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[Papyrus's own sense of what his brother's like flags that monosyllabic reply, countless instances of unhelpful texts and sticky notes coming to mind. He recognizes an apathetic agreement when he sees one.]

AND ORDER SOMETHING FOR ME TOO!!!!

[Maybe then Sans will actually order something, instead of agreeing and lying around in bed. Or... grabbing his wings and just holding them instead of neatening them...? Apparently Papyrus directed the helicopter to the living room, or absent-mindedly followed the floating phone back, or something he no longer remembers (accidentally deleted? no sign of something deleted, weird) - because there the little toy is hovering in sight of the couch and Sans's cocoon there. It's a pose that doesn't look like ordering takeout, so he's vindicated in both the instruction and the following.]

[Now Sans has to actually order something. He doesn't sit up, but his hands leave his feathers as his attention focuses more fully on his phone.]

ok
what do you want?

[I don't know, Papyrus could say, I just said that so you'd eat something, he could explain. It's not a sentiment that would go over well, he suspects. Thankfully his thoughts aren't accidentally transmitting nearly as easily as they have been, these last two weeks. He's able to take a minute, scrabble for an idea.]

SOME KIND OF PASTA DISH.
MAYBE THOSE RICOTTA STUFFED SHELLS,
FROM THE PLACE WITH THE LOBBY FOUNTAIN.

[Which place with the lobby fountain? Who knows, it exists now as a restaurant the skelebros have gotten takeout from at some point or another. The helicopter isn't exactly zooming in on Sans to stare at what he's doing with the phone, but it does go to settle on one of the side tables, the one with one of its chargers, rather than return to the workshop.]

[Sans gives the helicopter an idle pat with one of his many hands while he pulls up the restaurant in question on his phone. He adds Papyrus's order to the cart immediately, then pauses. Should he get something? Well, Papyrus might ask about it when he gets home if he doesn't. Sans adds three orders of bread sticks to the cart.

What? It's food.]

ok

[The helicopter flickers its lights once or twice at the touch, as if in response to detecting motion and its automated directive to take to the air to prevent falling to the ground... But that's Sans, already known to be Sans, and it stays put.

Papyrus, for his part, heaves a resigned sigh in front of the example assembled staircases. Monosyllabic again, and still without hints of mischief and pranking to it. It's going to be a long recovery from this round of bullshit, huh? Staircase and non-refrigerated groceries for now, bath tub as a project for the next few days. Easy enough to put in a request for time off, citing a monster- and family-problem to be dealing with. Surely there's been enough news reports and angry posts on the network about everything for his boss to see that it's warranted.

...Actually, is his boss one of the people he and Sans messed with? Did Sans come down to the block with the autoshop and the toy shop and the cafe to look for him and re-void him, then decide to fix things with everyone at work...? He almost doesn't want to examine his own memories on the matter.]

THANKS, BROTHER.

[Sans did indeed. Papyrus's ability to help people was limited by his mechanical nature and the way he kept snapping out of the void situation, so Sans took it upon himself to fix things up there. After all, Papyrus spends time there; the people who work with him deserve to be helped!

Sans isn't thinking about that, of course. He's very carefully not thinking about anyone he may or may not have helped, just like he's very carefully not thinking too hard about how that thanks seems more sincere than usual.]

np

[Papyrus doesn't get the same chance not to think about it, in the end. It's been a couple hours since dawn by now, and most of the people at the autoshop are already awake, if not already in. His boss certainly is, given the multiple call-ins from people with various personal affairs to see to, thanks to a pressure and drive to fix their baggage that's been downright possessing them all for days now. It's not completely new to all of them, another two of the crew are monsters and have dealt with the ongoing twisting changes themselves... But most of them are humans, normal humans, who hadn't had their minds or bodies twisted around by anything but recreational substances before this.

Now that the emotional changes have abruptly, largely faded off, people returning to their senses... there's fallout to deal with, and enough security footage to make it clear when everyone got strange.

Papyrus's leave request is approved, that is to say. It's extended. Not into an outright firing - it's not like it was malicious, that's clear enough in the several of the crew who've actually had longstanding problems in their lives completely turned around thanks to the mix of advice and pressure to do things differently. Even his own agitated calls and texts and showing up in person to make amends to his ex... Well, he's not holding his breath, but maybe. Nevertheless, it's goddamn horrifying to have something like that happening, and they'd all really appreciate if Papyrus could make sure his brother isn't going to repeat it at them.

It's not as long a phone call as it could have been, hashing that understanding out. Papyrus doesn't try to get as many words in as he usually might, repeatedly trailing off for the boss's interruptions, letting the man explain how things are going to go. It's just going to be... a week or two before he stops by the garage again, is all. And then they'll see.

After another hour or two, Papyrus ends up just getting a placeholder set of stairs, a metal scaffolding sort tall enough to install and use today, with some non-perishable groceries to fill in the gaps so Sans will eat something and he can politely have a few sociable bites. Shopping for the rest of the stuff... can wait. For financial reasons, if nothing else. The car pulls into the driveway, but he doesn't leap into action to start the installation - he stares again at the lack of stairs, the impossibly tall porch, the framework holding the house aloft. Shortcuts aren't necessary, he still thinks that, but...]

