Crouching Fish, Hidden Skeleton

Chapter 4: Crouching Fish, Hidden Skeleton

Sometimes, Sans found himself wishing for a clock.

It wasn't as if clocks were hard to come by in the Underground. Far from it, actually. However, most of the clocks had different times, and since there was no real way to see the sun it was rather difficult to tell which clock had the right time, so most monsters went without one. Or at least, the ones that Sans knew. He wouldn't mind having one every now and then, just to have something to fill the silence. However, the more that he thought about it the less that he actually wanted one. The very last thing that he wanted was yet another plastic reminder of the passage of time. He sighed quietly and leaned his head back against the wall, eye sockets half lidded as he stared at the lump on the couch.

Frisk (anomaly, that's all they are ) lay slumbering on the sofa, curled up in a tight little ball under one of Papyrus's spare small red blankets. They just looked so… tiny. He mused quietly to himself for a while, wondering precisely how something so small could have possibly wreaked so much havoc in another life. Sans stared through the dark at them, his eye sockets drooping tiredly. He really was starting to wish for the ticking of a clock, something, anything to fill the awful silence. He hid a yawn and tried to make himself more comfortable, not taking his gaze off of their unmoving form. It was all such an obvious act. He couldn't afford to take his eye sockets off of them, not even for a moment. It was only a matter of time before they waited until he was asleep and closed their grubby little fist around the first sharp object that they found and resumed what they started. They couldn't fool him. He knew what nobody else remembered. He knew what they were, really. A murderer.

Just like me.

That thought always came with a dilemma. Was he really any better than them, after all was said and done? They both remembered things that nobody else could. They could both do things that nobody else could, see the world the way that it really was when everyone else was blind. And to a certain extent, they could both manipulate the world around them. Technically, they could live without… consequence.

That thought was a highly disturbing and unpleasant one, and wouldn't quite let itself be brushed aside easily. He knew for a fact that living without consequence… changed a person, and not in a good way. He had witnessed it, lived it once. The memory of his actions would haunt him for the rest of his life. He shivered a little, closing his weary eye sockets and trying to clear his mind. He let out a quiet sigh as he reclined against the wall, sinking into himself as he listened to the quiet ticking of a clock-

I don't have a clock.

Sans jolted awake, uncertain of how long he had been asleep and mentally kicking himself. The word paranoid bounced eagerly around his head. He was just so damned tired. He glanced for Frisk immediately, noting that they had shifted in their sleep to lay on their side, knees pulled up tightly to their chest as they shivered beneath the blanket. Sans slowly pushed himself up off the floor and stood to his (not very impressive) full height, staring down at the child curled up on his couch. He picked up some of the popcorn from the floor and tossed it to their pet rock before shaking his head and returning to stand before the human. His fists clenched and unclenched before he stuck them in his pockets, letting out a quiet sigh through his teeth. Then he walked away, starting for the kitchen. The image of them lying there shivering, with that soft, pained expression on their sleeping face wouldn't leave him, though. He stood there for almost a full minute, contemplating deeply.

Eventually, he returned to Frisk with one of his spare blankets, draping it over their small sleeping form. He gave them a single pat on the head before turning and leaving them, skeletal eyebrows furrowed as he set about making coffee in the kitchen. It was something to distract himself. He didn't want to think about how miserable and freezing Frisk (anomaly, anomaly goddammit) was in their sleep, didn't want to look into his actions. He didn't care about them. He was just doing the good thing, like Papyrus would have done. He was being a good samaritan. That was all. Sans poured himself a cup of coffee and added far too much sugar, dropping into the kitchen chair and sighing heavily.

What was he doing .

He had the anomaly in his house. This mass murdering thing being this close to him, this close to his brother made him supremely uneasy. And yet, it was growing steadily harder and harder to feel any kind of fear about them the longer that he mulled over it. They were just so small. But Sans knew better than most not to let size deceive him. He drank deeply from his coffee, letting the warmth wash down his throat and he let out another quiet sigh. He slowly let his head hit the table, bouncing off of the wood with a soft thunk, thunk, thunk.

