Look at me still talking when there's science to do (Open Post)

[sansational]

Sans is starting to get a handle on this place. Perhaps more to the point, and more potentially useful, is that he's started to get a handle on its inhabitants. There are a few that he keeps a personal eye on on a semi-regular basis, even if they don't always know it. The rest, he's just made note of their passage and their movements. It's all for professional purposes, of course.

And that means that, when he's finally ready to do so, Sans can make contact with every person currently in the castle, either in-person if he knows them by name or by leaving a note somewhere they'll see it if he doesn't yet. Whether by spoken or written word, the message is nevertheless always the same. It's a request to meet him in the ballroom with the cakes table at a certain time and place. From his observations, it seems to be one of the more stable rooms in the castle, so everyone should be able to find it. 

On the stated day, at the stated time, everyone will...still have to wait five minutes for Sans to pull himself together after a nap, remember what he's supposed to be doing, and suddenly appear inside the room, still in the process of hastily smoothing out his notecards. 

"so, uh, yeah," he says, looking from the assembled residents to the cards and back again. "should probably explain what you're all doing here. so. i'm sure you've all noticed that this castle has got some weird things going on, above and beyond the whole, uh...stealing us from across time and space thing. i'm also assuming that most of you want to go home and won't mind helping me figure out a way to get us there." He gestures at the table. "to do that, i'm gonna need to start testing some of these theories. guesswork is fun, but it doesn't get us anywhere. timing how long it takes this place to reset something seems like a good start. and so this particular experiment runs as cleanly as possible, uh...i'm gonna need your help eating everything on that table. like, all of it. just don't choke on any shiny bits." 

Message delivered, Sans crams the notecards back in his pocket, and spreads his arms in silent indication for everyone to dig in. 

((ooc: Post comments for your characters that can be replied to, and mingle as you see fit! Eat, drink, be merry, have food fights, and try to be sick outside!))

Comments

I AM DOOMED. DOOMED TO BE EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED BY SKELETONS.

[systematicsupport]

Sans-Serif is... angry. It's so strange to see him angry. He never liked the scientists back at the facility of course, but he never argued with them, and barely even reacted if given a command. Why would mentioning the other Sans upset him so badly? S-4 just can't comprehend it. It's not as if S-4 cared for him more...

"Y-Yes it does... it's you. He's n-not really you, but he sort of is, and I don't want you to get mad at me... please stop getting mad at me..."

He's shaking badly, magic flickering on and off, as he struggles against his sibling's grip. He knows what they must do, he knows it's important and he feels sick to protest against something that will keep his brother safe, but he just can't do this. There has to be another way.

He doesn't have the strength to keep speaking, but he's still silently protesting in his expression and from the way he keeps sending his magic out in quick bursts, resonating with Sans-Serif's soul and trying fruitlessly to calm him down.

Thankfully, Sans' seems to notice their predicament, and S-4's almost cries with relief as Sans-Serif halts to observe his double. He takes a few steps closer to Sans-Serif's side, stammering out an explanation.

"S-Sans! Please, i-it's my brother, he wants to fight and I can't stop him..."

And judging from his own magic stuttering to life, he can't really stop himself, either. His gaze settles on Frisk for a minute, and his arm goes slack in his brother's grip, before he shakes himself out of the control long enough to focus on something, anything else.

WE ARE DOOMED TOGETHER.

[antitemporal]

But what if he does care for this Sans more? What if he cares about everyone here more than he cares about Sans-Serif? It's not like he ever chose to care about his fellow experiment before. The scientists made him care. Why would they have done that, if Sans-Serif was someone who could be cared about without that? His brother has lived here all on his own for a month and he smiles at people without looking scared and he has cake to eat and another brother who stands like he isn't afraid of anything. He's changed and they're good and strong changes and Sans-Serif hasn't changed at all.

(He sneaked away, once, to listen in one of the conditioning sessions. He'd wondered for a long time before that why S-4 was always even more attentive and even more scared when he came back, wondered what could do that to a monster.

He hadn't even seen anything, he'd only heard, but it meant that he'd never wondered again.)

