Sleep wasn't easy. Something in his brain always seemed to be wrong. Sans needed to be busy or else he would go insane. That's what his workshop was for—more than anything, it was an escape from his brain's constant desire to act, even if he could barely muster up the motivation to do anything. It was an excuse to be awake when, in all honesty, he would rather sleep than anything else.

But the problem with sleeping was that there always seemed to be nightmares to accompany it, and once he fell asleep, it was quite difficult to pull him out. Therefore, when he woke up, he was always grumpy and groggy, barely functional by any means. It was only the sliver that was his will to live that managed to get him out of bed.

This logical madness was the self-dubbed Sans Conundrum, and he faced it like an old enemy today.

His eye sockets blearily flicked open, vision fuzzed over. His gaze flicked over to the clock.

1:26 PM.

Oh, come on, why—it wasn't even morning anymore. That perfect morning was barely more than a faraway daydream.

He groaned, almost throwing himself out of bed in frustration. Count on his self-loathing to fuel his motivation to exist.

The downstairs was deserted, save for a rumpled note set down on the table. Sans glanced over it quickly:

Hey Sans, Pap and I are going on patrol. He left some spaghetti for you in the microwave. It's a little chewy, but the taste is nothing some salt can't fix. He's getting better every day! Love you. See you later.

—The Incredible Frisk

P.S. I EAGERLY AWAIT FOR YOUR ARRIVAL! SEE YOU SOON, BROTHER!

—THE GREAT PAPYRUS

Sans chuckled to himself. The kid always seemed to find a way to make him laugh, no matter what. Despite...everything, he was extremely grateful that they had found their way down here.

With a grimace—and a metric crap-ton of salt, as per Frisk's recommendation—Sans swallowed down Papyrus's spaghetti and put the plate in the sink, rinsing it off. He was depressed, not a heathen.

The air tasted crisper today. Sans breathed a hefty sigh of it as he shoved his hands in his pockets, heading down the path to the sentry station, where the dynamic duo would most certainly be. The snow crunched underneath his slippers, a satisfying sound that almost made up for the usual morning misery.

Almost. Not quite. But almost.

His walk was more of a meander, and he arrived at the post some time later—he was honestly terrible at keeping track of time.

Papyrus was pacing, eagle eyes narrowed around him, always vigilant for clues of a human. Frisk was sat down at the post, chair tilted back and boots crossed over their ankles as they rested on the table. They had told him, one time, that it reminded them of a lemonade stand, and then they rambled for a minute about ducks and lemonade and grapes. He could hardly make sense of it, but that was Frisk for you: mind running in circles, always thinking of something else.

The moment the eagle eyes noticed the short skeleton, they shot open, and Papyrus crowed in elation. "BROTHER! THERE YOU ARE!"

Told you he wouldn't be here before 2.

"aw, you're breaking my heart here, frisk."

A bit of a smile brushed the edges of their lips, and their hand signs somehow dripped with a condescending attitude. Not my fault you're a monster of habit.

"SANS, WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG! WHILE BEING LATE EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE IS PERFECTLY NATURAL AND NORMAL, IT IS NOT USUALLY HOURS!"

"well, i was busy."

"WITH WHAT?!"

Heh heh heh.

"i was practicing."

Papyrus grew suddenly quiet. Hands on his hips, he leaned down to stare with narrowed sockets at his brother, squinting suspiciously. "...PRACTICING WHAT?"

Hook...

Sans shrugged, sagging his stance even more than it already was in an attempt to look casual. "in my band."

"I AM AFRAID OF WHERE THIS IS GOING."

...line...

His grin grew, sockets shaped like crescent moons at the pure glee that resonated within him for this second. "guess what instrument i play."

Realization finally seemed to strike. Papyrus screeched momentarily, reaching out for Sans, as if he could stop the pun from leaving his mouth. "SANS, NO! DON'T YOU DA—"

But like the tide rolling in and the sun rising and setting, it was an inevitability.

"a trombone."

Papyrus's scream of righteous fury seemed to echo over the Underground, and Sans cracked up.

...and sinker.

"SAAAAAAAAAAANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"what."

Steam was practically blowing out of Papyrus's skull, and by this point even Frisk had to hide a few conceding chuckles behind a hand. "YOU ARE A MENACE TO SOCIETY! YOU SIMPLY HAVE A CHRONIC CONDITION IN WHICH YOU CANNOT STOP MAKING PUNS!"

"you're right, paps."

Snickering, Sans stuck a bony hand down his jacket and drew out a rope from the void. Pulling it around itself and into a loop, he grinned ever wider until it consumed most of his face, the moons scrunching up almost to slits as he held it up, prideful. "i can knot."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Papyrus clutched his skull, whimpering as though in pain from the puns. Who knows, maybe it was physical at this point. He had been subject to them for heaven knew how long, since they were children and Sans understood the concept of wordplay and Papyrus could grasp the concept of hatred. "I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!"

