are there dogs inside? [OPEN]

[punful]

Who: Sans and YOU
Where: The True Lab and Rick's Lab
When: Throughout the event
Rating: PG - PG-13, will adjust as needed
Summary: A tiny skeleton walks into a lab. What happens next will warm your heart!
The Story:

A: The Beds - it's easier to bury your head in the sand

So, yanno, this is fine. It's only the third time Wonderland is decided, hey, let's make Sans even smaller than he already is, so at this point he's almost used to it. He even got to keep his memories this time, so that's a plus.

The downside is basically everything else. Not only is he smaller, he's also weaker, and it's not like Sans was ever a particularly strong monster. He's got no magic and no real way to defend himself short of running away, and while the Amalgamates are theoretically harmless, it's awfully easy for one of their weird attacks to knock out that 1 HP.

So Sans did what he does best--he went to sleep and tried to ignore everything.

He's been hiding under one of the beds in the lab's central area, napping on and off for the past few hours, occasionally poking his head out to see if anyone is nearby. Or if any of the Amalgamates are coming to eat him. It's awfully easy to sink into the nonsensical "they're definitely going to eat me" mindset at this age.

B: Puzzles - just another set of ideas

Once that weird old man's post goes up, it becomes apparent what this is all gonna be about. Avoid danger, solve some puzzles, find the macguffin and save your life. It's annoying, but Sans figures this is just about the best scenario that could have possibly happened, given the content of these events. Things could be a hell of a lot worse, and that's given the fact that he's like two feet tall and has occasional bouts of shakiness.

Monsters are pretty good at puzzles, though, and jigsaw puzzles are easier than switch or block puzzles. They're just more time consuming. It doesn't help that he's constantly distracted by watching for Amalgamates, or the weird sensation of being here doing a puzzle and also being somewhere else, slowly dying in a vat.

Still, he's doing his best, and he's generally happy to help anyone else with the puzzles. Collab, bro?

C: Keys - i've got nostalgia running through me and i don't like it

Time to find those keys or whatever. The hallways are more dangerous than the room with all the beds, though, and Sans doesn't know his way around. This is the most he's ever seen of the lab. He's not even sure how accurate the layout is.

No choice, though. He can feel time slowly running out. Gotta find those keys and find his real body, and that means braving the hallways and creepy fogged over rooms. You'd think Alphys had installed smoke machines down here or something.

Hopefully an Amalgamate doesn't show up, right?

D: Bad Memory - and now it follows me every day

Something's been following Sans for a little while now. Something bad. Every time he looks behind him to try and see it, it disappears.

Occasionally his phone rings, but Sans knows better than to answer it. He never met this one, but...call it instinct. A looming sense of dread. By now he's visibly nervous. He's had enough of bad memories lately, and he'd really rather avoid this one.

E: The Vats - i relive it, i relive it

He's made it to the lower lab, and now it's just a matter of finding his body. He's worn out and disheveled and just generally very ready to be done with all this bullshit. There's a lot of vats down here, though, so finding the one with the skeleton in it might take a bit. He's probably also going to need help with that whole "transferring consciousness" thing.

Comments

[mettatonvevo]

The sarcasm is welcome in all honesty, because it is more proof that Sans is back to normal. Mettaton gives a small quirk of a smile in response. Said quirk continues as he watches Sans try to wipe at his face. Yeah, the handkerchief can't do much, but at least it can get some of the liquid off of him.

Mettaton nods, walking backwards a bit to get Sans more out of the puddle pooling from the vat and helps Sans sit down on the ground. After an awkward moment's muddling he decides to sit too. He faces Sans.

"We can wait here until you're strong enough to move again."

and then it got bad again

[punful]

Sitting. Sitting is good. Much better than standing or walking or floating motionless for three or so days.

He doesn't really expect Mettaton to sit with him. From the way Mettaton's been acting, he sort of figured he'd just leave once all this was over. That would be fine. There's probably a closet around here somewhere with a spare labcoat or something, and Sans could just camp out until the event ends. Maybe head back upstairs for more popato chisps eventually.

It's nice of him to stay, especially given Sans's state of undress. Or maybe he just wants his handkerchief back. Sans hands it back to him and leans back against someone else's vat with an exhausted sigh.

