Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

King Papyrus, the first of his name, reigned for exactly eight months and seventeen days before falling down.

He'd tried. Oh god he'd tried so, so hard. To be good. To be fair. To inspire the people. To work harder. To be the king he was needed to be.

He'd rarely slept before, so he threw out the concept entirely, starting from the day of his coronation. He didn't rest. He didn't stop. It technically wasn't necessary, so away it went.

He didn't know how to be king.

Sans helped, but Sans was no king, either. Sans was strong and hard working and brave in those times. He mostly focused on the paperwork, but that was a major burden lifted. All that tiny text started to blur after a while for him, and while he could handle headaches (he always had one now), he still couldn't focus. Sans kept things running whenever he couldn't, and he was so, so very thankful for him. He was honestly amazing. Papyrus had never seen him work so hard.

Papyrus had been told that he'd been amazing too, though he didn't see how. Everyone was giving up.

He couldn't give up. He couldn't!

He smiled. He smiled and smiled because it had always been so natural to him. It comforted people. It helped, sometimes. But he'd seen his own reflection sometimes and on a good day he looked so, so tired. On a bad day, his smile was so permanent and perfect and fixed that the falseness of his own expression unsettled him.

Underneath the smile, the grandiose gestures, the kingly posture and presence he'd imitated from Asgore's portraits collected throughout the centuries, Papyrus was draining himself down to nothing. Sometimes when he practiced his magic, less as actual practice and more as a way to keep his hands busy during the rare moments of downtime he had, he'd find nothing but flickers and fizzles. Sometimes his bone attacks just wouldn't form correctly. Too warped, too pliable. Other times he might launch one, only to watch it dissipate before ever reaching its target. On those sorts of days, he knew something was wrong , and he would call that familiar number he knew by heart, the number keys themselves worn down in his phone, because Undyne had always been his go-to expert on all things magic and training, hoping against hope she would answer.

‘Please answer me, Undyne. Please.’

Undyne would have known what to do. She knew all sorts of things about magic, and about Asgore, too! She knew how he handled things, the way he made it all work. This was knowledge he desperately needed now. And it just would have been lovely hear her stories and share a cup of tea! (Papyrus himself hated tea, but he drank it all the time now. Asgore must have had good reason for drinking the stuff. Which flowers did he use again…? He was so forgetful lately.) They didn't have to spar or cook or do any of the stuff they used to. They could just chat or walk around the garden and reminisce about older, better times. His joints hurt so much; that sounded more appealing. She'd probably think it was boring, but he could make it fun! She could play piano for him and he could try to sing along. They should have done that more. It was fun. Or maybe they could watch some of those baby cartoons together. He didn't know which one was her favorite, and he felt now that he'd really like to know.

It was really too bad she was… on vacation.

It seemed that everyone had gone on vacation.

Vacation.  

Most days he liked to pretend it was true. Maybe it was! No one could truly prove it wasn't, right? And he liked the idea that they were all off somewhere, having fun. Having a blast. Without him. That part didn't matter. He would never take a vacation anyway. He tried not to wonder if Sans thought he really believed it. Whether Sans thought he was truly that naïve. That was a harder conversation than he was willing to have. It was easier pretending.

Sometimes he wondered when they started lying to each other but couldn't recall an exact moment. Maybe when Sans became the Judge and swore himself to secrecy for The Crown, thinking Papyrus would never know (even after Papyrus became The Crown). Maybe when Sans and his father had the accident at the lab, and Sans denied anything was wrong, even while crying in his sleep every night, thinking Papyrus couldn't hear him through the thin walls of the apartment, thinking he didn't wonder why they'd always had that empty extra room. Maybe it was when Papyrus, unsettled by the whole thing and unwilling to reopen old wounds, failed to mention the memories that flooded back in an instant when he'd gone to clean the basement. Father. The lab. The machine. The flash of light that seemed to reach everything, through everything, fill everything, even his own skull. He never said a word and never made a single reference. It was better to forget, right? Forget it and smile.  

Maybe the lies started earlier even than that.

It didn't matter. They were brothers who happened to lie to each other a lot. That's just who they were.

When Sans asked how he was feeling, Papyrus told Sans he had never felt better. He wanted it to be true. He met with a lot of monsters now, and sometimes he saw things in himself he saw in them. But he refused to believe the end result would be the same. He was strong! He wouldn't give up! He was… determined!

And that was the difference, wasn't it? That was the trick. The solution to the puzzle. Willpower. Determination. As long as he held on…

Papyrus was going to be like Undyne, and never give up.

(Why was she not answering her phone? He... he needed help?)

And he didn't give up!

(Maybe he dialed the number wrong? His hands were shaking. Did they always do that?)

He never, ever gave up!

(Again and again and he couldn't dial correctly. No one picked up. He dropped the phone and bits of it shattered. Clumsy. Clumsy, stupid idiot. How was Undyne going to call him back, now?)

...he didn't give up, but he did fall down.

He fell down, and no matter how much he fought to open up his sockets, they refused. (Or maybe they were open, but he just couldn't see anymore. It was so hard to tell.) He'd spent too much. His soul had run itself ragged. And… oh god, he'd failed. They never said whether the fallen could hear what happened around them. Whether they were aware. He learned they were, and some part of him tried to store that information away. For when he got better. For when he could try to save more people. He could do an even better job with experience! As soon as he got better he could help others get better, too!

It was kind of hard to think, now, but he decided on a mantra whenever his mind would start to unravel, and it seemed to bring him back to the in-between, even if he could never wake up completely.

Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.

Sans had been there, of course. He felt his energy. Heard his voice, though hearing was distant, garbled. He couldn't understand a lot of words anymore, rarely able to process them. Sans started strong for what must have been the first day or two, then crying. Then… familiar apathy. Papyrus knew his brother cared. About the world. About him. He could feel it even now. But hearing that in his voice…

His own brother was giving up because of him. What kind of a king was he!? He wasn't there for his people. He wasn't there for his brother. Thank the stars his friends were already dead, or he'd be letting them down, too.

Dying was an interesting feeling.  

Not what he'd expected. It was more of a melty, gooey, floaty feeling than anything else.

For reasons he couldn't explain, he found the process fascinating, and he tried to take note of every part of it. Every pain, every ache, every loss of function or feeling. Perhaps he thought he'd find an opening. A trick. A game to play against death, one he was determined to win if ever graced with the opportunity. He was a master of games, and he idly thought of all the ones he'd played in life and what great fun he'd had. (He tried to shift back to his new reality, though. The falling and falling apart.) Perhaps it was just a way to stay conscious, to take all he could from life before life was taken from him.

Death was warm. Death was “comforting.” But the comfort wasn't genuine. It wasn't real. He couldn't worry anymore, couldn't feel the emotion, couldn't form the thoughts. He wasn't comforted, though. You might gag a person, but that doesn't really stop them from screaming. You just can't hear it anymore.

Regret and sadness and anger were dulled but they never went away, even as he faded. Even as whatever force tried to muffle those thoughts, that energy.

The last coherent thought he had was a question more than anything. He wondered if he was dying smiling.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to or not.

After that, there was peace, and then nothing.

