tossing and turning

[dustless]

It seems that human food doesn't really do much for the SOUL.

Well, maybe it would if it had been special food. Frisk vaguely remembers hearing about food made by dear loved ones can help heal heartbreak, and that might be close enough to count.

But they don't really...have that right now. They just have castle-made candies and cakes and fruit, and while that was better than nothing, none of that stops the uncomfortable ache settled in their chest and pulsing through their body.

They also recall a little rabbit child talking about how sleeping could help with that. Well, sleeping in hotels specifically, but that rabbit had been in a hotel, and the castle could probably be called a hotel, albeit one filled with unwilling residents. 

And so they quest to find a place to take a nap, without having to worry as much about being found by a particular troubled skeleton. They haven't given up on him, nowhere near it, but they'd like to be healthy when they meet again just in case. So their usual resting spot of "in the garden" was discarded, since it's right in the middle of everything.

As nice as it had been to be outside during it, their original plan--to hide out on top of a tower and catch a nap there--was foiled by the rain that came with the storm.

So Frisk carefully steals through the castle towers until they find one with a mostly-empty bedroom almost to the top, and try to rest there.

Key word: try.

The bed is very soft and comfortable, and they hover around the hazy edges of sleep for what feels like hours, but they never quite make it there. They're too worried about...sort-of-Papyrus. And Sans. And their friends they left behind, and their friends here, and just--everyone. They can't focus on a goal until they feel better, but they can't rest unless they stop worrying, and so they just cycle through thoughts over and over and over. And their low HP only distracts them even more.

So eventually, Frisk gives up and collapses into a soft-ish chair by the tower's window instead, watching the sky turn oranges and pinks, and a handful of stars appear between swaths of cloud. Maybe they'll be soothed to sleep by the prettiness of it. 


[backdated in the castle's nebulous timeframe of after their 'fight' with S4 and meeting Thor, but before everything else.]

Comments

[dustless]

A few things are starting to weave together in Frisk's mind. just give up, i did and you'll never see 'em again and Gaster and Sans trying to be a weapon, once. Only starting, though. They'll have time to ruminate on things later; now, their mind's already preoccupied with the current subject and blank exhaustion.

"Made." It was more of a confirmation than a question. The hand not bothering with tracing the texture of Sans' head lifted to cover their eyes. "'splains why I freaked him out so much," they mumble, mostly to themselves.

Which leads them to another thought. "...how do you tell time stuff?" From what they sort of gathered from S4, it sounds like it could be dangerous. And they have to admit their own curiosity's a factor too.

[sansational]

Sans nods in weary confirmation of that confirmation. "'made'," he agrees. "more, uh, metaphorically, on my part, though. well...mostly metaphorically." He reaches back to pat Frisk on the hand, as sympathetically as he can manage. "you've gotta remember, kid, our plans didn't account for a human like you. i'm gonna go out on a limb and say the scientists that made s4 didn't think that humans could be like you. when we talked about the anomaly...it's almost like we were talking about a thing. a force, like a tidal wave or a thunderstorm. except one that could use determination."

Well...Sans had thought otherwise. Or at least suspected, on a level that was somehow ruthlessly pragmatic and doggedly optimistic at the same time. It was this suspicion that had first led him to try setting aside his powers, before the full-on apathy had set in. i always thought the anomaly was doing this 'cause they were unhappy, and when they got what they wanted, they would stop. and maybe all they needed was...i dunno. some good food, some bad laughs, some nice friends. He'd been proven rather staggeringly wrong (you're the sort of person who won't ever be happy), but another Sans, it seemed, had been right on the money (nah, i'm rootin' for ya, kid).

He widens his eyes a little at Frisk's question, skeletons not having eyebrows to raise. "...you, uh, you don't just mean looking at clocks, do you?" This time, Sans isn't actively attempting to dodge the question - it's a curious subject, and a fascinating one, that he doesn't expect anyone to be interested in. But that also means he's never really had to explain it.

[dustless]

"Mmm. Determination is...kind of scary." It brought them back from the dead dozens of times. It brings monsters back from the dead, too, but remembering the results of that still make their skin crawl sometimes. It SAVED the world, but it was still something...huge.

Frisk wonders, not for the first time, how much Sans really knows about the anomaly. Anomalies, really. There was Frisk, or-or whoever fell instead of them in his timeline, sure, but they're pretty sure he was dealing with Flowey back then. Before the first human fell, or just after, whatever he'd said during that one conversation.

