Sans - Chapter 1

“ugh, this shouldn’t be so hard!” he groaned, palming his eye sockets in frustration. It had been a long night.

He didn’t dislike his work. Especially when he could get paid to take a month off for personal projects. Being a scientist for the biggest lab in the whole Underground was actually pretty freaking cool. Even if he was stuck under a freaking mountain. Resources were somewhat limited as a result, and Sans had accepted long ago that he would probably never get to see the stars for real. But it wasn’t all bad. It paid the bills. And he’d come up with some pretty cool stuff. There was a certain sort of pride that came with being a scientist, and having the skills to solve complex problems with the best solutions.

Today, though, he simply could not figure out what needed fixing.

“c’mon, ya stupid hunk-a-junk! i don’t have the time for this,” he mumbled, suppressing a small grin. Sometimes, he really cracked himself up. Sans turned from the hulking box in front of him and crossed his small lab to review his schematics yet again. He reached into his lab coat pocket for a pen, being sure to grab a ketchup packet with it. Sometimes, ya just needed a boost. He clicked the pen against the side of his skull and sat down at his stool.

“if you wanna help me get appointed as royal scientist, you gotta start cooperating with me, y’know.” He poured over his calculations. What was he missing? Or was it something extra?

Suddenly, just as he was about to make a correction, a single, dirty sock appeared on his counter.

Sans looked up at the sock. He looked back down at his blueprints. Back at the sock. His soul fluttered for a moment. and a huge grin began to plaster itself on his face. He’d done it!

Leaning back on his stool, Sans opened the ketchup packet. This definitely called for celebration. He chuckled softly as he downed the packet in one go.

“heh, and here i thought i was gonna have to clock out tonight before i made any progress!”

Which reminded him: he should probably take note of the time.

He grabbed the pen again and quickly scribbled the time on a scratch piece of paper, making sure to emphasize it with several messy circles. Then he compared it with his notes. Frankly, it was a miracle the sock had shown up at all. This was the first time in weeks he’d been able to get it to do that. But it had still shown up about two minutes late. Precision was key. After all, time travel must take into account every single nanosecond if it’s going to be taken seriously.

Sans poured over his blueprints, the lights of his eye sockets dilating a little as he scanned his information. Where was the anomaly? Where was the problem? There! He’d found it! And much to his relief, it was only a minor miscalculation. Easy fix. How had he not seen it before? He bounced back over to the machine in the corner of the lab and made the adjustment in the program. Looking back over to the sock on the counter all the way across the room, he paused, shrugged, then took off his shoe and removed the other sock. Being barefoot in a scientific lab was probably not the worst thing he could do, right? He opened the door of the box and threw the sock in. He set the timer and closed the door. It’d be just like waiting for toast to pop up if it worked perfectly this time.

Sans leaned against his machine, rolling up his too-big coat sleeves. He couldn’t suppress a yawn as he dug around for another ketchup packet. He glued his eye sockets to his watch, forcing himself to keep his lids open. He could wait just a little longer. 17 seconds left...13...10...5,4,3,2…

As if on cue, the lone sock on the counter was instantaneously joined by its partner. It was almost as if both had always been there.

Perfect.

He shuffled back over to the blueprints and made his adjustments. This was it, then. He’d run some more sock tests tomorrow, and then he’d try it himself. If all went well there, he’d take his invention to Asgore.

“you’re gonna make your mama real proud tomorrow if you keep it up,” he patted the machine. “but for now, i think we’ll call it a day.”

Sans didn’t even bother to grab his socks off of the counter. He threw his lab coat on the floor, next to its designated hook on the wall, shrugged his favorite blue jacket on, flipped the lights, and closed the door behind him. He rummaged around in his shorts pocket for the key.

Once the lab was securely locked, Sans made his way still barefoot to the front of the house He brushed the snow already starting to dust his shoulders before opening the door and stepping inside.

“hey, paps! what’s cookin’ tonight, bro?”

“HELLO, BROTHER! YOU’RE BACK LATE. I’VE GOT SOMETHING SPECIAL COOKING TONIGHT. UNDYNE SHOWED ME AN EXTRA-SPECTACULAR RECIPE FOR SPAGHETTI TODAY!”

Ah, good ol’ Papyrus. Never one to disappoint. If nothing else, at least he was dependable. Maybe someday Sans would be able to add “makes edible spaghetti” to the list of great things about his brother, too. Sans grinned and began emotionally preparing himself for the coming battle he was going to have to face. Surely, he’d be the strongest monster of them all by the time Pap made food that actually tasted good. His HP may even shoot all the way up to 40 by the end of tonight alone. He’d already conquered any number of...well... monstrous dishes before. What was one more? He could already smell it. It smelled...different...that much credit he could give it.

“oh, boy! can’t wait, bro! it smells...strong.”

“OF COURSE IT SMELLS ‘STRONG,’ SANS - IT’S UNDYNE’S RECIPE!”

“oh, yeah, right. i guess that would make sense,” Sans shrugged. “guess it’d be an im pasta if it wasn’t strong, coming from her!”

It gave Sans no greater joy than to watch his brother’s face screw up a little. Geez, it looked like the guy was having a miniature mental breakdown!

