The world was spinning, and Sans realized a little too late that he hadn't ate anything yet. He had been restless and irritable all day, and instead of forcing his brother to deal with his sour mood, he'd shuffled down to the bar instead. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to get wasted.
Either way, the first shot had him buzzed, and the second, outright drunk. He had ordered a third shot anyway. Getting drunk never really made him feel better, exactly, but it was nice to numb himself to the harsh reality of constant resets and bad timelines. Most nights, he fought the urge to completely lose himself in alcohol, not wanting to burden Papyrus with his misery.
But tonight wasn't like most nights. The human child had reset again, bringing Papyrus back from the dead. They hadn't killed anyone else. Just Papyrus. God knows what he had done to deserve that.
He should have been celebrating, or at least relieved. He ordered another shot instead. He was so tired of a child having so much control over his life, even if indirectly. The shot came, and he tossed it back immediately. What did it matter if Papyrus had to drag him back home? Eventually, the human would reset and he wouldn't even remember being worried and upset.
He started seeing double, and he tried to order another shot, but Grillby shook his head no. He wanted to be angry, but he just laughed instead, humorless and drunk.
He didn't even realize he had fallen asleep at the counter until he woke up and found himself being carried home by Papyrus. He pretended to still be asleep and tried to remember how many resets ago he had let himself get this drunk. He could already feel the hangover setting in.
He was being selfish, forcing his brother to carry him home, but he didn't care. He was too damn tired. Papyrus was silent the entire walk home. He unlocked the door awkwardly with only one hand, the other supporting Sans, an irritated huff slipping out when he dropped the key.
He should have pretended to wake up then, but he didn't. Papyrus struggled to retrieve the key while being as silent as possible, and it probably should have made Sans feel guilty, but it didn't matter. The human would eventually reset everything, and Papyrus would have no memory of this night.
In one timeline, he had told Papyrus everything. It had been a terrible mistake. Papyrus was more perceptive than he let on; when he finally grasped the exact reality of the resets, he had gasped and clamped his hand over his mouth. It had all fallen into place for him, then, why Sans never did anything.
Of course, everything reset two days after that, and he forgot all about it. Sans never told him again. There was no reason to. Papyrus had pretended the concept of unending resets and absolute futility didn't bother him, but Sans saw right through him.
He almost fell asleep again as Papyrus carried him up the stairs. It wasn't until Papyrus passed his own bedroom that Sans realized he wasn't just going to dump him on the couch. Nope. Apparently, he was going to brave the world of trash that was his bedroom. He didn't know what for. It wasn't like he deserved anything better than being dumped on the porch or living room floor.
Papyrus made a small pained noise when he turned on the light, probably surprised and disgusted by exactly how dirty the room really was. Sans didn't usually let his brother in here - it was easier to shrug off his concerns when he could claim the room was cleaner than it actually was.
Papyrus took care to set him on the mattress gently. Something about that pissed him off, he decided. Not at Papyrus. Never at Papyrus. Anger bubbled in his soul, directed at himself as always.
"Goodnight, Sans," Papyrus said quietly before he turned off the light and left.
He fell asleep almost right away.
As he expected, he woke with a hardcore hangover. If skeletons could hurl, he probably would be. What was unexpected was waking on his own, and not from Papyrus banging on the door urging him to get up. He must have taken pity on him today.
God, his head hurt. As much as he wanted to go back to sleep, he forced himself up. It was time to do damage control. Not that it really mattered. Even if they didn't make an appearance, that human was very fond of their resets. Sometimes they waited months to reset, though.
In one timeline, Sans hadn't bothered to take care of their relationship, letting it decay by just plain not giving a shit. He shuddered at the memories. After that, he had vowed to himself that he'd never hurt Papyrus with his own self destruction again.
The stairs were a bitch and a half to navigate, but he eventually managed to shamble down to the kitchen. The house was suspiciously quiet and dark.