The little pulses of energy aren't entirely fruitless. They keep Sans-Serif from trying to bodily teleport the two of them over to Frisk or away from Sans. They keep his hand holding tight to the other skeleton's, because even if he doesn't always understand the love his brother feels for him, neither can he ignore it. He even moves to try and stand in front of S-4, rather than behind him as he usually might, as he sees not only himself, but the anomaly coming nearer. If his brother is determined to shy away from his purpose, Sans-Serif will just support them both this time.

Then he hears the relief in S-4's voice to be addressing another him, and it feels as though he's been stabbed through the soul. He thinks back on the words his brother had been saying to him, not just the pleading tone, and it's as though his mind is full of fog.

"i'm not..." He stammers. Closes his mouth. Tries again. He looks back at S-4, and the tears he sees there don't make anything easier. "i'm not mad at you." How could he be mad at S-4? He is mad, but at...himself? Frisk? Everything?

"relax, s-4." Sans offers him a reassuring smile over the top of his counterpart's head. He doesn't have to look around to sense Frisk standing there. That could make things worse...or it might make things easier. Sans has been surprised before. "no one's fighting anybody today."

"but..."

"you're making your brother cry, kid. i've lived a long and messed up life, and even i never sunk that low." Sans-Serif tears his gaze away from S-4 to glare fiercely at Sans. Sans is entirely unmoved. "why wouldn't he think you're mad at him? you're talking about hurting one of his friends."

"his..."

He looks at his brother. Looks at himself. And then his gaze meets Frisk. Sans-Serif sputters in outright disbelief, shaking his head.

I WILL BURN IN SKELEHELL.

[systematicsupport]

But he doesn't. He literally can't care for anyone else more than his brother. It's his brother, the one person he's been searching for all this time. The one person his entire existence was made for. The one his mind was wired to see as important and in need of protection and love.

He didn't remember the conditioning sessions, but he doesn't really care. Even without them, he knows, especially after speaking with the other Sans, that Sans-Serif would be his most important person no matter what.

Which is why he needs to get his brother help, so he can stop thinking about what the scientists told him and start thinking about this new world he and his fellow experiment can be free in together.

He moves forward slightly, still holds his body in front of Sans-Serif, because even if getting closer to Frisk is dangerous right now, it'd be more dangerous for his sibling, with his low health and his overloaded magic. He keeps sending soothing pulses back, despite his own trembling, despite the fact that he looks about ready to launch himself at frisk.

The twinge in Sans-Serif's soul makes him move back, concern overwhelming conditioning for a moment, as he moves closer to him, pulls the smaller skeleton against his side.

"Y-You seemed mad," he finally says, as if in agreement with Sans. "I don't want you to be mad, b-but I don't want to fight anyone here."

They've all been so nice, have looked after S-4 even when he did things that would have warranted punishment back at the facility. He knows they'll take care of Sans-Serif too. If he can at least start to accept being taken care of.

"It's true, brother... Frisk is my friend. I know they'd want to be your friend too... we don't have to hurt someone being so nice, do we?"

[dustless]

Frisk is very careful when they move nearer. They can dodge S-4 if they need to, or Sans-Serif, they're sure. But they've overheard enough of their conversation that they very much hope they won't need to.

"We don't--none of us want to fight. None of us want to get hurt. Or hurt each other." Their gaze darts over each of the skeleton brothers before settling back on Sans-Serif.

"I would really like to be friends with someone S-4 loves so much," they tell him solemnly.

[antitemporal]

None of this is happening the way it's supposed to. No one is acting the way they're supposed to. His brother is holding him back and his future looks so ordinary as to be strange in his own right. And the anomaly is being...kind? Frisk is being kind. Nicer than most of the people he was surrounded with on a daily basis were, certainly. He doesn't know what to do about that. He doesn't know what to do about any of this. His life up until now has been cold and dark (except when it's too bright and loud) but at least he's always known what to do...

As Frisk moves nearer, Sans-Serif finds himself moving more firmly behind his brother. It's starting to sink in at least that he is, in some well-meaning but no less undeniable way, outnumbered on this point. And even now, especially now, he feels safer there, especially if S-4 is still willing to stand between Sans-Serif and any potential danger.

