"You can do it, darling!" Mettaton called from the back porch. He and Toriel sat on patio chairs, sipping lemonade while Papyrus sweated away in the heat.

Papyrus blushed, for once feeling embarrassed by the attention. It would have been different if he could in fact "do it." But so far no "it" had been done whatsoever!

"We can take a break if ya need to," Sans said. He hadn't broken a sweat, of course. He had Papyrus's tireless body!

"I DON'T NEED A BREAK! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS MORE THAN CAPABLE OF YOUR MAGIC TRICKERY!"

He wished he was as confident as his voice pretended. Regardless, he wouldn't give up! His brother was counting on him!

Sans had explained his theory about shortcuts. This time, he was more detailed than saying he just "felt it in his bones." Apparently his shortcuts worked almost like Papyrus's perfectly normal force-adjusting magic.

"Almost," however, did not appear to be good enough.

He grit his teeth and took off at a run across the lawn. The movement wasn't strictly necessary, but a body in motion tended to stay in motion, and he needed every advantage he could get.

He closed his eyes and focused on his magic. Doctor Alphys had described magic as vibrations that made a monster's physical matter exist in more than one place at once. That wasn't what using magic felt like, though. It felt more like working a puzzle, one where all of the pieces were invisible and wouldn't appear unless slotted together correctly. It was exhilarating, coming up with new combinations of pieces and numbers, watching the fundamental forces of the universe respond to his delicate touch.

That was what magic was supposed to feel like. With Sans's magic, every metaphysical jigsaw had been replaced with a tangled knot of yarn. That was a puzzle in itself, but not the type he wanted to solve! If he somehow ensnared himself in Sans's magic…

Well, Papyrus was no stranger to how dangerous this type of magic could be. If Sans had remembered Dad today, Papyrus doubted he would have attempted this experiment.

It was best that Sans didn't remember, then. Papyrus had to learn how to shortcut. Then he could reverse whatever Sans had done, and he could finally have his body back.

"Um, Papyrus, where are you—" Sans called out.

Papyrus was still running. Their backyard was large, but he couldn't run forever without hitting the neighbor's wooden fence.

"I AM EXACTLY WHERE I WANT TO BE, BROTHER!"

He clutched Chara's locket to his chest, took hold of a skein of magic, and tugged.

...And he was still running. And not plowing face-first into a fence. That was good. Papyrus trusted Chara's magic locket, but it would still be best to avoid injuring Sans's body as much as possible.

Papyrus was supposed to be the responsible one. Sans's body was still rubbing off on him!

He skidded to a stop, skull swiveling to take in his surroundings. He hadn't actually focused on a destination for his "shortcut." It had been more instinctive than anything, which made sense considering Sans's instructions.

"I SUPPOSE I FELT SOMETHING IN MY BONES," he mused, one second before he felt something on his bones.

OW!

The neighbor's large black dog had chomped down on his tibia. Dogs were annoying at the best of times, but in Sans's body—

"F-FETCH!" He managed to screech, hurling a bone attack into the neighbor's pool.

Blessedly, the dog let go of his leg and chased after it.

"Papyrus!" Sans was vaulting over the fence. Mettaton blasted a hole through the wood behind him, and Toriel followed on their heels.

"I'M ALRIGHT!" Papyrus forced a grin. Did he dare check his HP? He felt dizzy, but—but that was just from the shortcut, right? Or from the dog's awful smell, maybe.

He was fine. His leg was fine! He did not just put Sans's body in danger because he was so impatient to return to his own superior form!

"Please, allow me." Toriel stepped past Sans, who was bleached with shock.

Her paw came to rest over Papyrus's tibia, and suddenly he no longer felt like his bone was on fire.

"THANK YOU," he said, though he couldn't meet her eyes.

He couldn't meet any of their eyes, not even Mettaton's. He could only blame so much of his carelessness on Sans's instincts. No, Sans was never this careless. He couldn't afford to be. If it hadn't been for Chara's locket and Toriel's healing…

"Let's get you out of here before that beast comes back." Mettaton knelt to scoop him into his arms.

