Author's Note:

'Ello. Welcome to my newest story. C; This one has a bit more planning, so it'll go in the direction I want. In this story, FRISK WILL BE A GIRL. If I accidentally put "they" or "them" or some other a-gender pronoun, bear with me. Also, I'm assuming Frisk is around 13-ish in this story, but is a little small for their age. Thanks, and enjoy.

PS: I will use zero's to seperate lines n' stuff, because doesn't like special characters.

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Chapter 1: And It Was Going So Well.

Sans eye glowed, as he glared with all the intensity in the world. He raised his hand slowly… and brought the plate of spaghetti over to the couch from the kitchen. Frisk was bundled up in a blanket next to him, smiling as she watched Sans stare at the pasta. Papyrus watched Sans eagerly from the kitchen.

Frisk and Papyrus both watched as Sans took a small bite of the pasta. His mouth opened as he inserted the food(?) to be consumed. Frisk could barely keep a straight face as she watched Sans' unwavering gaze. Chewing, and swallowing, Sans stroked his imaginary goatee thoughtfully. Papyrus couldn't take it anymore.

"SANS! WHAT DO YOU THINK?" He waited with baited breath.

Sans turned his head ever so slightly to focus his eyes onto Papyrus' face. His seriousness dropped in an instant and his face took on his usual grin. His hand formed into a thumbs up and he winked.

"It's great, bro." Frisk couldn't contain her laughter anymore, and her straight face faltered as she giggled. "You're really improving." Papyrus' face sagged with relief and he straightened up. "WELL OF COURSE! THE GREAT PAPYRUS MAKES EXCELLENT PASTA, NO MATTER WHAT KIND!"

Papyrus was getting pretty good at cooking, Frisk had to admit. When she'd first come to Snowdin in the underground, Papyrus had barely been able to cook anything edible. However, with constant cooking lessons from both Toriel, (which improved his cooking greatly) and Undyne, (which actually worsened it) he was slowly getting better. Frisk had to remind herself that they weren't in the undergound anymore daily. It just felt surreal, finally escaping the underground. After they'd made it to the surface, Frisk had gone to live with Toriel. It'd been one year now, and things were marvelous. Mettaton was off somewhere doing his thing, Alphys was a top scientist at a big research center, or so Sans told her, and the brothers? Well, Papyrus cooked and trained with Undyne a ton. Sans? He pretty much hung around random places being lazy and sleeping, or was at the house. Sans was really Frisk's favorite person to talk to. He was funny, and comforting. Many a night when Frisk was plagued with nightmares, she'd hop over to the brother's house. Sans would be there, awake, almost like he knew she would come. Covering her with a blanket and giving her a cup of warm milk, chocolate, or water, he'd sit next to her with his hand around her, listening as she told him in tears what she'd dreamed about. It was safe to tell him, even though most of the dreams revolved around the genocide runs, since Sans already knew. And he sure wasn't going to tell anyone. Or so she hoped. He never had before, anyway. As the year had gone by, she'd also gotten taller. Frisk couldn't remember the last time she'd actually seen progress on her height, so she was pretty excited about that. She was now a few inches taller than Sans, which made her proud, and Sans annoyed.

"You there, kid?" Sans said, waving his hand in front of her face.

"Wuh? Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry." Frisk apologized. Sometimes she got caught up in her thoughts.

"Yeah, so, we gonna finish this episode or what?" Sans folded his arms, gesturing toward the paused TV screen with his elbow.

"Yeah, let's do it, Sans." Frisk replied, snuggling in beside him with her favorite of the brother's blankets curled around her like a cocoon. The episode resumed, as Sans settled against Frisk as well. She never figured out how he could do that. Something with his magic to start the episode without using the remote. Or maybe he just pushed the button on the remote with his magic? Whatever.

Frisk felt her eyelids becoming heavier as the episode wore on. It was already 11:30. As her eyelids drooped even more, Frisk felt a rare emotion wash over her. Contentedness.

Life was good.