Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Sans gets called to the school to pick up the ambassador and their entourage, it’s not for what he expects. 

His boss had been kind enough to let him leave early for whatever “family emergency” was occuring at the kids’ school. Tori hadn’t been able to handle it, she was in class and had students to teach. Papyrus was off doing Papyrus things with Undyne and Alphys in tow (something about a midday training session down on the coast), Mettaton was on tour, Asgore—according to Tori—couldn’t be trusted, so somehow down the long list of makeshift relatives that loved the kiddos, Sans got dragged into the whole ordeal. 

Not that he minded much, he got to duck out of work early after his mid-morning lunch. He liked Frisk. He could take or leave Chara. 

He takes a shortcut and ends up outside the principal’s office face to face with Culprit One and Two. As he bends back into reality, popping into existence a few feet shy from where they’re sitting, Frisk jolts at his sudden appearance. Asriel, who is to the left of Chara, yelps. Chara’s blink is the only sign they’re unsettled. They smile—like him, they’re always smiling. 

“hiya,” he says with a lazy wave. 

“Whoa!” Asriel exclaims. 

“Greetings.” Chara dips their head. Ever formal, ever too polite to the point it’s unnerving. They curl their hands into fists on their knees and lick their lips in anticipation. Small tics that Sans has come to learn that they’re uneasy. Frisk, although passive, is much easier to read. They’ll always let someone know how they’re feeling. Asriel...well, the kid just cries a lot. 

Sans takes the three of them in and his eyes widen. His smile falters a fraction. 

“whoa. what happened to you two?”

Frisk has a tissue pressed to their nose and the beginnings of a black eye is starting to puff up. There are fresh scrapes on Chara’s knuckles and—Sans grimaces—dried blood. Asriel, on the other hand, looks just fine. A bit worried, but uninjured. 

Culprit One nudges their companion with their elbow. Culprit Two huffs and holds the tissue to Culprit One’s face so they can sign. 

‘B-I-L-L-Y pushed me off the swing.’ 

“That’s not all they did,” Chara points out. “He also called you a freak and a monster lover. So I rearranged his face.” 

‘I wish you wouldn’t.’ 

“I wish you would.” Chara’s voice is even and cold and Sans knows by the way they turn their head to give Frisk a pointed glare that it’s time to butt in. 

“hey now,” Sans warns. 

‘Sorry.’ 

“I’m not.” 

Sans heaves a sigh and faces Asriel. “and you?”

“Oh! I’m going to talk with Mr. Matthews,” Asriel says. 

“He is a key witness in my prosecution,” Chara remarks. 

‘He saw B-I-L-L-Y push me. His mom is really mad,’ Frisk signs. 

“Asriel is serving as a neutral party. Well, a not so neutral party I suppose. He is just as upset as I am,” Chara explains. “Billy’s mother is attempting to get me suspended for defending Frisk. My cause was just and suspension does not scare, so I am not too perturbed over the matter.” 

Sans almost wishes he was still at work. He doesn’t want to get involved. 

“Hm. Speak of the devil.” 

The door to the principal’s office swings open and out emerges a neatly dressed woman, a kid about Frisk’s age, and a man Sans assumes is the principal. 

“Asriel Dreemurr?” the man asks.

Asriel wrings his paws together and gives Culprit One and Two a nervous grin. Frisk returns the gesture with a reassuring thumbs up.

Asriel and and principal disappear into his office. 

Sans is...unsure what to make of the whole situation. Part of him wants to take the nearest shortcut and slip away from the responsibilities he was not expecting would be part of the job. He knows Tori is counting on him and he has promises to keep. He gets along with Frisk. He got to know the kid on their journey through the Underground. He supposes they became pretty good friends even. He knows their much closer to his far cooler brother, but there’s a way about how the kid sometimes slips their fingers into his hand and squeezes tight that he knows Frisk relies on him. For whatever reason, he steadies them. 

For whatever reason, he’s wrapped around their little finger.  

