The bubbles encased in the steel pot on the stove whir soothingly away from underneath the lid. Nobody moves to remove the lid. It continues to bubble, ignored. They all have far too many things on their minds to give any real notice to their surroundings. He should be coming home, any minute now. The brothers continue to sit in silence, oblivious to everything in the room aside from the door. The pot of canned pasta continues to bubble incessantly. The taller of the brothers finally rises up, pushing back his wooden chair with a noisy creak against the floorboards, to pick up the lid. Sans grabs his arm in a firm grasp with his bony fingers. Papyrus stops in his tracks to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Leave it," is all Sans says. Papyrus sits back down at the table.
Suddenly they hear the lock turn on the front door out in the hall. It is time for the moment of truth. The brothers look into each others' hollow each in a mute inquiry of who should go up and get the door. After about a minute of hard stares, Sans nods. A hard knock echoes throughout the empty house. It seems they forgot to unlock the door. Both brothers' head spin toward the direction of the door in the main room. But have they decided who should go over and answer it? They gaze at it for a little while from the kitchen den through the archway. Then they quickly look back at each other, as if going back on their previous agreement of door-greeting arrangements. They never really knew what to do when he finally knocks on the door. Only Sans does. Deep down, he's always known that he has to be the one to face him, to face them, both of them, and all of them when the time finally comes. It doesn't take another louder and more startling rapping on the wooden door for him to come to this conclusion. "Sans, no!" Papyrus almost cries out as his older brother stands up out of his chair.
Sans ignores him and makes his way toward the door. The pot begins to sizzle but no one pays it any mind. Papyrus watches in quiet anticipation as Sans answers the door. The bones in his brother's hand clink together as he wraps it around the knob. He takes yet another pause, knowing full well that Papyrus studies him closely. He dreads what lies beyond that door, on the outside world. It is only now that he realizes Toriel's fear of the outside and her tendency to stay forever a homebody along with why she made him promise not to kill anyone who dared to venture outside her own home. Still, he knows he cannot stall this event any longer than he already has. The loud pounding comes a third more insistent time and the stout skeleton yanks open the door to reveal the sight they both wished futilely would not be at their doorstep. But there he stands in the bone with all his glory. What a sight for sore eyes, Sans thinks. And it really does take him back, with his existence-defying, cracked, puppet skull and billowing abyss of blackness around him which Sans could never tell was a cape or a void of smoke. He stares down at him with soulless, black eyes and he glares back, the blue fire in one eye glowing as bright as the yellow fire in the other. Suddenly Papyrus's voice screams out, "SANS GET AWAY FROM THERE!" In the moment it comes out of his mouth he knows that it was a mistake. But what else could he do? Sans is in trouble and as his caretaker, he can't just sit back and watch as the strange puppet ghost takes him away. Too bad that is exactly what happens right after his sudden outburst. Sans glances back to give him a death stare but a pair of dark, slimy gloves grab him roughly by the arms. "SANS NO!" Papyrus shrieks out and tears away from the table. Sans jerks away from Gaster's grip but not all the way out of it. This yanks him into the house, especially with the taller skeleton jumping up and rushing toward the quarreling two before grabbing hold of Sans's other arm and pulling hard. The spaghetti sauce has now bubbled over the edge of the pot and leaked through the lid.
The tussling skeletons move into the house and deeper back into the kitchen where the spaghetti sauce sizzles in large droplets on the stove. "Son..," the words are barely audible and Sans does not think that he even hears them. "It's time to go. Sans, we must go now." He feels the bones in his fingers through both his glove and his own hoodie's sleeve. No matter how much he tries to resist, Gaster holds on all the more tight. The small group finally stumbles into the kitchen unknowingly. Sans remembers specifically telling Papyrus not to boil spaghetti-os in the first place. Unfortunately, what's done is done. Gaster can't undo the past. He can create a new expanse of time completely, or he can just no longer be a part of it.
In the turmoil, no one notices that one of them knocks over the pot and the lid flies off. The pot tips, causing the sauce to slosh out into the air before there is any chance of it simmering down. It splatters all over the back of Pap's exposed neck and stains his cape. He lets out a yelp of pain and weakens his grip. Gaster uses this as an opportunity to drag Sans back out the doorway and into the night. The brothers scream each others' names before Gaster and Sans disappear completely, leaving Papyrus to sink to the ground and rub the burnt spot on his neck, deaf to the silence of the empty pot.