblivious to everything they'd shared last night.

God, he didn't want to hope, but he did. He could only do that. Hope and wonder. His heart was beating quickly with reluctance.

And then – THUMP THUMP THUMP

Heavy footsteps down the stairs. The usual loud entrance. A familiar voice rang out from the stairwell.

„GOOD MORNING, SANS!!“ Papyrus said, sounding like any other day.

Which worried Sans. He sighed and sat up on the couch. Now both of his socks  were missing. Weird. He decided to act as if yestarday didn't happen because Papyrus obviously forgot.

„what's cookin' bro?“ He called back, his voice trying to stay normal. He really had hoped that Papyrus would have rememebered. Life was unfair anyway.

There was a pause. A strange one. Like Papyrus was choosing his next words carefully. Sans didn't look at him, but he could feel the floor trembling from how much Papyrus was vibrating. Sans just laid back down on the couch, when Papyrus spoke.

„SUPER-AMAZING FARTS MASTER!!!!!!!!!!“ Papyrus basically yelled at Sans when he said that.

The couch creaked as Sans shot upright, his bones feeling warm.

He looked at the stairs.

Papyrus stood at the bottom step, beaming like he'd just solved every puzzle in the world. His whole body was shaking and his bones were rattling.

„...you remember..?“ Sans whispered, almost not trusting himself to say it out loud. He looked down at his body, trying to convince himself this wasn't just a dream.

Papyrus nodded rapidly. „OF COURSE I REMEMBER!! HOW COULD I FORGET SOMETHING AS INCREDIBELY STUPID AND GENIUS AS THAT!??!“

Sans stood slowly, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he actually smiled. A real one. Wide, honest, relieved. He almost felt tears in his eyes, but that was too much of a work out. And he only just woke up. „hah...“

Papyrus was already moving across the room in big, confident strides. „I MEAN, I WOKE UP AND I KNEW!!! I REMEMBERED THE TEA, THE NIGHTMARE, THE TALK, THE HUG, AND THE FACT THAT YOU LOOKED LIKE A PLUSH TOY IN RAIN!!“

Sans just kept smiling. He felt so relieved that he was able to tell his brother. He actually felt happy.

He laughed. Really laughed. The sound was scratchy, like he hadn't laughed in ages. Well, he didn't. But it was real.

Papyrus grinned back, and then, in a completly unnecessary flourish, bent down and scooped Sans up under his arms again, lifting him off the ground with ease.

„WOOOOOO!!! THIS IS A CELEBRATION! I REMEMBER A THING FROM A TIMELINE THAT MAY OR MAY NOT STICK AROUND!! TAKE THAT, HUMAN!!“

„you're gonna make me dizzy, paps. i just woke up.“

„WORTH IT!!“

Papyrus finally set Sans back down and gave his shoulder a little pat. „WE BEAT THE SYSTEM!! WELL, SORT OF..?..........  STILL!!!“

Sans nodded slowly, something shimmering behind his tired smile. They hugged gently, but Papyrus was hugging him so tightly his ribs were under pressure. „..just you rememberin' is enough, papyrus.“

They sat together after that, making fresh coffee, clanking mugs and throwing more sugar than necessary into each one. They didn't talk too much about resets or timelines. They didn't have to. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on Sans' chest didn't feel so crushing. Someone else knew. Someone he trusted.

And Papyrus? He just looked proud. Like he's flying next to fluttering spaghetti-colored banners.

At the end, they pinky promised not to tell anyone.

Chapter Text

The light of the MTT Resort buzzed faintly overhead, casting a golden-pink ray across the slick marble tiles. The fountain gurgled behind him, looping endlessly like the timeline he could never escape. Sans leaned against one of the pillars just outside the hotel entrance, hands in pockets.

He knew they were coming.

Footsteps. Quiet. Careful.

They stopped a few feet from him.

„hey, kid.“ He started without looking up. „figured you'd show.“

Silence.

He finally turned towards them and looked at them. Frisk looked the same. Almost closed eyes, soft expression. That same little glimmer that made it hard for him to trust what he remembered.

„thought we could grab a bite to eat.“ He said quietly. „not really hungry, but.. felt like the thing to do.“

He gestured lazily, and the two of them walked in silence. Past the glamor and the sparkle of the resort, through a side door and up a hidden back hallway that led to one of the little-used dining rooms. The place was dim, quiet. A table was already waiting, two seats, a candle half burnt.

Sans sat down. The human did too, across from him.

The menus were untouched.

„you've been kind this time.“ Sans said quietly, folding his arms on the table. „real kind. haven't hurt a single monster. spared even the ones who didn't deserve it.“

He paused.

„...including me.“

The candle flickered, shadows moving on the wall.

„but i gotta ask. why?“

The human looked at him, then down. He just shrugged.

„you don't gotta answer.“ Sans said, though the air around his words was heavier than it sounded. „just... curious, if i must.“

He leaned back a little in his chair, the creak of the wood the only sound in the room for a moment.

„i've seen what you're capable of. what you're really capable of. don't need to tell you that. you remember it too, huh?“

Their eyes met. Something passed between them. A shared silence.

„yeah. figured.“

He looked away.

„that's the weird part. you have the.. power, i assume, to reset the time, or to just respawn after dying. guess that makes you special.“

He tapped the table once with his finger.

„problem is, special isn't always good.“

A moment passed. He exhaled softly.

„you didn't kill papyrus.“ He said, his voice low. „not this time. not even last time, actually. but you did kill other.. 'useless monsters.'“ Sans kept his arms crossed, looking down at the floor. He had different pairs of socks today because the last ones were never found.

„this time is different.“ Sans admitted. „you're different. not pretending. not hesitating. just... good. kind. and i gotta wonder.. why now?“

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, gaze sharp now even though his expression stayed the same.

„why not the first time? or all the other times? what's different this time, kid?“

The human looked up, mouth opening slightly, but no words came out. Maybe they didn't have to. Maybe there weren't any words to be said.

Sans chuckled dryly.

„hm. guess it doesn't matter now, huh?“

He leaned back again, sinking into the chair like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

„i've been watching. waiting. part of me thought you were faking it, like some weird moral victory. but you ain't. you're really trying.“

The silence between them now wasn't awkward, it never really was. But now, it was just tired.

„still, thank you, frisk.“ He said, eventually. „for sparing papyrus and the others. and... for sparing me.“

He didn't mention the conversation with his brother. He wouldn't. Some things had to stay just between them. It was a pinky promise anyway.

His eyes didn't meet theirs right away. He was staring at the fancy tablecloth, gaze distant, like he was seeing something else entirely. Or maybe remembering.

„you know..“ He started, voice low, causal, but his tone was serious. „there's more than one reason you're still here.“

Frisk tilted their head, but didn't say anything. They never did, or rarely. They just watched him. Waiting.

Sans continued, eyes still at the tablecloth. „i mean, sure, maybe you're different this time. maybe you're actually trying. but that ain't the whole story.“

His fingers tapped once on the table, a soft sound in the silence. Then he looked up, and though he way still smiling, it wasn't the kind that was genuine.

„there was someone else. before all this started. way before i ever saw you walking out of the ruins.“

He leaned back, letting his eyes drift to the ceiling, like he was speaking to the memory more than to the person in front of him.

Sans started, his voice quieter now, more distant. „there's this lady. real kind. bit of a shut-in, but she's got the warmest laugh i've ever heard. i talk to her through a door, told dumb knock-knick jokes back and forth for who knows how long. never saw her face or learned her name.“

He smiled slightly. „she laughed at every one of my jokes.“

Silence.

„not many monsters do that with me, not even my brother. that's why i like her.“

Frisk looked down at the table now. Something quiet settling between them. Sans just looked at the human, like he resented them. It would make sense.

„one day, she told me someone was coming. a human. she didn't know when, but she knew it would happen eventually. and she asked me to protect them.“

He went quiet for a long beat.

Then he said it.

„she asked me to protect you.“

The smile faded from his face completely. It didn't twist into anything, not a frown. Just, vanished. Like a tired breath that gave up halfway through.

He looked at them now. Really looked. The sockets in his skull seemed deeper somehow, empty and dark.

„if she hadn't said that.. if she hadn't asked me, begged me.“

He went quiet for a while. He was always too lazy to do anything, even finishing a sentance was a lot.

At last, he leaned forward, voice quiet, almost a whisper.

„i would have killed you.“

No pun. No joke. Just a simple truth that hanged in the air, almost suffocatingly.

„i would have stopped you in front of the ruins. no small talk. no speech. no puns. just one quick attack. clean.“

The human didn't move.

He closed his eyes. Exhaled slowly. He was tired, he wanted to sleep and forget about it all. He wanted the human to disappear, like they were never here.

„but the old lady asked me. and because of her, i didn't. i let you go. even when i knew what it could mean.“

Another pause. Longer this time. It seemed like everyone in the Resort went quiet, only the ticking clock on the wall was getting louder and louder.

„i think about that a lot. wonder if maybe that was the wrong call.“

He cracked an eye open and looked at them. There was no anger in it. Just exhaustion. Sadness maybe.

„but now.. now you're kind. now you spare. now you hesitate. now everybody likes you, huh?“

His voice was rougher. Quieter.