Chara…

Chara is a whole other ball game. 

Since leaving the Underground a few short months ago (allowing time for the initial hubbub of the monsters’ return to the surface to simmer, for politics and relations to smooth out, for peace talks and paperwork and monsters to settle down), Sans has taken time to learn what he can about Frisk and their...companion. Picking up on cues, noticing quirks and tics and signs of unhappiness. It took weeks to pick apart Chara’s unusually firm composure and unrelenting smile to be comfortable even approaching the kid. Still, he isn’t sure about it. 

But what can he do? The kid and their companion are attached at the hip. It’s rare that he ever gets the kid to himself nowadays, ever since he learned that the first fallen human and the Prince had returned shortly before they left for the Surface. 

The parallels between the kid and their companion are remarkably uncanny. Easily dismissed once spending time around them.

They still put Sans on edge. 

The woman’s voice draws Sans out of his thoughts. She’s got a tight hand on her son’s shoulders and he’s covered in dirt and has a rapidly bruising face and a fat lip to match. 

“Your parents should be ashamed of you,” she sneers. “If you were my kid I’d—” 

“whoa there, friend-o,” Sans says, stepping in and not so much breaking the tension but wrangling it into a lazy headlock. he shifts uncomfortably, throwing on his usual smile and sinking into a relaxed slump. “i think we’re all getting off on the wrong foot here. howsabout we try this one again, huh? i’m sans. sans the skeleton.” 

He offers a hand (and an awaiting whoopie cushion) to the woman who turns up a rapidly wrinkling nose at the sight of him. She pulls her son back as if the skeleton disgusts her. 

“welp, alrighty then. fine by me pal, you gotta do you.” He withdraws his hand, habitually returning it to his awaiting pockets and realizes he’s in his work uniform, not his usual hoodie. He throws a hand to the back of his neck and scrapes at his skull. He grins and gives her a nonchalant shrug as if he’s unbothered by the whole affair. 

He doesn’t want to get involved. 

Instead, he contemplates sneaking the whoopie cushion into her back pocket while she’s too busy going on by how awful it is her son has a swollen lip. The school might as well be on fire for the way the lady keeps yacking on about it.

Once again the door to the office opens and out come the principal and Asriel. The little boss monster is still wringing his paws. This time his eyes are glistening with tears. 

Sans knows that Chara’s posture is immaculate for a kid their age but at the sight of Asriel they go rigid as their spine is replaced by a steel rod. Their hands fly back to their knees. Frisk holds their tissue and grasps their hand before it can stiffen up completely.

“Chara Dreemurr,” the principal announces, motioning for the child to follow. Frisk begins to get up and makes to move after them but the principal snaps his fingers and points for the human to sit back down. 

“Just your sister, Miss Dreemurr.” 

Ouch, two for one. Maybe it’s the long hair (even though Frisk has unruly curls and Chara a well maintained bob, another place their similarities stop). Maybe it’s Frisk’s freckled splattered face, or that Chara’s all dimples and rosy cheeks and teeth. Maybe it’s Frisk’s overalls and bright yellow rain boots. Maybe it’s Chara’s poise. 

Maybe it’s intolerance. 

With their free hand, Frisk begins to rapidly sign to Chara. Sans catches bits of their one sided conversation as he gazes up at the principal. By their body language and the snippets of conversation, he pieces enough together to know that Chara is frightened.

What could make a kid so terrified of another human?  

Some questions are better left unanswered. 

Chara composes themselves—so quickly that if he blinked, he would have missed it. Their response is easy and simple: they gaze up at Mr. Matthews with vivid red eyes and paint a picture perfect smile on their face.  

“Just Chara will do.” 

Asriel gives Chara’s arm. “Um, excuse me Mr. Matthews, but Frisk is the same way. They’re not a boy, or a girl. They’re just Frisk.” 

Mr. Matthews snaps his fingers again. Chara stands. In one swift motion they smooth out the front of their sweater and fold their hands in front of them. 

