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The ride back home was a swift and quiet one.
Frisk looked on through the backseat of Papyrus's bright red sport's car, witnessing people milling about outside their homes. Toriel and Papyrus had rushed out of the school's parent teacher conference bare seconds after the power had gone out, and from the looks of it nearly every other house in town was out of power at the same time. Papyrus's knuckles were tight on the steering wheel, and hardly anyone dared breath to break the silence.
"... Um, Papyrus? Is... is everything okay?" Frisk asked at last as Papyrus turned a corner. Both he and Toriel shared a look, the brief sort of look that adults tended to share around Frisk when they didn't particularly feel like keeping her in the loop.
"Everything is going to be peachy," Papyrus said without much conviction.
"So what's going on?" she pressed, folding her hands in her lap and leaning forward between the two. "Why did we have to leave all of a sudden? Is something happening? Did something already happen? What happened to the power? Is everyone in the city out of electricity? How-"
"Oh my goodness, my child," Toriel let out a weak chuckle. "I don't think I've ever heard you so talkative. Everything is going to be alright."
Frisk looked between the two, slightly embarrassed, but couldn't manage to glean anything from her observation.
"... Is something about all this about Uncle Sans not coming home for so long last night?"
"Frisk..." Papyrus said through clenched teeth. "I'm sure that this-this power outage is purely coincidental. Sans wouldn't cause – well, not deliberately cause this level of chaos."
Frisk fell silent once again, looking back and forth between the two. They seemed to be keeping something to themselves, she just couldn't quite decipher precisely what without more information.
Toriel seemed to sense her discomfort, and shook her head.
"You have absolutely nothing to worry about, my child," Toriel forced a small smile. "This sort of thing happens all the time in human cities, right? Downed power lines, electricity difficulties-"
"But the whole town all at once?" Frisk mused aloud. "I just think Uncle Sans-"
"Sans had nothing to do with this," Papyrus said dangerously.
Both Frisk and Toriel sat in stunned silence. Neither of them had ever heard Papyrus take that particularly cold tone with anyone, let alone either of them. Even Papyrus himself seemed to catch it a moment too late, shifting uneasily in his seat as they finally pulled into the drive.
"... Forgive me," he cleared his throat after a minute of extremely uncomfortable silence. "I'm just... I'm worried about him."
"As are we," Toriel nodded, the slight already forgiven. "Sans is just as much family to us as he is to you; just remember that we're here for both of you."
Papyrus looked as if a heavy weight were on his shoulders, and he let out a long, drawn out sigh.
"... Thank you, Lady Asgore," he bowed his head. "It's just, he's been so..."
Papyrus mimed shaking something in the air and held his head.
"I'm worried."
"You don't think he's relapsing, do you?"
"I think he's got some bad habits that refuse to die down."
"He has already made so much progress though; perhaps there is something else bothering him that just hasn't cropped up in conversation yet."
"I doubt he'd bring that up in friendly conversation."
"You'd be surprised by how much he tells me."
"And you'd be surprised by how little he tells me," Papyrus huffed.
"I think I get what's going on."
Both Toriel and Papyrus blinked, having forgotten that Frisk was even in the backseat due to her lack of involvement for the last few minutes.
"Uncle Sans... he's not doing so great right now," she frowned, her brows furrowed in thought. "But-but you both still wanna help him, even if you feel like you don't exactly know how."
"Tiny human," Papyrus twisted a little, frowning. "It's not that I doubt your capability, but perhaps this situation is best handled by me and me alone. Speaking of which," he popped open the car door. "I'll talk to him."
Frisk made to follow him, but Toriel shook her head.
"Not this time, my child."
Frisk watched him go, her mind racing.
Just what was going on?
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Papyrus reassured himself again and again that Sans would be laying on the living room couch, one arm draped like always, lazily over the back of the sofa. Probably snoring away, half covered by his jacket. He just had to keep confirming that this was exactly what he was going to find.
At least until he entered the house and Sans was nowhere to be found.
A knot began to twist in Papyrus's stomach as he made for the basement door. He had almost reached it by the time he was interrupted.
"Pssst."
Papyrus blinked, looking about for the source of the noise. To his surprise, Flowey had somehow gotten down from his usual perch on the mantle above the fireplace, sitting glumly in his ceramic pot on the floor.
"Oh! Hello, friend of Frisk," Papyrus forced a smile. "Why are you on the carpet? I'm a bit too busy to play right now-"
"This isn't a game," Flowey frowned, beckoning him forward with one of his leafy little limbs. "Sans is in the basement. Has been for a while now."