The freakin' anomaly was on his couch .

"What am I doing," Sans muttered to no one, closing his aching eyes. "What in the actual fuck am I doing with my life."

As if in answer from the universe itself, Sans heard a loud rapping at the front door. Sans sighed again, wondering who would bother at this time in the morning. He checked himself over, glancing to his worn slippers, his slightly torn jacket, the stain on his shirt and his shorts wearing thin.

Presentable enough.

Sans groaned and pushed himself out of the chair, dragging himself with scraping feet to the front door to silence the knocking.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled as he pried open the door. "You know, knock knock jokes are usually a lot funnier when-when… uh… Uh."

"Uh?" Undyne stood before him with her hands on her hips, armor gleaming in the dim light. "Man. Your knock knock jokes are getting worse every day."

"Undyne," Sans tried to say as casually as he could, pulling the door a little closer and doing his absolute best to ignore the panicked screaming inside his head. "Good morning. What's the trick, fish stick?"

Undyne gave him a level glare, her eye narrowing.

"You mind telling me why you and Paps weren't at your posts yesterday?" she glowered down at him, crossing her arms. Sans resisted the urge to draw the door closed a little further, struggling to steady his breathing.

Don't fuck up. Don't let her see. For the love of god don't fuck up. Just please do this one thing right oh god don't fuck up don't make me kill her don't fuck up you can do this oh god just don't fuck up-!

"Paps is… sick," Sans lied instantly. "Not feelin' too well, I've been takin' care of him."

"Since when do skeletons get sick?" Undyne stared at him suspiciously.

"Skeletons don't have immune systems to fight off germs," he shrugged simply.

"Well, how am I supposed to know how weird ass skeleton biology works?" she grunted at him.

"He-he just needs some hot soup and bed rest," Sans tried to keep is voice from cracking, the panic clawing its way through his chest. His fist was squeezing tightly against the door frame so badly that he was shaking despite his best efforts to remain still.

Don't fuck up. Don't let her see them. Don't fuck up. Whatever you do, don't fuck up.

"Just, uh…" Undyne's arms dropped to her side, and she deflated visibly. Sans tried not to show just how relieved he was too see her backing down. "Just tell him to get better already. And that's an order! That punk missed training this morning. He never misses training."

"He'll be up and about like it was nothing in no time," Sans said, sweating heavily. "He'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, he'd better!" Undyne harrumphed. "I'm gonna get that nerd some super soup, not any of that crap in a can you're probably feeding him. Be back in like an hour punk, gotta go talk to a friend real quick!"

"Yeah that's-that's great-!" Sans started to call after her, a half formed pun about souper soup on his tongue before he dropped it, quietly closing the front door behind him as he retreated inside. He gave a shaking, breathy sigh of relief as he sank against the door and down to the floor, clutching his aching chest. That was… terrifying, for lack of a better word. Not just that Undyne was here, not that she had nearly seen his little secret. But if she did?

Sans was scared senseless from the fact that he knew; he wouldn't have even thought about it, wouldn't have hesitated killing her where she stood.

Sans stared over at the slumbering human in disgust, utterly oblivious to the danger that they had narrowly avoided. Sans's mind was flying at a hundred miles an hour, his soul hammering in his chest. He had very nearly killed his boss, his friend. And for what? To prevent her from finding out about his dirty secret? To protect Papyrus's precious image? To save his own (heh) skin? And, if he had been forced to kill Undyne…?

Well.

He wouldn't have a choice but to… reset .

"What am I doing," he let the back of his head hit the wooden door as he groaned miserably. "What in the actual fuck am I doing with my

life."