But when they mention his brother, he risks peering around S-4 once more to regard Frisk with different eyes. His eyesockets are still very dark, but not entirely empty.

"...don't want to fight either," he finally mumbles. Unconsciously, his gaze darts left then right, as though to reassure himself that there really aren't any scientists here, before he adds: "don't like fighting." Or at least, he doesn't like the combat simulations that led to him falling down in the first place. Beyond that, he doesn't know. "but that's what i'm for." If he's not doing what he's for, he might as well just go back to sleep. Right?

"so was i, once upon a time." Sans shrugs airily, as though the entire thing weighs no more than a fly on his shoulder. "you know what my 'grand purpose' worked out to in the end?" He shows much less hesitation than Frisk in moving nearer. Until, moving suddenly quick as a cat, he leans down until he's eyesocket-to-eyesocket with his past self.

"A dead world, a dead me, and a dead brother."

Sans-Serif makes a very soft, very terrified little sound, and then promptly wraps his arms around S-4 from behind and buries his face against his brother's ribcage. Sans, meanwhile, straightens up and steps away.

"whereas, friendship? it's pretty great. i think you'll learn to like it."

[systematicsupport]

A lot of things in the castle aren't the way S-4 expected, but it's not like that's bad. Humans aren't dangerous, food has colours and flavours, there are beds with warm comforters and a library with more words than S-4 will ever be able to read... All in all, it's a good thing, being here. It's ordinary, but it's safe. That's all S-4 can hope for regarding Sans-Serif.

He lets his fellow experiment stay behind him, holding one arm out just to hopefully block anyone from getting too close to Sans-Serif before he's ready. Which hopefully won't be for too long; already he's starting to relax, starting to question what he's supposed to do. S-4 can feel pride well up in him, knowing his brother feels the same way about fighting. Neither of them should have to do this. They obviously don't want to.

S-4 is about to explain that when Sans speaks, and he falls silent. He knows the other Sans' story, but... it isn't easy to hear at all, and even less easy to hear when it's being directed at his sibling with what seems to be the intent of causing distress. S-4 inhales sharply, standing up a little straighter while sending another burst of soothing magic back to his brother.

"D-Don't scare him like that! He's just confused. I... I know he can move past this if he tries."

He turns his head to look back at his brother, smiling softly, but as reassuringly as he can manage.

"Brother? If you don't want to fight... you don't have to here. We don't have to do anything we don't want to anymore. There aren't any scientists here. We're not in the lab. We're... we're free.

"I know it's hard to believe. I didn't believe it either, when I got here. But... this is a safe place. We can be together here. N-No one will ever split us up again. So... we don't have to do things we don't want to anymore just so we can stay with each other. I'm not going to leave you. N-Not again..."

He turns as much as he can in his sibling's grip, tears returning as he kneels down and wraps his sibling in another tight hug.

[dustless]

Alarm flashes over Frisk's face, and it takes effort not to turn sharply to look at their Sans. (Yes, he's theirs now. It's easier to think of. Things will get confusing if one from a peaceful timeline comes by, but that isn't now, so they don't think of it.) Quick movements don't seem like a good idea when things are this tense.

They haven't heard that particular voice of his in quite some time, not sounding threatening, but that's not really anything compared to the fact he says he died. They make a motion--a handsign that they're pretty sure means 'calm down'--but there's more concern than actual chiding in their expression for him, now.

"Yeah. It's nice here," they repeat their words to Sans-Serif from earlier. "S-4 is...completely right. Nobody here wants to make you fight, at all. 'S time for learning a lot of better stuff." I'll help is wordless, but definitely in their tone, directed at everyone there. They want to go pat S-4 on the back or hug him too, but they guess their support will have to do.

[antitemporal]

In his other self's eyesockets, Sans-Serif sees...things. A golden hallway, a red scarf in the snow, something gleaming and sharp. None of these are details that he can understand on his own. He just knows that they herald terrible things. So if that's what fighting leads to...then no. No. He doesn't want to. He won't. Ever, ever. No matter who tries to make him.

(All of them are a little bit connected. Sans-Serif isn't strong enough to see such things on his own. Sans is strong enough for both of them.)