[Sans doesn't move much at all. He does get up once, when the food is delivered, teleporting down to the baffled delivery guy. He also throws away enough food in the fridge to make a relatively mess-free zone where the takeout can go until Papyrus arrives. He eats half of a bread stick. He goes back to the couch and, mercifully, passes out for an entire hour until one of his many eyes spots Papyrus on the lawn through a window, just standing there. There's no way he wants a lift up, right? Not when Sans would have to touch him.

Sans watches his phone. If Papyrus wants something, he'll text, right? He keeps an eye on Papyrus at the same time, though.]

[This isn't the blank stare of Papyrus texting with his thoughts - or if it is, he doesn't actually send any texts Sans's way. Instead, he eventually exist the car without word, and goes around the back to unhook the various securing straps there.

Once the wooden crate is free, he lifts it and hauls it up the sidewalk to where the stairs to the front door previously rested. He pries his fingers into the wood, and tugs the lid off with his hands, revealing a modular white staircase within - chosen because the central support and extending stairs resemble a spine. A moment glancing at the instructions, digging out the various packaged nuts and bolts, and he starts setting up.]

[Sans can't quite make out the back of Papyrus's car from this angle, but after a second he can see Papyrus returning with a crate. Looks like he's going to get started on building after all. Papyrus seems a lot less energetic than he'd been this morning, though, and Sans doubts it's because he's exhausted from hauling stuff around. Maybe because nobody's there to put on a show for. Except Sans, who's peeking out windows. (Hard not to, the way he works now. Still, Sans is primed for extra sensitivity toward invading Papyrus's privacy right now, so he feels bad anyway, like a reflex.)

Sans deliberately lays back down on the couch and closes at least the eyes he has on his body. The eyes on the wall continue doing whatever they want, which always means they stay open and watching. (Sans could read into that about himself, but he's trying not to think too hard, right?) He'll wait until Papyrus comes inside and actually talks to him.]

Edited 2022-10-24 05:35 (UTC)

[He can get reasonably far on his own, making sure the modular pieces are all fitted together. As joking as the suggestion to add tools to himself back in the day might have been, he has done that a bit - enough for a powered screwdriver, at least. Eventually the stair is assembled well enough to prop up against the building...

But not to stand on, or climb. It needs securing to the ground, and especially needs securing to the building, neither of which he can do with the supplies he has. He can direct the car to move over next to it, secure it in place with a couple straps so it's unlikely to just tip over... But still, no more putting it off. He pockets the parts needed for attaching it to the porch, then stands to retrieve the groceries.]

HEY SANS,
DID THAT TAKEOUT ARRIVE?
I COULD USE A BITE BEFORE THE NEXT STEP HERE.

[Because, you know, it's a staircase. He could use a lift upstairs to get that bite, and more importantly to gather the tools he needs for the rest of this... But Sans likes eating as a family, and he'll try to do that first. Maybe it'll help.]

[In the back of his mind, Sans watches the staircase assembly. Not attached yet, but it's a staircase now. When he gets a text, one eye of Sans's halo opens up to take a look. He grabs the phone to answer a second later.]

yeah
you want a lift?

[In other circumstances, Sans would teleport out in response to that text and ask in person. He'll wait this time.]

[Papyrus sighs and shifts in place, looking up at the dangling chain above the step ladder. It was functional as a makeshift way down, but... He'd really rather not keep testing that. And here's Sans so carefully asking, rather than showing up in person to be annoying. His two-sided brother, back to the withdrawn and sad and self-damaging side.

This cheese had better do something to help.]

YES, IF YOU'RE AWAKE ENOUGH FOR IT.
I WON'T IMPOSE ON YOU FOR LONG!!

[If he knows that a few of the eyes are positioned just so to look out here, he's not acknowledging it - no sign of a guess that Sans has been watching the whole time.]

[Sans stands up, stretching all his limbs and shaking out his feathers so they only look mostly rumpled before he shortcuts outside. He's managed to keep from pulling too many more feathers out, and hasn't pulled any out at all since that weird conversation with Rusty, but still, it's not like he's preened them either.]

Hey. [Sans has gotten his expression under its usual control; the signs of distress are masked like they usually are. His grin is casual, his posture its typical slouch. The stress shows around his eyes only if you know him well--which of course means Papyrus can tell, but Sans is doing what he can here.] Ready?

[Assuming Papyrus doesn't change his mind, Sans will put a hand on Papyrus's arm and drop them off in the kitchen. Papyrus was talking about food, so...]

Ready and waiting! [It's not quite an earnestly bright tone, though it's not outright impatience either - it hasn't been long enough for impatience to accumulate, when he only just sent the request. But it's a little forced, trying to match the way Sans is playing it normally. Not strongly, but audible enough that he notices it as he runs the memory of his own voice back, and rushes to add:] With, a little extra takeout. I should have texted you sooner!

