"Today, we're going to do something a little different." Gaster explains.

Papyrus swings his legs as he sits on the couch, watching him raptly. "Are we going to bake something again?"

"No, today—today we're going to play a game."

Gaster reaches out, enveloping the child's small femur in his hand. He squeezes it, and Papyrus barely reacts, the behavior normalized by this point.

"It's a game normally played by adults, but I think you're clever enough that we can start it now."

For such a young boy, he has a bit of an ego; the insinuation that he's mature has him puffing up with pride.

"Really? How does it work?"

"Adults only play this game with "special friends". It's a very private thing. You can't tell anyone about it, even Sans."

Papyrus' face twists in consternation.

"You have to promise me, Papyrus. Or else we can't play."

The boy fidgets with indecision before finally sticking out his pinkie finger towards Gaster.

"You have to shake it. It's a pinkie promise. The most unbreakable of promises!" Papyrus explains, off of Gaster's bemused look. Humoring him, Gaster completes the pinkie promise.

"So how do we play?" Asks Papyrus, eagerly.

Gaster elects to show him, rather than explain. He pulls the boy into his lap. His hands tremble with eagerness as he rucks up Papyrus' shirt.

"Dr. Gaster…?" Papyrus trails off, uncertainly.

"Be silent." Gaster commands him. "There's no speaking while we play the game."

Gaster's hands first ghost along Papyrus' ribs, checking their strength. They're tough, not as fragile as he expected. Despite how they look, these are not the bones found in the average monster's skeleton, but something built to withstand the shocks and pressures skin usually does. Under the light, they even seem to glow.

Gaster's touches draw a few breathless laughs from Papyrus. The gentle tickling then turns into a firm stroking and massaging. Gaster feels his way around the boy's ribs and spine. Papyrus' muffled laughter morphs into stifled gasps and moans.

A spatter of liquid drips onto Gaster's hand. Gaster tugs Papyrus' shirt off, the boy obligingly lifting his arms up. Gaster can now see the boy's soul shimmering within the uppermost recesses of his ribcage. It glows a lovely orange, with strands of deep blue interwoven within.

The soul is the most intimate part of any monster. Gaster wants nothing more than to cup Papyrus' soul in his hands, sweep his thumbs over the pulsating mass, watch Papyrus writhe and moan as his essence drips in Gaster's hands.

But…not yet. Soul protection is an emphasized lesson in childhood. Even Papyrus would be bothered by Gaster making that big of a leap today.

So for now, Gaster contents himself with the meager amount he's been given. He laps up the few drops of magic. It's only enough to give him a hint of his taste, something distinctly Papyrus.

Papyrus cranes his neck to look at Gaster questioningly, wondering why he's paused his ministrations. Gaster wordlessly starts to touch him again. And, instead of trailing upwards, to the boy's vibrant soul, Gaster's hands go lower. He undoes the fastenings on Papyrus' pants, pushing them and his boxers down and out of the way.

Papyrus shivers as he's exposed to the cool air, but soon enough Gaster is warming him again with caresses to his pelvic bone.

"Ah…mmm…that's..." Papyrus lets out a few words before quieting himself again. But Gaster has changed his mind on the rules of the game.

He brings one hand up to tug away Papyrus' own from his mouth, letting him moan and mutter freely.

"No words." Gaster says, lips brushing the side of Papyrus' skull. "But I want to hear your voice."

Gaster's hand strokes him firmly, eliciting mewls from the boy. Gaster peppers kisses on his neck, leaving a faint film of his saliva over the vertebra.

Residue from Papyrus' soul seeps through the spaces between his bones, soaking the front of Gaster's shirt. Gaster pauses once more, drinking in the sight in front of him. Papyrus is staring up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes dim, mind lost in sensation. At the brief lapse in contact, Papyrus whines, hips thrusting up slightly. His body knows what it wants, but he's not quite sure what to ask for.

"Please…" He gasps. "Please…"

"So needy." Gaster scolds him, breathlessly. "Fine, I'll give you what you want."

Gaster fondles Papyrus, stroking and touching and rubbing until the boy reaches his peak. With a strangled cry, Papyrus orgasms, liquid magic bursting free from his soul in every direction.

Papyrus leans back against Gaster's chest, panting with the exertion.

"You did very good for your first time, Papyrus." Gaster praises him. "I'm proud of you."

Papyrus beams up at the doctor. "Nyeh…that felt…very good."

"It's supposed to. And we'll do it again and again and again." He promises this to the both of them.

