A/N: This is set during Chapter Twelve of The World, Upside Down. It's Papyrus's POV of his encounter with Data!Frisk.

Papyrus called himself Great not for nothing. He was the undisputed champion of rhythm games, the master of the greatest car in the world, the crusader of internet trolls. He could roust his brother from his bed even at his most tiring moments, the one Toriel called her most enthusiastic student.

(He'd always known he was the greatest. But sometimes, it seemed a little like he wasn't the greatest best friend. Like the night Mettaton found Frisk, when he shoved Papyrus into his dressing room with Frisk under strict orders not to let the human escape into the ether again. They'd sat smashed up against each other on the too small loveseat someone dared call a couch, their head laid on his shoulder, patting his arm. "You're the best, Papyrus. You were always my favorite."

He felt guilty, but it seemed to him that surely Toriel or Asgore or even Undyne were probably far more likely candidates for their favorite person. After all, if he was really so great, if he was really their best friend, why didn't it seem enough to make them call him even once in the entire year since they'd vanished?)

Another thing he was very great at was snail hunting; Toriel had said so. It was an underrated talent in his opinion, one only Frisk and Toriel ever seemed to show much interest in. But then, Toriel was the one who'd taught him and Frisk, so he wasn't sure she counted.

But Frisk cared. That was important enough. It was just—why? Why couldn't Frisk be there to join him in hunting? Frisk was always fun to go snail hunting with—they were quiet and patient, but forever ready to listen to whatever he thought to say to them. The hunts were lonelier without them there.

Which is why he nearly dropped his bucket in glee when he found them crouching down by the fence. They were facing Toriel's home, looking deep into the grass of the meadow between the house and the woods. His first wild thought was that Toriel had sent them out here to join him in snail hunting, although he dismissed it quickly enough—obviously, Frisk would have come straight to him if they were coming to join him. All the same, he had to be sure this wasn't some mirage conjured by his lonely mood—carefully, he set his bucket of snails aside and straightened again.

"Human?" he called; he watched them pause before turning to look at him. Seeing their familiar face, he couldn't help but beam. "Human! It is you! Oh, Frisk, you came home! And on time!"

He didn't mean to add that last part; he didn't want them to know that he'd often paused to worry over the weekend that maybe come Monday they wouldn't be back. That he'd have to wait another year to see his dear friend again. What if they had discarded their phone again? What if they just never answered it?

But then Frisk stood and Papyrus forgot his worries in his rush to wrap his arms around their shoulders. They gripped back, just as tight—Papyrus was great, but when it came to hugs, sometimes he wondered if Frisk might be a little better. He wouldn't mind if they were; after all, they were always happy to share their hugs with him. "Papyrus. It's you."

Well, what a silly thing to say! He laughed and pulled back so he could look them in their face. Was it just him, or did they look awful tired around their eyes? Perhaps their hike had worn them out—perhaps they were going to reconsider going away on these trips of theirs. "Of course it's me, silly human! Who else would it be? Truly, is there anyone half as great as I who could even begin to pretend to be me?"

They laughed and some of that tired edge fell from their face. Good; his friend should never look worn down. "No, no way. You're one in a million."

It was a sentiment his brother had said before, but it felt good to hear coming from someone else. "I'm glad you agree!" But still, there was something nagging him. "But, Frisk, what are you doing out here?"

"I, uh, just got back." They blinked. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh!" he gasped, before remembering his snails and grinning mischievously. Finally, someone to appreciate the hard work he'd put in today! "Well, wait just a moment, Frisk, and you shall see! Nyeheheh," he giggled, turning around. Quickly, he turned back and held up the bucket to show off his haul. "Behold! I have gone snail hunting! Feast your eyes on the incredible variety I have found just within the woods here!"

Frisk was all grins as they peered in. Sure, he knew most were duplicates and that Frisk would know that, but every single snail inside was a special masterpiece. Each shell was different and wonderful and he knew Frisk would understand that. "They look great, Papyrus. Are they for mom?"

"Nyeheh! Yes, your mother did ask for them. She said I could keep the shells when she's done," he added brightly.

They looked in and smiled at his gatherings. He knew they would approve! "My, you must have quite the collection by now."

"This will make over three hundred!" He beamed, stooping to set his bucket down again. Something caught his eye as he bent and he paused to look up. Looking up, he felt himself freeze and the bucket slipped from his fingers. He gasped and grabbed their hand, pulling it closer so he could see the awful hole in their hand. Something about it seemed… he wasn't sure. He decided on troubling. "Oh, Frisk! What has happened to your hand? Are you injured?"

Poor Frisk; he thought for a moment that they would go faint on him, but then they smiled and he allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief. "Oh, no, it's okay, Papyrus. I, um, I had a little accident. A monster, they, um. Anyway, it's only temporary. Don't worry about it."

"Temporary?" He blinked at them, still clutching their hand. "Humans can heal from this amount of damage?"

