Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Three years. 

It has been three years since monsters were freed from the Underground.

Three years since monsters began rebuilding their lives on the Surface - of rediscovering their newfound hope and pursuing their now achievable dreams. 

Waking up every morning to the sunrise creeping through the bedroom window, feeling the cool breeze on a partially cloudy day. This was their new normal. 

And yet it all still felt so surreal. 

Sans lumbers out of his room, the early commotion from the kitchen and the subsequent smell of breakfast enticing him from his post-morning nap. 

Resting his hand on the second-floor railings, he allows it to safely guide him down the stairs, his other hand dutifully rubbing the remaining grogginess of sleep from his eye sockets. 

Their new home in Newer Home, as named by their King, was a close replica of their old house back in the Underground - with the addition of a few new rooms, like an extra bedroom, a laundry room, a garage, and an additional bathroom per floor. The first-floor bathroom came exclusively with what humans called “a toilet”. It was primarily used by Frisk and other human visitors for whatever reason. Sans liked to use it as an extra trash can. 

They even had a balcony. Luckily for them, they didn’t have too many trees surrounding the house. It was the perfect place to store Sans’ telescope. 

“Morning, bro.” Sans yawns, making his way toward the dining table. 

Papyrus peeks out from the kitchen doorway, clad in his chef’s hat and apron - both equally caked in batter. “Good morning to you too, Brother!” He greets Sans with a smile. “It’s good to see you up and about so early!”

“How could I miss Papy-cakes Day?” Sans chuckles, sinking into his designated chair. 

“Hmm, if I made Papy-cakes every day… would you be eager to wake up this early every day?!”

“Aww, but then Papy-cakes wouldn’t feel so special.”

Papyrus deflates in resignation. “Alas, you are right, Brother! At least I can get you up and ready on Sundays.”

Papyrus disappears back into the kitchen. Sans’ eyelights trail to the window on his right. A drawer was set right below it, allowing Rocky to bathe in the warm rays of the rising sun. Sans found himself a bit jealous at the new sun-bleach tan Rocky’s got going on. He’s really rocking the new look.

“Heh.”

“What’s so funny, Sans?” Papyrus calls out.

“Just thinking,” He mumbles, a lazy grin tugs on his cheekbones.

The quiet clatter from the kitchen as Papyrus dutifully toiled away at breakfast served as pleasant background noise for Sans to get some extra minutes of shut-eye. Papyrus’ animated humming of Mettaton's latest bops as he flipped his Papy-cakes brought back memories of a much younger Papyrus scrapping burnt tomato sauce off the kitchen walls before his training session with Undyne. 

Thankfully, he and Undyne have started cooking sessions with Toriel. And while he still had some Undyne-taught techniques, the food he served was pleasantly edible. 

Sans jolted out from his daze as a loud grinding noise rattled from the kitchen. Man, he kept forgetting how loud the coffee machine was. They’ve had it for how long now and yet it keeps making him jump out of his skin. 

Sans’ gaze lingers on the chair across from him. His smile falters. 

Papyrus finally emerges from the kitchen, Papy-cakes in hand. 

Papy-cakes were Papyrus’ magnum opus. Even Toriel was impressed with his innate talent to perfectly recreate his face in pancake-form. 

The Papy-cake currently before Sans was winking at him. 

Papyrus sets up the table, placing the necessary utensils with each respective plate before dashing back into the kitchen. He comes back out, two mugs of steaming coffee in hand. 

“Thanks, bro.” Sans takes the offered mug, breathing in the warm bitter aroma of the fresh roast. It didn’t really do much to keep him awake personally, but that didn’t mean he was going to pass off this liquid gold. 

Papyrus beams proudly. “Nyeh heh heh, but of course, Brother! I’m just glad to see you enjoying my hard work!”

Sans takes a slow sip from the mug, savoring the rich flavor as it hits his non-existent tastebuds. Hmm, cinnamon... 

Papyrus is already seated beside him, eagerly digging into a blushing Papy-cake topped with butter. 

“This may be my best batch yet!” He declares. 

Sans’ gaze flickers back to the seat before him.

“Where’s Geno at?”

Papyrus pauses, lowering his fork. “Outside. He should still be on the front porch.”

Sans sighs, setting his coffee to the side. “He’s always on the front porch…”

“Brother, I know you said it would take Geno a while to adjust after… after all that he’s been through, and I assumed that he was getting better…” Papyrus fidgets with his hands, visibly struggling to put together the right words.  

While Papyrus has been nothing but supportive of Geno - serving as his anchor when he’s struggling to stay afloat on certain bad days or by just simply being a comforting presence by Geno’s side - it’s obvious to see that the weight of Geno’s baggage has been taking its mental toll on Papyrus, even if he attempts to hide it. 

“But it feels like he’s… relapsed? Well, not exactly, but you must have noticed it too, right, Sans? Geno still isn’t very keen on leaving the house, and when he does he always seems so distant like, like—”

“Like he’s waiting for something.” Sans looks away from his brother’s gaze. “Yeah, I’ve noticed too. 

“Do you think it’s about the Resets? Is he worrying about them again? But Frisk promised they would never Reset again! They promised to us, promised to him, so why?”

“...he’s probably just scared that, maybe, it’ll all just Reset anyway and go back to the way things were.”

“You mean, with the…” Papyrus looks away, biting his non-existent lips in distress.

“Do you also think like that, Sans?”

Sans looks up to the ceiling. Beyond it, rather than the claustrophobic ceiling of a mountain, a wide blue sky stretched above their heads. 

“Sometimes.” He shrugs. “But I believe that Frisk wouldn’t do that to us. They did promise, after all. But I get why Geno would have his doubts.” He turns to wink at his brother. “Between me and him, he’s more of a glass half-empty kinda guy.”

Papyrus snorts, his furrowed brow smoothing out. “Still, I’m worried about him. I hate seeing him live like this. As if nothing mattered, that’s not a healthy way to live at all!” He sighs, looking out the front window.” 

It sure is a beautiful day outside. 

“I just want to see Geno live his life to the fullest, to pursue his hopes and dreams here on the Surface! But his fear of the past and for the future is holding him back.”

The two brothers sit together in mutual silence. The muted ticking of the living room clock made sure to remind them of the passing seconds, yet none of them could figure out which one should break the silence first. 

Sans decides to take the initiative for once. It was the least he could do.

“Aight,” Sans hops out of his chair. “I’ll talk to him.” Stretching to the side, a loud crack runs up his spine. Papyrus cringes at the unpleasant sound. 

Sans looks back at his brother, a cheeky smile already plastered across his face. “He’s been long overdue for some personal reflection .”

Papyrus’ paled complexion is quickly replaced with a look of suspicion and repulsion. “...was that meant to be a pun?”

Sans shrugs, but his smile still remains. He makes for the front door, forgoing changing into any outdoor shoes. He’s not going far anyways. 

He stumbles onto the front porch, letting the door close on its own. The short skeleton takes a moment to breathe in the fresh air. 

It was nothing like the Underground. 

With a melodic hum, Sans turns to his left. The right side of the porch had more space than the other half, which allowed them to add some extra furniture here and there, like a few outdoor chairs placed here, a little table there, and some flower pots gifted to them from Asgore; they had the dirt but still haven’t gotten around to adding the flowers in yet. 

Papyrus had been adamant about adding a porch swing, having had the privilege of trying one out in a  furniture store when out furniture with Undyne and Alphys. 

It took forever to get it installed, sure, but even Sans had to admit that it was worth it in the end. 

Its novelty still hasn’t worn off. Anytime they had guests over, it was a race to see who could secure a sit on it first. That’s why Sans always made sure to sit on the porch swing before anyone showed up and after they left. 

Of course, he wasn’t the only one who had an unhealthy obsession with their beloved swing porch. Good thing it could fit two people, otherwise things would’ve gotten messier way sooner. 

Sans plops himself down on the free space on the swing. The two occupant’s feet dangled inches above the wooden planks as they gently rocked back and forth.  

Sans winked at his swing buddy. “Hey, Geno. What’s rocking ?” 

The other skeleton seems to startle out from his thoughts. He looks over to Sans, his good eye latching onto him. 

He’s quiet for a moment but it doesn’t take long for a smile to flash on Geno’s face. “Nothing much, nice of you to swing by though.” 

Hook, line, and sinker. “Come on, Geno. I came out all this way. No need to leave me hanging .”

Both skeletons dissolve into a chuckle-fit, throwing out terrible pun after terrible pun. At some point, their neighbor, who was tending to their rosebush, retreats into their house to take cover. 

By the time they’re done, both monsters are blue in the face and out of breath. Which is funny, considering they don’t have lungs and all. 

Sans tells Geno this, which sends the poor guy into a coughing fit. 

“Nah, but seriously,” Sans rasps, wiping a tear from his eyes. “You good, Geno?”

Sans shrinks at how quickly Geno falls silent. Okay, maybe he could have delivered that more smoothly. Welp, what’s done is done. 

“I mean—”

“Why are you asking?” Geno replies, much to Sans’ surprise. He was honestly expecting more resistance, so this is actually a good sign all things considered. 

“Well, me and Paps are just a little worried is all.” Sans starts, his phalanges tapping absentmindedly along the swing’s arm. “We sorta noticed that you were… falling back into old habits. Which is fine, we just wanted to know what was up - see if we could help you out and all.”

Sighing, Sans dares to glance over at Geno. Man, conversations are hard. “You know you're not alone in all this, right? We’re here for you, buddy.”

A few crows are scattered around the front yard. Some are hopping about, tapping the earth with their beaks while others snatch the twigs that litter the lawn. 

They’ve been showing up a lot recently. Is there a nest or something nearby?

“Hmm,” Geno fiddles with his eyepatch. Today it was a simple medical patch. He’d taken to wearing them shortly after being introduced to the Surface. He’d been tired of the barely disguised unease from other monsters and the invasive questions from humans. 

He’d even gotten a few customized eyepatches from Undyne as a gift, the former Captain of the Royal Guard sharing some solidarity with the impaired skeleton. She had even taken to calling Geno the unofficial Vice-Captain of the Eyepatch Club; other members were still pending, although most of them were just pirate enthusiasts. 

A soft hue of blue tickles Geno’s cheekbones before he turns his head away.

“‘S nothing important.” He decides, his attention now fixed on one of the flower pots.  

“I won’t tell Paps if you don’t want me to. It can stay between you and me.”

“No, no, it’s nothing serious.” Geno brushes off. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Well, we’ll be more worried if you keep shutting yourself off, dude. And we both know how bad things can get if we let that happen.”  

None of the two skeletons speak after that for quite some time. The faint tinkling of a windchime, probably from a neighboring house a few blocks down, traverses through the mild breeze and past their block. It brought back wistful memories of the dripstones of Waterfall; each little droplet creating a new note to an endless melody.    

Geno still hasn’t responded. Sans hums, resting his eyes. 

Welp, at least they made some progress - far more than he initially expected, kudos to you, Sans. Maybe, for now, Geno just needed some time to himself to think about what—

“I made a promise to someone.”

Sans jerks, grabbing at the swing’s chain for purchase.

Geno blinks at him in bewilderment, brow raised.  

“Yeesh, Geno.” Sans snorts, grimacing before he can stop himself. He settles himself back more comfortably on the swing, although his entire demeanor screams he’s anything but. “You know we don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to promise—” 

“That I’d wait for them.”

Sans can feel a twitch of his eye socket. “Okay, you need to learn how to finish complete sentences, Geno. No need to be so dramatic.”

Geno stares back unimpressed. “If you would stop freaking out every time I tried talking, maybe I wouldn’t have to stop every time.”

“Aight, my bad. Continue.”

Geno breathes out a heavy sigh, scooting up onto the swing to wrap his arms around his knees. “They said that it might take them a while to come back from… from their work, so I wasn’t that worried at first. They’re,” He chuckles. “They’re a pretty busy guy. Heh, always have been.

“But it’s been a while - longer than I expected. And I don’t know what’s worse to think: that something bad happened to them…” His head drops to his knees. “Or if they just forgot about me.”

All Sans can do is gape at his twin. This was… not at all what he was expecting. 

Existential crisis about power outside of our control? That’s something he knows how to deal with. Relationship advice? He’s still new to that one himself. 

Sans scratches his head, looking anywhere else but Geno. 

Can Papyrus sub in for him with this one?

“It’s fine if you still want to wait for them.” Sans finds himself saying. 

“But just remember, Geno. Do you think they’d want you to wait around for them like this?”

Geno raises his head, his eyelight faintly darting around as if lost in an old memory. 

And judging by his little smile, it was a good one. 

“No… he wouldn’t.” He concludes. 

Sans doesn’t comment on his little slip-up. Instead, he slides himself off the swing.  

“Just think on it for now, no need to rush into anything. Now how about we get back inside, Papyrus is probably still waiting on us.”

“In a little bit.” Geno closes his socket, leaning his head against the swing’s upper railing. “You can go in without me.”

Sans doesn’t say anything at first, simply observing his twin. A mischievous grin fixes on his face as he shrugs. “Aight, guess I’ll just eat all the Papy-cakes then.”

This time it’s Geno’s turn to jerk awake. 

“What?” He snaps. 

“And the coffee.”

“Sans, you fucking fatass bitch—”

“Byeee!”

“Sans!”

As the two skeletons scramble inside - although one might easily mistake the scene as one skeleton chasing after the other with killing intent - a lone raven lands on the arm of the now-empty porch swing. It croaks with indignance at the sudden movement. It waits for the rocking to subside before gently hopping onto the upper rail. Its head bobs up and down as it gawks at the window, its black beady eyes observing the chaos that envelops the three monsters inside. 

Faintly, one might make out a low trill-like sound thrum from the peculiar little creature. 

Chapter Text

The air was starting to get colder. That meant summer was starting to come to an end. And very soon they’d find themselves in Autumn, which in turn would quickly make way for the Winter season - a familiar atmosphere here aboveground, at least for the former Snowdin residents. 

The constant flow of change brought on by the four seasons was something that most monsters native-born in the Underground were never going to get tired of; whether it suddenly began to rain on the day of an extensively planned parade or if the Sun decided to bear down ruthlessly on the day you decided to wear the new skinny jeans you bought for yourself, it beat the monotonous nature of the Underground. Those small few of the populous who survived the war and lived long enough to return to the Surface once more effortlessly embraced it like they would an old friend.

Summer was coming to an end, which was why Papyrus was so insistent that Sans finally take Rocky out for a walk. The poor pebble had been stuck in the house for ages! 

“The least you could do is take him out in the morning, Sans!” Papyrus chastises his brother, hands propped on his hips. “You are being a terribly neglectful pet owner! You’re lucky that I have the time to take care of him when you fail to.” 

Papyrus waits for Sans at the end of the sidewalk. The shorter skeleton saunters over at a leisurely pace. Rocky isn’t too far behind, the leashed pebble rolling energetically beside his lazy owner. 

“He’s a simple guy like me, bro. You’re just spoiling him.”

Papyrus frowns. “Even if that is true, we still need to show him that he is a loved and valuable member of our family!”

“By spending fifty bucks on a collar and leash?”

“First off, it’s a MTT Limited Pet Designer Bundle. Secondly, it was for Rocky’s birthday, which we have unfortunately neglected to celebrate in the past, so we just had to compensate for the missed years - it’s only fair. And thirdly,” Papyrus gestures at Rocky. “He looks quite dashing in his new collar, doesn’t he?”

Sans looks down at the pebble. “He does look pretty cool...”

The brothers cross the street - but not before dutifully looking both ways - continuing down the path. They had no real destination in mind, simply deciding to wander the neighborhood until it eventually led them back home. 

Although they did plan on cutting through the park; apparently, the community garden had an extension done recently. 

The community garden wasn’t anything special at first. Just something to fill in the western side of the park that had just been cleared of the accumulated thicket of poison ivy. It was only when Asgore started hosting Beginner Gardening Lessons there that the garden actually saw some use. 

Most monsters were still getting used to concepts native to the Surface such as its many animals, ecosystems, and vegetation. While some of it was similar to those of the Underground, most were simply unheard of. 

Asgore was one of the first monsters of Newer Home to fully master gardening aboveground - so much so that he even opened up a flower shop in the town square. 

So when the King started providing free beginner-friendly gardening lessons for all residents of Newer Home to take part in, many monsters jumped at the opportunity. Needless to say, the community garden was overflowing with flowers and crops of all shapes and sizes in no time. There were even some flora from the Underground, a lot of the humans who participated were big fans of growing those ones. 

And they ran out of room real quick. Hence the recent extension. 

Papyrus was eager to check it out, not having had the chance to familiarize himself with most of the Surface’s vegetation yet - too busy completing the more urgent things on his bucket list. He was particularly excited to see a Sunflower in person for the first time.  

“Do you think they’ll glow as bright as the Sun or more like Glowing Mushrooms?” 

“I’d lighten to think it’s nothing special like that, but I’d have to seed for myself to be sure.” 

Papyrus gave Sans the silent treatment for the next five minutes of their walk. 

“What time did Geno say he’d be back?” Papyrus asked, finally deciding to break the self-imposed silence. “I’d like to start dinner before he gets home.”

“Ugh, after five. I think.” Sans scratches his head. “Sometimes he leaves early if it's a slow day or if they finish things early. He’s still an intern, so the hours are more lenient for him.” 

It was a surprise to the brothers when Geno announced that he would be starting an internship at Alphys’ new engineering firm, Name Still Pending Inc. - Sans especially, considering their shared past with… him . Nonetheless, the brothers were just happy to finally see Geno going out and doing something for himself. 

Geno was a bit rusty with his physics, but he was starting to read back up on it, having dug up his and Sans’ old textbooks and notes. Alphys was adamant about officially hiring him when he was ready, but for now, he was content with a simple internship; that helped get the gears turning and kept him busy in the meantime.  

Despite being a bit out of practice and a tad overwhelmed with the newer developments in physics, Geno seemed to be doing better. And that was all they could ask for.

“Why don’t you apply, Sans?” Papyrus asks, hopping over a particularly deep puddle that seemed to have collected overnight from the light storm. “I’m sure Alphys would be willing to hire you too! You and Geno both have the same experience, after all.”

“And abandon my successful hotdog-selling business?” Sans shakes his head, trudging through the puddle, completely soaking his new sneakers. Rocky follows, submerging deep into its murky depths. When he rolls out, he’s covered in dirty brown water.  

“Nah, I've spent too much time and resources on my hotdog stand.” 

“Sans, you’ve literally spent no time and resources on your hotdog-selling business whatsoever. All your hotdogs are supplied to you free of charge by Grillby and you’ve just repurposed the sentry stations as multiple hotdog stands.”

Papyrus blinks, rubbing his chin. “Now that I think of it, how did you even get the sentry station to the Surface in the first place?”

Sans shrugs, the gross squelch of his wet sneakers punctuating each leisurely step. “I have my ways. 

The brothers turn the corner, nearing the northern entryway of the park. Papyrus skips ahead, eager to get to the crosswalk. Sans sighs, eyelights grazing over to the community bulletin board across the street. He skims over the multicolored flyers plastered all over with flyers, most are obscuring other adverts while some are already starting to peel off all on their own. The visible promotions, like yard sales and community-hosted parties, seemed pretty enticing - that is until you realize that all the events listed are all over and done with now. 