Sans-Serif does loosen his grip a little, when he realizes what his brother is trying to do, only to return the hug just as fiercely when it's given. There are a lot of ways to keep two people apart. He's been separated from his brother when they're both within one another's line of sight plenty of times. So the idea of being able to be near and spend time with his brother whenever he wants to might, in a way, be the hardest idea to come to terms with. Cakes and kind humans are just impossible. Freedom goes against everything he's ever lived, instead of everything he's ever been told.

But he does pull away after a moment of reassurance, just enough to lift his head and look at Frisk over S-4's shoulder. "...dr. gaster says i'm really smart." So he can learn better stuff, if he has to.

"and that is not something gaster says lightly."

"but i'm really tired," Sans-Serif mumbles. He ducks his head back down against S-4's shoulder, clearly embarrassed to be admitting as much. "sorry."

"i would be, too, if i'd had a day like his." Sans is pretty sure he felt exactly the same way on his first day here in the castle, actually. Frisk was the only reason he didn't lay down and sleep right there in the graveyard. He nods at Frisk in acknowledgement of this fact, and then frowns faintly at the concern he sees there. He would have expected chiding.

(Sans isn't entirely sure if he's feeling okay. If he's not, it's the sort of "not okay" that's familiar enough to easily go unacknowledged, in the same way that the color of his coat is.)

"anyway, s-4, maybe you should both find a nice quiet corner. somewhere your brother can catch a nap. as for me..." Sans pulls his pencil back out of his pocket and sighs tiredly. "i should get back to inventory. thanks for your help, frisk." He gives the human a little wave, and then turns away and makes to head back towards the rest of the gathering.

[systematicsupport]

S-4 doesn't see things, and if he does, they're far more fuzzy and dreamlike than his brother's visions, but he knows the story. He knows what treating the anomaly like an enemy got them, and he doesn't want either of them to have to go through it if they can help it.

He wishes this Sans also had avoided that fate, but the best S-4 can do with him is support and love him regardless of his past. He'll support them both, so they don't have to fight and they can live peacefully in this castle. As long as it takes them to understand that, S-4 will be there.

He looks back at Frisk with a grateful smile. Showing kindness to his brother even when he was threatening to carry out his mission would take a lot of bravery and strength, and Frisk just continues to amaze him by showing that strength.

"You are really smart! You were way better at the puzzles and tests than I was... so you can learn a lot. And then maybe you could teach me some of it."

But that will have to wait, obviously. Sans-Serif is exhausted, and though S-4 originally feels a tinge of worry, monitoring his brother for any more signs of falling down, he looks like he's just needing the rest to take all of this in. He gently cups the back of Sans-Serif's head with his hand, letting him lean farther onto his shoulder as he returns his gaze to the other version of his brother and the human.

"I'll take him somewhere safe. Thank you both... so much." His gaze focuses on Sans, and for a minute, he frowns, sensing something off in his mannerisms.

"Um... Sans?" he calls out before his other sibling gets too far away. "...take care of yourself. I-If I come back later, can we talk, please?"

He's not going to let the appearance of Sans-Serif prevent him from looking after Sans as well. They're both his brothers, no matter which one of them is his 'real' one, and he can't imagine picking one over the other. He just needs time to focus on each of them individually.

Sans-Serif will have to come first this time. S-4 carefully picks up the smaller skeleton so he can still lean against his taller brother's ribcage, and walks him out of the ballroom, off to find a spare bedroom.

Luckily, there's one near Sans' room, and S-4 is pleased to think that he can watch over both of them easily. He pushes open the door before walking Sans-Serif over to the bed.

"...It's not the same as the stasis pods, but I hope you can rest here."

[antitemporal]

Sans stops in his tracks as S-4 calls for him. He's incapable of doing anything else. For a moment, he just stands there, looking straight ahead, seeing nothing. But after a moment, he looks back and offers his sort-of brother a smile that doesn't look like it hurts, coupled with a jaunty salute.

"sure thing. i've always got time for you, bro." As long as S-4 wants him around, Sans will be there. And the tension in his shoulders seems to ease a little, at the promise of a talk in the future. It's probably going to mostly involve a lecture for terrifying his other self, but Sans is okay with that. A lecture is better than nothing.

