Home Now (Fluffy Horrortale)

Chapter 1: A Spaghetti Feast

The ceiling was as it always was.

As a matter of fact, it was the only space in Sans' room that could be called clean; maybe that was why he 'enjoyed' staring at it as much as he did.

The singular red orb hanging in his socket narrowed, a small irritated puff of air escaping through his gritted teeth - it had been yet another sleepless night, yet another night of staring up at the same fucking ceiling.

Ultimately giving up on the pointless task, he sat up, the worn out mattress beneath him squeaking angrily in protest. His head rang and his vision swayed; 6 nights of ceiling staring. He was approaching his all time record, and that wasn't something positive.

Not a good thing. Bad.

"SANS!"

The ringing in his skull only seemed to increase at the boom of Papyrus' voice outside his door, but Sans wasn't about to complain – if anything, a bit of social interaction was a blessing after hours upon hours of silence, his thoughts serving as the only thing keeping him company.

Not a good thing. Bad.

"...hey paps."

The voice on the other side of the door went quiet for the longest of times, before said door swung open; Papyrus warily poked his head through the doorway, wringing his hands, sunken sockets worriedly examining Sans.

...not a good thing. Bad.

"....SANS? YOU...DIDN'T SLEEP AGAIN?"

Sans chuckled ever so slightly, hand beside him twitching as he restrained himself from picking at his itching socket – damage caused years of clawing at it was just starting to heal over, and Papyrus would be disappointed if he ruined that.

"...nah....heh....you...could say it's making....me..."

Papyrus froze, watching with an oddly hopeful expression as Sans paused – he knew this joke. He'd practised it, just for this moment; practised over and over in front of the mirror, he just had to remember the....

The punch line....what was...

"...deep-rest. Heh."

Papyrus let s out a gentle snort, sockets brightening with pride for the barest of moments – before his expression practically becomes thunderous, shoulders hunching as he stomped his foot . He strode across the room, muttering about how 'distasteful' a joke it was as he snatch es Sans up by the back of his hoodie, slinging the body of his brother over his shoulder. Sans didn't so much as flinch; after all, this was one of the things about the surface that he had come to enjoy. Though the contact between him and his brother could be....a little rough at times, it was something that had been lost in the madness of the Underground – towards the end, Papyrus had be afraid to touch him, and Sans hadn't blamed him in the least.

One ghost of the past that the surface had chased away. Of course, it couldn't fix what was broken beyond repair, Sans knew that, but...

...he was happy to see Papyrus happy.

Still, that didn't mean that the surface hadn't been an utter bitch at times; when they'd first emerged from the mountain, the monsters had been faced with pity and kindness (and fear, but many of the humans attempted to be 'commendable' and shove it down) – something which many of them welcomed, but....