Someone should probably take those down soon.

From the corner of his socket, something else snatches Sans’ attention. 

Huh, did they decide to add some statues to the entryway’s stone pillars? Well, statue. Looks like it was still a work-in-progress though, they only got one installed so far. 

He couldn’t really make out what it was supposed to be, the sculpture was facing the other way. From the looks of it, it was some sort of cloaked figure - an angel maybe? 

The details on the wings were insane though, super realistic.  

“Sans, you bonehead - don’t cross yet! Wait for the car to pass by!” 

Sans startles out of thought, his wet sneakers nearly sending him falling on his butt as he scurried away from the crosswalk's edge. 

A blue family van drives by at a steady speed. In the back passenger seat, a young bear monster waves at him with a smile. 

Sans waves back. 

Harry was a good kid - and so were his older siblings, Barry, Larry, and Carrie. They’re paw-ssibly his best customers, buying up all his dogs so he can head home early for the day. 

Once the street was clear of any and all impending vehicles, Sans and Rocky crossed over. Papyrus waits on the other side, tapping his foot anxiously.

“Sans, you need to remember to look both ways before crossing! You could seriously get hurt!”

“Sorry, bro.” Sans finds himself snickering far too early. “I was just so excited to get to the park, I could bear-ly contain myself!”

“...I do not understand why you are making bear puns right now and I’m not going to ask, so anyways!” Papyrus spins around with eager haste. “Let us proceed too— Geno? What are you doing here?”

“Geno?” Sans peeks around his brother. Sure enough, just a few feet past the park’s entryway stood Geno. And he was looking… erm, he’s had better days. 

Geno was standing hunched over himself, looking pretty haggard. Sans noticed that his eye was glowing - which is something he has not done in quite some time - meaning that his blue magic was activated. 

Sans also noted that Geno still had his work bag on him, the strap tightly clenched in his hand; he must have gotten off work earlier today than expected. 

Sans has so many questions right now. But the most pressing issue had to do with Geno’s face. 

He was looking between the two skeletons with a face of utter mortification. 

He didn’t even know a skeleton could physically make a face like that. 

“Geno,” Sans tests, a little nervous if he were being honest with himself. “Bud, you good?”

The sweating skeleton blinks before straightening himself out, the blue glow of his eye quickly dissipating. 

“Yep, yeah - all good. Just got startled. B-By a squirrel.” His eyelight flickers everywhere but at them. “It came charging at me, so I threw it.” He pauses for a moment, stuffing his hands into his jacket’s pocket. “Across the neighborhood.”

The three brothers stare for a moment. Rocky would rather he be anywhere else but here. 

“Dude,” Sans balks. “That squirrel’s probably dead.”

“I mean, it charged at me. So, self-defense.”

“Self-defense?”

Geno nods stiffly, his eyelight focused off to the side. A trickle of sweat building on his skull. 

“That does sound like a perfectly reasonable explanation for you to be so on edge right now, Geno.” Papyrus chimes in, all on board Geno’s narrative. “Are you alright, did this squirrel hurt you?”

“Nope. Chucked it before it could do anything. Heh…”

An abruptly loud croak penetrates the air. Sans and Papyrus turn to the noise, missing Geno’s barely held-together front crumple into unadulterated dread. 

From one of the bushes, which looked very much dead compared to the rest, a raven hobbled out. Its wings were in complete disarray, bramble, twigs, and other rotten miscellaneous foliage caught in its feathers - poor thing probably got stuck in there looking for… whatever it was ravens ate. 

It looked up at the skeletons with its little beady eyes, and Sans could swear it glared at them. It croaked again, this time with much more venom put into it than before. When it seemed satisfied with verbally berating the monsters, it flapped its shabby wings and flew off; some loose feathers fluttered down after it. 

“Are birds usually this hostile?” Papyrus asked, scratching his skull. He seemed more confused than offended. 

“Nah, I think we just caught him in a bad mood. Poor guy was probably stuck there for a while.”

Sans glances over at Geno. His gaze was still locked in on the sky even though the bird was very much long gone by now. 

“Since you’re here, Geno,” Papyrus steps forward, snapping the shorter skeleton out of his daze. “Would you like to accompany us to the garden? We can all walk home together after and start working on dinner, if you're not busy that is.”

“S-Sure, not like I have plans or anything…” Geno looks down rather dejectedly. 

“Great! Oh, how was work?” Papyrus marches onward, following the park’s dirt path. Geno follows, slinging his work bag back over his shoulder. “Is there a reason you finished work so early today?” 

“Uh, yeah. There might have been a little mishap in the engineering department. Everyone got to go home early though, so not much to complain about there.”

Sans follows from behind, content with listening in to the conversation for now. Rocky takes the time to sniff around the park, eager to take in his new surroundings. 

Curiously, Sans turns back to the pillars, hoping to get a better view of the statue from here. He stops, much to Rocky’s confusion. Blinking once, then twice - just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things - Sans steps back, an uncomfortable sensation creeping into his bones. 

The statue was gone. 

Chapter Text

“I’m home!”

Shutting the door behind him, Geno readily exhales into his scarf, the toasty interior of the living room quickly warming up his chilled bones. 

The beginning of autumn usually served as a gradual introduction to Winter - baby steps, you could call it. But recently the days have been getting colder and colder. They still had weeks to go before Winter officially started but it felt like it was going to start snowing any day now. 

Sans peeks over the couch as Geno is taking off his shoes, wearily blinking through sleep-crusted sockets. 

“Yo,” He greets before withdrawing his head from view, no doubt promptly going back to snoozing.  

Geno rolls his eyelight, halfheartedly shrugs off his cardigan. He only succeeds in loosening one sleeve before giving up. 

He’s not staying home for long anyway, might as well wear it for later. It was kind of cute even… right?

Geno looks down at his cardigan, suddenly feeling self-conscious over his wardrobe choice. 

What once was a moth-chewed rag that had been shoved to the very back of Sans and his closet for who knows how long has now since been restored into something wearable. Toriel, already the saint that she was, had even added some floral embroidered patterns to some of the more damaged sections, hiding the more noticeable imperfections.  

Geno shakes his head. He was overthinking this, it didn’t matter how he looked. They’ve already seen each other at their worst; nothing could ever top that. 

Speaking of wardrobes… he should probably start lending the other some of his clothes next time - wouldn’t want to draw any unwanted attention, or hysterics from the more fanatical humans. 

It shouldn’t be too hard, the god didn’t seem that picky considering the simple garbs he’s donned for eons - he’d gladly wear anything he gave him.

…oh shit, he actually would wear anything he gave him. 

Geno draws his scarf closer to himself, thankful to still have it on. He preferred to think it was the warmth of the living room and his stubborn insistence on wearing layered clothes that caused his sudden hotness. 

Ridding his mind of any further shameful thoughts, Geno places his work bag down on the nearby drawer. He heads for the kitchen, lunch bag in hand - but not before giving Rocky his well-deserved scritches of course.  

Papyrus was inside, as always, hard at work preparing dinner. A cookbook is sprawled open on the opposite countertop, surrounding it is an interesting assortment of vegetables sit around it, waiting to be diced and spliced. The taller skeleton is currently cutting up a zucchini into thin slices. 

“Hey, Papyrus,” Geno greets, emptying his emptied-out container into the sink. “Whipping up something new today?”

Papyrus slides the sliced squash into a separate bowl. “Hello, Brother! I am as a matter of fact!” 

He spins around to grab the cookbook, the momentum causing a few vegetables to tumble to the ground. “I decided to make a Pasta Salad for today! It says here that it’s, and I quote, ‘The Best Dish in the Metropolitan Area!’ - I don’t know which metropolitan area it is referring to though, the book doesn’t say.”

“Neat,” Geno grabs the sink’s sponge, sloppily squeezing an obscene amount of dish soap onto it. “Save some for me, I’d love to try it later.”

“What time will you be back?”

“Hmm, I won’t be gone long - probably back around seven.” Giving the suddy plastic a good final scrub, Geno douses it under a good amount of water before depositing it onto the drying rack. “Oh, that reminds me,”

Shaking his wet phalanges over the sink, Geno slips out of the kitchen, rummaging through his bag. Papyrus curiously follows behind, mindful of the vegetables still scattered along the kitchen floor as he does. 

Geno pulls out a new-looking cell phone. It looks similar in design to the ones produced in the Underground, although this one was missing an antenna and looked much slimmer than its previously bulky iteration. 

“We just finished work on the second release candidate for the mPhone! Once they’re checked over and in the clear, they should start making their way on store shelves.”

Geno flips open the screen. An eight-bit melody plays before it opens to a home screen.

“Alphys’ let me have this older model, we got a lot of them just laying around the office. It’s free grabs for everyone at this point.”

“Wowie! That’s amazing, Geno!” Papyrus exclaims. “You and Alphys sure have put a lot of work into this project, I’m so proud of you!” 

“I-I just helped with the early concept designs and suggested some features here and there,” Geno stutters abashedly, he still hasn’t gotten used to Papyrus’ charitable praises. “It was all Alphys and her engineering team that put in the real work.” 

Sans peeks over the couch, having awakened from his fruitless slumber once again. “What exactly does it do?” He asks, lazily resting his bony chin on the back cushion. 

Geno perks up. “Well, for one thing, it’s able to connect to the human’s Internet. But we also made it optional to access the monster’s Internet from the Underground - everything should all still be there. We also managed to upgrade the dimensional box to hold more storage space.

“Oh, and since most human phones rely on getting signals from their cellular carrier, we decided to improve that for the mPhone so you can never lose the signal. So now it’s got a cell service so strong it can theoretically reach past our own dimension!”

Sans tilts his head. “That sounds cool, and all - really impressive work, buddy. But uh, why does cell service need to be that strong?” 

Geno’s eyelight darts to the side. “Because… why not?” 

“Hmm,” Sans shrugs. “Fair.” 

“Wowie, that’s amazing! Does that mean I can update my status while out on my daily jogs now?”

Geno chuckles. “Yep, sure does, Pap. I’ll be sure to get one for you as soon as it comes out.”

“Wait, bro, are you still jogging down unmarked hike trails?”

“...Geno! You said you were leaving at five, right?” 

Geno glances over at the clock, starting in place. “Shit! I have to go,” He tosses the phone into his bag before swinging it over his shoulder. “Dammit, I wanted to get there earlier too...”

Sans watches his twin dart about frantically, a look of endearment settling over his idle gaze. When Geno acts up like this, it’s almost like having a mini Papyrus running around… a much more violent Papyrus, sure, but beloved nonetheless.  

Speaking of… 

“Where’d you say you were going again?” Sans speaks up just as Geno reaches the door. “Kinda forgot tibia honest.” He winks for good measure. 

“Pfff,” A smothered laugh escapes the previously anxious skeleton, phalanges clasped against his face.

“Hey, what’s so humerus ? Did something tickle your funny bone ?”

Despite his efforts, Geno inevitably doubles over, his laughter quickly devolving into a coughing fit. Papyrus audible groans, debating on whether to leave the room or not.

As always, bone puns work like a charm.

It doesn’t take long for Geno to collect himself, shrugging off Papyrus’ worries with a smile. “Sorry for all the coffin .”

A painfully slow exhale leaves Papyrus’ painfully clenched teeth. 

Geno looks over to Sans. “I’m meeting up with an old friend.” He winks before he’s overcome with another giggling fit, a gentle splash of magic creeps across his skull. “It’s gonna be an osteoblast !” 

Sans blinks, it takes a second but eventually, a knowing look settles on his face. He smiles smugly at his twin. “Ah, have fun then.”

“Goodbye, Brother!” Papyrus chimes in. 

The two brothers wave as Geno slips out of the house. They watch the door for a moment before rushing to huddle together on the couch, hunched over among themselves. Papyrus leaps over the couch and Sans just barely rolls out of the way of the impact zone. 

“Is this ‘old friend’ someone you’re also acquainted with, Sans?” The taller skeleton brother whispers, despite being the only other soul currently in the house. “Did Geno tell you about them?” 

“Not that I know of,” Sans whispers back. “Geno didn’t go into much specifics about them - I’m in the dark as much as you are, bro. My best guess is it must have been someone from his timeline that he got particularly close with.” 

“Do you think that this is,” Papyrus pauses, his eyes darting around the room before leaning in closer. “ the ‘someone’ that Geno has been waiting for?”

The shorter skeleton hums. “Must be. Probably why he’s been in such high spirits lately.”

“Well, that’s wonderful!” Papyrus shouts, leaping off the couch. “I hope we can meet this friend of his soon, I’d like to personally thank them for cheering Geno up!”

Papyrus crosses his arms. “And give them a stern talking to for making Geno wait so long in the first place.” He mumbles to himself.  

Oh, boy. Rip to Geno’s friend then. “Geno’ll probably introduce us when he’s ready.” Sans advocates, a bead of sweat collecting on his forehead. “They probably have a lot of catching up to do first, anyway.” 

Papyrus nods grimly. “Understandable. The honorary shovel talk will have to wait for now. Now then,” Papyrus spins around. “To proceed with my Pasta Salad Dinner!” Papyrus waltz back into the kitchen.

Sans looks out the window. A gaggle of crows are piling onto the new bird feeder Geno recently bought, gobbling up all the seeds as their beaks can hold. 

Looks like that raven’s finally flew off for now. The big guy’s usually perched up on the side of the feeder, hoarding all those delectable seeds. Actually, Sans isn’t sure the raven even eats the seeds. The feeder’s usually pretty full anytime he’s chilling up there, it’s the crows that are the greedy ones. 

Maybe the raven just likes to feel tall? Or maybe it’s waiting for Geno to come out with some better grub. He read somewhere that if you befriend a raven, you make a friend for life - or is that with crows? 

Sans plops down on the couch, his eye sockets already fluttering. 

How’d Geno even manage to befriend that ticked raven from the park in the first place? He’s pretty sure that smart birds like those can hold a grudge for years. 

Maybe he took up birdwatching as a side hobby, he’ll ask him about it later. 

///

It’s been a week and Sans is pretty sure Geno hasn’t looked away from his phone once. Keyword, his old phone. Sans has no idea what he’s done with the mPhone he showed off the week before.  

Although with recent hints here and there, Sans might have a slight idea as to where it’s gone now…  

Today, the skeleton brothers were enjoying a hearty serving of bacon and eggs this fine Saturday morning. Or rather, Sans and Papyrus were enjoying a hearty serving of bacon and eggs, Geno was too busy currently conscripting a mountain of a paragraph, his phalanges vigorously flying across the keypad without pause. He’s been so concentrated on the task that he’s forgone blinking for the past few minutes. 

The steady clicking of the keypad comes to an abrupt stop, signaling to the brothers that Geno’s thumb has hit send. Holding his breath, Geno draws the phone closer to his face, his fidgeting eyelight transfixed on the little screen. 

After a few moments, a single chime rings out. Geno scans the response, his intense expression gradually cracking to reveal a giddy smile. He immediately goes back to typing.

This cycle repeats itself for a while, with Geno sometimes giggling or blushing like a schoolgirl to whatever he’s reading. 

At some point, before Geno can get to work drafting another lengthy response, Papyrus clears his non-existent throat. 

“Geno,” Papyrus motions to Geno’s plate. “You’re food’s getting cold.”

Geno blinks, his gaze cautiously resting on his untouched breakfast. Sans sheds a tear for Geno’s coffee, the once steaming brew now reduced to a cold lackluster concoction of disappointment. 

“Ah,” He finally stammers, a shameful blush tickling his cheekbones unforgivingly. “Sorry.” 

He slides the phone down the table, just out of arm’s reach before clumsily picking up his untouched utensils. 

The three brothers awkwardly resume breakfast, this time with Geno occasionally chiming in the casual chatter.

Now, Geno’s recent crush - yes crush, because what else could it possibly be - was a little endearing at first, Papyrus was particularly ecstatic that Geno had such budding chemistry with this mysterious individual. But even someone like Papyrus, the hopeless romantic that he was, was starting to get a little tired of Geno’s excessive screentime use - it was worse than the time Flowey got a hold of Frisk’s new tablet from last Gyftmas. 

Sans, for one, still couldn’t wrap his mind around Geno being this head-over-heels over someone. Romantically. 

Listen, Sans wasn’t stupid. He knew since the beginning that Geno and his mystery friend were something more than friends, even if Geno himself wouldn’t vocally admit it, it’s just that seeing Geno like this was a little… unnerving.

It really had more to do with Sans seeing himself gushing over someone this excessively and without shame - for the most part. He hadn’t really thought about himself in a relationship, ever. So seeing Geno literally kicking his feet up in the air while chatting away all lovey-dovey with his secret admirer brought about some weird and rather unpleasant emotions that he would love more than anything just to bury away forever and never look back at again, thank you very much; it’s what Sanses did best.

Sans startles out of his thoughts, the sudden vibration of the phone now pushed to his side of the table, drawing the attention of all three monsters. 

Geno reaches for the phone, flipping it open suspiciously. Upon reading the caller, he eyes his brothers hesitantly.

“...I’ll be,” Geno carefully gets up from his chair. “Right back.”

He scurries out into the hallway before the other two can get a word in, the soft squeaking of the back door lets them know that Geno’s stepped into the back porch. 

“Heh,” Sans reaches for his coffee. He doesn’t drink from it, simply needing something to distract his hands with. “Young love, right?” 

Shit, what was he talking about? That didn’t make any fucking sense. Cringing at the delivery, Sans decided that the brewed contents of his coffee mug were far more interesting at the moment, not daring to meet Papyrus’ gaze. 

Papyrus huffs, going back to his remaining helping of eggs. Despite himself, a fond smile sneaks into his overplayed scowl. 

“The dating manual warned about this potential stage in a relationship, although I must admit, I underestimated just how… passionate someone like Geno would be considering that he is another version of you. Which reminds me,” Papyrus leans forward, a smug smile plastered on his skeletal features. “Are you also a closeted Romantic, Sans?”  

Sans sinks into his seat. “I would love nothing more than to stop having this conversation right now, bro…” 

“—This is the fifth time you’ve butt dialed me!” A loud shout calls out from outside. A frustrated groan soon follows. “…yeah it’s- I know you don’t have a butt it’s just what it’s called when you—”

It’s hard to hear the rest of what Geno says, probably moving deeper into the backyard. 

“...you remember that I’m leaving to help Miss. Toriel with a fundraiser today, right, Sans?”

“Oh yeah, at twelve right?”

Papyrus nods. “I am going to leave a little earlier though, Miss. Toriel asked me if I could secure a few extra items on my way there. Is there anything we might need that I can—”

“—If you don’t need to call me then—” 

The sudden interruption is quickly cut off with an abrupt pause, the back door shuts on its own as Geno releases the handle. 

“Oh… okay, yeah. What did you have in mind?~” 

Once again, Geno moves out of earshot; a small mercy. 

“...ugh, I think we’re good?” Sans peaks behind him, a hint of paranoia sinking into his bones. “I can take care of the dishes if you want.”

“Ah, wonderful, Sans! That’d be ver—”

“Oh my god, stop! That’s so gross! Tell me more.~” 

“Welp, I should be off!” Papyrus leaps out of his seat, dashing for the door. “See you later, Sans!”

