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[spaghettimonster]

Hmmm. Something like, quality time with your favorite brother. [Half-joking, for the sake of levity to keep this from getting too grim, and because it would drive them both up a wall if either were that literally dependent on the other. But as important for morale as it is to avoid getting into the details every other conversation, he suspects it's only responsible to acknowledge recent events in some way. Correlation isn't causation... but it's foolish to rule out correlation, especially when both are things out of the ordinary. Not without testing. But that reminds him of something else that was New.]

...I don't suppose you got all those, uh... decorations... Around the same time. [Please reassure him that the creepy angel statues aren't eating your energy, Sans.]

[ribticklers]

Oh--nah, I've been picking those up for a little while. [Admittedly he'd only started upgrading to statues recently, but it wasn't simultaneous. If he explains to Papyrus they feel nice to have around he's going to sound even crazier. Might as well skip that part. He doesn't immediately address the first thing Papyrus said--of course he doesn't--but he's mulling it over. It can't be something so direct as Papyrus's presence or anything (it better not be), but there was a change in how often they were in the same space. But Sans isn't avoiding Papyrus anymore, so if it was just that, it would have fixed itself. Tentatively, he offers:] Wasn't hanging around as many people lately. Not a lot of visitors to the cave.

[spaghettimonster]

Not unless you count the litterers. [This is a more reflexive mumbled grumble than the rest. The segue from party to cleanup to buying the house is somewhat tangled together in his analog memory, in a way that the residual feelings bleed together too. He doesn't like the cave because he didn't like the cave, and the unpleasantness that happened there just 'proved' the initial dislike... But the feelings were strong enough normally that they're still strong now, and he doesn't know how hard to hide it. He shakes his head, considers the screenshot of the list as he tilts his spoon to start carving gelatin into a more interesting shape.]

But there are a few that... seem to involve exposure to people. Somehow. In some weird metaphysical way. [The ones he'd largely shrugged off before. Dreams. Emotions. Vague unspecified things, how did the study even measure that those were what people were craving?]

[ribticklers]

[Sans has been circling around dreams and emotions enough that it seems like the reasonable place to land. That doesn't mean he wants to, though. If it was emotions, though, then he's still doing things like going to work. He was around fewer people, but not nobody. That leaves the question of if he can deliberately eat an emotion up in the air, but he's fine with leaving it there right now. Dreams--well, he doesn't have experience with his powers relating to dreams. But...] Hey, how much have you been sleeping? Like just lately, compared to usual. [Specification is necessary, given how little Papyrus sleeps in general.]

[spaghettimonster]

[As Sans circles, Papyrus is still mulling on frustrating metaphysical things as a general category, and updating his checklist on some of the standing concerns. The angels statues apparently preceded all this by long enough that Sans doesn't think they're connected. He didn't offer any more information, and wasn't notably dodgy about them, which... really, that isn't conclusive about anything, it being Sans. When the question comes, he blinks in surprise.]

Uh. Sleeping...? [The question itself takes him by surprise, and he scratches absently at his temple.] Not... very much. I don't seem to need to, if I charge up. And I don't usually want to. [Because it's the height of lazing about, and not accomplishing anything, for one. But... for another... because he frequently has bad dreams. The screenshot is still up in his active memory, and he stares at his brother. He doesn't really suspect...?]

[ribticklers]

I've been here or at the cave at night lately. [He had that job watching cattle on nights when he wanted to go look at the stars, but when it seemed like something was actually killing things out there, Sans dropped that job.] And I haven't been having cave sleepovers. So. [So it could be that Sans is feeding off of dreams, which is incredibly impractical when Papyrus sleeps so little, since Sans has no idea how he'd even start doing that on purpose. If he goes lurking around other peoples' houses at night people are going to notice eventually.]

[spaghettimonster]

Oh my god. [Papyrus settles the spoon back into the mold, clasps his hands together for the tactile feedback. Somewhat numb isn't completely unfeeling, after all, and...]

I... I feel kind of guilty? [Normally, that'd be an admission of feeling deeply, profoundly guilty. And normally he might be feeling that much so, too. Would he be weeping? How much is buried underneath, waiting for the various inactive emotional processing banks, wherever they are, to connect to the data of Sans's hunger directly correlating to Papyrus's reduced sleeping...? It occurs to him, that that's even more computery than usual. He shakes his head to shake the thoughts to a pause.] And I'd probably feel guiltier if I had known! Though. I suppose we don't... know, know. I could try taking a nap, for testing...?

