Somewhere under a mountain there is a courtyard. It hadn't been used recently. Bits of foliage were all around the room, although a deep heap of them lay beneath the blackened tree in the center of the courtyard. There were a few stones lying on top of the trodden-down debris. They had probably fallen because of a recent and extremely loud shout of joy.

The courtyard, apart from these bits and pieces, also held a makeshift cot. The cot was pointed towards the house with its other end up against the tree. It was rather tall for a cot, which made sense when you looked at the legs. They were table legs. The cot was, in fact, a table covered in an old mattress. It was dressed in pale orange bed sheets. Also several pillows with purple blobs on it. The blobs were probably supposed to be some kind of animal, but the baked-in grape juice stains made it hard to tell.

Next to the cot was a chair worthy of the name Chairiel. It was large, soft, and well used. It was not currently in use. Instead, both of the current occupants of the courtyard were in the cot.

Papyrus held Sans in his lap, and it was clear that every effort had been made so that Sans was comfortable. Several extra pillows had been arrayed around his legs and ribcage. The blankets were wrapped around Sans like a cocoon. They covered every inch from metatarsals to temporal lobe, with only one hole left for the air supply. Perhaps it was needed. Perhaps it was not. Either way it was present. Why invite trouble?

The courtyard, despite its quiet appearance, was full of sound. It is not the usual habit for bedtime stories to be read at full volume, but for Papyrus, nothing else but complete enthusiasm would do when it came to caring for his new brother and bondmate. Thus, Fluffy Bunny received the loudest telling in the history of its existence. No one seemed to care.

Some time had passed since the big story. The bigger pieces of masonry had been taken away, and the extra pillows formerly used to cushion a new brother had been stacked in the chair. They were being sat on by a very short scientist who appreciated both the height and the relief sitting on the stack gave her thick tail. The only downside was that her yellow scales clashed horribly with the array of colors and patterns stacked beneath her. Good thing she was oblivious to fashion.

"Y-y-you know, I've been bonded with Papyrus f-f-for years? Friend-bonded, not family-bonded or lover-bonded or...wait."

Alphys stopped speaking as Sans tried to rely his message. That was the thing about bonds. They weren't language-friendly.

"You d-d-don't...oh! You don't know about bonds, d-d-do you? Do you want me to, um...you do? Oh...thanks. Okay."

Alphys sat back, her thoughts trying to organize themselves into something coherent. The skeleton on the tabletop cot didn't seem to mind the wait.

"So, uh, not all bonds are the same? The one that y-y-you and, um, Papyrus share is different than the one between you and m-m-me. The one we have is a friendship bond, which is considered the lightest of all bond types. It's often compared to a hydrogen bond in that respect, although they are only similar on a superficial level. Friendship bonds have ramifications when they break. My first published paper was about that, actually, but my professor dismissed the findings as irrelevant. The increases in rates for minor injuries and illnesses were not within a reasonable margin of error! Just because Gavin always messed up his stoichiometry doesn't mean every new student will!"

Her hostility snapped out of existence in the same moment her head snapped towards the cot. A gentle, mildly embarrassed smile spread across her face.

"Th-th-thanks, Sans. I, um, appreciate it. Anyway, that's what a f-f-friendship bond is. Most other bonds start out lik-k-ke that. Well, not family bonds. I mean, sometimes they do, but...yeah."

She looked around the room awkwardly.

"Friendship bonds are really common, actually. Like, I bonded with Papyrus when we were in stripes. He gave me this cute card. The bullets...bones? Bullet-bones formed all the words, and then they spun around and...yeah. It was sweet. I think I s-s-still have it, somewhere."

She swallowed reflexively.

"Family bonds also are, um, directional? You can use them to f-f-find someone. Also, like, health? You can share HP. Not much, but a f-f-few points. And you c-c-can tell if they're low. Like sick? Or just having a b-b-bad day. My dad always brought me a b-b-big glass of warm milk when I was feeling down. Even after the, um, accident. He'd put it on a cart and, um, wheel it in? Because of the l-l-leg. So it wouldn't...spill. Yeah."

Her head hung down at this last statement. She reached around and grabbed her tail, and for a few seconds she said nothing. Then she looked at the cot again, and once more her expression lightened.

"He's fine. I'm working with one of the human u-u-universities to make better prosthetics. Apparently they've had issues getting neural connectivity? And their old models have, like, no pain sensitivity. Which was nice, but also such a disconnect...sorry."

"Anyway, the last category is...well, romantic. So it's much harder to break? And there's other b-b-bene-"

Alphys' mouth remained open. She stared at the cot, where a very, very bright blue light was coming through the covers. It seemed the rechanneler was working. It was a device designed to send magic spikes in the CORE out into the coolant liquid that had been chilled by ice from Snowdin; they had repurposed it to deal with Sans' extreme magical output. All it did was encourage the magic to go a certain way. In this case it was channeling into a battery.

"I'll, um...not talk about th-th-that, then. You can...there's, um...if you...Undernet!"

After the last word had left her mouth at an extremely high pitch, she smashed both hands over her mouth and turned bright red. She stayed that way for some time. Eventually she was led away by a kind Asgore who was not unacquainted with her tendency to overheat.