„and i don't know if it's because you mean it.. or because you felt bad.“

The human flinched. Frisk flinched.

Sans closed his eyes.

„either way.“ He continued, sitting back. „she's the reason you're alive. not me. i would have ended it the moment i got the chance.“

A bitter smile flicked back on his face, just barely.

„and heck.. maybe i still will. if you slip.“

He opened one of his eye sockets. His eye was glowing a bright blue color.

He stood slowly, blinking and the light was gone. No jokes. No finger guns. Just a quiet grunt as his bones cracked from sitting too long.

As he turned to leave, he stopped at the edge of the table. Not looking at them, just staring straight ahead.

„you've got a shot here. a real one. don't waste it.“

He walked away then, his footsteps soft like he didn't want to leave tracks. The only thing left was the echo of his voice. Flat and final.

„she believes in you. i'm trying to.“

Silence after that.

...

Frisk just got up to leave, when the waiter came.

„excuse me, you were the one that ordered... uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... Two steaks in the shape of Mettadon's face?“ The waiter asked, looking at the small human while carrying a tray with the food.

„Weirdo alert guys.....“ No one was next to him.

„But whatever....... It's 1000G, no refunds.“ He said, rolling his eyes like he had no motivation in life.

Sans just smiled to himself as he heard the waiter speak. He ordered them on purpose before Frisk even came.

Hotland buzzed under his feet.

Steam hissed from vents beneath rust-colored tiles, heat shimmering off the metal walls in thick, invisible waves. Sans shuffled through the corridor, his hands deep in his pockets.

He passed the conveyor belts and puzzles, the old enemies that no longer activated. Monsters had grown quiet these days, more curious than agressive. The kid had softened the Underground.

He knew it wouldn't last forever.

His phone buzzed. A familiar tone. He sighed and pulled it out.

„yo.“

„Sans!“ Alphys' voice crackled through the speaker. „U-uh sorry..! Did i catch you at a bad time...?“

He squinted at the nearby steam vent. „nah. just taking the old bones for a walk. what's up, doctor?“

Alphys clared her throat nervously. „So- I just wanted to give you a quick update. On the human. I-I mean Frisk!“

His pace slowed, steps more deliberate. „yeah?“

„They're in the Core right now. But... uhh... it's kind of incredible, S-sans! They haven't hurt anyone. Not a single monster.. Even when they had the chance. Even when they were... frustrated..? They just keep... talking. Laughing. Hugging people.“

He leaned against a metal post, gaze lowered. Weird that Alphys didn't see anything wrong in her records. Maybe she was just busy with keeping track of Frisk's progress since they haven't killed anyone. This time.

„it's a nice change of pace.“ He said, voice soft. He straightened his back and started walking again.

Alphys hesitated. „I-I thought maybe you should know. You always seem so... wary of them.“

„maybe, you could say that.“ He said, his voice kind of distant.

A long pause. Static hummed gently in the background.

„You... You don't seem really convinced.“ She said.

„nah. it's not that. just.... hard to shake off old instincts.“

He looked down the corridor where heat shimmered like ghosts. „they've done good. real good. this time.“

Alphys didn't speak for a moment, then said quietly. „This.. time?“

Sans cursed under his breath, the slip of words scraping his nerves. He chuckled dryly. „sorry, nevermind that.“

She didn't question it further. „I just wanted to say... Thanks. I know you keep an eye on things. Even when it doesn't look like it.“

He smiled faintly. „yeah, well, not like i've got a lotta hobbies.“

„A-anyway..“ Alphys continued. „I think they're gonna try for the Barrier soon. Maybe.. Tomorrow..?“

Sans tensed. He knew the human would have to kill Asgore.

He knew this path. He'd felt it once before. Maybe... It would be different this time. Frisk had made a lot of friends. Maybe they'll protect them?

„thanks for the heads up, alphys.“

„No problem. Um- if anything changes, I'll let you know. I'll... I'll be watching too.“

„take care.“

The call ended quickly.

She hung up.

The phone went back into his pocket. Sans stopped and stood at the same place for a long moment, letting the steam wrap around him, thick and blinding.

The Core. The end was close.

His gut twisted. This time had been different. Frisk had been... Kind. They'd made him laugh, even. They'd made him hope for a short while. That was the most dangerous thing of all.

He knew better.

But he also remembered something else. A voice from behind the Ruins' doors. A promise, half-joked but real in his bones.

„Protect them.“

Sans started walking again. The air thickened with heat and anticipation.

Some promises were worth keeping.

The air in Waterfall always did feel a little heavier.

Cool mist curled between the glowing blue grass, pooling at the soles of Sans' pink slippers. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of dripping water echoed like a quiet heartbeat. It was calm. Peaceful. Too peaceful.

He walked through a shortcut down the damp stone path to Undyne's house. Her scrappy little shack in a shape of a fish nestled among the grass and crystals, its rough metal patched with pride and duct tape.

He knocked once with the back of his hand.

A loud voice was heard from the inside. „Hang on! I'm still putting on pants, damnit!“

A crash. A thud. A muffled curse.

Sans chuckled and leaned against the doorframe, waiting. The door eventually creaked open to reveal Undyne in her usual clothes. A tanktop and sweatpants, scales and hair damp from a quick rinse.

„Oh. Hey, Sans! You bonehead!“ She said, brushing her hair back with one of her clawed hands. „Didn't know you were dropping by. Something up?“

Sans smiled softly as she moved to let him inside. „nah. just thought i'd swing by. see how the boss of waterfall's holding up.“

Undyne snorted and closed the door behind him. „Boss of Waterfall, huh? I like the sound of that. Sounds.... Badass!“

Her house was its usual state of half-chaos. Empty instant noddle cups from Alphys were stacked next to dumbbells. A spear was stabbed clean through her microwave. The floor was wet, but only in patches. It smelled vaguely of seaweed and curry.

„you been sparring with the microwave again?“ Sans asked, eyeing the spear that went though it.

„Don't ask.“ Undyne muttered, grabbing a towel to mop up the floor. „I put plastic wrapped food, and i got a little mad.. This is my fifth one already.“

Sans gave a lazy smile. „a little angry huh..“ He muttered to himself. „i can buy you a new one for your birthday, huh?“

Undyne rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. „Nah. It'll just be the sixth one I'd break.“

They both sat down at her table, one leg was replaced with a clothing hanger.

She glanced at him sideways. „You look like shit. Like you haven't slept in a week.“

„who's counting.“

She tossed the towel over her chair. „So. Really, what brings you here.“

Sans shuffled a little, putting his legs on the chair and his knees to his chest. „just.. checking in. you heard from the kid?“

Undyne leaned in her chair, arms crossed. „Not since they passed through Hotland. Alphys says they're already deep in the Core. Probably near the barrier by now.“ She said, picking at her sharp teeth.

„is that so?“ He said flatly, as if it didn't matter. But his hands were deeper in his pockets now, shoulders hunched a little. He just sighed and leaned back.

„They've been real nice.“ Undyne started, leaning forward on the table. „Didn't hurt a soul. Even Papyrus can't stop talking about how they complimented his spaghetti. He's writing a whole thank you letter.“

„i know, that sounds like him anyway.“

Undyne studied him for a second, her expression softening, if it was even possible. „You worried about them?“

Sans paused. The silence stretched long enough for a water droplet to fall from the ceiling and splash into a puddle.

„..maybe.“ He said eventually. „i dunno. it's hard not to be.“ He closed his eyes for a second, as if he was gonna fall asleep.

„I get it, really.“ Undyne said, surprisingly gentle. „They're almost at the end. It's kind of scary, huh? After all this, after all we've done to help them.. it's almost over.“

Sans didn't reply. His gaze drifted to the glowing mushroom outside the window.

„You think it'll really happen?“ She asked, looking straight at him as if she's gonna eat his fragile little soul. „The surface, I mean. All of us getting out of here?“

He finally looked at her again, the usual half-lidded smirk replaced by something else. Something quieter.

„depends.“ He spoke quietly, then stopped.

„On what?“

He didn't answer.

Undyne frowned a little, but didn't push. Instead, she walked over to the stove and returned with two mugs of something vaguely steaming.

„Made tea. Don't ask what kind.“ She said, looking at him with seriousness in her eyes.

Sans accepted the mug. „i don't want you to kill me, so i won't ask.“

Sans took a sip and tried not to grimace at the taste.

„Ugh, Sans!“ She rolled her eyes and sat back down. „I've just been experimenting..“

They sat in silence for a full minute. Undyne tried the tea and she had to admit, it was bad.

„So. You and Papyrus got any surface plans?“

„eh, probably open a hot dog stand. world's always gonna need condiments.“

She listened, then spoke. „Papyrus wants to be a Royal guard up there, too. He keeps asking if the surface had kings. Ot at least, tall chairs.“

They both smiled, but the smile didn't last long on Sans' face.

Undyne glanced up at him again. „Seriously. What's on your mind?“

Sans swirled the tea in his cup. The steam curled up toward his face like something alive.

„just thinking, about time.“ He said, almost reluctant. „sometimes it goes away so fast, and you feel like you're repeating that scene.“

She didn't get it, but she nodded anyway.

