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Huh... [Still a weird vibe, and a mood whiplash from the wink as he shared another quote just a couple minutes ago.] I don't think I've heard that one before... Is that old monster science? From... before the barrier? [It sounds a little more Prophecy than Science, but if humans don't study these things and monsters are made of stardust...]

Nah, a human said it--Carl Sagan. Humans are made of star stuff, too. Almost all of the elements were made in stars, or when the stars explode. [Sans looks at the nebula on the monitor like he could crawl inside and come out in the middle of space.] So this is where we're from.

I see... [That probably explains why Papyrus hasn't heard the quote - or just doesn't remember it - not if it's some human space science stuff.] In some long ago, far away sort of way, huh? Unless our sun made all our elements...

[He settles back, looking at the screen but also watching Sans's reaction to it. This is the kind of enthusiasm Sans rarely shows, the sort he was shooting for with the gift-giving, right? There's no obviously alarming escalations happening... But boy, he's really not as drawn to the images as his brother so obviously is. Papyrus pulls the smoothie up, sips at it with the straw - accidentally making a louder slurping sound than the quiet of the evening rooftop seems to need. The sound doesn't stop him, any more than being loud ever has.]

[Sans's eyes are still locked on the monitor. Papyrus talking is fine; it's Papyrus, after all. The slurping, though, cuts through his focus. He's not so distracted as to forget that drink is made of battery acid--fast as a whip, he uses his invisible hands to try and swat the drink out of Papyrus's hands and off the roof entirely.]

[As much as Papyrus is watching his brother, looking for signs of contented stargazing and/or strangeness... He hasn't picked up the habit of seeing invisible hands. The attack comes as a surprise, not forceful enough to just swat the the drink off into the air, but more than enough to jostle it from his hands and bouncing down the roof, spilling acid in its wake.] What the-- Sans!! [Papyrus's startled screech is extra startled and alarmed today.] What was that for, I was drinking that!

[Sans swats the cup again as it bounces, making sure it stays far away from the telescope. Still, that wasn't his best move--he could have gotten battery acid all over the laptop and everything.] It was too loud. [As if that's all the explanation it needs, he picks up on the previous thread of conversation.] Our elements probably came from all over. We're from a lot of different places. [If you think about it like that. Which Sans is.]

Too loud...? [This screech goes quieter mid-question, and Papyrus just stares back at ... Sans, presumably. Who's back to talking about stars like they changed a channel somewhere. Since when does he break Papyrus's things without so much as a hey bro, mind if I or something? It's no city power grid, but...]

[Are they still talking about this? Well, he did probably surprise Papyrus a little.] Yeah, it was making it hard to focus. [Even though that's never been a problem with Sans before, really. Of course, it's not entirely clear what kind of focus he's even talking about. He glances away from the screen to look at Papyrus, and then finally actually looks away entirely to look fully at his brother, who sure is looking at him with some kind of expression.] You okay?

Uhhhhh. [His voice is, still, somewhat lowered. He doesn't know why, since he isn't letting himself think the followup question of how Sans might react if he's too loud.] A little. Surprised. It's, uh, your 'birthday'... But normally, you say please? Or steal my drink.

[And okay, maybe Sans didn't go stealing his drink since it wouldn't be something he could drink. But there's a difference between stealing it to hold until later and just knocking it away, and this one crosses at least two typical-Sans lines.]

[Sans's face clouds with confusion immediately before it takes on that train wreck sort of look Papyrus might remember from when Sans caught himself talking about power grids. Wordlessly, Sans closes the laptop, pulls it free from the cords, and puts a hand on Papyrus's arm, returning them to the living room. Then, as soon as Sans lets go, he's gone and Papyrus is alone in the living room.

But Sans has just gone to his room. There's the distinct thump and creak of Sans collapsing heavily onto his bed.]

[The abrupt blanking of Sans's eye sockets, packing up and the transportation all take Papyrus by a different kind of surprise than everything else, but one tinged with enough relief that he doesn't protest any of it - quietly or loudly. Once he's alone in the living room, he takes a full minute just to take in the sight of the living room, where the heated blanket and sunlamp are still powered on with the rest of the lights.

...Well, that went. He hears that distant thump and creak, and needs a minute before doing anything with it, so he settles on the middle of the couch, rests his hands in his lap, and stares at the opened packages.