"Okay, nerd, here's the thing."

Undyne dropped into the chair like she had a personal grudge against it.

"I've known you for, what, eight years now? Ten? That's like a third of my lifetime, punk, so it's significant. And I've seen hundreds of bonds. So you never asking about it? That didn't make sense to me. Especially since you said you were more than 200 years old. How could you not have asked someone, or read something? You're a fricking scientist, apparently, and a smart one, too. This could have fricking killed you! You were dying, starving your bloody SOUL for kindness and compassion, and why? Because you were too lazy? Because you were too- too..."

Her body sank into itself as the fury left her in one breath.

"Sorry. I just...you scared us, punk. Papyrus was beside himself, the Queen baked, like, 7000 pies, Frisk almost called Interpol...I was going to strangle you. How could you do that to them? They care about you! How could you...but you didn't know. You didn't…"

She closed her eye and turned her head aside.

"I looked up some stuff," She winced, her eye patch lit by the glow of gold and blue, "I know, I know, it was rude, and I'm sorry! I just...I needed to know why. If I'd...well, I'd still have looked. Sorry, but I'm a stubborn idiot. Guess we both are."

Her voice dropped lower than the lowest limbo bar.

"He was messed up. Like, seriously fu-"

She stopped. The floating skull that hung in the air before her blinked. Then it dissolved, and she rushed over to the skeleton on the bed.

"Whoa, hey hey hey. Dude, chill, it's not your fau- Hey! Listen to me, okay? Sans. SANS. SANS!"

Nothing got through to the rattling body on the cot. Undyne's skin creaked with the force of her grip as she clenched her fists. Then the sound was echoed by the wood of the table as she gripped the table cot and lifted it above her head. Two pillows fell into the dirt. The purple blobs disapproved.

Undyne then ran, table and all, into the house while screaming for Papyrus at the top of her voice.

An indefinable amount of time passed. Or perhaps it was definable. Three hours, forty-seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds is a definite amount of time. But time is relative, and to certain people, irrelevant. Flowey had fallen into both categories. He liked it better when he got to be the one defining things (for a given value of liked).

Sans and the cot had returned to the courtyard. They didn't look any worse for the wear, although perhaps the pillows had another stain or two on them. No one was in the chair at the moment, nor anywhere around it. The opportunity was perfect.

Flowey dug himself up into the flowerbed by the tree; several leaves were displaced for the hundredth (or was it the third?) time. He pushed himself and his burden up level with the cot's occupant. Then he tucked a small item into the space between Sans' mandible and clavicle. The amount of time any trace of him could be seen after that was measurable in nanoseconds.

If one looked closely at the item against Sans one might, might notice that it was a bear. It would be hard, because it looked a lot more like a tea cosy. But it was a bear, and moreover, it was a familiar bear. It had last been seen by the skeleton in the far corner of the space under the Ambassador's bed. Even in the dark it could be still be seen, because that shade of violent pink had a tendency to smack people over the head with brightness.

Sans would no doubt feel appreciated when he learned what he'd been given. Frisk's gift of a hatedly pink piece of the Surface to the flower they were determined to rescue had been jealously guarded, and knowing it had been given to him...well, it showed promise.

A scientist always retains a little bit of curiosity, even in their worst moments (the good ones, anyway). So it was perhaps not surprising that Sans, blind and motionless for the moment, would wonder how much of the room he was in had been filled by the smoke from Doggo's dog treat. There was certainly airflow in and out, so it wouldn't completely fill. However, the sensation of greasy smoke clinging to his still-too-rough bone surface was quite strong. Sans would bet good money on the room being at least 1/3 filled.

"Then 'Essa said she'd only given birth to four of them! Still cute, though. Not quite so talkative, but eager as anything."

Doggo sucked in another long drag. He'd long since given up on sitting in the chair. He'd settled for sprawling his tail had swept a good square meter of the courtyard free of dirt. A pile of doggends at least ten strong were crumpled next to his head on the floor. One of them still smouldered.

"It's weird, y'know. Having pups around the place. Meeting new people."

Given just how long Doggo was taking to breath, Sans guessed he was zoned out of his mind.

"Getting out of here changed so much. There's just… so much! I kinda miss the old days. You know, right? Not, like, the really old days, but...like, when you came to Snowdin? And you tripped over that present. Man, was 'Essa mad at you. But then you found a brand new strand and...in the middle of the night? Or maybe it was the morning, I don't know. It looked so pretty with the colored lights. Much better than the white ones. That was nice."

Doggo sighed, "You guys have always been so nice to me. You never yelled or got mad. Not once! Well, Papyrus yells, but that's, like, just him. And you did put a dog whistle in the trees that one time. That hurt. But you took it down...so nice."

He huffed in a big drag and said, "We should, you know, really do that thing. You know… Oh, you don't? That thing! With the fuddy-duddies. Heh. Fuddy-duddies."

Doggo looked up at Sans. A slow grin spread across his face. He said, "Heh. Yeah, is a weird word. And their weird people. Can't wait until we get to, uh... What were we gonna do again?"