Papyrus knelt down in front of the plant as he spoke, an odd expression on his face.
"I assumed as much..." Papyrus let out a sigh through his teeth. He started off for the door, but was stalled yet again.
"H-hey!" Flowey said just as he started to pull open the heavy metal door. "Wait up just a second!"
"I need to make sure Sans is alright," he assured him. "I'll be back in just-"
"Take me with you!"
Papyrus blinked, a little put off.
"Wouldn't you rather stay up here? Out of earshot?" Papyrus said hurriedly and blinked.
"Uh... no?" Flowey stared intently at the skeleton, who was looking back and forth between the flower and the dark basement. "I'm, er... concerned about fatb- I mean, Sans as well."
"Odd," he said slowly. "I was under the impression that you were incapable of emotions."
"Oh, just pick me up already!" Flowey snapped. "I've been dying to find out what's been going on down there every night!"
"You can – wait, every night?" Papyrus repeated. "Sans has been sneaking off to his workshop every single night? I suppose that would explain why he's always so exhausted..."
"Please?" the flower motioned for him. "Just carry me down with you. I need to see this for myself."
Papyrus shifted awkwardly but obliged regardless. At long last he descended the steps to the dark basement, spare flashlight dug out of the kitchen cabinet, watching the shadows clinging to the corners of the stairs. He nearly tripped a couple of times over something rough and hard, which turned out to be what appeared to be scraps of torn metal.
"Sans?" Papyrus called out worriedly, shining the flashlight around with one sweeping motion and tucking Flowey closer to himself with his other arm. "Sans? Sans! Where are you?"
He adjusted the setting of the torch to a brighter spotlight beam, and stood in shock at the sight.
The basement was a complete disaster.
Long, jagged shards of steel stuck rigidly out of one wall, and there was a long, dragging scorch mark on the floor. Papyrus followed the trail with his light, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. It led nearly ten feet away and over to the collapsed figure of Sans against one wall, crumpled into the fetal position and unmoving.
"Oh my god, Sans!"
Papyrus had Flowey securely on the floor in a heartbeat and was numbly shaking his brother in terror the next, burn marks covering a good portion of his body. Several holes had been burned straight through his coat, along with a nasty streak over his right eye.
"Sans! Sans! Oh god, I think he needs CPR!"
Papyrus froze.
"Oh no, I forgot I don't have lips!"
Papyrus's shouting seemed to have done the trick though, as Sans stirred in his grasp. He let out a raspy cough, blinking dully.
"Is something burning in here?" he wheezed, a small puff of smoke escaping his mouth. "Or is it just me?"
"Oh, thank goodness," Papyrus squeezed him tightly to his chest. "You're still acting like a smartass, so you can't be that badly hurt." His tone was lighter, but still tense.
"What happened?" Sans asked, eyes adjusting to the dark.
"That's what I was going to ask you," his brother pulled away, keeping one hand on him to help him stabilize. "I got a call from Alphys, she sounded really worried that you were going to try something dangerous; and apparently, she was absolutely right, what if you'd been killed?"
"I must have accidentally overloaded a circuit," Sans guessed aloud. He dusted himself off uselessly, silently noting that one of his slippers seemed to have been completely singed off.
"Yeah, about that," Papyrus shifted awkwardly, helping him stand. "The power's out."
"I had a feeling that might happen," Sans chuckled. "Don't worry, I've got a backup generator in the garage-"
"No, Sans. I mean the entire city is out of power."
Sans stared.
"Uh..." he shrugged slowly, trying not to grin. "O-oops?"
"Sans," he pinched between his eyes. "Toriel would kill me if I told her you knocked out the town's power."
"So you're... not going to tell her?" Sans tucked his hands into his pockets. He locked eyes with Papyrus, trying to ignore the crawling aching pain in his bones.
"No."
He let out a relieved little sigh to match Papyrus's..
"That's why you're going to tell her."
Sans was slow to let out a weak, almost unheard squeak against Papyrus's jacket that was either apprehension or a determined resignation. He found it much easier to stand with his brother helping him, although there was a sharp pain in his leg that he couldn't quite pin down.
"Oh, come on," Sans threw one out arm to catch him as a support beam banged and fell noisily to the floor behind then. Papyrus's boots clinked loudly against one of the rolling empty liquor bottle. Sans froze in place, pleading, hoping against hopes that no one had heart it, but because the gods themselves seemed to conspire against him on a regular basis with rolling bets as to whom would receive the unlucky draw, Papyrus watched it roll and his expression grew blank as it did so. They shared a sparse look, Sans halfway between an uneasy shrug and Papyrus's face full of worry.
