Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sans was alone. 

He was alone in an empty room, curled up on a bench on the wall, face as blank as the wall he stared at– though he doubted he was actually seeing anything. 

It was quiet– too quiet. Quieter than it had ever been in Sans’s short life. If it weren’t for the hum of the dim lights above them, he would venture to say silent. The tiled floor reminded him of the lab his Dad worked in, though far darker. 

Sans was pulled from his thoughts as hurried footsteps echoed down the hall, deafening compared to the near-silence he had been subjected to for God knows how long. Then, the sound of lasers deactivating as their doorway was opened momentarily– just long enough for a figure to shove Papyrus into the room– no, the cell. It was a cell. Sans had no clue how he knew that; he just… knew. 

Papyrus was loosely wrapped in bandages that Sans doubted were doing anything to help him. As the figure's footsteps retreated down the hall and Sans caught a good look at Papyrus, he realized how bad it was. 

Papyrus was hurt. 

He was hurt badly. 

His skull was cracked in too many places to count, and there was an ugly-looking fracture on his right shoulder. 

Sans watched himself rush forward to catch Papyrus as his body threatened to topple over. He sat on the floor with him, head cradled in his lap. Sans watched himself whisper words he couldn’t quite make out to his brother, tears beginning to form in both their eyes. 

Sans watched himself try to glow, 

And only his right eye did. 

Sans bolted upright in his bed. 

Bed. Not bench. Bed. 

He cradled his head in one hand as the dream replayed in his mind– watching himself, alone, trying to help his brother. His brother, hurt beyond measure, hurt in ways Sans couldn’t comprehend. 

Sans glanced over to find his brother in his bed on the other side of the room. Safe, content, healthy. His eyes glowed a gentle orange as he dreamed away. He thought back to the cell, so similar to his dad’s lab. 

He guessed that was where his mind had gotten it from. 

He had learned recently from his aunt Alphys that dreams often used aspects of real life, that the brain couldn’t make up details that didn’t already exist. Every face, every person, every place, was something he had seen before. 

Sans didn’t think he had a brain, though. He was a skeleton. 

He’d have to ask Alphys about that later. 

He thought back again to the dream, to the figure. Was that someone he knew? He couldn’t remember their face– all he remembered was their lab coat. It looked just like their dad’s– or Alphys’, he supposed, but the person was far taller. 

Weird. 

Sans didn’t realize he was moving until his feet hit the ground. He took a few steps from his bed, unsure of what to do, before catching movement in the corner of his eye. He whipped around, preparing himself for whoever was there, whoever had gotten in without him noticing. Whoever was sneaking up on his brother. 

But when his eyes adjusted to the darkness, all he found was his mirror and his shadowy figure in it. 

His breathing evened out– when had it sped up?-- as he gazed into the mirror. 

Briefly, very briefly, Sans’s eyes glowed blue. 

Just to make sure they still could. 

Gazing back at him were two blue specks of light; dim, but strong. 

Sans breathed a sigh of relief as he turned from the mirror, eyes once again going dark. 

Now that he was up, he wasn’t sure what to do. He considered for a moment climbing into Papyrus’s bed– laying with his brother always seemed to calm him down. Looking at Papyrus, though, he realized he couldn’t bring himself to risk waking him up. He looked so happy– and he had been having far too many nightmares recently. He then considered going back to sleep, but that dream had really shaken him up. Sure, he could pass right out, but part of him was too afraid of having that dream again. 

That was when he glanced at the closed door to his and Papyrus’s room. 

Dad was usually up late, right? 

He glanced at the clock: 1:30. Yeah, he was bound to be awake. 

Sans and Papyrus had always gone to sleep far earlier than this, but on the rare occasion that they had shared a bad dream, Papyrus had been quick to drag him to their dad’s room. Dad had never done much for them– usually just told Papyrus that it was only a dream, there was nothing to worry about, and they needed to go back to bed. 

Then Papyrus would ask for a hug, and he would give them one– however awkward it was. 

Maybe that was all Sans needed– someone to tell him he was being silly, someone to tell him he needed to get over it, someone to tell him to go back to sleep. 

Someone to give him an awkward hug and send him on his way. 

It was something at least. 

Before Sans could object, his feet were already taking him to the door. He was already slowly, quietly opening the door. He was already padding down the hallway towards his father's room. 

He was right, there was still dim lamplight coming through the crack under the door. 

He was always the last to go to bed and the first to rise– how much did this guy sleep? Sans couldn’t imagine being awake for that long. 

Sans knocked quietly, but hopefully loud enough that Dad could hear him. 

There was a faint sound of papers shuffling on the other side of the door, then silence.  

Sans waited for a few seconds before realizing how stupid all of this was. It was just a dream, he was fine. He wasn’t hurt, Papyrus wasn’t hurt– everything was fine. Before he could turn to walk away, though, the door opened, revealing his father on the other side. 

He was so much taller than Sans; he was so much taller than both of them, but Sans especially. Sans briefly wondered why he was so small, but was pulled out of his thoughts by his dad’s browbone furrowing, tilting his head. 

“Sans?” His tone was as neutral as ever– but Sans had learned to read it well over the years. There was no anger in his tone. Maybe a bit of irritation, but mostly exhaustion, “Did you need something?” 

Sans paused, considering once again just going back to bed. He could tell his dad he was fine, nothing was wrong, and he probably wouldn’t question it. He was a kid, after all, this is what kids did, right? 

Then the memory of the faceless man in the lab returned. Tall, so much taller than him. So much taller than Papyrus as well, but especially him. 

“uh,” Sans looked at his father. He was still in his clothes from the day– dark pants and his white button-up, though the first couple of buttons had been undone by now. 

He looked… patient, despite the exhaustion. Sans would bet that if he weren’t a skeleton, he would have horrible bags under his eyes at this point. 

“i had a dream,” 

His father, on reflex, opened his mouth– likely to tell him that he was being silly, he needed to go back to bed, it was long past his bedtime. 

But then his mouth closed. He blinked a few more times than was natural, and Sans swore he could see the cogs turning in his mind– brain? No, they were skeletons. 

He seemed to decide to stay quiet, opting instead to open the door a little further and step aside. 

It took Sans longer than he would like to admit to realize he was being invited in. When he finally realized though, he slowly stepped inside. He stopped in the center of the room when he heard his dad shut the door, sitting on the edge of his bed. They stared at each other briefly before Dad patted the bed next to him. 

For a moment Sans felt… afraid. 

