Half Baked
Chapter 36: Half Baked
"And… what is this for?"
"That is a poop scoop, Undyne," Blake responded blankly.
"Why do humans scoop their poop?" Undyne dropped the plastic instrument in disgust.
"It's for pets," he explained.
"How are pets supposed to use it?" she scoffed with equal parts disbelief.
"Human Blake!" Papyrus bounded across the supermarket aisles, scaring the living daylights out of a woman picking up cabbages. The brunette screamed and bolted, dropping the vegetables all over the tiled floor. "You won't believe it, they have so many noodles here!"
"Toss that in the cart too, I guess," he shrugged when Papyrus dumped an armful of noodle boxes with some difficulty into the shopping cart, an assortment of items already spilling out the sides. "Man. We've, uh. Kind of gone a little… overboard with the shopping. Don't you think?"
"Nonsense!" Papyrus crowed, holding up a box of noodles victoriously. "The Great Papyrus will buy everything that they have!"
Blake sighed quietly to himself, braced nervously and watching as Toriel quietly explained to a curious and shocked old woman about monsters coming above ground. It was definitely going to be a long day.
"… C'mon, kiddo," Sans said for the fifth time. "C'mon. Get up. Please?"
Frisk wouldn't answer him.
"Come on. Please. Please, baby. Come on, babybones," Sans petted their hair softly. "C'mon. Just talk to me. Please. I'm beggin' you here, kiddo. Don't leave me hangin'."
They just sat limply in his lap, clinging to him with their arms draped around his neck, face buried in his chest, their little shoulders shaking silently. He was pretty sure that they were all cried out by this point. He was, too. So they simply sat on the kitchen floor, holding each other for a long while. He wished that they would say something. Anything. He didn't care what anymore. The thought of them returning to that deathly silence was unbearable, it was physically painful . And it was his fault too, he shouldn't have panicked like that, he was a stupid, loud drunk. He just wanted them to say something. They wouldn't speak though, not even to him anymore.
How long had it been?
It felt as though it had been hours, but he was still severely drunk and his sense of time was a little skewed. That was nothing out of the ordinary though. What even was ordinary anymore, though? He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything. Not right now. He just wanted to be numb. He wanted to stop feeling things for a while. He was so tired. So drained.
"… Hey," he said after a long while. "Baby. Babybones," he gently shook them a little, but they still didn't let go. "C'mon. Whaddya say we get off the cold floor, huh?"
Frisk didn't respond.
They didn't reject the idea, either, so that was a plus.
They just held on to him.
They needed him.
A part of him quietly addressed the fact that being needed at all was… something that he wasn't entirely certain how to handle.
Something he wanted, and didn't even know what to do with it. Maybe he could tackle that particular train of thought later. When he was sober and less prone to stupid decisions. Like he had been making one after another. But he wasn't going to make any bad decisions right now, he refused to. No need to worry about something that wasn't happening.
"C'mon, little babybones," Sans rumbled softly as he gradually stood, picking up Frisk in his arms as he did so. They were so frail, so thin, so light. They felt so fragile to him. They were limp in his arms even though they clung to him weakly, and he sighed as he started off to the dark living room. Sometimes it got harder and harder to remember that this thing - person had been a ruthless killing machine. Once upon a timeline. "Just… hang on to me, kiddo. Don't wanna go droppin' you on your head or somethin', might rattle like mine," he added lightly with a little forced grin, but they still wouldn't respond. Sans sighed as he sat down on the sofa with them, reclining a little as they nuzzled into his shoulder. He dug around in his jacket pocket for a few moments before pulling a slightly crumbled dog biscuit. He flipped out his lighter between his fingers and lit it, letting the smoke waft around their heads for a moment before taking a long, slow drag, blowing a little smoke ring through his nostril bone. Frisk pulled away for just a second to look at him with an expectant stare, and he sighed again.
One time thing my ass.
"You cannot under any circumstances tell Papyrus," Sans passed them the biscuit, and they nodded slowly. Frisk took a couple of experimental puffs and coughed immediately, and Sans shook his head. "Man. Never learn, huh."