“SANS, MUST YOU MAKE MY LIFE A CONSTANT JOKE!?” Papyrus cried, shredding mozzarella straight into the pot. Were you normally supposed to do that when making spaghetti?

“what, bro? these puns startin’ to grate on your nerves or something?” Papyrus promptly put the mozzarella down.

“HONESTLY!” was all Papyrus could manage, fighting a smile. He’d never in a million years admit it, but deep down, Sans knew Papyrus thought his puns were funny. If he didn’t, Sans would never dump as many on him.

“SO...DID YOU FINISH WHAT YOU WANTED TO FINISH DOWN THERE?” he asked as he shoveled a heaping pile of the “strong spaghetti” onto a plate. “YOU WERE IN THERE A VERY LONG TIME TODAY - VERY NEARLY 11 HOURS!”

“uh, yup. i figured it all out,” Sans replied, stifling another yawn. Who even made dinner at 11:45 at night? Well, apparently Papyrus. It sure was nice of him to wait up for him, though. Not that Paps would have been sleeping anyway.

“OH, THAT’S GREAT NEWS!” Papyrus exclaimed, clapping his hands together before turning to pile up a second plate of pasta. “...WHAT EXACTLY WAS IT THAT YOU WERE TRYING TO DO IN THERE AGAIN?”

Sans laughed to himself. “as i’ve mentioned before it’s a machine that’ll transport my socks through time and space. that way, they stay dirty for as long as i want and you never have to see them!”

“OH, SANS, THAT’S DISGUSTING! LOOK, IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO WASH THOSE...MONSTROSITIES...AT LEAST LET ME BURN THEM.”

“now, bro, no need to get fiery about it! they’re just socks - and they’re not even yours!” Oh, that one was good. He’d have to hold onto that one for sure.

“OH, PLEASE, THE ONLY FIERY THING AROUND HERE IS THE SMELL OF YOUR CLOTHES.”

“that, and maybe this spaghetti. if ya don’t mind my sayin’.” Sans cut in, tentatively taking a forkful of noodles and guiding it to his mouth. It passed his teeth, and settled in the back of his throat. Whether the stuff actually went down or not, he couldn’t really tell. All he knew was that he had made a huge mistake. His mouth burned icy-hot. How could a plate of spaghetti even do that!? The taste was...indescribable.

“IS IT GOOD? OR...AT LEAST BETTER THAN THE LAST ONE?” Papyrus sat down at the other end of the small table and eagerly waited for Sans’ response.

“it’s, uh...well, it’s different, i’ll give it that,” was all Sans could manage. He fought the urge to grimace as he pushed another bite into his mouth.

Papyrus grinned and tucked into his spaghetti with gusto. Sometimes, Sans wondered if his brother even had tastebuds. Like, maybe he just couldn’t taste anything. Rarely did the taste of his...creations...ever seem to bother the guy. After the first bite of this latest attempt, though, his grin fell.

“OH, DEAR. I’M SORRY, SANS. USUALLY, I CAN FORCE MYSELF THROUGH MY OWN CONCOCTIONS, BUT THIS ONE MAY BE TOO MUCH EVEN FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS.”

Well, this was a new development. Seems the skeleton had tastebuds after all! Tastebuds that worked , even.

“hey, don’t worry about it, bro. y’know i always like your spaghetti,” he tried to crack another smile, but he was pretty sure it came off as more of an expression of pain.

“OKAY, WELL, IF YOU’RE GOING TO SUBJECT YOURSELF TO IT, THEN IT IS MY SOLEMN DUTY TO POWER THROUGH AS WELL!” Papyrus’ glare hardened as he sized up the plate before him. He raised his fork high in the air. “SHING!” he cried, before driving the fork down into the pile of pasta. In the same fluid motion, he brought a much-too-large globule to his mouth and downed it without a moment’s hesitation. An involuntary shudder wracked his body, but the defiant spark in his eye sockets remained. Sans couldn’t help but laugh.

Despite the appalling things the food was already starting to do to his frame, Sans pressed on. They decided to make it a contest. Pap would take a bite. Sans would take a bigger bite. Pretty soon, they were shoving piles of “strong spaghetti” bigger than Papyrus’ hands into their mouths, coughing and choking and laughing the whole time.

“aw, man, pap, that was awful!” Sans laughed through his involuntary tears. “how ‘bout i make dinner tomorrow night, huh?”

“WELL, I CAN’T ARGUE WITH THAT, BROTHER,” Papyrus responded, wiping his own eye sockets. He took a napkin and dabbed his chin. “YOU’VE, EH, GOT A LITTLE SAUCE ON YOUR...WELL, ON YOUR EVERYWHERE…”

Sans shrugged, making a weak attempt at wiping his face with his sleeve.

“it’s whatever, bro. i’ll clean up tomorrow.” Sans got up and dumped his plate on the counter beside the sink. He’d have at least made the effort to put it in the sink, except Papyrus had recently reconstructed it to fit more things underneath. Sans didn’t want to come right out and say he was short, but...well...it seemed that Paps had gotten all the tall genes in the family. Like... all of them. Figured. Younger brothers always got all the height.

