Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth. Doing that sends a wave of pain through his entire body.
It really did explode then, huh?
His skin's blistering under the heat of the explosion and his head throbs from where he had hit it as he fell. Weakly raising his hand, he grimaces at the sight of blackened, bubbling skin that coats his arm. His suit is ripped and he's cut in multiple different places from his fall.
Strangely, his burns don't seem to bother him as much as his bruises. Third degree burns, he thinks blearily. They stop hurting because the nerves are damaged to the point that you stop feeling.
He thinks he can see a hint of bone on his leg. Dropping his head back down as he can't muster the energy to keep it up any more, he looks at the ironically peaceful night sky.
Sans suddenly appears, standing above him, and Peter can't even muster enough energy to be surprised. His everlasting grin twitches a little as he eyes the exposed bone. "hey, kid. bones are my thing, not yours." He jokes.
Peter coughs as he tries to laugh. "Well." He rasps, leaning over to hack the smoke out of his lungs. "I usually would like to keep it that way."
"but you had no choice." Sans notes. His eyes assess Peter's entire body, to his shaking hands, to his burned legs, to the bruises on multiple parts of his body that's exposed.
Peter agrees. "Yep."
Sans makes a lazy gesture, as if he's grabbing something from thin air. A hotdog falls into his hands. He stares at the hotdog for a second, and something visibly flashes in his eyes. He hands it over before Peter has time to take a closer look. "here, kid. eat up, it'll help."
"A hotdog will help?"
Sans shrugs. "i mean, if you don't want it…" He starts to pull his arm away slowly. Tantalizingly slowly.
"No, no, no. Gimmie that." Peter says, weakly grabbing at it. Sans quickly hands it over with a grin, and Peter takes a big bite out of the hot dog.
The food does something strange. It still tastes like a hot dog, seasonings and everything, but where food is supposed to go down your throat when you swallow it, this one just…dissolves. And by dissolves, he doesn't mean just dissolves into thin air, but he can feel the tingles travel down his entire body. It's hard to explain.
He shivers. It's a weird feeling. What feels weirder, though, is the feeling of skin stitching itself back up. Peter raises an arm in wonder as the blackened skin quickly reverts back to its original color, and his wound fills back up with fresh, healthy flesh.
"Wow." He breathes, before quickly finishing the hot dog. The magic prickles as it quickly finishes its work, not even leaving a scar. He presses a hand gingerly to the side of his leg, where there was once bone, feeling for bruises that aren't there. "What is this stuff?"
Sans grins, but relief shines in his eyes. "mons—magic food. good stuff, huh?"
"Yeah." Peter rubs his forehead. He takes a deep breath. "Really good stuff." All the smoke is cleared from his lungs as well. Wow, a singular hotdog could put the entire medical industry out of business. "What's in that thing?"
"magic."
"I couldn't have guessed." Peter deadpans as he stands up, fully rejuvenated. "But wow."
"that's certainly a word for it." Sans says as he strolls up to the bird-man, who is knocked out. "might wanna tie this guy up." He notes with a casual tone that definitely is not suited for the situation.
Peter sprints over and ties the guy's arms and legs together with webs. He then rips a piece of cardboard out from one of the fallen boxes, pulling a pen out of a compartment on his wrist, writing in large letters: "Bad guy here. Arrest him."
Underneath, he draws a giant arrow. He drags the guy to lean upright onto a wall, then sticks the sign beside him with webs. The guy—thankfully—isn't burned as badly as Peter was, considering his proximity to the explosion.
Peter stumbles across the battlefield, stomping out any fires still burning as he goes. Sans follows at a relaxed pace, hands back in his pockets.
They get to one of the walls surrounding the beach and Peter quickly climbs up, sitting down on the other side and leaning against it with a heavy sigh, eyes trained on the ground. Shuffling over, Sans plops down beside him.
It's really dark now; the sun had set again during the battle. Peter looks at Sans, head tilted up and eyes tracing the stars above.
It's peaceful here, just the two of them.