They stared at each other, Sans’s eyelights dimming as he considered his options. 

He could still leave. 

But he didn’t. 

Sans climbed into the bed next to his dad. His legs hung over the edge, feet unable to touch the ground. 

They continued to sit in silence, his father vaguely tense next to him. 

His dad– Gaster– had never been the warmest person. He and Sans hadn’t been particularly close in years, not since he realized his dad didn’t really want to be. He took care of them, of course. He fed them, clothed them, and even hugged and held them when they asked, but Sans had started to wonder if he wanted to. If he wanted to be a dad.

He loved them, Sans was sure of it, even if he didn’t tell them that often, but he never seemed to care nearly as much as Asgore or Miss Toriel. 

“Did you want to tell me about this dream of yours?” Dad asked, and when Sans moved to look at him, he was cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt. 

Sans looked at him for a moment, he didn’t look back. 

“it’s hard to explain,” 

Sans looked at the ground. Carpet, not tile. Blue and purple carpet. This room was far from blank. It was cluttered with papers and graphs and blueprints. It was incredibly messy, in fact. The only times it got clean was when Papyrus insisted on helping their dad clean it– he offered to do it himself, but Dad always told him he had a system, and there was no way Papyrus would know where everything goes. Papyrus never understood the system, but he respected it anyway. 

There was a photo of Sans and Papyrus as babies thumbtacked to the wall above his dad’s desk. Sans was pretty sure it was the only photo of them in the house. 

“I’m listening,”

Sans’s head jerked up at the response only to find his dad staring at the ceiling. It didn’t look avoidant, though, like he often did when presented with the emotions of either of them– usually Papyrus’s. He looked tired but comfortable. Like he was content with Sans being there. Like he wanted him there. 

Sans found himself leaning into his dad's side, scooting slightly closer. He wondered why he had been afraid before. This was his dad . He wasn’t the most open or warm parent in the world, but he was always there. He rocked them when they cried as babies, made them their favorite food, and even let Papyrus help sometimes. He held Sans that time he scraped his knee the year before, even though it barely touched his HP. He held him because he was crying, even if he didn’t really need it. 

He loved them, Sans was sure of it. 

His dad responded a moment after Sans leaned in by wrapping his arm around him. It was more awkward than when Miss Toriel did it, but he was getting better. 

He really was getting better. He may not have been cut out for fatherhood, but over the past ten years, he had learned. He let Miss Toriel and Asgore teach him– apparently, they used to be parents, but Sans didn’t know where their kids were now. Maybe they lived in the Dunes, Sans had never been there before. Dad didn’t like it there, he said the sand always got in his skull. 

Sans wondered if other kids thought about if their parents liked being parents.

Probably not. Sans was a weird kid. 

“i was… alone,” Sans started. 

Dad listened. He sat quietly and listened until Sans was done. He told him about the lab, the quiet, and the lasers. He told him about Papyrus, and the figure in the lab coat. He stared ahead and listened– Sans swore he was looking at the picture over his desk with a weird look on his face. It looked almost… guilty. Sans didn’t know why. 

When Sans was done, they sat in silence once again– no, not silence. Quiet. Quiet as the lamp hummed, the wood of their house creaked, and if Sans strained his ears he swore he could hear the refrigerator running downstairs (someone really needed to catch that thing). It was far louder than that empty lab.

Sans’s dad sighed and finally looked down at him. He looked over his face, stared at his features like he was taking him in. He gave him a gentle squeeze before taking his arm back, “Do you want to hear about the project I’m working on?” 

Sans’s eyes lit up, glowing a pale blue, as he nodded. 

From a young age, Sans had taken an interest in Gaster's work. Papyrus had as well, but while Papyrus just cared that it was Dad doing it, Sans cared about what it was. Aunt Alphys had taken to calling Sans his dad’s little assistant when they “helped” him work– a title Papyrus was very envious of, though he would never admit it. 

Gaster went to his desk, pulling out the blueprints for his latest project to further complicate the layout of The Core, and talked, answering his son's questions, until Sans finally found sleep again. 

If Sans was really awake while his dad carried him to bed, savoring the feeling of being held like he had when he was younger again, Gaster would never know. 

And if Gaster dreamt of tests, drills, and the sound of his two favorite kids in the underground screaming for help while he hurt them…

Well, the boys never had to know. 

***

1-S was outside. 

At least, he thought it was outside. There was this white powder coating the ground in a thick sheet, and what he was pretty sure were trees surrounding him. It was bright, too. Far brighter than the lab had ever been. 

His brother was there, too. 

They weren’t wearing the gowns that He gave them, they were wearing clothes. Real monster clothes like He wore, only very different. 1-S had a blue and purple striped… something over his rib cage, and his brother had a red and yellow one. 

2-P picked up some of the powder and threw it at 1-S, who just fell over laughing. Really laughing. 

They both stood, though, as a figure approached. The figure was tall, wearing clothes like He wore. Tall like Him. Rather than backing away, though, 2-P ran toward the figure with his arms wide before tackling them with a hug. 

The figure didn’t push him away, didn’t flinch, didn’t grab him with blue magic to keep him away. They let him hug them, and a moment later, hugged him back. 

Then, 1-S joined him. The figure held them both, and they looked happy. Really happy. 

1-S’s eyes began to glow. 

Both of them. 

1-S groaned as the lights found their way into his sockets, forcing him awake. He hated those lights, even if they were dimmer than the ones in that dream. Still, compared to how pitch black everything was when they were off, they were too damn bright. 

As 1-S opened his eyes, he looked over to find his brother staring at him. \

“BROTHER! YOU’RE AWAKE!” 

1-S's smile grew a little wider than the one permanently plastered to his face, “yup,” 

“I HAD THE WEIRDEST DREAM, AND I JUST COULDN’T GO BACK TO SLEEP FROM IT. I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO WAKE UP-”

2-P continued to tell his brother all about the monster he saw in his dream– all bones and goo. 1-S listened to every word, soaking in his brother's presence. 

That is until they heard footsteps. His footsteps.

They both went quiet as He approached.

When He came face to face with their cell, they stared up at Him in silence for a moment. 2-P, with his consistent glimmer of hope, of kindness, of fear– and 1-S, with his consistent suspicion. He put his hand on the sensor, and the lasers retracted with a dull electric hum. 

“1-S, come with me,” 

1-S let out a sigh of relief as he was chosen, as he always did when he knew his brother would be safe, at least for a little while. 

After another moment of staring, 1-S got up to follow Him, giving his brother one last tense smile as he left. 

