Quiet Hands (part 3)

"How did the meeting go?" Toriel met Sans at the door, her large brown eyes wide with worry.

"I met Linda," Sans said grimly. The corner of his mouth twitched at the face she made. "I see you're not a fan of her either."

"There are some people who are…adverse…to my position as a teacher," Toriel admitted with a sigh, careful to keep her voice down. "Mrs. Harris is among them, and she is one of the most vocal about it. However, I am not worried. I am sure that all she needs is some time to get used to our presence and then she will see that while our exteriors may differ, it is the content of our souls that matters the most."

"I wish I had your optimism, Tori," Sans said.

"Oh, dear." She put a hand on his shoulder and looked down at him, a crease appearing between her eyes. "Sans, you were not too terrible, were you?"

"Don't worry, I behaved myself," Sans promised. "I may have scared her a little, but it's nothing she didn't deserve."

Toriel donned her Stern Mom expression, narrowing her eyes. "Sans, what did you do?"

Sans tilted his head back to look at her for a moment and let his eyes bloom dark, the empty sockets staring up at Toriel. "That."

Toriel frowned at him. "I said no magic, Sans!"

"I didn't use any. That's something skeletons can do."

"I have never seen your brother do that," Toriel said doubtfully.

"Nah, Pap doesn't see a reason for it. Plus, it's a little harder to see it when he does it—narrow sockets and all that. But rest assured that I gave Linda quite an eyeful."

"You are terrible, Sans." Toriel shook her head, looking back toward the kitchen and fighting against a smile.

"I know." Sans followed her gaze. "How's the kid?" Toriel hadn't been home when Frisk arrived in tears and he wondered if they had told her about 'quiet hands' at all.

"Frisk helped me cook—there are leftovers in the refrigerator if you would like any—and Papyrus is helping them with their homework. I am surprised that they are studying anatomy this early."

"Anatomy, huh?"

She nodded, her silken ears flapping slightly. "I am sorry you missed Papyrus's shock when he discovered that humans have skeletons inside them." She bit the inside of her cheek but wasn't able to stifle a grin. "It was quite amusing."

"I'll bet it was," Sans said. "Are they in the kitchen still?"

Toriel nodded. "Excuse me, I must find Undyne. The gym teacher had a question for me and I think that she would very much like to hear it." She turned to go, brushing her palm over the top of Sans's head as she went. He closed his eyes briefly at the touch before walking into the kitchen. Papyrus sat on the floor, the top half of his armor discarded to leave his bones bare to his hips. Frisk was circling him slowly, wielding a marker.

"HELLO, BROTHER!"

Frisk waved and Sans waved back, his irritation at Linda rapidly dissolving. "What're you up to, kiddo?"

"THE HUMAN IS LEARNING HOW TO LABEL SKELETONS!" Papyrus declared cheerfully. "I AM HELPING!"

Sans stepped closer, chuckling as he saw Frisk's carefully-shaped letters marked along his arms and ribcage, the word 'skull' spaced deliberately across his head like a strange sort of crown. "Does that wash off?"

"I THINK SO," Papyrus said, surveying his forearm. "I HOPE SO."

Sans dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, resting his chin in his palm. "What happened there?" He pointed with his other hand to a squiggly blue line that spanned several of Papyrus's ribs.

He wiggled, Frisk signed, biting the end of the marker and frowning at Papyrus's shoulder, peering past him to look at Sans. He said it tickles. Worry flashed through their dark eyes, and he saw the troubled question therein.

L-A-T-E-R, he spelled, and Frisk's frown deepened. You're not in trouble.

Their expression relaxed somewhat and they leaned in to write something else on Papyrus, who was careful to remain perfectly still. He twisted his head and looked at the letters. "NOT QUITE, BUT GOOD TRY!"

Sans leaned forward and Papyrus twisted to show him. "Ah. Yeah, that would be 'scapula,' bud. Not 'spatula.'"

"BUT SPATULAS ARE WONDERFUL INVENTIONS AS WELL!" Papyrus said quickly. "I AM THINKING OF STARTING A COLLECTION!"

"Better ask Toriel about that, Pap," Sans advised. "So you're studying skeletons, kid? How's that going?"

Kids look at me funny in class when the teacher mentions it, Frisk said, pulling a face to demonstrate something between amusement and unease. They think I'm making stuff up when I tell them about you and Papyrus."

"OOH! SANS! WE SHOULD GO TO SCHOOL WITH FRISK AND GIVE A LESSON ABOUT SKELETON HISTORY!"

"Maybe not just yet," Sans said quickly. He had seen the way that Linda had looked at him—it would have been impossible to miss, really—and he wasn't about to let her start in on Papyrus. The meeting had been full of subtle comments clearly meant to make Sans feel unwelcome; he had lost track of the number of times she had called something 'monstrous,' but he felt a spiteful surge of pride when he remembered the face she had made upon hearing him agree with her, and how that face had twisted when he calmly declared the same thing 'inhuman.' Dance, Linda, he had thought, fighting the urge to laugh as she glared daggers at him.

"HOW DID THE MEETING GO?" Papyrus asked, breaking Sans out of his thoughts. Behind him, Frisk flinched and the marker skidded slightly across Papyrus's clavicle. Their worried eyes found Sans's and he could see the tension creeping through their neck and back as they waited on tenterhooks for his response.

"You could definitely show them a thing or two about cooking, for starters," Sans answered, trying to keep his tone light and unconcerned.

"SHALL I MAKE SPAGHETTI FOR NEXT WEEK?"

"Eh, it's not really a spaghetti-environment," Sans said easily, shrugging his shoulders and smiling. "Good way to use your noodle, though." He winked.

