Chapter 4: Feeling Bonely

Author's note: Thanks animezom123 for the review! Hope that you and all my readers continue to enjoy the story.

Although Sans seemed round and lazy, he could move very quietly when he wanted to. Wanting to observe without revealing himself, he kept to the spaces between the light, hidden in the shadows of the pillars that propped up the castle.

Although most of the castle had been repaired by now, there were traces of battle that could not be erased by magic. Some of the elegant columns still had large chunks of marble gorged out, and the floors were chipped and dusty. Some doors were locked, with a sign outside that simply said, "Undergoing renovations." In a way these marks were reminders that nothing could go back to how it was before.

If Asgore was still here, he would have been in the throne room puttering among his flowers. But it was only Toriel now here, and she was alone in the palace kitchen. A smell of crust and freshly baked spices wafted out around her. The Queen of monsters was dressed simply, in purple robes with a functional apron tied around her waist. Her usual long sleeves had been rolled up past her elbows, revealing the soft fur beneath. Her arms were dusted in flour, and she was humming a little tune as she worked the dough. The only indication of her royal status was the simple gold circlet around her brow.

It was a pleasant, warming scene. Golden light filtered in through a window, casting everything in a soft yellow. The kitchen was neat and well-kept, and one could see the care that was taken in its presentation. Sans had not stepped into his own kitchen since that one particular day, as too much of it reminded him of his brother. Instead, he left the boxes and boxes of frozen spaghetti entombed in the refrigerator.

"Well, are you going to come in?" Toriel suddenly said. She turned and smiled at him directly. "Would you like a slice of pie?"

It was one of those rare occasions where Sans felt himself caught completely offguard. He was still smiling, but he could feel his sockets slide downwards in an awkward expression. This was not what he expected at all- he had it all planned out with an elaborate knock-knock joke, and this lady had just ruined the surprise due to her possession of metaphorical eyes at the back of her head.

But as he was also Sans, he could roll with whatever curveballs life threw at him. Allowing his smile to stretch even broader, he walked forwards into the light.

He held out his hand towards Toriel.

"Oh," she said, wiping her hands hastily on her purple apron. "Forgive me, my hands are a bit dusty and-"

As she grabbed Sans' hand, a loud, rude fart ripped through the dignified kitchen.

Mortified, Toriel stared at Sans. She quickly let go of his hand, revealing the yellow whoopee cushion nestled snug in his palm.

"I originally wanted to introduce myself with a knock-knock joke, but I had to improvise," Sans said, grinning up at her. "You can't go wrong with a classic fart joke."

The Queen giggled, and as she listened to him, her eyes lit up in recognition. Joy crinkled at the edges of her eyes, and she leaned forwards to peer at the skeleton standing so casually before her.

"I know your voice," she said slowly, as though she could hardly believe it. Her voice was soft and musical. "I believe we may have met before?"

"Knock knock," grinned Sans mischievously.

"Who's there?"

"Woo."

"Woo who?" Even before the punch line, Toriel was already shaking with suppressed mirth. She really was every comedian's dream audience.

"Don't get too excited," Sans answered with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "It's just a knock knock joke."

Toriel let out a loud guffaw of genuine laughter. She snorted and giggled, and the sound warmed Sans like a bottle of Grillby's best ketchup.

"My name is Sans," he said, looking up into her face. "Sans the skeleton." Before coming to the palace, he had debated very briefly on whether he should wear something nicer. But he was much too lazy, and he guessed that if the Queen really was the mysterious lady behind the door, she would not be the sort to care. And so, Sans wore the same blue jacket, shorts and fluffy pink slippers to meet the Queen. The only concession he made was that he did give his jacket a wash.

"Sans," Toriel said. "That's a very nice name."

"Thanks Tori," the skeleton replied casually. "I have been told that it is…. Sans-ational." He wiggled his eye sockets at her.

Toriel laughed again. "You are such a bonehead," she teased. Their banter and smiles flowed as naturally and easily as those bygone days in the forest, and not at all like words between a Queen and her subject.

"I have one for you," she said excitedly, two bright spots appearing in her cheeks. "Why did the skeleton want a friend?"

Sans already knew the answer to this joke, but he humoured her anyway.

"Why?"

"Because he was feeling bonely!" They both laughed. Sans was grinning from ear to ear, while Toriel wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. The joke was as old as the hills, but it somehow still seemed fresh and funny when said by Toriel. It had been a very long time since Sans felt this happy.

"Oh, you are getting a bit of a royal flush there," Sans joked, as Toriel's cheeks flushed red from laughter. "I may need to ask for a royal pun-don to continue making bad jokes."

"I do declare that puns are meant to be bad," said Toriel grandly, clanging her batter spoon against the baking tray. "As a loyal subject, you should strive endlessly to match me in a batter of wits."

"No half-baked puns from me, your royal highness," agreed Sans. "My puns are the cream of the crop."

"Oh really," said Toriel loftily. "Well then Mr smarty-pants, I have my pie set on you."

"Well enough about pie, let's talk about tea," Sans countered. "Do you know what tea prices fluctuate the most?"

"No, I don't," answered Toriel. "What kind of tea?"

"It's uncertain tea!"

It was so ridiculous that they both burst out laughing again. To many people, the exchange would have earned its fair share of eye rolls; but to Sans and Toriel, it felt completely right and natural. The feeling was wonderful. It was the feeling of being engaged with someone who just got you in a way that other people did not, who found the same things funny as you did and did not judge you in anyway.