“GOODBYE,”

“bye.”

Once 1-S was out of the cell, He turned the beams back on and started toward their usual test room. They walked in silence, as usual, until 1-S uncharacteristically spoke up. 

“i had a dream last night,” he started. 

He, as expected, gave 1-S no response. He only stared ahead as he continued down the hall. 

“we were outside, ” 1-S stared at Him, trying to gauge a response, “my bro and i, i mean. you weren’t there,” 

Once again, He gave 1-S no response. 

“‘course, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s not a vision. i know we’re not gettin’ out of here,” 

Still, no response. 

1-S sighed, “it was weird, though. there was this white stuff everywhere– the ground, the trees, everywhere,” 1-S kept searching for a reaction, but was given none, “my brother threw some of it at me. he seemed happy,” 

They rounded a corner into the usual testing room– looked like it was just an IQ test that day. Thank God. 1-S climbed into his chair immediately as He started shuffling through some papers on a nearby desk. 

“i’m sure you’ll hate to hear this, but i looked happy too. then someone walked over, and we hugged them. they looked about as tall as you,” 1-S looked Him up and down, checking his height, as He sat down with a few papers, laying one down in front of him. “‘course, i know it couldn’t have been you. you could never be so… warm,”

They stared at each other for a moment– He looked at stone-faced as ever. 

“anyway,” 1-S continued, breaking their eye contact, “i don’t usually have dreams like that, where we’re happy, so i thought i’d let you know– i dunno, maybe you can put it in your notes, or even try feelin’ guilty about it. whatever works for you,” 1-S finished dryly. 

They sat in silence for another moment, neither looking at each other. He reordered some of the papers attached to his clipboard as 1-S fidgeted with his hands under the table. 

“Snow,” He finally replied. 

“huh?” 

“The ‘white stuff’,” He glanced up, meeting 1-S’s eyes, “It’s called snow,” 

Chapter Text

Gaster was alone.

Wait… no he wasn’t. 

He was in the void, he was supposed to be alone. 

But, when he looked down, he saw his smaller son on his hip, looking up at him with all the trust in the world. 

His other son was by his side, hand clutching his as tightly as bones could. 

He couldn’t carry Papyrus anymore, not like he could carry Sans. He wasn’t too heavy– he would likely never get too heavy, skeletons were very light monsters– he was just too big for Gaster to hold comfortably. 

Toriel and Asgore, however, could carry him all he liked, and likely would until he wouldn’t let them anymore. That seemed to be enough for Papyrus. 

He suddenly became aware of even more figures, several yards away. 

He looked up, spotting… himself. 

Himself, in his labcoat, and that dark grey sweater he used to like so much. 

Then, he saw Sans. Instead of being on His hip, though, he was in the air a few feet away from Himself, carried by blue magic. 

He had carried his sons with blue magic all the time growing up– it was often necessary to keep young skeletons from hurting themselves. Both of his sons were used to it, like a cat carried by the scruff of its neck– why did Sans look so afraid, curled in a fetal position?

On His other side, Papyrus stood, clutching a magical blue hand like his life depended on it– he had that ever-familiar glimmer of hope in his eyes, but it seemed to have lost all of its joy, replacing it with that same fear he saw in Sans’s eyes. 

They both wore hospital gowns– why hospital gowns? Were they alright, had they been hurt?

Gaster finally looked himself in the eyes. 

He was greeted with the same horror he was sure was evident on his own face, though there was too much regret in His eyes for comfort. 

Gaster shot up in bed as the blaring of his alarm found him. He drew a few deep breaths as he took inventory of his surroundings– bed, quilt, alarm, cell phone, desk, messy floor. 

He really needed to let Papyrus help him clean soon. 

His good eye fell closed as he rubbed his forehead, sighing as he recalled the dream. 

It was now the seventh night in a row that he had that same dream, that same other version of him and his sons. The dreams had started when Sans came to him with that nightmare and had refused to stop. He hadn’t had recurring dreams like this in decades, not since his dreams of the war stopped. 

Well, mostly stopped. They still occurred from time to time, but they had gotten progressively rarer over a few hundred years. 

Gaster opened his good eye again, glancing at his desk. His gaze landed on the bottom drawer, his messy version of a filing cabinet. 

He had been avoiding it for years. 

It. 

He promised himself he would never look at it again, never start it. He kept his files for documentation purposes only. 

That’s it. Documentation. 

Something inside of him told him he needed to start again, though. Restart the research and do the experiment he had set aside for years. 

Something inside of him had been saying this for weeks, and he was finally listening. 

Nobody had to know. It would be another one of his solo projects, they would only find out if it worked, if it went well. 

Just like how nobody had to know about the project he had failed ten years ago. 

At least, they didn’t need the details. 

Gaster pushed himself out of his bed, fighting the urge to back down, give up, and remember the reason he put this project down to begin with. 

He pushed forward, pulling the drawer open, and digging until he found the notebook at the bottom of the drawer. His personal notes– everything else would be at the lab. 

IDF

Inter-Dimensional Fatigue. 

He stared at the cover of the composition notebook– DO NOT ATTEMPT

A warning to himself. 

He ignored it. 

Gaster shoved the notebook into his bag before getting dressed and heading downstairs, urging himself to forget about it until he got to the lab. 

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted by the sound of bustling in the kitchen, and a familiar voice humming as she worked. Gaster briefly wondered how much she slept, as he had never managed to slip out before she got to his home. 

“Lady Toriel,” He greeted as he stood in the doorway to the kitchen. 

He didn’t bother to sign as she was facing away, but it didn’t seem to matter. Over the years, she had become very well acquainted with the sound of her name in his font. She dropped her spatula on the counter before turning to face him. 

“Gaster!” She exclaimed as she always did, rushing forward to embrace him in a hug. 

They did this every day, it was a wonder she never got bored of this routine. 

Then again, after all those years without her, he wasn’t sure he ever would either. 

“Good morning, my child,” She greeted as she pulled away, holding him an arm's length away, searching his face for something he couldn’t quite name, “I trust you slept well?” 

He returned her smile, finding it to be more genuine than he expected, “About as well as usual, ” He signed with his real hands, “ And you?”

“Yes, yes,” She replied with a wave and she pushed away, opening the refrigerator, “Are you off to work now?” She asked as she pulled out a paper bag labeled “Gaster” with a neatly drawn heart next to it. 

He started to sign that Yes, he was leaving now, that he wouldn’t be home until late, and that he would hopefully see her when he returned. 

