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"Here ya go."
"Thank you."
The consistent tremble of your hand complicates your ability to so much as open the can he's handed out to you. Regardless, you stay quiet and struggle with each attempt you make in opening it, though he offers to do that for you not long after your third try. You hand it over and take it back after it's open and after you've managed to calm yourself a little more through deep and silent breaths.
"We really shouldn't go today with the state you're in," Sans says, sitting next to you on the bench, although leaving enough space for a third person to sit right between you. Whether he's trying to keep distance due to your condition or the fact that you're still just acquaintances -- or both -- is unknown to you, but you're grateful for it. The space helps with your dizziness and the persistent feeling of having every little thing overwhelm you, from the heat of the sun to the loudness of the park and its crowds. "The tour's mostly walkin' for hours, so it's not the best idea if you're all dizzy and stuff." His irises fall on your drink as soon as you finish drinking it. "Need another one? There's also ice cream and donuts if you're up for it."
"I'm fine." You smile and stand up to go throw the can away. Walking still feels like balancing yourself on an ever-thinning thread, but you have a little more coordination now, sufficient for you not to appear drunk, nor for you to cling onto a complete stranger like you had just a few moments ago when getting down from the bus. It's pathetic to think you had to use the monster for support while going down a few steps, when Frisk managed to travel all over the Underground all on their own and without your guidance. Still, you set those thoughts aside with the reminder that you're still weak and that your health's taken a toll large enough to last for a few more weeks before your full recovery.
You sit back down with Sans and observe the dogs running around the park, some in groups with others of their kind, some playing fetch and tug-of-war with their owners, and some asking for belly rubs from strangers.
"About the envelope…" you say, trailing off mid-sentence.
"What about it?" Sans asks, looking at you again.
Reluctance causes a noticeable delay in what you want to say and an increase in the intensity of your symptoms, these dulled temporarily by the juice's high fructose and vitamin content. "What's… What's the money for, if it's not for fixing my phone?"
"For your health." His face nearly softens up as he says that, though it goes back to its usual, stoic self when he adds, "You must've taken a few days off just to deal with Frisk's situation, and you've hadda use your own sick days, too, so we all pitched in to help you with that."
"We?" You quirk a brow and frown as you think back on the envelope and all the notes you'd read. None of them hinted at the money being from any other person besides him, and it was the only item inside the envelope that didn't have an individual note attached to it. "Wasn't it all from you?"
The flicker of his irises already gives you the answer, surprise revealing itself with how his gaze widens. "Wasn't there a note stuck to it? It's supposed to be from Tori, Paps, and me."
Though knowing it's much more likely they all pitched in with one hundred each rather than it all being from him alone, you have no memory of any other notes, and even less one related to the money. Curiosity strikes, but you try not to jump to conclusions yet. "There wasn't any. Maybe... Maybe it got mixed up with the other notes?"
"The money was in a different envelope though. Did Paps give you just one letter only?"
"Yeah, but it had the notebook, permit, tickets, and all that."
"Then he must've done somethin' with it."
You both stay quiet as you contemplate the situation.
So, long story short, his brother had taken both envelopes and smushed them into one. It makes sense thinking back on how the letter looked like it was about to burst, but the reason for him to do that and the missing note are two whole other anomalies you've left to find any answers for. It's possible the note could've simply fallen off while Papyrus passed all the items into one letter, but why would he even do that in the first place?
Those questions make rounds about your mind, until you remember the conversation you had with him on the train. Sans seems to realize something, too, and you both act in coordination to your epiphanies by looking away from each other in a subtle manner and scooting back to your side of the bench until reaching the edge, leaving even more space between you. The likelihood of his brother attempting to set you up is apparent, but neither of you acknowledge it to each other. If that hadn't been an innocent and honest mistake, then Papyrus really was trying to push his brother into dating by making him appear a lot more well-off and giving than he seemed.
"Uh, I-
"Maybe-"
Whatever forced and awkward conversation you're both about to initiate is interrupted by a large Samoyed, big, fluffy, and full of energy. He throws himself on the bench space left between you and leaves his stomach out in display, likely waiting for attention like all the other dogs running after unsuspecting strangers without any pets of their own. His tail wags faster than lightning, and he barks until you give him what he requests, even more when the monster next to you gives him head scratches to go with your belly rubs. The dog's face is pure bliss throughout, and the tense atmosphere fades the longer you pet him.
When you both stop, the dogs stays in that position for a while, body left limp from all the pets. The tense atmosphere returns in an instant, and even more so when you both attempt to boop his snout. That only results in you brushing your hand with the monster's while the dog left underneath licks at both of them, once more helping end the awkwardness of the situation.
"Should we go back now?" you ask, finally capable of pushing through the tension. The ice breaks further as Sans nods, and you both stand up, leaving the dog at the bench, owner left unknown. It's strange to think you're so close yet so far away from the Underground. If it weren't for the state of your physical health, you would've only needed to walk a few more steps, past the dog park and through the gates.
A high-pitched woof from behind makes you turn around and expect a Chihuahua to come running at you full speed, though it turns out to be the same dog from before. He's back to his energetic state, complete with his tail wagging faster than before and his tongue now stuck out. He follows even as you walk backwards and stares with a tilted head and confused expression when you stop moving. Sans notices you've fallen behind by the time he's a few feet away and turns back around to assess the situation, first with confusion and then with a chuckle.
"Think this one's a stray?" Sans asks. He then approaches the dog and gets down on one knee to pat him on the head, gaining a few satisfied barks from him. His irises focus on the dog's neck when he adds, "There's no collar on him." He looks up at you next. "Maybe we could do somethin' about it next time we come back 'ere?"
"Sure," you reply, smiling. "Looks like he's already interested in us, anyway."
