The hand that holds the chain(swapfell)part 2

chapter 8

It was ridiculous to contemplate the idea of 'professional help' when someone had the type of life Sans had, and he was both happy with the fact that Papyrus gave Undyne confidence in that last meltdown of his own accord, and angry about it since Undyne relayed it to Alphys, who brought it up later that week.

But he wasn't so delusional as to think that he was 'just fine'. For fuck's sake, his little brother was suffering under his fists every time he lost his temper. He didn't CARE if Papyrus claimed to enjoy it; snapping out of his temper and seeing his brother broken just brought back memories of THAT day...

….and HE was the one who made Papyrus that way.

The only difference to THAT day and the most current one was that Papyrus was the one doing all the comforting.

And Sans couldn't stand it. Papyrus shouldn't be comforting him after that! It was pain infliction, which Papyrus claimed to crave, but it wasn't CONSENTUAL infliction. Papyrus had just BEEN there, and he had BRUTALIZED him!

After that last incident, Sans felt himself twitching whenever he went to touch Papyrus, fearing that he would hurt him again. He didn't believe his own mind that told him that Papyrus loved his touch, loved the pain, WANTED his Lord's hands on him—

You'll break him again.

He doesn't know better.

You're taking advantage.

A constant tug-of-war between the two, and Sans didn't know which was the truth and which was just in his head. But it was enough for Sans to double and triple-think his every action with Papyrus.

So in retrospect, 'professional help' was looking like a must at this point.

But 'professional help' wasn't something that was readily available outside of physician needs, and Sans had no need for THAT. All he had was his brother and Alphys to talk to, and she was hardly any help save for someone to listen to him.

All he could do was get through his day hoping that his actions and decisions were in the right.

Better said than done.

Sans's nerves were shot as it was, and he almost rejected Alphys's invitation to the High Guard meeting, something only the highest-ranked of the Guard and its associates attended, but her persistence wore him down.

“You're in a new faction of the Guard that's getting a lot of attention and respect in the higher-ups,” Alphys told him after training. “It's even bringing up your standing with the King and Queen...considering your evaluation in a few days. Coming to this meeting is a good thing.”

Sans sighed, running his hand over his skull. “.....fine,” he said. “We'll be there.”

And so they were.

Sans spent the evening polishing his armor and scrubbing his bones clean after instructing Papyrus to be impeccable in image and manners. His brother gave him a smile that seemed both comforting and humored.

“I used to run these things, m'Lord,” he replied. “I know how they function.”

That didn't help Sans's nerves in the least. He spent most of the night wake and brooding to himself about how idiotic it was to remind Papyrus of something that he of COURSE knew about.

He managed a few hours of sleep before the meeting in the morning, heading out in his armor with Papyrus in tow. Papyrus had smartly selected his nicest pair of pants and a cashmere sweater, paired with ankle boots and, of course, his jacket. It looked nice, almost business-casual, save for the collar that was still latched around his neckbones. Sans forewent the leash for this one, not wanting to give Toriel any reason to even CONTEMPLATE taking Papyrus from him, remaining silent for the trip to the Capitol.