Papyrus stared at him for a moment before detaching his right arm and throwing it at Sans, who dodged easily to the side.

Papyrus, I wasn't done! Frisk put their small fists on their hips, doing their best to look stern.

"I AM SORRY, FRISK," Papyrus said dutifully, wearing that expression that Sans enjoyed so much: his brother looked torn between smiling and screaming. Sans considered the day wasted if he didn't make Papyrus make that face at least once.

Sans picked up his brother's arm with blue magic and brought it to the table. "There's more to anatomy than labelling bones," he said. "You need to learn how to put them back together."

"GOOD IDEA!" Papyrus's annoyance vanished like smoke in a stiff breeze; he looked positively delighted at the idea of his own deconstruction. "YOU SHOULD TAKE MY ARM APART!"

Frisk looked anxiously between them. Can I do that? Will it hurt?"

"Not at all," Sans assured them, detaching the fingers of one hand and rattling them in his cupped palm like macabre dice. "See?" He put his hand back together and opened and closed his fist. "No arm done."

"I CHANGED MY MIND," Papyrus said, looking around for something else to throw at Sans. "GIVE MY ARM BACK."

Sans tossed it to him and he reconnected it with a pop and a click that made Frisk shudder.

Don't like that noise, they said, taking Papyrus's hand and pulling his glove off to begin writing on his fingers.

Sans waited until Toriel had sent Frisk off to bed before slipping up the stairs and knocking softly on the door, waiting until Frisk opened it to let him in. They scampered back to their bed and sat on top of the rumpled covers, hugging their knees with one arm and turning on the bedside lamp (shaped like a seahorse).

"Somethin' tells me you didn't tell Tori about 'quiet hands,'" Sans said, sitting on the end of the bed and crossing his legs.

Frisk shook their head, nestling their chin between their knees.

"Mind tellin' me why?"

Their signs were slow, fully formed, a combination of thoughtful and dejected. I don't want her to worry. She's sad already because the other teachers treat her different, and some of the kids think they can be rude to her. But a lot of other kids like her a lot… They paused, scratching at a seam in their quilt for a moment. Sans waited patiently for them to continue. But she wants to save everyone. She wants to help everyone, and it makes her really sad when people are mean to her even if she doesn't show it. I can tell. I didn't tell her because I knew she would get mad at Mrs. Harris and I didn't want them to fight and maybe make Toriel lose her job. She wants to be a teacher and she was so happy when the principal said yes. I don't want her to lose that because of me.

Sans felt his heart soften and he ruffled Frisk's hair. "You're a good kid, Frisk," he said quietly.

What did you say to Mrs. Harris at the meeting?

Sans decided not to tell Frisk about his not-too-subtle threat. "I said that it wasn't fair to you and that it was discriminatory for her to treat you any different. By the end of the meeting she agreed to talk to the principal about getting an interpreter for you so you don't have to worry about not being able to sign. I let Toriel know that you'd been facing some problems and that if the principal calls her in, it's not about anything that she's done wrong."

But did you tell her about 'quiet hands?' Frisk's dark eyes were almost pleading.

Sans hesitated before shaking his head. "I didn't tell her any specifics. You should do that."

Frisk shook their head adamantly.

"No, listen to me. Toriel's part of the family and she cares about you a whole lot, kid. Remember?" He hoped that the gentle reminder of their conversation in the MTT Resort wouldn't hurt Frisk—they had never looked at him quite the same way after they heard his confession and saw his eyes bloom into blackness for the first time, realizing that he was not just the simple comic relief he had allowed himself to be. The first time they realized he could be dangerous.

To his immense relief, however, Frisk simply nodded, their expression softening into weary submission. I know.

"If anything, she deserves to know so that she's not walkin' into it blind," Sans went on.

I don't know how.

"I can be there with you if you want," Sans offered. "But it's important that you tell her yourself."

Frisk gave him an unenthusiastic thumbs-up.

"So," Sans said, determined to make Frisk look at least less gloomy before going to sleep, "whose idea was it to write all over Papyrus?"

His, Frisk signed, beginning to smile. After he found out about skeletons and calmed down, I showed him my worksheet and he said that it was ridiculous that I should be studying a picture when I had two skeletons in my house. …Sans?

"What's up?"

If I'm causing problems for all of you, with my signing at school, I can…maybe…

Sans held up his hand, shaking his head before Frisk could finish articulating their thought. "No way, kiddo. First, your signing is special and it's part of you. Nobody should think they're able to take that away. Second, it's not causing problems for us. The only people it hurts are those opposed to it because they're exposing themselves for the bigots they are. Third, don't ever think you gotta sacrifice your wellbeing or your rights for anyone's comfort. You hear me, kid? Don't ever settle for being treated as second-class just because it makes somebody else feel better about themselves. And fourth, your world is full of idiots. There's good people too, you're proof of that, but some people are stuck in their ways and you got no choice but to fight them." Sans let his eye glow, but this light was soft and warm, not a beacon of battle but a glimmer of pride and love. "Remember, pal, you're not alone in fighting, either. You've got all of us. We'll fight with you, and for you. We've all got your back, okay?"

Frisk nodded and smiled, rocking forward onto their knees to wrap their arms around Sans's neck and kiss him on the cheek. Thank you.

He took them by the shoulders and gently pushed them backward, sending them tumbling onto the mattress with a giggle. "Go to sleep, kid, before you make everyone get sentimental."

They wriggled down beneath the quilt, pulling it up to their chin and peering owlishly up at him. Good night, Sans.

"Sleep well, Frisk."