Tiny Raven

Frisk watched the spaceport from her hiding place among pallets and shipping crates waiting to be loaded. Her stomach twisted with anxiety at the sheer number of people around her, the open space.

Every time someone came too close to her hiding spot, Frisk flinched away, back into the shadows. She jumped at any sound that managed to break above the cacophony of noise the filled the port. She was on edge – unable to stop shaking, to stop checking over her shoulder for anyone who might be searching for her.

Some small, primitive part of her mind begged for her to go back, to return to the endless white hallways and impassive researchers and plea for forgiveness.

She was a nervous wreck.

She should be catatonic with fear.

Chara was the only reason she remained somewhat functional. The AI was keeping her in a careful balance – alert enough to react to any threat, but calm enough that she could still think.

‘What now?’ Chara asked as Frisk fell back into her hiding spot.

“You’re the brains of this operation,” Frisk muttered in response. “Shouldn’t you be telling me?”

Not that there were many options to choose from. Staying on Huginn was right out. It would be impossible with the Cloister looking for her. Doctor Calibri had the connections to bring all of Allfather down on her.

“We have to get off planet,” Frisk said, hoping to talk through the problem. “Get as far from Huginn and Allfather as possible.”

Which would be difficult when the entire star system was under their control.

‘Obviously,’ Chara said, unimpressed. The AI flickered into being in Frisk’s peripheral vision, a ghost only she could see. ‘And here I thought you might have some useful input. I supposed I should be glad you’re not suggesting we go back.’

“Thanks,” Frisk said dryly, annoyance bleeding through her fear. “Do you have any helpful advice?”

‘You were expecting me to be helpful?’ Chara asked, false innocence dripping from the words. ‘If you want useful advice you have to ask useful questions.’

“Is now really the best time for this?” Frisk hissed. Chara didn’t answer, seeming content to wait for their host to fall in line. “A ship would be our best option … ”

There were a handful of ships docked. Small pleasure yachts with  minimal crew, mostly meant for short sub-orbital flights. They would be difficult to sneak aboard, nearly impossible to hide on long enough to escape Huginn. Frisk’s attention drifted further, toward the space elevator where organic and automated roustabouts loaded freight.

“… Unless we sneak onto that.”

She could probably do it, if she hid among the cargo. An extra 50 kilos would be nothing compared to the megatons the elevator regularly handled.

‘Too risky,’ Chara said. ‘There’s too many things that could go wrong. Vacuum exposure, hypoxia, being crushed by unsecured or shifting cargo … It’s not impossible, but I strongly recommend against it.’

Frisk nodded in reluctant agreement. If she was at peak performance she would probably risk it – but the most recent round of testing had left her with little room for error.

She had no wish to die on her first day of freedom.

“Our only option is one of those ships,” she said as she turned away from the space elevator again. She frowned, “They’re all so small.”

‘I’ll look at the options – there must be one that will fit your requirements.’ Chara said. ‘While I do, you should figure out a strategy to get on board.’

The AI ghost vanished without another word, leaving Frisk alone with her thoughts. She brushed her fingers through her short hair, catching on a snarl. With a huff she returned to the shadows to try untangling it as she considered her options.

The most obvious choice was to simply approach a crew and request room and board. Straightforward and to the point.

But she had nothing to exchange. Her worldly possessions were the clothes she wore and a few survival items she had managed to squirrel away in her inventory. Bottled water and ration bars were useful in the Cloister, but she doubted they were worth much out here.

She could ask for work, pay her way through labor. But she had seen the expressions of those few people she hadn’t quite managed to hide from. The oversized clothes she had been able to steal couldn’t hide the result of nearly a month of near-starvation. Her skin translucently pale, sunken eyes, hollowed cheeks …

Even if she was able to mask all of that somehow, there were bound to be questions. Questions she couldn’t answer. She had no past, no history, no family or home.

And when – not if – the Cloister came looking for her …

No one owed her their allegiance. She wasn’t stupid enough to believe that hard work would keep anyone from turning her in – especially if there was a reward.

“Any news?” she asked as she leaned against the crates with a heavy sigh.

‘No,’ Chara answered. ‘No BOLOs, no missing person reports … there’s absolutely nothing about you. Nothing public, at least.’

The news was less reassuring than Frisk had hoped.

Her disappearance had to have been noticed by now. The facility’s surveillance was omnipresent, and it was monitored by a very dedicated AI. Her absence had to have been noticed and reported by now.

She couldn’t believe otherwise.

They had to be looking for her.

… So why were there no notices or reports?

She had to assume the Cloister was keeping the search for her quiet for now. Maybe they had assumed she wouldn’t be able to get far from the facility, so were limiting their search. Eventually – sooner, rather than later – they would begin looking further afield.

Eventually they would look here.

‘I found a ship!’

Chara’s victorious cry derailed Frisk’s train of thought, and her mind stalled as it failed to process Chara’s exclamation.

“W-What?”

‘I. Found. A. Ship!’ the AI repeated, enunciating each word. ‘I’ll show you.’

Frisk hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath, before allowing Chara to ‘drive’. She closed her eyes as she felt her consciousness get dragged from her body, the sensation terrifying and dizzying.

She didn’t think she would ever get used to the feeling of being an observer in her own skin. Her senses hazy and filtered, experienced through a fog of dissociated detachment, secondhand and muted.

Chara took a moment to recalibrate, flexing Frisk’s fingers and toes, bending and stretching. Frisk wondered if the AI found it as strange to be in a body as it felt for her to be out of it.

‘Get on with it,’ Frisk hissed as the moment stretched on and her discomfort grew.

‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ Chara sniped back. ‘Maybe if you actually told me about the fractured metatarsal, or the second degree burns to your lower legs, or the full body joint stiffness, or the splitting headache, we wouldn’t be having this issue.’

‘ … My foot’s broken?’ Frisk asked, instinctively trying to look down at her bare appendages, only for her body to refuse to move. ‘I’m burned?’

‘Yes,” Chara said simply. ‘It’s all pretty minor. I already have the bots working on everything.’ The AI shifted to look at the row of ships docked in port. ‘It should be fixed within half an hour.’

‘How did I – ”

‘There it is. That one,’ Chara said, cutting the question off before Frisk could finish asking it.

Her connection with her body slammed back into place without warning, sensory information overwhelming her as it came into being.

‘A Class-Two Tenebrous Wanderer,’ Chara explained as Frisk reoriented herself to her body. ‘It’s small, but it has tons of hiding places. They’re popular with people who deal in shady business – smugglers, pirates, mercenaries … fugitives … I’ve found claims that people have managed to survive – hidden and unnoticed – aboard similar ships for over a month.’

Chara overlaid one of the ships with schematics, highlighting the multiple hiding places.

“It’s so … small,” Frisk said as she processed what Chara was showing her.

‘Good things come in small packages,’ Chara said. ‘Besides, a nicer vessel is much more likely to have proper AI security.’

“The Wanderer wouldn’t?”

‘The TEW line – and the TEW-2 specifically – were built to be safe, durable, and cheap. Any standard, pre-installed AI would almost certainly be limited to Gate calculations. It’s possible there would be a security AI, but it would be fairly low on the list of upgrades and improvements. Given the look of the ship, I doubt the crew has bothered.’

“So that’s the best choice?” Frisk asked. She watched the port from her hiding spot to the Wanderer, mapping a route and committing it to memory.

‘ … Yes,’ Chara answered after a moment’s hesitation. Frisk chose to not comment on the jolt of uncertainty. ‘There is significant data that I’m unable to access, but yes. I can continue searching for a second option, but our time is limited. There might not be any public notices yet, but the Cloister is almost certainly searching for you by now.’

Frisk bit her lip as anxiety began to coil in her chest, a heavy weight holding her down. She felt like an animal in a trapped maze, knowing any wrong move would result in pain and suffering.

Endless white doors stretching down endless white hallways. Emotionless, uncaring eyes watching a she failed again and again and again and again.

Her building panic vanished in a burst, leaving her with a pounding heart and the need to move. Chara forced her breathing to slow and deepen, and Frisk allowed the steady rhythm of it to ground her.

Calm.

“What’s the best way to get aboard?” Frisk asked. She clasped her hands together to stop their shaking.

‘What were your ideas?’ Chara asked.

“I thought we needed to hurry,” Frisk huffed, but the argument didn’t keep her from continuing to map a path through the port. “I could ask for passage, exchange labor for passage, fake whatever it takes to get aboard, or sneak on. I have nothing to offer in trade, so asking is out. I look like I should be in a morgue, so exchanging labor is unlikely to work.”

‘The Tenebrous Wanderer is also not a passenger vessel,’ Chara said. ‘There is no boarding pass for me to falsify. Which leaves only one option.’

Frisk nodded in agreement as her plan solidified in her mind.

“We have to stow away.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Wingdings stared at the security feed, watching and rewatching the brief flicker where the human was visible.

Watching them duck into the main crawlspace in the cargo bay, hidden from any of the Stargazer’s cameras.

He couldn’t believe it, even though he was staring at the hard evidence.

He huffed, impressed. Here he had the most advanced security system in the entire ‘verse and somehow a human had managed to sneak aboard, right under his nose.

And Wingdings had no idea how they had managed it. They shouldn’t have been able to, even if he had been a little distracted.

He’d just been so bored.

He’d been left to watch over the Stargazer, told to keep an eye out and the engines primed, just in case they ran into trouble.

As though they weren’t already in trouble, with the ship impounded and unable to leave the port.

(Not that the impound lock would actually keep them there. Wingdings and Doctor Alphys had made short work of it, overriding it almost immediately.

But it was better to try to work things out diplomatically, than to burn any good faith they might be shown on the central planets.)

Captain Undine had gone to have a word with the authorities … and Papyrus had immediately followed. Ostensibly he went to back up their captain, but really he was there to keep the number of throttled officials to a minimum.

Sans had followed soon afterwards, to even out Undyne’s brashness and Papyrus’ naive charitability.

Alphys, already over-anxious about their current job, had worked herself into a nervous fit and had chosen to hide in her bunk until the others returned.

Which left Wingdings to clean up the mess that was this job.

It had looked legitimate at the beginning – found through the proper channels with official documentation signed and sealed by the Yggdrasil Conglomerate itself. It was supposed to be a simple delivery run, cargo volatility notwithstanding.