...And then he woke up in his racecar bed back in Snowdin, with a clarity to his thoughts that he hadn't felt in months. Confused, but at least aware of his own confusion. Regretful. Hopeful?

Apprehensive.

Chapter Text

Papyrus was alive.

It was hard to wrap his mind around the concept. (Surprisingly hard, considering he had been alive all his life!) He'd been dying. He'd known he had been dying. He had expected after everything that happened to actually be dead! Not that he wasn't grateful! He most certainly was, but gratitude was matched equally with confusion.

He reached for his magic, and let it course and cycle through his bones, just a trickle, but enough to know it was there. It felt wonderful and warm. A grand injustice had at last been righted. He’d missed feeling so… alive! With the confirmation that he had the energy to spare, he reached out for his soul, cherishing both the initial lift as he took over control of his own gravity and the the grounding weight that followed. It was always such a strange feeling. Somehow feeling more in touch with reality, yet completely in control of its forces.

Back when he’d had them, his dreams never properly conveyed this feeling.

Papyrus reflected on that thought before glancing around the room. His sights settled on his old digital clock. He'd thought he packed that for the move to the Capital, but perhaps not? After all, he couldn’t say the last month or so had been his most… lucid.

He frowned, remembering bits and pieces of just how unwell he'd actually been, before sighing and attempting to focus.

5:34

“Five, three, four,” he muttered under his breath. “Five, three, four.” It was earlier, though not by much, than when he usually woke up, back when he'd actually still taken naps. (Perhaps he should have taken more.) He turned away from the clock, briefly, to focus on the rest of his surroundings. The question began to cross his mind:

Assuming this wasn’t just a dying dream, what was he doing back in Snowdin?

Maybe Sans brought him here to die?

He startled himself. That was… a nice thought.

He'd never thought much before the human came about his own morality. Never had plans or requests for the dust. Never planned to fall down at all! If he had to die, he always wanted it to be in a big, cool battle protecting crown and country. Of course, in such a fight he would have preferred to survive , but if he had to pick a death, that was his preference. It was a glorious kind of death, he guessed. A helpful kind of death! A people-remember-your-name kind, and he'd always found that idea quite appealing.

After the human left, he'd been more focused on making sure no one else died, and then he'd been too… well, he hadn't picked out end of life plans (even after it became obvious he should have), but coming back to Snowdin and dying in his own bed was… nice. It was a nice, thoughtful gesture, if that's what this was. It was morbid, terribly sad, but nice.

He sighed, and turned back to face the clock again.

5:37

Huh.

One last time, he turned away from the clock, then back around to it. Still the same. Still 5:37. He watched closely as the next minute ticked in.

Probably not a dream, then. He’d… really expected it to be, optimist though he was! It was just so strange. He was completely awake and aware and he saw no signs of damage. No dents in his skull from when he’d hit the throne room floor. His joints were completely free of pain. He felt so much better. He could run a marathon. He could lift a boulder! He could fight and spar and cook and play and stand and walk and… and… it really did feel too good to be true.

Falling down was serious, and make no mistake: he had fallen. Recovery of any kind was so, so rare. He’d seen almost none in his lifetime (and when he became King, he saw quite a lot of falling), and never was the monster fully healthy and fully recharged. Falling down always left a mark somewhere. The fact that he couldn't find how it had marked him was worrisome. It was better to know than to be surprised, he expected. Denial that this would hurt him would only hurt him more.  

He looked around the room, taking it all in. Really, nothing was out of place for how he’d used to have things. He’d definitely packed the action figures, yet here they were. The flag, too, and with the exact number of pins he’d used to hang it himself. Seven! It was a very lucky number, for a very lucky skeleton! (Even luckier than he always thought!) If Sans had brought all this back, as he suspected (how else would any of this be here?), then his attention to detail had been amazing.

Then, he saw it. Small, dark, silvery, sitting on his nightstand, plugged into an outlet.

His cell phone.

Now that… the phone was broken. He remembered that. He’d… he’d been woozy, fading. He called for help. He called Undyne. He’d… forgotten. But his motor skills had been shot. The phone fell just moments before he himself did. He watched it shatter. It… had been the last thing he saw.

But this… this was solid. There were no cracks. There were no breaks. An old scratch from his fingers near the power button, a familiar dent on the left edge. It was indeed his phone. He and Sans shared the same kind of magic, and though it occasionally manifested differently, Papyrus knew for a fact that magically repairing electronic objects like this was beyond either of them. He knew of no living monsters who could.

Suddenly, the theory that somehow Sans had done all of this was feeling… less likely.

Bracing himself, he flipped open the phone, taking care to read the time. 5:41. This still didn’t seem to be a dream. So, what then? How was this all better? How was all of it better?

Then he caught a glimpse the date, and felt his magic start to run cold though him. That… wasn’t right! The date displayed was months ago: the day before the human came. Right before the last time he saw Undyne, the day everything changed and Asgore died and the Underground was left without a true leader.

How?

Maybe the phone didn’t shatter like he remembered. He was very confused, especially then? Maybe when it hit the stone tile it hit an inner component and the date changed… leaving the time in tact?

“THINK, PAPYRUS.”

His computer! Yes! That would display the date and time and correct the record once and for all! Only when it booted up, the date was the same, and it was 5:43. What?

He logged onto Undernet. He hadn't used it since his coronation. It was far too quiet when no one he followed posted, and nobody replied to his own posts. It had been like shouting into a void, and it had made him feel so very alone. As king, he likely could have gathered up all the new followers he wanted, but what was the point in that? Instead, he’d left a nice message goodbye, and never logged back on again. That message should still be there. No one but him knew his password. No one but him could take it down.Yet the post was gone, and it's absence left him with a tiny spark of anger. That message had been important.

Papyrus scrolled through his feed, already knowing he wouldn't find the goodbye, but upset by its absence regardless. It was just his usual old posts. Really dumb posts, looking back, and not a single one marked after the date being displayed.

Then, suddenly, something strange and horrifying happened with with the tinny chiming of an artificial bell.

ALPHYS: good mornin coolskeleton95! ^_^

Papyrus was paralyzed.

ALPHYS: u get any sleep? Im still up lmao

How?

ALPHYS is typing...

He clumsily but decisively turned off the monitor, as if he would be bitten by it if he didn’t.  

HOW!?

Alphys was dead on vacation. She’d still posted later than the others had when they… left, (each status update more vague and terrifying than the last; he wasn't sure she ever saw his replies), but eventually her posts had stopped... and never started again. She couldn't just be… back.

...could she?

Maybe this was one of Sans's pranks?

But just as quickly as he thought it, he dismissed it. This was too weird and cruel to be something Sans pulled. His brother didn't always understand the difference between tasteful banter and aggravation, but even if he occasionally crossed a line by mistake, he had never done anything like try to prank his recently-fallen brother into believing he was reliving the worst week of his life, so dedicated that he decided to begin impersonating the dead. That wasn't crossing a line. That was gleefully smashing through the barriers of all decent monster behavior entirely. Papyrus had always firmly believed that nothing Sans could ever do would be completely unforgivable. Never, ever. And yet… that would come close. If this was a prank…

No. It wasn’t a prank. He refused to keep worrying that it was. If it turned out was, then that was something he would need to face, but it wasn't. It couldn't be.