It was such a good idea. Space and electricity, and that weird hungry stargazing would surely be satisfied in a peaceable way. But it seems like there's more to it than just getting to look at space, huh? A setback, a disappointment... but clarifying. It'll just be harder than he expected, that's all. Maybe a lot harder. Maybe he should take a little more time to remember that the wings are up inside Sans's head, and the weird stuff with his soul probably isn't just cosmetic.

...His robot stuff better not be making him weird in his own ways. And if it is...! Well. He can't just detach it all and have the life he wants. Besides, it's not like the occasional delusions of void godhood or leeches. It's around... all the time. Loads more opportunity to get use to it, and cope with it, and figure out how to still be him. Mostly.

It's been a few minutes. The power grid hasn't blown up. He's not sure why he's thinking that, Sans looked upset and ran away again, of course the power grid's fine. But... He gathers a few things, stands.]

...Sans? [Papyrus's voice, outside the bedroom door. A little subdued, but not as nervously so as on the roof. Tired but hopeful.] Are you... You're still in there, right? Can I open the door?

[Sans hasn't moved from the bed since he dropped himself into it. His thoughts are a chaotic, disjointed buzz. That wasn't supposed to happen again. He thinks it might have been worse this time, even if he didn't talk about doing anything to the electricity. Is that just going to keep happening?

Sans doesn't move when he hears Papyrus, so his voice is a little muffled when he answers.] Yeah, if you want. [It's pretty hard for Sans to imagine why Papyrus would want to right now, even if he apparently does. Sans is sprawled face down on his bed, his wings curled around him like he's trying to cocoon himself. The blanket and sheets have long since fallen off the bed, but the fitted sheet is still hanging in there. Now that Sans can't keep all his books in a superposition for the stupid quantum physics joke, he's got a growing collection of various books overtaking the flat surfaces of the room. Plenty of socks on the floor, of course, and a few t-shirts. Strangely, there's a collection of rocks of varying sizes too, sitting on the nightstand and along the windowsill closest to his bed. The room is dark, so it's not really possible to see the details.]

[Papyrus's eye sockets glow faintly as he cracks the door open and steps just inside, though the light from the hall does more for his low-light vision for letting him see the details of things. Bed cocooning, as he could've guessed. Various clothes and books all over... and rocks? Hopefully those aren't from the ruins. If Sans is getting fixated enough on that symbol to be breaking and stealing things from the dig site, they'll surely get mad at him and fire him.

...Distracted thoughts in the back of his head, influenced by other thoughts. Papyrus is mad, if he's honest with himself, but getting mad at Sans about it won't help anything. There's more immediate worries anyway.]

You left... a few things, out there. That you might want. [He holds up his hands, full of the electric blanket and the sunlamp bundled within it, as a kind of peace offering. Both radiating more residual heat than he wants to be holding for long, he can already feel fans in his chest starting to kick on.]

Edited (invisible small tag now visible lol) 2021-11-14 02:10 (UTC)

[Sans shifts a wing and turns his head just enough to see what Papyrus is holding. All of the energy has gone out of him; Sans just wants to lay right here in bed forever. But Papyrus thought to bring Sans the blanket and the sun lamp, and it makes Sans's soul twist up. Why is Papyrus so nice to him? (Stupid question. But Papyrus shouldn't be being nice to him right now.) He holds a hand out for the blanket. The sun lamp probably shouldn't sit on the bed.]

Thanks. Sorry. [Leave it to Sans to mess up his own birthday. Good job.]

[Papyrus's face shifts with a bittersweet smile, and he glances down as he separates the things in his hands. Which side of his brother is easier to deal with, the happy enthusiastic and occasionally carelessly aggressive, or the sad lump apologizing for existing?]

...Well. It seems like, it surprised you too. So. [He's not about to lie and say it's all okay, but he'd be far more willing to be mad if this were a clear recurring problem that Sans knows of and does nothing about. They both know how Papyrus can complain about those things. But this is... still new.] The other stuff can wait, but these... They're just comfortable. [And Sans gets to have comforts, even if he's being distressingly unkind.]

[Sans should sit up, at least. He should, but telling himself that doesn't make his limbs move. He stays where he planted himself, tugging the blanket over top of himself and feeling some of the tension in his wings loosen. He's still trying to get himself to sit up, but the best he can do is turning his head a bit more to better look at Papyrus.]

The sun lamp'll probably fit on the nightstand. [Some of the rocks might have to be shuffled around, but there isn't a regular lamp on it, so there's room.] Or just put it on the floor. I'll deal with it later. [He can't imagine Papyrus wanting to stick around in here longer than he has to.]

