Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ebott’s Finest Dolls was not a place to be on a Sunday minutes away from midnight.

The abandoned doll factory left in the suburbs just outside of Ebott had to be the quietest place on the planet. No one in their right mind ever went there, not when the structure was on the brink of collapsing and there were doll heads and cloudy glass eyes scattered about. This is what kept security guards from ever accepting a job at this place. It's what kept the usual rebellious teens away. The stillness of it.

That’s why you loved it here. You weren’t exactly in your right mind to stay away. Not when there was shit to discover.

Granted, you probably didn’t have the tools necessary to steal anything bigger than a piece of rusted sheet metal, but that’s not what you were here for. Well, yes, the sheet metal, but there was a ton of other good shit that the journal said you needed.

Right, the journal! You swung your backpack off your shoulders and placed it gently against a crate. The journal was black leather, the insides filled to the brim with black, blue, and red ink in markings that seemed to make up a secret language. You had found it resting near the opening to a cave, the very same cave that led to a dangerous opening that many had fallen victim to. Ha, fallen. It's said that those who fall die the same. They either fall trying to climb back up, or lose themselves to the series of caves underneath the mountain.

When you came to visit an aunt many, many years ago, the opening in the mountain had been like a void that beckoned to you. With your aunt keeping a vice grip on your arm, you had no way of falling. But as you two had made your way back to her car after that hike, you had fallen behind to admire the scenery and spotted something dark against a leafy floor of reds and yellows.

The journal.

Without telling your aunt, you crawled into the backseat and flipped through its pages while your aunt talked over the phone with her friend.

The symbols were strange. Hands, faces, crosses, even a mailbox for fucks sake. How could one possibly know what this meant? Google knew, that’s for sure. And after a few months of deciphering the thing… it still made no sense. But that was years ago, before you applied to Ebott University and majored in mechanical engineering, only to find out years later that most of the translated writing was mostly mathematical, scientific, and some other weird stuff that made it seem like magic.

At that ripe age of twelve, that last magic stuff that took a majority of the journal made your head hurt. Logically speaking, magic did not exist. It was the stuff of myth, just like the monsters who harnessed it.

But then the myths came true, and suddenly that doll factory looked damn appealing. 

Monsters had freed themselves from the mountain with the help of that child ambassador. A few years later, the world was gradually integrating magic into daily life. Before, magic was believed to be dangerous, and even your mother had warned against it in hopes you would obey. You did not. Nowadays, some restaurants feature magical foods that make human bodies do weird and cool things. Grocery stores now held foods with magic catered to anyone who needed, wanted, or craved it rather than just monsters, and monsters were more than happy to share and educate humans about their magic.

That being said, the notes started to make sense the more you opened your mind to the knowledge previously unknown to humans. And now that they made sense, you could finally start on the machine the mysterious owner of the journal had been trying to build.

You held the original in your hands, turned the cover, and stared at the dark ink. You had already memorized what each symbol translated to in the English alphabet. W.D. Gaster. What a cool name, huh? You placed it on top of the crate and pulled your translated copy beside it, a college-ruled notebook that had a Sesame Street sticker your younger cousin took the liberty of sticking on the cover. During your first few visits, you had found a raggedy broom in one of the supply closets one of the cleaners must have used before. You found it again, sweeping the dirt and debris away to make it safe to sit on the ground without needing a tetanus shot. After kicking at one final glass doll eye, you sat next to the crate and began to read through your notes.

Initially, you had believed the machine to be some sort of energy source, and essentially it was. It was capable of converting geothermal energy into magical electricity. But, the journal had described, it could also recycle that magic, which could essentially provide unlimited energy. Theoretically, of course. Some of the math was flawed or senseless, as if the owner chose not to apply his math or science to the real world without making hundreds of exceptions. But that was just it, you had already concluded that the owner wasn’t even human. Gaster- you had begun to refer to the journal by its owner’s last name- is a monster. Or at least he had been, before losing the journal.

You had found that journal years before the monsters freed themselves from the underground, and yet somehow it had come to your possession somewhere outside that barrier, to which monsters had no access to. It was strange, but that curiosity had redirected itself to the notes inside rather than the origins from which they came.

After scribbling down an illegible list of stuff you decided to start with, you left the journals on the crate and started roaming around the factory, flashlight in hand. The factory itself was huge, to say the least, and had multiple stories. But for fear of it collapsing, like your aunt had warned when it had first been left to rot, you kept out of the second and third floors just to be safe. For now, at least.

With a wrench and your multi-bit screwdriver, the only thing that could stop you now was a nut or bolt bigger than the size of your tools. No big deal.

The six other times you had come here to test who else was visiting the factory was by setting up small strips of tape in certain places and checking during the next visit if it was broken. You also did some research and learned that no one wanted to work here to keep it safe from bandits like you. Mostly because of how unsafe it was deemed. No biggie. No big deal at all. Haha.

There was a big machine that you later learned was the furnace meant for the traditional ceramic dolls. Of those things, you were not a stranger. Lined along some of the racks were cracked, eyeless dolls with faded skin and molded, ceramic hair. It took everything against your better judgment to not raise your wrench and send the heads flying. Your mother had brought one of those things into the house in hopes of getting you into them, but despite the frilly dresses you genuinely thought looked nice, those unblinking glassy eyes were unsettling in every way.

No matter. The furnace was rusted and no doubt the screws that kept it together would also be tough to remove. There were a few things inside that you needed. Mainly the heat exchanger and the burners, seeing as how buying them new wasn’t something you wanted to do. You made a mental note to bring vinegar next time to see if it did anything with the rust.

After moving on to the next few machines, a shifting shadow in the hallway a few feet away from you caught your attention. Your blood turned to ice as you turned slowly to face it, aiming the beam of your flashlight toward it. Oh, it was just the tape. The tape… that was blowing in the breeze. You cursed silently, praying that your mind would stop conjuring up images of a murderer slashing down the tape to get through. No, it must’ve been an animal, right?

How had you not heard anything earlier? Fuck, this was way scarier than you first thought. You moved closer as if possessed by the first dumbass to die in every horror movie and aimed the flashlight at the hallway.

Empty.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you spun on your heel, only to crash into something solid, tall, and very much alive.

Before a startled scream could make it past your lips, you felt a hand grip your shoulder and another over your mouth. Oh, stars, this cannot be happening right now. The other person had a tight grip on your shoulder, and in that moment you decided to bite the assailant's hand, but they spoke before you could make your decision.

“Don’t scream,” he said, his voice strained, and then in disgust, “did you just lick my hand?”

You did lick his hand, but only later did you realize what you licked was not skin, but bones. When the assailant took his hand off to wipe it on his sweater, you took many steps back, screwdriver in hand as a makeshift weapon.

You got a good look at him with your flashlight pointed straight at him. For one thing, the bony hand made sense. This guy was a skeleton. A tall skeleton with an eyepatch over his right eye, and the other eye bathed in a pale pink light with a small dark pupil. If his eyes didn’t make him look crazy, the fangs with a cigarette hanging out definitely did.

It took everything in your power not to scream again. “Who are you and what are you doing here,” you finally said, brows knitted together as you watched him take the cigarette out only to crush it on the ground with the toe of his shoe.

“Pa- Cash,” he said. You caught that first mistake and hoped it wasn’t for the sake of keeping his real identity secret. “My cousins call me Cash.”

“Okay, Cash, why are you here?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he said with a scoff. You wanted to laugh when he said that, ‘cause he just told you his name. “What are you gonna do? Call the cops? What’ll you say when they ask why you were here?”

He had a point. Maybe you could lie. “I’m here to hunt ghosts.” Fucking smart, you deserve a medal. “Ghost Hunting. For ghosts. Hunting them.”

“Ghost hunting,” he repeated.

“Exactly.”

“That’s fucked up.” He narrowed his socket at you, crossing his arms. “Why do you want to hunt ghosts? To keep them captive in a zoo or some shit?”

You drew your eyebrows together in confusion. “To help them cross over. Why else would I be ghost hunting?” Why were you elaborating on something you weren’t even doing? What would he say when he noticed you had tools meant for assembling and not ghost hunting?

“What are the ghosts crossing?”

This was getting confusing. Did monsters not know about ghosts? After a few silent seconds, the truth hit you.

 “OH!” You dragged a hand over your face. “Some monsters are ghosts. Right. Forgot. I see your confusion.”

“Duh,” he said, laughing as he rolled his pupil. He sounded like he was mocking you, even as he frowned and asked, “Why would I be confused?”

Oh boy.

It took about an hour to fully explain the concept of ghosts to him. You even pulled out your phone to show him real ghost hunting videos, showing him that people did it for fun and others for a living. The two of you had ended up seated on a stack of metal beams left in the hallway. For a moment you debated your sanity. You came here intending to salvage the factory's equipment for parts, only to explain the concept of ghosts and spirits and ghost hunting to a skeleton monster who you should’ve been wary of. He was a stranger after all. You would’ve been dead in the eighties, that’s for sure.

“So, you’re not hunting them, you’re just trying to prove they exist,” he said slowly, as if trying to make sense of his own words. You nodded as he scratched at his cheekbone with a disinterested glance at you. “That’s gotta be the dumbest thing ever. Ghosts do exist, always have.”

You shrugged one shoulder. “Okay, but those ghosts you’re talking about aren’t human. I’ve seen plenty of ghost monsters, but never a human ghost."

“Still stupid.” He glanced at you, his hand reaching into his pocket for something. “Is this what humans do with their lives? Do you do this for a living?”

“I don’t have to answer that."

“Ghost hunting.” He laughed, removing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “So, human ghosts aren’t like a common thing up here?”

“Dude, no,” you said, but then something else crossed your mind. “How do you not know about this? Monsters have been up for a while now.”

“I’ve only been here for a week, dude , ” he said, slouching against the wall. But he quickly straightened himself when he realized what he said, as if he’d said it by mistake. “I mean, uh, I-”

“Oh, you’re a Newcomer? That makes sense.”

He froze. “Sure,” he said, relaxing again. “That.”

It made perfect sense. Newcomers were a population of the underground that still feared the surface or didn’t want to come up too fast. They waited a bit for the commotion to die down before they joined the other monsters up on the surface. It was quite common for a monster to be seen still adjusting, and they were deemed Newcomers to let others know to be patient. It worked well.

“A week, huh? You mentioned cousins earlier. Are you staying with them?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, I am. That’s, uh,” he paused and cleared his throat, which only pushed a barrage of new questions to the front of your brain. “That’s the reason why I’m here actually. It’s all… overwhelming. They're overwhelming.”

“I get that. Family can be overwhelming.” He lit a cigarette.

That’s how you two ended up talking for hours into the night. He seemed closed off at first, hesitant to share anything about his family at all. You would talk about your family struggles, and he would open up more when he related, offering up a comment or two. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. He didn’t reveal too much about himself that’s for sure. Eventually, he went on to complain about one of his older cousins, a stick-in-the-mud skeleton who was too competitive and hated jokes and pranks and anything fun.

“If you met him, you’d hate him. Trust me,” he said with laughter, smoke pouring in wisps from his teeth. His laugh was a nice sound to listen to. It was slightly scratchy or raspy, in a pleasant way.

You laughed in response, elbowing him softly. “Hey, what if I’m into stick-in-the-muds?”

“I’d say you need a mental evaluation,” he said as he elbowed you back, albeit a little too hard. You could feel the sharpness of his bony elbow underneath his sweater sleeve. “Nah. Black hates humans. He thinks they’re weak. And dumb. And a bunch of other insults I don’t care to remember.”

“Tell him you met a ghost hunter at an abandoned doll factory. I’m sure he’d love that.”

“Yeah, actually, I’d rather not,” he said, turning away to blow a cloud of smoke.

You paused, curious as you asked, “Why not?”

“They don’t know I’m out here,” he said with a shrug. “So, if you run into a skeleton asking if you met anyone named Cash last night, I’d say don’t be a snitch.”

“That’s the type of stuff serial killers say.” You bark out a laugh as he dragged a hand over his face. “Yeah, I’m sure a bunch of skeletons are just dying to ask me if I met you last night.”

“Was that a pun?”

“What part?’

He started to laugh. “You’re the worst ghost hunter I’ve ever met. You haven’t hunted a single ghost since you’ve got here.”

“The only ghost hunter you’ve ever met.”

“Right.”

You stood up and he joined you. Talking with him had been fun, the conversation flowing with barely any awkward pauses. You checked the time on your phone, realizing you only had three hours of sleep before you had to be up and ready for work. Cash was busy examining the creepy ceramic doll heads arranged on stacked trays by the furnace. He grabbed one and turned to you.

“Heading out, dollface?”

You roll your eyes as you nod. “Yeah. Ghost hunting will have to wait until next time.”

“Your welcome for the interruption,” he said cheerily, waving the baby head at you as you walked to your belongings on the crate. “I think I’ll stay here a bit longer.”

You packed away your screwdriver and both journals, thanking the stars he hadn’t mentioned them or noticed them. You put your backpack on and turn to him, the beam of your flashlight bathing him in yellow light. He stared back at you.

“Well,” you said.

“Until next time,” he said, tossing the baby head on the top of the highest tray and cringing as you heard the crack of ceramic. “Say, what does a ghost hunter need a wrench and a screwdriver for?”

You shrugged as you opened the entrance of the factory and glanced back out into the darkness of the desolate parking lot, biting on the skin of your cheek as you struggled to think of a proper excuse. “Interrogation tactics. Gotta make ‘em fear you.”

“Geez, now I feel bad for the ghosts. Whatever, see ya later, dollface.”

You look at him, only now realizing how out of character it is for you to be making friends in abandoned places in the middle of the night with no one around to hear you cry out for help if anything happened. But nothing bad happened. If anything, the worst part would be the fact that you had spent the night making friends instead of starting on that project of yours. Shit. Whatever.

“See you later, Cash. Next time I’m putting your ass to work, though.”

He barked out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Someone’s gotta hold the net for those ghosts,” you said as you waved goodbye.

Yeah. Hopefully, he won't be there next time, though. You had to start on that machine eventually.

Chapter Text

Wake up!

You forced your eyes open as a jolt traveled throughout your body, your skin prickled as your eyes adjusted to the harsh lamplight overhead. How long have you been asleep? It must have been a while, judging by the smudged ink on the pages of your science journal, ruined by the drop of drool.

You cringed, wiping your face and running a tired hand through your hair. Had you had the chance to get some sleep last night, you would have put more effort into it. You felt like hell, but your meeting with Cash last night had not been unwelcome.

Still, you hoped that when you returned to the abandoned doll factory, Cash wouldn’t be there again. Maybe he’d find a different spooky place to hang around. Besides, how likely would it be that he would return to the same place twice in a row? You hated statistics, so you didn’t bother with that probability, but the thought remained at the back of your mind.

You took a moment to adjust your wrinkled lab coat and safety goggles, wondering distractedly if they had left imprints on your face. Your boss was supposed to be in a meeting with another colleague of hers, which was good because then you wouldn’t have to explain your sluggishness. You didn’t want her to walk in while you were dozing off again.

Because you had faked being a ghost hunter, you were just slightly behind on your ideal timeline with Gaster’s machine. Even with no immediate deadline, you mentally groaned at the idea of having to return and disassemble the furnace when you could have done it last night.

As you continued working, your mind strayed to a few points you had brought up to yourself. The only reason you were at the factory was because no one in their right mind would fund something as strange as whatever Gaster had been trying to build, something foreign and quite possibly dangerous.

Despite your pay having gone from that of a student researcher to a full-fledged engineer, you were being careful with your finances. You still had a few payments due before your car was fully paid off, and you were hoping your credit score was enough to land you a nice condo closer to work rather than your studio apartment half an hour away. Which meant you couldn’t afford to build the machine with brand-new materials or ask anyone else to pay for them. 

You couldn't afford to take any financial risks with this machine until you were fully settled, but your impatience was worse than a child’s. And that nagging voice in your head was bugging you again. Start on that machine before you forget about it. You grumbled to yourself and blamed it on your sleep schedule.

The creak of a door startled you into sitting up straight and you craned your neck to the side to see who it was, breathing out a sigh of relief upon realizing it was just your boss. Her yellow scales came into view as she and her colleague continued to speak, tones hushed and tense. You feigned disinterest, occupying yourself with the task at hand and removing your safety goggles. Alphys and her guest stopped at a distance near the flammable cabinet and you were finally able to see that her guest was a skeleton, one wearing a lab coat over a gray shirt.

You could already hear Cash’s voice whispering in your ear. I’d say don’t be a snitch . You almost laughed. As if sensing you, he turned. His eye sockets were wide, dark pits with tiny white pinpricks, watching you intently. His gaze made you panic slightly, and all you could do was give him a polite smile, nodding your head in greeting. That stare coupled with his strained smile made your skin prickle.

Still, he continued staring. Not at you, you began to realize, but behind you.

You turned, pretending not to notice as Alphys rambled on and you focused once more. What the hell had he been staring at? If he had been staring at you, you would’ve made eye contact, but you hadn’t. Weird . 

While busying yourself with something else around the lab (an ungodly amount of paperwork), you kept a close eye on him. He was on the shorter side, and while he looked entirely different from Cash, you didn’t rule out the fact that the two could be related.

You were sure, though, that this skeleton was related to the monster mascot, The Great Papyrus. You’d seen a few interviews of him on social media, and he even talked about his older brother, the former royal scientist, Sans the Skeleton. Still, you didn’t want to assume every skeleton you came across even knew of each other. As far as you knew, Sans and Papyrus were related, but that didn’t mean they knew Cash. But Cash had said he was living with a ton of cousins… 

Alphys called your name.

You turned towards your boss’s voice. “Yes, Dr. Alphys?”

“This is Sans, an old fri -colleague of mine from the underground,” she said, her claws rubbing together anxiously. Sans gave her a lazy wave, his stare distant even then. “He’s going to be around the lab a bit more often, so don’t be alarmed if you find him here on his own.”

“Of course,” you said. You turned to Sans, offering him a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

He blinked as if only just barely joining in on the conversation, giving you a wry smile in return. "Yeah, nice to meet you, too, kid.”

After an awkward beat of silence, Sans asked Alphys about their upcoming project, and you were left back to your duties. His unsettling stare remained present in your mind, and for some odd reason, you couldn’t shake it off. What was his problem?

You sighed to yourself. Throughout the rest of the day, you caught Sans staring at you a few more times, but every time your eyes met he would stare for a split second and then turn away as if nothing happened. When Sans moved closer towards you to begin rummaging through an olive green filing cabinet, you caught him glancing at you once more. With your patience worn through, you decided to face him. 

“Is there a ghost behind me or something?” you joked lightheartedly. 

He let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, uh,” he cleared his throat (you tilted your head at the strangeness of that, with him being a skeleton), “you just…” He trailed off, his gaze going back to stare at the space behind you. “Have you ever met a ghost?”

His question caught you off guard, and he seemed to notice your obvious confusion. “Human ghost or ghost monster?”

He thought for a moment. “Ghost monster.”

You nodded. “Well, I’ve seen a few. Why?”

“They tend to steer away from humans and kids and such,” he went on, and the confusion on your face became more apparent. “There’s also one part of a house they always stay out of.”

You paused to think for a  moment. What the heck is he talking about? “What part?”

“The living room.”

“That was god awful,” you said without hesitation, but you still let out an amused laugh.

When you grew quiet, he spoke again. “I would’ve said a skeleton pun, but I thought maybe you wouldn’t find it as humerus. ”

You groaned, chuckling even as you shook your head as if disappointed by his terrible pun.

“So, really,” you began this time. “Why were you staring at me?”

He shrugged, pulling out a file from the filing cabinet. “No idea, I guess. Maybe I did see a ghost,” he said, walking away. “Or something.”

After that strange interaction, your work for the day was finally over. When you looked around to say goodbye to Sans, you only saw Alphys huddled in her corner with the computer’s light reflecting off her glasses, which was weird because you hadn’t heard the door open at all. How had he left so silently?

Regardless, you bid your boss farewell and left the lab.

When you reached your car, your head was buzzing. To the factory? “Way too hungry to go right now,” you muttered to yourself. You put the key into the ignition and put your seatbelt on, raising your hand to fix the rearview mirror.

A dark figure loomed in the reflection, and a flash of a white face made you freeze. You turned quickly, your hand balled into a fist and ready to attack, but when you looked into the back seat, there was no one there.

You sucked in a breath, your heartbeat erratic.

Seconds passed, then minutes, and after triple-checking to be confidently sure that no one was there, you sighed. What did you see?

“It was probably a shadow,” you said to the silence. You laughed to yourself after that, sure that you were losing your mind. Talking to yourself, responding to nothing? Were you okay? Mentally, not quite.

After a much-needed nap and a long shower, you began to prepare for your nightly excursion. The same backpack as yesterday, the contents undisturbed. You also found something quick to eat along the way there, a small decorated cake and a large latte from an overpriced bakery near your old university. The spider lady serving you the food gave you a funny look as you had a staring contest with one of the spiders making your latte. Despite your fear of anything with more than four legs, you remained silent, your cravings for something sweet overpowering whatever concern you had about arachnids.

With a semi-tired groan, you lugged your backpack out from the back seat and held tightly onto the bag of food, careful not to spill your coffee despite your reckless swinging of bags. The entrance was closed, which made it seem like a good sign that Cash probably wasn't there. You went in, the flashlight’s beam streaming over everything in your surrounding area.

Silence. Emptiness. Perfect.

You set your bag down and took out the screwdriver, your mind going back to the list you’d written last night. If you didn’t get to disassembling the furnace, you could at least find a big enough glass eye. While glass doesn’t act as a conductor of electricity, enough heat could fix that issue. Your problem was finding one that was the right size as described in Gaster’s journal.

What you liked about Ebott’s Finest Dolls was that they always prided themselves in making perfectly spherical eyes, or at least they used to. If they hadn’t, you would’ve had to rely on marbles from the dollar store and melt them on a stovetop or something. If you had settled for that, the heat death of the universe would have occurred first.

As you turned towards the furnace with your flashlight, a movement caught your eye. You decided not to panic, considering that if it was Cash then you were at a lower risk of going missing. But after that thing you had seen in your car earlier, you were still a bit unsettled.

When you turned back around, you yelled out a curse. A white cat with big yellow eyes stared at you, its tail swinging lazily back and forth. With the grace of a startled toucan, your footsteps lightened to avoid making noise. “Hi there,” you cooed, kneeling and stretching out your palm. You let it approach you, praying it wouldn’t use your hand as a scratching post.

The cat moved towards you, its head nudging your hand softly to rest under your palm and you began to pet it softly. You let out a victorious laugh as the cat began to purr.

“Huh, she likes you.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a full second, your grip on the screwdriver tightening. You brought up dust as you spun on your knee, startling the cat as you kept looking for the source of that voice with your flashlight.

“Cash? You scared the shit out of me, dude.”

Cash rolled his only visible eye, approaching you and the startled cat. She meowed angrily at him but was silenced as his bony hand met the top of her head. “She’s my cousin’s cat,” he said. “Doomfanger.”

“Your cousin is named Doomfanger.”

“What? No, the cat.” Cash let out a dry laugh as you tried to defend yourself. “She follows me around sometimes. I look like my cousin I guess.” You wanted to ask him if he was talking about Papyrus, but you decided not to. “Why are you here again? There aren’t any ghosts.”

“Ghost monsters, sure, but human ghosts could still be lurking.” You approached your bag and put the screwdriver away, wondering to yourself why you decided to keep up with that stupid lie. Your mind eventually wandered back to Sans and his ghost pun.

“There aren’t any human ghosts either,” Cash said, his voice sounding defeated. “I tried looking, but the place is empty.”

“Human ghosts aren’t so easy to spot,” you went on. “So, uh, is your cousin missing the cat?”

He shrugged, joining you and rummaging through the plastic bag. He took out the small box and peered at it. “Probably not. He's been a heavy sleeper since he moved up top, so he won’t notice until morning. Hey, is this from Muffet’s?”

You nodded, and without asking, he opened the box and stared. “Sure, buddy, go right ahead,” you said, giving him a look.

“Gee, thanks, buddy .” No remorse. He took the single fork out of the bag and helped himself as you wandered around, deciding to leave both journals in your bag.

“Have you been to the second floor yet?”

He said he had, and asked why. You explained that your aunt had warned you of its fragility, so you stayed away from the top floors. “Is it safe?”

Through a mouthful of cake, he said, “Yeah, I haven’t fallen through yet, so I guess it’s cool.” You desperately wanted to ask where the hell the food was going if skeletons didn’t have stomachs to hold it, or if there was a stomach hidden beneath his clothes. 

He saw you staring and gave you a weird look. “I won’t eat it all,” he said defensively.

“Relax, I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“I need a glass eye, about this big,” you showed him the desired size by spreading apart your forefinger and thumb. It’d be about the size of a mandarin. “But most of the glass eyes should be on the second floor.”

He paused. “How do you know that?” When you didn’t answer, he continued. “And what do you need the glass eye for?”

“The ghosts.” You took the flashlight in your hand and began to walk over to the end of the hallway towards the staircase. “And I may also have copies of the floorplans.”

He didn’t follow you up, which you felt slightly glad about. Now you had time to think of an excuse as to why you needed a  glass eye for ghosts. Maybe you could say something about how glass helps you see them better, like glasses. “Hey, I have an idea,” you said to yourself. “Tell him you lied about the ghost hunting. Have him help you with the machine!”

Don’t be stupid. You can’t tell him . You groaned. That little voice was starting to piss you off.

When you reached the second floor, you realized that Doomfanger had followed you, the tag on her baby pink collar swaying silently. With a companion at your side, you went from room to room. A few of the rooms had dried tubs of ceramic paint, the walls covered in mold, and peeling paint in various places. Some of those rooms were meant for those who were dedicated to painting the faces of dolls onto their naked ceramic heads. One room was even full of miniature-sized wigs. You were sure the glass eyes had to be around there somewhere.

Eventually, you did find the right room, thanks to Doomfanger’s insistent meowing as she landed gracefully on a dusty antique drawer containing even dustier glass eyes. You took your time rummaging through the drawers, finding spare doll hands and even false eyelashes for the dolls.

“Wait, you seriously needed a doll eye?”

You jumped again, a string of curses falling from your lips as Cash began to laugh. “Stop scaring me like that!”

He scoffed. “No.” He peered over your shoulder, watching as you continued to look through the drawer of glass eyes. “Answer my question.”

“I need it for something, Cash.”

There! A big glass eyes, big enough to fit one of those horrendous life-sized dolls that probably sucked the souls out of the kids who received them as gifts. The iris was honey-colored.

“Let me know if you find any of this exact size,” you say to him as you pocket the eye.

“What for?”

You decide to let the truth slip in. “To conduct electricity.”

“Glass is a terrible conductor of electricity.”

“Not as bad when it’s heated up.”

“So why the glass eye? Why not a lightbulb?”

“I don't think lightbulbs are cool.”

Cash nodded as if agreeing with your statement. “So, is it really for ghosts? Or have you been lying to me?”

You froze, watching as Doomfanger licked one of her paws out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t have to tell him the whole truth. It was barely your second day knowing him, what happens if you tell him too much and he decided to snitch on you? You doubted he would, but you’d rather not risk it.

“It’s for a personal project. The ghost hunting is just a side hustle.” WHY WOULD YOU STILL LIE ABOUT THE GHOST HUNTING?  When you turned to face him, he was smirking.

And yet he was still waiting for you to add something else, but you were still lost in thought after the silence took over. He moved closer to you, his hand outstretched to reveal three more glass eyes the same size as the first one you found.

“Here you go, weirdo.”

“Thanks.”

You moved your hand to put them in your pocket, only to realize your jean pockets weren’t deep enough and you left your jacket in your car. “Uh, do me a favor and keep an eye on those for a while.”

“You’re terrible at making jokes-” he stopped abruptly but pocketed the eyes. He tilted his head at you and raised his brow bones. “I’m just now realizing I don’t know your name.”

You stared at him blankly and told him your name.

He hummed. What an underwhelming reaction.

You took a deep breath, inhaling a mound of dust in the process. Cash laughed as you coughed into your elbow, and when you calmed down you asked, “Any relation to somebody named Sans?”

Immediately you knew the answer because he went quiet and his head turned in your direction.

“Yeah. Uh, my older cousin.” He furrowed his brow bones, sitting down on a rickety old chair that looked years beyond repair and ready to give out any second. “Did you actually meet him?”

“He knows my boss.”

“Who’s your boss?”

“Dr. Alphys.”

He made a sound of annoyance, like clicking his tongue, and you wondered if skeletons even had tongues. You assumed they wouldn’t. “Oh. What the fuck do you do for a living?”

You shrugged. “Nothing illegal.”

He stared at you, clearly annoyed, then rested his chin on the table beside him. “Okay.  So as long as you don’t snitch on me. Are you close with him? Like buddies?”

You shook your head. “He was acting weird when I met him this morning. He kept staring at me the whole day and when I asked him what was up, he made a ghost pun.”

“A ghost pun,” he repeated.

You nodded once. “Yeah, it was a little weird. You’re not worried?”

“Nah,” he said, then quietly added, “not really.”

“Okay.”

You moved to a different room, trying your best to recall what the other rooms contained on the blueprints and floor plans. While they didn’t have the exact details of what the room might have been used for, it had a description of the materials. From there you could deduce what the room’s purpose was. Your memory was failing you. As you walked down the hall, you felt Cash’s presence behind you. Without turning, you began to hum and peered into the other rooms. “Was the cake good,” you asked him. You have yet to try it for yourself. You avoided touching a rusty open door with missing hinges as you leaned towards the door frame in an attempt to look inside. You wondered why Cash had yet to respond. 

You walked in, noticing the racks of tiny dresses made of cotton and delicate laces. They would have been an ivory white before time had turned them into yellowed husks, stiff with dust. A few dolls and mannequins lay scattered around the room, which was by far the longest one on this floor. Rows of tables containing old sewing machines and looms filled up most of the space.

You stole a few seconds to admire the serenity of this forgotten room. “Cash,” you called out. You hadn’t felt him enter the room, so you turned and walked out. You looked down the hallway, spotting his hulking figure not three feet away,

“Hey, are you good?”

Your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you approached tentatively. You tapped his back, feeling a startling iciness instead of his warm purple sweater. You pulled your hand back, eyes wide as you found them stained with something inklike.

I’m not Cash .

The figure turned around, revealing a bone-white face with melted features, a lopsided smile, and two dark cracks going up one pitch-black eye and down the other, one fuzzy white pupil staring straight at you. Your breathing grew heavy, your ink-stained fingers clutching at the fabric over your heart.

“What the fuck,” you breathed out, your voice wavering. “What the fuck are you?”

You know me. You hear me every day.

You shook your head, taking a few steps backward. Your mind was yelling at you to call out for Cash or even Doomfanger at this point, but that voice was insistent.

You did know that voice. You’ve heard it every now and then since you started obsessing over that machine not two years ago.

He stared at you. Unblinking. You know me .

You knew him. You definitely knew him.

“Gaster?”

Chapter Text

When was the last time you felt absolute terror? When you were so certain that there was nothing to be done, you stood frozen in place? It didn’t matter now. Not when he was standing close by. 

As Gaster continued to stare at you, your ink-stained fingers grew colder. You shook your hand as if to remove the cold, but to your shock, the black substance slipped off your fingers and fell to the floor with a splat . A startled gasp escaped from your lips, noticing the tinge of black that seemed embedded into your fingertips. No matter how hard you rubbed your fingers, the stain remained. 

Your eyes, struggling against the darkness of the hall, followed the blobs. They rolled and rolled, forming a slightly larger puddle and then melding into the inky pool that formed at Gaster’s would-be-feet, causing his body to ripple. The inky mass that made up the majority of his body had no discernable features, but it held him up well enough.

Gaster laughed. It sounded like falling boulders, or an avalanche. You shuddered.

Your mind was reeling. In reality, how would a person react in a situation like this? Because you certainly didn’t have a single clue. No matter how much you tried to say something, anything , your voice failed. If you had any sense of serenity in your body, you would have realized this situation was perfect . You could finally ask Gaster for help with the machine. Hell, you could ask him what he wanted the damn thing to do in the first place! But in what world did you think this to be possible at all?

No, this was bad. It had to mean something terrible.

You took a few steps forwards, eyes burning. You managed to stutter out a few words. “What happened to you?” 

A screech of radio static echoed in your head, your head pounding at the sharp noise. Was he trying to speak? His laugh had sounded so clear, but his words? The static continued as you stepped forward, but a familiar voice forced you to stop.

“Dollface?”

You spun around, swallowing the lump in your throat as your eyes met Cash’s in the dark. Could he see Gaster?

Without turning back, you walked casually towards him with your hands balled into fists, hoping he wouldn’t notice the ink on your fingertips and ask how it had gotten there. They were still impossibly cold, and you fought against yourself to keep that cold from spreading to the rest of your body. 

“Are you okay,” he asked, noticing your wild gaze. He put a hand on your arm for a moment and pulled back. “You’re freezing, dude.” Tough shit, you left your jacket in the car. “Why are your eyes so watery?”

You shook your head, ignoring his question. “Do you see anything weird down there?” you asked, nodding your head towards Gaster down the hall. Gaster’s smile stretched slowly over his face, the white bone melting around it. He tilted his head slightly to one side, his eyes squinting slightly as if trying to get a better look at something.

A high-pitched sound started ringing in your ears, causing you to squirm. You looked at Cash, selfishly hoping he would also see the looming figure. Hoping he could hear that god-awful sound.

He shook his head. “Nope.” The noise stopped.

“What?”

You turned back around, alarmed to see that he was right. Gaster was gone and the hall was empty. Your heart was racing.

“Oh, it was probably Doomfanger, huh?” You didn’t answer, a breath of air coming out of your mouth like an exasperated sigh. “How much longer do you need to be here?”

You shook your head indecisively. “I’m not sure. Not much longer I think.”

You were torn between two things now: Telling Cash what you saw, which would force you to explain why it troubled you so much since he thought you wanted to see the ghosts; or not telling him anything and dealing with it on your own.

You cursed yourself for your foolishness.

“We should go,” you finally said.

He followed you wordless down the hall, but you stopped at the door of the room with sewing machines. In any other situation, you would’ve spent the rest of the night here, especially considering how early it was. But it was midnight, already Tuesday. You had work in the morning. Obligations.

The floor creaked behind you. “What’s special about this room?”

“It feels quieter than the others,” you said distractedly.

“Bullshit.” Cash went in, taking deliberate steps to show just how noisy it was. The floorboards creaked in the most aggravating way, the type of creaks a house made when you were trying to sneak your way into the kitchen for a late-night snack and you didn’t want to risk waking anyone.

Every step was followed by a screech of protest, and you began to wonder if maybe the floorboards were weakened by time. Too fragile to hold someone.

“Hey,” you said, stepping closer to him, “I don’t know if it’s safe.”

“I’ve been up here a bunch of times,” he said, laughing as you glared. “It’s not gonna break. I doubt a human factory was built so carelessly.”

“It’s gonna break,” you said, stepping as close as you dared.

He jumped, and your heart raced as the creaking grew louder. He chuckled at your expression. “See? It’s not gonna- oh shit-”

You barely had the chance to grab onto his outstretched hand before the floor gave way and fell beneath him. The only thing you could focus on was the deafening sound of crunching wood. Your breath left as your brain struggled to process the feeling of weightlessness.

You had fallen with him.

Rotten wood, dust, and sharp splinters showered around you in the cold air, and you were fairly aware of the pressure around your waist and back. Cash was holding onto you as if you could stop him from falling. You almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Cash had fallen on top of a tower of moldy wooden crates, and you were on top of him. You scrambled as fast as you could off of him, wincing as you fell to the floor beside the crates.

Your eyes began to water and your legs felt weak as you tried to stand. “Cash,” you called to him, your hand waving away the cloud of dust that surrounded you. “Cash?” There was a cough as your hand felt his sweater.

“Are you okay,” you asked, taking into account the pieces of wood stuck to his sweater. If a big enough piece had gone through, would it be able to cut bone? How did the bones of a skeleton monster compare to the bones of a human, anyway?

“I’m okay,” he said with a weak laugh. “You really fell for me there, di-”

“Check your health,” you interrupted him between coughs, the dust finally getting to you as you shook him slightly by one shoulder.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he said after a moment. He managed to keep his composure, but upon seeing your worried expression, he burst into laughter.

“What now,” you said in annoyance. “Monsters need healing magic don’t they,” you went on, your words stumbling as he continued to laugh. You ignored him, raising your voice. “Do you know anyone? With that magic?”

He nodded, sitting up on the broken mass of wood and dusting himself off. “Yeah, I know someone,” he breathed out between laughs. You stepped off the crates, helping him stand with an outstretched hand.

It was then that he noticed the blood on your arm, a gash deep enough to require a good amount of stitches. His smile dropped, his single eye going wide as he stared at your wound. You had ignored the blinding pain earlier, but now it was flaring and raising every sort of alarm in your brain. At least you wouldn’t need a tetanus shot. Maybe. 

“Dude,” he said, catching your attention. “You need to see a human doctor. Or a-”

You shook your head and cleared your throat. “It’s okay, I don’t- hey, leave that.” Cash ignored you. He was putting all your belongings back into your bag and gathering all your things. “Cash!”

“Humans die if they lose blood, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as bad as it looks.”

After a moment of tense silence and a few google searches later, Cash was convinced you could die by morning. If not by bleeding out, then by infection.

You shrugged, wincing slightly. “I mean, some humans bleed pretty often.”

He gave you a deadpan stare. “You’re coming with me. To see that monster I mentioned earlier. She can help you. I think.”

“No. How the hell are we supposed to explain what we were doing?”

“I’ll make something up,” he said in annoyance, and his voice dropped a tad lower. “Or would you rather make up a shittier excuse when you have to show up to work tomorrow and Sans asks why you're dripping blood all over the damn floor?”

He got you there!

Your blood froze, finally gaining the ability to pinpoint who that voice in your head was. But Cash didn’t give you a chance to think about it for too long. He was already out the door.

You stayed in place for a moment, looking around in the darkness. “This isn’t over, you bastard,” you seethed in a whisper at the seemingly empty factory. There was a mocking laugh as you left, goosebumps on your skin. Something in your mind told you Gaster hadn’t left.

Outside, Cash was fussing with the locked passenger door of your car, pulling harshly at the handle. “There’s a button on my keys,” you said, watching as Cash lifted the keys and pressed every button until the door unlocked.

Doomfanger, having somehow spawned on the hood of your car without you noticing, meowed in distress at the sound of the car alarm.

“So do you want me to drive you to your friends?” Cash nodded, tossing your things in the backseat as you sat in the driver's seat.

“Yep” was all he said. He typed the address into your phone as best he could with Doomfanger in his arms and held it up as you began to drive. You tried to ignore the drip of blood on your arm and the itchiness of your wound.

Cash fiddled with the radio the entire time, switching the stations every few seconds. When you finally arrived, you marveled at the peaceful neighborhood. The house his friend lived in looked like it belonged to a grandmother. The garden was maintained, each and every flower tended to, and the grass trimmed evenly. It looked homey, lived in.

Cash didn’t get out of the car immediately.

You remained silent as you got out and opened Cash’s door.

Doomfanger meowed and pawed at Cash’s sweater zipper. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re staying, right? To get healed?”

You shook your head. “I told you already. I have work, and besides, it’s not even-”

“If you pass out on your way home,” he said, his voice growing louder. You could tell he was a little bit upset.

“Fine,” you interrupted. “If this is just a ruse to get me alone so you can kill me-”

“Why would I have waited so long,” he argued, climbing out of the car with Doomfanger latched onto his shoulder. “I could’ve just done it-”

“Stop interrupting me!”

“You interrupted me first!”

You reluctantly followed him to the front porch, sighing just so that you could annoy him.

“Does this look like the house of a killer,” he asked, nudging a garden gnome holding a welcome sign with his foot.

“Killers are allowed to have garden gnomes.”

Before Cash could knock on the door, it swung open. The two of you stood there, still as statues as you stared at… a kid?

The kid glared at Cash. “Why are you arguing so loud with your girlfriend? Do you know how late it is?”

Your eyes widened in astonishment.

“Where’s your mom,” Cash asked, ignoring the kid’s comment.

“She’s up in her library. We saw you out the window.”

Cash didn’t wait for an invitation, he gave the cat to the kid and pushed you inside with a gently placed hand on your back, your face flushing. “Lock the door, stupid,” Cash called out to the kid. Doomfanger meowed and jumped from the kid's arms onto the carpeted floor.

“I’m not stupid!”

Cash chuckled in response, leaning down to whisper, “That was the killer by the way.” He removed his hand from your back before you could say anything and led the way to what you assumed was the library. It was a room with no door, so you guessed it was a second living room turned into a library. A library you were jealous of. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the long walls, and each shelf was packed tightly with books and trinkets. This is the house you literally dreamed of living in as a kid.

“Hey, Toriel,” Cash said, and you realized he was greeting a figure lounging on a rocking chair in the corner of the room. The white-furred goat woman closed the book in her lap and stood to her full height. No way this was her. You felt dwarfed in her presence- hell, even Cash looked short in comparison.

“Cash? It’s quite late, what’s the matter,” Toriel asked with a look of concern on her face, and she spotted you standing behind him. “Oh my, who’s your friend?”

Cash gave you a brief introduction. "Uh, so basically-” Was Cash hesitating? “-we um, well I-”

You pointed your finger at your wound without catching Cash’s attention and Toriel gasped. “Sit down, sit down,” Toriel said, pushing an ottoman towards you. “I’ll be right back.”

You stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of whether you should listen to her and sit. But a wave of fatigue washed over you suddenly, and you decided to sit. You were cold, the blood was dark and beginning to dry, and the itch was driving you insane.

“Are you even allowed to have a girlfriend?” You looked up through bleary eyes and saw the kid from earlier, with another kid trailing behind. 

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” Cash said, shooing them away with a wave of his hand. “And it’s none of your business. Go to bed.”

The kid in the green shirt, the one who opened the door, gasped suddenly. They turned to you with wide eyes. “What the heck happened to you?” they asked in a whisper.

“She tripped.”

Before the kids could call bullshit, Toriel came in and ushered them out. “Both of you to bed. Now.” They began to protest, but Toriel was having none of it. They reluctantly left.

She passed Cash a purple pouch. He took them without a word and sat on the rocking chair, rolling out the contents onto his palm. He noticed your stare and held a small sphere up for you to see. “It’s monster candy,” he explained. “It heals you. You probably shouldn’t eat it until you’ve acclimated to it, though.” He popped one in his mouth.

In truth, you were acclimated to monster candy. But you said nothing.

Toriel kneeled before you, still managing to tower over you, and used a rag with alcohol to clean the blood and dirt around your arm, apologizing for the sting as if it were her own fault. The fabled green magic came into play when she set the items down and let her hands hover over your wound, green light surrounding it. The awkward placement of the wound prevented you from being able to see what exactly was going on with the magic, but you could see the green glow against her white fur as she smoothed over your healing wound.

You could feel the itchiness leaving, and the feeling overall was akin to the tingling sensation when your limb falls asleep. A numbness that was annoying, but not painful. When it was over, you smoothed a hand over the surface of your arm and felt the raised bump of a long scar, but it didn’t hurt anymore.

“Thank you,” you said weakly.

“It was no problem, child,” she said with a comforting smile. She gave Cash a stare until he got off the rocking chair and sat a few feet away from you. “Now,” she said to you as she sat down. “Tell me what happened.”

You glanced at Cash, looking for a sign that he didn’t want you to snitch, but he didn’t look at you. He was completely still.

“Cash and I were at this abandoned toy factory. One of the floors gave way and we fell through.”

“Can you promise not to tell Sans?” Cash said right after. Your eyes snapped towards him.

Toriel’s fluffy brows rose. “What does Sans have to do with this?” When Cash didn’t say anything, Toriel continued. “Cash, does Sans not know where you are?”

“He doesn’t know. And if he finds out his co-worker and I are hanging out in abandoned factories, and that I hurt her-”

Toriel raised a paw. “Does Sans not allow you to have friends?” Silence. “Is he still not allowing you out of the house?”

That last question caught you off guard.

“No,” he said reluctantly, glaring angrily at the floor. “He doesn’t. Listen, it was a pure coincidence that they work together. We just happened to meet. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“You didn’t hurt me, dumbass,” you cut in. “The floor literally collapsed under us.”

“Whatever,” he said in exasperation. “It’s still my fault. Sans is gonna be pissed ,” he said, then turned sharply towards Toriel. “ If he finds out.”

Toriel didn’t say anything at first. She sighed.

“Fine. I won’t tell him, but I cannot defend you if he discovers you’ve been going behind his back,” she said finally. “Of course, I am against his decision of forcing you to stay indoors until he deems it’s safe ,” she said with a grimace and a wave of her giant paw. “But he’s my friend. And I don’t want to lose his trust.”

You leaned forward. “What do you mean by ‘deems it’s safe'? Safe for who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cash said dismissively. “Just don’t give us away.”

“What am I giving away? I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

“That’s great,” Cash said, smiling wide so that his sharp teeth were prominent, “let’s keep it that way.”

He got up and left the room, leaving you and Toriel alone. You almost wanted to get up and follow him, until you felt a heavy stare keeping you grounded.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” It seemed that silence was starting to become common in these conversations. Long awkward pauses made you squirm. “I should get going. Thank you.” You noticed the coldness of your fingers, but you kept them balled into fists in case the ink was still there. 

“Is there a reason you wouldn’t want Sans to know?”

You considered this for a moment. “Privacy. He’s my co-worker, not my friend. He doesn’t need to know what happens beyond the workplace.”

Toriel smiled. “Of course, child. I understand. I ask that you be patient with Cash, though. The Underground wasn’t kind to him.”

You nodded, but something about that statement seemed off to you. You had heard about monsters not being kind to humans, heard stories about what had happened, but monsters not being kind to monsters? You couldn't remember anything about that.

Cash was waiting on the porch, looking at the stars. You joined him, closing the door behind you. You stared up, the stars burning bright against the dark sky. Alphys had told you about her first time looking up at the starry night sky. It had felt endless to her, as opposed to the crystal caves in her old home where she could still make out the outline of the stone walls. There were bounds they couldn’t go past. Out here everything was limitless.

But the sunrise was even better.  

“You good?”