He was done in the room. It had always been his sanctuary but right now it was suffocating him. He needed… he needed…

He didn't know.

He wandered around the house, quietly. Everything was just as he remembered it. A glance at Sans’s closed door reminded him that his brother might be there, but he couldn't compel himself to consider waking him, even if he might have the answers Papyrus needed. He was nervous, and Sans… Sans had always been a source of comfort before, but after he became King, burdening his brother with his troubles just felt wrong. Immature. Unkinglike! He was already struggling to full Asgore's shoes. (Often literally!) He didn't need to make it more obvious what a child he was in comparison.

He thought briefly to the kingdom, and the worries flooded in before he could even fully register them individually.  

What had happened after he fell?

Did…?

Had everyone…? Did anyone…?

But who would…?

And… he forcibly removed the train of thought from his mind!

He wasn't ready.

He didn't like to take breaks but in light of the circumstances he could justify an hour or two of not thinking about it. Instead, he focused his attention on walking to the kitchen, and if he did so with a blue grip on his own soul, that was just a coincidence.

Papyrus raided the cabinets in search of food. He wasn't really hungry, but cooking was a nice way to clear his thoughts. He hadn't actually cooked for himself in months! Most of what was stocked was supplies for making pasta, and he found he was really not in the mood to cook that, now. Early on in his rule, he'd tried making spaghetti for his guests at special functions, or for any visiting subjects who came to the throne room in search of guidance or with complaints and requests. Eventually someone, ever so gently, as if he would yell at them, or as if he would break, told him the people didn't really like his spaghetti. That it just wasn't very good spaghetti. He’d been… sad, but likely not for any of the reasons that monster had assumed. From then on, he kept some of his culinary masterpieces on hand in tupperware, gift wrapped in boned-patterned reed paper and sealed with a fancy satin bow. When a particularly rude or angry subject came to court, they left with a very special royal gift. Then, he'd make a replacement batch to feel better! He hoped that at least one recipient actually liked their pasta presents. They were made with extra passion!

He chuckled, thinking about it. Such a silly, petty little thing, but it kept him sane!

… For a while, at least. His chuckling turned bitter. He wasn't even sure if he was sane right now. It was so easy to fall back into his old confidence, in himself, in his physical and mental fitness, but just because his magic had returned and his pain was gone… that didn't mean he was alright. He certainly felt fine. As if all his problems had just been wiped away entirely. But was that truly the case? It wasn't a dream, but perhaps a hallucination? Maybe dreams worked differently in comas. Or maybe he was really actually dead!

…Oh. Maybe?

He had felt himself die, hadn't he?

Oh.

He hadn't really anticipated an afterlife! That was something for humans, not monsters. Some believed in that sort of thing, but not Papyrus. It had made the idea of a “vacation” more appealing than the more obvious truth. Vacation implied continuance. Death did not.

...Well! This was all very strange! And awful! Forget breakfast. Papyrus needed air.

Papyrus stood outside the front door for a while, trying to feel as much of the cold and wind as he could. His bones had never felt temperatures in the same way fleshy monsters did, but it was still there. Especially standing in place for too long, the ice caking in certain joints. Really, it was rather dangerous. It was why Papyrus stuck with the black thermal undergarment for his battle body (besides the fact that it looked very striking and cool), even though the cold didn't feel bad. It was a precaution!

He wasn't sure what to think anymore. Everything felt too real to be… not real. In fact, in some ways, the last few months were beginning to feel more like the dream. And Papyrus… Papyrus had had very interesting dreams in the past. One that felt like it lasted months, though? That was… possible? But Papyrus knew the palace as well as his own house. That wasn't a dream? All that sadness, all those subjects, their stories, the court, Asgore’s old diaries, the way his own deterioration felt… that was all very real to him.

He just couldn't reconcile two apparent realities. It made him feel like he was missing something, the one left out of a grand joke of the universe. If this was a prank...

He didn't like this.

Papyrus pulled out his cell phone and dialed that old familiar number. He didn't know if he was expecting anything different this time... but... it was practically a nervous tic at this point. One of many.

RING

He hoped in spite of himself.

RING

He… he really hoped.

RING

He frowned.

RING

He started sniffling.

RING

He gave up hoping.

“Hey! This is Undyne! I'm probably off beating up some bad guys right now! Leave a message or call me back! Or both! Here comes the beep!”

Papyrus found himself mouthing along with the words as cold tears started to creep their way down his cheekbones.

“BEEP!!!”

BEEP

Papyrus choked back a sob and hung up without a word.

He was stupid to think that would work. He thought that maybe… maybe if it wasn't… if something…

Wow, what was wrong with him? Of course Undyne wasn’t going to answer her phone. Undyne was dead. Undyne was dead and she was never going to answer her phone. She was never going to call him back. She was never going to talk to him again.

Undyne was dead!

He was such a f--

RING

…Huh? That was… that was Undyne's number??

RING

He wasn't sure whether to be elated or terrified. He tried for both and found himself staring in wonder at the phone, still crying. Undyne would have called him a wuss.

RING

Third ring. He never let it get to the third ring. Stupid. He pressed the button to start the call but found the words stuck inside his jaw. What was he even going to say?

“...H-hello?”

“PAPYRUS!!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?”

What? Was he alright? Eight and a half months of silence and was he alright!?  

(...well, was he? Wasn't that a question!)

“...PAPYRUS!?”

“O-oh… um, sorry. I… I just…” He was really speaking to Undyne. They were… they were really talking.

She finally answered. She answered.

She answered!!

“Papyrus...?"

“I'm just s-so h-ap…” Oh no. Get it together! He couldn’t cry! He wouldn’t cry! “happy you… you c-c-called… I…” Oh he was crying. This wasn't right at all!

“Woah. Woah woah, hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay, Papyrus. Shh... shhh... It's okay.” Those soothing tones were not something that came naturally for Undyne. He'd certainly never heard them directed at himself, only the occasional lost child who needed comforting. Still, she was so very good at it, even over the phone. “You don't have to cry, bud. It’s okay. Deep breaths, okay?”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. He let his magic flow a bit again. Just to... just feel it. This was real. He was real.

“I-I’m very sorry. I… I just… I didn't think you would… pick up. And then you didn't… and… and… I'm so, so sorry I'm like this right now. I'm just… I'm having a very strange morning.”

“I bet... You don't even sound like you, Paps. Do you want me to come over? We can… talk it out?” 

That was the most wonderful suggestion he'd heard in months. “YES!” He paused. He wasn't even sure what was going on. He wasn't even sure what to talk about. “THOUGH, PERHAPS IN A FEW HOURS? I… I SHOULD MAKE BREAKFAST FIRST. THE... THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY!” (When was the last time he actually had breakfast?)

“There's the old Paps. But dude, uh… in a few hours, your shift starts. I'm… not even a little against you taking a day off, in fact you totally should,” she added with a grumble, “but you, like, never do. Seriously, what's wrong?”

His shift...? Oh. The sentry thing? Did she… did she not know? Or… wait? Was he still? Or…?