But he hesitated, and so did she, watching him intently as she closed the refrigerator door. 

He recalled the dream, his boys, and the notebook that was currently weighing his bag down more than a notebook should. 

He sighed, forcing another smile onto his face, “In a moment, yes, ” He began, and Toriel nodded as she handed him the bag, “But I thought I’d say hello to the boys before I left,”

She froze in her tracks on her way back to the counter, but before Gaster could ask what was wrong, she turned around with a massive grin on her face, “Oh that's wonderful! What a good idea, I’m sure they'd love that,” She looked at him for another moment before turning back to her cooking, “I was actually getting ready to wake them up, breakfast is almost ready. Would you be a dear and fetch them for me?” 

Gaster summoned his hands a few feet from her face, so she could see him sign, “Of course,” he replied as he turned to make his way up the stairs. 

“Actually,” Toriel started, causing Gaster to stop in his tracks, “You know, I have a habit of cooking extra that, after all these years, I just haven’t been able to break. The boys and I just never manage to eat it all,” Gaster turned his head slightly to watch her, unsure exactly where she was going with this, “All that to say, if you happen to have a bit of extra time this morning, I’m sure the boys would really love for you to join us at the table,” 

He hesitated for a moment, but she continued before he could refuse, “I’m sure your stomach would thank you,” 

A small smile found it’s way to his face as he let out a light chuckle, “You know I don’t have a stomach, Toriel,” 

Her smile only grew, “Well you have an appetite, so I’m sure something will thank you,” 

He couldn’t help but laugh a little harder at that. 

He had work to do. 

Then again, though, nothing was actively breaking that he knew of, and if anything happened, Alphys would tell him as soon as possible– besides, despite her confidence issues, Alphys was more than competent enough to handle herself for a little while. 

All of his projects could wait. There was nothing urgent. 

Certainly not the notebook burning a hole in his bag as he leaned it against the doorframe. 

It would only be a half hour. He would text Alphys and tell her that he would be late. 

Everything could wait. 

That same something inside him told him it needed to wait. Just a little while longer. 

“Of course,” He signed with a sigh and a small smile he reserved for very few. 

Toriel gave him a smile back so wide he swore it would split her face right in half. “Atta boy, now go get the kids,” 

He turned and made his way up the stairs without a second look, a warm feeling spreading through his bones that had become far more common as the years went by. 

He was afraid for far too long that he had made the wrong choice, that he had failed them all by canceling the project, that he should have been stronger for the sake of all of monsterkind. 

But when he thought about Toriel, Asgore, and his boys, he couldn’t help but know that he had made the right choice. He had a family, his family. 

Even if they never made it out of this prison, he couldn’t help but feel like everything could be okay. 

He cracked the door open to his boy's bedroom, watching the light from the hallway flood the dark room. They looked so happy, so peaceful– so much like he had at their age. 

“Sans, Papyrus, it’s time to wake up,” He called from the doorway, just above his usual volume. 

As if on cue, Papyrus shot up into a seated position– he had always been a light sleeper, but it would never stop being unsettling. 

“DAD?” he called back, the most subtle hints of sleep in his voice, “GOOD MORNING! ARE YOU STAYING HOME WITH US TODAY?” 

Gaster only shook his head in response, earning a sad groan from his son, “I will be joining you three for breakfast today, though. Miss Toriel almost has it ready,” 

Toriel had always insisted that it was perfectly fine if the kids just called Toriel, they never had to add an honorific, but for some reason, the idea had always unsettled Gaster– even if he allowed it for Asgore. 

A grin spread across Papyrus’s face as he perked back up, “OH, YAY!” He said, louder than appropriate, as he climbed out of the racecar bed Undyne had found for him in the dump and rushed to the dresser.

Despite the light filling the room as Papyrus clicked on their lamp, along with his oversized voice, Sans remained just as peaceful in his sleep. 

Somehow those two were on the exact opposite sides of the sleep spectrum. How did he end up with the world's lightest and heaviest sleepers? 

He couldn’t help but let that smile creep across his face as he approached his son’s bed. As he got closer he noticed the light but extremely present blue glow coming from his son’s closed eyesockets. He sat on the side of the bed, keenly aware of Papyrus paused on the other side of the room, curiously watching them, but elected not to acknowledge him. 

Part of him dreaded waking Sans up– he looked so happy. 

But it was time to wake up, so he laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Sans stirred for a moment at the contact, but otherwise stayed sound asleep. 

“Sans,” 

There was no response, only the flicker of blue, glowing stronger at the sound. 

“Sans, it’s time to get up,” He repeated, slightly louder. 

This time, in response, Sans let out a little groan, shifting once again, and the lights in his eyes went out. Now he was getting somewhere. 

Gaster finally stiffened his grip on his son’s shoulder, giving it a little shake. 

At last, Sans’s right eye cracked open a notch, and he groaned again, “dad?” 

“It’s time to get up, Sans,” Gaster repeated, “Toriel almost has breakfast ready,” 

Sans blinked a few times until his eyes were sitting comfortably open, his eyelights gradually growing as he stared at Gaster. 

That is, until he turned on his side and grumbled “five more minutes,” 

Gaster let out an exasperated sigh, looking to Papyrus, a silent question on his face. 

Papyrus only smiled and nodded, now fully dressed, as Gaster stood and walked though the doorway. 

The last thing he heard as he closed their door was the noise of two small skeletons with wildly different energy levels bickering, but he swore it was the nicest thing he had heard in centuries. 

Gaster found his way back into his kitchen and sat in comfortable silence at his spot at the dinner table, where Toriel had already laid a cup of coffee for him. She made it perfectly– she always did, ever since he learned to like it (even if it had been mostly cream and sugar for a while).

After a few minutes of Toriel and Gaster just soaking in each other's company, the boys– his boys– came rushing down the stairs. 

Or, Papyrus came rushing down the stairs, while Sans drudged along behind him at a snail's pace. When he made his way into the kitchen, Papyrus rushed forward to hug Gaster– a hug that Gaster tried his best to return but was made awkward by being seated. When he was satisfied with Gaster's hug, he launched himself into Toriels arms as well, while Sans climbed into his designated seat with several books stacked high enough for him to reach the table. 

They had a lovely breakfast, one that mostly consisted of Papyrus telling Gaster everything he was learning in school despite having already told him several times, and Toriel and Sans passing jokes under their breaths. 

Gaster never thought that having children would feel normal, and on some level, it didn’t. It wasn’t natural to him, he had never wanted children, and even if he did he hadn’t thought it was in the cards for him for centuries. 