"No. I mean you--you know more than...almost anybody, I think. And S4-'Pyrus thought you'd get hurt 'cause of time stuff here." Which was one other thing added to their plate of concerns, really, though not too much. They'd said it right to him that Sans was okay, at least in physical-hurt ways.

[sansational]

"almost anybody, yeah. i mean, hypothetically, grillby or someone might just be that good at keeping quiet, but i kinda doubt it." And he kind of hopes not, given how much Sans has needed someone else to talk to about this for a while. "there's gaster, obviously. a certain yellow flower." He and Flowey are not on good terms. Sans continues counting people off on his fingerbones. "you. the other human. and then there's me. and pretty much all the other sanses, as far as i can tell. matters kind of, uh...arranged themselves, so we all wound up in basically the same place in basically the same state. i don't know if any of us started that off, or if it just worked out that way. s4's sans really might have gotten hurt, in a place like this. i dunno. from what i can tell, he sounds even more fragile than me. and i mean, my papyrus knew..."

Sans corrects himself deliberately, and possibly too late. "...knows that i can mess around with time and space a bit. but i don't think it's anything that ever really bothered him. by the time you came along...or, uh, the other human, i guess...i was pretty much just using my powers to mess with him and make sure i could wait until the last possible second to get my station cleaned up.

but the actual knowing...it's, uh, it's not that impressive. i mean, i can't remember everything. and what i can all kind of...runs together. the resets i've lived through and the resets the other sanses have lived through. i even kind of...forgot which one i was, until gaster showed up?" Which should probably be more horrifying than it is, but Sans is just kind of numb to that by now.

"it's not even that i do anything, most of the time. it's more that i...don't? the piece of me that would handle the forgetting just got, uh, switched off. it's not even that i know anything special, i've just seen so much that no one else even realizes ever happened." Flowey would have had to kill everyone in the Underground 500 times, to reach an LV of 9999.

"everyone else, if they get reset a few hours or a few days or a few weeks back, it's like that time never happened. but...i remember. and, and sometimes i can hold on to things." Scarves. Pictures. Blueprints. Notes. "sometimes, i can leave messages to myself. i don't think i can explain how. not sure there's words. sorry."

[dustless]

They make a weird noise at the mention of Flowey. That is good to know, but now they're thinking about all the times he killed them and messed time up with his files when he took the six souls.

Despite themselves, they're starting to feel slightly more awake. Which is why they...kind of catch that correction.

They want to hear it as Sans reassuring himself that he'll get back home, but his tone is all wrong for that. Their hand stills, fingertips lightly resting on the top of his skull, and doesn't start up again through the rest of his words or theirs.

"...but...they did? Remember stuff. Not lots, not like you, but..." This Frisk never did a True Reset, just a normal one. "Papyrus said...talked about being familiar, 'bout knowing me instead of catching me. 'N' Undyne thought I put her under mind control." Frisk's tone is puzzled.

[sansational]

Feeling Frisk's hand go still on his head, the sensation is suddenly uncomfortable, even borderline oppressive. Maybe that's just from the sense that he might have been finally caught out, but it's nevertheless impossible to ignore. So Sans gives a little shake of his head, to shake them off, even as he sounds almost grateful to provide a somewhat more mundane explanation.

"papyrus might have been going off a reaction from me. i definitely knew you, after all. and if your sans is anything like me, he would have heard about the fact that resets are a thing from the work i was doing." Though given how long ago Sans gave up on talking about the resets with Papyrus, it's also entirely possible that Sans, in turn, missed something otherwise hideously obvious about his brother. When you've lived through the same handful of weeks countless times, it's easy to get tunnel vision. "as for undyne..." Sans considers the heroine from the perspective of the world he'd just come from, and chuckles. "hehehe. good point. there's nothing i wouldn't believe she's capable of, anymore." If Undyne proved determined enough to bring herself back from death, she might well have had the ability to remember the resets, just not the words to describe them.

"though, uh, for what it's worth, she kinda thinks all humans have mind control powers. think it started when alphys showed her this one anime. and if they did remember, it's probably like they remembered a dream. or deja vu. i mean, they both actually used to be pretty great about believing me, when i tried to explain about the resets that were, y'know, happening. but then, um...they'd always forget, when the next one rolled around." Sans ducks his head in something like embarrassment, something like shame, tapping his fingerbones anxiously against his leg. It seems like such a pitiful excuse, now, especially to someone like Frisk. "so i kind of, uh, stopped explaining."

merry holiday

[dustless]

Their hand limply bounces off the side of the chair. They leave it hanging.