God, he really was repulsive. He was considering slaughtering a child in their sleep because he made a mistake. Sans rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, forcing himself to stand and dragging himself to the kitchen. He started to reach for his coffee before shrugging and turning to one of the cabinets, reaching all the way into the back and drawing his fist out with the neck of a glass bottle, full to the brim of amber liquid. He poured some of Grillby's best cider out of the bottle and into his half empty mug, replacing the bottle and drinking heavily. He let the warmth spread through his bones, letting out a quiet sigh. He had very nearly killed them, just to save himself, and god how he loathed himself. He couldn't think of them wearing that face, that sad little stare full of mercy. He had to think of them as the anomaly. Not… not anything else. Not some dumb little brat that nobody would miss. Not as a living, breathing, thinking, feeling creature. Not as a person. Not as a helpless ten year old kid.

That you nearly butchered in their sleep.

"Sans?"

Sans jolted and spun on the spot, cheeks lightly dusted as he stared down at the human. They stood with the little blanket draped over their shoulder, rubbing their eyes sleepily as they stared at him clutching his chest.

"Christ on a bike, kid," Sans gave a weak laugh, rubbing his chest.

"Good thing I'm a skeleton, you almost gave me a heart attack . You're quiet as a cat sometimes, you know that?"

Frisk shifted uncomfortably and danced from foot to foot, frowning and rubbing their stomach. Sans let out a quiet breath through his teeth, rubbing the back of his head with his spare hand as the guilt began to dig its way through his middle.

"Hey," he said after a moment. "You, uh… you hungry, kid?" Sans placed his mug on the table, digging around in the refrigerator for a moment. "C'mon, grab a seat. They've got legs, but I'm pretty sure they're not gonna walk away or anythin'. Let me know if they do."

Frisk silently crawled up onto one of the wooden chairs, blanket pulled around their shoulders as they watched him busy himself about the kitchen. He dropped a couple slices of bread in the beaten up toaster, making bacon and eggs as he worked.

"You know," Sans said after a stretch of silence, flipping the bacon while he cooked. "Something always bugged me about bacon. I mean, you cook bacon, but you bake cookies. How weird is that?"

Frisk tittered lightly, and just from hearing the sound, he felt a little… lighter, just a bit. He even gave a tired whistle as he listened to the sound of the clock-

Sans shook his head fiercely, forcing himself to focus. There was no clock. He was starting to lose it. Sleep deprivation, maybe. It was making him hear things that weren't there. He could still hear it, somewhere. That soft little clicking noise, almost like bone. He tried to ignore the word crazy pushing itself to the forefront of his mind. After a little bit he heard a heavy thumping of someone barreling down the stairs, and he turned on the spot to see a pajamad

Papyrus clutching the doorway, panting with wide eye sockets.

"Where is it?" Papyrus blurted, head whipping back and forth. "What's on fire?"

"Nothing's on fire," Sans grinned up at him. "I'm making breakfast."

Papyrus only gawked at him for a few moments before rolling up his pajama sleeve and pinching his forearm.

"… Is this happening?" Papyrus stared at him blankly. "Because this can't be happening."

"What?" Sans frowned slightly.

"This," Papyrus threw out an arm to the kitchen. "Since when can you cook?"

"I can cook," he replied a little too defensively, smacking the spatula to his chest and adding to his collection of stains. "I cook all the time. I'm a great cook!"

"Sans, the only thing I've ever seen you 'cook'," he made air quotes with a deadpan. "Is a water sausage on a paper plate. Since when do you cook?"

"Who do you think used to cook for you when you were a babybones?" Sans scoffed.

"You know full well I don't remember that," he crossed his arms, and Sans cringed.

"R-right. Sorry, bro."

"Nyeh. Don't worry about it, brother," Papyrus sighed quietly before taking a step and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Breakfast smells fantastic, you're doing great, Sans."

Sans turned so that his brother wouldn't see the dusting of blue crossing his cheeks. Papyrus complimented people all the time, but hearing genuine praise from his brother always seemed to get to him. He cleared his throat and focused on making breakfast, setting a plate of fresh eggs and bacon before them at the table. Papyrus sat between him and Frisk, and Sans sipped quietly at his 'coffee' as Frisk looked uncertainly back and forth between them. Almost like they were waiting for permission or something. He just gestured at them to eat, and they wasted no time in tucking in to their meal, wolfing it down like it would be pulled away from them if they didn't eat fast enough. There again was that unpleasant feeling in the back of his mind, but he brushed it away.