Frisk frowned at him and took in another drag with a determined expression before handing it back to him. Sans felt the effects kick in after a few more breaths, and it felt like his aching bones finally, finally began to ease up a little. He didn't realize just how tense he had been, and he sighed as he closed his eye sockets and stroked Frisk's hair a little. Man, their head was soft. A little voice in his head reminded himself to give them head pats more often. Frisk seemed to like it from the way they were shifting. They readjusted themselves in his lap until they were leaning with their head directly under his chin, and he rested atop their head for a while as they smoked in complete silence, passing the biscuit back and forth. Before long the biscuit was gone to nothing but a stub, and Sans used a flicker of magic to incinerate it completely. For once, he could simply sit and close his weary eye sockets and let his mind wander.
He didn't want his mind to wander. But it would happen regardless. It always did. Usually when he didn't want it to. He needed to be around for Frisk. Frisk needed him. And just how utterly messed up was it that a part of him wanted them to need him, that he wanted to be needed by them? He was so selfish . He hated himself for it, but what was he supposed to do? There were no easy answers to be had for the questions he asked himself. And he asked himself a lot of questions. What was wrong with Frisk, for one? What was wrong with him? How was he possibly supposed to fix this? What was he supposed to do now?
What was the right thing to do at all?
… What would Papyrus do?
He wasn't sure for how long they simply sat in the dark, holding on to each other. He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he was dimly awoken by Frisk shifting to sit more comfortably with him. They gave him a little hug and curled up against him, and his expression softened a bit. They still wouldn't speak no matter what he tried, but maybe they would later. He just had to figure out a way to get them to open up a little bit again. He just wasn't certain how. He hoped he figured it out sooner rather than later. A silent Frisk put his bones on edge. And the way things were going, he most certainly did not need to be any more on edge. He sighed again and let his weary eye sockets rest a bit, wrapping his arm around their shoulder and pulling them a bit closer. Frisk snuggled against him, and he felt that odd little spark warm in his chest again. They could stay like this for a while longer. It didn't really matter. So long as he could just hold on to them, hold them close, let them know that they were safe, that they were loved, then maybe things wouldn't be so bad. He hoped they hadn't caught on. The way Frisk had reacted had done more than scare him a little. He was, without a doubt, completely and utterly terrified . Not just from what they had done.
Because there was a little, tiny sliver of him that almost didn't stop them.
God, he was so repulsive . He really was a miserable creature. Just what kind of a monster was he supposed to be? He just wanted to get as far away from himself as physically possible. But escape from himself wasn't really an option. Well, there was the one way, but he hadn't tried that in quite a few timelines. He'd probably be dragged back soon after the coward's way out anyway. He needed another smoke. Sans was half tempted to dig out another biscuit from his pocket. But that was the real problem, wasn't it? Temptation. Was he horrible for it? Was he a bad person for being tempted at all? He was just repressed and pent up, that had to be it. There was nothing wrong with him . That's all he had to keep telling himself.
If only he could believe it.
Paps would be better.
Sans let out a soft, slow breath through his nostril bone, his brows furrowing in the dark. He could just hold on to Frisk, for now. They and Papyrus were the only things that mattered anymore. His anchors. He had to take care of them. He needed to take care of them, they needed him. They needed him to be stronger. And he wasn't strong, not in the slightest. Not in the way it counted to him, at least. He couldn't protect them like he wanted to. He couldn't even protect himself. That damned weed had proven that to him. Over and over and over . And it had been so simple, so easy for it to break him down. He shuddered slightly, closing his eye sockets and taking a deep breath. He didn't need to go thinking on that again. Not the things he saw. Not the things he was forced to do, to watch. He could still see it when he closed his eye sockets, that damned smug, self satisfied smirk of someone who knows more than they're letting on, the look of someone in a fight they've already won. He hated that weed, he hated how weak he was, how powerless he was to stop it from harming his little babybones. The things he had done to them, over and over and over-
Sans shook his head a little, feeling dizzy. He didn't need to focus on that. It was over. It was gone, and it was never coming back.
… Unless the kid resets.
There was always that little matter to deal with. How far back would another reset take them? When would the kid reset? Could he even prevent it at all? Was it really inevitable? Would it all just happen all over again? He didn't want it to. But it was bound to happen eventually. Sooner or later he would wake up in Snowdin again, watching the snow fall outside his bedroom window. He'd slip up. He'd wake up and look over the mess in his room, the dirty clothes scattered all over the place and tossed and crumpled notes in the corner. There was no escape. Not really. There was no way out. He'd be back and he'd have to live through it all again, meeting the same people, saying the same things, doing the same things all over again. It was all so pointless to just try. What was the purpose? There wasn't any, that was the easy answer. He had no way out.