A few minutes later, there's a distant sound of stomping feet, and Sans' eyes slowly move towards the wall. The rest of him doesn't follow, but a moment later, he shifts.
In a blink, he's standing in front of Peter. "need a hand?" He offers, grinning. Peter nods wearily.
Sans' grin grows, and he detaches his arm, holding it out in front of him.
Peter yelps and stumbles back. Sans laughs as Peter scoots back until his back is against the wall again. "Sans, what the hell!?"
"thought you needed a hand." The detached arm wiggles, and Peter bites back a shriek.
"Not literally!" Peter says, panicked at the sight of the limb, which has changed back to looking like a skeleton arm now that it's not attached to the glamour thing.
Sans shrugs. "should'a been more specific then," he teases, before reattaching the limb with a pop. He holds the same hand out, now fully reattached, and Peter grabs onto it gratefully. He stumbles to his feet, dusting himself off.
He points at Sans with a shaky hand. "I should've known your limbs could come off."
"well, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound as funny." Sans says, shrugging, hands in his pockets. "they arrested the bird-guy, by the way. thought we should move before they find us too."
"Good idea." Peter agrees. He suddenly has a thought. Bringing a hand to his chest, he gently presses the black spider logo that is attached to his suit. A hologram appears in front of him with giant red letters: BATTERY DEAD.
"Ohhh, my god." Peter puts his head in his hands. "I forgot to charge my suit! It didn't end up breaking!"
He hears the sound of laughter and turns to see Sans snickering into his sleeve. "Sans! This isn't funny! You know how many problems this suit could have solved for me!"
Sans' amused expression turns a little bit sad. "but you didn't need it in the end." He points out, and Peter grumpily agrees. "might not wanna depend on ol' starky in case his tech isn't reliable when you need it. you gotta know how to take care of situations on your own. can't depend on some random famous billionaire all the time. who knows, let's say he doesn't teach you anything about…guns. and when you're on the battlefield, your limited knowledge just goes in one ear and out the other. literally."
Peter's expression drops under his mask. "You really set up that entire monologue for that pun."
Sans shrugs and grins. "you know me. my track record is off the rails lately. gotta roll back on track." Peter just sighs. He climbs up the wall to peek over the edge, seeing that the bird man is indeed gone.
"Come on!" He hisses. "We gotta get back before May finds out I'm gone." He turns and leaps over a building, pausing to look down at Sans, who's looking at him with a wistful expression.
"—just like pap." Peter thinks Sans mutters, before the skeleton shakes his head and grins up at him. "i'll just follow ya." He says. Peter nods and darts down the alleyway, swinging past rows of apartments and office buildings. He swings past giant billboards, and several times, he sees flashes of white looking down at him from rooftops.
Teleportation must be really handy. Well, duh. Obviously.
A few minutes later, he's home, silently opening the window to his bedroom. Sans appears inside, swiftly shutting the door before, maybe, May just walks in and sees him.
What a thoughtful guy. Something really bad really could've happened there.
He ducks inside, shuts the window and tiptoes to his closet, quickly getting changed.
Footsteps quickly pitter patter down the hall, approaching his room. "Peter? You okay in there?" He hears Aunt May call.
"All good!" He says back, pulling his shirt on and walking out into the room. He sees May's head peeking through the door.
"Peter! Glad you decided to wake up earlier today! Maybe you're finally turning into a morning person." She teases, to which Peter vehemently shakes his head.
"No, no. That's not gonna happen." He says cheerfully, and May shakes her head and laughs.
She opens the door a little more, frowning a bit as she looks at Peter. "Is that…dirt on your face?"
Peter laughs nervously, rubbing the side of his nose as he tries to think of an excuse. "I…was repotting the plant." He gestures out the window, where there's a planter hanging off the side.
May's eyes narrow slightly. "With your hands?"
"…Yes."
They look at each other for a few seconds longer before May just smiles, clearly not believing him, and walks back out.
"heh. spider plant."
Peter hears Sans say from outside the now-open window. "Huh?" He asks, turning around to see the skeleton perched on the branch of the tree outside.