And as a bonus, the pay was astronomical. Even without the second half they had enough to repair the most outstanding issues of their aging starship. Actually fix them, instead of relying on bonding agent, tack welds, and hope.

It had easily given the Stargazer an extra decade in the sky.

All-in-all, the job had been completely smooth.

Wingdings supposed their luck had to run out at some point.

Their Huginn contact had vanished, leaving the Stargazer with incomplete, incorrect paperwork and a hold full of highly regulated cargo.

Cargo they could neither offload nor fly away with.

They were trapped.

And Wingdings was bored.

He’d tried to find somehow to keep himself entertained.

There were no updates available for his favorite serials, so he turned to the local streams … Only to realize that Huginn had the worst local programming. Edutainment and propaganda, most of it aimed at children.

He had eventually managed to find a documentary about Terra-Sol. One he hadn’t seen before! It was full of conspiracy theories surrounding the human exodus from their dying homeworld – none of which made sense and all of which were insane. But the narrator spoke with such grave confidence that Wingdings couldn’t help but find it charming, if completely ridiculous.

He’d also found an educational show aimed at toddlers that wasn’t too abrasive to his senses. It was full of loud sounds and flashes of color, and it lacked much content beyond that.

Wingdings had scanned the Stargazer, analyzing every micrometer with every diagnostic tool at his disposal and making a list of all the issues he found. While he waited for the process to finish he wrote a quick algorithm to prioritize them, balancing cost and how disastrous it would be if the part or system failed.

They could keep flying if their fuel was low, but they wouldn’t survive without life support or the MP shielding.

When the scan finished he set it up to repeat, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

Still bored, he reached out to other AI in the area, hoping to find someone he could talk to. The options were similarly lacking. Bound by design, most of the other AI were either obsessively focused on ship security or they were single-minded about the complicated mathematical computations needed to use the Waygates. They had little to say outside of their special interests.

He had managed to find three AI that weren’t completely boring, and invited them to a game of cards.

It was a game he was clearly winning.

It wasn’t as fun or engaging when he was the only one who really understood what “bluffing” was.

He’d been about to cash out when the security system pinged about an anomaly in the cargo bay.

An intruder.

A human.

Even knowing what to look for, Wingdings could barely see the disturbance on the video feed. A small distortion of pixels that broke away from a passing crowd, made its way up the gangplank, passing the guard at the bay doors. Clearly they were as invisible to him as they were to Wingdings, as he made no move to stop the shifting mass. It moved quickly and fluidly, continuing into the ship to hide behind a pallet waiting to be unloaded.

The distortion flickered, vanishing, leaving a human in its place.

They had short brown hair and wore clothing clearly too large for their small frame. They had a hand over their sternum and it jerked up and down with their heaving breaths.

They stayed like that for a few moments, their head tipped like they were listening to something.

Then they darted forward, vanishing into one of the smuggler holds, out of sight of his cameras.

Wingdings couldn’t believe it.

A human.

On the Stargazer.

Stowed away and hiding in the walls.

A ping came across the data stream, a request for feed access. Wingdings accepted it without a second thought.

The human had not only managed to sneak by the armed guard, but had nearly eluded him – a far greater feat.

This human was very, very, interesting.

☆ ☆ ☆

Frisk leaned against the bulkhead wall of the smuggler’s hold, breathing hard and shaking with fear and exertion.

She had done it.

She was on a ship.

She prayed her luck would hold long enough to get into open space – or better yet, to another port.

‘You need to eat,’ Chara said, appearing beside her with a data pad in hand.

‘I’m fine,’ Frisk answered with a huff. ‘I just need a minute.’

The AI glanced up at her, eyebrow raised, which Frisk pointedly ignored.

‘What’s our inventory?’

‘Seven ration bars, one opened and partially eaten. Four liters of water, one empty two-liter bottle. Three two-meter long rolls of gauze in widths of three, five, and seven centimeters. One two-meter roll of self-adhesive bandaging, seven centimeters wide. A little less than eight ounces of antiseptic, antimicrobial wound wash,’ Chara glanced at Frisk over their tablet. ‘The clothes you’re wearing.’

Frisk nodded, calculating the supplies in her head.

With careful rationing the food would last for a little over two weeks. If she could manage to hibernate she could stretch that for as long as a month.

The water would be a problem.

‘We have to conserve what we have,’ Frisk said. ‘I don’t need to eat. I’ll be fine with some rest.’

‘You’re running on fumes,’ Chara said. ‘I’m running on fumes. This is more than what a little “rest” can help. You need to eat.’

Frisk shook her head, stubbornly refusing the order.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to fully recover the mana she had used to get onto the ship with just rest, but she didn’t think she would need to.

Chara huffed in frustration.

‘Eat, or I’ll do it for you.’

To prove their point, Frisk watched herself pull the already-opened ration bar out of her inventory.

‘Don’t do that,’ Frisk hissed as she snapped her hand back, cradling it like she’d been burned. 

‘I wouldn’t have to if you listened to reason.’ Chara said. ‘Eat the rest.’

‘But what if I nee- ‘

‘But what if you “need it”?’ Chara asked, cutting Frisk off. The AI beckoned around them.‘This is one of those times when you “need it”, Twelve-Fifteen. This, right here, is the perfect time to start using your rations.’

Frisk bristled at the AI, anger and betrayal running wild through her.

And then it was gone, and Frisk deflated, defeated.

Chara was right. She needed to eat, because she needed to be ready if she had to fight.

She took another bite of the ration bar.

‘So. What now?’ the AI asked.

Frisk chewed the dry, tasteless food as she thought. There wasn’t much she could do.

‘We stay here,’ she said after a moment. ‘Learn as much as we can about the ship and crew.’

‘Wouldn’t that be easier if we weren’t in the cargo hold?’ Chara asked. ‘They won’t have a reason to come down here once we’re in open space.’

‘We can’t afford to get caught while we’re still in port,’ Frisk countered immediately.

Getting onto the ship had been risky enough. Moving further into the ship while it remained docked …

It was too likely to get them caught. And if they were caught they would be turned into the port guard.

And from there it was a single step to being returned to the Cloister and its endless white hallways.

At least in open space there was a chance she would remain free.

’If you hide in this location you are much likelier to be discovered,’ Chara said. ‘This is one of the better-known smuggler holds on this ship. It is often used for regular storage.’

‘Is there any way of telling how many people are on board?’ Frisk asked.

‘As far as I can see the ship lacks sensors for that. It’s registered to a crew of six.’

Which meant six people to blindly avoid.

‘Definitely too risky,’ Frisk concluded. She combed a hand through her hair, snagging on another snarl. She began untangling it with a low growl. ‘I assume we don’t have the next port-of-call.’

‘No flight plans have been submitted yet,’ Chara confirmed. The AI was almost apologetic as they continued, ‘I’m as blind as you are.’

Frisk sighed, her exhaustion catching up to her all at once. She pulled off her oversized sweater, bundling it to use as a pillow.

She curled up, muscles aching with unspent, nervous energy. She needed to conserve energy … But as she stared at the ceiling of the tiny smuggler’s hold her mind raced, anxiety filling her thoughts.

‘Sleep,’ Chara said as the panic vanished, replaced by the exhaustion the AI had been masking. ‘I’ll wake you if anything happens.’

☆ ☆ ☆

—Red—

Red snorted as he read Sans’ misspelled name on his cup of coffee.

“ ‘sands’, eh?”

They’d left The Parlor and were again walking the paths of the park, Red trying to make aimless conversation as he built up the nerve to break the question.

“it’s course, rough, and irritatin’,” Sans answered with a casual shrug. “guess the barista knows me.”

“y’ain’t irritating’,” Red growled. “barista’s a beach if they think so.”

“i sea what you did there,” Sans responded, ducking his head and refusing to react to the first part of what Red said. “she made a mistake, s’not shrimportant.”

“yeh shore do like takin’ the piss outta yerself,” Red muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

He was irritated, and he was taking that out on Sans when the other had done nothing to deserve it.

 For some reason, Mutt’s teasing had gotten to him.

“you make it sound like i’m doin’ it on porpoise,” Sans said. He raised his coffee cup to his mouth, looking at it with an … almost wistful expression. “i just happen t’ be the biggest joke i know.”

Red frowned, watching the other from the corner of his eye socket. Annoyance gave way to concern as Sans took a sip of his drink, his smile wide and taut at the edges, only to rise again as Mutt’s words came to mind.

“don’t tell me you caught feelings for him!”

Red looked away, glaring at the concrete of the footpath.

It was a relief that his phone chimed at him at that moment, pulling him from his twisting thoughts.

“oh,” he said as he looked at the message. A reminder from a local astronomy group. “there’s a thing goin’ on this weekend, at the observatory. wanna go?”

“what kinda thing?” Sans asked, carefully treading a line between intrigue and disinterest. “i can’t pay for anythin’.”

“it’s a free event,” Red explained, holding out his phone so Sans could see the message. “they’re callin’ ‘em ‘star parties’. buncha people – mostly human, monsters ain’t really … interested in the stars – gettin’ t’gether t’ stargaze.” He felt the excitement building as he talked. He’d been wanting to go to one for … as long as he’d known about them.

No one else had wanted to go. Papyrus and Mutt weren’t interested at all, Black was too busy, and Blue didn’t have the patience to stargaze for hours. Edge would have gone, but Red had wanted to go with someone who would appreciate it.

Someone like Sans.

 “th’ observatory ain’t open yet, but the grounds are. they let anybody show up, set up their telescopes,” Red continued, trying to keep his excitement contained. He tossed his empty coffee cup into a nearby trash bin. “sometimes they got speakers and shit. this month is pretty laid back, though.”

“i don’t have a telescope,” Sans said as he handed back the phone.

“that’s part of the beauty of it,” Red said as he turned off the screen of his phone and slid it into his pocket. “y’don’t need one. people’ll let yeh use theirs.”

Red could see Sans’ excitement, feel it coming off of him in waves. His eyelights were wide and bright, and his smile was quirked into something real.

Like he’d looked in the planetarium.

“i … ”

For a moment Red let himself hope.

“… can’t.”

Sans looked at the ground, excitement snuffed like a candle without oxygen, eyelights dim and unfocused.

“sorry,” he appended. “i can’t take the time off work.”

“why the fuck not?” he demanded in a low growl, unable to keep his anger from his voice.