There was something about sitting there with his surrogate mother and two kids, though, that felt incredible. 

He watched the boys as they chattered and instinctually knew he had never deserved them, but for whatever reason had been blessed with them anyway. 

When Gaster stood to leave, Papyrus launched himself into another tight hug. This time, however, Sans joined– a light pressure added to the embrace. 

Papyrus had always craved affection far more than any monster Gaster had ever known– then again, he had made it a point to avoid children like the plague until a few years ago, so he didn’t have much data to compare him with. He had craved physical touch– to be hugged, held, and loved– since he was an infant. Sans liked physical affection as well and sought it out on occasion, but never to the extent of Papyrus. 

When the boys were younger, it irritated him to no end. The King and Queen had to all but force him to hold them, which he only did to appease them and quiet the boys. 

Over the years, however, Gaster had grown much more tolerant of it. 

One might go so far as to say that he had grown to like it as well. 

When they finally released him from their embrace, Gaster approached the door, signing goodbyes to Toriel and the boys. To his surprise, however, Toriel slipped out of the door behind him, instructing the boys to get to work on a puzzle they had started the night before. 

“ Everything alright? ” Gaster signed with his extra hands as he finished shrugging on his jacket. 

“Oh yes, dear, of course,” She smiled warmly, “I just wanted to tell you something,” 

He only tilted his head in response, turning to face her fully. 

She stared at him for another second, just observing him, before she started again, “I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you,” 

Gaster’s good eye widened as what she said landed on him, “ I’m sorry? ”

She laid a hand on his shoulder, “I know fatherhood hasn’t been easy for you, dear, but you’ve been doing so well,” she lightly squeezed his shoulder, and he knew that there was a light yellow glow in his eyes despite his attempt at extinguishing it, “Those boys adore you, and I think they know that you love them as well. You’ve adapted to this role far better than you thought you would,” 

He allowed a smile to stretch across his face, “ Thank you, my lady- ”

His signing was cut off by Toriel pulling him into his fifth hug of the morning, muttering, “I always knew you could do it, my child. I’ve never been prouder,” 

As she held him close to her chest, he allowed his eyes to burn bright, hints of green finding their way to the glow. 

After a long, quiet embrace, Toriel finally pulled back, holding him once again at arm's length– taking in every inch of his face as if it would be the last time she ever saw him again. 

“I do hope you have a good day at the lab,” She said finally, her grip on his shoulders loosening. 

He nodded, summoning his magic hands next to his head as he fidgeted with the handle of his bag, “ As do I, I hope to see you this evening, ” He paused before continuing, “ I might be home rather late tonight. I’m… starting a new project, ”

She raised her eyebrows at the vague attempt at conversation but seemed to let it slide, “Alright, then. I’ll make sure to leave you a plate in the fridge to heat up,” 

He only nodded, finally stepping out of Toriel’s hold and turning to leave. 

As he took a step, he felt a sense of dread wash over him, remembering the extra weight in his bag. He couldn’t for the life of him decide why– it was just research, an old experiment he might attempt. Thats all. 

For whatever reason, however, as Toriel slipped inside the house with a farewell and a smile, he felt utterly terrified of what he was walking into. 

He walked anyway . 

Somewhere else, on the other side of the multiverse, another Gaster woke with a start. 

Another Gaster’s eyes landed on the bottom-most drawer of His desk. 

Another Gaster opened something He promised Himself He would never touch again. 

Another Gaster walked down the stairs of an empty house, made Himself coffee, and left for the lab on time with an empty stomach. 

Another Gaster dreamt of void, of Himself and His test subjects, and another version of Himself doing something that shocked Him to His core. 

Another Gaster wondered what He was walking into, and another Gaster walked anyway.

Chapter Text

The goal of the experiment was to open a window to an alternate timeline. Which one, he had no idea– whichever one had a weak link to his own. He had no way of calibrating which one, not yet at least. That was why he only wanted a window– only wanted to look. 

He hadn’t planned on going forward with the experiment for another several weeks– not until he had done enough updated research and was sure he had the proper materials. 

But when he started up his IDF readers and they showed that the “wall” was at an all-time low, he knew he couldn’t waste time. In all of the time he had been researching this, the numbers had never been that low, not even close, and there was no guarantee they ever would be again. 

Of course, he did his due diligence, rebooting the program several times and going through every protocol to ensure it was still working properly. 

But nothing ever showed anything was wrong with the program. 

So after a few hours of preparation, he started his procedures. 

If his calculations were correct, the experiment would open a window in the testing chamber to look through and see another timeline– just look.

Of course, he had looked into the potential of interacting with timelines, but that was far down the line. Now, he just had to make sure his theory was correct. 

But the experiment hadn’t worked. 

At least, he didn’t think it did. 

He was quite sure, in fact, that it hadn’t done anything. 

The last thing he remembered was turning it on and watching a small, black slit begin to grow in the middle of the room– as if something was unzipping it. 

He really thought it was working. 

But now, he was waking up on the ground, completely unsure of how much time had passed and what had happened, in an empty test chamber. An empty test chamber that certainly did not have a window to another dimension. 

When he pushed himself off the ground and dusted himself off he saw that all of the controls were switched off. 

Odd. He didn’t remember doing that. 

How long had he been out for? 

He gave them another once-over to ensure they were all deactivated before sighing and stepping out of the chamber, closing it with his magical signature before making the short walk to his office. 

The hall was darker than he remembered. 

When he got to his office, he saw that it was far messier than he remembered leaving it. 

He kept his stuff messy, but not this messy. 

Had Alphys been here while he was gone? That was the most likely answer, but she had always been extremely respectful of his belongings. 

Front and center on his desk were two files, labeled in his handwriting. Not only his handwriting, but his font. 

He never wrote in his font on official documents, Alphys would take far too long to decipher them, and it was only slightly more work on his end. 

The first one was labeled 1-S , the second 2-P . 

Before he could really process how strange that was, his attention was drawn to movement on his computer monitor– he swore he turned that off before he went to the chamber. 

When he looked, however, he was greeted with what looked like a surveillance feed. Surveillance of a very small room. 

Surveillance of a very small room with two even smaller figures in it. 

Two small figures that looked awfully like–

Oh god. 

Oh God.

Before he could consider his next action, he was sprinting out of his office and down the hall. He didn’t know where he was going, but he trusted his intuition to take him where he needed to go.

It looked like his intuition was correct. 

