Around fifteen minutes into pasta prep, Sans showed back up and crammed a navy blue sweatshirt over Frisk's head.

They stopped what they were doing to consider the situation. It took Papyrus a few more seconds to notice the interruption, at which point he dropped the bag of noodles he'd been handling into the pot resting on the stovetop. The water inside slopped over the edge, hissing when it met the burner, but it was tepid and that was the only damage it caused.

His previous endeavor forgotten, Papyrus tugged the hood of the shirt over Frisk's head. They blinked at him, murmured a thank you, and attempted to solve the rest of the problem themselves.

Absolved of freeing the child, he turned a glare to Sans- half accusing, half legitimately confused.

"Now it's a win-win situation. Any sauce's gonna get on the shirt- keeps the dress clean and helps me get a head start on tomato stains."

"..how so?"

"I've got an image to keep. Who's gonna take me seriously with a clean jacket?" He held out an arm to display one of the discolored splotches decorating the sleeve. "Help a verte-bruh out, will ya?"

Frisk didn't answer, too busy wiggling around trying to figure out where their arms were. Papyrus took it upon himself to help by chasing Sans out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon that had been laying on the counter.

He came back thirty seconds later, looking pleased with himself, and went on as though nothing had happened.

By that point, Frisk had managed to squirm their way into the shirt with all appendages where they belonged, though their fingertips barely poked out of the sleeves. They bunched them up, but they fell right back down since Frisk's arms lacked the substance needed to keep them in place.

Papyrus stopped frowning at the bag of noodles in the pot long enough to spare them a glance and, without a second thought, handed them his makeshift special attack so he could roll the sleeves up for them.

Automatically, they took the spoon.

The handle was shaped like a bone.

They shouldn't have been surprised.

After a minute, he stood back up and announced, "I hope you're ready, because we're about to try something groundbreaking! I've been saving this pasta for something special- impressing the queen sounds perfect!"

In one fluid movement, Papyrus rescued the plastic bag from the rapidly heating water, shook it off, and presented it to Frisk. "These are called fiori- they're little flowers! I, ah, don't know how you're supposed to use them, but I'm sure we'll figure something out. Especially using Undyne's methods."

Something in their expression must have tipped him off, because the next thing he said was, "Fear not, Frisk- the great Papyrus is entirely fireproof."

For half a second, they wondered how he knew that. It didn't take long for the thought to come full-circle and land at Undyne's charred doorstep.

They also wondered if that fire had ever gone out. Somehow, they doubted it.

At least the ingredients laid out suggested that they were making glorified spaghetti. While Frisk was still inclined to think of it as a threat, Sans had been right: a year had done wonders for Papyrus' cooking. When they'd choked on the pasta the previous night, it had been because they hadn't known what they were doing and not solely because of the taste.

As long as nobody planned on deviating from the recipe, things were probably going to be okay.

Probably.

Just to be safe, they kept a close eye socket on the burner. And the knives. And Papyrus.

Not for the first time, Frisk realized they had some issues to work out once the current problems were put to rest.

They tuned back in to find that Papyrus was doing something on the counter and boosted themselves up on their toes to see. Sauce, they assumed. Since step one involved removing the stem, it seemed like he was on the right track.

While he was busy with that, they used the spoon to reach for an onion and roll it within grasping range. They made quick work of the papery outer layer and then stopped, unsure how much needed to be removed.

They glanced up to find Papyrus doing much the same, looking down at them. "Do you need help?"

Frisk relented and handed it over. Before they knew what was happening, Papyrus had exchanged the onion for the cutting board and, though they didn't know why, they held onto it for him.

"I have an idea." He assured them, opening one of the lower drawers up.

It was full of bones. They didn't get the chance to appreciate that, though, since Papyrus guided the cutting board over the top of it, making them a little workspace.

He beamed at them and handed a tomato over. "Show it what for!"

Very seriously, they flipped the spoon over, brandishing the joint-patterned end at the innocent produce.

There was a short bark of "Nyeh heh heh!" from above them, followed by, "You've done it!"

While Papyrus worked with the other ingredients, Frisk methodically began squishing tomato after tomato with the business end of the spoon. It was strangely soothing, and they found that, even if the end result wasn't going to be the greatest, they were enjoying cooking with Papyrus. It was certainly less intense than Undyne's lesson had been.

They'd just handed him a bowl full of crushed tomato pieces when the comfortable atmosphere changed.

"That tomato's gotta be holy, 'cause you sure beat the hell out of it." There was a beat of silence as Sans noticed the secondary workstation and, inexorably, his eye sockets landed on Frisk.

"Whoops."

The pair of them stared at him, but that seemed to be all he had to say on the matter, since he shuffled away and turned his attention to a phone that Frisk hadn't noticed until that point.

"Nah, you're good. I just got a chili reception on that one."

Papyrus groaned and went back to work, but Frisk set the spoon down on their makeshift table, curiosity piqued.

"That is not what he's supposed to be doing." Papyrus groused, dumping the chopped onion and a mound of unrecognizable herbs in with Frisk's mangled vegetation. He reached blindly for something else and found one of the few remaining unscathed tomatoes."But whenever they start talking, it's all puns."

"I'll raisin that bet" Sans said, as if on cue. Frankly, Frisk couldn't be sure he hadn't chosen that moment just to get on his brother's nerves. "What? No. I can't top that. Guess I'll just have to accommodate."