"Yeah, knew that. Trained the Guard not to listen to her if she was nice to one, too." They were incredibly frustrated at the time, how well that pair had taken Frisk down before they got together, but it's kind of amusing in hindsight. Maybe. It is right now, anyway. This time they can cut the nonsense giggling with just a shaky sigh.

The worried strain he's feeling is telegraphed perfectly well, even though they're mostly only going off by the sounds he's making. Frisk is a lot more forgiving of Sans than Sans is of himself. "Might want to, when you're back," is all they say, voice soft. He clearly needs to talk about this more.

merry holiday!

[sansational]

Sans starts to lie without even thinking about it. "yeah. might want to..." Then he does think about it. Then he stops. Draws his knees up to his chest, rests his chin on his knees, and sighs.

Frisk is clearly trying to get something out of him. And Sans could duck the issue, but he's...tired. He's usually tired, of course, but he's especially tired now, after the most consecutive teleportation he's used since the fight. What does it matter?

(He could have fought them when they'd first stepped out of the ruins with dust on their hands and shoes. He should have fought them then. It probably wouldn't have made a difference, he'd had good reasons at the time for not doing so. But at least Sans wouldn't have stood by and watched all his friends and family die.)

It's a stubborn, almost defiant mumble, but it is a mumble. "...not going back." He's not sure he would even if he could. Gaster is here. A Papyrus without a Sans is here. His family is here, again - broken, strange, lost, but together again. And besides: "Doesn't matter anymore anyway." Even if Asgore goes through with absorbing the six human souls, he won't be able to stop the child. Nothing can. Alphys got away with some of the other monsters, but that won't make a difference in the end, either.

Somewhere else, it all works out. He can hold on to that. That's enough.

[dustless]

Icy dread snakes down through their chest, settling somewhere around their stomach.

Frisk would guess he was sick of the resets, maybe, and giving up. But that doesn't make sense. Sans...Sans would never leave Papyrus. Especially not this one. And now they think they know why.

'Knew.'

And even then, there could be resets, bringing him back, but that--maybe he is tired, but something still doesn't add up.

They can't imagine what.

They can't drum up a response to that thought on its own.

Humans are so strong...

Frisk moves, half sitting up, peering over at the top of Sans' skull. To look for confirmation, maybe. Mostly staying still makes them suddenly feel like they're being crushed.

[sansational]

Sans stares ahead for a long moment, his eyesockets dark, heedless of Frisk's presence and their attention at first. Even when he does return to his senses enough to feel Frisk's gaze fixed on the top of his skull, when Sans tips his head back, he seems faintly surprised to see the human still there. Surprised, and a little wary, because details like a striped shirt and brown hair tend to filter in much more quickly than details like concern in the eyes.

(And even then, what does a promise really mean, to someone with power like Frisk's? Someone who can break a promise a hundred times and keep it the hundred and first?)

A skeleton is always smiling, of course, but from the look on Sans' face otherwise...he wouldn't be, if he had a choice. His voice, otherwise, is...very steady, and very quiet. He's had time, after all, to get inured to certain things, much as he never wanted to. It almost feels like a stranger is speaking in his voice. It otherwise feels so impossible, to be finally admitting this aloud.

If Frisk wants confirmation, fine. Sans did his best to spare them that.

"wasn't even the first time he died, y'know. it, uh...it wasn't even always so terrible? not as, um...not as deaths go." Perhaps one of the greatest struggles of Sans' life is to not get used to his brother's death. He's wanted it to hurt, always hurt, because the idea of feeling nothing to be without Papyrus is almost as horrible as the idea of being without Papyrus.

It was an effort he'd started to fail, at least until the child had decided to change up everything again, and show Sans just how much worse things could get.

"usually, it was like he didn't even know what was happening. wasn't the first time any of 'em died, honestly. the teenagers. the guard. shyren. mettaton. undyne." His voice breaks. Sans finds himself blinking away the warning prickle of tears. He can say the name of every monster who died, that run. He made himself remember. It was the least he owed them. But above all, the one that had always and would alwys hurt the most: "my brother."

The tears become more than a threat. He ducks his head to wipe at his eyesockets. There's a sound like a sniffle, and then a sound like a sob that gets swallowed back into a hiccup. "nah. wasn't the first time any of 'em died. the kid never passed through without killing at least somebody. just to see what happened, i guess. just to see if they could." And they always could, if they were sufficiently determined to try.