He finally stopped at the end of a hallway– a hallway that had an empty doorframe filled with bright blue laser beams. He paused before he was close enough to see inside, dreading what he already knew would greet him. 

He waited for a long, tense moment, staring at the doorway. He could have sworn it was staring back at him. 

Finally, he took slow steps toward it. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Finally, he looked through the door. 

He was greeted by Sans, his son, staring back at him. 

Only one of his eyes glowed bright blue, flooding the room with weak light. 

The experiment had worked. 

It had worked. 

It had worked far better than he ever could have hoped– far better than he had wanted. 

He stared at Sans for a long time. There was an emotion in Sans’s gaze that he couldn’t quite place– he had never been the best with reading others, and Sans was always a particularly hard nut to crack. 

It was never this hard, though. 

When he finally broke out of their eye contact, his gaze flicked to the magical signature pad by the door. 

They were trapped in there. Why were they trapped? 

Had he trapped them? If he had switched places with himself, then he had to have. 

His memory jumped back to Sans’s dream. 

Alone, in a small room, trapped by lasers. 

Trapped by a man in a lab coat, as big as Gaster. 

What had he done to them? 

…

Had he never canceled the project?

Gaster had never intended for his creations to be real, to be sentient, to be people . When they turned into skeletons, sure, he hesitated to cancel the project, but when Papyrus had used his tiny hand to latch onto Gaster's finger, he knew there was no way he could go through with it. 

Horror flooded his bones as he imagined doing what he had planned to real, living skeletons. 

He had to get them out of here. That was the only thought in his mind as he pressed his hand into the pad. 

Three little lights lit up, one by one. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

The lasers turned off. 

He had to get them out. He had to get them home, to a comfortable bed– they had no bed. They were sitting on a bench in an empty room. 

How heartless had he been? Was he really capable of this? 

To his own boys? 

Did anybody know they were down here? Did anybody know they existed ? 

Surely not. Surely Asgore wouldn’t have allowed this. 

Surely Toriel …

Once his feet seemed to catch up with his mind, Gaster was moving. He didn’t seem to notice Sans flinch until he was only a few feet away. 

Sans was sitting upright on the bench, cradling Papyrus’s head in his lap. Papyrus was fast asleep– his usual content orange glow absent. Sans held him a little tighter as Gaster raised his hands in what he hoped would be interpreted as a truce. 

“It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you,” Gaster finally said as Sans tilted his head, his stare hard and critical. 

“huh?” Sans finally replied, eyes narrowing. 

That was odd. 

Gaster understood him perfectly, but he knew other monsters would not. He was speaking in Wingdings. 

Sans and Papyrus had always understood Wingdings, as all skeletons did, but they very rarely spoke in it– favoring their own fonts. Why was Sans using it now?

Gaster pushed the thought aside as he continued, “I promise,” He crouched down so that Sans was above him, “I won’t hurt you– either of you. If that is what you’re afraid of,” 

Sans did not reply as Gaster searched his face, searching for a sign of what he was thinking. He found none, only a hard, dark stare as Sans’s glow slowly went out. 

Gaster glanced between Sans and Papyrus, “Can you wake up your brother?” 

He would do it himself, but he got the clear impression that Sans didn’t really want anyone coming near him. 

“why? ” Sans finally replied– yes, that was certainly Wingdings, “you got more tests?” 

Gaster opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat as he processed the question.

What kind of tests were these boys used to? 

“No,” Gaster replied, “No tests.” There was another tense pause between them before Gaster spoke again, “I promise.” 

He had no idea if a promise meant anything to this Sans, but he had to try. 

“then why?” Sans’s browbone furrowed, “i just got ‘im back to sleep after you made that racket earlier.” 

Gaster filed that comment away to consider later– the important thing right now was getting them out of here; he could figure everything out later. 

“We’re leaving,” He blurted out, far less gracefully than he intended. 

Sans’s eyes somehow narrowed even more, “what?” 

“We’re leaving,” Gaster tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he couldn’t quite manage it, “I’m taking you two out of here.” 

There was another long, tense moment, before Sans gave a dry, humorless laugh, “yeah, right. what kind of screwed-up test is this?” 

Gaster sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Sans, it is not a test, we are leaving.” 

Sans paused, his expression completely falling, “what?” 

“I told you, it is not a test-” 

“no, not that,” Sans interrupted, confusion filling his features, “what did you just call me?” 

Gaster blinked a few times before responding, “Sans?” 

“yeah, that, ” Sans raised a hand to point accusingly, “whats that?” 

Gaster’s browbone furrowed as he answered, “Your name?”, more of a question than an answer. 

“my name?” 

Gaster only nodded in response.

“i don’t have a name,” Sans gave him that hard glare once again. 

“Wha-” He started, confusion building in him, “Of course you do, it’s Sans. Your name is-” 

“things don’t have names,” Sans interrupted, just louder than before. 

Apparently, it was loud enough, as Papyrus groaned and blinked his eyes open, just as Sans had done in his warm, comfortable bed just that morning. 

Gaster paid him no mind, too caught in his own thoughts– Sans seemed to do the same. 

What did he mean, things? He was a person, a skeleton– his son. 

He thought back to the original point of the project– to create living, nonsentient vessels. 

Things . 

“SANS? WHAT’S GOING ON?” Papyrus asked, pulling Gaster out of his thoughts just enough to finally speak. 

He did not address Papyrus, though. 

“My name,” He started, trying to get his bearing back, “is Wingdings Gaster– but I am called Gaster, as the eldest of my family,” He was not quite sure where the introduction was coming from, but something told him it was necessary, “ Your name is Comic Sans Gaster, but you are called Sans,” 

Finally, both his and Sans’s eyes were drawn to Papyrus as he bolted into a seated position, “OH! DO I HAVE A NAME?” He stared at Gaster intently, far easier to read than his brother, “WHAT’S MY NAME?” 

Gaster paused, everything in him relaxing just slightly as he looked at the familiar sight of his excited son, “Papyrus. Papyrus Gaster,” 

Papyrus stared in silence for a moment, jaw dropped so far Gaster swore it would pop right off. Finally, he repeated it quietly to himself a few times, before turning to Sans, “BROTHER, DID YOU HEAR THAT? MY NAME IS PAPYRUS!” 

“yeah, i heard it, bro,” Sans replied, gaze set intently on Gaster. 

Gaster stood to his full height once again, backing toward the doorframe, “Please, boys, come with me.” 