Cash nodded slowly.

“Are you worried about Sans finding out?”

“No.”

“What did Toriel mean earlier? Do you have a curfew or something?”

“No.”

“So then why would you get in trouble?”

“I just would.”

“You’re being vague right now.”

“You can go home now,” he said, waving towards your car. “I thought you were scared of killers?”

“I trust you,” you said with a shrug.

“You’re insane if you do," he said with a chuckle. “We’ve known each other for less than forty-eight hours.”

“I get attached easily,” you whispered. He only shook his head in response, walking towards your car. You walked alongside him until you were finally at your car door. He pulled out your keys, unlocked the car, and handed them to you.

When it grew quiet, you tried again. “Why doesn’t Sans let you out of the house?”

“Stop trying to figure it out,” he said. “It’s not gonna work.”

You rolled your eyes, climbing into your car. Before you could close the door, Cash held it open. “Will you be there tomorrow?”

You probably wouldn’t, just in case someone heard the earlier fiasco and decided to call the cops or something. “I won’t. Maybe Wednesday or Thursday. Not tomorrow though.”

He nodded. Without another word, he closed your door and walked back to Toriel’s house. You sighed, stabbing the key in the ignition.

The only thing keeping you company on your drive home was the bone-white face with melted features reflected in your rearview mirror and the sound of radio static.

Chapter Text

The lab was cold today.

The ink on your fingers was still there.

And your expo marker was dry.

The lab needed to be cold, despite your boss's need to be in a warm environment to survive, because of the equipment. The ink wouldn’t fade or budge no matter how much soap- or bleach for that matter- you tried to wash it away with, so you hid it with vinyl gloves while you were at work. The marker problem was an easy fix, but you were distracted and so it upset you more than it should have.

You tossed it with the might of an army into the trashcan and rummaged through your desk to find another marker. Your notes were written in green ink on the whiteboard along the wall, but you would have to settle with the red marker you found.

“Hey, are you busy? I need to ask you something.”

Your eyes remained on the whiteboard, but you spoke to Alphys with half of your attention. You hoped she wouldn’t notice how tired you looked.

“I’m just taking notes from those reports you wanted me to take a look at,” you said, pointing at your computer screen and then gesturing to all the notes on the whiteboard. In truth, the reports strangely reminded you of the journal, the machine Gaster would go on about, even the way the notes were formatted seemed familiar. 

But if you wanted more information, you needed to play dumb.

“That CORE thing is pretty sick, huh? It’s crazy that geothermal energy can be converted to magic electricity. An endless source of energy, almost.” You turned to face her, but you didn’t look her in the eye. “Do you know who wrote these? The author isn’t credited.”

“Oh, these are translated, actually. From the former royal scientist,” she said softly, a hint of embarrassment as if she wished she had written them. “The script he wrote with is pretty difficult to understand, especially because it changes every so often. It took Sans and me forever to translate the first few of those journal entries.”

“Really?” You paused, pondering over her words. “So are there more? Ones you haven’t translated?”

“Yes, the former royal scientist had tons of journals and reports and blueprints, but like I said, his writing changes. It’s difficult to understand.”

“Is it written in a different dialect, or language, or-”

“It’s written in Wingdings,” came a voice. Sans was standing a few feet away, having eavesdropped on your conversation with Alphys. It would have angered you at first, but the name of the font caught you off guard. “By a guy named Wingdings Gaster.”

“Wingdings?” You tilted your head as if in thought.

Oh, you knew exactly what the writing looked like. You didn’t even need a translator to decipher the tricky script. Did this mean Gaster was the formal royal scientist, that he had designed the CORE the monsters relied on, and that you happened to be in possession of one of his journals? It made sense. The initials W.D. that were on the journal could have been anything, but of fucking course it stood for Wingdings, that was what the whole journal was written in. You made the connection early on when you first discovered the journal, but hearing Sans say it was Gaster’s true name made you want to smile like an overexcited child.

You could laugh at the absurdity of the situation had Sans not been staring right at your soul.

You stared back at him. “So, why not ask the guy himself to translate for you?”

“'cause he’s dead,” was Sans’ nonchalant reply. Your eyebrows shot up.

“Sorry. Have you, uh, finished translating all of his work?”

He arched a brow bone and his smile turned teasing. “You can’t be that interested in the small stuff, can you?”

You felt your face grow warm, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I mean it’s interesting stuff,” you said in defense. “This guy sounds like a genius. Is he-”

“Whatever you want to know about him isn’t important,” Sans said, waving a hand dismissively. “Or worth your time. I thought you came up here to ask if she’ll be in tomorrow,” he said to Alphys.

Oh, that’s right. Alphys had come in with a question, but you had selfishly taken up her time asking your own questions. The way Sans dismissed your questions and curiosity made your skin prickle. Did you get too nosy, was it a touchy subject, or was he just being an ass? 

“Sorry, that was my fault,” you said, trying your best to seem apologetic. “I started rambling.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Alphys said with a smile. “I was just wondering if you’d be available to come in tomorrow. I know you asked for tomorrow off since you got done early with our last project and you worked all weekend, but there’s this meeting I have to go to and Sans needs help with something in the lab-”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem, I can come,” you interrupted rudely, but only because of the dark shadow suddenly looming closer.

The man himself is right on schedule. You ignored him, though, as you had been ever since last night. There was no way you would feed into your fear by acknowledging him outright. But ever since you’ve been able to see him clearly, the painful voice in your head had stopped. Was that connected, or-

Sans was waving a hand in front of your face, calling your name, and you snapped your attention back to him. Your face felt like it was heating up, again. “You good? You look… out of it.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll be here around eight if that’s cool.”

He gave you a quick nod of confirmation, giving you a strange look and muttering ‘see you later’ under his breath as if he was trying to get away from you all of a sudden. Alphys is giving herself free rein over the notes you’d written on the board, so you choose to sit down at your desk.

“Hey, why did Sans say this stuff isn’t important,” you ask her, voice hushed so that Sans wouldn’t overhear. “I mean, I feel like if I do know more, I could even help you guys translate some of this Gaster guy’s work. It should matter if you’re having me write notes on his work. Right?”

Alphys starts to fiddle with her hands, rubbing them nervously. She pursed her lips, making her snout crinkle in a funny way. “Well, it is important ,” she stuttered out. “I think he means that you shouldn’t worry too much about why they’re important, or who wrote them.”

“Just read and write?”

“Precisely!”

You nod, but you can’t help but disagree. If you shouldn’t worry about why these reports are important, then why have you read them at all? Shouldn’t you know exactly what’s important about them in order to do your job correctly? You sighed. If you were doing a bad job, Alphys would have told you in a hesitant manner. She had yet to do so, which meant you were on track.

Four .

And you were wrong. His voice was back, echoing in your mind. You ignored it, mostly because it didn’t make sense. But also because, despite having your wound healed by Toriel, it was itching like crazy, as if just beginning to heal.

You scratch absentmindedly at your arm, nodding at Alphys as she leaves for her office, telling you to keep up the good work. You do keep at it, writing more notes on the wall and then again on a piece of paper. When you’re sure you aren’t being watched by Sans or Alphys, you print out the report you’re on and stuff it in your bag, hoping to find more similarities in the writing style compared to the journal.

Four .

And then you could get Gaster to shut the fuck up about that goddamned number. You confirmed with Sans that you’d meet him tomorrow, and he gave you an awkward wave. You discard the vinyl gloves on your way out, hiding the ink-stained fingers in your pockets. On your way home, Gaster is unashamed to sit in the backseat, and you’re forced to drive in silence because anything on the radio is completely static. It hadn’t even occurred to you that maybe talking to him would get him to stop. You were scared, to be truthful, and unprepared to hear what he had to say. If he had anything to say at all, for that matter.

Four .

But he was getting on your nerves, and once you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, they were fried. “What,” you snap, turning to face him. Hopefully, no one was looking at you losing your mind inside an empty car. “What the fuck does ‘four’ mean, dude?”

Journal . Four.

“Journal, four, okay,” you repeat, turning back around. “I’ll check it later.” Why the hell were you taking orders from a ghost? Whatever. You’d be able to think clearly once you took a nap.

You decided to stay true to your word, the factory visit would be put on pause until tomorrow, maybe Thursday if Gaster wouldn’t behave and Sans decided to keep you late tomorrow. You didn’t even know what he needed help with, you’d simply agreed to help. Maybe that would bite you in the ass later on.

The journal was in your hand, and Gaster was hovering over your shoulder. Whenever he was near, the air grew colder, as if you’d taken a step into a walk-in freezer. Fully naked.

“Okay,” you said, waving it in front of him. “Did you want me to look for a number? What does the ‘four’ mean, buddy?”

He stares at you, the static in your head dull for a moment. The pooling black mass was starting to travel near your feet, and you drew them closer to yourself lest they stain you. You opened the black leather journal, flipped through each page, but nothing related to that number stood out to you.

You saw Gaster shake his head from your peripheral vision, so you rolled your eyes and closed the journal. A sigh escaped your lips, flipping through it again, but Gaster shook his head. You flipped the closed journal in your hands.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed the back cover was marked. No, not marked, but… indented? Engraved? What was that damned word? No matter. On the back cover, there were grooves, an outline of something as if Gaster had grabbed a blunt object and drawn an invisible picture that you could see if you held it up to a light source and tilted it, just so.

Yes, there was something there, something small, almost unnoticeable. Shit, you’d gone more than half your life without noticing it. It was a symbol, and above it, the number four. The symbol, you knew it by heart at this point, was the number four in his font. Three lined pages stacked on top of each other. Four. 

Journal number four.

In your hands, was the fourth journal. And you hadn’t connected the dots until just now. No, you’d been too busy translating and rewriting, learning , and obsessing, to realize that this could never have been his one and only journal. There were at least four, you knew that now. But there could be tons, dozens even if you had learned anything about Gaster’s writing style over the years.

“There are gaps that Sans and Alphys can’t fill,” you said aloud, just barely registering the lack of coldness. “Because I have the fourth one.”

Gaster was standing in the kitchen, facing you, but standing tall with his head nearly touching the ceiling. He nodded. The static grew louder.

“What should I do? Do I tell him?”

The static dulled. He shook his head. No. Not yet.

“When,” you asked. When would there ever be a good time to come clean? “Are you and Sans related?”

Gaster didn’t answer. You pursed your lips, slightly annoyed. “Okay, I won’t tell him. But I’d appreciate it if you let me know when I cross any boundaries. You’re aware I’ve been trying to recreate your machine.”

He nodded. Small scale. Harmless . No magic .

“It’s the smaller version,” you said, clarifying. “Of the CORE? The prototype?”

He nodded. Smart girl .

You furrowed your brows, tossing the journal aside. “Whatever. Do me a favor and- Wait, can I ask you something? Now that you and I are, what, telepathically communicating? Linked?”

Gaster nodded, but you were unsure what he was nodding for.

“You’ve been with me this whole time? Since I grabbed your journal? Or when?”

Recently. Bound. To you .

Static. It was loud. Getting louder, in fact. But it wasn’t as painful, no, not as before.

“Okay. Can I assume you’ve given me decent privacy this whole time? Like, no creepy shit?”

His form shivered. I’m no creep.

You can tell it took a lot of energy to say that. “Okay, except when you creep over my shoulder right?”

His laughter again. The avalanche. The tension in your back was released as if a weight had been taken off your shoulders. The feeling of paranoia was there, not completely gone, but almost.

“You’re tired,” you said, and it was a guess. But Gaster nodded, his form dropping suddenly as if the invisible strings holding him up had been stretching too thin, ready to snap. It took energy to exist at all for him in that state.

“What happened to you?”

Tired . Not today .

Dearest lord, you were curious. You wanted to know. But you were also tired, and so you nodded, giving him a wave. His form disappeared gradually, and you took it as a sign that he’d left somewhere, maybe chilling in a void between his talks with you.

“See you later,” you said to the empty room.

Yes, true to your word, you did not go to the factory. You spent your time going through the report you printed out, taking your own notes on your whiteboard hanging on the wall. It took you the better part of the night until you collapsed on your bed and dreamed of ghosts watching you from dark corners.

In the morning, you arrived at the lab earlier than expected.

As you approached the building, your name was called out and you spun around to find the source of the voice.

Sans waved at you, his smile relaxed. Someone trailed lazily behind him, taller than him, but not by much. “You’re here earlier than you promised. You a mornin’ person?”

“No, not really,” you said, holding open the door for them. His guest stretched out an arm, his hand placed way above yours on the door. He’s holding it open for you, you realize, allowing you to go inside before him. But your ink-stained fingers were on full display, and you wondered whether he’d ask about it.

He looks like Sans, the same skull shape. You walk into the building, thanking him, and trail after Sans.

“That’s my cousin, by the way,” Sans said, not pausing in his tracks. His pace was relaxed. “Red, say ‘Hi’.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Red grumbles, but as you walk beside him, he turns his head to you. His eye lights are red, bright against those dark sockets. His teeth, you realize now that he’s smiling, are also quite sharp. Like a shark. One is gold. “How’s it goin’?”

You can’t help but smile. “Goin’ good. How about yourself?”

“Could be better,” he said with a shrug. “I ain’t a mornin’ person, either.”

“Uh, what do you have planned for today,” you asked, your question directed at Sans. He hadn’t mentioned he’d be bringing a cousin. You were reminded of Cash, suddenly, and the healed wound on your arm began to itch.

If Red was Sans’s cousin, then he was also Cash’s.

“Mostly organizing,” he said. “We’re heading to my office. We’ve got some inventory from the lab back in the underground that was finally cleared to come up.”

Inventory, from the lab. In the Underground . Would you be helping to organize Alphys’s things? If it was old enough, would you find something that belonged to Gaster?

“That’s it?” You weren’t about to complain, absolutely not. You loved organizing! But waking up early for this? Hell, at least you were being paid.

“It’s a lot. That’s why I brought Red. And asked Alphys to borrow you.”

“You should’ve brought Black,” was Red’s response. “ He’s good at organizing.”

That name rang a bell. You’d heard Cash mention him before, another cousin. Geez, it sounded like a lie at this point. Why all cousins? Or maybe skeletons just had large families.

You shoot Red a smile. “Black? Do you also have a cousin named Blue?”

“How’d you know,” they both asked, brows turned up in shock.

“Are you guys color-coded?” You paused in your tracks, and they stopped with you. “I was kidding. I’ve never met him, if that's what you’re wondering.”

Sans furrowed his brow bones, but Red began to laugh. It sounded rough, slightly scratchy.

“Black doesn’t know what the journals look like,” Sans said suddenly, and Red stopped laughing gradually to consider this. When he noticed your questioning gaze, he waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry, that’s not your job for the day.”

“What? Looking for journals?”

“Yeah, that’s Red’s job. You’re going to categorize and label things.”

“Sounds good,” you said, but your brain is screaming, oh, for fucks sake, let me look for the journals! I know the language, I know what it looks like!

You’d have to settle with the task given. Oh well.

You feel cold. Your brain is static.

And Gaster greets you with a lop-sided smile as you enter Sans’ office.

Chapter Text

Gaster was pooled next to you on the floor, watching over your shoulder as you rummaged through the boxes and made mental notes of what they each contained. Daily logs, printed-out reports on ancient yellowed paper, blueprints, warrants for someone’s arrest, and other miscellaneous documents that made you mutter “hoarder” under your breath.

Gaster jiggled at the offense. 

Sans and Red were dealing with other boxes, ones that looked slightly water damaged and dirty. Red grimaced at the state of them, rolling his eyes at something Sans whispered to him. With one of your earbuds in, it gave you a chance to talk to Gaster if need be. You could blame any secret conversations on the music playing that you were singing along to but, of course, there was no music.

Honestly, you expected way more. Given the number of boxes and how poorly they’d been packed with a lot of space in between, it didn’t feel like a lot. Organizing was your thing as a kid then, even if now your studio apartment was less than favorable.

The empty filing cabinet, courtesy of Sans, was readily labeled with what went where. Red and Sans spoke to each other as they worked, but you were actually engrossed in the organizing that you hadn’t bothered to eavesdrop.

Twice you had caught a glimpse of a leather journal, similar in style to the one you possessed. Red’s eyes would glow brighter, and he would toss the book to Sans. Sans would feel for the indents you now knew were etched into the back of the journal, but Sans would make a grunt of disappointment and toss it onto his desk.

“Are these your things,” you said in a whisper to Gaster. The static in your head buzzed and you heard his response loud and clear.

Not all. Some Alphys .

“Which is yours?”

Can’t remember .

You wanted to insult him, half-heartedly of course. But you felt he wasn’t ready to understand your humor just yet, and you didn’t want to face rejection if he felt you and him shouldn’t be friends at all.

So you nodded slowly instead and didn't push him to answer. All in due time.

The day dragged on, and yet not a lot of time had passed at all. The frustration was clear on Red and Sans’s faces as they kept organizing. Once, Red had left the office and came back with a McDonald’s Sprite, and you had to wonder how fast of a walker this guy was for him to be back in less than ten minutes. Twice, Sans had taken a nap in the corner against a stack of boxes while Red flipped through the pages of the black journals.

When Red’s phone rang, Sans sprang awake and asked who it was. You kept working, not wanting to make it seem like you were listening in on their conversations.

“It’s your brother.”

Red answered the call and started talking to him, and you made the best guess that it was Papyrus on the other end.

“Yo, what’s up? Yeah, he’s here with me. Woah, cool it. They did what ?”

Sans groaned, got up from the floor, and checked his phone that lay innocently on his desk. He cursed under his breath, then glanced at you and Red. “I’ll go take care of it. You two just keep working.”

You nodded, giving him a thumbs up.

Sans left the office while Red was still on the phone, talking to Papyrus and asking questions in a hushed voice you couldn’t quite hear from your spot. When he hung up, you waited a few seconds to ask.

“Are you good?”

He glanced at you then back at the box in front of him, nearly empty save for a single manilla folder that he pulled out and began to rifle through. “Yeah, just… family stuff. Why d’ya want to know?”

“I don’t,” you said automatically. “I'm just worried about him.”

“Okay.” He turned to you fully then, a sharp toothed smile on his face. You tensed. “Why? You got a thing for him or something?”

That was not what you expected him to say. And the shock was clear on your face, making Red laugh.

“I-I’m sorry? I barely know him. We just met,” you stuttered out, but to Red, it must have looked like he was catching on to a crush that didn’t even exist.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t like him,” he pointed out. He tossed the manilla folder to the side. “What’s it called? Love at first sight? He’s a real flirt sometimes with those jokes of his. Just make a pun and-”

“We’re co-workers,” you whispered harshly.

This conversation sounded vaguely like what you and your friends would talk about in high school. Crushes on boys and girls you were too cowardly to talk to, endless teasing on their part that you would return when it was their turn to crush on someone.

“So? He’s talked about you if that helps,” he said. You tense even more at those words, wondering what on earth he could possibly have to say about you.

You bit your lip,  closing the cabinet drawer shut. “What did he say?”

“Just that you were quiet, a little funny,” he said with a shrug. “Cute laugh.”

“You’re lying,” you said immediately, even though you felt your face heat up. “There’s no way you’re throwing him under the bus like that.”

“I don’t think that’s how you use that saying.”

“I don’t think what you’re saying is true.”

“Fair enough.”

“That’s a weird thing to start a conversation about,” you said after a moment. “Are you trying to be his wingman, or something? It’s not working.”

Red chuckled at this. “You are funny, I’ll give him that.” When you didn’t say anything, he held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’m sorry about that. I just thought it’d be funny.”

“This was psychological torment, Red.”

“Come on, it’s just harmless fun.” He laughed when you rolled your eyes. “Are we cool?”

“Fine. We’re cool” But you turned to face him again. It was as if your brain had been shocked by an electric current, an opportunity that burned so bright it could melt your brain and sever whatever connection you had with Gaster. “Make it up to me. What are those journals you’ve been stockpiling?”

“The journals?” He said  it like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, and when you continue to stare he chuckles nervously. There are drops of sweat forming on his brow bone. He glanced at the journals, and so did you.

“Do they have anything to do with Gaster?”

Oh, you’re being forward .

“How’d you-” he stopped to wipe his forehead, sockets narrowing ever so slightly. Were you being too obvious? Could he tell you knew something? “What do you know about him?”

“Alphys had me read some of his stuff yesterday. He’s a genius from what I’ve read. I was just wondering since Sans said this was stuff from the lab in the Underground.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but there’s a hint of relief on his face. As if he was glad you didn’t know more. You began to wonder if Sans had only brought you up to him so that Red would be suspicious. Did that mean Sans suspected you?

“Not all of these things are his,” he said finally, after some time. “Some of the journals are, but not all.”

You felt a coldness then, and the static returned. Just as you expected, Gaster was there, looming not over you, but over Red. Watching him with that lopsided smile of his. Red didn’t react.

“Have you ever met him?”

“No. Not really.” His eyes darted away from you. A lie? “And I don’t think it’s really my place to talk about him, either,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Why d’ya ask?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just curious. I feel like he’s a forbidden topic.”

“Something like that.” He tossed the journal onto the pile with the others. “Listen, like I said, it’s not my place. Sans’s my- my cousin, last thing I want to do is piss him off or give him a reason to hate you-”

“I’m sorry-” You began, but he cut you off. In your head, you think why would he hate me for that?

“No, it’s cool. Honestly, he’s all bark most of the time,” Red added with a small chuckle. “Don’t push him, but don’t be scared of him either.”

You don’t know what to say after that. And with Gaster looming menacingly- although now he’s joined your side instead to see what you were up to- you were scared to say anything that would make Red think you were weird.

You felt the coldness that surrounded Gaster envelop you, and it took all of your willpower not to yell at him to stop right then and there. But if he hadn’t done that, your focus wouldn’t have shifted to the little leather journal hiding under a pile of blueprints, slightly faded and torn with time.

Your skin began to prickle, and you reached over and picked up a few of the manilla folders, making sure to grab the journal under it. You position yourself differently so that Red wouldn’t be able to see what you were looking at, and you’d notice if he did. The journal is similar to the one you had back home, although it looked much… newer than the rest.

And it was. On the back, it had the number 27 etched on the back. But it was different.

There was no Wingdings translation of the number anywhere. Upon closer inspection, the leather wasn’t even the same quality as yours- Gasters. You opened it, flipping through the pages, and sure enough the writing was not at all Wingdings. Your heart dropped. The unexpected disappointment crashed into you in a way you hadn’t anticipated it would.

Without hesitation, you grabbed Red’s attention, waving the journal and then tossing it to him. “Is this one of the journals you were looking for?”

“Yeah,” he said, and you even noticed the look of disappointment on his face when he started flipping through pages only to notice it wasn’t what he was looking for. But he hid it well, you’ll give him that. He tossed it onto the growing pile. The feeling of guilt settled in the pit of your stomach.

You had the fourth journal. You had no idea how vital it was to their search, but you had it anyway. And Gaster instructed you not to say.

Sans still hadn’t returned by the time you and Red were done. You stood in the office, side by side, looking at the empty boxes and filing cabinet that was now filled and organized.

“Well,” you said.

“Yep.”

“I’ll see you later.”

He nodded, and you left. Gaster followed you all the way home, his form not wavering once.

—

Sans and Red:

“You guys finish fast.”

“She’s pretty good at organizing.” Red had just woken up from a nap, too tired to take a shortcut home and collapse on his bed. Sans’s office chair worked just fine. “And… she asked about Gaster.” Sans’s eyelights snapped to him, but Red waved a gloved hand. “Relax, I didn’t say anything. She’s cool. I don’t think she knows anything.”

Sans shook his head, running a bony hand over his skull. “She definitely does. I know she does.”

“And so what if she does? What’s she gonna do with that information?”

“If she’s smart enough, she’ll do something.” Sans is quiet for a moment, and when he spotted Red watching him, an idea struck him. “You and her get along?”

“I don’t think she gives a fuck about what you think she does.” But Red shrugged when Sans didn't say anything to that. “She’s funny. Good company, I guess.”

“You and her are gonna be friends. Get close to her-”

“You’re insane, Classic, I’m not your-” Red stops himself before he starts cussing him out. The last thing they want is to get sidetracked with insults. Like last time . He rested his chin on his hand. “Listen, if you want to get close to her to see if you’re right, go ahead and do it. I don’t want any part in whatever little vendetta you got against her.”

“That's not what a- Nevermind. Just do me this one favor,” Sans pleads, but it sounds more like he’s trying to convince a toddler to eat his vegetables. “It can’t be me. I can tell I’m not her favorite right now.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Red says, putting emphasis on each word to get it through Sans’s thick skull. “Why me, anyway? Today was my day off! Ask Stretch, or-”

“You’re coming to work with me tomorrow,” Sans interrupts, sockets narrowing. “You’re gonna ask for her number, and you two are gonna hang out like best buddies. Find out whatever you can.”

“Find out what ?”

“Anything. Anything she might know about Gaster.”

Red is frozen, and he looks upset. But living in a world where he doesn’t belong puts him at a disadvantage. Sans is his protector in this world, even if he didn’t want him to be. 

“What’s in it for me?”

At least he’s on board , Sans thought to himself as he sighed. “Name it.”

Chapter Text

Cash was already there when you arrived at the factory. He’s seated on the pile of broken crates you had landed on not long ago, a pastel pink box in his lap and a phone in his hands. He taps away at the screen.

It was already late into the night., and you had barely eaten, but you recognized the box was from Muffet’s bakery. Your stomach growled at the mere sight. He didn’t look up from his phone, not even when you walked toward him and waved. Without a word, he shoved the phone in your direction.

“Put your number in there.”

“Good to see you, too,” you replied, holding the phone. You waited for him to say something before you bothered typing your number into the phone. “How’ve you been?”

“Been alright,” he shrugged, nodding towards the phone. You sighed as you typed in your number, leaving the name blank just in case. You didn’t want to know how controlling Sans was. Was he starting to trust Cash more?

“Is your phone new?” He shrugged, taking the phone back from your outstretched hand. “Do you know if you’re being tracked?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “This is Rus’ phone. He barely uses it, so he’s letting me keep it, for now, to keep in touch with you.”

“That’s sweet of him,” you said, though you were worried about one aspect. “He knows you’re here, then? And with me?”

“Yeah.” When he noticed the concerned look on your face, he added, “He won’t snitch, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. You’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

“Yeah, so if we get caught, it’s on you for slipping up.”

You rolled your eyes in response, but he only chuckled. The factory was quiet tonight, and you noticed from the lack of cat hair on Cash’s sweater that Doomfanger might not have come with him tonight. You took to wandering the factory, staying away from the second floor for now. The hole in the ceiling where you’d fallen from with Cash was clearly visible in the moonlight that managed to find its way through the windows.

“So, where’ve you been?” Cash’s voice came from somewhere in the factory, close enough to hear, but you couldn’t see where he was.

“Working. I wasn’t supposed to go in today, but Sans needed my help in the lab.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You nodded, though still unsure if he could even see you. In truth, you’d only decided to come last minute to see if he was here. You had the journal, yes, and some supplies to disarm the furnace, but you didn’t want to explain anything to Cash. And if you were being honest, you didn’t like the feeling you got when lying to Cash. You weren’t a trustworthy person, not by a long shot, but you were starting to care for how Cash would feel if he did find out about your dishonesty.

Betrayed? Confused, most likely.

“Yeah, just some stuff to organize from the lab in the Underground,” you responded, slightly distracted when you spotted Gaster looking at you from the hallway. It was difficult to look away. “Uh, Sans had to leave early from work. I was there when Red got the call from Sans’s brother.”

“You met Red,” he asked in alarm, and you moved not two feet when he was suddenly a few inches from you. He looked unnerved, bothered by something. It surprised you. “Why did you meet him? Did you guys talk? What did you talk about?”

His questions startled you, and you thought back to his usual behavior of indifference. The change worried you. “Relax, dude. Are you scared of him?”

“No,” he said instantly, an unsettling seriousness in that one word. “Absolutely not. But he’s scary good at checking your soul or stats, or whatever, without you even noticing. Did you feel weird at all when you were with him? Like floaty, or something?”

You shook your head no, leaning slightly to get a better look at the hallway. Gaster was gone, and even though that hallway led to the staircase, you wanted to follow him.

“He thinks I have a crush on Sans.”

Cash parted his teeth as if to say something. His jaw clicked shut like he couldn't find the words. He tilted his head. “What?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It wasn’t awkward or anything. I didn’t feel weird. I told him that Sans looked worried, and he started with that. He was mostly joking.” You paused, thought for a moment. “I think.”

He shook his head as if to forget about what you said. “If you ever see him again, just be careful. He’s not a bad guy, I think , but if he starts getting suspicious-”

“What happened?” You were itching to know why Cash was so worried about you and Red having met, especially if it had to do with suspicion, but you also wanted to know why Sans had to leave so suddenly. “How bad was it that Sans had to go handle it?”

“Rude, don’t interrupt me. But my brother and one of the cousins got into a fight,” he said, rolling his eye in annoyance. “Started as an argument, but they got into full-on brawling and used magic and-” he stopped and cleared his throat, “They’re okay. Stupid shit they started fighting about.”

Every time he cleared his throat, the question of “how” flashed in your mind.

“As long as they’re okay.” You swung your arms slightly, but your eyes settled on the emptiness of the hallway. You wanted to talk to Gaster. But not today. You wouldn’t risk it today. “Why should I be worried about Red checking my soul?”

“He’s able to see the topmost thought in your head or something that’s been bugging you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Or something like that. It’s tricky to explain if I’m bein’ honest.” 

“Oh. You’re worried I’ll be thinking about you when I’m with him.” He nodded. “How would I… get around that?”

“I don’t know. Try not to think about me. Especially around him.”

“Well, I wasn’t, to begin with-”

“Ouch.”

“-but I’ll try and be careful if it makes you feel better.”

He seemed okay after that, a sigh escaping through his teeth as he walked back to where he left the box.

You think about souls and how much you knew about them, which wasn’t much if you were being honest. As far as you knew, there had been stories of monsters’s and mages’s abilities to check a person’s soul and what trait they presented most as. You didn’t know the types, but when monsters freed themselves, humans learned more about souls and the whole matter of checking them and their states, and- it was a lot. Most of the time, it made zero sense to you and you took any online information you found with a grain of salt.

Cash returned, and in his hands you saw an assortment of pastries and donuts from Muffet’s Bakery. They were decorated in beautiful and delicate spider web patterns, reminding you of the lace trim on the abandoned dresses the dolls wore upstairs. You both took a seat, him on an old conveyor belt and you on a rusted metal rack.

“What’s the occasion?”

Cash shook his head, taking a donut and passing the box to you. “These are more to cheer me up than anything.”

“So something is wrong.” He nodded as he took a bite, and you frowned. “Tell me. I probably can’t help, but maybe you’ll feel better. If you talk.”

He made a noise of disgust, like he’s embarrassed to talk about this, and you realize he probably is embarrassed. “I’m not really into these touchy-feely talks. It’s… dumb, anyway. Nothing worth complaining about.”

“You wouldn’t be complaining. Just… explaining why you feel a certain way.” You take one of the pastries and eat it in one bite.

He gives you a look, his brow bones furrowing. “Alright, nosy. I’m a newcomer,” he began, and you nodded, recalling the moment you made that realization the first time you met. “So, it takes a while for me and the other newcomers to get used to all… this-” he gestures to the factory around you as if late-night factory runs are what monsters have to prepare for when awaiting their ascension to the surface, “- and because it takes a while for some of us to get used to, Sans doesn’t let us out until he thinks we’re ready.”

“Is he worried about you guys being overwhelmed?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “That’s not it.”

You could tell that there was something Cash wasn’t being honest about, something he was being careful to hide. You wanted to ask if he wasn’t allowed outside or needed a chaperone, like some debutante from the 1800s. It was complicated, like Cash said it was, but you were making a point not to pry. If he wanted to offer the information up, he would.

“It’s hard living with so many people.” He wasn’t looking at you as he spoke, his single visible eye glued to the floor. “Especially when everyone is on edge all the time. Some of us don’t trust each other, regardless if we’re… family, or whatever.”

His confession shocked you, not so much that you understood what he felt. Being related to someone didn’t automatically make them someone to be trusted wholeheartedly. He said earlier he wasn’t into the touchy-feely kind of talks, but he gave you this information that offered a glimpse of the life he kept guarded. You’d take whatever you could get.

“Big families can be difficult to deal with,” you said, and you struggled to add anything beyond those words.

You finished the rest of the sugary treats in silence. You’re hesitant to join him upstairs, but when Cash peer pressured you enough, you gave in. You reminded him that he was the one freaking out when you fell through the floor, but he ignored you and talked about some show he’d started watching.

You spend more time admiring the stillness of the second floor, moving through each room to observe rather than hunt as you’d done last. Cash wandered not too far behind you, but soon you’ve gathered the courage to continue going up until you’ve made it to the roof. The air was cold and it bites at your skin. You wondered why you left your jacket in the car again.

The moon above was not quite whole, and the color of it reminded you of Gaster. Cash was leaning over the railing, and you refused to join him because that fall was not worth the risk. You sat on an old electric generator instead.

Cash was looking over the railing towards the expanse of trees. “What’s up with your hand?”

You’d already forgotten the stained ink that seemed fused to your skin. You glanced at your hands for a second, and when you looked up at him, he was already staring right at you.

“Ink.” You rub your hands together like a fly and then hold your right hand up. “Won’t come off.”

He hummed, his eye never straying from your hand. “Ink that won’t come off. I’ve heard of that before.”

You tucked them under your thighs. Ever since it had been stained, it was as if the ink had kept them permanently cold. “Where?”

“Why do you think Red wears gloves?”

What?

“I didn’t notice.”

Truthfully, you hadn’t. You were preoccupied with the prospects of being close to the other journals. The last thing you were worried about was Red’s stylistic choices. You couldn’t even picture them in your head if you tried.

“Jeez,” Cash said with a laugh. “How have you gotten this far without noticing things?”

“Even if I did, why would I assume it’s because of some ink?”

He shrugged. Silence. But these stretches of silence were never awkward. Just… comfortable silence. You didn’t like silence, but with Cash, it felt okay. Not as suffocating as when you were alone.

The night stretched on. It was getting super late. Cash started to fidget with the zipper of his sweater.

“Did I weird you out with my… with what I said? About them?”

You shook your head, unfazed. Not at all. It’s always good to get it out. You’re going through a lot. I’m not sure what exactly, but I know it’s enough for you to want to be away from them for a bit. Don’t feel bad.”

He scoffed, looking away. “I feel awkward. ” 

You looked at him. “It’s normal. We talked a lot today. About touchy stuff.”

“Not really ,” he said. “All I did was complain-”

“You didn’t.”

“-about them. It’s not as bad as… Whatever.” He pushed against the railing and joined your side. “I’m tired.”

“You want a ride home?”

“Fuck,” he said with a laugh, and he pointed at your chest. “Your soul must be orange. You ask me all the time if I’m scared, but are you?”

You weren’t. What’s the worst that could happen to you if Sans found out about everything? The journal, Gaster, Cash- all of it. He’d never trust you again. You could lose your job if Alphys couldn’t vouch for you. But was that it? You weren’t scared of what would happen to you. You were scared- more worried, if anything- for Cash. The repercussions he would face were something you still couldn’t get a grasp on, but you didn’t want to find out. You would take all the blame, of course, but that didn’t mean Cash wouldn’t lose any trust he had with Sans. If he had any at all.

“Where then? Toriel’s?”

“No. I can get home on my own.”

“I thought you were tired?”

“I didn’t realize you were in charge of my bedtime schedule,” Cash said dryly. “ You go home. I can tell you haven’t slept well in…” He looked you up and down. “A while.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. I’m going. But text me when you get home safely.”

“Alright, mom.”

You want to roll your eyes again at his joke, but that would be redundant. When you tried to abandon him on the roof, he followed you down and walked you to your car. You took the empty box to throw it away at home.

Cash said goodnight, and you reminded him to text you when he got home safe.

-

You woke up at three in the morning to a one-worded text from an unknown number. Home .

You send back a thumbs up. In your half-assed attempt to add him to your contacts with the poor vision you had in the middle of the night, you managed to type in a few dollar signs.

When you turned over in your bed, Gaster sat in the darkest corner of your room with his eyes closed. His body pooled around him, reminiscent of melted ice cream.

The static in your head settled to a comforting hum.

Chapter Text

You were surprised to see Red in the lab the next day. Shit, you surprised yourself by showing up, especially when yesterday was supposed to be your day off. Staying home sounded good, but the worm in your brain who loved to work was whispering a bit too loud this morning.

But there he was, standing next to Sans as he wrote something on a whiteboard resembling quantum mechanics. You tried not to catch their attention, retreating to your nook in the lab where you could work in peace. The last thing you wanted was for him to check your soul like Cash said he could.

Did that mean he would , though?

Still, you put your earbuds in and turned on your computer. Your inbox was surprisingly full this morning, and you're glad to have an excuse to be here. Mass emails had been sent to all employees about fire safety after someone caused a small electrical fire in one of the labs on the opposite side of the facility.

You’re so engrossed with the emails you nearly jumped out of your seat when you felt a tap on your shoulder. The embarrassing gasp you let out made Red laugh.

“My bad,” he said with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to startle ya’.”

“It’s fine,” you said, smiling patiently and swiveling on your chair to face him. “Did you need something?”

“Are you busy,” he asked, and you looked down at his hands for a second to look at the gloves Cash had mentioned. “I was going down to get some coffee. Thought you’d join me. If you want.”

“I just got here,” you said, and when you looked around, you saw Sans. He wasn’t staring at you for once, but he’s still as stone. Was he listening? You lost your train of thought, forgetting to answer until you looked back at Red. “But okay. These emails are already boring.” Anything to not be alone with him.

You got up from your seat and walked out with him. You didn’t ask why he was in the lab, even if you wanted to know. You also didn’t point out he didn’t need your company to get some coffee, but there must be a reason why he asked you to join him.

Right? Was the paranoia getting to your head?

“Did you hear about the fire someone set in one of the labs last week?”

“Uh, I think Sans mentioned it.” Red stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. The gloves he wore were simple, black, and sleek. Were his hands permanently stained with ink, as Cash said? And if it was the same ink, then Red had lied about meeting Gaster.

You forced your train of thought to stop just in case.

“Dr. Alphys’s wife was chaperoning a tour for some kids from an elementary school,” you said, recalling the security tapes you had laughed over with Undyne herself. You pulled out your phone, ready to show Red the video. “She knocked over some equipment while one of the lab techs was explaining something to the kids, and sparks started flying.”

You showed Red the video as you arrived at the coffee shop in the lobby. You’re oblivious to the light tug he gave your elbow to stop you from walking into someone standing in line to order, but he’s still watching the video and commenting.

The funniest part was in the beginning, where Undyne walked behind a group of kids and knocked something over accidentally. She kicked it softly at first, but then it sparks, and her first instinct was to kick it harshly into something else. As the sparks begin to fly and a burst of flames comes from the apparatus, Undyne moves in a flash and bravely shields the kids while the fire grows. The fire would have been more concerning if one of the techs hadn’t been ready with the fire extinguisher, clearly berating her as he put the fire out. You explained this to Red, and his chuckles turned into laughter.

“Shit, that was great,” he said, wiping away a tear with his gloved hand. You didn’t know skeletons could cry. “Sans said it was Undyne’s fault, but I didn’t know there was footage of this.”

He must know her if he knew her name without you saying so. It was common sense the more you thought about it. If they knew Alphys, then, of course, they knew Undyne.

“Go ahead.”

You hadn’t realized it was your turn to order, and Red watched you expectantly. You tell the barista your order, and he does the same, grabbing something for Sans and Alphys. You step aside to let him pay for the drinks.

While you wait, you tell him, “I’ll pay you back. For the drink.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. “I took you away from your work, so it’s on me.”

You thanked him, albeit a little awkwardly. You hadn’t actually been working, but to keep the awkwardness from consuming your brain, you asked, “Is your name Red because of your eyes?”

Red blinked at you, and you noticed the way his eye lights dilate. Noticeably, in fact. “Uh, sorta. It’s easier, I guess. Names get confusing.”

“Does your cousin Blue have blue eyes?”

You said it almost jokingly, but he nodded slowly. He kept looking at you like he’s confused about something. His sockets narrowed. Was he checking your soul? Your stats? You wished Cash had explained it better.

“You could mistake him and Sans for twins,” he said, looking away momentarily. “All the same, except for the eyes.”

“Have you ever confused them?”

“Oh, for sure,” he said with a short laugh. “Dozens of times.”

When the drinks were ready, you took yours and Alphys’s, and Red took his and Sans’s. The walk back was quiet, but Red surprised you with a question when you were halfway to the lab.

“Hey, be honest,” he began, intentionally slowing his pace. “What do you think of Sans?”

You didn’t know why he asked about Sans. But you answer truthfully to a question for once, lest he calls you out via soul reading. “Honestly? I don’t think he likes me at all. I feel like-” You tried to gesture without spilling the drinks. “Like I bother him.”

“Is that why you agreed to come down with me? You look like you don’t like being alone with him.”

Was he a fucking mind reader?

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” you said in his defense. “I’m not intimidated by him. I just get this vibe like I offended him and-” When you glanced at him, Red was staring straight at you. It caught you off guard so much that the words die on your tongue. You lose the rhythm of your steps with him. The coffee nearly spills through the opening from the sudden change.

You furrow your brows. “Have I?”

“Nah,” Red said, suddenly still. “You make him nervous.”

You say nothing, but Red’s expression changed when he said that. It shifts from calm to Oh, fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. The air feels colder the closer you get to the lab, but your hands are hot from the coffee. You want to look around and search for Gaster, but- you stop yourself. Red could be checking your soul or whatever at any moment. He could also be reading your mind, but that would be ridiculous. Skeletons couldn’t read your mind. Right?

“What do you mean nervous?” You quickened your pace without realizing it, and he matched it. The conversation from yesterday springs back into your mind. “Are you trying to set us up or something? Is that why you showed up today? Did he want you to be his wingman?”

“Woah, slow down,” Red called out, and you didn’t know if he was talking about the pace or the questions, but you picked both and halted to a stop. He stopped with you. “I’m not doin’ any of that. Trying to set you two up, I mean. I’m just-”

You furrowed your brows. “Messing with me?”

“I’m not trying to,” he says, his voice lowering slightly in volume. He’s tense, and it shows.

“I’m struggling to see what other reasons there might be,” you said dryly. You realize you’re starting to talk fast, interrupting without meaning it. “You asked if I had a crush on Sans yesterday, and you started asking what I think about him today. What’s with that? Because if I’ve done something wrong to make the vibes all weird, I would rather-”

“I like you.”

He says it so suddenly, his voice eerily calm, but his sockets widened anyway, and- you blinked. They’re empty for three full seconds before his red eyes fade back in. His skull goes from white to red in an instant. It shocked you, and you stared at him with the same expression. You didn’t know skeletons could blush. Or make their eyes disappear.

When no words come out, he mutters out an apology and starts walking away, a string of curses flowing from his mouth.

“Wait,” you called out, realizing you’re more annoyed than anything. “Hold up!”

You barely catch up to him as he enters the lab, but before you can say anything, Red leans down while avoiding eye contact and whispers, “Please, not now.”

Still in shock, you watched him walk over to Sans and shove the coffee in his direction, a few drops spilling and landing on Sans’ lab coat. He sits down, and you can’t tell if he’s defeated or embarrassed. Probably both. He started talking to Sans. Sans had the gall to look like he was on the verge of laughter.

If you’ve ever been in an awkward situation, this one trumped any other. You gave Alphys her coffee. She thanked you, but you leave her dumbfounded when you retreat to your nook instead of talking with her. Truthfully, food should not be allowed in the lab, but Alphys had that much trust in you.

You pulled out your phone.

Me: Red said he liked me.

$$$: Huh

Me: I don’t know.

Me: He’s here in the lab with Sans, and we went down to get coffee 

Me: But he started talking about Sans, and I asked him why

Me: And he just said it

$$$: Sus

Me: You aren’t helping

$$$: This is Rus, btw. Cash is playing Fortnite.

You dragged a hand over your face, unfazed by this revelation. Your annoyance only grew.

Me: I don’t care

$$$: You should go on a date with him

Me: What does Cash think

$$$: who cares

Me: I’ll wait for Cash

It took ten minutes for Cash to text you, letting you know first and foremost that he got a crown in Fortnite.

$$$: Is it safe to call?

You went to the bathroom nearest the lab and locked the door behind you. You dialed Cash first, and he picked up on the fourth ring.

“Congrats on the win,” you said dryly, “but please shut the fuck up about Fortnite for a second.”

“Ok, but only if-”

“Is this not what we were worrying about yesterday? Me seeing Red again, and now this- this confession?”

“He could be lying.”

“But it’s so weird ! He could have said anything else, Cash,” you whispered harshly. You tried to keep your voice low, but the frustration was getting to you. “And that’s if he was lying. I feel like I’m in a fucking Wattpad fanfic right now.”

“I don’t want to know what Wattpad is,” Cash responded. You heard Rus’s voice somewhere in the background, and Cash’s voice is far away when he says, “I said I didn’t want to know, dude.” When he talks to you, he sounds defeated. “I honestly don’t know what to tell you. It’s like every piece of advice I give you goes against whatever this shitty reality has planned for you.”

“That’s a weird way to put it,” you mumble into your phone. “I swear, Cash, they’re out to get me. They’re planning something, and-”

You’re uninterrupted by the sound of Rus’s relaxed laughter. “You’re being paranoid. Just chill out and don’t say anything dumb. I swear, the worst those two nerds can do to you right now is-”

“Embarrass the shit out of me with every single interaction?”

“Oh, they’re awkward as fuck when you first meet them,” Cash added. “Believe me, every single-”

Rus interrupts before Cash can finish, “You make them nervous.”

What? Your brain makes too many possibilities known at once. Why would he say the same thing as Red? Was he in on this? Was he trying to get you to let your guard down?

“Why do you say that?”

“Clearly you do,” he said. “If that’s what he’s picking to tell you. Unless he got a crush on you overnight and suddenly decided he wants to take you out on a date.” There’s whispering you can barely pick up on in the background. “I say do it.”

“And put me at risk of getting caught,” Cash replied with a harsh whisper.

“Stop going to the factory, then.”