"but it was the first time they started killing everyone." Everyone they could reach. Everyone they could hunt down.

Humans are so strong...

[dustless]

It wouldn't have spared them forever. And even if they were repulsed by what they were hearing--well. That sort of thing's never stopped them from moving forward. Even if they see a familiar distrust in the black eyes peering back at them that makes their body stiffen.

Papyrus wasn't dangerous, and one person they loved very much, and they cared for just about everyone in the Underground, but everyone? Everyone. That's harder to wrap their head around. Personally since they'd panicked hard when Asgore died, went back mostly just for that, and just the sense of scale. Not impossible, because they know Flowey's done things, wanted to do things, just...harder.

Until Frisk pictures it simply as going back and finding nothing but dust.

They feel sick.

Distantly, they marvel at how Sans didn't just kill them on sight.

They're tired, tired, tired. They think they've cried themselves out for the night, too, because their eyes just feel prickly instead of damp.

There's no proper thought process, do this because that, but Frisk is very suddenly slipping off the chair to sit on the floor, instead. Technically physically nearer to Sans, but just around the corner.

Their aching SOUL tells them it's still a risk.

They don't care in the least.

[sansational]

He had considered it, for a moment before he'd picked up the frying pan, before Frisk had spoken and shaken Sans to his battered SOUL. Even without karmic retribution to inflict on Frisk's SOUL, Sans could have killed them easily. But for all his power, Sans doesn't like to fight. Even now, he remembers the dozens of times he'd managed to kill the human with a sense of weariness, rather than triumph, and not just because it had ultimately been such a pointless effort.

He's glad he'd held back, one more time. Frisk has been a good friend. Sans is glad to have gotten the chance to know them, and through them the time they came from. He's just absolutely terrified that, like everything else in his life, it won't last.

Dimly, he hears Frisk move, feels their presence shift technically closer to him. Sans makes no move closer to or away from them. He makes no move at all, because his bones feel heavy as lead.

"and here's the thing, kid. that human? the one who killed my brother, and all my friends? the one who wasn't going to stop until they ate our timeline alive? that kid looked a lot like you. same hair. same shirt. only difference is that they never said a word." He presses his face into his knees, though his shoulders still shake with bitter, tired laughter. "hehehe, why would they? we weren't worth the effort. so they never said a word, and...the eyes. those were different, too. whenever i looked them in the eyes, i knew they were empty inside. except, even then, there were moments...when they were different. moments where i could sense something else in them. something more. i looked at them and i thought to myself that here was someone who wanted to do the right thing, once. someone who might even have been a friend, somewhere else."

They let Sans kill them three times. The first time, they probably hadn't expected that they'd been about to die. But the second and third times...they should have known better, and he still can't figure out why they let the knife fall then. Maybe they'd just wanted to take a mulligan on that round. Maybe not.

"so here's the thing. here's what even gaster can't answer for me. here's what's been keeping me up nights. did that kid turn into you? were they listening, when papyrus told them they could be a better person?" His idiot brother, his wonderful brother. When every monster left in Snowdin was evacuating for their lives, he still managed to talk Sans into letting him take up his usual post, to try and talk to the empty-eyed nightmare.

"or, at some point down the line, did you turn into them?"

[dustless]

It hits like an accusation. They don't know if he means it that way, but they're listening and it seems a little more than just getting it all off his chest.

Their eyes are still dry, but their hands are trembling in their lap. They probably owe some kind of answer, anyway, and start saying their thoughts right as they form, voice choppy.

"I didn't do any of that. Don't think any sort of reset would be enough for me to forget doing that. Something that big. Or--or--or killing anybody. But people don't do that for no reason. Maybe that Frisk...was angry. Or actually--or was more scared when they got to the Underground. At first. Enough that...they listened. To Flowey. Was the first person I met, you know? 'Kill or be killed.' And got execution points. Got told about those near the end. And they liked it. Or stopped caring?"

They don't really know. They can't even start imagining the opposite scenario, that they might do that later.

[sansational]

It is an accusation, at heart. It shouldn't be, it's not fair that it is, but the Frisk responsible isn't here and this Frisk is and so he can't stop himself from making it an accusation. It might have started out an ordinary question, but it's been festering a little too long in his ribcage by now. It's an accusation of why couldn't you have been better before you killed him or an accusation of how could you save us and then go back and destroy us. Maybe it's both. Either way.