Except for the child clinging to him in the dark. He could hold on to them. And, in a way, he finally had some control over the resets. If he could control them, then he had some manner of power over when the world would inevitably turn back.
God, he was so twisted. It wasn't just selfish, it was wicked. He didn't want to be like this. But he had them. So long as he could hold onto them, so long as he could keep them close and ensure that they were alright, then maybe everything wouldn't be turned back. Maybe if he just kept them happy, then they would have a lower likelihood of resetting. He felt sick with himself, he was so manipulative and like him that it made him nauseous, but what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't just let them go. Not now . It was too late for that. It was too late for a lot of things. What was he supposed to do? What was the right thing to do?
Sans glanced down at Frisk in his lap, gently running a hand over the top of their head. He thought that they were asleep, at first. He would have been happy to see it, poor kid hadn't had a single night without screaming. He could relate. They leaned into his touch with a kind little smile, and it felt like his soul was melting a little. He missed seeing them smile. He just wanted to keep them close, keep them safe. He wanted so much more than he had. But mostly, he wanted them to be happy. He wanted so, so much for Frisk to just be okay. Maybe he couldn't give them the perfect life. He couldn't promise them much, if anything. But he wanted them to be okay. But could he give them that? Could he even bother to care?
He wanted to.
He wanted to care. He wanted to be better. He needed to be better. They needed him.
He would be better. He had to be better. Not for himself. For them. So that they could be happy.
All he wanted was to give them just a bit of comfort, and all the happiness that he could. He wanted them to have a good life. And he was screwing things up so badly. There was such a sickness in him that couldn't be cured, he was so foul, and sooner or later they were going to figure it out and see him for the monster that he really was and all of that happiness would be lost forever, and he would wind up back in Snowdin and it was all just so fucking pointless.
"… Frisk," Sans said after what felt like an eternity. He held their hand and they gave him a gentle squeeze to let him know that they were paying attention. "… Listen . Babybones. I…" he struggled, unable to put in words what he felt. Why was it so difficult? They looked up at him with that little smile, looking so kind. So merciful. Like their blood had never been on his hands at all. They looked at him with so much love in their eyes, and god it hurt his soul to see them looking at him like that. His words died in his throat and he looked away, shame plain on his face. He was ruining them just by being around them, he was a corrupting force to them. Didn't they understand that? Why couldn't they just hate him already? Maybe if they did he'd never have to worry about their bonded soul in the first place. Just how deep was it, anyway? Was it something that he could even fix?
And worse, what would happen if it grew ? Soul bonding wasn't something that he even wanted to discuss with them. Or anyone, for that matter. They would see him for what he really was sooner or later. And then, they would finally hate him. They would stay away. They would finally be safe.
So why did that thought hurt so badly?
"Listen," Sans started uncomfortably as they shifted to hold him. "Babybones. I'm… I mean, we can't… god . What am I tryin' ta say," he ran a hand over the top of his head, feeling like his skull was full of water. Why was this so difficult? "I gotta tell you somethin'. I-I, uh. Well. You see… the, the thing is, I…" he swallowed dryly. He felt dizzy. Thirsty. He felt sick with himself. He felt like passing out. But they had to know. Didn't they? Didn't they deserve to know the truth? They would see him for what he really was. All the vengeance in his soul. His anger, his rage, his judgment, his cruelty. He was so vicious on the inside, he had hurt them so many times. And they had still forgiven him, he who deserved no forgiveness for what was in him. They deserved to know.
But they would hate him.
He didn't have to tell them. That was something that he didn't have to share at all. He didn't have to tell them. They were a bright kid. They'd probably figure it out for themselves.
"… Sans?" Frisk said softly, holding his hand in theirs. Their voice cracked a little when they spoke they were so quiet, and he almost didn't hear them. They ran their thumb over this phalanges gently, gazing up at him with that look that hurt his soul so badly. "It's… it's okay. If-if you don't wanna talk. I understand."
"… You're a good kid, Frisk," Sans sighed quietly, pulling them into a little hug. They hugged him back, nuzzling their face into his shoulder.
"I love you, Sans."
