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

[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.

"⌖☟✡ ⌖☟✌❄📪 💧✌☠💧✍"