“Aight, I’m gonna go dunk my head in the sink.” 

Thirty minutes later, all the dishes and Sans’ skull are all washed and dried, a new personal best for Sans in the chores department. He’s currently scrubbing away at the built-up grease that stayed stubbornly glued onto the pan. So elbows-deep in his task he failed to notice the distinct squeak of a certain door. 

“Okay, okay. Talk to you later, bye.” 

Sans lets out an internal sigh of relief as Geno pockets his phone. His twin strolls on over beside him, peering over his shoulders as Sans toiled away at the stupid pan. 

“Hey,” Geno mutters, marveling over the completed dishes organized in the drying rack.

“Heya.” Sans grimaces, not at Geno but at the damn bacon grease. He’s only been able to get scrapes off the sides, he hasn’t even made a dent in the accumulated lard at the bottom of the pan.

Sensing Sans’ growing frustration, Geno motions for the pan. “Here, let me take a crack at it.”

“‘S all yours,” Sans practically tosses it at the other. “I’ve done enough manual labor for today.”  

While Geno makes considerably more progress than Sans - actually wetting the paper towel rather than just using it as a pseudo-glove to dig away at the grease - there are still some grease chunks latching on with much persistence. 

“Good lard,” Sans chuckles, watching Geno's growing frustration with keen interest. “Cleaning bacon fat sure is no grease of cake.” 

Geno snorts. “Heh, speaking of fats,” Geno turns to him, smiling wide. “Did you know that decomposing human corpses sometimes make this thing called ‘grave wax’? It’s kinda like soap.”

Sans blinks. “Wow… humans sure are weird.”

“Pfft, yeah.” Geno turned back to work on the pan, humming a familiar yet distant melody as he scrubbed the last of the grease off.  

Crossing his arms over the corresponding countertop, Sans sags against it.  

So, Geno’s either dating a really passionate mortician or an up-and-coming serial killer. 

Good to know. 

Chapter Text

“Okay, th-that… that should be everything from Lab Two…” 

Placing the cardboard box on the ground - considerably lighter than the other stuffed boxes that nearly dislocated her back - Alphys pulled out her phone, swiping down her checklist. 

Lab Two had fewer things that needed to be stored away during the winter break, most of the heavier equipment inside was thankfully built-in, simply needing to be shut down to avoid any technical issues from occurring while the building was closed. 

Now all she needed to do was bring these to the supply closet and lock everything up. Oh, and to double-check for any forgotten personal belongings - wouldn’t want a repeat of last year…

Alphys looks over wearily at the cardboard boxes, her free hand rubbing at her sore back. Maybe she should have taken Undyne up on her offer to help close up the firm. Too late for that now though, Undyne was out on a last-minute outing with January and Duet. The former royal guardsmen had just returned from their honeymoon in Japan and Undyne wanted to hear all the details. 

And she didn’t want to pull her girlfriend away from her friends on such short notice… she’d just have to do this on her own. 

Alphys sighs shakily. “Okay… okay. You got this, Alphys.” The drake monster mumbles, attempting to hype herself up, her sweaty palms curling into shaky fists. “It’s just a few boxes, no need to rush, j-just take your time… ugh, Undyne and Papyrus are usually better at this…”

“Nah, brew can do it, Al.”

“Gaaah!” Alphys whirls to the side, nearly smacking into the bundled-up skeleton that’s suddenly been standing behind her. Geno easily dodges, gingerly sidestepping to the right just beside the piled-up boxes. He’s nursing two coffee cups in his mittened hands, his eyelight briefly checking their condition after the brief squirmish. His shoulders sag in muted relief. 

“G-Geno,” Alphys sputters, slapping her hands against her flushed cheeks. “Hi! How long have you been st-standing there?...” 

Geno shakes his head with chuffed amusement. “Not that long,” He drawls. “Didn’t want to interrupt your motivational little speech there.” He offers one of the coffee cups, the sleeve decorated in little snowflake prints. “Got some coffee on the way here. You want?”

“T-Thanks,” Accepting the paper cup, Alphys gives a gentle blow before sampling a small sip.

“Hmm, that’s good.” She licks her lips. “Gingerbread?”

“I guess? I just picked the specials that had the funnier names honestly.” 

“Haha, of course!”

Geno nods, chugging a mouthful of his own festive-themed brew. His free hand burrows away in the pocket of his winter jacket, absentmindedly fiddling with something within. 

“...Oh!” Alphys starts after a moment, using the back of her sleeve to wipe off the excessive amount of whipped cream that has clung to her lips. “Did you need to grab something before I c-closed up shop?”

“Actually, I was hoping I could ask for a small favor. If you're not too busy, that is.” Geno grabs hold of the mysterious trinket he’s been fidgeting with from his pocket. He pulls it out, though it remains hidden in his gloved fist. 

“Umm, you mind if we bring this into the lab?” He beckons to the secondary laboratory with a tilt of his head. “It can be a bit… deadly if you’re not careful with it.”

“U-Uh, sure?” Alphys fidgets in place hesitantly, but the twinkle in her eyes reveals the drake’s piqued curiosity to Geno’s cryptic words. “Hold on, let me just bring this back in if we’re using the lab tables.” 

Grabbing the lighter box, Alphys leads her intern into Lab Two, who dutifully brings in both their coffees.

Where Lab 1 saw to the production and testing phase of prototypes that would hopefully make their way as a finished product, Lab Two was the drawing board phase - basically an excuse for everyone to fuck around and bang two rocks together until sparks started flying. 

Oh, and they had all the machines in there. 3D printers, CNCs, laser cutters, etcetera. 

The lights turn on automatically as they enter. Maneuvering around work benches and unplugged machinery, the two monsters make it to the laboratory tables. 

Picking the closest one, Alphys places the cardboard box on top. “Alright, what do we need?” She asks, peering into the box’s contents. 

“Definitely a tray, some nitrile gloves… you should grab a tweezer and some prongs, just in case.”

“Hmm…” Rummaging around, the drake monster tuts frustratingly before pulling out a potted snake plant, setting it off to the side. 

It was a gift from Asgore for the grand opening of Name Still Pending. The King mentioned that, apparently, snake plants are pretty low-maintenance houseplants, so the firm wouldn’t have to worry too much about keeping it alive while also having some nice greenery to liven up the firm. 

The firm decided to name it Buttercup.

In all honestly, Alphys was surprised Buttercup was still alive a year later. She was certain it would die soon after she accidentally watered it with her energy drink. Surprisingly, Buttercup actually started flourishing. They theorized that it got hooked on the sugar and caffeine because when they tried to use water the next time, it immediately started withering.

So now they give Buttercup energy drinks. Asgore applauded them for their care, stating that he’d never seen such a healthy-looking snake plant before. 

It is company policy not to tell King Asgore how they’ve been taking care of Buttercup. 

With that obstruction gone, Alphys could now find the necessary equipment with much more ease. Arranging the equipment accordingly on the table, Alphys passes over an extra gloves to Geno. 

“Alright, w-when you’re ready, Geno.” Alphys steps to the side, struggling a good deal with pulling her own disposable gloves over her sweaty palms, giving the skeleton monster the floor. 

Reaching into his pocket once again, gloved hands finally revealed a small metal case. To most, it looked nothing out of the ordinary, but the former royal scientist recognized the case’s design. It looked to be a smaller iteration of one of the many metal containers supplied to Hotland’s Lab, typically used for storing samples and whatnot. The particular metal used for the cases was pretty resistant in containing more erosive or dangerous materials; even being used when creating the canisters and coffins for the human souls. 

Geno must have gotten it from his and Sans’ old workshop. 

Bringing it over the tray, the skeleton carefully unclasps the lid. 

Immediately, an unsettling aura emits from the case. A potent concoction of cold dread and warm detachment floods Alphys’ senses, forcing her to stumble back in surprise at the sudden onslaught of nausea that hits her. 

Shaky hands slap over her snout as a wave of disorientation threatened to empty her insides. This feeling, this familiar sense of resigned defeat that has followed her throughout her time as the Underground’s royal scientist, it permeated the lab’s air, plaguing it with the vivid tang of rot and decay. 

What the hell was this?! A gas leak? Some chemical reaction with the open air? Oh God, her eyes were burning…

“Al!” Firm arms grab her by the shoulders, anchoring her back on her feet. Ah, no wonder the world was tilting there for a second. 

With a shaky gulp, Alphys rubbed at her stinging eyes, the salty taste lingering in her mouth eased her trembling. 

“Al, are you okay? Shit, I’m sorry - I didn’t think you’d react this badly…” 

With a hesitant inhale, Alphys closes her eyes. The air felt different this time. The foul odor was still there, like a fine layer of collecting dust, but it… how should she put it, faded more into the background; an aftertaste? It reminded her of the True Laboratory in a way, an uncomfortable yet familiar sensation - just another part of the day you had to deal with. Alphys exhales, taking off her glasses to properly clear out her eyes. 

Geno’s still holding her up, worry and guilt plastered on his ashened complexion. 

“Just keep breathing. Yeah, like that.” He peeks over into the tray with a tight grimace. “We don’t have to do this if—”

“No, no.” Alphys steps out of Geno’s arms, the skeleton startles but relaxes as she remains upright. “I-I’m fine, Geno. Just a minor hiccup is all.” 

Inching closer to the desk, Alphys finally got a good look at this mysterious object of the day that almost knocked her out a minute ago. Despite still being slightly shaken up, her interest was now completely piqued. 

She looked down into the tray to see… some kind of debris? Chalk maybe? Like, really old and dry chalk. But upon closer inspection, it looked like a bone. A chipped piece of bone that had been scraped off by something sharp. There was some dust here and there around it, meaning it came from a skeleton monster… 

“Th-that… that’s what caused…”

“I completely forgot it could do that, I should have known better but I was just so—”

“That is so cool!”

Geno joins her side with a baffled expression. “Huh?”

“Is this a new kind of bone attack you wanted to show?” Alphys asks, lighting up as she continues. “I heard from Asgore that many different species of monster attacks were lost after the war. Skeletons especially were known for their various types of attacks! Did your determination trigger some lost Skeleton magic?!” 

“Uh, not exactly.” Geno digs his hands into his pockets somewhat abashed. “I was actually hoping if you could make a device that would… cancel out the magic?” 

“C-Cancel out?” Alphys asks. “You mean, it’s always active?” She winces at the seemingly innocuous bone fragment, its haunting aura still leaving goosebumps along her skin. “You… you can’t deactivate it? Unsummon the attack?” 

“Nope,” The skeleton’s eyelight drifts over to Buttercup. “That’s the thing I really wanted to talk to you about.”

Reaching over, Geno plucks the tip of Buttercup’s leaf. 

“Sorry, bud.” He turns back to Alphys, the drake waiting with a hesitant yet curious look. “It also does this.” 

Dropping the torn bit of leaf onto the bone fragment, it instantly withers away. A sweet earthy musk taints Alphys nostrils, although it is nowhere near as potent as the bone fragment’s previously lone odor. It reminded her of the mid-autumn season, where front yards were overrun with piles upon piles of colorful leaves; the ones trapped beneath producing that familiar earthy smell often associated with the changing season, the ugly rot and decay that came being hidden from the public view by the natural confetti of reds, yellows, browns, and oranges that stacked on. 

“...what a powerful attack.” Alphys looks on with awe. “It doesn’t even have to be a hit. Just the graze of your skin and…” 

Alphys shudders, the visualization momentarily bringing back that nauseating tang in the back of her mouth. She stifles a wet gag. 

“Al?”

Geno’s concerned face inches toward hers. Alphys has to smother the urge to shove his bony face out from hers. 

“I’m fine, Geno, really.” She pouts. Honestly, since when did he become such a worrywart? “But yeah, I… I think I can do it.”

Geno startles for a moment before his eyelight starts to grow a little brighter. “Wait, really?” 

“This is some pretty powerful magic - extremely dangerous too. It’d be good if we had a way to control it before it could end up hurting someone.” She bites her lips. “It hasn’t, right?”

Geno blinks, a somber expression extinguishing that momentarily burst of excitement. “...no, it hasn’t.”

“That’s a relief.” Alphys sighs, eyes set back on the tray. “I’m guessing you already have an idea in mind for this ‘suppressor’?”

Geno shrugs, pressing his scarf to his flushed cheekbones. “I have some ideas jotted down. Just some sketches for now.”

“Anything will work for now, it’ll give me a better picture of what I’m working with.” Picking up her utensils, she carefully flips the bone fragment over. “Hmm, probably going to need my magic scanner for this later on, it’ll make reverse engineering this waaay easier. Gosh, it’s been a while since I’ve taken up something this challenging. I’m going to be honest, I’m a little excited, haha!” 

“Glad you're feeling better.” Geno chuckles, leaning beside her on the desk as Alphys tinkers about. 

“Thanks, Al.” He mutters after some time, knocking his skull against her shoulder. “I owe you one; this really means a lot.”

“D-Don’t mention it.” Alphys stutters with a blush. “It might take a while, but I can definitely figure this out! Mind passing me the magnifier?” 

///

“Frisk, my child, don’t forget your helmet!” 

Frisk groans unabashedly up toward the heavens, as any prepubescent youth would when being mother-henned right in front of their peers. Nevertheless, they reluctantly trudged back to Toriel, the snow piling up around their dragging feet as they did so. By the time they arrive beside the now-chuckling goat monster, the mound of snow they’ve dragged along with them nearly reaches their chin. 

“Next time it snows, we better call Frisk over to plow the street.” Sans comments, having taken a break from his nap to observe the small human. He props his arms behind the back of his skull for some extra cushioning against the old deciduous tree. 

The old raven perched above cackles with jerky head bobs. 

Sans doesn’t really remember when Geno’s raven friend first started following them around outside of their neighborhood. One day, when they stopped by Muffet’s Spider Cafe while doing some early Gyftmas shopping, Sans’ caught the old thing peeking in from the cafe’s window. 

Geno and Papyrus never seemed to notice the old bird, too busy debating which of their chosen Winter Specials was superior. 

From then on, Sans started to spot the raven anywhere they went. Not even a two-hour drive to a frozen lake couldn’t stop the little guy from following his favorite monster. 

Too bad Geno never seemed to notice him though - poor little heartthrob. 

Sans is watching Toriel pull the kid out from the confines of their self-made snow poff when Papyrus storms over, the taller skeleton’s irked face flushed from the chilly winter air. 

“Sans!” Papyrus shouts. The raven squawks, fluttering onto a higher branch. “It’s been thirty minutes and you still haven’t put on your skates!”

Sans’ eyelights dart to the skates that sat haphazardly next to him. “Sorry, bro. I was just getting a quick warm-up in.”

“Sans, a thirty-minute nap does not count as a warm-up! Far from it, actually!”

“Oops, looks like I slipped up .”

“Sans, please. My rear is too sore to be dealing with your puns right now.”

“Boy, that sounds like a bum-mer . Aight, I’ll stop.” Slowly, Sans stumbles to his feet. His winterwear absolutely soaked. “Don’t want you feeling like the butt-end of my jokes!”

“Part of me is debating whether or not I should just leave you here to freeze, brother.”

“Worth it.”

“Yo!”

The two brothers turn to see an armada of stripe-clad children - a collective of monsters and humans - rush over. Frisk is leading the charge, their bright red helmet serving as a sort of beacon for the other children to follow in their giddy pursuit. MK is hot on their trail, his little feet flying through the fluffy snow like propellers, a powder of sleet trailing behind them. 

Frisk reaches the skeletons first, toasty-red cheeks struggling to suck in enough cool air for their poor lungs. They wave at the brothers with a sloppy smile, wiping their runny noses with the back of their other arm.

MK, failing to slow his speedy dash, lands face-first into the snow. 

“Y-Yo, Papyrus!” The small monster stutters, shaking off the stubborn sleet that clung to his winter coat. “Frisk says that you’re, like, the fastest monster they know. Wanna be on our team? We’re playing hockey! Undyne said she’d play too!”  

Papyrus perks up. “You want me? On your team?”

Frisk nods. The other children holler with their own enthusiasm. The human children seem especially excited, their heads already filled with stories of the taller skeleton’s miscellaneous shenanigans in the Underground.  

“Wowie!” Papyrus sniffs, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye socket. “I’d be honored!” 

Welp, the peace was nice while it lasted. 

“Hey bro,” Sans asks against the tide of the children’s shouts and squeals, stumbling off the cold ground with a light huff. “Where’s Geno at?”

“On the ice!” Papyrus proclaims proudly. “Undyne and I actually managed to teach him and Alphys the basics. They could teach you too, they’ve learned a lot!”

“That’s snow cool, bro You and Undyne are real miracle workers - why I’d go as far as to say that this a Gyftmas miracle!”

It earns him some giggles and snorts from the horde of toddlers. Some of the children look on at the short skeleton with unveiled contentment that somehow rivaled Papyrus’ own forlorn expression.  

Frisk, the cheeky little imp that they were, gives Sans a thumbs up, drawing out a betrayed gasp from Papyrus. “Frisk, don’t encourage him! Those were terrible…” 

“Yo! We should probably get going! Undyne and her team are really warming up!”

“Ah! We need to properly warm-up if we want to have equal footing against Undyne and her squadron! One lap around the pond will have to do for now - I’ll lead the way!” 

And with that, Papyrus takes off. The children follow suit, their giggles serving as a foreboding warning for all to clear the way, lest they be run down by the undaunting hoard of tots, plus an overzealous skeleton leading the charge. 

Or, it would be a threat if any of the children could actually keep up with Papyrus - most of their winter wear severely limiting their mobility. 

Frisk, of course, was the exception. They were effortlessly keeping pace with Papyrus. 

Sans follows a good distance behind the hoard. They’ve cleared a decent walkable path ahead, so Sans didn’t have to worry about sinking into the unshoveled snow or maneuvering around any idle crowds - most having long since run to take cover. 

He easily spots Geno and Alphys standing alongside the frozen pond. They must have just gotten off the ice too, the spontaneous hockey game giving them a chance to take a much-needed breather. 

They were soaked from their elbows down to their knees, evidently having many unfortunate tumbles to the hard, unforgiving ice. No doubt some nasty bruises would greet them by tomorrow. 

Now see, if you don’t try any physical activities whatsoever, then that significantly decreases the chances of sporting ugly bruises all over your body. 

And those two still call themselves nerds. How foolish. 

“Heya,” Sans lines up beside the two monsters, his usual grin just a tad bit wider. “Having fun skating?”

Geno shrugs, or at least attempts to. The simple motion alone seems to be sending painful aches throughout his bones. “We’re getting there.” He instead settles with a tired smile. 

“Y-Yeah.” Alphys rubs her mittened hands together, the light chattering of her teeth hidden by her fuzzy scarf clicking together as she speaks. “I only fell like five times so far. Just taking a little break for now. Haha.”

“ Ice .”

Geno snorts. Alphys blinks, the pun sadly eluding her.

“You guys heading over to Tori’s after this?” Sans huddles into himself. Although not freezing out, the temperature has definitely lowered since they got here. In just a few hours, it would be pitch dark. “She mentioned something about making a fruitcake. Paps’ mentioned that it was a popular human dish around this time of year.”