Red floundered in his own emotional whiplash, dashed optimism and unresolved irritation combining into red-hot rage. He knew he was overreacting, knew that the nascent hopes he’d placed in maybe going to the event weren’t worth this reaction, but he couldn’t stop.

“i told ya, money’s tight right now,” Sans said as he cowered away from Red without making it obvious what he was doing.

“ ‘money’s tight’,” Red mocked. “so tight yeh can’t take one night off’ve work – but not tight enough t’ get over whatever hangup yeh got about humans t’ ask fer help?”

“it’s … complicated,” Sans said.

Red ignored him.

“it’d be easy t’ get yeh hired at my store. all i’d need t’ do is put in a good word fer yeh. the managers all like me.”

“i can’t,” Sans said, voice taking on a desperate edge. He backed away as Red pushed forward.

“and if money’s that fuckin’ tight, why ain’t Papyrus workin’?! and not his volunteer bullshit, but a job that actually pays?”

“he’s busy with schoo- ”

“ ‘busy with school’ my ass. my entire nonexistent ass, sans,” Red shouted. “he was gettin’ coffee with the others. i ain’t never seen him pass the bill on t’ someone else, so he probably paid for himself and everythin’!”

“it’s – ”

“if yeh say ‘it’s complicated’ again … pap and the swap bros were goin’ to a movie. he talked about buy-in’ popcorn. that shit ain’t cheap. why’s he doin’ that shit if money is so damn ‘tight’ that you can’t take one night off?”

“he deserves – ”

“and you don’t?!”

“you don’t underst- ”

“then fuckin’ explain it, sans!” Red shouted.

Silence fell between them, Sans staring at Red, mouth agape and at a loss for words. Red’s chest heaved as a strange calm settled over him, in the eye of his emotional storm.

Sans looked away first, hand tight around his half-empty to-go cup.

“it’s just the way it is,” he said after a quiet moment, voice quiet and tinged with shame. Shame and a melancholy sort of resignation. “it’s my responsibility. i’m s’posed to look after him, y’know?”

He glanced up at the sky, taking in the early twilight.

“i gotta get home, get ready for work,” he mumbled. “maybe we can do this again sometime?”

Sans looked around, orienting himself before figuring out the way to his apartment.

“sans wait, i – ” Red reached out and grabbed his arm, hand closing around his upper humerus.

His grip was tight, but he didn’t expect Sans to flinch away with a hiss, dropping his unfinished coffee on the ground. The lid fell off, splashing them both with mocha.

Red didn’t notice, letting go of Sans and holding his hands up defensively.

“shit i didn’t mean t’ … ”

He trailed off as realization set in.

He had hurt Sans, but he hadn’t injured him.

“yeh get that by ‘trippin’,’ too?” Red asked darkly.

Sans rubbed at his humerus, trying to ease the ache and refusing to look at Red.

“sans?”

“it’s nothin’,” Sans muttered. He closed his eyes, like he could click his heels three times and be back in Kansas. “it was an accident. i’m fine.”

“no y’ain’t,” Red said with a sigh. “but yeh ain’t gonna tell me what’s goin’ on. do yeh even tell papyrus what’s goin’ on, or do yeh leave him in the dark, too?”

Sans winced at his brother’s name, but didn’t defend himself. Didn’t do … anything but look at the slowly oozing puddle of coffee at his feet.

“is that why you an’ pap don’t get along?” Red asked. “is that why it seems like he can’t stand t’ be around you?”

He regretted the words immediately.

Sans crumbled, hugging himself with his arms and his carefully crafted facade collapsing into dust and ruin.

“i’m sorry,” he said in a whisper.

Like he had anything to apologize for.

“i didn’t mean … i … fuck,” Red said, fumbling as he watched his counterpart flounder, unable to take back what he’d said to cause it. “i … i gotta go.”

Without waiting for a response Red vanished, leaving Sans alone in the park.

Fuck.

—Sans—

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, unable to move or think or breathe, staring at the spilled coffee and replaying those final words in his head.

It was funny, in a way, how the sentiment wasn’t anything shocking. It wasn’t like it was a secret, how Papyrus felt about Sans. Everyone knew there was a rift between them. Everyone knew Papyrus didn’t like Sans.

If they didn’t, Papyrus made sure they found out.

And honestly, who could blame him? Sans was little more than a burden on his younger brother. Useless and lazy and unstable.

And Papyrus was … great. The greatest.

But somehow, hearing those words …

It broke something in Sans’ very Soul.

He can’t stand to be around you.

Sans picked up the discarded lid and cup, throwing both into the trash bin.

He wasn’t sure exactly how he’d fucked up this time, how he’d made Red so … angry. He’d never seen the other like that, all fury and spite.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and started his walk home.

It didn’t really matter how he’d fucked up. It was obvious that Red was done with him. He fought the urge to dig his beat up cellphone from his pocket, to text him an apology.

He couldn’t fix this with a “sorry” and a crying-face emoji, if his phone could even deal with those.

His one chance at a friend and he’d blown it by … being himself.

It’d be funny if it weren’t so fucking sad.

Sans sighed as he approached the apartment building. He tried the knob experimentally, uncertain if he’d locked it or not. He’d expected Papyrus to be home tonight, but if he was at a movie with Blue and Stretch …

Sans didn’t look forward to being locked out.

Luckily, he’d been too distracted to lock the door.

Without Papyrus around Sans felt like an intruder, the dark quiet of the apartment oppressive and stifling.

Sans wandered into the kitchen, pulling out a container of leftovers to heat up for himself. Spaghetti with meatballs, a classic Papyrus dish.

As the container spun on the microwave’s turntable, he realized he wouldn’t be able to eat it.

The smell of tomatoes and basil made his magic churn uncomfortably, a state that only worsened when he took the food out of the microwave.

“guess i’m not eatin’ tonight,” he muttered as he tried not to gag.

Fortunately, he knew someone who would gladly eat the pasta, so Papyrus would never know he’d skipped another meal.

Sans left the apartment, heading directly to the alleyway beside it, whistling through his teeth as he approached. He smiled when he saw who he was looking for.

“hey there, buddy,” Sans said softly as the small, white dog crawled out of the cardboard home Sans had built for him. “got some dinner for ya, if ya want it.”

He set the container down, taking a step back to let the dog investigate the food.

The dog had shown up months ago, starving and mangy. Sans wasn’t sure if it was the same “annoying hound” that had plagued Papyrus in the Underground, but he liked to imagine it was. He’d always liked the little beast and his antics, sneaking into their home and stealing bones when Paps wasn’t looking.

He’d been glad when he’d found the dog, even though he regretted that he couldn’t give him a better life. Sans had been very careful to keep the dog away from Papyrus, wary of his brother calling Animal Control.

The dog sniffed at the spaghetti before eagerly chowing down. Sans wasn’t sure pasta was necessarily good for dogs, but he hoped it wouldn’t hurt.

It was better than nothing, at least.

He made a mental note to stop at a butcher shop to ask for scraps sometime soon, and slumped against the wall.

“i fucked up again,” he told the dog as it ate. “red’s prob’ly never gonna talk to me again. i mean, it was only a matter of time, right? he asked me t’ go to this stargazing thing … honestly it sounded amazing. buncha people getting together to look at the stars’n’planets. too bad stars ain’t visible durin’ the day. i’d gladly give up a couple hours’ve sleep t’ see jupiter or saturn with my own eye socket.”

Sans sighed as the dog licked the container clean, then whined at him for more.

“sorry bud, that’s all i got,” he said with a sad shrug. He scratched the mutt’s head as it came over to him for a snuggle.

“i told red i couldn’t go,” he said with a dark chuckle. “he got angry. i don’t blame him … but it still hurts.”

The dog whined and lay down next to the skeleton, head on his lap. He yawned and closed his eyes, fed and safe.

“thanks bud,” Sans said with a small smile. “y’always know how to cheer a guy up.”

—Red—

Red sat at the table, looking at the notebook in front of him. The moment he’d gotten home he had started scribbling all the little observations he’d noticed about Sans.

     Polite

     Shy

     Bruises – head and arm – won’t explain

     Speaks highly of Pap – doesn’t have a bad thing to say about anyone?

On the opposite page were things he’d noticed about Papyrus.

     Loud

     Kind

     Strong

     Fashionable – always wearing something new

As he detailed out both Tale brothers, a picture began to emerge.

A very concerning picture that he didn’t want to admit.

But he couldn’t think of any other explanation.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up bad.

—Edge—

Edge took comfort in routine. He felt most secure when things were in their proper place, when things happened at the appropriate time.

It made it easy. to tell when something was wrong.

What he expected when he came home from working nights was to find Red asleep on the couch, snoring and drooling, some gory slasher flick playing for no one. Every night Red tried to wait up for Edge.

Every night he failed.

Edge would turn off the TV, wake his brother enough to see him to bed, then shower to wash the smell of the kitchen from his bones. Then he could go to bed, resting easy knowing everything was where it should be.

“BROTHER?” he asked when he opened the door to the apartment.

Far from being asleep, Red was wide awake, pacing manically. At his brother’s voice, Red turned and Edge saw his eye sockets were wide, the eyelights nearly nonexistent.

Confusion, concern, and worry surrounded him in a near-tangible aura.

“boss,” he breathed out in a relieved sigh.

Edge waited, nervous, as Red collected his thoughts, uncertain what to expect.

He began wondering where best to hide a body.

Red looked at him, eye sockets full of uncertainty and concern.

“somebody’s hurtin’ sans,” he said in a quiet rush, like he was afraid someone might overhear. “… and i think I know who.”

—Red—

Red held the café door open for Sans, noting how hard his counterpart was shivering with a frown.

“y’shoulda worn a thicker coat,” Red commented as they took their place at the back of the queue. “yer shakin’ like a fuckin’ maraca.”

“it’s the s-song of my p-people,” Sans snarked back as his teeth chattered.

Red rolled his eyelights, debating if he should offer his coat to Sans, at least to help him warm back up.

“i’ll be fine once i get somethin’ t’ drink,” Sans said, responding to Red’s unasked question like he could read his damn mind.

Sans was looking up at the menu board, hugging himself in an attempt to subdue his shivering.

“RED!”

The loud, cheerful voice broke the general quiet of the café, and made Red tense up.

wait … what’s today?

He pulled out his phone to check and groaned.

Every other week the skeletons had a standing get together at The Parlor. Usually at least a couple of them would show.