Gaster hooks one arm below Papyrus' legs and encircles his other around his chest. Gaster stands, cradling the boy tenderly in his arms.

"Are we playing another game now?"

Gaster chuckles. "No, Papyrus."

He carries Papyrus to the bathroom. The skeleton watches from his perch on the shut toilet lid as Gaster fills the tub with lukewarm water. Once the water level is to his satisfaction, Gaster places his charge in the tub. He industrially scrubs at the child's bones, making sure to remove every speck of Papyrus' spent magic. He uses a scentless soap, so this additional bath will go unnoticed by the boy's guardian.

Papyrus splashes happily in the bathwater, as he has undoubtedly done a hundred times before as Sans bathed him.

Gaster hasn't yet come himself. His cock is still stiff and swollen within his slacks, every shift of his body a minor agony as it chafes against the constricting fabric. But he just continues to clean Papyrus, paying it no mind. There's a certain pleasure in being on the edge of climax, but not quite tipping over.

Once Papyrus is cleaned up to his satisfaction, Gaster hands him a fluffy white towel. As Papyrus methodically dries himself off, Gaster retrieves the boy's discarded clothes. Before he takes them back to the child, Gaster brings them to his nose, taking delight in Papyrus' scent.

He helps Papyrus dress and then steers him into the kitchen. He pushes a pastry into Papyrus' hand, and leaves him to munch on the snack while he makes his final preparations for Sans' arrival. The food will boost up Papyrus' magical energy again.

Gaster moves to his bedroom and undresses swiftly. He'd made sure today to wear an outfit he had a double of in case of any mess.

His dick is still hard. He gives it a few squeezes before shoving on the second pair of pants. He wrinkles his nicely-ironed shirt, to look as if he had been wearing it all day.

With his and Papyrus' personal appearances taken care of, all that's left is the living room. Gaster cleans it efficiently, only the slight scent of citrus left to linger.

Afterwards, he collects Papyrus again, and the two discuss the nuances of his language class until Sans arrives. As he waves the duo farewell for the day, a wave of smugness overtakes him. If Sans knew what was going on he would set upon Gaster like a wild beast until he put him down. But Sans is utterly oblivious to the things that have and will happen inside Gaster's home. Sans loves to pull pranks, but one of the most severe deceptions of all is passing right by him.

Gaster returns to his bedroom once they are gone. He roots through a closet filled with fitted turtleneck sweaters and pristine white labcoats, and pulls out a garment carefully wrapped in layers of plastic. Gaster pulls it free of its coverings. It was one of the few possessions he had been able to save from the surface—his beloved's dress. An elegant blue silk, trimmed with lavender lace. Gaster lays it out over the duvet. He kneels down beside the bed, one hand stroking the fabric of the dress while the other cups the clothed erection between his legs. He no longer envisions his long-dead betrothed above him, but instead Papyrus, sweet Papyrus. The boy's moans and whimpers from earlier are repeated back in his mind. He wishes he'd filmed their coupling. He'll have to make a note of picking up the necessary equipment soon.

The image of Papyrus wearing his beloved's dress, flushing beautifully as Gaster lifts it up to fondle his pubic arch, his orange soul dripping with need and want for him—

Gaster buckles against the side of the bed as he comes.

The rush of heady pleasure fades, leaving a hollow void in its wake. He plucks at the fabric of his soiled pants distastefully. Self disgust rips through him, as it often does after an orgasm. He's a monster of logic and reason, but his carnal cravings all too often steer him towards his baser urges. With a sigh, he moves to clean himself up.

"Absolutely not." Says Em, full of maternal disapproval. "It's far too dangerous."

"Look. Clearly, it worked before. Nothing else has worked yet." Sans' gaze slides from Em to Gaster, quietly requesting the Royal Scientist's override. "One chance, that's all I'm asking."

Saul wrings his hands, hating to see his friends at odds.

Em now turns to Gaster too, beseechingly. "Sir, you must agree with me on this."

All of them, even Anton, who was until now pretending not to be listening in on the conversation, look to Gaster expectantly.

"Sans is an adult, capable of making his own decisions." Em's mouth drops open, about to utter further protest. "But, as I said when Sans first joined us; it is senseless to risk his life when there are other avenues still open to us." Ignoring Sans' scowl, Gaster addresses the whole team. "I believe our next step is simply a different approach. We have attempted thus far to be nonthreatening to the beasts, to strike up a kinship. Perhaps we need to use intimidation, as Sans did when shielding his brother."

