spaghettimonster | Canyon: Inbox

Oh, so it just looks like doing stuff! I see. [It's a very jokingly accusatory tone, which he undermines immediately.] I'm just ribbing you. And, I'll let you know if I get uncomfortable. [Physically, he mostly means. But emotionally would be relevant too, if the odd relaxing feeling fades. Or he notices his own casual skeleton pun.]

[Sans's grin widens a bit when he hears the pun--though, considering Papyrus said it so casually, not in a way that implied he was doing it for Sans's benefit, maybe that's a little weird?--and returns to his not-doing-stuff, straightening out the wires methodically but gently.] This is way easier than doing stuff. [He doesn't have to think too hard about it the same way he doesn't have to work too hard at it. It doesn't entirely stop his mind from ticking away, but it quiets it down a little. Actually, it's working better than usual in that respect right now.]

I guess you have done a lot of stuff today. [Another jokingly begrudging capitulation to letting Sans resume being lazy, for some meaning of lazy. He settles back and tilts his head to consider his brother's wings.] Hmm... Come to think of it, you do neaten them a lot... Do they feel weird? [In general, but he jumps to add:] When they're all ruffled. Or dirty.

I can tell when the feathers are in the wrong places. [Which you'd think wouldn't bother him, considering his general attitudes toward messiness, but it does.] And water soaks in when I don't fix 'em. Then I drip all over the house after I take a shower and you get mad.

[Technically it's an oil redistribution thing that waterproofs the wings, amongst other things, but Sans has absolutely not done any research into bird wings and how they work.]

Because I can't fly over your puddles! [More sincerely indignant, but less so than usual, between the relaxation and a general sense of amusement from somewhere.] And water and human electronics don't mix! [Which is as baffling as it is deeply inconvenient. He has to unplug his phone when he's getting clean, unless he wants to damage it. Thankfully his own body's energy seems to convert to magical electricity...? Some of what he's learned about human electronics going into water is enough to give him nightmares.] I should just build something to help you dry off faster.

You could make a car wash, but for me. [A Sans wash. Put him on a conveyor belt. Sans has finished with Papyrus's shoulder, which means one arm is done, but...] Here, lemme get your other arm, too.

[And before Papyrus can do something reasonable like move, Sans just crawls across Papyrus to get to it. At least he shifts his wings out of the way so as not to whack Papyrus in the head with them. He is just kind of on Papyrus's lap now leaning across him.]

[Papyrus had indeed been thinking of standing to better switch sides, or maybe briefly turning to kneel backwards on the couch. Suddenly, wings are just barely not in his face. There's a lot of questions he could ask as his brother disregards personal space in the middle of the day - including, is Sans drunk? But thanks partly to self consciousness about how metal is even harder than bone, the one that comes out is:] Is-Is that even comfortable??

[...It sound silly as soon as he says it, but it's important to make sure Sans isn't hurting himself or wearing himself out. Enough that instead of pushing his brother off or interrogating him about the weird behavior first thing, Papyrus reaches for a throw pillow to offer.]

Huh? [It takes Sans a moment to realize what Papyrus is referring to. He pauses in his work on Papyrus's other elbow as his mind recognizes something is strange but without immediate reasoning as to why.]

Metal's not that much harder than bone. [Which isn't exactly true; Sans wears shorts and the metal is kind of digging into his legs a bit. But Papyrus seems self-conscious about it. Not that it's showing on his face, so Sans isn't sure where he's getting it from. He's not using his powers, is he? No, that's not it.]

Yes it is?? [Not by much, not compared to fur or flesh or whatnot. But bone's porous, and he's got plenty of experience these days how metal can scrape up bone - and not the other way around. But that's a memory he doesn't want to dwell on, so he grasps for:] Haven't you heard how much louder metal rattles?

[...It's almost a surprise he's not rattling right now, things are off. The maze was a good surprise, and the lingering sense of relaxation from wire neatening is more welcome than he expected. But his confusion with it all is building, especially with the unannounced speed of Sans's sprawling out...]

I guess, but... [Sans trails off, distracted from reassurance with just how confused he is. He is confused enough for multiple people, he thinks. And he's still on Papyrus's lap. Something in his mind finally connects, at least a little bit.]

Wait. Am I acting weird? [Only a little bit, obviously, if Sans has to ask. He backs off onto the couch again, at least, as he tries to take stock of himself.]

I mean, uh... [There's a surprising disappointment when Sans pulls away, so his confusion isn't fading - it's enough to disorient, making it hard to arrange his thoughts. Sans is asking, because Papyrus didn't say clearly enough. He's supposed to point out when Sans is being weird. They both are, it's an agreement. But he did already, didn't he?] Making the maze was weird, in a good way! This is, more weird. Helpful, and weird. And... I don't mind. But that's weird too... [He trails off, trying to think this out, unconsciously leaning a little towards his brother.]

[Making the maze was weird, but that was for Papyrus, so it's not that weird, right? Well, it's more work than he usually does. Crawling across Papyrus was weird, at least when it wasn't in the name of annoying him.] I probably should've just let you move to the other side of the couch. [That would have been more reasonable, probably. He reaches to touch Papyrus's arm again and feels a little less disoriented.]

That would be more normal for you. Letting me move around, instead of moving yourself... [Which, come to think of it, is of a piece with the maze. Sans doing things that take effort without thinking twice about it. He pats Sans's hand without thinking about it himself, and stands in such a way that they don't have to separate while he switches sides of the couch.]

You said it's like cleaning your wings... And, you're always weird about your wings. [Papyrus says this part like it's a reassurance, that that part's not a new weird thing. And there's a little emphasis on your, because somehow it was uncomfortable to even say 'the' about them anymore. Those are Sans's wings, they're part of him. Papyrus gets that now, somehow, and he didn't notice when that changed.]