In that moment, though, Papyrus flinched away. His boyfriend shouldn't have to clean up his mistakes.

Mettaton looked confused. Hurt, even.

"I'm sorry, sugarskull—"

"NO. I'M SORRY," Papyrus interrupted.

He didn't feel great at all. He could hear the dog splashing in the pool, neighbors shouting from the house. His brother's bones rattling as he stared at Papyrus with blank sockets.

Papyrus wished he were anywhere else but here.

And then, he was.

He was lying on his racecar bed, staring up at the ceiling. He'd shortcutted again. Again, just minutes after screwing up the first time!

He pulled his pillow over his face, but didn't allow himself a scream. He had to do better. He had to be better! Sans was… Sans was counting on him…

Like a deflated whoopee cushion, his remaining energy leaked out.

Tears left salty streaks on his cheekbones as he slept.

XXX

The bones of Sans's clenched fists ground against each other like nails on a chalkboard. How could he have been so stupid?

Well, that was an easy question. He was Sans. "Stupid" was practically his middle name, right up there with "Selfish" and "Sucks."

"He's sleeping," Mettaton said after peeking through Papyrus's door.

"Figures," Sans muttered. His pathetic body couldn't hold up for even a few hours.

"It's hardly his fault." Mettaton frowned.

Sans shook his head. "Sorry. Not what I meant."

Mettaton's expression softened a little. "I'm just glad he's alright. If anything had happened to him…"

"Yeah." Sans's voice cracked. "You'd kill me. I know."

"What? No, Sans-darling, that's not what I meant, either." Mettaton squeezed his shoulder. "Besides, I have the feeling you would punish yourself more than anyone else could."

Sans grimaced. Clearly he hadn't punished himself enough. If he had, he would've figured out how to fix this mess himself. Instead he'd wasted his time going on dates and enjoying his newfound energy, assuming Papyrus would be fine like he always was.

"I know we both worry. It's what family does," Mettaton continued. "He's probably worried about disappointing you, too."

Sans didn't see how that could be possible. Papyrus had managed to shortcut with less than a day of practice. Even after Sans had come across the ability on accident, he'd spent weeks trying replicate it. Then he'd gotten stuck in walls more often than not. Papyrus had not only made it through the fence, but he'd made it to his room with no problem.

"Great. So now he's worried for no reason."

"That seems to run in the family, too," he replied wryly. "I'm going to make sure he has something healthy to eat when he wakes up. Why don't you tell Toriel that we found him? She's probably done repairing the fence by now."

He should. Toriel didn't need to worry; Sans was doing enough of that on his own. But he couldn't bring his feet to move.

"If you don't want to leave him alone, I understand," Mettaton said quietly. "Just take care of yourself too, darling. That's what will make Papyrus happier than anything."

Mettaton left, his metal footsteps echoing down the stairs.

As soon as he was gone, Sans peeked inside again, as if Papyrus would have disappeared when he wasn't looking. Now that he could shortcut, that was more than just a paranoid worry.

But he was still there. The only difference was that he was now sitting up, staring straight at Sans.

"Uh," Sans said dumbly. Papyrus had heard all that, hadn't he.

"COME IN, BROTHER." His voice was quiet.

Sans did. He sat at the foot of the racecar bed, his legs too long to dangle properly.

"Sorry. Didn't mean tibia bother," he mumbled.

Papyrus groaned. "IF YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE A HORRIBLE PUN, YOU AT LEAST NEED TO PAIR IT WITH YOUR INSUFFERABLE GRIN! OTHERWISE IT'S JUST… SAD."

Sans forced a grimace that might have been mistaken for a grin, if Papyrus was blind in both sockets.

"That's me. Sans Sad the'Skeleton."

Papyrus snorted, but then he stared down at his hands. They were tangled in his gray covers.