The joy on Papyrus’s face all but disappeared as his expression scrunched up, “I THOUGHT WE WERE DONE WITH TESTS TODAY. DO YOU HAVE ANOTHER ONE?”

“he said we ain’t doin’ a test,” Gaster sensed a vague challenge in Sans’s tone. 

That glimmer of hope sparked in Papyrus’s eye– that oh-so-familiar look, joy finding its way into the cracks, “REALLY?” he asked, rapidly looking between Sans and Gaster. 

“Yes, Papyrus, no more tests,” Gaster tried to look reassuring, if only for Sans’s sake. He wasn’t sure if it worked, “You’re done with tests.” 

Papyrus tilted his head, eyes now locked on Gaster– he swore he could see a deep green beginning to alight in his sockets, “REALLY?” he repeated. 

“Yes,” Gaster took a deep breath, “Forever,” 

Papyrus let out the loudest squeal of delight Gaster had ever heard from him, and Gaster swore he had never seen him happier– not even when Toriel had praised his attempts at cooking, or Gaster had allowed him to design a puzzle for The Core. 

That puzzle was far better than Gaster had expected it to be, he barely had to edit it before giving it to the puzzle builders. That was the day Gaster realized how clever Papyrus really was, that his mind did just work differently from his and Sans’s. It was the day that Gaster finally figured out what Toriel had been scolding him about all those years. 

Papyrus pulled Gaster out of his thoughts by rushing forward, stopping just short of throwing his arms around him. 

If someone had told Gaster a few years ago that that sight would break his heart, he would have laughed at them. 

Gaster opened his arms, an offer. 

Papyrus didn’t need anything more, seeing it for what it was. He launched forward, holding Gaster like he was the most important thing in the world, like letting go would make him change his mind. 

“OH I KNEW IT, ” Papyrus mumbled into his shirt, “I KNEW YOU COULD BE GOOD,” 

Gaster sighed, holding Papyrus back. 

He really needed to figure out exactly what these boys had been through. 

Gaster’s eye landed on Sans, still sitting on the bench, still staring at him. Gaster finally figured out what the emotion behind his eyes was– confusion, suspicion, and fear. 

At least, that was what Gaster could place. He was sure there was more. 

One thing he did know, however, was that there was nothing positive in his gaze– none of the joy or hope that Papyrus had held. 

He once again tried to smile, failing again– all he managed was a sad look before looking back down at Papyrus, fondness flooding him. 

He let Papyrus hold him for as long as he wanted. From the little he had seen of this new world, he had a feeling that Papyrus needed it. 

Almost as much as Gaster did. 

When Papyrus finally pulled away, Gaster offered him his hand– an offer he once again quickly took advantage of. Gaster gave the same offer to Sans but was refused with a sharp glare. Papyrus began to scold Sans for the response, for the refusal, but Gaster stopped him. 

“No, Papyrus, it’s okay. If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to,” 

There was a brief, tense pause before Gaster continued. 

“But please, hold your brother's hand,” Gaster pleaded, finally succeeding at a very small, very weak smile.

After another long, tense staring contest between the two skeletons, Sans finally relented, getting up from the bench and warily approaching to take his brother's hand. 

Slowly, he led them down the halls of the lab, back the way he came. Halfway down the corridor, Gaster’s attention was finally drawn to something– something he should have noticed the moment he took Papyrus’s hand, but had been too overwhelmed to acknowledge, 

There was a piece of metal on his hand. 

He paused, stopping in the middle of the hall, drawing both of the boy’s concerned attention. 

He turned his head, looking down at where his and Papyrus’s hands were, before lifting his hand up to get a better look. 

It was definitely metal. 

As he observed the metal– the plate , he first noticed the screws. It was screwed into his hand. 

He then noticed the engraving. 

WDG2-P

WDG– without a doubt, he knew they were his initials; it was not uncommon for him to label his projects that way. 

2-P

P– Papyrus. 

That told him 2 things about this world. 

1. This version of himself had named the boys, he had obviously named them if their labels, P and S, correspond to their names in his world. 
2. Not only had he named them, he also knew their fonts. One way or another, he had figured out their fonts without ever exposing the boys to them and had made the active choice to keep them from them, to deny them any semblance of their skeletal heritage. 

He wanted to say he couldn’t imagine doing that, but thinking back to who he had been before the boys, and how far he had spiraled, he knew it would be a lie. 

He had done this, there was no doubt about it– now he just had to figure out how to fix it before he found a way back home. 

He finally put their hands back at his side and kept walking, trying to ignore the confused stares that he could feel boring into his skull. 

Before he could take them out the door of the lab, he stopped in his office, the door wide open where he had rushed out previously. 

He dropped Papyrus’s hand as he stepped into the office, glancing at the clock. 

12:25 AM

Damn, he had been out for a while. 

At least he would be able to get through the underground relatively undetected– it was a long way to go with two new members of your near-extinct species in the middle of the day. Alphys would have gone home hours ago as well, even if Gaster had never officially dismissed her. 

Gaster draped his labcoat on the back of his desk chair and pulled on his jacket before grabbing his bag. 

Before he could turn around and walk out, those files drew his attention once again. 

1-S

2-P

1-Sans

2-Papyrus

After a moment of consideration, Gaster grabbed them, shoving them into his bag just as he had done with the notebook that morning. 

They were thick, heavy, as if they were filled with years' worth of notes. 

Gaster was afraid that they were. 

He finally turned back to look at the boys, finding Papyrus looking around at the office in wonder, as if he had never seen it before, and Sans staring pointedly at something. 

When he followed Sans’s gaze, he found the still powered-on computer monitor, now displaying surveillance footage of a small, empty room, completely devoid of skeletons. 

Sans’s eyes were pitch black, a sight Gaster had almost never seen before. 

“so that's how you always knew,” Sans did not take his eyes away from the monitor– at least, Gaster didn’t think he did, but without his pupils it was hard to say for certain. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“you were watchin’ us that whole time. that's how you knew.” 

Gaster looked back to the monitor, taking a deep breath. He still wasn’t quite aware of what Sans was referring to, but he had enough data to estimate. 

“I suppose so, yes,” 

Sans’s gaze whipped back to Gaster, suspicion growing with every second that Gaster did not explain himself. 

Gaster wanted desperately to explain himself, even if he didn’t know how. 

Instead, he reached out and pressed the monitor's power button, watching it go black, and stepped forward to flip off the light. He once again offered a hand to Papyrus and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

He didn’t bother to lock it– he was sure this version of him had plenty of things to hide, but Gaster was done with secrets. 

