It was fine.
It had been three years since the barrier had been shattered and they'd first moved to the surface.
Once they found the run-down inn on the side of Mount Ebott, they found they didn't particularly want to hang with humans anyway.
They spent a year making it somewhere you might one day refer to as 'home'. The final set-up looked suspiciously like Snowdin.
It was fine. Everything was mostly the same.
Minus Frisk.
They stayed for a little while — Papyrus helped them make their room look just like their old one.
But Frisk didn't call it home.
They missed after-dinner hot chocolate (Papyrus could never make it the way Frisk's mom did), the smell of fresh laundry, their dad's bedtime stories…
Papyrus missed Frisk most.
Sans missed the burning warmth of whisky. Old Fashioned. The way Grillby did it.
He started locking his bedroom door again.
They all met up for dinner occasionally, when Alphys wasn't busy with, "oh, y-you know, Mettaton—uh—upgrades… (his fans sure are c-creative… heh…)", and when Undyne could spare a moment from her "absolutely ultimate-ultra-mega-super-secret training".
But it was mostly on principle. No matter what they ate (some form of pasta, usually), Sans could never keep it down for long.
He thought about finding Frisk, but…
No. They knew where crummy Pseudo-Snowdin was. If they missed him, they would come back.
They didn't.
It had been three years since the barrier was broken. Sans had all the bars in the surface world to drink himself numb at, but he still chose Grillby's.
He pretended he didn't see the others down there from time to time, too.
It was fine.