They smiled, the faint look finally leaving their face. "Oh, my hand isn't damaged. It's just a little spell. Don't worry, I'll be fine in no time."

This sounded suspiciously like something his brother might say when he wasn't feeling the best. In fact, the more he thought about, the more Sans-like he realized Frisk was acting. It wasn't a comforting thought. Still, he didn't want to say that to them; what if he upset them? Instead, he squeezed their hand. "If… if you insist, human. You're sure you're alright though?"

Their smile looked so warm, it made some of his fear vanish. "I'm sure. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."

For a second, he wondered if this was the moment he'd been waiting for, although he hadn't known he was waiting for it. He wondered if he should admit to them how much they had worried him—worried him for their hand, for all those times they went away with barely a warning. About the time they had left without warning, about the year he'd spent besides himself with worry while Sans, Toriel, Asgore, and even Undyne and Alphys had all waited for Frisk to return. Then the moment passed and he decided that he didn't want to ruin the mood they were sharing. This was a happy moment after all—Frisk was home! That was the important thing. "Worry not, because the Great Papyrus never worries!" He paused, feeling a touch guilty. "Well, I might over think things a little, but that is only because I have a great mind that likes to ponder possibilities."

They grinned. "That's the truth."

"Nyheheh! Yes, it surely is! Now, shall we go up to the house? Your mother will be so excited to see that you are home now!"

Their smile faltered for a moment, but then it returned in full force. "Okay, I'll be there in just a minute. I just, um, wanted to get a little fresh air to myself before I go inside. Country air is great, isn't it?"

He nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, it certainly is the best! As much as I like driving down the city streets for all to look upon my greatness, nothing truly beats the country atmosphere! But," he paused, voice softening. "Are you sure you don't come in with me yet? Lady Toriel will be so happy. Even Sans, I'm sure, will be happy to see you!"

Their expression changed, but then they were looking down before he could figure out what had prompted the shift. "Papyrus, your snails are escaping."

"What?! Oh, no! Quick, Frisk, help me catch them!"

The two quickly bent down and began to grab all the wayward snails and put them back in the bucket. Once they had them all, Frisk stood as Papyrus straightened. "That looks like all of them. You better get them in to mom fast before they try to escape again."

"I will! No slippery snail shall escape me this time," he paused. "You won't be long?"

"Promise. I'll meet you there in a bit, okay?"

If he had a stomach, it would have clenched. They weren't planning to sneak away again, were they? Surely, they wouldn't, not so soon—would they? He forced himself to nod before they could see the doubt in his face. He never wanted them to see that; after all, he had to support them, even if they did baffling things like disappear and worry him half to death. Before his face betrayed him, he started to walk away.

He didn't get far before he suddenly felt Frisk's arms around his neck. He blinked down at them. "Human?"

They shook their head against his shoulder. "Sorry, I… I'm just so glad to see you. I missed you."

He pulled one of his arms free to wrap around them, tugging them closer. Whatever had prompted this, he didn't mind. At least when he had Frisk at his side, it meant they wouldn't vanish on him. "I missed you too, Frisk. May… maybe you will consider staying home for now? It's never the same when you're gone." There, that was gentle enough, wasn't it? It wouldn't sound like nagging, would it?

But then Frisk didn't answer.

Had he overstepped? He frowned, mentally kicking himself for doing exactly what he hoped he wouldn't do. "Frisk?"

Thankfully, they didn't leave him in the lurch for long. "Oh, sorry. I, um. Sorry. Got lost for a second there."

He frowned at them; this was odd. But maybe it wasn't that he'd hurt them—what if it was something else? "Are you sure you're alright? Why don't you come inside and get a glass of water? You might be getting heatstroke out here!"

Undyne got heatstroke easily—it made her act funny too.

But then they smiled and his at least that worry went away. "No, no. I'm fine. I just need a few minutes to gather myself. You go head on in. We'll talk in a bit, okay?"

Reluctantly, he nodded. "Alright, Frisk. But I'm expecting you to come in no less than three minutes! That's more than enough time to get fresh air, even if it is good country air, okay?"

"Okay, Papyrus. Just go on ahead."

"Talk to you a few minutes, human," he said; he wished he could just flat out make them promise, but he thought that might be a step too far. But then they sent him their warm smile, the one that promised it would all be alright. For a moment, the worry in his heart quieted and he found himself turning away. Still, as he went, a little niggling thought told him to go faster—if he left faster, it might make Frisk hurry up to join him again.

He was nearly jogging by the time he reached the house. He slid the glass door open without pausing to realize that people were talking inside. When he looked up, he nearly dropped his bucket again.

Frisk, who'd been leaning against the table, brightened at the sight of him. "Papyrus!" Then they were tossing their arms around his neck, nearly squashing the bucket of snails between them, and the skeleton was very, very confused.

Toriel only laughed. "I was just telling Frisk that you should be coming back at any moment."

Papyrus frowned. "Frisk, how did you beat me back to the house?"