“Focus,” you tell them. “What do I do? Ignore him? Hope he’s just kidding?”

“Uhhhhhhhh.”

You groaned. “I’ll figure it out. Just-”

“Alright,” Cash said. Geez, did all three of you have a problem with interrupting? “I’ll stop going to the factory. ‘Till this whole thing dies down, at least. We can text if anything.”

“Okay,” you sighed, taking a deep breath. “Please tell me if I should be worrying more.”

“Trust me, I know I was acting weird last night with that whole soul thing, but you’re worrying enough for the both of us,” Cash said. “If what I think is true, maybe put that orange soul to work.”

“Ooo, bravery? Don’t see those every day,” Rus comments.

You wanted to stop worrying, but something in your brain was nagging. Or was the lack of sleep coming back to bite you in the ass? Maybe you were assuming too much. Maybe Red didn’t mean to make that confession something romantic, and you were reading into it way too much.

“Alright. Okay.” Everyone went quiet for a second. “Sounds good, then. I’ll see what happens and let you know.”

“Bye-bye.”

You hung up and sighed deeply, letting the frustration of the strange situation leave your body before having to face the world again. Since meeting Cash, it was as if the world made your life a series of coincidences.

When you’re near the lab, Red is outside on the phone with someone. You almost head right back to where you came from, but the looming figure behind him makes you freeze.

Red has yet to notice you, but with you staring at Gaster for so long, it doesn’t take long. He hangs up almost immediately.

He stared at you for a moment. “Hey.”

“Hello.”

The silence was deafening to the point where it made your ears ring.

“Listen, I-I didn’t mean to say what I said. I just sort of panicked.” His hands are in his pockets, but he pulls them out and starts fiddling with the fabric of his gloves. He mistakes your look of relief for a look of offense because he adds, “Not that I don’t like you, I just-”

“Are you okay?”

“Fuck no,” he responds immediately. “This is fucking embarrassing. Why would I be? I do like you, but-”

“Did Sans put you up to this?”

If you put Red next to a deer, you’d mistake them for twins. “You seem cool,” he muttered, but he sounded strange. He’s avoiding your question. It’s like an autopilot response. Something scripted. “I thought we could hang out. I made it awkward.”

“You did.”

“You’re strangely perceptive for a human,” he said, and just for a moment, he isn’t the awkward or nervous skeleton he usually is. “But I’ll return that honesty. He did put me up to this. Askin’ you to hang out with me.”

“Weird, but okay. Continue.”

“I don’t make friends easily.”

You don’t want to be mean and laugh, but it’s a little sad. Did Sans have such little faith that he forced Red to organize a playdate with someone he thought might be nice to him? No, these thoughts were too mean. That couldn’t be true.

Your suspicion of this entire situation still stood. If Sans is making Red play nice for whatever reason, you’d use it to your advantage. It was morally wrong to think this way, especially when you weren’t one hundred percent confident, but the chances weren’t zero. Not yet, anyway. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Alright,” you decided. “So, what did you have in mind?”

Red’s eyes locked onto yours.  “Huh?”

“To hang out,” you clarified. This better work in your favor somehow. Red was still gawking at you.

“I didn’t expect-”

“Do you not want to hang out?”

“Geez, okay. Where? I don’t go out often.”

You give him a teasing smile. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Good one,” he says dryly. “Think of somethin’.”

“ You’re being forced to make friends. You decide.”

“I’ve got nothing.”

You stared at him for a moment. “You don’t seem into this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t look like the type of guy who likes making friends.” He gives you a deadpan stare, but you continue. “Or the type of guy who likes doing whatever his cousin tells him to do.”

“That perceptiveness is getting annoying,” he scoffed, pocketing his hands. “This doesn't seem sketchy to you at all? Why do it?"

Oh, it was sketchy, but you had anticipated this from the very start. "If it'll get Sans off your ass, then I don't really care."

"What's in it for you?"

"I don't know," you shrugged innocently. "A new friend? Just pick a place.”

“Alright,” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nasal bone. “Okay. Give me your number. We can talk about this later.”

“It’s not that serious, buddy, don’t stress yourself out,” you tell him jokingly, hoping he isn’t as annoyed as he seems.

But if your theory was correct, this was serious to him. You were determined to figure out the true purpose of this so-called friendship.

Chapter Text

You and Red get along.

You nodded slowly, sending your last response to Red before setting your phone down. When you looked up, Gaster was waiting expectantly. That crooked smile was more endearing than unsettling the more you looked at him. You liked his company.

“Sort of,” you clarified. “I don’t think I trust him. Not yet.”

He’s not bad . Just scared .

“Scared of what?”

Gaster didn’t respond immediately. You glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but who would be? People always spoke on the phone out loud at this cafe, sometimes on speaker. You had an earbud in to make it seem as if you were on a phone call.

You’d just gotten off work, having left the lab with some relief. Red and Sans had not shown up today, so the lack of awkwardness for once was great.

This place.

“The surface?”

No . Maybe … but Gaster trailed off.

You smile. “I love how vague you are, buddy.”

The connection you have with Gaster had gotten stronger the past few days. When he was near, the static in your head grew louder. The difference now was that it didn’t hurt like it used to, and despite the intensity it never disrupted you. And when he spoke, it sounded clearer. Sharper, somehow, like he was actually there, sitting right before you.

The more you spoke with him, the more you learned. He hadn’t been able to form the body he now had until half a year ago when you were on the cusp of graduating. Even then, he still struggled to keep that form whole. Communicating with you was more difficult. By the time he figured out how to talk to you, he had gotten a grasp on keeping his form together.

He started with small things, words echoing against your brain until he could speak with you that first day in the factory.

“But that doesn’t explain why you can talk to me,” you had asked then.

The majority of my soul. It is bound with my journal. You found it.

His theory was that all that time you spent attached to that journal must have bound him to you, sooner or later, since he only started appearing recently. Of course, neither of you could be too sure. Now, he was pooled in the seat ahead of you, his body resting on a chair and gossiping.

“Would you trust Red if you were in my shoes?”

I cannot wear shoes . His laughter echoed in your head when you rolled your eyes. I trust him. He is… good. I think. Means well.

“So you know him? He said he never met you.”

We have never met before... But the way he said that made it sound like a question. He- Gaster stops. Sans. We may know each other.

“Can he see you?”

I cannot tell. Maybe not .

“How can you not tell?”

He said nothing. Maybe you were asking too much of him. He had already admitted that some of his memories were hard to reach. Others were wholly gone. It was hard enough as he was, barely tethered to this reality.

“Nevermind,” you said with a patient smile. “It’s okay, buddy. You don’t have to tell me.”

I don’t know how I know him .

“That’s troubling you, isn’t it?” His head bobbed up and down. “But if you don’t know how you know either of them, how can you trust them?”

Red does not mean any harm. He likes you .

“Oh,” you said. “How can you tell?”

I am naturally good at reading monsters.

“Bullshit.”

Gaster laughed again. He was nervous .

“I keep hearing that I make them nervous, but I don’t think it’s in a good way.” Gaster tilted his head. You took a sip of your drink before you answered. “I mean I make them nervous in a bad way. Like they think I’m shady.”

You can hear Gaster humming, but soon the static in your head starts to dull. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Rest up. We can talk later if you want.”

Cash had stayed true to his word and avoided the factory. With Rus’ phone, it was easier to text. He expressed his excitement when he told you that Sans was thinking about letting him go to the store with one of the other cousins. He might not have said yes, but it was a step closer.

“What’s up,” you asked him. Cash had called you while you were in the middle of cooking dinner for yourself at home.

“I forget to ask, but how has ghosthunting been?”

It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about. You almost smacked yourself for that stupid lie. You’d forgotten about it. “I lied about that.”

He was silent for a moment. “So all those ghost-hunting shows are fake?”

“No, not really,” you explained. “I just meant that I never tried to ghost hunt at the factory. When we met.”

“But ghost hunting is a real thing?”

“Yes. People do that for real.”

“Okay.”

Was he serious? Did he not give a shit that you lied? Had you been worrying about nothing?

“You’re not going to ask why I lied to you?”

“I don’t care if you don’t do it,” he replied. Unbothered. “I just care if the people I’ve been watching are fake or not.”

“Who have you been watching?”

“Buzzfeed Unsolved.”

“Oh,” you said. You want to facepalm so bad at your paranoia. The lack of sleep was going to kill you one of these days. “No, they’re good. Legit.”

“So, what were you doing at the factory?”

“Looking for scraps for this personal project.” You decided to tell the truth without giving it all away. “Something energy related.”

“That explains the hunt for the glass eyes. Still shitty conductors, by the way.”

“Noted.” But it’s still bugging you. You had been dishonest from the start, and now you and Cash were friends. Was he truly not bothered by any of this? “Cash-”

“I swear I’m not mad about you lying,” he said immediately, sounding exasperated. “We were strangers then. We kind of still are, in a way. I didn’t expect a deep dive into your weird hobbies right then and there.”

“So we’re cool?”

“We’re cool.”

“Cool.”

What an underwhelming confession. If Red ever discovered your dishonesty, you hoped for some dramatics. You stirred at the pot of soup, thinking of something to say.

“Has Sans said anything about your trip to the store?”

“Next week, dude,” he said, and you hear him scrambling behind the scenes for some reason.  You hear Doomfanger meowing for attention. “He said next week I could go to this grocery store that specializes in monster food or whatever. This sounds lame, but I’m kind of stoked.”

You smiled to yourself. It was a little sad that a trip to the grocery store is what Cash was looking forward to, but you were happy for him. “With who are you going?”

Then he lets out a groan. “I wanted to go with Rus, but he has class that day. Papyrus was the next option, but he’s meeting with the city’s mayor for whatever. Black is the only one available since it’s his turn to go shopping.”

At this point, you’d heard a lot about Black. A stick-in-the-mud and a know-it-all who thought himself superior to others. His only redeemable quality, according to Cash, was that he was the one who advocated for his freedom, despite his seeming rivalry with Cash’s brother. He mostly kept to himself, but he was deathly competitive and rarely got along with the others- except for Rus, of course.

“Come on,” you tried to encourage him. “Maybe he’ll be nice to you.”

“It’s been awkward since he kicked Mal’s ass. He thinks I have a grudge against him, and Mal got all pissed when he found out I’m going with him.”

That detail was new to you. You knew about the fight between Black and Mal, but Black had won? You had no idea how strong these skeletons were, but still. No wonder Black thought he was better than everyone.

“So, tell him.”

“Gross, fuck no.”

There was no convincing him there. “How long until you’re allowed to have human friends?”

“Still another while,” Cash says after a pause. “Papyrus and Blue have the most friends, but the others are pretty hesitant with humans. I know Black does it out of necessity for work, and Red is a hermit. Mal still thinks they’re plotting against Monsters. Rus has a few.”

“Is this all for humans?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” you mumbled. “Red is a hermit? Like no friends, or what?”

Cash laughed for some reason. “He rarely goes out. I’m pretty sure his only friends are Grillby and Sans, but all he and Sans do is work together. Let’s not count his brother.”

You’d never met Grillby, and had never tried his food either. Based on his reviews, he was ‘smoking hot,’ but you didn’t know what he looked like either. “So am I his first human friend?”

“I have no idea,” Cash said. “Probably. Most likely.”

“I take that back. I have no idea if we’re friends at all.” You finished stirring the pot and lowered the flame on your stove. “We’ve been texting. Red and I.”

There was a pause as if Cash was struggling for a response. “For what? Like work stuff?”

“Uh, making plans. But he’s super indecisive. That hermit stuff makes sense now.”

“You’re going through with it,” he sighed. “The whole friend thing?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “He asked, so I said yes. If I’m being honest, though, he seemed weird about it.”

“He’s awkward around people. Sweats a lot.”

“No, I get it. Red is awkward, but then there are moments where he looks so,” you pause for a second, not knowing what to say. “I don’t know. Confident? I don’t know how to describe it. But then he goes back to his usual awkwardness” You sighed through your nose. “It’s been giving me whiplash.”

“If I were you, I’d still be careful. Maybe pick a public spot.”

“In case he tries to murder me,” you ask dryly.

“Oh, definitely.” When you went silent, he chuckled. “Relax, it’s a joke.”

“I know, dummy. I’m just thinking.” When you turned off the heat, you felt strangely cold. Gaster was nearby, but the low static made you think he didn’t feel like talking. “Hey, do I really have an orange soul?”

“No idea. I’ve never checked,” he said. “But I’m pretty certain. You’re sure as fuck not a blue one.”

“What does the blue one stand for?”

“Integrity.”

“Funny. What about the other ones?”

“Uh,” he thinks for a moment. “There’s purple for perseverance, cyan for patience, red for determination, green for kindness, and yellow for justice. Bravery for you, though. That’s my guess.”

“Am I not kind or determined?”

“You can be,” he said hesitantly. He sounded like he was trying not to offend you. “But those aren’t your dominant traits if my guess is right. Just because your soul is a certain color doesn’t mean you don’t have the other traits. One just happens to be more present.”

“And Red can tell without me knowing?”

“He can’t. I figured it out the other day.”

“Figured what out?”

“That whole ‘reading the soul’ thing. It’s not called that,” he clarified. You smile at the fact that he decided to research this. “It’s called checking, like to check someone’s stats. You can’t see the color of their soul, but their HP, LOVE, and other things are available. That ‘topmost thought’ thing, too.”

“Where’d you find all this?”

“I asked Blue.”

You nodded to yourself again. “So he can’t see my soul?”

“No, that’s something else.”

You both talked for a little bit longer, but after some time, Cash had grown silent.

“We can try ghost-hunting one day,” you offered. “For real.”

“Why?”

“I feel guilty for lying, Cash, I’m trying to make it up to you.”

He chuckled. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Maybe not.”

He paused as if to consider the proposal. “How would we?”

“Whenever you’re finally allowed to,” you said quickly, suddenly eager at the idea. “Or when you feel safe going back to the factory. We can try a few things we find online. I know someone who might have cheap equipment.”

“You don’t ghost-hunt, but you’re fully prepared to. Orange souls don’t know fear, right, Doomfanger?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “So?”

“Fuck it. One day we’ll do it.”

You smiled.

Gaster gave you silent company throughout the night as you ate dinner and fell asleep listening to the sound of his static.

You dreamed of haunted houses and Gaster’s crooked smile.

Chapter Text

You and Red couldn’t stand each other at first.

You had been indecisive about where you two should hang out for the last six days.

When you suggested a movie, Red responded, “This ain’t a date. Pick something else.”

When he suggested an arcade at the mall, you shut his idea down immediately. “I’m banned.”

“Why the fuck are you banned?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He groaned. “Fuck, you’re impossible.”

You shrugged, knowing well he couldn’t see you. This short phone call had stretched to two hours of back-and-forth insults and lackluster ideas. Of course, you had considered inviting him to the abandoned factory. But how do you explain your need to go there? You could use exploration as an excuse. He might believe that.

Cash reminded you of the hole on the second floor. And your healed wound. Red could notice either of these things. If he put two and two together, you’d be fucked.

“Let’s just go out and eat something,” you suggested again.

That had been the sixth time you’d made the suggestion, but Red was adamant that having dinner wasn’t hanging out. You were starting to think he didn’t like the awkward silence when eating. He refused to elaborate. Not even the offer of Grillby’s was enough to persuade him, but he had been close to agreeing.

“You’re a lot more boring than I thought.”

“I hope someone puts a fucking marble in your eye socket,” you mumbled, to which he barked out a sarcastic laugh. You paced around your apartment when something caught your eye. “You like Legos?”

He hesitated. “Maybe. Why?”

“I have this gift card I’ve been trying to spend,” you explained. “For the Lego Store at the outlet mall. I haven’t spent it. We could go and pick out a few sets and build them together.”

“That sounds like-”

“It’s not a fucking date, Red. Get over it.”

He clicked his tongue. “I was going to say it sounds like a nice time. Jackass.”

You wanted to threaten him with a bag of marbles. You decided against it. “Alright. When are you free?”

It was a lot easier to plan when to go rather than where. The next day was your day off, and Red had no problem blowing off his plans to work with Sans. He came over to your studio apartment at noon.

Red was sitting on your bed, watching you look for something with surprising patience. You had to admit you didn’t think it would have ever escalated from “Try and avoid him!” to “Invite him over.” But at this point, you were less worried about him discovering your dishonesty and more about his inability for compassion. Or consistency. Sometimes, you still thought about his “I like you” outburst and laughed, but he didn’t find it funny.

“What the fuck are you lookin’ for?”

“The gift card.” You were pulling books off their shelves and rifling through the pages. When you came up empty with each book, you tossed it carelessly on your bed next to Red. “I know I put it in a book. I can’t remember which one, though.”

You knew it was your own fault for not looking for it earlier. It would have definitely saved a lot of time.

You both stared silently at the three bookshelves overstuffed with books, and your eyes met his. Red didn't offer to help. He gave you an encouraging thumbs up, though. You resumed your search alone while Red scrolled on his phone.

He’s oblivious to Gaster standing beside him, a puddle of black goo. But when Red shifted away from him, you thought about what Cash said. You were suddenly self-conscious about the ink still stained on your fingers. Would Red notice? Would he ask? Would he relate to the issue?

“Do you feel cold at all,” you asked him, but he shook his head. “So, why the jacket and gloves?”

“Personal preference.”

“If I turn on the heater, would you-“

“You tryin’ to get me to strip or something?”

He meant it as a joke, but your face heated up anyway. You made a gagging sound, earning a laugh from Red. You had hoped he’d be open enough to take the gloves off and show you the ink, but that was wishful thinking. “I’m trying to be a good host.”

He ignored your words. “You like living in this place?”

You hadn’t expected him to ask you anything. “For now, yeah.” You flipped through another book and sighed. “But I’ve been looking at other places. Now that I can afford it. Why?”

“I was gonna say,” he muttered. “It’s tinier than my old place in the Underground. Lucky you live alone.”

“What’s it like living with so many people?”

You knew what it was like, but not everyone had the same experiences. Your mind was plagued with flashbacks of younger siblings hogging the bathroom, fist-fighting over a stolen cereal box, and the abundance of soda cans in someone’s room growing mold. You shivered.

He thought about it for a moment. “Rough at first. But you get used to it. Bunch of guys in one place, though, there’s bound to be a fight eventually.”

“I figured,” you said in response. “My brothers and I were at constant war when I lived there.”

“You have siblings?”

You wondered why this intrigued him. It was enough for him to put his phone down and look your way. “Yeah, a few. All younger.”

He sounded in disbelief when he responded, “ You’re the oldest?”

You nodded.

He hummed, his smile turning playful, though you didn’t notice. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Doesn’t seem like it?”

“You’re childish.”

“You’re one to talk.” You tossed the book in your hands at him, and you’re surprised when he catches it swiftly and begins to flip through it.

“What’s it about,” he asked you. When you shrug and admit you don’t know, he groans in irritation. “You don’t know anythin’, huh? Is your human brain empty all the time?”

“It’s all cobwebs up here.” He chuckled at your joke, but it grew quiet soon after. You assumed he got impatient because soon he’s muttering to himself.

He walked over to the bookshelf and stood close to you. He glanced at you, plucked a book off the shelf, and flipped through its pages. Miraculously, as if he knew it was there, out falls a gift card. He took it and placed it on the empty shelf. “You’re welcome.”

“How the fuck did you-”

“Let’s go already,” he interrupted, tossing the book on your bed. “We’re burning daylight.”

You muttered something to yourself, grabbing the gift card and following Red toward the door.

“All I need are my-” Your hand flies through the spot where your keys are usually hanging, and your brain blanks for a second as your hand slaps against the wall. “Where’d they go?”

Red had already opened the door, but now he gave you a puzzled look. “What now?”

“My keys,” you said, glancing around your apartment to see if you could spot them. “I swear I left them there.”

“Seriously,” he asked in annoyance. Red closed the door and started glancing around with you. “Where’d you leave them last?”

You pointed at the empty hook on the wall. “I always put them back when I get home.”

“Are you sure?”

“ Yes, ” you snapped, knitting your brows together. You had gone to the store earlier that day to pick up some snacks, just in case, and had left your keys on the hook as you always did. You tell this to Red.

“First the gift card and now the keys,” Red muttered. “Maybe you have early onset dementia. I heard it’s a thing with humans.”

“Maybe being around you makes my brain shrink,” you shot back, then pointed at the empty hook. “I always leave them there.”

Instead of waiting for a response, you started rummaging around your things. Underneath the pile of books on your bed, amongst the half-empty shelves, between the pillows and blankets. You checked in all your pockets, every drawer, and double-checked the hook on the wall, and under your bed. Red even goes out to your car to see if you’ve left them in there or dropped them off on the way back to your apartment, but how could that happen if you had used them to unlock your apartment? He shrugged.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.

“It’s cool, I can take us,” Red offered.

“Even if you do, I need my keys,” you said. “I work tomorrow.”

“You don’t have any spare keys?”

You shook your head. “My mom has them, but she lives hours away.”

Red looks dumbfounded. “Why would she-”

“Besides the point,” you interrupted. He gave you a look of frustration. “Fine, you can take us, but let me look for my spare house key. I have to lock this place somehow.”

You walked over to your closet and pulled out an old box. You placed the container on your bed, feeling Red approach you from behind. You opened it, but your heart stopped the moment you did. You’ve found your missing keys. Hooray!

But now Red was staring right at Gaster’s journal.

You tried not to falter, taking the keys and commenting about how relieved you were to find them, but Red was surprisingly swift. The journal was already in his grasp.

“What is this?”

You shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. You regretted wanting the dramatics now. “A journal.”

He narrowed his sockets at you, his red eyes like pin pricks in two black voids, the realization dawning on him. He continued to scrutinize you for a few agonizing seconds, like he’s starting to put the pieces together. Your apartment begins to grow cold, so much so that you shiver. Without a word, he feels for the indentations on the back. You can tell he knows what number journal he’s holding by the way his head snaps up in alarm. You bite the inside of your cheek, worry gnawing at you.

“Why do you have this,” he asked, and without waiting he added, “Did you take this from the lab stuff we organized?”

“No,” you said immediately. “I’m not a thief.”

“Then why do you have this,” he breathed out, his voice slightly ragged. His eyes land on your hand, the ink-stained tips of your fingers. You clenched them instinctively.

He says your name and the way he says it makes you fear for the conversation you are about to have.

“You can’t let Sans see that,” Red said slowly. He keeps talking only because you still haven’t figured out what to say. “The ink .”

You’re still too stunned to say anything. The keys had been hanging on the wall- until they weren’t. Gaster’s journal had been left in your backpack in the trunk of your car … until it wasn’t. How did they end up in the box? A box that merely kept a few random items of no significant value? You were too anxious to realize the drop in temperature.

You tried one last time, giving him a deadpan stare. “Pen ink.”

“If it were pen ink it would've faded days ago,” he snapped. His grip on the journal tightened. “Trust me, I wanted to think it was just pen ink.”

You sucked in a breath. “Red, listen-”

“I know what it is,” he said, his voice suddenly loud. He knows he’s right. “So, please, quit with the lying.” He turned and sat on your bed, saying, “Everyone knows orange souls are the most untrustworthy.”

“ What ?”

He looks taken aback by his comment like he never meant to let that slip.

“How do you know I have an orange soul,” you asked. “Have you been checking me?”

Oh, what a perfect opportunity to turn this against him. But he doesn’t dwell too much on it like you want him to.

“That’s not how that works,” he said, brow bone knitting together. “And don’t change the subject. Do you think checking your stats is any worse than this ?” He holds up the journal. “Tell me-”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” you argued.

But the freezing temperature of your apartment had finally gotten Red’s attention.

What surprised you the most was that when Gaster appeared suddenly, you both turned to look at him.

You slowly turn your head to stare at Red. He can see Gaster? Your eyes are wide, and Red can’t figure out who to look at, either. The traitor or the poltergeist?

“You’ve got some fucking explaining to do,” Red whispered harshly, but not to you.

Gaster’s response was evident in your head. She is my friend. We talk.

“Your friend ,” Red asked, looking at you. Did he think Gaster was fucking joking?

“What,” you snapped. “We’re friends. He told me he didn’t know you.”

“He doesn’t know me. But I know who he is. What I’d like to know is how you- ”

“Could you see him that day we organized everything?”

He didn’t answer, but instead narrowed his sockets. “Why would I tell you anything? I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t care,” you deadpan. “But as far as I know, only you and I can hear or see him.”

“How the fuck are you so sure?”

“Because he only ever talks about you and-” You put a hand to your mouth. “Can Sans also see him?”

“Now wait a fucking minute-”

“Gaster, who did you meet first,” you asked him, and Gaster perks up at finally being acknowledged.

You . You smile at Red, fighting the childish urge to flip him off. At the factory. Your smile drops.

Red glared. “What factory?”

You looked away. “I don’t trust you.”

“Now you’re just being childish.”

“Suck my-”

Enough of this, Gaster chided gently. You two are friends .

“I don’t think we are,” you said to him, ignoring Red as he rolled his eyes.

“I can’t be friends with liars.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Oh, yeah?” Red chuckled. “Please, tell me what I’ve lied about. I guarantee it’s not as bad as whatever the fuck you’ve been hiding.”

“Why did Sans make you befriend me?”

That shut him up real quick. He looked between you and Gaster. To your surprise, he answered the question “Because he was scared of this .”

“This?”

“ This ,” he shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. He pointed at you. “He knows you know something about Gaster! He thinks you’re smart enough to do something about it. I don’t think he-”

“Smart enough to do what,” you asked, matching his volume. “I haven’t done anything !”

He looked at you with the same amount of patience a parent gives their toddler who won’t stop asking the same question. Losing sanity. “To bring him back, you dunce. That’s what the-” he stopped himself, suddenly breathless. “The machine. In the journal,” he said slowly, then looked at the journal in his hands. “What were you trying to do at the factory?”

“Gaster said it was okay.” You gestured at the journal. “It’s just a prototype of some generator. Or something like that. I was trying to replicate it.”

“No,” Red said, shaking his head slowly. “The prototype for the CORE is in journal four, not fifteen.”

“Are you blind,” you said, holding out a hand. When he didn’t hand it over, you sighed. “Please. Just for a quick sec?”

He passed it to you, watching as you flipped it over and looked for the indentations. “See, it’s not fifteen, it’s-” but you stopped yourself, staring hard at the indentations. “No fucking way,” you whispered slowly, running your ink-stained fingers over and over again against the grooves in the journal. “How- how did it change? I swear it said four, I-” You began to flip through the pages, but the truth of the matter hits you like a brick.

None of this writing, despite your fluency in the language, seemed familiar.

This wasn’t the journal you’ve dedicated your whole life to.

This wasn’t the fourth journal.

Chapter Text

You had left Gaster and Red alone to retrieve the fourth journal, which was still seemingly in the trunk of your car. You sighed in relief when you felt the familiar leather against your fingers, and you walked back into your apartment feeling a lot better despite the earlier conversation.

“So you have two journals,” Red said upon your return. The fifteenth journal sat untouched on the dining table as if plagued by something incurable.

You have yet to check its contents. Red shot you a dirty look every time you even looked at it.

You took the fourth journal out of your backpack, placing it beside the other one. He picked it up gently and opened it.

“How long have you had this?”

You tilted your head and thought about it. “Over ten years, at this point. I found it on Mount Ebott.”

His red eye-lights get bigger at the mention of this. “Ten years ?”

You nodded. “You can ask Gaster. It’s the only journal I’ve ever had. He would know.”

Red turns to look at Gaster for confirmation, and he nods once. Red still doesn’t look convinced. “So you’ve had it for that long? Can you even understand it? It’s written in-”

“I know what it’s written in.” You pull out the translated copy from your backpack and show it to him.

“Oh, you’re actually insane.” He looks through your translated work. “You taught yourself how to understand WingDings,” he says in disbelief. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified.”

You paused. “Why?”

“Because this is batshit crazy,” he said, pointing at your notebook. “No wonder Sans wanted me to hang out with you.”

You grimaced. “Does he really think I’m that bad?”

“Yes.” He says it without hesitation. “But he should be glad it’s just you. As far as I know, you haven’t really done anything wrong. You’re harmless.”

You rolled your eyes. “How did these journals even go missing in the first place?”

“When Gaster was-” Red paused, staring at Gaster. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

Gaster nods once again, but this stuns you because you definitely didn’t know the answer to that. Red seemed satisfied, though, and assumed you knew. He continued.

“After that, all of Gaster’s things were stored away in the basement of the lab,” Red explained, ignoring your puzzled expression. “When Alphys took his place, she kind of moved everything around and most of those journals got lost. Sans never got a chance to read them down there.”

“Until they got cleared to come up and we had to organize all that stuff,” you finished.

Red nods toward Gaster. “What I’m wondering is how Gaster got a hold of fifteen.”

I did not put it there.

Red froze, and you both turned to Gaster. He’s seated on your bed, and the gears in your head begin to turn. Gaster had tried many times before to move objects around him or even hold them, but to no avail. Whenever he sat on something, to him it felt like he was floating. His body had no impact on anything physical.

You felt your blood run cold.

“I thought you hid her keys and the journal in there so we would both find them,” Red said. “Is this not what you were trying to do? Us finally coming clean about this stuff?”

Gaster shook his head. I cannot touch her things. And I would not want you two to fight . He paused, looking at each of you momentarily. You are friends .

“But you didn’t… You didn’t hide that stuff? You didn’t…” Red trailed off.

No.

The static in your head grew louder. Gaster was feeling distressed, and you knew full well that this meant he was telling the truth.

Gaster hadn’t put the fifteenth journal in that box.

You catch Red’s eyes. “Someone else did.”

The realization managed to keep you and Red silent for the better part of fifteen minutes. Staring at nothing in particular. Red refused to look at you. Gaster was sitting still and appreciating the silence.

“Who the fuck-”

“Did someone break into your apartment while you were at the store,” Red asked in alarm.

“I don’t think so,” you said, sounding unconvinced. “But how else would they have come in?”

“How would they have gotten your keys if you were home?”

“I don’t know!”

You’re both panicking, trying to figure out the different possibilities. If it wasn’t Gaster, it had to have been someone else. But that meant someone would have had to come in while you were inside your home to place your keys and that journal there.

“Are you sure-”

“If it wasn’t me or Gaster, then who else? Was it you?”

“Fuck no!”

You place your head in your hands and groan. “This is too much. I can’t deal with all of this.”

“You’re right,” Red says, gripping the journal. “Maybe this is a sign that you need to move out.”

“Yeah, yeah, that could be it.”

It’s as if you’re both going through the five stages of grief. This was bargaining. 

Red shook his head and looked at the fourth journal, whispering “one thing at a time” to himself.

You agreed silently.

You took that chance to grab the fifteenth journal and began reading through it. There were mentions of time paradoxes, but most of them are afterthoughts. The real core of the fifteenth journal was Gaster’s theories on multiverses and alternate universes. His main question was whether something from one reality can survive in another, and how long until those planes of existence lose their stability when something is out of place.

It felt almost strange to read something in WingDings that wasn’t the fourth journal but was still Gaster’s work.

There are sketches and diagrams of a machine Gaster had built. The very first one is titled M1-89. You find out that there are a total of five failed prototypes of this machine, and each one is closer to discovering something new than the last, but with minor hiccups.

With each prototype, there are lists of things that went wrong and descriptions of what he could try differently.

And there, on the last few pages, is the final prototype. M6-89.

“Red,” you say, and Red turns to look at you.

“What,” he asks.

“Earlier you said Sans had never seen the journals.” 

Red shakes his head. “No, I said he never got to read them.”

But by that point, you already knew Red was on the verge of fucking up. Sure, he could practically read your mind, but he wasn’t that good of a liar.

“So how do you know what’s inside fifteen and four?”

“I don’t.”

“You do. You corrected me earlier,” you reminded him. “When you said the fourth journal is about the CORE, not the fifteenth. You knew what they were both about.”

Red stared at you. “What are you trying to say?”

You furrow your brows, ignoring his question. “How could you know what’s inside? Unless you’ve read them before, which is weird since Sans never got the chance. But Sans is the one related to Gaster, not you.”

He says your name once. A warning.

“And whoever put this journal inside that box,” you continued, “probably meant to put it in there for a reason.” Red tries to reach for the journal, but you lean back. “This entire journal is about multiverses. Alternate realities.”

“Do you hear yourself? You sound-”

“You once told me that Sans and Blue get confused because of how alike they look,” you interrupted, recalling Red’s words. “Alternate realities exist. Are you also from one?”

You’re right. You know you are. But the only reason you’re so confident in your discovery is because Red is a terrible liar. And you can see his resolve breaking. He’s going to give in soon.

“ Also ? Don’t be dumb,” Red said, and you frowned at his choice of insult. “Of all the things you could-”

“You suck at lying.”

“Hold up,” Red says, holding up his palms. You stop talking. When he continues, he’s saying the words slowly. Like he’s approving of each word before it comes out of his mouth. He didn’t even try to lie. Then again, he wasn’t you. “I’m not sure if this is something we should be talking about. If Sans found out about all this, he’d freak out. It’s all complicated.”

“Hypothetically,” you started. “How would knowing the full truth affect him at all?”

“It’s not that,” Red clarifies. “It’s the fact that this is all,” he gestured to himself and then Gaster. “Family stuff. This has nothing to do with you at all. Just skeletons.”

“But what if it does have to do with me,” you asked. “Gaster and I are linked somehow. I didn’t choose for that to happen, but it did. And that journal was in a box in my home.” Red was quiet, weighing his options. “And whoever put that journal in my box wants me to know this.”

“But if this is connected to Gaster, then it’s connected to us,” Red says. “And if it’s connected to us, then we get to decide if you should get to know everything.”

“Who’s ‘us’? Who’s making this decision?” You close the journal, knowing you have yet to take a good look at the contents inside. “Do you plan on telling Sans?”

“I kinda have to,” he said. He sounds defeated. “Promised I would. Especially because it has to do with him,” he said with a nod to Gaster.

Gaster had been surprisingly quiet the whole time, watching the two of you talk. He probably felt like a child waiting for his mom to stop talking to a friend she ran into at the supermarket.

“You said it yourself that Gaster doesn’t know you,” you remind him once more. “And you never answered my question.”

Red shook his head. “Stop.”

She already knows. Why keep lying to each other?

“ Quiet ,” Red snapped at him. Then he turned to you. You expect him to be angry, upset, furious. But he looks… scared .

Your face softens. “Are you-”

“Stop. I take it back. Sans can’t know,” he interrupts, his voice sounding tired and ragged. “About any of this. Ever. Don’t talk about it, don’t show your hand, don’t-”

“Red-”

“If Sans finds out that you know this much, it’s on me,” he seethes. But he looks nervous. “I was wrong. You’re way too perceptive. You aren’t harmless.”

“Relax for a minute,” you say to him, leaning forward slightly. But he leans away from you. You were starting to feel guilty. The truth wasn’t worth making him feel this way. “I’m sorry,” you said, as sincerely as you could. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m just as freaked out as you are, but I-” You’re not sure what to add to that. “It’s not my place to badger you like that.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, placing the journal on the table. “If you decide to tell Sans, blame it all on me.”

He crossed his arms, stared hard at the journals before him. His voice is low when he says, “I can’t go back.”

You’re confused at first. You weren’t even sure you’d heard him right

“What do you mean?”

“That’s why Sans can’t know. I can’t go back to my reality,” he clarified, his sockets narrowed at you. “I won’t go back. It fucking sucks back there. That’s why I agreed to be friends with you to tell Sans everything I could. He promised to stop working on that machine until we could-” He paused. “Until he could figure out a sure way to bring Gaster back. Without worrying if it’ll take me-” he was going to say home, but you guessed that his old reality didn’t feel like home anymore.

The fact that Red was from a different reality was still shocking, but you tried your best to play it cool.

He was giving you information about himself that wasn’t all a lie.

You still felt guilty.

“I get it,” you said. “Tell him whatever you need to. I can tell this is important to you-”

“It is.”

“-so do whatever you need to.” Red stared at you, that lingering fear clear on his face. Just how bad was his reality that he looked this scared at the mere possibility of going back? “Would it help if you-” you shrug. “I don’t know. Take a while to give him an answer?”

“What do you mean?”

“Keep him updated about me,” you continue. “Lie to him. Tell him I haven’t revealed anything important.”

He raised a brow bone. “You said it yourself. I’m a terrible liar.”

You purse your lips. “So what do you suggest?”

His narrowed sockets soften when he looks at Gaster, a short sigh coming out of his nasal cavity. “It’s fine. Your idea is okay. We’ll go with that. But,” he said, pointing at your hand. “You need to hide that. He’s already seen it before, and if he sees it again, he’ll suspect you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious. I’ll throw you under the bus if he figures you out.”

“Noted.”

He nods toward your translated notebook. “He’ll think you’re a psychopath.”

“I’m worried about you, not him.”

Red looks taken aback. He stares at you, and for once you realize you do feel floaty. Like Cash said you would if you ever got checked. It lasted for less than a second, but it was noticeable. You decide to say nothing.

“You’re so weird,” Red says under his breath.

“So what is it then?”

Red gives you a questioning look.

“The journals, I mean. Why is journal fifteen so important?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “It has the original prototypes for the M6-89 machine. And it has the calculations necessary to change certain variables on another machine.” He opens the journal and turns to one of the last few pages, showing you a diagram of the machine. “The other machine is what Sans built that caused me and a few others to get pulled from our realities into this one.”

“How did he know if he didn’t have any of the journals?”

“He has the sixteenth journal. It’s the only journal Alphys thought to give him,” he explained. “ After they moved up here. But then he built it, and without the fifteenth journal to know how to change the variables, he fucked up and-” he gestured to himself with one hand. “We turned up instead of him . ”

Gaster tilted his head. He meant to bring me back?

Red nodded, and he began to sound annoyed. “That's all he does. He keeps trying. But he keeps fucking up. And I won’t give him my journal.”

“ Your journal?”

He nods. “I have the fifteenth journal from my reality. They’re pretty identical. But if he finds out how to change the variables, then he’ll stop worrying about bringing Gaster back.”

You realize what he’s saying. “And when he stops worrying about Gaster, he’ll start worrying about taking you back.”

He nods again.

“Does the sixteenth journal say anything about the stability of one reality if something’s been misplaced?”

“Oh,” he said after a moment. “You mean how long can a reality last with something missing or something added? No, it doesn’t. But I guess the seventeenth journal should.”

“And where is it?”

“Still lost. It wasn’t with the others. Why?”

You’re surprised he hadn’t thought about it. “If we find out the effects of something added to one reality, then that could change his mind. You could stay if seventeen says this reality is safe with you here.”

“And if it says it’s not?”

“Then you don’t tell him.”

“You really are insane,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “You think I’m capable of that?”

“Lying? Everyone is. Even if they think they aren’t.”

He shook his head as if in disbelief of the situation.

“Why did you decide to tell me all this? You could have kept lying.”

“I’m bad at lying.”

You give him a blank stare.

“It feels good to get something this serious off my chest,” he said after watching you for a moment. “Not a lot of people I can trust.”

“You trust me?”

“Absolutely not.” You frowned, but you’re surprised to hear him chuckle. “But Gaster does trust you.”

“He told me the same thing about you. Is that the only reason we trust each other, then? Because Gaster said so?”

Red shrugged, turning to Gaster. “Got something to say, faker? You’ve been too quiet.”

You two are friends.

“Whatever you say, buddy.”

You wondered why Red was so trusting of Gaster, especially after you learned that Red wasn’t from this reality. This meant he couldn’t have known this Gaster until recently, after getting his hands stained, at least.

“Did you meet your version of Gaster?”

Red doesn’t look at you, but he nods.

“Is your real name Sans?”

He nods again.

You look at Gaster. You wonder why Red is being truthful to you. He made it clear he doesn’t trust you. And still-

“Because you’re too smart to lie to. And you end up figuring things out, anyway.”

You turn sharply to stare at him.

Red stares back.

Despite his feelings toward you, you hoped he wouldn’t have to go back.

Chapter Text

There were many things left unsaid by the time Red left your apartment.

You didn’t ask to keep the journals, but Red left them with you, anyway. You didn’t ask about his reality, or about any of the other skeletons, or about what they should do next. He wondered why.

Instead of building Legos, as planned, they played Jenga. Red would move the bricks whenever it was Gaster’s turn. Despite his loss of appetite, he still ate the snacks she offered. Beyond that, they hadn’t done much.

Red took a shortcut home before the sun began to set, feeling drained by the time he collapsed on his bed.

He hadn’t meant to tell you everything. But was it his fault that you always seemed to figure things out? It was impossible to keep anything a secret from you. And he’d also been forcing himself to keep quiet about this situation, despite wanting to tell someone . Anyone.

It had been a while since he had the chance to voice his concerns. The last time he did, he and Sans hadn’t spoken for a week. Even with the jealousy he felt for Sans for having a better life relative to his own, Red didn’t like it when they were upset with each other. Sans was still healing. Red didn’t know from what, but he knew Sans wanted Gaster back. He couldn’t blame him for that.

He knew that with this fucked up situation he’d only be delaying the inevitable. One day, Red would have to face the fact that he’d have to go back.

But all this time spent in this reality had forced some of the skeletons to bond with one another.

His brother was especially close to Blue and this reality’s Papyrus, given their similar routines. Red knew at this point that even if Edge would never admit it, he considered them brothers.

“How’d it go?”

Red turned to where Sans stood in the doorway. He looked tired. Red was slightly glad he didn’t go with him today; it was mostly meetings so Sans would’ve dragged him to every single one. Even if he didn’t work there.

“It was fine,” Red shrugged. “We talked. Played Jenga. Not much else.”

“Seriously,” Sans asked. “You were there for hours. You didn’t learn anything?”

“She owns a lot of books,” Red said, turning to lie on his back. “She’s not allowed to have pets. She has younger siblings. She-”

“Right,” Sans interrupted with a sigh. “I forget this stuff takes a while. You’ll keep trying, though?”

Red chuckled into his pillow. “That’s what you’re paying me for, ain't it?”

“Be serious,” Sans said, crossing his arms. “I don’t-”

“I know you don’t trust her,” Red interrupts. “She seems harmless to me. All she thinks about is work and how skeletons breathe. But I’ll keep trying.”

“Okay. Thanks, bro.”

Bro . Maybe their lie would have gotten farther if they had just pretended to be brothers in the first place. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. If this is what it took for him to stay, for Edge to stay, he’d do it.

"No problem, dude."

Even if it meant lying to Sans. Or trusting her.

Chapter Text

You wanted to slam your head against a wall.

Almost a week ago, you had learned the truth about Red and where he was from. But now there was this threshold of awkwardness you couldn’t seem to get past. Red was busy most of the time, and any attempt at conversation received a curt response.

You had chased the high of discovering the truth, but Red’s reaction wasn’t worth it. You wished it could go back to mild suspicion and dodge conversations.

Twice you had asked him if he was upset with you in any way, and twice he had said he wasn’t. The guilt in the pit of your stomach had never left. It felt like a knife twisting through your intestines and getting lodged in one of your kidneys. You wondered how Red was feeling, but it was clear he wasn’t doing too great. He’d gone to the lab twice in the week and brought you coffee, but any conversation was practically nonexistent. You had concluded that he was merely pretending to be friendly for both your sakes to fool Sans.

On the bright side, Cash’s grocery trip with Black had gone great. He’d talked for nearly two hours about how different the surface was compared to the Underground, telling you how impossible it felt to see so much food stocked in the aisles. Black had let him go nuts in the snack aisle and he took full advantage. His comment about food made you wonder if he and his brother struggled for it in their reality.

The sound of the glass sliding doors to the lab snapped you out of your thoughts, and you craned your head to see who it was. You felt a sting in your chest as Sans and Red walked in, talking casually about something and walking towards Sans’ corner of the lab. You turned around, unaware that Red had walked toward you with some coffee.

He placed it on your desk and glanced at the spreadsheets on your computer, leaning down slightly. “That shit looks boring.”

It was the most he had said to you all week. “You think so?”

He hummed.

You placed your arm behind his neck and used your hand to grab his shoulder and pull him close, hiding your surprise that he let you get that close. To anyone else, it would have looked like you were trying to cuddle with him in an awkward manner. You ignored his confused stare, your eyes glued to your screen.

“Tell me what the fuck is wrong.”

“What are you-”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” you said, keeping your voice low. “Pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.” When he didn’t say anything, you pulled him closer. “Tell me so I can fix it.”

“Nothin’s wrong,” he insisted, furrowing his brow bones. “If I were mad I wouldn’t come to the lab, you idiot.”

“Bullshit.” But you let him go, turning to face him fully as you crossed your arms. “What have you been up to, then?”

“Not here,” he said, and before he could leave you stopped him.

“So when? Through text so you can give me automated responses? I feel like I’m talking to a calculator.”

“Not here,” Red repeated. “I’ll come by your place later. Are you free?”

“Later in the day.”

While Red had been not-ignoring you all week, you had taken his suggestion of moving out seriously. You’d been in contact with a landlord who had called you early that morning to let you know that your application was approved. Before work, you had stopped by her office to sign the lease and drop off the security deposit. The keys to your new home were in your car’s glove compartment, and you planned on heading there after work.

You thought about asking Red to help you move.

“Let me know when you get home.”

You nodded, returning to your screen and thanking him for the coffee. You tuned out whatever Red and Sans talked about and continued your work, eyeing the clock the entire time. At some point, Sans asked you to run a simulation you’d made for one of Alphys’ devices to double-check something. You made sure to wear your cotton gloves, rubbing your hands together to make it seem like you were freezing. Beyond that, there was little conversation. You waved goodbye to Red on your way out.

The drive to your new home was nerve-wracking. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision that Gaster had convinced you was a good idea. In truth, you had barely paid any attention to the details that mattered when you first showed up for a tour.

Gaster sat in the passenger seat, and you turned the heater on to avoid getting hypothermia. You were feeling out of breath for some reason, but you kept driving.

“I feel like you’re more excited about the new place than I am.”

Perhaps. I will finally have a room for myself.

“Who said you’re keeping a room,” you said, hiding your smile by pursing your lips. You’d never thought about a ghost wanting a room for themselves.

I want to have a window where I can see the water fountain.

“What fountain?” The house didn’t have a fountain.

The neighbor’s water fountain. It has a giant fish on top. We need a water fountain .