Red had it marked on his calendar, he just hadn’t thought to look at it before he texted Sans.

He was a fucking moron.

Fuck.

He wondered if he could get away with not responding. If somehow Blue would think he had the wrong skeleton.

… right, like there’s more’n one of me.

Red turned toward Blue’s voice, plastering a smile on his face and bracing himself for who might be there.

Mutt and Stretch were looking between him and Sans. Stretch’s expression was openly curious, like he had found a particularly interesting shiny thing that he couldn’t wait to take apart.

Mutt, on the other hand, had a grin that was wide and sharp. It was a grin that Red knew all too well. He was in for a whole mountain of bullshit from that one.

Black had his skull in a ledger, coffee cup abandoned on the table in front of him. As usual he seemed to be working in his time off. Fucking workaholic.

Blue was standing and waving, excited and bright as always. He didn’t seem to notice (or care) that he was bothering other patrons with his antics.

And Papyrus …

Papyrus wasn’t looking at Red at all. Hs eyelights were focused on Sans with an expression that set Red’s instincts screaming, although he wasn’t sure what they were saying.

Then he seemed to notice Red looking at him and the expression was gone. Replaced with a grin as wide as Blue’s, unthreatening and kind.

Red almost doubted he had seen the look Papyrus had shot Sans.

Almost.

“RED!” Papyrus called out, causing more customers to glare at the table of skeletons. Red could hear some of them muttering complaints to one another. A couple got up and left, taking their drinks with them. “COME JOIN US!”

A pit formed in his core.

Red wanted to accept the invitation, but something about Papyrus was making him uneasy. He trusted his instincts, especially when he couldn’t figure out why they were freaking the fuck out.

He also didn’t want to abandon Sans. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t rude.

“go talk to them,” Sans said, so quiet the words were almost lost to the background murmur of the café.

Red spun on him, his full attention on the other in an instant.

Sans’ eyelight flickered at Red before returning to the menu boards that he was staring at, unblinking. “i can order if ya … if you tell me what you want. i actually got the g this time.”

Red stared at Sans, his mind a jumble as misfitting pieces of a puzzle started to resolve themselves, just a little.

“i ain’t ditchin’ ya,” Red growled. “if it got back t’ the boss i wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

Sans was still in his casual, lazy slouch – but it was no longer casual or lazy. Red hadn’t noticed before but Sans was … tense.

A wire, ready to snap with just a little more pressure.

Scared.

The line moved and Sans took a measured step forward with it, leaving Red a step behind him. He tipped his head back, looking at Red out of the corner of an eye socket.

“it’s not ditching if I tell ya-“ he flinched, changing the word partway through, “-ou … you to do it.”

His grin was too wide. Too tight at the edges.

“if you don’t you’ll spend the entire time glancing over at them like a schoolgirl with a crush. just go.”

“i ain’- !“ Red began. His words were cut off with the pop of displaced air that came with shortcuts. A heavy weight rested on his shoulders, nearly knocking him over.

“heya Red,” Mutt said in a lazy drawl, his eyelights fixed on Sans. “gonna introduce me t’ yer date?”

“git offa me!” Red snarled in response, shoving the other away. Red glared up at Mutt as he snarled, “ya already know sans, asshole.”

“weird,” Mutt said as he continued to leer at Sans, who had his back carefully to Red and the interloper. Red could see his head was cocked just a little, listening to their conversation. “i thought that was sans. i take it yer little ‘date’ went well, then?”

Red flinched at the barely concealed mockery in Mutt’s voice, tensing for half a soulbeat. He dug his wallet from his pocket and shoved it toward Sans.

“mocha. small. double chocolate. get it t’go.”

“sure,” Sans agreed with a nod. The tattered trifold disappearing into his own hoodie pocket.

Red grabbed the ring of Mutt’s collar to drag him back to the table with the others.

He’d almost figured out the damned, infuriating puzzle that was Sans.

He wasn’t about to let Mutt fuck it up.

—Sans—

Sans watched Red drag Mutt away with a half-hearted smile. His soul clenched with desperate want, and he turned away before he could meet anyone’s eyelights.

They were staring at him. He could feel it.

He clenched his fists in his hoodie pockets, fighting the urge to scratch at the back of his neck. Trying to ignore the way his bones prickled uncomfortably with shame and fear.

He repeated Red’s order to himself softly, a mantra. He didn’t want to mess it up.

“small mocha, double chocolate, to go.”

Today had been enough of a disaster.

Sans should have never agreed to come out when he still had a visible bruise. Red had been tense since seeing it, even when he changed the subject. He kept glancing at the back of Sans’ hoodie, as if he could see the injury through the fabric.

Of course, Sans’ slip (heh) up of an explanation hadn’t helped.

His only excuse was being exhausted. Papyrus hadn’t let up on him after their fight, waking him early every day and sending him out to find a job.

(at least he was sleeping deeply enough that he didn’t have nightmares.)

He wasn’t getting enough sleep. He’d fallen back to his old go-to explanation: a smile and a pun about ice and slippers. He hadn’t updated it since they’d left the Underground.

He hadn’t needed to.

(had it really been that long since someone cared enough to ask?)

“small mocha, double chocolate, to go.”

Sans allowed himself a glance at the table, watching as Red talked with the others. He looked serious, and Sans wondered what they were talking about.

Red shifted and Sans saw a hint of the red of Pap’s scarf. He looked away, focusing on the menu board, hoping he hadn’t been caught staring.

Papyrus.

He wasn’t going to be happy that Sans was out with Red. Again.

He was supposed to be finding a job.

(a job Sans was increasingly thinking he wasn’t going to find.)

“small mocha, double chocolate, to go.”

A solitary night job was one thing. Finding a solitary day job was futile. The few places that had even bothered to call him back hadn’t had positions open that were away from … people. Cashiering and waitstaff jobs were plentiful. Jobs that limited his outside contact were few.

He hadn’t even bothered mentioning the callbacks to Papyrus.

(why bother when he’d … )

“small mocha, double chocolate, to go.”

He pulled his wallet from his pocket, counting out the G for two drinks so he wasn’t doing it at the counter. He left Red’s wallet where it was. He had been saving up, wanting to repay Red for his generosity.

He was able to pay.

He wanted to.

“Hello! Welcome to The Parlor,” the girl behind the register said. A cat monster, pale fur and (appropriately) a Cheshire grin. “What can I get you?”

“Uh … ” Sans stuttered as he forgot how to talk for a moment. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Two small mochas. Double chocolate. To go. Please.”

“Certainly!” Cheshire smiled. She grabbed two small cups and a pen. “And your name?”

The girl misheard, or he mumbled too much, a mistake Sans only caught when he watched her hand the cups to a coworker.

SANDS

He chuckled, knowing there was some rite of passage to having a barista spell your name wrong. He wandered over to the pickup window, trying to think of a good pun or joke to use with it.

He wondered if he could make Red laugh.

—Red—

Halfway back to the table, Red lost his nerve. He let go of Mutt’s collar and approached the table with a small wave.

His off hand was clenched tightly deep in his pocket.

“didn’t expect t’ see yeh all here,” he said. He grunted as Mutt leaned on him again, arms crossed over his head. He shoved at the taller skeleton, but Mutt seemed determined to annoy him.

“WE DID NOT EXPECT TO SEE YOU, EITHER!” Blue said with a frown. “YOU HAVEN’T BEEN AROUND MUCH.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed. He leaned back, balancing precariously as he sipped on his coffee. “when was the last poker night? must’ve been at least a month ago. feels like it’s been more’n that.”

Papyrus was looking toward the registers, expression and demeanor neutral.

“been busy,” Red said with a shrug, desperately hoping no one asked for particulars.

“SO HAS EDGE,” Blue said as his frown deepened. He pointed accusingly at his alternate, who hadn’t stopped looking through the ledger in front of him. “YOU’RE STARTING TO BE AS BAD AS BLACK!”

“IT IS BECOMING A PROBLEM,” Papyrus agreed as he focused back on the conversation, turning his frown to the coffee mug in front of him. “I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO DISCUSS PUZZLE TECHNIQUES IN AGES.”

“I COULD TALK TO YOU ABOUT PUZZLE DESIGN!” Blue argued, eyes bright, excited by the idea.

“AND IF I WANT TO TALK ABOUT PUZZLES THAT CAN BE SOLVED WITH WIT ALONE, I WILL TALK TO YOU IMMEDIATELY,” Papyrus said with a bright smile.

Pride soothed, Blue returned the smile. He jumped when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

“OH! STARS,” he said as he pulled it out to silence it. “I HADN’T REALIZED HOW LATE IT WAS. PAPYRUS? STRETCH? WE SHOULD GET READY TO GO. THE MOVIE IS STARTING SOON!”

“THEN WE SHOULD LEAVE POSTHASTE!” Papyrus said, standing and pulling a thick coat around his shoulders.

“WE CAN AT LEAST SAY OUR ‘GOODBYES,’ PAPYRUS,” Blue said with a laugh. “WE’RE NOT GOING TO MISS ANYTHING.”

“TO BE GREAT ONE MUST ALWAYS ARRIVE AT LEAST FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLY. NOT A MOMENT SOONER, NOR LATER!” Papyrus secured his scarf with a flourish.

Blue frowned, glancing toward the registers.

“PAPYRUS, ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT TO SAY ‘HI’ TO SA – “

“STRETCH! THE CINEMA ON FOURTH STREET, IF YOU WOULD?” Papyrus said sharply, making everyone jump. He blushed, bowing his head. “I’M SORRY. I DO NOT WISH TO MISS THE PREVIEWS.”

“don’t worry about it,” Stretch said as he patted Papyrus’ shoulder. He raised his hand in a wave. “see ya later, red. mutt.” He gave the latter a fist bump. Then he waved a hand in front of Black’s face before saying, “black.”

Before he could respond, Stretch had vanished with Blue and Papyrus.

Black scowled at the empty spot they left, the expression quickly deepening with rage.

“THEY DIDN’T EVEN BOTHER TO CLEAN UP AFTER THEMSELVES!”

Mutt laughed as he wandered around to take a seat next to his brother.

“they were runnin’ late for their show, bro. it’s not like you’ve never left a mess before. remember at … was it breadbasket?”

