Going back in time for this one, so all those various preg* tags apply

Sans choked and sputtered as he desperately struggled with the one window in his tiny studio apartment, he finally managed to force the latch to unlock and throw the window open. Smoke billowed out around him and into the musty New Home air. He coughed and impatiently waved the spatula he was still holding in a vain attempt to help air out the apartment. There was a hiss and violent sizzle from the stove. Sans swore and turned back to it, quickly turning off the burner and moving the overflowing pot off it, he moved it right next to the pan still emitting a now thin stream of smoke from the black and pink lump sitting in its middle.

"food's fucking done," Sans grumbled to himself as he attempted to scrape the burnt mess onto a plate. "pan seared salmon," he sneered, "so easy, the perfect recipe for a beginner cook. bah!" With a particularly vicious shove, he managed to get the spatula under the… well Sans wasn't quite sure exactly what kind of fish it was. Whatever was most common in Waterfall, probably not actually salmon. Not that it should matter, right? Fish was fish, it should all cook the same. So the fish was scraped onto his plate, the pan and spatula dumped into the sink to be dealt with later. Then he turned his attention to his steamed vegetables. Boiled vegetables? He wasn't sure what a colander was but he was sure he didn't have one. Hot water was hot water, it really shouldn't make that much of a difference, right? He fished the veggies out and plopped them onto his plate. That done he grabbed a fork and waddled over to his bed.

It was the only furniture he had so far, if you didn't count the counters and cupboards that were built into the kitchen. What few clothes he'd gotten himself so far were scattered on the floor around the bed and one of the room's corners. He'd have to go get himself a dresser or wardrobe or something, but that could wait for a later day. Plate balanced on what little lap he had left, the kid already kicking up a fuss over him sitting, Sans poked at his meal warily. The veggies were limp and soggy, some of the water draining off them to puddle around the fish. Okay, so maybe his first attempt at cooking was kind of a disaster, but he wasn't going to waste food. He used his fork to cut off a piece of fish and held it up to get a better look at it. The inside wasn't burnt, maybe he could scrape off the burned bits?

There was a knock at Sans's door.

He groaned and let his fork fall back on the plate. Ugh! What now? Probably a nosy neighbor, he did not want to deal with that right now. Do you have any idea how hard it was for him to stand up once he'd sat down? No thanks, he's trapped on this bed save for an emergency.

The knock came again.

A nosy, persistent neighbor, it seemed. Sans groaned again, "coming, coming. keep your shirt on." He set the plate to the side, then set about rocking himself up onto his feet. The kid settled down once he was upright, though he'd learned over the last few days that it wouldn't last if he didn't start moving soon. The kid seemed to enjoy the movement, which wouldn't be a problem if standing for more than five minutes at a time didn't cause his back, hips, knees, and feet to ache like a bitch.

There was another knock on Sans's door.

"i said i was coming, holy fuck." He waddled the short distance to the door and leaned up as best he could to see out the peep hole. There was a fish standing at the door, something in their hands. It was hard to tell with how the peep hole distorted the view, but they seemed a little taller than him. And quite old, the blue of their scales dull and grayish. Most of the residents of this particular complex were old. "what do you want?" Sans hollered through the door.

The neighbor held up something rectangular in their hands, "I have a welcome gift for you."

Sans scoffed, "a welcome gift?" Who'd ever heard of such a thing? Who could even think up such a thing? Ridiculous! But Sans must be part cat because he found himself opening the door to peek out cautiously anyway. "what is it?"

"Just a bit of casserole, chicken and rice." The neighbor, definitely a little taller than Sans, even hunched over, with white hair and gray eating at the tips of their fins, held up the rectangular dish in their hands, holding it practically under Sans's nasal aperture. A delicious scent wafted up from it, one that had the kid doing somersaults. Sans grimaced and rubbed at his belly in an attempt to calm them down. The neighbor just smiled at that, showing off a couple missing teeth. "How about you invite me in and we both have some?"

Sans looked back into his cramped but empty apartment, the scent of burnt fish making his orbits burn. He looked back to find the neighbor leaning over to look inside. "i don't have any furniture," he said flatly, pulling the door close to his body.

