"hey, kid. what'cha up to?" Sans approached Frisk, who appeared to be poking at a sheet of paper with a peculiarly shaped stick. A copy of "Peekaboo with Fluffy Bunny" was open on the table in front of them.
Through signing with their hands, Frisk told him that the sky was, in fact, up, while they explained what they were doing in plain English. "I'm transcribing Fluffy Bunny into braille." They realized that Sans might not know what that meant. "It's sort of like how I sometimes use my hands to speak," they said, demonstrating, "except it's for people who can't see."
Sans' grin stayed where it was and he said "that sounds... braille-ient."
The child who occasionally spoke in hands signed with a gesture that needed no translation. By slapping their own face with an open palm.
.
Frisk was gently whisking together some sort of white, sticky substance in a large metal bowl. They wore a pink apron with the words "I cook so well, even skeletons get up to eat my food" written on it in cute, handmade embroidery.
Sans saw them, and peered at a cookbook on a nearby counter. Egg whites, sugar, lemon... he recognized the recipe.
"making a pie, kiddo?" he asked, somewhat redundantly.
Their hands busy, Frisk merely replied with a "mhm" as they continued to try to keep their mixture perfect.
"want any help with that?" Sans offered, pretty sure Frisk didn't need any.
They shook their head.
Sans leaned on the counter. "okay. tell me when you put it in the oven. i bet it's gonna smell meringue-nificent."
Frisk giggled, almost dropping the bowl.
.
Frisk beckoned Sans over to their laptop, where they were browsing comics. Sans read the first one he saw, grinning. It was an old Batman comic, and Mr. Freeze was the villain of the week, shooting freezing rays from a gun and ordering the hero to chill out. Frisk scrolled to the next page, where the caped crusader's sidekick informed the villain that they would put him on ice.
Sans had heard these puns before from Snowdrake, but belived that good puns were their own reword. He ruffled the kid's hair, earning a hands-only message to stop.
"punderful," he said with a grin.
.
"isn't it a bit too chili out to be dressed like that?" asked Sans, pointing at a plant laden with spicy red peppers. They were in a greenhouse, and Frisk wore some simple gardening clothes with a flower-brimmed straw hat. They held a watering can and a trowel, in full gardening stereotype. Sans himself was wearing his usual outfit, as if the greenhouse were not temperature controlled to imitate a mild summer's day.
Frisk gave a polite giggle as they watered the plants.
"Oh geez, Sans' here," complained a voice from the other end of the greenhouse.
"I really don't get why you hate me so much, Flowey," he lied, having a pretty clear idea of what that flower might have had him do in another timeline, "or why Frisk keeps you around."
"Just saying," said Flowey, "I wish you'd make like one of my cousins over there and leaf."
Timelines or not, Sans would have high-fived that flower if he could.
A/N: I wrote this on my phone to see if I could. My phone is an ass, and I will not be working with it again.