“We have to pass, unfortunately. Undyne and I already made plans for tonight.”

Geno snorts even louder. “You mean you actually got it?”

“A mint condition Mew Mew Kissy Cutie and the Chase for the Magic Mistletoe, complete with a collector’s holiday poster and soundtrack! An early Gyftmas present, I know, but the look on Undyne’s face was so worth it!”

Sans nods along, not understanding a word of what Alphys is saying, but nonetheless showing his utmost support. 

He catches sight of the raven flying overhead. It circles the air for several long loops before settling itself on a lone spindly birch tree growing awkwardly right by the pond's edge. 

Despite the chaotic hockey game turned… whatever it was they were playing now, unfolding before them, the raven’s beady eyes seemed entirely fixated on the three monsters. 

Buddy, don’t you have anything better to do? Like eat seeds, prepare for winter?

Do ravens even hibernate? He’d have to ask Geno.

“S-Speaking of, guess what, Geno!”

Sans tunes back in, although the conversation seems to have moved on to something else by now. 

“Yesterday, I made a major breakthrough on our,” She peeks over at Sans in silent contemplation, her mind sorting around for the right words. “Little project.” She ultimately settles on.

Ouch, since when has he been kicked out of the secret nerd club? 

“I was finally able to look over it without the magic scanner malfunctioning and, oh my god! It's made out of some insane magic - stronger than Asgore’s! Like, I’m talking crazy ancient - I’ve never seen anything like it!”

She pokes at Geno’s chest with a playful accusatory glare. “And it’s not your magic, in fact, it’s too jumbled up for me to properly pin down its origin. Where did you get it from–”

“Hey Undyne, catch your girlfriend before she eats shit again!”

Alphys can only squeeze out a startled squeak as Geno shoves her onto the ice.

She flails on the ice, her skates frantically working to keep herself standing. But it’s clear to everyone that, despite her best efforts, the drake monster is only delaying the inevitable. Feeling herself finally lose her balance and tiling down alongside the unmerciful force of gravity, Alphys braces for impact, accepting days' worth of bruises over bruises making any movement a living hell. 

That would be the case, if it weren’t for divine intervention. 

“Gotcha, babe!” Undyne swoops in, effortlessly snatching the drake from her untimely fate. The former head of the royal guard expertly weaves through the ice as she maneuvers her girlfriend into a bridal carry in her toned arms. 

“I'm happy that you’re eager to put yourself out there like that, but you need to be more careful; you’re still learning and all!” 

Alphys can only stutter disconnectedly, a rush of magic splattering her face in a burst of red as her current position unintentionally squishes her right into Undyne’s bosom. 

The horde of children gathered around the pond’s center snickering and marveling at Undyne’s spectacular ice skating skills and her blushing mess of a girlfriend. This distraction allows for Frisk to make an easy shot on the open goal post. Papyrus hoots a cheer from across the ice.

“Wow,” Is all Sans manages to say after that whole fiasco. “That was… actually pretty smooth. You're like, an unintentional wingman.”

“Hmm,” Geno’s mumbles, grabbing onto his scarf. The unexplained tension in his posture drops slightly, his gaze looking off to the side. 

Sans leans in, his smile obnoxiously wide. “When Undyne finds out, you're totally dead.”

“She’s not gonna find out shit.” Geno snaps. 

“And why’s that, bud?”

“Because we’re going to Grillby’s later. All on me.”

Sans pauses. “My lips are sealed.” He leans back, but not before giving the sulking skeleton a playful nudge. “But only if you’re paying.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Geno half-mindedly remarks, his eyelight flickering over toward the lone birch tree. 

The raven’s gone. Looks like all that ruckus finally got to it. 

///

The residents of Newer Home are lucky enough this year to wake up to a white Gyftmas. Now it’s not a lot of snow by any means, not even an inch, but it does enough to bolster the already intoxicating holiday spirit in town. 

After a long day of playing with their newly opened presents and throwing themselves into all kinds of holiday festivities, the children of Newer Home all collectively conk out as soon as the sun starts to set, most having stayed up late Gyftmas Eve in anticipated of Santa Claus. Plenty of adults, on the other hand, celebrate late into the night - whether that be a gathering at a friend’s house for a late dinner party or at Grillby’s before the holiday menu officially retires for the year. Sans has been there since the skeleton household opened the last of their presents. 

As for Papyrus, he’d just left to join Undyne and her former royal guardsmen to go out caroling. Alphys had chosen to stay in for the night, having had herself too much eggnog the previous night and still suffering from the persistent hangover.

Geno found himself hanging out on the front porch this particular Gyftmas evening, having declined both Sans and Papyrus’ invitations for the night. Cookie bin in hand, the skeleton watches the neighboring holiday lights twinkling, the chilly winter air freezing his phalanges against the metal tin. 

Picking up one of the cookies at random, a misshapen snowman if he had to guess, he brings it to his mouth. 

It takes a bit of force to bite down on the sugar cookie; being kept in the oven a bit too long has slightly burnt the underside of the sugary treat. Instead of biting down on soft chewy goodness, the cookies have to be ground under strong molars to be choked down. If Geno had some milk on him, a little dunk would make this a much more rewarding experience. 

At least they’re easier to break apart instead of leaving a mushy mess in the crevices of his phalanges. 

Crushing the remainder of his cookie - watching it crumble apart with mild satisfaction - he tosses it out onto the powdered front yard. 

Just beyond the front porch light, a raven swoops down with premeditated precision, snatching the largest piece amidst the scattered mess, before retreating to his proclaimed bird feeder. 

He squawks a thanks before gulping the sugary sweet down. 

Geno smothers a smile behind chilled hands. He really should have grabbed some gloves before coming out here, but he’s feeling too bone-tired. Today’s been a long day. 

Nothing compared to him though. He’s lucky to have a moment to fuck around in his avian form for even a minute.

Geno jumps when the door opens behind him. Jolting around, he grumbles bitterly at the monster who managed to catch him off guard. 

“There you are.” Sans shuffles over, wrapped up in a chunky blue blanket - a new gift courtesy of Toriel and her newly acquired crocheting skills. He must have shortcutted straight into his bed from Grillby just moments ago. “Should have known you’d snatch the last of the goods.”

Geno glares, clutching the cookie bin tighter. “Who cleaned up the kitchen last night? Me. Ergo, I get the last of the cookies.” 

“You, doing house chores voluntarily? Taking the last of the food?” Sans scoffs, shaking his head. “You really are my evil twin.” 

“Fuck off!”

“Language. Santa might still be sneaking around.” Sans scolds, sneakily reaching for the cookies.

“His ass went straight to the North Pole.” Geno turns away, swatting his twin’s less-than-sneaky hands away. “To get away from obnoxious monsters like you. You really should have gotten coal this year.”

“Not totally against the idea.” Sans ponders, casting blue magic to discretely open the cookie bin lid. “Could have gotten Rocky a new friend. Could’ve named it Cole.”

“Well, you just gotta try extra hard next year,” Geno snaps, snatching a floating Gyftmas tree-shaped cookie - or was it a chicken? - from the air, before stuffing it in his mouth. 

“Fuck,” He coughs, most of the cookie falling out of his mouth in one piece, save for a small dent in the side. “That was a bad idea…” He moans, nursing his cheekbone.

“You gotta let it dissolve in your mouth first.” Sans scolds, easily picking up a new sugar cookie from the now unguarded cookie bin. He carefully brings it to his teeth, demonstrating the proper way to consume hardtack sugar cookies. The skeleton chews methodically for a moment, the slow grinding gradually getting on Geno’s nerves. “Too bad we can’t produce saliva though.” Sans ultimately concludes, swallowing the remainder of the uncrushed cookie.  

Bending over, Geno crumbles up the rest of the dented treat and throws it out into the yard. The raven immediately gets to work, gradually cleaning up the mess of sweets. 

“You sure birds can eat that?” Sans leans against the railing. “Not sure if it’s right for human consumption either. Frisk is one determined kid, but even they couldn’t keep it down for long.”

“Maybe. I don’t know my birds too well, but this one is built different.” 

The raven croaks proudly from the bird feeder, flapping his wings enthusiastically. 

“Heh, cool.”

The two skeletons watch as the bird picks the front yard clean of all crumbs, only leaving behind disjointed footprints along the disrupted snow. Before long, the raven finally takes off into the dark night sky, crooning as he goes. 

“Imma head a little earlier to work tomorrow,” Geno speaks up, shuffling in place and running his hands up and down his sweater’s sleeves. 

“You’re working already?” Sans blinks. 

“Nah, Al and I are just finishing up a side project. Should be done soon if we don’t run into any more hiccups.”

“That’s cool .”

Geno snorts. “You need more original stuff.”

“ Snow problem. I’ll have a skeleton of new material to work with by next year .” 

“Not the New Year’s jokes already…” Geno moans, but he smiles all the same. 

///

Geno waits patiently for the traffic lights overhead to change. Even though there are no cars in sight, Geno stubbornly waits for the lights to give him the clear, ignoring the light trembling of his phalanges clutching against his present. 

Geno normally didn’t take this path to the park, usually taking a shortcut after work to get there. However, today found himself redirected from his usual shortcut a street down from the park. 

The skeleton swallows when the lights finally turn green. Reluctantly, he lets his legs carry him further down the street and closer to the park. He can feel his sliver of a soul beating faster the closer he gets. 

Fidgeting with the present, Geno has to mentally reprimand himself for digging his gloved hands into the delicate wrapping paper. He bought it on the way to work. QC already had her Gyftmas wares on sale, eighty percent off. Geno managed to score a decent holiday-themed gift box, a cute ribbon bow included. 

Alphys had gushed over it. A good stamp of approval on her end. 

Much to his excitement and dismay, Geno finds himself at the entryway of the park much earlier than he anticipated. Darting his eyelight around, he finds no cloaked figures or obnoxiously loud birds flapping about. 

Checking his phone, he finds himself exactly on time. 

Geno looks down at the gift box. He and Al had worked their asses off on this. He really hoped it would work… for his sake.

He deserved it. 

Wandering aimlessly into the park, Geno observes the assortment of snowmen and snow angels that litter the park’s grounds. School would be starting soon, following New Year’s Eve, and with that would bring an end to the children’s momentary freedom from their education prison. Adults would have to go back to the monotony of their nine-to-five jobs and life would continue as usual until another holiday cut everyone a momentary break. 

Not for everyone though… 

But hopefully… 

A low croak reverberates from above. Geno catches a sideways glance of a raven passing over before it disappears from sight. A flurry of feathers suddenly breaks out from behind before a familiar aura starts to envelop the park. 

Turning around, Geno can’t help but smile, his prior worries immediately slip from his mind. “There you are. Honestly had me worried for a second.” 

“Been meaning to give this to you for a while now.” Taking a step forward, he brandishes the present, cringing at the mental image of a school girl confessing to their upperclassman - thanks a lot for that Alphys, this memory is now forever tarnished.

Geno shakes his head. Let’s try that again. “Happy Gyftmas, Reaper.”

Chapter Text

Clawed paws rhythmically dance against the wooden counter, heterochromic eyes making their standard laps around the store before landing periodically on the mounted cuckoo clock.

He still had an hour before closing time. Although, he might just close early again.

Business was slower during the winter season, save for poinsettias, mistletoes, and hollies of course - with each new year Asgore could’ve sworn there was more and more demand for these festive florals. Human traditions have been incredibly fascinating to monsters, and Frisk had been eager to share.   

Unfortunately, their efforts to introduce the mistletoe last Gyftmas earned him Toriel’s ire for the foreseeable month. He could only blame himself really, he let his emotions get the best of him.   

Asgore startles out of his self-deprecating spiral when the shop bell rings throughout the floral boutique. Straightening behind the counter, Asgore prepares his customer-friendly smile, only to break out in genuine joy at the familiar face that approached. 

“Howdy, Sans!” He jumps up, startling the small skeleton with his bombastic voice. “It has been quite some time. How have you been, old friend?”  

‘Sans’ blinks, peaking over his shoulders at the shut door before realization strikes him. 

“Oh, heya.” He chuckles. “Actually, I’m Geno.”  

“...Geno!” Asgore pales, shaking his head. Ah, how embarrassing. True, he was getting along in years, but he didn’t think he’d reach the stage of misremembering people so soon! “Forgive me. It is near impossible to tell you two apart sometimes.”   

Geno’s light-hearted simper doesn’t waver, thankfully. “It’s fine, Your Majesty. It’s the hardships of sharing the same features as my inferior kin.” He pauses for a moment, a devious smirk stretching across his cheekbones. “Heh, I bet it feels like you're seeing doubles sometimes, eh?” 

“Oh, ho ho ho! Good one!” Hit with a fit of laughter, Asgore has to lean on the counter to collect himself. Wiping away a stray tear, Asgore can’t help but notice Geno’s outfit. It is much more formal than what the skeleton twins normally prefer wearing. Curious, he pulls himself from the counter. “Well, Geno. What may I do for you?”

The skeleton’s approachable attitude deflates. Quickly scrambling, he resorts to a more reserved demeanor. “Uh, right. Well, I was looking for…” He pauses, grinding his teeth. “Um, do you have…” Geno’s words trail off as he burrows his face into his scarf. 

“Sorry,” Asgore leans down. “I didn’t quite catch that, my friend.”

“...what flowers do you think… I mean, I’m trying to…”

“Are you looking to pick out some flowers for someone special?” 

“Y-Yeah! I’m thinking of—” He snaps his jaw shut, a rush of blue exploding over his bony features. He anxiously taps his phalanges together as the blue glow intensifies. “I want to ask them to be my… datemate. Today, if you ain’t too busy.”

“Well, congratulations!” Asgore booms, startling the smaller monster who nearly jumps in place. “It takes a lot of courage to ask someone you like such a meaningful question. I can promise you, Geno, that we will pick out the best bouquet - they will be sure to accept your request!”

A shy but giddy smile manages to creep on Geno’s face. “T-Thanks, Your Majesty.”

“Of course. Just follow me, I have organized the sentimental flora right this way.” 

Maneuvering through the overabundance of colorful and pungent vegetation huddled within the compacted interior, the goat monster leads the skeleton to a spacious corner of the store. Old Valentine's Day decorations hang from the wall. The age of the various knickknacks is very apparent by the bleached coloring of the colored paper - the streamers themselves just barely holding them up. You could tell they hadn’t been taken down in years. 

Thankfully, the beauty of the flowers does enough to distract you from that fact. 

It’s a colorful display that clearly overwhelms the smaller monster. Smiling, Asgore clears his throat. “Roses are the most popular, but I think we can find you something a little more personal, don’t you think?”

“...yeah, lilac the sound of that.”

Chuckling, Asgore turns his attention back to the eye-catching display, eyes scanning for the most suitable flora, aahing at his first selection.  

“Hydrangeas - given as gifts to loved ones - convey precious feelings. They also come in a variety of pastel colors - including rainbow!”

“Or,” Asgore excitedly jumps onto the corresponding array. “If you would like something simpler, we have your standard sunflowers. ‘ProCut Gold’. Bred for season-long blooms.”

“Sunflowers sound nice.” Geno mumbles, phalanges playing with his scarf. He smiles absentmindedly. “I think he’d like them…”  

“Wonderful!” Asgore claps. “Oh, I forgot to mention. Most bouquets are paired with another flower or two. It helps bring everything all together. Any preferences?”

“Ugh…”   

“Might I suggest baby's breath?” Gingerly plucking from one of the assorted bundles displayed, the former king presents a delicate-looking stem covered in white specks. “Although typically used as fillers for bigger flowers, they can be very beautiful on their own in one big bouquet. They also come in various colors,” He motions to the petite baby’s breath held between his claws. “These white ones, for instance, are said to look like little snow poffs or evening shining stars.” 

“Really?” Squinting his socket, Geno snorts. “Bit of a reach, but I get it.” 

“Hmm? Does it not make you want to… reach for the stars ? Ho ho ho!”

“...hehe. Ahem. Good one, Your Majesty.” Geno shuffles awkwardly in place. Thankfully, the former king is too caught up in his fit of laughter to notice. “Oh, and I’d like to add those too…” He points hesitantly at the baby’s breath displayed. “If that's okay.”

“Ah, of course, of course! Allow me to—” Asgore pulls away from the flowers he was reaching for, squinting as his colorful pupils bounce in thought. “Oh, how could I forget? We need to go over the floral accessories!”  

Immediately, Asgore gets to work, muttering to himself as he darts over to the displays, counting and examining each flower from stem to bud before adding it to his current bouquet. Even without the accessories, the bouquet already looks breathtaking, the former king having effortlessly arranged them into a simple yet endearing array. 

“While warmer colors are typically expected with sunflowers,” He muses. “We can work with whatever palette you would like.”

“Blue’s fine.”

Asgore hums, twirling a baby’s breath before tucking it into the bouquet’s center. “If it is just one color you would like to use, then in addition to the discount, the cost should be…” 

“Discount? No, it’s fine, Your Majesty. You’ve already helped me a lot—”

“Oh, I insist!” Asgore smile inflates. “The store has not been busy as of late, and it has been quite a while since I have last made a bouquet.” Finally finished his count, he spins around. Geno just narrowly dodges the larger monster who expertly navigates the cluttered flora inching every surface of the small shop. Geno follows after not as expertly, getting a faceful of a droopy flower labeled ‘cockscomb’ up his nasal. “Why, it should only take me a few minutes. Just sit tight and I should have it done in no time!” The goat monster hollers, before disappearing into the back.

“That’s more reason you shouldn’t be giving me a discount!” Geno squawks back before being interrupted by an ugly hack. One good sneeze spits out a couple of cockscomb petals from his stuffy nasal. 

Despite himself, Geno waits at the counter in flustered silence. Ten minutes later, Asgore reappears, a wonderfully crafted bouquet in hand. 

As Geno leaves the store, bouquet held gingerly in his hands, a raven trails after him from above. All the way to the park. 

///

There was a paper clip resting on the front porch’s banister this morning. 

It wasn’t anything interesting. It’d been mishappened, forced back into its original shape. Sans doubted it could hold more than two papers together before it broke - the rust forming on one of the loops told him as much. 

Before the skeleton can think anything else of it, a skeletal hand slaps over. He looks over at his twin, quirking his bony brow.  

“Left this out overnight.” He snatches the paperclip up, smuggling it into the pockets of his cardigan. “My bad.”

Sans shudders, burying into his jacket as another gust of air hits the neighborhood. It’s been pretty windy this week. Papyrus has been asking them to properly close the door, complaining how the winds have been strong enough to slam open the door, leaving ugly dents on the walls. 

With winds like these hitting every other minute, that paperclip should have been long gone by now. 

He can feel Geno shifting anxiously beside him. 

“Aight, so I’m just gonna head inside, see ya!” 

He doesn’t even get a word in before the other runs inside, slamming the door behind him. 

What’s got him all worked up over a paper clip? Sans can’t help but snort as he slumps down on the porch swing, squeaking offensive under his weight. What a weirdo. 

Sans curses as another gust of wind crashes down, nearly sending him flying off the swing. 

