Chapter Text
Wherever he was, it was unfamiliar and definitely hostile. It was dark and musty and the air reeked of sweat and dust. Sans looked around the twisted version of ‘his’ house from the vantage point of ‘his’ couch. Most things were the same, with hauntingly small differences here and there. The furniture was all placed in the same spots, but it seemed… colder. Less welcoming. All the colors had shifted to depressing greys and blacks and reds. A chill made it’s way down Sans’s spine.
“SANS, QUIT LEAVING YOUR GARBAGE IN MY ROOM!!!” A piercing voice tore through the house.
“w, what?” How did the voice know his name? Garbage? What did he mean? Sans always picked up after himself. An annoyed, gravelly groan came from behind the door that usually led to his brother’s room before it was violently smashed open. The door left marks on the wall where it slammed, alongside many others like it. Anger issues, much?
A VERY tall, threatening, and rugged version of Papyrus lingered in the doorway like a shadow. This Papyrus wore a dark colored, heavy looking battle body instead of his usual hoodie and shorts. He wore a deep red scarf, gloves, and heeled boots (which he really didn’t need; he was tall enough without them). His face was sharp, his teeth jagged, and a very plain scar cracked across his left eyesocket. He was incredibly intimidating.
And he was PISSED.
For a moment, he looked frozen in his scowl, probably because he was startled by Sans’s presence instead of his brother’s. He quickly recovered, though, sweeping down the stairs, picking Sans up by the neck, and pinning him against the wall. He was holding so tightly that Sans couldn’t breathe.
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” He demanded. Sans tried to gesture to him that he couldn’t speak if he couldn’t breathe, but it came out more like flailing around in desperation. Papyrus loosened up, nonetheless, but only just enough to leave Sans room to gasp out a sentence.
“sans. my name is sans. i don’t know where i am, or how i got here, i’m sorry…”
“YOU AREN’T SANS. YOU ALMOST LOOK LIKE HIM, BUT,” he scrapes a finger across the side and top of Sans’s skull, tracing an imaginary line through Sans’s left eyesocket. The feeling sends a shiver down Sans’s spine. “YOU’RE MISSING HIS SCAR. HIS TOOTH. YOU’RE DRESSED LIKE AN IDIOT. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE FOOLING?”
Another Sans..? A twisted version of his world?
“alternate universe! i’m from an alternate universe! underswap!” he said quickly. He could feel Papyrus’s grip tightening again.
“ALTERNATE..? OH, YOU’RE FROM ONE OF THOSE ‘SOFT’ WORLDS, AREN’T YOU.” It was more of a statement than a question.
‘well… i mean…” Papyrus pulled away and let Sans fall to the ground. Hard. Ouch.
“YOU’RE NO THREAT.” Double ouch. Maybe he wasn’t as… intense as this Papyrus was, but he could still defend himself. Usually.
Sans rubbed his neck where Papyrus had choked him. Once he got over how much that had hurt, he looked back up at the darker version of his brother.
There was something about this Papyrus. He was so mysterious, and dark, and dare Sans say… handsome? Even more than his own brother?
Sans blushed at the thought. Papyrus stared at him with a slightly confused expression. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by the sound of the door being thrust open.
“yo, boss, i got that ‘thing’ done that you needed…” An almost mirror image of Sans strode in (which was hard to do since his legs were so short). He wore a leather jacket lined with gold faux fur. He smelled like cigarette smoke, sweat, and dust. It was really unsettling. He had a low voice. It was strange to think that Sans was looking at himself. He seemed so different.
“woah. who’s the blueberry?”