„You always were the weird one, Sans.“

„yeah.“ He muttered, looking down into his cup. „i get that a lot.“

Undyne squinted at him over her mug. „You ever think about getting therapy, Sans?“

Sans blinked, slowly. „i thought this was therapy?“

Undyne let out a bark of laughter. „Wow, if that's true, then you're doomed.“

„guess it'll have to do.“

She snorted, sipping the weird tea again with the confidence of a monster who'd long since made peace with her bad decisions. „You know, you joke, but you really should talk to someone. You've been even more.. you??“

„more me? that sounds dangerous.“ He smirked and looked down at his mug.

„It is, you bone ass!“ She rolled her eyes and groaned. „Your energy is at 'existential shrug' all the time now. I half expect you to float away like a balloon.

Sans smiled faintly. „only if you tie a ketchup bottle to my hand. if so, go for it.“

Undyne chuckled, then set her cup down. „Okay, but seriously. What's eating you???“

„besides this tea..?“

„Don't dodge.“

He sighed and leaned back into his chair, his sockets flickering towards the glowing ceiling. „i dunno. guess it's just... every time things go well, i just expect the worst, you know?“

Undyne furrowed her frows. „You mean the kid?“

Sans was quiet for a beat too long.

„I like 'em.“ Undyne went on. „I mean, they're weird, but quiet, and way too polite. But they didn't hurt anybody. That counts for a lot.“

„yeah. it does.“ He swirled the last of the tea in his cup. „this run's been... different.“

Undyne blinked. „Run?“

„uh-„ He coughed into his sleeve. „i mean, uh, run as in journey. yeah. long hike. hahah..“

Undyne raised an eyebrow, but let it slide.

The silence stretched.

Sans scratched behind his skull, sockets drifting down toward the cracked tile of the floor. „soo... how's the whole 'not murdering anyone today' thing going?“ He asked, looking at his empty cup of tea.

Undyne snorted. „I mean, it's better than avarage. I only thought about drop-kicking someone twice today.“

„wow, that's gotta be a new record, huh? want me to get you a sticker?“

She glared at him as if she was going to be the one getting drop-kicked.

She smirked, then looked away, expression darkening. „But seriously... You're not okay, are you?“

Sans gave a long, slow shrug. „define 'okay.' like, existential dread kinda okay? or can't-sleep-cause-i-keep-seeing-my-brother-die kinda okay?“

That hit like a hammer.

Undyne stiffened. „What the hell, Sans.“

He didn't look at her. „sorry. bad joke.“

„No, shut up. That wasn't a joke. What the hell does that mean!?“ She demanded.

He gave her a crooked grin. „probaly means i'm overdue for a nap.“

Undyne stood up so fast her chair scraped against the floor. Her fists were clenched. Her whole body trembling, not with fear, but anger.

„Are you fucking with me right now?“

„a little.“

„Why!?“

Sans hesitated. His smile faltered.

„...cause it's easier than saying i don't know if anything we do actually matters.“

Something cracked.

Undyne's fist had crashed down on the table so hard that the ceramic bowl quite literally jumped and shattered on the wall. It probably did it on purpose.

„Damn it, Sans!“

„nice punch.“ He muttered. „hope that wasn't the one labled 'salad'.“

„Stop joking!“

His grin dropped entirely.

The quiet in the room was a cold thing. The kind that settled in your bones and stayed there.

Undyne stared at him, breathing hard. „Why are you acting like this? What happened to you???“

Sans rubbed the back of his skull. „nothin'. just... sometimes i get stuck thinking. about what happens when the kid falls. when they get back up. how many times they've gotten up.“

She blinked, confused. „What – What are you even talking about?“

He waved it off with a flick of his wrist. „nothing. guess i've just been dreaming too loud again.“

She sat down slowly, eyeing him like he was some weird puzzle she couldn't quite solve. „...you scare me sometimes, you know that?“

Sans gave a tired grin. „same, honestly.“

Then, in a gentler voice, he added. „sorry about your bowl.“

„I hated that bowl anyway.“ Undyne muttered. „Alphys gave it to me. Said it matched my energy. Wheveter the hell that means.“

„means it was structurally strong and full of potential.“

Undyne cracked a small smile despite herself. „You're a real ass sometimes.“

„better than being a half-ass. i go all in.“

She gave a sideways look. „Seriously though. Whatever's going on in your head, don't keep it there. You got people. You got me.“

Sans hesitated, then. „yeah. i know.“

Another long pause.

„...hey undyne?“

„What?“

„if you ever see me getting real weird again, like more than usual, just bonk me with a frying pan or somethin', yeah?“

Undyne nodded solemnly. „With pleasure, asshole.“

The smell of something suspicously burnt curled through the air as Sans leaned lazily against Undyne's chipped kitchen counter.

„i think.“ He said slowly. „whatever that was.. is still alive.“

Undyne glared at the pot, which was bubbling in a way that could only be desctribed as menacing. „It's supposed to be lasagna.“

Sans squinted. „what's it made of?“

„Love. And noodles.“

The pot made a glorp sound, as if in protest.

„ah, yeah. sounds about right.“

Undyne slammed the lid on it and crossed her arms. „It'll be fine... Probably.“

„probably.“ Sans echoed, grinning faintly. „those are good odds. i once told papyrus the probability of survival in a human battle was 'probably'. He got so mad he melted.“

Undyne laughed a little, but it came out jagged, like she was throwing knives.

She didn't say anything for a moment. She just stirred the lasagna (if you could still call it that), then added something from a mystery jar labeled 'spice??' and promptly began coughing.

„you alright?“ Sans asked, raising a brow.

„Fine.“ She wheezed. „I'm just flavoring it with violence.“

„ah. gourmet.“

Undyne leaned on the counter beside him, eyes scanning the dim kitchen. „You think we'll actually make it, Sans? Like, get out of here?“

„don't know.“ He admitted. „depends on the kid.“

„You think they're gonna do it?“

Sans stared ahead. His grin didn't change, but it felt heavier now. „they're nice this time.“

„This time?“ She noticed he said it again.

He didn't reply right away.

Undyne's gaze sharpened. „What do you mean, this time?“

Sans shrugged. „nothing. just a weird feeling. that's all.“

Undyne narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. She let out a slow breath, then pointed at the.. Lasagna?

„Okay. Ready to ruin your taste buds?“

„only if i survive.“

Undyne picked up two bowls and ladled something sludgy and vaguely orange into both. She handed one to Sans, who took it like he was holding a radioactive brick.

„so.. uh.“ He said, poking it with a spoon. „what exactly did you put in this?“

„A little of everything. Determination. Courage. Leftover spaghetti sauce.“

„oh, so you do cook with your feelings.“

„Damn right.“

Sans took a bite. „tastes... nice..?“

Undyne barked a laugh. „Yup! I call it Waterfall Surprise.“

„more like waterfall war crime.“

Sans sniffled the steaming mess in his bowl. „seriously, undyne.. this looks like it was in a fight with you.“

Undyne snorted. „Oh come on. It's not that bad.“

„pretty sure it just growled at me.“

She looked down at the bowl skeptically, then gave it a stir with the ladle. A suspicious bubble popped and a faint sizzle echoed like a distant scream.

Sans took a cautious poke at it with his spoon. „yep. defenitely alive. i think it just applied for citizenship.“

Undyne rolled her eyes. „If you're so smart, why don't you cook?“

„i would.“ He said. „but i don't want to get blamed for setting your house on fire.“

She groaned loudly. „Ugh! I forgot what it was like to have you over!“

„blame papyrus for that, he started all this.“

Undyne pointed her spoon at him accusingly. „You're like mold. Or a skeleton-shaped fungus.“

„that's just my fun-gi side.“ He said, shrugging his shoulders.

„I am going to throw this food at you!!“

Sans smirked. „no bone to pick with that.“

She did what she said she would, lobbled a spoonful of molted 'lasagna' at him. Sans dodged, teleporting to the other side of the kitchen and leaning casually on her countertop like a smug bug in a rug.

„careful.“ He started, teleporting back on his chair. „this place got enough spice without your temper.“

Undyne laughed despite herself and threw a towel she was mopping the floor with at him. „You are the worst, you know that?“

„and yet i'm still here.“ He said, catching the towel and draping it over his head like a tiny robe.

Sans stepped out of Undyne's house with a low sigh, the door creaking shut behind him. He started getting worried for his safety, so he decided to leave. The warmth and noise of her kitchen faded instantly into the cool hush of Waterfall. He didn't say goodbye, not really. Just muttered something half-hearted, shoved his hands deep into his pockets and left before this could be his last meal.

He told himself he needed fresh air. That he'd overstayed. That her house was too hot, or the steam was getting into his eyes sockets.

Truth was, the quiet was easier.

He walked slowly, his footsteps soft on the damp grass, the mist curling around his pink slippers. An echo flower glowed faintly near the edge of the path, but he didn't stop to listen to it. He already knew what it would say. The path through the Waterfall was familiar enough to walk with his eyes closed, but tonight he didn't mind letting it guide him.

Halfway through the mist, his phone buzzed in his pockets. He stopped, blinked, and fished it out.