“UM ,” Papyrus started, drawing Gaster’s attention, “UH, GASTER?” 

Gaster blinked– hearing his name from his son was odd, but he didn’t quite think it was appropriate to expect them to see him as a father, not after whatever had happened to them. “Yes, Papyrus?” 

“WHERE ARE WE, UM, GOING?” 

Gaster relaxed as he was posed a question he could answer confidently. 

“We’re going home,” 

Gaster watched as, once again, that overwhelming joy crossed Papyrus’s face as he stifled another squeal of delight. When Gaster started walking again, Papyrus was practically vibrating, giving quiet I-told-you-so’s to a silent Sans. 

Gaster opened the door to the rest of the lab with his magical signature– the door that used to open automatically when somebody approached. 

The door that he had removed the magical signature pad from years ago, when Alphys had expressed that she needed more space for a project, and Gaster happened to have plenty of unused space in his personal lab. Space that clearly wasn’t unused anymore. 

Thankfully, the River Person was available when Gaster left the lab– they always seemed to be available, waiting right where you needed them, and if they weren’t, it was never long before they arrived. He had always wondered when they slept, but every time he asked, they brushed him off with a cryptic comment and changed the subject. 

He couldn’t blame them; he loved a good mystery, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. He had been trying to figure out their deal since they showed up in that boat several centuries ago, and he hadn’t gotten so much as their name. 

The ride to Snowdin Town was mostly quiet, excluding the short, odd small talk that the River Person shared with Gaster. Papyrus opened his mouth to ask several questions, and Gaster was more than prepared to try to answer them, but they all seemed to die in his throat, as if he was afraid of asking too many. Gaster decided not to press, if not for Papyrus’s comfort, then for his. 

When they finally made their way into town, Gaster rushed the boys quietly to his house. He knew, logically, that nobody would be awake to notice them– but that didn’t stop him from being afraid that a straggler would be out, a random teen that had snuck out of the house, or a dog on guard duty. 

He got lucky, though, only passing the ice wolf, who was too distracted by his work to notice them.

Gaster felt a rush of relief as he looked around– Snowdin Town and the River Person were exactly as he remembered them. This world was, thankfully, extremely similar to his own, and if that was true, then he knew he would be able to handle talking to Asgore. 

The house was dark when he got inside, and when he flipped on the light, it didn’t look terribly different– only messier. It was clear what the last several years had done to this version of Gaster as he looked at the papers strewn across the coffee table and couch, the vacuum gathering dust in the corner, and the dishes piled high in the sink. 

Gaster sighed as he led the boys upstairs, leading them to their bedroom. 

He realized as he opened the door, though, that this version of Gaster lived alone– of course, the spare room wasn’t a children's bedroom. He glanced inside, seeing boxes piled to the ceiling. He had a feeling he knew what was in those boxes, he had cleared them out ten years ago. 

That didn’t make getting rid of them now any easier– and it certainly didn’t make children's beds appear out of nowhere. 

He instead closed the door and led them to the next best thing– his room.

“This is where you will be sleeping for the time being,” Gaster announced as he flipped on his desk lamp. This room was the messiest of them all, clothes and work strewn all over the floor. He had never been the best at keeping his room tidy, but come on, he wasn’t this bad. 

“THIS IS A VERY NICE CELL,” Papyrus said, seemingly unfazed by the mess– the clearest difference he had seen by far. 

“Oh, uh,” Gaster stuttered, “it is not a cell, it’s a bedroom, where people sleep.” He gestured to the bed. “That is a bed.” 

Papyrus stared at the bed– and the rest of the room– in awe, while Sans kept his gaze trained on Gaster, where it had been since they left. 

“You sleep in the bed,” Gaster explained, patting the bed once he had approached. 

Papyrus, after a moment of hesitation, climbed into the bed, unsure of what to do next. Gaster considered tucking him in– that was what Toriel would do, right? But Sans seemed far too apprehensive, stuck to the ground as if he had taken root. 

Gaster instead moved to pick up any potential hazards from the ground before shoving them into his closet. “I will be asleep on the couch downstairs if you need anything,” Gaster announced as he worked. He looked back at the boys when he was done, finding that same fear and apprehension as before, “You are not trapped in here, you have free rein of the house, if you like.” He gestured toward the door as he approached it, standing in the doorway. They only continued to stare, rooted to their spots. There were questions on the tips of their tongues, questions they didn’t dare ask, “Please try to get some sleep, though,” He pleaded, “I imagine you will have a long day tomorrow.” 

“what’s happenin’ tomorrow?” Sans spoke up for the first time since leaving the lab. 

“Oh! Uh,” Gaster considered it for a second– he hadn’t gotten that far yet, “I’m not sure yet, I haven’t decided,” 

Gaster watched as they immediately reacted, faces full of concern. 

“I promise you will not be hurt,” He continued quickly, “Either of you,” They relaxed, only slightly, “I will– I likely will take you to the castle to meet the king,” He looked away as he thought, “He will decide what to do with you, with us , from there,” 

He really had no clue what Asgore would make of this, let alone what he would tell Asgore. 

Something in him told him to lie, to try to get out of this. 

He decided he was done listening to that voice. 

Finally, he looked back at the boys, staring expectantly, “He will like you two, I’m sure of it.” 

Papyrus lit up, another grin spreading across his face, “REALLY?” 

“Yes, really,” Gaster relaxed, a small smile settling on his skull, “He is very kind, you will like him.” 

Finally, Sans slowly made his way to the bed, somehow managing not to let Gaster out of his sight as he did so. 

Gaster only sighed, summoning a magic hand to turn the lamp back off, “Goodnight, boys. I’ll be just downstairs,” 

The boys didn’t reply; they only stared as he slowly, quietly, closed the door. 

Once the door was closed, he paused, waiting. He heard shifting on the bed, and the sound of Papyrus trying to keep his voice down as he chattered to Sans. 

Gaster finally turned and went down the stairs, taking a more in-depth look at his surroundings. The kitchen was a mess, He would need to clean it before he tried to make breakfast for the boys– he would have to run to QC’s shop when she opened to get supplies, it didn’t look like he had anything but noodles here. He was no Toriel, but he would manage. 

He pulled the files out of his bag, thumbing through the one labeled 1-S. By the looks of the dates, these went back to their creation. He had a lot of reading to do before he spoke to Asgore– he needed to know exactly what he was dealing with here. 

It didn’t look like he would be getting any sleep tonight after all. 

He needed a cigarette.