He turns away before Sans-Serif manages to lift his head. So Sans-Serif settles for offering Frisk the tiniest possible wave, before slumping back against his brother's reassuring presence.

He doesn't really pay attention to where they go or how long it takes to get there. He just...tries to think. His thoughts drift towards his future and his past, his purpose and his choices. In the way of those deep in thought, when Sans-Serif finally speaks again, it's to pick up a train of thought that he might not have given any outward sign he was following.

"i never said 'thank you'. i wanted to, but i never said it."

He flails and fumbles a little, when settled on the bed. The softness of the mattress is entirely unfamiliar to him, though it is a little like the weightlessness the pod provides. Sans-Serif manages to push himself upright on the second attempt, looking around, taking stock. He finds the blanket, gathers it up, and wraps it entirely around himself. That's a little better.

[systematicsupport]

This is good. It's not perfect, but it's better. Eventually, S-4 will find a way to make sure they both get an even amount of his attention, but for now, he knows Sans is satisfied with the promise to speak later. Hopefully he knows it's going to be a good talk. Hardly any lectures will be involved. He doesn't really have the heart to scold his siblings much.

S-4 was lost in thought on his way to the bedroom, but he followed a different path entirely than Sans-Serif was, so the words cause him to falter, surprised.

"Why would you want to thank me? I haven't done anything."

Or, at least, he hasn't done anything he wasn't designed to do. It was completely natural to look after his brother and protect him. Why should he be thanked for doing something so synonymous with his existence?

To take his mind off that, he helps Sans-Serif get settled in bed, pulling the covers over him before going over to the window and pulling the blinds closed, hoping the light from outside won't be too much for Sans-Serif to take in.

[antitemporal]

"yeah," says Sans-Serif, stubbornly. "you did." He does in general, really, but he can at least accept that his brother doesn't see anything important or notable about that, even if Sans-Serif is starting to find the words to disagree. In this particular instance, however, he has a particular incident in mind. Even if the memory of it makes him curl up even smaller as though to hide from it, pulling the blanket up and over his head in the way Sans sometimes does with his hood.

"with...with that last experiment. w-with the noise. and the light.."

He might have been designed to look after Sans-Serif, but he'd also been designed to obey. They both had. What was acceptable in caring for his brother, what constituted "safe" or "well", had always been for the scientists to decide and define. By rights, S-4 should have stayed where he'd been chained, waited in the expectation of piecing his brother back together after the experiment had ended.

But he hadn't done that. He'd acted in accordance with his purpose, but he'd chosen what that meant. Sans-Serif's last proper memory before waking up here was of his brother making the choice to protect him in his own way, acting out against the scientists who had created and tried to define them. Now that he can look back on that moment with a clearer mind, he can appreciate what a significant moment it must have been, for both of them.

"'m sorry i didn't stay awake and tell you that before."

[systematicsupport]

"...Oh."

S-4 had wondered why Sans-Serif had suddenly resorted to hiding under the blankets, but when he mumbles out a reminder of that unpleasant memory, the taller skeleton has to fight the urge to just crawl under the blankets with him. He doesn't want to talk about that any more. It was bad enough constantly remembering the fact that Sans-Serif had indeed fallen down, but going back to the day it happened causes him to feel numb, like he's turning to dust.

...He hated so much that day. He hated the light, and the sounds, and the quiet, desperate noises his brother was making, and the chain around his wrist. He hated the scientists, and he hated the purpose the two of them were created for. He hated Gaster for stopping him before he could have gotten his revenge. He hated himself, for failing to safe his fellow experiment in time.

More than anything, he hated that he was capable of hating that intensely.

He had tried not to get angry here. He wouldn't allow himself to be upset or annoyed with anyone. Even if they did cause him trouble, he waved it off, because... the only other option besides forgiving them is opening himself up to the possibility of hating again. He doesn't ever want to be so cruel again.

It's another reason why he wanted to overcome his conditioning. He has a feeling it's that part of him that's capable of hatred. Even if that side has the same purpose, and the same desire as S-4, the way he goes about it is so wrong. He wants to protect his brother the way a normal being would, not the way a tool would be commanded to.