"Are we going to hurt them?" Asks Saul.

"They aren't real animals. It doesn't matter." Anton says, a bit patronizingly.

"We will intimidate, not harm." Gaster allays Saul's worries. No physical damage will come to the cannons, at least not for the moment. If the new plan fails, then, of course, everything is once again on the table.

"Shall we start with the canine skull first, then?"

Gaster gives Em's question a nod of approval. She glances at Sans. The skeleton has been uncharacteristically silent since his request was denied, and now fiddles absently with a pen, repeatedly taking it apart and screwing it back together again.

"…I'll go prepare the cannon for testing."

With one last concerned glance at Sans—who doesn't notice, focused as he is on the pen—she slithers from the room.

Catching the shift in mood, Anton inclines his head towards the door. "I'll go make sure the new testing room is up to spec." He throws an arm around Saul, hauling the other monster with him. "Saul'll help."

"Oh, o-okay…" Saul agrees, not quite understanding, but going along with Anton anyway.

The door closes behind them, and now Sans and Gaster have been left alone in the room.

"Sans—"

"Don't start." Sans rounds on Gaster angrily. "Just…don't."

"Alright." Gaster says, simply.

Sans is unable to stand the expectant silence.

"I can do it, doc. You don't think I've found my own ways around my HP problem? I don't need to be coddled, I—I don't want favors, or special treatment, or anything like that from you."

"I'm not trying to be a father figure to you. Admittedly, I do see Papyrus now slightly in that light. But it's hard not to feel such a way about someone like Papyrus." Gaster placates Sans with half-truths. "However, I assure you, I have kept the relationship between you and I strictly professional in my mind. We are coworkers, practically equals. And as I've said, in that context, it'd be a gamble to throw you in a room with one of those beasts."

"And what if they don't listen to anyone else?" Sans challenges. "What then?"

"Then I will reconsider you as a tether candidate."

Sans is surprised Gaster would promise him this, even in private. Gaster smiles.

"Did you think I would deny you the opportunity out of some moral principle? This is so much bigger than any of us. The work we do here is meant to benefit all monsterkind."

Gaster considers giving Sans a pat on the shoulder, but assumes the skeleton would misconstrue it as a fatherly gesture. While a small part of him is intrigued by the possibilities presented by molding Sans into a dutiful son, he dismisses the urge. Between his work and Papyrus, he already has enough to occupy his time. So Gaster strides right on past him, to the door.

"Now come. I'm sure the others are anxious to start."

They enter the observation room adjacent to the testing room. Hopefully, the beasts won't lash out again; they only have so many spare testing rooms.

The rest of Gaster's assistants are already waiting for them inside, and are visibly relieved to see Gaster and Sans enter together, clearly no longer at odds. The canine cannon skull sits in the center of the testing room, rattling its teeth with a restless energy.

"Anton, I want you to go in today." Of the three of them, the cat monster makes the most sense. Saul is softhearted, and Em cannot gesture in a dominating manner when she has no limbs to do so.

"Got it, boss."

Anton strides across the room."

"Shoelaces!" Em snaps.

They all look down. Sure enough, the ratty shoelace on one of Anton's sneakers is undone.

"Whoops." He says, devoid of any real care.

Em uses her magic to tie the lace in a firm knot.

"Honestly!"

Anton grins. "Thanks, Em. You're a peach."

The group watches as Anton leaves the observation room and enters the testing room. The beast notices him at once, growling lowly. It has not kept hold of the meek temperament it demonstrated towards Sans.

Anton turns as aggressive as possible. Physically, he straightens from his slouching posture. His fur bristles threateningly, his sharp teeth gleaming and visible. He does not summon forth his magic, but he does exert his magical presence. Even from the room over, they all can feel that there's a significant increase in the weight of the air.

"Come here." Anton growls. He extends his hand.

The cannon is confused by the increase of magical pressure in the room. It drifts towards Anton—curious, cautious, but clearly not cowed.

"I think it's working!" Saul is hopeful, but no one else in the observation room is as optimistic yet. If Em had fingers, she'd be chewing at her nails right now.

The beast comes closer, closer, to Anton's outstretched hand.

"That's right, come on. Get your ass over here."

The beast nuzzles against Anton's palm, getting a whiff of his scent. Everyone relaxes a fraction as it seems to be accepting him.

And then the beast's jaws hinge open wide. Anton hastily retracts his hand, right as its jaws snap shut around the empty air.

