Person of Interest

Chapter 12: Brothers, Amiright?

"Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law."

-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass: "To The States"

Your POV:

What was that?

What was that??

I shook my head as I walked, pressing my palm to my damp forehead. I was numb with disbelief. Where in the world had all of that come from? When did I get so bold? Whatever the case, it had happened, it was done, and I walked a little taller as I reveled in the pride of knowing that I had regained a little control, at least for now.

My excitement eventually faded into the dread of knowing that this was was likely only a brief reprieve; I would probably pay for my brashness later, most likely when there weren't other people around to stop him.

But that was the strangest thing about this latest encounter: if I hadn't known better, I'd have said that he was actually trying to hold himself back. I'd have said, as crazy as it sounds, that he seemed to be just as reluctant as I was, that he was making an active effort to be civil. It made me wonder if I should take a calmer approach to the situation the next time he came around, maybe try to show him that I wouldn't let him scare me. Maybe that was what he wanted, to find someone to talk to who wouldn't run away. Maybe he just needed to learn how. Maybe... he wanted me to teach him?

I could only hope it were that simple.

But then I found myself right back at that infernal question: why would he pick me? As far as he and his line of work were concerned, I was a liability, a witness; He would need a very, very reason to keep a timebomb like me ticking so close by... I didn't know for sure, but I was willing to bet it had something to do with this "heartburn."

I had figured it out a while ago. I wasn't stupid.

Despite my lack of firsthand experience, I was actually incredibly well-versed in soul lore for a human. Ever since I was little, I'd been fascinated with the concept of a Monster's ability to study the very essence of someone's being. I'd studied it my whole life. I was even planning on going to college for Medicinal Soul Science before...

In any case, I was absolutely certain that Something had to have happened to my soul when he'd taken it out that first night. Something that no human doctor could fix, something that may or may not be permanent... something only a Monster would be able to help me with.

Next time sans approched me- and there would be a next time- I wouldn't back down until I got an answer to that annoying question.

Sans' POV:

I was careful as always to replace my usual shit-eating grin by the time I hopped out of the void into our kitchen. Papyrus was leaning back against the counter beside the already boiling water on the stove, arms crossed and with a peeved look on his face.

"hey bro. what's cookin'?" I quipped with a wiggle of my brow bones.

As usual, my best material was wasted on my brother. He stayed silent, holding out his hand expectantly so I could drop a couple spaghetti boxes into his open palm. After confirming that I brought him his usual brand, he summoned a single red glowing claw to slice open the box and dump the pasta into the pot.

His prickly silence wasn't unusual, so I just shrugged it off and set about putting the remaining boxes away in the pantry. It was a walk in, by the way, as big as the average bedroom; Paps was in charge of the kitchen when we were having the house built, and he spared no expense with its design.

"YOU'RE LATE."

I jumped a little and hissed as I banged my head on the shelf I was leaning under. I poked my head out of the pantry, rubbing my sore skull.

"i can't be that late, i was just gone for..." I trailed off when my watch told me I'd been gone for over thirty minutes. Well then. "...ah, shit. sorry boss, guess i got a lil' sidetracked."

He had his back to me, focused on stirring his masterpiece. "BY WHAT?"

Uh-oh. Casual tone, snippy responses... nope. Get out, sansy. Get outta there now.

"oh, i just, uh... ran into a friend s'all," I said smoothly, hoping I wasn't sweating too bad. I might've been bad to the bone, but I was shit at lying, especially to my brothers.

Papyrus stopped stirring for a second and slowly put down the spoon. Yup... I was definitely sweating.

"...BROTHER."

"y-yeah boss?"

He turned around and resumed his original position, crossing his arms and fixing me with a calculating expression.

"YOU DON'T HAVE FRIENDS," he uttered bluntly, cutting me off with a wave of his hand when I tried to protest.

"MAYBE YOU DO AT GRILLBY'S. BUT WHATEVER FRIENDS YOU HAVE, SANS, I SOMEHOW CAN'T IMAGINE YOU STOPPING FOR ANY OF THEM IN A GROCERY STORE FOR  A CASUAL CHAT."

I looked away, mind racing to find some way to retort, but it turned out I didn't have to; after a couple beats of silence, he spoke again, his tone uncharacteristically quiet:

"...It's Alright. "

My head shot up to see paps turned away and stirring the spaghetti again. "what?" I asked dumbly.

"It's Fine. I Won't Pry," he said. "Just Be Sure That The Line Between Business And Pleasure Remains Clear."

He looked over his shoulder at me with a rare sort of softness in his eyes. "Be Careful, Sans."

"...heh. thanks bro," I said, smiling for real this time. Paps always was a softie at heart, even when he worked so hard to hide it.

"FOR WHAT?" He scoffed, turning to the spaghetti and back to his normal volume. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU LAZY BUFFOON; I CAN'T WORK WITH YOUR PRESENCE POLLUTING THE KITCHEN."

Oh well. It was nice while it lasted. I chuckled and headed for the door to leave him to it... and narrowly avoided crashing into Wings on my way out.

I growled in annoyance while he blinked down at me. "Ah! My apologies brother, I didn't see you there."

"BULL SHIT."
"bull shit."

Wings just shrugged and smiled, not bothered at all. Ugh. Prick.

"whatever ya say, dingus," I sighed as I stepped around him. "i'll see you two at dinner, yeah?"

I felt their gazes on me the whole way up the stairs.