“No we do not,” you said, thinking of how much money you’d have to spend on new stuff for the house. “Not now at least.”

You didn’t object to the idea of letting him keep a room. There were three of them, anyway- two of which would be your bedroom and office. The extra space on the second floor had been a play area for the kids of the previous tenants, but you wanted to do something similar to Toriel’s library.

You knew you weren’t feeling well when you arrived at your new house, parking in the driveway in front of your garage instead of taking the time to open it and park inside. Gaster could tell and he watched with concern as you rested your forehead against the edge of the steering wheel, breathing slowly. You raised your head and reached for the keys in the glove compartment, but you were shaking.

You cursed to yourself, wondering if you’d caught a cold or a stomach virus. But this felt different.

“I think I’m gonna go to Toriel’s,” you breathed out, enough for Gaster to hear.

Good idea .

You decided not to drive. Earlier in the week, after your tour, you had walked around the neighborhood and had seen Toriel working on her garden. She had been shocked to see you but pleased at the mention of you looking at houses in the area. She had no idea you’d gotten approved, but you decided to take advantage of her invitation to her home. Maybe she could call you an ambulance if you passed out.

The walk was short and painful, a pressure in your chest that refused to go away, a different type of anxiety you’d never felt. You wanted to pass out when your phone rang, but a pang of guilt shot through your chest when you saw Red’s name. You answered.

“Where are you?”

“Um,” was all you could manage. “New house. Why?”

“What? You didn’t tell me you were moving.”

You swallowed thickly, but your mouth felt dry. “Did you need something? I’m kind of…” you trailed off. “Not feeling good.”

“What’s wrong?” Before you could say anything, he added, “Nevermind, just tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.”

You told him the address to your new home, but you didn’t tell him you were going to Toriel’s. You hung up on him, hoping he’d take long to get there. You were out of breath when you reached Toriel’s front door, knocking a few times.

Relief flooded you when the door swung open, but you paused when you saw who it was. Cash stared at you, his single socket wide in shock. You doubted he’d spent much time around other humans, so you knew he couldn’t tell you felt like you had a bowling ball on your chest.

“What’re you doin’ here?”

“I need to talk to Toriel,” you said, pushing past him weakly. He didn’t stop you, instead taking your arm and guiding you gently toward the living room. “I’m not…”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong,” he asked, his brow bones drawing down in concern.

“I’m not feeling good,” you said, blocking the light above you with your arm. The pressure on your chest felt heavy, and you noticed your heartbeat quickening. “Bring me the goat mother, Cash.”

He rolled his eye and left, calling out for Toriel. She was there in less than fifteen seconds,

“Hello, dear,” she greeted, but she noticed how you looked and sat beside you. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

“I’m not sure,” you stuttered, and the statement felt true but dumb to admit as you gripped at the fabric above your heart. “I feel panicky. There’s this pressure on my chest.”

“You look panicked,” she admitted, a patient smile on her face. “Slow down,” she said gently. “Tell me what’s the matter.”

“My heart feels like it’s going to explode,” you said. “I got the house. This morning. I was gonna check it out, but I started feeling weird .”

“Your heart,” she echoed. “Could you be having a panic attack? Anxiety attack?”

“This doesn’t feel like one,” you said, slightly dazed. “It could be a heart attack, a stroke- I don’t know.”

“Take deep breaths, dear,” Toriel said, and she began instructing you on your breathing.

“I’m sorry,” you said over her instructions. “I’m so sorry. I know I showed up without telling you, and you don’t even know me-”

“Nonsense,” she scolded you, but before she could add anything, one of the kids walked into the living room. She stared at you in confusion.

“What’s with her,” they asked, and another figure appeared beside them, but your vision was too blurry to see.

“Not now, Chara, she’s not feeling well,” Toriel told them.

“HAVE YOU TRIED CHECKING HER SOUL?”

Toriel looked stunned at the suggestion, glancing at you nervously. “I’m not sure if-”

“I UNDERSTAND, BUT SHE LOOKS ON THE VERGE OF FAINTING,” said the figure, and you would have believed it to be Red if his voice had been different. It was another skeleton, similar to Red in almost every way except for his eyes and his slightly more slender stature. “ARE YOU TWO NOT FRIENDS?”

“I’ll do it,” Cash interjected, joining your other side from where you stood.

The skeleton’s brows shot up in shock. “IS THAT A BOUNDARY YOU’D RISK CROSSING? HUMANS DON’T EXACTLY FEEL COMFORTABLE IF A STRANGER DOES IT.”

Cash didn’t say anything as he knelt in front of you. He noticed the confusion on your face and said, “Are you cool with it? It’s the best way to see if there’s anything wrong with you.”

You nodded, then watched as he tugged at the air near your chest. You failed to contain your shock as the floaty feeling took over, lasting much longer than whenever Red checked your stats. It felt much stranger, but it couldn’t top the small shape in front of you that glowed an alarming shade of orange. You stared at it, your brain struggling to process the fact that this was your soul in the shape of a cute little heart. The other skeleton had craned his neck to face the other way as if giving you privacy, but Chara, Cash, and Toriel inspected it.

Chara pointed at the glowing soul. “Hey, that’s what my soul looked like after Asgore healed me.”

All four adults in the room snapped their heads towards them, eyes wide and confused.

Toriel shook her head in disbelief. “Chara, what do you mean?”

“Yeah,” Chara confirmed after checking your soul closely. “This one time I got hurt really bad, so Asgore used some of his magic to heal me, but I got sick after. He said it was too much.”

You and Cash stared at Toriel, then back at Chara. Asgore the king of monsters?

“THEY’RE RIGHT.” The other skeleton had turned momentarily, and his aversion to your exposed soul seemed to vanish for just enough time to examine it. “THE COLOR IS MUCH TOO BRIGHT. LOOKS SWOLLEN, EVEN.”

“You’ve seen this before,” Cash asked incredulously. “In humans?”

“I HAVE,” he said with a shrug, and again he averted his eyes. He looked almost bored, like this was just a disturbance to his peace. “HAVE YOU HEALED HER BEFORE, TORIEL? MAYBE YOU USED TOO MUCH.”

“I have,” Toriel said, sounding guilty as she looked at you. “I must have used too much. I didn’t want to risk you getting an infection from that wound.”

You were quiet, stunned as Cash somehow put your soul away. Every time you spoke, the panic caused you to stutter slightly. “I don’t get it, why is too much healing magic a bad thing? My arm feels fine.”

“HUMANS DON’T HAVE THE SAME TOLERANCE TO MAGIC THAT MONSTERS DO, SINCE YOU’VE BEEN WITHOUT IT FOR SO LONG,” explained the other skeleton, his arms crossed and facing you. “SO IT’S COMMON FOR A HUMAN TO FEEL UNWELL IF TOO MUCH OF IT IS USED.”

“But she healed me,” you said, the feeling of floatiness gone but the pressure remained. “My arm. I saw the glow on my arm, not my soul. And I’m acclimated to monster food, isn’t that-”

“ALL MAGIC GOES TO THE SOUL. INJURY TO THE ARM OR HEAD OR LEG, IT DOESN’T MATTER. IF IT’S TOO MUCH, YOUR SOUL WILL REACT ACCORDINGLY. PRESSURE, PANIC, PARANOIA. AND BEING ACCLIMATED TO MONSTER FOOD ISN’T THE SAME AS HAVING MAGIC USED ON YOU.”

You stared at the stranger before you, wondering how he knew so much about human souls.  He was another version of Sans, you knew this, so how different was his reality for him to acquire this knowledge?

“How long have you been feeling this way,” Toriel asked.

You thought about the past weeks, recalling each mysterious sting in your chest and how you dismissed it as a pinched nerve or your imagination. But nothing had seemed out of the ordinary until a few moments before you called Red.

You sucked in a deep breath, the pain making you pause for a second. “All week. But not this bad until a few minutes ago.”

They looked at the other skeleton for some type of opinion or confirmation. He shrugged.

“HUMAN SOULS ARE UNPREDICTABLE. IT COULD HAVE TAKEN HOURS, DAYS, OR MONTHS FOR ANY EFFECT TO TAKE PLACE.” He looked away, his fingers tapping at his arm. “DEPENDING ON THEIR DURABILITY.”

“Durability?” You shook your head and turned to Cash. “Who is he?”

“My cousin Black.” Cash leaned down to add, “I told you about him.”

Black rolled his eyes and left the room, and you wondered if you had offended him by not asking him who he was. Your first impression hadn’t been great. Not after barreling inside Toriel’s home demanding to see her. He’d been exceedingly patient with you for some reason. You’d have to thank him when your soul wasn’t about to knock you into another dimension.

“Fuck,” you said, apologizing for your language immediately. “What do I do then? Do I just lay down until it goes away? I don’t-”

“Black,” Toriel called out.

“SHE JUST HAS TO WAIT IT OUT,” he shouted from another room.

You groaned, leaning back into the office chair. “This sucks.”

“I truly am sorry,” Toriel said, and you hated how guilty she sounded as if she could have ever anticipated it. “If I had known-”

“No, no, no,” you said quickly, your brows knitting together. “It’s not your fault, Toriel. You helped me, that’s all you did-”

“But you’re not feeling well because of me,” she said in frustration.

“What’s going on?”

You didn’t need to look up to see that Red had just walked in, Gaster materializing nearby and making you shiver. Red stared at Toriel, then at Cash. He waited for someone to say something. Toriel nodded once at Chara, and the child immediately left the room. You wanted to ask how Red knew you’d be at Toriels, but one look at Gaster’s apologetic smile told you enough.

“I heard Black say something about waiting it out,” Red said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You hadn’t seen if he was wearing gloves or not. “Wait what out?”

“I used too much healing magic and now her soul is,” Toriel paused, unsure how to describe it. “There’s too much of it in her soul. The magic.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having a magic heart attack,” Red asked. He sounded offended.

You looked away and glanced at Gaster. “Would it have mattered?”

“I was on the phone with you not even ten minutes ago. I could’ve helped.”

“With what? Cash already checked my soul, it’s fine-”

“He what ?”

Cash stiffened beside you, and you fought every urge to stare at him in confusion. You didn’t even want to look at Red, despite your uncertainty about what he was upset about.

“You let him ,” Red asked as he pointed at Cash. He was wearing his gloves, you noticed. “You don’t even know him.”

You blinked at him in confusion. “Is that a big deal? It’s not like-”

Red stared at you with a look of bitter betrayal, but you stared back and waited for an answer. It took a split second of that floating feeling to get you to narrow your eyes at him.

“Could you not-”

“You trust him? You just met him,” he interrupted.

“That is enough,” Toriel snapped. She turned to Red. “She needs rest, and you will not shout at her while she’s in pain. Whatever argument you’re trying to have can wait.”

Red looked embarrassed as if just now realizing that you were in pain and in no position to talk about something that seemed sensitive. He ran a hand over his skull and muttered something to himself, purposefully avoiding your gaze.

Toriel took your hand in her paw and helped you up, even though walking wasn’t the issue. Neither Red nor Cash said anything as she guided you down a hallway. When you were halfway down the hall, you turned to Toriel.

“Why is Red so upset about Cash checking my soul?”

Toriel laughed nervously as she opened the door and turned the light on. You knew she was trying to get you to rest after what had occurred, but you didn’t want to. You needed to find out what was bothering Red.

“Well, checking a person’s soul is usually…” She cleared her throat. “Intimate. You only allow those close to you to do what Cash did.”

“Like friends, or…?”

She tilted her head. “In emergencies, such as this one, friends are okay. But usually, it’s saved for…” she cleared her throat, “... romantic partners.”

“Oh.” Your train of thought abandoned you, but your face felt hot.  “You didn’t check for me because we aren’t friends?”

“It’s not that,” Toriel said quickly, reaching into the wardrobe to pull out a blanket. “I just figured you’d want Cash to do it since you and him are closer.”

You nodded, letting her guide you towards the bed where you wrestled with a mountain of decorative pillows. Once you settled, she pulled up a chair and sat by you, a look of regret on her furry face.

“I truly am sorry,” she said, looking elsewhere to avoid your eyes. “I’ve spent most of my life healing others. I never thought that in doing so, I might one day cause pain.”

“I don’t blame you,” you said truthfully. “Black said all I do is wait it out, right? Better than dealing with an infection or getting a tetanus shot.”

“I suppose,” she sighed, rising from her seat. “I will let you rest. Come out when you feel better.”

“I could just go home-”

“When you feel better,” she repeated, walking out the door and turning off the light.

You sighed deeply and closed your eyes. The panic of not knowing what was happening was mostly gone, replaced by a dull pressure that felt like you were at the deep end of the ocean. You tried your best to breathe normally.

The room dropped in temperature.

Gaster sat at the edge of the bed near your legs.

Are you upset with me for telling Red?

“For telling him that I was here?” You shook your head. “No, I’m not. I’m just worried.”

For?

“Red being upset.”

Gaster’s chuckle echoed in your head. You opened your eyes to glare at him.

“What?”

It’s obvious. You are sometimes dense .

You rolled your eyes. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask Red later.”

That would be best .

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he. Ten minutes passed, and he remained.

“Are you staying? You don’t have to.”

I want to . You are my friend.

You stared at him for a moment. “Okay.”

You had already dozed off before Gaster moved to rest on the floor beside you, his head leaning against the bed frame.

Chapter Text

You woke up two hours later.

Gaster was sitting on the floor beside the bed, the black mass that made up his body pooling around him like a drop of ink. His eyes were closed. You reached out to touch him with a gloved hand, but you hesitated. Instead, you sat up and pulled the blanket off, noticing how your chest felt lighter. There was still pressure there, but it had significantly decreased.

“Gaster,” you whispered, trying your best not to startle him. You glanced at the windows blocked by curtains. It wasn’t hard to deduce that it was dark out. “Gaster,” you tried again, and he opened his eyes slowly.

How do you feel ?

“Better,” you said, watching as he faded and materialized beside you. “Are you okay? You didn’t stay here for that long, did you?”

He rose to his full height, towering above you as he spoke. I did. Is that hard to believe?

“No, it’s just-” you shrugged. “Doesn’t that make you tired? Just being here?”

No .

You scrutinized him. “Are you lying to me?”

You are impossible to lie to , he said, his tone playful. I promise you I do not feel tired .

“You and I are bound, Gaster,” you said, walking to the door and leaving the room. “I should be looking out for you just as much as you look out for me.”

He walked down the hallway as you followed the sounds to the kitchen. I am bound to you, but you are not bound to me . If something happens to me, you are not affected. But anything that happens to you, I can feel.

You stopped and turned to face him, your heart starting to pound just slightly. “Were you in pain the whole time I was freaking out earlier? I felt like I was dying , Gaster.”

He looked alarmed. Yes, but do not worry about me-

“Why wouldn’t I worry? You were in pain and still tried to help me,” you asked, your brows knitting together. You kept your voice low, hoping the others wouldn’t hear you. “And you stayed with me-”

You could hear the static in your head growing louder, his distress mirroring the increasing sound. It would have kept going if Red hadn’t walked out of the kitchen, eyes wide in shock as he spotted you and Gaster down the hall. Someone said something to him, and Red responded quickly before joining your side. He guided you back to the room where you’d come from, closing the door behind him. You searched your surroundings for Gaster, but he didn’t appear.

“He feels my pain,” you said first, and Red gave you a look of confusion. “Gaster, he felt what I felt. Did he tell you?”

Red nodded slowly. “That’s why he came to get me. He thought I could help you, but-” he stopped, balling his hands into fists. He swung his arms slightly as if not to appear upset.

“But what?”

He didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t hide the look of hurt on his face. Red happened to be very expressive.

“Is this about Cash?”

“He told me, by the way.” He walked over and sat on the chair Toriel had occupied earlier, looking tired. “About the factory. And when you fell through the floor. And how he took you here to get healed.”

You winced, wishing you could see Gaster to see if he was okay, but the room was no longer cold. “Red, let me-”

“What? Cash already explained it all,” he said, resting his chin on a gloved hand. He wasn’t looking at you.

You were about to say that he hadn’t missed much. Your soul was plain orange and looked weird due to the magic, but Red knew your soul was orange. How else could he have known? Unless he had checked your soul.

“How did you know my soul was orange?”

“I didn’t,” Red said, magic flooding his face in a muted glow. You could see the subtle change despite the lack of light. “Knowing the color of a human’s soul can only happen if someone checks it out,” he said, failing not to sound bitter when he added, “Like when Cash checked yours.”

“You said it was, though,” you reminded him. “When you called me untrustworthy. That day we found the journal, remember?”

“That was just an assumption I made,” he said, noticing your suspicion. “A wrong assumption. It’s impossible to know what color if you don’t see it firsthand.”

“So, you’ve never checked my soul.” He shook his head ‘no’. You raise one brow. “But checking my stats all the time is okay?”

“It’s different ,” Red said, his voice slightly louder. “Checking stats is like asking how your day’s going. It’s not personal. Checking a soul is-it’s more…” he groans, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Intimate, I guess.”

“Is that why you were upset that Cash checked it?” He was quiet at first. “Did you want to be the one to check it?”

Magic returned to his face as he turned his head slightly. “It makes sense,” he said quickly, tugging at the collar of his crewneck.

“What does?”

“I know more than him,” he said, emphasizing each word. “ I know about Gaster, I know about the journals.” He stood up, gesturing towards you. “And I’m keeping this all from Sans for you . Cash barely knows anything about you-”

You were confused. “So it should’ve been you? Because we’re the ones with the big secret?”

“Yes!” He plopped down on the chair and crossed his arms, staring straight at you. “We’ve been keeping the biggest secret from someone I consider a brother, but you have more trust in someone you met in a factory .”

Oh. He wanted that to mean something to you. You frowned.

“I didn’t know you were going to show up at Toriel’s,” you said, stepping closer as you pointed at him. “And I thought you didn’t trust me after you found those journals.”

“You’re so dense.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, leaning forward to bring your accusing finger down. His voice softened just a bit. “Of course I trust you. Why else would I have left the journals with you?”

“You had no other choice,” you said. “And you’ve been ignoring me all week. I thought-.”

“Not on purpose,” he clarified, standing up to take you by the shoulders. “I was going to tell you, but I got busy. I have a job and other things to worry about.”

You felt embarrassed, every ounce of annoyance gone. Of course, Red had other pressing matters to worry about. You weren’t the only thing he had on his plate, and you felt guilty for making him stress out about you. You avoided his eyes.

“Gaster was mad at me, too,” he said, and you knew he was trying to make you feel less embarrassed. “I ignored him when he visited me at work the other day.”

“Jeez, he and I are so needy,” you said. He let go of your shoulders as you covered your face with your hands, your words sounding muffled. “I’m sorry. I was-”

But Red couldn’t hear you well because he asked you to repeat yourself.

“I said I’m sorry ,” you repeated, dropping your hands to tug at your gloves. You grew frustrated with them and took them off. “I was rude for assuming you had nothing else to do.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. He glanced at your hand. The ink was still there, and you subconsciously stuffed your hand into your sweater pocket. “It’s not a big deal.”

“But my soul,” you brought up again.

“What about it?”

“Are you upset with Cash because he checked it or with me for letting him?”

He looked away and tried hiding the magic flooding his face for the third time. “Does it matter?”

“I think it does,” you said, but Red was already walking towards the door to leave. “If you’re mad at Cash it’s because you don’t want him checking a stranger’s soul, right? But if you’re mad at me it’s because I let him check me instead of waiting for you.”

“I’m not mad at either of you,” he said, walking down the hallway. You followed him.

You continue rambling. “But I’m okay with Cash because he and I are buddies, and Toriel said it was fine because of that, but why would you be” and you stop, the look of realization worrying Red for a moment. “Is it because you want me and you to be friends?”

His brows dropped, and his expression went blank. “Yes, that’s exactly it.”

“You could’ve just said so,” you said with a patient smile as you continued walking. “I thought you hated me for finding out about everything.”

“Well, I don’t,” he clarified. “It was just… stressful. No one’s ever…” he shook his head as if to dismiss an unwanted thought.

“My bad.”

He rolled his eyes and continued walking, leading the way to the kitchen. Upon entering, you spotted Black speaking with Toriel as she stirred a pot on the stove. She noticed you walking in and beamed. 

“Are you two alright,” she asked, but then focused her attention on you. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” you told` her with a smile. “I appreciate you letting me sleep here for a bit.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” she said. “You’re always welcome here.”

Red leaned against the nearby counter, but you chose to sit across Cash. He waved at you, and you waved back.

Black crossed his arms as he glanced between you both with one raised browbone. “DID YOU TWO KISS AND MAKE UP?”

“Shut up,” Red said, walking over to him. “It’s not like that.”

“ISN’T IT? WHY ELSE WOULD YOU- AGH!”

Toriel didn’t even react as Red pulled him into a headlock, his smile wide as Black struggled in his grip. “Are you gonna shut the fuck up, or do you need me to kick your ass?”

“I WAS TEASING,” Black protested, and to your surprise, he started to laugh. “YOU TWO WERE GONE FOR AGES-”

“And?”

Black finally managed to wrench himself free from Red’s grip and held his palms up as if to surrender. “YOU’RE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF YOUR LADY,” Black said, stepping farther and farther away. “HAVE SOME DECORUM.”

You blinked in surprise, not at Black’s comment but at his personality. After Cash had described him, you’d thought him to be uptight. And when he explained the whole soul thing to you, he stayed logical and polite. But here he was, teasing and laughing with Red as if they were best friends. Hell, maybe they were. You looked at Cash and noticed the same confused expression as if he’d never seen this side of Black.

“You’re not funny, dude,” Red said as he joined your side anyway, sitting in the seat closest to you.

“QUEEN TORIEL THOUGHT MY JOKES WERE QUITE CLEVER,” Black said from behind the counter.

You wondered if he meant the Toriel from his reality or the one cooking soup in the kitchen. How different would she be compared to the sweet woman who welcomed you with open arms despite knowing so little about you?

“I still do,” Toriel called from the kitchen.

Cash pulled something out of his pocket and hid it under the table. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, and you pulled it out.

$$$: I’ve never seen him act this way.

Me: I figured. I didn’t think Black and Red got along after what you told me

$$$: Me either, I’ve only been here a couple of months

$$$: But I’ve only seen him be mad and impatient

$$$: Never this

Me: Sus

You looked up to see Cash roll his eye at you.

“WILL YOUR DEAREST BE STAYING FOR DINNER,” Black asked Red, resting his elbows on the countertop and his chin in one hand. You felt your face heat up.

Red glared, but before he could say anything, you spoke up. “I don’t think I should. I need to get home and start packing-”

“You got the house,” Cash asked excitedly.

You nodded with a smile, feeling your pockets for the car keys. “The house keys are still in my car.”

“YOU’RE MOVING TO ELK GROVE?”

“Yeah, it’s about a five-minute walk from here,” you said. “So, Toriel and I will be neighbors.”

“That makes it way easier to hang out,” Cash pointed out. Red sent him a disapproving glare.

“We talked about this. Being friends with her will only make Sans suspicious-”

“ If he finds out.”

Red pinched the bridge of his nasal bone. “It’s not worth the risk, Cash. Sans doesn’t trust her-”

“WHY NOT?”

Red turned to look at Black, trying his best to appear calm. “It’s Sans. He doesn’t trust every human.”

Black raised a brow bone. “THAT DOESN’T SOUND LIKE HIM AT ALL.”

No one said a word. Red turned away, and Black fixed his gaze on you. You shrugged, feigning innocence. It’s not like you knew the one secret every skeleton shared.

“SO, WILL YOU BE STAYING FOR DINNER OR NOT?”

“I shouldn’t-”

“Nonsense,” Toriel said, entering the kitchen. “You should eat after what’s happened. And driving home doesn’t sound wise in your situation. What if you feel unwell again?”

“I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t want to overstay your welcome. “Red could drive me home.”

“TRUST ME, YOU DON’T WANT THAT,” Black said.

Red glared at him. “I could shortcut her home.”

“AND RISK CAUSING HER MORE HARM WITH THAT TYPE OF MAGIC?”

You wanted to ask what he meant by ‘shortcut her home’, but Toriel spoke up. “I think it’s best if you stay for the night. Red could help move your belongings-”

“I can help, too,” Cash offered.

“ No ,” Red said a little too harshly. He cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck sheepishly. “I mean, it’d be quicker if Black and I just move all her stuff.”

“It’s fine! I have work tomorrow, so I need to go home anyway,” you mentioned, but Red waved that concern away.

“Toriel’s right,” Red said. “You should stay here for the night. I’ll call Alphys for you.”

Their generosity was enough to make you feel overwhelmed. And inadequate. You felt like they were babying you, even if you weren’t feeling as bad as before. Black hadn’t even protested at the idea of helping move your belongings, but you plan on bringing that up later.

You didn’t contribute to the conversation during dinner. A steaming bowl of vegetable soup sat before you, the fragrance making your stomach growl. But your brain was too scattered to fuel your appetite.

You were worried about Gaster. Not once had the room grown cold, and you picked at your ink-stained fingers anxiously as you wondered why he hadn’t appeared. Had you upset him?

Red sent Cash and Black home after dinner, but not before Black could pull you aside for a few seconds.

He leaned toward you, whispering conspiratorially. “I DON’T THINK I’VE EVER SEEN HIM THIS JEALOUS.”

You blinked in confusion. “Why would Red be jealous? Of what,” you asked, glancing at Red.

“OH, YOU ARE QUITE DENSE,” Black muttered. “I MEAN JEALOUS OF YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH CASH.”

“I don’t think he is,” you said, shaking your head. “He’s probably just worried about Sans finding out.”

Black hummed, crossing his arms. “IF THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK.”

You watched as he walked away, leaving you to think alone. Red stayed for a little bit, but he had to leave eventually.

In the end, you did stay the night. Your protests had been futile. But all you could do was lay awake and stare at the ceiling, talking aloud to Gaster in hopes that he was listening.

Your body refused to let you stay awake for much longer.

Even when you felt the temperature in the room had dropped. Even when you saw the shape of a tall shadow from the corner of your eye. Even when you heard the familiar static of his presence.

The sound of him lulled you to sleep.

Chapter Text

When you woke in the morning, it was to pull the blankets tighter around you. In your half-conscious state, you knew Gaster was near, but you kept your eyes close. You wondered how it was possible to feel his coldness through the blanket.

You nearly drifted off to sleep again, but the door creaking open startled your senses. Someone stepped in, closed the door behind them, and got close to the bed. You felt a light touch on your shoulder, shaking you.

“Wake up,” Red whispered, and your only response was a muffled groan. “I brought you something.”

It was enough to get you to focus more but not to turn and face him. You heard him pull up a chair and sit.

“Can it wait?”

“Sure,” he said with a chuckle, “but coffee gets cold eventually.”

You roll over and sit up, but when your vision takes focus, there’s no coffee. Red is holding a journal out to you.

“You’re such a liar,” you said with furrowed brows, glaring at the journal. “What’s that?”

“Your coffee is in the kitchen. But this is the fifteenth journal.” When he noticed your confusion, he added, “From my reality.”

Your eyes widened, and you peeled the covers away to sit. “For what,” you asked, even though your hands itched to grab it. Red doesn’t respond immediately, so you take the time to keep your hands busy and make the bed.

“I thought you might want to look at it,” he said as you sat down again. “To explain why I’ve been so busy.”

You didn’t know what those two things had to do with each other, but you turned to him and eyed the journal.

He waved it in front of you. “Take it.”

You grabbed it, but instead of opening the journal, Red asked if you wanted to grab your coffee from the kitchen. You followed him down the hall. Gaster decided to retreat to the void he inhabited. Privacy , he said. The promised cup of coffee was on the kitchen island, and you sat at the nearest barstool.

“What does this journal have to do with whatever you’ve been up to?”

Instead of answering, he nods for you to open the journal. You feel the indentations on the back first, the familiarity of the WingDings writing almost comforting beneath your fingertips. It begins like the other one, but you study the differences. You notice this one is far neater, the penmanship legible where sometimes you’d struggle to decipher it. Everything is in black ink except for corrections or extra notes made in red.

“He’s neat,” you comment. If Gaster were here, he’d say something to defend himself.

“He was ,” Red corrected. “I’ve been using my journal to rebuild the machine according to the variable that could bring Gaster back.”

“What machine?”

“The machine Sans used that brought me here. He’s got a few prototypes in storage somewhere,” he said with a shrug. “So, I took one.”

“He hasn’t noticed?”

Red shook his head. “Meetings and late nights keep him busy. He rarely goes down to the basement anymore.” He looked away, his stare distant. “Not since I told him to stop, at least.”

But that was a risk. Even if Red got caught, he’d have no reason to mention you. Still, Red getting caught for anything was the last thing you wanted to happen.

“Do you plan on moving it out of there?”

Red looked at you in confusion. “Why would I?”

“What if Sans-”

“I doubt Sans is gonna go down there anytime soon,” he interrupted.

“But if he does,” you said, leaning forward, keeping your voice low. “You’d risk it?”

You looked down at the journal’s pages, eyes tracing over every word. Red could hide that you knew, but not that he had his copy of a journal Sans was looking for. If he found the machine, Red’s secrets would pour out one by one. It was only a matter of time.

“What if you leave it at my place?”

“ That shoebox,” Red snorted.

“Rude,” you say at the same time as he apologizes. “I mean my new place, idiot. It has a basement.” The basement in question was a door off to the side when you entered the garage, but you hadn't looked at it fully just yet.

“You’re funny, but no,” Red said with a firm shake of his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Oh, but you can ,” you said with a smile. “We’re friends, remember?”

He stared at you. You take a sip of your coffee.

“No,” he repeated, trying his best to sound final.

“Fine,” you said with a shrug, flipping through the pages of the journal. “But if you get caught, don’t drag me into this.”

Red’s sockets widened. “You wouldn’t tell him.”

“Never said I would.”

No, you’d never snitch. But if this is what it took for Red to let you help, so be it.

“Fine.” He sighed in defeat. “You can’t take no for an answer, can you?”

“I just don’t think it’s worth the risk. It’ll be safe at my place.”

Red ran a hand over his skull, and you winced at the noise. But you notice that for the first time, he isn’t wearing gloves. Or his jacket. The plain black hoodie makes him seem smaller than when he wears his usual jacket. Still, your eyes remain glued to his hand.

You glanced around the empty kitchen. “You’re not wearing your gloves?”

Red paused to look at you and pulled his hand down. “Not today.”

You outstretch a hand, but he looks at you in confusion. “Can I?”

“What? Look at my hand?”

You nod, and after another pause, he relents. His palm is face-up, and you notice the ink placement first. “Yours is different.” You place your hand aside his, also palm-up.

Most of the ink on your right hand had stained your pointer and middle finger past the second knuckle. Your thumb was nearly covered in ink, but your ring finger and pinky had the least amount- though still noticeable.

Each finger on Red’s hand was sharpened to a dull point, making them look more like claws than anything. But Red’s ink placement was, indeed, different. His palm was stained black, slightly fading back to the white of his fingers at each point.

You guessed these differing placements had to do with how you’d first managed to touch Gaster, tapping at his back when you believed him to be Cash. It looked as if Red had tried to push Gaster.

“Your stain is more noticeable than mine,” you said. “Why?”

“I thought he was my brother telling me to go to bed one time, and when I freaked out, I…” he shrugged, then chuckled in embarrassment. He pulled out his other hand to show you. Both his hands were identical. “My hands went right through him.”

“What else happened?”

Red pulled his hands back and stuffed them into his hoodie pocket. “With what?”

“This past week,” you clarified. “Besides the machine.”

“I talked to Gaster.” Red looked away as if embarrassed. “He calmed me down about this whole situation.”

You nodded slowly. Maybe that was why Red had been so nice to you. Gaster had spoken to him on your behalf.

“I have to go,” you said after a moment. “Where’s Toriel?” You glanced around the kitchen again, even though you knew it was empty.

“Went out. Where do you need to go?”

“I have to start packing.”

“I’ll come with you.”

You smiled at him teasingly. “Do you have nothing else to do?”

Red shook his head. “Nope.”

And so you left. Cash had told you Red was a hermit not long ago, but he hadn’t mentioned how clingy he was. In truth, you didn’t mind at all. Beyond the secret-keeping, you liked being friends with Red. He was way nicer than he let on, a hidden softness that intrigued you.

The walk to your car was short, but in the cold, it felt long. You still wore the clothes Toriel had lent you, which were too baggy and long. You’d forgotten to grab your clothes from the guest room, the excitement of having a new house pushing you forward. You gave Red a quick tour of your new home, his only comment being, “Way too big for someone to live alone in.”

Your body involuntarily shivered as you climbed into the front seat of your car, but you’d gotten used to the cold since Gaster first appeared, even though your body seemed to disagree.

“Should you be driving,” Red asked, but you shrugged nonchalantly and started the car.

“Let’s find out.”

Red didn’t comment on your driving skills, which weren’t bad compared to the other idiots on the road. When you reached your apartment, though, a sting in your chest made you lose focus as you sat in the car. Red didn’t notice and waited for you to get out.

You were grateful he didn’t say anything about the poor state of your apartment. Textbooks piled high on the small dining table, research papers and manila folders scattered around, your large mirror covered in sticky notes and dry-erase marker writing. Your bed was also unmade, and a pile of clothes sat in a heap ready to be folded.

“I called Alphys for you,” he said, closing the apartment door behind him. “Told her you felt sick.”

“What did she say?”

“ Why are you calling for her, ” he said, mimicking her voice in a high-pitched tone. You glared at him, and he rolled his eyes. “I told her to mind her business.”

“You don’t like her?”

“Fuck no.”

You wanted to ask why. Alphys was more likely to apologize to a caterpillar for startling it rather than speak up about how it had gotten in the way. You didn’t think she was capable of doing anything mean. When Red saw your contemplative look, he sighed.

“It’s just me. I have my own reasons not to like your boss.”

You wanted to ask if those reasons had anything to do with Alphys from his reality or if the Alphys you know had done something to earn this behavior from Red. You dismissed the thought.

“Okay,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Let’s fucking do this.”

Whenever you mentioned renting a moving truck, Red waved a dismissive hand and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t elaborate on why you shouldn’t worry about it, so you worried about it, anyway. Red commented now and then on your taste in decoration- he meant the sticky notes with random thoughts- or your odd organizing habits- the way put everything in piles like a squirrel.

When everything was finally boxed up and ready, you were facedown on the floor, your stomach growling. You’d skipped breakfast to finish quicker, and now you paid the price. Red was lying on your mattress, staring up at the ceiling. The only thing left to do was load everything into your car and drive back to your new house, which would take more than two trips.

“Ready to go,” you asked him, and he gave you a dismissive wave. You sat up.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Your lips pursed and you picked up the first box instead of responding. When Red realized what you’re doing, he stood up in haste and tried to take the box.

“I’m serious, dude. I’ll take care of it,” he said, looking apologetic.

You relent and give him the box. “I feel fine,” you said in frustration. “If I’m capable of packing everything, then I can- what the fuck!?”

You were sure your brain had made it up, and the sudden change had startled you enough to take several steps back. You balled your hands into fists, unsure of what to do. Where’d he go , you thought, staring at the empty spot where Red once stood, your mouth open in shock.

After a few seconds, he returned, and then you were sure you were losing your mind. It looked as if he had stepped out from behind an invisible wall, just as he had earlier, but with no box in his hands.

“Did you just teleport ,” you asked in a whisper, your voice laced with disbelief.

“Sort of,” Red said with a shrug. “It’s more like sliding in and out of hidden pockets within a plane to reach a certain point. The shortcut thing I talked about.”

“So you can teleport?”

Red rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. “Sure, why not?”

“Where did you just go?”

“Where do you think?”

You knitted your brows together, watching as he continued to take each box and phase in and out of existence before your eyes. You did not interrupt him, your brain going a million miles an hour. How on earth was this possible ? Did he have any idea how long scientists have argued over the possibilities of teleportation? And he was doing it in a shitty studio apartment without a care in the world!

But then your mind wandered beyond that ability, and your heart began to beat faster.

When he reached for the mattress, you stopped him.

“Hold on,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can anyone else in your family teleport?”

“Why,” he asked slowly, eyes darting away.

“Because if that’s possible, then anyone who can teleport could’ve come in and left the fifteenth journal.”

Red didn’t react at first, but his sockets widened slightly. He shook his head slowly. “Nah, that can’t be it.” He sat on the mattress. “Only me and Sans are from those realities.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked at you, shrugging as if it were obvious. “Only Sans and I came from a reality where Gaster was the Royal Scientist. Black, Blue, and Mal- their Gasters weren’t. So none of them would have created any journal like the ones we’ve got.”

“So it could’ve been-”

“No,” he said sharply. “Not Sans. If he knew, he would’ve said so.”

“So who?”

It still could be Black, Blue, or Mal. But you’d never met Blue and Mal, and if what Red said was true, there was no way for them to find the fifteenth journal and sneak in to leave it in your apartment. And you doubted Black knew where you lived.

“Can’t be any of them,” he said, shaking his head and standing. “No reason for them to.”

Your mind wouldn’t stop thinking of the impossible, but you let it go. “Okay.”

Red disappeared a few more times until the only thing left in the apartment was the appliances that were there the day you moved in. You two stood in the emptiness, the anxious worm in your brain asking if you were positive nothing was left.

“Can you teleport with other people,” you asked Red.

He chuckled. “Yeah, but not you.”

“How come?”

“‘Teleporting,’” he said, using his fingers as air quotes, “Takes magic. And your soul has too much of it right now.”

You nodded, but Red could tell you were disappointed.

“Next time,” he said, patting your back as he walked to the door.

You watched him leave and followed shortly, looking back at the apartment one last time.

You hoped that whatever ghost haunted the place stayed there.

Chapter Text

You were alone after driving back to Toriel’s house.

Red said he’d return at night, but it gave you plenty of time to deal with the water and electric companies instead of unpacking. You spent hours on the phone to get everything straight, and they’d promised to have everything good to go soon, but until then, Toriel had assured you that her door was always open for you.

When Chara and Frisk came home from school, you were fresh out of the shower and still procrastinating on unpacking. The kids kept you busy for the most part, asking you to draw animals from memory on purpose to then laugh at the result. 

Toriel was reading in her study while you helped them with math homework at the kitchen table later in the evening, and Chara was on the verge of quitting because of triangles. A sudden voice made you jump while you corrected some of their work.

“STILL HERE?”

You turned to look at Black, craning your neck to see if Red was also with him. He wasn’t.

“Yeah,” you answered, giving him a small wave. “Red helped me move all my stuff earlier.”

“OH,” Black said, pulling out a chair next to Frisk. He leaned toward them slightly, pointing at something on their homework. Frisk scribbled furiously. “I THOUGHT HE WOULD’VE CALLED ME TO ASSIST. DID HE MANAGE OKAY?”

You nodded. “He teleported everything.”

Black looked up, his eyes hovering over your chest- where your soul lay. When he looked up and met your eyes, magic flooded his cheeks. “MY APOLOGIES. HE DIDN’T SHORTCUT WITH YOU, DID HE?”

You shook your head, disappointment on your face. “He said not until I feel better.”

“THAT’S GOOD,” Black said, rubbing his cheek. Is that how skeletons got the magic to leave their face? “AND DO YOU? FEEL BETTER, I MEAN.”

You nodded, but your conversation was interrupted when Chara poked your shoulder to grab your attention to explain the challenging stuff. When you finished, you turned to Black.

“Are you always here?”

Black shrugged. “FOR THE MOST PART. WHENEVER I DON’T WANT TO GO HOME.”

“Is that often?”

Black looked away, quiet for a moment. “LATELY, YES.”

“It’s because Cash’s brother fights him all the time,” Chara said to you, and Black furrowed his brow.

“THAT’S NOT FOR YOU TO SHARE,” he said through gritted teeth.

“That's all you complain about!”

Black crossed his arms and leaned back, grumbling, “SHE ALREADY KNOWS, DIMWIT.”

“You’re right,” Chara said with a smile. “Cash tells her everything because they’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Woah, okay, that’s enough. You shouldn’t lie about stuff like that,” you said, your hand on Chara’s shoulder. You whispered, “Come on, kiddo, don’t be mean to him.”

“He’ll live.”

Frisk dragged a hand over their face in annoyance. You helped them with the last of their homework and checked their work. They left the kitchen soon after, leaving you and Black alone.

“Chara scares me sometimes,” you admit in a whisper.

“THEY’RE ALL TALK.” Black looked away from the doorway, eyes settling on you. “THOUGH, I’M ASSUMING CASH DOES TELL YOU EVERYTHING.”

You nodded hesitantly. “Sort of. Not everything. I was there when Red got the call that you and Mal fought, and Sans left to handle it. Cash told me later that you won.”

“I DID,” he said, not trying to hide the smug look on his face. “WHAT ELSE DID HE SAY ABOUT ME?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Do you want to know?”

Black nodded.

You sucked in a breath. “You’re competitive. You don’t get along with everyone. You’re a stick in the mud. You think you’re better than everyone else.”

He let out an embarrassed chuckle and cleared his throat. “HE’S NOT ENTIRELY WRONG.”

“But you don’t act that way around Red. As far as I know.” Or Toriel, for that matter.

“RED AND I ARE FRIENDS,” Black shrugged, and you decided not to pry for more information.

Red said earlier that Black wasn’t from a reality like his. In Black’s reality, Gaster was never a royal scientist. But if their realities were so different, how had they gotten along? It had to be more than their matching shark-like teeth and brightly colored eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

Black looked at you for a second before giving a hesitant nod. “GO AHEAD.”

“Why do they call you Black if your eyes are purple?”

Black’s eyes dilated, and you leaned back in shock. Red’s eyes constantly changed size when you were with him, but you still hadn’t gotten used to it.

A smile spread across his face. “WHY DO YOU ASK?”

“I asked him a while ago, but Red said they call him that because of his eyes, and it’s the same thing with Blue. I thought maybe,” you shrugged, trailing off.

“RIGHT,” Black said, his eye contact never wavering. “AND MY EYES ARE… PURPLE TO YOU? DO YOU THINK MY NAME WOULD BE ‘PURPLE’?”

“I guess, yeah. I-I thought maybe your name would stick to the theme,” you said, and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment when Black smiled like he was about to laugh.

“THE THEME?” Black repeated, and he giggled. Now that caught you off guard.

When he noticed your looks of distress, he stopped.

“NO, NO, DON’T BE EMBARRASSED,” he said, but he was trying not to laugh. “YOU’RE RIGHT. THERE IS A THEME.”

You leaned forward and looked at him with furrowed brows in confusion. “Then why are you laughing at me?”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO. I JUST THINK IT’S FUNNY,” Black said, his smile easygoing. To anyone else, it would have looked menacing with such sharp teeth. “RED WAS THE ONE WHO CHOSE MY NAME. OR NICKNAME, I SHOULD SAY."

“How did he fuck up that bad?”

Black tilted his head. “WELL, HE’S COLORBLIND.”

Shit . Your eyes widened, but that didn’t answer your question. “He’s what ?”

Black was smiling patiently again, and you wondered if he was doing it condescendingly. “I CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT IT’S CALLED. BUT TO HIM, MY EYES HAVE NO COLOR. SO HE CAN’T SEE THAT THEY’RE-”

“Purple,” you interrupted with a nod.

“THEY’RE INDIGO.”

“They don’t call you Indigo.”

“THEY DON’T CALL ME PURPLE, EITHER.”

Black further explained that Red had trouble distinguishing Black’s indigo eye from the black of his socket, so they muddled together most of the time. You figured that, to Red, Black must look scary without any eyes.

But you stopped him mid-sentence when he tried to add something else. “Why are you telling me this?”

Black shrugged. “YOU WERE HONEST ABOUT CASH’S OPINION OF ME.”

“Okay.” That was a valid answer. “But why wouldn’t Red tell me himself? That he’s colorblind?”

“HAVE YOU ASKED HIM?”

You shook your head. “Never came up.”

“What are you two talkin’ about?”

Your eyes snapped to where Red was, walking in from the kitchen entrance. “You didn’t tell me you were colorblind,” you said immediately, and Red narrowed his sockets at Black but didn’t say anything. “I didn’t know monsters could be colorblind.”

Red blinked slowly. “It’s not common. Color Blindness wasn’t a thing in the Underground,” he said, sitting beside you. “To everyone else, I was just dumb.”

You hadn’t thought of it like that, and your heart broke for him. You couldn’t imagine someone ridiculing Red for something he couldn’t control.

You jumped to change the subject. “How was-” you paused. You had no idea where Red had gone. “-your day?”

“It was okay.” Red tugged at his fingers, and you noticed he wore his usual gloves. You forgot yours in the guest room. “How’s unpacking goin’?”

“Haven’t started.”

“You haven’t started ?”

“Relax, I’ll get to it,” you said, leaning back in your chair. You wanted to ask when Red planned on moving the machine into your basement, but you couldn’t with Black there.

“SHOULD YOU BE MOVING ANYTHING AROUND IN YOUR STATE?”

“The boxes weren’t heavy,” you said. “And I’m fine! I don’t feel sick anymore.”

“WELL, IN ANY CASE,” Black said. “IT’S BETTER TO REST UNTIL YOUR SOUL HAS GONE BACK TO NORMAL.”

“How long until that?”

Black glanced at Red. “I CAN’T TELL UNLESS SOMEONE TAKES YOUR SOUL OUT FOR YOU.”

You turned to Red, but Red refused to look at you. “Dude.”

“No, leave me alone.”

“Oh, come one, where’s the willingness to check my soul,” you asked, elbowing him with a teasing smile.

“YOU MIGHT NOT NEED TO,” Black said, crossing his arms. “IF WHAT I SAW YESTERDAY IS ANY INDICATION, MAYBE A WEEK OF REST WILL BE ENOUGH.”

Red elbowed you back with a sly smile. “What he said.”

“ BUT NOT EVERYONE HEALS THE SAME,” Black added, watching Red’s smile drop. “CHECKING HER SOUL NOW WOULD BE MORE ACCURATE AND BENEFICIAL IN THE LONG RUN.”

“Who’s side are you on,” Red frowned.

“YOU SHOULD ASK CASH,” Black said to you, ignoring Red.

At the mention of Cash, Red’s sockets widened. “No, you shouldn’t ,” he said to you. Before Black could taunt him further, he stood up and clicked his tongue. “Whatever. Let’s go. You need to start unpacking.”