"I love you too, babybones."
He could tell them later. Right now, he could just hold onto them. He could keep them safe. Or at the very least try his damnedest to.
They were his little babybones, and he was never, ever letting go.
He was determined .
Sans gave a weak little laugh, shaking his head. What was this kid turning him into? Did they even know what they were doing to him? Did they even know how badly it hurt, how much he wanted to keep them close and push them away at the same time? Not that many timelines ago, he would have just-
The conflicting emotion was killing him slowly. That's all his life was, was a cycle of slowly dying. There was no way out. So why bother anymore?
But Frisk. He wanted them to be okay. He wanted to try. For them.
He would give anything that he could. Anything. Everything. So long as they could be happy.
"… Hey," he said after a while, placing a hand on their cheek. "Kkiddo. You, uh. You doin' okay now?"
Frisk nodded softly, glancing up into his eye sockets. "I-I, uh, just… just wanna check somethin'. You mind if I pull your soul out for a sec?"
Frisk looked at him nervously, placing a hand over their chest. After a few moments they took a breath and closed their eyes, nodding once. Sans swallowed and placed his hand over theirs, just feeling for a moment. Their heartbeat was so powerful, so strong that he could feel it through their hand. Sometimes humans really could be incredible. And his kid, his little babybones had gone through so much and kept going, had done so much for everyone and asked nothing in return. They were so much stronger than him.
"… You're a good kid, Frisk," Sans whispered gently, unsure if they could even hear him he was so quiet. "You're… you're so much better than me."
Frisk frowned and started to reply, but Sans gently used his magic to draw out their soul and they
fell silent. The dark room was illuminated almost immediately in a brilliant red glow, casting dancing shadows flickering across his face. Their soul was a vibrant shade of red, shining like a star in the sky in the palm of his hands. He cupped it gently, careful not to touch it, staring down at the little white speck in the center of their soul. Was it just his imagination, or had that white spot… grown a little? The thought was unnerving, to be certain. He felt the sudden urge to reach out a little more, to grab hold of their soul. He wanted to touch it, to embrace it, and the impulse to just violently squeeze was so intense that it frightened him. He could feel his bones rattling as his fingers ever so gently brushed against their soul. Frisk gasped deeply when he touched it, and he felt a spark in his chest when he did so. It was like an electric rush through his whole body, it shook him to his core. He saw flashes of… something, all too wild to keep track of. Frisk shook in his embrace, their eyes wide and dashing back and forth, like they were seeing something new for the first time. He felt so vibrant, so full, so alive for just a split second, a full eternity. He let go almost immediately, his eye sockets wide as he stared down at them. As it dawned on his sluggish thoughts.
What did he do?
Oh, god. Oh god, oh fuck GOD what did I just do?!
"F-Frisk?" Sans carefully pressed the soul back into their chest, the dancing light slowly fading away. Frisk was gawking up at him with wide eyes, their mouth slightly agape. "Frisky-bits? Bbabybones?" "S-Sans," Frisk breathed heavily, looking shaken. "Hol~y shit ."
Sans cringed at the swear, feeling like he was watching a movie through his eye sockets rather than experiencing… whatever the hell he had just done. Frisk did not swear. Ever . Why was that upsetting him so much, considering what he had just done?
"Are you okay?" he asked, panicked. "Fuck, fuck fuck I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean to I swear-"
"That-that was," Frisk stuttered. "Oh god. Oh wow, oh gosh ."
"I'm sorry, fuck me sideways I'm sorry!" Sans felt sick, he was sick what the fuck was he doing making it worse?
"That was… weird," they shivered a little, taking his hand in theirs. "W-what was that?"
"I-I, oh no," he sputtered. "Oh shit. Oh shit I should not have done that," Sans flinched deeply. "I'm sorry babybones, oh god, oh god-"
"Sans?" Frisk noticed his growing despair, their grip on his hand growing a little tighter. "S-Sans?"
Don't cry. Be a big bones. Don't cry, for fuck's sake don't cry in front of the kid. Get it together. Get. It. Together.
"D-don't freak out," he shifted nervously, eyes flickering back and forth as he searched their face. "I-I-I, oh fuck, oh shit."
"Sans?!" Frisk was staring up at him, wringing his hand in theirs. Why was it so hard to hear them? "Sans? What's wrong?"