[Sans starts working on Papyrus's other elbow as soon as he sits down again. This is an easier angle to work from, regardless of any weirdness that may or may not be happening.] That's just my regular brother weirdness. [It's a different category; they're his wings and he'll be as weird as he wants about them. He's already falling into complacency again, but he can at least try to follow the plot even if he's less alarmed about it.] Well, it's a holiday. Holidays get weird here sometimes. [Not always--October had been more of a month-long thing than anything directly associated with Halloween--but enough to notice a bit of a pattern.]

Hmmm... [To the claim of 'regular brother weirdness', Papyrus offers only a polite but clearly skeptical sound. Sans being so diligent about cleaning them, low effort and discomfort or not, is still weird for his brother! Laundry and making the bed are low effort too, and look how he does with that. Irregular brother weirdness is the best he'll offer.

But past that, as Sans starts theorizing, Papyrus mentally pulls up a digital calendar. Highlights the spans of time when they noticed oddness, and changes - even if only in retrospect. Sure enough, Sans was right. As he usually is, when he takes things seriously enough! His brother's reliable like that. Papyrus texts Sans a link to the digital calendar as he nods.] Holidays, or pre-holidays. And today's supposed to be a holiday about love...? [Romantic, friendly, and familial, they've already established. Halloween had ghosts, Thanksgiving bafflingly gave what he was thankful for away...]

And chocolate. [But yes, love is actually the point. Also, speaking of Sans and taking things seriously, he's gotten entirely distracted from worrying about if he's acting weird or not again. Papyrus's elbow is done, so now the shoulder and Papyrus will be all evened out.] And mazes. [No, not mazes.]

Are you fishing for more compliments about the maze?? [Incredulous but amused, Papyrus texts him again with an image of a valentine heart with a maze in it.] I've only seen one maze, in all the ads. You're wildly overestimating the maze quotient here. [It's hard to focus on worrying about any of this, but easy to razz his brother for trying to mess around. That's reassuring, too. Or maybe the reassurance is just the feeling of relaxation leaking around... Hard to pin anything down.]

Which means 100% of our experience with Valentine's Day has involved mazes, right? [A sample size of one is not even a little scientific. By all accounts, Sans has mostly forgotten they were having a serious-ish conversation in favor of returning to telling jokes. Papyrus is right here, so it's fine.]

How did you ever call yourself a scientist?? [But he's still mostly joking, the concern fading in the face of a feeling of it all being fine. Besides, hadn't they already given up on not sharing food, since it was clear they couldn't prevent this stuff? No sense fighting what's out of their power - the better to save that energy for the stuff they can influence.

If it's a strange train of thought from him, a compromise between two conflicting sets of values, well... Sans is right here, they'll figure something out. Even if that something is figuring out how to fix the aftermath a few weeks from now.]

Hey, I never finished my doctorate. [Don't accuse him of aspirations, how dare you. It's a joke, but it's accompanied with a wave of sharper, crueler emotions directed inward. It's nothing Sans isn't used to, wouldn't even be worth noting, except if for some reason those emotions were being inadvertently shared. Oblivious, Sans is content to finish up Papyrus's shoulder until the feelings go away. He's generally in a good mood right now; it won't take long.]

I... [Papyrus goes quiet as Sans works, somehow feeling terrible after that response. It's not quite like his usual, if fleeting, feelings of guilt. But what else could such a painful, self-directed feeling with that timing be?

He wants to apologize for bringing it up, but saying so - saying sorry - would surely just invite Sans to put himself down in a joking tone some more. And this after all the work his brother did today. Papyrus really should lay off prodding him about productivity, or past lapses in it. It's only polite, as an expression of gratitude. Just a casual segue to something else...] You're right, never mind me! I-I suppose we can count your expertly crafted maze, as a thesis, soundly defended. You're welcome from me, life advisor Papyrus. Maybe I should make that my next job... [Nailed it.]

[Sans looks away from his task--well, he does keep an eye on it with his halo--and at Papyrus properly. He definitely wasn't expecting a response like that.] You'd be good at that. [Which is something Sans really does believe. It's not exactly addressing the situation, but it's good filler as he thinks. He can't just ask Papyrus if he's okay, that would be weird, which--wait.] Okay, I think things are definitely weird right now. [Right. They were talking about that. And then they just kind of stopped, which... Actually is also weird.]

...You think so too? Because. I'm feeling... weird. All of a sudden. [By which he means, bad. Bad about himself, which he doesn't usually feel. Not for long, not when he pushes the feeling aside for focusing on what he can do, and deflects attention about it by putting forth the face he wants others to see. Still confused and disoriented too, and now freshly so, with Sans suddenly contradicting himself.]

[Sans spares a hand to pat Papyrus's arm, which is not really the sort of reassurance Sans usually goes for.] Yeah. I don't know what's up yet. But it's something. [Maybe if he wasn't being weird he'd be able to immediately point out what was up. That's always part of the problem when these things happen.]

It's... very definitely both of us. [There's a little questioning lilt on the end of his statement, less in the sense of uncertainty as much as wondering whether Sans agrees. Candy (welcome) and mazes (very welcome) are still atypical from his brother, as is all the cuddling. Papyrus doesn't think he's behaving as unusually... But he's feeling strange. Maybe it's something contagious after all, something that Sans got hours ago and he's only just starting to change. His eyes drift to his brother's feet, as if looking for black spots.]

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let me edit that last line: he's generally in a good mood right now, it won't last long

you're right

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