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It happens again, because it was always going to.
Sans has the nightmare. He finds Papyrus in the snow, armor empty, red scarf threatening to float away before Sans snatches it up and stuffs it in his pocket. He shuffles for a while in the snow, trying to save the pieces of Papyrus he can, before the futility of it all overwhelms him (again, again, he let it happen again) and he ends up on his knees with his hands in the snow, shuffling it around, mixing sooty dust into the white snow until it’s all a muddied gray. The fresh snowfall is already covering what remains of his brother.
He feels numb. Sort of the way he felt watching it all unfold, like his legs wouldn’t move if he tried. He knows there’s something big and horrible building up in his chest, something that feels like LOVE, maybe, and the only thing he can think is that he wishes it had been somewhere else, somewhere he could have salvaged his brother’s dust. He feels like a let down (a familiar feeling he can cling to).
At least Papyrus always loved this place.
And then Sans is awake, and his chest aches, and he realizes belatedly that he’s been screaming. The breath he doesn’t need is coming in short and shallow gasps, making his sore ribcage flutter and constrict. He’s roughly rubbing at his dry sockets when he hears the familiar click of a key in his door, and then there’s-
Papyrus, peering into the dark of his bedroom, one hand still on the key in the door knob of the room Sans has only ever given to him (no one else, no legendary fartmaster, no brother killer).
“SANS?” His voice is small and quiet and completely unlike him.
“hey, bro.”
Papyrus takes the invitation to come in, shutting the door gently behind him. He looks Sans up and down and the smaller skeleton can’t imagine what he must look like if Papyrus looks like this, shoulders tight with worry, bare-boned hands fiddling and popping themselves into a frenzy.
He doesn’t ask if Sans is okay. Just: “I HEARD YOU YELLING.”
“sorry. bad dream.” Sans looks away, like if he can’t see Papyrus then Papyrus can’t see him.
“RIGHT.” No jokes, no smiles, just the facts. They’ve done this song and dance before, and Sans knows what’s coming next in the same sort of way he knows a lot of things he shouldn’t.
“DO YOU WANT ME TO STAY?”
“yeah.” The word is out of his mouth before he has a moment to think about it.
Papyrus tries for a smile then, appreciating and placating. Sans scoots over on the mattress and Papyrus welcomes himself in, tucking them both under his heavy duvet. In the dark, Sans can just make out his brother’s empty but expressive eye sockets, looking over his skull as if to read what’s happening inside it. He’s so close, but he’s keeping his hands to himself, and the sudden warmth of his brother’s skeleton and searching gaze is suddenly too much and altogether not enough.
He’s here, Papyrus is here, all lanky bone and not itching dust. The bed is warm, not like the cold of Snowdin’s blizzard.
Sans scrambles atop him, clutching his brother’s skull with two hands and pressing their teeth together hard.
Papyrus startles, his mouth opening to say something, but Sans’ insistent tongue presses it back in. His brother melts into him quickly, hands coming up beneath the covers to grab at Sans’ hips as he eagerly kisses him back.
It doesn’t escape Sans that this is selfish. He’s been avoiding Papyrus ever since the last time they were alone in this room, in this bed, Sans coming apart beneath his brother as he fucked the life back into him.
Because this still isn’t right, isn’t even somewhat okay, not as hard as they pretend to forget.
And Papyrus is in love with him. Sans sees the looks that last too long. Feels his gaze like a hot hand running up his spine. Catches him glancing away and gets that all too twisting, anxious heat where his stomach would be.
Papyrus is in love with him and Sans- well- it’s not that Sans is not, but he doesn’t- it wasn’t supposed to get like this and Sans just doesn’t know how to fix it.
This certainly isn’t fixing it.
“SANS-“ Papyrus gasps between them, growing hot as Sans grounds against him. “TELL ME- WH- WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
Sans doesn’t know. Can’t think long enough to figure it out. He just needs Papyrus, needs his brother, needs this needs this-
“OKAY, OKAY.” Papyrus replies, holding Sans’ skull far enough back to break the kiss, to make Sans look at him. “I’M HERE.”
Sans’ chest is still heaving, but he drops his forehead to his brother’s shoulder. He can’t face Papyrus’ all too earnest gaze, but he handle listening to him breathe hard as he focuses, concentrates, his pelvis buzzing with magic as he forms it into something just for Sans.
“I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT YOU WAN- AHHN-“
Sans’ hands, still clammy with nightmare sweat, fumble now as they shove his brother’s pajama pants down about his knees and reach in to grope at the cock and cunt he’s made. Leaning back onto his ankles, the duvet slips from atop them, and Sans watches as he curls one fist about his brother’s dick and pumps, the other slipping easily beneath to press two fingers into his pussy. Papyrus keens beneath him, gripping the sheets tight, throwing his skull back and forth just enough to slow Sans down.
“t-too much?” He asks, voice wrecked with want.
“NO, GOD, DON’T STOP DON’T STOP- SANS!”
Sans groans, leaning forward to let Papyrus tangle his thin fingers between his ribs and twist. His own hands go back to work, covered in the wet heat already slipping easily from his dick as his pussy gushes.
He’s so ready already, he wants it, wants him.
Sans leaves stains on his shorts as he jams them to his own knees, unwilling or unable to leave his brother’s clawing embrace long enough to remove both their bottoms. His own thick cock is already dripping with pre as his pulls Papyrus’s hips up and onto his thighs, before fucking into him.
Papyrus wails at the sudden but welcomed stretch, his briefly unattended cock pressing up against Sans’ ectoflesh that’s fully formed across his torso, leaving a thick stomach and heavy hips ripe to grip under his bony hands. Sans rocks forward, deeper, filling his brother with quick, desperate strokes. He can’t catch his breath but he doesn’t need it, just needs this, his cock buried inside his brother’s pussy, words he can’t place fumbling clumsily out of his mouth. Sans doesn’t know what he’s saying to make Papyrus scream like this until it’s just one word, his favorite name.
“papyrus, papyrus, papyrus, papyrus-“
Cum splatters against his stomach and chest as his brother’s cunt clenches tight around him, Papyrus is shouting, trembling, and he’s not just here but he’s his, Sans’, Sans’ brother.
Papyrus clutches him to his own fevered chest as he cums deep inside him, shaking himself to pieces at the sensation, of being so close, of feeling so good.
They lay there like that for a long time, until their breath begins to come easy, the ectoflesh fading, sticky twin pools of cum cooling on their aching, entwined legs.
Sans moves first, unable to meet his brother’s gaze, stretching his sore legs as he pulls away and turns over. He doesn’t want to stop touching Papyrus, but luckily, his brother rolls over with him, one arm thrown about his hollow middle.
“uh.” Sans starts, eloquently.
“UH.” Papyrus parrots, something that sounds like a smile in his voice as Sans burrows backwards into him, spine flush to ribcage.
“IT’S ALRIGHT.”
As many times as he’s heard it, especially since this whole thing began, the words still drag Sans down into a comfortable, quiet sort of place. One like the space he’s in now, and in no mood to leave. He feels Papyrus press a kiss to the back of his skull, a kind of promise, a kind of “later.” And when he lets his eyesockets drift shut, there is no blizzard behind them, only blackness.
“SLEEP WELL, SANS.”