[ribticklers]

[Now Sans's eyes do flick to Papyrus rather than avoiding him.] Yeah, we don't know for sure, but even if it is that, it's not like it's your fault. [Nobody asked for these weird changes. Sans was happy eating his usual food, thanks. Speaking of that, he's working on his third grilled cheese now.] But I guess a test like that wouldn't hurt. [The worst thing that happens is nothing.]

[spaghettimonster]

Of course it's not my fault. But I can be concerned anyway! [As long as concern continues to be a thing that he can feel, at least. But the concern whether his emotions are continuing to erode is a problem for future Papyrus to wrestle with. For now, he just flags it and archives it, and focuses on the near-future.]

And... take a nap, huh. I guess we could have a lazy night, and crash on the couch, and watch TV...? [If they pick something relaxing enough, maybe he can sleep and have okay dreams, too.]

[ribticklers]

How could I turn that down? [Really there's plenty of ways, but setting aside the reasons for it, hanging out with Papyrus on the couch watching dumb TV shows is one of Sans's favorite things to do. And he'll have something to do while eating his three sandwiches besides think.] We can give it a shot.

[Will it be better if it works or if it doesn't? If it doesn't work, Sans is going to have to revisit the emotion thing. If it does, then he's going to have to figure out how to absorb dreams from people who aren't Papyrus without ending up getting arrested for breaking and entering.]

[spaghettimonster]

Okay, experiment time. [Which, he says with more enthusiasm than he might usually, given the track record of experiments in the valley so far. But it's good to have an idea, and a plan to test it, and hopefully make things better. Even if he's not weighed down with all his usual worries, or buoyed by his usual cheer, or so on. He gathers up the gelatin molds, heads for the fridge to get something to drink to bring with him.] I'll get the living room set up.

[ribticklers]

I'll finish up these. [Sans nudges the plate where he's stacked his sandwiches. It won't be long before he's finished up, especially because he just leaves the dirty pan on the stove, with the spatula on the countertop next to it. He considers a trip to his room to grab that electric blanket, but Papyrus might overheat or something.]

Okay, ready. [As if Sans did any work beyond finishing the food he was making and now making his way to his spot on the couch.]

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus is stacking pillows strategically to make comfortable spots on the couch, his food and glass of milk on the far side of the table where stray pillows shouldn't knock them off. The remaining light is at its dimmest setting, the better to provide a sleepy mood - and avoid glare on the screen. He looks up as Sans settles in with the sandwich stack and nods.]

Okay, good! Do you have any viewing preferences for the evening? I am, up front, vetoing talk shows. We don't need any of that. [The last thing he needs is nightmares about the other serial killer whose handiwork he's witnessed. Or weird guilt dreams about the ghosts who disappeared, asking why he didn't stop the killer. Again.]

[ribticklers]

Yeah, no thanks. [Sans is done with talk shows until the next reset for the next long while. He settles into his spot on the couch, his feathers fluffing up and settling again as he gets comfortable. ] You can pick. I can fall asleep to anything. [Papyrus is the one who's going to need help on that front. Sans starts eating his first sandwich meanwhile, crunching through it at a frankly frightening pace.]

[spaghettimonster]

[Yeah, that sandwich consumption gets another sympathetic, if not empathetic, glance. He remembers how that feels. Hunger, and exhaustion, and a queasy shame of not wanting to let on about it all. Hopefully they figure this out soon, and he goes for the remote to start bouncing through channels. Maybe something on a science station...

Still, that last comment needs a response.] Do you think you might eat dreams... in your dreams? [He doesn't know how this would begin to work, but if they both have to be asleep at the same time, it's astonishing Sans didn't start starving sooner.]

[ribticklers]

[Sans shrugs.] Prob'ly not, but it wasn't like I was making sure I was awake when you were asleep and I wasn't [don't say starving] hungry all the time before. [So if it's dreams he can probably eat them while he's asleep. But maybe not? Hm.] I guess I can try to stay awake.

[spaghettimonster]

Hmm. If you got up for a midnight snack, while I was sleeping... Eating while eating is very intuitive. [Just ask him, accidentally absorbing battery charge while eating more normal food. He knows what word got skipped over, there. Still, as much as he doesn't prefer going to sleep when he really doesn't seem to need to anymore, this would be the reason to do so. This isn't a one-shot thing.] Do whatever. If the first doesn't work, we'll have to try both.

[ribticklers]

Yeah, sure. [Sans sits up--if he's going to try to stay awake this time, he should probably be in a more upright position. At least he has sandwiches to keep him occupied. He's already finished the first one, though.] Wake me up if I fall asleep before you do. [But at least for now he'll manage to keep himself awake.]