But he didn’t wait for you and left the room. You had no time to think of how he made that noise. Did skeletons have tongues? 

Black gave you a sly smile. “AS I SAID: JEALOUS.”

“That was mean,” you whisper harshly.

“I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO BE,” Black said as you stood, his smile dropping. “YOU REALLY SHOULD CHECK YOUR SOUL, THOUGH.”

You don’t reply, leaving the dining room and picking up your pace as you search for Red. He didn’t go far, standing by the doorway to the living room and typing on his phone.

“Are you okay,” you asked, but Red doesn’t look up from his phone.

“He’s just bein’ stupid,'' Red muttered. “Cash’s busy, anyway.”

“I bugged him earlier,” you said, even though it was off-topic. “Black, I mean, about you being colorblind-”

“I don’t care about that,” Red said nonchalantly, stuffing his phone in his pocket. He turned to look at you, his expression relaxed. “It’s not a secret.”

“It’s because-”

“I’m not mad,” he said, his voice louder but not angry.

You didn’t say he was mad, but you nodded and looked away awkwardly. You think back to what Black said but push it to the back of your mind. There was no way Red was jealous. You’d spent more time with him than anyone lately, so there was no reason to be.

“What’s with the rush to get me to unpack,” you asked as Red walked out the front door.

“You should get it out of the way,” he said, but Red didn’t strike you as the type to get things done as soon as possible. Or was he simply impatient?

The walk was quiet, and you were unsure of what to say. Gaster was inside the house when you opened the door, sliding gracefully between some of the boxes Red had left in the foyer.

Red told me about his machine , he started, and you nodded.

“Yeah, me too. Does that bother you?”

Gaster didn’t say anything.

“I’ll be upstairs,” Red said, but he turned to you halfway up. “You said the room on the left facing the street is your office?”

You nodded, and Red left you alone with Gaster.

“I feel like I pissed him off,” you whispered, and Gaster tilted his head.

I wouldn’t worry. Red is hotheaded.

“Not always,” you said as you walked to the kitchen’s doorway.

Gaster hummed, but whenever he did, it echoed in your head. Not with you, at least. But with others.

“Don’t start with that.”

You walked down the basement steps.

There is something about Red’s machine that worries me .

You stop at the bottom of the steps. “Why?”

Red agreed to lie to Sans about you with the promise that Sans would not try to bring me back again.

As the days went on, the connection between you and Gaster strengthened. His voice sounded clearer today.

“Yeah, I remember.”

Every time he uses it, another Sans and Papyrus are removed and placed here. So why would Red rebuild the same machine to bring me back? He could risk being removed from this reality or bringing another version of himself to this one. Gaster paused. And if I return, Sans has reason to attempt to return everyone to their realities.

You swallowed thickly, examining the dark basement. You sat on the last step. “I don’t know, Gaster. It worries me too.” You turn to look at him, his body blending with the darkness. His bone-white face lowered to your level a few feet away. “But I trust him. He knows what he’s doing. I hope.”

That is not a guarantee.

“Don’t you want to come back? Don’t you miss being-” You couldn’t find the word. Alive? Physical? Real?

I do. But Gaster sounded sad. But is my return worth the risk of losing Red?

“We can’t be one hundred percent sure that we’d lose him if you come back,” you said, and for some reason, you feel upset. “It’s just something Red worries about. He's just anxious.”

It’s something to consider .

“I know that. But still-” You drag a hand over your face, the pressure over your chest returning. Did stress make your soul react badly? “I’d rather not worry about that, Gaster. Red never said anything about using the machine.”

Not to you .

You glared at him, but meant no hostility. “We’re not even sure it’ll work. It could be useless for all we know.”

Gaster didn’t say anything. Your glare softened, guilt creeping up your throat.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I know I-”

You don’t have to apologize. You and I. We share the same concerns.

You were quiet for a while. The only sound throughout the house was Red’s footsteps.

“Why do you want to come back?”

It was a stupid question. If you were stuck in a void with no method of communication besides a sleep-deprived engineer, would you want to come back?

But Gaster’s smile is soft. I miss them .

“Who?”

Sans and Papyrus. I miss my boys.

Chapter Text

The water was running. The lights worked. The Wi-Fi was strong. But your home was still huge and depressingly empty.

Even after Red helped you unpack everything, there was plenty of space to make it look like nobody lived there. You needed a living room set, a proper dining table, more bookshelves, a new desk, and more. Not to mention Gaster’s bean bag that he kept reminding you to purchase. But with the pressure on your chest lessening, you felt well enough to return to work on Monday as usual. You planned on going shopping after for all the stuff you were missing.

“Are you sure you’re okay,” Alphys whispered throughout the meeting with the physicists, chemists, and engineers, which included Sans sitting on her other side and on the verge of falling asleep. You’d only nod in response.

“I told you, it’s not a big deal,” you whispered as the meeting ended.

You glanced in Sans’ direction, noticing how he startled awake when a junior physicist tapped him on the shoulder. But his body language made it clear that he wanted nothing more than to leave. If you knew anything about him, you knew Sans was intelligent, and others looked up to him. Even if he didn’t want them to.

“You really should go to a doctor,” Alphys said, somehow convinced you’d gotten a cold or something. Red hadn’t gone over any details besides ‘she’s sick.’ “Just to be sure. Get those days off and rest some more,” she stuttered.

“Three days was enough.” You leaned back in your chair. “Do you want me to go home?”

“No, it’s just,” she chuckled nervously. “This week is going to be very busy. Like, incredibly busy. So, if you’re sick, maybe-”

“I can handle it,” you interrupted. Either Alphys was genuinely worried or didn’t think you were capable. You added sternly, “I promise I’m okay.”

“Alright, but-”

She was going on a business trip, meaning only you and Sans would work in the lab. It wasn’t something she could put off either, no matter how much she tried. But you assured her everything would be okay. Sans would take the brunt of the work, since he held a higher position than you. It wasn’t strange to you that Alphys obviously didn’t want to go, though.

But with every reassurance, your heartbeat picked up. You and Sans alone? How were you going to survive being alone with him? At least you’d brought your gloves, but that was barely comforting.

Alphys left in the afternoon after briefing you on the specifics you missed on Friday and what you’d need to accomplish by the end of the week. Sans looked ready to clock out and knock out amid her anxious ramblings. Most of the work you’d need to do consisted of research and analysis, and questions would have to go to Sans.

After the first three hours, you felt a headache coming on, so you decided to head down to the cafe. But before you could leave the lab, Sans stopped you.

“You headin’ out?”

“No, I’m just going to the cafe’s coffee shop.”

That was a mouthful.

You stuffed your hands into your pockets, feeling for the shape of a key, and ignored the voice. “Did you want anything?”

“Nah,” Sans said as he joined you. “I’ll go down with you.”

You nodded, avoiding any eye contact or conversation the whole walk there. Sans glanced at you once or twice, but you pretended not to notice. It wasn’t until you were waiting in line for the coffee shop that you decided to suck it up and say something to ease the imaginary tension.

“Did Red tell you I moved to Elk Grove?”

Why would he care about that?

“Uh, no,” Sans said, tilting his head. “Why would he?”

You pretended to be shocked. “Well, you guys are cousins, right?”

“Yeah,” Sans said.

You shrugged. “I thought he would’ve mentioned it to you.”

It was getting colder. What are you doing?

You changed the subject.

“I, uh,” you cleared your throat, looking ahead. “I met Toriel.”

It took him a moment to react. “You did?”

You nodded. “A while back. I walked around the neighborhood and saw her,” You shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring Gaster’s stare from afar. “So, I said ‘hi.’”

“She never told me.”

“Don’t hold it against her,” you said, moving up in line. The cashier greeted you with a smile, and you returned it. “I asked her not to.”

He tried to respond, but you made him order before you. You paid for the drinks and found a table. Sans sat down, sockets narrowed a bit.

“Why did you ask her not to tell me?”

“It felt kind of weird at first,” you said. “You’re my co-worker, and I don’t like to mix my personal life with my work life.”

“That’s-”

“Weird. I know. But I’m over it. I felt guilty making Toriel lie to you,” you said, and you meant it. “She probably feels worse. I know you guys are good friends. And I’m sorry for that.”

You could tell he was still confused. And this lie could fall apart if he asked when you met Toriel. Technically, you hadn’t lied earlier, but the truth was that you’d known her for longer than that and under far different circumstances. But Sans was nothing if not critical.

“Thanks for telling me,” Sans said, his tone even. You saw him relax his posture.

You nodded, looking away. You’d have to update Red and Toriel about this later. They’d probably be upset or annoyed with you for digging a deeper hole, but you’d been somewhat truthful. You did feel guilt about making Toriel lie. She hadn’t expressed it, but you didn’t want her facing any backlash if Sans happened to find out the truth.

Better to get it over with.

The barista called your name, and you grabbed the drinks. You handed Sans his cup and sat down, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Also,” you said. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”

Sans began to fidget with his sweater sleeve. “Is there a reason you picked today to say all this?”

“Not really.” You bit the inside of your cheek, and then forced yourself to stop. “I get the feeling you sort of hate me- maybe not hate , but… You don’t trust me. If that makes sense.”

He paused. “Why would you think that?”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” you said, your voice lowering out of embarrassment. “I mean, you just found out I asked your friend to lie to you. I wouldn’t trust me, either.”

Gaster materialized next to you. You didn’t shiver or react to the cold this time, but you noticed Sans glance away momentarily. He tugged at his sweater sleeve absently, then rubbed at his forearm.

He’s pretending not to notice me.

“We’re coworkers,” Sans said with a shrug. “I don’t hate you. But trusting you is different. We haven’t known each other long.”

You shook your head as if to dismiss the thought. “So you don’t hate me?”

Sans shook his head. “No.” But he said it slowly, hesitantly. You hadn’t answered his question.

“Okay. I just thought, maybe, if Red and I can get along,” you said, and you felt embarrassed to admit this to him, “so can we. If that’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Sans said. “That’s cool.” He seemed to relax further, tilting his head to the side. “I thought we did get along. Did I give you the wrong impression?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I, just, um-” you shrugged awkwardly, unsure what to say to him. 

But even with that, you knew beyond doubt that Sans could see Gaster. And you had no idea what to do with that information other than ignore the feeling of guilt. Gaster had yet to clarify what he meant by ‘ my boys,’ but it gave you a feeling that he’d somehow cared for them. Now that you knew he had some relation to Sans, you felt guilty for hiding everything. Sans deserved to know what was happening. It was torment having to hide everything from him, even though it was for Red’s sake.

You had expressed this to Gaster, but he was adamant. Not yet. Please .

And who were you to deny him?

You and Sans sat in awkward silence for a few minutes after you trailed off, but his phone rang when you tried to say something. He looked apologetic, mumbling something about a ‘troublemaker.’

“I’ll head back to the lab,” you told him.

“I’ll see you there,” he said before answering the call.

You wanted to guess who was on the other end. Was it Red? It could be Black. You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thought. Despite your curiosity, there was no point in guessing.

You threw your cup away before entering the lab, the familiar cold enveloping you like a cocoon. Ever since Gaster had become a part of your life, you’d slowly grown accustomed to the cold, although sometimes your body would shiver involuntarily. You walked over to your desk, examining the dry-erase board covered in blue ink, causing you to bump into your office chair.

Be careful .

You adjusted the chair and sat down in exasperation. “Did you need something?”

Is that a way to greet a friend?

You shook your head, brows furrowed. “You should hang out with Red when I’m at work. Isn’t it boring for you here?”

I’d never be bored of being in a lab. Gaster hummed, and the sound echoed as if you were in a cave. Mine was better .

When you didn’t say anything, he stood straighter. Is there a reason you told Sans about Toriel?

“He was going to find out eventually.”

But what about-

You mumbled something, and Gaster asked you to speak up.

“It sucks,” you said and swiveled on your chair to face him. You didn’t mean to sound angry, but the look on your face was enough to make Gaster flinch backward. “I know you think it’s probably easy for me because Red and I are friends, and you both want me to lie to Sans, but do you think I like being this secretive?”

He stayed quiet.

“I feel guilty, Gaster.” You lowered your voice in case Sans walked in. “But I know you have a good reason. And I get why Red needs me to lie. I just wish it were…”

Easier .

You nodded.

I’m sorry .

“I’m not mad at you,” you added quickly, and Gaster hummed.

You have every right to feel the way you do . He moved closer.

You were about to say something, but the sound of the door made you stop. Sans walked in, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He looked upset, his brow bones drawn downward.

“Hey,” you called out, and he turned to look at you.

“Hey.”

“Is everything okay?”

To your surprise, he walked over to your area. “What happened to ‘keep work and personal lives separate’?”

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment. “You looked upset,” you said, turning away to face your computer. “Just trying to be nice.”

Sans didn’t respond at first, standing awkwardly behind you. “So,” he drawled. “What do you and Red get up to?”

Gaster laughed. He’s changing the subject .

“We talk,” you said. “Hang out. Not much, but he’s fun to be around.”

Red came over unannounced yesterday and tripped on his way up the stairs. You’d been milling around the newly named “lounge area” and saw him. It took ten minutes to get you to stop laughing.

“I figured,” Sans said. “He’s been coming home late.”

Your eyes went wide. “Oh, that’s my bad-”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Sans shrugged. “If it gets him out of the house.”

You nodded and tried not to think about how Sans probably didn’t mind because Red was his informant. Or maybe he was glad his cousin had a friend? You didn’t want to paint Sans to be the villain.

“Is there a reason you’re asking me?” You glanced at him. “I figured he would’ve told you what we got up to.”

“Because we’re cousins, right?” he asked a bit too quickly.

You nodded.

Sans sighed. “Listen, I-”

The sound of the door opening made you both turn, half-expecting Alphys to walk back in. You were surprised to see Red, and you instinctively smiled and waved at him in greeting. He nodded in greeting, the other skeleton beside him glancing at you briefly.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Sans said to Red, then focused on the taller skeleton. “Did you tell him?”

“Don’t look at me,” said the stranger. He elbowed Red and glanced down at him. “He heard ‘lab’ and came on his own.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Red said as he joined your side.

“Oh, that’s why he wanted to join me.” He leaned down to Sans, his voice a loud whisper. “Does he have a crush on Alphys’ assistant?”

“Cool it, Stretch,” Red said without looking back. He pulled up a chair nearby and sat next to you. “You two go do whatever you’re gonna do.”

You turned to face them. “Stretch?” You wondered who named him if Red had named Black.

Stretch tilted his head. “Yes?”

“He’s our younger cousin,” Sans clarified, even though you already knew. Sans nodded to his part of the lab, focusing on Stretch. “Come on. I finished the analysis earlier.”

Stretch nodded but turned to Red with a mischievous smile. “You two behave now.”

“Choke,” Red said under his breath, turning away in embarrassment. His cheeks were flooding with red magic again.

Stretch laughed as he walked away. 

You turned to face your computer, but when you noticed Red’s face was still red, you reached out a hand. His pupils dilated as he leaned back slightly, and you pulled your hand away.

“My bad,” you said, looking away. “Black’s blush went away when he rubbed his cheek. I thought-”

“You were trying to rub my face,” Red said, smiling like he was about to laugh.

You nodded even though your face burned. When you heard the sound of bone against bone, you turned your head to look at him. He’d taken off one of his gloves to rub the magic away, and slowly, the redness on his face faded away.

“Do you have to take it off?”

“It works better.” He put the glove back on.

You turned to face your computer and continued scrolling through emails before switching to the articles you were supposed to read. “So,” you said. “Why do you blush so much?”

Red furrowed his brows. “Not my fault. I can’t control it.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

“Why are you smiling?”

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Why did you come? To distract me again?” You were referring to his impromptu visit.

“I have a good reason today,” Red said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s about the machine.”

Your eyebrows shot up, but you didn’t turn away from your computer. “Shouldn’t we talk about this later?”

“We’re gonna talk about it right now on our way to the copy room with the giant printer,” he said, nodding at your screen. Did he not see the printer beside your computer? “You need to print that article so you can take it home later.”

You finally turned to face him. “My printer works-”

But he glared at you.

Your eyes widened in realization. “Right,” you said slowly, rising from your seat. You quickly sent the file for printing. “Let’s go.”

Red followed you out of the lab.

“You’re such an idiot,” you whispered. “You could’ve just asked to talk outside. Or text me. Or write it on a sticky note-”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You glared at him. “I have actual work to do-”

“Which I will make up to you.”

You sighed. “Alright. What’s going on, then?”

Red didn’t say anything until you reached the copy room. “I’m gonna move the machine to your basement tomorrow. That okay?”

“Yeah. I’d say just do it while Sans is here.” You stuffed your hand into your pocket and pulled something out as you typed something into the giant machine. “Do you need a key?”

Red snorted, leaning against a wall. “You know I don’t.”

“Too bad,” you said, holding out a key to him. “I already made you a copy.”

Red’s smile dropped as he stared at the key in your hand. “You made me a copy? When did you do that? And for what?”

“Emergencies.” You waited until he took the key. “I know it’s stupid. You could just teleport-”

“Shortcut.”

“-in and out whenever you feel like it. You have no use for it, I know. But it’s just in case, you know-”

“I get it,” Red said as he pulled out his keychain to add the key. “Thanks.”

You stood by the machine as it printed out your article. “Why is Stretch here?”

Red shrugged. “He only ever shows up when Sans is theorizing about realities again.”

“Are you worried he might use the machine again?”

“Not if he promised not to.” Red moved closer as you picked up the article, the paper warm in your gloved hands. “Why?”

You shook your head. “He knows that I moved to Elk Grove. And that I know Toriel.”

“ What ?”

You explained your earlier conversation with as much detail as you could remember on your way to the lab, and Red listened like his life was on the line. The more you spoke, the worse you felt. When you finished, Red looked worried.

“You sound like you’re trying to trick him,” Red said quietly.

“A little,” you admitted. When Red gave you a deadpan stare, you relented. “Okay, I am! Is it working? Does he feel bad about making you spy on me?”

“Why are you so worried about making Sans like you or not? If he finds out, I’m the one taking the fall. You’re just the middle man.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Red stopped suddenly, saving you from having to answer. He spun on his heel and looked up and down the hallway.

“What’s wrong?”

“Gaster,” he said, and he kept searching. “He said something, but I can’t see where he is.” Red rubbed at his arms and turned to you. “You didn’t hear him?”

You shook your head, unable to see him, either. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Red shook his head as if to dismiss the thought. “Whatever. Listen,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders to make sure you were paying attention. “Don’t worry about Sans. For your own sake.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed his hands off, continuing towards the lab. “You and I have very different concerns, Red.”

When you returned to the lab, you noticed Stretch watching you and Red. He whispered something to Sans, but Sans shook his head. Red decided to stay in the lab, but only to pass you different colored markers as you took notes on the dry-erase board.

Gaster didn’t grace you with his presence until you were on the verge of falling asleep.

Chapter Text

Red sat on the basement steps and stared at the machine. Moving it had been no hassle, but Gaster hadn’t stopped glaring at him since he entered the basement. Red thought nothing of it, thinking instead of the key you’d given him, tucked away in his pocket.

What’s on your mind?

Red was startled at the sudden question. Gaster loomed nearby, circling the machine like a shark. “Nothin’.”

Gaster stopped with his back to Red. You shouldn’t have brought this here .

“I had no choice,” Red shrugged. “Trust me, if I did, I’d have this thing somewhere else.”

How about the bottom of a river?

Red snorted. “Good one. So, tell me,” he said, approaching Gaster and standing beside him. He pocketed his keychain. “Why’s it bothering you so much?”

Gaster shook his head. I’d rather stay in this void for eons than risk any harm to you or her or anyone.

“Who said this thing would cause any harm?” Red kicked the machine weakly. “It probably doesn’t even work.”

He will send you back if I return.

“Sans is never going to bring you back. He also isn’t going to send us back. He can’t. He doesn’t know how .” Red turned to face him, expecting to be interrupted. Gaster remained silent. For some reason, his silence made him angry. “But he’s impatient. Even though Sans doesn’t have my journal or yours, it’s not enough to hold him back. He keeps trying. And every time he tries, he fails.” Red walked over to the basement steps where his backpack sat and took out his laptop. “And he’ll keep failin’. Over and over again.”

You two are so alike .

“We’re both impatient,” Red agreed, even though Gaster sounded annoyed more than anything.

And you want to be the one to do it .

Red didn’t need to clarify anything to Gaster. Of course, it was Red who knew how to bring him back. Neither Stretch, Cash, nor Rus had the same experience as he did in Gaster’s lab. None of them knew anything about their Gaster. If Sans didn't bring Gaster back- which Red was sure Sans would never accomplish- then it had to be him.

“I’m the only one who can,” Red reminded him anyway.

What about her?

“What about her?”

Give her two weeks with that journal, and she’ll have a replica of this machine in one week.

“She’s crazy and smart, but she doesn’t-”

You, of all people, should know not to underestimate her. Sans certainly doesn’t. Regardless, would you risk causing her harm? The machine could blow up. It could burn her house down. If Sans finds-

“Leave her out of this.”

It’s impossible to do that. We are in her basement, Sans .

Red glared at him. It’d been a while since someone used his real name. Even Edge had gotten used to calling him Red.

“ Sans won’t bring you back.”

And if he -

“If he what? Figures it all out?” Red laughed, but there was no humor to it. “I said he can’t. You know he can’t. And if he does, it’s not anythin’ I don’t know.”

Gaster hummed, and Red closed his eyes. He didn’t like the way it echoed more than his laughter. I find it ironic.

“What?”

Nevermind . Gaster shook his head. I can’t deny that I miss Sans and Papyrus, even if my memory is foggy. I would like to return. But-

“Is it worth the risk?” Red watched as Gaster sunk further into the ground, the ink pooling around him until he was eye-level instead of towering over him. “I think it is.”

If you get pulled away-

“I know how to get back.”

Theoretically. If I do return. Sans will know it's possible to return you and the others. He might not know how to as of now, but eventually he will. What’s to stop him when he does?

“Sans ain’t heartless. You think he hates us enough to send us away just like that?”

Gaster’s voice grew louder. Then why keep your endeavors to yourself? Why not tell him?

“Same reason you beg her not to tell Sans about you.”

Gaster looked taken aback. I have my reasons.

“So do I.”

He turned on the main panel, opened a hatch, and connected six wires to their respective receiver. It buzzed to life, a whirring noise coming from within. Beside the main panel were two metal prongs buzzing with electricity.

What are you doing?

“Proving this thing doesn’t work. Stuff like this only works in sci-fi movies with evil geniuses. You usually need something way bigger and with more safety. And when it does work-” Red turned and pointed at him- “Which it will, eventually- this will all just be something we laugh about. And she won’t have to worry about the guilt eating her alive.”

How do you know that she feels guilty ?

“It’s stupid to think she doesn’t.”

Red flipped three switches, walked away, and reached into his backpack near the staircase to pull out his laptop. The room was growing brighter by the second, the nightlight becoming obsolete. He connected it to the machine and brought up some old code he’d been perfecting.

“You told me so yourself. Yesterday, in the hallway.”

No, I did not.

“Yes, you did,” Red said, and his patience was beyond worn. “I heard you, loud and clear. ‘The guilt is eating her alive.’ That’s what you told me.”

Gaster’s functioning socket widened. I stayed in the lab with Sans and the orange Papyrus while you spoke with her. By the time you returned, I was here resting in my room .

The machine whirred louder.

“But I heard you-”

Red. That was not me .

Red didn’t have time to react.

Sparks flew from the two metal prongs. Red took several steps back to avoid them, but they clung to his clothes and moved like bugs until they rested near his sternum. He tried to wipe them off, but they burned to the touch. Red and Gaster watched in horror as his soul was forced out of him, the small white heart snapping into place between the metal prongs as if it belonged there.

Red felt weak, empty. He moved closer, hoping to shut it off, and opened the panel. He tried to yank the wires free from their receivers, but it was as if someone had welded them together into a mass of plastic and copper. The machine grew brighter, his soul casting a pure white glow throughout the room.

He could hear Gaster’s voice reverberating painfully against his skull, telling him to step away, but Red didn’t move. A million thoughts raced around his head, wondering that if he were to dust right then and there, what would happen to Edge? Would Sans take pity and let him stay? Would he find an excuse to get rid of him?

Would it all have been for nothing?

Then, as if a miracle had occurred, the light faded. Red’s soul floated weakly towards him, and he reached out to hold it. He checked it, noticing the way his bones trembled against each other. They seemed too loud in the now quiet room.

Red returned his soul to where it belonged, taking several shaky breaths. He sat there on his heels, resting his sweating forehead against the warm metal of the machine.

“That’s my bad,” he said shakily. He hoped Gaster was still there. “I didn’t think it’d be that…”

“I thought it was perfect.”

Red’s vision was blurry, but he could make out Gaster’s silhouette. He stood shakily and almost fell over, but held onto the machine.

“Don’t faint on me now,” Red heard Gaster say, but he could barely focus.

“It worked,” Red said breathlessly, gripping the fabric over his chest.

He swallowed thickly as his vision cleared, eyes sweeping over Gaster. Tall and slim, with a long black coat that hung below his knees. But his eyes- his eyes blazed red.

Red’s eyes snapped to Gaster’s bone-white face, marred with scars he recalled from his youth- scars he’d accidentally given Gaster many years ago. His Gaster.

Gaster regarded him with an almost smug look that annoyed the shit out of Red. Red glanced at Gaster- the goopy one with the still melted features, with the inky mass of blackness for a body.

His Gaster spoke, and Red’s attention refocused.

“How have you been, Sans?”

Chapter Text

Cash called you a few minutes before your lunch break. 

You’d hastily peeled your lab coat off, pretending it was an emergency as Sans stopped explaining something he’d written on your whiteboard.

You answered the call, pressing the phone to your ear and heading toward the nearest bathroom. “What’s up?”

“I’m doing great, how about you?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m at work. I was talking with Sans.”

“About what?”

“Work.”

Cash groaned. “That’s all you ever do. Are you going to the factory tonight? It’s been a while.”

You sighed, your mind occupied with deadlines and computer programs and notes. “You know we can’t. Red said it was risky, and…” you trailed off. There was no reason to go. Your initial desire to rebuild the small CORE prototype slowly dwindled as you got involved with Gaster and those skeletons. But Cash didn’t know about that.

He wanted to go for a different reason.

“You know what? Fuck it,” you said, and Cash asked what you meant. “Let’s ghost hunt this time. With the equipment and everything.”

“Seriously,” Cash asked with excitement. “You have it ready?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just be there, and don’t get caught.”

You hung up before he could say anything and returned to the lab. Sans gave you a strange look, but you ignored it and nodded for him to continue. You struggled to focus, but you did your best.

By the time you were done for the day, you were itching to grab your phone to make a call.

-

Your contact with the cheap ghost equipment was unavailable to sell you anything.

“Something about a warrant out for his arrest,” you said to Cash with a shrug. “Or cardiac arrest.”

Cash watched as you poured everything in the plastic bag onto the floor- a bunch of candles, scented oils, salt, and an ouija board.

“What’s that,” he asked, pointing at the board.

“To contact spirits,” you said with a smile. “But I don’t think we’ll use it. It might be dangerous. I don’t want you risking-”

“That piece of wood is dangerous?”

You furrowed your brows, your stare hard. “The ghosts can pick it up and hit you with it.”

Cash looked taken aback, but he rolled his eye when he saw your facade crack. “You’re lying to me.”

“No shit.” You took the board and planchette and set them aside. “For decoration. We can stick to candles, thoughts, and prayers. Maybe salt.”

“And those tiny vials?” Cash bent down to pick one up. “You broke one, moron.” You turned to look at the broken vial in between his fingers, the scented oil slipping down his bony hands.

“Smell it.”

He sniffed once then turned sharply towards you. “What is it?”

“What does it smell like?”

“Trees.” He stretched his hand out to you, and the smell of cedar hit you hard.

“Jeez, those are strong,” you said, covering your nose. “It’s cedar. They say certain scents help to attract ghosts. Or protect you from them.”

“Trees will protect us from ghosts,” he asked skeptically, tossing the vial into the bag. He looked through each of the vials, listing off the scents and opening each one. “Lemon. Lavender. Gardenia. Frankincense?” 

You heard a pause and then a sharp hiss, followed by a cough.

“Fuck that’s strong,” he said, echoing your earlier observation. “Okay, so what do we do?”

You instructed Cash to sit down, and you arranged the candles in a circle in front of him. Cash took out a box of matches from his pocket and started lighting them one by one without waiting for you.

“Ever heard of a lighter,” you asked, but he ignored your quip.

You sat in front of him, the ring of candles casting a warm glow over you and Cash. It was at least two feet wide, but you could feel their warmth, though it wasn’t enough to remove your jacket and feel comfortable. After a bout of silence, Cash reached over for the vials of oil and started reading the labels again.

When he finished, he held up the frankincense. “What’s this one for?”

“Protection against spirits. To cleanse.” You groaned. “I have a ton of incense at home, I forgot.”

“You have what?”

“Sticks that you light at one end and it- you didn’t have those underground?”

Cash shook his head. “We had candles.” He held up another vial. “Lilac?”

“That one should help with clairvoyance or something like that.”

He hummed. “Can objects be haunted,” he asked, passing the vial to you.

You nodded. “Yeah. Oh! Maybe we can find the creepiest doll and see if there’s a spirit inside.”

Cash didn’t wait for another word before he sprang up, forcing you to get up in a hurry and nearly knocking over a candle. Once you were sure none of the flames had gone out, you raced after him. 

“I swear I saw one that made my bones rattle when I saw it,” he said once you were within reach. He seemed to take his steps more carefully this time as if the memory of the fall from all those weeks ago was bound to happen again.

Cash guided you to a room on the third floor where the walls were lined with unfinished dolls on racks. You walked further in, your eyes glued to one side before you turned around.

When you did, you found yourself face-to-face with a life-sized doll. You let out a high-pitched scream and took several steps back, bumping into Cash. You felt his bony hands settle on your shoulders, causing you to flinch slightly at his touch and shriek again.

The scare had left your heart beating erratically, the unwanted feeling of pressure returning slightly. As you regained your breath, Cash started to laugh, the type of laughter that would’ve made your stomach hurt. He didn’t let go of your shoulders, and instead, he seemed to use you as a way to balance himself.

“I didn’t,” he said between laughter, “I didn’t think- oh, shit, I did not expect you to scream that loud.”

Your face grew warm and your brows furrowed, but you averted your eyes so you wouldn’t have to stare into the glassy lifeless ones of the doll. You turned to face him, but Cash still hadn’t stopped laughing as he let go to cover his face, his shoulders shaking.

“Okay, it was funny, now stop laughing.”

He did not.

“You knew I’d scream,” you asked, though it was more of a statement.

Cash removed his hands from his face and nodded, wiping away an imaginary tear. “It was worth it,” he sighed. “I didn’t see your face, though. Maybe next time.”

You rolled your eyes, entering the room fully. “Is that the one you said scared you,” you asked, placing a hand over your heart as if you could stop the rapid pace. “I can see why.”

When you took a closer look at the doll, you noticed the details you’d been too afraid to observe earlier. The glass orbs were painted delicately with eyes that look unsettlingly realistic, but much too large and protected by delicate white lashes. The blond wig was pale and almost the same color as Cash’s bones, covered in cobwebs but curled beautifully with two pastel pink bows on either side of her head. The dress was below the knee and puffed up with various layers of lace and tulle, but it was timeworn and eaten through by moths, and you could tell that once, the dress had been beautiful.

“No, that’s just Betsy,” he said, waving dismissively.

You gave him an incredulous look. “You named her?”

“She has a label,” he said, pointing at the square piece of paper tied to the doll’s ankle. “She was commissioned for the mayor's daughter, but- ew, there’s a grasshopper on her.”

“How do you know that,” you asked, watching Cash pick the grasshopper from Betsy’s frilled sleeves and place it in the hallway.

“The guy who designed her kept his notes downstairs in one of the offices.” He took your shoulders once again, then placed his index finger on your jaw to gently guide your gaze to one of the corners of the room. You couldn’t help but feel comforted by his touch, but for some reason, you felt your heartbeat pick up again.

Once you noticed what Cash was trying to get you to look at, you cringed. “Holy shit, that thing is horrendous.”

“I know,” Cash chuckled with a tinge of nervousness. “Go get it.”

“Fuck no, you go.”

The doll in question was about two feet tall and sat ominously on a wooden table facing them, its arms outstretched as if waiting to be held. Its face was painted white, and the lashes were painted on in a droopy way that made it look permanently sad. The eyes were the kind that blinked if you held it a certain way, and when you looked closely, the teeth behind those red-painted lips that were stretched into an unsettling smile looked a little too real.

Despite the attention to detail with the face, the dress was plain pale blue with white polka dots, frayed at the hem, and stained with something brass colored. She was covered in dust and cobwebs, her brown hair auburn and matted.

“There’s just something about her,” Cash whispered, then shook his head. “I refuse.”

“You’re the one who picked it.”

“ You suggested finding a doll.”

“I’d rather take Betsy.”

“Fine!”

Cash relented, letting go of your shoulders and stepping towards the doll. He grabbed onto one of its arms with his hand and held it in the air for a few seconds as if to test the fragility of its cracked porcelain limbs.

He held it at arm's length the whole walk downstairs, but you remained behind him so that he wouldn’t try to scare you with it.

When you made it out of the hallway, the first thing you noticed was the lack of light.

“Did the candles go out,” you asked.

“No shit,” he said, stepping towards the circle and setting the doll in the middle.

You returned to your spot opposite to him, but once you were settling your eyes widened in shock.

“Did you put that there,” you asked Cash, pointing to the Ouija board that the doll now sat on top of.

“No, I thought you did.”

“You saw me sit down, when would I have had the time to put it there?”

“Let’s just-”

“And how did the candles go out,” you interrupted. “There’s no wind!”

“It had to be a ghost.” Cash found the vial of Frankincense and placed a few drops around the Ouija board, not caring if some of the oil fell on the doll. He scooted closer to you.

When he began to screw on the cap, a sudden icy feeling enveloped you just as the candles were suddenly reignited, the flames flickering wildly despite the lack of wind.

Cash stared at the candles with his jaw slack. “You didn’t do that, right?”

“Yes, Cash, I relit all the candles with a snap of my finger,” you said in a whisper, then raised your voice to say, “Obviously not!”

“Don’t yell at me!”

The flames grew larger, brighter, causing their shadows to dance wildly against the machines in the factory, over the unfinished porcelain baby heads stacked on trays. You and Cash stared quietly, the only sound was that of Cash’s bones starting to rattle.

Cash coughed into his fist. “So, we’re dealing with an actual ghost.”

Your eyes did not leave the back of the doll’s head as you answered. “I don’t know.”

After another bout of silence, you saw Cash tense and scoot an inch closer to you. “Please tell me you saw that,” he said, stretching out a hand to grab your jacket sleeve.

“What-”

“It blinked!”

You looked at him with furrowed brows and his hand shot out to point at the doll. “I can see her eyes moving from my side,” he said. He held your jacket tighter and then tugged you lightly so you would scoot over. “Look, just wait.”

So you stared at the profile of the doll as the flames flickered, your senses on high alert. Cash was fully expecting a human ghost, but something in the back of your mind made you question if Gaster was a prankster.

You sighed. “Cash, I don’t think-”

But the sound of cracking cuts you off.

Slowly, the doll’s head began to turn. You both watched in horror, the sound of the aged, delicate porcelain making the hairs on your arms stand, until the doll’s face was staring straight at you and Cash.

You suddenly craved the comforting presence of Gaster.

“What do we do now,” Cash whispered as his hand clutched at your arm.

“I’m not sure.” You wanted to reach over to grab more vials of scented oil, but you were scared the doll would say something. “Talk to it.”

Cash turned sharply to face you, his grip on your arm tightening. “Me? What the fuck am I supposed to say to it?”

“You picked her for a reason. I said let’s use Betsy, but no- ”

The sound of more creaking made you stop, but this time, the doll was starting to stand and bend at the waist, as if an invisible hand was helping it to its feet. Cash was hugging you at this point, watching with his jaw slack.

You decided to take the leap and talk to the doll.

“Hello? Is there a spirit present with us?”

You were embarrassed to admit you felt your body shaking against Cash’s.

You heard Cash’s jaw click shut as he said through clenched teeth, “Do you think there isn’t a fucking spirit here?” He turned to look at the doll with furrowed brow bones. “Show yourself, you fucking jerk.”

The doll stopped moving and you could immediately feel Cash’s regret as he tensed.

The sound of something wooden smacked against the floor, and you recognized the planchette lying a few feet closer to you than where you’d left it.

“Hey,” Cash whispered, his eye trained on the doll. “I forgot to tell you, but Sans thinks I’m sleeping over at Toriels, so-” The planchette skittered across the floor right in front of you, causing Cash to fight against himself to contain a screech. “What is that stupid thing?”

You stuttered over your words. “It’s the piece of the board the ghost moves around to communicate.”

“It keeps getting closer.”

You give him a deadpan stare. “Yes, I can see that.”

He faces you fully. “Make it stop .”

“I would if I could, but I- oh, what the fuck?”

When you turned to face the doll, it was suddenly gone. You tried to pry yourself away from Cash’s grip to search for the missing doll, but he was a lot stronger than he let on. And once he noticed the missing doll, his grip only got tighter.

“How fast can you run,” he whispered.

“Be serious.”

“You’re not being serious at all,” he whispered harshly. “That doll is gone .”

“Okay, maybe that’s a good thing,” you said, struggling against him to reach for the planchette. “Can you loosen up a bit? Maybe if we try-”

“Try what ?” His grip loosened, and you managed to grab the planchette and place it on the board. “Leaving? Going home and never coming back?”

You found yourself trying to hide a chuckle, lest Cash think you were insane. “Okay, okay. Let me clean this up before that doll tries to kill us.”

You and Cash were starting to stand up, but the sound of wood against wood caught your attention. You both watched in horror as the planchette moved around the board, seemingly at random before Cash noticed it was spelling out the same word over and over again. You decided not to ask what the word was, busying yourself with cleaning up the vials of oil and blowing out the candles. When you were done, you decided to leave the Ouija board and planchette in a hidden space nearby. You did not want ghosts in your new home.

Cash waited nearby, but you paused to scan the factory once more. You felt Cash’s hand land on your shoulder, and with his other hand, he pointed at something in the distance.

“Look,” he whispered, the fear in his voice evident.

You struggled against the darkness to see what he was referring to, but then you noticed a figure standing in the hall entrance, less than fifteen feet away. You squinted, trying to make out just exactly what it was.

“Let’s go,” Cash said, pulling gently at your shoulder.

“What is it,” you asked.

“Are you blind,” he asked, pulling out the box of matches.

He lit one and tossed it close to the silent figure. You were unsure if the tiny flame would offer any help, but it seemed to be enough to illuminate the porcelain of a familiar face.

Your blood turned to ice as the flame died down. “Is that-”

“Yes, it’s Betsy,” Cash whispered, taking your shoulders in his hands. “Now let's go.”

You wasted no time in booking it to your car, looking over your shoulder every once in a while to see if that thing was following you. You drove in silence, the minutes ticking by. Cash didn’t even touch the radio this time.

“You’ve been there without me before,” you asked him, whispering even though there was no need to.

Cash nodded.

“And this is the first time-”

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” he interrupted, then turned to face you. He looked worried. “How are you not scared right now? Those dolls were moving on their own.”

“I-”

“Orange souls,” he said with a shake of his skull. “Stupidly brave.”

Truth be told, you were terrified, but to Cash, you appeared calm... You regretted suggesting the idea of using that doll in the first place.

“Let’s put a pause-”

Cash barked out a dry laugh and then crossed his arms. “A pause? I think that’s the last time I’m ever setting foot in that place. This is just like that movie about the serial killer doll.”

“I wonder how she made it down all those stairs,” you said. “She’s not articulated.”

“That's what you’re worried about? How about the fact that the doll we were supposed to talk to disappeared? It didn’t even come back!”

“I didn’t think the factory would be haunted. It’s not like someone died.” You paused. “I don’t think anyone did.”

Cash rubbed a hand over his face. “I hate the surface.”

“Were there no haunted places in the Underground?”

Cash crossed his arms again, shrugging. “I guess, but not like this. ‘Haunted’ just meant it was infested with rude ghosts.”

Silence took over again, and soon enough, you were parked outside of Toriel’s house. You spotted the light on in her library and wondered if she stayed up to wait on Cash. You got out of your car and walked Cash to the porch.

“Thanks for the-”

“WHERE WERE YOU TWO?”

You and Cash let out an embarrassing scream, holding onto each other for dear life. The streetlights weren’t enough this far under the darkness of the porch, so you hadn’t noticed Black sitting on the bench at the end of the porch with his eyes previously closed, the soft glow of a cigarette illuminating him. 

Black started to laugh, though it was quiet so as not to disturb anyone near. “I’M SERIOUS,” he said after you managed to calm your heart, flicking ash off his cigarette. He looked at Cash. “SINCE WHEN ARE YOU ALLOWED TO GO OUT THIS LATE ON YOUR OWN?”

“I’m not,” Cash admitted. “Are you gonna snitch?”

Black shrugged. “YOU CAME BACK IN ONE PIECE. DID YOU DO SOMETHING YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO? BESIDE’S LYING AND SNEAKING OUT?”

“No,” Cash said immediately, which only made him sound more suspicious. He turned to you, looking annoyed at Black’s presence. “You goin’ home?”

You nodded.

Cash opened the door, then took a hesitant look back. “Alone?”

You thought about Red’s promise to move the machine to the basement and wondered if he was still there. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. See ya’.” Cash closed the door behind him. Crap, you forgot to ask what the Ouija board had been spelling out.

You waved bye to Black, but he stopped you before you could make it down the steps. He patted the seat next to him, and you sat down. You never pictured Black as a smoker, but he noticed you staring at the cigarette and rolled the end of it between his fingers. The smell usually bothered you, but for some reason, when it came from Black, you didn’t mind.

“DOES RED KNOW YOU WERE HANGING OUT WITH HIM?”

You purse your lips. “No.”

“I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW UPSET HE’LL BE WHEN HE FINDS OUT.”

You decide to ask, “You plan on telling him?”, instead of, “why would he be?”

“OF COURSE NOT. IT’S NONE OF MY BUSINESS,” Black said. He grinned in amusement. “SO, WHAT WERE YOU AND CASH UP TO?”

“Hunting ghosts,” you said simply.

“HUNTING GHOSTS?” Black tilted his head in confusion. “THAT’S NOT NEARLY AS BAD AS WHAT I USED TO DO.”

“And what’s that?”

Black waved the question away. “IT’S NOT IMPORTANT.”

You furrowed your brows. “Why are you here?”

“I’VE ALREADY SAID BEFORE.”

“It’s super late.”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HANGING OUT WITH CASH IN SECRET?” At your lack of response, he echoed your earlier remark. “IT’S SUPER LATE.”

“Just hanging out.” When Black said nothing, you probed further. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“I DON’T HAVE TO,” he said coolly.

You suddenly felt embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“DON’T BE,” Black said, leaning back and crossing his arms. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “HOW WOULD YOU FEEL BEING STUCK BABYSITTING A VERSION OF YOU THAT NEVER LISTENED?”

You tensed, staring ahead at the house across the street.

Black went on. “A VERSION OF YOU THAT REFUSED TO COOPERATE? REFUSED TO GET ALONG WITH OTHERS?”

“Black,” you started, but he closed his eyes and leaned slightly toward you.

“I IMAGINE THAT’S HOW RED FELT WHEN I SHOWED UP.”

“You imagine a lot of things.” He seemed to be waiting for your response. “I’d feel frustrated all the time.”

Does he know that you know?

“NEWCOMERS,” Black breathed out, shaking his head. “DIFFICULT TO DEAL WITH. THAT’S WHY I’M HERE.”

You let out a sigh. He didn’t know. He was just venting. Why he decided to say these things to you, you didn’t know.

“WHAT’S WRONG,” Black asked you, a smile playing on his face. “YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’VE SEEN A GHOST.”

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the night’s hauntings. “I should head out.”

Black hummed. “YES, I ASSUME RED IS WAITING FOR YOU.”

“What-”

“HE TEXTED ME HOURS AGO. HE MUST BE BUSY DOING SOMETHING THERE IF HE HASN’T CALLED YOU THIS LATE.” Black laughed at your puzzled expression.

“He’s still there,” you asked finally, and Black nodded in response.

It grows silent, and you stand and walk down the steps, fully intending to leave without another word, but Black stops you once again.

“HOW ARE YOU FEELING?”

The sincerity in his voice startled you enough to stop in your tracks. You turned around to find him staring at you, the extinguished cigarette between his sharp teeth.

“Better,” you tell him, despite the scare from earlier, both from him and the dolls.

“GOOD.” He sighed, sinking further in his seat. “THAT’S GOOD.”

Something about this interaction was bothering you, but you couldn’t place why. There were a ton of things you wanted to ask him, and so far, he seemed sort of willing to share anything, but…

You shook your head. “I’ll see you later.”

Black said nothing in response, and you felt his stare glued to your back as you walked to your car and drove off.

What the hell was Red still doing at your house?

Chapter Text

When you entered your home, it was clear Red wasn’t alone. An unknown voice could be heard from the kitchen, paired with Red’s, and you wondered if Red had taken the liberty of inviting strangers over.

As you stepped closer, you felt the buzzing static grow louder, alerting you of Gaster’s proximity. As if on cue, you felt his cold presence to your left as you attempted to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Hello . You held up a finger to your lips. I see. You’ve missed a lot .

“Hey, where’d Goopy go?”

There was a pause. Goopy?

“Beats me,” you heard Red say. “Listen, you have to- hey, are you listening to me? Quit gettin’ distracted!”

“It’s quite hard to,” said the stranger, his voice a melodious baritone that reminded you of Black’s. “This home is quite bare, don’t you think? The lack of furniture is upsetting.”

“I already told you, it ain’t my place.”

“Of course I know,” the stranger seethed. “You think I wouldn’t know that this is her home? I’m just pointing out that-”

“Quit it, focus on the conversation we’re supposed to be having,” Red snapped. “Will you please shut up for once?”

“Alright, alright. Make it quick, though. Aren’t you worried she’ll come back and you’ll have to explain all of this?”

