UnderCorrupt

16 ~ "it's ALWAYS funny."

When Papyrus came after school the next day, Sans was relieved. He had spent the entire night and then the entire day afraid that Gaster may have decided not to allow Papyrus back, that it was too dangerous, that Sans was too dangerous.

But, Papyrus came.

Sans was strapped down to the table, as he often was on afternoons, with the usual variety of equipment attached to him. He had been meekly cooperating the entire day, afraid that one misstep would result in his never seeing Papyrus again. When Papyrus's usual friendly greeting to both Gaster and Sans accompanied the sound of the door, Sans' grin widened.

"papyru--" Sans stopped in the middle of his greeting and sucked in a sharp breath. He couldn't see, his skull was held in place, but that didn't matter. It bubbled up quickly, the intoxicating burn in his bones, the compelling megalomaniac pulse in his chest.

Gaster started to voice some protest, but Sans barely heard.

Frisk had come with Papyrus.

And this time, h̹͖̤͖͎̕ͅe̖͉͝ ̳͕̺̤̪̩w̗̩̹̫̮̘͙͡o҉͓̥̬u̥̤̞l͔d̶͕̼̲̱͈̱̪n'͖̙̞̲̟̠t̯̳ l̼͉̣̝͚̿͗͂͂e̮͎̙̬̺̞̥̾͆̐͡t̯̳̓͆̈́ ̳̤̼̏͑̈͆t̢̤̩͕̯̒h̘̥͎̘e̠ͭ̚m̴̘̪͎̟͎̳̗͌ ȇ̷̙̺̬̘̞̗̬̌ͩͥͨ͘s̨̻̟̮̼̺̍̒ͦ̇͞ͅc͚̰̫̰̊̔ͨ̉͛͐ͭ̕͠a̡ͤ̂͐̐͐̓̈̈̚͏̼p͍͉̰͙̼͉͎͐̓͂͒̔͐̓̓e̙̾ͧ̑ͧ̌̕͟͡.

He would ṯ̶̩̿e̷͖̟̱͂ͮ̔ͧͮͩͯã̹̝̀̎r̥̮̃͑̒̔ ͕͉͍̗̖̎̎̔̈̕t̖̤͉͎͇͇̞ḧ̟̱̻̰͓̋̃͘ͅͅe͖̋̌̂̓ͫ̅̚̕m̴͈͔̩͔̀ͪ̓͊̊̔ ̓̅̊ͨ̍́҉̦ä̷̫͓͔̦̮́̾̋ͮ̉p̘̤̈́̐̒̽̏ͮ͟a͑ͤ͊̓҉̮̠̙r̼̼̣̯̲͔̃͂̃͠t̢͓̺̻͇ ͈̳̋̄h̹̤͙͖͍̮̯e̱͚̭̦͍̺͚̓ ̴̂̋̏̍͒ͨw̥͔̮͈̖̰ͬ̾͞o͕̤̺ͪŭ̩̲̩͚̜̯͛ͦͤ̌͞l͉͇̪̝͌̉ͨdͬ͊̅ͯ̐͜--

"Sans." Papyrus was there, one hand resting against Sans' rapidly rising and falling ribcage.

And it subsided. The compulsion to kill the human was still there, still itching in his chest, but it was... manageable. With Papyrus there, everything would be alright.

Papyrus smiled at someone Sans couldn't see, presumably Frisk or Gaster. "See?" He laughed a bit, his hand still on Sans' chest. "I told you it would work."

"Papyrus," Gaster said slowly, "what are you doing?"

Papyrus looked most likely to Gaster, who was still outside of Sans' range of vision. "Well, Frisk and I had an idea! Yesterday, when I hugged Sans, he calmed down. So I thought that maybe if I stayed touching Sans, he would be okay!"

Gaster stepped over to the operating table and loomed over Sans. "Are you okay?" There wasn't a whole lot of concern in his voice, it was more like he was asking Sans what the answer to a mathematical equation was, rather than his wellbeing.

Sans decided to ignore the almost total lack of sympathy. He closed his eyes a moment, and thought about it. Then he looked up at Gaster. "... umm... i... i think... i'm mostly okay... ish. i still wanna kill frisk, but only a bit more than i wanna kill you."

"Hm." Gaster seemed mildly impressed. After a moment, though, his expression changed to one half concerned, half reprimanding. "Papyrus," he began in a tone matching his visage, "while I am extremely proud that you have more or less followed the scientific method, you really shouldn't have taken a risk like this! What if it hadn't worked?"

Papyrus grinned. "Well, Sans can't really move much."

"he's right." Sans input, and was ignored.

"But what would have happened if he had gotten strong enough to break the restraints?"

Papyrus was silent for a moment. "Then Frisk would have left."