And maybe it's a little bit of an accusation towards himself, too. Of what right do you have to judge anymore?

Sans is very tired. But he's remembering that Frisk must also be pretty tired, too. The upside of only having one HP is that he never has to carry on with the pain of missing any. They might have murdered his brother, or they might murder him somewhere down the line. The number of timelines that exists approaches infinity.

But...right now, they're still his friend.

"the kid was worth a lot of execution points, y'know. always lost 'em when they came back. glad i did." Because every EXP gained makes everything seem...a whole lot more straightforward. Headily, horribly so.

Maybe things really could just...cascade, that easily, in the wrong directions. One thing on top of another and another. He certainly knows that feeling, just from the past few weeks.

Sans gets up, slowly. He moves around to sit down once more, properly in front of Frisk. And he reaches out to very gently rest a bony hand on their head.

"and then there's you. you, who never gained any LOVE, and instead you gained love." He doesn't know what he said to this Frisk, in that hallway. But all Sanses are still Sans at heart, so some things remain.

"you promised me you wouldn't reset. i look at you, and...it's really easy to believe you, ya know? i look at you, and it's like i know in my bones, you're my friend. so i'm gonna try to keep doing that. just...don't make me regret it, okay?" All he can do is ask, and believe. Neither of which is easy for Sans. But he'll try.

[dustless]

Overwhelmed. That's what they get when they try to settle on how they feel. They've carried weight of others' sins before, only this feels a lot more personal.

They stay still when he moves, too, staring down at their hands curled loosely against their legs. They're still shaking.

Inside them, there's...something similar to what they did when they learned about Sans' HP. Even Flowey hasn't made them distrust themselves so much before. They know they're not going to kill anyone, but now they know someone has. Now they know they might meet friends whose family and friends they've killed. (They don't yet know Sans actually died, too. They'll probably figure it out sometime, but not now.) People they love that only saw their LOVE, and they ache for what they've never known. Just because that one might reset and make them forget most of it doesn't mean it never happened. Even if this Frisk makes friends again and for the first time properly.

Sans doesn't trust them all the way, but he wants to. They want to help him. They don't know how to do anything but what they've already been doing. They want to find that other Frisk and pull them along and ask them why too. Talk them down. Make them stop.

Saying 'I promise' again would feel trite after all of that. They nod solemnly under his hand, instead, and finally look up.

"...Can I hug you?"

They tell themselves they won't mind if he refuses now.

[sansational]

Of all the questions to ask...

...this is probably the one he should have expected Frisk to ask, honestly. So even if Sans looks genuinely surprised for a moment, he laughs in the next one.

He answers by smiling. He answers by leaning forward and hugging them. And if he has a moment of remembering another human, bleeding out in his arms in another time, that just leaves him more determined to be careful when the moment passes. Frisk does feel very small, in his arms, all of a sudden.

And when it does, he feels...better. It's a good hug. Hugs in general are good things, even if Sans pretty much always needs to be asked or invited before giving one. Even if he has to lift a hand to scrub at his eyesockets, for a moment.

As he holds them, Sans appreciates anew just how tired the kid is. No one would have blamed them for fighting back, perhaps - S-4 really had been trying to hurt them, after all. But they hadn't, and Sans is grateful, and still holding on to some hope.

"jeez, kid. you bring out the best in me on a lot of counts, but it's not like i enjoy making a habit of dumping all this in your lap. guess you just have a way of getting me talking. c'mon. lemme at least find you a better place to sleep than here."

[dustless]

Relief rushes through them, comforting warm, and they relax into it.

"You needed it," they mumble into his hoodie's shoulder. That was important, even if it kind of (really) hurt them.

Once the hug is broken--which might not be for a little bit, if Sans doesn't pull away first--they'll just lean back, head flopping against the chair's soft seat.

"Dunno. Don't have to. When I can sleep, it can be anywhere. When I can't...I can't. Anywhere." To Frisk, this spot is as good as any.

It's kind of odd, how often they keep finding each other coincidentally. (Or maybe not, they suspect now, but don't bother putting further thought into it.)

[sansational]

The hug won't be broken for a little bit. Sans might eventually be the first one to pull away, but if anything, he needs this, too.

Even when he does pull away, it's to lean against the wall just beside the chair instead - that way, they remain just around the corner from one another, but at least it's a corner facing in the right direction.