He grabbed Frisk's foot and marched down the path, grumbling about designing more puzzles and dragging the defenseless human behind him. They seemed largely unbothered by being pulled through the snow, leaning their head back to look upside-down at Sans and stick their tongue out at him. He chuckled after them, earning a smile in return, and then the two had left him for whiter pastures. Presumably, ones with him not in them.

Sans sighed again, more comfortably than before, then shoved the now knotted rope back down his jacket. That was good. He did not regret one bit of that.

Maybe today would actually be okay. Despite his morning being nonexistent, the afternoon could maybe make up for it. All he could really do is hope, even though by now it was becoming a rarity even on his best of days. Hope was...honestly, it was just as much as a dream as the perfect morning he craved.

Not too far in the distance, he heard the familiar snow crunch, but from the wrong direction. Then a loud squeak and thunk. From the door.

The pinpricks vanished from his sockets, and Sans disappeared.

(•)

Y/N gazed at the scene before her. The world beyond the door was nothing like she expected. For one thing, it was snowing lightly, and snow covered the ground. According to all known laws of aviation, this made none of the sense. Unless it had created a self-contained water cycle? But the climates also made no sense. The Ruins were very mild, slightly cool, but nothing like the close-to-freezing temperatures that this area had. At least she had the sense to fall down wearing her stylish, rocking hoodie. It provided warmth enough for her.

But in any case, Y/N hummed to herself, a little confused but not letting that invade the rest of her brain space. Stepping through and letting the great door shut behind her with a rather loud bang (hopefully one that didn't attract the wrong kind of attention), she began to track through the snow.

She glanced up. Through hazy gray clouds, she could faintly see a stone ceiling, maybe a mile up. How far had she truly fallen? And how had she survived?

Snowflakes fluttered onto her eyelashes, her cheeks, her lips, and suddenly her concerns were forgotten again. Snow. She remembered, now, that she had never seen snow before. It came to her mind in that moment that the landscape truly looked magical. The snow glittered in the light, whatever light that there was, from the ground and from the branches of pine trees. It was beautiful.

She smiled to herself. Well, no time like the present to enjoy a snow day.

Y/N crouched down to grab a fistful of snow, chuckling to herself as she squeezed it, letting it squish and melt between her fingers. Oh, happiness. Simple, sweet happiness. Nothing like it.

She stood and jumped, to which the snow gave a noisy crunch. So satisfying. She spun in circles, letting her arms swing around with the momentum. The snow kicked up under her feet, and her footprints were deep.

Y/N, after a minute of this, finally began her journey forward, into the unknown. She passed a broken branch and a gated bridge with bars too far apart to do any blocking, thinking nothing of them. Her hands were stuck in her pockets, her bag hefted over her shoulder, and the world seemed to be alright.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

She froze. Curse her lack of fight or flight responses! She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move?

"hey. human. turn around and shake my hand."

Y/N gulped. Oh God.

She turned, slowly. The figure behind her was shrouded in shadow, except for a vaguely threatening smile that made her shiver. Its hand was outstretched, ready for her.

Her hand reached out and squeezed the hand, her grip shaking. She couldn't make eye contact, staring over his shoulder. Fear was such a wonderful emotion. Anxiety was coming for her—

Pfffffffffffffft.

She blinked, then stared, blankly, at the figure. What had just...?

They snorted, lifting up their hand to show something pink and floppy. "whoopee cushion. it's always funny."

Something about the way they—he?—said that just pushed her over the edge. She snorted, covering her mouth with her other hand as her already winter-pinked cheeks burned red. "Oh, come on, really?"

The shadow seemed to fall away from him to reveal a skeletal figure, wearing a blue bomber jacket with fluff on the hood and pink slippers. The grin on his face seemed much more genuine and humorous than before. "well, you laughed, didn't you?"

She beamed right back, not as afraid as she thought she might be—monsters were monsters, and she couldn't change that. Instead she cocked her head and studied him. His skull wasn't like a traditional human skull; rather, it seemed malleable, almost like a mixture of flesh and skin. It stretched out.

"didn'tcha ever learn that it's rude to stare?"

She blinked again, back to reality. He was looking expectantly, his head tilted also, the smile faint and somewhat confused.

"Oh, sorry." Y/N stuffed her hands in her hoodie again, ducking her head as though to hide. Still, she hid a secret smirk. "Tibia honest, I've never met a skele-ton of monsters."

Silence, for a solid few seconds. A bead of sweat broke down her temple. Had her jokes not landed? He probably didn't share her pun-centered sense of humor. She was just as awkward as usual, like she always would be—

The skeleton suddenly folded over, howling with laughter. "that's a twofer! oh, that's good. my god."

Y/N's grin was less subtle now. "I'm glad you found them humerus."

He gasped in a breath to chortle, loudly. "oh my god. i can't. you're too good."

Finally she started to snicker herself. "Thank you. I've been practicing."

The skeleton's laughter began to trail off, leaving him hardly able to breathe. He was nearly crying, glowing blue liquid ringing his sockets. "wow. that was great."