“HOW WAS I TO KNOW?!” Black responded, defensive and sharp. He hid behind his ledger, only succeeding in making Mutt laugh harder. “THE HUMAN WAITSTAFF HAD BUSSED TABLES NEAR US! I THOUGHT IT WAS PART OF THE OFFERED SERVICES!”

“nowhere that has ya self-serve drinks is gonna bus your tables for you, bro,” Mutt said as his chuckles died down. He wiped at an eye socket with his sleeve.

Red glanced around, checking to see how annoyed the other patrons of the café were at the table’s antics.

He didn’t particularly want to get banned from The Parlor because of the Swapfells.

Sans was leaning against the pick up counter, staring at the floor.

“so, red,” Mutt asked in a low drawl. He was circling the rim of his mug with a finger, leaning lazily on his other hand. His teeth were pulled up in a calculating grin. “whatcha doin’ with sansy?”

“gettin’ coffee,” Red shrugged, “same as you.”

“huh,” Mutt said, sitting up straighter. “i thought yer little ‘date’ happened a month ago?” he frowned. “i didn’t think you’d keep leadin’ him on like this. seems a bit cruel, doncha think?”

“i ain’t leadin’ him nowhere,” Red said, dismissing the accusation.

Mutt looked up, meeting Red’s eyelights. There was a glimmer of something predatory in his eye.

“don’t tell me you caught feelings for him!”

Red glanced behind him, checking that Sans wasn’t coming up to the table. He didn’t want to get caught in some liar-revealed sitcom trope.

Sans was where he’d been the last time Red had checked. Staring at the floor and waiting on their drinks.

“there’s somethin’ weird about him,” Red said as he turned back toward the other two. “i’m tryin’ t’ figure out what it is.”

Mutt frowned, and Black looked up with a raised brow.

“what’s there t’ figure out?” Mutt scoffed with a roll of his eyelights. “papyrus doesn’t like him. pa-py-rus. he likes everyone!”

Red shrugged, unable to do more. He didn’t have time to detail out all the inconsistencies between expectation and reality.

He wasn’t sure how to explain that Sans … didn’t seem to be a bad guy.

That Papyrus might be … wrong.

“there’s somethin’ weird,” Red said, shrugging again as he turned away, waving at the Swapfell brothers over his shoulder. “and i’m gonna figure out what.”

—Sans—

He hadn’t meant to come home late.

Sans had been forced to stop working his hot dog cart by the arrival of winter. As the first snows melted to slush people stopped going outdoors during the day, and it wasn’t profitable enough for the company to continue running his stand.

He’d secretly been grateful. He could use the extra time to catch up on sleep.

He was selfish.

Less than a week later Papyrus was in a panic about the decrease in household income. Sans had tried to tell him it was okay, they’d figure it out, but that had only drawn his brother’s ire.

Lazy.

They had talked about it a few times, and Sans had been looking around for another job as he could, but he hadn’t found anything yet. It was after the holidays, all of the seasonal work had dried up.

Papyrus had finally lost his patience.

He had dragged Sans out of bed early, barely giving him enough time to get dressed before locking him out.

“COME BACK WHEN YOU’VE FOUND A NEW JOB.”

Sans had been all over the city, filling out applications and hoping to hear back from someone.

Anyone.

He’d been busy.

He lost track of time.

Excuses.

He hadn’t meant to come home late.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

Sans kicked off his shoes in the entryway.

“i was lookin’ – looking for a new job, pap,” he explained softly.

Papyrus huffed, stepping in front of Sans to prevent him from getting further into the apartment.

Frustrated and tired, Sans glared up at his brother, only to see the orange tears in the corners of his eye sockets.

Guilt strangled his Soul.

He was such a shitty brother.

He was supposed to be back ten minutes ago. Papyrus must have been worried sick.

After all, with his low hp …

It wouldn’t take much.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL?”

Sans flinched as Papyrus’ voice broke on the last word, looking away.

There was a small pile of dust in the corner.

Strange, for how fastidious Pap was with the cleaning.

Sans closed his eye sockets with a soft sigh.

He didn’t have a good excuse. There was nothing he could say to explain this away. There was only the truth.

Papyrus would not like the truth.

“didn’t have my phone.”

Papyrus had always been fast. Agile. Even as a babybones he had been able to match Sans.

The only reason Sans could beat him was because he had better reaction time.

But between a couple hours of sleep and a day walking the city, he was slow.

Bright stars bloomed in his vision as his head hit the wall with a loud crack.

Far too slow.

Sans would have fallen as his senses came back, had Papyrus not been holding him up by one arm.

“BROTHER.”

His voice was calm, gentle, almost sweet, at odds with the way his hand tightened around Sans’ humerus.

“YOU KNOW YOU’RE TO HAVE YOUR PHONE WITH YOU AT ALL TIMES.”

Sans shrank away from Papyrus’ stern glare, wincing as his grip became painful.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU HAVE IT?”

“i-i-“ Papyrus’ grip tightened at Sans’ stuttering, cutting him off. He clenched his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain.

He couldn’t think of a way to deescalate the situation, and anything he said could set Papyrus off.

He closed his eyes, praying for a miracle. 

“i … ” his voice broke, and he swallowed hard. The dry click was deafening to his ears.

He took a deep breath, trying again.

“… i left it.”

Papyrus’ eyesockets darkened, and his grip on Sans’ arm tightened enough that Sans worried he’d crack the bone.

He fought the whimper that threatened, a lump in his throat.

“WHY.”

Sans struggled with himself. His instincts telling him to fight back, to run, warring with the knowledge that he needed to not struggle.

Struggling would make it worse.

Papyrus’ had flexed.

“i forgot it,” Sans yelped. He looked frantically down the hallway, toward his room. “i was in a rush this morning!”

Orange flushed across Papyrus’ cheekbones as he realized what Sans meant.

As he remembered rushing his brother out of the apartment, not giving him enough time to get everything.

“OH!” He dropped Sans, covering his mouth with both hands. “OH DEAR.”

Sans shuffled back a step, inching his way down the hall.

“WELL!” Papyrus said after a moment. “I SUPPOSE THAT WAS PARTIALLY MY FAULT. … WELL … NO MATTER! THE PAST IS IN THE PAST AND TO BE GREAT WE MUST LOOK FORWARD TO THE FUTURE!” Papyrus flashed a bright smile down at Sans, the entire incident forgiven and forgotten. Sans returned the smile, smaller and with caution.

“WITH THE FUTURE IN MIND … WERE YOU ABLE TO FIND WORK, SANS?”

Sans shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from Papyrus, unable to meet his brother’s eyelights.

“not yet,” he was ashamed to admit. “i applied everywhere i could. even talked to the company that owns the hot dog stand. they sell hot cocoa for the holidays.”

Papyrus sighed, rubbing at his nasal bone in frustration.

“THAT’S ALRIGHT, BROTHER. MY EXPECTATIONS WERE OBVIOUSLY TOO HIGH! I WAS HOLDING YOU TO MY OWN GREAT STANDARDS!” he laughed loudly, hands on his hips. “I NEVER SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED A LAZYBONES LIKE YOU TO FIND GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT IN A SINGLE DAY!”

Sans forced his smile wider, winking and pointing finger guns at Papyrus.

“got me there, bro. i’ll never be as cool as you.”

“EXACTLY! WE CANNOT ALL ACHIEVE THE SAME GREATNESS OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!”

Sans grinned at his brother, glad Papyrus had forgiven him so easily. For forgetting his phone, for coming home late, for not finding a job …

Paps was so cool.

“GO WASH UP FOR DINNER, SANS,” Papyrus said before heading into the kitchen. He opened the oven door and Sans was assaulted by the acrid smell of something burning. “IT’S NEARLY READY!”

“you got it, pap.”

It had been nearly two weeks since he and Red had exchanged numbers.

He had told Papyrus when he got home.

“WAIT FOR HIM TO TEXT FIRST,” Papyrus had suggested. “YOU DON’T WANT TO SEEM PATHETIC AND EAGER, AND I DON’T WANT YOU BOTHERING MY FRIENDS.”

Sans had waited.

And waited.

And  w a  i   t    e     d .

He had held onto his fraying hope, patiently waiting for a call or a text. For something, some communication from Red.

Sans stared at his phone, lying on the mattress next to him.

By the end of the first week, Sans would’ve accepted a carrier pigeon.

But Red didn’t call. He didn’t text.

He didn’t send any pigeons.

Then, over their dinner of burnt mystery casserole, Papyrus had made a gentle suggestion.

“MAYBE RED WAS JUST BEING … NICE?”

And Sans felt the hope in his Soul fade under the weight of doubt and anxiety. He had explained his concern to Papyrus, but the other hadn’t had many words of comfort to share.

He flipped his phone open, saw no new messages, and closed it again.

He must have annoyed Red at the museum somehow.

But there were too many things to apologize for. He had done so many things wrong.

He’d talked too much, too obsessed with astronomy.

He’d focused on his own interests, not even asking Red what he wanted to do. 

He had taken advantage, letting Red get him a ticket to the planetarium.

He was an idiot.

Sans frowned, as he opened his phone again, navigating to the text Red had sent him.

Red had traded numbers after all of that. 

Why would he do that if he hadn’t meant it?

“text if ya wanna hang out.”

Why would he have said that if he hadn’t meant it.

“HE WAS PROBABLY AFRAID OF MAKING YOU ANGRY.”

Sans sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at his dark ceiling.

He wished he was brave enough to demand answers from Red.

The first outing could have been a prank, something Sans had accepted. Papyrus had warned him that Red’s sense of humor could be mean.

But …

There was no reason for him to ask again.

No reason to invite Sans to the museum.

If that had been part of the same prank …

… Red wasn’t that cruel.

Right?

Was Sans really so horrible that Red had decided to torment him?

“HE DOES JOKE ABOUT HIS STANDARDS BEING LOW, BUT … “

Sans sat up, playing with his phone idly as he thought.

Whether it was a prank or not didn’t matter. Maybe Red had been interested in getting to know him better after the coffee thing went well.

Well … he got what he asked for.

It was obvious when Sans thought about it. Red had just been too … nice to tell Sans that he wasn’t interested anymore.

Too nice to tell Sans the truth.

(To tell him that he was a  stupid, worthless, lazy trash bag)

“… NOBODY HAS STANDARDS THAT LOW.”

Red had been trying to have a good time. Sans had ruined it by being ungrateful and selfish.

Once he’d gotten home, after giving Sans his number, Red would have had time to think out the day. He would have realized how shitty Sans had been. Maybe he had talked to Edge.

