The ‘True Reunionghetti’ was a plate-cleaning success.

It kept all of its original features: a carrot and tomato base, sprinkled with edible sequins. But it tasted a world’s difference.

The trio of Papyrus’ friends couldn’t believe that they’re eating his handiwork.

Papyrus himself couldn’t believe he’s eating something he cooked. Albeit with the help and guidance of his uncle. He always liked his food no matter how bad, but this blew his skull into the stars.

Meanwhile Gaster enjoyed the fruits of hard labour with merriness on his face.

“I’m so getting seconds,” said Undyne. A heavy breakfast tend to start the day sluggish, but she couldn’t resist!

Alphys tried to scrape every bit of the pasta sauce off her empty plate. “Oh my god, this is sooooo good! I-I don’t understand what happened. Is this really the same recipe?”

“WE REPLACED THE WATER WITH DELICIOUS BROTH,” Papyrus explained, as happy and enthusiastic as he can be. “IT ADDED A WHOLE NEW LEVEL OF FLAVOUR!”

“And the meat is so smooth! I know it’s chicken but, minced chicken is usually grainy.”

“WE MIXED WHITE AND DARK MEAT WITH SOME CORNFLOUR. THEN WE BROWNED THEM IN THE PAN BEFORE LETTING THEM SIMMER IN THE SAUCE MIX. APPARENTLY CHICKENS COME IN TWO SHADES. THEY LOOK THE SAME TO ME THOUGH.”

Gaster thus dispensed his words of wisdom. “Poultry -- such as chicken -- have two main categories of muscles. ‘White meat’ comes from the breast, while ‘dark meat’ is found in the wings, thighs and drumsticks.”

“Wow…” Alphys responded. “No wonder they have a different texture. But why?”

He answered: “A bird’s breast muscles primarily gain their energy through a carbohydrate called ‘glycogen’. It requires less oxygen for its metabolism, and thus useful for short bursts of activity. Therefore the end result was a lean, tender muscle that’s prone to overcooking.”

“Leg and wing muscles on the other hand, require more sustained energy. They contain more ‘myoglobin’ and fat for long-term endurance. Combined with physical activity, this creates a robust, fattier muscle.”

“So naturally, they compliment each other,” Gaster nodded. “Roman’s idea. I get finicky with pork and beef sometimes.”

Undyne scooped a big tablespoon of toasted sequins and plopped them on the noodles. “Save the science talk for later, man. First, we shall FEAST!” And feast she did.

This was one of the rare moments where the glam robot star agreed with the strongest fish. He couldn’t get enough of the topping either, adding another helping on his half-finished plate.

“I didn’t know it’s even possible for my MTT-brand edible sequins to be this crunchy!” Mettaton savoured another bite. “Oh, the cheese, garlic and parsley just add SO much more! This is giving me inspirations for a product line~~”

Gaster made no effort to hide his pride. Kind of a ‘I told you so’ manner. “Wonders of what a little education can do, hm?”

To him, everyone else in this room were mere children. They may theoretically be adults, but their knowledge of the world was so naive and shallow. Very cute, he must admit.

The doorbell rang. Papyrus volunteered himself as if he lived here. “I’LL GO GET IT!”

Then off he went.

Gaster just finished his plate of pasta too. He thought to himself that it would be nice to indulge. This was his first proper meal since his return from the Void.

Alas, life had other plans.

“OH MY GOD, SANS!!!” Papyrus screamed. It was not a happy greeting either.

“Sans?” Gaster put his cutlery down without a clatter before hurrying out. Even at the moment of an emergency, he still maintained his manners.

Everyone else stopped eating and followed the old man.

Sans was bundled up in a towel. Papyrus set his brother down on the couch and kept patting the chubby cheekbones. He tried to lightly smack his brother back to the waking world. Or yell. Whichever worked first.

“SANS! SANS, ANSWER ME! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU???”

Grillby closed the door to keep the winter chill out. He then walked over to Papyrus and said, “…He’s fine. Just exhausted…”

“Captain Grillby?” Gaster muttered. He floated over to the fiery bartender to get a closer look. “Oh it really is you, Captain Grillby. What happened to Sans?”

“…I found Sans collapsed on the floor of my bar… Just when I was preparing to open shop…”

Undyne dropped her jaw. “Wait. What. CAPTAIN?! Grillby was an ex-Captain of the Royal Guard?!?! And I didn’t even know?!?!?!”

