It's a little past two AM when Sans feels hears the soft sound of footsteps outside his door. He knows this, because when the footfalls stop before his door, he peeks at the clock, where the numbers flash brightly in the otherwise dark room. He shifts, burying his face back in his pillow and pretending to sleep.
The door creaks open, slowly, and the child moves out of the hallway into the room. There is a brief moment of hesitation, before they move toward the bed. He could practically feel the determination rolling off of them.
Frisk stops at his bedside. He hears them breathe softly, and then a hand rested on his bony shoulder. The hand nudges him once, and then once more, with more force, when he doesn't immediately react.
He shifts and the hand is immediately gone, and he pushes himself up. Sans gives an exaggerated yawn, and then turns to Frisk. They stare up at him, which is not usually how they present himself - he is much more used to a shyer Frisk who avoids his eyes and plays with lose threads on their striped onesie pajamas.
"Another nightmare?" he asks, anyways, because thats the only time Frisk ever comes to him. Toriel and Asgore, and even Papyrus at times, tend to better at handling everything else, and he lets them. He's already scooted over, making room for the human, when they shake their head and step away from the bed. He flicks the light on his bed side table, illuminating the mess of his room. Frisk immediately signs,
"Come with me!" and beckons for Sans to follow them. He heaves a half hearted sigh, and swings his legs out over the side of his bed. It wasn't as though he was getting any sleep anyways. Frisk smiles, ever so slightly. They look tired, as if they were forcing themselves to be awake, and slip their hand into Sans'. Body fingers intertwine with flesh ones, and he's being tugged out of his bedroom, down the stairs and out the door. They pause only to get dressed up for the weather. Frisk rolls their eyes at him for making sure they're bundled up properly, but he wasn't risking Toriel's rage if Frisk got sick. Frisk slings a backpack over their shoulders, and then drags Sans' into the night.
The night is chilly, but Sans is bone and he barely feels it. If nothing else, it reminds him of Snowdin Town. It's different for Frisk, who clomps along in front of him in heavy boots, leading him through the winding streets. Frisk is flesh and blood, and the cold nips at their cheeks, turning them pink. Frisk doesn't seem to care though, too determined to led the cold get to them.
The moon is bright, and the sky is clear. Sans occasionally lets his gaze drift to the twinkling stars as they move along, and only gives Frisk his full attention when they near the city's edge.
"Where're we goin', Kid?" Sans finally asks, eying the forest on the outskirts of the town wearily. Frisk has dropped down in the snow, rummaging through their backpack and pulling out a bulky item. They flick it on and force it into Sans' hand, then readjusts the backpack.
"You'll see," they finally answer, and Sans wonder's if he's going to regret this. He doesn't seem to have much of a choice though, because Frisk is already pulling him along once more. He trusts the kid, but he can't help the unease that settles over him as they begin the hike up Mt. Abbott. It reminds him of years trapped beneath the surface, of resets and death and helplessness. Frisk knows this - every monster dislikes this place, every monster remembers the pain of being held captive by inescapable magic. But Frisk presses onwards, dragging Sans along, until they reach a ledge, and its all too familiar to the both of them.
Sans stares in the passageway, where the barrier used to glow. Now it was nothing more than an empty tunnel, and the light from his flashlight meets dull stone. It's nothing impressive, and Sans is glad it's no longer considered home.
"So, what're we doing…?" He tears his eyes away from the tunnel, and his words immediately die in his throat.
Frisk is grinning, standing proudly next to a brand new telescope. It was nothing like the ones he'd find in the underground, but then… with this one, he'd be able to look at actual, real stars. He stares at it, then back at Frisk, and then back at the telescope once more.
Then Frisk signs, "Happy birthday. It's from everyone."
Being hugged by a skeleton probably isn't the most comfortable thing, but Frisk doesn't seem to mind, and they hug him back just as happily. He laughs as he withdraws from the hug and then, "You do know my birthday is next week though, right?"
Frisk rolls their eyes and huffs, then nods. "You weren't supposed to see till next week," the admitted. "But… just look, okay?"
Sans doesn't hesitate, and instead steps forward and peeks through the telescope. He immediately begins to adjust the dials, fiddling until the stars swam into view. And hell, if he had any breath to take, this view would have done it, alright. He stares for a solid minute, seemingly entranced by the sights. It's beautiful, but nothing that couldn't wait another week. He begins to pull away, hesitantly, to tell Frisk that, when something shoots across his line of vision.
He pauses, wondering if he imagined it, and adjusted the lens to allow him to see more of the sky. He is immediately greeted by the sight of another meteor, or as the human's called them, "falling stars."
"It's incredible," he mutters, because for once in his life, Sans is at a loss for words. After a moment he adds, "absolutely stellar."
Frisk giggled next to him, and he tore his gaze away to look at them. Frisk had made themselves comfortable, curled up in a blanket and leaning against the rocky wall. They nursed a thermos of some warm liquid - hot chocolate, maybe? (The kid really did come prepared.) They waved their hand dismissively at him though, and he took it as a sign that he could return to his stargazing, which he did without a second thought.
And thats how they remained. Sans tinkering with the device, and Frisk watching him contently. The stars fell like time passed, and Sans was all too taken with their magic to notice that an hour had passed. When Sans finally did look up again, Frisk had fallen asleep against the rock, pulling the blankets tightly around their body.
Sans chuckled, and got to work packing up their things. The thermos was empty, and smelled faintly of chocolate, so he was probably correct in his earlier assumption. He threw it in the backpack, zipped it up, and slung it over his shoulder. Then he carefully leaned over, tucking his bony arms beneath the blanket and lifting them up. It wasn't hard - despite Frisk being nearly as tall as Sans, they were still light as a feather.
The movement jostled them, and Frisk's eyes opened a crack to peer tiredly at Sans. They seemed to be too tired to put up any resistance, and when told to go back to sleep, simply settled in Sans' arms, resting their face in the crook of his collar. In their more relaxed state they whispered, so quietly Sans barely caught it, "did you like it?"
"I loved it," Sans insists honestly. "Siriusly."
Frisk gives a tired snort of laughter, and drifts off into sleep again. It doesn't last long, because the light of the street lamps greets them once they hit the city, and try as the may to pull the blanket over their face, it does little to block out the light. Still, they manage to reach the house and slip quietly inside before Sans puts Frisk back on their feet. The stumble, yawn, and rub the sleep out of their eyes and then grin at Sans, putting their finger over their lips.
Frisk kicks off their boots as quietly as one could, shrugs out of their jacket. They somehow make it down the hallway without getting caught, which could be considered a miracle with Toriel living under this roof. Sans is about to say goodnight, but Frisk quickly signs for him to wait. He stops, glancing at them curiously.
"How do you organize a space party?" They sign, a small smile playing on their lips. Sans gives a big grin back, and asks them how, exactly, one organizes a space party. "They planet. So if anyone asks, I didn't spoil the surprise."
"You got it, Kiddo," Sans snorts in laughter, quietly, and reaches out to ruffle Frisk's hair. Frisk just grins unwaveringly, smoothes their hair down and then signs good night to him, even though by this point it's closer to morning. They slip into their room and just as the door clicks shut, Sans' murmurs, "Thank you."