Doggo tilted his head, listening to a voice without words. Then he said, "Oh, right. Right! Fun prank, fun prank! Prank!"

His laughter echoed around the courtyard and into the corridors beyond.

Toriel sniffed as she settled into the chair for her watch. She said, "Doggo promised me he would not smoke near you. Newly bonded are in a uniquely vulnerable position with regards to environmental stimuli. He should not have lied to me."

She sighed, looking over to the table with mild sadness. She said, "it is so hard to be a teacher and a mother. At some point everyone becomes, to some extent, your child. Do not take it the wrong way; I love to teach. Sometimes, though, it feels as if any time someone is hurt or makes a mistake that it is my fault."

Her head came up slowly. She looked fondly at Sans, "Thank you for the reassurance, my friend," Then her face darkened and she said, "I so dearly wish to destroy whoever raised you like this. You are a kind and charming young monster, but you are very lucky that you are not dead. Your guardian was either playing a very risky game or being deliberately neglectful."

She jerked as if struck by a slap. Then she sighed, averting her eyes from the figure on the bed. She said, "I know I am biased. Someone taught you to be a wonderful monster. Asgore has always been the better dispenser of justice. I have a tendency to blow up."

She felt the shiver that followed in her magic, rather than saw it. It was an odd sensation, to be sure.

She spoke quietly, "No matter what happens, you will never have to face it alone."

A grease-stained bag plopped down next to the monster on the table. It was quite large, and, from the sound, contained at least three large objects within.

The flame leaned against the table's edge, his back to Sans. In his hands was an extremely charred burger. He took a bite.

His head swiveled to the monster behind him. He stayed like that, watching Sans, eating his burger. The silence was quite welcoming. Then he took his last bite of the burger, scrunched up the wrapper, and left.

An awkward cough split the silence around the repurposed table. It came from the throat of Asgore. He was sitting with his hands clasped on his knees. He looked like a kid waiting to be called in by the principle.

"Would you like to come over for tea some time?" The question burst from Asgore's mouth.

Asgore watched Sans warily as he received an impression of reluctance followed by magical imitations of Gaster and Papyrus. Asgore's face fell.

"Of course your family can join you. They are more than welcome," Asgore's face lifted, "It is quite sweet of you to think of them."

Once more an awkward silence filled the courtyard. It was so quiet that the sounds of cooking could be heard from inside. Slowly even those died away and Asgore blurted out, "Would you like to help me plan Mother's Day? I do not want to disappoint Toriel, and she so loved your present last Giftmas."

The feeling of agreement filled through their bond.

"Okay. Good," Asgore looked towards the house, his mood shifting downwards, "We to need to investigate your parents further, I'm afraid. There are some things that happened to you, things your father did, that strike me too much like a pattern that was learned. Will you help us make sure that no other children have been treated as you were?"

Extremely reluctant agreement and a faint gold glow were his answer.

"Bork."

The inquisitive bark bounced off the courtyard walls. A medium-sized white dog trotted in through the house's door. He turned his head this way and that. When he spotted the table he fixed on it, one paw bending and hanging underneath him as he smelled the magic in the air.

It wasn't the sad-sad that Lesser Dog associated with Sans. It was more complicated than that; an interesting mixture of loneliness, love, resignation, confusion, stress, upset, and sad. Some of those were good things. Some were not. But the not-good things were things that Lesser Dog could help to change. He walked slowly forward. He jumped up into the chair, turned around, and jumped up onto the bed.

Once he stood next to Sans he surveyed the bed. There were too many pillows up by the head of it. The base was too far away. So Lesser Dog curled up and leaned into Sans' heal-still body. Then he laid his head on Sans' legs and settled down. It worked on Dogessa's puppies. Why shouldn't it work on Sans?

In the place inside Lesser Dog where he kept his bonds neatly sorted, the feeling that was Sans shifted into gentle amusement. That was good. Happy was always good.

...and then, when I added the carbon disulfide vapors, the whole thing exploded! I'd been hoping that the laughing gas wouldn't be so reactive, so I suppose the solvent will have to be kept separate from now on.

Gaster paused in his ramblings to look over at Sans. Then he smiled and said, I suppose I could repeat the experiment, just to replicate the results. Would you like to see that when you're up and about again?

Excitement. Curiosity. Love.

Gaster's smile widened. Then he frowned and said, We'll need to fill out some paperwork, won't we? To make it official. The King and Queen know, of course, but surely there must be- oh? Sorry, I- I'm talking about the adoption. Would it still be called an adoption? We are adding you to our family, but you are far from being a child.

Hesitation. Uncertainty. Love.

Gaster blasted back the love with his magic tenfold. I love you too, Sans. As a father, I mean. A good father. What do good fathers do with their adult children? I know what I did with Papyrus, but now you're grown. Both of you are grown! Do we still play catch? I've never been good at catch. I'm clumsy. And Papyrus says you like to nap a lot. Maybe we could nap together?

Agreement. Love. Joy.

Gaster laughed and said, I suppose we could do that. Maybe we could build a pillow fort. Papyrus used to make them when he was a kid. We'd need a lot of pillows to make a fort big enough. If we allowed for, say, four pillows per wall...