bedheadbellies:

Pacifeast 💙
(A bit rushed but I’m proud of this one)
—

Sans stood in front of the doorway, the cherrywood door covered in many variations of “keep out” and “caution” street signs. Most of them were well kept but faintly rusted, salvaged from their old home in the Underground, save for one particularly newish-looking stop sign, a Giftmas present from Undyne, sat in the center. Sans couldn’t think of any more appropriate clue, screaming at him to turn back around.

“I think it is time you had a talk with him,” Toriel had said. He knew she was right, more than right, but when you climb a mountain, where the heck do you start? Frisk had, flatly, suggested the Ruins. Sans chuckled, wondering not for the first time if he was rubbing off on the kid.

It didn’t used to be so hard to talk to Papyrus. They didn’t always get into arguments at breakfast, avoid each other at lunch, sit in defeated silence at dinner, pretending to be absorbed in other conversations. Once upon a time, neither of them even needed to eat– Sans shuddered– and it was rough but they were content. When had the lying started? When had Sans forgotten how to talk to his brother? Or had Papyrus simply stopped listening to him? He didn’t know.

Toriel had offered to come with him. Sans refused. This was his fault, not Tori’s. He’d shut his brother out– literally– to the point where he was terrified to take meals outside of his and Tori’s shared bedroom or at work. It had gone on long enough. He’d made Papyrus feel like he wasn’t allowed in his life anymore. Something had to give– and if anyone was good at giving up, it was Sans.

With a deep breath, he raised his knuckles, hesitated, and knocked.

“Who is it?”

Sans gulped. Papyrus was never that quiet.

“s’me,” he said. A pause. “…can i come in?”

Another pause.

“…Can you even fit through the door?”

It hadn’t been intended as a scathing remark, Sans could tell by the tone. He looked down at himself, then at the door, not entirely sure himself. He tried measuring it, and only then did he notice how close his wide hips were to scraping against the hallway’s drywall.

“uh… maybe?”

“Nyeh…”

After a pause, Sans heard the door tumblers click, the door opening inwards to a very sorry looking skeleton. Sans felt his stomach lurch. It was his fault Papyrus looked so beat up. He sighed, wishing there was a rock big enough for him to crawl under.

Papyrus wordlessly stepped aside, granting Sabs as much room as he could manage to squeeze through. He did indeed need to turn to the side and even sucking in his gut, it was a tight pinch, but he made it through. Into the lion’s den.

He sat on the edge of Papyrus’s racer cat bed, not looking up. Papyrus joined him, ducking under Frisk’s top bunk, a hammock piled high with pillows and fluffy fleece.

“…i don’t even know where to start,” Sans sighed.

“The beginning, I should think,” Papyrus muttered. “When did… how long have you been like this? Honestly?”

Sans shrugged.

“I said HONESTLY,” said Papyrus.

“that is honest, i swear,” said Sans, finally looking up. “i ain’t never been a picky eater, pap. i… i like food–”

Sans ground his teeth, thinking back to when Toriel helped him find the right words, at the beginning of their relationship. It wasn’t just about the food.

“i love,” he said, squaring his shoulders and smiling his best. “eating.”

“Everyone likes to eat,” said Papyrus. “But why?? Why… so MUCH?”

Sans stopped grinding his teeth. He had to be sincere, to look Papyrus in the eye socket and speak his mind. He could at least say, for the first time in a long while, he tried.

“because it makes me happy.”

Papyrus was silent. Sans took no satisfaction in the guilt in his eyes. He wasn’t lying and his brother knew it. When Papyrus didn’t just to fill the silence, Sans did it for him.

“i know you don’t think it’s healthy, and yeah, maybe i bit off more than I could chew at the start of it,” he chose to not blame Toriel, somehow thinking he would’ve gotten to where he was now with or without her… but he smiled, equally glad he didn’t have to do it alone. “but if i had to choose between going one way or the other, i’d honestly hate to be as scrawny as i used to be.”

He leaned forward, quietly enjoying how the folds of fatty magic shifting accommodatingly under his button up flannel shirt.

“it’s weird, i know, and i… i ain’t asking you to like it. i don’t want to be no negative influence on frisk neither, if you’re afraid of that. but this is a body i…”

Was he getting choked up? Dammit, this was why he hated behind honest. It hurt more than lies.

“i-it’s a body i feel proud of,” he swallowed a heavy lump in his theist, suddenly finding a lot of other things in the room to look at, anything but Papyrus’s face.

“and i… i’ll stop e-eating so much all at once if it–” crap, his eyesight with blurring. He looked down, but he couldn’t stop talking. “i-if i really embarrass you that much, but, but i don’t want to go on a diet. i-i don’t wanna g-go back to being a skinny weakling again…” he wasn’t gonna cry he wasn’t gonna cry he wasn’t–

He felt skinny, featherweight bones circle his shoulders and he flinched as Papyrus pulled him into a hug. He was definitely crying now.

“I didn’t know,” Papyrus’s voice broke. Was he crying too? “It meant that much to you.”

“i never told ya,” Sans croaked. He looped an arm behind Papyrus, melting into the hug. “i never tell ya anything.”

“You are now,” said Papyrus.

Sans said nothing. Neither of them did, for a while. They didn’t even move, both of them rooted to their seats in a long-overdue apology hug. It felt awkward, and after a while Sans was certain he was cramping up. It was a relief when Papyrus let go, and it only made Sans want to hug him more.

“i’m a mess,” said Sans as he wiped his face.

“Perhaps,” said Papyrus, trying a semblance of his signature heroic pose. “Lucky for you, I’m so neat and tidy!”

Sans chuckled, breathless.

There was another awkward pause. Papyrus fiddled with his hands. Sans waited, patiently. He’d done enough talking, he was ready to hear what Paps had to say.

“I will not force you to go on a diet,” said Papyrus, finally.

Sans stared.

He…

He had no idea what to say.

Luckily, Papyrus did.

“At least… not a diet that requires smaller portions. HOWEVER!” Papyrus stood, pointing valiantly at Sans, phalange not a millimeter away from the portly monster’s face. “I MUST INSIST YOU BROADEN YOUR PALETTE! More vegetables, fruits and carried proteins! LESS RED MEAT AND MORE CHICKEN OR FISH! Carbs, sweets, and fatty foods are allowed for breakfast and special occasions! And you will do more outdoor activities with Frisk and I! NYEH HEH HEH!”

Sans gawked.

Papyrus deflated, but he was smiling.

“But you… you may eat as large portions as you and Miss Toriel think is appropriate. And snacks are negotiable,” he held out a hand. “Sound like a decent compromise?”

Sans was pretty sure he was crying again. And laughing. At the same time.

He really did have the coolest brother, above or under ground.