The fridge had a note taped to it. " Out working on puzzles. There's spaghetti in the fridge. Please eat it instead of getting junk food," it read. Sans frowned, as much as his face would let him. This wasn't the kind of note Papyrus would usually leave. It wasn't like Papyrus to leave him alone the morning after binge drinking, either.
Fuck. When had the human last reset, and just how much had he let his indifference hurt Papyrus this time around?
The spaghetti was terrible, as usual. He forced himself to eat as much as he could anyway. He ended up being able to eat half before he felt too full and sick.
And then - well, then he dumped his worthless ass on their uncomfortable couch and watched game show reruns.
He tried to remember if he was supposed to work today. Not that it mattered. Nothing had ever mattered. God, he was so sick of it.
He must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knew he was waking up, Papyrus sitting next to him, gaze fixed on the TV ahead of them. A blanket that hadn't been there this morning was resting on top of him. Sans yawned, making his brother yawn in turn.
"Feeling any better?" Papyrus asked, containing his voice to a regular conversation level instead of yelling.
Something about that made him feel bad.
He waved a hand and made a non commital grunt. "Probably."
Papyrus didn't get irritated easily, not for real, but Sans could see that he was forcing himself to keep calm and act nonchalant.
"What does 'probably' mean?" He asked, too calm.
Come on, bro, I really don't feel like doing this again. "I feel great," he lied, feeling like a jackass as soon as the words left him.
Papyrus sighed, and it made Sans's soul ache. "I know you're lying," he said, reaching for the remote and muting the TV.
Sans had to look away. "I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled into his lap.
"You never do."
The words pierced his soul like - he didn't know what it was like. It reminded him of the worst timelines, where his brother was already dead and he stood his ground in the judgement hall, the child swinging a knife at him, his entire body tired and aching from dodging.
"Sans?"
His mind snapped to the present. He'd let himself zone out, dissociate. He groaned, bringing his hand to his face. The hangover seemed to come back full force. It made him feel dizzy.
"Uh, sorry," he managed.
"Sans," Papyrus said, soft, distantly sad, and entirely unlike him.
"I'm so tired, Papyrus," he said, despite himself. Even if the human reset tomorrow, he shouldn't have burdened his brother like this. He couldn't stop himself. It was like he was still drunk, even though his head was swimming with pain instead of alcohol.
"Tired of what?" Papyrus ventured, voice low, as if he were scared of the answer. Maybe he was scared of the question.
As much as he didn't want to, Sans lifted his hand to wave at reality in general. "All of it," he said, regretting the words instantly.
Papyrus gasped.
"It's- I'm not-" He stopped. Took a breath. He could feel Papyrus staring at him. "Don't worry about it. I wouldn't do anything…" he paused. "-permanent," he said, carefully avoiding looking up. He was pretty sure it was another lie. He probably threw himself into the core's magma at least once. Maybe twice.
He almost flinched when Papyrus jumped out of his position on the couch and threw his arms around him. Papyrus made a choked sound.
"Sans," he whispered, voice strained. He sounded close to tears.
God, that hurt more than his actual situation and hangover combined. He was so selfish, being weak like this.
He patted his brother - awkwardly, weakly, dumbly - on the spine. "Please don't cry, man…"
A surge of guilt wracked him. He was supposed to be the strong one, the one to comfort and protect the other.
Papyrus didn't say anything; he just hugged Sans tighter, and that made everything worse.
He hadn't cried in - it was a long time. But tears were pooling at his eye sockets anyway.
"No one understands what this is like," he muttered, more to himself than his brother. God, he was being so selfish.
Papyrus didn't respond. He just hugged Sans even tighter, as if he were afraid his brother would float away without someone to hang on to him.
"Nothing I do matters, Papyrus," he said, hating himself more with every word that came out of his stupid face. He sucked in a breath and let out a sob.
I hope that little demon resets soon.
"Hey," Papyrus said.
Sans waited.
"I love you, Sans," he said.
They were siblings; sibling love for them, as usual, manifested in snark and petty arguments. This - this hurt.
"Fuck," he mumbled. "I love you too, bro."