"Fucker!" Anton yowls.

Gaster summons a cage around the beast, locking it inside. It bashes itself against the bars, straining to get to Anton. The cat monster flees the room before it starts throwing energy beams again.

Ruffled and disappointed, Anton rejoins the group.

"I think you almost had him." Saul tries to be supportive.

"He almost had me for lunch." Anton fumbles out a cigarette from his pack and lights it. Gaster charitably allows this, considering the monster nearly lost his arm.

Sans eyes Gaster, but the latter won't acknowledge his I-told-you-so look.

"Em," He says, instead. "You're next."

Gaster is pleased when Papyrus shows up for their next meeting with his brother as per usual. In front of Sans, the child acts naturally, displaying not a hint of unease at being left in Gaster's care again. To the boy, their "play" session had been a fun experience, something shared between two close friends, and nothing more.

When they reach the living room, Papyrus digs around in his backpack and pulls out a worn notebook and a stubby pencil. He offers them to Gaster, who only sets them aside on the table. When Gaster grasps at the hem of Papyrus' shirt, though, the boy tries to push him away.

"Papyrus?" There's the hint of a threat in his tone.

"I—there's a test coming up soon. I could really use your help—"

"I've taught you all you need to know." Gaster says, irritable. When it really comes down to it, all it takes is rote memorization to learn a language. "Just study using the methods I've taught you and you'll do fine."

"But—"

"Papyrus." He growls, killing the boy's protest. "You don't want me to get mad now, do you?"

"N-No."

"Then don't disappoint me," Gaster says, leaning closer. "And don't speak."

The following week, Papyrus shamefacedly shows him his monster language test. A failing score is written in blazing red pen across the front page.

Gaster plucks the test from his grasp. Crammed into the corner of the page is a request for a parental signature, an awaiting line underneath it.

"Sans hasn't seen this yet, has he?"

"No. I thought—do you want to talk to him?"

Papyrus squirms on the couch beside him, bracing himself for Gaster's scorn and punishment. But he's baffled when instead Gaster plants a kiss on the crown of his skull.

"Dr. Gaster?"

"You have done well to bring this to me first, Papyrus."

Gaster locates a pen, and signs Sans' name as he remembers it from his hiring paperwork.

"Wowie!" Exclaims Papyrus. "That looks just like Sans'. How'd you do that?"

"If your teacher ever asks for something to be signed, you just bring it to me, alright?"

Papyrus is conflicted. "But, that's lying…"

"It's a secret, Papyrus. We keep secrets between us to protect others, alright? You don't want to see Sans angry or sad because of something you did, do you? He works hard enough without you adding to his troubles, doesn't he?"

Gaster gives the test paper a shake for emphasis. When Papyrus doesn't respond right away, Gaster grabs his chin and forces his head up to meet his gaze.

"Doesn't he?"

"...He does."

"Just do as I say, Papyrus, and everything will be fine."

Papyrus is late.

Gaster paces back and forth in his foyer anxiously, stealing repeated glances through the front windows. It's almost half an hour past their appointed meeting time and Papyrus is not here.

The weather is fair, and Sans mentioned nothing at the end of his shift.

Did Papyrus say something to Sans?

How much did he say—did he just admit to Gaster forging Sans' signature, or to all of it?

What's the best response? In all honesty, he'd never suspected he'd get caught. He'd erased any possible evidence, had groomed Papyrus to be obedient and passive.

But it is now fifty minutes past the appointed meeting time, and Papyrus is not here.

Gaster scrolls once more through his phone and email—still nothing from Sans.

Possibilities run through his mind. He can stay put, deny all of Sans' accusations against him. There's no solid evidence, just the word of a child against that of the Royal Scientist. Asgore would vouch for him—the king thinks he knows who Gaster really is.

But Asgore has always had a soft spot for children, now especially so after the loss of his own. Asgore might not be as much of an ally to him as he once was.

If he absolutely had to, he could always…dust Sans. It would be a waste of a brilliant mind, a true waste. But another application would reach his desk. And Sans would not be the first to die by his hand.

The sudden blare of his phone startles him badly. Gaster takes the call.

"Doc!" It's Sans on the other line. He sounds far from murderous or vengeful; instead, rather apologetic. "I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. I kind of, uh, forgot."

For someone so smart, Sans can be surprisingly dull at times. Gaster pinches the bridge of his nose. "I assume there is a reason neither you nor Papyrus showed?"