“I… I THINK THAT I AM ALRIGHT? HOWEVER… I DO FEEL A BIT… STRANGE?”

“Uh huh… Alright. You're taking a sick day, and that's not up for discussion.” This was the part where he would scoff he wasn't so relieved to have the extra time to sort this. A sick day was fine, actually. He'd earned one. "You sure you don't need me there now? I gotta admit when I heard your ‘message’ and you didn't pick up right away… I worry about you, Papyrus. You're my friend. I don't want you getting hurt or sick or sad or whatever and trying to play it off, okay? Whatever’s up with you, you really don't sound good.”

She was worried about him? Wait…Did she just call him her…!?!?!?

“FRIEND!?” he sputtered. Sure, she was his friend, but he hasn't thought… he hadn't expected… friend. Wowie! He was Undyne’s friend!

“Haha, what? Oh, yeah, of course! You didn't need me to say it like that to know it, right? Cuz dude, you're like my best friend. Seriously!!! So if something's up or wrong you gotta let me know. It's a Friend Rule.”

He snorted. He missed these silly calls, talking about silly things. Everything lately had been so serious and important. “WOWIE, UNDYNE! I DIDN'T KNOW THERE WERE FRIEND RULES!”

“OBVIOUSLY! That was rule number two of the Friend Rules!!”

“AND WHAT'S RULE NUMBER ONE?” he asked, falling back into the old rhythm quickly.

“‘Don't talk about the Friend Rules!’”

“BUT YOU JUST--!!!” Papyrus moved the end of the phone away from his mouth to cover it with his other mitten and down out the very unrespectable sounds he was making.

“I hear you giggling, Papyrus! Don't try to hide it! That's an order!”

Tears were rolling down his face in earnest now, bitter ones that had been held back before, but given new purpose. It felt so good to laugh. “NYEH HEH HEH! WELL, I CAN'T DISOBEY AN ORDER!”

They both laughed for a while longer, Papyrus laughing just from the catharsis of laughing at all. He missed that! He missed this! He missed Undyne! And Undyne laughed along, presumably, from hearing the terrible sounds he was making. Not his dignified kingly chuckle he'd perfected, or his patented Great Papyrus nyeh-heh-heh. Just some strange mix of crying and giggling and sobbing and smiling and silent choking and gasps for air and it just felt so good! The best he'd felt in months!

Maybe the best he'd felt in years!

Or possibly ever!

He finally, after several minutes, managed to contain himself. “AHEM. I NEEDED THAT.”

“I could tell!! It wasn't even that funny! It didn’t even make much sense, honestly.”

“I KNOW! …I’M REALLY GLAD WE TALKED, UNDYNE. I… I was feeling really… bad…  BUT! YOU CHEERED ME RIGHT UP!”

“That's never been hard to do. You're one of the most positive monsters I know! It was…honestly kind of scary hearing you like that. I thought… I thought that something happened and… you might be dying or something. ...You aren't dying, right!?”

“AH, NO! PROBABLY NOT?”

“PROBABLY!?”

“WELL. I MEAN, NOT TO MY KNOWLEDGE? BUT… YOU NEVER KNOW IF SOMETHING MIGHT HAPPEN. I DON'T WANT TO MAKE A PROMISE I CAN'T KEEP!”

“...Just how sick are you?”

“I'M OKAY, UNDYNE. REALLY! I JUST… WELL, I SUPPOSE I JUST… HAD A BAD DREAM?”

“You mean you actually slept long enough to have a dream?”

“FRIGHTENING, I KNOW! IT JUST… IT FELT… VERY REAL. AND WHEN I WOKE UP, I WAS A BIT CONFUSED! I ADMIT, I STILL AM. JUST A LITTLE! I'M OKAY RIGHT NOW, THOUGH.”

Papyrus paused, realizing. “...I WOKE YOU UP, DIDN'T I?”

“Yeah! You did!! But don't worry about it! I don't mind when it's for emergencies!”

“BUT THIS WASN'T AN EMERGENCY?”

“It was just as urgent and important as anything else, Paps. You're always there when I need you, two rings or less. You should know I'll always be there for you, too. Just call. If I can, I'll always, always call right back. Okay?”

“O-OKAY.” He wiped at another set of tears that were forming and tried putting his hand to his chest to gather up his confidence again. “NOW I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL MAKE BREAKFAST FOR MYSELF AND MY LAZY BROTHER, AND THEN I SHALL HAVE MY VERY FIRST SICK DAY!”

“You're doing the pose, aren't you?”

“OF COURSE!”

Papyrus heard her chuckling. “I'll see you in a few hours, punk!”

“GET SOME MORE SLEEP! IT'S VERY GOOD FOR YOU!”

“Wow, maybe I need to get over there sooner.”

“IT'S FINE! GOODBYE, UNDYNE! I'M GLAD WE TALKED!”

“Me too, Papyrus. Later!”

Papyrus let Undyne hang up first and listened as long as he could. He felt so wonderful and so strange. It made no sense. If this was the afterlife, surely she would have mentioned? And if she was returning from ‘vacation,’ Papyrus felt that would also be a topic of conversation!

So… had he just… gone back in time or something?

That seemed ridiculous. But… it would fit pieces he currently had to this puzzle. What he didn't know was why, or how. It seemed impossible, but so did every other possibility, really.

Perhaps this was Death’s gift? One final game, a battle of the wits? One chance to go back and change what had gone wrong? That seemed… possible!

Whether it was, or was not, Papyrus could figure out as the day progressed. Now that he finally felt truly grounded, he could work this out with time! He was still determined! He wouldn’t give up!  And he knew now what sorts of things to possibly expect. He wasn't running around blind or in a panic.

Now that he’d talked to Undyne he had gone from confused and sad and apprehensive to downright giddy! He was going to see his friend again! His friend who also felt that he, Papyrus, was her friend as well! Mutual friends! Well, no…. no, that wasn’t what that term meant. But whatever! He was just too excited! Even if this was a dream, even if he woke up right now and went back to dying and broken and sad and confused it was still worth it all just for this one lovely, confusing talk! And if he didn’t wake up, if the day continued…! He could only dream of being so lucky!

He never thought eight and a half months ago (or… from now?) that his normal old life would seem so glorious and exciting!

And then! Then…!  TOMORROW! Tomorrow…

…tomorrow the human might come… and… and he might lose everything… again…

He really didn’t want to think about tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Papyrus walked back inside of the house practically buzzing. Undyne was alive! He was going to see her again! Not only that, but he wasn't the king anymore!! That was great news! It was still not as great as having his friend back, but he would be lying if he said it wasn't almost close. The throne, his vows, his duties, they were meant to be for life, and he had accepted that without a single reservation. He’d been needed. That was all it took; that was all that mattered. But this changed everything. At least for today, at least for tomorrow, he was free. Free from the burdens, free from the stress! He was free to be not-King-Papyrus!

…whoever that was!

He wasn't entirely sure, now that that option was in front of him. Of course, he had only been the king for under nine months, and not-king for a far greater length of time, but the identity had quickly grown to be apart of him all the same. It wasn't just a cape and costume he could put away if he ever became bored or tired of it, (though, granted, there was a cape and it was incredibly fashionable), it was a responsibility. A burden that stuck with him. Without it, he was… well, he was just going to have to figure that out!