“welp. i’m ready to call it a night. whaddya say, paps?”

“WELL, I DO SUPPOSE IT IS ABOUT THAT TIME, NOW. LET ME JUST CLEAN UP HERE, AND I’LL BE UP IN A MINUTE.”

Sans made a mock salute, and ambled out of the kitchen into the living room. They’d never had much. But Sans had scraped and saved every penny he could to get this place. It was spacious enough for the two of them, and Sans had never needed much for himself. Whatever funds from his projects that he could have put toward himself, he preferred to put into savings anyway. It would be nice if they could get a less saggy couch. But y’know. Sans resisted the urge to collapse on it and slowly climbed the stairs, listening to his brother clinking away at the dishes. What a day. He was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. If all went as planned, tomorrow would be a big day, and lately he’d admittedly been over-working himself. It had been a long time since he’d been so devoted to a project. Not since...what was it again? Memory was a little fuzzy. He must really be tired.

By the time he reached the stairs, his legs felt like lead. All he could think of was curling up and dozing off. But first…

Sans pushed through the door, covered in stop signs, caution tape and all manner of other warning paraphernalia, and entered the spacious bedroom. He smiled as he flipped the switch, and a lightbulb from overhead, shaded by a “fancy” plastic mixing bowl illuminated the room. From the neatly organized closet, to the giant human flag on the far wall, to the robot action figure collection Sans - erm...Santa - had given him, the whole room screamed “Papyrus.”

Sans crossed the fire-rimmed rug and grabbed a well-worn book from the bookshelf before coming to sit on the end of the race car bed. Papyrus soon joined him, catapulting himself into the bed and burrowing under the thick, soft covers.

“ready, pap?” Sans asked, opening the book.

“READY!” Papyrus answered, nestling deeper into the blankets.

Sans began to read. It was a good thing he had this one memorized; his vision was starting to swim a little, he was so tired.

By the time he’d gotten to the end of the book, Papyrus was fighting hard to stay awake, too. For how little sleep he seemed to need, he sure got sleepy fast when he wanted to! Sans himself usually couldn’t fall asleep unless it was late at night, in his bed, after a long day of hard work. Sans had a feeling it wouldn’t take too long tonight, though. Papyrus wasn’t the only one nodding off!

“well, bro,” he said, stifling another yawn. “will that do, or do we need to peek at another one tonight?” he winked.

A grimace. “NO, I DON’T THINK THAT’LL BE NECESSARY TONIGHT. THANKS, BROTHER.” A yawn. “GOODNIGHT, SANS. I LOVE YOU.”

It had been the same routine - heck, even the same book - for years. But Sans didn’t mind. It was worth it, if it made Papyrus happy. Especially when he got to hear that every night.

“love you, too, bro. sweet dreams.” Sans got up and quietly turned out the light and shut the door.

Sans shuffled down the hall to his own room. He opened the door and looked around his dark, sparsely decorated room. It was small. The carpet was stained and worn in places. A pile of socks adorned one corner, most of them dirty. He walked over to his dresser and reached up into the lamp, feeling for the flashlight he’d placed in the socket. Why bother with a bulb when batteries were easier to come by anyway?

He flipped the switch. Nothing happened.

“whoops,” he said to himself. “guess i’m all out of bright ideas for tonight.” That was the last of the batteries. Maybe he could look for some more at the dump or something tomorrow, after he’d tested his machine.

Sans didn’t even bother to take off his jacket. He flopped down on the sorry excuse for a mattress shoved into the corner of the floor, grabbing his crumpled sheets and snapping them out so he could get under them. He’d gotten to be quite the slob lately. Usually he at least made his mattress in the mornings, but more and more often, he’d wake up, grab some toast, and head straight down to the lab. He was looking forward to maybe gaining some semblance of organization back after so much time devoted to his work. Papyrus may be the perfectionist, but Sans was no slob. He’d gotten a little careless, sure, but that was because he was busy. He’d clean up tomorrow, after the tests.

The tests. The tests could determine the fate of the underground if they all went well tomorrow. If Sans could make this work, he had the potential to restore at least some hope to all the monsters trapped down here. That’d be something, wouldn’t it? And then there was that tiny possibility that Asgore could make him the Royal Scientist. Like icing on a cinnamon bunny.

Sans smiled a little as he closed his eye sockets. True to his expectations, it didn’t take long to fall asleep.

~

Bright light everywhere. Then Darkness. Sans opened his eye sockets. It didn’t make a difference. He couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. So dark. Where was he?

Just as panic was about to set in, a pinprick of light showed up in his peripheral vision. He turned to look, squinting. It was either very small or very far away; Sans couldn’t really tell. But either way, it was steadily growing larger. Or closer? Still hard to tell. The light began to gain definition. Well, sort of. Not really. But here, a dark spot appeared, there a line. It was frightening, but fascinating.

The thing stopped growing...or getting closer...this lack of sense of space was really messing with him. It shifted and moved, like the way Papyrus used to constantly wriggle whenever he sat in Sans’ lap as a kid. The dark spots began to take on an odd-but-comforting form. It almost looked like...like a -