Red groaned. “Like I said before, Sans can’t know-”

“Why do you keep calling him Sans if your name is also Sans? It gets confusing.”

“ Alright! The other me can’t know you’re here,” Red said, his voice tight.

The stranger scoffed, cutting Red off before he could continue. “If this were the Underground, you could’ve just dusted me and pretend this never happened.” He chuckled. “I mean, you’ve tried before. Didn’t work out as well as you’d hoped, huh?”

There was a pause.

“I could send you back to the void.”

The stranger hummed. “I’d love to see you try.”

You turned to Gaster, mouthing out, “Who is he?”

You won’t like the answer.

You furrowed his brows. “Tell me,” you whispered.

I tried to get him to stop, and I know he didn’t mean to, but it happened so suddenly- when he noticed the annoyed look on your face, Gaster stopped. It’s his Gaster. He pulled him through with the machine.

And you thought the day of horrors would end after seeing Betsy. Suddenly, the pressure on your chest seemed to lay heavy.

“You can’t be serious,” you said aloud, and you heard the voices in the kitchen stop.

You heard Red call out your name hesitantly. “Are you home?”

You didn’t answer at first, but when he called your name again and poked his head into the hallway, you both froze. His eyes shrunk at the sight of you, and all you could do was stare back in shock.

“Gaster said-” you began, but instead you walked into the kitchen, and you realized that, with blind hope, some part of you wished Gaster had been lying to you.

Gaster- the other one, related to Red- didn’t look surprised at your entrance, seated peacefully at the kitchen island on a barstool. Red followed closely behind you, excuses pouring out his mouth, but you were distracted. You stared at the newcomer, your mouth slightly parted as you counted all the differences between him and the personal ghost who was bound to you.

For one, he didn’t look quite like a skeleton except for the bone-white face, just like the other Gaster- your Gaster. He had jagged cracks along his skull, running below one eye and over his mouth and up the other. His eyes were similar to Red’s, though the right one was hazier than the other, and when he smiled at you, you noticed two sharp canines.

You also realized he had been sitting, because when he stood you swore he was tall enough to touch the ceiling without having to tiptoe. He bowed slightly, extending a hand toward you.

“W.D. Gaster,” he said, and despite Red’s warning to get away from him, you extended a hand as well. He held it in his hand for a moment then lowered his head to press a light kiss to the back of your hand. “A pleasure to meet the lovely human girl who’s become so entangled in my brother’s life.”

You turned your head sharply toward Red. “ Brother ?”

Red shook his head, taking you by the elbow and pulling you away from him. “Don’t listen to him, he’s crazy.”

“I thought he was your dad,” you whispered.

“Why would you think that?”

“Technically-” Gaster began, but Red cut him off.

“Not now.”

“You’re right, not now,” you agreed, wrenching yourself away from Red’s grip. “Because we need to talk about this. Right now, Red.”

Red’s sockets widened slightly, but he scowled and left the kitchen, throwing a final warning behind him meant for his Gaster. “Stay put and don’t try anything.”

I’ll keep an eye on him .

With Red and you locked in the bathroom, you were starting to feel the full weight of the situation, specifically in your chest, right above your soul.

“What did you do,” you whispered to him harshly.

“I fucked up,” is all he said, and when you continued to stare, he held his hands up in surrender. You noticed the lack of gloves. “Gaster was worried about the machine.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“So, I tried to calm him down a bit-“

“By trying it out and accidentally pulling through another version of him from your reality,” you asked, and it wasn’t until you’d said those words that you realized how loud your voice had gotten. You sighed through your nose.

He crossed his arms and shrugged. “That’s actually spot on.”

“I’m sorry, but if Sans finds out about this, what do you think he’ll do?”

Red’s sockets narrowed, unphased by your change in volume. “That’s why he can’t know. And even if he did, what do you think he’ll do?”

“I don’t know! Send you back, threaten you-“

Red made a sound like he was sucking his teeth. “That’s not for you to worry about.”

“Except I am worried. Do you think I want to risk losing friends? You and Cash and Black-“

His shoulders tensed. “Since when has Black been a friend to you?”

“Maybe he’s not, but that’s not the point.” You ran a hand through your hair in frustration. “You tell me not to worry, but I don’t understand how you’re not. Red, if you go back-“

“I won’t go back,” he snapped.

“But it’s always a possibility,” you snapped back. “Have you talked to Sans about any of this? About you and the others staying? Sure, he could be happy and agree and you’ll get to live here forever, but what if he doesn’t like that?”

“Then I’ll figure out a way to stay.”

“Red-“

“Please, just trust me on this,” he said, and he reached out his hands to place them on your shoulders. “I know I fucked up. It’s the worst fuck up I’ve ever done.”

You didn’t realize how badly your eyes were starting to sting. You shook your head, hiding your watery eyes by staring down at the floor. “And now? Do we hide him here? How are we supposed to hide a whole monster from Sans?”

“It’s not like you invited him over for dinner.”

“No, I didn’t. What if anyone else comes over?”

“Like who?”

“Toriel. Cash, or Black-“

“Absolutely none of them have any reason to be here.”

You looked up and glared at him. “I would’ve loved to have them over some time before you decided to summon a monster out of thin air in my home, where you don’t live.”

“And what makes you think Cash is allowed to come over?”

“You are missing the point!”

He mumbled something, but you couldn’t quite hear him. Instead, he removed his hands and unlocked the door.

“He’s staying here?”

Red laughed, and you heard the lock click again as he turned to you. “You think I trust him alone with you? Fuck no, I’m gonna try to send him back to the void. Until then, I’ll figure out-“

“Send him back ?”

Your sudden change in volume then did shock him this time, and he gripped the door handle hard enough for you to hear a tiny crack.

“Yes,” he said hesitantly.

“No.”

It was Red’s turn to raise his voice. “No? I wasn’t aware it was your choice to make.”

“Why would you send him back? Don’t you think he feels the same as my Gaster-“

He raised a brow bone. “You’re Gaster?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, your face heating up in embarrassment.

“He’s not staying.”

“Well, he’s not going either.”

“He’s a piece of shit.”

“In the name of science, he has to stay,” you said, and Red only looked at you in confusion. “You managed to bring someone back from a weird place that’s neither here nor there. He could be the key to bringing back Gaster-“

“You’re ridiculous,” Red said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He started to laugh, shaking his head as he said, “Name of science. You’re such a nerd.”

You stood in silence for a few seconds.

“He’s staying,” you said sternly, reaching for the door handle. 

Red grabbed your wrist. “Then I am, too.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Do whatever you like.”

You opened the door, not surprised to see both Gasters on the other side, slightly crouched and listening intently to the argument between you and Red.

“Move,” you said, and they both parted to let you pass.

“Geez, do you ever mind your business,” Red asked, presumably to his Gaster.

You went back to the kitchen and sat down at the small dining table, suited perfectly for the four of you. The three skeletons lingered at the entrance.

“Can you guys please sit down?”

Red’s Gaster was the first to comply, sitting in the seat to your left. Red glared at him as he took the seat across from you.

First order of business . I refuse to share a room.

“I don’t care. You guys can figure this out later,” you said, crossing your arms. You directed your attention to Red’s Gaster. “This is going to be difficult for a little while, but I need you to stay inside until we can figure out what to do. If you need anything, I can stop by the store-”

“Yes, Red has already told me of your predicament with Sans ,” he said with a roll of his eyes, then counted up to three on his fingers. “Three times. How long do you think it will take him to send me back, as he wishes to?”

You glared at Red momentarily. “Listen, I don’t know what went on between you two, but as long as you and that machine are in my home, I’m going to ask politely that you follow whatever stupid rules I give you.” They both sighed the same, it was almost unnerving to watch. “Good? Good. This means you’re not allowed to go out unless the house is burning down. And you,” you said, turning to Red, “will not say a word of this to anyone.”

“Fine-”

“And you won’t try messing with that machine.”

Red sat up straighter, his sockets wide. “He has to go back.”

“If you touch that machine, you risk hurting yourself.”

“She’s right.”

“Shut up, Wing,” Red snapped. “Kissing up to her ain’t doin’ anything to win her over. Just shut up.”

Wing? Sans used to call me that .

“This isn’t about you,” Wing said with a glare.

You stood up abruptly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You two are sleeping in the living room.”

Wing chuckled. “I don’t mean to offend you, but your home is more barren than the Underground. Where are we going to-”

“Red knows where all my stuff is.” You walked out, waving a hand behind you. “Figure it out.”

You left them alone, the only comfort being Gaster’s freezing presence following you up the stairs and into your room. You want to collapse in your bed, but after spending the night in a haunted factory, you decided to change.

Gaster waited outside until you did, and you knocked twice to let him know you were done.

Your room was dark as Gaster sat at the foot of your bed, his body pooled around him. You fought hard against the tears, but they came anyway.

“What the fuck was he thinking?”

He tried to offer me peace of mind and it backfired .

“You saw it happen right?” He nodded. “Did he get hurt at all? Physically?” He shook his head, and you sighed. “Do you think he’d ask for help if his soul was hurt?”

I don’t think you need to worry about that.

“Except I am.” You groaned into your hands. “I feel bad for yelling at him, but I have no idea how I’m supposed to feel about this.”

How are you feeling right now?

“Upset. Angry. Fucking pissed.” You sat up, and he moved closer. “I don’t know what I’m more upset about, Gaster. The fact that he could've hurt himself or the fact that he brought him back.”

Gaster was silent for a moment. The second one. But for a different reason than you’re thinking right now.

You wiped your tears away. “Elaborate.”

You mentioned it earlier. If Sans discovers this, Red runs the risk of being sent back. Of everyone being sent back. But… he grew silent, and you stared at him, waiting patiently. You figured Red kept this a secret from Sans for the same reason you worried about.

“What?”

I want to believe that Sans is not heartless . Metaphorically.

“Me too. I wish I could tell him everything.” You sighed. “I wish he wouldn’t get upset if I do, but I think he’ll be more than upset. Beyond upset.”

Gaster laughed, and for a moment you wished Red had been successful. Gaster’s laugh was something you wanted to hear outside of your head.

His skull would explode .

You laughed softly. There was a knock at your door and Gaster left when he realized it was Red, giving you both a moment of privacy.

“Did you need help looking for something,” you asked, but Red shook his head and closed the door behind him.

“Wing said he’s good with being lowkey.” He rolled his shoulders back like he was trying to ease the tension. “If that’s something you were worried about.”

“Maybe.”

He looked worried, and then tired. “If you just let me-“

“If you had just left that stupid machine alone,” you said, rubbing your tired eyes.

Your chest felt heavy with pressure, and you worried it had to do with your soul, but asking Red to check for you was now the last thing you wanted to do. He looked taken aback, but you didn’t let him talk.

“What were you thinking,” you asked him. “Not about today, but from the start. What was your very first thought when you took that prototype without telling Sans?”

Red had crossed his arms, and now his sharp fingers were digging into the soft material of his sweater. “I’m still trying to help Sans bring Gaster back.”

“Was this now or then-“

“This was when I took the prototype. He promised he wouldn’t touch his machine, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t keep helping.”

He lowered his gaze and you leaned back against the wall. “You kept this from me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to work.”

You sighed. “Whatever. I guess we’re both having rough nights.”

After a bout of silence, Red spoke up, his voice strangely quiet.

“Where were you tonight?”

You started to laugh. “Are you asking me as a curious friend?” Only mothers, curious friends, and romantic partners were allowed to ask where you were. At the moment, Red felt like neither.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shook your head, dismissing the foolish thought.

“I was with Cash.”

You’d been talking with Black close to midnight, but now it was nearly 1 a.m. and you had work with Sans in the morning. Red wasn’t good at hiding his emotions, and you could tell he was upset the moment Cash’s name left your lips.

“Doin’ what?”

“Nothing.” You were about to turn over and go to sleep, ready to abandon the conversation, but you turned to him. “What’s Black’s number?”

He gave you a scrutinizing look. “What do you need it for?”

“I have to ask him something.”

Red gave you a look of annoyance, but your patience was wearing thin.

“I talked to him earlier,” you said. “When I dropped Cash off at Toriel’s.”

“You really need to stop hanging out with him.” Red stepped closer to your bed, dropping down to a crouch beside you. “I know I sound like a jerk when I keep saying it, but at this rate, you’re risking the both of us.”

You sat up straighter, your brows furrowed. “You’re one to talk.”

“I’m being serious.” His eyes blazed a little brighter, and in the dim lighting of your cheap night light, they looked slightly menacing. When you didn’t say anything, he stood up and pressed on. “Why do you like hanging out with him, anyway?”

You laid down and turned to the other side, away from him. “He’s not a liar.”

It must have been enough to stun him into silence, but you regretted your words.

“You’re not bein’ fair.”

“Go to bed, Red. I work with Sans in the morning. I had a rough night.”

He said your name once, like he was pleading for just a moment of understanding.

“I’ll ask Cash or Rus for Black’s number if you won’t give it to me.”

Red left, snapping on his way out, “Go ahead. See if I care.”

Not even Gaster’s presence was enough to lull you into sleep.

Chapter Text

When you woke up and got ready for work, you could barely focus. A part of you wished last night’s argument had been a dream, but when you saw Wing in the kitchen, a cup of coffee sitting untouched in front of him, you felt the heaviness in your chest again. You worried it could be your soul, but you forced that thought to the back of your head.

“Goodmorning, human girl,” he said with a smile. He wore his clothes from last night, but without the black coat. You hadn’t noticed the fancy red dress shirt he wore underneath. 

“Goodmorning.” You turned on your coffee maker and prepared a cup for yourself.

“Did you sleep well?”

You turned to him, his expression smug for some reason. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, that argument with Red must have taken a toll on you,” he said with a tsk and a shake of his head. “He’s selfish. Not sure where he got that from.”

“Quick question,” you said. “How are you two related?”

Wing hummed. “It’s complicated. Well,” he shrugged. “Not really. I did create Sans and Papyrus, so that would make me their creator, or father, as you believed. But-”

“Red hates you that much?”

Wing stirred his coffee. “What he feels for me is beyond hate, but I suppose it’s close enough.”

“So, he sees you as a brother?”

“You’re misunderstanding,” he said, pivoting in his seat so that he fully faced you. “Red doesn’t see me as anything. I may have created him, but to him, I’m nothing. Perhaps a nuisance, but-”

“But you called him your brother earlier.”

Wing shrugged.

“What do you mean created?”

“You know,” he said, as if you did know, but was cut off when Red walked in.

“What are you two talking about,” he asked gruffly. 

You couldn’t even look him in the eye, but it’s not like he was trying to talk to you directly, anyway. Wing must have noticed your desire to ignore Red, because now he also seemed to be doing the same.

“Wing?”

Wing shrugged, stirring his coffee enough to spill it over the edges. “Personal things, you wouldn’t understand.”

Red raised a brow bone. “Excuse me?”

“I’m heading out,” you interrupted. “Text me if you need anything.”

It took you about three long minutes into the drive to work to realize you forgot your coffee on the counter.

The lack of sleep combined with last night’s fight made you want to miss work, but Sans was expecting you to show up. You could afford to be a few minutes late for some coffee from the shop downstairs.

While you waited for your order, your mind could only think of Wing and Red. Wing had said Red hated him, and you wondered what exactly Wing had done to earn that. It couldn’t have been nothing. You’d done a lot of things to piss Red off, but this was the first instant where you were mad at each other. But now you were worried about where they’d sleep after last night. You felt guilty for making them fend for themselves, and to make it worse, every piece of fancy furniture in the facility reminded you of your empty home.

As you were lost in your thoughts, someone’s hand in front of your face snapped you out of it. You blinked in surprise, looking up at Sans.

“You okay? They called your name a few times, but you were just staring,” he said, handing you your cup of coffee.

“Thank you.” You took it, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“Late night?”

You nodded.

“Figured.” He tapped his foot, looked around a bit, and you were about to ask him something when you noticed Stretch waiting in line. “Can I ask you something?”

You looked back at Sans. “Go ahead.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Was Red really at your place last night?”

You must have looked shocked at his knowledge of it, but his reaction mirrored yours. “Did he tell you?”

“Yeah, he texted me pretty late. So he was there?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You were too scared to offer him any information. What if Red had already come up with a lie, and you messed it up?

Stretch joined you. “So, are you two dating?”

You shook your head, feeling your face heat up. “No, we’re just friends.”

Stretch hummed. “They always start as just friends,” he said to Sans, elbowing him.

“We’re friends,” you repeated sternly, rising from your seat. “I’ll be in the lab. I have some stuff I need to get started on.”

Sans looked like he was about to say something, but you didn’t stick around to find out what. On the way to the lab, you texted Cash to see how he was holding up.

Me: How are you?

He, or rather Rus, didn’t respond until you reached the lab and shrugged on your lab coat.

$$$: He’s asleep

$$$: I’m with him at Toriel’s did you need something

You perked up a bit.

Me: Can I have Black’s number? I needed to ask him something

Rus didn’t bother asking what you needed it for, he simply sent the contact info. You figured Black would’ve already explained to his own brother how he knows you.

As you worked, you tried your best to ignore Sans and Stretch. They were too occupied with their own things, and it helped that you kept your earbuds on to appear busy. A few messages popped up on your screen from Red, but when you read them, it was clear Wing had snatched his phone.

Red: Hello, I need a lot of things from the store

Followed by a list of things he needed from the store, which was more than you had anticipated, but who were you to judge?

Red: Also when do you plan on buying a sofa? “Red” and I slept on the floor like animals

Red: I think a dark gray would suit this place. Or maybe tan.

Red: Red refuses to feed me any human food because he said I’ll die, is that true?

Me: You were the royal scientist at one point, shouldn’t you know this?

Me: Humans need to acclimate to monster foods, not the other way around. You can eat whatever your want

Me: Weren’t you drinking coffee earlier???

He continued on with his messages until you begged him to find anything else to do while you were working. You also wondered why Red had let Wing even touch his phone in the first place.

You were engrossed in your work when you felt someone standing behind you, and to your surprise it was Stretch.

“Did you need something?”

“You work for Alphys right?”

You nodded.

“And what’s your opinion on her?”

You were stunned by the question, up until you remembered that Red did not like her for some reason.

“She’s a cool boss,” you said hesitantly, turning back to your work. “Do you work for Sans?”

“Everyone I know is pretty divided on how they feel about her,” Stretch said, ignoring your question. He crossed his arms and stood to your right. “I’m okay with her, but my brother thinks she’s… kinda plain. But Red hates her.” When you didn’t react, he leaned down slightly. “You knew that already?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah, he let it slip once.”

“Doesn’t bother you?”

“No, I just work for her.”

Stretch nodded, tapping his foot like he was getting impatient. “Do you like working for her?”

You stopped what you were doing to turn and face him, giving him your complete attention. “Did you need something?”

“Just making conversation.”

“While I’m working?”

He smiled and nodded. “Sans is on break, and I’m bored.” His smile dropped. “But I have a weird favor to ask you.”

You leaned back in your seat. Weird favors were a package deal when it came to meeting the skeletons. “How weird?”

“Depends on how you take it.” You nodded for him to continue. “Have you met Red’s younger brother?”

You shook your head.

Stretch rubbed at his neck. “Well, Edge hates to admit this, but he’s kinda jealous that Red made a new friend. You and him hang out often, so it’s been a while since they hung out.”

Your heart broke for a skeleton you had yet to meet.

“We’d tell him, but at this rate, you have a better chance of telling him without pissing him off.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at the irony. Right now, they thought Red was only willing to talk to you, but after last night, you were most likely that very last person on his list. But they didn’t know that. He stayed over at your place, sure, but not for the reasons they think.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Sweet,” Stretch said, walking away. “Thanks.”

You turned back to your work, and, miraculously, neither skeleton bothered you for the rest of the day. You wondered if Stretch had only showed up to ask for that specific favor, but when you bid them farewell, Stretch was pinning complicated graphs to a corkboard and spouting something about particle wavelengths.

While you gathered most of Wing’s requests at the store, you got distracted and wandered to the alcohol aisle. You weren’t exactly a drinker, but with the way things were going, maybe a little sip of something would loosen you up a bit. But you didn’t cave in. Not even the prettiest bottles were enough to convince you.

You pushed your cart roughly, and just as you were rounding the corner, your cart smashed into something. Hard .

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.”

Your blood froze at the sound of Black’s voice, and when you saw him cradling a smashed box of eggs, you could have died of embarrassment.

“Fuck,” you choked out, and Black’s eye lights went wide when he realized you had smashed the eggs.

Egg yolks and shells had cracked and splattered against his lilac colored shirt, staining it with a mix of yellow and clear goop. He stood straighter and stared at you, and all you could do was stare back.

“I’m so sorry,” you managed to say weakly, deeply embarrassed and scared you might cry because of it.

Black seemed to shake himself from his own thoughts, picking bits of the shells off his shirt. “IT’S QUITE ALRIGHT.” When he saw the defeated look on your face, he chuckled nervously. “IT’S REALLY NOT A BIG DEAL.”

“I ruined your shirt. And I hit you really fucking hard.” You sighed shakily, abandoning your cart. You took the carton of eggs from his hands and brushed some of the eggshells off, looking up at him. “Are you hurt?”

“I’M NOT FRAGILE,” he said, and he pushed your hand away gently. “GIVE ME THAT, YOU DON’T NEED TO-”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” you said quickly, leaving in search of a trash can or an employee who could help you.

Eventually, you found an employee who helped you find a trash can, and after describing the incident, she assured you it wasn’t necessary to pay for the damaged eggs. Today was really not your day, and the universe seemed happy about that.

You returned to Black with some wet and dry paper towels from the restroom.

As he wiped the mess away from his shirt, he regarded you with a worried expression. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT? YOU SEEM OUT OF IT.”

“I just got off work,” you said. “I think I’m just tired”

For a few terrifying minutes, you wondered if he would pay attention to what exactly you had in your cart. Most of it was toiletries for Red and Wing, some clothes, and two air mattresses. Wing had also requested a leather journal and a fountain pen. What would Black have to say when he realized the clothes in there were much too big for you or Red if he went as far as to assume?

But he didn’t.

“ARE YOU IN A HURRY TO GET HOME?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t in any hurry. In fact, you had been purposefully wasting time wandering around instead of heading straight home.

“IS RED STILL THERE?”

“Uh, I think so. Most likely. Yeah.” You shrugged, swallowing the lump in your throat. “What were the eggs for? I’ll buy them for you.”

“THAT WON’T BE NECESSARY.”

But you were already heading towards the eggs and he was forced to follow.

“THEY WERE FOR MY COUSIN, PAPYRUS,” he said with a smile, after realizing your plan. “HE WANTS TO MAKE PANCAKES TOMORROW MORNING, BUT BLUE BROKE ALL THE EGGS TRYING TO BAKE SOMETHING.”

“That’s really unfortunate.”

“YES, IT IS.” He managed to beat you to it when you tried reaching for the same carton of eggs he had earlier. “I DON’T THINK THEY’LL BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THIS WASN’T MY FAULT,” he joked, gesturing to his shirt.

“I’m really sorry about that,” you said, feeling your face heat up again. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning. Or I can wash it myself.”

“NO THANK YOU.”

“Black.”

He kept walking, waving a hand dismissively. “IT’S ALRIGHT.”

You caught up to him. “I feel bad for running you over with-”

“YOU DIDN’T RUN ME OVER,” he said, stopping so suddenly you almost hit him again. “JUST DROP IT. I CAN TELL YOU WERE ALREADY HAVING A BAD DAY BEFORE THIS.”

You both waited in line together, and he waited while you bagged and paid for your items. Hopefully you hadn’t missed anything Wing had asked for. When you were outside, you stopped him before he could walk away.

“Did you teleport here?”

“IT’S ‘SHORTCUT’, BUT YES.”

“Do you want a ride home?”

-

The bridge of Black’s nose wrinkled, and you were sure the scent of the raw egg was starting to bother him. He rolled down the window, letting the cool air in.

The drive was silent at first, the initial awkwardness just barely beginning to dissipate when you were about fifteen minutes from the location Black had input into your GPS. You figured he agreed to the ride only to shut you up about the eggs and his shirt, and you hoped he took it as a form of apology. Even though this was probably taking much longer than if he had just teleported home.

“SO WHAT HAPPENED?”

You blinked in confusion at first, stuck in your own head. “Huh?”

“I DON’T MEAN TO SOUND JUDGEMENTAL,” he began, “BUT YOU LOOKED ON THE VERGE OF TEARS EARLIER. DID SOMETHING HAPPEN BETWEEN YOU AND RED? OR MAYBE AT WORK?”

You began to shake your head, ready to pretend nothing happened and place the blame on your own silly thoughts, but you stopped. “Red and I argued about something.”

“I SEE. WELL, HE MUST NOT TRULY BE UPSET IF HE STAYED THE NIGHT.” 

“He has no other choice,” you muttered, furrowing your brows.

“THAT DIDN’T SOUND WORRYING AT ALL.”

“He’s helping me with something,” you added. “But he was just upset about Cash. And something else. Mostly about Cash.” You weren’t sure which Red was more mad about, in truth.

“YOU TOLD HIM?”

You nodded slowly. “He asked where I was, so I told him. Not exactly, but I-” you stopped, unsure of what you were trying to say. “I don’t know. I think I’m stressed. My heart…”

“I TAKE IT YOU DIDN’T ASK HIM TO CHECK YOUR SOUL. HAS ANYONE CHECKED IT SINCE CASH?”

You shook your head.

“YOU SHOULD CHECK IT SOON. IT COULD BE THAT YOUR SOUL ISN’T HEALING.”

Another bout of silence took over, and Black took to facing the window for the most part. You hadn’t even realized you reached your destination until the GPS had declared it so loudly. You parked, but you weren’t sure where you were exactly. There were some houses down the street, but from where you were, you couldn’t look at them properly.

All you could see were incredibly wide, luscious green lawns and expensive cars parked in driveways.

“ABOUT YOUR SOUL-”

“Holy shit, are you guys rich?”

“FOCUS.”

You turned to look at him, your hands gripping the steering wheel.

“YOUR SOUL?”

“I don’t want to ask Red right now,” you said, whispering even though no one was around to hear. “And I feel like asking Cash again would piss Red off more. Cash doesn’t even know what my soul is supposed to look like, so there’s no point in asking him. Asking Toriel is out of the question.” You let go of the steering wheel. “I already bother her too much as it is.”

Black hummed, then murmured, “THAT IS A PREDICAMENT.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Could you do it?”

Black’s sockets widened like the very mention of him doing it was the most shocking thing on the planet. To him, it probably was. “ME?”

“You’ve seen it before.”

“YES, BUT-”

“You’re the only one who’s suggested even checking my soul.”

Cash hadn’t brought it up, and despite Red’s initial annoyance, neither had he.

You rested your forehead on the steering wheel, closed your eyes, and tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry.”

You heard Black shift in his seat, and when he spoke, his voice sounded closer. “WHAT FOR?”

“Dropping all of this on you. We met, what, not even a week ago?” You lifted your head and looked at him. The sun was just beginning to set, but his eyes were a primary source of light in your car. “This must be really weird for you. What I’m asking you to do.”

“I MEAN,” he chuckled nervously. “A LITTLE BIT. BUT,” he cleared his throat, “RED SERIOUSLY HASN’T ASKED? NOT EVEN A SMALL SUGGESTION?”

You shook your head. “Has he brought it up to you?”

“NO.” Black sighed, shifting in his seat again. He positioned himself so that he was fully facing you. “ALRIGHT. LET’S DO IT.”

You blinked a few times.

“ARE YOU BLINKING IN MORSE CODE?” Black snapped in a whisper. “COME ON, BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND.”

“You’re agreeing?”

“WOULD YOU LIKE ME NOT TO AGREE?”

“No, no, no, I just thought-” you paused, looking out the windows. “Here? Outside your house? What if Sans gets here?”

“IF I’M GOING TO CHECK YOUR SOUL, I’D LIKE TO KNOW WHY YOU ALWAYS AVOID SANS IN EXCHANGE.”

“I have my reasons.”

He gave you a deadpan stare.

“Fine! I’ll… think about it,” you said quietly.

“ALRIGHT. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO DO IT HERE, I CAN STOP BY YOUR PLACE-”

“Nope.”

“TORIEL’S IT IS,” he said, unlocking the car door. Black stepped out with the bag of eggs. “I’LL SEE YOU LATER. JUST GIVE ME A CALL.”

“How do you know I have your number?”

Black closed the car door and shrugged. “MY BROTHER TELLS ME EVERYTHING.”

“Fair enough.” Your smile was strained. “See you later.”

Chapter Text

The house was quiet when you arrived. It was almost enough to worry you, but you figured if Red and Wing had any altercations, Gaster would have informed you. Or maybe he was busy playing mediator, since you hadn’t seen him all day.

You held tight onto the heavy bags and found Wing and Gaster in the kitchen, whispering amongst themselves, but Red was nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” you greeted.

Hello.

Wing looked at you with a grin. “Welcome home.”

You dropped all the bags and craned your neck to listen for any sign that Red might be upstairs. When you heard nothing, you turned to them. “Is Red not here?”

Wing glanced at the bags, then nodded to the garage door. You hadn’t even noticed it was wide open, and when you poked your head into the garage, the basement door was also wide open.

The first thing you felt was a sting of betrayal, but you forced yourself to swallow it down. He wouldn’t go out of his way to piss you off, would he? Still, you found yourself walking down the steps to the basement.

It was still dimly lit by the night light, and you could see Red standing a few feet away from the machine, his arms crossed. The glare of his eyes bounced off the rough metal, two red pinpricks. He hadn’t worn his gloves since the day you’d seen him in the lab, which wasn’t even that long ago. But it was an odd sight, anyway.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure something out.” He sighed and turned around, his expression defeated. “Relax, I didn’t touch it.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Did Gaster keep you updated?”

“No. I haven’t seen Gaster all day.” You rocked back on your heels. “Can we go upstairs?”

Red looked somewhat disappointed, but he followed you up anyway. When you entered the kitchen, you noticed Wing had taken to sorting through all the bags and organizing all the contents. He watched you and Red silently as you both took seats at the dining table. For some reason, he was strangely quiet.

You fiddled with your jacket sleeves. “By the way, I saw Stretch today.”

Red finally met your eye.

“He asked me for a favor.”

Red’s brows drew downward. “What favor?”

“It’s about your brother.”

He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Why couldn’t you tell me downstairs?”

“I just remembered right now.” You crossed your arms, leaned forward, and matched his whisper. “All he said was that he noticed Edge might be jealous that you’ve been spending all your time with me instead of hanging out with him.”

“Edge would’ve told me.”

“Edge?” Wing rolled his eyes. “Is that the stupid name they’ve given to Papyrus?”

“Stay out of this,” Red snapped at him. “And it’s not stupid.”

“Yes, it is.” Wing walked closer to the table. “Why did he get that name? Was it supposed to be an insult? I can tell the lack of creativity runs-”

“Wing, could you please not do this right now?”

Wing blinked in surprise at your interruption. “Papyrus is a perfectly good name,” he said finally. He grabbed the notebook and packet of black pens you’d purchased for him and left.

Red watched him leave, then turned his attention back to you, his expression sour. “My brother would’ve told me.”

“Okay, maybe,” you said. “But you should also consider the fact that you haven’t really been home for a little bit. And super busy in general.”

“So?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Maybe this was why Stretch had asked you to talk to him. “Listen, Stretch said Edge would hate to admit it, so maybe that’s why you haven’t heard anything.”

Red remained silent, but he narrowed his eyes.

“Has he texted you? Called you?”

“No, but that doesn’t-”

“Fine,” you interrupted, pulling out your phone. You texted Black. “You know him better than I do, so who am I to judge? I’m just doing what Stretch asked me.”

“Whatever.”

You walked out the kitchen and went up the stairs, startling yourself at the sight of Wing and Gaster milling about outside his room. They both stopped talking abruptly.

“What have you guys been up to,” you asked slowly.

Wing stood straighter. “Comparing memories.”

You nodded and turned to head into your room, but turned back at the last second. “Wing, do you remember everything from your reality?”

Wing shrugged. “Somewhat. My memories from when Sans and Papyrus-”

He means Red and Edge.

“ Ahem .” Wing glared at Gaster briefly. “As I was saying, my memories from when they were very young are intact, but after the accident, there’s a gap.”

“What accident?”

Wing took a few seconds to respond, blinking at you. “Do you seriously not know about what happened? To me or him?”

You shook your head, about to ask for clarity, but a text from Black distracted you. “I’m sorry, Wing. Could you tell me another time? I have somewhere to be.”

“I’d be happy to.”

You went into your room and changed out of your work clothes, and when you came back out, Wing and Gaster were in the living room.

“I’ll be back,” you called out, not bothering to wait for a response.

-

You spoke with Toriel on the drive there and explained your need for her living space. At first she was a bit confused- worried, even, when you vaguely mentioned the argument with Red- but she was more than willing to have you over. Especially when she revealed Black had already called her way before you did.

When you arrived, Black still wasn’t there, but this gave you more time to make sure Toriel wasn’t too peeved about this.

“Peeved? Why would I be?”

You leaned against the kitchen counter. “I show up at the weirdest times and ask you for the weirdest favors. And I ask you to keep this all a secret from your bestie.”

Toriel hummed. “I might not understand your very specific situation, but I understand them . And your relationship with them isn’t always going to be a perfectly straight road. Red is quick to anger, but he cares. Sans is distrusting of others, but fiercely loyal.”

You furrowed your brows. “I’m confused.”

“I just mean to say that I understand why you chose to come here.” She flipped through her book of recipes, reading one for a few seconds before flipping to the next. “Though, I am curious how Black came to be your savior in this situation.”

You chuckled awkwardly. “Savior? I don’t know what you mean, Toriel.”

“Well, he’s going to check your soul, correct?”

Your eyes widen. “I would've asked you-”

“Oh, no you wouldn’t,” she said with a laugh. “You’ll visit my home a thousand more times before you feel defeated enough to ask me. And even then, you’ll do it with reluctance.”

“I don’t mean to offend you,” you said quickly. “I just-”

“Don’t want to ask me for too much,” she finished. “Don’t worry, I understand. I also have a very limited quantity of people who I’d ever allow to see my soul. You must trust Black a great deal.”

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I think it’s because I don’t see it as how monsters see it. Red was mad about Cash checking because to him, it’s something intimate, but Cash didn’t mind because we’re friends, so he definitely doesn’t think it’s that much of a big deal. I feel like I’d ask any random person to check.”

“Then why Black instead of Cash? That couldn’t have been random.”

You sighed. “Every time I see Black, he always asks how I feel.”

Toriel paused. “Cash does not?”

“He does, but he never asks about my soul.” You averted her eyes. “Black does, though. Usually he does, I think.”

“I see.”

“See what?”

Toriel smiled. “You feel comfortable around him.”

“But does he feel the same? I feel like I take advantage of his kindness.” You interrupted Toriel’s protest and asked, “You talked to him, right? Did he tell you I ran him over with a cart a few hours ago! I-”

“SHE DID NOT RUN ME OVER.”

You were embarrassed of the shriek you let out at his sudden appearance. When you spotted him at the entrance of the kitchen, he was wearing a different shirt, this one a charcoal gray.

“HELLO TO THE BOTH OF YOU. AM I THE TOPIC OF CONVERSATION? PLEASE, GO ON,” he said with a smirk. “I LOVE THE ATTENTION.”

“It was against our will,” you quipped.

“OF COURSE IT WAS.” Black clapped his hands together, then looked at you. “ALRIGHT, SHALL WE?”

Toriel gave you a reassuring nod, and you and Black went to the living room to sit on the sofa.

“Cash and Rus were here earlier,” you said absently as you sat down, grabbing one of the decorative pillows and placing it on your lap.

“YES, I KNOW,” he said sitting next to you. “THEY WERE HOME WHEN YOU DROPPED ME OFF. BY THE WAY,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “I OVERHEARD CASH MENTION SOMEONE NAMED BETSY. DO YOU KNOW IF HE’S MADE ANOTHER FRIEND?”

You froze at the mention of Betsy, your eyes going wide. You rubbed your neck, “Uh, don’t worry. Betsy’s no one important.” Black would probably find out soon enough if Cash was telling Rus about her, anyway.

He raised a brow bone. “REALLY?” 

You nodded. “So,” you said, somewhat impatient because of the nerves. “Do I just… sit, or-”

Black tilted his head, a look of confusion on his face. “YOU’VE HAD YOUR SOUL CHECKED BEFORE, WHY ARE YOU NERVOUS NOW?”

“Last time I was barely lucid!”

“JUST CALM DOWN,” he said, holding his palms up as if to calm a rabid animal. You furrowed your brows, and he lowered his hands. “YOU’VE DONE THIS BEFORE. IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL TO EITHER OF US. OKAY?”

“Right. Okay.”

Black raised his hands again and repeated the same motion Cash had done when he checked you, like he was tugging at an invisible string. The way Black held your soul in the palm of one hand felt different than when Cash did it. You couldn’t describe it, but the feeling was there, and you couldn’t stop staring at the glowing orange heart before you.

Black was mostly silent, his sockets narrowing as he examined the soul. As it floated before you, Black would flex his fingers lightly and your soul would rotate.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT,” he asked with a brief glance to your face, his volume low.

You nodded. “It looks the same to me.”

Black grimaced. “YES, THAT’S CONCERNING.”

Concerning and true. Your soul had barely changed at all, the color still annoyingly bright and the size unchanging.

“YOU HAVEN’T SHORTCUT ANYWHERE WITH RED HAVE YOU?”

You shook your head. No.

“HEALED BY ANYONE?”

No.

“FORCED INTO A MAGICAL DUEL?”

“No, what the fuck?”

“JUST MAKING SURE,” Black said, his eyes remaining on your soul throughout the interrogation. “IT COULD BE STRESS.”

You hesitated. “Maybe. You know more about human souls than I do.”

“YES, I DO. NOW TELL ME,” Black said. “DOES THIS STRESS COME FROM WORK?”

Your soul glowed brighter. “It has a built-in lie detector,” you screeched.

Black shushed you. “DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH SANS?”

A sudden pain in your chest.

“OR RED?”

“Okay,” you said, reaching out to touch your own soul. “I’m done. This is more draining than I thought.”

Before you could make contact, Black took your wrist in his hand. “DON’T,” he said tensely. “LET ME PUT IT BACK.”

You wanted to ask why you weren’t allowed to touch your own soul, but Black had already returned your soul and offered you an apologetic look.

“IT’S DEFINITELY STRESS. YOU NEED TO DIAL BACK WHATEVER INTERACTIONS YOU HAVE WITH THEM, BECAUSE THEY’RE CLEARLY NOT HELPING YOU GET ANY BETTER.”

You sighed through your nose, thinking of all the lies you’d been keeping track of since meeting Cash.

“How do you know so much?”

Black blinked in surprise at your question. “I’M A MEDICAL RECEPTIONIST. I’VE SEEN MY FAIR SHARE OF… EVERYTHING,” he said with a small shrug.

For some reason, that wasn’t what you were expecting.

“That sounds like fun.”

“YES, IT DOES,” Black said distractedly.

You place a hand over your chest, noticing the way your heart was beating erratically. “Can you seriously use my soul as a lie detector?”

Black’s stare was distant. “NO, NOT QUITE.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Oh.”

Black looked pensive for a moment, then snapped back to reality, his eyes glowing bright. “WHY DO YOU AVOID SANS?”

You groaned. “Ask me anything else.”

“WHY DID RED STAY OVER AT YOUR PLACE?”

“It’s work related.”

“YOU SAID HE WAS HELPING YOU WITH SOMETHING.”

“He is,” you said a little too quickly. “But I’m also helping him with… something.”

“AND THAT IS?”

“Work. Related.”

“BACK TO THE FIRST QUESTION.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded eagerly. “VERY SERIOUSLY.”

“I like to keep my personal life and work life separate. He also doesn’t know about me and Cash being friends, or about me coming over to Toriel’s everyday, or that I know you at all.”

He leaned back against the sofa cushion. “THAT’S NO REASON TO AVOID HIM, IS IT?”

“He’s using Red to get information out of me.”

You and Black both stared at each other, sockets wide with shock. You had no idea why you let that slip, but you did. Black smiled like he was finally getting the information he wanted.

“GO ON.”

You told him. Not everything, heaven’s no. But you explained that Sans’s weird (not weird at all, in reality) mistrust for you led to him bribing Red so that he could fake a friendship with you to determine if the mistrust was justified.

“THAT IS… STRANGE.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“NO, I DO. IT’S JUST,” he shrugged. “STRANGE. BUT HE MUST HAVE HIS REASONS.” When you got quiet, Black was quick to speak again. “I’M NOT DEFENDING HIS BEHAVIOR, I JUST-”

“It’s not that,” you interrupted.

“OKAY. STILL,” Black said, rising from the sofa. “I KNOW IT’S QUITE IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU, BUT TRY TO LIMIT THOSE INTERACTIONS. WITH BOTH OF THEM. FOR YOUR BENEFIT.” He shot you a smile. “DOCTOR’S ORDERS.”

“Except you’re not a doctor,” you said, standing up and following him to the kitchen

“CLOSE ENOUGH.”

You had no idea how you were supposed to avoid Red when he was currently staying over until further notice or Sans when you shared a workplace with him.

At this point it would take a miracle for your soul to heal. 

Chapter Text

The first time Sans mentioned you, it was an offhand comment about Alphys’s assistant.

The second time was when Blue looked over Red’s shoulder while you and him were trying to set up plans to hang out. Blue had read your name out loud and interpreted Red’s text as a flirty response to your question, which Blue took the liberty of reenacting, much to Red’s annoyance.

After that, it was a constant question of “how’s your girlfriend?” and, if he came home late, “how was your date?”

Then, one day, Black asked Red a question when it was just them, Blue, Cash, and Rus in the game room. Black and Red were seated on opposite ends of the sofa in one corner, Blue was playing pool with Cash, and Rus was playing some video game on the big screen TV.

“WHAT DOES ORANGE LOOK LIKE TO YOU?”

Red shrugged. “Weird,” he grumbled. “Why?”

“WAIT, I WANNA KNOW,” Blue said, dropping his cue and pulling out his phone. He walked over to Red and showed him a picture of a rainbow. “OKAY, THIS FIRST ONE IS RED, AND THE NEXT ONE-”

“Orange and red look the same to me, buddy ,” Red snapped. “There. Now back off.”

“IT’S IMPORTANT YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE,” Blue said, crossing his arms. “WHAT IF WE NEED YOU TO CUT A WIRE AND YOU CUT THE WRONG ONE?”

“In what situation-”

“I’M JUST SAYING,” Blue shrugged, plopping down on the empty spot beside Red on the sofa. “WE COULD ALL BE DUST IF YOU CUT THE WRONG WIRE. OR WORSE. WE’LL END UP WITH A WEIRD NAME BECAUSE SOMEONE DOESN’T KNOW THEIR COLORS.”

Rus barked out a laugh, speaking to Cash. “We got lucky. Papyrus loves creative names.”

“Who the fuck decided to let me name you guys,” Red asked. “You guys could’ve picked your own damn names.”

“NO WE COULDN’T,” Blue argued. “YOU AND CLASSIC SENT THOSE DOCUMENTS BEFORE YOU EVEN TOLD US. NOW WE’RE STUCK WITH BEING NAMED AFTER COLORS. LEGALLY . SOMEONE ASKED ME THE OTHER DAY IF I WAS NAMED AFTER BLUE IVY.”

“Who’s that,” Cash asked.

“Beyonce’s kid,” Red said.

“Who is-”

“NOT IMPORTANT. I’M WAY OLDER, HOW WOULD I BE NAMED AFTER HER?”

Rus spoke above Blue's complaints. “Is no one going to ask why Black asked if Red could see the color orange or not?”

“YEAH, BLACK, WHY’D YOU ASK,” Blue asked, leaning forward.

“I WAS JUST WONDERING,” Black said simply.

“No, that can’t be,” Rus said, his smile smug though no one could see it. “You couldn’t have asked that out of nowhere, brother.”

“Just say it,” Red said, but he looked distracted, typing away at his phone.

“I WAS JUST WONDERING,” Black repeated. “IF YOU’D BE ABLE TO SEE THE COLOR OF HER SOUL PROPERLY, WITH IT BEING ORANGE.”

When Red realized what he said, his sockets went wide, and he turned slowly to look at Black. “ What ?”

“WOAH,” Blue said, sitting up straight, his eyes dilating. “ARE WE TALKING ABOUT HER ?”

“Hold on,” Rus interrupted, turning to his brother midgame. “Cash told me he saw it, but how do you-”

“HOW THE FUCK DID CASH SEE IT,” Blue interrupted, positioning himself on the couch so that he was fully facing Red. “YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU LET CASH AND BLACK SEE YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S SOUL? DIDN’T YOU GET TO SEE IT?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Red snapped, pushing Blue’s face away. “For fuck’s sake, back up. She was sick and-”

“SO HER SOUL IS ORANGE,” Blue was asking Cash, now standing and approaching him. “WAIT, YOU CHECKED HER SOUL? IF I WERE RED, I’D-”

“They’re friends ,” Rus interrupted. “And she was sick. I think that’s more than enough reason to-”

“SINCE WHEN ARE CASH AND RED’S GIRLFRIEND FRIENDS?”

“SINCE BEFORE HER AND RED STARTED DATING,” Black joked, biting back a laugh as Red turned to face him with a look of betrayal.

“We’re not dating!”

“QUIET, I’M THINKING,” Blue said, rubbing the tiny scar over his right eye. “RED, BE HONEST,” Blue said. “DID SHE CHEAT ON YOU?”

Red groaned into his gloved hands. “You guys fucking suck.”

“WITH BLACK OR WITH CASH?”

Black looked offended. “DON’T ROPE ME INTO THIS.”

“You started it,” Rus said with a grin. “We’re overdue for a good argument, anyway.”

Red sighed and looked up. “She and I aren’t dating. Cash met her a while ago, but Classic doesn’t know, so be quiet about this.” He glared at Blue. “You especially.”

“I’M NOT A SNITCH.” Blue turned to Cash. “HOW’D YOU TWO MEET?”

“Ummm.” Cash glanced at Red, looking hesitant. “Factory. The doll one.”