He wandered back into the kitchen to start planning what to make. Maybe he could make something for Undyne, too? She would probably just want spaghetti. With how often they made it, it may well have been her favorite food. He wasn't sure. Perhaps he would ask! (Just having the option to ask her things was amazing!!)

He still really couldn't believe that she had answered. Though maybe he should have realized after--

… oh no.

OH NO!!!  

Papyrus skipped running up the stairs for practically flinging himself up them by the soul. Normally he would be a little more careful, a little more graceful, but he had made a huge mistake! Running into his room, Papyrus turned his monitor back on. If Undyne was alive and real, then…!!!

COOLSKELETON95: I AM SO SO SORRY ALPHYS!!!!

COOLSKELETON95: I AM IN A BIT OF A DAZE THIS MORNING!! I WAS NOT TRULY AWAKE YET WHEN YOU MESSAGED ME!

 

ALPHYS: * you okay tho?

 

COOLSKELETON95: I THINK SO!

MAYBE!

I AM HAVING A SICK DAY ACTUALLY

MY FIRST!

 

ALPHYS: *well i hope u feel better! get some more sleep!!

* take care of yourself! <3

* i know thats rich coming from me lol

 

COOLSKELETON95: I WILL TRY! THANK YOU!

YOU SHOULD TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF TOO!!!

I DONT KNOW WHAT I WOULD DO WITHOUT MY FELLOW NIGHT OWL TO TALK TO!

IT WOULD BE VERY LONELY AT NIGHT!!

(That was true. It had been very, very lonely. )

ALPHYS: *thanks, coolskeleton95…

* im always happy that someone reads the crap I post

* lol

 

COOLSKELETON85: IT ISNT CRAP! ITS INTERESTING!

I FEEL AS IF I HAVE WATCHED MANY CARTOONS FROM YOUR RAMBLINGS!!

 

ALPHYS: * omfg they arent cartoons!!

The chat went on from there for quite a while. It was very one-sided. Papyrus was happy to allow someone else take the reigns of the conversion! This used to feel so normal… just sitting online, discussing the artistic merits of dumb kids shows. It was so silly, so wonderfully irrelevant. He wondered what Dr. Alphys would think of her cool, mysterious online friend crying like a baby bones for the third time in one morning over her current tangential rant about Mew Mew Kissy Cutie sequels.  He hoped she would still think he was cool!! Otherwise he would just be SKELETON95!

He basked in the rightness of it all, for a while. This was how things were meant to be. This was right. This was home. Though in some ways, he did feel as if something was deeply amiss. He tried to ignore it.

Papyrus eventually tabbed in and out of the conversation. He wanted to give her his fullest of fullest attentions… however he was also trying to spend this time researching as well, making sure things were, indeed, as he remembered nine months ago. So far, it seemed so. Asgore was still the king. Undyne the Captain, Alphys the Royal Scientist. The Capital was still New Home, and still no one visited The Ruins. Not a thing seemed out of place.

Nothing but…

…

… Boy, Dr. Alphys sure could type! He always pictured her with two hands, but at this rate it had to be at least four! Anything less than six would be impressive!

Papyrus was never certain what his best (only) online friend looked like. Asgore had not kept many photographs of his staff, at least as far as Papyrus had found. Most were dated before Alphys's fairly recent hire. As for Alphys, herself… she never posted selfies. Her profile’s album was mostly filled with jokes and incomprehensible memes, or, rarely, filtered snapshots of things around her lab. She was always quite deliberately out of frame. He always got impression she didn't like to be seen and accepted her privacy. It was something that Papyrus had trouble understanding a few months ago, when all he ever wanted was the attention of absolutely everyone. He'd dreamed of all eyes in a room being fixed on him. When he did get everyone's attention, that dream collapsed on itself. Sometimes the scrutiny and pressure made him wish he had skin to hide beneath or to crawl right back out of.

He understood.

He understood a lot about Dr. Alphys that he would not have without having lived out the next eight and a half months already. Unfortunately, he wasn't close enough to Alphys to really talk to her about all the things he wanted her to know. Not out of the blue like this. Not in his usual, blunt, overt way. She would think him too weird, too… uncool!

Instead, he collected a few pictures on various websites, of cute drake hatchlings and smiley faces, to send to her throughout the day. How many eyes did Dr. Alphys have? He originally thought to just go with a big smiling skull, maybe, and label it “HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL!” Happy! He was going for happy. (Or perhaps “slightly less lonely, sometimes.”) But then he realized she may not be completely aware of the fact that his username was in fact very literal! Skeletons were quite rare, after all! He didn't want her to think he was saying “HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL: DEATH ” because while he was not skilled in subtle gestures, he knew that was the very exact opposite of what his intended message was! Though he supposed if they were on better terms and both aware of what was going happen (what might happen, he mentally corrected), it would be almost kind of funny! …and, wowie, he was terrible for thinking that it ever could be!

He would just send the standard yellow two-eyed smiley and hope for the best. Did she wear glasses? He was sure she did. He would draw glasses on it for that special touch he was seeking. If she questioned it because it turned out she didn't wear glasses, (Why would she?? He was overthinking this) he could say it was a pair of cool sunglasses… but… without the glass! Because they lived underground! And it was often too dark for sunglasses! Brilliant! Yes!

The Grand Papyrus: Social Media Mogul!

(Or he supposed he could just say the smiley was him and that he wore glasses. Not that she would ever even bring it up. And it wouldn't be a lie because he had discovered 4 months ago (or 4 months in the future) that he did, indeed, need glasses! It was eventually true! Technically already true! But he wasn't supposed to know it yet. So that made it a lie. But he did know it! So it… Wasn't???)

(He would stick with the first excuse.)

He was being silly. But… he was worried! The last thing he wanted was to upset her. He just… didn't want her to go away again. He felt responsible and this was so very important, and if the history only he knew had taught him anything, it was just how delicate these matters could be. He'd been very bad at this, as a king to his subjects. He hoped that he could succeed just once with this second chance. He didn't want to fail as a friend to a friend, however distant.

He didn't want to let Dr. Alphys down.

He'd perhaps been quiet on his end for too long, so he returned to the chat to give whatever thoughts he could, and to send her a video he found of a shark monster baby giggling. (It was adorable.)

ALPHYS:

* and THAT is why anime is NOT ‘JUST A CARTOON!!!!!!!’

He chuckled. Dr. Alphys could easily become a novelist. She had already penned three in the past ten minutes. He would have to scroll back and read this later.

COOLSKELETON95:

WELL

I GUESS I WILL BOW TO THE EXPERT!!!

I STILL DON'T GET IT

(ALPHYS is typing)

BUT THAT'S FINE!!!!!

YOU'LL JUST NEED TO SHOW ME!

SOMEDAY!

SOON!!

MAYBE WE CAN WATCH AN ANI ME TOGETHER?

IRL OR YOU CAN LINK ME TO THE BEST?

I WILL PROVIDE LIVE COMMENTARY!