Skipping up the stairs, Geno tucks himself away in his room. The hand tucked away in his pocket meticulously traces the paperclip; phalanges lightly scrapping against the crusted rust.

Once properly securing himself in his room, door shut and all, he wanders over to his bed. Kneeling down, he flicks his wrist, blue magic enveloping the simple cardboard box pushed all the way in the back. It slowly drags against the carpeted flooring, stopping right at his knees. 

He can feel himself smiling dumbly as he lifts the lid. 

Of what resided in the hidden box under his bed, only two of the items sitting within could be might be considered ‘valuable’. One smooth rock here - the specific ore was outside of Geno’s limited geological knowledge - and what was a pretty-looking bracelet that might go for fifteen dollars, and that’s being generous. 

As for the rest of the goods? Well, here were just a few:

A small metal music box. It was broken, and turning the crank created the most pathetic melody; it was barely legible as having once been a melody. 

A smooth pebble. Probably fished out from a slow-moving stream. 

An old jingle bell. The bright red paint was barely holding on anymore and the sides were dented, trapping the ball in place. The only sound it made now was the hollow rolling when tilted. 

Those were just a few of the many trinkets stuffed inside. 

With a soft hum, Geno places the paper clip carefully atop the hoard of knickknacks, before carefully tucking the hefty box under his bed. 

Out of any curious or judgmental eyes now. 

He jumps at the loud rapping against his window. Twisting around, he curses at the cloaked figure waiting patiently on the other side. They don’t react to him flailing to get on his feet, not that he could tell anyway with the shrouded hood. They simply continue to tap on the window. 

As he approaches the window, the tapping stops. Again, they wait patiently 

In their other hand, he can see them twiddling with a pebble. It’s smooth, probably scavenged from a small creek. 

Pushing the window up, the cloaked figure shuffles back, their large wings fluttering wildly to keep them upright. Latching onto the window sill, the wings tuck back in on themselves as the hooded figure makes themselves comfortable once more, their upper body practically halfway through. They hum, their hood tilting as they take in the room.

“Get in before someone sees you!” Geno hisses in a hushed whisper. 

“Inviting death in?” The figure hums, twirling the smooth pebble in their hands. They look nearly identical to Geno’s, but the tips of their phalanges have a slight curve to them; clawed. They lean forward, their hood a good inch away from Geno’s. His nonexistent skin shudders as they breathe out, their exhale rivaling the freezing blows of the persistent winds plaguing Newer Home as of late.

He doesn’t back away. 

A giggle seeps through before they even start to speak, already unable to contain themselves.

“You truly have a death wish , dear.” 

Despite himself, Geno smiles. “You already know that, Reaper. Now get your ass in here before I catch it! My room’s already cold enough!” 

“Will you now?” They giggle again, pushing themselves in. 

When they inevitably get stuck, Geno doesn’t help them. He lets them flap their wings around frantically for a good solid minute before finally taking pity on the outcast god. 

Chapter Text

Sans woke up gradually, hazy eyelights taking their sweet time materializing under heavy sockets. Shifting over, the skeleton groans as the sunlight breaching through the uncurtained window hits him directly in the eyes. 

While he normally would have just rolled back to sleep in the Underground, the Surface always found new ways to kick him out of his usual listless habits. Whether that be a power outage from a particularly strong storm setting up an impromptu family-bonding night lit by cheap scented candles, or something as simple as a ladybug wandering into the house forcing him to go out and get some fresh air in the backyard. 

And the sun, without fail, always got him out of bed. 

They were little things, but they always helped keep him from fostering in his head for too long. 

Sans stretches against the bed as a yawn takes hold, his limbs twisting and sprawling against the bed until his jaw locks with a satisfying pop. 

With a long exhale, Sans slowly begins to heave himself out of bed, groggily rubbing at his still sleep-heavy sockets. His feet search aimlessly for his slippers alongside the foot of his bed. 

Once slipped on, Sans saunters over to the door, not bothering to change out of his pajamas. He had no plans for the day, so the pajamas were staying on until he climbed back to bed later. 

Weekends are such a blessing. 

Wandering down the hallway, eye sockets barely keeping themselves open, Sans almost misses the pile of feathers strewn around the hall. Unfortunately for him, he nearly slips on a particularly large one - roughly the size of a goose feather. He’s saved from falling unceremoniously on his tailbone by slamming shoulder-first into the adjacent wall. The framed pictures hanging alongside the wall shudder at the impact. 

Now he’ll have a sore shoulder for the rest of the day. Awesome. 

Grumbling as he rolls his arm, Sans scrutinizes the mess in the hallway. The feathers were in various sizes, but most were small plumage. Looked as though a few chickens had a meltdown in here or something. 

A few were jammed under Geno’s door. 

…yeah, no. He was not dealing with this. Not without his coffee. 

Carefully sidestepping the plumage, Sans successfully makes it over to the top of the stairs. Only he wavers, his hand gripping the railing in aghast disbelief.  

While Papyrus took on the role of de facto cook of the household, Geno’s turn in the kitchen came on Saturdays, a task he employed himself recently actually. 

He only really tried in the mornings. After that, Geno usually ordered takeout. Although last week, Geno did preheat some pizza rolls for dinner. At least it was progress. 

But the highlight of Saturday mornings was the new coffee recipes Geno would always try out for the two of them; made Saturdays a real competition against Sundays.

So why, on a Saturday, did Sans not smell any of that rich coffee aroma? 

The coffee was the first thing Geno would set up before throwing something together for breakfast. By the time Sans woke up, whatever blend Geno chose would typically permeate the house. So no coffee meant… 

Geno wasn’t up. 

But he’s always been up on time! Even before his internship and his not-so-secret significant other came back into his life, Geno was always up around the time Papyrus would start his day at the ungodly hour of five sharp. 

Except for when his nightmares got bad…

Shit. With how quiet things have been lately, Sans has completely forgotten about Geno’s extensive history of night terrors. They would pop up here and there, but as of late, Geno’s had a pretty good streak of uninterrupted nights.

Until now that is. 

Papyrus must have heard all the thrashing last night too, Geno’s room sits right in the middle of both their rooms after all. Must have been a really bad one too if it had him gasping awake like that. Poor guy, probably stuck in the memories of a particularly nasty run. 

The soft click of the front door pulls Sans from his worrisome thoughts. Papyrus waltzes in, clad in his workout outfit, his bones sheening from the light coat of sweat. Although surprised, he warmly greets Sans with his contagious smile. 

“Ah, good morning, Brother!” He huffs, flipping off his cap to wipe away the sweat on his forehead.

Before Sans can respond, a blue blur darts in just as the front door closes, the figure stopping just beside Papyrus. Flipping her red hair up, Undyne’s eye lands on the short skeleton above.“Hey nerd!” She pants, stretching her leg. “Surprised to see you up this early! Figured a midnight trip to the convenience store would wear you out.” 

“Morning, bro. Sup, Undyne” Leaning on the banister, Sans plasters his signature grin much more easily than he initially expected. “Not sure what you’re referring to exactly - I’ve been too busy catching up on some much needed Z’s to be sneaking to any convenience stores.” 

Undyne snorts, leering knowingly at the short monster. “Yeah, sure.” 

Still confused, Sans ultimately shrugs. “How was yall’s ‘training regiment’?”

“Much more rewarding than last time, that’s for sure! We ran around Newer Home thrice today!”

“And we each got a new personal best in our boulder crunches!” Undyne chimes in smugly. 

“Cool.”

“Oh, we also stopped by King Asgore’s on our way back. He showed us his greenhouse and, wowie, the King has outdone himself this year!” 

Sans’ grin curls with mischievous anticipation. “Would you say it was… absolutely bouquet-tiful ?”

Undyne’s razor smile immediately deflates into a flat scowl. “Ugh…”  

“Well, to be honest with you, they were…” Papyrus pauses in dramatic anticipation. “ Tulip-tly amazing! Nyeh heh heh!”

Undyne turns to Papyrus with betrayed exasperation. 

Sans chuckles, his eyelights lighting up. “Heh, now that was pretty a-maize-ing. Succ that I didn’t think of that one sooner. Well, better a bloomer than a gloomer.”  

“...welp, my entire mood’s ruined now.” 

“I throw you an inch Brother and yet you choose to exploit my generosity. For shame, Sans, for shame.”

“Eh, was fun while it lasted.”

“Anyway, I better bounce.” Finishing up her stretches, Undyne begins jogging in place. “Alphys and I are heading to this new cafe. See ya later, nerds!”

And with that, the former Captain kicks down the door, sprinting off. Sans is fairly certain he catches her leaping over a car just out of the upper widow’s view. 

“The weather today is really nice, Sans.” Papyrus fonds, taking off his worn sneakers. They’ll have to look for new ones soon at this rate. “It’s a shame the weather app says it’ll drop back down to twenty.”

“Hmm, probably gonna open up shop soon once the weather stays consistent,” Sans muses, finally making his way down the staircase. “You should stop by sometime. Buns’ll surely be flying off the shelf the first week.”

“Perhaps I will. Unless you plan on throwing buns at me again like last time.” 

“Hey, when it gets busy how else am I supposed to appease the crowd?”

“Maybe start with not throwing hot dog buns at your customers! That is a terrible business practice!”

“Aww, but it’s my thing. Keeps business relevant.”

“It’s a wonder you still even have a business…” Shaking his head, Papyrus lets his attention drift, finally noticing the empty kitchen table. 

“Oh! Have we not started breakfast?”

Sans’ shoulders slump. “Yeah, no. Uh… Geno hasn’t gotten up yet.” 

“That’s strange, he’s usually up by now.”

Usually. The shorter skeleton didn’t miss the other’s phrasing. “I don’t think he slept well last night, Paps.” He timidly runs his hand down the back of his neck. Stars, he feels like a tattletale; he really shouldn’t though. “Might be his nightmares again.” He manages to murmur out.

Papyrus blinks. “Nightmares?” The taller skeleton hums, his gaze subconsciously drifting to the upstairs railing. 

“I thought I heard something, but it was very late. Was this just last night?”

Sans cringes. Has this been going on longer than he thought? Man, he feels like the worst right now. “Not sure. Haven’t really been paying attention.”

“That’s alright, Brother.” Papyrus comforts the short skeleton, sensing his self-deprecation from a mile away. “We all have gotten a lot busier lately. And while I too am worried for Geno, the best we can do is show him we’re here to listen. You know how he can be. Especially considering you two are one and the same!” Papyrus chortles, although it is a bit more forced than his earlier confident laugh.

Now his worrying’s gone and soiled Papyrus’ whole good mood. Or maybe he was hiding more than he was letting on… 

“Morning!” 

Oh, boy.

Sans and Papyrus look over as the skeleton of the hour himself descends the stairs. Despite having slept in, he seems awfully energized; even has a skip in his steps. 

“Morning,” Sans squints, discreetly scrutinizing his twin. For all his assumptions, Geno’s didn’t give off any plagued with unrelatedness nightmares all night vibes. No eyebags, no slouched shoulders, nothing. It’s like he just came back from open mic night at Grillby’s.

Walking up to the two skeletons, Geno shares a curious glance. 

“Uh, what’s up?”

Sans and Papyrus shuffle in place, none too keen on going first. But as the uncomfortable minutes drag on, Papyrus finally decides to take the initiative. He, for one, practiced what he preached - unlike the rest of this family. 

And that’s what made Papyrus so cool. 

“Geno, are you feeling alright?” He asks, testing the waters. “You’re usually up before Sans!” 

Geno frowns, eyelight dancing between the two before connecting Papyrus’ loose questioning. “Ah, sorry!” He sputters, cringing as his magic brightens under his tightly woven scarf, highlighting certain sensitive marks along his vertebra. “Had trouble sleeping is all, no big deal…” His eyelight anxiously flickers up at the upper floor. If there is a god, please don’t let that door open.

He tenses when the two skeletons share equally concerned faces. Sans squints, brows raised as he follows Geno’s gaze. Shit… 

“I'll get the coffee ready!” He shouts, speed-walking past the confused skeletons and into the kitchen. 

“You’re good. No need to rush.” Sans mumbles. Papyrus frowns. With a huff, he follows after the haggard skeleton. 

While Papyrus decides to follow Geno into the kitchen, Sans seats himself at the table, waiting for the obnoxiously loud grinding of the coffee machine to start up before resting his droopy sockets. 

By the time the grinding comes to an end, Sans parts his eyes to see Geno and Papyrus emerge from the kitchen, two steaming cups of joe in the smaller skeleton’s hands. Sans reaches for the offering cup greedily, like a starved man being graced with his first meal in days.

Whatever it was that was going on with Geno. The feathers, the late breakfast, the theoretical nightmares? It was all worth it for this moment. 

Where Papyrus sits in his usual chair, Geno chooses to stand beside his twin. Leaning on one hip, Geno too savors the fruits of his labor.

He always takes his coffee on the hotter side - no cream or milk to cool the freshly steaming brew. Despite being a fellow skeleton, Sans doesn’t know how he can handle the heat. 

Geno seems to be avoiding Papyrus; bro probably tried to start a proper conversation. Damn. Now it’s up to him. Time for a more directed approach. 

Taking one last gulp of his morning medicine, he reluctantly puts the cup down with a weary exhale. 

“Random question.” He points. “Did you happen to fall out of bed last night? Kept waking up to some thuds here and there, bud.”

Magic torching his cheekbones, Geno spits his mouthful of coffee into Sans’ face, nearly dropping his mug. Luckily, his blue magic catches it in time just before it could hit the ground. 

Unluckily, Sans still has a mouthful of hot coffee currently scorching his face. 

“Holy shit, Sans - I’m so sorry!”

Sans hardly pays any mind to the frantic ramblings of his family, too busy writhing against the table in agony. 

“T-There should be burn cream in the bathroom!”

“Which one?” He hears Papyrus shout. His voice is shaky, just barely containing the giant wet globs building up in his sockets. 

“Upstairs!”

“Heh, I can really feel the caffeine kicking in this way.” He laughs, trying to lighten the situation, although it comes out more like a miserable croak. “Ow, no. That’s just third-degree burns…” He lets himself sink onto the floor. While there, he rubs his face against the soft carpet. While not much, it gives him some reprieve from the nauseating pain. 

“Sans now is really not the time…” Geno whines, applying a steady stream of healing magic. His other hand messily daps up the coffee with a kitchen towel. It’s a fancy thing that Toriel gifted this Gyftmas. Shame it’s white texture is now ruined with gross brown splotches. At least it’ll fit right at home now.  

Geno gets enough of the coffee off for him to safely pry open his sockets just as Papyrus bolts, striding up the stairs. He sails down the hallway, making it past Geno’s door before skimming face-first into the end of the hall’s wall. 

“Where do these feathers keep coming from?!” Papyrus’ muffled exclamations ring from his place on the ground. Sans can faintly see the outline of the taller skeleton cradled in a fetal position.

Geno’s whining grows louder, slapping his hands over his face in exasperation… unintentionally slapping the still-hot towel directly into his face. 

Family therapy would have to wait until they all got the all-clear from the Monster Clinic. 

///

Papyrus: If you can’t find them in your room, they may be in Geno’s.

Papyrus: Apologies, Sans. It is really hard to tell them apart. We have got to start buying different brands for the two of you. It would make the laundry much easier for me.

With a groan, Sans tosses his phone to the side, ignoring the long stream of messages as Papyrus continues to lament the thankless job that is laundry. 

It's the third time Papyrus had mixed up their socks. The difference was clear as day to him and Geno. While they were consistent with owning the same brand, Sans’ were much more discolored, worn, and more likely to have strange unwashable stains. Geno’s were newer, having yet to decay under years in quality. 

And yet still, despite all their family meetings specifically centered around the subject of their socks - even paired with assisted slide presentations - Sans still finds some decent quality socks among the pile of dulled rags. 

They may be the same person, but Sans was very particular about his socks. 

Plus it was weird to be wearing other people’s socks. Alternate version of yourself or not. 

Rolling himself out of bed, he marches over to Geno’s room. Thankfully no feathers await him as he knocks on the door. He waits for a beat before he pounds with a little more force. “Hey, Geno! You there?”

He’s usually a pretty patient guy, but when it comes to Geno, a fellow snoozer, he’s gotta put a little more elbow grease into rousing the other up. And vice versa of course, although it’s usually more of a struggle for Geno. Sans is just more lazier. 

With nothing from the other side, Sans lets himself in. Geno’s normally home at this hour, so either he’s sleeping late today or hasn’t made it home yet. Either way, Sans is only going to take a minute. Nothing more, nothing less. He knows more than anyone not to snoop in another person’s room announced. 

The room is more or less the same as Sans’, just a bit on the tidier side. More livable, as Papyrus would kindly put it. Looked like someone who had their life put together… for the most part. But right now, Geno’s room has definitely seen better days. 

For one, he now had an answer to where all the feathers had mysteriously vanished too. They were everywhere. Geno’s bed was practically covered in them. 

Cautiously swiping a few off the bed confirmed that Geno was still out. Good. Now all Sans had to do was get the socks, get out, and never bring this forbidden knowledge up to Geno. 

Heading to the dresser, he notices the open window when a shiver runs down his spine. Although spring was beginning to round the corner, some days were still outrageously cold. And of course, Geno decided to leave the window wide open on this particular day.

Just get the socks, Sans. No need to get so pressed. Just in and out. 

After a minute of skimming through the messily folded undergarments and switching to the next drawer, Sans finally finds his socks. They basically stand out against Geno’s newer pairs.  

Closing the drawer, Sans’ eyelights pause over Geno’s desk. It was cleared off for the most part, save for the sunflower bouquet that sat in a half-full glass vase. 

Secured in a soft blue streamer, it mostly retained its shape, even with the missing petals and drooping stems. The water could only do so much to prolong the short-lived lifespan of trimmed flowers. 

But really, it was the medallion resting beside it that interested Sans the most. Although simple in design, it certainly stands out as the most aesthetic thing in Geno’s modest room. 

To add to that… something about its design reminded Sans of some of Alphys’ newer inventions. Specifically the centerpiece. While it could be mistaken for any pretty-looking jewel that was turned into a fancy accessory, if you looked at it more closely, you would notice the subtle pulsation that emitted from it. Although it sure looked like your standard eye candy, it most certainly was anything but.  

Was this what Geno and Alphys have been working on? 

Nope, stay focused, Sans. Your nerd days are over. In and out.  

Only now, Sans was tempted by the second most noticeable thing that stuck out in Geno’s disorganized room: the horde of shopping bags piled around the room, most of them from brands he’d never even heard of - but boy they sure sounded expensive. 

Curious, he picks a bag at random, reading the large branding plastered on the side. 

“Hottest Topics?”

He remembers Alphys and Undyne gushing about shopping there during one of their dates. Apparently, it's a store themed around weird subcultures, like anime and whatnot - right up the girls’ alley. 

What’d Geno get from there? 

Rummaging through its content, his phalanges get snagged on dark frills. Attempting to wave his hand free only snags the fabric out of the bag, revealing an overly extravagant gothic dress. 

The skirt puffed out with the number of layers sewn to it, giving it a cute appeal. The darker dye balanced it out, though, giving it a healthy balance of mature yet endearing charm. 

That’s what Sans thought until he noticed the… generous boob window. 