'Papyrus'

He smiled, a little reluctantly, and answered. „hey, bro.“

„BROTHER.“ The sound on the other line came out overly loud, exhausted Papyrus' voice. „I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE..“

„let me guess.“ Sans said, beginning to walk again. „you finally beat that one cooking game where you have to light the stove on fire?“

„NO, I HAVE NOT BEATED 'OVERCOOKED: BATTLE MODE.' THAT GAME IS A MONSTROUS BEAST.“ There was a loud yawn on the other end. „NO, THIS IS MORE SERIOUS. I....... AM..... VERY... TIRED...“

Sans smirked. „tired enough to declare a national emergency?“

„YES... IN FACT, YOU WILL NEED TO MAKE DINNER TONIGHT.“ He said, leaning on the small couch like one of those french girls.

Sans stopped in his tracks. „wait. me?“

„YES, YOU. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE FOUGHT A LONG BATTLE TODAY... I SWEPT THE WHOLE HOUSE, FIXED THE BATHROOM SINK, DUG THROUGH THE GARBAGE FOR MY LOST SPAGHETTI STRAINER, AND I AM CURRENTLY UNDER THREE BLANKETS..!!“

Sans chuckled and started walking again, his shoulders relaxing as he moved. „three, huh? really stepping up your blanket game.“

„I... I NEED THEM TO MAINTAIN MINIMUM COZINESS REUIREMENTS. ANYWAY.. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR OUR ENERGY TONIGHT!“ He said, his voice a little blurry from the bad signal.

„minimum coziness..??“ He muttered to himself. He was cozy even if he didn't have any clothes on and slept on a bare mattress on the floor, which he usually did. „what if i just hand you a ketchup bottle and a spoon?“

„THEN... I WILL PERISH..“ He said, as if he had been through war by himself.

Sans rolled his eyes affectionately, even though Papyrus couldn't see him. „alright, i'll see what i can do.“

„OH, THANK YOU, BROTHER..! I SHALL REMAIN ON THE COUCH UNTIL YOU ARRIVE. UNMOVING. LIKE A.. ROYAL STATUE!“

„hmm, statues don't usually snore.“

„THAT'S WHERE YOU'RE WRONG!“

Sans snorted, rubbing a hand over his face as he stifled another laugh. „guess i walked right into this one.“

„AS YOU ALWAYS DO.“ Papyrus said, his voice triumphant despite the lingering exhaustion in it. „BUT THIS TIME, YOU SHALL WALK INTO THE KITCHEN INSTEAD. TO COOK.“

Sans sighed. „okay, what's on the menu?“

„I WAS THINKING......... SOMETHING ELEGANT. SOMETHING GRANT!“

„....toast..?“

„NO! WELL.. MAYBE. IF YOU ARRANGE IT IN A FANCY WAY, I SUPPOSE.“

Sans grinned. „stacked toast tower it is.“

„GASP! SANS! THAT'S GENIUS!“

„yeah, im toastally a genius.“

Papyrus groaned dramatically on the other end. „NO..! YOU HAVE TURNED AGAINST ME WITH YOUR PUNS!“

„nahh... i just loaf making you mad.“

„AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—“ There was a rustling sound like Papyrus burying himself further in his blanket pile. „I TAKE IT BACK! I'LL MAKE DINNER. I'LL DRAG MYSELF TO THE KITCHEN RIGHT NOW!“

„don't bother, paps. i'll handle it. just keep sitting on your throne of pillows and blankets and dream of spaghetti or whatever.“

There was a pause, then a quieter voice. „ARE YOU SURE?“

Sans' grin softened. „yeah. i got it.“

Another small pause. „THANKS, BROTHER. YOU'RE THE BEST.“

„nah.“ Sans muttered, a little quieter. „that's all you.“

Papyrus didn't hear it. Or if he did, he let it slide. „I EXPECT GREAT THINGS! NOT JUST A TOAST TOWER.“

Sans shook his head, still smiling faintly as he walked. „alright, i'll whip up somethin' edible. can't promise gourmet, but i'll keep the smoke to a minimum.“

„THAT'S THE SPIRIT! I'M GOING TO TAKE A WELL-EARNED POWER NAP. DON'T FORGET TO STIR COUNTER-CLOCKWISE—„

„cockwise makes the demons come out or??“

„SANS! DO NOT STIR CLOCKWISE!“ Papyrus practically screeched through the reciever. „DO YOU WANT THE FOOD TO DEVELOP SENTIENCE?!“

Sans wheezed, laughing now. „no promises, bro. sounds like it could spice up dinner.“

„THE LAST TIME I STIRRED CLOCKWISE, THE MICROWAVE MADE EYE CONTACT WITH ME!“

„nah, that was just the reflection of your forehead on the glass.“

„I AM GOING TO PRETEND I DIDN'T HEAR THAT.“ Papyrus huffed. „ANYWAY. THIS IS IMPORTANT, SANS. DO NOT MESS THIS UP. I AM TRUSTING YOU TO COOK WHILE I REST MY MAGNIFICENT SOON-TO-BE-ROYAL-GUARD SELF. THIS IS A BIG RESPONSIBILITY!“

„yeah, yeah.“ Sans said, kicking a pebble off the path. It skipped twice once, twice, then plopped into water. „i got you. i'll be home soon.“

„HOW SOON?“

„soon-soon.“ Sans said as he started walking again. „so two days maybe.“

Papyrus groaned so loudly it cracked through the speaker. „STOP WITH THE PUNS! I AM TOO TIRED TO DEAL WITH THIS LEVEL OF TOMFOOLERY!“

„i thought tomfoolery was your middle name?“ Sans spoke.

„IT'S NOT. MY MIDDLE NAME IS 'THE'.“ Papyrus said, sighing dramatically, like he was dying. „PAPYRUS. THE. MAGNIFICENT.“ He said, nodding his head after every word. „IT'S LONG FOR 'THE GREAT PAPYRUS'!“

Even though Sans thought Papyrus was finished with speaking, he added again. „NOW HURRY UP BEFORE I COLLAPSE FROM HUNGER AND GLORY.“

Sans smiled, small and lopsided, and even though his bones ached from walking, something about hearing Papyrus rant made things feel stable. „i'm on my way. don't start eating your arm again.“

„SANS! I WAS YOUNG, AND I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT IT EVEN WAS!!“

„sure.“ Sans said, turning toward the snowy slope that would lead him back to Snowdin. „hey, paps?“

„YES?“

„thanks for calling.“

There was a brief silence. Then, Papyrus spoke again, a little gentler. „I KNEW YOU NEEDED ME!!“

Sans swallowed, smile fading into something more tired. „yeah. see you soon.“

„DON'T BE LONG, I'M WEAK FROM STARVATION.“

„you're full of spaghetti.“ Sans said softly.

„AND YET I'M EMPTY INSIDE.“

Sans laughed softly, the sound trailing off as he ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket. The stars in the cavern above twinkled faintly, casting shimmering reflections in the water below.

He kept walking.

Dinner didn't sound too bad.

Chapter Text

Snow crunched quietly beneath Sans' slippers as he stepped up to the front door, his breath curling in the cold air. Snowdin was as peaceful as ever, blanketed in a soft, hush-hush kind of stillness that made everything feel like memory. The dim evening light spilled amber through the windows of their small, cozy house, flickering from the lamps Papyrus insisted they keep on when Sans was out.

He opened the door with a gentle creak, not bothering to knock. He never needed to knock. Home was the one place where doors didn't mean barriers.

„yo.“ He said to no one in particular, slipping inside and shutting out the cold behind him.

It was warm. Almost too warm. Okay, now he was sweating. He blinked once and squinted at the thermostat.

„eighty-nine? what, are we baking cookies or skeletons?“ He said, lowering the thermostat, but it was still hot. He removed his jacket and just threw it on a chair.

He toed off his slippers and shuffled through the living room, rubbing at his eye sockets. The couch was unnocupied for once, though there was a suspiciously folded blanket draped neatly across the cushions. No chewed pillows or foam. Papyrus had clearly been busy and moved from the couch.

Then, he spotted him.

Papyrus was passed out in the corner of the room in his favorite overstuffed armchair, body nearly folded in half like a accoridon due to how tall he was versus how not tall the chair was. His limbs stuck out at awkward angles under three, three absurdly thick blankets, one of which had a spaghetti pattern. His boots were still on, legs dangling over the arm of the chair like he'd just tipped over and given up halfway through standing.

And he was snoring. Loudly. Not in a rattly way, but with the occasinal dramatical exhale, like his bones were announcing his exhaustion to everybone. He kind of sounded like a saw.

Sans tilted his skull.

„never thought the great papyrus would be so defeated by his own furniture.“

Papyrus stirred slightly at the sound of Sans' voice, mumbling something. „I... I AM TOO BEAUTIFUL FOR LABOR...“ And then started snoring again, his head slumping to one side, a little smile stuck on his face.

Sans didn't wake him up.

He wandered into the kitchen, hands not in pockets cause he didn't have his jacket on. The place was a disaster, as usual. The sink was full of soaked bones, not that Sans could see because it was too high. One of the bones had a party hat on. Another one had googly eyes stuck to the end and a tiny cape.