"What's wrong ?" he laughed bitterly, hysterically and without a trace of humor. The sound rang like a chime behind cloth for all he could hear, his head banging and his bones bristling. "Frisk, I-I just, oh, oh god. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Why?" they pried, looking into his eye sockets. "W-what was that?"
"That… that, w-what I just did," he started slowly, feeling so vile that he could have dusted while they held him. "That was, uh… that'sthat's something… personal ."
"… Intimate?" Frisk asked softly.
"… Y-yeah."
"… I liked it."
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, oh god. Oh Christ, oh god, I am so fucked.
"It's not happening again," Sans said carefully. "Ever. W-we, we, uh, I-I mean, I can't… Fuck," he exclaimed repeatedly and ran a shaking hand over the top of his head. "Oh god. Oh fuck babybones, I ddidn't mean ta do that-"
"It's okay," Frisk gently squeezed his hand. "It's okay. Breathe, Sans. Okay? Breathe."
Why were they doing this? Why were they the one comforting him ? Didn't they have any idea of what he had just done ? He hated it, he loathed himself, he could feel all of his accumulated sins crawling and swarming over the back of his neck. He shuddered hard when they hugged him.
This is so completely fucked.
He'd done something stupid. He was impulsive, he was so utterly boned .
"Listen," Sans said quickly. "L-listen, babybones. I-I… fuck," he sputtered. "Y-you can't tell 'Pyrus about-about, um. That," he couldn't even bring himself to speak properly he was so shaken. "You just… oh fuck I'm so sorry Frisk."
"Why are you sorry?" they blinked up at him curiously. "It was… nice. It felt like you were touching my insides-"
"Aaaand we're not continuing that sentence for the rest of eternity," he cut them off immediately. "No, no, fuck no, oh god I fucked up, I royally screwed us, oh shit what do I do…?!"
"Sans," Frisk gripped his cheeks, forcing him to look at them. "Sans. Sansy," they said softly. "Hey. Hey, hey . Sans. Sans. Look at me," they rubbed his bony cheek with their thumb slowly. "Sansy. It's okay. Really," Frisk smiled gently at him, their eyes half lidded. "It's okay. Thank you."
"Don't thank me for that!" Sans had to fight to keep his voice from raising. He felt the sudden urge to harm them and that thought alone made him want to turn that impulse on himself just to stop it. "Oh shit, I really fucked up Frisk-"
"Sans !" their grip tightened a little. Frisk wasn't one to speak up. Granted, their voice had only raised an octave or two, but it still had effect. He was shaking so badly, his hands were trembling, god he needed a smoke. Another. And another. He needed a drink. He needed something to calm his rattled nerves. "Sans. Hey. Hey, ccome on. Stay with me."
"I'm here," Sans shivered, blinking wearily. "Not… not goin' anywhere, babybones."
"Good," Frisk said with a hint of relief in their voice. "G-good. It's really okay, Sans. Everything is okay. It's alright," they reassured him, brushing his cheek again. "It's okay. Don't worry, Sansy." "Please don't call me that," he physically cringed again.
Oh god. What did he just do? What had he done ?
"S-souls," Sans started nervously, feeling too sweaty. "They're, they're - uh, well. It's really, really personal. I-I didn't mean ta t-touch it, Frisk, I swear… !"
"Sans," Frisk gave him a chaste little kiss on the forehead. "Hey. Hey, come on. Don't worry so much. It was nice. It's really okay."
"No, no it's not okay!" Sans scowled. "This… this is fucked, oh god.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry babybones. I fucked up, I fucked up bad, oh shit-"
"Stop."
Sans froze.
Their eyes hadn't changed color, but their voice was just so firm, so insistent that he really did freeze completely in place. For a moment he even forgot to breathe.
"Listen to me, Sans," Frisk said softly, but unwavering. "It's really okay. Okay? Don't panic. Everything is alright. I promise."
For the umpteenth time, they were the one calming him down. Was he really that unstable and immature? He was supposed to be a responsible adult, the one to comfort them, not the other way around. This was so wrong, he was wrong, why couldn't they just understand that? He wanted to make things better and every second he existed made it all worse. He wanted to tell them, to hold them, to push them away, to get away from himself, how was he supposed to fix this when he kept ruining everyone's lives?