S-4 flinches just slightly at his sibling's words. He's sorry. He's sorry? That's not the way he's supposed to feel. He wasn't the one who had done anything wrong. Quickly, he grips Sans-Serif's hand, his own apologies tumbling out.

"You shouldn't apologize to me. I'm sorry I didn't protect you. I-If I had been quicker, if I hadn't focused on the scientists first, I could have shielded you. I-I was foolish. What I did was wrong. I-I don't deserve your apology, or your forgiveness. I... I'm bad."

He knows he is. The scientists told him as much after the incident. Frisk looked at him with the fear no one would show a good person. Even Sans had said so. What he had done was wrong.

[antitemporal]

Sans-Serif is about to protest that S-4 did shield him, he remembers the light getting cut off by that dome of bones that had barely let so much as a chink of the outside world in. He's about to protest, because all Sanses are basically Sans at heart, that S-4 hadn't been meant to protect him as he had but he'd still done so anyway. He'd been set up to fail, but had tried to succeed.

He's about to try and argue all of this, even if he's still not very good with words, when what his brother says next makes Sans-Serif's eyes flicker with shock.

"w-what?"

Bad? S-4 thinks he's...bad? The brightest, kindest soul Sans-Serif has ever known thinks he's a bad person?

He might be angry if he wasn't so horrified, even if he doesn't have the words to describe what horrified feels like. Instead, moving entirely on reflex, Sans-Serif lunges forward to wrap his arms around his brother, as though to physically shield him from the very idea.

"no. you're not bad." His voice is a mumble, but there's a note of stubbornness there all the same, a note of unbending steel. "you're not. you're good." He squeezes tighter for a moment, as though to impress the words on S-4's very bones. "you're good and, and i always hated that they made you waste being good taking care of me." Because his soul isn't strong enough and he's incapable of feeling enough to care about S-4 the same way that S-4 cares about him. "i, i was awake, sometimes. in the pod. and i heard you and dr. gaster talking and him giving you puzzles. and you sounded happy. and...and i don't know if you were ever happy taking care of me. s-so sometimes i thought it would be okay if i just stayed like that forever, because they'd never chain you up or make you go back to that room if i wasn't there...i could listen to you being happy and i could be happy, too..."

[systematicsupport]

He shielded him, but it wasn't quick enough. He had wasted time using his magic on the scientists, instead of on the one who needed his protection. He can't believe he was set up to fail. There's no way even the scientists would be that cruel. They'd always told S-4 to protect his brother. Why would they make it so that it was impossible?

He nods gently. He is bad. He just... knows that he is. At his sibling's shock, S-4 almost considers running the other way. He's done his part. He's gotten Sans-Serif to safety. He shouldn't burden him anymore. But before he can, he's practically knocked off balance by his brother's fierce hug. He stands there stiffly for a moment, unable to understand why in the world Sans-Serif is being so nice to him.

After all, S-4 had failed him. S-4 had ignored him for puzzles and games. S-4 had abandoned him and come to this castle without even trying to get his fellow experiment free.

He slumps down slightly, clutching at Sans-Serif's drab clothes tight enough to wear holes in the fabric. He shudders violently at his brother's words, looking at him with the same horror Sans-Serif was experiencing.

"I-It was never a waste! You're my brother, Sans-Serif. I care about you more than anything. E-Even before the sessions, I know I did. The Sans here... h-he said his brother cared a lot, and he wasn't forced to. You... you deserve anything I can do for you. You're so special."

He can feel his eyesockets tingling again with the promise of more tears, and his emotion is overflowing out of him, so intensely that he can't seem to control his voice anymore. It raises up in a desperate yell, his eyelights flaring bright orange as he stares at his brother.

"I could never be happy without you!"

He was content here. He had friends, and freedom, and new things to see and do. But he was never happy. Not as happy as he is just knowing Sans-Serif gets to experience all this too. He grips Sans-Serif's shoulders, his trembling hands jostling the smaller skeleton slightly, before his voice becomes quiet again, muffled by tears.

"It wouldn't be okay. I was waiting for you to wake up, and it was s-so long, and I was so worried, but I couldn't give up because you had to wake up, I knew you wouldn't leave me alone... no matter if things were better or worse, y-you just can't leave me..."