The countertop was littered with half-finished pasta sculputres, a pot that looked like it had boiled over something that looked like gooey wood. Next to it was a slightly cracked plate with 'WORLD'S GREATEST BROTHER' written in glitter paint across the top.

„yep.“ Sans muttered. „culinary excellence.“

He opened the fridge. It made a mournful creaking sound, as if it knew it was about to be judged.

The inside of it was... Something.

Top shelf: Several unopened jars of spaghetti sauce, one labeld 'EXPERIMENTAL'. Another with a sticker that read 'DO NOT CONSUME (YET)'.

Middle shelf: A suspicious block of cheese wrapped in duct tape. It looked alive and in pain.

Bottom shelf: Four tubs of leftover lasagna, one of which had a tiny flag made of a toothpick and a piece of paper that said 'PAPYRUS VICTORY SNACK'.

And in ter far back, hidden behind a half-empty bottle of ketchup.... was Sans' emergency stash. He reached past the tower of noodles and grabbed it. A lightly stale hot dog, wrapped in foil and dignity, and a full bottle of ketcup.

„oh, baby.“ Sans whispered, unwrapping it and giving it a whiff. „you've aged like fine raisin.“

He poured ketchup over it, took a bite. Chewed slowly. Thought about time.

The kitchen light flickered slightly overhead, and he glanced up, then back to the darkened hallway where Papyrus was snoring in peace.

Nothing was grand or fancy. But it was home.

He looked out the window, where snow continued to drift past like falling ash. Soft and steady. The stars weren't out tonight, they rarely were.

Sans smiled. Sort of.

He took another bite of the hot dog and chewed thoughtfully. Somewhere behind him, Papyrus mumbled again in his sleep, louder this time.

„NO... I'M... THE ROYAL GUARD!“

„you're a real piece of work, huh.“ He said quietly, more affection than sarcasm in his voice.

Then, rubbing the back of his skull, he turned and shuffled back into the kitchen, bones crackling, just like Grillby was. „alright, chef sans..“ He muttered to himself.

He stood in front of the stove for longer than he'd admit, staring at it like it was some ancient puzzle left by Gaster himself.

Eventually, he opened the cupboard and grabbed a pot, not the shiny one labled 'SPAGHETTI ONLY!', but a dented, sad little saucepan that had defenitely seen better days, possibly in a war. It was labled 'PROPERTY OF GRILLBY????'.

„property of grillby?“ He read out loud, blinking. „....huh. well, finders keepers.“

Filling it with water took a little longer than expected.

„okay. water, stove, heat. easy. a real three-step process.“ He said, placing the pot onto the burner with confidence of a man who had no idea what he was doing. „let's get this cooking.“

Click.

The burner lit with a calm little flame. So far so good.

Sans leaned on the counter, propping his chin in one hand and letting his mind wander while the pot did its things. „boil, baby, boil.“

He smirked to himself. „look at me.“ He said proudly. „gordon ramsey's hell got nothin' on me.“

His gaze drifted across the room, taking in the crooked cabinet doors (thanks to Papyrus' remodeling), the pile of unused spaghetti strainers on the table, and the ridiculous motivational poster on the fridge that read 'COOKING IS JUST SCIENCE WITH MORE FLAMES!“

„hm. guess i'm a scientist.“ He muttered.

Then – hisssssss

He blinked. The water was making weird noises.

„...okay. that's normal.“

The hiss got louder.

Then the bubbles began.

„...also normal.“ Sans said, less confidently.

Then – BOOM

A sudden, angry puff of flame shot up from the water, curling around the handle like vengeful ghost. The water was boiling so violently that steam and heat filled the air like someone had summoned a small geyser in their kitchen.

„oh-uh.“

Sans took a step back, his grin faltering. The fire licked the edge of the pot and danced wildly, completely ignoring the basic laws of water not catching on fire.

„wait. waitwaitwaitwait.. no no no. no fire. this is bad..“

He reached for the nearest dish towel, which had a smiley face and the phrase 'PAPYRUS AND THE KITCHEN OF JUSTICE!' stitched on it. He began swatting wildly at the air above the flame, accomplishing absolutely nothing.

„okay okay okay – this is fine. this is totally fine. i've survived wayy worse. just a little.. what the hell am i doing burning water.. how is that even possible..?“ Sans cried out, staring at the bubbling fire of what was once H2O and dreams.

The fire got higher.

He dropped the towel.

„papyrus!“ He yelled, spinning on his heel and dashing into the living room. „pap! wake up, bro! i'm commiting crimes against the elements..!“

Papyrus didn't stir.

Sans went next to the mountain of blankets and gave a mournful poke. Then another. No response.

„c'mon... i need backup.“

Still nothing.

He took a deep breath. „okay. desperate times.“

A heavy sigh.

„the house is on fire!“ Sans shouted. „and i think i burnt the water!“

There was a beat of absolute silence.

Then the blanket pile exploded.

Papyrus shot up like a missle, cape flapping behind him, flinging itself into air on its own like it was alive. „WHAT!?“

„yeah!“ Sans said. „i burnt the water!“

„YOU WHAT?!“ Papyrus spoke, more confused than alarmed.

„i burnt the water, paps!“

„THIS IS A DISASTER! THIS IS A CATASTROPHE. THIS IS A FLAMMABLE FALIURE!

Papyrus didn't waste another second. He dashed past Sans like a spaghetti-fueled hurricane, racing into the kitchen with righteus fury. Sans trailed behind him, muttering something. „honestly, i didn't even know that was possible..“

By the time he entered, Papyrus had already turned off the burner, flung a lid on the pot, and was dusing the stovetop with the emergency 'SOUP PANIC BUCKET' he kept under the sink. It sloshed everywhere, soaking the floor and the room smelling vaguely of celery and disaster.

Papyrus turned around dramatically, ladle clenched in one hand like a sword.

„WHAT. DID. YOU. DO.“

„uhh... i made water angry?“

Papyrus stormed over and peered into the pot. The water inside was charred black at the edges, still hissing in resentment.

„YOU SCORCHED THE POT!“

„didn't even know that was possible.“

„WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO COOK?!“

„water.“

„JUST.. WATER?!“

Sans stood in the doorway, sheepishly rubbing the back of his skull. „i was tryin' to boil some water. it escelated.“

Papyrus' eyes narrowed in genuine disbelief, but he didn't respond.

He was staring.

At the wall.

Where the stove was.

The once white wall now had a large, charred black streak climbing toward the ceiling like a smoke demon had tried to escape. The wallpaper was peeled and black at the corners, curling in on itself. The air still carried that very specific smell. Burnt metal, overcooked regret and slightly incinerated hope.

Papyrus slowly turned to Sans. His eyes were wide. Too wide.

Sans took a step back.

„uh. it's kinda an improvement, right? adds a little.. warmth to the decor..“

Papyrus' jaw dropped.

„YOU-„ His voice trembled. „YOU BURNT. THE WALL.“

Sans glanced at the damage, then back at Papyrus. „well. the wall was askin' for it.“

Papyrus stomped across the kitchen. „THE WALL, SANS. HOW DID YOU EVEN – THE FIRE WAS IN THE POT! HOW DID IT JUMP TO THE WALL!??“

„maybe... it wanted to go on a journey..? walls gets bored too.“

„NO! NO PUNS! THIS ISN'T A JOKE, SANS!“

„...it kind of is.“

„NO IT ISN'T!!“

Papyrus spun, flailling a hand toward the wreckage like he was presenting a very disappointing game show prize.

„LOOK AT THIS! THAT'S.. THAT'S NOT EVEN A COOKING ACCIDENT! THAT'S A CRIME SCENE!“

He stormed to the cabinet, yanked it open, grabbed the emergency frozen spaghetti marked 'IN CASE OF KITCHEN DISASTER' in blocky red letters, and shoved it into the microwave.

Then, he pointed one finger, dramatically, toward Sans.

„YOU. YOU ARE OFFICIALLY BANNED FROM THE KITCHEN!“

Sans blinked. „like.. forever?“

„FOREVER.“

Sans paused. „even for snacks?“

„YES.“

„what if i teleport in by accident?“

„THEN YOU WILL BE RE-BANNED TWICE AS HARD!“

„dang. double-banned.“

Papyrus nodded firmly, like justice had been served with a ladle of moral superiority.

Sans raised both hands in defeat, grinning despite himself. „alright, alright. i'll retire. goin' out in a blaze of glory.“

„LITERALLY.“ Papyrus snapped, jabbing toward the scorched wall again.

„don't worry.“ Sans said, shuffling backward. „from now on, i'll only burn things emotinally.“

Papyrus groaned and slapped a dish towel over his face. „YOU'RE A MORON!“

„nah.“ Sans muttered, finally retreating to the couch. „just one real flamin' chef.“

Papyrus didn't respond. He was already scribbling a sticky note and slapped it on the door of the kitchen saying: SANS, DO NOT ENTER! THIS MEANS YOU!

Papyrus stomped into the living room with a plate of slightly soggy, aggressively microwaved spaghetti. The noodles wobbled like they were reconcidering their life choises, and the tomato sauce had exploded somewhere inside the microwave.