[Most of the groceries with him are nonperishables, and not a concern in that way. It's really only the cheese in question. But it's only been maybe thirty minutes out here, hardly long enough for it to go bad...]

[Sans doesn't comment on any forced tones of voice; he's not going to be that hypocritical today, probably. He takes a step back away from Papyrus as soon as they're in the kitchen, then one more for good measure. If he stands far enough away for his extra limbs not to reach, that would probably look weird, so he doesn't do that.]

Food's in the fridge. [He doesn't think to mention he cleared out some space for it, though there's spoiled food in the trash can now.] You need anything else?

[Because Sans can definitely put more than six feet of space between them if he retreats back to the couch.]

[The two steps back might not be as weird as the distance Sans decides against, but the immediacy of them? That gets a baffled frown from Papyrus.]

Not... right now... [With the story of getting food, he should at least retrieve a small portion of it, and he might as well put the rest of these things in the appropriate cabinets and shelves. The cheese can wait a couple minutes. So if Sans is teleporting off to actually hide in the ruins or a cave or a graveyard or something, well... He'll have to shake answers out of that glitching tracker, he supposes.]

[Sans ignores that tone of voice too. He's good at this.] Okay, cool.

[And Sans vanishes. But not across town, just back to the couch. He's going to crawl back under the blanket now.]

[Irritated static rises and fades in the wake of his disappearance, and Papyrus grumbles as he places the bag on a counter and gets to it. Things put away, a pair of plates pulled out, the takeout bag pulled out to retrieve pasta... Small bag for two meals, unless they separated things into two. Strange.

Suspicious.

He pings the tracker for the details of the takeout order, and grumbles again when it - again - takes three pings before it even starts to respond. What has Sans been loading his phone up with, that it's running so slowly? It's a mostly-rhetorical question, since he doesn't split focus to check - he doesn't want to leave obvious digital fingerprints in the device by digging around. Just getting the order's details is enough.

...Just breadsticks. And only half of one is missing from the bag. So Sans hasn't eaten anything, for hours, despite still being primarily skeletal. Papyrus grabs one of the bread sticks, a scoop of the pasta, and half the bag of cheese to dump onto one of the plates, his own serving of pasta on the other, and stomps towards the living room. Sure enough, there Sans is.]

Okay, master waitstaff Papyrus has breakfast ready. [This tone to be ignored is something more chiding, as he deposits the cheese-bread-pasta plate in front of his brother.]

[Sans sits up when Papyrus starts stomping into the room. He looks at the plate in front of him with some level of confusion.] I thought you wanted the pasta. [There's also the matter of all this cheese on his plate, but Papyrus had mentioned getting Sans cheese earlier. Or at least asking Sans about cheese, which had apparently led to getting him cheese and putting it on a plate.

Okay, so Sans isn't really sure why he has all this cheese either. But the pasta was for Papyrus, so he can ask about that first.]

Yes, that's why I have some. [Papyrus wields his plate in such a way to tilt it for an unmistakable sight - some of the same pasta, in a similarly sized pile. That his plate lacks bread or cheese goes unmentioned.] But I'm a big enough skeleton to share! It's no problem.

[Making too much of a fuss about the pasta seems dumb; Sans shrugs.] Guess I should've ordered a bigger portion. [Not that Sans is particularly hungry right now, but it's obvious Papyrus is going to insist on making sure Sans eats. He picks up a bread stick and bites into it very deliberately.]

[A little of Papyrus's tension eases with the sight, because that's something. Only a little eases, he's wary of appeasing gestures that'll drop and backslide the moment he walks away... But that's something.]

For yourself? If you already ate it all, then yeah, you probably should have! [Because his portion size is fine - the food is basically just for manners, when he's mostly charging and supplementing with batteries and bolts and oil and such. And he can pretend he doesn't know what Sans hasn't eaten today.

Belatedly, he adds a fork to the plate, keeping the other for his own use.]

I don't want to steal your pasta. [Sans takes another bite of bread stick. It's just as deliberate an act as the first bite.] Would've stolen your bread sticks, but you don't have any of those.

[But really, he wouldn't have. He's still not really very hungry, though that's less true than it was when he woke up. That stored up energy is going toward replenishing his magic reserves, probably. (Or whatever it's called now. Sans doesn't think about it too much; easier to just stick to old terms.)]

Or, uh, your cheese, I guess. If you had any of that. [Why the cheese? Sans still isn't exactly sure.]

I've got plenty of cheese in the pasta. [Papyrus uses the fork to stab and twist one, prying it open to show the mixed cheese and herbs and whatnot within.] They're stuffed shells, remember? I've got plenty of calcium with this alone.

[No bones, no need - just habit. Sans, though, plenty of bones. Plenty of intangibility and spreading the bones out in weird ways, and who knows what they might have done for their durability? He glances at the pasta he deliberately put on Sans plate, and makes absolutely no move toward retrieving it, not even a slight aborted motion.]

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that indecision of not wanting to get too far with a tag w/o chance for sans to act, but...

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