IT CAN BE AN EVENT

THE WEEKEND IS FREE FOR ME!!

He had no idea if it truly was. (In fact, should history repeat, the weekend would be the last time he was ever free again.) Either way, any plans he had in place could be rescheduled, easily. This was too important. Perhaps… perhaps she would be there if she had a reason to be, however small. It was worth a shot.

ALPHYS:

*i need to check my schedule…

* umm… r u sure u want to?

* didn't you say it was for babies?

Oh no! Him and his need to constantly proclaim his very correct opinions!

COOLSKELETON95:

THERE ARE LOTS OF THINGS FOR BABIES THAT ARE STILL VERY GOOD FOR GROWN MONSTERS!

LIKE MILK! AND DEADLY SPIKES!

 

ALPHYS:

* ummmmm

* spikes!?

 

COOLSKELETON95:

OF COURSE! KIDS LOVE SPIKES!!!

 

ALPHYS:

* uh huh…

* and what else do kids and babies like?

Papyrus grinned at the opportunity. He had plenty to share on this subject! (It was also the perfect opening for all of the gifs he'd been hoarding. Dr. Alphys was going to be absolutely smothered in cuteness and positivity.)

At long last, he made breakfast. He settled on oatmeal pancakes. He’d seen the recipe on Undernet and it sounded delicious. (Plus, it was literally the only non-pasta thing he could think of that they actually had the ingredients for.) He knew Sans liked pancakes. He’d never eaten them at home before, not since… well, not since the event they did not speak of. Years later, after the coronation and the move to the castle, Sans sampled pretty much everything the kitchen had on the menu, and quite a bit they didn’t, before falling into routine. He always ordered pancakes when he was in a good mood, and Papyrus wanted Sans to be in a good mood! And to have a good day! A nice, lazy, day! A day full of bad jokes and no responsibilities! He never thought he would want just that for his brother, but he’d worked so hard for so long… even if he likely didn’t remember it, Papyrus would reward him!

…He was so glad he wouldn’t remember.

Sans had his moments where Papyrus worried for him deeply, (he’d always been a bit... ‘fragile’ was the term they'd told him so long ago, and Papyrus had certainly noticed his older brother’s ever-darkening moods and the lengths he went to hide them), but he’d never watched Sans shamble about, never watched him so confused he didn’t remember what day it was, never watched him fall down. It was an awful thought. Sans was… Sans was really… really very strong!

And he was not going to cry a fourth time before breakfast was even started!

...He’d better hurry breakfast along, in that case!

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Papyrus listened at the door. He’d forgotten what a deep sleeper Sans used to be.

“...Sans?”

He listened, hoping to hear some sort of reaction. None.

He cracked the door open. “Sans, it’s time to wake up,” he called, cheerfully, voice clear, but nervousness evident in his wringing hands.

Nothing. He was trying to be gentle! He didn’t want to startle him! This hadn't been his ‘job’ since a few weeks following the coronation.

“Sans…”

Of course whispering wouldn’t do it either.

Papyrus crept into the room and tried gently nudging his brother. Maybe that would work better? It didn’t. How about a firm shake? …No. Okay. Papyrus was worrying now. Was Sans breathing? Technically they didn’t have to but--

“SANS PLEASE WAKE UP.” Louder, a bit more forceful, and… well he got a mumble out of him at least.

Papyrus tried snapping his fingers, clapping his hands, but without skin it lacked a bit of the percussive punch he needed. Stomping his boots (admittedly very lightly) next to the mattress failed equally. Papyrus felt familiar irritation forming in his ribcage, and he welcomed it back with open arms. It had been too long. A quintessential part of being a brother to this amazing ketchup-scented lump below him. Fine. This was war, and he was winning.

“SAAAAAAAAAAANNNNSSSS!!!!!!! WAKE UP YOU LAZYBONES!!!!”

Sans let out an undignified squawk as he rolled right off of his mattress and ended up lying face down on the floor.

Success! Victory!!!

“NYEH HEH HEH! BREAKFAST IS READY!”

“heh. five more minutes, pap. cmon,” Sans requested without even moving his head from the floor. That could not have been comfortable.

“NO NO NO,” Papyrus replied, wagging his fingers dramatically the way he remembered he used to. It was almost fun falling back into the old role. He hadn’t thought he'd be able to lecture his brother ever again! “I ALREADY LET YOU SLEEP IN!”

That got Sans’s attention as he rolled his head just enough to properly squint at Papyrus. “you did? you never do that…”

“NYEH! WELL, I WANTED TO BE NICE TODAY! I’M… ACTUALLY NOT FEELING WELL?” he explained, hoping that would curtail any more analysis of his out of character behavior. “I ALREADY CALLED IN SICK. BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOU CAN LAZE AROUND ALL DAY!”

Sans stood up with surprising speed,  considering the amount of movement he’d done so far this morning. He reached up to place a hand on his Papyrus's cheek. “you’re sick? w-what happened?”

He sounded almost panicked.

Papyrus backed out of range of the hand, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the sudden touch, then moved towards the stairs. “WE CAN TALK AT BREAKFAST!” He wasn’t going to let this gift of a day get caught up on the details. Sans didn’t need to be fretting over his health! He’d done enough of that lately! Or, in the future. Potential future? Didn’t matter! (At least not yet.) “I MADE PANCAKES!”

“...pancakes?” The older skeleton repeated with a croak. Sans hadn’t moved, but Papyrus was already in the kitchen.

After a moment, Sans took a shortcut to the table. “LAZYBONES!” Papyrus wouldn’t lecture beyond that, today. He… wasn’t sure of the exact nature of Sans’s own health problems. Sans had always brushed off his questions (which had bothered him much more when he hadn’t realized Sans might ultimately end up the healthy one!), but he remembered the way it had hurt for him to even move. He was fine now, and it was easy to forget what not-fine had felt like, but just because he was fine didn’t mean Sans was! A little empathy and the benefit of the doubt could never hurt.

They both sat down. Papyrus waited for Sans to eat before he took a bite. It was taking longer than he’d expected.

“i was kinda expectin spaghetti.”

Papyrus felt his face fall. “I THOUGHT I WOULD MAKE SOMETHING NEW INSTEAD!”

Sans stared dully down at the meal, as if it had told him the one bad joke in the world he didn't love. “why?”

“I SUPPOSE I JUST… WANTED PANCAKES? IT SOUNDED GOOD! WE HAVEN’T HAD THEM IN… YEARS OR SOMETHING. AND I WAS… RECENTLY THINKING ABOUT IT. ABOUT HOW WE DON’T EVER HAVE THEM.” Papyrus couldn't completely hide his disappointment. “…DO YOU NOT LIKE THEM?”

Sans seemed to be studying him. Was it really so odd for him to make something that wasn’t spaghetti? He’d never really even eaten it! He just made it because he wanted to practice to impress Undyne, and because everyone claimed to like it, and because it was fun! But it turned out pancakes were equally fun! Less smashing, more flipping! Papyrus felt like flipping might be more ‘him,’ anyway. It was airy and spry and elegant. Maybe they should have pancakes every morning.