Frisk’s hands fly as they sign to him. His teeth grind in his smile and he feels like one of Snowy’s puns. 

He’s going to get involved. 

“hiya. i’ll step right on in with the kid, thanks.” 

Mr. Matthews seems to finally notice that there’s been a skeleton in the room the entire time. His pale eyes roam over Sans up and down, then down and up again. Maybe it’s his gravelly voice. Maybe it’s his uniform. Maybe it’s his height. 

Maybe it’s ignorance. 

He calms the increasing cadence of his SOUL. Humans—outside of his human(s)—are weird. 

“sans. sans the skeleton.” He sticks his hand out and is denied yet again. Today it’s Humans 2, Sans 0. At this point he’s used to it. 

Mr. Matthews clears his throat. “Only parents are allowed. And how are you, er, affiliated with the...human...Dreemurr children?” 

At this point he’s in too deep to turn back now. He casts Frisk and Chara a look. An untrained eye would never be able to tell Chara is horrified by the exchange. Their smile doesn’t quite meet their eyes (it never does, not really). Frisk appears as nervous as ever and he knows they’re about to light up like a frickin Gyftmas tree.

“i’m their dad. can’t you tell? we look just alike.”

Aaaaaaannnndddd there it is. Frisk lets out a little gasp behind him and he bites back a chuckle. There’s a dull smack of Asriel facepalming. Mr. Matthews’s eyes narrow. 

“heheh, just joking,” he says. “looks like you can see right through me.” 

Asriel snorts. Frisk giggles. He can feel Chara’s eyes boring a hole through his cranium. 

“i’m, uh, actually one of their legal guardians. i signed the paperwork before these two started here. so...i’ll be coming in with chara.” Sans side-eyes the child. Their arms slacken a fraction of an inch. They’re relieved. 

Mr. Matthews, however, is annoyed. 

“Very well.” He gives Sans a curt nod and pivots, retreating back into his office. Sans nods his head and gives Chara an easy smile. 

“c’mon, bud.”

He ambles in after Mr. Matthews, throwing Frisk and Asriel a wink and the woman and her son a stare. He enters first, trying to put as much space between Chara and Mr. Matthews as he can. 

The meeting doesn’t last long. Sans fights against it for Tori’s sake, but Chara ends up suspended for a few days (a punishment that doesn’t make much sense to him, because what kid doesn’t like playing hooky anyway?). Frisk is told from now on they have to share the swing set. An indignant Asriel almost ends up getting suspended alongside of Chara. You win some, you lose some. Sometimes you gotta keep the peace. 

A foreboding thought. Some people are past helping. 

In the end he knows Chara will never admit it, but he can tell they appreciate it as he takes the three of them home for the day. The kid is a prickly, knotted thing wound in tight on themselves like a rubber band ready to snap. When they regard him, their barbs are a little less sharp.

Sans wonders if this is what it feels like to be an adult. 

He wants a refund. 

Chapter Text

Sans ends up driving them home. 

The ride from the school is uncharacteristically quiet. Frisk fidgets endlessly. Every once in a while, they sign to no one in particular. The anxiety building up within them is nearly tangible and Sans knows he's gonna have to deal with that later. Chara looks pointedly out the window. Asriel shifts uncomfortably in his seat and takes Frisk’s hand when they seem to need it most. 

Sans ends up offering his hand to Frisk’s as soon as the car is parked and the four of them are heading into the house. Frisk latches on and shakes their free hand.

‘Nervous.’ 

“what for?”

‘Don’t know. Chara’s upset too.’  

Chara catches wind of Frisk signs. “Stop. I am fine.” 

“Mom is going to ground us,” Asriel mumbles. 

Sans shrugs. Sure, there will be a stink for Chara getting suspended, but not for them sticking up for Frisk. “who knows.”