The fiery man’s head glowed brighter, embarrassed by the outburst. “…It’s an old story… You did well, either way…”

“Oh my, a double plot twist,” commented Mettaton. “This is getting really exciting!”

Gaster paid no heed to the background chatter. He slipped towards Sans and checked his condition. As Grillby said, the skeleton was fine… except he slept deader than a log.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

A briny scent wafted from the soaked blue jacket. “Seawater?” the old man muttered. Peeling back the towel revealed grains of dirty sand.

Papyrus groaned. “SAAAAANS! IF YOU WANT TO BE A PIRATE, DO IT DURING THE SUMMER! ALL YOU GOT NOW IS A COLD RECEPTION!”

Translation: it’s pointless to go to the beach during winter. Or so Gaster estimated.

“EXCUSE ME EVERYONE, I NEED TO BORROW THE SHOWER!”

Fortunately for the skeleton, Alphys’ lab was one of the ‘regular Frisk visiting zones’ and thus had proper plumbing. Before anyone allowed or denied his request, Papyrus picked up the bundle and whisked his brother away.

Gaster sighed. He turned towards his old friend and asked: “I noticed that he visits your establishment often.”

“…Yes…” Grillby replied. “…I invited him in during his first night in Snowdin… told him it’s a safe place… If he needs anywhere to go, or anything to eat… my doors are open…”

Hearing that confirmation with his own existence brought a huge wave of relief over the old skeleton.

“Oh, my dear friend,” he said, “I thank you from the very bottom of my soul. Being under your watch is certainly much, much safer than loitering out there alone.”

More so after ‘that unfortunate incident’.

“…No problem…” Grillby replied.

“Did he behave?”

“…Yes…He’s a good customer…”

Gaster narrowed his eyes, not quite believing those words.

“…Payments can be late, but they’re always fulfilled…Otherwise he causes no trouble…”

“Good riddance, Sans! How did he get into debt? He was so good at budgeting!”

From here, he could hear the busy sloshing of laundry works. It seemed that the younger brother tried to hit two birds with one stone: washing both his brother and those salt-soaked clothes.

Gaster turned around to Papyrus’ friends, asking: “Is this normal?”

“Normal?” Undyne didn’t quite understand.

“Is this a regular occurrence?” He twirled his finger towards the sounds of water. “Picking up after his brother. Washing. Cleaning. While the elder was out cold.”

The undine thought for a while, trying to recall their routine. “No…? This is a first.”

Yet somehow Papyrus knew exactly what to do. The uncle’s scrutiny then shifted to Mettaton with all their cold, demanding intensity.

“Sansy?” the robot shrugged. “He always delivers his comedy. Guest star material, you know. One of my favourite guys to call.”

Gaster then asked: “Has he ever fallen asleep in the middle of a performance?”

“No, no.” Mettaton replied. “Only after the show. I let the darling take his nap. Showbiz is quite exhausting after all, and he delivered his job anyway.”

In response to that, Undyne groaned. “Sheesh Mettaton, you got lucky. I had to keep an eye on him at all times! Never know when he’s either gonna turn his sentry post into an illegal hotdog stand or slack off.”

That earned the full focus of the most intimidating mentor of monster society. Gaster pinned his attention back at Undyne.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Sans? Sentry? I may be the one stretched across spacetime, but I couldn’t fathom what got him into the guard business in the first place. Did you conscript him?”

Undyne shook her head and slowly pointed her thumb towards the direction of the bathroom. It’s filled with the sound of some nice, hot showers.

The puddle of amalgamation goo around Gaster’s legs began to roil. “Papyrus? Are you serious?”

“Yeeeeah…” she replied. “Sorry Doctor Gaster, but that’s the truth. Papyrus was the one who begged me to give Sans a job. The only position I had available was a sentry. Even that was a stretch.”

“I hadn't started my business yet back then.” Mettaton quickly washed his hands clean, lest he somehow end up in the pot too.

“And what about Papyrus himself…?” asked the old one.

That question will surface sooner or later. The trio of friends and Grillby took the time to explain. Through their testimonies, the elder skeleton made sense of the bits and pieces he had observed…

In between the explanations, the tall skeleton emerged with a pail of wet, wrung out laundry. He had just washed both Sans’ clothes and Grillby’s towel. By hand.