"Yeah. Paps caught a bit of a bug in school today."

"Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine," Sans assures him. "He just needs to rest up for a few days. I meant to call earlier, sorry."

"Try not to forget next time. You gave me quite a fright." In more ways than Sans could realize.

"Right." Sans' tone is not as sheepish as it should be. "Sorry again, doc. See you tomorrow."

Sans hangs up. Gaster exhales deeply. Papyrus is merely ill. He had no real cause for alarm. He wills his soul to stop racing so fast.

Over a week passes without contact from Papyrus. When Sans finally drops the boy off at his doorstep, Gaster barely waits for him to leave before he sets upon Papyrus.

They don't even make it out of the foyer. Gaster yanks away the boy's backpack, tossing it out of the way.

"Hey—!" Papyrus' protest is stifled as Gaster kneels down to kiss him, forcing his tongue past unwilling teeth.

When Gaster finally pulls apart for air, Papyrus is panting, face flushed.

"D-Dr. Gaster, wait—" Papyrus paws uselessly at his roving hands.

"Stop fighting me." Gaster slips the child's pants down even as he thrashes. He tightens his grip until it's bruising. He can always heal it later.

Gaster has had a difficult week. Work has been frustrating and fruitless, every attempt to tame the beasts futile. Compounding that was his total lack of contact with Papyrus. He needs this.

"This makes you feel good, doesn't it?" Gaster drags a moan out of him with a press of his knee to Papyrus' pelvis. "So what's the problem?"

"I…" Papyrus trails off, starting to sniffle.

"Don't cry, my pet, don't cry." Gaster swipes up the tears with his thumbs, then sucks up their lingering taste with his tongue. "I'm doing this for you, don't you see that?"

Gaster happens to glance up from Papyrus—and his soul stutters to a stop.

Watching him through the front window is Anton. A stack of papers slip from his grasp as he stares, astonished, at the sight of Gaster and Papyrus.

And then he starts running.

Gaster seizes Papyrus and sets him down on the living room couch.

"Stay here."

"Who is that monster? Are we in trouble?"

"Stay here. If you so much as leave this couch you will regret it."

Papyrus nods submissively, and Gaster storms from the room. He leaves the house at a dead sprint; in the brief seconds it took to move Papyrus, his assistant cannot have gone far.

He spies Anton a bit further down the path. He sees a flash of light—Anton's cell phone.

Gaster sends a magic construct hurtling towards Anton with precise aim—it grazes his hand, forcing him to reflexively drop the phone. Anton hesitates between picking up the phone and continuing on just long enough. Gaster summons a massive hand of ice, his preferred element. It slams down on Anton, pinning him to the ground. As the cat monster struggles to get free, Gaster catches up.

Anton picks his head up as much as he's able. His ears are pinned flat against his head, fangs bared.

"You're a sick fucking freak." He spits. "I can't believe you. How can you do that to a child, to Sans' brother?"

"I don't have to explain myself to anyone, least of all someone who's about to die."

Gaster summons a spear of ice to his hand, and raises it for the killing blow.

Then something wraps around his ankle and jerks his feet out from under him. His head smacks painfully against the ground. Gaster pushes himself up and spots the cause of his fall—magic like spun pink yarn is tangled around his leg. Gaster uses the spear of ice to cut himself free from the strands of magic.

Anton lashes another strand of yarn to a nearby tree. He hauls himself out of the hand of ice, standing once more. His tail lashes angrily behind him.

With a wordless cry Anton summons forth his magic. Yarn winds all around Gaster's body, pinning him in place. A few thick cords lash around Gaster's neck, squeezing the oxygen from his body.

It's such a weak magic, capable of so little. Anton might've found creative avenues of attack with his power if the monster wasn't so lazy with his training. Sloth will be his undoing.

Gaster does not require hand gestures to formulate magic, as novice magic users do. Jagged, enormous icicles fall from the sky, pelting the area around Anton. The cat monster dodges the attacks for the most part, but one manages to slice the back of his shoulder.

Anton hisses, pressing his opposite hand to the wound. He turns to run, to escape Gaster's range, but Gaster is far older and more capable than him. A thick wall of ice materializes, blocking Anton's way. As he whirls back to face his opponent, Gaster sends an icicle sprouting from the ground to pierce Anton's chest, his soul.

To Anton's credit, he does not plead for mercy or cower in fear in his final moments. He keeps up his venomous glower.

"They'll catch you soon enough, you bastard." Anton's voice fluctuates in pitch and power as the dusting process begins. "I can't…wait…to see you…suffer."