The kids decide to color until Toriel gets home. Asriel and Chara settle in immediately, the latter opting to ignore the open wounds on their knuckles. Sans takes notice of how the muscles in Chara's arms pull taut and the methodical way they pick each colored pencil out of the box. Their shoulders rest in a rigid line and are stiff with tension. Frisk is right, something is still eating at them. He hopes for everyone's sake that Chara's day turns around. The last thing Frisk needs while they're all wound up is one of Chara's tantrums. And, now that he thinks about it, they don't throw tantrums, per se. Instead, they go so quiet it's eerie, and they hurt so much it hurts everyone around them (Asriel, Asgore, Tori, Frisk in particular). A kind of hurt that steals your breath and shakes your foundation to the core. The kind of unrelenting hurt that makes their crimson eyes go stormy and you wish they would just say something, anything.  

They may be all barbed and prickly, but they still let Asriel slide in next to them so they can draw side by side. Sans snatches up the remote and clicks on a cartoon he knows Frisk likes. The kid barely touch the pile of crayons Asriel shares with them. Instead they sit close to the skeleton and hook a hand on his hoodie. They watch the TV but not really. They’re somewhere else. 

Sans knows when this happens, it’s time to intervene. 

“hey squirt. knock knock.”  

Frisk’s eyes drift up to his. Their fingers flex. 

“‘who’s there?’” he asks for them. “nobel.” 

‘Nobel who?’  

“nobel...that’s why i knocked.”

Frisk cracks a smile. Sans tries again.

“i sold my vacuum the other day.”

Frisk gives him an expectant look.

“all it was doing was collecting dust.”

Frisk grins and raise their hands. ‘What do you call a fish with no eyes?’ 

“heheh...huh?”

‘A F-S-H.’ 

Sans cracks up at that. “ok, that was pretty bad.” 

Coming from Sans, that’s high praise for a good joke. The two of them trade jokes back and forth for a few minutes until Frisk’s gaze doesn’t look nearly as distant. Once he can tell the kid has simmered some, Sans suggests they try coloring. He knows it always calms them down. Frisk gives him a nod and settles in besides Chara. 

Sans tries not to pay attention to how close they sit. In the time he’s spent watching the kids interact, there're very few people Chara will let invade their space in the way Frisk does. It is second nature to scoot over so Frisk can sit with their hip on their own. They pivot just enough to allow Frisk to lean in and see what they are drawing. 

Flowers. It’s always flowers. 

He peeks again.

Sans is...surprised to see it’s not flowers. A chill snakes up his spine and rattles each vertebrae. Habitually, Chara explains their drawing. They always seem to know what Frisk is thinking. 

“The Last Corridor. I blended the yellow and white to try and mimic the light streaming through the windows. We spent a lot of time here.”

Sans doesn't know why his bones ache. 

“Yeah!” Asriel chimes in. “It was one of our favorite places to play!”

He doesn’t catch Frisk’s signs. He’s too busy boring a hole through the TV with his eyes. 

“Do you think we’ll ever go back?” Asriel asks. 

“Absolutely not,” Chara reprimands, their voice sharp. Their tone is frigid enough that he immediately looks up from the cartoon. 

“I meant to visit!” Asriel backpedals. “S-Sometimes I miss it!” 

Chara gives him a glare. Frisk cowers and puts both hands over their ears. So much for his jokes improving their mood. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Asriel mutters sheepishly. "You know I didn't." 

Chara’s shoulders relax a fraction of an inch and the iciness of their gaze softens. They don’t get the chance to respond. 

“SANS! YOU LAZY BONES! PLAYING HOOKY FROM WORK AGAIN I SEE?”

The three of them light up at the sound of Papyrus arriving home. Frisk immediately twists toward the doorway. Asriel sits up with a grin. Chara sets down their colored pencils.  

“well, pap, you know what they say: twice as many jobs, twice as many breaks," Sans tells him, happy to hear that his brother is home and in good spirits.

“THAT IS NOT WHAT THEY SAY! YOU ARE JUST USED TO BOONDOGGLING!” Papyrus shouts back from the kitchen. 