[antitemporal]

Any protest Sans-Serif could possibly have mustered dies on his teeth at the look in S-4's eyesockets. His brother looks...horrified, and anguished, all the things that Sans-Serif wanted to spare him from feeling and now he's making him feel those things. He's so stunned and so lost that he couldn't have spoken up even if he'd wanted to, as S-4's words wash over him like a cold tide.

Because what can he say, in the face of that? When S-4 is insisting to the point of tears that he's loved, when real evidence of a future where things could be different exists here in the castle with them? Sans-Serif has always wanted to be certain of what his brother's true feelings are. There can be no doubt, in the face of those tears and that grip on his shoulder. This isn't his brother's training. This is his brother's soul, and Sans-Serif is overwhelmed to realize it.

To deny what his brother is insisting would be to deny him his feelings, in the same way that the scientists always tried to, in the same way that Gaster always tried to avoid. And in being confronted with S-4's true feelings, Sans-Serif finds himself equally overwhelmed with his own. His bones rattle just a little as he's jostled, but he barely feels it, certainly not compared to the hot, bright tears gathering in his own eyesockets.

"i won't." It hurts to talk. His voice breaks on just those two words. But Sans-Serif curls his hands into fists, grits his teeth, and tries again. "i won't. i...i promise. w-we'll be together, like you said. i'm here now a-and i'm sorry i didn't know before but i do now and i won't leave you, ever, ever..."

He seizes his brother in a hug again, as though to make up for his absence before with proximity and presence now. He hugs his brother and sobs in equal parts terror and wonder at the future stretching out before them, and more love than he'd ever thought he was capable of feeling.

[systematicsupport]

Sans-Serif is not making S-4 feel anything. It's all him and his overactive emotions, not that he cares. He would much rather suffer these horrible feelings and know they were real than be anything the doctors wanted him to be. He knows they both suffered enough, trying and failing to be the kind of weapons the scientists expected. Here, they can finally be something... real. They can be real brothers.

So he lets himself cry, lets his soul overflow with emotions so strong his chest almost glows, and when Sans-Serif starts to tear up too, as much as he wants to stop him, let his sibling be calm and happy, he also knows this is something Sans-Serif needs to feel.

He tries to quiet his sobs enough to listen to his sibling's words, and he can feel his grief and fear slowly be replaced by a third, brighter emotion: hope. Hope that they will always be together, hope that Sans-Serif truly understands, hope that their future can be so very bright together. The light in his eyesockets soften, and his expression of desperation turns into a smile that's gently understanding yet fiercely loving.

He rests his head against the top of Sans-Serif's skull, hugs him and lets all his hope and love filter into the smaller skeleton, even as he tries to speak past his tears again.

"It's okay. I-It's okay, brother. We're together now. We're safe. I-I love you, so, so much..."

[antitemporal]

His soul almost does seem to be glowing. In this moment, his brother seems...so bright and so strong and so, so wonderful that Sans-Serif can't believe he would ever consider himself bad. He needs to show him that he's not. He needs to find all the possible words and ways to show S-4 that he's special, too. Maybe...maybe that can be his new purpose. One he's decided on for himself.

He knows that Sans would approve of that, at least. Maybe that can be the first of his other self's mistakes he can avoid.

And here and now, as he feels himself being filled up and made warm with love and hope, Sans-Serif thinks he can at least make a good start of that. He can start learning how to give all of that back to his brother.

"love you, too." It's the first time he'll have ever said it, among so many things he's never seen the point of saying before now. But he's never meant any words more than those, and Sans-Serif can be certain of that now. "we're together, we're safe, and...i love you, too."

[systematicsupport]

He's not very strong. Not as strong as Sans-Serif is, for falling down and then managing to bring himself back from the brink of death. That was incredible, and he's so glad his brother was so brave, and was able to find him and accept this strange new place and accept that maybe everything would be all right now, as long as they stuck together.

There was still a lot of work to do. The two of them would likely have to work with Sans to find a way to combat or even undo their conditioning, and they'd have to apologize to Frisk, but... they were getting there. And S-4 had hope they would get there very soon.