“Don’t tell him,” Red scolded.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM TELLING ME? WE’RE PRACTICALLY RELATED,” Blue said with a frown. “OR ARE YOU MAD HE’S BUDDIES WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND?”

Magic flooded Red's face. “That’s not- we aren’t-”

“LET HIM MAKE FRIENDS,” Blue interrupted. “HOW ELSE IS HE SUPPOSED TO ADJUST? IT TOOK MONTHS BEFORE YOU AND CLASSIC LET ME OUT OF THE HOUSE.”

Rus paused his game and turned around. “You almost killed our neighbor, didn’t you?”

“YEAH, BECAUSE THEIR VERSION OF ‘LET THEM ADJUST’ IS TO KEEP US LOCKED UP.” Blue grinded his teeth. “LEARNING IS POINTLESS UNLESS YOU PRACTICE. YOU AND BLACK GOT LUCKY.”

“We still had to wait a few-”

“DAYS. LESS THAN A WEEK. BECAUSE, WHAT? YOU GUYS BREACHED THE SURFACE AGES AGO AND WERE ALREADY ADJUSTED TO HUMANS.” When they all stared at him, unsure of what to say, Blue huffed. “I’M JUST SAYING IT’S STUPID TO EXPECT CASH TO STAY AT HOME ALL THE TIME. HE’S GONNA GO INSANE EVENTUALLY.”

“Well, you clearly haven’t been paying attention,” Red said. “Cash has been going out.”

“HE WENT TO THE STORE WITH ME NOT LONG AGO,” Black reminded him. “SO CLASSIC MUST HAVE SOME TRUST IN HIM.”

“TRUST? HE’S PROBABLY TIRED OF YOU AND MAL GETTING INTO FIGHTS,” Blue said, crossing his arms and leaning against the pool table. Black glared at him, but Blue was never one to stay silent. “ANYTHING TO GET EITHER OF YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE. DOESN’T MATTER WHICH ONE AS LONG AS BLACK AND MAL AREN’T IN THE SAME ROOM.”

“That’s not true,” Rus said, glaring at Blue. “If that were the case, Classic would make you babysit him instead of Black.”

“I think we’re straying too far from the conversation,” Cash said, rubbing the back of his skull.

“RIGHT! THE FACTORY,” Blue said, turning back to Cash. “WHY THERE? IT’S SUPER UNSAFE.”

“Funny you mention that,” Cash said with a smile. “She and I actually fell through the second floor and-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Red snapped. “The less he knows the better. This idiot is bound to get us caught with his big mouth.”

“YOU IRK ME,” Blue said, frowning again. He turned to Black. “HER SOUL IS ORANGE? BRAVERY’S NOT A BAD TRAIT.”

“Classic also doesn’t know that Black knows her,” Red said. “Or Toriel. You know what? Just don’t mention her. None of you. Ever.”

“YOU’RE NO FUN.”

“You’re annoying.”

Blue scoffed, picking up his cue from off the floor. “WHATEVER.” He moved closer to Cash, elbowing him softly. He whispered, “TELL ME ABOUT IT LATER. IT’S NOT FAIR THEY GET ALL THE DETAILS.”

Cash nodded as discreetly as possible, looking away when he noticed Red’s glare.

Chapter Text

You and Wing both shared a love for puzzles.

It was Friday, nearly midnight, and Red and Gaster were both fast asleep- if Gaster even needed sleep. You had walked out of your room in search of something to drink while working on some last minute spreadsheets, but had run into Wing on your way to the kitchen.

He couldn’t sleep. “It’s that dreadful air mattress.”

“I’ll get that sorted out soon,” you had promised.

Instead of going back to sleep, Wing had asked for any sort of distraction. “Something quiet, so Red doesn’t hit me if I wake him.”

“I have puzzles.”

His eyes shone a little brighter.

Wing had chosen one of outer space, a mess of one-thousand pieces of comets, stars, asteroid belts, and nebulae spilling onto the floor. On the second floor, beside your room, was an empty space that, if a wall had been built, could have been another room but now served as open space for pretty much anything. The previous owners had used it as a play area for their children. Now, your bookshelves and bedside lamp inhabit the space.

You had decided to join Wing in building the puzzle, silently helping him separate the edge pieces from the middle pieces. You noticed he wore the clothes you’d bought him, this outfit consisting of a very large Jurassic Park t-shirt and Pac-Man themed pajama pants.

“I forgot to tell you about us,” Wing said suddenly, his voice just barely a whisper. “Gaster and I.”

You could barely recall what he meant, but the thought returned to you after a moment. “The accident? You said something about there being a gap in your memories after an accident.”

“Yes,” he said, never looking up from the pieces. His hand moved swiftly over the scattered pieces, and it shocked you to see how good he was at finding the right ones and knowing exactly where they went. “At least for me, it happened sometime when Red -” he always said the name like he resented the choice “-was a preteen. I can’t remember exactly what happened, or if an altercation occurred, but I fell into the CORE and-”

“You fell into the CORE?”

“I just said that,” Wing said impatiently. When you gave him an apologetic look, he continued. “Anyway, I fell in and my soul was scattered across time and space. Each piece is linked in some way, but the links are spread so thin, it’s difficult to hold my form for longer than a few seconds. That’s what it felt like, at least.” He signed, holding a piece between his fingers. If he were to hold it in his palm, you noticed, it would fall right through the gaping hole. “I tried for ages to communicate with someone. Anyone. But they’re all stupidly useless. Not even Sans or Papyrus could hear me, let alone Asgore or that maniacal Alphys-”

Another Alphys hater?

“-so I gave up.”

“You gave up?”

Wing gave you a grin. “Have you ever heard of a parrot?”

You glared at him. “Go on.”

“That’s it. That’s what happened.”

You had an array of questions, but after each one, you were meant with a silent stare that only prompted you to ask more questions. “How big is the CORE in the Underground? Did you fall, or were you pushed? How come you didn’t die? Does that count as dying? How did you get here , to this reality? How did you create Red and Edge? What happened after you technically died?”

Wing paused to place an edge piece closer to you, the edges lining up perfectly. He looked at you. “You get one question answered.”

“Fair enough.” You rummaged through the pieces, but none of them looked like they belonged to any of the pieces Wing had already placed. “The one about Red and Edge. How did you create them?”

“I’ll spare you all the boring details, but I used a piece of my soul. It should have killed me, but it was an experiment, after all. You understand the risks one must take in the name of science. As they grew, I suppose their own souls grew over mine.”

“Would that explain why you’re here?”

If Red and Edge truly had been born with pieces of Wing’s soul, then they could have served as a sort of anchor for him. The same way the journal had bound you and Gaster after having spent most of your life obsessing over it.

Wing shrugged.

“Why did you-”

“I already answered your one question.” Wing leaned forward, reaching for a piece. “Now tell me, when do you plan on making up with Red.”

You and Red had avoided each other like the plague in the past few days. You had purposefully stayed later than you needed in the lab, and in turn, Red remained in the living room or left the kitchen whenever you walked in. Though, you had noticed that whenever he ordered take-out, there was always some left for you.

“When he stops avoiding me.” In truth, so were you.

“So you admit you’re ready to forgive him?”

You locked eyes with Wing. “I don’t know. I think I am. Looking back, maybe he was right. I wasn’t being fair. About anything. I never asked him not to use that machine. And I… I asked him to bring it here in the first place, to avoid Sans being suspicious. I shouldn’t have…”

Wing paused in his puzzle-building when you trailed off.

“Is there a reason you asked?”

“Asked what?”

“About me and Red making up. Is there a reason you asked?”

“I thought it was obvious,” he said, looking through the pile of pieces. “He mopes around like he’s lost his true love to a cave in. Everytime I try to do something around the house, he always says something.” He begins to mimic Red in a high-pitched voice. “ Don’t do that, she hates it when you do that. Don’t touch her snacks, she might crave those later. ” Wing made a sound like he was clicking his tongue. “It’s irritating.”

You looked at him, stunned at his words. “Seriously? He’s been acting like that?”

Wing nodded, then sighed dramatically. “Don’t tell him I told you. I’ve said too much.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Why hasn’t he said anything then?”

“I’ve already answered your one question.”

“Maybe Red was onto something when he said he should send you back to the void.”

Wing barked out a laugh, his earlier wish on not waking Red gone. “How invigorating. My dear girl, you’ve no idea how terribly awful the void is,” he said, suddenly somber. “Being here is an infinitely better option.”

“You wouldn’t want to go home?”

Wing shook his head. “There’s nothing there for me. When my soul was scattered, it was as if I ceased to exist. No one would bat an eye if I returned, anyway. Everything I need is here.”

“But Red wants you to leave,” you said in a whisper.

“I’m aware.”

“Why?”

Wing shook his head again, his voice and movements softer. “If you knew how I treated them, you’d want me gone as well.”

You had suspected Wing had not been the best of caretakers to Red and his brother if Red wanted him gone that bad. When Red first showed you Wing’s fifteenth journal, Red had spoken as if Wing were gone, truly gone. He seemed confident then. It hadn’t occurred to you how much this arrangement was affecting him.

“I’ll talk to him,” you said. “In the morning.”

“Very well.”

“And I’ll start looking at living room sets. Maybe a bed so you can sleep in Gaster’s room.”

“Very much appreciated.”

-

In the morning, Red was nowhere to be found. Not in the bathroom, nor the basement or office- nothing! It was as if he disappeared.

Wing and Gaster, however, were seated peacefully at the dinner table, discussing something.

“Where is he?”

Wing offered a disinterested glance. “Who?”

“Who else?”

Wing shrugged. “Gone, I suppose. He woke up early in the morning and made me promise I’d behave.”

“How early?”

“Around three in the morning, sometime after we completed the puzzle.”

Your heart, your soul , began to hurt for some reason. “He didn’t tell you anything else?”

“No,” Wing said. “But he seemed frantic. Like something bad had happened.”

You went back upstairs for your phone and dialed his number, listening to each passing ring with dread. A million thoughts raced through your head. Was he hurt, was Cash hurt, or Black-

“Hey.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, a hand clutching the fabric over your chest. “Hey,” you said shakily. “Hey, are you okay? You were gone this morning and-”

“I’m okay. Just some stuff back home that I’m dealing with,” he said, sounding tired. “Did Wing do somethin’? Is that why you’re calling?”

“No, no, he’s good, he’s with Gaster right now.” You swallowed thickly. “I called because I was worried.”

“Huh?” Red cleared his throat. “Worried? About what?”

“You! You left in the middle of the night, Wing said you were frantic- I-”

“I’m fine,” Red said with a chuckle. “I thought you were givin’ me the silent treatment.”

“You-” you groaned. “Listen, I’m really sorry about getting so upset the other day. I know you didn’t mean to-”

“Stop,” Red interrupted. “You shouldn’t have to say sorry to me. I should be-” you heard a voice interrupt him, and Red groaned in annoyance. His voice was muffled when he said, “For fuck’s sake, can none of you deal with them? Fine, whatever, just give me a sec.” You heard Red sigh again. “Sorry, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright-”

Click .

You groaned, banging your phone against your dresser, but not hard enough to break it. “Jerk.”

You went downstairs to find Wing and Gaster still whispering amongst themselves, Wing writing down something in that notebook of his. He didn’t stop writing, not even as you approached and watched him write with the neatest penmanship you’d ever seen, though none of what he wrote seemed of any importance to you.

“Did Red tell you what happened,” Wing asked. “Because he didn’t tell me.”

“No,” you said, unable to hide your annoyance. “I wish he would. I think we’re on speaking terms now, but I don’t know if this is something he’ll tell me right away.”

“It must not be if he hasn’t said anything.”

You glared at nothing in particular then turned to Gaster. “Do you know anything? You can go see him, right?”

Gaster tilted his head. Yes, but maybe you should wait for him. When you huffed in annoyance, he smiled. I also wish you and him would make up. It’s not good for your soul.

Wing stopped writing and looked at you curiously. “What’s wrong with your soul?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You sipped at your coffee, eyes on his notebook. “If I leave you alone for a few hours, would you behave?”

Wing scoffed. “I am capable of being alone. Do you think I’d run off? Wreak havoc, perhaps?”

“I don’t exactly know you, Wing. For all I know you’re planning on using the machine downstairs to build a bomb.”

“I wouldn’t need that machine.”

“I want to go to the store,” you said, ignoring his response. “For a bean bag.”

Gaster jiggled beside you, the mass of ink moving closer. A bean bag? Truly?

You nodded. “And maybe some other things. I don’t like how empty your room is.”

“I still need a bed,” Wing reminded you. “A proper one.”

“I’ll make sure to look. It’ll have to go in your room, Gaster.”

Gaster seemed to sink into the floor. Fine. As long as I get the bean bag.

“Do you care about the color?”

Gaster shook his head. It needs to be big.

You nodded, but before you could say anything, your phone began to ring. You had hoped it was Red, and you failed to hide your disappointment when you read Toriel’s name on the screen. The disappointment was then replaced with worry, because Toriel never called you.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hello! I hope you’re enjoying your weekend so far, but I have a favor to ask of you,” she said, her voice sounding slightly nervous. “I’d never think of bothering you with something like this, but-”

“Toriel, I hope you know how many times you’ve allowed me to walk into your house unannounced. Whatever you need, I can help.”

“I need someone to watch the kids for me.”

Your mind blanked. “Oh. Oh! Of course, that’s fine. Did you want me to bring them over, or-”

“You can come here, if that’s alright with you.”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Do you mind if I take them to the store? I have to do some shopping for my place.”

“Not at all! It’s just-” she sighed, sounding just as tired as Red had sounded earlier. “There’s something I need to take care of, and my usual babysitter is busy at the moment.”

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

-

Chara and Frisk were seated quietly in your backseat.

It was a bit awkward at first after Toriel had given them a spiel of behaving and not giving you a hard time.

You saw Chara grab your attention from the backseat with a wave of their hand. “What do you need from the store?”

“Oh, just some things for-” you stopped yourself before you could say Gaster’s name, “the guest room.”

“Is your house that big?”

“I guess so. You guys also have guest rooms.”

“We’ve never been to your house before.”

“I know,” you said, wishing you could have them and Toriel and everyone else over one day. “I still have a lot of stuff to buy for it, though, but when I’m done, you guys should come and check it out.”

Frisk nodded excitedly, but you noticed Chara’s scrutinizing eyes. “Are you dating Cash and Red at the same time?”

You gripped the steering wheel, trying to hide your annoyance. “Even better, kid. I’m not dating any of them.”

“So then why is Red living with you now?”

“He isn’t living with me.” You paused. “It’s complicated.” 

“So un-complicate it.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Cash,” you muttered, noticing the way Frisk nodded in agreement. They signed something, and Chara translated expertly.

“Frisk is asking if you like any of them.”

“Like them? Well, we’re friends yeah.” You paused again. “What’s with the interrogation?”

After some more intrusive questions, you finally arrived at the store. Frisk and Chara followed you around, Chara doing most of the talking whenever you picked a piece of decoration and they didn’t approve. Eventually, when you reached the bean bags, Frisk and Chara were beaming.

Chara sat on a blue one, sinking into it. “What do you need a bean bag for?”

“The guest room. I want to make it… comfy.”

The biggest one they had was an olive green and would be big enough for Wing to sit down, so it should definitely be enough for Gaster. Frisk and Chara kept the massive thing balanced on the cart while you roamed the store. In the decor section, you struggled with picking what to put on the walls of Gaster’s room.

“What about these,” Chara said, holding up a framed picture of an enderman from Minecraft.

You hummed. “I mean… Sure, it matches.”

You planned on getting Wing a twin xl mattress, so you picked out some nice sheets and checked everything out. You and the kids fought the beanbag for about five minutes to try and stuff it in the trunk of your car.

Once you were back in the car, you were sweating. “So, what now? Are you guys hungry?”

Chara shook her head. “We had lunch before Mom left.”

“Alright,” you said. You were about to suggest heading back home to drop off the bean bag, but you didn’t want to leave them alone in the car. “Let me see. How about…”

“The arcade,” Chara said suddenly, almost jumping into the passenger seat. “Please? Blue always takes me but he’s busy.”

You froze. “Sure. Which one?” The arcade? Hopefully it wasn’t-

“The one at the mall.”

You cursed out loud. “Um, is there any other arcade we can go to,” you asked, pulling out your phone to look it up.

Frisk and Chara shook their heads vehemently, Chara adding, “the other ones have sucky prizes. And they use cards instead of tokens.”

Last time you were there, you had learned how to cheat on most of the games to get more tickets, which prompted the arcade owner to ask you to leave after issuing a ban. Maybe they wouldn’t recognize you? It was worth a shot. A hoodie would do the trick, yeah…

You sighed. “Mall arcade it is.”

Chapter Text

Red’s phone had gone off at three in the morning, the sound of his brother’s voice at first not at all alarming.

But when Edge told him he needed to go home that very instant, Red didn’t waste a second. He shot up off the air mattress and woke Wing up, threatening- asking him politely to be on his best behavior for you. 

His first thought was that someone was dust. Maybe Black and Mal fought again, or Blue snapped at someone, or- Red forced himself to calm down. He shortcut to the living room and inspected the air, a sigh of relief escaping when he noticed the lack of dust.

Someone was moving in the kitchen, though, and he found Papyrus and Edge conversing with one another.

“I DON’T WANT TO ASSUME THE WORST ABOUT YOUR BROTHER,” Edge was saying. “BUT THERE’S SOMETHING HE ISN’T TELLING US.”

Papyrus let out a deep sigh, something crinkling in his arms. “YES, I KNOW. BUT WHAT GOOD IS IT TO DOUBT HIM NOW? WHAT MORE CAN WE DO BUT FOLLOW ALONG?”

“ NOT FOLLOW ALONG. SABOTAGE THE MACHINE.”

“WELL, YOU’LL BE HAPPY TO KNOW IT’S COMPLETELY GONE,” Papyrus said sarcastically.

Red’s sockets widened, and he entered the kitchen. “What’d you say ‘bout the machine?”

Papyrus startled at his entrance, but Edge’s face broke into that of relief. “BROTHER, YOU’RE HOME.”

“WELCOME BACK,” Papyrus greeted with a smile, and Red noticed the piles of snacks in his arms. Cookies, chips, a variety of gummy snacks, and freshly popped popcorn. “YOU’VE MISSED QUITE A LOT.”

“What happened to the machine,” Red asked again.

“It exploded,” Stretch said from behind him. He moved to stand next to him, and Red smelled something on him. Something burnt, metallic, rusted. Stretch grinned. “Should’ve seen it.”

According to Stretch, he and Sans had been in the basement. Red wondered at first what they were doing there, but Stretch answered him with a roll of his eyes.

“We were just cleaning up a bit, Papyrus said it was untidy, or whatever.”

“NO I-”

Stretch interrupted him and continued, explaining that he had unplugged the machine to move it, and it powered on by itself.

“It started smoking up, like how it does when it’s about to pull someone through,” Stretch said. “But then it exploded.” He pointed at a deep vertical carving along his jawline. “The new Papyrus has a talent for healing magic.”

In the explosion, Stretch had gotten hurt. Red felt a pang of guilt, a rush of memories from every time Edge would return home with a new wound from his day of work flooding back.

“Are you okay?”

Stretch nodded. “I’m fine. Classic, too. We’re okay. But after the explosion…”

Blue had raced downstairs, knowing that Stretch had been down there. He had been the first to see them among the clearing smoke. The new Sans and Papyrus from yet another reality.

The new Sans had been coughing against the smoke, wielding a giant, bloody butcher knife. His clothes tattered and blood-stained, his left eye large and red, and a giant hole on the top of his skull. The new Papyrus was hunched over on the floor, huddled over something, but when Blue saw him stand to his full height, Stretch saw him falter. The new Papyrus was tall, taller than anyone in the house, and he looked frail and sickly, with yellowed bones and cracks along each one. His sockets look sunken, like he hadn’t slept properly in ages, and his teeth… geez, his teeth must have been hurting him. Each one looked to be a different size, and they were all jagged, broken, or crooked.

“YES, THEY LOOKED FAR WORSE FOR WEAR THAN ANY OF US,” Papyrus added. “BUT PLEASE DO BE NICE TO THEM. SO FAR, BLACK AND STRETCH HAVE BEEN ABLE TO CALM THEM DOWN, BUT THEY’RE QUITE…”

“THEY’RE CURRENTLY IN THE GAME ROOM,” Edge said. “WE’RE DELIVERING SNACKS. THEY HAVE THE APPETITE OF AN ARMY.”

Red gave his brother a look of concern. “I’ll take those,” he said, approaching him. “You got a shift later today, don’t you?”

Edge stood quiet for a moment then shook his head. “I’LL MANAGE. I DON’T THINK I’LL BE ABLE TO SLEEP REGARDLESS.”

“So, what do we know about them?”

“THEY-” Papyrus cleared his throat, trying to hide the uneasiness written on his face. He sounded strained when he continued, “WENT THROUGH A LOT. THEY DID WHAT THEY NEEDED TO DO TO SURVIVE.”

“YES,” Edge agreed. “WHICH IS WHY WE MUST GO AND DELIVER THE ENTIRE PANTRY TO THEM.”

Red blinked. “They’re hungry?”

Edge and Papyrus left to deliver the snacks, leaving Red alone with Stretch. Red turned to face Stretch, looking at the new scar on his face. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I said I was fine,” Stretch muttered, covering the scar. “Geez, every Sans is the same. First Blue, then Classic, and now you. Why’s that?”

“We’re just worried-”

“Why?”

“You’re a different version of my little brother,” Red said sternly. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice. “Sometimes I forget you and I aren’t actually-” It was complicated. Stretch was, in no way, related to him. He didn’t share a piece of Wing’s soul with him like Edge did. But in a way, Stretch was his little brother. Maybe not exactly, but at the end of the day, he was still Papyrus. “Whatever. Where’s Classic?”

“Upstairs. Trying to get information out of them.”

“I thought you guys already knew their backstory?”

Stretch shook his head. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because they don’t wanna talk about it,” Stretch said with slight annoyance in his voice. “But we found out something .”

“What?”

Stretch chuckled, then stopped abruptly. “Are you sure you wanna know?”

They ate humans.

The new Sans and Papyrus, other versions of him and his brother, ate fallen humans . To survive.

Red felt sick. Nauseous. Queasy.

“You’re lyin’.”

“I’m not. Ask the others.”

“We’re okay with this?”

“I mean-” Stretch laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. “It’s not like we can do anything about it. They’ve been pretty good about not eating humans here, as long as they have real food.”

“Did they not have real food in their reality?” Red meant to sound sarcastic.

But Stretch shook his head.

“So they ate humans.” Red sighed. “To survive. Fuck.”

“Uh huh.” When Red didn’t respond, Stretch continued. “Listen, you have to understand. They did what they needed to- it’s not like they-”

“I get it,” Red interrupted, and Stretch sighed in relief. “It’s just… fuck, it’s morbid. I don’t know.”

Red followed him up the stairs, but upon passing one of the bathrooms, he noticed Blue leaning over something. He stopped, telling Stretch he’d be there in a moment.

Red opened the door and stepped in. “Blue, what are you-”

Blue spun around at the sound of his voice, and Red finally took notice of the small figure seated on the toilet seat. It was a girl, small, thin, and frail-looking with a tattered gray dress. She was covered in cuts and bruises and Blue had apparently been tending to her wounds, judging by the first aid kit by his knees.

Upon seeing Red, the girl immediately drew away in a panic and nearly would have fallen off the toilet seat if Blue hadn’t grabbed her.

“HEY, HEY, IT’S OKAY,” Blue said, his tone soft and comforting. He released his grip, holding up his palms. “I KNOW HE LOOKS SCARY, BUT HE’S ABOUT AS HARMFUL AS A GUINEA PIG.” The girl watched him with bloodshot eyes.

“What the fuck happened,” Red whispered, his voice tense and the girl flinched at his tone.

Blue glared at him, standing to his full height. Blue was about a full inch taller than Red, and he never let him live it down. “OBVIOUSLY SOMETHING HAPPENED. I’M TRYING TO CALM HER DOWN AND YOU AREN’T HELPING RIGHT NOW, PAL .” When Red didn’t move, Blue added, “GO ASK CLASSIC.”

Red huffed in annoyance. He went to the game room and when he saw the source of the problem, only half of his questions were answered.

On one of the couches sat a skeleton who was another version of Sans, but he could easily be as tall as one of the Papyri. And the new Papyrus himself was easily now the tallest in the room. Papyrus, the one from this reality, had been right, though.

They looked terrible.

He spotted Classic, his sockets having gone wide.

“Hey,” he greeted. “I thought you were at-”

“Edge called me.”

Classic shot a glance at Edge. Had Sans planned on not telling him about this? Would he have never known if Edge hadn’t called him?

“Hey,” he said again, this time giving an awkward wave to the newcomer. He watched him like deer in headlights.

Red took a hold of Classic’s upper arm and tugged at him harshly. In a split second they had taken a shortcut to the basement. The scent of burnt metal and faded smoke still hung in the air, which Red recognized from when he first arrived. The difference was that this time the machine sat in a million shattered pieces, all of them scattered every which way or stuck along the wall or ceiling.

Red’s grip tightened. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“The machine exploded because it turned on by itself ?” Red lowered his voice. “You expect me to believe that?”

Classic’s sockets widened slightly, but then narrowed them accusingly. “You think I’d do it on purpose? Stretch got hurt-”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Red snapped. “Did you? Because we both agreed it was safer to stop using that thing until-”

“You ain’t listening,” Classic snapped, startling himself with the volume of his voice. He lowered his voice when he added, “Didn’t Stretch explain-”

“He did,” Red interrupted. “He said you and him were cleaning up. You expect me to believe that ? You promised you wouldn’t touch that thing,” he seethed, eyes blazing. “You made me lie to her and you fucking promised .”

“Red, I swear I didn’t touch it. I don’t know what happened or how it happened, but all I heard was an explosion and-”

“ Bullshit .”

“Alright, you win,” Classic said, his voice climbing to a shout. “Stretch and I found something worth trying and we thought it worked, but-”

“You were going to lie about this to me,” Red shouted after realizing.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“But you fucked up. Have you even figured out where they’re supposed to sleep,” Red asked, gesturing wildly to avoid grabbing Classic by the sweater and shaking some sense into him. “We picked this house with the intention that we’d only allow one more fuck up.”

“Well, yeah-”

“That was two brothers ago!”

“You can stay at her place for a little longer, can’t you,” Classic asked after a too long silence, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “She won’t mind, right? I can have Black and Rus stay with Tori for a little bit, along with the girl.”

Red dragged both his hands over his face, groaning into them. Upstairs it was silent, but he could only imagine how loud they must have been when everything went down. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, just now remembering the pajama pants he stole from Wing’s new wardrobe because he had been too occupied to come back and grab clean clothes. They were extremely loose.

“Is this what it’s gonna be like until you decide you’re done trying?”

It was enough to stun Classic into another bout of silence. He looked hurt, slightly confused.

“Well,” Red prompted. “When are you going to decide that enough is enough? What’s this place gonna look like in two months when you decide to go behind my back again and bring another twenty pairs of us?”

“You know why I don’t stop trying. How can I stop trying when he’s right there and I can’t even talk to him?”

“Are we talking about Gaster?”

“Who else would we be talking about,” Classic said in frustration. “It’s not fair. How come you can understand him perfectly fine and I can’t?”

It’s something that Classic and Red argued about constantly, but how were they supposed to know? They theorized and drew up conclusions just to sleep at night and pretend they knew the reason. Deep down, Red knew it was unfair. And the day Classic found out Red and Gaster were keeping things from him, it’d be one hell of a fucking argument.

Red blinked, forgetting that Classic was expecting a response. “I don’t know,” he breathed out. “Let’s just,” he sighed, feeling the anger dissipate. Classic was just some kid desperate to get his dad back. Red wished he felt the same about Wing. “I’ll ask her. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“Alright,” Classic said. “Thanks.”

“And what about the girl?”

“Toriel hasn’t picked up. We’re gonna have to wait until she does.”

They took separate shortcuts to the gameroom, but landed nearby, with Classic close to the newcomer Sans and Red closer to the pool table.

“WHAT DID SHE SAY TO YOU LEAVING AT SUCH A STRANGE TIME?”

Red startled at the sound of Black’s voice, his shoulders tensing. “Who are you talking about?”

“WHO ELSE WOULD I BE TALKING ABOUT?”

Red stared at him for a few seconds and looked away. To him, Black’s sockets were empty, and it was damn near nightmare fuel on stressful days like this. “That’s none of your business.”

”OH, COME ON,”. Black said with a teasing smile. “SHE WASN’T SUSPICIOUS AT ALL? SHE DIDN’T ASK YOU TO STAY FOR A LITTLE LONGER?”

Red’s face flooded with magic, the shade nearly matching his bright red t-shirt. “We don’t sleep together, you idiot,” Red grumbled.

Black hummed. “WHAT A SHAME.” 

“I didn’t wanna bother her for nothin’,” Red added.

“HOW GALLANT OF YOU.” Black leaned against the wall, watching the newcomer Sans, who was tearing his way through a packet of cookies, like a hawk. He nodded towards the newcomers, “THEY CAUSED QUITE THE RUCKUS.”

“Worse than you did?”

“YOU DIDN’T SEE WHAT HAPPENED, AND OBVIOUSLY NO ONE’S TOLD YOU,” Black shrugged. “OR ELSE YOU WOULDN’T BE LAUGHING.” He huffed. “THIS IS QUITE WORRISOME, THOUGH. A BRAND NEW SET OF COUSINS WE HAVE TO LIVE WITH. AND SOME OF US STILL HAVEN’T GOTTEN USED TO THE PREVIOUS ONES.”

“You’re the only one-”

“YES, WELL, REGARDLESS, IT’S GOING TO BE A DIFFICULT MONTH. ESPECIALLY WITH HER,” Black nodded toward the girl. “NEWCOMERS AREN’T SUCH A BIG DEAL, BUT A WHOLE HUMAN? IT’S GOING TO BE DIFFICULT TO EXPLAIN HER.” 

Red looked in the direction Black was focused on, noticing the girl from earlier standing timidly beside Blue, picking at her fingernails. Blue was trying his best to be welcoming,  whispering to her, scrolling through his phone. She would smile shyly and nod in response.

Red joined Classic’s side, eyeing the new Sans. This poor dude had to have been through hell and back.

Red nodded in greeting. “How’s it goin’?”

“More food,” he said, still chewing the cookies. “You guys… have more food?”

“Yeah, we do, but-” Red looked down, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of a giant bloody butcher knife resting against his leg, “-maybe slow down a bit. If you haven’t eaten in a while, eating too much-”

“Are you guys rationing,” the new Sans asked, his voice much deeper than Red’s and sounding much more damaged. “How much is left?”

“NOT MUCH IF YOU KEEP AT IT,” Mal snapped, plopping down carelessly beside the new Sans.

“We aren’t rationing,” Red said with a glare toward Mal. “And we could always go to the store and get more, but you’ll make yourself sick, dude.”

The newcomer was quiet for a moment, still reaching for another packet of cookies in Classic’s hands. “Paps,” he called out, and all at once, each Papyrus in the room turned to the sound of their name being said.

His brother replied, returning his attention to the pool table in front of him. “What Is It?”

“Eat something.”

“I’m Not Hungry.”

That must have been a lie. Even with his enormous stature, the new Papyrus looked frail and sickly, with yellowed bones and cracks along each one. And while the new Sans didn’t look too good either, he shrugged at his brother’s response and continued eating. Red was sure if it had been him, he wouldn’t have touched a spec of food until Edge had gotten his fill.

“Okay,” Red said with a sigh as he looked at Classic. “Have you explained everything to him?”

“No. I mean yes, but we’re all still… deciding.”

“Deciding what?”

“Where everyone is gonna sleep. And who’s responsible for looking after them.”

“He can take my room,” Red shrugged. “My side, at least.”

“That still leaves him,” Classic nodded toward the new Papyrus. “I thought maybe he could stay with Paps for now.”

Red narrowed his sockets. “And where the fuck is my brother supposed to sleep?”

“With the triplets.”

He meant Blue, Black, and Mal.

“WOULDN’T IT BE BETTER TO HAVE SOME OF US STAY AT TORIEL’S,” Black joined in. “PERHAPS ME AND RUS. OR MAL AND CASH, IF YOU’D PREFER SOMEONE WHO’S BEEN HERE LONGER TO LOOK AFTER THEM.”

“Look after us,” the new Sans repeated, his speech slow. “Like what? Like were kids? ‘cause we ain’t kids”

“No, but you guys are new,” Classic said, handing him the whole box of gummy fruit snacks. “And we all think it’s easier if you guys have someone looking after you guys to get used to this place. You know… get adjusted, and all that.”

Mal huffed. “I REFUSE-”

“NO ONE ASKED YOU,” Black interrupted. “IT DEPENDS ON WHO FITS THEIR REALITY THE CLOSEST.”

“And who does,” Red asked.

“We don’t know yet.”

“ISN’T IT OBVIOUS,” Mal said, giving each of them a look of incredulity. “HIM AND CLASSIC LOOK LIKE TWINS!”

“So do you and Black,” Red pointed out.

“YES, BUT THAT’S MY POINT PRECISELY.”

“LOOK AT YOU, MAKING SOME SENSE FOR ONCE,” Black said with a smirk.

Mal narrowed his sockets and stood, grumbling to himself as he joined Cash.

There was always shit to do when a new pair of brothers arrived. Documents to forge, stories to get straight, a new human to account for. And a bunch of other things he didn’t even want to start thinking about.

Red just hoped you and him would patch things up soon.

Chapter Text

The arcade was packed, which was normal on a Saturday afternoon.

You pulled the hood over your face a little more, hoping no one would take a closer look. While you waited in line, you ordered Wing a mattress, but you could barely focus. For a moment, you thought you were overreacting, but when you handed the cashier some cash in exchange for tokens, you noticed Frisk was pointing at something behind the cashier.

There on a corkscrew board was a picture of you when you were sixteen, hung up among the other delinquent children who were also forbidden from entering. You pushed Frisk’s hand down, giving them a subtle shake of the head.

The cashier gave you a cup of tokens and you split it evenly between the children, after keeping a few for yourself. 

Chara was partial to skee-ball, you noticed, while Frisk gravitated towards the shooting games that didn’t give you any tickets, but were still fun to play nonetheless. You, however, loved the pinball machines. It didn’t take long for them to catch your eye, a line of pinball machines against a wall, spotting the familiar Godzilla pinball machine amidst the others, which you had played endlessly as a child.

You approached them, but the sight of a man in a wrinkled T-shirt and baggy jeans stopped you. He walked over to the Godzilla pinball machine and smacked a white piece of paper on the glass. The pin attached to his shirt read “Charlie”.

You stopped him before he could leave as you inspected the paper. “Trash? What happened to it?”

The man shrugged, looking slightly interested. “I don’t know. Stopped working out of nowhere. My dad’s been trying to fix it for ages, but he gave up yesterday when it started-” he lowered his voice, throwing darting glances in different directions as if looking to see who was near them, “-moving.”

You furrowed your brows. “Moving?”

“You know,” he said in a whisper. “On its own. ”

“Oh,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips. “Like it’s haunted?”

He nodded. “I personally think it is.”

"When did this start happening?"

"It's always been pretty weird, but it only started moving last night."

“And it’s still in here,” you said, faking the slight panic in your voice. “What if it spreads to the other machines? Are ghosts contagious?” God, you wish Cash were here.

“Nah, don’t worry, it won’t be here for long,” he said dismissively. “My dad’s making me throw it out at the end of the day.”

“Where specifically,” you asked, adding with a shrug, “Out of curiosity.”

He explained that if you left through the south exit, you’d only have to walk down the sidewalk of the mall for a few hundred feet before you’d be in the area where all the mall’s trash is kept.

You’d have to come back later.

Frisk and Chara remained preoccupied for about two hours, and you only needed to dodge the owner a few times when he came out to greet a few of the regular parents. When the tokens ran out, they asked for a snack. You felt relief flood your bones when you finally had a chance to leave, but on your way out, Frisk bumped into Chara.

“Hello, Mr. Owner,” Chara said to the man, having stopped abruptly.

The man waved. “Hey, kid. I haven't seen Blue anywhere. Did he not come with you today?”

“He’s busy, but Red’s girlfriend is watching us,” Chara said with a smile. “She met Charlie already.”

You steadied Frisk just as you felt eyes on you, clearing your throat. “Come on, kiddos, we gotta-”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere,” the man asked, staring straight at you with a scrutinizing look.

The owner, Kevin, hadn’t changed a bit in about half a decade. Same handlebar mustache and tattooed sleeves that made him appear so intimidating. You were hoping you had at least changed enough for him not to notice.

“Nope, I’m from out of town,” you said with a polite smile. “Sorry, we really have to go.”

“Hold on, I think I do-”

“See ya!”

You grabbed Frisk and Chara’s hands, tugging them out and away towards the exit.

“I’m sorry for being rude, but I didn’t want him to recognize me,” you whispered to them as you walked out and away from the arcade. Then you stopped and faced Chara. “And Red’s girlfriend? Seriously? What happened to me being Cash’s girlfriend? And basic human decency?”

“You don’t live with Cash.”

You continued walking, letting go of their hands. “I’m not living with Red either. He’s living with me.”

“Is he a freeloader?” 

“No,” you said sharply. At this rate, Red was the one responsible for putting food in your fridge, keeping the cupboards stocked, and cleaning the house while you worked. Slowly, the house was becoming more lived in. You hadn’t even realized how thoughtful he was being. And this whole time you thought Red was giving you the silent treatment, but it had been you ignoring him.

Oh, you fucked up.

“Red isn’t freeloading, I asked him to stay,” you lied. “Now stop making me have to prove myself to- where’s Frisk?”

You looked around, hoping to see the familiar head of brown hair somewhere, but nothing stuck out. Your heart began to race.

“Okay, don’t panic,” you said to Chara, who was not panicking at all. You’ve dealt with lost kids before- your siblings, cousins, random kids, it happened! Nothing to panic about! “Let’s just ask around.”

“They probably just went looking for a pretzel,” Chara said with an eye-roll.

You held tightly onto Chara lest you lose another child. The first thing you did was tell a security guard, offering them a description of Frisk in hopes of finding them sooner. You asked anyone around if they’d seen a stoic looking kid with denim overalls and a striped shirt,  random strangers, employees at the stands in the middle of the mall, anyone who looked in your direction.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, feeling hopeless. “Okay, pretzel stand. Let’s go.”

There were three different pretzel stands, all in different places of the mall. You checked the nearest one first, Chara following obediently behind you, their wrist limp in your grip.

“I think you’d like Blue,” Chara said at one point, on your way to the second pretzel stand.

“Blue is a nice color,” you said distractedly.

“Not the color, dummy. Blue the skeleton. ”

“Chara, your sibling is lost in a really big mall,” you said, trying your best to remain calm and not snap at them. They’re probably freaking out internally. “Skeletons are the least of my concern right now.”

Chara groaned in annoyance, but continued walking anyway.

The second pretzel stand was also empty, but when you asked one of the workers if they’d seen a kid fitting Frisk's description, they had, and they pointed you in the direction they went.

Chara tugged their wrist to get your attention. “Their favorite pretzel stand is that way.”

You continued on. “Wait, you knew which one was their favorite and didn’t say?”

“You didn’t ask,” Chara said with a shrug.

The final pretzel stand was in sight, and in the distance you could see a kid that looked just like Frisk.

“Does that look like them,” you asked Chara.

“Yeah, I think-“ Chara gasped, sounding excited. “It’s Undyne!”

The closer you got to Frisk, you realized Chara had been right. Beside Frisk was a tall fish-like monster with scaly blue skin, one that looked like Alphys’s wife based on the security video you had shown Red a while ago. You’d never met her before.

Frisk noticed you and Chara and waved excitedly. You felt immediate relief upon seeing them safe and sound.

“You scared me half to death,” you said, kneeling slightly to take their shoulders. “Are you okay?” You inspected them closely, hoping not to see any injuries.

Frisk nodded and held up their pretzel.

“Yes, Chara told me,” you said before turning to Undyne. “Hey-“

“You’re Alphys’s assistant, aren’t you?”

It felt refreshing for someone to know you without somehow involving any of the skeletons. “Yeah, I am,” you said with a smile as you stood straight. You introduced yourself properly to her. “Thank you for finding Frisk, they just kinda-“

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” Undyne said with a dismissive wave. She ruffles Frisk’s hair as she says, “Toriel should’ve warned you! This kid has a habit of wandering off and getting lost.”

That would’ve been good to know.

“So they have you on babysitting duty?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I guess everyone’s busy doing something.”

“Tell me about it,” Undyne said with an eye-roll. “Every time this happens, it’s like they never plan anything! And then it’s up to us to help-“

Chara and Frisk shook their heads, causing Undyne to snap her jaw shut. At this point, you were smart enough to relate it to why Toriel and Red were both indisposed at the moment, but even the kids knew? You pretended not to notice them.

“Anyway,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “What are you guys up to?”

“We just left the arcade,” Chara said.

“Sounds crazy fun,” Undyne smiled, showing off her sharp, yellow teeth. “Without Blue, too? He’ll be so jealous.”

Chara nodded excitedly. “Yeah, I plan on telling him as soon as we get home.”

“And when is that,” Undyne asked.

It took you a moment to realize Undyne wasn’t expecting an answer from the kids, but from you . 

“Um,” you said. “I don’t know.”

Undyne gave you a questioning look. “Have you talked to Toriel?”

You shook your head. “Not since I picked them up. I think I’m supposed to go back to their house whenever I’m done and wait for Toriel to get back.”

“Then I’ll be seeing you little losers later,” Undyne said gleefully, ruffling their hair. She looked at you. “Nice meeting ya! Don’t let Frisk out of your sight!”

You felt embarrassment creep up your neck as Undyne walked away and you struggled to formulate a response. You were forced to stutter awkwardly and wave goodbye while the kids signed back and forth to each other.

After buying Chara a pretzel, you decided it was the perfect time to return to their home and wait for Toriel.

-

Frisk and Chara shared a room, one with simple furniture- a bunk bed, dresser, and shelves on the walls with stuffed animals and books.

Their game room held all the good stuff- toys Toriel bought them, presents from the skeletons, or weapons from Undyne.

“Toriel’s okay with you guys keeping that in here” you asked, pointing at the longsword leaning against a wall.

Chara shrugged. “As long as we don’t touch it. Undyne gave it to us in case there’s an intruder, since we can’t have royal guards follow us everywhere.”

You and Chara had clearly lived different lives. A bat would’ve been just fine, but you figured Undyne was just a big fan of swords.

“Why were you and Charlie talking,” Chara asked, snapping you back to reality.

You blinked. “Who?”

“Charlie,” Chara repeated in a stern voice, as if that would help. They rolled their eyes. “Mr. Owner’s son? You talked to him earlier, I saw you!”

“When I was by the pinball machines?”

They nodded.

“I was asking him about the pinball machine he was getting rid of.”

Frisk signed something, and you looked at Chara, waiting for them to translate.

“Why is your picture on their wall?”

“Oh, I-”

“Does it have to do with why you didn’t want Mr. Owner to recognize you?”

You stared silently at them. “What do I have to do to not answer any of those questions?”

Chara perked up. “There’s ice-cream in the-”

“Cups or cones?”

“Cups.”

You stood up and left them, confident they could keep themselves alive for just a few minutes. You doubted Toriel would leave that sword in there if she wasn’t okay with it.

You didn’t need to open the kitchen blinds or turn on the lights to see anything in the kitchen. As you grabbed ice-cream for both of them, your thoughts trailed to Red and what he could be up to.

Clearly it had been serious enough for him to leave Wing alone. At first, you worried it had something to do with his brother, but Red had mentioned everything was fine when you spoke to him, so what was there to worry about? Well, there was apologizing for one. You had tried earlier, but he shut you down. Still, you felt the apology was owed. You didn’t want to forgive and forget just to leave things unsaid.

Distracted, you walked back down the darkened hallway back to the kids, only to feel something hard collide against you. You let out a yelp of surprise, the cups flying backwards as you and the culprit fell to the floor, your back hitting the solid ground. 

“ FUCK! ”

Your face grew warm with embarrassment at the sound of the voice. “Black?”

You were blinded by the brightness of his eyes, and he scrambled to get off of you. When you could see him properly, you noticed he was offering you a hand.  “YOU AGAIN? WE HAVE TO STOP MEETING LIKE THIS.”

“You came out of nowhere,” you said.

"MY APOLOGIES. ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

You couldn’t fight the small smile betraying the pain in your back as you took his hand. “I'm okay. What are you doing here?”

“I SHOULD BE ASKING YOU THE SAME THING,” he said. He moved down the hall a few feet and knelt down to pick up the cups of ice-cream. Some of the ice-cream had spilled and melted on the floor, and the spoons had somehow made it down the hall back toward the kitchen.

“I’m babysitting.”

“HOW UNFORTUNATE,” he said with a teasing smile, holding the cups delicately between sharp fingers to avoid the mess. “THOSE TWO ARE UNBEARABLE.”

“No we aren’t!”

“UNBEARABLE, EAVESDROPPING, CONNIVING-”

Chara came out of their play room and noticed the mess on the floor. “Clumsy, hard-headed, reckless-” 

“Alright, stop that,” you interrupted. “Both of you. Honestly, you guys should know better.”

“He spilled our ice-cream.”

“I will get you some more.”

Chara harrumphed and went back inside. You walked down the hallway to pick up spoons and walked into the kitchen, Black close behind. He placed the cups in the sink and rinsed his hands. You were about to reach for one of the cleaning rags, but Black stopped you.

“TAKE THEM SOMEWHERE.”

You looked at him. “WHAT?”

He dried his hands then pulled something out of his back pocket, pulled something else out and handed it to you. You took it and examined it.

You looked at him blankly. “This is a one-hundred dollar bill.”

“I’M WELL AWARE.”

“This is real?”

“YES, IT IS.”

“You walk around Ebott City with hundreds in your back pocket?”

“TAKE THEM TO GET SOMETHING,” he said, his voice slightly stern.

“I don’t think a one-hundred dollar bill would be-”

“MUFFET’S WOULD MAKE YOU THINK OTHERWISE,” he interrupted. You outstretched your hand to return the bill, but he pushed it back. “NO, I’M SERIOUS. I NEED THE HOUSE EMPTY FOR A FEW HOURS.”