“you mean bone-doggling.” 

Papyrus lets out a frustrated screech as he steps into the living room. Sans figures his awesome bro must have come straight home from the beach—he’s still in his swim trunks, bright sunglasses, and BONE GUN SHOW crop top. He grins. Wow, his brother is so cool. 

Frisk turns into a small human projectile as they launch themselves at Papyrus. The skeleton grunts as the wind in knocked clear out of him and he stumbles back, managing to hook his arms under Frisk to support them. 

"HUMAN! YOU ARE OUT OF SCHOOL EARLY! ARE YOU PLAYING HOOKY TOO?" Papyrus double-takes as he catches sight of Chara and Asriel in the living room as well. He triple-takes at the bruises blossoming around Frisk's eyes. "OH NO! WHAT ON EARTH HAS HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?" 

"Greetings, Papyrus," Chara says smoothly. Their expression remains passive as they look up from their drawing. Sans has learned that allowing someone to interrupt whatever they had been working on means they're excited to see whoever interrupted them. "One of our peers was picking on Frisk today. It resulted in Frisk's bruises and my suspension." 

"I SEE. SO YOU VALIANTLY LEAPT TO FRISK'S AID! JUST AS THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS TAUGHT YOU!" Papyrus strikes a heroic pose. 

Chara smiles. "I rearranged his face." 

At that, Papyrus begins to sweat. "NYEH...HEH...I DON'T REMEMBER TEACHING YOU THAT."

"Hi Papyrus!" Asriel chirps in, breaking the tension. 

"HELLO, TINY ASGORE!" Papyrus greets as Frisk attempts to scale the skeleton. They plant their socked feet on his pelvis at try to pull themselves up onto his shoulders. Papyrus doesn't mind. "DID YOU AID IN THE... FACE REARRANGING?" 

Asriel shakes his head. Papyrus huffs out a breath and relaxes some at this. Frisk grapples for purchase along Papyrus's spine. 

"PERSONALLY, I THINK FACES SHOULD REMAIN THE WAY THEY ARE, FOR EACH FACE IS GREAT THEY WAY IT IS! WHAT A SAD DAY IT WOULD BE IF A FACE AS GREAT AS MINE WAS REARRANGED! OF COURSE, SECOND HUMAN, WITH YOU BEING SUCH A TALENTED DISSECTOLOGIST, WITH YOUR HANDIWORK, MAYBE IT WOULD BE EVEN GREATER? THEN AGAIN, WITH A FACE THAT IS AS POWERFUL, POPULAR, AND PRESTIGIOUS AS MINE, IT MIGHT BE BEST TO LEAVE IT ALONE! THIS ABSOLUTELY MUST BE WHAT YOU ARE THINKING!" 

"I will not be rearranging your face, Papyrus," Chara answers smoothly. "How was the beach?"

Sans tunes the four of them out as Papyrus visibly relaxes and explains with great enthusiasm how the beach was. He only really needs to pay half attention if he wants to throw in a pun every now and again. For as much as Chara gives him the creeps, he is at least thankful that they like Papyrus so much. While Frisk and Asriel often feed Papyrus's high-spirited activities, Chara is an odd constant in their shenanigans, keeping them out of trouble just enough to avoid all out chaos. That, however, he doesn't know whether or not to feel thankful for. He barely listens in as Papyrus launches into a tirade about that little white stray that keeps hanging around. His brother swears that it followed them all the way to the beach just to torment him. 

"sounds ruff." 

Papyrus makes a noise of exasperation and purposefully ignores him. Sans sees this as a win. 

The kids eventually move to the dining table as Papyrus joins them in their coloring. Frisk drags Sans along, fingers hooked through his. Looks like he's not quite off the hook yet. Frisk is the first to hop into Papyrus's lap and help him construct blueprints of his latest puzzle. Asriel sticks close by and gives them helpful feedback. Chara chimes in occasionally, but remains busy shading in the tiles of the hall they had been working on. The four of them are in the middle discussing where they could get a confetti cannon when their mother gets home. 