Maybe he’d talked to Papyrus. It would explain why he’d brought it up at dinner.

Maybe he didn’t tell anyone, ashamed to have even given Sans a chance.

Sans had been self-interested, self-centered, only caring about his own enjoyment.

He hadn’t even asked Red if he wanted to see anything else in the museum.

Sans resisted the urge to hurl his phone into the trash tornado, instead shoving it into his pocket. He didn’t need to break it further, it was already near-unusable.

It didn’t really matter. Nothing did.

The outcome had been decided and nothing could change it.

Red didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

He sighed, slumping against the wall.

Red probably regretted his decision to exchange numbers as soon as he sent a text to himself. Too late to take back.

He probably hoped Sans wouldn’t contact him.

Sans didn’t want to be annoying.

With a groan he rubbed at his eye sockets with the heels of his hands and focused on his breathing. Trying to calm down.

He didn’t want Papyrus to see he was upset. Didn’t want to bring his brother’s mood down like he always did.

If Papyrus was right – and he rarely wasn’t – then Red would text. If (when) he didn’t it was because he had more important things to do than entertain someone like Sans.

In all likelihood, he did have better things to do than talk to Sans.

In the end, Sans’ best option was to do … nothing.

Fortunately, that was the one thing he was good at.

—Sans—

He hadn’t meant to come home late.

Sans had been forced to stop working his hot dog cart by the arrival of winter. As the first snows melted to slush people stopped going outdoors during the day, and it wasn’t profitable enough for the company to continue running his stand.

He’d secretly been grateful. He could use the extra time to catch up on sleep.

He was selfish.

Less than a week later Papyrus was in a panic about the decrease in household income. Sans had tried to tell him it was okay, they’d figure it out, but that had only drawn his brother’s ire.

Lazy.

They had talked about it a few times, and Sans had been looking around for another job as he could, but he hadn’t found anything yet. It was after the holidays, all of the seasonal work had dried up.

Papyrus had finally lost his patience.

He had dragged Sans out of bed early, barely giving him enough time to get dressed before locking him out.

“COME BACK WHEN YOU’VE FOUND A NEW JOB.”

Sans had been all over the city, filling out applications and hoping to hear back from someone.

Anyone.

He’d been busy.

He lost track of time.

Excuses.

He hadn’t meant to come home late.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

Sans kicked off his shoes in the entryway.

“i was lookin’ – looking for a new job, pap,” he explained softly.

Papyrus huffed, stepping in front of Sans to prevent him from getting further into the apartment.

Frustrated and tired, Sans glared up at his brother, only to see the orange tears in the corners of his eye sockets.

Guilt strangled his Soul.

He was such a shitty brother.

He was supposed to be back ten minutes ago. Papyrus must have been worried sick.

After all, with his low hp …

It wouldn’t take much.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL?”

Sans flinched as Papyrus’ voice broke on the last word, looking away.

There was a small pile of dust in the corner.

Strange, for how fastidious Pap was with the cleaning.

Sans closed his eye sockets with a soft sigh.

He didn’t have a good excuse. There was nothing he could say to explain this away. There was only the truth.

Papyrus would not like the truth.

“didn’t have my phone.”

Papyrus had always been fast. Agile. Even as a babybones he had been able to match Sans.

The only reason Sans could beat him was because he had better reaction time.

But between a couple hours of sleep and a day walking the city, he was slow.

Bright stars bloomed in his vision as his head hit the wall with a loud crack.

Far too slow.

Sans would have fallen as his senses came back, had Papyrus not been holding him up by one arm.

“BROTHER.”

His voice was calm, gentle, almost sweet, at odds with the way his hand tightened around Sans’ humerus.

“YOU KNOW YOU’RE TO HAVE YOUR PHONE WITH YOU AT ALL TIMES.”

Sans shrank away from Papyrus’ stern glare, wincing as his grip became painful.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU HAVE IT?”

“i-i-“ Papyrus’ grip tightened at Sans’ stuttering, cutting him off. He clenched his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain.

He couldn’t think of a way to deescalate the situation, and anything he said could set Papyrus off.

He closed his eyes, praying for a miracle. 

“i … ” his voice broke, and he swallowed hard. The dry click was deafening to his ears.

He took a deep breath, trying again.

“… i left it.”

Papyrus’ eyesockets darkened, and his grip on Sans’ arm tightened enough that Sans worried he’d crack the bone.

He fought the whimper that threatened, a lump in his throat.

“WHY.”

Sans struggled with himself. His instincts telling him to fight back, to run, warring with the knowledge that he needed to not struggle.

Struggling would make it worse.

Papyrus’ had flexed.

“i forgot it,” Sans yelped. He looked frantically down the hallway, toward his room. “i was in a rush this morning!”

Orange flushed across Papyrus’ cheekbones as he realized what Sans meant.

As he remembered rushing his brother out of the apartment, not giving him enough time to get everything.

“OH!” He dropped Sans, covering his mouth with both hands. “OH DEAR.”

Sans shuffled back a step, inching his way down the hall.

“WELL!” Papyrus said after a moment. “I SUPPOSE THAT WAS PARTIALLY MY FAULT. … WELL … NO MATTER! THE PAST IS IN THE PAST AND TO BE GREAT WE MUST LOOK FORWARD TO THE FUTURE!” Papyrus flashed a bright smile down at Sans, the entire incident forgiven and forgotten. Sans returned the smile, smaller and with caution.

“WITH THE FUTURE IN MIND … WERE YOU ABLE TO FIND WORK, SANS?”

Sans shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from Papyrus, unable to meet his brother’s eyelights.

“not yet,” he was ashamed to admit. “i applied everywhere i could. even talked to the company that owns the hot dog stand. they sell hot cocoa for the holidays.”

Papyrus sighed, rubbing at his nasal bone in frustration.

“THAT’S ALRIGHT, BROTHER. MY EXPECTATIONS WERE OBVIOUSLY TOO HIGH! I WAS HOLDING YOU TO MY OWN GREAT STANDARDS!” he laughed loudly, hands on his hips. “I NEVER SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED A LAZYBONES LIKE YOU TO FIND GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT IN A SINGLE DAY!”

Sans forced his smile wider, winking and pointing finger guns at Papyrus.

“got me there, bro. i’ll never be as cool as you.”

“EXACTLY! WE CANNOT ALL ACHIEVE THE SAME GREATNESS OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!”

Sans grinned at his brother, glad Papyrus had forgiven him so easily. For forgetting his phone, for coming home late, for not finding a job …

Paps was so cool.

“GO WASH UP FOR DINNER, SANS,” Papyrus said before heading into the kitchen. He opened the oven door and Sans was assaulted by the acrid smell of something burning. “IT’S NEARLY READY!”

“you got it, pap.”

It had been nearly two weeks since he and Red had exchanged numbers.

He had told Papyrus when he got home.

“WAIT FOR HIM TO TEXT FIRST,” Papyrus had suggested. “YOU DON’T WANT TO SEEM PATHETIC AND EAGER, AND I DON’T WANT YOU BOTHERING MY FRIENDS.”

Sans had waited.

And waited.

And  w a  i   t    e     d .

He had held onto his fraying hope, patiently waiting for a call or a text. For something, some communication from Red.

Sans stared at his phone, lying on the mattress next to him.

By the end of the first week, Sans would’ve accepted a carrier pigeon.

But Red didn’t call. He didn’t text.

He didn’t send any pigeons.

Then, over their dinner of burnt mystery casserole, Papyrus had made a gentle suggestion.

“MAYBE RED WAS JUST BEING … NICE?”

And Sans felt the hope in his Soul fade under the weight of doubt and anxiety. He had explained his concern to Papyrus, but the other hadn’t had many words of comfort to share.

He flipped his phone open, saw no new messages, and closed it again.

He must have annoyed Red at the museum somehow.

But there were too many things to apologize for. He had done so many things wrong.

He’d talked too much, too obsessed with astronomy.

He’d focused on his own interests, not even asking Red what he wanted to do. 

He had taken advantage, letting Red get him a ticket to the planetarium.

He was an idiot.

Sans frowned, as he opened his phone again, navigating to the text Red had sent him.

Red had traded numbers after all of that. 

Why would he do that if he hadn’t meant it?

“text if ya wanna hang out.”

Why would he have said that if he hadn’t meant it.

“HE WAS PROBABLY AFRAID OF MAKING YOU ANGRY.”

Sans sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at his dark ceiling.

He wished he was brave enough to demand answers from Red.

The first outing could have been a prank, something Sans had accepted. Papyrus had warned him that Red’s sense of humor could be mean.

But …

There was no reason for him to ask again.

No reason to invite Sans to the museum.

If that had been part of the same prank …

… Red wasn’t that cruel.

Right?

Was Sans really so horrible that Red had decided to torment him?

“HE DOES JOKE ABOUT HIS STANDARDS BEING LOW, BUT … “

Sans sat up, playing with his phone idly as he thought.

Whether it was a prank or not didn’t matter. Maybe Red had been interested in getting to know him better after the coffee thing went well.

Well … he got what he asked for.

It was obvious when Sans thought about it. Red had just been too … nice to tell Sans that he wasn’t interested anymore.

Too nice to tell Sans the truth.

(To tell him that he was a  stupid, worthless, lazy trash bag)

“… NOBODY HAS STANDARDS THAT LOW.”

Red had been trying to have a good time. Sans had ruined it by being ungrateful and selfish.

Once he’d gotten home, after giving Sans his number, Red would have had time to think out the day. He would have realized how shitty Sans had been. Maybe he had talked to Edge.

Maybe he’d talked to Papyrus. It would explain why he’d brought it up at dinner.

Maybe he didn’t tell anyone, ashamed to have even given Sans a chance.

Sans had been self-interested, self-centered, only caring about his own enjoyment.

He hadn’t even asked Red if he wanted to see anything else in the museum.

Sans resisted the urge to hurl his phone into the trash tornado, instead shoving it into his pocket. He didn’t need to break it further, it was already near-unusable.

It didn’t really matter. Nothing did.

The outcome had been decided and nothing could change it.

Red didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

He sighed, slumping against the wall.

Red probably regretted his decision to exchange numbers as soon as he sent a text to himself. Too late to take back.

He probably hoped Sans wouldn’t contact him.

Sans didn’t want to be annoying.