Frisk froze and Toriel frowned at him; after a moment, Frisk pulled back to stare at him. "What? Papyrus, I just got back. I literally just pulled in the drive and came in to talk to mom. It was the first thing I did."

"But," he began, clutching his bucket. "But we were just talking! We talked about the snails I caught and then—your hand!" He nearly tossed his bucket at the table and scrambled to grab their hand; they looked baffled but let him study their hand. It was, however, unremarkably whole and well, as was the other. "Do… do humans really recover that quickly from wounds like that?"

Their face was doing funny expressions as it scrunched up, but he felt no amusement. "Papyrus, my hands are fine. What would be wrong with my hands?"

"There was a hole in them!" he retorted, letting go. What was going on? When would it all make sense?

"Whose hands have holes?"

Papyrus and Frisk both jumped and turned to look at the kitchen's doorway. Sans was leaning in, but he hardly seemed to notice that Frisk was there at all. Instead, he was focused in on his brother. Papyrus huffed. "Frisk did, but now it's gone!"

Sans blinked and his serious expression receded. "Frisk had a hole in their hand?" For a moment, his gaze slid past Papyrus to the human. There was that moment again, like brittle glass—it always happened, just for a moment, whenever Frisk and Sans met again. Despite his or Toriel's questions, Sans never explained what prompted the odd moments and Frisk was just as evasive. Sometimes his brother and his friend were annoyingly alike. Then Sans cleared his throat and the moment was gone. "Don't look like they have a hole now."

"But they did," Papyrus insisted. Why did no one believe him? "Frisk, how on earth did you get it to go away so fast?"

Frisk frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about, Papyrus, I'm sorry."

Toriel sighed and reached for him. "My dear, maybe you got too much sun. Why don't you come sit at the table and I'll-"

Now Toriel was treating him like a baby. Papyrus loved his sister-in-law, but he hated people treating him like a baby. He yanked away from her, his hand swinging out and knocking the bucket over. Snails spilled across the dinner table, but he didn't care. "I did not get too much sun and I was not seeing things!"

Toriel winced. "Papyrus, I didn't mean to imply that you were seeing things."

Papyrus, dignity still stinging, took a deep breath. "And," he added, chest tight. "And you can't hug mirages! So I know that the Frisk I met out there wasn't a fake!" He paused, glancing to the Frisk next to him. "I saw you—you were wearing those clothes you are right now and-" He paused, blinking. "Except, they looked kinda shabby." He frowned; now that he thought about it, that wasn't the only thing off about that other Frisk. "And you were all messy. And you—um, I'm sorry to say something mean, but you smelled like you hadn't bathed in a couple days."

Frisk blinked at him before turning to Toriel. "What if it was a prowler?"

The moment the notion was on the table, quickly the room was galvanized to action. Someone called Undyne and the police to search the woods and then Papyrus had to repeat the whole conversation again and again. In the end, it was decided that if it was a prowler, Papyrus had probably scared them off when he caught them.

But that night, as he lay in bed, staring up at the stars stuck on his ceiling, he thought back to that other Frisk again. He was certain that they were real and that they'd really been Frisk—they knew him too well to just be some stranger, been too kind to be a fake.

But more than anything, the more he thought it over, the more he was certain. The other Frisk hadn't just been distracted. There was something more to their behavior.

The other Frisk was sad and lonely. He knew it in every inch of his bones. Maybe the Frisk had been staring in at the house because they had wanted to join in too. Maybe that's why they were so happy to see him, but distracted too. Maybe that Frisk understood how much it hurt to not have the ones you cherish near.

Wherever that other Frisk had gone, he hoped they were somewhere that made them happy. Somewhere with friends and people who loved them. Gazing at the stars glowing up at the ceiling, Papyrus counted them out, closed his eyes, and wished.

Be happy, Frisk. Be happy.

A/N: A user on AO3, ClearAsMyst asked to see Papyrus's thoughts during his scene with Data!Frisk. Here we get to see a little bit of the fallout from when Frisk ran away for a year; he doesn't come flat out and say it in this, but Papyrus thinks of himself as Frisk's older brother, so he took their leaving awful hard. Poor Papyrus.

I still have three chapters finished for this story, about three started, and a few more after that. If you have any requests for stories set in this world, shoot them past me and I'll see what I can do!

Geust: Sorry about the delay on the Alphys/Undyne story. It's one I have started though; I was even working on it last night. That one might take me a while though, since I initially planned on it be one of the longer ones. If worse comes to worse, I might break it up in several parts and just post the parts I have to make a sort of mini-series inside this fic. Hopefully, it won't come to that. As for Fell!Chara, they're very fun to write! They act a bit stiffer than everyone else, so they put a put a fun twist on the group's dynamic. And for my Frisk/Sans, I'm glad you like my version, even if you hated the ship itself. I myself have been turned around on pairings before because of some fics I read, so I've been in that boat before. Thank you for reviewing, it's always a delight to hear from you.