...Especially if his brother could say those words. S-4's eyesockets widen in surprise, and the light in the middle of them flickers with surprise. Of course, he always had a feeling Sans-Serif loved him and cared for him. He just didn't have the voice to say it, or the understanding of the concept down entirely. But for him to find the words and the meaning in such a short amount of time, S-4 feels so incredibly important.

"Brother... thank you..."

He feels like his going to start crying again, but he forces them away, just gently cupping Sans-Serif's chin and lifting it up so he can give his brother the biggest, most affectionate smile, and make sure he sees it.

[antitemporal]

He sees it, and when he does, Sans-Serif can't help but return it, smiling as broad and bright as he can. For a long moment, he just lets himself bask in the open and honest and real affection. After which he finds himself seized with the overwhelming urge simply to hug his brother again.

...but there is still a lot of work to do from here. Even Sans-Serif can see that. And he has had a very long day. Disregard for proper habits is not an excuse for poor performance, even if it's sometimes worked out that way in the past.

He doesn't understand how you're supposed to sleep on a bed, but he'll try.

"you can go back to the party, if you want." His voice is a muffled mumble, his head tilted against S-4's shoulder. "i'll be okay." He thinks he might even mean that. And whether or not he is, or even if he knows what "okay" means, Sans-Serif feels much more confident in adding: "i'll...i'll be here." Right where his brother can find him again.

[systematicsupport]

He's smiling. He's smiling so wide and bright and he looks so happy. It's so much more than what S-4 was expecting if his brother ever found his way to the castle. He didn't know if his brother would even speak. All of this is such a very good sign. It's not too late for either of them.

He's going to need sleep to function without causing anyone else extra trouble. Even S-4 knows that now, and he tends to at least have a nap when he isn't watching over Sans' room at night. But he doesn't exactly want to leave his brother alone just yet, this soon after finding him.

So he just rubs Sans-Serif's back, shakes his head.

"No, it's alright. I'll wait here until you fall asleep. I'll... I'll always be here, too."

He's not leaving his brother behind ever again.

[antitemporal]

"okay." Despite himself, Sans-Serif looks more than a little relieved. "and, um...th-thanks."

He's always slept more peacefully with S-4 nearby. Even when sleep meant that there were two panes of tempered glass between them.

With S-4 nearby, Sans-Serif can't believe that anything bad will ever happen to him. And with S-4 nearby...maybe he'll wake up here, instead of back in the lab. They do belong together, after all. Even the scientists could always agree on that.

Sans-Serif pads back over to the bed and sets to work bundling himself up in blankets again. Unconsciously, he settles himself mostly on the right side of the bed, the side his pod was always on. The light pressure on his bones from all sides is a little like the stasis fluid, at least. Enough that, coupled with the weariness going down to his marrow, he won't have any trouble succumbing to sleep.

Indeed, his eyesockets are soon falling closed. But Sans-Serif struggles to stay awake long enough to look up at his brother and smile one more time.

"love you, s-4." Now that he's figured out how to say it, he doesn't think he'll ever have said it enough.

[systematicsupport]

"Don't thank me. You don't have to."

He wants to stay here with his brother, wants to watch over him. It was hard for him to learn to sleep again, after so long sleeping right beside his sibling. It just didn't feel right, sitting in a room so empty and alone. He always felt like maybe, if he wasn't careful, he'd end up getting so lonely he would fall asleep and never wake up.

But together, nothing like that will happen. They'll be able to stay here in the castle, and they'll both be safe, and S-4 will find all sorts of ways to make his brother smile more.

He fusses with Sans-Serif's blankets for a moment, and then sits on the left side of the bed, watching him with a warm smile. The words make his soul warm up again, and he doubts it will ever stop, if Sans-Serif keeps this up.

"Love you too."

His voice is a soft whisper, not enough to rouse Sans-Serif, and soon his brother is fast asleep. He watches over him for a few minutes, just to be sure, before smoothing a hand over Sans-Serif's head and then heading for the door. He has a few things to do for Sans, but as soon as he's done, he'll keep his promise.

This time, he'll be here waiting when Sans-Serif wakes up.