Sans was already sprawled out on the couch, one leg tucked under him, the other dangling lazily off the side. He was in his usual attire: a loose tshirt with some indistinguishable stain on the front, and those worn-out slippers that flopped when he walked.

He looked about as threatening as a soggy sock.

Papyrus loomed over him, spaghetti plate in hand, his face flushed with dramatic rage. The couch creaked under his weight as he sat beside Sans, though 'beside' might be generous. Papyrus was practically five feet away from his brother. Sans looked like a misbehaving toddler next to a towering dad, arms behind his head like he hadn't just set the entire culinary world on fire.

„ALL I WANTED-„ Papyrus stabbed his fork into the spaghetti like it owed him money. „WAS ONE NIGHT. ONE NIGHT TO REST.“

„hey, i was helping.“

„HELPING!? YOU BURNT THE WATER, SANS!“

„technically.“ He said, waving a hand. „the stove did that. i'm just the guy who got blamed on it.“

Papyrus glared at him. „YOU SET WATER ON FIRE. HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE??“

Sans shrugged, letting out a tiny snort. „guess i'm just.... boilin' with talent.“

Papyrus let his head thunk back dramatically against the couch. „I SHOULD HAVE JUST MADE DINNER. THIS IS MY PUNISHMENT FOR BEING TIRED..“

Sans snickered, but didn't push it. He leaned further into the couch, letting the silence stretch for a moment. His fingers tapped idly on his stomach, clacking bone against fabric, his short frame almost swallowed up in the oversized cushions.

Papyrus shoved a bite of spaghetti into his mouth, chewing furiously like the noodle were to blame.

„...AND NOW THE KITCHEN SMELLS LIKE BURNT WALLPAPER.. LITERALLY.“ He muttered around a mouthful.

Sans cracked one eye open. „honestly? kinda smells better than usual.“

Papyrus stared at him. Then turned slowly toward the spaghetti. „...YOU TAKE THAT BACK.“

„no offense, bro, but your sauce got the same consistency as a math test.“

Papyrus made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a choke. „THAT IS IT. NEW RULE. YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO JUDGE FOOD EITHER.“

Sans raised both hands in surrender, his short arms somehow reaching over his head. „alright, alright. i'll stick to being the house mold.“

Papyrus groaned. „SOMETIMES I ACTUALLY THINK YOU'RE TRYING TO GET BANNED FROM EXISTANCE!!“

„nah.“ Sans muttered. „you'd just reset me.“

That made Papyrus freeze for a moment. The grin faltered from Sans' face, just barely. But Papyrus didn't say anything about that. He just nudged the plate of spaghetti toward his brother with a sigh.

„EAT THIS. YOU'RE LUCKY IM FORGIVING!“

Sans looked at the sad spaghetti. Then at Papyrus. „what if i say no?“

Papyrus narrowed his eyes.

„...fine.“

Sans grabbed a fork and poked at the pasta like it might retaliate. The noodles clung together in fear. He took one bite, then nodded.

„not bad.“

His brother beamed. „..REALLY?“

„yup.“

Papyrus smiled.

Sans twirled another bite of lukewarm spaghetti around his fork, chewing absently as he tilted his head back and looked up toward the ceiling.

„hey, uh..“ He squinted. „didn't you say you cleaned the whole house today?“

Papyrus mid-slurp, paused. „OF COURSE I DID. I ALWAYS CLEAN THE HOUSE.“

„huh.“ Sans pointed upward with his fork. „then why's there that cobweb above the TV looking at you like it just found your browser history?“

Papyrus choked. „W-WHAT!?“

He craned his neck up and saw it. Just a little tangle of web clinging to the corner, lazily swaying with each draft. A tiny spider poked its head out and blinked at him with all the smugness of a villian that succeded.

„NO!“ Papyrus dropped his fork onto the plate with a wet splat and leapt to his feet. „I CLEANED THAT CORNER! I KNOW I DID!“

Sans leaned back with a lazy grin, resting the side of his skull against the couch arm. „maybe it respawned. we are in a game.“

„WE ARE NOT IN A GAME- THAT.. NO! I REFUSE TO BE DEFEATED BY A CEILING SPIDER!“

Papyrus stormed out of the room. A moment later, Sans heard the clang of a broom handle, a few aggressive thuds, and the sound of Papyrus yelling something about 'STUPID SPIDER.. NO I SHOULDN'T SAY THAT..'“

While he was gone, Sans stretched, sighing quietly to himself. The spaghetti sat on the table, somewhat intact. A small glob of sauce slid down the side of the plate with the determination of a froggit.

Papyrus returned moments later, broom in hand like a knight after battle.

„VICTORY!“ He announced. „THE ENEMY HAS VANISHED!“

„sure it was the only one?“ Sans teased.

Papyrus glared. „I SWEAR ON MY BONES, SANS! DON'T TEST ME TONIGHT!“

„alright, alright.“ Sans smiled, holding up his hands in surrender. „just sayin', if you cleaned everything, maybe the ceiling didn't get the memo.“

Papyrus jumped and flopped back onto the couch 'beside' him, muttering something about buying more ladders.

After a beat, Sans tapped his fork on the plate again, staring toward the kitchen doorway.

„...hey, pap.“

„WHAT NOW?“

„why do we have, like, seven spaghetti strainers?“

Papyrus blinked. „EIGHT, ACTUALLY.“

„why?“

„FOR OPTIONS, SANS!“

„you strain spaghetti one way.“

„WRONG! THERE ARE MANY STYLERS OF DRAINING, SANS. THE ANGLED POUR. THE FILP-AND-STRAIN. THE DOUBLE SINK SHUFFLE. AND-AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON SPGAHETTI TYPES!“

Sans leaned forward, counting his fingers. „okay.. bowl with holes.. weird basket-thing with the handles.. that hat-shaped one you tried to wear last winter..“

Papyrus was grinning now, his earlier exhaustion overshadowed by his endless passion. „THAT ONE IS FOR ANGEL HAIR. AND ALSO FOR THEATER!“

Sans chuckled, low and raspy. „hair..? and theater?“

„YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU'LL BE CALLED TO PREFORM SPGAHETTI TRAGEDY.“

Sans wiped a fake tear from his eyes sockets. „truly, a tale of pasta and pain.“

They sat together, the quiet sweeping in slowly now. Papyrus slouched, his head tilting against the couch cushions, eyes hlaf-lidded with sleep. Sans finished the last of the spaghetti, though he couldn't tell if he was proud of that or not.

Papyrus didn't say much after that. His dramatic flare had burned out like the last flickers of a candle.

Sans barely moved, just glanced sideways when he felt the familiar weight of Papyrus' head lean against his shoulder.

He blinked. Slowly.

Papyrus didn't say anything. His eyes were closed. The lights from the TV, left on from earlier, cast a soft, flickering glow over the room. It danced across Papyrus' skull like a whisper of a lullaby. Sans could feel the rhythm of his brother's breathing, light and steady. The kind of peace that didn't come often these days.

For a moment, Sans didn't breathe at all, afraid that his brother might wake up.

Papyrus' arms were curled loosely around one of the couch pillows, his legs still dangling off the edge awkwardly, like he'd just toppled over mid-sentance and never bothered to fix it.

Sans let out a soft breath, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.

He stayed still. He could've gotten up. Could've teleported to his bedroom, or leave Papyrus there and pulled a blanket over him like usual.

But instead, Sans stayed.

One hand moved slightly, adjusting Papyrus' scarf so it didn't get caught between the couch cushions.

Sans looked ahead, not at the TV, but past it. His sockets felt heavier than usual. But not in a bad way.

He leaned his skull gently on the side, just barely resting it against Papyrus.

Sans blinked.

Just once.

That was all it took.

One blink, maybe a second, maybe less, and he weight of peace that had wrapped around him, that quiet warmth of a night spent with his brother alseep.. Vanished.

The faint smell of Waterfall greeted him again. Damp moss, the chill of mist, the ever-present echo of water dripping somewhere in the distance. The glowing blue flowers illuminated the cavern in soft, dreamlike pulses.

There he was again.

He exhaled, jaw tensing as his breath fogged slightly in the cool air.

„so that's how it is, huh..?“

The kid had died, again.

It hadn't been long, though. This reset had only taken him back a little. Must have been a small mistake. A misstep. The kid was still playing nice.

Sill, it meant he lost some memories that still lived in his head.

The burnt kitchen, the talk on the couch.

Gone.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

The worst part wasn't losing the moment.

It was knowing how real it had felt.

...

His phone buzzed.

Right on time.

He took a deep breath, forcing the usual lazy grin into his voice before answering.