“THE DRIER IS NEXT TO THE WASHING MACHINE, RIGHT?” asked Papyrus

Alphys replied with a confirmation. “Yep. You did use it the day before.”

“JUST CONFIRMING.”

Off he went again.

The stories continued. Grillby explained that the folks in Snowdin were once confused of who was the real older brother.

Sans looked his age, but his sense of responsibility was a bit of a suspect. Kind of a sociable joker bum that needed prodding to move. Not quite the elder brother material there.

On the other hand, Papyrus was a model citizen. Hardworking. Diligent. Energetic. He gunned for the Royal Guard and all its associated ‘cool prestige’.

Except he had one fatal flaw: he’s too naive for the job. Even by monster society standards. Unanimously voted by anyone who knew him.

Gaster buried his face in his palm. And how he wished his hands didn’t have holes in the centre. “Good lord, what compelled him so?”

“He wanted to be popular,” said Mettaton. “Just like me~. In his own way. Very admirable I must say.”

“Why does Papyrus even need popularity???”

Everyone shrugged. They were as perplexed as the elder skeleton.

While the poor uncle stressed out over the issue, Papyrus started rearranging Alphys’ manga collection in the correct numerical order.

Then he dusted off the action figures.

Re-stacked the files piling up on Alphys’ PC desk.

Swept the office floor.

He just never stops moving.

In time, the dryer dinged. Papyrus finished up whatever chore he kept himself occupied with and resumed his care for Sans.

Ah, the convenience of Surface technology. Saved plenty of time and hassle. Thanks to their ingenuity it was possible for Papyrus to put Sans back together on the same day. Figuratively.

Pants? Checked.

Slippers? Checked.

T-shirt? Checked.

The iconic blue jacket? Why of course. Sans wouldn’t be half of his image without it.

Once he had finished dressing his brother up, Papyrus tucked him in one of Alphys’ extra beds.

[…Did you really have to launder his clothes on the spot?] Gaster signed in a whisper.

Papyrus answered back as soft as he could. [YES. WHAT IF HE WAKES UP WHILE I FETCHED HIS EXTRA CLOTHES? I THINK IT WOULD BE POSITIVELY EMBARRASSING. OR NEGATIVELY.]

[Good point. But what about Doctor Alphys’ spare clothing?]

Papyrus glanced sideways, a little horrified by his own imagination. [I THINK IT WOULD BE WORSE IF HE WOKE UP AS A GIRL.]

In a way, Gaster pitied the young one. The only reason he could even make this conclusion was the fact he had never seen a live female skeleton.

[A lady’s bone structure is a little different, Papyrus. It’s hard to explain without a comparison, but rest assured Sans won’t become a woman through clothing choice alone. Not against his will, at the very least.]

Papyrus was relieved. Then, he beckoned his uncle to follow. Wonder where the younger wanted him to go?

There was a marked lack of fire in the living room. According to Undyne, Grillby had gone back to his bar to keep a lookout for information. Who knew if his patrons had heard stories.

Bless that elemental, thought Gaster.

Papyrus led his uncle back to the kitchen, where their Saturday morning first began.

“UNCLE GASTER,” he asked. “DO YOU KNOW HOW TO MAKE SOUP? I HEARD IT’S VERY NOURISHING.”

‘Soup’: one of the most basic universal cuisines out there. “Of course. We can use the morning’s stock as a base. What do you have in mind?”

“I DON’T KNOW. I’M USUALLY FIT AND HEALTHY, SO I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO MAKE FOR MY BROTHER.”

The young skeleton was… more reserved than usual. How strange for his upbeat persona.

“BUT… I REMEMBERED… THE ONE TIME I CAUGHT THE SNEEZLES AS A KID. SANS BROUGHT BACK SOME REALLY NICE SOUP. IT MUST BE A SHOP SPECIAL, BECAUSE I COULDN’T FIND IT AGAIN.”

“IF I TOLD YOU HOW IT TASTED, DO YOU THINK WE CAN REMAKE IT? LIKE, THE WHOLE REVERSE ENGINEER SCIENCE THING THAT ALPHYS TALKS ABOUT.”

Gaster had a feeling. An intuition, if one must be more specific, that this long-lost mystery dish was something he would recognize.

“Perhaps,” so he answered. “I will do my best to aid you.”