"Sans! Stop your distasteful banter with the queen and help us!"

Sans angled the phone so the receiver pressed against his jacket's lining. "Dude, I'm not the one flirting with danger here."

There was a short silence as Papyrus took this in.

Almost hesitantly, he looked down. Frisk was already staring directly at him, intent shining in their eye sockets, and, out of some primal self-preservation technique, he took a step backwards.

"If you were a vegetable you'd be a cutecumber! "

Papyrus whirled around, tore through the apartment and out the door, tomato juice seeping from where the fruit was still clutched in one hand. Even after the door slammed shut behind him, the tail end of his "NYOOOOOOOO" was still clearly audible.

Sans snorted and mock-called out, "See ya later, Danger!"

When he made to check on Frisk again, they were midway between the kitchen and living room, eyes turned on him. He stared back, silently challenging them to do their worst.

Frisk ran over, jumped onto the couch and conspiratorially whispered, "Are you a banana? Because I find you appeeling."

With a short bark of laughter, he rested a hand on their head, fingertips tapping against their skull. "Going for the low-hanging fruit, huh? You're gonna need more than those corny jokes if you're gonna beet me. "

"Hello? Sans? Are you there?"

Simultaneously, the both of them went still.

After a second, Sans picked the receiver back up and reassured Toriel that he was still there, but not before Frisk leaned in close enough to add, "Don't artichoke."

Sans twitched- no doubt from the effort it took him to bite back a retaliatory pun- and pushed them away. When they took a breath to add some more, he covered their face with his free hand. They giggled.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Fri- Fridge just had a dog in it again. You know how much Pap digs that." He gave them a warning look as they made an attempt to get closer, spurred on by the sudden lie. "It's last minute, but do you think we could swing by tomorrow? Papyrus was trying to cook something… for you, I guess."

"Oh, that is… quite sweet of him." With all the activity on the couch, Toriel's voice was faint, but the note of panic came through in perfect clarity."There is no need for any of that, though- you do not need an excuse to come visit me. Would you like to come by tomorrow evening? I can prepare dinner to, ah, accompany your brother's dish."

Sans made a raspy sound that might have been the ghost of a laugh. "Yeah, 'accompany's' one word for it. Sounds like Pap's thinking more along the lines of 'compete' though. It's, uh. It's something.

"I gotta ask, how're you holdin' up these days? Doin' alright?"

Whatever Toriel said blended in too well with the white noise for Frisk to hear, so they had to go by Sans' reaction. It was little more than a slight twist on the usual smile, and they found it lacking.

"Well, that's why I was s'posed to call- y'know, before the jokes. We're gonna bring something else over, so uh, be prepared, okay?"

At 'something else' his irises flicked back over to Frisk. They sat balanced on their knees, keeping a respectful distance as they tried to act like they weren't eavesdropping.

"I do hope you are not trying to usurprise your former queen."

"Oh come on, you'd regen-see anything I tried to pull a mile away."

Frisk felt themselves wilt, realizing that it was just going to be puns from there on out, and got back up. The stove was unmanned and they'd made a vow to keep an eye on it, so they reasoned that their attention would be put to better use there.

Of course, they couldn't exactly reach it. They eyed the drawers, but weren't eager to reenact the climbing stunt from earlier- especially not when the first thing they'd come into contact with was a pot of boiling water.

"Yep. See you, Tori." Sans strode up next to them and pocketed the phone. After a second he asked, "So. You wanna do Pap a favor and save his pasta?"

Automatically, Frisk nodded- though, after the fact, they realized they didn't exactly know what to do with the pot. It didn't really matter, because Sans' definition of 'saving Papyrus' pasta' consisted entirely of shoving the pot onto one of the inactive burners and clicking the heat off.

They bit back a sigh and frowned at his back, but, not long thereafter, were distracted by the phone's edge sticking out of his pocket; the lie-turned-pun still bothered them.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I don't know what life with ears is like, but us skeletons can still hear- you've gotta know how long we were talking just now."

Frisk made a frustrated noise in what would have been the back of their throat, and Sans leaned against the edge of the counter to look down at them.

"This isn't the sort of thing you just drop on someone over the phone; Tori's got a good sense of humor, but what's going on here would just come across like a bad joke." He softly rapped his knuckles against their head. "Besides, I warned her we're gonna be bringing something weird over. I think you qualify."

They quieted, considering that, and allowed themselves to be herded back into the living room.

"Don't wait up on my bro- after that scream, Undyne's gotta be dogging him. It'll be awhile before he canine make a clean getaway." Though he was already right next to the couch, Sans simply plopped down where he stood, resting the back of his skull against a cushion. "You know human TV, right? It's been ages and I still can't find anything good- you give it a shot."

In the end, Frisk failed to pinpoint any quality programming- though they did accidentally hike the volume up to a frightening level before realizing what had happened- and they wound up watching a Spanish soap opera for the next hour. Sans fell asleep halfway through the first episode and didn't even wake up when Papyrus finally returned.

The pair of them did finish work on the contest-worthy pasta, so that was one mission accomplished.

Total, that was several tiny goals completed with a big challenge looming in the near future.

Frisk was nervous about it, but excited at the same time- and, when night fell, sleep found them more easily than they would have guessed.