"yeah, okay. sounds good. uh, you...you don't have to keep me company 'f you don't want to. done enough already, yanno?"

He's still shaking a little, though not as bad as when he was a kid. It's a damn shame all his clothes shrank with the rest of him, otherwise he could...

A weight settles into the bottom of his soul. His kid body. What happened to it? Probably turned to dust already, right? He shouldn't--he shouldn't check, really doesn't want to see his own dust all over the floor, but his eyelights move past Mettaton almost of their own accord, some leftover curiosity from before, and he--

Freezes.

The body's still there. Soaked, motionless, too small, eyesockets half closed, and it sort of feels like a hand has closed over his soul and is starting to squeeze.

"why's--why's it--"

Why is it still there? It should just be dust now, that's what happens when monsters...

Only his kid body isn't exactly dead, is it? Just sort of...empty. Just an empty skeleton child, lying in a puddle.

He can't, uh. He can't seem to look away.

"can. can you--i'm sorry, i n-need--i need to get away from here. can you--? i don't care if you pick me up, i just can't..."

His voice stays level, but he's pretty sure he's panicking. Somehow he manages to wrench his gaze away from the body and stares at the only other thing he can stare at, which happens to be Mettaton.

He can't quite keep the desperation off his face.

The story of Sans Undertale

[mettatonvevo]

Mettaton takes the handkerchief, wincing a little at the leftover liquid dripping off of it, and stows it away again. He'll have to clean out that compartment when this is over but it's no big deal. It's just a bit messy.

"Yes, well. You only just got back in your body and it might not be entirely safe to just. Let you be alone. Something could happen if I let you out of my sight."

He winces again right when he's done speaking. Lord. He sounds transparent. He feels conflicted. He should leave, like Sans said, but if he leaves then... something else might kill him. He doesn't think he could handle that guilt again.

I'm sorry, he thinks. I'll do better next time.

His attention returns to Sans just in time to see his eyes drift towards- oh no. No. He lifts a hand to try and gently turn his face away but it's too late. His eyesockets grow wide and he seems locked in place, stockstill as he stares at... Mettaton's eyes drift over.

Oh god. It's still there. Why isn't it dusting? Why isn't it disappearing? Sans mutters something and Mettaton feels the same chill from before. That was alive. That was sitting on his shoulders and giggling not five minutes ago and now it's, ha, it's empty, he's empty- (don't think he, don't use he, keep your distance, it's an empty body, if you think too much about how his eyelights were bright you might-)

Sans speaks again. Mettaton tears his gaze away at the same time as Sans, their eyes meeting as they look at each other. He looks so desperate. Pleading. His soul leaps and he doesn't know what to do. The panic is setting in and gripping him tight, horror settling on his face.

Distance. Push it away. Push all of this away. He needs to leave. So do you. You're on stage, Mettaton, remember? Your curtain call is here and your co-star is flubbing his lines. Cover. Reach forward, take his hands in yours. Smile. That's the most important part. You can't let the audience know you're nervous. Pull him up. Don't let him look again.

"Just keep looking at me, darling. Follow my lead."

The audience is oddly silent, floating in their vats as Mettaton begins to lead Sans out and away. He walks backwards, face now oddly serene as he looks at Sans.

"Don't look anywhere else. Just me."

He, haha, he keeps reminding him of Alphys. Of Napstablook. They all panic the same way, don't they? Haha. He always has to be strong for them. He always has to be because they can't take care of themselves and wow that's so heavy. That's so much.

He looks behind himself, having been lucky enough to evade the vats and sees the door back to Alphys's section of the lab. The stage exit. Just a bit more. Push your feelings away. Push it all away. Once you're through, you won't have to ever think about this again. The curtains will close soon.

+1 to ZEZPQB BT FRESMNF IZDVZ BEFVQN GC NBVBW

sand undertoots

[punful]

Mettaton seems to realize what's happening even before Sans actually spots the body, taking hold of Sans's face--and, hell, just the touch helps. It grounds him a little, helps him remember that he's here in this body. He's as he should be. He's not dead on the floor five feet away.

