let's hear it for the boy

[trombones]

Another day, another toddler. Now, there's a small skeleton monster wandering the castle. He's three years old to be exact, but who here could date the exact age of walking, talking bones? It's easy to tell it's Sans. He's shorter than usual, a lot more bug-eyed (socketed, whatever), but that blue jacket and perma-grin are still dare. He's pretty cute for a monster who grew up to be a walking, talking grease machine.

For anyone wandering the library in the middle of the afternoon, you might find a pile of books and blankets piled at a table. The blankets cover most of the table, save for a small "entrance" supported by books. The blanket is just thin enough to see the candlelight inside, as well as a skeleton-shaped shadow.

Should you choose get closer, two pairs of large blue eyes glow from under the entrance and dart out. Two floating skulls, both resembling dogs, speed out and lap several circles around your feet in a flurry of barks and sniffing. Mostly sniffing. They're not really dangerous, they're actually pretty excited by the new company.

Sans pokes his head out.

"Hey! You guys are supposed to be guard dogs!!"

By now, the skulls are yipping and bouncing in their floating spots. Sans groans about as exasperatively as a toddler can get. Which is a lot, if you've ever met a three-year-old. They're pretty sassy. He props himself on his stomach, and in the gap he makes between the entrance and the candlelight, you might be able to catch the pile of Christmas-themed sweets stashed under the table. Like, a lot. He stole a lot of cookies.

"Hi. I'm Sans. This is my... this is my big cool fort. I got treasure and guard dogs and a moat."

He points to a pile of books laid in a uneven circle around the table. That's the moat.

Comments

[voidster]

Oh no, owned by a baby. Whatever shall he do?

Keep on grinning. He kneels down to peer under the table, and the hand vanishes.

"✌💧😐✋☠☝ ☞✋☼💧❄ ✋💧 ☠⚐ ⌖✌✡ ❄⚐ ❄☜💧❄ ✡⚐✞☼ ☞⚐☼❄🕯💧 👎☜☞☜☠💧☜💧 ✌☠👎 ☝✞✌☼👎 👎⚐☝💧📬 ☠⚐⌖ ❄☟✌❄ ✋❄🕯💧 👍☹☜✌☼ ✋🕯💣 ☠⚐ 💣✌❄👍☟ ☞⚐☼ ✡⚐✞📪 ❄☟⚐✞☝☟📬📬📬 💣✌✡ ✋ ☟✌✞☜ ⚐☠☜📪 🚩☹☜✌💧☜✍"

[trombones]

Sans stares down the hand for a moment, expression unchanging but saying nothing regardless. Then it disappears, and he looks to Gaster. He then slowly reaches for the sweets.

"Yeah."

He takes a truffle out and slides it under the blanket.

"S'chocolate. You like chocolate."

That's more of a statement than a question somehow. Obviously, you like chocolate. Sans said so.

[voidster]

Like he'd turn down sweets anytime, anywhere, especially since at least 50% of the time, he's forgotten to sit down and eat a real meal. Thank goodness he's a skeleton and not a hungrier sort of monster!

"✌☟📪 ✡⚐✞ 💧🚩⚐✋☹ 💣☜ 💧⚐📬" he says, partly to amuse himself, and takes the truffle, nibbling a third of it away.

[trombones]

"Bone appetite," Sans says with a giggle. There's crunching from behind the blanket. A lot of crunching, actually.

"Daddhy," says a muffled mouth full of cookies. "Do guard dogsh like cookeesh?"

Oh, wait. Dad told him once that they were magic. The rest of the cookie magically evaporates in his mouth.

"Uhmm. Do magic attacks like chocolate?"

[voidster]

There's no reason they can't be both magic attacks and guard dogs. And that's a very good question, now that he thinks about it. What happens if you feed a Blaster food? It's hardly any weirder than a skeleton eating, who needs a throat and stomach.

"✋ 👎⚐☠🕯❄ 😐☠⚐⌖📬 ⌖☟✡ 👎⚐☠🕯❄ ✡⚐✞ ☞✋☠👎 ⚐✞❄✍"

[trombones]

Exactly. There's no reason why you can't be friends with your own attack. The Blasters weren't hostile if they had nothing to attack. So far, as of San's whole three years of life, they never had a reason to be. Even if they did, Sans' inexperienced magic (though already impressive and unusual for his age) so far put their strength at about puppy level.

They even react like puppies when Sans holds out a handful of cookies to them. They approach slowly and, one brief sniff later, chomp them out of his bony hand. Sans bursts into delighted laughter and pulls back.

"Heheheheh! They like them!"