Sans told puns because he liked them, and because he had long accepted that very few people would find them as funny as he did. It seemed that Toriel was the same way, although her love of comedy was more private and reserved. As the skeleton watched Toriel laugh- she had a wonderful laugh by the way, a loud and full and unreserved sound- Sans felt something warm bloom in the pits of his soul.

Papyrus would have gone crazy if he was here. He was already annoyed with his brother's puns and if there were now two of them…

At the thought of his brother, guilt rose like a black haze in his mind. The happy, warm feeling he felt a moment ago seemed to strangle. He wanted this with Toriel so badly… but why did it have to happen in a timeline where his brother was gone?

He was still smiling, but the pinpoints in his eyes shrank a little, and the upward turn on the corners of his mouth seemed to sink in a little into themselves. However, the shifts were slight, and Toriel did not know Sans enough to be able to read the subtle changes in mood. She was still giggling slightly at the banter they just had, looking at Sans with a fond expression.

At that very moment, the oven DINGED, snapping both of them from their thoughts.

"Oh, the pie is finally done!" Toriel exclaimed happily. She was now in her element, and her manner turned brisk and business-like.

"Sans, could you please put the coaster at the centre of the table? I am taking out the pie now."

"Sure thing, Tori," Sans said, thankful for the distraction. He grabbed the round cork coaster and carefully positioned it on the table. He shifted the other utensils and ingredients out of the way.

Toriel opened the door of the oven, and a wonderful smell of cinnamon and butterscotch emanated out. "It's perfect," said Toriel happily. "I was so worried that the oven here would not be the same as back home- I mean, the Ruins."

"It smells pie-ticularly amazing, Tori," said Sans sincerely. The smell was making his mouth water. Although he was a skeleton, he was still a monster, and monsters had to eat to survive. He could survive with very little food, and it had been a long time since he smelled anything as good as this homemade pie. His diet had always been exclusively greasy burgers, fries and ketchup, much to the despair of Papyrus.

Putting on a pair of patterned mitts, Toriel expertly lifted the pie from the oven and set it on the table to cool. The crust was a wonderful golden brown, and the sort that would melt in your mouth. And hidden inside the pie like treasure was the sweet smooth filling of cinnamon and butterscotch.

Sans wished that he could stay in this moment forever- in this homely, dainty kitchen, eating pie and exchanging jokes with a kindred spirit. He did not want to think that this was a world where his brother was gone, and that all this would soon disappear as though it never existed. He did not want to have that conversation he knew he needed to have- on how Toriel's determination for peace was going to turn all the monsters in the underground against her.

As Toriel looked at the steaming pie, her eyes grew a little sad.

"When you stopped coming by, I thought that I would never see you again." Toriel said softly. "I was worried that something happened to you."

"Whelp, as you can see, that fear was unfounded," Sans said lightly. He did not want to share the real reason why he stopped visiting. "I was a sentry and reassigned to Hotland. I didn't manage to get to say goodbye before I left."

"Ah, that is a pity. I missed our knock knock jokes very much. It can get… a bit lonely in the ruins. Ever since-" Toriel stopped. She shook her head and looked at Sans, smiling.

"Well, all that is water under the bridge already. You are here now, and let's talk about happier things. How is your brother? Papyrus, was it not? I hope he is well." Toriel said, thinking of how Sans always used to talk about his brother. It reminded her of happier days when her two children were around. "Is he here? I hope that I can meet with him soon."

There was a short silence. Sans felt his smile grow rigid, and he wondered for a moment if he should lie and say that Papyrus was on vacation. But as he looked at Toriel's sincere face, he could not bring himself to.

"He has… fallen down." Because of that human you cared so much about. A small voice, ugly and sly and bitter, whispered in his ear.

Toriel's hands flew to her mouth. "I am truly sorry," she said. "I did not know."

"It's all right Tori," Sans said. His tone was sad, and he looked down at his hands wishing the conversation never took a turn here. "I have come to terms with it."

As Toriel looked at the skeleton in front of her, her heart ached. She knew how he felt, to have someone you loved so much be wrenched away from you suddenly. It was a gaping wound that took years to heal, and even then, it would still carry scars. Her heart went out to him and she felt a strong instinct to give comfort.

Acting on impulse, she reached out and grabbed him to her tightly. "I am so sorry," she whispered. "I am so sorry for your loss."

Shocked, Sans felt his whole body grow stiff. Aside from his brother, he never really allowed himself to grow close to anyone. He had many acquaintances, but these were all kept at arms' length. Cultivating close friendships took a lot of effort that Sans did not have the energy for. And so, he always handled everything alone.

Toriel was warm and soft. She smelled of pie and everything that is good and kind in the world. A normal monster would have been able to receive Toriel's comfort, would have been able to wrap their arms around her and cry into her shoulder in grief. But Sans was not normal. He was too closed in to himself, too empty and too wounded to be able to accept the comfort freely given.

A light blue dusted his cheeks, but his arms remained stiffly at his side. Sans desperately wanted to be able to lean into her touch, but he could not. Too many things remained unspoken, and the tension felt thick like butter.

After a while, Toriel let her arms drop and she stepped away. "I'm sorry," she said almost wretchedly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay, Tori," said Sans. "I really appreciate it. It's just that hugs are not my strong suit." He smiled, opening his hands in a placating gesture. The walls were back up again. "Shall we cut open your pie-tacular pie? I think it should be cool enough to try."

"Yes, Sans, let's do so," said Toriel, happy for the excuse to move past the awkward moment.

They ate the pie in the golden kitchen, talking about puns and jokes and snails, while the topics hidden in the dark festered beneath.