Geno certainly had… a unique taste in fashion. 

Overall, the dress gave major emo vibes. Or was it goth? They both have that dark and mysterious aesthetic going for them.

What kind of phase was Geno going through, anyway? Did all of these bags have similarly themed clothes? He hadn’t noticed the other wearing anything besides his usual favorite clothes. Was he just too shy to wear them yet? Or was he wearing these in private?

Behind him, the bedroom door squeaked open, jolting the spacing skeleton right into his worst-case scenario. 

Shit! What happened to in and out?! He had to take a shortcut asap!

Wait, not with the dress! But there was no time to shove it back in the bag in time! Panicked, he tossed the dress off to the side, accidentally serving a strike onto several other precariously staked bags. Sans can only gape in trepidation as intricate outfits and accessories scatter across Geno’s room. 

Fuck…

Too late to do anything now. The full swing of the door and startled movement from behind tells him as much. 

Turning around, Sans tries to put on a clean-handed grin - emphasis on tries. 

Getting caught redhanded by his twin in a… less than desirable position - stars, this feels like one of those subplots Alphys would be stuck miserably dancing around - Sans can’t help but notice that Geno got two more bags with him.

Maybe he can salvage this! Just be upfront and honest, no need to drag this out any longer. “...ugh, sup—”

“—I’m experimenting!” Geno blurts out before Sans, his confession only intensifying the already vibrant glow on his face. 

Sans’ eyelights flicker back to the bags more closely. They’re sporting the same Hottest Topics logo. Dimmed eyelights flick back at Geno’s constipated face. “Not one to judge, bud. You do you, you do you.”

Hands aimlessly pat along the bedroom floor until they land on the abandoned mound of socks. Snatching them up with frantic urgency, Sans slowly rises from his awkward crouch, as if his actions are being meticulously scrutinized by a wild beast. “I’m just here for my…” He waves the handful of socks he’s got crammed in his fists. “So, yeah. Okay. Bye.”

Sans doesn’t give Geno the opportunity to sputter another unnecessarily agonizing confession before he teleports out of the room. His jump drops him on his bed. Landing facefirst into his pillow, Sans allows himself to rot for the remainder of the day. 

That is until Papyrus drags him down for dinner. He also has to drag down Geno, who coincidentally decided to lock himself in his room as well. 

They don’t talk about it at dinner. Or ever.

They’re pretty good at doing that. 

Chapter Text

“Have you tried calling him?”

“Yeah, bro. But I think his phone’s off.” Sans tilts his phone as yet another automated response interrupts his phone's dialing. “Keep getting sent to voice mail.”

Papyrus whines, his phalanges - still wearing oven gloves - impatiently tapping against the table. Today’s dinner, eggplant lasagna, has long since gone cold. Sans would complain more about the prolonged delay in dinner if he hadn’t gone to Grillby’s an hour before. 

“Try calling Alphys. Maybe he fell asleep again in the supply closet?”

“Paps, chill. This ain’t the first time Geno’s gone radio silent on us. You know how he is… been.” 

Despite his reassurances to his mopey brother, Sans couldn’t help but worry himself. It wasn’t like Geno to miss dinner, especially when Papyrus would excitedly announce preparing a new recipe the morning of for the whole household to hear. 

So either something bad did happen to Geno or he’d just forgotten and gotten distracted by a certain… someone that’s been making Sans think certain things about himself he’d rather not be thinking about. 

When his twin finally decides to come home, it’s close to sundown. Geno guilty sits himself down at the table, empty socket glued to the table as Papyrus berates him and Sans silently scrutinizes him. 

“I’ll go reheat dinner.” Papyrus huffs, his lengthy scolding finally wrapped up. “Just make yourself comfortable, Brother.” 

Watching Papyrus carry the sad cold lasagna back into the kitchen, Sans settles his sights on Geno. Geno, in turn, tries to look anywhere but. 

“You good, bud?” Sans pushes playfully. “Ain’t like you to miss Paps’ cooking.”

“Just lost track of time is all.” Is all Geno offers, ending the conversation there.  

Returning with the now-steaming lasagna, Papyrus distributes the pasta, filling the silence with anecdotes from the day’s outing. 

“My car wouldn’t turn back on, so Undyne carried it back home. We’re bringing it to the mechanic tomorrow, so unfortunately Miss Toriel won’t be coming over for cooking lessons tomorrow.” 

“That sucks.” Sans chimes in, reaching for another serving of lasagna, having already inhaled his first two helpings. “I’ll probably stop by Tori’s then, can’t miss a day with my gal pal.”

“Hmm,” Geno picks at his plate. 

Sans leans forward, his pasta-covered face inches from Geno’s. Papyrus cringes disapprovingly from the other side of the table. “Got something to share with the table, bud?” 

Geno’s eyelight flickers as he contemplates, unreadable thoughts flying around his skull. With a deep breath, he sheds his previously timid air as he turns to Sans with sudden newfound confidence.

“Yeah, actually.” He sits up, addressing both monsters “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you guys.”

“Aight, sure.” Taken aback, Sans looks to Papyrus who simply shrugs. Ultimately, Sans leans back into his seat, reaching again for his fork. “Let’s hear it.”

Geno blinks under the sudden attention, his newfound conviction already beginning to crumble. 

“I…” He shakily exhales, fingers digging into his sweaty palms.  “I’ve been seeing someone. Romantically.”

“Uh, yeah?” Sans chews disinterestedly. “We know that already.”

“You know?!” Geno shrieks, causing the two to jump. 

“Uh, you weren’t exactly subtle if that’s what you were going for,” Sans responds after regaining his bearings, shoving his forkful of eggplant into his waiting maw. Geno and his girly scream nearly made him drop it. 

“What Sans means to say,” Papyrus jumps in as Geno buries his face into his hands. “We had noticed a certain change in you - for the better, of course - since you reconnected with your old friend. We were waiting for you to approach us about it.”

“I guess,” Geno whines, reluctantly pulling his hands away. “I mean, we go a bit back.” He sighs. Despite the front he tries to put up, a gentle smile manages to creep out of his forced pout. “He’s been there for me more than I can count.” He reminisces. 

Hearing sniffling, Geno looks up to see Papyrus’ sockets barely holding back thick tears. Sans meanwhile remains silent, holding his tongue for once this evening. 

“Bro, why are you crying?! A-Anyway,” Geno stutters, getting flustered all over again. “What I’m trying to say is, I want to introduce you guys to him. He’s, heh, actually been bugging me about properly introducing him to you guys and… I hope you two will like him back.”

Papyrus gasps. “Really? Well, we’d be happy to meet him! Right, Sans?”

Sans shrugs, picking at his half-eaten plate with less vigor than before. 

“How about we invite him over for dinner?” Papyrus suggests, excitedly squirming in his seat just at the idea. “The dating manual highly recommends family dinners as the perfect setting for one’s family and partner to meet!”

“That’s… actually a really good idea.”

“Of course it is! I am full of good ideas!” Papyrus leaps up, sockets glowing. “I’ll make my signature dish - oh, I’ll surely win them over with my amazing cooking! Nyeh heh heh!”

Geno giggles. “Thanks, Papyrus. You’re so cool. Oh, do you think you could make a dessert too?”

“But of course! Oh, I should make a pie! But what flavor should I use… Geno! Is your datemate a cinnamon or butterscotch enthusiast?”

Slumped against the table, Sans tunes out the lively conversation, lost in his troublesome thoughts. 

Damn, he really thought he could stretch this denial thing out a little bit longer. Maybe he can call in sick? No wait, he lives here. Darn. 

Well, let’s look at the bright side. Geno’s clearly happy in this new relationship, Papyrus gets to impress Geno’s datemate with his superb cooking, and Sans finally gets to meet the person who’s got Geno kicking his legs up and down all lovely-dovey. 

Maybe finally meeting Geno’s datemate would get him out of this weird self-identity funk? 

He’ll have to test that hypothesis, unfortunately. 

“We’ll help out with whatever you want, loverboy.” Sans joins in, catching Geno off-guard. He smirks at his twin’s skeptical glare. “Just tell us what to do. We’ll be your perfect wingmen.”

And besides - what’s the worst that could happen?

Chapter Text

“Papyrus, you’re fine! You don’t need to overdress like that.”

“And embarrass myself in front of your datemate with my lackluster appearance? Absolutely not!” 

“Alright, if you say so…” Geno settles, albeit still a little anxious. “Now I feel underdressed, heh.”

While Papyrus had gone out and purchased himself an all-new suit and tie - a great recommendation from Grillby - Geno had settled for a comfortable turtleneck sweater and high-waist dress pants, his favorite cardigan and red scarf thrown over to add onto the cozy aesthetic he had going on for himself. 

“Nonsense, Brother. You look great! Besides, your datemate will surely adore you no matter what you decide to wear.”

Blushing, Geno turns away abashedly.

Anxious brother placated for now, Papyrus turns his attention back to the stove. Placing the lid over the pot, he sets the dial to a low heat, leaving the spaghetti to a slow simmer until dinner was set to start. 

“Alrighty, we have the appetizers, the cheese platter, drinks…”

Sans enters the kitchen, donning his Sunday’s Best: a tuxedo t-shirt paired with his usual shorts, some clean socks, and a new pair of sneakers - with tied laces to boost. 

“Table set and all that,” He reports, scavenging the fridge for the half-full bag of shredded cheese. “Need anything else, chef?”

“I believe we are good for now,” Papyrus concludes. “Let me just check…” Sans and Geno step to the side as Papyrus shuffles around them and to the fridge. 

Chewing his shredded cheese, Sans’ attention drifts to the prepared dishes set on the counter. While tonight’s main course was Papyrus’ new and improved spaghetti was sure to leave them stuffed, the taller skeleton also prepared several appetizers for the special dinner. 

One of these appetizers Papyrus had reluctantly made was garlic knots at Geno’s request. Sans and Geno managed to sneak a savory bun out of the kitchen and split it while Papyrus was busy applying an obscene amount of MTT cologne, the powerful fragrance still permeating the house. 

For someone who couldn’t stand greasy foods, Papyrus sure knew how to bring out that mouthwatering garlicky-tang in every bite. Probably asked Grillby for some pointers. 

“I’ll put in the pie once they arrive.” Papyrus notes, shutting the fridge. “That way it should be fresh right out of the oven when it’s time for dessert! Oh, I feel like I’m forgetting something…” 

“If we’re forgetting something I can just pop down to the market and grab it.” Sans snorts, stuffing the remaining cheese back in the fridge. “Relax, bro. This ain’t anything serious, we’re all here to have a good old time.” He turns to Geno, who’s been awfully quiet for some time now. “Ain’t that right, lover boy?”

“…yeah.” His twin eventually replies, his phalanges absentmindedly playing with the hem of his cardigan. 

Geno looked sweatier than usual, anxious. Fair, they were finally meeting Geno’s special someone and all, but he didn’t have to be so nervous about it.

With Papyrus on full host mode, it looks like he’ll have to step in and save the day yet again. Wonder how well it’ll go this time. 

“Listen bud,” Sans drapes his arm supportively around the other’s shoulder, Geno’s ridged stance slightly easing under his touch. “There’s no need to be so wound up. This is supposed to be a fun little get-together - no need to be so rattled .”

“Hehe, sorry. Feeling a little empty-headed is all.” Geno’s halfhearted giggle dies off into a lackluster sigh rather quickly. 

Looks like puns weren’t gonna smooth things over this time, unfortunately.

“Look, I— I dunno I’m just,” Geno’s quiet for a bit, the skeleton struggling to conjure up the right words. “Nervous for you to meet him is all.” 

“Hey, it’ll be fine.” Sans pats his shoulder reassuringly. “He sounds like a great guy from what you’ve said about him already. We’ll get along with him for sure - you have my word.”

Geno smiles, his shoulders finally dropping in relief. “Thanks, Sans. You don’t know—”

“I mean, as long as they don’t look like me or Papyrus or anything - that’d be weird.” 

Geno jolts beside him, his smile immediately tugging into a sharp frown. Sans doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Don’t know what that says about a person. Heard some weird stories about that from some humans a while back. Hope that doesn’t apply to monsters.”

Before Sans can comment on Geno’s sudden near-perfect statue impression, there’s a knock at the door. 

“He’s here!” Papyrus squawks, nearly dropping the cheese platter he decided to rearrange for the fourth time in the past hour. “Quickly, into positions!”

“What positions?” Sans wonders over to his brother, Geno’s frozen state forgotten. “We didn’t practice anything.”

“Ah, it’s too late to figure that out now - we can’t leave Geno’s partner waiting any longer. Just,” Papyrus throws his hands up as he makes for the front door. “Make yourself look more presentable than usual!” 

“I’m always at my most presentable.”

Papyrus’ hand just meets the doorknob when Geno finally gets out of his stupor, eyelight bulging wide in barely-restrained panic. 

“W-Wait, Papyrus don’t—” 

Pulling open the door, a heavy indescribable wave of resignation floods the house. Sans barely manages to hold back the rush of nausea that nearly knocks him off his feet; Geno’s anticipated arms catch him before his boney butt can fully collide with the unforgiving hard floor. His vision blurs between the faint tinting swirls of gold and red before he can heave himself into a semi-sitting position against his twin. 

At the epicenter of all these forgotten burdensome sentimentalities from the bleak past stood a looming figure, whose sheer height puts Papyrus’ impressive growth spurt to shame. 

Sans presses a hand to his throbbing skull. 

It isn't Sunday. So why does he hear church bells?

Shrouded in a weathered cloak, their guest stands silently in the middle of the doorway, inviting in the outside draft that does quick work flooding the house with a sudden rush of nibbling cold air. The conniving breeze elicits a nauseating tremor to painstakingly crawl up Sans’ spine. The rapid chatter of his clenched teeth that followed is sure to leave his lower jaw sore. 

Papyrus shivers, but ultimately brushes the strange draft aside in lieu of welcoming their guest. “Ah, hello Geno’s Datemate! Please, come in - hope we didn’t keep you waiting for too long!” He crosses his arms, doing his best to suppress another stubborn shudder. “I did not realize it was going to be this cool today…”

The cloaked figure doesn’t answer, instead seeming to shrink under Papyrus’ warm greeting. They seem lost, no doubt their eyes darting about nervously behind their shrouded hood. 

“Umm,” They dumbly respond, attempting to peek around Papyrus’ tall frame. Their wings - a pair of ruffled, overgrown curtains that rivaled the darkness of the garbage dump’s lone waterfall's endless depths - fruitlessly fluttered behind them, betraying their muted panic. 

The sheen of each feather was nearly reminiscent of the many glowing crystals that cluttered Waterfall’s hoax starry ceiling - a false sense of comfort. 

No matter how many times his mind tried to grapple those simple wings, Sans began to notice that he couldn’t stop thinking about the garbage dumb’s lone waterfall. 

Why was that?

Their pinched shoulders spring up immediately upon catching sight of Geno, who glares back at them with barely restrained exasperation. 

“Sans! Are you okay?!”

Sans is pulled from his silent musings by a fretting Papyrus, the taller just now noticing the other’s collapsed state. Geno’s datemate startles, stumbling back as Papyrus rushes over to the fallen skeleton. 

They’re incredibly easy to read, despite their hidden facial features. Nervously playing with their hands, they seemed entirely focused on Papyrus all of a sudden; a sense of longing as Papyrus mother hens his lazybones of a brother.   

“I’m fine bro,” Sans gently brushes off Papyrus’ hands transferring healing magic. “Just felt a little empty-headed there for a second.”

“That is of high concern, you shouldn’t brush off your health like that!”

“He just needs a breather, Papyrus.” Geno tries to placate the taller skeleton’s worries. “Look, I—”

“...sorry about that,” The figure warily clears their throat. Hunched over themselves, they still stand in the open doorway a good few feet away from the three skeletons. “I tend to have that kind of effect on people.” Their words have a strange giddy edge to them, much like someone laying out clever little hints of an inside joke among a crowd unprivy to its true meaning. 

“Reaper…” Geno warns, his phalanges unconsciously digging into Sans’ shoulders.

Wordlessly, they pull back their hood, allowing Sans to finally meet… himself. 

Unlike him and Geno, the other Sans’ eye sockets were completely devoid of any light, a strange smoke-like aura just barely tangible instead spilling unendingly from within their skull. Despite his lack of eyelights, Sans could feel the other’s gaze rest heavily on him. 

“Greetings, it is nice to finally meet you two.” The cloak-wearing Sans bows timidly, his words sound rehearsed. “Although, we have met before, heh.” His unsettling smile crinkles with hesitant glee. Again, he seems just delighted with the little breadcrumb trail he’s throwing out. 

Sans’ socket pinches with rising annoyance. 

“Reaper! What did I tell you - did you not listen to me?”

“Sorry, but I was just dead tired .” The Sans - Reaper - affably winks. A part of Sans wants to laugh, but he stubbornly stomps down that betraying thought. “I just did not feel like climbing through the window…” 

“Climbing through the what?” 

“Just go change, please.” Geno deflates under both his brothers' intense scrutiny- both for various reasons. His datemate, unaware of the other’s blight, offers a doting smile. 

“Yes, dear.~”

Navigating with an unnatural swiftness, Reaper enters the house. Sans’s bones rattle at the chilling path the skeleton leaves in his wake, the numbing aura staggeringly rivals the previously thought cool draft that had breached the house. 

Sans catches the way the hems of the other’s shabby cloak sways as he turns toward the stairs, revealing an empty space where feet very well should be. 

So he floats . What’s the point of his wings if he’s not gonna use them? Sans never thought he'd meet another monster lazier than him - well, this was an alternative version of himself… yeah, he could see himself doing just that, to be fair. Touché, other Sans. 

Reaper glides up the stairs and into Geno’s room with too much-practiced familiarity for Sans’ taste, leaving Geno to fend for himself.

Sans looks over at Geno, whose eyelight is already fixed on him. It's like he expected his judgemental glare. 

“Geno!” Papyrus hisses, beating Sans to the punch as he squats down beside his short brothers. It takes Sans a moment to realize they’ve inadvertently made a tight little huddle. “Why would you make your partner climb in through your window?! That is very unromantic of you; it should be the other way around!” 

“Uh…” 

“Maybe you should check on the spaghetti, bro.” Sans chimes in, pulling Papyrus from his scolding-turned-dating tangent. “Pretty sure it’s been a hot minute .”

Papyrus jolts, craning his neck in the direction of the kitchen. There was a faint whiff of burnt tomato sauce permeating from the doorway. 

“Sans, I swear if you are making a pun about our kitchen currently being on fire, I am disowning you!”

He doesn’t spare his brothers another moment before making a mad dash to the kitchen. 

Geno, now alone and defenseless, reluctantly turns to face Sans. The other’s judgemental glare already probing into him. 

“...Sans?” He eventually tests timidly. 

“...”

“Are you mad at me?”

“...”

“P-Please say something!”

“Geno, are you kidding me?!” Sans snaps unexpectedly, his twin flinching back in genuine shock. “You just had to fuck yourself?” 

“Don’t fucking phrase it like that, oh my god!” Geno blabbers, his face glowing unabashedly despite himself. 

Sans can feel his socket twitching. He didn’t fucking deny it. 