"That's alright, I have a table and a couple chairs in my apartment. Come along, can't let the little one go hungry." The neighbor turned and started shuffling down the hallway.

Sans hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of following this neighbor. The debate was thrown out the window when there was a sharp kick to his spine. He quickly stepped into the hall and locked the door behind him, then waddled after the neighbor, just one door down from him. Inside their apartment was just as tiny as his, but crammed full to bursting with furniture. A bed, a short sofa, a padded rocking chair (all overstuffed, worn, and in big flower prints), a coffee table covered in magazines and various scissors, a dresser, a dinner table, and three wooden chairs, each with its own overstuffed cushion, tucked under the table all stuffed into the same small space. The neighbor led Sans over to the table where they set the casserole down, then started bustling about the kitchen.

Sans sat heavily at the table to watch them warily, ready to do whatever weird teleporting magic he could somehow do in case they turned out to be hostile. They returned with some silverware and plates, after placing them on the table they bustled about again, returning with a pair of glasses full of some kind of dark red liquid. They served themself and Sans each a square of casserole, then sat down themself. There was a brief, awkward pause as they both looked at each other before the neighbor picked up their fork and took their first bite. Sans quickly followed suit.

"My name's Naiad," the neighbor said after a couple bites.

"sans," he replied around a mouthful of food. Once it absorbed he added, "this's really good."

"Thank you, I can teach you the recipe if you like."

Sans felt his face flush, Naiad's window was open and he could still smell a few whiffs of fishy smoke. "i uh… yeah. that'd be… yeah."

Naiad just smiled and took another bite. Sans went back to shoveling the food into his mouth, it really was good. He tensed up when Naiad opened her mouth to speak again, but relaxed when all she did was talk about the ingredients that went into the casserole.

"The next time I make something I'll come fetch you first and we can cook together."

"sure," Sans found himself agreeing to without really thinking.

Naiad smiled at his response, then gathered up the empty dishes and took a step to the sink. Sans felt a quick stab of panic, unsure where it came from or why. He simply sat there, trying to keep his breathing even and hoping the random panic would go away. Once Naiad finished whatever she was doing with the dishes, washing them probably, that's what people did with dirty dishes, right? Washed them? She turned back to Sans with another smile. "How're you feeling now?"

"okay i guess?" Sans sat there, unsure what to do next. Should he just leave now? Is that what people did? Just eat someone's food then leave?

"How about we move this to the living room, the chairs there are more comfortable."

"uh… okay."

Naiad held a hand out, Sans took it and let her help him heave himself to his feet. "Here, try this rocking chair." She helped him settle into it, once he was slowly rocking himself she sat on the short sofa and started talking again. "I usually like to keep busy now that I'm retired, there's lots of hobbies floating around that you can pick up. And a lot of it is so useful! Not that I've picked up any of the useful hobbies." Naiad chuckled to herself, then started talking about the magazines and scissors on the coffee table before going off onto a tangent about her BINGO buddies. Then one of the questions Sans had been dreading came up. "So, are you living alone?"

Sans tensed up, his rocking coming to an abrupt halt that had the kid kicking in protest. "yeah. heh, if you don't count this little guy." He couldn't help the way his face softened as he ran a hand over his round belly.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

Sans couldn't help nodding, "yeah, it is."

Naiad nodded along, then her eyes drifted down to the coffee table and she seemed to start. "Oh yes, let me show you where I keep my folding papers and other supplies. You have to be careful about space in a place like this, I was lucky I already had such a useful table." She scooted forward and reached down to pull out a drawer under the table and pull out a brightly colored piece of paper with a faint pattern on it.

Sans started rocking gently again, relaxing a bit when that one question didn't turn into more. Maybe she would ask more later, she probably would if he did end up coming over here for cooking lessons. But she wasn't right now, and Sans found himself grateful for it. Sitting there, having just eaten, listening to Naia go on about Betsy's shameful cheating and how she didn't like Naiad's little folded creations, Sans found himself smiling. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.