„heya.“

„BROTHERRRRRRRR!!!“ A shout came out, so loud and sudden that Sans had to yank the phone slightly away from his ear. „I AM PERISHING!“

Sans blinked. „that bad, huh?“

„I AM DRAINED OF ALL ENERGY. I HAVE GIVEN THE DAY MY EVERYTHING! I CLEANED THE ENTIRE HOUSE TWICE! ONCE FOR CLEANING, THE SECOND TIME TO MAKE SURE THE FIRST CLEAN WAS THOROUGHLY CLEANED!“

„sounds exhausting.“

„IT WAS EXHAUSTING.“ Papyrus groaned dramatically. „AND NOW... I AM.. UTTERLY, COSMICALLY EXHAUSTED... I AM COLLAPSING INTO THE COUCH LIKE A WOUNDED GLADIATOR UNDER THREE BLANKETS! MY BONES ACHE FROM TRIUMPH..“

„wow. tragic.“ Sans muttered, kicking a rock as he walked. „guess that means dinner's on me, huh?“

„YES. YES IT DOES.“ Papyrus sighed, deeply. „AND I TRUST YOU, SANS. I BELIEVE IN YOU. I HAVE FAITH THAT YOU WILL PRODUCE SOMETHING... EDIBLE..“

„such confidence.“

„I MEAN THAT IN A SUPPORTIVE WAY!“

„uh-huh.“

There was a pause, the kind that seemed to stretch a little longer than it needed to. Sans let the silence hand for a second, listened to the quiet whispers of echo flowers. And the occasional Grillby's crackling.

Papyrus' voice came back, a little softer this time. „YOU'RE WALKING HOME, RIGHT?“

„yeah. just left undyne's a little while ago.“

„GOOD. BECAUSE IF I DON'T HEAR THE FRONT DOOR OPEN SOON, I AM GOING TO ASSUME YOU WERE KIDNAPPED BY A GIANT TUMBLEWEED.“

„pretty sure we don't have those.“

„I DON'T MAKE THE RULES!“

Another beat. Sans rubbed at the back of his neck, his smile fading a little bit. The day was different now. A quiet kind of weight had returned, and even if everything looked the same, he knew it wasn't. Not really.

„i'll be home soon.“ He said, softer this time.

Papyrus perked up again. „EXCELLENT- OH, I MEAN... I AM SOO..... TIRED.......... I DON'T NEED ANYTHING FANCY...... JUST TO FEED MY BEAUTIFUL SELF..!“

„we got, like, five cans of ravioli left.“

„OHHH! UHM.. OH........... RAVIOLI SURPRISE..!“

„pretty sure the surprise is just mold.“

„DELICIOUSLY AGED PASTA!“

Sans rolled his eyes. But couldn't help the grin tugging back at his face. „alright, chef pap. see you in a few.“

„I'LL BE HERE, UNDER THE THREE BLANKETS WERE I CURRENTLY AM! MAYBE... EVEN A LITTLE DEHYDRATED... YOU CAN BRING ME WATER WHEN YOU COME.“

„paps, you're three feet away from the kitchen.“

„THREE FEET OF AGONY!“

„fine, you got it.“

Click.

He exhaled slowly, his grin fading again as the stillness settled over him like dust.

„lets try not to burn anything this time...“ He muttered to himself before teleporting home.

The teleportation buzzed faintly in his bones, a crackle of static and magic flickering through the air. One blink and Waterfall was gone. Another, and the cool quiet of Snowdin settled around him like an old blanket. He stood in the middle of the living room, the floorboards creaking softly under his slippers.

„hm.“

The house was still. Not quiet in the heavy, uncomfortable way, more like the kind of quiet that hummed gently in the walls, the kind made by home that's been lived in for a long time.

And there, curled into the couch like a giant skeleton burrito, was Papyrus.

Three blankets, thick, colorful, slightly mismached, were heaped over him in layers. A corner of one was slipping off the couch, trailing across the floor like a banner in retreat. Papyrus' skull rested at an awkward angle on a bright orange pillow. One of his arms dangled dramatically off the edge like he'd fainted in the middle of a soap opera. His other hand loosely cluched the TV remote. The screen glowed faintly in the dark, a paused episode of 'Cooking with Mettaton' frozen mid-dramatic pose.

Sans blinked.

They'd just talked. Just talked. Thirty seconds ago.

The last time, he walked home, instead of teleporting, so it made sense why Papyrus was sleeping so deeply. But thirty seconds?

He took a few quiet steps forward, his short frame padding softly over the carpet. His blue jacket was slung over one arm. He'd stripped it off as soon as he'd felt the blast of heat from the thermostat. 89 degrees. Who cranks the heat in Snowdin of all places? Probably Papyrus, trying to replicate Hotland's ideal cooking climate. Or maybe he just liked pretending they lived in a volcano.

Sans stood in his shorts and t-shirt, bones gleaming faintly in the light. The handplate on his hand caught a little shine as he pulled the third blanket back up over Papyrus' shoulders.

The younger skeleton stirred a little, curling tighter into the couch cushion, but didn't wake up. He looked peaceful. Tired, but peaceful.

Sans stood there for a moment, hand still hovering over the blanket.

He sighed and turned toward the kitchen, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. „alright. let's do this right.“

And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't burn the water this time.

Sans stepped into the kitchen like a soldier returning to the battlefield. The overhead light buzzed, casting a pale yellow wash over the familiar chaos.

He rubbed his face with both hands, muttering. „okay, let's see what kind of food i can actually cook..“

He opened the fridge.

Spaghetti.

He closed the fridge.

He opened the freezer.

Frozen spaghetti.

He opened the pantry.

Cans of tomato sauce lined the top shelf like trophies. Boxes and boxes of pasta stacked like bricks. A lone jar of pickles. At least six spaghetti strainers. No. Eight. Why so many? Now he knew why. Straining styles, of course.

He checked the cabinets. Nothing but more spaghetti, one box of expired noodles, and a comically tiny bottle of cinnamon labled 'FOR DESSERT SPAGHETTI' in red marker.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the assortment. „how it is even possible to have this much spaghetti and nothing else..?“

Finally, his gaze drifted to the fridge he left open and checking for the fifth time. And there it was, behind a half empty bottle of ketchup. Again.

A single soggy hot dog and a full bottle of ketchup. The same one he'd eaten before the reset. Apparently, time hadn't let it go either.

„you again, huh..?“ He whispered to it grimly.

He contemplated the hot dog. Then he looked toward the sink.

The faucet dripped once. The stove flickered softly, as if mocking him.

Sans was getting PTSD.

He sighed.

„alright. i can do this.“

He took the little saucepan and filled it in the sink. The cold water hissed and splashed. He turned to the stove, slowly, eying the burner like it might bite him.

He set the pot down gently. Like he was placing an ancient relic onto a shelf.

He turned on the stove and took two careful steps back.

„okay.“ He muttered, holding both hands up as if scaring away the fire spirits. „no one panic. we are not burning the water tonight.“

The flame flickered to life under the pot. A quiet blue circle, dancing.

He stared at it.

He didn't breathe.

„okay...“

Just water. Heating.

Progress. Mabye.

He leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching the pot like it might betray him any second. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but feel like he was tempting fate. Again.

„second time's the charm, right? is that the saying..?“

No, it wasn't.

Sans had one job.

One, single, uncomplicated job.

Boil water.

Again.

He stood stiffly by the stove like he was guarding Underground secrets, his eye sockets locked onto the pot as if sheer willpower alone could keep it from betraying him again. The soft blue flame licked at the base of the pot, quiet and undisturbed. Innocent, even. But Sans didn't trust it. Not anymore.

He crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. Rested his chin in one hand. Then stopped that too, because what if the shift in the air disturbed something?

The pot didn't respond. The water inside rolled gently, starting to shimmer. No sign of chaos. Yet.

Time ticked on.

He counted it in his head. Five minutes. Six. Seven. Still no fire. Still no disaster.

Sans let out a cautious breath, stepping a bit closer, peering in. A few bubbles had begun to rise. The start of a boil. It was actually working. He grinned a little.

„look at you.“ he muttered to the water. „actually behaving.“

Even though it was just water boiling. Tonight, it was personal.

He sniffed the air. No smoke. No heat but the expected kind. So far, so good.

He let himself relax just a fraction. Let his shoulders drop. Maybe this time he'd pull it off. Maybe Papyrus wouldn't wake up to another kitchen emergency with walls charred and smoke in the air.

Then, against every instinct in his body, he looked away.

Just for one second.

Just to scracth the back od his skull and mumble. „wonder if we got any of that mystery cheese left...“

And that was all it took.

WHOOSH!

A sudden flare of light. A heatwave slammed him in the face.

Sans jerked his face back and stumbled, eyes wide.

The pot was on fire.

No. Not just the pot.

The stove was on fire.

The wall behind the stove was on fire.

The cabinets above the stove were beginning to smolder.

„what the-.“ Sans wheezed. „it's worse- it's way worse!“

Flames went up like hungry hands, smoke pouring into the kitchen in huge black clouds. The cobwebs he'd been mocking earlier disinigrated instantly.

The pot was boiling over while also somehow being on fire. That shouldn't even be possible. The laws of physics had been not just bent, but thrown out the window.

„why?!“ Sans said to himself. „it was just water!“

Panicked, he grabbed a dish towel and tried to beat the flames out, only to have the towel catch fire too. He yelped, flung it into the sink, turned on the faucet, and got blasted with steam. Somewhere in the chaos, a spaghetti strainer clattered off a high shelf and bounced off his skull.

„ow! oh, you wanna go??“

He kicked the strainer across the room.

The fire roared higher.