Anton dissolves into dust. The magic constraining Gaster disappears. He takes a moment to recover, gasping much-needed oxygen back into his lungs.

He staggers over to Anton's dust pile. It's too much dust to carry in his hands alone.

Gaster hurries back to his house. In his earlier haste, the front door was left ajar. Gaster steps inside, checks the nearby clock on the wall—he has a little more than an hour before Sans arrives again to collect his brother. Gaster could call him, explain that they need an extra hour to go over concepts—but no. He doesn't want to do anything out of the ordinary. The guard will eventually search for the murderer. He needs to arouse as little suspicion as possible. Thus, he'll have to make due with the little time he's allotted.

He checks on Papyrus from afar. The boy has pulled his pants back up to his waist, but is otherwise exactly how Gaster left him. Satisfied, he strides to the broom closet, selecting a dust pan and broom from the arrangement of cleaning supplies. Monster dust, when discovered by another monster, is traditionally collected by a relative in a special pan. Anton's dust will have to make due with the same pan he uses to brush up dirt from his front porch.

Gaster returns outside to Anton's remains. He sweeps up all the dust he can in the pan, and scuffs the ground to disturb any remaining grains. Thankfully, all of Gaster's magic shatters upon contact with the earth; otherwise, there would be gaping holes in the ground where the icicles crashed down, which would be rather difficult to explain away.

Gaster walks to the nearby river, careful not to spill any dust from the pan. When he reaches the riverbed, there's not another monster in sight, this far from New Home. Gaster dumps Anton's remains in to the river, and watches the particles mix with the water and go rushing away.

He doesn't watch too long, though. There's more to be done. Gaster returns to where they had fought, and searches until he finds Anton's cell phone. Sans' contact information is pulled up—he was probably about call him before Gaster interfered.

Gaster returns to the front of his house, and snatches up every piece of paper he can find. Some of the pages have probably scattered in the wind. For now, there's nothing he can do about that.

Gaster places the collected papers and cell phone in his basement. He'll dispose of them later. He has just enough time remaining to deal with Papyrus.

The boy glances up as he strides into the room, but says nothing yet.

"I need you to listen to me very carefully." Gaster says, lowly. "There were no other monsters here today besides the two of us. I was with you the entire time. Understand?"

"But—the other monster—where did he—?"

Gaster grabs Papyrus by the shoulders and gives him a firm shake. Papyrus flinches at the wild look in his eyes.

"There was no other monster." Gaster reiterates. "Just, you, and me, in here, studying. Is that clear?"

As Sans said, Papyrus is not stupid. The gears turn in his head, and the lights in his eye sockets quiver with horror as he realizes why Gaster would need an alibi.

"No. You didn't—you didn't hurt him—"

"If you tell anyone—the guard, your brother, anyone—there will be consequences. I will take Sans from you."

"S-Sans is the strongest m-monster ever! He'd beat you!"

Just then, the doorbell rings. Speak of the devil.

Gaster tightens his grip on Papyrus.

"Are you willing to take that chance? To gamble with your brother's life? He's a 1 HP monster, after all. One hit and he'd be dust, and it'd be all your fault."

Papyrus' breath hitches. The doorbell rings again.

Gaster stands.

"Now. Make yourself presentable."

Papyrus miserably smoothens out his clothes and collects his backpack as Gaster opens the door for Sans.

"Yo."

"I apologize for the wait. We were just finishing up a rather long lesson. Weren't we, Papyrus?"

The boy says nothing, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Gaster nudges him, perhaps a bit too harshly.

"Papyrus."

The boy snaps to.

"Yes! It was tough at first but I think I've got it now." His voice is so bright, not wavering on a single syllable. Threatening his brother seems to be a proper motivator.

Papyrus crosses to Sans' side, latching onto his brother's hand. Sans, more than used to his brother's tactile nature, thinks nothing of it.

For once, Gaster is relieved to see Papyrus go. After he shuts the door behind the skeleton brothers, Gaster selects a savory scotch from his liquor cabinet and settles down to drink.

He tips the glass back, swirls the amber liquid in his mouth. He can do this. He just needs to be very, very careful in these coming weeks. Gyftmas is coming up in a little over a month. The guard will want to wrap up Anton's death as an open-and-shut case so they can stay home with their families for the holidays. He just needs to act naturally, be smart, and this will all blow over.

Gaster drains his glass quickly. There's more work to be done.