“...nah. sorry pap, i guess i just… didn’t expect anything different this morning…” Sans sighed, but then seemed to warm up a bit in demeanor and voice. “i love pancakes, bro.”

Sans slathered a thick coat of margarine on top of the first pancake, rolled it up, picked it up with both hands, then bit into it from the center. Papyrus stared. Was ‘mortification’ the correct term for this? It was so… uncivilized! Like watching one of the non MTT-TV channel’s reenactments of early life in the underground, before Home was founded. Absolutely barbaric. It was fascinating; he was somehow related to this gremlin.

“I REMEMBERED TO GIVE YOU A FORK, RIGHT?”

Sans chuckled. “this is how i used t’ eat ‘em back when we were kids. dunno ‘f you can remember that far back,” he explained with his mouth full. What Papyrus remembered was him being much more mannerly at the castle! But, then again, it wasn’t as if they ever sat and ate alone. There was always someone watching. (Another incentive to skip meals entirely.) Maybe the quiet judgements got to his brother more than he’d realized. If that was the case… maybe this was kind of… nice?

“I REMEMBER SOME THINGS FROM BACK THEN! BUT NOT THAT! WOWIE, SANS, THAT WAS AN AWFUL SURPRISE!” he chirped.

“hey quit ribbin’ me.” Terrible effort, obligatory groan... though Papyrus couldn’t keep his smile from creeping back into place, anyway. This was so nice! “‘sides, i owed you a surprise.”

“MY SURPRISE WAS A GOOD SURPRISE!” Papyrus bragged, only to hesitate immediately afterwords. “...WASN’T IT? YOU… DO YOU LIKE IT?”

Sans smiled and took another large bite into his mouth before replying. Wow. He was doing this on purpose. “‘s actually really good! i mean it. i uh… might even like it more than your spaghetti?” Papyrus caught the way he flinched as he said it.  He never would have noticed if he hadn’t already been looking for that reaction the second the spaghetti was mentioned. So far out of all the things today that struck a familiar chord, that was the worst.

He was lucky he’d practiced his charming smile for eight months straight!

“THEN THIS SHALL ONLY BE THE FIRST OF MANY WONDERFUL PANCAKE BREAKFASTS!”

“soooo… you said you were sick?” Ah. Right. This was going to be tricky. He didn't get sick. Not before, anyway.

“I WOKE UP FEELING INCREDIBLY DISORIENTED. I'M OKAY NOW, PROBABLY, I JUST…” Papyrus tried to think of what he would have said before this mess happened, only to realize the The Great Papyrus never would have taken a day off of work for a scary dream. The Great Papyrus wouldn't take a break because he felt a little woozy. Heck, The Great Papyrus wouldn't take a sick day just because he was sick! Of course, he wasn't The Great Papyrus. Not really. He hadn't been for quite a while. “I JUST REALLY DIDN'T FEEL RIGHT THIS MORNING, AND IT KIND OF… SCARED ME?”

It was, in a way, true. And the feeling he described wasn't one that was entirely unfamiliar to him.

Sans was silent for a moment, analyzing. Papyrus felt like he was one of Sans's old science projects, and Sans was trying to figure out which component had blown up this time. He seemed to come to a conclusion.  “that why you haven't eaten anything yet?”

“OH. UH… NO. I JUST WANTED TO SEE HOW YOU WOULD LIKE YOURS FIRST!” And that was the truth! Though it was likely Sans would not believe him. He was nervous, and when he was nervous, truth and lies sounded the same. It would be a very useful thing if it made the lies sound true! Unfortunately that was very not-the-case.  

“i told you, i like em a lot. it's your turn, bro.” Sans leaned over the table (getting his hoodie in some of the butter that was laid out for him) and nudged Papyrus's plate closer to him. “i know when you're sick your appetite tanks, but it's good for you. gotta keep up your energy.”

“I'M FINE, SANS.”

“uh huh. good call on the pancakes, too. pasta’s a little complex to break down.”

“THAT WASN'T WHY I--”

“and if you need me to take a day off and stay with you, i will. you know i will.”

“OH NO! YOU AREN'T GETTING OUT OF WORK FOR THIS! ONE OF US HAS TO GO!” Papyrus huffed. He wasn't sure whether he was annoyed or grateful that Sans thought he was so ill (or that he was using it as an excuse to get out of work, like old times). It was far easier than the truth, but he didn't want Sans worrying about him or his health at all. It was too much like that eighth month. Too painful. “UNDYNE IS COMING OVER IN A COUPLE HOURS, SO IF I DID HAPPEN TO BE INCREDIBLY SICK, WHICH I AM NOT, SOMEONE IS CHECKING IN. I WON'T BE ALONE FOR LONG.”

Sans smiled. “good, bro. that's good. but just…” Papyrus watched his brother's smile take on a slightly somber edge. “uh… just remember that 'll always be here for ya, so please, please tell me if you aren't okay. a’right?”

“I kn-- I KNOW, SANS! DON’T WORRY THOUGH, OKAY? I’LL BE FINE!”

Sans brought a half of his pancake to his face, but held it there, directing his eyes from Papyrus's face, to Papyrus's plate, and back. The younger skeleton took the hint and slowly, delicately, cut a small square out for himself, and ate it plainly. He wasn't much for syrups and toppings. A little chewy, but he liked it, and allowed himself a larger cut as he began to eat in earnest. Sans nodded and finally shoved the entire rolled pancake half in his mouth.

They ate in contented silence for the most part. Papyrus would have normally chattered on about capturing a human or new puzzle ideas, but he no longer had enthusiasm for the former and nothing to present for the latter. It had been a few months. There were other people to make puzzles. He had just been too busy with his kingly duties to indulge in such silly side projects. (His designs weren’t very good anyway. The human had walked right past all of them… What was the point?)

Sans finished more quickly, both because of his head start and because he had no qualms with shoving the entire final pancake in his mouth at once just to get a rise out of his younger brother. (Sometimes Papyrus hated this guy. He loved him dearly! But, wowie, did he hate him!) After it was done, though, he waited at the table to watch Papyrus finish eating, something which he also hated, (a different sort of hated), but wouldn't protest. He wasn't a babybones who needed to be supervised. He wasn't falling, wasn't dying, wasn't in need of any assistance. Not anymore. But if the roles were reversed, and Sans was so sick he wasn't acting like himself, and wasn't eating, Papyrus would be hovering far, far worse than his brother was. That didn't make the pancakes go down any easier, though. He hated this scrutiny of what he was doing (or who he was, or how poorly he was ruling, or how different he was becoming…). He felt so uncomfortable.

Eventually he finished up his plate and gave his brother a smile as Sans began to get ready as sluggishly as he could ever attempt to justify. Papyrus tried to ignore the constant glances in his direction from his brother. This had been nice and it was familiar, but unlike the call with Undyne which has given him a new spark of enthusiasm, this time with Sans was proving almost… draining. He couldn't quite place the reason. Papyrus loved his only remaining family more than anything on earth, and spending any time together was always a treat, but this felt… weighed down by something. Guilt, perhaps. He'd left him, after all. Falling was not a choice; it never was. Papyrus knew that. He also knew he would have never, ever made that choice if it was. And yet it still felt like he had chosen. Things had been rather distant between the brothers after the coronation. They'd been a team, in theory, but in practice they couldn’t have acted more seperately. Every interaction was tense. Both were liars. Both had deemed that the other couldn't know some painful truth. Papyrus didn’t want Sans to know the toll it was taking, and Sans tried to hide where his friends had gone. Neither was successful.