His breathing settles a little and then he looks at Mettaton, watches his face go from horrified to--

Smiling brightly, like nothing is wrong. Like nothing at all is wrong, like there isn't just some kid's body lying over there.

Sans feels kind of hazy as Mettaton helps him to his feet, takes hold of both his hands, leads him forward. Sans wobbles and stumbles and he can't look away from Mettaton, can't look away from his face, and he's...he's not sure how he's feeling anymore. Horrified, yeah, that's definitely there, and maybe confused also, and probably panicking, and why is Mettaton still smiling? He's not like Sans and he's not like Chara--right? He doesn't need to just--smile like that to deal with what's happening.

He keeps moving, staring up at Mettaton, moving kind of like he's never even walked before, everything hazy and a thousand miles away. And then--

And then the vats are gone, and a door closes, and Sans blinks. Something just...ends.

Sans keeps one hand on Mettaton's and presses the other to his face. It's done. It's over. There's a kid still lying on the floor somewhere, but he doesn't have to see it anymore, doesn't have to think about it. The event will end sometime soon and all of this will stop mattering.

Mettaton is still smiling, and of course Sans is too, except not really.

"sorry." He's not really sure what he's apologizing for. For--making Mettaton deal with his bullshit, for making Mettaton drag him out of there, for...for making Mettaton have to smile like that.

"i-i'm sorry. thank you. i'm...i'm fine now, i..."

He still hasn't let go of Mettaton's hand.

[mettatonvevo]

Sans looks at him and he doesn't look away and it's just as he wanted it to be, just like it says in the script. They exit, stage left, and they're out now. They're free.

The smile on his face feels plastered on. They're backstage now, they don't have to worry about the curtains or the audience but Mettaton keeps himself perfect. After all, anyone could be watching now. The other lab is gigantic.

Sans puts a hand to his face and he looks partially relieved and Mettaton feels relieved too. It's a bit of a distant feeling, but it's good all the same. Nothing really feels... solid except for where Sans still holds his hand.

It feels nice. He's shaking a little but it's fine.

"It's all right, Sans. We're out of there now. There's nothing to worry about."

Nothing at all. No dust in a jar, no empty bones lying on a cold wet floor. No waves lapping at the beach, no drinks dropped into the sand. No text messages sent with no answer. Everything is fine.

"You're alive, and that's what counts."

His voice is still cheery and unerringly positive. He did it. He saved Sans and this time with little to no damage to him! That's good, right? This is fine.

This is fine.

[punful]

They're out. They're free. They're safe.

And he still doesn't want to let go of Mettaton's hand. It feels like the only real thing right now. Normally it would be Papyrus. It should be Papyrus being his anchor, but...

Papyrus isn't here. Sans wouldn't want him to be here, anyway, would never have wanted his brother to have to see any of this. It's bad enough that Mettaton had to witness any of it. Any of this bullshit. He's still--he's still smiling like that, and it feels--wrong. It feels viscerally wrong, like none of this is even real, like they're both just up on stage. Sans is a pretty decent actor, all things considered, but this is on a whole different level.

Mettaton is shaking and he's still smiling. Sans is pretty sure he's shaking as well.

There's nothing to worry about. He's alive, that's what counts.

Sans sways a little and wraps his other hand around Mettaton's, holding on with both hands. Partially to steady himself, partially to steady Mettaton, though he's--he's Mettaton, he shouldn't even--he shouldn't need someone like Sans to--

"y-yeah. yeah. we're..."

He can't look at Mettaton's face anymore, can't look at that plastic smile anymore, so he looks at their hands instead, two small bony hands wrapped around metal fingers, and it's--it's asking too much, it's taking too much, but it's also the only thing that feels real. It's the closest Mettaton has been this whole time, like he's reaching back over whatever distance is yawning between them, again.

"you don't...you don't have to do that anymore. we're fine, you helped me, so you don't--you don't have to. i'm sorry. i'm sorry, i shouldn't have..."

He's making it worse. Somehow he always just takes the worst possible thing and makes it even worse. He doesn't even know what he's making worse. It's--too much, it's too confusing, and his skull is starting to ache.

He keeps staring at their hands for a few long moments, trying to calm down. Trying to stop thinking so much.