With a groan he rubbed at his eye sockets with the heels of his hands and focused on his breathing. Trying to calm down.

He didn’t want Papyrus to see he was upset. Didn’t want to bring his brother’s mood down like he always did.

If Papyrus was right – and he rarely wasn’t – then Red would text. If (when) he didn’t it was because he had more important things to do than entertain someone like Sans.

In all likelihood, he did have better things to do than talk to Sans.

In the end, Sans’ best option was to do … nothing.

Fortunately, that was the one thing he was good at.

—Red—

Sans’ pun surprised Red and for a moment all he could do was stare at his alternate. After his earlier attempt had fallen flat he had assumed Sans shared his brother’s hatred of wordplay.

He was even more surprised when Sans let out a short bark of laughter, both at his own joke and at Red’s expression. He quickly covered his mouth and attempted to stifle himself, a blue-grey blush coloring his cheekbones.

Red found he liked the sound of Sans’ laughter.

It was genuine and warm, low and melodic.

… He wanted to hear it more.

Red looked away from Sans, ignoring the way his own cheeks warmed. He collected himself as he focused on folding the map.

He had hoped Sans would share his interest in astronomy. It wasn’t too much of a surprise – all the other Sanses had similar interests. But not liking astronomy wouldn’t be the first time Sans was an outlier.

But if Red was going to spend more time with Sans in an attempt to figure out why the Tale brothers didn’t get along … he might as well enjoy himself.

And Red could live in the Planetarium and not grow tired of it.

He led the way to the astronomy wing, glancing back to catch Sans’ reaction to seeing it for the first time.

It was everything Red had hoped for.

Sans’ eyelights lit up, blindingly bright, and his smile stretched wide. He seemed taller, like he was standing up straighter.

Like he wasn’t trying to make himself as small as possible.

He was all but vibrating with excitement.

“c’mon,” Red said with a grin, his own excitement rising in response to Sans, like a contact high. He jerked his head in the direction fo the planet models. “let’s start over there.”

Sans didn’t need more encouragement than that, and he quickly lost himself in reading the informational placards and looking at the displays.

“it’s too bad we don’t have a scale model of the solar system in ebbot,” Sans said softly after he had spent some time staring at the little Earth model and its moon.

“whaddya mean?” Red asked. “these are scale, ain’t they?”

Sans waved a hand, “they’re scaled for size, not distance. It’s still cool, seeing the sheer difference between earth and jupiter, but it’s hard to get a good sense of how far away jupiter is from earth, y’know?”

“i dunno if I’d be up to that much walkin’,” Red said with an exaggerated yawn. “space is … spacious. does that sorta thing even exist?”

Sans nodded, his attention on a sign about the asteroid belt.

“there’s a bunch walkable and drivable scale models, all over the world. the sagan planet walk in ithaca, one in vienna, another in melbourne. there’s one in munich called the planet walk. the biggest is in sweden – it spans the whole country.”

Red wondered, but didn’t ask, how Sans knew about those when he didn’t know the local museum had a planetarium.

Sans mumbled something too soft for Red to hear, but he didn’t push for the other to repeat himself. Instead he let Sans get lost in the informational placards and models again, while he went over to the planetarium to see what was showing.

The next show started soon, and was one of Red’s favorites. While it tread into science fiction rather than fact, it was still built on sound science. Its focus was on what life might look like if humans ever left Earth to become star-farers. Beginning with more-realistic colonization of the moon and Mars, ending with distant future marvels like Dyson spheres and ring worlds. It even dove into the concepts of wormholes and warp drives, and how they might be created.

It was aspirational. Inspiring.

Red bought two tickets and went to find Sans, who was more-or-less where he’d been left.

“hey,” Red said as he approached, causing Sans to jump. Red gave an apologetic smile and held up the tickets. “they got a show startin’ in ten minutes. wanna find some seats?”

“show?” Sans asked. He frowned at the tickets in Red’s hand, beginning to curl in on himself again. “i … i don’t have the g … ”

“don’t worry about it,” Red said with a shrug and a wave of his hand. “it’s on me.”

Sans raised a brow bone at him, eyelights dimming with uncertainty.

“y-you … you mean it?” He asked.

“ya don’t have to make a big deal about it,” Red answered, annoyance bleeding into his tone. Sans flinched, shrinking away.

Red sighed, his annoyance fading to worry.

“it’s fine,” he said. “i wanna see it, an’ boss’d dust me if i just … abandoned ya.”

Sans still looked uneasy so Red added, “seriously. don’t worry about it.”

“o … okay,” Sans answered, and he looked up to meet Red’s eyelights with a shaky smile. “thanks.”

Red only glanced at Sans once during the show.

He’d had them sit in the back, away from everyone else. Their glowing eyelights bothered the human guests, something that Red had dealt with before.

It turned out to be a good decision.

Sans’ eyelights were glued to the whirling cosmos above them, bigger and brighter than Red had ever seen them.

They didn’t rival Blue’s cyan stars, they dwarfed them.

The smile on his face was euphoric and real. Open with wonder and awe.

Red knew that was the same smile he’d worn when he had first been in this room, watching a film similar to this. The same smile he’d worn that first night on the surface, after the sun had set and the stars came out.

He tried to ignore the feelings Sans’ smile raised in his Soul.

They spent the entire afternoon in the astronomy wing.

Sans went from exhibit to exhibit, reading every placard over and over again.

Like he was trying to encode every detail to memory.

“what’d ya like most?” Red asked as they passed through the gift shop on their way out of the museum. When Sans didn’t answer he glanced back, only to find him holding a NASA mug, eyelights hazy. “sans?”

Sans jumped, putting the mug back and smiling at Red.

“i liked everything,” he said as he caught up to Red. “actually seeing the difference in size between earth and the gas giants was … awesome. puts everything into perspective, how tiny our planet is in the universe. and the pictures? from the surfaces of the moon and mars? from the surface of venus?! it’s amazing what humans have been able to accomplish without magic or a functional understanding of quantum theory. imagine what they’ll be able to do once they start allowing monsters into scientific fields!

“and the moon rock! that little piece of grey basalt is extraterrestrial! and humans brought it here through explosions and mad science! they decided to go to the moon, built a rocket, went there, and brought back a rock. that’s insane!

“and the setup dedicated to what the first mars colonies might look like? so cool.

“and the planetarium show … i can’t begin to describe it. the models of potential exoplanets were fantastic, and the projections of how we might terraform a planet?” Sans sighed happily. “i could spend forever exploring every bit of that wing and never get bored.”

Red laughed in agreement.

“getcha talkin’ about this stuff and ya never shut up, do ya?” Red teased.

He had been enjoying Sans’ exuberance and excitement. He had meant the comment to be playful. He had been the same way the first time he’d come to the museum, spending the whole night ranting to Edge about everything he’d seen.

He expected Sans to blush that pretty blue grey color, maybe be a little embarrassed. Maybe comment something back.

He didn’t expect Sans to deflate. To look away, ashamed, as he crumpled back into his usual slouch. For the bright lights of his eyes to dim, and his grin to fall back into the stiff mask he usually wore, the joy gone like it had never been there.

“s-sorry,” Sans stuttered, voice soft. “i don’t … i didn’t … i’m sorry.”

Red was lost in the wake of Sans’ sudden emotional shift, and he kicked himself for causing it.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” Red said carefully. “i get the same way. space is cool, y’know? sorry.”

Sans shrugged and shook his head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

He turned away from Red, and Red let him. He waited as Sans collected himself.

He hid the pain he felt in his Soul when Sans finally turned around to face him, smiling mask in place.

Sans didn’t meet Red’s eyes.

“thanks … for inviting me,” he said. “i had a lot of fun.”

He glanced at the sky, awash in reds and pinks as the sun sank below the horizon.

“i should probably get back,” he said, more to himself than to Red. He looked back at the ground, grey-blue blush on his cheekbones. “i don’t wanna be a bother, after you brought me here, but … could i bum a ride home? i don’t have money for bus fare.”

“yeah, sure,” Red said, off balance from Sans’ mood swings. He offered his arm and pulled them both to the street outside the Tale brother’s apartment building as soon as Sans had grasped it.

Sans stepped back as soon as they were on the other side of the void.

“thanks,” he repeated as he turned to the building.

He took a single step forward, and then stopped. Red could see he was staring at one of the windows, could see his smile ticking away by fractions.

“hey,” Red said.

Sans let out a shuddering breath as he glanced back, eyes wide.

Red rubbed the back of his skull awkwardly as he looked away. “you, uh. ya got a phone, right?”

Sans frowned but nodded, turning fully as he dug it out of his pocket.

“we should exchange numbers,” Red said, the words coming out in a rush before he could regret them. “it’d make it easier to hang out.”

He watched as Sans’ expression did an emotional speed run. Confusion, anger, refusal, relief … acceptance. He held out his phone.

It was an old flip phone. Dumb, worn down, and well out of date. Between the scratches, the LCD burn, and a crack on the lower right that had killed a substantial number of pixels, the screen was nearly unreadable.

It looked a lot like the phone Red had used when they were still in the Underfell Underground, long since tossed for a nicer smartphone now that they were on the Surface.

He pushed aside his questions, although they bounced in his head like ping pong balls.

Why is Sans’ phone so … shit?

Doesn’t Papyrus have a fancy smart phone?

Red flipped through the options, sending himself a text message before handing the phone back to Sans.

“now we got each other’s numbers,” Red said with a lopsided grin, hoping it hid his uneasiness. “text if ya wanna hang out.”

Sans nodded, and the last thing Red said as he stepped through the void was his grin.

Wide and bright again, open and sincere.

The void closed in around him and Red was alone.

He collapsed in his bed, trying to quiet his racing thoughts and to ignore the feeling gnawing at his Soul.

He was no closer to understanding the rift between the Tale brothers.

—Sans—

Sans stared at the spot Red had been, conflicting emotions battling in his core.

He closed his eye sockets, focusing on his breathing to try to calm his confusion and anxiety.

He wanted to focus on the good parts of the day.

He looked up at the sky. The sun had finally set, but it was still too light to see all but the brightest stars.

He’d spent the entire day surrounded by the cosmos and their mystery.

He glanced at the phone in his hand, seeing the text message Red had sent himself. There wasn’t any content, just a single word.

hey

Red had given him his number.

Sans closed his phone and slid it into his pocket, smiling with relief.

