Nature of the Soul- 1

"Frisk, I seem to have misplaced the knife I was using. Have you seen it?"

Sans looked up when he heard Toriel's voice. Ever since he'd woken up to the sun streaming in through his window that morning, he'd felt that there was something wrong.

"Oh child, that is not something you should play with! Here, give it to me please."

His fists clenched involuntarily as he stood up. The pattering of feet mingled with the soft pad of furry paws. The kid's giggle cut over it like the sharp chirp of a bird; Toriel gasped.

"No no, do not run with that!"

They rounded the corner. Sans saw light glint off of a blade. Black sockets and a fixed grin flashed back at him from the metal, and just behind that something red glinted in the backs of the human's eyes. They lurched forward, mouth still open in a laugh.

"SANS!"

He surged forward to catch Frisk as they fell. The kid stopped about a foot off the ground, knife still held tightly in front of them. Toriel clutched at her chest. The look on her face was almost comical.

"Careful kid. We almost had us a Frisk-kabob."

"Sans, this is not really the time...!" Toriel said weakly. There was flour smeared on her apron, and she had her reading glasses on. Sans grinned a little wider as she leaned just slightly against the wall.

"Don't get your fur in a bunch Tori. You've gotta admit that was a good one." He set Frisk back on their feet and gently pried the knife out of their hands.

The red was gone. Must have been a trick of the light.

"Well... it was very good, yes." Toriel frowned a little and knelt next to Frisk. "But you must be more careful, my child. If you had been punctured I would have been very sad, and you would have been very hurt!"

"Hey, no harm no foul. Besides Frisk survived way worse than a few accidental stab wounds in the Underground." He toussled Frisk's hair. They looked down at their feet sheepishly, and Toriel took their hand. It was tiny in her paws.

"No more playing with knives. Can you promise this to me Frisk?"

Frisk nodded. The white furry muzzle creased in a smile, and Toriel's eyes crinkled a little at the corners. Heh. Funny how she could look better straight out of the kitchen than most people did in their Sunday best.

"You are very good. Now if you still wish to help me make dinner, you are going to need to wash your hands again. Run along and do so!"

Frisk's little head bobbed again and they skittered out of the room. Sans watched them disappear down the hall, knife still in his hand.

"Are you sure that you're okay with having snail pie for dinner again?"

Sans turned back to Toriel. She was still smiling, but her brow was wrinkled. He couldn't help but laugh.

"I thought you knew me better than that Tori. I'll eat almost anything so long as I don't have to make it."

Her brow smoothed out again. "Even Papyrus's cooking?"

"Well see, I don't know if anything he's made actually counts as food, so..."

It was Toriel's turn to laugh. "That is mean Sans."

"Hey, you brought it up." He handed her the knife. "Seriously though, if you need some help and there's absolutely nobody else around to do it, you can ask me."

"Oh?" Toriel accepted the knife. "And why should I believe you can cook?"

"Beats me." He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "I tried making something a while back."

"You did?" Toriel looked up as Frisk trotted back from the bathroom and grabbed her hand. Child in tow, she led the way back to the kitchen. "What did you make?"

"Well, you know." Sans shrugged nonchalantly as he followed her into the other room. It was bright and clean with a vase of flowers on the table. Toriel had already rolled out the dough for the crust and placed it in a pie tin. Next to it stood a bowl of large deshelled snails. Frisk crinkled their nose as Toriel pulled one out to chop it up. She gave Sans a puzzled look over her glasses.

"I do not know. That is why I asked you."

"You always talk about how much you like making pie, so I thought I'd try it out. I didn't finish though."

"Why not?" Before he could answer, Toriel grinned. "Were you not filling up to it?"

Sans leaned against the counter. "Yeah. Plus a pie's kind of a big deal. I wasn't sure I could en-crust myself with that."

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT WAS THE FIRST THING I HEARD WHEN I CAME IN HERE!"

Frisk squealed and pattered toward the doorway. Sans watched them collide with his brother's legs as he stomped across the threshold.

"Hey Papyrus. Frisk missed you."

"I can see that!" The skeleton knelt so he was on eye level with the grinning child. "Greetings human! I, the great Papyrus, have decided to brighten your evening with my presence!"

"Hello Papyrus," Toriel said cheerfully. She scraped another pile of chopped snails off the cutting board and into the pie tin. "It took you a while to get here; I wasn't sure if you would make it in time for dinner or not."

Papyrus looked up in confusion. "What are you talking about? I called you ten minutes ago."

Toriel grinned and pulled the bowl of snails toward herself. "For you, ten minutes is almost sluggish."

"It is n- OH MY GOSH."

Sans gave her a thumbs up. "Nice one."

"You two are HORRIBLE, and Frisk has had to put up with this all day?!" Papyrus picked the child up and set them on his shoulders. "Come human! Let's abandon this house of horrors and get some Nice Cream!"

"Don't ruin your dinner!" Toriel called, but they were already outside. Frisk's giggle was cut off by Papyrus slamming the door behind him. She shook her head.

"Well, this will have to bake for some time. Perhaps they will be hungry again once it is ready."

"If not that's just more for us." Sans's gaze was focused on the archway his brother had just vacated. Part of him wanted to go after his brother and... what? Warn him that Frisk almost gave themselves an involuntary body piercing earlier?

"It is okay to try sometimes, Sans."

He dragged himself out of his thoughts to give Toriel a quizzical look. "Try what now?"

Her ears twitched as she frowned. Almost all of the snails were chopped up. "I don't know. But it makes me sad when you start things and then give up on them."

"Eh, it's not a big deal. I was just messing around with the pie."

"Were you?"

Toriel had turned her full attention on him now. Sans shifted his weight. "I thought I'd play at baking once, and I did, and that's what happened. You know how I am; I don't take things seriously."

"You take some things seriously, I think."

For once, Sans's smile slipped a notch. "Huh?"

"Oh... I don't know. I am just being a silly old woman again." Toriel turned back to the cutting board. "Forgive me for prying."

Sans resumed his leaning on the counter, and it was as though nothing had happened. "Don't worry about it. So... where do you get these snails from, anyways?"