Sans grabs another handful and offers more. They chomp. He squeals. This goes on for a while.

"Hey... hey, dad. Hey dad. They're really hungry. They were..." Give him a second. "I think they were hungry to the bone."

That's 'starved to the bone', but whatever. He's not good at this yet.

[voidster]

It doesn't matter, he's chuckling at the kiddo anyway, proud. That's pretty damn amazing for a toddler, in his seriously biased opinion. He's created a monster!!

(Haw.)

"✋ ❄☟✋☠😐 ❄☟☜✡🕯✞☜ ☟✌👎 ☜☠⚐✞☝☟📬 💧✌✞☜ 💧⚐💣☜ 👍⚐⚐😐✋☜💧 ☞⚐☼ 💣☜📪 ✋🕯💣 ☠⚐❄☟✋☠☝ 👌🕆❄ 💧😐✋☠ ✌☠👎 👌⚐☠☜📬"

Say something about skin, kiddo, please...

[trombones]

Sans shakes his head. His skull finally peers out from under the blankets.

"Nuh-uh. You don't have skin."

Now he's a critic. He's giggling about it anyway.

[voidster]

"✋ 👎⚐☠🕯❄✍"

He's squinting down at himself, looking very concerned and patting his ribs, his spine, his pockets.

"⌖☟☜☼☜ ✋💧 ✋❄✍ ✋ 😐☠⚐⌖ ✋ ☟✌👎 💧⚐💣☜ 💧⚐💣☜⌖☟☜☼☜📬 👎✋👎 ✡⚐✞ ❄✌😐☜ ✋❄📪 💧✌☠💧✍"

idk if im doing this right even though i babysat most of my teens but kids say shit like this anyway

[trombones]

Somehow, this is hilarious. Sans keeps giggling, and settles on his stomach as he watches Gaster pat himself.

"No! You NEVER had skin!!"

Which is kind of stating the obvious, but it's also what kids do. The grin on Sans face spreads even wider, and he covers his mouth up to hide a snicker. He's clearly getting a kick out of this.

"I put it..." More snickering, the kind that usually spoils a good joke when you're trying to tell it. Toddler edition. "I put it in the washing machine. It was too stinky."

hell if I know, I don't actually kids

[voidster]

He's cracking up and can't seem to stop. Lousy poker face for a skeleton, really, and this is too cute. Hey, he's having fun too.

"⌖☜☹☹✏" He throws up an arm in a show of overdramatic defeat. "💧☟✌💣☜ ⚐☠ ✡⚐✞📬 👎⚐☠🕯❄ ✡⚐✞ 😐☠⚐⌖ ✡⚐✞ ☟✌✞☜ ❄⚐ ⌖✌💧☟ 💧😐✋☠ 👌✡ ☟✌☠👎✍ ✋❄🕯💧 ☼✞✋☠☜👎 ☠⚐⌖ ✌☠👎 💧⚐ ✋🕯💣 👎⚐⚐💣☜👎 ❄⚐ ☝⚐ 💧😐✋☠☹☜💧💧 ❄☟☜ ☼☜💧❄ ⚐☞ 💣✡ ☹✋☞☜📬"

A short pause and his grin widens...

"📬📬📬☠⚐ 💣✌❄❄☜☼ ☟⚐⌖ 💣✌☠✡ 👍⚐⚐😐✋☜💧 ✋ ☜✌❄📬"

[trombones]

Another snicker. Sans lowers his head just a little more. The Blasters do the same and peer through the blanket, so low to the ground and they're settled on the floor now.

"What's cookies have to do with it?"

[voidster]

He crouches back down, solemn look on his face and in his eyesocket... and a real hand, attached to a real arm, reaching forward for a cookie.

"✡⚐✞ 💧☜☜📪 ☠⚐⌖ ❄☟✌❄ ✡⚐✞🕯✞☜ ⌖✌💧☟☜👎 ✌⌖✌✡ 💣✡ 💧😐✋☠📪 ✋ ☟✌✞☜ ❄⚐ ☜✌❄ ❄⌖✋👍☜ ✌💧 💣✌☠✡ ⚐☞ ✡⚐✞☼ 👍⚐⚐😐✋☜💧📬 ⚐☼ ☜☹💧☜ ✋🕯☹☹ ⌖✌💧❄☜ ✌⌖✌✡ 💧⚐ 💣✞👍☟ ✋ 👌☜👍⚐💣☜ ✋☠✞✋💧✋👌☹☜📬"

[trombones]

"..."

Sans' eyes widen from the very little bit of space between the edge of the blanket and the floor. A long moment passes, and he sits up.