He hadn’t fucked up.

Despite everything. Despite not having the money, despite not leaving the astronomy wing, despite talking too much …

He hadn’t fucked up.

—Red—

The problem, Red decided, was that he was both too damn curious and too damn stubborn to ignore his curiosity.

It was going to get him killed someday.

It had been a week since he’d taken Sans to The Parlor, and he hadn’t been able to get the Tale skeleton out of his skull.

He didn’t really want to talk to Sans again. He didn’t have any objections to how the date had gone, but he still didn’t like Sans. Besides, he’d gone this long without interacting with his softer counterpart.

(He tried to tell himself that Sans probably wouldn’t notice or care that Red had ghosted him. Tried not to care that he didn’t know if it was true or not.)

But …

There was something about the Tale skeleton that bothered Red.

The disconnect between who Red thought Sans would be and the reality of the person he’d met, was driving him crazy.

He couldn’t square away the way Papyrus acted with the way Sans had been at the cafe.

It was possible Sans was manipulative. That the quiet, shy, polite skeleton he’d gotten coffee with didn’t exist. That it was an act, a facade.

But it had been so genuine. Genuine enough to not only fool Red, but the Judge as well.

Red couldn’t let it go. He had to know the truth or he’d drive himself insane.

Which is why he was here on his day off, standing in front of the Tale brothers’ apartment, trying to talk himself into/out of knocking on the door.

Goddamn his curiosity. He could only hope solving the riddle of the Tale skeletons would keep him alive.

“fuck it,” Red muttered as he finally knocked on the door.

All he needed to do was figure out how Sans had pissed off Papyrus. Once Red knew that he could go back to pretending the older brother didn’t exist.

“it ain’t cookie season so whatever you’re sellin’ we don’t need it,” Sans’ low rumble said as he opened the door. “religion, knives, vacuu- ”

He cut himself off as soon as he saw Red. A grey-blue blush crept onto his cheekbones as he mumbled, “uh … hey, red.”

Sans wasn’t wearing his hoodie, and he looked smaller without it – even wearing two shirts – a greying white tee over a black long sleeved top.

It didn’t help that he’d sort of … hunched in on himself when he saw Red.

The two stared at each other for a minute before canned laughter sounded on the TV, breaking the silence. Sans glanced into the apartment behind him.

“ … y-you want me to get papyrus?”

The question was enough to knock Red out of his analyzing stare.

“nah,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying to look casual. “got a free afternoon. wondered if ya wanted to go to the museum with me. everybody else is busy.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Black and Mutt were both at work, and Blue was on a shopping trip with Stretch. Edge had a night shift, so he was sleeping.

And after one trip to the museum with Papyrus, where the latter had complained the entire time they were in the astronomy wing … well, Red had decided not to go to the museum with just them. It just didn’t make sense when they’d both be miserable.

Sans had straightened a little, perking up at the offer, before wilting again as he thought of something.

“… i’m kinda low on g,” he admitted with an embarrassed shrug.

“it’s on me,” Red said with a wave of his hand. “th’ boss got a membership after blue dragged us there for a third time.”

“i don’t think – ” Sans started, but Red cut him off before he could finish the thought.

“i can get ya in on a guest pass. won’t cost either of us anythin’.”

Sans didn’t respond immediately, expression indecisive and torn. Red felt his grin slip in annoyance. He hadn’t expected this much of a fight.

(What’s he afraid of?)

Red pushed the thought from his skull.

He already had one mystery. He didn’t need another.

“ … okay,” Sans said after a moment. He glanced back into the apartment. “… yeah. sure. just … lemme grab my hoodie.”

Red nodded, watching as Sans disappeared back into the house. He leaned against the wall next to the door while he waited, not wanting to enter the apartment when he wasn’t invited.

Not wanting to have to explain to Papyrus what he was doing there.

With his luck he’d admit everything. The Tale brothers might not get along, but Papyrus would certainly defend his brother if he knew what Red had done. Was doing.

He could hear a rushed conversation, words indistinct under the sound of Mettaton revving a chainsaw. He wondered if he had time for a smoke, and he fiddled with the lighter in his pocket.

He’d begun to rifle through his inventory, searching for his cigarettes, when Sans emerged from the apartment in a rush. He looked around, almost frantic, before he caught sight of Red and his expression brightened with … relief.

(Did he think I left without him?)

Red suppressed the shudder that threatened as guilt crawled up his spine.

Sans closed the door and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, taking up a casual slouch.

“so … how we gettin’ there?”

“its too far to walk,” Red said with an exaggerated wink. “but i know a shortcut.”

Sans snorted and held out an arm without taking his hand from his pocket. As soon as Red had a grip on Sans’ humerus, he pulled them through the void.

—Sans—

Going through the void was easier when he had warning. But it was never easy.

Sans stumbled out of it on the other side, pushing away the weakness that always came from teleportation. It was worse lately, causing headaches and nausea.

He hoped he hid it well enough from Red. He didn’t want a repeat of his episode from last time.

(Red already thought he was weird. Better to not prove him right.)

He focused on the building in front of him.

Sans stared up at the ornate, two story building, feeling uncomfortably small and out of place as Red led him to the admissions line.

(You don’t belong here.) A voice hissed in his head.

It was right, of course. It always was. He didn’t belong here, He wasn’t … worthy of it.

Sans was too small. Too insignificant and stupid.

He couldn’t really appreciate this place.

And then he noticed the humans.

They were everywhere.

Even after moving to the Surface, Sans wasn’t used to them. 

Papyrus hadn’t thought it … wise for Sans to be around humans much. It’s why he had pushed so hard for Sans to take a night security job where he would be the only one on shift.

It was lonely, but Sans agreed that Papyrus was right. He usually was.

He was cool like that.

Besides, humans made Sans uncomfortable at best.

A child broke into laughter nearby, the sound shrill and sudden and too much. Sans flinched, bumping into Red as he tried to get as far from it as possible.

Before Red could disapprove Sans backed up, apologizing softly.

“so,” Red said after the laughter died off and Sans began to relax again. “what d’ya wanna see first?”

Sans shrugged, “wherever you wanna go is fine.”

He didn’t want to admit that he had never been here.

Papyrus had told him about the museum, having visited numerous times with the others. He’d talked excitedly about the aquarium and butterfly forest, and had been completely fascinated by the skeletons and fossils in the natural history wing, eerie as it was.

Everything he’d talked about sounded interesting, but nothing truly caught Sans’ attention.

One of the cashiers waved at them, cutting off any response Red might have had.

Sans stayed a step behind his companion, feeling out of place as Red flirted with the receptionist, dropping a cheesy pick up line and calling her “sweetheart.” She responded by rolling her eyes and calling him a flirt, calling him by name. She printed out the tickets and handed them to Red with an informational pamphlet.

Sans didn’t feel any more comfortable inside the museum. The entrance was huge, opened up to the roof, allowing natural light to brighten the space through the skylights. To one side was the gift shop, to the other a little cafe.

Red motioned toward the latter, silently leading Sans to an unoccupied table.

(Couldn’t even make a simple decision. Go home. This place isn’t for trash like you.)

Sans should have just … chosen somewhere to go. One of the places Papyrus had been excited about. The aquarium sounded nice, at least …

As he took the seat next to Red he was going to say as much, only to be stopped when Red unfolded the pamphlet to reveal a map.

“upstairs is th’ natural history wing,” Red said, pointing it out. “it’s mostly taxidermies an’ fossils, but the geology section rocks.”

Sans wasn’t sure if the pun was intentional or not, and he didn’t want to risk Red hating them as much as Papyrus did.

It was mostly Red’s grin that let Sans feel comfortable enough to give a soft chuckle at the joke. Like he knew exactly what he said and meant it.

Red slumped a little at his lackluster response, and Sans tried to hide his elation at that.

‘red likes puns,” he whispered silently, almost too afraid to even think the words.

Red shrugged, pointing out other spots on the map.

“downstairs is th’ aquarium, it’s small but pretty interestin’. makes me wonder how humans stand swimmin’ in th’ ocean, with all that goin’ on in it. on this level they got the entrance to the rain forest an’ botanical wing here, and the planetarium here.”

“planetarium?” Sans echoed softly.

Papyrus had never mentioned a planetarium. He’d talked about every animal in the aquarium, at length, but he’d never so much as hinted that the museum had anything about the stars.

Of course, space was Sans’ interest, not Papyrus’.

Papyrus didn’t mention it because he likely never visited it. He’d always found Sans’ obsession with space … strange. Before Frisk had fallen he had treated it like a childish fascination.

Like he was just waiting for Sans to grow out of his stupid fantasies.

“yeah,” Red said, pointing to an area of the map. “whole wing on physics and space, too. y’ didn’t know?”

Sans shook his head, staring at the word under Red’s sharp phalange.

“i’ve never been here,” he admitted softly. “nobody told me, and i … ”

‘never bothered to look at what exhibits the museum had.’

(Why bother when you’d never visit?)

“… didn’t think to look into it.”

Red frowned at him, and he worried that his tone betrayed his thoughts. He did his best to shrug off the concern in the other’s expression.

“i’ve never had the g to come,” Sans said with a wide smile, waving his hands like he could brush away Red’s unease. “it never seemed important.”

Red’s frown only deepened, and Sans decided to stop while he was ahead. He looked back at the map, trying to figure out what to say.

He stared at the word still under Red’s finger.

Planetarium

He didn’t want to impose. He didn’t want to drag Red to do the things he wanted to do.

But … he had to be realistic.

This was his only chance to explore the museum. He doubted Red would bring him a second time, and he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have the G to come on his own.

Between Papyrus’ school costs and all the other bills they had, Sans usually only had enough for bus fare if he needed it.

“can we start there?” he asked Red’s finger in a whisper, unwilling to meet the other’s eyelights.

(You’re asking for too much. Don’t be greedy.)

If there was only one thing he could see, he wanted it to be the planetarium. Everything else sounded cool – fascinating even – but he wouldn’t regret it if he never had the chance to see them. Not really.

Not like he’d regret knowing there was a section of the museum dedicated to the stars and never seeing it.

“yeah,” Red said, and Sans snapped his head up to see the other smiling at him with a toothy grin, almost as excited as he was. “it’s the best!”

‘red likes the stars.’

The thought was a hope, a tiny prayer to anyone listening. Sans could barely believe it.

“i bet it’s stellar.”