Sans wasn't breathing at all and he realized this at last, taking a long, slow, deep breath and stilling his shaking phalanges. The corners of his vision were dark from how hard it was to breathe. Frisk took his hands in theirs, smiling up at him from his lap. This was so wrong. He had done something irredeemable, and they were looking at him with so much love, so much MERCY, and it hurt so much.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, hugging them tightly. They hugged him back, sighing as they buried their face against his chest. When had he started crying? Again? "I'm so sorry, babybones."
"You don't have to be sorry," Frisk insisted. "It's okay, Sans. I forgive you."
God it hurt . It hurt so badly, his soul was aching. He sighed again and kissed the top of their head, holding them a little closer. Maybe if he was lucky there would be no vacancy in hell, because that
was exactly where he deserved to be. Didn't they realize what they were doing to him? Didn't they care that he was awful ? Did they even realize what he had done? Didn't they care that he was…
Could he even call himself a proper monster anymore? He didn't know. All he was was an abomination. Something that never should have existed.
And they just kept forgiving him, and it hurt more than anything else he could have imagined.
He lost track of how long they had been sitting there. Sans didn't even care anymore. Something had happened when he touched their soul, he saw… something. A lot of something. Things he couldn't quite process. People he didn't know. Flashes of another life that wasn't his. He was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice when Frisk shifted uncomfortably, looking at something behind him-
He did notice, however, that there was a white, holed skeletal hand resting gently on his shoulder.
Sans jolted out of his reverie and jerked his head around wildly in panic.
There was nobody there.
You're losing it. This is it. You're finally losing what's left of your fragile little mind.
"… Sans?" Frisk said softly after a while, catching his attention.
"Y-yeah, buddy."
"Can… can you do… that again?" they pressed his hand against their chest where their heart was. "Please?
"No," he said firmly. "No. Please. Please, b-babybones. Don't… don't make me. I don't wanna do that again. Not again."
"I… I saw… something," Frisk started slowly, looking up at him with a strange look in their eyes. "Like… magic. What… what happened?"
"Sometimes," Sans explained cautiously, uncertain of how to convey what he wanted to say. "Sometimes, uh. S-souls are weird. They aren't supposed to be… touched. Like, ever . And with the way we are…" he ran a hand over his head again, blinking. "God. I-I gotta know. Did… did you, uh… see anything important? When I… when I did that?"
"Y-yeah…?" they gazed off in the distance for a moment. "I… I saw something."
"What did you see?"
He was afraid to ask. He didn't want to know.
He was petrified.
But of course he had to know. His half baked attempt at pushing that thought down didn't last long. He couldn't not know. There was too much at stake to be ignorant.
"It was weird," Frisk frowned, their brows furrowing. "I… I saw… white? And black. And blue. And… somebody else."
"You saw somebody," Sans blanched. "W-what did you see, babybones? Please. I-I gotta know."
Frisk wouldn't answer him. They only glanced away, wringing their hands nervously.
"Come on, baybones. Don't leave me in the dark here," he grinned weakly, pointing at the bare light bulb above him.
"That was bad," Frisk shook their head, but they smiled back at him. They still wouldn't explain to him what they saw when he touched their soul.
And there was still the matter of what he saw.
Flashes, images, almost like little photo snaps. Too much red. Overwhelmingly so.
What was happening to him? To Frisk?
What in the actual fuck am I doing with my life.
"… I'm gonna fix this," Sans said firmly, grasping them by the shoulders. "Trust me, kiddo. I'm gonna fix this. I… don't know how, just yet," he frowned. "But I will. I'm… I'm gonna fix this."
I'm gonna fix me.
Oh god, I'm so broken.
I have to fix me.
I have to fix myself.
I'm the problem.
… So what's the solution?
"Guess who's back?" Papyrus almost tore the door down in his excitement. Again. Sans glanced up from his position on the couch, and though Frisk was laying with their legs stretched out and their head in his lap, they still craned their neck up to look at them.
"I have no idea, Paps," Sans shrugged with a small grin as everyone filed in through the door, all carrying brown paper bags full to the brim with groceries. He flinched when Papyrus paused as if smelling something but eased up a little when his brother simply continued traipsing loudly through the flat. Sans continued to stroke Frisk's hair with one hand, trying to look as calm as possible. At least the kid hadn't jolted in terror from the noise this time. He had a pretty good idea why.