“Sorry, let me rephrase: you’re diddling yourself?!” 

“Sans, shut the fuck up! ”

“What the fuck. Like, actually, what the fuck is this?”

“It’s a long story…”

“Ooh, now we got a neat icebreaker for dinner! Can’t wait to hear it.”

“Sans!”

“Fuckkk…” Sans whines. He wanders the room in a shoddy circle, sockets pitched shut. He stops in the middle of the room to release a long tired exhale from the depths of his soul, keeping Geno in an uneasy air of suspense. 

“Welp,” Sans deduces with a shrug. “Can’t make it through this sober.” 

“Sans, wait—”

He disappears, jumping to who knows where.

Geno deflates. Well… he honestly expected that to go a lot worse. A small silver lining. 

“When he gets home, I’ll make sure to give him a stern talking to.”  

Geno looks up from his groveling to see Papyrus exit the kitchen with a disapproving huff. “And do not worry, the spaghetti is fine - some sauce got on the burner.”

“You don’t judge me, right Paps?” Geno can’t help but ask, cringing at the desperation in his words. 

Papyrus pauses, anxiously looking anywhere but him. Geno almost bursts into tears right then and there. 

“I love you brother.” Papyrus begins, choosing his words carefully. He rests his hands on Geno’s saggy shoulders, supporting him with grounding assurance. “Even though I may not fully understand, I will support you no matter what! Self-love is important after all…”

“…hehe, that was good.” Geno snorts, his worries forgotten - even for just a moment.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Papyrus retorts, failing to hide his quivering smile. 

“Tada!” A voice declares at the top of the stairs, though it's easy to make out the forced bravado. 

Both skeletons look up to see Geno’s datemate, the other having changed out of his… whatever it was that he was previously wearing. 

The ratty thing one might assume to have been a robe had been swapped out for a much more revealing dress. Not that it was anything provocative, no. Simply, compared to the skeleton’s previously questionable wardrobe choice, it took a moment of getting used to. 

The long bubble mesh sleeves interestingly complemented the dark short dress, in a cute endearing way. It reminded Papyrus of the very adorable jellyfish that bobbled near the surface of the ocean shores, clueless to the pushes and pulls of the constantly churning waves. The monster’s large wings unintentionally add to that bubbly theme going for him. 

Complimenting the other Sans’ simple assemblage was the pendant that drew the eye’s attention from the outfit’s fairly saturated palette, particularly the soft blue hue that seemed to shift in and out. 

Papyrus may have mistaken this identical-looking skeleton for his brother - had the overgrown wings and empty sockets not been a dead giveaway.

And besides, Sans was not the type to go all out fashion-wise. While Sans claimed that dressing up was just too much effort for his lazy self - or that his iconic hoodie and shorts had fused into his bones by now - Papyrus chalked it up to his emotionally constipated brother being too embarrassed to indulge himself in dressing more effeminate. 

Coward.

Geno’s datemate would have done an excellent job making up for his less-than-stellar first impression, had Papyrus not noticed the skeleton relying a bit too heavily on the railings for support, his legs visibly trembling in the unfamiliar bulky heels weighing him down. 

“You look good,” Geno speaks up beside him, a sense of awe in his words. Sparing his brother a side glance, Geno’s eyelight is completely transfixed on the bedecked skeleton.

Wowie, he sure is smitten. 

At those words, that timid smile on the winged skeleton explodes into a generous grin. He eagerly takes a confident step… only to fall down the stairs on the next step - his heeled foot having twisting at an awful angle. He’s only narrowly saved from meeting the last step face-first by a quick-footed Papyrus.

Not to sound rude, but this other Sans is— er, Geno’s datemate, is rather… awkward - on his feet, he means; it wouldn’t be a stretch to compare his clumsiness to that of a newborn fawn. With the way he walks, you’d think he just learned how to walk a few days ago. 

Geno’s datemate is all too calm as Papyrus fusses over him. He can feel Geno’s presence behind him, a shaking relieved breath finally breaking the tenseness in the room. 

“Sorry,” The short skeleton abashedly confesses as Papyrus continues to poke and prod. “Still getting used to walking…”

“You have nothing to apologize for! What is it with Sanses being so dismissive of their own well-being?” Papyrus tuts as he pulls the flustered skeleton to his feet. “I hope this isn’t a recurring issue other me’s have to deal with.” 

Geno’s datemate falls silent for a moment, before responding with a despondent hum.

Helping the monster to his feet, Papyrus had to do a double take. Geno’s datemate was… shorter than he remembered. Even with the platforming provided by the heels, he was now just about a good inch taller than Geno. 

“How did you shrink so much?” Papyrus asks, mainly to himself. 

“What do you mean?” The winged skeleton chirps back just as curiously. 

Before Papyrus can get another word in, the monster pushes off him, the little propelled boost helping him stay on his feet long enough as he wobbles over to Geno; the bulky heels of his precariously carry him over the short distance. Geno holds his arms out expectantly with exasperated fondness as his datemate plops himself into them with the self-assurance of a free-falling cat - his heavy wings nearly knocking the two off their feet in the process.

The two skeletons excitedly clasp hands - more for the sake of keeping the wobbly monster on his two feet - restlessly gushing hushed whispers to one another, their cheekbones quickly flushing a soft blue hue. 

While he can’t see Geno’s datemate face from where he stands, Papyrus can see Geno bright as day smiling adoringly at the other babbling away. 

It was nice seeing Geno happy. It’s been a while since his smiles looked this genuine.

He’s glad he found someone that brings that out in him.

Although most of their words are faint - hidden under soft, reserved whispers meant for just the two of them - Papyrus is pretty sure he can still make out scraps of their scattered conversation. 

“You don’t have to wear them if they’re giving you trouble.” 

“But I want to!” The winged skeleton objects unabashedly, seeming to have forgotten Papyrus’ presence for the moment, his attention solely rooted on Geno. “You got them for me.”

“Only because you asked…” 

“I was just looking at them.” He huffs smugly. “That is different.”

The two devolve into incessant giggles, at which point Papyrus silently excuses himself to the kitchen to begin bringing out dinner. He’s just about finished stirring the spaghetti together one last time - and topping a healthy leaf of parsley for aesthetic purposes - when he hears a sudden yelp from the living room. Shortly after, the squabbling of two very familiar voices begin steadily rising in volume. 

Coming out of the kitchen with stirred spaghetti in hand, he walks in on Geno and Sans loudly arguing. 

Well, moreso Geno berating Sans while the others sways unbothered in place. He’s hiding something behind his back. And while he looks almost eager to reveal it, he seems to be waiting for something. 

Geno’s datemate looks on beside Geno with a lost expression, or at least that’s what Papyrus is assuming - no eyelights and all. 

He sets the pot of spaghetti on the table before coming over to three skeletons. The taller skeleton opens his mouth just as he catches a whiff of Sans’ clothes. Despite having just washed his brother's ‘formal’ attire just earlier that day for tonight’s dinner, they now reeked of grease and smoke and...

Papyrus’s face scrunches in as much disappointment as a skeleton’s facial structure allows for. 

“Sans!” He shouts, startling Geno and Sans from their petty squabble - the two caught off by Papyrus’ real frustration. “Did you seriously go to Grillby’s to drink , with Geno’s datemate coming over?!”

Sans, for his part, genuinely looks remorseful. But then, remembering something, that dumb smile of his etches back on his drunken face. He reveals the wine bottle hidden behind his back. It was one of Grillby’s aged wines - red Crab Apple. A rich delicacy in the Underground monsters only ever sought from the fire elemental for special occasions. 

Papyrus freezes, slack-jawed for a good minute before he recollects himself.

“Oh, I knew I was forgetting something,” His anger completely dissipates to the betrayed bewilderment of Geno. “Thank you, Sans!”

Sans snorts. Were he sober, it would surely come out as a mad cackle. “Let’s dig in,” His eyelights lock in on Geno as he pours himself a generous glass at his seat, the murk red wine nearly overflowing. Sans cuts himself off just as it grazes the glass’ rim. Even when he raises the glass in a mocking toast, he doesn’t spill a drop despite his blatant carelessness.

“The night’s still young!”

Geno groans miserably into his hands.

Chapter Text

“Sorry,” Reaper apologizes for the umpteenth time. 

“It’s fine,” Geno patiently soothes the god once more, rolling out another paper towel from the depleting roll to run under the bathroom sink. “I should have told you sooner.”

The red sauce had been scrubbed clean from the dresses’ frizzy furls - for the most part, at least. There was still a faint, stained outline if you looked at it hard enough; that and the subtle whiff of tomato sauce still lingering on the aggressively scrubbed dress. 

Looks like they’ll have to throw it in the wash later. Or was this one of those dresses that had to be hand-washed? Geno was really starting to regret cutting off the tags. 

“What else should I know then?” Reaper asks, pulling Geno away from his furious scrubbing. “About… ‘dining etiquette’?”

“Depends?” Geno shrugs, dabbing the moist paper towel with a greedy pump of hand soap. “I mean, technically you can eat everything with a fork - well, except like soup and cereal, and apparently other human cultures use different utensils - but don’t worry about that for now!”

The god’s stressed pout softens. Good. Crisis averted for now. 

“Some foods are fine to eat with just your hands. Like a burger, remember?” Reaper nods, although he looks just as confused as before. 

Shit, why was this so hard to explain. “Uh, think of it like this: foods that look too messy to eat, you’re gonna wanna use utensils.”

Reaper blinks, running the phrase through his head for a moment.

“Okay.” He eventually responds. And he looked pretty assured by that answer. Let’s go, small victories!

“Aight,” Geno tosses the used paper towel into the bathroom’s bin. “Think that’s most of it.”

Reaper hums. He’s staring at himself in the mirror, twiddling with his pulsing pendant.  

Gingerly, Geno reaches out to Reaper's free hand. Thinner, more worn-down phalanges brush against the impeccable hands of the god. Even in this weaker form, it was free from any mortal imperfections. 

“Come on,” Geno beckons warmly, leading the other toward the door. “We’ve been in here long enough, let’s head back before they start thinking too much for their own good.” 

Reaper doesn’t follow. He remains rooted in place. 

Geno buckles at the sudden pull. “Reaps?” He looks back with concern. 

“I think I am making them uncomfortable,” Reaper confesses, sockets staring dejectedly at the ground. “I,” His mouth scrunches up in uncertainty. “I don’t think this was a good idea…” 

“Hey,” Geno marches back over to Reaper, taking the god’s other fidgeting hand into his. “Don’t talk like that, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He caresses the other monster’s cupped hands reassuringly. 

Reaper was never one to speak up his mind, both skeletons had been entirely blunt with one another since their initial meeting in the Save Screen - egregiously so; Geno couldn’t lie that he felt a little out of practice when trying to placate the immortal being. 

“Where’s this coming from?” Geno ultimately settles on. He immediately regrets his wording when the ethereal skeleton flashes him with a barely restrained glare.

“I am not naive.” Reaper chides frustratingly, his gaze quickly gluing back to the ground; the heavy sense of exasperation weighing on his words. “I don’t need to read their souls to know they are put off by my presence, whatever aspects of myself it may be. You noticed it too, haven't you?” He squints at Geno, accusingly, waiting for a response.

While Reaper’s attempts to keep a sturdy front is admirable, it is not lost on Geno that the facade is just barely holding back the subtle fear in the god’s honed features. 

Geno blinks, his gaze softening. Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

While Geno had initially kept their relationship a secret for this very reason - having to bypass the true nature of his own existence in this timeline had already been a headache in of itself - it had eventually dwindled down to his juvenile reluctance to open up to his friends and family about his personal life. 

Something Reaper was not privileged to. Not for quite some time now. 

Admittedly, Geno felt like an asshole for often overlooking Reaper’s personal plights. While he had a life for himself here on the Surface - always faced with new opportunities, able to change, choose, and pursue another path for himself - Reaper was just stuck, forced to carry out the same monotonous duties as long as there were souls to collect.

Reaper didn’t really have anyone but Geno to turn to. It made sense he’d want to avoid any conflicts that may lead to any ugly falling outs. 

He didn’t want to be alone again. 

Good going, Geno, still playing into the Sans stereotype of pushing things off until they blow up in everyone's faces. 

Good thing he’s quicker to catch it than most Sanses. 

“You’re right.” Geno concedes, the easy submission earns him a flutter of flustered blinks from Reaper. “If I had just explained everything to Paps and Sans sooner, things would be less awkward. Probably.”

He clears his throat as Reaper fixes him with a critical scowl. “Don’t worry about Sans, he’s just being a whiny bitch. And you know Papyrus, no matter the universe, he’d never turn his back on anyone, much less his own brother.” 

Geno squeezes the other’s hands with a comforting smile. “You know that, right?”

Reaper frowns, the lines of his mouth quivering. “I know, but I…” He breathes in shakily. “I don’t want your family to hate you because of me…” 

“They would never do that, Reaps.” He pulls the other in closer, bringing an arm around the god to close in the embrace. 

While Reaper was the one who primarily initiated physical affection between the two - usually small gestures like holding hands, sneaking in little pecks here and there, or even nudging his head onto Geno’s shoulder like a clingy cat; using any excuse to get some more contact with the other - it was Geno who performed more grandiose gestures.

The first time he pulled Reaper down to the ground with him for an impromptu cuddle pile, the god had frozen up, mind and body unsure how to proceed. Eventually, he’d learn to soak in every minute of it. Geno compared it to a stray becoming a needy little nuisance.

“Besides,” He laughs, although an ugly grimace tugs at his non-existent lips. “They’ve already had to deal with me at my worst.” Geno frowns at his recollection of his time in the isolating Save Screen. A mix of shame and pity for his desperate past self, but more so for those who were caught in the crossfire of his deteriorating state back then. 

He never really did say sorry to Reaper then, had he?

He feels Reaper deflate in his arms with a hefty sigh. “Sorry, I was… so excited for today, but now I just feel,” He digs his face into Geno’s scarf, muffling his words. “Overwhelmed.” 

“Hey, no need to apologize. You’re okay.” He pulls away, pressing a gentle kiss to the god’s tightened hands. The other finally smiles at the soft tickle it leaves, it sends a subtle shiver through him. 

Geno side-glances the ancient skeleton, a wicked smile creeping up his face. “You still a little rattled, or are you just happy to see me?” 

Reaper sputters violently as Geno winks, unabashed by his own flushed face. 

“Hey, I thought death was supposed to be chilled to the bone - since when did you become a furnace?”

“Stop…” The flustered monster hides his burning face against the front of Geno’s fuzzy cardigan with an anguished groan, although funnily enough, his words hold no real heat.

Geno chuckles, running his hands down the other’s shoulders reassuringly. He can practically feel the god soaking up his comforting touches. 

“No worries, you got some body to lean on right here.” He smiles at Reaper’s snort, the hot air tickling his sternum from where he’s pressed himself. “We’ll do some icebreakers, huh? Smooth things over?”

“Hmm,” The monster curtly nods. 

This time, when Geno leads him, Reaper follows. 

The god had taken off his platform-heels after much encouragement from Geno. Now he could walk around without the threat of cracking his skull every other step. 

Plus, now they’re on equal footing; would’ve made their little pep talk in the bathroom a little awkward if he had to keep standing on his pinky toes. 

When they finally emerge from the bathroom, Papyrus and Sans are waiting for them at the dinner table. 

Papyrus smiles at the two skeletons, an underlying look of worry lifting at their arrival. 

The taller monster has taken to donning a chef’s hat and mustache when bringing out dinner and still hasn’t taken it off. The fake mustache had been plastered haphazardly with tape, hanging askew. 

Sans, meanwhile, remains listlessly sprawled over the table - his words smothered into nonsensical murmurs from where his face was smushed against the table. His glass was unfortunately refilled, the wine bottles on the dining table noticeably emptier. 

The overpowering draft of toasted garlic and grease assaults Geno’s nose, dragging his attention to the tempting platter on the table. 

They’ve already made a dent in a good portion of the dishes tonight - save for the pie, still sitting in the fridge. As tonight's chief, Papyrus had tasked himself with setting everyone’s plates, each consisting of a hearty helping of spaghetti, two garlic knots per hour, and… a generous assortment of various veggie side dishes. 

Back when he and Sans finally convinced Papyrus to add garlic knots to tonight’s menu, the taller skeleton had initially agreed under one condition: all the other side dishes had to be healthy greens; nothing more, nothing less.

“Ugh,” Geno bemoans loudly as he sits, the heavy toll of his gluttonous deal finally setting in. The sautéed green beans and Brussels sprouts stare back at him menacingly. 

“Geno, stop scowling at your plate,” Papyrus scolds. He attempts to be discreet, keeping his words hushed, but Papyrus is, unfortunately, anything but subtle. “You’re embarrassing me in front of your datemate!” 

His moustache slips off right as he finishes his words, falling right into his own plate of overflowing spaghetti. 

Reaper bursts out laughing, his loud snort miraculously startling Sans awake - an impressive feat in of itself.

“Wha happen?” Sans slurs, a thick line of drool trailing from his teeth, leaving a wet glob on the tablecloth. 

Aside from Papyrus’ seething episode, dinner carries out rather cordially. Reaper has gotten fairly comfortable with his meal compared to earlier, the god having stared down at his plate with a prolonged sense of overwhelment as Papyrus eagerly explained the various dishes to their guest.

He has taken to finishing the rest of his spaghetti with the utmost care, prioritizing not letting any of the pasta and its staining sauce drop on his clothes again. And he wasn’t too picky with the various vegetables, as opposed to Geno and Sans. His face would take on many interesting expressions as he’d chew on each new green, his cheekbones generally bulging as he’d contemplate the taste and texture thoughtfully. 

Despite his own struggles swallowing down the pile of steamed broccoli Papyrus had drowned his plate in, Geno could at least appreciate Reaper’s cute expressions as the god finished the rest of his plate without any further trouble. 

That is, until all that remained were the tantalizing garlic knots. Reaper started down at them with a challenging look.

After a moment's hesitation, Reaper stabs his fork into the plump bun and munched on the greasy ball of dough, a surprised hum escapes his stuffed mouth at his initial nibble; a step above his earlier subdued impressions of the veggies he’d swallowed down. 

“You can use your hands for those,” Geno speaks up, taking a break from his plate. He hasn’t made a dent on the broccoli pile, primarily banking on Papyrus’ focus on being a good host to forget about his and Sans’ clearly uneaten plates. 

Reaper glares at him challengingly before stubbornly shoving the entire knot in his mouth. 

“Or not,” Geno shrugs sheepishly, taking a small sip of his glass. “Entirely up to you.”

“Hmph!” The god huffs, swallowing the knot with a loud gulp. 

“I’m glad at least someone’s finishing their plate.” Papyrus tsks. Sans and Geno unanimously slump down in shame, pointedly ignoring the untouched greens still plaguing their plates. 

The taller skeleton’s mood prompt lifts when he turns to Reaper. “I would offer seconds, but I’m sure you wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite before we have dessert - I worked really hard on it!” 

Reaper, seconds away from inhaling his next garlic knot, pauses mid-bite, is caught off guard by Papyrus’ words. He ducks his head momentarily, sockets shying away from Papyrus.