"METTATON WAS RIGHT, YOU KNOW. YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING. I'M THE ONE WHO LET YOU DOWN… AGAIN."

"Huh? You gotta work on your eavesdropping skills, 'cause he definitely didn't say that."

"MAYBE NOT, BUT IT MUST BE WHAT HE MEANT." He slumped back against the headboard. "I FAILED TO KEEP YOUR BODY SAFE. I'VE BEEN MORE RECKLESS THAN YOU EVER HAVE. PLUS HE KNOWS I—I CAVED AND ATE GREASE YESTERDAY."

Papyrus admitted that last bit in a whisper, as if it were the greatest sin of all.

"Bad taste isn't a crime."

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" Papyrus threw his arms in the air. "I THOUGHT I COULD HELP YOU. I THOUGHT THAT IF I WAS YOU, I COULD DO EVERYTHING… BETTER. THAT IF I JUST TRIED HARD ENOUGH, I COULD IMPROVE YOUR HEALTH. HOW EGOCENTRIC IS THAT? TO ASSUME YOU WEREN'T TRYING HARD ENOUGH YOURSELF…"

Sans blinked at the disgust in Papyrus's voice.

"I don't try that hard," he said.

Honestly, he'd kind of thought Papyrus could fix him, too. For someone without Determination, Papyrus couldn't be stopped when he put his mind to something. Such an easy fix was too good to be true though.

"OF COURSE YOU DON'T! EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR BODY PROHIBITS TRYING! I JUST WANT TO SLEEP, AND SNACK, AND SLEEP SOME MORE!"

"Uh. Sorry?" Sans grimaced. "Maybe you should go back to sleep. I mean, some of that's probably your leg still healing."

Sans wished he could see the damage, but Papyrus's legs were fully covered by the comforter. Besides, Sans trusted Toriel's healing magic. Papyrus would be fine.

He had to be.

"MY LEG FEELS FINE," Papyrus said, and Sans couldn't tell if he was lying. "PLEASE JUST LET ME FINISH APOLOGIZING!"

"You were apologizing?"

Papyrus bit down on his glove and screamed. Sans couldn't help grinning a little. His brother was just so easy to rile up—and if he felt good enough to be annoyed, then he really was fine.

"I'M APOLOGIZING FOR BEING ANGRY WITH YOU!" he finally burst.

"You're apologizing for that?" Sans stared. "I'd get it if you said sorry for nearly getting my leg bit off. But being angry? Bro, I trapped you in a body that craves sleep and grease. Of course you're mad at me."

"BUT I DON'T WANT TO BE!" Papyrus scooted forward. He was still covered by the blankets, which bunched up as he moved to clasp Sans's hand. "MY FRUSTRATION HAS MADE ME RECKLESS. I CAN'T AFFORD TO HURT YOUR BODY JUST BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE IN IT. ESPECIALLY WHEN I PROMISED TO PROTECT YOU."

Oh. So he was apologizing for the leg thing.

"'S fine. I trust you." Sans's smile was real this time. "I mean, look at you. If I'd taken a hit like you did, I'd be— "

He cut himself off. Talking about getting dusted probably wouldn't ease Papyrus's worries.

Papyrus frowned, clearly getting the point anyway.

"THAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ME. CHARA GAVE ME A PROTECTIVE CHARM."

"Really? Huh. I'll have to thank 'em for charming ya."

"SANS!" Papyrus huffed. It was music to Sans's ears.

"Heh. I guess I should, uh, apologize too." He scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry for gettin' you stuck in my defective body. And for throwing all the responsibility on you to fix it. I'll put a little more backbone into getting you back to normal."

Sans would go back to being exhausted and fragile, but that was fine. He was used to it. At least he now knew for sure that it wasn't just a lack of motivation.

"APOLOGY ACCEPTED!" Papyrus pulled Sans into a tight hug.

He didn't think his apology was good enough to deserve that, but he felt comforted anyway.