"...we'd better...uh, find me something to wear, before. before one of the kids spots me and drops dead from horror or something."

[mettatonvevo]

When Sans's other hand makes contact around Mettaton's hand the robot gives off a shudder. And suddenly he feels himself coming back down from wherever he was before. He's falling into his body and it's a curious sensation. It's not terribly unlike when he first bonded to this physical representation of him, the first time he felt metal on his soul.

Sans looks away. He looks to their hands and Mettaton feels the smile slowly slip off his face. They're off the stage. There's no one but them. Or at least that's what it feels like.

"Sans. It's ok. I'm... I'm ok."

His voice is shaky but he brings up his other hand to Sans's and now they're holding each other and it feels solid and real and he's back. He's back here and remembering another time when he clasped someone's hands and he thinks of Bucky and how he was like a lifeline. He thinks of Chara and how he had wished for them to see his soul. And now he looks at Sans and thinks...

He's just. So. weak. But he doesn't let go. Can't let go. Oh please forgive him, please...

"Right. Right, of course. We could dress you in a sheet or something. Like that."

two hours of shitposting later,

[punful]

Mettaton shakes and Sans holds on tighter. As tight as he can without hurting himself or Mettaton. And that's always the trick, isn't it? The only way to assure someone doesn't get hurt is to let go.

But he doesn't.

It's a strange feeling, and things still seem like they're far away, and he knows he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be holding on, shouldn't be taking, but--

Somehow he thinks Mettaton needs this as much as he does. It's strange. Like they're holding each other upright. Funny, considering Mettaton was doing all the carrying a few minutes ago, and Sans's legs still don't want to support his weight much at all.

This can't exactly be good for either of them, but the alternative is falling.

Mettaton wraps his other hand around Sans's and now they're both well and truly holding on.

Well and truly fucked.

Mettaton says he's okay, and he's lying.

"no. neither of us are. but we...we will be. maybe."

It's always a maybe. Things don't get better, they just sort of...get to a point of less terrible. Some modicum of "okay." Close enough for government work, as the saying goes.

He makes himself look up at Mettaton again, and Mettaton is no longer smiling. No longer fake, no longer plastic. Real. And a tension runs out of Sans. He smiles, and it's weak and exhausted and tentative, but it's also real.

"sheet sounds fine. and then, uh, maybe using it to sleep for a few years."

AFTER I HAVE VOWED TO NEVER USE THE WORD CREAM AGAIN

[mettatonvevo]

Mettaton gives out a small chuckle, barely more than a small rush of sound and not defined, but there is amusement there all the same. So Sans called him out on his bluff. That's pretty bold of him.

He's exhausted. So exhausted. He hasn't been pushed to this brink in awhile, he thinks. His head droops and his shoulders kind of come with it and the next thing he knows his forehead is pressed to Sans's and this is more close than he imagined they'd be. Which is ridiculous to think, considering Mettaton was literally holding Sans's naked body to his own not ten minutes ago.

The contact is nice. Comfortable even. He hasn't touched anyone like this for quite a bit of time. The one person he wanted to seek this out from is blocked from him, after all. Glass really is more solid than you want it to be.

"We will be. We will be."

He musters up some confidence as he says it, some trust in the future that they'll get better, be better. He hopes Sans achieves that without him. It would be easier for them both if he could. Why must he drag things on like this? Oh Mettaton, can't you be kind for once?

He misses Alphys. He misses Napstablook. They live right next door to him and it feels like they're a thousand miles away. Sans is right across the hall but it might as well be in another world entirely. Stars are always alone, even when set in a constellation.

Mettaton has been leaning on him for a little too long, he thinks, and he pulls away. "That sounds like a lovely idea. We both need some rest."

fffffff

[punful]

He gives a bit of a chuckle in return, even though nothing's really funny. Nothing's really funny right now, no, but--well, that at least is a certainty. It's in his nature to find the humor in things, no matter how bad things get. It's inevitable.