"That, or he just wants more pets." The skeleton stands up and signals for the dog to keep himself firm in place, complementing his actions by talking to him directly. "Stay." He takes a few steps back to test the dog, who responds by taking a few forward, following the monster now. "Stay," he repeats, to no avail. "(Y/N) needs to go back home and rest." Sans points with his irises towards you when he says your name, breaking formalities to communicate with the dog. "Alright?"
As if leaving the job of dog whisperer unnamed in the information he'd given you, Sans's words seem to have an immediate effect on the Samoyed, who gives one sharp bark once and nods. He then turns around and walks off, leaving you be. Even the monster looks caught off guard by the results, though he laughs it off while you smile. Your gaze and his own draw themselves to the dog continuing to make his way back to the park, until he reaches the bench you'd both sat on. "Didn't think that'd work."
He slips his hands in his pockets and resumes the walk with you towards the bus stop, mood thankfully much lighter between you even as you both reach your destination and wait with no other people around besides him nearby. His irises narrow as he looks up at you, focusing on your face. "You allergic to dogs?" he asks, grinning. "Your face's all puffy."
Checking yourself through your phone's camera is more than necessary to know what he means by that, and when you do, you bite down on your lip to keep yourself from bursting out a laugh. "...Y- Yeah," you mutter, words followed by a sheepish smile. "I forgot."
"You forgot you're allergic to dogs?"
"They're too cute for me to worry about that." Your defense is quick and unfaltering as you grin down at him. "And it's only a mild allergy anyway. It's cats I'm more allergic to, but even then I can't help myself when it comes to being around animals -- specially big and fluffy ones!"
"Can't argue with that," he says, chuckling. "You bring a compelling statement." He looks towards the bus when it arrives and continues with, "Wanna stop by a pharmacy before we go?"
"It's alright," you reply, shaking your head. "I think I have some medicine with me."
"In that satchel you're always carryin' around?"
"It's in case anything happens while I'm out with Frisk."
"Even when they're not around?"
"Yes. What if someone else needs it?"
He grins and walks with you to the bus. "You really are a first-time (mom/dad), huh?"
You settle down with him on the seats nearest to the door and place your bag over your lap to prevent occupying another seat. "...What makes you think that?"
"Tori and I go way back. Though we only saw each other in person just recently, we got to know each other long before that, and she told me all about how it was like, both with her biological son and her adoptive kid. She was just like you when she took care of the first fallen human. And even though she'd already had a son before that, she went back to first-time mom mode with the one she adopted, since she didn't really know how humans worked back then."
Though you're curious to know how they knew each other without seeing each other's faces, you imagine something similar to online friendships and pass it off as that for now. It'd be far too much to ask for any details on that, based on how wistful and melancholic his tone alone sounds. "So you're saying I'm worrying too much?" you ask, grounding your curiosity for the moment.
He nods. "But there's no problem with that so long as it ain't taken to extremes."
"Like overprotective and all that?"
"Yeah." He stands up when the bus fills itself to the brim, leaving a few people to stand and one person to sit down where he's just gotten up from. "I'd say you're fine, though."
"Oh, yeah?" you challenge, smile turning to a grin. "And what makes you say that?"
"You've been willing to listen to me so far, and you're still wanting to understand us despite everythin' you know about us already. That's not really somethin' someone overprotective would do."
"Move over," a man says, interrupting your conversation with the monster. He stands right in the middle of Sans and you, and he directs a glare at you only, fueled by exasperation. Compared to the man Sans had given up his seat for, who'd been limping all the way with a bad leg to the hand-bars, he seems fine; tired, but able to stand firm even as the bus keeps moving on. "Being sick in the head's not a valid reason for you to take up a seat all for yourself."
"Excuse me?" you ask, narrowing your gaze at him. "Care to elaborate on that, sir?"
"You're (L/N) aren't you?" he asks back, scoffing. "Gotta be real screwed up to talk with a guy like him when your kid went missing and ended up in that same place he lived in." His anger's unforgiving, and he hardly cares to register how much attention he's drawing to himself and you. "Why couldn't they tell you about it? Ever question yourself that? If monsters are so advanced enough to build a whole damn robot more human than any android I've seen up here, they could've given you a call or somethin' to tell you your kid's alive and well. Ever stopped to think about it? Or do you care that little over your kid's well-being? Stop for a moment and think about why they didn't try to help your kid outta the Underground." He stops only to catch his breath and increase the intensity of his tone and words. "So what if there was a magic spell keeping them trapped? And so what if they couldn't do nothin' about it? I'd be damn happy if they'd at least try to tell me my kid was okay!"
You keep quiet as you contemplate his words. Even Sans seems struck by them, and simply one quick glance exchanged between you lets you know he's waiting for you to give your judgment on the situation. He doesn't intervene, though he keeps himself close enough to help out, most likely in case the situation were to escalate any further.
"I'm trying to listen to their side of the story before I make any accusations."
"And what does that help you with?" His grimace worsens and he takes a few steps closer, almost cornering you between him and your seat. "Are you dense, or do you not notice how they're tryin' to soften you up by being nice? Bet you a guy like him wouldn't give a damn over a limping human if he knew they were the key to getting outta the Underground." He glares at the skeleton when he says that and turns back to you afterwards. "Don't you see how he looks at you? He's-"
The man's argument drowns out with the rest of the bus's noises, now filled with loud murmurs from the crowd and their unrelenting stares, all of them directed at you. You want to say something, but panic overwhelms all other feelings and any possible, rational thoughts. Your breaths turn ragged and scarce, and the world around you begins to spin. All other words you can decipher from your mind are thoughts on how you're failing as a person and as a parent, more specifically -- on how each and every step you take's one huge mistake and a piece of evidence to prove you're not good enough.
If your best isn't good enough, then what's there left to do?