Papyrus was still eating when Frisk had finished early, swallowing their last bite and nodding gratefully to Sans.

"… Thank you," they said simply, and he shrugged.

"Hey, it's just breakfast. That's, like, the third most important meal of the day. Next to lunch. And brunch. And supper. And dinner. And lupper. And linner. And dunch, and brepper-"

"Sans oh my god," Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nostril bone as Sans chortled to himself.

"Am… am, um, am I-I allowed to ask a question…?" Frisk asked after a few moments of silence as Sans sipped at his coffee.

"Of course you are, little one," Papyrus said in a tone much softer than Sans was expecting from him with a little smile. "What is on your mind, tiny human?"

"Um. B-baby… bones…?" they looked up at him with confusion plain on their features. Papyrus only chuckled and shook his head.

"Well, of course!" he replied chipperly. "Big skeletons used to be little skeletons. Didn't you know that? That's just basic science."

"Um… what-what is it that you don't remember?" Frisk asked curiously, turning their fork around their plate. "What was that all about?"

Sans and Papyrus shared an extremely uncomfortable look, and Sans only shook his head before placing his coffee on the table slowly. Papyrus grunted in annoyance and slid a coaster underneath it when he wasn't looking.

"Paps had an… accident when he was a kid," Sans shrugged. "That's all you need to know."

"What kind of accident?" Frisk blinked, kicking their little legs back and forth. He wanted to sigh again. They really did have all the tact of a ten year old, and the longer that he let that thought sink in the harder and harder that it got to think of them as just the anomaly. Neither of them answered and Frisk seemed supremely unsatisfied, but that didn't stop them from helping Papyrus with the dishes. He peeled off his gloves and Frisk stood on their tiptoes to hand him dishes, beaming toothily up at him to show that they were helping. Papyrus's face softened a bit and he patted them on the head, humming a familiar tune that Sans could have sworn he'd heard a few times in Waterfall as he busied himself. Sans just lost himself in the rest of his drink, letting it warm his aching bones. For just a while, he could just… be. Let everything sink in. It still seemed so surreal to have Frisk (human? Anomaly?) in his home, helping his brother with the dishes and chatting happily with him about some spaghetti recipe. He wasn't even listening at this point, just resting his head in his hands and thinking. It really was completely bizarre. What kind of game were they playing at? What was the point? Where was the purpose?

But Sans's mind was inevitably drawn back to the marks on their arm. The puncture wounds, the bruises, the cuts, the burns. A light chill began to roll down his spine as a new, very unpleasant thought occurred to him.

If that was just their arm…

What did the rest of them look like?

He just swirled the last of his drink before downing it, delighting in the warmth in his bones. He could finally relax, somewhat, for just a little bit. He could let the drink chase his thoughts away, and just pretend that things were normal.

Sans's eye lights narrowed to pinpricks as they heard a resounding boom echo through the house. Sans suddenly felt much, much smaller as he heard the familiar shouting, and he could not mentally kick himself enough.

Oh. Right. An hour. Man I need a clock.

"Alright, nerds!" Undyne bounded into the kitchen with a burst of cold wind, grinning widely. She wore a brightly colored green sweater with a little smiling fish sewed onto the front, wearing jeans with something in her pockets. "Get ready to chug get well soup 'til you puke, 'cause today-! Uh… t-today…"

Undyne froze up suddenly as she stared at the little human quivering in their seat, struggling to hide behind their blanket. Sans was off his chair in a split second, magic rushing through his body and into his head, a flash of blue almost blinding him as a spear went tearing through the air directly at Frisk's face-

And then she paused.

The long, conjured fibula with a sharpened, jagged end blocked her windpipe, and she gawked in dull shock at her attacker. Sans wasn't even certain of how to process what he was witnessing.

Papyrus was stopping her.

Papyrus .

"Undyne. Buddy," Papyrus said in a calm tone, right eye twinkling with a dangerously burning orange fire. "Do the smart thing. Don't ."