He thinks maybe that's going to be it, that the moment's going to pass and Mettaton is probably going to let go, but then Mettaton leans forward and--

For one wild second he thinks maybe Mettaton is trying to kiss him again, which is ridiculous, completely stupid, because this is certainly no time for that kind of physical comedy, and that sort of thing only works on Valentine's Day anyway when a joke like that is in better taste than usual and--

Mettaton presses his forehead to Sans's and the sound that escapes him isn't quite a gasp, not really, just a sort of...quiet, tiny inhale.

This isn't.

This isn't something one does lightly. This isn't something you joke with. You don't fake this sort of thing. Skeletons really miss out when it comes to physical contact, though Sans of course never really thought of it as something to miss. No lips for kissing, no skin or nerves or hair to run fingers through, certainly no warm pulse of a heartbeat that Sans can feel vibrating his ribcage when he hugs Frisk. It's a little strange and a little amazing. Skeletons have none of that. Just bone, and not much feeling there, not much way to be physically affectionate without holding hands, interlocking fingers or...

Doing this.

It's as close to a kiss as they can come, the kind of thing reserved for family members and lovers and--close friends.

He can't dodge this sort of thing. Can't defend against the way his soul swells up inside him, the way he just--wants to hold onto this and not let go. It's stupid, it's dangerous, it's too--it's too much. It's Mettaton, of all people it's Mettaton, someone like Mettaton shouldn't be doing this with him, shouldn't feel that strongly about someone like Sans, should never have noticed him at all. He should never, ever have let himself be this vulnerable, not around anyone.

But, god. There's this hole inside him that's been there a very long time, maybe since the beginning, something he's always known will never go away. Just part of coming out wrong, of being broken, he figured. Not empty, not always, because there's Papyrus to fill in the spaces, or the kids, or Alphys, or Toriel, or Grillby and any of his regulars, or even Gaster sometimes back when things were briefly okay, or any of the friends he's made in Wonderland, or his weird pet cat.

Or Mettaton.

And now he's a little less empty.

And he thinks maybe he needs this.

And that scares the shit out of him.

That's terrifying. That's completely terrifying, because Mettaton can't possibly mean it like that, because people don't just care about Sans, because he knows if he makes room in his too-small too-dim too-broken soul for anyone else it's going to kill him when the Reset comes.

Mettaton says they will be okay, and god, Sans knows he should pull away, knows he should let go, he'll be so much safer and it'll hurt so much less if he lets go, but he doesn't. And if he knew, god, if he knew, he could tell Mettaton how stars aren't always alone, how there are binary systems and star clusters and planets, if nothing else there's planets, there's all that life the star supports, and ain't that something?

Ain't that something, at least?

Mettaton pulls away first and Sans draws another tiny, shaky breath.

He feels a little dazed.

"y...yeah."

He's pretty sure his eyelights are burning a little too bright, probably giving a little too much away.

"yeah."

[mettatonvevo]

Mettaton doesn't know exactly how deep this gesture goes for Sans. He's not thinking clearly and if he knew at all that this meant so much to him he wouldn't have done it. It's too close, it's too vulnerable, it's too real, more real than he's willing to show. He has no idea that with one small movement he's torn aside the curtains and walked into the audience and broken the barrier between performer and spectator.

Sans draws in a small breath and Mettaton thinks that he helped somehow. That despite doing the wrong thing and being here for him, that perhaps Sans feels better now. There's guilt and shame pulling at him for how silly he's being, how he's just going to make things worse for the both of them in the future when he has to pull away, when he can't ignore it anymore, when he finds out about this and reminds him of who he is and how this is his best act. His greatest lie.

Mettaton isn't this person. He's not this selfless hope to others. But goodness, if he knew, if Sans knew and said those things about planets and star clusters, maybe he'd. Maybe he'd... ask. Ask for Sans to stay in his orbit. Even if the rays are too bright, even if the heat of the star scourges the planet, even if they may one day overwhelm the gravity well between them and crash into each other in a blinding explosion, at least they'll have shared warmth before then. At least there would have been time to see the sunset and sunrise, time to see a planet slowly turn on its axis in all of its beauty.

Sans's eyelights are so bright and it chases away the shadows from before. There's no darkness there like back in the lab and Mettaton feels strength return to him. He holds Sans's hand and leads him towards the rest of the lab, intent on getting something to cover him up.