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Yeah, you're good at that. [Sans has plenty of eyes to watch Papyrus with, and he's definitely doing that now, taking in the tone of voice and expressions Papyrus is making.] It was pretty lucky I fished you outa the river when you were a baby bones.

[That absolutely didn't happen and is just one of many ridiculous and untrue stories about the bits of their childhood Sans can't remember.]

Just--y'know. I'm not gonna, I dunno, go anywhere 'cause you did something wrong. Not unless I'm acting weird. [That's intentionally specific wording. Sans can't guarantee a lot here, but under normal circumstances he knows he wouldn't. He never has, and he has a lot of memories to work with now. Unless Papyrus tells him to leave and means it, Sans won't leave.] And I'd have to be acting real weird.

[Even his negative self hadn't wanted to leave Papyrus behind. Not even negative Papyrus. Saying San Benedicto can't do it at all is just asking for it, but so far, that's been pretty consistent.]

[In a dozen ways, Papyrus's face and voice give away: feelings of resignation, warring with refusal, and hope. He doesn't want to be a mess the way Sans is. He doesn't want either of them to be messes like that, and he does his best not to be... but he has Sans's support, and who's supporting Sans? Nobody. Papyrus has never figured out how to fill that empty role...]

Not again, anyway. [It's only a mild jab, light and somewhat amused by now. That time Sans fled to a cave to avoid Papyrus's company, it seems ages ago. Even hiding out in his room, while Papyrus didn't remember him, has been months and months. So many stranger, awful things have happened since, and both of them keep doing their best to get back to the normal they've chosen as soon as possible.] Not for long. But... I guess taking a break, isn't the same as going anywhere...

[He's dithering a little, he knows it. That's not what Sans is getting at.] I'm not... I'm not scared of running you away. That's not...

[He trails off uncertainly. His negative half had been scared of saying too much of the wrong things, the hurtful things. But he'd been afraid of being alone and of being around people. Too many fears to make any kind of sensible planning with.]

[It's true, Sans never thought of those times as leaving so much as going on break. Sans has gotten better at rolling with the strangeness here through sheer attrition, but situations where he just doesn't know how to handle Papyrus are still pretty difficult.

(He spends a lot less time in that cave in general, between it being so close to the lake and it reminding him of the thing much, much deeper down. Kind of unfair; he liked that cave.)]

So what is it? [Asking directly for Papyrus's feelings on this subject feels incredibly awkward. Sans has several ideas about the specifics, of course, but they're supposed to be talking it out or whatever. Doesn't make it feel less weird.]

I... I, uh.

[Papyrus looks around every which way, like he's looking for an escape route, or a cue card. Fragments of their arguments the last week or so flicker in his mind - some of them fragmented thanks to having worked himself up so much that he induced his own resets, and it's not like he's checked yet how many of them he managed to back up in time. Now he can at least calm himself down again, diffuse some of that agitation with jokes he can partly feel, and try to think it through. It would be so much worse, so much harder, to try being really honest if he was feeling everything at full strength.

It's still hard.]

I'm not... that different, from you. Not in some ways. I work hard at doing things differently, and thinking about... about myself differently. [The Great Papyrus, with practiced monologues and a clean room with cool and affirming decorations that he actively maintains.] If I didn't... I think I might struggle, with doing things. Like you struggle. And, sometimes, I worry. That if we were both struggling, the same way, then...

[They'd fall apart, surely. Even if his brother insists on treating Papyrus like he's the center of Sans's world. Kassabian's pointed out a lot of things, about that, and Papyrus trying to live up to it all.]

...I really don't know why you... wouldn't mind, in me, what you hate about yourself. I-I know I'm cool, but... that special? Nobody else... Basically nobody else thinks I am.

[Flowey, a little bit, maybe. It had been flattering, and comforting, being treated like a friend - like family - in that way. And then Flowey went and killed him dozens of times, if not more, so that was complicated too.

Another percentage of emotional processing drops, with the accidentally unpacked memories of death at Flowey's bullets and vines. Papyrus grumbles and scrubs at his face.]

You work hard. [Which Papyrus just said, but that's part of what Sans thinks makes them different.] So I don't think you'd end up like me. [Even if Sans watches for it sometimes, almost guiltily, just in case. Because he wouldn't want Papyrus to have to deal with that. But that's not the point here, really, so Sans keeps going.]

But you're my brother. And my friend, even if we weren't bros. It's been like that basically as long as I can remember knowing you. [Which is a long time now, even if a lot of that time is twisted up in one endless, looping day.] So if you were having trouble, I wouldn't be mad, I'd just wanna... Help you out, I guess?

[Which may actually explain something to Sans about how Papyrus treats him, actually.]

Oh? [Papyrus's voice goes dry, as wry as it's been in any point of this conversation. He doesn't turn to stare at Sans head-on, but he does stop glancing around, the better to give a long sidelong look.] You wouldn't be mad, you'd just want to help...?

[That answer doesn't really address Papyrus's doubts to his satisfaction, not by any means - working hard is important, but it's not the basis of his worth and it shouldn't be the basis of Sans's either.

But. If nothing else.

It is a memory to record in as high definition as he possibly can, and back up to every external hard drive he has, the better to pull out as an I told you so some day. And that feeling may be showing in his voice and face.]

[Okay, judging by that look on Papyrus's face, it definitely explains something to Sans about how Papyrus treats him and this is not going to be the last time hears himself say that. But that's okay. Sans's grin quirks up a bit.]

You don't need to do anything to be special, you just are. Even if you definitely wanna rub what I just said in my face right now. [Go on, go for it.]

Why stop at right now? A thing like that could get re-said for months. Years, even.

[He snickers, even as he sniffles from mix of relief and embarrassment and hope. Maybe that first sentence is more of a reassurance than he knows what to do with, just yet... But he has a lot of great role models in how to show affection even when they don't know what to say. So he drapes an arm over Sans's head, heavily, and hums.]

You know... I think I just understood why Undyne noogied me so many times. I finally see the appeal of it!

[Hopefully they'll see her again, and he can surprise her by ruffling up her hair - before she dunks him in whatever pile of stuff is nearby.]

[This is the life he must live, being so short.] I can't believe you were a skeleton-noogieing hypocrite this whole time.

This whole time?? [Papyrus's voice rises in mock-offense, as he rolls his fingers inward enough to lightly noogie at Sans's skull.] I never knew! This is an entirely new thing I'm learning about myself here. Maybe it's even because of all the changes.

[If he really ever needs to save face with Undyne calling him on the same thing, he can and will claim that's what it is. Another thing to hope for, when Sans inevitably spills the beans and goads her into tackling Papyrus again.]

This place really changes a guy. [How will he survive etc.] 'S okay, you're still my favorite brother.

Phew! I was seriously starting to worry about that, with all the brothers you have to choose from. Don't worry, you're still my favorite brother too. [Sarcasm and joking, but another thread of tension relaxes in his posture. His arm rests more heavily on Sans's head for a few seconds, before he relents and pulls it off.]

...Tomorrow. Let's fix my emotions tomorrow. I need to not forget any of this. [The very important wise ass sound clip most of all, of course, but the rest of it too. He considers the internal list he made, before he started listing the main topics for discussion, and very slightly shrugs his shoulders.] We didn't get the whole list, but...

[He's not about to ask if Sans is worn out emotionally and wants to stop, because the answer is probably yes, and he's not about to admit that even in the 60s he's getting worn out too. Who needs to outright say it, though, with a great perceptive brother like Sans?]

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ends up just writing the tag

this is the opposite of the thing i requested! but thank you :')

the ultimate power of skeleton emotions

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