Toriel fusses over Frisk the moment she walks in the door. 

Sans has no complaints. Means he can take a load off and sit down. He takes a seat at the kitchen table and watches Toriel do what she does best—love her children. 

Toriel greets each child with a hug and a kiss, even going as far to plant one on the top of Papyrus's skull out of habit (this results in a very flustered Papyrus, much to Sans amusement). She's quick to heal Frisk and erase the bruises from their face with a gentle wave of her hand. Under their mother's careful ministrations the tension that had been building up in Frisk all day begins to finally ebb away. As if sensing Frisk's anxiety, she offers to whip up a batch of cookies. Asriel follows her around like a kicked puppy, all droopy ears as he wrings his paws. He still obviously thinks they're getting grounded. 

Chara get's right to the point. 

"I am sure you heard what happened to Frisk at school today."

"I did. Mr. Matthews informed me of what happened," Toriel says. Her back is turned as ties her apron around her waist and works on the cookies she had promised Frisk. 

"Did he tell you the names Billy called Frisk after he pushed them off the swing?" 

Toriel pauses in the middle of fiddling with a carton of eggs. Sans watches as the fur along her neck stands up. 

"hey papyrus." Sans nudges his brother with an elbow to get his attention. "howzabout you take Asriel and Frisk to go work on that confetti cannon." 

Papyrus immediately picks up what he is putting down. 

"TINY ASGORE! HUMAN! I THINK NOW WOULD BE THE PERFECT TIME TO FINISH CONSTRUCTING OUR BLUEPRINTS FOR THAT CANNON! NOW SEEMS TO BE A GREAT TIME TO DO THAT! AND I THOUGHT OF THIS ALL BY MYSELF! THERE IS NO OTHER REASON WHY." Papyrus then ushers the both of them out into the living room. 

Once they are gone, Toriel turns to face Chara. 

"My child, how about you give me a hand with this batter?" Toriel suggests, attempting to circumnavigate around the palpable tension that has settled over the kitchen. 

Sans knows that Chara can't resist helping their mother cook. Just like how Asriel can't resist coloring or Frisk can't resist catching anything creepy crawly. It is when Chara refuses that Sans knows if Toriel doesn't choose her words carefully, their evening is about to go south.  

"He called them a freak. A monster lover," Chara plows on, ignoring Toriel. "He told them they didn't have real parents." 

Chara's shoulders raise and their hands flex at their sides. They're no longer smiling. 

And neither is he. 

Now Sans understands why the pair of them are so upset. Understands why Chara is so angry and more knotted and thorny than usual. Frisk could handle minor name calling, could shrug it off and let the words roll off their back. The latter of what Chara said is something he knows for certain they're very sensitive about. Frisk never talks much about their life before they fell Underground. None of them press much and it's not like they could get very far anyway with the way Frisk clams up about it. Other human kids have very different names and talk with their words and don't cling to their friends and parents when they try to leave the house without them. Not that any of this that Frisk does is wrong and he likes them regardless. It is just...now that he's heard more about human kids from Toriel teaching at the school, there is more about Frisk that raises red flags. 

Or rather blue flags. 

Frisk didn't have anywhere to return to on the Surface. They grabbed Toriel's hand and hung on tight. They're adamant that their family they have built is the only family they have ever had.

Chara grimaces and rubs at one of their eyes angrily. "Mother, I was suspended. You should be furious with me." 

Sans glances between the two. Toriel's brow furrows as her ears droop. "My child, may I give you a hug?"

Chara doesn't answer right away, seeming to weigh their options before they nod. Toriel pulls her child up into her arms so they can embrace. They stand like that for a long moment, so long that Sans begins to feel like he is intruding. Finally, Toriel sets Chara down and smooths back their hair. 