Too... ready for bed, for light, huh? [After this, he can't fully blame Sans for wanting to sleep and hope to be normal in the morning. But he glances at the floor, just long enough to make a face at the idea of adding to the mess there, before shaking his head. Yeah, no. He's taking a couple minutes shifting the mystery nightstand rocks around to make a good space for the sun lamp, where it won't fall off it turned off by a sleepy hand, then looks for the nearest outlet. The better to plug them both in, even if he's not going to light the sun lamp unwanted.]

[The rocks are smooth to the touch--polished. If Papyrus looks, some of them have writing engraved on them, because they're pieces of old gravestones. Sans is quiet again, unmoving. There's an outlet right behind the nightstand; Sans's leech had at least thought to set up all the furniture in a convenient way.]

Actually. Um. I sleep better with lights on. [Which he doesn't want to think about right now, because it's another change, but it's true and he doesn't want to be up all night in Papyrus's way.]

With them on...? [This leaves several mysteries, including why Sans seemed energized by them downstairs, and why he left them on up here. Was he...? Yeah, he was probably trying to give himself nightmares, or something stupid like that. Papyrus huffs a sigh as he reaches to turn the light on, angle it across Sans's position to the far wall.] Like that?

[He starts shifting the rocks around to make an interesting shadow pattern, and pauses to stare at one of them and grimace. Rocks with carvings. Symbols. They are from the ruins, aren't they? This is distressing. Should he wait to ask, until... they've had a chance to sleep all this off?]

Yeah. [Sans's plan is to just stay here curled up in this blanket and his wings and not move either ever again or at least until tomorrow, but he catches Papyrus's grimace. What was Sans thinking, leaving those gravestone pieces out and then not doing anything to make them less obvious when Papyrus said he was coming in? Stupid. He's really on a roll here.]

You don't want to keep standing around in here all night. I'm not goin' anywhere. [Papyrus can go do something he might actually like doing instead.]

[Sans isn't wrong about part of that, anyway. Standing around in Sans's mess of a sad lump room - even if the un-imposed books now add a little more decor to the place than socks or rocks - is not his idea of a great evening. And it's feeling like Sans wants Papyrus to get going, and this is a privacy he hasn't completely lost. But...]

...You promise? [He doesn't want to find that Sans has gone and disappeared, exiling himself to a cave or something, come morning.]

[As always, Sans hesitates at the idea of a promise. But if he can't promise Papyrus of all people something so simple, then there might not be a point to trying to hang onto who he's supposed to be at all anymore.]

Yeah, promise.

Okay. [He doesn't burst into song, but there's relief in his voice, and he sets the last of the suspiciously symboled rocks back down. The line of them are making a shape like a mountain against Sans's far wall, a silhouette like the paintings he's seen of what Mount Ebott supposedly looks like. It feels far away, these days, between all the death and changes. Overshadowed by the sunlight and distractions of the human world. But... maybe something worth thinking about, too.]

[It turns out the sun lamp specifically actually is hard for Sans to sleep in, at least when he's already worked up from everything that happened. There's a comfort to it, too, though, and he spends half an hour staring at nothing trying to turn his brain off before he switches the sun lamp off. That leaves him in the dark, and then it's another half an hour of fighting with something else--a crawling unease in every shifting shadow, like the darkness is closing in on him. He's spent his whole life before he got here underground, he's slept in the dark for years, he glows, but none of this rationalization makes the feelings go away. He reaches out with one of his invisible hands, hesitates, and then frees himself from his cocoon to turn on his regular light the normal way. Guess there really is a difference between the sun lamp and a lightbulb besides just brightness. He crawls back under the electric blanket and wraps it and his wings around himself all over again, and sleep finally has some mercy on him.

The sunlight through the windows wakes him up the next morning, like it has since he started changing. That doesn't stop him from lying in bed for another fifteen minutes. He could keep lying here, call off work and be the lump he was always meant to be, but he can't make himself even more of a burden to Papyrus especially after last night. So. Up. Come on. Get up.

Okay. He's up. Being up means the potential of crossing paths with Papyrus, if he's home right now, and Sans isn't sure how he's going to deal with that, but he's up. He's not sure if Papyrus being mad or Papyrus being nice to him is going to be worse, but he's up. (Papyrus being disappointed with him would be the worst, of course.)]

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1/2 for introspection vs action

2/2, action

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1/2 I'm putting all the introspection in a quarantine comment