There had been so many things unsaid.

He'd never even said “goodbye.” Or “I'm sorry.” He’d never tried to grant him one last “I love you” or tell him “it’s okay.” “It's not your fault, brother.” He never told him how much he believed in him. He never let him know that he could rule without him, that he knew he could do so much better than he had. He hadn't even called for Sans when he was dying. He’d tried to spare him the worry, and… Sans had to have worried anyway. He must have been so, so worried.

And what if things hadn't gone back here after he died? What if he had left his brother with the weight of the kingdom, for the rest of his life? It could have been forever so easily. The fact that it wasn't was nothing short of a miracle. And even right now things were still tense and quiet and…

“SANS?”

Sans looked up, having attempted to put on actual shoes today, (a commendable decision!). They were a little small and required a bit of effort to tug on. It was hard finding sizes that fit comfortably without flesh.

“I HAD A S-STRANGE THOUGHT THIS MORNING WHEN I WOKE UP. I…” Papyrus braced himself. “IF I EVER FALL DOWN--”

Sans's sockets shot open as the lights dimmed out. His foot fell into place in the too-small shoe with a thump.  “what? papyr--”

“SANS I DON'T PLAN TO FALL DOWN, DON'T WORRY!” Papyrus soothed, but it didn't seem particularly effective. He couldn't blame him. This was not a topic they discussed, even after... everything. Especially after everything. This was not normal. It needed to be said. “JUST…  I REALIZED I'D LIKE TO COME BACK HERE. I'D LIKE TO COME HOME.” He tried to smile, but it didn't quite work as he looked at his brother’s expression. He hadn't seen him look this… was it worry? Fear? Confusion? Panic? All of those things? Sans had an impressive poker face, but that was long forgotten right now. Papyrus lowered his voice to continue as Sans stared at him in silence. “I know it's a difficult subject but the thought struck that we've never talked about this. And I'm not sure why I had that thought, but… just so you know.”

“bro, you… y-you aren't,” Sans seemed to have found his words, but they were shaky, even as his expression shifted back to a neutral grin. “you aren't gonna die before i do. c-c’mon. ‘specially not by falling down.”

“It could happen, Sans. Anything could.”

The lights finally came back into Sans's eyes, but he seemed reluctant to direct them at his brother. “yeah… yeah i… i'm glad to know if it… ever does, you know? but, i guess i don't like that you're thinkin’ about this kind of thing. y-you said you weren’t that sick so...” He attempted to shove his hands in his pockets as a casual gesture. He missed, settling for clasping them together, tightly. “what brought it up?”

“I just… I realized if it ever did happen, maybe knowing what I'd want would make it… easier? Or… maybe it would be comforting, somehow? I love you very much, and I want you to remember that, and I don't want you to worry about doing the wrong thing.” He tried to place his hands on Sans's shoulders. It was an act of encouragement he'd often done spontaneously and with great confidence. It was hesitant, awkward, and unpracticed, now. He only hoped it felt genuine beneath that, because it was, perhaps more than it had ever been.  “Nothing could be the wrong thing.”

“...thanks, pap.” It sounded almost like relief.

“No problem, Sans.”

A pause.

“…what would you…” Sans’s breath hitched.  “if that ever happened, which it won't, but…  what would you want done with the… with… with the d-dust?”

Papyrus stopped to think about it. He'd never thought about it before. His ruminations earlier had never gotten to that point. It hadn't really been relevant to anything he had experienced. He supposed it never would be. “I don't really have a preference?” He smiled gently. “Whatever would make you happiest.”

Sans looked like he was about to cry. Papyrus was surprised he wasn't crying himself. Yet, anyway. It was coming. Hopefully Sans would be out of the house by then!

It seemed Sans may have had a similar idea, because he started to make his way the door.

“thanks, pap. not really something i expected to talk 'bout this morning but… yeah. thanks. for lettin’ me know.” Sans made a sound of clearing his throat. It was entirely symbolic, but it seemed to help all the same as his posture and expressions returned to normal. Papyrus hadn't even noticed how Sans had been scrunching up on himself until it was corrected.

“...anyway bro, you better rest up,” Sans began with care, before a devious edge crept onto his smile. Papyrus felt a scowl preemptively make its way onto his features. “feel brother!”

Awful. “SANS THAT DOESN'T EVEN SOUND LIKE ‘BETTER.’ IT'S NOT EVEN CLOSE.”

Sans’s grin only grew wider. “sorry if my puns bug you”

Papyrus growled. “GET NEW MATERIAL.”

“you sure that’s what you want, bro? a suggestion like that might be ill -advised.”

Papyrus grumbled incoherently under his breath as he tore off one of his gloves and attempted to lob it at his terrible brother. He missed.

“heh, bro, think you could repeat that? i think it flu right over my head.”

Oh, Papyrus was very happy to oblige that request. This time the glove hit it’s mark, landing open across Sans’s face with a soft pat. Another victory for Papyrus!

Both brothers laughed at their silly game, before Sans gave some final encouragements to take it easy and vanished into thin air. Even with the ability to instantaneously appear nearly anywhere in the Underground at will, he’d still run late. Papyrus would let it pass without comment… but only for today, in light of… everything. He would not go soft on Sans after this, however! That was how he showed he cared! (And that duty had slipped by over the last few months.)

That had gone well!

Papyrus gathered up his gloves from the floor, and returned them to their rightful place. Task complete!  Sans was at work, Undyne wasn’t due for another hour or so, and Alphys had gone to take a long nap. There was no more breakfast to make, no more pressing questions to answer, and he had stockpiled enough cute gifs and virtual greeting cards to last the week.

There was no sentry duty for him.

No puzzles to calibrate today.

No kingdom to ruin…

no flowers to overwater…

...no subjects to let down…

The former king sighed. His shoulders and smile dropped in sync with it.

The excitement and giddiness from earlier was quickly fading away now that he had no novelties to entertain him. He was already tired, and… and… but… it was only an hour. Everyone would be back. Everyone would be back. It was only an hour and everyone would be back…

Everyone would be back. Everyone would be fine. This would be different. He kn-- he… believed. He believed this could be different.

He had to.

Papyrus was not naive. Even after eight months of hell, he didn't look back at his younger self and see nativity. The fact that believing was harder now was a flaw of the present, not an improvement on the past. There was no use in being cynical, but… he was so worried, and it was tempting to accept the worst was going to come already and save himself the heartache later.

He’d just missed this all so, so much… It was all so perfect. Everything was perfect. Everything but that one thing that just didn’t fit. And because of that, he was scared it was all a dream, or a mistake the universe was planning to correct at any moment. He didn’t know why this was happening and how he could make sure it kept happening and it didn’t just all go back or go away… He wanted things to stay like this!

But it was hard to ignore the possibility that it might be impossible. After all, something was wrong already…

Him.