"Really?"

He doesn't sound like he's having fun anymore. He also kind of forgot that this was pretend, somehow. Maybe the serious look on Gaster's face convinced him. He slides the plate out from under the blanket.

[voidster]

Whoops. Foot, meet mouth. The plate makes an appearance, and he's patting Sans's hand a moment later, instead of taking a cookie. Such a small bony hand, on such a young skeleton... his expression softens.

"☠⚐📪 ☠⚐❄ ☼☜✌☹☹✡📬 ✋🕯💣 ⚐☠☹✡ 💣✌😐✋☠☝ ❄☟✋☠☝💧 ✞🚩 ✌☝✌✋☠📬 ✋🕯💣 ☠⚐❄ ☝⚐✋☠☝ ❄⚐ 👎✋💧✌🚩🚩☜✌☼📪 👍⚐⚐😐✋☜💧 ⚐☼ ☠⚐ 👍⚐⚐😐✋☜💧📬"

Somehow a pat on the hand has turned into holding that hand, which is swallowed up by Gaster's much larger one.

"✡⚐✞ 👎⚐☠🕯❄ ☟✌✞☜ ✌☠✡❄☟✋☠☝ ❄⚐ 👌☜ ✌☞☼✌✋👎 ⚐☞📬"

[trombones]

Sans is quiet. Most of him is still under his table-fort, which is hand sticking out as Gaster takes it. A long moment passes, until the rest of him crawls out.

"Okay."

He sniffs. He wasn't crying, but he looked like he might have if he got the wrong answer. He shuffles next to Gaster's feet. He looks down at the floor for a moment, then nods slowly.

"I was making things up too. I didn't put you in the washing machine."

Toddler priorities: feeling guilty over goofy, made-up things.

[voidster]

"👍⚐💣☜ ☟☜☼☜📬📬📬"

His hipbones settle onto the floor gently, where he sits cross-legged and reaches out for the boy, gently. This makes two people who feel a little guilty. Feelings, right?

Only Sans has the chance to hear this particular soothing tone of voice, really. Only when he's speaking Wingdings can he be comforting, out loud.

"✋ 😐☠⚐⌖ ✡⚐✞ ⌖☜☼☜📬 ⌖☜ ⌖☜☼☜ 👌⚐❄☟ 👌☜✋☠☝ 💧✋☹☹✡📬"

[trombones]

Sans wastes no time crawling into his lap. He settles comfortably in his favorite spot like he always did, leaning against Gaster's "chest" and relaxed.

"Yeah," He says quietly, nodding. "But s'different. We're not home anymore. What if we got lost?"

Meaning: he's thought about this before.

[voidster]

His undamaged hand rubs Sans's skull, reassuringly. Comfort is comfort, whether or not you have skin and other soft bits.

"✡⚐✞🕯☼☜ ☼✋☝☟❄📬 ⌖☜🕯☼☜ ☞✌☼ ☞☼⚐💣 ☟⚐💣☜ ✌☠👎 ⚐✞❄💧✋👎☜ ❄☟☜ 👌✌☼☼✋☜☼📬🕈" he says, because he never has believed in withholding information from anyone without damn good reason, including this smart little boy. And the best way to keep a child calm is to be calm yourself.

"✌☠👎 ✡⚐🕆🕯☼☜ ☠⚐❄ ✌☹⚐☠☜📬 ✋🕯💣 ☟☜☼☜📬 ⌖☜🕯☼☜ ☠⚐❄ ☹⚐💧❄📪 ☠⚐❄ ☼☜✌☹☹✡📬 ⌖☜🕯☼☜ 👌☼✌✞☜ ☜✠🚩☹⚐☼☜☼💧📪 ☹☜✌☼☠✋☠☝ ✌☹☹ ✌👌⚐🕆❄ ❄☟✋💧 👍✌💧❄☹☜📬 ⌖☟☜☠ ⌖☜ ☝⚐ ☟⚐💣☜📪 ✡⚐✞ 👍✌☠ ❄☜☹☹ ☜✞☜☼✡⚐☠☜ ✌👌⚐✞❄ ✋❄📬"

[trombones]

"Why?"

'Why are we here', he means. Sans settles so that his side is laid against Gaster's chest, his little legs dangling over the other's. He glances up.

"Where's home?"

[voidster]

...There's no answer to that second question, let alone any good answers. Where are they? How and why? How do they get back home where they belong, and what happens to these lost children afterwards?

His hand stills, resting on Sans's head.

"⌖☟✡ ⌖☟✌❄📪 💧✌☠💧✍"