"It was a failure," Sans explained as they trudged upward the the flight of stairs, Flowey once again in the hands of Papyrus. "I didn't expect a reaction like that."
"Alphys... Alphys told me that this-this project of yours," Papyrus rolled the word around his mouth. "Has something to do with dad."
"Did she now," Sans said expressionlessly, giving Flowey an uncomfortably long stare. The flower shifted in his ceramic pot, uncertain of what he had done to draw the skeleton's glower.
"Sans?" Papyrus asked as he helped him over the last step. "You-you are doing something related to what happened to dad, aren't you?"
"Well – you, you see, it's, uh, complicated-"
"Sans," he frowned, setting Flowey back on the mantle, much to the flower's distaste. "I am your brother. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"
"Yeah," Sans resisted the urge to hold his aching leg. "Of course I know, bro."
"Because I think you forget sometimes," his expression softened as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "That no matter how crazy it gets, I'm here for you. And I always will be."
For a brief moment, Sans looked as if he were going to cry.
"I completely understand," Papyrus said after a moment. "I am very cool, and to have such an awesome brother must be slightly overwhelming sometimes."
He shook his head with a slow, small smile, letting out a little sigh.
"Heh. That-that means a lot to me, broseph."
"Now," Papyrus led him aside, away from the prying flower. His voice dropped to barely a whisper, and his brows grew furrowed. "Now that I have a moment and I've made sure you're okay, what in the Sam Hell were you thinking?"
"No, Sans-" Papyrus held up a gloved hand, stopping him in his tracks. "I don't care what you're planning to do with your spare time, if you die I swear to god I'll strangle you!"
"Paps-"
"Absolutely not!" he said in a hurried, hushed tone. "You've been staying awake for days, vanishing off to who knows where at all hours of the night, you're drinking again-"
"Paps," Sans struggled to move out of his brother's iron grip.
"I can't stand it!" his voice slowly rose. "I can't stand seeing you tear yourself apart like this and doing nothing to help!"
"Paps," Sans tried to say.
"I can't stand not knowing if I'm going to wake up and you're going to be dead or not!"
"Paps!"
Papyrus froze, evidently startled by the shout.
"... Yes?"
"You're getting hysterical," Sans said bluntly, carefully pulling his brother's arms off.
"S-sorry."
"Fuhgeddaboudit," he brushed it off, blinking. "Don't worry, Paps. I'm not going to work myself to death anymore."
"You-you're not?" Papyrus perked up.
"Nah," he shook his head. "I've decided that I, uh, might need an assistant for this one."
Papyrus beamed down at him, looking as if Christmas had just come early.
"That's why I'm going to ask Alphys for help."
Some of the light left Papyrus's face.
"Oh," he frowned. "... I thought you needed my help."
"Ah," Sans rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling sore. "It's, uh... kind of a specific set of talents that this job needs. And you know what a mechanical wiz Al is."
"Yes, of course," Papyrus nodded. "Well, at least you're not going to burn the candle at both ends anymore. That's one problem out of the way."
"Not sure what you mean," Sans lied, shifting from foot to foot.
"Sans," Papyrus said dangerously.
Sans found it suddenly hard to look directly at his brother, opting instead to glance toward the front door.
Thankfully, a distraction came in the form of Toriel, closely followed by Frisk.
"Papyrus?" Toriel called into the dark home, eyes adjusting to the light. "You've been a whi- oh my lord, Sans!"
"Hey Tori," he lifted a charred hand limply. "Hey kiddo. What's up?"
"I knew it!" Frisk cheered, running forward and hugging him. "What happened, what happened?"
"I'd like to know that as well," Toriel closed the door behind her, noting that Sans seemed to cringe in pain when Frisk hugged him.
"Well, erm..." he struggled, unable to escape Papyrus's gaze or Frisk's iron grip. "You, uh, know that little project I've been working on for the last few weeks?"
"Yes...?" Toriel nodded curtly, looking between the skeleton brothers.
"It sort of... um. Exploded."
Toriel did not blink. She didn't move, she hardly even breathed.
"Well, that settles it then," she said calmly.
"It-it does?"
"Absolutely," Toriel said with complete conviction. "I'm not letting you work on any more 'projects' in the house ever again."
"Great," Sans deadpanned as Frisk climbed up his back and sat on his shoulder. "Guess I'm heading back to talk to Al after all."
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A/N
Man it takes me forever to write anything halfway decent. Next chapter is on the way. Please leave a review if you liked it! :D
(Or not whatever dudelings I'm not your boss.)