Sans gestures to the sad, drooping plant in the box. "the plant. it's called a spider plant. an interesting coincidence."
Peter laughs, slightly embarrassed as he looks at the dying leaves. "Yeah. I bought it a few months ago because I thought it was funny."
Sans stands up, sending a jolt of fear running through Peter as he carelessly walks across the branch. The thinnest part somehow doesn't break, only bends a little as Sans hops inside the room.
"lookin' a lot more like a web than a spider at the moment." He notes, prodding a leaf with the tip of his finger. Interestingly, when he touches it, the leaf immediately seems a little less sad. Is Peter hallucinating? Probably.
"I'm not good with plants." Peter offers as a wimpy excuse for the damage. Sans chuckles, placing his hand in the dirt. Peter tilts his head as his plant slowly starts to perk up, leaves straightening out and turning a slightly brighter shade of green.
It stops after a few seconds, with another few seconds of Sans staring at the plant before he shifts, standing up and dusting his hand off on his pants. "that's bout as much as I can help it. whether it actually survives is up to you, i guess."
Peter fingers the leaves. "Is there anything you can't do?"
Sans' expression drops a little. "some things." He says. "not much anyone could do about that, bud-dy."
"About what?" Peter questions, curious to learn more about Sans. He can count the amount of things he knows about the distant skeleton's life with one hand. And by one hand, he means one finger. One thing. The fact that he's from a different dimension or something. No details, no other explanation. Nothing.
And even that, he had just assumed, as Sans had never told him outright.
"nothing you gotta worry about, kid. leaf this alone, alright?" Sans grins up at him, but his hands are clenched. Peter frowns back.
"No. Clearly, there's something wrong." He says, warily watching as Sans' eyes go dark. "I know, I'm a hypocrite for saying this, but you gotta tell someone sometime."
Peter is starting to be honestly scared of Sans, with how grim his expression is turning. "I—I mea—I mean, wouldn't you just feel…" He flounders around for something different to say. "…Wouldn't you feel better? Maybe?"
Sans' expression softens a little, but his gaze is hard. Peter finds the courage to put his hand on the skeleton's shoulder, unflinching as he shys away from the touch. "Tell me." He says firmly. "Please." He pleads.
They stare at each other for a few moments, before Sans deflates, tugging his shoulder out from beneath Peter's hand. "jeez, kid. when did you get so demanding?" He shoots Peter a grin, dropping into a cross-legged position on the floor.
He sighs, dropping his head in his hand. Peter cautiously sits down next to him. "can't promise you'll understand anything about this, kid. i don't understand it much either."
"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Peter says flippantly. He—as he finds out later—was very wrong.
Sans definitely keeps the details short and vague, and there's definitely a lot that he doesn't say, but Peter's head is spinning so much by the end of it that he's almost grateful that there aren't so many details.
Such things like: a talking flower, monsters, magic barriers, children, murdery children, time travel—!
"Like a video game?" Peter interrupts when Sans gets to that part. Sans has an amused grin on his face as he cocks his head.
"video game?" He echoes. "what's that?"
"You don't know what a video game is?" Peter is on his feet in a second. "It's like–"
Sans laughs as Peter runs around trying to find an example. "calm down kid. just messin' with ya."
"Sans!" Peter groans as he skids to a stop and flops face down on the bed, nearly banging his head on the wall. He hears more laughing coming from Sans. "Why do you do this to me?" He whines.
"pfft." Sans leans back against the bedpost. "you are so easy to mess with."
"I know." Peter grumbles into the pillow. "I don't even know what's real anymore. A talking flower?"
"had a face and everything." Sans confirms. "pain in the bud."
A hand shoots up from where Peter lay, pointing directly at where Sans is sitting. "That might be your worst one yet."
Sans chuckles. "yeah. they're getting stale, aren't they? gonna have to cook up some new ones."
Peter groans again, slapping a hand to his forehead, where there is an increasingly red spot on it with the amount of times he's done this exact action. "God dammit, Sans."