“Are you planning a surprise party?”

“I WISH. I’LL BE DOING MANUAL LABOR.”

“So-”

“CAN YOU KEEP THEM AWAY FOR A FEW HOURS,” he asked.

You tilted your head. “Toriel knows you’re here?”

“OF COURSE.”

“Fine.” You clapped your hands together. “To Muffets we go. Do you want anything?”

He shot you that winning smile. “ANYTHING SWEET.”

And off to Muffets you went.

Chapter Text

Muffet’s Bakery was always a treat to visit. Last time you were here, it was to buy something to eat while you trespassed the factory.

Cash ended up eating most of your purchase that night.

Chara peered at the glass cases with the pretty pastries. “Can we pick anything?”

“Can you guys do math?”

Frisk and Chara nodded.

“Black gave us one hundred dollars,” you said, patting your pocket. “Just make sure there’s enough to get him something, too.”

And with that, you let them continue their inspection of the goods. You waited a few feet behind them, a message coming through just as you pulled out your phone.

$$$: Black said he bumped into you

Me: I think it was his fault this time

$$$: This time?

Had Black not told him? You figured it would have somehow been mentioned to Rus, who would then mention it to Cash, that you had run over Black with a shopping cart and ruined his nice shirt with a dozen eggs.

Me: What’s everybody busy with?

$$$: Who said I was busy?

Me: Lucky guess

$$$: I’m on babysitting duty with Blue

You blinked in confusion. Babysitting who?

Me: How’s that going?

$$$: It’s boring

You and him texted back and forth for a little bit up until the kids were ready to order. They wanted half a dozen of the extravagant donuts, which, you reminded them, they would not be able to have all at once because of how much sugar they had. You didn’t want to indulge them too much and give them back to Toriel with a sugar high.

“Hello, little children,” said a high-pitched, wispy voice. You looked up and noticed Muffet, the spider monster, leaning against the counter. She rested her chin on two of her palms, her other hands on her hips. “I see Miss Toriel is not here.” She tilted her head. “And not a single skeleton!”

“Babysitting,” you said with an awkward smile.

Muffet looked at you with every eye on her face. “I remember you. You’re scared of spiders, aren’t you?”

Your awkward smile morphed into one of worry. “No,” you lied.

It’s not that you were scared of them, no, because if you were you would’ve never stepped foot into Muffet’s. That didn’t mean you were one-hundred percent okay with spiders, either. They were harmless most of the time, but you weren’t an expert who had the time to determine each spider’s danger level. You avoided them when necessary. Unfortunately, today was not one of those days. 

Muffet laughed, a high pitched, snobbish laugh. “I can tell. What will it be?”

Chara took the lead with listing off each donut they wanted, followed by some pastry that looked intricate enough to be featured in an art gallery. According to Chara, Black had a major sweet tooth, so the fanciest one would do perfectly.

“Is that all,” Muffet asked.

You had enough for something else, so you got two more pastries for later. Muffet gave you the change, and the kids left the bakery with the box in their hands, energetic despite not having had their treat yet.

Muffet’s Bakery was located in an outlet mall that was almost always buzzing with customers, and today was no different. Despite the crowd, you didn’t struggle to find a place to sit. Black did say a few hours, so you’d have to find something else to do to entertain the kids.

Taking them back to your house was out of the question, of course, so, while they ate, you considered your options.

In truth, there were a limited number of options that you could do for free.

“Do you guys like parks,” you asked, handing them each a napkin.

Chara opened the box and picked out a chocolate donut with purple icing. “Yeah, when they’re empty.”

You frowned. Before another word could be said, you felt a chill on your arm. You turned your head slightly, hiding your shock when Gaster materialized close enough to touch without having to lean too much.

How nice.

“We could walk around the stores,” you offered, taking out your phone. “While I speak to my friend who is calling me.”

You ignored the weird looks as you tapped the screen and pretended to accept a call. “What’s going on?”

Who are you speaking to?

“Connect the dots, genius.”

I see. He moved like he was skating on ice, positioning himself on your other side. Nothing much. Wing is poor company when he’s asleep.

“You’re supposed to be… hanging out with him, aren’t you?” You furrowed your brows.

Yes, but he’s asleep. Gaster sighed, the eerie sound making you shiver. If I truly know myself, I suppose I could take over the world in my sleep-

“ That’s not funny-“ you almost slipped up and said his name. “Are you sure he’s fine?”

Positive. I was just checking in on you. You’ve been walking on eggshells around Red.

You sighed deeply, enough for Frisk to look over at you in concern.

“You already know why.”

He’s been doing the same. I’m glad you two spoke this morning. His body froze, and he stood so still it looked as if someone had pressed pause on him. I can tell you want to ask about what’s going on.

“No, I don’t.” Liar.

You’re not curious? Not even a little? That doesn’t sound like you.

Chara and Frisk remained occupied with their treats, Frisk signing through powdered-sugar coated fingers. You wondered what they were saying.

You could ask Red.

Was he trying to instigate a fight? No, Gaster didn’t like it when you were upset. But who’s to say this wouldn’t end in a fight? Somehow, it always did.

You swallowed, your voice sounding snippy when you said, “If he wants to tell me, he’ll tell me.”

Gaster looked taken aback. Of course. I didn’t mean to upset you .

“I’m not upset.” You sounded upset. That was different. “Go home. I’ll see you later.”

He stuck around for a few seconds, even after you pretended to hang up and ignored his lingering stare, but even ghosts got bored, and so he left. In the past few days, you and Gaster had seen less and less of each other. What used to be a comforting presence became a reminder that there were secrets being held together by twine, and it took only a small tug for everything to come pouring out.

-

Wing loved rummaging through your bookshelves. Each book contained something, whether it be a receipt, giftcard, report cards for people he didn’t know, past exam papers, papers with peculiar notes.

It was like a treasure trove of secrets he was trespassing on.

Earlier, a knock on the door had startled him, but after waiting for a few seconds and looking out the window, he saw that it was a delivery man with a big box. He had opened the door hesitantly, but the man just shoved a clipboard at him, pointed where to sign, and left. Wing had inspected the box, then brought it in. It was a mattress. When had you ordered that? After leaving it in Gaster's room, he returned to the bookshelves.

On one shelf was a notebook with a sticker of some weird creature on the cover. He opened it, wondering what would fall out, only to be met with a sketch of a machine he’d designed many years ago.

He slapped the notebook shut, looked either way, and opened it again. Wing looked closer, drinking in every detail. It was well replicated, he could give them that. The lines of the schematic were drawn expertly, but the notes themselves were scattered around the page and handwriting that was legible enough.

“Insanity,” he muttered, flipping through each page, recognizing each and every word. Sure, maybe it was less organized than his work, but it was the same work nonetheless. There were even a few sticky notes that had clarifications of what was being done.

He continued looking, this time for more clues about you than the CORE prototypes you had been studying.

It was clear you learned his language for the sake of deciphering the original journal and rewrote- no, translated every drawing, absentminded thought, and idea. Because none of these ideas were yours, at least not beyond the third-quarter mark of the notebook, where you began writing your own notes in a different color.

Now you were working with Alphys, and as Gaster had told him, had been previously attempting to rebuild the CORE prototype for fun.

This was unlike any dedication Wing had seen before, far different than the dedication he had for his king or his work. What he did was different, it was his duty. The King needed soldiers, not just violent citizens who signed up for the royal guard, and Wing was the only one he could turn to for this request.

No, Wing didn’t create life for fun. He did it to fulfill the King’s wishes. Then they had to suffer for his actions.

Of course, that didn’t excuse him either.

“What are you doing?”

Wing snapped the notebook closed but didn’t move, only barely registering the sound of Red’s voice. “Oh, you’re home.” He placed the notebook back on the shelf. “She went out a while ago.”

“Don’t-”

“Don’t touch her stuff,” Wing repeated, turning to face him. He wanted to be more menacing, and he was sure Red was at least a little frightened of him. But the silly clothes you bought him didn’t help. He looked stupid with these pajama clothes printed with cartoon characters. “I know. I was just looking.” He waited for Red to say something, but when he didn’t he continued. “She’s quite curious. Have you ever taught yourself to read a foreign language?”

“Where is she?”

“Watching the Queen’s children.”

Red crossed his arms, then looked around, as if listening for anything. He couldn’t see or feel Gaster anywhere.

“What,” Wing snapped. “I’m not lying.”

“I didn’t even say anything.” Red made a clicking sound with his teeth as he pulled out his phone and began to text her. “There’s an issue. She can’t stay with Toriel.”

“What are you talking about? She just-”

“Not her, you idiot. Aliza .”

Wing blinked. He frowned, raising his voice. “Are you upset because I’m not a mind reader? Who’s Aliza?”

“The girl who-” Red paused in his words, moving down the hall and into the office space. “He did it again. Sans- Classic brought another pair of us in. And they’re terrifying.” Wing followed him. “They used to eat humans to survive, like, set up traps and stuff.”

Wing grimaced. “I never imagined humans to be particularly nutritious. They must have been starving.”

“They were,” Red said, sitting down and staring ahead. “I never get used to it.”

Red was being strangely vulnerable. Wing knew exactly what he meant.

“Meeting other versions of yourself?”

Red nodded. “It’s weird. Other versions of me who don’t think the same way I do? But also do? They look like me, but also don’t. They are me, but aren’t-” he paused, noticing the weird look Wing was giving him. “What?”

Wing shook his head. “Keep going.”

Red snapped out of it. “Why am I talking about my feelings to you?” He sat up straighter. “The point is, the new Sans says their Toriel was really unhinged after everything went down. And the girl who came with them, Aliza, refused to talk with our Toriel when she walked in. She had a panic attack and couldn’t calm down until Blue took her out-”

Wing tensed. “He killed her-”

“-to the kitchen.”

“Oh.” Wing leaned against the doorframe. “So? What does this have to do with you?”

“A lot. If she can’t stay with Toriel, then she’ll have to stay with the guys, which I don’t think is good for her.”

“Why not? You took care of Papyrus for most of-”

“Papyrus is a skeleton monster, Aliza is a human girl . Different needs, Wing.”

“So what other genius ideas have yo come up with?”

Red furrowed his brow bone, scratching at his arm. “I can only think of asking her for help, but how would I get Sans to agree? Or her.”

“You’re actually worried about this kid?”

“It’s not that,” Red said with a shake of his head. “Not that it’s not concerning. But if people start hearing there’s a human kid staying with a bunch of monster guys, it’s bound to get a few people wondering why. It’s why Frisk and Chara live with Toriel.”

“Who cares-”

“Believe me, a lot of people would care.”

“Very well.” Wing hummed. “How about Alphys and Undyne?”

“Out of the question,” Red said immediately. “Can’t have them around the new Sans. Frisk either, for that matter.” He sighed deeply, and Wing could feel the weight on Red’s shoulders just by looking. “This is just a big ass mess that Classic knew he couldn’t afford to make.”

“Well, it’s happened already,” Wing said with a shrug. “What was the final decision?”

“She stays with them until we can find a better solution.” Red leaned back. “Surrendering her to the state is also out of the question.”

Wing laughed. “Who thought of that?”

Red shook his head to dismiss the thought. Rus had said it jokingly, when Aliza first arrived and ideas were flying out, which earned him a prompt smack on the head from his older brother. That wasn’t even a thing in the Underground, it was just called abandonment.

“Keeping her here must be out of the question as well,” Wing said with a shrug. “For obvious reasons.”

“I thought so, too.”

Wing waited for him to finish. “But-”

“But,” Red continued. “She can’t stay there forever.”

Wing smirked. “How many more strangers will you bring into her home in hopes of creating a makeshift family with-”

“Zip it,” Red snapped, fighting off the blush on his face as he left the office. “It’s about what’s best for the kid, and if what’s best for the kid is you getting locked up in a basement, then so be it!”

“She’ll never agree,” Wing snapped back, following him down the steps. “Locking me up in a basement is inhumane treatment.”

“Her basement isn’t even that bad.”

“But if the child stays, then I have to stay down there all the time,” Wing complained. “It’s called solitary confinement and it’s not fun.” He was hot on Red’s heels.

“Yes, I know,” Red snapped, stopping at the kitchen to face him. His red eyes blazed.

“How would you-” Wing stopped himself. He cleared his throat. No memories flooded back to him in realization, but if Red was reacting that way, it was for a reason. “Right. Well.” he cleared his throat again, wishing Red would turn back around and walk away. “Regardless, we both know the possibility of that working is close to zero. If the child were to see me-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Red said, turning around. He walked over to the fridge and opened it. “I’ll talk about it with her.”

“Very well.”

Wing watched from the door frame as Red took out a can of soda, closed the fridge, and took a shortcut to who knows where.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Chapter Text

Red had texted you while you were talking with Gaster, asking of your whereabouts and if you were doing okay with the kids. You assured him you were fine, despite the scare Frisk had given you earlier. Before you could ask if he was going to stay the night with the other skeletons, a call came through from him.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey.”

When he remained silent for a few seconds, you said, “Red? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he said immediately. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Are you busy?”

“Not really. Did you need something?”

“Well, yeah, but it can wait. Are you going to be free later?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“For real? No night trips to any weird location?”

“Okay, maybe one,” you said with a sigh, recalling the arcade machine. “I might actually need your help with it.”

“It? What are you doing?”

You returned to the mall with the arcade once the sun had set and the children were safe and sound with Toriel, who was way more apologetic about Frisk wandering off than you were about losing them.

It was pitch black and the only cars that remained were those who had the night shift and the passing security vehicles. You parked your car as close as you could to the back area with the garbage, keeping track of any passing security who might wonder what you’re doing.

You entered the area with a flashlight, shining it over the dumpsters, wooden pallets, and every other discarded item the mall’s vendors didn’t need. Then you shined it over the lamps along the wall that should be providing light but aren’t.

“Hey, what are-”

You choked back a gasp as you spun on your heels, your heart beating fast. When you turned, you came face to face with blazing red eyes. “You scared the shit out of me,” you whispered angrily, shoving Red’s chest lightly. When he started to laugh,  you furrowed your brows. “Alright, shut up before we get caught.”

“What are we even doing here,” he asked, squinting his eyes in the darkness. You wondered if the light of his eyes helped him see better or if he struggled just as much as you. “And I was joking when I asked, by the way.”

“You still showed up.” You started walking, this time keeping an eye out for the pinball machine. “Look for a pinball machine with Godzilla on it.”

Red stopped in his tracks. “A Godzilla pinball machine?”

You nodded, mumbling to yourself, “He was getting rid of it, anyway.”

“I could’ve just shortcut it to your place.”

It was your turn to stop in your tracks, side-eyeing him. “Maybe I wanted us to hang out.”

“ I could’ve just shortcut to your place,” he said, chuckling. You turned to him and clicked off your flashlight, your brows upturned. His playful expression changed to that of worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you still mad at me?” When his sockets widened, you waved your hands. “Wait, don’t answer that. You’re not mad at me, I know. I thought you were, and I kind of still think you are, but I-”

Red held up his palms as if in surrender, the black gloves dark against the night. You could barely make them out in the moonlight. “I’m not mad at you. And If you’re going to apologize, I already told you not to.”

“You said I shouldn’t have to,” you corrected. “But I do. I freaked out on you, and I yelled at you-”

Red grabbed you by your shoulders and shook you lightly. “Stop that. You were worried.” He loosened his grip and shrugged. “My brother reacts the same when he’s worried.”

You stared up at him, worried he wasn’t telling the truth. You wanted to believe everything was okay, but-

“Trust me on this,” he said, interrupting your train of thought. “We’re cool.”

You felt your bottom lip start to quiver.

“What’s with that look,” Red said, his voice sounding panicked. He let go of you. “Is it because I checked you?”

You shook your head, resting your forehead on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his ribs. “I didn’t even realize it this time,” you lied, your voice muffled through his sweater. It took a few seconds for Red to relax, for him to wrap his arms around yours and rest his jaw along the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, pulling away. “Fuck, that was embarrassing.”

“It’s embarrassing to hug me,” Red asked with a deadpan stare.

“I didn’t say that,” you scoffed as he chuckled. “Forget it. Let’s just look for the-”

“WHO’S THERE?”

You and Red froze like deer in headlights, Red’s hands going for your arms immediately. You turned to the source of the voice, and spotted a security guard shining a flashlight at you and Red.

“RED?” The flashlight clicked off.

Red visibly relaxed, his hands dropping yours as he sighed in relief. “Holy shit. Edge, I thought you weren’t working here tonight?”

“LUCY ASKED ME TO COVER HER SHIFT,” Edge replied, walking over to you and Red. “MAY I ASK WHAT YOU TWO ARE DOING? I BELIEVE THIS IS CALLED TRESPASSING.”

“We’re just here for some pinball machine she wanted,” Red said, gesturing to you with a nod.

“IS THAT ALL?” Edge looked at you. His eye lights were much smaller and a slightly deeper shade of red than Red’s, but his sockets were sharper, and so were his teeth. And he was tall, probably about Cash’s height. His whole vibe was just intense.`

Red stepped closer, nudging you with his shoulder. “This is my friend I was telling you about.”

You waved hello at him, offering your name in greeting. “I’m sorry for trespassing.”

Edge looked behind him, and shrugged. “I SUPPOSE I CAN ALLOW IT. JUST THIS ONCE.”

It took the three of you only five minutes to find the pinball machine. There it stood in all its glory, hidden among flattened boxes and trash bags that were leaking some strange liquid.

Edge shined the light over the arcade machine and tilted his head. “WHAT’S SPECIAL ABOUT THIS ONE?”

“It was my favorite as a kid,” you said, ripping off the makeshift sign and tossing it into one of the dumpsters. “I’m gonna try and fix it.”

“YOU LIKE TO FIX THINGS? I CAN SEE WHY YOU TWO GET ALONG.”

You turned to look at Red as he said, “Alright, I got this.”

You watched in awe as one of Red’s sockets became empty, the other engulfed in red magic. He raised his hand, almost lazily, and the pinball machine became enveloped in a similar shade of magic.

“Where do you want this,” Red asked.

“In the open space upstairs.” You added, “please and thank you” as the machine began to float.

You would never get used to seeing Red shortcut, and you began to wonder how he was able to move objects with him as well.

You felt Edge’s heavy gaze on you, and you looked up to catch him staring. Only, he didn’t look away. You were reminded of Stretch and what he asked you to tell Red. You looked away.

“I’m sorry if Red’s been spending too much time with me.” You heard Edge finally look away, his jaw audibly clenching. “I know you two are close.”

Edge sighed through his nose. “I WAS A BIT JEALOUS OF YOU AT FIRST.” He shook his head lightly. “BUT BLACK HAS A POINT. I HAVEN’T SEEN RED THIS EXCITED TO LEAVE THE HOUSE IN AGES. IT’S NICE.”

You wanted desperately to say, “You’re always welcome at my place! Come over for dinner, or to hang out, it’ll be fun!” For obvious reasons, you could not.

Red returned before you could add anything else, and when he saw you two standing there, staring straight ahead, he furrowed his brow bone. “You guys okay?”

Edge nodded. “OF COURSE. NOW GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I HAVE TO LIE TO MY SUPERVISOR AGAIN.”

“Fine, fine,” Red said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Thanks, bro, I owe you one.”

“BIG TIME.” Edge turned around to leave.

“Thank you,” you said before he went too far. Edge stopped and partly turned around. “Uh, I owe you one, too. For not, um, snitching on me- us.”

“NO, IT’S MY PLEASURE TO ASSIST,” Edge said, then turned to Red with a small smile. “YOU SHOULD REALLY INTRODUCE YOUR GIRLFRIEND TO THE REST OF THE FAMILY.”

And with that he was gone.

You turned to Red slowly, your eyes wide as you tried to hide your teasing smile. “What did he say?”

“What?” Red asked, glancing briefly. “I didn’t hear anything.” His blush said otherwise. Red began to walk away, and you were forced to follow.

“He called me your girlfriend. Do they actually think that?”

He spotted your car in the distance and made a beeline toward it. “He said it to embarrass me.” He ripped off his right glove and started rubbing at his cheek, but with bone against bone, it sounded more like scraping.

“You’d be embarrassed to date me,” you asked, mirroring his earlier words as you searched for your car keys.

Red kept his right hand over one cheek, then turned to look at you. “What,” he whispered. “No, I wouldn’t!” He began to stutter. “Not that I’d date you-” his hand flew to his mouth. “Wait, wait-”

Red was cut off by your laughter. You continued walking to your car, unlocked it and climbed in. Red sat in the passenger seat, his brow bones downturned.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a smile. “It was funny.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Was.”

“ Wasn’t .”

“Edge is funny.”

“Not. He’s grounded when I get home.”

Before you drove off, you looked at Red and asked, “Why did you grab me when he found us?”

Red leaned away at first, his expression contemplative. “I did?”

You nodded. “You grabbed my arms.”

“Oh,” Red said as he put on his seatbelt. “I didn’t realize. Habit, I guess.”

You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “How is that-”

“I was sort of expecting us to need a quick getaway.” He leaned his elbow against the armrest and rested his chin on his palm. “Risk a shortcut, if I needed to.”

You hadn’t expected that. He didn’t even answer how it was a habit, just what his plan was.

The drive back to your house was quiet at first. At an intersection where you were waiting for the light to turn green, Red decided to break the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About what I did.”

“What specifically?”

“About Wing. Bringing him here.”

“Red, it’s fine,” you said with a sigh, trying your best to sound reassuring, but Red shook his head.

“I’ve been acting like a hypocrite.”

The light turned green and you stepped on the gas pedal.

“Why do you say that?”

“I was trying to justify what I did, even though I knew it’d upset you,” he started. “And Sans did the same thing.”

You gasped sarcastically. “He also brought someone else from some otherworldly place?”

Red gave you a deadpan stare. “Otherworldly?”

“A weird place?”

“You make it sound like I’m bringing in strays from the street.”

“I wouldn’t classify Wing as a stray.”

“I would, but that’s besides the point,” Red said with a shake of his head. “We have another pair of brothers to worry about.”

Silence.

You had no idea what to say.

“Do you guys get along?”

You felt the warm glow of his eyes on you. “I mean, I guess they’re alright, but-“ he made a sound with his teeth. “Never mind. At this point, you know all of us aren’t from here right?”

You nodded.

“That includes Chara.”

You furrowed your brows. “I didn’t know that.”

“We’ll, now you know. It’s possible to bring in another human with them.”

“That’s what happened?”

“Yes.”

“A human kid came in with them?”

“Her name is Aliza.”

“How does Toriel feel about it?”

“Devastated,” Red said with a shrug, and with a brief glance you could see he was nervous. “But because Aliza doesn’t wanna stay with her.”

“What? Why not?”

“The Toriel she knew wasn’t…” Red paused then sighed deeply. “I don’t know. Right in the head? She was crazy, I guess.”

“What, why? How?”

Red shook his head lightly.

You stopped at another red light and turned to look at him. “Was it that bad?”

He nodded.

“Okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

Another bout of silence. He was still quiet by the time you reached your front door and unlocked it, but before you could swing the door open, he seized your wrist.

“I have to ask you something.”

“Is it about Aliza?”

“Yes.”

“Because I was wondering who she’d stay with if she didn’t want to stay with Toriel.”

“Here’s the thing-“ when Red was sure you wouldn’t interrupt, he continued. “Having her stay with Alphys and Undyne is also out of the question.”

“Surrendering to the state-“

“Out of the question,” Red snapped immediately.

“Well no shit,” you said as Red’s hand slipped from your wrist and fell to his side. “So then what? Do you guys have any friends who could take her in?”

Red was staring at the floor. He scraped the floorboards with his shoe.

“Red?”

He looked at you, sockets wide.

The realization hit you.

“Sans would never agree,” you whispered. “And we can’t either! Wing lives here. What are we supposed to do? Lock him in the basement?”

“The basement isn’t that bad.”

“It’s risky.”

“She-“

“Listen, I know it’s probably freaking you guys out that you can’t find a place for her to stay, but unless Sans is aware of Wing being here-“

“What if Wing didn’t live here?”

“I said no sci-fi shit in my house.”

“I’m not sending him back,” Red said with a roll of his eyes. “I mean we lie-“

“Lie to Sans for the hundredth time.”

“I know it sounds bad.”

“Red, this is serious.” Your stare was hard. “We both know you hate keeping secrets from him. But this is a human kid we’re talking about. And-”

“That’s exactly why she can’t stay with them! You think those dummies know anything about raising a human kid? Blue tried to feed Chara a bottle of vinegar because he didn’t know what they ate.”

“Hasn’t Blue been here for a while? You seriously think he would still react that way?”

“No, he’s actually the one taking care of her right now, but-“

“I get what you’re saying. Aliza needs someone like her. I get it-”

“-that’s besides the point.”

“But we can’t, Red. Not until everything else gets sorted out.” He looked defeated, and you wished you could help. “I just don’t want this to lead to a bigger problem, Red. Sans already has enough suspicions about the both of us.” You reached out to grab the door handle, but stopped. “And what makes you think I’m capable of raising a kid?”

“I think you are.” Red nodded slowly after you didn’t say anything. “But you’re right. Between work and everything else, a kid is probably the last thing you wanna deal with.”

You reached over to open the door once again, but stopped yourself. “Red, I’m-”

The door swung open, and Wing stood there. “Welcome home,” he greeted, moving aside to let you in. “Has Red told you he wants to raise a child with you?”

Apparently, you and Red had had enough of the jokes for the night.

“Just so you know, I was more against Sans finding out than you staying in the basement,” you said to Wing as you went upstairs, right as Red said, “would you shut the fuck up? Why would you say that?”

Wing began to follow you up. “Yikes, did you guys fight again?”

You stopped momentarily. “What? No, Wing, we're just tired.”

“I’m just saying-”

“Wing, leave her alone!”

“Both of you, shut it,” you shouted. Wing and Red stopped, glancing briefly at each other before their eyes landed on you. You sighed through your nose. “Red, can we talk?”

Red mumbled “sure” and began to walk up the stairs, pushing past Wing. You went into your room and closed the door behind him.

“Did I piss you off,” he asked immediately. 

“What? No,” you said, turning to look at him. “Are you okay? I feel like all those jokes get to you.”

“What jokes?”

“The ones they make about us.”

You would also never get used to seeing Red blush, but you’d never admit it was a welcome sight.

“They don’t bother me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. You figured he didn’t want Wing to hear. “Does it bother you ?”

You shook your head. “Not really.” You sat down on your bed and patted the spot next to you. “What about the other stuff?”

He sat down, but on the opposite end of the bed. “Other stuff?”

“About what Sans did,” you clarified. “You said it upset you. I didn’t ask earlier.”

“Oh.” He sighed, then removed his gloves. “Yeah, it did. But he… he didn’t mean to. I mean, he did, but-” he grinded his teeth, dragging one hand over his face. “He said he and Stretch thought they found something worth trying. And they tried it, and it didn’t work, and now-” he sighed again. “I yelled at him, too. I was pissed. Stretch got hurt. So did Mal and Edge, apparently.”

“What?”

Red began to tell you about what happened, according to Edge and Mal, the details Stretch had left out. Apparently, after Blue had initially gone to the basement to check on Classic and Stretch, he freaked out when he saw them. He thought they’d been pulled from some reality where everyone was a zombie, so he grabbed Stretch and Classic and shortcut out of the basement. Mal and Edge had gone down there without knowing Blue had taken the others out and saw the new brothers. A fight broke out, as one usually did, which led to Edge taking the brunt of the damage while Mal got away with a minor injury.

“And he still went to work,” you asked in shock.

Red looked angry when he said, “Maybe he lied to me. He’s got two jobs, but he said he wasn’t working tonight. But it’s fine, I guess. The new Papyrus is a really good healer.”

You felt bad for being so upset with Red earlier. There you were, worried about just two anomalies, when he was managing more than enough for a baseball team. You thought back to when you met him, and how Sans had practically forced him to befriend you in return for not testing the machine.

“I’m sorry, Red.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything.”

“I’ve been ungrateful.”

Red scooted closer. “That ain’t true.”

“The kids asked me if you were a freeloader earlier today.” You looked down at your hands, at the lack of gloves. You hadn’t worn them since yesterday. “I got weirdly defensive about it.”

Red looked taken aback. “Why?”

“Because you’re not. You helped out a lot. Even when I’m mad at you, or when I’m ignoring you. And I didn’t realize that.”

“What’s got you all teary-eyed today,” Red asked, brow bone turned up in worry as he scooted closer.

He reached out a hand, but he pulled back at the last second. You hadn’t realized you were on the verge of tears when you turned to look at Red, and you couldn’t even place the reason why. Fuck, this could not be good for your soul. 

Red said your name once, snapping you out of your daze. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You shook your head, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m just glad you’re still here. I hated living alone.”

Chapter Text

Red stayed the night but he was gone before you woke up again.

Wing had been the one to inform you once you entered the kitchen, rubbing a hand over your tired face. Gaster was following close behind, the icy chill that came with him like a permanent blanket.

“I have a few questions to ask you,” Wing said as you rummaged through the fridge for something to eat. “If you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” you said, closing the fridge. “What kind of questions?”

Wing placed something on the counter in front of him, and you walked over to take a look. It was your notebook with the translated notes opened to the first page.

“Oh,” you said, embarrassment creeping up your neck. “That.”

“Of course, you could imagine my surprise when I discovered this in your little library upstairs,” he said, tapping the notes. “Tell me, how did you learn my language?”

“ Your language,” you asked, before thinking for a moment and then nodding. “Right, it’s literally named Wingdings. Duh, my bad. It’s all over the internet, Wing. A few different versions of it, too.”

“Really?” Wing turned to Gaster with a look of anger on his face. “So the human mages stole our language before the war was over. I wonder which of those imbeciles-”

You looked between them. “What war?”

The war between the monsters and the humans.

“There was a war ?”

“Yes, it’s the first thing children learn in schools,” Wing explained. “The second thing is hatred for humans.”

“And you fought in this war?”

Wing nodded. “I assume somehow the humans got ahold of something that belonged to me. Us . You say there are different versions of it?” He tutted. “How idiotic. If anyone else had gotten ahold of your journal, Goopy, imagine the mess you’d be in.”

“He doesn’t have to,” you said. “I’m pretty sure this is the mess he’d be in.”

“And why’s that?”

“Anyone else could have just left his journal on the mountain, and even if they found it, who’s to say they’d even think about translating it? Usually, when people find something with weird script in the woods, they assume it’s witchcraft and leave it alone.”

Wing raised a brow bone. “Are you saying you’re special because you decided to pick up a journal off the floor?”

“No, the special part is that I dedicated my entire career to understanding what you and Gaster were trying to figure out years before the surface was breached.”

“Without worrying about the supposed witchcraft?” Wing tilted his head. “I think that’s the insane part.”

You sighed. “Maybe.”

If it makes you feel any better , Gaster said as he hovered closer, I’m glad you found it and not anyone else.

“How charming,” Wing said, turning the pages of your notebook. “Goopy tells me you also plan on building the prototype, correct?”

“I was planning to,” you said, “when I first met Gaster. Now… I don’t know, there’s a lot on my plate.”

“Yes, I can see here you wrote ‘Finish by end of year’. How far did you get?”

“I didn’t even start.” You looked down at the counter. “I met Cash, then Sans, then Gaster, then Red. Since then…”

She hasn’t had a peaceful day in over a month.

“That’s not true. I kept lying and-”

“No, I have to agree with him,” Wing said with a shake of his head, ignoring your words. “I can feel your soul aching. Why, I can’t say, but it’s there.” You blinked at him, and after a bout of silence, Wing looked up and noticed you staring. “What?”

“You can feel my soul?”

“Yes,” he said. “Just like I can check you without you even noticing. It’s all quite easy. For me, at least.”

Creepy. “Did you teach Red how to do that?”

Wing looked away, his expression mirroring that of confusion. “I can’t remember. I taught him a lot of things. Battle technique, etiquette, physics, literature, you name it. All things a proper parent should teach their child. But that , I cannot remember.” He thought about it some more and shook his head. “No, I don’t think I did.”

“Sometimes I forget how smart Red is.”

“Don’t we all,” Wing said with a smile. “He would’ve made a fine soldier.”

A soldier? You blinked at Wing in confusion. Red was practically Captain America at this point, with what you were learning about his past. Or perhaps Black Widow…

“A soldier? Does he know that?”

“Of course he knew. Both him and Papyrus were created for the purpose of being the future army of the Underground. Captain of the Royal Guard? That was meant for Sans,” Wing said, a hint of resentment in his voice. He closed the notebook. “If he hadn’t been so weak, that is.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Red isn’t-”

“You can argue and say Sans is one of the strongest people you know,” Wing interrupted. “But in the Underground, when you’re made for a purpose and you fail at that purpose, you’re nothing more than a burden. That’s how the king felt, at least. That’s why Papyrus was created. To make up for my first mistake.”

“Hold on-”

“I never said he was a mistake,” Wing added quickly. He sighed, intertwining his fingers in front of him. “ My mistake was trying to force an intellectual to wield a weapon. Sans was never meant to be a fighter. He’s brilliant, sometimes too much for his own good. But as I said before, he didn’t meet the expectations set for us, and we both suffered for it.”

“You’re saying you were punished? Because of Red?”

“No, not because of him,” Wing said with a shake of his head. “It was the King’s own fault for expecting a child to want to hurt anyone-”

Enough, Gaster interrupted.

You and Wing both turned to look at him, stunned at his interruption.

I don’t like hearing about this.

“Do you think I like reliving it,” Wing snapped at him. His eyes locked with yours when Gaster would not reply. “I’m not innocent, but if I could redo it all, I would. Sans and Papyrus were my greatest creations, and I spoiled it all because I was too devoted to my king.”

Your eyes widened. “Maybe this is something you should say to him. It might help the both of you.”

“Or it might make everything worse,” Wing scoffed, standing up from the barstool. “I can’t pretend to know exactly what my boys had to do to survive, but they made it much farther than they would have if I didn’t get wiped from existence.”

Can we please talk about anything else? What about that pinball machine you placed in the book corner upstairs? What’s that about?

“It’s just decoration, Gaster.”

“If you don’t want to hear about my life, go away,” Wing said to Gaster, his words seething.

I have a right to stay-

“Alright, both of you,” you said sternly. “Respect each other.”

“He’s trying to silence me.”

He silences me everyday.

You did not want to stick around to hear this petty argument, though you had wished Wing had continued to talk. You started loading up the coffee machine to make yourself some coffee when there was a knock on your door. All was silent at first, with Wing throwing you a worried glance.

“Go upstairs,” you told him, and Wing took the notebook obeyed without a word.

You waited to hear the click of the lock to Gasters room before opening the front door, your eyes going wide. “Cash?”

Cash waved at you, wearing a smile that showed off his sharp teeth. “Hey, sorry for dropping-”

“No, what, you’re always welcome,” you said, ushering him in. Maybe, not always , but you couldn’t exactly say that. “Wait, how’d you find my address?”

“I didn’t. The kids just mentioned you living in walking distance, right in front of the house with a water fountain-” Cash stopped to laugh at your expression. “I’m joking. You wrote your address down on a sticky note in Toriel’s kitchen.”

Shit, maybe you had.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Just came to say hi,” he said, sitting on the same stool Wing had sat in. “They’re moving Rus and I into Toriel’s.”

“Why?” You guessed it had to do with the arrival of the new skeletons.

Cash shrugged, then smiled a more relaxed smile. “Can’t say. But it’s good. No more rules for me, baby.”

“Seriously,” you asked with a smile. “Sans agreed?”

“Not exactly, but he couldn’t argue with everyone . And Toriel doesn’t have the same rules as Sans.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“She thinks I texted you to ask before I left.” Cash pointed at you. “Don’t tell her anything. I planned on texting you on my way here, but I forgot my new phone at home.”

“A new phone, too? You’re getting well adjusted.”

Cash nodded as he dropped his hand. “It was about time. I’ve been having serious FOMO since moving here.”

“I bet. How does your brother feel about it?”

“He threw a fit,” he said. He ran a hand over his eyepatch, and for some reason, you felt the need to avoid your eyes. But all he did was slightly adjust one of the elastic bands. “But it’s better if he stays. I’m good at fighting, but he’s more of a defense fighter than I am, so-”

“What does fighting style have to do with this?”

Cash stopped talking, averted your eyes, and shrugged. “Forget it,” he said.

You gave him an odd look, but figured you’d find out more details later on.

“How about a tour? This place is huge for one person.”

“Red technically lives here for now.”

“Right,” he said, his easy smile dropping. “What’s it like having him as a roommate?”

“He’s cool,” you said, then pointed at the basement door. “That goes down to the basement, but it needs work, so it’s off limits for now.”

“Okay.”

You gestured to the kitchen, “This is the kitchen.” You pointed towards the dining table. “That’s the dining room.”

“Fascinating.”

You started walking out the kitchen and into the hallway, and you heard Cash stand up and follow you. You pointed out the bathroom, then walked into the barren living room with all of Red’s belongings tucked into a corner.

“Red sleeps in here?”

“No,” you lied. “He has a room upstairs. He just leaves stuff down here, too, I guess. I don’t know, I’m not home most of the day.”

You both walked up the stairs, and you first showed him your poor excuse of a room with only your bed inside and a pile of clothes in the corner you had yet to organize and hang up in the closet.

“Um, ignore the mess,” you muttered, but Cash wasn’t even paying attention.

“Is that a pinball machine?” He turned to look at you. “ Why ?”

“I used to play this one a lot as a kid.”

“So,” he said, drawing out the ‘o’. When you gave him a look of confusion, he went on. “Did you buy it, steal it?”

“I… well none of that, I guess. They were getting rid of it, and I took it.”

“Stolen.”

“The sign said ‘Trash’, so not really.”

“No, in the Underground, someone would’ve-” Cash stopped himself, clearing his throat. “Sorry. I’ve been reminiscing a lot.”

You had yet to hear Red say he ever thought about his life in the Underground. It honestly hurt to hear him almost slip up on his big secret when you already knew. “Do you miss it?”

“Not ‘ it’ specifically. Just my friends.”

You were about to ask if they preferred to stay in the Underground, but Cash was most likely from a reality where they hadn’t yet breached the surface. You wondered which friends he was talking about.

“I’m sorry, dude.”

“It’s fine,” he said, looking at the pinball machine to avoid your gaze. “I have my brother, cousins, Toriel, you. It’s not so bad.”

You were touched you had made the list.

“Which one is Red’s room?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, stumbling over your words slightly. “Huh? Oh, that one,” you pointed to the door on the left. “The other one is my office.”

“Can we check it out?”

“My office? Sure, it’s not that great-“

“No, Red’s room.”

You blinked. “It’s locked.”

“I can walk through walls.”

“I have no time to dwell on that, but please don’t.”

“Why not? What exactly does he have in there?”

Besides his creator, nothing inside that room had any relation to Red.

“Come on, I’m curious. His room back home was a mess. I mean, mine, too, but-”

“Cash, we should respect his privacy.”

“Right, ‘cause he pays rent?”

You stayed silent.

“Bills?” He got quieter. “Food?”

“That.”

“He’s freeloading .”

“He’s not - Cash, wait-”

But he had already stepped through. You didn’t even have time to process that he had literally phased through a wall. Each second that seemed to pass, you waited in agony, expecting the worst. A scream, a shout, maybe a fight. But there was only silence. Then, you heard the click of the lock and the door swung open.

Cash stared at you with a look of boredom on his face. “He’s weirdly neat around you. And what’s with the Minecraft portrait?”

“I thought it was cute,” you breathed out.

He laughed. “You gave that to him? You know he’s colorblind, right?”

“Oh.” You recalled that revelation. Red probably didn’t even know that was in there. “Right, the purple eyes.”

“Yeah, he can’t look at Black for more than a few seconds. It’s a little funny, ‘cause Black makes intense eye contact with anyone he’s talking to. More to Red, though.”

You smiled, picturing the scenario in your head. Black definitely seemed like the type to do that on purpose. But then your thoughts went back to Wing. Where had he gone?

After finishing off the tour, Cash had to return to Toriel’s.

Once he was out the door, you let out the biggest sigh of relief. With your shoulders feeling lighter, you went upstairs and opened the door to see Wing laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands resting under his skull.

“Is he gone?”

“Where the fuck did you go?” You stepped into the room and closed the door, walking over to him. “You just disappeared!”

Wing barked out a laugh. “I hid in the closet. I had a feeling he was going to step in.”

“How did you-”

“I already knew of Papyrus’s ability to phase through objects. I figured he’d use it, just like Papyrus used it to play pranks on Sans, or sneak into his room to steal his puzzles.”

“Do all of you have powers like that?”

“Powers?” He sat up  and looked your way. “They’re magical abilities, not superpowers. Some monsters have them, others don’t. Some are far more rare and useful than others. I don’t know how they developed it, because I surely don’t have those abilities.” Wing smiled a self-satisfied type of smile. “But if I created them, then of course they’d have rare abilities.”

“Phasing through walls and teleportation is rare?”

“Incredibly. Take ghost monsters, for example. They can only phase through walls because it’s something they can do,” he explained. “Having that as an ability by itself is rarer than just simply being able to do it.”

You supposed it made some sense. It would be much more terrifying to see a skeleton phase through a wall than it would be to see a ghost do the same thing.

“And teleportation? Don’t simplify Sans’s ability to simple teleportation.” Wing stood, his gestures becoming more animated. “Teleportation is moving to one space without actually moving. When Sans takes a shortcut-”

“Right,” you interrupted, remembering Red’s explanation. “He does have to move.”

“And that pocket in space has to be pre-existing,” he continued, taking a few steps toward you. You noticed the air around him seemed to glow, a deep red color with a purple hue. As he continued to talk and gesture with his hands, the subtle glow began to form something, the center glowing a soft white. “Which means in order for him to know how to get anywhere, he’s had to have memorized where each pocket is-”

You stopped listening, focused on the objects forming around him. The more they seemed to develop, the easier it was to see that they were hands: large white skeleton hands with circles in the palms, and that red glow surrounding each one. You counted a total of six hands, each corresponding to either his left or right hand that mirrored each movement.

“What are you looking at?”

Your eyes focused back on Wing’s. “Your hands.”

Wing looked down at his palms, at the perfect circles where the missing bone should be, then at the space behind him. “Oh, my apologies. That happens sometimes.”

“When you get excited,” you joked.

“I suppose. Figuring out their abilities is one of the greatest mysteries I’ve ever had to solve.”

“You solved it?”

“I must have. Or I’ve forgotten.” He shrugged, turned around and sat back on his bed. “You have to tell Red about your friend's visit.”

You groaned, “I know, I know.”

“We were almost caught.”

“I know, it was bad.”

“Maybe you should've listened to Red and locked me in the basement.”

You sighed. “Maybe.”

Yeah, Red was gonna blow a gasket when you told him.

Chapter Text

Red arrived at around 2 in the morning with dark circles under his eyes and an ache in his spine that wouldn’t seem to go away. You had planned on waiting for him in the kitchen, with the lights on to avoid falling asleep. Unfortunately, that plan hadn’t worked. And Wing had gotten to Red before you did because of that, pulling him into the living room.

“Her friend was here.”

“What friend?”

“One of the Papyri.”

“Cash was here,” Red asked in alarm, his volume rising.

Wing shushed him, pointing to the kitchen. “Quiet, she’s asleep. She was waiting for you, but you took too long.”

“And you didn’t think to wake her and make her go to bed,” Red asked in a loud whisper.

“She wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“So then why are you telling me?”

“Because the both of you are hot headed,” Wing said, enunciating each word. “If I had let the both of you talk it out, what’s to stop you from blowing it out of proportion? And then I have to deal with you moping.”

“I don’t mope.”

Wing ignored him. “You will walk into the kitchen, wake her up, and talk it out in a civil manner.”

Red sighed through his nose, ripping off his gloves and putting them in his pocket. “Did he see you?”

“No, but he almost did. I hid in my room, but she told him it was yours. He got curious and stepped in-”

“Right, the phasing.” Red pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So I hid in the closet.”

He dropped his hand. “But why did she let him in?”

“Don’t blame her,” Wing scolded. “He dropped by unannounced. What was she supposed to do? Turn him away?”

“Yes.”

“I know you refuse to acknowledge it, but they are friends, Sans.”

“You can’t call me that.”

“Fine,” Wing said with a frown. “Let me repeat myself. I know you refuse to acknow-”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Red interrupted. “I’m too tired for this. Go to bed.” Without waiting for a response, Red walked into the kitchen.

You had fallen asleep at the table despite the bright lights overhead, head resting on one arm while the other laid limp on the table. Before Red could even raise his hand to shake you awake, your head snapped up.

Red stepped back in alarm. “Hi.”

You blinked at him for a few seconds, waiting for your brain to catch up to current events. “Hi. What time is it,” you asked, your voice still laden with sleep.

“2 a.m. You should go to bed.”

“I know, but I have to tell you-”

“Wing told me what happened.” He sat down across from you, his expression filled with disappointment.

You closed your eyes, dropping your chin to the table. “I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know he could walk through walls?”

You heard Red sigh. “Yeah. It may have been my fault, too.”

At those words, you raised your head and looked at him. “Why?”

“I knew Cash and Rus were moving into Toriel’s,” Red said as he looked away. “It slipped my mind, so I didn’t tell you. But I should’ve known he’d pull a stunt like this.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be.”

You didn’t know what else to say. You wanted to express how much you really wanted for everything to blow over, for Sans to find out and miraculously be okay with it all. You wanted the secrets to end, but who was to say life would be good when they did?

“Are we cool?”

Red finally looked at you, his brow bones upturned in what looked like worry. “Geez, I’ve been too mean to you lately.” When you didn’t reply, he added, “We’re cool.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

Red nodded and didn’t say anything else for a long time. “You work tomorrow don’t you? You should go to bed.”

You only nodded in response, bidding him a goodnight as you left the kitchen and went upstairs.

-

Monday was hectic.

Sans and Alphys were both missing, without a single word or warning from either of them. Of course, normally that wouldn’t be an issue, but when one of top physicists and lead scientist of the magic department was gone, they relied on the only assistant available in the lab.

Which meant you were stuck with a sudden influx of emails from people many positions above you, inquiries from random people who needed approval from Sans about some project, and about four separate meetings that you arrived late to due to the late notice.