"yeah, i know how that goes. well, the 'sleep anywhere' part." He could lay down right here on the floor and sleep, if he wanted to. Sans has his own fits of insomnia, which feeds into his ability to otherwise sleep anywhere, but they're much rarer on the whole.

"sure i can't talk you into it? i tell a mean bedtime story, y'know." He's mostly kidding, but sleep is supposed to be one of the things that best heals a wounded SOUL. Not that Sans would know personally.

[dustless]

"Mm. You're a cool guy, Sans."

This non sequitur was brought on by...a lot of things. Well. Mostly thinking about Papyrus. The...old Papyrus. He was cool, even if he was kind of weird. And Sans didn't hate them. They were both cool brothers. Frisk is very glad to have met them, even these more sad alternates. They're friends, or can be friends, and they have more hope in the castle than back at their homes and Frisk is glad to know that too.

Their arms stretch above their head before they drop them down and start pushing their body up from the floor. Their limbs feel a little more like jelly than muscle, but the chair's seat isn't that high up.

[sansational]

"heh. well, i did learn from the best."

It might be a non sequitur, but it's also quite a high compliment, knowing who they're both thinking of. If a skeleton could blush, Sans would definitely be blushing.

They're friends, or at least Sans hopes they are. That's not a judgement he makes easily, but even he can see that Frisk wouldn't put themselves out there this much if they didn't care. Sans, meanwhile, probably only cares more about his brothers, at this point. It helps that they keep coincidentally running into each other. Or maybe it's not a coincidence.

Either way, he yawns, and settles down more comfortably in his corner, remembering only in that moment that he'd been on his way to take a nap himself.

"that a yes, or am i just gonna have to settle for being the world's wittiest speedbump right here?"

[dustless]

Maybe Frisk would be the same, eventually. Only caring about those closest to them. But that kind of thing would take a long time.

They would agree if he asked, even if the asking would hurt. They do love him.

"...yes to...story, or...something else?" They've already forgotten what he was offering in the first place. "And. You should go find...bed. Sitting up sleeping is bad for your spine, I think." They realize that's what they're doing, sort of, and move so they're curled up in the chair instead.

[sansational]

Sans' eyes are already closed when he replies: "not for me."

Well, maybe a little for him. But Sans sleeps sitting or standing up often enough to barely notice any lingering aches from doing so, anymore. It helps, being a skeleton held together with magic. It's a lot easier for a ligament or a muscle to nudge a vertebrae out of its place than for magic to do so. Sans presses the back of his hand to one mouth as he yawns again, before adding in a mumble: "probably for you, though."

He was offering half-jokingly a bedtime story, or whatever-time-it-currently-is story. Something to maybe help Frisk get some rest, since the hot dog was something of a failure. Failing that, he was offering to physically block Frisk from getting up from the chair, though that was rather more jokingly given that Sans is barely taller than they are.

But since Frisk doesn't seem inclined to go anywhere just yet, and since they agreed even if they didn't know what they were agreeing to, Sans taps a thoughtful fingerbone against the side of his skull. "hm..." And since "Peek-A-Boo with Fluffy Bunny" might not be the kid's scene, he decides to recall the first chapter of another human book he once read to the point of dogearing. At least that way, he can still recall the first chapter. A book about a school for children who could use magic. He'd liked the words, at least, even if only about half the book had survived the trip down the waterfall.

[dustless]

Their answering hum has a ring of doubt, because they haven't quite thought of that, and Sans doesn't seem like the healthiest anyway. There's no direct calling out, though, since they don't have the energy.

...Frisk recognizes that story. It's a classic.

There are more soothing voices out there than Sans has, maybe, but his words and tone are steady. They close their eyes and listen.

It takes very little time for them to sink into a doze, and any missing words or alterations don't catch their ear enough to jolt them back to awareness.

[sansational]

Sans has a good memory even when it's being muddled by crossed timestreams, so despite the fact that it's been a while since he read half the book, he tells a reasonably accurate recollection of it. Though, by the end, the words are getting interrupted by occasional yawns, and they start to run together a little. But he's had a lot of practice telling bedtime stories. He knows how to pace himself.

By the time he's done, Sans cracks open one eye and peers up at Frisk. Satisfying himself that the kid seems to be dozing, at least, he closes his eye again. It won't take more than a few seconds before he falls entirely motionless, snoring lightly. In the end, it proves to be one of his better sleeps, even if he will feel a little sore in the spine when he finally does wake.