I have a test in three days and I don't know anything T.T (Technically, I have an English test tomorrow but I think at this point it's well known I gave up on trying to learn anything in this class)

Chapter XXXVI

Spaghettis can, in fact, be a solution

Crayons are scattered over the coffee table along with a few half finished drawings. Papyrus is nowhere near the activity he dropped, but he hasn't been gone for long. Upon closer inspection, his drawings are no work of art — not in the artistic sense of the expression. Rather, they appear to be plans for more or less clever puzzles. Some are indeed of a disconcerting simplicity, while others outline hints of surprisingly challenging brain-teasers. The child probably got mixed up, as the same form is sometimes drawn multiple times with little differences and a lot of crossing-outs. Near this pile of drafts lies a colorful book, still opened on a picture of a delimited grid with a question written next to it : "How many squares are there?".

Muffled voices are coming from the kitchen, made incomprehensible by the brick walls. However, words become more and more distinct as one gets closer to the wooden door separating it from the dining room, until they eventually become clear enough. Papyrus knows it well, as he is currently standing in front of the door, his tiny fists clenched harder than they should be. He didn't want to eardrop — he doesn't want to eardrop! He just happened to hear things he knows he wasn't meant to know, and now he isn't sure he should knock anymore…

He really needs to eat something, though.

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'I can tell you don't trust me,' the muffled voice of his father says, 'so why take the risk?'

'You never planned on letting me get away with it anyway, so… Well, that's a fair deal.'

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His father marks a pause, and for a second Papyrus thinks he could come out of the kitchen. The child starts to retreat back into the living room, but he barely gets to take a few steps back before he hears the rest of the on-going conversation.

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'A deal?'

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Papyrus freezes, all his attention directed to what is said in the other room. A part of him tells him he should most definitely go back to his drawings and forget he even heard what has been said, but another wants to know what will be said next. His father said he only wanted to talk to Sans about their current situation, as to find a solution to help both of them. Obviously, Papyrus wouldn't move in with his father without being sure Sans's situation was good and stable — something that was, indeed, in progress, but not done yet. Of course, he would like to have Sans stay with him too, but he hasn't found the right moment to say so to his father. He doesn't want to anger him by asking too much, not when he wants to be sure he would have his approval first — not that Papyrus would admit it, but he is afraid of not being accepted by his father. He has already done a lot for him, from accepting to meet him and answering his questions even though Papyrus showed up without a warning to trusting Sans despite him being human. And yet, the conversation Papyrus overheard clearly stated it isn't the case: his father doesn't trust Sans, and Sans is wary too. In front of him, they seem to go along just fine… But is it just pretend? Why?

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'You get to study me, what you wanted. I get to learn more about…' — Sans's voice fades — 'You know.'

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Is it only for him? Does his father pretend he trusts Sans only so Papyrus will be happy? Is Sans complying by his father's demands only so Papyrus thinks he is safe? Or do they really both want to know more?

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'I'll tell you about what I find out.' A chair makes a scraping sound gliding on the floor as someone, probably his father, stands up. 'I'll get these to my lab tomorrow.'

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The door soon creaks open, yet Papyrus doesn't move. He doesn't even realize he has been spotted at first, too busy finding reasons for the masquerade played around him.

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'Papyrus?'

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The child jumps, suddenly realizing his father is standing in front of him. His cheekbones turn bright orange as he mutters an excuse for his presence.

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'I was hungry…'

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His looks at him with in bewilderment, his eyes for once perfectly decipherable. Eventually, seeing how sorry and embarrassed Papyrus is, he breaks into a smile.

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'Well, how about we find something to eat then? It's pretty late for you.'

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He brings his son into the kitchen, where Sans is readjusting his sweater's sleeve without expecting the small skeleton to show up. However, his pleading look goes ignored as Gaster simply passes him without even batting an eye to open the fridge.

That is undoubtedly empty, safe for a couple of slightly black spotted tomatoes and half a can of tuna.

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'Oh well…'

Sans peeks quickly, his eyes almost immediately drifting to a pack of round pasta. 'Spaghettis?'

'Spaghettis?' Gaster repeats, apparently not knowing the term.

'Pasta with tomato sauce and…' Sans gives a look to the ingredients — or lack thereof — available to them. 'Whatever is left in the fridge.'

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With a sigh, Gaster stands and starts closing the yellow door of the fridge.

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'Perhaps we should go…' His pupils lay on Papyrus, whose eye sockets are sparkling out of excitement, and his voice drops. '... out. Or we could do that.'

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oOo

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'Is it Human food?' Papyrus asks, his words almost mashed together.

'I guess?'

'Is it special food?'

Sans stops peeling the cooked tomatoes for a second, thinking about the question. 'Special food?'

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Gaster watches them from afar, slowly setting the table for three. Interacting with Sans does in fact make Papyrus happy, and that in itself is rejoicing. He still doesn't know all the story, he can feel it. After all, Papyrus didn't talk much about it and Sans had a hard time explaining some parts. All he knows is that they went through a lot by their standards — too much, even. They grew attached because, at some point, each other was all they had left… Maybe Gaster had been too harsh at first, even if he would reluctantly recognize it, but separating them would only cause more harm than anything else. He wants to believe Sans will not hurt his son, even if a part of him can't detach itself from its prejudices. He wants to believe what he heard is true, or at least only twisted by feelings.

There is a chance it is all a lie. One clearly crafted and plausible lie. He doesn't want to believe so anymore. He doesn't want to hurt Papyrus. He can't afford hurting Papyrus.

If it means he has to trust Sans, then he'll do his best. He wants to believe the effort will be made on both sides, as he thinks it is. Yet, the more he gets to know the human boy, the more he realizes Monsters and Humans are far more similar than he would have liked.

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The more he realizes he may not be able to do what has to be done if he made the wrong choice.

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'Like temmie flakes!' The exclamation surprises him, making him let go of the fork he was holding. Papyrus, however, doesn't even react to the sound of metal falling on the ground as he keeps on speaking. 'Mum says temmie flakes should only be eaten for special breakfasts!' He stops suddenly — awkwardly — and Gaster can see the sparkles in his look fades into sadness. 'Said…'

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Sans quickly looks away for a second, reminded too of something he usually dares not to think about. His hand quivers, his grip on the knife dwindling a little, but his fist clenches on the handle. With his other hand, he gives a little tap under Papyrus chin to make him look up. When the child does, he offers him a smile as bright as he can manage at the moment.

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'Hey, cheer up Paps.' His smile and voice tremble slightly, but he forces it even more. 'We should hurry a bit with those tomatoes, it's pasta your bedtime.'

Papyrus looks at him, seemingly utterly confused. 'I don't have a bedti-?' And he eventually picks up on the pun. 'Sans!'

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The more Gaster realizes he will not be able to do what has to be done if it threatens this fragile balance.

I'm sorry, I had to include spaghettis at some point XD (I also have to buy some, but that's another thing) And it's taking way more chapters than I planned to get to the next part of the story, yet I'm technically not writting fillers... Like I always plan twenty- something chapters story, and SOMEHOW the number triples each. and. every. single. time.
And I may be (sort of) responsible for the cooking part of the school newspaper and there is a possibility that I don't know how to cook...

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I don't know what I'm doing anymore T.T