"My darling, I am not angry with you. Although I would prefer you use other... methods to defend Frisk, I am proud of you for sticking up for them," Toriel murmurs. "I am sure that meant the world to them. I know how much they seem to depend on you."

"If you insist." 

Toriel softens at the confused look on Chara's face. "My child...you are good. Of that I am certain." 

Sans can't help but wonder if that is completely true. 

Chara bobs their head and quietly thanks their mother. They pull up a stool besides Toriel and starts to help her with the batter. Toriel, always a saint, pays no mind when Chara sneaks extra chocolate chips. They sit like that for awhile; Sans dozes, Toriel whips up the cookies, and Chara provides eccentric commentary veiled in uncanny poise.  

The cookies are just being set out to cool when a knock on the door signals Asgore's arrival. 

"I'll get it, I'll get it, I'll get it!" Asriel comes barreling into the kitchen, squeezing past the kitchen table and sliding across the tile. There was a loud thump! of Asriel loosing his footing and colliding with the door in the breezeway. 

"Howdy!"

Frisk pads into the kitchen as Sans listens to Asriel greet his father. The kid has perked up significantly after spending time with Papyrus, which Sans is pretty relieved about. He gives the kid a wink as they head toward the breezeway to greet their dad. 

Sans takes note of Toriel's ears slumping as she wipes her paws off on the front of her apron. He knows that no matter what caliber of joke he throws her way, it will not be enough to fill in the void the absence of her children cause. Asgore has come to pick up Asriel and Toriel has to send her son home with him. 

Sans knows the separation is hard on Toriel. Frisk with her was the only thing her and Asgore could come to an agreement on. As much as Frisk loved Asgore, Toriel was the constant support they needed. They eventually came to an agreement on split custody of Chara and Asriel, even though Asriel decided to stay primarily with his dad. It wasn’t like Asriel didn't practically live with them anyway--kid had his own bed and everything. Sans just knew how much it ate Toriel up inside saying goodbye whenever she sent Asriel home to Asgore. 

Chara was easier. They have the tendency to float between the two households. And today, by the way they slip a hand into Toriel's paw, they have decided to stay home with Frisk.  

Asgore hums as he steps into the kitchen and pries both Asriel and Frisk off his legs in order to sweep the two of them up into a hug. Chara, much to Sans surprise, offers to give their dad a hug before he has to ask. 

"Greetings, Father." 

"Howdy, Chara. How was school today?" 

"It was school," Chara answers neutrally. Frisk and Asriel are more than happy to skip the subject entirely as Frisk begins signing at rapid speed about their blueprints for a confetti cannon. Sans seizes the opportunity while the kids are distracted to sidle up to Toriel. 

"'ey tori." 

"Yes?" she asks.

"i was going to tell you a skeleton pun but..." Sans pauses for dramatic effect. "i don't have the guts to do it." 

Toriel bleats out a laugh, her sour mood momentarily lifted. 

Toriel ends up sending Asriel home with a bag of cookies and a kiss. She also shoots Asgore a stink eye or two, causing him to shuffle nervously back outside. Asriel exchanges hugs with Frisk and Chara and promises to see them bright and early in the morning. 

He muses about when is a good time to talk to Toriel about today's events. 

He sort of hopes never.

Much to Sans's surprise, Toriel doesn't talk to Chara about their behavior at school. If anything, when Sans tries to bring it up, Toriel sighs and mutters about it being inevitable. When he asks who will be watching the little hellion during their suspension, Toriel enlists Papyrus in babysitter duty. Papyrus accepts happily and even though Sans hides his hesitancy. He doesn't know why he has mixed feelings about Chara and Papyrus being left by themselves. They get along well enough (like a house on fire) and it's not like Chara is going to do anything to hurt him. He doesn't know why he even has that thought let alone why it causes his SOUL to drop to his feet. 

Sans tosses it up to missing his midday nap and hopes tomorrow will go smoothly for Papyrus. 

He'll have to wait and see.