[spaghettimonster]

I'll do my best to kick you awake! And not kick you in my sleep. [There's no dramatic pause or groan before he utters the word sleep, where there might normally have been. But then, he did volunteer. No sense over-acting it. Instead, he settles on a channel and leaves the remote on the table, tugs the snack and milk closer, and leans his back and head on the pillows propped to his side of the couch - the better to be in a sleep-enabling pose.] The science of pollinators, huh...

[ribticklers]

[Sans works his way through his second sandwich. Even if it's not quite hitting the spot, grilled cheese is still great.] Like bees and stuff? [Biology isn't really his thing, but maybe that could be interesting. Maybe it could bee interesting. Heh.] Too bad neither of us are beeologists. [That's a stretch to get to a pun, but Papyrus always made better ones anyway. Sans's talent lies in the terrible.]

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus makes a brief sound of amusement - it's terrible, but it's not an overdone bone pun, so he can continue to mildly encourage such things.] You could bee. You have enough part-time jobs, I'm sure you could fit one more in. [Somehow, in the hours that Sans isn't spending sleeping and eating and eating some more.

But the show reveals that it's not just bees, but emphasizing the broader range of 'stuff' - wasps and hornets, butterflies and moths, even bats and various other creatures who frequently visit flowers. Colorful shots of fields, offering enough interesting visuals to keep attention even when the voice is relatively dry. Papyrus eventually decides to close his eyesockets, the better to let his attention flicker out.]

[ribticklers]

[Flower fields still hold novelty value to Sans. Not a lot of flowers underground, and not a lot of fields in this canyon that aren't full of corn. Sans notices when Papyrus closes his eyes--hard not to, with all the eyes Sans has--but he's not exactly sure what he should be waiting for here. Papyrus probably isn't even asleep yet, let alone dreaming. It's not like he can ask. For now, he might as well keep listening to this guy talk about fruit bats.]

[spaghettimonster]

[It's soon clear Papyrus isn't asleep yet, when he briefly opens an eyesocket and reaches for the glass of milk. He sips from the straw and puts it back, before shrugging almost apologetically at Sans and settling back into his sleep-ready pose. The fruit bat monologue isn't quite a droning sound, but it's not the kind of thing he's very interested in, so it's a good start for drifting to unconsciousness.

Of course, even with Sans taking care not to talk, there's other obstacles. Papyrus reflexively starts to access his phone, before catching himself and deliberately setting it in airplane mode instead. There's still the various things stored on it, but... No, cancel that too, remove usb device. Limiting what his mind can wander onto to the sensations of lying on the couch, the sounds of the television, and any movements as either of them shift, and the various radiowave signals constantly going off around them... And, of course, memories.

The switch from nostalgia, to daydreaming, to outright dreaming is a gradation. He doesn't notice when thoughts of house renovations switch to yelling at Sans in the hivemind, or when somehow that skewed version of Hannibal joins the hivemind and begins offering cheerful suggestions. The positive of turning his attention from Sans to the memory thief is outweighed by... the next few minutes, if minutes are the right scale of time. But before it gets too awful, there's a television audience, holding up signs and applauding, and he's performing some kind of game instead. The MTT theme plays, and the dream drifts on, pieces of memories mixing in odd associations.]

[ribticklers]

[Sans is being delighted by the hilarious existence of hammer-headed fruit bats when he's startled by a flow of energy he can't attribute to his thought experiment on what a vampire who turned into one of those bats might looks like. He turns his head pointlessly toward Papyrus, which doesn't actually give him a better view than pointing it at the television did. After that first moment where whatever in him is reacting to this is gulping up whatever it can get regardless of what it is, he starts feeling kind of weird, like he ate something gross. Then that feeling goes away. Then it comes back, and lasts for a while, and Sans is on the verge of waking Papyrus up before it fades again. Whatever is happening, it's doing more to feed him than the sandwiches did. He keeps staring at Papyrus like he expects to be able to see whatever flow of energy is happening here, but that continues to not happen.]

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus shifts from time to time through his sleep, but doesn't grow notably restless or listless as Sans absorbs energy. Fortunately for them both it never becomes an outright nightmare. Occasional dips into unpleasantness, as his dreams tend to do, but mostly it's weird - a fluctuating of associations without coherency. It's in the middle of sparring with Undyne on a skyscraper that he jolts awake, about forty minutes later.]

Wh-- huh? [The dreams, it turns out, don't quite store as vividly. He blinks at the screen, then his brother, before recognizing where and when he is - and what's going on.] Did... I did fall asleep?