"I'm glad." She pushed her hair behind the crest of her ear with a hand, which quickly returned to her pocket. Her grin was bright and bold, for perhaps the first time in a while. Even Toriel hadn't been able to draw such a smile out of her. "I mean, my colleagues—I don't really share a sense of humor with them. Puns and wordplay, you know? It's just nice to make someone laugh like that. A real belly laugh."

"it's nice to laugh like that." The skeleton stuck out his hand again, no strings or joy-buzzers attached. His expression was so genuinely happy. "the name's sans. sans the skeleton."

She shook it firmly. "Y/N. Y/N the human."

"i could tell."

"Well, I don't imagine you don't get many down here."

Sans shrugged. "fair assumption. we've only got one."

"One? You mean Frisk?"

He raised his bone-brows, or something like them. "you've heard of them?"

She moved her head side to side. "Well, I got their name from a reliable source. You know, the lady behind the door."

Sans nodded solemnly, seeming to understand the implication. "oh. yeah. i get it."

"SANS!" boomed a voice from the distance. "WHERE DID YOU GO? YOU LEFT THE SENTRY POST WITHOUT TELLING ME!"

"and there'd be the one human."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, shielding her eyes from the light and squinting into the distance. "That's not them, is it?"

"nah, that's my bro. frisk is probably with him."

"Your brother has a voice like a megaphone?"

"it's a gift he's had since birth. if he wanted, he could probably make a good siren."

"Brother's name?"

"papyrus."

"Like the font?"

"and comic sans."

"Ah. I get it. Interesting naming conventions."

"you could say that."

They stood silently together for another moment, looking at the path and the dots that were elongating and getting closer.

"you should probably hide. bro's a royal guard 'n all, and i'm sure you've heard about the wonderful treatment humans have gotten in the past."

"Not a very good reception, I've heard."

"yeah."

"Where can I hide, though?"

"what about that conveniently shaped lamp? you'll have to crouch, but it looks like you might be able to fit behind it."

Y/N stared at it for a second, glanced at Sans, and back at the lamp, questioning the laws of the universe once again. It seemed to be a constant process for her since she first fell into the Underground. "Uh...okay then?"

"just trust me. it'll work."

She shrugged to herself. "Alright."

Then she ducked behind it, squatting to the ground and tucking her knees up into her chest. Sans gave her a thumbs up, and she took that as a good sign that she was well-concealed.

Heavy footfalls. Her ears perked up. Papyrus was much taller and more weighty than Sans.

"THERE YOU ARE, SANS! HAVE YOU BEEN HERE ALL THIS TIME?"

Y/N turned her head as slowly as possible to look at the shorter brother, whose expression was cool and nonchalant. He probably made a good liar, didn't he? "hey, you two. i think i have."

"WELL, WE HAVE NO TIME TO LOSE! FRISK AND I HAVE CREATED A BRAND NEW PUZZLE, WHICH—IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF—IS ONE OF OUR BEST ONES YET!"

Y/N tilted her head, peeking very slightly around the curving purple porcelain. From there, she could look up and see, as she suspected, a very tall skeleton. His bones were more lean, apart from his chest, which was covered with a thick chest piece. A red scarf curled around his neck.

On his shoulders sat a teenage human, gleefully gnawing on a confectionery item of some kind, maybe a doughnut: Frisk, if she had to venture a guess. They wore a blue- and magenta-striped sweater, brown shorts, and brown boots.

While Sans and Papyrus continued to converse, Frisk's gaze wandered around as they shoved the rest of the doughnut in their mouth. Finally their big, warm brown eyes landed on Y/N.

They gaped at each other for a few shocked seconds—seeing that there was another human in the Underground seemed to paralyze them both. They couldn't help but stare. The awkward silence stretched out before them.

Then their brows furrowed, and their hands began to move rapidly. Wait a second, who are you? What are you doing here?

Y/N's gaze flickered over the signs, some memories from her ASL classes in high school flooding back to assist. Hesitantly, she sent her own back: I'm Y/N. I fell down on accident some time ago. Did that happen to you too?

Frisk's eyes widened a little, a hint of relief pulling at the corner of their mouth. Yes, I'm Frisk, and I fell from Mount Ebott. I'm glad to not be the only human down here anymore.

Ebott? I didn't come from there. There was a hole in Yellow Valley that I fell through.

And you ended up in the Ruins?

Yes. Perhaps the tunnel systems are connected? That would explain how we had two starting points and one end point.

Maybe.

By now, Sans had glanced up and noticed the flurry of signs that Frisk was directing at the lamp, leading to the reasonable assumption that they had noticed her. But so far Papyrus remained as oblivious as always. It was getting a bit more difficult to stall, however. His brother was unobservant, not stupid. He didn't have more than another minute or two—

"WAIT...WHAT'S BEHIND THAT CONSPICUOUSLY-SHAPED LAMP?"

Sans felt a bead of cold sweat drip down his skull. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe it all came down to now.