“I look forward to trying it, Papyrus.” Reaper ultimately settles, smiling down at the wine glass he had taken to nursing in his fidgeting hands. His words are strangely strained. 

Although the ancient skeleton had sampled an alarming portion of Grillby’s wine, presumably more alcohol than Sans had this entire night, he appeared to be the most sober in the room. 

Guess gods have a higher alcohol tolerance. Made sense. 

But that wasn’t the reason for his sudden shyness anytime he was thrown into an ad-lib conversation with Papyrus and Sans… well, mostly Papyrus. 

Geno and Reaper were hitting it off pretty well, their little squabbles and banter earning them non-inconspicuous gushing from Papyrus and groggy eyerolls from Sans. But anytime Papyrus would jump into the conversation, Reaper would abruptly grow reserved. He seemed… conscious of his words, always seeming to be stepping over eggshells as he’d answer or play along with the chatty skeleton. 

Their conversations were pleasant but rather short. 

As for Sans and Reaper? 

The two haven’t actually spoken much tonight. Whenever Sans wasn’t fighting through the pangs of his intoxicated delirium, he’d simply be watching Reaper from across the table with disinterest - or at least the front he put on. 

Reaper was, understandably, a bit anxious under Sans’ judging glare. Yet he did his best to try and ignore the other’s obvious attention. 

And dinner would have probably gone smoothly for the remainder of the night, had Papyrus not spoken up.

“Sans, don’t you have something to contribute to the conversation?” Papyrus squints, startling the monster out of his current drunken daze. 

“Huh?” He mumbles curiously, failing to suppress a sudden hiccup. 

“You’ve been sulking in your seat all dinner, speak up, won’t you? Why don’t you tell us about your day?” Papyrus suggests, futilely throwing a metaphorical bone in Sans’ way. 

The taller skeleton’s pondering is cut off with him nearly jumping up in his seat, Papyrus’ exasperation melting away to replace it with a beaming grin. Oh no, that’s the face Papyrus makes when he’s come up with a “self-proclaimed ingenious idea” - as he’d coined it. 

“Oh, tell Reaper about your recent job endeavors! I must admit, it is much more… bizarre than Sans’ usual schemes.” 

“Eh, not really.” Sans shrugs, reclining back on his chair. “It’s just a side hustle right now. But boy, let me tell you, I hit gold finding that shirt press - sure to make things move much smoother, I can tell you that.” He winks cheekily. 

Reaper’s face scrunches in confusion. Glancing back at Geno only gets him an exasperated eye roll. 

Leave it to Sans to vaguely answer a question that leads to more questions he can’t bother elaborating. 

“But yeah,” The sleazy skeleton shrugs again, resting his upper weight back on the table. “Nothing too crazy.”

Papyrus frowns. “Really? That’s it?”

Figuring that that was the end of Sans’ social battery for tonight, Geno relaxes, his anxiety settling down. However, as he’s halfheartedly listening to Papyrus’ disappointed nagging, an unsettling feeling of dread begins to creep up his spine - so much so that he has to put down his fork in an attempt to recollect himself. 

Chancing a glance back at Sans unfortunately confirms his growing suspicions. 

Sans was staring right at him, a sinister smile slowly stretching across his face. As if having read his twin's mind, his eyelights flicker over to Reaper, the god blissfully ignorant of the tumultuous battle between the two skeletons. 

Papyrus had unintentionally laid the trap out for them, and Sans was going in for the kill.

Sans, you motherfucker…

“What about you?” Sans drawls, innocently resting his hands on his bony chin, feigning ignorance to Geno’s flaring eyelight burning into the side of his skull. “Whatcha you do for a living, Reaper ?”

For his part, Reaper simply hums, looking back down at his plate. He chews the last of his garlic knot thoughtfully.  

“I am entrusted to reap the souls of the dead and bring them to their final destination - whatever it may be…”

Papyrus frowns with a sour tsk. “You’re a salesman?” 

Sans snorts, his leer easily slipping away. “Nah, he’s the Grim Reaper, Paps.” 

“Oh, my mistake.” Papyrus flushed abashedly, although he admittedly seemed relieved at the clarification.

Sans chuckles, turning his attention back to Reaper. Papyrus’ comment seems to have smoothed out most of the skeleton’s prior hostility. He looked to be in good humor for now, although there still seemed to be an edge to his words.

“Surprised with your bluntness, honestly. You’ve been learning from Geno?”

“Surely my name gave it away.” Reaper challenges humorously. His sudden emboldenment catches both skeletons off guard. 

Especially Geno because, hello? Where was this coming from?

Sans rubs his skull. “True, thought I was still kinda holding on to the hope that you were just really into the goth scene.”

“I will admit, I do quite like the fashion.”

“Uh, yeah.” Sans coughs, sparing a knowing look toward Geno. “So I’ve heard.”

Geno hides his burning face in his hands.

“How did you two meet exactly?” Papyrus pipes in, thankfully changing the subject. “Was it exclusive in your timeline, Geno?”

“Uh,” Geno shifts in his seat. “Nah, we met in the Save Screen.”

“Oh?” Papyrus puzzles over his words. “But I thought only you could bring others to the Save Screen. So how did?…” 

“Paps, he’s Death . Doesn’t exactly need an invitation to be let in or anything.” Sans smugly sips some more of his wine. “Pretty sure that’s like, his thing.”

Reaper simply nods, his mouth curled into a light smile. “That is true…” 

“If you really are the Grim Reaper, does that mean we’ve met before?” 

The cheery mood abruptly extinguishes into an uncomfortable hush. This time, it’s Sans and Geno who are at fault for the mood change - none of the twins seeming to like what their brother was implying. 

Reaper tilts his head to the side, his absent-minded phalanges play with his glowing pendant.

“You know,” Papyrus pushes casually. “All those times that I’ve died before?”

Sans audibly winces, preemptively reaching to refill his glass. 

“Jeez, Papyrus, please stop being so nonchalant about your death.” Geno smiles nervously, 

Papyrus haughtily huffs. “It’s not like I remember it.” 

“We haven’t, actually,” The god speaks up. The break in tension is immediately followed by a groan from Sans, who downs his glass. 

Looks like they weren't skipping this conversation after all…

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” Papyrus pushes, his brow creasing in genuine confusion. “You said so yourself, you collect the souls of those who die, right? While not formally, you must’ve at least seen my soul - or however that works…” 

Reaper listens, his mouth twisting in thought, no doubt struggling to formulate his next words. 

“While it is true that you’ve died many times, yes,” The god glances over to the window, his sockets fluttering against the peeking sun. It’s lowered itself some since dinner started, now at the perfect angle to blind anyone gullible enough to look toward its position in the sky, perched up just behind the roof of the adjacent house. 

“I never had any reason to step foot in this timeline before.”

“Why’s that?” 

Reaper looks over at Geno. Despite all their time together, opening themselves up raw to each other at their lowest moments, Reaper has never really explained the specifics of his duties - mainly, the rules of the many, many worlds he visited on a daily basis. 

While Geno would always ask, the young scientist in him giddy for even a crumb of information about alternate universe the ancient skeleton would be willing to share with a mortal like him, Reaper didn’t really share the same enthusiasm; if anything, just bringing about the idea of the multiverse just seemed to drain the god’s already dampened mood. 

“It’s… difficult to explain.” He’d say when he was in the mood to answer, which was rarely. “They can be so needlessly complicated. There are good worlds, but it feels like there are much more bad ones - probably because I spend the most time there…”

Admittedly, Geno kind of feels like a dick for dogpiling onto the conversation. But hey, while they’re on the subject…

Hollow sockets narrow at him contemplatively for a moment, the staredown cut short by a soft chuff from the ethereal skeleton. 

The will of god’s isn’t really that strong, Geno has long since learned. 

“There are worlds that don’t require my visit. More specifically, timelines like this, where an entity can gain the power to Reset.” 

Despite his drunken state, Sans is somewhat sober enough to latch onto Reaper’s words. He tentatively leans forward, with a healthy amount of skepticism, of course. 

“When a soul dies in this kind of timeline, they are sent to this…” Reaper stops to think before looking over at the others with pleading sockets. “What do you mortals call it?”

“Purgatory?” Sans chimes inquisitively, the curious physicist in him slowly getting more and more engrossed. 

Reaper nods. “An unreachable plane for mortals where all souls reside indefinitely until a Reset occurs, sounds about right.”

“That makes sense.” Sans ponders, whipping at his mouth with the end of his sleeve. “We’re just going to a temporary place before we’re thrown back into our old bodies - new bodies?”

“Just imagine how much harder my job would be if I had to keep returning to the same world were a Reset to occur daily.” Reaper sinks into his seat, the thought alone seemingly sending the god into a mental spiral. “I suppose it’s a small blessing. For me at least.” He nervously glances at the monsters, specifically Sans.

Sans chuckles at the god’s antics, although his wandering eyelights betray his wandering mind. “But that’s just our world, right?” Sans settles, mouth drawing into a forlorn frown. “Other worlds don’t have to deal with Reset.”

“Yes.” Reaper concedes grimly. “But, in my opinion, worlds such as these tend to have better endings. It’s a nice change of pace.”

The god’s words of reassurance leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and no doubt everyone else’s as the room falls back into an uncomfortable silence. 

Things could have been worse. Were things not bad enough for them already?

“Wait, if you don’t go to worlds with Resets, then how did you meet Geno?”

And of course, leave it to Papyrus to change the subject once again. 

Surprisingly, Reaper perks up at this question, almost excitedly. This might be the most animated Sans has seen the ethereal skeleton be all day. 

In contrast, Geno ashamedly slumps into his seat. 

“One day,” The god narrates, his voice laced with reminiscing nostalgia. “I heard a strange soul call out to me from somewhere… unfamiliar. It took quite some time to find, I must admit. But when I finally did, I found a rather… uncooperative and a still very much alive monster.”

“And we hit it off really well, the end!” Geno butts in, cutting the god off. “Hey, Paps! I think it’s about time for dessert.”

“...no we didn’t? You punched me in the face.”

At that, Sans bursts out into a hearty laugh, the sudden outburst makes his sides pinch painfully.  

“Man,” Sans heaves, his crown hitting the table as he sags in on himself. “You sure got a way with picking up chicks , Geno.” He raises his head, winking at the fuming skeleton. “Please teach me your ways.” 

“Geno is, how do you mortals say it,” Reaper taps his chin with a teasing smile. “Quite the flirt.”

“Ooh, really?” Sans leans forward with a smug smile. “Please, do share.”

“Shut up, Sans!”

Papyrus pardons himself as the petty squabbling steadily increases in volume. Better nip this in the butt now before bone attacks start flying everywhere. And he just tidied up the place too… 

He quickly pulls out the pie, caked with a ridiculous layer of whipped cream, now ready to be served, and dashes out of the kitchen.

But not before he stops to grab the sealed tub of ice cream he’d hidden all the way in the back of the freezer, away from certain greedy monsters.

Papyrus thankfully returns to a dining room free of any stray bone attacks sporadically nailed into the walls, though they are still very much at each other’s throats. Poor Reaper watches on from his seat with mild amusement.

The twins calm themselves easily when Papyrus sets to preparing dessert, dishing out each plate of pie with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side. 

Papyrus makes sure to give Reaper a slightly larger portion; he was the guest after all! 

After some encouragement from Geno, the god curiously picks up the offered spoon - this didn’t look like soup to him - before scooping up a little bit of each upon the utensil. Plopping it into his mouth, Papyrus is certain that if he had eyelights, they would surely be sparkling! 

The ethereal skeleton takes his time savoring his sugary plate, as opposed to Geno and Sans, who shoveled the pie like the slobs that they were. It was a breath of fresh air to have someone appreciate his meals with some level of civility for once. 

“Would you like another slice, Reaper?” Papyrus asks, slowly pulling the pie tin away from a certain pair of inching hands.

Reaper swallows, melted ice cream dabbed over his contemplative face. “No, I’m good.” He answers shyly, hollow sockets staring down at his licked-clean spoon listlessly. 

“Well, the next time I create a culinary masterpiece, I’d love for you to come over.” Papyrus grins. “You’re always welcome here, Reaper!”

Reaper stares, blinking dumbly at the taller skeleton, earning himself a lighthearted snicker from Sans - the lazy monster having finally cleaned his plate and deciding to take a short little nap on the table right then and now. Reaper ducks his head, trying his best to hide his sad smile. 

“...thanks, Papyrus.”

His words go unnoticed, however, as Papyrus is too busy wrangling his snoring brother into his arms. The taller skeleton sheepishly excuses himself as he carries the comatose monster upstairs. 

Reaper watches them go, a long-since resigned yearning just barely readable in his bagged sockets. 

Geno’s hand reaches for the other’s from under the table, his phalanges gently cupping the cold hands feebly clenching the furled ends of his doleful dress. He feels the subtly shaking hands slowly relax, finally freeing the bundled dress from its tense grip. Whatever melancholic thoughts had been swarming within the immortal skeleton’s skull seem to settle themselves, and Geno feels himself smiling when the god’s smooth phalanges instinctively interlock with his. 

Dinner, Geno would later tell Papyrus - the other eagerly seeking his input - turned out to be nice, after all. 

Chapter Text

Four years.

Today marked the fourth year since monsters were freed from the Underground; four years since monsters arrived on the Surface. 

Sans stares down at his phone, his groggy mind still processing the reminder on the digital calendar. 

Four years. And they were still here. 

Boy… the year sure flew by. 

Monsterkind celebrated this day as an unofficial holiday, although it mainly served as an excuse to have a few extra days off from school and work or any other menial obligations and simply unwind for a bit. Monsters who had moved on far past Newer Home would use it as a chance to return and visit family and friends; it served as a chance for everyone to reminisce on memories from the past and share new ones made since the last reunion.

Their own yearly little tradition was a simple picnic situated south along the base of Mount Ebott - a little plain clearing parted by the vast woodlands - the little hill created a perfect view of the mountain from all the way down below. They’d stay out there in that peaceful little pocket of nature until the sun finally set, and the moon would take its place, scattering an ever-expanding valley of stars and cosmic mysteries into the sky for them to search through. Peeking into his telescope during this time might be Sans’ favorite part of this particular day.

But for now, it was time for breakfast. Hungry monsters need to eat for the big day ahead of them. 

Plus, it so happened to be Papy-cakes Day. 

With a weighty groan, Sans slumps out of bed. He rubs at his sockets as he stumbles toward his rarely visited closet. This was one of the few rare instances where Sans ventured wearing something other than his iconic blue hoodie and shorts - it was a special occasion after all.  

After much prolonged contemplation and deliberation, Sans ultimately settles for a teal hoodie and a pair of jeans that had been tucked into the far back of his closet. He checks himself in the mirror before heading downstairs, a new sense of confidence permeating him and his new fit.  

He’s greeted with a set breakfast table. A stacked plate of steaming, tantalizing Papy-cakes beckons him to the table - not that he would have refused the advances. 

Papyrus eventually returns from the kitchen, his messy chef’s hat and apron probably tossed away into the wash by now. The tall skeleton was concentrating on balancing the three hot coffee mugs in his hands. 

“Ah, good morning, Sans! You’re finally up!” Papyrus carefully sets the cups down at each seat. “You’re looking nice today.”

“Thanks, I worked real hard putting it all together.”

“I can imagine.” Papyrus humors as he goes to sit, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Freshly squeezed orange juice made by Undyne from the other day. There were large chunks of orange bits still swimming around - skin and pulp alike. 

“Geno not up yet?” Sans asks, jamming his fork into as many Papy-cakes as he can stack on his plate. 

“No, he’s up.” Papyrus passes the maple syrup closer to Sans. “He’s outside right now. We should probably call him in.”

“Hold on, lemme get a few more…”

“Sans, leave some for everyone else!” He scrutinizes the shorter monster’s slowly growing tower, disgusted at his shameless greed.

“Hey, Geno should know better by now. If there’s no more Papy-cakes, then that’s on him.”

“Nope, I am cutting you off until everyone is at the table!” Papyrus stands up, swiping the remaining plate of Papy-cakes over his head. Sans grumbles, looking forlornly at his “measly” stack. 

“Fine…” Sans sluggishly pushes himself out his seat. He takes a swig of his coffee before heading to the door. 

Stepping outside, he takes a moment to indulge in the sun’s comforting warmth beaming down, the gentle morning winds tickling his cheekbones. His closed sockets flicker open as the droning buzz of a fat bumblebee flies past his face. 

The empty dirt-filled flowerpots that had been tucked away in the porch’s corner were now actually housing flowers. Most of the names completely escaped him, but they sure did their job prettying up the place, and they brought in a lot of bees. 

It was something Geno and Reaper had picked up after introducing the god to Asgore, the immortal skeleton taking quite an interest in the goat monster’s green thumb, who was more than happy to indulge. Geno just decided to go along with the god’s new hobby.

It was… nice to see.

However, the coyish giggling and gushing of the two skeletons lounging on the porch’s front steps was anything but. 

Yeesh, they’re more sappy than Alphys and Undyne. And those two can get bad … 

“Alright, lovebirds,” Sans drawls teasingly, causing both monsters to jump - Geno nearly falling back on the low steps. “I don’t mean to ruin your fun, but Paps sent me over to getcha. There’s Papy-cakes that need to be eaten, and I will not stand for any more delays.”

Geno's embarrassment twists into an ugly scowl, but his tugged glower quickly morphs into a curious look as his eyelight scans Sans’ attire. 

“Daring today, aren’t we?” He ultimately snickers, his sockets creasing humorously. 

“You know it.” Sans shifts his gaze to the other skeleton quietly watching the scene play out with a bemused smile. The god was wearing his iconic cloak - he must have just gotten off his shift. “Sup, Reaper. You still coming with us to the picnic?”

This time Reaper also startles at Sans’ words, without almost falling down the stairs. His great wings fluttering in thought. “If I’m not a bother,” He finally answers, his hollow sockets meeting Sans’. The blemished eyebags shadowing the god’s sockets seem a little lighter than before.

“Of course not,” Sans scoffs, playfully rolling his eyelights. “Papyrus’ basically indoctrinated you into the family. You’re one of us now, whether you like it or not, bud.”

“See, I told you,” Geno whispers, leaning closer to the god. “You worry too much.”

“Ahem,” Geno frowns at Sans for once again halting his advances. Sans doesn’t seem to notice - or if he does, he doesn’t seem to give a fuck. “If you two could hurry along now, I need to get back to shoving Papy-cakes down my gullet before our little outing today.”

Geno's mouth drops, his eyelight quivers at the other’s stabbing words. “Shoving down— Sans! How many Papy-cakes did you eat already?!”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, loverboy?”

“Sans, you fat fuck…”

Reaper slaps a hand over his mouth, the bickering monsters none the wiser to the ancient skeleton’s contorting face. Were he mortal, he would surely have passed from suffocation - he’s seen plenty kick the bucket as so.

The three skeletons trail inside, the god cackling at the escalating squabbling of the twins. Papyrus is waiting for them at the table, watching his brothers banter with a schooled expression. His face lights up, however, when Reaper shimmies to his seat, already piling his plate for the overwhelmed god.

The Papy-cakes, Reaper would tell a bated-breath chef, were really good.