Chapter Text
Sans adjusted the wood base of his homemade telescope. The night was sharply cold - almost cold enough to make his bones ache. It was the kind of night when the sky was open and clear, and innumerable stars were visible from the comfort of his own backyard.
Something was stuck. The base wouldn’t rotate properly.
Sans shrugged and sat back down. Everything, other than the lenses, was made out of scrap pieces he’d found around, so it wasn’t a huge hit to his ego that something wasn’t working right. He thought about moving back inside and settling into his butt dent on the couch. He could watch something on TV, but it was too good a night and moving seemed like a lot of work.
The last light on in the house behind him switched off. Papyrus was either sleeping, or whatever he was up to he didn’t need a light for.
Sans tried to get the base to rotate from where he was sitting. His magic almost tipped the whole junk-scope over, but when he got over there and shoved it back upright, something snapped free and everything worked again.
Maybe he should’ve just given it a kick to start with.
Clouds were rolling across the sky from the horizon. Jupiter was in a clear portion of the sky, so Sans used it to check and make sure he hadn’t damaged anything knocking his telescope around.
He tracked the planet until clouds blocked his view entirely. He stepped back. Half the sky was black, now. Sans watched the rest of the stars disappear, wondering if it was going to snow on him. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. He wanted to go inside, but suddenly found it difficult to look away.
Dark and darker. Were those clouds? Sans thought his eyes had adjusted, but when he looked down at his own hand, he couldn’t see the ground under his sneakers. His hand was white bone shining in nothingness. He rubbed his eye sockets. Dread came over him like a heavy blanket, smothering.
He looked back up at the sky. It was empty. The stars had cleared out, and it was black space from end to end.
Sans tried to say something, but the darkness swallowed his words.
He stepped back. Someone was watching him. He heard a noise – an almost painful static hissing in his skull – and it cut off, abruptly. He stepped back again and his leg hit his lawn chair. He could see the grass and the patio and when he looked up, the sky was filled with stars. He couldn’t find a single cloud.
“heh.” His own voice startled him. "checking up on me, huh?"
He heard a car come down the gravel driveway at the front of the house.
"stop by sometime. grilbz’ll pour you a drink and papyrus’ll make dinner. you’d be proud of him.” Sans went over to his telescope and found Jupiter again. He tried to make out specific details, letting that calm him down. The lens went dark and he heard static, distant. He thought he felt a cold hand on his shoulder, so cold it seeped every last bit of warmth and energy out of his bones.
Then, that passed, too. He was shuddering over his telescope, trying to stay on his feet. The back door opened, and the space around him was almost immediately warm and light.
“…having fun?” Grillby asked.
“it’s a party,” Sans said, careful.
Grillby walked over. He saw something in Sans’ expression, and flickered in concern. “…cold?”
“not anymore.” Sans winked at him. Grillby didn’t look any less worried. "eh, think my joints don’t like the cold anymore."
"…you’re shaking,“ Grillby realized. "Come inside.” He took Sans’ arm.
Sans was unceremoniously pulled back inside the house. The normal mess of their living room - toys scattered around where Papyrus hadn’t had a minute to clean them up, a children’s book folded open on the coffee table, chisp crumbs on the arm of the couch by where Sans usually sat - grounded him.
“You were just cold?” Grillby asked. He didn’t sound like he believed it.
“they call that the cold, hard truth,” Sans said, snickering. "but, nah." Grillby wasn’t buying what he was selling. "i guess i nodded off right on my feet. had a weird dream.”
“A dream?”
“yeah.” He shrugged. "scared the marrow outta me."
Grillby was still gripping his arm. He brought Sans over to the couch and set him down on it. "What was it?”
Sans considered his options. He went for the truth, which sounded fake enough to be a dream. "for a sec, i thought dad was hanging around." He shuddered, again, involuntarily. He should have picked something other than the truth.
"…that was scary?"
"uh. look, there’s a reason he doesn’t come by, grillbz. it’d be…something, if he showed up.”
He nodded.
“ok?”
“That’s the truth?”
Sans looked down at his lap. Right. It was close enough, he thought. And what was truth, really? Great. He was making excuses, again, and lying ‘cause it was easier. "maybe. mostly."
"…mostly."
"ok. maybe…halfway true.” He rubbed his head. He expected Grillby to be pissed, but he didn’t even move his hand off of Sans’ arm. “just don’t want to think about it. ask me again in, i dunno, a couple days.”
“Take your time.”
Sans was skeptical. He scanned Grillby’s expression, trying to read anger or irritation off of him. Grillby was leaning in, radiating concern over anything else. Sans must’ve been a real mess when he found him.
“don’t give me that or i’ll never get around to it,” Sans said, nudging him.
“Take a couple days.”
“smart.”
The curtains were open on the window facing out back, and the outside lights were all off. The blank black outside the window made Sans’ throat tighten. He turned away, suddenly interested in the rest of the room.
“A distraction,” Grillby said, when he noticed Sans’ unease. "……dinner? What do you want?"
"hey, i’m not picky,” Sans said, grateful. "but when you grill my steak, make sure it’s a hundred sixty degrees exactly on the inside. and mash the potatoes, don’t smash 'em."
"…chicken, then."
"heh.”
“No, really, what do you want?”
“no idea what we’ve got.”
Grillby stood up. “Let’s look.”
He was doing his best to distract him. That was cute. Sans got up and followed Grillby into the kitchen.