He opened the fridge in a panic, grabbed a bottle of sparkling water, because that's all they had, and launched it at the flame. The bottle exploded in a dramatic POP, spraying fizzy lemon water everywhere.

„oh yeah, that helped.“ He muttered, coughing. „real smart, sans.“

He turned and opened every window he could. The heat was unbearable. The smoke was worse. The smell of scorched everything – plastic, metal and his dignity.

He reached for a towel and hesitated. It was the only one if the kitchen, but it was Papyrus'. He cried once when he lost it. What would he do if it got burnt?

He paused. Looked down at his shorts. Realized he didn't have many options.

He sprinted to the hallway, tore open the bathroom door, yanked the plunger from beside the toilet and ran back, eyes wide. He did all that without Papyrus waking up. Impressive.

He jabbed at the fire with the plunger.

It did absolutely nothing.

„what was i thinking..“

He stood there, surrounded by smoke, flames, and poor decisions. Hands on his hips, face faintly illuminated by the firelight.

„well, could be worse..“ He muttered.

Another creak echoed from the wall. A spaghetti strainer tumbled off the top shelf, hit the counter, and bounced to the floor with a sad little clang.

Sans stared at it.

„...traitor.“

The fire bloomed faster than Sans expected.

It wasn't just a little fire. It wasn't even a 'this is manageable if i stay calm' kind of fire. No. This was a wall-devouring, ceiling-licking, open-portal-to-hell kind of fire.

All from a pot of water. 💔🥀

He stood there, stunned, sockets wide as heat pulsed against his skull. The stovetop was a glowing inferno, orange and blue flames twisted upward, casting wild shadows across the cabinets. The kitchen ceiling groaned, scorched paint beginning to flake.

„you gotta be kidding me.“ Sans muttered, smoke already curling around his feet.

A moment passed.

Then another.

The flames cracked louder.

He turned and sprinted down the hallway, socks sliding on the hardwood, smoke trailing behind him like a cartoon disaster. The living room was warm. Too warm. He stumbled in to find Papyrus still fast asleep on the couch, wrapped burrito-style under a fortress of the three thickest blankets.

„paps.“ Sans whispered, gently kneeling beside the couch. „hey. buddy. bro.“

Papyrus didn't stir.

„listen, i really hate to wake you, you're lookin' real comfy and all, but, uhh... our kitchen might be doing a real convincing impression of a volcano right now.“

Still nothing. Just the faint murmuring of someone deep asleep in the land of spaghetti dreams.

„come on, paps...“ Sans tried again, gently shaking his shoulder. „just need you to get up for a sec. kitchen's on fire. no biggie..“

Papyrus sighed in his sleep. „NOO, SANS.... NOT THE MEATBALLS..... THEY ARE TOO POWERFUL...“

„ok, that's cute.“ Sans muttered. „but now's really not the time.“

He stood, backing away.

„alright. gentle option's done.“

He took a deep breath, stepped to the side of the couch and yelled.

„papyrus! undyne doesn't want to accept you into royal guard!“

Papyrus exploded upright with the grace of a startled giraffe, blankets falling in all directions. „WHAT?!“

Sans pointed down the hallway, where a curl of black smoke was starting to seep in. „paps, the kitchen is on fire!“

„WHAT.. BUT UNDYNE?“

„i lied!“

„WAIT- WHAT DID YOU DO?!“

„tried to boil water.“

„HOW?!“

„i don't know!“

Papyrus whipped around and, in one impossibly smooth motion, reached into the broom closet and pulled out the ancient fire extinguisher. The one responisble adult purchase in the house, buried behind three broken mops and a deflated beach ball.

He yanked the pin out with his teeth and stormed toward the fire like a knight charging into battle.

„I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL TAME THIS BEAST OF FLAMES!“

„grillby's not here- ohhh...“

WHOOSH.

PHWOOOOWW.

Clouds of white foam blasted across the kitchen. The fire hissed and shrieked as if personally offended. Within seconds, the flames sputtered out, defeated by Papyrus' righeour fury and one expired fire extinguisher.

The kitchen was now a warzone. Blackened walls, puddles of foam, a charred pot on the stove.

Sans peek out from behind the hallway. „is it... dead?“

Papyrus turned to him slowly.

„YOU. ARE. BANNED.“

Sans raised both hands, backing away. „okay, okay, that's fair. i accept my sentance.“

Papyrus marched past him toward the living room, leaving white foam footprints behind. „FOR LIFE, SANS!“

„lifetime ban. got it.“

„YOU SHALL NEVER TOUCH A POT. A PAN. A MICROWAVE. NOT EVEN A TOASTER.“

„harsh, but okay..“

„AND IF I SEE YOU LOOKING AT THE STOVE AGAIN-!“

„i'll wear blinders. promise.“

Then.

Papyrus paused.

He had spotted it.

There, by the stove, next to the melted pot and the blackened ladle..... was his prized spaghetti strainer.

Or rather, what was left of it.

The once proud metal basket was warped into a lopsided, melted.. thing. Its handle had snapped off, and one of the little straining holes had bubbled outward in some freaky heat mutation.

Papyrus stared.

He slowly walked toward it, knelt, and gently picked it up the remains like it was a fallen comrade.

„MY....“ He whispered. „MY STRAINER...“

Sans winced. „yeah. brave little guy..“

Papyrus let out a soft, devestated gasp.

„HE WAS THE BEST OF THEM. THE STRAINIEST..!!“

He held the twisted remains to his chest like a tragic hero mourning the end of an era.

„STRONGETTI... YOU WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN...!“

Sans coughed. „i mean, on the bright side... now we've got more to room in the cabinet for more pasta..??“

Papyrus turned slowly.

Sans gave a weak grin. „too soon?“

Papyrus said nothing.

The kitchen was a warzone, so they ate in the living room instead.

Papyrus had microwaved a backup container of frozen spaghetti, a peace offering to himself more than anything, and brought it into the living room without a word. He plopped it onto the coffee table, retrieving two forks, and handed Sans one with all enthusiasm of someone handing over a parking ticket.

Now, they sat in silence. Very far apart, Papyrus on one end of the couch, draped in his triple blanket budle like a betrayed emperor. Sans on the other side, in shorts and a smeared t-shirt, his legs barely reaching the floor. The room was still too warm, but neither of them moved to adjust the thermostat.

Sans twirled some spaghetti around his fork. It was... microwaved. Fine. Papyrus' usual effort still outshined anything Sans could create, though that wasn't a high bar anymore. He cleared his throat.

„so... pretty good, huh? i mean, y'know. aside from the near-death by the stovetop.“

Papyrus gave a long, slow blink and did not respond.

There was a quiet stretch again, just the scrape of utensils and the buzz of the overhead light.

„....i really tried this time.“ Sans said casually, trying to slice through the silence like it wasn't as dense as the pasta. „watched the pot, didn't look away for like.. two minutes? solid effort.“

Papyrus didn't look up.

„but uh.“ Sans scratched his cheekbone, trying to find the right words. „guess it just... caught on fire. again.“

Papyrus froze mid-bite. Slowly, he set his fork down.

„AGAIN..?“

Sans blinked. „uh...“

Papyrus stood up slowly, dramatically, like a villian rising from a throne.

„AGAIN?“

„no no, i mean, not again like that. not your again. just.... you know. timeline stuff.“

Papyrus' eyes narrowed into thin, orange glowing lines. „...TIMELINE STUFF?“

Sans rubbed the back of his head, his eyes shifting away. „slip of the tongue, heh. guess it's just..“

Papyrus set his plate down very, very gently. „YOU MEAN TO TELL ME.. THAT THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME YOU BURNED OUR ENTIRE KITCHEN TO THE GROUND?“

„uhhhhhhh... define 'entire.'“

Papyrus glared at him. „SANS.“

„okay, okay, look. it wasn't this kitchen, not technically. just... y'know. same layout. same... memories. different timeline.“

Papyrus' eye sockets widened. „ARE YOU SAYING THAT YOU ALREADY BURNED DOWN THE KITCHEN AND I NEVER KNEW ABOUT IT BECAUSE—BECAUSE—“

„yeah.“ Sans muttered. „the human... reset. and i didn't tell you. figured you'd be mad.“

„OF COURSE I'D GET MAD! YOU BURNT THE KITCHEN TWICE, SANS!“

„actually, it was the same kitchen, and—“

„TWICE!“

Sans held up his hands. „alright, yeah. twice.“

Papyrus pointed dramatically to the ceiling. „I BAN YOU FROM THE KITCHEN FOREVER!“

„i thought i already was.“

„DOUBLE-BANNED.“

They sat in silence for a while. Then Sans looked down at his bowl and muttered. „man, you'd think i'd learn after the first time.“

Papyrus groaned and flopped his head back dramatically. „I SWEAR TO ASGORE, SANS, NEXT RESET I'M LEAVING YOU A NOTE!“

Sans smiled, leaning back. „fair enough.“

Papyrus ended up falling asleep, he was tired after all. Sans, a good older brother, decided to hold Papyrus close to himself and he teleported him to Papyrus' bedroom. Sans went into his own bedroom and fell asleep next to the mattress.

Damn.