He was finding it hard to be freaked out with as many biscuits as they had gone through.
"Okay," Blake ruffled his hair when he set down a bag, closing the door behind Undyne as the last of the conglomeration of monsters entered the apartment. He flicked on a light and the bulb flickered on and off for a moment before basking them all in a fluorescent glow. "Okay. So, uh. Sorry we took so long. We got groceries. Kind of… a lot ? Miss Toriel wouldn't let me pay for any of them."
"Of course not, we are your house guests!" she beamed at him as she sat a bag on the table. "You have been so kind to us, and so helpful. It only seems right that we repay that kindness with kindness, should we not?"
"I could have carried all the groceries," Undyne grumbled to herself, arms already heavily laden.
"You really are too kind," Blake smiled softly at the queen. "Seriously. You guys are great."
"I believe that is the last of them," Asgore rumbled as he placed own a couple of bags filled to the brim before standing tall. A couple more holes were added to the ceiling in the process. "Tell me, human Blake. Have you ever had food cooked by a monster?"
"Can't say that I have," he shrugged, pulling at his studded ear ring nervously.
"Worry not, human Blake!" Papyrus patted him on the shoulder so hard that he was nearly knocked to the ground, all of the breath blasted out of him. "For I, the Great Papyrus, am going to create for you a culinary masterpiece !"
"Sounds like tonight is spaghetti night," Sans grinned at them from his spot on the couch. "Kinda surprised you guys could get so much
stuff."
"Y-yeah," Alphys shifted from behind Undyne, tapping her claws together. "Um, as it turns out, humans don't use the same currency as monsters."
"Can't say I'm surprised," Sans shrugged. "How'd that go?"
"Apparently," Papyrus rubbed his missing arm awkwardly. "Well. Gold is a precious commodity to humans? They were… actually very happy to accept payment for the groceries. Very happy. They were super nice and helped us carry some of them," he added with a smile. "On the one hand, apparently we're rich now. And on the other hand-"
"You have a stump," Sans grinned at him.
"ON THE OTHER HAND," Papyrus continued with an undignified shriek. "We shouldn't have to worry about income for a while. See, Sans? I told you saving up was a good idea!"
"Of course you're right," Sans shook his head slowly. "You always are, Paps."
"Of course I am," he said rather proudly, awkwardly readjusting his scarf. "Now, to begin… the greatest spaghetti to have ever been created!"
"Is that why you got sixteen boxes of different noodles?" Blake blinked, staring out over the sea of groceries littering the apartment.
"Seven teen," Papyrus corrected him, pulling out a box. Sans had rarely seen him so ecstatic. "There will be caking, and baking, and shaking! Shells, bells, angel hair, bucatini, tortellini, pappardelle, gnocchi! There are so many different types of noodles on the surface, this is going to be magnificent !"
Sans only laughed and shook his head. At least Papyrus was happy. It had been so long since he had seen him smile like that. He felt a little guilty for poking fun a Papyrus's arm, he really shouldn't have done that. But it wasn't like he wanted to make him feel bad. He just wanted to laugh again. He wanted to feel again. He felt numb on the inside, like a part of him was dying, and another was being born. It was so strange. But that was his life in a nutshell. His whole existence was strange. There was absolutely nothing about his life that was in any way normal. But that's all he wanted. All he craved. Just a little bit of normalcy in his utterly fucked up life. Just a bit of peace.
And here, with Frisk holding his hand, and Papyrus happy, maybe he could find that.
Maybe, just maybe, he could find a little bit of consolation. Of peace.
Something in his soul was stilled for just a bare moment, and he clung to it for as long as he could.
If he wanted peace, then he would have to look for it. Try for it. Fight for it. He wanted Frisk and Papyrus to be happy. He wanted his family to be safe. To have comfort. To take away their pain. Even if he had to bear it all himself, he would do it without question, without hesitation. And for just a very brief moment, he wondered if he could have ever compared to his brother and been that little bit better, and in a hopeful sort of way.
He was going to fix this.
Somehow.
If he didn't make it irreparably worse, that is.
But for now, for just a moment, he could close his tired eye sockets and smile at the universe that answered none of his questions.
Someday he would find answers.
Somehow.
However, for the rest of the night, he still couldn't quite shake the strange feeling of someone grabbing his shoulder.